Calling
LEAMONDE, KINGDOM OF VALNAIN, HIGH KINGDOM OF PARMA
For Renart, time had always been an old enemy.
Of all his seasons, where he took advantage of events he could not control, and where he managed to hold on to power wherever he could. It would be hard for a mere vermin to gain a lordship anywhere in the world, but Renart managed as always.
But now, he had gambled his position away. Instead of being crowned King over Valnain, he had to witness the situation slip out of his paws ever so slowly. That was the problem - it all happened too slowly, and he could salvage nothing.
"For all your smugness, you are not that sly." Lord Guido sneered. Renart had no idea if he was a Portmaster or a Lord Mayor, and he cared not.
"I suppose that is indeed the case." Renart took a deep breath, and had a tiny sip of wine. Guido had been trying to prod him into making a mistake ever since he had arrived, to varying degrees of failure.
What good would Raimon on the Valnainer throne do him? Valnainers know nothing of him. The only advantage the mouse could glean out of the whole muck was that Renart wasn't king.
The mouse laughed shrilly. "You are defeated, fox. We have scattered your hopes. Mayhaps you can try to plant your rump on a throne after thirty seasons or so."
The fox's smile faded, only to reappear into a laugh. "Perhaps I can try. Perhaps vermin can try. We try hard, we fail, we try again. We take from you and you regain what you have taken. But one day, you and your heroics will shiver and quake and our might - vermin might. For no matter how powerful your steel or how just your cause, there will be a time where it will be not enough, that you will slip and fall. For what you impose, we will overturn!"
As if the timing was right, the door was pushed open, revealing an otter, who did not look as young as Raimon, nor did he possess the scars of Maurice. Niels Crestworth, King of Otharn knew how to make an entrance.
"You!" Guido cried out.
"I would much rather skip the formalities, shameless traitor." For the first time in what seemed like forever, the otterking smiled for Renart to see. "It is a good idea on paper to come here, though Parman intelligence has its advantages."
"What have you done now?" Guido rose to his footpaws while Renart smiled yet again. Suddenly his wine tasted much sweeter.
"Nothing much. I merely paid this wonderful land a visit and convinced the Valnainer Assembly to vote for me as their new king. I will be absent from this land for most of my 'reign', and I am not known for strength. They love me, mouse, and you have no power over them anymore."
"How?"
"You forgot that you're not the only beast around here who can enter and exit realms as he desires. Now go away. To whatever realm that may house you. But remember this one thing." Niels looked right into Guido's eyes. "Where you go, Parma shall follow."
Guido took the hint and bravely fled, with Niels lodging himself in the mouse's empty seat. Then he collapsed with a sigh.
"That was quite the close shave." Renart remarked. "Your impression of King Thordan was all too impressive."
The king winked. "I learned from the very best."
FLORET, CROWNLANDS, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
"So it is decided," Lorcan sighed. "For a reduction of the indemnity by a quarter, and the cancellation of the war reparations, Orience goes to Southsward."
"That is what we have planned." Lord Becker nodded at Lorcan's proposal, while General Ralos followed suit. They seemed wary of asking too much of the Trielians, which was good. King Garmund shall surely be displeased at Lorcan's actions, having given Trielian territory away, but the less of Trielian finances sent to Southsward, the better. Gold is the oil that turns the wheel that is politics. And Vega Burelas had given her personal approval to marrying Prince Darian after a few pages of written persuasion from Lorcan himself. No need for a tournament from the Boreller maiden.
"Allow me to check the Treaty again." King Gideon took a big gulp of his wine. The squirrelking was a smug sort, not unlike Duke Randyll back home. But then, he had experience on his side, which Lorcan struggled to combat. Beasts may be killed, and gold may be squandered, knowledge is the best resource one might ever hope to possess.
"We, Garmund, by Seasons' Grace King of Triel does wish to make known to the world that his desire to create this everlasting peace between his realm and the Kingdom of Southsward." That, to Lorcan's knowledge, was a lie, though not for him to reveal. His king had often raved about reasserting their dominance on the world stage soon enough, and Lorcan could only hope that less blood shall be shed if it comes to that. "Whereas, we and some of our predecessors, Kings of Triel, have endeavoured to establish rights of rule or dominion or superiority over the realm of Southsward, whence dire conflicts of wars waged have afflicted for a long time the Kingdoms of Triel and Southsward: we, having regard to the slaughter, disasters, crimes, destruction and evils innumerable which, in the course of such wars, have repeatedly befallen the subjects of both realms, and to the wealth with which each realm, if united by the assurance of perpetual peace, might abound to their mutual advantage, thereby rendering them more secure against the hurtful efforts of those conspiring to rebel or to attack, whether from within or without-" The king coughed. "We will and grant by these presents, for us, our heirs and successors whatsoever, with the common advice, assent and consent of-" Within a second, the King of Southsward was grabbing at his throat, feebly wheezing and collapsing onto the floor.
"No!" Lorcan screamed.
"Somebeast help him!" Becker knelt in front of his liege and gently held his neck, hoping to do something, anything. But it was too late. The poison had taken effect. Blood flowed from his nose, mouth and even his eyes, and Lorcan could hear himself twitch, though not as much as the corpse of the once-king in front of him.
Sigrid's killer had struck once more and anyone could have been behind the act.
VARGO, LORDSHIP OF VARGO, KINGDOM OF OTHARN, HIGH KINGDOM OF PARMA
"You seem to be late." Skuli's smile was surprisingly absent when he looked at his son. The Southpaws were glad to be at home, and Arn possessed the presence of mind to return to his old house at once.
"I am, Father." Arn knew he made mistakes, and Skuli was willing to forgive him. But now was not the right time. For forgiveness, at least.
"Southsward got Egil and King Thordan!" Skuli fumed, while Arn cowered to the side. Knighthood does not signify the absence of fear, and it is perfectly normal to fear the ones closest to you. "Not only are my plans ruined, but one of us has been taken!"
"They will not kill Egil, father." Eskil was Skuli's firstborn, and he could boast that he was a better student than Skuli was a teacher. "They'll just force a ransom out, and Egil will be free."
"I know that!" The oldest weasel snapped, and it was Eskil's time to shiver with fear. "But if they just try to extort more than he is worth from us? What if he talks his way into the grave? Gates, I should never have tried to gamble on Erlend Swalestrom!"
"Father!" Arn shouted. "Egil can still be saved! If the Southards wanted him dead, then he would be dead already!"
Skuli forced a deep breath, then silently nodded. "You're right, son. The Southards have never been friends to us vermin, and banking on Young Thordan was a horrible miscalculation. At least King Niels has taken no action against us for now."
Before Arn could attempt to change the subject, Eskil had already decided to do it for his brother. "Arn's getting married."
"Oh! I forgot that!" Skuli was surprised, this time pleasantly. "I've heard good things about the maid. Know her father too."
Arn raised a question. "So, Father, are you fine with that?"
Skuli smiled. "I did promise you that you could marry anybeast you desire all those seasons before, and I will not break a promise."
"No, I meant the timing. I should have done it after the family's together, and-"
"Egil won't mind." Eskil put a paw on top of his brother's shoulder. "He'll be happy for you, so don't worry that much!"
"Eskil's right." Skuli finally smiled. "Treasure the happy moments. And I suppose you cannot let Lord Corrado down, can't you?"
"Huh?" Arn was puzzled as always.
"Some noble has to help us vermin, Thordan or not. Why not befriend his brother?"
FLORET, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
"Can you hear me? Anyone?"
Thordan was once again in his dreams - he could tell by him floating in that blasted void again. But this time there was a voice pestering him. It was too high to be Dagbert's, and not as hoarse as his grandfather's. To be honest, Thordan never heard this one before.
"Yes." Thordan responded. "You are heard, whoever you may be."
"Where I am?" The voice chuckled, his voice completely mirthless. Thordan tried to take a step back, only to slip back into the void, remembering too late that he wasn't standing on anything.. "I have been trapped here for Vulpuz knows how long. There, you see? Emptiness, as always. I feel right at home."
Thordan shook his head. "You don't seem to like home." The otter wished for somewhere to stand on, and within a second he was on a cracked platform, black as pitch. "Why are you even in my dream?"
"I saw the light in the distance, and the shadows you cast as you walked through." The voice still was no closer to Thordan than before. "My heart has been fractured, otter. I can do little."
"Then I'll help you." Thordan offered the voice a smile. It would be nice to perform one last act of kindness before Southsward disposes of him. "Whatever it takes."
"We shall become one then." Scarcely a second had passed when light, blinding light seeped into the void, and Thordan squinted. When his vision cleared, the platform was whole, with stained halves. The lighter half depicted a fox, unarmed, eyes closed and plummeting into the lower part of the circle. He was dressed in clothing that seemed to be too large for him, and he curled behind the other figure - a thin, handsome otter, holding a beautifully forged sword with a red-rubied pommel, with tendrils of shadow behind him that coalesced into a beast. His gaze was apprehensive, and he seemed to be resolute, even if he was on the darker half.
"Thank you, kind one." A figure walked into the complete circle, bathed in blinding light that seemed to dim over time. "I promise that I'll repay you once I will be able to." A closer observation revealed that the figure was a fox, with his eyes covered with a ragged cloth. It did not take long to see that he looked not the same from the one on the ground, as he was taller and thinner.
"What's your name, fox?" The otter asked, to which the fox sadly shook his head.
"I don't have one yet. They took mine from me. Can you give me one?"
Thordan gasped. "How can a name be taken from you?"
"My eyesight was not the only thing they wrenched away from me." The fox's voice was shaky.
"How about I give you a new name?" Thordan asked before mentally slapping himself. Surely there are better moments than this to interrupt?
The fox opened his mouth again. "That would be very kind of you, sir."
Thordan sighed in relief. "How does Erlend sound?"
"Erlend?"
"It was my father's name. He was a kind beast, and he cared about me. Sometimes." Though it would have been better for the both of us if he happened to show his affections more.
"Erlend. Erlend." The fox scratched his head. He seemed to know the name, for one reason or another.
"It was nice talking to you, Erlend. I'm Thordan, by the way. King Thordan of Dravania, whatever the Southards say."
"Thordan… Dravania…" Erlend the fox collapsed upon his knees as his voice trailed away.
ARNET, CROWNLANDS, KINGDOM OF TRIEL
Lord Valdemar Crestworth knew much of secrets, but not much of secret missions. Especially one he had undertaken without the knowledge of any of his peers or superiors.
But here he was, Arnet, capital of Triel. While is would be hard to deny that it was basically a copy of Southsward's Floret, it managed to better its rival, with its castles larger than any other in the Southern Realms.
And here he was, in front of the greatest king of the three kingdoms. "It is a genuine pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty."
"The pleasure is all mine, Lord Valdemar." King Garmund of Triel was an imposing giant of a mouse, not born that way like the Stalwart twins, but a byproduct of his warring lifestyle. "Now what are you here for?"
"An alliance?" Garmund was nonchalant towards the request. "I thought Parma frowned on our practices while keeping their obligations. Or had they decided that change was in order?"
"Parma can be shafted off to the side in the time being." Valdemar was speaking truth for once. "I come on Doman accord, and not for any 'greater good'."
"A private matter, I take it." Garmund was doing his best to ignore the otterlord - a situation Valdemar shall seek to remedy.
"Not so." Valdemar's voice was as firm as Garmund's. "Niels is not a strong beast, mentally or physically. King or slave, those who are born servile exist only to serve. But who he would serve is a mystery. Could it be Queen Lorelei down south, perhaps sealed with a marriage? Or could it be Lord Guido, ending a war that had plagued Parma for so long?"
"Be direct and tell me what you are implying, Lord Crestworth." Valdemar bit back the rest of his monologue. It shall seem that King Garmund was a beast more like him than first thought, who hated words and preferred action.
It was the directness of the action which happened to be the only difference between the two. While the Trielian king was a friend to his axe and all that stood in his way, preferring open war to the much less bloody (but more gruesome) business known as courtly intrigue. Valdemar was not direct in any sense of the world. The shadows were his abode as much as it was King Thordan's, though the latter never respected him until it was almost too late for the king. His father never managed to understand subtlety, and ended up with a stab wound to the chest to show for it. Valdemar could only wish that Niels could undo what his predecessor had ruined, while he was a mere advisor.
"I propose that if King Niels fails to fulfil his obligations to Parma, you or one of your sons will be ready for the role." Valdemar smiled at Garmund's deliberation. The High Kingdom of Parma contains within itself a slow-acting poison, and only he held the cure.
"That would be treason." Garmund was slow to react, as usual, but once he did he was forceful.
"The only way a rebellion is not treason is when it succeeds," Valdemar spoke softly. "And it's not even a rebellion when we are having. We only need to purchase the duties of two more electors. Plain and simple."
"I do doubt that he would simply let us depose him." Garmund quipped. "He is not the most voluntary of rulers, yes, but the Parmans do enjoy his rule. I would much rather wait." That was not a sentence the King of Triel often said, but this is not the most usual of circumstances.
"Besides, Lorelei has so far been a loyal vassal to me." A simple sentence was able to shake Valdemar back to reality. "And you have been too busy trying to see her out of power for the last decades. That attempted Southard alliance was quite distasteful as well.
Valdemar muttered something non-committal. He had forgotten that Garmund was not the sort of beast to simply bury his grudges. "What will happen if Lorelei controlled Parma? I do have to wonder. Will she still be loyal to you and Triel, or will she be her usual headstrong self?"
"What are you implying?"
"I simply mean to secure you a Parman ally to continue the struggle against Southsward." Valdemar continued, attempting to refrain from lying. "Your last attempt at securing a puppet on the Dravain throne ended up in a failure because Parma was disinterested in sending either beasts or gold for your cause."
"You speak well, Lord Valdemar." Garmund nodded twice. "I shall consider your offer most patiently, and we shall see what happens next."
FLORET, CROWNLANDS, KINGDOM OF SOUTHSWARD
Trying to sleep after waking up in the middle of the night was never hard for Thordan, but the otter twisted and turned. Erlend the fox tried talking to him since they had met a few minutes ago, but all Thordan heard was gibberish.
All of a sudden, Thordan heard a tiny sound, hardly a sound, but Thordan heard it nonetheless. Perhaps an insect had stepped on something? But insects' breaths cannot be heard…
"Egil!" Thordan cried. "Is that you?" Mayhaps the door between the cells had been unlocked, but what use for secrecy was there? For what reason would Egil come to him so silently? No. No. It had to be something else.
"Egil!" Thordan sat up in his pallet, hearing another breath emanating from the left. It had to be the left. "Who's there?" he cried once more.
Silence returned, but Thordan knew that he was no longer alone. He was holding within himself a panic, a deep panic, the sort of panic a best would possess a beast who knew that he was to die. Still worse was the agony of not knowing one's killer, not knowing which part of his body will be attacked, and most prominent of all - that horrible, invisible presence, closing on him by the wall second after second.
A weight suddenly hurled itself upon the bed. Erlend chose now to scream within Thordan's mind, as Thordan uttered a cry that Egil Skulason, on the storey above, was never to forget.
Chapter 48 (Epilogue) will be up on 26/27 February.