Forging Rust

by Reserved Rodent

co-authored with AJH

Chapter Eighteen

Show me

Rust's tail twitched as he walked towards the tent holding the prisoner. His brow was furrowed mirroring the slight frown on his muzzle.

Lord Deke, the lion on duty outside the tent, wore well cared for scout armor and kept one tawny paw on his sword hilt as the rat approached. “Identify yourself clearly!”

The rat paused before the guard. “Squire Rust, serving Lord Chase of House Lynx.”

After scrutinizing the rodent closely, the lion nodded. “Yes, you may pass. And put a fricking smile on, willya?” The lion chuffed a laugh.

“Yes sir.” Rust cracked a mild grin before entering the tent.

The Squire froze, letting the tent flap slip closed behind him, as his eyes took in the free-standing cage in the middle of the tent – just like the one he had been held in as a slave. Seeing the thick bars alone made his heart rate spike and paw pads sweat.

The stoat sitting in the center of the small iron cage hissed. “Falsharr tarelanian rodentinu!”

Rust shook his head, keeping the slight grin on his muzzle as he started moving around the cage to make sure the prisoner looked healthy. While the unwashed barbarian stank of body odor, it was obvious he was not suffering.

“That's a mighty fine sounding curse. Does it translate well?” The rodent asked softly, amused, before adding, “I am Squire Rust, of House Lynx.”

Growling lowly, the stoat whipped his paw at the rat, claws out. “You come here. Me show!”

Rust shook his head. The rat padded around the cell, still out of the barbarian’s reach. “No. I've had enough bad memories from my time in a similar cage. How often does the saber-toothed tiger with dark fur and scarred shoulders lead your raids?”

The prisoner glared at the Squire, following his every move. “Me tell you nothing, Karunt!” The stout growled again.

“How many of your tribe has he sacrificed to have this attack continue?” Rust paused before the cage.

The barbarian stuttered angrily, eyes narrowing. “You lie! You quiet!”

“I do not mean to suggest that he is not a powerful leader and warrior.” The rat scratched the center of his chest, where he imagined being run through earlier. Those images still seemed real enough to describe. “But in battle, I saw him pull your warriors before him to block blows. I've seen him throw your wounded at Knights to slow them down. There is a difference between giving your lives in the cause of a great leader's vision, and allowing him to throw your lives away.”

“You... You lie! He lead us well. We are... soldiers... not cattle. You lie!”

Rust met the stoat's gaze without flinching. “You are great warriors. You do your land and people proud with your strength and bravery, but I wonder why you are not in your lands. I wonder what you have been seeking here.”

“We... We're starving... we die... we need your lands... we fight to take...” The barbarian's brow furrowed and his paws clenched and relaxed several times.

“Your armies have been destroying fertile lands that could have fed both of our peoples. You've pushed past those lands, leaving them in no shape to feed anyone. What has he told you he's after? It's like he's hunting for something other than food for your tribe.”

The stoat shook his head. “You! Knights burn Akostas lands. You! You did it! He... rescue us... take revenge...” the barbarian watched his paws clenching and stilled them.

“Several months ago, I was in a cage like you are now, so I have no idea what exactly happened. What I do know is that revenge won't feed your people. I have heard that this saber-tooth you follow, Vander, had hired some mercenaries to wear Brotherhood sigils and burn several of your settlements. He created this war and is using you.”

The stoat's hackles rose. “Lies! Me saw what you did. We not enough to fight alone. Vander lead us. He save us. You lie!”

“Then why have there been no goods captured and sent back to your lands?”

The tent stayed silent for several seconds before a low growl rumbled from the barbarian. “Vander... he...” The growl and speech fell silent.

“Vander is not fighting to feed your tribe.” Rust said softly.

“He... No...” The barbarian's paws hung lose at his side. “But... Brotherhood Knights killed my family. I saw.”

The rat sat on the ground before the cage, crossing his legs. “Tell me what you saw. I'm listening to your side of this to get the whole story figured out, instead of just one part.”

“Is trap... you... you're trap.” The stoat backed up to the far side of the cage and sat down, back against the bars, paws wrapped around his knees. “...trap.”

“I'm sorry you lost your family. I'd like to find a way to stop you from losing anything more. I want to help you.”

“Why you help? You cage me. You bring sword. You hate.” The stoat's ears lowered.

“I captured you because I hoped to find a way to put a stop to all the bloodshed. I don't want you dead. I don't even want you in that damn cage; but since we haven't got an understanding yet, it keeps both of us safe. Your being caged is something that I can fix. Death is permanent.” The rodent's voice was firm, but his earnest nature showed nonetheless.

The stoat looked up, tilting his head as he looked the rat up and down. “Release. Let out. Me... talk. Show honest to Raskif. Show me.”

Rust's eyes focused on the stoat's for several breaths. “Raskif. That's your name?”

The stoat stared back. He didn't answer. “...show.”

The rat nodded and stood. He took off his scabbard and walked to the front of the tent to set it on the table set next to the flap. He then picked a rusty iron key from the same table. “This is a chance for us both to show we are working together.” Rust padded up to the cage and unlocked the door, pulling it open as he stepped back, giving the prisoner plenty of room to exit.

The stoat, Raskif, stood and slowly moved to the cage door. He stepped out, took another two steps and sat down on the ground, cross-legged, unarmed. “We not barbarians.”

Eyes never leaving the stoat, the Squire carefully lowered himself into a sitting position, opposite the malnourished male. “Understood, so let's talk. I would like to hear how you lost your family, although I understand if it is too painful or private to talk about with me at this time.”

Head down, Raskif's ears flattened. “Tribe poor. We work fields. The Knights come, burning and slaving and killing.” The stoat took a deep breath and let it out unevenly.

After he was sure the other male was finished, Rust spoke up. “I grew up working fields too. We worked for Lord Thunder, a retired member of the Brotherhood, but not as slaves. He and the Brotherhood protected us. When I was enslaved, it was my Lord Chase who actually saved me from that life.”

The stoat looked up, jaw hanging slack for a moment. “You... You're a freed slave? But you fight for Brotherhood. Slaves have no rights. The Brotherhood takes slaves.”

“I was not enslaved by the Brotherhood. My family had too many sons. There was no chance I would get land to farm, so I left the farm and went to a large city. I struggled to survive on the streets and...” Rust reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “I got framed by a band of furs who were more devious than I was clever. When I was tried, thankfully the judge enslaved me rather than sending me to the gallows. My lord saw something in me, even as I was in a cage.” The rat looked at the steel bars behind the stoat. “He bought me to be his Squire. I'm happy to have been given that chance.”

“But they do take slaves. They rode in black armor, with Brotherhood symbol and red stripe. They took slaves and burned and killed.”

Rust shook his head. “No. Our armor is steel and silver. While all have the symbol of the Brotherhood on them, they do not have a red stripe. Each house has its own sigil that is worn on a Knight's armor.”

“Knights who watch Raskif no wear silver armor,” the stoat snarled.

Rust tilted his head, remembering that Lord Deke wore a light suit of scout armor. “The guards who watch over you need to be able to move rapidly to give chase if you escape. Scouting armor makes that easier. In any case, I imagine none of them were wearing dark armor like you saw, nor bore the red stripe in addition to the Brotherhood sigil.”

The prisoner glared at Rust quietly for several breaths before growling. “Easy to trick with guards when few enter tent.”

“If you give me your word of honor to stay by my side, I can take you to see if my lord will show you his armor. You might also see other Knights practicing in their full battle armor, so you can see for yourself it was not the Brotherhood who attacked your people.”

“You would take me through camp?” The stoat pulled back towards the cage.

Rust nodded. “Yes. I want you to trust you are being shown the truth. You walking through the camp means you can watch for the suits of armor you saw. You will see that what I have told you is true even before we get to my lord's tent to see his armor. Allowing you to see the camp in every day life also shows I am serious about working with you – about making you a true ally rather than hiding things or controlling what information you have.”

The stoat's eyes narrowed as he watched the rat. “At war. Much hate for my tribe by Brotherhood.”

“True. Both sides have shed a lot of blood. While I've had furs that I've trained with fall beside me, I know that if I can prevent more bloodshed from happening, they would be honored. Give your word of honor that you will not try to escape and that you will keep an open mind as I show you the truth. Do this and I will defend your life as I would my brothers. I will keep you safe within the camp.” Rust's whiskers twitched. “To prevent misunderstandings, I will wear my sword. Will you trust me to do this?”

Raskif gave a slow nod. “I will see truth. You responsible. I... I not want to die.”

The Squire stood and retrieved his sword, buckling the scabbard back around his waist.

The stoat held out his paws. “Best to tie, yes?”

“I believe you are right. It's best that those in the camp understand you are not trying to escape. I will defend your safety as we pass through the camp and back, but the more we can prevent misunderstandings, the better.”

The rodent took a leather cord and bound the stoat's paws securely without causing him discomfort. Rust padded to the flap leading from the tent and called out, “Lord Deke, I'm coming out with the prisoner. Raskif's paws are bound and I have accepted his word he will not run. We will be proceeding to Lord Chase's tent.”

“Understood, you and the prisoner are clear to step out of the tent.” The guard responded, formally. As Rust and Raskif stepped from the tent, he gave the rat a nod. “I will escort you. If he escapes, it is my fault.”

The stoat whispered, “Promise... Promise you tell the truth.”

Rust nodded to the stoat. “I'm telling you the truth as I understand it.” The Squire gave Deke a nod as well. “I trust Raskif means what he has said. In any case, I will take responsibility for any problems that arise.”

“Your willingness to take responsibility for your decisions does your house and lord proud, Squire. Lead on.”

The rat's scarred ear twitched at the compliment, but he smiled and led the way towards the Knight's tents.

The stoat stayed close to Rust as they padded through the camp. As they proceeded, their passing was noticed by a growing number of Brotherhood troops. A pair of warriors, a wolf and bear, growled at the stoat.

Rust kept moving, giving them a silent glare that warned them to keep their distance.

More and more of those in sight paused to watch the trio.

Both Rust and Deke kept alert, the rodent projecting an air of confidence as he strode towards his lord's tent.

Raskif showed no fear as he was led through the camp, his eyes focused on following the Squire. When Rust paused outside a tent, the stoat's eyes moved up to look over the sigil – a mailed fist breaking a chain surrounded by a wreath – hanging over the flap.

“Lord Lynx,” Rust called. “Are you in?”

From within, the lynx's deep voice responded, “Come.”

“I have brought the warrior Raskif to see the armor you wear to battle. I hope to convince him it was not the Brotherhood who attacked his village.”

The lynx didn't answer, and the Squire took that as an acceptance of his methods.

Rust stepped inside, holding the flap back for the Stoat.

Lord Chase was sat at the wide table, studying a map. “Who?” the lynx asked absently. He looked up and quickly covered the map when he saw the stoat. “Ah.”

“Raskif is the Akostas tribesman I caught. I've accepted his promise that he will not attempt to escape, and have promised him he will not be harmed. His tribe was attacked, their village burned. I am hoping to prove that the dark armored force was not the Brotherhood, despite their bearing our sigil. I've described the armor our Knights wear into battle, and he has made the reasonable request for proof. I hope that seeing your, and other Knight's armor will put him at ease so we can work together to find a way to end the invasion, and track down those who actually hurt his tribe.”

The lynx nodded, and the rodent knew him well enough to know that he was hiding a smile. Rust usually didn't have such stilted, formal delivery, and it amused the Knight.

The feline gestured at his arming rack. Alongside his lighter leather armor, the heavy silver plates carried only the House Lynx sigil and that of the Brotherhood – a mailed fist clutching a bolt of lightning.

The stoat wined a little. “No... No... Is right symbol, but no Knight symbol... all on banners, not branded in armor...”

Lord Chase stood behind the two, watching intently, a sheathed dagger in easy reach.

“A Knight's heraldry is personal. Each one means something to the individual who bears it. I'm sorry for what happened to your village, but the Brotherhood exists to stop such vile actions, not commit them.”

“Then who? Why kill?” Raskif knelt slowly, eyes wide, staring at the plates.

Behind his Squire, Chase placed a paw on the sheathed blade, but remained otherwise still and silent.

Rust crouched by the stoat, putting their eyes on the same level, while remaining on his feet. “Someone who wanted to raise an army that hated the Brotherhood. Someone who didn't care who got hurt or killed to do so.”

Raskif started to sob quietly. Wet tears rollled down his brown-furred cheeks. Shaking his head, he began muttering. “Lies... He lied... Vander lies!”

The rat reached out, lightly resting a paw on the stoat's shoulder. “Raskif, nothing can be done to change the past. What we can do – what I hope you want to help me do – is stop more families from being destroyed. We can stop more villages from being ransacked. I want to find a way to help both our people, to stop taking our pain and creating more pain from it.”

The stoat shrugged Rust's paw off his shoulder. “Need to think. Put back in cage.”

The Squire nodded and stood. “Okay. I'll get you safely back there to think in private.”

Raskif stumbled to his footpaws, filthy clothing damp with tears and sweat. He stood at Rust's side.

“You ready for the walk back?” the Squire inquired softly. “I didn't tell anyone, but I think my legs were shaky for two full days after I got out of my cage.”

“Lead,” the stoat said, nodding gently.

“Lord Deke, we are coming out now to head back.” Rust called, nearing the front.

“Understood. All clear to come out.” the lion returned.

The trio was watched on the way back, but returned without incident.

Once inside the tent, Raskif looked at the rat. “Cage?”

Rust unbound the stoat's paws and nodded. “Yes, though if you want to take a little more time now to stretch, I'll be happy to stay.

Raskif took a few minutes to stretch before clambering back inside the cage. He looked up at the Squire as the door was shut and locked. “Rust... Thank you.”

Smiling, Rust nodded. “You're welcome, Raskif. Thank you for being willing to listen to and talk with me. Would you like me to drop by when I can, or would you rather I left you alone to think until you let a guard know to get word to me?”

“I call.”

“Okay.” Rust nodded, double-checking that everything was locked up and back where it had been originally. “Until next time.” As he turned to leave, the Squire softly added, “I will request you're given clean clothes, and a bucket to bathe in.” He left before the stoat could say more.

When Rust stepped outside, Chase was waiting there, sword on his back and arms folded behind him.

“My lord,” Rust stood at attention, unconsciously.

The lynx's fur ruffled in the light breeze. “Kneel.” Thew command was firm.

The Squire cautiously knelt before the Knight, his ear with the hole in it twitching.

Chase held out his right paw. “Remove your jerkin. Return my sigil.”

The Squire paused a moment, mind racing, wondering what he had done wrong, what dishonor required such a gesture.

Eventually, the rat took off his jerkin, paws shaking slightly. He folded it neatly and placed it in the large paw. His bare chest fur lightly twitched in the wind and the scars on his shoulders and back from when he had been whipped felt cold.

The Knight held out his other paw, which held another jerkin – also in House Lynx red. “Take it.”

Carefully, Rust lifted the offered jerkin. On top of the folded garment, in a spot that would sit proudly on the chest, was a symbol – a mailed fist breaking a chain, surrounded by a wreath. It was much like the one he had just returned. However, atop the fist, wings spread wide, was the sillouette of a bird – a swift.

“You make me proud.” The feline said, resting a paw on the younger male's shoulder. He squeezed gently. “Squire of House Lynx.”

“Thank you, sir.” Rust said, looking up.

The lynx smiled, his paw gently stroking the Squires undamaged ear. “The rest of the day is yours,” he said, before turning and heading to the Knights' mess.