NationStates

" Ours is an age of discovery and exploration, one where our previously small communities are now becoming aware of foreign nations hundreds, sometimes even thousands of miles away. Our homelands in the north, are only just now becoming aware of tremendously advanced nations far to our east, and south; quite possible, as some would argue, on par with our own. It may be some time before we come into contact with these nations, but we must prepare for the inevitable event. How will these foreigners act towards our kingdom? How must we act when we come into contact with theirs? These questions must be resolved immediately among our leaders before we run into this situation, lest we be caught unprepared. Will we look towards a martial approach to foreigners, and seek to secure our posterity's welfare by destroying and suppressing any threats? Or will we seek an approach based around commerce, so that we may purchase the means of our security? Or perhaps we will look to isolate our selves in an attempts to shut out the harmful and possible corrupting influences of the foreigners? We may very well chose a yet unforeseen course of action. Either way, several truths remain apparent for the coming era: we will be meeting foreign and yet unknown nations, we will determine a course of action against them and this action will either ensure our survival, or our destruction." - Exert from the writings of Steward Gohalying, Yahghil steward to noble house Avakarii, 3rd era 372

OOC: viewtopic.php?f=31&t=374927&p=28398201#p28398201

The Highfortress of Lorne
Throne Room

King Huidemar sits on the throne this day talking to peasantry and nobility alike. The people of Prador are happy with his reign, the populace is prosperous and thriving. He's been waiting for this message awhile and it's finally come. King Huidemar's spymaster and colony organizer walk in. The spymaster is the first to speak,"I've surveyed the lands and our standing army can handle them tenfold. If we send the army in we can get about 1/3 of the tribals to stand down and assimilate, even join our colony and help it thrive. The rest will however, be aggressive and we have have minimal casualties. How do you want to proceed with this?" King Huidemar, gets up from his throne with a very happy but, serious demeanor,"This is great, ok let's walk." They start to walk out of the throne room and down the streets,"Ok, we will do this quick and easy. We are going to use intimidation tactics, send in 240 soldiers, 12 soldiers per village. That'll cover 20 villages and we should get this operation over within 3 days maximum. I don't want force used unless necessary. So, do you have a list of the villages who agreed to annexation?" The spymaster responds with haste,"Yes sir, I'll make sure their treated with care and shall we have carts arranged for their families and belongings to be put on until we can get them out there with the colony?"King Huidemar responds,"Do that. If any resist put them down as a sign to the other tribals that we will not tolerate resistance. Are we understood?" Both men say yes at the same time. King Huidemar afterwards walks back to the Throne Room and his two guards join him on the way back.

The Spymaster asks a troop lead,"What's our situ- when he's about to finish that a group of approximately 37 tribal warriors come running out of the jungle armed with their weapons waving it above their heads, before he can react a tribal throws a tomahawk at the spymasters head and the skull is broken, brain matter splatters everywhere. This was a surprise attack 37 tribal warriors versus 12 armed trained soldiers not including the troop lead. The troops of soldiers are severely outnumbered and fight to the last man. The troop lead is in heated personal combat with a tribal warrior blocking his smashes and then feinting for his right leg knocking the tribal under, the troop lead then proceeds to stab the tribal straight in the chest. There are no prisoners and the troop continues back to the Capital. Several more fights occur throughout the colonization process and eventually the tribals are either pacified or...cleared out. It is time to send in the colony.

4th day

The colonization begins with little resistance and the tribals even help.

City of Valathfell, The Great Arena
Crowds of Storrmmarkers cheered and jeered from their seats surrounding the 'pit'. The 'pit' was a field of grass and sand arrayed with rocks and trees, along with in the center a shallow pool of water. Today that pool was soaked red as the last two fighters faced off while the bodies of thier other opponents laid nearby.

Today's event was a trial by combat, convicted criminals sent into the arena armed with axes, bows, swords and shields to battle each other to the last man to the death, all the while being spectated by a crowd of Storrmmarkers civilians and nobility. In fact today was a special occasion as the Fylkir himself arrived.

Fylkir Avenldr Greycloak was an aging man in his late forties, his long blonde hair and beard were already paled and graying, and his scarred face watched apathetically as the criminals were killed left and right to find their victor who would be released. The Fylkir held authority over the arena when the victor drove his ax through his opponents head. The entire crowd went silent and held their breath before Avenldr began to clap and the whole crowd burst into cheers for the victor.

Later, in Aegeti Castle, the Citadel, and Palace of the city, and home of the Fylkir

Avenldr rested his scarred and burly hands on his lap as he sat back against the Winter Throne, carved from a living yew tree and bone of the greatest beasts killed by the First Fylkir, the polished throne of white shines compared to the dark stone and wood of the throne room. Merely a moment after he sat down, his first guests arrived, four Kappi of varying ages, well armed and armored, escorted by two of his Huskarl guardsmen. Kappi were what people down south would call knights and barons. Before the throne and the Fylkir, they brought themselves to one knee and saluted to their lord by placing their fist across their chest onto their hearts.

The eldest of the Kappi spoke first, "My Konig, the ice melts quick and raiding seasons begin soon, we humbly request you declare raiding season to begin and select a primary target for our ventures."

Despite the size and build of the aging Greycloak, who was coated in wolfskin, he spoke as soft and as precisely as a spider,
"Indeed the time has come and on the morrow I will declare raiders, traders, and venturers freedom to set sail with the ice and winter storms dispersing, and as you came to request you will be granted the knowledge of our primary raid target...the Patridans of the far south bear many fruits that we can pay with blood to take."

Hand drawn map of Hir Gwydh


The day was very young as High King Ægrych the tall went for a walk with his son Crown Prince Dæydyr in the Sacred Grove of Andraste, upon the southern bank of the Lydwr. The birds chirped their songs, as the distant sound of peasants going throughout their day boomed through the streets. The two took a seat, upon a fine bench made of oak, High King Ægrych pointed to a nearby spot in the river and said to his son, "It is that spot where the sages tell me High King Hærvyu received his vision of the Mother. I was always fascinated with that story, with the thought of destruction and rebirth, of our mighty nation, our clan." Ægrych took a deep breath, "I've always been excited for the day of joining our ancestors in their feast." Dæydyr chuckled and said, "Hopefully you'll have to wait for that." The two sat and stared at the clouds, the oak and willow trees, the numerous sages tending to the forest, the many worshipers giving their offerings to the gods. The scene was idyllic, as the sun beamed upon the pair. They could have spent hours in the Sacred Grove, they had made way back to the Royal Hold, a fine building of stone, surrounded by statues of past Kings, its walls were covered in prayers, it was a magnificent building.

Ægrych took his seat in his throne, flanked by his wife, High Queen Aouregyn and his favourite general, Áyvykyr, the hall was filled with his lords, men from every corner of the island, heads of the seven other clans sat before him, enjoying their mead and mutton, as the High King listened to the troubles of the Kingdom, granting his judgement upon them, as he took swigs from his golden chalice. The High King wrote a letter to the Emperor of Tut'ut bah to En'rot, and beckoned forth a page saying, "Make sure this is delivered." Ægrych then continued his decrees, sentencing several to death, or to hard labour.



It was then a messenger came into the hall, clearly out of breath he approached Ægrych's throne and kissed his feet, saying, "My Lord, there is a revolt! The peasants have taken the hold of Tynvyk and have slain your cousin, Svydmyk!" Ægrych stood up quickly, unable to hold his anger, he threw his glass of mead at the wall and bellowed, "I shall have their heads! All of their heads! Fetch me my horse and army and I shall teach these dogs the meaning of pain!" And with that, the Clansmen headed to Tynvyk.

Field North East of Tynvyk, Dænmyr Province, Hir Gwydh, four days later

The army of the High King marched loudly, armour clanking echoed in the empty field, well, not completely empty, as an 'army' 682 peasants stood, holding whatever weapons they could find, or loot off the corpses of the guard. Ægrych was unimpressed with the peasants, many of them starving, they were weak, and ripe for the slaughter, he yelled to the nearby soldiers, "Men of the many Clans, we are united under one banner! We are united under the many gods who shall guide us to a noble victory, at the end of the day, we are favoured by the gods, and shall be granted a mighty victory upon this day, I command ye, let loose the dogs of war!" And with that the battle commenced.

City of Stockhorum, Throne Room of the Royal Citadel
The crown called for him. It sky-steel rim glistened in the decrepit cast of light from the windows. Gustav Svalbard stood facing his throne, hesitating to place the symbol of his power upon his head. Ever so slowly his right hand reached for it; shaking and sweating of fear, a deep indescribable fear. The sudden creak of the room's doors staggered him momentarily before he turned around and saw that it was his marshal, chancellor, and steward along with their plethora of assistants.

The marshal spoke first "My liege, the preparations for colonizing the Isle of Sky is complete. The 2,250 selected settlers are already making a temporary shantytown outside our northernmost port-city of Lua. We just need to send a fleet of soldiers to build a fort and to pacify any tribal filth."

Svalbard looked at him with an empty glare. Even a mere decade on the throne had taken its toll on him, with gray hair already staring to populate his head. Solemnly he responded, "No need to be so hurried. My steward has already reported that the tribe chieftains of the island have already sworn fealty to me. Nevertheless, send a small company of the Krigare to build a fort. And see if any of the tribesmen are willing to work for the crown as auxiliaries."

With those orders they departed to carry out their duties to send out their orders. He wondered if any of the his reforms were worth it. Again he looked at the crown sitting silently on his throne, its malignant essence reaching fro him. Svalbard remembered a passage from an ancient book his people had brought with them when they were exiled from their homeland centuries ago. He recited it allowed as his fingers stroked the crown's jewels, " Fate saw the jewel in me, and pawed the heart apart to have it."

7 Days later

A small fleet of Hulks transported 180 Krigare, mostly swordsmen and crossbowmen, to The Isle of Sky. It was the northernmost island and largest island of the Bay of Köldskada. The Krigare met with representatives of the tribal people met with them on the shore and guided them to were they think the best location for a wooden fort and beginnings of a town would be. After ordering his men to start constructing the fort, the captain was told that a band of young rebel tribesmen would attack them within the month for they resented giving up their lands to the pale-skinned foreigners.

Qarakah, Kana'an


In the metropolis of Qarakah, there was always something going on. The harbor saw spices coming and going out to the world, shops nearby loudly proclaim the quality of their wares, and the streets are filled with the scent of local food. The skies were largely clear, although it had freshly rained over the city, leaving a wondrous rainbow shining brightly over the ocean for all to enjoy. The priests were holding a procession as the people went about their business. Soldiers walked along the walls of the town, watching into the wilds beyond for any potential threats. Men worked, slaves toiled, ships came and went, and the beautiful morning air was fresh across the city. In all of this, the princess regnant was just starting to get dressed.

The newly-adult woman awoke upon a silken bed of red. She stirred a bit before standing up and starting her morning routine. The first thing to do was to bathe, as her culture had a very high respect for cleanliness in all forms. After a warm bath brought by her handmaidens, slaves she had appointed to the task of personal servitude, she began to dress. The first garment to go on were her leggings. Sheathes of leather she pulled up her leg until the mid-thigh, at which point she used a leather string to tie them in place so they would not fall. Next came her dress, which was royal purple with golden tassels. It took the form of a wrap, which she wound across her body expertly so that it hugged her figure, going under one shoulder and over the other. It was held in place by a small, unnoticeable pin. With the wrap finished, she quickly put a belt tightly around her waist, which completed her upper half for the basics. She would then bend over and lace up a pair of boots. With this done, all that was left was to accessorize. She picked out mostly silver pieces of jewelry: several necklaces, three bracelets for her right arm, and one bracelet of leather string on her left. A single silver armring, embedded with jewels, was slipped up past her elbow and onto her left arm. Lastly, she brought a shawl of deep blue and dark green to her outfit to complete the whole.

Finally, she was ready for her day. The princess would, first and foremost, have to attend to her duties within the palace. Taking a seat upon an intricately carved stone throne, comforted by a cushion of velvet, she listened to the chiefs sitting nearby rant about their troubles and how the young, inexperienced girl should just listen to them and fix all of their issues. She did do her best to address the issues, as annoying as they might have been. Suffice to say, listening to an old man ramble on about his rocks for half an hour was not the thing she would, first and foremost, consider to be fun. After such issues were attended, decisions made to fix a few potholes, a large transfer of grapes for a random feast's alcohol supply, and a brief meal later, she finally had free time to do as she pleased. At least, it might seem that way. Today was the celebration of the repulsion of one of many invading empires, and she had to work with the priests to put on a show. Thus, off to the temple she went.

Upon arrival, the priests were making their final preparations. She'd been told day after day exactly what to do, and so she would repeat it. The princess was ready to put on the show, a glorious reminder of the victory which El shone so brightly upon his people.

The show starts with men walking out on stage in warrior garb, that of the invaders. It featured plumed headdresses alternating with blue and red feathers, a bronze breastplate, and bronze spears which had been dulled. They began shouting out to the crowd to get them fired up, telling the story of the invasion in the tongue of Kana'an. They were met with Kanani warriors, running on stage in their robes. They bore sickle-swords mostly. Acrobatic fighting ensued, wherein the princess aided the priests with certain "Special Effects" involving oil fires and fake arrows. After a bit, the princess was led just out of view and was bound, being tossed forth as the last of the Kanani warriors fell, and the invaders having an apparent victory. They have fun with the evidently helpless princess, pushing her around, making rude gestures, and other such things. After a threat of defilement comes, she, in accordance with the show,
liberates herself with a bronze dagger and "kills" the invading king. This represents a supposed event whereby the king of the time had himself purposefully captured to get close to the enemy king, whereby he slew him in stealth. With this, more Kanani warriors jump from offstage and "slay" the remaining invaders. In the end of it all, the princess has her hands coated in gloves saturated with sap, and leaves an offering of a goat heart in the altar to El at the temple. The show is over, and NOW she finally has free time.

The princess spent the remainder of her day at the docks, simply observing. By evening, she had returned to the palace and ate a nice dinner in the garden, enjoying the quiet serenity of the area. Come nightfall, she was fast asleep. It had been a busy day, certainly, but she slept well knowing that she had days of peace ahead of her.

(OOC: All conversations are translated from Cheunh to English for your enjoyment)

"You will kneel before the Emperor you slime!" shouted the black clad soldier as he hit behind the criminal's knees, forcing him to kneel. "Ha. Now you are in your rightful place. My Emperor, before you is a man of unknown origin, who sailed through the fog into Kingsport, and tried to steal one of our castle-forged steel swords and a horse. He has plead not guilty to the charge, but he was caught by the city watch with the sword and horse."

"Thank you Lord Jarquen" said the Emperor as he turned to address the criminal, "Where do you hail from son?"

The translator speaks to the man and repeats the Emperor's words into his language, the man responds and the translator speaks, "Your Grace, he hails from the mainland as he says. He says he is a poor fisherman who was driven to desperation and was willing to risk the fog to see if there was anything. He says the fog is regarded as cursed and any ship that enters is doomed, no thanks to our fleet."

"So the fog is cursed is it? Well, let us keep it that way. For you crimes against the Realm, I pronounce you guilty. The punishment for such crimes is death, effective immediately. Throw him out the Mountain Door", spoke the Emperor as the assembled Lords remained silent. Slowly, one of the Dark Ones approuched the Fisherman, brought him to his feet, then shoved him out the door to his death. "As the Emperor decreed" said the Dark One in a deep voice.

As the trial ended, a messenger entered the Throne Room holding a letter from the North. "Your Grace, a letter has arrived by raven from one who calls himself 'High King Ægrych'. He wishes for an alliance by marrying off his daughter." The room was suddenly filled with the whispers of the Lords as the messenger finished.

"Oh? So the High King asked for my second son as a husband for his daughter? How flattering..." Emperor Rathis said as the room erupted in laughter, "But we shall see if they are truely civilized... Prepare my response..."


The letter was sent off. Was the Emperor really interested? No one could tell... However, if the rumors were true about these Northerners and they were indeed uncivilized apes, then the choice would be easy. The Realm doesn't need allies, the sheer cliffs that surround the island ensure the Tut'ut's safety. However, Emperor Rathis would give all marriage proposals their due consideration.



"Daddy, Daddy!! Grandpa is throwing somebody out the mountain door! Look!" Princess Myrcella said as she shoved his barely awake face to the window. It was around 10 in the morning, court started at 9. Robbert had decided to take the day off from his usual morning duties and was going to sleep in. Obviously, that plan failed miserably...

"Oh yeah, look at that... He must have been a BAD man!" Robbert said as he grabbed her and began tickling her. Myrcella burst out laughing, and after a minute of constant laughing, she was able to break free from her father and run to her mother. "Mommy! Daddy was tickling me and now my tummy hurts..." she said as she gave Robbert a sly grin, trying to get him in trouble.

"Is that true Myrcella? Well, we better get him!" said Arya as she picked up Myrcella and ran over to wrestle with her husband... The room was once again filled with the laughter of all three...



"My Lord, Emperor Rathis extends his deepest gratitude for your continued support at this time. However, we simply cannot afford an invasion of the mainland over an attempted robbery of a sword and a horse." said Prince Jaime as he spoke with Lord Graft over breakfast.

"You would if it was your horse!" Lord Graft said before laughing, "I understand, your Grace. I guess my emotions got the better of me. Justice has been served so all is well."

Prince Jaime stood up, shoke the Lord's hand and thanked him for the meal, and soon left Graft. It was always interesting with Lord Graft. The Brother-in-law of the Emperor, he always felt he should be listened to more than the other Lords. However, after a year of his constant "advice" the Emperor sent him home to govern his lands. Now, the Emperor just gets angry letters about little things. So he sents Jaime to placate him... An annoying job, but it comes with being son of the Emperor.

King Euric sat upon the great throne of Marhusreik, a throne that had been carved by his grandfather. It was nearly eight feet tall, and stood upon a great dais, at the head of the great all. It was carved with runes, and pictures of horses and eagles, and two prancing horses formed the back of the throne. Two men, clearly warriors, entered the room and prostrated themselves at the King's feet. "Rise." King Euric said, motioning for them to stand. "What news do you bring us?" "Grim news, my lord" one of the warriors said, "A band of haithns attacked one of our hunting parties. They slaughtered them all." King Euric's face turned red with rage "The haithns will pay for this attack!" he turned towards one of his advisers, "Send word to the Chiefs, to all the tribes. We march to war.

The fighting lasted two hours, and it could only be considered a butchering, as the army of the clan slaughtered the revolting peasants, one by one, taking heads as trophies, as was a popular practice in Hir Gwydh, the belief that taking the head of an opponent would mean that the owner controls the persons soul. Ægrych himself trotted back to his camp, about three kilometres from the battlefield, taking a seat near his tent, he could hear the screams, carried on the wind. His personal guard trotted back from the battlefield, dragging with them several men, leaders of the revolt, one of them being a sage, kneeled before the High King, they looked at his feet, dreading what was to come, turning to Prince Vyþmyr, head of his guard Ægrych said, "Have the sage drowned in the river. And I expect the other's heads to be on pikes before nightfall." Ægrych got up, ignoring the visible shock upon the soon-to-be executed peasants and entered his tent.

Ægrych had been conducting his devotions with High Sage Rhodri as another of Ægrych's sons entered his tent, Prince Tywyll holding a letter in his hand, "Father, a letter from the east is here for you, they are inviting you to their land to meet Órfhlayth." Ægrych nodded and finished his devotions, after he prepared for the journey, he sent a letter accepting the invitation.



The seas had not been calm, as the waves pounded the ships the sailors rowed as fast as they could, Órfhlayth nervously paced the deck. Soon, they approached the port, and docked, waiting for the portmaster.

Highfortress of Lorne
Throne Room

A troop leader limps into the throne room followed by 3 men. "My lord they ambushed us, they ambushed us.."these were his last words before he croaked over and died drooling blood all over my floor. The three men that came in with him were badly hurt but, proceeded to tell King Huidemar, that thirty-seven tribal warriors had ambushed them and hi spymaster was the first to die. "Did you Atleast kill them all?!" The soldiers respond,"Yes my lord. The tribals have been pacified and colonization is going to smoothly." King Huidemar says,"Fine now get cleaned up and treated." The soldiers respond hastily before leaving,"Yes my lord." King Huidemar calls for the castellan,"Castellan come here! I wish to speak of recruitment of soldiers to replace ones I've lost." The castellan comes running in,"Yes, my lord. How many to be precise?" King Huidemar replies,"I need 24 men to replace the ones that have been perished, they will not need to be trained by a deadline." King Huidemar then proceeds to call in the General of the Army. "General, bring back the 500 men I sent for the Northeastern colonization. Give them shore leave for a day or two to see their families then send half of them back. Then, I need 250 men to accompany the half of the men who went to the NE for a colonization effort to the south west. Understood general?" The general responds,"Understood, my liege."

War Room
Four Days Later

King Huidemar stands looking at a map sprawled across a table in the war room.
http://m.imgur.com/a/6jywx
The general walks in,"My lord, we've cleared the NE of tribals and are ready to send out colonist." King Huidemar responds,"Good, good. Soon, I feel as though we will need more trade alliances so I will travel to some civilized nations and ask for a trade alliance forth most and second most I will ask for a defensive alliance. Send for a diplomat. He shall accompany me on the trip there as well as 250 soldiers. We are traveling to the Northeast, the land of the civilized." The next day King Huidemar is ready to travel the distance. Along the way, they take the opportunity to set up trade posts on their route there. Now the journey begins.

It had been nearly a week since the Emperor had received word that the High High would be accepting his invitation and would make the journey. They had not expected them to come so soon, as the seas areally rough this time of year.

Robbert stood quietly, waiting for the Northmen to arrive. They had been spotted several hours ago hugging the coastline, attempting to find a port, one they will no doubt find. Robbert was surprised that they were able to navigate the fog that surrounds the island as easily as they did... But they too live on an island...

As the High King's Fleet entered the fortified harbor, one couldn't help to notice the black armored soldiers manning the walls. They all seemed to be looking at the ships and watching them for any sign of mal intent... As the High King's ship docked, several dock workers began shouting in Cheunh and began tying the ship to the dock.

Robbert still stood a short walk away surrounded by two Dark Ones and roughly thirty other Emperor's guard. He began to make his way to the ship, and when he arrived, he motioned for the translator. He whispered in the translator's ear, who after a moment, spoke to the High King...

"High King Ægrych, this is Crown Prince Robbert Rathis, of House Rathis. He apologizes that Emperor Rathis could not make the journey today, as another thing came up that needed immediate action. However, Robbert bids you welcome. If you would like, we have brought several horse drawn carriages to take us back the Rathis Castle."



Emperor Rathis slowly opened his eyes as he yawned. It was the God's day, so he was going to sleep in. And that he did. I bet the Northmen are here by now, hopefully they aren't as barbaric as I have been told. Rathis thought as he rolled out of bed onto the ground. This obviously caused a thud followed by the Emperor shouting, "By the Six!"

As he spoke, two Dark Ones burst into the room with their swords drawn. "My Emperor, are you okay?" Asked on in a deep voice.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just fell out of bed. I appreciate your concern. You may go." Rathis said as he stood up from the floor.

"As you decree." Saud the other Dark One as they shut the door in order to let the Emperor get dressed for today's festivities.

High King Ægrych stepped off the boat and onto the dock, once he saw his 'welcoming party', and after listening to the translator, Ægrych did sort of a bow, a sign of respect and said, "I see you are well, noble friend." And turning to the translator he said, "Tell the Crown Prince that I understand that the Emperor is busy, and look forward to speaking with his son." Órfhlayth hopped onto the dock, and bowed to the foreign dignitaries. Ægrych continued, "Yes, that would be nice, I look forward to the castle." Ægrych turned to address his sailors, "Do not make a fool of yourselves while I am away." Ægrych then smiled at the Prince and said, "Shall we go then?"

Death shall come upon a horse! Evil amidst a caravan
Walls shall be cast down, cities destroyed with fire
Fathers shall be slain, brothers shall be slaughtered
From the Sea came Regis Coronatur,
And to the Sea a son of Regis shall return
Woe shall the wicked reckon from that day!
Sons shall slay the slayers of their Fathers
Horses shall avenge their fallen riders
The Sea shall send help to its People
And the Mountains shall shelter them

High King Tomis Regis placed the book of sacred writings he had been reading on the gilded table near the round arch of a window overlooking the placid sea. Turning around he summoned Vespjo, Highest Prophet, to stand beside him under the great silver and golden dome of the Chamber of Scriptures. "Counsel me, Prophet, as to this alliance I would seek with Patrída." The Prophet, an old wizened man whose age nobody knew for certain, answered without hesitation, "My Lord, is not taught among the Scolja that our fathers and their fathers are of the same blood? It is wisdom to send such an embassy, for in my sight the future bodes darkly. And might it even be that someday the Island King may have cause of thanks owed to the Golden Crown, and pay it homage, and thus unknowingly fulfill what was spoken in prophecy?" "Prophet, you speak wise counsel. I shall send an embassy, bringing gifts of wine and gold, which shall continue westward until the time of our High Feast." Without turning round he begin dictating to the scholar (who stood nearby with tablet in hand) a letter to King of Patrída:


Three Hours later, in the Maritine Sea

A lithe white ship glided upon the smooth waves of the peaceful Maritine Sea. No one could possibly mistake it for a ship of war, for it was decked with olive garlands, and white silken flags hung from its masts. Its sailors were unarmed save for ceremonial swords, which would be of little use in a battle. A young man standing near the bow wearing a tunic and cloak of fine cloth of gold with a golden circlet upon his head turned to his equally well dressed older companion. "The Lord Dies Maris favors our mission with calm sea, Triarch Oratio." The Triarch bow deeply upon being addressed, and replied. "My Lord the Triarch Tirios speaks truly, for the Lord Dies Maris indeed favors peace among the just. Let us pray that the Islanders are not beguiled and deceived by the lies of the accursed Arzl Maris," and he spat into the sea, "but instead accept our alliance." Slowly the ship turned south and westwards, on course for the first of the Patrídan Isles.

The Great Steppe, Marhusreik

King Euric looked out upon the vast horde the stood assembled before him. The Black Banners of the King, the brown banners of Baira Clan, the blue banners of Stiur Clan, the grey banners of Hrabns Clan, the purple banners of Uggwilo Clan, the green banners of Hunds Clan, and the red banners of Thahsus Clan, all fluttered in the wind. The clans had answered the High King's call, and nearly 45,000 men stood assembled, almost all of them horsemen. "My brothers!" the King called out. "The haithns to our south have made war against us. They are fools, to challenge the chosen of Himnis. Now, they shall pay for their treachery. They camps shall be burned, their men slaughtered, their women enslaved, and their children brought up in the ways of the Marhusfrauja. These fool tribes have formed a confederation against us, the Chosen of the Lord. They shall all be struck down. When we have put them beneath our heel, we shall go then against the next tribe. We shall unite all the tribes of the Steppe to the service of Himnis. Then, the world shall be ours to conquer! To War!" With that, the King leaped upon his horse, and the Horde rode southward, to carry out the vengeance of Himnis.

Robbert smiled at the High King's last statement, "Indeed we shall, the ride is several hours and we will have to walk the path the the castle gate itself, but the carriages are very comfortable." As he spoke, he watched the young Princess come onto the docks before giving a bow. My wife is prettier... thought Robbert as he tilted his head in respect.

Robbert motioned for the High King and his daughter to enter the Royal carriage while the rest of his party were put in the carriage behind. As they finished entering, the two Dark Ones that had accompanied the Crown Prince grabbed onto the side of the carriage in order to ride along. The thirty Emperor's guard quickly mounted their horses and the convoy began the journey. As they exited the city, Robbert looked out the window to see five Tut'ut warships enter the harbor... The ships my father sent to shadow the High King and his fleet... The ships finished entering and the massive fortified harbor gate slammed shut.

They continued their journey through the countryside towards the looming mountian range that contained Rathis Castle. Robbert couldn't see it as it was obsured by the ever-present fog and mist, but he knew it was there. He turned to the translator and whispered in his ear. The translator then spoke, "Crown Prince Robbert wishes to thank you for making the journey here on such short notice. However, he is unsure as to what prompted you to seek a marriage with the Tut'ut people. He understands that you believe us to be honorable and noble, but there hasn't been a foreign visitor to En'rot in hundreds of years. He wants to know where you received this information from..."



Emperor Rathis sat quietly, listening to the birds and wind sing the songs of their people as he read one of his many books. "The Histories and Lineages of the Mainland" was the name of it. Aborak knew nothing of the people from the main land. His island viewed as cursed and his people choosing to not trade with them, the Tut'ut rarely see anyone from the mainland. The occasional seafarer who risks the fog and curse are soon captured and executed, ensuring the legend stays true.

As he listened and read, the Black Gate's (which protects the approach to Rathis Castle) horn let out a loud blow to signal the approach of a convoy. Although the Emperor couldn't see them, he knew it was the Crown Prince.

High King Ægrych chuckled and said, "My people may not have been to your land, but we have seen your ships, granted from afar, but your ships impressed us greatly. And I know your people are noble for at least you understand my tongue, which is a blessing. I come today to build a relationship between our two kingdoms, to band together and fight the outsiders, the mainlanders." Ægrych looked at the passing scenery, trees, grass rocks and said, "I also would like to attack the dogs of Albion. Who are less than men, surely I see it beneficial for both of us to check their power." Ægrych smiled and said, "I wish for you to be our shield brethren."

Marosis rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, one hand absently picking up one of the reports which threatened to collapse his desk. The sun had risen and set and risen again while he sat at the desk. There had been no respite from the cascade of letters, personal messages and official documents all written up following his declaration of war.

My own damn fault, he sighed as yet another stack was brought in to his presence. The servant, a scrawny pale thing snatched from a life of beggary by the tender mercies of the bureaucratic powerhouse of the capital, bowed deeply as he left. It was a small miracle that he did not collide in to something as he went, eyes firmly fixed on his shuffling toes.

The senators had reacted as expected, arms flailing and feet stamping as they realised that the Lexe had outplayed them. For weeks they had clamored to increase private landownership, a natural lust of those with everything to want more. Yet none had deemed it prudent to suggest a satisfactory way in which to do it. They had wanted the senate to buy it directly off of the smaller landowners, an act which was doomed to fail. They had then wanted the government lands, currently the only livelihood of thousands of the poorer working families, to be put up for auction. Another legal loophole that the gentry demanded of him.

Leaning back he recalled that moment he informed them of the declaration. "Fifteen thousand men, veterans nearing the end of their contracts of service, have been dispatched in to the lands of the Cao. Their mission is singular in nature: to rid the territory of all those who continue to resist the authority of the Senate." His voice had been drowned out by the end but that did not make much difference to him. They had tried to denounce the act as unlawful, reminding him that no vote had been called. His grin widening at the memory, Marosis let his mind retell it to him. "Dear brothers, the law is very clear: kata fem cannot be called upon without the majority vote of the people against a neutral sovereign state. We the Grya do not recognise the primitive pack nature of the Cao or any of our northern brothers as being considered a system of state."

Too young, they had been muttering during his first two Lexumate. Too untested a leader. He had been a capable leader against the Jivre incursion, unflinching during his term as administrator for the coastal city of Faelon, however he had not proven himself to truly be capable of running the great nation of Cair Lynn Folo. He was soon to see his fifty-second birthday and he had demonstrated his abilities plainly enough. He was going to carve out an entire province as further evidence.




The Capanii were in high spirits as they made the march north. They had passed the borders long ago, leaving behind the order of their home. Its replacement was unkempt wilderness, home more to beasts than man. Yet they smiled all the same, singing and shouting as the twin columns cut their way across unploughed fields and through unpoached forests. Scouts darted here and there, those on horseback picking out ridges on which to map the path ahead while those at an easy jog returning with fowl and piglets as often as with maps.

Dreggo Poile rod only ten ranks behind the vanguard, his valuable life kept protected by a heavy throng of heavily armoured lancers even as the columns of the army formed two writhing walls of flesh and iron. Taking in the land as it slowly rolled on past, the Kaon Hathan spared a thought for the thousands who had been joined the Ocyria's, wives, craftsmen and servants expected to deal with the lesser details of camp management. They were not being paid, instead relying on the generosity of the army's general to grant them a portion of the land to be seized. It was a risky business ascending the social ladder.

Robbert was smiling until the translator finished telling him what the High King had said. His face soon soured... Of course, the barbarians need our men to fight a war... Typical... Rathis thought as he began to whisper in the translators ear. "While we have had many problems with the mainlanders, Albion has done nothing to us... We find your distaste for them admirable, but we do not share your views. The Crown Prince also doesn't understand how you could have seen our ships so far north. They rarely leave the fog surrounding our Island. We shall see what the Emperor has to say about this." said the translator as the carriages reached the Black Gate and the narrow foot path beyond it.

As Robbert stepped out of the carriage, he was greeting by Lord Commander Davis who spoke in Cheunh to him, "Veo Hsisah, to Ect'asearcsi cart ch'acan'b vah vim to Nusbo bisnisi. Tah baper ch'at vizehn csei s ch'akasi k'en bah csit'eb." (OOC meaning: Your Grace, the Emperor is expecting you and the Northern barbarians. He wishes to get this business concluded with speed.)

Robbert quickly retorted, "Csei s csarcican't cart rot'ar bitbo. To Nusbo bisnisi morco ch'epasahn nen sir neo let'ir vim rutbici. To Ect'asearcsi csarcican't sasco csekop csei s cabpehn veah etah k'useso nan'ei can csosn'ah csah." (OOC meaning: This will be over soon. The Northern barbarians just want us for our navy and soldiers. The Emperor will surely refuse this marriage as they offer nothing in return.) As Robbert finished, he turned to the High King and his daughter, smiled and motioned for them to follow him through the gate towards the mountainous foot path.



Jaime sat on the stepped ascending to his father's throne: a throne that would never be his, in a castle where he will never be lord, in a land were he will never rule... So is the life of a second son? Do the bidding of your father, then your older brother, all for the hope that your brother will never have a son... thought Jaime as he looked up at the the House Rathis sigil, a golden lion on a red tapestry, that hung from every column and wall. How I wish for a war. I can finally prove my worth to my father and show that I'm just as great as Robbert.

As he was looking at the throne and sigils, the Emperor entered the Throne Room and he jumped to his feet, "Your Grace, we have received word that the Crown Prince and the barbarians are making their way up the mountain pass. They shall arrive within the hour."

Emperor Rathis smiled at his son, "Jaime, you don't have to call me 'Your Grace'. Anyways, we shall conclude this matter quickly as I will not accept my second son being married to some barbarian whore. You are a descendant of the Six, not some common Lord's son. The En'rot has three times the amount of people and four times the soldiers of this so called King. I have half a mind to capture these barbarian filth and send them to the sky cells... But that isn't very honorable. *he chuckles* They are our guests..."

The Fylkir looked down from his balcony at the heights of his fortified palace through the streets of Valathfell, where criers ran through the streets with Tala runes saying

The Fylkir has declared open raiding season, sign up to join raider parties at your local tavern or military plaza. The Greycloak has spoken that the Patridians in the far south bear wealth for our taking.

Along with a drawing of a longship.

Those papers and criers would travel all throughout the kingdom, and the first longships could be seen setting sail from Valathfell, private venturers for certain, major lords would organize a full raider force and a fleet, while less wealthy entrepreneurs set sail for early raids on their lone ships. A high-risk, high profit business to be sure.

Footsteps could be heard behind him and the Fylkir glanced back to see his eldest son greet him,
"Adrel, I suppose you are here to lead the Royal raiding force?" the Fylkir asked calmly

"Actually no father, as you know I have returned from my census of the kingdom, you will be receiving the reports I and my men have gathered later in eve, however I have found that the hinterlands are disappearing fast and our frontiers are growing tight and populated. I believed it to be best to tell you before the meeting so that you can make a well thought out plan on our expansion."

The Southern Hinterlands of Storrmmark
Four Days Later
In accordance with the Fylkir's new proclamation to settle the southern coasts further south and force those who resist to kneel, around 3,000 settlers from cities and villages throughout the kingdom and 1,000 trained soldiers set sail on a fleet of wide and deep hulled longboats, built for cargo and transports to travel along the coasts to the lands just south of the borders of Stormmark in order to expand the coastline and fertile ground, as well as bring new space for Stormmen to live in.

It was early, yet the Emperor, was already awake, and been sitting outside his Castle, watching the blooming trees blow in the wind. Since he inherited control of the throne from his father, many years back, he had ben able to keep it at peace. He had been officially Emperorfor roughly fourty years, however in that time, not only did he keep his nation out of war, but completely overhauled his domain. He did his best to keep his land more self reliant, by transforming what plains and other flat land that was available into a major agricultural hub. So much so, that trade for the commodity had become almost none existent.

The Emperor continued to look on. His people of the city of Whiteshire below, now beginning to wake, and move about. His land was at peace, and his walls stood strong, but how long would it last? How long would it be till invaders begin to march on towards their Castles, and begin to ravage the farmland? Or, how long would it be till someone within... oh, a general, or even one of his kin raises up up against him? Was the peaceful nature of the Royal Clan, all a ruse?

A few retainers approach him, appearing from the door behind him. They summon him, explaining that there is business to take care of. He stands, and follows them inside. More decisions had to be made, to keep his nation from falling from under him.

Akrópoli, Patrída


In the glorious capital of Akrópoli, inland from the large docks where naval ships were clearly seen from miles away, the sun was gleaming. In the throne room King Michaíl & Queen Narkísa sat side by side amongst their gold adorned thrones, both cloaked in deep red colors. The Steward brought a letter announcing to their majesties,

"My lady and lordship, a letter penned from the High King Tomis Regis to the East, and it reads. It follows..." he said as he continued to read the letter.

"Very good then..." said the Michaíl in a hushed tone.

"What say you?" he asked with a merry tone, his voice boisterous enough to fill the halls

"Hm, I shall pen the response. An alliance will be necessary dear as you know," responded Queen Narkísa her voice soft in response

"Then tell the high king, we accept his gift, and propose a festive meeting of our people. Ha Ha!" the king laughed raising his hand as the Steward began to prepare the new letter.

To the High King to the East, Tomis Regis,
It has come to our attention that an alliance is in the best interests of our peoples. In lieu of direct threat we of Patrída encourage a partnership of three points.
Point One: The union shall encourage a fair trade between our kingdoms
Point Two: Military protection and intervention in each other's foreign entanglements but propose peace where available
Point Three: Division of the Island to our Southeast shores between our peoples as a meeting grounds that is neutral to both, divided equally, and ruled on each respective side to our according rules of law.

With this our alliance shall be a success, should you accept.

Makriá boreí na sas vasilévei! [Long may you reign!]

The halls of the stone estate were cold, drafty, and dark. The ancient halls were draped in the red and yellow banners of Noble House Hadgril, in an attempts to liven them up. Heavy and fast boot falls echoed down the halls, with a lighter set of foot steps following right behind. David Hadgril, son of house head Karotz Hadgril, was marching down his ancient family home while lecturing his son, Maxon Hadgril.

" Make no mistake, every single man in that room who does not have your last name is your enemy will not hesitate to kill you." David was about 6 feet tall, and wore a fiery red tunic, with his family sigil ( a kraken) made out of a yellow golden like fabric. His red hair flowed behind him, and his long beard was braided into four perfect braids. Maxon, with the exception of being blond, slightly shorter, and only a stubble for facial hair, was the spitting image of his father. " That is not to say however, that they cannot be allies as well. You see, power in court politics is seldom one with the efforts of only one family. In your life time, and by life time, I mean in the next three days ( the date of his marriage), if you wish to succeed you must make the right connections with the right people. That is why Father Karotz, your mother, and i have decided to marry you off to the Dalic girl."

Maxon continued following behind his quick paced father. " If I may ask father, what connections have you made?" David looked back behind at his son. " The newest addition would be the Dalic's." It took Maxon a moment to comprehend what he had just been told. David stopped and looked at his son, as the information had finally dawned on his son David smiled. " Yes son, I have used to as a political tool. Just as Father Karotz had used me, and his father before him. You must realize my son, family is everything, it is all that you have. Sometimes, you must make sacrifices for it. Not to say that your mother and I are not happy but -"

" Your lordship?"

The two Hadgril's turned towards an indentured manservant whom had stalked up behind them. " What is it?"

"You told me to inform you an hour and a half before court. It is time your lordship." David straightend his back and looked towards his son. " Well then, prepare-"

" Your carriage has already waiting your lordship. It is just outside." David looked the man servant up and down. Indentured servants were quite common across Yahghil, across all walks of life. When you could not pay for something, or owed a favor, people would often offer themselves as servants for a time. There was also a dire desire to remove any debts that one may have in this lifetime, because to owe a debt and to die before repaying it would bring an unhappy after life in the White World.

David smiled, " You are a good servant Marcrus. I will see you soon Maxon, I must go and meet with the court.




The High King's hall Was shaped much long a half cylinder on it's side, with the circular roof reaching 18 feet above the stone floor. It was a long hall, but due to numerous brazens, it was not dark. Two benches had been set up across the hall facing each other, while a high stone throne, encrusted with gold in many areas was at the very back of the room, being able to see all before it. Currently, that throne was being occupied by a white haired pale old man; High King Yver. The 20 feudal lords, the heads ( or representatives there of) of their houses, were sitting along the benches. High King Yver was now 70 years old, and what red hair he may once have had could be barely seen in his tangle of white beard. Yver was a member of ancient house Avakarii, and had ruled for more that 40 years. Now, however, at 70, his years were coming to an end, and everybody in the room was anxious about it.

With the death of a High King, came the election of a new High King. Each family head would offer up a member from their own house ( whom is not them) to serve as their candidate for High King.The 20 elector nobles would then cast their votes for whom they wish to be the next High King, bar that they cannot vote for their own candidate. This single rule, has been the cause of more back room stabbings and shady dealings in court politics in the last 400 years than any other issue. It would cause some families to plan years in advance for how they are going to get one of their own on the throne.

David hardly listened to the ramblings of a steward whom had taken the floor and whom was reading daily reports. He was staring over at the head of Nobel House Dalic. David nodded towards him, and Dalic nodded back. Now, although everyone was looking to get their own on the throne, alliances were often made in order to back up other loyal candidates in friendly houses in case your's were to lose. House Hadgril had made friends with 6 other houses, an impressive feat... were it not that Ancient House Avakarii had also made 6 other alliances. The Avakarii were just as ready to defend their throne as the rest of the court is to take it.

" Tell the scouts... ah... that they should build the watch tower as planned. This is... ah... all in favor of the council?"

The nobles remained silent, a sign of agreement. " Then the, ah, motion...."

David watched the old man, as if though his stares could get him to die faster. Any day, now....

Redfort Keep, the residence and seat of power of House Marthart in the City of Avendor. The Capital city of the Duchy of Nombathia.
Archduke Richard Marthart was sitting on his throne, a large ornate wooden chair with Marthart Boars carved into it. The medium-sized throne room was completely deserted, save for the Archduke himself and one Prophet of Death. Even the Honour Guard had been ordered to patrol the halls. The Archduke just sat in his chair for a few moments, seemingly pondering something, constantly shifting in his seat.
After a short period, the Prophet finally spoke up, shifting in his armour.
"My Lord, your state is getting worse, and we both know it. You are not even hiding your negativity from me anymore. You must send Godrick out to further your line, or I fear the Marthart's will die out. We can not allow that to happ-" The Prophet was cut off as the Archduke raised his arm, shifting in his throne. "One would almost think you thought you could read the future, rather than emotions. I rule in Nombathia, I do not wish to send Godrick to risk his life hunting about for damsels in distress while I suffer from my current predicament. If I were to die while Godrick was away, what would there be to stop Marcus from seizing power for himself during the regency? Upon Godrick's return there would be fighting in the streets. One fire in a farm would form a spiral of death, spreading to the farmhouse, then the local village, then the forests, swiftly engulfing us all in a fresh level of Death. As the Archduke of this dominion, it is my responsibility to try to avoid having that sort of scenario happening when this plague finally takes me."
The Archduke sighed, running a hand through his hair. Though the Archduke was only in his early thirties, his hair was already going gray.
The Prophet thought for a moment, finally speaking up.
"My Lord, my Order has guarded your house and the interests of your heirs for thousands of years now. What if half of us took a small retinue of about fifty men to protect Godrick on his travels, and the rest of our order watched Marcus at all times, making it very clear that your throne shall rightfully go to Godrick? This would keep both your sons alive, allow Godrick to keep your blood going, and prevent Marcus from usurping the Archduchy if you were to die while Godrick was gone."
The Archduke nodded, stroking his braided beard. "Fine, fine. I suppose that we were going to have to start finding Noble houses to marry into outside our own borders anyway. Send Godrick to me, I will have a talk with him on what lies ahead, and what he should be prepared to face on his return."
The Prophet of Death bowed, sprinting from the throne room, carefully closing the doors behind him.

---

A few moments later, a younger man who looked to be about seventeen walked in. He wore a black tunic with a white Boar on the front. Under this, he wore full chainmail, with leather gloves. The young man stood at six foot nine inches tall, plus an additional inch added by his leather boots, and weighed in at three hundred fifty six pounds. The young man was muscular and clean-shaven, with long red hair. The young man bowed to the Archduke, before rising a moment later.
"Father, Prophet Rollo told me that you wished to speak about some important matters concerning the fate of our household?"
Archduke Richard nodded at his son, gesturing for the young man to stand at ease. "Godrick, I may not be as old as I would have liked, but I most likely wont live to see the next winter. If I die, that will just leave those few of our house who currently reside in this very fortress. That means you, your brother, your sister, your cousin, and your uncle. Your uncle is an old man, which just leaves me with three young men old enough to inherit. Your cousin Jared has no desire to hold my titles, and you are my favourite son. I want the line to grow stronger with you. Son, I need you to go out and make House Marthart known to our neighbours. Go out and make friends in high places, wed a noblewoman, and return back to Avendor. Our house has greatly suffered from this damn plague, and I will rot in the next three afterlives before I let this entire family pass over."
It took a few moments for all this to register with Godrick. After a moment, the young man opened his mouth to respond. "Father, I understand what you are saying, but why? For all your life you have pressed for isolationism, you yourself have always said that with new neighbours come new enemies, which leads to more wars, which results in more dead Martharts. Why start reaching out now?"
The Archduke took the family sword, resting it across his lap. "Godrick, you are going to need to be able to tell a good story of bravery and triumph. Because even with the Prophets watching him, I highly doubt that Marcus will simply let you have this household once my body goes cold. You will need allies, and you will need to be able to produce an heir. If you can do that, Marcus's followers will waver. They will ponder if it truly is worth it to risk it all on a civil war. Take the Marthart Blade, and take it to any who would move to stand in the way of the very survival of this household. I have a small retinue waiting for you outside the front gates." The Archduke then handed the massive Zweihänder to Godrick, waiting proudly as the young man strapped the greatsword to his person.
Godrick nodded, standing at attention, barely keeping his face neutral.
"Allright father, I will prepare myself at once. I promise, I wont let you down. When I return, I shall return with thrice the renown, and thrice the honour, father." Archduke Richard beamed at his son, resting a hand on the young man's shoulder.
"I know you wont, son."

The party continued to ascend the path towards Rathis Castle. They slowly made progress, walking two across in most places as the path wouldn't allow for much more. As they approached the final gate before the castle, Robbert began to notice something strange... There were more guards than usual... And not just because their were foreigners here, but the gate had three times the normal amount of guards...

As the party finally reached the gate, it slowly opened, allowing entrance into the old castle. The Rathis Sigil adorned each wall with fires illuminating the halls. Guards were bustling around, obviously preparing for a feast of some sort. They were greeted by several stewards who offered to show the High King and his party to where they would be staying, an offer they quickly accepted. Robbert spoke (thru translator), "We will call for you when the feast is prepared". He smiled, and entered the Throne Room where his father was waiting.

As Robbert neared the throne, the Emperor spoke, "Welcome home Robbert, I trust the journey was uneventful?"

Robbert smiled and chuckled, "Of course, your Grace. The roads are well policed. However, what is happening with the increased guard presence? Are we expecting trouble?"

The Emperor turned from Robb and looked up at the ceiling, "These barbarians are below us Robb. We cannot expect them to be honorable and noble such as us. They are subhuman and we are the Six's chosen people..."

"I understand your Grace..."

Coasts of Nyrmund, 5 days after setting sail, Colonial Storrmmarkers
Hellkir the Calm

Hellkir the Calm, a medium height man with braided brown hair and a slighter build than the average Storrmmarker due to him being sickly as a youth. However that mattered little to the Fylkir who named him Kappi and leader of the expedition and the 3,000 settlers that came with. After several days at sea, they had arrived at the shores of their charted destination. The land which they nicknamed 'new hand' was not far from the actual kingdom and thus, supplies from the homeland would be easy to gain.

As the first longboats ran up on the rocky shores, the soldiers exited first and began establishing a perimeter to ensure no tribes would get too curious. In the next hours colonists unloaded from the ships and began unloading their supplies and establishing a generic temporary city of tents before getting to work on clearing the territory building homes, fields, and fortifications. While at the same time the soldiers began scouting out more territory and potential clearings for more settlements.

It would take many days, Hellkir thought before any actual established homes could be built.

Aegeti Castle, Crown Prince Ragnshil 'Raven Eyes'


Ragnshil, was the Fylkir's second born son, the one who proved himself most capable of leading the nation after his father and was selected as heir after a tournament which put all of the Fylkir's children daring enough to become heir into a series of trials that tested every aspect of them to collapse.

Ragnshil proved victorious and while his elder and younger brother hold no animosity to him for it, it has been a time honored tradition for the Tournament of Succession, Ragnshil still feels uncertain that he was to win.

The prince walked with his newly wed wife, Katia Djaeldottir, daughter of the Jarl Jorkimir Fire Helm. Speaking quietly of the affairs of the realm.

"Brother Adrel has returned from his census journey, I suspect that since all three sons of the Fylkir are home, father will organize the Royal raiders. I hate to have to leave you so soon Katia." Ragnshil said remorsefully.

"I will miss your warmth, my husband, but fear not, I believe that when you return, you'll find a small child at my chest to greet you as well. I know it has not been long, but Mennskr has blessed our marriage and the elixir Volva Matil crafted for our first night...I feel confident that you will return to me and a child will be here to greet you." His wife replied

That reassured Ragnshil, and a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth as they continued down the hallways.