Three

uthor's Note: This tale was told to me during my travels, around a campfire. The time period in which the tale takes place, and the truth behind it, is unknown. So, do not look for facts among its words, only wisdom. If there be any...

Three

Sir Edwin sat by the fire, next to his father, in the lounge of his father's estate in the kingdom of Wayrest. He looked sadly at the fire, as he spoke with his father. Or, listened to his father, rather. There really was no 'speaking' to the man, no chance of holding a conversation. For a few minutes, the old man could talk sensibly. But after that, he went off on some tangent, talking utter nonsense. It had been that way for years now. Sir Edwin knew that the Prince of Madness was slowly taking his father from him.

"In battle, my boy, the stick shall be your greatest weapon." Edwin's father cut into his thoughts with the sudden remark, after talking about his long dead mother for a time.

"Yes father," Edwin said simply to please the old man.

Three months later, Sir Edwin went to battle against a group of bandits who had threatened his estate. His men fought valiantly, Edwin the most zealous among them. With such strength did he fight, that he broke his sword. In desperation, he grabbed a large branch nearby, continuing the fight. He nearly lost his life against the bandit leader, until the man suddenly dropped dead. He learned later from his estate alchemist that the man had suffered from a fatal allergy to maple sap. By sheer luck, Edwin had been fighting the man with a maple tree branch.

The stick shall be your greatest weapon... That's what Edwin's father had said. If not for that maple sap allergy, he would have died against the bandit. How had his father known? Sir Edwin shrugged it off as coincidence.

Three years later, Edwin sat with his father again, discussing his engagement to the daughter of a neighboring lord.

"Pie is poison, my son... unless taken with pudding. Three is your greatest enemy," his father suddenly proclaimed, and Edwin replied simply, "Yes, father."

Three days later, his father died of old age. Three is your enemy.... Could his father have prophesized something, like he had with the maple branch? Or was it the babbling of a man blessed by Sheogorath?

Three weeks later, Edwin married the neighboring lord's daughter, Rebecca. Three months later, she brought him news of her pregnancy; their first child. When he was born, they named him Jacob, after Edwin's father. Jacob was born three days after the anniversary of his grandfather's death. Three years later, Rebecca gave Edwin his second child, a daughter, Jessica. When Jessica was three years old, Rebecca announced yet another pregnancy.

By now, Edwin had forgotten his Father's warning words. How could three be his enemy, when so much joy had come in threes?

Rebecca was in labor, and Edwin sat by the fire. One of the housewives came to him, her cheeks awash in tears. "It's dead, Sire... it's dead." Edwin's heart sank. His third child was never born. It had been a stillbirth.

Three months later, when Rebecca had gotten over her depression from the loss of her child, she sat by the fire with her husband. His face was lined with worry.

"What is the matter, dear?"

He told her of his father's warning; of the pies, the pudding, and the number three.

She sighed and rose from his lap. "Stop worrying. That was the ramblings of an insane old man."

"But he was right about the maple branch. And now... our third child...." Edwin sighed. "Maybe you're right, honey."

In the next three years, Jacob and Jessica grew to be outstanding children, showing great promise as nobles. In the winter months, they played in the snow under the watchful eyes of the servants. Edwin had been growing worried and paranoid again about his father's words, and ordered them to remain under constant watch. However, while the servants were gossiping and discussing their lord's paranoia, Jacob and Jessica slipped away, going to play by the frozen lake. Jacob, at nine years old, and Jessica at six, were still into the daring game. Jacob dared her to walk across the frozen lake.

It was not thick enough, and cracked under the young girl's weight. Jacob called out for help, running to the servants. They tried desperately to get Jessica out. She died of hypothermia at the lake shore.

Edwin had the servants executed and his son severely punished. He was not allowed outside again, and he didn't want to be outside. He never wanted to be near that lake again. To give him something to do, the nine-year-old boy started to practice sword fighting. He showed great promise, and Edwin felt immensely proud. During one practice, Jacob cut himself. Nothing fatal, only a scratch. He cut himself again, later on. Edwin shrugged it off. But when Jacob cut himself a third time in practice, Edwin had him see the best healers he could afford, despite the wound being shallow, and not even very painful. Jacob was not allowed to practice swordsmanship again.

Three months later, Rebecca had had enough of her husband's paranoia. She took Jacob and left for her father's estate, leaving Edwin. He sat by the fire after she left, his father's words ringing in his mind. Three is your enemy....

Three decades after his father's death, Edwin sat at the dining hall table, alone. In the time after his wife's departure, he had slipped deeper and deeper into depression, and had made enemies in his raging tantrums and paranoia episodes. Three servants brought him his meal, and he ate it happily.

Then it was time for dessert. The head chef came to him, informing him of his masterpieces. A delicately made cherry pie, and then, a real treat. An exotic pudding, made with ingredients from across Tamriel. He had a choice of one or the other. His father's words rang in his head.

Pie is poison, my son... unless taken with pudding....

Edwin decided he would try both. They were presented to him, and he ate the pudding first. It was disgusting, utterly horrid, but he finished the cup nonetheless, so as to not offend the head chef, who was the only one who seemed a friend to Edwin now. He then turned to the pie. It was delicious, unlike anything he had ever tasted before, completely cleaning his mouth of the taste of horrid pudding. He finished the piece, and asked for seconds on the pie, and not the pudding.

"I'm not really in a pudding mood tonight, perhaps tomorrow," he told the chef, so as not to offend him. He finished the second piece. Then he ordered a third, it was so delicious. The warning his father gave him was nothing but an echo in his mind.

Three hours later, Edwin was not in his study, which worried the servants. One of them went to his room to check on him.

They found the poor lord dead in his bed. The alchemist determined it was poisoning. A simple poison, used by what must have been a novice assassin. After examining all the food of the meal, the pie was discovered to be the poisoned item. And, the alchemist discovered that the exotic pudding had certain ingredients within it that acted as a natural antidote to the simplistic poison, if taken in a dosage equal to the poison amount.

If only Edwin had eaten three puddings.