Review responses for my devoted fanbase!
Grey: Yeah, I don't think anyone would like Lorcan after that conversation. But such was reality in bygone times - love will be sacrificed for duty. And the hares thing... ha! More reason to hate on Somerled! Yay! Who doesn't like that? Heavensward is cool indeed, but not to the point to sleeping with it. Fandaniel and Igeyorhm - oh, sorry. Doga and Unei plot the demise of shrews... considering where I brought the names from, that is an incredibly rare sentence.\
Keva: If everything goes through as planned... the last time that happened was all too long ago. Garrion had to die somewhen - TBBU limits me again. Bertvar and Furgly! What are they up to? See the next chapter of The Unbroken for details! If it ever comes out, that is.
Abe: Multiverses, baby! Lorcan doing a dirty joke of all otters... Nothing can really be expected nowadays, right? Lots of Morag stuff... Morag being raised by Somerled is a factor in her brattiness of sorts, but that may change later... Yes. I do have a problem with Becker's sons. All three of them. Or rather, Jade does. Have to make things canon, you know. Finally, the Watershard! Doga and Unei! Warrior and assassin! Twin banes of shrews! Again, read The Unbroken!
Seb: Urgh. Arranged marriages. Awkward stuff. Especially when it has been revealed that Alfyn had a daughter with somebeast else before... and congrats for being the only reviewer to point out Becker's assault! Wait. You saying that I can write emotion? How can this be? Oh, and thanks for lending me your world. I appeciate it very much! Now... back to Discord. Plotting ensues!
Thunderer
GYSTRA, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
"So… why do you need me anyway?" Denebas crossed his arms at the sight of what his subordinates have brought in.
Captain Bodvar Waycaster and his cronies were not the surprising bit. After all, Denebas had went deep into enemy territory to collect him.
The surprising bit was Thordan Swalestrom popping out of nowhere.
"Er… take a seat." Thordan plopped down into a couch at Denebas' request. He looked decidedly worse for wear. His eyes seemed dull and lightless, and who did that to his jaw had all but ensured that no female would look at him longingly - his tongue lolled out from his mouth like a worm for a start. Not that Thordan would care about maids.
Bodvar and Valdas had done the same. The room they were in was quite wide for a one-person bedroom in one of Gystra's best inns, and there was enough space to fit all eleven beasts. There were the three Southards who failed to behave like prisoners, the remaining six Borellers who had grown listless and bored, and a faltering king.
"I need you to explain dueling law. Bo- Captain Bodvar here has challenged my to a duel, or something something something. Is that legal anyways?"
"Well…" Thordan rubbed his chin. "Duelling is banned in Southsward."
"Well… but the challenge is technically offered in Dravania, and King Thordan did not ban beasts killing each other for more civilized reasons, did he?"
"Well… the offense of duelling was banned in Southsward in around 620 Post Fundammenta. Far after the last King of Dravania dropped the title, in fact, but can a common soldier challenge a king?" Thordan's brows closed together, looking hopefully at Denebas.
The squirrel couldn't find anything to comfort him. "Sorry, Your Majesty, but there is no evidence for that being disallowed by law and custom both."
"Never mind. And just call me Thordan." Thordan looked at the Southard captain despairingly.
"Well… if you refuse a duel, you have no honour. Plain and simple." Bodvar smirked.
"You know an awful lot about honour and duelling for a Southard." Denebas rolled his eyes as he shifted into a more comfortable position.
"You know an awful lot about peace for a Trielian, little lord." The otter sneered. "Besides, I'm half Dravanian, though Thordan here is not my king - not in a million seasons, not even when the earth beneath me cracks into pieces."
"Well, I think I can take Thordan's place!" Denebas raised a paw. "So much for peace - traitors like you deserve nothing but the sword."
"What he does is legal, right Bodvar?" Thordan cocked his head to the other otter.
"Yes. According to what I was taught, sometimes a capable warrior may fight in the name and honour of a clearly outclassed friend."
Thordan paid no heed to that last insult. "Very well. Just when are we doing this?"
KALDOS, KINGDOM OF DRAVANIA
Becker remembered the threat he made to Lord Alfyn about the catapults, and he smiled. It was funny for the Dravanians by then, but in hindsight, it became downright hilarious.
He had catapults, alright. Loaded on his ships, they made a concerted effort to destroy as many as Lord Lorcan's ships as possible.
Of course, the defenders tried to sally out, tried to cause as much damage as possible.
That was when the hilarious part kicked in - the punchlines were siege towers, four of them, each of them taller than the city walls themselves.
Now Becker could just sit in a chair and watch as the defenders scramble to their positions. Alfyn Stalwart was there, ordering about all ten of the defenders. He could be expected to be led to Floret a prisoner if he was lucky.
A sizzling found filled the air, and an ashen smell as well! The tower was on fire!
"Do not panic! We're almost to the walls!" Becker shouted at his captains. But, of course, they were frightened, and frightened beasts could be too panicked to follow orders.
And above all else, terror was contagious.
Within a few seconds, all the beasts in the hold were simply fleeing, despite Becker's orders. The smell of panic went paw in paw with that of burning wood, and soon Becker was forced to make a hasty retreat as well.
After too much coughing and sputtering, Becker wandered up into the open air. The tower could be saved, yes, though it would take much more experienced siege engineers than what he had. He gasped at the sight of a second tower burning, and a hare holding a spear and a lit lamp - clearly the tool used to set the siege equipment alight.
The hare turned, and saw the otterlord, and Becker could have sworn that he almost dropped both objects. In surprise at being discovered, perhaps?
Then the hare ran.
Becker brushed off the ash on his armour, as he sat down on the grass. Cowardly hare. One day you'll be thrust into a real fight.
DOMA, LORDSHIP OF DOMA
Family fights were not a rare occurrence in Doma.
"Oh. So you're going against Lord Canute's law by taking your own portion of the Lordship?" Sverker finally had enough of his brother pushing him around, and went to the point.
"Grandfather broke tradition, and King Thordan declared his law illegal anyways!" Bertil put a grip on his spear as Harald reached for his sword. The hedgehog had never held a weapon after Raevsvakt, though if Harald tried doing something to Lord Sverker, he could count himself lucky if he got off with a 'mere' stab to the throat.
"Enough! Both of you!" Lord Valdemar shouted, and the squabbling stopped for now. "I have not decided yet, but both of you will get your dues."
"But-" Sverker piped up.
"Speak a second time, and I shall send you to the Shieldbrothers." After his ambitions for Niels had been quashed by Lorelei's sudden arrival, and Corrado taking care of Guido Aldabreschi faster than he had expected, he somehow became more irascible than expected. Were it not for Sverker reining him in, Bertil would have lost his temper, job and perhaps life at the spot.
"My father had long dreamed of being King of Parma, though I have other plans for myself." Valdemar stood up from his seat. "The Parman throne is not worth it. An empty title for an empty-headed king. Beasts with more capability and ambition have tried to sit on that accursed chair, and all of them have lost much more than they could have gained." He turned to his sons. "I have plans for both of you. You two will travel to Floret, and make an attempt to secure an alliance with Southsward. Father planned for Sverker to marry Lady Bellamy, and I shall continue his plans, though in a different direction."
"Then why am I going as well?" Harald crossed his paws and inquired. Brutish and direct, he was as undiplomatic as a Crestworth can be. He was like Lord Canute the most, of all beasts, and perhaps this was why he and Lord Valdemar favoured him. Sverker, on the other paw, was closer to the Grandmaster of the Shieldbrothers and the current King of Parma.
"In case Lady Bellamy would not like a scatter-brained fool stuck to her for the rest of her life, you are there to remind her he is not my only son."
MUIR, LORDSHIP OF VARGO, KINGDOM OF OTHARN, HIGH KINGDOM OF PARMA
The seaside town of Muir had been a popular tourist destination for nobles. Long owned by House Skyward, it has benefited greatly from the patronage and fair rule of King Thordan - the second one. He had propped up a small seaside village to a proper resort and spa town, visited there once or twice, and managed to avoid taxing it into the very heavens.
And now, Corrado Truetide can finally enjoy a rest here, before he would meet Niels here, of course.
Warring was tiring, after all, and having his wife getting closer and closer to labour was still a worrying thought. Lorelei almost had to drag him here to relax a bit. Despite her overbearing nature, the favouritism she showed her elder son time and time again, and her inability to respect Niels, Corrado decided that she is still a beast of good ideas.
Corrado reached for his glass of cider. The taste was tart and sour, but it was a novel sensation - Eduard, glad to be back in his hometown, had introduced the beverage to him, and Corrado could not say that he hated it.
Near the sea, otterpups swam and everybeast else was busy building little castles made of sand. While not a good exercise militarily, Corrado remembered his grandfather teaching him how to build one. He had to wonder if he would get to teach any one of his sons how to play as well as rule.
"Lord Corrado!"
The otter half-expected that it was one of his mother's messengers calling him, but a turn to his head indicated that it is much worse. Normally, a fox was expected to be brown of fur if from the north, or to possess a body full of fur the colour of a setting sun.
But this one had fur the shade of night, and Corrado groaned.
"Isangrim, what now?" The fox seemed less smug than before - in fact, something seemed to have happened to him that made him seem more jumpy and alert than proud and calm. Corrado could only offer this most sincere thanks to the beast who changed the fox for the better. "Why does Mother call me this time? Did Grandfather leap up from his grave or something?"
"Well, good joke. I appreciate your sense of humour." The fox seemed panicky for a second. "But this is just an announcement."
"An announcement, huh?"
"King Guillame of Valnain is dead."
Corrado could only count himself lucky that he had nothing in his mouth. "What?"
"He perished in suspicous circumstances, and the Valnainer authorities are chasing after the killer as we speak."
"And I presume that killer stands before me, yes?" Corrado got to his footpaws.
"Wha-" Isangrim jumped. "This isn't last time, Corrado! It wasn't my crossbow or something!" The fox got close to Corrado and whispered. "They say he burned to death in his bedsheets. The entirety of Valnain is panicking right now."
Corrado gasped. How could a king die without even the slightest semblance of dignity? "Did he drop a candle or something?"
"There was no candle in the room." The smugness returned to spymaster's face. "One moment he was soundly asleep, the other he was burning alive, screaming for help."
"Then Great Seasons have seen fit to punish him for his many transgressions, by way of the flames. Any other news?"
"Well… Raimon of Aldernan has been sighted in Arnet - they say he is trying to set himself up with the widowed Avelyn Stalwart."
"Good." At least he has stopped chasing a Swalestrom.
"And your mother's set off for Thavnair."
"What?" Corrado almost spilled his drink. "She didn't tell me about it."
"Well, considering that you are a strong, independent, full-grown beast, you can take care of yourself, right?" Isangrim smirked. "Oh, and expect a corpse to be delivered to you soon. Trust me. You'll love it."
BURELAS, DUCHY OF BURELAS, KINGDOM OF TRIEL
Bride and groom strode up to the altar, the witnesses being up there already.
Altayras looked at his left. Morag certainly looked confident enough, though he could assume that she was nervous as well. After all, rampaging Southard army or not, the marriage had to go through before Southsward could stop it in any peace treaty, justified or not.
Duke Domnall is expected to die without an heir, and the Deilart bloodline had to continue through his niece. Even before Duke Somerled's lifetime, the threat that Southard or Triel would annex the border territory could be rendered true.
Clothed in white like a proper Trielian bride, the sole Boreller characteristic left to the bride was a rue wreath, worn on her neck - a symbol of innocence. Altayras did not know exactly how innocent she exactly was - rumours of her being more than friendly with her vermin were buzzing all across Deilart - but she had slept with no squirrel, and that was enough for Altayras.
Morag did not seem to enjoy tormenting him. 'Half-vermin' was a derogatory term for Borellers used from way back when, due to them not being 'civilised' enough to be 'proper' woodlanders. Altayras' future wife never used this term once - at least not in front of him. It could be a sign of respect, a product with her friendship with Vega, or her 'liking' of vermin.
It does not matter.
Exchanging paws, the spouses-to-be stood motionlessly as King Garmund walked to their side. He was the officiator, and their king as well - it would do them well not to speak.
With a nod by the mouseking, the silence was broken.
"Both of us have come here, willingly and without constraint by forces alien to us." Boreller weddings were vastly different to all those in the world - for instance, vows were not used.
Then there was the crowning. A visitor may have thought that King Garmund would not have liked it, but traditions have to be kept. Besides, he needed every single drop of Boreller support to keep the war floating. Altayras managed to clinch a compromise for wooden crowns to be used instead of the traditional one made of metal, and they say Garmund was appeased.
Both squirrels, red and grey, knelt on both footpaws as their king reached for the wooden bands. They have been carved elaborately by the best of carpenters, though no names were etched on them (just to make them easily reusable). "Great Seasons, crown them with glory and honour as husband and wife." Altayras felt the smooth wood make contact with his headfur.
Morag stood up, and her husband followed, mentally cursing for forgetting his cue. He looked around the room. Denebas was nowhere to be seen - a pity, while Vega and Duke Domnall smiled with pride - or what looked like pride.
Further study of their expressions would be impossible, as Morag took the liberty to embrace him. Not doing the same thing would not be polite, so Altayras put his paws around her waist, and closed their eyes as their lips met. It was not a perfect kiss, but that was enough. They were husband and wife, after all, and that was what mattered. Love would have to wait.
The war was lost, Denebas was far, far away, and Altayras had married a traditional enemy, but all could still be well.
FLORET, CROWNLANDS, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
Bellamy dropped the letter. Her mother was dead.
Corrado Truetide's written message indicated that she lost the will to live on her journey to Vargo, though nothing could be proven yet. All could have happened. A sudden case of food poisoning, or even a dagger in the neck. The otterlord has promised to deliver both her body and her son's to Floret, though it may just be some Parman lie.
The lady collapsed into her seat. Father and Garrion were away fighting, all three of her cousins have fought against her country at some point, and one of them has crowned himself, or so the rumours say. Now her mother has followed her other brothers to the grave.
When she finally felt the tears dripping onto her dress, she had curled herself into a ball, reliving memories that were long gone, and sobbing like there was no tomorrow.
She wanted to see those responsible for so much tragedy to perish - to be ground up like pepper and ashes scattered to the wind, never to rest in peace - but who could she blame? Southsward started this whole mess, and the Trielians have lost just as much as she had.
She sighed, and wiped her tears, her sobs finally drawing to a close. Now was a time of strength, not weakness.
GYSTRA, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
Captain Bodvar tested his weapon with a mock swing. The tuck-blade was a beautiful thing, edgeless, it may have been, but it was sharply pointed - very much so. Lord Denebas had loaned him this blade, and it was agreed that he would have it back after all was done.
Just on the safe side, Thordan had asked for the combatants to stop after first blood. Bodvar had to agree. Though the squirrel lordling had been trained in the art of dueling, Bodvar had seen more fighting than the squirrel could imagine.
The sword was designed to rip through mail as a normal knife did with butter, though both combatants were to be unarmoured - voluntary decisions from both of them. After all, even the thickest of plate has gaps that can be stabbed through.
A deep cough blasted through the air. That was Thordan Swalestrom, of course, with his disfigured jaw and tired look. Bodvar pitied him a little. A little.
The otter 'king' was holding a piece of scrap paper in his paw, which was his scrambled copy of the traditional duelling rules and announcements and other boring things which seemed to be fitting for a boring beast.
"Bod-" Thordan shouted, and winced within a second. "Captain Bodvar Waycaster shall challenge Lord Denebas Burelas, to a duel to first blood. You may begin!"
The squirrel was clearly waiting for Thordan to stop, as he rushed forward like a shark - and immediately stopped, just barely out of range.
Bodvar took a slight step left, and Denebas followed, gliding towards his left and twirling his blade. The otter suddenly cocked up his own sword, and placed it in a guarding position.
Everything was magnified. The sound of the crowd who gathered around the scene. The nervous breathing of Thordan. The tense stares of his brother and Pickner.
He feigned a stumble, and Denebas fell into the trap almost in an instant - like a moth to a bright flame, even. Taking a slightly offensive stance at the last moment, Bodvar tensed to meet Denebas' attack -
And he rolled away, clipping the squirrel's footpaw in the process. By the time Denebas was able to regain his composure, Bodvar had a footpaw on his blade, while his own was pointed at the squirrel's neck.
The lord had expected a duel.
Bodvar gave him a fight.
A/N: Big F for Denebas.
Sverker and Harald may give one the impression of being expies of Jeefra and Pitru from High Rhulain - and you're not wrong. They're much more competent, of course, and they have their roles to play. Not big ones, but roles indeed.
I kinda botched the Bellamy segment, but this is one of those hard-to-write grief scenes. I don't really have a grasp on them, but I hope I handled it well anyways. I hope.
Chapter 41 (Defender of the Realm) will be up on 1/2 December!
N/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS! NARRATOR'S NOTES JUST FOR TODAY!