[Mkguild] Designing a New Valley
C. Matthias
jagille3 at vt.edu
Sun Aug 28 10:10:40 UTC 2016
Here's a new tale for Metamor Keep. If you do
not recall these characters, I recommend reading
"Landing in a New Age", "New Home, New Beginnings", and "Invigorating Faith".
Part 1 of 1
Designing a New Valley
By Charles Matthias
June 7, 708 CR
Summer was on the way but mornings in Eagle Tower
were still cold. An occasional breeze brought
warm southern air, but mostly the wind descended
the mountain slopes on which the northernmost
watchtower of Metamor perched bringing the bite
of Winter even on the hottest days. Sir William
Dupré could not see his breath but he was
grateful for the thick wool he now grew.
The Eyrie cupola at the top of Eagle Tower was
warmed by the cast iron furnace in the center.
Alexander, the soldier whod brought him from
Mallow Horn and become a dog, added another log
and then retreated to huddle beneath a blanket on
the other side. Samantha, the raven haired
soldier of Hareford who had first shown them the
tower, was the third scout enduring a morning
watch; she leaned across the eastern belvedere
with her cloak about her shoulders, hands clasping a cup of once hot tea.
It had been over three months since William lost
his temper and assaulted Nestorius. Most of the
first two months hed spent on patrol, drilling
troops, surveying the Dike and the rugged trails
from Hareford, or sequestered within Eagle Tower
so their paths did not cross. In the last month
hed made an effort to befriend the lion mage and
earn his trust anew. Their shared past in being
exiles helped as the anger and pain the ram
suffered were ones Nestorius knew well.
It would still take many more months to recover the goodwill hed squandered.
And so William took every excuse to stay out of
Hareford. After a week of running drills in the
countryside and clearing trees along the main
road south he needed rest. Hed arrived yesterday
with his men and some servants, enjoyed a welcome
meal and a few hours of sleep, and then began a
shift in the Eyrie. Already he regretted it; his
eyes watched the Giantdowns in the north, but his
heart turned south to Mallow Horn.
The letter his eldest son the son Verdane had
stolen was treasured in his quarters. Hed read
and reread the letter more times than he could
count. Jory loved him and knew he was a Dupré
first and a Verdane second. His younger children
daughters Sasha and Lydia, and son Timas
remained in Mallow Horn with a mother but no
father; a mother who sought an annulment to deny
them even an exiled father. It had been more than
a year since hed held Jory in his arms; the
terrible campaign the thrice damned Marquis
enslaved him to had kept him from the others for
months before his sentence of exile. Nine months now perhaps?
He ground his flat teeth and flexed his nostrils,
angry at himself for woolgathering. He tapped the
edge of his curled horn against the belvederes
wooden supports. He was a Keeper in body but not
yet in spirit. The ram was the sigil of his house
but he never imagined becoming one himself. After
six months with wool, horns, hooves, and
two-fingered hands he had trouble remembering
what his human flesh felt like. Hed been hairy
of chest, arms, and legs, but how did they feel
beneath four slender fingers? The thick heaviness
of wool was all he knew. He hated the Marquis and
Verdane for stealing those memories too.
But the Marquis was dead and Verdanes eldest was
a prisoner in Salinon. Vengeance belonged to Eli,
or so the priests always reminded him; perhaps it had already been carried out.
The soft clop of hooves on the steps turned both
ears and thoughts. William and Alexander glanced
at the trap door as Blanche climbed through with
a bundle in her arms. The lady ewe had been
assigned by Nestorius to care for his quarters,
clothes, and meals, and this she did quietly and
dependably. Born in Hareford, she had never
traveled farther than the nearby villages until
Sir Dupré began bringing her on his patrols to
better see to his needs and the needs of the men under his command.
Good morning, sirs, she said as she set the
bundle on the ledge. William caught the scent of
fresh bread, butter, and preserves, as well as a
tamer but more interesting scent. It surrounded
her and made the dull off-white of her wool
fuller and appealing. Some days it was stronger
than others and on those days his nostrils would
flare, his chest swell, and he could not stop the
scraping of his hooves against the ground.
Though many nobles kept mistresses, and lechery
was hardly uncommon among any class of men,
William had avoided dalliances after marrying
Anya Verdane. He had already won the most prized
hand in all of the Midlands; what need had he to
further prove his manhood? And it kept the
priests happier; always wise for this life and
the next. But the real reason was his children;
he loved them too dearly to sully their line with bastards.
Alexander began panting and wagging when he
smelled the food. Samantha smiled at the ewe
before returning her gaze to the still,
fog-filled horizon. William shifted against the
belvedere and stepped toward his servant. Good
morning, Blanche. What have you for us?
The ewe carefully unwrapped the bundle as her
left eye found the ram. The pupil was slit
side-to-side like his making it difficult to know
where they focused. But he knew; doubtless she
was enticed both by his scent and by his sturdy
and handsome build. They were both black-faced sheep and this was Metamor.
There was little chance of muddying the lines of
succession for his children here in Hareford.
Perhaps she might consent to being mistress as well as servant.
Of course, she was probably a spy for Andwyn. He
would not trust her until he knew for sure.
His nostrils swelled and he scraped a hoof. Not
that he needed to trust her for...
Blanche's unassuming voice felt even quieter in
the tower cupola. I baked bread for you, sirs,
and brought some of the raspberry preserves from
last Summer's harvest. And a block of fresh
butter from Truskmore. Oh, would you like more hot tea, Lieutenant?
Samantha smiled and handed her cup to the ewe.
Thank you, Blanche. I'll have my bread with butter and jam.
Alexander noticed his drool and wiped his jowls
with one arm. The same for me.
William deliberately gazed toward the Dike and
waved an arm. I will also have some, thank you,
Blanche. And bring hot tea when you return. Then
see to the rest of the men. Let Captain Becket
know we'll stay here today and return to Hareford
tomorrow; he'll see to the duty rotation.
Blanche nodded and offered a shy smile. Of
course, sirs. I will see to it. She divided the
loaf of bread into three chunks, lathered each
with butter and preserves, then handed one to
Samantha, to Alexander, and to William. He waited
a few seconds while she offered it before turning
to her, staring with both eyes. The tips of his
hoof-like fingers brushed against hers as he took
the bread. Her ears tipped back in a caprine blush.
He took one bite of the bread and nodded. Very
good, thank you, Blanche. And it was. The jam
had more tart than he preferred but the butter
was richer than any in his homeland. Together it
made a pleasing taste. He scuffed a hoof and
forced his eyes toward the remnants of the Dike.
Do bring some hot tea. The mountain air is especially cold this morning.
I will, sirs.
Her scent lingered after the ewe disappeared.
William chewed each bite for nearly a minute,
eyes intent on the horizon. Branches of trees
stirred, birds flitted about with a morning song
in their throats, and he'd even seen a pair of
goats capering about the mountainside, but
nothing more than they wandered the borderlands
between a kingdom of beasts and the wild, untamed
Giantdowns. It took all his composure to watch
them while his heart thrummed and nostrils grasped at Blanche's fading scent.
He scuffed his cloven hoof on the stone beneath
him one last time. He could not escape what the
Curses had done to him, but he would not be
mastered by them. A moment of pride let the
Marquis trick him and destroy his life. A moment
of anger broke his friendship with Nestorius.
What could a moment of lust cost him?
He'd chewed four bites before Blanche returned
with a pot of tea. She refilled Samantha's cup
and poured some for both Alexander and William.
Though he held the cup still while she poured, he did not touch her.
Thank you, Blanche, he said when she had
finished. Tell Captain Becket I want him to send
two men of the Hareford troop here to the Eyrie.
I want to take him and my men out along the Dike before the day grows old.
He breath a silent prayer of thanks when the ewe left.
Samantha turned in surprise. Do you wish an escort?
Thank you, but nae, we'll be fine. You'll
probably be able to watch us from here. And
Andwyn was sure to have a spy or two among the birds in the trees anyway.
----------
It was warmer in the forest than in the tower and
so William and his men only wore the leather mail
common to patrols. Two freckle-faced boys, Martin
and Robert, led them amid the trees and the
tumbled, moldering stones they'd shoved aside
where the Giant's Dike once stood. The boar
Becket walked at William's side, small eyes wary
and alert, while his snout turned at every new
scent. Behind them followed Alexander and the
red-haired boy Anthony who still rubbed sleep from his eyes.
They were the soldiers who came to Metamor with
him from Mallow Horn. Once assigned the task of
enforcing his exile, they chose to join him
instead. There was no others in all of Metamor he could trust without reserve.
At least not yet.
For a stretch of thirty paces the ground was more
stone than dirt. Centuries of neglect allowed
tree roots to shatter the Dike's foundation into
a jagged landscape of moss-covered points. Some
of the ancient stonework remained above the soil;
lonely sentinels creeping with vines and filled
with cracks in which flowers and birds made their
home pitiful reminders of the glory once
attained by the Suielman. They had tamed
Galendor, but now they were a story to haunt the
dreams of Dukes and their monuments ruins for beasts.
He turned toward the nearest of these sentinels;
his men hastened to follow him.
The sentinel was a stack of four squat stones
each as long and wide as a man was tall. They'd
been positioned like bricks and now each cavity
was filled with ivy and brush. William traced
palm across the old stone but felt only moss,
lichen, and vines with broad spade-shaped petals.
He ground his cud between his teeth and flicked
his ears against his horns. He wrapped both hands
around the nearest vine and yanked.
It had dug deep roots in the old stone but with a
little persuasion it came free. The ram followed
every curve and fork, tugging and scraping until
he'd removed all of it. A pile of discarded
vegetation littered the ground between his
confused men. With the vine gone they could see
patches of the granite. One finger traced gently across it.
William swallowed the cud and snorted. These
walls were proud. Men made them to show his
might. He made them to protect his people. But
then lesser men rule to satisfy themselves and
damn everyone else; folly rules and empires fall.
Walls tumble down. Who can we protect, Becket?
Sir? Becket asked, stepping to his side. The
boar rested a hand against the stone, small eyes
even smaller as they squinted, trying to see
whatever it was his commander saw in the moldy sentinel.
William turned and gestured at the forest with
arms outstretched. This was the Giant's Dike. A
wall stretching from one end of the valley mouth
to the other. It kept the Lutin hordes, the
giants, and all terrors of the north out of the
Empire. Until fools neglected them and they were
overrun. You see what remains. Nothing.
Becket and the others glanced about. The boar
nodded and scuffed a hoof. It must have been
massive. Metamor would never have been Cursed if this wall stood.
Or attacked again last Winter, William agreed.
He kicked the pile of vines. How long before
they... before we are attacked again?
Becket shrugged. It could be many years. Nasoj's
hold on the Lutin tribes was broken. Metamor is
probably the safest it has been in generations.
Nasoj's hold was broken. But who else might
leash them? No, as long as our northern borders
look like this, he gestured at the broken
sentinel and shook his head. We will not be safe.
But who will rebuild the wall? It has taken them
a decade to rebuild Hareford.
William snorted. It will take a generation or
more to build a wall like the Suielman's. But
stone we have aplenty. And I wager there are many
from Bradanes who have no place to call home and
no work to busy their healed hands. The men and
resource are here, it is only the will we lack.
And the money, Anthony interjected.
And authority, Martin added.
William waved them both to silence. Aye, aye.
And I'm sure Nestorius will bring up the Haunted
wood again. He glared to the southeast.
Somewhere beyond the trees was a huge swath of
the valley's north haunted by spirits and
abandoned by men. Nestorius and Sir Edmund
explored the area from time to time, but all
others were forbidden to enter. They thought it a
buffer; one day an enemy of Metamor would not be
daunted by it and reach their heart. And one day
those woods would no longer be haunted and there
would be nothing but fading memory and superstition to deter raiders.
So what can we do? Becket asked.
William took a deep breath and snorted. Continue
our patrol. When we return I will suggest it. And
I will work to make it happen. There will be a
wall on this spot again one day. There will be.
He felt another lump of cud rising in his throat
and so waved his men along. They walked beneath
the forest trees where his wall would be.
It would be a fight, but it would keep Metamor
safe from their northern enemies. And all the
hard labor would take his mind off a certain ewe
and the southern world and family left behind.
Grim in thought and intent, Sir William Dupré
chewed his cud and kept a wary eye on the woods.
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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