Loudly and unabashed, Korpi stormed down the hallways of his home. Like he always had; racing down the winding, stony corridors was the only fun thing to do in the dull castle as a fawn. Especially during the winters, when it was too cold to go outside. After all, they lived in the far north and, like Mother had once explained, winters were harsh in these lands.
Father had warned that the winds bore evil spirits from far north, from the old lands of Kotola, and during the winter they descended south in search for evil-doers and naughty fawns. If they found one, they’d freeze them into ice and whisk away, never to be seen again. It was why wind howled and wept like so, and also why every fawn should act good.
Korpi was afraid no such things. After all, he was a good, nice buck.
The race continued on and Korpi looked over his shoulders, at the other competitors. They too lived at the castle but were no lords; they were sons and daughters of servants, soldiers and other courtiers, close friends of Father. Their home was big, there was enough room for everydeer. It seemed like every time Korpi explored the hold, there was something new to find and experience. He really wondered why his ancestors had built it so large.
The race was still on and, as per usual, Korpi had the lead. By a good margin too: the cook’s daughter was a close second but even she was at least a body’s length behind. Unlike her father, she was slim and slender, tall for her age. Still, Korpi was quicker and intended to keep it so. He pushed himself onwards, lowering his head while his hooves kept bouncing off the stone floor. A corner laid just ahead and Korpi, well anticipating it, took a leap to turn without losing his speed. Then, it’d be just another long corridor before the race would end by the long hall, where the birch seat of his forebears was located. The finish line was at the double doors leading in.
Years had taught the buck well: Korpi’s leap was on the mark and he took the turn without an issue. His victory was now well secured. Behind a loud crash banged off and the young buck looked behind to see many of the competitors piled over one another, legs and horns sticking out in all directions. Even the cook’s daughter, with her long legs, was stuck in it. A winning grin formed on Korpi’s face and he turned back — just in time to see a wall of white fur. With no time to break at all.
The inevitable crash was like hitting a solid wall, even if the fluff softened the blow slightly. Still, Korpi was thrown backwards, onto the floor, and left out of breath.
“Oh dear, dear,” mumbled a soft voice above, tender with age and grace. “I am sorry, little one. I did not see you coming.”
The young buck moaned in pain and rolled back upright, now sitting on the floor and rubbing his head. Thankfully, his antlers seemed to be fine. Mom would’ve been mad otherwise.
Soft clip-clops rang out and Korpi turned to look forwards, at the odd furry wall in the way. But there was no wall; instead, a completely white doe, in an all-white gown and with clear crystalline antlers. Only her hooftips were non-white, being completely black with small dots climbing up the legs. She was bald, like a northern deer, but that was bit a guess, given her upper face above muzzle was covered by a plain, snowy-white mask. The two eye-holes on the sides were small and looked like endless dark pits.
It was an utterly alien sight for Korpi. The buck simply stared as the doe walked towards him and only became aware as she stopped a step away. Korpi frowned; the stupid doe had ruined the race by being in the way! But before he got to open his mouth, the doe lowered her head down to him and put her hoof over his forehead.
“Did you get hurt, little one?” she asked, undoubtedly sincerely, while patting Korpi’s head. The touch was surprisingly warm, like a nearby flame.
Though it felt smoothing, Korpi pushed off the hoof and grumbled at the odd doe. “I’m not small! And you ruined my victory!” he shouted, looking up at the masked face.
“Did I?” the doe asked, still staring at Korpi. Even up this close, the two eye holes were dark, with no eyes gleaming behind them. Like two deep crevices; he could even see faint cracks on their sides.
Korpi’s frown deepened. “Yes, yes you did, you mean hag!” His voice was now loud and sharp, breaking a bit at last few notes.
To that, the the doe smiled. “Well, I don’t know but somedeer sounds awfully grumpy.”
“I am not grumpy!” Korpi shouted back and crossed his forehooves.
The doe smiled and lowered herself down to Korpi’s level. Even then, she still had to lean her head down to speak eye-to-eye. “Now now, young one, no need to be angry.”
Korpi kept frowning at the doe. “I’m not young. I am six, and I can become the jarl, according to the family laws!”
But despite his outcry, the doe giggled back at him. “Oh, but you are a young one. Everyone is.” She then patted his cheek gently. “But do calm down and relax.”
Again Korpi stared back at the doe and opened his mouth to retort. Yet as he was about to yell back, his anger mellowed down and instead of a yell, a yawn pushed out of his mouth. He felt utterly spent. As his head dipped bit down, he was caught by the doe and wrapped in her warm hooves; like beneath a thick blanket.
As Korpi yawned again, the doe rested her head above his. “There, much better, isn’t it?” she said while letting the buck nestle against her. “It’s not good to be so angry.”
Korpi did not respond and closed his eyes. The strange doe was right; it did feel better now. Even if there was now something else churning deep within him.
“Uhm…” he began but stopped as the doe raised her head, “I… sorry.”
The doe, still smiling, looked back at him while hugging him tighter. “For whatever for?”
Korpi felt even more ashamed now. “Well… you know…I’m sorry for yelling and…” Yet despite trying, it was hard for him to speak, especially as he looked at the black holes. Still, he was a jarl’s son, so he gulped before quickly muttering, “I’m sorry for calling you a hag.”
For a second there was a pause — even if for Korpi it felt longer than that — before the doe giggled out loud, her serene voice washing away the buck’s shame and guilt. “Oh, oh dear, it’s fine. It really is fine. I’ve been called much worse by countless others.” She rubbed her head against his. “But thank you, it is good to be honest like that. Even to an old hag like me.”
Korpi laughed a bit as the doe’s fur tickled him. “You don’t look old.” He yawned again and settled down. “At least… not too old. What’s your name?”
The doe lifted her head but Korpi could tell she was looking at him. “Oh, my name’s forgettable and bland. But what is yours, young one?”
Right away, Korpi straightened himself up and cleared his throat. “My name is Korpi Lehto, son of Jarl Berttaria Lehto of Elksburg. heir to Family Lehto and loyal servant of His Majesty King Voltar, Third of His Name, Ruler of Olenia.” As he stopped, a sudden realisation struck him. “Oh, and soon I’ll be training to be Ukko’s own, a goðar.”
That caused the doe to tilt her head. “Truly? At such young age?”
Korpi nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a tradition. Every Lehto dedicates themselves to Ukko, so that we may reign wisely and justly. Mother said so!”
“Well,” began the doe , “who am I to question it, then? But now, my dear Korpi, I think it’s time for you to rest.”
Korpi did not fight back, he had no energy for it. A fresh yawn made sure of it. He leant back, against the white fur and closed his eyes. Above, the doe sang a soft lullaby, its words sounding familiar, like the Old Mál he heard Father and Mother sometimes speak. A bit of rest would be good, before he’d go and see about racing again with the others.
“That’s it,” whispered a gentle voice into his ear before a kiss landed on his forehead, “Rest now, young one. It is now all over.”
With his eyes firmly closed, Korpi kept on listening to the lullaby and relaxed. He hugged against the doe and let himself drown in the warmth, dulling all of his senses.
Then, at once, it ended; the song ended and Korpi’s eyes snapped to see the doe look down at him, head tilted to one side. She was no longer smiling.
“Interesting,” she finally said and let go of Korpi, “very interesting.”
Korpi simply looked back at the doe, blinking few times. “What’s interesting?”
The doe shook her head and rose up. “You, my dear. You should not be here.”
Korpi kept staring at the white doe, now completely confused. “What do you mean? This is my home, my family’s castle.”
But the doe did not look at Korpi and instead looked around her. “Very interesting indeed… now then, Korpi Lehto—” And as she spoke his name, a shiver ran down his spine. “—I know it was not your goal to be here but still, heed this warning, as it was spoken to your forebears: Tuonela is no land for the mortals to visit. Let the dead rest, for your time will come to join them. Carve this into your heart.”
Though Korpi was still confused, the words echoed within his head.
“It is strange my servant did not catch you before I did. But I think that was for the best, given you are not aware what has transcribed. That is for the best, for I am not the only being to trot here. Unguarded mortal minds, especially those of deer, are fragile things.”
Far, far away something fluttered and Korpi turned around to see no longer a simple corridor but an endless hallway, too long to see its end. His piled up competitors were no longer there either, and what the doe had said bothered him.
“I… where am I?” asked Korpi from the doe, turning back to her.
The doe gave him a smile. “Oh, they always ask it, don’t they?” She then shook her head. “You ask the wrong question, Korpi Lehto, son of Berttaria Lehto. For this is nowhere, a start for the path leading to the where.”
Down the hall, the flutter rang out again, this time closer.
Korpi shivered beneath the towering doe. “T-then what’s a right question? What can you tell me?”
The doe leant down to his level. “I could tell you many things, about life and existence. Grant you knowledge and wisdom eternal. But alas, you will not remember this meeting. It is for your own good; mortal minds are, after all, so fragile.”
Panic was settling inside Korpi, for his mind was constantly racing and trying to make sense of all. He stared at his hooves, and saw he was no longer a buck but a full grown stag, wearing an armour and holding a broken axe handle. Blood trailed down his forehead and it was hard to breath.
He looked back to the doe and at her mask, knowing who she was.
“Does it hurt?”
Tuoni kissed him on his forehead.
“No, no it does not.”
The fluttering grew and grew, and was now rapidly approaching down the hall.
“But now, Korpi Lehto, it is time for you to go,” the doe said and Korpi watched her vanish before his eyes, “live long, and do not come back.”
Korpi was left alone, grasping for each breath. He threw away the axe, unbuckled his shield and turned around, facing head on what was to come; a storm of feathers, white with black tips, blew down the hallway in thousands, heading his way. By now its sound deafened everything else but still Korpi stood his ground. He’d likely have cast away the armour too, if he had the energy.
The stag drew one last breath and closed his eyes — only for them to be forced open in a darkened room, with him gasping for breath. His throat was raspy and a pain flared in his chest, as air filled the lungs. Like they were filled with pine needles. He was too weak to fight back against the coughing, even when it only made the pain worse.
Closeby, a shrilling voice spoke out but Korpi’s ears were too numb to hear the words. But he did see a deer, a stag dressed in a servant’s bland uniform, appear above him, holding a water mug. The servant mumbled something whilst lowering the mug but Korpi didn’t hear or care; he eagerly gulped down the water. It made his throat feel better though the pain in his chest persisted, though now it was slightly mellower.
The servant yet again spoke something but Korpi, grunting against the pain, shook his head and tapped his ear. Thankfully for him, the servant understood the message and stepped back to the side, stopping near a table; Korpi’s work desk. Next to it stood a mirror, to that an empty armour rack. Further away a small bookshelf, a silent gramophone and locked travelling containers. All bearing the Lehto family crest, the crossed raiding axes with a raven flying above them.
It was all so confusing, but Korpi knew one thing; he was in his quarters, laid on his bed, onboard the HOMS Diplomati.
“Why am I— wasn’t I—”
His confusion was absolute and overwhelming. Thankfully, his mind was given a rest as another coughing fit struck him, and again the servant approached him with water. The pain, sadly, persisted.
“Thank you,” Korpi mouthed weakly to the servant. The stag simply bowed his head and backed away. Korpi, meanwhile, examined his surroundings again; his room looked fine and nothing seemed out of place. He still really didn’t understand everything and how he was here. All he could recall was accompanying Imela to Calafort and—
A loud bang rocked the room and pierced through Korpi’s skull. Not a second had passed before an equally painful high-pitched — and all to familiar — voice rang out.
“Korpi! Oh it is wonderful to see you awake!”
The stag in question weakly turned his head and stared as Imela marched towards him. As usual, she was as immaculate looking, dressed in a thick evening-gown that hugged her great frame. With her was an another servant, who took a post by the door. But Korpi’s attention was focused on the domineering doe, as she stopped by his side with nothing but smiles.
Korpi tried to open his mouth but was hushed off by Imela right away. From her behind stepped up another deer but this one Korpi recognized to be the ship’s doctor; a red furred stag with spectacles hanging off his neck. “Please dear, let’s give the doctor his time,” Imela said before turning to the aforementioned stag. “Do tell, is my noble assistant healthy enough for a chat?”
The doctor graciously said nothing and just stepped up. His examination —with aid of a servant— was brief and solid. For Korpi it was less so. He was horrified the moment the blanket over him was lifted away. His lower body was covered in bruises from barrel to flank. The purple clashed hard against his grey-and-pale fur. Not to mention when the doctor moved to change the bloodied bandage on his head, Korpi fought back a gag, and instinctually grasped for his amulet, the one thing he still had on.
Imela quickly pushed his hooves down when he tried to touch his forehead too. “Rest, dear Korpi,” she reassured before turning to the servant by the door. “Get us some tea. My usual serving.”
It took a good hour for the doctor to be done with Korpi. By the time the tea arrived, the doctor finally sighed after the last healing salve had been spread. Which smelt of lichen and berries. The doctor’s eyes looked confident but Korpi could read there was tiredness buried deep within, behind the glasses.
The doctor sighed, took off his spectacles and turned to Imela. “That will do it. Now, his lordship needs few more rest days before moving. Before that, the bandage needs to be changed at least once and salve applied to the bruises.”
Imela smiled to the doctor while the servants moved a table over to her side. “Thank you, good sir. Your services are no longer needed. Do go and get some rest now. You have earned it.”
“As my lady commands,” the doctor responded, giving a bow to both her and Korpi. But as he was about to leave, Korpi erupted into another row of coughs. That made the doctor look back and humm to himself. “The lungs don’t sound good. I recommend pipe for that. If my lady—”
Imela waved her hoof at the stag. “All is in order. I will take it from here. Go and rest.” That the doctor did. Meanwhile, the servants had put down the table and prepared the tea. Which, of course, was served in Kirin porcelain cups; only the best when it came to Imela.
Korpi pushed himself to sit and groaned as his muscles stretched. It was clear he had been resting for far too long. Begrudgingly, he leaned against the table for balance and nestled the tea on a plate onto his lap. As he did so, Imela looked at the two servants lined to the side.
“Bring the dear Captain over. Knock when you come back and enter only when permitted.”
Now that snapped Korpi’s attention right away. Imela never had all the servants leave. They were part of the decour, after all. The servants, though, bowed and exited with all the formalities. But as soon as the door had closed and the lock had clicked, Imela’s smile vanished and her eyebrows furrowed.
“Now then, Korpi,” she began and looked back at him, “by your look, I suppose you noticed I wished for us to talk alone. With complete privacy.”
Korpi grasped the hot tea for comfort. “Y-yes, I did. Strange choice but—”
“Good but I hold the reins here, dear.” Imela’s words were absolutely neutral and it terrified Korpi, who squirmed under her gaze. It was clear she was not happy and it showed. “I can only say, Korpi, that I am thoroughly disappointed in you.”
That left Korpi stammering for words. His mind simply ceased to work as it tried to process what he had heard.
“You let yourself overindulgence in alcohol against my express hopes. This clearly affected your head and made you act in ways that overstepped your boundaries during the party. And especially during the unfortunate accident.”
What Imela described triggered a row of memories in Korpi’s head; arrival to Calafort, meeting with the bears, the festival, Captain Fyr’s demonstration, the firing accident, blood, challenge, the duel. His face paled as the scenes played out before his eyes, for he could see what Imela was talking about.
The doe had only paused briefly to sip some tea before continuing. Her eyes latched onto him, like fly into a sweating hide.
“A duel! Against some mongrel bear! Think, Korpi! Do you realize what would have happened if you, a sole heir to one of the old and great Olenian families, had died? Do you think His Majesty would have allowed it to pass, even if it was a duel? Or your esteemed mother? Such a slight couldn’t be left unpunished! Olenia’s honour would demand it!”
Korpi’s mouth opened and closed without any sound so Imela just sighed.
“It would’ve led to an extermination.”
Absolute shame overwhelmed Korpi and he looked down, away from Imela. Both to get away from her eyes but to also hide his, so that she would see the tears forming up. He was a failure, no better than any of the other nobles he had looked down upon at the Academy. He’d always scoffed at them for their frivolous activities yet he had gone and done worse.
Mother would be disappointed in him.
“Korpi, look at me.”
He did so without hesitation, ready for what was to come. But instead, he saw Imela smile before reaching over and wrapping him into a hug.
“Never scare me like that ever again.”
That broke the damn and the stag buried his head into Imela’s chest with heavy sobs. The doe simply patted his head and comforted him. It was utterly code breaking; after all, only fawns and mourners cried. Regardless, neither deer really cared and simply held onto each other. Only the gods and spirits would be their witnesses.
In the end, Imela was the one to break the hug. “Everything is fine, Korpi. You are with us and that’s all that matters.” She still smiled while gently wiping Korpi’s teary eyes. “Now, do fix yourself before the servants come back. I’ll get you a pipe.”
As Imela stood up and walked to the side, over to the drawer, Korpi forced his sobs away. He still didn’t feel good but at the least he didn’t feel horrible. And on paper, his crimes had been forgiven, like they had never existed. Still, there were lingering questions he wanted answers to, especially due to the circumstances.
He turned back to Imela just as the doe had taken out a briar pipe — made in Imperial Griffonian heartland — and filled it with fresh tobacco. “Imela, what… just what happened?”
She paused briefly before sighing. “In truth, dear, you fought too well and eagerly.” Korpi blinked in confusion. But before he got ask any further, Imela turned around to face him. “When you were taken away for the duel, I was invited to talk by the chieftain. There, I kindly explained to her what would happen if… well, frankly, if you would die.”
“You mean you threatened her.” Korpi quipped before realizing just what he had uttered. Still, though his pupils shrunk in horror, Imela just giggled back at him.
“Such crass words, Korpi. But you speak the truth; I did threaten them with all the authority I had as an ambassador and representative of His Majesty. Or, rather, I warned what would ensue if the duel would be to death. What would happen to her lands and her subjects if an heir to an Olenian jarldom would die there, that evening. Thankfully for us, she understood the situation. Better than her cub, the one you battled, at the least. Because let us be frank, dear, you stood no chance winning.”
Korpi dipped his head in defeat, knowing she spoke the truth. But he was forced to look back up by Imela, as the doe practically gleaned from pride. “But oh my, did you fight! Positively astonishing! I didn’t know you had the guts in you, dear. You looked like a real vikingr, straight from the old poems and epics. Oh, so you did!”
Again, Korpi looked at Imela in confusion before memories triggered in his head and scenes from the duel flashed before his eyes. But it just led to further confusion; for to Korpi, what he saw and remembered did not feel right or correct. He could remember the blows, sounds and all, true, but it all felt odd. Dull. Like he himself had not truly experienced it and that trouble him greatly.
When he opened his mouth to respond, Imela, still fussing, was quick to shove the pipe into it. “Truly tremendous. Truly so. I tell you, those skills will come handy in the future. Melee duel is back in fashion, after all. That should open quite a few doors to you in Hjortland and elsewhere.” The doe paused as she took out a matchbox. “Have you smoked pipe before, dear?”
Korpi grabbed the pipe and picked it out of his mouth. “It’s… I see. And yes, I’ve smoked before, back at Elksburg. Little so in Hjortland. Mother suffers from terrible headache whenever she smells tobacco.”
Imela hummed in agreement while fiddling with the matches. It took her few attempts but she finally managed to lit one and used it to lit the pipe for Korpi. Right away he could taste and smell the tobacco smoke entering in his mouth. Good one, too. No second-grade quality; definitely straight from Zebrica. In truth, Korpi had never loved smoking. But it gave a good reason to pull Father for a break from his administrative tasks. Back at Akatemia, tobacco club had been his only regular social gathering, even if it was less prestigious than the fabled pistol club.
After few puffs Korpi put down the pipe and looked back at Imela. “So, you fixed the duel, then?
“Oh, you make it sound so dirty,” huffed Imela melodramatically while lifting her muzzle. “I simply made sure it was only to first blood.”
Now it was Korpi’s turn to give a quizzing look. “Well,” he began before pausing for a smoke, “say, what if they had refused you? What if they demanded a duel to death?”
Imela narrowed her eyes and put down her tea cup. “Oh, I do have my means, dear. I may not look like it but I too am a deer with fire in my belly.” She then grabbed her dress collar and pulled it down a bit. “Besides, I do not go into negotiations unprepared.”
Amongst so many surprises so far, this was the one that have Korpi the coughs. There, hidden beneath the fine cloth, gold and silver, stuck out the handle for a pistol. Of all the things, weapon was the last thing Korpi thought he’d see Imela carry along and that made him consider quite a few presumptions he’d made of her in past.
The doe, meanwhile, simply giggled and pulled out the gun. Design wise, it was no simply flintlock or even a standard caplock. Instead, it was the latest craze in the military world: a revolver. A weapon one could fire multiple times before needing to reload and all it took to do so was to bite and pull back the hammer for each of the six shots. Korpi had seen such weapons in hooves of few Akatemia nobles and on few royal guard officers in the various parties. From its markings, the revolver was from Equestria and it was certainly fitted to meet Imela’s refined standards, with silver etched onto the handle and barrel. No sigil, however; Imela was just a duchess, after all.
Elegant and luxurious yet bulky and ruthless— much like its wielder.
Imela rotated the revolver as light shined from the finely polished metal. “All I will say is that there’s a reason they called me Tarkka-Imela back in my own Akatemia days.” She gave the gun a few more spins before putting it away and pulling up the dress collar. “Though I do prefer an old flintlock to these fancy new ones. But oh well, a gift is a gift.”
Korpi smacked his chest once, stopping the coughs, “That— that was certainly not something I was expecting from you.”
Imela stuck her tongue out towards Korpi before giggling like a fawn. A pause followed as both deer settled down; Korpi smoked and Imela enjoyed her tea, neither uttering a word. But, again, Korpi broke it with another question. “Who won, in the end?”
“Well, you did, of course,” Imela responded while pouring herself more tea. “After all, you drew the first real blood. When you struck the bear in its paw. Or, rather, utterly mangled it.”
Korpi felt a gag at back of his throat, remembering all the blood and gore. Even he knew that no medicine could fix a wound like that. The bear would not walk straight ever again. Korpi had made sure of it, and he felt horrible about it.
Meanwhile Imela slurped the tea gracefully. “In fact, your victory was most fruitful for us. The agreement we struck afterwards was simply perfect and all according to the set out plan. Not only will we be selling surplus muskets to the Wellingtons, they’ve agreed to further talks for cannons and other ordinances. Far above expectations, and all thanks to this little accident of yours, dear Korpi.”
But though her words were flattering Korpi could not ignore the nagging feeling in back of his head that told him much, much more blood would be spilled in the polar forests and mountains in the coming seasons. Not that it’d be any different from before, perhaps. The bears were fierce tribals, after all, but now they’d be bearing Olenian arms and it was thanks to his aid. Many would die from ball and shot provided by deer merchants in exchange for pure gold.
Regardless, Korpi had done his duty, and it wasn’t like he would be killing anyone personally.
“Dear, is everything alright?”
Korpi blinked before turning back to the now-concerned looking Imela. “No. I mean yes, yes. I’m fine. Just feeling bit sick still.” He then quickly took few puffs from the pipe, following the doctor’s orders. Just so, he realised one crucial thing Imela had mentioned. “Wait, you’ve concluded the deal already?”
Imela smiled widely and nodded her head. “Yes, I have, with plenty a time. Don’t look so surprised, you’ve been out for quite a few days. A rather nasty fever stuck you but thankfully Tuoni did not receive your soul yet.”
The callous mention of the goddess of death alarmed Korpi and he uttered a silent protective prayer. “No, not that,” Korpi soon grumbled, impatiently, “I mean to ask just how did you negotiate? I am the translator, after all.”
To that, Imela giggled and put down her tea. “Oh Korpi, don’t be childish. You’re not the only deer in the world to know languages.” As Korpi’s eyes widened in surprise, Imela, again, laughed. “While Uraeilge’s an… exotic language, it’s still just a language. We always had another translator with us, just in case. Who also just happened to treat your wounds.”
Korpi, mouth ajar, simply stared at Imela in astonishment. “You… you mean to tell me all along, there’s been somedeer else who—”
Groan from Imela cut him off. “Yes, yes, Korpi. Funnily enough, there do exist other deer on this world that can speak multiple languages. Many far better and skilled than you.” Although her words were snarky, she quickly took on a happier appearance as she leant closer towards Korpi. “But I still chose you for a reason. After all, you are very much an unique deer, dear. Care to guess why?”
Korpi shook his head, not at all knowing the answer. He was just, well, himself.
Smile formed onto Imela’s face as she gave a peck on Korpi’s forehead.
“Because you’re both a translator and an influential jarl’s heir. Connections go a long way in this world, and I spy a bright future for you, my dear Korpi. I simply hope you learn to play along, in due time.”
Three quick knocks sprung out by the room door and both of the deer looked over to it. Imela pulled herself back upright, fixed her dress and only then looked back at the door, shouting only a short, single word command:
“Enter.”
The door clicked open and in marched three deer; firstly the two servants from before, who took up positions by the door, standing at an attention. That left the entrance open as the last deer entered. And it was not Fyr stood there.
“Ah, dear Ulappa,” Imela spoke out as she stood up. “I do apologize calling you so urgently but I wished to share the good news with you.”
Indeed, it was lieutenant Ulappa who entered. Dressed in her officer’s uniform, with sword swinging by her side, she strode up to Imela and gave a polite, acknowledging nod. “Indeed,” she said before turning her eyes to Korpi, “and good to see his lordship has recovered. Seems like our prayers were answered.”
“Gods have been kind to me.” Korpi puffed smoke out of his nostrils and nodded. “That they have been.” For whatever reason, it felt heavy for him say those words. Indeed, he could only thank the gods he had lived but, in truth, much of it laid upon Imela’s hooves. Sight of her striking deal with the bears with a smile while training a gun at them arose in back of his mind.
The whole affair left a bad taste in his mouth, one Korpi desperately tried to hide with tobacco. “So,” he began, seeing Imela still eyed him, “a captain, then? Until Fyr recovers, I suppose?”
Imela coked her head in response and turned back to Imela. “He has not been told?”
“Told what?” Korpi asked, himself too looking to Imela. The doe in question had sighed heavily. “Imela, how is Fyr? Is he fine?”
“Korpi,” Imela began before putting her hoof over his, “Fyr… he fought hard, and received the best possible attention. But the wounds were just too much. Too much blood had been spilled. He slept away two nights ago, following last rites. ”
The news stunned Korpi and he sat slack-jawed. He had seen Fyr been torn apart before him, the blood seeping into the dirt below. Yet to hear the stern yet dutiful captain to be dead? Korpi truly was at a loss of words before he finally turned to Ulappa. “I… I truly am sorry for your loss.”
To that, Ulappa nodded but Korpi could see she was not fine. The lieutenant— no, the captain, looked tired, mild bags visible beneath her eyes, slightly red at the edges. Clearly, she had been mourning the loss, and he suspected rest of the crew were too. Whenever it was genuine or forced was not clear. He didn’t dare to guess, either.
“Anyhow,” Imela suddenly spoke up, catching Korpi’s attention, “it is very late already, likely pass the midnight, already. We will discuss more tomorrow, dear. I shall inform the cook to serve a private breakfast for you and I here on the morning.” She looked over to the servants and raised her muzzle. “One of you, remain here and tend to Lord Korpi’s needs.”
The stag, who’d served him the water earlier, took up the command and moved himself away from the door. While he took up the position, Imela glanced back. Just not at Korpi. “My dear Ulappa. Before I forget, will you kindly join me for an evening drink? Our last conversation with vinho do Porto was so sadly cut off, after all.”
Ulappa shook her head, much to Korpi’s surprise. “Apologies, my lady, but I will pass the offer this evening. Tomorrow, perhaps?” Her gaze moved to Korpi. “In truth, there was actually something I wished to discuss with his lordship, now that he is back to us.”
Korpi blinked. He had not expected that at all. Yet he could not bring himself to disagree upon the offer, not when Ulappa stared at him like that. The sapphire eyes utterly disarmed him, at least until Imela’s giggle rang out. “Oh, that is fine, then. I’ll prepare all for morrow, then.” The servant by the door graciously held the door open for Imela, who walked to it and stopped upon its step. The old deer looked over to Korpi and winked very obviously at him. “Do remember the doctor’s orders, dear; don’t stress yourself with any activities.”
Scarlet arose on Korpi’s cheeks from the crass implication yet Imela simply chuckled as she departed. The servant followed after her lady, closing the door upon her exit.
“Lady ambassador is charming as ever,” Ulappa commented dryly. Thankfully for Korpi, she had keenly watched Imela exit so she’d missed his current expression. One he desperately tried to amend with the pipe. The trick seemed to work, since Ulappa simply smiled once her head turned back around. “But I hope my request is not out of place, my lord.”
“No, not at all,” replied Korpi instantly and pointed to the free chair next to him. As Ulappa moved to sit, Korpi poured tea for her; she was a guest, after all, even if lowborn. He himself had not yet had had chance to touch his so he put the pipe down on his lap and grabbed the fragile Kirin cup. The sweet fragment from the pomegranate tea was overwhelming yet it tasted mild, if bit fruity. Not fit to Korpi’s taste but one had to make sacrifices in life.The tea seemed to be better success with Ulappa, given she emptied the cup with one gulp.
“Good, isn’t it? Imported straight from Zebrica” Korpi said with a grin however Ulappa simply nodded in affirmation. So he made a note she didn’t seem too interested in small talk. “So,” Korpi began again, putting down the cup, “you had something to speak about?
“Indeed,” Imela replied while refilling her cup. He noted that she did it finely enough, not spilling a drop of the hot teal. “I.. this will sound preposterous my lord, but I have come here to bear messages.”
Korpi’s eyebrows cocked; indeed, to use a deer in Ulappa’s position to carry along messages sounded odd. Servants were for that purpose. Yet he also found it intriguing, so, with a nod, he allowed the doe to continue. “Before we departed from the bear village, I was approached by that bear.”
“Niall?” Korpi could not hold back the question and a twitch from Ulappa confirmed his assumption. “So… how was he?”
“Healthy enough to see us off. It had to limp to, though.“ Her voice hissed with poison, one that Korpi could understand. Even if it was out of place to call him an it but Korpi led it slide; a wicked smile had formed on Ulappa’s face. “You did well, m’lord. That beast won’t be walking or hurting anydeer ever. You made sure of it that night.”
“Perhaps so, perhaps so,” Korpi muttered, wishing to avoid the topic entirely. It was not really what he was after, and he chided himself for asking the question in the first place. “But please, continue; what did he tell you?”
“Not much, in truth. It instead gave me a few things.” She arose and reached into her coat. From within, she pulled out a brimming pouch. One that Korpi recognised with widened eyes; it was the one he’d pulled the mushroom out. “It passed along this to me. I have not looked inside it, so I cannot tell what it is. It just said something about you needing these more than it did.”
Korpi wondered if that was precisely what Niall had said. Part of him wished he could have spoken to the bear himself but that chance had passed long ago. It bothered him greatly; the mushroom had definitely done something to change him. To make him experience things he could have never imagined. Maybe there was something magical to them? For now Korpi pushed aside the thoughts as Ulappa continued on.
“But that was not the only thing.”
Ulappa placed the pouch on the table, and Korpi saw it now; from the string that kept the mouth shut hung another a loose necklace. Neither gold nor silver glittered from it. No, instead, at its end swung three bear claws; one long and sharp, flanked on each side by a smaller one. They shone beneath the light like polished onyx, deeper than any gem he’d seen before.
“A shabby tribal trinket. You don’t really see someone giving away their body parts. That’d be like giving away your antlers. Yet it did, with a wide toothy grin. Maybe there’s something else to it, m’lord?”
Korpi did not answer right away, instead starting still at the claw. Shiver ran across his spine and he scratched his neck nervously, feeling the odd scar here and there. “I… hard to think of a proper response to that. I know of no such thing, at least.”
“Understandable, m’lord,” Ulappa replied, confidence brimming in her tone and when Korpi turned to her, the grin had softened a smile. “Yet, if I may say, it does seem fitting. Many within this ship saw what you did. How you fought. I can hear them refer to you as Björn when I pass, even when they try to hide their whispers.”
“They call me…” Korpi fell back to his thoughts as he stared at the necklace. He knew the duel had been witnessed by the sailors but for it to have an effect like that? It was clear it had left more marks than just the wounds he and Niall bore; the latter especially.
Perhaps that’s what he meant to convey, Korpi pondered.
He reached out and untied the necklace from the pouch. Up close, it even smelt like a bear, with some fur still at the ends. No gore or bone, thankfully. To Korpi, it felt weird to hold it, knowing these claws had strangled him and he had also been one to cut them off.
A cough came from Ulappa’s direction. “If m’lord finds it unappealing—”
“No.” He shook his head firmly and put the necklace on the table. “No, I do not disapprove. If they wish to call me a bear, then let them. As long as proper respect is paid to me.”
“Of course, m’lord,” Ulappa affirmed quickly.
The following pause stretched to an awkward silence as neither side spoke after that; Korpi took few puffs from the pipe while Ulappa sipped the tea. It was hard to tell how long the pause lasted but, finally, Korpi licked his lips. “Have you sent Fyr off yet?”
Flicker of sadness flared in Ulappa’s eyes before she shook her head. “No, not yet. His body rests still, prepared for the ceremony. A boat hungs ready with tinder. In truth, we have been waiting for you, m’lord. To not allow you to offer a word would’ve been wrong. And now that you are back to us….” Tears trailed down her cheeks as Ulappa’s head tilted. Korpi wished he could join her in the mourning but he could only lower his head and close eyes. He did miss the old captain, he truly did; Fyr had been a fine deer, even if his personality clashed with Imela’s. He deserved a fitting send-off.
That in mind, Korpi raised his head. “I wish to conduct the prayer.” In an instant the mourning doe’s head snapped up but before Ulappa got to reply, he’d waved his hoof at her to. “It is the least I can do. Fyr died in service of His Majesty, after all. He deserves to have the rites recited to him in full.”
“Truly?” Surprise rang clear in Ulappa’s tone as she rubbed her eyes.”That… that would be most gracious, m’lord.” She did one final wipe before straightening her back. “I had planned to head the prayer but my Old Mál is not the finest in the land. Fyr… he deserves the best.”
“That he does,” Korpi agreed earnestly. Yet Ulappa’s last comment left him wondering, and his nature got best of him again. “But I did not know the navy taught its officer’s Old Mál. Most officers I’ve met barely know curses and shouts to command the lowborn.”
Though the tear stains were still visible, Ulappa smiled and pulled back her uniform collar, outstretching her head simultaneously. “It really wasn’t that clear, then.” At first Korpi was left puzzle but then he noticed it; down her neckline crossed a spirally tattoo. Its lines criss-crossed and moved in round circles. In its midst laid an anchor, circled by salmons; the holy messengers of Vellamo.
The revelation was quite something and Korpi coughed rather awkwardly. “I-I see. Suppose that explains why you led the rituals. A goðar would be the one do so.”
“Oh, I am not a full priest.” Ulappa pulled the collar back up with a smile. “Just a former acolyte. I was never able to finish my vows. This tattoo is few years old but I’ve expanded it over the years, after each return back to home.”
Holy tattoo on a non-priest? Truly sacrilegious, Korpi though yet was also intrigued just how Ulappa had come to this point in life. Not to mention how she had gone from a possible priesthood to a naval officer. “It is still remarkable; life as an acolyte is quite something.”
“Indeed. I remember it too. Long ago, when life was simpler.” The sapphire eyes looked distant and her smile faltered. She shook her head and returned to Korpi with grimness. “But I do apologize for taking your time, m’lord. I think it is time I should take my leave.”
Ulappa saluted with a precision of a King’s Life Guard and stood up to leave. Her steps were long yet stiff, those of a soldier’s. Marching was second-nature to her, and it fit her slender frame; one that Korpi could not avert his eyes away from. “Wait,” he suddenly said, just as the door clicked open, “if you don’t mind, perhaps we could convene for another teatime? To discuss about the send-off ceremony. When your duty allows for it, of course.”
She stopped, hoof on the door handle. “Perhaps.” Ulappa did not smile when she looked back to Korpi but he could see no hostility in her eyes either. “I think I can find some time off. But it will have to wait until you recover.”
“Yes, yes of course,” Korpi quickly added and waved her hoof at her, “I will not keep you tied any longer. Kan andar ge vind på dina segel, anförare Ulappa.”
Ulappa’s mouth curved upright. “Och låt dem också vägleda dig hemma, lord Lehto.” The door closed almost silently, echoing just slightly. The silence that followed was absolute, and Korpi could hear the faint steps outside, growing distant with each one until they were no more. Now, all alone, he sat on the bed and mulled on his thoughts. Strangely, it felt good now, and he raised the pipe back to his mouth before turning to the servant.
“Put the gramophone on. Records are inside the grey luggage, pick any one.”
At the command, the servant prepared the music player. Korpi himself simply laid down and cheved the pipe. There was much work to do and papers to write but for now, he allowed himself to rest. It would still be many long days and evenings before HOMS Diplomati arrived to Dachaigh. He still had time.
A record scratch broke the silence before a faint violin and piano melody sounded through the room. It began slow and maintained the same pace before a deep humn joined the chorus; a stag of some talent, certainly. It reminded Korpi of Father.
Tiedän paikan armahan,
Rauhallisen, ihanan,
Jos on olo onnekas,
Elo tyyni, suojakas.
Sepä kotikulta on,
Koti kallis, verraton,
Eipä paikkaa olekaan
Kodin vertaa ollenkaan.
It was a somber song sung by equally solemn singer. It had come from Father’s collection and though Korpi had indulged in its many songs, this one he had not heard before. Not entirely to his taste but it felt fitting and, more importantly, relaxing.
Siell' on isä rakkahin,
Siellä äiti armahin,
Siellä siskot, veikkoset,
Riemurinnat, iloiset.
Suojaa, Pellervo, kotini,
Anna sille armosi,
Anna olla henkein
Vartijana kodillein.
His eyes shut close but the mind remained active, wandering from one thing to another. Strangely, quite a few times it returned to Ulappa. Something in the doe felt right and correct, and that troubled him. Especially the way she acted and spoke. Still, the thoughts persisted and he did not fight back.
Kun ma kerran suureks' saan,
Joudun maailman pauhinaan,
Silloin aina etsin sun,
Rauhan majan kaivatun.
At last, Korpi fell asleep and dreamt of home, the long castle halls and of slender legs.