Foreigners in the Free Lands (IC, PT)

[The Selkie]

(OOC: This is the IC to this OOC. Please apply and be accepted before posting here. Thanks.)

1450. The Free Lands.
The Elders were weak.
The Clan Chiefs ruled like warlords over their land. Inbetween were the farmers in their little farmsteads, independent villages and towns, which were shelters for everyone.
The Land was ripe to be taken by invaders, ripe for merchants to conquer new markets, ripe for new gods replacing the Gods of the Old, ripe for mercenaries to offer their trade commodity. The Land was rich in iron and silver, salpeter and sulfur, rich enough, so that an invasion would actually be feasible.
But the people, the Selkie, as divided as they were, were far too proud to stand a foreigner within their lands, a foreigner, who came to conquer...

Cuan, in the Southern Coastlands
Two hundred souls, all of them Selkie. Some were Galways, some were Sligos, some were Kildares, the tribes native to the Southern Coastlands, some were of other tribes.
They all came here, because it was a good spot to be, to have an inn or a stable or a small farm with a section for breeding horses. They were around a day's march with a cart away from Waalshoben, a foreign trading post, the nearest village in fact. And they all lived good together, the foreigners brought their wares and money, the Selkie traded, all were happy.
Except two of the three Elders in the Southern Coastlands, who wanted to throw out the trading post and its merchants. Their predecessors had given the land, they wanted it back and control over the post and the foreign gold in there.
They were supported in that claim by a local Clan Chief, Tyran Dionach of the Tribe of Kildare, who's father was already against it and who was getting more and more annoyed by the foreign gold, which was more valuable then silver. It had permitted to fortify Cuan with a strong wall, as well as some other villages in the area: Coill had a wooden wall, built from the same wood they chopped in the nearby forest and liked to trade, Olann had some watchtowers protecting the pastures for the sheep, which were their life's foundation, Caora had a small fort on a nearby hill to protect themselves.
And protection was necessary: Raiders and highwaymen made the area slightly insecure, as were all streets within the Lands, and Dionach wasn't always willing to play with fair arguments and in good faith. They all knew, that the last attacks on their villages and trade caravans were, if not done or sponsored, then at least arranged by Dionach.
Interesting times were coming up for the Southern Coastlands.

Silverport
On the other side of the Lands, the town of Silverport stood undaunted and protected by itself.
Many ships of many lands came here every year, trading wares and bringing travellers, missionaries and others to the Lands.
It was a good point to trade iron and silver from the Western Mountains with foreign and domestic produce, and to get the iron and silver worked into jewelry, tools, weapons, armour and everything else imaginable. The craftsmen in Silverport were famous.
But it was also a good place to trade information. In the inns, brothels, taverns and on the streets, things were known and things were made known for a gold coin or even more. From Silverport, the information then spread among certain lines.
It was a good town to find work and to begin with work.

[Neo Prutenia]

The lovely Bunte Stutte, one of the last cogs in the fleet, just arrived in port. She was a hybrid design, employing some elements of caravel types; mainly to make her more seaworthy. Most arrivals at Waalshoben had been caravels really, with a carrack or nao sometimes delivering some valuable cargo. But occasionally, just occasionally, an old cog would manage to reach these shores and bring something. The Bunte Stutte in particular was known for bringing sweets and alcohol. This time it was honey, mead, and beer, several tonnes of it. Of course, on the side, all such vessels brought with them various goods in smaller quantities mainly used to resupply the local trade post and for limited markets and special orders. For example, it brought Syndic Bomhever and his office a large supply of ink, paper, and diverse instruments necessary for accounting. It also brought cloths and hats from home, something the local Prut were always happy to get. The women were interested in fancy fabrics. There was almost a small riot because of a raw three ladies had over a measure of silk. Other than that, Waalshoben was quite happy. The stevedores were already busy properly securing and unloading everything. Ah, the smell. The weather was just nice enough to encourage that golden, sweet fragrance to levitate through the ear. As the honey crates were moved around, through the settlement and to the warehouse, everyone stopped for a moment whatever it was they were doing and took a good whiff. Just sitting back, closing your eyes, and letting the aroma transport you, just for a spell, to a meadow, your mother kitchen, and bliss, as you recall fond memories of the taste. The chief baker, Herr Ovner, was already rubbing his hands in anticipation. Part of this treasure will go to him, and he'll make a small fortune on sweets in the near future. Bonbons, cake, and sweets will be made for a fair soon. So he was keen on micromanaging and directing his assistants while they were bringing the honey to his bakery. Couldn't let them drop something or mess up. Children had to be kept away too, although not nearly as much as the adults when the mead and beer was being unloaded. Eight tenths of those were supposed to go to Cuan, or Kohn as the Prut called it. One tenth would be used for local consumption, mainly in the fair the locals were preparing. The last tenth would go to the tavern and tea house on the other side of Waalshoben, near the land gate, to resupply it and enhance its menu. The crew of the Bunte Stutte was allowed two days leave, until the paperwork would be done, the money be negotiated, and the goods they'd take back home would be bought and certified.

Syndic Bomhever, meanwhile, was more than satisfied with how things were going. He was still with his friend, the preceptor Messmann, in the tea house enjoying his herbal brew and playing a game of Basel. He didn't even mind losing this particular game. Preceptor Messmann was leaned over their table, pondering all possible moves and carefully analysing the situation. Never mind him winning, he was virtually incapable of either underestimating his opponent or relaxing before he'd finished the task at hand. He simply was one of these people. Not a blast at parties, but a great organiser and scholar, and that's where it counted in the eyes of his colleagues. Messmann didn't even notice that Bomhever was talking with a messenger while he was considering which piece to move. The messenger did have enough tact to not be overly loud or disruptive though, so maybe that was the reason. Bomhever had a big smile on his face after hearing the news. Nothing could spoil his mood.

"Why the grin? Have I missed something? Oh Hevensonne, have I messed up?!" Messmann stared at the board.

"No, everything is quite alright. A new ship arrived."

"Oh."

"New cargo too."

"Right."

"For Kohn."

"Oh, that's the lovely 'town' a day away from here, right?"

"Exactly."

"Right."

"Mind if I leave for a moment?"

"I do!"

"Just a spell."

"To Kohn?!"

"To Swerting."

"Oh right. Carry on then. I'll wait."

Bomhever didn't need long. Commander Swerting was with her team, just outside the tea house, watching some charts and lecturing two younger men. Apparently their topographic reading skills weren't on par with their celestial navigation skills, which wasn't exactly good, since they couldn't rely on orienting themselves by the stars during the day, for obvious reasons, and the day being the main time Waalshoben sent patrols, outriders, and wagon guards. She was willing to cut them some slack for being fresh here. Besides, they've spent months on a boat learning stars; they didn't even have a week in Selkie lands under their belt. It just doesn't compare. Or maybe they thought knowing the constellations and stars was more romantic and would impress more ladies than reading some drawing on some paper. At least this lady wasn't impressed.

"Befehlshaberin Swerting, do you have a moment?"

"Already on it, Herr Syndic."

"Ah, you know already."

"Obviously I do. Nothing passes this part of town without me knowing. Want me to go right away?"

"Delivery due tomorrow. See if you can organise the people of Kohn to send a security detail to join us, at least halfway, and to let them know to prepare their depot."

"Of course."

Bomhever was back in the first floor of the tea house continuing his game, while Swerting had mounted her horse and commanded ten men, excluding those two tasked with learning the map and lay of the land, to join her. They left Waalshoben and went straight towards Cuan. Well, not exactly 'straight', since the route was a bit curvy and went through the hill lands. They knew this area well, from the near constant patrols and exercises. More than the land, they knew the people, and they knew that some of the people were nice, some were rather not so. And the rather not so types weren't interested in the buying part of trading, just in the selling, specifically reselling goods they didn't buy in the first place. or you know, fencing goods, as it's called in the business. Despite the close proximity of Cuan, the patrols, and the trade wagons always, always going together in a convoy, Waalshoben never sent a cart without a security detail. Even if a Selkie group would come to Waalshoben with their own cart and lack of guards, Swerting or one of her officers would at least accompany that group with a handful of men for some time and a short distance to make sure they were safe. They've escorted dozens of such local merchants to Cuan and other trade hubs, always free of charge. Good for business and good for neighbourly solidarity; plus, it was the right thing to do. Riding just by herself, they moved much quicker, and soon came in sight of Cuan. They approached the settlement from the main entrance, clearly visible, and waving the recognisable red-white banner of Waalshoben, to make sure the residents would know that friends were approaching. Now it was just a matter of seeing who would greet them first.

[The Selkie]

The lovely Bunte Stutte, one of the last cogs in the fleet, just arrived in port. She was a hybrid design, employing some elements of caravel types; mainly to make her more seaworthy. Most arrivals at Waalshoben had been caravels really, with a carrack or nao sometimes delivering some valuable cargo. But occasionally, just occasionally, an old cog would manage to reach these shores and bring something. The Bunte Stutte in particular was known for bringing sweets and alcohol. This time it was honey, mead, and beer, several tonnes of it. Of course, on the side, all such vessels brought with them various goods in smaller quantities mainly used to resupply the local trade post and for limited markets and special orders. For example, it brought Syndic Bomhever and his office a large supply of ink, paper, and diverse instruments necessary for accounting. It also brought cloths and hats from home, something the local Prut were always happy to get. The women were interested in fancy fabrics. There was almost a small riot because of a raw three ladies had over a measure of silk. Other than that, Waalshoben was quite happy. The stevedores were already busy properly securing and unloading everything. Ah, the smell. The weather was just nice enough to encourage that golden, sweet fragrance to levitate through the ear. As the honey crates were moved around, through the settlement and to the warehouse, everyone stopped for a moment whatever it was they were doing and took a good whiff. Just sitting back, closing your eyes, and letting the aroma transport you, just for a spell, to a meadow, your mother kitchen, and bliss, as you recall fond memories of the taste. The chief baker, Herr Ovner, was already rubbing his hands in anticipation. Part of this treasure will go to him, and he'll make a small fortune on sweets in the near future. Bonbons, cake, and sweets will be made for a fair soon. So he was keen on micromanaging and directing his assistants while they were bringing the honey to his bakery. Couldn't let them drop something or mess up. Children had to be kept away too, although not nearly as much as the adults when the mead and beer was being unloaded. Eight tenths of those were supposed to go to Cuan, or Kohn as the Prut called it. One tenth would be used for local consumption, mainly in the fair the locals were preparing. The last tenth would go to the tavern and tea house on the other side of Waalshoben, near the land gate, to resupply it and enhance its menu. The crew of the Bunte Stutte was allowed two days leave, until the paperwork would be done, the money be negotiated, and the goods they'd take back home would be bought and certified.

Syndic Bomhever, meanwhile, was more than satisfied with how things were going. He was still with his friend, the preceptor Messmann, in the tea house enjoying his herbal brew and playing a game of Basel. He didn't even mind losing this particular game. Preceptor Messmann was leaned over their table, pondering all possible moves and carefully analysing the situation. Never mind him winning, he was virtually incapable of either underestimating his opponent or relaxing before he'd finished the task at hand. He simply was one of these people. Not a blast at parties, but a great organiser and scholar, and that's where it counted in the eyes of his colleagues. Messmann didn't even notice that Bomhever was talking with a messenger while he was considering which piece to move. The messenger did have enough tact to not be overly loud or disruptive though, so maybe that was the reason. Bomhever had a big smile on his face after hearing the news. Nothing could spoil his mood.

"Why the grin? Have I missed something? Oh Hevensonne, have I messed up?!" Messmann stared at the board.

"No, everything is quite alright. A new ship arrived."

"Oh."

"New cargo too."

"Right."

"For Kohn."

"Oh, that's the lovely 'town' a day away from here, right?"

"Exactly."

"Right."

"Mind if I leave for a moment?"

"I do!"

"Just a spell."

"To Kohn?!"

"To Swerting."

"Oh right. Carry on then. I'll wait."

Bomhever didn't need long. Commander Swerting was with her team, just outside the tea house, watching some charts and lecturing two younger men. Apparently their topographic reading skills weren't on par with their celestial navigation skills, which wasn't exactly good, since they couldn't rely on orienting themselves by the stars during the day, for obvious reasons, and the day being the main time Waalshoben sent patrols, outriders, and wagon guards. She was willing to cut them some slack for being fresh here. Besides, they've spent months on a boat learning stars; they didn't even have a week in Selkie lands under their belt. It just doesn't compare. Or maybe they thought knowing the constellations and stars was more romantic and would impress more ladies than reading some drawing on some paper. At least this lady wasn't impressed.

"Befehlshaberin Swerting, do you have a moment?"

"Already on it, Herr Syndic."

"Ah, you know already."

"Obviously I do. Nothing passes this part of town without me knowing. Want me to go right away?"

"Delivery due tomorrow. See if you can organise the people of Kohn to send a security detail to join us, at least halfway, and to let them know to prepare their depot."

"Of course."

Bomhever was back in the first floor of the tea house continuing his game, while Swerting had mounted her horse and commanded ten men, excluding those two tasked with learning the map and lay of the land, to join her. They left Waalshoben and went straight towards Cuan. Well, not exactly 'straight', since the route was a bit curvy and went through the hill lands. They knew this area well, from the near constant patrols and exercises. More than the land, they knew the people, and they knew that some of the people were nice, some were rather not so. And the rather not so types weren't interested in the buying part of trading, just in the selling, specifically reselling goods they didn't buy in the first place. or you know, fencing goods, as it's called in the business. Despite the close proximity of Cuan, the patrols, and the trade wagons always, always going together in a convoy, Waalshoben never sent a cart without a security detail. Even if a Selkie group would come to Waalshoben with their own cart and lack of guards, Swerting or one of her officers would at least accompany that group with a handful of men for some time and a short distance to make sure they were safe. They've escorted dozens of such local merchants to Cuan and other trade hubs, always free of charge. Good for business and good for neighbourly solidarity; plus, it was the right thing to do. Riding just by herself, they moved much quicker, and soon came in sight of Cuan. They approached the settlement from the main entrance, clearly visible, and waving the recognisable red-white banner of Waalshoben, to make sure the residents would know that friends were approaching. Now it was just a matter of seeing who would greet them first.

Cuan
The small town enjoyed much of its days in a state of Armed Peacefulness: Everyone was peaceful, everyone played nice, everyone was armed with at least a dagger.
Daggers were most common, in fact, while people some carried short or longer swords or bow and arrow. Those regularly employing bows and arrows were the men of the Guard, those, who stood on the wall and held watch, guarded the town.
It was more a militia then a professional force, organized around the idea, that everyone was a Guardsman - or Guardswoman - once in while, ideally, while his or her business rested.
Marla Rinn of the Tribe of Sligo was in the business of hunting and everything belonging to it, including the hunt for men, especially raiders. They were her speciality. She loathed raiders, they took, what was hers and dear to her, and when she was finally up and standing again, they came back.
That was, why Marla was one of the most constant watches and archers on the wall, which the small town had and one of the best, too. She was also a good horsewoman, not as good as some of the other guys, but still good.
Today, she had the shift on the gate, which went out to the small foreign trading post Waalshoben. They were good people, honest to themselves, at least, that was the impression she got, and they were friendly, always lending a helping hand, when a helping hand was needed (and they all knew, that it wasn't just because they were so friendly and nice, but still they did and that was, what mattered).
Speaking of which: She had the eleven horsemen approaching in her blue eyed sight for some time now, watching them from afar. They weren't raiders, they didn't dare to attack fortified villages (at least not the intelligent ones), they also weren't Dionach and his men, they would come with much more men, and merchants were slower with their carts full of wares.
Well..., she thought, ...only one way to find out, who those people are!
Carefully, she picked up her bow, a composite bow of horn, wood and sinew with much power behing it in the right hands. She pulled the string with her working hands to test, if everything was alright, took one of the carefully crafted arrows from her own making, one for the big game. That one would be more then enough for a man or a horse.
She put the arrow on the string, drew her bow and stood up, aiming directly at her target - the flag, it's pole, to shoot and hit the pole of the red-white flag.
Wait!, she thought with alarming speed, before she released the arrow and maybe making a mistake. Waalshoben used a red and white flag, easily to be recognized, and no Selkie would misuse a flag of similar design, simply because it was without honour and a great insult to wear another tribe's (or trade post, in this case) colours.
Carefully, Marla lowered her bow and took the arrow of the string, before taking both in one hand, the other up to the mouth.
"HALT!", she yelled as loud as she could, which was quite loud, loud enough to be heard by two more guards, who quickly went into position if the worst case would arrive: One to the alarm bell to call every able-bodied man and woman to arms, the other to the release of what they called their portcullis (in fact it was just a bunch of wooden logs above the gate, ready to be dropped and to block the immediate entrance to the town, giving the people more time to prepare). "WHO GOES THERE?!"
Let them not be raiders!, Marla thought, praying to Carman Fea, Goddess of War. If they were, she had arrows, a bow, a short sword and she was wearing a brigandine, she could take many things on.

[Neo Prutenia]

"Lower your arms warrior, a friend approaches."

One of Swerting's man waved their banner as he rode next to her. None of them had weapons drawn. The group slowed down considerably, continuing in a slow-paced trot, almost a walk even, while Swerting cantered closer to the gate. Hands raised, directing her steed just with her knees, she made a half circle in front of them to let everyone see that she had no intent to harm them.

"Moin as we say. It's been a while. I come from Waalshoben. The Syndic sent me. The merchant, Bomhever." She slowly took something out of her pocket, some little package wrapped in cloth, and gestured to Marla that she'd throw it to her. She then gently throw in vertically towards the archer. It was easy to catch. The cloth was a somewhat typical tissue paper made of light fabric, soft to the touch, probably linen, with flower motifs all over it. Inside was a sweet, a Lebkuchen or 'honey bread'. Prut traditionally exchanged small gifts in such encounters, and gifting food, especially sweets was considered tactful, polite, and friendly. "May we enter? I bring good news."

Her companions were now next to her, waiting for a proper invite to enter. Swerting was just smiling at Marla.

[The Selkie]

"Lower your arms warrior, a friend approaches."

One of Swerting's man waved their banner as he rode next to her. None of them had weapons drawn. The group slowed down considerably, continuing in a slow-paced trot, almost a walk even, while Swerting cantered closer to the gate. Hands raised, directing her steed just with her knees, she made a half circle in front of them to let everyone see that she had no intent to harm them.

"Moin as we say. It's been a while. I come from Waalshoben. The Syndic sent me. The merchant, Bomhever." She slowly took something out of her pocket, some little package wrapped in cloth, and gestured to Marla that she'd throw it to her. She then gently throw in vertically towards the archer. It was easy to catch. The cloth was a somewhat typical tissue paper made of light fabric, soft to the touch, probably linen, with flower motifs all over it. Inside was a sweet, a Lebkuchen or 'honey bread'. Prut traditionally exchanged small gifts in such encounters, and gifting food, especially sweets was considered tactful, polite, and friendly. "May we enter? I bring good news."

Her companions were now next to her, waiting for a proper invite to enter. Swerting was just smiling at Marla.

Marla caught the small object with a strong hand, not taking her eyes off the visitors.
Something crunched, as she caught it - other guards had told her, that these merchants from faraway lands always brought a gift, some jokingly referred to it as a bribe, to the guard at the gate they arrived at.
Some took it for themselves, others for their children.
Marla wasn't exactly known for her sweet tooth, but she enjoyed it sometimes. So, the small package went into her pocket in the hope of not crushing it further.
However, Selkie didn't give gifts at the gates, not to people, who were friendly. Only unfriendly people got gifts: Arrows to the knees, throats and whereever they hit.
Now that they were close, Marla also recognized the rider at the front, at least from seeing her around town sometimes. Some other faces seemed familiar, too.
"Open the gate!", she decided and ordered - immediately, her colleagues sprang into action.
A few minutes later, the gate would be opened, but Marla didn't put away bow and arrow - the opened gate was like an invitation for people wanting to cause trouble.
Meanwhile, within Cuan, the mayor, if one wanted to call him that, readied himself. If they had news of the merchants, it would mean, that new wares had arrived, which would mean, that they needed to send a troop of riders as escorts and guides, even if the traders were more then well enough equipped to have their own.
Connor Lách of the Tribe of Galway was more then willing to ride by himself, but as the mayor, he wasn't allowed to. His daughter Gwen would have to do, together with some of the boys crushing on her.
It wouldn't be fun, but necessary.
Trading with the Prut however was always fun and good. Connor looked forward to it, as did the other merchants and traders within Cuan.

[Neo Prutenia]

Swerting entered first, still on horseback. The group let the horses walk, going slowly, gracefully. Once they were inside and stood before the mayor, Swerting dismounted. A companion of hers did likewise and was given the reins of her horse. Swerting took off her hat as well, tucking it under her left arm and letting her braided, brunette hair fall over her shoulders, a scene that was somewhat emphasised by her shaking her head slightly to move the locks away from her face. She leaned her left arm, hat included, on her sabre, while offering her right to the mayor. Her eyes darted around the settlement scanning the surroundings, which just made her smile somewhat fainter as she appeared to be concerned.

"Herr Schult*, it's nice to see you again. It's been a while. I see everyone is on edge here. Nervous. Has there been a raid or other attack?", she sounded genuinely concerned about their safety, "if it helps, I bring good news. A vessel docked just an hour ago, bringing riches and goods. Friends, Herr Schult, we came to negotiate a transport and trade agreement, per custom. Would the time now be convenient for you to tend to such affairs and have us as guests until we can make a deal?"

Schult* - Low Prut for "mayor", especially the mayor of a village or small town; the honorific "Herr" is always used for males (and "Frau" for females), followed by a title if the person has a title. Regardless of fluency in a foreign language, in formal encounters and greetings Prut unconsciously switch back to Low Prut. This is a frequent and well-observed phenomenon, with persons often being addressed in such a manner quickly picking up on it.

[The Selkie]

Swerting entered first, still on horseback. The group let the horses walk, going slowly, gracefully. Once they were inside and stood before the mayor, Swerting dismounted. A companion of hers did likewise and was given the reins of her horse. Swerting took off her hat as well, tucking it under her left arm and letting her braided, brunette hair fall over her shoulders, a scene that was somewhat emphasised by her shaking her head slightly to move the locks away from her face. She leaned her left arm, hat included, on her sabre, while offering her right to the mayor. Her eyes darted around the settlement scanning the surroundings, which just made her smile somewhat fainter as she appeared to be concerned.

"Herr Schult*, it's nice to see you again. It's been a while. I see everyone is on edge here. Nervous. Has there been a raid or other attack?", she sounded genuinely concerned about their safety, "if it helps, I bring good news. A vessel docked just an hour ago, bringing riches and goods. Friends, Herr Schult, we came to negotiate a transport and trade agreement, per custom. Would the time now be convenient for you to tend to such affairs and have us as guests until we can make a deal?"

OOC: Schult* - Low Prut for "mayor", especially the mayor of a village or small town; the honorific "Herr" is always used for males (and "Frau" for females), followed by a title if the person has a title. Regardless of fluency in a foreign language, in formal encounters and greetings Prut unconsciously switch back to Low Prut. This is a frequent and well-observed phenomenon, with persons often being addressed in such a manner quickly picking up on it.

Note: Quote modified by removal of spoiler tags around the OOC-segment.

Lách nodded. "Yes, Ceannfort* Swerting, you can stay for as long as you need or like!", he replied to the second question, before motioning to several of his men and women. "Take good care of the horses and the men, will you? Now, please follow me, Ceannfort."
He turned around and waited a short moment before setting himself into motion in the direction of his house, doubling as the mayor's residence. He was, much like his small town, a simple man with simple needs, which included a roof over his head and four walls to hold it.
It was a small stone building with a thatched roof, with vines growing on one wall, a small garden of herbs and with a sheep and a small porch, where his dear old mother sat and looked at the street, always complaining about "dem kids with their noise!"
She eyed Swerting suspiciously. "You're not here to court my son, now are you?"
"Mother..."
"Yes, yes, when I was your age, young men came to me to court me!", she told while raising up. "But maybe you people have the women courting the men? I don't know, but remember, that he was married already and has a daughter!"
Lách put the hand on the door, as he stood besides his old mother. "Let's go inside.", he said, stuffing a laugh and opening the entrance.

Ceannfort means a military Commander, especially in medieval Selkie. Today, it can also mean a higher ranking police officer. In a manner analogous to the costum of other cultures, Selkie used it as a honorific for military commanders, especially those respected by them.

[Neo Prutenia]

Swerting's group stayed with the residents of Cuan. No need to bother their leader or their host with their presence. The town seemed now relaxed enough. Maybe they were just on edge because of the unannounced visit. Then again, it's not like they were screaming, shooting, and sabre-rattling when they came to them. They followed intructions and mingled with the townspeople, trying their best to avoid misunderstandings and causing shenanigans as many of them were only at a basic level of speaking and understanding the local language. When necessary they formed three smaller cliques each with one guy directing them and acting as interpreters when necessary, as those three seemed to be acquainted enough with the Selkie language as spoken here. Although, they were only needed when something more complex than 'thank you', ' hello', 'my name is...', etc. had to be conveyed to the locals and vice versa. They also mimicked Swerting's gesture; whenever they liked someone or felt someone had done them a favour they offered their Lebkuchen ration as a gift. They did insist on the other person taking the gift, but didn't insist on being gifted back, although they did accept it with joy and thanked them.

Their commander just went after Lách, casually strolling and looking at the houses. She liked the charm this settlement had; it reminded her of the villages and old towns back home. Waalshoben was constructed in a recent style, and while mainly made of wood, it incorporated timber-framing techniques and tiled roofs, the so-called "beaver tail" tiles, both practical designs. The timber framing was chosen to impress visitors, as they were often lacquered, painted, and decorated to look pretty, while the tiles prevented fires from spreading from building to building. So yes, she could really appreciate the elegance and beauty of such a simple stone house with thatch and vines. It had such a tranquil property about it. She didn't mind when the mayor's mother made her remarks, and she avoided commenting right away. Lách appeared to have his own way of dealing with it.

"I'm afraid that wouldn't be the case. Nor would I be a good match." She gave the mother a quick nod and entered after Lách. She looked around for a spot to place her hat and sabre, as it would be rude for her to be armed in someone's home. She also tried to see if that daughter Lách's mother mentioned was anywhere nearby. For one thing, she didn't want to talk business with Lách in front of the child, and she was s till a bit concerned that Lách didn't answer her first question about raids. In her mind, he probably avoided to talk about it in the open as not to scare or remind the townsfolk. And for another thing, she didn't want to leave a very sharp, very dangerous, and very much lethal instrument around completely unattended if a child was running around and might get the idea to play with the foreign object in its house while no one was looking.

[The Selkie]

Swerting's group stayed with the residents of Cuan. No need to bother their leader or their host with their presence. The town seemed now relaxed enough. Maybe they were just on edge because of the unannounced visit. Then again, it's not like they were screaming, shooting, and sabre-rattling when they came to them. They followed intructions and mingled with the townspeople, trying their best to avoid misunderstandings and causing shenanigans as many of them were only at a basic level of speaking and understanding the local language. When necessary they formed three smaller cliques each with one guy directing them and acting as interpreters when necessary, as those three seemed to be acquainted enough with the Selkie language as spoken here. Although, they were only needed when something more complex than 'thank you', ' hello', 'my name is...', etc. had to be conveyed to the locals and vice versa. They also mimicked Swerting's gesture; whenever they liked someone or felt someone had done them a favour they offered their Lebkuchen ration as a gift. They did insist on the other person taking the gift, but didn't insist on being gifted back, although they did accept it with joy and thanked them.

Their commander just went after Lách, casually strolling and looking at the houses. She liked the charm this settlement had; it reminded her of the villages and old towns back home. Waalshoben was constructed in a recent style, and while mainly made of wood, it incorporated timber-framing techniques and tiled roofs, the so-called "beaver tail" tiles, both practical designs. The timber framing was chosen to impress visitors, as they were often lacquered, painted, and decorated to look pretty, while the tiles prevented fires from spreading from building to building. So yes, she could really appreciate the elegance and beauty of such a simple stone house with thatch and vines. It had such a tranquil property about it. She didn't mind when the mayor's mother made her remarks, and she avoided commenting right away. Lách appeared to have his own way of dealing with it.

"I'm afraid that wouldn't be the case. Nor would I be a good match." She gave the mother a quick nod and entered after Lách. She looked around for a spot to place her hat and sabre, as it would be rude for her to be armed in someone's home. She also tried to see if that daughter Lách's mother mentioned was anywhere nearby. For one thing, she didn't want to talk business with Lách in front of the child, and she was s till a bit concerned that Lách didn't answer her first question about raids. In her mind, he probably avoided to talk about it in the open as not to scare or remind the townsfolk. And for another thing, she didn't want to leave a very sharp, very dangerous, and very much lethal instrument around completely unattended if a child was running around and might get the idea to play with the foreign object in its house while no one was looking.

While the people outside were mingling with the foreign horsemen, offering them not only to take care of the horses but also of them by offering them a good lunch, stew and bread, Lách entered the room with a table with two benches, the family table. The Main Room of the house was simple and easy with table and benches, as well as two small chests and a chimney, over which a stew boiled peacefully. The smell of cooking carrots and onions wafted through the air - a good Stobhach.
A door led to the small garden, a small opened trapdoor went down to the cellar.
"Gwen, are you here?", Lách called, before turning to his guest. "Please have a seat and relax. Gwen, we have guests!"
"Dionach?", a female voice replied, some clattering was heard downstairs.
"No."
"Oh, bugger.", the voice replied, this time a little bit softer and strained. "Wanted to put my dagger through his throat for what his men did to Marla..."
"You're not alone with that - let me help you!" Straining the father took a small package from the trapdoor, followed by a larger one, which he carried to the table.
Meanwhile, a young woman stepped up the ladder, black haired and blue eyed, a face soft and sweet, with strong arms and legs and wearing Éadach Obaire, which didn't really tell much about her physique. At her side was a long and mean looking dagger, together with some other tools and things needed in everyday life on a strong belt.
She looked over to Swerting, dragging up a third package. "So you are our visitor - welcome to Cuan!", she said slowly and smiling, she didn't know, how well she spoke their language. "I am Gwen Lách of the Tribe of Galway, his daughter and keeper of the house. You look like you would need a good meal!"

[Neo Prutenia]

Swerting picked a spot next to the door to leave her equipment. She just leaned the sword carefully against the wall and balanced the hat on it. Then she basically followed Lách, but remained in the main room. She was just about to chose a place to sit when she heard the exchange between father and daughter. She thought about helping them with the packages, but decided not to interfere. At least not until asked to do so. Last thing she wanted was to break some local custom about hospitality, and they were quickly done with it anyway. Swerting liked the flow-y cloths of the Selkie, though she didn't spend much time enjoying Gwen's. She checked up the wicked dagger on her belt. That wasn't something that looked appropriate for a kitchen, unless someone was keen on slaughtering a cow on the spot and cutting it into pieces right away. Why would she be armed in her own home? was one of the thoughts that went through her mind.

"Thank you. Lanna Swerting of Waalshoben, cavalrywoman and guardian of the trade post. And you would be right, young Gwen, a good meal would be great."

[The Order of the Teutonic Knights]

Marienburg in 1450
A bustling city, nearly bursting with life was before the spectator, especially in the morning, as the city awaked to the bells of the Kathedrale Sankt Erich.
The fisherman fished, the bakerman baked, to the bells of Sankt Erich, to the big bells as loud as the thunder, to the little bells soft as a psalm - and they were heard, all over the city, in every house and street, in every nook and cranny and of course in the Marienburg itself, the gigantic castle, which began as a small watchtower centuries ago.
But the military function of the castle was secondary today, it was the political function that mattered - around three million people lived in the lands controlled by the Order of the Teutonic Knights, mostly farmers and craftsmen, no warriors. That was, what the Order and its knights were for.
The highest of them was the Hochmeister, an aged and seasoned knight combining the political and military aspects of the country. He controlled the monastaries, most of the cities bowed to his will, he had a loyal army.
However, there were people working for him, giving him ideas and taking loads off his shoulders. Among them were his Schatzmeister, Anton vom Weiten Feld, and his Marschall, Martin Schnittner, the actual leader of the army, who stood in the office with their Hochmeister.
"Our treasury is empty, our army decaying - are there any good news?", the leader asked them with a heavy sigh.
The two other men exchanged glances. "There might be.", Schnitter said - the Hochmeister perked up. "For training an army, we need to fight a war, for rescuing our economy, we need money, wars bring loot and therefore money."
"That is nice and fine, but against who?", the Hochmeister asked.
"Heathens.", the Hochmeister mumbled. "Enough of those people around, but many too strong even with God at our side."
Silence reigned for a bit between the three men.
"The Selkie-Lands.", the Schatzmeister said, "Merchants say, that their leaders are weak and their defense nearly not existing - and the lands are rich."
That hung in the air for a bit.
"Do it, but let it look like a crusade."

---

Heinrich von Marienburg was a travelling monk, always searching the Beauty in God's Creation, while He guided him and his companion through the territories of the Order and beyond.
And beyond he was, on his way on God's Seas to see another part of His doing.
Sadly, he was seasick from the moment he stepped aboard the ship. His travelling companions Martin von Heimelsburg and their two horses fared much better.
And so, the missionary stumbled down the plank to Waalshoben, where he fell to his knees. "God, Allmighty, thank you for guiding us safely to shore! Thank you for this martyry to finally end!"
"It wasn't that bad.", Martin said with a smile, while leading the horses down.
He overplayed, that the two of them didn't look very healthy, too.
And so, they were here - in Selkie Lands, where heathens housed. Time to spread the Word of God!, he thought, Or to sightsee, whatever floats their boat...

[The Selkie]

Swerting picked a spot next to the door to leave her equipment. She just leaned the sword carefully against the wall and balanced the hat on it. Then she basically followed Lách, but remained in the main room. She was just about to chose a place to sit when she heard the exchange between father and daughter. She thought about helping them with the packages, but decided not to interfere. At least not until asked to do so. Last thing she wanted was to break some local custom about hospitality, and they were quickly done with it anyway. Swerting liked the flow-y cloths of the Selkie, though she didn't spend much time enjoying Gwen's. She checked up the wicked dagger on her belt. That wasn't something that looked appropriate for a kitchen, unless someone was keen on slaughtering a cow on the spot and cutting it into pieces right away. Why would she be armed in her own home? was one of the thoughts that went through her mind.

"Thank you. Lanna Swerting of Waalshoben, cavalrywoman and guardian of the trade post. And you would be right, young Gwen, a good meal would be great."

"Wonderful!", the young woman cheered, before stepping up to the pot over the fire. "Today will be Stobhach, a good stew. Anything special you would like to have it in there, Miss Swerting?"
While that went on, the father kissed his daughter on the cheek and left her with her work, before sitting down in front of the other woman in the room. "Culinary questions aside, we can speak openly in here. Yes, there have been several raids as of late. Three farmsteads north of here are gone. The men dead, the women gone, as are the children and everything of value. Coill nearly got burned down and if I were you and wanted sheepskin or mutton, I would go to Olann now, as they simply killed the sheep. We think, Dionach is responsible, but we can't prove it. The Elders of the three tribes in this region are silent as always and the other towns are on guard as well.
We don't know, when they will strike again or where they will strike again. Waalshoben could be on their list. Or Cuan. Or Rumps Post or Lodge or Leuda, we have no clue. Or the Caravans. It is troublig, to say the least."

[Ontorisa]

Zeprosk, Capital of the Tribe of the Katricories
Spring 1450

The men began loading their equipment and supplies into the longboats as their chieftain, Gorsk Frenkorv, watched over them. Standing at an ominous 6"2, clad in chainmail with a light leather jerkin over top, Frenkorv was a veteran raider, fighting in the Katricories' war of independence against the damned Suyereas. Following the Kingdom of Suyereas' collapse, the tribes were the first independent establishments to pop up. Of course, with the Jefros running rampant in the lands, Frenkorv could not take a sizable raiding force with him due to the promise he wished to keep to his people: an independent nation of Katricories. Turning to face to the large crowd that had gathered to watch his force depart, Frenkorv found the eyes of the townspeople and saluted them before shouting at the raiders.

"Tragork mazik lorskai bvieal!" He screamed in Toriska, clapping his hands together. "Hurry your asses up!"

The raiders, rattled by their leader already pissed off at them, quickly finished loading their supplies and equipment before hopping into their longboats. Frenkorv, saluting the crowd for a final time, embarked on his flagship, the Jarlkark. The men unfurled their sails on the longboats as the boats began to move out of the harbours.

[Neo Prutenia]

Heinrich von Marienburg was a travelling monk, always searching the Beauty in God's Creation, while He guided him and his companion through the territories of the Order and beyond.
And beyond he was, on his way on God's Seas to see another part of His doing.
Sadly, he was seasick from the moment he stepped aboard the ship. His travelling companions Martin von Heimelsburg and their two horses fared much better.
And so, the missionary stumbled down the plank to Waalshoben, where he fell to his knees. "God, Allmighty, thank you for guiding us safely to shore! Thank you for this martyry to finally end!"
"It wasn't that bad.", Martin said with a smile, while leading the horses down.
He overplayed, that the two of them didn't look very healthy, too.
And so, they were here - in Selkie Lands, where heathens housed. Time to spread the Word of God!, he thought, Or to sightsee, whatever floats their boat...

"Who is that weird looking bloke? Doesn't look like one of your crewmen."

"The one with the other traveler and the horses?"

"That one, yes."

"I'm not sure, we picked him up in some port I've already forgotten about during the Herring trade. He wanted a ride to the Free Lands, paid his fare, and generally talked about some myth and book most of the time. Speaks a language similar to ours, but he's definitely not from Prutenia. Calls himself Heinrich, his friend Martin, and his horse Barbara."

"How odd. Why would he call his horse by a 'people' name?"

"I think he might be into that sort of thing. Spent ages on the ship, never mentioned a woman."

"Well...eh... why is he here again? What was that - herrings?"

"Definitely not here to sell herring. I meant what I said; he just wanted to get to the Selkies."

"So he's not staying in Waalshoben?"

"You'd have to ask him."

The constable and the skipper stayed together a bit longer without speaking. The constable observed the two newcomers while the skipper mostly paid attention to the workers doing the unloading and transporting. After a minute the constable gestured to the skipper that he's dismissed and they parted. The constable went to intercept the missionary. Standing before him with his hands crossed and some suspicion in his voice, he addressed both of them.

"Welcome to Waalshoben. I'm Schuttmann Kleenbrook, one of the constables. You can't stay here. I mean literally here." he gestured around them "You and your horses are obstructing the workers and cargo. Please move out of the way. Otherwise, have a nice stay. If you're unfamiliar with the procedure, you can stay in the post for one night normally, or if you're here to do business for as long as you need to finish the deal. Longer than that and you have to buy a Quiddung. There's a tavern and inn up the cliffs next to the gate where you can stay, and two barracks if you need short-term shelter on the cheap. Any questions?"

---

"Wonderful!", the young woman cheered, before stepping up to the pot over the fire. "Today will be Stobhach, a good stew. Anything special you would like to have it in there, Miss Swerting?"
While that went on, the father kissed his daughter on the cheek and left her with her work, before sitting down in front of the other woman in the room. "Culinary questions aside, we can speak openly in here. Yes, there have been several raids as of late. Three farmsteads north of here are gone. The men dead, the women gone, as are the children and everything of value. Coill nearly got burned down and if I were you and wanted sheepskin or mutton, I would go to Olann now, as they simply killed the sheep. We think, Dionach is responsible, but we can't prove it. The Elders of the three tribes in this region are silent as always and the other towns are on guard as well.
We don't know, when they will strike again or where they will strike again. Waalshoben could be on their list. Or Cuan. Or Rumps Post or Lodge or Leuda, we have no clue. Or the Caravans. It is troublig, to say the least."

"Quite so, friend Lách. Quite so."

Swerting leaned back in her chair and stroked her chin and presumably non-existing beard, deep in thoughts and obviously now very much concerned. Her voice had shifted in tone; while she usually had a pleasant and jovial note to a businesslike pace and manner of speech, now she sounded like the proper war-woman that she was, and perhaps secretly always wanted to be.

"I've noticed it. The female guard on the gate who refused to lower her weapon properly, the several posts there, lack of people on the streets, as if everyone was in their houses, you ignoring my question, and your daughter bearing a knife on her hip far larger than she would need to make a good Stobhach, unless she wanted to slice an entire cow into it. I know such things don't concern us directly, but it would have been responsible of you to at least send someone south to us right after that happened. We would have at least offered to help. Would have been nice to have been warned in advance. I think I was in Coill only once rather long time ago. We rarely venture that far away, at least not routinely."

She crossed her arms and squinted her eyes. Her nose flared for a moment, making her otherwise fair face look grotesque and mean in that instant; it was an expression of disgust and anger.

"Taking women and children. Wirrwesan, that's what they are. Nothing more. That was no raid, friend Lách. In a raid you take the sheep, not kill them. You take what you can and leave, not fight, and murder, and kidnap, and commit raptio. Revolting. Revolting rapacious robbers."

She returned to her former tone and manner of speech.

"I apologise Herr Schult. Given the circumstances I understand if you wouldn't be willing to talk business. I originally came to ask you to send us assistance in delivering the goods to Cuan and sending your messengers to the other towns here, to come and trade. A cog arrived earlier today. We know that sometimes approaching ships are spotted by the less honourable or less scrupulous or simple less aware; a naive fisherman telling his mates he saw a trade boat, a sentry spotting ships sailing, or a robber watch being on the lookout exactly for that. Can't control and supervise the entire coastline all the time. As we speak they might be scouting the area dn preparing to intercept it, either from Waalshoben to Cuan or from Cuan to any other spot. If you'd send a group to join ours, even at least meeting us halfway, it will be a show of force that could act as both a strong deterrent and a display of neighbourly solidarity. Mess with one, mess with the other, and then raiders would have two towns and two armies to contend with. I still think this would be a good idea.

However, now, right now, I would advise you come with me. Or maybe not right away, but pick a group, a responsible one, and come with them to Waalshoben as soon as possible. We should join forces and make a mutual defence treaty. We've been such good neighbours so far. And this is a good opportunity to make it official. A Städebond could be formed to defend against raids and that Dionach you spoke of. I know the syndic, he'd agree right away. And by the sound of it, that Dionach doesn't seem to be an agreeable fellow. Your daughter called him out and marked him for death, and you suspect him of the attacks. If he possess such a force, then there's reason more to unite against the band he commands. Who is he anyway, if it is indeed him?"

[The Selkie]

[...]

---

"Wonderful!", the young woman cheered, before stepping up to the pot over the fire. "Today will be Stobhach, a good stew. Anything special you would like to have it in there, Miss Swerting?"
While that went on, the father kissed his daughter on the cheek and left her with her work, before sitting down in front of the other woman in the room. "Culinary questions aside, we can speak openly in here. Yes, there have been several raids as of late. Three farmsteads north of here are gone. The men dead, the women gone, as are the children and everything of value. Coill nearly got burned down and if I were you and wanted sheepskin or mutton, I would go to Olann now, as they simply killed the sheep. We think, Dionach is responsible, but we can't prove it. The Elders of the three tribes in this region are silent as always and the other towns are on guard as well.
We don't know, when they will strike again or where they will strike again. Waalshoben could be on their list. Or Cuan. Or Rumps Post or Lodge or Leuda, we have no clue. Or the Caravans. It is troublig, to say the least."

"Quite so, friend Lách. Quite so."

Swerting leaned back in her chair and stroked her chin and presumably non-existing beard, deep in thoughts and obviously now very much concerned. Her voice had shifted in tone; while she usually had a pleasant and jovial note to a businesslike pace and manner of speech, now she sounded like the proper war-woman that she was, and perhaps secretly always wanted to be.

"I've noticed it. The female guard on the gate who refused to lower her weapon properly, the several posts there, lack of people on the streets, as if everyone was in their houses, you ignoring my question, and your daughter bearing a knife on her hip far larger than she would need to make a good Stobhach, unless she wanted to slice an entire cow into it. I know such things don't concern us directly, but it would have been responsible of you to at least send someone south to us right after that happened. We would have at least offered to help. Would have been nice to have been warned in advance. I think I was in Coill only once rather long time ago. We rarely venture that far away, at least not routinely."

She crossed her arms and squinted her eyes. Her nose flared for a moment, making her otherwise fair face look grotesque and mean in that instant; it was an expression of disgust and anger.

"Taking women and children. Wirrwesan, that's what they are. Nothing more. That was no raid, friend Lách. In a raid you take the sheep, not kill them. You take what you can and leave, not fight, and murder, and kidnap, and commit raptio. Revolting. Revolting rapacious robbers."

She returned to her former tone and manner of speech.

"I apologise Herr Schult. Given the circumstances I understand if you wouldn't be willing to talk business. I originally came to ask you to send us assistance in delivering the goods to Cuan and sending your messengers to the other towns here, to come and trade. A cog arrived earlier today. We know that sometimes approaching ships are spotted by the less honourable or less scrupulous or simple less aware; a naive fisherman telling his mates he saw a trade boat, a sentry spotting ships sailing, or a robber watch being on the lookout exactly for that. Can't control and supervise the entire coastline all the time. As we speak they might be scouting the area dn preparing to intercept it, either from Waalshoben to Cuan or from Cuan to any other spot. If you'd send a group to join ours, even at least meeting us halfway, it will be a show of force that could act as both a strong deterrent and a display of neighbourly solidarity. Mess with one, mess with the other, and then raiders would have two towns and two armies to contend with. I still think this would be a good idea.

However, now, right now, I would advise you come with me. Or maybe not right away, but pick a group, a responsible one, and come with them to Waalshoben as soon as possible. We should join forces and make a mutual defence treaty. We've been such good neighbours so far. And this is a good opportunity to make it official. A Städebond could be formed to defend against raids and that Dionach you spoke of. I know the syndic, he'd agree right away. And by the sound of it, that Dionach doesn't seem to be an agreeable fellow. Your daughter called him out and marked him for death, and you suspect him of the attacks. If he possess such a force, then there's reason more to unite against the band he commands. Who is he anyway, if it is indeed him?"

As the woman ended her speech, a dagger was rammed into the table beside the oven and pot. With a hand around the handle of the weapon, her knuckles standing out, Gwen looked over.
Lách nodded - the right to speak was hers. And she used it: "Tyran Dionach of the Tribe of Kildare is a local Chieftain, not quite an Elder, but due to his land-ownership he has power. He is an own power-block within the Kildare-Tribe, highly opposig to Elder Niall, although they cooperate in one aspect. They want you, and any foreigner, gone.
He has men, money, power, horses, several towns and dozens of farmsteads. Opposing him alone would be unwise."
The last words were directed at her father, who lowered his head deep in thought.
"He is a danger and his sons look like they will be, too.", Gwen continued.
Silence.
"Father?"
"I am willing to talk business. If we stop our trade relations would mean, that Dionach wins, something I can't accept. I am also all in for this defense treaty and I am sure, that the rest of the town would agree with me." Lách leaned back and took a deep breath. "I would also like to include the towns of Caora and Coill. They are good neighbours to us and I would like to see them safe."
Gwen nodded - it was widely known, that the daughter of Cuan's mayor was his most trusted advisor and also something else. "Gwen will go with you, since I am needed here. She will take some of the boys and will give her signature in my name, if permitted by your law and tradition. You take Marla with you, okay?"
"Yes, Father."

[Ancient Blawell]

IC

It's a nice morning with blue sky, the sun is shinning brightly, with few puffy clouds, and light wind. After taking the daily morning face wash and clean my mouth with salted water, I put on my rather new uniform. I was promoted and became a 3rd Rate General last week. I am still having to get to know my troops better and today is another field training day. Although, there were and are other female generals in the military, being a young female general is not easy. Especially when my age is about the same or even younger than the majority of my troops. I noticed their eyes, making discrete glances at me, my body with temptation and quite inappropriate. But what can I do? I am their new commander, I can't be too harsh for if I do, it will be very hard for me to be liked and become part of the big family. "A couple of lustful glances are not going to hurt me or anyone" I mumble to myself as I step out of my private quarter, fully dressed in my uniform. It is not really a quarter because it is big, kinda like a medium size house in a complex of houses. The troops are forming square formations with leading captains standing in front of each square. With my officers, 1 female and 3 male, are get into their positions on my sides, I greet the troops. After that, I order them to move out to the appointed training location. The location is on another small island nation. This is a join exercise signed by the King so I must do my best. To get there, we are to be transport by a big friendly naval fleet. The fleet is a combined fleet from several nations and it is so big, it has many many ships, I did not see a fleet this big before...

We are getting along with the sailor of friendly nations very well... Then during when we are out on open ocean suddenly the wind become very heavy, the sky darken and lightning begin to strike. I order everyone to help our friend, trying desperately to get the water out of our ships. My officers and I jump into the action too. I can not see anything, the wind is too strong, salty sea water is everywhere as gigantic waves come over the deck. My eyes are burning, my clothes are soaking wet...

Time passed by and the bad weather suddenly disappear; the heavy wind and lightning is gone. I can feel the sun light on my skin. When I open my eyes, I see a beautiful view, yet strange scenery. I notice that I am laying on a beach, I do not know where I am anymore. Then I feel a hand on my shoulder...

- "General...are you alright? thanks god I find you here..." a voice say
I look and there, my only female officer is trying to help me. She is a good officer, commanding the Archery units, AO as I call her (Archery Officer).
- "Thanks..." I say and stand up with her help. Looking around I see my troops are recovering on the beach among them are debris of our ships. There are horses that survived too and are being calm down by our cavalrymen.
- "General, do you know where are we?" the troops ask with concerned voice
- "No, I don't but we will find out soon!" I reply with honest and look ... and see a village at a far distance.
- "We should go to that village and ask" my female officer says
- "yes but we should be cautious too" one of the male officers says, he's the Infantry Officer or IO for short.
- "Maybe I should take a small group and scout that village before hand?" another male officer says, he's the Cavalry Officer or CO.
- "Good idea, you, you and you come with me. We will scout ahead" I says as pointing my finger to select my party. I selected the female officer, Archery Officer or AO, and 2 regular cavalry-men.
- "let me go with you" other officers say
- "No, you guys are staying with the troops. They need you should we encounter troubles...and please do the count to see if lost anyone...and help anyone that injured too..." I reply before get on a horse and head to the village.

I tell my horse to run with medium speed, leading my small scout team in a line formation. I feel nervous as this is not an exercise/training mission any more. I have hear about groups of people or people disappeared before, and rumor about gigantic storm that sent big ship and fleet down the bottom of the ocean or sent them to mysterious lands, but we are a 10,000 strong division on a massive multinational naval fleet, "how could this be happening...???" I mumble in my head. I notice the strange scenery along the route, there are strange vegetables and small animals that are not seen on our island...

[Neo Prutenia]

As the woman ended her speech, a dagger was rammed into the table beside the oven and pot. With a hand around the handle of the weapon, her knuckles standing out, Gwen looked over.
Lách nodded - the right to speak was hers. And she used it: "Tyran Dionach of the Tribe of Kildare is a local Chieftain, not quite an Elder, but due to his land-ownership he has power. He is an own power-block within the Kildare-Tribe, highly opposig to Elder Niall, although they cooperate in one aspect. They want you, and any foreigner, gone.
He has men, money, power, horses, several towns and dozens of farmsteads. Opposing him alone would be unwise."
The last words were directed at her father, who lowered his head deep in thought.
"He is a danger and his sons look like they will be, too.", Gwen continued.
Silence.
"Father?"
"I am willing to talk business. If we stop our trade relations would mean, that Dionach wins, something I can't accept. I am also all in for this defense treaty and I am sure, that the rest of the town would agree with me." Lách leaned back and took a deep breath. "I would also like to include the towns of Caora and Coill. They are good neighbours to us and I would like to see them safe."
Gwen nodded - it was widely known, that the daughter of Cuan's mayor was his most trusted advisor and also something else. "Gwen will go with you, since I am needed here. She will take some of the boys and will give her signature in my name, if permitted by your law and tradition. You take Marla with you, okay?"
"Yes, Father."[/quote][/quote]

"Point taken. Gwen, would you mind waiting for me. Pick your choice of companions and meet me with my group." she turned to Lách "She can talk and sign for you if she has your permission. It's a bit unorthodox, but nothing that hasn't been done before, and it will probably happen in the future again. Nothing to make an issue off. Now, what is a good issue is trade and threshing. The trade between us, and the threshing of those who wish us ill. And while the threshing will have to wait, I'm glad that our usual business will not."

Swerting visibly relaxed and made herself more comfortable in the chair. While shifting her position she tapped her fingers on the side of her head just above her ear thinking about something.

"Well, like I said, and escort from your guys to join our cart convoy would be grand. It's a big shipment. Honey, mead, and beer this time. Sweets too, but not that much. If I understood it correctly, there should be around seven carts worth of it, so next to the people crewing the carts, I'd prefer having at least four horsemen per cart. So, twenty eight at minimum, plus another twenty, ten front, ten back, as the usual patrol. Thing is, that would take up half my unit, and I'd prefer not to leave Waalshoben with only so little of it's security force. Someone could get the wrong idea. Especially now that i know raiders are actively rampaging through the region and some lunatic explicitly wants to throw us back into the sea beyond the White Cliffs. If Gwen and her group could stay overnight and help us tomorrow, that would be brilliant. As for payment, the usual rate in gold and silver, as previously agreed. Nothing's changed there. The skipper of the ship said he'd prefer other goods instead of money if you have them. He is looking for copper in equal value, or as much as you can spare. I don't know why exactly, but yes, copper, ore or smelted. I assume someone wants to make something out of bronze somewhere. I don't ask such details. Regardless of what you choose to exchange it for, we're going to be lighter when we return, hence quicker, so our security details should suffice. We'd only rely on you to help us bring the goods to Cuan. Although, we'd certainly appreciate it if you'd help us get back the payment to Waalshoben. That would be grand too."

[The Selkie]

As the woman ended her speech, a dagger was rammed into the table beside the oven and pot. With a hand around the handle of the weapon, her knuckles standing out, Gwen looked over.
Lách nodded - the right to speak was hers. And she used it: "Tyran Dionach of the Tribe of Kildare is a local Chieftain, not quite an Elder, but due to his land-ownership he has power. He is an own power-block within the Kildare-Tribe, highly opposig to Elder Niall, although they cooperate in one aspect. They want you, and any foreigner, gone.
He has men, money, power, horses, several towns and dozens of farmsteads. Opposing him alone would be unwise."
The last words were directed at her father, who lowered his head deep in thought.
"He is a danger and his sons look like they will be, too.", Gwen continued.
Silence.
"Father?"
"I am willing to talk business. If we stop our trade relations would mean, that Dionach wins, something I can't accept. I am also all in for this defense treaty and I am sure, that the rest of the town would agree with me." Lách leaned back and took a deep breath. "I would also like to include the towns of Caora and Coill. They are good neighbours to us and I would like to see them safe."
Gwen nodded - it was widely known, that the daughter of Cuan's mayor was his most trusted advisor and also something else. "Gwen will go with you, since I am needed here. She will take some of the boys and will give her signature in my name, if permitted by your law and tradition. You take Marla with you, okay?"
"Yes, Father."

[/quote]

"Point taken. Gwen, would you mind waiting for me. Pick your choice of companions and meet me with my group." she turned to Lách "She can talk and sign for you if she has your permission. It's a bit unorthodox, but nothing that hasn't been done before, and it will probably happen in the future again. Nothing to make an issue off. Now, what is a good issue is trade and threshing. The trade between us, and the threshing of those who wish us ill. And while the threshing will have to wait, I'm glad that our usual business will not."

Swerting visibly relaxed and made herself more comfortable in the chair. While shifting her position she tapped her fingers on the side of her head just above her ear thinking about something.

"Well, like I said, and escort from your guys to join our cart convoy would be grand. It's a big shipment. Honey, mead, and beer this time. Sweets too, but not that much. If I understood it correctly, there should be around seven carts worth of it, so next to the people crewing the carts, I'd prefer having at least four horsemen per cart. So, twenty eight at minimum, plus another twenty, ten front, ten back, as the usual patrol. Thing is, that would take up half my unit, and I'd prefer not to leave Waalshoben with only so little of it's security force. Someone could get the wrong idea. Especially now that i know raiders are actively rampaging through the region and some lunatic explicitly wants to throw us back into the sea beyond the White Cliffs. If Gwen and her group could stay overnight and help us tomorrow, that would be brilliant. As for payment, the usual rate in gold and silver, as previously agreed. Nothing's changed there. The skipper of the ship said he'd prefer other goods instead of money if you have them. He is looking for copper in equal value, or as much as you can spare. I don't know why exactly, but yes, copper, ore or smelted. I assume someone wants to make something out of bronze somewhere. I don't ask such details. Regardless of what you choose to exchange it for, we're going to be lighter when we return, hence quicker, so our security details should suffice. We'd only rely on you to help us bring the goods to Cuan. Although, we'd certainly appreciate it if you'd help us get back the payment to Waalshoben. That would be grand too."[/quote]

The young woman looked over to her father.
Lách nodded.
With one swift move, the young woman pulled out her dagger from the table, sheathed it and went out, leaing her Stobhach to boil. One could hear her calling out names and commands, as well as people responding to it.
"Don't worry about the stew, it will be fine.", Lách said with a smile, which quickly vanished and was replaced by something far more predetory. "Unlike you, Ceannfort Swerting, if something happens to my daughter. She will be under your command, so I trust you with the most valuable precious I own.
Anyway..." Lách clapped. "...back to business. I am not sure if we have enough copper to get on an equal and fair price for both sides, but I will see, how much we can get together. If not, I hope the skipper will agree with me to substitute in silver.
I believe, our smith has a large stock and some traders in town might have something, too... have to ask, sorry. But I am sure, we will get together a good amount!"

Outside, Gwen assembled a good force for a village of two hundred souls: They were twenty, all young, some the best in their respective field and some not.
Most of them weren't concerned about the defense of their home. Doubled watches on the walls, sleeping with the sword, bow, lance near, sleeping in armour. It would be a rough night for the remaining townspeople.
However, they would prevail, Gwen thought, as she assembled her youthful force of young men and women on horseback with bows, lances and swords. Her father would make sure, that everything would be alright.

------------------------------------

IC

It's a nice morning with blue sky, the sun is shinning brightly, with few puffy clouds, and light wind. After taking the daily morning face wash and clean my mouth with salted water, I put on my rather new uniform. I was promoted and became a 3rd Rate General last week. I am still having to get to know my troops better and today is another field training day. Although, there were and are other female generals in the military, being a young female general is not easy. Especially when my age is about the same or even younger than the majority of my troops. I noticed their eyes, making discrete glances at me, my body with temptation and quite inappropriate. But what can I do? I am their new commander, I can't be too harsh for if I do, it will be very hard for me to be liked and become part of the big family. "A couple of lustful glances are not going to hurt me or anyone" I mumble to myself as I step out of my private quarter, fully dressed in my uniform. It is not really a quarter because it is big, kinda like a medium size house in a complex of houses. The troops are forming square formations with leading captains standing in front of each square. With my officers, 1 female and 3 male, are get into their positions on my sides, I greet the troops. After that, I order them to move out to the appointed training location. The location is on another small island nation. This is a join exercise signed by the King so I must do my best. To get there, we are to be transport by a big friendly naval fleet. The fleet is a combined fleet from several nations and it is so big, it has many many ships, I did not see a fleet this big before...

We are getting along with the sailor of friendly nations very well... Then during when we are out on open ocean suddenly the wind become very heavy, the sky darken and lightning begin to strike. I order everyone to help our friend, trying desperately to get the water out of our ships. My officers and I jump into the action too. I can not see anything, the wind is too strong, salty sea water is everywhere as gigantic waves come over the deck. My eyes are burning, my clothes are soaking wet...

Time passed by and the bad weather suddenly disappear; the heavy wind and lightning is gone. I can feel the sun light on my skin. When I open my eyes, I see a beautiful view, yet strange scenery. I notice that I am laying on a beach, I do not know where I am anymore. Then I feel a hand on my shoulder...

- "General...are you alright? thanks god I find you here..." a voice say
I look and there, my only female officer is trying to help me. She is a good officer, commanding the Archery units, AO as I call her (Archery Officer).
- "Thanks..." I say and stand up with her help. Looking around I see my troops are recovering on the beach among them are debris of our ships. There are horses that survived too and are being calm down by our cavalrymen.
- "General, do you know where are we?" the troops ask with concerned voice
- "No, I don't but we will find out soon!" I reply with honest and look ... and see a village at a far distance.
- "We should go to that village and ask" my female officer says
- "yes but we should be cautious too" one of the male officers says, he's the Infantry Officer or IO for short.
- "Maybe I should take a small group and scout that village before hand?" another male officer says, he's the Cavalry Officer or CO.
- "Good idea, you, you and you come with me. We will scout ahead" I says as pointing my finger to select my party. I selected the female officer, Archery Officer or AO, and 2 regular cavalry-men.
- "let me go with you" other officers say
- "No, you guys are staying with the troops. They need you should we encounter troubles...and please do the count to see if lost anyone...and help anyone that injured too..." I reply before get on a horse and head to the village.

I tell my horse to run with medium speed, leading my small scout team in a line formation. I feel nervous as this is not an exercise/training mission any more. I have hear about groups of people or people disappeared before, and rumor about gigantic storm that sent big ship and fleet down the bottom of the ocean or sent them to mysterious lands, but we are a 10,000 strong division on a massive multinational naval fleet, "how could this be happening...???" I mumble in my head. I notice the strange scenery along the route, there are strange vegetables and small animals that are not seen on our island...

Near Leuda
The weather during the last few days has been quite bad, but now it was good again.
Ideal to work on the fields near Leuda, to go out to fish and to hunt. While the town of seven hundred souls wasn't as large as she could be (or had been), she could still hold her own, thanks to her location in the mouth of the river coming down from Lake Lodge, where she controlled half of the mouth and the fords there.
The towns Rump's Post and Launceston didn't exactly fold to the commands of the other town, but they ageed on certain things, like that they weren't agreeing.
To call it 'tensions' was a bit too much, but not by a long shot. All three of them wanted the lucrative trade with Forfar and the ships, which didn't continue their journey to Waalshoben.
Finnegan Eitil of the Tribe of Wicklow was a guardsman, a mounted archer to patrol the fields from more or less (more less) comfortable streets, while overlooking everything from his horseback. He was on his way from the small town, from Leuda, down to his route today near the beaches.
Maybe he would have to scare off some scavangers from a shipwreck, if there was one, after the storm, but that would be it. A good and boring day, all in all.
That was, until he saw some riders approaching from the path. They were led by a young woman, who was most definately not a Selkie - but were she and her companions raiders or worse?
He took his bow, a composite weapon, and took an arrow for small game. Killing them wasn't his aim, but... maybe they weren't raiders. Curiosity killed the cat..., he thought and put away the arrow, before raising his hand.
"Hail, travellers - what leads you here?!", he called loudly.

[The Order of the Teutonic Knights]

"Who is that weird looking bloke? Doesn't look like one of your crewmen."

"The one with the other traveler and the horses?"

"That one, yes."

"I'm not sure, we picked him up in some port I've already forgotten about during the Herring trade. He wanted a ride to the Free Lands, paid his fare, and generally talked about some myth and book most of the time. Speaks a language similar to ours, but he's definitely not from Prutenia. Calls himself Heinrich, his friend Martin, and his horse Barbara."

"How odd. Why would he call his horse by a 'people' name?"

"I think he might be into that sort of thing. Spent ages on the ship, never mentioned a woman."

"Well...eh... why is he here again? What was that - herrings?"

"Definitely not here to sell herring. I meant what I said; he just wanted to get to the Selkies."

"So he's not staying in Waalshoben?"

"You'd have to ask him."

The constable and the skipper stayed together a bit longer without speaking. The constable observed the two newcomers while the skipper mostly paid attention to the workers doing the unloading and transporting. After a minute the constable gestured to the skipper that he's dismissed and they parted. The constable went to intercept the missionary. Standing before him with his hands crossed and some suspicion in his voice, he addressed both of them.

"Welcome to Waalshoben. I'm Schuttmann Kleenbrook, one of the constables. You can't stay here. I mean literally here." he gestured around them "You and your horses are obstructing the workers and cargo. Please move out of the way. Otherwise, have a nice stay. If you're unfamiliar with the procedure, you can stay in the post for one night normally, or if you're here to do business for as long as you need to finish the deal. Longer than that and you have to buy a Quiddung. There's a tavern and inn up the cliffs next to the gate where you can stay, and two barracks if you need short-term shelter on the cheap. Any questions?"

Heinrich looked up and around.
"We are?", he said unknowing and then laughing nervously. "It seems, we are. I am very sorry."
Martin shook his head, scatter-brained as his companion always was, it was a miracle send by the heavens, that they weren't driven off the grounds by now.
The other monk bowed to the constable. "I am very sorry, too. Please send the captain of this fine vessel our gratitude and God's Blessings."
"Even if he isn't a Christian?", the older monk said while standing up, raising an eyebrow.
"He is a seafarer and if he likes it or not, it might come in handy one day!"
Heinrich nodded. "I taught you well. So, where to now?"
"The nearest village, I would say - could you please point us in the direction, constable?" Martin looked around a bit, grinning slightly nervous. They were still standing in the way...

[Ancient Blawell]

Near Leuda
The weather during the last few days has been quite bad, but now it was good again.
Ideal to work on the fields near Leuda, to go out to fish and to hunt. While the town of seven hundred souls wasn't as large as she could be (or had been), she could still hold her own, thanks to her location in the mouth of the river coming down from Lake Lodge, where she controlled half of the mouth and the fords there.
The towns Rump's Post and Launceston didn't exactly fold to the commands of the other town, but they ageed on certain things, like that they weren't agreeing.
To call it 'tensions' was a bit too much, but not by a long shot. All three of them wanted the lucrative trade with Forfar and the ships, which didn't continue their journey to Waalshoben.
Finnegan Eitil of the Tribe of Wicklow was a guardsman, a mounted archer to patrol the fields from more or less (more less) comfortable streets, while overlooking everything from his horseback. He was on his way from the small town, from Leuda, down to his route today near the beaches.
Maybe he would have to scare off some scavangers from a shipwreck, if there was one, after the storm, but that would be it. A good and boring day, all in all.
That was, until he saw some riders approaching from the path. They were led by a young woman, who was most definately not a Selkie - but were she and her companions raiders or worse?
He took his bow, a composite weapon, and took an arrow for small game. Killing them wasn't his aim, but... maybe they weren't raiders. Curiosity killed the cat..., he thought and put away the arrow, before raising his hand.
"Hail, travellers - what leads you here?!", he called loudly.

I was riding on my horse when I see a person approaching us. As the person coming closer I can see that it's a he and dressed in casual clothing. When I can see his face clearly, he stop his horse, rise his hand and greet us. I copy his hand gesture and reply back

- "Greeting! the storm bring us here...we are lost...would you be so kind and help us?" I says then dismount.

My female officer also dismount from her horse and stand beside me with the 2 cavalrymen stay on their horse behind us. By his clothing and weapons, I make an educated guess that he is a local hunter. I slowly walk to him and stick my hand out to make a handshake gesture.

- "My name is Truong My Thanh...Thanh for short" I say while holding my hand out and prepare to shake hand with the hunter
- "I'm ... Vy" my officer says after me and also stick her hand out with handshake gesture.

[Neo Prutenia]

The young woman looked over to her father.
Lách nodded.
With one swift move, the young woman pulled out her dagger from the table, sheathed it and went out, leaing her Stobhach to boil. One could hear her calling out names and commands, as well as people responding to it.
"Don't worry about the stew, it will be fine.", Lách said with a smile, which quickly vanished and was replaced by something far more predetory. "Unlike you, Ceannfort Swerting, if something happens to my daughter. She will be under your command, so I trust you with the most valuable precious I own.
Anyway..." Lách clapped. "...back to business. I am not sure if we have enough copper to get on an equal and fair price for both sides, but I will see, how much we can get together. If not, I hope the skipper will agree with me to substitute in silver.
I believe, our smith has a large stock and some traders in town might have something, too... have to ask, sorry. But I am sure, we will get together a good amount!"

Outside, Gwen assembled a good force for a village of two hundred souls: They were twenty, all young, some the best in their respective field and some not.
Most of them weren't concerned about the defense of their home. Doubled watches on the walls, sleeping with the sword, bow, lance near, sleeping in armour. It would be a rough night for the remaining townspeople.
However, they would prevail, Gwen thought, as she assembled her youthful force of young men and women on horseback with bows, lances and swords. Her father would make sure, that everything would be alright.

"Don't worry too much about it. The skipper said he'd prefer copper, as much as you can spare, but he'll accept gold or silver. Those you can trade anywhere and everywhere. He's a honest trader as far as I know, he'll make you a deal. Have it ready by tomorrow or the day after at the latest. He can't stay longer than two days. The seafarers depend on the wind, and now they are good for the return voyage. As for little Gwen, I trust in your judgement. If you're sending her with me, I assume she can handle it. I've seen her work that blade. The impression was that she knew how to use it. So, I think we'll be fine there."

Swerting threw him a wink and laughed. Then she stood up and shook hands with him one more time to signal that the deal was done. She didn't however move from her spot, and remained hovering over her seat.

"I think this concludes the business part. I'd say we're finished here, but you did invite me to stay for a meal and I certainly don't want to be a rude guest.

---

Heinrich looked up and around.
"We are?", he said unknowing and then laughing nervously. "It seems, we are. I am very sorry."
Martin shook his head, scatter-brained as his companion always was, it was a miracle send by the heavens, that they weren't driven off the grounds by now.
The other monk bowed to the constable. "I am very sorry, too. Please send the captain of this fine vessel our gratitude and God's Blessings."
"Even if he isn't a Christian?", the older monk said while standing up, raising an eyebrow.
"He is a seafarer and if he likes it or not, it might come in handy one day!"
Heinrich nodded. "I taught you well. So, where to now?"
"The nearest village, I would say - could you please point us in the direction, constable?" Martin looked around a bit, grinning slightly nervous. They were still standing in the way...

"Friend, relax, everything is alright. I just literally meant to move out of the way. Come. I'll show you."

Kleenbrook gestured to them to follow him. Oddly he directed them towards the sea first and sharply turned left, in the direction of east, and left again, towards north, circumventing some unpleasantly smelling crates. The heat didn't help. Not at all, as it appeared to be some sort of tar. Although, he didn't want to bully them, that was just the quickest way to avoid all the stevedores who were running around carrying stuff. Those guys didn't look like they'd mind punching someone out of their way, so it was better to not obstruct them. Now, Kleenbrook pointed them towards a narrow street which went behind some warehouse and then to one of the three stone stairs climbing the cliffs.

"That path is used by the non-dockworkers during transport. You can pass with your horses, but you'll have to go one behind the other. The stairs aren't as steep there, so yes, even the animals will get up, just be careful. Up there is the main office. It's a timber framework building with dark green shutters and flowers in front of it. Opposite of it is the constabulary, that's the building with the small tower and clock, and passed those you'll find the marketplace. Cross that, go north and you'll reach the main gate, just after the stable and tea house. There's a dirt road going north-northwest through the hill lands. After a day's worth of marching, quicker on horseback, you'll reach Kohn. Eh, Cuan. Locals call it Cuan. It's a small fortified village and the closest settlement. From there you can reach other places easily. Just a fair warning, the area is somewhat dangerous because of occasional robbers and raiders. Slavers, the bunch. If you stay in the inn, next to the tea house, and wait til tomorrow, you can go with the trade convoy for shared security. Need anything else?"

[The Order of the Teutonic Knights]

---

Heinrich looked up and around.
"We are?", he said unknowing and then laughing nervously. "It seems, we are. I am very sorry."
Martin shook his head, scatter-brained as his companion always was, it was a miracle send by the heavens, that they weren't driven off the grounds by now.
The other monk bowed to the constable. "I am very sorry, too. Please send the captain of this fine vessel our gratitude and God's Blessings."
"Even if he isn't a Christian?", the older monk said while standing up, raising an eyebrow.
"He is a seafarer and if he likes it or not, it might come in handy one day!"
Heinrich nodded. "I taught you well. So, where to now?"
"The nearest village, I would say - could you please point us in the direction, constable?" Martin looked around a bit, grinning slightly nervous. They were still standing in the way...

"Friend, relax, everything is alright. I just literally meant to move out of the way. Come. I'll show you."

Kleenbrook gestured to them to follow him. Oddly he directed them towards the sea first and sharply turned left, in the direction of east, and left again, towards north, circumventing some unpleasantly smelling crates. The heat didn't help. Not at all, as it appeared to be some sort of tar. Although, he didn't want to bully them, that was just the quickest way to avoid all the stevedores who were running around carrying stuff. Those guys didn't look like they'd mind punching someone out of their way, so it was better to not obstruct them. Now, Kleenbrook pointed them towards a narrow street which went behind some warehouse and then to one of the three stone stairs climbing the cliffs.

"That path is used by the non-dockworkers during transport. You can pass with your horses, but you'll have to go one behind the other. The stairs aren't as steep there, so yes, even the animals will get up, just be careful. Up there is the main office. It's a timber framework building with dark green shutters and flowers in front of it. Opposite of it is the constabulary, that's the building with the small tower and clock, and passed those you'll find the marketplace. Cross that, go north and you'll reach the main gate, just after the stable and tea house. There's a dirt road going north-northwest through the hill lands. After a day's worth of marching, quicker on horseback, you'll reach Kohn. Eh, Cuan. Locals call it Cuan. It's a small fortified village and the closest settlement. From there you can reach other places easily. Just a fair warning, the area is somewhat dangerous because of occasional robbers and raiders. Slavers, the bunch. If you stay in the inn, next to the tea house, and wait til tomorrow, you can go with the trade convoy for shared security. Need anything else?"

Both missionaries followed the constable, listened intensively.
"Cuan...", Heinrich said with a nod. "It sounds good.
Thank you for your concerns and help, kind Sir, may God be with you.", he dismissed the other man, turning to Martin, who gave a gratious nod. "Well, then: Let's go with God!"
"Or we could sleep in the inn.", the other man said.
Heinrich stopped dead in his tracks.
"God wants us to go to this village immediately and that we will do."
Martin deadpanned. "Translation: You lost the money."
"I was robbed!", the older man defended himself. "Now, come on - let's go."
Marting shrugged. "Monks...", he said to the constable with a roll of his eyes, before he followed his companion.
As they went through the gate, they mounted onto their horses, choosing a light trot to make their way to Cuan before nightfall.

[The Selkie]

Near Leuda
The weather during the last few days has been quite bad, but now it was good again.
Ideal to work on the fields near Leuda, to go out to fish and to hunt. While the town of seven hundred souls wasn't as large as she could be (or had been), she could still hold her own, thanks to her location in the mouth of the river coming down from Lake Lodge, where she controlled half of the mouth and the fords there.
The towns Rump's Post and Launceston didn't exactly fold to the commands of the other town, but they ageed on certain things, like that they weren't agreeing.
To call it 'tensions' was a bit too much, but not by a long shot. All three of them wanted the lucrative trade with Forfar and the ships, which didn't continue their journey to Waalshoben.
Finnegan Eitil of the Tribe of Wicklow was a guardsman, a mounted archer to patrol the fields from more or less (more less) comfortable streets, while overlooking everything from his horseback. He was on his way from the small town, from Leuda, down to his route today near the beaches.
Maybe he would have to scare off some scavangers from a shipwreck, if there was one, after the storm, but that would be it. A good and boring day, all in all.
That was, until he saw some riders approaching from the path. They were led by a young woman, who was most definately not a Selkie - but were she and her companions raiders or worse?
He took his bow, a composite weapon, and took an arrow for small game. Killing them wasn't his aim, but... maybe they weren't raiders. Curiosity killed the cat..., he thought and put away the arrow, before raising his hand.
"Hail, travellers - what leads you here?!", he called loudly.

I was riding on my horse when I see a person approaching us. As the person coming closer I can see that it's a he and dressed in casual clothing. When I can see his face clearly, he stop his horse, rise his hand and greet us. I copy his hand gesture and reply back

- "Greeting! the storm bring us here...we are lost...would you be so kind and help us?" I says then dismount.

My female officer also dismount from her horse and stand beside me with the 2 cavalrymen stay on their horse behind us. By his clothing and weapons, I make an educated guess that he is a local hunter. I slowly walk to him and stick my hand out to make a handshake gesture.

- "My name is Truong My Thanh...Thanh for short" I say while holding my hand out and prepare to shake hand with the hunter
- "I'm ... Vy" my officer says after me and also stick her hand out with handshake gesture.

He moved his horse a bit away, never taking his eyes off the visitors.
His hand went from his quiver to the sheathed sword at his side, not quite trusting. It would be appropriate for a handshake to be conducted by either two mounted persons or two dismounted persons, not from a mounted one to a dismounted.
However, he had to reply to the greeting. Slowly, he raised his hand. "Finnegan Eitil of the Tribe of Wicklow. You are near a town called Leuda at the southern shore of the Selkie-Lands between the cities Launceston and Rump's Post. Where are you from?", he replied with a hint of curiosity in his voice.

--------------------------------------------

The young woman looked over to her father.
Lách nodded.
With one swift move, the young woman pulled out her dagger from the table, sheathed it and went out, leaing her Stobhach to boil. One could hear her calling out names and commands, as well as people responding to it.
"Don't worry about the stew, it will be fine.", Lách said with a smile, which quickly vanished and was replaced by something far more predetory. "Unlike you, Ceannfort Swerting, if something happens to my daughter. She will be under your command, so I trust you with the most valuable precious I own.
Anyway..." Lách clapped. "...back to business. I am not sure if we have enough copper to get on an equal and fair price for both sides, but I will see, how much we can get together. If not, I hope the skipper will agree with me to substitute in silver.
I believe, our smith has a large stock and some traders in town might have something, too... have to ask, sorry. But I am sure, we will get together a good amount!"

Outside, Gwen assembled a good force for a village of two hundred souls: They were twenty, all young, some the best in their respective field and some not.
Most of them weren't concerned about the defense of their home. Doubled watches on the walls, sleeping with the sword, bow, lance near, sleeping in armour. It would be a rough night for the remaining townspeople.
However, they would prevail, Gwen thought, as she assembled her youthful force of young men and women on horseback with bows, lances and swords. Her father would make sure, that everything would be alright.

"Don't worry too much about it. The skipper said he'd prefer copper, as much as you can spare, but he'll accept gold or silver. Those you can trade anywhere and everywhere. He's a honest trader as far as I know, he'll make you a deal. Have it ready by tomorrow or the day after at the latest. He can't stay longer than two days. The seafarers depend on the wind, and now they are good for the return voyage. As for little Gwen, I trust in your judgement. If you're sending her with me, I assume she can handle it. I've seen her work that blade. The impression was that she knew how to use it. So, I think we'll be fine there."

Swerting threw him a wink and laughed. Then she stood up and shook hands with him one more time to signal that the deal was done. She didn't however move from her spot, and remained hovering over her seat.

"I think this concludes the business part. I'd say we're finished here, but you did invite me to stay for a meal and I certainly don't want to be a rude guest.

"Little Gwen", huh?, the man thought with a grin. You will be surprised how good she is at working with a blade!
"If you wish to get going, I won't hold you here, I know that time is money and I won't hold it against you.", Lách said after the handshake, standing up himself, "I would like to have you for a meal, however. And Gwen's cooking certainly is a good reason to stay!"
The grin didn't move away. He knew, that some foreigners didn't really like the foods served within the Lands of the Selkie, but Stobhach, especially the one made by his daughter, was another question. From what he understood from other travellers before, there were rather similar stews all around the world, of course depending on the herbs used to spice it and regional availability of ingredients, but stews nonetheless.
It would be a wonderful meal, but also an awful one, if he would only eat it with his mother.

-------------------------------

Zeprosk, Capital of the Tribe of the Katricories
Spring 1450

The men began loading their equipment and supplies into the longboats as their chieftain, Gorsk Frenkorv, watched over them. Standing at an ominous 6"2, clad in chainmail with a light leather jerkin over top, Frenkorv was a veteran raider, fighting in the Katricories' war of independence against the damned Suyereas. Following the Kingdom of Suyereas' collapse, the tribes were the first independent establishments to pop up. Of course, with the Jefros running rampant in the lands, Frenkorv could not take a sizable raiding force with him due to the promise he wished to keep to his people: an independent nation of Katricories. Turning to face to the large crowd that had gathered to watch his force depart, Frenkorv found the eyes of the townspeople and saluted them before shouting at the raiders.

"Tragork mazik lorskai bvieal!" He screamed in Toriska, clapping his hands together. "Hurry your asses up!"

The raiders, rattled by their leader already pissed off at them, quickly finished loading their supplies and equipment before hopping into their longboats. Frenkorv, saluting the crowd for a final time, embarked on his flagship, the Jarlkark. The men unfurled their sails on the longboats as the boats began to move out of the harbours.

[quote="The Order of the Teutonic Knights";p="23035052"]Marienburg in 1450
A bustling city, nearly bursting with life was before the spectator, especially in the morning, as the city awaked to the bells of the Kathedrale Sankt Erich.
The fisherman fished, the bakerman baked, to the bells of Sankt Erich, to the big bells as loud as the thunder, to the little bells soft as a psalm - and they were heard, all over the city, in every house and street, in every nook and cranny and of course in the Marienburg itself, the gigantic castle, which began as a small watchtower centuries ago.
But the military function of the castle was secondary today, it was the political function that mattered - around three million people lived in the lands controlled by the Order of the Teutonic Knights, mostly farmers and craftsmen, no warriors. That was, what the Order and its knights were for.
The highest of them was the Hochmeister, an aged and seasoned knight combining the political and military aspects of the country. He controlled the monastaries, most of the cities bowed to his will, he had a loyal army.
However, there were people working for him, giving him ideas and taking loads off his shoulders. Among them were his Schatzmeister, Anton vom Weiten Feld, and his Marschall, Martin Schnittner, the actual leader of the army, who stood in the office with their Hochmeister.
"Our treasury is empty, our army decaying - are there any good news?", the leader asked them with a heavy sigh.
The two other men exchanged glances. "There might be.", Schnitter said - the Hochmeister perked up. "For training an army, we need to fight a war, for rescuing our economy, we need money, wars bring loot and therefore money."
"That is nice and fine, but against who?", the Hochmeister asked.
"Heathens.", the Hochmeister mumbled. "Enough of those people around, but many too strong even with God at our side."
Silence reigned for a bit between the three men.
"The Selkie-Lands.", the Schatzmeister said, "Merchants say, that their leaders are weak and their defense nearly not existing - and the lands are rich."
That hung in the air for a bit.
"Do it, but let it look like a crusade."
[...]

Silverport. 'Tavern' Hornpipe.
"You heard the news from Marienburg?"
"Yes. The Order is going to war, the times will be good for people to sell weapons."
"The Order is coming?"
"Informants say, that they are preparing to."
"The Order waring here, the Elders weak and the Chiefs doing whatever the ruddy hell they like... it would be a great opportunity for all, who seek to use this weakness."
"The rumour will spread, that there could be much loot to make here and rumours travel faster then the wind..."

[Neo Prutenia]

"Little Gwen", huh?, the man thought with a grin. You will be surprised how good she is at working with a blade!
"If you wish to get going, I won't hold you here, I know that time is money and I won't hold it against you.", Lách said after the handshake, standing up himself, "I would like to have you for a meal, however. And Gwen's cooking certainly is a good reason to stay!"
The grin didn't move away. He knew, that some foreigners didn't really like the foods served within the Lands of the Selkie, but Stobhach, especially the one made by his daughter, was another question. From what he understood from other travellers before, there were rather similar stews all around the world, of course depending on the herbs used to spice it and regional availability of ingredients, but stews nonetheless.
It would be a wonderful meal, but also an awful one, if he would only eat it with his mother.

While Lách was grinning Swerting was actually seriously considering what to do. The are cultural differences as well as cultural similarities between almost any culture, and Lách's people and Swerting's people where no exception to that. There are also cultural universals, in example, no culture tolerates an inconsiderate guest. Her culture certainly did not.

"I'm obliged by custom to never decline a gift, nor disregard hospitality, and I consider leaving now to be transgressions against both." She sat down again, smiling. "I'll gladly join you for a meal, if nothing else to solidify our relations. People who eat together are people who live together and occasionally fight together against those not sharing our table. Gwen can't gather a group of volunteers within the minute she left this room and we made a deal. Let her have some time more to pick her choices and assemble her followers. And if our enemies overwhelm us in the twenty minutes we need to share a meal, then we didn't stand a chance in the first place anyway."

She relaxed again in her seat and waited for her plate, pondering if she should maintain the conversations with Lách while he was tending to the food or keep quite and not disturb him during work.

"While we're at it, have there been any good news? Births or marriages? Some success or not?"

[Ontorisa]

At Sea, Unknown Position
Summer 1450

The armada of 84 longboats continued to drift, with the Jarlkark leading the armada. On board, Chieftain Gorsk Frenkorv, stood on top of the bow of his boat, watching the waters drift by and scanning the horizon for land and the sky for gulls. Behind him, his crew drifted around aimlessly, sleeping, eating, watching or playing the limited amount of games they could such as dice or cards.

"Fuckers!" One of the huskarls shouted as the longboat continued to sail into the unknown, the man clearly losing another game of dice. "I swear to the Gods, Jaalfgar is cheating his sorry whore ass."

"By the Gods Halfr, this is the sixth time you've lost. Give up." Another soldier pointed out to the complaining huskarl.

The troops laughed as Frenkorv stared out into the mist that was drawing in. It felt like summer, so it had to be a long time since they had left Zeprosk. Stepping down from the bow of the giant longboat, Frenkorv looked back to the men playing dice.

"Halfr, how long has it been ever since we've left land?" Frenkorv asked him as the boat rocked forward.

"About 3 or 4 months sir." The huskarl stood up and faced Frenkorv. "Why?"

"We must have ran into land sooner or later. Are there gulls near by?" Frenkorv demanded before he heard a horn blow from one of the boats near by as it drew close.

One of the men on the longboat drawing closer and closer stood up and began to shout.

"Chief! We've seen gulls to the left! We're near land Chief!" The longboat's captain shouted to Frenkorv.

Excited, Frenkorv sprinted over to his ship's bow and stood on top of it and glanced out into the horizon. As if the Gods willed it, the mist had parted, revealing a stone beach where Frenkorv's party could unload, forage and rest from the months at sea. Frenkorv then returned to his port side.

"Signal for the armada to land. We'll rest here for a few days and then send for citizens to settle here." Frenkorv nodded to the ship's captain before turning back. "Hello, old friend."

In the background, longboat's communication horns began to sound as the armada began making a bee line to the beach Frenkorv had spotted. The beach, was a stoney surface with a heavy forest in the background, a few metres from where the beach ended. There was also a hill overlooking the beach where Frenkorv could set up a watch tower to keep guard over the armada's landing position.

The tribe had arrived at whatever land this was. Today, they would land, tomorrow, they would explore and the day after, they would colonize.