<html> <body> Metamor Keep: Divine Travails of Rats by Charles Matthias and Ryx Pars V: Ascensum (g) Wednesday, June 23, 724 CR - Morning Thomas waved his arms once more to gather everyone's attention. “In a single mark of the candle a banquet shall be hosted here for all to enjoy. The Peoples of Mountain and Steppe will treat us to the food of their land, so call come, partake, enjoy! As we eat we invite you to admire the skills of flight by your fellow Keepers gifted with wings as they fly overhead. Then, in two candlemarks the Mages of Metamor have promised us a closing ceremony never before seen beyond the distant kingdoms of the South!” Even before the proclamation had been completed an army of laborers moved onto the field, fast on the heels of those who had just groomed it back into shape after the recent scuffles. Tables were marched in upon strong shoulders, quickly filling the entire field. The final banquet of the summer festival was a riotous affair, with thousands wandering through the tournament field pacing the briefly immaculate earth flat and kicking up a clinging pall of dust that no one paid any heed to. Charlie joined the Matthias family and retainers as they made their way into the milling throng, commoner and noble rubbing shoulders freely with only the most minor reflexive spacing between stations. Eventually they joined the Royal assembly, which enjoyed a measure of uncrowded space provided by a cordon of relaxed, but alert, men-at-arms. Despite being uniformed, armed, and strategically placed to provide that space the guards, too, enjoyed the banquet as freely as anyone. Ales and wines were provided in abundance, but so too were less intoxicating libations such as juices, teas, mile, and water. Charlie partook of the juice fortified with small quantities of wine, but not enough to cause his wits to dull. King Pelaeth managed to harangue Baron Matthias into a lengthy re-telling of his southern journey insofar as it dealt with the Rheh, the foreigner's retinue surrounding the rat and human seated in comfortable chairs at one side of the tournament field. Charlie stood among the listeners, sipping his juice, while Bryn sat beside the visiting princess sharing small fruit and the occasional meat pastries provided by the Keep chefs. While their ears inclined to listen to Charles weave his tale of the legendary, magnificent horses of the Åelfwood, their eyes marveled at the agility, speed, and variety of avian Keepers coursing, diving, gliding, and cavorting in the sky. Charlie spotted a flock of hawks all diving in formation and picked the Justicar's eldest son only as they turned out of the dive, swooping with an audible rush of air only a dozen feet above the tournament field. The story paused for a moment so that all watching could applaud such skill. A moment's breath and Charles resumed the story. “That will never heal, you know,” A level voice muttered at Charlie's side, distracting his attention away from a length description of the Rheh's beautiful, and astonishingly swift gait. Turning his head Charlie found his brother and littermate, the rat knight Sir Erick, at his side. His brother held a mazer in one hand and was idly swirling the dark fluid within while his gaze was cast toward Charles. “Pardon, brother?” Erick shot him a sidelong glance, his ire writ stark in the hard stare of his dark rodent eyes. “The injury you left him with, Lord Sutt.” Charlie's whiskers backed against his muzzle and his ears twitched, one brow lifting at the unusual use of his title. “He tries not to let us know, but we see it. The small cuts and scrapes he earns helping the workers show what he was left with; the stone curse. Under the fur, small scars not of flesh, but rock.” Erick waved his mazer toward his father with a jerk of his muzzle. “And now you've left a lash across his breast that will forever be stone.” “Something I would undo if I could, brother,” Charlie sighed with a frown. “Why, then, did you assail him so?” Erick's voice was an angry hiss, the rat's hard gaze turned fully upon his brother. “What pique brought that about? Or does that father of yours grant you the freedom to trammel upon whomever you please?” Charlie snorted. “Hardly, Erick. He, and my mother, upbraided me rather soundly for my deplorable behavior.” All Erick did was snort derisively. “Oh, to have a spoiled brat sullying the house Honor, forsooth!” “Honor?” Charlie chuffed incredulously. “That was never brought into their ire, Erick. Yes, I did act dishonorably, and for that I chastise myself. Their anger was in that I had injured my father, had it been done without witnesses or here on this field matters not. Truly, had it been any other who I faced and acted as I had they would have been as equally affronted by it – by my behavior, for that is not how they raised me.” “You're still a spoiled snot, milord. You're angry at Father for – what, then? How has he wronged you that he deserved to be humiliated before the eyes of the entire bleeding kingdom?” Charlie turned a scowl on his brother, looking down his muzzle from his slightly greater height. “How? Erick, he sold me away!” The young rat snapped, coming to Erick's level of ire. “Took me from my mother, my family; you, my own brother!” His hand waved toward Charles in his chair, beside which Kimberly sat in another chair, her fingers resting upon their father's arm. Their litter-sister, Baerle, stood behind Kimberly's chair, her chin resting upon her arms crossed atop the tall back of the chair, a smile upon her muzzle lifting her whiskers while she listened to Charles' tale. “For a ghost, Erick. A ghost!” Erick scoffed. “Sold you? For what end? We have no alliance with House Sutt! Your father patrons that mage Murikeer's manor, but offers nothing to the family that gave him a son. Any you? Angry? What gives you the right!” The rat's voice was a low-pitched growl that did not carry to the keen ears of their respective families. “You live in a castle; I lived in a tree for my first decade! You get your fancy clothes and more servants than you can name, and what have we? One or two presentable wardrobes and no servants at all for most of my life.” Erick swept his hand out again with an angry jerk. “Even now you retain more staff, for yourself, than our entire House has between us! I've never traveled beyond this valley and yet you've seen half the world in your travels. What have you to be angry of?” One of Charlie's brows crept up as Erick's diatribe gained vehemence, the raw pain and anger in his voice taking the young rat aback. “I'd give it up to have my brother, my sisters, and the parents of my blood, Erick. That is your legacy, your privilege, which I will never have. You have not seen how it pains me each time I walk into your House? Or even the humble tree we were both born in? I love that tree and missed it for years!” He finished off his wine-fortified juice and clutched the empty mazer, gazing into it for a moment. “Had I never learned that I was a bartering chip between a man and a god I would have lived with that pain, silently, until the end of my days.” “But?” Erick snarled with a glare. “How could you be a chit in such games?” “Because... ahh, Erick, would that I could tell you but it is a tale days in the telling and even I have not heard the fullness of it. Suffice to say, I was blessed – nay, perhaps simply cursed – with a rare talent that would have driven me mad ere my fifth year had I not been adopted by Malger.” “And how, then, does that dark goddess of yours...” Erick asked flatly, his eyes flicking up and past Charlie's shoulder after a moment. Charlie turned, following his brother's glance, to see Maysin standing a short distance away, her ears erect and eyes curious. Seeing that she had captured their attention she held out a hand and Charlie quickly handed her his empty mazer. Taking it in her hand she transferred it to her empty hand and then reached out, this time toward Erick. “I assume you wish to have more drink to fight back the dust, milords, and wet your throats before you growl yourselves dry?” Her dark equine eyes shifted from rat to rat, her hand steady, until Erick relented and surrendered his mazer. “If you wish to come to blows, I can ask the Duke's staff to clear the tourney field.” After a long moment Erick shook his head and looked down, chagrined that their argument had caught someone else's attention. “Nay, t'is merely a disagreement between brothers.” Maysin's merry bray cut into the tension between them like a boulder down a mountainside. “Betwixt I and my younger brother, such often did come to blows, until he came into his adult muscle and trounced me a time or three.” Saluting with the mazers she withdrew. “So?” Erick prompted again, drawing Charlie out of the press surrounding the nobles and their stories of past valor. “How is it your tail is only now twisted into a knot about your adoption?” The two of them relaxed against the railing near one of the competitor's pavilions at the end of the field where the press was not quite so tight. “Because – I learned something, unexpectedly. It made me feel that Father did not... did not value me, as a son, when I was a Matthias.” He sighed and shrugged, watching the Keep staff trying to keep pace with the ravenous appetites of the throng swirling through the tournament field and tables like a spring cataract through a too-narrow stream. Many of the birds had landed amongst the throng to take their refreshment now that their flight was finished only further swelling the tide. Erick scoffed. “What, you think he just tossed you out with the bathwater, then? I know, somewhat, what it is you can do, but I cannot see how it put you between Father and that crone of yours.” “She is not a 'crone'!” Charlie snapped in a moment of heat, glaring at his brother. “Get your nose out of that dusty book and look around, she and the rest of the Pantheon are a damn sight more real than your strung-up martyr. Have you spoken with Him?” Erick held up a staying hand. “Peace, brother. Nay, you know well that I have not. None have, even his Holiness who stands closest to Him.” Leaning closer, Charlie raised a hand to poke Erick, not lightly, in the center of his breast. “Well, brother, I have spoken with Her, and do so rather often. I have dealt with the taint of the Daedra in Her realm, and the careless leavings of the Aedra who care not that She maintains the balance between them. So cease with your vitriol, simply because I do not – I can not – bear that tree of yours around my neck.” He dropped his hand and paced away to lean his elbows on the top rail of the fence. “And, rest assured, She is as piqued at me right now as you are. The only one, it seems, who has forgiven my childish ire is Father. You would do well to follow his wisdom, as you grow into your House.” “Would that I have those years to grow, brother, before someone leaves my father more stone than he is now.” With a last gimlet stare Erick turned and walked through the open tourney gate, disappearing into the festival crowds in ten paces. Charlie blinked after he vanished and stretched forth one arm after his brother. “Erick, no, wait. I...” But his brother was gone. Charlie grimaced and lowered his head until his forehead rested against the top rail. “I am sorry I grew angry with you. I am sorry I spoke ill of Yahshua.” He grunted and bumped his forehead into the rail a few times as if he could jar loose all the tension. Over the years he and his brother had shared a few words of disagreement over matters of faith just as he had with Bryn. But where Bryn and he had come to an understanding and only teased each other lightly from time to time, he and Erick had never had the time to truly understand how each other felt. And, in truth, if not for his gift – his curse – he would have remained a Matthias and remained amongst the Patildor in such matters. “I am such a fool,” Charlie muttered to himself and hit the railing with his fist. “Charlie? Are you well?” A familiar and gentle voice asked. The young rat stood and turned, breathing a long sigh. “Hello, Bernadette. I am well enough if an idiot.” His sister and litter-mate chuckled lightly. Her light-tan fur seemed to glow in the afternoon sun, and the white fur beneath her chin was crisp and clean, colored by a pink tourmaline in a simple brooch. Her soft lavender dress was presentable, as Erick had said, but simple and with fewer frills than Charlie's raiment. Still, he smiled to his sister and said, “You look lovely in that dress, sister. Your betrothed, Godfrey, is a very fortunate groundhog.” Her whiskers backed in a pleased rodent smile, and her hands clasped at her waist where a simple ribbon had been tied into a bow above her skirt. “Thank you. You know he loves you. All he ever wanted was to be with his brother.” “Erick?” She nodded, stepping closer to him until she could lift one hand to touch his arm. His whiskers drooped and a long sigh escaped his throat. “I love him too. I wish we had more time together. But... that's not how things are. There are... things between us.” “You mean Her,” Bernadette noted, her soft eyes meeting his. “That mostly, but now there is Father. And you, sister? Have you anything you wish to say to me on that score?” “Nay,” she patted his arm and then gripped it so that he felt her claws through his sleeves. “I would forgive you even if Father did not. But Charlie, please do not be a stranger to your own family. I know it is harder for you than it is for the rest of us, but...” She loosened her grip and lowered her eyes. “But we still miss you.” Charlie grimaced and nodded. “I haven't felt like I belonged there for some time now. I can remember feeling at home with you and Erick and Baerle at every visit when I was younger. But now...” He shook his head and slumped his shoulders, his tail thumping the dust at their feet. “Will you tell Erick I am sorry for what I said.” “I will. His anger never lasts long.” She patted his arm one last time. “Will you be all right?” He offered his sister a small smile, lifting his whiskers an inch. “I will. I'm beginning to see and understand things better now. And,” he lifted his arms and grasped her shoulders, “I cannot promise I will visit as often as we both would like, but I will visit more. And I will attend your wedding as your brother and not as a visitor. I'll even wear the Matthias colors because that is who we are in our blood.” His sister's smile stretched her entire snout and into her cheeks. She dove into his chest and wrapped her arms tight about his back. “Oh, Charlie! Thank you! It wouldn't have been the same without you there.” For the first time that day he felt a sense of peace fill him as he returned that embrace. All he could do was murmur into her round ear. “Thank you, Bernadette. Thank you.” ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>