[Tammo's Competition II] Take Your Place

[MathLuk]

This is the first of two fics that I will submit to the competition.

Spoiler

Pale white buildings displayed their reflections onto the canals, which connected the three lagoons to the harbour. Sharp, straight spires and domes the shape of turnips and pears pierced the sky, emblazoned with bands of sapphire and silver, even gold. For the less wealthy (or simply less proud) portion of the population, wide streets were lined up with wooden houses.
Vargo may be beautiful to a fresh pair of eyes, but after ten years of living in the city, its beauty seemed to shine to the pair of brown-furred weasels.

The elder seemed to have reached the age of forty seasons, though his fur has not started to grey. He seemed to always hang a smile on his muzzle. The younger oft had the same expression worn on his as well, though the smile seemed to have faded for once.

Skuli and Egil, though, were in a palace. As most palaces were, Vargo Castle was originally used as a military fortress against Dravain raids (despite being founded by Dravainers). As Dravania turned its attention West instead of South, Vargo forewent revenge, instead seeking to enrich itself instead - leading to a gamble that proved to be most important for Skuli Arnsson.

"So... what do you think of Thordan Swalestrom?" Egil's father asked. They had only been together for a few hours before the son was recalled to his father.

"He's... a very boring otter who makes the average rabbit seem like a hare - unless when he's talking about food." To be fair, Egil was always the talkative one, but when forced to meet a lord around his age, he was forced into being silent for once - mere vermin should not try to dominate the inside world of a lord. Being too straight-laced to initiate a proper conversation about anything Egil liked, Thordan went on and on about what he thought was interesting.

Skuli sighed. "Lords are like that. They always think that they are at the centre of the universe or something like it."

"I don't understand. What do you want me to do with Lord Thordan? His father owes you gold, I know, but what good would sending me to him do?"

Skuli sneered, as if Egil didn't understand a lot, which, in a sense, was completely true. The younger weasel was but a child at the age of fourteen seasons - the same as the otterlord.

The father then asked a question of his own. "What is the profit on investment that one can expect from plowing fields?"

"Ten times the investment," replied Egil.

"And the return on investment in pearls and jades is how much?"

"A hundredfold." Egil knew it all by memory - his brothers told him much about this trade and that. He had asked his father about all of this, though he still understood little.

"What about the return on investment from establishing a ruler and securing the state would be how much?"

"It would be incalculable!"

"Now if I devoted my energies to labouring in the fields, I would hardly get enough to clothe and feed myself; yet if I secure a state and establish its lord, the benefits can be passed onto future generations." Skuli smiled.

"I still have no idea of what you mean." Egil shook his head. "Thordan is his father's second-born son, and his mother's as well."

Skuli showed a grin which Egil was very familiar with, considering that he wore it as well. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Yes, father."

"Lord Holmger of Meraholmer is dying, and Lord Erlend wants his pup Thordan to be his heir to the islands."

Egil was familiar with Meraholmer - after all, he was born there, his father was born there, and almost all of his patrilineal ancestors as well. "What do I have to with all of this?"

"Your job, your duty is to befriend him. You must be the first vermin to talk with him face to face." Skuli never stopped smiling, as if he knew that his plans will come to fruition before they were even carried out.

"And what then? I will be stuck to a vain lordling for the rest of my life, while you add a few coins to your huge pockets?" Egil stared at his father. "I tell you, I am no pawn!"

Skuli sat impassively, yet still kept his smile. "You may be no pawn, yet Thordan is. You are lucky to have a father who cares about you, son."

"It doesn't seem like you care about me." Egil took a deep breath. "You must have hid your affection well."

"Lord Erlend left Thordan in a faraway kingdom thousands of leagues away from him." Upon hearing this, Egil's eyes seemed to expand in size, but they quickly managed to return to normal. "The poor kid must have a few friends in Triel, but none are here alongside him. He needs you more than you need him."

"And what do you want from our relationship?" Egil crossed his paws.

"To show him that vermin can be friends with woodlanders. I know how it is to be looked down and trodden down by those who considered themselves immaculate and sacrosanct. You do know my past, don't you?"

The weasel wasn't born particularly poor, but vermin were seen as subpar beings by woodlanders in Meraholmer. Finally buying himself a passage to Vargo after seasons of misfortune, and being mentored by the best of merchants (and admittedly, usurers), Skuli was able to gamble (metaphorically and  literally) his way to the top of the ladder. The blessings of his life were many - Skuli has enough gold to fill entire houses, the respect of all vermin in Vargo (and even the whole of Otharn), and three sons born of three different partners.

It was actually a common tactic - having numerous illegitimate children, and only legitimising the one with the most capabilities. Skuli was lucky to have only one son interested in succeeding him in his enterprise, though all three sons were a chip off the old block, being fun-loving weasels who have no idea what to do until the last second, then managing to do things well.

Eskil Skulasson was a young lad who had a stunning fondness for swearing, food and ale, but he had both of his father's cunning and stubbornness - traits that were treasured among merchants. He'll make a good successor to his father, and a few seasons managing the Garlean branch of the family bank shall do a lot of good.

Arn Skulasson had what his brothers clearly lacked - a sense of duty. He never felt at home in the cities of Otharn, and was the coldest towards his father. After too much introspection, the only thing Skuli could do was to send him off with his inherited portion of gold, and send his little sparrow on his flight. He is doing quite well with his little band of mercenaries, fighting alongside King Thordan against the forces of the Valeran league - which was a thorn in the sides of king and merchant alike.

That left Egil, his lastborn. Preferring play to work, Skuli had a purpose for him - a purpose that may or may not seal the entire legacy of the entire business.

The weasel continued his smile, though it was much more muted compared to before. "I will pay any price necessary to see an Islander Lord allowing us vermin to be treated just a bit better. I know that I will probably not live to see a vermin Lord of Meraholmer, so I will go for the next best option here. You will see to that Thordan understands you as well as you understand him."

"But how do you do that? He thinks I'm just some backwater vermin. He clearly is interested in me, but we are not friends yet." Egil said softly as he stroked his muzzle.

"Just be yourself this time. There is no victory without risk. If he likes you as you are, then he will treat you well. He will begin to like vermin, and treat them as well as any woodlander. Your would have to sacrifice everything to keep his friendship. If he does become the lord of the Islanders, you would have to see that he keeps woodlander and vermin balanced."

"Shouldn't we come step by step?" Egil wondered aloud. "We need to make him like us - or just me - first."

"I have just the right thing." Skuli reached for his pockets, and pulled out a small cloth bag. Opening in, a few figures were pulled out. Chess pieces. Wooden carvings of otters and foxes lay within Skuli's right paws. With smiling Leapers, solemn Runners, and Kings and Queens with glass-tipped crowns on top. Even the Pawns were well-crafted.

"An ottermaid peddler sold these to me for quite a large discount. Talked like a proper lady, but she got my jokes just the same. She said that they would make a great gift. After I bought it, there's this little voice in my head telling me that Thordan would like it, and so they made their way into your paws! Hooray!"

Egil stared incredulously at his father. "Alright. I hope he'll take me seriously this time. So I just walk up to him, apologise for being so quiet in our first meeting, and just give these to him, and invite him for a game of chess?"

"Correct!" Skuli jumped out of his seat. "Assuming Thordan has a chessboard, of course. Erlend told me he likes chess, though he cannot play it well." Both weasels laughed, Egil's a high-pitched guffaw while Skuli's a mere chuckle.

"Anyways, it's up to you to take your place as his friend and, perhaps, his advisor. You may even rise to become one of his favourites!"

"I will certainly try my best to do so!"

Skuli smiled as his son knocked on the otterlord's door, chess pieces clutched in his other paw. "Good luck! You can do it!"

The father whispered softly as he nodded to himself. "I know you can."

Paw and paw together clutched
Betwixt and between all eternities
We will no longer be rent asunder!
We will no longer be separated!
It is etched, Egil! It is etched!
Thordan Swalestrom, 635 AF

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