Blood for Blood
VERNOLL, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
When Bodvar saw the two squirrels, he knew that he was getting into more trouble than what was expected.
For one, he had tried to crush the lanky one's head with a mace, so he knew that something serious was heading towards him. He had only learnt of the squirrel's identity hours after his defeat - he had almost killed a (rather high ranking) noble, and the consequences can be much more severe than killing commoners.
He only had his paws bound - if Bodvar had laid a paw on the muscular squirrel, the results would have been much, much worse for the otter. While Denebas was a naive, bright boy, new to the world of battle, Altayras Burelas took to war like a fish to a stream. Borellers were warriors, he knew, and submitting to Triel voluntarily took no toll on their spirits.
He had succeeded in taking exactly no enemy lives - a toll not befitting for a captain of the Otterguard, and he has lost Lord Bedric in the chaos of fighting. At least he knew that General Ralos has escaped successfully with most of the beasts under him - not doubt remaining a thorn in the tail for the Trielians.
His brother was with him, so Bodvar assumed that he is now safe. I wonder how Birger is doing. Better than me, I suppose.
He did much better the last time he had went to war. The beasts from Greymorg were close to killing him a few times, though his comrades were able to drag him back from the grave, and he was able to repay the favour a few times. Of course, facing a few vermin was one thing, but facing a disciplined army of woodlanders was another. The ability to keep and create cohesion was a critical factor in open battle, and the Trielians were masters of this craft.
The two squirrels were of course trying to get him to reveal any secrets about future Southard operations, but judging by the lack of any instruments of torture nearby, the Borellers were clearly not intending to do any lasting damage to him. Then what on earth will they try to do to my mind?
The burly squirrel spoke first. "I am Duke Altayras Burelas of Triel. I will be in charge of the extract of information from you. You're a Captain, right?"
"So what if I am? I can't tell you anything. Not because I am not allowed to, but well… I simply have no idea. I haven't seen my superiors since the battle." That, at least, was completely true.
The younger brother quickly tugged his brother's arm and whispered in his ear. An agonising minute passed before Altayras opened his mouth once more. "Very well. We here will ask four questions. After you have responded to two of our questions, you get to ask one of your own. Do not attempt to deceive us - we have ways to tell truth from lie. Is that clear?"
Bodvar quickly nodded as the younger squirrel asked his first question. During his training as a soldier, Bodvar was told to only give his name and rank - nothing more. But Borellers are sticklers for honour, and if I can convince them to trade information… never mind that they get four questions and he only two.
"What is your name?"
Bodvar expected the first question. In his training days, the first question an enemy would ask was always about his personal identity.
"Bodvar Waycaster. Captain Bodvar Waycaster."
Without giving any reaction to Bodvar's answer, the elder brother asked his own question. "What do you expect we will do to you?"
This was a hard question indeed. Bodvar stuttered a bit before he managed to blurt out a coherent sentence. "I think that you would like to torture me for information, obtain information that may or may not be true, and proceed to torture me for fun."
Denebas looked confusingly at his brother, who returned the exact glare. "It is your turn to ask now," the younger gray-furred squirrel said.
"What happened to Lord Bedric?" he blurted out. Drat! I shouldn't have wasted one of my questions like that so easily! They would tell me this later to break my spirit - or something similar to that.
"Oh…" Lord Altayras seemed to be more than slightly embarrassed. Ashamed, even.
"Some idiot soldier who was lazing behind the battlefield got him with a spear." Denebas piped while his brother glared at him. Then he asked another question.
"What…" Denebas smiled as Bodvar's ears tensed up, clearly anticipating some question that would pry vital information.
"What is your favourite colour?"
"B-Blue. Oh wait. Green! Green!"
All of a sudden, Altayras grabbed Bodvar by the neck and hoisted him into the air, eyes burning with rage. "SO IS IT BLUE OR GREEN?"
"Green! Green!" Bodvar screamed.
Denebas giggled while his brother's snout showed the beginnings of a phantasmic smile. This is not going well for me. I wonder what Birger would say.
"Final question!" Denebas openly grinned. Oh no.
"Whatisthecapitalofparmabeforetheskywardsbecamekings?" Denebas rushed.
"What?"
"Denebas! You spoke too dear guest cannot hear you."\
"Sorry." Denebas spoke again, much slower this time. "What is the capital of Parma before the Skywards became kings?"
"I don't know that!" Bodvar replied. If you ask me about history of foreign countries, do not expect me to provide a good answer!
"Hmm…" Altayras then said, with an almost downright evil grin on his face. "If you cannot answer this question, you don't get to ask your own. Farewell."
"Then what's the point of all this? You don't expect me to know all of this, do you?"
"I expected Lord Bedric to." The elder squirrel clamly answered. "You hesitated before listing out your colour, so you are not a beast given to your own opinions. However, you don't know the answer of the third question, so you are not that well educated - concluding that you are not close with Lord Bedric. Grilling you for more questions will be an exercise in futility. Consider yourslef on probation."
Denebas chimed in once more. "For now, at least. And pray that we will not return!" Smiling devilishly, he turned and made his way towards another of many prisoners.
Bodvar stared at them with his mouth agape as they exited the tent.
MACOLT, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
Garrion woke up underground. Well, that was what seemed like.
Catapults may not hit a thousand pawsteps by a two hundred pound projectile, but they can do a lot of damage. As if falling for such a distance was not enough, he was buried under a pile of rubble as tall as a shrew (which was much more menacing when you are buried underneath it).
He was inspecting one of the towers when the rock hit. As his father expected, the fort was almost immediately besieged by Somerled of Deilart, the Lord who called himself a king. Ridiculed as a pretender by the whole of Southsward, Garrion had to agree that 'King Somerled' was the Trielians' sick idea of a joke.
After their first parley session went up in smoke (almost literally, Garrion would like to add), the False King was not in any way inclined to pull any punches.
His brother Bedric charged blindly into battle and perished as a result, a fifth of Floret has been burned to the ground, and he was trapped underneath what he was supposed to protect.
There was a sound coming from above, caused by the scraping of metal and rock. Garrion could do nothing as the noise became louder and louder yet. His eyelids clenched shut, and he braced for an impact with a Trielian soldier awaiting a trouvaille.
That impact never came. When light finally seeped into his eyes, two tall and muscular otters were staring at him.
"Sir! Captain Evran! We've found 'im!"
More and more beasts converged, all wearing crimson Otterguard uniforms, pulling away rock and stone. Before long, Garrion was being carried away on a stretcher. An armpaw and a footpaw were broken, but his internal organs were mostly unharmed - certainly a miracle that there were no signs of bleeding, external or internal.
Yet another miracle was that Deilart had been forced back by a surprise attack by some Swordbeasts, returning from Ralos' ill-fated southward strike. Of course, Lord Somerled will be licking his wounds and making another attempt at an assault, but his chances have been soundly reduced, and he would have to retreat to preserve the integrity of his whole army sooner or later.
Fort Macolt was the penultimate gateway to Floret, with Fort Riddian being the last line before the very capital was breached. Floret had only been taken by trickery, stealth and voluntary submission before - and never by force or storm.
Besieging Macolt was a good idea, and both Garrion and his father expected that to happen. Lord Becker Swalestrom always warned his sons of underestimating their opponents, and warned Garrion that 'Somerled is no fool'.
Assaulting Macolt, however, was not a scheme as bright as the former. Lord Somerled may be no fool, but he somehow is edging himself towards becoming one. Perhaps he believed that the fort would be under-garrisoned, or that the only way to break Floret's lines of communications was to take the stronghold fast. Of course, a more logical explanation would be that the squirrel lord acted upon his impulses once more.
He shouted to one of his bodyguards. "Do you remember who the two that saved me were?"
He heard a few turning of pages, then a response from some inaccessible place.
"Ah, yes! Otters, both of them were. Galen Snowpath and Dirk Tillwaters. They join'd the Otterguard from the bounty huntin' business, and are now currently in the field."
"Carry me to them now. I wish to meet them."
THE SOUND
Lord Becker has received no communication since the day he and his force set sail, so he did not expect the Trielians so far way from Arnet. He originally wanted to stall for a bit of time, but the opposing side clearly knew what was planned.
It was not natural for a lord to reject an attempt at parley. And Lord Lorcan Stalwart must have known this. Older than his brother by no more than an hour, Becker's opponent must barely younger than twenty-two seasons, and was quite a bibliophile. A scholar in a line of warriors. An anomaly. An aberration.
But Becker knew that no Trielian should be underestimated. After all, he is strong in body and mind alike, and he must have brought his twin here.
Alfyn Stalwart was one of the first beasts to locate and rescue Thordan Swalestrom, so he will not be like the beast he saved. He is more martial than his brother, and defeating the duo will not be easy.
Going for Meraholmer and Thordan seemed as easy as turning a paw, but the Trielians seemed to foresee every move he made. He had only told Godred about his plans, so either the Trielians have spies of the highest caliber, Godred failed to keep his mouth shut (which was quite ironic, considering Lord Becker's own difficulty) or the Trielians were just that lucky. Judging by their scrambled reaction for battle, Becker would say that the third possibility was true.
Thordan Swalestrom was no threat. Becker knew that without having to guess. During the boy's stay at Floret about three seasons prior, Becker (not-so-silently) watched him crawl away from every single problem rather than to face it, and sticking his muzzle into the nearest book he could find. Only himself and Bedric were able to coax him out.
Truth be told, he was not really that bad, considering his parentage. His mother was the son of one of the most unscrupulous kings in living memory (and was too similar to himself for comfort) and a wily, conniving Parman herself, and his father was… Becker would not go there.
There were times when Lord Becker thought him the key for Triel to drop her claim over Southsward. Being next in line to the Duchy of Thavnair, Thordan would bend at the slightest of pressures, either from Becker or his sons. Not that he would be a bad ruler on his own, but having a biddable kinsbeast as one of Triel's bulwarks would certainly be a great boon for Southsward and her population.
Of course, things went awry the moment Young Thordan was made Lord of Meraholmer.
Lord Canute Crestworth decided to 'nip the problem in the bud' without consulting Becker, and he paid the ultimate price for it. Having access to both sides of Southsward coupled with a genuine chance of obtaining the throne of Parma meant that Thordan Swalestrom was to become a great thorn in the tail for Becker and Southsward, whether he wanted to or not.
He had to be neutralised in some way or the other.
Of course, he never told King Gideon about his own thoughts. The last time this happened, his liege sent an assassin at King Thordan, only letting Becker know after he was ordered to incite Triel into war. Thordan was dead before the assassin even got close to him, and Becker could not risk being responsible for the death of his namesake, or Erlend would make sure that his brother would perish slowly.
And probably in great pain as well. If I lost any child of mine to the Trielians, I would do the exact same thing.
He snapped from his musings and walked out of his cabin. Tales have been told after every single sea battle of old - death and injury, and the waters stained red in gore and blood. But Becker cared not for these. His beasts were ready to die for their kingdom.
And so am I.
A/N: Now things are really going to heat up! This chapter took me three weeks to write due to a busy schedule, so I hope none of you were disappointed.
Becker is one of the more interesting characters I have written. Well, I haven't actually written much, but you get the idea. As for Bodvar, he's one of my personal creations, though Birger Waycaster is one of Jade's.
Frankly, this is my first chapter that could be counted as 'filler'. A few characters have been introduced, but nothing of large happens. But as Jade said, 'in every chapter, filler or not, there will be a little nugget of information, so keep an eye out'.
P.S. For what happens to Garrion's segment shortly after, see Chapter 32 of TBBU.
Chapter 11 (Under the Weight) will be up on 26/27 June.