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Kingfisher Chronicle VI

Chapter VI

Horses really are quite thick


Kingfisher sat looking out of one of the smaller windows of his private study, far out over the castle walls and onto the rich pasture below, pasture that stretched out as far as the eye could see was his latest acquisition, a magnificent white stallion that stood at more than seventeen hands at the shoulder. Its head was held high and proud as the morning breeze lifted its mane like a soft silk scarf.

The stallion could smell the mares that were grazing on the lush greenery of the flower meadow, they were playing coy and staying in the shade of the trees, their strong heavy scent carried well on the wind…They smelt good; at least one was approaching its season for mating.

The majestic white animal that was but a single ivory horn short of being a unicorn began to show itself off. Running and jumping the great white charger put on a dazzling show for the mares.

Kingfisher watched the stallion play its game of love with growing concern as he sat upon his most comfortable of thrones.

Kingfisher had many thrones in many rooms but this one was his most cherished and most often used as it occupied a lovely alcove spot in his favourite “morning” room just off of his study and adjacent to the Royal Library.

The Royal Library has many richly coloured tapestries adorning its walls as well as an assortment of weapons ( they look nice and just because you never know when a nice hefty axe or spear will come in handy) as well as a hundred or more long dark wooden book cases that contained every important piece of literature that had been published over the last 200 years.

But here in this little alcove, that is tucked away just out of sight Kingfisher usually spends his time reading something a little lighter than the Toolkeen or Shuddespeares that sit just out of his grasp and when on days like today, when his mind is nothing more than a fog of jumbled thoughts and even simple the act of reading pulp trash would be waste of his time he simply relaxes and and looks out over the long and exhilarating vistas that his present location enjoys.

Weeks previous, even before The Auditor had made his fateful visit Kingfisher had decided that the Kingdom of Dvorganna Fjall should take a proactive lead and organise some sort of a meeting between all of the frontier monarchs and regional clan leaders, something that would be easier said than done as he had already found out after he wasted a whole evening trying to sort out a guest list with his good friend General Jahmedhi merely to discover at the end of all their deliberations the only names upon the list were his own and that of his Goblin friend.

Obviously that wasn’t a very inclusive list and would never be a viable proposition if the party was to be a success. The one advantage Kingfisher had in his favour was that pretty much all of the local monarchs hated the very sights of each other after decades of border skirmishing and seasonal raids upon each other consumable commodities.

However the knowledge that all his close neighbours had serious issues with the current state of the Empire gave him hope that a compromise could be arranged where there would be something mutually beneficial upon the table for everyone involved, for as the old saying goes “The enemy of my enemy is my friend” and that being the case, if he could galvanise support along his borderlands it would go a long way to ensuring that any Imperial attack upon his Kingdom’s Sovereign identity would be that little bit more difficult to achieve and likewise among his counterparts.

Together the Frontier Kingdoms stood a chance against the Empire and it’s huge Imperial Army, if however they could not put aside their common differences they were doomed to be taken out one by one and picked clean of their independence. The Empire with all its supranational bureaucrats and legislators could not and would not tolerate individuality and independent thought.

Dvorganna Fjall was going to fast become a thorn in the side of every busy bodied know it all Nanny State meddler within the halls of the Imperial Senate and if truth be told kingfisher was looking forwards to it. For even the smallest wound made by the tiniest of thorns can become infected and swiftly worsen into a life threatening illness capable of felling even the most mighty of beasts.

And so a party was to be planned, a great banquet that would run in conjunction with his annual midget wrestling and dwarf tossing tournament.

And even though the prospect of inviting hundreds of guests into the inner working of the Fjall threatened to give General Jahmedhi ( now retired)  a heart condition a fair few more than the two he considered safe would be need to be invited for the venture to be a success.

Politics was never Kingfishers strong point and a life in politics was never something he had aspired to but Kingfisher had to admit to himself that this plan looked to be a winner, a first-class initiative if ever there was one! Unfortunately the scale of the logistical organization involved in structuring such an event was really starting to affect his digestive tract’s well being, hence he found that he was spending longer and longer everyday on his favourite throne ensconced in this his most comfortable of alcoves.

Lost in his thoughts, kingfisher looked out of the window and over his many parapets, turrets, crenelations and towers and onto the fertile green meadows beyond. Green pasture that stretched as wide and as far as the eye could see. The  lone white stallion was still galloping and cavorting in the distance. Running and jumping for the pure enjoyment of doing so…

The stallion had been a gift from a bordering monarch and honorary Dragon Clan member Queen Lorelei of the Lowlands and even though Kingfisher would always be a dragon riding man at heart he thought the beast was quite magnificent and he would try to make time for a ride sometime later that day.

Life for such creatures was simple Kingfisher thought. They should try finding seventy midgets and a quartet of hermaphrodite referees at short notice, now that is something that would soon take the spring out of their step for certain. The price for a decent set of hermaphrodites was going through the roof with the current craze in dwarf tossing, why the referees need to be “a bit of both” was beyond Kingfishers grasp as was much of what happens in this his new homeland of his. Where he came from sporting events usually revolved around twenty two men kicking an inflated pigs bladder around for a few hours before everyone retired to the nearest tavern for a few horns of mead and maybe a bag of pork scratching.

Sometimes he wished he was back home but he soon remembered that there was no home left to go to, it was all gone, so he should just keep his chin up and get on with the task at hand and at the end of the day it wasn’t as though he didn’t like midget wrestling and dwarf tossing, he loved them…he just missed the old days and his old country sometimes.

Kingfisher regained his focus, the day was moving away from him, he couldn’t linger here, he had things to do and so he reached over his head and pulled the flush cord.

Immediately a rather old and decrepit looking brown skinned Bog Goblin dashed into the room and threw a bucket of water into the marble bowl flushing away the monarchs worries with a  well aimed and highly practiced surge of pine scented water, Kingfisher flicked a copper penny at the Bog-Goblin “ Cheers mate!”

“No probz King geezer…yooz want some smelly on yooz ?” rasped the Bog Goblin, its horrifically violent teeth protruding at a number of strange angles from its jaw line

“Nah, I’m good thanks…I will just wash my hands if you don’t mind” Kingfisher replied “Wife and kids okay Gingy?” Kingfisher looked down at the small brown creature dressed very smartly in his valets outfit with a warm fluffy towel folded over its pencil thin little arm; Kingfisher was very fond of his Bog Goblin.

“O mate don’t talks about herz …Shiz duz mi box in mate…Babbiz! Babbiz! Babbiz! I only have to point mi knob at her and shiz preggerz”

“Clammy’s not having another litter is she? Already?” Asked Kingfisher, he always referred to Gingy’s wife this way as her full name is Chlamydia Dysentery Sepsis Fucklebucket which is something of a mouth full.

Goblins do not adhere to the usual naming protocols taken up by most races both northern and southern, Goblins simply use any word they like the sounds of when naming their children. Unfortunately for Chlamydia her parents picked  her name from a free manual regarding the importance of maintaining ones sexual health and using safe sex practices.

(This manual is also the reason why she has brothers called Poxed Donkey Shagger Fucklebucket, Syphilitic Lip Sores Fucklebucket, Testicular Swelling Fucklebucket, Gonorrhea Clappyflaps  Fucklebucket and a favourite sister Human Papilloma Virus Fucklebucket)

“Nah…Shiz not preggerz King! Not yet anywayz but datz all shiz banging on about all mi dayz and all night like innit! It int like we ant got enuf of da little shitz already like  izzit?” The Goblin shook his head in disbelief “I iz telling yooz Kingly, I jus can’t keep up wiv it!” moaned Gingy (whose full name is actually Gingivitis Poor Oral Hygiene Fucklebucket. Yes, that is right his wife is actually his sister (half sister actually…Squirted from the same father into different mothers) and yes true to form his father picked his name from a free pamphlet whilst at the dentist having an impacted finger bone removed from the back row of his teeth)

“Didn’t you have a litter just last month?” Enquired kingfisher politely as he dried his hands

“Yeah but Nah…I drowned da little bastardz. Dem little fingz were never mine in a munf of Sundiz like… Dem woz little cuckooz dem had more dan a hint ov Polecat in ‘em! No way on dis planet she dint shag dat rancid Polecat dat lives next door Kingly mate”

(Don’t ask but let’s just say for the moment that Goblin DNA has a very unusual reproductive mechanic)


“Troof dat!” answered the Bog Goblin with a pinched expression

“So, Polecats bastards and such likes aside how many kids have you got now?” Asked Kingfisher

“Furdysicks” Answered the little Bog Goblin “Furdyfrigginsicks!”

“Thirty Six kids!” Kingfisher laughed out loud

“No…Furdysicks litters!”

“Whoa!” exclaimed the blue haired monarch “What’s that?  About four or six to the litter?”

“Yeah, shiz can do a bit more dan six like cos shiz  got a bit ov pig in da bloodline but shiz had enough babbiz for anybodiz! I iz telling yooz now mate, sheez be lucky if her piss flapz dunt drop off at dis rate!”

Kingfisher was now in a state of shocked astonishment at what Gingy had to say, sometimes the whole Goblin train of thought was too much for the human mind to make sense of and when that happens it is simply best to not try to make sense of and just sit quietly and listen.

“Look at uz Goblingz …Weez old school like…Religionz springing up everywhere and all dat Imperial fing banning fighting wiv uz Goblinz and suchlike! Uz Goblinz weez born for war” Gingy flashed his fangs in a bloodthirsty snarl “I mean seriously,no war!?! What type ov world izzat to bring a litter ov babbiz in to mate? Old Toss Bag Senior stuck me and mi seventy four bruvvaz in da military az soon az we wuz seven weekz old! Thrown into basic training straight away no bovver, it nevva dun me no arm did it?”

“Well you are still here mate!” Smiled the King (He had heard similar stories from several Goblins already this week)

The Bog Goblin continued unabated “Ok, it can be said dat diz only seven ov uz left, seven and a half if yooz count “Stumpy”… but if I iz honest wiv yooz, I dint like most ov dem inbred mongerz anywayz!”


“Aye, mi half bruvva out ov mi favaz dick, eez one seriously spannered Goblin, proper fick like, he lost both iz legs on a land mine!”

“That’s a bit harsh!”

“Not really, it woz iz own landmine…He was laying dem az a trap but he iz dat fick iz forgot where iz buried da fingz!” The Goblin started to laugh hysterically “Natural wastage mate and wiz wunt be wivout it cos wivout war uz Goblinz can’t sort da wheat from da chaff and wiz getting over populated wiv mongz so I say dat furdysicks litters iz enuf babbiz till wiz get to av anuver proper blow out and can waste a few ov da crap ones”

“That being the case, you would think that thirty six litters would indeed be enough children for anyone” Kingfisher dried his hands; he didn’t know what to say to his little Bog Goblin. Times had indeed changed, the Goblin men were being forced into finding safe jobs but the Goblin women still wanted to breed like they had just gone to war.

Kingfisher stepped out of his little room and into the main part of his study, its focal feature being the panorama window. He spotted the white flash of the stallion again.

Running, jumping and kicking up a storm of excitement the stallion put on a show for the mares that would not soon be forgotten. He would dominate this herd as he had done his last. He had come to these lands as a present to the King, for he was a horse that was fit only to be ridden by a king…And his foals would make great horses for Princes and Princesses for generations to come.

Kingfisher walked over to his desk and picked up a small oblong card from atop a rather large stack, he looked down at the Gold embossed invitation in his hand; it was a beautifully crafted piece of work neatly stacked awaiting dispatch.

The card simply read.


King Kai’Ang V’Shoor of the Frontier Kingdom of Dvorganna Fjall would be honoured by your attendance on a Sunday week to his annual Dwarf Tossing and Midget Wrestling tournament.


Dress is smart but casual armour, weapons to be kept to a minimum ( bladed weapons only, no hand muskets or grenades thank you) . Please feel free to bring a guest.


Best regards






Kingfisher’s little get together’s were usually kept within the Fjall and members of the Dragon Clan, he had never sent out this many invites before. He hoped that everything would go well…It had to go well…Failure was not an option!

He placed the card back with the rest and pulled out his mobile Orb. He needed a final opinion.


Meanwhile unseen outside…


The great grey war Dragon Gra’chen came out from the sun like a solar flare, its wings clipped back into a sharp stoop like a monstrous alopecia afflicted falcon it sped unseen towards its target, its speed unprecedented for such a massive creature.

Hitting the horse square on the flank its hind claw swept in just as an osprey would attack a large salmon. The Stallions ribcage was torn away to reveal a mass of writhing organs…The horse, shocked by the impact twisted its head, its eyes wild with panic.

It tried to call out but only blood issued from its mouth…For all intents and purposes it was already dead.

The soot stained muzzle and the razor sharp teeth of the winged beast as it closed in for the coup de grace were the last thing the great white stallion saw as the Dragon clasped the horse by the head, the vague awareness of great pressure and the noise of splintering bone a far off sensation to the mortally wounded steed before oblivion and the blessed release from torment as the dragon tore away head from neck with one swift wrenching maneuver..

Unbeknownst to Gra’chen its kill hadn’t gone unseen, a pair of mares that were sheltering beneath  the branches of a large oak that shielded them from the the preying eyes of airborne dragons looked on in disappointment as their afternoon of wild sex was ripped limb from limb, they were however in agreement that the stallion wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer therefore it was a relief to them that they had been spared the ignominy of bringing  forth the children of such a complete twat as the snow white stallion that thought it a good idea to prance about in broad daylight below the castle walls of Dvorganna Fjall…the home to many dozens of dragons!

Kingfisher also spotted a large grey Dragon that could only be the Gra’chen guarding a fresh slaughter from two smaller Dragons. Kingfisher always enjoyed watching Dragons hunt and kill. Unfortunately he hadn’t got around to putting  two and two together and so he was of yet unaware that this kill had been his newly delivered and highly prized white Stallion!

The sphere clouded and then cleared as Kingfisher tried to make the connection, his large clumsy fingers not suited to such work…Finally he did it. Holding the Orb to his ear he walked over to the window.

Gra’chen swept a wing around the carcass, it wasn’t about to share its kill quite so easily. The smaller dragons would have to wait.

Horse meat this fine wasn’t meant to be shared.

The Orb rang and rang and rang. Finally Talia picked up, she sounded breathless.


Talia winced on the other side, her eardrum reverberating “There is no need to shout Kai” She waggled her finger deep inside her ear “Just talk normally”


Talia hated Kai’s Mobile Orb calls…He just didn’t grasp the words “talk normally”

“Yes Kai…Give me a few moments…I will be straight there”


“Ok …Good”


Ten minutes later Talia stepped out of her private quarters, as she did she spared a momentary backwards glance and smiled. Giving a tiny little girly wave she blew a tiny little girly kiss. She was obviously leaving some unfinished business behind. Dressed in a plunging black sued tabard over Mithril embellished black undershirt with thin bands of small black dragon scales at the hems and elbow, a thin black leather belt that supported a gold pouch and a short sword in a black scabbard.

Thigh length boots finished the outfit and as per usual she looked every piece the sexy assassin.

She was very happy indeed, the day had started extremely well and she was sure that it was going to be good one. She smiled to herself as she walked the along the stone floored corridor towards Kingfishers study. Looking out of the windows she saw three Dragons in flight fighting over the hind leg of what she presumed to have once been a white horse. Dangerous horseplay if ever she saw it, if they were to drop the thing, somebody could be seriously injured.

The heels of her boots struck sparks from the stone flooring, The poetry of her form conveyed in the rhythm of their strikes, she began to whistle to herself and then sing sweetly. She had the voice of an angel, an angel with blood red hair and a penchant for the unusual but an angel none the less.

The words drifted sweetly down the corridor “I kissed a  girl…and I liked it…Taste of her cherry chap stick…I kissed a girl just to try it…Hope my boyfriend don’t mind it…” The words amused her. They made her happy.

Soon enough she was at her destination, she stood at the door and composed herself, drawing her boot knife she checked her reflection in the mirror finish of the blade, quickly she ran her fingers through her hair extracting what looked to be a small cluster of crunchy nut cornflakes from the nape of her neck. Brushing a stray ginger hair from her left sleeve she proceeded to knock.

“Come in” Kingfisher bellowed

Talia opened the door to see Kingfisher standing on the window sill shouting at a Dragon that was perched across the courtyard looking quite sheepish for a three ton beast with diamond teeth and claws that were as long as a saber. “That was very very naughty!!…That was my horse!!…You have your own horses!!…Now get inside and take the other two with you…Bad boy…BAD BOY!!!”

“Problem?” She enquired

Kingfisher turned around and stepped down from the window “Gra’chen…He’s only gone and eaten my new bloody horse, I wouldn’t mind but I hadn’t even had chance to ride the damned thing yet…He’s always been like that…So very jealous”

Talia did a curtsy as she approached her King and then she planted a small kiss on his cheek “Thank you for arranging my breakfast in bed treat this morning…It was wonderful”

Kingfisher dismissively waved his hand “You deserved a treat…and anyway a good breakfast sets you up for the day…”

“You can say that again…There really is nothing like a good hard breakfasting session to start the day” She laughed

“Will you be keeping her for lunch…Or can I expect to see her myself later”

“I couldn’t eat another thing at the moment…I’m stuffed…But we shall see…I may fancy a high tea later with scones and jam” She gave her King a little wink

“Very well…You see how you feel later” Kingfisher smiled and then pressed on with his reason for calling Talia to his quarters “Anyway this isn’t getting business sorted, it’s just making me… Hungry…As you know Sh’Vorn is away sourcing me some special requirements for the upcoming entertainment I have planned, so if you wouldn’t mind could you arrange the dispatch of those invitations over on the desk”

Talia looked at the stack of cards, there were far more than usual but it wouldn’t be a problem to have them dispatched. She walked over to the desk she knocked them together into a neat pile and pushed them into a small leather diplomatic satchel that she took from the top draw “Are these all of them?”

“Yes, just those…And please ensure they go first class”

“As always” Talia smiled and left the room to carry out her duties

Kingfisher went over to the window and looked out; he reached into the hollow behind his breastplate and pulled out his Mobile Orb.

The tip of his tongue was out of his mouth and writhed like a snake that had been trodden on by an overweight Troll as he once again tried to master the digitally dexterous endeavours of dialing out.


Kingfisher eventually returned the demonic Orb from whence it came and pondered what kind of cruel and twisted mind developed such small and intricate workings. They obviously had no idea of the effects on ones ability to carry out such actions after swinging a war axe for twenty years. His next Orb would be one of those bowling ball sized ones!

Kingfisher busied himself for most of the rest of the day with the organisation for his party. He did however stop for a late afternoon tea with Talia. He thought it a good idea…As it is as easy to get two cups out of a pot as one…And it saved on the maids running from one room to the other something which does tend to tire them unnecessarily.

With all the details finally finished Kingfisher had nothing left to do but wait…

The replies soon began to roll in…Most of the invitations were accepted with good grace…One or two did reply that they would rather drink their own vomit than attend but as the old saying goes “One that goes through life without making an occasional enemy is one that has not lived”

This party was going to be huge!

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