<html> <body> Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats by Charles Matthias and Ryx Pars I: Disipicio (q) Charlie spent almost an hour reviewing his studies before wishing his mother and sister a good day and leaving their house in the Keep. Already the both of them were hard at work preparing delicate sauces and creams for the evening meal to delight Father on his return. He gave them his love and quickly dipped one finger in a fruit cream before Suria could swat his paw. The morning fog had finally burned off in the warm Spring sun and the the morning worship had finished for many Keepers. As he ambled toward the Duke's residence with a slight limp inspired by a heavy whack of Bryn's sword the previous day he passed by many familiar faces who hoped he would pause for a word or two of gossip. Charlie bemoaned his duties as a means to escape their clutches and hurried as best he could on his way. After a dozen or so minutes he found the horse lord, his wife, and their son in the great hall – their other children were young enough to still be at play under the watchful eyes of trusted servants – and uncomfortably bent one knee, if briefly, in a bow to his liege. Thomas' large, heavy hand gave his shoulder a gentle grasp, “Good morning, Charlie. You slept well, I trust?” “I did, Thomas.” Charlie smiled as he stood. Out of the public eye they addressed each other by name rather than title, formality set aside by familiarity. “Nothing confers a good night's sleep like dodging a two stone bar of iron being swung at them for hours all chased by a generous portion of mead.” “I'm not accustom to the pells dodging, Charlie,” Bryn nickered warmly with a smile. “I walked out of there probably more exhausted than you.” Charlie chuffed with a twitch of his whiskers. “But less bruised.” Bryn's braying laugh echoed from the walls of the Great hall. “I'd argue that point, Charlie! That fireplace poker hurts, and there was no way to parry it with that monstrous bloody sword.” He rubbed the left side that had borne the brunt of many stinging swats of the poker. Owing to the fact that the stallion had been wearing leathers Charlie had spared nothing in his swings or stabbing pokes. Officially Charlie had been 'slain' by his assassin three times, and Bryn dispatched no less than six, mostly due to the fact that his sword was indeed too large to be used effectively, for attack or defense, in the confines of the bed chamber. “But you comported yourself well, finding more things to fight with in there than I would have. I mean, a log of firewood?” He rubbed his brow off of which that faggot had bounced. “That hurt, too.” “Master Vidika dost teach thee well,” Alberta noted with approval and a slight wagging of ears even longer than her son's. Though the duchess had lived in Metamor since before Charlie had been born, she had never lost the Flatlander speech and even, it was suggested amongst the courtiers, deliberately maintained it because it delighted Thomas in ways outre. “I shalt ask him to accompany us when we dost visit the southern fiefs next week. I wouldst dearly love to see thy skills in battle, my son.” Bryn stood taller and his tail swung from side to side with pleasure at the suggestion. Charlie hid the smile that filled his jowls. But all of their heads turned to one side as they heard the slow, metallic squeaking of a laden cart being pushed from a corridor to one side. “Ah good, the Stones,” Thomas whickered. He mounted the dais upon which the ducal seat stood and, after bowing to his wife Alberta and giving her hand a kiss, settled himself into the massive throne. “Spring is upon us, and with it the season of trade begins in earnest. It's time to verify with the merchants what stones they will be using, and ensure that they are still weighed properly for the year.” Upon the cart were ten blocks of polished black volcanic basalt, which had been used by the Duke as far back as Ovid I, to set a fixed measure of weight for trade goods within the borders of the Northern Midlands. Each stone had a polished steel ring anchored in the top and its official measure engraved and inlaid with shining gold upon it. The fifth, its crown ornately decorated with gold inlay, was The Stone. The first four were quarter weights, and the remaining five multiples of The Stone's weight. The tenth stone was a full hundred weight heavier and dominated much of the cart. Upon a second cart was a massive scale that would be used to measure each stone that was presented by the tradesmen. They were only required to have at least six stones; four quarter weights, their own master Stone, and a single stone of five times master weight. Merchants would have weights smaller than the quarter stone but those would be tallied by the Guild of weights and measure. Thomas had taken the Stones away from that Guild not long after they had come to Metamor and discovering that the guild, and certain influential traders, were being less than truthful in their weighing. He had also brought the Guild under the Keep's charter to maintain a degree of credibility that rather few other kingdoms used. Beginning with the smallest stone and a large wooden bucket delineated with intricate measurements the Guild representatives studiously calibrated each stone by its weight, measured in volume of water plus the weight of the bucket itself. It was not the first time that Charlie had sat in on a weighing of the Stones and he found his mind wandering. The Duke was there merely to establish the weighing as Official, and Bryn was sitting in to learn how the process was conducted though he, too, had seen it happen many times. Each Spring, Midsummer, and Autumn the stones were weighed and, almost every Spring, Charlie attended. The Summer, and often Autumn, checks he missed usually because he was traveling with his father to the south on diplomatic and trade missions. His father would be returning from his latest trip later that day and Charlie looked forward to it. He had many questions to ask, but he also missed the man who had taken him as his son. As much as he was conflicted about being separated from his birth family – not to mention the strange suggestions and peculiar comments he had found in his father's journals as well as the behavior of his birth family – he did love his father wholly and without reservation. Bryn was sensitive to his distraction and at one point nudged him with a hoof. Charlie had begun to slouch and let his eyes wander away from the weighing of stones. He quickly sat up straight, tail sweeping across the floor behind him, and favored his friend with a rat's smile. His mind continued to wander but he did his best to be attentive as the merchants busied themselves with their weights and stones. He idly wondered what Thomas was thinking about; surely not even their noble liege could be fascinated by something so mundane and dry. After the last stone was weighed and its precise measurement noted by the guild scribes, Thomas thanked them for their diligence and wished them fortune and prosperity for the season ahead. The guild leaders thanked the Duke for his generosity and they, along with the Stones, left the Great Hall back the way they had come. Just as they left another set of trays were carried in, these by Thalberg, Sigismund, and several other servants. Thomas brightened, as did those with him, at the smell of fresh bread and fruit that was succulent enough to make even Charlie forget his distraction for a moment. Sigismund brought platters to both Bryn and Charlie for them to sample, doing his best to maintain his poise and not spill anything. Thalberg kept one eye on his oldest son, but it seemed more a look of fondness than of worry or scrutiny. Even while they were being served another one of the trade guilds arrived with business to discuss. Charlie did his best to listen as they discussed the quantity and quality of silver that was anticipated from the mine that Summer. Charlie was amazed that they had been able to keep secret the truth behind the mine at Joy's Legacy. For while it produced a supply of silver rivaled only by the Sathmore mines which both Sathmore and Pyralis warred over in western Galendor, its real treasure was the mithril found deeper within the mines from which the silver was carefully extracted. A few years ago his father had taken him to see the mine for himself. Charlie had been impressed with the caverns already mined and into which complicated wooden supports, catwalks, and pulley systems had been built to shore up the walls and simplify the work of moving large rocks from the interior chambers to where they could be processed and the silver and mithril extracted. But the gloom of the place, and the eerie light that seemed to radiate from the walls had unsettled him as well. He was grateful for the mine and that he had never gone back. The discussion on silver did not last as long as Charlie feared it would. But after they left no one else came to take their place. Thalberg, who was keeping a steady eye on several new servers that day, took the opportunity to clear his throat. “Your grace, if I might have a moment of your time.” “Of course, Thalberg,” Thomas said with an inviting sweep of one hand and a smile revealing flat teeth beneath supple lips. “What affairs weigh upon you?” Thalberg dipped his long green jaws down for a moment, yellow eyes never leaving the Duke.“I merely wished to mention, your grace, that the remaining guilds to see you this day present business regarding preparation for the Summer Solstice festivals. I believe that they wish to know where they will be allowed to sell their wares this year, and what sort of contests will be held. The craftsman will want to provide goods suitable to any Keeper who would try their hands at tourney or at games of skill. And the rest want to know that they might feed the multitudes flocking to Metamor for the festivities.” The horse lord tipped back his head and laughed. “Ah, is that all? I am very relieved to hear it! I trust that you have the plans ready that we discussed last time?” Thalberg waved toward his son, who rushed forward, tail slapping the stone, with a heavy scroll-case in his arms. “Everything is ready for whatever question you might be asked.” Bryn leaned over slightly and whispered into Charlie's large ear, “What events will you compete in this year?” He tilted up his snout and whispered back, “I haven't decided yet. I...” A blaring of trumpets at the entrance to the great hall made all of them turn in surprise and delight. Charlie felt his heart leap into his throat and he was standing even before the cryer could announce the new arrival. The cryer, a large bull dressed in the Hassan red with little tassels dangling from the tips of his horns, bellowed at the top of his lungs, “His grace, the Archduke of Sutthaivasse and Western Pyralis, Malger dae ross Sutt.” Two knights in scale and plate polished to a blinding gleam stepped through the door shoulder to shoulder. One was a towering, broad shouldered oryx, his proud horns cropped down to more easily manage the limits of doorway lintels, the enameling of his shield denoting Charlie's house, while the other was a wiry wolfhound bearing a shield of Thomas' heraldry. Both knights turned in crisp unison to take up stations to either side of the arch. Through the great double doors stepped a lithe pine marten, his coat a deep chocolate brown beginning to gray around his snout and ears. His long whiskers twitched as he smiled hugely with a vivacious brilliance in his eyes that almost matched the brilliance of his dress. The marten was garbed in a doublet and hose with gold trim in all the seams, his open sleeves alternating a brilliant red and green, while his surcoat was a glimmering sheen of opalescent blue and jade green. Between his ears he bore a hat festooned with a plume of feathers so that he resembled not so much a marten as a peacock. This he swept off when he reached the foot of the dais and dropped to one knee with a deep bow, “Greetings, milords, milady.” He crooned with a perfect tenor as he genuflected before the Duke and Duchess. “And son,” He added with a slight tilt of his head to catch Charlie with one merry dark eye. Continuing the flourish of his arm he donned his garish hat once again with a flair as he raised his eyes to those seated before him. “Thomas, I have returned with success and good news for you and the duchy. It is very good to see you again.” Charlie never understood his father's garish and outright foppish dress, nor would he ever share it, but seeing him again brought a broad smile to his face. Only his courtly manners kept him from running across the hall to hug his father to welcome him home. Still, he was pleased to see that his father's dark brown eyes sought him out first of those in the Hall, and the gray and brown fur around his muzzle creased into a pleased smile full of warmth and relief. His father was as happy to be home as Charlie was to have him home. Thomas merely snorted humorously at the exaggerated greeting, bidding the marten to rise with a short, exasperated wave of one hand. With no courtiers or other audience to bear witness there was little need for such pomp. But Malger ever was the showman, and his genuine regard for the duke waxed playful as often as formal. “We are all relieved to see you home, Malger,” Thomas replied with a nod of his head in return. “I trust your journey was an easy one?” “We had a short squall near Ellcaran, but the delay was only hours. We made it up with a hard ride the next day. Nothing so hard that my tail hasn't already forgiven me.” Malger stood from his bow and briefly whisked the unsullied knees of his fanciful leggings below which his humanesque footpaws were naked. Charlie, his adoptive mother, sister, and the entire Matthias clan had the crook-shanked lower legs of the animals that they resembled, whereas Malger did as well, only the species he had become walked flat of foot leaving his feet both bestial and human-ish at the same time. When he traveled he wore boots, but like most in Metamor he walked unshod within the realm. His tail twitched and swayed as it was spoken of as if the furry length had a personality of its own. “And all went well with the negotiations?” “As well as can be expected, and perhaps a bit better than I anticipated. Marigund paid full price for the one stone weight mithril bar stolen and the cost of splitting off the small beads they are permitted in a year. And in return for the rest of the mithril, Kelewair has ceded all claims to the lands west of Marcheorte forest.” Everyone breathed a sigh of relief at the news. “That should make the merchants very happy indeed. Now we can protect the trade routes from Giftum to Ellcaran from brigands instead of Kelewair raiders.” “We hope,” Malger reminded him. “Not every one of Verdane's vassals approves of your claims to those lands.” “They once belonged to my family a hundred years past. Memories run deep in these lands.” “They do. But so too does ambition,” Malger cautioned him. “Jaran Calephas is now sitting on top of one of the most prosperous trade routes in all the Midlands while we are at one of its ends. He is not his brother, but he covets your throne.” “True,” Thomas mused with a sigh. “We must discuss the details of your negotiations later. I am sure you wish to spend your day with your family, my friend.” Malger had already turned his head toward the rat who was his son. “I would indeed. Charlie!” He stretched out his arms as Charlie rose and stepped down from the dais. Father and son, marten and rat, hugged each other tightly, snouts pressing on each others' shoulders with warm laughs and firm pats on the back. “You are looking well!” “It is good to see you again, Father.” Malger ran one paw over his head fur and smiled with obvious pride. “Thomas, if I have your leave, I would like to take my son and retire for the evening. Unless you have need of him?” Thomas laughed and waved one arm. “Go, my friend! He hides it well, but he's been thinking about you all day anyway.” Charlie felt a bit chagrined as even Bryn laughed at that. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>