I do not own Paw Patrol. I only own the characters I create. Please review, so I know if I am doing ok or if I should step up my efforts.
Chapter 1
Marshal tossed and turned in his sleep. He felt sweaty and uncomfortably hot. His dreams made no sense, a cascade of colors and voices. His mind was boggled.
He shot up from his bed, but he wasn't in his dog house. His bed was a soft, down filled mattress covered in satin sheets and crimson pillows. His sheets were darkened from the profuse amount of sweat that was dripping from his body.
He looked around his new environment. The room was decorated with dimly lit candles and several vases of beautifully molded clay and a finely decorated tile floor. A bookshelf with thick books with titles written in a strange language adorned the left wall, a language tracker had shown him a while back. He had called it Turkish or something.. Strangely, he could read it. One of them was finer than the rest. It said Quran on the spine.
He leapt down from the bed and stumbled, feeling somewhat lightheaded. He leaned on the need for support and looked at the oak door that lead out of the room. Dim lights shined through the cracked opening like sunshine, and while the rest of the room was dark, with hewn stone walls, a stained glass window was on the wall opposite to the doorway.
He heard hurried footsteps from the hall, fleet and light. Marshal turned to the door just as it was pushed open. A young boy, no older than eight, stumbled through. He wore loose, green and teal robes and teal pants. He wore old, ripped sandals and his hair was cut short.
The boy was gasping for breath. "Thank Allah, your here! Your father! H- he wishes for your presence in his room. There isn't much time!"
Marshal was about to argue. It couldn't have been true. His father had died while fighting a fire upstate only a few weeks after he was born. His mother had died from cholera a few weeks later. His parents were gone.
Marshal was about to argue, but the boy spoke up again. "please excuse my rudeness, but your father is on his deathbed! He doesn't have much time!"
This caught Marshals attention. Even with the absurdity of the situation, if someone was about to die, he had to try and help. He simply nodded, and the boy raced out of the dark room, Marshal in pursuit. Servants and guards dodged and swerved around them, many carrying food and drink, others produce and supplies. Some called out his name, Marshal, while others yelled at the boy in anger.
After a few sharp turns through the crowded corridors and misdirections, they made it to another wing of bedrooms, many of which had closed and locked doors. One was open, with the same dim lights from Marshal's room. It smelled of incense and oils, and other tantalizing scents. The boy rapidly knocked on the door, and a buff man stepped through, with tan skin and a bald head and thick stubble.
The stout man seemed to notice Marshal's presence. "It is an honour, young Prince. I am Ikiz Remzi, and this is my apprentice, Yilma. I am the Medicus of Edirne. Ikiz must have noticed Marshal's surprised expression, because he chuckled. "Yes, I know what you are thinking. A burly man like me, a medicus. I can tell you that story later. For now, your father wishes to speak his final words to you. Alone, before he surely passes."
"Do you think he'll make it?", questioned marshal. He half hoped that his 'father' would survive, because whatever realistic dream this was, he could use some guidance.
Ikiz shook his head. "I doubt it. Go, you must speak with your father."
Marshal hung his head. The medicus opened the door and Marshal stepped through, only to see a disturbing sight. An old Dalmatian, no older than forty, was strewn haphazardly across the large, satin coated bed. A large arrow protruded from his chest, an a green crust was built around the entry point. He was in the middle of a coughing fit as marshal entered.
What really spooked marshal, was that he actually looked like his father, the one that raised him as a pup. His eyes were the same chocolate brown color, no matter if they were coated with crust and bloodshot. He a pained smile in his face. He even looked at the ceiling the way his father would when he was nervous or thinking, which this dog could have been doing either.
His father seemed to notice him, as he beckoned him closer. "Come, my son. There isn't much time." His voice was raspy.
"You wished to see me?" Said Marshal.
His father gave him a smile, before he descended into another coughing fit. When he calmed down, he looked into Marshal's eyes with the same pained expression. "Well, that old fool, Hunyadi… I guess he was right about one thing. My life would end, just not at Varna." He coughed more. "At least the Polish king, Wladyslaw, that bastard, is dead. He was a menace. But no doubt Ladislaus of Austria will benefit…" His words trailed off as he lost focus and stared up at the ceiling. He seemed almost ashamed, as if he had failed, but he hid it under a well crafted smile.
He looked at Marshal again, his tone serious. "We all must die. I know you are young, but you will make a fine ruler. I will pass, but not before I hand my greatest gift onto you. The clergy will crown you tomorrow, in my… absence." He seemed disturbed by it, having the clergy, whoever they were, control the state. "You must continue on this journey without me. We both know Osman did not toil for us in vain." He turned his head to the other side of the bed, and Marshal swore he heard his father whisper 'I hope'.
His father relaxed under the satin sheets and closed his eyes. "Now, let me sleep. My time will come, but until then, I have much to think about."
His father's raspy, labored breath and the occasional ruckus of the growing wind where the only noises in the room. He just stood there, frozen in shock. He didn't know what to think, what to do, what to say, if he should have even done anything. It smelled of sickness and sorrow now, the exotic spices gone.
Someone knocked on the door. It was Ikiz. He covered his face with a clean rag and entered the room. "I'm sorry, my prince, But we must leave before the sickness takes you as well. The last thing we need would be for you to end up sicker than you are.
Marshal looked up at Ikiz and nodded glumly. He gave his father one last look, before he would be buried.
0 0 0
Marshal awoke to the sound of thunder. It wasn't to loud, just the occasional soft rumble, but he hated it less. Something about seeing his father die in front of him made him less… childish. It was a horrible feeling.
He sat up and looked around, studying the room some more, the things he hadn't noticed before. The walls were a plain white color. The ceiling was flat and the same color as the walls. The floor was a smooth tile, cool and crisp, like walking in the rain.
Maybe out of irony, the thunder shook the sky again, like it was reminding him it was raining. It reminded him that he had work to do. He got out of bed and the first thing he felt was the cold. It nipped him like a needle. He noticed he wasn't dressed in anything besides a necklace of silver beads and a silver ornament shaped like a crescent moon with a gleaming star in the center.
The realization hit him like a bullet. That symbol, Alex's grandfather had shown it to him before. It was the symbol of Islam. He didn't know much about the religion except for the fact that the people who followed that faith didn't care for christians to much, a faith that his family had followed by the book… literally. He began to silently panic. If they found out he was catholic, they would flip, not to mention that the Clergy were crowning him today!
He started to take deep breaths, calming himself down. It wouldn't help him if he panicked. Pacing back and forth, Marshal pondered on what to do.
He could pretend to be Islamic, but that was very risky. The Clergy would surely find out, and he would be killed. He could also confess his problems to someone who could help him curb the Clergy, but the more he thought about that, the more unsure about it he felt. He had no connections, no allies. He had just became king, or whatever they called it, Padishah? He had to focus on how he could solve the problem now.
He looked at the holy book on the wall and a horrible thought hit him.
What if he became Islamic?
To him it seemed like a stretch, but what choice did he have? He pulled the book off the shelf and stared at it. It was finely decorated and made of paper and soft leather. Marshal opened the holy book and look at the beginning page, the one that was meant to be empty. Surprisingly, it had writing on it.
Wash yourself before you pray, Marshal. To not would be a sin. Put yourself into a state of physical and mental purity, so your soul may be pure as well.
Sincerely, The Beholder.
He looked at the page in shock, almost dropping the book on the cold floor. Somebody here was breaking the fourth wall. He looked at the page again, and the writing was gone.
He was about to ponder his next move when a soft knock on his door.
"Who is it?"
"It is me, Ikiz. May we talk? I need to see if you are well, and there is a guest here for you."
"Come in.", Marshal croaked.
Ikiz opened the door. He was dressed similarly, except he wore a hat to protect from the rain. He also seemed at peace, more than yesterday at least.
"Your father… he passed last night.", he said, "The people from the surrounding provinces as far as Ankara came to weep for him and pray to Allah at our only mosque. His body has been buried in the courtyard, if you wish to see his grave."
Marshal nodded quietly. Ikiz nodded in response, almost nervously. He left with the door open, and was speaking to someone outside of the door.
Ikiz came into the room again. "We must go soon. You are to be crowned padishah today at noon."
"Of course", Marshal remarked, "my worst nightmare."
Ikiz chuckled. "Is it the thought of ruling an empire, or is it that you don't think you are fit to rule?
Marshal sighed, "both."
"You were chosen by Allah to rule, you were given the place of your father and his father before that. You were given the place of Osman, the place of Padishah. Allah has faith in you, and so do I."
"I thank you for support. I can see hard times ahead", Said Marshal, "besides, I have a crowning soon. There is no compromise."
The medicus bowed his head in respect. "You will make a good leader."
Marshal looked out the east window. "I hope."
Izik nodded. "The servants have run you a bath in the West wing. Breakfast is in the grand hall."
Marshal nodded and then looked back at the window. He remembered what was written in the book.
Bathe before you pray. Stay in a state of mental and physical purity.
He thought about it, and then left his room for the baths.
He had to much to do and not enough time.
0 0 0
Chase didn't know what to think.
He woke up in a very comfortable bed. It was early morning, he could tell. The air smelled of rain. Then he noticed a window next to his bed was open.
The room was simple but roomy, with a few pieces of furniture here and there, and two candles lit on the nightstand to the left of his bed.
He got out of bed. The floor was hard oak. The door was the same. The entire room had to much space.
A knock on the door sounded. He looked at the door as the same knocks sounded again and again. Then it ceased. He checked outside the door. The occasional guard walked by, but it was strange. They were dressed with strong chainmail and helmets with nose guards. They had the colors red and white dyed into their uniforms.
He walked back into the room and say back on the bed. He didn't know where he was but he knew it wasn't home. He had to find a way out.
Before he could devise a plan, more knocking came from the door. A gruff voice sounded from the other side. "Come on, Archduke Chase, the Coronation is today. We have much to do.
Chase was even more clueless. He got up and opened the door. A guard, better dressed than the others, was there. He wore a badge in his right shoulder and had a sword instead of a spear and shield like the other guards.
"You take forever. I cannot believe Bishop Francisco assigned me to babysit you. We should be out there, fighting those Turkish infidels!"
Another voice came from down the hall, more suave and younger. "With both Wladyslaw and Ladislaus dead, it would be suicide. The Balkans are already in chaos. Hungary is already trying to fend off peasant turned rebels in Belgrade. They could approach Wein any day now."
"Quiet, Alfonzo. You may be the right hand man of Francisco, but you don't know war like I do. Those Turks will take Belgrade in the coming years if no action is taken."
The two seemed to forget that Chase was there. He coughed mockingly and looked at the Guard captain with displeasure. The captain looked at Chase again and then the young Bishop in training.
"This isn't over.", The Guard captain spat.
The young Bishop rolled his eyes and left. Leaving chance and the Guard captain alone.
"Freshen up. You will be crowned in an hour."
And with that he left.
Chase looked down the hall. The guard captain pushed his way through the servants and slaves working in the baths and the personal rooms of the local nobility. The place smelled of beeswax and burning wood
He kindly asked one of the servants where the bath house was. Apparently, it was outdoors, near the Spanish gardens. as he walked out, the guards, both Spanish and Austrian, greeted him kindly.
When he exited the main castle, he smelled the mix of morning dew and fresh honeysuckle. The rich aroma of a roasting boar in the distance mixed with it to make him relax. He saw the bath house, a rectangular building with a tiled roof and steam emitted from the open windows. The entire garden was well kept, rose bushes lined across the walls, rich orchids hung high in bundles, and a clear pond sat in the center of the garden itself. The entire estate was criss-crossed with cobblestone paths.
He gaped at the simplistic beauty of the garden. The grass was well kept, and so were the flowers and the walls. He looked back at the bathhouse, eager to see what was inside.
As he opened the door, he saw the steam bath in the center of the floor, a good 12 by 7 feet. It was stone, but the whole bathhouse was still well kept. It had several woolen towels and two bottles of chilled wine in a bucket of ice.
He eased himself into the bathroom and, the warm water soaking his fur. He just sat there with nothing to do.
After a few minutes, he began to think of the absurdity of the situation. He was in some random place, seemingly in medieval times, and Considered some sort of ruler.
Maybe it was all a dream. He hoped it was.
He apparently was being crowned soon. He didn't know why or how. But apparently he was important here. Chase didn't want to be.
Chase, although a police officer, didn't like to be an Authority figure when he didn't have to. He would rather be part of the community than a looming eye, watching and waiting for problems to arise. It drove him insane when things went sour.
He definitely did not want to be a ruler. It scared the wits out of him, more than needles. He would rather participate than lead.
Someone poked their head into the bathroom
A young man, About twenty years old. He had a thick goatee and short hair. He wore a guards uniform, More ornate than the average guard, but less decorated than the guard captain.
"My Lord, the guard captain requests you in the balcony. The there, you will be crowned. I am here to escort you there.
Chase sighed and stepped out of the bath. A servant handed him his royal robes and he stepped out of the bathhouse.
It was going to be a long day.
0 0 0
Chase was nervous beyond belief.
He did not want to be crowned. He did not want to be king. He did not want to rule.
Yet he was about to.
He could hear the noise of the large crowd beyond the doors. They were waiting for him. Waiting for him to be crowned.
He did not want to be here.
At least the two guards escorting him gave him support.
One was the guard from before, the one who escorted him from the bathhouse. The other was younger, a regular guard, with the standard armour and a sword.
"Do not worry, my Lord. You will be fine. The 't going to throw tomatoes at you."
Chase chuckled and looked at the doors. He could hear trumpets now. The crowning was about to start.
The doors opened and he stepped through. The crowd cheered and several figures were standing on the balcony, finely dressed barons, bishops and foreign dignitaries, and one man that stood out from the rest.
The pope.
He wore the Pope's crown, his holy robes and other fine trinkets. By his side were the bishops Francisco and Alfonzo, as well as several other important religious figures.
The pope greeted him with a warm smile. "It is good to finally meet you, my young prince. I hope you know why we are here."
"To crown me king of Austria?", croaked Chase.
"Not just Austria. You have inherited several territories from the crusades, as you are the only one able to govern them. You have inherited both Bohemia and Hungary."
Chase almost fainted. More territory to control.
But the Pope wasn't finished.
"The Electors are here to choose the Holy Roman Emperor. The Candidates are here, as well as the Electors. If they choose you, you will rule Germany."
This was bad.
He was not prepared to rule such a massive territory. He was just a pup. He didn't even know how vast Austria was, not to mention Hungary and Bohemia. Now he could have Germany in his hands as well.
The Electors and Candidates stepped onto the balcony, bowing to the Lord of the keep and the soon to be king of Austria, Chase. They then stepped in front of the Pope, bowing respectfully to him as well.
The leader of the electors, a knightly man, tall and proud, the epitome of a warrior, stepped forward. "Your holiness, the Electors have come to an agreement. The Holy Roman Emperor has been chosen, in all his grace and glory!"
The Pope nodded his head solemnly. "You may proceed, Ludwig."
The Candidates shuffled their feet nervously. Some more than others.
The electors all stepped forward.
The first one stepped forward, a plump man in fine robes. "I, Olbert of the Palatinate, choose Chase, Rightful heir to the throne of Austria, as the
Emperor."
The second stepped forward, a short but rough man with a thick beard. He wore a simple mail under cloth cover with his coat of arms. "I, Andreas of Frankfurt, choose Chase, Rightful heir of the throne of Austria, as the Emperor."
Several more stepped forward, rich rulers of Germany pledging their loyalty to him. In the end, the vote was decided. Everyone unanimously voted for Chase.
"Thank you, all of you", said the Pope, "you are all dismissed. The journey back will be long and arduous, I assure you."
The electors bowed. The lead electors stepped forward. "Thank you, your holiness."
Then they left, leaving Chase with the Pope, the cheering crowd, and the Candidates, all giving him stony glares.
The pope turned his gaze to the crowd. "The emperor has been chosen!" The crowd howled in delight, waving their arms and shouting 'long live the king'
Then the Pope turned to the candidate. "You all are dismissed. Go home to your keeps. There is much to do."
The Candidates all left, leaving Him and the Pope.
The Pope gave him a small smile. "You should go and join the feast. They are waiting for you. At least try to impress the nobility."
And the Pope left through the doors behind him, and leaving Chase alone with his thoughts.
Jeez
I know I may not be the best writer, but this is just a little idea I had bobbing in my head for a while, and after some refinement, I was just dying to get it down on paper.
Please do review. It tells me what you guys want and what direction I take this. I have some plans that I have in place, and those will be part of the story that will not change, but character deaths and betrayals, thoughts, and ideas are welcome. Also, should Marshal become a Muslim? I never thought I would be asking this question to anyone, Lol. Leave your thoughts down below.
CM out.