[Mkguild] Landing in a New Age (5/5)

[C. Matthias]

And the last one.  This wraps up my first new 
story.  Thanks go out to Chris Okane who looked 
over all the scenes with George, Ryx who 
double-checked my scene with Kozaithy, and Chris 
Bradford for the idea of the Verne character and 
the Fellowship we see in the first scene of this day.

And to everyone who reads and replies, thank you too! :-)

Metamor Keep: Landing in a New Age
By Charles Matthias

Day 5 - January 1, 708 CR

         The Steward of Metamor rose well before 
dawn to begin his day.  With the dutiful check of 
his ledgers, he noted that the new year had 
come.  The celebrations last night had been 
muted, and in fact, after he’d finished arranging 
the one Ducal event, he’d not even been 
involved.  Instead he’d begun planning the 
logistics for a formal ceremony in which the 
Midlander exile could swear allegiance to Thomas.
         It was now 708 CR, but for Thalberg, it 
was just another day in the service to the 
Duke.  The great alligator donned his robes, 
stirred the ashes from last night’s fire and 
added more fuel until a healthy flame roared in 
the hearth, and then set a kettle to boil for his 
morning tea.  A page would be by soon with a 
platter of fishes freshly caught and cooked as he 
had every morning to break his fast.
         Later he would go to the kitchens and 
oversee the meals being prepared for the new 
year’s feast as well as those to break Duke 
Thomas and Duchess Alberta’s fast, but their day 
didn’t begin as early as did his.  So it was with 
the life of a servant, but it was his life and he 
loved it.  Even if the thought of a brief respite 
brought him no end of yearning.
         A furtive knock on the door made him 
lower his eyes.  The page who brought him food 
was always more assertive.  Either somebody new 
on the staff who was about to be the butt of a 
practical joke, or it was somebody come to ask 
him something.  He raised his snout and called, “Enter!”
         A long green head with bulging eyes and 
a beak peered in the door. “E-e-excuse me, Thalberg sir?”
         The door continued to open and the box 
turtle hesitantly stepped inside.  Unlike a real 
turtle, while at his most human, Verne’s shell 
wasn’t large enough for him to hide in.  Still, 
he always looked as if he wished to tuck his head 
right back inside either his shell or the 
voluminous tunics he bore. Thalberg sighed in 
exasperation. “Hello, Verne.  What do you need today?”
         Verne drew his head back and moment, and 
then bulged his neck forward with purpose. “The 
sand warmers are wearing out again, and the spiny 
alchemist won’t make us more unless we pay double 
her old fee.  I-i-it’s not fair.  We need those, 
and it’s not right that she’s using that to 
extort money from us.  You’re part of the Fellowship, you understand!”
         Thalberg stared at his fellow reptilian 
Keeper and grunted. “Pascal has rather eclectic 
expenses, so if she’s raised her prices, she will 
have raised them for everyone.  I can talk to 
her, but I cannot make her do anything.  I 
recommend you ask one of the mages to ensorcel a pyrock or two.”
         “But that’s more expensive!” Verne wailed.
         “And they last a lot longer too,” 
Thalberg added. “Pool together some money from 
other Fellowship members, as much as you 
need.  And yes, I’ll contribute too.  Now go, I have quite a lot to do today.”
         Verne backed up a step, his short tail 
curling back and forth with his anxiety.  He 
lowered his head and asked, “Will we see you at 
the Fellowship gathering this month?”
         The alligator sighed heavily and through 
his teeth said, “Send me an invitation and I’ll 
consider it.  Thank you, Verne.”
         “Thank you, Thalberg sir,” Verne 
replied, not entirely convincingly as he left.
         Thalberg turned back to his kettle and 
poured himself a cup of tea.  He stirred the dark 
brew, and let the aroma tickle his nostrils.  He 
knew he shouldn’t be so hard on Verne or so 
dismissive of the Fellowship.  It was meant to 
help Keepers who’d become reptilian or avian with 
their special needs.  They just kept trying to 
make him their leader, and he didn’t have either 
the time or the desire for it. And yet now here 
he’d gone and promised to help this new alligator 
adjust to her new body and even perhaps find her 
a job.  He grunted at himself and settled behind 
his desk to begin his day’s work.
         The second knock came only minutes 
later, but this time it was his morning fish.  He 
thanked the youthful page and after he left, 
resumed reviewing his notes from last 
night.  Schedules and ledges, lists of 
inventories of foodstuffs and cloths, decorations 
and draperies, all of it came into coherent focus 
beneath his cool yellow gaze.  The fish was gone 
in two gulps, but sated his empty gullet.  The tea lasted only slightly longer.
         He was just getting up to fetch himself 
another cup, when a third knocking interrupted 
him. “Come in,” he called as he poured his second cup.
         With his back momentarily to the door, 
he didn’t see who it was, but he immediately 
recognized the voice. “Master Steward?  I’m here as you asked.”
         Thalberg turned and set his tea 
down.  In his doorway stood another alligator 
draped in a heavy woolen tunic, breeches and 
cloak all fitted to her new reptilian shape.  Her 
slitted yellow eyes were lowered only 
slightly.  Thalberg stepped around his desk and 
clasped his hands before him. “Good morning to 
you, Miriam.  Come, sit by the fire and warm 
yourself.  Would you like some tea?” So speaking, 
he lifted one of the chairs he usually kept 
opposite his desk and brought it around next to 
the hearth.  The scarlet upholstery glistened in the bright firelight.
         “Thank you, aye,” Miriam replied.  She 
walked a little clumsily, with her long tail 
dragging behind her and sometimes tugging on the 
cloak fastened at her neck.  But she yanked at 
the ends of the cloak with her green scaled hands 
and pulled it free.  Thalberg noted that the 
boots she wore looked dreadfully uncomfortable; 
he’d have to take her to a cobbler to fix that.
         Sitting down was also a challenge for 
her, as she still didn’t have much coordination 
with moving her tail around.  She eventually, 
just grabbed the end in her hands and wedged it 
into the hole in the back of the chair, and then 
shoved herself down. “How do you make this thing work?”
         “Our tail can be clumsy for us,” 
Thalberg admitted as he handed her a fresh cup of 
tea.  It steamed up across her snout, and her 
nostrils recoiled at first, but she managed after 
a moment to breath in the soothing aroma. “But 
you’ll learn how to move it right.  They’re 
completely new muscles, and it takes some time to 
master.  If you haven’t tried to the steam baths 
here at the Keep, then you must.  You’ll discover 
exactly what our tails are for.”
         “Steam baths?  That does sound lovely,” 
Miriam admitted.  She must have taken his advice 
about talking to others as much as she could, for 
already the awkwardness in her voice was fading. “Where are they?”
         Thalberg sat down opposite her, far more 
gracefully, his tail going exactly where he 
wanted it.  He cradled his tea in his scaled 
hands, black claws tapping the ceramic with a 
steady beat. “Like anything else at Metamor, just 
think about it and you’ll find your way 
there.  That said, today you’ll accompany me as I 
make my rounds and oversee my duties.  I want to see where best you’ll fit in.”
         Miriam lifted the cup to the end of her 
snout, but didn’t drink. “You’ll have work for me?”
         “I don’t know,” Thalberg admitted. “We 
shall see.” He tipped his cup across the end of 
his jaw and let the tea rush down his tongue. 
“I’ll also introduce you to a few members of the 
Fellowship.  It’s a group of Keepers who’ve 
become birds or reptiles like us.  They can offer 
you other advice on how to adjust to your 
body.  But that’s for later.  Right now, tell me 
again what sort of things you did in Lord Bradanes’s house.”
         Miriam stared down her snout at the cup 
and did her best to take a drink.  Only a little 
spilled out the sides of her jaws.  She brushed 
this off with the hem of her cloak, and then 
began to tell Thalberg all he wished to 
know.  The crackling fire warmed the two 
alligators on that chilly winter morn as they spoke of the duties of servants.

----------

         William Dupré and his men slept in a 
single room which did not have enough bedding for 
all of them.  There were but two beds, and barely 
enough space for the rest to sleep on the floor 
with their gear.  But they managed.  Becket and 
the others insisted that William take one of the 
beds, and so he did.  It had a few lumps, but 
he’d slept on far worse.  He felt no soreness in 
his back when he woke, as was often the case, but 
on this morning, the first day of the new year, 
he did feel an odd soreness in his head.
         William pushed himself into a sitting 
position.  It was still dark outside, though 
voices could be heard below, and torchlight 
flickered beneath the door jamb.  He could 
vaguely see his five men as lumps around the 
room.  Becket, laying on the floor next to him, 
lifted his head, though he said nothing.
         William grunted to himself.  His head 
hurt.  It felt like two big something spikes were 
being shoved out his temples.  He lifted one hand 
to his face, and immediately stiffened in 
alarm.  There was something poking out the sides 
of his head!  He felt at the edge, something hard 
and rippling, growing and shoving aside his hair.  Horns.  Ram’s horns.
         “The Curse has me, Becket,” he said, and 
already he could feel the changes flowing down 
through the rest of his body.  His tongue 
thickened, face stretching and nose 
flattening.  His fingers tensed and tightened, 
and he felt as if millions of ants were crawling over every mote of flesh.
         “And I,” Becket said, as he sat up, 
grunting deep in his throat.  The other soldiers 
all stirred from their sleep as the Curse worked 
its fingers into them.  One of them, Anthony, 
managed to light a lamp with his fast youthening fingers.
         William pushed the quilts off his body, 
and watched as his feet hardened into cloven 
hooves, and a copious white wool spread across 
every exposed bit of flesh.  His hands were now 
hoof-like with only two thick fingers, but they 
were still strong.  The change came so fast on 
him, that the earlier discomfort wore away within 
moments, leaving him feel disoriented.  He could 
see the large curling horns out of the corner’s 
of his eyes, and they made his head feel very heavy.
         He could see that his soldiers were in 
similar discomfort from their changes.  But not a 
one of them uttered a word of complaint as the 
curse of Metamor took away their old bodies and 
gave them new ones.  Beside him, Becket now 
sported a long porcine nose, white tusks, bristly 
fur, small eyes, and thick hoof-like 
hands.  Sitting next to him was what had become 
of Alexander, the youngest of his men, who now 
had black fur with orange markings on his hands, 
chest, and face, black claws, and a stout canine 
countenance.  He pulled a long black tail out of 
his breeches and stared at it in 
surprise.  Anthony was tangled in his now too big 
shirt, while Martin and Robert were staring at 
each other’s returned freckles.  Three beasts and 
three boys.  Just as the flash of light a week past had predicted.
         William moved his odd tongue around in 
his mouth and did his best to smile with his 
snout. “Welcome to Metamor, men.  Whether we like 
it or not, it’s our home now.”
         Becket put his oddly shaped hand on his 
chest, and nodded his heavy snout.  He still 
managed to look dignified even as a boar. “It may 
have taken our bodies, but we shall give it our 
very lives if that is what you ask of us.”
         William set his hooves on the floor and 
did his best to stand.  It was very different, as 
he had to keep his knees and hips balanced just 
right.  But after a moment of unsteady swaying, 
he managed to right himself. “I am very proud of 
each of you.  Soldiers each of us then, to the 
very end.  Get dressed as best you can men.  I 
want to get to know our new home a little better today.”
         They leapt from their makeshift beds 
before the words were even out of his muzzle.

----------

         “Dirigere et sanctificare, regere et 
gubernare dignare, Domine Deus” the nuns intoned 
as one.  They knelt before the main altar in the 
cathedral, except for Tugal who sat in her 
wheeled chair next to them, hands folded in 
prayer. “Rex caeli et terrae, hodie corda et 
corpora nostra, sensus,” her lips moved, the 
words radiating up from her soul to a God she had 
only known for a few months but one whom she desperately loved.
         “Sermones et actus nostros in lege tua 
et in...” Mother Wilfrida’s voice warbled in her 
throat as she bent forward, struck suddenly by a 
spasm.  So too did the other nuns, clutching at 
their cowls while Tugal alone remained 
untouched.  The sister nearest her seemed to 
shrink inside her habit, while the one sitting 
next to her sprouted sparse bristly fur, long 
donkey-like ears, a pronounced snout, and heavy digging claws.
         Mother Wilfrida straighted, as did the 
other sisters.  Her lips hardened into a narrow 
flat beak, as mud brown feathers began to dot her 
face. Somehow, she managed to turn her head to 
Tugal and ask, her voice distorted, “Tugal, could 
you please finish the morning prayers for us.”
         Tugal felt her heart clutch tight in her 
chest, breath caught on her lips, but she still 
managed to nod.  The sisters continued to change, 
some shrinking and others taking on the guise of 
beasts.  Tugal remembered well the pain and shock 
of when the curse claimed her.  She offered a 
quick intention that their change would be 
easier, lifted her eyes briefly to the yew 
dominating the altar, then back down to her 
slender hands.  Her tongue finally loosed and the 
words of the prayer echoed through the Cathedral. 
“Ut hic et in aeternum, te auxiliante, salvi et 
liberi esse mereamur, Salvator mundi: Qui vivis 
et regnas in saecula saeculorum. Amen.”
         A smile graced her lips as the final 
words crossed them.  They were all truly 
Metamorians now.  What better way could they have 
started the new year than this?

----------

         Thomas stood at the balcony of his 
chambers.  A light dusting of snow graced the 
stonework, but this bothered his hooves none.  A 
warm woolen coat covered his tunic, while his 
thickest leggings kept the rest of him 
comfortable.  His long tail swished back and 
forth in the chill morning air.  Twilight hung 
over the valley like a hand waiting to be 
lifted.  Already the streets were marred by 
merchants, travellers, shopkeepers, soldiers, and 
other Keepers getting an early start to the new day.
         The new year. The last had been long 
enough, but it had ended with such good news that 
he could only imagine what good fortune might 
befall them this year.  He dared not think of any 
ill that could come to pass lest it 
happen.  Metamor had been struck hard in the last 
two years.  Perhaps this year they would find even more reasons to hope.
         His ears turned at the hard step of 
hooves upon the stone.  Alberta slid next to him, 
dressed in a light riding jacket and 
breeches.  Her long ears folded against her spiky 
mane, and she leaned into Thomas as he looked at 
the city.  He slipped an arm around her back and 
held her close. “What dost thee think of, my Thomas?”
         Far to the southeast he saw the first 
sliver of sun rising behind the 
mountains.  Shadows stretched long and far in the 
city below. “It’s the first day of the new year, 
but it feels like more somehow.”
         “Like a new age?” Alberta suggested 
softly as she leaned into his shoulder.
         He whickered in delight.  How had he 
ever managed without her?  She’d touched exactly 
what he was thinking with a single word. “Aye, 
that is it. A new age.  There were times I never 
thought we’d make it here, but here we are.” His 
eyes traced the path of an eagle-shaped Keeper as 
they glided from a tower top down to the 
city.  The first rays of the sun glinted off his 
back, but sill he watched the Keeper land in the 
city square. “And the best part is that I get to share it with you.”
         “And I with thee,” Alberta replied, a bray hidden beneath her words.
         Husband and wife held each other close, 
laughing and nuzzling long snouts as the dawn 
rose welcome and warm in that new age.

----------

End of "Landing in a New Age"

May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias


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