Chapter 32
Wrested
We're actors — we're the opposite of people!
-the Player, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, by Tom Stoppard
The entry into Gystra went as Lamont planned, and Kiormund was glad not to be the focus of the recently gathered crowds.
The Steward was in the centre of things, raising both arms as the citizens of Gystra cheered his name as loudly as a thunderclap. His new clothes, quartered with the adder of Gystra and the white wolf of Upper Travrik, shone like the sun as rays of light pierced into its stitched pearls and bounced off silk dyed with lapis lazuli. Both of Lamont's younger sons flanked him, with Blerun looking coldly upon the attention foisted upon his family while Finnbarr's smile gained many a stare from the onlookers and gasps of admiration from a particular group of ottermaids. He's got his mother's looks, thought Kiormund, and he isn't promised to anybeast yet. I hope he finds someone he loves.
The Emperor Kiordan hung behind Lamont, on a cart not as high as that of Gystra's lord. It was a slight and everybeast knew it, but the old otter had decided to take it in stride. After all, he was the only crowned head in the city. Willem of Southsward remained in Floret, where he could sleep to his heart's content, while Lamont decided to initiate the ceremony while Gudmund of Tarelis was days away to the west. Erlend, on the other paw, decided to stand away from his brother as far as possible in the plainest clothes he could muster.
To the right of Kiormund Lorelei watched as the crowds ignored the pair of mother and son. They were not important yet. She had ruled before and would again, though land and titles would elude her until one of her parents passed away. Kiormund himself would have to wait as well, depending on how the Helsker situation fashioned itself.
The otter was aware of more beasts he knew in the procession, but both Ospak Rainpeer and Niels Waveguard were out of sight, while his ferret friend had to mingle with the common soldiers.
Rousing himself out of his thoughts, Kiormund noticed his mother looking over the rooftops. Following her gaze, he gasped. "That's the wolf, right?"
Lorelei nodded. "His name is Sarno."
"Do you know why he's here?"
"He wants to see the wider world," replied his mother, "and report what he witnessed to his kin in the mountains."
The otter nodded. The wolves in Valence had many reputations. Kiordan once said to his grandson that they were a hospitable and honourable species, who repaid both good and evil done upon them twicefold. Marla said they were a simple race, while Erlend had told all his children stories of these lupines being able to turn other beasts into one of their kind with nothing more but a spiteful look. It took Lady Sigrid of all beasts to tell a young Kiormund that the rumours were false, so that he could once again sleep soundly at night. "But why here?" he asked. "Surely they could move into Garlesca or into Laskaros? It's closer."
"I cannot say I know," said Lorelei. "But I don't think it's a scout for an invasion."
"Why not?"
"Think about it, pup." She pointed towards her own head, wincing as the crowd burst into a cheer once more. "Can wolves swim better than us?"
"I don't know, I've never met one."
The older otter shook her head. "Well, can they swim from Wossaham to Helskerland? Kaldos? Gystra, even?"
"I don't think so…"
"Good. And they don't make good ships, so…"
"An invasion wouldn't be likely."
"Very good."
Kiormund's whiskers drooped as his mother patted his shoulder. "What do you think the wolves want here?"
"I suppose they just want to give their old home a new look." replied Lorelei, waving at the distant creature. "But anything Sarno says and does here could change my perspective. You have to keep an eye and an ear out for matters such as these."
"Oh?"
"A good ruler must be observant, in order to look ahead and see danger coming before it strikes you somewhere vulnerable. Not that everybeast can do that. There were two Emperors called Kiordan before you, and tumults in Ilsadia shook them both. Urgan Nagru took Gael Squirrelking unawares before he was in turn toppled, while Maconius took advantage of the incursion from our ancestors to proclaim himself Emperor of the North, before his attempt at disposing of the otters he hired went horribly wrong."
"Do you think I'll be a good lord?" asked Kiormund. "And could you please give an honest answer?"
"I must say you don't stand a high chance of being good," replied Lorelei. "But it does not matter – being a good ruler is hard, but not being a bad one is significantly simpler. Just do your best, and history shall not call you fatuous."
That was perhaps the most encouragement Kiormund could receive from his mother, so he decided to look into the distance once more.
The procession bent north when the road did so, letting Kiormund gaze across the river. Across the Udso the buildings were greyer – a different type of stone was no doubt used before there were bridges to bring materials from the more recent quarries. But since Gystra took on its current form the otterlords had built them with wood and later stone.
Bypassing a covered oaken bridge decorated with flowers for the ceremonies to come, the otter noticed cloth banners hanging on the streets. There were the chalices of Valence, the leaping fox of Helskerland, the turtle that the Laskarines once thought held the world on its shell, but largest of them all were two draped across the plaza outside the Amphitheatre. There the Southswarder bell hung opposing the Imperial raven, as if it were daring the bird to ring it. Flanking these great flags were pennants and gonfalons depicting two wolves, black and white. Lamont and Erlend, in one city, without bloodshed.
All the guests, noble or otherwise, pooled into the empty space, with Lorelei finding a spot next to Sigurd while Kiormund followed her. Lamont stepped onto a platform built for his use and began to speak, but before Kiormund could concentrate on what he was to say Sigurd tapped him on the shoulder.
"Kio! It feels so good to see you once more."
"Likewise," muttered the younger otter.
"Did you know your mother can open doors to different parts of the world and-"
"Not now, Sigurd," said Lorelei, shaking her head.
"What were you up to in the North?" asked Kiormund's brother. "Was Redwall Abbey a good place to live in? And what about the food?"
Kiormund's paws rubbed together. "Oh, it was exquisite! Sure, it may get a bit cold at times, and you know me and my coughs… but the food makes everything worth it! There's the pies and soups and stews and casseroles and–"
A final stare from his mother forced the otter's mouth shut as he refocused his attention towards his uncle.
"Peace between worthy beasts does not always last," he said to the gathering of beasts, "but it is infinitely preferable to the alternative, do you not think? Let us eat, drink and be merry! Let joy fill all the lands, and anguish and despair be driven away! And most importantly… let us treat our guests with more respect than befits their station!"
The cheer that came from the crowd was nowhere near deafening, but it was loud nonetheless, although Kiormund's mother showed no reaction. "Lamont is loved here, indeed…" she muttered. "So much so that his subjects refuse to cheer for his enemies even when he tells them to." She patted him on the shoulder. "Perhaps one day you'll be loved like this, by thousands upon thousands of beasts, willing to die and kill in your name."
"But I…" What would Mother say, having me complain about my privileges again? "Let's hope Father and you do things right and make the peace last."
Lorelei nodded. "You can trust us with our duty. Focus on yours."
When crowds started moving into the Amphitheatre, Kiormund followed. Lorelei did not see any reason to see her son stick to her at all times, and a promise to return to her on time was all it took for him to leave her for a few moments.
"I thought it would be higher up," muttered the otter, squeezing in between the two ferrets. Egil had found a seat with Skuli after shoving his way past the crowds, and they were considerate enough to occupy three seats instead of a mere two. "And are you sure I have to wear this?"
"Well, you're dressed too sharply for a common otter, which is who this seat was for." Skuli patted Kiormund on the shoulder. "It's just a hooded cloak, and I presume it fits your size."
It doesn't, thought Kiormund. What is large for a ferret may still be too small for an otter… "I don't mind it. Thank you."
"Oh look!" squeaked Egil. "The players are moving in!"
An assorted group of actors and actresses made their way into the centre of the theatre, led by a plump squirrel who clutched a piece of scribbled paper and tailed by a massive wolf with red eyes and black fur. Kiormund deduced that he was the same wolf from the rooftop, but a part of him could not stop thinking about how there may have been a second one of them nearby.
"Greetings, goodbeasts of Gystra!" The squirrel was dressed well. His body was stuck in a blue-green doublet, with a red robe draped over all of him. "I'd say 'and everybeast else' as well, but I had been assured that this city wouldn't let a beast with bad intentions in."
He took a long look at the crowd before his ears dipped, realising that his joke made too few beasts laugh. "Um, yes. Our glorious King Willem and our illustrious Lord Lamont have decided to allow this old city to house great beasts from faraway shores, and they have chartered us to provide the city with entertainment!"
"Wasn't this whole meeting Kiordan's idea?" asked Egil.
His father reached a paw behind the otter and pressed a claw in front of his lips. "Shush, I'm listening, and so is your friend!"
"Heh, sorry."
"We are to go back through space and time, over woods, under rivers and long, long ago, to tell the story of the Bellmaker!" The squirrel reached behind his back and clawed at a gilded band, winking at his fellow players who were busy moving props and establishing the setting. "But first, let us imagine the court of old squirrelkings, when the realm was in its infancy!"
With that, he tilted right and lifted one footpaw before the other, cartwheeling backwards onto a wooden throne the wolf had moved, neatly placing the ring of metal atop his own head.
What Kiormund saw next largely matched up with the descriptions he had seen in the histories. Urgan Nagru, the Foxwolf, sailed down the Western Sea to seek a new home in warmer lands, and the unsuspecting King Gael (the second of seven) decided to let them in against the better judgement of his advisor Rab, first in the line of many Streambattles.
"Do you trust the words of a foreigner more than me?" asked the actor playing the head of the otter guard. "The otters of House Streambattle have served your father, and we will always be sworn to the throne!"
Nevertheless, King Gael was adamant that the newcomers must have a home to stay in, leading to the otter's self-imposed exile.
"If you think the Foxwolf's planning something sinister at court," muttered Egil, "and you've got a guard of heavily armed otters, why remove them from the capital to sulk with you?"
"Anger does strange things to a beast's heart," replied Kiormund, remembering a phrase his grandmother taught him. "A beast with power has to learn how to harness it correctly."
"Could you two hush a bit?" interrupted Skuli. "The play's still going on!"
As Urgan Nagru's metaphorical claws wrapped around Castle Floret, the squirrelking was still none the wiser, and nobeast but he was surprised when the fox made his move with his mate Silvamord. The vixen was played by a grey-furred fox, though Kiormund had no idea if she was born with the colour, or if it was obtained by age.
Sarno looked every bit as menacing as a wolf pretending to be a fox could be, which was not much. "Now that I am the one and only King of Southsward," said the wolf, "I have to decide on what to do with those squirrels. Have you any suggestions, my beasts?"
The grey rats of the Foxwolf's horde threw a few solutions around, all of which were violent. The merciful ones involved a dagger to the throat or a swift beheading, while others involved being thrown into the sea to drown or transforming them into palace rugs.
Silvamord, however, had other ideas. "Do you recall the badger who cares for the squirrelkit? If you would like to spill his blood you would have to go through her claws."
The horde quickly made themselves silent as Nagru stroked his snout. "Yes, yes, you speak sense. And perhaps if Gael's line is butchered into oblivion the Southswarders could pick another king – one which can command the might of sword and shield, and a multitude of beasts at his disposal."
"You mean the otter," responded Silvamord.
The Foxwolf nodded. "Perhaps it is better to let the king rot for a while as we treat with this Streambattle – leverage will be needed!"
The vulpine couple had not counted on the idea that Rab Streambattle would prefer launching a surprise attack into the castle itself. In the end the otter guard successfully rescued the prince and the queen, while King Gael decided to return to captivity to buy the escapees some time.
While the two foxes in the castle continued to quarrel between themselves on the topic of losing the prince, the young squirrel was safely ensconced in a fort further north thanks to the efforts of Iris Streambattle, whose husband went missing during the battle. Blerun Downriver, Rab's second-in-command, talked with her about leaving Gael for dead and elevating Truffen to the kingship, but the otterlady refused to entertain a single word of the matter.
Back in the castle, Squirrelking Gael was moping around in the castle, lamenting his initial foolishness when he was suddenly joined by some new guests. Kiormund gasped as Mariel and Dandin appeared, falling into the cell alongside their hare comrade whose name the otter had forgotten. "I apologise," said the mousemaid with the knotted rope. "I was carried here by a massive bird."
"Huh, this isn't right," whispered Kiormund into Egil's ear.
"What? Did you really think they'll show a bird on stage?"
"No! It's just… Mariel of Redwall would never speak this formally."
"I recall you telling me about this – she's more of a wild mouse?"
Kiormund nodded before turning his attention back to the play. The scene was brief and before Kiormund knew it it was over already, switching to Joseph the Bellmaker's ship finally making its way towards what would become the port of the modern city of Floret, being greeted by Blerun and later Iris.
"I don't recall there being a few little ones around with the Bellmaker," said Skuli under his breath. "Are they important?"
"The otter would later grow up to be another of my ancestors," replied Kiormund. "While the little squirrel would marry Truffen and the kings of Tarelis would descend from the mouse's line."
"Or so they claim," chuckled Skuli, turning his attention back to the performance.
Sarno was back on his throne, spitting line after line about the incompetence of his hordebeasts for them to lose all three of their hostages thanks to the actions of two mice. Kiormund was sure that the sight of an angry wolf would be stuck in his head for quite some time, but when Urgan Nagru decided to meet the Southswarders in open battle the otter found his friend staring straight at him.
"They have a castle!" exclaimed Egil. "And they have enough food! Why sally out when you have the advantage?"
"Could just be the usual problem of hordes being fractured," explained Kiormund. "If Nagru does not seem brave enough, his underlings could consider toppling him and giving his horde to another. He has to act like a proper warlord."
"How strange," mused Egil as the chaos of the battle for Southsward ensued on stage. Or rather, a small part of the battle. Rab Streambattle took Silvamord into a watery grave, while Fatch withered away from his wounds. And finally, a terrified Urgan Nagru met his mortal end while fleeing like the coward he was.
"You know, to the Southwest of Floret, you can still see the Foxwolf's tomb for a grosso," said Skuli.
"Have you ever been there, Father?"
The older ferret looked at his son and laughed. "No, goodness no! It's a trap for travellers – I have better things to do than stare at old bones."
The play ended in applause and the entire troupe stood in a circle, right in the middle of the amphitheatre, and bowed to the audience. The ringleader, the actor who played Gael, took out a scroll hanging on his belt and read from it, facing the box that held Lamont.
"Know this, oh gracious lord! With the bridges you have built across this city, you have trodden upon the corpse of the Udso, slaying the last obstacle between the lands of Southsward and Travrik! Your power may be derived from the King back in Floret, like the Moon which shines with the Sun's blessing, but in the darkness of this age your light shines forth more than everybeast else, over kings and emperors and all their ilk!"
Jacoba wouldn't like what he said, thought Kiormund as he looked upwards. Lamont's smile was open for all to see, while Erlend's own was covered by both his paws. Kiordan was busy arguing with the rat next to him, while Lorelei's inscrutable expression was mirrored by the beast who sat behind her, a black fuzzy mass with long ears and an even longer snout. His gaze fell on Sarno again, then back up.
"What's the matter?" asked Skuli. "Are you pretending to be one of those snapping plants in the swamps, trying to catch flies with your mouth?"
"N-no," answered the otter. "It just isn't common to see two wolves in a single day, that's all!"
A/N: Another Kiormund chapter ends with a bit of filler.
We have a moment where Kio gets some more time with Lorelei, again. I'm sure you readers are just itching to be in his place and get into a one-on-one conversation with everyone's favourite PoV character. At least Kiormund is with Sigurd again - let's hope that lasts!
We then pay a visit to a play. I was kinda looking forward to writing this segment, to give some continuity between the events of the canon series and my fic, but I think I got too ambitious - I was looking if I could discover some differences between the Redwaller and Southswarder tellings of events long gone.
What could be discovered, on the other paw, is the difference between the parent-child relationships of Lorelei and Kiormund, compared to Skuli and Egil. I think the conclusion is obvious enough, though maybe not from this chapter alone.
Another Kio chapter next month! Hope you had a nice read.
