The Fate of Valeane

     “Lazlo,” she greeted him. “You have heard of the King’s outburst?”

     Lazlo gave her a polite but embarrassed smile that confirmed he had.

     “Do you know who this Princess Brigid is, and why the King does not like her to be mentioned?” Isobel asked.

     “I… I do,” Lazlo said nervously. “The King has forbidden all mention of her name. I am sorry, Lady Falmouth, but the King’s will is absolute. I would never go against him. Even if the situation is as desperate as you claim.”

     Isobel thanked him all the same, even if he was stonewalling her. She knew that finding this Brigid was her only hope of finding the dimensional rift in time to help Valeane, so leaving Meridell was not an option. Instead, she sought out her next point of contact besides Lazlo.

     Sir Marcel was the knight in charge of intelligence in the Meridell army, and technically Lady Isobel’s opposite number. His office was in the bowels of the castle, not far from the dungeons for easy access to interrogations. The shadow Draik was a mask of a man. Even Isobel, skilled as she was, often struggled to read his intentions. She was often thankful that Meridell had always been such a staunch ally of Faerieland, she did not envy the idea of having to work against him.

     Marcel was hard at work at his desk when Isobel knocked. She knew he was rarely actually doing work there, preferring to be skulking about in the dark shadows of Meridell town for information. That she found him there only served to confirm that he knew she was in town and would need to see him. That he knew that much meant he likely already knew of Skarl’s proclamation and her reason for being in Meridell in the first place.

     And the fact that he was there despite knowing all that meant that he had information for her and was willing to provide it somehow.

     “It is Valeane we are searching for,” Isobel said without bothering with the implied greetings and formalities. “Queen Fyora believes if we do not find her quickly, the fate of Neopia may hang in the balance. Whatever this Brigid did, I care not. King Skarl may keep his grudges for all eternity. But I must find out what she did on an island near Tyrannia.”

     “We are forbidden from speaking about her, and have been for many years,” Marcel replied, not looking up from his paperwork. “If it is answers you seek as to why, King Hagan of Brightvale will likely be able to furnish you with the details. Though you are correct, if she recorded what she did on the island, the writings will be here in the castle.”

     Isobel followed the carefully worded subtext.

     “Only records remain,” she said. “Then I take it this Brigid is dead. And has been for some time. And if Hagan knows, it must be a matter from their youth. A family matter?”

     She searched her memory, before a thought hit her that made her gasp. She caught the brief smile of satisfaction from Marcel.

     “Princess Roberta,” she said. “Saviour of Altador. King Hagan’s niece. King Skarl’s niece. Then at some point there must have been a third sibling in the royal family. This Princess Brigid? That would explain why she was so skilled in the magical arts as to move the rift. Roberta is a similarly gifted mage. Her writings remain in the castle? But sealed, I should imagine?”

     “Only the King would have the authority to unseal her chambers,” Marcel observed absently.

     “Who will not see me,” Isobel said.

     She knew Marcel would be unable to intervene on her behalf. If he could, the offer would have been the first thing on his lips when she opened the door.

     Still, it gave her a destination. The secrets Isobel sought would be in the royal apartments behind a door likely sealed both physically and magically. And Isobel could, in all likelihood, deal with that.

     “Well, thank you for seeing me even if you could provide no assistance,” Isobel said, making it clear she had understood Marcel’s directions.

     “I am sorry Meridell can offer no assistance,” Marcel replied, standing abruptly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to perform an inspection of the guards on duty. There have been worrying reports of contraband within the castle walls.”

     Isobel nodded with wordless thanks. He was going to make sure there was no one on patrol in the royal apartments. He was clearing the way for her.

     Her pink armour was conspicuous, but she had means of avoiding attention. There was a simple spell she learned from a dark faerie that allowed her to slip in and out of places without being noticed. It didn’t so much as shroud the user in darkness as make people’s eyes simply gloss over them. Hiding in plain sight.

     She slipped past the maids and courtiers on the upper floors without any issue, and found her way to the landing of the royal apartments. Skarl’s chambers with his gilded door were obvious, but there were other rooms set aside up there. There were the rarely used rooms of King Hagan for the few times he visited Meridell. A room for Princess Roberta whenever she visited. Others for the more distant relatives of the royal family, too. Isobel reached out with her trained senses for the signs of magic, and sure enough, she could feel that one otherwise nondescript door had a magical enchantment on it. A hefty lock also secured the door.

     The lock would be trivial, of course. Isobel was a spy, at the end of the day, and only a trained thief could pick a lock quicker. The magical ward was more complex, but Isobel possessed a certain set of skills. She placed her hand on the door and allowed the magic of the ward to resonate with her so she could get a better sense of it. She could tell at once that it was placed by a skilled wizard and wouldn’t be buckled by sheer force of will. It was a lock and would only respond to a magical key. But like a lock, it could be picked.

     It was much the same process. She tried to form the basics of several common spells, testing them slightly against the ward and feeling for any sign of success. When she felt a little give, she carried on with the spell, and then tried another until she felt it give again. When the ward finally shattered, it had taken five spells. After that, Isobel bent down and set to work with her lockpick. That took substantially less work. She heard the satisfying click of the lock and stood up, only to realise she was no longer alone in the corridor.

     King Skarl was stood there, silently fuming.

     “Who let you up here?” he demanded. “Lazlo? Marcel?”

     Isobel straightened up.

     “They resolutely refused to help,” she said. “They are loyal to their King, as I my Queen. Fyora needs what is in this room, Your Majesty. The fate of Neopia rests on it.”

     “Enough to defy me?” Skarl asked. “To risk war with Meridell.”

     “If needs be,” Isobel said. “But I do not believe it needs to come to that, Your Majesty. Meridell has always been a firm friend to Faerieland. You have always done the right thing, even when it has not been easy. Your brother has done much the same in Brightvale. I know whose room this is. Your sister, Brigid. Part of this same family. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that she must have had a good heart. She wouldn’t want this.”

     “She was the best of us,” Skarl said, his voice softening. “I was raised for the throne from birth. Hagan, too, in case the worse befell me. There were always expectations for us. But Brigid… there were no such plans for her. In a world where she could choose to be anything, she chose to be kind. And she was good at it, Lady Isobel. She travelled the world righting wrongs with her magic. She extended Meridell’s reputation well beyond her borders. And, then…”

     “How did she die?” Isobel asked, sensing an opportunity.

     “It wasn’t anything remarkable,” Skarl said sadly. “Not that it would have made it any better. It was a variant of the Squamata Plague, it took both her and her wife, leaving poor Roberta an orphan while still a babe in arms. Hagan, he wanted to celebrate her life, but I… the grief was just too raw. So he left to Brightvale and I… Hid.”

     “If she could help, even beyond death, surely that would be a good thing?” Isobel asked. “Surely that would honour her memory more than anything? All I need is her diary, Your Majesty. I won’t disturb anything, I promise you that.”

     Slowly, Skarl nodded his agreement, and Isobel opened the door.

     The room was thick with dust. It had clearly not been touched in decades. The furnishings were modest for a member of the royal house, but it was made up for by a sizable apothecary cabinet and workbench for potion-making. Both were still fully stocked, though the ingredients themselves had long since mouldered beyond any practicable use.

     Isobel located the diary she was looking for on the nightstand, and checking with Skarl, began to flick through the tome to try and find the relevant entry. The skill needed to move the breach suggested to Isobel that it would be fairly late in her career, but given she was still travelling Neopia it would likely have been before Princess Roberta was born.

     It took only a few minutes of skim reading to find the appropriate entry. It was quickly written, probably on the journey back from the island.

     ’Discovered a strange portal on an island off the coast of where the locals claim Tyrannia once stood. It appeared to be a tear to some other world, but there was a presence in the breach that seemed to block the way. I got the distinct feeling that whatever lurked beyond had some ill intent, but closing the portal proved entirely beyond my abilities. Kirsten says I might have succeeded if I had stayed longer but I know my limits. Instead, I have moved the portal. There was something about the island that resonated with it and moving it might hopefully cause the breach to close itself in time. I shall check back on it in a few years to confirm as much.

     For reference, I selected an uninhabited island off the shipping routes out of Mystery Island. Longitude and latitude below.’

     “Do you have what you need?” Skarl asked.

     “Yes,” Isobel replied, closing the book and making a note of the coordinates.

     She thought back to the maps in her Faerieland office. That island may have been deserted back when Brigid moved the portal there, but it wasn’t now. A town had grown up around it. A strange fishing port that the Mystery Island sailors avoided due to disturbing rumours about the locals.

     The portal was in a place called Illmoor.

     To be continued…