I know I promised I would begin posting Pars V at
the beginning of May. Sadly I did not make as
much progress as I would like during the last two
months. That however has been fixed and now I'm
back on track. So let us continue! Note, this
will not be as long as the last part was.
Recall that scenes set in 724 are 16 years after the current timeline.
---------
Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats
by Charles Matthias and Ryx
Pars V: Ascensum
(a)
Wednesday, June 23, 724 CR
Though his adoptive father had bade him not to
seek out Nocturna in his dreams, Charlie did not
simply give over to the witless sleep enjoyed by
almost everyone else. There were many who could
walk the path of Dreams, some with more facility
than others, and many of those Nocturna employed
to safeguard the dreams of those who knew nothing
of the dangers that lurked within their own sleep.
Most were safe from them in any regard, unless
the Dream was a powerful one. Such would call to
those who Walked, either for Nocturna or with
other intentions that drew Hew servants to them
like crows to carrion. But even untouched by the
shadowy realm of Dreams all were open to any who
sought them out directly. And, thus, Charlie
sought and Walked unremarked through many dreams.
To him they had the passage of time, though to
the outside world they were fleeting. Looking
into a dream from outset to dénouement would take
but second even if, within the dream, perception spanned hours or even days.
True to his Duke and his charge, Charlie stepped
into the dreams of the visiting princess once she
had finally sought her slumber. He followed her
through some dream of the banalities of her day
upon the Steppes in the shadow of the Vysehrad
mountains, though all who populated that dream
were animorphed in some way or another. Into this
Charlie saw her thoughts turn toward Bryn,
standing atop the towers of the mountain fortress
keep her family would winter in. He could not but
chuckle at the strange juxtaposition of Bryn
standing there with noble bearing next to one of
her old brother's finest warhorses. The
comparisons were frank, but humorous. Charlie
slipped from the dream, finding no ulterior
motivations therein. Only the confusion, fears, and curiosity of a young girl.
Into the dreams of her brother and guards Charlie
wandered, finding most dreaming images the same;
tame or ribald and every concept between. He
discovered that there were three spies among the
King's guard but their duty was to observe and
report, nothing more. Charlie did discover that
one of the King's stewards' apprentices was among
his retinue for altogether darker reasons and
lingered there longer. A simple whisper of loss
had the young man scrambling in haste through a
trunk of fancy garments for the tiny leather pouch of poisons.
Charlie captured those thoughts, and had the
pouch abruptly release its contents into the
man's face. That so frightened the poor man that
he lurched awake, banishing the dream. He would
have some difficulty finding sleep for the rest of his night.
Briefly he sent his thoughts toward the mithril
mines of the flanks of the nearby mountains, to
all who slept there, instilling a sense of
something missing, but nothing kindled at his
nebulous caress of so many dreams. The thief was
either drunk from the festivities or not yet asleep.
He kept his dreaming mind active, but at every
turn from Dream to Dream he had to force himself
to turn away from the addictive draw of his
sire's dreams. Often he found himself standing
atop a shadowy hillock surrounded by standing stones and turned purposely away.
----------
A touch upon his shoulder roused him to lamp
light brightness and he squinted his eyes against
it. Your father asked that you be awakened with
the mistress, Charlie, Hogue said quietly,
almost apologetically, before turning away and
taking with him the unpleasant brightness of the
witchlit lamp. I have laid out a robe and hose
for the dawn. Which of your raiment do you wish for the day?
Charlie grunted and sucked his tongue, roughing
it against the roof of his muzzle a few times
before licking his whiskers. Slowly he levered
himself up. What is the hour? He muttered,
ending with a huge yawn. Beyond the open window
all was dark save for a single torch on a distant wall.
The sky is blueing, sire. Perhaps an hour before
full dawn above. The sunlight would take another
hour beyond the lightening of the sky above to
full day before it touched any of the buildings
of Euper. Andelwyne will be laying out the first meal in a quarter hour.
Thank you, Hogue. I can dress myself. Charlie
turned to drop his paws off of his overlarge
feather bed and cast aside the covers. Please
lay out the dark blue for me. I am not in tourney
today so can more dress to my station.
As you wish. Hogue stopped at the door to set
the lantern upon the entryway table near the
frame. He cast Charlie an anxious glance. Are you well, sire? Yesterday...
Charlie chuffed and waved a hand toward him
lazily. I acted nine times a fool. Worry not,
Hogue, I have taken no injury nor overmuch wine.
Very well. I was merely concerned. Wagging
tongues and all. He dreaded to think of the
rumors that his body-servant must have heard. In
a more timorous voice, Hogue asked, Did you
indeed truly cause injury to the Baron?
I did, yes. I have that and more to atone for
today. Hogue had almost drawn the doors closed
before Charlies looked up from a long
contemplation of his own long-toed rodentine feet. Ahh, Hogue?
The youth forever so only two years past when
the Curse stopped him from aging any further
paused and leaned back through the opening. Sire?
Could you send word to Maysin, if she is in the
household, that I wish to walk this morn? And
that she attend me so garbed? I believe that she
has an entourage wardrobe befitting my blue?
She is and does, sire, and I shall convey your
message with her wardrobe. His servant's eyes
narrowed. You are not riding in your family's processional today, sire?
Charlie grimaced and shook his head. Not this
morn, no. See to my message. With a bob of his
head Hogue withdrew and the door quietly thumped closed behind him.
----------
Charlie ambled into the dining hall while the
house staff was laying out the place settings and
stood to one side to wait rather than get in
their way by taking his seat. Misanthe, unlike
most of the upper class folks that Charlie knew,
would be wroth with anyone who put themselves in
front of the house staff for their own
convenience when things were being prepared.
Suria, still rubbing her eyes, yawned with a gape
of her dangerous wolf muzzle. Her white teeth
gleamed in the bright light of the hall. The
outer doors had been opened to the morning
breeze, filling the hall with the scent of
Metamor often not the most pleasant of things,
considering the multitudes of people and species
inhabiting it but far less offensive to the
nose than the harbor breeze of Sutthaivasse. The
stench of tanneries and fisheries there would
often leave those on the high ridge above the
city closing their seaside shutters.
Morning, She growled upon completion of her
yawn, tightening the sash of her robe needlessly.
How do you prefer to be boiled, brother mine? Slow, or a quick scalding?
Whiskers twitching in a brief moue Charlie could
only shake his head, As swiftly as might be
possible. He admitted with a sigh. Mother was
still so wroth? He almost reached up a hand to
rub his cheek where she had slapped it the prior afternoon.
The young she-wolf laughed in a half-yip and
bobbed her head. Oh, dear, yes! She simmered the
day through, waiting for you to return home from
wherever it was you fled after laying your sires breast open.
I sought him out. Charlie admitted, stepping
out of the way as a trio of kitchen staff emerged
from a side hall to begin laying out the morning
meal. Owing to the possibility of considerable
hangovers the meal was a light one; breads and
pastries with small meats and fingerling
vegetables steamed to Charlies preference. We talked.
Suria waited for the cooks to lay out the table
before crossing to her chair. Charlie followed
and helped her scoot it back to the table before
going to his own. Was he terribly injured?
Not such that could not be mended albeit with
stitches, unfortunately. He shall scar, I fear.
He could still see the rivulet of granite running
the length of his sire's chest. He would not
compound his mistakes of yesterday with breaking such a terrible confidence.
And did you apologize for your appalling lack of
chivalry? A new voice cut in, smooth yet sharp,
which brought their attention back to the door
from the residences. Misanthe did not so much
enter a place as sweep into it with an unbound
urgency to be and do. Charlie rose with a bob of
his head and moved to help her with her own chair
as he had with his sisters. The staff
efficiently began laying out their fares as each preferred.
For that, yes, mother. Charlie affirmed
modestly as he returned to his chair. And the
Baron forgave me, ascribing the injury to a weakness of his own shield.
Misanthe scoffed with a sharp look, Would that
it were not being battered with all the violence
of a petulant child at tantrum he may not have to
make such a claim. She shook her head and took
up her chalice, holding it steady as one of the
staff poured at her side. The scent was nothing
more than that of milk. And then storming off in
pique, leaving all gaping behind you while your
mount stood at the end of the list forgotten.
She sipped, then leaned forward, lightly placing
the chalice back down. Charlie poured his own
milk, as was his habit. He would much rather hear
her sharp words than feel the sharp strike of her
paw. Were she but a horse such would not be
remarked upon, but she is a member of this
household and deserves far better treatment, Charlie.
Again the young rat could only nod his head in
assent, I have quite humiliated her before the
entire tourney crowd, yes, and mean to make some
manner of apology this morning. I shall, in all
due grace one who is being punished, walk to
the tourney field today, denied use of my mount by my wrathful parents.
Misanthes russet brows rose and her ears pinned
forward, You would abandon her again for a
second day? She growled warningly. Charlie held up a placating hand quickly.
No, mother. No, I shall not leave her here
awaiting my wish. I have asked that she be garbed
to be my retinue today, not mount. She will be
given leave to enjoy the day as her own, as well,
once I reach the festival grounds.
That is a start. Misanthe conceded. She wagged
a finger at him admonishingly, Now, be sure not
to tender her any coin beyond her norm. That
would be unseemly. It would give the impression
of purchasing forgiveness rather than earning it.
Charlie nodded and nibbled a stalk of steamed
asparagus freshly gathered from the Keep gardens.
No, I full well intend to earn recompense for my
poor behavior, on all accounts. I have yet to
fully understand my sires motivations, which is
the root of the anger I directed to him
yesterday, and as yet have not fully come to
grips with his choices. But we are speaking, and
he has much to tell of that night.
Misanthe slowly chewed a bit of fowl that had
been roasted the previous day and then left in a
cold box to chill that it be better morning fare.
Ahh. Indeed. That night changed many things, but
also set in motion events that would affect your
life, young man. Full well to find some
understanding of it and set aside this childish
petulance you hold toward him. Your dam is nearly
as furious as I, you should know. I believe, when
last I saw her, she was seeking out a willow branch.
Charlie winced and his tail tucked down against
the back of his chair at the thought of that. He
had only experienced a switch once, after
unwisely making too rough with a horse, by the
stable master under direction of his father. He
had never again mistreated a steed, or any other
animal, and avoided the mere thought of any
transgression that might mete out a re-application of that stinging punishment.
I will
present myself at the Matthias pavilion
before going to the Hassan seat, then. He
sighed, not looking forward to the Lady Kimberlys anger.
See that you do.
Misanthe had no more to say after that and
Charlie felt a measure of relief. Suria glared at
him for a moment as if irritated that her brother
hadn't been more thoroughly chastised, but her
irritation with her brother could never last.
Charlie glanced at the empty seat at the head of
the table for a moment and cautiously changed the subject. Where is Father?
Misanthe dabbed the end of her snout with a
kerchief to clean it and then replied, Your
father is seeing to some private arrangements
with the Duke and will rejoin us in time for the
procession. A procession Charlie had already
announced he would not participate in. Now, do
eat something this morning, Charlie. Something
more than that asparagus you've nibbled to nothing.
Breakfast, while prepared well as always, was
tasteless to Charlie but he put himself to the
task of finishing it lest he receive another
rebuke. Suria and Misanthe exchanged idle talk
about the wares that they had seen, gossip
overheard from their visitors and local nobility,
and the unexpected victory of the rat Goldmark
over the Long Scout lutin Keleficks as the last
fight of the previous day. Even as he forced
himself to finish a slice of toast with raspberry
jam, his ears lifted to listen with sudden interest.
Apparently, when Keleficks made his first sortie
against the Rat who entered battle in the form
of a rattaur as large as a stout pony
Goldmarks block was so powerful that it sent the
Lutins cudgel rebounding with enough force to
knock him out entirely when it struck him in the
brow. Charlie found himself laughing to the point
of breathlessness as Suria described it. No few
of the house staff had also been among the
audience and offered remarks of their own, as was
the wont for free speaking in the Sutt house,
that only compounded the hilarity of the all-too-brief engagement.
In due course Misanthe finished her meal, her
pace matched almost perfectly by her children.
One of the notes of diplomacy that Malger had
instilled in them; never finish before the Host
of a given meal, but do not tarry such that they
are waiting for you to finish so that they might
progress to the next course. Charlie bowed out as
gracefully as he could under the cool regard of
his mother and humorous teasing of his sister so
that he could dress for the day.
----------
Returning to his chamber he found Hogue and the
young rat Peter Charlies sibling by blood but
not surname chatting in the residence hall just
outside the door to his chambers. Peter was
holding the rich blue raiment that Charlie had
chosen for the day draped over both arms while he
and Hogue regaled each other with the
entertainments they hoped to enjoy once they were
released from their morning duties. Not far away
a pale Lutin, standing slightly taller than Peter
but shorter than Hogue, smiled as he quietly
listened. He carried two weighty tomes, freshly
fashioned of buttercream hued leather and likely
as yet to be scribed with the doings of the Sutt
household though in which Charlies recent
escapades would find themselves penned, in his wiry arms.
Hogue, Atfek, Peter. Charlie spoke warmly as
he approached, managing to pronounce the Lutins
name in a passable approximation of his native
language. Aside from being the House scribe the
Lutin was also their translator when diplomatic
needs took them north of the Dikes to High Chief
Keletikts kingdom. Though aging, the elder
Shaman-cum-High Chief still held the Lutin
nations firmly in check. He had successfully
implemented a regimen of teaching among many of
the older tribes so that the youth were learning
their letters and numbers along with their
land-lore and hunting. Raiding continued, but
only from outlying unaffiliated tribes and at
such a reduced rate that a single raid was enough
to earn comment even to the Dukes ears rather
than an accumulated report given by Patrol-master Sir Wolfram.
Master Charlie. the Lutin bowed with a smile.
Holding the two weighty tomes up slightly by way
of excuse he made his way past them down the hall
toward the main rooms and, ostensibly, the library.
With a wave of his hand Charlie bid the youth and
young rat precede him into his chambers.
Charlie! Peter gasped ebulliently, full of the
infectious energy of the truly young, even as he
carefully laid out Charlies garments, Someone
told me that the mages are going to put on a
special show after the final tilt, today.
Charlie nodded and drew off his robe. Hogue
quietly took it from his paw with an eager glance
of bright eyes as he smiled at his lords younger
brother, his own enthusiasm for the performance
of magecraft tempered only by his duty to his
noble charge. Yes, Peter, I would expect that
something of that sort would occur, as it does
each year. This year moreso as we are
entertaining outlander Royals as well. Hogue
helped him out of his shirt and breeches, leaving
him unabashedly naked before the two. Such was
not in the least unusual; Charlie had been
attended by his two body servants since he was
younger than Peters age. They had seen him in
every state of undress imaginable, healthy and
ill, bruised from training or rather dizzy from
too many cups after a long night entertaining
guests. Peter, being his brother, paid no heed
either way. There was scarce little privacy in
the Matthias house with so many other brothers
sharing a single room so seeing his brother unclothed was nothing unusual.
And, in the privacy of his own chambers, Charlie
felt no overwhelming stir of modesty. After so
many years he had lost that shyness.
Peter deftly plucked the buttons loose along the
front of Charlies doublet, inspecting the
threads to ensure that all were sewn securely.
Yes, but I was not able to attend last year. He
pouted, glancing up briefly, Nor the year before that.
Standing with his arms slightly raised and his
tail curved safely to one side Charlie stood
still to let Hogue quickly run a brush across his
short, smooth pelt to dislodge any loose fur or
snarls left by sleep. You were ill last year,
Peter. And too young by far the year before, and
living in the Glen besides. Seeing his younger
siblings discomfiture at having missed out on
the previous festivities Charlie slipped the
topic onto another tangential track smoothly.
What mages will be performing, did they say? At
a light tap on his shoulder Charlie turned and
settled into the chair that Hogue drew back from his desk.
The grandmasters wife and two other skunks, I
was told. They will be working some grand display for the Duke and his guests!
Kayla? Charlie arched a brow and twitched a
scalloped ear back toward his brother though he
faced the mirror, and thus saw Peter by his
reflection. That is Grandmaster Rickkters wife,
a skunk. Murikeer and Kozaithy would be the other
two skunks. Charlie held still while Hogue
sorted what passed for the rats hair to get it
properly coifed, though there was scarcely enough
to bother with such diligence. Like pretty much
every other rat of the Matthias lineage his head
was swathed in the same short fur as the rest of
him, if ever so slightly longer from his brow
following a line between his ears and downward
along his spine to fade into the general lie of
his pelt slightly north of his tail. Likely
adept Jessica will attend, then, if the skunks
are. It seems that their efforts transcend the
political maneuvering of the damn guilds. A
decade past the mage guilds had come to a falling
out and established three separate guilds
focusing on different aspects of magecraft, yet
each claimed to be the master of all schools. The
internecine politicking drove the Dukes advisor
on magical affairs, Murikeer, to distraction on a
monthly basis. Luckily the more powerful mages;
Grandmaster Rickkter, his wife Kayla, the Adept
Jessica and the Khunnas skunks had eschewed any
allegiance to the guilds and, thereby, kept them
in check with non-insubstantial threats of dire
consequences if their bickering got out of hand.
Hogue, for once, said nothing throughout the
conversation, allowing brother to speak to
brother while he carefully selected a few bits of
jewelry from the box in which Charlie kept such
things. The metals of most jewelry tended to
stain the rat's fur so he seldom wore any at all,
though he kept plenty on hand for ceremonial
occasions. For his ears he chose small studs of
silver and azure, three for the lower rim of each
ear, facet cut to catch the light whenever his
ears moved, a fourth stud set below the others
was graced by a slightly larger polished oval
emerald. About his neck he draped a mantle of
braided silver and pale blue sapphires that would
complement his wardrobe and a torc of sculpted
silver that fit snugly, each end adorned with
deep green emeralds resting at the points of his
clavicles. His fingers were adorned with similar
combinations of silver and blue, with the middle
finger of each hand sporting a ring of silver and emerald.
After adorning his charge with a thiefs dream of
silver and stones Hogue and Peter both helped him
into the form fitting, impeccably tailored blue
hose and equally snug doublet that was buttoned
up the front and tightened via laces up the back
to show off his physique. He found it
unpleasantly uncomfortable for any length of time
but did have to admit that, in combination with
the hose of fine cotton, made him cut quite a
striking figure. Lace adorned wrist and collar,
creating a nest of white in which the silver and
gems of the jewelry nested against his fur as if
displayed within a jewelry box lined with brown
felt. Charlie slipped on matched cuffs of silver
and sapphires at each wrist and, glancing into
the overburdened jewelry box, deftly lifted a
last item. This he secreted up the sleeve of his doublet.
Due to the snugness of the doublet Charlies arms
had their movement constrained considerably, lest
he tear out the stitching at the shoulders and
underarms, so Hogue had to help him into the deep
blue velvet surcoat with its plush sleeves and
high, lace collar. He would remove it before the
day was too far along, for it would be unbearably
warm by mid-day, but for the introductions of the
morning it would show fine comportment and refinement.
Charlie had to snort at himself in the mirror; he
looked every inch as much the fop as his father,
and rather intensely disliked it. The tailors
left him little room to move as his father did
and he would have to remedy that the next time
they came. Malger could dance easily in his full
attire, and fight easily with one sword or both
without tearing the seams. For a few hours, at
least, he would suffer the sacrifice of extravagant wealth in good grace.
Doffing a rogues pointed hat that rested neatly
between his ears he flicked his fingers down the
upturned sides to the point above his muzzle with
a deft flick. Hogue chuckled and plucked a small
cluster of pheasant feathers from a small cubby
to one side of the wardrobe to slip into the
feather notch along the right side of the cap. A
perfect ensemble, Milord. The youth said with a
bright smile, carefully adjusting the long
feathers of the cap and lace about Charlies
throat to best affect. You cut quite a dashing figure.
Of a rat in motley. Charlie quipped, shifting
his arms to test the limits of his motions. Peter
pranced over from the far side of the room with a
belt of gleaming white leather tooled in the form
of running stags. From it dangled a sheathed
poniard similarly tooled. Charlie held his arms
up slightly as his brother looped the belt around
from behind and cinched it snugly about his waist.
Charlie, we are all beasts in motley at
Metamor. Peter admonished in a moment of clarity mature beyond his years.
Not all. Hogue admonished with a brief chuckle,
tapping Peter between his pale pink rodent ears
with a single fingertip, Though he is right. You
are no mere jester, Charlie, dressed in
extravagant motley. Youd turn the eyes of even a
human who still thinks us demons out there as you are now.
For my silver if naught else. Charlie tugged at
the lace of his sleeves and regarded himself in
the mirror one last time. But, that as it may,
it is the last day of the summer festival, a bad
day for maudlin thoughts. Snugging his belt
comfortably about his hips Charlie raised his
arms to clap both of his helpers upon their
shoulders, Hogue, the day is yours as you wish.
If you see Jackson remind him that he is to
prepare my chamber for my return this evening.
Peter, see if the Lady has any tasks for you to
complete. I will see myself to the gates.
I delivered wardrobe and message as you asked.
Hogue reminded him as the three of them made for
the door, shooing Peter out first.
While Peter scampered off to see if Misanthe had
any more requirements of him Charlie waited for
Hogue to close the door of his rooms. Other
servants would be along, likely within moments of
their departure, to return the chambers to their
pristine state awaiting his arrival before they,
too, retired to the festival. Thank you, Hogue.
Reaching out, Charlie clasped his hand and shook
it as they turned toward the main hall. Good
man. Ill see you on the morrow, then? Charlie
had been trained by some of the best cutpurses
Malger could convince to tutor him, as well as
Malger and Misanthe who had both, for differing
reasons, learned the sleight of hand tricks of
thievery in the years of their youth. While he
was pumping Hogues hand his other was deftly
pilfering into the small coinpurse dangling from
Hogues belt to add a few more coins to the youths collection.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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