Frontiers Within

THE SOUND

For Lord Becker Swalestrom, everything was going well for once.

Lorcan and Alfyn were tenacious opponents, and they are not to be underestimated. Lorcan was a beast able to keep a cool head in the most adverse of circumstances, while his younger twin had boundless will and courage. Aside from that, their bigger-than-little physical condition shall prove to be a massive boon for one-on-one combat.

Dividing them proved to be all too easy.

Driving a wedge between the two started with a deliberately overextended ship or two. Lorcan will simply sit back and shower them with projectiles, getting in range in the process, while Alfyn would simply ram into them at full speed.

The twins were unstoppable only when together. They depended on each other too much. Without bravery, what good can thought do? Without introspection, what benefits can boldness reap? Over-specialisation made the Stalwarts strong and weak at the same time.

Leading from the rear was not seen as particularly brave by most beasts, but Becker and Erlend can get behind that idea - one of the rare things they can agree on. Erlend started life as a shy, timid otter, and would probably end life that way.

Becker was different. Loud and boisterous, he could be a real friend to whoever asking - providing that they are loyal to Southsward, of course. Bedric observed that King Garmund of Triel and King Gideon of Southsward would be beasts that people would go to ask for help and assistance (and in no other circumstance), while Becker and Erlend were the otter brothers that everybody liked. Everybody except each other, apparently.

He barked an order. "Get more ships focused on Lord Alfyn." If one brother was taken down (by capture, incapacitation or even death), then the Southards would have a much better time dealing with the other. "Send two more to block Lord Lorcan's communications. And send a few more to swing back and attack on my order."

Lord Becker went back into his cabin. As befitting a commander and captain of one of the most majestic vessels of the Southard navy, his quarters on the Halberd was the most open. Lit candles lay on spaces designed for them, while their unlit counterparts lay all across the deck. The tempting lure of his bed was agonisingly tempting, but Becker decided to sit and muse upon the future.

After the battle was won, Lord Thordan Swalestrom is expected to fold easily. Becker knew first-paw that Thordan was little more than a pushover, and that he'll do what the beast next to him tells him to. The struggle to reach Thordan was the easy step - becoming 'the beast next to him' was a much harder struggle instead.

Sigurd Swalestrom, on the other paw, was unruly. He was only loyal to his father - and nobody else. Becker would be sad to see him go - though his death was necessary for Southsward to triumph. Better have a weak, scholarly teenager as Lord of Kaldos than a trained, hostile warrior placed in such proximity to their Parman trade route.

Becker knew full well that Erlend was a poor parent compared to his brother. He may have been an intelligent otter, but managing a fiefdom and taking care of children required two completely different sets of skills. He may have had children, but he had never been a father.

Erlend showed obvious care for no other beast than 'Lady' Sigrid. She was a commoner he picked up in Kaldos, and they continued their adultery even after his marriage to the greatest heiress seen in the Southern realms - a very unwise move, though there were no consequences to be seen. The elder Thordan and his daughter turned a blind eye, while the younger disapproved of the liaison, but liked her well enough as a beast.

Becker's affections never shifted toward any other female, unlike Erlend, Lord Alfyn or every single Garlean male over the age of twenty seasons. The otterlord may have only met his future bride after the betrothal (an already unconventional move, but Southsward was desperately in need of alliances), but it only took all too little time for them to fall in love with each other. This, coupled with the fact that Becker vastly preferred his marital and parental duties to those of a lord, made them a stable anomaly in a world of lechers and prudes.

As any son of a lord should be, Garrion was proud, and rightfully so. He was intelligent and a bibliophile, and he was brave on the battlefield as well. But he moves too quick into action sometimes, making every mistake an otter can make along the way.

If Garrion jumps into action with the speed of a rushing river, then Godred would leap into the fray just as swiftly as a bolt of lightning, with the sound of thunder accompanying his every move. He was brave, all right, and is clever enough, but Becker once theorised that impulsiveness would be the doom of his second born son.

His daughter's doom would be the exact opposite vice - inaction. She had been betrothed to a host of otterlords - Corrado Truetide, Lorcan Stalwart, Sverker Crestworth… the list goes on and on. The first two have been (happily) married to different ottermaids, and the third is closing in on a betrothal with Beatritz of Aldernan. Becker only hoped that his daughter could find a husband worthy of her (and him).

Of course, there would be no omitting of his last child. Bedric Swalestrom may have resembled his mother in looks, but his heart and personality was his father's through and through. He may have been (unintentionally) neglected by his parents, but Becker promised to care more about the needs of his lastborn.

There was a knock at the door before a beast blundered into the room. Raising to his footpaws, Becker quickly awaited the oncoming message. He was on the verge of victory - not a lot of things could damage the status quo. Even if something unexpected happened, Becker can still react accordingly.

"Islander ships have been spotted near the Trielians. Thordan has brought the fight to us."

The lord sprung to his footpaws, and ran out of the cabin, knocking down the messenger in the process. He spoke true - seven more ships suddenly sprung from the far reaches from the ocean, the fox banner of Meraholmer up on top of every single one of them.

"Sound the retreat!" shouted the otterlord. "We have destroyed more ships than them, so we are victorious! No need to linger here!" In any battle, an orderly retreat is better than a rout. Most casualties on land battles are caused by cutting down fleeing remnants of a defeated army, and this is most likely the case at sea as well.

At least the Islanders didn't appear from our backs. That would have been disastrous. Ships began to move away from the battle, Southard-made and recently captured Trielian vessels alike. The beasts actually believed that they have won. Becker knew otherwise.

Heavens cast you down, Thordan Swalestrom. Your mother raised you well.

MACOLT, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD

On the other side of the world, beasts are killing each other for the exact same reason.

Dirk Tillwaters had just received a promotion to the rank of Captain, which was a pleasant surprise compared to being thrust into battle again.

It all started when a scathing remark by the Trielian squirrel who calls himself king was heard by Garrion Swalestrom. Gale told him that the hall was thrust into violence almost immediately, and only the timely intervention of a few guards on both sides saved the nobles from further physical harm.

Dirk turned, tearing a Trielian hare's stomach apart. The battle was nearing its conclusion, with the Trielians close to breaking point. All this for three words and a truth revealed a bit too late. Stupid highborns and their refusal to quit.

As Lord Garrion is still currently incapacitated by his injuries, he has (quite shockingly) appointed Galen to serve as an impromptu replacement, to Dirk's joy and a few other nobles' chagrin. Garrion had only met Galen and Dirk for only less than a month - an incredibly short time for him to be appointed a commander. He was actually doing quite a good job even without experience - better than the snobby lordling himself would have done. An extended talent in producing flanking maneuvers proved to be decisive against the False King of Triel. This, added to Ralos' Swordbeasts (Sword somehow being an acronym for the Southsward Order of Defence) returning from their disastrous encounter in Vernoll.

Dirk and Galen had been friends when they met, when Galen wandered into the streets of Norleth, helping Dirk in his little bounty hunting business. He was the beast who found clues while Dirk searched for the beasts who were connected to these clues. They worked for two seasons until the war broke out, not being well-off by any means, but that was still better than starving to death on the streets of Floret.

Galen Snowpath was a Northerner from Mossflower, though his accent does seem that he came from somewhere else - but that didn't matter. Dirk remembered that he was more than slightly shocked by a tidbit of Gale's origins when he blurted a name out in a drunken stupor, but good partners are hard to come by (and good friends even harder), so Dirk didn't pry.

The pair had saved Garrion from rubble back in the ruined fort, and the lord was quick to reward them. Galen quickly accepted Lord Garrion's offer of being one of his bodyguards (Dirk has always taught that Garrion trying to recruit them is some sort of 'reparation' for two deceased guards who were crushed in the rubble) while Dirk has refused the offer. Garrion gave him a captain's role as an 'alternative compensation'.

Leading his little unit forth, Dirk met a mouse's blade with his shield, then tripped him over with his rudder. A stab to the throat followed immediately, and Dirk had just enough time to avoid an arrow, pulling out his sword in the process.

The last few Trielians swiftly lay down their arms, after taking enough time to allow Lord Somerled to run away with his tail between his legs. He will not live long - Dirk was sure of that. The travelling pine marten told him all too much about that.

He could see Garrion congratulating his soldiers who fought well, and speaking to a squirrel dressed in blue and a few medals clinging to his uniform - General Ralos, evidently. The squirrel had only taken a light wound in the shoulder, but he is expected to recover. His weary, greying face says it all - the battles will only increase in number - until any parley actually works.

HILDRINN, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD

It was a brutal sight.

Countless bodies were piled up together, preparing to be buried in some grave far away from the fortress and the city. Southard and Dravainer may have been at each other's throats when alive, but in death they will never be separated in any way.

Godred looked at his cousin's corpse, still clutching his sword. Wielding it is an advantage in a duel, but in open battle this can doom a lot of glory-seeking beasts. Having a few arrows in the limbs were not enough to kill Sigurd Swalestrom, and the bolt in the head could be counted as some sort of twisted mercy.

Some may have called Godred rash when he had ordered the assault, but the results have been worth it. No defender had expected an all-out attack on the city within a week of Lord Becker's departure - Sigurd least of all. It all started through a concerted rock barrage into a weak spot in the wall, with no more than ten archers protecting it. While Sigurd was still blinded by his own pride, Southard forces surged into the citadel. Sigurd lay dead before his footpaws, while his sister and the Strandsors absconded too fast for him to chase after them without risking his troops. Traps are everywhere, and Godred would not like to hand over a victory.

Truth be told, Godred always thought that his father was not that wise going after Thordan. He did not like Erlend's sole surviving son - his brief stay in Floret has seen to that. A mere scholar cannot be a threat to the realm, can it?

Sigurd's twin was another story - the fact that she remains unmarried in particular. The fact that she could marry any male with a rudder could be most damaging to Southard morale - Haakon Strandsor's paws are rumoured to be closing in on her, and Raimon of Aldernan couldn't wait to open a second front against the Parmans via the Sound. At least the married Lorcan Stalwart could not take her as his bride. That would be disastrous for Southsward.

Avelyn Stalwart never accompanied her husband towards Dravania, so there will be no worry of a posthumous child, waiting to avenge his father. Never mind that - his siblings and father will take charge from here.

If they survive that long.

KURBURG, KINGDOM OF OTHARN, HIGH KINGDOM OF PARMA

"What's your name?" the otterqueen asked.

"It's... it's Hersent, Your Highness." The teenage vixen shuddered. Isangrim had told her about the capricious nature of noblebeasts, but this was her first time meeting royalty. The fact that there was nobeast else in the room did nothing to assuage matters for her.

"Ah, yes. You might wonder why you were called here, Hersent." Lorelei's voice was as soft as a cord of silk that was just used to strangle somebeast.

The vixen continued to tremble fearfully. "Master Isangrim told me that he would be away in a while, so he would send me here until he returns."

"He told me to continue your training in the meantime." Queen Lorelei smiled. "Every second cannot be wasted, as Parma has need for seers like you."

"Forgive me, but Master said that vermin make much better seers as compared to woodlanders. He said that you teaching me would be like fish teaching birds to fly, or birds teaching fish to swim." It was true that vermin are much better at controlling the powers of a seer compared to woodlanders, which was also why Conjuration is much, much less effective than Thaumaturgy. That was what Isangrim claimed, at least.

"Well, young lady, there are swimming birds and flying fish. My father has seen both and lived to tell the tale." Taking a deep breath, she continued. "I can fill you in the gaps in your training, alongside more practical skills, but on a few conditions." The grey-furred vixen's ears peaked up in interest.

"First of all, you would have to arrive when and where I want you to be. Like I said before, we don't have much time, so we would have to seize every moment."

Hersent bowed. "Understood."

"Then you would have to promise not to allow yourself to gossip or meddle in political matters."

"I can do that, Your Highness." That's easy.

"And at last you would have to assume the guise of one of my maidservants. I will not burden you with any labourous tasks, but simply leaving you around would cause a few suspicions. At least Isangrim was known to be Spymaster in my father's days. Mayhaps you can ascend to that role in the future."

"That is but a small price to pay for the knowledge you will pass to me, Your Majesty," said Hersent as she tried to suppress a smile. She was going to learn from Queen Lorelei herself!

"Then come to me. We have much to discuss."

BLESWYN, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD

It only took less than a few minutes for Captain Bodvar Waycaster to leave the camp in which he was held. The guards were easily distracted, and the few ones that failed to look away at the right moment were easily incapacitatedt. Slinking out into the darkness alone was not easy, and only one of his subordinates went with him for fear of discovery.

"Captain, the exit's there." Pickner was not any beast with great capabilities, but he was brave and reliable. The mouse was observant too, and Bodvar liked him for this gift the most.

"We should take a detour. The guards there are quite obsessed with keeping us in." Bodvar replied, while pointing in the other direction. "We should probably make a big distraction before actually going away."

"How 'bout lighting a fire somewhere? The Trielians will surely go to investigate."

"Nah, that's overused and rather inefficient. Where are we going to get a fire without being seen? And can we run fast enough to avoid getting caught?" Bodvar said as he continued to scout the area.

"Good questions. How are we going to leave then?" Pickner asked.

"Hmm… Rushing out of the front doors is simply too risky. Any more solutions?"

"I don't think we have other options, but rushing out is simply foolish. How about we try something sneakier?"

"You have an idea?"

Pickner whispered in the otter's ear, "Well, we can try to sneak up from their backs, and surprise them once they know we're escaping."

Bodvar grinned. "I have a better idea." He whispered back in his companion's ear.

He walked up to the nearest guard, a dull-looking mouse, and waited for a response.

"Who are you? Why are you here?"

"And no lies!" shouted the hare next to him.

"Evidently, I'm Captain Bodvar Waycaster of the Southsward Order of Defence and I'm trying to escape. After this, I intend to run for the hills and laugh while my army destroys yours completely and utterly. Satisfied?"

"Seems like a lie," the hare said as he yawned. "I asked for the truth!"

"I dunno, I think he's tellin' the truth here," replied the otter as he had his crossbow loaded and trained at Bodvar.

The hare snapped. "If he were telling the truth, he wouldn't have been so forthcoming, you idiot!"

Bodvar decided to butt in. "That indeed is the case, unless of course, I knew you won't believe the truth even if I told it to you plainly and simply."

The mouse was well and truly confused. "What does that-" He couldn't even finish the sentence before Pickner whacked him hard on the head with a stick. The hare barely had time to react before Bodvar rushed him, placed his paws on his neck, and waited for the hare to go under.

Seeing no trace of more soldiers, the pair quickly slipped off into the Southard plains.

A/N: Sorry for the earlier upload! I think I'll pull a Highwing and upload the las three chapters if Book I very, very close to each other.

And so Book I is close to ending. The story, of course, will continue, and the plot will only escalate from here. The next two chapters will be even more hectic, so watch out!

Chapter 14 (Through the Maelstrom) will be up on tomorrow!