1a: Mary Intro

The varied terrain of the Gray Ridge Mountains contains many different biomes. There are places where a traveler can walk a few kilometers and pass through mountain scrublands, deciduous forests, and swampy bottomlands. Cross through a mountain pass and you could go from a rocky wasteland to a fertile river valley. The mountains themselves are riddled with caves, some leading to the Underdark.

These different biomes support a surprising variety of sapient species, each one in its ecological niche. Goblins take to the mountains, wild desolate places where less cunning races could not prosper. Orcs settle into the valleys of the rivers that can support the traffic of large boats. Gnomes favor the hidden and quiet places with access to smaller streams, brooks, lakes, and swamps. Hobgoblins scratch a living with three-sisters farming in the rough hills, forming sprawling clans to defend their turf. Kobolds live where there are animals to hunt and trap, and caves that can be defended with traps. Tiny villages of Dragonborn and Tieflings cling to places where their ancient fallen empires once had great cities. Other, stranger races lurk in various places, the details of their cultures and ways known only to pack-pedlars, mendicant clerics of evangelical gods, and the wizards of Iradin university, who send grad students on anthropological surveys.

Then there are the races that have moved in from the continents to the east. Dwarves claim those rare mountains that can be made into a great fortress, mining and burrowing into the mountain and terracing its outside to grow rows of grains. Elves move into forests and terraform them over hundreds of years, making them into beautiful orchards of diverse types of trees that grow everything from fruit and nuts to mithral armor, and eventually crafting grand courtly cities and splitting their society into the castes of wood-elves of the forests and high-elves of the courts. Halflings live wherever there is a civilization that will allow them, for their niche is the city.

Humans find defensible places that can support both farming and mining, and form proud independent fairy-tale kingdoms nestled in picturesque secluded valleys. They build castles to guard the mountain passes, and fill the valleys with farms divided by split-rail fences.

In the time our story begins, one of the richest and most prosperous of these was the Kingdom of Mecklenberg. It commanded a fertile river valley and a mine of enchantment-grade mica that was constantly renewed by a fast-upwelling mountain. Crafters turned this mica into magical shields and armor, which was sold to the wealthy and well-connected and also issued to a well-trained royal guard. The Mecklenberg Guard, along with an inaccessible location and the credible threat of a magitech self-destruct device to scuttle the mines, secured the kingdom against any outside threat smaller than a major world power.

The kingdom was ruled by the Hanovers. They descended from a bold adventurer who had, hundreds of years ago, driven the kobolds from the valley, cleared out the ghoul-and-construct-infested remnants of a Dragonborn logistics depot, and finally slain the dragon living in the mica mine. Rather than move on to the next adventure, she laid claim to the valley, invited all of her friends to join her, mail-ordered a wizard husband from Iradin, and settled down to live the good life.

Over the centuries, as her descendants and the descendants of her friends filled the valley, the royal family became focused on preserving its status among the other humans, which meant distinguishing themselves with a performance of being wealthy, powerful nobles. If they started doing common things, then the commoners might start to wonder what exactly the difference between commoner and royalty was.

And so it was that Princess Mary Hanover, who had inherited the wild energy and yearnings of her ancestor Charlotte, had a rough childhood. The demands of her family's status were constantly in conflict with the demands of her nature, and status usually won when a compromise could not be found.

Falconry was one of the better compromises, combining the pastimes of royalty with Mary's love of animals and wild things. Mary was in the middle of an ordinary enjoyable morning in the aviary, feeding her red-tailed hawks from a bucket of freshly killed rats, when she saw a young gnome, one of the house-servants, scurrying towards her.

"Your Highness, His Majesty has requested that you report to Emilia in the wardrobe vault immediately."

Mary sighed. "Thank you, I will be right over. Please have Soaring Eagle finish the feeding."

She knew how this worked. If she was late or did not come, the servant would be blamed and punished. This implied threat to others was the best way the family had found to make her obey. But as usual, she had a way to resist, to assert her will. You could never get in trouble if you obeyed commands to the letter, going to extreme measures to do so.

So she took a deep breath, turned towards the keep, crouched down, and took off in a very unladylike sprint. Although it was scandalously without decorum, her stride was graceful and her breathing steady as she bounded through the paths, turning swiftly and sidestepping around obstacles as necessary. She had a runner's thin physique, suited for swift movement and long steady effort, and her clothing of trousers and elf-made moccasins gave her the freedom of movement she needed.

As she ran, she took a moment to relish the feel of this practical clothing, knowing that she would soon be taken from it. She was surely being called to the wardrobe vault to be fitted for some kind of horrible confining corsetry and costuming, in preparation for being paraded around at some ball or ancient religious ritual or coronation or something. She was about to suffer through several hours of standing still inside, being poked and prodded and slowly encased in a stifling cocoon of elegant silken fripperies, like a web-trapped bug being wrapped up by a spider. Her running was not just petulance, it was a way to burn off energy so she could tolerate standing around and being cooped up for so long.

As much as she might have preferred to arrive at the vault sweaty and out of breath and looking like a miserable commoner, as a rebuke to being ordered around, she bounded in swiftly and gracefully, her breathing only slightly elevated, like a huntress reporting for duty.

She noticed one of the guards looking at her with appreciative interest. He obviously saw the Princess not as an untouchable distant noble, but as an attractive, healthy, graceful woman. He doing his best, and failing miserably, to disguise his interest and desire. Mary grinned and winked at him, not because she had any interest in him, but because causing chatter and rumors would be excellent retaliation for whatever dignified indignity she was about to be subjected to.

Then she saw that there were five guards in the antechamber guarding the vault, including Captain Daniels. That was unusual. Usually there would only be one or two lower-ranked guards, to make sure that the servants did not filch any valuable pieces of clothing, or threaten a member of the royal family. And in addition to Emilia, the dressmaker, there was Gustavo the armorer and several of his workers.

The Captain nodded respectfully and seriously at her. "Thankyew for yer promptness." He looked to see if anyone was around, and after confirming that no household servants were anywhere nearby, continued, "Yer bein' fitted for a suit o' Mica Scale, and it's best we finish soon as possible, before any word can spread."

This was serious. The magic-resistant Mica Scale armor, the family's source of wealth and power, was real armor, for warriors and adventurers, not lady's costuming.

Captain Daniels opened the vault. "Private Shuford." He glared at the guard who had ogled Mary. "Guard the door. Ever'one else, inside."

They crowded in between the rows of fancy suits with their silk and lace and pearls and shiny glamoured magical baubles. Daniels then closed the vault door. "Everyone turn to face the door and close yer eyes. Even you, Princess."

They did so. Daniels moved about. Mary heard mechanical clicking and buzzing, then a sharp brief hum, like an insect but somehow more metallic and airy at the same time. "Okay, you can look now."

A part of the floor had swung up, revealing a ladder to a lower vault. Mary had been in the clothing vault many times, and had never seen a trapdoor there or guessed its existence. "Okay, ever'one down."

Mary had always known that her family must have a true treasure vault, one filled not with stupid gold and gems and decorations, but with real magical treasures: weapons, armor, shields, and fantastic devices. She knew that there were many warriors and adventurers in her family's history, and she knew that they shared the same magical equipment, a growing collection of heirlooms passed through the generations. She knew that somewhere in the castle, all of their gear would be stored, waiting to be used, a heaping pile of magical treasure glittering with enchantment and possibility.

This is not what she saw in the lower vault. Instead, she saw workbenches, tools, and mannequins for fitting. One wall was filled with a grid of locked steel doors, ranging in size from an oven door to a jewelry box.

Daniels looked at Mary. "Do not touch any of those doors. In fact, do not get within five feet of any of them."

The gnomes started arranging themselves silently at the workbenches, either following prearranged instructions or guessing their role. They very carefully did not look at Daniels as he went to one of the larger doors, tapped it with a wand in three places, unlocked it with a mithral key, and took out a suit of armor.

He handed the armor to Gustavo, who arranged it on a mannequin. Mary saw that it was fit for a woman, although one larger and more full-figured than herself. Why had she never heard any stories of a woman adventurer in her family's history?

She turned to Daniels. "Who did this belong to?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. I was just given box numbers and keys and instructions."

"Why am I being fitted for real armor?"

"I can't say."

His brusque manner, and the efficient technical chatter of the gnomes, told Mary that there would be no conversation. So she stood silently as she was measured, and various parts of armor were tested, strapped, unstrapped, and adjusted. This gave her plenty of time to ponder what was going on.

Why would she be dressed in real armor?

There was only one possible answer: She was being sent to meet Martin Cooper, and her father had calculated that this outfit was the best way to make her look attractive to him.

In her less fiery and more thoughtful moments, Mary understood her family's situation. She knew that roles must be performed and images must be maintained. If they were not, the social order that benefited her so much would be threatened. The continuation of her comfortable lifestyle, perhaps even her life, required that her family follow rules and conventions and play politics, sometimes ruthlessly. Mary, despite her hatred for the arrogant class-consciousness and racism of her family, understood this at some level, and so she usually did what was necessary to go along with their plots and schemes.

The daughters of the family were placed in political marriages that maintained the independence of Mecklenberg and the sovereignty of Hanover. Most of the women in her family were, or appeared to be, perfectly happy with this. Some were content to live happy lives of idle decadence, others enjoyed being the cunning and powerful center of vast intrigues, and a few cultivated the arts of magic and enchantment. The temperaments of Hanover daughters were visible at an early age, and they were generally were placed in situations that fit them. Mary was the only one who was not understood, who did not fit into any role they knew. She alternated between hating them for their stupidity and hating herself for being a freak.

Although at the time she saw only boneheaded rigidity, Mary would later learn that His Majesty, King Frederick, despite his many faults, was very good at playing politics, and at working with the tools and materials that the gods gave him. He knew that it would be a mistake to try to force Mary to be something that she was not. She had been given an unprecedented freedom to follow her whims and do her own thing, within reason. Her more traditional siblings could be fit into more traditional roles. Royal families were allowed to have a couple oddballs. Crushing her spirit would definitely destroy her and make her useless, and allowing her to do her own thing might have an unexpected benefit.

And in his own way, the king did care about Mary's well-being. Obviously he could not give her anything that threatened the kingdom or the family's place as its rulers, but she was his daughter, and he did love her, as much as he was capable of love.

So when Mary reached the age of marriage, His Majesty had her send a proposal to Martin Cooper, the powerful but uncouth wizard of common birth who had spent the last three years rearranging the political landscape (and occasionally the physical landscape) of the Gray Ridge region. Mary had no choice in this, but it was clear to her that in the unlikely event that a marriage actually happened, she would tolerate being Martin's wife much better than she would tolerate any other suitable husband. And she would tolerate being Martin's wife much better than any of her sisters would tolerate being hitched to a wilderness-tromping commoner.

Martin was, or pretended to be, the kind of scatterbrained wizard who would let marriage proposals sit around for years before he got around to answering them one way or another, or even acknowledging them. This meant that, while waiting for his response, Mary had enjoyed a nice time of freedom. This time had obviously ended.

After the initial fitting was done, and the gnomes strapped every piece of the armor on and were satisfied that it was all secure, Mary got another surprise. Captain Daniels said, "Okay, step down and start movin' around. Tell 'em if anything pinches or rattles or restricts your movement."

This was new. In dress fittings, nobody ever cared if Mary could move around comfortably. She was lucky if she could sit down without ripping something. She tentatively stepped down and started through a series of dance steps, gliding gracefully around in a waltz. The gnomes scurried around her, looking, listening, and occasionally poking at the armor.

It felt good. Mary had always assumed that armor was like her dresses, but even heavier and worse. But she could move around in this armor more easily than she could in most dresses. It was a revelation that made her even angrier at her family's stupid rules. She was constantly forced into in things that confined and hobbled her, and displayed parts of her body like some kind of prize horse, while men got to wear a shiny, comfortable, stylish outfit that could turn a boar-spear and stop a force bolt from a six-shooter. And the man's outfit came with pockets and a utility belt.

Captain Daniels watched this for a few minutes, letting Mary get used to the weight and feel of the armor. Then he called out. "Really move. Act like yer tromping through the woods in yer trousers. Cut loose. Drop to the floor, get up, run, jump, climb up the ladder, do a cartwheel."

Mary hesitated. This had gone beyond eccentric and into creepy. What exactly was she supposed to be doing when she met Martin? But she complied, tentatively at first, and then eagerly. She might never get another chance to play around in armor, so she might as well enjoy it.

It was hard to lift her arms to climb, and the armor nearly slid off when she did the cartwheel, but otherwise it worked really well. Obviously it was harder than moving around in a cotton shirt and trousers, but it was easier, and a lot more fun, than formalwear.

After she had gone through her paces, the gnomes took off the armor and started to fix the shoulder movement and adjust the waist and hips for a better fit when upside down. Daniels handed Mary a canteen to drink from, and then, almost before she realized what was happening, he handed her a shield.

It was beautiful. A mosaic of white and black mica flakes formed the falcon crest of House Hanover. Daniels showed her how to strap it onto her arm and hold it. Then he handed her a small curved sword in a steel scabbard. "Hold this gently, no sudden movements."

Mary immediately noticed that it clashed with the rest of the outfit. Both the scabbard and what she could see of the sword hilt were ridiculously ornamented, with inlays of gold and gemstones. The inlays on the scabbard formed a stylized picture of someone in an exotic outfit slashing a dragon's throat. It had obviously come from far away, no doubt taken in some grand adventure by one of her ancestors.

One of the gnomes looked at Mary's hand with a jeweler's loupe that had a glowing green pinwheel spinning on its side. "No odd magical effects detected, sir. Looks like a good match."

Daniels nodded, then took the sword and shield and put them back into their lockers. He then instructed Mary and the gnomes through a second round of movement testing and armor fitting, and then a third. After hours of work, he announced, "That's good enough for now. Get it oiled and coated and ready for field work."

Mary turned around at this. "Field work? What are you planning? Will I be going through a hike in the woods with Martin?"

"I can't say, ma'am. Now, let's go get you a good lunch."

Daniels took Mary out of the vault, locking the gnomes and soldiers inside, and then escorted her to the dining hall before going into the King's Chambers for a consultation with His Majesty and the royal advisers and sages.

After lunch, things got even stranger. Daniels took Mary to the training yard and explained that he would be teaching her the basics of fighting with the scimitar and shield. Mary, who had been hoping for something like this for as long as she could remember, did not ask any more questions about what was going on. She simply resolved to be the best student possible, to learn as much as she could and do as well as she could. It did not matter why this was happening, it only mattered that it not get interrupted and last as long as possible.

After two days of intense training, the armor was ready. Then Daniels and Soaring Eagle took her on hikes through the woods, showing her how to manage while equipped with armor, sword, shield, and an adventurer's pack. After they got back in the afternoon, Daniels would instruct the gnomes on more armor adjustments and continue her sword training. At night Mary would get luxurious massages and herbal treatments to help her heal and recover, and if that did not work, the family's cleric would give her a healing spell.

After four days of this, they stayed out for a night of camping in the woods (with Mary's maidservant Belén sharing her tent as chaperone, of course.) Then, things got even more intense. They woke Mary up early in the morning, before the sun rose, and walked her through deep woods in the dark. They took her to an abandoned mine shaft, where a gnome miner taught Mary the basics of mine safety and led her, still wearing full armor and kit, into the depths. Then Daniels drilled her again, sparring by the dim blue light of glowing miner's helmets.

After Mary got used to this, the miner started making a beastly racket, using a horn and some kind of gnomish noisemaking contraption. Mary almost lost her nerves at this, but pushed through, reminding herself that this was just a test. She knew that she was being trained to adventure the same way that she trained falcons to wear a hood and leash, by slow and steady habituation to overcome her instincts.

As a finale, they made it even scarier by having the gnome fire crossbow bolts over Mary's head. A week ago, she had been forbidden from even swinging a stick or carrying a knife into the woods. Now she was equipped with real armor and shield and a real-feeling bamboo scimitar, sparring with the captain of the royal guard, in dim ghostly light, in an abandoned mine shaft with bad footing, with a loud racket blaring in her ears, while bolts whistled over her head. And yet, she managed to keep calm and focus on the fast graceful sword style that she had been taught, sidestepping and parrying Daniels's strong fierce attacks.

When they went back to the castle that night, Mary saw her father for the first time in a week. She had not seen him at all since the morning she was first called into the armor fitting. That usually happened when he was plotting something. When he joined her and the family at dinner, she thanked him sincerely, but politely and with as much decorum as she could muster, for giving her the ability to train with weapons and armor.

He nodded regally. "My sages told me to prepare you for a great adventure in Wildspace to perform a task for Martin Cooper. We should know more soon. Keep up the good work."

That was about as warm and polite as he got. Mary curtsied, then ate dinner, reminding herself to eat slowly and with royal decorum even though her body was demanding that she consume twice as much food as she normally would.

Mary thought about Wildspace all night, her mind spinning with the rumors and stories she had picked up. Space pirates, horrible monsters, grand adventures, incomprehensible magic. A place for the wild and reckless, to be shunned by stable civilized people. And she would be going out there, knowing almost nothing of adventure. Would she make it back alive? Would anyone care if she did not? Did she even care?

The next morning, she went up to the tallest tower of the castle, the steel one with the black-mica runes of protection and the quad-mount anti-ship autoblaster, and looked up into the sky. It was a clear day, so she could see thousands of floating islands. She looked at them with a new perspective. They had never seemed real before. Like the mountains in the distance, or the clouds that also floated in the sky, she had always seen them as background details, flat distant things. Usually she forgot they were even there.

But now she knew that she would soon be going there, and that reminded her that they were real. People could fly to them in fantastic ships, and walk around on them. What would it be like to do that? Would it be like walking through the forests that she loved, with the trees and plants and animals that she knew, or would it be a bizarre alien realm? All she could see was big chunks of rock, sometimes with a haze of greenery on top and spilling over the sides.

What was it like, among the islands in the sky? What would she find there?

Whatever it was, it had to be better than her life here.

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