[center][b]A Farm in the North[/b][/center]

Frija and her father sat inside, trying the best they could toward themselves by the meager fire. Yet only work passed through the young woman's mind. The ground was still to hard and they would have to perfectly time when to put the seeds into the ground. So everything had to be tilled and ready within the week, least they and their neighbors starve to death. Running a hand over her face, red-haired Frija sighed and slumped back in her seat. Her father dozed in his rocking chair. If only her brother- No. Everything was as the Gods planned it be. She'd work harder than any brother she could ever have. If she had to move the earth by her own will she would. She would not bend to hunger or cold.

"I'm going out to get more firewood," she sighed, putting her boots back on. Her father mumbled in his sleep. Frija laughed softly and shook her head. The older he got, the more like a child he acted, falling asleep in his chair still wearing his work clothes… The Janirarl in charge of their land, which was a good twenty days south ride from the King's castle, Asgeirr Renouf… He was not by any means cruel, at least not to Frija's knowledge, but he wasn't exactly interested in the troubles of Krolja like her and her father and the neighbors. They were too close to the Rsklarn forests anyway, and so close to the Borderlands between the South and North, they were arrogant in thinking they could survive in such a hostile place. It was expected that they might die, trying to reach such fertile soil close to the Rsklarn 'territory'.

Trudging out into the bitter cold, an ax on her shoulder, the woman might have completely blended into the background, expect for that blood red hair of hers. It was not common for Northerns to see red hair, least it be from a noble woman or man, but sometimes… Sometimes it cropped up from a fallen noble bloodline. Not that it mattered to Frija. All that mattered to her for the moment was safely getting firewood.

[center][b]Ur'Sula and Hakari: The Greeting of the Dragon and the Phoenix [/b][/center]

Ur'Sula was impressed at the calmness displayed by the other female Alpha. Seemed she had no taste for polite words. Most interesting, considering many had to try to veil their true nature with words. She was highly impressed with this Alpha. Her brother on the other hand seemed to have different thoughts, what with that stormy look on his pretty boy face. He disliked female Alpha, obviously, but for some reason he seemed to dislike this one even more. Interesting… She must be strong then.

It was common for Alphas to try to show one another up at these meetings. It was often those actions that lead to infighting. And death. It was Ur'Sula's duty as Hostland Alpha to the Gathering to keep such foolish loss of numbers down as much as she could. A veil of pretty words would normally be a selective tool with most boorish and stupid of Rsklarn, but this female was just as sharp as she it seemed, and had to qualms about hiding it. A powerful ally… and maybe foe if it came to such later on.

"Greetings Ur'Sula of the Winter Wood I am Ar'Ness Hakari of La'Vesstal and to you too Tas'Vil of the Steel Mountain" says Hakari bowing to the two Alphas needing no title and giving none outside of her Blood Pack. Tas'Vil seemed to turn a bit pink at the other female Alpha's voice, but Ur'Sula seemed to hear the dark promise in the words instead. Unlike her foolish man of a brother, so easily distracted by feminine qualities, Ur'Sula could hear the promise for blood in the other woman's voice. It made her smirk a bit. Demonic, wasn't she? Best make sure that she stay an ally and not turn her bloodletting blade to Ur'Sula's tribe.

"I see," the female smiled, "Then may the God of Death take pity on their souls." The air the hung between them for that moment was pitched with a kind of soft tension, like that of two predators sizing one another up. Tas'Vil did not seem to notice.

"We should gather the rest of the Alphas in the main tent," his gruff voice rumbled, arms crossed over his chest as if trying to make himself look taller and more imposing, "Everyone seems to be getting restless."

[center][b]The Hall of the Northern King[/b][/center]

General Arjar watched the King make light of the mercenary, and although he disagreed with the more than generous treatment of the other man, he did not go against the King's decision. He was first and foremost a servant to the Crown. He was secondly a man with opinions. This was the way of the world. The general stood and righted his jacket in a very brusk manner. Although his pride was still bruised from the mercenary knocking him off his feet, he would not show it. When the King mentioned his trust in him, he bowed to His Majesty, as did the High Priest. 

"I'd be honored to see the King's will done," the blood haired general suppressed a victorious grin, but his eyes glimmered with it, the intensity of his gaze on the mercenary, "Come, we shall speak elsewhere so that His Majesty can beseech the wise and divine consul of the High Priest." Pretty words from such a usually blunt person. But in the presence of the King with counsel about, it was only proper. And Arjar was nothing if not an upholder to the traditional etiquette towards the Crown. He was raised to be this way, as well as the close friend to the King.

Ularich swept down into a deep bow and grinned. "Of course, You Majesty," his silky voice murmured, "I'm at your service." The blonde hair and almost androgynous priest pushed his hands into his sleeves, holding his arms and making it look at though he were hold his hands folded before him devoutly. "A place that I know that is not only safe, but stead fast in the honoring of the Crown would be the Janirarl Renouf's Lands." The priest glided through the hall to map table at the center of the room. Taking one hand out of his sleeve, he pointed a slender finger at the area specified. 

"Janirarl Renouf's lands are a good twenty days ride from here, longer if you travel with an entourage," his voice had now become just as serious as it was cajoling, "They family lands have always been strong allies to the Crown and they have never fallen to the Rskalarn." He paused, "This does not mean it is still dangerous, but it is most likely less dangerous than being in a Southern palace." He sneered at the thought. A palace like those of the South were lavished and wonderful to behold, but they held more scorpions than the Rskalarn territory held wolves.

"As for a meeting place, both Southern and Northern Majesties would have to travel into the Borderland," he said a bit thoughtfully, "T'would not be long, but t'would be dangerous without the fortifications of either side's ruling." He seemed to catch himself being a bit too vague, "Meaning, while neither side could be held accountable, the Rsklaran would have more opportunity to attack, since you would not have walls or vast farmlands surrounding you." He gestured to the the strip of Borderland between the two colored kingdoms. The North was red, the South Blue, and a thin strip of beige separated them.

"I daresay it is merely a mile in width, though it covers a great length to fully separate the two kingdoms," Ularich said with a teacherly manner, "Both royal parties would be in plain view on the other at all times, once settled on the edge of their kingdoms. This area of the borderland is wasteland, but does hold some oasis on either side, so it would be able to hide Rskalarn barbarians, but not many." He grinned. "Soldiers could easily take care of such cautions."

[center][b]The Balcony of the Southern Queen[/b][/center]

"I grow bored of this, Mother!" the young queen sighed, "I already know all about this King of the North. You did well in seeing to that! Can I not have one day where I do not have to hear about him?"

"Not while I'm alive, girl," the Dowager Queen said sharply, "As long as you go unwed, I am Dowager Queen, and your mother, and you would do well to heed all that I say, child."

"I'm not a child anymore," she muttered under her breath, but sat still and bent to her mother's will, "So we meet with His Royal Pain-" her mother shot her a glare, "[i]Highness[/i], here right in the tight space of wasteland." The general and counsel women nodded. "All the while praying we don't get swarmed by Rskalarn barbarians, sneak attacked by Northern soldiers, or shot down by this Janirarl Renouf's archery band…." She snorted. "Seems pleasant enough…"

"Your Majesty, there is not much else we can do," the seductive general sighed, "It's the only purely open land for the whole stretch of the mile between the two kingdoms and the land of your cousin, Janirarl Visha, shall be just behind us. The North has Renouf, the South has Visha." She took a bite of the fig in her hand, juice dripping down the sides of her mouth, like blood from a wolf's meal.

"It shall show an act of trust at the very least," one counsel woman insisted, "It is not as if we will send you alone. And your cousin shall have plenty of supports are your back, just in case of retreat or protection."

"And no archery band could shot an arrow across a mile anyhow," the Dowager Queen huffed regally, "You really do think too much like a child. They are not part beast, like the Beastmen in you story books." The young Queen turned a bit pink.

"It was just a jest, Mother," she stretched over her seat, one hand on her forehead, "I know that… But when I hear of all the beastly ways they act, I can not help but think of them as part animal instead of complete man…" Everything was silent for a moment, the wind from the far off sea gentle bursting through the pavilion.

"It is natural to fear the unknown, My Queen," the female general finally said, "You are young in the ways of dealing with the North, but you must know they are no stronger than common men, if not weaker, due to the harshness they must endure from their lands. And their King will know better than to disrespect you at such an occasion, but you must show him the same." She bit into another fig before continuing. "That and I hear they can be quiet handsome, in their own ways."

"Like spirits from the snow," a counsel woman prepose, "I hear they are pale and almost exotic looking in their furs and leathers."

"With eyes as light as the sky, surely," another insisted, "They are not nearly as beastly in appearance as they are in manners."

"That is enough," the young queen said weakly, raising a hand, "I do not wish to think of him as anything but that which he is." She sighed softly. "Please, leave me…" Dismissing them with a faint wave of her raised hand, she heard they shuffle off, leaving her with her servant and mother. "It will not make the uneasiness leave me," she whispered, "I hate him. I hate fearing him, which only makes me hate hime more." It was silent for moment before her mother spoke.

"Then you are wise to set your hate aside for you people," her mother's voice was soft for once. The young Southern Queen smiled from under her draped arm, a smile that was both bitter and uneasy.

"Am I?" she whispered, "Am I really?"