[Mkguild] Faithful Battles (5/7)

[C. Matthias]

Part 5

Metamor Keep: Faithful Battles
By Charles Matthias


After inspecting the Sanctuary to see if there 
were any other Followers in need but finding 
none, Felsah decided to bring both Patric and 
Richard with him on the summons to the Lidaman 
house. The jerboa Questioner forced himself to 
walk so they could speak together as they made 
their way through the ever-changing halls of the 
Keep. In low voices they discussed his plans for 
the remainder of the week and the other merchant 
families Felsah wished to visit in his hopes of 
starting his little school. Patric and Richard 
listened, then took turns explaining why some of 
the families could never support his ideas and suggesting others who might.

Their way through the Keep made a sharp turn down 
a small ramp into a long transverse hall. Felsah 
had never seen it before but he'd found the Keep 
was often sending him down twisty little passages 
all alike but never the same. Each passage in the 
Keep carried with it scents from all who had trod 
before them, and knowing each hall and balcony 
and stair were before them only because the 
spirit animating the very stones around them 
willed it deliberately, or at least permitted it, 
there was a purpose within each who'd shared 
those steps with them, and a purpose in their sharing those steps too.

Richard's voice dwindled away as a particular 
scent struck his nose, a musky, earthy scent, 
colored by water and by fish. Shadows swelled 
beside him, the walls of stone falling away into 
the murk. Footfalls echoed around him as he 
stood, shapes mingling into nebulous clouds, cold 
and dry. Clay surrounded him, straw beneath him, 
and a figure hovering over him, eyes limned by a 
spectral light. Felsah rose upward as a face 
riven by a bright red scar leaned forward. An arm 
thrust, hand curled tight, and the priest 
crumpled beneath the blow. Another blow sent his 
face hurtling against the straw, bones cracking.

The scent, miserable and thick, filled the hay 
and floor, wet with tears and now wet with the 
iron of blood. A beast had laid here, a beast but 
not an animal. Now he laid there, trying to rise, 
only to be struck back down. A face blackened by 
a mask surrounding dark green eyes, tapered in a 
narrow snout with wide cheeks and short ears, had 
laid there before his arrival. Where his legs 
sprawled had been a tail, soft and ringed with 
light and dark bands. Voices whispered; questions 
he could not recall, but lingered there. Where 
had the beast gone? Where? Where?

“Here,” Felsah murmured, and then hopped on ahead 
of his startled companions. He reached the bottom 
of the landing and peered down both sides of the 
hall, sniffing for one moment, before launching 
himself down the right path. Patric and Richard rushed after him.

The passage made another turn a dozen paces ahead 
and there Felsah stopped, waving the others to 
stop as well. He could see around an ancient 
statue of a knight a pair of figures dressed in 
gray livery. The nearer was three-toed with a 
short tail, stocky of build, with a short 
protruding nose dangling over his mouth. The 
other was a raccoon. Both appeared to be young 
men ready to prove themselves in battle. They 
bore spears, though each also had a sword 
sheathed at their side. And though their backs 
were to the jerboa, he could hear their voices as if they spoke to his face.

“Are you sure it is necessary to have us march 
around like this? I've traveled the length of Sathmore by paw already.”

The tapir lifted his snout and patted the raccoon 
on the shoulder. “With traveling packs and 
musical instruments, aye. But with a sword or 
spear? The weight is different and you need to be 
used to having it with you. You wouldn't want to 
go into battle with a sore hip and a weak leg now would you?”

The raccoon grimaced and straightened the sword 
at his side. Though the were walking, Felsah 
thought them no further away than before. “Nay. I 
would also prefer not going into battle at all.”

“Only a fool does,” the tapir agreed. “But it is 
only patrol, Elvmere. Might we see battle, aye, 
but we're more likely to spend our time walking 
up and down the road looking impressive and 
stopping strange wagons to inspect their wares.”

“I thought there were brigands to the south.”

“Oh aye, some of those. But they prefer the woods 
and usually avoid the roads. This is your first 
patrol. We won't go too far from the roads the first week.”

Felsah could see Patric and Richard approaching. 
Both slowed to a stop a few paces before the 
corner. Richard's ears were lifted to hear, but 
bore only a moue of consternation.

The raccoon ceased fiddling with the sword at his 
side and wrapped both of his black hands about 
the spear haft. “I'm surprised the Lothanasa 
agreed for us to go on a two week patrol. It's a 
long way to be away from the Temple.”

“In the Winter they try to keep patrols short to 
keep us from freezing to death. This is Summer, 
Elvmere. And in the south there's going to be a 
lot more travelers to keep an eye on. Longer 
patrols means more ground can be covered and 
protected. Besides, a good long patrol will be 
good for you. And you are ready for it. Honestly, 
Elvmere, you're getting to be dangerous with your sword.”

“Thank you, Tamsin. I am trying to master it. 
I... I just wonder. Will I be able to use it if I 
have to? I... I've never drawn a sword against any man.”

“Not everyone can. But in battle, if we face one, 
you must do it, Elvmere. It is never easy and no 
good man likes it. But it is duty and a good man 
bears it bravely. Duty to your own life and to 
the life of your brother soldiers. We're all 
going to depend on you to fight with us.”

The raccoon straightened and his grip on the 
spear tightened. “I will do my best not to 
disappoint you, Tamsin. So... two more days then?”

“Unless George changes his mind again, aye. 
Tomorrow we'll get to meet the others in the patrol group...”

Raccoon and tapir disappeared around a corner and 
Felsah realized he could no longer hear them. He 
seethed a moment as he stared down the passage 
before turning aside and shaking his head. Patric 
crept to his side and gazed after him, turning 
his eyes all about before settling one on the 
priest. “What did you see? You look... pale, Father.”

Felsah glanced at the chameleon and the mouse and 
then back down the hall. The scent lingered in 
his snout, unforgettable. His tony was icy and 
crisp, the mask of the Questioner stilling his 
whiskers and jowls. “I saw two Lothanasi 
acolytes. One of them... was familiar to me. Do 
not concern yourselves with this and do not speak 
of it. Let us make haste to Master Lidaman's house.”

Nothing more was said.



Most of the merchants of Keeptowne either lived 
above their business or nearby. Master Lidaman, 
due to the nature of money-lending, kept his 
house of business adjacent to his family home in 
a large but still modest manor house nestled 
plumb between other aristocratic homes. The fires 
of the Winter Assault had not reached this 
neighborhood, but many of the windows and 
adornments were new suggesting they had not escape unscathed.

The Lidaman home was shaped like an 'L' with the 
counting house offices facing the street and a 
small courtyard with flowers and trees and even a 
little pond sitting between the dusty stone 
street and the rest of the house. Soldiers did 
not stand outside guarding the entrance, but 
Felsah could see slits in the second floor walls 
through which they could watch and fire arrows if 
necessary. However, outside of the garden and the 
expected decorations, there was little to draw 
the eye to the Lidaman home. It was fancy enough 
to belong among its neighbors but no more.

Felsah gazed at his shadow stretching before him 
along the stone path through the trees. With the 
late afternoon sun behind them the tips of his 
ears could brush the edge of the small pond. The 
path ended at the main house and a wide 
brass-banded oaken door beneath an ornate transom 
filled with stained glass. The rest of the main 
house was obscured by heavy boughs of ash and birch.

“Father?” Patric leaned forward and turned one 
eye to him. “Why do you stand there? You were invited.”

Felsah lowered his ears a moment and chuffed. “I 
have not been welcomed by many in this land. But 
you're right. Let us see what he wishes of me.”

He hopped down the path, the scent of asters, 
daisies, and dahlias tingling his whiskers. A 
strand of a gentle violin melody drifted from one 
of the second floor windows. Patric and Richard 
followed him, with Richard noting, “This part of 
Keeptowne is lovely in Autumn, Father.”

Felsah remembered. His first visit to Metamor had 
been in the Autumn, but he decided not to remind 
the mouse of it. “I look forward to it then. I 
have seen the leaves of these kind of trees change color before. Still...”

As they approached one of the doors opened. A 
splotchy-furred terrier in well-cut gray and 
brown stood stiff and attentive. “Good evening, 
my master bids you welcome and to accompany me to 
his side. I understand you are Father Felsah of the Ecclesia?”

“I am. And what is your name, good sir?”

“You may call me Conley, sir.” The terrier turned 
to his side and gestured with a sweep of his arm 
for the three of them to enter.

“Thank you, Conley,” Felsah murmured as he hopped 
across the threshold and blinked at the dimmer 
light within. Once all three were inside he shut 
the door, leaving only the light through the 
stained glass and the lit lamps at either end of 
the entrance hall. The colors stretched across 
the far wall like a coat of arms amid fields, 
forests, mountains, and cities. The wall itself 
was unadorned, leaving only the play of light to 
illumine an ever moving painting. Open doorways 
on the left and right led into the rest of the 
house. Conley walked to the right.

He led them through a well-apportioned drawing 
room and up a flight of stairs; the stairs were 
narrow enough Felsah had to walk up sideways on 
account of his long feet. The sound of the violin 
was clear, playing a soothing melody ever turning 
on itself and ever varied. At the top of the 
stairs there was a closed door on their left and 
an open sitting room framed by additional closed 
doors. Two figures sat discussing some affair, a 
youth who was dressed as a clerk and clearly a 
man, and a familiar pangolin – Kendrick Urseil. 
The bronze-plated creature blinked in surprise as 
he saw the three religious turn toward the one of 
the far doors, and then resumed his conversation with the dark-haired boy.

Conley rapped his knuckles on the door and 
called, “Master Lidaman, your guests have arrived.”

Felsah heard footfalls beyond the door and a 
momentary pause in the violin music. The melody 
began again, fainter now, as the door opened. 
Warmth spilled from the room, and inside Felsah 
saw another young man blond-haired and on the 
cusp of manly growth but never reaching it and 
behind him a tabby standing in one corner making 
the music, and a large bed in which sat a gentle 
cow sipping from a bowl of soup. On the other 
side of the bed stood one of the sisters, rubbing 
a damp cloth across the cow's broad forehead. Her 
eyes turned to the doorway and suggested a smile.

Lidaman's tenor voice was crisp and direct. “Ah, 
thank you, Conley. Gadfrey, would you be so kind 
as to attend to your wife for a moment while I entertain these men.”

The dark-haired youth smiled to the pangolin, 
rose, and nodded to his father-in-law and 
employer. “Of course, Master.” He smiled politely 
to the religious, slipped inside the room and pulled the door shut behind him.

“Come sit, Father. Kendrick, you are more than welcome to stay if you wish.”

The pangolin rose and waved his long claws. 
“Thank you, Master Lidaman, but it is late and I 
should be off. I will tell my family the good news about Elsie.”

“I will thank them for their kindness properly 
when my daughter is well enough to be out of bed. Good night.”

Felsah let Patric take the seat already warmed by 
the pangolin before selecting an upholstered 
chaise close by. Richard sat where Gadfrey had 
been a moment before. With all of his guests 
seat, Lidaman finally reclined, hands crossed 
over his lap in a relaxed but guarded posture. 
“Welcome to my home, Father Felsah. Patric, 
Richard, it is good to see both of you again. May 
I interest you in anything to eat or drink?”

“Thank you; whatever you wish to provide is 
agreeable,” Felsah twitched his whiskers into a 
smile as he pulled his legs beneath him on the 
wide chaise. His tail dangled off the other end 
and he could feel the tip brushing across the wood floor.

Conley did not wait for instructions but 
disappeared through the closed door near the top 
of the stairs. Felsah surmised the front half of 
the house facing the street was for the servants 
and guards. “I was informed you heard of my 
daughter's illness from Lady Halvemore. I have 
you to thank for bringing it to the attention of 
the Sisters. I have not had much opportunity to 
grow acquainted with them since their arrival six 
months ago. But even we Lothanasi have heard of 
the good they have done for the poor and sick of 
Keeptowne. I gladly welcomed them into my home 
and Elsie is already showing improvement under their care.”

Lidaman stood from his seat and bowed toward the 
jerboa. “From the depths of my heart, thank you, 
Father Felsah. I do not know when my physician 
will be able to return, perhaps tomorrow or the 
day after. Either way, his job will be far easier 
now.” He rose and sat back down, and Felsah could 
see, despite his youth, lines creasing his 
forehead. “Elsie is my only daughter, my youngest 
child. I have three boys, all married with 
families of their own. I delight in being a 
grandfather to their children. But a daughter... 
she is the priceless gem, the greatest treasure 
and beauty, the most sterling hope any father can 
have. A son needs discipline and direction. A 
daughter requires far more from her father. I 
give her everything I can, and it has pained me 
these last few days not to be able to give her 
her health back. You have helped me, a Lothanasi, 
and I have invited you here, not only to thank 
you, but to know you better, Father Felsah, and to understand why.”

Conley returned with a platter of small sausages, 
bread, and cheese. This he set on the table 
between them before disappearing again. Patric 
took one of the sausages while Richard and Felsah started with the bread.

Lidaman pursed his lips and heaved a sigh. “I 
have had some dealings with Father Hough these 
last two years and have found him an honorable 
man. I have never had either the pleasure or the 
misfortune to deal with a Questioner. I know of 
your friendship with the metal fox and it speaks 
well of your character. However, you are still a 
Questioner and the acts of your Order are not 
easily forgotten. Nor the uproar your first visit 
to Metamor occasioned. So I ask you, Father 
Felsah, why did you resolve to help my daughter? 
What do you hope to gain from it? There are many 
suffering in Metamor who lack my resources. Why not help them?”

Felsah gnawed for a moment and then cradled the 
bread in his hand. Conley returned with a trio of 
goblets suitable for beastly snouts and a ewer of 
wine. When he finished pouring, he set the ewer 
down on the table and stood by the door to 
Elsie's room from which the sound of the violin was all they heard.

“Before I answer, please let me thank you for 
your hospitality and for your honesty, Master 
Lidaman. Also, you said your daughter is improving, but what of her child?”

Lidaman cast a glance toward the door and the 
terrier standing watch. “Sister Perpetua said she 
is too early to tell for sure, but she was 
confidant the child would also be well. Elsie was 
quite over the moon when we learned she was with 
child last month. When my physician returns he will be able to tell us more.”

Felsah nodded and sipped the wine. It tasted dry 
with a hint of peach. “As you know, we learned of 
your daughter's ailment from Lady Halvemore. She 
had come to visit the Urseils and to spread the 
ill news. While it is true there are many in 
Metamor who suffer and have no money to see 
healers of any faith or training, I have never 
cared for the thought of sharing bad news with no 
hope of finding someone who can help. I do not 
believe Lady Halvemore had any interest in 
finding help for your daughter, and so I chose to 
inform the Sisters. Neither they nor I have 
offered our help in the hopes of any 
remuneration. Your daughter had need, and so we came.”

“And would you reject remuneration were it offered?”

Felsah shook his head. “No.”

Lidaman crossed his legs. “And yet you tell me 
you have no hopes for an offering. Why should I 
believe you? Saying you expect nothing you don 
the mantle of piety and humble service. Is it 
true or is it calculated? I have heard it said a 
Questioner is trained never to show what they 
really feel. How can I ever know your concern for 
my daughter and her child is honest?”

Richard's eyes bulged and Patric almost choked on his wine.

“I can only offer you my assurances and my deeds. 
If it is not enough for today, perhaps in time, 
as you see my deeds in Metamor, it will be.”

Lidaman's expression remained unmoved. “And why are you here in Metamor?”

Felsah took another sip of wine and twitched his 
whiskers. One eye strayed to the terrier whose 
ears lifted high for a moment before he turned 
and slipped inside Elsie's bedroom. “I was sent 
to survey the state of the Follower community in 
Metamor Valley and make recommendations to the 
Bishop on how to strengthen it; and if I saw a 
need I could answer, to answer it. The arrival of 
the refugees from Bradanes, Followers all, has 
strained what Father Hough could do alone. His 
efforts have been heroic, but he needs help here. And so here I am.”

“And what do you see of the Follower community?”

“They love Metamor as their home and bravely face 
the challenges faced only here.” Felsah bit off 
another chunk of bread and then reached for one 
of the sausages before Patric ate them all. “Of 
their particular needs I will not speak before those who are not Followers.”

“And why not? Are you afraid we Lothanasi might 
use it against you to drive you from our land or 
bring your children to the Light?”

Felsah kept his expression still. There was no 
apparent hostility in Lidaman's tone or posture. 
But still, the boy was almost as adept as a 
senior Questioner at masking his motive with his 
questions. No wonder he was so successful and 
well-respected. “I do not believe you have any 
such intentions, nor the Lothanasa. I will not 
speak of their needs due to my priestly vows. 
You, Master Lidaman, know very well the 
importance of keeping your word to your fellow 
merchants and to your liege. My word has been 
given to Eli. How much more faithful I must be!”

Lidaman said nothing for a moment, his thumbs 
rubbing together where his hands were clasped in 
his lap. Behind him the terrier opened the door, 
laughing at some unheard joke as he carried 
Elsie's soup bowl and spoon. His ears perked 
again as he turned and saw neither his master nor 
his guests speaking, grew immediately silent, and hurried toward the kitchens.

Richard and Patric ate and drank in silence, eyes 
passing between their host and the priest.

Lidaman lifted his thumbs to his lips for a 
moment before setting both hands down on the 
cushion at his sides. “Father Felsah, my family 
has lived at Metamor for many generations dating 
back to Ovid. The Patildor have been here for 
only two, and those of my father's generation 
were often in secret. Everywhere you Followers 
have come has seen nothing but conflict and war. 
The stewardship of the elves, the stability of 
Suielman, all of it has fallen. I do not pretend 
this is entirely the fault of your Ecclesia, but 
I have long been concerned with your growing 
influence and anxious to know what it might mean for my beloved home.

“I am not a religious zealot who believes you 
must all bend knee to the Light to be worthy of 
my respect or admiration, or even my trust. I 
hope one day you truly do win mine. What the 
Sisters have done for not only my daughter but 
those stricken by the plague has given me hope 
our two faiths can one day live together in peace 
and brotherhood. What you have done this day has 
given me hope you are also the sort of man who will help foster such a dream.

“But know this, if my hope is false and I learn 
you seek to foment strife in my home and pit 
Patildor against Lothanasi, I will do everything 
in my power to frustrate you and drive you back 
to Yesulam. And my power is considerable and 
unexpected. I tell you this in gratitude for what 
you have done and in the hope I will never have 
to do so. But you are right, I am going to wait 
to learn whether your generosity is genuine, or a 
mere show of piety for the sake of acclaim or 
money. I am hopeful, and you deserve my honesty 
as well as my hospitality, Father Felsah. Will you do the same for me?”

Felsah finished the sausage and nodded. “You do 
not mince words, Master Lidaman. Thank you for 
your honesty. I will not forget it. I have seen 
too much war and pain to ever want to bring it 
here. Metamor has seen too much already. In time 
you will know I am genuine. I hope I do win your trust. You have won mine.”

A small smile touched the edges of Lidaman's 
lips. “Never trust a money-lender until you read 
their every word, especially the small ones.” The 
youth laughed and leaned back in his seat. 
“Enough of this. Tell me, Father Felsah, can you 
stay a little longer? I would very much like to 
hear about Yesulam, and I hope you will let me 
tell you more of my home and its history. At 
least until the wine and food is gone.”

“We must return for Vespers at dusk so we cannot 
stay quite so long. But we shall stay as long as we can.”

“Excellent, I will have Conley warn us when the shadows grow long. Conley!”

And as Lidaman informed the terrier of his 
wishes, Felsah took a long sip of wine. His eyes 
strayed to the door and his heart offered a prayer for Elsie and her father.

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

Charles Matthias