Uncanny Valley - the Baron & his Butler (03/03/20)

The grey winter landscape is passing them by, as a watery sun sets behind the hills. Henry is slowly trudging along the dirt road back to Daring, ladden high with his heavy backpack. The Baron is perched on the back of a small turnip cart going the same direction that Duke Robinson had arranged to stop at the thorpe for them before leaving the old man.

The Baron looks back, maybe counting the hillcrests in the fading dusk light. The day has left him shaken, scarred. The assured confidence has faltered and he looks his years now. ‘It is amazing’, Henry thinks, ‘what a difference a few peeled back layers make: beneath it all, the Baron is an old, frail, and now slightly confused man.’


"Henry?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Tell me again, what happened back there...?"



Henry sighs. They had set out in the morning for Coldshaw Valley, to answer the call of one Duke Robinson. His valley was subject to some kind of haunting, the missive suggested. They had met up with a number of other interested adventurers, Madame Augustine, Laurel, Anketh, Cadfan, and the talking cat Beranwald Reigendar von Grimburn III who everyone seemed to insist to (somewhat disrespectfully) call 'Greebo', when it clearly was a man of noble birth trapped in a cat's form, but nonetheless deserving of the respect his lineage commands. Henry had been sure to offer Lord Beranwald a cup of milk at tea time - his teachers at the academy had been very clear on the rules of etiquette and respect.

Upon arrival at Coldshaw Valley, the 'Duke' had turned out to be a hamlet elder who believed his neighbors Julia and Robert from across the valley had been behaving slightly odd and urged the adventurers to investigate.
This had proved to be true, as upon further investigation, the family had turned out to have been killed and their memories absorbed by an Oblex that in turn was impersonating them. Madame Augustine and the Baron himself had been briefly subjected to the monstrosity's mind attack, with the Baron still suffering from the effects of the short term memory loss. 'He looks so helpless and confused' Henry thinks to himself, 'because I left him alone. Disregarded my duty. This is my fault.'

"We encountered a monster that had enslaved the local farmers. You, sir, saw through the charade and struck down the beast. The local duke thanked you personally and knelt before you as a sign of his respect and appreciation.” He breathes for a second, not savoring the taste of his guilt. “But you took a blow to the head sir; I apologize, I should have been at your side to shield you.”

“Ah, yes. So it was… Not to worry, you did a grand job. Grand...”


The Baron trails off and keeps on looking into the distance. Henry has swaddled him in a blanket, and sitting there among the turnips, wisps of greying hair waggling forlorn in the breeze, he looks nothing like the great man of his youth that he usually pretends to still be.


“Henry?”

“Yes, sir?”

“...can we go home now?”


Henry swallows. The side effects of the memory loss may still last a few days before ebbing off.

“Certainly sir. There is a hot bath waiting for you at the Ettin. We will be there soon.”

“Good. Good…”


The old man’s eyes take on a bit more clarity.

“Henry?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You are a good man. Thank you. For everything.”

Henry smiles.
“Thank you, sir.”