Under the Weight

INGOLPART, KINGDOM OF JAYSO, HIGH KINGDOM OF PARMA

"Do you, or do you swear to defend your realm?"

"I swear." Corradino didn't know what was said to him,but at least he knew how to respond.

Being only a boy of five seasons, one might wonder what business the otter had when he swore the first of three oaths. Such an important task was not left to children, after all. But the most desperate of times create the most desperate of beasts, and Corradino was needed here.

'Corradino' means 'little Corrado' in Garlean, and the boy's father and namesake watched approvingly as his son swore the first of the three customary oaths when a Jaysian king is crowned. Winchell II, second and last King of Jayso of the Baleblood line, lay dead at the paws of an unknown assailant, and dying unmourned was to be the last of a series of misfortunes the otherwise unremarkable king had to endure.

His mother Eliska was not as warm as her wife. After all, she had to put on a bold, dramatic face when she had to read out the oaths for her son. Winchell's only child, Lady Eliska Baleblood always had a poor relationship with her father, which was not helped by her swift marriage to Corrado, the grandson of the King's sworn enemy - High King Thordan of Parma.

"Do you, or do you swear to defend your subjects?" the highborn otterwife bellowed out.

"I swear." Another oath was said in Jaysian. Corradino only had the most rudimentary grasp on Jaysian, as the tongue of the Islanders was not related to any other in the vicinity. Triel and Parma may just be on the archipelago's two sides, but Jaysian showed no similarities with Obrinska or Garlean, and Trielo-Southard was a far cry compared to this tongue. Being a foreigner, King Winchell was very much surprised to hear that a simple toast of ale required the use of five syllables.

Perhaps not surprisingly, King Winchell was not well liked by anyone from Jayso, his sister Anzeka being the sole exception. The young otterpup in front of his mother had quite a poor impression of his grandfather. I don't like him. He's always mean to Mother, and says unkind things behind Father's back. I wish he was Great-Grandpa. He always smiled.

Corradino was shaken from his inner thoughts by his mother, who shouted aloud the third oath. He didn't need to know what it meant in Jaysian.

"I swear."

A mouse that he did not know stepped up, wearing the finest silk bearing a sword made of the finest of steel. Corradino knew that it was Stormblood, the legendary weapon of the Jaysian kings, wielded by every single one. Though it was used here as a ceremonial weapon, it had been proven to be deadly in battle as well.

"Then accept this sword through the paws of those who fight, who unworthy, yet consecrated by the authority of the rights bestowed on us, impart it to you by divine ordinance for the defence of the realm. Pursue the false and the unfaithful, help and defend widows and orphans, restore those things which have fallen into decay and maintain those things thus restored, avenge injustice and confirm good dispositions, that doing this, you may be glorious in the triumph of justice and may reign until the end of a long life."

The young king brandished the sword (with considerable difficulty due to his youth) for the cheering crowd, not once or twice, but three times, one for every oath he swore. A squirrel, clearly less well-groomed than the mouse, held in his paws a golden sceptre, and handed it to the king.

"Accept this rod of virtue and equity from the paws of those who work. Learn to respect the brave and to intimidate the coward; guide the straying; lend a paw to the fallen; repress the arbitrary and raise the just, and fill the hearts of your subjects with wisdom."

Then came the apex of the whole ceremony. A golden crown was brought forth from the crowd, with numerous images of previous kings etched of the whitest of enamel. Jaysian royal power came to be represented not simply by any common crown, but by just one specific object: the Crown of King Istvan. Legend dictates that any usurper that claimed it were fated to die within a single season, as it is the personal property of the long-dead Founder of the kingdom - possibly a story fabricated to ward off anybeast who coveted these isles.

Jaysian kings are accepted only on three conditions, and being coronated with King Istvan's crown was one of them. The other two dictated that the king was always to be crowned at Ingolpart Shrine, and by the Palatine of Jayso, who in this case was (rather conveniently) the king's father. The document that conferred him this title may have been of dubious legality, but he was always quick to seize control of the realm in disarray.

This also meant that the Kingdom of Jayso was a special state: they were not looking for a crown to inaugurate a king, but rather, they were looking for a king for the crown. Corradino of Garlesca was a child, and it would take more than a decade before he would reach his majority. It is most definitely in the interest of local nobles for the Garlean boy to ascend to the throne. Never before had a king so young sat on the Jaysian throne - two were ten when they were crowned, but as the Jaysians say, 'five is right out'.

The other choices were Garrion and Godred Swalestrom, grown otters who have been known to be headstrong and loyal to Southsward. In his last will, Winchell declared Garrion his successor, though its legality has been successfully disputed by his daughter. Holed up in Macolt and unable to move to Jayso, Garrion was quickly denied as a possibility. The Duchy of Obring has declared for Garrion, though as a Trielian vassal state, it would not be likely for him to accede.

Corrado the father decided that it would be time to play his part in the extravagant ceremony. "Be steadfast and hold fast to that place of which you have become heir by succession from your forefathers, and let your right paw be strengthened and your left paw be exalted. Let justice and judgment be the foundations of your throne and mercy and truth go before your face."

The father then put the crown onto the son's head carefully, so that the its weight would not be too uncomfortable for the boy. Even then, Corradino needed much effort to keep his posture upright - crowns were heavy objects, and this one was four and a half pounds - not light in any sense of the word.

The moment the crown was set on Corradino's head, the beasts standing below the stage, noble and commoner alike, shouted aloud, chanting the traditional phrase used since three centuries prior to this day.

"Life!"

"Health!"

"Happiness!"

"Victory!"

The loudness quite obviously startled the young king, though his mother was able to keep him calm after a few whispers into his ear.

After a few moments in the shrine, during which the cheering grew softer and softer, Corradino was led up to a hill, built up from soil from every single island. Drawing Stormblood from the sheath (again with a small struggle), the newly enthroned King of Jayso pointed the weapon towards the four cardinal directions - an act of symbolism to protect his kingdom from all four sides - which again drew cheers from the ever-growing crowd.

The next few moments passed exactly like a sharp gust of wind. After swearing once more to protect his realm and all it holds, Corradino was quickly marched back to the castle to receive the homage of all of his subjects. Noble and peasant alike came to greet him - a child can surely do no harm to anyone, can't he?

Then came the feast. Corradino sat between his parents as dish after dish was served to him. Shrimp and hootroot soup came first - a favourite dish of every otter. Corradino's soup was heavily diluted with the soup before having it served to him. After having everything tested for poison and other harmful substances (which took way too long, Corradino thought) he finally was able to taste it. It was not as good as what he had heard. Perhaps one day I'll be able to try the real thing!

The other soup Corradino liked much more. Fish, baby scallops, clams, shrimps, mussels and squid were mixed together in a tomato broth, and garlic, pepper and sea salt were swiftly added afterwards. Having never had anything like this back in Garlesca, Corrado took his first sip. More followed swiftly, and the whole bowl was empty within the span of a few minutes. Two more bowls were downed before Lady Eliska stopped him from procuring a surfeit of soup.

Bread and pies came next, and Corradino savoured every mouthful. Then came larger courses, like woodpigeons and fish, some of which Corradino never seen the likes of, and he tore into them with gusto. The Garlean penchant for food and more food was only surpassed with wine and more wine, though the child was barred from drinking more than a small goblet.

Dessert came last, as was customary. Beasts carved out of marizpan, woodlander and vermin alike, supported another marzipan structure - one molded into the exact shape of the crown Corradino wore just hours previously. All sense of discipline was quickly tossed into some corner invisible to anyone else as the otterpup tore into the strcuture.

After a night of ceremony and celebrations, the young king could finally cast of his heavy coronation robes, and get a good night of sleep.

Infancy had just ended for Corradino.

EASTERN PARMAN SEA

In little more than a thousand hours, Thordan gained a lordship, lost and regained the very same title, lost his grandfather, and was leading a military force for the first time in his life.

Now was not the time to have excessively vivid nightmares, but here he was.

He was standing on some kind of disk, with the areas near the fringe surrounded by many smaller circles (thirteen, Thordan counted), and the proper edge was coated with a golden ring.

But there was only one thing Thordan was interested in. Not a thing per se, but a beast.

He (probably a male, anyway) had all the distinguishing features of an otter. A tall, slender body, four webbed paws, and a strong, powerful rudder that can knock a beast over - like Canute Crestworth did back in Raevsvakt about two months before. He looked young, and a few ottermaids would easily fall for him - if he was still alive, of course.

"At last, I've found you."

Thordan flinched. That voice was familiar. He had been hearing it for the better part of two weeks, and it had finally grown to a coherent form three days ago. "Turn back," it sounded before. "Win or lose, you cannot be victorious if you are hindered in Doma."

Seeing Thordan's panicked reaction, the lutrine figure shifted his posture, to assuage the young lord that he was no threat. "Please! There is no cause for alarm! Though, I confess, that I have not expected to meet you here, of all places. But the place of our meeting is of no consequence - like the war we - no. Like the war you wage." The voice echoed around the plane, loud and clear, but Thordan was clearly not interested in these formalities.

The figure continued. "The better path leads you here. To me. I have need of you."

"Who are you?" The usual question when encountering unknown figures was uttered softly.

"I am afraid such questions would have to wait. We have precious little time, and your work is not yet done, as well as mine. We have barely bonded to the point that you can see me. I would simply say that I am a comrade of Isangrim."

"None of this makes any sense."

"None of this has to," the figure countered. "All you have to do is to sail westward."

"But Raevsavakt is in the other direction! What do you want me to do? FIrst you tell me to turn away from Parma, then you tell me not to defend my lordship! You have no idea what's at stake here! You have to send me back! Now!" Thordan snapped agitatedly.

"You have to see your father for the last time before everything starts to unravel. Adulthood has just begun for you, Thordan Swalestrom, and every single trickle of time must be cherished. It is etched."

He continued, "You simply cannot be crushed under the weight of knowledge, cursed or not. You will know who I am soon, and then you will be glad that you know. But now, we shall go towards the same destination using separate paths."

Before Thordan or the otter could speak another world, a crack suddenly manifested in the disk. It spread outwards and outwards, until everything started to burst apart, sending both otters flying into different directions.

Thordan's eyelids detached from each other when he sprung from the bed. Getting back to sleep will not be an easy task, he sighed as he lay down again, awaiting a more pleasant dream.

Childhood had just ended for Thordan.

KURBURG, KINGDOM OF OTHARN, HIGH KINGDOM OF PARMA

Of King Thordan's three last orders, two have been completed.

The first had been to take care of the business egarding Young Thordan Swalestrom.

The second had been to ensure that King Winchell followed him to the grave.

The third was to obey every single order given to him by Lorelei Skyward.

"So I'm forbidden to rest until when?"

The black fox moaned and groaned while his master watched impassively. Of all beasts, there was but one he feared, and she was standing in front of him.

Thordan Skyward's 'list of trustables' contain nine individuals, and though Isangrim was one of them, he just could not get to work with any of them.

Thordan Swalestrom was a boring, wispy child that made Niels Crestworth seem interesting by comparison, and his brother Corrado Truetide was temperamental and passionate, only outclassed by his mother.

Which brings him to his meeting with Lorelei Skyward on the eve of the Third Electoral Session.

"Your work is still unfinished. We still have to hunt him down!"

"But why? It isn't that we could catch him now! It was done from far away! You can't expect us to hunt him down here and now!"

"At least we have some clues. The strike that finished off my father was done with Thaumaturgy - the area of your expertise."

"At least we have enough evidence to deduce that a vermin killed him, that's certain. Thaumaturgy says it all. But what has all that have anything to do with the mole?"

"Thordan reported that the hunter had almost slain him by taking him by surprise. He could Conjure better than any woodlander had done before!"

That was a problem. A very big one, in fact. To the average Mossflower vermin, seers are danger, pronouncing curses upon entire villages, and leading warlords to victory or death. To the average Mossflower woodlander, seers are frauds, who gained access to the ears of powerful vermin warlords, and are the best way to frighten disobedient children. To Isangrim and Lorelei, seers are but conditions the Fates have inflicted on them - conditions King Thordan had decided to weaponise.

Thordan Skyward had the gift of the seer as well, as well as its limitations. He utilised season after season to study this specific state, and his results shall prove most useful in the future.

Though he was dead at the moment, his lingering will should be around them, especially if everything was to plan. However, he was separated from them at his own insistence, in order to slowly (yet surely) bring Thordan up in the ways of the seer. Being the bookish, ever-curious boy that Young Thordan is, Isangrim is completely sure of his success.

But the problem was not either one of the Thordans. That would have to wait.

"I think I would have another mission for you. Carrying Father's soul to Thordan was no dangerous quest. You'll get your rest eventually."

Isangrim grumbled under his breath. The last three seasons have been quite taxing on both Master and Apprentice. Sure, the Gates have been opened, but they were not the only ones to benefit from the world's new state. After a few more expeditions, and finding a disciple to call his own, Isangrim still could not get his rest. But still, he will eventually take a break. This may not be etched, but there is still a high chance.

"Your duty is to investigate the Southards. Rumours have started to spread that they were complicit in Father's death, and Thordan might just be another future casualty of their rampage."

This seems to simplify things. Corrado Truetide never seemed to like the black fox (though he got on with Hersent quite well), and it is a stroke of luck for Isangrim that he did not inherit the Skyward seer traits - perhaps his father was not the right choice. Young Thordan was, as usual, the unlucky one. Isangrim has yet to see what his Gift is, but it will not be useless in the trials to come.

"Should I take Hersent with me?" Isangrim asked. The Apprentice was a fox like Isangrim (blimey, does Vulpuz favour his own kind), though with grey fur instead of Isangrim's black. Mossflower vermin called him 'Pallpelt' when he was on that mission from ten seasons ago, and he has decided to use it as a byname when he travelled North of Southsward, as well as his little sojourn towards that blasted place he would do well to forget.

"No. She will stay here. You don't know what you will face."

"I'm just saying that-"

"She's fifteen, Isangrim Pallpelt. She's younger than Thordan, for Fates' sake."

Before Isangrim could utter another word, he sensed Lorelei's glare - an obvious bad sign if there ever was one.

He decided to slink out of the door as fast as he could, before he made any more mistakes.

I thought I was the one taking charge after I made that otterwife my Bondbeast. Gates. Now I have become a Skyward pet through and through, notwithstanding the fact that he's on the other side of the grave. Vulpuz help me.

"Wait!" barked Lorelei. Isangrim turned to meet a wooden box being thrown at him. Catching it before it was able to bruise his muzzle, he took a look at the container. It was as unadorned as any box could be, but when he asked Thordan what it contained, his mentor refused to give a straight answer.

"Go on. Open it. It's yours now. You know full well that I can't use it."

Isangrim clicked open the box, and flung the top open. Barely managing to keep his composure (and struggling to prevent his jaw from dropping), he grinned.

Apprenticeship has just ended for Isangrim.

A/N: I finally broke the 3K limit!

TBBU has already demonstrated what seers can do in Jade's works, and I've decided to take them a few steps further. Expect the unexpected, and RAFO*!

How will Garrion fare against the Truetides? Who is the mysterious figure speaking to Thordan? What on earth is Lorelei planning? The next few Isangrim chapters will start to get very hectic, so watch out for anything!

Chapter 12 (Beneath Bloodied Banners) will be out on 3/4 July!

*That's 'Read And Find Out', for people who don't know.