[b][center]Ur'Sula and the Gathering of the Tribes[/center][/b]

Ur'Sula and her own brother walked in near silence, like two alpha wolves sizing one another up. She knew of her brother's plans to one day over take her and her tribe. He thought it an insult to their traditions for a woman to be Alpha to one of the largest and oldest tribes in the North. But what he did not know was that women were more brutal and far more deadly than any man he'd ever faced. The pleasures of power were something no woman would ever wish to let go of, once she had tasted its divine fruit. He'd have to slaughter her and all her tribe in order to get what he wanted.

"The La'Vesstal tribe of the southern border," she said in amused interest as she found them on the boarder of the gathering, "Brother, look you there. The silent assassins of the border have found themselves a new Alpha."

"A woman," he grumbled, understanding her underlying point, "What of it?"

"Do not be rude," she said as if talking to a child, "Let us greet them properly. It is only respectful."

"Hurm," he grumbled back, "'Respect' indeed. Jorundr guide me." The pair of Alphas walked up to the La'Vesstal's Alpha. With Ur'Sula's direction, the dropped into a deep bow, one arm of their chest, Ur'Sula's fluid and graceful, her brother's restrained and curt.

"Alpha of The La'Vesstal tribe, We greet you," Ur'Sula's husky voice and tilted smile always held a bit of edge even in her polite words, as was her nature, "Sister, I hope you traveled well. I am Ur'Sula, Alpha of the Winter Wood's Tribe and my brother, Alpha Tas'Vil of the Steel Mountain Tribe. Malnir, God of Winter War, looked kindly on us this Snow Season and we only lost a handful of our brave warriors. I hope he smiled upon you in the Southern Borders as well."

[b][center]The North King's Hall Meeting[/center][/b]

General Arjar Blutwasser held his anger tight. He was already in a foul mood due to the slithering snake of a priest, Ularich. And now this man dishonored him before the Gods! Oh that he could strike him down where he stood! Then he would know of respect! But he kept a hold of himself, his flashing eyes glaring back at the other man, the down to where his hand was on the hilt of his weapons. Foolish man. But the King himself stepped out and into the vast Hall, scolding the other man and Arjar could help but give a smirk and arrogant tilt of his head. He wait till after the lower ranked man knelt to then dropped to one knee, as was respectful, his head facing the floor. The priest whom had followed him at the sight of what seemed to have almost of been a good fight, followed suit, but reasonably more graceful.

"Aye, His Majesty is right as always; Vemundr would strike down his aggressor with a plague of pox before suffering such an insult unto his name," the blood red haired General sneered, "As for personal grievance, you should direct your anger in a more suitable manor, such as a scheduled duel, before insulting the Gods and leaving the North's army leaderless without notice." He stood and righted his coat jacket, bowing again to the King. "Forgive my loose tongue, M'lord," he said quiet mildly and politely.

The snake-like priest snickered and bowed again to the King. "Tis' my doing, I fear," his silky voice holding still a trace of amusement, "I gave the General counsel he did not find to his tastes." The shining snow blonde hair of the man of the Gods fell in long perfect waves to his elbows, the rest of him clothed in a plain black outfit, somber enough in color to register him as a noble Priest, high in the rankings. "As for the Southern Queen," he said slowly with a lazy smile, "has always been known for her persistence in the matters of peace for her people. Even if it is her only redeeming quality..."

The General opened his mouth to respond to the King's question, but it was cut short due to the choppy words of the man called Delta. A mercenary. Huh, no wonder. They held no taste for their vulgarity nor their ceaseless arrogance regarding the Royal Army. They caused problems just as often as criminals did, yet aligned themselves under the Crown as if they were dignified. Ridiculousness, in the opinion of the General. But in a flash of surprise, the man was knocking him off foot and proceeded to accuse him of murdering innocent citizen of the Crown. Slowly getting back onto his feet, he calmly brushed himself off and looked down at the cause of the man's bitterness.

"I gave no such order," he said passively enough, "but if the men found them to be enemies to the Crown for treason then they were to suffer the justice of the blade. When you follow Loke, God of Chaos, you will be tricked and played as a pawn. The consequences, however, shall be on the head of the mortal who committed the crime. Women and children, included." The blood haired general glared frostily at the other man. 

"Women as well as the children they raise can prove to be just as troublesome as any enemy," he said it with ice in voice, remorseless even when accused, "The Rskalarn and Southern Kingdom are proof to that. If those 1,874 were conspirators against the King, it is his army's duty to crush any threat against him." He turn to the king and bowed deeply. "However, if His Highness does see fault in the actions of the Royal Army, I, as General, shall shoulder the blame and consequence of their actions."