5

Ætharr knew that this was going to be a bad scene.

But it had to be done. His sons must embark on a series of lessons that kept them isolated in the wilderness. They would learn how to survive in the wild, to fight like the devil, and to carry their weapons for days and days on end. It was rigorous, and they would have to be tough to endure.

He remembered his own. His father had watched impassively as he had wept and screamed. His mother had died already, and his father had eventually turned his back on his son so that he would not see the tears. Ætharr hat hated him for it afterwards for days. His terror at being alone had fuelled into a hatred of his father, and he had sworn that he would show his father that he could overcome this. He had done so, and his father had been so emotional at their reunion that Ætharr could not help but forgive his father and be reconciled to him. It had taught him the essence of being alone and surviving, after all. He could not begrudge that for long.

His sons would be like this too, surely. How could they hate him for doing something in their best interests? It was for their own good.

But when his sons returned home with joy dripping off their whiskers as they embraced their sister and mother, he couldn't do it. It would hurt them far too much. He didn't want to hurt them too much if it could be helped. He'd give them two weeks before sending them off. It would take two weeks to pick up the rest anyway: let them be picked up first and then the sons of Ætharr last.

So it was that the children of the Ealdor were seen playing together in Æthelly, along with other children living there. Rosheen was at her happiest as she watched them play, and Ætharr felt time ticking as he tried to enjoy the time with his sons.

He truly loved them. Anyone who saw Ætharr with his four children knew that by the look on his face, and also by his behaviour: he was a fine father, people would say, and a good example of responsibility for Calador.

But if his family life was going well, his life as Ealdor was less so. Viggo, the old and intelligent cripple who was theign over the southern lands of Calador, was causing trouble with his open scorn for the upstart ruler, as he called him. Ætharr knew that Viggo was far too clever to be outright treacherous, but he would continue to place a surveillance on the weasel. Not just the cripple, but Vogel as well. Vogel had been one of the weasels that had stayed loyal to Ætharr from the start and as a result was made theign of the eastern lands along with Jinn, and another old companion named Burg. However, Vogel was turning to drink in his incessant boredom. He knew he had fallen from favour, but it had warped his mind to hate and resent the other theigns.

Aside from these two, the theigns were loyal. Ætharr had filled the ranks with his friends and most loyal followers, such as Jinn (who also managed an agency that extended to almost all the other tribes), Horal, Ptolemy, Judos, Agricola, Burg, and Gyras. The others (Cynefrid, Ulric, and Craterus) were also honourable creatures that would follow their lord.

Meanwhile, Ætharr had two special soldiers hiding out in secret. One of them was the ever-loyal, indestructible Lanvor, the other was the raccoon Ben. These two were part of a plan that Ætharr was laying down to defeat the dangerous Loptrio and Alcax tribes for good. He would drive them out as he had the Millar tribe, and take their lands. It would leave him the most powerful ruler among the tribes by far. This, coupled with the alliance Calador was in with Falcarragh, Hunan, Jeri, and Vireo, would make Calador untouchable. He would have succeeded in ending the strife between the tribes once and for all.

And then? He was not yet sure. He knew that he could move beyond the lands of the vermin. Perhaps Salamandastron? Or Southsward? The Kala tribe could be driven off or annexed, and then he could lead his army across the vermin lands. It was a bold plan, and the idea of becoming so powerful, coupled with a longing for war, was filling him with a dreadful lust to carry it out. But patience was the key: all in good time for now. Ben and Lanvor would be told what to do and there would be no trouble.

Meanwhile, the time was coming up for Ætharr's sons to go off. Rosheen could sense the time fading away too, and she started to look miserable. Ætharr wondered if she would forgive him, dreading the thought of losing her. He loved her deeply, as deeply as when she had fought with him at the seige of Brocovar. He could not bear losing her now that she and he had produced a family together.

However, she said nothing to him. She had accepted that it was necessary. It was the fact of being the daughter of a great ruler: she saw what was necessary, even if it made her sad. Ætharr would try to comfort her, but he knew she would be content when it was over, and her sons returned.

Judos came by just before the day came. He too had been plagued with the thought of the day approaching, and had come to spend time with his adopted nephews one last time. They had some difficulty at first, having just left his classes, but Judos was so able to shrug off his teacher's mantle that they grew comfortable around him. Ædelmær, however, would still hold long conversations with Judos about what he had learned. Often he would bring his father into the conversation, as though it amazed him to have his two role models sitting together discussing the topics that so fascinated him.

Ætharr recognized his son's eagerness, and was touched by it. However, he could not always sit down with Judos and Ædelmær, for he was busy playing with his other children as well. Lorcan loved to wrestle or play sword-fight, as did Ædron. Nuala wanted mostly to play with her dolls and occasionally, when she was with her brothers, she would participate in slinging rocks. Rosheen had taught her the ability to sling rocks to keep her mind off of her missing brothers, so she was easily the best shot of the children.

Ætharr thought to himself once, and would have laughed about it at another time, if he and Rosheen continued on the tradition of teaching her weapons while she was left alone without her brothers, then she could become more skilled than any boy in Æthelly.

While he would have found it amusing in another time, he was merely filled with a sadness that seemed to be resistant to being shaken off.

Judos noticed it too. Ætharr seemed to be weighed down by his conscience, or his fatherly attitude. Whatever it was, the otter knew that in a way, he was lucky not to be a parent in Calador.

One day, Judos approached Ætharr, "You're bothered by this too much to go through with it, Ætharr."

Ætharr automatically shook his head, "No. I can't deny my sons this lesson. It is essential that they learn these skills."

Judos stared at his friend, "But Ætharr, you can't do this to your sons? It will kill them!"

Ætharr glared resentfully at the otter, "Did you have to say it like that?"

Judos paused, and saw how hurt Ætharr truly was beneath his appearance. He was worried that they would not make it through the training, and he was also concerned for their well-being.

The otter sighed, "It's tearing you up, isn't it?"

Ætharr shrugged, "My father went through it. His father, and his father before that, they all went through with it. As will I."

Judos shook his head, "They'll never forgive you for it." He was talking about Ætharr's sons. To be torn apart from their family and home on their father's orders. It was unthinkable to a child's mind.

Ætharr shrugged, "I forgave my father for it."

Anger filled Judos up and Ætharr's simple, foolish arguments in the face of this problem. It was so unlike Ætharr to speak this way, and the stubbornnes of the weasel was maddening. The otter tried not to shout as he spoke back, "You are not your father, Ætharr! They are not you! You can't just stick with tradition like this! You've flouted tradition ever since you met me! What makes this tradition any different?"

Ætharr swelled with his own righteous anger, "You forget your place, Judos! You are here because I welcomed you here and fought against those who said you should be sent away! I don't deserve this outburst from you!"

"You welcomed me here? Maybe you did, and maybe I was foolish enough to accept this place as home, but don't you dare try to use that to make me guilty. If it wasn't for me you'd never have gotten out of Klinus' prison!"

"Would you have done any better alone?" Ætharr retorted, "You weren't doing any better on your own! What gives you the right to speak to me like this?"

"I'll tell you what gives me the right!' Judos snarled, 'The right of being a fellow free-thinking animal! You think you're a god? You think you can't make mistakes? You think Calador doesn't have faults?!"

Ætharr roared in anger, and for a moment Judos wondered if the weasel would strike Judos. But the weasel held his temper and instead snarled in a choked voice, "An ealdor is not a god! But he must make decisions for a country! He is a leader! A leader must do what he feels is the right thing, and nothing else! He must consider the plight of his people and decide what must be done! If he is successful, then that is that! He has succeeded, and his people are safe! That is why we have tradition, Judos! Have you never lived under a tradition before?!"

Judos too felt that accusation his a tender spot, and he roared back to outshine Ætharr's anger, "Yes I did! And I hated every fucking minute of it! Aside from a few creatures, I do not miss a single one of those bastards at Redwall!"

Ætharr's face suddenly went pale, and a look of embarrassment went over his face. Judos realized that he was no longer looking at the otter.

Turning around, Judos saw three heavily built weasels standing with a sentry at the door. Judos wondered how long they'd been standing there. This was a very dangerous moment for Ætharr: if he had been heard raging in this fashion concerning the tradition, then either he would lose face, Judos would be considered even more of an outsider and a traitor, or both events would happen. All the anger Judos felt towards Ætharr suddenly evaporate as he worried for his friend.

However, the guard seemed innocent of the affair, "Sire? There's someone here to see you. Is it a bad time?"

Ætharr studied the tone of the voice, deemed it oblivious of what was said, and answered, "Yes. Would you mind if they waited outside for the moment?"

The four weasels bowed and went out again.

Ætharr turned back to Judos, "A very wise person once wrote that it is much safer to be feared than to be loved when one of the two must be lacking. Even if my sons hate me, I will have succeeded in what has to be done." He spoke in a firm finality, and he left Judos in the hall as he left. Judos heard him greet the trainers who had come to take his sons away. A bitterness filled Judos for what was to come, and he closed his eyes.

Soon, he heard screams that could only belong to children. With a heavy heart, Judos turned to stand with Ætharr. He could resent this all he wanted, but he would not let it destroy his loyalty to Ætharr.

The three trainers were being assisted by some guards as they took three struggling youths towards the gateway. All three were struggling in some way, and all three stared at the group of people who stood on a slope.

Judos joined Ætharr, Rosheen, Nuala, and a few others that watched as Ædron, Lorcan, and Ædelmær were being taken away for the training. Nuala was in tears, pleading with her mother to stop what was happening, but Rosheen merely sobbed.

Another voice was calling to Rosheen. It was Ædron, wailing at the top of his pre-pubescent voice to be let go. He screamed as two weasels, gently but firmly, tried to lead him towards the gate. Lorcan was struggling hard, but he was no match for the large adult weasels. Eventually he turned away from his parents, refusing to look at them, trying to hide the emotion from witnesses.

Judos wanted to weep as he watched them being taken away. Then he saw Ædelmær, and tears began to roll down his cheeks.

The third son of Ætharr was trying to escape, but the guards held him back easily. Ashamed of his weakness in breaking their grip, and devastated by this event, Ædelmær called out in a voice that was alike to a wrongly convicted criminal being dragged to the gallows, "Father! Father! Father, please don't let them take me!"

Judos turned to look at Ætharr. The Ealdor looked like he had in the darkest moments of the war against Oorlog. His face was wrenched in pain and frustration, with tears flowing down his face.

Ædelmær realized that his father had meant it when he had told him that this was necessary to be done in order to make him a true Calador weasel. His father would not save him now, and he could rely only on himself. He ceased to struggle, but he was also not cooperating with his captors. He allowed himself to be dragged off, staring back at the group of people who could stop this and did not.

It was Ædelmær's eyes that chilled Judos. They were filled with pure horror at what was to come, and also the horror at the betrayal that this seemed to be. He would understand, Judos pleaded with himself, but it still cut him to see that face of one so admiring of him. Would he blame Judos? Or his parents?

A movement caught Judos' eye, and he saw Ætharr turn away, unable to endure this torture of watching his sons dragged away. He knew it was the right thing to do, yet it did him little good.

Judos sighed. Now all they could do was wait and see if the sons succeeded in this training. If they could get through this, Judos thought, then he hoped to all hope that they did not hate their father for it. Although Judos disagreed with Ætharr on this, he could never wish that fate upon him. He knew Ætharr would have hoped for the same thing if the shoe were on the other foot.