Discordance
VARGO, LORDSHIP OF VARGO, KINGDOM OF OTHARN, HIGH KINGDOM OF PARMA
"Tell me what you know about Thaumaturgy, Hersent." Queen Lorelei smiled as best as anyone with her personality could, yet something fell short in the eyes of the grey vixen.
"Isangrim told me that it is a torrent of power, which has to be seized." Wielding the power of Thaumaturgy may be easier compared to Conjuration, but it shrinks away from one's touch like a rebellious child. "Awe and menace are all you can feel when holding it."
"Well at least you got the basics right." Lorelei said, taking out a book from her satchel. The two seers were not in the palace, instead having retreated away into Lorelei's mountain residence. Well, the otterqueen had to take a break from all that politicking somehow. The fact that the fox was sitting higher than she had ever been did little to disturb her thirst for knowledge though. As a matter of fact, it was heightened even more than before.
"And you do know how it can be used, right?" The sudden voice snapped her out of her trance. "Isangrim is not a beast to shy around the details."
She remembered what the black fox had told her. Conjuration is a gentle river with the Conjurer a waterwheel, with energy to power whole families and villages. Thaumaturgy, on the other paw, was wholly different. "It is but a force to be controlled and seized, like the howling ocean or something." She could not stop the last two words from seeping out of her mouth. It shall seem that there is much more to 'proper speak' than ditching an accent.
Fortunately, the otterwife paid no mind to her words as she threw a little statue to her. 'This in an Amplifier. As you know, you cannot access Thaumaturgy without one of these or an Amplifier - not in this world, anyway."
Loose lips again proved to be Hersent's undoing. "There are others?"
Lorelei glared at the grey fox, earning an apology in return. "Yes, yes. Or so I have heard anyway. Not that I have been to any one of them, of course. Isangrim would be more well-versed in this matter."
The otter continued. "All worlds were one once, but something happened that split it into seven. We live in the centrepiece, or The Source, while the others surround us in two triangles, attuned to Thaumaturgy and Conjuration respectively."
The otter turned back to Hersent, who felt herself straighten. "No more questions. I don't know that much, so keep your voice down unless you want to be Pressured into doing so."
Pressuring? Isangrim had told her about that before - a way to allow your mind and will to leak into another creature's. It could not happen to her, can it? "I understand."
'Very well." The woodlander returned to a sort of calmness, at least outwardly. "As Isangrim's notes had stated, you are already more powerful than every Conjurer to live, though Isamgrim is still a level or two above you. I am not particularly powerful as a seer, but as I had promised my Bonder, you will be my student in the time that he is gone. You can do the basics, right?"
"Yes."
"Good. At least you're better than both of my sons. One's a Truetide, so he's out. The other, though.. he acts just like you do. But don't try to Bond him just yet. We have other options open to us."
SALAMANDASTRON, LORDSHIP OF SALAMANDASTRON
Nothing much had changed since Arbert's last journey to Salamandastron.
Of course, there were those hares with ale and wine for blood, carrying outrageous accents and insulting, obnoxious behaviours on their sleeves, and bearing ridiculously long names.
General Hollin (Arbert never knew his full name, and had no plans to do so) showed him to his quarters, where he sat musing. The loud and boisterous hare had defended the mountain when Greymorg played her paw of cards, descending upon Mossflower like the tides. Only with the efforts of Brink Rufeshodd the otter and Keetch the fox did Mossflower not only survive, but thrive. The appearance of both Becker and Erlend Swalestrom in Salamandastron and Redwall Abbey respectively did help, though the two incidents were not related.
Salamandastron was where Arbert came into play. His training as a warrior paid off well, and he helped sweep the vermin back into the Lands of Ice and Snow, where he met Keetch's ghost. He was the strongest in Thaumaturgy of all seers Arbert had met, but being dead, he was of no use to (or against) Arbert.
Having been to Mossflower meant that the mole could travel there again, as the destination has to be known before a beast opens a Gate. Arbert originally wanted to arrive suddenly within the mountain itself, but that was not exactly his brother would have called to be a safe decision. After all, those hares may not have recognised him and could spare so many arrows that he would soon look more like a hedgehog than a mole - they are similar in size.
It took half an hour for Lord Rathor 'the Tempest' to get ready to talk with him. The badgerlord was an imposing beast, taller than every beast he had seen, and almost every beast he had heard of. Living longer than everyone else was but another boon to badgers as a whole - as they were not overpowered already, being the best of warriors and (not exactly good) seers as well.
"I see that you have come to Salamandastron, friend." Rathor was a beast of clarity and logic, and would not enter a state of Bloodwrath easily - which cannot be said for Arbert. "For what are you here?"
"Seers are drawn to the mountain." Arbert replied with a nonchalant smile.
"You are a seer?" The badger was not a beast who was surprised often, but there is a first for everything - including finding a fellow seer right across a table.
"Indeed." I only have to speak like Dagbert for about an hour until this is over…
Arbert continued, "I am here to research the effects of meteoric steel on the ability of seers."
"Oh? Salamandastron's meteors have been rather rare as of late."
"I have heard that you have a sword forged with it."
"Do you mean the Sword of Martin the Warrior?" The badger smiled like an otter teaching his child how to swim.
"No. I mean Verminfate, the sword of Rawnblade Widestripe, who was not called Martin." Just give it to me. The sooner it is in my paws, the sooner you can see it returned to you! It is that simple, isn't it?
"You wish to borrow it?" The mole nodded.
"Well, the sword is my property, and I need it by my side." Damnation.
"I do not need to have it amongst my possessions for too long. Three days and two nights shall suffice. Or is that too long for you?"
"It is not." The badger's smile faded. "I was just afraid that you were about to steal it."
"I assure you that I will not do so." Arbert had never been mistaken for a sword thief before. Sure, he had stolen an axe in the past, but that was long ago.
"Provided that the sword does not leave the mountain, you can use it in any way without shedding blood." The badger returned to his signature calmness. "Out of curiosity, just what are you planning to do with it?"
A bit of humour would not hurt… "I intend to sleep with it like a child does with a doll. In the chamber where you badgerlords carve your visions under the influence of Bloodwrath." Seeing the shocked look on Rathor's face, Arbert grinned as widely as he did in Greymorg three seasons ago.
'You did say 'in any way', did you?"
DOMA, LORDSHIP OF DOMA, KINGDOM OF OTHARN, HIGH KINGDOM OF PARMA
To be honest, Lord Sverker did expect the arrival of troops on the Doman shores. He just got the commanding officer wrong.
While Thordan Swalestrom had been vacillating and weak, being swayed by the beasts he called friends, Alfyn Stalwart was a true warrior in every describable way. He had the body of a warrior, being taller than every otter Sverker had ever seen. He was brave too, and had the mind of a tactician.
But he was not the leader of the Trielians on the Doman shores, no. That honour would go to Lorcan Stalwart. The absence of a white border on his shell banner meant all the difference to Sverker and Doma.
The Skipper of the Arnet Otterguard was a strategist instead of a tactician, but he was smart enough to land his troops far, far away from enemy activity (unlike Thordan Swalestrom, who just came upon the city, and left as swiftly as he came). Now, he was ending his investment of the city, until the parley, that is.
It would not be honourable for a lord to refuse an attempt at parley, so here they were, with Castle Doma, sipping tea while praying silently for the other's defeat.
"I see that you have the city surrounded, Lord Stalwart." Sverker coolly said, while adding his second lump of sugar, unlike Lorcan, who did not add anything, or his brother Harald, who's cup of tea would resemble more of a sugary mush than any sort of liquid.
"I can see that as well." The tall otterlord drank deep from his cup, then continued, "It would break proper etiquette to ask you to surrender now, would it not?"
"I do not think that that would be a good idea," replied Sverker. Why did I choose the largest room for the parley anyway?
The shorter otterlord decided to change the subject - and fast. "You must be lucky to have your brother sworn in as Lord of Meraholmer, Lord Stalwart. Not a lot of beasts could claim that honour, me included."
The cup almost fell out of Lord Stalwart's paw, and his face contorted for a while, though he shifted back into his calm look almost instantly. Sverker understood the surprise well. Thordan may have been a beast given to logic and deduction, but giving away his main power base to a random knight was unprecedented - not least when there were other beasts, every one more influential than the last, who desired the position. Gustav Strandsor must be boiling with rage right now.
"I was not aware that this had happened." Lorcan sipped his tea, seeking some sort of calmness though this did not seem possible with a cup with no sugar (or milk, for that matter). The Trielian may have been quick to regain his composure, but Sverker could have sworn that he could have bitten off his twin's head right there and then if he had only been there.
"You need not be so shocked, Lord Lorcan." Sverker attempted to salvage what was left of the parley. "Sure, the new Lord of Meraholmer turned out to be your brother, and my grand-uncle Niels was chosen to be King of Otharn-"
Lorcan Stalwart, Skipper of the Arnet Otterguard choked on his tea in full view of his troops - not to death, though. Another parley, another incident. What could go wrong will go wrong, it seems.
KALDOS, LORDSHIP OF KALDOS, KINGDOM OF DRAVANIA
Eavesdropping was never an easy task for the large and burly Alfyn Stalwart, so he would be glad there was Sigrun Swalestrom to teach him.
The ottermaid gestured at a large pillar. "Just stand there and don't do anything, and you'll hear everything."
"Oh. Just why are you helping me listen to your brother's little secrets anyway?"
"Well, Alfyn, Thordan hasn't been, you know, Thordan. Something seemed to have changed him."
"Must have been the kingship," Alfyn spat. "Look. I may not approve of Thordan rejecting the crown, but which fool had the idea to give it to him in the first place?"
Before he could wait for an answer, footsteps rang out from the other side of the hallway.
"To the pillar! Now!" Both otters slinked off into the shadows as the now familiar figures of two mustelids entered the hallway.
The first was a young weasel, with his diminutive stature and brown fur, and he seemed quite jumpy and energetic, like he had not shut his mouth in months, if not seasons. He was talking to the second figure, a taller otter in white healer robes, with his look indicating that his sole job in the world was to allow other beasts to cry on his shoulder, and not a promised king to a nascent kingdom. Though Egil is yet the same, Thordan had changed.
"So now let me get my facts straight," moaned the otterlord. "Your father told you to befriend me for the sake of all verminkind?"
"Exactly." Egil probably knew that Thordan was quickly seeping into a bad mood, so he seemed to be less talkative than he already was. Where did he learn this tact, anyway? Alfyn was about to reveal himself when he saw Sigrun gesturing frantically. This is not the time to move yet.
"To put it simply, I am asked to become a lord, a king, and somebeast far more important. All while two of my kin lay dead, and the entire world is at war. You did not intend to come to confess your intentions, solely, do you?
The two stopped walking as the weasel's brain scrambled for a response. Alfyn could see full well that the nature of Thordan and Egil's relationship had changed. But where? But why? A quick glance over his shoulder indicated that Sigrun wanted to ask the same questions.
The time came for Egil to sigh. "I wish to leave your service for a while. As I said before, my mission is to befriend you in the hopes that you will keep woodlander and vermin balanced, and you did so more than every lord that came before you." He took a deep breath, and continued. "But now that Alfyn's Lord, I just don't know. You see, Trielians don't really like vermin. They just cage 'em up and force them to - ya know the rest." The accent that Egil picked up from seafaring vermin seemed to surface with the ferocity of the tides. "Ya see, no vermin haz ter werry 'bout dat if yarr Lord, but dey won't like anybeast who mistreats dem. I fear -" The weasel held back a sob as his accent faded. "I fear that the fragile beast would be ruined right under your nose, so I think I need to go with Alfyn. Back to Raevsvakt."
Thordan scratched his ears. "Is it because of the establishments back there?" If the otterlord was expecting a laugh, he received none, and he only produced a sigh in return.
"Very well. I hope Alfyn agrees to take you. Though I have to say that leaving me alone to face the entire might of Southsward is the cruelest thing that you have ever done to me. I hope that makes you happy - and your father as well."
Nobeast in the room moved a muscle as a dejected Thordan Swalestrom walked out of the room they were in. That is, until Sigrun Swalestrom decides that it would be the best of times to tap the confused weasel on the shoulder.
Egil gasped to see that not one, but two creatures were listening to the entire conversation, but the trio soon melted to form another one.
"Thordan has changed. A lot." Egil complained. "Kingship has not been well on him."
"That would be my fault," sighed Sigrun. "I was stupid enough to think that Thordan would make a great king. He would, but he would function much, much better if he wanted to be king."
"So it was your fault!" The weasel's face flickered with the slightest semblance of rage. "Honestly, with you two rambling about Thordan getting his crown, you two should marry and get crowns for yourselves!"
"Well, Lady Sigrun here is unmarried as of yet, and I'm set to marry Lady Bellamy Swalestrom after the war. Lorcan says that I'm a tool for peace just as a tool for war, but I don't really agree with him."
The three stood in silence for a while until Sigrun spoke to the tall otter. "So are you going to allow Egil here into your service?"
"That depends on what he plans to do with me. I can't let him order me what to do, can I?"
"I can promise you that that will not happen, Lord Stalwart." Egil bowed. "I hope you see that I am here to advise you. After all, I was born in Raevsvakt, and I know the folk back there. Especially the vermin."
"Well, rest assured that I will not force the customs that I was born with onto my lordship." Alfyn attempted a smile as he continued to speak, though it must have came out like an awkward scowl. "You will have to make do with a purely advisory role until I give another order. Understood?"
"I understand." Egil's ears stooped downward as he changed the subject. "But what about Thordan? Won't he think that I abandoned him by my own will, or something else that is not true?"
"Leave Thordan to me." Sigrun chose to intercede. "I can assure you that he will be back to normal in no time."
Alfyn wondered if the lady knew what she was talking about.
HOLMINSTER, CROWNLANDS, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
"Does it feel good to be back?"
Altayras always has trouble thinking before speaking, but this would be the first major misstep forward the young squirrel made on campaign. With no Denebas or Vega to guide him, it seemed almost twice as likely to make mistakes.
The beast being asked was Erlend Swalestrom, who had just lost his paramour and son due to the Southards. They will, of course, pay for all this, but not now.
"No, it does not feel good to be back, Altayras." The normally calm otterking seemed to be holding back his anger the whole time. He was a more pleasant beast to get along in previous seasons, but everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong had went wrong for Erlend.
"I apologise for the comment." Altayras said as he sat down across the table. "I do not know how it is to lose a beast that I watched grow up."
"I can handle it." Erlend said almost without a shred of emotion. "If Skipper Becker can handle it, I can!"
Altayras had happened upon Erlend hastily scribbling a few letters just minutes ago, and (wrongfully) decided to initiate a conversation. "Who are these letters for?"
"One is for my son, the second for my daughter, and the third is for a certain vermin banker which I owe a lot to," Erlend tersely said as he put down his quill - and stared into Altayras' eyes without warning, to which he gave the same reaction.
The otter gave out a hollow laugh, but there seemed to be genuine mirth in it at the end. "Altayras, from the moment we met in Raevsvakt, I've always likened you to Sigurd." He paused for a while, reaching for his spear. Heavensward, it was called, and it was a true weapon indeed.
"This is for you, young one. I don't think my days wielding it will last long, so I would rather give this to someone that actually wants it. You see, Sigurd likes swords and Thordan does not get himself into combat, so here. Take it."
Altayras did so, reaching for the spear. The hooks on the spear made it more halberd than spear, but the Parmans called it a roncone, whatever that meant.
The weapon itself was well-balanced for both otter and squirrel, but the focal point was that the spear tip was really not that simple. Altayras knew a good weapon when he saw one, but this was the best spear he had ever set his eyes upon. There was no jewellery, no adornments - not even a single piece of gold or silver. But the speartip, the blade, was forged out of iron from the heavens themselves.
It was a spear good for a king.
"Use it well," said Erlend, smiling for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. "Do not simply wield it, but become it. Let the spear become a manifestation of your will."
"I understand."
The moment was swiftly interrupted by a mouse scrambling into the tent that held the two nobles. The otter and the squirrel both turned their heads towards the intruder as he caught his breath.
"The Southards are here!"
Altayras scrambled for his armour while Erlend calmly walked towards his own equipment, him having arrived in the camp in mostly full armour.
Donning his helmet in the first time since Raevsvakt, Erlend sighed.
"It ends here, brother. One way or another, it ends."
A/N: This is one long chapter indeed! I have a feeling that five-segment chapters will become the norm from now on. Even though they won't likely be as common as we want them to be...
But as always, review responses first!
Sebias: Yes! He didn't take the crown! When did it occur to your mind that Thordan would actively seek responsibility? Well, let's just hope that he can produce some improved virtues and make a great king, shall we?
Grey: Niels. Yes. Not the best candidate for a conventional royal candidate, but you get the idea. Parmans want weak kings... Thordan refusing the crown was not really unexpected, but oh well. Yeah, last chapter was a rough chapter for Thordan. Everything just seemed too taxing on our young otter's mind. Let's hope that he improves. Unlike Thordan, Alfyn represents a traditional warrior Islebeast Lord, so anything could happen under his rule. The Waycaster reunion is actually the worst scene I have written (according to myself) for all the reasons you have mentioned. But anyway, any chapter with Skuli in it is a good chapter! And momentum is still being built up...
After five whole chapters of character development, political intrigue and magic seer stuff, we finally head back into the (relatively) mundane war. And I sometimes feel that I focus on some characters too much or too little… though that isn't much of a problem.
Chapter 24 (Cold Salvation) will be up on 18/19 September!