Mad King Ulrichs Day

©

2025 Duleigh Lawrence-Townshend. All rights reserved. The author asserts the right to be identified as the author of this story for all portions. All characters are original. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. This story or any part thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review or commentary.

This story was written in a genre that I absolutely love: Romantasy. I'll be writing more in this genre and I hope you enjoy this offering. It was written for the 2025 Nude Day Contest and it's my first ever entry in that contest.

Mad King Ulrich's Day

The royal convoy was less than a day out from their goal, the mountain chateau of Termagant's Bane, the capitol of the mountainous country of Teurnia. The convoy had been traveling hard for over a week from the elf ruled seaside kingdom of Edhellond, and the team was getting weary. The convoy was composed of four caravans and four cargo wagons. Ten mules were dedicated to pull the cargo wagons and ten horses to pull the caravans. Twelve additional horses carried the mounted guards. There were sixteen guards in all, twelve were human mounted guards in shining bronze armor and four elven guards in their shining chrome steel armor. They were mounted on the royal caravan, stationed on the forward and rear patios. To drive the convoy, there were four coachmen to drive the caravans, four teamsters to drive the cargo wagons, and two wranglers to see to the needs of the mules and horses. Their cargo was several crates of wedding gifts for the royal wedding, three elven ladies-in-waiting, and one elf princess, Rania Haldir, of clan Neithaor. The convoy's purpose was to carry Princess Rania to her fiancé, Prince Lars Ranzau, the future king of Teurnia.

The convoy plodded on through a narrow portion of the Arn River Valley. Unbeknownst to the royal party, far above in the rocks, Teurnian sharp shooters sat poised on the cliff tops above, keeping an eye out for bandits or anyone else that could endanger the royal wedding. Occasionally overhead, a massive golden dragon circled. He, too, was protecting the route of the convoy that was carrying the future queen. When the convoy stopped for the night, a monstrous black dragon circled, looking for bandits and other dangers.

Far below in the convoy, travel was slow because the road was rocky and the bouncing and jostling of the royal caravan displeased Princess Rania. Even though they were slowed to a slow walk, they were well ahead of schedule. They had planned to enter the city on Jeol fifth, but the princess wanted the journey over, so she ordered them to enter the city no later than noon on Jeol second. "The second of Jeol is a holy day in Termagant's Bane, people come from throughout the kingdom of Teurnia to participate. We should refrain from entering Termagant's Bane," said the convoy master.

"Come now," came the soothing voice of the princess from her shadowy corner. "What harm could come to us if we enter the city in the middle of a barbarian festival? We might get a decent meal finally." She said that loud enough for Ulysse, her personal chef, to hear. Lana, Nora, and Olah, the princesses' handmaidens, could almost taste the tang of revulsion that Rania had for this upcoming wedding. The youngest of seven daughters, Rania of clan Neithaor, had become a political pawn and was going to be married to Prince Lars Ranzau, son of King Eric Ranzau, to cement a bond between her homeland of Edhellond (Elf Harbor) and the mountain kingdom of Teurnia.

She was being sold off like cattle, and her anger at the situation was poisoning the air in the royal caravan. It wasn't the fact that she was being married off to a political ally; she knew from childhood that it would be her fate to marry a foreign prince. It wasn't the fact that she was marrying someone she had never met. That's life in the royal courts. She should be happy she's marrying the crown prince because in a few years she will be queen. She should be happy that her future husband was close to her age and not some doddering, moldering, animated corpse waiting for his young, lithe bride. What she's angry with is that she has been ordered by her father to marry the future king of a primarily human kingdom.

She stomped off before her father or anyone could explain the situation. The thought sickened her. To marry a human! Or in the ancient elven tongue, g

ilthoniel

, which literally means animal. Her father, the elven king Arantar Haldir, clearly sold her to these humans to insure the flow of telepta from the mountain mines of Teurnia to the foundries of Edhellond.

Telepta! That mesmerizing magical silver that elves are so in love with, far more beautiful than mithril. It's lighter, stronger, more lustrous than mithril as well. Elves value telepta far beyond the forbidden forests of sentient trees in the far Moonstoke Mountains, or the night-cats that dwell in magical places and speak in poetry.

Rania stewed in her dark corner of the rocking caravan. She was sold for mere metal to a bunch of barbaric apes that had no magic at all. Rania was seething, radiating her hatred of everything human and her disgust with the species spilled over and inundated her handmaidens. Lana, Nora, and Olah were all desperately trying to calm her down, but nothing they tried worked. "I want to bind you to my last request," said Rania. "The moment my marriage to this animal has been completed, kill me."

"

Ai ú-vanimë, ar-hime

? (why dear princess?)" asked Lana, her senior handmaiden.

"

Ná síla lúmenn' mentally, nísilya síla lúmenn' ohtar Edhellond i ambar-háre.

" (My father's wish has been fulfilled, I will have fulfilled my duty to Edhellond by marrying the beast) said Rania in high elvish.

"Some tea mistress, I made us some tea," said Nora and she held the cup to the dark corner that her mistress has hidden herself for the entire journey. A slender hand covered by an elbow length pink silk glove reached out from the shadow to take the tea and then retracted back into the depths of the small corner. The elbow-length gloves were to prevent the princess from touching something beneath her station, something human. Motion in the darkness showed that Rania was sipping the hot tea. Hopefully, the herbs in the tea would calm her down.

Lana, Nora, and Olah were a rarity in Elvendom, they were triplets. In a society that rarely, if ever, has over two children in non-royal families, Lana, Nora, and Olah were a miracle. They were born to Mistress Aoife, the head of the royal household. The darling triplets were seen as a sign from heaven, a blessing on the Haldir dynasty. They were sweet and well-mannered and as they grew, they became young Princess Rania's playmates. The four little elflings were often seen dashing through the glades and dells of Edhellond, often naked because they were at home in the ponds and pools of the wooded kingdom as much as they were on land or in the trees.

Like most female elves, Lana, Nora, and Olah had straight golden hair, which they wore down past their shoulder blades. Their ears were pointed and only slightly pronounced, and like most elves, they were tall and slim, with trim figures. However, being a princess, Rania's figure is distinct. But she remained tucked in her dark corner so Olah couldn't make fun of their royal sister's figure.

As it grew dark, the convoy stopped for the night and the triplets set about preparing the royal caravan for the night. They began with emptying the chamber pots (the Princess will not be seen squatting by the side of the road!) and airing out linen. The guards were posted and the wranglers and coachmen set camp. Wood was gathered, fires built, and the cooks began to cook their last evening meal of the journey.

"Come out to the fire mistress, it's our last night and the weather is beautiful," called Nora from the front doorway of the caravan.

"I shall see beauty no more," groaned Rania. "Go, celebrate with your friends."

They have been following the River Arn, the gentle waterway that connects the seaside elf kingdom of Edhellond with the human infested mountain kingdom of Teurnia. Their convoy followed the ages old tow path for the mule powered barges up and down river and often the convoy had to pull to the side to let the mules and towrope of a down river bound barge past. Historically, bandits hid in the hills until the current king, his Majesty Eric Ranzau, hid armed guards on random barges heading both upriver and down river, and patrolled the river valley with dragons. King Eric cleaned the Arn river valley of dangerous thieves and bandits and now political emissaries and royalty were able to travel between the kingdoms in safety.

The convoy stopped at a wide park where barges tied up for the night and set up camp. The caravans were arranged in a circle. Each caravan looked like it may house gypsies, externally nothing stood out to proclaim royalty. Large spoked wooden wheels, wooden sided, shingled like a residential building, windows, and shutters that close over the windows, the windows even had curtains inside. From the curved roofs of the wagons extended a stovepipe exhaust from the potbelly stove inside, and at each end was a household door. The princess's caravan is a traveling lady's boudoir, while the other caravans were dormitory coaches with bunks stacked four levels deep.

The evening dinner was a chance to get out and enjoy the early summer air, along with your fellow traveler. Even though the triplets stay inside the caravan with Rania and only come out for dinner, Nora had caught the eye of an elf guard and she couldn't wait until dark when the musicians start to play and the casks of ale are tapped. She had discovered that he knew all the latest human dances.

While Lana stayed in the cabin with a morose Rania, Olah and Nora went outside to where the guards, coachmen, and wranglers set up a cheery fire. A recently shot stag, skinned and gutted, roasted on a spit over the fire. The guards laughed as they drank ale and teased the younger guards, who were still learning the ways of men under arms. A flute and a mandolin soon played a merry tune from the seaside of Edhellond, and Olah and Nora were soon dancing with two young guards by the light of the fire.

As dusk settled and the party was preparing to eat, everything went silent. An enormous shadow flew silently overhead, blotting out the darkening sky. "Magic," gasped Rania from her dark corner. "I taste magic." She couldn't mistake that sweet yet metallic twang on her tongue that accompanied any magic being used nearby. Outside, the guards leapt to duty and circled the parked convoy as the dark shadow passed over again, but this time it was lower, and in the twilight's gloom, they could see what it was. The firelight reflected off of hundreds of glossy golden scales as the shadow passed overhead. Dragon!

It passed over the camp silently, then lowered a wingtip and made a sharp 180-degree turn, then brought its chest up, almost standing on its tail before settling down on its four feet. The assembled men, elves, and two elfin handmaidens gasped as the enormous golden beast settled gently to the ground, its golden scales glittering in the firelight. It carefully folded its enormous wings and relaxed and lay down as if to sleep.

The dragon rider, the dracestrian, slid off the resting beast's back and walked up to the dragon's head and patted it like it was an obedient puppy. The dragon snorted contentedly and closed its dinner plate sized eyes and appeared to be slumbering. Happy that his mount was resting, the dracestrian walked up to the line of nervous soldiers and stopped. He was as tall as an elf, but he was clearly human, his skin tanned, his hair black, his ears rounded, and his eyes... not only were they round like a human, but they were also black as coal and not blue or green like most humans in the Mons Sunnah mountains.

The man gestured to the snoozing dragon behind him and said, "Lynne and I come in peace. We carry a message for your mistress from King Eric Ranzau of Teurnia."

A tall, beautiful woman stepped toward the dracestrian. She was lissome and panting from the dances the dragon rider interrupted. Her golden hair was disheveled, and her nipples were erect from an attraction that he interfered with. Her gold almond-shaped eyes and pointed ears gave away her elf ancestry. "You may give me your message. I am Princess Rania's handmaiden, I will pass on the message."

The dragon rider studied the haughty elf and smiled. "Nay, dear Olah, the message I carry is for Princess Rania, I do not have permission to hand it to go-betweens no matter how trustworthy."

"How do you know my name?" gasped Olah.

"Your sister Nora has yet to develop the courage to speak to someone unknown, and your sister Lana will not leave her mistresses side. That leaves you, Olah the strong, to confront an unknown dragon rider."

"And what if I say no?"

The dragon rider smiled, and his smile caused something deep inside Olah to tingle. "Then I will say 'please.'"

"And if I say no again?"

"Then I will say 'pretty please.'"

"Do you toy with me?" demanded Olah.

"No, not at all. You asked me what I would do, and I answered you," said the dragon rider.

"And what if I say no a third time?" snapped Olah.

"Then I leave, and I hope we part cordially. But then, you will be the one that must tell your mistress that you turned away the emissary of her father-in-law."

There was something about the way he said those words that made Olah realize this wasn't some paid messenger, and it shook her to her core. "How do I know you are that whom you say you are?" she asked softly.

"Now that is the question you should ask," he said with a smile. He opened his leather blouson and withdrew a document that was folded neatly and sealed in wax with the royal signet. "If you will present this to your mistress, dear Olah. I will wait here with the guards."

The guards comprised not only human guards but also elves for close physical security of the four female elves. "With me!" Olah snapped to an elf guard who followed her back to the royal caravan. In the dark caravan, she heard Rania moving in her corner. "My lady, a messenger arrived with a message for you and he will give it to naught but you."

"Who is he?" said Rania nervously.

"He gave me this," said Olah, and she handed Rania the sealed parchment.

Rania tried to pry the wax seal off the document, but it wouldn't come off. "Very good, these humans are learning magic," said Rania. A simple spell was put on the seal. It couldn't be removed, only broken, and if broken by someone other than the intended reader, the unintended reader would only see a blank page. She snapped the seal in half and unfolded the page and saw that the document wasn't written in the polished, perfect hand of the royal scribe, or the normally jittery hand of the king himself, but the round flowing hand of... the queen?

My Dearest Rania

I am so anxious to see my new daughter again. I met you on the day of your birth when I was a guest in Edhellond. I was there when you were blessed by the high cleric and I celebrated with your mother, Faelwyn, and your father, Arantar. He told me the child I was carrying would be your husband at the proper time.

Your dear father sent me the message that Lana, Nora, and Olah are coming with you. How wonderful! I cannot wait to see you all. Your new quarters are ready for the four of you.

The messenger that carries this page is well known to me. He will not lie to you. Listen to him, trust he is speaking the truth, then after he leaves, re-read this message. ~

Oh, I am so eager to see you again! I cannot wait to welcome you to the family!

Your Mamil,

Faylith Ranzau nee Rhyenelle

Rania pondered the letter over and over. She had heard that Queen Faylith was likeable and an ally for the elven community, but she used the familiar salutation of Your

Mamil

. Mamil is the elf word for mommy. And her signature... her maiden name was Faylith Rhyenelle? That's an elf name. And the tilde, ~, a shortcut to tell the knowledgeable that an enchantment was on the page. "I will see this messenger," said Rania. "Remain on guard, I don't trust humans."

"Yes my princess," said Olah and she stepped out on the porch of the caravan. The roof of the caravan extended over the front porch and over the driver's box. She turned around and said to the guards on either side of the door, "I will be back with the human that rode the dragon here. Be on your guard."

"Yes ma'am!" they said as Olah hopped down from the caravan and dashed to the cluster of guards that surrounded the messenger. When she got there, the messenger was entertaining the guards with stories of dragon flight. His hands were simulating the flight of two dragons that were soaring around the sky, weaving and flitting back and forth.

"We dropped in a spiral, like this, and Pendr came back around like this, and we popped up behind him and Lynne rolled like this and nipped his foot and I cried, 'TAG! You're it!'" The gathered guards chuckled at the exciting story, as Olah elbowed between them and stepped up to the messenger.

"The princess will see you now," said Olah. "Follow me. Nora, keep an eye on him."

"Yes nésa." (affectionate term for sister)

"Shouldn't you search me for weapons?" said the queen's messenger as he took off his leather blouson and handed it to a guard.

"Search him!" she ordered an elf guard. The guard patted down the messenger expertly while the other guard searched his leather and lamb skin blouson. When they were done, the messenger pulled the blouson back on and followed Olah to the royal caravan.

"Just because you're not armed doesn't mean I'm not," hissed Nora and she poked him in the back with the tip of her dagger.

"Yes my lady," said the messenger. "Please do not puncture my jacket with your blade, it was my father's before me."

They walked through the camp that overcame its shock of the gigantic dragon and regained its merry spirit, and the musicians started another cheerful song. Nora wanted to return to the dance, as did Olah, but they had the princesses' work to do first. As they climbed the step and entered the caravan, the messenger turned to one of the elf guards and handed him a dagger and said, "Make sure Lady Nora gets this back when we're done."

Nora gasped. She didn't realize that the messenger took her knife. How did he do that? She snatched it from the guard and inspected the knife. The blade was made of polished telepta silver, a metal so mystical that the reflection it shows was not of a different place, but of a different time. You could be seeing a reflection from yesterday, or a reflection from the day after tomorrow. The handle was made from north shore stag horn creating a magical handle that changes color in tune with the emotions of the person the blade was touching. Her full name, Nora Ulavaris, was carved into the handle and glowed in orange letters.

The messenger followed Olah into the caravan and it was dark inside the rolling boudoir. A lantern was lit, but it was backed by a mirror and shining through a lens, so it glared in the messenger's eyes. But he seemed to handle it fine. He bowed deeply and said, "Good evening, my lady. I bring tidings of welcome and joy from King Eric and Queen Faylith Ranzau. They are eager to meet you and can't wait to..."

"What of Prince Lars?" asked Princess Rania. She didn't give him permission to rise, so he remained bowed.

"What of him?" asked the messenger, still facing the floor.