> Grandeur Embassy
>  by Cofido
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.”
> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Be careful with the boxes!”

“That’s it, pull it up!”

“Ensign! Where in name of the Allfather do you think you’re going with a hole in your jacket?” 

Frantic voices and accompanying sounds filled the fresh morning air as deers ran back and forward with haste around the ship’s deck: from within the hold a line of sailors carried boxes to the top under sight of an officer. At the back Captain Fyr was inspecting a row of sailors standing in attention and dressed in the bright blue uniforms of the Royal Olenian Navy. His harsh voice echoed far and wide. A level of stress was clearly present. After a near two month voyage, the HOMS Diplomati had arrived to Calafort, the first stop of the Grandeur Embassy. Everydeer knew they had to put forward their utmost best in the name of Olenia.

Korpi, as silent as ever, observed the ongoing events from the side. His task had not yet began and for now he had resigned to waiting. A yawn came forth from his mouth; this morning he had awoken early for a good wash, a thorough brushing and oiling his antlers. Not to mention warming his vocal chords for the work ahead. Uraeilge was definitely not his forte but it was a relatively simple language with its growls and yelps. 

‘Even if it will ruin my throat for a week’ he worried.

A wave struck the clipper, causing it to shake slightly. Yet it had Korpi stumbling for a footing and, just barely, he managed to maintain balance. Once secure he groaned in frustration and looked down to his fully armored, cloak covered body.

“Blasted suit,” Korpi muttered under his breath. He hated how he was forced to wear the antiquated chainmail suit. It offered no real protection and just got in his way, constricting his movements while laying heavy against his frame. The axe and shield weighted heavy on his sides whenever he moved and the wooly cloak choked his neck. At the very least he didn't need to wear the blasted kettle. That had been a great relief. Overall the whole getup weighted down heavily on him both physically and mentally.

Yet there was no escape from wearing it. A royal decree was still a royal decree even if centuries old. Not to mention the chastisement he had received from Mother when he had voiced a complaint.

Korpi’s eyes roved off from the armour to his talisman resting on his chest. ‘Please give me strength to get through today,’ he prayed silently within his head. Once finished he lifted his head back up, right in front of the widely smiling face of Imela. Korpi yelped in surprise and took a step back, smacking his rear against the wooden brink.

“Seems like I caught you at a bad moment, dear,” Imela joyfully quipped as she straightened her neck up. Her antler jewelry jingled gently as her head tilted to right in conjunction with her inspecting gaze. She wore the Equestrian dress from last day but had added a blue dress cape over it, held up by a jeweled chain.

“You do certainly look ready—” Imela tapped Korpi’s antlers, “— even if these could use some shine. It’s a shame you don’t take full advantage of these beauties, dear. I know many deer who wished they had antlers as large as yours.”

Korpi could feel his cheeks redden in response and quickly shoved her hooves off. “Thank you but I… I don’t think anything would really fit me.”

“Are you sure? I have a pair of golden rings at my room that would just look dashing on you.” Imela locked eyes with Korpi but as the stag stood unflinching she simply huffed at him. “Then again, I guess there’s some beauty in simplicity.”

With that Imela turned to right and as she did so her hoof landed right over Korpi’s shoulders. “Now come along, it’s time to go.” — Imela stepped away and headed off — “Let us not keep our dear Captain and brave soldiers waiting.”

He simply sighed, made sure his shield and axe were secured, and followed.

As the pair cantered towards the ship’s stern, Korpi gave a glance over the port side towards the mainland. Forests stretched as far as his eyes could see, far across the hills and mountains looming over the quant village down by the shoreline. From this distance Korpi could barely see much of Calafort bar a simple palisade and what he believed to be large log buildings. Morning mist had blocked their vision for most part. In fact Captain Fyr had feared they’d need to wait for it to disperse but Vellamo had thankfully blown it away just an hour ago. Many thankful prayers had been uttered in response.

“Ah, Captain Fyr,” Imela’s voice rang out as she stopped few steps away from the Captain and the line of soldiers still being inspected. With him stood an officer, the same Luutnantti Korpi had seen lead yesterday’s toast. Though this time he remembered her name, Ulappa and knew she was Fyr’s adjutant.

There was, in total, eight soldiers with the two officers: each stag and doe stood at an attention stony-faced in their immaculate royal blue uniforms. The golden buttons and musket barrels gleamed in the morning sun with no stains in sight. Admirable presentation and worthy of praise.

“Lady ambassador, my lord,” greeted Captain Fyr courteously, bowing his head to both of them. Luutnantti Ulappa followed suit. Behind them Korpi spied a rowing boat, held up to the side with a pair of pulleys, being carefully loaded with the cargo. 

As if in response Fyr gave a look over his shoulder. “As you can see the vessel has been prepared. All the gifts are accounted for and my crew—”

“My embassy, dear Fyr.”

Fyr stood in his place with unchanged expression bar for slight narrowing of eyes at smiling Imela. His Luutnantti failed to hide her emotions, frustration clearly visible on her face. Korpi admired her loyalty though knew it could backfire horribly if she didn’t pay attention.

“My apologies. Your embassy, lady ambassador, stands ready for the departure.”

Ime nodded back at Fyr though Korpi doubted she was being genuine. “Thank you, Captain Fyr. Your service, as always, is greatly appreciated.” Imela looked over solem Fyr and at the soldiers. “Let us not waste time then. Board the barge, my gentle deer.”

“Yes, lady ambassador!” shouted the crew in unison and, in orderly line, marched out. Imela slowly walked after the lot with Korpi trailing behind with heavy steps. As he passed Fyr and Ulappa he didn’t look at either. To him Imela had the matters under control. He’d gain nothing by sticking his nose into this matter after last day.

Ahead Imela, with help of an Ensign, graciously stepped into the boat. As the same deer was about to offer a hoof to him, Korpi simply shook head and jumped over. Even if he hated the armour he was not immobile in it. He had been trained in arts of combat, both ancient and modern: bit of extra weight would not tie him down. The boat swung right and left as he landed and, due to aforementioned weight, Korpi lost his footing and slammed his head hard against the bottom.

‘Should’ve gone with the helmet’, he contemplated while rubbing his muzzle. Korpi could hear stifled laughter close by but when he glared at the crew everyone wore a straight face. As he attempted to rise back up the boat shook again. He threw his head around to see Fyr and Ulappa looming over him. 

Without a word Ulappa grabbed Korpi by his cape and pulled him back up. “Thank you,” said Korpi quietly to her though she gave no word back, instead gently pushing him towards the front where Imela was sitting already. Korpi stepped forth, giving a look at Luutnantti though she played innocent next to Fyr who had said nothing. When Korpi opened his mouth to respond a crackle rang out followed by a low screech of the pulleys — slowly yet steadily the barge descended down.

Korpi let the matter with Luutnantti go for now and sat down next to Imela. As he did so she immediately leant right over to him. “She is free, you know,” whispered Imela just loud enough so that her voice reached Fyr and Ulappa too. Korpi’s eyes turned at Imela who, seeing his pleading look, smiled sadistically like the Djavulen himself. “Don’t play innocent with me. Why else would you ask what her name was?”

Korpi wished he could hide to the furthest depth of Tuonela.

There was a small splash as the barge hit the ocean. In an instant it began to rock back and forth as waves hit its sides, its back dipping slightly down due to the extra weight of the gifts. An Ensign quickly unhooked the ropes off the side holes, freeing the boat from the larger vessel. From above a pair of long roars were lowered to the waiting hooves of the soldiers who right away used them to push away from the clipper before taking their positions by the center.

With slow but steady strokes the barge began to move towards Calafort.

“Are you nervous, Korpi?” asked Imela, catching him off-guard. In truth, he felt something undefined yet nagging within. He wished to hide it. So when he firmly shook his head, Imela looked at him with widened eyes. “No? Well that is for the best, dear. Just follow my lead: diplomacy is all about good impressions and manners. Everything will be fine as long as we follow the plan and nothing idiotic happens.”

That eased his pain a bit.

“Now, although you said you were fine—” Imela reached to a side pouch tied around her waist and from within pulled a small silvered flask, placing it onto his hooves, “— give this a try. It helps me when I need bit of encouragement.”

Korpi, bit suspicious, unscrewed the lid off the flask and sniffed the inside. It smelled bit like a strawberry drenched in ethanol. He turned towards Imela who just motioned him to taste it. When Korpi did just so, though taking just a sip, he was greatly surprised just how delicious it was. Even if bit too strong as he couldn’t resist coughing. 

He tried to pass the drink back to Imela but she just smiled and shook her head. “I think you’ll need it more than I today. Just promise keep your head clear, okay? That strawberry liquor is meant to inebriate a griffon so watch your drinking.”

Korpi nodded to her and stowed the flask inside a secret pocket sewn to his cloak.

Next ten minutes passed in an odd silence with the steady rows and rhythmic puffs from the working Ensigns filling the morning atmosphere. A calm breeze was ever present, blowing through the rank of deers with its chilly bite, but it began to calm down as they approached the distant pier. Calafort was no true port: it had the bearings of a village more so than a proper township. At least when compared to Olenia or rest of the civilized world.

‘I’ll have to remember to note these’, Korpi mentally noted, observing the village as whole before turning back towards the pier. Just then he noticed them standing there: three large bears, clad in strangely colourful green-blue dresses, towered at the end of the wooden platform, glancing straight towards them. As the barge approached closer Korpi could see that two of them stood back whilst the largest with ashen fur and some sort of necklace with strange beads tied—

Korpi felt a lump in his throat as he gagged in horror.

From the necklace hung a neat row of changeling horns, laying heavy against the giant neck.

“Well, that’s one grisly trophy,” muttered Imela. When Korpi looked at her in horror she gave him a reassuring smile and a pat on his shoulder. “Remember, follow my lead and we’ll be fine. Trust me, dear Lehto.”

The boat struck against one of the supporting beams with a loud thud. Immediately, two of the soldiers jumped over while biting the thick ropes and began to tie the boat to the pier. Other Ensigns jumped off to help their comrades to keep the vessel steady. One quite young doe offered a hoof to Imela who graciously accepted the help. Korpi, begrudgingly and wishing to avoid further mistakes, grabbed the helping hoof too. The planks beneath groaned in agony as he took cautious steps. Yet it was nothing compared to the destructive crackling that sounded out as the three bears approached them.

Now that they were up close, Korpi, with a keen eye, examined them: in truth he had only seen pictures of bears and never actually met a real living one. These three towered over all the deer, even Imela who was by deer standards large. Each of the bears, at least when they stood on their two legs, were twice as tall and wide as any of them and appeared quite bestial in their manners. Long fangs peaked out of their mouth whilst their huge pawns swayed side to side, seemingly ready to crush any foe on their path. Korpi doubted if even a volley could stop one of these beings if they got angry.

The one wearing the necklace stopped but a step away from them all, just before Imela and Korpi, glaring down upon the duo with an indecipherable look. His, or her, black beady eyes stared right at them whilst not uttering a word. Sudden clarity dawned upon Korpi as he finally realized in what situation he truly was: an actual crucial diplomatic situation where he was entrusted with communicating between the two races. There was no room for error. That frightened him dearly.

Imela, with a demure smile, tipped her head to the leading bear. “May the winds blow eternally in your favour,” she began with a traditional greeting. Initially the bears had stared at her but when Korpi began to translate they shifted their gazes at him, much to his chagrin. 

“My name is Imela Vuorimaa and I am the leader of this fair embassy.” she said to the supposed leader. The bear responded with a silence but that did not seem to bother her. “We have come to speak with your leader on matters between your great clan and my sovereign. You did receive our messengers earlier this year, correct?”

“Yes, many months ago,” the bear finally said with a heavily guttural tone Korpi found near impossible to understand. It sounded like it was painful for him or her to speak, though he doubted if that was truly the case. Regardless, the bear looked away from him and pointed at the boxes being dutifully unloaded by the Ensigns. 

“What are those?”

“These—” Imela threw her hoof at the cargo piling on the pier,”—are gifts from His Majesty to Clan Wellington to showcase the wonderful craftworks we deer can do and our desire for a friendship between our communities. But may I ask to your name, noble bear?”

“I am Khari of Clan Wellington,” responded Khari, Korpi finally deciphering this bear had to be male due to the structuring of his speech, ”and I guard this place. You deer will come with me to meet Chieftain. We will take the gifts.”

As he finished Khari gave a look to the two other bear and pointed to the gift hoard. Without a word, the bears prowled past the deer towards the unloaded boxes whilst Khari motioned for Imela and Korpi to follow. The two of them looked at each other briefly before Imela stepped forward to follow Khari. Korpi along with rest of the embassy followed after their ambassador towards the looming village.

Imela leant over to Korpi on her side. “See now, dear? Nothing to worry about,” she whispered with an overbearing confidence.

“Sorry if I won’t share your self-confidence but you haven’t actually talked to their leader yet,” replied Korpi, his eyes locked at Khari who was looking back at them likely because they were talking. “Who knows what could—”

“Oh hush now, dear Lehto. Are you doubting my oral skills so overtly?”

“...no. I apologize, that was out of line.”

“Duly accepted.”

A gruff growl above the pair made them look up to Khari. The bear was pointing at Korpi with what he thought to be a suspicious look. “Why do you wear that?”

Korpi blinked in surprise before yelping back, “I am sorry but what do you mean?”

“That armour, why do you wear it? You are not a warrior.”

That statement made Korpi blink even more and fluster slightly. “Well, I am required by… by an order? Yes, by an order to wear this at official ceremonies. Since I am son of a Jarl and therefore will be Jarl too.”

“But why? You are not a warrior,” replied Khari before moving the pointed paw off him and towards the Ensign marching behind under observation of Fyr and Ulappa. “They are warriors. Why don’t they wear armour and you their good clothes?”

“They…” he began but found it hard to convey what he meant. One bad aspect about Uraeilge was the limited vocabulary in regards to terms: Korpi doubted Khari and the other bears had understood even half of what Imela had said, even when he had attempted to apply them to fit Uraeilge terms. 

“Those warriors,” he rebegan, “are wearing those clothes because they are ordered so. Like I am ordered to wear this armour. I cannot explain it any other way.”

Khari stared back at Korpi good few second before breathing out loud, his breath crystalizing in the morning air. “You deer are strange. Not warriors are dressed like warriors while warriors are dressed like not warriors.” With that Khari turned away, ending the conversation.

An impatient hoof poked Korpi’s side and he glanced at Imela looking at him with a questioning face. “What did you two talk about? Something important?”

“No, nothing important.” Korpi shook his head. “He just had a question. It’s doubtful if my answer was of any use to him.”

The wooden path finally ended, and Korpi let out a sigh of relief as his hooves hit solid ground. Despite his enjoyment of the waves and the ship, he was glad for something to stand on that didn’t rock every which way constantly. The rest of the deer crew sounded glad prayers once their legs touched the pure dirt, but Luutnantti Ulappa was quick to holler the soldiers back to parade formation. Her shouts had the gift bearing bears laughing and, from what Korpi could hear, joking about her being a bear in disguise.

As Korpi looked around the shoreline he took note there really weren’t many boats around. That is if one could call simple tied-up rafts a seafaring vessel. Instead, littered throughout the village’s shore, there stood racks from which hung row after row of sharpened spears. Most had their tips dyed in dried blood. Despite his earlier horror at the trophy, this discovery did not elicit gagging from him as he knew the bears to be omnivores. Many others, however, did not know this and when he turned around many of the Ensigns, even while stone-faced, had colour drained from their coats.

The packed dirt pathway Khari walked on went straight towards a square by the backend of Calafort. Most of the meagre buildings were a mixture of wood and stone, with boulders used as basis for the thick logs laid over each to form walls. Oddly enough, Korpi noted how the buildings stood strangely short. The tallest barely stood as tall as Khari on two legs, which made him ponder if the bears simply walked on fours indoors.

“Korpi, dear,” spoke Imela suddenly to his side, “don’t you think it’s oddly quiet?”

It took a moment to register what she had said, but when it dawned upon him, he realized that they had not seen any other bears within the village. The shock of this revelation was perhaps bit too revealing since Imela swiftly patted him on the shoulder and, with a smile, said, “Calm down and keep your eyes open. Be ready for anything.”

Korpi nodded back and fixed his appearance. He breathed in and out, composing himself. In the village proper, its musky, earthen smell mixed with the scents of the salty sea. The salt Korpi could understand but the soily odor piqued his interest. He smelt the air and located the source beyond the buildings. As an opening came to view, Korpi glanced through it at a toiled patch filled with tall thorny bushes bearing but few crimson berries.

“You like raspberries?”

Korpi blinked his eyes and turned towards Khari. “You grow berries here?” he asked from the bear while pointing at the garden.

“Yes. Potatoes too. Why is it surprising?”

‘Guess even somedeer like Professor Bengda can be wrong, Korpi pondered as he looked at Khari; as far as Korpi had been briefed the bears were but a tribal folk that lived off from foraging and hunting ‘like any other beast’. Yet here they were, growing fruit and vegetables, even if at a small scale. It still was a discovery that warranted great attention — and as the writer for this expedition Korpi was to document this all.

Information that would be greatly appreciated back home.

Korpi grinned at the bear. “No, not surprising. I just wasn’t aware you could grow berries this far north without the aid of the spirits.” It was no lie; back home his family’s fields needed annual rejuvenation to operate in their northern domain.

Khari stared back at the smiling deer before shrugging, seemingly losing interest. The end of their conversation had them arriving at the square. Korpi thought that the term plaza would be more accurate, as it was the size of an ice rink, though rounder in shape. Although, as far he knew, no arena or town square for that matter had a large hole dug into its center. This did not go unnoticed from the rest who too looked at it in curiosity.

Imela leant over to Korpi. “Do you know what that is for, dear?”

As they passed by it he reached to glance at the bottom, over the crude fence around. It was not really deep, about eight syli give or take, with no real markings anywhere though the pit floor was covered in sand unlike the earthen walls. The ground on the sides looked heavily stampeded. Something was nagging him though he couldn’t pin down what it was. For now he pulled back his head and looked at Imela’s waiting expression before saying, “No clue, I think it’s an arena of sorts. Maybe for plays or such events?”

A growl from ahead had the duo turn their attention back forward. Khari stood ahead, waiting for them at the footsteps of an enormously wide log hall, its timber walls painted with sky blue paint. A basic chimney was centered on the roof and from it rose a steady pillar of smoke. Carved wood totems depicting unknown things stood around the building at fixed intervals, each with intricate and unique designs that were crafted well enough that their age could only be seen from up close.

“Do not keep Chieftain waiting. Come,” ordered Khari as he held the door open. Without hesitation Imela stepped forth, patting the dirt off of her gown’s hem before entering. Korpi followed her, though as soon as his hoof was about land inside, a paw fell in front of his face.

“Weapons stay outside.”

This order from Khari, even without translation, was immediately clear and was met with scorn from Captain Fyr. He trotted to the bear and gave him a glare. “Surely this is not needed. Our soldiers are perfectly trained—”

“Weapons stay outside, deer.” grumbled Khari to him. Korpi could see Fyr narrow his eyes at the bear, but only Ukko knew just why he was trying to pick an argument with a being thrice his size. Especially since Khari didn’t even understand what he was saying. In response Ulappa stepped to side of her Captain, resting hoof on her sword pommel. Seemingly in counter the two other bears with them put down the gifts and flanked the deer. The Ensigns uneasily rubbed their gun stocks, unsure just how to act in this situation as the bears eyed them up and down with indifferent expressions.

Korpi turned to the Captain and his adjutant to give them a chilly look. He knew Captain Fyr was absolutely sick of taking orders, and it seemed to affect his judgement greatly, causing him to put his pride before common sense. 

Therefore, Korpi felt he had to step in. “Captain,” he began, earning a glare from Ulappa in the process.  “I think it would be best to follow their request. We should not cause trouble.”

The Captain huffed in response. “My lord, please translate this to them.” Fyr did not break his eye contact with Khari. The bear seemed just about done with this whole affair but this fact did not seem to reach the stag in question. “I am under orders to ensure the safety of this embassy. I understand your desire to protect your village and Chieftain. But as a fellow soldier I hope you could, at the very least, allow me and my adjutant to keep our weapons.”

Korpi simply stood by in silence, wondering what was wrong with this stag... yet at the same time his request was not outrageous. It was Fyr’s task to guard this embassy, therefore he was well in his right to request that. Guards everywhere in the known world were expected to be armed and this was understood in diplomatic situations as an unfortunate necessity. Accidents, after all, used to be a prone event.

Luckily for Korpi, Imela stuck her head back outside before he needed to make a decision. “Captain Fyr, please relinquish our weapons to mister Khari and his subordinates. Let us not keep the Chieftain waiting.”

Fyr cantered his head towards Imela and opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing as their eyes met. Even Korpi shivered a bit as he looked the unfiltered, cold hatred which Imela directed at the poor Captain. Fyr looked at Khari, gave one last huff and, with a slight hesitation, placed his sword still in scabbard to the waiting paw. Ulappa and rest of Ensigns did the same at an equal reluctance. Korpi simply didn’t care and happily gave the extra weight away before trotting past Khari inside, now axe-less.

As he entered Korpi made two discoveries.

First, the insides of bear lodges weren’t small. At all. Before his eyes opened up a vast hall, set up into multiple layers that descended down in an angle towards an open floor at the bottom some thirteen syli below. Oaken beams kept the roof at its place, arching at the top to fit the domed shape.

‘They dug their dwellings below ground!’ he thought in bliss.

Second, he now knew where every bear was as a mass of beady eyes now stared right at him. Bears of all shapes and sizes, colours and shades, filled the place to brim. Yet it was utterly silent bar his own scant gasp. Korpi’s mind locked down as he could do nothing but stare back at the crowds. 

A touch from his behind brought him back, thankfully. “My lord,” whispered Fyr right into his ear. “you better head down after ambassador.” 

‘After her?’ Korpi moved his gaze away from the masses, scanning the place for his large leader. It was not a hard task. He found Imela making her way down the earthen ramp and towards the grand firepit bellowing at the center. With a haste Korpi made his way to her, trying best to ignore the onlookers.

Now he craved for a drink.

Imela had stopped at the bottom. As he made it to her side she gave him a brief look and usual cocky smile before bowing her head towards the fire. At least that was what he thought initially before he looked up. Beyond the flames, on the opposite side of the firepit, stood a platform on which sat a bear unlike he had seen so far. As imposing as Khari had initially been, it was nothing compared to the being before him now. The Chieftain was intimidating. Old scars trailed through their frame, only partially covered by a green-blue dress similar to what the others wore. However her clothes were kept up by an ornate golden belt in contrast to the simple cloth straps others had. In the eyes Korpi saw a glitter of wisdom brought only by age. Like with Khari, Korpi, in the name of Allfather, could not decide on their gender: Chieftain was a gender-neutral title.

Imela, with her head still down, said, “I greet you, mighty Chieftain, on the behalf of our illustrious and magnanimous majesty King Voltar, Third of His Name, Ruler of Olenia. May the winds blow eternally in your favour.“ Imela lifted her head back up, giving time for Korpi to grovel out the words. 

The Chieftain addressed kept staring at Imela and Korpi noted she met the gaze unflinching. “My name is Imela Vuorimaa, Duchess of Vuorimaa, Member of Riksdag and Ambassador of the Grandeur Embassy representing His Majesty and Kingdom of Olenia.”

She briefly paused, letting Korpi speak out the words as they had practised.

Ah, but I nearly forgot! On my right,” —Imela pointed at Korpi who lowered his head— “and the one who speaks your language, is Lord Korpi Lehto, son of Jarl Berttaria Lehto of Elksburg, an educated translator from Kuninkaallinen Akatemia and esteemed servant of Ukko.”

She then looked over her shoulder as rest of the embassy joined the duo. Fyr, with Ulappa but a step behind, took place next to Imela. “This fine stag on my left is Captain Fyr from the Royal Olenian Navy and in command of my fair vessel.”

The Chieftain finally broke eye contact with Imela as Khari and his bears pushed their way through the Ensigns, their pawns full of the gifts. As soon as the boxes were laid before the platform Korpi realised that the Chieftain was not alone on it: shadows moved and whispers in Uraeilge resonated from their behind. It did not seem to bother the Chieftain as they nodded to Khari who, along with the two others, backed away out of Korpi’s sight.

“I am Chieftain Tuathla, ruler of Calafort and chieftain of Clan Wellington.” The voice that rang out was surprisingly soft. It too was bit raspy but Korpi wondered if that was just universal for their species. Regardless she, now that he knew her sex, looked back at Imela with a relaxed expression. “You are all welcome to sit by my fire and share my fish.”

The hall burst out to life with those words. Deafening roars and stamping of paws had the ground trembling enough to make the building itself shake. Korpi was instantly caught off-guard by this sudden swing in mood and atmosphere but he was not alone as Imela, Fyr and rest of the deer too looked around in a surprise at the celebrating bears. Yet it took only for Tuathla to lift her paw to cast silence back to the room. 

With the same paw she motioned for Imela to come closer whilst addressing hall with, “Share your seats with the guests. Don’t let anybody say Clan Wellington doesn’t treat its visitors. Bring the food! Bring the mead!”

The rejoicing began with even more vigour though the deer, except for Korpi, did not understand why and the cheers drowned his attempts to translate. Suddenly most of the ensigns were pulled away by eager bears and planted down across the multiple layers, food and drink served at their gaping mouths. Ulappa yelled for the soldiers to reform ranks but she, along with Fyr, were both lifted up by Khari who somehow had snuck upon them.

In this ongoing chaos Korpi took his chance and took a gulp from the flask. This time he did not cough, instead enjoying the burning yet sweet taste. He needed this. The relaxing moment was cut short by a well planted smack on back from Imela. “Come now. Seems like we will be sharing seats with the Chieftain,” she spoke before dragging the stag along with her. He could see there was a familiar glitter in her eyes. “Good that you keep your mouth fresh. There’s much to discuss and showcase, dear.”

“Ukko, grant me strength,” Korpi muttered under his breath and took a final deep gulp.

Thankfully it wasn’t as bad as he had feared. As both climbed up onto the stage Tuathla sat upon and took their positions time began to fly as food and drinks were placed before them. Thankfully, despite talk of fish, they were served completely green servings: assortment of berries mixed with roots and dressed in honey. Mead was delightfully sweet. Not as good as the liquor but it was passable. Most of Korpi’s time was taken by the small talk Imela and Tuathla indulged in. It soon came apparent this day was meant just for celebration. Political discussions could wait until tomorrow. Imela had taken this gracefully fitting for her character though Korpi noted she still didn’t lower her guard even if she masked it with jokes and laughter.

During the talks Tuathla introduced the other bears on the stage to them, as the trio stepped closer Korpi noted they shared same ashen fur Tuathla wore. His assumptions were correct as the three turned out to be her children. Oldest, and closest to an adult, was Niall who had gained the right to wear the clan colours this summer. His sister Cara, two summers younger and about as tall as Imela, spoke with a bit of a lisp, but seemed otherwise bright. Last one was but a cub though a peculiarly curious one with a mighty bite as Korpi discovered personally. All showed interest in him, badgering him on with questions about deer, Olenia and especially about his antlers though Niall and Cara refused to believe he couldn’t change shapes since ‘the bugs could do so with theirs’.

The rest of the crew took to the party in earnest, and despite the language barrier, seemed to mingle well with their hosts. Earlier anxiety had given way for copious amounts of drinking, though Korpi saw a few hold back. Amongst those were Ulappa and Fyr who kept a close eye on the Ensigns scattered around. Korpi wondered just how seriously those two took their lives but smiled once he saw Khari smack the duo on their backs, pushing new drinks onto their hooves. Fyr took it begrudgingly but did indulge in the mead. Much to his surprise, just for a brief moment, he even saw Ulappa sigh and smile at her mug.

“You know, dear,” whispered Imela suddenly into his ear. “it is not nice to stare at a doe like that. Quite scandalous, in fact.” 

He simply rolled his eyes before looking at her in frustration. Imela just grinned back and stood up, in process lowering her head to observing Tuathla. “I thank you for your hospitality so far, lady Tuathla. Truly a dinner worth its praise!”

“Tuathla is just fine.”

Imela giggled in response. “Truly? Then my good Tuathla—” She looked at rest of the hall. “—and you other good folk of Calafort! Please, lend me your eyes and ears! For I will now showcase what makes our fair Olenia grand and us deer great!”

Whilst Korpi shouted out the translation, she approached the first box and pushed the top open with ease, revealing what was inside: countless items created with love and care by the best deer of Olenia.

“These are the gifts from King Voltar and his subjects to you, Tuathla, and all of Clan Wellington.”

It was a tremendous hoard: a full set of silverware encrusted in gems fit for a banquet, a grand chalice made from tough northern spruce, dried spices from the distant Zebrica, racks of Kruunun Koskenkorva -spirit, swords and axes smothered in gold, toys from the famed Billund Workshop, a pristine Hassel camera along with its iconic stand, a complete sauna construction kit, gold and silver commemorative riskdalers for His Majesty’s 50th reigning year, traditional skis made to fit bear paws and universally loved salmiakki candy. All this just from the first crate.

The list went on and on as minutes slipped by. It all was just very pretty tat in Korpi’s opinion but it did the trick by aweing the room, as far as he witnessed. Or, rather, remembered. The whole ordeal was especially tedious for him, even if his whole reason to be there was to talk. Not to mention his straining vocal chords. Plus he already knew the gift ledger from front to back: nothing that came out was surprising to him, even if he had to act so. At least he had his liquor, even if it was starting to drying up.

“And now—” Imela shouted, her voice echoing around the room and over the lesser conversations. Hours had already passed yet she still kept talking, not pausing for any breaks. By now only few paid attention and most barely noted the ongoings at this point. It was just trinkets, after all. Korpi translated just for Tuathla and her kin who still seemed interested. Youngest still chewed on the rubber ball Imela had thrown at him earlier, practically laying over it. “—I wish to showcase the masterful work, done by the master craftsdeer from Lahti factory. Behold!”

She lifted up a rifle.

The reaction was instant: as soon as the gun was revealed multiple bears rose up across the room. Some approached Imela but froze under Tuathla’s glare. Tension had by now shifted in the room and the earlier voices had fallen quiet as eyes locked onto the weapon at display: bears with either curiosity or suspicion, deer universally with worry.

Korpi, knowing his part, waited.

“Imela,” addressed Tuathla the deer in question, doing her best to pronounce the name correctly. Her face bore no particular expression besides for curiosity. “no one is allowed to bring weapons of war inside this hut. Why do you break this trust?

With a grace Imela bowed to the Chieftain. “My greatest apologies. I assure you my intentions are pure and earnest.” Whilst Korpi translated out loud for the entire room her face rose back up whilst she lowered the gun just slightly, enough for the weapon to glitter against the raging fire. “It is a weapon, true, but it is also a gift from His Majesty. Surely no one can deny our right to showcase beauty such as this?”

No one in the room could argue back: the held-up musket looked anything but normal. Its pristine barrel was greatly detailed with symmetrical carvings. The stock came from a blessed birch the royal grove, a holy site located inside the royal castle Harald’s Hold. The wood was inlaid with gold and silver from forend to butt where the lines formed the Antlered Head, the crest of Jelzek dynasty. Truly, a work of art. Yet it wasn’t the cosmetics that interest Korpi the most as the base design had been further modified. The trigger had been enlarged and lacked a guard whilst the fire mechanism, it too larger than usual, was an older flintlock type instead the standard caplock. He had known there was a gun amongst the gifts but had assumed it to be just a showcase gun. Not a—

“Yes, my good folk. Let your eyes lay upon this wonderful firearm, created by the famed Lahti gunsmiths.” She turned around, giving everyone a full view of the object. “And your eyes do not deceive you for this is the first rifle in the whole world created just for bears!”

This generated a great buzz in the room, whispers and mutters echoing around the masses. Warriors such as Khari were most vocal though whenever it was positive or negative was debatable. It was not, Korpi noted thankfully, hostile. Or at least not overtly so.

“I see and hear murmurs in the room. Is there someone, a bear or a deer, who doubts the quality presented?” shouted Imela at the crowds, appearing greatly offended at the murmurs. This did the trick for as Korpi told the words the last whispers were uttered. After savouring the peace for a moment, Imela’s eyes scanned throughout the hall, the rifle still looming over her head.

“Now, I am no liar but I do think a demonstration is in order,” she spoke as her eyes finally froze, with her gaze focusing on one specific deer. “Captain Fyr, would you be so kind as to aid me in this?”

Korpi could see him freeze on the spot, more so as ever bear and deer in the room now looked upon him. Yet it did not utterly confuse the Captain as he passed his mug to the nearby Khari and rose up. Korpi could see Ulappa open her mouth in protest but Fyr beat her to it, giving the doe a look that shut her down instantly. Once Fyr weaved his way down to the bottom Imela already stood by waiting, rifle and ammunition box at hoof. Without a word she passed them to Fyr and, just for a moment, Korpi swore sparks flew between their eyes.

‘Just fire playing tricks’, he hoped, for all their sake.

As Fyr inspected the weapon, Imela flung herself around like it was all theatre. “Now then,” she began and looked over to Tuathla. “I know I am in no right but could I request some sort of armor or target for this event? Preferably the toughest you have around.”

Tuathla simply looked at the crowds. “Do as she says.” she ordered and right away many bears flew into action. Meanwhile Imela made her way back to the stage and over to her seat.

“Do you think this is wise?” whispered Korpi to her as she sat down.

“Oh I think he will do just fine. Even he understands what is at stake.”

He looked at her in confusion before sighing. “No, not that. I mean the gun. I thought for a moment they’d jump on you and then on us all. What would’ve we done then?”

“But they did not, dear. All is going according to our plans.” She giggled a bit to herself. “It is all but a fine play.”

“Imela,” he began, in clear agitation, and actually got her to look at him. “this is no game. You cannot—”

Korpi was cut short as Imela leant closer and sniffed his face. Just the action got him to freeze in surprise. She then looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Korpi, you reek of alcohol. How much have you been drinking?”

In truth Korpi felt ditzy but had not noted it until now. When he gave no answer she rolled her eyes in clear frustration.“We will talk about this later. You can still do your task?” As he nodded her expression softened just a bit. “Good. Now then, let us watch the demonstration, hmm?”

Korpi, thoroughly ashamed, did so. By now some bears had carried into the hall sometype of a scrappy stand from which hung a set of armour. its design was unknown to Korpi but it reminded him of his own with the chainmail shirt. Of course, his wasn’t tent sized. Perhaps as a precaution a wide wooden panel had also been brought and placed right behind the armour. Korpi wondered whenever this was because the bears knew about black powder or because they wanted to be cautious. Fyr stood by waiting at an attention, gun at hoof whilst the ammunition box was laid on the floor besides him.

Imela straightened herself before shouting, “Now then, please begin your demonstration, Captain.”

“Yes, lady ambassador,” uttered Fyr, neither maliciously or benignly, and began the drill.

First, he opened the pan and only then pulled back the hammer that’d strike down to create a spark. In truth Korpi had never operated a flintlock — at home he had shot but few times with a caplock rifle and at Akatemia he had failed to enter the pistol club — so he only knew what he had heard. Flintlock was already considered antiquated, only used by the general populace and bailiffs.

Korpi shook his head and focused back at the event. Fyr had now taken out from the ammunition box… a powder flask and a case of bullets. Korpi stared at this in astonishment: why wasn’t the ammunition contained in simple cartridges? They were easy to use and operate more so than carefully pouring the black powder from a flask. When he looked at the scene carefully he came to a realisation.

It was all just for the looks. Much like the gun itself the powder horn too was a carefully crafted art piece, gold and silver etched into the copper container strengthened with steel. Even the bullet box was finely finished with axe symbols carved to its top. Clearly meant to pray for valour in battle. Korpi doubted whenever the bears would even care for such detail.

While he contemplated, he still did care to watch as Fyr maintained his procedure. He had carefully poured the gunpowder to the pan and flipped it shut before lowering the gun down so the muzzle was at his eye level. Everything was done with clear punctuality and precision. Fyr took the flask and filled in, what Korpi assumed to be, an adequate amount of gunpowder before pushing in a bullet. Even though there was no cartridge to push in, Fyr still jammed the ramrod down into the barrel, likely to make sure the powder and shot had hit the bottom.

Under the ever watchful eyes the Captain lifted up the rifle and assumed the firing position: sitting down and holding the stock against right shoulder while using left hoof to steady the barrel. Fyr shifted a bit on spot, likely looking for a good position, before pulling back the hammer to the firing spot. He then checked his aim and let his hoof slide slide up along the grip.

Korpi covered his ears as Fyr pulled the trigger.

A flash of light shone and thunderous sound rang out through the room as the black powder exploded, the gun spewing out flames and smoke. Thick smell of gunpowder filled the air, even beating the smog caused by the fire. Nearly everyone in the room blinked and groaned instinctually at the explosion, bar for the deer and those others who had witnessed a musket before. As seconds passed and everything calmed down the only sound heard was the armour, spinning around as there was now a clear whole in its center. Bullet had stopped at the back panel but even then had dug deep.

Silence lasted for a brief moment before, out of the blue, a gleeful laughter filled the room. Korpi was briefly confused but then noticed it was Tuathla’s youngest child. The cub was sitting on top of his ball laughing out loud and clapping his paws together. It was followed by Niall and Cara who too began clapping, with the eldest roaring out happily. Tuathla too joined. That broke the ice and every bear and deer in the room was either clapping or roaring in praise of Fyr who, during all this, stood by somberly with a fixed expression.

“Bravo, bravo, well done, Captain Fyr!” shouted Imela over the roars and thumps. As the clapping began to die down she stood up and pointed at Fyr below. “Anyone who wishes to try out this magnificent weapon then please don’t hesitate at all. Captain Fyr has graciously offered to demonstrate and showcase the firing to anyone willing. So please, do try out the weapon. It is a gift, after all.”

Fyr stood by, his mouth agape as he heard her words as throughout the room bears stood up and headed his way. Amongst the crowd Korpi noticed that both Niall and Cara had also went ahead to test out the weapon. Youngest had tried to walk off too but had been quickly grabbed back by Tuathla, laying the little rascal to her lap. Before Fyr got to say a word back to Imela the first bear had already arrived, eagerly looking at the stag who clearly had not known about the supposed arrangement. 

“I suppose that was for yesterday?” asked Korpi from Imela once she sat down.

She simply gave him a wink and a sly grin.

“I have to say, Imela,” spoke out Tuathla, grabbing both Korpi’s and Imela’s attention. The bear kept looking at Fyr who was now guiding the bears through the reloading process. “this weapon is good. No, it is great.”

“But of course! Nothing less could do and His Majesty, as do his subjects such as me, wish to put forward our best,” Imela cheerfully responded.

Another explosions rang out though this time it was followed by gleeful shouts and stamping. As Fyr took the weapon back Korpi spied him grimace, even if the stag tried his best to hide it. Somehow, though likely due to who he was, Niall had made it to the front and eagerly took the gun from Fyr.

Tuathla turned to meet Imela’s gaze and her overbearing smile. “How many weapons can your smiths make?”

“Oh, that depends on multiple things, I suppose. Manufacturing, amount, payment.” Imela shifted a bit closer to Tuathla, making the planks beneath creak slightly. “But I think we can come to an agreement. After all—” She patted the cub on Tuathla’s lap who giggled in response. “—with these guns it will be easier to defend your clan.”

The bear said nothing back, instead petting her child and seemingly lost in her thoughts. Meanwhile another shot was fired, ruining the chainmail even further — a piece of the armour fell down to the ground, causing the riveted metals to scatter all around. The bears were ecstatic. After Niall came his sister Cara though she seemed to need encouragement from those around.

“Tomorrow.” Tuathla finally glanced back at smiling Imela. “We shall talk tomorrow about a trade for these weapons.”

Imela bowed deep before her. “So we shall. But do tell—”

The world was engulfed in blinding white light for a brief moment as an explosion tears through the peaceful moment. A brutal roar of destruction sent the room into growls and cries of panic.

Korpi rubbed his eyes, fighting against the blindness. His vision returned to the sight of bears stumbling around the fire pit. Some laid on the ground, many others were being helped up. A massive white cloud laid thick in the air. It smelt awful. He saw Fyr coughing rapidly, standing back up and rubbing his ears. Elsewhere in the room he heard Ulappa shout out to the Captain before running past the stunned crowd to his aid. Khari and other sturdy ones began shouting orders to help.

As the cloud began to dissipate and the center of explosion was seen Tuathla rose up.

“Dear Gods…” whispered Imela, mouth agape.

Next to the destroyed gun laid motionless Cara, fur now black like coal, with Niall pushing her weakly. As if trying to wake her up. The young bear looked in utter confusion at his sister. Close by Fyr, now with regained senses, gingerly stepped towards the smoking weapon. Then, with a grand roar Niall threw himself at Fyr and clawed at the unsuspecting stag’s face. The blow lifted stag off his legs for a second though it was not enough to knock him down. Fyr screamed out loud, grabbing his now bloodied cheeks. Ulappa screamed too and tried to move past the blocking onlookers.

In other parts of the room the Ensigns rose up in response but as they did so too did the bears next to them. In clear anger most grabbed any deer they could. Few even choked the Ensigns in their grabs. Some deer managed to evade capture though even then it was out of fear and desperation: without their weapons they could do nothing against the hulking beasts.

Niall, still roaring in hatred, rushed over to Fyr and slammed against his side, finally downing the deer and pinning him against the dirt. Fyr covered his face but to no avail as Niall began to slash up and down at the stag, mutilating one leg from knee and crushing the other. Korpi had never seen so much blood. Ground beneath slowly turned from brown to red. Ulappa leaped from the side and threw herself at Niall but that did nothing to stop the large bear, too focused on sobbing Fyr.

Korpi sat by stunned. 

Imela tried to shout out something but no one listened. Tuathla had jumped down and was pushing towards her children. The young cub left behind was crying in confusion. Ulappa was forcibly dragged away by Khari though she trashed against her bounds.

Fyr’s voice had fallen silent by now.

Whole world had gone mad before Korpi’s eyes. Yet he knew he had to do something. His brain scrambled into action: he tried remember anything, that could solve this issue. Something that would make this all stop. He thought about the lectures from Professor Bengda on northern bear culture. He tried to remember all the lessons on diplomacy from Imela. He wondered what Mother would do.

His mind drew blank.

So he tried out something different — he thought about the language Uraeilge, going through its phrases, idioms, hidden meanings and social rules. As he did so something began to nag him, especially from the very first initial lessons. Something about what say and not to say, if he remember Professor Bengda’s words correctly.

Then it hit him. He knew what to do.

Korpi took a deep breath and, with all of his strength, let out a mighty roar. He stretched his neck out for maximum effect and in middle of his shout pointed at Niall’s back. He glared at him too. Somehow, perhaps by intervention from Ukko, his voice rang powerful and easily washed over the others in the hall.

Every movement and action in the room ceased in an instant. As Korpi’s roar finally ended when he ran out of breath the silence continued through mixed emotions and expressions. Deer looked around confused, especially as the bears let go of them. Most rose from their hiding spots though notably Ulappa rushed over to unconscious Fyr. Bears, on the other hoof, stood by staring at either Niall or Tuathla. Former had seemingly regained his senses and pushed away Fyr’s body.

Latter, however, had spun around to look at Korpi. Tuathla had stared at him throughout the roar and once it was done she nodded in acknowledgement. “A challenge has been issued. As the Chieftain and mother of Niall I accept your right for it.” She looked over her shoulder to her eldest child, who had now stood back up.

Niall turned to Korpi and stared right into his eyes. Korpi could still see anger in the beady eyes. The bear growled at him and, after a moment, nodded.

“Very well,” said Tuathla before turning to her clan. “Prepare the arena! The moon and stars shall cast their judgement tonight.”

As the bears moved away at their Chieftain’s command, Korpi breathed out loud after what felt like an eternity. He rubbed his muzzle as his whole body shook from stress and anxiety. Might be the alcohol hitting him finally. Yet he had still defused the situation and saved Fyr.

‘I did it’, he thought in amazement. ‘Somehow I did it.’

A slap to his face brought him back to the painful reality. It was not enough to send him staggering but it did sting. He turned to his left and saw Imela, with her hoof still raised, glare at him with a shocked face.

“Korpi Lehto,” she spoke whilst jabbing at the stag’s chest. “What did you do?”
> 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.
> Chapter 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

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.