//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: Grandeur Embassy // by Cofido //------------------------------// Sea smelled nice. It always had as far as Korpi could remember. So far he hadn’t truly met anydeer who’d claim otherwise — only a fraction of Olenians lived further than a peninkulma away from sea due to the harshness of the forests and mountains. Those who braved the wilderness were seen as weird or abnormal. Deer were a naval folk, they always had been since time immemorial: fjords and coasts were, therefore, their natural homes. Times have changed, though, and more of the mainland had been settled in a decade than in the past thousands of years. But still, Korpi enjoyed the smell. As he leaned across the bow, a gentle breeze bustled over well groomed fur and left a few droplets of moisture in its wake. Sun hadn’t yet risen but its rays were already visible in the eastern horizon. The nights, as they should, were growing longer every day. Summer Solstice — the day when the sun doesn’t set and a holy day of Ukko — had passed few weeks ago, just before his journey had started. ‘Well, when this embassy’s journey began...’ As Korpi continued to look out to the sea he, instinctively, touched his talisman, feeling the cold iron against his warm hoof. So much had changed in so little time. Just three months ago he had been a graduate student from the Kuninkaallinen Akatemia. Now, somehow at only age of sixteen, he was working for the ambassador as her personal advisor, translator and documenter. A position like this was a rare one and would certainly open doors in the Ministry of Foreign affairs. Perhaps even a letter of recommendation from the crown according to Mother, but only if he did his absolute best and brought no shame to Olenia. Father had no such thoughts; when the ship had harboured for provisions at Elksburg, Korpi’s family’s home, he had thrown a grand celebration for the crew and embassy. The fact that he had also taken the time to fill Korpi’s packs with good supplies was claimed to be a happy coincidence. ‘Elksburg…’ Korpi worried at the talisman as his thoughts continued to wander. It had been nice to visit home and see Father. Akatemia studies had consumed him for most part, and on the weekends he was dragged to various parties or balls by Mother on her insistence. They would’ve been nice if such activities were just for pleasure, but the reality was being carted about and presented to Mother’s associates, important folk of the capital and fellow Ri— Suddenly, the world around Korpi heaved, bringing him back to reality just in time for the ship’s prow to land down against sea, the ensuing spray of salt water arcing over the deck and splashing right into his open eyes. A sharp pain instantly coursed through them. He groaned in response and, without thinking, rubbed his eyes to only find the pain spiking ever worse due to his ministrations. Despite this, he found it hard to stop massaging his eyelids, to his great annoyance. Korpi heard steps approaching, and was finally able to control his almost unconscious scrabbling. Something soft, albeit a bit soggy, was placed on his now free hoof. “Use this, m’lord,” spoke a gruff voice. Korpi complied. Despite being partially wet, the handkerchief somehow did the trick as a few wipes ceased the itching. Korpi gingerly opened his eyes to the visage of a smiling sailor — an older stag with a compass tattoo on the side of his neck. Tall in stature, but only small curved antlers twisted from his brow, clear traits of a southerner. When Korpi proffered the cloth back to the sailor, the southerner’s smile broke. “Uhm… you can keep that, m’lord. It’s a gift.” “Well, it’s a good gift,” Korpi spoke and wiped his eyes again. “Thank you for it. Should’ve kept my eyes on the waves instead of the horizon.” “Observing Vellamo’s realm, eh?” “Like I said, the horizon. I doubt my master would take kindly to me giving too much attention to the other gods. Who knows what He might do?” Korpi smiled at the sailor’s frozen expression. Seems like the joke didn’t quite hit the mark. “Though I doubt He’ll test us. And it does seem like Vellamo has blessed us with fine weather. Or what do you think? Being a sailor and experienced in these matters.” “Y-yes goðar. No! I mean…” the sailor’s reddish coat slowly began to turn more pinkish. “This’s a calm season, yeah. Honestly, I haven’t done trips to the north, you know. No deer really does and I’ve been on many boats. Bugs scare everydeer away.” said the sailor before scratching his ear. “Might see some ice as we go north-east along the coastline. After we’re done going south that is.” Korpi nodded in response and looked over his shoulder, sweeping his eyes across the deck. As it could be expected, everything was in top shape: no waste cluttered the freshly brushed floor nor did anything hang loose from the masts. Pristine sails fluttered softly above and with the fresh wind came a slightly soapy smell of the scrubbed floors. Everything was always executed meticulously and to the highest standards on this ship. Only a few sailors were currently present, doing their tasks sluggishly after a long night’s work. Mugs were clattering, secured to belts and swaying with the weary movements of those abovedecks. Day was due to break in just a few moments, after all. The ship never truly rested. It couldn’t: someone had to hold the rudder and operate the sails throughout the dark. Or so Korpi thought. In truth, he knew little about sailing or ships in general. All he had really been told or had managed to overhear from the officers is that it was hard to navigate large vessels in these waters — not to mention hiding them from changelings — and therefore a small vessel was better. The clipper he was aboard had been deemed a suitable choice by the King upon his inspection. That was enough for Korpi. “M’lord, you don’t gotta worry,” the sailor quickly said, making Korpi turn back at him,” nothing in these parts will damage us. Ain’t no ice, wind or wave gonna sink her unless the gods will so. HOMS Diplomati’s a strong little clipper. She’s got fine timber and rigs and fresh tar cover. Even a kiss from the prince himself.” Korpi stared at the sailor before laughing heartily. “And the most confident crew Olenia has to offer, it seems.” “Kind of you, m’lord.” A light shone from the east and the two deers turned to hatch as the sun finally rose heavily over the horizon. Red clashed against the darkness but as seconds passed the night gave away for the dawn. As if in a reaction — and with a loud thump — the double hatch door leading below deck were flung open and disgorged the crew of the HOMS Diplomati to meet the dawn. The night crew joined the fray, each one carrying a mug different from their fellows. Ahead them a large oak barrel bearing Old Mál runes was rolled over to the side. A few deer followed behind it with large, thick hempen ropes. The sailor next to Korpi smacked his face. “Ah piss, forgot my mug below,” the sailor muttered before giving a bow to Korpi. “I apologize m’lord but I need to go. Am I dismissed?” “You are. Go on.” “Thank you, m’lord. Will you be joining us?” “No thank you. But hurry already.” Without further ado, the sailor ran off towards the hatch and jumped inside. Korpi simply rolled his eyes in response. That sailor would easily be twice his age but couldn’t string a proper sentence together, and has all the social grace of a buck. Not to mention the horrible abbreviated honorific. Then again, what could you expect of a commoner? Korpi looked back towards the sunrise and stood in silence. He could hear the crew preparing for their morning toast but he paid little attention to it. It was nothing new to him. ‘Well, he was kind and quite funny. And he, at the very least, tried, I suppose’, Korpi contemplated. Before he could think further a sound of splashing water followed by a large hurrah from the crew got him distracted. Korpi sighed. Wearily, he quipped, “Time for my own responsibilities, then.” He turned around and began to walk towards the hatch. As he did so he observed as the barrel was lifted back up by the hardy seadeer and laid amongst them. Immediately, as per the ancient tradition, everyone filled their various cups with salt water under supervision of an officer. Korpi recalled this one’s rank was a Luutnantti, though her name eluded him. Regardless of the rank she was the first one to lift a cup up and as she did so the crew grew silent. “I present to you all a toast to goddess Vellamo. May She watch over us and make it so no spirit shall distract or harm us during our daily work.” “Skol!” “May She breath gentle winds to our sails so we can sail in peace and ask Father of All Deer, Ukko, to keep our axes sharp if foes befall upon us.” “Skol!” “With these drinks we absorb your essence, oh Vellamo. Let this bind us to you and your realm as a sign of our respect.” “Skol!” and with this last call for a toast everyone downed their drinks in unison, to a chorus of gargles, coughs and gasps. Soon after, the doe Luutnantti began to shout orders rendered incomprehensible by Korpi’s descent into the depths of the vessel. From the steps he took a turn towards the aft and began to trace the route back to the officers’ quarters. On the way he passed by few groggy sailors who gave way and bowed to him, but Korpi paid little attention. As he continued his way down the hallways, barely lit by crystal lanterns, the voices from above grew silent as the thick, specially nurtured wood blocked the sound from reaching his ears. The silence was absolute barring the clicking his hooves made. If Korpi had one problem — though he knew he had plenty — it was that he could be horribly absent minded and forget where he was. Especially if he was all by himself. The silence made the well-worn timbers of the deck melt away as his mind shifted focus from the now to tomorrow. For tomorrow they’d be landing at Calafort, the first real waypoint of the journey, and he’d be seeing and talking to bears for first time. Korpi didn’t know if he should be happy to get off this ship back to land or be worried about meeting the ‘giant furred warriors in silly gowns’ as he had read in the books. ‘Most likely of both’, he guessed. Korpi stopped as he arrived to his destination; an ornate door reinforced with iron and to the wood was carved Vellamo, the goddess of seas and weather. As one would expect, She appeared as a beautiful maiden with her lower body merging to the sea and antlers holding the sky aloft. Her lightning circlet rested on her head and the seafoam dress covered her frame leaving but a beautiful face between the sea and sky, fog rolling down from her open eyes. Even if he was sworn to Ukko Korpi was still but a deer and therefore bowed deep before the goddess before gently opening the door, hoping to be silent. “Ah, my dear Lehto!” His hope was dashed instantly. Just a second after the door had opened the very feminine, sweet voice rang out. One that Korpi was very accustomed by now. Accompanied with the exclamation came the rapid screeching of wood on laquered wood. By now the door was fully open, revealing the extravagantly decorated officers mess deck. Discounting the cargo hold, this was the largest room within the clipper. Its walls were bearing colourful tapestries and furnished with fine antique. The servants, who seemed to disappear into the finery when not needed, stood sideline in their tailored suits. A finely-wrought bronze chandelier, filled with bright crystals, hung from the ceiling and cast a shadow to the long, lavishly filled dining table beneath. The officers stood up in unison yet Korpi barely noted them, their simple uniforms but needless distraction much like rest of the room compared to the mass of glitter and spectacle at the table’s end: the figure stood tall even when sitting. Pristine green cloth, long and flowing, framed the doe’s form. The frills, latest Equestrian fashion craze, puffed from her shoulders while amber pieces embroided to the gown reflected the above lights. Her blue, crystalline antlers were barely visible beneath the elaborate maze of silver thread and cluttered diamond pieces which hung between the horns. Faint tingle echoed as the doe lifted her chin up. “Please, do come and sit down, dear,” said Imela, swirling a wine glass, and gestured to an adjacent seat. “Or do you wish to keep our brave officers standing at attention?” “No, I do not.” — Korpi looked at the officers as he calmly walked towards his chair — “I am sorry for interrupting your breakfast, please do be seated.” And as one would expect from the swarthy navy folk they did so in an instant, returning back to their activities without an issue. When Korpi sat down he didn’t even get to raise his hoof before a servant, standing on the side, poured a drink for him. Elsewhere at the table officers barely blinked as their conversations were briefly interrupted by the efficient service. At a side table Korpi saw the chef preparing his usual dish: a light serving of pine needles in strawberry jam, a bowl of spiced voitatti soup and a slice of blueberry pie. Yet despite the amount he still had the dinner to attend, not to mention a most certain night’s snack. He had protested initially about the food consumption but Duchess Imela had insisted Korpi, as her personal advisor, had to be present. That had been end of that discussion. Korpi lifted his glass up and, as he took a sip, gave a glance at the duchess as she was ordering a second serving of the pie. Much like with everything else, her appetite was never ending. Duchess Imela was… well, a bigger than life personality. She was the kind of deer to catch eyes of those looking and ears of those listening. Imela simply had this charming aura that drove a crowd to her. Not to mention, she was gracious when it came to gifts and personal affections if somedeer caught her eye. There were whispers of her legendary personal parties which one would only get to by personal invitation from Imela herself: nobles, high civil servants, professors, artists, actors, poets, writers, painters and other famous were regulars there. Naturally, it was a dream place to be for anyone hoping to make connections. Therefore everyone wished to be in her good graces, and that gave her access to many venues closed to others. No one had been surprised when she had been appointed to the Riksdag in a record time, despite her flagging attendance record, which could only be described as ‘irregular’. But as with anydeer, Imela too had her flaws. A slam of a hoof on the table halted all activity throughout the room. “You cannot be seriously expect me to ignore such an important part of the protocol!” The stag Imela was addressing, Captain Fyr from Royal Olenian Navy, tried to open his mouth in response but was forcibly silenced by Imela with the press of a hoof. “Shush now. As a long-serving Captain you, if anyone in this table, would know importance of appearance” — Imela patted her head fur and let go of Captain Fyr’s mouth — “especially as we’re representing His Majesty. Therefore I insist a salute shall be fired as we approach…” She fell silent and turned to Korpi. “Dear, remind me, please?” “Calafort.” responded Korpi in-between bites. Imela smiled in return before saying, “Calafort, yes. Thank you, dear,” she then looked back to the Captain whose retort, once again, was cut off by her. “So, the cannons shall fire a magnificent volley as we approach Calafort. The honor of Olenia demands so.” Korpi wondered how Imela could not feel the clear disdain emanating from Fyr. “But lady ambassador,” Fyr began, speaking with a calm voice with just tiny bit of chill slipping by, “these are not ponies or griffons. The protocols have no section or even a page on bears. Therefore I have to insist on not firing a salute as it would be but a waste of powder and shot.” Imela, with a smile, looked at Fyr. “Oh but we’re making history here, Captain. This is the first embassy to approach the bear clans, so we must set precedence,” as Imela paused she dropped her smile, “regardless, you should know, having read the instructions so thoroughly, that if there are no protocols specified for a country or race then the representative is meant to default to the standard protocol. Which details that a salute will be fired before landing in a foreign country.” “Only if both countries approve it. I’ve seen no stamped approval for a salute. My instructions, given by the Admiralty on behalf of First Minister, are to not fire this ship’s guns unless in self-defence or according to the protocol.” “My orders.” replied Imela with a low tone,” are to represent our country and come directly from His Majesty. Whose voice matters more, a simple Minister’s or His Majesty’s? Now, if I were you, I’d consider my answer carefully.” “This is my ship, lady ambassador.” “This is my embassy, Captain.” The tension in the room was strangling. Thankfully Korpi knew what needed to be done. He coughed. “Excuse me,” he began and both Fyr and Imela looked at him, “but may I offer my… input on this matter?” In an instant Imela’s frown morphed back to her usual cheerful appearance. “Why of course, my dear Lehto. Your task is to advice, after all.” Fyr said nothing but Korpi could see his demeanour swift a bit. That stag always had been hard one to read but Korpi — based on past experience — guessed he approved the intervention. Korpi took a gulp of wine before saying, “It is true that the protocols do state that a salute is to be fired when our diplomatic ship approaches a foreign port.” Imela’s smile widened, “however I do not think a volley will be necessary as we come to Calafort.” “Pardon, Lehto,” said Imela, still smiling but not as wide as a second ago, “but could you explain to me why it is not necessary?” “I apologize,” Korpi paused as he gathered his thoughts. Thankfully a servant from side gave him a chance as they refilled his glass. Once it was back full he continued. “The term ‘necessary’ was wrong in this case. ‘Appropriate’ would be better since I do not think Calafort fills the basic requirements. The protocols are, after all, meant for recognized countries.” I so hate doing this, he thought while pausing for a drink. Everydeer had their eyes locked onto him. “Now, why don’t they?” It was a rhetorical question but he still looked around the table for an answer. “Well, simply because bears are not unified. They are, much like changelings, separated to multitude of clans that war, trade and conduct diplomacy between each other. Our visit to Calafort is to see Clan Wellington. Although they’re one of the largest clans, they are not the sole authority of the land. Firing a salute to them could, or rather would, cause issues when interacting with other clans in the future.” Silence followed after the monologue though it was clear the stranglehold felt earlier was by now gone. In the end, as Imela took a sip of her own drink and Fyr from his. It seemed like his speech had done the trick and Korpi felt tinge of pride. “Captain, I am withdrawing the earlier order,” said Imela with a sweet tone. “Understood, lady ambassador,” replied Fyr with a gruff mutter. A slow minute passed by until the Captain stood from his seat. As he did so, rest of the officers followed suite, “If you excuse, me and my staff need to start our duties,” Fyr bowed first to Imela then Korpi. “Lady ambassador, my lord.” His subordinates did so too before following their Captain outside. As soon as the door had closed, Imela burst out to a fit of giggles. “You truly are getting good at speaking, darling. Quite good, in fact, though I do think your little question there was unnecessary. It made you look bit pretentious, especially as you already had everydeer’s attention.” Korpi sighed audibly, knowing fully well he could relax now, and drank rest of his wine in one go. If he had learned one thing from all the balls and parties then it was love for wine; he had no love for the hard liquor made by his kind. Though, much to his harm, he knew this wine was quite costly since it was a Equestrian import. “Dear, you are thinking too much again.” Korpi blinked few times before rubbing his eyes, “Sorry, I really need to fix this. It is a really bad habit.” “Oh hogwash, it is not so bad. You actually look quite cute when you’re lost in your thoughts,” Imela said as she finally managed to quell her laughter, quickly breaking out into giggles once more as she got a look of Korpi’s face, “I’m just teasing you, Lehto. Don’t be so dreadfully serious all the time or you’ll end up like your mother.” “A respected Jarl known for her work ethics and services to the crown?” “See, I knew you could take a joke.” Korpi rolled his eyes in response but Imela paid no attention as she ordered more food. As far as he was considered, they weren’t done talking yet, “I don’t think you should have challenged mister Fyr like that. He is Captain of this ship and—” “And he is but a little boy who thinks a big hat and fancy medals give him some sort of authority to flung around,” Imela retorted. “He needed to know his place.” “It still undermines his authority.” “Authority?” Imela giggled and waved a hoof at Korpi. “Oh dear, our little Fyr thinks that authority is but a tool used to rule those below you and absolutely hates it when somedeer is above him. Why else would he challenge me like that?” Korpi shrugged, “Maybe because you absolutely cannot listen to those below you,” he scratched his itching muzzle, “or perhaps because you kept cutting him off constantly?” “Now you’re getting cheeky, Korpi,” Imela feigned being offended but he knew her too well at this point to fall for it. “I do listen to you, after all. I just refuse to listen a tool like him who thinks he is equal to me. He should know his place in this world.” Imela reached over and grabbed Korpi by his cheek. As their eyes locked Korpi felt utterly small under her old, wise gaze: it was quite rare for her to act like this, “As we know ours; we both know what true authority is like. It is our bloodright and natural responsibility to handle authority with care. So when somedeer like Fyr comes along you need to immediately remind them what true authority is like,” Imela gently patted his cheek. “Always remember who you are, Korpi Lehto, and where you come from. Don’t let those below you challenge your right to rule.” Korpi nodded in response. “Good. You will surely go far, dear,” Imela paused as a full-serving dish was placed before her. “Now then, I do not think there’s much for us to discuss since we finished our plans and checked the gifts yesterday. Did you see if your costume was clean and ready?” “It is not a costume,” said Korpi with narrowed eyes. “I am simply jesting, dear,” Imela waved her hoof dismissively, “but is it ready, though? I’d hate to leave my translator behind simply because he got lazy when inspecting his armour.”