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Chapter 4: Squirrelking
Tharius Squirrelking let out a contented sigh. Strutting through the Great Hall of Castle Floret, he looked to the throne. His throne. He twirled around in joy. His.
There was a spring in his steps. The world just seemed brighter, since he had returned to Floret. It was as if there was a sun of joy inside every room, shining just for him. It was as if there was a grand puppeteer hanging from the heavens, pulling up the corners of Tharius' mouth in an eternal smile. It was as if he had finally fulfilled a childhood dream. After all, he had.
He strolled up the blue-carpeted stairs to the slightly elevated platform where the golden throne of Southsward stood solitary at the center of the platform. As he reached the throne, he turned with a flourish, his elaborate white robes swirling around his feet. With a relaxed grunt, he eased into his throne.
It was his. The throne, the platform, the blue cart, the dark oak tables, the statues that adorned the walls, the walls themselves. All was right.
Then, from behind, came a slimy voice, the only thing that was not right. "Welcome home, Your Majesty."
The puppeteer's hands slipped, and Tharius' smile slid from his face. "Thank you, Bluenose."
Bluenose. Vafír had left him in Floret, to be Tharius' "advisor". A ridiculous lie. Tharius knew that the weasel was deadly loyal to Vafír, and had been left to spy on Tharius' new, almost-perfect reign. The weasel was the one sign that Tharius' reign was not yet perfect, and there was still someone above the Squirrelking.
The deal with Vafír Silvertung had been necessary. Tharius didn't have the beastpower necessary to retake Floret, and Vafír didn't have anybeast with understanding of the land and politics of Southsward. It had worked out—Joseph Mouseking was dead, and Tharius once more sat on the throne. But his dream was not complete, and as long as Tharius still swore fealty to Emperor Silvertung, it would never be complete.
As it was, the Emperor was frolicking out in the East with half the horde and a third of the fleet, all to take one little island which could be taken with just a few regiments. Meanwhile, the deal was that Tharius would take whatever troops the Emperor left behind and conquer Salamandastron, perhaps the greatest military power in the history of the East. How would they even get the boats back against the current of the Great South Stream? Beasts often told Tharius that the Emperor was a mad genius, but Tharius only saw that first part.
But time, with time, Tharius would win. He had played this game and won a thousand times before, and he would not lose now.
"What word from Igda, Bluenose?"
"Squirrelqueen Igda VII has accepted your proposal, your highness. Though I still stand by my original opinion." The weasel's voice was pain to the ears in the same way that lemon juice was pain to the eyes.
Tharius nodded, and the puppeteer brought his smile back a little. "Spectacular. And I still stand by my original opinion." The weasel just nodded, though Tharius could feel Bluenose's disapproval like the stench of a week-old dead toad.
Igda led a group of mercenary squirrels who lived near Salamandastron. They weren't terribly powerful, but any support would be necessary if Tharius were to continue to fulfill his part of Vafír's deal.
Bluenose had wanted Tharius to marry a vermin, to promote support among Tharius' majority-vermin subjects. Aside from the disgust Tharius had to work hard to conceal towards that idea, the Squirrelking had other reasons to avoid such a union. If a squirrel were to, in the future, take Vafír Silvertung's place, the only way to get the vermin to stay loyal to a squirrel would be to separate that squirrel as far from the vermin as possible. He'd have to make the vermin think he was some superior being who had a kind of divine right, like a Marlfox in a way, and marrying a vermin would ruin that whole illusion. He might have to kill every single other squirrel in the world for that scheme, but for now he'd just focus on getting the right bride. No, Bluenose was wrong. As usual.
One of the great doors at the other end of the room creaked open, and a small, young rat walked through. It was one of the Western vermin, with shaggy, colorful fur of red and silver. Tharius still wasn't sure whether that coloring was from cultural paints or they were born with the garish fur. The rat cleared its throat.
"Sanlo Merggish, representative of Ze Toadlands, 'as arrived. Should I zend 'im in?"
Tharius held up a paw. "In a moment, Nightrip. Tell him to wait."
The rat nodded and left, the great doors swung shut.
Tharius took a deep breath. He was allowing his troubles with Bluenose and Silvertung distract him from his victory. He had won. There were more battles to come, yes, but for now he should savor his joy. He remembered how, long ago, he had lived in the caves outside of Floret, listening to his mothers tell him stories of when the squirrels ruled Southsward. As a young squirrel, he had dreamt of becoming a king. Taking back the throne Joseph Mouseking I, grandson of The Bellmaker, had stolen from Truffen Squirrelking II in a coup. Tharius had long ago given up those dreams. But then Silvertung came, and Tharius made a deal. Now, he knew he'd never live to regret that deal. Tharius sat on the throne of Southsward. So what if nearly every other squirrel was enslaved? Vermin made good enough subjects. The only place left to go was up. He took another deep breath.
Tharius turned towards Bluenose. "Is our… surprise ready?"
The slimy weasel looked up to the ceiling, where the outline of a trapdoor etched out Tharius' plans. "Of course, your highness."
Tharius nodded, the puppeteer pulling back the smile in full force. "Alright. Send in the toad."
Author's Note: Tharius Squirrelking! He's obviously different from the noble hero he was in TDEv1, but I think this way is considerably more fun.