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Nattas
A historianâs fate
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The silence was deafening.
Only interrupted at uncertain intervals, by the rustling of heavy pages turning one after the other. All made of fine calfskin, skillfully bound into an old manuscript, the young librarian was reading.
This venue brought out the poet in me, Storm thought with a grimace of discomfort, moving his arse to the side on the uncomfortable wooden chair. Lord Nattas had appropriated it from a nearby table, since he didnât see another option available. Every table had only one, urging cultured folk to read in isolation, or a life of unnecessary labor.
Probably another reason in there as well, though Lord Nattas couldnât fathom it. The furniture in question just a simple hardwood seat, firm as a rock and with no upholstery. The latter caused him to slide forward more than heâd expected and almost topple over, hurting his leg and dignity in the process.
The chair creaked alike an old cart at the slight abuse, as if ready to break apart and Storm had to grab ahold of the table for purchase, hearing the sound multiplying in the empty corridors around them tenfold.
It was shockingly loud.
Abrakas douse that accursed wifeâs mound, with putrefied black lice!
The unknown carpenter was his meaning.
The young man raised his eyes, a light brown that almost matched his hair, from the page he was reading and looked at him silently. Storm cleared his throat, a little embarrassed at causing a ruckus initially, until he caught himself, now twice as angry for feeling it in the first place. His first thought; to accuse the young man for doing it on purpose.
He has a familiar surname as well, on top of a fucking bookish face, Storm thought, giving the young clerk a mean stare in return. It was at the tip of his tongue.
âLord Nattas,â The man said in a pleasant calm voice, âI take it, you will be taking over for Lord Alden?â
His query wrong-footed Storm and he leaned back on his chair deflated, the protruding rail hurting his nappe. Cursing inwardly, he nodded in silence, only a twinge on his left eye telling of his plight.
âIt is an honor to work with you my lord. My name is Sirio Veturius.â
âWell⦠it is nice to be recognized, dear Veturius. Youâre doing a commendable job, Iâm certain. Are you the First librarian? You appear rather young, no offense.â
Storm had gone overboard in his praise perhaps, but he genuinely appreciated receiving flattery.
He also appreciated people steering clear of his presumed shortcomings.
âI aspire to be a writer, lord Nattas,â Sirio replied, ever respectfully.
Ah.
Storm remembered where heâd heard the name. It was rather obvious.
âA historian?â
It was a deceptively easy conjecture.
The kind that makes you lose good coin at the races.
âI love embellishing history too much for that. Iâm afraid, I would be a pitiable substitute for my famous ancestor,â A tiny smirk on his mouth, showing a layer of his character, also deceptively hidden, Storm noticed.
âThere are more lies in history, than branches in a forest,â Storm parried with a quote of his own and got a nod of approval from the cultured young man.
âWould you like to review the treaties?â Sirio asked, after an appreciative moment passed between them.
Storm wetted his lips, casting a nervous glance at the huge tomes, right next to the hefty manuscript young Veturius had been reading from.
âI could offer my abbreviated version,â Sirio said in understanding.
You will of course.
But one, should never take the road freely offered.
Itâs the best way, to walk into a trap.
Be wary of the cheap whore working the streets.
Storm sighed deeply. He brought both hands on the table, minding to cover the bandaged finger with a palm. Back to business, he decided, ending their brief interlude.
âSince you are apparently digging into the Histories for more context; per Kingâs orders, Iâd like to read the treaties themselves. With your help, but not your embellishment.â
Sirio smiled and got up, after carefully placing a thin engraved wooden bookmark, on the page he was reading.
âThis library keeps an exact copy. The original parchment is held in the Kingâs treasury.â
âA copy is fine,â Storm replied, impressed by his poise.
Lord Nattas had an eye for talent.
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But he did make poor choices.
At times.
âChief!â Sudi cried behind his back almost finishing, what the accursed chair had tried and failed earlier.
âFor fuckâs⦠keep your voice down, you imbecile!â He snapped.
âApologies. Been searching for you,â The man explained looking around for a chair to sit on and finding no easy options alike Storm before him, eyed the empty one across from lord Nattas.
âNo,â Storm said sternly, adding with a smirk. âRemain standing.â
Sudi puffed out hard. âRight. I was at your nephewâsââ
âIâm pretty sure, itâs my place still,â Storm cut him off sourly. âIs he dead?â
âAhm⦠nay. Heâs actually made a remarkable recovery.â
Abrakas you foul, miserable piece of shite.
He sighed, corner of his eye catching young Veturius returning.
âHow fortunate. Now, Iâm in the middle of rather serious businessâ¦â
âCan I help?â Sudi offered, watching envious the young man taking the seat, heâd flirted with earlier.
âYes. You can watch the doors,â Storm replied readily. âDonât let anyone enter. Especially if heâs an assassin intent on killing me,â He paused, thinking about it some. Settling for a minor amendment. âUnless itâs that Priestess of Naossis. Been meaning to have a talk with her.â
The woman had caught his eye in the funeral.
Alas, bared female skin was his weakness.
And with any luck, not his undoing.
âFlavia?â Sudi asked with an idiotic grin, as if heâd knew of others.
âGuard the goddarn doors!â Storm rumbled, losing his patience.
Good talent, was very hard to come by.
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Whomever had copied the original, had done a fine job, inputting with gusto all the archaic and by now obsolete calligraphic letters; packing them together as if afraid heâd run out of page, despite the text in this first one Sirio had offered him, being a mere paragraph.
Or perhaps he had embellished it, all in a futile attempt at prettying up, what was the scratchingâs of an illiterate ancient scribe, who didnât know his cock from a quill.
âSo, the leaders of the⦠Issirs, and I bloody well hope, it isnât saying seers and making a fool of myself; requested aid from the Lorian lords, in their war against the⦠empire of Wetull. It is rather refreshing to see, what is old to us now, being current back then,â He stopped and looked at the patiently waiting Sirio sitting across from him. âWhen was this?â
âIt is generally accepted, as this being the first communication with King Lucius the first,â Young Veturius replied prepared. âChronicled, three years before the start of the New Calendar.â
âAt the time of the earthquakes.â
âAs they were described from our own people. The Khanate scholars probably differ on this part, and of course those unfortunates living near the epicenter of the events, clearly described volcanoes erupting. We tend to accept the latter explanation as more accurate at this time.â
Storm smacked his lips, mouth made dryer by the subject. He needed a bottle of good wine, if he was to go through ancient history. A genuine man of the present and the near future, he had kept himself to the bare minimum of knowledge on the matter; mostly as a filler to be more accurate, or as a tool to use, when a conversation needed thinning;
And to be steered away from more⦠sensitive matters.
Storm should have attended a better academy was the long and short of it, but for lack of means and his meagre family standing⦠he hadnât.
He went for the obvious discrepancy.
âI thought Reinut led the Issirs.â
âMore context is needed here,â Sirioâs pleased smile faded seeing his sour expression. He pulled another vellum page from the stack heâd brought with him. âThis was written, six months later.â
> Hail thee fêted Lord Alden,
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> By order of Reinut the harsh, and in gratitude for thy assistance in preserving the fleetâs womenfolk and progenies, hereby it is decreed:
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> The lands below the Canlita Sea, up to the coast of Regia, are thus thine and thy heritors.
>
> Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
>
> The lands beyond the Flauegran valley, following the great mountain range, where the Mabindon River has its source, up until the coast of Lesia, shall belong to Lord Davenport and his heritors.
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> No Issirs will lay claim thare.
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> No Issirs will ever raid thare.
And then there was only one, Lord Nattas thought, noticing the change.
âI imagine the Issirs have Reinut going by his more flattering moniker,â Storm murmured, finishing the equally difficult to read script.
âThey do now. But it was Issirs that have written this as well.â
âIâm missing something here,â Storm said, accepting the next parchment from the young Veturius. âIs this what was signed, after our reply to the previous communication?â
âIt is. Another six months or so. I believe it was much less.â
âHmm.â
Storm read from the almost pristine vellum, the darkening of its color the only sign of its age, attempting to put all the details in order. He wasnât here for a history lesson, nor was he interested in events that happened two hundred years in the past. Lord Nattas was searching for the reason or reasons, behind the King of Kalthaâs bizarre string of decisions.
âSo⦠King Alden,â Storm said, reading aloud to the expecting Sirio. âWisely accepted all this territory, he didnât previously own, disregarding the slight and that conniving Davenport followed his example, the other minor lords be damned.â
âThe king had to fight three campaigns to secure his rightful gains,â Sirio parroted the Regia party line with a grin. Adding an often slurred over detail. âAgainst fellow Lorians.â
Storm nodded in agreement.
âIt must have softened the sting of bending the knee to Reinut,â He noted. âThen again, King Lucius fought very little in this conflict with the Zilan.â
âReinut broke the Zilan Imperial Hoplites on the Lazuli Peninsula and freed the Shallow Sea,â Sirio added another well propagated tale. âNo one thought that possible. Heâd help of course.â
âThe Horselords,â Storm said. Which translated to the warlords of the Khanate, before they united under the banner of Radpour. United is used loosely here, as many of them are still rumored to roam the Khanate plains. A menace, whichever way one looks at it. âWhich were originally employed by the Zilan and the Wetull Empire as heavy cavalry.â
âSubjugated is the more correct term, I believe,â Sirio said. âBut no Cofol will admit that to a foreigner.â
Abrakas, this is a fuckinâ odious undertaking, Storm groaned inwardly, cursing Lord Doris for putting him through all the trouble, and read the last lines on the parchment as fast as he could.
> The High Kingâs authority and wisdom,
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> secures thus; peace in the realm.
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> The Three kingdoms are bound to one another, as allies against their common foe. They will remain bound, for the good of their peoples.
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> The King of Kaltha is elevated above all others rightfully.
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> It was his line that ended the Wetull era of terror, and eliminated their threat from the realm.
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> Whatever remains, all parties to this treaty agree, it must be destroyed.
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> Never again to rise in a position of power.
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> The Khanate is bound to the same agreement.
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> It must uphold it and it canât lay claim on the High Kingâs lands in Raoz, for they are bequeathed to him, as he safeguards the freedom of the Isles and keeps the narrow seas open.
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> All this was earned through blood and suffering and it cannot be taken back in perpetuity.
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> So long as the promise of Reinut the Great is kept true and stands
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> All three kingdoms are as one, under the High King of Kaltha.
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>
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> Those signing the ensuing,
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> Swear on the bones of their ancestors and to the Gods themselves,
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> to uphold its word dutifully,
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> Always,
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> and to the letter.
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>
>
>
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> Blessed be the Five.
âWell, this wasâ¦â Storm paused. âA bit more palatable, but stillâ¦â
âIt is a later translation,â Sirio explained dutifully.
âIs there a difference?â
Young Veturius stared at the large tomes, Storm had stopped him from reading earlier.
âMore context is needed,â Nattas answered his own question. âI spotted an anachronism and Iâm not even a historian.â
The absence of the old Gods was glaring.
Abrakas, give favor to your faithful subject.
Before I fuckinâ die of old age.
âThat is correct, my lord.â
âI will attempt a guess here,â Storm started, and noticed a smug smile creep up on the handsome manâs face. But for the thin goatee, he decided. That, he should shave off soon as possible and fuckinâ forget about it. âKing Alistair is looking for a way out of the treaty. Without breaking his word of honor and disgracing himself to Gods and ancestors.â
Sirio gathered the copies and placed them in a neat pile, next to the manuscript he was reading earlier. Found the bookmark heâd placed there and opened it carefully, under the curious scrutiny of lord Nattas.
âThere is a point,â Sirio started, voice pleasant and fitting for the place, âone regarding Reinutâs promise, but it is part of an obscure verbal tradition that most historians avoid and my ancestor that mentioned it, was vilified for it.â
The latter added a bit of color on his cheeks.
âWasnât he extradited by the Khanate?â Storm asked.
âBetrayed after promises of safe haven were given is the more accurate term.â
âImagine that. He insulted Queen Dowager Femke, if Iâm not mistaken,â Nattas had heard a song in a tavern about the whole incident. The bard had a horrible voice, more goat-sounding than human, but he was funny as all hells and that mattered the most, where Lord Nattas was concerned.
The song itself was outright vile, its title a gruesome punishment.
âThere was no insult, but his love of history. Moment she read a copy, it was over. She branded him a traitor of the Three Kingdoms, and forced her eight year old son to decree, he was to be Hanged Drawn and Quartered publicly in Caspo Oâ Bor. In the summer of hundred and three NC,â Sirio paused to collect himself, the subject deeply personal understandably. âPeople say his bones are in the Royal treasury, put back together into a gilded skeleton, his favorite quill still in hand.â
The Issirs were notoriously cruel to their enemies.
Storm sat back and breathed deeply, impressed at this relatively unknown part of history, regarding one of her biggest devoteeâs no less; before exhaling slowly to give the young man time to find the thread again. Hoping he would remain impartial on his research. A lot of people wish for war. The reasons are many, the most common of them being revenge, against those they canât harm or touch, due to a difference in standing.
âI can read you the quote from the proscribed edition, lord Nattas. It is an original copy.â
Storm raised his brows.
âI wonât find it in the library is your meaning.â
âThe tome has been in my family for almost a century,â Sirio explained sounding tired, the last minutes of their talk taking a toll on him. It isnât easy to acquire thick skin, Storm thought. It takes years and many humiliations, seasons upon seasons with nothing to show for your efforts, your dreams shattered, but have enough scorn thrown at you and your hide will turn to steel in the end.
âDoes it explain it?â Storm asked.
âI believe it does. It is the full text after all,â There was determination in his voice now. Perhaps understanding that Lord Nattas was open minded enough to listen.
âRead the quote, dear Veturius,â Storm said simply, feeling tired himself,âthick skin be damned- but particularly impressed with the young man, his mind almost equaling his own. Sirio complied in his cultured calm voice and Lord Nattas realized horrified the gates of war were wide open potentially, but for an obscure, but not insignificant detail.
It had nothing to do with the current leadersâ skills, or talents.
Most people would call it, blind luck.
Few though would recognize, even appreciate, the mark of a gifted mass murderer holding the whole rotten apparatus together, eons after the man himself had kicked the bucket.
Thank the gods, he fuckinâ killed them all.
Or had he?
> So long as the vile flesh-eating wizards are extinct and in no position of power, the pirate Lordâs promise stands and the realm is free.
>
> So long as each party present avoids consorting with their unholy remnants, until they in turn are eradicated, the treaties and obligations stand.
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> Those that paid the blood price are bound to its just rewards.
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> As long as the promise stands.
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> If the promise fails and the abominations return, this treaty is null and void. The heritors should take care that never happens. Act swiftly to stop them from spreading like a plague, for they are an enemy to all mankind and their presence an offence to Eodrass himself. If the old one is affronted, the Wyverns might return.
There are were clouds on the sky, but no rain yet. The weather would turn for the worse eventually, but in this part of Regia nearer to the coast, the winters were mild. Storm preferred Novesium himself, even Cartagen, but as lord Nattas stood on top of Alden cityâs Guardtower, watching a minute Sir Lucius inspect his men before leaving for the faraway North -on a mission Nattas wasnât particularly warm on- he couldnât help but wonder, what this winter would be over there.
Or across the Shallow Sea.
Lord Nattas turned his head that way and squinted his eyes looking to the distant West. Where the mighty Khanate ruled the lands of a different continent, aloof and mysterious. The words of the long dead Historian coming back again colored by his descendantâs voice, Nattasâ memory of them still vivid and fresh.
> Strongly it ruled, but not all of it. For that continent is vast. There were parts over there, at the bowels of Eplas, where the earth met the Scalding Sea and its snarling myriad reefs, resembling white Krakenâs teeth.
>
> Where the land was torn apart, beyond the infamous Pale Mountains, where lakes were filled with acid and misshapen rocks bared the marks of talons sharper than steel.
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> Where an Empire that had ruled forever, keeping the Lorians near their shores small and afraid⦠was gone, leaving ashes behind.
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> Where creatures that knew magic and the dark arts, challenged the Gods themselves, taming their beasts and claiming the skies⦠had died, unceremoniously and without fanfare.
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> Leaving nothing but blasted lands behind.
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> Their demise told through the mouth of the vulgar thug
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> Thatâd caused it.
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> Extinct, Reinut the Great had boasted, when the deed was done.
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> And being a creature of the sea, he staked all on it.
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> There on a piece of parchment, with his sign on it.
>
>
>
> Histories volume III
>
> The old realms, chapter IV
>
> -Conclusion, Authorâs afterword-
>
> (Proscribed edition)
>
> Gallio Veturius circa 101 NC
âWhat did you find boss?â Sudi asked, appearing silently next to him. A tendency that had started to seriously get on Stormâs nerves.
Abrakas cock rottinâ in an urn.
Lord Storm Nattas rubbed his chin once, his goatee in urgent need of a trimming and with a last look at the now ready to depart famed heir to the Kingdom of Regia, started walking towards the guard, without answering him.
He climbed down the stairs of the tower in silence, Sudi in tow and reaching its base, paused to rest his legs, the pain on his maimed one welcoming for once. It gave him much needed focus. Sudi eyeing him, cleared his throat deeply worried, wanting to repeat his question no doubt.
âGo ahead,â Storm said, surprising his long time lackey. âAsk away.â
He looked too much like an Issirian, Storm thought. It could be a fuckinâ problem, down the line.
âNow, youâre worrying me more,â Sudi said with a grimace. âYou found something didnât ye? And seeing yer face, it canât be good.â
Storm glanced around them for any onlookers; spotted at least eight of them as a matter of fact, including two of the towerâs guards and answered him in as low voice as it was humanly possible.
Sudi had pretty good ears, for his age.
Which in a way, was also annoying.
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