3 Plots Afoot.

At that same time in one of the not-too-palatable neighbourhoods of Provda, several questionable-looking characters were gathered in a seedy dwelling place glaring at each other. "Nordveka will not be pleased." One particularly rough-looking fellow snarled his arms crossed. He was addressing another man who was leaning against the wall staring pensively at his palms. "Look Allan, I am trying," He said tersely. "Do you think it's easy what I am trying to do? Those kitchen lasses can be very difficult to win over. Don't know who they think they are anyway. The bloody lot of them." "Why do you even have to win her over?” Allan growled. “You are just a soft lad Strachan. You just find someone and make them do what you want. On the pain of having her throat slit of course should she refuse. That should be enough to make anyone cooperate methinks.” “You are a fool.” The other man said in disgust. “If you think I’ll botch this up by rushing things like a mad beast, think again.” “You are just soft.” Allan said again. “If it were me, I could get this done in an instant!” "Maybe you should come and do it yourself eh?" Strachan snapped. "Well, I would." His opposer returned hotly. "Only I am not the one who works in the palace as a bloody guard!" "Now, now lads we don't need to fight now do we?" A soft new voice joined the frenzy. The men took one look at him and clammed up immediately. The new arrival was an extremely tall man with long waist-length gray hair and a beard that was just about as long. He was dressed in black robes, a black cape and was holding a curved staff in his hands. He looked every inch like what he was. A magician of considerable proportions. The great Nordveka. Though he was widely popular in Aerithor, the vast majority of the people only knew him by description. Matter of fact, for a lot of the men in the room that night, it was their first time ever seeing the man. "What's the squabbling about anyway?" Nordveka advanced further into the room, his curved staff tapping the floor with every movement. No man answered him. Even the rough fellow who had been snarling just a moment ago was deathly still now. It was rumoured that the curved staff operated as a sort of wand for Nordveka. It was also whispered that he did not take it everywhere; the King did not allow that apparently. But the fact remained that the curved staff was right here, right now and no one wanted to be the reason the rumour about it being capable of doing magic was substantiated. In fact, they now began to think it was necessary to make themselves scarce and one by one all the men left the room until the magician was left alone with the man who had been the centre of attraction. "You are the one from the castle aren't you?" The man said, looking at the fellow thoughtfully. "The castle guard loyal to the King's brother." The man looked down at the floor and mumbled assent. There was something about this magician that was greatly unnerving. "What is your name man?" Nordveka asked. "Strachan." "My good man Strachan, I know what you're thinking." Nordveka said, tapping the floor with his staff in a kind of rhythm. Strachan kept his eyes down and said nothing. "If I am truly the sorcerer I claim I am, why am we going through this cowardly process?" The castle guard could not keep his head from shooting up in surprise. But the magician was not done. "Why can't I just charm the guards with a spell or something and be done with it eh?" Nordveka shook his head. "Patience, my man. Patience. I like that you think like me. You are patient too. Now get out of here and ensure this thing works.” Strachan hurried out immediately. Sorrentino had the unfortunate job of accompanying the King yet again on one of his escapades to see Helena some weeks later. Only it was no longer an escapade. The King was so taken with the young lady that it began to be whispered everywhere that he might take her on as a concubine. Now that they were no longer slinking around in disguises and hidden passages, Sorrentino could not for the life of him see why the King still decided to go see Helena instead of having her brought to him. "My escapades were just bouts of fun for me you know," Malcolms said flippantly to Sorrentino as they marched along the corridors. "And besides, I did not see the need to be bogged down with so many concubines when I could have escapades instead." He laughed uproariously as the castle guard struggled to understand what was so funny. Ever since the night in the kitchen, it had been almost impossible to see Helena. In her special quarters now, he could not just slip up to see her as he pleased like what he had done when she was working down in the kitchen area. It was too dangerous to send messages or anything. His heart beat painfully every day as he longed for his woman but there was nothing to be done. Presently, they were entering her chamber. Helena was sitting on a chair in front of the mirror braiding her hair. To Sorrentino, she had never looked more beautiful. Malcolm meanwhile looked around, frowning. "Where are the ladies who are supposed to help you?" He demanded. "I sent them all away." Helena said, looking down. "I am sorry Your Majesty but I can't have them waiting upon me hand and foot." The King merely smiled. "You are a most remarkable woman Helena but you are royalty now. Or soon to be anyway. You must get used to it." He turned to Sorrentino. "Okay go on. Stand outside." When the King stepped out a while later, he was looking very pleased with himself. "Remarkable girl that Helena is," he said more to himself than to the man with him. The one who was inwardly seething. "I wonder where she came from." That night, Sorrentino, not on night patrol duty, was sleeping in the guard's quarters when he felt himself being shaken awake softly. He sat up in a flash and grabbed his assailant in a chokehold. "Relax man," the person grunted, wrenching himself free. Sorrentino recognized him to be another castle guard. He did not remember his name. "I am only here to deliver a message. There's a woman here to see you. She sounds quite pitiful. What have you done man?" "What does she look like?" Sorrentino grunted, ignoring the question. His heart was torn between the prospect of seeing his woman again and the danger of Helena marching down here to see him. An unfortunate twist of events and he could have his neck stretched. "I don't know man. Never seen her before." The other guy said. "Has to be a kitchen maid though. Has one of them clothes on." Sorrentino hurried out to see who it was. It was Helena of course disguised in the kitchen maid's clothing and a black shawl wrapped around her head.