Chapter 6
Through Waking
What means all this? Thou hast embarked, thou hast made the voyage, thou art come to shore; get out. -Meditations, by Marcus Aurelius
It took a few days for Veil to reappear in Kiormund's dreams, once more in the grounds of Redwall Abbey.
Unlike last time, the sun blazed high above the duo's heads, and the heavy remains of a previous snow dotted the abbey courtyard. Winter had awakened once more, both in Kiormund's dream and in reality, but while Southsward was more prone to rain than snow, Redwall was another story entirely.
Another one of the winter plays were in front of the pair, the sort travelling performers loved to act out before a crowd of Dibbuns and their parents. A mousemaid attempted her best Mariel impression, swinging around a length of rope and pretending she knew how to use it, while what was clearly a squirrel pretending to be Gabool the Wild toppled off the stage, earning a cheer from the audience and a smile from Kiormund.
"Feeling special today?" asked the ferret, sitting next to the otter. "It isn't often that your dreams are actually interesting."
"It isn't often that Redwall winters are actually interesting, Veil. Usually we're stuck indoors, as it's too cold outside. I don't do in with the cold. Plays like this are pretty much the only sort of entertainment held outdoors." Kiormund scratched his head. "Where have you been these last few days?"
Veil turned away from Kiormund. "Oh, I was just seeing all of Floret. I've never been to a city before. You know, back when I was still alive."
"Did you find anything that interests you?"
"Well, I couldn't say Floret exactly lived up to its fame," said Veil, who proceeded to do an exaggerated yawn. "The belltower was better than Redwall's, but that's not exactly high praise."
"Maybe you'll like it more in the summer," replied Kiormund, thinking of his first time visiting the great city when he was a pup of seven. "Everything's better in the summer - just like Redwall, really."
The ferret's whiskers twitched. "There's one thing you can't do in the winter though."
"Wha-"
The otter's response was cut off by a snowball to the head, followed by Veil's laughter. "Ha! I got you there."
"That was uncalled for!" shouted Kiormund, wiping the snow off his snout. "How did you even get that?"
"It's a dream, streamdog." Another white sphere popped into Veil's red paw, and it soared over Kiormund's head. "You can just dream it up!"
The otter's eyebrows furrowed. Staring at his paw, Kiormund's eyes widened as a lump of snow manifested within the confines of his palm. It took him a mere second of hesitation before he hurled it towards the ferret, clipping his ear.
"Good one!" exclaimed Veil, and for once Kiormund was inclined to agree.
"You slept well, I assume?" asked Finnbarr Streambattle, head cocking to the side. He was the only one of Kiormund's cousins who he liked, and it was very kind of him to visit.
"I had a good dream," replied Kiormund, smiling. The duo were alone in his cell. Lamont and Finnbarr preferred to use the word 'room', since he was not trapped in it. The young otter could go around the castle and its ground as he wished. But still, he found himself being watched wherever he went. The situation was no better than Kiormund expected it to be. At least he was not alone.
"What about it?"
"I dreamed of Redwall Abbey," continued Kiormund, taking care not to mention winning a snowball fight against a long-dead ferret.
"Redwall! Oh, you didn't tell me much about it. Is it as wonderful as they say it is?"
"Winters there were cold - I fell ill quite a few times. But the summers there were marvellous, and even when it had been cold enough to snow, the hearts of abbeybeasts were always warm." Kiormund's mind wandered to better places and better times. "Every morning the bells rang, tolling their melodies all across the woods of Mossflower, as the leaves and grass rustled in the wind and the rosy visage of the Abbey towered above us all."
"That's wonderful!" said Finnbarr. "Though I think you didn't mention the food…"
"I was trying to save the best for last!"
"And the Abbeybeasts too! What of them?"
"Graha's my closest friend. She could be rather verbose at times, but we got along just fine."
"Just like Egil and you did?"
"Just like Egil and I did. Just like we did, I must add. As for Abbot Cuthbert, he's the closest beast to a father I've got."
"You're father's still alive! Blerun wrote to me that Lord Erlend was in Gystra."
"The closest beast to a father I've got in Redwall, I meant," said Kiormund, scratching his head and adjusting his seating position into something more comfortable. "The Abbot cared about me, and helped me adjust into a life far from home."
The door to the room opened, and through it stepped the very familiar form of Lamont Streambattle. Kiormund saw his uncle both meals of the day, but never in what he was currently wearing, even before he had left for Redwall. Blue and gold were distinctly royal colours, and they were not usually worn by any otter - or indeed anybeast who was not a squirrel of Gael's blood - but the Steward of Floret did not seem to care. "Finn, what are you doing here?" he asked.
"I'm just visiting Kio here, Father," replied Finnbarr, frowning. Apparently he was not supposed to be here, not this early in the morning.
"Yes, I know that much. Didn't I tell you that Mother and Rab are coming back today?"
"It was supposed to be yesterday!"
"You might have noticed that they were not here. Now go and prepare, son." Finnbarr nodded and vanished through the doorway as Lamont squinted his eyes at his nephew. "As for you… I have something planned."
"Are you going to have me bound and dragged through the streets again?" asked Kiormund. "You might find me less cooperative this time."
"Not this time, pup. You just have to be there when I welcome my family back. Well, most of them - Blerun's still at Gystra when last I heard from him. They'll love to have you around!"
"I suppose so." Kiormund very much doubted the veracity of Lamont's latest proclamation.
"In any case, here is your new outfit." Lamont laid down a basket of clothes in front of the door, likely recently-washed judging by the moist spots on them. "Do come downstairs in half an hour." With that, he turned his back on his nephew and was gone, leaving the door shut behind him and leaving Kiormund alone.
Grumbling to himself, the otter made his way towards the basket, and took off his nightgown. It had been rather tight on the fur - Kiormund might just have overindulged himself at a few Redwall feasts - but it was otherwise fine.
"Seems that your family's just as weird as mine," said Veil, manifesting behind Kiormund. "Do they tend to threaten to kill each other a lot?"
"They do more than just threatening, Veil," replied Kiormund, putting on a blue shirt, with little golden yellow bells embroidered upon the edges. "I'm related to basically every otter of note in the Southern Realms, and they're always quarreling with each other if you're lucky."
"And if you're not?"
"Then you'll have to die for them, whether you want to or not," Kiormund sighed as he sat down, slipping into a journade of the same colour made of pleated cloth. It was not the silken garments worn by Lamont - Kiormund guessed that his uncle was not willing to give him something that expensive. "Many wars had been fought between kinsbeasts at the helm. The last war wasn't - some mice decided to cause my grandfather some trouble - but it was the exception rather than the rule. Picture your father Swartt with a well-trained, well-equipped army, and picture half a dozen of that." Kiormund smiled bitterly as he saw genuine disgust creep into Veil's countenance for the first time. "The consequences wouldn't be pretty."
Veil chuckled. "Probably a bit prettier than what you look like now."
The otter rushed towards the mirror in his cell and took a long look. Not only did blue and yellow not complement his brown and white fur that well, the garments Lamont had given him were far too large. Kiormund turned back to inform the ferret that it was not funny when he realised Veil had vanished, back to where phantoms like him come from. He sighed, grumbled and made for the door.
After an outrageously long ceremony standing in his cousin's hand-me-downs, Kiormund would have bounded straight back to his cell, swapped back into his nightclothes and hopefully had a good afternoon nap, but Finnbarr had other plans. Having to spend time with his extended family over an unpleasant lunch was one of them.
The castle staff had acquired a large trout, and soon it was carved up, stuffed into numerous pies and served to everybeast. While Finnbarr was quick to devour his portion, Rab didn't seem to be that hungry, and their parents slowly cut away pieces of fish and consumed them one by one on the other side of the table. Kiormund tried his best to emulate them, but nobeast gave any indication on whether he was succeeding.
"So you're Erlend's pup, are you not?" said Lady Anezka. Lamont's wife had been staring at Kiormund ever since the first course was served, and he had felt uncomfortable ever since.
"He arrived a week or two before we did," her firstborn chimed in. Like his namesake from the Bellmaker's day, Rab Streambattle was tall, daring and somewhat impulsive, but there the similarities end. His father had wanted him to be a competent administrator while his mother preferred him to grow up to be a valiant warrior, so of course he became neither.
"He came from Redwall," added Finnbarr.
"I have heard about the place, Finn." As he turned to his young cousin, Rab's lips curled into that muted smiles he excelled in making. "What was the Abbey like?"
Repeating what he told Finnbarr earlier that morning took Kiormund two whole minutes.
"That's wonderful, I suppose. You've grown a bit since we last met, Kio. Must've been the food at Redwall."
"The last time you two met was when Kiormund was a pup of thirteen seasons, Rabbo," said Lamont. "Of course he's taller."
"Speaking of pups," said Anezka, giving her firstborn a gentle nudge. "You haven't told Kiormund here about your own."
"Yes, mother," said Rab as Lamont and Finnbarr rolled their eyes almost simultaneously. They must have heard what he was about to say a few dozen times at least. "I married a few months after you left for the Abbey, and I am a father now."
"That's wonderful," replied Kiormund, spitting out a bone.
"It is indeed! Blanche's got her father's eyes - the sort of eyes that glow bright blue whenever she smiles. Steffen's got something similar, but his whiskers are just a tad bit too long. And the snouts are just perfect - exactly the right colour of fur and the right length. The ears are also-"
"Rab, enough," said Lamont, staring at his son, who seemed to shrink under his father's gaze. The Steward continued, "Dearest nephew, have you ever thought of having pups?"
Kiormund almost spat his mouthful of fish out. "Pardon?"
"Pups, children, potential heirs."
"Small fuzzy creatures that rest in your lap, whom you will care for and receive care in return," added Lady Anezka, keeping her cold stare trained on Kiormund. "Your mother may say otherwise, but it's very clear that she never really cared about being a parent."
"I suppose so," replied Kiormund. "She never really had confidence in me. And my father too. They're all too alike - maybe that's the reason why they never really bonded with each other. They're too focused with everything else to teach me how to rule, how to inspire, how to commit myself to my future duties. So here I am. The only reason I haven't asked you for permission to return to Redwall is to see what I can do - then perhaps I can have the peace I want."
Lamont blinked, as did Finnbarr. Rad looked completely disinterested, while a sudden twitch of Anezka's whiskers meant that she was not. The Steward cocked his head to the side in a futile effort to continue the conversation, but Kiormund simply avoided eye contact, and in the end nothing more was said.
It was a good two hours after lunch concluded before Kiormund decided to pay Lamont's solar a visit.
The sun blazed in the skies over Floret, illuminating towers, walls and houses alike with its glow. Soldiers, woodlanders and vermin alike, patrolled the streets, solar warmth protecting them from the encroaching winter chill. Fortunately for them, the coldest part of the season was still far away, not to trouble them for another month.
Through the castle walls Kiormund could hear the Floret bells peal. Joseph the Bellmaker had crafted three, but all three of them cracked in a futile effort to save them from fire. Hundreds of fiorini were spent on the crafting of five more afterwards, and they sang every time the hour changed. From the strident knells of Dandin and the rapid chime of Mariel, to the cacophony brought about by Gael and Serena and the Galedeep Bell's ethereal but orderly peal, almost the whole city could partake in the majesty of Southsward's past glories.
For Kiormund, the melodies served as a reminder. While the beasts that lived in Mossflower Woods thought Redwall to be a monument that dwarfed all they had seen before, denizens of the Southern Realms, the abbey was a tiny outpost of civilisation in a faraway land.
After a knock on the Steward's door, Kiormund found his uncle looking out of the window, watching the belltower perform its melody. The young otter knew that it was taller than Redwall Abbey, but he had not been able to obtain a closer look at the spire.
"Impressive, is it not?" asked Lamont. "Every single time the hour turns, the bells toll a different melody, as you may or may not have heard before."
"I know that, uncle," Kiormund said, only to be cut off.
"Is there anything I can help you with, dearest nephew? Possibly about Blerun's old clothes, judging by the look on your face."
"No, uncle. It was about this afternoon. I wanted to speak with you about something."
"I didn't expect you to be suddenly so animated back then, to be honest. All I did was ask-"
Kiormund shook his head. "It isn't about the pups. I just wanted to ask you a few questions about rulership."
"You are more serious than I thought about the whole 'proving yourself' thing." Lamont walked back to his seat in front of the desk, beckoning Kiormund to sit in front of him. "What do you want to know? More importantly, what do you already know?"
"Badgerlord Eboric told me something before, before I set foot on the Aureous Gale. He said that before any beast who bears responsibility can succeed, they have to fail and pick themselves up time after time. Before we can do what is right we must know what is right."
"What the Badgerlord says makes sense." Lamont sneered. "Half of it does, at least. Though I don't think his current situation could even dream to match your future one."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I know Eboric. Perhaps not too well - we have spoken but once. But I know that he watches over the Western Sea, protecting all innocent woodlanders that cannot protect themselves." The Steward of Floret rolled his eyes. "Watching is not ruling. How many times did he have to listen to some ignorant beast's complaints? How many times did he have to intervene when those under him quarrel with each other? How many times did he have to contend with incompetent colleagues, disapppointing heirs or the pain in the tail known as Erlend Streambattle?"
"My father-"
"You know how he is like, pup. Perhaps more than I do."
The two sat in silence as Kiormund's eyes wandered across the room and his uncle opened another one of his letters with a short knife. While the Badgerlord had kept his room in order both times the otter saw it, the Steward's was rather disorganised. Books and maps lay scattered across different tables, while bookcases lay mostly empty, with a mere dozen books at most seating on three rows of bookcases. The rest were occupied by mountainous stacks of paper and clay figurines of warriors from different lands.
Lamont stood up and waved the letter in front of his nephew's face. "Kio, read this. What Blerun had written might interest you."
The younger otter nodded and read the dispatch aloud. "Dear Father, I hope you are well. This morning I received the Aventofts into Gystra, but the Emperor Kiordan made a quite sudden appearance in the city as well as Erlend of Kaldos. I have given them food and shelter as befitting guests of Southsward and they have so far given us respect as well. However, I cannot shake the feeling that something is being planned behind our backs. I hope all is well in Floret, and I hope Mother and you are both in health. Blerun."
"Blerun's a terse one as you can see," muttered Lamont, standing up and reaching for some document on one of the bookcases. "But he's honest, at least when he's speaking to me."
"What is my grandfather doing in Gystra?"
"That's his business, not mine. He could be here to pick you up, patch relations up with Erlend, or even scout ahead for a potential invasion. Your father's presence in Gystra is even less surprising, at least in my opinion. He is a very predictable beast, driven by his desires, instincts and emotions since the day he was born."
"You do not think he is a good ruler then."
"Indeed I do not. His judgement is clouded."
"Then what makes one effective?"
Lamont thrust a piece of paper before Kiormund. "Take a look at this."
Kiormund quickly scanned through the words. "A complaint from the Fishmongers' Guild. The Army had seized one of their halls for a fort extension."
"Tell me what you would do if you happened to be in my shoes."
"I'd ask General Rikart to reimburse the guildsbeasts. It wastheir property, after all, and it is only right to repay them."
"Would this change your mind?" Lamont handed Kiormund another document. "This tells Rikart's side of the story."
"He has royal assent for this, and since the army is overstretched and preparing for a Tarelian invasion at any moment they need every extension they can get." Kiormund winced. "It sounds like an excuse."
"It is an excuse," said Lamont. "But pointing this out to Rikart would not do much. You are his peer, not his proofreader." The Steward pointed a finger at his nephew. "With the additional evidence, what do you think is the best thing to do now?"
"I'd reimburse the Guild out of my own pockets," answered Kiormund. "The guildmates would be placated, and Rikart would owe us a favour."
"Well done, Kiordan Gudmund Streambattle." Lamont clapped his paws slowly. "But not well enough." Kiormund cocked his head to his left as Lamont sat down again. "I know you're confused, so allow me to explain. You are all set to be a generous prince, yes, but generosity has its downsides. What if the event played out again and again? You would not be able to stop the rapid growth of forts all around Floret, like weeds in a garden. You would be paying for it, in fact. Rikart and I are friends, yes, but in time a new beast shows up, with a face you do not know, fortifications across the capital and control over five thousand pressed vermin and five times as many woodlanders, all of them armed, you would have realised that maybe going behind your friend's back is not that bad of an idea after all."
Kiormund tried to insist that that would not happen, but his throat felt dry and slick, and no words formed from his mouth.
Lamont sighed. "Look, I know how it feels to befriend a beast who you trust very much, but your duties as a friend are far inferior to your duties to those you are to watch over. All three hundred thousand souls of Helskerland are to be your responsibility, if you're lucky. Great Seasons help you if your father decides on somewhere more populated. I know of your affinity with Skuli's son, and even the blind and the deaf could decipher that he has plans that involve you."
"Do you believe that Egil would betray me?"
"'Could' is a better term compared to 'would', but yes. Vermin nature or not, he does not sound like a beast of much sentimentality. If the best way to fulfil his goals is to throw you under the cart, so as to speak, he will." For the first time since Kiormund had arrived in Floret, a genuine scowl appeared over Lamont's muzzle. "Theft, deceit and bargain. A ruler who does not master them will be mastered by them. Not the most ethical of trios, but even those are better than the carnage of open war."
Kiormund collapsed in his seat. "Is it that hard to keep a clear conscience?"
Lamont nodded. "A taste for such luxuries is not befitting of a lord."
