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Tranquil Waters: The Lead Crown Epilogue

As one of the Tribes closest to the Stone Tribe village of Vallara the Valley Tribe settlement was often a stop-off point for the various traders from The People. Roaring-Flood usually thought little of the travelers going to and from the market but the first group of men heading to Vallara that spring drew his attention for a number of reasons, but mostly because he finally decided to include himself among them.

The fisherbear had worked his nets with exceptional skill and luck in the prior months which meant he had enough surplus to considering selling something in Vallara himself. The travelers arrived like clockwork, reaching the Valley Tribe from points further East the day the first full moon of Spring was set to rise. Roaring-Flood had gathered the four large thatch baskets he'd use for transporting the dried fish he sought to take to the market and, hefting a large carrying stick on his shoulders he knelt down to thrust the left end through two basket tops before doing the same with the right. Flexing his legs, Roaring-Flood rose with a grunt, a pair of baskets hanging off of the wood on either side of his shoulders.

Bjarnn, one of the few men from Vallara who spent time among The People was gathering up the various traders from six different tribes; Roaring-Flood saw members of Yew, Oak, Grass, Willow, and Fir along with his native Valley Tribe-- Bjarnn was himself a large Bear, although his fur was thicker and longer than any of the locals and he wore the clothing of the Stone Tribe. Before Roaring-Flood had traveled the lands of Lehsunia he wouldn't have noticed just how different Bjarnn's clothing was but having experienced the Stone Tribe up close the fisherbear understood why the traveling Bear didn't sound the same as the other Stone Tribe when he spoke: he was not from Lehsunia.

Roaring-Flood moved to stand with two other members of his tribe that were readying for the journey; Shreds-of-Bark had a collection of polished stone beads while Against-the-Cliff was sealing up the various clay jars she used for storing her herbs. Bjarnn gave Roaring-Flood a nod as he stepped into place then then raised his voice to address everyone formally in the tongue of The People. "Hello, People."

They all responded in kind. "Hello, Friend-Bjarnn."

The fisherbear smiled to himself as he said the greeting again in his own head before mumbling a phrase in the Stone Tribe tongue he hadn't heard for quite some time. "That rhymes."

The announcement left Roaring-Flood with a mixed smile and a frown; the winter had been a harsh one for travel and he hadn't seen Sanmer in several months. The Fox had been one of the few things keeping the Bear sane during his travels through the Stone Tribe lands and Roaring-Flood had no doubt that his decision to travel to Vallara was for more than selling fish alone; Sanmer had moved to the village some time after the Bear had returned home to the Valley Tribe and had visited him almost weekly... but that ended with the snows.

The journey to Vallara was shorter than Roaring-Flood remembered but it also took longer than he knew it should have. The traders taking part in the trip were disorganized and many were not as fit for travel as others. In general Bjarnn chose a calm pace to cater to the slowest among them. Roaring-Flood kept his temper by constantly reminding himself what his brother had told him before leaving for the village of Graddin: "Patience wins wars fought in the mind like fortitude wins wars fought on the field."

Gift-of-the-Earth had always been a smart Bear and Roaring-Flood readily acknowledged it, but apparently he was the only one to be surprised when they discovered that Metal-Eyes had left a request with the village elders to consider him their Shaman after him. The celebration was village-wide and Roaring-Flood was certain that his brother cried at some point but he elected not to abuse or insult Gift-of-the-Earth about it; the brown Bear had spent years learning about the ways of the spirits and, despite Metal-Eyes telling him he was not ready there was no one more qualified in the tribe.

Eventually patience did win out and the traders arrived in Vallara; the Stone Tribe village, though small compared to other settlements Roaring-Flood had seen was still far larger than any of camps set up by The People. Bjarnn led the collection of merchants into the town and helped direct them to a large, open area where the ground was covered in square-cut stones, presenting an open, flat area where they could prepare their wares for sale.

The people of Vallara called it 'The Market' and it was situated on the eastern side of the village to make it easy for traders from the tribes to access. It was the final stop for most of the travelers but not for Roaring-Flood. The fisherbear stopped long enough to set down his baskets and get a promise from Shreds-of-Bark that he'd keep an eye on them while Roaring-Flood was away and then proceeded to the closest building he could find with the symbol of a cup with a handle. According to the lessons taught to him by Sanmer it was called a 'Tavern' and was the single best place in a Stone Tribe village to get information.

Roaring-Flood stepped in through the door and went immediately to a table and sat down. He waited almost patiently as people continued to mull around. After what felt like too long a time a red furred Fox woman approached him, setting down a small circle of paper on the table. She addressed him in the Stone Tribe tongue, thankfully slow enough that he could understand. "You a merchant? You speak Common, yea?"

He kept his response simple. "Yes. And Yes."

She let out a breath and nodded; the woman seemed relieved. "Alright... then what're you after?"

Roaring-Flood continued with straight-forward responses, hoping his luck held out as he sought the right words. "I look for a Fox."

The woman's tail puffed up like a squirrel's and she took a step away from the table. She started speaking fast which meant that the Bear lost most of what was said but he was left with the impression that he had either not made his request properly known or she misunderstood what it was he wanted. Eventually she must have realized he wasn't following and so she summarized slowly. "You can't buy women here."

The Bear huffed. "I look for Fox. WHITE Fox. Not buying."

Her tail curled around her leg half way and an expression of relief washed across her muzzle, followed quickly thereafter by embarrassment. "Oh. So... someone specific?"

He wasn't sure what 'specific' meant but he realized he was making progress. "Sanmer Lemarre."

The Vixen's eyes rolled. "Then this is DEFINITELY not the right place."

She looked like she was about to say more but her muzzle closed with an audible click as she glanced past him. Roaring-Flood was just about to turn around but he felt the cold bite of steal slide through the fur on his neck and a blade pressed up against the flesh of his throat. "Coming in here dropping a name like that could get you in trouble, big guy."

Roaring-Flood was tired of interacting with the Stone Tribe at that point and, though he realized he was being threatened he wasn't the least bit concerned. Reaching up, the Bear grabbed hold of the wrist holding the weapon and squeezed it until the paw opened. Twisting it sideways, he stood up and used the strength in his legs and his arm to off-balance his would-be attacker, sending him up and over his shoulder before he came crashing down onto the table, landing on his back.

Roaring-Flood raised his fist in anticipation of jamming it down into an offending muzzle but he froze when he saw Sanmer staring up at him with a grin. "Hi."

The entire dining room had stopped at the sound of Sanmer hitting the table but Roaring-Flood didn't much care that all eyes were on him. He picked the Fox up and threw him over his shoulder. He went straight for the stairs that went up to the sleeping chambers above; Sanmer didn't have to tell him which was his since he could smell it well enough.

Passing by a mirror, Roaring-Flood had no idea what the fists-with-just-the-thumbs-up meant that the Fox provided to the people in the room but he didn't bother focusing on it; It was the first time he'd seen Sanmer in months. The fisherbear learned some time past that the Stone Tribe didn't much care for loud noises. If that was true then he was certain that they were particularly disturbed by his several-hour stay in Sanmer's room.

* * * * * *

Of the many places Brother Jessen had expected to one day find himself the University of Progressive thought did not make the top ten... or even the top hundred. After the fall of the Inquisitors and the restructuring of the University there was, however, the sudden place available for him, and for more reasons than one. Not only had Alvis returned to classes but the Coyote had been identified by senior representatives of a new Theological Studies program the UPU had decided to explore.

The first several months were stressful in ways Jessen had not even realized possible; he spent half the time looking over his shoulder in expectation of an ambush and the rest of his time was a big mix of learning, studying, and surprisingly he also spent it teaching. The program, as it turned out took representatives from a variety of sects and divisions of faith and presented them to scholars interested in understanding the pursuit of divine knowledge and/or service to God.

Within the new framework of the University's exploration of the divine all aspects of faith and religion were welcome without persecution or offense. The fact that the UPU even had occasional representatives from the Tribes speak during classes had blown his mind but the time he was able to spend speaking about his connection with God as well as how there was no need for dogma to speak with one's diety was met with nod and thought rather than condemnation and persecution. Those experiences with the class, in fact, were extended in welcome for longer than he'd expected.

With almost three semesters of professor-aide activity behind him, Jessen had surprised himself by how well he had taken to the University-- and how well it had taken to him. Although not technically a professor, the majority of the students and even some of the faculty had a respect for him. The UPU did not acknowledge his 'Brother' standing but he often received deference that transcended a simple 'Mister'; the title most by most of those speaking with him was 'Instructor' and there was talk of him receiving an honorary Colligate certificate.

Although he understood that his work had merit Jessen had little doubt that a good portion of that positivity came from Alvis. The Husky-Shepherd had continued on in his studies and was finishing up his final series of classes; after that he would be qualified to take his final exams and then receive his certificate of knowledge, earning him the rightful title of Scholar. Not just that however-- the two were room mates... and more.

All of those thoughts and more floated through the Coyote's head as he lay in bed with Alvis in his arms. The two had agreed that they would take things slowly because Jessen still had to find a place for himself in his new life and Alvis still had his final classes to complete. That promise had lasted for all of a week before they'd returned to an intimate level but they still held true to the important meaning behind the promise: they wanted to know more about themselves and more about one another before they could truly commit.

The relationship had taken on a different tone once the frantic pace of close-calls and near-death engagements had come to an end. The fiery spark had become a warm glow as they both came to understand that they had more days ahead of them to explore where their feelings lay and what they were to one another. There were still moments of intimacy, both physical and emotional, but they were tempered by a greater understanding of one another and a far finer appreciation for whom they were with. It gave them both a chance to explore all there was to know about one another.

Brother Jessen often found himself against the fur on the back of Alvis' head as he considered some of his lover's finer idiosyncrasies such as the way one of his ear tips wilted slightly when he was embarrassed or the soft, almost puppy-like yip Alvis released when he was at his most excited. There were many such little personality quirks to him and the Coyote found himself desiring to-- no matter how long it took-- uncover them all.

Likewise, there were times when life was not so pleasant; Alvis had a faint wheezing-snore whenever he slept on his left side; the Husky-Shepherd smacked his lips and sloshed his tongue whenever he ate something particular sticky; he became nigh unbearable when he'd had a bad day in class because it meant he would mope around his room like a dog on a short chain. There was also the matter of the sound he made at the height of their lovemaking... but Jessen considered that a guilty pleasure-- he liked it far too much to be TRULY displeased by it.

His mind gravitated toward the first of the list as Jessen realized that they were both laying on their left sides and the Husky-Shepherd was, in fact, not snoring. He hazarded a guess as to why that was and spoke softly, giving Alvis a gentle squeeze. "You awake?"

The response was relaxed, but coherent. "Mmm-hmm."

The Coyote drew away from the Dog. "I'm not fidgeting too much, am I?"

It was one of his own personal quirks that Alvis had called attention to on more than one occasion but the scholar rolled over so they were muzzle-to-muzzle before shaking his head. "No... just passing up on sleep so I can enjoy the moment."

Alvis' smile was infectious and Jessen leaned forward so he could press his nose to the Dog's, pursing his lips to give him a dainty kiss. "Don't you have a test tomorrow, Alvis?"

His lover leaned a little closer and kissed him again, a little deeper. "Mmm-hmm... but I'm ready for it."

Jessen's paws slid around Alvis' body and pulled him closer still. Once their kiss broke he nibbled the Husky-Shepherd's cheek fur. "You got in that much studying?"

The Coyote's assumption as to which 'it' Alvis had been referring being ready for was proven wrong based on where the Dog's paw traveled after that. Jessen accepted the correction in good order and made short work on getting the excited yip out of his lover that he desired, followed a short while thereafter by the next sound he hated himself for liking so much. It was all par for the course and the Coyote was happy to have at it.

* * * * * *

Prince Thaddius yawned, stretching as he sat up amidst the fine silk linens of his bed. The late morning light filtered in through his closed curtains, providing him a subtle hint that he'd slept in. The entire concept of having his own life to run had been a great freedom for the first several months but after almost a year he had thought that he would have had himself together and organized, but apparently not.

Mumbling and grumbling, the Wolf stepped onto the slippers that awaited his paws on the cold stone floor. He shuffled across the chamber to throw the curtains aside, wincing as the full light of day assailed him. The Prince blinked the splotch in his vision away even as he recoiled from the window, moving over to where he'd set his day's clothes the night before; everything was organized perfectly from his leggings to his tunic but, as was customary, he started with his undergarments-- all perfectly red.

Once he was dressed, Prince Thaddius exited his room and followed his nose to his private dining room; unless he was mistaken the cooks had prepared for his fast breaking. Despite him not having a set schedule the castle staff had done admirably in learning his inconsistent habits and so he sat down to a steaming slice of ham along with eggs and some fresh bread. He sniffed at the two rolls sitting on the corner of his plate and smiled. "Mmm... cinnamon."

He ate with gusto and used the second of his two rolls to sop up the last bit of meat grease from his plate before excusing himself. The Prince made his way back into the corridor devoted solely to him and his family, stopping by the second door down to rap his knuckles gently against it. "Good morning, Wife."

It was a common greeting for him and despite the fact that he'd told her dozens of times that calling back a greeting was perfectly acceptable his ears picked up the sound of her rising and coming to the door. He stepped back as Princess Judith opened the portal and bowed her head to him. "Good morning, Husband."

He smiled at the woman to whom he'd been wed. It had taken almost six months before he'd calmed enough to understand that Judith was neither a death sentence nor a punishment and that was when he was finally able to enjoy her presence. They kept separate rooms and led what amounted to separate lives but he took a sense of pride in having her as his own and being hers in return. It had been a scarce two months since their son was born but her body showed great memory in reverting to its prior shape; the magic of it all astounded him.

They'd stood staring at one another for many breaths before Thaddius realized he hadn't said anything more. He felt his ears flush slightly. "I had hoped that you and I might spend time together later today with Hammond."

She offered a soft, demure smile; it had taken her quite some time to learn the expression but he was pleased every time he'd managed to win one from her. "I would like that, and I know Hammond would as well. Once the nurse brings him back I will let her know to make him available."

The Wolf held out a paw and the Dog placed hers in it obediently. He rose it to his muzzle and provided its back a gentle kiss. "Then I will see you this afternoon, Wife."

She took her paw back when he released it and provided him a curtsey, presenting another smile. "I look forward to it, Husband."

The curtsey was hardly required but Thaddius realized why it was she gave it; when she lowered it provided the Prince peek at her bodice and the fabric beneath. The Wolf smiled back to her, pleased beyond measure that she, unlike so many others took him seriously and wore red as she should. Prince Thaddius strolled down the hall, a spring in his step and a whistle on his muzzle. Life was good for many reasons, and his family was just one of them.

Another reason encountered him at the stairs. Sir Umberto, his personal bodyguard snapped to attention as he approached. "Your Highness."

Prince Thaddius reached out a paw and laid it on the Wolverine's shoulder. "My Wife has agreed to spend the afternoon with me and my son."

His bodyguard nodded. "That is good news, Your Highness."

The Wolf flicked an ear, leaving it pointing back in the direction from which he'd just come. "You are on duty now?"

Umberto knew him well enough to realize the many meanings of the question but the ear would definitely clarify further. The guardsman's response was just as obtuse. "I am always at your service, your Highness."

Ten minutes later Thaddius was right where he wanted to be, pinned between the Wolverine and his mattress. The first time he had given over to his desires and pressed Sir Umberto into service of the flesh he had hated himself. He had taken it for another proof of his weakness and despised that the loyal Wolverine had been forced into satisfying his carnal needs; that self-loathing lasted for all of three minutes-- right up until Captain Marino took charge. Brother Maynard was often rough for the sake of hurt, but Umberto had shown many times over that controlled force could be quite different... and very desired.

The Wolverine had joined him in the room and rather than tie the Prince up or subject him to flagellation Sir Umberto started with a caress... a kiss... and then, a gentle descent onto the bed. There was no castigation and no condemnation-- just bliss. The Templar obviously knew what he was doing and affected the Wolf in ways he'd previously only imagined, and taken as the sinister whispers of his deranged mind. In a matter of minutes the Templar had him all but howling, forsaking the view of damnation as preached by Brother Maynard and instead embracing what was an experience he'd only dreamed of. He did, in fact, embrace the experience three more times that hour alone.

Unlike Brother Maynard's rough, often painful castigation followed by demeaning 'baptism' by the Dog's seed Umberto had no such inclinations. His time with the Wolverine was deliberate, but also tender and infused with meaning beyond 'excising the evil' and ridding Thaddius of his liquid sin. Umberto, in fact, pointed to the very action as a healthy way to balance the humors and, moreover, willingly prove his devotion to his Prince.

The Wolf had taken such words as a painful reminder that he'd forced himself onto the Wolverine, but it took very little convincing beyond a show of arousal for the Templar to make him aware that there was more than one interested party. It was as Sir Umberto said: God had given the act of making love to mortals to remind them of the importance of closeness and as proof of his own love onto them. If God truly decreed that the physical intimacy of man and man or woman and woman was wrong then it would not have felt so right.

There were many things that the Templar had taught him since then that rang just as true. While Thaddius had followed Brother Maynard out of blind faith for the priest he could not deny that when Sir Umberto spoke his words did not require faith; Thaddius was able to understand them due to their truth alone. He sometimes found himself wondering if that was just the darkness in his soul looking for any excuse to come free but he had only to consider the fact that he hadn't had a single episode, an outburst, or any manic moments in almost a year. If that was not healing then he simply didn't know what was.

The Prince valued one other aspect of the companionship of his Captain, and that only became more apparent as the two settled down in his bed for their time together. Maynard had never looked Thaddius in the eye until they were done and then the gaze had always been one of condemnation. Not only was Umberto more than willing to hold contact with his eyes but it was often accompanied by a kiss. Countless times in his life the Prince had been exposed to castigation via rutting and he expected that to be the totality of the act but until Umberto he had never truly understood why some called it 'lovemaking'. The Templar had filled in the space quite well... ALL of the space.