The Lead Crown: Ch 8.2c, The Great Illusion
#95 of The Lead Crown
Hello, readers, and welcome back to The Lead Crown!
Assuming you are looking for things of note, you will find two:
First, last week when I posted 8.1 there was no vote.
Second, 8.2 is posting this week, just one week after 8.1!
So... at this point there is a very big question: Would readers like weekly updates or is it better to provide them every other week to give people a chance to vote?
Also, there IS a Contributing Reader vote this week... and here it is:
Bishop Fulgaré shared something very important with Prince Malcom... a single piece of information that shook him to his core. What was it?
a) "Your sister is in grave danger... there are those who seek her death."
b) "Your brother has grown worse since your last talk... he is being poisoned at an increased rate."
c) "There is a great injustice being done at the Church in Newport, your highness... one that may cost far more than can be measured."
d) "Duke O'Dell's foray into these lands was not a random act... he was an unwilling chess piece in a game that is being played by forces beyond your understanding."
e) "Your father's death was not a natural one, your Highness. Be on guard-- there are those who wish to see your blood line severed."
This vote is open until midnight on Thursday, May 7th until I get a confirmation that this test run for the once-weekly updates is generally approved (in which case, please vote by April 29th!). So: keep with the weekly updates or go back to every-other-week?
Tranquil Waters: The Lead Crown Ch 8.2, The Great Illusion
True to his word, Bishop Fulgaré led Brother Rhys back across the beach through the mulling masses of Wyranese soldiers. Even upon reaching the section of land where the invader's forces came to an end and the Tribal warriors had created a wary defensive line the Dragon pressed onward, completely unmolested by the the combined forces of Horses, Deer, Bears, Wolves, and Jackals. What truly caught the Rat's attention however was when the Bishop bowed to the nearest Grass Tribe and offered a calm, well-meaning "Oani, Wenya."
Brother Rhys came to a stop. "You speak Tribal?"
The Dragon chuckled and gently laid a talon on the Rat's shoulder, urging him onward. "A few phrases and perhaps a dozen words... 'Let all guests be as gracious as their hosts.'."
Reis had never heard it used in conjunction with any discussion involving the tribes. "Seirn 4:13?"
Bishop Fulgaré nodded, continuing along toward a gathering among the tribes men that included Prince Malcom. "I once preached the importance of creating unity within the kingdoms, and had explained that included the free people of the tribe lands... unfortunately the Church translated that into conversion. When that didn't turn out as it had been expected the council opted for pacification instead."
Not knowing exactly what to say, Brother Rhys instead chose to say nothing, silently digesting what the Dragon had revealed. He remained quiet until the gathering around the Prince parted, allowing them entrance. The Bishop offered a courteous nod of his head. "I bid you a warm greeting Prince Malcom the First of Lehsunia, third child of Hammond the Bold, Thirteenth of the name."
More than one of the Tribesmen gathered about them started talking immediately, creating a mob of voices speaking in their native tongue but Prince Malcom simply held up a paw and they all fell silent... even the dark furred Jackal with white face paint worn in the shape of a skull. The Prince inclined his head in a return. "Your Excellency. I see by your regalia that you are a Bishop, but I confess that I do not know you by name."
As the only other direct member of the clergy Brother Rhys realized it was his obligation to make introductions. "Your Highness, this is Bishop Fulgaré, of Mehnzil."
Prince Malcom inclined his head again, lower the second time. "To what does Lehsunia owe the honor of hosting you, Bishop Fulgaré?"
The Dragon was so direct it almost made Brother Rhys smile, but his words were enough to make him cringe. "Little more than Duke O'Dell's over fondness of reaching for power that is quite apparently beyond his grasp."
The Wolf cracked a faint smile, but quickly hid it. "I see. And I assume it is you to whom we owe the cessation of hostilities?"
The Bishop rubbed his chin with a talon as he observed Prince Malcom. "You are far more well-spoken than most tales about you suggest, your Highness."
Without missing a beat, the Wolf recited what Brother Rhys recognized as a quote from the Book of Epiphany, but the Rat couldn't place the exact passage. "And so it was that Feron spoke falsehood, for he knew no better than what his fault eyes had heard and his weak ears had seen.'."
The Dragon's smirk seemed almost conspiratorial. "I have always favored that verse... and you quoted it correct as well. Most men completely overlook the dual play of eyes hearing and ears seeing. You are apparently well read too, Prince Malcom."
The Jackal standing in the circle spoke up, pointing at the Bishop as he addressed Prince Malcom. The Wolf shook his head, responding calmly. Whatever the answer, the representative from the Bone Tribe apparently disliked it and about-faced, storming off as he continued yapping out whatever objection he was declaring.
Bishop Fulgaré smiled. "I have had little interaction with the Jackals, your Highness, but I had heard that they were unreasonable. Apparently you have proven the uninformed wrong yet again."
The Wolf inclined his head. "As you say, your Excellency."
The casual discussion between the Wolf and Dragon continued for many long minutes and, one by one the tribesmen wandered off back to their own people; Brother Rhys realized that there were enough injuries that they had plenty to do beyond standing passively as they witnessed a discussion in a language they didn't understand. The Rat also took the opportunity to excuse himself; he could aid with the healing and every minute that passed was another patient left untreated.
The Priest didn't realize how much concern he'd been trying to suppress regarding Runs-on-Air's safety until he saw the young Buck. Once their eyes locked it was all Brother Rhys could to do avoid running to him and throwing his arms around him-- as it was he moved quickly and gave him a proper, reserved embrace... but he couldn't keep a tear from escaping as he withdrew. "I was worried."
The Buck smiled, responding first in the tribe tongue before addressing him in common. "It was a battle... people get hurt, but I am not hurt bad."
It was then that Brother Rhys saw that Runs-on-Air was favoring his left leg; a bandage had been pulled tight across his thigh and it was mostly hidden by the folds of the warrior's loin cloth. The Priest immediately felt responsible. "I should have been there to help you--"
The Buck held up a hand to silence him, leaning forward to a conspicuously close distance and raised his paw to his chest. "You were there to help me, Eyara. In here."
Brother Rhys took a step back, his ears burning hotly from the blush. He glanced around self-consciously before clearing his throat. "Well... I... I am... what I mean to say... I'm glad that you're still--"
Runs-on-Air cut him short. Apparently unsatisfied with the stand-off reunion the warrior stepped forward and took hold of the Rat's forearm, and pulled him in for a kiss. The Priest was so stunned that he didn't immediately recoil. After the initial surprise faded, however, Brother Rhys remained in the Buck's arms despite the public display. He realized he should have been much more firm in his rebuke of Runs-on-Air's advances but he didn't have it in him... he was entirely at the tribesman's mercy.
Thankfully, however, Runs-on-Air disengaged shortly thereafter. Although the reunion was sweet, what the Buck said next ruined the Rat's improved mood. "Among-the-Reeds is with the spirits... many of her people are."
Brother Rhys nodded, swallowing a tightness in his throat that threatened to choke him. "I... I can imagine there were many... ah... deaths."
His ventured assessment of the situation turned out to be an understatement. He followed Runs-on-Air across the battlefield to the thicket reserved for the injured tribesmen. In all, the Grass Tribe lost over a third of their number-- almost all of their men and boys of fighting age... along with several of their women who had picked up weapons. The rest of the Tribes had suffered as well, with most having casualties of approximately half of those they dedicated to the battle.
Henry Evans, the Human who had joined at Prince Malcom's side had been mortally wounded and had died while Runs-on-Air had been away. Berro, Prince Malcom's animal companion had received several severe injuries but was recovering; the Priest was surprised at how much care the healers of the tribes took in seeing to the wolf's wounds... and by how Berro let them treat him. In all, the events seemed almost like a dream: too surreal to be truth... yet there he was, and he was not waking up.
After touring the thicket and helping where he could Brother Rhys was finally ready to make his way back to Prince Malcom. Runs-on-Air guided him to where the Prince and Bishop were seated next to a campfire. With the darkness closing in, the two shapes seemed epic in their stillness, both gazing into the flames while speaking aside to one another. The discussion came to an end when Brother Rhys approached. It was Prince Malcom who broke the silence. "I trust you've been shown the injured, Brother Rhys?"
The Priest nodded solemnly, "And the dead... yes, your Highness."
Bishop Fulgaré stood, his wings wrapping around his shoulders like a cloak. "I believe it is time I take my leave, your Highness... please do consider my invitation."
The Wolf nodded, "I will, thank you, your Excellency."
Brother Rhys waited patiently for the Dragon to depart before looking to Prince Malcom again. Only once he was sure the Bishop was out of ear shot did he speak up. "I have never met a Bishop before... he is not what I expected."
The Prince smiled. "I try not to create expectations... but, either way he was certainly someone I will remember for a long time to come."
The Priest nodded, unable to argue against that point. "So... what has happened then? Is the battle over? Is everything settled?"
Prince Malcom let out a breath and looked down to the fire, stoking it with a long stick "Lord O'Dell is recalling his troops, if that is what you mean. His has realized his cause is lost and he is withdrawing."
Brother Rhys thought back to all of the dead and dying he'd encountered. "Somehow I still don't feel like we won."
The Wolf chuckled softly, tossing the stick into the stoked blaze. "That is because we did not prevent violence; regardless of the outcome of the battle you are right-- we did not win."
The Rat sat in silence for nearly a minute listening to the popping and crackling from the fire as he tried to formulate his next question. He looked up when he decided what it was. "Your Highness... what next? Are we going back to Vallara?"
Prince Malcom slowly got to his feet, dusting his rump off with his paws, then dusting his paws off on his hips. "Yes... but it is only a stop onto somewhere else."
"...where?"
The Wolf let out a deep breath and opened his muzzle to respond... then slowly closed it. He about faced and headed off into the darkness, offering only a cryptic "I suppose we'll find out once I know for certain."