[Mkguild] Divine Travails of Rats - Pars V. Ascensum (b)

[C. Matthias]

Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats
by Charles Matthias and Ryx

Pars V: Ascensum

(b)


Wednesday, June 23, 724 CR

The sun had not yet shown itself over the 
mountain peaks to the east when Charlie emerged 
from the Livery gate of the Duke’s wing. In the 
distance the hulking form of a giant was raking 
out the loose boxes that housed those mounts 
belonging to the Knights of the Red Stallion and 
the Knights of the Holy Yew. The giant’s huge 
rake cleaned each stall out in only a few passes 
and was shoveled into a wagon with an equally large tool.

“Milord?” A deep though feminine voice came to 
his ears before he had gone a half dozen strides 
and he turned to find Maysin approaching from a 
side gate from which she had emerged. Though she 
may have set out from the Sutt garrison there was 
no telling how far she had walked to emerge from 
the Keep within moments of his own exit. When 
Charlie turned she gave a single-handed sweep of 
her rich blue dress with a look of ‘what’s with this getup’ curiosity.

“Maysin, ah!” Charlie beamed with a smile, “You 
look very nice.” The solid blue was very striking 
atop her black-and-white striped hide.

“Yes, milord Charlie, but why such a formal 
costume?” She asked deferentially, her hooves 
chuffing quietly on the neatly trimmed grass of the livery courtyard.

With a moue Charlie’s ears backed, briefly. 
“Because of my – ahh – behavior yesterday I am 
not going to be on the list today, though my 
sire’s use of magic disqualified him and I did 
advance. So I will not need you as a mount 
today.” A shadow emerging from the same door 
Myasin had made Charlie’s gaze shift briefly, but 
only long enough to see Bryn’s regally garbed 
form approaching with Argamont’s taller frame 
beside him, dressed with finery the equal of Maysin’s.

“Ahh, Charlie!” Bryn hailed with a wave, 
increasing his pace for a few strides. Argamon’s 
ears twitched forward and Charlie saw his gaze 
sweep Maysin up and down for a moment, the tall 
stallion servitor smiling admiringly. “I see we 
are of like mind.” The young duke-in-waiting 
taking Maysin in with a smile and short bow.

“Indeed, Bryn.” Charlie chuckled, “Maysin, as I 
will not be contesting on the List I will, 
perforce, be attending my father and the Duke in 
the royal box. I would have you attend me, please, if I may ask that of you.”

“Not Hogue?” Maysin backed one ear timorously. 
She had served Charlie many times in the company 
of Metamor’s royals and was accepted by the 
entirety of the family with pleasure.

“I have released him for the day to attend the 
festivities on his own whim.” Charlie tipped his 
head slightly and looked up at the monochromatic 
striped mare’s concerned expression, “And I would 
do the same, if you desire to enjoy the day for yourself.”

She shook her head slowly, “No, I would be 
honored to be of service.” After a moment the 
corners of her expressive equine lips twitched up 
in a brief smile, “And the food will be much 
better than what most of the vendors have.”

Charlie bobbed his head with a smile, “True, 
true!” He agreed, then straightened his back and 
squared his shoulders, turning to face her more 
directly with a serious mien upon his muzzle. 
“But first I would do something, with Bryn and 
Argamont to witness.” Clearing his throat Charlie 
slipped nimble fingers into the sleeve of his doublet. “Maysin, I am sorry.”

Her head titled and her eyes widened, as if 
expecting his statement to be the opening line of 
a dismissal or other unpleasant news. “Sorry, 
milord?” She quavered, hands dropping to her side 
in a pose of formal attentiveness.

“Yes, Maysin, I am sorry. For my behavior 
yesterday, in disrespecting and dishonoring you, 
who have of your own will and desire have 
comported yourself to be my steed.” Charlie 
carried on diligently. Bryn’s ears came up and he 
shifted, quite subtly, to an aristocratic pose of 
attention to an important moment. “I acted in ill 
grace toward my sire on the field of arms, and I 
left you – who leave yourself vulnerable and 
exposed without garb in a manner many would find 
ill suited to their pride and intelligence – 
standing tacked and barded in the summer sun as 
any other might abandon a mere horse.” With a 
shake of his head Charlie stepped closer to her, 
until they were barely a handspan apart and he 
had to raise his head markedly to keep eye 
contact. “I am in your debt. I am always in your 
debt, for the service you offered, and offer, to 
myself and my House.” Raising his hand, and 
stretching the seams of his surcoat to their 
limit, he reached up to lightly capture one of 
her tall, striped ears. Delicately he removed one 
of the decorative jeweled studs, which was mere 
costume jewelry worth a few silvers but was still 
fetching against her flesh and pelt. Palming it 
he slipped a larger, heavier, and far more ornate 
stud into the empty piercing before stepping 
back. The stone was a deep green, oval cut 
emerald enwrapped in a web of gold as fine as a 
spider’s web. Alone it cost more than her entire 
wardrobe and a goodly portion of her wages. “If, 
at any time, for any reason you require aid of 
me, day or night, in any way present that stone 
to any of our House and I will come to your aid and service without question.”

Maysin’s hand went to her ear the moment he 
turned loose of it. Thought she had only caught a 
momentary glimpse of the stone she could feel its 
weight in her ear and with the pads of her thick 
fingers. “Charlie, this is far too much!” She 
gasped in surprise. “You did not wrong me, at all, yesterday! That is my serv-“

Charlie held up a finger and lightly touched her 
lips, “Maysin, it is not the value of that token, 
it is the token itself. It is the mark of a 
promise made.” He paused and smiled, then 
chuckled softly, “I could have offered as much 
with a bit of copper or pin, and it would carry 
the same value. That more suits you, I think.”

“I agree.” Bryn coughed modestly to one side, 
“And, in so saying, House Hassan will know of 
that token and bear its value accordingly, 
Maysin. I bear witness to the promise made.” 
Stepping around the stunned zebra Bryn stood 
beside Charlie to face her and rested a heavy 
hand upon the young rat’s shoulder, “And yes, 
lass, this churl did you a disservice yesterday. 
What you, Argamont, and every one of those who 
have come into the services of our Houses in the 
manner you do is beyond any service ever expected 
of a houses’ servitors in history. Though we 
don’t say it often enough, you honor us with that 
service.” He nodded toward Argamont who had moved 
forward to stand at Maysin’s side. “Leaving you 
caparisoned, for all intents and purposes naked, 
upon the tourney field like a mere horse was poor observation of that honor.”

Maysin’s ears backed and her muzzle dropped in 
profound consternation, only to come back up 
suddenly when Argamont slipped a strong arm 
around her waist. She looked to Bryn’s sometime 
steed and back to the two nobles and attempted a 
smile. “Thank you, milord.” She managed to 
whisper after a few moments, her ears still backed.

“No, Maysin.” Charlie shook his head and reached 
out to chuck her lightly under the chin with a 
curled finger. “Thank you. I hardly say it often 
enough.” His gaze twitched slightly to one side, 
“And you, Argamont, though you are not in my service.”

“That is understood, your grace.” Argamont 
intoned with deep bow, his arm still around the 
stunned zebra’s waist. “By both of us, though she 
is sorely shocked by your formal acceptance of a 
debt. Most afford those who serve them no debts 
of honor. You are a fine lord, and will be a fine Duke one day.”

“Not before me!” Bryn cut the formality with a 
laugh, clapping Charlie’s shoulder with a 
thick-fingered hand. “Now, let’s quit gawping 
here and get to my father’s box before the Dawn Wine is gone!”

Charlie lifted his arm as high as it would go and 
patted Bryn on the back. “Save me some, Bryn; I 
have one more errand to run ere I reach the High Box.”

Maysin looked awkwardly at both Argamont, who did 
not seem interested in letting go of her waist, 
and Charlie, whose expensive gift weighed on her 
mind more than her ear. Argamont acknowledged the 
noble rat's announcement with a mere flick of his 
ear, his eyes still on the zebra mare. Bryn 
regarded his friend with raised ears and wide 
eyes, “Oh? Another soul to whom you must make amends?”

He nodded with a sigh. “Yes. My mother, the Baroness.”

“Oh ho!” Bryn replied with a snort, crossing his 
arms and favoring the rat with a haughty stare 
down the length of his nose. “And what have you 
to say to your brother-in-arms whom you abandoned 
to the matrimonial machinations of his own mother?”

Argamont whinnied in amusement while Charlie 
stared incredulous at the ducal heir. “I fear I 
do not understand your meaning. I cannot believe 
that your family would have agreed to a betrothal 
so soon, and certainly not the foreign king!”

“Nay, they have not agreed to a betrothal, but 
without your companionship to accompany me, I had 
no choice but to remain in company with my family 
and with the foreigners.” Bryn's dark ears 
lowered and he exuded an air of affected offense 
and shame. “I had no choice but to spend time with her!”

“He even danced with her,” Argamont put in with a 
delighted snort. Maysin frowned at him and 
finally managed to slip herself out from the 
stallion's grasp. The strawberry roan favored the 
zebra with a brief glance of genuine affection, 
before the ribald glint returned to his dark 
eyes. “Quite a lovely couple our young lord and lady made.”

Charlie blinked and held back the laugh he felt. 
“You danced with the princess?”

Bryn nodded, his affected air of offended dignity 
comical in its exuberance. “We entertained our 
guests privately after last night's festivities. 
Music was playing and all of us were told to 
dance. My mother ensured that the princess and I 
would be paired together as often as possible.”

His whiskers twitched with mischief. “Did you 
trod one of your hooves on delicate royal toes?”

“Do not be foolish!” His ears lifted for a moment 
as if only now considering the tactic for the 
first time. “Mother would skewer me!”

Charlie finally laughed and shook his head. “Do 
not fear this princess, Bryn. She's just as 
nervous about you as you are of her.”

“Probably more nervous about how much a horse our 
young lord is!” Argamont offered with a nickering 
laugh. Maysin jabbed him in the side, a 
disapproving scowl stretching her supple lips.

Bryn's ears backed in genuine embarrassment and 
his eyes narrowed toward the man who served as 
his mount. Charlie caught the glance and waved 
his hands in the air as high as he could reach 
and laughed one more time. “Enough! Enough! I 
offer you, Thomas Bryn Hassan, my humblest 
apologies for abandoning you to your mother's 
matrimonial mischief. I promise you that I shall 
keep you company to ameliorate any such attempts 
at amorous arrangements by your as... assertive mother.”

Bryn flicked up his long ears and then flipped 
them back down. “Well! Good!” He snorted and then 
held back his own laugh no more. A hearty bray 
interjected his mirth and he gripped Charlie by 
the shoulder and gave him a brief shake. “Now 
let's go. It's a long walk and the roads are 
going to be filled before the hour is out.”

Charlie felt a measure of relief and warmth in 
his heart. He had shamed himself on the tourney 
field and yet his friends still stood with him. 
Together the four of them made their way from the 
Keep, through the gates, and through Keeptowne 
shadowed by the quartet of Watch members. Though 
it was still early in the morning, it was 
festival time and so the streets were thrumming 
with vendors from all over the valley and Keepers 
eager for the final day. Like Charlie, Bryn had 
eaten already and so they did not linger at any 
of the vendors though they did glance at many, 
inspiring hope in the heart of many at the sight 
of their wealth only to be disappointed when they 
continued on their way without reaching for their money pouches.

When they reached the festival grounds the 
relaxed mood Charlie felt in the company of his 
friends evaporated. The easy laughter he shared 
with Bryn was replaced by a sullen reserve. He 
fidgeted as they walked toward the pavilions and 
the High Box, hesitating to break away. Bryn, as 
always, noted his discomfiture and finally, after 
they had walked the long way around the Sutt 
pavilion, grabbed him on the shoulder and 
gestured with his other arm at another pavilion 
flying a pinion bearing a rat. “You have something to do, don't you, Charlie?”

He took a deep breath, his whiskers and tail 
drooping. “Yes, I do. Thank you, Bryn. I will join you when I can.”

Bryn smiled and offered him a chuckle. “Take what 
time you need. I doubt even my mother can get me married before midday.”

Maysin followed him as he made his way through 
the pavilions towards the heraldry of his birth 
family. The Sutt and Hassan pavilions stood near 
the rear of the High Box and were the largest by 
far, but the Matthias pavilion, set off in a ring 
of pavilions for minor nobility, was nearly their 
equal. It's size was not a reflection of their 
prominence but only their fecundity. Even their 
youngest children were now old enough to come to 
Metamor for the festival, and so with over twenty 
Matthias of varying ages in attendance along with 
nearly as many servants and guards there to 
protect the children they needed a large space in which to congregate.

Two soldiers in the green livery of the Matthias 
clan stood outside the pavilion and nodded to 
Charlie and Maysin as they approached. The same 
rat-head crest that he had viciously assaulted on 
his sire's shield adorned their chest. He 
recognized both the dog and the human from his 
visits to the Narrows, but their names were a 
mystery to him. Charlie nodded to them and folded 
his hands at his waist. “Is the Baroness here? I 
would like to pay her an audience.”

The dog nodded again. “Milady is here and expecting you, Milord.”

Charlie twitched his whiskers, remembering what 
his mother had said over breakfast. “Thank you.” 
He turned to Maysin and offered the zebra a 
smile. “I think I should see her myself.”

Maysin nodded and gave him a confidant mile. “I 
will wait here for you, Charlie.”

Charlie stepped inside and was surprised by how 
quiet and empty it was. Tables were arranged in 
the center of the tent holding fresh basins of 
water for washing muddy paws and covered platters 
of fresh fruit, breads, and cheese to sate hungry 
bellies. A few servants milled about preparing 
for the day, but he saw no rats. There were a few 
private inner rooms, and out of one of them a 
familiar opossum emerged. “Lord Charlie? Your mother is waiting inside.”

Charlie took a deep breath and turned toward the 
opossum who stepped out between the folds of the 
inner chamber to let him through. “Thank you, 
Baerle,” he said with an inclined snout as he 
stepped past. The warm radiance of a witchlight 
glowed within. He put one hand on the soft linen 
doorway and slipped through. The cloth trailed 
down his tail as he blinked in the light.

The inner chamber was arranged as a small sitting 
room with a single mirror to help the lady of the 
house properly correct her adornments after 
enjoying then hustle and bustle of the festival. 
There were two cushioned chairs and a small trunk 
tucked beneath the mirror and table against which 
rested a fresh willow branch all lit by a trio of 
witchlights circling above. Sitting in the chair 
farthest from the entrance was his mother, 
Baroness Kimberly Matthias. She bore an azure 
gown with frills along her arms and neck. The 
amethyst lined stone rested against her bodice. 
Her dark eyes fixed on him and her voice, soft 
and controlled, met him, “Come in and sit down, Charlie, my son.”

He opened his muzzle to speak but could not move 
his tongue. Dumbly, he sat down, long tail 
sliding into hole in the back and pooling on the 
cloth covered ground beneath them. His hands 
gripped his knees and he did he best to keep his 
claws from digging into the luxurious fabric. “I... I'm sorry, mother.”

His mother's eyes were so intent, her snout still 
though not quite able to hide a faint tremble, 
that Charlie lowered his until he stared into her 
lap. Her hands were wrapped tightly about one 
another so that her knuckles were white. Those 
hands had tended and cared for him when he'd been 
weakest and more innocent. He felt shame anew for 
turning their gentleness to wrath.

“I am sorry. I shamed myself and I shamed my sire.”

“Father.”

Her voice was so clipped it made him blink open his eyes. “What?”

The Baroness narrowed hers. “He is your father 
and you will call him so. Do not use whatever 
term you've devised to hide that behind your 
adoption by Archduke Sutt. Not to your own mother.”

He tensed, feeling as sharply upbraided by the 
reprimand as if he'd been struck on the backside 
by the willow branch at her side. “I am sorry I 
shamed my father. I am sorry... I am sorry I hurt 
him and you and all our family.”

Charlie could see the tourney field in his mind, 
kicked up with dust and smelling of the sweat of 
hundreds of Keepers who'd been there and bled 
before him. Before him cowered his father, hiding 
behind a battered shield, his voice filled with 
uncertainty, fear, and worry; not worry for his 
own life, but for Charlie himself. He had prided 
himself on recognizing mood from only the timbre 
of a speaker's voice and yet he had failed to hear it when it mattered most.

The Matthias clan – his family – had been 
watching from opposite the High Box. What must 
they have felt that in that moment? His younger 
brother and sisters, all of whom looked up to 
him, were either confused or filled with shock at 
how violently he had struck at their father. 
Erick, his litter-mate who was dear to him in a 
way he could never express, must have stumbled in 
denial, unwilling to admit that his brother would 
do so contemptuous a thing. And his mother 
Baroness Kimberly Matthias, must truly have been 
livid, struck to the heart as deeply as the band struck the Baron in the chest.

“I'm so sorry...” Charlie trembled and bent 
forward, his snout falling into upturned hands. 
Another pair of hands caught his shoulders, these 
tender and firm. He blinked and look up in time 
to see his mother wrap her arms about his 
shoulder sand pull him tight to her chest. Tears 
dripped down her cheeks as she rumpled her dress 
and his own with her embrace. Tentatively, 
Charlie slipped his arms around her back and held 
close. His reserve lasted only seconds before his 
grip pulled taut and he shuddered, feeling very 
much a child again needing the comfort of his mother.

Despite being a head taller than his mother, it 
was her chin that rested between his ears, and 
her whiskers that brushed across their tender 
pink flesh. He could smell not only the bath 
salts she scrubbed her fur with the previous day 
but the remnant of the coffee she had drunk that 
morning to help rouse herself as early as the 
Sutt household. Between them the strong and 
familiar scent of rats filled his nostrils, not 
just his mother's unique texture, but that of his 
many brothers and sisters, but especially the 
brittle coolness of his father's musk a blend 
that always carried a touch of stone amongst the fur.

Charlie made no move to let go, even when the 
stone medallion about her neck dug into his chin. 
He had never had anything but love in his heart 
for his mother and he would not change that now. 
Against her chest he murmured, “I love you, mother. I'm sorry.”

“I love you too, Charlie,” she replied as her 
arms squeezed him tight one more time before 
letting go. She shifted back into her seat. He 
twitched his now freed whiskers back into place 
and sat up a bit. He smiled at the corners of his 
snout at those words. With firmer voice she 
continued, “We all love you, Charlie. Your 
brothers and sisters adore you! I love you with 
all my heart; not a day goes by that I do not 
think of you and wish you were at my side. And 
your father loves you; he may not say it, but I 
know he too thinks of you always.”

He took a long deep breath, fighting to regain 
his reserve lest he become as emotional as a 
woman. “I know. I know it and I'm sorry I 
forgot.” Charlie closed his eyes and found 
waiting for him the vision from his sire's 
dreams. He ground his molars together and by 
instinct reached for his chewstick. But he 
stilled the motion and forced his eyes open once 
more. “But I saw things, mother, I saw things 
that made me question that love. Father has... 
been trying to explain them to me.”

“Is that why he came to our chambers so late?”

“Aye. I fear I kept him up telling me the story e'en to the midnight hour.”

A brief snort almost seemed to brighten her demeanor. “How like him.”

Curious, he narrowed his eyes. “He said nothing to you?”

“No. He tossed and turned in his sleep and did 
not finally find rest until shortly before I 
rose. Our servants are rousing him now so he can 
put in a good appearance and quiet the rumors. I 
expect you to greet him where you both can be seen.”

“As does my...” he stumbled and then continued, “my mother. And father.”

“Charlie,” Kimberly said, stretching out one hand 
to grasp his own. “Your father did not need to 
tell me anything for me to know in my heart what 
hurts you so. I may not have raised you, but you 
are still flesh of my flesh, you are still my son.”

He nodded and sighed. “I hurt because I'm not a 
Matthias. And there's more to it than just the powers I share...”

She tightened her grip on his hand. “He is telling you about Marzac isn't he?”

His whiskers flicked upward with his eyes. “He's told you the tale?”

Her snout tightened and she shook her head. Her 
voice was hushed, and her free hand lifted to her 
chest to rest upon the purple stone resting 
there. “No. Not his part. But I know it haunts 
him more than anything else. He has never truly 
slept well since those days. Most nights he 
manages well enough but there are others.... Do 
not tell him I told you this, but I have seen him 
whimper in his sleep like a common dog.”

Charlie felt shame fill him again. “I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

“Very few do, Charlie. And what he is telling you 
now he has spoken to few if any before. I have never heard all of it.”

“But you knew,” he said with a sigh. “You knew something was wrong.”

She nodded and patted his hand, offering him a 
faint smile. “I did. I could not put it into 
words but I knew. But it took another to make me see it for what it was.”

His eyes narrowed, curiosity blossoming anew in 
his heart. “Another? Who? What happened?”

Her smile did not waver, but there was a timorous 
note to her voice. “I am not the storyteller your 
father is, but I'll tell you what happened. It 
was only a few days after your father returned 
from Lake Barnhardt to help Jessica...”


----------

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

Charles Matthias
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