The Sorcerer and the Witch-King's Heir

Karina was having a day. It started with one of the novices having a spiritual crisis and a full melt-down in her office, that eventually turned out to be a case of very subtle bullying by one of the postulants, combined with said novice being the youngest of seven and having come to the order to escape exactly that kind of bullying from her older sisters at home, and was now feeling like she was destined to be lesser-than and picked on no matter where she went in the world. Karina was sympathetic, she really was, no one should be treated that way, no one should be made to feel that way, and she was committed to making the Order of St. Agnes a safe place for all women and girls, but there was so much else she had to get done that day and pushing her entire schedule back by two hours to provide spiritual counsel was both emotionally draining and a disruption to her extremely busy schedule. By the time she sent the girl back to her dorm, freed from any duties for the day to rest and reflect and, hopefully, reconnect with her vocation, she was late for her meeting with Sister Delphine, which then got pushed into nones, which meant having only twenty minutes for lunch, which meant going to her meeting with the merchant's guild still hungry and without any time to go over her notes. Fortunately, Delphine was brisk and to the point, going over supply orders, menu concerns, and the new duty roster with efficiency and a minimum of extraneous chatter. Delphine was created to manage an estate, but some deity had made a mistake and she was born to a prostitute in an alley. Karina was grateful to rectify the error and give the sister the vocation she clearly deserved. Despite arriving late, Delphine did not keep her over, wrapping up quickly just at the bells chimed for prayer and assuring the abbess that the rest would keep until the following week and if anything unexpected came up, she would let her known. Prayer was a blessed relief, but over too quickly, then down to the refectory for luncheon, bringing her notes with her for the Merchant Guild meeting and wondering, half-heartedly, if she could just skip it. She still had to meet with the postulant who had caused this morning's disruption, and she needed to speak to the sister in charge of the novices and she needed to-- Lunch, and her thoughts, were interrupted by the chiming of a bell. Not the abbey bells. Not any bell that she should be hearing at lunch on a perfectly normal day during a perfectly normal year were the city and country and seemingly the whole world was peaceful and prosperous. This bell had a deep, ominous tone. This bell hadn't been heard in twenty-five years. This bell was-- She looked around the room. The sisters were all bent over their plates, some murmuring in conversation, some focused on their meal. No one else had heard the bell. No one but her. Gathering her habit around her, papers and meetings and spiritual crisis forgotten, Sister Karina began to run. ** By the time she reached the council chambers, the parliament was already assembled. What surprised her, was to see the full druidic council had arrived as well. They loomed in their heavy white robes like a flock of ominous sheep. “Mother Karina,” said Daryl, coming forward to greet her, relief written all over her face. “Thank you so much for arriving so promptly.” “Did you hear it?” she asked, pulling back from his embrace. “Of course I came. Daryl, did you hear it?” He nodded, his voice grave. Not everyone who sat on parliament could hear the bells, but everyone who could hear the bells were members of parliament. Daryl was one of them. Karina was another. Corrin was the third. "What is it?" Karina demanded. "What could it possibly be? We're not under attack, not now, not after all these years..." "Mother abbess," said a new voice, Chancellor Evander. His voice was smooth and radiated clam authority. "I'm so glad you could make it. These are indeed troubling times." "Troubled indeed, Chancellor," Karina said, twisting her hands in the skirts of her habit. "Chancellor, why did the bell ring? Why did that bell ring?" The chancellor shook his head. Of course someone would have told him of the bell, but he couldn't hear it himself. "I don't know," he admitted. "That is, I believe, what we are all here to find out." "If I could have your attention please?" It was one of the druids, a wiry old woman who looked twice Karina's age, and she was pushing sixty. "Ladies and gentlemen, if you please?" The side conversations stopped and everyone turned to face the druids. They stood apart, grey robes on one side and white on the other, although they were, presumably, united in one cause. "I assume that you are all here because of the Great Bell," the druid woman continued. "My siblings and I have been investigating the matter and we believe there can be only one cause." She paused, on purpose Karina assumed, before taking a breath to continue. "The bell chimes only to warn us of danger, serious, magical danger. The bell must have sensed that our ancient foe has at last returned. One of the witch-kings has survived, and is even now among us, planning his assault." Chaos broke out on the parliament floor. "What do you mean?" Daryl cried, when a word could be got in edge-wise. "There can't be any survive Witch-kings. We killed them all! I mean, literally, killed them, here, on this floor." His face was ghostly pale and Karina saw what he saw, what Corrin saw, what half the druidic council undoubtably saw, that aftermath of that horrible, horrible last/first day. Last day of tyranny, first day of freedom. Last day of the witch-kings first day of, well, this. "Not the witch-kings," the druid said testily, "But indubitably a witch-king. An outcast perhaps, a distant cousin...an heir. They have existed outside of our sphere of awareness for all these years, but now they have returned to the city, and there can only be one reason for their doing so." There was a pause, while everyone tried to think of only one reason why the long-lost heir of the evil tyrannical monarchy might return to the city where their ancestors were slaughtered. There were just...so many to choose from. Revenge? Reclaiming their rightful place? Wreaking whole-scale murder on their rebellious subjects? The druid saw that the pondering was going on for too long and, in exasperation, she said, "They're here for the crown, of course." Oooooh, said the seven members of parliament, realizing. Of course the heir couldn't do anything without a proper coronation, and a coronation could only take place with the crown. The obsidian crown. The one that had been lost before the revolution and never found. "So some long-lost descendant of the witch-king is here," said Chancellor Evander, with forced cheerfulness. "But the crown is long gone, so he can't actually do any damage. False alarm! We can all go home!" That seemed a little prematurely optimistic to Karina, but she didn't say anything. She had her abbey to get back to, and it didn't seem like there was any immediate action to be taken, anyway. Then Adelaide Sharpe, head of the National Library, raised her hand. "Actually," she said timidly, "I think, that is, there's a very good chance that...well, just this morning, one of my librarians--" "Spit it out, woman," Evander said in exasperation. "And for the gods sakes, put your hand down. You're a member of parliament, not a schoolchild." Adelaide lowered her hand, squared her shoulders, took a deep breath and said: "We believe we have discovered the location of the crown."