The Son of Alar E-Book

R. J. Firetail

• Herausgeber: Red Drake Books
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Philip of Red Fields has lived in the shadow of his father Alar for far too long. When his parents are invited to the capital for the wedding of Crown Princess Trina, he can't wait to strike out on his own with the help of his big brother and some new friends. But an assassination attempt on the princess soon changes his priorities, and in defiance of his father, Philip sets out to investigate alone. His search for the truth soon uncovers many secrets that will put his heart, his family, and all of Kentros in grave danger.

Leseprobe

The Son

of Alar

R. J. Firetail

OTHER WORKS BY R. J. FIRETAIL:

THE ALAR SAGA

The Tale of Alar

Dedication

For Arby.

May happiness find you wherever you roam.

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Text Copyright © 2025 by R. J. Firetail

Cover Art Copyright © 2025 by Sara “Caribou” Miles

Published by Red Drake Books,

an imprint of Ash Tree Media

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Visit ashtreemedia.com

Contents

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

Epilogue

About the Author

Prologue

T

he old red squirrel took a deep breath of warm spring air and let it out with a satisfied sigh. How often he had come here over the years, and yet he never tired of the familiar surroundings. The sight of the bright spring blossoms growing in their carefully patterned formations along neatly trimmed hedgerows always brought a smile to his creaky features. Just as they had in the days he had trodden these cobblestone paths with his friends and family.

He carried on down the trail deeper into the garden. Around the end of one hedgerow, he came to a spot where many paths converged into a roundabout surrounded by benches and trimmed grasses. Inside this ring of cobblestone was a narrow band of flowering shrubs, and within this band stood a statue upon a pedestal of polished granite. It was the statue of a fellow red squirrel, at least thrice the size of a real one. He stood cloaked against the ravages of countless seasons, his gaze leading over the tops of the hedgerows to some unknown point on the far southern horizon. One paw rested on the exquisite hilt of a stone sword whose sheath disappeared within the folds of his cloak while the other clasped the brooch that affixed it to his body.

He paused for a moment to admire the lifelike portrayal of the noble squirrel. Then he looked away to the left. Ahh, yes, there he was: that same youth who had taken to coming here every day at the same time he did. Why such a young lad—no more than twenty winters—would stop and contemplate an ancient statue so regularly always made him wonder. Well, perhaps this was the day to find out.

“Good morning,” spoke the old squirrel as he came up beside the youth.

“Morning, sir,” said the lad with a respectful nod.

“You’ve been coming here quite a bit lately. What’s your name?”

“Emlar, sir,” replied the youth.

“Pleased to meet you, Emlar.” He paused, regarding the statue once again. “Quite a piece, isn’t it?”

“Yes, a truly masterful work. I could only hope to be so good one day.”

“You’re a sculptor?”

“I am.”

“Well, you’ll find him a good study.”

“I do. But more than that, I wonder who he was, what he did to warrant such an honor.”

“You’ve read the words around the base, of course.”

“Of course, but they give only a name and a place. They tell nothing of what he did.”

A knowing gleam found its way into the old squirrel’s eye. “Indeed, that is a pity. But his deeds were too numerous to list on a simple epitaph.”

“You know who he is?”

The old squirrel nodded. “Oh yes. I’d be happy to tell you all about him, if you’ve got the time.”

“I’ve nothing but, sir.”

“Good. Then if you’d be kind enough to help me to that bench over there, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

So, Emlar took the old fellow by the arm and guided him to the nearest bench. Once he was comfortably situated, the youth took the seat beside him.

“Right. Listen carefully now, Emlar, and I shall tell you a tale about one of the most extraordinary squirrels this land has ever known.”

1

I

t’s a horse!”

“No, it’s more of a cow.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, look. It’s got the horns and everything.”

“Hmm. S’pose you’re right.”

Two young red squirrels lay in a grassy field gazing at the clouds as they passed, paws folded behind their heads. One was dressed in work clothes, save for his shirt, which had been tossed carelessly aside. The other wore the clean, pressed breeches and a white silken shirt of a noble. His vest lay on the ground, and his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of his sturdily built torso. He sighed and turned to the other.

“I suppose we won’t be doing this again for a while,” he said. “Maybe never.”

“Aye.”

The young noble placed a paw on the other buck’s chest. “I’ll miss you, Ferrell.”

“I’ll miss you too, Phil.”

They leaned into a kiss and ran their paws up and down each other’s bodies, savoring the feel every muscular ridge and the soft fur that coated them. Soon Philip began to reach lower. He had just slipped a paw neatly below Ferrell’s waistline when…

“Philip! Philip, dear, come on, it’s time to go!”

“Shit!” exclaimed Philip. It must be later than he’d thought! He sprang up and began buttoning his shirt. He brushed it off and tucked it in as Ferrell passed him his vest, then threw on his own shirt. The two youths quickly plucked the hay out of one another’s fur, then raced uphill toward the sound of the voice.

“Philip! Where are you?”

Coming around the corner of the barn, they stopped abruptly before a much older red squirrel, who immediately began fussing over Philip, brushing off his shirt and straightening his vest.

“Oh, Philip, there you are. My my, what have you been doing? Cloud gazing in your finest clothes again? I just restitched that vest seam last week. I won’t do it again.” He cast a glance at the other youth. “Morning, Ferrell.”

“Morning, Lord Adam,” said Ferrell.

“I’m fine, dad,” said Philip, rolling his eyes and slipping out of his father’s reach. “Besides, it’ll just get all wrinkled up again during the carriage ride.”

“It had better not,” said his parent, paws on hips. “When we get back from this trip, you can muss it up all you’d like, but not a moment before.”

Philip snorted. As if that would be a problem. “Can we just go now?”

“Of course! Your father’s already got everything loaded up, and you know how he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Any more than he likes anything else, I imagine.”

“Now now, you know that’s not true. Come along!”

They made their way across the pasture toward a house set on top of a hill overlooking the fields and woods away to the northwest, and a broad dirt road running past it to the east. In front of the quaint old dwelling, a blue carriage hitched to two fine-looking horses sat waiting. The door was wide open, and beside it stood two squirrels. The first was the carriage driver, a prim and proper-looking fellow dressed in the elegant velvet and lacework of the royal court. The other figure was far more ominous to Philip, and caused the lad to slow his pace just a bit.

He was a powerfully built squirrel, albeit past his prime. His fur was not bright and lustrous anymore, and had in fact started graying about the muzzle and other extremities. He was not conventionally what one could call handsome, what with his many scars and the slightly stiff paw he held close to his belt. But he nevertheless remained a dominant presence thanks to his build, his sharp upright stance, and his fearsome blue eyes, which indicated a squirrel who did not tolerate fools gladly. His gaze turned on Philip with alarming suddenness.

“Well now, there you are my son,” he said in his rich, commanding baritone. “Done lollygagging, are you?”

“I was waiting for you two to finish getting ready,” said Philip with a shrug.

“I’m sure.” He nodded at Ferrell. “Morning, Ferrell. Send your father my regards, will you?”

“Of course, sir. Have a good journey.”

“Thank you.”

Philip said nothing, so Alar gestured toward the interior of the carriage. “Everything’s all packed and loaded, so hop in.”

Philip turned to Ferrell.

“See you later, I guess.”

“I guess so.”

The two kissed again. Philip made sure to take an extra long time pulling away just to annoy his father. He could imagine him rolling his eyes behind him, but he didn’t care.

“All right, son, you’re not going off to war here.”

Finally Philip broke off, winked at Ferrell, then turned and climbed inside. He took a seat in the far corner of the carriage facing the driver. Adam took the spot opposite him, and finally Alar climbed in and seated himself next to Adam. Good. At least Philip would have his less pushy parent between himself and the other. Not that it would make much difference in this cramped carriage for two days.

As they began moving down the road, Philip leaned his head against the side and looked out the window. He waved goodbye to Ferrell and took one final look at his home for the last seventeen years. It was a beautiful estate, really. The picturesque little house on the hill with its garden so lovingly tended by Adam, the fields kept productive through the hard labor of his other father and their hired paws, the woods by the brook where he and his brother had whiled away their youth. And of course, the meadow where he and Ferrell had had more exciting adventures over the years.

But no longer. He was setting off for a new life and new adventures now, even if his parents didn’t know it as they chatted softly about their journey and how lovely it would be to see their old friends, as well as their other son Tucker and his family, which now included a newborn daughter.

“Our first grandchild,” said Adam. “Just think on it, dear.”

“I’d rather not,” said Alar, coughing a bit from the dust on the road. “Makes me feel even older.”

“Come now, we’re not as old as all that.”

Philip snorted as though to say “Yes, you are!” Alar’s eyes turned on him in a flash.

“Looking forward to meeting your new niece, Phil?”

Philip hated when his father tried to be all buddy-buddy with him by using his nickname, but he replied calmly enough, “Yeah, of course. The more so since I’ll be staying on there.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” said his father, looking out the open window with an almost dismissive air that rankled Philip’s hide. As if he could simply end the conversation like that! Philip continued:

“I will, though. Tuck even said I could stay with him and Rosalina for a while ‘til I can make my own way.”

“Tuck knows how to survive in a large city like Parras.”

“I’ve been there before. I know it well enough.”

“In all fairness, dear, Parras isn’t like Telos,” Adam spoke up.

“Like it enough in some parts,” said Alar.

“Tucker has made a fine life for himself there, and I think it’s high time Philip made some of his own choices.”

“Exactly!” Philip jumped in, seeing one parent at least was on his side.

Alar, undeterred by his mate’s difference of opinion, merely slid his eyes briefly toward Adam, then refocused his gaze on his son.

“Tucker is a responsible young buck who is capable of fending for himself and his family. He always has been. This one has yet to prove himself responsible enough to even keep his vest clean, much less look after the land and title that will someday belong to him.”

“But what if I don’t want all that? Why not give it to Tuck? He’s the oldest.”

“Because Tuck neither needs nor desires the land, and as the oldest, it is his right to give that up to you.” He paused. “Besides, I think Ferrell would make a fine match. He comes from good stock. His father Kendrick has been helping us since we first came to Red Fields.”

“I know all that. And he could come join me once I got established, of course. Just like we’ve always talked about doing.”

“You would make him abandon his home and family?”

Philip shrugged. “He said he’d be fine with it. And if he changed his mind, that’s fine too. It’s not like we’ve made any commitments to each other or anything.”

“And I suppose that little display back there was just for show, then?”

Philip said nothing, so Alar pressed his point home.

“Don’t tell me you have no attachment to him at all. Why else would you spend all that time out in that field sucking his d…”

“Alar!” Adam said sharply, shaking his head ever so slightly.

“Of course I like him,” said Philip, throwing his paws up. “But we’re only seventeen! Why should we have to commit to anything so soon? Why can’t we have a little time to sort things out?”

“Your father and I were married at your age.”

“Well, that’s great, but I’m not you, okay?”

“We’re more alike than you know, Philip. Now quit whining and try to act like a baron’s son.”

Philip heaved a resigned sigh and went back to staring out the window. There was no way in hell he was going back to that boring rustic existence, whatever his father said. But there was no point arguing with Alar about it now. If there was one trait they definitely shared, it was their sheer stubbornness. He would just jump ship once the reunion and wedding were over, and that would be it. In the meantime, though, there was no doubt in the young noble squirrel’s mind that this was going to be a very long carriage ride indeed.

2

P

hilip was practically glued to the window as the carriage rattled and bumped its way down the paved streets of Parras. Ever since the capital city had come into view, he had never stopped looking ahead. He did not want to miss a moment of these exciting new surroundings. Now, as they passed through busy streets full of grand façades and squirrels from across the land, it was all the young baron could do to keep from hopping out the window to get at them that much sooner. Alar and Adam were less awed by the hustle and bustle, but they were clearly overjoyed to be nearing their journey’s end. “My joints can’t handle this kind of travel like they used to,” as Alar had said more than once along the way.

Rounding one last corner, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of a two-story house with a green door and a horseshoe hung above it. Philip was eager to hop out and stretch his legs, but had to wait for his fathers to exit first. His tail turned the inside of the carriage into a small hurricane as he waited, and he shot out as soon as the way was clear. He took a deep breath of city air and let it out. It was not as fresh as the air of Red Fields, but so much freer. Between the tangled web of scents, he detected one that stood out, and that was the heady aroma of possibilities. He could go far in a place like this.

Alar paid and thanked the driver, then asked him to wait while they went inside. He turned to his family and sighed.

“Well, let’s head in, shall we?”

They followed the neat little cobblestone path lined with geraniums up to the door and Alar gave his signature four-stroke knock. Philip threw a quick glance around at the house and the little garden out front. It was simple yet elegant, and had obviously had a lot of time put into it by someone. The door was answered by a doe in a white dress trimmed with green, vinelike designs. Her reddish brown eyes lit up on beholding the three, and she flung her arms around Alar.

“Oh good, you made it!” she exclaimed. “I’m so glad.”

“That we have,” replied Alar with a big smile. “It’s good to see you too, Rosalina. Didn’t expect you to be up and about so soon afterward.”

She shrugged. “It’s been a week. And besides, I couldn’t simply lounge about forever. There’s more work to do than ever around here now we’ve got the baby. Oh, Adam, how wonderful to see you again!”

“Likewise,” said Adam as the two embraced. “And congratulations!”

“Thank you! And thanks for that dress too, by the way. It’s absolutely gorgeous! I’d have worn it today if I’d known you were arriving, though it will be even better to show it off at the grand ball tomorrow.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“You simply must show me how to do that embroidery around the collar. I’ve tried the like before and never quite got it down.”

“Of course! Anytime.”

Rosalina’s gaze at last fell on Philip, who smiled shyly at his sister-in-law and raised a paw in greeting. “Hi, Rosey.”

“Philip! My, how you’ve grown.” She embraced him, then stepped back. “More handsome as well as tall, just like your father.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Philip, shuffling about in embarrassment.

“Come in!” directed Rosalina, holding the door open wide. “Tuck’s upstairs with the baby.”

They stepped inside and looked around at the interior as she shut the door. It had the creaky floors of an older house, but the lively air of a place inhabited by younger squirrels just setting off on life’s journey together. The tablecloths were spotless, and a general coziness pervaded the house that Philip had never really felt back at Red Fields, no doubt thanks to Rosalina’s feminine touch. She once more took the lead as they headed upstairs.

“Will you be staying for lunch?” she asked as they ascended. “I can set some extra places if so.”

“I’m afraid not,” replied Alar. “We’ve got to call at the palace. But we’ll see you both tomorrow night.”

“I look forward to it, then.” They reached the top, and she led them to an open door. She then stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter.

“They’re just in here,” she said in a soft voice.

Alar nodded as they passed through. It was a small room with but a single chair beside a little white cradle, and in this chair sat a tall, slender red squirrel holding a small bundle of blankets. They stood quietly just inside until he lifted his gaze from the bundle, his brown eyes lighting up on beholding his visitors.

“Dads!” he exclaimed softly, rising from the chair. “You made it!”

“How’s it going, Tuck?” spoke Alar, walking over and patting his adoptive son on the shoulder. He looked down at the bundle, from which a baby red squirrel with bright eyes looked back and squeaked. “So, this is our granddaughter, eh?”

“Aye,” replied Tucker proudly. “My own little Lily.”

“She’s got your eyes, Tuck,” remarked Adam.

“She does. But she’s smart like her mum. Would you like to hold her?”

“I’d love to!” exclaimed Adam, gently taking the swaddled infant from her father.

“Philip!” spoke Alar. “Come say hello to your niece.”

“Ho there, Phil!” spoke Tuck, giving his brother a friendly slap on the arm. “Taking good care of dads, are you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” mumbled Philip, peeved with his father’s sharp tone as he stepped up to see the baby. The little tyke squealed with delight on beholding her uncle, and tried to reach for his whiskers. Everyone chuckled, and even Philip could not help but smile at his niece. So lively, so innocent, and gone all too quickly as Tuck took her back from Adam.

“I suppose I can’t entice you into staying for tea or anything?” he spoke.

“We’ve got to call at the palace,” repeated Alar. “But we’ll see you at the ball and the wedding, and of course, we’ll be sure to stop by once more before we leave town.”

“Ah. All right then. Well, we look forward to both. See you ‘round, dads.”

“See you later, son,” said Alar. He gave a parting wave to the baby, then he and Adam made for the door. “Come, Philip.”

“In a bit,” he said, waving his fathers on. Alar looked as though he was going to insist, but Adam whispered something in his ear and pulled him gently along. Alar reluctantly gave in and proceeded down the stairs, leaving his two sons alone.

“Tuck, I…”

“I know, mate. You want to stay here once they leave.”

“But how…”

Tuck winked. “Call it a big brother’s intuition, but I can tell you and dad still aren’t getting on very well.”

“To say the least,” muttered Philip.

“Philip!” Alar’s voice rang out from downstairs. “Time to leave!”

Philip rolled his eyes and sighed dejectedly.

“Look Phil, you know me and Rosey would be happy to have you stay with us. Help you find your own way and all that. But think about it first. Remember, with you and me gone, it’d be just the two of them out there on their own with a bit of hired help, and they’re not as young as they used to be.” He placed one paw on Philip’s shoulder. “We’re family. And in the end, it’s up to us to look after our own.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Just think on it. Meantime, enjoy your stay in the palace. It’s an absolute wonder of a place.” He gave his shoulder a friendly pat and stepped back. “See you tomorrow night.”

“See you.” He cast one more glance at his niece and twitched a smile, then turned and scurried downstairs. He met up with Adam and Alar at the door.

“All right, let’s go,” he said.

Alar eyed him suspiciously, but was again prompted by Adam’s gentle “Let’s go, dear,” to say no more.

They waved to Rosalina and closed the door behind them, then returned to the carriage.

“Good thing it’s only three blocks,” muttered Alar unhappily as they resumed their seats.

The driver shut the door for them and took up his position. Out the window of the carriage, Philip spotted a young gray squirrel standing on the corner. He was well dressed, like most nobles in this quarter, with a silken shirt, a blue velvet doublet, and short red trousers. He looked from side to side, then rested his gaze on the carriage. His eyes roved across to the window, and Philip’s heart nearly froze as the gray’s gaze locked onto his. He had a very ordinary face—no distinguishing marks of any kind. And yet, there was something in those dark eyes that caused a stirring of…of what? Philip did not know, nor did he care. But he suddenly wished he could get to know that squirrel better.

But in the blink of an eye, he was gone. The driver gave a sharp “Hyah!” and the carriage lurched into motion as the horses took off at a canter. Philip slowly turned away and noticed Alar staring at him.

“What were you looking at?” he asked.

“Just taking in the view while I can,” said Philip with a shrug as he cast his gaze downward. Not that it’s any of your business, he thought. He did not look up to see whether his father believed him or not, though he could easily guess. Still, since he didn’t press the issue, Philip saw no need to explain any more. They continued their ride in silence until Adam remarked on how nice Rosalina and Tucker kept their house, which Alar agreed with.

Their conversation continued until their carriage passed through the palace gate and pulled up to the bottom of the stairs. Philip again hopped out eagerly behind his elders. Only once before had he seen the palace, and that had been from outside the walls. He tried to contain himself as he finally beheld the grand structure with its neatly tended window boxes, ivy-strewn walls, and ornately designed doors. But he failed. Adam noticed his tail twitching and leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Quite a sight, isn’t it dear?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Philip reluctantly admitted as a high-ranking gray squirrel with a slightly bowed back strode down the stairs to meet them.

“Hail, my good barons!” he spoke.

“Trellon!” exclaimed Alar with evident delight. “How are you, you old rascal?”

“I’ve been better. Have a good ride up from Red Fields?”

Alar shrugged. “No ride is too pleasant for me nowadays, but we didn’t run into any trouble, at least.”

“Very good! I am glad to see you again. Their Majesties would have been here to greet you themselves, but they had an important engagement with Lord Frandar and the royal tailor, so they sent me to guide you in.”

“Much appreciated. By the way, Trellon, allow me to introduce our son, Philip.”

“Ahh, pleased to meet you at last, young lord,” said Trellon, shaking Philip’s paw. “Your parents have told us so much about you.”

“Pleasure,” replied Philip, though he was distracted by the way Trellon seemed to study him for a moment before releasing his paw.

“Will you need help with your baggage?”

“No thanks, Trellon,” replied Alar. “We didn’t bring too much.”

“Very well. This way, sirs.”

They marched up the stairs behind the royal adviser, hauling their own travel bags. Philip silently cursed his father’s pride, which saddled them with the heavy load instead of some proper palace porters, but his excitement at the prospect of finally seeing the famed interior of the most beautiful building in all of Kentros mollified him somewhat. They came to the top of the stairs slightly winded and proceeded inside. Philip nearly dropped his luggage at the sight.

It was nothing at all like their quaint country cottage. There were no creaky floors or drafty windows here. Instead there were polished marble floors, richly adorned walls, and a brilliantly lit chandelier casting a soft glow across the whole room. This was sheer splendor compared to life in the country. Beauty and sophistication were the norm here rather than the exception, and Philip couldn’t help wishing he had grown up in such luxury.

“This way, my lords!” spoke Trellon, directing them to one of the elegantly curved stairwells leading to the long slew of guest rooms on the second floor. Philip was amazed at just how plush the carpet was. It felt so nice compared to the hardwood floors back home, or even the rugs in Tuck’s house.

Arriving on the second floor, Trellon led them to the end of a short corridor.

“Your usual accommodations, I believe.”

“Indeed,” replied Alar as they set their belongings down at last. “Many good memories in these rooms.”

“Now, if his young lordship would come this way,” Trellon continued.

“Philip has separate chambers?” spoke Adam.

“But of course! Their Majesties wouldn’t want their guests to be too cramped during their stay.”

Alar and Adam exchanged glances, then Alar nodded.

“Very well. But it’s not too far away, is it?”

“Not at all, my lord. Just at the end of the next corridor.”

“All right. Carry on.”

Philip once more lifted his bags and followed Trellon. He could hardly believe he would actually be getting his own private quarters! Life at the palace really was good. Trellon opened the door to another room. It was a smaller version of his parents’ chambers without an anteroom: only a bedroom and a small washroom to the side. Philip set his belongings down beside the bed and looked around in sheer delight.

“Now, if you would wait with your fathers, young sir, I shall be back momentarily to take you all to the king and queen.”

So, Philip rejoined his parents, who were busy setting up their room.

“Thank you, Trellon,” said Alar.

“My pleasure, sir. I shall return presently.”

The royal courtier bowed and retreated from the room, closing the door behind. Philip immediately walked over to the window and looked out to see the east side of the grounds, which were positively verdant with budding fruit trees and neatly trimmed hedges. His tail twitched with an eagerness to race out there and take a stroll in his best clothing among the noblest squirrels in all of Kentros. Not that he had much finery—only one outfit that Adam had made, really. He once more quietly cursed his other father’s stinginess. One would think a baron of a successful estate could afford a bit better.

He sighed and turned to inspect the rest of the quarters. It amazed him how much space they had. These three rooms alone were nearly as big as their entire house at Red Fields! He cast a glance at the fireplace, then passed into the middle room where his fathers already stood with the door to the main bed chamber open peering inside.

“Hasn’t changed a bit,” Alar remarked.

“I think they put up new curtains since last time we were here,” said Adam. “Very fine velvet, at that. Same with the bedding.”

“That’ll make things more comfortable for sure,” said Alar with a sly grin toward his mate.

“What do we do now?” spoke Philip.

“Best take the opportunity to freshen up before we meet our hosts,” replied Alar. “You first, my son.”

Philip sighed, rolled his eyes, and slunk over to the wash basin. He splashed some water on his face and paws and did his best to fluff up the fur tuft between his ears like he’d seen several young squirrels do here in the city. He smiled at his parents as he dried his paws. Adam smiled back, but Alar merely shook his head and stepped up to wash next.

It was shortly after Adam finished that there came a knock at the door. Alar rushed to answer it.

“I return,” spoke Trellon. “I take it your lordships are ready?”

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” replied Alar, looking over his family.

“Very good. Follow me then.”

They proceeded down the corridor to the entry hall again. But rather than descend the stairs, they continued further on to a set of doors more elaborate and ornamented than the rest. Trellon took hold of the knobs and pushed the doors open with practiced smoothness, then stepped in to announce, “The Right Honorable Lords Alar and Adam of Red Fields, and their son, the Honorable Philip of Red Fields.”

He stepped aside, allowing the three noble squirrels to enter the room. Like the entry hall, the floor was covered in polished marble and a long, velvety carpet stretching from the door all the way to the grand window at the other end of the chamber. The ceiling was covered in magnificent paintings of scenes from Kentroan history and legend. But all of this was outshone by the four red squirrels standing in the center of the room. The three nobles stopped several paces away and bowed.

“Your Majesties,” spoke Alar. But he got no further ere the elder male squirrel wearing a doublet and cloak of evergreen to set off his still bright red fur came up and took him in a hearty embrace.

“Come now, what have I told you about such formalities, Alar?” he spoke in a tone of reprimand. “You’re like a brother to us, and I’ll have no brother of mine bowing and scraping to me.”

“Well, I just thought…” Alar motioned vaguely toward Philip.

“Ahh, yes of course! Got to show the lad how to do it proper and all that.” He strode over to Philip and held out a paw. “Pleased to meet you at last, young lord. Your fathers have told me all about you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty,” Philip managed to say despite the overwhelming personality of the king. He shook the proffered paw and bowed slightly. Fagan nodded.

“Good firm grip,” he said. “Just like your father.” He looked over Philip’s shoulder. “Good to see you again, Adam. Been keeping these two rogues out of mischief, I hope?”

“Doing the best I can.”

“Fagan, do give our guests a bit of breathing room, if you would.”

“Of course, my dear, of course,” said Fagan, stepping aside to allow his wife to approach.

So this is Queen Ambrosia, thought Philip in wonder. Truly, for a middle-aged doe, time had been kind to her. Though she was not in her prime, she was still a remarkably beautiful squirrel, and whatever she may have lost with the years, she made up for with the dignified grace of her movements and elegance of her dress. She was every bit the Queen of Kentros.

“My dear Alar,” she spoke, embracing him with much more care than Fagan.

“It’s always a pleasure to see you again, Ambrosia.”

“Likewise to you and Adam.”

Adam lowered his head modestly.

“And now your son,” she added, at last setting eyes on the young squirrel. Her eyes were hazel like his, albeit a bit darker. Philip’s gaze met hers, and there it rested for an uncomfortable moment. For the second time that day, Philip felt the gaze of a stranger boring into him. But there was something more about Ambrosia’s gaze. It made him uneasy, and after remembering to lower his head and utter a quick “Pleased to meet Your Majesty,” he was forced to look away.

“Pardon my stare, Philip,” said the queen with a reassuring smile. “But you are a very handsome young squirrel.”

Philip uttered an embarrassed “Thank you,” before stepping back.

“Speaking of which, here are our own fine-looking children,” spoke Fagan. “It’s been a while, but surely your lordships will remember our daughter Trina and our son Ambrose.”

The two stepped forward and Trina curtsied as Ambrose bowed stiffly. The princess was the spitting image of her mother in former days, albeit with blue eyes, while the prince looked something like his mother, but nothing at all, Philip thought, like his father. He dared not dwell on this detail too long, though something about these two squirrels, whom he guessed were about his age, also gave him a funny feeling. At first he feared that he was actually attracted to the prince, but then he realized that it was something else—not at all the same kind of pull he felt toward Ferrell. This was something wholly unfamiliar to him, and it deepened his unease.

“Indeed, it has been many years,” Alar spoke, shaking the prince’s paw and bowing to the princess. “I’ve not seen either of you since you were mere kittens, I fear.”

“It is an honor to reacquaint ourselves with you, then,” spoke the princess in that same dignified manner as the queen.

“Yes, our mother and father have told us all about your extraordinary deeds in the olden days,” said Ambrose. “We are privileged to finally shake your paws. As well as that of your son!” he added as he came to Philip.

The young baron chuckled self-consciously, though he certainly liked the prince. It was hard to imagine that anyone could dislike such a charming and good-looking buck.

“So, how is the bride-to-be two days out from the wedding?” asked Adam.

“Oh, I’m very much looking forward to the great day,” replied Trina. “More even than the grand ball tomorrow evening.”

“It’s been no end of planning, to be sure,” spoke Fagan. “More planning has gone into this wedding than all my years of running a whole kingdom! I’ll tell you about it over a late lunch, shall I?”

“Sound idea!” said Alar.

And so, the royal party headed downstairs to the great dining hall, where more introductions ensued. Most were but a blur to Philip afterward. Only the Captain of the Guard, a handsome young fox squirrel named Corryn, and his gray squirrel lieutenant, Tonos, stood out. Philip shook paws with both as he had been taught, but sensed from a quick glance down that Corryn might be interested in more than mere formalities.

Afterward, they took their seats and ate their way through such fare as Philip had never tasted before. He did not deny that his father Adam was a good cook, but his simple homely fare was not to be compared with these masterful concoctions of the royal kitchen. He feared he might get a stomachache from eating so much rich fare all at once, but he was prevented from overindulging by the sense that he was being carefully observed throughout the whole meal. Every time he looked up, he was sure that one or more of the adults rapidly looked away. What was it that suddenly made him so interesting to everyone? Shouldn’t all their focus be on the bride-to-be? He began to fear that perhaps there was a stain on his vest or else something caught in his whiskers, but he discreetly checked both and found nothing.

Fortunately he found some diversion from their gawking in Prince Ambrose. Despite his courtly air, the prince was quite easy to talk to. He even fluffed up his head fur the same way Philip had.

“You know there are even mixtures you can put in your fur to make it hold its shape better,” he told Philip.

“Really?”

Ambrose nodded. “Yes. I’ll send some to you later, shall I?”

“Thanks!”

“By the way, Philip, you don’t happen to play table tennis where you’re from, do you?”

“‘Fraid not.”

“Well, I’ll teach you sometime. I can tell you’d make a fine challenger with a bit of practice. I could use one of those, to be quite plain.”

By the time the dessert courses came around, they were fast friends. He thought once or twice of Ferrell, and what a shame it was he couldn’t be here as well. But there was naught to be done about it, so he did his best to enjoy the trifle.

At last the hour came when they all bade each other good night. The royals retired to their chambers and the party from Red Fields to theirs. On the way back, Philip asked his fathers, “Why was Queen Ambrosia staring at me so much?”

“Staring?” repeated Alar absent-mindedly.

“You had to notice! She was looking at me all evening.”

Alar and Adam exchanged fleeting, almost unnoticeable glances before Adam replied, “Who can say, dear? I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

“Perhaps it’s because you remind her a bit of her own father,” offered Alar. “You do look like the late King Ambrose.”

“Do I?”

“Oh yes, a bit,” replied Adam. “At any rate, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Just you go on back to your room and get a good night’s sleep now. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“All right. Night, dads.”

“Good night, son,” replied Alar. “Sleep well.”

Philip returned to his chambers and washed up, certain that his fathers were not telling him something. What it was he didn’t know, and he was too tired and full to guess, either. But that didn’t keep him from wondering right up to the moment he undressed, said his evening prayers, then lay down for the night. Only one thought seemed to penetrate his pondering, and it was a strange one: the face of that gray squirrel he had seen earlier. Who was he? Where did he come from? Why had he been on that street corner at that exact moment? He would probably never know, but the thought made him smile. Then slumber overtook him and dreams of mysterious squirrels filled his night with wonders.