"Gods... how is it you manage to pad along such terribly kept paths for... for so long?" Panted Æðelric, the haggard and bloodied nobleman hardly managing to keep up with his spry companion. The tribal man looked back, smiling and tilting his head to the side, "Oh come now your magesty! How is it you expect to regain your kingdom without wal-" He cut himself short, glancing back forward and ducking under a particularly low branch, his awareness keen as always. "Without walking a few rivers!" Finished the man, giggling as he turned his attention back to the path ahead, his jewelry gently clinking as he tightened his grasp at the straps of his bag. The aged man huffed to himself, furrowing his brow. The words of Wenke, the shorter bejeweled tribal-cat rang through his mind... to regain his kingdom... It'd been only a few cycles of the moon, the man thought, since that day. It'd hardly been a week after the coronation; he'd been his father's successor, his eldest born son, groomed for succession since the very beginning... and then, it was all pulled from below his feet. It'd been terrible enough that succession came with the passing of his dearest father, but to be betrayed by his own blood? That was almost too much to bear. He was pulled from his stupor as he looked up, jumping back suddenly as the shorter cat swung down from a tree's branch before his face, giggling gleefully at the man's reaction.
The man panted, his face almost reddening at how frightened he'd become, his hand hovering over the sword that hung beside his hip, the one thing those bastard usurpers hadn't stolen from him... beyond the shirt on his back. Wenke pointed, laughing himself near to the point of choking, the man's initial embarrassment turning to pointed frustration, crossing his arms and lifting a brow. His breath still short, he pipped up, "You think it wise to play such petty tricks on a king? Why... why... if I hadn't been so quick-witted, I'd have surely mistaken you for a common brigand and cleaved your skull!" Wenke gasped, though it'd been rather obviously feigned as it led into another laugh, swaying side to side as he giggled and shook his head, "Oh Æðelric, you've need to lighten up! It's true, moon's gloom is important, but it's the brightness of the sun that makes the flowers grow! It's clear something is troubling you, my deposed companion, so why not tell it? Not like you've much further down to go, fraternizing with savages and all!" He smirked, waving a hand over himself. The king snorted; He had to admit, while the man had a way of getting on his nerves at times, he'd also a gifted tongue. He let his arms rest at his sides again, one clasping at his haunch as he nodded forward. Wenke replied to his suggestion to return their march by offering his hand to lead the kingly feline. The man shook his head, motioning the cat's hand down, following besides Wenke.
"I suppose it shouldn't come to me a surprise that you'd be so curious, of such things my lips have been tighter than an abbess the whole three days we've been traveling, haven't they..." The smaller cat nodded, leaning even closer, excited that he may be finally unraveling why he'd been leading this man so long. Æðelric hummed, grunting and nodding. His hand slipped into his cloak, drawing a wineskin and uncorking it. He took a draw of the deep burgundy liquid within, a divine taste he'd grown accustomed to. He looked to his companion, holding it outward. The man gasped, looking to the bag, then up to the him. The noble nodded slowly, the tribesman quickly taking the skin in his hands, excitedly setting the nozzle to his lips and sipping at it. The flavor was deep and intense, a sort of stinging flavor... at least that's all Wenke could think, unable to exactly put the flavor in terms of words. He'd liked it, it was smooth and fine, but oddly dry for a beverage. He almost wanted to try another sip, but was frightened to appear greedy, instead handing it back to the king, who corked it and set it within his fine garb. "Mighty gracious of you, good ser..." He spoke, the man nodding, "It is custom within the court, that when such personal matters are shared among men, both should drink. You see, it's alcohol that loosens the lips my boy, and if any were to be disingenuous in his pursuit of knowledge, it'd all come to light while drinking." His companion snorted, thinking to himself that it had sounded like an excuse to get more hammered than the monks in the monasteries, but he decided he'd hold his tongue.
The noble huffed at the obvious humor his other took in his words, shrugging it off and nodding, "If you want to know the full tale, then so be it... but if even you betray me, then mark my word, all of the Terro shall perish..." The man's eyes were serious, the shorter feline nodding quickly, taken aback by how sullen the noble had suddenly come off. The man cleared his throat, nodding, "I'm sure even those of tribes such as yours may know... two moons ago, my beloved father, King Cyneheard the Fifth... left us." He nearly choked the last few words out, the hurt still present in his heart as he felt tears try to well up in the his eyes. His father was the only person of the court besides the master of arms that he'd ever cared for, and in return he was one of the only people to ever return his love. He held back his tears, looking up to the foliage above to keep it in, his eyes shimmering under the low light that breached the trees around the two. When he'd finally felt himself steadied, he drew his eyes back down, humming, "And of course, being his most senior child, it was I who'd been groomed to rule. I'd all the education one would expect, from studying among the scribes to tutorships under all the wisest men of the kingdom. I'd been raised in the ways of my father, to rule as my family should, with strength and determination! And yet, just when I'd had it all, when I'd finally taken my rightful place, when I'd claimed my birthright... It was removed all too fast..." Wenke stared with bated breath up to the man as they continued forward, the noble's shoulders trembling somewhat, his voice strong, as it always had been, yet wavering. The man had paused, but he had to know. He always had a feeling he'd been with someone of true importance, ever since he'd found his body battered and bloody in the forest and laid eyes upon that signet he wore... He had to finally hear it. The king cleared his throat, "You see, it was seen as fitting that the courts of all the land might meet after the coronation for a most exquisite and grand royal hunt, to... send off the great man who'd preceded me, and to for me to be finally brought into my duties as king. But then... those devils... those good for nothings... they saw to it that they must seize power for themselves..." His fist shook as he raised it, staring down at it as he slowed his pace, stopping for a moment as he held in the deep want to scream out into the woods.
His halfwit siblings. Those damnable vipers who'd stolen all that was his, and so soon after he'd gained it... He caught into a fit of coughs after a moment, gripping his side and wincing as he hunched, the younger man rushing to his side and helping him to sit on a fallen tree, the older man coughing as he nodded in thanks. He clutched at his wounds, sighing as he continued, "My siblings and I, we've never held a close relationship. My elder sister was always stand-offish... a roguish harlot, she'd always had it out for me, simply because I'd be the successor. When I was young, she'd conspire to break my windows and to soak my clothes in the cold months, to fill my meals with rotten and filthy things, with hopes I might grow sick and die! For she could never stand..." He paused, his fist shaking with rage again, the coughs rising once again to cut him off. He shook it off best as he could, "... She couldn't stand being out the spotlight... Eight or so years she was when I'd been born, and thirteen years she was when she'd learned who was rightful heir. Surely one couldn't blame a child for what she'd done, but it continued longer, and longer, even into adulthood... and then of course, my younger brothers. The miraculous twins they were, of course twin pains ever since they were conceived... They'd killed my mother when they were birthed, those bastards, and they killed my spirits when they'd grown enough to learn the same lessons as my sister... It'd always been their intent to make a fool of me, to make me look an ass, to belittle and... and..." He smacked his fist into the stump, rising up over Wenke, who'd been crouching at his side to listen to him, his eyes widening as the man pointed, shaking his hand, his voice rising as the coughs returned, "Those rogues! I'll see to it they all taste the steel of my blade, that their last meal is one of worms and dirt, that their bodies are strung up, and they're treated as any treasonous ignoble little wenches would! It was they who'd bloodied me so, who'd left me in the state you'd found me in! Struck my horse with their arrows they did, their shots sure, my brothers then riding to my side, trampling me with their horses and throwing me down the hill... Thought they'd killed me they must have, after they'd stabbed and battered me... yes yes, their plan was all too clever... They must have followed me for hours and hours, knowing all my favorite parcels of hunting land lay far from the prying eyes of the other councilmen... perfect places where they'd slaughter me like a dog, so that they might bring their 'good' news to my dragon of a sister... So clever, they must have thought themselves..."
The man threw his hands outward, "But here am I! A dead man alive! King Æðelric has seen the grave, has peeked beyond the veil, and he now walks the earth anew! King Æðelric facing a tragic death? In his woods? Idiots! Idiots the whole bunch of them! The whole council! My whole court! All of them fools! My... my... my whole kingdom of sodden halfwits! Surely they're taking in the news without an inkling of suspicion! All... of course... except my master of arms-" Wenke's eyes widened at this revelation, suddenly interjecting, "But if you've someone who holds suspicion within the court, why would anyone take the word of your siblings truthfully!?" He squeaked out. The king shook his head, stepping back to the tree as he began his hacking again, coughing as he sat, the tribal cat reaching to pat his back, the nobleman pressing his hand away and shaking his head. He continued to hack as he withdrew the wineskin from his cloak again, quaffing it before presenting it to the younger man. While he wanted to tend to his companion... he couldn't deny the offer, taking the bottle and this time drawing a far greater sip from it, letting it linger in his mouth a moment before he swallowed it, sighing happily as he passed it back to the man, whose coughing had finally relented. He spoke up again, "Boy, you understand not the ways of nobility. It may be that under the structures of your tribes such words may be heeded but within the courts they hold as much worth as a fart to the wind. In the minds of the lords and ladies of Seltebia a master of arms has naught that the princes and princess of Seltebia has... with regards to clout and believability. If they say I'd died in the woods, a shifting in the rocks taking my steed and I to kingdom come... then to the rest of the land it is so." He drew his eyes up to meet those of Wenke, the feline panicking as he was caught staring, looking away for a moment before looking back. "That is why I am so troubled. I am troubled because there's a damned idiot on the throne, likely being puppeteered by his far more intelligent and conniving brother and sister... And there's no doubt they're out there, ruining my name and the name of my kingdom so that they may hold even greater power and so they may ensure power for all their friends... clique politics and all that..." He scoffed, spitting to the ground beside him and taking another swig, passing it back to the cat, who obliged.
As the noble was handed back his wineskin he pressed the cork back into place, pushing the skin into his cloak and rising softly, the young king nearly doubling over as he hacked again, clutching his wounds and waving Wenke away from trying to help, the shorter feline springing to attention. "See... see... do you see it now? Is your curiosity sated?" he coughed. "I suppose it is... And I suppose it explains everything else I'd been wondering..." Wenke sighed. The two stood in silence for a moment, the larger man feeling he'd surely break something if he kept pondering what had happened. He looked up, staring at the overgrowth. He didn't know this part of the woods well, in fact he was sure they were so far out that he'd never set foot here in his life... but he had known the forest, and the sights, sound, and scents about him weren't unfamiliar. The wind rustled the foliage around him, dancing through leaves and rustling all that covered the ground, the forest alive in a beautiful and calming symphony. He sighed, drawing his gaze back down as he focused at breathing. The shorter cat stared at the man. He was tall, though not particularly wide or large. In fact, he'd been shockingly average for a king, at least from what he could tell with his half-cloak on. Still, his clothes were fine, battered and coated in bandages as they were. He'd already been helping him for a few days, but initially he simply thought he must have been some merchant who'd hit his head while hunting... but now... now it all made sense, all the pieces slotted into place... and Wenke knew that he had to see to it that this man sat atop his throne again. They stood, both deep in their own thoughts for a time, the leaves dancing about their feet as blanches swayed overhead. After some time passed, the tribal cat broke the silence by stepping forward, the king looking down to him, a surprised expression on his face. He wasn't exactly shocked that he'd started moving... just that he hadn't been speaking. He nodded in return, following the feline.
It must have been hours that they walked, trudging through riverrun after rivverun of forest, raising and falling in elevation often and rapidly. The king was active enough, he'd thought, but this was starting to become exhausting. He'd been panting, just like earlier, and his companion was ahead, as he had been earlier that day. Constantly darting about the woods, poking around for various things of interest, searching for where their next path was. He'd been so used to simply continuing forward that when he'd stilled, it came as a shock. The cat looked back, a smile on his face, the king's puzzled expression making him giggle. He wordlessly nodded forward, clearly holding something in store, and then the noble realized. They stood at the treeline. The main and largest part of the great expanse of wood that was the Verðian Expanse had been over, and they were surely safely outside of range of any search party that could be sent out if anybody had caught wind that he hadn't died. He clutched the pommen of his sword, steeling his nerves and walking forward. What met his eyes as he stepped into the red-yellow tinged dusk of the world left him awe-struck. Vast verdant fields, fertile and clean, stretched for what felt like forever, bisected only by occasional wood, farmland, and rivers. The trees shook and swayed in the crisp cool wind, the breeze making his clothes flutter, the breeze blowing over his sweat-drenched brow, cooling his head as he stared out in amazement. The plentiful and gorgeous fields and hedges led eventually to foothills, slowly crawling and pressing further and further up until they could no longer, terminating in that massive mountain he'd known so well all his life. The incredible Lanze von Giefe, its pearly white peaks painted pink and gold by the setting sun, shimmering brightly as it pierced above the clouds, stabbing skyward, truly deserving of its name, "the lance of Giefe", the god of war, the god of struggle... the god who he'd held now in his heart as above all others; his patron deity. Even now, confronted with such incredible marvelous beauty, Æðelric still found yet more to take amazement in. As he and the tribal cat walked further from the woods, he could hear the flowing of a stream, its water dark and clean, bubbling and flowing past the many rocks that pierced its surface, bisecting a splendid marble ruin.
He'd read books of such ruins, sprawling complexes of marble, granite, and gold, some even painted or lined with exquisite gems and materials. These were the ruins of a no doubt once might civilization, one that the young king had no doubt must have fallen due to the greed of others... This complex had been less impressive than those woodblock prints he'd viewed in awe throughout his boyhood, consisting of a few crumbling pillars and some blocks, overgrown and reclaimed by nature itself, the pillars slowly swallowed by the trees and shrubbery around them. "The ancients who built these aren't known to anyone." Wenke suddenly broke the silence, drawing the noble's eyes before he continued to stare in wonder about him. "There exists not a single shred of who they were. Not a name, not a story, nothing. Not even the most learned scholars of your kingdom know, and not even the wisest shamans of my tribe know, so knowledgeable in the stories of the past are they, trained by the tales and stories of many shamans before... And yet, nobody knows." The short cat hummed, the idea always fascinated him. It'd been one of the reasons he'd never returned to his tribe. The mysteries of the world fascinated him, drew him, like alchemist's magic-infused stones to metal... It'd been years since he left, sent out to find himself in the world. He was only a boy then, trusted to find a way. Yet here he was, plentiful moons away, and he still hadn't sought to find his tribe's new camp. The wind whistled through the ruins gently, a soothing song to his ears as he softly drew his waterskin off the side of his pack, placing it on one of the stones as he began at untying his bedroll. He looked up to the noble, deep in thought as he pondered the sights before him, drawing his eyes away as he laid down the roll, hefting his bag onto the ground drawing it open, pulling from it his 'krągsił', a small wooden circle, bound with leather and long straps, he set it over his shoulder, not bothering to unravel the straps as he began to collect twigs and dead logs for a campfire.
"Maybe it'd been greed." Suddenly spoke up the king, the smaller feline's ear twitching as he hummed, "Maybe so. Kingdoms, empires, they die for many reasons." Responded the tribal cat, the noble turning his head to watch him, hisself resting upon one of the great marble slabs as his companion picked about the ground, taking into his arms various lumber and tinder. He nodded, thumbing at his chin, "This is true. The last four centuries alone have heralded the deaths and births of plentiful dynasties, all of whom fading to obscurity for one reason or another. From Auruleje to Duvškrovi... of course, I studied all of these thoroughly... the conundrum of this lost empire though... it always was a point of fascination for me..." The shorter feline's tail whipped side to side, a natural reaction to the excitement of intellectual conversation. It wasn't often he'd had company while travelling, letalone someone who knew as much as he. He suddenly pipped up, wanting to keep the chat alive, "'Mrtvázlovi' to the peoples of the Dnieprovnishni range, 'Shu'ukh'akimunn' to the desert-dwelling Tamii, the 'Stjącuchy' to my people, and of course those everlasting 'Ewige Vorhut' to your own." The king was taken aback. He'd met few tribesmen in his life, and while he'd often found them to be wordly enough, he never thought of them to be so knowledgeable of the lands as his companion. "Forgive me, but you're well-studied for a tribal, who taught you so?" He pressed, the feline pausing in building his fire. His back sat turned to the noble, shaking a small bit. Worried he'd offended the man who'd saved his life, Æðelric was about to speak up when suddenly Wenke burst into laughter. The man was confused, giving a small polite laugh, coming off a bit awkwardly, untrained as he was in the important courtly skill of feigning a laugh. The feline wiped away tears, laughing still as he paused in building the fire, shaking his head. "You noblemen, no matter where you're from, you all say it the same! And just like the rest, I'm sure you'll be shocked all the same, for you see, it wasn't any one man, any book, any shaman who taught me so; it was instead my travels." He snickered. The smaller cat had hit the nail right over its head, the king was taken aback.
He supposed it wasn't too shocking to learn so much from going so far and wide, but he knew some of the vague details of the customs of the tribes about his lands, to have travels meant something very different to the tribal people. He was taken aback, he'd hardly ever heard of many tribesmen traveling so far and wide. He spoke up, "But of course, though truthfully, it does confound me how you could go so far in such little time!" Wenke kept laughing and laughing, smiling as he set the last piece of the fire into place, standing and walking to the noble, stopping in front of him, a little smirk on his face, a twinkle in his eyes, "Who said my travels lasted so little time?" He grinned. The larger man kicked off the stone, stepping behind the cat as he searched through his bag, drawing out a small piece of flint and a battered piece of steel. "But..." The man whispered, cut off as Wenke looked back and rose up, stepping past the king and continuing toward the fire, "Why do you think I'd been in those woods when I found you?" He playfully interjected. The king was amazed. Usually tribes sent people out when they were just boys, and usually they'd come back before they'd truly become men. It wasn't that they were simple, it was just far easier to find yourself, to find your place in the world, to find what you'd wanted when you were truly given the freedom to choose it. At least, that's philosophically what he'd pieced together from the words of his father on the subject. Yet here stood his companion, a true to life tribesman who'd still been on his travels, so many years after they'd begun. He was about to continue pressing him on this topic, curiosity burning in his mind as the feline struck flint upon steel, suddenly cutting him off as sparks flew forth. Crack, crack, crack, and then a hot fwoosh as the tinder took to the flame, a sort of moss tucked within it, something the cat had brought with him from his bag. He poked softly at the flames with a stick, ensuring the logs and everything were set in place as the fire grew. Finally, nodding in satisfaction, he stood tall, arching his back and taking in a deep breath as he took the ring off from his shoulder, slowly unraveling its straps.
He turned to the king, who stared back at him. "Forgive me, your magesty, but there's a pressing matter at hand. Just as it's customary for your people to drink when talking, so too is it important for my people to do things. Seeing as we've set camp, I've a thing or two to set to, but you can make yourself free to lay over my bedroll and get some rest. You've had a long day, no?" Wenke chuckled softly, the king nodding at his words. It then all hit him, the aching in his legs, the burning in his feet, the sweat over his body. He was tired, there was no other way of stating it. He nodded to the feline, "Of course, of course, though my position may be high, as my... as my father had, I see no reason to impede on such rites." The tribal cat nodded in thanks as the king walked back to the bedroll, removing his half cloak and laying down. The ground was as soft as dirt, which was to say not very, but it certainly beat bleeding to death with his skull bashed over a rock. He rubbed at the cloth tied about his head, wincing as he pulled his cloak over himself. What a strange day it had been... Just this morning, he saw himself as king over the lands about him, ready to prove himself a skilled huntsman, excited and proud to finally show his father what he'd become... even if his father was watching from beyond the grave. Now here he lay, bruised and bloodied, aching and sore, traveling alongside not only a commoner, but a tribal commoner, a type of people considered not technically possible to rule by kings before him, people even the most brash of catchpoles wouldn't tax... if they could even find their constantly moving campgrounds. Someone he'd only seen enough times before that he could count it on a single hand, even if he'd lost a few fingers! He rolled onto his side, watching as the lithe feline slowly drew his hands into the air, the cloths hanging from the ring in his hands beginning to softly lift with the wind... and in that moment, he felt something almost magical. He gazed, watching in awe as it almost felt that the aura around him had begun to shift and change. The feline would step, twist, and turn, gently bringing out and swaying the ring over the fire, its straps and bands fluttering and blowing in the breeze, the fire flickering and licking at the wind, and with it the aura... this indescribable feeling in the air... would shift, bend, and change. He'd known magii and wizards before, plenty had been through his father's court, many of the people he knew could even cast simple cantrips and party-trick sorceries... but this felt different.
Then, the sound hit him. The soft gentle voice of Wenke, rising up with the wind as his feet softly beat into the ground, dashing dirt as he danced to the wind, his language, not known to the king, starting in a hushed whisper with the low winds, rising into a booming wavering chant. It was a sound that had reminded him of when the Sheikhs and Emirs of the kingdoms littered throughout the dunes and oases of that grand and sandy Tarkhiri desert. Their entourage would always include criers and magii, men who had a powerful aura about them, whose voices alone felt like they'd commanded even the season's respect. Yes, the cat's singing was like theirs, at their call to pray toward the gods... they'd prayed to similar gods under different names, it made him wonder if it was similar at all for the tribes. He pondered as his eyes followed his tribal companion, watching his silhouette shift and bend before the fire, clothes and bands fluttering as the wind picked up and up, rising and growing as he felt the 'energy' for lack of a better term of the space around him shift, the feeling altogether incredible and terrifying in its unfamiliarity, making the man grip at the cloak laid over him, as though he were a boy again, grasping his sheets in terror of some monster surely lurking under his bed... As suddenly as it started, the wind died out, collapsing as the feline spread his arms to the sides. Yes, there it was, that shift in energies again... yet, this time... it felt calming, relaxing and soothing... something about it eased his sudden anxieties, quieted his mind. His brain, once racing, now felt empty, so incredibly so that if he were truly thinking about anything besides how tired he'd been, he would have been shocked. As the feline rested over the fire, slowly bringing the ring down and concluding his song, so too did the king slowly bring his eyelids down. Gently, gently, until they shut, and the young king, so beleaguered by such a day as his... finally drifted off to sleep.
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This was a piece that I really enjoyed working on, a refreshing return to form so to speak. I haven't given myself the time to do something like this for a long while, to sit down and make something that was just focused on the beauty of the world, of the backdrop, and of the foreground. As such, I'm really happy with this one, and it's a piece that means a lot to me. I always mean to draw SFW art here and there, I just forget to give myself the time to sometimes, so it was nice to do it the proper justice a of a full rendered piece. The story was really fun to write as well, I love doing pieces like this, where every element of the process feels like it's full of fun and whimsy. More like this to come hopefully soon, as well as perhaps some continuation of the events of this image's story~! ^^
Here's a song I found that I really love ^^
