Background

Castle silhouette.

It is said that the great castle of Trebizond has ten thousand rooms. Its towers stretch higher than the circling crows and its cellars run so deep into the mountains that some have been surrendered to lightless silence for generations. The ancient stones of Trebizond are thick with moss from its miles of waterways and black with soot from the railways woven through its labyrinthine vastness.

The seventeenth day of the first month of Summer has arrived. On this day his royal majesty Leopold Trapezius, thirteenth of that name, makes known his wishes for the coming year in the form of a scroll brought to the Willow Balcony and read aloud for all to hear. This year, for the fourth year in succession, the scroll is blank and no words are spoken. So it is that rumours are once again whispered amongst the powerful and the humble alike: does the king still rule? Or has his basilisk come for him at last?

The keepers gather their most pious and their most learned and open the Basilisk Archives once again to consult with the ancestors. It is said they beg them for guidance. Should a new king be chosen? If the ancestors respond, their words remain secret.

The ancestral nobility begin to discuss the question of succession. Of course it is for them to select a successor from amongst their ranks. It is their duty.

In due course the clerks of the court send word that there is to be no change. It is acceptable for his royal majesty Leopold Trapezius to speak as many or as few words as he wishes. Whilst we must all one day face our basilisk, his royal majesty Leopold Trapezius XIII still lives, by the grace of the ancestors. All must continue as it has always done.

But all will not continue as it has always done. From the furthest parapets of Trebizond, sharp eyes are always watching. This day they see the smoke of fires, they see banners and they see people coming from the North. From outside the castle.