The Five Kings of Winter [IC Thread]

[ApplePieistan]

Alissa went back to the thieves guild, trying to get away from Ril as much as he wanted to get away from her. When she made it back to the city, she looked around to make sure she wasn't being followed. After looking around some, she went to sell all the clothes and wine to the thieves guild. She then went to a tavern with the other thieves where she bought a mug of beer and told them inaccurate and exaggerated stories of the theft. She told a few skillful and successful thieves the following story "So I was at the castle of the west, you know, the richest place on earth. I knew that they were rich and I wanted some of that wealth for myself. After looking around the perimeter for a way in, I found a back window that led straight to the king's bedroom. See, he was asleep in bed, but you know me, my movements are akin to a candlelight flicker. I raided his drawers and let me tell you something. One of those full king's outfits could pay my rent. Now, obviously I didn't get the full value from trading it with my contacts, but there were a lot of clothes. I think I can pay rent for at least a couple months with that one. And guess what? I made it to the wine cellar and stole some of those expensive wine bottles they have. Boy, I hit the jackpot today!"
One of the master thieves said "Did anyone see you?"
Alissa paused for a second, sipped some booze, and said "No, no one saw me. I made a clean getaway over there." She leans back in her chair and sips her drink some more.

[Kaidou]

Grovegarden, Kingdom of the West

As Brand and Barius neared the farming town, they began to notice the once snow filled ground be replaced by field upon field. As they drew even closer they saw the main settlement, a array of thirty buildings of varying reason, in the center of town lied a building that stood out, unlike the mostly wooden community, it was a building of Elven Marble, Ashen Manor, before they could get any closer, they were stopped by a guard with the sigil of Ashen on his armor,

"Name? Business?" the guard asked looking at the two

Waking Brand up, Barius dismounted, walking respectfully but cautiously towards the guard. He held his javelin in a non-aggressive manner.

"My name is Arijens Barius. The boy's name is Goraneus D. Brand. We are trying to find a mage, because he is sick with an illness that doctors can't cure. Please let us through!"

Barius pleaded with the guard, nearly dropping the javelin on the floor. Brand slowly got off the horse, pulling the coat over his shoulders and standing just a few paces behind Barius.

[Everhall]

Grovegarden, Kingdom of the West

As Brand and Barius neared the farming town, they began to notice the once snow filled ground be replaced by field upon field. As they drew even closer they saw the main settlement, a array of thirty buildings of varying reason, in the center of town lied a building that stood out, unlike the mostly wooden community, it was a building of Elven Marble, Ashen Manor, before they could get any closer, they were stopped by a guard with the sigil of Ashen on his armor,

"Name? Business?" the guard asked looking at the two

Waking Brand up, Barius dismounted, walking respectfully but cautiously towards the guard. He held his javelin in a non-aggressive manner.

"My name is Arijens Barius. The boy's name is Goraneus D. Brand. We are trying to find a mage, because he is sick with an illness that doctors can't cure. Please let us through!"

Barius pleaded with the guard, nearly dropping the javelin on the floor. Brand slowly got off the horse, pulling the coat over his shoulders and standing just a few paces behind Barius.

"Hmmm... enter. You will find our Head Mage, Viciro Ashen, in Ashen Manor. Don't. Make. Any. Sudden movements." the guard replied pointed towards the marble home

[Kaidou]

"Thank you so much."

Barius turned back, gesturing at Brand to follow him. Taking Asystole's stirrups, the one legged Golden Lion walked through the immaculate streets of Grovegarden, towards that mystical marble house where the mage Viciro Ashen lived.

"This is it, Brand! We're going to heal you! You won't have to kill yourself anymore!"

The boy simply remained silent, continuing his slow walk down the streets towards the Ashen Manor.

Eventually, the three of them reached the manor. It was a magnificent building, carved out of immaculately white marble that glimmered numinously in the sunlight, unmolested by the abnormal snow that had blanketed the rest of the world. Stepping up to the door, Barius knocked on it gently, his stomach churning in excitement and anxiety.

"Mr. Viciro? Are you in? May we ask a favour of you?"

[Everhall]

"Thank you so much."

Barius turned back, gesturing at Brand to follow him. Taking Asystole's stirrups, the one legged Golden Lion walked through the immaculate streets of Grovegarden, towards that mystical marble house where the mage Viciro Ashen lived.

"This is it, Brand! We're going to heal you! You won't have to kill yourself anymore!"

The boy simply remained silent, continuing his slow walk down the streets towards the Ashen Manor.

Eventually, the three of them reached the manor. It was a magnificent building, carved out of immaculately white marble that glimmered numinously in the sunlight, unmolested by the abnormal snow that had blanketed the rest of the world. Stepping up to the door, Barius knocked on it gently, his stomach churning in excitement and anxiety.

"Mr. Viciro? Are you in? May we ask a favour of you?"

The doors to the manor opened, a young elf, probably in his 80s (Kinda young for Elfs) dressed in the grandest apperal for Mages,

"Yes? Whos asking?" the mage asked looking down at Barius and Brand (Elfs are extremely tall)

[Kaidou]

The doors to the manor opened, a young elf, probably in his 80s (Kinda young for Elfs) dressed in the grandest apperal for Mages,

"Yes? Whos asking?" the mage asked looking down at Barius and Brand (Elfs are extremely tall)

Barius looked up at the elf, who stood around three heads taller than him. "May we come in?" he asked. "This isn't something we'd want to discuss in public." He looked about him nervously, a few other people around the place looking at the trio curiously.

[Everhall]

The doors to the manor opened, a young elf, probably in his 80s (Kinda young for Elfs) dressed in the grandest apperal for Mages,

"Yes? Whos asking?" the mage asked looking down at Barius and Brand (Elfs are extremely tall)

Barius looked up at the elf, who stood around three heads taller than him. "May we come in?" he asked. "This isn't something we'd want to discuss in public." He looked about him nervously, a few other people around the place looking at the trio curiously.

"Of course, come in." Viciro motioned them inside of the Manor. The interior was just as magnificent as the inside, there were a variety of servants and laborers performing various tasks in the manor. But one elf stood out, clad in Elven Armor with a Durrendal Steel sword at his side, he seemed to be another member of the Ashen Family

[Kaidou]

After handing Asystole over to the elvish attendants to be brought to the stable, Barius and Brand went inside the manor, the great doors closing behind them. Barius faced the elf for a moment, before finally breaking the silence. "You see… he…" Barius stuttered, looking over nervously at Brand. "He…" Barius could not continue.

The room was silent for a moment, as Barius choked, shiftily gazing about at different parts of the room. How was he to explain this? There was no way of knowing whether those elves would take kindly to whatever the boy had to say.

That moment, Brand looked up, his eyes still partially shadowed by his white hair. Unbuttoning his shirt rapidly, the boy threw his tunic and his fur coat onto the floor, revealing the scars that riddled his torso. The room fell silent.

"I'm the son of the sorcerer Hari; I'm sure all of you have heard of him. From the moment I was born, he has done nothing but torture me, day after day, week after week. He would drown me, set me on fire, chain me to the ceilings, slap me, kick me, spit on me, cut me open…"

"All this, he claimed was for my own good." Here, the boy's tone became darker, more sarcastic, more spiteful. " "Ooh son, I'm doing this for your own good" "Ooh, you won't understand it now" "Ooh, you'll have so many benefits and abilities in the future". Well, he's given me absolutely fuck all!" He spat out the last two syllables with such anger that Barius, sitting on the stool next to him, turned his head away for a brief moment.

"But most of all… He did not love me. Nor did he love my mother; he slowly cut her open and removed her insides until she died. He was not a human. He was a beast. Dirt! And completely deserving of the slow, painful, fiery death that I gave to him as my parting gift." Brand looked up at the elf mage, who stood stoically nearby, watching. He clenched his fist, a tiny tongue of magical blue fire licking his bony, veined fist. His amber irises glinted fiercely.

The room was silent for a moment, before the boy continued, the fire on his fist extinguished.

"I want one of two things; one, that I can be made to forget what my "father" has done to me, or two, that I may die."

[Everhall]

Viciro was speechless, his shocked yet concerned face reflected the tension of the room,

"I... don't know what to-" before Viciro could finish,

"Hari the Accursed, Hari the Gifted, Hari the Beast. Now thats a new one. The Beast. My brother was one of his many colleges at the Mage's College." Alyari interrupted expression unchanged

"Yes... now as I was saying, I really don't know what to say, Brand. So... is there a reason you called of my services?" the mage asked

[Kaidou]

"Are you able to help me come to terms with what has happened?"

That moment, Brand showed, for the first time, a glimmer of emotion, as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Picking up the coat, the boy draped it back around his shoulders like a cape. "I ask because you're a mage; therefore, you should have something that can at least wipe my memory or dull it a little. If not…" He fiercely wiped the single droplet from his eye and took another stool, before sitting down violently, while still maintaining eye contact with the elf mage.

At the same time, Barius stood up, beckoning to Alyari to come aside just for a moment. "Your brother knew his father?" he asked, rather excitedly and with a trace of perturbation. "Do you know what the man was like?"

[Everhall]

"Are you able to help me come to terms with what has happened?"

That moment, Brand showed, for the first time, a glimmer of emotion, as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Picking up the coat, the boy draped it back around his shoulders like a cape. "I ask because you're a mage; therefore, you should have something that can at least wipe my memory or dull it a little. If not…" He fiercely wiped the single droplet from his eye and took another stool, before sitting down violently, while still maintaining eye contact with the elf mage.

At the same time, Barius stood up, beckoning to Alyari to come aside just for a moment. "Your brother knew his father?" he asked, rather excitedly and with a trace of perturbation. "Do you know what the man was like?"

Viciro

"Although I am not as skilled in illusion magic, I'll see what I can do, I may still have some of my old study books laying around...." Viciro replied looking through a bookcase beside him

Alyari

The elf followed behind Barius, "My brother didn't tell much, although he did mention he was banished from College Grounds, something about live elf test subjects in his work. Still glad I didn't go to that damned college.... mages going crazy..." Alyari grumbled

[Kaidou]

Brand smiled, a twisted, warped smile that did not connote any happiness, only acceptance. He put on his shirt again, hiding the scars, before folding his arms and staring blankly into the hall, his mind wandering to those 11 years that he could not forget. If this elf could not help him… he would…

Somehow, as Brand looked over at his one legged companion conversing with the armoured elf standing at the other side, he could not bring himself to say any more about his suicide plan. For months, he had brooded over it, about how he would plant explosives all over the biggest city in Westgrove and blow himself (and the citizens of said city) up. He had all the details planned. He had even learned how to make explosives. And yet… there was no longer an urge to do it…

This one legged man with the javelin had showered upon him something that his biological father had repeatedly failed to give. This one legged man had treated him like a son, like family.

There was just no more urge to end his life. Though the horrific flashbacks continuously followed him everywhere like a swarm of hornets ready to sting, he just could not bring himself to run away, to plant the bombs, to end his life…

---

Barius nodded as the armoured elf briefly explained Hari the Sorcerer. As far as he remembered, being banished from the College was a punishment only meted out to severe offenders. He could only imagine what a madman like this Hari would have done to the poor boy…

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

Eastmarch
Fortress of Don-Grot-Delving
Grand Crown Hall

The fortress of Don-Grot-Delving, the Dark Burrowing Cave, was something of a work of art to Dwarven eyes. It was not actually part of the city of Eastmarch. Rather, it burrowed deep into the mountain behind the city’s construct, where the ancient Dwarven city had always been. In Years Past, before the rise of the Dwarven Deeplords, these had been nothing but slums where thousands upon thousands of Dwarves had their shamble shacks and homes. They were worked to death by their human overlords, who demanded hard labour and precious minerals and metals for their obedience. Those were the Dontiden, the Dark Times.

Yet, all changed when the Deeplords arose. When the grandfather of Lord Assadar, the First Deeplord Korton, led his Dwarven rebels against their human oppressors. Armed only with the weapons they could find, picks, axes, hammers, rods, the Dwarves rose up against their masters in a feat of rage. They drove the humans from their mountain homes and, when they rallied to launch a counterattack, the Dwarves poured into the city of Eastmarch, a city they had long been banished from. They freed many a Dwarven slave still held within the city, captured or burned all the forges within her walls, and destroyed every weapon of Man they could find. Their victory was complete.

Then, work began. The Slav-Gevan, the Prison of the Slaves as the slums were called, were transformed. Using the earnings from their great looting of Eastmarch, and from their income as miners and craftsmen, the Dwarves went to create for themselves a new home. The dimly lit caverns, which had been poorly constructed during the Dontiden, received a new face. Large fires and diamond chandeliers lit the caves in lights more brilliant and pure than the rays of the sun. The walls of the caves, shabby and crooked, were carved out to form smooth walls and great homes. Large workspaces and treasure halls were build anew as throne rooms, meeting places and plazas. In fifty years, Slav-Gevan was rebuilt as Don-Grot-Delving, one of the greatest cities of the continent.



And it was in those great halls of stone and rock that we find ourselves in our story. 246 years after Korton Groot, Korton the Great, reformed the slums in his image. The way he had always wanted to see it shine. Assadar walked the Mountain Halls with an heir of pride around him, like he always did when walking these great paths his grandfather and father built before him. He looked up at the sealing, where he could see the grand chandeliers of brilliant minerals illuminate the rest of the underground city in a blueish hue, a gentle light that shot in rays further and further into the deep. Great fires were lit against the walls, fuelled by magma mined from the deepest crevices of the city. It was a work of genius.

Assadar was, of course, not alone. No Deeplord would ever walk those halls alone but by his own wish. He was accompanied by a few men. To his right, the Groteer (or duke, as Men would call it) of Lav-Deep, Linnon Fer. Linnon Fer was the Groteer of the Magma Chasms, the deep recesses of the mountain that provided warmth and light to the fortress-city. An important man of great wealth, but with a good heart. His magma flowed to every home, even to those who could never afford to pay him. To the left of Assadar was the Mureer (Baron) of the Dongate, the grand way into the fortress from Eastmarch. He commanded the watch of the gates, made sure they closed at night, and that they opened in the morn. He commanded the trade routes that went through the gates, and was therefore also a wealthy man. He, on the other hand, didn’t have the same care for people that the Groteer had, as he was deeply suspicious of outsiders.



Behind them was the Har-Nas, the Great Guard that protected the Deeplord from peril. They were clad in the finest armour the city could provide, with silver details and even some works of mithril woven through the whole. They carried two weapons with them for times of trouble; their main weapon was the Har, the axe-hammer. A combination of three weapons: the spear in the middle, with an axe head to one side and a war hammer to the other. They were quite proficient with the weapon, and could switch from attacking with the axe head to bashing someone with the hammer in no-time at all. As secondary weapon, they carried the hammer pick, a combination of a war pick and a hammer that was the standard small weapon of the Dwarves. Dwarves would not wield bows or swords, those were Human weapons of their former oppressors.

Thus, the company of men marched into the meeting room, a room where the Deeplord had meetings with lords far and near. He himself sat at the head of the grand granite table, whereas the Groteer and the Mureer took up positions to his left and right. The Har-Nas guard surrounded the table, at a proper distance. They would not leave the Deeplord out of their sight. Assadar nodded for a moment, then looked at his fellow lords.

“So…” he began, in his deep voice.

“What’s on the mind of our kingdom today?”

[Cymrea]

Alexander Black-Hammer;
Present Time; Northwall Keep

Northwall. The great ancient city of the human race. Like most days within the city, the snow fell hard, elkfolk laborers working hardly to clear it, their overseer watching closely for any disent. Unlike most people from Northwall, Alex didn't harbor any hatred for the Elkfolk or even feel any racism for them, he only judged people on their merit and power, nothing else.

Alexander walked to the Gates of the Keep, which was held high on a hill,

"General Alexander Black-Hammer here to see his liege." the general said to the guards

The guard recognised General Black-Hammer and allowed him entry to the Keep. An honour escort of four Frostguards fell in step with the general and accompanied him to the Royal Hall.

The Hall was immense, columned, and kept warm with massive hearths blazing with fire. At the far end, upon a high stepped dais, sat King Cambrius. The Winter Throne was of a scale with heroes and great men; Cambrius filled it with his presence if not his stature. On the king's brow rested the Iron Crown of Northwall. Cambrius only wore the crown during these matters of state.

"Welcome home, General Black-Hammer! What news of the vassal South?"

[Everhall]

Alexander Black-Hammer;
Present Time; Northwall Keep

Northwall. The great ancient city of the human race. Like most days within the city, the snow fell hard, elkfolk laborers working hardly to clear it, their overseer watching closely for any disent. Unlike most people from Northwall, Alex didn't harbor any hatred for the Elkfolk or even feel any racism for them, he only judged people on their merit and power, nothing else.

Alexander walked to the Gates of the Keep, which was held high on a hill,

"General Alexander Black-Hammer here to see his liege." the general said to the guards

The guard recognised General Black-Hammer and allowed him entry to the Keep. An honour escort of four Frostguards fell in step with the general and accompanied him to the Royal Hall.

The Hall was immense, columned, and kept warm with massive hearths blazing with fire. At the far end, upon a high stepped dais, sat King Cambrius. The Winter Throne was of a scale with heroes and great men; Cambrius filled it with his presence if not his stature. On the king's brow rested the Iron Crown of Northwall. Cambrius only wore the crown during these matters of state.

"Welcome home, General Black-Hammer! What news of the vassal South?"

"The Southern Holdings are overall fine, but some remain restless my King." Alexander bowed before Cambrius III,

"I believe you called my here for a reason?"

Brand smiled, a twisted, warped smile that did not connote any happiness, only acceptance. He put on his shirt again, hiding the scars, before folding his arms and staring blankly into the hall, his mind wandering to those 11 years that he could not forget. If this elf could not help him… he would…

Somehow, as Brand looked over at his one legged companion conversing with the armoured elf standing at the other side, he could not bring himself to say any more about his suicide plan. For months, he had brooded over it, about how he would plant explosives all over the biggest city in Westgrove and blow himself (and the citizens of said city) up. He had all the details planned. He had even learned how to make explosives. And yet… there was no longer an urge to do it…

This one legged man with the javelin had showered upon him something that his biological father had repeatedly failed to give. This one legged man had treated him like a son, like family.

There was just no more urge to end his life. Though the horrific flashbacks continuously followed him everywhere like a swarm of hornets ready to sting, he just could not bring himself to run away, to plant the bombs, to end his life…

---

Barius nodded as the armoured elf briefly explained Hari the Sorcerer. As far as he remembered, being banished from the College was a punishment only meted out to severe offenders. He could only imagine what a madman like this Hari would have done to the
poor boy…

"Okay lets see... Destruction... Summoing.... ah illusion! Okay lets see.... how long has Hari been... uh..." Viciro asked taking a books from the self

[Kaidou]

"Okay lets see... Destruction... Summoing.... ah illusion! Okay lets see.... how long has Hari been... uh..." Viciro asked taking a books from the self

Brand looked up at the elf, his facial expression betraying none of his emotions or lack thereof. "11 years and 4 months", he said. Despite not showing it, he was actually somewhat excited at the prospect of this elf being able to wipe his memory, or at least bury it beneath something.

Barius hobbled over to where the boy and the mage were, standing next to the tall elf.

[Everhall]

"Okay lets see... Destruction... Summoing.... ah illusion! Okay lets see.... how long has Hari been... uh..." Viciro asked taking a books from the self

Brand looked up at the elf, his facial expression betraying none of his emotions or lack thereof. "11 years and 4 months", he said. Despite not showing it, he was actually somewhat excited at the prospect of this elf being able to wipe his memory, or at least bury it beneath something.

Barius hobbled over to where the boy and the mage were, standing next to the tall elf.

"Eleven Years and four months? It's doable. Let me see here...." Viciro said as a ball of golden light grew in his outstretched hand,

"This won't hurt a bit." Viciro said as he used the spell. As soon as it impacted Brand, all those years of torture seened to fade away, replaced by a rememberance of warmth... before the Great Winter...

[Kaidou]

The moment the ball of light cleared up, Brand had fallen asleep soundly. Barius stooped down (with some difficulty, due to the fact that he only had one knee joint), looking at the boy sleeping. What struck the old, one legged man was the fact that Brand no longer wore his trademark scowl; neither was he repeating the name of bodily deformities in his sleep.

"I… I cannot thank you… enough…"

Barius broke down into tears as he scooped up the sleeping boy in his arms, cradling him dotingly, like a son. As he made his way to the door, he regained composure of himself, using his upper arm to wipe his streaming face. "I will find a way to repay you in the future…" he said, almost unable to control himself as he bade farewell to the elf.

As the attendants brought Asystole out, helping Barius climb on and get the deeply slumberous young boy onto the back of the horse, before loading the saddlebags. Clipping his Durrendel Alloy javelin onto one of the straps on the side, the one legged man took one last grateful look at the large marble building, before making his way out of the West gate, directly opposite of the side from which they had entered the city.

Now, it was time to continue their journey. And with one dark, haunting yoke cast from their backs, the prospects were beginning to look up.

3 hours later

"Good evening, Barius."

Barius nearly fell off the horse in shock. "You… just called me… Barius…" he said to Brand, who had awoken and was now peering up at him from his supine position on the man's lap.

"What about it?" Brand scowled in confusion. It was not his usual scowl, fraught with distress and morbidity. It was a lighthearted scowl, one with nugatory meaning.

"Please continue to call me that… it sounds beautiful."

Barius wasn't praising the ring of his own name; rather, it was the first time he had heard the boy call him by name. Previously, he had only addressed him as vague, common nouns (often derogatory), if at all. Now, that same boy had just called him by name. Most people wouldn't have bothered about something so inconsequential, but Barius wasn't one of them; he had seen the gradual change in this boy, and it certainly had a great impact on him.

By that time, the sun was already beginning to set. Dismounting at a little clearing in the forest and setting up camp, the two began to eat dinner together, sitting on small boulders around their campfire.

"You know, Barius", Brand said (the former was beaming), "While I was asleep just now, I had this dream… I dreamt that the land wasn't covered in snow anymore. That there were tiny little leaves growing out of the ground, little flowers everywhere…" He paused, gazing up fondly into the sky as the setting sun burst forth its final, magnificent rays into the gradually darkening sky. "Was there ever a time when the world was like this?"

Barius looked about shiftily, before looking back at the white haired, yellow eyed boy who sat across him. "I have not experienced anything other than snow", he said dreamily, slurping up recently reheated mushroom soup from his bowl. "It is the same for the generations that exist now."

"Isn't there a way to end it? To bring back that warmth, the warmth of spring?"

"The Gods have decreed that it will remain winter. Or so I was told."

"Couldn't they be wrong?"

Barius himself had never questioned this. Why was it winter? Why did the winter have to last for so long? These were all questions he never knew he had. And now, he was glad that the boy had asked.

Perhaps we may find answers on our journey?…

Perhaps.

[Greystone Forest]

Amergin drew in a deep breath and could smell the sea though they were yet miles away. It was chilly, but not like the north. The deep forests of the south were almost always in a temperate climate. He looked around the settlement with an exacting eye. He was pleased that the scouts had found some ancient mounds, mounds that had not been plundered by the forest wraiths.

"My lord Amergin, what thinkest thou? Thou hast been brooding all through this trip." Amergin looked up to see the Lady Tlactha walking towards him.

"Greetings, my lady. A bit chilly for that thin garb of yours, eh?" She knew it wasn't the material of her robe that interested him, but her barely-seen body beneath it.

Without speaking, she drew a flask from her belt and popped the cork. "Perhaps a draught wouldst change thy mood?"

Amergin took hold of the flask, knowing that the home-brew of the Druid Queen would undoubtedly change his mood, powerful stuff as it was. He took the smallest sip and instantly felt new life and vigor flowing into him. With a sparkle in his eye, he said, "A bit stronger than usual, even for you, my Lady."

Tlactha smiled, something that completely unnerved Amergin. "Big plans, m'lord, require big drink, no?"

A scout came running into the glen. "My Lord Amergin, a band of roughs have been spotted a mile from here. Could be Pér Loisel and his clan."

"Call the guards to me. I'll go out myself and see what this bastard wants." Myrddin Amergin, High Druid of the Warriors of the Forest, stood to his full height and checked his weapons. Long sword, battle-knife, and shield were at the ready. Twelve of his warriors ran up and he said to the scout, "Lead us to the place you saw the roughs." Turning to his men, he said, "Keep your eyes open. If it is indeed Loisel, we can expect treachery."

They moved as one, single file through the deep brush into the quiet of the forest.....

The druids could smell the roughs before they were spotted through the bramble-hedges. Amergin motioned for complete silence as he crept forward for a better look.

The small group had evidently killed a deer and were roasting parts of it over a smoky fire. The animal's innards were scattered all over the outskirts of the camp site, swarms of flies converging on them. Bones had been ripped out and tossed to the half-dozen large wolfhounds who ran with the roughs. Amergin looked closely and saw what he had suspected.

Pér Loisel was almost a legend in the southern forests. Stories had been told for hundreds of years about the solitary bandit-wizard. Stories that ran from the mildly questionable to the violently nightmarish. The man that the druid-warrior was peering at could certainly have been two centuries old.

A length of matted, filthy, grey hair poked out from beneath a greasy brown robe, his tangled beard a plethora of colors caused by the ingestion of soups and stews that hadn't made it to his mouth. One eye was had a scar running diagonally across it, the pupil a milky white flecked with brown stains. As he gobbled and slurped his meal, his filthy, cracked nails tore at the succulent meat, his broken, rotted teeth bit through the fragile bones of the deer. Spitting out cartilage, he said in a garbled, throaty voice, "Here! Some of that wine over here!"

A gutteral growl was what he received as answer, and in a lightening move, Pér Loisel buried a three-pronged fork in the cheek of
the growler. As the man howled in pain, he spat a wad of greasy brown mucus into the open wound. "A little respect, boy, or the next time I'll feed you to the wolfhounds." He turned at a muffled, sudden sound behind him.

"Ah, Master Myrddhin. What brings you to these parts?"

Amergin stood, arms crossed, a look of wonderment crossing his face. "Why, you, Loisel. My scouts saw a band of ne'er-do-wells crossing Druid territory and thought it might be you. You've fifteen minutes to finish your meal, clean the area, and get out."

Loisel asked, "Or...what?" His men had stopped to watch the exchange.

"Come, come, Loisel. You know what. Would you prefer living out the rest of your miserable existence as a fly or a dung beetle?"

"Ha! You wouldn't dare! This is not Druid land, but that of the king of Southern Fall! He'd have your balls in a sling in a day or two!"

"Where I am is Druid land, knave. If you have the ear of this king, best that you tell him that I'll meet with him at his leisure. Until then, get off my land!"

A dozen druid-warriors burst through the hedges and into the camp, swords drawn, bows nocked. One of the roughs jumped up and began to rush the warriors, for which he received a hard kick in his rump, catapulting him into the smoldering campfire.

Loisel yelled, "Enough! Clear out! We've got better things to do than deal with these traitors."

In minutes, the band of roughs had cleared out of the glen heading due west. "No doubt heading for the coast", said one of the druids.

"Yes, possibly. Two of you track them for a day. See where they wind up. Come, back to our camp."

Amergin knew little of the new king in Southfall, but if he was truly dealing with these ruffians, there could be future troubles.......

[Cymrea]

"The Southern Holdings are overall fine, but some remain restless my King." Alexander bowed before Cambrius III,

"I believe you called my here for a reason?"

Cambrius nodded. "I did indeed." He stood from his throne and descended the steps. "Walk with me, General."

King and warlord strode side by side, now flanked and trailed by a total of eight Frostguards. Cambrius led the procession on a tour of the courtyard. "While I would otherwise prefer you to remain at Southfall and oversee the occupation, I have an even more important task for you. Lord Brego can't do too much harm there in your absence, but the advantage you could bring to Northfall greatly overshadows any potential folly at my brother's hand."

Black-Hammer's eyebrow quirked in curiosity, but he held his tongue.

Cambrius smiled at his general's discipline. "I need you to act as my emissary to Eastmarch. With Southfall in our possession, an alliance with the dwarves could cement our supremacy. Westgrove won't dare to challenge us, even if the elves were inclined to do so, regardless. And if we can treat with them for a pact of non-aggression, then there will be nothing in Northfall's path."

The king stopped and turned to face Black-Hammer fully, training his intense gaze on his right-hand man. "I can trust you to act and speak on my behalf, yes?"

[Everhall]

"The Southern Holdings are overall fine, but some remain restless my King." Alexander bowed before Cambrius III,

"I believe you called my here for a reason?"

Cambrius nodded. "I did indeed." He stood from his throne and descended the steps. "Walk with me, General."

King and warlord strode side by side, now flanked and trailed by a total of eight Frostguards. Cambrius led the procession on a tour of the courtyard. "While I would otherwise prefer you to remain at Southfall and oversee the occupation, I have an even more important task for you. Lord Brego can't do too much harm there in your absence, but the advantage you could bring to Northfall greatly overshadows any potential folly at my brother's hand."

Black-Hammer's eyebrow quirked in curiosity, but he held his tongue.

Cambrius smiled at his general's discipline. "I need you to act as my emissary to Eastmarch. With Southfall in our possession, an alliance with the dwarves could cement our supremacy. Westgrove won't dare to challenge us, even if the elves were inclined to do so, regardless. And if we can treat with them for a pact of non-aggression, then there will be nothing in Northfall's path."

The king stopped and turned to face Black-Hammer fully, training his intense gaze on his right-hand man. "I can trust you to act and speak on my behalf, yes?"

"Yes my King," Alexander saluted, "I will depart immediatly. Now, about Eastmarch, what exactly do you want me to propose other than the Alliance?"

[Kaidou]

A few kilometres away from the Westgrove Royal Palace

"Tell us what you know! Tell us what you know, now!"

The interrogator was a huge, immensely muscled man, standing at an impressive height of 256cm and dressed in nothing but black leather pants and spiked boots, despite the freezing temperatures and snow. The one being interrogated was a moustached young man, who was tied to a marble table near some stables. As a group of other men slaughtered the 7 horses inside and cut up the meat (presumably to make soup), the big man continued to interrogate the terrified young man. With him was another man. This other man was in his early nineties, yet he stood erect and straight, his muscular chest pressing against his black chain mail vest. In one of his leather gloved hands, he clutched a long black stick.

This man was commonly known as Ram "Blizzard Magus" Egthir.

As the big man began to push a long, thick finger into the protesting young man's side, Egthir gracefully walked over to where the young man's blindfolded head was strapped to the marble table, his walking stick more than making up for his near total blindness.

"Did you come across a young boy with white hair and yellow eyes?"

"Yes… yes… AAAH!!!… I gave… him and his… companion… UAH!!… a horse… STOOOOP!!!"

"And did you happen to take note of the direction in which said boy went?"

"I think it… ah… was the west… or something… No… no… please, stop… I don't want to die… I have an elderly mother to care for… she lost her hand in an accident, and…"

Egthir's face darkened, a long, blue vein swelling on his pale, wrinkled forehead. "Silence!" he bellowed. "You of are no use to me, you fool!"

Raising his stick, Egthir whispered in an arcane, mystical language, kissing the shaft of the stick. Closing his ruined eyes, the old mage artistically whirled his stick around, before jumping up with terrifying agility (for a 91 year old) and stabbing the young man in the abdomen. In a split second (not even enough for the man to scream), his body was completely turned into ice, which Egthir promptly proceeded to shatter with one strike of his fist.

"Damn… my knees are painful", Egthir said sarcastically to his massive torture henchman, who stoically pulled a black leather cape over his shoulders. Standing in front of his 100 or so men, who had finished cooking their soup and were now drinking, Egthir yelled out his next order.

"Send 10 mage scouts out along the path. Track down Goraneus Deciminius Brand, and find his whereabouts! I will track down that boy, even if it means destroying this entire forest in the process!"

[Cymrea]

"Yes my King," Alexander saluted, "I will depart immediatly. Now, about Eastmarch, what exactly do you want me to propose other than the Alliance?"

"Other than the alliance, nothing. Within the framework of the alliance, however, I trust you to make a beneficial offer. I will review your final draft for approval before signing, of course, but you will have the authority to negotiate as you see fit. Some items of note: there are mining townships in the southeastern region of Southfall that the dwarves may be interested in possessing. Granting these mining towns to Eastmarch for a subsidised price on the metal they extract will provide Northfall with less expensive resources that we need not mine ourselves; a sweeter offer for the dwarves to begin with; and towns we do not need to expend troops to defend - they will be occupied by the dwarven armies.

"Also, if possible, we would like to ensure that the humans of Eastmarch are either granted equal status there, or permitted to migrate to us." Cambrius paused, thinking. "I think that covers the important points. Send a raven if you have need to communicate. Any further questions, general?"

[Everhall]

Gen. Alexander Black-Hammer;
Northwall Keep

"Just one your grace," Alexander responded rising again, "Why have you chosen me for such mission, I'm not really the diplomatic type."

Ri-Dar;
Southfall, The Kingdom of the South

"Damnit...." the young Mijack cursed as he evaded his attackers, "I knew I shouldn't have trusted that damn mage..." he growled as his pursuers came around the corner,

"STOP ASSASSIN!" they yelled as Ri-Dar quickly climbed up a nearby building, jumping from the roof into a hay stack. The young assassin had been called for on a mission, some mage wanted a old enemy killed. He should have known that it was all a setup. As the assassin attempted to exit the hay, he was surrounded,

"The Creed just doesn't know when to stop does it?" one of the guards smirked as he drew closer, his sword drawn,

"You wouldn't want to see Ri-Dar angry, no? Trust me, you don't want to..." Ri-Dar growled, drawing his swords

"You and what army?"

"Me!" Ri-Dar roared as he lashed out at the guards stabbing on in the head before throwing one of his daggers into the other. The cat charged at the last guard, taking his sword and decapitating the poor man.

"Well... that settles that..."

[Cymrea]

"Just one your grace," Alexander responded rising again, "Why have you chosen me for such mission, I'm not really the diplomatic type."

Cambrius nodded; it was a fair question. "Because of all my advisors, you possess the most talent for strategy and tactics; you speak from strength, and that is the primary trait we must convey to Eastmarch. The dwarves don't respect flowery speech or courtly manners. Northwall is strong, and all of Durrendel must recognise that inescapable fact. With the east at our side, our strength will be unmatched."