Prologue I
It is oft said that many stories have a starting place. Slowly, these tales weave themselves, straying from their origins, wherever they may be, crawling in some other direction.
Two seasons before, one such tale begins in the Northlands, where the mountains tower and pierce the clouds, and the ocean waves are fierce and unforgiving. A warrior and a seer – an otter and a fox traversed from a falling sanctuary to a a rising fortress, and spun the wheel of fate with such vigour, that the sanctuary rose and the fortress fell, and the previously unmoving gates are creaked open. The two paid heavily with their valour, and soon they left the world behind through different paths.
Though this tale too begins on the shores of a sea, just like the last; it is seasons and miles away from when and where its origin was told. This tale, our tale begins in a much calmer location, with tranquil seas and peaceful beaches, and a halcyon city amongst sea and sand. This could have been a place for one to rest, away from all worldly troubles. A place far away from the petty grip of politics and machinations.
A pity about the bloodshed.
RAEVSVAKT, LORDSHIP OF MERAHOLMER, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
Raevsvakt was not in turmoil despite the blood. Not yet, anyways.
It was not a full-on battle – there were no more than a hundred beasts on both sides combined, with all casualties limited to one single building. Within the building, two beasts were running up a flight of stairs.
"Are you sure he's up there, vermin?" said the first beast. He was an incredibly tall beast, even for otter standards. Being more heavily armoured than his companion did not stop him from scurrying faster up the stairway.
The weasel next to him simply nodded at the otter, for he was out of breath.
he wasn't really trained in the ways of fitness and athleticism, so normally he would attempt to avoid physical exertion. But a friend in need is always a good driving force, and the fact that the friend in question may soon perish could have pushed him to his full limits, had the circumstances willed it.
The two beasts had just finished clambering onto the last floor when they saw the guards. Four guards standing in front of a single room was definitely a suspicious sign. The otter pointed at the door. "That's the one."
He drew his sword only to be stopped by the weasel. "Please wait, Lord Stalwart. We are outnumbered, and…"
"Then what do you suppose we do?" snapped the lord.
"There are alternatives to carving your way out of problems," the vermin replied. "It would be better for us to pull a page out of Thordan's book. Please wait here, my lord."
The weasel walked forward as if he was in a hurry (which is not strictly untrue), almost crashing into a guard.
"Who goes there, weasel?" bellowed the hareguard. He squinted his eyes, trying to pick out anything suspicious under the vermin's tunic.
"Quick! Do you not hear the sound of battle? Lord Crestworth is in mortal danger! You must hasten to him!" the vermin frantically said.
The guard next to the hare replied, "Lord Canute? In danger? Pah! With the pup in here, not a'lot of beasts can toppl'im now!" He proudly exclaimed as he rapped his spear in front of the door behind him.
"Is the King of Parma one of them?" the weasel asked. "Last time I checked, he was down at the docks and crying for blood."
Ignoring the confused glares of his comrades, the hare was unfazed. "And why should we trust you? You're just some vermin who just ran here, somehow rushed right into the hold that we keep Lord Thordan in, and without anyone to vouch for you?"
"Easy, lads. He's with me." Lord Stalwart decided to show himself. "You should know that Lord Valdemar didn't call me up this blasted staircase just for a practical joke. The otterwhelp's grandfather is indeed here, along with his whole retinue. If anything bad does happen, guess what will happen to you?"
As a remarkably tall otter, Lord Alfyn Stalwart was an intimidating figure, even though the guards have never chanced upon him before. Even the captain looked shaked by the sudden appearance of the otter lord. He pointed to a hedgehog.
"Bertil, guard the lordling. The rest of you, follow me!"
The guards rushed down the stairway, leaving one guard and the duo. Two to one is better odds than two to six, thought Alfyn. But before he could draw his sword, the weasel handed a pouch to the lone guard.
"Here are a few dozen silvers. If you would kindly leave the spear and the keys to this room, and if you don't go blabbering around, you'll end up just a bit richer. I you don't, you'll be down for the count for the whole day, if you would consider yourself lucky. Got it?" the weasel asked.
The hedgehog stared at the weasel's knives, and then at the otter's sword, and then at the staircase. His captain was long gone. He nodded, tossed the spear to Alfyn, scrambled his keys from his belt, and hurtled down the stairway.
"It wasn't that hard, was it?" the weasel said as he fumbled with the keys.
"So the vermin uses trickery and deception to get what he wants. Typical." Alfyn sighed, earning him a cold stare from his target. "Not that I'm complaining, of course."
"I wasn't lying. King Thordan is indeed here." The weasel indignantly said as he opened the door.
The dimly lit room strung a lone figure, blindfolded and tied to a wall. Forgetting their differences for the moment, both woodlander and vermin rushed to aid the recently liberated prisoner. Frayed ropes were no match for steel daggers, and in a few moments Lord Thordan Swalestrom was free.
"Given your history of blind hatred towards vermin, whatever made you two work together must have truly been something," sighed Thordan as he removed his blindfold.
"Thordan, Canute Crestworth has seized your lordship. He allied with-"
"I told you we know that!" spat the weasel.
"How long was I in here, Egil?" Thordan inquired.
"Around three days," the weasel answered, "during which Doman soldiers took control of the Isles because you thought the Crestworths could be trusted!"
"You do not have permission to speak rudely to your betters, vermin!" Alfyn exclaimed.
"Can the two of you calm down for a few minutes?" Thordan snapped. "If the Parman King is indeed in here, it could be a trap for him."
"Agreed."
"Let's get moving."
Satisfied with his friends agreeing for once, Thordan opened the door.
On the other side of the building, two grey-furred squirrels were finding for that same newly liberated otter. One was smaller and thinner, with him being younger by about two seasons. The other was taller, more muscular, and very impatient.
"Are you absolutely sure this is the right place?"
"Shhhhhh. Someone approaches. Hide!" Denebas whispered. Despite being the younger brother, he was born with more caution and calmness than Altayras.
The squirrel brothers scrambled under a few crates full of arrows, then watched as a few guards entered the armory.
"Now listen. While Bertil babysits the lordling up on Northern Tower, we have to prep up for what's to come. King Thordan will never go on any expedition without 'is blinkin' daughter, and that's the one you buckos have to fear! Get better armour and get the blazin' Gates out of here!"
There was a sound by the door, and in rushed a hedgehog guard, who was clearly panicking. Denebas was sure that he heard the clinking of coins coming from the guard's uniform.
"Captain! There's an otter outside! He looks-"
The guard was unable to finish his sentence, as the door was kicked open by an otter, slamming him into a wall. He was wearing light armour, and in his eyes was a wavering glance, which hardened into a glare when they came into contact with the hareguard.
"Who in tarnation are you, bounder?"
The otter never even opened his mouth. Instead, he thought that reaching for his spear would be a more appropriate reaction. He's insane, thought Denebas. One against five would not be good odds, and he clearly isn't going to back down.
It was Altayras, and not the otter, that made the first move. Picking up his spear, he sprang forth from his hiding space and drove its point into the hareguard. Caught unawares, the captain was unable to do anything but watch as the speartip entered and exited him within the span of an instant.
The otter shouted a battlecry incomprehensible to Denebas, then dove into the rest of his shocked foes. Two battle-ready beasts against four panicking guards seemed better odds to Denebas. Make that three to four.
He grabbed the fallen hare's rapier and hastily prepared a stance, just like what he practiced back in Castle Burelas. But the fight was over long before that. Cornered and surprised, the guards simply stood no chance against the two spear-wielders. One of them fell after the otter slammed the spear into his neck, with blood splashing out onto the walls. Panicking, he rest made a break towards the exit, with the otter only able to stab one in the back. The other two sprinted out faster than Deneb could react, no doubt never to oppose them again.
It was at this inopportune moment that the hedgehog finally stirred from his unconsciousness, only to be greeted with the corpses of his dead comrades, the otter that had chased him around the whole shrine, and two squirrels that did not seem friendly in any sense of the word. He tried to bolt away, but lost his balance, falling flat on the ground instead. The otter swiftly flipped him over and pinned him unto the floor, then turned toward the squirrel lords.
"Apologies for the surprise. I am Erlend Swalestrom, Lord of Kaldos and Duke of Thavnair. You must be the brothers from Burelas, are you?"
"We have not met before." Altayras chose to ignore the question by asking one of his own. "How did you know?"
"Oh… King Garmund told me to keep an eye on you boys when he told me he will not be coming. Sending you two here was not really his best idea."
"Well, this is not the first time we struck into a fortified building." Denebas interjected, earning himself a hard glare from his brother. Ignoring the two siblings, Lord Swalestrom's attention returned to the hapless guard.
"Listen. We-" he turned his head to look at Altayras' cold glare, and settled on a slight edit of the pronoun. "I have no intention of hurting you, and I do not have the cause and the folly to do as such."
Bertil stared at the three corpses occupying the room. Two of their expressions were panicked screams, while the captain's look was no less undignified. He settled on defiance. "Funny. You seemed to have a different agenda on mind when you slaughtered half of us."
Erlend rolled his eyes. "Well, that was different. You see, you and your lord betray my son, nearly kill him, then lock him up in the highest tower in all of Meraholmer, then you have the audacity to request justification?"
The guard was clearly intimidated, and soon his next sentence faded into a whimper. The few beasts who knew Lord Erlend knew that he was a patient otter, slow to anger, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
"He's free now, my lord." The hedgehog grovelled. "A tall otter and a weasel forced me away from the tower. It is unguarded and they have the keys."
Denebas knew of the tall otter. House Stalwart may have produced two young, strong (and giant, even for otters) sons, but Lorcan Stalwart was yet residing in Arnet. It had to be Alfyn. But since when did he start to consort with vermin?
"And a weasel?" Altayras must have had similar thoughts. "Did the otter give his name?"
"No!" The guard gulped. "No. The weasel just gave me this before telling me to run." He held up a sack of coins, and the otterlord's eyes lit up.
"How did a vermin get his paws on such an amount of money?" Denebas mused. "Must be quite the thief."
"That is, if you stretch the definition of thievery a bit." Erlend responded.
"What do you mean by that?" asked Altayras.
"Lending large sums of money, and reaping the interests." Erlend clarified. "The marking on the bag says it all. I know the weasel well – I owe his father quite a bit of gold." Due to a number of unforeseen factors, Erlend was the first Swalestrom since his namesake seventy seasons ago to go into debt – a fact that was pointed out by both his elder brother and the squirrelking he had once bowed to. Whether if turning his back on Southsward and aligning with Triel was a good move remains to be seen, but Erlend has not much to lose.
"You honestly thought that borrowing from vermin was a good idea?" Altayras interjected.
"Parman vermin, so he's double untrustworthy." Denebas chimed in.
"Well, the Parman king has got my back in all of this, so he would truly have it coming if he tries anything funny. I didn't marry his daughter for nothing, did I? Gates. I even named my son after him!" Lord Erlend and Lady Lorelei were married for political reasons, but the Parman king's sole daughter was quick to fall in love with her new husband, particularly after her first marriage to a much older beast. It would be a perfect match if one could excuse Erlend's constant infidelity. His brother Becker was a much better husband, and a more attentive father as well.
"If you would excuse us, we do have a lord to save. Let us never meet again." Erlend said with more than a hint of condescension, with the squirrels accompanying him, and the hedgehog still dazed, confused, and being utterly oblivious of what shall result from his multiple mistakes.