In the Northern Outlands...

"...And may Jorundr, God of War, Fire and Light, shine generously on our blades," a woman in furs spoke with conviction over the large fire, where her wolfish tribe was circled about. The tribe thumped their feet together, low rumbling growls sounding from them all in a kind of barbaric applause. Their eyes were cold with what seemed to be frozen glares on their scarred and soiled faces. It had been a harsh and long Winter, but they were welcoming in the Summer Days with a salute to their patron God of War. It was by the grace of the Lord of Fire that had kept most of the tribe alive through the Dark Winter. It was only right that they honor their Gods, so as to keep the blood fresh on their blades and fires warm in their souls.

Ur'Sula was a decent sized woman with a youthful face, with two blue painted strips down one side of her face and her mangled dark hair tied behind her head. She had started off as the youngest Alpha any of the Forest and Mountain tribes had ever taken witness too. She was also one of the few female Alphas. It was she that decided which slimy Janirarl would die and it was she who decided which groveling Krolja would join her rank as a Rskalarn reborn. She who was know for victorious bloodbaths and she who was known to have cut off one of her brother's ears when he dared try to oppose her as Alpha of their late father's tribe.

She was as cold as the steel of her favorite dagger and as sharp as one too. Like an animal she could sniff out weakness and a rotten heart. It was why no man ever dared try to challenge her. Nor woman either. Rskalarn women were not like the Krolja or Janirarl women. That could not afford to be weak. In the forests and even among their own kind they were like sheep waiting to be devoured by wolves. This was the way of the North, and it was not kind to the weak.

"Have the other Alphas and tribes started arriving yet?" her harsh voice rasped as she asked her right hand man.

"Aye, Alpha," he hesitated before adding, "Your brother be among them."

"Good," her grin was more like a bearing of teeth than that of happiness, "This Summer Gathering is important. All Alphas know that if North and South unity, the Janirarl will be harder to get too than ever. Many things may be discovered at this meeting from our Brothers and Sisters closer to the border." Her eyes snapped over to the man and she smirked. "Make sure trouble is kept to a minimum. At the last Summer Gathering three tribes exterminated one another. We can not afford to have so many losses this time."

"Aye, Alpha," he said before tromping off. Ur'Sula smirked as a tall man missing an ear sauntered up to her. Amazing, the arrogance he always showed, even when it was known that she was the stronger of them both. She balanced her ax on her shoulder and sneered up at him, tilting her head to the side.

"Good to see you, Brother. Let's walk."

Just outside the Northern Kingdom...
The air was still cold. The ground was still hard. But a small red haired girl hacked away at the soil with all her might, dirt smudging her pale skin. A few yards away her father was digging up rocks to large to break. Even though it was still briskly cold out, they were both drenched in sweat. The sun high in the sky, a light sunburn was scratching its way over the the farmer daughter's face.

"Frija, we should rest for the day," her father shouted from across the way, "The soil's still too bloody frozen to get into."

"An hour more, Father," she shouted back, rubbing the back of her hand over her forehead. She was dressed in a faded and worn blue work dress, with a greyed chemise and a soil stained bandana over her head to keep her hair out of her face. She would of been a passably pretty girl if not for all the dirt and ragged clothes. But she was a hard worker and strong when she needed to be.

As the hour passed, her father dragged her away from the vast field, sitting her in front of the fire and muttering about seeds and good days for planting based on superstitions. After cleaned herself and putting their work clothes away, she started on making their dinner for that evening. Warm mead and mutton stew with a crust of hard bread was all they ever ate, but she did try her best to make it the way her mother used to. It was a hard life in the fields, but it was a better life than most.

In the Northern Kingdom...

General Arjar paced the stone halls of the King's Hall. He was a slender man with long blood red hair and sharp ice grey eyes.

"You look troubled, General," a soft and sort of haunting voice smiled from behind him. Whirling around he glared at the snake of a blonde priest named Ularich. If that man was servant to the Gods, no wonder the North was harsh. The red general grimaced down at the blonde man, who seemed all too pleased at his discomfort. "Something on your mind?"

"The Queen Dowager of the South is trying to incite some sort of union between the two kingdoms through His Highness, the Summer is brings the Rskalarn skittering out of their Wild Lands like rodents, and the infighting between Janirarl and Korlja is only bound to get worse," he hissed, "Am I worried indeed!"

"You worry too much General," the snake of a blonde man sneered, "The King is only humoring the engagement to the Southern Queen to get closer to learning their plans, surely." He played with the amulet around his neck with a severely annoying smirk on his face. Why the Gods would choose someone like him Arjar would never understand. He'd rather gut the serpent than humor him.

"Well, since you know more than me, apparently, how about some advice to the ignorant?" Arjar grumbled, his pacing slowly to a halt and turning into a stance of intimidation. The priest did not look impressed.

"Gather the Janirarl before the King and the Gods shall provide the answers on inner kingdom difficulties," Ularich's soft voice murmured, his slanted eyes looking up at the General as a grin crossed his face slowly, "As well as your pest problems with the Rskalarn." Arjar hated to admit it, but it was a good idea. By Vemundr blood, he hated it when Ularich was right. With a growl, he turned on his heel and started to tromp off.

"You're welcome, General," a cheery voice called after him, "And may the Gods smile upon you!"

In the Southern Kingdom...

Queen Ashamaria Tel Ljaia the Third was taking refuge under the linen canopies of her veranda. Her long silk black hair was down and only adorned with a few loose strings of shells and pearls, her lounging dress made of practically see through purple and white linen, hemmed with silver and gold designs. Around her were young male servants, fanning her, playing flute music and offering her refreshments. Her deep drown eyes, decorated with golden make up, were lazily looking out to the sea side far away. Her Kingdom was built on the high cliffs of the Southern shore, protected with its heights and spot on archers. It was a beautiful day, if not hot. But Summer was born anew, the Rains of Winter finally gone.

She hated Winter, even if it did bless them with the lush gifts of the Goddesses. And to think she was considering her mother proposal. Marriage to the North King! A barbaric beast, just like all the barbarians of the North. Of course he'd probably want her to live with him. Wives of the North, no, women of the North were nothing if not servants to their men. Ridiculous. She'd insist that she stay here, right in her own country, where she belonged. She was no man's property.

"Enjoying the Light Goddesses gifts, are we?" the smooth, calm voice of her mother washed over her like the waves of the Southern Sea, "As well as Suma's gifts of bounty and music. You must of had a long day." Sitting up and turning to look over her shoulder, to where he mother stood, trailed by the General Fonfira and High Priestess Kalima, Ashamaria raised a brow in surprise.

"Is something going on?" she asked, a bit cautious. It was odd for the High Priestess to leave the Grand Temple, and odder still for Fonfira to agree to come to the palace when she could be training recruits.

"The Dowager Queen summoned us," Kalima said in her whispering sweet voice.

"The Northern snow melts into Summer and surely those Wolves are up to no good," Fonfira said in her clear and blunt words.

"So you wish for a then meeting, Mother?" Ashamaria leaned her head on her arm, looking at the three of them before gesturing to the veranda around her, "Let us talk here then and be done with it. I dislike thinking too much on my supposed future husband or his kingdom."

Hakari moves North to the Alpha Gathering to hear Ur'Sula

Hakari moved with her pack as quietly as shadows and as difficult to detect.
The La'Vesstal were often referred to as the Invisible People for few if any ever saw them alive.
She was not presently accompanied by her entire pack having hidden them away under guard. The La'Vesstal were a very private people who's hunting grounds were secluded far to the South in the dense Rain Forests an only the Blood Pack traveled far from that home. Each member of the Blood Pack had at least 14 enemies spirits marked on their bodies and Hakari their leader had more than 40, twice as many as her father the former La'Vesstal Alpha did at her age. Her bow "Deadly Twilight" knew the names of 1,000 and more enemy spirits and she was deadly acurate as well as fast in Twilight's use.
Only the foolish among the Rskalarn dared challenge Hakari to a contest at bow for even though she'd only been her people's Alpha 1 year only her father had equaled her skill.

This would be Hakari's first time presenting herself as La'Vesstal Alpha and she knew that she needed make a good impression. To accomplish this Hakari planned to simply appear with her Blood Pack at the Gathering with no out sentry knowing they had even approached. Her scouts began soon to inform her of the watchers an she moved accordingly so as not to alert them or reveal herself.

The Blood Pack spoke not a word using fingers and facial expressions to communicate silently, they avoided disturbing the local fauna less they call out warning and their foot steps made no sound.

The final leg of their journey was done slowly and many times they could have added the members of other packs to the list of spirits that served the La'Vesstal but did not having no blood feuds with any at this time. When they finnally reached the gathering site three members of the Blood Pack created a distraction on the far side of the clearing.

Hakari and her Warriors stepped out of hiding and sat at the clearing's edge drinking, grooming each other or lounging.
Even Hakari sitting crosslegged was engaged in silent conversation with her brother Ar'Neff (Kills 6 Men) her under Alpha.
Ar'Neff served his function as under Alpha till his sister found a suitable mate and would do so till that day.

Delta was kneeling. The small alcoves to the side of the kings hall served as shrines of sorts, was in the alcove dedicated to Vemundr, on both knees with his hands raised to the ceiling Delta was praying. 
"Dear Lord in heaven
My bare hand shall work the righteous work.
My shod feet shall walk the 
Righteous way.
My naked eye shall read the righteous word.
My mortal shoulders shall burden the Righteous weight.
And my unsheathed blade shall soldier the righteous war." he murmured, eyes closed in vehement worship. Kat was by his side, looking at him, head tilted eyes looking upon the armored caretaker to her side.
Slowly Delta unbuttoned his bag and pulled out offerings: a stem of lavender, a cusp of wheat and a small wooden carving of a Kat. "Lord, accept my offerings for I am your worshiper, your hand on this earth, accept them for I love and I fear. For I send in the name of the souls you have claimed and the souls you will claimed.", he placed the offerings on the barren alter and pinched the candle wicks, putting out their flames and casting the alcove into darkness, the shadowed face of Vemundr looking down on him compassionately. Delta rose and walked out, popping a bundle of mint leaves in his mouth and chewed, his steps slow and deliberate so Kat remained close. Up ahead two people were talking a priest by the looks of it and a military official. Delta sneered internally, he hated the army, all that they stood for, all that they were, and it was because of his brother, Maximus. As he passed the General he spat the mint leaves out of his mouth and at his feet, locking his eyes in a glare with the man for a moment, a long moment, hate flaring in his eyes, hands on the hilts of his short swords.

Right as it seemed the man Delta sought to start a fight a firm yet gentle hand affixed itself on top of Delta's left sword hand. "Surely friend even Vemundr would take it as a insult to cause death in front of his alter," the voice was emotionless yet stern the blank face of King Wilhelm made is itself known as he walked out of the alter next to Vemundr's. Usually people would take it quiet disrespectful to see a fight break out in front of a noble man, but then again this was the North where Nobleman were sometimes the very cause of fights.

"Ingvil to would take it as a insult and as a goddess of night she is not one to trifle with either," the King spoke calmly as he removed his hand revealing which alter he had just exited from.

"Damn these letters I keep receiving from the current Queen of the South... hm I give her one thing she is indeed relentless to hear my word on this unity matter of her's... so my General what has you in such a... sour appearance?"

"Imperator," he fell to one knee and bowed his head deeply, looking to the floor in reverence, "forgive my misconduct, I just have many grievances with army." we tilted his head up so he could see the pompous general sneer at him from behind the king, "should the military swine not be bowing aslo-" he froze in shock, the accent Delta so tried to hide from nobility creaked out, 'aslo' the word echoed in his mind, "also." he amended himself. He rose from the floor and stood infront of his majesty. "My lord, I was to make a more- appropriate introduction of myself however the opportunity has passed. I, my lord, am Delta Tiberius Koronii, 12th Legate of the 12th mercenary legion, I am here on behalf of my brothers and sisters to send a message," with a swift movement and a flurry of glinting chainmale he knocked the general to the ground and produced a large sack from his bag, pouring the contence onto the floor, "1,874, pilgrimage necklaces, that is 1,874 men women and children laying on the floor infront of you." meny were chipped and meny scorched but all of them were bloodied. "And all by the hands of your, army." he slat the last word like bitter tree sap in his mouth.

Ur'Sula and the Gathering of the Tribes

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."

The North King's Hall Meeting

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."

Asgeirr Renouf stood at the balcony outside of his bedchambers and drew the furs across his broad shoulders tighter, although the winter season was now on its retreat back to the high mountains further north, the bite of the bitter chill still in the air was a reminder that the planting season was still many days away. But it was clearly already an anticipated event among the farming villiagers under his charge, whom were already at work clearing their fields in preperation. He had spent that morning and mid day travelling on horseback throughout the southlands of the north Kingdom that had been in his Familys guardianship since the time of the first King, given as reward for his ancestors support and defense as eventually the northern clans were brought under the mantleship of one Ruler. However, such reward was not without its price, being along the border of the Southern Kingdom meant being among the first to incur southern invaders and Rskalam raiders, the price paid evident by the grave markings of the Honored dead buried not far from the Keep.

Asgeirr's shoulders slumped slightly, his own Father and Brothers, strong, proud defenders, laid buried there as well, but such sacrifices made in the past only strengthened the present defenders will to hold fast what was given them by the first King of the North, and now the Army of the Southland garrison held the honor of being the best defensive line along the North/South border. Asgeirr exhaled, his warm breath creating vapors as it touched the chill of the air, he made a mental note to have the Garrison Commander to increase training, with the retreating of winter, there would also come the Rskalam Raiders, which over the past several seasons had become more of a threat to Southland moreso then then the threat of invasion from the Southern Kingdom. In the past he had suffered the loss of a few head of cattle and a few sacks of grain in order to maintain an odd sort of uneasy truth with the Barbarians,but only recently thier raids had gotten bolder and to the point that soon the garrison would have to be called out and the raiders dealt with by blade and spear since attempts to negotiate a truce were always failed.

He turned from the balcony and made his way to the wooden table and picked at the plate of dried venison meat, his belly grumbled, not for the cuase of hungry, but for the want of fresh game that would also come with the passing of winter. He turned from the table and went to the large chest at the end of his sleeping furs, opened it and rooted through its contents till he found his rolled up hunting garb and bow, making his mind up to call for the Huntsmen later this eve and prepare a hunt for the morning of the morrow, to which he would join as well as he found himself suddenly longing for the exhilaration of being on the hunt, deep in the game woods tracking elk and deer.

Hakari meets Ur'Sula and Tas Vil

Hakari waits silently for Ur'Sula to approach and observes the Alpha's greeting with calm detachment.

"Alpha of The La'Vesstal tribe, We greet you," says the other woman as she an her brother Tas'Vil bow.
Then come the pretty words as Ur'Sula introduces herself
"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."

Ur'Sula's pretty words were not half truths like those of the others but they were still words meant to flatter and position.

"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.
Long had the Invisible People been this way and part of their contention with others.

"Malnir, God of Winter War did look with lust on the blood of our enemy spilled but it was not enough for he took from us Ar'Reff Zans. It was for this reason that in the last two moons we have taken an enemy each day as sacrifice and shall continue till the lighting of the watch fire. As she yet made whole I an Twilight vow to take 100 enemies before then" says Hakari in a soft an seductive tone.
All around her the other La'Vesstal hiss an look away as if afraid to gaze upon her.

King Wilhelm stood their quietly as the mercenary Delta made his blight known he even stood quiet as his High Priest took some of the apparent blame for his General's foul mood, and once Arja said his own word on the matter along with a few extra quips from Ularich. Once the three were done with their words the King gave a soft sigh a strange sight indeed for such a figure... yet the moment was brief as a shake of the head and a chuckle followed.

"Atleast I am not the only one with problems keeping me awake... Delta was it not? I am unfortunately very aware of these numbers my counsel does well in reminding me everything they find wrong with their own kingdoms workings... the very army that protects them being one of their "hot" topics. However I place much trust in General Arja to find the faults I cannot see within those that serve me combatively just as I rely on High Priest Ularich to keep a eye on those who serve me spiritually," The king responded before giving a quick glance to both stated men. While both had their faults he did indeed trust both Arja for his warrior soul and long time friendship, and Ularich for his loyalty and... persuasive skills of a venomous snake when he had to handle matters more... delicately.

"While I don't know all their is to this topic you bring to my presence if you have word or proof of foul acts I beseech you to take it up With General Arja so he may take necessary action to mend the problem swiftly. For just as they handle the watch over the matters entrusted to them I handle the matter of watching them to make sure they never corrupt so please trust them at my own request if you well," The king spoke calmly though his eyes appeared dead on the topic it was clear he meant it.

"As for matters regarding said Queen.. High Priest Ularich I need your advice on a matter I seek a place where the borders of both kingdoms meet so that I myself can meet this Daughter of the South she wishes to hand over for peace before I give a sound answer to go through with such a insane proposal. It need not be extravegent just simple... a place where if things were to go wrong both sides can not claim foul play on the other... in case our wild "friends" care to pay a visit."

A Farm in the North

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.

Ur'Sula and Hakari: The Greeting of the Dragon and the Phoenix

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."

The Hall of the Northern King

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."

The Balcony of the Southern Queen

"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, "Highness, 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?"

Asgeirr made his way down to the common room, which, except for the more amorous couples, served as sleeping quarters for all who lived in the keep. This was done during the winter season in effort to conserve firewood, since a large firepit was the rooms centerpiece, but now that the planting season was only just a few more weeks away, everyone would be back to their own quarters. He mingled among the Servants with comfortable ease, his Father had taught him that just because a person serves another, makes them no less worthy of respect,"Keep a firm hand", he could hear his Father saying,"But be fair, equal in justice, and speak a kind word now and again, and they will be more faithful to you then to their own lover's", Asgeirr sighed deeply, he missed his Father greatly and tried his best to honor his memory, by overseeing the Southlands and its people in much the same fashion as his Father did.

Asgeirr was talking with the Blacksmith about needing more iron for the making of plow shears when a guard came hurriedly into the room followed by what appeared to be a courier of the King, as they approached him the guard spoke,"A courier from the Palace, Lord Renouf, says his an urgent message for you". The Courier, began to go into introduction as if they were at a Royal Court affair, but Asgeirr waved the man off, "Get on with your business lad, we're not at the Palace, now what brings you to my Keep?". The Courier, slightly taken aback by the casualness of it all, held out a parchment with the Kings seal,"From his Majesty, M'Lord", Asgeirr took the parchment with a bemused look, "So I gathered, my thanks", he turned to the guard, "Show this man to the kitchen, no doubt he's in need of a hot meal", then he turned back to the Courier, "Return to me once you've eaten and rested awhile". Asgeirr broke the seal, unrolled the parchment and read it, then read it again, then moved to the center of the room and called for silence. Once the room had quieted, he began,

"I have just gotten word that the King is coming here and will be staying awhile to conduct matters of the Crown with the Queen of the South, I'm certain he will bring his own people to tend to his personal needs, as will the Queen, but in any event, all manners of Court etiquette will be in place, anything heard or seen DOES NOT go outside these walls, or repeated amongst yourselves, as your Lord, and member if the Kings court, it will be my duty to administer punishment upon any offender and I will not be lenient in my duty, now rest well this eve, for on the morrow there will be much to do in way of preparation". With that said he called for his Head of Household, Chief Cook, and stable Master and talked to each in turn, to the Head of Household, he gave orders for the Keep to be cleaned from top to bottom and fresh bedding and linen to be brought in, and for his belongings to be removed from his room, for the King to use. To the Master Cook, he gave leave to gather whatever was needed to prepare his best dishes during the Kings stay. And to the Stable Master, he gave orders for his own animals to be moved to neighbouring farms to make room for Kings men's and horses, and to bring in as much hay and oats as he could.

He called for his own horse, he needed to see the Garrison Commander next, patrols and outposts along the borderlands had to be posted, as he rode he chanced to see a familiar head of red not far off in the woods, of course everyone that lived in the Southlands knew of the fiery red haired woman with the fiery temper to match, those that crossed her once, rarely dared to do it twice, or so the rumors were told. He reined in his horse and called to her, "Good eve Frija, Daughter of Gratir, I trust you and your Father are both well?, I would ask to call upon him this eve, for I have need of his barns to the north of his fields and will pay a fair price for the use of them for the next several days".

Hakari listens to Ur'sula and observes

Hakari listened to what Ur'Sula said and how see said it. She sought no conflict from this woman but as the Alpha of the La'Vesstal she could not allow any slight to pass unanswered.
Tas'Vil of the Steel mountain proved himself as easy prey by his impatience and gave Hakari a chance to observe the status dynamics between brother an sister when he said "We should gather the rest of the Alphas in the main tent,"
It was quite clear that he wished he were in charge and found it difficult to keep that fact to himself but his body language spoke of a fear of his sister.
Had one of her own brothers spoken so out of turn Hakari would have ignored it in the presence of prey. She would have waited till nearly all had forgotten the slight perhaps even her own brother and then she would have struck. She would not have sought his life or even perhaps his injury, in fact it might have been as simple as urinating in his bed pack or fire pit of his lodge.
La'Vesstal very rarely killed their own and even then they did so with great remorse often taking in the family of their foe and making them as their own.
It was while contemplating these thoughts that Sho'Sho one of Hakari's outrunners (Scouts) appeared and sat among his kind an began eating. He said nothing but his position and squating stance spoke volume to Hakari.
She observed the movements of his finger and the bird like way he tilted his head about.
He'd seen the iron men of the north in large number heading with purpose to a location east of their own. With them were the talking banners that spoke of the number of Alpha among them and one was of the Alpha of Alpha's their King
Ah to own such a spirit as her own would make Hakari the happiest of all, she would have the sign of his talking banner tattooed on her face so that all would know the story of his death.
But having other things she must do she left such pleasing thoughts wait till she next entered the dreaming lands

"As expected Ularich I give you questions, and you give me answers," the King spoke as he observed the map laid out by the High Priest, and just like he said their was no better position to be found on the map. Even with that said though this whole first meeting or to be more précised this whole matter concerned him greatly. From the moment he took the crown at the early age of eighteen the Queen of the South had battered at him wildly to test the new King of the North even once going as so far to invade a small piece of Northern territory to see how he would react... those first two years as King were indeed hell thanks to the Northern Court and the Southern Queen. Arjar wanted war while Ularich suggested to retake what was their and react in kind to the Queens challenge. What had he done at that time... he commanded Arjar personally along with the Royal guard to reclaim the city without so much a single causality though many a wounded... it was then Wilhelm learned from first hand how much a handful a Southern soldier could be. It was also at that same time he enraged the court by returning ever Southern soldier to their homelands territory it would be also the first time he would meet the General of the South though they never spoke they locked eyes.

"For the last four years the Queen of the South has tried me and made things difficult yet now in this most recent year something wants to make her aim for a peace between our kingdoms by a unity with her daughters arm... I feel very weary of this deal Ularich," the king confessed as he signaled a soldier to come over before giving him the task to inform Janirarl Renouf of their plan.

"At the same time I feel this is a good chance to atleast speak to the woman or her daughter about the rising Rskalarn problem and what they planned to do about it on their side... maybe we can find a common solution among them rather then a bunch of squabbling courtsman. As for the numbers to join me on this trek... we will keep it to a small percentage of the royal guard and either you or Arjar shall join me... no doubt the Dowager Queen will have either her High Priestess, or General with her to protect her daughter I should take that same precaution," the young king decided as he finally sat down tired due to the pent of stress of his job thanfully after sending the one soldier away their was only the High Priest to see his faltering condition... it was quiet clear the Kings health wasn't all their... though most likely only Arjar, and Ularich truly noticed this being the closes to the king.

"Heh I am starting to wonder what really killed my father... battle or his kinghood," the King joked as he gave a look to the High Priest.

"... Tell me Ularich what shall I do?"

The Doll with the Heart of a Bear

Frija was startled by the voice that addressed her, having been so engross in her work. She huffed in irritation to hide her slight embarrassment. Her cheek were pink, the light kisses of freckles on her cheeks and nose standing out a bit more than would have with her usual creamy complexion. Looking up at the man on the horse, her round green eyes widening at the side of none other than Janirarl Asgeirr Renouf sitting on that saddle. She wondered if she should curtsy. Her eyes glanced at the ax she had resting on her shoulder and she smirked with a sniff. Nah, probably not. She didn't all the much care for arrogant men she didn't know anyhow. Instead she gave him a curt but deep nod.

"Janirarl, how kind of you to inquire," there was a bit of a smirk on her rosy lips, a bit of sarcasm in her voice, but not enough to offend, "We manage the best we can, like everyone else." Her gloved hand went on her hip, the other side resting her ax on her shoulder. Her wildfire hair was tied back with a thin strip of leather and she was in a worn winter dress that might of been blue at one point and a vest of grey fur that might just of been a wolf at some time. She was known for having a face and form that was too easily underestimated. Those that got on the deadly side of her temper, usually trying to take what belonged to her or her father, usual ended up close to death, or dead. Like her vest for instance. But then again some didn't believe it, getting a good look at her.

"Father is sleeping," she said briskly, "You can deal with me." Her face steeled for either laughter or anger. Women in the North weren't known for handling business affairs and they certainly were not allowed to own land when unmarried. But all the same. Father needed to rest. They'd be at it in the fields again tomorrow and she didn't want him catching sickness. Catching sickness was deadly out here, so far from a doctor.

Ur'Sula and Hakari: The Greeting of the Dragon and the Phoenix

Ur'Sula scoffed at her brother and rolled her eyes. She was a calm and rather easy going person, unless pushed to far. The other female Alpha however seemed more aggressive openly. She could see how she tensed and seemed to wait for Ur'Sula to put Tas'Vil in his place. But Ur'Sula did not need to lash out at him. He knew her all too well. He never pushed far beyond the norm and Ur'Sula enjoyed watching him squirm uncomfortably. She enjoyed watching men squirm. It was extremely entertaining.

"Better follow him to make sure he doesn't mess anything up," she smirked, turned to trudge to the main tent where all the other alphas would be waiting. It was never good, getting all those arrogant power driven men in on small place. There was always trouble, especially if two alphas happened to be battling for territory. She heard one of Hikari's tribe members run up to his Alpha. Hm, something amusing must be underway… She'd have to keep an eye on that female's tribe.

"Ah, so we are almost all gathered, I see!" she said cheerfully in her raspy voice, even though it held all the command and power of an angry warrior, "Then it is time to get this underway! We all wish to hear news from one another, certainly, but being Host I have news concerning the King Dog of the North." The alphas around her growled and grunt, beating a single foot on the ground. Ur'Sula smiled cruelly, her thin lips stretching over white teeth like an animal bearing its fangs.

"It has long been said that the King Dog has been hounded by the Old Mule of a Queen down in the Southern lands to mate with her cow of a daughter," the male Alphas smiled at the snide joke, "Well, it seems he just might make the girl his b**** soon enough." Now there was a low laughter. The brutes. Her face got cold and serious. "I say that's a bad thing for our tribes. You mix Southern stealth warriors and their unrelenting berserkers into the mix of North swords and archers, what do you think they will do first?" Another stomp on the ground mixed with growls. "Aye, that's right!" she raised her voice and pumped her fist, standing near the fire in the center, "They'll start bringing the fight into the forests, the mountains, everywhere they know we reside!"

She took out her dagger and jabbed it towards the fire. "They'll hunt us like game, the cowards!" she shouted, "And they'll swarm us and out number us like bugs!" Ur'Sula's eyes gleamed unnaturally from the fire light, even making her brother shudder. "Well I say we keep the Northern Dog from getting his paws of dangerous toys," her raspy voice had softened into a icy whisper, making the others lean in to hear her, "He thinks he'll be safe there at the border? He thinks since we have nowhere to ambush him from, that will let him live?" She let out a vicious roar. "I say we tear his head off!" The other roared with her, their feet thundering on the ground. Once the din calmed a bit, she shook back her hair.

"Now then," she grinned like a wolf, "Ideas anyone?"

The Hall of the Northern King

Ularich mused over what His Majesty presented him with. After such a long struggle with the South, when presented with continuing the struggle only to have it escalated, or to set aside centuries of pain to bind the two with marriage, what should a young king do? Even the snake of priest was a bit daunted by the whole ordeal. But he was never one for violence. At least not out in the openness of daylight. A smile washed over his serious expression finally though.

"May I present His Majesty with some advice then?" he grinned taking out a small blue vial, "We can not know the future, but we can prepare. If you lay eyes on the young Queen, despite that horrid shadow that has plagued us all for four years, and you do wish to go along with the marriage, let it run its course for a while." He set the vial on the table.

"The young Queen is said to be very pleasing to the eye and very entertaining when in good company," he mused, "Perhaps you will find her a better puppet under your control than her mother's. But…" His eyes slipped down to the vial. "If she proves to be more trouble than she is worth as a wife… Well, you know how easy it is for the Southerns to catch sickness in our harsh climates. If one day she slips into sickness and can not be found in better health, no one would blame her loving husband for overseeing her royal duties." He smirked looking up at the King. "Like say… over seeing the South."

It was a sneaky plan, but the priest was know for more delicate tactics than the general. What he was suggesting was that the King marry the young Queen, sever her mother's puppeteering and instead turn her into his own pawn. But if she could not be controlled, then she could be subdued. If they married they would have to travel between the North and Southern capitals while plans for a central place were set in place. And if the young Southern Queen happened to 'catch sickness' while staying in the North, no one would blame the North. Not with this certain potion Ularich had happened on. A drop of it would make her ill for a week, and no doctor would be able to tell what the cause was. And if she had the whole vial… Well, they would have to make sure the King had full holds over her lands before she drank all of it. Sinister and sneaky, but cautious and genius. He wasn't called the Snake for nothing.

"I advise you keep the general here, for his temperament is no good at negotiations," he said placing a comforting hand on the King's shoulder, his voice soothing and soft, "I will also have the royal physician make you an elixir to make sure you rest well. I can also make a few suggestions for a more fulfilling meal regiment to the royal cook. After all, if haven't got your health, you haven't got anything." He gave the kind a gentle smile. "The Gods watch over you with good grace, My King," he said kindly, "They know you are strong of heart and mind, and they bless you with good fortunes. For behold, here is the King who will do as none have before him! He will unite the lands for the first time in centuries!"

The Great Temple in the Dessert of Tamkamet, 19 days far to the Meeting of Royal Peace

"You Majesty, will not the Queen Dowager protest to this?" a young high priestess said softly with worry as they entered the courtyard, "This is not a ceremony usual for someone who is about to be married."

"Yes, it is something for young maids to ask the Goddess for their true soul's half to be shown to them," the dry yet sultry voice of the General of the South smirked in amusement, "You're mother may find it a bit rebellious."

"As if I care," the young Queen said calmly, waving their words away, "All unmarried women do it, so I shall do it too. I want to savor being free for a while longer, and so I shall do all maiden do at my age. Including the Heart Flame Ceremony." She undid her hair, it falling in waves of dark soft silk down to the back of her knees. Looking up at the night sky, she wondered if it the rain would fall that night. She prayed to the Goddesses it would. Then perhaps it would put out her flame during the ceremony and she would not wonder if her other soul's half would always be out of her reach. For if it went out during the ceremony, then it would mean her other soul's half was not living and she could be content in her unhappiness without the hope. Ah, she was such a child.

"Well, I shall be in the courtyard to watch, Your Highness," General Fonfira chuckled, sauntering out waving behind her, "Have fun with your ceremony." Ashamaria paid no heed to her General's teasing. She might think it was silly of her to try to quash her hope, and maybe it was. But the fear within her, the stress of thinking she might be married to a beast of man who'd steal all her birthright freedom… It was enough to make her ill. So she would conduct the ceremony and invoke the Goddesses knowledge. But unlike those who usual conducted such a ceremony, she hoped for a different answer. Oh please, let the flame die, so I am not tempted to reject this advancing marriage merely on the hope that I can be happy in love. she though as she lit the wick in the lotus like bowl. An thus, the ceremony started.

"Hakari Listens to Council

Hakari Listened to the words of Ur'Sula as she spoke of the King and his marriage plans. How he was at war with the south and sought alliance and end by marriage. How if he married that even the Invisible People need fear the end of days. Then Ur'Sula asked for advice from fools for Hakari had little respect for those males around her. They had demonstrated their lack of respect when her father had died by seeking either to encroach on her people's lands or to offer her a mate with no proof of manhood after she became Alpha.
It was only because out of wisdom or distance Ur'Sula's band hadn't insulted her. For this reason an the curiosity of seeing another female Alpha that Hakari had answered the call to assemble. She didn't blame Ur'Sula for asking the fools for advice because as Alpha of this gathering she needed to tread carefully, to allow the males to believe themselves helpful.
It was while in reverie that a blood drinker landed on Hakari's left forearm and when she swatted an killed the offending bug it's blood filled gut burst making the tattoo of Baku the night walker seem to have blood in her teeth.
For a few moments Hakari looked at the sign and then realized that it was an omen. Baku was a spirit exclusive to the Invisible People, she was the goddess of feminine trickery or wiles; she was one of Hakari's totem spirits.

"His downfall shall come at the hands of a woman" says Hakari as she smears the blood across Baku's fangs

"Perhaps it shall be the Princess or even Ur'Sula your hands but it will be a woman that causes him to fall" says Hakari laughing softly

"I must seek Baku in the forest of Dreams" says Hakari as she suddenly stands and simply walks out of the gathering

She walks to her pack's fire and settles among them then begins running the fingers of her left hand over her body touching her breasts, belly and head as she sways slightly.
The reactions of her pack are surprise and in a few cases fearful for their Alpha has told them by her actions that she dances with the Baku Maneatter this evening. Her two best hunters leap to their feet and rush away seeking an outsider preferably male and just entering manhood to bring back alive. It will be this poor soul's duty to provide the blood required to attract Baku. The others except for her brothers head off to prepare the dancing circle as their Alpha begins chewing cercit leaves in preparation of entering the dreaming lands.
Hakari looks on nervously as his sister prepares to offer her very soul as the price to gain the secrets of Baku. He knows his sister is a strong spirit and possibly Baku's equal in power but Baku is an old an crafty spirit who might trick her into surrendering her body to her. This troubles him because if the Dark spirit gains the use of Hakari's body then she gains control of Deadly Twilight Hakari's bow which is said to contain the spirits of 5,000 enemy of the People. With such power in her hands Baku could rise and challenge or anger the Gods but in either case it is a bad thing.

He is tempted to ask her not to seek Baku but knows his sister is on a path which he cannot see and to disturb her would cause friction in the pack which would be bad.
Has'Kos (His eyes are Bright) keeps his tongue an prays silently to Janos (Wise Monkey) his Totem to watch over an advise his sister

The Doll with the heart of a bear Colab

Asgeirr tilted his back and laughed heartily, "Come then Daughter of Gratir, though I am of a sudden dread that I will ride away with less gold in my pouch, then I would have bargaining with your Father, let us strike a bargain, you and I", Asgeirr slipped from the saddle and stretched his 6'4" tall body slightly," There is no need for us to stand on ceremony, Frija, today I am but a person seeking to bargain with another, feel free to call me by my given name...may I?", he asked and gestured toward her axe. He took the axe, tested its weight in his hands before taking one of the larger logs she had cut and sat it upon its side on the stump of the tree she had just cut down, and laid the edge of the axe across the top of the log, then turned to speak to her,

"I have need of your Fathers barns, The King and his retinue will be arriving in a few days time and I am in need of a place to stable my own horses while the Kings horse and those of his men use my own stables", Asgeirr raised the axe high up over his head, then brought it down hard on the center of the log, splitting it in half then bent down and picked up one half and split that in half, "I cannot say for certain how long the King plans on staying, but given we are a farming folk without much in the way of luxury or lavish living quarter's, I think it not too long", Asgeirr placed the second half of the log on the stump and proceeded to split it in half as he did the first half, then grabbed another log and laid it upon the stump,"Shall we begin with say...seven days use starting the day before the Kings arrival, I of course will provide hay and feed for my horses...keep in mind it is I paying for the use and not the King, therefor I expect you to offer a fair price, Frija, now what say you?". He split the second log as easily as the first, then the tow halves into halves, allowing her a moments time to figure a price in which to charge him.

Frija tilted her head to the side almost haughtily. She wasn't sure if he was mocking her, or if he actually felt a bit sheepish about dealing with her. With a hand on her hip she kept a cautious eye on him. There were many reasons not to trust Janirarl, no matter who they were, and being female, there just happened to be even more reasons not to trust him. Janirarl were silver tongued and fork-eyed. They could charm you till you were half in a grave and turn on you before you even realized how devilish there true personalities were. A Janirarl was the reason her once noble father was a farmer. His grand father had been victim to a very beautiful and very greedy Janirarl. And it was taught in the family to be wary of any noble-blooded person, though you must always be polite and gracious. Seemed a bit backwards, if you asked Frija. She'd rather just smack them in the behind and make them leave her family alone than be nice to them. And that was why she wasn't shy about showing this Janirarl her more snippish side.

And by the Gods was he odd. Call him by his name? By Gods, how odd. Sure he was extremely tall and intimidating compared to her, but she didn't shy away from those types. Many Northern men were taller and stronger looking than her. Although in her experience it meant nothing when will came down to it. He took her axe and with annoying ease he smacked it perfectly in half. She did well to bite her tongue, and make sure her eyes didn't bug out of her skull. Impressive, yes, very. But she was already in an ill mood from being tired. He could split all of the wood himself, if he liked, but it wouldn't butter her up for any bargin. Money was money, no matter the flattery. Poverty would teach anyone that.

"Our barns," she murmured with her arms crossed in thought, her mind reeling "for the King. The King is coming here?" Well, then. How much odder could this get? Why would His Highness ever wish to leave his palace, for a place such as this? Her eyes snapped up however when he said 'we are farming folk' and her doe-like eyes sparked with anger. It was almost arrogant, they way he considered himself on par with the real farmers. Yes, they were so equal, the workers in the fields tilling away day after day, bleeding from work as he sat up in his fortified cushion drinking down wines and courting frilly frivolous women. Yes, they were sooo equal. But she kept a pleasant tone in her voice, her hand clenching her arms so she wouldn't be tempted to throw something at him.

"Seven days use, no feed or hay, the cost on your shoulders?" she mused tapping her chin, "Fair indeed. Twenty-five Gold per night, per barn should be about right, since one horse staying in our barn for a night would be two Silver." She grinned, which was actually quiet a sweet looking smile, to hide the remaining anger that had been in her eyes. "For you of course, the price is lowered, Mi'Lord," she said in her musical voice.

Asgeirr had not used an axe for the purposes of chopping wood since the days of his childhood when it was his chore to keep the hearth stocked with wood, or else suffer the harsh tone of his Fathers voice chastising him for failing such a simple task, a tone of voice he had seen and heard his Father use to make even the most battle hardened of the Kings Guard knees quake. It was a skill he used to his advantage now, using the axe with such a practiced ease he was able to watch Frija as he split her wood. Though she was Krolja, she was unlike most other Krolja, her ability to mask her contempt and distain while addressing one of the Janirarl class with false gestures and inflections of her tone of voice was equal to most, but it was the fire within her eyes that gave her away, and there was also no mistaking the flash of anger in those eyes when he purposely counted himself as one of the Farming Folk.

He paused from splitting the wood as she put forth her offer, he balked and feigned a look of astonishment on his face, "May the goddess Frida seek to bless my own coffer's with such prosperity, surely your comment of the price being lowered was meant to be humorous, Frija, but nevertheless, your skills would be better suited in the Merchants Guild, then here tilling soil". He paused a moment, then offered a counter bargain, "Fine, twenty five per night, per barn....in addition to, free use of a pasture for my war horses, and....I may come and supper with your Father, I trust he still savor's the taste of fresh venison and a tankard of ale?", he inquired casually, letting the implication that he might know her Father hang in the chilled air as he went about splitting the last of the larger logs.

Frija appeared to live up to the name her mother had given her on that winter storm night she had been birthed too. She was a cold and ruthless thing when it came to money. Money was hard to get, especially as a Farmer so close to the border. Her family was those that had fallen from nobility, but still had enough Janirarl blood to be able to get into the higher society by name. Janirarl ladies loved a good subject to gossip about. No doubt she'd be the highlight of the evening party if she were interesting in going to such things. A Krolja lady. Now that was a sight to see.

But it would be a cold day in the Underworld before she stepped foot into one of those situations. She didn't like being a 'lady' if it meant battering her lashes at anyone with title and money, suppressing her true self just to get married to some pig in lace. Her blood red hair was whipped up around her face as a passing wind rolled through the thin wood. Her sparked green eyes were locked with the Janirarl's and she managed to keep a smile on her face.

"Free use of the pasture for your war horses, without a finger laid to my fathers two work horses," she managed to get in an innocent fan of her gingered lashes, "and one dinner with my Father." She put stress on the 'one' with an unusual force. She didn't need him spreading it about the land that her father was so taken with ill that she might truly be the one running the farm. Or that they were in such a weakened state. Who knows who might just decide not to wait till her father's death to try and take their land and their home. They already had enough trouble with bears and wolves and a bandit here or there, they didn't need over bearing Krolja men and Janirarl graspers to be bother them. As oddly kind as this one was, she knew all too well how cruel men could be when had nothing to gain by being nice. Hell, things like that had taken her mother from her.

Asgeirr chuckled again, "Horses will be horses, but I will inform my stable boys to keep the horses separated, as for 'one' dinner, I will agree, but I doubt your Father will, there will be many stories to remember...I was still a "wet behind the ears" Officer of the Guards when I first met Sergeant Gratir, this part of the Kingdom was much wilder back in those day's, the Rskalarn were as thick as Vultures flying over a carcass back then", Asgeirr turned to look at Frija intently, "What I am about to tell you does not go beyond the two of us, if it does I will deny ever speaking of it, simply for the sake of your Fathers pride, but I will tell you because your Father never considered himself to be a Hero, but rather only thought of himself as only doing his duty...if it not for your Father stepping in the way of a young female Rskalarn's war spear meant for me, I would not be here chopping the wood of his Daughter, I owe your Father a debt, should Vemundr take him before he allows me to repay him, then being his offspring, the debt falls to you, Now...I still have the Garrison Commander to see, will you require my help in fetching all this wood home?". he asked as he held out his hand for her to grasp forearm to forearm as was the custom to bind the bargain between them.

"Doesn't go beyond us, huh?" she said slowly, "Well, then I have a few things to say as well." Frija wasn't the type of woman to fall over a man. Even even he own the land her father lived on. Or all of their neighbors' lands either. Her wild red hair whipped up in the wind, several rouge strands burning against the monotone greys of the world around them. Her blazing green eyes only narrowed slightly. That lady-like smile on her face slowly faded. "I don't like you," she said bluntly, "but like any other woman I guess I have to bend my back to your will too."

She took her axe from him and slammed it into one of the logs, splitting it clean in half. Compared to his show, it wasn't anything, but for a woman from noble bloodlines, she was impressive in a wild kind of barbaric way. Putting a boot on the stump she used for chopping, she looked over her shoulder at him. "Don't expect much," she said in her clipped way, "Things are different for us than your gilded Janirarl ways. Look down on me, scoff at me, laugh, I don't care. But you disrespect my father... Well, then the King can find himself camping in the forest instead."

It was an arrogant and reckless way of talking, especially coming from a woman of the North. Had she of spoken like this to him in front of others, she could be arrested and executed. But he wanted to speak his piece, well then she'd get a few truths in as well. He was asking to eat at their table an unnumbered amount of time, which would not only deplete their stock since of course it would have to be fancy, but would make her have to skip on several meals herself. It was burdensome to have to cater to his whim, which he obviously didn't see. And it pissed her off.

"Vemundr take my tongue," she huffed, giving him a smirk, "You're trouble and you bring trouble with you. My father is an ill and elderly man who has had to work his fingers to the bone just to keep his family alive. And he failed. And it with his failure, so went his health and any other future for those left alive." She gathered up the wood in her arms. "I'm all that's left for him and we can hardly take care of the farming," her words bit like the icy wind, "You want me to cook you feasts, just so when you leave we can go hungry? Nay, sir, you best believe I will do right by my family's survival first." She glared right up at him. "So do not expect much."

She looked down at the arm he offered. "And you know very well how much you mock me by doing such a gesture," she hissed, "A contract with a woman is not honored. The only thing I can do is set the guidelines. I'll take you to my father and he will solidify the agreement." Although it wounded her pride to be unable to strike the contract completely on her own, she knew best than to take up the arm only to have him go back on his word lawfully just later. She was smarter than that.

Asgierr withdrew his hand and glared at the red haired woman in silence for several moments, it took all his effort to control his temper, he'd heard the rumors of the red haired Daughter of Gratir's brash and impertinence way of manner and had thought them to be slightly embellished upon up until now. When he spoke, his voice was low, commanding and only when he turned to mount his horse did his eyes break from hers,

"Like me or not, I am the Janirarl of this land, and therefore responsible for its people and their protection, and as the Janirarl in rule of this land, if I chose to make a bargain with whomever I chose to make the bargain with, it is indeed binding because my word is my bond and my bond is my honor, why else would I stand here and suffer your arrogance and insolence of tongue and manner?, how do you think it would fare with the other Farmers of my land if I were to strike a bargain with one of their own and then not honor the bargain later?

Asgierr let out a low whistle then pulled himself up onto the saddle after the horse approached at the familiar sound, taking up the reins he turned to lock gazes once more with the redheaded woman.

"You dishonor your Father and disrespect me with your lack of hospitality, did not my asking if your Father still savored the taste of venison imply I would provide for the meal?, I am well aware of the welfare of those under my charge, young lady, my coming to your table was not for the sole purpose of gorging myself upon your store of foodstuff, but to inquiry upon the health and condition of an old and respected friend from my days serving in the Kings Guard...now, since your find my gesture of hand to be so mocking to your sensibilities, I will indeed seal the bargain with your Father as agreed upon, but it will be without your assistance...I will send a carriage for your Father in a days time and offer him the courtesy and hospitality of my house that his Daughter lacks...have a pleasant eve, Daughter of Gratir". With that said, he reined in and spun the horse about and galloped off in the direction of the Garrison.

The young king watched as the High Priest placed the vial in front of him as his words slithered a drop of venomous advice. Wilhelm had to admit their was no more a dangerous mind then the High Priests' in all the North. Slowly with the lit torches all about to guide his hand he reached out for the vial when suddenly a window opened unleashing a unnatural wind that dosed out the flames leaving only the shadows to consume everything besides the kings hand which was still illuminated by the moons tranquil light. The King was paused in thought at the sudden happening as he watched the shadows stay still never advancing to consume his hand as if to hold it in place. Then with a perplexed look he pulled his hand away from the bottle.

"It seems the goddess Ingvil disagrees with our thoughts... for never have I seen her extinguish out Jorundr's flames so violently... nor Jorundr to not react back," the King spoke as the room stayed dark with only the two in their to mull over what had just happened.

"For now lets not think of such a route unless a time calls for it to protect our people.... for now lets keep sight on the true goal of this as you said my faithful friend. Unity shall be our path," he sighed as he stood up while a maiden came rushing in with a torch to light the room back to life. Once she was done she closed the window and apologized for not arriving faster before the king haltered her and sent her off promising she had done no fault.

"...Though I must say would it not be entertaining to see both General's of the North and South meet? I think it would be humorous for Arjar to meet someone with a equal temper," the King chuckled as he patted the High Priests' shoulder. "No? Then let us hope not to be met by High Priestess Kalima last thing either side needs is to her a religious quarrel from two overly intelligent figures," he kidded as they headed out of the room to set up for the travels to come, and as they left the room he couldn't help but feel some unnatural force calling his name... as if for him to be somewhere else... in a far away land.

((NOT FINISHED))

The Forest and the Farm

Frija scoffed as she held her wood in her arms, trudging through half melted snow. The Great Janirarl Asgierr make a woman clasp forearms to initiate a contract? Yeah right. If she took up his arm, he sooner drag her to town for violating the law than honor such a thing. Women couldn't hold contracts, according to the law. Same as they couldn't hold lands or even enter councils. So he truly did want to set traps to get her out of the way, huh? Probably to get to her father and have him proceed in giving up their land...their home... His glare wouldn't scare her. The God of Death scared her more. And she had been close to meeting that somber God more than once.

He could stand above her all her liked, but she would't fall for his tricks and she would let her pride sentence her to death. She was a strong woman, yes, but she knew the law. And where the law stood on what role women played. As much as she thought it ridiculous, law was law. Her would just have to wait for her father to die before he took their strong hold farm. Her fingers clenched at the wood in her arms and she swallowed hard. She stopped and looked down at her gloved hands. So...she'd really have to get married before that happened in order to keep her home, wouldn't she? Clenching her eyes shut, she shook her head, blood red hair slashing into the morbid greys of the forest. No, she'd figure out the answer to that problem later. Not...not right now.

"Honor holds nothing when you face the blade of an executioner..." she murmured to herself, "Better to bend to the law than to die...because of some farce. I'd rather be seen as a savage and stay alive, than be seen as 'honorable' and die." Letting out a sigh, she started marching home once more. "Men make bargains," she said plainly, speaking more as if lecturing herself, "For a woman to do such violates the law and is punishable by death. And I will not be mocked simply because I was not born a man." She bit the inside of her cheek, glaring forwards. The wind was picking up and the sting of it against her skin was keeping her alert and out of angry thoughts. Rational survival always trumped frivolous pride. And she no longer had the luxury of frivolity.

What did mister high-on-his-horse know of how they lived? He'd been born into Janirarl living, just as she had been born into her lifestyle. It wasn't something that was concurred, but was something that could be worsened. What was honor among the starving? What was respect when facing Raskalarn raids? He was too optimistic and took them lightly. Muttering and grumbling under her breath, she finally made it home. "...The pompous... 'I'll send a carriage'," she mocked in a high voice filled with disgust as she set out the wood, "...That figgin'... 'I'll visit as many times as I like and make you cook as many times as I feel like it' ...blood-bearing tooth rotting pig..."

"Someone sounds out of sorts," a rough male voice smirked. Frija whirled around, cursing under her breath, holding her axe at the ready.

"Kon'Ira," she bit out, glaring at a man with beastly qualities, including masculine pelts as clothes instead of cloth and blue face paint, "Wrong season. Trying stealing from us once we bring in crops. You might find it more sensible."

"Oh, don't be that way," Kno'Ira sneered, gesturing around him, "It's just me, unarmed, I swear. Actually I saw a horse ride off not to long ago. Though I might see what's up."

"'What's up' huh?" Frjia narrowed her eyes, "Cute. Now tell me what you want. It's cold out here."

"Fine, fine, Bear Heart," the Rskalarn crossed his arms, grinning widely, "Just letting you know that out little visits might get a bit more... rough," he reached out and twirled a red lock around his finger, "That is if you seemed to be getting to friendly with the Janirarl."

"Real funny, coming from you," she smacked his hand away. Then as quick as a viper she struck a hard blow to his stomach before using her large boot to send him to the ground. "Get out of here before I hack of a limb," she growled at the gasping man with red hair in front of her. Standing at the ready, she watched as he slowly regained his breath and stood up, still gasping.

"Just thought I'd warn you," he gritted out, "As your brother." He let out an annoyed grunt before hurrying off. Frija scoffed and fixed her hair.

"I don't have a brother any more," she mumbled to herself before going back inside. Something told her things were going to get a lot less tranquil real soon.

Rskalarn Blood Lust

It was the Alpha Hakari who seemed to her the oddest of them all, but the Invisible People had always been the most mysterious of all tribes. They were so close at being Southern Rskalarn, that Ur'Sula often wondered whether or not the Southern tribes might understand them more. While the male Alphas often tried to test tribes with female Alphas, Ur'Sula knew better than to stick her hands into a viper nest while out knowing the cure to the venom. She'd much rather have the mysterious people be closer to allies than to make them an enemy, as she was sure most tribes present at the Gathering were seen by Hakari.

Fear? No, more like respect. Ur'Sula was always one to take over a weak tribe, but not with knowing for sure she would win. It was why she was undefeated. Because she chose her battles wisely. Her brother on the other hand... Well, she sort of wondered if he didn't have an Invisible People viper bite on him somewhere. The tribe's alpha proved herself to be most intimidating for sure. The ice colored eyes of the strongest female Alpha bore down on the most mysterious female Alpha as she seemed to called into a trance by the Gods.

But she spoke of things Ur'Sula seemed to smirk in knowing at. A woman would be his end indeed. It was either by her blade, or even Hakari's, that would end him. The Princess? Ur'Sula wanted to laugh. What weak willed Princess could stand up to such a task? She wasn't well versed in the South or their people, but she knew Janirarl women of the North pretty well. They were women shackled by the laws and their men. Weak. Laughable.

But even as the other female Alpha stood, the other Alphas grew silent. It seemed they had just a stroke of fear for the woman. Ur'Sula grinned behind her hand. Whoever Baku was, she praised their influence. Fear tactics like that where always a welcome sight. It helped the female Alphas gain leverage. With a stomp of her hard boot and a clap of her hands, she grinned wolfishly at the men around her.

"That ends our Gathering," she put up a hand when they moved to protest, "We have a King to hunt. All tribes should move out." The Rskalarn woman grinned, the shadows drawing over her face in dangerous ways, her eyes lit by the fire, glowing much a kin to an actual wolf's eyes. "We follow the Northern King, surround him on the third day of his stopping, he shall be no more and the Rskalarn shall finally have power to live as freemen." She turned on her heel and strode from the hut, marching out to meet her tribe to command them to ready for travel.

With the Northern King

The High Priest smiled and made a fluid gesturing bow, the danger swirling in the vial, seeping an awful kind of discolored light. With a slip of his hand, he snatched up back up and hid it away in his robes once more. His perfect, dangerous grin, that seemed too large and with too much teeth, like a snake grinning in a pleased sort of irritated way. So full of contradictions. Someone you should feel comforted by was more dangerous than any general. Superstitious? He might be a servant of the Gods, but a gust of wind and a few lights going out was no sign. The Priest could practically hear his dry voice dripping with disbelief in his own thoughts.

"Of course, it was only a mere suggestion," he said instead, bowing deeply, "By the will of the Gods, I trust your judgment as ever, My King." He would have to do some studying into these supposed signs. Jorundr's sacred flames put out? Ingvil's powers entered the great God's sanctuary? What did these signs truly mean, for surely they were not in favor of this Southern Queen brat! It must mean something else! That little dark-hair she-cub would have to be dealt with, but it seemed he would not get the King's favor in the matter. Then perhaps...a more delicate operations? An accident, shall we say? Then the vixen's death wouldn't weigh on his good King's mind. Yes, he'd have to look into this more.

The lights were once more lit and the High Priest was smiling as any charming snake of his caliber would. "You wish to bring bother Generals together, My King?" there was a bit of disbelief in his voice, "Do you not think that is a bit... unwise? Two wolves in a cage will only bring blood, after all." He fidgeted in his unrest. "If your intentions are peace, why bring a man of war?" he implored, before checking himself, bowing slightly, "But whatever His Highness wishes, it shall be so." Following the King from the chamber, he almost grimaced to himself. He must be patient, patient, wait for the right moment. Then, by his own hand, he could end the senseless War of Ages. Patience...patience is key...

The Southern Queen Traveling, 18 Days From the Meeting Place

"So was it all you had hoped?" The dry voice of her mother was dripping with disapproval. "Look at you, covered head to toe in red dust like a common maiden asking for true love, of all things."

"Mother, it will wash out before we meet this wondrous Bear King," she said, her own voice laced with frustration as she scrubbed at her thick long dark hair, "It isn't as if you hadn't done the same thing before meeting Father."

"Young lady, I chose your Father with help from the Goddesses," her mother shot right back, helping her daughter wash out the red powder from the ritual she had secretly preformed, "You do not have such a luxury. And how you ever got the General to stand by and let you do such a foolish thing, I'll never know."

"It was odd though," Ashamaria murmured a bit dreamily, "That summer storm danced right over us, and even when we were outside that tiny flame never went out. What do you think-" She looked up at her mother, who was glaring at her with a raised brow. Right. Wrong person to be asking. Perhaps Fonfira... No. The General was not one for romantic nonsense. But the flame hadn't gone out. Which meant her Soul's Pair was still in the threads of her future. Too bad she couldn't see into the future. If anything now she felt more nervous and apprehensive to this whole marriage.

"I want you to be spotless by the time we get there, do you hear me?" her mother's icy disapproval dampened the mystic dreaminess she still had from preforming the ceremony, "I won't have your future husband thinking your some Rskalarn child who dances about in red dye with Heart Flame Moon Maidens!" Her mother opened the curtain to her caravan and left, leaving Ashamaira to star down into the large bowl of red water.

"Well that went well," a familiar snarky amused voice scoffed from behind her. Turning her head, her dark eyes found the petite yet intimidating General Fonfira who slumped down on the sitting cushions, a bowl of sliced fruits resting on her stomach. "Though I do agree with her somewhat," she muttered, slipping a slice of pineapple into her mouth.

"What do you agree with exactly?" Ashamaria went back to scrubbing her hair, her voice trying so hard to keep from wavering with worry.

"You performed the Ceremony, but what good is it?" the General mused, "If anything now you'll just be even more miserable, pining away like some locked up pansy from a Northern fairy tale." The older woman tried softening her tone. "You can't escape this, you know," she said gently, "Your mother will find some way to get you and this King bonded. For the good of both kingdoms."

"I know that."

"So why'd you do it?" the General lurched forward in her seat, putting aside her bowl of sweets, "Why do that to yourself, kiddo? A tiny flame of hope? Like some knight who will whisk you away from all your troubles? This is reality! Things like that don't happen. Ever!"

"I know that!" she shouted, her dark eyed narrowed and zeroed in on her best friend, before relaxing with a wavered sigh, "I just...wanted to feel free...Free to love some unknown man without feeling trapped in by it. I just...wanted to dream a bit...Just a little... I'll marry the Northern King. For the good of the people. To stop the killing." Her hands stopped scrubbing and she looked into the deep red water. "Even if he's some giant monster of a man, old as the mountains and crude and vulgar as a troll... I'd do anything to stop a senseless war and save my people's future from such a bloodstained fate. I'd marry a dragon if that's what it took." She started to scrub her hair again. "But I just wanted to fee normal and free from once. Even if it twisted me inside like a knife afterwards." She smiled up at Fonfira. "Childish, isn't it?"

The female general stared at her for a moment. Then she sat back slowly and let out a long sigh before shrugging. "Yeah, a little," she picked up another slice of fruit and looked at it, "but... You'll be a good ruler, Serigal. More than you know." Ashamaria smiled at the small endearment her older friend used and went back to scrubbing her hair as their caravans wound through the desert.