Matthias was still thinking about what Goldmark had told him when he arrived at the Long House. He'd never suspected such feelings to be buried in his friend's chest like that, as he had always appeared to be doing well. Now that he knew however, he could try to find some way to help.
At the very least, he'd given his friend something new to occupy his time. Though it had taken quite a bit more effort for him to employ, Goldmark had finally managed to shift into taur form. Charles wondered idly if certain species were more susceptible to such a change than others, after all, only a very few had been able to do it, once Misha showed them the way.
As it was the fox he was going to see at the Long House, he decided that he would pose that question before he was sent on whatever new scouting mission Misha would have in mind for him. After the tragedy nearly two weeks ago with the Patriarch, almost every able-bodied scout was spending at least part of each day scouring the hills for any trace of their phantom assassin. But aside from what they'd discovered that first day, nothing more had been found.
When he arrived though, he saw that there was a red panda dressed smartly in a brown tunic pacing before the door. It was Kershaw, whose long striped tail twirled at the sight of him, his narrow snout breaking open in a commanding grin. "Charles, good, I was expecting you."
Matthias nodded, not quite sure why the Long had been waiting for him though. "Misha asked me to be here by noon."
"I know," Kershaw said as he rubbed his paws together. "He grew tired of being cooped up in the office, so went for a stroll about the yards. Asked me to wait for you to bring you to him."
"Ah, I see. Won't I need to retrieve some equipment?" He pointed at the closed door to the Long House.
Kershaw placed a paw on the door thoughtfully for a moment. "Not yet, you don't know what Misha wants. I don't know what he wants either, he did not tell me."
Matthias pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth for a moment, and then nodded. "All right then, lead the way."
The red panda set off at a brisk trot down the hallway, the rat by his side. Neither said anything at first, letting only the sound of their toe claws as they walked across the masonry fill the air. And then, Kershaw let out a sullen grunt and spoke softly, "So, what were you before you came to Metamor?"
Matthias raised an eyelid. "Does it matter?"
"I don't know," Kershaw remarked sarcastically. "It may, depends on what you were before you came here."
"Why are you so interested in knowing, Kershaw?" Charles asked, sticking his thumbs underneath his belt as he walked.
"If you are going to be a Long, we will have to work together, won't we? I'd like to know I can trust you."
Matthias felt the sting of the accusation, but could hardly blame him for it. "Misha trusts me, shouldn't that be enough?"
Kerhsaw shook his head as they descended a set of stairs. It led them out underneath a portico, and into the open October air. It was a surprisingly warm day for so late in the season. There would be few like it left in the year, before the winter frost clutched the heart of the valley. Dead leaves littered the walkway, being blown about by the wind, even as the groundskeepers worked diligently to keep them clean.
Matthias followed after the red panda, holding his tongue as they followed the length of the castle wall towards a courtyard. Kershaw however, did not remain silent for long. "It is not enough for me."
The rat tightened his grip on his belt, the claws biting into the thick strap. "I told Misha of my past, and he believes it to be of no importance. Don't you trust your own commander? Don't you think that if Misha thought it important he would tell you of it?"
Kershaw opened his mouth to say something more, but then closed it again. He pointed around one bend of the castle wall. "He's just around the corner." Charles glanced up, and saw that the corner was still several ells away, and so the fox might not have heard their argument. Even so, he was already embarrassed at the very notion of discovery.
And so, in silence they continued the rest of the way, only glancing at each other meaningfully the moment before they turned that corner. Misha was standing in the middle of a broad avenue along the base of the castle wall. His back was to them as he ran his fingers along the masonry, studying the grooves and nicks. Whisper lay against one side, nearly steaming from practise.
"Ho, Misha," Kershaw called out, and Matthias was quick to echo the greeting.
"Ho Kerhsaw, Charles!" Misha cried out softly. The two of them approached, sharing smiles and warm expressions for a moment. "Sorry, I wasn't there in my office, Charles. The walls were beginning to close in on me anyway."
Matthias shook his head, whiskers twitching in delight. Already, the presence of the fox had brightened his mood. "It is all right, I understand. Besides, this will probably be the last day we can freely walk about without bundling up."
"One of the last anyway," Misha nodded in agreement. "Of course, we have fur, so we can stand the cold better than our still-human brethren. Lisa is already bundled up so tightly, you could push her onto her side and roll her down the town square!"
The three of them laughed at that, before Kershaw nodded once to the fox, and stepped several paces back, to allow the two of them a private conference.
"So, what is it that you need me for?" Charles asked softly, his eyes straying to peer at the red panda a moment before returning to Misha.
"Nothing too terribly important," Misha remarked, gazing up along the length of the wall. With one paw, he reached out and snatched Whisper, twirling it between his fingers. "We've not had a chance to talk much these last few days."
"I know, every one has been very busy."
"I think that things are going to calm down soon enough though. It has nearly been a fortnight since the incident with the Patriarch. His murderer is long gone by now, which is unfortunate."
Matthias nodded, trying not to let the sorrow they'd endured overwhelm him. "I wonder when Phil, Hough, and Muri will return from his burial."
"Sometime next week I expect. At least that knight is up and walking now."
"Egland, I think his name is," Charles remarked absently, his eyes watching the twirling axe blade.
"Yes, that is it. Apparently he's becoming a deer. Right in the middle of season for them too, he's going to have an interesting first few weeks I imagine."
It took the rat a moment to realize just what the fox had said. When he did so, a small smile crept over his features, a chuckle bubbling up from his throat. "Oh my, yes, he is in for a bit of a surprise then." He then brought his gaze resolutely into the fox's face. "Have you heard anything about Kashin? I never saw him again after that night."
Misha shook his head. "Nobody's heard from him apparently. He disappeared from Ellcaran shortly after the funeral service. You'd think it would be rather easy to keep track of a one-armed man, but he's most difficult to find."
"That's too bad. I rather liked him," Charles mused quietly.
"Well, Vinsah is still in his coma; Coe isn't letting anybody see him just yet. At least with Egland awake, Raven has her witness to ensure that Sathmore isn't blamed for this atrocity."
Matthias nodded. "Good, the last thing we need is a war to start because of this."
"Neither do I. But, just in case, Phil has asked that the Southern patrols be kept at increased levels through next summer. I'm going to want you to lead one of these patrols to the South. It won't be for a few days yet, but you will be making a full circle around the southern edge of the Valley, so you'll be gone for a few days."
"I hope it is as boring as can be."
"Why is that?"
Matthias chuckled, "I'd rather it be boring than exciting. Exciting means one is too scared and too crazy to do anything but keep going the way they think looks right."
Misha nodded, "True enough. I hope your patrol is boring as well." He then looked back at Kershaw who was idly smoothing out a small whorl in his arm fur. His eyes then strayed to the wall. Gripping Whisper tightly in his paw, he swung it in a smooth arc over the rat's head, and struck the masonry solidly. Sparks lanced away from the black edges of the blade, and bits of the stone clattered to the avenue.
"Just a little test for you, Charles," the fox winked mischievously. Matthias felt a bit of impending doom creep towards him as he looked into Misha's grey eyes. "Tell me which one of the marks is the one I just cut."
Matthias grimaced and walked over to the wall, running his paw across the slashes in the stonework, trying to feel which one was the warmest. He noticed Misha step backwards several paces, as did Kerhsaw. However, he did not pay them too much attention, as he ran his paws across the sharp mars, finding one that still held warmth within its creases. "This is the one," he said as he turned around.
"Now!" Misha shouted, his gaze peering resolutely up the wall.
Charles blinked in confusion, only to hear the sound of groaning metal far above him. Looking up, he saw a sudden bright red stream of fluid cascade out from the wall, plummeting relentlessly downward. He shuddered and closed his eyes, holding his arms over his head on instinct. The fluid was warm as it splashed about him, bathing him in its viscous touch. Yet, the sensation did not last long, and soon, Charles stood there dripping wet, and a rather bright shade of red.
He could hear Kershaw laughing to one side, and a chorus of familiar voices well overhead. Peering upwards, he could see many of the other Longs dangling their heads out the windows high above, waving and laughing as they gazed down at the rat. Charles turned on Misha, holding forth his arms, trying to wipe the clinging fluid from them. As he did so, he noted that they'd sunk into his fur, leaving it a bright pink.
"What in the world is this?" He asked, his voice a high-pitched squeal.
"Oh, just something that Pascal made." At the sudden intake of breath from the rat, Misha waved a paw, even as he did his best to suppress his own laughter. "Don't worry, it will wash out in a few days. You'd be a pretty useless Long Scout if you were bright pink all the time."
"A Long Scout?" Charles asked, a sudden grin springing to his face.
Misha beamed proudly. "That's right, Charles. You are now officially a Long Scout!" The laughter all about him turned to applause and cheers from the battlements above. Even Kershaw gave himself over to clapping, his paws striking together with a dusty rasp.
"That's, that's so wonderful! Thank you for judging me worthy to join your band!" Matthias beamed then, and then grimaced as he peered down at his pink fur. "But why did you have to choose pink?"
Misha grinned, gazing to one side of the courtyard. "Oh, I thought it would go well with your eyes." Charles followed his gaze though, and saw Arla and Meredith approaching with a large white sack. As soon as he saw the collie and bear, they ran forward, unfurling the cloth. "And now we want to show you off!"
"What?" Matthias cried out as he scrambled away. But the masonry beneath his feet was still slick with the dye, and so he fell to the ground, even as the other two Long's descended on him and wrapped him up in the sack. He tried to claw at the fabric, but again, the dye made his grip too slick to catch.
"Don't worry, Charles," Meredith said in his rather deep voice. "A little embarrassment is good for the soul."
"Help!" Charles cried out as Meredith pinned his arms behind his back with his massive paws and the sack. Arla drew the fabric closed, and tied the cinch off with a cord of rope. Then, the two Long's, all grins, lifted the struggling rat onto the bear's back. "Let me out!" Matthias cried as he felt himself hoisted into the air.
Misha came over and patted the sack with one paw. "Don't worry, we will, once we reach the town gates."
"But everybody will see me!" Matthias insisted, his voice a shrill cry.
"That's the point, Charles," Meredith assured him, a laugh thick in his ursine throat.
Arla snorted in amusement. "The way you drink, I'd think you'd be used to a little embarrassment."
The sound of the red panda's rich laughter filled the air, and was quickly joined by the others. Finally, Misha's voice broke through the hazy sights. Inside of the bag, Charles could make out vague silhouettes, but he could hardly concentrate on any of them, as he was wiping the pink dye from his face most of the time. That and trying to get it out of his nose, he'd not be able to smell anything for hours at this rate!
However, he could hear them all quite effectively, and with a sullen groan, he heard Misha say, "At least you now can say you have the distinction of being the first victim of the Long House's very own cauldron of boiling oil!"
The rest of the Long Scouts laughed once again, long and hard. Matthias grumbled as they carried him towards the town square, contemplating spending quite a bit of time with Goldmark in that wine cellar the next few days.
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