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The Legend of Karok - Chapter 1

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Poverty Isn't a Choice

Prince Mortesen of Cosium watched from a higher point as the infamous Karok rode his stag straight toward the gulch, staying two lengths in front of the pursuing horses. The thief crouched low on its back just as they rounded a stretch of trees and the wide barrier came into view. Everyone behind him pulled up, but the stag took the jump, landing on the other side with room to spare. Then they sprinted off into the trees.

The hedgehog prince grinned to himself and signaled his soldiers to go around. They acknowledged his wish and rode west along the ravine. He slid down the steep hillside and waited.

Sure enough, the masked vagabond dressed completely in black appeared, trying to take the quickest route out of the valley, but a wall of broken stone blocked the path. He stopped, sensing a trap.

“I knew you'd try to escape, Karok,” the black hedgehog with fiery stripes along his quills said as he stepped out of the brush. “I had my soldiers drive you this way on purpose.”

“Prince Mortesen,” he growled, voice almost boyishly high.

No one had been able to get this close to Karok, and now Mortesen could see that his fur was blue because his ears poked through a wide-brimmed hat, and the mask didn't cover the lower half of his face. He still couldn't be sure what species he was, though.

“I wanted a chance to capture you myself,” he said, drawing his sword. “There's a way around that ravine, but it'll take my men about ten minutes or so to get here. That should be enough time to bring you to your knees.”

Despite this threat, the corner of Karok's mouth turned upward as though he enjoyed the notion of a challenge. His weapon glinted in the sunlight as he dismounted and gave his steed a reassuring pat. It daintily stepped into the trees, not at all concerned. Mortesen realized with a jolt that it had to be a Mystical because it had no saddle or harness, and there was a gleam of intelligence in its eye as it threw a look at him and snorted.

“You're certainly overconfident, Prince. But then, it's not as though you know enough to realize how vulnerable it makes you,” he jeered, the tip of his sword flicking out to test Mortesen's defense.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” he asked, parrying with Ribbon in the Air.

“Only that it's easy to fool someone whose ego is half as large as yours.”

Karok thrust at him using Watered Silk and he barely ducked in time, countering with The Sapling Trembles, but it missed the mark. Mortesen's brow furrowed as they went back and forth silently for another minute or two. This vagabond had been trained in formal sword-fighting, and clearly from a young age. Some of the sword forms were unusual variations of those he himself had learned, but it was beyond obvious that his opponent knew precisely what he was doing.

The thief backed off a step, derision in his voice as he shouted, “You and your ilk make me sick! Arrogance is the sign of a weak heart—of a coward!”

Mortesen's eyes narrowed, beginning to flame with rage. “When I have you at my mercy I'd like to see you call me a coward to my face again.”

“If you beat me, that will just prove your swordsmanship, not your courage. And the way your father has forced his people to steal so they can survive only to turn around and condemn them as thieves shows he's a lackluster ruler who doesn't know a thing about his own kingdom. An ignorant, heartless king cannot teach bravery to anyone.”

The accusation and the insult were so infuriating that Mortesen charged with The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain, sword swinging in an arc toward his opponent's chest. He would have easily been beaten right then since he wasn't thinking rationally, but a blistering wind also came driving at Karok from every direction as the prince tapped into his Element.

The magical attack drove Karok back, making him shut his eyes tight to keep sand from getting in them, then Mortesen disarmed him with a solid slash. The black hedgehog spun in a circle, ramming an elbow into his stomach. His opponent dropped to the ground, wheezing for breath.

Never insult the Royal family, you lowlife!” he spat.

Karok lay on the ground, eyes still closed as he coughed. The raging wind faded away. The prince reached down and grasped the mask to rip it off and Karok tried to stop him, but he batted the hand away. Then the second it was off, he saw the feminine features that had been hidden underneath.

Mortesen jerked back with a surprised noise. “Y-You're a girl?!

She no longer wheezed, but she still seemed weak and didn't move. He pulled off the black cloth covering the back of her head and realized she was a hedgehog with a slight curl to her quills.

Was it really...her?

He was leaning close to her now, his fingers touching the smooth fur of her cheek in something almost like tenderness. He was so distracted that he didn't notice her hand sliding down into a pouch at her waist.

Then suddenly she mashed a fistful of powder directly into his face! Mortesen pulled away, sneezing and rubbing his eyes, then in the space of a few breaths he fell over, senseless.

Pushing herself back up, she grabbed her mask and quill-cover as she whistled for the stag. It came over and she was about to mount when her eyes were drawn once more to the black hedgehog. She would never get another chance like this.

When the soldiers arrived a minute later, both Karok and the prince of Cosium were gone.



He felt cool earth beneath his head and smelled the unfamiliar mingled scents of ash, flowers and softbark pine all around.

Mortesen opened his eyes. He was in a one-room cottage, nearly devoid of furniture except for a low table, a chair and a flat sleeping pallet on the floor. Very little was on the walls aside from three shelves and several pegs with cloaks and other clothing; there was also a broom in the corner, a water bucket, a large wooden crate and rows of baskets along the wall. Flowers he couldn't identify hung drying from the low rafters. The girl was seated at the table, writing.

He instantly tried to use his Element, but it was completely blocked. Looking down, he saw manacles on his wrists. There were symbols etched into the metal.

“Where did you get these!?” he shouted.

She ignored him until she was done writing, then took a handful of fine sand, pouring it onto the paper to help the ink dry faster. After ten seconds she carefully poured the leftover sand back into its dish and folded the paper, setting it on a shelf before finally turning to her prisoner. Mortesen seethed as he was forced to wait.

“Why do you want to know?” Her voice had none of the boyishness from before. She sounded like a young lady, and one in full control of a situation.

“Because they're restraints for magic and you know it. They're only supposed to be kept in the castle dungeon and major prisons in the kingdom.”

“Then I suppose you don't know as much as you think. Some of the barons put them on their serfs, especially the ones who are particularly gifted in magic, and not because they committed any crimes.”

Mortesen stared at her, his Royal gift telling him the words were correct (at least that wasn't affected by the manacles). He thrust aside the discomfort this information caused him.

“You cheated. Whatever that powder was, it wasn't very honorable in combat.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Who used their Element first?”

He looked down, cheeks burning. “I got carried away. You shouldn't have said those things about my father.”

“Even if they're true?” she demanded.

“They're not.”

“How do you know he's a fair ruler? Your respect for him is admirable, but you don't know anything about the lives of most of your people, Prince Mortesen.”

“Why should I? I'm not a commoner.”

The female hedgehog ignored him and stood up, selecting a bunched cluster of dried flowers from the ceiling and carrying them over to the table. She took a mortar and pestle from the crate and set it down, beginning to grind with a purposeful air. He yanked at the chain in irritation. It was fastened securely to a ring set in the stone fireplace.

“You have a real name, don't you?”

“Thia,” she answered shortly, still focusing more on her task than him.

“It doesn't suit you,” he said after a moment, eyes glinting. “I think 'Athena' would be more appropriate.”

She froze, her back toward him so that he couldn't see her expression. “How do you know me?”

“I was invited to the ball your parents threw for you last year. It's kind of hard to forget what happened.” He couldn't keep the grin back. “I overheard you threaten bodily harm to Prince Steffan if he touched your derrière again while you were dancing with him, but I guess he didn't believe you until you crushed his wrist and broke all his fingers. Watching you march him over to the balcony doors and dump him into the moat was quite possibly the best entertainment I had all year.”

He could see the ghost of a smile playing along the edge of her mouth, but she sternly refused to let it out completely.

“My younger brother spent three times as long with you as I did, so I'm not surprised you don't remember I was there. I was confused at the time why your mother arranged for all the firstborn princes who attended to spend so little time with you. Now it makes sense.”

Athena spun on him, crimson eyes on fire. “And what exactly do you mean by that?

Mortesen shrugged. “If you were trying to secure your parents' throne you wouldn't be able to marry a firstborn, otherwise you'd have to go live at his kingdom. So I was invited out of politeness even though the real purpose was to look for a suitable match with a younger son. But the fact that you received a ball and your twin brother didn't raised too many questions. I think it was the month after I first saw you that the truth came out and your family was exiled.”

The pestle rested in her hand, a few broken petals clinging to its thick head, but Athena seemed to have forgotten all about it. “We did nothing wrong.”

“Except pretend there was a male heir when there wasn't. Your country's laws about the throne only going to a prince were very clear. I see why you're so skilled with the sword.” Mortesen threw a sneer at her. “How long did you pretend to be Prince Justus? Did he ever really exist?”

Silence filled the cottage.

She finally spoke, voice almost deadly. “You have not earned the right to ask those questions. Enjoy your stay with me. I suspect it will be a long one.”



Mortesen ran his tongue over his lips but it hardly wet them. Athena had been gone for over an hour and he was practically dying of thirst. There was a bucket of water against the far wall, but he couldn't reach it since he was on a leash.

At last she returned, swinging a heavy burlap sack onto the table and sifting through it. Potatoes, beets, carrots and several other vegetables tumbled out, mostly covered in dirt as though they'd just been pulled.

“Where did you get all that?”

“Baron Reno. I made sure his men saw me when I left so that none of his serfs will be punished instead.”

She placed three potatoes on a shelf then started dividing the rest into piles. Once Athena was satisfied, she placed each pile into baskets by the door.

“You stole that food,” he accused. “What are you planning to do?”

She directed a look of amusement his way. “Oh, you'll see how 'horrible' of a plan I have in just a little while.”

He watched her take a simple peasant dress off a peg and slip it on, hiding the manly outfit beneath. The blue hedgehog fumbled with the laces a bit, then went over to the water bucket. Mortesen's throat cried out for relief.

“Are you at least going to share some of that? I haven't had anything to drink since before you brought me to this 'sweet' little hovel.”

She glanced back. “Oh? And what did you do to earn it? All the field workers on Baron Reno's land get only one bucket a day each, and only if their wives bring it to them—if they are not employed elsewhere. Some of them go all day with barely a cupful. You'll be fine until tomorrow.”

The idea of not having a drink until the following day while watching her slurp from a dipper nearly drove him crazy, but he retained his dignity and said nothing. She filled a cup and sat down at the table again. Once more Athena began to write. He had nothing better to do, so he had no reason not to ask about it.

“What is that?”

“Another grievance to your father. So far he hasn't responded to any of my letters. I'm not surprised, but it's worth the effort all the same.”

The prince's head tilted to one side. “He never mentioned any letters.”

“Why should he? I doubt he believes them, but he doesn't care enough to find out the truth. What does that say for your father's priorities?” There was a trilling whistle and she stood up with a smile. “Ah! Right on time.”

Mortesen saw her go to the open door and wave, then half a minute later a group of five children came bounding inside. They pulled up short when they saw the prisoner. He was surprised to see how skinny they were compared to the children he saw at home.

“Miss Thia,” a jackrabbit started nervously, “who's that?”

“Oh, just someone from the castle. Karok caught him this morning and I'm watching him for a little while,” she said, shrugging as if he wasn't important enough to pay any attention to.

For the first time Mortesen realized his crown was missing. And since he didn't leave the castle often, of course he wouldn't be recognized. He didn't want to admit he was the prince because this particular situation was more than a bit humiliating. It was still annoying to be treated like just anyone, though.

“Here,” the blue hedgehog said, handing a basket to each of them. “That should be enough for a few days. Karok also got these from someone who didn't need them. They'll make good breeches or dresses.”

The children's eyes lit up with excitement as she pulled several long cloaks from the pegs on the wall. Once they had all run away, Athena sat back down with a more contented attitude. Mortesen glared at her contemptuously.

“Stealing food and clothing for brats, huh? How noble.”

She turned her head toward him, the smile fading away. “Their fathers are either dead or in prison. There is no one else to provide for their families since the duke doesn't allow women without a man in the house to receive a wage even though they still work for the barons. What alternative do they have? Starve?

Mortesen's expression didn't change. “It's still stealing.”

“Fine. I'd like to see how long your pride and honor will keep your belly full,” she snorted, turning her back on him.



Two hours later while Athena was gone on another “errand”, Mortesen stretched his hands toward the table desperately, the manacles beginning to chafe cuts into his flesh. His mouth felt drier than desert sand. The cup sat there all alone, filled nearly to the brim—and he couldn't reach it!

A new tactic finally occurring to him, he laid down on the floor and stretched as far as he could with his feet. The toe of one boot managed to hook around the table's nearest leg. Carefully the hedgehog pulled it toward him, and after a minute it was close enough to reach with his hands.

Never had water tasted so fresh! He sipped slowly, savoring every drop.

After he had drunk, his eyes fell on the letter Athena had been composing. Curiosity got the better of him and he picked it up.

King Negolas,
The oversight of every town by a baron was originally established for the mutual benefit of nobles and peasants. A baron provided homes, equipment and wages while the peasants did work. The current system no longer operates this way. The barons restrict everything from clothing and fuel to food and water. Anyone who attempts so much as to grow his own garden is punished. The peasants are kept in a constant state of dependency, further preyed upon by their barons who treat them as little more than slaves. Even the suggestion that a family might wish to leave can result in imprisonment and forced labor. Desperation is a way of life for your people. All the uprisings—


“What are you doing?”

Mortesen jumped and her letter fell from his hands. Athena stood in the doorway carrying two baskets of late, rust-speckled pears. He didn't answer and she looked at the drag-marks on the dirt floor.

“I think a punishment is in order,” she said lightly. The blue hedgehog set down her baskets and picked up a thin, whiplike stick leaning against the wall.

Mortesen stared, not quite believing his ears. “What?

“I know I left a full cup of water right there. I didn't give you permission to drink it.”

“You can't be serious.” The black hedgehog straightened his shoulders, trying to appear less a prisoner and more a prince. “I was parched. You hadn't given me any water all day. I had every right to take it!”

“It's still stealing,” she said, mocking his earlier words.

She came toward him and he backed away without meaning to, intimidated by the unreasonableness in her eyes. His ears flattened and he flinched as the stick whistled through the air toward him—then stopped.

“Even you understand the injustice, don't you?”

He looked up, embarrassed that he had actually cringed in front of her, and now growing angry. “Oh, I see. This whole thing was a trick.”

“Only to show you the reality of what you so callously refer to as 'stealing'. If someone is thrust into a situation in which they have to choose between starvation and thievery, should they be punished for trying to survive the only way they can?”

“You tricked me,” he insisted, resolving not to think more about the matter.

“You needed to feel that desperation for yourself. I only take food from those who have plenty and I only give it to the neediest ones I can find. Sometimes I'm too late.” She paused, sadness weighing down her shoulders. “Last week I dug eight graves in one of the mining districts, mostly for elders...but also two for children. They were starving and overworked to the point of death. And meanwhile you sit in your castle complaining this or that dish isn't just right.”

“I'm no pansy,” Mortesen growled.

“But you've never been truly hungry in your life.”

“I'm sick of you barking at me!” he shouted. “If all you did was bring me here to 'teach me a lesson' then consider your experiment a failure. I refuse to be a fool who swallows every word you say. I demand you release me!”

“Go ahead and demand all you like, Prince Mortesen,” Athena said, turning to the table and picking up the loose papers there. “The only one who will decide when you go home—if you go home—is me.”

Fury boiled inside Mortesen's chest. Hardly realizing what he was doing until it was done, he looped the chain between his manacles over her head. The links pressed into her neck and he tightened them, snarling, “Let me go!

She had stiffened, but he could tell she was more upset than frightened. “You're very good at getting into trouble, aren't you? This is the only warning I'm giving you. Take this chain off me now.”

“Not until you promise to take the chain off me immediately.”

“Then I suppose we're at an impasse. Oh, wait...” Her hands snapped back and seized his wrists in a grip of iron. “No, we're not.”

Mortesen grunted as she squeezed slowly, like a vice. He tried to pull tighter on the chain, but the muscles in his wrists screamed until he felt something pop in the left one. The black hedgehog gasped in acute pain and the next thing he knew, Athena had thrown him to the ground. As his head hit the dirt, he blacked out for a few seconds, coming back to his senses in a daze and finding himself pinned down beneath her knee.

“If you had just stopped, I wouldn't have done that,” she said with slight regret in her tone. “My Royal gift is that I was born with two hearts. They give me strength, stamina, speed...and I suspect quite a temper too. Don't underestimate me.”

“Oh, I won't, Princess,” he growled, holding his left hand awkwardly.

That was the wrong thing to say.

Athena grabbed him by the tunic and dragged him up, shouting into his face, “Princess? Princess of what? A country that threw me and my parents out and then destroyed itself by picking a fight with its strongest neighbor?! Most of my people are slaves, scattered or sold, and the land itself was taken over by strangers who never set foot on it until they conquered. Marcuria's history, customs, music...her beauty...it's all gone. My country is dead.”

She threw him down and stalked over to the table, returning to the mortar and pestle. Mortesen couldn't be certain if he'd really seen a tear on her face or if it was just his imagination. With furious motions she crushed the remains of the flowers she'd been grinding earlier, then slammed the pestle down and poured a little of the powder into her hand.

“You are too much of a pain to keep around.”

Two long steps and she was close enough to throw the powder into his face. Mortesen tried to jerk back, but he hadn't realized what it was right away and accidentally inhaled it again. Seconds later his eyes drooped shut.
Anthropomorphic critters in a medieval setting along with magic and royalty. Can't go wrong! This is based on a mini-fandom about the family of Sonic the Hedgehog (in this case Athena and Mortesen are his grandparents). I'd like to thank LiyuConberma for giving me permission to write this. Everything has been fact-checked by her beforehand, so it can be considered an accurate history of their relationship before they got married.

Oh, and guys, this is why you should never, ever grab a princess's butt. She will either break your hand or have someone chop it off.

Here's a little extra info to clear up a couple things that might be somewhat confusing.

Mystical - An intelligent animal that can form an attachment to a magic-user, almost like a “familiar” but distance doesn't affect the bond and the two can go years without seeing one another. They can be ordinary animals as well as mythical ones, but a ritual called a "Bonding Contract" is required and it must be fully voluntary on both sides.

Royal Gift - An innate talent or physical feature that members of a Royal family inherit.


Chapter 1: Poverty Isn't a Choice (already here!)
Chapter 2: Politics Can Be Deadly
Chapter 3: Those Related to Royalty
Chapter 4: The Pain of Truth
Chapter 5: Prepare for Unforeseen Consequences
Chapter 6: The Vigilante’s Plight
Chapter 7: Traitor’s Hand
Chapter 8: Turning of Hearts

If you'd like to see Athena and Flora in all their heroic glory, go here: fav.me/d9mf48c
© 2015 - 2024 JanikaCheetah
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Huh interesting story! I'm looking forward to read more of it!


Question tho, if you don't mind, how strong is Athena? I once read that she has Herculean power, Let's just say, she could easily pick up a heavy table or cabinet with just one hand? Or let's say a pillar with her arms?