A/N: This chapter was harder to write than the last two, mostly because I was expecting a to take a break the week I wrote it. But the winds of fate keep blowing me back…
Review responses here!
Grey 34: Nice summary of the chapter, Grey! Sudden Sibling Death Syndrome is a real threat to this world... I hope Sigrun doesn't suffer it again.
Keva 34: Rubadub is a nice name for the river, but it's the boat which is called the Rubadub. It's a Bravely Second reference, by the way. Bodvar's not good with names and stuff.
Sebias 33: A long one! Niels being crowned will definitely affect the war - Parma is going to have a king again! Nope, Halric has never been referenced or mentioned yet - he's new. Let us hope nothing happens to him. Becker... yeah. Making a fool of oneself is a Swalestrom hereditary trait, it seems. (Will he get the last laugh?) The Wheel of Fate spins too fast for any normal beast to follow, and Young Thordan found himself at the top. But he's a prisoner of Southard forces, and all could only go downhill from here... and the other Thordan can 'control his corpse'! Or, more accurately, his clone body. Medieval beasts won't understand modern science, however, so Old Thordan had to make a somewhat inaccurate metaphor. Oh, and no more Lorelei-slapping in the foreseeable future. I promise.
Shattered
KURBURG, KINGDOM OF OTHARN, HIGH KINGDOM OF PARMA
Lord Valdemar expected Niels to follow his orders - no, not orders. He was King of Otharn, after all. Lord Valdemar expected Niels to follow his advice.
Niels liked his nephews, after all. He was almost completely devoid of hatred, so a good diplomat he would become, if he would take some time off his pursuit of the vast array of knowledge that he did not already possess.
"If you were me, what would you intend to do to Queen Lorelei and her sons?" Niels' gentle voice rang through Valdemar's ears like a pleasant vielle piece. The otter sat on his throne - the exact throne that had evaded his father through some kind of sorcery.
Valdemar knew this could be a trap - after all, Niels raised the fruits of Lorelei's womb while she was attempting to forsake her duties as a parent. But Niels is incapable of trapping those he shared blood with. Of that, Valdemar was certain.
"Well, I do not intend to do much." At least they could have their lives intact. "Well, I could consider King Thordan's Pragmatic Sanction unlawful, null and void, then revoke everything from her - except Garlesca proper, of course. Oh, Corrado can keep what little he owns, and Thordan… well, the pup would be glad to be kept at your side."
"Let's just say that my plans for Thordan is similar to yours, though he would actually love my little creation. As for Lorelei, she could be a problem-"
"Since when have I become a problem?" A shrill, violent voice ripped through the air. It was death, death that entered, death and rage.
It was HER.
"Ah, you have seen fit to join us." Niels was utterly nonplussed by the arrival of Queen Lorelei. "You were not there when I was crowned…" His voice was slow, but seemed to hide some kind of distaste.
"We were busy defeating the Valeran League." The otterqueen simply said. She was ambitious, Valdemar gave her that. Fortunately, her son was one of those beasts that wanted nothing to do with the Parman throne, and it could be deduced that both his half-brothers were of the same sort, though for different reasons. "All the while you did nothing." Lorelei was not one of those beasts. Thordan had groomed her well, it seemed, well enough to defy kings and be crowned queens.
"The Valerans can be handled with a bit of caution, Your Highness." Valdemar was in no mood for conciliatory planning, but he knew he should. "Dealing with them by violence is not the best of strategies, and the fact that you did that without your king's permission is quite surprising, to say the least."
"Oh, we dealt with them anyways. And I am sure that King Niels would not mind me defeating them completely, would I?" Lorelei offered a challenge. Valdemar's father Lorelei's have agreed that politics is like a card game rather than dice, in that skill and luck have to be used in conjunction. Niels may have had the latter, but he would have to rely on Valdemar (and only Valdemar) for help.
"I would not." Niels' face was stone before, but it was more like soft clay now. In fact, he was almost whimpering at the sight of the otterqueen. There was the old rumour that he was in love with his foster's daughter, though this reaction could be attributed to fear more than anything. To be fair, Valdemar was afraid of her as well - not a lot of ottermaids can be that thing.
"Then would it make sense if my son gets a reward for it?" Lorelei grinned like a fox trying to steal perpetually plotting against his brother, which makes sense, considering the fact that she's married to one.
"What do you desire for him?" He seemed likely to agree to any request of hers, which is only natural, since the child was his responsibility, and he ended up as spoiled as a fat weasel under his care.
Before Valdemar could voice his objections, Lorelei's smile muted. Granted, it was still a smile, but this one was more 'caring mother' than 'scheming queen'. "The Viceroyalty of Ilsadia."
"Well, that can certainly be arranged." Valdemar moved to speak, but Niels silenced him with a wave of his paw. "But I am merely King of Otharn, and I have no jurisdiction about matters west of Vargo. I fear that I would have to be crowned in Old Parma before that request can be actually allowed."
"I think I can do that." Lorelei may have looked stunned and flummoxed, but Valdemar was sure that she was unsure of her scheme's effectiveness. Finally.
"But then, Lord Valdemar's going as well, and we cannot risk you two getting into fights every step of the way. Can you embrace her as a gesture of peace, your Lordship?"
"I can do that." With that, he went forth and embraced the otterqueen with all the warmth of a wet blanket. But before she broke free of his grasp, he whispered in her ear.
"Great Seasons grant that I may not die before you are brought to nothing."
KALDOS, KINGDOM OF DRAVANIA
Swords flew and shields flailed as Lord Becker calmly waltzed into the halls of Castle Koerthas.
Around him, beasts were fighting and dying, but he stood. His weapon was always ready, of course, and those of his guards were as well.
But there was no need for the Skipper to fight. After all, four out of nine corpses were Trielians, and the other five were Dravain.
In front of Becker, beasts were lying on the floor, swords in front of their necks. They have seen fit to surrender - a wise choice, compared to being made into a bloody pulp.
Foremost amongst the swordbearers was Lord Rueford, who managed to wrestle a Trielian captain to the ground, the otter grunting in pain as a blade was pointed at his exposed jugular.
"Where is your superior?" Spittle dropped from Rueford's mouth as he waited for the other otter's response.
"H-he fled! Into the fort!" Lorcan Stalwart was an elusive eel, but was he a coward? Becker had yet to know the other skipper, but what he knew told him that the answer to his question was likely a 'yes'.
Becker found himself stretching the already opened gates further as he stepped in the fort like a pirate would have done. He marched past suits of armour, spare pairs of weapons that the guards have failed to reach in time, and a few portraits of Erlend Swalestrom that made him think of his Godred. He tried not to think of him that much after his death in Parma, though the wine helped, he was not successful when he needed success the most.
But tears can wait, and Lorcan Stalwart cannot.
Pushing the double doors of the hall open, Becker saw nothing. No corpses, no blood, not even the sight of a rudder. Rushing forward to check if his eyes deceived him, a letter caught his eyesight. Its placement was too obvious for it to be some hidden word.
Reaching out, Becker picked up the document. On top of the letter stood a seal - a shell on a coat of arms. The House Stalwart seal was ripped off as Becker pulled out its contents roughly.
Dear Lord Becker Swalestrom, Lord Skipper of the Southsward Otterguard
If you are reading this, I am on a barge towards the other coast of Kaldos.
This island was guarded securely, barricaded, and thought secure. It, apparently, is not.
I may not know what it is for a father to lose his child, though as a new father, this thought terrifies me. For you to lose two is a tragedy beyond all understanding, and to lose your brother as well is a calamity in total. I cannot imagine the sorrow you feel.
Nobeast of Trielian stock argued for peace between the kingdoms more than me, but I see your reasoning to start this war - for you, it is a chance to do the right thing, though extreme this measure may be. It is somehow an abrupt rain which clears a musty scent from the air. The suffering that my countrybeasts have caused, that of King Garmund and Duke Somerled in particular, are regrettable, and should have been averted. I regret their many, many transgressions, and hope that you accept my apology.
I apologise for my compatriots' behaviour towards you in their first 'parley', if it can be called that. They were seeking a confrontation, and they received it. Though nobeast here is in the right, I must acknowledge that your soldiers fight for what they consider a just cause.
But we know this war has to end somewhere. All realms welcome peace, as they say, and this war is bleeding both our proud nations dry of gold and beastpower. Perhaps a marriage pact between your daughter Bellamy and my brother would be welcome… but if you desire it not, that can be cancelled by your will.
Another consequence of the war would be the release of Thordan Stalestrom, called by his supporters King of Dravania and your nephew. It is without doubt that his disappearance is your doing. He is the best of friends and has the makings of a great lord, so I beg for his release for your brother's sake.
There are many paths we can go, but you seem to guide your fate forth, while I merely accept it, hoping the future would change for the better.
For this, I admire you. May your heart and mind guide you forth.
Yours sincerely,
Lorcan Stalwart, Lord Skipper of the Triel Otterguard
Putting down the letter, Becker sat down in a conveniently placed chair. Lorcan Stalwart may not be brave, but at least he was born well, and raised well too. The lord decided that he would consider the Trielian's proposals seriously.
Bellamy would object, of course. Unlike his brother, Lord Alfyn Stalwart was not the most well-mannered of beasts. He could easily grow to become as bad as the mouseking he serves under, though something prevented that. She will do her duty, though. Becker would make sure of that.
As for Thordan, Becker should have not taken him away - not without a guarantee from Phronesis that he would be treated well. But it was too late - Thordan was in Viksten the last time Phronesis sent a bird, and the slow pace could mean anything. He could have been sleeping on silk, or caged like a woodpigeon, but a prisoner is still a prisoner.
But where is the boy now?
TARALIS, BALSAMU, KINGDOM OF PARMA
Hey, ho, a fire does burn;
Cold is the night for soldiers.
As Eduard played on and on, Corrado had to smile for his victory. He defeated Guido Aldabreschi! The same beast who beat back the Parman tide!
And nothing can be done without Sir Arn Skulason. The weasel sat across him, carefully enjoying his meal. Arn was always a special one, it can be seen. The weasel had a more than mighty grasp on the workings of both fighting on land and sea, and he was a great leader to his followers, being never devoid of charisma.
Soldiers would die for Corrado, but they would live for Arn.
Under the gates in the shadow of the city
Sleep well, if you have no place to sleep
No one asks where and where you sleep
And cold is the night for soldiers.
"So… where are you headed to next?" Corrado asked. The dinner the two beasts, woodlander and vermin, shared was a muted affair - mere soup, bread, and vegetables, with a helping of woodpigeon, but a warm meal and the good Parman damson Corrado had brought with him prove a boon for any empty stomach.
Hey, ho, a fire does burn;
Cold is the night for soldiers.
Arn swallowed his mouthful of soup-drenched bread. "To the mainland. Probably Vargo, then I'll take a sharp turn and answer the calling of a new contract."
Follow the bottle, but don't drink too much
Your dice are good, but the game is awry
Spit in the ashes and watch for your foe
For cold is the night for soldiers.
Seeing the silence of the otterlord in front of him, the weasel decided to change topics. "Your bard's good."
Hey, ho, a fire does burn;
Cold is the night for soldiers.
"Good for a king, in fact," the otterlord poured himself another goblet. "But I got him first. How're the ladies going?"
Leave not the 'friendly' sister too far
Only for warmth, for here and there
No one in the dark loses his face
But cold is the night for soldiers.
Arn almost spit everything his mouth could hold out. "My lord, I have sworn to be chaste until I marry, and I intend to keep this vow. I am not my brothers."
Hey, ho, a fire does burn;
Cold is the night for soldiers.
Corrado knew the difference between Arn and his siblings. While he had only met Eskil once, his brother knew Egil all too well, having been tragged into useless misadventures with him. "Ah, yes. Cecilia. You did tell me about her. I know she must be pretty, but how's she like?"
Go with the night before the morning mist rises
Only the fire glows dim and the stone pavement be silent
Leave nothing behind and forget what you saw
For the sun soon brings the soldiers.
"She's a lovely weaselmaid, and she's patient enough to wait for me." Arn paused for a long time, which probably meant that he should not say more. For good reason, in fact, Corrado was almost as lecherous as his grandfather back when he was younger, though he calmed down after marriage.
Hey, ho, a fire does burn;
Cold is the night for soldiers.
"Well, as a friendly request, please invite me to your wedding." Corrado reached out his paw, which was swiftly taken by the weasel.
Hey, ho, the fire's put out;
Soon the soldiers shall come.
"May we meet again."
DALAGAB, THE LIGHTNINGSHARD
The woodlander awoke to nothing.
He could barely feel anything, after being asleep for so, so long. But his eyes were opened soon, and they peered into a mirror.
The features on the other side of the glass were distinctly lapine - long ears, small eyes, and a less than pronounced snout and - was that hunger he felt?
That same mirror reflected a pine marten, female, evidently, who wore a look of rage, and more importantly, disbelief, as if she had changed looks somehow. The hare did, after all, but at least the marten was alluring.
Like a needle stabbing right into his head, he heard the echoes of a word. A name, perhaps? Halmarut. A name given by a mysterious, compelling voice. But he could remember nothing else. His memories were spotty, to say the least, during his long sleep, or coma, or whatever it was. Death itself? Probably so.
A third figure decided to show himself (it is supposed to be a him) behind the two, causing a graceful turn from the still tired hare and a leap from the irate marten. The black fox was smiling as he caressed a statue of a wolf, made with the finest of glass. Halmarut had met this fox before. But where? He could only remember a joke, and a really large cake, but the other figments of his memories would have to wait.
"Why?" The vermin shrieked. "Why am I a vermin? Why has this been done to me? Why am I having this disease?"
The fox sneered. "You two were given the best samples we have in our possession. You have a fine, strong body. And living is better than…" the black fox cocked his head. "The alternative, is it not?"
Before the beast that was called Halmarut could react, the marten flung herself at the fox, claws unsheathed and screeching like some wildcat stubbing a toeclaw.
The fox quickly flung himself away, then the glass figurine glowed. Scarcely a second had passed when the verminmaid was encased in a layer of ice, with her eyes frantically moving from side to side, but her body failed to respond.
Halmarut's mouth quickly loosened, and he tried to swallow, only for his muscles to fail to respond. The fox spoke. "You will adapt, proud one. The soul bends the body, but the body bends the mind. You are adapting to this body, or we shall simply revoke it, or hand you over to your former kingdom." The marten's eyes spun as she tried to scream.
"You're killing her! Don't you know who we are, vermin? Obey me this instant!" The last command exited his mouth without him realising.
Flames surrounded the marten's face, and soon the vermin's head was free - but not her throat. "Will you submit to the beasts who fished you out from Hellgates?"
Her hoarse voice creaked. "I will." More flames suddenly appeared, and soon she was free.
"Do you two not remember being dead?" The fox asked, as if pondering a rhetorical question from a book of philosophy. "Do you two know the preciousness of life? You two, Arbiter and Phantasm, were not, then you two were. Think of all others, whose souls lie in Hellgates, tortured by Vulpuz, and beyond our salvation." The word salvation seemed to resonate a bit in Igeyorhm's mind, but she soon slunk back into her defeated countenance.
"I am Emmeroloth, the Darkening Cloud. Welcome to the Heaven's Ward. Welcome to your second chances. Welcome to life."
"What for?" Halmarut let his tongue loose. "I could have died a king, but now I live a hare. For what do you want my soul be bound to this world?"
"For bridging the gap. Now, Halmarut, you need food more than all else, which we have plenty." The fox turned his head towards the clearly unfocused marten. "Oh, and you go find Fandaniel. Black stoat. Looks more evil than I do somehow. He'll talk about your mission."
Arn's slowly becoming a major player, and a PoV as well! I hope you'll like more of him.
Oh, and guess what Fandaniel's mission is!
Chapter 36 (Faith in Our Fury) will be up on 27/28 November!