March 25, 708 CR
Charles and his family began the day with a trip to the baths. Heated baths were not so easy to come by in Glen Avery as most folks just took their dip in the lake, but he was not going to let this last opportunity slip by him. And judging by the look on Lady Kimberly's snout when he suggested it that morning, he knew he'd made up for his occasional gawking at the suggestively dressed Magyars.
Of his children, only little Baerle seemed frightened of the water still. While the rest splashed in one of the shallow wading pools, their youngest daughter curled up in the farthest corner she could find, tail tucked up to her nose. Kimberly tried to coax her out of the corner with sweet words, but their little girl just shook her head. Charles tried to pick her up but she squeaked defiantly every time he got close. Eventually he just picked her up anyway, held her at arms length while she squirmed like a snake, and then dunked her in the pool while Kimberly rubbed the cleaning salts through the back of her fur. She spent the entire time squeaking or coughing when water got down her throat.
Of course, once she was clean, she joined her brothers and sister in frolicking as if the baths were the most amazing place in all the world. Exasperated parents just looked at each other and then turned to their own cleaning needs while keeping an eye on their children.
They were not alone in the baths. The hot, humid air was so thick that it overwhelmed all but the strongest of musk, but none of the patrons that day smelled so potently as to be noticeable. The baths were always popular, but more so on a day just after a heavy rain. Of the many others who came into the baths, he only recognized a few, but one in particular caught his eye. There was no mistaking the hulking green-scaled, red-robed form of the Steward of Metamor, Thalberg himself. But Charles had never seen the other alligator, this one clearly a woman by her dress, that accompanied him. Nor had he ever heard the Steward speak as gently as he heard him speak to the other alligator.
"That's Miriam," Kimberly told him when he asked. "She's one of the refugees from Bradanes. Bernadette says Thalberg has been spending a lot of time with her lately."
"No I didun," their elder daughter piped up from behind them.
Kimberly laughed and wrapped one arm around little Bernadette's shoulder. "Oh, I wasn't talking about you my little treasure."
The two alligators moved off into the deep end of the pool where they were completely obscured by the steam rising from the water's surface, and despite spending nearly another quarter of an hour there making sure that all of his children were clean, and then another fifteen minutes drying themselves, he never saw a single green scale emerge from that cloud again.
They returned to the Long Hall and their quarters within in order both to pack all of their things for the trip back to the Glen, and also to attire themselves properly for Liturgy. As the first Sunday Liturgy after the quarantine was lifted, the entire cathedral was filled from altar rail to vestibule. Despite this, they were able to find a place to stand and kneel without any difficultly thanks to their small stature. Not so the strange three-horned dragon-like Keeper that ended up standing in an alcove and poking his large head out around the corner, or several of the other Keepers that had been cursed with large bodies.
Father Hough was assisted at the altar by all six of his seminarians and he spared no element of the ceremony, filling the air with incense, and echoing it with bells. Though it was still the season of Penance, Father gave a homily full of optimism and counsel to remember that there would be good times and there would be bad. His words were eloquent and impassioned and all of Charles's children were rapt and did not fidget, at least until they had to kneel during the Eucharistic prayers.
But when the Liturgy finally came to a close, Charles and his family gathered their things, said one final farewell to Misha, Caroline, and the other Longs, before heading out to the second gate where Julian waited with one of his sleigh-carriages. Garigan was already there, as were Murikeer and Kozaithy. By the time they had finished putting all of their things inside the wagon, Sir Saulius arrived riding Armivest and leading Malicon behind him. Charles thanked all of his friends, mounted his pony, and together they set off from Metamor.
The day was moderately warm, with wind from the south blowing briskly and carrying distant scents of sea and Spring. The sky was still cloudy, but it began to break up after an hour into their ride and once past Tarrelton on the northwestern road that lead to the Glen. Charles and Saulius flanked the wagon and spent their time chatting idly with their friends, and watching the children play in the middle of the wagon. His eldest boy Charles had found some leftover hay from a previous trip and had stuck it in his headfur like a laurel crown and was trying to portray an imagined King Pelain who had slain all of Cheskych's enemies and now ruled a city ready to go fight some more enemies. Little Erick once again though he should be Pelain and the two were squabbling good-naturedly. It eventually deteriorated into wrestling and scampering about while their sisters played with the little dolls that Kimberly had fashioned for them.
His ears perked when he heard his student grump and rattle his claws against the side of the wagon, "I don't know how you suffered it, Master Murikeer, so long in such distasteful company. I could not have traveled for so long with such a disreputable fellow as that Dream Serpent, Malger, Moranasi, Archduke of Sluthouse, or whatever it is he is." Charles encouraged Malicon to trot a couple of extra steps ahead to bring him in line to where Murikeer and Garigan were speaking. The ferret's black-masked face was twisted into a rictus of disgust. "Not without doing him harm."
Murikeer hissed angrily at the ferret and narrowed his one good eye. "You know him not at all, lad. You should hold your disparaging tongue until you understand about whom you talk. He is not only reputable, and honorable, but he is a fast friend of mine." The irritated skunk's tail lashed behind him as he glowered at the ferret, both in anger and in confusion at the unexpected turn in their conversation, caught off guard by the swift spark of vitriol.
"A friend?" Garigan chuffed with a shake of his head. "You claim the master of a guild whose sole charter is to bed any and everything it can as a friend? I have been accosted by his Sensates several times since I came to Metamor. Any many who would sponsor such... filth..."
"Garigan, please," Charles said with a long-suffering sigh. Even with all of his training Garigan's irritable temper took heat all too swiftly. "Find your Calm, Garigan. Murikeer himself was also so accosted if I am not mistaken. If he could journey with Malger, a tale I've only heard portions of, then there must be many depths to the new Archduke of Sutthaivasse. He helped save the lives of myself and my friends when we were trapped at Marzac. I will not have you speak so ill of him either."
Garigan blinked in surprise, not having realized the depths of his growing fury. His gaze shifted from his master to the skunk glaring at him and then back in surprise. He bit back a fiery retort and focused inward, the rictus of anger slowly melting away from his features. He bent over double in a way that only a ferret or their kind could, and let out a heavy sigh. "Forgive my foul words, Murikeer. I have never met Lord Sutt, but my ears have been filled with many words, seldom positive, and my experience with only those worrisome trollops of his guild. I should never have spoken evil of a man I do not know."
"Very rightly," Murikeer agreed, his hackles still raised. "At your age you should know better than to speak with the blind foolishness of a child." Flicking his tail the skunk mage bit back his own much more slowly rising anger. "Malger is many things and has many depths and in our travels I have come to know them well." He waved one paw to take in Garigan and Charles together; "Much as you and Master Charles know one another."
Garigan flinched but did not lift his eyes. Charles reached over, tightening his grip with his legs on Malicon's back, and gently laid a paw on the ferret's shoulder. "Spend a little time in meditation, Garigan. Calm yourself, and do not hold what the Sensates did to you against Malger."
Garigan nodded, and put his paws over his face as he bent over, lowering himself into a kneeling posture, and turning away from both of them. Murikeer sighed and shook his head, turning to look at the rat. "I do think he regrets that guild, now." He sighed with a shake of his head. "Taking a motley group of passion seekers and making an actual guild of them. He gave them too much head on the reins and now their debauchery comes back to haunt them."
Charles chuckled lightly as his gaze shifted to his silent student. "Oh, aye that is so true. The follies of our youth often follow us through the years of our lives." Malicon's saddle creaked softly as he adjusted his seat. "I do not know him in aught but passing ways, according him as nothing more than a minstrel. A very skilled one. With a penchant for the bedroom." His head tilted with a twitch of ears and whiskers, "though I understand he is not concerned with whether it is lord or lady he shares the covers."
Murikeer's whiskers rose in a grimace and he bobbed his head. "That is true." Raising his chin he looked at Charles steadily with his remaining eye. "But he is not like them... the Sensates. He does not bed those who are bound to love, and not for his own selfish pleasures." Chewing the inside of his lower lip in thought he took a breath. "He has a purpose and a goal behind each and every one of his seductions, though I despaired his advances to that end. He claims that he can offer healing, and it is through congress that he achieves that end." Murikeer's shoulders rose and fell. "I did not ask for details about that in any great regard, mind you. It's all a bit much even for my worldly ways.
"He's a solid friend; as solid as a brother. He cares deeply for those close to him, and will not hesitate to avenge a loved one or to reach out a hand to help another stand, even one he does not know, or those far below his station." Murikeer brushed the tip of his tail against the silent ferret lost in his meditations. "And once I, or you, tell him of young Garigan's distaste he will tell those Sensates to leave him alone." Murikeer smiled, then blinked, then laughed softly. He dubbed Garigan `young' though he, himself, was barely six years older.
"They have never bothered me," Charles admitted as he slipped back to a firmer perch atop his steed, one paw running through the roan's mane. "I spent a bit of time with him while we were coming back from Marzac to Sutthaivasse. He went to great lengths to make sure that we would be safe and well treated." He gestured at the rat-head buckle at his waist. "It's because of him that I have this delightful ornament. But he did not speak much of himself or of his journeys. Nor how he knew you to begin with, Muri. Kayla says that you became friends very soon after you arrived at Metamor."
"We met at Glen Avery actually," Murikeer replied, the skunk's demeanor settling into a friendly calm again. "We had Llyn in common at the time." He lifted one paw to the leather patch over his ruined eye socket, and then lowered it again, casting a quick glance with his one eye at the white-furred skunk sitting next to Kimberly and chatting amiably about the children. "He loved her too, even if his heart was always meant for... another. That brought us together and helped see us through our differences. They in turn helped us survive in Sathmore; his music, my magic, and Elvmere's singing saw us through many a town and Inn on our journey.
"Elvmere?" Charles asked.
"An acolyte in the temple," Murikeer replied off-hand. "He was Malger's apprentice on our journey. He didn't approve of the Sensates either. But Malger understands and I think he is trying to restrain some of their behavior. I do wonder how that will proceed now that his noble heritage has been unmasked."
"Aye, that will be interesting, as long as it is good for Metamor." Charles's whiskers drooped in thought as some elusive snatch of memory continued to dodge his tongue. The wagon rolled over a small stone in the road, bumping everyone inside, and alone of them only Garigan didn't move. The rat noted his student's fervent contemplation, and then that memory fell beneath his claws. His pupil had called Malger a Moranasi, a derisive name accorded to those who swore allegiance to the darker half of the Lightbringer pantheon; namely Ba'al, but the other daedra as well.
"One thing I am curious about," Charles said in as amicable a voice as he could, "Magler does not seem to be interested in hiding his allegiance to Nocturna. I know you are a faithful and devout Lothanasi. I thought Moranasi the enemies of all Lothanasi."
Murikeer nodded at first, but then shook his head. "Followers of Ba'al, Lilith, Agemnos, Suspira, or Revonos are certainly evil and are our enemies, yours as well as mine, but Nocturna is not like them. She stands alone between both camps and, while accorded the least powerful, has the greatest reach into the mortal realm through our dreams. The connection he has with her is... very different; deeper and more real than I feel mine to be to Artela." He glanced forward for a moment in contemplation. "Nor, I would hazard to say, your connection with Eli. And by it, as I could hardly believe, that he uses to bring healing to other; even to me." He raised one paw at the slow drop of Charles's jaw in shock at such a challenge. "Mind you, Master Charles my friend, I do not in no mean way wish to cast a shadow upon your faith. It is by Malger's faith in Nocturna that I have come to believe – nay, to know – that Eli is a true force as your faith proclaims."
Charles blinked in surprise, seeing the sudden introspection and specter of pain fill the skunk's eye. When nothing more was said, the rat leaned in closer and asked, "What happened?"
"When Llyn died at the hands of my own student I blamed myself, though I knew that he had chosen to side with Nasoj and follow the darker pantheon. Once I had vanquished him I suffered in darkness for a time while the healers of Metamor mended my wounds." His finger touched the patch over his empty left eye socket; the one injury that they could not heal. "I wandered that darkness, lost, until I came to the precipice of oblivion. Malger found me there, and called me back."
Charles' brows furrowed in confusion. "Found you there? In your dreams?"
The furry brow above Murikeer's ruined eye lifted. "Have you not grasped my words, my friend? Malger has Nocturna's blessing. He can walk, as awake and aware as we two do now, the realm of dreams. He can look into the dreams of others. That is how he offers the gift of his healing; from within their dreams."
Charles shook his head slowly. "No, I did not. Say on." His attention settled between Malicon's ears while ke listened, deep in his own thoughts.
"I meant to walk beyond the veil of death, for Llyn was lost to me with furious words on my lips in the last instant of her life. I only wished to see her, one last time, to undo those words, but she was in Eli's hands." Murikeer's gaze dropped to his paws and the reins danging loosely from them, unnecessary. "But Malger felt my pain, and as he had been close to Llyn as well, shared it with me. He then begged a boon of his goddess, Nocturna, and she in turn brought Llyn to me."
"He made you dream about her?"
"Not dream about her. It was her, come to visit me. It was Llyn's unsullied soul, freed and stripped clean of the sins and pains of life. She came to me, and she forgave me my heated words. All the while Nocturna looked on, and a vast presence, beatific in its magnificence, just beyond that I dared not look to." His eye returned to Charles, almost transformed by the memory into something exalted. "That is why I accept your Eli, though I follow the Light. I... I do not know if I have ever said this to another, and I'm surprised I say it to you, Charles. But there it is. I don't know how, but it was what I needed in order to forgive myself and move on."
Charles's heart beat faster as he imagined the bereaved skunk having one last chance to be with the woman he'd loved and who had been cruelly snatched from him. That thought dancing back and forth in his breast, he nodded glumly and turned their conversation to more pleasant topics.
The rest of the journey to Glen Avery passed without incident. Not an hour later, Garigan put his meditations behind him and he and Murikeer engaged in friendly conversation again, while Charles and Saulius spent a bit more time watching the woods on either side for signs of bandits and Lutins. But they saw nothing other than a few hunters out catching small game, a couple of merchants from the Glen and Hareford, and Metamor soldiers keeping watch over the road.
The day was drawing to a close by the time they reached the Glen. Charles's children had grown weary of the journey and spent most of the last hour wondering if they had finally arrived, to which both mother and father assured them that they had not but that they would soon, sooner if they did not speak or squeak. This admonition worked for a few minutes at a time but no more.
They were met first by the incorrigible Marcus who was especially delighted to see Garigan again, but who also jumped into the middle of the wagon and play-wrestled with all four of the little rats at once. Angus and James followed in short order, and together they escorted Julian's wagon into the Glen commons where they were met by Lord Avery and his two boys. Charles and Kimberly both breathed sighs of relief to be in their woodland home again, while Garigan bounded out of the wagon to bow in gratitude to Lord Avery and his family. "Forgive the lateness of my return, your lordship. I was unexpectedly delayed."
Lord Avery laughed and dragged the ferret to his feet and then wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Were glad to have you back, my friend. Now none of this `lordship' either. Don't tell me the court at Metamor has corrupted you too!"
He did not wait for Garigan to answer before turning to the rest of the Metamorians climbing out of the wagon. Marcus jumped down from the lip with the two boys under his arms. They spread all of their limbs like they were flying. Kimberly rushed over and brained the pine marten on the top of his head before rescuing her children from the adventurous scout.
"Master Murikeer! Charles. It is so good to see you both again, and your families. And such a relief to see them safe." The squirrel lord clasped the skunk's paw and waved to the mounted rat, and then he bowed lightly to each of the women. "And we are honored to have you amongst us as well, Kozaithy, Lady Kimberly. We have saved some of the feasting from the Equinox festival for you, including some of Lars's Caribou." A hard stare from his wife made him temper his enthusiasm. "But that can wait. Doubtless you are all tired from your journey. Darien, Christopher! Be good strong lads and help them with their things."
"There's no need for that," Murikeer assured him with a faint laugh. "We have little enough, no need to trouble your sons."
Lord Avery looked at his two boys, both only a head shorter than he now, with long, bushy tails twitching as feverishly as hummingbirds. They both scrambled over to the wagon in their eagerness to be the first to take one of the parcels brought by the Matthias family. "Oh, it is good for them, Master Khunnas. Best they learn to serve others now while they are young than later when that is what their station demands."
Murikeer blinked and then smiled. "How very wise. Then they can take this and be the better for it." He slipped his knapsack over his shoulders into Darien's waiting paws, while keeping the heavier traveling pack on his back. The young squirrel stared with big black eyes at his prize and then wrapped it around his shoulders, the pack bouncing off his hips as he returned to the wagon to fetch something else.
"Oh," Kimberly sighed in delight as she stretched her toes into the muddy loam. "It is so good to be home." She turned to James who had picked up the lady rat's trunk and hoisted it onto his shoulders. "And where is your Baerle?"
James's lowered his ears in an obvious blush. "Cleaning your home from dust, milady. We wanted it to be ready for when you came home."
"It won't stay very clean with all this mud."
"We have a washbasin by the door to clean your feet." James smiled at the edge of his supple lips. "It doesn't seem right for you to return home to muddy paws either."
Kimberly patted the donkey on the cheek and then called to her children, who had gone scampering off around the trees as soon as they were off the wagon. Charles dismounted and laughed. Malicon nipped at his right shoulder as he passed and he patted the roan's cheek with one paw before taking the reins and guiding him past the wagon. "Thank you for coming out to meet us, milord. You didn't have to do that."
"Of course I did," Lord Avery replied with warmth as he grasped the rat's left shoulder, digging into the leather tabard with his sharp claws before letting him go. "After all that has happened, of course I did."
Charles smiled, feeling his heart lift at those words. "Now maybe we can have some peace and joy here at home too."
"I hope so," the squirrel replied, before turning to the still mounted Sir Saulius and saying, "And welcome back to you, Sir Saulius. Walter wanted me to let you know that it is ready."
"'Tis good news; thank thee milord!" He swung down from Armivest's back and lead the pony forward, pointing him toward the stables at the rear of the Matthias home. "I must tend to my steed now, but I wilt come see thee this evening to continue our discussion from earlier."
"I look forward to it, sir knight!"
Sir Saulus brought Armivest around between them and waved to Charles. "Come, squire. Let us tend to our steeds and then you can have your paws washed!"
Charles laughed, waved once to Kimberly who was hustling the children in the direction of their home, to Murikeer and Kozaithy who were trying to direct the Avery boys as to which parcels belonged to them and which to the Matthias family, and then to Julian who remained atop the wagon with a bright beam in his eyes as he watched his friends rejoice at their homecoming. Together with his knight, he led his pony to the stables, their paws squelching through the mud with each step. Yet through the air he could smell the scent tang of pine and birch, and even a hint of a fresh baked pie cooling in a nearby window. It was very good indeed to be home.
March 26, 708 CR
While his chest and jaw stilled pained him at times, it was now a faint suggestion of what had happened to him on the mount rather than an ever-present reminder of Marzac's power. And for this he was grateful as he had to keep one arm raised over his head to steady his middle boy Erick on the back of Malicon while the other gently guided the pony around the paddock area, while he constantly assured his son that he was doing fine and reminding him that he needed to keep seated with straight back and focused attention.
It had rained again that morning, and so they were all stained with mud up to their ankles, and now Charles had a generous helping smeared across his sleeves and both front and back of his tunic. When he'd tried to place little Berndatte on his pony's saddle, she had manage to slip from his grasp and wrap her legs about his neck instead. He was going to need another bath already; judging by the look and smell of the sky, if he lingered outside long enough the weather would take care of that for him.
Still, despite the muck, he was enjoying taking the time that afternoon to begin instructing his children in the art of riding horseback. Their legs would never be large enough to manage a real horse, but the ponies in the Valley were of good stock and would serve well enough as much as they were able. Already the names of Armivest and Malicon were known by most of the knights of Metamor as steeds to be respected and that brought Charles quite a bit of pride; both for his own sake and for his knight's.
"Look! I'm riding! I'm riding!" Erick squealed in delight, his tail bouncing off the back of the saddle as Charles led Malicon in a wide circle around the edge of the paddocks.
"Aye, you are," Charles replied noting that his middle son minded his lessons when it came to riding much better than he usually did.
"Ah, he takes to the saddle as if he wert of the Steppe!" Sir Saulius announced as he approached from the commons. The knight hugged the other children who rushed over to welcome him, not minding the way their muddy paws smeared across his tabard. After setting them each down, he gestured over his shoulder toward one of the trees on the other side of the commons. "Lord Avery dost wish to speak with thee, Charles. I shalt watch o'er thy children."
Charles drew Malicon to a stop and steadied his son Erick. "Where is he? At Lars's?"
"In his home."
He grunted and handed the reins to the knight. Saulius moved into place next to him, one paw steadying his namesake on the saddle. "I'd best go find out what he wants."
Sir Saulius smiled so broadly, and he stood so tall on his toes that Charles began to wonder if his knight didn't already know. Still, he allowed his friend to keep his secret for a little longer, patting each of his children on the head before heading across the commons to one of the ropes that dangled out of the branches.
His chest ached by the time he'd reached the landing at the top. This was the place he'd come the very first time he'd been to Glen Avery two years ago. The small entrance had no roof but the branches overhead, and set on either end were unlit lanterns. Along the walls on either side were narrow windows perfect for archers, and at the far end was a round door into the side of the massive redwood on whose broad branches the rat now stood.
The door was cracked, and Charles gingerly pushed it open, "Lord Avery?"
"Come in!" he heard the squirrel's voice echo from within the small chamber beyond. The Lord of the Glen sat by himself at a small table fashioned directly out of the tree. "Charles, welcome! Please sit." He gestured opposite him, and then rested his elbows on a hand-drawn map. Charles glanced at it as he closed the door behind him and settled down opposite the gray squirrel; it appeared to be of Glen Avery and the land to its north, south, east, and west.
"You wished to see me, milord?" Charles asked as hew sat, tail bunching behind him as there was not much space between the bench and the wall of the tree, warm to the touch as in his own home; the magic of the woodmage Burris at work.
"I did," Lord Avery studied him for a moment and then smiled faintly. "You have been a help to us here at the Glen ever since you first arrived two years past and sat in that very same spot. You have been away on many long adventures, but you know that everyone here considers you a Glenner as much as if you were born here."
He felt his chest swell at that, and his whiskers flicked in delight. "Thank you, milord. It is one of the nicest homes I've ever known. I look forward to raising my family here, and seeing them raise families of their own here too."
"It warms my heart to hear of it," the gray squirrel's tail danced back and forth behind his head. "You stared a trend last year; at first it was only Angela and I who had children already touched by the animal Curse. Now you both you and Jurmas have such children, and there are a few others who are expecting that my wife tells me will be as your children and mine!"
Charles smiled at the thought of the Glen filled with beastly children playing their games together. Already the few grown humans looked out of place in the Glen; could even the human children look out of place too?
"Well, I and my family have returned and we are here to stay. Much to Misha's lament I'm sure. He did wish me to speak with you about possibly providing me, as the representative of the Long Scouts here at the Glen, more opportunities to help direct affairs for the Glen Scouts. I would never take Angus or that skunk's place, but... some authority of my own. I hope I am not too forward when I say this."
Brian Avery blinked in surprise, and then leaned back with a hearty laugh, grabbing at the table with his sharp claws to keep from completely upending. "Oh, Charles! What sweet irony! No, I wouldn't want you to take either Angus or Berchem's place – although he has gone south for a few weeks, no matter. But I do want to offer you the chance to lead in a very special way here at the Glen."
"Oh?"
And then he learned what his knight already knew.
Charles headed straight home without giving Lord Avery an answer, though one was promised that evening. He saw that Sir Saulius was still at the paddocks trying to teach his children to ride. He did not pause to greet them; their attention was so focused on getting their turn to ride the pony that they never looked or sniffed his way. Unimpeded, Charles snuck down to the door between the roots, and slipped into his home, dipping his paws in the washbasin by the door and drying them off before looking for his wife.
Kimberly was in the kitchen reacquainting herself with all of its implements and scolded him in a gentle way on his muddy attire. Then she saw his serious expression and set down the pans she'd held. "What is it, Charles?"
He grasped one of her paws and drew her close. "My sweet Lady Kimberly. I know you left behind a noble's inheritance because the life your family had planned for you was so distasteful that you would rather live with the common folk as one of them. I could never accept the offer that has just been made to me without your consent, and without prayer."
She blinked and then lifted her free paw to his face and plucked a bit of dried mud from his cheek fur. "What offer is this?"
He told her. She listened. And then they both went to the little house altar Charles had built for them and knelt in prayer.
It was well into evening and Lord Avery had just come from enjoying a pleasant meal with his two sons and wife to hear the reports from his scouts at the brewery when he was stopped only a few paces from the door by a very familiar figure. The torches were lit about the commons and another pair flanked the stony entrance to Lars's very popular establishment. "Who is... oh, Charles! It is good to see you. Have you and your family had enough time to consider the offer?"
Charles, still touched by mud and smelling strongly of horse, nodded his wide head. "We have, we prayed, and without reservation both I and my family accept the honor!"
March 27, 708 CR
More rain came that night and so all morning long at Lord Avery's instruction, a long wooden platform was erected on the Glen commons. This was in two sections, with a smaller raised platform toward the western end of the commons. A long burgundy carpet was arranged down the middle of the longer lower section of the platform, while the same carpet was spread across the whole of the upper platform. Railings were erected all along the exterior of the upper platform except for where the carpet on the lower platform was adjoining. Several basins of water were set at the far end for the washing of mud from paws.
Poles were fixed into the upper platform, and stretched between them at a height twice to thrice the tallest Glenner, were the green, gold, and blue banners of the Glen, each bearing the heraldry of two tall trees in full leaf standing atop a forest floor of golden Autumn with a small lake and mountains in the background. Between these, and the centerpiece of the upper platform was position a twin throne. Either end was shaped like the redwoods that dominated the Glen, with the back set of intertwining branches. The arms were modeled on the roots that stretched outward before sinking deep within the earth and tangling together.
This throne had once sat in the Avery fort at the base of the hills overlooking the lake in the days before the Curses were laid down reshaping their bodies as well as their village. The invading army had destroyed the fort, leveling it completely to the ground in their push southward. While the women and children had retreated to Metamor, Brian's father led a force of men to harass Nasoj's army only to be cut down an hour from his home, leaving Brian and the rest of their men to try and outrace the army to Metamor to help make a stand there.
When Nasoj's army was defeated, the new Lord Avery had the throne repaired as he and the rest of his subjects adjusted to their new bodies. Brian was forced to spend much of his time at the brewery in the caves or up in the trees with the wood mage Burris who was busy using what they had to build a more hidden secure life for themselves in what was left of their home. By the time the artisans had finished repairing the throne, Lord Avery saw no need to create for himself a large throne room as he was far more comfortable just sitting around a table at the brewery to meet with his people.
And so the throne disappeared into one of the caves, kept safe for those few occasions when protocol demanded ceremony. And that morning the throne, to much excitement and awe, the Glenners beheld the throne emerging from the caves to take its place there on the platform, and in it, Lord and Lady Avery sat, their two boys dressed in their finest and standing at attention on either side. Both carried cushions in their arms, and on the first laid Lord Avery's sword, while the second held the squirrel's signet ring. Rare indeed was it to see all these symbols of Lord Avery's noble office together in the Glen commons, and everyone gathered to watch.
At midday, the ceremony began. Charles Matthias, attired in a suit of chain mail, with only his linens on underneath – he had left the vine back in his home to keep it from being pinched by the armor – stood at the far end of the lower platform, where after his paws were washed of mud, strode onto the burgundy carpet. Musicians played a stately march, with a pair of trumpeters blasting a rigorous fanfare. Charles looked straight ahead, his snout and face combed so thoroughly that not a single strand of fur was out of place. Bright torches at either side of the lower platform made the black hand-print over his right eye glisten with a fiery sheen.
To that march, Charles walked in the procession, one hand resting upon the pommel of a sword at his side. His family waited for him just off to the left and only a few feet before the railing separating the lower platform from the upper. Standing at that railing, carrying a folded bundle in his arms, was Sir Saulius beaming with pride, dressed also in his chain mail with tabard covering his chest and back, both sides proclaiming his coat of arms, a rat holding a bundle of wheat in its paws. Once that rat had been a dragon, but like so many things, the curses had brought a change to how the Steppelands knight saw his duty.
Everyone present was dressed in bright colors. Everywhere Charles's eyes glanced he saw a prismatic spray of red, blue, green, yellow, gold, silver, and hundreds of other gay hues, each of them bright and full of cheer. Charles wanted to smile to each face he knew that cheered him on, but he kept marching, maintaining his dignified pace and following the beat of the musicians. But next to the colorful panoply surrounding him, he felt almost naked in only a set of chain mail. And in a sense, he was waiting for his proper attire.
He did offer James a smile as he stepped past the donkey, who had one arm draped over Baerle's shoulders. The opossum blushed a little in her ears as their eyes briefly met. Then he smiled even wider as he stepped past his wife and his four little children all gazing up at him in awe and wonder. Kimberly's expression was one of simple, unselfish delight.
When he reached the upper platform, the musicians brought the march to a stop, and both he and Sir Saulius faced the throne together. Lord Avery remained seated in his throne, his wife at his side, paws resting on the arms of the great chair, while their tails rested against the interweaving branches. In a voice that echoed across the commons, the gray squirrel asked, "Sir Erick Saulius, has your squire mastered all of the trials of knighthood?"
Sir Saulius, used to projecting his voice on the tournament field, had no trouble making himself heard now. "My squire, Charles Matthias, hath passed all of the trials, milord."
"He has shown bravery in battle?"
"He hath!"
"He has shown loyalty to his knight and to his lord?"
"He hath!"
"Has he shown compassion to the poor and needy?"
"He hath!"
"He has shown courtesy and honor to all women?"
"He hath that and more!"
Lord Avery's smile took on a slightly odd twist as he then asked, "Has he shown faith and fidelity to the Ecclesia, and obedience to her priests?"
Sir Saulius's smile widened. "He hath!" Most of the Glen were Lothanasi, and so this little change must have been arranged by Sir Saulius, the rat knew as he listened with both pride and a bit of self-conscious modesty.
Lord Avery stretched out his arm, paw opened and inviting. "Then step forward and attire your squire as befitting a knight."
Sir Saulius and Charles took the large step up to the upper platform. There, Charles knelt down before Lord Avery, keeping his back straight, and Sir Saulius came around behind him. Over the rat's head he lowered the folded leather draping it across Charles's shoulders, before bidding him to rise so that he might secure the lacing at either side beneath his arms. The tabard came down to his knees, and was split in front and back just beneath his waist and above his tail.
The weight of the leather tabard felt good to Charles, and as he lowered his snout, he could see the coat of arms his knight had chosen for him and his heart beat faster in delight and a determination to bring honor to those colors and signs. It was divided into four sections by two black lines like window panes. The upper left was the largest and was a sandy green with an image of the yew, symbol and hue of the Ecclesia. The upper right featured the broad face of a long sword pointed upward whose quillion ended in a stylized profile of a rat's head all upon a sombre red background. The lower left was the same red and featured a wide-brimmed shield that tapered to a point at its base. And in the lower right, in white on an ebony face was an upraised hand with the palm facing outward; only this hand was more akin to a rat's paw than to the human hand of the Sondeckis heraldry.
His faith and his clan were his coat of arms, the green of the Ecclesia, the red of the Sondeckis, and the black of his rank were there for all to see.
Once the lacing was complete, Sir Saulius produced a wooden crucifix and placed it very gently into Charles's waiting paws. This he clasped before him with both paws, his eyes searching the sculpted depths of Yahshua in agony and knew that the weight of responsibility he was accepting was far greater than any suit of armor or any set of colors or heraldry.
"Come forward and kneel," Lord Avery beckoned. Charles did so, dropping to one knee before the lord of the Glen, lowering his snout, and holding the crucifix to his new tabard. Brian Avery stood from the throne and stepped forward to where Charles knelt. His two boys followed him. Brian took the signet ring from Darien's pillow and slipped its massive form onto his finger, and then kept his fingers pressed together so that it wouldn't slide unbecomingly during the ceremony. He then grasped the sword hilt and held it out so that the broad of the blade nearly rested upon Charles's head. All who watched held their breath.
"Do you, Charles Matthias, before this image of Yahshua, your lord and savior, swear to fear Eli and maintain His Ecclesia?"
"I so swear!" Charles declared as loudly as he could without aching his jaw or his chest.
"Do you swear to serve your liege lord in valor and faith?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear to protect the weak and defenseless?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear to give succor to widows and orphans?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear to refrain from wanton giving of offense?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear to live by honor and for glory?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear to despise pecuniary reward?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear to fight for the welfare of all?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear to obey those placed in authority?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear to guard the honor of fellow knights?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear to eschew unfairness, meanness and deceit?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear to keep faith?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear at all times to speak the truth?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear to preserve to the end in any enterprise begun?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear to respect the honor of women?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear never to refuse a challenge from an equal?"
"I so swear!"
"Do you swear never to turn the back upon a foe?"
"I so swear!"
If not for his years serving as Headmaster of the Writer's Guild and proclaiming the greatest of stories at festivals, his voice would have been sore after so many oaths taken; Sir Saulius had discussed these oaths in the past when describing what knighthood meant as part of his instructions; many of them were very similar to what he had sworn to uphold as a Sondecki. To swear them again in this ceremony, before Lord Avery and the people of the Glen, and especially before his wife and children, was to set his heart and soul before them and before Eli and bind it irrevocably. Any failure to abide by his oath would be known by all, and censured by all.
"And now," Lord Avery began after a momentary pause to allow the weight of oaths just accepted to settle upon the rat's shoulders and upon the ears of all in attendance. "Do you swear loyalty and fealty to the house of Avery and to the Glen, and to serve that house and that land with all your strength, with all your devotion, and with all your life?"
Charles took a deep breath and declared it with all his heart: "I will to my lord be true and faithful; I will love all that he loves and shun all that he shuns. I so swear!"
Lord Avery lifted the sword from between Charles's ears and pointed it skyward for a moment. "Then, as Lord of the Glen and the house Avery, I accept your oaths of fealty, loyalty, and obedience, and will treat thee from henceforth as one of my own. I dub thee Sir Charles Matthias, protector of the Narrows, and knight of Glen Avery!" He lowered the sword touching each of Charles's shoulders once, and then placing the broad between his ears one last time before setting it back on the pillow held out in Christopher's arms.
Lord Avery then extended his left paw bearing the signet ring. "Rise, and seal thy devotion with your kiss." Charles rose partway, and then lowered the tip of his snout until his cleft lips and incisors were pressed against the inscribed face of the ring. As he stepped back and stood, the trumpeters began again with their fanfare, and all the Glenners attended whooped, hollered, and applauded, stamping hooves, hooting and baying their delight at their new knight.
Charles smiled to Lord Avery and took a deep breath, the crucifix still held tightly in his paws. Sir Saulius, a look of serene pride crossing every feature, took him by the arm, and turned him about to see all assembled. He found the eyes of his family and saw how closely Kimberly's paws were clasped to her chest, while his children all danced and hooted their little squeaks for their Dada.
He gasped in awe at the outpouring of delight and pride before him from a people who he had only met two years past. But his oaths were heard, and while they had accepted him as one of their own the previous year, now there was no doubt that he was a true Glenner both in word and deed! He took several deep breaths, each one fresh as if they were the finest gulps he'd ever tasted. His right paw reached down and wrapped about the hilt of his sword and with a metallic hiss he drew it forth and raised it aloft and shouted, "For the Glen! For Glen Avery!"
The clamor and rejoicing echoed between the mighty redwoods, that chant shaking the trees from roots to branches, the sky pierced with the joy of the Glen's new knight.