A/N: Well now! Been a while since I worked on this project, huh? I've been working on it kind of secretly ever since I managed to get my data recovered from the hard drive of my dead laptop. I've truly missed working on this story and on the concepts I'm developing for the history of this ancestor of Lion-O's. Admittedly, this may not be some of my writing at its best, but I'm a bit rusty in the Thundercats fandom when it comes to writing my fanfictions, so I hope that's forgivable.
Chapter 1: Capture!
"Your Highness? Your Highness? PRINCE RITHLIO!"
"Hmm?" The young lion prince fell backwards slowly, bending his knees over the crook in the branch, swinging back and forth in midair high above the pool of water below, the world turning upside-down. "Yes, Tundra?"
Far below, standing at the edge of the amphitheater floor before the pool, the familiar face of the young cleric glared up at him. "I don't suppose it bears saying that this is, by far, one of your most dangerous ideas yet!" The snow leopard shouted up to the treetop, cupping his hands around his mouth. Rithlio swung back and forth a few times before he decided to answer, feeling a little light-headed.
"Nothing terribly dangerous about climbing a tree, Tundra." He called back down, swinging his upper body until he was seated upright upon the branch once more. It was hardly the sort of thrill he was wanting, but it was the closest he could get to adventure, cooped up in the walls of Thundera as he was.
"No, Rithlio, this is a really bad idea!"
He let out a small chuckle, getting to his feet and leaping to a lower branch on the bell tree, landing in a crouch.
"You're an old nanny, Tundra!" He called to the snow leopard, rolling his eyes with a grin, "Cubs climb trees all the time! I don't see you lecturing them!"
The cleric merely fixed him with a withering look as he continued to make his way down the sides of the bell tree's branches. A small twinge of guilt knotted the prince's belly and he carefully avoided Tundra's eyes. It was unfair of him to tease the way he had, especially since he knew full well why it was that he was getting such a lecture. After all, the snow leopard was recently made the youngest of the clerics at nineteen winters of age, and had been saddled with the task of tending to the princely line. A task that Rithlio made far from easy.
"Sorry, my friend." The prince said in a lower tone as he reached the base of the bell trees roots, shinnying around the trunk until he found the shallows where he could wade to the solid floor. "I was just—"
"Bored, I know," Tundra finished with an unimpressed sniff as his dark blue eyes tracked the prince's progress. His fingers drummed a small rhythm on the wooden staff he carried, a rhythm the prince had grown quite familiar with. His friend was somewhat agitated and worried certainly, but he was far from angry with him. Rithlio shot him a crooked grin as he leapt onto the amphitheater floor with a splash.
"Aren't you going to give me an ear-ragging about my recklessness?"
"Hardly." Tundra responded, arching an eyebrow. "I'm just going to report back to Jaga later, and he'll give you an ear-ragging."
The prince's grin melted into a pout. "Tattletale."
"You won't listen otherwise." The corners of the cleric's mouth twitched in that certain way indicating he was trying hard not to smirk in his triumph. Rithlio rolled his eyes, giving his friend a half-hearted shove, and strode on past him, some of the exhilaration that had marked his climbing on the bell tree fading from him. His feet padded softly against the cool floor as he took one of the narrow tunnels that led from the amphitheater back toward the training yard of the palace, and the sound echoed like tiny, numerous brushes painting on a canvas. Tundra was at his side in moments, concern on his snowy face.
"What troubles you, my prince?"
"I...itch, Tundra. I can't sit still! There's nothing to do in Thundera!" He growled in exasperation, running his fingers through his mane, which was starting to grow long, snarled and wild. "Why don't Father and Mother ever let me out of the city?"
"Your Highness could be harmed on a venture outside. You're not ready yet." The cleric responded in a bored monotone as he looked away, reciting the words by rote. The prince let out a pouting snarl in response, crossing his arms.
"That's what everyone always says!" He protested. "If I'm not ready yet, then when will I be? Sometimes I think Mother wishes me to remain cooped up in the palace my entire life! I'm not a cub any more, Tundra, and neither are you! We should be out there, adventuring on the long roads and meeting new people, finding lost treasure and ruins, seeing the world and learning things you can't learn from reading!"
"Perhaps it's that sort of hot-blooded thinking that has Your Highness's royal parents keeping you here, my friend." The older cat responded thoughtfully, offering up a helpless shrug. "I'm not going to be able to change anyone's mind any more than you are."
"I'm the prince!" Rithlio snapped, "I have to change someone's mind!"
"Perhaps it is not someone's mind you have to change. Merely offer them an alternate perception." Another voice chimed in.
Both of them jumped, stopping dead in their tracks, and spun on the spot to look into deep blue eyes, bright with silent laughter as Jaga chuckled at them. Tundra masked his relief as best as he was able, not wishing to disappoint his teacher, but the prince had no such reservations and let his posture sag as he exhaled loudly.
"Jaga! You're going to be the death of us both!" He groaned, much to the older cleric's amusement.
"Hardly, I think." He responded, his pale, neatly-trimmed beard twitching as he smiled. "After all, I hold no ill will toward either of you. Otherwise, you wouldn't have stood a chance. But now that I've caught up with you, it's time you come along, my prince."
"Come along?" Rithlio asked, arching a crimson eyebrow. "Why?"
"The ceremony for your rite of passage is today." Jaga said brightly, a mischievous expression spreading over his face. "Don't tell me you've forgotten."
Rithlio opened his mouth to respond, then stammered, choking on the words and feeling his face turn hot. He had forgotten about the ceremony, and the worst part was, he couldn't tell Jaga he had been trying to do just that all week. What would the head cleric think if Rithlio told him he wanted to avoid being near his father? He lingered a bit too long in his response, and Jaga ushered him along the path, urging him toward the palace, Tundra trotting along self-importantly. The young lion considered the circumstances as they walked, wondering whether or not he should voice his concerns to the clerics. It wasn't necessarily that Rithlio's father frightened him, but lately the prince was realizing he disagreed more and more with the king on nearly everything. Rithlio had wisely kept his differing opinions to himself rather than risking conflict with his father, but every time he saw the king, the concerns rose more prominently in his mind.
Perhaps Jaga knows some way I can talk to my father, He mused, Some way I can express that I dislike his laws or policies and opinions, but without causing conflict.
"Is there something on your mind, Prince Rithlio?" Jaga spoke up, his timing impeccable.
"No! Well...yes," he admitted, cheeks turning pink, "A-actually...Jaga, I was wondering if I could ask you about something?"
The cleric laid a firm, strong hand on his shoulder, offering him a smile. "After the ceremony, Your Highness." He replied. "You need to head to the throne room and await the clerics. After all, I came out here to find you, so I must hasten to rejoin the others."
"Do you need me with you, master?" Tundra asked.
"You are fine to stay with the prince," Jaga answered, "We will have plenty of clerics for what we need to accomplish."
And before either of the younger cats could say a word, he took off in an incredible burst of speed, kicking up clouds of dust behind him.
"You really need to learn that trick, Tundra!" Rithlio remarked before letting out a loud sneeze, the dust tickling his nose. "Huh, he was rather vague with that last statement, wasn't he?"
"He's always like that." The snow leopard said, giving a nonchalant shrug. The two quickened their pace, passing through the tunnel to the training yard before darting inside the palace and following the cool corridors to the colder inner throne room. Rithlio let out a shudder as they entered while Tundra relaxed about his shoulders, at ease with the lower temperatures. The king was engaged in a rather intense discussion with one of the palace guards, but his gaze snapped onto them as they approached the raised dais on which the three thrones sat, his bright blue eyes glittering.
"Aha!" King Leoneth boomed, his voice echoing loudly off the walls. "There's my elusive son! I could have guessed you were somewhere with Tundra! You're lucky you aren't late!"
"Yes, Father." Rithlio mumbled, ducking his head.
Leoneth drew himself up from his throne, descending the dais with a broad smile as he approached them, the forgotten guard taking the opportunity to vanish down a side hall. The king was a towering, muscular lion, who had well earned his veritable reputation as a fierce warrior many times over in battle against hundreds of foes, and he loomed over the two younger cats with an air of majesty and strength.
It's almost stifling. Rithlio thought privately.
Somewhere in the city, a bell sounded, tolling three resounding chimes. Almost as if on cue, there were footsteps in the outer hall, approaching the throne room.
"This is it," King Leoneth murmured to his son eagerly, "This is to be one of the greatest days in your entire life, my son."
"Yes, Father." Rithlio repeated, not meeting his father's eyes. He was certain he was about to get a lecture for his unusual silence when Jaga entered the throne room ahead of the other clerics, coming to stand before the three of them. He set the end of his staff to the floor, blue eyes passing carefully over King Leoneth before settling on the young prince.
"Your Majesties." He said quietly. "If you are ready, we shall begin this sacred rite of passage for Prince Rithlio."
Rithlio nearly jumped, but bit his lower lip. Jaga had referred to both he and his father as "Your Majesty," instead of differentiating between their statuses. Such a thing was unheard of! Thankfully, however, the king did not seem to notice, and nodded for the head cleric to continue as planned.
"Clerics," Jaga boomed in a voice that carried and reverberated in the throne room, "Guardians of the Crown, bring forth the Sword of Omens!"
A crowd of veiled clerics marched forward solemnly, the foremost among their number bearing the legendary weapon laid across his palms, covered by a thin cloth.
"Though one day you will wear the crown of your station, Prince Rithlio, only the Sword of Omens will be able to tell us if there is a king within you." Jaga murmured, pulling the cloth free to reveal the beautiful, gleaming sword with the red stone set in the center of its crossguard. "Take the sword, and become one with it."
Inhaling deeply to steady himself, Rithlio reached out, grasping the hilt of the Sword of Omens and raising it into the air, swinging it into a high arc above his head, the metal winking off the blade just faintly in the dim light. Taking slow, deliberate steps, the lion prince strode to the center of the circular emblem in the throne room floor, lowering the point of the blade at an angle. Crimson energy suddenly sparked and crackled like lightning from the Eye of Thundera, dancing and arcing off the sword and around the young prince. He heard Tundra exclaim at the sight, but the words were lost on him in the cyclonic presence of the sword and its power. The room outside the emblem blurred and faded at the edges of his vision, spinning as though on a great wheel, and he brought the Sword of Omens up, lifting the Eye of Thundera level with his face.
"Here goes nothing..." he whispered to himself, shutting his eyes slowly before snapping them back open, ready for almost anything.
The world drew back from him, shrouded in darkness, and the Eye of Thundera spun at a breakneck pace, swirls of color rising in the black void.
He and Tundra were somewhere together, their hands bound by thick ropes, surrounded by wooden masts and billowing, tattered sails. The scene spun for a second, and he was seated at a table with an animal the likes of which he'd never seen before, their hands moving rapidly over a set of dice. The scene spun again, and he was donning a magnificent blue cloak with a brilliant smile on his face, as Tundra tilted a diadem of matching color in his hands with a look of deep concentration. The scene spun. He was fighting a group of different animals, moving with the practiced grace of a dancer, the Sword of Omens glittering and flashing as it spun, less a weapon and more an extension of himself. The scene spun again. He was conversing with an unfamiliar group of cats, and they looked nothing less than agitated with him. Tundra suddenly slipped in, said a few words, and they seemed to relax on the whole. The scene spun one final time...
A new face filled his vision. Another animal, with a face as elegant and beautiful as that of any cat. His eyes glowed a soft white, and large, ribbed ears that twitched and trembled almost nonstop rose up from his hair. He was shrouded in dark garments, and what appeared to be a cloak lined with rippling folds made of bone rustled behind him. The darkness behind him suddenly lit up with more pairs of his white eyes before his face swallowed Rithlio's vision. Without warning, the animal's eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth, revealing a long pair of fangs before he unleashed a terrible sound, a scream so high and loud it threatened to deafen the young prince…
Rithlio dropped the Sword of Omens with a resounding clang on the floor, his hands flying up to his ears to block out that horrible sound as he doubled over, crouching in pain.
"Your Highness!" Tundra cried, rushing to his side. "Rithlio, are you alright?"
"What is going on?" Leoneth demanded angrily, his footfalls shaking the floor as he stomped over. Rithlio let out a weak groan of protest; he didn't want his father making things worse. He doubted anyone would realize this or if they had even heard him, but his rescue came immediately in the form of Jaga.
"The prince has had a vision." He said, his voice carrying through the throne room, loud enough for all to hear, despite how softly he spoke. Silence and stillness fell on all of them. Rithlio shook his head a few times as he struggled to get to his feet, trying to rid his pounding head of the creature's scream.
"A vision?" Leoneth murmured, "Is it true? What did you see?"
Rithlio blinked a few times, trying to work his mouth, but his mouth had gone rather dry and his tongue was suddenly thick and heavy. A reassuring hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he glanced at Tundra, who was looking at him, concern etched over his snowy features. Rithlio hugged his arms, shivering and trying to rub some warmth back into them.
"Other animals..." he murmured softly. He refused to glance at his father, but he didn't need to; he could sense the king's expression darkening, his muscles tightening in tense anger. Immediately he wished he hadn't said anything at all. He may as well have asked his father to start a debate with him that he had no hope of winning.
"My king?" Jaga spoke up again, and Rithlio chanced a look over, relieved to see the head cleric had stolen his father's attention. "This is a most unwise moment in which to begin an argument with the prince about the protocols concerning other animals."
"What, because of the ceremony?" Leoneth demanded, "Jaga, now is—"
"Around the same time that the Lady Faradei should be arriving with her parents, Lord Pumarris and Lady Liona." The cleric interrupted smoothly, and chills ran down Prince Rithlio's spine as he filled with dread.
"Oh no..." He croaked. "Faradei?"
"Honestly, Rithlio!" King Leoneth snorted, tossing him a withering look. "She's your betrothed, not a monster!"
"Yet another thing we disagree on." Rithlio muttered, just loud enough only Tundra could hear him. Almost as if she could sense his talking about her, at that very moment, Faradei came charging into the throne room, looking positively furious with her auburn red mane flying behind her like an angry halo.
"Rithlio!" Her voice was nearing a roar as always, and those present struggled to both leap out of her way and bow respectfully at the same time. "Your rite of passage to becoming a king is today, and you didn't tell me? You neglected to say a word, and don't you dare write this off as your poor memory acting up and that it slipped your mind!"
The lion prince exchanged a hurried glance with his snow leopard cleric, before attempting to grin sheepishly at his betrothed.
"Yes, ah, Faradei," He coughed, trying to clear his throat, "About that, you see...Tundra and I were - just - about - tooo RUN!"
He screamed the last word and seized Tundra by the arm as he broke into a charge, scooping up the Sword of Omens as he moved, and darting down one of the side halls. The cleric let out a yelp and made a wild swipe with his free arm in the king's direction as they moved, and predictably, the lovely and enraged young lioness was right behind them.
"RITHLIO! YOU CAN'T AVOID ME FOREVER! I AM TO BE YOUR WIFE, SPIRITS TAKE YOU!"
"FORGIVE ME FOR TRYING!" He shouted back to her, pushing his legs to move as fast as he was able to, and giving Tundra's arm a sharp jerk, willing him to match his pace.
Einon was rarely seen outside of the royal forge of Thundera, and indeed, it was largely assumed by many that the young lynx simply lived there. A journeyman blacksmith, Einon loved the forge and his craft and fellow craftsman perhaps more than anything in his entire life. Many young girls among the cats of Thundera were especially fond of speaking to Einon, due to his quiet, gentle demeanor and polite respect he offered to everyone, but it was generally assumed the blacksmith would never take an interest in any girl at all.
Of course, such assumptions were wrong; Einon just never saw fit to correct them.
He was in the process of cooling metal he had been shaping for the head of a glaive, when a furious wave of rage stalked within site of the smithy's open doors. He glanced up, half-expecting to see one of the younger apprentices in a black mood, but to his utter surprise, the figure was a young lioness. The Lady Faradei, no less! She looked fit to strangle someone with her silk shoulder mantle, and her mane of red hair was flying wildly behind her. She nearly passed by the blacksmith's forge, but then paused and stared in through the open doorway, amber eyes flashing. Einon halted in what he was doing altogether, looking up and inclining his head respectfully.
"You there! Blacksmith!" Lady Faradei snapped. "Have you seen Prince Rithlio?"
His cheeks burned, partially a blush, partially a mark of shame, and he shook his head. Faradei let out an angry huff, swelling with indignation, and swept away and out of sight. Einon exhaled raggedly, then glanced over to a dark corner where several leather saddles were stacked, awaiting adornment.
"You can come out now, Your Highness," he murmured gently, "The coast is clear."
Rithlio's head poked over the rise of the saddles, and a second later he emerged from his hiding spot, dragging a sour-faced Tundra with him.
"That was a close one! Thanks for the save, Einon." The prince sighed.
"Please don't mention it, Your Highness," the blacksmith mumbled, looking somewhat put out, "I don't like having to lie to royalty. 'Tis a shame to how my mother raised me."
"We forgive you and apologize for the inconvenience," Tundra reassured him, patting the shorter, muscular cat on the shoulder and shooting the prince a flat glare.
"Yeah, sorry about that, Einon." Rithlio added, smiling sheepishly. "Didn't mean to upset you or anything. But really, thanks. You saved my life there."
"Lady Faradei surely isn't that terrible, Your Highness." Einon said, looking up at him with an expression of polite confusion.
"Ugh, you don't know her!" Rithlio groaned, leaning back against one of the beams in the forge and crossing his arms. "Every time she shows up and I have to speak with her, it's nothing but nagging, nagging, nagging day and night! She's hardly anything I would expect a fiancée to be; she's more like an overbearing grandmother or something."
"I would imagine it's difficult for her to be anything otherwise!" Tundra snapped, "Considering how childish you tend to act around her."
"Details, details." Rithlio yawned.
"Your Highness," Einon spoke up, his eyes darting down to the Sword of Omens, which had returned to the length of a small dagger, thrust in his belt, "Is that…?"
Rithlio followed his gaze, chuckled and pulled the sword free of his belt. "Yeah. Here, have a look." He said, handing the sword over to the blacksmith, who took it gingerly in his hands and gazed at it with a rapt expression of awe. As Einon looked it over and examined it with a close eye, the young cleric turned to his prince and regarded him with a worried frown.
"Rithlio," he said in a low, careful tone, "What exactly did you see when you held the Sword of Omens?"
Einon looked up at this, caramel eyes widening in interest. Rithlio looked between the two of them, glanced over to the open smithy doorway, and chewed his lip apprehensively. After a moment, he leaned in closer to the two of them, resting his hands on the edges of a shaping table, blue eyes clouded darkly.
"This stays between the three of us." He said in a whisper, and Einon's eyes widened further. "Yes, you too, my friend. Both of you; I trust you completely. I saw Tundra and I in several different places, speaking with different cats, and different animals entirely. There was dice, ropes… and a cape and a crown of some sort."
"They sound like symbols." The cleric whispered, furrowing his brow. "But what have they to do with us speaking with other people, other animals?"
The prince shook his head. "No idea."
"Perhaps you're going to embark on diplomatic missions." Einon suggested quietly. "I do believe you've mentioned before that you would like to meet and speak with people outside of Thundera, Your Highness."
"I still do." Rithlio assured them both, but his expression only grew darker, "But I don't think that this starts out as a diplomatic mission, even if it becomes that later. I think something happens, something bad."
Silence fell between the three of them. Then…
"There's more to the vision, isn't there?" Tundra said knowingly. "What else?"
Rithlio averted his eyes, his mind still swimming with the image of the strange creatures that he had seen last in the vision the sword had shown him. They were beautiful in an alien sort of way, but they were also terrifying and sent chills through the young prince the like of which he had never known before. He tried to avoid shivering in front of the cleric and the blacksmith; it was one thing to be called childish, but it was something else entirely for a prince to be considered cowardly.
"I'm not sure what they were, Tundra. But the end of the vision… It unsettled me. They had to be animals of some sort, but I have no idea what sort of animals they could have been. They were as beautiful as cats. But there was something…dark about them." He answered. "They looked somewhat gaunt, and they wore cloaks with bones stitched into the folds."
The cleric's eyes widened sharply and Einon's fur on his shoulders rose slightly.
"They sound like fiends!" The blacksmith murmured.
"Perhaps, but we must reserve judgment for now." The snow leopard interjected softly, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "After all, we don't know anything about these creatures apart from what you've seen in your vision and told us."
Rithlio nodded, but he kept his eyes down, thoughts spinning. Creatures like those he had seen…surely they had the power to go to war with Thundera, a nation of animals like that? But he had never seen anything like them before, even in the scrolls of the clerisy that he had sometimes looked at. He doubted that if Tundra could have seen the vision that he would have been able to identify them. Still, something in his gut told him that those creatures had probably never seen Thundera, let alone possibly encountered many cats.
"Your Highness?"
He jerked his head up, startled out of his musings for the time being, and stared. Einon was holding out the Sword of Omens, which he had put into a simple dagger sheath.
"My apologies," the lynx said with a good-natured smile and arching of his eyebrows, "I know that the Sword of Omens belongs with its claw gauntlet, but I hate seeing the finest blade in Third Earth simply going naked. Consider it a gift."
"Thanks, Einon!" The prince said, straightening up at once, his eyes twinkling. "I suppose I ought to know better than to just bring a sword in here without showing any sort of respect for caring for it. Really, you're a great craftsman, you know."
The young blacksmith leaned back, chuckling as he folded his powerful arms.
"You honor me, Your Highness. Now shouldn't you two be getting somewhere? I can't imagine the prince of the Thundercats and the most promising of the clerics want to hang around a blistering hot forge all day." He said, smiling at his two unusual friends.
"Yes," Tundra said in a pointed sort of way, "We should be heading out to find Lady Faradei. Shouldn't we, Rithlio?"
"You can find her," the prince answered evasively, taking several fast strides to the open doorway, "I want to walk around the city."
He heard the snow leopard give a snort, as if to say to the lynx 'see what I have to put up with every day?' but a moment later, Tundra followed him out of the smithy, keeping right on his heels as always. Rithlio didn't glance back at him, not right away. He was too excited about the prospect of the city being open to him, and his eyes were taking in the sights of the lower city in the distance, close to the city gates.
"What do you think, Tundra? Do you think adventure awaits us?"
"I think that you're obsessed and looking at your vision as an opportunity rather than a potential warning."
"If you had seen what I had seen, you would want to put it out of your mind for the time being too." Rithlio argued, tossing the cleric an irritated look as they took to strolling down one of the streets, kicking up small clouds of dirt in their passing. "Look, it's a nice day out, and we managed to escape the boring fate of listening to my fiancée drone on and on. Why don't we just enjoy seeing the city for a while?"
Tundra answered with an ill-tempered snort, but he said nothing further and let the prince to lead the way through the city, taking in the sights Rithlio was so rarely allowed to see.
The two wandered for a couple of hours, though at times Rithlio would spot Faradei storming about somewhere and lead his friend on a wild run through the streets in order to avoid his formidable betrothed. It wasn't perhaps the greatest way to spend an afternoon, but the prince found it fun regardless, and he quite enjoyed the chance to get out of the palace and stretch his legs in the rest of the city of Thundera. They were just narrowly avoiding Faradei for what seemed like the hundredth time, when they were suddenly spotted.
"Your Highness!" Someone shouted. He tensed for a second, then, remembering Faradei would never address him formally except at certain events, he relaxed. They had sat down to catch their breath, leaning against one of the city's high walls, and Tundra nudged him. He wanted to snap at the cleric that it was unnecessary, that he had heard the voice calling him, but he didn't have the breath for it. He simply turned his head, blinded for a second by the fading afternoon sunlight winking off a full suit of armor.
"Yes?" He said tentatively, raising an arm to shield his eyes from the worst of the glare as the guard approached them.
"Your Highness, please come with me. You too, cleric." The guard panted. "I need your help."
The two exchanged a glance, and there was a hard look about the snow leopard's face that warned against the whole thing, but Rithlio got to his feet roughly, dusting himself off.
"What's the matter, guardsman?" He asked.
"There are dogs outside the gate, sir."
His head jerked up, and his eyes widened. Had he heard right?
"Did you say dogs?" He asked, stunned.
"Yes, Your Highness," the guard nodded, his helmet rattling about his ears, "And they have come to trade with us. I need a royal official in order open any negotiation with them."
Excitement blossomed in the young lion prince's chest, and he looked down at the cleric, grinning broadly. Tundra shook his head slowly, his eyes hard and his gaze never leaving Rithlio's face as he mouthed, "No."
"Then please, lead the way!" Rithlio said to the guard, puffing out his chest importantly. The guard smiled at him, revealing two saber-teeth, and he motioned for them to follow, taking off at a trot, his armor clanking gently. The prince followed at a quick stride, and after a moment, he heard the cleric get to his feet with a curse and run after them.
"Normally we wouldn't allow this you know," the saber-tooth guard said as he led them to the city gates, "Your father, the king, hates trading with outsiders, and he barely allows the goats and nomadic cats to stop by to trade with us. Envoys from any of the dog cities have never shown up at our gates to trade before. This is most unprecedented."
"But surely if what they have to trade is good, we should give them the chance, shouldn't we?" Rithlio asked, truly puzzled and wishing more than ever that he would never have to speak with his father on the matter. He knew it was impossible of course, especially if he was about to sanction a trade with foreign animals in the next few minutes. King Leoneth would be furious, and then they would really wind up in an argument about the king's fear of other animal races.
But still, Rithlio had the chance to do some good here by his people and by others. And he wasn't about to pass that chance up, no matter what his friend tried to tell him.
They arrived at the gates, which loomed impressively dozens of feet above them, and the guard insisted they needed to follow him up to the battlements, that they could see the dogs better, from a safe distance.
"What does that say about us?" The prince asked, refusing to budge.
"Your Highness?" The guard said tentatively.
"Open the gate." Rithlio ordered him, his eyes fixed upon the giant structure separating him from the outside world. "I want to speak to these traders face-to-face, as equals."
The guard paled, but rushed to make sure that the rest of the cats guarding the gates complied, setting them to work on opening one of the huge doors. This time, the cleric grabbed him by the shoulder and Rithlio turned to look at him, surprised to find his friend looking so agitated.
"Rithlio, I don't think this is a good idea." He murmured. "I've got the chills, for some reason."
"Please, spare me predictions of doom, Tundra. If you and I are going to be diplomats for all of Thundera, we're going to have to start somewhere, you know. Why not here?"
If the cleric had a retort, it was lost in the rolling peal of thunder that was the city gate slowly creaking open. The guards only opened the door a few feet, but it was enough for the young cats to squeeze through and see who they were going to be dealing with.
It was the size of the dogs that stunned the prince.
He had heard stories told of giants, of towering ogres that looked like small mountains. If he had to hazard a guess, he was willing to bet that the blood of such creatures ran through the dog lines. The shortest of their number was easily two feet taller than the prince, and he was taller than a great many cats!
But then Tundra nudged him, and the prince noticed something unusual. The dogs were outfitted with weapons, well-armed and looking ragged and confrontational.
They look more like bandits than traders. He thought.
The two of them must have caught the dogs off-guard, for the taller animals stared at them in open surprise for a moment. But a second later, the dogs sneered, and too late Rithlio's senses warned him of danger.
"Run!" Tundra hissed in his ear.
But he wouldn't run. He was a prince, and it was not his instinct. He could not show cowardice.
He hesitated, and that was his mistake.
One of the dogs swung at him, and he tried to jump back. He managed to avoid the blow, and reached to draw the Sword of Omens from the dagger sheath Einon had given him, but one of the other dogs slipped behind him and in that moment, he struck. Strong arms wrapped around the prince's chest and squeezed him in a vice grip, threatening to crush his ribs. He struggled, wriggling wildly to escape his captor.
"TUNDRA!" He roared for the cleric, but sounds of more struggling reached his ears, and he realized his close friend was also in danger.
A fist cracked against his jaw, and before he fully recovered from the blow, a rough-hewn sack was thrown over his head and shut tight. The prince roared in outrage and struggled harder than ever as he heard the cries of the guards as they tried to rush to his aid, but then a second blow connected sharply with his head and everything faded.
