Chapter 30
The Brigand's Game
I feel an army in my fist! -Karl Moor, The Robbers by Friedrich Schiller
Egil had the Fates to thank that the roads had not turned to mud, even after the winter rains had come once and again.
The beasts at the front of the group had it better than the ferret. What paths past generations of Southswarders had created were almost as good as the Briscans' creations, such as the road leading from Gystra to Kaldos. Via Borealis, they called it. The Northern Road. Their power could project no further than the otter tribes of Travrik, and so they never encountered the Southswarders and their equally impressive armies.
The stone road was stained with sludge, picked up from the last weeks of abuse under the footpaws of royal and imperial escorts. The skies remained mostly grey as usual, and the woods that once surrounded the road were now far away in the distance, cleared out by tens of thousands of workers and lumber-beasts. Still, the way the sun descended into the western horizon lit up the world for a few brief moments, banners of bells and adders blazing just as brightly in the dusk as cedars and pines.
"Tired already?" asked Egil, turning to Kiormund.
The otter nodded. He had been lost in thought throughout most of the journey, only talking to Egil or himself at select intervals, mostly mealtimes. The ferret had tried to accommodate his friend by giving him some space, but two weeks passed by without much verbal input from the otter. Whenever Egil's eyesight turned towards him Kiormund had looked away, and the ferret had finally decided to walk to the front to speak with his friend.
Kiormund gave the ferret a nervous smile. "I'm a bit nervous."
"About the lordship?"
"And a great many things. But that is still the top of my concerns." He cocked up his head. "How were you doing back there?"
"Not particularly poorly. The Aventofts were banished to the back, remember?"
Kiormund nodded, wincing as he stumbled over a particularly large stone on the road. "I know, I saw Lamont quarrelling with Lord Willem."
"Oh? What exactly happened?" asked the ferret, his whiskers twitching.
"Willem thought his younger brother would be marrying Jacoba in Floret, but we both know that did not happen, and that the princess is on her way to Redwall. They both felt cheated, but only one of them complained, and so Joakim watched as Lamont threw everything at him."
"Figuratively, or literally?"
The otter chuckled. "Only figuratively! As much as I would have loved to see my uncle pick up a stick or a chair and throw it, he still has control over himself. He isn't a king, he is just first amongst equals, and doesn't have much authority over his fellow subjects."
"Well, he carries himself like one. Why not give himself a shiny new crown?"
"Because the lords who hate him would just swarm behind Jacoba's cause, and that might be enough to tip Rikart against him." Kiormund shrugged. "And who knows what my father would do?" The otter flashed a quick smile. "Every night Grandfather tells me to take a closer look at everybeast else, to try and guess what everybeast wants."
Egil patted the back of his friend's head. "Looks like it's working."
"Thank you," replied Kiormund, looking ahead. "Oh look, we're almost there!"
The ferret squinted. "This isn't Gystra."
"Well, we're staying in a town for the night before we move on - we should arrive tomorrow."
"Right," mused Egil. Somehow news had not been leaked to the back of the column.
Moments later, everything started to wind down. Firstly the town opened its gates, and its mayor, a lanky hedgehog, walked out. From the corner of his eye, the young ferret watched as Lamont emerged from the camp to greet his subordinate, and after a delicate embrace, the Steward gestured to his brother to come forth.
"Do you know what place this is?" asked Kiormund.
Turning back to his friend, Egil nodded. "Fellston - passed through here when we went to pick you up, but we didn't have a reason to stay - we went further ahead at Wenstrid instead."
"Let's see if they have a place for us to stay," said Kiormund softly, stretching his arms, "I assume your footpaws have been killing you as well."
"You can say that again!"
Fitting the entire procession of beasts into the little inn proved to be impossible, so only those who were Southswarders were given the right to use it. Erlend did not find himself in the category above, but a few whispers from Lamont soon made the inkeep acquiesce.
The crowdedness forced Kiormund and Egil to share a single room, and indeed they were not alone. The otter's grandfather was here as well as Niels Waveguard, who decided to occupy the bed on the other side of the room.
Supper that night was quite an eventful affair. A hearty stew with potatoes, stale bread and woodpigeon was offered to the town's 'most eminent foreign guests', together with a casserole made with more meat and white beans. "This is the best we have ever offered!" said the innkeeper, a lean shrew-wife. "A single bite of this, and you'll never say the Travrikans across the river make anything baked better than us Southswarders!"
"I'm suddenly glad Father isn't here," whispered Kiormund, waving away a small platter of stuffed squid from Niels with an apology. "He'd probably be a bit too angry to enjoy the food."
Grabbing more bread from the table, Egil dipped his head in agreement. "That does sound like him alright."
"He needs to slow down," interjected Niels, licking his lips. "He needs to enjoy life."
"He's a proper lord, Nibbles," said Kiordan, chuckling. "I assure you, to rule is to stress oneself out, to not leave room for oneself to fall into comfort. Birnardu told me it's a mire that sucks all manifestations of virtue away from an ideal prince."
"And you ignored him."
"So I did, to my regret." The emperor shook his head, evidently ruminating on events long past. "Now I can see a bit clearer, for I am much older and maybe somewhat wiser. But both of us have accepted a little caveat when I grew into my adulthood."
"And what is that?" asked Egil, gulping down what remained of the bread he had taken.
"The word 'ideal' is not one that applies to me, no matter how hard I try. I prefer 'exceptional', thank you very much."
Niels rolled his eyes. "Surely you can pass the day without a teensy bit of self-aggrandisement?"
Burying a knife into a stuffed tomato, the emperor laughed aloud. "I've seen the world for seven decades, it should occur to you that I can say whatever I want."
"If you say so."
After the main courses were served and eaten, the shrew returned with a few cups of mulled wine and a massive pie. When the lid of the latter was removed Kiormund and Egil gasped in unison, both of them having seen how many cherries were baked into it. "Enjoy this well!" she said as she went back down into the kitchen. "It's good enough for beasts to cross the Udso just to taste this!"
"Ah, black cherries!" gasped Kiordan. "A very Southswarder fruit - one that makes the mouth water, and gives newfound respect to the versatility of the cooks across the sea." He sliced the pie open twice, then took his slice away. "Not like those back in Otharn - they like cherries sour, and I often wonder where they got the idea of making liquor from them."
"Have you ever tried one of those cakes in the Marches?" asked Niels. "They use cherry liquor to flavour them."
"Interesting. Have you?"
"Once or twice. Never went there that much - when I have to travel to Kalopolis I usually go via the sea route instead."
While the two elder beasts talked about the greatest city of the south, Egil took one of the remaining pieces of the pie and cut out a bit of it with his fork. When it made contact with his tongue his eyes widened - he had not expected such bitterness! As he chewed through the cooked dough and bit through the cherries he took his time spitting the seeds away, and sat alone, almost blind to the world around him, as a peculiar sweetness spread over his tongue.
"Erm, can I…"
Egil's reverie was broken as Kiormund pointed to the mug in front of him, full of wine and topped by a slice of orange.
"You need your wits for tonight," responded his grandfather, passing his mug over to Niels. "All of them."
"But it's cold," said the youngest otter. "And surely I can get some normal sleep? Tomorrow's quite the day, and I need some rest."
Kiordan sat still for a few moments before he nodded. "Fine. Only one cup - or you won't be getting the 'normal sleep' you so desire."
As Kiormund drank from his mug Egil lifted his own. Arni would have loved it here. Good food, warm wine, the company of a few pleasant beasts… it would take him an eternity for him to admit that he wanted all this. "And that would make me no longer the only non-otter here…"
0000
Later that evening Kiormund reached into his bag and showed Egil a box.
"Finally got a place to play this!" said the otter, placing it atop their room's desk.
"What's this?" asked Egil, who was busy appreciating their room. It was the second best residence for guests (Kiordan and Niels took the best one of course), but the ferret could ask for no better. Beside the desk there were two wooden chairs, and although they both had uneven legs they were usable. The beds were as soft as they came in a village, and to Egil's relief no insects could be seen on the reddish-brown walls.
"It's a board game!" Kiormund smiled as he undid the lock on the case. "I bought it from a Kyrrabeck merchant - I thought we'd be together for longer. But at least we can play this while we're busy in Gystra."
The ferret moved over to the chair opposite Kiormund as the otter pulled out the pieces out one by one and handed all the lighter pieces to his friend. "I'm going to play with the black stones so you go first."
Egil took a long look at the little wooden pieces as Kiormund placed his on the board. The otter, evidently puzzled by the ferret's expression, drooped his whiskers. "You're confused?"
"No, the opposite. I've played this before, actually, back in Trazond."
The otter dipped his head. "Oh. I thought you were new."
"That doesn't mean we can't play though - but maybe you'd like to switch the board around?"
"I don't see a problem with that!" The otter rotated the board, took over Egil's pieces, and started placing them again, but before he could finish Egil grabbed his paw.
"You're supposed to place just one, then I place another, and then you follow suit until we have none left."
"Huh. That is not what the beast who sold me the game told me."
"It could just be a different version I played in the South. It's been a few seasons, and if you want we can play by your rules."
Kiormund nodded. "Don't fret about it - I want to know how you play yours."
Egil took a piece and placed it on the board, two spaces away from Kiormund's. "Your turn - remember to put these the right side up!"
"Or we'll think they're captured and can't move." mused Kiormund, placing one on the corner.
Egil followed suit, and soon enough sixteen pieces were now occupying a fourth of the board. "It's your move!" said the ferret.
"I would like to check something - you can leap over your own pieces, right? As long as there is an open square behind them."
"And mine as well! Just note that pieces can only be captured-"
"By trapping them between two of your pieces one square away, on the same rank or file."
Egil smiled as Kiormund looked at him intently. "You're quite good at this! We'll see if you can actually take-"
Kiormund flipped one of Egil's light pieces as he moved one of his own a square away.
"Huh, that's a bit direct." The piece that Kiormund had moved was turned around as Egil moved one of his own pieces. "But that's a trade well done. Now your pieces have punched a hole around my strategy, but you might have exposed a few around the sides."
"You speak as if we're at war!" chuckled Kiormund.
Egil shrugged. "The Briscans called it the game of brigands, robbers, soldiers, mercenaries - they are the same word in their Oldspeak." He watched as one of Kiormund's pieces retreated, and smiled. "They say it's a game about military tactics, and how cohesion is a surefire way to pursue victory… but every now and then a desperate, borderline insane, but well-coordinated assault could work wonders on the field of battle."
"You mean like that?" Kiormund moved a piece up on his left.
The ferret decided to ignore the obvious provocation and move a piece to the side as well. "Let's see - I'm no seer or prophet, I can't see the future!"
Kiormund gave a little chuckle as he lifted up a piece and shunted it forward, but he reversed course and moved it to the right instead.
"Ooh, you almost fell into my trap," said Egil, pushing one of his own to the back to stick to the rest. "You're better at observation than I thought."
"There's always that little voice in my head that tells me what to do or not do."
"I know, I know. Everyone has a conscience," scoffed Egil, moving one of his pieces between Kiormund's.
"Huh, can you do that?"
"Only when I can tie up one of your pieces as well!" The ferret shot his friend a smile as he flipped two pieces, one of each colour, with a single flick of his paw. "And now you can't capture my pinned piece as easily as I did, since your other free pieces are further away."
"I should have known you were up to something!" said Kiormund, moving a piece to join up with one on an adjacent square.
"You might want to hold back on trying to defend everything on the board," said Egil, leaping over one of his own pieces to tie up one of Kiormund's near the bottom right corner.
"Isn't a solid defence key to a steady attack?"
"You're right," said Egil, watching as Kiormund pinned another of Egil's pieces. "But you need to pick your areas of focus well. Remember what beasts said about this being a game of war?"
Kiormund nodded before his brows furrowed when Egil grabbed one of his pinned pieces and removed it from the board.
"My father says they're wrong a lot, and that trying to frame this as a battle or a war is futile. It's more like a long, drawn-out series of negotiations."
"Very intense negotiations, I take it?" The otter moved one of his pieces across and above another of his own, then one of Egil's.
Egil gave a curt nod. "The ones that everyone knows that they'll have to give things up… but you have to make sure as much good comes out of your sacrifices as possible." He pointed at Kiormund's last move with one paw before shifting one of his own to tie it up. "This isn't one of them, I'd say."
"Really?" Another one of Kiormund's pieces moved up a space, hindering one of Egil's from moving or leaping.
The ferret chuckled as his piece leaped over three of Kiormund's to block the otter's attack. "Well, there are better ones… and you're not risking all of your pieces. You're down to five mobile pieces, so you could either cling on to what you possess with desperation and stubbornness… or you could try using what you have left to wreak as much havoc on my pieces as possible. Spite is quite motivational, is it not?"
The otter looked into Egil's eyes after he made a move as well. "Do you think there's a single ounce of spite in me?"
The ferret laughed as he flipped over yet another one of Kiormund's pieces. "This depends on how much you lose at my paws!"
Egil, of course, won the game, and the two that followed. The second game was closer than the ferret had initially thought, while the third one simply was not. Eventually Kiormund could take no more metaphorical beatings, and heeding the advice of his father he decided to get some early sleep, and Egil had little choice but to follow suit.
His dreams were uneventful as always – there was a view from a mountain and an old rat talking more at him than to him, but Egil could not remember a single word he said.
When the ferret woke up from his fitful sleep, Kiormund was still trapped in slumber, and so he decided to take a walk around the village.
The cold air of winter gripped Fellston like a vice, and Egil muttered thanks to his father for buying him a thick coat a season ago. His breaths echoed around his ears as vapour spewed from his nostrils, and he chuckled lightly at the sight, thinking of the times his sister spent together with him in Kaldos.
The sun had barely turned white, and a red glow still lingered above the ground, the winter mists absent from this part of the world. Lit up by sunlight, the sea too sparkled, and the ferret subconsciously walked towards it.
The ferret sat down amongst the stones that made up the beach, tossing one into the waters at intervals. He took care to avoid the sea though - the winter cold would bite down on him even more if cold water made contact with his trousers. The joy of pointing at fishes and clams was not worth that discomfort.
Eventually Egil grew bored and stood up and walked back, only to catch the sound of more pawsteps. Could it just be the town waking up?
The ferret crouched behind the wall as he heard a voice – a very familiar one at that. Freezing to a halt, Egil focused.
It was Joakim of Aventoft. "That's the best you can offer me?"
"The paw of Romilda of Gelsbaum comes with a force two thousand strong and four castles - which is more than your brother will ever hand over to you."
"But-"
Lamont Streambattle cut away the young squirrel's objections with a wave of his paw. "Your search for a marriage with Princess Jacoba is a lost cause, little lord." He patted Joakim on the shoulder. "It's either her or a very long wait."
The squirrel dipped his head as his ears bent inward. His brother would have fought harder, thought Egil, and he would have crashed harder as well.
"Do you seek an explanation?" asked the otter, smoothing out a loose whisker. "Romilda is an elector of Otharn, one of seven beasts. Two we know we cannot trust - there's Kiordan who controls Eichfurt and Bertrada of Lorsa, married to the King of Tarelis. My son Blerun will marry one of the Waveguards, and we will have a vote in paw. With your help we could have two - and if the little event in Gystra goes well we may get one more - two if we're lucky."
"And then we can get an emperor favourable to Southsward."
"I intend to go further than that," said Lamont, ruffling Joakim's headfur. "We'll get a Southswarder emperor - and if things play out the way we want them to, your short little tail will be neatly placed on the stones of Kurburg, bathed in glory and swimming in respect. Otharn has received four otterkings in a row, but if we have the votes we can stop the Skywards from monopolising the office. Do you understand?"
"What about the princess?"
"There's Erramun of Marratz. We get two descendants of Gael marrying, we bring Marratz back to the Southswarder fold, and we get to have peace with Tarelis."
Joakim shook his head. "This isn't all you want, right? I'm quite sure this isn't."
Lamont gave a brisk nod as his brows furrowed. "The Tarelians never agree to anything. They say they're too young to wed, but we both know Gudmund would never let Marratz leave his lap! We needed to threaten him with the princess marrying somebeast else to spur him to action - and he's heading to Gystra with more of my kin."
"So you just used me all this time?"
"Southsward used you. Southsward's still using me. All I do, I do for the good of the realm."
"That's not the truth." grumbled the squirrel.
"You disagree with me."
"If you truly acted for the realm you'd let us squirrels have more of a say! We founded the realm, you otters only seek to benefit from it, like leeches! I've got a gut feeling you're no different from your brother – now try keeping your treason in the open like him!"
Lamont's fist collided with Joakim's stomach before the squirrel could finish his rant. As he collapsed onto the ground, clutching his abdomen with both paws. "Thanks to me, now you have another gut feeling that false accusations of treachery are not to be tolerated. I hope you'll thank me for the insight – once you recover, that is."
As the otter went on his way, Egil decided to hurry back to the inn, but as he walked back into the main square he was greeted with another sight. Perhaps not as interesting as the Steward of Castle Floret assaulting a slanderous noble, but not anything dull either.
Egil found himself standing with his mouth agape as his father engaged in a conversation with Lorelei Skyward, daughter of the emperor and mother of his friend.
C/N: It looks like I'm going to be called away, but I can be here to talk a bit.
So... we've finally arrived in Gystra, a marvellous and great city which I had been to back in Chapter 5. If you missed that, read it, it's my author's best work.
Anyway, it's pretty fun of Kio to play a game with me, though I don't see the point of not putting the result in. I'm sure Kio would love to say he won, though the result was clear from the beginning. I was able to seize a magnificent victory! I'm sure we'll get to play again though! With all this politics circling Kiormund like sharks I do worry about him... but as long as we are together there is nothing we cannot handle!
Again, the usual. Thank you for reading my chapter, and I hope you give me a good review.
