The Republic of Erimir
Current Leader/Government: Grand Sheriff Beryl Moss (Elective Republic)
Settlements Owned: 3
Provinces Owned: 1
Population: 180,000
Standing Army: - <Erimir Infantry>/<750>/<In a fort along the eastern border><Morale 100%>
- <Republic Musketeers>/<250>/<Erimir>/<Morale 100%>
- <Provincial Militia>/<1000>/<Patrolling the countryside; also stationed in Sweetwater and Elmshire>/<85%>
Lumber
Exports: Cattle, Gunpowder
Wealth: Average
Alliances:Trade Pacts: Kingdom of Asax, Kingdom of Belmorn
Cease Fires:
The Delegate ReturnsIt was a rainy day, though a pleasant sort of rain, precisely the sort of weather Beryl enjoyed. The caress of raindrops on her tired feet went well with the scent of the lilacs. She was sitting outside on porch before her home, a humble burrow with an expansive flower garden, reading to her daughter about the legendary halfling minstrel-hero Tapper Underfoot.
"Now, Tapper was
very frightened," continued Beryl, tugging her daughter a little closer, "but he wasn't about to give up hope. He stopped to think about what difficulties he was facing. He was alone in the dark, and his sling was missing. Water dripped from the ceiling of the cave. Bats shrieked. There were gnolls somewhere, and they were very hungry gnolls at that."
"I hate gnolls," muttered Beowyn. She had a lisp which she didn't seem to be growing out of, making the 's' sound more like a 'th.'
"Oh, they're not ALL bad," said Beryl, looking upward. "But when they're angry or hungry, they're just mean, and that's if they're nice."
"Were these gnolls mean?"
"Very," agreed Beryl. "But my mood would be a touch fearsome, too, if I missed dinner, breakfast and brunch. But let's go back to the story, shall we?" Beryl reached over and turned the page. "After having counted his troubles, Tapper then counted his blessings: his sword, his health, and his good ears. Bravely, he delved back into the dark--"
"How could he be brave if he was so scared?" asked Beowyn curiously.
"That's simple. You can't be brave without being afraid, first. Being brave is feeling fear and fighting on despite it."
Miss Moss was about to continue when she noticed a figure running through the rain toward her house. Instinct commanded her, and she snatched for the sword she had laying against the bench. Her hand quickly relaxed when she saw it was simply one of the provincial messengers.
"Word from Belmorn, High Sheriff!" panted the man breathlessly. "The delegate returns! He's struck up a trade agreement and - the rest is for your ears only."
"Very well. Who sent you, and where is the delegate now?"
"In Fort Andal, on the other side of town."
"I know where the fort is," Beryl said with amusement. She stood up, resting a hand on Beowyn's shoulder. "Little lamb, I need you to go on in now. Let old Miss Fenfoot know where I'm off to, alright?"
"Yes, momma," answered her daughter quietly, looking up at Beryl with regret. "Do you HAVE to go right now?"
"It's my job," answered Beryl. "And remember to practice your letters before you go to bed. I'll see you tonight, dearest."
* * * * *"...and that's when he smiled and said we had an agreement," finished the ambassador, folding his arms over his chest with a triumphant look on his face. The warm, crackling fire seemed to cast that expression in bronze.
"Splendid news all around, then!" proclaimed Jan cheerfully, dabbing his handkerchief against his puffy face to remove the wet bits of citrus on his chin.
He has a very
healthy hunger, Beryl thought. "Successful negotiations with such a capable bunch of warriors is an excellent development."
"That
is excellent news," mused Sheriff Moss "That was quick thinking on your part, Ambassador Tallfellow. So, we have an accord of sorts with Belmorn, though their Queen may yet have a differing opinion on us, and trade has been established... And we have a
festival to prepare."
"Yes, High Sheriff; for the human queen's coronation."
I wonder what sort of ruler this new queen will be, Beryl wondered at her mention.
So little has been said about her, and she could turn out to be a wonderful, amiable neighbor... I hope..."We should be able to prepare a festival with no difficulty," declared Jan with a flourish of his hands. "Ale! Beef! Imported foodstuffs, if we're lucky! We can host a circus, perform daring feats with bulls in the a ring, and perhaps allow the children to pet such animals for the first time."
"And the
dance," said Beryl with a grin, standing from her seat by the fireplace. "And the contests of poetry and limericks and stone-throwing and fireworks... It might even be a good time to remind the world the world that halflings can use swords, too. The competitors from Sweetwater's last Contest of Duelists would love a chance to meet some non-halfling opponents again, I think."
"And you as well, I'm sure." Jan wiped his sweaty cheeks before dropping a grape into his mouth.
"Without a doubt!"
My friends know me too well. "It's a rare opportunity to excuse myself from paperwork under the guise of 'State Affairs,' and to do so by practicing my swordsmanship no less!" The both of them laughed, and after a moment the ambassador joined in.
"You know, Mister Tallfellow, you're allowed to speak as well," noted Jan casually. "It's rather strange to have you standing there without a word to be said. Besides, you're an educated and apparently very talented man; your opinion could be useful."
"Oh. Thank you," the ambassador said, reaching for the grapes. "May I?"
"You need to ask?" said Jan with a cheerful squint. He and the ambassador both took a handful of the violet fruit.
"Festivals aren't free," noted the ambassador, seating himself in one of the chairs. "And this is one meant to be worthy of a Queen's coronation. How will we handle the costs?"
"Well, the festival will earn SOME money," began Jan. "Most of the events will be paid for by whoever wishes to own a booth, and they'll be there to make a profit. Of course, we'll pay for some events, and we'll need to have some free food at this fair. Nothing puts a smile on a child's face like a warm belly, hm?"
"Of course," Beryl agreed with a nod. "Some will come to sell their own meals, but we can offer warm loaves of buttered bread and some tall kegs of harvest ale for free. And I'll be sure someone comes and sells some of our famous jerky."
"So, this all
will cost the state some of its wealth," noted Jan, "but that will just keep us from expanding the economy for a while. It won't hurt us, my boy, don't you worry."
"And the only news from the north has been good news," added the High Sheriff, toying with her sword's scabbard. "Hopefully it continues to go well." She paused, frowning. "But I believe there's something you both should see." She stepped over to the round table in the center of the stone room and set her hand on the map. The others stood up from their seats to approach.
"Southern Orysson is consumed by civil war, as you both must have heard. Matters have not smoothed over so quickly there as they have here; many nations are still in a state of strife. We're likely to see a few orcish raids from Dara at this time. Hopefully, the state of Dara will stabilize soon, but..."
"You want orcs to form a nation?" asked Tallfellow, puzzled. Jan seemed surprised as well.
"I would rather be able to negotiate with them than not," she explained plainly. "Besides, not all the orcs of Dara are slavers, unlike those of Elslen and distant Vanguar. It is entirely possible we may be able to find a friend among one of the clans... or an ally. With word of centaurs, pirates, raiders, and a new Empire rising in the south, we may need such a friend."
"Will they take kindly to our plans for Elslen? They are kin, you know." Jan furrowed his brow.
"I doubt they'll take it kindly or unkindly," chimed Tallfellow. "Humans, orcs, elves... They have never needed to depend so much on each other as we halflings have. They fight each other as often as they fight people of other races. We may have to carefully watch who rises to power in the Dara region, however."
"Should we intervene?" wonders Jan. "I mean, not now; we're not ready to fight
two battles yet; one is quite enough for me. But perhaps we should be ready to help someone out there if we have such vested interest, hm?"
"We can't know that without knowing what powers are fighting there," Beryl mused, tucking her scabbard back into place on her belt. "We'll need to send some of our best scouts to give the region a look-see, scouts who won't be captured by bandits or slavers. It's still a dangerous mission, so we'll have to make certain we only send volunteers..."
"I'll go," Tallfellow said. "And though he may be a bit on the shaky side, I'd like to see if my bodyguard to Belmorn, Kipp, is willing to go. He has good instincts, and he noticed the elves before they came for us."
"That is a very surprising suggestion, sir," Beryl said, raising her eyebrows at Tallfellow. "You've only just gotten home from your mission to Belmorn and you're already ready for another? Don't you have a family to go home to?"
"I never married, Sheriff," he answered, glancing away momentarily. "And I enjoy the open road anyway."
"You must have faerie blood in you," chuckled Jan, "or maybe elf blood. Well, if your guardsman agrees, that makes two of you. You'll want a company of six or so for the environment you'll be heading into..."
"I know a few stalwart souls that would be willing, I think," Beryl said. "One of them is a close friend of mine, actually; one of the duelists I mentioned. She's quite the daredevil, and I think she'd enjoy the possibility of outsmarting orcish bandits. Besides, she's just as likely to run off and do that by herself already."
"I'll be ready to leave as soon as tomorrow morning," Tallfellow said.
"Give it a week. Rest up first. It'll give us time to find the best halflings for the job."
"As you wish," he murmured in answer.
