23/12/08
It was impossible to cross the rocks by the time they reached the head, a shelf of stone plunging out into the sea, claiming a part of the ocean that the water seemed determined to take back. The waves crashed against Land’s End ceaselessly, a constant battering that should have weakened the land’s tenuous grip over time, and yet Land’s End held its ground.
A tiny harbour was nestled into the northern crevices where a series of long outcropping provided just enough shelter to moor boats. At one point, a road had led to the harbour, but all that was left of that trail now was a bear patch of rock that had had all traces of plantlife wiped away from the frequent treading of feet. Just getting a ship in was a somewhat hopeless feat, the sharp rocks rendering the old shipping lane nearly impassable. Indeed, if Land’s End had ever been a busy harbour, it was a long time ago, possibly as old as Serylla’s Ruins themselves.
Despite all that, a boat was in the water.
“It’s them!” Leve shouted.
Breathlessly, Gilbetron hurried past the last twist in the path. He looked down at the ship, which seemed to be preparing to leave berth.
“We made it,” he said determinedly. “We have to get down there. We don’t have much time!”
He began scrambling down the rocks, slipping in places by loose stones beneath the soles of his boots, but he always kept his balance, his fingers whitening on sharp ledges that cut deep sending slim rivulets of red blood down his palms and onto his wrists. He hardly noticed, his eyes fastened on the boat.
It was an old style ship, probably once in the Lystrian Navy before it had been wiped out in the Siege of Romyna Bay. It was said no vessels had survived Bobolonious’s ruthless onslaught, but Gilbetron could now see the fate of the fleet had been slightly exaggerated.
Telematrice was on the deck, along with six other women, all seemingly identical. Yet Gilbetron recognized her, at least he thought he did. He inability to tell the difference had gotten them all into this mess in the first place, but with the crystal the differences now seemed as obvious as night and day. His wife stood near the bow, radiant despite her grey cloak and chained wrists. The shackles caused blood to rush to his face. Filled with rage, he moved quicker than ever, descending as fast as gravity could safely pull him.
“Look out!”
The voice had come from above — he thought it was Nieka — but he had no time to react before a cloud of arrows filled the sky in front of him, their steel points racing toward him. One of the blades sunk deeply into his shin, causing him to slip. He fell the rest of the way, crashing into a blunt rock. For a moment, he forgot where he was, until water from the incoming tide lapped at his face.
Telematrice…
He heaved himself up, ready to continue toward the dock at any cost. But when he turned to look behind him, to check on the others, his eyes fell on a limp body hurled over a ledge at an unnatural angle.
“Nieka,” he whispered, momentarily ignoring the boat to race to the woman’s side. Blood was pulsing through an open wound on her side, dripping off the ledge and mingling with a pool of seawater. Her left arm was badly mangled, broken in at least three spots, with the elbow protruding backward at a right angle. He wiped a streak of blood off his cheek and hopped over to her.
“Gilbetron!” a voice shouted. It was Telematrice’s voice. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time he’d heard it. He couldn’t remember.
He twisted his neck around to watch the boat pulling out into open water. If he dove in, he could swim to it. It wasn’t too late. He could catch up.
But Nieka… Her chest suddenly lifted, breath sounds rattling in her throat. Could it be that she had survived the fall? One eye cracked open, just barely, and he could see her pupil darting beneath, searching for something —
Searching for him.
“Gilbetron!” Telematrice called again.
A single tear streaked down his cheek as he stood perfectly still, ready to either dive into the water or carry Nieka to safety.
“The healing rock cures all ailments with a single touch, save death,” Kesprit had said. Was it possible?
He looked out to sea, where the boat was passing beyond the outer rocks. Telematrice had stopped shouting, her arms dropped resignedly to her sides.
He blinked away another tear and made his decision. Thrusting his arms under Nieka to steady her, he raised her up. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Leve scrambling toward them, already ripping off a strip of cloth to use as a tourniquet.
“Gilbetron!”
But he knew it was too late.
-from The Gilbetron Tales.
Some resources:
The Joyous Days: An Orientation
The Gilbetron Tales: A Complete Archive
At last, we come to the end. It’s not exactly an end, of course, since there is always more to come. But it an end… for now. I hope you enjoyed this year’s collection of stories.
Anyway, and now for the photo we’ve been leading up to, a pivotal piece of this year’s story: Land’s End.
Taken: Month of Netylia, 32nd Day, 985 AG
Land’s End West comprises a narrow finger of land that protrudes from the mainland via the westernmost extension of the Geldstrof Range. It is the further point of land to the west and is completely uninhabited today, though it is known to have had some mysterious archaeological significance in the distant past. This location shouldn’t be confused with Land’s End East, which is the most distant point of land on the opposite shore of Gilbetronia.
Oh, and… Merry Christmas.
22/12/08
Spring Rock stuck out of the grass at an unnatural angle, its water bubbling to the top of the pool in tiny clusters. The spring flowed west, cutting through a gorge in the annular cliff-face that ringed around them. All three stood in the middle of the crater with their mouths hanging slightly open, words failing them.
“It feels strange, doesn’t it?” Nieka wondered. “I mean, it isn’t just me, right?”
Leve nodded solemnly. “It’s like a tingling beneath my skin, except it seems to come from the air. It feels very much like the stories.”
They had come to the Eye of the West early in the day, hoping to push on toward Land’s End before nightfall. But it was impossible to pass by the strange location without stopping to investigate. The grass was such a deep shade of green and the air so crisp…
But the most impressive features were the crystal sprouting out of the rock like pedestals. Gilbetron couldn’t help but notice they were made of a remarkably similar consistency as the small crystal he carried in his breastpocket. Taking it out to compare the two side by side, the crystals almost seemed to sing to each other inaudibly. It wasn’t sound passing between them so much as vibration.
He was so distracted by the hexagonal formations that he failed to hear the sounds of men approaching. By the time he looked up, at least a hundred bows were pointed down at them from the edges of the surrounding cliffs. Stepping back from the crystal, he raised a hand, the crystal clutched tightly in his fist.
“What is your business?” one of the men asked. Gilbetron spun around to try to identify the speaker, but nobody seemed willing to step forward.
“I am Lord Gilbetron of the Western Territories,” he began. “I was told to—”
“Whatever you were told, you do not have permission to pass through these lands. They belong to us, me and my fellow tribesmen. We claim the fields south of Geldstrof as far as they stretch, out to the sea. Do you challenge that claim?”
“I haven’t come to challenge you,” Gilbetron said, maintaining a level tone. “We just wanted a look at the place. We have business at Land’s End and cannot be detained.”
There was some scuffling along the ridge, and now a second voice responded. “Lord Gilbetron, did you say?”
“Yes,” he replied unsteadily. “My name is Gilbetron.”
Another moment passed as a small group discussed this fact amongst themselves. Quickly, one man walked away from the others and began briskly walking down a stairway cut from the rock. Within moments, he was approaching Spring Rock and the three traveling companions.
Leve was about to intervene, but Gilbetron put out a hand to hold the man back. “No, Leve,” he told him. “Let me handle this.”
Before Gilbetron could address the tribesman, he got down on his knees and bowed deeply, almost touching his nose to the ground.
“The rocks told us you would come,” he intoned reverently. “We have waited some time for your arrival.”
“How much time?” Gilbetron asked.
“Fourteen years,” the tribesman answered. He brought his face up once again to look Gilbetron in the eye. “You have returned a fragment, I see.”
To his surprise, Gilbetron realized he had opened his fist and laid out the small crystal on his palm for the others to look at.
“It is from the Rock of Discernment,” the tribesman explained. “It has answered your questions?”
Gilbetron hesitated. “It has answered some.”
“Only the ones you have dared to ask,” came the reply. “For others, you fear the answers. It is foolish to fear knowledge, my lord.”
Nieka stepped forward from the horses. “I count three crystal formations, yet you mentioned only one. The Rock of Discernment. What are the others?”
“This one fears nothing,” the tribesman observed. “There is the Rock of Return and the Rock of Healing. The healing rock cures all ailments with a single touch, save death. The Rock of Return stands guard for the coming of the Rockmakers. Like you, they will return someday soon.”
“What is your name, tribesman?” Gilbetron asked.
The man bowed a second time. “Kesprit,” he said. “But calling me by name is an honor not earned, my lord.”
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Kesprit looked up to the others on the ridge, signalling them to stand down. Once their bows were retracted, he turned back to Gilbetron.
“I pray it is no imposition, but may I inspect your rock?” he asked.
Gilbetron held out the crystal fragment for the tribesman, who took it in his hand. The moment it touched his skin, his face turned a deathly shade of white. The longer it remained in his palm, the more difficulty he had drawing breath. His neck straining, his eyes growing wide, he finally let go and let the crystal slip from his hand. It fell into the grass.
Leve dove for it quickly, not wanting to lose sight of it in the thick carpet of green. Gilbetron, however, reached forward to take Kesprit by the arm and lift him up off his knees. Once he was certain the tribesman was better, he let go.
“You must continue on,” Kesprit breathed. “It is a matter of some urgency.” His breath laboured, he stumbled back, falling again. “She… requires your… assistance. You must go to her.”
-from The Gilbetron Tales.
Some resources:
The Joyous Days: An Orientation
The Gilbetron Tales: A Complete Archive
Alas, we have come nearly to the end of the Joyous Days. They come and go so quickly. Yet, do not despair. There is always next year’s celebration! Come back tomorrow for this year’s final excerpt from the Gilbetron Tales. This year’s story certainly has come to an exciting climax!
Following bold images from other fortresses like Lystria Castle and Maradon Palace comes one of the most impressive residences in all the country:
Taken: Month of Distrylia, 3rdDay, 991 AG
Heights Manor is located in the upper reaches of the Central Mountains. It sits above the cloudline 400 days of the year, making it virtually impenetrable. Historically, it belongs to House Draco, though the last Draco heir died more than 70 years ago. It currently sits in trust, having fended off several siege attempts by Lord Bobolonious during the Occupation of Lystria. It is currently up to Lady Telematrice to formally choose a new tenant. This decision is highly political, however, and it is seen to be more politically advantageous at present to leave it unoccupied.
21/12/08
They had to stop once in the lonely pass for rest. Gilbetron and Leve alternated standing guard at night, in case animals came hunting. In case of attack, there would be nowhere to run, but at least they could fight. The other concern was that it was pitch black where they laid out their blankets. The cliff walls on either side obstructed all light except the dim glows offered by the small handful of stars that shone down from directly overhead.
Fortunately, the night passed without incident. By midmorning, they had cleared the pass, finding themselves in a hilly region covered in green. There weren’t any trees to speak of in any direction, though the faint hint of salt in the air gave away the presence of a nearby coast.
“Could it be Land’s End already?” Nieka asked as they prepared to continue toward the sound of crashing waves.
“Can’t be,” Gilbetron said. “By my estimation, we’re still two or three days away. This must be the Bay of Beauregard. That would, at least, account for the heat and humidity.”
Leve simply smiled. “Lucky for you, I’ve been here before.” When Nieka asked him when, he merely shrugged. “I’m from Ojikilsdsjawyk.” The woman frowned, trying in vain to put the sounds together. “Don’t bother trying to pronounce it. It’s impossible unless you’re from here. Anyway, the village is a little east of here in Maradon Province. Incidentally, it’s where I first met Telematrice.”
“Under dubious circumstances,” Gilbetron added.
“Yes, that’s true,” the man admitted. “Dubious seems as good a word as any.” He straightened in his saddly. “The point is, if we head due west, we’ll run into the road again. We’re directly south of the Geldstrofs, too, so I reckon the Eye is close. It may be worth taking a look at.”
Nieka shook her head. “I doubt we have the time. If what you say is true, we still have a lot of ground to cover—”
“No,” Gilbetron interrupted. “We’ll stop at the Eye.”
Nieka’s eyes went wide with surprise. “Why? I don’t understand. Aren’t you in as big a hurry as any of us?” She rolled her eyes suddenly, understanding. “Don’t tell me it’s that damned crystal again.”
“It won’t be out of our way,” Gilbetron insisted. “Unless I miss my guess, our route to the harbour will take us straight through the Eye, straight to the Spring Rock.”
-from The Gilbetron Tales.
Some resources:
The Joyous Days: An Orientation
The Gilbetron Tales: A Complete Archive
It’s true that most of the inhabited regions of Gilbetronia are in the southern half of the country, but aside from the Winterland and Wysshylna, the northern lands are anything but wasteland. Nowhere is this more true than in Old Fort:
Taken: Month of Hezkya, 16th Day, 1000 AG
Old Fort is a small community on the northern shore, formerly a great port city in the days of trade between Gilbetronia and the Northlands across the ocean. Since trade dried up, though, Old Fort has declined. Its natural beauty, however, remain unmatched. With its beaches covered in snow five months of the year, it is cold, but that cold serves mainly to preserve it from human interference. The Arkady Mountains are visible to the south.
20/12/08
“We’ll never be able to cross on foot,” Nieka commented. She rode second in line, Gilbetron ahead and Leve behind, ostensibly to protect her in case of danger. She hated to feel like she needed to be protected, but an entire day of trying to express the sentiment had fallen on deaf ears.
This observation, however, was heard loud and clear.
“I hate to be a downer, Gil,” Leve said, nodding agreement, “but the girl’s got a point. Those mountains run seemlessly.”
Gilbetron hated that Leve had taken to calling him ‘Gil,’ but he no longer pointed it out. “The crystal will show us a way,” he assured them.
Leve laughed irreverently. “I’m not sure what to be more concerned about, the fact that we’re being led around by a glorified rock or that you’re comfortable with that.”
“It’s been right so far,” Nieka said. “We didn’t think it made sense to leave the road initially, but we’ve saved ourselves at least a full day getting here.”
“And a full day saved could make all the difference in the end,” Gilbetron pointed out.”
There was no more debate on the subject as the sun crossed the eastern sky. The further south they travelled, the hotter it became. He knew Maradon was perpetually warm, but these temperatures were sweltering. If they came across a mountain stream that afternoon, he wouldn’t hesitate to jump into it.
By mid-afternoon, they had nearly passed out of the foothills and into more rugged terrain. By adjusting their line of approach throughout the day as the crystal indicated, they found themselves following a narrow, twisting valley between some spectacularly tall cliffs.
“It looks like this will be our way through,” Gilbetron said as he slowed his horse down where two cliffs closed together to form the entrance. They could only see the first few hundred feet of passage before it took an abrupt turn to the west. He hesitated to enter, knowing it would be the perfect spot for an ambush.
But we’re not being followed, he reminded himself, and as far as we know nobody’s waiting for us at the other end. Leve said we aren’t expected.
“I don’t know about this,” Leve said, voicing his concerns. “How do we know this leads anywhere? For all we know, it could deadend at the base of a mountain. If we get stuck in there, we could be lost for days. We should stay on this side of the mountains and track a path west. Maybe we can find a way around them.”
“No,” Gilbetron said. “The crystal led us here for a reason. If we deviate from our course, we could arrive too late to do any good. Telematrice is counting on us.”
Nieka sighed. Her mind told her to agree with Leve, to listen to reason, but her heart knew better.
-from The Gilbetron Tales.
Some resources:
The Joyous Days: An Orientation
The Gilbetron Tales: A Complete Archive
The Bay of Beauregard, in winter:
Taken: Month of Narand, 35th Day, 999 AG
The pristine Beauregard Coast is a hassle to travel to, and so it is rarely visited. However, it boasts some of the most impressive shores and private beaches in all Gilbetronia. This particular view is taken just a few milometers south of the Eye of the West. They serve as a prime reminder of the inherent loveliness of the western frontiers, since many of the Lystrian beaches are either barren or overpopulated.
19/12/08
It had been a difficult two days crossing the plateaus. There had been a brief breath of civilization on the second day when their path intersected with the Horatio Stem winding its way between Fort Reginald and Maradon Province. The moment the road had come into sight, hope had lurched into Gilbetron’s heart that the crystal might point them down along it. Unfortunately, the mere glance southward down the road caused the crystal to slow its rhythmic pulse. He’d worked with it long enough to know that was a bad sign. It seemed they were destined to continue through the wilderness.
He resolved to write about his experiences when he returned to the Fort, and perhaps even collect them into a book. No doubt his wanderings would be the source of a great deal of historical interest. This particular journey seemed at least worthy of a footnote in the Lystrian archives.
They made camp along the road, as the sun was already teetering low on the horizon. No need to return to the middle of nowhere until there was at least enough daylight to properly see where they were going. The Drennedels were looming nearer with each passing day, and the closer they got the more frequent were the rocky gorges that heralded the larger impediments still to come.
Just before laying down for the night, Nieka called out his name. She was standing by the fire looking north where a rider was fast approaching. Gilbetron jumped to his feet and stood conspicuously in the middle of the road.
The rider slowed, spotting the pair. When he came near enough to see their faces, he tossed back his own hood. Gilbetron was startled to find Leve looking back down at him.
“Leve!” he cried disdainfully. “I thought you were in Lystria. Last I saw, you and Memorex were holding court together. Now that Telematrice is out of the way, you can—”
“I’ve been riding five days to catch up with you,” Leve said breathlessly, ignoring Gilbetron’s words. “When I reached the Fort without encountering you, I determined that you’d gone south. I’m glad to see I was right.”
Thrown off, Gilbetron hardly knew what to say next. It was so easy to hate Telematrice’s former lover. Was it possible he’d misjudged the man? What an uncomfortable thought that was.
“I don’t understand,” was all he managed.
“After all the trouble I’ve gone to locating you, the least you could do is give me the benefit of the doubt,” Leve said. “I have some information for you. Information you’ll need if you want to save your wife.”
Gilbetron narrowed his eyes. “What kind of information?”
“She and the others are being taken to Land’s End in the west. There’s a boat harboured there ready to take them away. As long as they’re offshore, the new Lady Telematrice believes she’ll have undisputed power over both Lystria and the Western Territories. The boat’s captain is to send them into exile, to insure they get far enough away to never again raise a claim to the Lystrian throne.”
It was a lot to take in. “Why are you telling me this?” Gilbetron asked.
“Because it’s the right thing to do. Telematrice may be your wife, but I’ve always cared for her, too. You don’t have a monopoly on that. She’s a good queen. She doesn’t deserve this, and neither do any of the others.” He took a deep breath. “I want to help, Gilbetron. Please let me.”
-from The Gilbetron Tales.
Some resources:
The Joyous Days: An Orientation
The Gilbetron Tales: A Complete Archive
Here’s another rarely visited landmark for you all, Dry Creek Canyon.
Taken: Month of Pensyeve, 982 AG
Dry Creek Canyon lies north of the Mountains of Mariayh. Not as bone dry as the dune sea that is the Peninsular Desert, the area around the canyon experiences annual torrential rains, resulting in the formation of Dry Creek, a canyon cut deep into the soft limestone foothills. Though dry fourteen months of the year, the creek drains north into the Bay of Romyna. The views both from the creek bed as well as the surrounding canyon walls are absolutely spectacular at all times of year.
18/12/08
Gilbetron stood at the edge of the roadway and looked south. The crystal had led them nearly all the way to Fort Reginald before suddenly demanding a turn south. The only problem with that was that there was absolutely nothing in that direction was rocky plateau, some of it difficult to navigate. There would be no trails or villages for several days, if any at all, and eventually they would have to cross the Drennedel Mountains. Without being able to access any known passes, the passage would be extremely difficult.
“It wants us to head southwest,” he proclaimed once Nieka came back into earshot. She had been a few feet away tending to the horses.
For a moment, she looked confused. “But the road takes us northwest,” she said.
“It must want us to go offroad. I had hoped we could pass through the Fort, and perhaps even continue on to the coast north of Land’s End,” he explained. “I know the land there. I’ve travelled it dozens of times. But I’ve never ventured into the plateaus, and I don’t even know anybody who has.”
“Do you suppose Telematrice and the others are being hidden in the plateaus?” she said.
He frowned. It didn’t make sense. “No,” he admitted. “The only theory that makes sense is that they’re being taken off Gilbetronia altogether.”
“Why couldn’t Lady Tele—” She broke off suddenly, remembering herself. “I’m sorry. I mean, the Usurper. Why couldn’t she simply have the other women of the Telematric killed? Why bother secreting them someplace off the coast? It seems like a ten coin solution to a one coin problem.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Gilbetron assured her. “You see, the Telematrix was created by the Mysts of Wysshylna for Reginald XXVII. In order to defeat him, the Telematrix had to take an oath with one another to protect each other from bodily harm. To break that oath, by either killing or injuring another Telematrice, would bring down the wrath of the Mysts.”
Nieka looked at him wide-eyed. “What does that even mean?”
“Nobody knows for sure, but the last time an oath was broken hundreds of lives were taken in payment, including that of Reginald XXVII. The Telematrice currently sitting on the throne can only send them into exile. It’s a dangerous game she’s playing. There’s got to be more to her plot than mere lust for power.”
“I don’t know the crystal like you do, but if it’s telling us to head south, we should do it. Your wife’s life could depend on it.”
He nodded gravely, looking off to the southwest where daylight was already beginning to fade.
“It’ll be a tough ride, and I don’t know the way,” he said at last, clenching his fist. But maybe the crystal does.
-from The Gilbetron Tales.
Some resources:
The Joyous Days: An Orientation
The Gilbetron Tales: A Complete Archive
Continuing on with yesterday’s themes of mysterious location, here’s a puzzler that’ll be sure to get your mind racing.
Without further ado, the Ruins at Serylla:
Taken: Month of Bedzyle, 986 AG
Civilization in the southern tropics can be traced back no later than two thousand years ago, suggesting that its first settlers came from a distant land across the ocean (unlikely Northland, since it’s in the wrong direction). The Ruins at Serylla, however, seem to defy any explanation since they are consistently dated to be over three thousand years old. Now located over four hundred milometers inland from the southern coast, this ancient harbour city boasts a number of architectural staples absent from other major historical sites in Gilbetronia. So who built the city, and when? Debate at Lystria University is ongoing.
17/12/08
It turned out that Nieka made for a good travelling companion, though not as good as his wife. He fondly remembered the last trip he’d taken with Telematrice — the real one — just three weeks ago. They had travelled crosscountry from Wysshylna to the capital through the mountains. In fact, they had taken the same road Gilbetron now found himself on, La Monde-est-Pieux highway.
The pass loomed ahead of them, the peaks of the Byn Genea Range dominating the northern horizon. Mount Farad’cella, the tallest point in Gilbetronia, seemed close enough to touch. It was an optical illusion Gilbetron had grown fond of. In truth, Farad’cella was over eighty milometers north of the road. He wondered how many people had ever gotten up close.
Not many, he guessed. There’s two dozen impassable gorges between here and there. It’s almost like the Creator intended for it to be unreachable.
“How far until the next stop?” Nieka asked. If there was even the slightest note of complaint in her voice, Gilbetron couldn’t detect it.
Gilbetron readjusted his pack and slowed his horse as they navigated their way around a particularly treacherous stretch of road. Just a few feet of the south side of the path, the ground fell away precipitously. It was nearly five hundred feet to the bottom, he was sure.
“There’s an inn on the other side of the pass, though it’s still a good seven or eight hour ride from here,” Gilbetron replied. “I’m afraid there aren’t many good places to rest up in the Heights like this.”
Nieka didn’t look back for fear of losing her bearings. How depressing would it be for her to die driving herself off the edge of a cliff, an end of her own making, when she still had vengeance for her father’s murder on the mind… She focused her eyes again, unwilling to so much as blink.
“The most rugged terrain I’d ever seen before today were the Delta Rocks,” she admitted, acknowledging her travelling companion’s good-natured laugh with a slight incline of the head. “I know, that must not seem like much, but when I was little I couldn’t imagine anything taller.”
“I grew up in the Winterland,” Gilbetron said, “so I know exactly what you mean. It’s so flat up there, you could ride two days from home and never lose sight of it. Cold, too, bitterly cold.”
After a few more minutes of riding, Nieka asked, “I don’t suppose you’ve had any more help from that crystal of yours?”
Gilbetron chuckled softly. “Nope, not really, but I’m certain Telematrice was taken west. There are too many prying eyes in the Lystrian territories to keep the abduction secret for long. The western frontiers offer a lot more privacy. It’s one of the reasons I prefer it out here.”
“You think we’ll get to her in time?”
“Well, we’ll have to,” he said.
“Still,” she murmured, “I’d feel a lot better if your crystal lit up or starting shaking or did whatever it is it’s supposed to be able to do.”
As though on cue, he felt a sudden stirring from his jacket pocket. Smiling broadly, he gave the pocket a light pat and gazed out over the western frontier.
Hold on, Telematrice, he thought. I’m coming for you.
-from The Gilbetron Tales.
Some resources:
The Joyous Days: An Orientation
The Gilbetron Tales: A Complete Archive
As promised, some of the best and most interesting. images of this photographic tour are still to come. In fact, today’s offering is something of a mystery.
The Peninsular Desert:
Taken: Month of Pyrstal, 10th Day, 954 AG
This particular image was located a number of years ago in Lystria’s historical archive. How a photo of the inner Peninsular Desert came to be there is something of a mystery, since nobody has ventured past Olingard Fortress in about a hundred years and lived to tell of it. At least, nobody that we know about! Anyway, little can be said about the desert with any certainty except that it is absolutely barren of all forms of recognizable plant life. According to legends, the dunes are so deep that, due to their constantly shifting, it is virtually impossible to traverse the desert on foot.
16/12/08
Gilbetron managed to talk Nieka out of continuing on to Lystria. If she was hoping that Telematrice would suddenly experience a wave of regret upon the presentation of a Question, even one implicating her of murdering a nobleman, she would be sadly mistaken. It’s not that Telematrice didn’t have a heart; it’s just that this Telematrice didn’t.
He couldn’t deny Nieka her moment of surprise.
At some point during the last few months, one of the surviving Telematric had begun replacing his wife’s Sisterhood one by one. The interloper must have stolen or found some means of tricking Telematrice’s sceptre. The entire Sisterhood had pledged their fealty to Telematrice on it years ago, following the Massacre of 993. But perhap one of their number had never taken that oath.
“An impostor sits on the throne of Lystria,” Gilbetron spat, “and my wife has been taken. We have to rescue her, and the rest of the Sisterhood, too. Who knows where they’ve been taken?”
“We?” Nieka asked, taken aback. “What do you need me for? All I came for was to exact revenge on my father’s murderer. Now that I know what other crimes have been committed, I’m more convinced than ever to make her pay.”
Gibletron sighed. “And how are you going to do that?”
“I’ll think of something,” she said. “I’m not as helpless as people take me for.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” Gilbetron agreed. “But your family took a blood oath to serve the Royal Line. If it wasn’t for Telematrice and myself, Nabon would still be under Bobolonious’s occupation. You owe us your freedom, Nieka. How can you turn your back on her?”
Nieka sat down heavily in the a wooden chair by the door. “You said yourself that you don’t know where they’ve gone.”
“Yes, but I have a secret weapon.” He dug into his pocket and held up the small crystal. “This crystal led me to you for a reason, and now I believe it will lead me to Telematrice.”
“Where did you get it?”
“From a man… I think, anyway.” He scratched his head irritably. “I actually don’t know, but a cloaked man gave it to me in Lystria. He told me it would help me find what I search for. The moment I came into contact with me, it began to glow.”
Nieka gestured broadly. “All right, Lord. Then lead the way.”
He closed his eyes and slowly began turning in a circle, waiting for the crystal to give some indication. When he had completed the circle without any hints from the crystal, he popped his eyes open. He shrugged, and pointed to the room’s only door.
“Well, the door seems as good a place to start as any.”
-from The Gilbetron Tales.
Some resources:
The Joyous Days: An Orientation
The Gilbetron Tales: A Complete Archive
As the Joyous Days continue on (today we pass the halfway mark!), get ready for some of the most impressing and awe-inspiring vistas of all. If you’re not already booking your vacations in Gilbetronia, you obviously haven’t been paying much attention!
Brace yourself, everyone. Coming at you, the White Falls:
Taken: Month of Culynar, 18th Day, 997 AG
Sitting at the converge of the Queen’s River and Beulah River, the White Falls are a legendary site of both spiritual and geological significance. The falls are a result of heavy year-long rains in Maradon Province coupled with the rapid flowing streams driving south from the Central Mountains. The ten milometer long precipice was formed by a tectonic event over nine centuries ago. A number of frontier tribes in the west make annual pilgrimmages to the Falls, though it is unknown whether or not they are guided by a common mythology of its creation.
15/12/08
Memorex pushed open the heavy set of doors and stepped into the Court of Petitions. Lady Telematrice was sitting on her throne at the end of the chamber, flanked on both sides by city magistrates. The chief of staff brushed past a petitioner on her way out, already gesturing for the magistrates to give them a few minutes of privacy.
Once the others had cleared out, Memorex sat next to Telematrice on her right side, settling her arms down on the massive stone armrests. She took a moment to admire the room’s design. A circular bay of east-facing windows bathed the room in soft morning light. From the throne dias, there was no part of the room lacking a direct line of sight.
“Lady,” Memorex started, “sentries from the west gate have informed me that Lord Gilbetron departed the city late yesterday afternoon. Presumably, he’s returning to Fort Reginald. I’m sure our eyes and ears in the west will keep us appraised of his location at all times, as you requested.”
“Then he’s not suspicious?” Telematrice inquired.
“It doesn’t seem so.”
Telematrice threw her head back and released a high-pitched peel of laughter that bounced echoingly off the lofty walls and ceilings. “My ‘husband’ is an idiot, then. I can’t imagine what she, or any of the others, ever saw in him.”
“It is one of the enduring mysteries of our time, to be sure,” Memorex agreed. “Which brings me to the second bit of news I promised. I’ve just heard from the prison wagon, and they’ve nearly reached Land’s End. Your counterparts should be on the water by this time tomorrow.”
“That is good news, Memorex,” Telematrice said. “Thank you.” And then, as though an afterthought, she added, “I want to know the second that boat leaves the harbour. Understood?”
Memorex stood again and bowed deeply. “Of course, Lady. In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Telematrice smiled to herself as her chief of staff crossed the room. Within moments, the two magistrates had reappeared at her side. She glanced at them, replacing her good mood with a look of absolute boredom.
“Send in the next petitioner,” she said.
-from The Gilbetron Tales.
Some resources:
The Joyous Days: An Orientation
The Gilbetron Tales: A Complete Archive
Lord Gilbetron would like to thank everybody who helped out by submitting their pictures to the Postcard Campaign. For the next nine days, just sit back and enjoy the show.
Feast your eyes on this, the Boundary Islands:
Taken: Month of Pensyeve, 990 AG
There are five islands in the Boundary Islands group, located south of Queen’s Retreat. Karygan Island is generally not included in the grouping, as it is considered to be an extension of the mainland. The largest island, Merrala, is home to be a military garrison that was first built to keep a watchful eye on the Mariayhan coastal region, though it sat unoccupied for most of its history. It was reactivated following Bobolonious’s rise to power in the Peninsular Desert. Currently, seventeen officers are stationed there.
14/12/08
Gilbetron shut the door behind them to make sure nobody was listening in. Knowing the sort of advice Telematrice was getting lately, there was always the possibility that she was having him tailed all the way back to the Western Territories. He felt a sudden pang in his chest as he thought about her and how poorly their last meeting had gone.
I simply have to accept that our marriage could be beyond repair, he told himself. But no matter how soothingly he said those words to himself, the sting of the breakup remained.
“My name is Nieka,” she said once they were sitting. “Nieka Arynel. I’m on my way to Lystria to see the Lady Telematrice.”
“She is very difficult to get an audience with these days,” he noted. He felt uncomfortable saying any more on the subject, such as the fact that he, her husband, could hardly get face time with her.
She cleared her throat, looking up defiantly. “She must see me. By law, I have the right to declare a Question with the Royal Clerk.”
A Question, hmm? he mused. Why didn’t I think of that? Perhaps I yet will, after she’s had some more time to cool down and think things through.
“If you don’t mind discussing it, what Question do you intend to ask?”
“I will demand she explain why she killed my father, Sir Babcock, in cold blood.”
The young woman’s declaration sent shivers cascading down his spine. “Killed him? In cold blood, you say? I suppose you mean that she had him killed.”
“No,” she corrected. “She did it personally, with the help of her coachman. I was held back while she beheaded his corpse on the floor of the audience chamber of Nabon.”
Gilbetron paused, wrinkling his forehead in thought. Undoubtedly, she passionately believed what she was saying, and yet her story didn’t quite check out. Certainly Telematrice had ordered the twelve executions, but she had remained in Lystria while they were carried out. I was with her when the report was issued that the men had all been accounted for. The four days preceding were all spent in the castle. There must be some mistake.
“What was the date?” Gilbetron asked.
She frowned. “Excuse me, the date?”
“Yes, Nieka, the date of the incident. What day was it that Lady Telematrice arrived in Nabon?”
“It was eleven days ago, Lord,” Nieka said. “I remember quite clearly, since a state funeral was held two days after, time enough to make the body presentable. Or so the coroner informed me. I left the day after the funeral, and have been on the road ever since. It is a seven-day ride from Nabon to Lystria.”
The timeframe certainly checks out, Gilbetron admitted. Yet it could not have been Telematrice who carried out the crime.
“Are you absolutely certain it was the Lady Telematrice.”
She cocked her head to the side and looked at him as though he had grown a second head. “I have been called flightly by more than one man, but I could not have been mistaken. As I’m certain you will agree, the Lady Telematrice is quite striking.”
He couldn’t argue with her there. But perhaps it was merely one who looked like Telematrice. Surely there could be found some…
He trailed off, his breath catching suddenly in his throat. There was an explanation, though it was impossible to accept. Just considering it made him want to scream in anguish. Reining himself, he did not.
-from The Gilbetron Tales.
Some resources:
The Joyous Days: An Orientation
The Gilbetron Tales: A Complete Archive
LORD GILBETRON NEEDS YOUR HELP — FINAL CALL!
Today is your last chance to enter Lord Gilbetron’s Postcard Campaign. There are nearly enough submissions to fill out the rest of the days, though there are still a small number of spaces remaining. Don’t miss out on this exciting opportunity to contribute to the history books.
Today’s picture was taken somewhere in the heights above the Puon’cella River:
Taken: Month of Distrylia, 12th Day, 1001 AG
The Puon’cella River begins as a stream in the Byn Genea Range of the Central Mountains. It flows northeast from the Armistice Line before snaking its way back southeast toward Lystria. The Puon’cella is known for its many switchbacks downstream, making it nearly impossible to ford. This picture is taken in Chys Province at its narrowest point, just twenty miles from its source. Because of the altitude, this region is extremely difficult to access.
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