
                        GOOD FENCES
                        ===========

          A Heroes of Might and Magic II scenario
                    by Andrew Nellis
                      bs904@ncf.ca
                     copyright 1999





[  Hither came Obsepius the Divider, mighty of thew, vast    ]
[  of power; the hero-light danced about his head; the fires ]
[  of Creation blazed incandescent in his eyes.  "Lo I have  ]
[  come to save thy world," said he, and all laid themselves ]
[  prostrate before his holy majesty.

                    -- from the Obsepiad, Canto I

                        *  *  *

"Me gets horse!" said the ogre, hopping from foot to enormous
foot in his glee.

"Pardon me," said Obsepius.  "It's not a horse, it's an ass."

The ogre looked doubtfully at the animal's hindquarters.

Obsepius rolled his eyes.  "Ten thousand brigands in the world
and I have to get robbed by the world's stupidest ogre."

One of the raggedy goblins surrounding Obsepius poked him with
the business end of a crude but very sharp spear.  "Shut mouf."

Obsepius lapsed into silence, frowning.  The band of a dozen or
so goblins and their gigantic ogryn partner had leaped on him as
he rode past their hiding spot in the forest undergrowth.  Before
he knew what was happening, they had knocked him off his mount
and overpowered him.

"What be's?" said the ogre, picking up the satchel Obsepius had
dropped as fell, and shaking it up and down in one hamlike fist.
Lots of things rattled noisily inside, making Obsepius wince.

"Stop that," snapped Obsepius.  "Um, please," he added hastily
as one of the goblins moved to poke him again with a spear. "It's
nothing of any value to you, I assure you.  Just components for
spells."

The ogre's eyes opened wide.  "Magic?  Be's magic-maker?"

Obsepius brushed the dust from his robes with great dignity and
straightened his hat.  "I, sir, am no mere prestidigitator.  I am
a graduate of Zatara's Academy of Backward-Speaking Magicians,
Bachelor of Elemental Wizardry, Thaumaturge-at-Law, and proud
bearer of the Honourary Pointy Hat of Cryptic Prophecy (second
class).  I am also new to your rather quaint plane of reality,
and I can't say that I think much of it from what I've seen so
far."

The ogre stared for a few seconds.  "So, youse ken do magic
stuffs?"

Obsepius threw up his hands.  "Yes.  Yes, I can do magic stuffs,
you great anthropoidal atavism."

"Magic-maker make gold," said the ogre, thrusting the satchel at
Obsepius.

Half a dozen icy steel points pressed into Obsepius's chest and
back, making him go stiff.  "Not try any tricks wiff us," said
one of the goblins.

Obsepius swallowed hard, and nodded.  "No tricks," he muttered,
digging into his satchel and coming up with a handful of stones.
"I'll turn these stones into gold for you, okay?  If I turn these
into gold, you'll let me go, right?"

"Yah, we let you go," agreed the goblin.

"But youse said we'se gonna eat 'im," said the ogre, scratching
his beetle-browed head in puzzlement.

"Shhh," said the goblin.  "G'head, make gold," he prompted.

"Uh, right," said Obsepius.  Glancing around nervously, he tossed
the stones to the ground in front of him and intoned: "Slatnemele
otni nrut senots."

The stones began to shake violently.  In the split second of
distraction for which he was waiting, Obsepius let out a whoop
and dived past the goblins in an utterly undignified belly-flop
toward the cover of the nearby bushes.  No sooner had he landed
than there was a sound reminiscent of popcorn exploding, if the
kernels were the size of elephants.

Where there had been a handful of ordinary-looking stones, there
now stood a horde of very large, very solid earth elementals in
the midst of a pack of surprised goblins.

"So dem guys gonna bring us da gold?" said the ogre.

The fight, if something so one-sided can be called a fight, was
over in seconds.  By the time Obsepius had remounted his ass and
brushed the dirt from his robes, the erstwhile bandits laid
unconscious in an untidy prostrate heap around him.

                        *  *  *

[  ...for his wisdom was plain to see.  "Aye, verily shall   ]
[  I judge thee," spaketh Obsepius the Wise.  And the two    ]
[  kings did plead their case before him, humble before his  ]
[  greatness.  Long and long did they speak.                 ]

  [...]

[  "Know that I have judged," spaketh Obsepius unto them,    ]
[  and his words were a marvel in their ears, for...         ]

                    -- from the Obsepiad, Canto III

                        *  *  *

Obsepius groaned, and stuffed his riding cloak about his head,
but could not entirely block out the shouts rising from the
tavern below.  He wished now that he had purchased a private
room, but he well knew his meagre store of silver would not
stretch far enough.  Soon enough he'd be sleeping rough if he
could not find a patron in this benighted world.

At last, knowing he would get no peace, he rose in a fury from
his palet in the common room and stormed down the rickety stairs
to the tavern under the inn.  Two peasants, both beefy brutes,
their cheeks crimson with fury, stood nose to nose and shouted
into the face of the other.  Inexplicably, a great, fat, reeking
sow scampered loose among the tables, lapping spilled beer from
the floor with relish.

"Tis mine!" roared the first man, beard bristling with rage.

"Not so!" roared the second man, clean-shaven, shaking a fist
under the other's nose.

"Yuir a bandy-legged doong beetle, MacTavish!" bellowed the
bearded man.

"Arr!" howled MacTavish, growing even redder.  "Ye'd best not be
fashin' the likes o' me, O'Reilly!"

"Look," said Obsepius crossly, "some of us are trying to sleep."
       
Both men rounded on the intruder, united suddenly in their fury
at the interruption.  "And just who moight His Terrific Lardship
be," snarled O'Reilly.

Obsepius sighed.  "Oh never mind.  Just tell me what the problem
is and maybe we can clear it up."

"This here sassenach stole Winnifred, 'e did!" shouted MacTavish,
pointing at the pig which was now staggering very slightly as it
devoured the beer-soaked wood chips from the floor.

"Yuir out o' yuir tiny gourd, MacTavish!" thundered O'Reilly.
"Tis my Cybel and ye knoo it!"

Obsepius didn't even ask how the pig had come to be in the tavern
in the first place.  He didn't care.  He listened for the space
of two dozen heartbeats as each man bellowed his incontravertable
proof that the pork in question belong to him and none other.
Then he made his decision.

"Excuse me," said Obsepius.  "It occurs to me that I don't know
who the pig's owner is, nor do I care.  However, since it seems
likely that the two of you will carry on all night unless there
is some kind of decision, I find that the pig belongs to neither
of you.  Now shut up, and get out."

The two brawny peasants looked at each other and nodded.  As one,
they advanced on this loud-mouthed outsider.

Obsepius pointed at a tallow candle guttering low on one of the
nearby tables.  "Snorom owt sesht taeb dna slatnemele otni nrut
emalf," he said.  There was a noisy, crackling WHUMF, and then
the tavern was filled with the glowing forms of fire elementals.

For a few minutes there were loud shouts and screams (and the
occasional ovine squeal), interrupted by painful-sounding thuds.
By the time silence descended and the whooshing of flames was
extinguished, Obsepius had long since returned to bed and fallen
deeply asleep.

                        *  *  *

[  Many were they who came to the Court of Obsepius the      ]
[  Just, to lay their cases before him.  Though the very     ]
[  heavens rang with the sound of his name, never once did   ]
[  he turn away the least of their number.  "All who desire  ]
[  justice in my name may call upon me," spaketh he.  "For   ]
[  I am Obsepius, and I am come to save thee, though thou    ]
[  knowest me not."                                          ]

                    -- From the Obsepiad, Canto VI

                        *  *  *

"All rise," droned Obsepius in a bored voice.  The several
equally bored prisoners and their guards rose slowly and with
much grumbling.

Judge Renpaw doddered in, his snowy white head bouncing on his
pencil neck and causing his wattles to sway.  Even clad in his
black robes of office, there was no disguising the ancient,
hunched gauntness of his frame.  He sank with infinite fatigue
into the high-backed chair reserved for him, exhausted by the
fifteen feet between his office and the courtroom.

Everyone remained standing, waiting for the Judge to tell them
they could be seated.  Judge Renpaw's chin was bent to his narrow
pigeon chest, apparently studying the papers before him.  Snores
began to fill the silence.

Obsepius sighed.  "Judge," he whispered.  "Judge!"  He threw a
stylus at the old man, bouncing it off his head.

"Guilty!" said Renpaw, his head jerking up.  "And let that be a
lesson to you.  Next case."

Everyone sat down.

Obsepius cleared his throat and read the first case on the docket
for this morning.  "The Town of Port Peon versus Tom the Piper's
Son, on the charge of..."

It had been three months since Obsepius had found work as chief
clerk in Judge Renpaw's courtroom.  In actuality, he was also the
only clerk.  Crimes more serious than disorderly conduct or petty
theft generally got transferred to the provincial assizes, so
there was little to do, and even less of interest; with the more
or less constant petty wars that raged across the land, there
simply weren't enough able-bodied people to cause much trouble.
Still, it kept food on his plate and even left a little for
research into a spell to get him the hell out of this dreary,
battle-weary dimension.

The last case of the morning was being tried, and Judge Renpaw
had fallen asleep for the fifth time.  About average, thought
Obsepius, sighing inwardly.  He rustled his papers loudly and
cleared his throat.  The Judge remained slumped over his desk.
When repeated throat-clearings produced no reaction, Obsepius was
forced to stand up and shake the old man gently by one wizened
shoulder.  The Judge slid slowly from the chair and crumpled to
the floor.

Obsepius blinked a few times and looked out at the equally
surprised scattering of faces across the courtroom.  "Erm, Judge
Renpaw seems to be, uh, indisposed," he said.  "He finds the
defendant guilty, the fine is five pieces of copper to be paid
before next week."  The gavel was still clenched in Judge
Renpaw's stiffening fingers, so Obsepius banged the top of the
desk with his hand.  "Court is adjourned."

By the next day Renpaw was in the ground and Obsepius had become
Judge Obsepius.  He did not know it at the time, but he had taken
the first step toward his ultimate destiny and the destiny of
this world in which he was stranded.

                            * * *

[  ...and thus did the people beg of him, "Great Obsepius    ]
[  whose name art spoken in Heaven, take from us the crown   ]
[  and rule us with thy wisdom, that we may know peace and   ]
[  prosperity."                                              ]

                    -- from the Obsepiad, Canto V

                            * * *

Shouts rang out from the antechamber, and there came the sounds
of metal ringing on metal.  Obsepius groaned.  "Not again," he
moaned.  This would make it the second time in as many months,
and the fourth since he had taken over Judge Renpaw's position.

The thick wooden doors of the courtroom slammed open, admitting a
pack of sword-wielding men in hauberks.  Beyond, out in the
antechamber, Obsepius could see the guards lying slain on the
floor.  One of the warriors stepped forward, lifting the mail
coif from his head.

"The outrageous and tyrranical oppression by this court is hereby
ended in the name of the People's Popular Liberation Front," said
the swordsman, his moustachioed face strong and handsome.

Obsepius sighed.  "Is this really necessary?  The foolish and
weak-minded liberality of this court was ended last month by the
Loyalist Defenders of the Sacred Crown, and the month before that we
were officially proclaimed by the Holy Knights of the Order of St.
Noonah to be the tools of the illegal counter-revolutionary military
industrial complex."

"Aha!" shouted the swordsman, clearly the commander of this
military force.  "So you admit to your dealings with those
traitorous heathen dogs!  I see we have come not a moment too
soon to end your vile rule."

Gritting his teeth, Obsepius took a sip of water from the goblet
before him, trying to keep a rein on his temper.  "Look," he
said, "I don't care.  Don't you have a castle to sack, or an
invasion to plan or something?  This is a low court.  You will
note that there are no kings or princes or dukes present.  Take
your revolution and your silly moustache and remove them from my
courtroom before I have them removed for you."

The swordsman bristled.  "You dare to speak thus to your king?"

"Kings we seem to have aplenty!" roared Obsepius.  "Every bandit
with a sword and two lackies has walked through the doors of my
court and proclaimed himself the rightful king!  The land is
lousy with kings!  I can hardly hurl a stone without hitting a
half dozen rightful kings upon the head!"

"Right-o," said the swordsman briskly.  "I see we have a lying
and dangerous criminal agent of the old oppressive regime on our
hands."  He motioned to the soldiers behind him.  "Take him out
and have him hanged."

Obsepius uttered a low growl and flung the contents of his goblet
of water out into the courtroom.  "Talf stoidi eseht dnuop dna
slatnemele otni nrut retaw," he snarled.  There was a damp
squelching sound, like an ocean wave breaking against a huge tub
of gelatin, and suddenly the courtroom swarmed with large and
gently-wobbling water elementals.

The soldiers were armed and they were desperate, but they were no
match for the elementals.  Shortly, the floor of the courtroom
was covered with the broken, battered bodies of dead swordsmen
and awash with water from the few water elementals disrupted by
swordblows.

By the time the elementals had pounded the last victim into a
thin, greasy, steel-plated smear with their feet (elementals are
notoriously literal) Obsepius was beginning to realize what he
had done.  If the gentleman with the moustache (recognizable only
as a discoloured patch of floor in front of the witness stand at
the moment) was to be believed, he had been the king, as much as
such a thing existed and for whatever length of time.  He,
Obsepius, had... er... rather permanently removed this latest
(and late) king from office.

With a feeling of growing panic, Obsepius realized that he was
now the king.

                            *  *  *

[  "Lords of Wind, Colossi of Earth, Wyrms of Fire, thou art  ]
[  summoned in my name," spaketh Obsepius the King.  And lo   ]
[  were they come bearing gifts of great power, and they did  ]
[  offer their obeisance to the King, for they were much in   ]
[  fear of his holy might.                                    ]

[...]

[  All men in all lands paid homage to Obsepius the King of   ]
[  Kings, and the Age of Peace was come upon the face of the  ]
[  world at last.                                             ]

                        -- from the Obsepiad, Canto IX

                            *  *  *

"I would humbly like to direct His Majesty's attention to the
fact that the honourable Ambassador Aethon is a lying sack of
griffon excrement," said the dwarf.

The elven ambassador's eyes narrowed to slits.  "May it please
His Majesty, I should like to advise Representative Flizwid that
his hideous, misshapen head will mount quite nicely in my den,
where it shall no doubt frighten small children."

King Obsepius slumped lower in his throne, resting his aching
eyes behind his hand.  It was like a nightmare that never ended.
No matter that he had not wanted to become a king to begin with;
from the second he had acquired the crown of a tiny, third-rate
kingdom, every religious zealot, would-be rebel, and crook within
a hundred leagues had come seeking his head.  Out of sheer self-
preservation, Obsepius had ended up eliminating all his rivals 
and consolidating his power -- thereby bringing himself to the
attention of every avaricious, land-hungry sovereign possessed of
an army within marching distance.  The more enemies he defeated,
the more kingdoms and enemies he acquired, until, when the last
invader had fallen, Obsepius found himself sole ruler of a vast,
fractious, and utterly pugnacious empire.

The King's eyes glazed over.  The increasingly hostile voices of
the elven and dwarven ambassadors droned on and on while Obsepius
tried to tune them out.  It didn't matter what he said or did.
Every day it was the same story: line-ups of furious nobles and
diplomats demanding ruling after ruling from the hapless King,
shouting accusations and counter-accusations and counter-counter-
accusations until nothing could be discerned save that they all
despised absolutely everyone else -- including the King for
preventing them from launching armies at their hated enemies.

There had to be some way out of this, thought Obsepius.  There
had to be.  "ENOUGH!" he roared, leaping out of his seat.  The
throne room fell into an embarassed silence.  "Enough," he
repeated, much quieter this time.  "I am going for a walk.  If
the two of you wish to kill each other while I'm gone, be good
enough not to get any blood on the carpets."  And with that he
stormed out through his private entrance into his office.

"They're idiots," said Obsepius.  "All of them."

"It is so," agreed Abdi Allahu.  He sat cross-legged, hovering a
full foot off the surface of the divan.  He gestured and a cup of
wine materialized in a sparkle of dust on the King's desk.

"Thanks," said Obsepius, lowering himself into his chair and
taking a cautious sip.  "Excellent vintage," he murmured.

"The King is too kind," said Abdi Allahu, nodding acknowlegement
of the compliment.  Though he appeared to be a handsome, swarthy
man in a turban and fine clothing, the levitating visitor was in
fact a Djinn -- and not just any Djinn, but a Caliph of his kind.
They, along with the Giants and the Dragons, were the only
sentients in the land which remained unconquered, mainly because
they cared little for the affairs of outsiders and because they
were sufficiently powerful that they need not fear assault.
During the negotiations which saw peace imposed throughout the
land, Abdi Allahu and Obsepius had become fast friends.  As far
as the Djinn were concerned (and, Abdi Allahu suspected, the
Giants and Dragons as well) it was all to the good that the
warring nation-states had been forged into a single empire, for
it had ended the irritation of dealing with constant invasions by
lesser powers -- invasions which were without hope of success,
but annoying nonetheless.

Obsepius closed his eyes and remained silent.  The Djinn waited
patiently.  They sat thus for hours sometimes, in the shade of a 
tree in the Tulgey Woods, while the King ordered his thoughts.  
At last the King opened his eyes and sighed.  "I have looked at 
this from every angle.  There is simply no way for me to give up 
my crown.  The empire would shatter within days.  Should that 
happen, I would not wager a bent copper on my survival, no matter 
how fast or far I run."

"Perhaps," said Abdi Allahu, "you ask the wrong questions.  You
humans often take the short view, though you are not to be blamed
for your lives and perspectives are similarly short.  You needn't
convince them not to make war.  You need only make it impossible
for them to do so."

Obsepius snorted.  "And how am I to do that?  Keep them all in
barrels and nail shut the lids?"

Abdu Allahu shrugged.  "I offer suggestions, merely."

But the idea had planted seeds and the King was silent for some
time.  "Good fences make good neighbours," he said slowly,
feeling his way as he spoke.  "This is true.  And there is no
theoretical reason such fences can't be made; it is simply
impractical to do so.  There was a world I once saw where a vast
wall stretching the length of the entire empire was erected...
but it took them centuries, and I would need not one wall, but
dozens, hundreds perhaps."  He paused again, before going on
with his thought.  "But then there is magic."

"There is indeed," said Abdi Allahu, smiling.

Obsepius shook his head.  "Such wizardry is beyond my powers.  I
am an elementalist, not an engineer.  Certainly it would require
hundreds of adepts in any case, and I am not likely to get much
cooperation from the locals."

"What prevents you from founding your own school and producing
your own adepts?" asked Abdi Allahu.

"Why... nothing at all," said Obsepius, with growing excitement,
then stopped, his smile fading.  "But, even granting that a corp
of loyal, well-trained wizards could be created, to focus such
powers on a single vast spell would require magical artifacts
which are surely beyond my ability to create."

"Perhaps beyond yours," said Abdi Allahu, "but surely not beyond
the combined sorceries of the Djinn and the Great Wyrms."

"And how would all of these activities be funded?" said Obsepius
skeptically.  "Though I would cheerfully bankrupt the treasury
for such a thing, I do not think all the empire's gold would be
enough."

"The Giants," said Abdi Allahu, "are said to be quite wealthy...
and not overly gifted with guile.  Those few who have been to
their lands report the very ground to be littered with gold, as
if they were possessed of means to make as much as they wished.
Perhaps they may be convinced to... contribute."

"Why, so they may," said Obsepius.  "So they may..."

                            *  *  *

[ ...and the sky was rent by thunderclaps, and the earth was ]
[ torn assunder, and mountains thrust new peaks at the stars ]
[ like swords, and the seas fell, and the land rose, and the ]
[ forests walked upon wooden feet...                         ]

                        -- from the Obsepiad, Canto XIV

                            *  *  *

"You stupid ass," rasped Obsepius furiously from where he lay,
his limbs twisted into unnatural positions.  "You thundering
lead-footed idiot.  You..." he trailed off with a cough that
brought a bright foam of blood to his lips.

The giant shuffled his feet.  "Be's sorry," he said, clasping
hands the size of carriage wheels anxiously before him.

"I'm dying, aren't I," whispered Obsepius.

Abdi Allahu looked glum.  "I am afraid so, my friend.  But be of
good cheer, for you have done a great thing, and your name shall
live as long as there are men to tell of it."

Obsepius groaned.  It had all gone so perfectly.  He had founded
not one, but four specialized colleges, which had turned out
dozens of highly-trained elemental wizards, the Geomancers, who
had, in turn, performed the Ritual of the Great Sundering which
Obsepius himself had researched and written.  The Dragons and the
Djinn had come through, forging the magical vestments he still
wore which were the focus for the spell.  Only minutes ago, it
had all come to fruition, and the elements had danced to the
music created by Obsepius and his adepts.  Even now, mountain
ranges and impenetrable forests which had not existed the day
before settled slowly into their new arrangement.

But the upheaval of the Great Sundering, which effectively
isolated every town, city, and castle from every other with
barriers of immutable geography, had shaken the entire world as
if picked up and flung down.  Nowhere in the land would there be
a castle left standing, and many lesser buildings had fallen as
well.  Arkayn, chosen to be the capital of the empire mainly
because it was located in its exact centre, was also chosen as
the place where the Great Sundering was to be invoked for the
same reason; it laid in ruins around them, not a single stone
standing upon another.  The giant had fallen in the tumult, as
everyone else had fallen, but no one had expected him to fall
right on top of Obsepius, squashing the unfortunate King like a
bug under his vast weight.

The Giants had insisted on sending a representative, as had the
Great Wyrms, for both had invested vast sums of wealth into this
venture.  Abdi Allahu would have been welcome in any case, but
for this formal occasion he wore his natural shape, a gigantic
blue-skinned humanoid nearly as large as the sheepish Giant
ambassador and the nearby black dragon.  He knelt at the side of
the dying King.

"Sahib," said Abdi Allahu, gently.  "My friend, if it is your
wish, I, your worthless servant shall move even the very stars in
the firmament.  Would you have me slay the clumsy one who has
killed you?  Say but the word and his spirit shall precede yours
to Paradise."

The giant blinked.  "Hey!"

Obsepius sighed.  "No, leave him be," he rasped, then coughed
again.  He closed his eyes and it was some time before he could
build enough strength to speak in a hoarse whisper.  "But bend
close, for I grow weak and there remains a thing yet to be done."

"Your slightest desire shall be as the command of Heaven," said
Abdi Allahu, bending closer to Obsepius until his bulk towered
over the dying monarch like a huge blue tent.

"What is done can also be undone," whispered Obsepius, his voice
nearly gone.  "I give a cryptic prophecy, second class: I see
four kings astride four horses.  One rides a crimson horse, red
as blood, and in his hand he holds a sword.  The second rides a
horse yellow as the sun, and holds a flower of bright flame which
burns but is reborn.  The third rides a horse of royal blue, a
book in one hand and a quill in the other.  The fourth horse is
a putrid green, dead and decayed, and he who sits astride it
clutches a coin tightly in his fist."

Once again Obsepius fell silent, breathing shallowly while he
gathered his remaining reserves of strength.  "These kings will
contend, and there will be a time of chaos, and the earth will be
red with blood.  One and only one shall rise when the chaos is
ended, and he shall be crowned the Emperor Fool and he shall undo
what I have done."

"Never," said Abdi Allahu.  "I swear upon the bones of the dead
that I shall never let this come to pass.  You may rest easy in
Paradise, my friend."

"No, no, no," whispered Obsepius, trying and failing to shake his
head.  "This must come to pass.  I have seen it.  But it must not
happen too soon, for the land needs healing.  The vestments I
wear and the book of the Ritual of Sundering must be hidden and
protected.  You will know the Emperor Fool, because you will be
unable to stop him."  He pondered a second.  "Or perhaps her."

Abdi Allahu nodded sadly.  "It shall be as you say, my friend.
They shall be given only to those whom I trust, and one shall be
buried upon this spot to mark the place of your passing.  May the
fire of Paradise smite this Emperor Fool who is yet unborn."

Obsepius smiled weakly.  "I think the Emperor Fool will enjoy
ruling this mob as little as did I.  Do you recall the place we
often sat and spoke?"

"I do," said Abdi Allahu.  "I treasure those hours as I treasure
my own children."

"Bury me there," whispered King Obsepius the Divider... and died.

