SideQuest Adventures No.1(The Foreworld Saga) By Mark Teppo
PROLOGUE
King Richard’s return from the crusade should have been a glorious progression—he had, after all, managed to negotiate a peace with Saladin that allowed Christian access to Jerusalem—but the voyage home had been fraught with unpredictable weather. At sea, their boat had been driven off course, and when they had been forced to abandon the vessel, they had made landfall farther west than they had anticipated—in lands nominally controlled by the Holy Roman Emperor, a man who was aggrieved about Richard’s conduct in the Holy Land.
Richard had, in fact, a number of enemies in Christendom, which made an overland journey north from Italy fraught with danger.
They stumbled into Gorizia, thinking they were farther east than they were, and were nearly caught by Meinhard, the nephew of Conrad of Montferrat, king of Jerusalem. Conrad had been murdered in the Holy Land, and many believed Richard was the architect of the assassination. Meinhard, as did others in Christendom, wanted Richard to answer to this charge, and he would have captured Richard had it not been for the dogged loyalty of a handful of Shield-Brethren, men of the Ordo Militum Vindicis Intactae who had insisted on accompanying Richard back to England. Richard’s party escaped, and after several harried days of travel through the Alps, they reached Friesach, a town known for its silver mint. They were trying to outrun news of their presence in Christendom, hoping to remain anonymous, but the people of Friesach were too eager to be helpful, filled with a false sincerity that masked an underlying apprehension. Friesach was a trap, and Baldwin of Bethune, one of Richard’s remaining knights, volunteered to remain behind, pretending to be the king, while Richard—along with William de l’éstrang and the sole remaining Shield-Brethren—rode on toward Moravia.
But first they had to get across the Danube, the wide river that flowed past Vienna, the home of Leopold V, the duke of Austria.
There was a ferry east of the city that would take them across the river, and while William went to negotiate passage, Richard and the young Shield-Brethren knight found an inn in the village of Erdberg. Richard stumbled inside, leaving the knight to tend to their horses, and the king nearly wept with joy as the heat from the fire started to thaw the icy surface of his skin. The innkeeper brought him food and drink, and only after his belly was full and his clothes were starting to dry did Richard shake himself free of the cloying fever fog that had clouded his mind the last few days. I just have to get across the river, he thought.
Richard picked up his tankard and glanced around for the innkeeper, meaning to call for more ale. There was no sign of the man, and he realized that the few patrons in the inn were all trying very hard not to look at him. He knew he was not a pleasant sight: his plain robe and cloak were filthy, his beard and hair unkempt; he was both sweating and shivering. He knew he was taller than most men, but the weight of the fever on him made it easy to obscure his height. He had left the bulk of his money with Baldwin in Friesach, knowing that wealth only attracted attention. How could they possibly know who I am? he wondered.
As he set his tankard down on the table, he caught sight of the ring on his hand. He had tried to take it off several days ago, but his hands had been too stiff and swollen, and he hadn’t been able to get the band past his knuckle. It was not the ring of a poor merchant. It was the ring of a king.
The door of the inn banged open and men, wearing the livery of the duke of Austria, marched into the room.