Philippe of Morgarath

Chapter Three

He woke up with a massive headache. Looked around, a little insecure, and tried to remember the night before. He didn't get much further than the memory of wonderful, illegal, Moshnabeer. Though, in comparison, the wonderful flavour turned into a horrible aftertaste.

He lifted himself up, to look around him. He was in his room. Next to him, he saw a bottle that used to be filled with the warming alcohol.

Slowly, yet steadily, Philippe got up out of bed to splash some cold water in his face. Hoping to freshen up. He put on some clean clothes, and combed his hair with his fingers. Afterwards, he ran down the stairs hoping to find some ready breakfast in the kitchen.

He hadn't reached the ground floor yet, when he saw a man that he wished to speak to. 'Hey', he shouted towards him. 'Wait!'

The minstrel turned around and made a deep, mocking bow, towards the boy that ran towards him.

'Philippe of Morgarath', the minstrel said, with a wide smile on his face. 'How can I be of service?' His voice sounded cynical.

'I'd like to know where you heard that story from yesterday', Philippe said. Quickly the minstrel rose his hands for protection. 'No, no, do not worry, I won't say anything any more. I got the message loud and clear. I did not know the house of Morgarath hate stories of black magic so much.'

Philippe shook his head, one time, firmly. 'I wouldn't call it hate', he said. 'Fear, is a better word. It might have something to do with my mother's death, Nina Yaarth.'

The minstrel nodded. His face went from astonishment, to understanding. 'Oh, but of course. That's something I should have been able to guess. But I think the story I heard of her death, was that she was found in the house of-' Philippe stopped him by raising a hand.

'I do not need you to tell me any other stories than the stories I'd like to hear', he said, a bit angry that the minstrel had had the courage to mention that preposterous rumour of his mother's death.

Once again the minstrel kept his hands in front of himself, showing obedience.

'But still, you have not told me where you heard this song', Philippe continued. The minstrel now opened his arms and smiled. 'Everywhere', he screamed. 'The whole wide world. I have been to Nealèn, Borwalèn... even some islands here, in Morwerth, speak of dark magic.'

'Please, be a little more specific', Philippe said, curious. 'I do not travel, so I can not get my information so easily.'

The minstrel looked up and down the boy. 'You are looking for information... are you not?' he asked rhetorical. He rolled his eyes. 'I do not know if I have any more information, my lord. My arms... my legs. They are so tired … and your brother has f*******n me from staying here for the night.'

Philippe understood what the man was trying to say. 'If you give me the information I want, I will speak to my brother, and you can stay for the night.'

The minstrel smiled. 'Most information I get from small villages. Village parties... and pubs. Pubs, yes definitely pubs. Men with alcohol speak, like babies cry. It's their second nature. You can not stop them from speaking their truths. I would advice you to go to the Golden Sabre, my lord. Try your stories there.'

Philippe thanked the man, and his minds started wondering. Could he do it? Could he go find the Golden Sabre, to see if there were some more stories to bring his mind to rest? He started imagine travels, and spectacular adventure. He'd never been to a normal tavern before. He had asked his father if he could go, but every time his father had just laughed at his face, and not even given him the courtesy of a no.

When they were little boys, Christophe and Philippe had been kept on a short leash. Ever since his mother's passing, which happened right after Philippe was born, Malowen had become overprotective. He distrusted everyone that wasn't family.

Both Chris, and Philippe, knew that what their father wanted and expected of them, was not normal. They noticed the man had some characteristics that other men did not have, but they respected him more for it. He had great sense of just, and was therefore an amazing regent.

With the years passing, Malowen had let his sons move a bit more freely. He told them to protect their own furs, and Chris and Phil took massive advantage of the space they were given. They took women home, stayed away for night's at a time and kept tricking the staff of the castle. But eventually their phase became less, and lately they've stayed inside the walls of the castle more and more.

Philippe looked around, as he was roaming the halls of the castle. He knew every inch of the walls, and could even dream the touch of the velvet tapestries. The castle had been in the hands of the Morgarath family for generations. The Morgarath family had been proud, and protective. They celebrated with plenty of feasts, and because of that, most nobility in Morwerth knew Philippe by name and face.

They knew that Philippe had been trained to becoming general of his father's army. The regent army, which was huge, and disciplined. Philippe was famous for his skill in swordsmanship, but he had made plenty of hours training with it. During training there was no alcohol, no noble food, and sleeping was rare. The routine was heavy, but they worked wonderfully. Philippe loved his sword, and his position, as they had made him in to the muscled, and strong guy he is today.

But it was a lot of responsibilities. Especially now he was connected to Llona Kwarth. Philippe's biggest fear was that the people would become dependent on him. He did not want the wars to go down with his name on it. He didn't want men to die, fighting for him. He did not want to have the responsibility of their blood on his hands, if he'd make one single mistake.

But whenever he tried to talk to either his dad, or his brother about it, he always received the same answer: 'Since we had the throne, we haven't had a single war. What do you expect?' But it was not the expected, that scared Phil. It was the unexpected.

'Philippe', he heard a gentle women's voice. He looked up from his thoughts, and saw two girls. One of them was Malia Kwarth, the oldest of the Kwarth daughters. The second was his fiancée, Llona.

Philippe bowed to the both of them and smiled at them. 'Ladies, my pleasure.' Malia walked towards him with a steady pace, took his arm, and made her little sister do the same. The blonde girl listened submissively.

'We were wondering-', Malia said, obviously confident. Philippe already realised the we in this sentence was an I. '…If you could show us the castle.' Philippe nodded.

'Of course I can', he said right before he started walking at an easy pace for the two girls he had on his arms.

'Ladies', he said dramatically. 'I would like to show to you, the wonderful phenomenon, otherwise known as the hallway.' He lifted his chin towards the walls- considering his arms were full.

'It's magnificent', Malia said excitingly, obviously playing along with his joke. Philippe laughed.

'And', he continued. 'If that were already pleasing to the eye, you will be even more exciting when I tell you we have numerous of these hallways. More than you could ever wish for.'

Malia looked at him with acted surprise. 'Are you for real?' she said, while afterwards looking at her little sister. 'I can't even imagine, can you, Llona?'

Llona nodded, shyly. 'Yes Malia', the girl answered, while staring at the floor.

'Maybe lady Llona would like to see the flowergardens more', Philippe continued. He smiled at her, and he meant it. 'Not everyone likes these hallways, like I do. It's not that strange that you need more to be impressed.'

Llona slowly lifted her eyes, and she smiled when they crossed his. She nodded, and Philippe noticed something that could be seen as excitement, but it was vaguely.

'Well then', Philippe said. 'We have to...' He took a look around. 'Go left', he said while instantly taking the girls into a hall left. Both giggled as they followed his movements. They waltzed through a huge door, and entered the biggest of the castle's garden, otherwise known as the flowergarden.

'Can I ask your attention for a piece of pure, clean nature', Philippe said, right before the girls noticed the plants and the flowers. The sun shone, and Llona's beautiful blonde hair reflected the light. Her eyes became big, as she let go of Philippe's arm. She spread her arms and span three circles, before looking at Philippe with true excitement. 'It's wonderful', she smiled.

Llona ran towards the flowers, and started sniffing them.

'You have done your research', he heard Malia say, with a volume that only he could hear it.

'I have my sources', Philippe answered her bravely.

'Ah, there you are.' Everyone looked back, as Christophe walked into the garden. 'Food is to be served, if everyone would like to make their ways to the table?'