The Lead Crown, Ch 6.6 Malcom
#66 of The Lead Crown
It is time once again to look in on the Heirs of Lehsunia. This is Malcom's post, but it is being presented from the viewpoint of Brother Rhys Barlow, the only Reader Contributed Character who has joined him on his quest to the Grass Tribe village. Please note that this means that Rhys' Contributing Reader no longer gets to vote on Group B events, but may instead help direct Malcom's quest as a non-Contributing Reader (as well as vote for Story Arcs for all 3 teams!).
There is a vote for this post, and it is open to all Non-Contributing Readers only (this includes Rhys' Contributing Reader). This vote may, in fact, hold a HUGE amount of significance as to where and how Malcom fits into the 'end game' of the story. How will Malcom and his group address the Wyranese aggressors?
A) Although there are a lot of Wyranese, they are vastly outnumbered. A show of force should be sufficient to turn the tables on them and prove to the Wyranese Duke that he doesn't in fact have any bargaining power.
B) Demand an audience with the Wyranese Duke from a position of strength. Use a boisterous and in-your-face approach to demand that they depart, but avoid resorting to violence if at all possible.
C) Malcom will met with the Wyaranese Duke as a delegate from the Tribals themselves, refusing to speak on behalf of Lehsunia or its people and telling the Duke if he wishes to hold council with Lehsunia that he should do it IN Lehsunia and keep the Tribals out of it.
D) Take a purely political approach and have Malcom meet with the Wyaranese Duke as a representative of Lehsunia rather than a member of the Tribals. He needs to remain pragmatic when it comes to diplomacy.
E) Approach the situation respectfully and tactfully, understanding that the Wyranese Duke obviously has the upper hand as he doesn't value the lives of Tribals. Use placation and supplication to get him to leave the Grass Tribe alone and depart peacefully.
Votes are due by January 15th. Also, be sure to keep an eye out for a VERY important Journal for character contributions!
Tranquil Waters: The Lead Crown
Ch 6.6 Malcom
They were two days into their journey, and each step took Rhys further from civilization. Prior to joining Malcom's foray into the Tribelands, Vallara was the furthest Rhys had ever been from home... but, whether home was Graddin or Newport was hard to tell anymore. At one time, the Rat was certain he'd never leave 'home' but, then again, that was back when home was the former... and, although he'd worked hard to make it feel like home, the latter was really not much more than a place to live, serve the church, and to try and get past the death of Lucian.
He'd tried to avoid thinking about the Wolf as much as he could. It had been some years and, for the most part, he could get by with only little snippets, memories, and recollections assaulting him at the strangest times during the day. At those moments it was all he could do to keep his composure, and usually resulted in him being even more outgoing and boisterous on the outside so he could keep everything else bottled in. Of course... that was also back when he wasn't wearing the necklace his deceased lover had given him.
Rhys reached up and pressed paw against the outside of the robe where, beneath it, the metal necklace buried itself further into his fur. He'd been thinking more about Lucian ever since Runs-on-Air had convinced him to don it... right before they'd made love. The Rat glanced beside him to the handsome young Tribal stag who, over the course of surprisingly little time had managed to break down his walls and become something more than a distraction. Noticing the Priest looking at him, Runs-on-Air gazed back and offered a smile that immediately reddened Brother Rhys' ears. The Rat had thought at one time he was beyond blushing, but it was just another one of his perceptions about himself that the Buck had proven wrong.
Feeling a strange weight to the silence between them, Brother Rhys cleared his throat, "Have you... ever been this far north?"
Runs-on-Air shook his head, "No, my Eyara... this is very far."
The Rat still didn't understand the word the Buck had started using, but he realized it was some kind of honorific or pet name. The first time Runs-on-Air had used it around Prince Malcom the wolf's tail had twitched with the very tip hinting at a wag. The response had made Rhys immediately self conscious... but the Buck's open adoration of him left the unease by the wayside... at least for a little while. "Some day you are going to have to tell me what that means."
The Tribal glanced his way, ears up, "What what means?"
Rhys paused, glancing around at the other travelers near them; Prince Malcom and Among-the-Reeds were talking with one another at the head of the column while Dr. Brownell was keeping to herself just behind them. When the Rat realized that left him and the Buck alone at the back of the group, he clarified. "That word... E-R-Uh."
Runs-on-Air smiled immediately, "The elders say, Head is the top of us. It is where we think. The heart is the... um... the CENTER of us. That is the word, yes?"
Rhys nodded, motioning to his chest, then either side, "Yes. Center... Left... Right."
The Buck nodded, "The heart is the center of us. It is where we feel."
The Rat smiled; it was good to know that the Tribals at least knew that much of anatomy. "Yes. The BRAIN is in the head. God gave us brains so we could think while lesser animals could not. The heart is where we feel... it controls our Humors."
Runs-on-Air laughed, "You say God... the Elders say spirits... but we all know the head thinks; the heart feels."
Brother Rhys raised an eyebrow as his ears swiveled in on the Buck. He liked that the Buck was more interested in finding common ground than differences. "But what does that have to do with that word? Eyara."
The Tribal reached out and placed his hand against the Rat's chest, "It is like your heart is mine, and my heart is yours."
There was something both complex and simple about the explanation, and it made Rhys certain that there wasn't a real translation for the word into the common tongue. He was about to further question his traveling companion but Malcom called to the Buck in the Tribal people's language. Runs-on-Air took his paw back, "Wild-Wolf calls. I will be back."
Although the group continued walking, Runs-on-Air increased his pace to catch up to them and the three spoke to one another. A few moments later Dr. Brownell's pace slowed, giving them a better lead as she let Brother Rhys catch up. "You don't speak the People's Tongue, do you?"
Brother Rhys flicked an ear, "Tribal?"
The Mouse woman tittered at that, "Yes. They call it something different than we do... but that's no surprise since our societies are so different."
The Priest offered a smile to hide his confusion, "You seem to do quite well with them. Their language... their customs... did you spend time as a missionary?"
Dr. Brownell's titter turned into a full on laugh, "I never would have had the time, Brother Rhys... no. I did spend time among them during my studies to get hands-on experience with their healers."
He nodded thoughtfully, "I've heard that they practice magic... that their medicine men make pacts with spirits in order to impose their will over God's creation."
The Mouse's smile disappeared; he wasn't sure if she looked offended or confused. When she placed a dainty paw on his shoulder, the tone of her voice said it all; she was condolatory. "Brother... the people of the Tribelands do not claim to rule over the world... they exist as part of it. Their willingness to be humble is what lets them see things that we do not."
The Rat nodded; he was certain that she was debating the veracity of their point of view with him, but he found it difficult to create a counter-argument because, as far as he could tell, she wasn't really arguing. "I see... so... they do not practice magic?"
Dr. Brownell's smile returned. "They have rituals for everything... just like we have our prayers. Their rituals are no more magic than our prayers. We worship God, and their rituals venerate the spirits. Although they ritualize everything there is plenty of sound scientific evidence to support the herbs they use and the tonics and tinctures they create."
Rhys was just about to bring up science as the University's form of religion, but that particularly discussion was cut short as Malcom trailed behind the two other Tribals so he could address both Rodents. "I know neither of you are suited to foot travel through the wild lands, but I greatly appreciate your willingness to help the people of the Grass Tribe."
Christine inclined her head to him, "I took an oath to help those in need, Prince Malcom, and that oath doesn't end with people who find their way to my office."
The Wolf smiled warmly and returned her nod, "I hope your absence does not cause any inconvenience for those who may need you back in Vallara."
The Mouse returned the smile, "Doubtful, your Highness... there are enough doctors in Vallara but there may be a shortage at the Grass Tribe village if things go poorly."
Malcom let out a breath, "I truly hope it does not come to that."
So close to the Prince, Brother Rhys could not help but speak up, "Your Highness... do you even know why Wyra would make threats against the Tribals?"
He realized too late after he spoke the word that most of the Tribesmen of the wild lands did not like it. Prince Malcom, however, was apparently pragmatic enough to let it slide. "I could not say for certain, but the fact that they are willing to go to these lengths to force me to speak with them leaves me concerned... especially with the tense diplomatic relations Lehsunia has had lately with them due to a misunderstanding in Newport some time back."
The comment surprised the Rat, "I had thought you lived among the Triba-- Tribesmen. How is it you know about what's going on in Newport?"
The Wolf laughed, "Even if I live among the Tribesmen Lehsunia is still my Nation of birth and it still has a place in my heart, Brother Rhys. I would just as assuredly come to the aid of its people as I would any of the Tribes."
The Rat nodded, "I just hope that the Grass Tribe is not hostile to Priests... I have heard many stories about Tribes where--"
Prince Malcom raised a paw to silence him, "Peace, Brother Rhys... the Tribesmen are naturally peaceful, and the few altercations that have arisen over the years have been caused by faults on both sides. So long as you remain peaceful the Grass Tribe will give you the same in return. It is also a point, I may add, that the Grass Tribes have never met missionaries, so they will not have the same hesitance to be kind to you that other Tribes may."
The final comment caught the Priest off-guard, causing him to come to a stop. "Why would the Tribals be afraid of missionaries?"
Dr. Brownell smirked, "Well... if you look at it from the other side of things, the Tribesmen have a happy village that gets turned upside down when violence breaks out after the arrival of missionaries."
It was a convoluted way of seeing it, but, when Rhys stopped to consider what the Mouse proposed, he couldn't completely fault her logic. "Missionaries--"
Prince Malcom interrupted him, "Are peaceful... as are the Tribesmen... and we may leave it at that. Among-The-Reeds told me that we are nearing the overlook, and we should be within view of the village soon."
While the first day and a half of travel led them through the thick forests of the wild lands, earlier that day the group had emerged onto a wide sea of rolling plains. It was hard for Brother Rhys to think that they could be 'close' to a village without being able to see it but, just as he was about to ask for clarification, they crested a ridge and he saw what was meant by an 'overlook'.
The land dropped down suddenly creating a steep slide some fifty or sixty feet. From there, the ground sloped gradually toward the sea in the distance. Rhys knew that a good portion of southern Lehsunia was an isthmus, but he never figured he'd have the opportunity to see the eastern shore. As his eyes settled in on the good sized Tribal village near the bay, however, any thoughts of casual nature site seeing came to an end.
The village was made up of a combination of leather and wood structures, and probably numbered two hundred or more. While the settlement took up a very respectable amount of land, it was dwarfed in importance by three large Wyranese vessels anchored in the bay. Brother Rhys was no maritime scholar, but he didn't need study to know that the iron-armored galleons were battleships. Although they were still quite distant, the Priest saw a large collection of row boats and pavillons set up on the beach.
Dr. Brownell was the first of the three to speak up, "They brought a small army..."
Prince Malcom nodded, "At least a hundred fifty ashore... possibly that many again still on the ships."
Rhys was, at the same time, both glad and regretful that he had chosen to come.