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

[C. Matthias]

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

Pars V: Ascensum

(g)


Wednesday, June 23, 724 CR - Morning


Thomas waved his arms once more to gather 
everyone's attention. “In a single mark of the 
candle a banquet shall be hosted here for all to 
enjoy. The Peoples of Mountain and Steppe will 
treat us to the food of their land, so call come, 
partake, enjoy! As we eat we invite you to admire 
the skills of flight by your fellow Keepers 
gifted with wings as they fly overhead. Then, in 
two candlemarks the Mages of Metamor have 
promised us a closing ceremony never before seen 
beyond the distant kingdoms of the South!” Even 
before the proclamation had been completed an 
army of laborers moved onto the field, fast on 
the heels of those who had just groomed it back 
into shape after the recent scuffles. Tables were 
marched in upon strong shoulders, quickly filling the entire field.

The final banquet of the summer festival was a 
riotous affair, with thousands wandering through 
the tournament field pacing the briefly 
immaculate earth flat and kicking up a clinging 
pall of dust that no one paid any heed to.

Charlie joined the Matthias family and retainers 
as they made their way into the milling throng, 
commoner and noble rubbing shoulders freely with 
only the most minor reflexive spacing between 
stations. Eventually they joined the Royal 
assembly, which enjoyed a measure of uncrowded 
space provided by a cordon of relaxed, but alert, 
men-at-arms. Despite being uniformed, armed, and 
strategically placed to provide that space the 
guards, too, enjoyed the banquet as freely as 
anyone. Ales and wines were provided in 
abundance, but so too were less intoxicating 
libations such as juices, teas, mile, and water. 
Charlie partook of the juice fortified with small 
quantities of wine, but not enough to cause his wits to dull.

King Pelaeth managed to harangue Baron Matthias 
into a lengthy re-telling of his southern journey 
insofar as it dealt with the Rheh, the 
foreigner's retinue surrounding the rat and human 
seated in comfortable chairs at one side of the 
tournament field. Charlie stood among the 
listeners, sipping his juice, while Bryn sat 
beside the visiting princess sharing small fruit 
and the occasional meat pastries provided by the Keep chefs.

While their ears inclined to listen to Charles 
weave his tale of the legendary, magnificent 
horses of the Åelfwood, their eyes marveled at 
the agility, speed, and variety of avian Keepers 
coursing, diving, gliding, and cavorting in the 
sky. Charlie spotted a flock of hawks all diving 
in formation and picked the Justicar's eldest son 
only as they turned out of the dive, swooping 
with an audible rush of air only a dozen feet 
above the tournament field. The story paused for 
a moment so that all watching could applaud such 
skill. A moment's breath and Charles resumed the story.

“That will never heal, you know,” A level voice 
muttered at Charlie's side, distracting his 
attention away from a length description of the 
Rheh's beautiful, and astonishingly swift gait. 
Turning his head Charlie found his brother and 
littermate, the rat knight Sir Erick, at his 
side. His brother held a mazer in one hand and 
was idly swirling the dark fluid within while his gaze was cast toward Charles.

“Pardon, brother?”

Erick shot him a sidelong glance, his ire writ 
stark in the hard stare of his dark rodent eyes. 
“The injury you left him with, Lord Sutt.” 
Charlie's whiskers backed against his muzzle and 
his ears twitched, one brow lifting at the 
unusual use of his title. “He tries not to let us 
know, but we see it. The small cuts and scrapes 
he earns helping the workers show what he was 
left with; the stone curse. Under the fur, small 
scars not of flesh, but rock.” Erick waved his 
mazer toward his father with a jerk of his 
muzzle. “And now you've left a lash across his 
breast that will forever be stone.”

“Something I would undo if I could, brother,” Charlie sighed with a frown.

“Why, then, did you assail him so?” Erick's voice 
was an angry hiss, the rat's hard gaze turned 
fully upon his brother. “What pique brought that 
about? Or does that father of yours grant you the 
freedom to trammel upon whomever you please?”

Charlie snorted. “Hardly, Erick. He, and my 
mother, upbraided me rather soundly for my deplorable behavior.”

All Erick did was snort derisively. “Oh, to have 
a spoiled brat sullying the house Honor, forsooth!”

“Honor?” Charlie chuffed incredulously. “That was 
never brought into their ire, Erick. Yes, I did 
act dishonorably, and for that I chastise myself. 
Their anger was in that I had injured my father, 
had it been done without witnesses or here on 
this field matters not. Truly, had it been any 
other who I faced and acted as I had they would 
have been as equally affronted by it – by my 
behavior, for that is not how they raised me.”

“You're still a spoiled snot, milord. You're 
angry at Father for – what, then? How has he 
wronged you that he deserved to be humiliated 
before the eyes of the entire bleeding kingdom?”

Charlie turned a scowl on his brother, looking 
down his muzzle from his slightly greater height. 
“How? Erick, he sold me away!” The young rat 
snapped, coming to Erick's level of ire. “Took me 
from my mother, my family; you, my own brother!” 
His hand waved toward Charles in his chair, 
beside which Kimberly sat in another chair, her 
fingers resting upon their father's arm. Their 
litter-sister, Baerle, stood behind Kimberly's 
chair, her chin resting upon her arms crossed 
atop the tall back of the chair, a smile upon her 
muzzle lifting her whiskers while she listened to 
Charles' tale. “For a ghost, Erick. A ghost!”

Erick scoffed. “Sold you? For what end? We have 
no alliance with House Sutt! Your father patrons 
that mage Murikeer's manor, but offers nothing to 
the family that gave him a son. Any you? Angry? 
What gives you the right!” The rat's voice was a 
low-pitched growl that did not carry to the keen 
ears of their respective families. “You live in a 
castle; I lived in a tree for my first decade! 
You get your fancy clothes and more servants than 
you can name, and what have we? One or two 
presentable wardrobes and no servants at all for 
most of my life.” Erick swept his hand out again 
with an angry jerk. “Even now you retain more 
staff, for yourself, than our entire House has 
between us! I've never traveled beyond this 
valley and yet you've seen half the world in your 
travels. What have you to be angry of?”

One of Charlie's brows crept up as Erick's 
diatribe gained vehemence, the raw pain and anger 
in his voice taking the young rat aback. “I'd 
give it up to have my brother, my sisters, and 
the parents of my blood, Erick. That is your 
legacy, your privilege, which I will never have. 
You have not seen how it pains me each time I 
walk into your House? Or even the humble tree we 
were both born in? I love that tree and missed it 
for years!” He finished off his wine-fortified 
juice and clutched the empty mazer, gazing into 
it for a moment. “Had I never learned that I was 
a bartering chip between a man and a god I would 
have lived with that pain, silently, until the end of my days.”

“But?” Erick snarled with a glare. “How could you be a chit in such games?”

“Because... ahh, Erick, would that I could tell 
you but it is a tale days in the telling and even 
I have not heard the fullness of it. Suffice to 
say, I was blessed – nay, perhaps simply cursed – 
with a rare talent that would have driven me mad 
ere my fifth year had I not been adopted by Malger.”

“And how, then, does that dark goddess of 
yours...” Erick asked flatly, his eyes flicking 
up and past Charlie's shoulder after a moment. 
Charlie turned, following his brother's glance, 
to see Maysin standing a short distance away, her 
ears erect and eyes curious. Seeing that she had 
captured their attention she held out a hand and 
Charlie quickly handed her his empty mazer. 
Taking it in her hand she transferred it to her 
empty hand and then reached out, this time toward Erick.

“I assume you wish to have more drink to fight 
back the dust, milords, and wet your throats 
before you growl yourselves dry?” Her dark equine 
eyes shifted from rat to rat, her hand steady, 
until Erick relented and surrendered his mazer. 
“If you wish to come to blows, I can ask the 
Duke's staff to clear the tourney field.”

After a long moment Erick shook his head and 
looked down, chagrined that their argument had 
caught someone else's attention. “Nay, t'is 
merely a disagreement between brothers.”

Maysin's merry bray cut into the tension between 
them like a boulder down a mountainside. “Betwixt 
I and my younger brother, such often did come to 
blows, until he came into his adult muscle and 
trounced me a time or three.” Saluting with the mazers she withdrew.

“So?” Erick prompted again, drawing Charlie out 
of the press surrounding the nobles and their 
stories of past valor. “How is it your tail is 
only now twisted into a knot about your adoption?”

The two of them relaxed against the railing near 
one of the competitor's pavilions at the end of 
the field where the press was not quite so tight. 
“Because – I learned something, unexpectedly. It 
made me feel that Father did not... did not value 
me, as a son, when I was a Matthias.” He sighed 
and shrugged, watching the Keep staff trying to 
keep pace with the ravenous appetites of the 
throng swirling through the tournament field and 
tables like a spring cataract through a 
too-narrow stream. Many of the birds had landed 
amongst the throng to take their refreshment now 
that their flight was finished only further swelling the tide.

Erick scoffed. “What, you think he just tossed 
you out with the bathwater, then? I know, 
somewhat, what it is you can do, but I cannot see 
how it put you between Father and that crone of yours.”

“She is not a 'crone'!” Charlie snapped in a 
moment of heat, glaring at his brother. “Get your 
nose out of that dusty book and look around, she 
and the rest of the Pantheon are a damn sight 
more real than your strung-up martyr. Have you spoken with Him?”

Erick held up a staying hand. “Peace, brother. 
Nay, you know well that I have not. None have, 
even his Holiness who stands closest to Him.”

Leaning closer, Charlie raised a hand to poke 
Erick, not lightly, in the center of his breast. 
“Well, brother, I have spoken with Her, and do so 
rather often. I have dealt with the taint of the 
Daedra in Her realm, and the careless leavings of 
the Aedra who care not that She maintains the 
balance between them. So cease with your vitriol, 
simply because I do not – I can not – bear that 
tree of yours around my neck.” He dropped his 
hand and paced away to lean his elbows on the top 
rail of the fence. “And, rest assured, She is as 
piqued at me right now as you are. The only one, 
it seems, who has forgiven my childish ire is 
Father. You would do well to follow his wisdom, as you grow into your House.”

“Would that I have those years to grow, brother, 
before someone leaves my father more stone than 
he is now.” With a last gimlet stare Erick turned 
and walked through the open tourney gate, 
disappearing into the festival crowds in ten paces.

Charlie blinked after he vanished and stretched 
forth one arm after his brother. “Erick, no, 
wait. I...” But his brother was gone. Charlie 
grimaced and lowered his head until his forehead 
rested against the top rail. “I am sorry I grew 
angry with you. I am sorry I spoke ill of 
Yahshua.” He grunted and bumped his forehead into 
the rail a few times as if he could jar loose all 
the tension. Over the years he and his brother 
had shared a few words of disagreement over 
matters of faith just as he had with Bryn. But 
where Bryn and he had come to an understanding 
and only teased each other lightly from time to 
time, he and Erick had never had the time to 
truly understand how each other felt.

And, in truth, if not for his gift – his curse – 
he would have remained a Matthias and remained 
amongst the Patildor in such matters. “I am such 
a fool,” Charlie muttered to himself and hit the railing with his fist.

“Charlie? Are you well?” A familiar and gentle voice asked.

The young rat stood and turned, breathing a long 
sigh. “Hello, Bernadette. I am well enough if an 
idiot.” His sister and litter-mate chuckled 
lightly. Her light-tan fur seemed to glow in the 
afternoon sun, and the white fur beneath her chin 
was crisp and clean, colored by a pink tourmaline 
in a simple brooch. Her soft lavender dress was 
presentable, as Erick had said, but simple and 
with fewer frills than Charlie's raiment. Still, 
he smiled to his sister and said, “You look 
lovely in that dress, sister. Your betrothed, 
Godfrey, is a very fortunate groundhog.”

Her whiskers backed in a pleased rodent smile, 
and her hands clasped at her waist where a simple 
ribbon had been tied into a bow above her skirt. 
“Thank you. You know he loves you. All he ever 
wanted was to be with his brother.”

“Erick?” She nodded, stepping closer to him until 
she could lift one hand to touch his arm. His 
whiskers drooped and a long sigh escaped his 
throat. “I love him too. I wish we had more time 
together. But... that's not how things are. There are... things between us.”

“You mean Her,” Bernadette noted, her soft eyes meeting his.

“That mostly, but now there is Father. And you, 
sister? Have you anything you wish to say to me on that score?”

“Nay,” she patted his arm and then gripped it so 
that he felt her claws through his sleeves. “I 
would forgive you even if Father did not. But 
Charlie, please do not be a stranger to your own 
family. I know it is harder for you than it is 
for the rest of us, but...” She loosened her grip 
and lowered her eyes. “But we still miss you.”

Charlie grimaced and nodded. “I haven't felt like 
I belonged there for some time now. I can 
remember feeling at home with you and Erick and 
Baerle at every visit when I was younger. But 
now...” He shook his head and slumped his 
shoulders, his tail thumping the dust at their 
feet. “Will you tell Erick I am sorry for what I said.”

“I will. His anger never lasts long.” She patted 
his arm one last time. “Will you be all right?”

He offered his sister a small smile, lifting his 
whiskers an inch. “I will. I'm beginning to see 
and understand things better now. And,” he lifted 
his arms and grasped her shoulders, “I cannot 
promise I will visit as often as we both would 
like, but I will visit more. And I will attend 
your wedding as your brother and not as a 
visitor. I'll even wear the Matthias colors 
because that is who we are in our blood.”

His sister's smile stretched her entire snout and 
into her cheeks. She dove into his chest and 
wrapped her arms tight about his back. “Oh, 
Charlie! Thank you! It wouldn't have been the same without you there.”

For the first time that day he felt a sense of 
peace fill him as he returned that embrace. All 
he could do was murmur into her round ear. “Thank you, Bernadette. Thank you.”

----------

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

Charles Matthias
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