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Corpus Tamrielicum - The Imperial Library

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[63] A TALE OF KIERAN<br />

milk. "Why," he cried aloud, "am I treated so unjustly by the old buffoon? Were it not for my<br />

skills, the border contest, mayhaps even the kingdom itself, might have been lost. I deserve<br />

more. I deserve the crown. To give it to that primping simpering daughter of his, who thinks<br />

naught of more than her own whim, is a slap more stinging than that of gauntlet. I will have<br />

justice. I will demonstrate, amply, for all to see, wherein lies true power."<br />

<strong>The</strong>reupon, Loziard made his preparations. Princess Einlea's birthday came on a summer<br />

morning. Everyone within the city, and from the farms without, gathered to the palace for the<br />

festival. Banners waved from every rooftop. Fiddlers fiddled and dancers danced. Bakers<br />

baked wonderful sweets for the occasion. It was a day long to be remembered. At noon,<br />

precisely, King Caladan and Princess Einlea emerged onto the main balcony to the cheers of<br />

the kingdom. "Good citizens of Trowbridge," called the King, "We are but a tiny kingdom,<br />

but we prosper, do we not?" Loud hails (mostly) erupted from the crowd below. Encouraged,<br />

Caladan continued, "But now I am an old man. <strong>The</strong> day has arrived when younger blood can<br />

better attend to the needs and events of the kingdom. My subjects ... My loyal subjects and<br />

friends ... It is with honour ...and pride ...and the greatest of expectations ...that I transfer my<br />

kingdom and my crown to my loving daughter. To one and all, I give you" (a long pause here)<br />

"Einlea."<br />

As cheers filled the air, Caladan made a grand, sweeping gesture with his arm, intending to<br />

make the presentation as spectacular as the pride that filled him. His robe went "swoooosh"<br />

and his hand pointed to ... nobody. What was this? Where had she gone? Where Einlea had<br />

been, moments earlier, there now was naught but vacant air. "Er ...Einlea ...?" he called,<br />

uncertainly. But there was no response. Silence fell over park and courtyard. People glanced<br />

at each other nervously. Old Loziard clapped his hands in glee. He danced. He hugged<br />

himself with uncontained laughter. "How wonderful ..." he cried. "What a breathtakingly<br />

stunning and talented a wizard I am.." For what he had done, of course, was to rid himself of<br />

Einlea for once and for all. With one stroke, crafty and evil, he had removed the vain creature<br />

from the palace. Nought else remained between him and that which he desired.<br />

Now, magic is a tricky thing. Like all forces in the world, it must be kept in balance. As<br />

surely as day balances night and summer balances winter, so too must positive magic balance<br />

negative. For every hurtful or destructive spell, there must be an act of equal goodness or<br />

charity lest trouble overflow into the world. For every black wizard, there must be a white.<br />

For every spell of combat destruction, there must be healing. Know ye this ...if all who<br />

practice magic cast naught but healing or protective spells, dark, horrible forces would build<br />

up until chaos and ruin would burst forth and rain our doom down upon us. Thus may spells<br />

of healing be broken by harm, and the worst of spells be broken by charity. Knowing this,<br />

Loziard planned well his act of vengeance.<br />

To permanently rid himself of Einlea (short of killing her outright) he must devise a spell so<br />

cunning that no act of kindness would ever break it. He was pulling lice out of his long beard,<br />

late one evening, when he burst into laughter. He would make her into something<br />

...disgusting. "I will make her into a frog." he laughed, then frowned. No ... that had been<br />

done. People might expect it and go around, like mindless idiots, seeking frogs, hoping to<br />

earn a kings ransom. And then, a brilliant plan occurred to him. "I will make her into a bug,<br />

an insect, a WORM ..." He almost choked on his wine. "Oh. How perfect.. I will make her<br />

into something so truly loathsome that she will spend the rest of her little bug life in terror of<br />

being squashed by the first person who sees her." He squealed and his rings jangled and his<br />

fat jiggled and he snorted wine out his nose in laughter. "Oh, how absolutely delicious ..."<br />

315

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