Tales of Trevast: The Harvest Festival

[Jason Vaiken]

Ed's lip curled into a snarl as he stood up to confront Hial. He knew Ollis would have his back in a heart-beat since their minds tend to be on the same page. Before Hial could get out he soon found himself facing the two giant northmen, cold fury in their eyes and predatory grins on their faces.

"Boy, I don't think you meant that apology, you do understand how bad this is correct? You brought armed guards into a meeting with the King and had the nerve to have that glint in your eye. Are you that foolish? Are you that dumb? I have seen Barrans with better sense then you when they've gone battle-mad. Now this is what is going to happen. You are going to turn around, kneel before the King and kiss his ring. Or I'll take you out to the field and teach you a lesson by thrashing you in front of everyone and I'm sure Lord Barran here will beat you senseless after me."

This was given in a menacing tone, one that belied a cold righteous fury.

He then turns around to the Druids.

"And you lot, you're going to leave. Right. Now. I know you were just following orders, orders giving to you by someone who seems to think he's the gods gift to spymasters."

@+SpaceJesus+

 

[Elijah Brockway]

Ollis had stood up just like Vaiken, slightly more slowly and less jerkily...but with no less deliberate a movement. A few short steps put him in front of the door, hand on the pommel of his dirk, sheathed at his belt. He had taken off his claymore and set it to the side, but he never went completely unarmed. Similarly to the bearish smile that Vaiken fixed on Hiral, as the other Northern lord spoke, Ollis gave a wolfish grin to the druids and to Hiral both, though the expression quickly dropped, being replaced by one of stone.

"I am in agreement with the Lord Vaiken," he declared after a moment, his quiet voice nonetheless reverberating through the room, like the deep whisper of a river's currents...prior to a coming flood. "We pay close attention to everybody and everything. If you lived in a land as harsh as we do, and dealt with clansmen like we do, you'd be the same...and regardless of whatever honeyed words you tried to hide it with, the insult you've delivered will not and can not be ignored." He faced his glare fully back on Hiral.

"Turn and kneel. And pray that Adric is more forgiving than some of his forebears. Lord Thrudgast, I recommend you don't intervene. Warriors..." He took a step towards Hiral, keeping the man completely blocked from leaving but opening the path for the Druids to leave, and trusting on Edward to watch his back. "You're free to leave. I trust you will make the wise decision here."

 

[Tristar]

Egon sank deep into his chair, a hand grasping a goblet of Summerset wine that had been offered to him by a tray-wielding servant. As the proceeding unveiled before him, he kept his eyes on the scrupulous lords that had brought the ire of the northern lords. First the smuggling of five hundred armed guards into the capital by a neighbouring lord and now a pair way over their heads enter the presence of their liege with an armed contingent: indeed, this was a harvest festival that set itself to be an exciting event. A soft tap on his shoulder took his attention as a harried looking page handed him a small scroll sealed by wax. Raising an eyebrow, he accepted the package and dismissed the courier with a brief wave of his hand- he would read the message in private far from prying eyes; his eyes briefly swept to the two angered lords involuntarily as the thought passed in his mind. From the few seconds it had taken for him to address the page the situation turned from interesting to downright embarrassing as Lord Elric's wife, Lady Elenna gave the entire room a piece of her mind- she shared a familiar air to his wife, though showed more mass to her figure.

Clearing his throat as he stood up, he turned to address the room in a calm but well accented voice. "Lords Thrudgast," he called out to the leaving figures. "You must forgive the harsh words from these lords: their homes are unforgiving as their foes- be it drink or northmen. It is hard to appease everyone from all corners of the kingdom, though we are all united in that we serve our king loyally, hrmm?" Hiral had thought himself subtle, but Egon had learned to pay close attention to the many faces people showed in the courtrooms. Their way of words also placed a hint of doubt in the river lord, but he would rather not entertain the possible meaning behind the brief hesitation.

"I'd also like to apologize for Lady Elenna's words; harsh as they were, she is nonetheless right. Treating allies like naughty children is not how you seal the bond with a binding solvent, rather it is the act of pouring hot water on fresh adhesive. Now if you will excuse my, lords and ladies, I have to be away for a brief moment." Nodding in their general directions, he made his way out of the hall, but stopped right before the exit, almost shoulder to shoulder with Hiral. "Of course, that doesn't mean the offender shouldn't apologize for his actions- or words." he said to no one in general. Smirking at the Thrudgast noble, Egon gave him a curt dip of his head before parting ways. He walked in large strides, clutching the scroll in his fist without a word to any of the nobles who were familiar with him, hoping to lure him into a long winded conversation- usually the topic of opening trade barriers was hidden behind a thin veil of small talk, which Egon hated, as well versed as he was in it. He looked around at where he was: an empty section of the castle, the hallways deserted save for the gaudy tapestry that adorned the walls. Biting his lip, he quickly broke Radolf's seal from the letter and unfurled the parchment, quickly reading its contents. His jaw slackened briefly before he squinted and reread the contents.

A minute passed as his eyes hung over the same word over and over: "-. . . .in custody. . .-" Now how did he manage that? Egon shook his head and rolled the scroll up. Radolf had pulled his house into something akin to a muddy pit with a pig. The northern air had permeated his stoic nature at one point, something that he still never really had managed to forgive Lord Edward for. Seeking a fight wasn't the Eulean way- at least, not since Frederick the Great: Radolf's actions, justified as they were, could potentially break the king's peace and with it, earn themselves a very bad reputation with the king. A smile crept up to his face: As though we had a great love for them in the beginning. Still, relations were beginning to improve and with it, the added bonus of more lenient trade restrictions. If it remained that way, it would be extremely beneficial for both houses. If the Rendalls would force them to ring Old Golt, he could potentially get the favour of the king- but that would take a lot of persuasion; but if Radolf was to have his reasons for instigating a war explained to the northern lords, he was fairly sure the Vaikens (and maybe even the Barrans) would support this momentary break of the king's peace; sometimes it was good to have additional father figures.

He looked up from his walk and saw that he had somehow made his way back to the entrance of the hall where many of the lords had begun to gather. He saw that his seat had been taken by another lord, no less fancy than the rest of the nobility. Egon patted his pockets, wanting no more than to retire to his room and to quickly send a letter back home; Radolf for all of his reliability and trustworthiness still needed guidance on the matters of the court- the northern influence made it a difficult process to make him understand how the riverlords think and act.

Sometimes the north can be both a blessing and a pain where the sun doesn't shine. Dusting his pants, he straightened his back, slapped on the most apologetic smile he could muster and walked right into the lion's den and with him, a piece of meat that could spell death, or future prospects with the crown.

_________________________________________________________
​

Wilgott watched his new young lord don a suit of armor in the dressing room, standing guard by the door with a hand on the pommel of his sword- how he had entered the personal service of the family was beyond his imagination: he hadn't even managed to say his goodbyes to his ziegmann since Lady Catarina's maidens had already picked up his supplies earlier and placed it in his new (but temporary) accommodation. It was quite literally next door to Harmann's room, and even featured a door between the two of them- he made note to never lock it just so that he could easily rush in in the event of troubles. Playing bodyguard, in the eyes of the schwarzmann was a dull and boring affair of following his VIP around and looking as menacingly as possible to anybody who so much as gave his posse a glance- rather, he was taken aback slightly when his lord made a request to have a chance to duel with the common ground champions. Not a problem, although he had reservations for mocking a battle between him and Harmann.

The chance of hurting the youngest son of Lord Egon Eule the Second was a terrifying probability.

As Harmann chattered away he watched the young man carefully, how he moved in his suit of armor and how well accustomed he was to the overall weight of it. Insofar, Wilgott saw no signs of discomfort or awkward shifting of weight that was so very common in first time users of plate. Harmann walked out of the room, still chattering away about his life and how he and Wilgott would become inseparable from this day onwards. Lord of the Moon, he moaned within his mind, does the young lord ever shut up? "Look Ser Wilgott! It's the king's son and the daughter of Edward Vaiken- I hear they are of the same age, and that the families are looking for potential candidates for marriage! An exciting affair, don't you think?"

"Very, in fact it's so exciting I could hardly contain my excitement."

"Oh come on good knight, no need to say it like that: if you've no interest in relationships you can come out to me, I'll not judge you. Well, my mother might."

"My lo-"

"Call me Harmann, we should begin on our exposure to first name basis from this point onwards."

"-. . Well. Harmann. It's not that I've no interest in the field of committing one's self to a binding covenant to another person - heavens knows I've already done it with the gods upon the moon - but rather it is the political mess which disinterests me so. I am a swordsman, a schwarzmann of the Monde." he said, reciting off the lecture his ziegmann always gave out whenever she was accused of mischief by her ziegmann. "To see the next battle for the glory of the ivory sun is mine deepest wish, and to spill blood to reaffirm my faith is my first priority. All others come after that, for the darkness is always before the light."

Harmann looked at his new knight with newfound respect in his eyes and Wilgott responded in kind with a look of sarcasm- apparently lost on his lord, Harmann smiled brilliantly and tossed his head back in laughter. "Oh very good Will! I've never heard that one before!" But I have, a thousand times whenever the ziegmann returns to the barracks at 10 in the morning inebriated, he responded back in his mind. Lady Catarina had set him a rather difficult task, if his job was to guide him to the path of shrewdness and cynicism. Sadly for him, failure was not an option or a valid excuse in the household. "Well then, if that is what you wish for, let us be at it!"

The swordsman barely had a moment to flip his visor down before Harmann swung his axe wildly at him- blunted edge or not, an unprotected hit would set him out of commission for a while. Backpedaling back to the railing of the dueling ring closest to the gathering of the children of the nobles, he quickly pushed himself back forward and raised his flamberge just in time to catch the blade of the next attack. He struggled to regain his posture, sometimes outright disengaging from the fight to get a stable footing, but Harmann simply wouldn't let him. Though he lacked the finesse of his brothers-in-arms, Harmann fought with something to a degree of skill and the savagery he knew very well originated from the north; however there was something different about it- the 'so called' savage swings didn't look authentic. Instead it looked as if he had only heard of their infamous style from a witness and had envisioned it in his mind without a basis to work on. Too many openings and his shield was neglected. The moment Wilgott regained a semblance of stability in his footing he immediately struck out with his pommel and caught Harmann in the chest with a loud dunk! followed by a sharp yell of pain.

Now it was time for Harmann to fall on the defensive as the swordsman punished him over and over for failing to keep his guard up- first a glance from the forearm, the occasional rough tap on the pauldrons then a good solid whack! on the side of his helm with his crossguard as Wilgott held his weapon by the blade. He watched as the young man staggered backwards before falling to his knees and threw off his helmet, grunting in pain. "Aargh. . ." Wilgott sniffed. The entire fight didn't even last a quarter of the time of his usual duels. Harmann still had much to learn when it came to parrying and anticipating blows before focusing on more offensive measures. He wondered who or what influenced his decision to try and fight like a northman. . .

"It was a good fig-"

"Ack, my head's ringing- spare me the courtesy, it wasn't a good fight, even I can tell that." Wilgott smirked a little at his lord's snarkiness. Shaking his head, he stuck the blade into the dirt and pulled his lord to his feet. "Well no- who taught you to fight like that?"

"My brother, Radolf." The smile froze in Wil's face, but Harmann was too disturbed by the dull echo of bells in his ears. Radolf? The young wolf? That would certainly explain it then- come to think of it, Lady Catarina had mentioned something about looking up to his elder brother. There was no finer fighter in Euleð than Radolf Eule, the next in line to take the mantle of responsibility- he had strength, guile and dexterity in equal but ridiculously large measures and fought with in a hybrid style that combined the aspects of the Master Lumð Elðdi and Master Hirulf Greybarran: anyone with adoration and respect for him would have sought to imitate the deft cuts and sudden feints but mastering it- ho! Wilgott shook his head as he patted the dust of his young lord, that would require tutelage from the founder himself.

He bent down to pick up the discarded helmet, noticing the northern daughter pass a jibe to the prince and chuckled to himself. Offering the helmet to Harmann who looked at it incredulously, Wilgott mentally braced himself for another brutal advance. "Hrmf. Come on then, m'lord." He cajoled, making a mental hint to look into Harmann's training further when he had a chance. "We've a bit of the day to ourselves before we have to head to the dining hall, that's more than enough to send you to the ground on your arse ten times more."

Harmann smiled and swiped the helmet from his hands and replied with his usual boyish gutso: "Or maybe it'll be me who does it- to you!"

"Hah! The day that happens, hell would have frozen over. Enguard!"

______________________________________________________________________________
​

The scent of willowbark soothed his troubled mine as he floated through a meadow of sweet smelling flowers, the lush greenery expanding from miles beyond end; he basked in the warm sun, reveling in the heat of life without a sing-

*Thunk thunk thunk*

His eyelids snapped open, the vision of tranquility and peace evaporated into the dull, blanch grayness of reality. He looked down at his cup of tea, to behold that it had started to turn cold. Rough fingers pinched the handle of the tea cup before raising it to his lips. The taste was the bittersweet of tea, and the faint hint of daffodils. Really, it was disgusting but the maester said it helped to alleviate stress, and so Radolf obediently drank it all in one sitting.

The knocking persisted.

He set the tea cup gently on the desk and called for the visitor to enter, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. Captain Virdano entered, clutching his beret in one hand and a letter in another. "M'lord, a reply." Radolf raised an eyebrow and beckoned for the man to come closer. He took the scroll from him and broke the seal, taking note of the small m under the eye of the owl in the crest; the letter had a few brief instructions regarding the treatment of their new 'guest'. What interested the lord the most however, was the last few sentences of the letter:

"Your father is in the audience of the king and has received your letter to him as well; if all goes well, this will be waved off by the royalty or better yet, be given compensation for our sullied honor while the Lord of Pigs will face a meeting with the king."
​

Radolf scrunched up his face and breathed deeply; he didn't want Lord Rendall to face the king simply out of 'first come, first serve' basis. Didn't Reyd get the king to sign a decree that their house had full independence on matters of domestic politics when it came to the Triple Entente? They were deferring too much to the king in his opinion, even if they were sworn to the crown. "My lord?" He looked up at the source of the voice, the captain who looked disturbed.

"Yes?"

"Well. . .it's Lady Miranna. She refuses to eat and drink while they remain in captivity, she says. She hasn't touched anything. What should we do?" Radolf looked at the previous sentence and nearly smirked openly:

"Ensure that the Rendallians are in good condition: feed them well, from your own plate if you have to. It would not do well for our image if they appear thin and scrawny when released."
​

He read the sentence out loud to the captain, who cocked his head sideways with a look of confusion. "Sir?" he queried as though he had spoken in a different language. Radolf had to constantly remind himself that the garrison guards were not part of their military and therefore had a slight degree of independence- necessary, especially when the actions of one man could stop a potential assassination. It also however meant that they were more susceptible to questioning the orders of their superiors; relationships therefore were extremely important in maintaining security of the household. "My mother's orders are clear, captain. If the lady refuses to eat, then have two maidens from the shrine. . .persuade her to eat."

"Persuade? You mean-"

"It is not torture, captain. We are merely looking to ensure that our 'honoured guests are well fed before they are presented to the king when they face summons. I am sure Lord Rendall has no qualms about food, but if the wife disagrees, then we must do something about it." he explained, rolling up the letter before getting up to his feet and walked over to the fireplace, where he threw the letter into the dancing flames. He always kept the fire alive even in the mornings; the chill of the north never really left his bones, and it also forced people to disrobe their cloaks in front of him, revealing any hidden items in their possessions. "Believe me, Virdano," he emphasized on the proper enunciation of his name, trying to bring the captain closer to him.

"We would not be given the same luxury if we were in their same positions. Let us not stoop to their level; have them fed by nightfall, or pray that my mother does not order harsher methods."

"Yes m'lord."

"And Captain?"

"Yes sir?"

"Send my regards to Lord Harold, and my deepest apologies if we don't serve as big as portions as they feed to their pig. In those exact words, captain, it is extremely imperative."

"But. . they've naught a single pig in their hous- oh."

"I do not know why you appear to have had a revelation then and there, Virdano, as though I had meant something else. You are dismissed."

 

[Fyremage]

Desirak's brow arched, while simultaneously biting his lip. Miranda seemed to be, in ever definition of the expression, quite 'spirited.' Normal princes would probably be embarrassed by the sudden 'calling out' of a young lady, but not Desirak. Gregor on the other hand spat his mouthful of water into the open air behind them, within earshot of the exchange. The young prince cocked his head back and shot Gregor a curious glance before returning his gaze back to Miranda. He noted her wry smile, and returned with one of his own:"My apologies, Lady Vaiken." He began, a slight tone of insincerity in his voice as he said it. Thereafter, he continued: "Well, as you can see I enjoy training when I can. It seems I still have some improvement to make, but I like to think I emulate the trait most Baynes seem to hold, namely to learn from my mistakes and get better and stronger for it."

His tone was conversational, and didn't have the same flirtatious air he had a moment ago. The request she made, namely to learn more about him, was a wise one, even in his young mind. He would indulge her a bit more before inquiring about her: "And believe it or not, I have acquired a fondness for... Reading. Mainly historical works. Father tends to insist that if we don't learn about our past, we are doomed to repeat it in the future. What about you?"

The prince awaited the scrutiny he would no doubt be put under. He was used to it, and while Miranda seemed to be of the sort he could get along quite well with, he had only just met her after all. It was then he noted the approach of a handful of others, namely the Thrudgasts and Silverhawks. He extended the guests a simple nod as he awaited Miranda's reply.

_______________________

Adric sat in his seat, quiet as the stones that lined the room they sat in. He listened to the words spoken by each lord and lady in turn. 'Business as usual.' The King thought to himself. After what seemed an eternity of waiting, he rose from his throne and took a few steps closer to the scene developing before him, keeping in mind to allow one or two of his guards to stand between him and the Thrudgasts. His pale blue eyes stared ceaselessly at the group, and in due time he broke the silence. His voice was low, but no less commanding: "I find it distasteful for this festival to start off on such a sour note. I'm sure this was all one major misunderstanding..." He strode over to the Lord Vaiken, placing a reassuring hand upon his shoulder before proceeding. "Being from a different land with differing customs, and being a new addition to the realm can be the cause of this confusion. In the interests of clearing this up, and us all settling down so we may fall within the spirit of the occasion, as lady Silverhawk has reminded us, Ibelieve the suggestion made by Lords Vaiken and Barran is very appropriate."

Turning to Hiral, the King finished:

"Why not pay respects to your King? I can forgive this breach in hospitality, as it is obviously a misunderstanding by loyal men such as yourselves. And I am more than willing to extend such a courtesy as mercy and forgiveness to such men. You are... Such a man... Yes, Lord Hiral?"

Adric was well aware of what the likely cause of this hostility was. His father, although widely considered by be a decent King - note, not a good king. But a decent one - it was expected that the people under the rule of the Thrudgasts, if not the family themselves would be a bit off put by the sudden subjugation under a high king. But Adric was not his father. He was not as cold as his father, but he was calculating, resolute, cunning, and more importantly: he was the King. It was important that such lords who had a problem remembering that stood to keep that in their mind.

 

[Pureblood-Sin]

Very much disinterested in the small tiff between the lords, Athelrasi had much more important things to do here than involve himself in such matters; indeed, he found such things tedious at best. So what if a man brought armed guards? Came his rather piratical thoughts. the Ohminjokuul thought such a deed was rather pragmatic considering such gatherings have been used as the perfect means of disposing of rivals and lords who've become less than desirable in the host's eyes. Listening to the king speak, and waiting for his words to finish, Athelrasi decided now would be a time to chime in after sending his wife to order his outside retainers to bring in the overall surplus earnings from the raid. Taking the knee, alongside his son and daughter, he would begin to speak.

"Lord of lords, king of kings...allow my due offerings to help sweeten the gathering. The raids have been good this year, better than how they normally are...one would think that the Boteri are leaving them out for us to take them."

Indeed, it would seem that the Empire's old enemies had been undergoing a form of economic revival. This seemed rather suspicious to the Ohminjokuul, economic development can easily lead to many things...not all of them desirable. Of course, Athelrasi would reveal his suspicions after the end of the festivities. In the meantime though, the Prince's wife would walk in with his sworn swords, each of them holding great amounts of shimmering gold and glittering jewellery taken from the raids. The sworn swords would place these offerings on the floor, leaving them in a pile. Whilst this was repeatedly done, a smile came to Athelrasi's face.

"What does my lord think? Is it not good of my House to...convince the Boteri to kindly part with their treasures."

 

[Cainhurst Crow]

"...Trade has gone well, on the bright side." Lorian Wolnier spoke, having been silent throughout most of the exchanges, feeling no need to involve his house in the scuffles and drama of those to the north of his lands. They were a people who kept to themselves, and liked it when others kept to their own affairs as well. Long gone had the ancient people who once tried to conquer the land; replaced instead by a people who looked out for their own, and stubbornly survived in the desert that served as their peoples final safe haven for many years.

Orys eyed the silverhawks, as well as the Thrudgast wearily, his two swords, about the size of short swords themselves, on his person as he sat. He'd needed to angle them to just the right place, but it let him sit in modest comfort, the riding of his belt something he was used to by now. His hand lay on his silver mask, which lay attached to his belt. A wolnier warrior should never show their face in combat, that was a tradition that held fast even to this day. And if tensions continued to rise, Orys would protect his brother, and would protect the king, for almost every wolnier knew the debt they owed the throne, for allowing their house to live and to thrive.

"The boteri raids upon our ships have increased, but not by measures that we cannot repel. And the goods are traded away almost as soon as we arrive. It seems even with Lord Ohminjokuul's enthusiasm, the demand for herbs and barley outweigh the loss of coin for those in the east..." Lorian said with a calm and collected demeanor, enjoying a bit of boasting for how good a year it had been, thus far. "It has been a fine year of wealth raised for the kingdom. I would follow our tradition of thanking King Adric for continuing the accord that let's us conduct our trade, and wish for the Bayne's to long reign as kings...but it appears there is another, whom owes our king some due respect, first." Lorian said, his voice growing cold as he looked towards Hiral's direction, still not raising from his seat.

 

[+SpaceJesus+]

@The Star of Chaos

Hiral looked up at the towering Northmen with a look of boredom most unsuitable for the situation he found himself in. Funny. He had thought for a moment that he would be able to get out on his own. That seemed to be a bit of wishful thinking at this point. On to the next move, he supposed.

"The men were just leaving." He cooed, motioning them out. "No need to berate them friends."

"Or to be so rash." Tiagon was stern as he glared over at the men threatening Hiral. Trying to bully him into submission was the exact opposite of the way to deal with Hiral. It would only spur him on even more, that much he knew. And as much of a nuisance Hiral was, he was still his brother, and still a Thrudgast. He had a duty to defend him. Besides, his audacity at this point bordered Hirals own, perhaps even more. "He speaks out of turn, but it is not your place to threaten a member of my family, regardless. Trying to punch a problem to death is not a recommendation in a royal court."

"Oh it is quite alright, Tiagon." Hiral chuckled. He would not be intimidated by these men. Not here.

@Elijah Brockway
"We pay close attention to everybody and everything. If you lived in a land as harsh as we do, and dealt with clansmen like we do, you'd be the same...and regardless of whatever honeyed words you tried to hide it with, the insult you've delivered will not and can not be ignored. Turn and kneel. And pray that Adric is more forgiving than some of his forebears."

Hiral smiled dryly. How typical. "Yes, I will pray that."

"Lord Thrudgast, I recommend you don't intervene. "

"That is entirely up to them, Barran." Tiagon asserted. "Entirely."

@Necris
"Will you boys stop comparing who has the bigger set of balls and sit down we are here to discuss matters of state not who implied what to whom, or who can insult who in the most subtle if ways."

Hiral stifled a laugh at her words, rather unsuccessfully. The outburst itself was enough to make everything that had transpired seem extremely trivial. He liked this woman, he decided. It took confidence to stand up like that in the midst of these men. Not like the quiet weakness of some of the helpless little flowers these mainlanders seemed to raise in their households by the dozen. More like a Thrudgast, or at least not like them. He couldn't tell which description would be better, being like his family or not being like these people. Either was an improvement in his book.

@fyremage

At least the king seemed to be mildly reasonable. Honestly, this whole situation was a bit to overextended for his liking. He couldn't even get away with a sideways comment. What kind of policy was that? It was like their skin was made of wet paper. He glanced over at Tiagon. He looked straight into his brothers eyes with anger and conviction, sending a clear message. Do it or so help me I will string you up myself.

"I would of course honor your house, my liege, and the respect it holds. As I said, it is only appropriate." He knelt down, strangely eager, and complied with kissing the Kings ring. It was only an empty gesture. It wasn't like he was selling his soul or something. If he was asked to kneel, he'd do it. He then rose to his feet, and smiled with a warmth towards Adric. "Now then, your majesty, I believe the court has much to attend to."

 

[Fyremage]

And so the Lord Hiral knelt, kissing the King's ring in short order. Perhaps now the mood would lighten, at least to the hope of King Adric as the druids left, escorted by Bayne Guards, with some of the guards returning to their station within the room; standing as still as statues in the corners.

. It was then that Lord Ominjokuul knelt and payed his honor to the king, with chests of spoils being dumped in the King's study. Adric would protest, but by the time he was going to the chests were already being dumped onto the floor. He stared at the gold as it poured forth, and when he was about to address the generous lord, Edric Silverhawk rose up and protested vehemently at the whole affair.

And so he too made his exit. It was not often that someone rushed out of an audience with the King without his leave to do so, as the diplomatic ramifications of doing so could be quite severe. When the lord made the statement that his wife would remain to discuss matters, it merely added insult to injury. While Adric was confident the Lady Silverhawk was more than qualified to represent her house, he was not in the habit of abiding angry outbursts.

It was then (finally) that Adric let out a soft sigh and addressed the Lord Ominjokuul, inviting him to rise: "Thank you for your tribute, My Lord. It is well received. And I would like to remind all of the Lords present that it is part of the way of life of those within Lover's Riposte, namely to raid and pillage. What if the crown dictated they couldn't do that? What if the crown also said the Vaikens must cease their logging industry, or the Silverhawks stop smithing silver? Though pillaging is not our mainstay of life, it is theirs. Who fails to remember when they raided our lands in bygone times? Is it not far better they raid and pillage our enemies over us? The Boteri took much from us, and the way I see it they are now paying it back in full..."

With a nod, Adric patted the Lord of Lover's Riposte on the shoulder and redirected his attention to lady Silverhawk, who handed him the parchment detailing the silver due for the royal mint. He nodded his approval, and with a warm smile replied to the noblewoman: "Thank you, Lady Silverhawk. The Crown always remembers the leal service performed by the Silverhawks. I hope you also convey this to your husband. I would very much like to speak with him this evening..."

It was then that he finally notice Lord Eule, who also handed him a piece of parchment. He read the contents carefully, his brow furrowing over the message within. Letting out a deep breath, he handed the pieces of parchment to his steward who stood by his side, and smiled before addressing the room as a whole.

"Before I forget, I believe Lord Vaiken had a matter of import he wished to speak to us all about. Please, my lord." With receptive ears, the King awaited Lord Edward's tidings.

@The Star of Chaos

 

[Jason Vaiken]

Edward stepped forward, reaching into his vest pocket and took out a report and handed it to Lord Eule first.

"Pass it around Egon, this is the casualty list for the past three months fighting. A normal casualty rate per month is around 200 men lost to sickness, combat, or invalidated due to some accident. As you can all see, we suffered 2,400 casualties. This is nearly unprecedented the only time we took this much was when the Baynes and their bannermen made a concerted push into our lands and we threw them back with great effort and loss, the woods for days rang out with the sounds of battle. In our history, we faced two massive invasions that threatened us truly, the Woliner invasion and the Bayne invasion. The Wolniers we defeated and the Baynes defeated us and we acknowledge them as our overlords." He takes a pause and seems to consider his next words very carefully.

"Yet, a new threat has emerged, an unprecedented threat to the north and one that if it grows could divert inordinate amounts of resources into containing the northern clans that are not allied to the House of Barran, the most ancient family in Trevast and weaken the watch on the Boteri hordes to our east. Simply put, the threat is this, a king has emerged, he has united the clans underneath his banner and instead of a tribal hierarchy who wish to they wage war with the purpose of conquest. He also has... we Northmen always told stories of the mythical giants, he has found them, he brought the legends back to life. Against my assembled host of 6,000 men, he brought approximately 80,000 men and 40 Giants. But he had a cunning I underestimated, he broke up his host into smaller manageable groups to be able to better feed them and march at a rapid pace. He formed 4 warbands of 20,000 from what my surviving scouts reported. I engaged the advanced warband and I of course had my scouts and listening posts established and we engaged in a successful skirmishing campaign, I divided them up and crushed these 20,000 men in detail but as we engaged the last remnant, we were beset on our flanks by another 8,000 men divided evenly on each flank. I ordered a fighting retreat but that was not the worst of it. The Giants arrived and smashed up my host. They were equipped with bronze armour but they used oak trees like clubs and tore my men apart. Only under accurate fire that pierced their eyes were we able to force a retreat and for 1 week me and my men were constantly pursued and engaging them in running battles until we reached the first line of defence where more of my men died in holding operations and denying them the use of our fortifications. The commanders of those fortifications were negligent and realised it and with a group of volunteers sacrificed themselves to buy us time to retreat to the second line of defence where my sons mustered our full might and we threw them back." He pauses a few moments and he looks like he aged 10 years at the end of this story.

"The situation as it stands now is that we can no longer patrol the hinterlands or range out of our fortifications, but neither can they breach them as it stands. They tried to send their giants but many were slain due to accurate arrow-fire. But this is what I must ask from all of you. I need a coalition from the houses, I do not ask for you to deplete your defences, I need a commitment from each house, however small that contribution may be to help me beat this false King and secure peace in Trevast."

He looks at King Aldric, "We Vaikens have never been the closest and devout followers of House Bayne, but we have done as we swore we would do once we bent our knees to you. We swore that we will guard your realm from northern invaders and in return you swore that should we call for aid, you will answer. I invoke that promise now and I hope that you, the other great houses of Trevast will stand alongside us as we did during the wars with the Boteri. That's all I have to say about this grim topic."

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Lady Miranda smiles as he said that he loves to read and she looks up at the sky for a second before responding to his question, "I prefer to hunt with my Lord father and older brothers, I'm well versed in needle-point, weaving, and those other womanly tasks, I'm as, my father once said, 'The best shot with a bow he's ever seen!' I also am a skilled rider and competent with a sword, in southron terms that means I'm more skilled then your usual man-at-arms but woefully short of a knight or veteran warrior. Oh and the normal family spiel, I have three older brothers who are off fighting a horde of angry angry clansmen a twin sister who is going to marry Lord Barrans' son and I'm already an aunt!"

She pauses and looks at him seriously and then announces, "So if you could be anyone from the past, who would you be and why?"

@fyremage

 

[Tristar]

Egon laughed: that was all he could manage as he leaned on the edge of a table, amused by the farce he saw before him. Respect? Honor? Of what did this westerland lord knew of those two things? Even as the riches of Ohminkjokuul's business poured before them, it was unlikely that Hiral's words amounted to a single measly coin. The Lord of Eule knew men and snakes in equal measure, having fought on two fronts of a war before- Tiagon kept Hiral for a brotherly purpose, but was slowly revealing himself to be a political liability. A man who couldn't keep his mouth shut when in front of the court of lords? Egon wasn't particularly interested in Hiral's character- his words were words of a lesser man who thought nothing more than his own pride and agendas, but it was amusing nonetheless to watch the northerners bark. For all Egon cared, if the Thrudgast wanted to see the crown fall they would have to do two things:

Cross the Mudd Bridge, and siege Heldrayth: The Eules would never let them cross unbloodied, and the Baynes had no want to see another Great Fire. Druids or not, in the end it fell to the composition, organizational level and speed of communication which won battles; individualistic strength of a soldier was nothing when he failed to prevent the army from achieving their primary directive. He sniffed, wiping a tear of thinly veiled derision as he calmed himself down as Edward passed a sheaf papers scrawled in the northern scribble. He listened to Edward's explanation, glancing at the numbers; the word Giant appeared numerous times. When he saw Lord Vaiken's seal on the bottom of the report, Egon's merriment slowly turned to business, passing it to Lord Wolnier who sat next to him. He mimed the words- 80 000 men. 80 000 men with giants. In the days of the Wolniers as conquerors they were said to have more than 100 000, only to be stopped in the north after an over-extension of supply lines and the cold bitter winter.

The lord ran a few calculations within his mind, taking into account for domestic politics and the rate at which a house could muster their force: the results were hopeful but far too optimistic for his taste. "Should desperation take us all, the whole of Trevast can muster more men than the northern tribes but leaves us woefully thin and stretched in supplies. The north cannot afford to supply a whole campaign, and supplies from the capital will take months to reach an entrenched force. Therefore the northern invasion needs to be stopped in a single decisive victory." he reasoned out loud. "The problem here is that most of our forces are not well suited to the environment you propose our armies fight in- mountainous terrain nullifies a good number of our advantages, namely our knights. Outnumbering our foes will not work in that scenario. If the Barrans, Vaikens and Silverhawks march north for a delaying action we can expect a full host under Trevestine banners by. . ." he made a show of counting his fingers, but already had a number in mind: ". . .4 months if we muster everything. Then comes the problem of funneling them to a more suitable terrain: the coastline of Lorminium fits that description. This leads to my next bit of bitter news."

Egon straightened his back, a feeling of unease in his heart. "The Eules cannot help." Some of the lords present looked taken aback at their decision; few had looks of doubt and consternation- the military powerhouse of Trevast unwilling to commit to the defense of the land? Had Egon given up before the battle? The Lord in question continued, mindful of the various expressions before him. "This is not due to our willingness to raise banners; a violent diplomatic incident has occurred back at home concerning the Rendalls and my son, Radolf Eule. We fear that there will be yet another riverland conflict- expect a slight disruption in trade flow in the near future. We cannot march north and expose our lands to our aggressors, and should we meet them in battle it will take a longer time to return our fighting force to maximum effectiveness." At 15 000 men Egon was not worried on the outcome of the future conflict- the combined weight of 45 000 wouldn't be able respond quick enough, and their house still had the remnant's of Fredrick's legacy within the three houses. Their refusal to reform and reflect was their alliance's own undoing.

In short, victory was a foregone conclusion. "So long as the Triple Entente remains a ubiquitous factor it is unlikely we will be able to send any form of assistance, save for our good will." The chatter returned to the hall as the various lords discussed with each other. The recent news shifted the odds of victory against them, and the northern resistance did not seem to have any future prospect save for mass slaughter. He also had other reasons to hold back his forces: marching north immediately was suicide for many of the southron lords: winter time bogged down armies as much as fanatical resistance, and made supplying the coalition an even more arduous task. "Regardless of the outcome in the near future, the north will need to hold for a whole year on their own if we take into account of the bitter winter that will soon envelope the south. This will put a serious drain on our resources as well- marching north, arranging supply lines and refitting our men will take the rest of the available time given to us."

He paused, before offering a sincere apology. "I'm sorry Edward, the south cannot hope to muster in our current conditions. I am sure Radolf has his reasons for. . . .his judgement but this is simply a matter of horrible timing. We need to look to our own situation first before being able to help." Egon leaned back onto his table, keeping his troubled heart hidden beneath a blank face- he had his reputation to hold after all. Whether or not they could hold for a whole year would be entirely up to their capabilities as a military force, and for some reason that his mind couldn't specifically pin down, Egon did not have much faith. Barran soldiers would no doubt arrive with the assistance of the northern clans they befriended, and the Silverhawks. . .well he hadn't seen much of their military capabilities for a long while compared to the tempered but wearied Vaikens. It would also be the first time the trio would work together, and there would be undoubtedly a huge chaotic mess as everyone tried to figure out the chain of command. Sending Radolf north could help but he was needed to explain the situation back home and clear it up- that much he was responsible for.

"Perhaps the Thrudgasts can send help, and maybe the raiders of Ohminjokuul- neither seems to be particularly affected by any wars in their territory, although it would still take them time to send help by sea. Show us what passes for fury amongst your kind, maybe we can discuss about more lenient trading rights."

 

[Pureblood-Sin]

Athelrasi listened to the kerfuffle that had been caused by his gesture of wealth to the King...and it greatly amused the Prince to the point that a smirk of sorts would manifest upon his features. The head of house Silverhawk didn't seem impressed with his tribute to the King; in fact, he seemed rather bemused that the head of house Ohminjokuul dared show up with his "blood money". Pity, thought Athelrasi, I thought your bringing so many guards was a prudent measure...too bad. Still this acquired wealth spoke of who the Prince was, and he was honest about it; he was by all means a pirate and a raider, willing to pay the blood price for what he desired and he was not ashamed of it...it would be hypocrisy to do so. Indeed, in the south Westerlands, unless one were to do something truly monstrous, one is never ashamed of who they are; a whore takes just as much pride in her work as does a Marine take much pride in hers. Indeed, from what he heard of the Silverhawk's silversmithing, it was very possible that the men who work in those mines could potentially die an even worse and slow death compared to what a Marine could suffer on the decks of his ship. Still, it felt good that the King vindicated him on such matters; and as he patted the Prince in the shoulders, Athelrasi saw fit to whisper something into his ear.

"I wish to discuss a matter regarding the Boteri with you my lord, in due time of course."

After that was said, the Ohminjokuul turned to his daughter, clad in her silvery scale armour, and smiled; "dear girl, perhaps his highness's beloved son would make a good friend for you?" Jokuula then bowed before her father, then bowed before the king as she took her leave. Before he could do anything else, it was the words of Lord Vaiken that ultimately drew his attention. The threat of the Northmen had grown exponentially, and the large armies that this Lord spoke of certainly explained why raid pickings in the Wild North have been very slim as of late; their usual targets had been all but absent, joining the wider horde. Furthermore the Head of House Vaiken made a request of all the lords of the Empire for further reinforcements. Athelrasi knew what he was going to say before the Lord of Eule chimed in after admitting his own inability to provide reinforcements for the Vaikens.

"Lord Vaiken, I Prince Athelrasi will send you a contingent of my own men; they will be of the mountains so that they pose less of a burden. If you will it also, I will also commission for you a number of our tri-ballistae...bur for a price, we Ohminjokuul do not share our secrets likely."

 

[Fyremage]

Desirak pondered the question set before him, and ruminated over the hobbies Miranda listed about herself. By and large, it seemed she was a typical woman one would expect of the North, although Desirak was far from experienced in women in general, and namely what was typical and what wasn't. What it told him was that she was by no means what he was accustomed to, but for the most part she seemed to share some of his hobbies.

After pondering for a few more moments, he finally answered her latest question: "If I wanted to be cliche', i would choose a former Bayne King. But If i'm being entirely honest, I would probably choose Fyodor Isellyovich. He is such a controversial figure in history, but I would hope to have his decisiveness and quick thinking in the face of an event laced with such tension as he experienced."

Taking another moment to ponder, he added: "If we're talking strictly kingly figures, I would likely choose Desirak the first. A man that could unite the kings of Trevast under one crown had certainly done something right, even though he made his mistakes in his time. Don't judge me too harshly for that choice, hah."

His tone was jovial, and his demeanor charming. He sought to try and get to know her a bit more, so in short order he conjured a question to ask of her that wasn't simply a 'what about you' question. "If you had the power to do so, what would you change and why?"

______________________________

80,000 men. 80,000 men and 40 giants, who according to legends could easily take the place of 100 men per giant. Those were extravagant numbers, and yet Adric did not take Edward as a man for extravagance or embellishment, which meant the threat they faced was dire indeed. And with fall in full swing, the frigid north would not be the most welcoming of environments for Southron forces.

Of course, the Baynes were not averse to that. They had wintered in the north with House Barran near 300 years ago, and even fought in the north with the Vaikens. Of all the Southron houses, House Bayne by virtue of their legacy probably stood as the most experienced in what fighting in the north meant. And frankly, expecting the Vaikens to hold out for an entire year was asking too much of them, and even four months was pushing it for at that time, winter would fully be here. They had to do something, yet Egon was accurate in his assessment about the unavoidable constraints they would all be encumbered with.

"The Baynes have not forgotten the deal we struck with House Vaiken, nor will we ignore our committment." Adric began, now seated in his chair with the other lords. "While I trust in Egon's assessment, I can say with confidence the Crown can rally at least an advance force to march back north with you at the conclusion of the festival. I would venture to say somewhere in the realm of two-thousand encamped near Heldrayth, with the promise of more to be sent as we would need to gather our forces and supplies. And with Egon's troubles in the west, the Crown would be remiss if it did not also assist in that as well." He looked Lord Edward in the eye as he added: "And I shall issue a call to arms with my vassals to muster some amidst their ranks. My steward will send out word now."

He nodded to his steward, who immediately left the room to carry out his master's wishes.

 

[Cainhurst Crow]

Lorian was silent as he read over the letter and passed it forth, a dread forming in him as he read over note the number of men, but the damage they managed to inflict upon the house that had managed to stop his own family dead in their tracks. These houses to the north were strong houses, whose warriors were hardy and fit to fight in the winter and bitter cold. House Wolnier came from the harsh heat of the desert, but the cruel cold of the north was another beast entirely, a ravenous bear versus a venomous viper. His course was somewhat clear, given the timing of all things.

"My fleets cannot help in this battle. The frozen great rivers will give us no chance to advance. My own people who fight on land are few in number. House Wolnier has long stood as one of the guards who stand against the east. Our forces are adapt to the desert, not the mountains and the cold..." Lorian said in a calm voice, listing all the cons of his people, giving pause before he continued on.

"However...we are members of the realm, and we do not turn our backs on those who have done good business with us. House Wolnier cannot pledge a full army, but we can commit a number of our men to this cause, and a number of our goods, to this defense force. We can also assist in helping to supply any forces going north. Our preserved and dried foods will help keep the army feed, and our men can supply clothes and herbs to ease whatever harsh conditions the north may bring, provided we are compensated in turn..." He said, Lorian being a man of business before all else, but also a man of honor, and of personal dignity.

"We will not abandon the realm to be ravaged by the north. Trevast is a nation that brings us all together. We will not see it fall to some rabble in the north and their brutes of unusual size..." The wolniers had no real concept of giants, being unfamiliar with the myths and ledgends of this land. He could speak of the legendary hydras and manticores that stalked the eastern plains, but not of the beings that dwelled far into the mountains. "Seeing the dire nature of your situation as well, I will put forth a request of my father, for permission to bring you Everflame to use. A last resort, but it may prove valuable in this war." He said, bringing up the incredibly flammable and incredibly hard to put out substance the wolnier's used in battle. Even during the times of the old march north, Argost had utilized the substance to keep his host alive in winter, for even frozen solid, everflame still burned with a great intensity when put to the torch.

 

[Elijah Brockway]

Ollis affixed his glare onto Tiagon as soon as Hiral had left. He had little patience for men who disregarded honour and propriety, biting at the heels of the righteous in society as though they were common snakes, fit only to be tread upon...and he had just as little, if not less, for those who defended them. He also had little care for the southern house that would sooner drop to the same petty insults than they would ensure that honour and proper conduct were followed. "My Lord Thrudgast," he started to say, his voice as flat as a cliff and harder than granite, before he was interrupted by both the Lord Ohminjokuul and a discussion on the matter Edward had wished to bring up to them; instead of continuing, he released the western Lord from his gaze, focusing on the conversation at hand.

"They seem to have left those clansmen allied with myself alone, at least for the time being," Ollis mused. "Though I doubt that will last, should they experience success against the Vaikens...if there isn't even a force of them headed towards my borders as well. I can rally the clans that fight with me, and send some of my own men to aid you, Edward; I hope you'll forgive me if, in the interests of security, I maintain a portion in my own lands, to guard both the northern isthmus and to keep watch on the Boteri."

* * * * * * *
​

"Speak about myself?" Erant asked, raising an eyebrow back at Louise. "My lady Louise, I feel both that I haven't much to say on such matters, and that it would be highly improper of me to allow the conversation to become so focused on myself." He flashed the girl a smile, before slipping back out of his 'Lordly' mantle of speech. "Though if you want something simple, I, unlike my father, am a relativly informal person; feel free to just call me Erant. The day I have to truly be called a Lord will be a sad one ideed."

 

[Fyremage]

"It appears, My Lord Vaiken, that you will have the support you need." Edric stated, a slight smirk on his lips as he noted the Lady Silverhawk discreetly request to excuse herself after being approached by one of their House servants. With a nod, the King relented, and turned his attention to the Lords as a whole.

"My Lords, If there is no other business needed to be discussed here, then I see now reason to keep you all. Before we depart however, I wish to sincerely thank you all for you making the trip to our city."

The King's eyes met each and every Lord's in turn, hoping to drive what he was saying home: "Amidst the realities of our lives, namely the responsibilities and expectations we face by our people, It can be hard to remember how much we all rely on each other. Although my family has ruled as Kings for many years, it would be for naught if it weren't for the support all of your houses have lent over the centuries. And at this time of the year, every year, I cannot help but think of this and swell with pride in what our Kingdoms have become. Although we at times have our differences, and history has shown we have not always been the best of friends, we have proven over the centuries that we are able to put aside those differences and unite as one, at least to some degree."

Edric took a slight pause as he grasped a goblet of wine, poured and presented by one of his servants, and thereafter raised it in the air in front of all: "I raise this glass in friendship to all of you, and in appreciation for the loyalty and support you have shown me, my father, and my grandsires. May we experience another year of peace and plenty."

At that, the King brought the goblet to his lips and took a heft sip of its contents, though dignified as etiquette demanded. After his toast, with yet another warm smile to all, he added: "If i may, I would like to have a private audience with the Lord Eule, and thereafter Lord Vaiken if you two could remain within the palace. And with your permission, Lord Edward, I would like to speak to Lord Eule first."

A Bayne Sergeant-at-arms entered the hall and politely cleared his throat and carefully avoiding His Majesty’s Royal gaze gestured for permission to speak. With a nod from His Majesty the sergeant-at-arms began.

“Your Majesty, Lord Maximillian Vaiken sends his compliments and has requested Your Majesty’s and Your Excellencies’ presence outside, he says he has a gift to offer your Trevastian Majesty. It is being carried by a convoy of wagons and 2 dozen Lundevan. What are your orders?”

With a gentle sigh at the unexpected interruption, yet being unwilling to leave the young Vaiken Lord waiting, Desirak nodded his approval and proceeded out of the room, his guards in tow as he left to greet Lord Max.

@The Star of Chaos

 

[Jason Vaiken]

Lord Maximillian Vaiken extends his hand out to his lady wife as he assists her departure out of the carriage and then his young son, Bryce. He then turns and awaits the arrival of His Majesty and his father. After all he has a lot to tell him, but he will keep it brief for now. When the King and his vassals arrived he gave a bow.

"Sire may I first present to you my Lady wife Augusta and my son Bryce." He gives his wife's hand a gentle squeeze. "But that is not the reason why I have called you here. The real reason is that I wished to convey the results of the end of this years campaigning in its entirety. Father, after you went south Lord Gaunt and I maintained our watch when our scouts out in the hidden listening posts reported that a detachment of 8,000 men were marching south to augment the besieging force. I led a party of 2,400 men and then forced their surrender. The remaining force has ended the siege to prepare for the autumn harvest and unfortunately for some of them, they are now buried under tons of snow. My father told me it was customary to give Your Majesty gifts. Consider this the gift of the House of Vaiken, 5,000 swords of the enemies of Trevast."

He gives a classic Vaiken grin, confident and gregarious, but the men assembled can see he's more... reserved then his father.

@fyremage

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Lady Louise gives Erant a small smile before she begins to talk to herself. "Well I like to read books and have some competence with a bow. I'm a decent enough rider, but I prefer to read my books. I also have-" One of the Vaiken guards comes striding to her and whispers into her ear and her brows knit together in a small frown, "I beg your pardon Erant but it seems that my mother wishes to speak to me immediately. I do hope to continue our conversation at a later time."

With that she walks off to go meet with her mother.

@Elijah Brockway

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"Your Royal Highness, the question you ask is a good one, yet the problem is, that there are many things worth changing. Perhaps the thing I would change is our... prior opinion of your house. My father has gone on and on about the necessity of cooperation. Perhaps things would be better, for too long we have gone it alone..." She looks and catches the eye of her sister and seemingly without words she seemed to receive a message from her. "It would appear I have to go somewhere else, I did enjoy talking with you Your Royal Highness." She gives him a light curtsey and a soft grin before striding away.

 

[Fyremage]

Edric emerged from within the palace, greeted by the sight of Lord Maximillion aiding his wife outside of her carriage. After the bow of respect, the King then listened to the recounting of the young Lord Vaiken's resounding victory over the northern host. He strode over to the wagons containing the weapons of the wild tribesmen with a look of pride on his face. "Well done my lord Vaiken. You have done the realm a great service." The King said as he grasped one of the blades and inspected it, thereafter setting it down within the wagon.

"Please, you are welcome within my palace. We will find accommodations for you within the wing your parents are provided. I do hope you can attend our feast this evening."

After his pleasantries were over, he turned to Lord Edward, and glanced back at Max before adding: "Can we speak privately? I will have refreshments provided, as I'm sure you have had a long journey."

Turning to Egon, the King begged the Lord's pardon: "If you don't mind waiting, my lord, for me to finish with the Lord Vaiken. Or perhaps even join us, if Lord Edward is agreeable?"

(END)