The Only Path
MACOLT, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
"Victory's ours, my Lord." Galen bowed his head in reverence. He had no idea why Garrion told him to take command - and he expected Garrion to have no idea as well. His behaviour had been erratic even before the tower fell on him, but a commoner commander was virtually unheard of.
"As I have expected. See? I was right to trust you." Garrion said as he grinned. "Where's the Trielian squirrel? His army's still mostly intact - you have much to learn in the ways of pursuing an enemy army."
"He ran away. The coward." Galen scoffed at the mention of the Trielian claimant. He couldn't even manage a little adventuring party of four, let alone an entire army. "Managed to take 'is force away too."
"This little occurence is probably because of the fact that you failed to pursue them," spat Lord Garrion as his eyes narrowed and his ears curled.
"M'lord, I had to make sure the beasts are taken care of first. I used to be one of them, you know." Galen said reassuringly as he and another bodyguard hooked Garrion's arm to the wheelchair built for the lordling.
Garrion sighed. "They would only live to fight the next battle and probably die. And the next. And the one after the next. Galen, this is war. We have to make sure that the enemy dies and stays dead. There is no other way to keep Southsward from falling - falling to a puppet king who burns children alive, falling to a young barbarian swamp-squirrel, or falling in the grasp of that Trielian warlord like we have done so before. It will not be."
"We still can't win without morale, Lord Garrion. A chance to see their loved ones, to enjoy the cool breeze of the sea, or to down a tankard in one go can motivate a soldier more than killing their enemies. They desire life, my lord, and I am bound by duty to let them keep theirs."
Lord Garrion turned his head.
"Do you have any sort of idea why I used you as a commander?"
Galen paused to think. "Because I saved you? From the rubble?"
"No. We may have built up quite a connection that day, but if my son was a blundering idiot, I wouldn't put him anywhere close to my troops." Seeing Galen's wondering expression, he quickly added, "The only reason I use you is that I like you. No more, no less. I like your way of doing things. With such focus, such enthusiasm, such drive, Southard is practically unstoppable."
"Milord, I don't think I have such abilities. Triel has much better generals, and-" Garrion raised his paw. "No need for excuses."
The Lord continued to speak. "I do like your candor. You, Galen Snowpath, are one of the only commanders who never tried to flatter me whatsoever." He smiled at his subordinate.
"Tell me. What do commoners lack most?"
Galen blinked once. Then twice. "They have to fill up their bellies, so gold is what they need. That's what I think, anyways."
The lord let out a long sigh, as if Galen's answer disappointed him. "When King Gideon asked my father the same question, he gave a much different answer. Come. Take a guess."
"I wouldn't dare guess, milord."
"One word," said Lord Garrion. "Ambition. Commoners lack the ambition to rise above their station. This is simply how the world works," He said with a solemn expression. "The weak perish while the strong survive. The poor starve while the rich feast. All the rules of life the ones in power have set in stone. But this is not the only path they could ever walk."
"If you were born an impoverished beast, and you bow to your fate, then you would lie in squalor until the day you die. Before that, you are but a tool in the paws of other beasts - a plaything of beasts in higher places. If you resist your fate, though, you can rely on none but yourself. Heroes of old are noble and common alike. If you continue your charismatic behaviour, build up your abilities, you can just wait. One day, what you desire would fall into your paws."
"So you're tellin' me to er… shape up?"
"Precisely. Not now though. We have a little celebration to undertake." The otterlord smiled. "Take a short rest before the coming storm."
RAEVSVAKT, LORDSHIP OF MERAHOLMER, DRAVANIA
During his tenure as Lord of Meraholmer, Thordan Swalestrom had never known if he had met the expectations of his many subjects. The isles that he had ruled had been long seen a division between woodlanders and vermin, and none who walked before Thordan even attempted to bridge the gap.
Seeing their Lord starting to align himself with the vermin, the woodlanders of Meraholmer quickly panicked. They may be fewer in number and proportion compared to the vermin, but they held most of the power the Isles between the sound can muster.
This desperation quickly brought about the attention of Canute Crestworth. With his fleet and a small force, he quickly sailed here and garnered the acceptance of the woodlander population, driving their lord into vermin paws. Before a civil war could take shape, however, Thordan surrendered himself into Crestworth custody, believing that to be in his lordship's best interests.
However, Thordan was not the only beast to misjudge the situation. Before long, Lord Canute had gave the impression that he wanted to bring the Isles under Doman control. This, coupled with the long rivalry between the two lordships, finally brought the woodlanders of Raevsvakt to a conclusion - a conclusion that they should have come to long ago.
Vermin or woodlander, rich or poor, they were still Islebeasts.
Before long, numerous attempts to rescue Thordan from Crestworth paws were made in quick succession by vermin and woodlander alike, some led by a certain weasel named Egil. To prevent Thordan from ever seizing his lordship every again, Lord Canute was prepared to transport the lordling to Doma when the Parmans suddenly invaded.
Aided by some high-ranking Trielian nobles, Thordan was quickly rescued from his prison and reconfirmed as Lord, quietly forgiving his old domestic enemies while promising to shy away from destabilising changes.
Which is why Thordan had doubts about his degree of public acceptance. They have lasted all the way since his rescue, and persisted until setting footpaw in Raevsvakt for the second time.
As opposed to his chilly reception when he first succeeded to the Lordship at his father's request (or command), he was warmly greeted here. Whatever doubts he carried were gone well and fully now.
"Is Raevsvakt always this crowded?" Lorcan Stalwart asked after the four had just entered the castle. Unlike Thordan and his two other friends, the Skipper has never sat footpaw out of Triel.
"Well, the last time I was in it, the whole thing was all too chaotic," Alfyn said similingly. "We would do well to revisit your little city when the world's at peace.
"Last time, not a lot of beasts wanted me around." Thordan's face remained solemn, though his eyes betrayed a shred of emotion. "I'm glad things have changed this time."
"You glad to see woodlanders getting together with vermin?" inquired Egil with one of his diabolical grins. "You do need to show the twins it can be done."
Thordan nodded, though his expression didn't change."There's still much to be done."
"Why the frown?" asked Lorcan once more, no doubt glad to be rid of talk of the vermin-woodlander divide. "You weren't like this before."
Cold glares were quickly shot toward Lorcan, whose face revealed his obliviousness.
"Hate to break it to you,brother, but is grandfather just died," snapped Alfyn.
Lorcan sighed. "I'm sorry. I was insensitive again. Forgive me."
Thordan said nothing, though his gaze betrayed his intention of trying to speak.
"At least he still has his parents. They'll take care of him," Egil tried to twist the situation in a more positive light.
The otter twins quickly stared at the weasel, forcing him to quickly retract his words. Lord Bogdan Stalwart died before his two sons were even born, and his wife was quick to follow him to the grave.
"It's not just that." Thordan groaned. "Too much responsibility brought too much stress, and now I'm left to stew in it."
"You probably need a drink." Alfyn turned to see Egil day the same phrase at exactly the same time. Not surprising, considering their first meeting in Raevsvakt took place in a tavern.
Thordan looked up and sighed. To be completely honest, he still cannot pass the tower he was held before without a flight shudder, and there were times when he dreamt of being in that structure - dreams that he awoke in a cold sweat. Ropes cutting his wrists, being spoon-fed like a babe, Lord Crestworth's leering, taunting voice… all were remembered, etched in his mind.
"I don't really know. I still get nightmares about all that has transpired in the past few months. About being a captive, about Grandfather, about having to deal with a war that we cannot afford, about that mysterious otter-"
Lorcan broke the silence. "Hold on. What otter?"
"Looks like you have a lot of explaining to do…" grumbled Egil.
"Do you really want to know?" Thordan asked.
Lorcan's 'no' was dwarfed out by two 'yes's from Thordan's other friends.
Thordan sighed again. Can't catch a break. "Well, it all started on that night in Doma, when a shadowy lutrine told me to leave Doma. Some 'win or lose, the path you walk leads to oblivion' stuff." He took a deep breath. "Then that same otter stuffed himself into my dream, tells me to find my father, and gets tossed away like a leaf in a storm. And finally my father tells me that you are fighting Skipper Becker, and I arrived."
"So your arrival was ordained by some higher power! I knew Vulpuz was on our side!" exclaimed Egil excitedly.
"Or Thordan's getting stressed out and seeing things. Right?" Alfyn said as he looked at his young friend.
But Thordan was not listening. Clutching his head in pain, he heard a voice. Not the otter - this voice seemed more mature and experienced.
"Now! Now I have you!"
Thordan screamed as his friends looked on worriedly. Egil moved away, Alfyn called for a few guards, while Lorcan just stood there, shocked by the whole thing. He did seem to have heard it somewhere before. But where?
"Let expanse contract, league become digit…"
Thordan's screeches began to weaken when the otter started to feel faint. He plummeted to the floor, and his vision slowly faded into a bright white. The last things he heard before losing consciousness was that blasted voice.
"Throw wide the gates that we may pass!"
KURBURG, KINGDOM OF OTHARN, HIGH KINGDOM OF PARMA
Lorelei studied her young charge as she took the tea tray away. Isangrim had talked about the grey-furred vixen numerous times, and overall she had left a good impression on her. She's basically my Thordan, but even quieter. I've got to find a woodlander Bondbeast for her someday - to protect her of course.
"Now, for my meeting, you should scurry off somewhere else." She could still eavesdrop on everything though… "In fact, you may take the rest of the day off."
"Thank you, Your Highness." The vixen was a demure beast, Lorelei knew, but there's something about her that she didn't quite understand. Isangrim reported that she was a war orphan from the latest Parman-Valnainer war - born of Valnainer blood yet raised by Isangrim himself. Even so, the otterqueen wondered if she could be trusted.
As the foxmaid left the solar they were in, the otterqueen afforded herself a smile. Isangrim may have been in contact with the worst of beasts as Spymaster, yet he has exhibited an ability to find the best of them as well. Such is the power of a Thaumaturge.
Lorelei was not faring as well as her fox. Valnainers rebelling and the Valeran League convening as she breathed were not her only problems. However, rooting out that mole, finding her father's slayer, stopping Southsward from gaining independence, helping her husband keep his fiefs, and getting a bride for Thordan seemed distant compared to this. As the rebels' goal is to break down completely, she had a card up her sleeve. Not a literal card - that was her father's way of doing things - but one just as dangerous, and, in fact, stolen from the enemy.
Two figures glided into the room - an otter and a fox, both dressed in rich clothes and carried a noble air with them.
The first was recognizable instantly - not a lot of otters had a gaping scar across his face. Maurice of Graille, her husband's maternal cousin. Unlike his relatives, whom he shared an age, he was not particularly gregarious or shy - he knew when to open his muzzle, and when to close it shut.
It was the other beast that captured Lorelei's attention. Valnainers may have many issues of their own, but they see no difference between woodlander and vermin, though only woodlanders are included in the Royal Cycle, vermin are lords as well.
With an ever-present grin and a mouth that lied as naturally as it breathed, Renart of Maupert sauntered into a seat, while Maurice sat into one in a more dignified manner. The three stared at each other for a few moments, unsure of where to begin. As such, Lorelei took a few more opportunities to study the odd duo, though her thoughts were soon interrupted.
"You called us here for a reason, Your Highness." Lord Maurice opened the deadlock.
"Ah. Yes. Does King Guillame treat you two well?"
"You would have to stretch the definition of 'well' quite a bit, Your Highness," said Lord Renart. The fox had been well-liked by Lorelei's father - but only because he had found a kindred spirit in the fox. He had more… complex relationships with Lorelei, his fellow lords, and Isangrim most of all.
The fox continued to speak. "He's doing his best to fill up council seats with his own beasts, and he does his best to ignore our advice as well."
Lord Maurice nodded. "The only reason we haven't tried to depose him is that the country would quickly seep into chaos."
Lorelei convinced herself to frown. "That is unfortunate. I have much to apologise for, since my father actually invaded your lands. He must have been much worse than the king you have."
The otterlord shook his head. "You need not be so mired in guilt by your father's actions. The sins of the father have been absolved upon death, and you are free to start your reign anew, washed clean of misgivings." He's taken the bait. Good.
Renart was more angry than worried. 'Your Highness should be looking towards the future, not dwell on the past! Why are you talking about all this?"
"You ask the right question, Lord Renart." A frown lapsed into a smile, though the otterqueen kept it to a bare minimum. "Just a week ago King Guillame was here."
Lord Renart was clearly shocked. "What? That frogface actually came here without telling any one of us? What did he say?" Another fish on the hook. Now, to reel them in…
"He's in league with Guido of Brisca, and he wants to keep Parma from having a king. They even wished that the kingdom be destroyed right up to our faces!"
"How? What is he planning?" Lord Maurice betrayed his own shock.
"I have suspicions that your king desires to make war on us." Now, for one last step…
"Could this be?" mused Maurice.
"This does sound like what our king would do," sighed Renart. "The last war almost doomed both of our realms, and the peace must be kept." Brilliant. "Now, what would you have us do?"
"To put it simply, you need to persuade your council to impede every single war effort. A tyrannical king cannot be allowed to make war on anyone he pleases, can't he?"
"I understand. We will do our best to stop King Guillame's royal charade." responded Lord Maurice, a paw clapped on our chest.
"Yeah, yeah. But may I ask you a question, Your Highness." The foxlord stood and smiled.
"What have I to gain?"
The otterqueen smiled. Thank Great Seasons I was expecting that.
"Everything."
FLORET, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
Clutching a crystal, Arbert walked away from the Castle Archives. Unlike his more bookish brother, Arbert was a mole of action. He would do well to walk a different path - they only path he could manage to walk.
This path is what led him to the Chamber of Stars. Originally built by Egbert, the original Castle Archivist of Castle Floret appointed by King Gael II, this was sort of a private residence of the Archivists to come - when they were not in Duncton, of course.
The Chamber was wide, and a bit more illuminated than the Duncton manor, but this served a different purpose. Within the middle of the room, two swords were planted, stabbing though the wooden planks that were used as a base. Finnbarr and Fatch. Twin swords that were given back to Southsward after their little intervention up in Mossflower - they were a Redwaller gift.
Gripping one of the swords in one paw, and the crystal in the other, Arbert began to angle this world to the next, making them similar in properties. Gently allowing Conjuration to flow out of his body into the crystal, and then guiding it out, Arbert smiled as a little door appeared, cleaving the space in front of him in twain. Tapping in more and more, the door was large enough to allow for a grown beast to pass through - which the mole swiftly did.
He landed in a wide disk, circular in shape, and edges covered with gold on one side, and silver on the other. Inside, another was waiting for him.
"At last you have decided to appear, hmm?" The pine marten grinned as if he finished a particularly hard task (which Arbert knew was not true), as was prone for him to do.
The mole decided not to answer his question, instead countering it with one of his own. "Why is the lord not dead?"
"Er… he woke up right when I was nearly destroying him," the marten sighed in defeat. "He'll be harder to deal with than King Thordan or Erlend's wench."
"This would not have happened if you did not taunt him for minutes," said the mole coldly. "But you need not worry. My brother's working on another seer, and after that, he'll ensure that the Serpent and the Fox both fall in line. In the meantime, you continue on your little burglary - through mundane means, of course. We wouldn't want to catch the attention of the fox and his Conjurer queen."
A grin appeared on the mole's muzzle as the pine marten smiled, a ring on his paw, and gripped Thaumaturgy to punch through space itself, revealing a Parman inn, with a creaky bed and ruffled papers, a starry night sky, and a few hundred coins - rightfully stolen property. Such is Slyte's way of doing things - Thaumaturgy and thievery. I should have left him at Greymorg if we didn't need seers so much.
But before the marten could close the door and leave, the mole ensured that Slyte heard what he had to say.
"No seer should be on the other side as we are. Leave Somerled to me."
A REALM REBORN WILL CONTINUE IN
BOOK II: THE PATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS
COMING IN AUGUST