<Snipped quote by GreivousKhan>
WOAH, REEL IT IN KHAN!!! DOn't have to go over the handles like that, keep it calm. Kidding, obviously, what's up?
No one is using species names. Which means no one is reading the wiki. :K
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No one is using species names. Which means no one is reading the wiki. :K
Not happy in the manner vilespawn has been used so far. :K
ALRIGHT FOLKS! BREAKING NEWS!
Once Jak gets to the Cap the summit should be the next day roughly. So if you don't have a Rep at the capital yet HURRY UP! Else be forced to have your Prime Magistrate vote in your electors place. The summit has been a long time coming and I know some people have their plots on pause waiting for Jak so he'll be there a full day for any collabs he's needed for.
NEWS BREAK OVER! ^^
<Snipped quote by Goldeagle1221>
Do I PM you, or PM you and Khan and also Gowi? What exactly constitutes a GM matter?
I gave more detail on this rule in the OP, but basically, it boils down to Lore/NS issues or disagreements among players.
Everybody thank Gowi for making the chatroom premium! ^^
The struggle is real.
The Heartlands
Final Act
Ceveut, 12th of Gerna | 1200 AU
Location: Just North of Lalrial
The company of riders moved at a steady pace across the paved white road that acted as one of the main highways to the imperial capital city of Lalrial. Named the Green Walk due to the tall sea of green grass that made up most of this area leading to the Velathi Mountain in the north. The day was cloudy but the high noon sun still managed to peek through the break in the clouds to cast an uncomfortable warmth on the travellers below. The wind was light but still granted a refreshing reprieve from the uncomfortable hot sun. A drastic change to the colder climes the imperial garrison troops of the Fifth Regiment were used to. The imperial banner of a white phoenix on a gold background above the old Ethican numeral letters below it clearly revealed them as state troops. The banner held aloft in the hands of the rearmost rider.
The small party was lead by a single man, his gold cloak hemmed with white joined to the segmented plate armor of an imperial officer was indication enough as to his rank. While his silver eyes and ashen hair gave away that he was of the imperial line. Jakinius Valarien Centurion of the 8th company sat in silence as he contemplated the letter he had received late las night. A hastily written missive that had all but begged him to return to the capital quickly. Sent by a man he did not know yet he felt the importance of that short note all the same. Plotting in the capital? Well, even his limited experience in the political scene told him that was nothing new. So what then? Surely something was amiss and he would not find the answers until he had arrived in Lalrial proper.
As his mind dwelled on this he was brought crashing back to reality from his dark thoughts when one of his men shouted something. On instinct and nerves still high from the skirmish but a few days prior Jakinius hand went to his sword's pommel. However, he spotted what the man was been pointing at. A small escort consisting of a few horsemen and two carriages. Jakinius raised a hand above his eyes to shield them from the sun as he looked ahead. Sure enough, it looked to be an entourage of some lord. The livery consisting of a deep all green.
Who's colors were.... Ah yes, he remembered suddenly. How he could he forget the colors of House Caernavir? He raised a hand and called for his men to hold steady. He looked to his Lokhagos, Metinnus Jaroaria, then shifted his gaze to Lynette giving them both an inquiring look.
Metinnus merely shrugged in response.
“Friends of your’s?” Lynette asked. Despite her relaxed stance, she kept her hand close to her sword’s hilt.
"We shall see," Jakinius responded.
As the imperial riders neared the unknown escort they slowed until they reach a fork in the road. The other path leading the rest of the way to the capital. Riding ahead of his men and his hands visible as to not alarm the horsemen around the carriages Jakinius raised his hands.
"Hail friends! From where hence do you tread?" He began in the common travelers greeting. Where custom often obliged the other party respond by stating their origin and, if they were so inclined, their destination or purpose.
As the green-clad party approached, the figures became more distinct. Two stallions swaggered ahead of the carriages. One of them carried the unmissable figure of Aethlar, King of Gwethydd. He had a strong, square and clean-shaven jaw, with two laughing green eyes and a rush of earthy brown hair. His face was youthful and unlined by age or stress and loaned a regal air by his aquiline and imposingly tall stature. Around his head, he wore the simple, emerald-studded silver circlet that was affectionately known as the ‘travel crown’ amongst the Caernavir. He was clad in finely gilded steel armour, and at his belt, he wore a long, silvery blade in a scabbard, with a hilt studded with a spray of gemstones.
The figure beside him was much slimmer, perched much less comfortable in the saddle. Lord Gaewin’s hair was silvery-blonde, his eyes piercing blue, and he was not clad in armour but in the tight-fitting black robes of the Eldva University.
“Hark,” cried King Aethlar boisterously. “If it ‘tis not the next Emperor on his way to claim his throne,” He laughed, the loud gaiety echoing down the Green Walk. “Do you not recognise the King of the Gwethyns?”
The carriages too now rumbled to a halt, their small accompaniment of leather-clad horseback warriors also slowing to meet the pace. The larger of the carriages was enamelled with green decorations and seemed large enough to hold four. “I travel with my good-brother here, Lord Gaewin di Fiz-Caernavir, and my sisters, mewling hiders that they are in their carriages,” Aethlar inclined his head carefully, clapping Gaewin on the shoulder so firmly that he almost fell out of the saddle. Gaewin readjusted himself, then gave a bow. “Your Highness,”
Jakinius inclined his head toward Gaewin as he was introduced, "but of course, I knew I recognized the livery of honored House Caernavir."
A raised gloved hand from Jakinius called for a halt among his own men. The unspoken command also allowed the company of the imperial company to visibly relax. Even this deep in the heartlands they were still jumpy. Understandable given their less than ideal luck thus far. This close it would be evident to the Gwethyn's how worn and weathered the imperial troops were.
Where King Aethlar and his men seemed fresh, and their armor shined. Jakinius's men seemed hardened as they sported equipment that carried dents, scratches and marks, with their traveling cloaks seeming discoloured and even the iconic red plume of their helmets seemed lackluster compared to the regiments of the south. Jakinius himself seemed royalty mostly in name. The prince of Ethica sat tall on his destrier, the white stallion gifted to him by Ulrich after the skirmish in Lorwood. He had the bearings of a nobleman sure; though it seemed misplaced given his rough appearance. His own armor was just as worn as his men, the faint hint of lines under his eyes from a life of standing watch even in the depths of night were visible. His dark silver-eyed gaze still remained strong, however, his face possessing a beard allowed to grow longer than was custom in the south.
His once silver hair more an almost dark ashen color that seemed to no longer possess the vibrancy of youth. Still even with the grime and dirt of the road, his face still possessed a rugged handsomeness to it. The hint of a smile on his lips Jakinius continued, "I pray you forgive our wariness. My men have sadly run afoul during our trek to the capital. "
Turning his head to one side he gestured, "I see you recognize me, so I would introduce you to Princess Lynette of House Zarand. As well as my Lokhagos, Metinnus Jaroaria."
Metinnus bowed his head respectively, "milord."
Jakinius added, "I would wager you no doubt make way to Lalrial for the election. If you would so honor us, perhaps we may make the rest of the journey together?"
Aethlar inclined his head, and gave a sweeping bow in his saddle to Princess Lynette. “You have seen action?” He asked tentatively, examining the battle-worn appearance of his newfound travel companions. “Was it a successful action?” He stirred excitedly in his saddle. Gaewin cast a glance at the nearest soldier, who spurred his horse and knocked the handle of his sword delicately onto the doors of the two carriages.
They swung upon almost simultaneously, but the farther occupant was the first to make her appearance known. From the second, a handmaiden hopped down, placing a small cushion on the floor so that the Princess inside did not have to sully her feet.
Eadgifu, on the other hand, hung out of the carriage window flirtatiously, a cascade of silvery-blonde hair tracing down its side. Her eyes, like Gaewin’s, were an icy blue, but she had obviously inherited the physicality of her half-brother the king; she was buxon, with plump lips and a flirtatious smile. “If it not our next Emperor,” She called breathily,. “I would bow, your highness, but I am afraid I might fall,”
Gaewin scowled, his stern features offering a fiery glance to his sister, who giggled again, tossed her hair, and withdraw back into her carriage. Aethlar shrugged non-commitally. “My apologies for her. This is her first foray unto the capital,” He explained delicately. “My hope is to find suitable husbands for my sisters, and perhaps,” the King added, eyeing Gaewin skeptically. “...a wife for my brother,” The blackclad bastard bristled noticeably as he closed up his sister into her carriage.
The occupant of the other carriage now stepped delicately down. Haldetrude was much less assuming than her siblings, but possessed more of a regal grace, and her verdant eyes contained something much more potent than those of her brother. She offered the Prince a gracious smile and a smaller curtsey. “Your Highness, it is such a remarkable honour and coincidence to meet you on this road,” She said with a smile. Her plain features were illuminated with her grace, but her words sounded rehearsed and carefully placed, her smile somehow taut and thin. When she met Jakinius’ gaze, it was almost as if he was looking into the eyes of her mother back in Harskmoor.
Aethlar spurred his horse up towards Jakinius and clapped him bodily on the shoulder, as he seemed wont to do. “We will ride with you! Perhaps we shall have occasion to bloody our swords once more, eh? Elections and politicking is dull. I leave that to my brother, Lethlin. ‘Tis no thing for a kingdom to be ruled by a pencil-pusher…” He barked an impetuous laugh. When he looked at Jakinius it was with a mixture of hope, as if he was boyishly waiting for approval from a bigger boy on the training yard. Princess Haldetrude rolled her eyes when no-one was watching, gathered up her black skirts, and disappeared back into the carriage, the door whispering shut behind her. Inside, she unfurled the missive written in the spidery handwriting of Princess Alissera once again and shut out the noise of the men outside.
Smiling for a moment for the sake of politeness Jakinius responded with, "one would certainly hope we will not have a need to shed more blood on the way to Lalrial. Four years in the north and I believe I might welcome the dullness of court politics."
The prince noted the raised eyebrow of Metinnus when Aethlar was not looking. His face saying what he did not need to utter out loud. Jakinius knew his Lokhagos had little patience for the lords of the south. And sadly Aethlar very well embodied everything he disliked about them into one man. Admittedly Jakinius himself held little regard for the stereotypical southern lords either. He still liked to think he judged each man he met by their own merit and not their background. That said, King Aethlar was doing little to disprove those stereotypes.
Metinnus chimed in, "I would agree, as to the outcome of that action we ran into. I dare say it might have turned sour if not for the timely intervention of House Amrothan’s Bannerguards."
“I do feel that I owe House Amrothan an official thank you of sorts for their role in pulling us out of that fire” Lynette added. “Perhaps I’ll send them some of our finer weapons.” She flashed Metinnus a look when she thought Aethlar wasn’t looking; she honestly didn’t have much patience when it came to green-bellied southerners.
“Lord Aethlar, you mentioned something about finding a husband for your sisters.” She hoped to change the subject away from anything even vaguely linked to war. “Perhaps one of my brothers might be a match? One of them is in the capital already, serving as my homeland’s prime magistrate. Unfortunately, the other had to remain home. Someone has to maintain the frontlines after all.”
Aethlar visibly bristled slightly at being referred to as a ‘lord’, but in the back of his mind put it down to the rugged backwardness of northerners. He adopted his characteristic smile and nodded when Lynette spoke.
“Haldetrude is the better match; Eadgifu is a bastard,” He conceded. There was a heavy thumping noise from the second carriage and a muffled shout: “I heard that, you shave pate girl-man!”, which the entire Gwethyn congregation graciously ignored. Gaewin shot the king a sideways glance. “What sort of brides do your brothers seek? I worry my sister’s constitution is too delicate to be faced with barbarians in the wintry north.
“My moth-- I think that the best option would be to settle Haldetrude nearby and send Eadgifu to the north or somewhere such as that. She is of sturdier stock, and she is less likely to cause trouble than she would be in the capital,” He continued amiably.
“I should be happy to make a marriage treaty with your house, Princess. I see sixteen ships leave from Farlook Post a week, laden with various goods, and returning laden again,” He offered a diplomatic smile. “Gwethydd is eternally grateful for the service rendered unto this Empire by those who guard its most northerly reaches. It allows men like me to joust and feast, and men like him,” He jerked a thumb at his half-brother. “To sit in dusty libraries all day!”
“I like her” Lynette commented with a raised eyebrow as she looked back at the second carriage. She let a small smile form on her lips as she turned back to Aethlar. “I assure you,” She continued, “that any sister you might send to the north would be perfectly safe. The danger is not in our larger cities, but in the small towns and villages in the northern reaches of our lands.”
“My brother Kardos,” She said after a slight pause, “Is the Lord and Protector of Chave, the northernmost city of note and arguably our land’s most vital fortress. He is a warrior and leader of no small repute despite his younger age. And I am sure” She continued “that he would cherish any wife who could aid him in maintaining his court up in Chave.”
“As for my other brother,” Lynette let out a long sigh, “perhaps you should save your sister for a better match.”
“It would not trouble your brother Kardos to marry a bastard?” Aethlar asked with a raised eyebrow. “I do not think Haldetrude would survive a northern winter…” He paused momentarily. “Is your other brother like to leave my sister a maid for the rest of her life?” The king said carefully, casting another sideways glance at Gaewin and smirking.
“I do appreciate this spirit of amity. I must write back to my mother to confirm the proceedings; perhaps we can draw some sort of documentation up once we reach the capital,” The Green King sighed. “I fear that the time we spend there will be trying on all of us who do not care to do naught but backstab, plot and scheme. Honest people do not bode well in imperial politics,” He obviously thought that there was some sort of affinity between himself and the other two nobles, who spent much more of their time in the more straightforward north.
Jakinius seemed grateful enough to have the topic change from the skirmish. The memory of those he had lost still weighing on his mind. He, of course, had little to add in the talk of marriage politics though he was wise enough to keep track of what was spoken. It paid to be savvy of the often times confusing twisting webs of marriage alliances that the Arch Electors wove about the realms provinces between themselves. Jakinius trained alertness had also caught -- perhaps-- more than a few telling hints as to who might pull the strings in the kingdom of Gwethydd. Few kings needed to check with anyone else but their inner council after all.
"In that, we can agree on," he said as King Aethlar vocalized his aversion for court intrigues. "I pray things do not spiral into the realm of distasteful in the coming days."
"To that end," Metinnus said turning his attention to Aethlar, "if it would please you, your majesty-- I would ask on the current state of affairs here in the southern provinces. You are the first Arch Elector we have met thus far and I profess a level of curiosity on where the electors south of the Dead peak mountains stand."
Jakinius almost frowned a bit at this but, he understood his old friends motives well enough. Besides Jakinius was far too courteous a man himself to breach the subject, yet he knew any information gleaned now could aid his cause.
If Aethlar was struck unawares by the question, however, he did not show it. He gazed out over the horizon for a moment. “Gwethydd’s last harvest was record. We are producing more wine, more art, and more learning every day it seems. I am brought news of great technological developments from the Eldva University in Harksmoor each day. Coffers seem to be overflowing in many of my neighbouring kingdoms; and I fear that may be your problem,” He paused. “Prosperity breeds complacency. It seems most of the other Electors in this part of the Empire want nothing more than to continue to line their pockets with as much gold as possible. That is a dangerous philosophy, and I fear it could cause discord and strife in the upcoming elections,”
“Your arrival is well-timed, and not a moment too soon. Your siblings have been engaged in politicking for some time now. They have not approached me; I assume it is because they took my vote as a foregone conclusion,” Aethlar paused momentarily. “There are rumours that not all of you will come out of this alive,”
“Your father’s reign was occasionally difficult for those of us who resided close to the Imperial centre. My father used to say it felt like there was a void. You must be magnanimous in your arrival into the city, if you ask me, so that you can fill that void. This Empire needs a man who can swing a sword to guide its way. We need someone that we can rally behind - not a savvy intriguer,” Aethlar nodded determinedly. “...and what of the north? Is it secure in your absence?” He asked, almost sounding half-excited to hear news from the more rugged provinces.
Metinnus smiled grimly, "well it seems your work is cut out for you Jakinius. "
“I cannot speak for Nordevar or the Septentrion,” Lynette said, “But so long as Kardos holds Chave you can be confident that Acitha will remain secure. He is a good commander, has access to some of the north’s best troops, and is holding our greatest fortress; he’ll hold out for an eternity if he needs to.”
“I’ve also left some of my best subordinates in the region” Oktavia commented as she moved to the front of the convoy. “Pardon my intrusion Your Highness,” She said with a sort of half bow to Aethlar. “I am Arch Commander Oktavia of the Sisters of the Silver Shield.”
The King of Gwethydd inclined his head respectfully to Oktavia. “I have heard much of the good work that your order does. It is an honour to meet a warrior of such status as far south as this,” He turned to Lynette. “I am glad. I meant no offence by my questioning; it seems to me that most everyone is suddenly rushing south. I wanted to make sure you had remember to leave somebody behind!” He said with another raucous laugh.
"I shall keep such advice in mind," Jakinius said with a nod. "As for the northlands, I would love nothing more than to say the situation in the Northern provinces is sufficient."
He sighed as he sat straighter in his saddle, "The northern garrisons have never been as poorly equipped as they are now. Understaffed, poorly funded, and even to this day we still feel the gap left by the fall of Duke Carles and Yarlo Valarien. The Nordheim grow bolder by the day, their reavers sailing further and further south each season. I'd have not left at all had circumstances not convinced me things needed to change in the empire as a whole to address the issues we face. At the moment, the capable imperator Selbrio Ohollian remains in the north to make certain things do not collapse further. I can only hope my visit to Lalrial does not turn into a waste of time."
Aethlar suddenly seemed to be struck with a bolt of inspiration. “I shall send a detachment, post-haste. The soldiers of Gwethydd are not often deployed in such frigid conditions, but with proper equipment and furs they should manage well enough. I warrant that nothing that the Nordheim have developed can fire an arrow as far and true as a Gwethyn longbow,” He said, then paused. “They shall be dispatched as soon as I return to Harksmoor. You needn’t worry about feeding them; their rations will come directly by ship,” Gaewin seemed impressed by this quick thinking from his half-brother, nodding along with each of his words.
“Let it never be said that Gwethydd has ever been anything but loyal to the Empire. The sooner this business is over the better. When your family tears itself apart, it is wont to tear chunks off of my kingdom too,” Aethlar said grimly.
“I shall send word back to my homeland to prepare for their arrival then” Lynette chimed in. “We’ll gather enough furs for your men at the very least.” A smile formed on her lips. It was an honest surprise for a southerner to actually freely offer to send aid north.
“And maybe some Acithan steel weapons for your better warriors,” Lynette added after a moment. “Do tell me, do your men prefer swords, spears, or some other type of melee weapon?”
“We fight as skirmishers, usually, on the field,” Aethlar considered briefly for a moment. “Spears are common, but short-swords and hand-axes will not be misused if they are what is available,” He said after a moment’s contemplation. “I shall write the missive to my mother as soon as I arrive safely into the capital,”
Jakinius seemed genuinely impressed by this news, "Arch Elector Aethlar you do yourself and realm a service in this pledge. Even should my visit to the capital end without obtaining the majority vote. I shall still deem my mission a success knowing there are kings of the south such yourself who embody the spirit of this empire and are willing to do what is needed to safeguard her lands. Regardless of what may assail her."
The Great Warhird
Nordheim
King Guld Spleeneater
Craggan, 9th of Gerna | 1200 AU
"See how the crows circle..." - Yarlo Valarien
The cold winds born from the raging storm outside the homestead seemed like the screams of a thousand banshees. Having braved the winds to reach the remarkably warmer interior of the longhouse, King Guld ‘Spleeneater’ Redeagle made his way through the hall walking around the large fire pit, kicking his way past men still half asleep and wrapped in their furs. More than a few sleeping off a powerful hangover from their recent revelry. He smacked the head of one fool who was currently collapsed over the armrest of his throne. The lad mouthed an apology and stumbled to the ground. Good enough. The Jarl made a slow turn to take in the sight of the hall. Goblets, mugs, barrels once filled with mead- all were scattered here or there along with a couple of plates, forks, and knives. Most of the silverware having been plundered from the southern lands years back. Guld fell back into his wooden throne and rested his great bearded head on a fist as large as the heads of most men as he brooded over tomorrow's preparations for the reaving of the south.
Since the day Jarl Guld had crushed the previous King in a contest of arms- gutting the old fool with Guld’s trusted runesteel axe Epotosi- he had made inroads that had restored and united much of the Graeling tribe on the shores of the Black Sea. The warriors of the western shore had never been as strong as they were now. The Kurgans had been dealt with, the Vargs humbled, and now dozens of warriors had flocked to his banner to join his shield wall. Two years prior he had sailed far south, scything the southern shores and probing their defences. He had been surprised at how lax the south had become with their own war vessels. It seemed each month they were fewer and fewer on patrol. His only regret had been he had lacked the manpower to exploit this sudden weakness of the empire. It had been an opportunity he had promised himself he would never miss again.
He had managed to return north laden down with all manner of plunder those two years ago that he had managed to acquire through strength and cunning. With promises of wealth, honor, prestige, and the possibility of a fight worthy of Kregnihalla, dozens of clans had promised to pledge their own warriors to the great expedition. Along with practically all the thanes of his tribe. Every Jarl of the Graeling tribe had made the journey to Skar, the largest port on the west-northern shores. Such a gathering had not been seen in centuries, the south would never know what was coming for them. At that moment the great doors to his hall suddenly bent open again and forcefully enough that the doors smacked against the walls they were affixed to. Even if he had not been staring straight ahead he would have known who had entered his halls. Vigdrior Redeagle was the spitting image of her mother, and she held the same angry cast and strength of arm as did her father. Guld himself.
As tall as most southern men, her prowess in battle easily matched if not outstripped that of most warriors, and she possessed a skill with both axe and sheild that might impress even the great god Olric himself. Guld could not help but feel proud of his daughter's accomplishments...but also wary of them as well. Thankfully Vigdrior The Blood Raven seemed to have little ambition towards her father's crown. She had thus far remained the ever loyal daughter and thane. At least, until her father showed signs of weakness...
Yet such a time was far in the future by Guld's reckoning. At his daughter's back were her shield-maidens. Equally ferice looking warrioresses all of whom possessed no small skill at arms. Vigdrior made a face upon seeing the many men and women still prone about the great hall sleeping off their stupor. She made a beeline to her father, beating a few drunks out of the way with not so gentle kicks from her trollhide boots.
"Father," Vigdrior began once she was in comfortable earshot, "I've returned from Skrogbul. Jarl Frealaf of The Vargs has finally arrived with his promised war pledge. Some hundred longships have been spotted a snows shadow from the coast."
Guld perked up at this as he stood straighter in his seat, his mouth widening into a savage smile. "Jarl Frealaf has finally come true on his promise has he? The fool milk-drinker has kept me waiting for days. About damn time."
Frealaf was perhaps the youngest and newest Jarls to come into power in the western regions of Nordheim. A man young enough to desire to prove himself both in battle and as a leader. He was a Varg, true, but it was because of his new status Guld predicted he could trust the young Jarl to keep his promise to unite his warriors to the Warhird. It seemed Guld's instincts had been right after all. Things were proceeding along nicely. There was no other Jarl who held nearly as many ships in his fleet.
Vigdrior nodded once in agreement, "his timing is less than desirable but he has at least come through...as to King Styrmir Rimefrost and his giant kin, there has been no word."
Guld frowned but had expected as much. "Bah, the old fool can stay in his ice fortress then and wither away for all I care. With the Varg's we have the strength we need to set out at long last." Guld rose to his feet, cracking his neck as he did. "Send word to Haraldur, Ulfar and the other Wolfclaws! We will make the last preparations --for tomorrow, we sail at the blood of dawn."
The Heartlands
Valorin, 11th of Gerna | 1200 AU
Location: A days ride from North from Lalrial
The sun was but an orange line on the horizon when the company lead by Jakinius had made camp just a day's ride from the capital. The setting sun made long shadows of the stone hills and rocky outcroppings. The river basin known as the Ethereal Tributary flowed to the camp's north. Close enough to grant easy access to fresh water. The Velathi Mountain that housed the great Flame Keep of the Church of the Sacred flame was but three dozen leagues north across that same river. The grassy foothills that the party had made camp at the foot of acted as the defining border between the provinces Dreiben and Aglil, the latter better known as the Heartlands.
Their stay in Dreiben had been peaceful enough. A fine one in fact given the protection the bannerguard had extended. It had given Jakinius and the others time to heal their wounds and recover their strength following the desperate skirmish in the Lorewood. Olafgvar Kjaldsson was tending the camps fire. Burning a few pieces of deadwood and bushes he had managed to scavenge while having already set up the cooking pot above the meager flame. Metinnus had already ordered the men to pitch the tents while a small group went to collect water. They had chosen to build the fire in the midst of a small circle of small boulders.
Tents circled around the fire facing inwards toward the warming fire. The horses had been tied to a pair of small trees off to the west of camp. There they enjoyed a rest of their own as they fed upon the rich grass around them. Tired himself from a long day of riding Jakinius plumped down on one of the stone seats close to the fire. He cast his gaze skyward and noted the dark clouds. Knowing soon rain would follow. He was glad for the leather tents bought while they had stayed in Dreiben. The animal hide would do well in keeping out the rainfall. He pulled out his waterskin and drained the last of the liquid within. He frowned at the empty vessel and stored it back at his waist.
The sun was low but it was just dark enough to see a few stars beginning to appear in the skies above. A cool breeze wafted by him and he instinctively drew his dark grey cloak tighter about himself. He flexed his right leg while he relaxed; noting that there was less pain and cramping in the muscles where he had been stabbed by the Narkak spear. The healing had done him much good it would seem. Still the scars would remain with him for the rest of his life, all a testament to his will to survive as well as Ra-hun-ru's protection in battle so he would wear them proudly.
Lynette approached the fire and, without saying a word, sat beside Jakinius. She silently stared into the flames, watching them dance and sway in the soft breeze. Their image drew forth memories decades old, memories that she normally didn’t think about. After a few moments, she shook her head, forcing her thoughts away from those memories.
“You should have left us,” She said. There was no guilt or condemnation in her voice. Her tone was that used simply to state a fact, the same one she might use to say one plus one is two or that the sky is blue. Her face too seemed to be perfectly neutral as she stared into the fire before them.
Jakinius eyes fell on the horizon as he watched the sun slip out of view, his face unreadable but his gaze intense. Still looking ahead he said simply, "I could not. It has never been in me to run nor abandon a friend or comrade in need..." His voice was a quiet high whisper but his tone held a kind of conviction that bespoke strength.
“You need to value your own life more” Lynette said with a frown. She looked over her shoulder as she heard someone approach them from behind.
“I,” The Valkyrie said as she walked towards Lynette and Jakinius, “am quite glad you didn’t abandon me, regardless of what I might have said at the time.” Her injury seemed to have mostly healed, although she still had a slight limp. The Valkyrie rendered a deep bow towards Jakinius before taking a seat on the opposite side of the fire.
“Who would lead the Empire’s armies should you fall Jakinius?” Lynette asked.
Jakinius looked down to his hand, his fingers slowly forming into a fist. Testing the feeling in his arm since his recovery, "perhaps it was reckless. Yet I hardly had that on my mind in the heat of the moment." He offered a half-smile, "still I don't think I am so unique as to be irreplaceable."
At that moment, Metinnus came wandering over with a pack over one arm. "I'd disagree on that milord-- the north needs men such as you like never before." The Lokhagos sat down upon one of the stones and opened the pack he carried. He pulled out several objects wrapped in a sheet like material. He handed one to Jakinius and offered them to the Valkyrie as well as Lynette. "Baked bread-- the Gwethyns use them as rations. Should last us until we reach Lalrial. I don't fancy our chances in catching game out here."
Both women accepted the offered bread with a smile. Lynette immediately began to tear pieces off to eat. The Valkyrie set her’s aside for a moment as she addressed Jakinius. “My lord” She began, “I’m afraid I must apologize to you for not only failing to introduce myself, but also taking some measures to hide my identity from you.” Lynette shot her friend a are-you-sure look which the Valkyrie ignored.
“My name is Oktavia Kovacs” She said as she rose from her seat. “And I am the Arch Commander of the Sisters of the Silver Shield.” She rendered a low bow for Jakinius as she continued “I apologize for not introducing myself earlier, but I felt it necessary in order to obtain an untainted view of you as a person.”
“I am also at fault for deceiving you” Lynette set aside her own meal so she could stand and bow to Justinius as well. “I wanted Oktavia to have no doubt about who you truly were.”
Jakinius raised a hand and shook his head, "no need to explain, but I am glad to finally have a name. Referring to you as Valkyrie all the time was getting a tad awkward." He gave a light chuckle as he took a wrapped loaf of bread from Metinnus. "I am glad you trust me enough to be open with me. I hope this means your view of me is a positive one," he raised an eyebrow though his smile and tone hinted he would not hold any honest judgment against them.
“I feel inclined to speak well of you in the future” Oktavia allowed as both she and Lynette sat again. “And I can see why my predecessor had nothing but praise for you.” She looked at the fire thoughtfully as she bit into her loaf of bread. Lynette smiled back at Jakinius before changing the subject.
“So tell me” The princess began, “how fares the missus? I imagine you can’t wait to see her again.”
At the mention of his wife a genuine smile spread across Jakinius's face. "There are only two forces that could call me back from my duties in the north. Anastazie is easily the most powerful of those reasons I return to the capital. I even admit she is one thing I look forward to when I return." He looked up at the stars once more seemingly lost in thought.
Olaf mumbled a curse as he stopped stroking the fire, apparently displeased with the size. "Blasted bush makes for terrible tinder." He sighed as he got to his feet and took one of the loafs of bread which he promptly began to devour after sitting down on one of the larger boulders. Metinnus only shook his head as he turned his attention back to the conversation. "And what of you Lady Lynette? I hear you have a brother in the capital, forgive the assumption, but I assume that would be a nice reunion between family I'd hope."
“It will be” Lynette answered with a warm smile. “Though I must admit that I fear for my little brother. A lot.” She let out a long sigh. “I fear that some day he’ll earn the wrath of a powerful lord and then that’ll be the last I hear of him.” She shook her head. “At least, he seems to enjoy the capital, for what it's worth.”
“On the subject of wives,” Oktavia began as she poked at the fire with a stick. “Aren’t you past due to be married?” She just barely failed to keep a mischievous smile from her face.
“By Ra!” Lynette rolled her eyes. “I hardly have the time nor desire for that. And what about you?” Oktavia’s only response was a shrug. “I can’t imagine what sort of hell the north would turn into if I allowed by older brother free reign after father passes away.”
Metinnus hummed in concord, "I have only heard of Elek Zarand from word of mouth. I could judge the man himself without meeting him first,"
Eyes still off in the distance Jakinius offered his input, "I met him once." He turned his gaze to the others. "When I was stationed for a time in Acitha we met briefly, he was... aloof to say the least. His talents would ill fit a throne I fear."
Lynette nodded in agreement. “My brother is better suited to reading and painting, not leading. Unfortunately, my father either doesn’t care or is unwilling to see this.” She let out a long sigh. “Elek was always his favorite.”
“I will not send my sisters under battle under his command” Oktavia stated simply. Lynette frowned but nodded in understanding.
“I am hoping that, with enough time, I can convince either my father or Elek himself that it would be in the best interests of all involved that he does not rule Acitha. I hope it's not too presumptuous of me” Lynette gave Jakinius a pointed look, “to assume that any future emperor would also seek to keep Elek from the throne as well.”
Oktavia made a noise of disagreement before saying “The few times I’ve tried bringing the subject up to His Majesty’s attention I was pointedly ignored. I wouldn’t hold my breath that he’ll listen to reason.”
"Meddling in the affairs of the provinces in their choice of Arch Electors has ever been a messy issue. One that is always a fine rope to walk for any Emperor in decades past. A rope from which he might be hung if he was not careful." Jakinius dark silver eyes met with Lynette's, "Yet the realms of the north are our bulwarks against the Nordheim and it is in the interest of all that they remain strong. Title of Emperor or not, you would have my support, Lynette. Acitha not only needs but deserves a strong ruler. I can think of none better than yourself." His words were from the heart, and any could tell he wholly meant them.
Lynette averted her gaze to the ground to hide the blush forming on her face. A few golden locks of hair fell over her face as if to shield it from sight. After a moment, she replied, “I’m honored to hear you say that.”
Oktavia simply rolled her eyes as she stood up. “Yea. I say something along those lines to her and she ignores me.” She stretched and yawned before adding “Come on Metinnus. Let’s go and futily look for a deer to murder or something.”
“I ignore you” Lynette said without looking up, “because you say it so often.”
Metinnus seemed to roll that idea over for a moment before shrugging, "Aye, can't hurt, If I have to live off bread for one more night I'm liable to eat' my own arm."
Olafgvar laughed, "you have never been much of the hunter Metinnus! I suppose I can teach'ya a thing or two. If yer lucky, ye might find a rabbit to spite at least."
East Empire Company Office, Lalrial, Imperial Heartlands
Ixyan, the 8th of Gerna 1200 AU | 08.03.1200
Ixyan, the 8th of Gerna 1200 AU | 08.03.1200
The balcony of Ralltene's estate offered a lovely scenic view of the port side that overlooked the shining Gold Gulf. The refreshing smell of seawater wafted up from the piers bellow. Just far enough away that they were not too strong but close enough to be noticeable. Exotic plants from the Kawachian isles, as well as a few choice, plants from far away Lointaine. They gave the deck a refreshing look that any man or woman would appreciate. Resting has hands on the balconies railing Ralltene decided to enjoy the vista as he waited for his visitor. On a small round table off to his right was a single bottle of a purple vintage wine imported from Xandrian that was carefully blended with the more common Luzerne wine for a unique and flavorful kick. Two tall glasses rested beside the bottle said bottle while Ralltene waited.
As he did he reflected on what he knew of the Prime Magistrate of House Tlaerie. There's was a vote that could easily swing to any of the candidates, but it was one that was easy enough to gain the prince knew. However, he would need to walk carefully, for to side with House Tlaerie blindly would alienate House Swiftwave. Hence, he believed, none of the other contenders had yet courted with the Tlaerie. Still, if Ralltene sources were correct. It was now the perfect moment to strike a deal with the Tlaerie's as quickly as possible. In them, was the rare opportunity to swing two votes in one bold move.
Ralltene smiled. His sister might be a competent stateswoman. However, she would never match him when it came to reading the changing tides. The sound of someone clearing their throat alerted the prince to his aid's arrival. Alceste Léger stood with his arms behind his back and bowed his head as a way of apology for the interruption. "Milord, I present Lady Lae'Vesi Trielia, Prime Magistrate of House Tlaerie."
After the aid spoke a woman passed by him to enter the room. She had long golden hair and silver skin, features that might remind the imperial claimant of his lady love but otherwise she differed. Lae’Vesi was dressed in the fashion of house Tlaerie and vaelie highborn, many strips of silken cloth wrapped around her body. But this time the were not so revealing and the vaelie woman looked visibly nervous at having been summoned before someone so important.
“Prince Ralltene, you honor me with your summons.” Lae’Vesi began, her voice soft and lilting with a musical undertone but a faint one as she bowed her head and bent at the waist in respect for his position. “How may I serve you?”
Ralltene offered his most disarming smile as he raised a hand, "No need to be so formal Lady Lae’Vesi, this is an unofficial visit you might say. Though I would be misleading you to say ou discussion will not revolve around that of politics." He gestured to the small round table. "Can I interest you in a glass of Xandrian wine? You will have to forgive me, but I did not know your preferred brand so I took a leap of faith."
Such was partly true, for Ralltene had made sure to learn all he could of the Prime Magistrate before hand. Feigning ignorance, however, gave him just another tool at his disposal. It was sometimes better to not let on how informed you were about other nobles.
“If you wish.” Lae’Vesi nodded and straightened up though she looked nervous still. She moved over to the small table that Ralltene had pointed at. “I am sure anything you have chosen will be fine milord.” Her voice was soft and subservient, perhaps she was cowed by someone so important.
Ralltene looks to his aid who in turn bowed his head and left. Walking to the table Ralltene retrieved a glass and carefully poured out a measure of the wine in question. He handed it to Lae’Vesi with a practiced smile aimed to put her at ease. "Well, I do hope you enjoy it, in such uncertain times we must enjoy even the little things."
The prince then poured himself a glass, "So Lady Lae’Vesi, I admit to seeing the capital far too little during my time governing Lochbridge and managing the East Empire. Have you been a Prime Magistrate in Lalrial long?"
“Only for the last few months milord, Eril’Nisin Nirellia just retired from his post and I am his replacement. I am still learning how to fit in here.” The vaelie woman took the glass from Ralltene and took a sip from it, a smile showing as her lips curled upwards at the taste that many would have found sickeningly sweet. “I hope I have not behaved improperly.”
Ralltene waved a hand in the air, "oh no, from what I do hear you've been doing a fine job when my late father was in power." The prince looked out over the balcony at the crashing waves at the sea as if lost in thought. He looked back to Lae’Vesi for a moment, "when you look out onto this fair city what do you see?"
Lae’Vesi looked relieved for a moment though she hid it quickly and looked out at the water and the waves as well. “I see a magnificent city full of people. The heart of the empire that we have to preserve. For it is our duty to be ever vigilant, the watchful fires that burn against the dark.” She spoke words paraphrased from the creed of the Argentum and house Tlaerie despite her not being a direct member of the house.
"Quite true, but see a city- no- a realm full of potential..." Ralltene tone changed to a harder one. "But...not all that glitters is gold as the saying goes... upon those very waters far to the south lies a province that has long festered on the grapevine. Threatening to poison the whole. A rot I fear that has blinded the Emperors of the past. My father sadly among them."
Lae’Vesi visibly perked up at that statement. This was something she knew how to handle, it had been stressed how important her role in lobbying for the Immolation of Kawachia was to be during her education. “We have often advised your predecessors of the risks that the cancer there holds to the realm. Even the smallest infection can spread and doom its host. And this one is very dire.” Her voice’s musical undertones had perked up as well.
Ralltene took a sip of his wine, the set of his eyes revealing a stern resolve. "An apt description, given what I know of them now. I was never overly concerned in days of yore. Still my father learned his love of the sea from them until he wasted days away sailing the oceans leaving the realm to deteriorate over the years."
"Still, the Swiftwaves are a well-established house. Ones who no doubt have learned over the years to hide their less..savory interest from the public. Not even an emperor could move against an Arch Elector without cause... yet there are those skilled in finding out the sins of men."
“We seek only to preserve the empire and protect the faith.” Lae’Vesi replied. “But a cancer so long allowed to spread and grow could be resilient and fight against the cure.”
Ralltene nodded, "Quite true, so steps must be taken. The Argentum officially given the right resources it needs- yet even before that. Someone who sits on the gilded throne and is aware of such a cancer is required. I fear many of those who are eligible are... unconcerned with the soul of this empire."
“And you have the interests of the souls who would otherwise meet damnation in the sacred fires at heart milord?” Lae’Vesi asked, wanting to make sure she understood correctly. “You would take up the knife and cut out the cancer in our realm?”
"I would simply do as is required of me, using every tool at my disposal as any ruler should." Ralltene turned his gaze to her. “So can I count on the support of House Tlaerie in seeing an Emperor installed who is willing to do what is needed?”
“Gladly. We have waited for an emperor willing to excise the cancer from the land for so long.” Lae’Vesi could hardly contain her excitement at the prospect.
Temple of Kammeth, Lalrial, Imperial Heartlands
Ixyan, the 8th of Gerna 1200 AU - 08.03.1200
Ixyan, the 8th of Gerna 1200 AU - 08.03.1200
The great hallowed halls of the Temple of Kammeth within Lalrial was filled with many of the faithful. Crowds of people having gathered to lay witness to the new voice of the gods as they were officially given the title of Arch Dawnbringer. On the large podium at its center stood the great lit brazier, standing before it stood Noluretinaus and two of his fellow lords of fire; each standing to either side of him. The red robed and hooded figure to Noluretinaus's right held a red-crowned scepter fashioned from silver and gold topped with a ruby gem. The robed woman to his left carried in her arms the caped mantle of the Arched Dawnbringer. Raised in a half circle positioned on the podium was a stadium fashioned in tiers of steps- from here the choir stood as they chanted in a high whisper the songs of the holy texts in perfect unison.
Raising his powerful voice so that it echoed through the halls Noluretinaus began his speech, "Today we ordain the chosen new voice of Kammeths, we recognize Filmethi Dalfire as the Arch Dawnbringer of the Church of the Sacred Flame. May she guide the faithful in these uncertain times,"
Noluretinaus gestured to his right side signaling to Elder Reband, who in turn offered a smile to Filmethi as he handed the staff of the Arch Dawnbringer to her. The staff was a beautifully crafted piece of work that was emblazoned with holy symbols and intricate runes fashioned from gold or silver. "The rod of office of the Arch Dawnbringer," Reband said with a hint of rehearsal in his words. "May it serve as both a symbol of your position and a reminder of the protection granted by Kammeth."
The silver skinned and golden haired woman who had once been known as Tsi’Ri Tlaerie and who now carried a new name from the divine fires above stretched out a hand to take the staff from Reband. Her hand slowly closed around the firm wooden shaft of the staff and a smile that was still very much like Tsi’Ri’s old smiles bloomed on her beautifully sculpted the face. “Thank you, Brother Reband.” She spoke softly but her voice echoed in the vast temple.
“We all may doubt ourselves, for we are but mortal. But we must never doubt the one above, who saves us and preserves our souls in his holy fire.” Filmethi Dalfire raised her voice as she turned to the assembled masses. “Too often we try to delude ourselves into thinking that we are infallible, that our power and strength comes from ourselves alone instead of relying on his might and acknowledging his role.”
She raised the staff up in a silver hand as she continued. “Many have said that doubt is wrong, that to doubt you is to be weak. But I say this. Had I stood before his fires with pride, had I thought myself worthy to take this role the flames would have consumed me. It is because I saw my place, and respected his will that I stand before you now. I ask you all to look within yourselves, can you truly see your flaws? Are you honest with yourselves? The first step to true faith is to know oneself and then to embrace how the gods above can make us more than we could ever be alone, how they could find us, the weak and flawed vessels that we are, worthy of their favor and love.”
“Those who can look within and see their flaws have taken that first step to true faith. Humility opens the door where pride locks it shut, the humble who know their place are richer in faith than the proud who think themselves great. But how can we know the truth in the hearts of men? How can we truly know if someone is humble and pure in faith? How can we know they are not hiding their true pride, their true arrogance away like a cancer, seeking to uplift false gods or worse to elevate themselves to the level of our creators?” Her voice rose in volume and the old vaelie strains that twined through it though rusty still made it musical and pure even now.
Filmethi Dalfire brought down the staff, a ringing sound echoing through the temple as it struck the stone below. “Fear not, for Kammeth has given us a way. Just as I survived the holy fires and stand before you now, so shall the righteous and true in faith survive them in the times to come. We must be vigilant, we must never falter, for the evils of pride and self-deification are always present, sneaking into the hearts of the faithful to corrupt them.”
Then she fell silent for a moment as if she was gathering herself. “We do not fear the flames, for the flames are our salvation.” As she spoke her robes seemed to shimmer with a heat haze. “We do not fear the flames, for the flames are our salvation.” Now there was smoke around her. “We do not fear the flames, for the flames are our salvation!” And the fire came, blooming around her, but not burning as she stood in the center of the fiery halo. “The righteous need not fear the flames for the flames will show the truth and bring us salvation! But the wicked, the cancerous sinners who fester and seek to uplift false idols, to them the flames will bring damnation!” Then the flames that surrounded her began to fade.
The gathered assembly cheered as one at the moving words of their new Arch Dawnbringer. A few nodding their heads in agreement while others merely went along with the flow. Perhaps waiting to judge her based on her actions in the coming dark days. The simple folk could pray to their gods for guidance, but all men more easily walked in faith when another more pious than they lead the way.
Soon the mantle of her station was carefully placed upon her shoulders and the choir began to sing a song to lift the hearts of the faithful in this most sacred of moments. The Arch Dawnbringer had finally been chosen, and now the realm merely waited to see who would lead their nation as a whole....
@TheMoatedGrange So looked over your NS, this is one of those moments my job is made easy given how well you constructed everything.
Gwethydd approved.
Gwethydd approved.
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