The King's Three Sons ONC2023

Olbrecht

Olbrecht's mood turned sour as the door behind him sealed invisibly against the wooden clapboards—a type of building not built in the capital. He saw them on campaigns and tours in areas where there was slightly less permanency—especially with no Lord to save it nor young-growth woods to make sapling homes out of. The King's Wood was not something you wanted to cut frequently. It was one of the biggest mistakes by a peasant that Olbrecht turned a blind eye to.

He flipped around to punch the wall with his gauntlet-clad fist.

"I wouldn't do that."

Olbrecht looked back, startled, and found nobody save a cow. He closed his eyes and started counting down to cool his ire... 10... 9... 8... "Fuck this, it's stupid!"

His bellow made the cow lean away from him. "Quiet down! The witch will hear you!"

This time he caught it. The cow spoke. "What utter nonsense....nonnnn"

Somewhat like a clockwork soldier in mindset, Olbretch's mouth went on vacation while he started putting things together. The man wasn't by any means stupid—just arrogant, impatient, ridged to a fault, and his brother had kicked him in his emotional nadgers hard enough to get some spark of imagination rolling. "Cow, what story are we in?"

"Story?" The cow lowed slightly. "This be hell, sir knight."

The seriousness of the animal's remark sobered him into formal behavior: he bowed. "What kind of creatures are there here?"

"There's a witch with a house that walks on chicken legs. Her fence is made of the bones of men she kills. Most of the forest creatures are on her side, but some will tell you how to do her tasks."

"My, these stupid stories did have ridiculous quests, didn't they?" Olbrecht could feel the beginning of a headache forming. "Ok, cow, what should I do?"

"Do as the old lady demands, but listen to the animal's warnings."

"Do you have any more warnings for me?"

"Go out the door and pretend to walk up the path. You do not want her finding that door, Sir."

"Fuck, why did I get stuck with a sit-and-wait fairytale?!" Olbrecht fought against punching the door frame on his way out.

Fog covered the ground about waist high. Magpies whispered directions: "Over here!" "For cow's sake, over here!" under the cover of frosted pine trees. Soon he was led off and back around to the front of the witch's hut when the ground cleared. The fence around the hut and shed was made of bones—fresh, raw skeletons that still had their gristle on them. The pickets were mostly ribs interspersed with pedestals of pelvic bones on which their skulls rested, wicking an unnatural fire through the cap. The mandibles chattered and thigh bones groaned while the ribs produced something more akin to whistling through gaped teeth.

The abode was a small cottage that looked more like a lopsided gingerbread house decorated with half-chewed gumdrops. It shifted and clucked as he slowed down.

The clapboard shed? It was huddled to the side, forlorn—honestly, the only normal thing about the place.

Olbrecht turned back towards the house only to come nose-to-chest with the owner of the macabre. He looked up...up further than that... Then finally came to rest in a visage straight from his personal childhood's hell. This was a woman—a very old woman at that—but she could pass for the knight he served under as a page. Same wiry muscle, same stubble, and same look of disgust meant to break a boy of 7 before he ever could make Squire.

There was a part of Olbrecht that nearly walked away right there—not due to fear, but to the instinct that this would be as much bullshit as his early training was. He could see what his brother meant by such stories not being made for older brothers. He had a personal grudge against the man, and this thing was stepping up into his place in the young Knight's life.

"Do you admire my spoils, boy?"

"I have some pity for the fence's men, ma'am, not interest." He bowed as he would to his instructor. "They don't seem to be resting well."

"They could use a good cleaning. If you do that, I'll give you a meal and a place to sleep. You fail? You'll join the fence."

Olbrecht didn't know what to answer to that, so he waited—the faint buzz of a fly whispered in his ear. He swore it said "We'll help, human."

He followed their lead by bowing to the monstrosity and gave the only answer worthy of himself, "It will be my pleasure."

The witch flounced back into her hut in disgust as the various small creatures of the land crawled over the fence to gnaw the bones clean.

Olbrecht stood with his arms crossed as best as he could in his plate mail. "What madness is this? Creeping beasts clean the bones and I stand here and take all credit?"

A crow circled the scene overhead, as many of the magpies had been since they directed him on his path back to the hut. It flitted closer to him. "May I land, M'Lord?"

"As long as you shitteth not? Sure." Olbrecht felt completely uneasy the longer he stared at the fence. As the growth cleared, the flame in the skulls dimmed and they began to age. Again, he asked himself, "What madness is this?"

The crow, close to his ear muttered. "Each of those is the knights that failed to keep the witch appeased. She ate them, turned their bones into a garden that can regrow flesh to sustain her when there isn't fresh meat at hand. She wanted those bones cleaned so there was no chance of them rising to your aid."

"So, I should not have done this?" Olbrecht about howled in frustration. Patience was not a virtue he tolerated well, and this was testing what little he held.

The crow laughed. "They would have been cleaned today without your help, food. This just gives you a chance to place the right head on the right pelvis, so they can regain their strength faster than she cleans them. She has a fondness for moving heads."

"So how do I do that?"

"The right head shines when it's near its body."

"Stay by me, crow. You creatures notice shiny quickly." The knight started with the leftmost skull and worked his way down the line, picking up each head to trade it onto its proper base, not really needing the bird's help with the task until he placed the last head and had a skull leftover. "What madness..."

"Yes, yes M'Lord, 'tis madness, all of it. Where the hell did Sir. Munim go?" The crow peered back and forth across the clearing. " Ah, he's the threshold for the cow shed. Hang his skull above the door and go in. The witch should be serving bear tonight."

Olbrecht was quick to comply.