Glory of the North - Chapter 1: Resurgence and Persecution

[Rovanpera]

(Modern Tech; Religious Themes; IC; Competence with the English Language Required)

It had been a long, harsh, bloody year for the Nordic peoples of Rovanperä. Even before, troubles had been brewing in the nation; on matters both Political and Religious. From the most isolated reaches of the country's northernmost holdings; ancient rituals, preserved in both poems and in writing; made their way down south to the greater populace whom had begun to lose faith in religion. While the existence of the Old Gods certainly was questionable in the eyes of some; the surviving elements of their people's heritage provided more than enough intrigue to attract the attention of a significant portion of people; much to the dismay of christians worldwide.

By the time the old King, Hosvir Agdason, of our former Monarchy, (bound by Constitution), passed the movement had grown in size and popularity; spreading to neighboring countries as the son of our former King, Rennir Agdason took power. It was no secret Rennir was influenced heavily by Christians; a devout follower of their church and the ideals of a single god. The policy of religious tolerance his King Hosvir had advocated so strongly before was all but shattered under this new regime; King Rennir and Parliament alike working to ban our so-called "Pagan nonsense" from all public places initially; then throughout the whole of our country. Needless to say; the people didn't take too well to this. Rioting broke out in the streets; our people were furious with the oppression we'd endured under the brief reign of King Rennir, who now used brute force as Christian manipulation would no longer work on our peoples as it had in days passed. We were angry, we were armed; now all we needed was a leader.

Thorvardr Torfason; a charismatic young man from the North-western borders of our Kingdom, descended into the South; rallying our people under the claims he was descended from the last "Pagan" King of the nation. Whether or not such claims were true are up to debate; as neither the time nor resources were or have been available to scientifically prove such. Nevertheless; Thorvardr proved himself a stunning leader; quick to learn what needed to be learned and careful when choosing others to whom he'd delegate authority, in light of the fact he was just one man and couldn't be everywhere at once. Soon, our peoples were united under one banner; as we stormed the capital. Our country's armed forces had hardly seen war in centuries; the cowards breaking under the righteous ferocity of our assault. King Rennir himself fled the palace, as only a true coward would; fleeing to the safety of a country on the mainland, away from Nordic Lands; laying claim to our throne as the "rightful King".

As for Thorvardr; we made him King, of course. The people demanded it; his leadership and upstanding nature towards his friends, comrades, and supporters (and contrasting pitilessness against his enemies) appealing most to the Karls; our newly-restored "Middle Class" from the old days. While not officially abolished; our parliament has never been restored; the Constitution binding our King destroyed during the course of the conflict. Thus far, his majesty has proven he needs no checks to rule competently; his choice of Jarls to govern his lands and the people living on such based on merit; on the bravery and loyalty of the man, or woman, in question; as in the old days.

What becomes of our country now? Now that the chaos has ended, and the King has consolidated his powers; we set our sights on our neighbors; on our cultural and spiritual brethren under assault by the tyranny of feeble rulership and accursed Christians. We march now, to unite the peoples of the north under the banner of one; to wipe the hypocritical scourge of Christianity from the face of our Kingdom; and, perhaps, one day; from the face of Midgard itself!

---

Akrar; ancient fortress-city on the border of the Kingdom of Afryines

King Thorvardr stood atop the castle walls; the ancient fortress an eternal memorial to the bloody rivalry which has existed between the Western and Eastern Nordic peoples in bygone eras. Of course; such meant little in this day an age; a blessing to be sure, as it would be far easier to unite indifferent peoples than those misguided by a sense of bitter resentment and conflict. It was here the army had been preparing; from here they would march on the Afryines' capital and strike a swift, decisive blow. Their armies were weak, cowardly; not unlike the former Rovanperan army serving under the pretender, Rennir. Their men now were no strangers to violence; the smoldering ruin of every church and hanging corpse of every Christian in Akrar a testament to this. Not unlike others towns which had suffered the same fate; churches burned, pastors and preachers hung from the trees; along with their foolish followers, or the ones who tried to resist anyway... Thorvardr wanted no part of it; the blood of the innocent would not stain his hands if he could help it. Though, being one man; there was little he could do to curb the continual violence.

A messenger approached him; bowing respectfully and begging his attention. The King turned, leaving his thoughts on the matter behind to grant this man audience.

"Messages from other nations, Sir: It would seem we've invoked the attention of the Mainland." The messenger said, offering the telegrams to Thorvardr.

The young King, Twenty Seven years of age, accepted these dispatches; dismissing the messenger afterwards. A cool, early-spring breeze blew by; adding to the relative peace of the moment. He sighed; saddened by the fact it wouldn't last forever, though how dull would the world be were it to do so? He enjoyed it for what it was for a moment longer; sitting down and opening the first of the dispatches to review what the "civilized" countries of the South had to say about these affairs they had little business involving themselves in.

[Cedoria]

Poras, Capital of the People's Republic of Cedoria

Communist Party Chairman Vallance Vallen sat in his favourite swivel chair, reading the reports and dispatches from the People's Intelligence Agency. Through the minutia of useless information, and occasional interesting snippets that he filed away for future use by his eidetic memory, there was one particularly interesting report that caught his eye. The situation in Rovanpera, a land far off to the north, was an interesting one. It appeared to be primarily a religiously motivated conflict, where a Pagan leader had just seized supreme power from the old Christian King, and was ruling as an absolute leader. Chairman Vallance Vallen was not massively interested in news of a religious conflict, after all, they occurred all the time. One of the reasons for the People's Republic of Cedoria's policy of mandatory "state atheism" was to stop silly conflicts like this, occurring on the basis of what some invisible figure in the sky did or did not want. Since the Great December Revolution, which had toppled the Monarchy and brought the Communist Party to power, the revolution had remained uncorrupted by religious influences, citing Karl Marx's dictum "Religion is the opium of the masses" Vallance had been keen to continue the policies laid down by his predecessors in enforcing mandatory atheism, and the suppression of religious movements.
Although Christianity had been a force under the monarchy, numerous violent purges and political persecutions had forced it away from the country. Any Christians were now dead or in hiding, and did not dare to show themselves openly. Pagans had been in a minority even before the Revolution, and those who had openly practiced quickly learned to leave the country, or face execution for "counter-revolutionary activities."

However, this new King was a dangerous threat, although he had only declared his hostility to Christianity, he could represent a danger to others as well, every religiously motivated ruler could be, and it was Vallance's duty to ensure that this new King could not pose any threat the People's Republic of Cedoria, in any way, to interrupt the peace and prosperity that they had enjoyed under his guidance.

Very interesting he mused to himself, he made a mental note in his eidetic memory to write a letter to this King Thorvadr....

From: The People's Republic of Cedoria's paramount leader Chairman Vallance Vallen
To: King Thorvadr, new lord of Rovanpera
Your Majesty
Greetings from the People's Republic of Cedoria, rest assured that we have been monitoring events in your country for some time, and your seizure of power has not escaped the notice of our intelligence operatives. Although we traditionally take very little interest in the religious wars of other nations, let me frankly say that your rise to power has been greeted with... concern by some quarters within the Communist Party of Cedoria. Although you have not openly stated any hostility to Cedoria, some officials fear that our policy of mandated state atheism could make us enemies of you in the near future. In order to assuage their concerns, and to enable us to become better acquainted with each other, I would like to arrange a private meeting between us and our chief advisors.
Obviously, this would not be an official state visit, given the recriminations I would suffer at home for inviting a Pagan ruler to Cedoria, however, I would suggest a private meeting aboard the People's Navy aircraft carrier Liberator would be an appropriate course of action to take. We would be stationed in the North Sea on international waters, were actions of hostility are forbidden under international law, and have our discussions there. If you are agreeable, I should like for this meeting to be arranged as soon as possible, and I look forward to being given the chance to acquaint myself with you.

Yours sincerely
Vallance Vallen, General Secretary of the Communist Party of Cedoria, Chairman of the Central Committee, Chairman of the Committee for the defence of revolution, Paramount Comrade Leader of the People's Republic of Cedoria.

[Rovanpera]

Akrarborg, Rovanpera

The first message of those King Thorvardr received had been the only one he'd bothered with thus far; on account of the interesting proposition contained within. He sat on the balcony overlooking Akrar proper for some time, contemplating the proposition presented to him by the Cedorian Chairman. It warranted a reply, of course; though one thing troubled him and that was the idea of meeting with this man, Sir Vallen, on international waters. Before, Rovanpera wasn't exactly known for its naval superiority their ancestors could easily boast... Now, in the wake of their recent revolt and the resurgence of their traditional faith and government; it would be a lie to say they could easily compensate for the strength they lacked before; nor would it be possible to do so this early in the game. He contemplated his options for a moment longer; the sound of approaching footsteps demanding his attention.

The Jarls Thrand, Borgar, and Jensina stepped out onto the balcony, each bowing respectfully to their King and brother-in-arms whom they'd known throughout the duration of the year-long conflict prior to now.

"My lord; the Smiths say enough equipment to properly arm and outfit our warriors for the campaign should be ready within the week." Jarl Borgar reported, stepping. The aging veteran served among the two former Kings' Royal Guard; avowedly atheist, even into the days of Rennir, which eventually lead to his dismissal by the Christian King. It was his inside knowledge and connections within the palace and capital of Njarovik which allowed the revolutionaries under the command of Thorvardr to tear through the city's defenses and bring the former Government's forces to its knees.

"The men are ready and eager; many have kin on the border towns whom they wish to re-unite with." Jarl Jensina, Thorvardr's appointed marshall and the first Rovanperan woman to hold such a great title of prestige in centuries, stated; eying the message which sat on the small table next to her King and sworn liege, though otherwise allowing the last among them to make his report.

"Christians and Christian supporters across the realm have either fled the country or gone into hiding, my Lord. Those whom haven't already fallen victim to the violence that is... Still; it all seems to be resolving itself quickly enough. I must express my fears, however, that those whom have gone into hiding may be provoked to resist should a foreign power so decide to support them." Jarl Thrand, a close childhood friend of the King and lord of the largest fief bestowed upon the Jarls in the wake of their new regime's seizure of power.

"Funny you should mention that." Thorvardr said, taking hold of the Cedorian telegram and presenting it to each. "It would seem, ladies and gentlemen; we have attracted the attention of other powers within this world. The man invites me to a meeting aboard his ship; claiming he cannot invite me to his lands... Your thoughts?"

There was a moment of silence as each Jarl read the Telegram presented to them by their King; each contemplating it momentarily before passing judgement.

"Sir; even the ship of a potential enemy could be as dangerous as a meeting held on enemy ground." Jarl Jensina said, making her stance on the matter clear. "I would advise against it."

"Ah, but; the enemy of my enemy is my friend." Jarl Borgar objected. "Perhaps an alliance of circumstance would be beneficial; in the event the pretender Rennir manages to rally the Christian nations around his cause, then I would dare call it necessary."

"Both make good points..." Jarl Thrand stated once Borgar had finished. "However; he states he cannot meet you on his territory, sir... Why not invite him to ours? Hold a grand feast at the port-city of Gilsa; first impressions are everything, after all. Last years harvest was prosperous; our people demand a celebration the likes of which to properly commemorate our great victory here. We must display unto this world our prosperity, our desire to have and willingness to accept the changes our land has gone through this past year. At the end of it all; you might very well make a friend, not just as a matter of circumstance; as a trustworthy and loyal ally. Who knows; with any luck, you might sway the mind of a man in power."

"I object!" Jarl Jensina retorted at the end of his speech. "They're Marxists; do you honestly think they can be reasoned with?!"

"Even so; do we not have the right to try? An unsteady alliance is, after all, still an alliance; one we may keep until such a time as our countries mutually agree it is time to end such; and by that time we will be ready, to meet their strength and match it; man for man." Borgar argued.

Thorvardr held his hand up; bringing the bickering of his vassals to an end. "Thrand is right... You all make fair arguments. Carry on with the preparations; I know now what manner of response I mean to send unto this... 'enemy of our enemy'."

Each of the Jarls bowed respectfully as they were dismissed; Jensina and Borgar leaving whilst Thrand lingered for a moment more. "If I may add, your majesty; you might wish to make clear unto him the difference between the Old Ways and modern religion. Else we seem like yet another band of self-righteous crusaders demanding the Gods justify our shedding of blood. Let him know; we ask not that the gods justify our acts... But that we ask only for their favor; towards our land and people as much as on the field of battle." With that; Thrand left the king alone; Thorvardr requesting a present Huskarl fetch him a pen and parchment upon which to send his reply.

Chairman Vallance Vallen;

Greeting unto thee from the Kingdom of Rovanpera. Whilst it comes as no surprise foreign eyes would come upon the affairs of our nation; I pray Odin's wisdom be bestowed upon you, that you not mistake our intent for hostility against you and yours. Some in my court call those who adhere to the ideals of Marxism a threat to any and all Monarchy... Whilst a weak King may fear you and those ideal you follow; I am anything but. You speak of a meeting, though would not hold it upon thy own lands for political reasons; such I can understand. I have been advised against a meeting upon a vessel until such a time as trust might be established, and herein lies my proposal.

I mean to hold a feast; to commemorate the victory my peoples and I have enjoyed and hope to enjoy for many years. I would invite you and as many retainers as you see fit to bring, good sir; to the port-city of Gilsa, wherein I shall be holding this feast from the halls of the ancient Palace to the streets of the city itself. I find it much more poetic one should extend kindness to their idealogical rivals, in the hopes we might set our differences aside for the common good of both our peoples. You shall not offend me with refusal, nor shall I allow any harm to befall thee whilst in our lands under my invitation and personal protection. With nothing else to offer you than my word as a man of honour, I leave the decision up to you, Sir Vallen

Yours truly;

Thorvardr Torfason, King of Rovanpera

[Rovanpera]

Port City of Gilsa

Always fascinating to look at the great cities of this world and consider that, at one point, they were all a humble village of some sort. Gilsa was no exception; from its existence as a fishing village in the time before Nordic Peoples learned writing to the great fortress-city of many a Rovanperan King. Now it stood as their gateway to the South, among the largest of trading ports in the region; formerly, anyway. The year's trials and tribulations had proven very bad for business; Imports and Exports alike brought to a screeching halt in those final days of violence and disorder. Progress in re-facilitating trade was slow-moving, with the impending war, the amount of manpower to dig the country's precious mineral supply out of the frozen mountains up North was lacking; at least in sufficient amount to meet the demands of companies overseas.

His Majesty had yet to adopt an economic policy for the country; however the Jarls and their support for Mercantilism concerned those who found themselves profiting from the sell of exports. So far it was only rumor and speculation; no matter worth taking action upon. Besides; the entirety of the city found itself preparing for the feast King Thorvardr had finally decided to honour them with. Jarl Askold, the lord of the city, rode through the streets; overseeing and assisting in the preparations wherever he was needed. His path had brought him from the Palace, currently being re-furnished to serve as a home rather than a museum, to the Gardens and past the burnt down remnants of the city's Christian church. Christians weren't the only ones being persecuted, it seemed; Muslims, whom were cut from the same cloth as the aforementioned, fell victim to violence as well. The looted husk of a Mosque, with bodies hanging off the minarets. Jews were spared the anger of the crowd, for the time being; if only because the religion and its followers had kept their noses clean and had not been the cause of any grief, in times both recent and historical; unlike their children-religions, whom were now being cleansed from Rovanperan soil through fire and steel.

It saddened Askold, seeing it come to this... Violence begets violence, after all. A silent prayer was offered to the god Balder; that their people might one day reconcile and co-exist as they had in days past. Some would argue such "weakness" among their predecessor is what led their people astray and into decay to begin with... There was more to it than that, he himself would argue; though for his title of prestige bestowed upon him by their gracious King; he had no ability to control the actions of the Karls. They were free men and women; they'd do as they pleased, all he could do was hope his wishes for harmonious living were respected and, one day, brought to fruition. He passed by the Mosque; feeling sorrow for the people, not the faith, as he knew some would; proceeding along to the palace to finish the preparations for His Majesty's arrival. He'd send Huskarls to take the bodies down when he arrived, he concluded; everyone else going on about their business, most unhindered by any shadow of grief or remorse for the death of the Monotheists butchered senselessly. To Askold, they were all people in the end... Alas; even he was just a man, incapable of manipulating the actions of his fellow men, much as he may desire, or one would assume, he could. There was nothing for it now; what was done was done, what was won was won. For now; he pushed it to the back of that good-natured mind of his, determined to enjoy the festivities first and grieve for the fallen later.

[Concrete Judgement]

The Bohemian Kingdom of Concrete Judgment
Agrastopol - "City of the Eternal"

On his obsidian throne the Cisar-Marshall sat, impervious to the mass slaughter that had just commenced only a mile from the palace. The cries of people could be heard over the loud noises of gunfire. The Kingdom had carried on a large genocide of those who chose not to follow the state religion. Okatar; the Cisar-Marshall of the Kingdom waved his hand to one of the many soldiers that stood guard around his throne. " Tell the State Administrators that if they insist on carrying out this Inquisition that they kill efficiently and quietly." The guard bowed low and nodded before rushing off to do what he was commanded. Okatar leaned back in into his throne and breathed deeply and slowly. He was recovering from a surgery that removed shrapnel that had been embedded in his body since he was six years old. He wheezed and coughed to get the mucus out of his throat. He hated feeling so weak and vulnerable.

The entrance to the large throne hall opened as a group of men and women moved forward in unison towards the Cisar-Marshall. Depictions of his conquests and triumphs were engraved on the walls around the throne room. When you first walk in it starts with his birth, moves on to his adolescence and so on. This throne hall was imagery of the Cisar-Marshall's entire life. Large black banners hung from the walls that had the insignia of the Cisar-Marshall shown proudly on them. As the group moved closer to the Cisar-Marshall, the soldiers around the despot tensed and moved their hands toward their guns. Some got a head count in anticipation for the worst, credible assassination attempts were common the Bohemian Kingdom of Concrete Judgment.

The leader of the group stopped and bowed, along with him the rest of the group followed. Finally, the soldiers guarding the Cisar-Marshall relaxed and returned to their positions. A second group entered the throne hall and too took their place behind the first group and bowed, a third group entered and bowed before the Cisar-Marshall. Six more groups entered and bowed before the Cisar-Marshall. In all, nine groups were in the throne hall, all groups bow in reverence. It was a meeting of the Marshalls. The leader of the first group spoke," Your Most August Majesty, the Marshalls wish to convene a council to update Your Majesty on a situation of extreme importance to us and the Kingdom."

The Cisar-Marshall looked on the group of Field Marshalls from the Bohemian Defense Forces with contempt as he considered their request," I will allow this council to convene in my presence." With the Cisar-Marshall at the helm, the council commenced and he was informed of a troubling situation in the nation of Rovanpera. A foreign missive was issued immediately by the Cisar-Marshall upon hearing the news.

The Bohemian Kingdom
"Absolute Domination is the only cause for rejoice

Addressed to the Government of Rovanpera,

The Council of Marshalls convened on this day in the year of our lord, the Cisar-Marshall presided over this council and authorizes this current missive that wishes to notify the Kingdom of Rovanpera that it's rebel government will not be recognized. The Bohemian Kingdom of Concrete Judgment calls for the legitimate government to re-established in Rovanpera, or there will be consequences.

[Rovanpera]

Akrar, Jarl Thrand's hall

King Thorvardr busied himself making preparations upon writing his response to Cedoria; making use of Jarl Thrand's hall as his "home away from home", as it were; grateful for the generosity of his dear friend. This had distracted him from the matter of the other telegrams; a matter which he now got around to addressing as the sun dipped over the horizon. The next one he'd taken from the handful given to him seemed to hail from Bohemia; much to his amusement as he opened the envelope, removing the message contained within and taking a seat on one of the empty chairs while reading. The hall wouldn't be empty for long; several Jarls and their retinue's being present within the city; activity was bound to pick up eventually, especially if...

The doors to the hall swung wide open; a young woman adorned in fox-fur trimmed regalia advanced towards the King, her arms outstretched while her Huskarls followed behind her, filing into the hall wherein they'd be enjoying supper. "Cousin!" The woman exclaimed; embracing Thorvardr with an affectionate hug before seating herself next to him. "How goes, if I may ask?" She said; as bright and cheerful as always, it seemed; even in these dark, troublesome times they lived in.

Thorvardr humored her; returning the hug and looking to the Telegrams, which he gathered up and handed off to someone for them to set elsewhere. "Dealing with the petty squabbled of my people and the incessant war-dogs that are foreign nations, among a host of other things." The young King replied; sounding a bit weary after the long day he'd had.

"So running a Kingdom in general, then?" Jarl Svana replied, finding herself rather clever. "And what have you there? An idle threat? A declaration of war? Maybe a commendation?" She inquired while motioning to the Telegram in his hands, she herself realizing how ridiculous it was to think of that last option.

"Ha! If only." Thorvardr replied, skimming the contents. "No... I believe your first assumption was correct." He said, presenting the Bohemian communication to her.

"Hmm..." She began, taking a moment to read over it. "Short, sweet, to the point... Not the most intimidating, I'll concede; but then, why should we be?" She asked, handing it back to her cousin with a smile, which gave way to a more even expression. "How do you mean to reply?"

Thorvardr considered this for a moment; the hall becoming crowded as the others and their Huskarls returned from the business they were attending in the city. He needed some peace and solitude for a moment; "I must beg my leave, Svana. I won't be long, I assure you." He said, standing and heading to the private rooms to write a response to the Bohemian threat in peace.

To whom it may concern within the Kingdom of Bohemia;

Your audacity is duly noted, as is your disrespect and sense of self-importance. Nevertheless; I am not a man to hold a grudge, especially over something as petty as words. Perhaps your vendetta with us could be reconciled; I certainly hope so, as the path of war is not one to be tread lightly. On that note; I wish to invite the man you call your Lord and Sovereign King to a feast I am to be holding soon at my hall in Gilsa. We may speak more on the matter there, if your lord so desires; and if not then so be it.

Sincerely,

Thorvardr Torfason, King of Rovanpera

[Yngen]

FROM: The Imperial Senate
TO: King Thorvardr

The Imperial Senate would like to congratulate you on the removal of a despotic and cruel tyrant, and the reunification of your people under their traditional values. We are somewhat concerned about the rumours of religious persecution in your nation, but understand that times of conflict always result in extremes and believe that this period of violence will not be representative of your reign as a whole. We would like to send an ambassador to your kingdom, to offer counsel and a hand of friendship in these trying times.

signed on behalf of the Emperor by High Lord Guilliame Leclerc of the Imperial Senate

[Concrete Judgement]

The Bohemian Kingdom of Concrete Judgment
Agrastopol - "City of the Eternal"

In the throne hall all was quiet as the Cisar-Marshall sat on his obsidian throne as the change-of-the guard had just occurred. The guards around the Obsidian Throne took their places. Four men rushed into the throne hall unannounced. Before they were past the point of no return, the four messengers stopped and bowed low. The guards relaxed their posture. One of the four spoke," Your Most August Majesty, the Rovanperans have extended an invitation for you to join them in a feast at the port city of Gilsa."

The Cisar-Marshall leaned back in his chair as he took the news in, he had not been outside of the Kingdom since the military campaign's that were nearly twenty decades ago. He usually sent State Administrators on foreign visits, but this ruler had invited him personally. The Cisar-Marshall responded to the messenger," Ready the ships, we will set sail at midnight."

"Your Majesty," another messenger speaking this time," The Marshalls wish to inform you that the Inquisition in Dreise and Hamlenburg has commenced. They expect a full cleansing by the time you arrive back from Rovanpera." The Cisar-Marshall nodded before waving the rest of the messengers away, telling them to report to their respective State Administrators.

The Cisar-Marshall stood from the throne. As he walked down the steps leading from the platform where his throne sat, the group of guards on duty formed a formation around. Two on either side, and two in the back. The Cisar-Marshall casually strolled out of the throne hall and into the large corridor that held it's entrance. A massive blob of government officials and agents immediately stopped what they were doing and bowed in reverence of their Cisar.

The Cisar-Marshall and his entourage continued unhindered down the corridor and to the docks.

[OoC: You don't mind if I fast forward this oh I don't know.. 24 hours?]

One mile out of Gilsa

The four ships moved silently as its figures knifed cleanly through the waters of the oceans that separated them from Gilsa. The Cisar-Marshall awoke to find that it was nearing morning. As he walked onto the deck, he could clearly see the port city in the distance. The Cisar-Marshall could not help but feel a little excited at the prospect of finally getting to meet new people in a foreign land. But just as the feeling came, he quelled it. The Cisar-Marshall was determined to not reveal any weakness. They were nearing the docks.