Tower Castle, Cryptonia, Ground Plane
Year 547 of the Fourth Age
5th Moon, 8th Day
The first thing to enter Jasper’s head as he woke up was pain: a familiar pounding sensation in his skull he recognized from years of football. Head injuries were always a bitch, but this surpassed anything he had experienced before.
“Ugh, god,” he groaned, brows furrowing. He kept his eyes shut, knowing that as soon as he opened them, another wave of pain would wash over him. He lifted a hand to press against his forehead. It felt leaden, like someone had strapped weights to his arms. Assuming he was in an E.R., he called out. “Nurse? Nurse!”
“I am here, my Lord,” said a female voice, moving closer. There was an Irish lilt to her words. “What do you require? Wine? Numbweed?”
“What?” Jasper cracked his eyes open. Instead of the bright and pristine gurney he was expecting, he was laid up in a large bed covered with quilts and furs. The bed frame was made from stained wood, carved with twisting vines. The woman who had come running was wiping her hands on a cloth. She was garbed in a finely made green dress and cream-colored petticoat covered in a large apron, her hair held in place by a finely stitched headscarf. She had sharp green eyes that sparkled in the candlelight. They contrasted with her pristine skin, save for the freckles adorning her nose and cheeks.
The room was constructed from cut stone blocks. A wooden bookshelf stood against one wall, full of huge volumes. The carved stone fireplace crackled with a fire that had been recently fed, its flame burning the chill from the room. The massive door in the wall was ajar enough for Jasper to see it was at least three inches thick with wrought iron fittings.
“Ser?” The woman had a worried expression on her face. “Are you well enough to talk? Titus said you were wounded in the duel, and they brought you straight here.”
“Who’s Titus?” He blinked several times in confusion. “Here? Where are we?” Her brow crinkled slightly, and she looked concerned.
“Tower Castle, my Lord. Your castle.”
“Mine?” Jasper sat bolt upright and instantly regretted it. The left side of his head pounded like a drum. “Agh.” He steadied himself on the edge of the bed and realized after a moment he was naked. “Um. Where are my clothes?” The nurse blushed.
“I needed to be sure you were otherwise uninjured, Lord.”
“Whatever.” He shook his head slowly, pulling a quilt over himself. “Why do you keep calling me that? I’m hurt. You don’t need to role play. Is this the fair hospital?”
“Fair, my—um. Ser?” She tilted her head. “The fair is not here this time of year, and what is a hospital?”
“What the hell is going on?” He growled, standing unsteadily. She stepped forward to help but backed away, turning red as a beet when he moved towards the window, wrapping the quilt around his waist. It dragged behind him on the stone floor. “Hoooly…”
When Jasper pushed the wooden window shutter, it creaked open, much like his jaw when it dropped as he took in the scene before him. He was in at least the fourth or fifth story of a tower, overlooking a castle. Beyond that were shallow hills and a forest. A river wound through the trees. He turned around and locked eyes with the nurse.
“I need a drink.” She nodded.
“I can get anything, Lord. Water? Wine?”
“How about bourbon?” She gave him an odd look.
“S-ser?”
“Beer?”
“We have ale, Lord, will that serve?” She looked worried, almost like she was concerned he had lost his mind. Jasper sighed heavily and nodded.
“Yes, that will do fine.” She gave a little curtsy and began to leave. “Wait, what is your name, miss?” She hesitated, blushing again.
“My name is Fernilla, Lord. But my friends call me ‘Fern’.” He smiled wearily and nodded.
“Thank you, Fern.”
“I will return presently, Lord.” She curtsied again and left, pulling the heavy door closed. He leaned against the wall beside the window, looking outside again.
“Unless I’m more concussed than I thought,” he said, “I have a feeling we’re not in Florida anymore.”
- ??
Fern hurried down the steps to the small storeroom halfway down the turret. Inside, the steward and aide to the Lord of Tower Castle, Calian Wist, paced impatiently back and forth. He appeared human, but on closer inspection, his ears and nose were pointed, and his skin was unnaturally pale. His blue-eyed gaze was sharp as diamonds and seemed to pierce through to the soul of any caught by it. Vampires were a rarity in this part of the world, but not entirely unheard of. His dark eyes twinkled intelligently under his black hair. He looked up as Fern entered and advanced on the physician.
“What news?” His voice was cultured where her accented tones were more relaxed.
“He is awake, Calian, though I worry about his mind,” Fern frowned. His arched brow rose even higher.
“Explain.”
“He does not know where he is—understandably,” Fern said with a shrug. “He used many words I do not understand; something called a ‘bourbon’? I do not know. He did not seem to remember Titus, poor Adel, or the duel outside the gates.”
“Oh, hang it all!” Calian growled. He threw up his hands in frustration and stomped around. “At last we are freed of the bastard Lerontis, and his replacement is a simpleton?!” Fern waved her hands at him, trying to stem the steward’s irritation.
“Quiet down!” She whispered fervently. “He is likely just confused. We have been through this before, Calian.”
“Finding a new Lord is hard enough, Fern, you and I know this well, we have been through so many,” Calian hissed. “But to finally get one we judge worth a damn, and the boy barely survives the test?”
“That has also happened before,” Fern sighed. “And Lord Kaden served well for quite some time after his recovery. We cannot stand here arguing; I must return with something for him to eat. The poor man has been asleep for almost two days.”
“And he is not as sturdy as you or I,” Calian snorted. “I will join you shortly, to appraise him of our situation.”
“Very well.” Fern picked up a tray with bread and butter, a pitcher of ale and an empty mug, and one apple to round it off before stepping back to the door. “Temper your frustration. He is still young. And human.”
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“Yes, yes, go on,” Calian waved her away, and she departed.
Fern considered what she had seen of the new young Lord. He had acted nobly enough, according to Titus. His sword skill was passable at least, to have handled Lerontis so quickly, even with the previous Lord being drunk. It was rare for such a transition of Lordship to occur, though there was precedent, and it was common to search other Planes for a replacement or successor. She reached the bedroom door and knocked tentatively.
- ??
“Come in,” said Jasper, rubbing his temples tiredly. He had found some trousers lying on a chair pulled out from a nearby table.
“Ale, some toast, and an apple, Lord,” said Fern. She ducked her head in lieu of a curtsy before moving over to set the tray down.
“Thank you, Fern,” he smiled. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out earlier.” She shook her head and a few strands of her beautiful ginger hair broke loose from her bandana.
“Not at all, Lord Jasper.” She replied. He squinted in slight confusion.
“How do you know my name? And uh, can you explain what the hell is going on here?” She chuckled and covered her mouth with one delicate hand.
“Yes, I can, to an extent. You defeated the former Lord Lerontis in a duel. By the laws of this Land, you are now master of Tower Castle, the Greenwood, and its surrounding villages. As to how we know your name, Lord, there was a small picture of you in your satchel with your name beside it.” She held up his driver’s license. He waited a good three heartbeats.
“Come again?”
“I believe I may be needed at this juncture,” said a British-sounding voice from the doorway. A very pale man entered and gave a slightly over-embellished bow. He was dressed in a dark gray suit with tails that hung to mid-thigh. Beneath the outerwear was a fitted vest containing several pockets and a ruffled cravat at his throat. Shining silver buttons fastened both vest and jacket, with swirling patterns of silver thread adorning his cuffs and the freshly-starched thin lapels. The suit fit him much more smartly than any Jasper had ever seen. His face was handsome, despite the pallor. His midlength black hair was swept back in a perfectly combed ‘do. He looked very pleasant, in command, and supremely confident. “Lord Jasper, I am Calian Wist, your Steward and Master of Purse.”
“Uh-huh.” Jasper stared at him blankly for a moment. “Calian, I believe I am either more severely injured than I thought, or there is a lot more going on here.”
“I am afraid it may be a bit of both, despite Mistress Fernilla’s healing efforts. She mended the crack to your skull, but from what she has told me, it may take you a few more days to fully recover.”
“My skull?” He gawked. “My skull was fractured?”
“It was not as bad as that,” said Fern, shooting Calian a reproachful glare. “You were badly stunned, but little else. I suspect it is due more to the shock of the situation than anything.” She moved closer to inspect the cloths wrapped around his head. “The swelling has gone down, and you are not bleeding anymore, but I would recommend as little stressful activity as possible for a while. Even with my magic, your body needs time.”
“I’m sorry, ‘magic’?” Jasper stared. “Actual magic. Like, fireballs and mind control and stuff?”
“Well, no.” She said thoughtfully. “I am no great wizard, Lord. I am a simple healer and have some latent mage-talent on my mother’s side.” He narrowed his eyes.
“You’re pulling my leg.”
Fern’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I am most certainly not.”
“I’m sorry, this is just a lot for me to handle.” He stood and paced around the room, waving his arms in exasperation. “Right! So, I am in another world then. Or I’m in a lunatic asylum somewhere, because I think that I’m in another world with magic and castles and—”
Calian burst into a shadow with a sound like muffled cloth being torn. His entire form was composed of shifting smoke and shards of darkness. His demonic face grinned at Jasper, his gleaming blue eyes and forked tongue contrasting with the white points of his fangs. Jasper stumbled backwards, knocking over his chair.
“Whoa!” Calian’s smoky body coalesced again, and the butler reappeared as if nothing had happened. He smirked. Fern rolled her eyes at him and reached up to uncover her ears, which were gracefully pointed at the tips. Jasper could just make out more of the red hair under her head covering before she hid her ears once again. She then held up her hands, as if gripping a basketball in front of her. A soft white light bloomed into existence between them. It unfolded like a flower, gold and green petals opening to reveal a beautiful white bud in the center. The edges looked sharp as razor blades.
“I believe you are at least convinced we are not liars, Lord Jasper?” She smiled gently, and he tried to collect his jaw from the floor.
“I need a minute.” Jasper walked over to the window again, bracing his hands on both sides of the sill and leaning heavily against it, trying to slow down his heart rate. “Ohhhhh-kay,” he muttered to himself. “Magic is real, and I’m in another world. Jeez…” He blew out a long sigh before turning finally to face the other two. “Can either of you please explain why I am here?”
“Gladly, Lord Jasper,” nodded Calian. “This land is special, to say the least. It has been governed by many through the ages, the last being the man you defeated some days previously.”
“Leroy?” He sputtered in disbelief—it seemed ridiculous that Leroy could be a Lord of anything.
“I am afraid so, ser.”
“Damn.” He did not know what else to say.
“Precisely,” Calian nodded again. “We were damned for some time. The position seemed to go straight to his Lordship’s head, and he largely spent his time emptying the cellars and frequenting the more promiscuous quarters of The Vill.”
“Huh. Now why does that not surprise me?” Jasper snorted. Calian seemed to be waiting for him to continue, so he waved him on.
“His position—now yours—was to tend the castle and the Greenwood.” He pointed out the large window to the forest and river. “And to protect the surrounding lands.” Jasper could see small settlements established on the banks of the winding river. Fishermen checked their nets, repaired boats, and went about similar water work.
“Lord Lerontis was failing in this task,” Fern said plainly. “And so you were chosen to take his place.”
“Chosen?” He turned to face them again. “Chosen by whom?”
“That is a bit more complicated,” said Calian tentatively.
“Care to expound on that?” Jasper asked, nursing his head and raising an eyebrow. Calian looked to Fern for support, and she nodded.
“The Land chooses, Lord Jasper. We are merely the caretakers.”
“I see.” Jasper nodded. Not that he understood at all, but clearly something very powerful had dropped him here, and it meant he was going to be Lord of the castle and rule the place. He felt as if the reality of that revelation still had not caught up with him.
‘Hopefully I’ll have some sort of handle on it when it does. And anyway, who am I to argue with the big magical Land or the demon butler standing in front of me?’
“So, um. How exactly does this work? Are you guys here to make sure I don’t cross the line like Leroy—uh, Lerontis did?” Calian chuckled coldly, and it sent a chill up Jasper’s spine.
“Partly, but we are primarily your aides and guides where we are able.”
“Do you mind me asking exactly what you are?” Jasper asked. Fern blushed at his question but Calian just smiled. Jasper could have sworn his mouth stretched a bit too wide for his face.
“I am a vampire,” Calian said plainly. “My abilities are varied, but my knowledge of the world and my social prowess have proven invaluable to safeguarding the Tower.”
“What exactly do you mean by ‘social prowess?’” Jasper’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Most mortals are very susceptible to glamour,” Calian smiled, and his face shifted, becoming a much older, more stately man’s features. Again, it shimmered, and he was a young man with dark skin before finally returning to his true face. “It is just a disguise. Manipulation is an indispensable tool to an individual such as myself.”
“That is terrifying,” Jasper said flatly. “You could look like anyone?”
“Anyone within reason. My skill is not true transformation like some, but influence over a person’s mind. If I attempted such a feat on a large group or on several powerful individuals, I would likely fail.”
“You overwhelm him, Calian,” Fern chided, waving him aside. “I am a mountain elf and the castle physician. I am also the keeper of the inner and outer grounds. I manage the court gardens for their herbs and spices.” Jasper’s brow furrowed.
“And how long have you both been here?”
“I have been in service to this castle since long before most of the others here,” Calian said. “Fern has also resided here for some time, though not so long as others such as myself.”
“Others? There are more elves and vampires?”
“No, not my kind,” Calian chuckled. “I am the only true immortal in Tower Castle. There are elves though. There are many races here.” Jasper blew out a long sigh and righted the chair he had knocked over before sitting in it.
“Wow.”
“‘Wow’, Lord?” Fern looked confused.
“Uh, it means ‘oh my,’ ‘goodness gracious,’ ‘good heavens,’ that kind of thing.” He ran a hand through his hair and winced. “Something tells me I’m going to need to abandon a lot of phrases from my world.”
“We shall do our best to adjust as well,” said Calian.
“I think that will have to go for both of us.” Jasper gazed out the window thoughtfully. “I don’t imagine that I’ll be going back?”
“No one ever has,” said Fern. “Except for a trial, like the one Lord Lerontis faced against you.”
“So going back at this point would probably not be a good plan. Got it.” Jasper dropped his head in his palms and groaned in frustration. On the one hand, the “real” world was long gone, and he did not have to deal with any of that mess again. Yes, his family was there, but after what had happened at the hospital…No. He had no desire to go back any time soon. And, he was now the owner of a big magic castle, and he had god only knew how many terrifying new roommates. ‘Escapism just became reality,’ Jasper thought. ‘Well, I can get behind that.’ He glanced out the corner of his eye at Calian, who stood ramrod-straight, waiting. Jasper took a deep breath before looking up. “So, what’s first?”