<html> <body> Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats by Charles Matthias and Ryx Pars V: Ascensum (b) Wednesday, June 23, 724 CR The sun had not yet shown itself over the mountain peaks to the east when Charlie emerged from the Livery gate of the Duke’s wing. In the distance the hulking form of a giant was raking out the loose boxes that housed those mounts belonging to the Knights of the Red Stallion and the Knights of the Holy Yew. The giant’s huge rake cleaned each stall out in only a few passes and was shoveled into a wagon with an equally large tool. “Milord?” A deep though feminine voice came to his ears before he had gone a half dozen strides and he turned to find Maysin approaching from a side gate from which she had emerged. Though she may have set out from the Sutt garrison there was no telling how far she had walked to emerge from the Keep within moments of his own exit. When Charlie turned she gave a single-handed sweep of her rich blue dress with a look of ‘what’s with this getup’ curiosity. “Maysin, ah!” Charlie beamed with a smile, “You look very nice.” The solid blue was very striking atop her black-and-white striped hide. “Yes, milord Charlie, but why such a formal costume?” She asked deferentially, her hooves chuffing quietly on the neatly trimmed grass of the livery courtyard. With a moue Charlie’s ears backed, briefly. “Because of my – ahh – behavior yesterday I am not going to be on the list today, though my sire’s use of magic disqualified him and I did advance. So I will not need you as a mount today.” A shadow emerging from the same door Myasin had made Charlie’s gaze shift briefly, but only long enough to see Bryn’s regally garbed form approaching with Argamont’s taller frame beside him, dressed with finery the equal of Maysin’s. “Ahh, Charlie!” Bryn hailed with a wave, increasing his pace for a few strides. Argamon’s ears twitched forward and Charlie saw his gaze sweep Maysin up and down for a moment, the tall stallion servitor smiling admiringly. “I see we are of like mind.” The young duke-in-waiting taking Maysin in with a smile and short bow. “Indeed, Bryn.” Charlie chuckled, “Maysin, as I will not be contesting on the List I will, perforce, be attending my father and the Duke in the royal box. I would have you attend me, please, if I may ask that of you.” “Not Hogue?” Maysin backed one ear timorously. She had served Charlie many times in the company of Metamor’s royals and was accepted by the entirety of the family with pleasure. “I have released him for the day to attend the festivities on his own whim.” Charlie tipped his head slightly and looked up at the monochromatic striped mare’s concerned expression, “And I would do the same, if you desire to enjoy the day for yourself.” She shook her head slowly, “No, I would be honored to be of service.” After a moment the corners of her expressive equine lips twitched up in a brief smile, “And the food will be much better than what most of the vendors have.” Charlie bobbed his head with a smile, “True, true!” He agreed, then straightened his back and squared his shoulders, turning to face her more directly with a serious mien upon his muzzle. “But first I would do something, with Bryn and Argamont to witness.” Clearing his throat Charlie slipped nimble fingers into the sleeve of his doublet. “Maysin, I am sorry.” Her head titled and her eyes widened, as if expecting his statement to be the opening line of a dismissal or other unpleasant news. “Sorry, milord?” She quavered, hands dropping to her side in a pose of formal attentiveness. “Yes, Maysin, I am sorry. For my behavior yesterday, in disrespecting and dishonoring you, who have of your own will and desire have comported yourself to be my steed.” Charlie carried on diligently. Bryn’s ears came up and he shifted, quite subtly, to an aristocratic pose of attention to an important moment. “I acted in ill grace toward my sire on the field of arms, and I left you – who leave yourself vulnerable and exposed without garb in a manner many would find ill suited to their pride and intelligence – standing tacked and barded in the summer sun as any other might abandon a mere horse.” With a shake of his head Charlie stepped closer to her, until they were barely a handspan apart and he had to raise his head markedly to keep eye contact. “I am in your debt. I am always in your debt, for the service you offered, and offer, to myself and my House.” Raising his hand, and stretching the seams of his surcoat to their limit, he reached up to lightly capture one of her tall, striped ears. Delicately he removed one of the decorative jeweled studs, which was mere costume jewelry worth a few silvers but was still fetching against her flesh and pelt. Palming it he slipped a larger, heavier, and far more ornate stud into the empty piercing before stepping back. The stone was a deep green, oval cut emerald enwrapped in a web of gold as fine as a spider’s web. Alone it cost more than her entire wardrobe and a goodly portion of her wages. “If, at any time, for any reason you require aid of me, day or night, in any way present that stone to any of our House and I will come to your aid and service without question.” Maysin’s hand went to her ear the moment he turned loose of it. Thought she had only caught a momentary glimpse of the stone she could feel its weight in her ear and with the pads of her thick fingers. “Charlie, this is far too much!” She gasped in surprise. “You did not wrong me, at all, yesterday! That is my serv-“ Charlie held up a finger and lightly touched her lips, “Maysin, it is not the value of that token, it is the token itself. It is the mark of a promise made.” He paused and smiled, then chuckled softly, “I could have offered as much with a bit of copper or pin, and it would carry the same value. That more suits you, I think.” “I agree.” Bryn coughed modestly to one side, “And, in so saying, House Hassan will know of that token and bear its value accordingly, Maysin. I bear witness to the promise made.” Stepping around the stunned zebra Bryn stood beside Charlie to face her and rested a heavy hand upon the young rat’s shoulder, “And yes, lass, this churl did you a disservice yesterday. What you, Argamont, and every one of those who have come into the services of our Houses in the manner you do is beyond any service ever expected of a houses’ servitors in history. Though we don’t say it often enough, you honor us with that service.” He nodded toward Argamont who had moved forward to stand at Maysin’s side. “Leaving you caparisoned, for all intents and purposes naked, upon the tourney field like a mere horse was poor observation of that honor.” Maysin’s ears backed and her muzzle dropped in profound consternation, only to come back up suddenly when Argamont slipped a strong arm around her waist. She looked to Bryn’s sometime steed and back to the two nobles and attempted a smile. “Thank you, milord.” She managed to whisper after a few moments, her ears still backed. “No, Maysin.” Charlie shook his head and reached out to chuck her lightly under the chin with a curled finger. “Thank you. I hardly say it often enough.” His gaze twitched slightly to one side, “And you, Argamont, though you are not in my service.” “That is understood, your grace.” Argamont intoned with deep bow, his arm still around the stunned zebra’s waist. “By both of us, though she is sorely shocked by your formal acceptance of a debt. Most afford those who serve them no debts of honor. You are a fine lord, and will be a fine Duke one day.” “Not before me!” Bryn cut the formality with a laugh, clapping Charlie’s shoulder with a thick-fingered hand. “Now, let’s quit gawping here and get to my father’s box before the Dawn Wine is gone!” Charlie lifted his arm as high as it would go and patted Bryn on the back. “Save me some, Bryn; I have one more errand to run ere I reach the High Box.” Maysin looked awkwardly at both Argamont, who did not seem interested in letting go of her waist, and Charlie, whose expensive gift weighed on her mind more than her ear. Argamont acknowledged the noble rat's announcement with a mere flick of his ear, his eyes still on the zebra mare. Bryn regarded his friend with raised ears and wide eyes, “Oh? Another soul to whom you must make amends?” He nodded with a sigh. “Yes. My mother, the Baroness.” “Oh ho!” Bryn replied with a snort, crossing his arms and favoring the rat with a haughty stare down the length of his nose. “And what have you to say to your brother-in-arms whom you abandoned to the matrimonial machinations of his own mother?” Argamont whinnied in amusement while Charlie stared incredulous at the ducal heir. “I fear I do not understand your meaning. I cannot believe that your family would have agreed to a betrothal so soon, and certainly not the foreign king!” “Nay, they have not agreed to a betrothal, but without your companionship to accompany me, I had no choice but to remain in company with my family and with the foreigners.” Bryn's dark ears lowered and he exuded an air of affected offense and shame. “I had no choice but to spend time with her!” “He even danced with her,” Argamont put in with a delighted snort. Maysin frowned at him and finally managed to slip herself out from the stallion's grasp. The strawberry roan favored the zebra with a brief glance of genuine affection, before the ribald glint returned to his dark eyes. “Quite a lovely couple our young lord and lady made.” Charlie blinked and held back the laugh he felt. “You danced with the princess?” Bryn nodded, his affected air of offended dignity comical in its exuberance. “We entertained our guests privately after last night's festivities. Music was playing and all of us were told to dance. My mother ensured that the princess and I would be paired together as often as possible.” His whiskers twitched with mischief. “Did you trod one of your hooves on delicate royal toes?” “Do not be foolish!” His ears lifted for a moment as if only now considering the tactic for the first time. “Mother would skewer me!” Charlie finally laughed and shook his head. “Do not fear this princess, Bryn. She's just as nervous about you as you are of her.” “Probably more nervous about how much a horse our young lord is!” Argamont offered with a nickering laugh. Maysin jabbed him in the side, a disapproving scowl stretching her supple lips. Bryn's ears backed in genuine embarrassment and his eyes narrowed toward the man who served as his mount. Charlie caught the glance and waved his hands in the air as high as he could reach and laughed one more time. “Enough! Enough! I offer you, Thomas Bryn Hassan, my humblest apologies for abandoning you to your mother's matrimonial mischief. I promise you that I shall keep you company to ameliorate any such attempts at amorous arrangements by your as... assertive mother.” Bryn flicked up his long ears and then flipped them back down. “Well! Good!” He snorted and then held back his own laugh no more. A hearty bray interjected his mirth and he gripped Charlie by the shoulder and gave him a brief shake. “Now let's go. It's a long walk and the roads are going to be filled before the hour is out.” Charlie felt a measure of relief and warmth in his heart. He had shamed himself on the tourney field and yet his friends still stood with him. Together the four of them made their way from the Keep, through the gates, and through Keeptowne shadowed by the quartet of Watch members. Though it was still early in the morning, it was festival time and so the streets were thrumming with vendors from all over the valley and Keepers eager for the final day. Like Charlie, Bryn had eaten already and so they did not linger at any of the vendors though they did glance at many, inspiring hope in the heart of many at the sight of their wealth only to be disappointed when they continued on their way without reaching for their money pouches. When they reached the festival grounds the relaxed mood Charlie felt in the company of his friends evaporated. The easy laughter he shared with Bryn was replaced by a sullen reserve. He fidgeted as they walked toward the pavilions and the High Box, hesitating to break away. Bryn, as always, noted his discomfiture and finally, after they had walked the long way around the Sutt pavilion, grabbed him on the shoulder and gestured with his other arm at another pavilion flying a pinion bearing a rat. “You have something to do, don't you, Charlie?” He took a deep breath, his whiskers and tail drooping. “Yes, I do. Thank you, Bryn. I will join you when I can.” Bryn smiled and offered him a chuckle. “Take what time you need. I doubt even my mother can get me married before midday.” Maysin followed him as he made his way through the pavilions towards the heraldry of his birth family. The Sutt and Hassan pavilions stood near the rear of the High Box and were the largest by far, but the Matthias pavilion, set off in a ring of pavilions for minor nobility, was nearly their equal. It's size was not a reflection of their prominence but only their fecundity. Even their youngest children were now old enough to come to Metamor for the festival, and so with over twenty Matthias of varying ages in attendance along with nearly as many servants and guards there to protect the children they needed a large space in which to congregate. Two soldiers in the green livery of the Matthias clan stood outside the pavilion and nodded to Charlie and Maysin as they approached. The same rat-head crest that he had viciously assaulted on his sire's shield adorned their chest. He recognized both the dog and the human from his visits to the Narrows, but their names were a mystery to him. Charlie nodded to them and folded his hands at his waist. “Is the Baroness here? I would like to pay her an audience.” The dog nodded again. “Milady is here and expecting you, Milord.” Charlie twitched his whiskers, remembering what his mother had said over breakfast. “Thank you.” He turned to Maysin and offered the zebra a smile. “I think I should see her myself.” Maysin nodded and gave him a confidant mile. “I will wait here for you, Charlie.” Charlie stepped inside and was surprised by how quiet and empty it was. Tables were arranged in the center of the tent holding fresh basins of water for washing muddy paws and covered platters of fresh fruit, breads, and cheese to sate hungry bellies. A few servants milled about preparing for the day, but he saw no rats. There were a few private inner rooms, and out of one of them a familiar opossum emerged. “Lord Charlie? Your mother is waiting inside.” Charlie took a deep breath and turned toward the opossum who stepped out between the folds of the inner chamber to let him through. “Thank you, Baerle,” he said with an inclined snout as he stepped past. The warm radiance of a witchlight glowed within. He put one hand on the soft linen doorway and slipped through. The cloth trailed down his tail as he blinked in the light. The inner chamber was arranged as a small sitting room with a single mirror to help the lady of the house properly correct her adornments after enjoying then hustle and bustle of the festival. There were two cushioned chairs and a small trunk tucked beneath the mirror and table against which rested a fresh willow branch all lit by a trio of witchlights circling above. Sitting in the chair farthest from the entrance was his mother, Baroness Kimberly Matthias. She bore an azure gown with frills along her arms and neck. The amethyst lined stone rested against her bodice. Her dark eyes fixed on him and her voice, soft and controlled, met him, “Come in and sit down, Charlie, my son.” He opened his muzzle to speak but could not move his tongue. Dumbly, he sat down, long tail sliding into hole in the back and pooling on the cloth covered ground beneath them. His hands gripped his knees and he did he best to keep his claws from digging into the luxurious fabric. “I... I'm sorry, mother.” His mother's eyes were so intent, her snout still though not quite able to hide a faint tremble, that Charlie lowered his until he stared into her lap. Her hands were wrapped tightly about one another so that her knuckles were white. Those hands had tended and cared for him when he'd been weakest and more innocent. He felt shame anew for turning their gentleness to wrath. “I am sorry. I shamed myself and I shamed my sire.” “Father.” Her voice was so clipped it made him blink open his eyes. “What?” The Baroness narrowed hers. “He is your father and you will call him so. Do not use whatever term you've devised to hide that behind your adoption by Archduke Sutt. Not to your own mother.” He tensed, feeling as sharply upbraided by the reprimand as if he'd been struck on the backside by the willow branch at her side. “I am sorry I shamed my father. I am sorry... I am sorry I hurt him and you and all our family.” Charlie could see the tourney field in his mind, kicked up with dust and smelling of the sweat of hundreds of Keepers who'd been there and bled before him. Before him cowered his father, hiding behind a battered shield, his voice filled with uncertainty, fear, and worry; not worry for his own life, but for Charlie himself. He had prided himself on recognizing mood from only the timbre of a speaker's voice and yet he had failed to hear it when it mattered most. The Matthias clan – his family – had been watching from opposite the High Box. What must they have felt that in that moment? His younger brother and sisters, all of whom looked up to him, were either confused or filled with shock at how violently he had struck at their father. Erick, his litter-mate who was dear to him in a way he could never express, must have stumbled in denial, unwilling to admit that his brother would do so contemptuous a thing. And his mother Baroness Kimberly Matthias, must truly have been livid, struck to the heart as deeply as the band struck the Baron in the chest. “I'm so sorry...” Charlie trembled and bent forward, his snout falling into upturned hands. Another pair of hands caught his shoulders, these tender and firm. He blinked and look up in time to see his mother wrap her arms about his shoulder sand pull him tight to her chest. Tears dripped down her cheeks as she rumpled her dress and his own with her embrace. Tentatively, Charlie slipped his arms around her back and held close. His reserve lasted only seconds before his grip pulled taut and he shuddered, feeling very much a child again needing the comfort of his mother. Despite being a head taller than his mother, it was her chin that rested between his ears, and her whiskers that brushed across their tender pink flesh. He could smell not only the bath salts she scrubbed her fur with the previous day but the remnant of the coffee she had drunk that morning to help rouse herself as early as the Sutt household. Between them the strong and familiar scent of rats filled his nostrils, not just his mother's unique texture, but that of his many brothers and sisters, but especially the brittle coolness of his father's musk a blend that always carried a touch of stone amongst the fur. Charlie made no move to let go, even when the stone medallion about her neck dug into his chin. He had never had anything but love in his heart for his mother and he would not change that now. Against her chest he murmured, “I love you, mother. I'm sorry.” “I love you too, Charlie,” she replied as her arms squeezed him tight one more time before letting go. She shifted back into her seat. He twitched his now freed whiskers back into place and sat up a bit. He smiled at the corners of his snout at those words. With firmer voice she continued, “We all love you, Charlie. Your brothers and sisters adore you! I love you with all my heart; not a day goes by that I do not think of you and wish you were at my side. And your father loves you; he may not say it, but I know he too thinks of you always.” He took a long deep breath, fighting to regain his reserve lest he become as emotional as a woman. “I know. I know it and I'm sorry I forgot.” Charlie closed his eyes and found waiting for him the vision from his sire's dreams. He ground his molars together and by instinct reached for his chewstick. But he stilled the motion and forced his eyes open once more. “But I saw things, mother, I saw things that made me question that love. Father has... been trying to explain them to me.” “Is that why he came to our chambers so late?” “Aye. I fear I kept him up telling me the story e'en to the midnight hour.” A brief snort almost seemed to brighten her demeanor. “How like him.” Curious, he narrowed his eyes. “He said nothing to you?” “No. He tossed and turned in his sleep and did not finally find rest until shortly before I rose. Our servants are rousing him now so he can put in a good appearance and quiet the rumors. I expect you to greet him where you both can be seen.” “As does my...” he stumbled and then continued, “my mother. And father.” “Charlie,” Kimberly said, stretching out one hand to grasp his own. “Your father did not need to tell me anything for me to know in my heart what hurts you so. I may not have raised you, but you are still flesh of my flesh, you are still my son.” He nodded and sighed. “I hurt because I'm not a Matthias. And there's more to it than just the powers I share...” She tightened her grip on his hand. “He is telling you about Marzac isn't he?” His whiskers flicked upward with his eyes. “He's told you the tale?” Her snout tightened and she shook her head. Her voice was hushed, and her free hand lifted to her chest to rest upon the purple stone resting there. “No. Not his part. But I know it haunts him more than anything else. He has never truly slept well since those days. Most nights he manages well enough but there are others.... Do not tell him I told you this, but I have seen him whimper in his sleep like a common dog.” Charlie felt shame fill him again. “I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't know.” “Very few do, Charlie. And what he is telling you now he has spoken to few if any before. I have never heard all of it.” “But you knew,” he said with a sigh. “You knew something was wrong.” She nodded and patted his hand, offering him a faint smile. “I did. I could not put it into words but I knew. But it took another to make me see it for what it was.” His eyes narrowed, curiosity blossoming anew in his heart. “Another? Who? What happened?” Her smile did not waver, but there was a timorous note to her voice. “I am not the storyteller your father is, but I'll tell you what happened. It was only a few days after your father returned from Lake Barnhardt to help Jessica...” ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>