Finally, some new content. And a bit of an experiment, due, in part to my impatence. This draft is my unedited version, just a quick pass through spell check. But I'll be posting a different version on AO3 that has had the attention of a story editor, 'BCRE8TVE' as is known over on Discord. Let's see what happens.
"So, how's that plate coming?" The master smith asked the apprentice. The young Hare had shown real artistic skill and this would be his first full work.
"All it needs is the last of the tool marks to be burnished out, Master." The last said with a touch more force than he might have intended.
The elder Coyote sighed, "I know, Lad, but such is the fate of our time." Looking at the iron collar around the young fellow's neck. He then examined the presentation plate, a rather gaudy thing for a newly rich patron. Best not think too much as to the circumstances of that. A simple, showy design, executed well enough by the silversmith in training.
"It fits our patron well enough." And the pair shared a little unspoken exchange in that. The artistry of this shop graced the halls of kings, and this thing utterly lacked any of the refined character of those masterpieces. But it was exactly what the patron wanted.
"But, our patron was promised it be ready for delivery by week's end, and there is more than that worth of finishing still."
The Hare cringed at that, expecting some manner of reprimand, and in these new times, more than a mere beating.
The master sensed his unease. "Come now, when have we struck any of our apprentices?" Then paused in a comical start, "Well other than young Michael, but he did use that flagon as a night pot." A tale told more in jest than fact.
"I'll take it and get the finals done on it in time."
"Master?" The youth was surprised as much for the claim of timeliness as the taking on of the fussy work in those last steps. That is what the junior apprentices were for.
"I'll have it done by tomorrow, so you can see to the presentation box. The boys in carpentry ought to have it nearly ready."
"But, Master, how? Tomorrow?"
"That's why I'm the master, all the little tricks that my advanced years has allowed me."
The elder Coyote took the plate and bade the lad good night, taking it into his private workspace. It was smallish, and doubled as his living quarters, somewhat spartan details, a couple work tables, scroll rack, shelves full of tools and odd bits, even a couple books. He lit an array of candles and lamps; the work needed an extravagance of light to catch all the details.
The master peered at the silver work. The boy had done a good job in the forming of the images and the general details, scrollwork and beading and such. But there were still little tool marks, scratches, and simple dull spots. Pure silver worked particularly well due to its softness, and actually kept brighter than the various harder alloys. But as it was so soft, it marred easily and the manipulations showed.
He flexed his paws in anticipation of the task and got to it. To make sure he was up to it, he wiped a finger across an open area and was gratified to see the surface briefly flow like it had been melted. He examined the effect, a pure mirror smooth surface. But the details needed finer attention, and he brought out a small metal stylus and gently passed it over some of the finer work. Those areas too settled into a liquid smooth version of themselves.
While he was well skilled in the conventional techniques of the smithing arts, in private, he could bring forth his full talent as a material mage.
Makers, as the legends called them, were a rare and dreaded breed, their powers were often subtle, but irresistible, and it took the deepest treachery to purge the lands of them all those octades ago. Except him.
He never had the grand ambitions or petty passions that brought out the superstitious fears or provoked the determined resistance that had driven his kind to oblivion, or at least obscurity. He doubted that he was truly the last, but it had been a generation or more since he had any inkling of any of his kin.
He had a safe place to work and he enjoyed the mundane half of his craft and was a good teacher to the apprentices. The Boar, now technically the slave of his bear black smith partner, could 'find' old Maker steel and artifacts and ask the kind of prices such could demand. Maker pieces were uncommon, but in the inner lands, could still be found without undue suspicion. The old boar wasn't greedy or foolish, and in these times, keeping less attention to ones' self was increasingly prudent.
Finishing the plate took only a few hours, and then he considered; better to keep to his room to imply a late night. It wouldn't do to finish too quickly. He kept a little hard bread and smoked bird on hand for a nibble, and maybe a taste of port. He was feeling just a bit expansive tonight. Or, perhaps something else.
The rescinding of the Great Peace, and the lesser and more petty exercises of power with this silly new Empress was troubling. Beyond the countless tragedies that were now inflicted on most of the population, he suspected there would be an eventual bloody rebalance. Though there had been some quick fortunes made with the shuffling of properties, such were but one-time windfalls, and the great wheels of commerce were threatening to slow, if not stop, now that most of those who had driven it were now largely prohibited from participating in all but the meanest labor or exchange. Lords of beasts and Masters of commerce needed wealth creation, and that wasn't happening with their sources in chains.
He found it galling that it would take money, in the end, to drive the needed restoration. All his years had made him more, not less, sensitive to the lives struck by these kinds of things. He cherished living in a land free of fear, and found real affection in the humble creatures he called friends and neighbors.
This land was likely safe from the worst excesses of the Empress. The King was quick to insure his absolute obedience to her will, much to the grief of those lesser orders in his realm. The iron collar meant real servitude now, though skilled beasts could still practice their arts. Most masters were carefully sympathetic to their charges' welfare, so truly needless abuses were thankfully uncommon.
But what was he to do? Should he even dare do anything? He was not one for flamboyant demonstrations of power. Mostly. And there were some practical limits.
He could simply walk into the imperial palace and slay the silly cub on the spot, or do it in a myriad more devious ways. But that would not reflect well. Regicide was still rather frowned upon, and even done anonymously; any hint of his wielding power would not do him any good.
And simply killing the Empress wouldn't solve the situation. She had three awful sisters who'd be eager to take her place. Though they'd likely turn on each other in short order and save him the necessities. But also likely drag down a great number of better beasts in the process. Then there was the matter of some reasonable succession, and what few prospects he was aware of were not hopeful.
He had to admit that he didn't have the grand strategic mind for the fate of empires. And was too far removed to be privy to all the potential court intrigues that were undoubtedly afoot.
Part of him knew that some manner of wider war was likely. The failed attempts against the 'Burrows and the several Imperial takings of ancient and time-honored holdings of erstwhile loyal kings threatened the unity of the Empire. Increasingly, it was not just the prey orders who found themselves at the sharp end of the Imperial whim.
With whom could he ally? Certainly not the bloodthirsty Lioness on the throne. The local ruler was tragically dutiful to the Empire, and would abed her disaster.
The Fox King? He was weak and distant, though he was providing a refuge for many. Any action against him would be difficult. He was at the far edge of Imperial influence and the territories in his sway was as vast as the population sparse. There was no strong hold or major city, nothing to focus an attack on. His best defense was simply being elusive. Not that the Empire could invest in any major campaign against him.
Then there was that Coney Queen. He didn't like the company of rabbits. Though he couldn't read minds per se, he could sense the mood of those around him and rabbits were so emotional. And as they tended to be in great crushes, at least to his perception.
But if ever a House was in need of help.
So, why, a week later and a bit footsore, was he going to help them? He didn't like to think that he had some grand noble ideals. He was too old to allow himself that delusion. Maybe it was just that he'd been in his then current situation about as long as he dared? Folks might begin to notice such things after enough octades.
It couldn't be that he was looking for some new adventure. They tended to get complicated and uncomfortable. True, he had enough in his purse to not have to camp roadside, but was careful not to seek ostentatious accommodations. There were more literal predators on the open road that he'd rather not attract.
Like the three wolves on the road ahead.
They didn't look like road-weary bandits, more likely neighborhood hooligans. Which could be little more than an annoyance, or much worse. If he were a prey, even in the best of the old days, there was always the small risk of being reduced to pies. Nowadays, damn the Empress, it even legal.
As a coyote, he could be regarded as a cousin to wolves, though kinship was no guarantee against whatever mischief they might have in mind. Especially as a lone traveler well away from any town.
"Nice day." He stopped a good many paces off.
The three had been reclining in the shade of a roadside tree and casually rose and exchanged a sneer. "What 'cha got in the pack?"
"A few tools, a couple books, clean loin cloth. I'm a tinker, mostly."
"A tinker? Got any silver in there too?"
"I work silver, sure, but don't carry any samples."
"Books? Fancy books?"
"Just a rather worn old reference, and a sketch book, designs and rubbing of my work."
One of the wolves seemed a bit piqued at the later, but the other two were unimpressed. Then they made note of the sheathed sword on his back. "How about that sword? Got any fancy blades to go with it?"
"Sorry. Again, most of that work goes to custom. And I'm keeping the long blade."
"We'll see about that." And the three pulled out middling quality hand-and-a-half pieces, though they didn't seem too eager to go to it yet. "You could just put your gear down and walk away." They offered, but he could tell they were not likely going to really allow that. One of them began to sidle off to try and flank him.
"Are you really sure you want to do this?" He asked far more politely than they deserved. Their intentions became more focused in his senses and he knew how badly that would end.
One snorted, "One less old coyote hardly needs the question answered." And he brought up his sword to advance on him.
After lifetimes of forging the finest steels with just his force of will, touching the delicate balance of a beast's brain was like pinching out a candle, and the three were very dead quicker than they knew it.
So sad such wasted lives. The two in the road he dragged off to the side. He could tell they had nothing of special value among them, though there had not been desperation in their motive, as they had plenty of coin. He didn't need such, nor would he have touched some of the less common ones. An old trick was to carry a few unique pieces that would inform others of their confederate's misadventure.
He considered pinning their right paws down with their own blades, a brand for thieves, but he had never liked marking even the most deserving dead.
It was not long before he came across the next village, and when he asked about any keeper of the law, he was directed to the master of the town. He was not surprised to see that the Master was a wolf, with no small resemblance to the three.
"What business would you have with us today?" The old wolf had seen better days, but his manner was courteous, and he none of the airs of a petty lordling. He had a pair of other wolves with him, likely kin as well, but done up as keepers of the peace.
"If you have kin of similar nature," Waving to his own face, "I'm afraid I have bad news. There are three young fellows out an hour's walk back, dead, by the road."
All three wolves made a sour face. "How did they die?"
"I couldn't say. Two were in the road and I pulled them clear. There was no mark on them that I could see, and I didn't fuss with them or their belongings."
"An honest Coyote, eh?" The old wolf gave him a look. Not exactly suspicious.
"An old and careful Coyote." He returned lightly. "Bad luck to rifle stranger's bodies." With the unspoken 'unknown circumstance' heavy in the absence. There were others with powers, real or imagined, and one could never be too wary of poison or curse.
"Yes." A sad nod of the head, then, "May I ask where are you headed and your business?"
"Just a tinker and arms smith. Trouble in the east means business for my lot." He made a small shrug.
"Yes. Bad times mean good trade." Said more as an observation.
"Though I'd rather be doing fancy work for some over-fed lord than new blades."
That almost brought a chuckle from the old wolf, but his eyes were looking off at something else. "Will you be staying the night?"
"Still some daylight out there, and I'd be more comfortable with some extra distance between me and whatever."
There was a look in the wolf, maybe not suspicion, but... He then shook his head sadly. "I'm grateful for your small kindness. Peace and safety to you."
And that was that.
He passed through the next village around dusk, but pressed on. He did want to get some real distance between him and the three. Anyone seeking him would stop there. Best to not be around, just in case.
Fortunately, that was all the drama He encountered until he got to the frontier of Aestivium, the Golden Plain. It was the land just to the west of the 'Burrow, and there would no doubt be an effort to keep refugees and reinforcement from crossing to bolster the renegade Queen.
Despite its name, a fair bit of the lands were wooded, and he chose to stick to roads with the potential of concealment as well as shade.
It was there that he caught sense of others trying to make their way to the east. A party of mixed beasts were trying to get to the boarder and beyond. He kept well away yet followed with some interest, even to the point of deflecting a patrol of Lynx. And in that, found the boarder territories a bit more porous than one might expect.
House Leopa had enjoyed a cordial relationship with the 'Burrows and House Hopps before the breaking of the Great Peace, so were obligated to close their boarders, but local sentiment still retained ties.
However, Leopa and Lynx had a more contentious history and the presence of Lynx troops in the territory was tolerated only by Imperial directive. That those Lynx troops suffered the attention of infiltrators from the 'Burrows and were forced to retreat deeper into Leopa lands made things worse. So more often than not, armed parties would spend most of their time suspiciously eyeing each other rather than stemming the flow of refugees.
For his part, getting through would not have been a problem even with the most alert sentries. He could make himself not noticed and pass through any mortal surveillance. And so it was that he entered the capital of the 'Burrows, now fast becoming a great armed camp with respectable defensive works well under way.
While he could have simply strode in on the royal court there unimpeded, that wouldn't be polite. Better to be more discrete.
00000
"My Queen!" One of the servers cried out, pointing to the floor. There was a glint of something among the tiles, like quicksilver, flowing between the joints towards the collected lords. Several beasts recoiled, several others formed up between this mystery and their Queen. In seeming reaction to the attention, the flow stopped, then drew up to a lump, then into a tiny figure of a creature, vaguely canid in shape. It then flourished a bow in the direction of the Queen.
"It seeks the Queen!" "A magical weapon!?" "A spy!" "Will fire stop it?" And similar alarms provoked the figure to stand with its arms crossed, as though waiting for cooler heads. Amid the exclamations of confusion and fear, someone observed, "It's a herald! A Maker's herald." And the tiny figure made a clapping motion and pointed to the right guess.
One of the Queen's Guards strode up to and knelt down before the tiny silver shape. "Your master seeks an audience with our Queen?"
To which the thing nodded vigorously.
There was a chorus of objections to that notion until the Little Queen herself spoke. "I suspect that if our little guest's master wished me harm, he would have had far more devious methods, eh?"
To which the figure bowed again.
"I'd assume your master would wish to be discrete, if he is what I suspect him to be. A true Maker?"
A vigorous nod from the Herald and some gasps from the collected attendants.
She thought a moment, then, "Travern, I assume this little fellow will guide you to his master. Bring him, quietly, here." She looked out at the range of concerns in the faces of the assembled. "I trust you all will keep this in the highest confidence. We do not know what he may wish, fair or foul, but we must pay him every consideration if he is truly what he claims."
After the guard had left with the herald, there was a rush of concerns voiced as to the wisdom of such. A senior council waved everyone to hush and listen. "Our Queen is right to see to this Maker, what ever his mission. As she so correctly observed, if he had hostile intent, we would be unable to resist him, be it with force of arms or what little powers any of our lesser wielders might manage."
"Thank you, Lord Payen." The young Queen sighed in relief. "Regardless of his intent, I for one am simply curious to meet such a miraculous creature. Even if only half the tales are true."
It was a sentiment echoed by a few. As they waited, a luncheon was brought up; both to keep the assembly occupied with a tasty distraction and have something to offer their guest. The wait was not over long.
Travern ushered an unassuming figure, a coyote in fairly common travel clothes, who bowed deeply upon seeing the august company before him.
"Your lordships, your Highness, I'm known as Kyle, a master tinker and fine metals smith, and a wielder of some craft." His accent was of the inner kingdoms, and he held himself in the fashion of someone familiar with court, though not of status himself. "I would ask if I could be of some service to your cause."
"What manner of service and to what portion of 'our cause' might you offer, Master Smith?" The little Queen asked. The Maker was a bit surprised, the Queen was even younger than he had expected. Such a small thing too, but he could sense her steady resolve. This was no scared or over-emotional bunny.
"As you might surmise, I do have some special talents for weapons, as the dagger in your belt is similar to my own product."
Queen Judy was a bit surprised, as it was well concealed, but drew out the small fine thing; it had never needed sharpening nor shown any diminished shine in the history of its ownership by her family for some generations.
"There are some other examples in this room as well, even one of my own." And he pointed to Lord Gandolan. "Your boot knife, m'lord, an early piece of mine."
"And a quality piece it is. And has served my family well." He gave a small salute to the Coyote.
"But I can do more than make pretty tools, if need be. And within limits." Kyle held out his paws. "There are tales of makers slaying whole armies, laying lands to waste with a wave of a paw or by bending the weather to their will." His paws fell and shoulders slumped. "And they are all just tales." Then he held up a digit, "But there are smaller mayhems I can inflict. Assassinate a select few or poison a well at a distance."
He was secretly pleased at the faces of distaste at those suggestions.
"Though I can do some more dramatic demonstrations. I once had a whole first rank of infantry have their sword blades fall off their grips as they drew them in their advance."
"Was that you?" Blurted out one of the councilors. "I read about that in the accounts of the Second Peninsular War. But that was ...?"
"Yes, I'm older than I look. But I am not some manner of immortal, no godling or some nonsense. And in that, I do have some healing arts, both practical and special. They've kept me going for a good while. You have some healers with the true craft in your land already, but I might be able to help as well."
"And is there a special price for your service?"
"My needs are modest. A clean bed, reasonable food, some space to work." He spread his paws. "And I'm not adverse to any other practical tasks you may have need." Then held up a digit, "However, I'm not an assassin, nor would I be party to torture or atrocity."
"Of course." And the Queen glanced around to her nobles, some only belatedly nodded in agreement. "Forgive me if I seem wary, as this seems all too good to be true." Though it was clear that she was more curious than wary.
"I was wondering about why I'd come half way across the Empire to offer myself to an upstart Queen in what may yet be a hopeless effort myself. The walk gave me plenty of time to think of such things." He gestured to the luncheon table and she waved approval.
As he picked through some rather nice looking fair, he explained. "Part of it was the matter of a new challenge. A pernaturally long life includes all too many years of routine. Not that I'm some manner of thrill-seeker. Far from it. But too many years blend and fade."
He shifted his little daypack off his shoulder and reached inside to bring out a fat little portfolio. "So much so that I've kept a book to keep my memories straight. Much of it is just sketches and rubbings of designs, my work or that of others, which I've admired. But also notes and accounts of my times, least they fade away entirely."
"And I noticed I haven't done anything beyond minor custom work for more octades than I'd like to admit." He paused and considered a moment, "And haven't done anything - adventurous, in far longer." He grimaced at that. There was a lot of recent history that could have benefited from some Maker assistance, pushing events to better outcomes.
That Celia ruled could be counted back to things he could have done to prevent her grandsire from ascension to the Imperial throne. He did not have the power of foresight, but anyone with a taste of history and read of character could tell that his line was particularly unsuited for rule. The current Empress was only more public, more unrestrained in her destructive passions, overwhelming the constraints of law and tradition that had heretofore held House Pantarius in some level of check.
"So. I'm back in action, so to speak." He gave the Little Queen a hard look. "I'd like to think that I'm joining you in a righteous cause to restore the Great Peace." A deep sad sigh. "But all I can promise is that I'll do what I can to prevent you and yours from being slaughtered too easily in the storm that's to come."