Of my own hand I write this confession and I place my sigil in the wax at the bottom. Let all who read it see my guilt. I ride forth today to make right whom I have wronged. I ride forth to judgment. Twenty-one years have I reigned and I at last have an heir to succeed me.
In 4519 as the Elves reckon time, I rose to the throne of my fathers and was given the crown and sword which bound my fate to that of my kingdom. I received also my spouse that day, and was married before God and my subjects.
Fairest was Lydia, my queen, and ever did she her duty by me. Tirelessly she worked to produce an heir, but the curse of thin blood was upon me. After five years and five still-births, she could not deliver an heir that lived unto the second day. As my fathers before me, my seed was weak and would not take strong root within her.
Many battles fought I with the Stream of Anguish, sword of the Kings of Collonia from the dawn of time. Many foes I defeated and rivals aplenty. Men I slew and monsters, also -- even the hordes quailed at my hand. For I greatly wounded the King of the Pomarj, leaving him at the very gates of death. Nevertheless, for all my strength and achievements I could not produce an heir.
In 4524, I took sojourn from my battles. I had beat my enemy to a standstill, I bought their continued faith with the Goblinsilver and kept them beyond the West Mountains. So in peace, I was able to seek the Fairy of the North. After a year of searching I found her lair in a glade on the shores of the Lake of Mist. Ever cryptic was she, bidding that no child of mine would be born of love, but only betrayal.
Hearing her prophecy, I sought the wisdom of my learned men and magisters. All the wise warned me that I must stray from my pledge of troth to conceive. Yet, they warned me that to mix my blood with my rivals would only bring further dilution of my house. It would strengthen the claims of others while weakening my own because of the scandal it would cause.
In this predicament I sought the Duke of Havenar, husband to my sister, and a dabbler of black arts.
"Fear not," said he. "For I will aid you in secret. I will do this for the love I bear both you and all the people of Collonia."
Long have I trusted Havenar with my affairs as my fathers trusted his fathers house in ages past. So it did not seem strange to me when he bid that I meet a surrogate who would bear me an heir if I came swordless to a certain place on a midsummer moonless night. I know now that he was taken in madness born of loyalty and for that I bear no ill will. I believe his heart to be true and well-meaning, though his scheme was born in Hell. More blame I take to myself, for the doing of the deed.
Desperate was I do have an heir and the words of the Fairy of the North were still echoes in my ears. So I did as Havenar bid, and came swordless to the appointed place. Up to the last moment I thought I might turn from this act. Until there, in the moonless night I saw a woman lovely to behold with her head covered in a veil as though a bride, but as for other clothing, she had none. Her form was flawless and as though it were sculpted by the masters themselves. It caught my breath and held it.
So passion rose within me and I went unto her, but she hid among the trees and asked what I sought.
I told her I seek but an heir to succeed me.
Just one, asked she.
I agreed it was so.
Are you bereft of sword, she asked.
I agreed that I was. Save only the sword of my passion.
Disrobe said she, and come unto me.
And I did.
Swear, said she, with your hand upon my breast, that if I give unto you a male child, you shall leave all others to me, to raise as my own, whether they be males or females that follow.
Under my breath I cursed, but at the last agreed. For I knew that my seed was weak and my blood was thin and births of two and three are exceedingly rare.
So passion rose within us and I went unto her and mounted her and filled her with my seed until the coming of dawn. Whereupon she said that the act was complete and I must leave before the light of day.
When I was dismounted she said, "Return hither in nine months and collect what is yours."
So I made haste to my keep under cover of darkness and in shame, but for nine months I waited and could not bear the waiting. Neither could I go unto Lydia my wife, for my ears ever heard the hissing of snakes. But my wise men counseled that such was the weight of guilt upon my mind and to heed it not. As for Lydia, she grieved at the drought of my affections, but said naught, thinking herself to blame.
Finally, after nine months, I rose again on a moonless night to steal unto the glade. This time, I did not go swordless, for along the way I thought that I might take my own life because of the weight of shame. Though I wanted an heir, I was tempted moment by moment to fall headlong upon the Stream of Anguish, sword of my fathers and the Kings of Collonia from the dawn of time.
When at last, I came to the appointed place, I saw there the same beauty whom I had known and whom I had filled with my seed. And there crying, I heard the sound of many children, not two, nor three, but a half dozen suckling babes and each wrapped in a cloak and one in purple as a king.
"Here is your promised heir, if you still desire him," said she. Then shaking loose her hair from the veil and exposing her face, I heard the hissing of snakes and recognized at once the Queen of the Pomarj, the mate of my bitterest enemy. It was she whose very glance can turn to stone.
Betrayal, laughed she. Did not the witch fairy promise as much?
So eyes closed, I drew the Stream of Anguish from my scabbard and smote her upon the neck and killed her dead with the strength of one blow. Then in my anger I looked upon what my seed had wrought and saw that there were five hatchlings with hair budding as snakes and these I put also to the sword. But as for the sixth, he was a male, and hairless and I could not dispatch him. Rather I dropped the sword of the Kings of Collonia from my hand, and ran from that place in horror, leaving to weather and wild beasts what I could not accomplish.
When I came again unto my keep, Lydia, my faithful and beautiful bride was waiting. There I went unto her for comfort and for the drought I had previously offered her, she stood ready to receive me. There and then we conceived a son, my heir, who is more precious to me than my own life's blood.
When the morning had come, upon the bed of our passion I confessed my failure to her. I confessed to the murder of the Mistress of the Pomarj and to the slaying of the five hatchlings she bore me, but how I had spared the one and left him to die in the elements.
Then Lydia grew pale and smiled not again from that day forward. She was disconsolate and walked long walks alone upon the parapets of my keep. Her hands ever upon her belly. She would not take meals with me, nor be entertained by song, and she slept only fitfully for she swore she heard the sound of many snakes.
When her time was fully come, she gave birth with the best midwives attending and my heir was born. But Lydia was not comforted at the sight of him and called him the Son of her Betrayal. After she had nursed him and handed him to the ladies attending, she flew to the solace of her walks. That night she flung herself from the parapets and took her life. Many called it an accident of wet stone, but I know she grieved too much to live, just as I greive this very day.
I have seen now the passing of ten years without a wife in my arms or a smile upon my lips. My son is hale and Lydia bore him well into the world. Having done all I go now with a weight of shame I cannot bear. I go meet my enemy. For his horde has grown strong and he has sent me many signs of his desire to kill me and to sack Wanderhalt.
Long was he in wounds, but the blow I struck in him was not deep enough to kill. I know he has discovered the slaying of his mate and my responsibility for it. Each Mon upon the full moon a basket is found beneath my walls. In it is the head of a girl slain as his mate was -- struck through the neck with a single blow.
I fear for my son and for this Kingdom. Under a flag of truce I go to him. I shall offer my life and the Goblinsilver in perpetuity in atonement for my deeds.
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