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Chapter Text

Prologue: Secrets

And suddenly you know: It's time to start something new and and trust the magic of beginnings. -Meister Eckhart

Princess Lorelei of Garlesca walked out of her private chambers. Her father was waiting for an audience with her, citing 'an urgent matter' as the reason. Urgent matters could mean a lot of different things, and Emperor Kiordan has seen fit to keep everything a secret.

Her husband had fallen in battle, and the birth of his posthumous son soon after only complicated matters. After a brief discussion with her former brother-in-law, the infant was named after his father, as was dictated by Garlean naming customs. Little Corrado journeyed back with his mother from his birthplace in Garlesca, far across the Imperial Spine, until they arrived in the Electoral Palace of Wossaham, safe in Otharnic territory. He will be raised well, and Lorelei knew the beast to do so.

"Lori!" a high-pitched voice rang out from the top of a flight of stairs. A head poked through a balcony, revealing a familiar face - also an otter. Niels of Raskia may have been the kin of her father's sworn enemy, but he was raised by her father, and was one of her closest friends near her own age.

"It is good to see you again," he said. At twenty-six, he was nearing his prime, and was a good five seasons older than Lorelei, though he did not show it mentally.

"You seem to have waited for quite some time." She laughed. She was not the definite heir to her father's titles - her father may yet sire a son with her mother, and failing that, take another wife, yet he seemed to have given up trying.

"Oh…" Niels said, his not-entirely-there mind seeming to drift off into the distance.

"Could you pick up a cue for once?" Lorelei sighed in mock pity. "I know you're a bright beast, but it would not hurt you to pick up the tiniest tidbit of social guile?"

"Yeah, yeah." Niels's ears dropped, then perked again as he opened his mouth. "Has your father matched you with anyone? My nephew, perhaps? Lord Valdemar is seeking a bride from far and wide, and this match could resolve my brother's conflict with your father."

Lorelei shook her head. "It is not like Father to seek reconciliation. He prefers an alliance with Erlend of Kaldos."

"Erlend? A weird choice, considering his love for another beast. I'm surprised that your father even considered him."

"Father's managing the arrangements now. I have no idea if he will accept though. Let me guess…" Lorelei smiled. "You're jealous?"

Niels, as usual, declined to provide a straight answer. "Well, he is rather handsome, or so I've heard. Almost as good as his brother, and he looks better than most otters. Present company included, of course." The otterlord laughed.

"Good to hear your childish infatuation has faded." Lorelei smiled awkwardly.

"Lorelei?" another voice permeated through the walls of the castle, this one more booming, and definitely belonging to a beast with stronger will than Niels'.

"I have to go. Now. Goodbye!" Lorelei turned her head and walked briskly to the lower levels of the castle.

"Farewell!" Niels called after her. The princess thought she heard more sentences spoken in a softer voice, but she chose not to pay attention.

The corridors of the palace had been well-kept, with tapestries of old and paintings of new styles decorating the sides. Across the winding halls, Emperor Kiordan's favourite word pierced the air. "Useless! Useless! Useless!"

Lorelei smiled. Her father seemed to be winning, or else he would not be in such a mood. Finally finding the room in which her father shouted from, she opened the door from which the shouts emerged.

Behind the doorway sat Emperor Kiordan the Second. A beast with many titles and bynames, and 'Lorelei's father' was not exactly on the upper rungs. Still, that was probably the one he took most pride in.

He did not particularly shower affection on her, but he was an otter with many duties and interests - he may be the most powerful beast on the planet, but his 'ottery' characteristics pierced through his kingly aura more than his daughter would have liked. Tall and lanky, Kiordan loved fun. That smile on his face was omnipresent throughout Lorelei's memory. The black-furred otter treated everything like a game, yet somehow managed not to lose.

Kiordan was with that mysterious beast who was his spymaster. Between them, the remains of a game of chess sat idle on a table.

"Eight moves?" The other black-furred mustelid whined. "I got blasted in eight little moves - I haven't even moved all of the pieces!" Isangrim he was called, and Lorelei always thought that he was always up to something shifty. He looked like some sort of marten, but his chest wasn't a lighter shade of fur. And his ears were short. And he was awfully big for a marten. He had to be some other beast.

"Didn't expect that queen to arrive just in time, hmm?" The emperor picked up a crowned vulpine carving, its crown and dress denoting its significance. He grinned. A devil's grin, beasts called it, yet a less diabolical expression for Lorelei.

"I thought I was here for something more important." Lorelei snidely remarked. "A simple game of chess is hardly an 'urgent matter', as you put it."

"Well, your mother once said it is. For once, I'm not so glad that you're not so like her." Kiordan parried her concern away, like he had done for the previous twenty or so seasons. "Life's too short for chess, and not the other way round."

"Besides, I am one of the few beasts he can beat in a game." The spymaster chuckled, earning himself an annoyed stare from the otter.

"Now, daughter, on to more important matters." Lorelei turned to her father and smiled. The small talk was over.

"Politics first. Erlend of Kaldos is here in Wossaham." Kiordan grinned again, as if a puzzle of a thousand pieces was finally put together on that day by his own two paws.

"What?" Lorelei blurted out. Remembering the etiquette of a 'proper' princess, she shifted into a more calm countenance. "Shouldn't I, the lady, go to meet him on his own lands?"

"Oh, that's not his reason for visiting." The emperor grinned again. "No sane banker in Southsward or Travrik would ever lend money to him, so he's here, trying to secure a loan." He laughed even louder, with the spymaster in awkward silence. "From a stoat! An Ulfinger of Travrik borrowing from a stoat!"

"So will he come to meet me here?" Lorelei interrupted the revelry. "Or shall I go to him?"

"That is your choice," said Kiordan, his grin fading into a mere smile. "Yours and no other."

"Well I do wish to meet him." Lorelei smiled. Choices seldom came to her, but the Travrikan was a risk she could take. 'You're a higher rank than he is, so I doubt he'll be disrepectful. Besides, he's the one with all the pressure on him."

"Really?" Turning to Lorelei, Isangrim expressed his own reservations. "He's more boring than Niels, for Fates' sake. And what fun is lording over an otter as soft as butter? I may even say that you will only drive him into the paws of more females-"

Before Kiordan could react, his daughter's paw had curled into a fist, and crashed into the mustelid's muzzle, earning a very surprised shriek as his only reaction.

"Lorelei!" Emperor Kiordan barked, causing his daughter to turn her attention from the downed mustelid back to him.

The princess pursed her lips. "I apologise only that I did not reach for some sort of blunt instrument before going for him. That would surely be more colourful."

Kiordan sighed. "Nox will that you may not have daughters! But back to the urgent matter, and not the useless stuff." The otter chuckled as he caressed his queen chess piece, the carving seeming to smile. "A question. Can you keep a secret?"

"Er… Yes." Lorelei was not sure most of the time, but it was her father asking her. He raised her, fed her, played with her. She was his very future. Lorelei would do her best to keep his secret, whatever it may be.

Emperor Kiordan smiled. "Daughter, you do know what a Conjurer actually is, don't you?"

Lorelei rubbed her chin. What a random question. "They're in little stories that parents use to lull their children to sleep. And they are featured in a few ancient legends as well. That's what the books say, anyway."

"Didn't know you cared for books, but whatever. That means all three of us are living legends! Hurrah!" Kiordan was clearly enjoying his daughter's little fit of simmering irritation.

"Wait! Waitwaitwait." She pointed at the two males, and then spoke to her father. "So your spymaster's a Conjurer, you're a Conjurer," she pointed two thumbclaws at herself. "And I'm a Conjurer?"

"You're two-thirds correct. Nice work, little detective," the emperor said, the grin still stuck on his face. "He's not an otter, so he's a Thaumaturge. Not-so-useless distinction with a not-so-useless difference."

"Your daughter is an observant one," the spymaster remarked snidely, which earned him an angry stare from Lorelei. He flinched, clearly afraid of another impact to his snout.

Kiordan nodded. "Yes, yes. The power of Conjurers lies within our veins. This is why I had you as my only child. Can't risk any chances of a mundane brother of yours." The emperor played with his piece, then set it at his table. "Don't worry - your mother had no problem with that."

"I don't understand!" Lorelei wailed.

"You don't have to," the emperor smiled, throwing the queen, with its crown carved on her head, up into the air. "You just have to hold this in your paws."

Catching the flung piece, the princess grimaced. "And what would you have me do then?"

"Concentrate." Isangrim seemed to breathe heavily with every word. "Focus on the piece."

And so she did. The foxqueen was made of orange acacia wood, with some stripes decorating her clothes. A wooden carved crown sat on top, with a glass jewel clipped on.

"Now close your eyes." Kiordan said as his ears folded and his grin faded into nothingness. Lorelei seldom heard him use an uncertain tone, but he did now.. "Clear your mind of useless things, then seize it! Seize it with your mind!" Lorelei obediently did so, focusing on the texture of the wooden figure - smooth, with a few cracks within. Then, she discovered something else.

The figure started to warm up, as if a fire was smouldering within. She opened her eyes with a start. Then there was a light, white in colour, and with a piercing intensity that could be missed if one decided to blink at the wrong time. Another flash followed. Then another. The light emanating from the crowned head was as feeble as a watchtower viewed from miles and miles away, yet it still seemed to shine and bloom.

In a few moments, the foxqueen was just a regular, non-luminous piece of wood. The princess and the spymaster sat with their mouths agape, the former unable to comprehend what happened, the latter merely mirroring her reaction.

The emperor was emotionless for once - or so it seemed. Then, within an instant, he laughed. "And now we have actual proof that you're a Conjurer. You might see the future in short bursts. You might heal others of any ailment but death. But we have Gifts, Lorelei, and they have to be put to good use." Without warning, Kiordan nodded at Isangrim. "You may start now."

"Start what?" Lorelei asked.

But it was too late. A second has scarcely passed before Isangrim stretched out a paw. Lorelei felt something tug on her; a warm ripple, gentle to the touch. Then in one rapid moment, the heat became a searing flash, like she blundered into a volcano or something. She gasped at the imaginary pain, and was suddenly afraid of doing harm to somebeast else.

"What was that? What in the world have you done?" The princess turned towards the trembling mustelid. Now she was afraid of getting hurt. "What did you do?"

"I… er… bonded you." Isangrim's ears folded as he responded.

Lorelei didn't wait. Ignoring her father's confused stare and her own unexplained fear, she delivered another paw-blow to the spymaster, who doubled over in pain.

This time, however, he was not the only one. The otter felt the impact as well, as if somebeast just as strong just whacked her just as hard. Lorelei was one to recover quickly, but even she had to be shocked.

"What sorcery was that?" she asked, coldly turning her head, pretending that nothing had happened at all.

"The properties of a Bond are, to say the least, interesting," Emperor Kiordan continued to smile. "Of course, this is not to be confused with the bond between master and slave, as those blasted Tarelians might attempt some flimsy justification. As a result of being bonded by the Thaumaturge in front of you," he pointed at the groaning spymaster, "you would be stronger, he would be stronger, and hopefully everybeast will be happy."

"Well, I do feel that she's stronger," said Isangrim, rubbing his snout.

Lorelei scowled, biting back the urge to smack the mustelid again and again. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Father. Besides, what advantages can it bring to the idiot? He wouldn't just have bonded me for no reason - he's no fool. Or was I wrong here?"

"Well, yes. There is a concrete reason about the bond." The room darkened as Kiordan's eyes hardened, his whiskers twitched and his smile, for the first time in what seemed to be forever, froze. "You can now feel what he feels, and sense what he senses, but not think what he thinks. Remember that." His erstwhile smile returned almost immediately. "Oh. And you can know where each other are, albeit vaguely. This is not useless. And you can sense each other's locations, to add to the fun. This is the crucial part. I have to ensure that you won't lose each other as you're being trained. That will not do, plain and simple."

"So almost all feelings can travel up the bond?" asked Lorelei, still confused. Lorelei, or more accurately, Isangrim's confusion slowly faded. He must have some of her father inside him to be so smug. After all, the emperor and the spymaster have worked together for too long.

"Correct! Or so I have been told. There was that one time that we drank too much, and... I think I'll just say that we discovered that drunkenness travels across the Bond much faster than expected."

"That's… interesting." Lorelei sighed. "You know, I think I will keep your little secrets. But still, perhaps you could have asked me before? Or maybe to be so considerate as to tell me why the whole thing was done in the first place?"

"I am sorry, my Lori." Kiordan sighed. "I was desperate and short of sight, and needed results quickly." He smiled - he chose not to grin. "As for why, you will learn why over the course of the next few years." The emperor was quick to change the subject. "Don't tell anyone about this. Not your future husband, not your mother, and not your children. I told you all this for a reason. Beasts will die if anybeast else knows about Conjuration, or Thaumaturgy for that matter." Even if any one of your pups does inherit your gift, tell them nothing until I want you to." Kiordan's eyes seemed to burn with something. Rage? Desperation? Fear? Lorelei did not know.

"I understand." Lorelei suppressed a tremble that Isangrim could not hold in.

"Swear it. On the life of your son, swear it!"

"I swear that I will not tell anyone about me being a Conjurer without your permission." As if having to share a heart with this fake marten wasn't enough… "Why are you doing this now, of all times? Why now, after twenty seasons? Why is this an urgent matter?"

Kiordan frowned, the second time in as many minutes. "It will become evident, and do please refrain from asking questions. Be patient for once!" The emperor sighed. "We now know that our Empire is not the only realm to have beasts like us on their side. There are rumours of Southswarder and Tareller foretellings, so our plans will have to accelerate exponentially. We have been too slow to act, and now we pay the price. The flames of truth shall burn bright, until our world and its reflections are no more. All is etched in fate, and to deny fate is useless."

Chapter Text

The Tug of the Whorl

To say goodbye is to die a little. -'The Long Goodbye' by Raymond Chandler

Up the stairs Kiormund went, slow step after slow step.

The Father Abbot of Redwall occupies a higher position than the Brothers and Sisters, the otter thought, figuratively and literally. Being invested with such an important position warranted privacy, and so Abbot Cuthbert had his own room on the second floor of the abbey complex.

A few knocks on the door quickly brought out a voice. "Come in!"

Kiormund nodded at the abbot's voice, before he forgot that a door was between them. Grunting at his own stupidity, he quietly pushed the door open.

Abbot Cuthbert greeted him with a wave of the paw. "Oi! Kiormun'!" A smile indicated that the sea otter was in a good mood, despite the mounds of paperwork in front of him. "I almost forgot that yer supposed to be here now, matey! Time really flies when yore workin'."

"I suppose that's so," Kiormund replied, nodding. "Three seasons is too short a time for one to get used to your position."

"Indeed, indeed," said Cuthbert, taking his eyes off his pen and papers. Unlike Kiormund, the abbot was a sea otter, as his dense fur would indicate. "Sometimes I wish I hadn't argued on behalf of those vermin way back when."

The younger otter shook his head. "You saved a few dozen lives there, Father Abbot. You shouldn't regret that. I know I wouldn't hesitate."

"I know, I know." The abbot stood up. "Who knew the Brothers and Sisters would use this act of mercy to place me in this room?" Cuthbert shook his head before he opened a drawer, deft claws revealing a letter. "While you were off visiting Brockhall, a Southswarder gave me this, and he told me to give ye this as soon as possible."

Kiormund stepped forward, receiving the letter in both paws. Separating upper and lower flaps was a seal, with a wolf rampant etched upon it. The smile quickly faded from the river otter's face. "Father."

"Lord Erlend?" Cuthbert interjected. "Yore going home?"

"It seems so." Cracking open the seal, the young otter revealed the letter's contents. "I need to give this a read." Kiormund took a deep breath before he proceeded to do exactly that.

Kio,

Things have changed much since I have left you in Redwall. So it is that I have to call you back to Kaldos sooner than expected. My purpose is not in this letter, as it could be intercepted by anybeast with an agenda. Besides, Sigurd and Sigrun would like to see you again after these three long seasons, and I presume your mother would as well. Leave as soon as possible, and do try to be discreet. The Roaringburn would impede you in this weather, and journeying on land would be dangerous. Pass through Floret, then take the eastward road to Travrik. Be safe.

Lord Erlend

"This is bad," moaned Kiormund. "Very, very bad."

"What's it about?" Cuthbert's brows furrowed.

Kiormund sighed. "I have to go home as fast as possible. Something's happening back in Southsward."

Cuthbert's whisker twitched. "War? Famine? Or is it something else?"

"It does not say," Kiormund shook his head and frowned. "Father was vague as usual. It could be anything."

The abbot rubbed his chin. "The last time we met, I heard from yer uncle that Southsward and another kingdom were on the brink of war. Starts with a T…"

"Tarelis." Kiormund raised a claw. "But Father's not on the Southswarder side. He's allied with the Tarellers against the Southswarders."

"Oh." Cuthbert plopped right down onto his chair. "I thought otherwise. But if it really is war, then Lord Erlend would've specified it. Southsward's probably at peace. Why else would yer father tell you to go to Floret?"

A tense silence followed. It was normal for Kiormund to be silent, but Cuthbert was as well. Finally, the former spoke. "I should go back to my room and pack, Father Abbot."

Cuthbert nodded, and Kiormund turned away and walked through the door and down the stairs.

The younger otter wasn't expecting the abbot to know anything about politics. Born in Green Isle, the abbot had sought adventure in Mossflower as an adolescent. It was unlikely that he ever had to live under any lord or king, nor care about what happened in castles and courts. He was free to choose his own path - until he became Father Abbot of Redwall Abbey, of course. Even so, he took everything in stride, and remained much the way he had always been.

The otter's head spun as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Why? Why have I been called back? Lord Erlend had cared little for him ever since he was born, nor did he keep his wife close to him. I wonder if Mother knows that I'm coming back at all…

"Kiordan Gudmund Streambattle!" A familiar voice rang out from the other side of the corridor, and the otter's ears perked up. "What's with the long muzzle?" Graha was the sort of vixen who would stick her snout into the business of others without even a thought.

"I know that you foxes don't have middle names and surnames, and so it's hard for you to understand," Kiormund recited, rolling his eyes. "But do please call me Kiormund."

Graha chuckled. "It is always fun to see your little recitation." The fox was one of those beasts that Abbot Cuthbert provided sanctuary to, and she wasted no time in showing her gratefulness. "In my eighteen seasons of life, I've never met a beast like you." Seeing Kiormund's expression, her eyes widened, then quickly returned to their original state. "And no, I am not in love or anything. Do not be ridiculous! So what's going on with you?"

"I- I'm leaving Redwall soon." Kiormund confessed. "I told you before that I could leave at any moment, and now my father's calling me back."

"Oh." The vixen's tail twitched. "You did say so. It is hard to think that you are leaving so soon. I thought you would at least get to see the ceremony of me joining the Order… what is it called again?"

"That would be ordination," said Kiormund. "I thought you would have memorised it by now, to be honest. Can't make a fool out of yourself in the next three months."

Graha's ears suddenly perked up. "Oh! How about I go with you?"

"What?" Kiormund gasped. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Southsward doesn't take kindly to foxes. I told you about the whole business with Urgan Nagru a season or two before, did I?"

It was Graha's turn to roll her eyes. "Oh please! A fox does not simply walk into Southsward. I was just talking about going with you to Salamandastron, then seeing you off at the ports. Besides, we will probably pass through Mossvale. Visit my family and all that."

Kiormund nodded. The former hordebeasts Abbot Cuthbert had spared had decided to move west down the River Moss and establish some sort of community there, with the ability to defend itself. Mossvale was a way of dealing with former hordebeasts, while creating a bulwark for Redwall.

"That would be a nice idea," the otter said. "I've never been there before."

"It is not anything special, mind you." Graha spoke slowly. "You would get bored if you stayed there for more than a day or two." The vixen had never used a contraction since Kiordan and her first spoke all those seasons ago, when they were both trying to grow out of their shells without the other knowing. She might not have been as talkative as Egil, but she was just as good a friend regardless.

"We'll see when we get there." Kiormund nodded, then grimaced. Packing! He had forgotten again! "I'd best be going! See you at supper!"

"Do not forget to be there, Kior… mund!" said the vixen, her tail twitching madly.

The otter smiled. He wouldn't miss another supper ever again - not since last time. "Will do!"

Kiormund didn't miss supper. While he and Graha were having their hotroot soup, Abbot Cuthbert publicly announced his departure from Redwall in mere days. The otter had to rush his meal and depart Cavern Hole with his rudder between his legs. He had no desire to be asked questions that he didn't know the answer to.

But at least some good came out of it.

Two days later, he was in the Great Hall, gorging himself on more soup, bread and Deeper'n'Ever Turnip'n'Tater'n'Beetroot Pie. It was very kind of Abbot Cuthbert to provide Kiormund (and by extension Redwall) with a feast of departure, and it was even kinder for Friar Rocco to allow Kiormund to select the courses himself.

"Take care not to overstuff yerself, matey." The abbot chuckled, gulping down his October Ale. "Ye've gotta be hale and hearty, but you're going to be sick if you eat too much!"

"I understand, Father Abbot." Kiormund nodded, then turned to take a sip of his strawberry fizz. "I'll take care."

"Moderation is a virtue," said Cuthbert, wolfing down more shrimp and hotroot soup. "Not that I possess it or anything. But a virtue nonetheless."

"It would be better if you held onto your appetite, Father Abbot," said Friar Rocco. "Shrews like I don't have much room to stuff food into, so all of you had better start off slow!"

"Understood, Friar," nodded Kiormund, who turned back to his food. It was only a few seconds before the otter felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Are you going to miss everything here?" asked Graha.

"Huh?" Kiormund wasn't sure. "I'm surely going to miss a lot. It's the best place I've ever lived in - that's for certain."

Graha turned back to the otter from her blueberry tart, her muzzle still stained indigo. "Do you not feel that it is a bit boring here?"

"Boring?" Kiormund rubbed his chin as Graha reached for more tarts. He hadn't considered that. In his three seasons here, he had been very busy enjoying himself, taking on a hobby or two on the side. Life was never boring here.

But it will be when I get home.

"I suppose it could be worse," said Kiormund.

"Well, at least the food is nice." Graha licked her lips, and picked up another tart. "Would you like one of these?"

Kiormund shook his head. "I'm not feeling hungry."

"More for me then, I suppose." Graha chuckled. "You really should not be that somber every hour of the day. This is Redwall, Kiormund!"

Kiormund forced a smile. "Thanks for getting the name right after three seasons, Graha. I appreciate it. And I suppose I should treasure the remainder of my days here - all one of them."

"Oh, Kiormund!" A grey-furred squirrel approached the pair.

"Good evening, Brother Leonard." Graha stood up almost instantly. Leonard was the Recorder of Redwall. The greying squirrel had seen much, and passing down his knowledge to future generations was his duty. The vixen would not be so close to ordination without his help.

"I just came here to say goodbye," said the Recorder, brushing off the vixen. "You're an intelligent beast, and I often wish that you were a full Brother of Redwall."

"I'm not happy to leave the Abbey," said Kiormund. "But I fear my duty is elsewhere."

"You'll be stuck with me then, Brother," Graha chuckled, little bits of tart still in her mouth. The Recorder nodded, then walked away without another word, coaxing a grimace from the fox.

Abbot Cuthbert stood up at that exact moment. "Attention, Redwallers!" The tables in the Great Hall suddenly became silent as the abbot spoke. "As ye know, one of our own, Kiord - sorry." He looked at Kiormund, who nodded. "Kiormund Streambattle is due to depart tomorrow. Lord Erlend is quite anxious to meet his son, which will brin' his time in Redwall to an end. Frankly, I am not happy with how abruptly things had to end, but I am very glad that he was here in the first place." The sea otter turned to Kiormund. "Ye might want to make a speech here."

Kiormund gulped. If he had wanted to make a speech, he would have rehearsed for one! The otter stood up, his rudder shaking like a leaf in a storm. He took a deep breath.

"Er… um… how about a toast?"

Kiormund sighed in relief as the sound of seventy-three beasts shouting 'cheers' echoed through Redwall Abbey.

Chapter Text

Till Sea Swallows All

She never forgets a slight, real or imagined. She takes caution for cowardice and dissent for defiance. And she is greedy. Greedy for power, for honour, for love. -Tyrion Lannister, 'A Dance with Dragons', George R. R. Martin

Lorelei envied her grandchildren. They had no clue what a funeral was, so they could play and laugh their hearts out while others had to express nothing but mopey sadness and soul-crushing despair.

Right now, her Corrado was in front of his uncle's body, giving another speech of how noble he was as Duke of Garlesca, how loyal he was as an Imperial vassal, how caring he was as an uncle, et cetera. The last one was probably a jab at her.

Her father, for his part, was strangely silent, and Lorelei decided to follow suit. Emperor Kiordan was itching to talk to her, they having not seen each other for quite a long time. It would either be about politics, Corrado, Erlend, the other Kiordan, or Isangrim. The not-marten had broken the Bond a few seasons after it was set up, almost immediately after learning about the mood swings that a pregnant otterwife had to endure. He had never even tried to reconnect with her after her second child was born, and that was the way things should have been from the start.

"Uncle Orlando may not have been the best of kin, but he did his duties well," said Corrado, bowing. "Though the sea takes all lives, his time on land will be remembered fondly until the end of time." Bending over, he kissed his uncle's forehead, then walked back to the end of the shrine.

Lorelei never knew Orlando. They had met exactly thrice, and she had been old enough to remember only the last two times. It was fortunate that Corrado did not expect her to cry or wail over a stranger.

Everyone stood up and bowed towards the deceased, then followed her son out, with Kiordan lagging behind.

"Lori," her father said softly. "We should meet after the reception."

"Where?" She tried to whisper, but a few heads turned towards the pair. A glare from her quickly turned them back.

"Maybe in my quarters or something? No. Your mother would be there. Your room then." Having said thus, he walked towards his wife, with a speed far beyond the average septuagenarian.

"Mother." Corrado approached his mother, with his usual smile muted. "The food's ready, and I'm afraid Lord Orlando would not be happy if we waste too much."

Lorelei smiled. Dead uncles were nothing to be afraid of."I'm not exactly hungry. Besides, your uncle made many friends before his passing. They can find their own food."

"They'll be happy to oblige." Corrado nodded, then swiftly went to tend to his children - but not before embracing Marla.

Slipping out of the mass of beasts blocking the doorway, Lorelei slowly progressed past the top of the ridiculously narrow stairs of Castle Vitalina. Nearby, four-season-old Eufemia Truetide was on her father's back, laughing as he spun her around while Kiordan and his wife Marla chattered about how good Corrado's speech was. It wasn't that great, but she had no intention of interrupting them, nor being eviscerated verbally by both her parents.

"They do grow fast, yes?" A voice rose from behind Lorelei. Evidently, Isangrim had not outgrown his love for surprise after the events of twenty seasons.

"Yes," responded the otter. "They do indeed." She still did not like the mustelid per se, but he had been out of her life for the last seventeen seasons.

"Children must be wonderful," Isangrim chuckled in his usual dry and mirthless manner. "Not that I'm getting any of my own. Martens are rare enough in these parts, and, you know, I'm rarer than them."

"Have you considered taking other children under your wing?" asked Lorelei before shaking her head. "Oh wait. You do already. Being Father's spymaster and all."

Isangrim cringed. "I do not. Having children is significantly easier than having to work with children." He stamped his footpaw in mock anger. "Imagine the candied chestnuts I would have to give away! Besides, I have my Sorcery. Makes my job significantly easier. How's Conjury going?"

"Not at all brilliant." Lorelei shook her head.

"Huh?" Isangrim's ears twitched - a marten trait. "Are you that out of practice?"

Lorelei frowned. "Parenting, grandparenting and having to manage Garlesca for father takes up quite a bit of time. Besides, Kiordan taught me as badly as he raised me. And the less said about you, the better."

Isangrim put his paw right up to his face. "I… I tried. I tried to help you. You have much drive and potential, but-"

"I'm leaving them untapped. You've told me that time after time again, and I'm sick of it. You two ask me to keep your secrets, while you keep your own secrets in turn!"

"Kiordan doesn't believe that you're ready," said Isangrim without even an inch of regret.

"Ready?" growled Lorelei. "Maybe if he hadn't left me to run Garlesca while he was off travelling all those years, I would be ready."

"Look." Isangrim scowled. "I don't have permission to tell you what your father is up to, that will have to wait. He will probably tell you tonight. In the meantime, I'd best be going." Then the mustelid was gone, fleeing up the stairs to his own room.

"Isangrim giving you trouble?" Another voice came from behind Lorelei. Her mother was not as bad as her father when it came to sneaking up behind her, but by all accounts she apparently learned from him..

"Yes," sighed Lorelei. "I have no idea why father still trusts the shifty creature."

"He had always shown great favour to vermin," said the Empress. "He was saved by a weasel in battle, or so I've heard."

"Yeah, yeah." Lorelei's whiskers twitched. "So what are you here for?"

"Just a thing about Cory," said Marla without batting an eye.

Lorelei cringed. Corrado had been a touchy subject for the last decade. "I thought he was good with me now."

"He is." nodded Marla. "He told me to tell you that you're a wonderful mother."

Never had Lorelei expected to hear that, from Corrado of all beasts no less. "It is all thanks to you, Mother," the princess stammered. "Corrado would not have accepted me without you."

"Having children of his own definitely helped him understand your side of the story, though you have yet to understand his side." Marla patted her daughter on the back. "Don't fret. One day you'll understand, and know when to let go. With both Cory and Kio." The elderly otterwife sighed. "I've always thought I let you go too late while Kiordan let you go too early. Who knows what he could be up to these days?"

"Oh hey, you two!" Kiordan waved a paw at mother and daughter. "I'm afraid supper's ready. Maybe we should go." He grinned at Lorelei. "Don't worry. Isangrim's not coming."

Another feast, another round of pleasantries, another hour of trying not to get drunk had passed, and Lorelei found herself sitting on her four-poster bed with her father beside her.

"Take a good guess," the Emperor opened his still-grinning mouth. "What would posterity think of Orlando Truetide?"

Lorelei scowled. She had not inherited Kiordan's love for random and sometimes stupid questions, and she was growing tired of them. "I have no idea."

"Aw…" Kiordan rolled his eyes as he plopped down onto the bed, right next to his daughter. "I was hoping for a concrete answer, but it seems that you're not willing to give me one."

"I'm tired of your questions." Lorelei growled. "What's the point of beating around the bush?"

"Tsk." Kiordan stood up once more. "You don't seem familiar with the concept of 'small talk'. Ah well. Could've been worse."

Lorelei sprung to her footpaws as well. "What's the point?"

Kiordan lifted an arm and spun his paw around. "In asking the right questions, one would know more about oneself and the world around us."

"And then what?"

"Peace of mind." Kiordan bowed with a flourish, like he was some performer on a stage. "The meaning of life is peace of mind. By knowing that others thought well of him, Corrado's dear uncle would rest a bit easier. Post-mortem thoughts aren't less than useless - far from it."

"Get to the point!" shouted Lorelei. "Why did you call me here? I know I'm not skilled enough to be of much use to you."

"Because we're all in mortal danger!" Kiordan sighed in exasperation. "Look. I'm sorry for not telling you everything, but that's just because I don't want you to attract attention! There are bad things afoot. Beasts visiting you in dreams, taking your memories, your capabilities or your soul." Kiordan rubbed his forehead. "They paid me a visit a week ago, and I was lucky to escape with my life."

"Who would be responsible?" asked Lorelei. "And how could I help after being kept in the dark by Father Dearest and the fake marten?"

"I know one of their names." Kiordan's rudder swung from left to right like some kind of malfunctioning clock arm. "Daghild. And don't worry about me. "

Lorelei gasped. "The Archivist of Floret? But she's pathetic! Doesn't even know how to wield a sword, so they say."

"That's because she doesn't need one," Kiordan's tail finally stopped swinging as the emperor took a deep breath. "The first thing one notices about her is that she bears no steel. For me, it was almost the last."

"What motive does she have? She isn't the sort to kill you out of spite, and Southsward doesn't want you dead. Not yet. Or it could be the Raskians. Or maybe the Tarelians." She took a deep breath. "Come to think about it, there are quite a lot of beasts who want to see you dead."

"I don't really know why," said Kiordan in a tone that suggested that he knew exactly why. "The point is that we need to be vigilant, and you must train your abilities to perfection." With yet another flick of his paw, he produced a little piece of wood and smirked.

It was the foxqueen piece from two decades ago.

"Here. Take it." Kiordan handed the piece to his daughter, who responded with a grimace. "No, nothing will happen to you this time. The Bond was a useless experiment, and I know better now.."

"What do I do with this?" Lorelei's brows twitched. "Make a dark room a little bit brighter?"

"No." Kiordan shook his head. "Nox, what was I thinking back then? No. Do you know what a Pathway is?"

Lorelei nodded. "A path to another place. It's in the name, after all."

"Good," Kiordan rubbed his paws. "Now, you'll learn how to open one. Right into Isangrim's bedroom, maybe? Teach him a lesson for being late?"

"Alright." Lorelei nodded again. Closing her eyes, she reached out. A shrill sound cut through the air, and Lorelei's eyes snapped open. The fruit of her labour was there, a Pathway shining light into the sleeping spymaster's face.

"Isangrim!" The emperor rushed through the portal towards the not-marten's bed. "Wakey-wakey! Now isn't the time to-" Kiordan gasped.

The spymaster wasn't breathing.

Chapter Text

Testing the Waters

Some men share brotherly love - that of Cain and Abel. -Andrzej Majewski

Every time Erlend went to a wedding, he would compare it to both of his own. This one was somewhere in between.

His son Sigurd had grown up to be a warrior, but prodding him to talk to a lady was like moving a mountain. However, if anyone could talk the boy into something, it was his mother. Sigrid goaded him eventually to walk up to the altar, convincing him it was for the best.

"Erlend." His wife approached him, with a goblet of Garlescan wine in her paws. "It's quite touching, seeing Sigurd married."

"I don't really know if it's the right decision," mused the otterlord. "I married for love, and it isn't really fitting to prevent my children from doing the same." He put a paw up to his head. "It's Lorelei all over again."

"The Shellhearts aren't that bad." said Sigrid. Like most Travrikans, she spoke as if she sang, in a manner that Erlend could not replicate even after his studies of the language.

"I suppose they aren't," said Erlend. "But again, neither are you."

For Erlend, the wedding feast was the only part of a wedding worth going to. Good food, better wine and a chance to speak to old friends. The best part, of course, was that he did not have to pay - King Gudmund decided to be generous for once.

Sigurd walked up to Erlend. "Father, I would like a private word with you."

"Yes, son," replied Erlend. The otterlord looked at the bride, still in deep conversation with her sisters-in-law at a nearby table. "She probably won't hear us."

"I don't think I'm able to be a good husband to Avelyn. As you know, I'm not good at a lot of things," said Sigurd, shaking his head.

"Don't worry, boy." The otterlord patted his son's shoulder. "You'll get to understand her by living with her for a period of time. Love comes later."

"Funny, coming from you. When was the last time you've talked to Kio's mother? Ten seasons ago?"

"Eleven," answered Erlend. And she can wait."

"But I can't. I did my duty and I have to live with Avelyn for the rest of your life, and I can't run forever."

"You can run now." Erlend replied almost without thinking. "You don't have to love her if you don't want to. Taking another wife is an option."

"But that's-"

"A Travrikan thing, I know. I doubt Avelyn's family would approve of that decision."

"Lord Erlend!" A deep voice rang out from the back of the room. "Welcome back to Tarelis." Father and son turned their heads upward as a tall otter smiled at them both.

"It is good to see you, Lord Alef," said Erlend.

"I've always wanted to speak to you, Lord Erlend!" exclaimed Alef. "I've always heard tales about your bravery fighting for the Empire. How you saved Emperor Kiordan's tail at Albero, all the dealings with the Southswarders, and-."

"I could tell you all of them tomorrow if you like," said Erlend mechanically. "I'm quite tired."

"Thank you very much." The young lord turned to Sigurd. "How's my sister?" asked Alef.

"Avelyn is doing well." Sigurd was just as mechanical. "I hope my sister will get along with her.."

"They're going to be as close as sisters by blood." Alef waved his paws. "My brother Alken, being the excellent judge of character he is, thinks that you're going to be a wonderful husband and a goodbeast with a noble heart."

Sigurd nodded. "The same can be said for him."

Erlend turned to Alken Shellheart, still in deep conversation with his wife Jehanne in a dim corner of the room. For Alken, and only Alken, 'the love comes later' was not a lie.

"I'm quite sure you can try to outdo him later in the night, Lord Sigurd," said Alef. "Although he's a hopeless romantic and all that, you must be the better dancer. We're too tall for that."

A booming voice erupted from behind the three otters. "I suppose you are."

Erlend bowed to the second newcomer. King Gudmund of Tarelis was as imposing as a mouse could be, but the art of merrymaking was out of his grasp.

"No need to greet me. How did you find your bride, Sigurd Streambattle?" asked the mouseking.

"She is a good match," replied Sigurd.

Erlend gave his son a little nudge. "My boy's a bit nervous, but he'll get over it, " he said.

"Ah," said Alef, rolling his eyes. "Just like-" Erlend gave the young lord a stern stare, and Alef's tail twitched. "I shall see myself out." Alef hastened to his brother's side with surprising speed.

"Don't worry about him," said Gudmund, reaching for his own goblet and drinking deep. "He will understand when I let him get married in a few seasons."

Sigurd nodded. "Hopefully he'll understand its significance."

"He will sooner or later," said Sigurd. "I did when I was about his age."

"Then what about your twin?" The mouseking asked. "Your sister would be married sooner or later."

"The Raskians broke her betrothal." Erlend groaned. "And I am stuck once more."

"I am sure that the situation will soon improve for you," Gudmund nodded, then quickly went to fetch a word with Alef Shellheart.

Sigurd tapped Erlend on the shoulder. "How did you fall in love with Mother?"

"Why ask?"

"It's…" The younger otter rubbed his head. "It's just that happiness starts somewhere, before or after marriage. And I want to know when."

"It all started back in Kaldos, when-" Erlend caught himself. "But you know that. Your mother taught me how to play 'Fox and Geese', and we went from strangers to friends to more than that."

"That would be the secret of romance then." Sigurd smiled. "Board games."

"And food." Erlend smiled at the memory of candied chestnuts. "The more the merrier."

The door to the chamber opened, and a squirrel-herald stumbled through. "Your Majesty, we have an uninvited guest!"

"What?" barked Gudmund while Erlend groaned. Another brown-furred otter sauntered into the room, green eyes gleaming and a grin etched on his muzzle.

He had arrived.

"Oh, it seems that all of you are in the process of enjoying yourselves. Wonderful!" The newcomer clapped his paws. "Why the stern look, brother?"

"Because you were not invited, Lamont," said Erlend, sighing.

"Not invited! Ha!" Lamont Streambattle giggled like a barely-grown pup in front of the entire Tarelian court. He continued, "I'm where I want to be, invitations be damned."

"Then why-"

"Am I here?" Lamont stopped his chuckling and simply smiled. "It's just that we haven't talked for… let's see. Two seasons?"

King Gudmund raised his voice. "The journey from Floret must have taken you days," he said sternly. "You must realise somewhere during your voyage that we could have simply arrested once your two footpaws reach our shores."

"Oh no," replied Lamont. "I come as an emissary. The laws you had sworn to protect and uphold prevent you from laying your paws on me."

"Very well," said the mouseking. "You may stay, but just because you are the uncle of the groom. Do not outstay your welcome, or you shall pay the price."

"Thank you, your Highness." Lamont bowed to the king in his usual exaggerated fashion.

Erlend crossed his paws. "If you are an emissary of sorts, then what is your message?"

"Southsward has no desire for war, but if Tarelis continues to push for it-"

"Then you'll react and return the favour in kind." Erlend sighed. "You know, it's getting a bit cliche, seeing you say that every time."

"I say these things for a reason, Erlend." Lamont's smile faded for a second before growing to full bloom. "But first, let the celebrations resume!"

The room breathed a collective sigh of relief as the partying resumed, while Lamont moved closer to Erlend.

"Apologies for the interruption." The elder otter, reached for the nearest goblet. "To be honest was quite fun, but I have got to work on my timing."

Erlend rolled his eyes. "At least you have not uttered a single Oldspeak quote."

"Can't risk it, brother." Lamont sighed, drinking deep. "I know I'm annoying, but I know you know too. I have every reason to return with my head attached to my body. What wedding present did you give the Shellhearts?"

"Books." answered Erlend. "Alkan will love all those prints."

"Books!" Lamont almost spit out what was left of the wine in his mouth. "A nice present to be sure. Can't buy much else?"

Erlend groaned. Unlike his brother, he was not in any mood to joke around. "Financial troubles don't solve themselves. Taking away Hildrinn from me hurt more than any sword-blow."

"It was never my decision!" Lamont's obnoxious smile finally faded. "That was King Willem."

"And you were the only other beast to benefit from it."

"But your money troubles were never my fault!"

"Well how would you explain-"

"Could you two just remain silent for a few moments?" Sigrid decided to step in. "You've bickered for more than four decades now! Could you stop for a day or two?"

"Sigurd would not want me to throw a fit here. Fine." Erlend took a deep breath. "At least I brought gifts."

"Who said I didn't? Sigurd shall have a season's supply of the best wine the world has to offer. It will take quite a while to get them off the ship, but they're coming here barrel by barrel."

"That's nice, I guess," replied Erlend. "Haven't drunk in ages."

"Couldn't afford good wine?"

"No."

"Ah well." Lamont turned to Sigrid. "You and your husband will have quite a bit of fun," said the otterlord. "And hangovers. Mostly hangovers."

"I know how they feel, thank you very much." Sigrid smiled. Decades may have passed, but her smile was exactly the same way as Erlend remembered it to be.

"You're welcome." Lamont smiled the way Erlend remembered it to be as well - less glad and more mocking and condescending. "Could I have a word with my brother?"

"Don't get into an argument again." She turned away, walking to join her son, who was struggling with a conversation.

"There are rumours about you in Southsward, Erlend," said Lamont quietly.

Erlend frowned. "There always are rumours."

"This one's about us not sharing a father. Another baseless accusation."

"King Willem's out to get me. He's bound to fling every claim, founded or not, to discredit me and take Kaldos for his own." Erlend snorted. "I bet he's going to 'prove' that my Kio was sired by somebeast else soon."

Lamont shook his head. "He's your boy through and through. He's the only beast meeker than you, after all. Still, it's quite bold of you to assume Young Kiordan's safe."

"He's at Redwall," Erlend retorted. "You can't touch him! You won't."

"Not anymore. He's coming to Floret on 'your' orders. It only took a letter and a messenger to bring him out of his little bubble and start performing his lordly duties," said Lamont smugly. "For the right kingdom, that is. And do you know what the best part is?" He pointed a claw at Erlend. "You can't do anything to stop us."

Erlend felt his blood go cold. "The cub's supposed to stay there for the next decade and not get in your way! We talked about this! If you lay a paw on him-"

"I will make sure that your boy's unharmed. He's my kin, after all. Still, you should not have made your seal so easily replicable. You should think twice before you act against Southsward, brother. Lest you regret it."

Chapter Text

The Unheard Horizon

But thoughts, the slave of life, and life, time's fool; and time, that takes survey of all the world, must have a stop. -Hotspur, 'Henry IV, Part I', William Shakespeare

The woods of Mossflower seemed infinite for Kiormund. There was a tree in sight every step the otter took, and there was nothing to do. Not to mention the autumn rains pouring down upon their heads.

"Are we-" Kiormund asked, only to get a paw shoved across his muzzle.

"Shush!" said Graha. "You have asked 'are we there yet' since the day we left." The vixen, as usual, spoke the truth. Kiordan had done nothing but pester her for the largest part of the journey, but the otter simply wasn't suited to long-distance travelling without his kin. Boredom set in quickly.

"Then how long would the remainder of the journey be?"

"Arrrrgh!" Graha screeched. Drenched in rain, the fox looked more like an orange towel than anything resembling a beast. "If it will shut you up for five minutes, then we're a day away! Happy now?"

"More than before," said Kiordan. "Sorry for riling you up. The rain's making everything gloomy."

"It would help a lot if you would kindly shut your trap for once," replied Graha. "You've complained a lot since Day Two."

"I'm sorry for the complaining-"

"And stop APOLOGISING!" Graha took a deep breath, then another. Her tail shook madly. "Three seasons, Kiormund! Three seasons of apologising, and you've never known to stop!"

A tense silence returned to the woods, save for the pitter-patter of rain and the chirping of birds.

"We should probably make camp," said Kiormund. Graha nodded, and unpacking began.

Two beasts could only carry so much, so Kiormund and Graha brought with them only seven days of supplies for a five-day trip. It wasn't that there were lots of beasts who would covet them. After their last disastrous attack on Redwall, vermin marauders would not be threatening travellers for some time. Kiormund could think himself lucky.

The duo got under a tree with quite a bit of shade, as they scrambled out a bit of food. Oatcakes were not glamorous, but they were sturdy and reliable - not to mention light.

"As I was saying, Kiormund," said Graha. "You really need to stop with the apologies."

"Why?"

"Because you're not beholden to anyone." Graha pointed at the otter. "You, Kiordan Gudmund Streambattle, have done nothing wrong. Why apologise?"

"Because it's polite?" asked Kiormund.

"It is not so when you keep on doing it!" exclaimed the vixen. "How do you expect other beasts to take your apologies seriously if you keep making them?"

Kiormund once again felt the urge to apologise, but that did not seem like the best of ideas at the moment. He decided to hold his tongue.

"Oh, and I am sorry for shouting at you earlier. I did not mean for that to happen," said Graha. She smiled at Kiordan, who repaid the favour.

"Now you're the one apologising?" asked Kiormund.

"Oh, shush," the fox replied, then tensed. Her ears turned to the right, and Kiormund gasped. "Something's coming. Or somebeast."

"Can't you-" Kiormund saw Graha's stare, and immediately decided that silence was the best course of action.

A few seconds passed, and Kiormund could hear the rustling of leaves just as well as Graha. It was followed by the squelching sound of pawsteps on mud. Holding his breath, the otter managed to adjust his walking stick into a more defensive position as the fox unsheathed her dagger smoothly - almost too smoothly for a novice of Redwall.

"Who's there?" asked Graha, her voice betraying the first signs of fear.

"Graha?" A faraway voice wandered into Kiormund's ear. "Issat yew?"

"Yes!" shouted the vixen, who decided to give Kiormund a mean stare when she caught the otter responding as well. Twitching, Kiormund apologised. This time Graha didn't complain.

"Yer brought sumbeast wid ya?" the voice, evidently female, replied. "I hear a male! Thought yer was joinin' the Order, Gra!"

Graha crossed her arms. "He is just a friendly companion."

"Pah!" Another vulpine head peeked through the foliage. "Tis nice ter see ye, Gra!"

"It is nice to see you too. Rak!" Graha and the newcomer quickly embraced. She turned to Kiormund. "Kio, this is my sister Rakshasa."

"It's nice to meet you." Kiormund offered a paw, which the second vixen took. "I'm Kiormund."

"Kiormund." Rakshasa smiled as she shook the otter's paw. "'Tis an ottery name alright."

"Wait til you know his full name!" said Graha whimsically. "Come on, this way."

The rain pattered on and on, and it was almost as loud as the two sisters talking.

"And every few months there's a massive feast!" exclaimed Graha with a smile on her face.

"Really?" Rakshasa seemed not to believe her eyes. "I thoughts yer were sending yer letters just 'ter make me jealous!"

The two giggled while Kiormund hollowly mirrored them. To be fair to the vixens, Kiormund would also have much to say once in the company of friends and family.

"So…" Kiormund stuttered, "are we there yet?"

"Knew you would ask!" Graha giggled. "Yes. We are here!"

Through the rain, Kiormund saw a cluster of houses around both banks of the Moss. Watermills turned with the flow of the river, and the faintest gleam of smoke was visible from chimneys.

"Welcome to Mossvale, Kiordan Gudmund Streambattle!"

Kiormund was quite surprised by what Mossvale had to offer. The rain may have driven away most of the inhabitants, but the scale of the settlement was large enough to signify that quite a lot of beasts lived here.

"Come here, Kio!" Graha waved a paw towards a building, and the otter followed her and her sister. While nothing compared to Floret or Wossaham, Mossvale was the largest collection of buildings in one location Kiormund had ever seen in the last three seasons.

"And here it is! The Cushy Tunnel!" Graha smiled at her place of abode. It was a standard two-storey house, not quite the ones typically seen all over Tarelis, but sturdy and strong regardless.

"Sounds like a tavern or an inn," said Kiormund. His legs were sore from days of nonstop travelling, and a rest would be most welcome.

"Dat's cuz it's both!" Rakasha hollered, then rapped on the door.

"Who'sat?" A short fox opened it, and he smiled at the sight of Graha. "Grah! Yore back! Ye've grown taller!" His eyes squinted at Kiormund, who felt himself twitch at his gaze. "An' who in Hellgates did yer bring with' ye?"

Graha pointed at Kiormund. "This is Kio, Father."

"Oh." The dogfox seemed to remember something. "So that's him". He looked up and down. "I thought yer'd be taller."

"And I expected you to smell much more," said Kiormund without thinking. Still, he was quick to realise that everybeast was staring at him. "I meant that as a joke of sorts. I apologise."

Graha rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "If that is the case, there's a distinct lack of comedy in the air, Kiordan Gudmund Streambattle. At last you finally managed to apologise at the right time."

"Iffen ye think we smells so much, let's all go an' take a wash." Graha's father smiled. "Ye otters do like water, don't yer?"

Kiormund looked at his muddy clothes, then nodded. "Thank you for the offer."

Two beasts stood amidst the misty ethereal pines of the Dreamscape. One was an otter with a smile on his muzzle, while the other was a significantly less amused vixen.

Despite what Daghild had taught her about controlling herself, the rage Urza felt towards the otter was not insignificant. Anger can only be bottled up for so long, especially when both of them were technically asleep at the moment.

"You again," said the vixen coldly. "I thought you knew when to quit."

"Of course it's me!" said the otter in comic exasperation. "You expected to meet my daughter Lorelei, but it is me, Kiordan, that shall stand before you today! Or is it tonight? Whatever." He scratched his head. "And I don't believe we've met. Who might you be?"

"You know me."

"Not really." Kiordan rolled his eyes and pointed a claw at Urza. "I do know something about those tattoos of yours. You're from the Juska, aren't you?"

Urza nodded. There was no point in denying that. "You seem to know a lot about things you should not know," she said coldly, suppressing the urge to draw her weapons.

"That brain you possess isn't useless after all! Wonderful! I shall have lots of fun with you." The greying otter clapped his paws in false glee, before his smile suddenly faded like a piece of bread in a room of hares. "Oh, and one thing."

Within a sudden, the rest of him disappeared as well. Urza gasped in surprise as she felt a shiver travel up her spine.

"If you're going to assassinate me, do be more direct." Kiordan's voice emanated from right behind her. "Try to be considerate enough so as to not waste my time."

Urza grabbed her sword and swung, but Kiordan was no longer directly behind her. The vixen grimaced. "Daghild, what is ass-"

"Murdering somebeast famous, Urza." A mole stepped out from the nothingness surrounding both beasts. "Or, in this case, infamous."

"I doubt the vixen cares about the difference, Daghild." Kiordan's stupid grin reappeared, larger than before. "And it scarcely matters. All three of us are not to live long, after all."

"Stop acting like you could will us to death in the Dreamscape, Kiordan," said Daghild. "We both know that's impossible."

"Judging from where we have been and what we have learned, mole, it's quite obvious that the word 'impossible' has lost its meaning somewhere and somewhen." The otter reached out a paw, and a sword popped out right into it. A sword with a red pommel in its hilt.

A twinkle of fear seeped into Daghild's eyes before disappearing, and Urza could feel the worry travel up the bond. "Where did you get your paws on this? Off a warrior's corpse?"

"To tell you the truth, I do not remember. Isangrim did most of the hard work. Maybe you would know if you could fish him out of Hellgates."

"Optimally with you as bait." Daghild winked at Urza. The signal was given, and Urza's blades materialised right beside Kiordan's neck. She commanded them to swing inward, and so they did, cutting through fur, skin, flesh - except they did not, and Kiordan just wasn't there.

The otter materialised a few paces away, with his paws behind his head. "A sublime effort that proved to be useless. Still sublime though." His eyesight shifted towards both of Urza's swords, one after the other. "Finnbarr and Fatch. Interesting. I assume you got this 'off a warrior's corpse' too?"

Daghild cocked her head to the side. "Let's just say it was not attained through the legal procedure of-"

"We stole it," said Urza, earning her an irritated stare from the mole and an amused smirk from the otter.

"Yes," Daghild admitted, "exactly as Urza says."

"You know, you two are fun to talk to," said Kiordan. "But I fear I must depart. You two have fun!" Then suddenly he was gone, back into the world of the waking.

Daghild looked into Urza's eyes and shook her head. They had failed.

Chapter Text

Kindling a Flame

One's reality might be another's illusion. We all live inside our own fantasies. -Itachi Uchiha, Naruto Shippuden

"It should not have been so hard," said Urza. "Kiordan was stronger than Isangrim, but I just didn't expect that much."

"I should not have let my sense of triumph overwhelm my better judgement." Daghild shifted herself into a more comfortable position atop her bed. "After Kiordan, Isangrim almost seemed like he was barely trying."

"Maybe he was."

"I don't think the fake marten wanted to die, Urza." The mole leapt off the bed and stretched her arms. "His plans probably do not involve crawling out of the grave like some monster from a novel."

"That's a pretty good idea." Urza yawned, then continued, "You could write that out."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Too many duties. Council work, being Archivist, having to hide your sorry taIl from prying Southswarder eyes, et cetera. I'm off to work."

"I take it that I'm to head back up North?" asked Urza.

Daghild nodded. "Salamandastron and Lord Eboric await you, as well as Erlend's little pup. Please keep him safe for Southsward."

Urza nodded. "And for you, obviously."

A pathway was opened, and a vixen stepped through. The whole business with Kiordan would have to wait for another night.

There were some places Lorelei would have liked to visit. Aside from the obvious like Redwall Abbey and the mountain fortress of Salamdastron, she had yet to be in the far North, the so-called Lands of Ice and Snow. But there was no place Lorelei would like to revisit. Of course, there were places personally significant to her, like the room she was standing in, but most of her memories were not so exciting.

Her firstborn child was born in the bed she happened to be in. Corrado entered the world screaming, and Lorelei had been sure she would leave it the same way. Fortunately for her, she survived. Lorelei wondered that her survival was just as fortunate for her son.

For Lorelei, the early hours of morning were the best time to start work. Corrado was no longer a squalling child, so her mornings were never disturbed.

There was a knock on the door.

Lorelei quickly rose from the bed and groaned. She was not expecting a visitor - not at this hour. "Enter!" she barked.

"Yes, Your Highness." A gigantic figure shuffled in, bending over the otter-sized doorway.

Lorelei rubbed her eyes, then grimaced as the beast before her was still the same. Wearing a white robe was a wolfess. A wolfess, far from the northern lands where she would expect to see one of their kind. A wolfess in Garlesca of all places. "I'm sorry. Do I know you? And why on earth would the guards let you in?"

"I seemed to have scared them away. They are not accustomed to seeing beasts like me." The wolf dropped down to one knee. "Many apologies, Your Highness. I should not have disturbed you at this hour." Even kneeling down, the wolf was almost at Lorelei's chest's height. Menacing as she was, she seemed to bear no ill will.

"What are you here for, wolf?" asked Lorelei. "Assassins seldom knock on doors. But you've yet to tell me your name."

"Hirsent, Your Majesty," answered the wolfess. "My name is Hirsent. I used to be Isangrim's apprentice before his passing. Your father, the Emperor, asked me to help you with your training in Thaumaturgy."

You're already better at telling the truth than he is. "How old are you?"

"Eighteen seasons, Your Highness."

"How many seasons have you studied Thaumaturgy for?"

"Seven." It was high time that the wolf knew that styles and honorifics get grating over time. "My training could be considered complete."

Lorelei nodded and smiled. "Isangrim never mentioned you," said the otterwife.

Hirsent's tail twitched. "I did not know that," she replied. "Wolves are not supposed to be known in the Southern Realms. I do not have any intention to get myself skinned in Urgan's manner."

"Rest assured that your pelt is under my father's protection. You may rise, Hirsent." The wolfess did as she said, earning her a smile. Not a lot of beasts did.

"May I present to you a gift from your father, Your Highness?" asked Hirsent.

"Yes, you may." Lorelei's whiskers twitched. "Speaking of which, where is my father?"

"Asleep," replied Hirsent. " Just like a log. He took away my exhaustion, and now he is paying the price."

"What are you going to teach me? I have not learnt much from your teacher or my father."

Hirsent smiled. "We're going to start with the theoreticals." She continued, "I doubt anybeast has told you where Thaumaturgy comes from."

Lorelei scoffed. "Father and Isangrim are seldom in expository moods."

"Ah well." The wolfess sighed. "They are not particularly good teachers. May I sit down?"

Lorelei nodded, and Hirsent plopped down onto the bed next to her.

"Have you ever heard of the Dreamscape?" asked the wolfess "Or the World of Dreams."

"No." Lorelei shook her head. "My father never mentioned it."

"The Dreamscape is the crux of all worlds, holding them all together." Hirsent smiled. "Did you know that there are many different worlds?"

"No. My father had never told me that as well."

"He really needs to reveal more about himself." Hirsent took a deep breath. "The world in which we reside is but one of many. There was but one world once, and it thrived. Thaumaturges bent the rules of reality to help those who cannot help themselves. However, disaster struck. We have no way of knowing what happened, but it shattered into pieces innumerable. Only a pawful of worlds survived, and only one retained the memory of Thaumaturgy. Your father was fortunate enough to learn from an inhabitant of that world, and he has become a Conjurer. In turn, he taught Isangrim to be a Sorcerer, and I think you know the rest."

"What about the Dreamscape?"

"The Dreamscape is what binds the Shards of the original world together. It's a parallel world," explained Hirsent. "When you sleep, you descend into the Dreamscape, and what you dream becomes reality, at least until you wake up. Dreams are real, and by tapping into dreams, reality can itself be changed solely because you will it to be so."

"So Bonding and Pathway-making can be done in the real world just because you can do it in a dream?" asked Lorelei. And I thought Corrado was the curious one.

"That's a simplified explanation, but let's go with that. I always tell Isangrim that the first thing a teacher does is tell the truth and lie at the same time."

Lorelei smiled. She liked the wolfess already. "You're not exactly wrong."

"Of course, one can die in the Dreamscape, as Isangrim demonstrated." Hirsent bit back a bitter chuckle. "Dying there means dying here."

"How exactly did he die?"

Hirsent shook her head. "I am not sure. It is likely that he was taken unaware."

"Serves him right then," said Lorelei smugly.

"It isn't wise to speak ill of the dead, Your Highness," said the vixen, the lustre in her voice fading. "It is especially unwise to speak ill of one once close to me."

"I apologise," said Lorelei, quickly taking the hint.

"You didn't mean it. I see." A wan smile reappeared on Hirsent's face. "In any case, you would have to be aware that strenuous activity in the Dreamscape brings about a decrease in sleep quality. It would not be prudent to descend on the eve of some important noble function."

"You have an excellent grasp on vocabulary, young wolf," said Lorelei. "Isangrim must have taught you well."

"You would have your father to thank." Hirsent then reached into her pocket and scrambled out a ring. "This is an Amplifier. It allows for manipulation of Thaumaturgy in the world of the waking. Go on. Put it on a claw. It should fit perfectly."

Lorelei slipped the golden band on her right paw. There was no sudden glow of light, no immediate warmness, no foreign language popping up on the ring.

"I know it is underwhelming. Isangrim told me that your father reacted very much the same way."

"My father used this?"

Hirsent's mouth curled up once more. "A long, long time ago. Before Isangrim's training was even completed." Her smile disappeared with an efficiency that would make Isangrim proud. "Now, he has a much more powerful Amplifier that he may or may not be qualified to wield."

"May or may not?" asked Lorelei, earning a smile in answer.

"Who knows what he's doing behind our backs?"

"Not dying, for one." The crackling of a Pathway could be heard, and from it emerged Lorelei's father, still in his nightclothes and rubbing his eyes.

"I was not expecting you to appear, Your Majesty." Hirsent bowed before Kiordan, who swiftly gestured to her to quit with the formalities.

"Neither did Daghild, apparently," said the emperor. "Anyway, I just went into the Dreamscape to measure her up. And I gotta say...nice."

"Nice?" asked Lorelei. "I don't see why getting yourself almost killed would be 'nice' in any manner."

"You wouldn't understand the thrill!" Kiordan whined like a little pup asking his mother to let him go for a swim. Just like Corrado.

"I don't want to interrupt you," said Lorelei, "But I would just like to remind you that your apprentice just died, Father. It's just not the right time to give yourself a thrill."

"I doubt Isangrim would mind," said Kiordan. Hirsent shot him a glare. "Or maybe he would. Who knows?."

"You could have died in there!" snapped Lorelei. "Just like Isangrim!" Her eyes turned to Hirsent, then back to Kiordan. "And unlike him, more than two beasts have a high opinion of you!"

"Oh, I can assure you that I won't be killed off yet." Kiordan smirked. "My tale continues, and I presume yours does as well. Nox's whim protects me."

"Nox?" asked Lorelei.

Kiordan turned towards the wolfess. "You never told her?"

Hirsent shook her head. "We only talked for minutes. I never reached the metaphysical stuff."

Turning back to Lorelei, Kiordan sighed. "I'd like to start off by saying that what I say is not infallible. I could be very wrong here."

"That's not exactly news to me," interrupted Lorelei.

"Wait, really?" asked Kiordan in his usual over-the-top manner. Seeing that his sarcasm had once again failed to draw any sort of reaction from his daughter, the otter rolled his eyes. "Anyway, this is another one of my closely-guarded secrets, so don't wag your tongue at everybeast, alright?"

"If you would promise to keep as few secrets to yourself as possible."

Kiordan's whiskers twitched at his daughter's statement and exchanged a quick glance at Hirsent. "Done." He grinned. "I'm quite glad that you're stopping to obey me mindlessly. I don't want you to be a mere pushover." He took a deep breath. "Anyway, The truth is that our world is a well-crafted fabrication by some entity that we creatively dubbed Nox."

"A fabrication?" asked Lorelei.

Hirsent put one of her massive paws on the otterwife's shoulder. "Worry not, Your Highness. I was quite confused the first time I heard this as well."

"Some say that this world is based on a play. Others say a song, or a book. It matters not - we are not as real as we would think ourselves to be." Kiordan smirked. "After all, we're just fictional characters, to be savoured by some other entity that we have decided to call Lux."

"Lux." asked Lorelei. It meant 'Light' in Oldspeak. "Why Lux?"

"There is no way for this dark mess of a plot to be illuminated - not without the presence of a very special beast." Kiordan pointed forward, as if he recognised some old acquaintance in front of him. "The Reader."

Chapter Text

Shapeless Melody

"Surprising what you can dig out of books if you read long enough, isn't it?" -Rand al'Thor, The Shadow Rising by Robert Jordan

"What reader?" asked Lorelei.

"Gah! You don't understand!" Kiordan lifted his arms in exasperation, earning himself a little chuckle from Hirsent.

"I do, as a matter of fact," said Lorelei. "I highly doubt that there's always a pair of eyes watching us do, you know, anything."

"It could not be a pair of eyes," replied Hirsent. "Could be just one."

"Or none. Or three." Kiordan gave Hirsent a nudge, plopping himself onto the bed between his daughter and the wolfess. "Lux might not need eyes at all."

"Whatever. I couldn't care less about this." Lorelei yawned. Having long, drawn-out conversations with parents and lupines proved to be tiresome.

"Oh, and I would like you to do something," said Kiordan. "It would take you less than a day."

"Oh no." grumbled Lorelei. "Just no. I've got things to do. Besides, I'm quite sick of you asking me to do mysterious things for even more mysterious motives."

"Quite understandable. It's just that someone has to check on my namesake back in Redwall Abbey. Three years of the superlative worldly pleasures can change a beast."

"And you're asking me to do that for you?" asked Lorelei. "I thought you were well inclined to 'worldly pleasures'."

"I fear such a trip would be detrimental to my health." Kiordan looked at himself. "I'm not young anymore, you know. Limbs grow soft, the mind grows useless, et cetera, et cetera. Besides, you can then indulge in a few mother-son bonding activities that you owe your boy."

"I'll go then." Lorelei shot her father a glare. "Provided that you will finish my mountain of paperwork for me. And that you let me take Hirsent with me. And that you are never going to give me vague missions without telling me your motivations."

Kiordan stood up and made his way to the door. "Consider it done. Tell me when you're rested and ready. Oh, and you probably need a change in clothing as well."

"Understood." Lorelei nodded.

"Then it's off to paperwork with me. Farewell." said Kiordan, whose devilish grin returned with a sudden. "Oh, and to be continued." He chuckled. "I've always wanted to say that."

"So which way is Redwall Abbey?" asked Lorelei.

"It would probably be the direction in which there exists at least one visible structure," explained Hirsent. "Abbeybeasts love their belltowers."

As if on cue, the sound of bells erupted from the other side of Mossflower woods. Eight bells tolled, one for each hour of the day that had passed.

"So it's that way!" chirped Hirsent, who broke into a run in the direction of the chiming.

"Not so fast, Hirsent," said Lorelei. The wolf stopped, and Lorelei walked up to her. "Do you think the Redwallers would take well to a wolf they've never seen before, screaming about having to see one of the most esteemed visitors?"

"No, Your Highness." Hirsent sheepishly shook her head.

"Then walk slowly so that I can keep up with you," said Lorelei, approaching the wolf. "That would probably help with recognition. After all, it's quite normal for a mother to visit her wayward son."

"But would your wayward son want you here?" asked Hirsent.

"What do you mean by that?"

"The fledgeling decides to flee the nest only after their wings have grown." recited Hirsent. "Your father told Isangrim that when you decided that, to quote, he 'was a rubbish father after all'."

"That was when I was sixteen!" grumbled Lorelei. "Do you think I could think clearly at that age?"

"Your son was just fourteen when he decided to pop over to Redwall Abbey without your permission. Do you think you were able to make him think clearly?"

"Whatever." Lorelei hid a grimace. "Redwall's just across the treetop. Why didn't you just open up one of your Pathways within the gates?"

"Before any Thaumaturge makes a Pathway to a location, they must have been there at least once." Hirsent smiled. "That, and the inhabitants would probably panic."

As if on cue, a voice boomed from the ramparts of the Abbey. "Who are you and what are you doing here? And is that a wolf?"

"I am Lorelei, mother of Kiordan Streambattle, and I am here to visit my son," Lorelei shouted back. "And yes, this is a wolf."

"And are you sure she won't hurt anyone inside our walls?" asked the voice from the walls.

"Yes!" shouted Lorelei. "Now let us in!"

The watchbeast atop the walls turned to another inside the walls, and Lorelei found herself tapping a footpaw. A long minute passed before the great doors of Redwall were opened, and both visitors stepped through.

"Whoa," said Hirsent in what was most likely her first overt show of emotion. "This is Redwall Abbey? It's bigger on the inside than it is on the outside! My understanding of physical space has been completely flipped on its side! Physical reality has been totally-" The wolf flustered when she realised that Lorelei was staring at her. "Apologies. I was just emulating Isangrim."

"That does sound like something he would say," Lorelei remarked.

A tall otter stumbled out of the Abbey doors, clothed in the green robes of a Redwall Brother. "Good morning. I know nothing of styles and noble titles, so I apologise for my crudeness."

"It's fine," said Lorelei. "I presume you must be the Abbot."

The otter nodded. "I'm Abbot Cuthbert, yes."

"Thank you very much for looking after my son, Abbot Cuthbert." Lorelei saw Cuthbert tense. Something was wrong. "Is he indisposed?"

"Not indisposed." Cuthbert shook his head. "Departed."

Lorelei could feel her heart skip a beat. "Then where is he?"

"He's on his way back home."

Lorelei tried and failed to hold in a gasp. The roads in Mossflower were plagued with vermin, and if Kio was on his way home… "Is he safe? Did you make sure he's safe?"

"Ye've my word that he will be fine. He's going with a friend to Salamandastron, and he'll probably catch a ship to Floret."

"Floret," fumed Lorelei. "Floret. Right into the paws of the Southswarders." She turned to the Abbot. "And I thought his father was stupid!"

"His father told him to return, in fact." Abbot Cuthbert let out a sigh. "If I only knew it was a stupid move, I would have stopped it."

"It was not your fault, Father Abbot," said Hirsent.

Ignoring the interruption, Lorelei nodded. "It's all to do with Erlend."

A realisation hit the abbot. "You don't like your husband, do you?"

"I do not care for him," answered Lorelei.

"Perhaps that's why Kiormund never talked about ye and Erlend much. The pup always tried to deflect my questions about his parents." Abbot Cuthbert pointed at the Abbey proper. "Perhaps we could discuss this over a cup of tea."

"Might as well."

"Ye didn't raise your son, did ya?"

Abbot Cuthbert's ottery accent was too much for Lorelei, and she thought it would be better for the both of them if he were to remain silent. But alas, she could do nothing but listen and sip tea as the sea otter spoke on and on.

"So in the end, I don't think your son has a high opinion of you." Cuthbert put down his cup. "But I've never heard yore side of the story."

"I wasn't there for most of his childhood," said Lorelei. "He was raised by my mother and a family friend. As for his father, the less said about him, the better."

"Don't ye - don't ye feel bad about abandoning Kiormund?" asked the Abbot.

"Sometimes. Kiord-" Lorelei corrected herself. "Kiormund never spoke up about it. You do call him Kiormund, right?"

"Yes," said Cuthbert. "He was quite insistent about not being called his full name. Did ye come up with it?"

"That was Erlend."

Cuthbert sighed. "Were ye even involved in his life after his birth?" A tense silence enveloped the air, both otters too embarrassed to speak another word. Finally, the abbot broke the deadlock.

"I understand. Yore a very busy lady, and ye've got duties to see to. Just remember this one thing." The Abbot of Redwall lifted a claw. "If Kiormund needs anyone to take care of him, there's always an Abbey available. Our doors're open to all who mean well."

"I shall keep that in mind." Lorelei nodded, then took a sip from her cup. The tea was not bad.

"Would you please be quiet? I'm trying to find something to read," said Hirsent, to the consternation of the grey squirrel sitting around in the library quarters.

"No! You can't just take books from the library without my permission!" The squirrel cried out, while trying to keep his distance from the quite menacing wolf. Black fur, red eyes and a truly massive physique could produce the greatest fear for a beast that had seldom stepped out of the walls of Redwall Abbey.

"Oh! Sorry, but I don't believe we've met. Who might you be?"

The wolf's words managed to send the squirrel into a frenzy. "I am Brother Leonard, Recorder of Redwall Abbey, and I will not be belittled by an uneducated vermin!"

"Uneducated?" Hirsent giggled. "I wouldn't call myself that, Brother Leonard. In fact, one could argue that wolves aren't really vermin at all, but that's not the point."

"Then what's the point?" asked the squirrel, this time less angry and more intrigued.

"The point is that you woodlanders never give vermin a chance. Loamhedge did. Redwall did too, in the early days, but now it's all gone to pot."

"But Loamhedge fell," said the Recorder, "brought down by a vermin plague."

"I don't think vermin intentionally carried the plague to Loamhedge, Brother Leonard. After all, they were the first to suffer."

"Then why did woodlanders fall sick and die in droves?"

"Maybe you could have considered that sanitary practices back then were not sufficient to keep diseases at bay?" said Hirsent.

"Well, that could be the case," Leonard smiled. "You know, you're much better than Graha."

"Graha?"

"Vixen. Studies with Kiormund. Not that bright."

Hirsent shook her head. "I would give her a chance if I were you. Now, would you give me some time alone with my book?"

Brother Leonard nodded, then quickly shifted back into his seat at the corner of the Library. Hirsent took a deep breath and entered the world of the past. The book was about a time where mice warriors roamed the earth and wildcats ruled over the land she was in. As pages were turned and an ever-impressive cast of characters were killed off, Hirsent thought to herself.

What if things had been changed back then?

What if the presence of a single beast, at the wrong place and the wrong time, could render the world radically dissimilar from the world they knew now?

What if the river of time was dammed up, and its course was changed?

The wolf read on with a smile on her muzzle, thinking of pasts and futures.

Chapter Text

Rivalry and Revelry

Dawn turns to day
And the dawning
Daytime, nighttime
And we still can't see
Why must we wait until the morning light
To wake up and be

-lyrics of 'No Opportunity Necessary, No Experience Needed', by Yes

Redwall was a giant waste of time, and Lorelei would be glad never to come here again.

It took a while to coax Hirsent out of the Library, but here she was, standing together with the otter at the gates of the great abbey of the North.

"So have you found where Kiormund is at the moment?" asked the wolf.

Lorelei nodded. "Salamandastron. Can you just, you know, open something to the mountain?"

"I haven't been there," replied Hirsent. "We have to go there the long way round, and that would take too long." The wolf looked at the Abbey one last time, the sun setting over its belltower. "I would rather slip away as quickly as I can before those Redwallers drag us in for one of their feasts. Just like Isangrim, I prefer to have control over my time. Now, I think your father would like you to-"

"Tell him to wait."

"Hm?"

Lorelei crossed her arms. "I've got to find my husband. He has a lot to account for. Taking our - my son to the furthest reaches of the civilised world, then telling him to come back on his own." She groaned. "He's a fool amongst fools, and when I meet him I'm going to beat the-"

Hirsent gave a little cough, and Lorelei found it wise to be silent.

"Alright then," said the wolfess. "Have fun with Lord Erlend. In the meantime, I shall return home. Farewell." With a bow, she turned and sauntered through a Pathway of her making.

Lorelei frowned for a second. The wolf sounded exactly like Isangrim.

But who could blame her? The not-marten had taught her everything she knew, though he must have been shifty enough to keep more than a few secrets. He must have been like a father to the girl - and Lorelei did not have to be a genius to know that he would make for a bad father. It was a miracle that Hirsent turned out as well-adjusted as she was.

The otter shook her head and walked through her own Pathway. She ought not overthink.

It was high time Erlend visited Marratz for the third time.

He had first been there to visit Lord Fermin with his mother, when he was but a mere adolescent. The squirrelord was a kindly beast, and often took the time to show Erlend around the city despite his gout.

The second time, he had been there to arrange a marriage between Fermin's son and some Southswarder princess. If he had succeeded, maybe Tarelis and Southsward would not be at each other's throats, and he would not have his brother tailing him.

"Nice place, hm?" asked Lamont, earning a groan from Erlend.

"Yes." They were in one of the least luxurious castles in the whole realm, but it was also here where he had spent his first vacation with his wife. The town may have been crude, cramped and crawling with corsairs, but the shared memories with Sigrid were worth it. "I trust you can keep your mouth shut for a few minutes, correct?"

"Why should I?" Lamont asked again, making Erlend discover a desire to punch his brother right in the muzzle. "Being silent is no fun. Ever tried not talking for an entire day?"

"No," answered Erlend.

"I tried. I lost a bet, and my muzzle was sealed for the day. No talking to friends, family, you know the drill. It was quite embarrassing, to be honest."

"It must be awful for you, not talking." Erlend rolled his eyes. "Ever tried not talking for an entire minute? Heard it's not as hard as a day."

Lamont chuckled. "Heh. Got me there."

"Lord Erlend." A guardsmouse poked her snout out from a doorway. "Is that you?"

"Yes. I take it that Lord Erramun would like to see me."

"Actually, he would rather talk to your brother."

"I see." said Erlend, who then gave his brother a hard stare. "What did you do now?"

"You know full well."

It took a few seconds for Erlend to register that his brother was dead serious.

"Pirates, Erlend, Pirates." fumed Lamont. "A thorn in our side for the last century, and everybeast's turning a blind eye to them!"

"Technically-" Erlend could only pronounce one word before Lamont shoved a claw in front of his mouth.

"Privateers. Yes. I know that. But they simply work the same way. You wait for helpless fisherbeasts and traders to show up. You slaughter them and take their belongings. You park your ship in Marratz, and spend all your ill-gotten coin on provisions, alcohol and pleasurable company, worsening the relationship between our two kingdoms in the process. And then you repeat the process."

"I doubt common sailors know the difference, brother."

Lamont rolled his eyes. "Then you Tarelians should let them know - right before you break them on the wheel!"

"Surely that's a bit excessive?"

"There isn't a better way to deal with such filth," said Lamont. "Now, I should depart, and hopefully get this little tumour plucked out. Then I'll make my way back to Floret alone."

The older otterlord turned back to his brother. "Oh, and sorry about the whole business with your son. Just know that he'll be in safer paws."

Erlend decided that saying nothing in return was the appropriate response.

WIthin the span of one day, Kiormund was transformed from a filthy traveller to a squeaky-clean otter.

Still, he could not stop kicking himself mentally. How had he expected an inn, vermin or not, to not have a bath system? If they did not happen to have one, Abbot Cuthbert would have a few things to say about that.

Now, he was an esteemed guest at the table of a family of vermin. This was nothing new to Kiormund - he had broken bread with ferrets before, long before the idea of heading to Redwall was even put in his head. Like the ferrets, Graha's family knew what table manners were. Unlike the ferrets, they were not used to obeying them.

"So do you use the small pitchfork here, or do you use it in your other paw?" asked Graha's father, trying to hold a fork with a mere two claws. Kratak was his name, and so far he had shown much kindness to Kiormund, despite the otter putting his footpaw in his mouth earlier that day.

"You are holding it in the right paw, father," said Graha, grabbing a wooden fork herself. "But you're supposed to hold it within the palm of your paw like this."

Kratak finally shifted his paw around the fork in the correct manner, earning himself a little cheer from Graha and a sigh of relief from Kiormund.

"So what do you think of Mossvale, Kio?" asked Rakshasa.

"It's a very nice place!" responded Kiormund, placing a little bit of fish into his mouth. "You know, I've always wanted to be here, visiting new places."

"Is that why you are here in Mossflower in the first place?" asked Graha. "First you have been stuck in the South, then you came here, then-"

"Why are you here in the first place?" asked Graha's mother, a red vixen called Dusha.

"I've always heard that Redwall Abbey was a place of learning, fellowship and food," confessed Kiormund. "Being stuck in the South gets grating after a while."

"From what I have heard, it does seem boring down there," said Graha. "Why?"

"Huh?"

"There must be some reason why you have no love for your home."

"Nobody likes one another back there!" moaned Kiormund. "You can't trust anyone! Everyone who does good to you probably has a reason to do so."

"Don't you have friends?" asked Dusha.

"You can't live without them," her mate chimed in.

"I grew up with the Shellhearts, but they were just a bit strange," said Kiormund. "They're nice beasts, but they're Tarelians."

"The beasts who enslave our kind, right?" asked Graha.

Kiormund nodded. "No sane fox would like to stay with them for more than two seconds."

A quick silence was followed by a question from Rakshasa. "Then did you make any sort of vermin friends?"

"Well, there was one," said Kiormund. "His name's Egil. He's a fun ferret, always loving a good talk and a good wrestle." The otter closed his eyes, thinking of times past. "He was… rather physical, I suppose."

"Was he a good friend?"

Kiormund smiled. Egil asked him a similar question three seasons ago. "Yes. Yes he is."

Under normal circumstances, adjudication was one of the more boring parts of governance, but such things were only to be expected when one ruled over a continent. Granted, it was a small continent, but Kiordan was not in the mood to be picky.

After a business transaction went awry, some squirrel and his foul tongue decided to stir up old tensions between woodlander and vermin, and after a brawl in the Wossaham marketplace, a ferret lay dead, his body occupying a few feet on the floor of the emperor's palace.

He had thought of giving the rodent a fair trial, and then sending him off to Hellgates legally or otherwise, but it turned out that was not necessary. The squirrel boasted of what he had done in front of the entire court, adding one more to the list of beasts that had taken Kiordan by surprise.

"We take it that you admit your guilt?" asked Kiordan.

The accused creature stood tall and strong before Kiordan, but behind his posturing was not a single shred of intelligence. The emperor may have reserved some sort of pity for the squirrel, if not for what he had done.

"Guilt? Ha! There is no guilt involved in insulting a ferret." The squirrel rambled on and on, but the emperor had the same interest in listening to him as remembering his name, which was to say not at all.

Kiordan waited for the squirrel to finish, his eyes turned to the corpse that laid before his hall. The ferret was mangled beyond measure, and was recognisable as little more than a bloody heap. "This is clearly more than just a matter of insults and broken prides. Murder requires a heavy price, does it not?"

"He deserved-" The squirrel's excuse was cut short by a single word from Kiordan.

"Enough." Fury bloomed in the otter's eyes. "From now on, you are outlawed in our empire. All that is yours falls to us, and you will leave this realm free as a bird. Guards, take this pathetic, useless beast away." The armoured beasts in the room, a fox and a mouse, were quick to wrench the squirrel's paws from behind him.

"You would regret all this, vermin-kisser! Time would judge-" The squirrel spoke no more as the mouseguard clamped a paw over his mouth.

Kiordan chuckled. It was bold of him to imply that the Emperor did not rule over time itself. Still, he had little evidence for that.

The crowds by his sides dispersed as Kiordan's laughs dissipated into a silent cackle. He was getting old, and the seasons have not been kind to him. Now, he had nothing to do but rule, and he was not the only one to know that he wasn't that good at doing so. Outliving your enemies was a useless strategy if their successors happened to be just as competent, and hate your guts just as much. Daghild was at least kind enough to provide some entertainment to accompany him on his final steps, but like any self-respecting emperor, he would have to start seriously planning out his legacy.

It was a pity that he was no good at planning.

A Pathway opened from Kiordan's left, and Hirsent stepped out, still in her outdoor clothes. "Your daughter's left me to set off on her own."

"To where?"

"To find her husband. She blames him for your grandson's departure from Redwall."

"His what?" It took a while for Kiordan to reclaim his composure. "Has he left?"

"Yes," answered the wolf. "Now he's somewhere in Mossflower, finding his way to Floret. I don't know his exact location, so I cannot 'swoop in and grab him', as you would put it."

"Floret, hm?" The old otter sniffed the air in front of him. "Yes. Smells of Daghild and her foxy friend." He stood up from his chair. "Leave little Kio to me. In the meantime, do watch over Lorelei from the Dreamscape. Don't let yourself be discovered. And one more thing." Kiordan's lips curled up in a bitter smile. "Please don't pull an Isangrim and die on me. Promise me."

Chapter Text

Departure and Arrival

The bards sing of love, they celebrate slaughter, they extol kings and flatter queens, but were I a poet I would write in praise of friendship.

-'The Winter King', by Bernard Cornwell

Kiormund checked his bags one last time. After using up the bulk of supplies on his way to Mossvale, he had managed to resupply himself and Graha. There were not a lot of shops in the town, but Kratak always found a way to acquire the necessary foodstuffs for the remaining four days of their journey to Salamandastron. Hoisting up his sacks, he turned to Graha, who nodded at him in return. They were ready to leave.

Transporting everything down the Cushy Tunnel's flight of stairs took the pair a few minutes, but at long last all the travel supplies were on the ground floor of the inn. It was a few seconds before Graha's parents showed up.

"Thank you for the hospitality, Mister Kratak and Miss Dusha," said Kiormund. "I had a very enjoyable time at your house, and I hope to come here again."

Rakshasa poked her head out from a doorway. "I'm sure dat woul' happen sooner dan ya tink!" exclaimed the vixen, earning a chuckle from her sister.

"Whatever happens, we'll be glad ter welcome ya." Kratak chimed in. "Jus' dun forget the way here!"

"I'll keep that in mind." Kiormund smiled. "I just have to follow the smell of good cooking!"

"Dere's more fwr ya next time!" Dusha patted her husband's stomach. "Three seasons of inn life has almost made our guts burst!"

Kiormund decided not to speak his mind. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"In any case, Salamandastron awaits!" shouted Graha. "I'll see all of you again in ten days or so! And Kiormund will see you by then!"

"Of course! We'll be happy to see you too!"

"So, Graha?" asked Kiormund.

"Yes?" replied the vixen. They were on one of the better westward paths to Salamandastron, and the mountain fortress would be in sight in three days.

"How was your life before Redwall?"

Graha stared at the otter as if some cruel beast decided to throw a pie at her face. "You've never asked me that before."

"Well, we are going to leave each other in a few days, so…" Kiormund twiddled his claws, pondering what to say. "I figured that I should be asking what questions I have left."

The vixen stopped marching off towards the horizon, and she turned to Kiormund, who proceeded to do the same. "I should just say that being in a horde was not easy. Not at all."

"What did you have to do?"

"You know, the usual. Washing clothes, cooking, foraging. I hated it," spat Graha. "All of it. There was one time where I was off picking berries, and then some otters saw me, and-"

"Goodness! That must have been horrifying for you!"

"It was! I dropped everything and ran back to the camp as quickly as possible, and told my father all about it."

"Didn't the otters chase you?"

"For some reason, no! I kept looking back, but I saw nobeast following me!"

Kiormund's whiskers twitched. "And you still ran?"

"I was panicking, Kio. I do not think anyone can think clearly in that state, you least of all." Seeing Kiormund frown, Graha's ears drooped. "That was harsh. I apologise."

"It's nothing," replied Kiormund. "I never really pictured you fighting to keep your place within a horde. I want to ask more, but I understand that you would not want to tell me everything I want to know."

"Let us keep it that way." Graha's whiskers shook, then she started walking once more.

Something struck Kiormund. He should not have rushed into asking questions that need not be answered - not at the moment. His grandfather had always stated that all questions have answers, but would beasts give the answers to him, or would he have to find them out himself? Or would he be doomed to not know anything?

The otter snapped back to reality and ran after the vixen.

Badgerlord Eboric was accustomed to dreams.

Some of them were about his parents, who ruled this mountain in the seasons before he had grown to adulthood. Some of them were about futures that had come to pass, or ones that never would. Some of them were about food.

But this one was strange. Some older badgerlord just decided to show up, and tell him quite plainly that the beast that would eventually end his life was making their way to him.

Fair enough.

Many a beast had been undone by fear of death before, and Rathor had no interest in joining their ranks. After all, superstition had been the bane of many a beast, most of them vermin. Anybeast could kill another, and Rathor's predecessors have fallen under the blades of invaders, right up to Boar the Fighter. Being a Badgerlord meant that he spent his life preparing for a violent death.

So why was he still afraid?

"Kiormund! Kiormund!"

The otter grunted as his sight returned to him, fuzzy at first. Kiormund could scarcely see any sort of light, and he concluded that it was still dark. So why was Graha waking him up?

"I heard beasts! They are coming towards us!"

"Huh?" Kiormund heard the grass next to them move. "Could it just be the-"

"My ears are better than yours, otter!" snarled the fox. "There are voices out there! And you could see the torches, can you?"

Kiormund shook his head, then gasped. Light pierced through the shadows around them, and his legs buckled. "Show yourself, vermin!" A gruff voice boomed out from the grass, and a few otters - armed otters.

"You- you- you're the Rogue Crew, right?" stammered Graha.

"Yes!" said the head otter. "We are the Rogue Crew, terror of vermin everywh- Kiormund?" The otter quickly grabbed Graha by the neck! "Who are you and what have you done with this otter?"

"Niall, stop!" shouted Kiormund! "She's my friend!"

"What?" The crewbeast dropped Graha and the vixen caught her breath. "An otter, friends with a fox? That's certainly a tale I would tell to my pups. Are ye sure yore the same beast that visited us two seasons ago?"

"I am still Kiormund! And I can promise you that Graha here's my friend!"

Niall crossed his arms. "Then what are ye doing here?"

"I'm going back home," said Kiormund. "It is hard to leave Graha, Redwall Abbey and all of Mossflower, but I have had a good time here in mossflower."

"I still don't believe this so-called friendship." Niall gestured to one of his beasts, who almost dropped his spear. "This is Randalin. He will bring ye two to Salamandastron. Judgin' by her lack of weapons. It may only be a day's walk away, and I doubt this 'Graha' is a threat to ye or anybeast else, but I'm not taking any chances. "

Randalin spoke next. "If you decide t' hurt anyone, I'll stab you repeatedly. Understan'?"

Graha nodded frantically. "Yes! Yes, I do. Now can we please be on our way?"

"Well, with Randalin of all beasts accompanying you, I'm sure you'll be happy to arrive at your destination safe and sound," replied a sour-faced otter. "Absolutely nothin' to be scared of, little vixen."

"Frodnar?" The interrupting otter suddenly looked at Niall. "I'm sure you'll be just as willin' t' accompany Randalin. To 'give 'em somethin' t' be scared of', so as to speak."

Frodnar grumbled and nodded, as Kiormund saw Graha hold in a grin.

"Kiormund?"

"What?" Kiormund's eyes opened. The last thing he remembered doing was falling asleep, and now he was face-to-face with Graha.

"It's only a few hours to the mountain, sleepyhead!" The vixen grinned. "I think we should wake up a bit earlier, just to ditch the planktails."

Kiormund rubbed his eyes and saw yellow. The forest had given way to flatlands yesterday, and the mountain was already in sight. He recalled wanting to rush towards Salamandastron, but Graha told him that it was not exactly safe to travel at night. "So sleeping here was-"

"A trap for the two dumb otters, right." Graha quietly grabbed her travel bags while Kiormund scrambled up. "They have done nothing but bicker with each other ever since we left the crew, and I do not think either of them wants to see me reach Redwall with all four limbs attached to my torso."

Kiormund nodded, slinging his pack over his shoulder. "So that's why you took the final watch! But what will happen on your return trip? Ditching these two would surely raise a few eyebrows."

Graha pointed in the mountain's direction."Ah, I'll just ask Lord Eboric for a bit of help."

"But you don't know him! To him, you're just some vermin!"

"Some vermin that is about to become the first non-woodlander Sister of Redwall Abbey," said Graha. "I'm sure His Lordship would understand."

"State your business!" Kiormund and Graha looked up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice and saw two hares.

"Er… travelling?" Kiormund could feel his rudder tremble. Being surprised in his sleep two times in two nights was not his proudest achievement, and the otter found himself praying that a third incident would not occur.

"With a fox?" asked the other hare, a female unlike her comrade.

"And two otters that are much taller than you are?" the first one decided to ask another question.

Kiormund looked at Graha, who shrugged, and at the two otters, who continued snoring. Then he turned back to the two hares and nodded.

"You talk little for an otter." The female Patroller spoke, eyesight shifting from Kiormund to Graha. "And you, fox. Would you be kind enough to give your name?"

The vixen remained calm, unlike her trembling friend. "I am Graha and this otter here is Kiormund. What is yours?"

The male hare pointed a claw at himself. "I am Private Patrick, while this lass here's Emma. Also a Private. Where are you travelling to again?"

"Salamandastron," answered Kiormund. "It's probably where you two are from, right?"

"Correct," said Emma. "What are the otters doing there? They look like Crewbeasts. Bally rotters, these otters." She glanced apologetically at Kiormund. "Begging your pardon."

One of the two otters - Kiormund did not know which - suddenly sat up, startling Kiormund and drawing quite the expression from his vixen friend. "Yeah. We're Crewbeasts."

"Randalin!" growled Frodnar, standing up just as suddenly. "Now isn't the time to drop the charade!"

"What do ye mean isn't the time? That was perfect timin'!"

"Perfect, my tail! Don't you see-"

"They have been doing this for the last day," Graha remarked in Emma's ear. "It is quite grating to be honest."

"Sounds just like home, then." The private laughed, patting her comrade on the back. "Now, how about we go back to the mountain?"

"You'll be taking care of the vermin then." Frodnar shakily stood up, crossing his arms. "If so, then we're off and good riddance. Farewell." He and his companion then proceeded to walk off.

"Can't believe that you're the most normal otter here, Kiormund," Patrick said, chuckling. "Now let's see the mountain, shall we?"

Chapter Text

Seafaring, Shadows and Salamandastron

The sea, the sea, the sea. It rolled and rolled and called to me. Come in, it said, come in. -'The Wanderer', Sharon Creech

Dennol loved the sea. This love was the only worthwhile thing his parents, being the stereotypical vermin pirates, had granted to him before their untimely demise.

The Southswarders took him from the wreckage of a corsair ship at the age of twelve, prying him from the paws of his sister. Somehow, she ended up with him in Floret after much pleading. The little marten Dennol never comprehended why they were alive when so many were dead, and part of him still wished he wasn't.

It turned out that some woodlander kingdom was recruiting soldiers to fight against some other woodlander kingdom while yet another woodlander empire looked on from the other side of the sea. Thus, Dennol had been taught how to wield a weapon and how to swing a shield, and he could say for sure that he wasn't any good at it. At least his superiors were kind enough to teach him how to read and write.

"Salamandastron. Mountain of the fire lizard, huh?" Dennol winced at the voice, turning away from the ocean to face an otter. If there was a single beast on the Aureous Gale who could embody the word 'annoying', Bodvar Sparkflame was that beast. The marten never knew what persuaded his sister to ever fancy him, but he was also wise enough to not seek an answer.

"That's what the Captain told you, right?" Dennol responded, rolling his eyes and turning his head to face the otter. "She just loves her exposition."

"I'd be more concerned about her somniloquy if I were you," replied Bodvar.

"Somn- what?"

"Talking in one's sleep." The otter proceeded to ramble on and on about how much he had read for his healer exams, and how he should not have failed them, but Dennol was not in any mood to listen to Bodvar's ramblings. Instead, the marten turned back to the sapphire tides of the Western Sea. The waters here were mesmerising. They smelt quite differently than the Middle Sea back at home, and they seemed cleaner as well. More importantly, they were at peace, without cogs and barques and carracks blocking the way, their crews hollering obscene phrases at each other.

Dennol was surprised by a paw suddenly finding its way to his shoulder, gasping as he whipped his head towards the right. Captain Urza was not an imposing beast physically, but somehow nobody plucked up the courage to tell her to her face. Nobeast knew how she got the position, but rumours about the higher-ups pulling some strings were quite prevalent in the forces.

"We are arriving within an hour, and I think we're only slightly late for the otterpup." The vixen stared right into Dennol's eyes, earning a shiver from the marten soldier. "Do you remember what you have to do?"

"Not tell this 'Kiordan' about the end result, yes," said Dennol, not even bothering to raise his voice. "Why are we keeping him in the dark anyway?"

Urza winked. "You'll see."

Dennol sighed. Secrets were not his thing, and the fact that Urza was his superior meant that he was not allowed to ask questions. He turned back to the sea and smiled sadly at the waves.

Kiormund decided that Salamandastron was a truly marvellous place.

The mountain fortress certainly looked imposing from afar, but only after a glimpse within did Kiormund realise its true majesty. Hares buzzed around, training, joking and (of course) eating, and Kiormund could see little else with the crowd in front of him.

In the middle of the crowd stood Badgerlord Eboric, like an eagle amidst a crowd of woodpigeons. He was in more comfortable garb, with battle seeming like a faraway prospect, but Kiormund could imagine the look on a foebeast's face when they saw Eboric charging towards them in full armour.

"Lord Eboric." The hares accompanying Kiormund and Graha bowed before the badger, and they followed suit awkwardly. "I've found two beasts travelling to Salamandastron, and they seem to be expected here."

"You must be Kiormund," said the badger. "I've met you before, around three seasons ago." Eboric chuckled. "You were even shorter back then."

"I suppose that I am not really that tall," said Kiormund. He really didn't know what to say.

"And what about you, vixen?" Eboric turned to Graha, who seemed to tremble at the badger's gaze. "I don't believe we've met before."

Seeing Graha still silent, Emma spoke. "She's called Graha, my lord."

"Interesting. I assume you two are friends, are you not?" Kiormund could not pin anything precise down, but some part of Eboric looked quite anxious, as if he wanted them to leave.

"Yes," chirped Graha. "We met at Redwall, Lord Eboric. I'm here to send him off."

"Some ship is going to pick me up later," Kiormund added. "A Southswarder ship, probably."

"Southsward, hm?" The Badgerlord smiled. "I remember when you Southswarders helped us with the vermin three seasons ago. It was a hard fight, but we were victorious, all thanks to the efforts of your father and uncle."

"They certainly did more than I have." Kiormund frowned. "Father wanted for me to gain a taste for military life. It didn't work."

The badger walked closer to Kiormund. "I remember your father. He was quite the prickly beast to talk to. You and your brother were much better in this regard." He put a paw on the otter. "Come now. We must have a few days of rest until the Southswarders arrive."

Branaber was the exact opposite of Redwall.

The Abbey in Mossflower was so peaceful that beasts there happened to be driven to sleep by boredom, which would explain their penchant for telling tall tales. On the other paw, the capital of Tarelis was a cesspool of intrigue and manipulation, not to mention the rampant slavery of vermin. It made Redwall seem preferable to Lorelei.

Why exactly does Erlend love this place? Why would anybeast choose to live in this place?

Her sudden visit managed to ruffle a few feathers in the castle, only alleviated by her announcement that she would not be staying the night there. It was better to not burden the slaves and servants with more work if she could.

After being received by King Gudmund and all the ritual that entailed it, she approached the mouseking, asking where her husband would be.

"Off to Marratz he went," said Gudmund. "Chasing his brother to the edge of Southsward, and who knows where he might be next?"

It was no surprise to everybeast that she was not in a good mood. Both woodlander and vermin knew better than to approach her after she left Gudmund alone, the former darting out of the way while the latter cowered in some corner, unwilling to face their 'mistress's' wrath.

Lorelei considered asking for some room to stay in, but any vermin who found that she had suddenly gone would have a hard time explaining the disappearance to their master. Mayhaps it would be a good idea to depart. Suddenly and silently.

Turning around to see if anybeast was spying on her, Lorelei sighed in relief. Nobody there. She opened a Pathway back home– and almost walked right into Hirsent. Before Lorelei could even express her surprise, the wolf quickly pulled her into the unknown.

When the otterwife recovered her senses, she had to blink. The only sort of light she could see was a little candle, and all else was veiled in black.

"What on earth are you doing here, wolf?" asked Lorelei, her voice raised. "And where is here, anyway?"

"Oh, this is my room," responded Hirsent, eyes gleaming. "Apologies. I often forget that my night vision is better than yours."

"And you were spying on me, I presume?"

Hirsent's ears folded as her lips folded up in an awkward smile. "Your father has given instructions for me to watch over you, and to not let myself be discovered. The ring I gave you-"

"It was used to track me," interrupted Lorelei. "I know that. Did you choose to fail the second bit?"

"Yes," responded Hirsent. "Emperor Kiordan's orders are sometimes all too erratic. You know this more than anybeast. Any luck with Erlend?"

"King Gudmund said that he's at Marratz, but he should be far gone. His brother happens to be a relatively well-adjusted beast, which should drive him across a few walls."

"So where- "

"Kaldos," grumbled Lorelei. "His castle, his refuge, his home. I should have waited for him there instead of chasing his shadow across kingdoms and continents."

"Then shall we depart?" asked the wolfess, tail wagging. "I believe you know the way there."

"Give me an hour or two. I have a few beasts to visit."

"So how's it like?"

"How's what like?"

"Being Lord of the Mountain," clarified Kiormund. Otter and badger were at the top of Salamandastron, in the comfort of the Lord's quarters. Graha was quick to go for some rest or a light read in the libraries, while Kiormund followed Lord Eboric up the stairs.

"Why would you suddenly ask such a question?" Eboric asked, moving a pile of papers from one corner of his desk to another.

"Just wanted to know." Kiormund grabbed a seat. "To be honest, I don't really know what to do. Father's summoning me back for a reason, and I assume this reason carries responsibilities. Too many beasts are infamous for running from their duties, and I don't really want to join their ranks."

"Let's see." Lost in thought, the badgers let a few documents slip through his claws, earning a groan from the Badgerlord. Kiormund dived forward and returned them to their original places. Eboric proceeded to smile and thanked the otter. "What do you want?"

"Oh?"

"Trying to fulfil your duty is a very brave thing for you to do, Kiormund," said the badger, sitting down. "But there must be some sort of reason why one would have the desire to cast it away. I take it you esteem something more than your duty." Seeing Kiormund nod, Eboric smiled sadly. "Then what is it?"

"Peace," said Kiormund. "Just a bit of peace and quiet, for my family, my friends and I." The otter sighed. "I probably won't get a lot of peace back home, with all the scheming and backstabbing."

"And I take it you're afraid of conflict, yes?" Lord Eboric looked on as Kiormund nodded again. "This doesn't really surprise me."

The badger paused for a second before continuing. "Taking on responsibility means that you often have to do stuff you are not familiar with, and to deal with problems you would much rather sweep under the rug. You could fail. Things could not work out. Other beasts could reject you. If that happens, you can do little but forge on. Turn fear into prudence, pain into experience, and desire into resolve. Prove those who do not believe in you wrong!"

"So... I should just clench my teeth and do what I think is right?" asked Kiormund.

"Yes. But before you do what is right, always try to know what is right beforepaw."

There was a knock on the door, and the badgerlord rushed to open it. Out stepped a hare.

"Lord Eboric, there is a ship requesting entrance to the mountain."

Chapter Text

Clasping to Hope

By ourselves, we're no one. It's when other people look at us and see someone — that's the moment we each start to exist. All they needed was for someone to see them, connect with them. -Joshua, 'Kingdom Hearts: Dream Drop Distance'

"Look, Dennol! Hares again." said Margane, pointing at the long-eared beasts in uniform. Dennol's sister was very excitable at times, despite being older than him.

"Yes, Margane," said Dennol as he crossed his arms. "Hares indeed."

The hares were clothed in red all over, exactly like the Tarelians across the Greatrange, minus the pillaging, burning and overall savagery. Or so Dennol's superiors told him. He didn't expect the hares to treat beasts like him and Margane better.

"State your name, rank and intention, vermin!" A hare, the leader most likely, shouted, and Dennol found himself rolling his eyes again. Yep. The v-word. I expect nothing less.

"Urza, Captain of the 'Aureous Gale', picking up Kiordan Streambattle." Dennol's superior replied in her usual smug, complacent tone. Dennol hated it, and it seemed the hares have some kind of similar reaction to it.

"Streambattle, eh?" A booming voice erupted from amongst the hares, drawing Dennol's attention.

"That's the badgerlord!" exclaimed Margane.

"A big one," added Bodvar.

"Right," said Dennol, turning to Urza. "Any chance we could make it back to Floret alive?" The vixen looked onward, studying the badger closely, ignoring Dennol in the process.

"I have Kiordan Streambattle with me, but I fear he requires a day or two of rest," the badger said, eyes never leaving Urza's face. "Perhaps you could join us for a few days? Your beasts must need a bit of rest. After all, you have come all the way from Southsward."

Urza deliberated for a few seconds, then nodded. "Very well, We shall stay."

Graha was quick to realise supper at Salamandastron was a wholly different affair compared to that of Redwall. More seafood was served, almost everybeast was talking, and for once, the vixen was the one with the questions.

"What's Floret like?" she asked Bodvar, the otter soldier in front of her. He seemed close to the marteness sitting next to him – a bit too close, in fact.

"Oh, it's a wonderful place. When you sail right into its harbour, you see all the different-coloured sails arranged together like some sort of wonderful rainbow. From far away, they all seem like kites."

"The bird?"

"You know, the ones you fly in the wind – except in Margane's paws?"

Bodvar's little insult earned him an elbow to the chest, courtesy of the marteness. "Really, Bod?"

"Yeah! You and your inability to fly a kite was rather amusing to watch, really. Even Dennol – Dennol – can work with one after a bit of practice!"

"Oh, shut up!" Despite sounding quite rude, Margane didn't really seem angry. In fact, she had a big grin on her face when she turned back to Graha. "Oh, and about Floret. It's like the moon, really. It looks quite good from afar, but I don't think you would like to live there."

"Why?" asked Graha.

"Have you wondered that neither of us speak like other vermin?" asked Margane. Graha tried to find a good response to the question as Bodvar moved away, finding his way to Patrick and Emma.

"Yes," Graha responded. The topic at paw was making her fur stand up. "I didn't want to stand out, being the only vermin in the Abbey. I wanted to blend in."

"At least you got a choice," said Margane.

"You didn't?"

"We were 'pressured' to shed the accent. Our handlers used every method in the book, and let's just say I don't really remember much about my past now. They stopped us from talking about it, and some of us have even forgotten our pasts."

"That's quite sad, actually."

"What about you?" Margane winked at the vixen. "You too speak like a woodlander. Do you remember your past?"

The brawls. The marching. The starving.

"No," Graha lied as naturally as she breathed. "Not at all."

Kiormund was no extravert, but he and this 'Dennol' soldier were the only beasts not engaged in any sort of conversation. Thus, he resolved to start one.

"You don't seem like a talkative beast," said the otter, taking a slow sip of water. The marten in front of him merely nodded.

Oh no! Did I do something wrong? Kiormund shook his head. It's probably just-

"You talking to me, planktail?"

"Oh yes." Kiormund forced an awkward smile. Planktail... never heard that one before.

"Let's just say that I'm not a talker, otter," Dennol replied. "You're the princeling we're supposed to pick up, yes?"

Kiormund nodded.

"I expected as much from you." The marten gobbled down on the fish on his plate. "I don't understand why you would come back to Southsward. Leaving Mossflower? Where all the good food is? Not the best decision, Ki- what's your name again?"

"Call me Kiormund. Short for Kiordan Gudmund." As cumbersome the conversation was, the otter was glad that somebeast ignored the little list titles that preceded his name. Dennol was the third beast and the third vermin to do that.

"Your father has a weird sense of humour, Kiormund. What kind of Southswarder names his son after the two beasts trying to destroy Southsward?"

"The rebellious kind," said Kiormund. "I assume you were at Redwall three seasons ago, with the horde and all that?"

"Yes. Didn't see any battle done though. General Rikart was quite insistent that vermin don't fight vermin. You know, to stop us from deserting and stuff. The Long Patrol and the woodlander divisions did most of the hard work, while we were mostly just guarding the supply train and betting on how many beasts get left in one piece at the end. Fun stuff."

Kiormund gasped. "That's morbid!"

"That's the life of a soldier for you, princeling." Dennol reached for his beer and drank deep. "I've never really gotten a choice, so I've got to laugh when I can."

Urza felt more than a bit uncomfortable sitting in Lord Eboric's solar. It was like a wider Castle Floret room, but somehow more cramped. Having a badger in the centre of the room may have had something to do with that.

"You wanted to see me, Your Lordship?" asked the vixen. She normally had trouble speaking to other beasts politely, Daghild being the only exception, but judging by the haste with which he called her away, the badger did not care about etiquette.

The badger nodded. "The marks on your face. You're Juska, and a seer."

"You know the Juska?"

"You're in books," said Eboric. "Deyna the Warrior wrote much about your customs, and I have a few copies of his works in the mountain library." The badger got out of his seat and approached Urza. "And you've got warrior tattoos too. This is certainly unconventional, even for Juska standards."

Urza scoffed. "This book seems to be outdated. A surplus of seers around fifty seasons ago led to the development of Battleseers – seers trained for battle. Of course, they all started killing each other off." The vixen chuckled. "Typical vermin behaviour. Anyways, I'm now a Southswarder through and through, so I don't think I'll be of any use to you if you want to ask about the Juska."

"I was about to ask about something else," said Eboric. "Are you familiar with dreams and their meanings?"

"What, got a bad one?"

"A badger spirit told me that the beast destined to end my life was approaching me as I slept, and then a crowd of beasts just decides to show up on my doorstep. I would like to ask-"

"If I intend to kill you, right?"

"Kiormund and Graha are but two unarmed creatures without any sort of combat experience, and my hares are loyal to me." The badgerlord pointed a claw at Urza's face. "That leaves only you and your motley crew."

Urza tensed. Margane and Bodvar were too happy-go-lucky to commit a random murder. Dennol might have been bitter at what had been done to him throughout the past, but even he would not be stupid enough to stab a badger in the face. That left only herself, and she would only 'stab a badger in the face' with a very, very good reason.

"We would never consider murder," said the vixen, feeling her tail and whiskers twitch. "And besides, there might be more beasts who will come to Salamandastron at this very moment. A beast has to approach you before they land a blow, after all." She took a deep breath, then continued. "If you so desire, I can arrange for you to meet a beast much more learned than I am."

"Another Juska, perhaps?"

"No," responded Urza. "A mole." And a Conjurer, but you do not have to know that.

Kiormund loaded the last of the supplies onto the Aureous Gale. As he walked back, he laid his eyes on Salamandastron and its surroundings, for what was most likely the last time. Finally, it was time to leave Mossflower behind.

"Kiormund!" shouted Graha as she ran out from nowhere. "There you are! I was quite afraid that you would just pop off to Seasons-knows-where without me."

"We both know I would never do that, Graha," said Kiormund. "I'll never leave you behind – not without telling you."

The vixen sighed. "I... I do not know what to say, really. I have said goodbyes before, to my family before I joined you in Redwall, but I was expecting to see them back. You, on the other paw..."

"I'll return!" Kiormund raised his voice! "I swear I will! I promise I'll come back, and we'll see each other again!"

"I'll be looking forward to that then," said Graha, as tears started to well up in her eyes.

"Did you just use a contraction?" asked Kiormund.

"Now isn't the right time to remind me of that!" Tears finally descended from Graha's eyes, and Kiormund found his muzzle wet from his own. "You've always struggled with saying the right things."

"I thought you've gotten used to that."

"It's part of you, Kio," Graha said softly. "When you first arrived at Redwall, I don't think you'd found out who you were yet. You were as interesting as a wooden plank back then, but once we got to know each other, you got – how do I put it? Your picture was painted with more and more colours."

"I'm glad this is the case, Graha." Kiormund rushed forward and hugged the vixen. "I'm so very glad we knew each other, and I will not forget our time together. Not even a single second!"

The two friends clung to each other for around half a minute, until Graha let go. Kiormund followed suit, and he wiped the tears away from his face.

"Oh, and one thing," said Graha. "Please come back as yourself. From what I've heard from you, the places you're going to are not the best for goodbeasts. Don't lose who you are."

"Don't worry. I'll be fine!" said Kiormund, laughing. "I just hope that 'Sister Graha' would be here to greet me with a massive feast when I return to Redwall!"

"I'm sure she will, Kiormund! I am very sure!"

Chapter Text

Breaking the Seals

We've schemed and fought and loved until we are so entangled in hearts and minds that there is no way to set us free. -Eleanor of Aquitaine, 'Devil's Brood'

Lorelei snapped back into the real world with a jolt. She was back in her little corner of Branaber Castle, back in the waking world.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" asked a soft voice from behind Lorelei. Normally, she would think that it was one of the servants, but she happened to recognise this voice. After all, there were not a great many otters that were married to her husband.

"I heard you talking to yourself," said Sigrid Rainpeer.

Well, it's one of the few ways I can get an intelligent conversation going. "Think nothing of it," said Lorelei, feeling a desire to change the subject creep into her. "I was planning to find you anyways. How was your son's wedding?"

"It was very fine, thank you," responded Sigrid. "Most of us wished that you were there, alongside your parents. Erlend told me that the Emperor is a beast who enjoys merriment and a good feast."

"We had a funeral to attend to." Whether or not her former brother-in-law Orlando was known or significant to some sort of degree, Lorelei would still have gone to see him laid to rest. Anywhere was better than Branaber, or indeed any part of Tarelis outside of her mother's lands. In any case, she felt like she owed Corrado something.

"I understand. The death of a kinsbeast is not to be taken lightly. I understand that Lord Truetide was one of your father's greatest supporters."

Lorelei nodded and grimaced. "He died too soon," she said softly.

The room was quickly plunged into an awkward silence, with both otterwives not knowing what to say to each other. Finally, Lorelei broke the deadlock. "How is Sigurd taking to the marriage?"

Sigrid shook her head. "Unenthusiastically. So far both the Shellheart lady and he are cold to each other. Why, I've never seen them talk to each other after the wedding. Avelyn was much friendlier to the girls – Sigurd's sisters, I mean, but she..."

"I understand," interrupted Lorelei. "I understand more than anybeast. I'm one of the few beasts who got shafted almost immediately after my marriage, so I know what Lady Shellheart's feeling."

"Do you still blame me?" asked Sigrid, her voice going soft. "If Erlend-"

"No." Lorelei responded as calmly as she could. "It's not your fault." Neither is it mine. "I should go talk to your son now. Learn what he's so upset about."

Without another word, she turned back and made for a door.

It took Lorelei a minute or two to realise that she had no idea where Sigurd was, or even where she herself was.

Can't find the boy? The voice of Hirsent popped into her head. I would have asked for directions from the other otter you were just talking to if I were you.

Lorelei wanted to stand still and wonder about the veracity of the statement, but she decided not to. She had seen and done too much to doubt an ever-changing reality. The conversation was getting awkward, wolf. Couldn't you tell?

I don't believe so. I'm-

You really need to go out more, Hirsent. Maybe then you'll grasp the slightest cue of social interaction. Isangrim must have taught you nothing.

Well, I hadn't been seen in public until Isangrim's death, so I haven't talked to a polite beast since...

"Shush!" hissed Lorelei as the sound of pawsteps emerged behind her. It was a little vixen, peeking from outside the doorway. A glare from the princess quickly caused her to shut the door and leave.

Yet you're a better beast than he is. Lorelei found herself smiling. It doesn't sound like high praise, but honestly? I'm quite glad.

Hirsent quickly mumbled some thankful sentences, before changing the subject quickly. Lorelei could imagine her ears folding and muzzle heating up.

You, er, ever wondered how Isangrim found his way to your father's side?

No, actually. Lorelei was quite surprised to realise that she hadn't thought of that.

There's no shame in not knowing if you are willing to learn. Hirsent's voice was loud and clear, despite only Lorelei hearing it.Isangrim said that a lot. Besides, I'm always happy to deliver some exposition. The Reader had seen things play out before, but I don't really care about them.

You're speaking to me, not some observer in the heavens. Go on.

Oh, alright. Lorelei can almost feel the wolf's excited smile. It all started at Balv. You know, the-

The battle, yeah. I knew that – everybeast knows that!

Alright. Your father met a ratmaid almost immediately after a battle, who just happened to be a Thaumaturge. She managed to discover his potential, and then they travelled-

"Good morning!" A newcomer's voice startled Lorelei. She cognitively commanded Hirsent to be silent before turning her attention away from the wolf and to an otter. Ingeborg Streambattle was a maid of sixteen, just a season younger than her Kiordan, but she was older in wisdom than she was in body. Lorelei had to wonder how Erlend of all beasts sired her.

"I apologise, Your Highness," said Ingeborg, who then quickly curtsied. "You look lost in thought, and I did you wrong to disturb you."

"Think nothing of it, Ingeborg. I was just going to find your brother, and it dawned on me that I forgot where his room was."

"Oh, it's on the second floor's third corridor, second door to the right." The younger otter crossed her paws. "I would recommend that you tread very carefully with him. He's still stressed.

"Stressed?"

"About the whole rushed marriage. He fled the bedding ceremony at the first opportunity, and now Father's gone to Marratz with Lord Lamont, Sigrun's off to the Shellhearts to patch things up, which leaves Marianna and I to take care of Mother."

Lorelei quickly stammered something apologetic.

"So, I ask you to please be respectful and polite. He needs a lot of help right now."

Lorelei nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Lorelei knocked on the door of the bedroom, wondering what she should say. Sigurd hadn't spoken to her since he was eleven – hardly the full-grown lord of today.

"Yes?" A booming male voice responded to her beckoning.

"I am Princess Lorelei of Garlesca, and I wish to see Lord Sigurd Streambattle."

The door swung open, and out stepped an otter. Like his father, Sigurd sported a coat of sleek grey fur, and he had inherited the Streambattle looks. After nine seasons of growth and training, the young lord was tall and strong, the way Erlend was when Lorelei had believed that her second marriage could be as stable as her first. Was her past self in love with him? Or was she just curious? Either way, she wasn't likely to find out from Sigurd of all beasts.

"I wanted to speak with you."

"Why?"

"Your marriage problem has to be fixed someday, Sigurd." Lorelei grabbed a chair and sat on it.

"Did my mother put you up to this?" Sigurd asked almost immediately. "It certainly sounds like it, and I have heard too much of her already."

"It- Yes." Lorelei was tempted to nod, but decided not to. She needed to keep up the appearance of impassivity – she was more persuasive that way. "It has become quite clear that the matter has become more serious than you thought."

"They always are," replied Sigurd in a nonchalant manner, not seen since Lorelei talked with Corrado. The petulant pup was now a still petulant otter, but Lorelei's elder son now knew what a parent feels. Sigurd was another story.

"Look," said Lorelei. "I know how it is to be rushed into a marriage. It's hardly pleasant-"

"But it's part of my duty, I know!" Sigurd took a deep breath. "Apologies about the outburst. I know that my marriage has to be consummated at some point, and I have resigned myself to it. But when and where is my choice, and I've decided to not yet. I'm just a son of some random lord from a dubious marriage. I'm not worthy of Lady Shellheart's company."

"Not worthy?" Lorelei's lips curled into a bitter smile. "You know, having been married to a Streambattle and having given birth to one, one would think that I have heard all too much nonsense, but you, Sigurd, are truly outstanding even amongst your line. Not worthy? I've heard praise after praise given to you by your parents and King Gudmund! Praise that was never given to your brother! Praise that was never given to me, even! If you know you're 'worthy', then all is well. And if you don't, you should!"

A silence reigned over the room for a few long seconds, which was broken by a few mumbles from Sigurd.

"Er, um, I suppose." The otter's brows furrowed. "Have you heard? Kiordan's coming back to Southsward. Lord Lamont made a big show about it at my wedding, and I'm worried of what he might do to-"

"Probably nothing too serious. My father will see to it. Still, it would do me well to return to his side."

"Then I would like to accompany you. To pay the Emperor a visit. I would very much desire to speak with him."

"Hm?" Lorelei wasn't expecting the request. She could deny Sigurd the pleasure, but that would mean suspicion after she had been receptive to him this whole time. Besides, what would either Kiordan say if she refused? "That would be quite a good idea, yes."

"Then I shall pack up my belongings, and we will meet at the port... tomorrow afternoon?"

"Morning would be better. I don't know when ships will sail towards the east."

Sigurd nodded. "Then we shall see each other then."

Lorelei sighed as she exited the bedroom. She could have slunk back home in the middle of the night. Instead, she now had to spend a week on the rough Szailan sea, followed by at least three weeks on the rocky Garlean roads, before finally enduring a cold week across the rugged Imperial Spine. Not the most comfortable of travels, and by no means the safest.

Unless... some Conjurer opened some Pathway in some corner of Branaber. That would be quite the shortcut, but twenty seasons ago Lorelei had made a promise to keep things secret to her father and some mustelid. She had no intention of breaking it just yet.

I take it you'll come home a bit later than expected? The voice of Hirsent crept into her mind once more. I should probably inform your father then.

With a bit of luck, my arrival in Wossaham will coincide with my son's return. How are things on the 'beasts trying to kill my father' front? Oh, and why are they trying to kill him?

I believe he'd taken over the investigation on that front, though his efforts have been hampered by his duties and the sudden disappearance of both Daghild and her accomplice. As for why, I know not.

Then please inform my father that I will be arriving rather late.

Silence. Again. Lorelei knew that the wolf went off elsewhere to undertake her mission without another word. The princess smiled, this time a genuine one. She's a welcome change in pace compared to Isangrim, knowing when not to complain.

She hurried to the docks. Boats to Ingolpart were made from trees, but didn't grow on them.

Chapter Text

Coin and Country

I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse:

Borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.

-Falstaff, 'Henry IV, Part II' by William Shakespeare

Sitting atop a barrel, Egil wondered how long he had to stay here. For the young ferret, Kaldos was like the moon. It looked nice on the surface, but he would never think of living there.

First and foremost, beasts here were rude. Woodlanders being rude to Egil's kind was a common occurrence across the globe, but woodlanders here were almost as rude to each other as they were to vermin. The colourful language used to describe each other could keep a ferret awake for three days, a marten for two and a badger for one.

Vermin were allowed to settle within the city thanks to the Treaty of Kunoswald, but like all treaties, it was vague and loosely enforced. Lord Erlend had realised that dead vermin pay no taxes and produce no goods. Woodlanders still looked down on vermin, but would sooner invite a fox to a friendly visit than break bread with a Southswarder.

Of course, Southswarders were merely half the problem. Food was expensive in Kaldos, as indeed was everything else. Egil's father had explained to him that this was because of some great political spat between Lord Erlend and Southsward. Tariffs were raised, embargoes were placed and the only way to get supplies was from themselves and from unscrupulous Imperial merchants like Egil's father. Few bothered about this however, for the Kaldosians were all too eager to ram a claw into the eye of their Southswarder overlords. They were proud folk whose pride often got in the way of reason.

"Egil!" The ferret turned to the right, and saw a familiar face poking out of the crows. Another ferret, in the same brown cotton tunic as Egil.

"Arni. I was looking for you!" Egil sprang up off the barrel and approached his brother.

"What are you doing here?" asked Arni, arms crossed.

"Seeing the fish market," replied Egil. "I wanted to get something to eat, but the prices-"

"Yeah, I know. That's why father trades here, idiot."

"Oh." Egil groaned. "Forget I asked."

"In any case, your father wants you in the castle. Now."

Tarelis may have been like a second home for Erlend, but he simply could not compare it to Kaldos. As far as he knew, that was impossible.

After Lamont decided to leave him to enter some meeting with the squirrelord, Erlend saw fit to enter his own room, pick up his pre-packed bags, and take the first ship to Kaldos without even considering waiting for his brother. Let him talk about pirates and privateers with the squirrelord. The faster I leave his side, the better for me. And possibly for him too.

Kaldos was one of the few places where Erlend actually felt loved. After all, he had grown up there, and was assigned it as an appanage to govern before he was even born. It was here where he grew up and played, it was here where he had actually good memories with his brother, and it was here where he met Sigrid.

They were both mere teenagers when her family came for a visit in Kaldos. Of course, she wasn't some ottermaid from a great house like a certain Princess Lorelei Skyward of Garlesca. No, she was from some minor noble family from the North of Travrik, where both royal and lordly authority happened to be virtually non-existent. A few meetings and board games later, they were smitten with each other, but marriage seemed not to be possible – until a bit of encouragement from Lamont. Of course, the little snake was just trying to ensure that Erlend would not marry somebeast important, but he was being encouraging for once.

They married in some shrine in Swalestead a season after Sigurd and Sigrun were born, just next to her home castle. Everybeast else thought that they were just familiar with each other – Erlend's in-laws kept their secret. To his brother's dismay, Erlend did his duty and married Lorelei, but only a fool could claim the marriage was true. Kaldos married the Empire, and that was the only intimacy that happened nineteen seasons ago.

At least Erlend was kind enough to confess to her father on his wedding day – who then told everybeast else almost immediately. That made every single meeting with the Emperor awkward, the Empress irksome, and Lorelei especially thorny. They decided that it would be better for them to not see each other after Young Kiordan was born, and indeed this was probably for the best.

Erlend waited for his ship to stop, then stepped into the port of his own castle. Under normal circumstances, the otterlord would have landed in the city's main port to experience the sea winds and the admiration of his subjects, but Erlend was in a rush today.

The first beast Erlend saw earned him a smile. As his brother-in-law, Ospak Rainpeer was one of the main beasts who were able to gain Erlend's trust. The younger otter bowed and spoke. "I hope everything is to your liking, Lord Erlend."

"Everything is fine, Ospak." Everything was not, but Ospak was hardly to blame. Most of Erlend's troubles came from Lamont and his king, and he had nobeast else to blame for his local problems. "Have the Southswarders tried anything?"

"No, my lord. I assume they are still in Gystra. They have no intention of breaching the Fortline."

"Perfectly sound reasoning," remarked Erlend. He had spent all too much time and gold on the forts that dotted the Travrikan countryside, and they seemed to be quite the Southswarder deterrent. "Anything else?"

"Skuli Arnasson is upstairs," said Ospak. "He arrived yesterday, and I offered him the necessary accommodations befitting him."

Erlend groaned. Must be another repayment request. "Tell him I'll be ready to receive him in an hour or so. I should probably have somebeast draw a bath."

A long, long time ago, Erlend was in dire straits. Both literally and figuratively, but that didn't matter. In any case, after a few small loans from a certain ferret cambist, the otter had borrowed time as well. Now, Skuli was here to remind him that what has been borrowed has to be repaid.

"Well... there's good news and bad news," mumbled Erlend. The bath he had just taken didn't really help with his nerves.

"Yes?" Skuli asked, raising his whiskers. That unsettling grin on his face still didn't let up.

"The good news is that I have enough money to repay my debts." Erlend forced an awkward smile. "All of them. I have had enough for a while, too."

"And the bad news?" The ferret's grin sent shivers up Erlend's spine.

"I, er, think that it would not be that good of an idea to have it repaid just yet," said Erlend.

"Is that so? You should best have your reasons."

"I have troops to pay and garrisons to maintain, ver- ferret." Erlend bit his lip. It was not a good decision to insult a creditor. "Southward eyes what I am due to protect with avarice."

"Cut the fancy excuses, woodlander." Skuli's grin never moved, but it went from unsettling Erlend to terrifying him. "Coin isn't the only way to repay me, and Southsward is downright generous compared to either of us. Also, don't hesitate to call me vermin. It's the worst thing that you can do to me, after all."

Erlend's brows flared up. "I'm sure I could think up something worse than a word."

"Yeah, you have an army," scoffed the vermin. "But you also have debts, and I'm not the only creditor you've got on your little webbed paws. Tick me off and every single one of them shall call in those debts. With no more money on your paws, holding your Fortline should be a bit harder. When the Southswards roll in, you would have to call in your in-laws for help. Both sets of them, if you're lucky. If not, I would say that the Floret dungeons would prove to be quite cosy, but that would be a lie."

"Get to the point, moneychanger," said Erlend, realising that his brother now had a competitor for 'World's Most Infuriating Beast'. "What do you want?"

"A lot of things, if you can't tell. A safe retirement, bright futures for my kits, and the liberation of my kind from both Tarelis and Southsward." For the first time since the ferret was here, he actually seemed to be completely serious. "You've been to both places, and you know full well what you woodlanders do." The smile popped back up, and Erlend could feel his fur turn grey. "But in the meantime, the first two shall suffice."

"What do you want now?"

"Lord Holmger of Helskerland is dead. The shrew was dying for the better part of the decade, with him dead without an heir, you can name his successor. Anybeast who's willing to solve the vermin question."

"I assume you are very willing indeed," said Erlend, trying to keep his face blank. "Sending vermin off to govern the islands makes sense. Keep the vermin from being oppressed more than they already are. But not you. Hellgates, not you."

Skuli's tail twitched and Erlend could swear he heard a hissing sound. "Oh? And why is that?"

"The last thing we want is for you to be clawed to death by angry woodlanders, and the last thing I want is for a lordly nomination of mine causing a rebellion."

"Well, maybe my children are up to the task-"

"You wouldn't want them to be clawed to death by angry woodlanders, would you?" Erlend's question seemed to finally shut the ferret up. "But I'm sure you'll be compensated with something favourable. Remember my boy Kiordan? I'm sure he'll be more than ready to actually do something useful for once."

"You want him to get the problem sorted out?" Skuli's eyes widened. "He's the naivest pup I've ever met, and do you honestly just expect him to slide in on a shrimp sandwich without any negative consequences?"

"The best way to get experience is to do things yourself, and ruling a realm is no exception." Erlend took a deep breath. "And besides, Egil sticks to him like two peas in a pod. With him around, Kio can get everything done in months. Woodlanders like vermin, vermin like woodlanders, somebeast I can truly trust gets to look after Helskerland for me, and I don't have to split Kaldos after my death. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No." Skuli sounded feebler than before, though not by much. "No. But you have to remember that he's just sixteen seasons of age, and he will make mistakes. And if one of those mistakes leads to vermin being slaughtered, or Egil getting hurt, then I'm sure you can beg for every scrap of coin on the streets of Kaldos."

"That will not happen," said Erlend, pushing any doubts he had to the side. "I'll keep a close eye on him, and you'll get what you want sooner or later."

Sitting in a narrow little castle room, with his brother on one side and his father on the other, there was no way for Egil to feel remotely comfortable.

The old ferret was a cambist, a slippery creature who turned coins into other types of coins, pocketing a bit for himself along the way. Once a steady profit entered his purse, he then bought cloth, wine, herrings and the like from Wossaham, Abelshus and all the coastal Otharnic cities, then sold them to inland towns at a slightly higher price.

Then Lord Erlend got his sorry rudder embargoed, and Skuli smelled profit. A great many trades and a few loans later, Skuli had enough gold to seriously consider his legacy and that of his three kits. 'Three' was the important word.

"You two know otters and their pup-raising attitudes all too well," said Skuli. "There's a little rhyme: 'One for the lands, one for the war; only sire two and hope for no more'." He chuckled. "I would have told Lord Steffen that this strategy would work wonders, but that would be a lie."

"It wouldn't have worked," said Arni. "Lord Erlend was born after Steffen passed away."

"Ach! Whatever." Skuli turned his attention back to Egil. "Back to the proverb. I've got Lora trading over in Trazond, and she'll take over the family business when I retire. Arni's in his band of conto- conti-"

"Condottieri," corrected Arni.

"His company of mercenaries. Which leaves you, Egil."

"So... am I important?" asked the youngest ferret.

"Oh yes. A different sort of important, but still important." Skuli's eyes shone as the volume of his voice dropped. "Do you remember Kiordan?"

"The emperor or the pup?"

"The pup. But the emperor's important too." Skuli's smile faded. "You see, the older Kiordan told me that the younger one's coming back from Redwall. To Floret, of all places."

"I thought Lord Erlend didn't like Floret. Something's off here."

"He doesn't, and here's the interesting part. It's all because of some trick from Lamont Streambattle of Floret. Some fake letter or whatsit. The Emperor's trying to salvage the situation as we speak. He'll probably come to Floret himself."

"Did I miss the part that concerns me?" asked Egil, tapping a claw on his head mockingly. "Because I didn't really seem to hear it."

"In any case, you get to meet Kiordan again. The young one. Your friend. He's going to rule Helskerland."

Chapter Text

Epilogue

Blank Points

To begin, we first must see the end! -lyrics of 'To the Edge' by Masayoshi Soken

"And in the end, I only persuaded Lord Erramun to execute the main offenders," grumbled Lamont. He didn't like nocturnal council meetings, but if King Willem willed it so, he would 'gladly' attend. "Three deaths were not enough for all the Southswarders who were sent to the bottom of the sea, and death by mere decapitation meant that they suffered too little."

"A token attempt to please us," replied the squirrelking. He was quite advanced in seasons and weight, but he had always tried to downplay that. A golden bell, the sigil of Southsward, was etched upon his silk doublet, but Lamont has always thought that Willem was not exactly fit to bear any sort of legacy.

"Erramun clings on to his sister Altarra for dear life, just like she clings on to Gudmund." King Willem spat the last word – his dislike for his southern neighbour was well-known. "Marratz should have been ours, and the mouse knows that."

"You cannot expect us to retake it without help," said General Rikart, the spines on his back bristling with every word. The hedgehog was young for a leader of beasts, but he was experienced, and had the scars to prove it. "With Erlend of Kaldos still at large in the east, a war on two fronts is simply too expensive to handle."

"Expensive?" asked Princess Jacoba. The elder of Willem's granddaughters, she was trained to rule after her father's untimely passing, but even after that she seemed unfit to govern at times. "I was told that our mines have not run dry. Kiordan and his empire is too willing to trade with us as well. We can afford everything."

"Do you remember that little episode three seasons ago?" asked Lamont.

"Repaying our debts to Redwall Abbey, yes." With each successive answer, the squirrel princess expressed that she was almost completely out of touch with matters of state.

Southsward had long forgotten about Redwall's involvement in Nagru's war, and she should have still forgotten about it. That would have saved her blood, iron and gold. It was to Redwall's relief that Southswarders had an honour-obsessed fool for a king. If it was any consolation, Lamont managed to talk Erlend into going with him, using up a bit of his money as well.

"That cost us forty thousand grossi which will never be returned to us!" shouted Lamont. "You have no idea how hard it is to transport supplies from Floret to Mossflower, let alone how much it cost. Even if we fight closer to home and have the best army in the world, it is not going to be in any way affordable."

For a second or two, Jacoba looked lost for words. "I apologise. I spoke too rashly. As seneschal of Southsward, you possess great expertise in these matters, and I should take your advice."

You'd best. "I have sworn to serve your line and the realm, Your Highness, and I am always here to provide you with counsel."

"Maybe we can move on to the next subject?" asked Daghild the mole, recorder-cum-spymaster. A rare breed with an unhealthy and obsessive personality, for Lamont the mole always smelled of something suspicious. "Lord Holmger of Helskerland is dead."

"Finally. Took the shrew long enough." King Willem seemed more enthusiastic about this piece of news than the rest of the council combined – even his grandaughter.

"The news is not to our liking, Your Majesty," Daghild said in her oily voice. "Lord Erlend would nominate some crony of his to fill off the seat. Most likely somebeast not on death's door."

"Worry not," said Rikart. "We'll have his son in a month or so, won't we? Then we can pressure him into naming any beast who should be of help to use rather than to him."

"Assuming he does care about his son, political bargaining tool or otherwise," remarked Lamont. "I doubt that is the case."

Erlend was rather famous for favouring his first marriage and its fruits. His bigamy with Lorelei Skyward was a mere trick to secure a defensive guarantee from her father, and once Kiordan passes away he would most likely cast her away across the Helsker Strait. But with that vile stratagem, Lamont's wayward brother managed to buy enough time to finish his line of castles and forts on his western border, finding a whole-new method of beggaring himself in the process.

"In any case, we should wait until your nephew arrives before we decide on something, seneschal," said Jacoba. "As the saying goes, counting woodpigeons before they hatch is folly."

"You make a good point," declared the king. "The council is adjourned."

Lamont bowed and left his seat. And nothing is done. Again. How very typical.

"Hello? Anybeast?" hollered Urza. The Dreamscape was a beautiful place which was more beautiful when she was alone, but it was also a more dangerous place if that happened to be the case.

"I'm here, I'm here, no need to fret!" Daghild's voice appeared before her body entered the void. "Sorry for the tardiness. I was at one of King Willem's night council meetings."

"Is it about the fat squirrel again?" asked Urza. "I don't think he can contribute to any discussion about the fate of his realm, much less the fate of worlds."

"As much as it is treasonous to say so, I would have to agree," Daghild nodded. "Is your charge safe?"

"You mean the otter?" Urza's ears perked up. "Yes. He's fast asleep, and unaware of everything that you have planned for him."

"Oh? Then good." Daghild chuckled. "Imagine the looks on everyone's faces when he suddenly didn't show up."

"That would be funny, yes, but I have a question to ask."

"What is it?"

"Have you grown closer to discovering the identity of the Taggerung?" asked Urza, tail twitching. "It was foretold that-"

"Yeah. They would save the world from those who do it harm. That is, Kiordan. Classic Juska fatalism. Rikart chose to believe that, so he pressed vermin like you into the Southswarder army I find it slightly more reasonable believe in the other foretellings."

"Oh?"

"The Taggerung shall be born too early to see the world bleed. The Taggerung shall be born too late to hear the world burn. The Taggerung shall see the world's destruction instead of its salvation. Every seer I've met has something different to say, which makes things all the more confusing."

"So what you're saying is this: The Taggerung's coming is not necessarily a good thing, right?"

"Yes. You can say that."

"Then let's not search for him or her," said Urza. "Until we get the prophecies sorted out."

Daghild smiled sadly, then sighed. "I think it's a bit too late for that."

After returning from Salamandastron, Graha stayed in Salamandastron for a day, then went home by the road she came, with Patrick and Emma in tow. They enjoyed Mossvale a bit too much for Graha's family's liking, but there was enough time for a touching reunion with Rak and her parents., who were quite insistent in travelling to the abbey with her. Then they reached Redwall, and there was to be much rejoicing – especially once the ordination got underway.

"Come here, Graha." Abbot Cuthbert's kind voice radiated throughout the Great Hall. The vixen did as the otter bid, and proceeded to kneel before him.

"Are ye willin' to adhere to the charter of Redwall Abbey?"

"Yes, Father Abbot." replied Graha. She had recited it for a few months now. "I shall be a Sister of peace and goodwill, and live in harmony with other beasts under the Abbey. I shall take food from the earth, and care and give in return. I shall forsake all forms of violence without cause and reason, and never take a life without a truly just cause. I shall help all those who could not help themselves in any way or form. This I swear with all my heart."

Cuthbert nodded. "What more do ye swear?"

"I swear to value no possessions above the lives and wellbeing of my fellow Abbeybeasts, and to share all I have with my brother and sisters. I swear to take no husband and bear no children-"

"Graha, wouldn't all that be a little extreme?" asked a wide-eyed Abbot Cuthbert. "Maybe ye could dial it down a little? Yore takin' it too seriously."

"I understand. I swear to always follow my conscience!"

"That's more like it! Rise, Sister Graha of Redwall Abbey!"

She stood up, and turned to the small crowd seated across her. Patrick and Emma were still in some sort of conversation, but Graha's mother was quick to turn their heads to her with quick clouts to the head. Rak and her father looked all too proud of her, and even Brother Leonard's eyes seemed to gleam at her.

She was here, she was in her new home, and after much effort she was a Sister of Redwall, the first fox to be one.

Just wait 'til Kiormund sees me in one of those green habits when he comes back!

Martin the Warrior watched as the Great Hall erupted into celebrations. Redwall Abbey now had its first fox Sister, and nobeast seemed to mind.

This was for the best. Many a Redwaller, including those in the warrior's own time, saw vermin as inferior beasts, worthy of nothing but extermination. Now, those times were ending, and Martin could say for sure that they would not be missed. Ever.

"Are you having fun?"

Martin slowly turned towards the voice. Behind him was the wolf Hirsent. They had met back when the rude otterwife paid the Abbey a visit, after Kiormund left homeward through the gates. It wasn't often that a wolf could walk through the gates of Redwall Abbey, and it was an even rarer occurrence when that could happen without anybeast realising that she was even there."

"What are you doing here?" asked the mouse.

"Watching the celebrations," replied Hirsent, adjusting her wooden staff in her paws. "First vermin to take the green. A historic milestone, and one for the annals."

"You know, you could have knocked on the door instead of barging in through one of those 'Pathways'," said the Warrior, eyes trained on the wolf. "But enough talk. Who are you?"

"You know me well enough, I think," responded the wolf. "Or was that another you? Ah, yes. Another you knows me, and you know another me."

"Then you know that I like giving riddles more than being given them all too well. 'Another me', 'another you'? You are a puzzle that's not easy to solve."

"We are all different beasts throughout our lives, changing into forms unrecognisable to our past selves. You weren't always a warrior, for one, and I... the less said, the better."

"You look young still, wolf," said Martin. "Would it surprise me to say you can travel through time? The last time somebeast said that was a few decades ago, and that was a pretty elaborate joke."

"Oh, I can," said Hirsent with a wry smile. "Everybeast can. Only forward, and very slowly."

A great cheer erupted from the Great Hall, followed by a solid round of applause and a little twitch of Hirsent's tail.

"I must depart now. I do not want to cause alarm, and I've got somebeast to talk to." With a snap of her claws, a Pathway opened, and the wolf stepped through it, with as little noise as possible.

She turned back to Martin, and sighed. "I'm sorry. I truly am. Both for what I've done, and what I'll do."

Before the mouse could ask for any form of clarification, the Pathway snapped shut.

Chapter Text

Tailpiece

Remembrance

People think dreams aren't real just because they aren't made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes. -Neil Gaiman

For Kiordan, family members were like wine. They should be present at a dinner table, but not in any excessive quantities. Unless, of course, you were Niels Waveguard and you prefered some sort of weaker beverage, but the point still stood.

Three in a room was the perfect number. Lorelei was off in Tarelis, Erlend back in Travrik, and Corrado had decided to return to Garlesca. Now, the old otter himself was to head to Southsward, but not before one last supper with his wife and their filial surrogate.

The last interesting thing that had happened to Southsward was when some 'foxwolf' invaded it around five centuries prior, and its inhabitants just wouldn't stop crowing about it. Everybeast and their uncle could rout a gang of vermin trapped in their own turf, flailing around like flipped tortoises. Their neighbours the Tarelians were only slightly better, but there was nothing good about their vermin policies. It was harder to believe that they were not even close to being the worst of Kiordan's rivals.

As usual, Kiordan was the first to initiate a conversation at the supper table. "Niels, how's work with your brother?"

"Troublesome," responded the younger otter. Niels Waveguard was an unimpressive bright-eyed pup, who after almost four decades had now grown up to become an impressive bright-eyed pup. Baby steps, yes, but this was Niels Kiordan was talking about.

"It is to be expected," Marla quipped. Kiordan's wife was not early to join a conversation, but she always had something to say. "Lord Knud had been giving us grief even before you were born."

Niels's whiskers drooped. "I should have known better than to try. He isn't the most reasonable of beasts. If he doesn't listen to me, he'll listen to nobeast."

"Futile or not, we thank you for your effort," said Kiordan. "In an age of war and blood, somebeast has to play the role of peacemaker, and I would say that you play your part well."

"Tha- Thank you." Niels was taken aback, as usual. Shaking his head, he continued listing out his duties. "Valence is safe with Maupert and the Graillards watching over it. The Valeran League of Cities seems content with independence and the terms of the Treaty of Eichfurt. Laskaros wants Trazond back, but they couldn't take it even if they wanted to. As for Tarelis and Southsward, you know all too well."

"On the edge of war," Marla took a bite out of her pie. "Southsward and Tarelis are like two eagles circling over a body, each eyeing for a bite, but anxious to see what the other's planning."

"By 'eagles' you meant vultures, dear." Kiordan smiled as he had a little sip of wine. "And they are more similar to two woodpigeons having a stupidity contest than anything else."

"Whatever," cooed Marla. "It's not like it's important."

"Yeah, useless stuff."

Niels coughed, drawing the couple's attention back to him. "In any case, I don't really know what to do next. Southsward frowns upon my association with Erlend Streambattle of Kaldos, and Tarelis would not welcome me after that diplomatic faux pas you had me commit around eight seasons ago – which you still have not apologised for."

"It-" Kiordan tried to justify himself, but Niels was having none of it.

"Was your fault, plain and simple."

Kiordan decided to change the subject. "Well, there's always the good news to balance out the bad. You remember Little Kio?"

Niels smiled at the name. "Kiormund, yes. I remember him."

"It's kind of you to bring him into the conversation," quipped Marla. "A joy to behold, that little pup. Doesn't talk much, but he's eager to please. Redwall Abbey would do well to have him for a while."

"Well, about that..." Kiordan found himself scratching the back of his head. "He's coming back to the Southern Realms."

Marla's eyes widened as Niels almost choked on his cider.

"Some Southswarder trick," spat the Emperor, gulping down the contents of his goblet. "He's probably on some sort of ship, sailing his way across the Western Sea, and that's why I'm headed away to Floret."

"Floret isn't the safest of places, even for you." Marla put a paw on her husband's shoulder. "Are you not afraid in the least?"

"Meh, I've seen worse," said Kiordan. "At least it isn't-" He stopped. The alcohol almost made him say things better left unsaid. What would Marla say when she learned about Thaumaturgy, Daghild and Urza, and all those icky details? "At least it isn't Branaber."

Kiordan turned to Niels. "In any case, would you like to go with me? I've asked Marla, but she would much rather stay here and help with the ruling stuff."

"Somebeast has to," said Marla, giving Kiordan a solid nudge in the ribs. "With you gallivanting about the world, somebeast has to clean up the mess you've left behind and do your job for you."

"And I'm very glad it's you," said Kiordan. "You're much better equipped to do some things better than I am, and the realm is grateful for that." Flattery. The diplomat's opening move.

Niels coughed, bringing back the couple's attention to the topic at paw. "I have decided to accompany you. Maybe patch things up with the Southswarders, and I get to see little Kio again."

"And I presume you're willing to brave another round of sea-sickness to see the pup one more time?" asked Kiordan. "You might have noticed that there's a strait between Wossaham and Kaldos."

"It's just five days on sea." Niels managed a nervous smile. "And then the journey to Floret would be made on land, so no worries on that front."

"It's settled then. Hopefully you'll be fine."

"Am I getting old?" asked Marla.

Not expecting the question, Kiordan stood still. He had just changed into his nightclothes and gotten ready for bed, but his wife didn't seem to be tired.

"All beasts get old if they're lucky, dear," said Kiordan. "Death follows the path we walk, but it seems to have been longer than expected."

"Oh, you and your complex quotes!" Marla laughed. "Seriously. Why say much when you can say little?"

"It's much fancier that way. Don't you see?" Kiordan dove into the safety of his bed, snuggling close next to his wife.

"You're clearly not old in mind as you are in body," said Marla. "I, on the other paw... I'm starting to forget things, and there was that one time I got lost in the castle..."

Kiordan had seen this play out before. Memories would be taken away first, then sense of direction, speech, emotion, drive... When death took old Birnardu, they said it was a mercy. Was it true? "Oh, you'll be fine," he said. For now, anyway. I can't do anything for you. I'm sorry. "What do you still remember?"

"The old memories, things left buried underneath. The day we first met, for example."

"Oh yeah, that was embarrassing."

"And that scene you made at our wedding! Goodness, were you even thinking clearly?"

"You really didn't have to bring it up."

"Then Lorelei was born, and you cried. A lot."

"I remember that all too well."

"It's sad, isn't it? We weren't the best of spouses, and by the time we paid attention to each other, we'd missed our chance to bear and sire more pups."

"You've never wanted to bear them!" said Kiordan in exasperation.

"I regret that decision." Marla shook her head and sighed. "Now we've got a wayward daughter and two grandchildren miles away."

"You've done a great job raising them." And I should have done more.

"Is that so?" Marla's lips curled up into a reassuring smile. "Good."

The Dreamscape lit up at Kiordan's command.

Gone was the cloying darkness that all dreams began from, and in its place rose towers of marble, eight of them in total, and the walls that connected them. Lecannu Castle was where Kiordan spent his early days, and it was still fresh in his memories.

Squinting his eyes, Kiordan saw a little black figure clad in white atop a wall. Closing his eyes, he wished that he was atop the wall, enjoying the evening breeze and the warmth.

His eyes opened, and he was.

"You have good taste in architecture, Your Radiance." Hirsent spoke, as softly as she usual did. "Isangrim would approve of it."

"He wouldn't," said Kiordan. "He'll find something to nitpick, and moan about it for a week or two, before his perfectionism moved on to some other creation."

"It doesn't matter. I like it. It must have felt nice to grow up here," said Hirsent.

"Not really," said Kiordan, leaning on the wall. "The whole thing wasn't finished, so it was all too noisy here, with all the construction going on. Wouldn't have the peace and quiet an oldfur needs, though my younger self loved it."

"You're not that old," remarked Hirsent. "Seventy isn't that old where I come from."

"Quit the flattery, girl. Beasts here can consider themselves lucky to reach the age of forty."

"Er, alright." The wolfess smiled as her ears drooped. "I didn't know."

"Whoa, you're that demure? Isangrim would have responded with an insult. Hellgates, Deyna and Melisse would have put in a word or two. Maybe not Deyna, but the point still stands.

"Would you have preferred biting sarcasm?" Hirsent crossed her paws and smiled. "Or no sarcasm and just biting?"

"That's more like it!" said Kiordan. "You have stuff to report, haven't you?"

"Your daughter's hit a delay."

"Oh? I'm sure she has her reasons."

"She's taking Sigurd Streambattle to Wossaham the long way around. A ship to Ingolpart, then another ship to Garlesca, a stop at Ruggeru to visit her son, then making her way to where you are."

"Nice plan. Seems like a rush though. And Sigurd of all beasts? They haven't talked to each other in ten seasons! And the timing's all awry! Just when I'm headed to Floret."

"She will catch up on her own, most likely." Hirsent turned to leave, and almost immediately turned back. "Oh, one thing. I told Lorelei a bit of Isangrim's past, starting with Melisse. I got interrupted quite quickly, so I didn't tell her more."

"And thank the Seasons for that," said Kiordan. "You really shouldn't. I've learned from experience that my daughter can only keep a single secret at a time. If you tell her that who Isangrim truly is, then you would have to tell her who you truly are, and if you still want her to trust you, then you should keep your mouth shut. For now, at least."

Hirsent nodded. "I'll keep on watching her. From the Dreamscape, and without telling her about anybeast's past."

"That's the best course of action," said Kiordan. "And I have a task for you."

"What is it?" The wolfess's ears perked up.

"You are to stay here and take care of my wife. She's starting to lose her memories, and we both know that the symptoms are going to be worse over time."

"Alright. I'll go do that." With that said, Hirsent simply vanished, no doubt eager to take care of her new duties and unaware that Marla was sleeping soundly next to Kiordan.

"Seasons, how much prodding does she need?" Kiordan asked himself. "I never had so much trouble with the previous three..." Maybe Isangrim would be able to help the both of them, Kiordan considered, before reminding himself that Isangrim was dead. No amount of Thaumaturgy would yank him back from the Dark Forest or Hellgates or wherever fishers like him go.

First Isangrim, then Marla... just like a meteor crashing down upon the world, everything seems to crash down around me. How many seasons have I got before I take my leave?

The otter gazed across the sky of the Dreamscape, and smiled sadly as the clouds parted and the sun sped through the heavens, burying itself behind the horizon. The Garlescan night sky was beautiful, and a memory of a royal otterpup counting comets, conjunctions and constellations surged into Kiordan's brain.

It's not the real thing. It's merely an old otter's dream of bygone days. But it's close enough.