Strange tidings

Other than a brief message informing of their arrival on the island that had been conveyed to Einon by his fellow Mage, weeks went by without news from the survey team.

At first you weren't especially troubled. You had matters at court to keep you occupied, smuggler activity that you needed to crack down on, feuds between lordlings that required your intervention. In those few weeks you were establishing your rule as a fair king willing to listen to his subjects, free from the scandal of your father's time or the bloodshed of your great-grandfather's. The Countess had even left a few of her assistants who kept the gold flowing and the trade of the island in good shape.

But the lack of information about the Elvish deal began to gnaw at you. Why hadn't they responded? You had sent several ships armed with trained soldiers, guided by a reliable mage. Surely they weren't attacked and overwhelmed by a pirate ****? Perhaps the Amazons might have caused trouble, but even then you still had faith in your people's abilities to handle the matter. How many times had you been part of naval combat against those barbarian women? Surely it was at least a dozen.

No, the silence was what was troubling. If it was a conventional problem, word would have reached you in some shape or form. Likewise if the mission was a resounding success. So why were things so eerily silent? You and your council had discussed this at length and Einon hadn't been able to glean any more information, which only increased your concern.

Things changed, however, a full month after the survey team had left.

You were greeted one morning by several elves who came into the throne room carrying four large chests. With a grunt of effort the men set them down before you while another stepped forth and held out a letter. Your guards took it and passed it to you and the first thing you noticed was the wax seal, bearing the same kind that Countess Myerling had used numerous times before.

"Your Majesty," the lead Elf proclaimed, "we have brought you the spoils from the excursion, proof that the combined efforts of our two nations were fruitful."

With a wave of his hand the chests were opened, revealing all manner of golden coins, trinkets and even a few weapons. The glow they gave off in the dim morning hours was captivating and several of the courtiers inched closer to bask in the sight of it.

You tore your gaze away from the glowing objects and turned your attention to the letter and read it carefully.

"Sire,

Firstly I must apologise for the lack of communication. The work has been intensive and each of us has been dedicated to seeing the Golden City properly examined and documented. I can say with pride that not only have our Elvish friends proven truthful, but the treasures found on this island are greater than I could have imagined. The beauty I have experienced, the knowledge I have been blessed with is of the profound. The Crimson Isles will surely prosper from this discovery.

The news is not all good however.

When last we spoke you told me that I might ask you for certain favours. I'm afraid I must ask something great now. A new delegation of elves will be arriving on the island shortly and I fear that they might try and strong arm things here. So I must ask that you come personally and make it clear in no uncertain terms that the Crimson Isles will not be shunted aside and fed the scraps. The Elves will respect your position and more generous terms can be negotiated. If we can do this, I'm sure our kingdom will have a steady influx of coin that will bring us into an age of prosperity like no other.

Please, Sire, come.

Your Loyal Subject, Countess Anya Myerling of Mystrax."

You read the letter again, unsure what to make of it. It seemed like the Countess wrote this, and there were even allusions to the encounter the two of you shared. But something was off. There was an air of the artificial about the whole thing.

Einon was at your side almost immediately and you gave him the letter to read. He scanned it silently before giving you a slight frown. When he spoke, it was only slight above that of a whisper. "It's written in Countess Myerling's hand."

"I'd noticed."

"But these are not her words."

You nodded. "At least not entirely. I don't know what the hell happened on that island, but there is chicanery afoot here. Perhaps they plan to lure me into a trap of some sort, though if they are this is incredibly clumsy."

"I don't like it," and you could tell by looking at the Mage that his concern wasn't a trifling thing. "I can normally read men, but this is strange. There's something more going on than simply trying to remove you or exert influence here. The elves are playing at another game entirely." He gave you a searching look. "What will you do, sire?"