Chapter 12
What Was
Try, dare the dead tread ahead on a road that was borrowed design.
Through the sum of their suns do they seek tomorrow.
Tonight, witness then as the end shall begin what was final.
Their lies, folding back, further back, ever back to the primal.
-lyrics of eScape, by Masayoshi Soken
Two days had passed since that pointless council meeting. Now, Kiormund found himself standing outside the council chamber once more, waiting for Lamont to show up.
When the otter talked to Veil the night before, he told the ferret to tour the city again, but in the daytime. Perhaps he would be impressed, perhaps he would not. In any case, he would be out of Kiormund's fur for the time being.
This, however, meant that he had nobeast to talk to.
The young otter paced around the hallway, occasionally stopping to take a good look through the windows. The Belltower rang for a third time that afternoon, and the citybeasts began to set up their stalls for the evening market. The sights and smells there appealed to Kiormund, but the sheer number of beasts crowded together in a single location was less enticing.
The sound of pawsteps made its way into Kiormund's ears, and he turned to face a very familiar marten. Unlike his sister, Dennol's uniform was rather unkempt, with his shirt barely tucked in and his collar undone.
"Good afternoon, Dennol," said Kiormund, managing a smile.
"Good day to you, pup." The marten's eyes wavered as he turned to look at the doors in front of the council room. "Have you seen another otter enter here?"
"Not that I recall." Kiormund's head cocked to his left as he wondered what otter Dennol was talking about. "What would that beast look like?"
"Dark grey fur and a little scar down by his chin. Looks a bit like you, really."
"Then no, we never met."
"Ah well, thank you for your help." Dennol turned away to leave, but couldn't resist asking another question. "Why are you here?"
"My uncle decided to take me out of the castle for an excursion. He says he wants me to meet somebeast I should get to know."
"Fair enough," Dennol shot the otter a swift smile. "Have a good day with your special friend then. I'm sure you're going to have a good life with her."
"Life?" Kiormund's eyes widened. "No- you have the wrong idea!" But Dennol was already gone, leaving him nothing to do but to pace around the hall.
It was one of those moments where he actually wished for Veil to come to him. The otter supposed that phantoms and ghosts had a mind of their own, and they would often ignore the summons of the living if they so wished. Still, this was a time when he would do much more good for Kiormund next to him than farther away.
Another few minutes passed before Lamont appeared, together with his youngest son.
"Good morning, Uncle Lamont," said Kiormund, breaking into a short bow. "You look rather different today."
The Steward glanced at his attire. A black hood covered his brown-furred body and the beige tunic he was wearing. Far from being one of the preeminent personalities from the realm, Lamont Streambattle looked more like a simple merchant trying to find his lost wares. "Of course I do. I have no need for attention from all those commoners - I am here simply to escort three beasts to pay my father a visit, nothing more."
"Your father?" Kiormund rubbed his head. "Lord Erlend never told me much about him."
"That's because he died when I was two seasons old and Erlend hadn't been born yet." Lamont rolled his eyes. "Besides, your father rarely talked to you about anybeast. Or anything, for that matter."
The young otter nodded as he turned towards Finnbarr. He was in a shirt and trousers that were too large for him - Kiormund's cousin was also in one of Blerun's old attires. "Then why did you join up?"
"I've always wanted to see more of Floret. I never really got the chance to get out of the castle gates, and every time I do it's on one of Father's trips to Travrik."
"Why not?"
"His mother wouldn't let him," said Lamont. "Please don't tell her about today."
Kiormund shrugged. "No promises."
"Besides," Finnbarr continued. "I wanted to spend some more time with you."
"Oh?"
"Life here is quite lonely, with Blerun gone and Rab having his pups to deal with. You've been a good friend, and a wonderful kinsbeast. I've heard that you'll be leaving soon, so…"
"Er, um, thank you very much," muttered Kiormund. "But who's the third beast that would be accompanying us?"
"Why, our gracious Lady Jacoba, of course." Lamont chuckled dryly. "She is anxious to perform her duties as a daughter and check on her father's remains, the same way I do. Oh look, here she is."
Jacoba looked more like a flustered maid than a stately princess in her grey kirtle and straw hat. It served its purpose to conceal who she was, but the squirrel looked none too happy about it. "Make this quick, Steward."
Lamont winked at her. "I only promise to try."
The four beasts exited the gates of Castle Floret together, with Lamont taking the lead and Kiormund the rear. The sun slowly drifted out over the sea and down towards the horizon, and the chilly north wind was all too eager to take its place.
"Uncle Lamont, do you happen to have an extra coat?" asked Kiormund. It was apparent that a simple jacket was not enough protection against the rapidly encroaching cold.
Lamont grumbled under his hood. "You knew the weather was getting crisp. Unless you're that dense, which I hope you aren't."
"It's just that I do not have much to wear," replied Kiormund. "I didn't pack much because I was expecting to be back home by this time of the season. Instead, you decided to lock me up in a tower, wondering what would happen to me every single night."
"That's a fair reason, I suppose," said the otterlord, quickening his pace. "The winds will be less piercing down below." He paused as he scratched his head. "I forgot to ask this: where is 'home' for you?"
"Pardon me?"
"Home. Is it Kaldos with its cool summers, Miszbork with its bustling markets, or Wossaham with its beautiful canals? Which of these do you say would be 'home' for you?"
"I, erm…"
The younger otter's thoughts were interrupted by Finnbarr giving his father a nudge. "Kio's a bit uncomfortable. Maybe you could give him some time to think?"
Lamont nodded and didn't speak. Instead, he turned left at the base of the stairs leading away from the castle and into the town. As Finnbarr grabbed his father for a conversation, Jacoba patted Kiormund on the shoulder. "First time inside Floret proper, hm?"
"Second, technically. I was here when Captain Urza delivered me into Lamont's care. I didn't see much though. From what I've read, the city is big - almost as large as Kalopolis in the far south. So I'm willing to see more of it, despite my unfortunate circumstances."
"You have much to see then." Out in the streets, Princess Jacoba sounded like a wholly different beast, far from the haughty airhead Kiormund thought her to be when they first met a couple of days ago.
"I know of the Belltower and the Castle, and perhaps a bit of the Harbour, but nothing more than that, I'm afraid."
"Clearly you only saw the slightest extent of what our realm has to offer then!" The squirrel's ears twitched. "You haven't seen all the markets and the guildhalls and the theatres!"
"I'd like to visit these places! They sound every bit as grand as you'd expect them to be. Floret is a great city indeed."
"I hope it stays as great." Jacoba's eyes turned towards Lamont. "Our Steward seems quite insistent on bringing up Gystra to Floret's level."
"Well, it's just by the Ring Sea, so more trade could reach it. It's also on the Udso, so it's easier to manage the Travrikans that way."
"I'm sure Gystra would make for a good capital, but Floret was where the realm was born, where Joseph the Bellmaker triumphed over Urgan Nagru, where king after king resisted siege after siege! To move away from here would be nothing more than an insult, especially by an uppity servant who grasps at every scrap of royal dignity he can scrounge up."
Kiormund's eyes sprung open "He wouldn't usurp the throne, would he? He's far too intelligent for that, considering the fates of those who tried."
"He married a king's daughter after your mother turned him down, and he certainly acts more important than he actually is."
Kiormund pondered whether the beast who ran the realm was fit to place a crown upon his head, then he wondered if the beast who slumbered in his own council had the right to do the same. "We could agree to disagree."
Jacoba rolled her eyes. "So we could, otter, so we could."
"Here we are!" remarked Lamont, moving away from Finnbarr to lean on an old statue of Joseph the Bellmaker. "Floret Belltower!"
Kiormund gasped as he stared straight ahead. He had seen the structure from the windows of the castle, but it was even more imposing than he thought it would be. The young otter had heard all the tales about the sheer scale of the building - nearby buildings had to be demolished because the bells' vibrations would ruin them anyway - but up close things were different. The frigid north wind carried the scent of stone and fallen leaves to Kiormund's nose as he looked up. The tower was made of white limestone, with images of flowers and bells carved onto it. Its five spires, one for each bell, shot up into the heavens like arrows, and four surrounded the central one the same way life in Southsward revolved around its king. That was the case in theory, at least.
"You are enjoying the sight, are you not?" asked Lamont, patting his nephew's head and lifting his arms high. "Now enjoy the sound!"
Kiormund closed his eyes to hear something, anything, but all his ears could pick up were the howling of the wind and the distant chattering of citybeasts.
"Father," said Finnbarr, "you're always a few seconds off."
Lamont chuckled. "Well, maybe next time-"
A great ring from the top of the tower quickly sent the Steward into silence.
"That's the Dandin bell!" remarked Jacoba. "The Mariel one comes next."
"And then the Finnbarr, followed by the two royals." Lamont's son smiled at the princess. "Seasons, if I get that wrong again Daghild might just kill me."
"Oh, I'm sure she will!" said the squirrel as the Mariel bell swung and chimed, as loudly as it was quick.
"You were right, Finn. Floret needs one of those waterclocks outside of the castle, I think."
"Do we have the money for it?" asked Jacoba, crossing her arms once again as the sound from the Finnbar Bell ripped through the air,
"Well, we used to, until you suggested getting an army into Mossflower and having to pay for it."
"We projected our might up north, and we managed to obtain the friendship of Redwall and Salamandastron! They would be able to provide help if we called for it!"
"It is still not worth the cost! By the time they would have arrived we wouldn't have lingered long enough to put up a proper challenge to-"
Kiormund's attention was quickly wrenched away by the appearance of a familiar ferret.
"Ooh, look." said Veil, clinging back to Kiormund. "You're here as well."
"My uncle decided to let me see somebeast important."
"I doubt you'll find anybeast important up the tower, or any other beast for that matter. There were a few workbeasts who were ringing the bells. Gates, climbing up there was exhausting."
"Couldn't you just float up there?" asked Kiormund, earning a scowl from Veil.
"I don't know. Can you?"
"Of course I can't! I'm not the ghost out of the two of us."
"I'll have you know floating is rather tiring. Sometimes I just want to walk, to feel the floor creaking beneath my footpaws." The ghostly ferret looked at his blood-red paw. "But I don't think I'll be doing any of that anytime soon. I spent my one chance at life somewhat poorly."
Before Kiormund could respond he felt a paw tugging on his ear. He tried to remove it, but Lamont was having none of that. "Maybe you could stop talking to yourself and pay attention to your surroundings?"
The young otter frantically nodded.
"Good!" The Steward let go of his nephew, smirking as he rubbed his ear. "That was more satisfying than it had any right to be." He turned to the squirrel. "We will now be going down the Belltower."
"Down?" asked Jacoba. "I think you mean up, right?"
"Down means down. We're going underneath the city."
"Underneath?" Kiormund rubbed his head.
The otter could hear Veil's voice. "There must be a tunnel underneath, silly."
"Let me guess," Kiormund continued. "Tunnel underneath?"
"Correct!" said Lamont with a smile as all five bells finally finished their tolling. "Try being more attentive from now on. I can assure you what is below our treasured Belltower is as interesting as what is above."
"I understand," replied his nephew. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," said the ferret, disappearing back into the world of dreams.
The quartet walked forward a few steps. Lamont showed the guard, a mouse with a spear, some documents, and they were let into the tower.
The Steward quickly grabbed a pair of lamps hanging from the wall, and with the help of two guards, the mouse and a weasel, propped a trapdoor open. He led the way into the dark, with Finnbarr faithfully following. A few seconds ticked past as Kiormund and Jacoba stared at each other before the former slipped down the stairs, and the latter soon made the descent as well.
"Here we are," said Lamont. "The Floret Crypt. Finnbarr, you do the explaining."
"Yes, Father," the young otter nodded as he grabbed a lamp. "Joseph the Bellmaker made these tunnels to house the remains of the royals he served, and they would get expanded both sideways and downwards by future rulers. The mouse got his rightful place here - until he got moved into a separate mausoleum as per King Truffen's last will. Still, a precedent was set that capable ministers would have a place alongside the kings they served."
"What about incapable ones?" asked Jacoba, shooting a glance at the Steward.
"Ooh, some of them are hastily buried near their home, or nobeast bothered to record where they remain." interrupted Lamont.
On and on the tunnels went, and Kiormund wondered if there would be an end to them. Finnbarr located his namesake's sepulchre, awkwardly shoved into an outcrop in the wall to the left. Lamont proceeded to spend the next few minutes recounting the life and times of Finnbarr Galedeep, with only Finnbarr and Veil being remotely interested in what he had to say. Jacoba remained silent, but furrowed brows and pursed lips revealed things words could not.
"Kiormund, do you remember Haimo Harlessant?"
"I think so. He helped one of Gaels reform taxation. The Sixth?"
"Fifth, actually. He was absolutely despised for it." Lamont pointed to a worn sandstone effigy depicting a slumbering hare, with one of his paws clasping a book and the other placed his chest. "Here he is! Or rather, what's left of him."
"His funeral procession was intercepted by an angry crowd, and after they were done with him his remains had to be scooped back into the coffin!" Finnbarr somehow had a massive smile on his face after recalling the morbid deed, and a turn to the right by Kiormund indicated that Veil also bore the same expression.
"Don't mind me," said the ferret, taking some form of pleasure from Kiormund's look of abject horror. "I'm just listening."
"Finn, be respectful. The dead lie here."
"I'm sorry, Father." The Steward's whiskers twitched. "Still, Haimo managed to die a peaceful death after decades of service. Whether you think that is deserving is very much subjective."
"What do you think about it?" asked Kiormund. "The fact that everybeast might hate you for all you have done?"
"To be honest I have not thought of that much," replied Lamont.
"Shame." Jacoba shook her head. "I was looking forward to your answer."
Kiormund took a closer look at the hare's funerary monument. One of his ears appeared to have been broken off, and cracks had begun to show up in his legs. Above the statue was written some barely legible Oldspeak. The otter recognised words and phrases like 'hare', 'Steward' and 'loving memory', but he did not have the time to fully analyse it. That task should be left to the Archivist moles. The otter thought of whether this long-dead hare was fit to have an honourable burial, in the most sacred site in all Southsward. Then he thought of what bits and pieces of Haimo were, in fact, interred with some manner of dignity in the Crypt. And then he thought about his sudden loss of appetite, and if he should talk to Lamont about skipping dinner.
Another dozen tombs later Kiormund observed that the hares and otters and mice were gone, all replaced by squirrels. Some were dressed in the robes befitting great kings, others were merely clothed in the uniforms of soldiers, and yet more tombs were simply tiny boxes. They were built to house squirrelkits, Kiormund thought, as a nod from Veil somewhat confirmed the otter's suspicions.
"Here we are," said Lamont, his usual enthusiasm failing him. "The tomb of Prince Alberik of Southsward, or 'Albericus Princeps Meridiae' as it is etched here. Your father, my friend."
"Aren't you supposed to leave offerings behind?" asked Kiormund. "Like fruit or dried nuts or scented candles?"
"That's an Imperial custom," replied Jacoba, turning to face what remained of her father. "Not known to or practiced by us Southswarders."
"What use are goods wrought from the physical world for those who have passed on?" Lamont rubbed his cheek. "A few kind words at least help you feel better and the end, whether the beast in question does or not."
"I hope he does then," said Kiormund. "He sounded like a goodbeast."
"Depends on your definition of 'goodbeast', really. Still, he is missed by the realm, robbed of a king that knew it well."
Finnbarr stepped forward. "And you too, father?"
The Steward nodded. "Leave us." Finnbarr turned away, patting his cousin on the shoulder, which led him to scarper towards the wall as well.
Several minutes passed as Kiormund stood. The otter could see Lamont and Jacoba muttering something, but in the dim light far underneath Floret he simply could not discern the nature of their words.
After what seemed like an eternity Jacoba bowed towards her father's remains and slowly walked back the way she came, with Lamont proceeding to do the same, and the four beasts stood within the crypt in silence, one with Lamont broke.
"I understand that you are worried about yourself." The Steward turned to Jacoba. "Know that I will never hurt you, the daughter of the brother I wish I had."
Kiormund knew better to open his mouth as Jacoba responded. "But why treat me like an ornament? I'm next in line to the Southswarder throne, no matter what those Tarelians say. Why deny me my right to rule, my right to be who I am destined to be?"
"Because you are not suited to the task. Not even remotely. I may be a mere Steward, but there are at least half a dozen beasts who seek to guide a dagger into my spine, my brother among them. Kings and queens never rest easy, and the more power one has, the harder and fiercer they have to fight to keep it. I swore to Alberik to see you safe as long as there is breath in me. To see you on the throne would be to break my word. I hope you understand."
Jacoba's eyes stared forward as her teeth clenched, but she remained silent.
"You three go back up," Lamont continued. "I will move forward to my father's grave, and see that his name and deeds are properly remembered, even if there is but one beast doing so. A child abandoning their parent is like a parent who forsakes their child. All-consuming suffering shall await them in this world and the next."
As Lamont turned away Kiormund swore that his uncle had shot him a glance, and that it was definitely no trick of the light.
