[Mkguild] Dance of the Betrothed (1/3)

[C. Matthias]

Man, this is my first new Metamor Keep story in 
almost six months.  Gah, I have got to work on my time management skills.

Anyway, this tale is also something of a first 
because it is entirely set in 724 CR.  If you are 
watching me on FA, you'll recognize the opening 
scene as I just posted a sketch of it.  Enjoy!

Part 1 of 3


Metamor Keep: Dance of the Betrothed

by Charles Matthias


Monday, August 9, 724 CR


The dust made his nose itch, but the clash of 
practice swords was all Sir Erick Matthias could 
think of. He dodged to the left and swung his 
blade but the frog opposite him was nimble and 
pirouetted aside. More dust kicked up as their 
legs and his tail lashed the practice grounds 
outside Matthias Keep. He wriggled his whiskers 
and thrust, unwilling to let the frog gain an attack.

Erick and his dearest friend Bertram usually 
trained with Erick's father. But the Baron was 
settling a dispute between the stonemasons and 
civil engineers building the outer wall. The 
second crane had been replaced three weeks ago 
and had moved not ten stones into place before a 
fight broke out. The engineers accused the 
stonemasons of deliberately ruining several 
blocks. The stonemasons accused the engineers of sabotaging their work.

It was really about money. Both stonemasons and 
engineers wanted more as the outer wall and ring 
of towers the Baron envisioned took longer to 
build than any had once thought. Money was one 
thing Erick's father never had enough of.

He felt a sharp sting on his left shoulder and 
stumbled to one side. “Ha!” Bertram croaked as he 
lowered his blade. “The match is mine!” The frog 
stepped out of the dust cloud toward a small 
grove of trees; they were the only ones to remain 
from the forested promontory on which the Keep 
was built and around which the small village and 
bailey walls were growing. Bertram dipped his 
webbed hands in a bowl of water and then splashed 
his face several times. Yellow eyes blinked as 
the dust rinsed from his tender skin. “Ah, much better!”

“You know what Father would say. Your enemy will 
not give you time to rinse your skin in battle.”

“Aye, aye, but dead men – and dead rats – cannot stop me!”

Erick laughed and slapped his padded leggings as 
he walked toward the copse, trailing little 
storms of dust in his wake. He lifted a brass 
ewer and lapped the wine within. Bertram tilted 
his head forward and blinked; it was the frog's 
way of showing disapproval as his fixed wide lips 
could neither grimace nor smile like a rat. Erick 
set the ewer in the grass and wiped a drop from 
his whiskers. “I'm dead, and the dead can do what they like!”

Bertram bulged his throat sac with a load croak 
and hopped into one of the tree branches. “Can the dead climb trees?”

Erick picked up a pine cone and pitched it. 
Bertram ducked and sat down, dangling his gangly 
legs out of the rat's reach. “I hope not! Now get 
out of there. We should practice more.”

But the frog didn't move. His yellow eyes glanced 
across the outer wall for a moment before 
alighting on his friend. “More? Still miffed your 
brother placed higher in the tourney?”

Erick thumped his tail on the ground. “Well, aye! 
I'm the knight and he's... not a knight!”

Bertram laughed, tipped backward off the branch, 
and landed on his long, webbed feet. “You'll do 
better next time. But we won't have any more time 
to practice today. I saw a caravan heading up the 
road. I think it's Master Julian.”

Both delight and a feeling of impending doom 
struck him. As long as he could remember visits 
from Master Julian meant gifts for him, his 
litter-mates, and all his younger siblings. When 
they were young he brought sweet candies or 
strange fruits from far-off lands. Since his 
tenth year the gifts were either fancy clothes, 
trinkets to display his station, or delicate 
craft of wood or glass to display in his family 
home. He gave brief thought to what he might receive this time.

And while he had known Julian and his father's 
other friends from Metamor would come to attend 
his litter-mate Bernadette's wedding, Julian's 
arrival was too soon. The wedding was not for 
another three weeks. Even his brother Charlie who 
had promised to come early and hunt with him in 
the Narrows would only come next week. Julian's 
early arrival must be for some other reason.

And with Julian arriving in a caravan, she must 
be with him. Lenora, his betrothed.

“Are you sure?” Erick asked as he set hand to tree. It was an easy climb...

Bertram shrugged as he bent over the bowl and 
splashed more water on his face. “They were flying merchant guild pennants.”

He tested his footing on a burl. “Your father perhaps?”

Bertram turned his flat head and croaked a laugh. 
“You know my father always returns from trading 
season with as little fanfare as your father will 
permit him! He's not likely to be waving pennants 
of any color.” The frog's skeptical expression 
faded and his goggle eyes blinked. “Although, he 
could be accompanying Master Julian for 
Bernadette's wedding.” His wide mouth opened in 
an amphibious grin. “I know one person who will 
be there. Your precious lady rat!”

Erick scowled and fluttered his whiskers. “She is not my lady rat!”

“Oh, the lovely maid Lenora!” Bertram hopped up, 
twirled in the air, pressing his arms and hands 
together under his chin in an exaggerated swoon. 
“Fair of whisker and shrewd of tongue! 'Tis a pity she is so young!”

“Bertram, stop it!”

The frog grasped a nearby tree trunk and swung 
around, his free hand pressed atop his heart. 
“Her fur, soft alabaster white. And her incisors, what a bite!”

“Bertram, I'm warning you!”

The frog danced to another tree which he hugged 
while tracing one finger across the bark as if it 
were a woman's bodice. “Beauty she, yet uncertain 
he. What could his reservations be?”

Erick picked up the brass ewer and hoisted it. “I 
will brain you with this! I promise!”

Bertram flicked out his long tongue and danced 
back, bowing like a jongleur. “He did not choose 
her, Father did. And gave him her as wedding bed!”

He flung the ewer, but Bertram jumped out of the 
way. The wine spilled across the practice field 
and soaked into the dust. “Would you hold still! 
Argh! Impossible frog!” Erick threw up his arms 
and stormed away from the trees. He heard the 
frog land behind him and felt a webbed hand on his shoulder.

“Oh come now, Erick. Why are you so afraid of 
Lenora? She seems to like you. I've seen her admire you.”

He shoved the hand from his shoulder. “So do my 
younger sisters but I'm not going to marry them!”

Bertram croaked and Erick imagined the frog 
trying to roll his eyes. “Well, if you really 
don't like her tell your father. He's letting 
your sister marry a carpenter; a journeyman carpenter even!”

Erick stopped and glowered at the outer wall. His 
father would be on the other side trying to forge 
peace between the workers. “I'm the heir. It's my duty.”

“So do your duty then!” Bertram stepped alongside 
and cracked his wide lips. “Maybe you'll like 
Lenora if you spend time with her.”

“And if I do not like her?”

“Maybe his grace will invite you on more of his campaigns!”

Erick felt his heart lift at the suggestion. Next 
year he would join his brother on the long 
journey to Vysehrad with the ducal heir so Bryn 
could woo King Pelaeth's sister. Bertram would be 
at his side, but little else had been decided; or 
at least, if Bryn or Charlie had decided anything 
more they had not informed him. The thought of 
more adventures with the Duke's son and his brother was an appealing one.

In these days of relative peace there were few 
chances to win glory and honor for his house.

“Well, all right. I will try. But I'm not 
forgiving you your poetic jests so easily!”

Betram laughed and hooked his arm behind them. 
“As long as you don't expect me to clean up your mess!”

He glanced back at the ewer of spilled wine and squeaked.

----------

A part of Erick preferred waiting at the Keep for 
Master Julian's arrival, but after returning 
ewer, basin, and practice swords, he and Bertram 
rode down the avenue of close-fitted stones 
through the village of tradesmen and laborers 
until they reached the outer wall. Earthworks 
were transforming the hollow nestled against the 
mountains into three rings of terraced 
fortifications in which a prosperous city could 
abide. Only the inner-most bailey wall and Keep 
were complete, though the Baron had plans for 
expanding each once the other walls were finished.

Where the road met the outer wall a gatehouse was 
underway. The northern tower was the sixth in a 
planned twelve and the site where his father was 
nearly crushed a few months ago. The foundations 
for the seventh were laid and trenches were dug 
for the next thirty feet, but nothing more. The 
hard-packed road running east through the Narrows 
widened as it reached the proposed gatehouse and 
there it was Erick found his father waiting for the caravan to arrive.

“Ah, Erick, Bertram, come! How was your morning 
practice?” Baron Matthias waved with a smile as 
he saw them. His light blue tunic was dusty from 
the road and the earthworks, but he sat astride 
his pony with patient dignity. There was a touch 
of weariness Erick recognized in the crinkle of 
scarred flesh around his right eye, but the 
twitch of whiskers and delighted jowls were genuine.

Towering above the noble rat was his Steward. 
James was already taller by a head – not counting 
his long ears – but mounted on a horse the donkey 
now dwarfed his friend of almost twenty years. He 
bore a dark blue tunic of similar cut and a 
medallion marking his station and fealty to the 
Matthias house. The donkey smiled on seeing them, 
then returned his eyes to the caravan making its plodding way down the road.

Erick pulled the reins when he reached his father 
and chuffed with a shrug. “Short once we spied 
the caravan. Have the masons and engineers stopped fighting?”

His father grunted and tensed his fingers on the 
saddle horn. “If anything they are making it 
worse. They know I need them working before the 
wedding and want to rob us blind. I pray you 
won't have quite as many squabbles to settle when the Narrows are yours, Son.”

“I hope and pray they won't be mine for many 
years, Father!” Erick glanced at the 
fortifications and smiled when he saw a trio of 
rodent ears at the top of the half-built 
gatehouse tower. “Do you know why Master Julian 
is coming? Bernadette's wedding is still three weeks away...”

“I do not. I was not expecting him for another 
two weeks. This is the busiest season for 
merchants. Harvest is almost here and Metamor is 
flush with traders with furs from the north and 
spices and perfumes from the south. So he must 
have a good reason to come to the Narrows now.”

“How long have you known he was coming?”

James shifted in his saddle and pointed to the 
tower top with his muzzle. “A bird arrived an 
hour ago with the news.” He turned to the frog 
and his ears folded back. “Your father is with him, Sir Bertram.”

“He is?” Bertram sat up straighter and wiggled his long toes in the stirrups.

“Which is welcome news,” the Baron admitted with 
a broad smile. “I just hope it means trading 
season has been more profitable this year.”

“Does my mother know?”

James jerked his snout toward the Keep. “I sent 
the bird along to the Baroness with the news. If 
she doesn't know she will soon.”

“Of course,” the Baron added with a warm smile, 
“you are freed from your duties. I've already 
given the craftsman the rest of the day to spend 
with their families; I could do no less for you, Sir Bertram.”

The frog croaked his delight. “Thank you, milord 
Matthias! But... I will wait here to greet Master 
Julian and my father with you.”

“Good man.”

The caravans crested the last rise along the road 
through the Narrows. A team of two to four horses 
led each wagon or carriage while their pinions 
marked by coin and weight fluttered with a 
mountain breeze. Erick recognized Master Julian 
and Bertram's father Gibson riding alongside but 
the others were unfamiliar. He did not see Lenora. Dare he hope?

“Look out below!” a voice squeaked from the 
half-built tower. All eyes lifted as three rats 
leaped from the top-most stones and glided over 
their heads. Erick and Bertram laughed, James 
shook his head, and the Baron snapped with exasperation.

“Nat! Misha! Meredith! How many times have I told 
you to stop jumping from the towers!”

The three rats of the second litter waved at 
their father before feigning remorse as magical 
conduits brought them safely through the air and 
to the ground with no more haste than a trio of 
leaves embracing autumn. Erick had been almost 
three when they were born and could still 
remember trying to help their father build new 
beds and toys, while his sisters helped their 
mother change and dress them. They had been his 
playmates for many an adventure and mischief, and 
they had always looked to him to decide what to do.

Both Natalie and Misha demonstrated a talent with 
magic, doing the same things with witchlghts and 
little enchantments their mother did at only 
four. The Baroness taught them as much as she 
could, before asking the skunk mage to take them 
on. Meredith, chubby and affable, had accompanied 
them and helped with books and other learning 
even though he could not make an oiled wick so 
much as smoke let alone handle witchlights. They 
were a litter and did everything together; they 
knew each other as themselves and could not imagine being apart.

Erick envied them; his litter had always been 
apart. Even when Charlie did visit he felt an 
absence. He could not remember his litter-mate 
Ladero, but he always knew in his heart there 
should be a fifth rat. They did not say it, but 
his sisters Bernadette and Baerle felt it too.

And in a few weeks Bernadette was to be married; 
she would leave the Narrows for the Glen and only 
return to visit. And if Baerle made good on her 
intentions to join the nunnery at Metamor, the 
only rat of his litter left in the Narrows would 
be him. The thought filled him with loneliness.

Misha brushed his hands over his whiskers 
blinking all innocence. His dusty, almost red 
fur, glimmered with a bronze cast in the 
afternoon sun. “But we were only practicing, Father!”

“And we took the stairs up,” Natalie, hooded 
black over white like Erick, added with a broad 
smile and click of her tongue against her 
incisors. She twirled her chewstick between her 
fingers before taking a quick bite.

Meredith, who Erick wished would come training 
with him to work off the stones all the extra 
pastries and cheese added to his girth, chittered 
for several seconds before adding. “It did seem easier, and... fun.”

But the Baron was undaunted. His dark eyes 
narrowed and he tightened his grip on his reins 
to steady his startled pony. “Your studies are 
with Master Murikeer, and he is in the Glen at 
present! What if your spell went awry? You could have landed on top of us!”

“But it didn't,” Natalie pointed out.

Misha nodded. “Falling like a feather is an easy 
spell. We've done it from much higher up in the Glen.”

“You have what?” The Baron sighed and rubbed his 
forehead while James tried to hide his chuckle 
behind one hand. Erick and Bertram didn't bother. 
Erick even gave his siblings an approving wink. 
But before they could reply, their father waved 
his hands and shook his head. “Never mind; I 
trust Master Murikeer to keep you safe. But if 
you are going to practice falling, please do it 
from small rocks and not towers!”

They assured him they would, though Erick doubted 
their resolve would last the week. “We saw Master 
Julian,” Meredith added after his apology. “Could 
we stay and greet him when he arrives?”

“I suppose, if you can find your ponies in time. 
You cannot greet our guests on foot.”

Natalie and Misha ran back along the wall while 
Meredith tried to chase after, his whiskers 
drooping and his jowls sour; if there was one 
thing his brother hated it was riding a horse. 
Bertram shouted encouragement while James and 
their father exchanged knowing looks.

As they waited, Erick ran his claws through his 
pony's mane, and listened to the familiar sounds 
of home. The soft susurrus of voices carried 
through the dry, August air, and with them he 
heard the ringing of the smithy, the sharp 
staccato of sword practice, the clatter of hooves 
on stone, and the muffled thumping and grinding 
of wheels on hard dirt. He lifted his gaze to the 
sky and offered a silent prayer. Eli, what do I do?

He could think of nothing more to ask.

The sound of wagon wheels and voices grew louder 
as the caravan descended the long slope. Erick 
took a deep breath and straightened out his tunic 
as the caravan reached the bottom and started 
back up the gentle incline toward the gatehouse. 
He felt his father's eyes on him and turned. 
Baron Matthias smiled, eyes bright and proud. 
Erick sat taller in his saddle as he smiled back.

The second litter managed to find their ponies in 
time, as the trio cantered back down the main 
road, settling in just behind them as the caravan 
neared the gate. The Baron nodded to them, and 
then touched his chest, brushing across it with 
his fingers. All three looked down, and then 
Misha and Meredith quickly brushed little wood 
chips off their tunics and put their chewsticks away.

With his family properly apportioned and mounted, 
Baron Matthias eased his pony onto the road. 
James, Erick, and Sir Bertram crossed the road to 
form a line on the other side. Natalie, Misha, 
and Meredith lined up across from them. The 
caravan stopped before the gatehouse though there 
was nothing standing in their way. Coming around 
the first pair of wagons was a white-furred, 
red-eyed rat sitting awkwardly atop a quarter 
horse; a somewhat more comfortable frog followed after him.

The rat, dressed in a black vest and tunic with 
gold trim, smiled and waved one arm expansively. 
Master Julian was not theatrical like Charlie's 
father; every gesture was meant. “Baron Charles 
Matthias, might we have the honor of entering 
your beautiful home and breaking bread with you?”

Baron Matthias smiled and opened his arms wide in 
welcome. “I would be honored to have you as guest 
in my home. You are welcome, Master Julian, and 
all of your kin and companions. I am very happy 
to see you. And you, Master Gibson, you are also 
very welcome. Come, let us ride together to my home and talk.”

Julian rode forward and fell in beside Charles. 
Erick and the rest of the Matthias clan followed 
along, leading the caravan. Bertram slipped back 
on his pony until he rode beside his father. 
Erick turned his head enough to see the two frogs 
reach across and hug tight, eyes bright and 
proud. The rat smiled for his friend.

Erick found himself riding beside James and 
behind his father and Julian, with the second 
litter following close behind. He could hear 
Meredith grumbling as he struggled to stay in the 
saddle while his litter-mates flanked him and 
gave him gentle nudges whenever he started to 
tip. Bertram and Gibson followed and spoke 
moderately, but between the creaking of wagon 
wheels and the voice of the rats ahead of him all he heard were croaks.

Charles and Julian spoke cordially and with great 
fondness, complimenting each other on their 
appearance and health and asking after each 
others' fortunes. Erick let his eyes follow the 
twitch of two, long rat tails, both a sullen pink 
hue. His father's was lined with little brown 
hairs, while Julian had white making his tail 
appear brighter. They both dangled across the 
back of their ponies before sliding over opposite 
thighs so as not to lay atop equine tails. Erick's own did the same.

He didn't often think about how unusual it was 
for a person to have a tail; he and most everyone 
he knew had one. He even felt a little sorry for 
Bertram who lacked one. But staring at his 
father's and Julian's reminded him if he married 
Lenora, their children would be rats too. How 
much trouble had he and his litter-mates caused 
with lashing tails? He chuckled beneath his breath at the idea.

They followed the road from the incomplete outer 
gate toward the first of two finished walls. 
Laborer camps dotted the earthworks, and many an 
eye peered from ramshackle huts and tents at the 
Baron and the merchants as they passed. When they 
reached the next wall they all came to a stop and 
dismounted. The road beyond was too steep for the 
wagons – a fact his father had plans to fix in 
the next year or two – and so they would proceed 
on foot while Julian's men unloaded their wares 
in the storehouse just within and the horses at the stables beside.

“You've made good progress since my visit last 
Spring,” Julian noted as he handed his reins to a 
vole ostler. “Shall we discuss your success over 
a bit of tea? I have fresh cardamon pods just 
imported from Boreaux; they will suit your love for tongue-biting flavors!”

“I have the perfect leaves for them! Come!” 
Charles laughed as he dismounted, casting a 
backward glance at his heir. “Erick, come join us.”

“It would be my honor,” Erick replied. He slipped 
from his saddle, letting James take the reins. 
The donkey, in his quiet way, had the ostlers and 
other servants organized in moments to manage the 
horses and ponies as well as to assist Julian's 
men with their tasks. Behind him his siblings did 
their best to sneak away but the watchful eye of 
the Steward marked them; they joined Bertram, 
Gibson, and the servants in helping unload the wagons.

Erick chuckled before his breath caught tight in 
his throat. The door to the third carriage opened 
and a lithe rat the same age as his siblings 
emerged. She had white fur and red eyes like her 
father, with little ribbons tied about her ears 
and a gossamer veil draped between them to 
suggest flowing hair. She bore a fetching 
vermilion dress to match her eyes complimented by 
a small silver locket about her neck. Her tail 
was decorated with ribbons in the shape of roses.

Lenora. His betrothed.

She caught his gaze and her whiskers twitched in 
pleasure as she dipped in a curtsy. Erick gulped 
and after a quick nod of his head, chased after 
his father. He hoped Bertram hadn't seen him!

----------

Erick's father brought Julian to his study, a 
small room adjacent to his bedchambers with a 
hearth, a small writing desk, five oaken chairs, 
a bookshelf with a dozen tomes and scrolls, and a 
service with freshly stocked kettle, ewer, and 
goblets. Charles invited his son and guest to sit 
while he rebuilt the fire. Julian noted the lack 
of decoration or cushions on the chairs and then 
threaded his tail through the back as he sat.

“I thought I had chairs with the twin peaks of the Narrows built for you.”

“Those are in the great hall. And thank you, 
Julian; they are quite handsome indeed!”

“If we have another bountiful season I shall have 
more built. You should be greeting your personal 
guests with more opulence. It is what they are accustomed to.”

“So you remind me. But between the wages I must 
pay – they demand more and more – and the 
defenses I must build, there is little left for 
opulence.” He coaxed the flame into life with a 
few heavy breaths and then added some logs. “There. Do you have the pods?”

Julian offered him a small sheepskin pouch which 
Charles took to the service. The pouch held two 
cardamon pods which he crushed with a pestle and 
then swept into the ewer. To this he added a 
generous supply of small leaves. The scent 
pricked Erick's nose and twitched his whiskers.

“I must say you appear to have fully recovered 
from your accident three months ago.”

Charles nodded as he hung the kettle over the 
fire. He thumped his left leg with one hand as he 
turned around. “I fear I will always be a little 
slower with this leg than I once was, but aye, 
the wounds are all mended.” Erick's eyes flicked 
to his father's chest but saw only the blue tunic 
and not the scars of stone hidden beneath. “So, I 
take it the trading season was more profitable 
than usual? We were not expecting to see you or Gibson for another two weeks.”

“It is not over yet, but aye, it has been very 
profitable this year. Goldmark is seeing to the 
affairs in Metamor and will join us in two weeks 
for your daughter Bernadette's wedding. Our 
unexpected guests from Vysehrad and the Steppe 
brought with them many rare goods as well as 
prestige. We've been able to trade at higher 
prices with so many come to Metamor and through 
our southern factors to obtain such curiosities.”

Charles settled down opposite the white rat and 
laconically crossed his footpaws and curled his 
toes. “Metamor's control of Ellcaran and its 
trading routes has no doubt helped.”

Julian beamed, red eyes brightening. “Indeed! My 
factors in Menth and Midtown have never seen so 
many ships and caravans! A few more peaceful 
years and Metamor will be the richest land in all of Galendor.”

“All of Galendor?” Charles chuckled. “She will 
have no shortage of contenders for such a claim!”

“Aye, aye.” Julian waved one hand and then 
fingered at a long, slender pouch on his belt. “I 
do wish to discuss the state of the Narrows with 
you, but first, as your guest, I have something 
more than cardamon pods to share.” He opened the 
pouch and they were struck by the sweet scent of 
maple, cinnamon, and apple. Julian took three 
chewsticks and handed each of them one. “Freshly 
seasoned. Hareford syrup and Ellingham apples 
with a touch of Tournemire cinnamon. I think 
you'll enjoy it while we wait for our tea.”

All three rats gnawed at the sticks while the 
kettle came to a boil. Erick savored not only the 
relief his incisors felt from the gnawing, but 
every morsel of flavor he tasted; it was at turns 
sweet and tart, and sometimes the little chunks 
of syrup he chipped off made his tongue tickle 
with spice. By the time he had finished the short 
chewstick, the water had boiled and the tea had 
steeped. Charles brushed crumbs from his tunic 
before pouring each of them a cup of tea.

“Thank you, Julian. What an incredible flavor! 
You've made my honey concoctions seem bland!”

Julian accepted the tea with a pleased grin. 
“Then my visit has begun on the right paw. So, 
Sir Erick, I saw your bouts at the festival and 
was quite impressed. A pity your father thrashed you so.”

Charles hid his blush behind a sip of tea. Erick 
almost spilled his as he sat taller. “It was... 
was... bad fortune being paired against Father. I 
did tell him not to go easy on me. I'm not 
ashamed at losing to one of the best knights in 
all of Metamor.” His father's eyes beamed at Erick's reply.

“Nor should you be. But I wager with a little 
more seasoning it will be your paw claiming the 
Summer Crown. Speaking of which, I hear you'll be 
spending the Winter with the ram Sir Dupré.”

“Aye. Sir Bertram and I will be there to assist 
with patrols, training, and with his wall. It is 
Metamor's frontier and if I am to do more than 
fight in tourneys I will need to be there.”

“Or journeying to Vysehrad with our headstrong 
young ducal heir,” Julian noted after a sip. His 
voice was light and proud, but shrewd as well. He 
wanted to understand what Erick hoped to gain 
from such a long and dangerous venture.

“It is hard to say no to such an offer and I 
would not have even if I thought I could. It is a 
chance to serve the heir, strengthen Metamor, 
bring honor to the Matthias family name, and to 
win renown for myself. It will be dangerous, but 
honor means little if I will suffer no risk for it.”

“And a chance to see more of the world.”

“I have not been beyond the boundary of the 
valley since I was a ratling,” Erick admitted, 
feeling a touch of jealousy for his litter-mate. 
“Aye, Master Julian, I do want to see more of the 
world. I love the Narrows and the Glen; they are 
my home and I will fight for them. But... I 
should have this chance too. How am I to be wise 
in ruling the Narrows if I know nothing of the world beyond?”

Julian favored him a knowing smile. The white rat 
knew there was more beneath the wise-sounding 
words – as did Erick's father – but he would not 
shame him to reveal them. “In sooth. Well said, 
Sir Erick. I know you will serve his grace well 
and you will bring honor and renown to your 
house. And you will see wonders neither I nor 
your father have glimpsed. Vysehrad! An ancient 
city full of legends! I do wish I could come with 
you. It seems quite an adventure!”

“Little has been decided as to the company,” 
Erick noted. “I am sure a shrewd merchant such as 
yourself could help us in many ways during our journeys.”

The suggestion caught Julian by surprise; his red 
eyes widened and scalloped ears backed against 
his head. “Truly? Hah! Rats may be well thought 
of here in Metamor, but too many beyond may 
startle townsfolk. If I were ten years younger I 
would actually consider it, but days when I might 
adventure are long since passed. My battles are 
across the bargaining table, my sword is a 
counting box, my quiver is filled with coins, and 
my shield a well-stocked ledger. And it is why I 
have come so early.” He turned toward the baron. 
“Word of your predicament reached my ears. Tell 
me more and I will do what I can to help.”

Charles sighed and sagged his shoulders. “The 
stonemasons and the engineers are quarreling. 
Ever since the crane snapped work seems cursed. 
Some of the stones have been the wrong shape and 
so the engineers accuse the masons of poor 
workmanship, while the masons accuse the 
engineers of sabotaging their work. I believe I 
have sorted through their claims but both are 
still demanding more coin; more than I can afford 
and still pay my men or bring in the harvest. I 
fear if I cannot change their minds I will have 
to abandon work on the outer wall for another 
year or more until the farms and herds bring more 
wealth. You have sent me traders but we have little to trade here.”

“What of the mountains?”

“I have already asked so much I do not wish to 
ask more. I do have a few gems they've given me 
in reserve I can sell, but they will only fetch 
enough to see us through the season. I could 
finish the gatehouse, but the southern wall will 
still be earthworks for years to come. The rest 
mean nothing if I cannot finish the wall; and 
there are still improvements to be made to the 
city and keep, not to mention the roads to the Glen and the Lake.”

Erick listened; his father was teaching him of 
finance and how to manage a barony, but there was 
always more to learn. He watched both his father 
and Julian carefully, trying to read what wasn't said.

“But you do have income from the farms and the 
herds; you control hunting in the Narrows as 
well. Have you considered a levy per head of deer taken?”

Charles shook his head. “I cannot. Part of 
accepting my barony meant keeping peace between 
the Glen and the Lake. Both have been granted hunting rights on these lands.”

“Surely you must have other income.”

“I am still a Long Scout even if retired; no Keep 
taxes at least – I owe a little to Baron Avery as 
I am his vassal. I also have some from sale of 
old works from my days in the Writer's Guild, and 
I have gifts from time to time, but these are 
pittances. Most of my income is from taxes and the land.”

Julian sipped his tea and drummed the claws of 
his free hand on the arm of the chair. “With time 
and cultivation your land will yield all you and Erick need for your house.”

“Barring poor harvests or sick herds.”

“Aye. But for now you need to finish these walls. 
I have come because I intend to help you, 
Charles. I do not have enough to finish them for 
you, but what I have is yours. In the days and 
weeks ahead, I promise you, we will find a solution, my friend.”

Erick sat taller, ears lifting in delight at the 
offer. Charles sighed into his tea. “You have 
already offered more than friendship demands – 
much more! Julian, I... I cannot let you bankrupt yourself on my account!”

“Rubbish! I am investing in my friend and,” his 
eyes cast toward Erick, “my future son-in-law. I 
would be a poor father indeed if I did not ensure 
my daughter a prosperous future. Speaking of 
which, Sir Erick, Lenora would enjoy a tour of your home.”

His fingers tightened around his tea cup. “But... 
but she's already seen it.” His younger sisters, 
who played with her as children, and now gossiped 
with her in their adolescence, had taken her on 
previous visits everywhere within the walls and 
even into the new village springing to life around the Keep.

“And she should see it again. I'm sure there are 
many things you know about the Narrows she has 
never seen.” Julian offered him a knowing smile. 
“And if you wish to receive my gift, you'll have 
to fetch it from her, young knight.”

Charles gave his son an encouraging twitch of the 
whisker. “Go and spend time with Lenora, Erick. 
There will be many days yet for negotiation you 
can help me with. I want none other by my side 
than you. Little is going to be done today except 
the welcoming of honored guests.”

“Of course, of course.” Erick stood and took a 
swallow of tea wishing it were ale. “Thank you, 
Master Julian, for the excellent chewstick and 
tea. And thank you for coming to help us!”

“You're a good rat, Erick. You do your father proud.”

He finished the last of his tea, handed the cup 
to his father, and took his leave. He stepped 
lightly out of the room, but turned his ears back 
and slowed his pace as he reached the door to his 
father's suite. His father's voice was low but 
Erick's hearing had always been excellent even 
for a rat. “Julian, thank you again for your 
offer of help, but... you have given me more than 
I could ever pay back already. There would not 
even be a Keep here in the Narrows let alone a 
half-built outwall if not for you! I must pay for 
this myself if I am ever to give Erick a barony 
worth its name; if I do everything on credit... 
the upkeep alone will destroy the Matthias house in its second generation.”

Erick winced; were there other debts his father kept from them?

“Nonsense. You owe me nothing, Charles. It is I 
who owe you a dept I cannot repay. If not for you 
I would be a pauper in the cellars, a debtor in 
prison, or a thief in the gallows. You rescued me 
from my foolishness time and time again; and not 
I alone. Goldmark, Hector, Saulius, and even 
Elliot, may Eli have mercy on his soul. We all 
owe you more than we can repay. I more than the 
rest. And do not be afraid for your family; I 
will not let your sons and daughters become debtors either.”

“You pay me back every day you are an honest 
merchant and a rat standing proud and tall, 
Julian. Little gives me greater pleasure.”

“Then as friends we help each other, Charles. No 
debts. No repayment. Just friendship.”

He heard his father squeak a laugh. “Very well. 
Friendship. So no more talk of my finances. Tell 
me of your trading season this year. What's new in Metamor?”

Erick eased out the door and pulled it gingerly 
shut behind him. He wondered if his father knew he'd been listening.

----------

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

Charles Matthias
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