Dragonworld: The Drive For Power

Part 17: The Key Of All Keys

The ghost of Bloodbeard

Sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing the entire room in a warm glow. Taufus inhaled deeply, savoring the fragrance of the large flowers blooming in the pot before him. 

"Time to celebrate Bloodbeard and his legacy," he heard a voice behind him say.  

"It's going to be a busy day," he replied while turning his head. His eyes glanced at the man standing behind him. 

He was taller than average, dark black hair covering his head. His colorful robe with flower patterns marked him as someone from the deep south of the country.

"Official Kallerius," continued Taufus. "What brings you up here?" 

The other man smiled.

"Same as you, my dear mage," replied the middle-aged official. 

Taufus nodded. 

"Bloodbeard's birthday," the mage stated, his head turning back to the flower pot. 

"I always look forward to this holiday," Kallerius said, his mouth breaking out into a grin, as he moved over to a table nearby. "Musicians ply their trade on street corners. People dance and are merry. Beer and wine replace water as the go to drinks of choice."

"Yes, lots of things happening," nodded Taufus. 

"The largest festivities this side of the Green Sea," remarked the southerner. 

"You are correct," said Taufus. 

"Despite dying centuries ago, Bloodbeard's birthday still triggers such grand commemorations across the realm," said the black-haired southerner, laughing. "Alcohol flows freely, in large quantities and at all hours."

"And it all starts so innocently, but then degenerates into quite the spectacle," continued the man. "Every year, the city of Akelon turns into a hole of drunken revelry. With ale turning to piss, a wretched smell overwhelms it, a smell that often takes months to clean up."

Taufus nodded silently. 

"Yet, such debauchery scarcely troubles the king," remarked the black haired official. 

"Ah, yes the king," said Taufus, his voice trailing off, hinting at trying to avoid this conversation. 

"Let the people have their pissing contests. The rest of the year they will have a hangover, and won't bother us. That's what he often says," added the southerner, seemingly happy to continue. 

"In the Western Lands, reverence for the ancestors stands as an integral part of our culture," Taufus suddenly switching, his voice projecting all  the way to the other side of the room. "Within the kingdom of Akelon, the sacred cult of the forbearers is woven into the very fabric of daily life, defining the core of our traditions."

"Ah yes, traditions," replied the blacked-haired court official, still smiling. "These days they only bring you headaches, our dear mage Taufus." 

Taufus nodded. To open up the festivities, the tradition was for the king to hold a small prayer next to Bloodbeard's tomb. A limited set of people were usually invited to take part.

This year like every year, a private ceremony honoring the founder of the dynasty was to be held in the family crypt. True to custom, the orchestration of the proceedings fell under the watchful eye of the assistant diviner. Taufus Lanse.

In that instant, the door to the room opened, and in came a man dressed in golden robes, a large golden necklace around his neck.

"Taufus, we will need to go down to the tomb to arrange everything," said Rakat Munikus, the chief diviner of the kingdom, out of breath.  He was to preside over the prayer.