Chapter One – SER WILLIAM

Ser William Robertson had never known a life outside of Bogman’s Keep, but then again, he had not needed to reach far for the pursuits he sought. When in need of new scenery, William—or Willie as his friends and family called him–traveled the 1,919 horse clops to the nearby Truck peninsula and paid a visit to his uncle Sigh’s tavern and roadside eatery. There was nothing a hot boot full of grease grog and a barrel of his uncle’s pickled people’s feet could not fix, or at least Willie held such a belief as he mounted his prize mare Shania in pursuit of such a feast. The boy king Dayle Earnhardt was a demanding ruler, but Willie knew his cause was just. Or at least would result in him receiving more golden racecars, the king’s new currency. Willie had not the mind for sorting out matters of truth. No, on this night Willie’s mind attached to one goal and one goal only: the acquisition of enough grease grog to make him forget his woes.

By the time Willie reached Sigh’s, the establishment was bustling with activity. He saw Wobbler of East Fart enjoying a game of snooker with the boy king’s twin jesters, Joxer and Jett. Mary Sue Prescott Bush was hanging on the arm of Jack Rifle just like she was every chance she got. Buck Hogg and the Gator Gals, a popular traveling bard and his steady backing band, were serenading the crowd with their own rendition of “I Ayn’t As Good As I Once Was.” After scanning the room, Willie spotted his uncle Sigh and his brother Jehp in the corner of the main room, speaking in an animated fashion about a matter that must have been of great importance. Willie rushed in to settle the issue.

“Hey, look here, Jehp over here don’t think I should be allowed to bestow my estate and contracted deals upon Great Tea Jug in the event of my demise, Jack!” Uncle Sigh said before a word could escape Willie’s lips. Willie turned to his left to face his younger brother, a mischief maker with a twinkle in his eye. Jehp would have had the world were it not for his persistent addiction to the Liquid of the Duck.

“Look, Willie, this is how it is: Great Tea Jug ain’t no person. Great Tea Jug looks like a big ol’ thing of tea to me, and that’s it. Also I would like to make it clear that I am averse to labor and enjoy the position of privilege often afforded the youngest sibling in a wealthy empire.”

Willie nodded solemnly and stroked his frayed beard, unable to determine how he might weigh in on such a delicate issue. On the one hand, Great Tea Jug was only a thing of tea that was really big. On the other hand, his Uncle Sigh really liked Great Tea Jug and had almost certainly used it in a manner that must not reach the public’s ever-watching eye.

A voice spoke softly over Willie’s shoulder. “What are you dirt dogs stirrin’ up?” It was Mary Sue Prescott Bush, the most beautiful woman in Truck peninsula by a stag’s union mile. She was the sort of woman so beautiful she might make a man’s heart pick up a dozen beats, or his meal contain a fatal amount of poison.

“Mary, Mary, Mary. Please leave, we have now met our mandate of seven words spoken by a female born. You may lower your blouse and sit six paces back, slightly out of frame,” Willie ordered. Willie briefly felt out of line for his actions until he remembered that The Vengeful Swamp God’s Book of Unquestioned Truths and 101 Ways to Turn Your Rags to Robes granted him explicit permission for such a dismissal. Then encounter then emboldened Willie, further justifying his actions.

“Uncle Sigh, you shall lie down half of your life’s pinnings at the feet of your beloved Great Tea Jug. The other half shall be distributed amongst the family members with the lengthiest beards to purchase the Utility Terrain Horses of their choice.” Sigh nodded, but Jehp was not as easy to comfort.

“Come on, Willie, you know that there tea jug ain’t—” Jehp’s outburst was cut short as Willie grabbed him by his “I’m With Stupid” tunic and pulled him aside.

“Jehp! You must trust your older brother in his decision. Once Uncle Sigh’s eyes are closed for good, once we know he ain’t returning as a ghostbat or a log banshee, we shall retrieve the remainder of his fortune from Great Tea Jug. We shall then dispose of Great Tea Jug, but in a totally respectful manner with a bunch of fyreworks.” Willie knew his plan sounded wise as it sat in the air in front of a slowly comprehending Jehp.

“I gotcha now, brother, I should have understood your word as the family elder would carry the weight of one thousand pontoon boats with aggressive names painted on their sides,” Jehp said, clearly taken by the emotion of his realization.

“Hey! What are mine handsome nephews conferring about slightly out of my earshot, Jack?” Uncle Sigh called from mere feet away.

“Nothing!” the Robertson brothers bellowed in unison. The three men laughed for what would be the last time that year. None of the trio could have known in that pure and slightly deceitful moment that chaos was about to descend on Truck peninsula that night, chaos that would change the southern province of Budwesier Valley forever. That was the night the boy king Dayle Earnhardt supported the right of a serf to protest his oppressor.