Grandeur Embassy

by Cofido

Chapter 3

Faith. It offered Korpi safety in troubling times and events. It was nothing unusual; after all, he was a deer, and every deer was a believer. To them, it was a cornerstone of their species and what defined to be a deer; for without the gods their kind would have perished and never come to Olenia. An eternal bond had been forged between the deer and gods in those tumultuous times, when spirits and monsters were aplenty. Therefore it was everydeer’s duty — or rather a sacred obligation — to maintain the faith like their forefathers had. For without it, Olenia would surely fall.

For the gods were not to be meddled with.

Breath in, breath out.

Korpi’s master was Ukko, the Allfather, God of justice, war and wisdom. Strict values had been drilled into him from early age, and he had been thankful for that. Even if priesthood had been determined by his heritage, Korpi had found solace in the rituals and teachings. Being an heir was not easy, and faith had given him additional strength to pursue his noble destiny in servitude to the crown. His belief was genuine and strong —a steadfast foundation— unlike the pretense he had seen in his fellow peers in Akatemia: hymns and prayers would be sung but far too many did so under strained breaths. It had been shocking to see such acts. Not to mention the sacrilegious debates and utter disregard for the ancient traditions: all about rights but little of responsibilities.

One’s self above duty.

Slowly, something changed in Korpi during the years — and it had been a good thing.

Breath in, breath out.

Korpi could not fault his peers; to them faith was something forced upon them by tradition. They trusted and believed in the gods, true, however theirs’ faith was one of strict ceremonies instead of simple adoration. And as nobles, they were seen as representatives of the monarchy by the commoners. Traditions dictated their lives. As such, there was no escape from faith and ceremonies so crucial to the society. No doubt the pressure embittered many and led to rebellious thoughts. That had been his conclusion and it had been confirmed by a proud smile from Mother, even if she had aptly pointed that Akatemia had been like such even in her times.

“You do not have to agree with them,” Mother had said, “but you need to understand them.”

Observation had always been his good trait along with talent for languages. But if observation was a skill then languages, and in part cultural studies, were his passion. Korpi could still remember how one of Mother’s associates, a unicorn working for an Equestrian shipping company, had said ‘if Korpi had been born a pony he’d surely have a tongue for his cutie mark’ during some party. If only because of what a hooflicker he was. Laughter had rocked the room while Korpi’s hide had burned.

The happy memory had him smiling and Korpi thanked Ukko for easing his worry.

“Are you done?” said all too familiar gruff voice.

He opened his eyes and stared forward, right at observing Niall. Even if it was night, the hung torches lit the pit well, and light shone off the bear: he too was dressed in armour but bore no weapons bar his sharp claws and teeth. No helmet, though. Niall had thrown his away when he had discovered Korpi didn’t have his.

Without a word, Korpi stood up, patted earth off his body and slung off his gear. Shield went onto his left hoof, strapped with strong cloth, while he bit into his ax handle. Swing to left and right, just to check the balance. The handle felt cold to hold and his breath blew out crystalized. Autumn was approaching fast and he wondered what home looked like. Was Father already preparing for winter? Mother was certainly discussing matters of state with fellow Riksdag members. She was a dutiful Jarl, after all.

Korpi cast aside his thoughts. The axe fell back to his flank, to its sheath, and he stepped forth, ready for what was to come.

I will die tonight.

His eyes moved restlessly: world above appeared dark and mysterious thanks to the burning fires circling the arena. The shadowy onlookers would occasionally move but otherwise there existed nothing but one empty void. Cold and silent as the ongoing night. Korpi wondered if Imela and rest of embassy were there somewhere, looking down at him and pitying his fate.

Korpi looked past the shadows and up to the heavens. At least the night sky looked beautiful as ever: stars twinkled in with nebulas shining in the far distance. Thankfully no fires raged in the skies: the pathway to Tuonela was not open closeby. No, the sky was dominated by one sole object, the moon. It was nearing its apex in the sky and shone like a dim sun.

The Moon, according to Professor Bengda, held important place in the hearts of the bears. To them it was the time for honesty and parlay, as the darkness hid them away from their enemies — and from the prey. The bears had no gods, for to them present life was what they had and only their deeds would live on after them. Therefore it was vital for one to leave a mark in the life so that others would know that they had once existed. Each bear hoped to be hero of the next saga, sung for the ages to come. Stars, in some legends, were apparently noteworthy bear who had deserved their place in the night sky.

Too bad the desire for glory drove the bears to fight each other much like the bugs.

Korpi stopped by the center, just few steps away from waiting Niall. The bear looked down at him, his beady eyes shining under the lights. Korpi could not read his expression but he wanted to believe Niall did not hate him. At least he had allowed him a moment to pray in peace and settle his thoughts.

I will die tonight.

Korpi locked his eyes to Niall, and gave a firm nod. “I am ready.” His voice echoed strong in the silence. Better to appear strong than weak, and he did not want to ashame himself. Not to Niall nor to the observers. Perhaps they’d tell of his strength back home. Maybe even make it to the history books, in the section about bears and the initial contact.

Niall stood silent. Korpi too stood still. Seconds passed by slow until a lone horn blew in the distance. Its wail was long and high, somewhat sorrowful in tone. The blaring went on and on until it finally ceased. In turn, a roar bellowed from above, off the ramp just above Korpi and Niall. On it stood the chieftain of Calafort, Tuathla. Bits of her frame were revealed by the light but her face was hidden in the shadows. Even so, Korpi wondered how she felt about this affair, and right away he felt foolish: of course she approved this affair. She was the ruler, and she couldn’t allow some foreigners causing havoc like this.

Blood had to be met with blood. Common sense dictated that — and it had been Korpi who issued the challenge.

Korpi himself had signed away his own life.

I will die tonight, and nothing will change that.

Growl from above shook Korpi awoke. Both him and Niall turned towards Tuathla, whose paw was pointed at the duo.

“Time has come,” began Tuathla and lowered her paw,” for this combat to start. Know that the stars and moon are observing. Do not ashame yourselves. Fight like true warriors.”

Only that I am not a one, Korpi thought, remembering Khari’s words.

“Now, present your gift to your foe.”

Korpi blinked. Sense of horror washed over him as his mind caught up: he didn’t know about this gift policy. He had nothing worthy to present. His eyes darted to Niall, who was reaching to his side into a pouch. In panic, Korpi patted his sides. Of course, since he was armoured he had brought nothing but what he wore. Besides his ax and cloak—

A realization dawned on him. Without thinking, Korpi reached deep into his cloak, and, specifically, to the secret pocket. Out came a flask, glittering bright under the torch light. Stench of strawberry hung around it and for a brief moment Korpi wanted to throw the accursed thing far, far away. Yet he did not get a chance, as Niall huffed and got his attention. Without word, the two exchanged their possessions: Korpi passed the strawberry liquor to Niall while he received something small and soft. At first Korpi didn’t know what it was but when he lifted it up to his face, his eyes widened.

“Mushroom?”

It was black, shriveled and utterly foreign. Gills lined the cap’s underside while the top bore rounded bumps in an irregular mess. It gave away no smell, not even a rotten stench Korpi had expected. His mind scoured through all mushrooms he knew but nothing came up, and that concerned him deeply.

He looked back to Niall and saw the bear indulge in the alcohol, or at least whatever little remained. That settled the matter and, even with his worries, Korpi threw the mushroom in his mouth. Right away it tasted odd, rich in texture but barely had any actual taste bar for being bit bitter. Not entirely unusual for a mushroom.

At least until a pain flared within his stomach. Like he’d been stabbed with a hot rod, and he grimaced with a stifled groan. Thought of ‘poison’ emerged in his mind however the burn vanished as suddenly as it had appeared and it was followed by a warmth that spread through his body. Like he was in a hot bath. Strangely, he felt like all tension he’d been bottling gave away for a calm sensation. His hooves tingled a bit, like they were poked with dull needles, and that same ache spread to his eyes.

Korpi felt his body was changing — and he was strangely fine with it.

The horn blared yet again and broke the peace. Ahead, Niall simply threw aside the flask and stretched his neck up, flashing a toothy grin. There was a clear cockiness to him and for whatever reason it pissed Korpi off. His nostrils flared in a challenge: oh how he wanted to smash away that smile.

Wait, no, why am I—

“Warriors,” shouted Tuathla suddenly from above, “the hour is approaching. Present your arms to us.”

Korpi swiftly took out his axe, this time with his right hoof. He lifted it up, much like Niall did with his paw. Not that he would have it after Korpi would be done, and the thought he’d just conjured horrified the young deer.

For third time the horn sounded above but this time it was joined by a choir of roars and yelps. Whole Calafort cried out to the night sky around the pit, to the stars and the moon shining above in a final send off. One last roar came from Tuathla before her eyes rested at first on Niall and then on Korpi.

She, after all fell silent, simply said one word.

“Begin.”

Brief eternity followed as Korpi turned back to Niall and stared down at his foe. Even if his thoughts were muddled and weird, the brief look the duo exchanged told him all he needed to know: this combat had now begun and both knew only blood would end this.

Niall took the initiative and flung himself upright, now towering over Korpi. But instead of attacking, the bear instead grumbled and spread out his paws before dropping back down with a roar that sent air blowing around the deer. Unlike the regular roars —ones that untrained ears might confuse for Uraeilge— this one was a whirlwind of hatred and spit. No meaning other than telling your foe they’ll be trampled.

Yet Korpi stood his ground and knew he had to respond. It had to be grand and fitting, given his heritage. Even if he fought a futile battle, he was of mind to do it for för kungen. But as he stared at Niall in mid-roar, part of him began to boil. Deep within he knew that the cocky bear was sure of his victory and certainly saw Korpi as but some soft deer, not as a true opponent. That sent his mind ticking and whatever he may have been thinking, he knew that the brute before him deserved no words.

So Korpi let his instincts take over and let out his own roar. Fueled by his anger, it was completely animalistic and crude, a war cry from a different era, when deer were terrors of the seas. Somehow, Korpi felt connection to the past and briefly saw before his eyes a burning village, sacked by hardy deer under command of his ancestor, with lines of enslaved ponies and loot being hauled away. The sight made his blood boil.

There were no thoughts anymore. Now he simply acted.

Still in mid cry, Korpi charged forth, his axe lifted high, and leapt at Niall. It was not a smart move at all, nothing like Korpi had planned but he harboured no worries: he was enraged and simply craved for his foe’s blood to spill.

Niall, however, simply side stepped away, rotating his huge body as Korpi’s axe arced down, and followed it with his own strike. The bear’s paw flew at Korpi but it did not strike true, as the deer blocked it with his shield. Regardless, the attack was powerful enough to push Korpi away, though not off his hooves

The fIrst strikes had been exchanged and now there was a lull as the two opponents paced about each other and kept their distance. Korpi’s shieldhoof ached a bit and he could hear whispers far above. Some were clearly in his native tongue, Common Kieli, but he paid no attention: his instincts were catching up while he kept an eye on Niall, refusing to even blink. It was clear to him the bear was an agile one despite his size. He had to fight the growing urge to strike out again and vented his frustration with a low growl.

Niall took the initiative and he lunged at Korpi, paws stretched out. He was fast, closing the distance in blink of an eye, though still not as quick as Korpi as the deer ducked out of the way and swept aside, swinging his axe in turn. But the blade no contact as the bear tilted his body just in time — and smacked his thick paw right at Korpi.

There was a crack and a yelp as Korpi was tossed away. He was thrown across the dirt, rolling over himself once before leaping back up on all fours. His breathing was frantic and he just managed to look up when Niall barreled right at him. Despite the pain, Korpi screamed at his foe and too rushed forward. Keeping his axe low, he met his foe anticipating the incoming strike. So when Niall swung a left hook, Korpi lifted his shield and guided the blow over his head, just an inch off the antlers.

That left the bear open.

“Kungen!”

Korpi’s axe struck at the exposed stomach and hacked into the chainmail. Above, his foe growled and stepped back. But now it was Korpi’s turn to move and he strode over the bear, passing by his right and going for another low strike. This too hit its mark and once again clanged into the armour. Niall attempted a counter-attack, swinging wildly around, but Korpi had already leapt away.

Another pause followed as the foes stared at one another. This time, however, it was Korpi who smiled widely: he was holding his ground! Satisfaction washed over him as he maintained eye contact with Niall, whose face was stale. The beady eyes did not flinch and met his without breaking. It was clear his foe was far from done, and that just increased Korpi’s lust.

He fondled the ax handle and not long after, banged his weapon against his shield. Then again and again, until the rhythmic strikes echoed in the fighting pit. With each hit, the tension inside Korpi kept growing and at any moment he felt like exploding. Images of the burning village returned to him, only this time even more vivid.

There still were no thoughts. Just simple instincts and actions.

One last time he smacked the axe into the shield before lifting it high, and shouted in Old Mál to the heavens, “För kungen Voltar och Huset Jelzek!” Then he charged at his foe, aiming to end this ordeal, one way or another, like a warrior.

At the last steps the enraged deer pushed himself onwards with shield and weapon ready. He aimed to draw blood, and found a juicy target in Niall’s neckline. Eagerness overtook him and he prepared for the clash. Niall, for his part, simply stood his ground like a statue as Korpi closed the distance.

Another warcry bellowed out as Korpi leapt at Niall in a full on assault, axe swinging from side. Only to be grabbed in mid-air by Niall, as the bear quickly rose up for a counter-tackle. Time itself froze for Korpi as his eyes widened in surprise before he was pinned down. Now he felt proper pain in his chest, as the larger bear held him still.

“Idiot,” Niall growled, spit flying across Korpi’s face just as paws wrapped around his neck and pressed down. Instantly, all airflow was cut-off and Korpi’s body jerked. He wheezed, effortlessly trying to draw breath but got none. In a second it changed to a gargle, and despite all the rage that had swelled within him, Korpi was struck by panic.

He did not want to die this way.

Another second passed as Korpi trashed against the bounds, striking at Niall with his axe. But the angle was awkward and his foe completely ignored the pitiful bashes. Shadows danced in his vision now and tears formed by edges of his eyes. Even his voice was winding down. Still, his blood boiled, and through gritted teeth lifted his hoof and forced out one last true attack, aiming at Niall’s arms.

It struck home.

The blade cleaved into the left paw, cutting through fur and muscle, straight into the bone. Blood gushed out as Niall screamed out in pain and his arm twisted away, releasing the stranglehold. This only worsened the wound, as Korpi still held onto the axe and the blade twisted inside with a sickening crunch. Gore splattered right across his face, as the ax blade snapped into two and Niall’s left paw was left half-dismembered. It was an utterly gnarly mess: each time it twitched, a spray of blood spattered out. Niall still howled, grabbing his wounded arm, while Korpi gasped for air. More blood struck his cheeks and each droplet burned against the fur.

A single, sharp thought arose in Korpi’s hazy mind and pierced through all the pain and rage.

Blood.

Then, the air filled with a strangled roar, unlike anything hear in the melee so far as Niall lifted his healthy arm and brought it down at Korpi’s serene face.