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Chapter 4: A Son's Diplomacy

For Idesin

By Draconicon

Bastien Blanc had a dilemma, and he wasn't entirely sure how to solve it. More than anything, he wanted to run to the library and see if there were books on the matter, but somehow, the young squirrel doubted that there were stories of old artifacts being broken and how to fix them.

He stood at his father's side in the great hall, occasionally turning to watch the older squirrel as the lord read through a series of petitions. Each time, he was tempted to speak, but there was a look in his father's eye, a look of preoccupation that he was too afraid to break.

So, instead, he lost himself in thought.

Bastien drifted back towards the bat in the castle dungeon, remembering how she had stared at him, how she'd cried when she'd been told that the artifact had been unhallowed. The look of utter horror on her face had terrified him, even though he didn't know why she was so broken up from it. After all, he couldn't imagine what the wandering folk would have wanted with the Light of Chivalry, but, then again, he didn't know what they wanted at all. They were a strange folk, even for someone that could understand more than their language.

She looked so...broken, he thought, remembering how she'd crumpled up as she was told what had happened. The way she collapsed, as if her bones had melted away at the words, it was like she'd been robbed of something more precious than her own life. Why?

"You're thinking of something that's none of your business, Bastien."

He jumped, looking back up at his father.

"W-what?"

"I know that look. You're thinking of something. Probably that bat. Put it out of your mind. She'll be punished, though not as harshly as she deserves, I wager."

"B-but...f-father, she's not...she didn't..."

"The only thing that makes her innocent - rather, partially innocent - is your word. And I suspect it, son, no offense."

"..."

"Don't look at me like that, please. We both know you prefer their company than our own."

Their company. Meaning the fae. He shook his head a few times, looking down and away.

"It...even if I did...l-lie...She is...maybe...helpful."

The papers hit the floor with a thump, and his father pulled his chin up, making him look at the older squirrel. This time, there was more than preoccupation in those eyes. There was annoyance, verging on anger.

"Why does it matter to you, hmm?"

"She...she's hurting...It's wrong to...to just keep her there."

"She stole from us."

"She was given it!"

"By something that shouldn't even be in the church? Bastien, please, stop spreading this nonsense. I stood by you in front of her because you're my son, and I can't see you disgraced...but we're alone now. Be honest. You didn't actually find anything, did you?"

"You...y-you don't..."

His father sighed.

"Look...I can't just let her go. She stole from the church. You know what that means."

He did, at that, though only because the priests in the local chapel kept trying to make him join them. There were days when their library tempted him, but only for a moment. Only until he remembered what they wanted from him.

They just...want more prestige, he thought. The church wielded much power in the western lands, preaching their words of chivalry, chastity, and love for the world. They gave much to the poor, and were the main source of education outside of the nobility, and even among them. They held the power of marriage in their words, and were the ones that crowned the king.

They were also waging a shadowy war against those from outside the lands they ruled, trying to close the borders against the wandering folk and those like them, and doing everything they could to encourage people to follow their ideals. Those that did not fall in with those precepts - like the wandering folk, according to Burkhard - were not welcome, at best, and hunted, at worst. A crime like this on the woman's head would have the church clamoring for more than a simple time in the dungeon.

Bastien shivered. He had no idea of what they'd want, but he knew it would be worse. He couldn't just leave her there, not when he'd seen her like that.

"What...what if she went with us...to fix it?"

"Fix - Bastien, the Light is unhallowed. It's gone."

"W-what about the h-h-holy sites? M-maybe we can, I don't...I don't know...pray there, g-g-get the g-gods to fix it..."

The lord stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook his head. When he tried to speak again, his father pointed at the door.

"Leave me. I have to consider this."

#

In his room at the top of the high tower, Bastien sat on the edge of the window, looking down on the castle, the fair, and the forest beyond. The squirrel could just make out the individuals that had peopled the fair during the day, many of them either packed up to their tents, or packed up to the road. Some few, like the wandering folk, were already leaving the area, probably scared out of their minds after seeing what had happened to Lucia.

I can't believe he won't...it's not...

He couldn't even think straight. Bastien leaned against the side of the window, grinding his head against the stone as he tried to pull himself together. There had to be a reason. Had to be something he could do about this. Why...why was this so hard? Why couldn't people just be good?

Closing his eyes, he cried. The unfairness of everything just pushed in on him too much to hold back, and he had to cry, or he felt he'd explode.

Some time later, he wasn't sure how much, he heard the soft tinkling of the fae folk. He wiped his eyes and blew his eyes, and then looked up. Three glowing balls hovered in front of him, then faded away, becoming little flying folk. Brownies, he knew they were called, and one of them alighted on his lap.

"Why are you crying, Bastien?"

"I just...I want things to be good, but they're not."

"Why? Aren't you happy? Aren't things good?"

"Not when..."

He shook his head.

"There's someone that tried to do something good, and she's in the dungeon, underground. I just wanted to help her, but my father...he won't believe me. He says that I'm just lying, because..."

"Because?"

"Because I like you better than I like...my own people."

And it wasn't wrong. When things were like this, at least, the fae were easier. He could understand them. They wanted what was good for them, for their people, and for some reason, it just made sense for them. Sure, they had weird rules, but they never broke their own laws. They always followed them, even when it made no sense. Sometimes, he wondered if his people would be better off that way. Sometimes.

The brownie rubbed his stomach, and he patted it on the back.

"I'm sorry. I don't...I just don't know what to do."

"Maybe we can play a game!"

"I don't think...I don't think a game will help."

"But it might!"

Bastien smiled slightly, rubbing his eyes as some last bits of tears tried to slip out. At least they were trying. It was better than being sent to...

An idea came to him, and he smiled, leaning down to the brownie until he was just over its head. He lowered his voice, whispering in case any of the servants were nearby.

"Do you know who was hiding in the church?"

"Do I? We all do," the brownie said, giggling. "The greatest game, hiding in plain side. Nobody could find him."

"Could you make him come back?"

The three brownies jumped back all at once, the one on his lap almost falling down before his wings started flapping again. They floated in front of him, speaking in a jabbering, blabbering way that made no sense, even to him. Eventually, the one that had been patting him and talking spoke up louder than the others.

"We can't do that! He'll be killed!"

"What if I promise that he won't be?"

"How can you do that?"

"My father...he won't kill me. And I'll make him promise that your friend will be under my protection."

"But..."

"I promise. Please...you wanted to give Lucia the Light for a reason...We have to do something about that."

"What'll this do?"

"I...I think I have a way to fix this...Just...get him to come here."

"..."

The brownies looked at each other, and Bastien pleaded silently for them to listen. He couldn't let someone just rot in the dungeon, or worse. The fae had gotten her into this. They had to help get her out.

"It's the rules...isn't it?"

The brownies froze again, groaning, and he knew he'd hit on it.

"It is, isn't it? You made someone mortal do your work, and now you have to protect them. That's fae law, isn't it?"

"...Okay...bring your father to the clearing on the south side of the forest. We'll...meet him there."

"Thank you. Thank you."

#

"This can't be happening. Son, you...this is not possible."

Even Bastien was surprised at the sight before him, not having expected anything like this. He thought that they would meet a brownie out here, or perhaps one of the other fae in disguise. Instead, they'd sent someone he'd never seen before, but had only read of in the books.

A great, black wolf stood like a man in the middle of the clearing, his arms crossed around his middle and his eyes narrowed, the gold in his eyes the only color that could be made out on his body. He was bulky, wide enough across the shoulders that Bastien imagined he would have a hard time slipping through the castle doors. Claws almost as long as daggers stuck out from his paws, fore and hind, and his tail swished back and forth.

A werewolf...guardian of justice...hunter of killers...

Bastien shook his head slowly as he walked forward, bowing to the great canine. The creature growled.

"You asked...I came...What do you wish?"

"F-for you...to tell my father...where you were and what you were doing..."

"Him?"

The werewolf cocked his head towards the Lord Blanc, and Bastien nodded.

"Yes. It's to protect the bat you met."

"Hmmph. Speak for me, then."

And so he did, relating the story that the werewolf laid down in barks and growls. The older squirrel couldn't stop staring, and Bastien felt some small sense of satisfaction at rendering his father so speechless. After the night before, he felt that he was owed, to some degree.

Yet, he kept the tale simple. The werewolf had come to the church and lived in it as a man, waiting for the day of the festival so that he could take the light and give it to someone that would carry it away. It was due to be brought to a final resting place, to where it was meant to be when it was given all the years ago, at the dawn of time. The bat had been to take it with her as the wandering folk left, and were it not for the rough actions of -

He paused.

"One of the guards..."

"Bastien."

The young boy turned back to his father, staring.

"One of the guards took it? They broke it?"

"Bastien, it was the word of one person against another, and she -"

"You told her that SHE broke it, and that was why she was in prison! She didn't do anything! She thought she broke something so beautiful, and she looked like she was dying inside, and you didn't tell her she was innocent?!"

"I couldn't just believe her. She's one of -"

"She's a person!"

"We'll discuss this later. Come. We have...unfinished business."

Bastien tried to dodge his father's arm, but he couldn't quite get himself free in time. The older squirrel pulled him along, dragging him out of the clearing and back to the road. There were no words, only a steady chuff, chuff, chuff sound from the werewolf behind them, a sound only he knew was laughter.

#

After much pressure from him, and his mother after she heard the story, Lucia was released from the dungeon and placed under house arrest within the castle. He offered to give her a room under his, but his father refused. Something about 'not letting that harlot' near him, not that he knew what it meant.

Still, the danger remained that she could be handed over to the church at any moment, and he wasn't sure if his father would fight the requests of the priests for much longer. After this embarrassment, he doubted that they had more than a week. He had to come up with something. He just had to. There was no way he could let it have a bad ending.

And so, he buried himself in the library, digging through story after story, legend after legend. He was so upset that he actually shouted at Burkhard once, and paid the price as the librarian chased him out of the rows of books for a whole day. He learned his lesson after that, and kept quiet as he kept up his research.

On the fifth day, he finally found something, and he ran to the great hall. He burst through the double doors, holding up his books. His father, deep in talks with an elder of the church, turned to him with raised eyebrows.

"Bastien, what is the meaning of -"

"I k-know how to fix the Light!"

"...Leave us."

This time, the dreaded command was given to the clergyman, and despite obvious annoyance, the old badger left. When the doors closed behind the churchman, his father took a deep breath, and sighed.

"Bastien..."

"I-I am right. I can...I can fix this, we can -"

"Bastien."

The old squirrel held up a hand.

"I'm sorry. I should have listened to you, and the bat, before. I just wanted to sweep this out as quickly as possible, and...I made a mistake. But, if you've found an answer, we still have time to correct it.

"Now...what did you find?"

The young squirrel smiled, and ran up to his father, sitting on the lord's lap as he opened the book to the history of Rannock the Wise, and his journey to the north to restore the sanctity of the royal scepter...

The End