The Elf Accord - Book Four of The Magi Charter

By Jordan David and Rob Bockholdt

The Elf Accord:
Santa Leopold has grown too comfortable in his mountain home in the heart of the Austrian Alps. A changing world forces him to take his people on a journey across medieval Christendom in search of a new home at the top of the world. The dangers and problems Leopold will face traveling through Europe are minor compared to what awaits him in the frigid arctic, an inhospitable land dominated by Polar Bears. This first prequel novel explores how Santa became located at the North Pole, the origin of the first elves, the founding of the complex and more. The stories of the people and events of the 12th century have long lasting consequences that will shape Christmas traditions for a millennium.

About the Magi Charter series:
For over two thousand years the legend of Santa Claus has endured. His is a Mission of peace as outlined in the Magi Charter, given to the first Santa by the Child. From humble beginnings, following that First Christmas, the Santa lineage has been passed down through the ages. This epic adventure tells the story of those Santas from the founding of the North Pole and the origin of the ancient elves, to our modern times where the world's problems affect even those in the secluded complex of the North, and concluding in the distant future which finds Santa and the elves committed to their mission on a galactic scale where Christmas traditions are barely recognizable. In every era, those committed to the Mission must find a way to deliver that which is needed most to those most deserving.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBookIt.com
• Release date: Oct 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781456620158

Book preview

The Elf Accord

Jordan David

Copyright 2019 Jordan David,

All rights reserved.

Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com

http://www.eBookIt.com

ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-2015-8

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

The Magi Charter

by Jordan David



The Elf Brief

The Elf Archive

The Elf Coup

The Elf Accord

The Elf Legacy

The Elf Resistance

The Elf Directive

The Elf Sojourn

- Contents -

Chapter 1

Felkandisberg

Chapter 2

The Mountain King

Chapter 3

Westward Bound

Chapter 4

Price of Honor

Chapter 5

Apprentices

Chapter 6

Elsewhere

Chapter 7

Storm Clouds

Chapter 8

Lord Beruchtigt

Chapter 9

The Bear and the Arrow

Chapter 10

From Ann to Anna

Chapter 11

Krakow

Chapter 12

Road to Bingen

Chapter 13

Calais to Dover

Chapter 14

Queen Eleanor

Chapter 15

A & P

Chapter 16

A Royal Mess

Chapter 17

Aerial

Chapter 18

Summer Blizzard

Chapter 19

The Good Shepherd

Chapter 20

Ultimatum

Chapter 21

La Vita Nix

Chapter 22

Commitment, Family, Allegiance

Chapter 23

The Darkest Hour

Chapter 24

The Game

Chapter 25

The First Elves

Chapter 26

Period of Adjustment

Chapter 27

Glowbulbs

Chapter 28

The Way Home

- GLOSSARY -



There is a place at the top of the world….

- From an Austrian folktale

Chapter 1

*

Felkandisberg

Oren emerged from the tree line onto the North Road. He looked up into the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun. Gauging the time to be near to midday, he set off southward. A shrill whistle called his mastiff, Sothis, out from the woods. The big dog sniffed cautiously before darting into the road and falling in beside him. Oren had to step a few paces to the side in order to avoid the mud his exuberant companion was kicking up.

Spring had come early this year for Austria. Drenching rains had been nonstop for the past week. Oren had intended to leave his winter home weeks prior, but the monsoons made that impossible. It was slow going since leaving this morning just to get to the main road. The forest was full of swollen creeks and slippery paths where ice still hid in the shade. He shifted the pack and his bow around to keep his balance on the muddy road. The last thing he wanted was to fall face first here; he’d look the fool making his first appearance in town this year like some lowly farmhand who just fell off a wagon.

He was a hunter; no, he was the hunter in these parts. Grumbling, the mighty hunter gingerly picked his way to the side of the road. It would be easier and cleaner to stick to just inside the trees, avoiding the so-called road. The rains had turned it into a muddy mess. Even in the best weather, naming it the North Road was still too grand a description. More like a dirt path that meandered through the forest and mountains. Sothis held no reservations about the mud and busied himself with running back and forth from one side to the other, nose inches from the dirt, enthralled with whatever it was dogs sensed.

Felkandisberg was the only town for some miles around. It would be hours before they made it. Once there, word of his arrival would race through the town like lightning no doubt. People would be clamoring to hear of his adventures over the winter. Oren grinned thinking of the huge bear skin in his pack; that was one story he looked forward to telling. He had spent the past few months hunting and wintering in the depths of the forest where he enjoyed a private cabin and hunting grounds that only a handful of people could find. Oddly enough he’d not had a single visitor this season. Not that he minded, but it was strange. Perhaps that is why he had been eager to leave and return to town come the first thaw. The winter had not been particularly bad, hunting and trapping had been excellent. His bundle was bulging with animal skins and leather he’d prepared for trade. With any luck, he’d get enough money to acquire a new set of boots and a coat. If he was lucky, he might even have enough to commission a sword from the local armorer.

Why did he want a sword? Oren was a prime bowman, a legendary archer, both for game and competition. Swords were useless for him. It was a silly thought, but one that had popped into his imagination this winter. He spent many an hour thinking of wielding a sword. Not that he’d ever give up his bow. Never that. But still, it might be nice to have a backup weapon. A dagger sure was handy, and he had several on his person, but a sword… there were just times when a good sword might save your life where a bow could not. At least, that is what he told himself. If it were meant to be, a sword he would acquire. If not, he’d do without. Besides, if he really needed a sword, all he had to do was ask; money need not keep him from a sword. That brought a sour taste to his mouth.

Lord Guy Babenberg; his employer and primary source of income. Oren had been in Lord Guy’s good graces for many a year. Ever since he’d renounced his claim to his father’s lands and found out just how hard it was to live by the bow alone. Curse his youthful, impulsive self. With no trade skill or income of his own, he was grateful for Lord Guy to make him an offer to join his household. There he quickly rose to become the best hunter, preferring to spend long periods on his own and away from the rabble Lord Guy employed. That became a source of friction between Oren and the Lord quickly enough. Lord Guy expected his men to stay near his private estate, ready to take orders and carry them out. Many were the sort of tasks not to Oren’s liking. Often, they were told to harass local farmers of the neighboring Lords, destroy crops, raid livestock, and occasionally have an all-out battle with their counterparts of the rival Lords.

No, that sort of work was not Oren’s way. If he wanted to engage in nonstop battle with other men just to gain a few acres of land, he’d have kept his birthright and carried on the family business. Last he heard of his brothers they were doing just that. Along with all the other nobles and lords in the territory of Austria. Such a waste. If men felt compelled to risk their lives and destroy things, there were plenty of worthy challenges in the forest. Let them try their nerve and steel against a bear or wolf. He’d be happy to show them just where to find those sorts of foe. But no, men preferred to fight one another more often than not. And for what? Gold, land, martyrdom? What was the point? Nope, it made no sense to him. He would stick to what he knew. The forest and the trials it contained. An honest fight with a bear and a great story to boast of afterward.

It was that kind of thinking that was a point of contention with Lord Guy and his cronies. Oren stayed away on extended hunts as much as he could. His skill with the bow and knowledge of the territory was equaled to none. Though they might think him a coward to avoid battles and other nasty work that came with being a man-at-arms, no one dared speak such thoughts directly to his face. Insults like that would loose an arrow from Oren’s bow faster than a man could blink or retract his words. Just because Oren avoided combat on the battlefield did not mean he had any qualms when it came to personal honor.

Lord Guy provided all his men with a certain amount of funds each year. Bonuses were paid out whenever they were victorious in battle or upsetting the neighbors enough to cause a rival Lord to seek capitulation with Lord Guy. In addition to a salary, Lord Guy also supplied the armor and weapons his men needed. Oren avoided those sorts of gifts. Lord Guy’s men kept close track of who was given what and those that had the newest and most expensive arms were expected to pay for it on the battlefields. His bow was made by his own hand, his garments as well, his boots and some other things paid for from his wages. He liked to think his money was payment for his hunting skill and scouting of enemy territory.

Lord Guy himself tended to overlook his spirit of independence. For the most part. The others of the household were less tolerant, confusing solitude with being disloyal. Though it was rare such sentiments met Oren’s ears, he knew it was whispered. Which brought Oren’s thoughts back around to the sword. Should he go to Lord Guy’s blacksmith and request such a weapon, he’d be that much more in Lord Guy’s debt and expected to pay out in the other ways. For now, he did his job as a hunter and scout and kept out of the way of Lord Guy’s men and all their machinations.

Oren was a bit of a celebrity in the region. Well known for having renounced his family’s lands and inheritance, he was even better known for his prowess with the bow. His tracking abilities and knowledge of the forest was the stuff of legend. Felkandisberg had festivals throughout the year with contests to see who could get the biggest deer, or bear, or wolf. Oren always won. Any contest of the bow was no contest for him. The local people loved cheering him on; even those who competed against him and lost considered it an honor. But his favorite part of any such contest or just going about his life was the telling of the stories of his triumphs and tribulations.

Perhaps it was a combination of his skill and fame that allowed for him to enjoy more freedom than the other men of Lord Guy’s employ. Perhaps that is why Lord Guy himself avoided Oren and chose not to rein him in. A sword would change all of that. Unless he could pay for it himself. Yet, where would he get such a thing? The only blacksmith who could make a good one was Lord Guy’s man. Maybe he needed to consider the whole sword dream again, a sword might be more trouble than it was worth, for him anyways.

A chilly breeze blew through the forest. The muddy road was devoid of other travelers. The leaves of the trees and bushes were all bright green. Early spring flowers of purple and red and yellow were poking up in clusters just about everywhere. Birds of every type and description were singing and calling out to each other. Oren took a deep breath of the spring air and paused to look around for Sothis. With all his thinking, he’d lost sight of the dog.

Sothis barked as if sensing his master was wondering about him. The road here curved around a bend. Oren hustled his step to see what the mastiff had taken an interest in. Around the bend, a small bridge came into view. He had not realized he’d walked so far. This bridge marked the outskirts of Felkandisberg, the town was less than a mile away now. Sothis stood in the center of the bridge intently watching the nearby pond. It was an old wooden thing spanning the creek that ran beneath it which was known for getting quite swollen from the rains and winter runoff and even taking out the bridge many a time in the past. The bridge was just wide enough to allow a single wagon to pass. Oren scratched Sothis around the ears and followed the rushing creek waters out to the pond beyond. There he saw what held the dog’s attention. A flock of geese had taken up residence. Honking and squawking at one another they were oblivious to the two on the bridge. It was irresistible, a tasty dinner the birds would make for himself and any company he was sure to have this evening. Oren took up his bow and with hunter’s stealth and skill bagged three of the fattest geese from the group. The rest took off out over the water, retreating to the far side of the pond, honking and squealing their discontent. Sothis waited for the signal and ran down to gather up the quarry and bring them back to Oren who tied the prize up securing it to his pack. The two set off again down the North Road.

It was not long before the muddy North Road began to widen and the houses and other structures of Felkandisberg came into view. People as well. Carts and horses, children running about the streets, men and women going about their business. The town was not very large, a village would be the best comparison. However what set Felkandisberg apart from any village was its fountain in the town square complete with paving stones that filled in the town’s central hub. Everyone insisted this was a key requirement for any town and thus insisted to any outsiders that Felkandisberg was no village.

Aside from the town square, the streets were all dirt. Only less muddy because of the nonstop traffic of carts, animals, and boots, but still plenty of mudholes and puddles to slow one’s intended route. Oren and Sothis made their way down the north street and around the splendid fountain, a large gray sculpted thing, part natural rock, part carved rock; it was topped with a maiden whose upturned bucket spilled an endless cascade of water over the rocks and into the huge basin. No fewer than six goodwives were busy with their laundry and chatting amongst themselves when the two came into the village square. Oren smiled and greeted them as he passed. The women asked how he fared over the winter and more than one suggested this might be the spring he settled down with a wife like a respectful man, and of course, they just happened to have a daughter and would he like to wait while they fetched her?

Children darted out from alleyways and yards to greet Sothis and try to entice the mastiff into a game of chase. Sothis was not having that. He chased enough things around in the woods each day. The children quickly lost interest in Sothis and begged Oren for a story or to see his bow. It was a great contest for them to see if they were strong enough this year to draw back the cord. Oren fended them off, promising to tell stories later, right now he was intent on his destination at the east end of town. Stopping here and there he paused to exchange greetings with other men he knew and discuss the impact of the winter. It was refreshing to be back amongst the townsfolk. But how did they stand to live so close together all year round?

Most of the people who called Felkandisberg home did not truly live in town. Farms dominated the countryside. Then there were the ranches, usually specializing in either sheep or cows. The people in town traded for and bought from the farmers and ranchers the raw materials for their leatherworking shops, butchers, and cloth makers. In turn, other shopkeepers like the cobbler bought from the leather merchants to make their goods. The tailors bought from the cloth makers and so on. And everyone both in town and out always had need of the blacksmith. The man and his three apprentices could be heard banging away at iron and steel from anywhere in town.

Following the road east, Oren stepped aside to allow a merchant wagon pulled by six mules to lumber by. The wagon driver tipped his hat and snapped his whip at the mules, cursing them not to get stuck in the mud again. Two armed guards on foot followed close behind. Oren guessed the merchant had come from Vienna judging by the size of that wagon. He chuckled thinking the merchant might have trouble going over the north bridge. But it was not stopping here in Felkandisberg, that was sure. The merchant and his fine goods were bound for points north and west. Perhaps some great city like Hamburg or even Rome itself, the cities Oren had only ever heard about in stories.

If one took the east road out of town, it would lead straight to Vienna, the capital of the Austrian territory. He had been there once as a boy. All he remembered was how there seemed to be an endless maze of buildings. Like a forest of square stone houses. Strange how so many people prefer to live in such places. Here on the east side of town the houses and shops thinned out. The road sloped down somewhat allowing for a view of the valley and countryside beyond the town. Oren paused to gaze out over the farmland. Little smoke trails floated up from farmhouses marking the residence of the families who tended the land. Lord Guy owned pretty much all the land in sight. Beyond the valley, vast mountain ranges encircled Felkandisberg. To the southwest rose the largest of the mountains, Klaus Mountain. It was said there was a hidden valley somewhere in its passes, but Oren didn’t believe that. He’d been charged by Lord Guy to find that valley more than once to no avail. He was convinced there was no such place. Still, rumors and stories refused to die, and the townsfolk accepted it as fact and pointed out the mountain as proof that Lord Guy did not claim everything.

Sothis grew restless. The dog knew where they were headed and was excited to get there. Oren continued down the street. A prominent feature of the last building on the outskirts was hard to miss. Gleaming white brick chimneys rose into the sky, far above the actual roof. A full floor higher in fact as the chimneys were built for a three-story structure, but only two had come to fruition. The White Tavern. Part inn and stable, but mostly tavern and all around great place to lose oneself in a stein of ale. Sothis dashed ahead and into the open door, ready to make himself at home. Oren followed the dog inside; it was bright and inviting. The tavern owner, Dran, came around from a back room and was overjoyed to see Oren and Sothis.

Oren! Oren! Survived another winter you have! Dran greeted him and gladly taking the fresh goose trio. It’s been too long old friend. Will you be staying awhile in town; do you need a room? Oh wait, don’t move, she’ll want to see you too!

Dran flung the geese down on the bar and hollered up the stairs that led to the private rooms of his family who lived above the tavern and occasional travelers who stayed for a night. Avelina, come see who’s here! Hurry up before he leaves!

There was a running commotion from overhead and a series of stomping as someone came down the stairs. Dran’s wife Avelina appeared looking less than happy for being shouted at until her gaze fell on Oren and all was forgotten. She ran across the room and threw her arms around him. Avelina, a stout woman, was dressed in a plain brown woolen dress. Although not a short woman, Oren still towered over her by a good three heads.

They spent several minutes conversing about the winter and all that happened in the town since Oren’s last calling in the autumn. The tavern looked unchanged to his eyes. There was a good dozen or so tables, the chairs all made by Dran himself and decorated by Avelina. A great fireplace dominated one side of the room. Sothis staked out his favorite spot. It’s what he was waiting for all day, a cozy fire and people tossing him bits of food. The mastiff would have to wait on the tidbits, there were no other patrons in the bar this early in the afternoon. Dran and Avelina countered every question of Oren’s with two of their own. They even managed to wriggle out a story he’d meant to save for later in the evening about the day he caught a fish, a bear, and wolf at the same time.

Finally, Avelina remembered there were still plenty of chores to do. She chided Dran for not getting the shutters open. Dran hustled out of the room, bidding Oren to make himself at home, to which Oren readily took up a table near the fire that gave a clear view of the common room. Dran continued to talk as he went to the windows and hoisted up the outer shutters, flooding the tavern with daylight from the sunny spring day. That suited Oren as it gave the place an open feel and let in the fresh air.

After the shutters were fixed, Dran took the geese into the kitchen to hand over to the cook to prepare. He came back with a tankard of ale and a pair of steins. Pulling up a chair, Dran joined Oren at the table and poured them each a generous amount of the house specialty. The tavern owner’s mood changed, and it was clear they were going to talk on more serious topics.

Have you heard the news from Vienna? Dran asked intently.

I have taken great pains to avoid news while roaming the wilderness, Oren replied taking a drink and leaning back in his chair.

Not a wilderness any longer. Austria is a kingdom! By Frederick’s decree, made one of the Babenbergs an Archduke! Now, what do you say to that, Oren?

Kingdom? How long was I asleep this winter? Oren grumbled. Wait, a Babenberg is our Archduke?

Tis the year of our Lord, eleven hundred eighty you know. Dran grinned. And yes, I hear one of Lord Guy’s cousins is on the new throne. Naturally, Vienna has been christened the capital. Now that reminds me of the time…

How is Lord Guy taking all this? Oren interrupted. If there were any stories to be told he wanted to do it. Dran’s stories tended to be very long and unclear if they were things that happened to Dran himself or things the man planned to do in the future.

Dran’s face drew tight, and he lowered his voice. As you would expect. Lord Guy fancies himself a Duke’s title and plans to do whatever it takes to get it. He’s hell-bent on increasing his lands and power base like never before. Has to impress his cousin the Archduke, now doesn’t he?

Oren scowled into his stein and upended a large swig of ale. Becoming a kingdom was fine for Austria. There were plenty of advantages to being mostly independent of the Holy Roman Empire, yet there would be trouble. With a newly formed kingdom, the Austrian lords would all be scheming to climb the monarchy ranks, and that meant plenty of battles of the political and military kind for the future.

A little face peeked out from behind Dran’s back. With big blue eyes and golden curls, the little girl was fixed on Sothis near the fire. Her father noticed her presence and lifted the girl up from the floor.

Oh, look who wants to join us! You remember, Joya don’t ya Oren? Dran laughed as the squirming girl tried to escape and get back down to the floor.

Oren did not immediately recall seeing her from last year. She was just about four years of age if that much. Joya managed to free herself from her father’s arms and plopped down on the floor. Can I pet the doggy? she whispered; her eyes wide as she inched towards the dozing Sothis. She clutched a small doll to herself.

Oren smiled. You can pet him. But be nice. Sothis eats mean children!

Joya never took her eyes from the dog. She clutched her doll tightly and reached out to pet the mastiff. Sothis opened one eye to see who it was, then promptly went back to snoozing.

So… Lord Guy. Have you checked in with him yet? Dran asked keeping an eye on the dog and girl by the fireside.

I have not, said Oren taking another drink. He planned to avoid going to the Babenberg estate for as long as possible. Maybe not at all now. Word would spread quickly enough of his arrival in town though, Guy’s men would seek him out soon enough.

Don’t blame ya. At least stay for supper. We’ll be having a fine goose this evening thanks to you,

Dran eventually went back to doing chores around the tavern. Oren passed the next few hours relaxing by the fire. Little Joya came and went, making sure Sothis was still by the fire where she’d left him. Avelina came around at one point and was not happy that Oren was only being supplied with ale. She brought him some fresh loaves of bread and a large chunk of hard cheese, for which he thanked her. It had been a long time indeed since he’d had such staples.

Later that afternoon the first customer of the evening arrived. An elderly man who claimed to be on pilgrimage took up a table in the corner. Dran brought him some ale and bit of bread and cheese. The smell of the roasting goose was becoming quite alluring, and the man asked about a meal, to which Dran promised him as soon as all was ready. Oren tossed Sothis a piece of bread and patiently waited for the tavern to fill up with the night’s guests. The smells of a feast were sure to bring in a crowd, just what he was hoping for.

Dran was about to take a break and join him for another round of ale when a new group of patrons entered the tavern. Oren immediately recognized the escort with the two women. A knight named Thurston in the service of Leopold. A lean and a grizzled veteran of more than one war, Thurston was a no-nonsense man who tended not to trust anyone, not from Leopold’s House. He wore no chain mail today, only fine dark linen clothes beneath an old brown patched cloak that was travel-stained. On his left hip was a long sword that looked like it belonged there. Oren settled himself against his seat as best he could and tried not to attract the knight’s attention. Too late, it was only the slightest of glances, but Thurston took him in and spotted his bow leaning against the wall nearby. The old knight said nothing but ushered his two female companions to a table near one of the windows.

The two ladies were quite the oddity. Oren could not help himself to watch as Dran bowed for them and listened to their request for food and drink. The one woman was tall with brown hair and dressed in fine yellow linens, not seemingly touched by any long journey. She spoke politely with the tavern owner and thanked him for his attention. Her name was Serapha, a lady who was also attached to Leopold’s House. It was not clear if she was Leopold’s wife or daughter, though Oren was sure she was neither.

With Serapha was another woman. Quite young and dressed in a simple gray and green dress. It appeared she was trying to disguise herself as a common woman, but Oren knew a lady when he saw one. The young woman’s clothing although plain was clearly fine linen. And unless he was mistaken on the latest fashion trends, he’d never seen a dress in that style before which suggested she was not from Austria. She kept her head down and tried not to look uncomfortable, yet anyone could tell she was not used to being in such a tavern. Yes, definitely a lady. How curious thought Oren.

Thurston did not join them at their table. He preferred to eat and drink while leaning against the wall. Little Joya crept down the stairs but was frozen from going into the common room by the knight’s glare. Instead, she sat on the steps and peeked through the rails at the fascinating strangers.

Not long after other men started to file into the White Tavern looking for a good cup of ale. Others followed their noses hoping to get a bit of goose dinner, and others came because they heard Oren was back in town and that always promised some entertainment. Avelina helped Dran tend the bar and keep up with the flow of ale and beer. Oren swapped stories with the patrons, and more than once was asked to start over because some new man had just come in.

He’d almost forgotten about the ladies and stoic knight when two particularly strange individuals staggered into the bar just after sunset. Everyone stopped to take notice; Oren groaned seeing who it was. One a tall, lanky man by the name of Warin who was almost always drunk and true to his character managed to knock over a chair as he stumbled in. Grinning stupidly, he apologized to the ladies at the table, failing to see Thurston partly draw his blade, then spotting Oren, gave a shout and rushed over to join his table.

Right behind Warin, came a second and even more unpleasant man. This one was older but walked with a steady step and a sinister sneer at anyone who caught his eye. He was missing more than one tooth and took no care how his unbecoming smile added to his menacing presence. But then he probably enjoyed that. This was Maurice.

Maurice and Warin could easily clear a room. They had no trouble finding freshly vacated chairs at Oren’s table as they approached. Taking seats, they helped themselves to Oren’s bread and cheese. Sothis lifted his head and growled until Oren waved the mastiff to be silent. These two were Lord Guy’s men, and often they were assigned to Oren when on hunting parties. He hoped they would not find him until much later this night, maybe until the morning. He had even hoped Maurice and Warin would not have been fortunate enough to survive the winter.

Heard you emerged from hibernation, Maurice mumbled around a mouthful of bread.

Hi-bear-rate-ons, Warin laughed.

Most of the other patrons turned their attention back to their drinks and private conversation. But Oren saw more than one set of eyes darting glances at the little conference at his end of the tavern. Secretly he hoped one of the idiots would give him a reason to reach out and grab his bow and send them flying out the door. Dran interrupted those thoughts coming up to the group and asking if the two knaves needed anything.

We’ll have whatever he’s having, Maurice put in.

Dran glanced at the ugly man but addressed Oren. The goose is just about ready. You’ll be having some of that right, Oren?

Before he could answer, Maurice spoke up again. That sounds fine. Make it three, Dran. And don’t go skimping on the meat either!

Dran nervously looked back to Oren who gave the slightest of nods to confirm the order and the tavern owner hurried off. He noticed Warin eyeing his pack and bow on the wall. If they thought he was going to hand over any of the skins he’d brought for trading, there was going to be trouble. Wisely though, Warin kept his mouth shut and buried his nose in his stein.

It's good timing on your part Oren, said Maurice. There’s been a lot happening this year. I suppose you’ve heard about Austria’s elevation?

Oren did not reply. Maurice was not paying him any attention. Those sinister gray eyes were much more interested in the far side of the room, where the two ladies sat. Lord Guy intends to solidify his position in this part of the kingdom. No doubt he’ll be king one day. That will be good for us, no?

Oren stared back hoping the lout would get to the point and leave him be.

Tell him about Leopold! Warin blurted out swaying slightly from the ale.

Maurice shoved the younger man roughly. I’m getting to it. How about it Oren, heard about our dear friend Leopold lately?

Oren had heard nothing. Leopold was not a local lord. He was some wealthy merchant who lived near Klaus Valley. He was rarely seen in town, Oren himself had only ever met him once. Leopold was wealthy enough to be able to keep a considerable amount of staff on hand, including the knight Thurston and the Lady Serapha. Leopold and the members of his House kept to themselves, they never made any trouble. Though Lord Guy might disagree on that last point.

Dran came back with their meals. He set out plates heaped with steaming portions of roast goose, onions, and turnips. A fresh plate of bread and cheese was also put out, and their steins topped off with more ale. What’s that about Leopold? Dran asked as he poured the drinks.

Never you mind! Warin snapped, afraid Dran might neglect to top off his empty stein.

The tavern owner deliberately cut off the flow. If the likes of you mention Leopold you’re up to no good. I’ll have you know Leopold is a decent man. Keeps half this town in business he does. He even comes around to wish us good tidings once a year. Was here this past Christmas and gave my Joya that doll. Doesn’t ask nothing for it neither! What man gives out gifts to folks and wants nothing in return. He’s a good man I tell you.

Maurice not at all pleased with the glowing speech rose up from his seat. Now you see here tavern keep…

Sit down, Oren commanded softly. Maurice froze in mid-sentence as the noise in the rest of the common room dropped off noticeably. Dran departed leaving a crestfallen Warin staring into a half-full stein. Maurice lowered himself down carefully watching Oren and sensibly, the bow.

The three passed a few minutes in silence as they worked on their meals. A tense hum filled up the rest of tavern as Dran and Avelina kept everyone fed and steins filled. Sothis got more than his fill from Oren’s plate, the mastiff licking his chops with the delight that only a dog knows.

Licking his fingers of juice and crumbs, Maurice took another leering look at the two ladies across the room. Turning his attention back to Oren he continued the conversation once more. Leopold has been a busy man of late,

Warin burped something unintelligible into his stein mug.

Lord Guy wants to make sure he poses no threat once and for all. If Leopold thinks about overthrowing Babenberg’s control of the crown, he’s mistaken. We’ll bury him in that mountain of his if we have to. Maurice said.

What are you babbling about? asked Oren disdainfully.

Maurice shot back an annoyed look and flicked a scrap of bread in Sothis’ direction. If you bothered to stay abreast of things you’d know. Leopold’s men have been seen around town, and other places far more than is custom for them. They are gathering supplies. Been buying up wagons, feed, wool, all kinds of things. They’re planning something they are. Lord Guy intends to force his way into Leopold’s mountain and conquer Klaus Valley before Leopold has a chance to move his forces out and challenge Guy openly.

This does not sound like Leopold. He’s a peaceful man. Why should he move against Lord Guy? Has anyone thought that perhaps his people had a hard winter in their valley and might just be trying to re-supply? Oren argued.

It was true that Leopold’s men often came into Felkandisberg to trade and buy supplies they ran short on. Klaus Valley was said to have some good farmland, albeit small, but enough to provide for the needs of a single House. Townsfolk appreciated doing business with Leopold’s people, they dealt fairly and paid in gold and silver. Lord Guy was just trumping this latest buying frenzy as a preemptive buildup of some army for Leopold. Utter nonsense, there was no way Leopold could conceal a whole army inside that mountain or the hidden valley. Besides, there was no proof anyone actually lived in the mountain itself. Oren suspected there was a hidden passage that might go through the mountain and into the valley. But it was only a fancy, he still considered the valley to be a myth.

Leopold has never sworn fealty to Lord Guy. He has never so much as paid tribute. And now he throws gold around and is hoarding supplies. What else can it mean? Leopold has remained hidden for far too long. He was just waiting for Austria to be declared its own kingdom. A fledgling kingdom and a new crown in Vienna, what lord wouldn’t want to take a chance on that? Maurice explained.

Leopold is not a Lord, Oren pointed out.

Don’t give me that merchant excuse, Maurice drawled. "No merchant lives like that man. If he is a man, I’ve heard about certain… rituals that go on inside that mountain. Maybe it’s the devil’s work that goes on in there… Lord Guy will sort it out, wait and see."

Oren frowned. He did not like where this was going. Lord Guy was determined to get into that mountain once and for all and know the source of Leopold’s wealth. And it would not take much to convince men like Maurice and Warin. A campaign in their own lands with the lure of plenty of gold, not to mention whatever else they might find in that valley.

Maurice could see Oren was still not convinced. Take a look over there, He indicated the table where the two ladies were still eating. Serapha has found herself a new lady friend. And not from around here either. Leopold’s negotiating an alliance with another noble house. Only a matter of time before its all-out war.

Oren reached down to pet Sothis. It might be true. Unlikely, but still it was the sort of thing nobles and lords did all the time. He’d seen such maneuvers all his life. The only thing he had to speak against it was a single encounter with Leopold and the compliments of the townsfolk. And of course, common folk would speak highly of anyone paying with gold. Hopefully, it was all a misunderstanding. If war broke out this close to Felkandisberg, likely the town would be left in ruins…

Two large fists slammed down on the table. Oren whipped his head up to see the old knight Thurston looming over them. Thurston was a tall man, but even seated Oren was still able to meet his stare evenly. There was fire in the knight’s eyes.

Gentlemen. If my ladies are disturbing you, you can leave. I’ll request of you only once to keep your eyes on your own plates.

The knight stared back at Oren who kept his nerve and refused to blink. Warin quickly tried to pretend there was no disgruntled knight at their table and hollered for Dran to refill his stein. Maurice smiled his ugly toothless smile, eyes blazing with anger, but wisely his attention was drawn downwards to Thurston’s sword, and he kept his gaze down. Satisfied, the ruffians were cowed for the moment, Thurston spared Oren one last look then sauntered away.

Just you wait Thurston, you’ll get what’s coming to you… Maurice fumed into his stein. Oren noticed he made no move to turn around and stare at the ladies.

You two have been acting like fools since you stumbled in, Oren berated them. The knight would have been within his rights to run you both through, and not a man here would speak against him. Not even me.

And Lord Guy would… Warin managed to slur drunkenly.

Lord Guy would have two new fools to replace you by sunrise. Now I’ve heard all the rumors I can stomach for one day. Unless you have further business, get out!

Maurice tried to puff himself up importantly. "There is more Oren. The matter of your orders. Lord Guy wants you to find a way into Leopold’s mountain. Follow them, He ever so slightly tossed his head in the direction of Thurston and the two ladies. If Leopold himself should emerge, follow him."

Oren gritted his teeth. There was a fine line between scouting and spying. Neither of which he liked doing, especially the latter. He held his tongue and nodded that he understood the orders. At least he’d be able to avoid going to Lord Guy’s estate now. Maurice grinned smugly and stood, pulling a swaying Warin up with him. The two idiots brazenly made their way through the crowded tavern to the door. Warin barely made it down the steps, as Maurice turned in the doorway to make one last folly.

My ladies, He spoke loudly to be sure everyone heard him, especially Serapha and her companion. I sincerely hope we will meet again soon and get to know one another. He swept off a pretend hat with a mock bow.

In a heartbeat, as the fool straightened up, an arrow flew through the air and pinned Maurice’s unkempt hair to the wooden post of the door. Oren sat back down, setting aside his bow. The crowd roared with laughter as Maurice struggled with the arrow trying to untangle himself. Warin had to assist, the arrow was so deeply embedded in the post. But Maurice was unharmed, the arrow having missed his scalp by less than an inch. Thurston put his blade back in the scabbard, disappointed that Oren had intervened. The two idiots eventually fell out the door and into the street.

Joya crept down from her perch carefully creeping over to Oren’s place, her doll held protectively in both hands. She had a very serious expression as she said, Those bad men better not do anything to Santa Leopold.

Oren reached out to scoop the child up and set her on the table. "Santa Leopold? He gave you this pretty doll, right?"

Joya nodded absently. She pointed towards his pack in the corner and the big bear skin that was wrapped around the outer pack. A bear! How did you catch it?

Sothis who had been watching the girl settled back against the hearth. Oren wondered what she meant by calling Leopold, Santa. He’d never heard the term, maybe it was a new title. Instead, he put the thought out of his mind and began to tell Joya the story of a great bear hunt during the depths of winter, and as he did so, the folks in the White Tavern gathered in to hear for themselves.



Chapter 2

* *

The Mountain King

The workroom floor was the largest room in the mountain. It was also centrally located with several corridors branching off to the other parts of the sanctuary, as Klaus Mountain was sometimes referred to by its inhabitants. Here in the workroom dozens of wooden tables filled the floor, the sound of chisels, wood planes, and hammers contributed to a constant hum of activity. There was a murmur of conversation as the workers exchanged trade talk and critiqued each other’s skills. A low ceiling of bare gray rock, scorched in places with black soot from the candle chandeliers, tended to reflect and amplify noise in a way that made the whole place seem bigger than it really was.

A group of women occupied nearly a quarter of the workroom space. Dozens of bolts of fabric were spread out on wide tables, patterns being carefully traced, cloth being cut, and many hands busily sewing all kinds of useful things. Tiny arms, heads, and clothing that would soon be sewn together forming dolls, destined to be some lucky little girl’s very first toy. Not all the seamstress’ work would be dolls, no not hardly. Much of it would be useful things like real clothes for girls and boys and for their families too. Blankets and hats and dozens of other utilitarian goods that people would be grateful to have.

Another set of tables had an odd assortment of tools and benches scattered about. Scraps and strips of various leathers were being worked on here. In a way, the craft of the leather workers was like that of the seamstress. Just as every square inch of cloth needed to be utilized, not a scrap of leather could be wasted. Exact measurements and planning were key. Skills that took a master craftsman many years to acquire. Belts, boots, and shoes were the main items being prepared. Once the proper pieces of leather were stitched together, they would be sent down to the cobblers’ table to be assembled into the final boots and shoes.

Large iron candle holders were suspended from the ceiling. Candlelight was the only source of illumination within the halls of the mountain. Polished metal reflectors mounted behind each candle acted like a mirror, focusing the light downward for maximum effect. Melted candle wax caked the iron brackets and was scraped off every night to be melted down to make new candles. Nothing went to waste here in the mountain. Such was the topic of teaching that was going on near one of the center tables. A group of men, some just in their teen years and others old enough to be grandfathers were listening hard as the most skilled craftsman amongst them explained the importance of planning the use of a piece of wood.

See here? Leopold said holding up a piece of lumber shaped like a lopsided triangle. What can we make with this? Bear in mind I set out to make a practice sword, but I know Michael down there might need a round piece like this side for some wheels he’s doing. Remember every piece of material is precious. Each wood shaving that falls to the ground is a loss of a potential trinket.

But we have plenty of trees. The forest is full of them, A freckle-faced young man pointed out.

Leopold chuckled. True, but trees do not grow overnight, Alfred. Each time one is cut down we must go further out to find another. All of that takes time does it not? Time that needs to be spent on our task, yes?

The men muttered amongst themselves still not seeing the need to be so careful with a common material like wood. Leopold smiled to himself. This was his favorite part of his job: the instruction. Half the men in the mountain he’d personally trained himself. Teaching a man who had never made a thing in his life to craft a rough piece of wood or leather into a useful tool that would change the life of some person in some far-off village for the better. In a way, it was like getting something from nothing.

Here, look over at the seamstresses. See how they place out the patterns on the cloth? They take great care to plan out every square inch. Even the scraps are made use of as decorative touches for the garments. We must all strive to be so clever, yes?

Now they understood. Leopold moved down the table and took up a chisel and hammer to demonstrate the finer points of carving dovetails to join pieces. Nails were expensive and all but impossible to get small enough to use in toys, for that reason finding ways to hold multiple wooden parts together was a skill in itself.

There was a time when Leopold was a young man and knew nothing of such craftwork. As a poor young man, he struggled with farm work with never any success. When the land finally went bad, he was forced to pack up his new wife Theresa and head north into the Austrian lands searching for work. It was sometime later when one fateful day he happened to meet with Santa Johan who offered Leopold a job in his House. Willing to try anything Leopold took it, not bothering to ask what the job was, nor where this ‘House’ was located. Klaus Valley and its mountain dwelling had been quite the shock to both of them. Theresa was not at all happy about living inside a mountain… at first anyway. Leopold, on the other hand, fell in love with the woodworking and quickly learned everything he was taught, then graduated to the other crafts. In time, Theresa grew to love the work and the people of the mountain. They were not the only married couple here either, though no one here had any children. Perhaps that was why when the time came for Johan to retire that he passed the title of Santa onto Leopold. Along with a mountain of additional responsibly. Some things Leopold regretted, but by and large, his job was his life. He spent much of his time right here on the workshop floor building, crafting, designing, and teaching.

Unfortunately, his other responsibilities tended to find ways of interrupting his preferred activities. The most immediate example was that of a long-bearded man, old enough to be his father, but thankfully not, periodically waving to get his attention. For a while, Leopold tried to ignore the wild gesturing from the far end of the work floor. But Umfrey was insistent, the grizzled old miner cautiously moving closer and closer to Leopold. The result was the men around Leopold losing their attention and trying not to show amusement with the show of wills. With a sigh, Leopold tossed aside the craft tools and acknowledge Umfrey.

Well boys, I have a hunch I’m needed elsewhere. Continue with things here, and I’ll be back as soon as I can to check your work.

The men dispersed back to their assigned workstations around the room. Leopold hurried Umfrey out of the way, briskly walking through the double doors into the corridor that connected the living quarters with the central room. I was just coming, He told Umfrey not for the first time that afternoon.

Aye, you said that over an hour ago, Leopold. We’ve been waiting we have. Umfrey grumbled right back. An old man who’d spent most of his life in one mine or another, Umfrey wore a long leather tunic over a sleeveless coat. His bare arms flexed strong muscles built from years of swinging a pick and hauling stone. There was a somewhat permanent layer of grime pressed into the man’s skin. He’d scrubbed his face clean for the day’s important meeting, however there was still a smudged tint around his eyes. Or maybe it was just the way shadows played off the cavern walls.

An hour, had it been that long? It was so easy to get lost in the details of a craft the whole day could slip by on Leopold. Only an interruption from Theresa or Friar Simon with the promise of food and a threat for not eating usually pulled him off the shop floor most days. The meeting with his council had been planned for over a week, and there was no more putting it off. However, as much he detested work of the administrative variety, Leopold had to uphold that part of his duties from time to time.