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Tranquil Waters: The Lead Crown Ch 7.6, Forgotten Promises Malcom, Part B

Brother Rhys and Runs-on-Air were moved from the pavilion while Prince Malcom and Lord O'Dell sat down to do business. Brought up the coast a short ways to a river delta, they were told to clean themselves and the guard escorting them about-faced, moving over the embankment to give them privacy, but not before adding. "And don't go wandering off... we're surrounded by wilderness for miles."

The Rat mind was racing through thoughts as he doffed his robe, taking the time to consider everything that he had come to learn. While there were still several holes in his knowledge he tried working through them while he waded slowly into the cold water wearing nothing aside from his under-britches. Beside him, Runs-on-Air was completely nude, and was so close Brother Rhys almost thought he was interested in more than getting clean. Only after they were a ways from shore and sternum deep in the water did the Buck speak up. "What is their talk?"

The Priest thought on the question a moment before he realized what Runs-on-Air wanted to know. "What are they talking about?" The Buck nodded, and Brother Rhys attempted to explain what he knew. "Lord O'Dell is doing this because he wants more power. He's trying to find a way to have his family line join with the royal line."

Runs-on-Air looked at him, a lack of understanding clearly on his face even before he attempted to paraphrase with what he knew. "Duke is fighting for power? How? Why?"

The Rat tried again. "He wants to marry Prince Malcom's sister."

The Buck still didn't seem to understand and his next several questions further illustrated the problem in a tribesman comprehending Lehsunian family lines. In the end, the Priest settled for the simplest of explanations. "They came here because Lord O'Dell thinks Prince Malcom can give him what he wants."

Runs-on-Air nodded slowly, apparently grasping enough information to put a picture of events together in his head. "And Wild-Wolf can do this?"

Brother Rhys shook his head then hesitantly shrugged. "I don't think so... but... maybe? It's hard to say."

The young Buck moved back toward the shore, "What if he does not?"

The Priest flinched as he thought about it, moving after Runs-on-Air. He didn't want to lie, so he admitted what he believed the likely outcome to be. "I think the Wyranese will kill everyone."

Giving his whole body a shake, the Buck ran a paw through his fur and then picked up his loin cloth. "Tell Wild-Wolf, 'Ulit Amih oah eh Wenyai'u'Pmah.' Can you tell him this?"

Brother Rhys paused in picking up his robe, water dripping to his fur and making his under britches heavy against his hips. "Ulit Amih-- that's your name."

The Buck nodded, "Yes. Tell him 'oah eh Wenyai'u'Pmah.'."

The Rat blinked. "You can tell him."

Runs-on-Air shook his head. "No. I must go. Tell him. Let me hear you say it."

The Priest dropped his robe. "You can't go-- the guards--"

The Buck reached out and rested a paw on the Rat's shoulder. "I must go. Say it."

There was no arguing with Runs-on-Air. Frowning, the priest did his best. "Oh-ah eh When-yie ooh P-mah."

His companion nodded. "Yes. That is good."

still frustrated about the situation, the Rat picked his robe back up and wriggled into it even as he attempted to shirk his soaked under clothes. "The guard said not to--"

By the time he was back into his robe and had his head free of the cloth, Runs-on-Air was already gone. The Priest sighed; apparently he'd have to do more than deliver a message... he had to explain a missing tribesman to the guard. Inhaling a deep breath, Brother Rhys took comfort in the fact that he was a Priest; even the notoriously difficult soldiers from Wyra tended to listen to Priests... usually.

The guard, as it turned out, didn't care in the least. As the Bull Dog led him back toward the tend he stated simply, "Just one a ya is easier to watch... if he went and got himself drowned or lost that's his own problem. I warned ya, and that's good enough."

The guard waited with him until the tent flap to the pavilion moved aside and a particularly agitated-looking Lord O'Dell emerged. He glanced first to the Bull Dog and then to the Rat. The Red Wolf squared his shoulders, "You're fortunate that you are aligned with the Church, Priest... otherwise this visit could have turned poorly for you very quickly."

The Duke did not give Brother Rhys a chance to respond, instead, he stormed off, leaving the Rat with even more unanswered questions. The guard ushered him into the large tent and closed the flap behind him. It took the Priest's eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light of the pavilion but when they did, Brother Rhys was not comforted by the sight of Prince Malcom nursing a bloody nose. The Wolf looked up at him, offering a strangely serene smile. "It went better than I had originally feared."

Despite the injury, the Prince was in a suprisingly good mood. It took a few minutes for Brother Rhys to get the full story out of the Wolf, but when he did he was even less inclined to see how Prince Malcom was able to be so positive. Lord O'Dell had spoken with Princess Noriene in an attempt to get her to commit to joining their family blood lines. He had wanted her to marry him but she counter proposed having him help her ascend to the throne so she could have Thaddius marry Lord O'Dell's sister. Apparently he settled for the compromise with her before trying for something better with Prince Malcom.

According to the Prince, Lord O'Dell offered HIM the aid he'd need to claim the throne of Lehsunia in exchange for giving him Princess Noriene's hand in marriage; Prince Malcom declined. The discussion had started civil but every time Lord O'Dell pressed and bullied the royal Wolf, Prince Malcom had become further unyielding... and eventually started pushing back. The end result was a great breakdown in diplomacy. The dark furred Wolf smirked. "I suppose he expected that I would fold under pressure."

Brother Rhys slowly pulled the Prince's paws away from the injury and took the bloodied cloth from the Wolf's grasp before tending to the broken skin for him. "He holds all of the cards at this time, your Highness.. shouldn't you be concerned that you might push him too far?"

Prince Malcom remained still while the Priest cleaned the blood from his fur, but he smiled nevertheless. "Lord O'Dell is here by his own will and the auspices under which he appropriated the ships and soldiers is clandestine at best."

The Rat smiled just a little at the Prince's words. "Sometimes you confuse me, your Highness... you fit in so well with the Tribesmen yet you speak as well as any genteel or scholar. It is a good confusion, I must admit."

The Wolf reached up and pulled Brother Rhys' paw away from his nose, taking the cloth back. "It often leads most settled folk to underestimate me... just as they underestimate the rest of The People. In this case, that will work to our advantage."

Brother Rhys was going to question the Prince's logic but he paused, suddenly remembering. "Runs-on-Air left..."

Prince Malcom's ears raised as he brushed his nose one final time. "Oh?"

The Rat nodded. "He snuck off into the grasses near the river... but he told me to tell you oah eh Wenyai'u'Pmah."

The Wolf's smile widened even more. "Good... that's... fortunate."

Brother Rhys nodded, slightly relieved by the Prince's reaction. "What does it mean?"

Prince Malcom stood up and went to the small, squat, table that adorned the middle of the floor. "He said he would be returning to his tribe. Based on our earlier talks I'm certain he knew how this would turn out... and I believe he'll be seeking help."

The Priest fidgeted. "So... you mean to fight the Wyranese forces?"

The Wolf nodded with certainty. "If I have to."

Brother Rhys fidgeted more, taking a seat on one of the pillows strewn about the pavilion. "The Grass Tribe is sorely outmatched. I don't know how--"

He was interrupted as a Berro, Prince Malcom's large wolf wriggled underneath one of the tie-downs of the tent. "Uuf."

The Prince held out his arms and Berro moved eagerly to him, wrapping his head and neck around Prince Malcom's shoulder. The Prince scratched him all over and patted him, using the physical interaction as a chance to pull a piece of paper free from the lanyard holding the wolf's stone amulet. Brother Rhys' ears raised as he saw Prince Malcom read it. "What's that?"

Prince Malcom's smile widened. "Word from the Oak, Valley, and Jungle Tribes."

The Rat realized that he had once again underestimated the Prince, and he resolved to think better of him in the future. "Your Highness, did you know that this would--"

Once again the Priest was interrupted, this time by the sound of a loud metal-on-flesh impact, and the pavilion shook as a heavy weight fell against the front canvas. A moment later the tent's flaps were pushed aside as a Wyranese soldier dressed in field plate shoved the unconscious Bull Dog guard inside. Prince Malcom's tail began to sway, "I'm glad you could make it, Henry."

The soldier raised the visor from his helm, revealing a grizzled, smirking Human face within. "Beggin' yer pardon, Prince... took longer travelin' to th' Wenyai'u'Nis than I uhspected. They said they'd 'elp."

The Prince nodded thoughtfully. "And they'll want something else in return..."

The man named Henry let out a chuckle, "Sure do."

Brother Rhys interjected. "Wenyai'u'Nis? That's a Tribe, right?"

The Human grinned. "Sure is. Bone Tribe."

He didn't know much about the Tribes but he remembered hearing something about massacres and kidnappings of missionaries always having to do with Jackals, and Jackals were... "B-bone? The BONE Tribe? Those are Jackals, aren't they? They--"

The Human smirked, shooting a glance toward Prince Malcom. "Sure are-- only people feared and despised more'n th' Kaumaka."

"Cow-mock-uh?"

Henry's smirk grew. "The Unclean.".

The Prince nodded. "It helps to know all kinds."

Despite that particular logic being exact opposite to most edicts of the Church, Brother Rhys was starting to become frightened that the Wolf would end up broadening the Priest's horizons. No matter what happened, the Rat realized that it was going to require a lot of contrition.