In the Name of the King (Medieval, IC)

[Albertae]

Abram looked at Lord Leithianor confused.

"Her Highness has agreed to the proposal Lord Leithianor. Are you saying that her decision is shameful? That she mocks the navy? That what she is doing is petty? And if I may correct Lord Leithianor, we do know Count Alden. He's been a loyal vassal to House Errond and has always been there to extend credit when the Crown requires it. I find it strange that you would call House Calvely profiteers when it is you demanding collateral of the Crown for a loan. As if the good King Draakon is some dubious charlatan whose ability to honor his obligations is in question."

He waved a hand. "Apologies Lord. I overstep. You are Admiral. It is your prerogative to refuse her royal highness and suffer the consequences. Not mine."

Not only was Leithianor foolish in matters of administration, Abram realized he had no tact as a courtier either. How such an imbecile was appointed to the Council was beyond him. Abram prayed the Queen could see he was unfit to sit at the table.

Gared says to the Queen,"As I am King's Man I hope you will take my advice seriously and with profusion when I tell you that you should take Lord Cavely's suggestion. I too not only agree with Lord Cavely, but I have seen Lord' Cavely's brother in action. He is a loyal vassal and he can handle this." Gared thought about the support he put behind Lord Abram Cavely, was it worth it? Was he gaining an enemy that is the Admiral of the Royal Fleet?

So many thoughts went through his mind. The courting request, Lord Griffin's death, many things that plagued his mind. It was almost if he lived in two worlds the real world and a world filled with his problems and time consuming tasks. A world with endless amounts of time.

[Cuprum]

Abram looked at Lord Leithianor confused.

"Her Highness has agreed to the proposal Lord Leithianor. Are you saying that her decision is shameful? That she mocks the navy? That what she is doing is petty? And if I may correct Lord Leithianor, we do know Count Alden. He's been a loyal vassal to House Errond and has always been there to extend credit when the Crown requires it. I find it strange that you would call House Calvely profiteers when it is you demanding collateral of the Crown for a loan. As if the good King Draakon is some dubious charlatan whose ability to honor his obligations is in doubt."

He waved a hand. "Apologies Lord. I overstep. You are Admiral. It is your prerogative to refuse her royal highness and suffer the consequences. Not mine."

Not only was Leithianor foolish in matters of administration, Abram realized he had no tact as a courtier either. How such an imbecile was appointed to the Council was beyond him. Abram prayed the Queen could see he was unfit to sit at the table.

''Tell me something, what is better? To have a bunch of flatterers and parasites who only know about gold and debt extension without proposing solutions or a cynical with harsh solutions. You are like parrots, you make too much ado about nothing, a parrot who only eats gold and produces debt. The kingdom is ruined in the economical aspect and you have being proposing debt, more debt to make your friends creditors of the crown without caring about the consequences of that. I was willing to buy the whole fleet, I was even willing to give an unpayable loan to maintain that white elephant, who is stupid enough to invest in the fleet, in times of peace a battleship is completely useless for everything but patrol just like the army, no profit can't came from that but I was willing to waste my money on that.''

[Laurvier]

Royal Council Chambers

"I don't understand your qualms Lord Leithianor. You yourself offered to loan the Crown funds just now yet you criticize my House for doing so but with a better, less insulting offer. You call yourself a parasite and a parrot my Lord. And yes, how very generous of you Lord Leithianor to buy the royal fleet and leave the Crown without one. " Abram replied not quite understanding him.

"I may not be a sailor but I beg to differ on Lord Leithianor's assertion about ships. They can very well be used for trade. At least the cogs and the galleys can stick to the shoreline conducting trade within the kingdom only." He said to the Queen then paused turning back to Leithianor. "If Her Highness's decision is so dishonorable and devoid of virtue then why do you address me? Tell it to the one who made the decision my Lord, if you dare." Abram said, challenging him, hoping he would.

[Amuaplye]

(Image)
House of Burgussøn
Våctshin Fïter Dårið

Sigmund Burgussøn
Sigmund was looking out the window of his room, muttering to himself. A note slid under the door. He picked it up, slightly enthusiatic. It was a note from Ansa. It said:

Sigmund, I love you. Do you love me?

He chuckled to himself, before looking out the window. "Will I see you again?" He said, before looking out again. He then decides to jump, he jumps out the window, falling from the tower to the ground below.

Filippa Burgussøn
"What's the commotion?" She asked Sigurð. "I heard a thud coming from Sigmund's room." "Let me see..." Said Sigurð. He walks outside, near Sigmund's room, and sees Sigmund's corpse. He picks it up, and takes it to a small plot of land, and buries him.

Sigurð Burgussøn
He calls his family over, and he starts reciting.

Dåmørtisit Pom (The Funeral Poem.)

Føwes, un Føwes te püttes won Dagråv,
Tin ønder te henth daperpøl møråv,
Son daperpøl cuy, un cuy,
Åns dabødå isth lowad inta dagråv

English Translation:
Flowers, and flowers to put on the grave,
In order to have the people mourn,
So the people cry and cry,
As the body is lowered into the grave.

[Gerdon Laughis]

Vokstangard, Capitol of The Northern Wastes
Naddoðr sat on the Northern Throne. The people were giving their quarterly grievances, and the peasant's droned on about their petty squabbles and border disputes. Although one of the peasants from the Bloc spoke of secession...

The peasant was dressed nicely for someone of his position, probably speaking on behalf of the Count of the Region. He spoke thus.

"My Jarl, I come from a Trading Company along the river flowing into The Brinelunds. Attempts at passing the border into the Brinelund Heartland have been met with resistance and hostility as they see us as Barbarians, Looters, and raiders. We wish to connect our capitols to get much needed supplies for the people. Your opinion?"

The Jarl had a feeling this would happen. Tensions had grown along the borders since The Wastes had been added to the Kingdom as they could not see themselves as citizens of the same nation of the "Barbarians". But trade winds could not simply stop flowing, and a response was needed on a higher level than that of peasants and merchants.

"My friend," Naddoðr spoke calmly and with power as he addressed the peasant. "This is an issue that is important to the growth of our realm. I shall send word to the Brinish Lord asking for an Open Trade Agreement to be signed allowing us access to their ports."

The Peasent replied along of lines of "Thank you my Jarl" and left quietly, his job being finished. The Jarl called his scribe and told him what he wished to be sent to the lord, and one to the King addressing the matters of fully integrating this territory.

To:Great-Lord Heath II
From:Jarl Naddoðr
Your High Lordship, it has been brought to my attention that your people refuse to allow mine access to your ports. I understand why they may be distrustful of us, but we are in need of supplies and we cannot receive them if your people refuse us access to the fertile Brinish Heartlands to trade. We wish you may declare open trade with us, so our merchants may procure goods from yours. Please Consider this request - Jarl Naddoðr Laughis of The Territory of the Northern Wastes

To:King Draako Errond II
From:Jarl Naddoðr Laughis
My King, The Men of the Wastes have been apart of the kingdom since the rule of your Father and the amount of hostility towards us has been outstanding. The Northern Wastes have been treated as a foreign land in all but name for the entire time it has been apart of this realm. I am requesting from you, My Lord, that you declare under Royal Authority, that The Territory of The Northern Wastes be considered an Integrated part of the realm. It would be renamed to its old name, De Høy-Riket av Agartha (The High-Kingdom of Agartha). I would be granted the title of Høy-Konge (High-King), which would have the same level of authority of one of the Great Lords. Thank you for your time, Jarl Naddoðr Laughis of the Territory of The Northern Wastes

[Keshokif]

Reystag, the Reyek Isles, Moonshae
The Docks

The docks were abuzz with the sounds of readying ships and loading men. The day was bright, though the clouds hid the sky, and the seas were fairly calm - a slow ebbing of the tide created the familiar and fairly comforting sound which Horwick Reaklan was so well accustomed to. The longship in front of the main dockhouse had belonged to Horwick since he was twelve, and his father had given it to him as a gift. It was a decent-sized ship, with sails emblazoned with Reaklan's crest and numerous Reaklan shields on its side. The figurehead was a depiction of the Seafather - his father had carved it especially for Horwick. It was masterfully crafted. At that time, few ships were being made, since the Reyek Isles were not engaged in raiding.

The boatmaster approached Horwick quickly, "My Eorl; the ship is ready."

Horwick stared once more at the ship - his memories of it flooding into his mind - then nodded at the boatmaster and descended the steps to the water's edge. Once down, he climbed into the longship. There were a large number of men inside the ship, mainly oarsmen, though there was a man with a raven in a cage, another navigator, a drummer and a rudderman. The were already prepared for leaving. The Eorl looked at each man, and each man in turn looked back at him. He strode to the rear of the vessel and nodded approvingly at the drummer. The drum pounded, and the men on the decks heaved. A few minutes later, the ship left the small harbour surrounding Reystag. Horwick instructed the rudderman to turn south-by-southwest. The trip would take at most two days, with the ship likely arriving in the early morning the day after tomorrow. Of course, the ship would stop at Corwell for the night, allowing for decent sleep before the end of the journey. Horwick had made this journey many times before - he did not know why he was overthinking it now. Nevertheless, it would be relatively soon that they'd arrive. Horwick could not wait to meet with the High Lord once more.

[Jorliefstreiken]

Lord Sedri Lucovic, The Rook


Sedri sat upon his large throne, listening to the complaints of the miners and peasants. His jet black hair hung low over his face, while his uncle stood next to him. Upon his chest was the symbol of his house, a golden Griffon, set upon the ultramarine of his tunic. Some houses couldn't afford even a wool cap dyed ultramarine using Lapis, but he was able to have 3 whole tunics colored it, not to mention the amount of the actual gemstone set into his tourney armor. How he missed the days when he traveled the land and participated in toruneys. Now however, he was forced t remain cramped within the abomination of a fortress, wasting away until another far off lord offered him his daughter as a wife. Suddenly, Sedri was struck with an idea. He finished up with the current peasants trial (He had tried to sneak some of the gold he mined out of the shafts) and ended his daily court. He called up his steward, a short man called Thrim and began to dictate to him a letter. Sedri could write, but Thrim had neater script and so it was better for him to write the letter. Sedri dictated to Thrim the following

To (lord or lady) (insert name)


You are cordially invited to the feast and tourney in honor of my brother Fordr's coming of age next month. The feast shall occur in a monthes time and last for a fortnight, with a diffren tourney event each day. Bring your swords and shields, and prepare for the most spectacular feast of the decade. We hope that you can attend, and please, no poison this time.

Yours, Lord Sedri Lucovic

Sedri read it over a few times before handing ti back to Thrim. Sedri said "Good, now properly adress them and send them to every lord within the land. also add on that they may bring any size entourage they wish, so long as they don't bring an army with them.: Thrim rushed off to do his masters will.

[Kaledoria]

Northeast of Caisleán Ailech
Magh Meall

Fergus Cimbáeth
...Three days earlier...

Fergus and his personal guard had traveled one day upstream and one day to the east and reached a forest. Seeing that the usually Meallian Forest was rather light, this one was dense in comparison. Clearly, strong nature magic must be working here, Fergus thought.

The rode north along the forest's edge until they reached an Obelisk. The Knight Captain blew a horn and then they waited. After a while, a grey robed figure stepped out of the forest. Fergus walked towards the man, he was about forty and was reasonably fit for the age. Long brown hair, long beard but rather decently combed for a person living in the wild. He looked at Fergus and realized the golden circlet, the Ducal Crown. He nodded and said: "So, you are the leader of the nobles of this land?" Fergus nodded back. The implication in the mans words (that he was leader of only nobles and not of him) would certainly have warranted a throughout flogging for many people in many places but Druids were generally considered an exception and Fergus was talking to the man as an equal. "Yes, Duke Fergus. May I ask your name and what God you follow?"
"Straight ahead," the Druid answered, "I'm Leith. And as you could probably guess, I follow the mother who gave birth to everything that lives."

Fergus noticed the epithet and smiled: "You mean the Earthmother?"
"So your church would call her. The first and greatest of all Gods, though obviously not the last to have children and be remarked for it." The Druid answered and Fergus focussed him. Was this a joke on the Holy Mother? The Druid did not show any emotion that would suggest it.
"Good Leith, I'm not here to convert you or anything. In fact, this was what I was looking for. Would you also happen to know the native language of the Moonshae Isles or maybe one of your fellows?" Fergus asked.
"It is good to know a few languages. It helps you understand, how other folk think. In other words: Yes, I know it myself, though I had little opportunity to converse with a native speaker for quite a while." He could obviously guess Fergus request, and continued: "If I was to take a boat trip over high waters, say to the west, I would also renew my standing with the Seafather, a God whose significance dramatically increases, the closer to water you come. For a price."
"I am seeking someone who would travel to the Isles and talk with their nobles, respectfully. Problems are brewing up and I want to try everything to find a diplomatic solution, before it gets serious. I heard it might be about faith issues and you could probably convince them, that the King's position on this is not all bad and they won't be force converted, just for accepting preachers of the Mother-Faith in their lands. Though honestly, I believe, it's not just about faith. Or "cultural identity" for that matter. Find out, what they really want and how much of it. Your coven shall receive a half Dragon for this journey and another Eagle if it takes longer then a month, once you get the job finished."

[Hippie Kiwis]

Caer Callidyrr

High Lord of the Isles Aavak Blackraven hated standing trial. He had appointed judges to do this for him, but his honor forced him to judge criminals when it was deemed necessary. During his inspection of the new ships being built, he’d stubbled upon a thief. He had stolen jewelry from a visiting noblewoman from Moray Isle, an offense punishable with the loss of a hand. He was even more disappointed by the event because he’d been inspecting a rather beautiful ship at the time, one he intended to take as the new flagship of the fleet. The thief pleaded for his fingers, but the man was obviously guilty, and Aavak was upset about the disturbance, so, upon declaring hip guilty, a small log was brought forth and the High Lord used his handaxe to take the mans hand. his servant then cauterized the wound and sent him on his way. A sea breeze picked up, and the smell of salt peaked. With it came the guttural sounds of a mooring horn. A longship was approaching. When examination of the banner confirmed it as a vessel of House Reaklan, the harbor chain was pulled aside to allow entrance to the docks. He spotted Horwick on the deck as it pulled against pier. Oh, it would be good to see an old friend again.

[United Socialist Republics of Lupina]

The Wolf's Den
Dragonfall, the Capital
The Crownlands

Honor and Victory

Count Erron
The Royal Council Chambers

The Master of the Shadows chuckled at the movement towards that particular subject. "Aye, the corrupt aspects that once were Lord Payne's creatures have either become the crown's or been relieved of their posts." he chuckled, "This is an old matter, and hardly one worth mentioning before this council. After all, if the crown were to arrest every lord, judge and sheriff that took an indulgence, we would have no one left to rule the kingdom." he grinned, his father chuckled opposite him.

The Queen gave him an icy stare, "Are you saying there is truth to these allegations?"

The grin left Erron's face, he turned to look over at his father, who was quick to clear his throat, "Well, of course there may be some who are living more outside the means of their station, but there are hardly any who are receiving a coin than any other for their services." the elder Esham observed. Everyone knew the price of justice was always a high one, the wealthy were indeed the best suited to the law.

"You are to scrutinize your appointments and bring results to these allegations straight to the Crown." the Queen commanded. The pair grudgingly nodded, Erron hated how the woman was always opposing him; simply because she was jealous of how close he was to the King. He would turn the tables against her soon enough though. The King could undo everything with but a word.

The council moved on to the next item of debate, the powers of the Faith.

Erron was the first to speak, "Your Highness, the Faith's authority in the realm is already subject to the rule of the crown, the Faith should hardly be expected to concede more to the crown as it is." He worried that the expanded powers of other nobles at this table to interfere in the affairs of ecclesiastical authorities would force the more suggestible and women of business from the powerful church positions and holdings across the kingdom.

[Albertae]

The Wolf's Den
Dragonfall, the Capital
The Crownlands

(Image)
Honor and Victory

Count Erron
The Royal Council Chambers

The Master of the Shadows chuckled at the movement towards that particular subject. "Aye, the corrupt aspects that once were Lord Payne's creatures have either become the crown's or been relieved of their posts." he chuckled, "This is an old matter, and hardly one worth mentioning before this council. After all, if the crown were to arrest every lord, judge and sheriff that took an indulgence, we would have no one left to rule the kingdom." he grinned, his father chuckled opposite him.

The Queen gave him an icy stare, "Are you saying there is truth to these allegations?"

The grin left Erron's face, he turned to look over at his father, who was quick to clear his throat, "Well, of course there may be some who are living more outside the means of their station, but there are hardly any who are receiving a coin than any other for their services." the elder Esham observed. Everyone knew the price of justice was always a high one, the wealthy were indeed the best suited to the law.

"You are to scrutinize your appointments and bring results to these allegations straight to the Crown." the Queen commanded. The pair grudgingly nodded, Erron hated how the woman was always opposing him; simply because she was jealous of how close he was to the King. He would turn the tables against her soon enough though. The King could undo everything with but a word.

The council moved on to the next item of debate, the powers of the Faith.

Erron was the first to speak, "Your Highness, the Faith's authority in the realm is already subject to the rule of the crown, the Faith should hardly be expected to concede more to the crown as it is." He worried that the expanded powers of other nobles at this table to interfere in the affairs of ecclesiastical authorities would force the more suggestible and women of business from the powerful church positions and holdings across the kingdom.

Gared sensed Erron's message saying this to change to another subject,"I believe that is the last thing on the list, correct? If so, may we leave?" Gared also pondered though what the Faith could have hidden from the Crown.

[Keshokif]

~snip~

Callidyrr, Gwynneth, Moonshae
The Harbour

Horwick Reaklan jumped to the bow of the ship, his arm grabbing onto the intricately designed figurehead. He scanned the shoreline for his friend, the Blackraven. Suddenly, he saw him, looking fairly scruffy, but coping. Horwick didn't look too tidy himself - his dyed yak-skin coat hung loosely about his shoulders, and a belt was done up halfheartedly around his waist, but other than that, his hair was salt-encrusted, his crew were tired and sweaty, and the man with the raven was coloured a distinct shade of green. As the longship moved in towards the shoreline, Horwick nodded towards his navigator, before jumping over the side and onto the ground. Aye he still had it. His knees ached a bit, but he recovered soon enough. He walked towards Aavak and, seeing him, opened his arms to embrace his friend.

[Cuprum]

Outside the coast of Sudimbraland in Southern Eriador is a flat island – Melitele – which is only reached by low tide from a causeway. So it is really a peninsula, and is known by the name of Holy Island. It belongs to the archipelago of Farne. On the only hill on the island a castle was built in medieval times – Sudimbraland Castle. Otherwise the coastline is dominated by low sandbanks – ideal landing places for the ships. In the centre of the island lies an ancient temple that once played a vital part in society at the time.

On the seventh of the ides of June, they reached the temple of Melitele, and there they miserably ravaged and pillaged everything; they trod the holy things under their polluted feet, they dug down the altars, and plundered all the treasures of the temple. Some of the brethren they slew, some they carried off with them in chains, the greater number they stripped naked, insulted, and cast out of doors, and some they drowned in the sea to satisfy their idols. The community on the island comprised women of all ages – including young apprentices studying the Holy Scriptures. Many of them – it is told – were “carried off in chains”. Some were also “raped” by the raiders before being drowned. Many of the youngsters were probably sold in the slave markets. Tongues of fire above Ljodhus playfully licked the sky. People fled in all directions, from their burning shacks. The worshippers of the Drowned God ravaged Melitele with fire, their swords drenched in blood, the servants of the faith lost their lives and fortunes.

After the temple was ravaged and burned by the Drowned Men, the wolf of Tyrvist joyfully cloured his teeth red, the Greenland prince caused many a young maiden to weep before choosing the next place.

''Tell my father he will receive 11kg of gold from this raid. The faith of this pagans will give us a lot of money.''

[Hippie Kiwis]

~snip~

~snip~

Caer Callidyrr

"It's good too see you friend. Come, come, I have wine, and important matters to discuss." He gestured toward the castle, and started to walk.

[United Socialist Republics of Lupina]

The Wolf's Den
Dragonfall, the Capital
The Crownlands

Courage, Fidelity, Victory

Queen Beatrice
The Royal Council Chambers

The Queen stared at Count Esham with a displeased look on her face, not liking to have to agree with the greedy lord, but the Faith could only be pushed so far before they turned upon the Crown. Indeed, the Crown did not need to be the scourge of the ecclesiastical and religious world. There would be no end to the problems that the Faith could throw upon the Crown's already problematic position.

"Unfortunately, I must agree with the Master of Shadows. The Faith has been pushed on its knees by the power of the Crown, it is best they be allowed to stand and resume their holy work. The Crown shall not act against the Faith of the Mother, nor shall any other vassal of the King." she commanded.

"Well then, if that is all that this council was to decide upon, then you may officially end the meeting of this Council, Lord Jarbary." she rose and walked out of the chambers with a regal dignity, hoping that she had kept the Esham's off-balance for the time being.

[Keshokif]

~snip~

Callidyrr, Gwynneth, Moonshae
Above the Harbour

"Aye, friend, the feeling is well met!"

The two began to walk, Horwick still smelling the salt on his beard and his hair long before smelling it in the air around him. He was glad. It gave him a sense of homeliness, like he was still back on Reyek. Alas, the Moonshaes were a completely different set of lands than the rest of the Moonshaes, and Horwick knew it - from the smell, from the sound, from the sky's deep blue. The rocks felt different, the sand had felt different, and the grass felt different too. The buildings looked different too. Looking up at the castle of Callidyrr, he could see ramparts and walls far larger than any of those on Greater Reyek, and the longhouses of his Northern brethren... Well, they simply didn't exist. The land looked more civilised, even if only a bit. The Moonshaes were more fertile, he knew that. But, from the looks of the men and women around the island, they yearned for raiding like Horwick himself did. Speaking of which, he had something which he urgently wanted to discuss since he arrived. He spoke softly, yet with purpose.

"Any news from the mainland? I'm sure they're not finished raping our land and stopping us from subsisting with what we have."

[Albertae]

The Wolf's Den
Dragonfall, the Capital
The Crownlands

(Image)
Courage, Fidelity, Victory

Queen Beatrice
The Royal Council Chambers

The Queen stared at Count Esham with a displeased look on her face, not liking to have to agree with the greedy lord, but the Faith could only be pushed so far before they turned upon the Crown. Indeed, the Crown did not need to be the scourge of the ecclesiastical and religious world. There would be no end to the problems that the Faith could throw upon the Crown's already problematic position.

"Unfortunately, I must agree with the Master of Shadows. The Faith has been pushed on its knees by the power of the Crown, it is best they be allowed to stand and resume their holy work. The Crown shall not act against the Faith of the Mother, nor shall any other vassal of the King." she commanded.

"Well then, if that is all that this council was to decide upon, then you may officially end the meeting of this Council, Lord Jarbary." she rose and walked out of the chambers with a regal dignity, hoping that she had kept the Esham's off-balance for the time being.

Gared stood up to say the last words,"If everyone could hand in this years taxes to Lord Cavely that would be nice, otherwise I call this meeting to a close. Expect to be called back next year unless unfortunate events ensue in which you are all called back." Gared gave his chest of taxes to Lord Cavely and then asked,"Once you log and store the taxes would you mind joining me for dinner?"

[Hippie Kiwis]

~snip~

Caer Callidyrr

Avaak checked to make sure no one was standing close enough to listen in. "I should have talked to you about this sooner. In my last visit to Dragonfall, the King demanded that we build temples to the mainland gods here, to show our loyalty to the crown through piety. I spit in his face and left." He opened a concealed door in the wall of the Caer, no point using the main gate. "I have something I need to show you." Aavak led Horwick across the castle yard, and into the keep. The castle was the biggest on all the moonshaes, but still small when compared to the great citadels on the mainland. The deep basements of the fortress were seldom used, except for storage. He got keys to one of the cellar rooms from a steward, and brought Horwick inside. "These vaults contain documents from the reign of King Erron the Conqueror. Among them is a written record of the oath High Lord Kyler Blackraven gave to the Dragonslayer." He pulled a massive tome off a shelf, and laid it out on a table. Inside was an ancient looking piece of paper inscribed in the Old Tongue of the Isles. "The High Lord made sure his scribes recorded a paper copy of the oath in case a situation like this should arise. If you skip through all the paltry blather, you can find that Kyler, the devil he was, left conditions for the Isles’ fealty. As you can see here: ‘The Isles shall serve the Kings of Dragonfall even with their flase gods, as long as the true gods rule the Isles’. Kyler Blackraven has given us the legal right of secession, since King Draako tried to build pagan temples on our soil, we are if we chose, no longer bound by Kyler's oath of fealty. The only question is, should we."

[Keshokif]

~snip~

~snip~

Callidyrr, Gwynneth, Moonshae
Caer Callidyrr

Horwick pondered for a moment. On the one hand, seceding would be a great thing for the islands. On the other hand, it could lead to strife. While Horwick wanted to end the domination and oppression his people, and the people of the Moonshaes, had suffered for generations, and this appeared to be the answer for it, he was hesitant. Was this the same Horwick Reaklan who had been given the vision only a few days prior? Horwick himself didn't know. In many ways, he wanted to raid the mainland, but a part of himself which he felt had not spoken up in years began to think of the consequences. If they seceded now, the fleets of men on the mainland would come and rape and pollage. Better, perhaps, to wait for strife on the mainland before they did anything rash.

Rash? He was beginning to sound like his father; a man so ineffectual that he couldn't even believe the myth of the dragon's dominance while outwardly appearing to. Was Horwick, the son of raiders and looters, plagued by fear? Moreover, when the Reaklans of old found him, would they throw him into the sea with a millstone for his weakness? No! He was Horwick Reaklan, the Eorl of the Reyek Isles and the friend of the Lord of the Moonshaes! Where was the space for fear? He drew his ceremonial axe, which he only brought to such occasions as diplomacy or discussions of high importance. He thrust the butt forward, stopping it short of Avaak's hand.

"You have my loyalty, and you have my fleet. When is the best time to move, My Lord?"

[Hippie Kiwis]

~snip~

Caer Callidyrr

Aavak had gone over this time and time again in his head. He'd hoped that Horwick would have some valuable input, but he was just as plagued by indecision as he was. Truly, he couldn't blame him. To forsake vows of fealty? "To break the vows now would be foolish, but soon it will be time. In Dragonfall I could see the rifts, ministers plotting against each other, and deep grudges between nobles. Soon, it will be apparent that the realm will be unable to support itself. It may even be that they have bigger problems to worry about than rebellious Islands. I could see the rifts, huge and deep. It would take decades to heal them, and more like for them to burst into civil war. That will be our time to strike. The lords and kings will be too busy fighting each other to notice our longships before it is too late." He closed the book and replaced it on its perch. "Do understand that talk of this is not to leave this room. Even here, the King and others have ears... Now I do believe the arrival of the greatest lord these Isles know 'sides a Blackraven deserves a feast. It will be midday soon, so there is still time to arrange something. Come along." He opened the door, and gestured for his friend to follow.

[Keshokif]

~snip~

~snip~

Callidyrr, Gwynneth, Moonshae
Caer Callidyrr

Eorl Reaklan laughed heartily at the Blackraven's comment. "Come on! We all know that all the greatest lords of these isles have been Reaklans!" His voice showed his jesting manner, and he laughed aloud with his Lord. The Eorl walked with the Lord out of the door. Eorl Reaklan decided to strike up a further conversation. "So, what news do I need to know from the Moonshaes? Have things changed since I was here last? It certainly doesn't look so, though I wouldn't presume to know as well as you, m'Lord."

[Kaledoria]

Caer Callidyrr
Leith the Druid

"I request audience with the Great Lord Aavak Blackraven," Leith told the clerk. The Guard had been easily enough convinced to let him in when he had spoken in an authoritarian voice, though he was not yet allowed to meet with the Lordness.
"And who are you?" the man asked.
"Name's Leith but it is of no importance; what matters is, that I speak on behalf of the people of Magh Meall and their Great Lord, the Duke Fergus of Clan Cimbàeth. He is very concerned about the relations between the Isles and the mainland in general and between House Blackraven and Clan Cimbàeth specifically."
"The Great Lord is busy, come again later."
"Yes, he is speaking to Eorl Reaklan, I saw the Lord's ships in the harbor. The matters of state concern him too, so it would be best, if I could conference with the two of them," Leith speculated. He did not know, whether the Eorl was talking to his liege right now, but he could not imagine another for the ships being in port."
The clerk ordered the Guard to watch Leith, while he went to see, whether the Lords would receive the emissary.

[New Granadeseret]

Velksmaw Harbor, Brinelund Proper

It was rather busy in the harbor for this time of year; High Karlson heath silently thanking the fact that the winds were blowing inland today as he and his escort watched ships large and small work their way onto the crowded docks. It kept the air they were breathing fresh and pleasant; rather than having to put up with the sour stink of a thousands of unwashed merchant-men's crewmen packing themselves like sardines into the cheaper ale and flop houses which lined the silty beaches, and filled the air with the shouts of captains and sailors arguing over who'd get to occupy the insufficient dockages and actual beds... no doubt driving up prices to the point that any smart innkeeper was bound to make a small fortune by the time this crisis had blown over. And, as a Lord, Heath knew he shouldn't complain: after all, he knew most of this traffic were ships who used to ply the seas between Callidyrr and the mainland, and if what used to be Lord Blackraven's silver was coming to him instead well...

Perhaps it was worth the sour taste in his mouth the whole situation gave him; figuratively and at times literally. Slowly, though, he began relaxing as his eyes followed the wide-hulled vessel; pulling down its blue-dyed sails as it made its way into harbor. Last Sight, the behemoth flagship of the Brinelund's fleet, pointed from the south-east: the sailors dashing around on deck with a finely-honed efficiency, the lordly entourage slowly trotting over to meet it as the anchor finally crashed into the ocean. Heath sat at the foot of the gangplank, looking up as a burly figured emerged from his cabin: cracking a smile as he saw the faded pink leaves bound in an armband around the otherwise martial boiled leather of his uniform.

"Halt, stranger... what have you done with my brother?" He shouted the demand jokingly, flicking his wrist at the man as he slowly made his way down, harpoon slung over his shoulder. The man let out a hearty laugh in return, meshing almost perfectly with the tide as he strode his way towards the party: extending his free arm upwards.

"Hah... do you not recognize me, my Lord?" Bjor joked in return, clasping hands with his Lord-Brother. "They do say the sea changes a man... but I didn't realize six moons was enough to fool my own kin." The guards moved to the side, making room for the two to finish their handshake, before one tugged ahead the empty steed they'd been guiding forward for such an occasion.

"I couldn't forget a face like that even if you were gone for years." Heath breaking his hold as he spoke. "Still, it is wonderful to see you again after so long. Your visits always bring back wonderful tales. We'll have to drink tonight so you can share them." Behind them, the crew began making its way down the plank: hauling cargo up from the depths of the hold and carrying the crates, barrels, and bound-canvas packages ashore.

"Heh... I've already prepared for it," Bjor pointed backwards to the faintly yellow-planked barrels rolling behind him: a hint of the sweet scent carried by the wind. "Man'i Anuenu sends his strongest and finest regards to his liege, and swore me to raise a bowl for your longevity and happiness in his stead. Swears that anything you desire, you need only ask for and he shall happily provide..." the words rolled off somewhat snidely as Heath squinted skeptically.

"Then..." he breathed out a faintly annoyed sigh as he glanced back up to the deck expectantly. "I presume this is not the only gift the honorable Lord has sent me?" He reached up, lightly rubbing his temple. Sure enough, right on cue, a thin, canvas-covered rectangle was being pulled up from the ship: the same shape he'd seen half a dozen times from half a dozen other boats. This time, it was slightly less annoying as Bjor patted him on the back, shrugging to show he understood the predicament.

"Yes... the Man'i also decided to gift to you the sight of the MOST beautiful bloom of your lands, expressed by only the finest painter on the Ilavs; a portrait of his daughter Linana, for your approval." Bjor patted the side of his horse with a smirk... suggesting what he thought of the girl himself before mounting himself. "Though, I suppose within sight of the fish-market isn't the best place to discuss matters of the heart. Perhaps we need to loosen you up first with some of Anuenu's famous drink, hmm?"

"We have far more important business to cover first," Heath tried to dismiss the matter, tugging on the reigns to turn his stallion around. "And I know of a hall perfect for such things. Come men... back to the castle!" He shouted, Bjor joining him inside the circle of mounted warriors as they rode above the throngs: even the rowdiest and soped fellow not stupid enough to stand in the way of the Great-Lord's men.

A few hours later, The Stalgfang, Upper Chambers

The two brothers leaned back in their chairs and stretched their arms: two half-empty mugs of sweet hard cider resting on the table in front of them. It was true Bjor's room diden't see too much use, yet despite that the tapestries were always keep beaten, the stone-tiled floors swiped, a pile of dry firewood piled up by the fireplace. It wasn't as nearly as fancy as Heath's own lordly chambers: with its wardrobes, its art, the large balcony overlooking the bay and the city below; the citizens scurrying around the street like ants from this height. But that place always had his servants, guards at the doors which were always being knocked on my some courtier or advisor. Ironically, despite the fortress being half natural caverns and being one of the most secure structures in the Brinelund, only here could Heath ever find guaranteed privacy with his most trusted advisor. If only because he knew Bjor never hesitated to tell him things just as they were.

"I suppose its time for business, eh?" Bjor asked, resting one hand on the mariner's chart of the Brinelund's domains that were spread out before them... islands and settlements connected by an array of dotted lines showing the shifts in the seasonal winds and currents. Islands Heath; nearly always bound to the shore by his lordly duties, only knew from books and reports, which his younger brother sailed between without a care. Sometimes, he envied the freedom that man had... heart aching that their father was still hear to bare that burden instead of being stolen away by those thrice-cursed Marshmen.

"It is," a tinge of regret entered his voice as he pointed to the east: at the isle of Jars. "You did manage to get to all the ports I asked for this time, didn't you?"

"I did, I did," Bjor happily assured him as tapped the spot with his knuckle. "And let me tell you, this was about the worst of it. Not alot of joy on the Shield right now, no sir. Rumor has it Sark lost a homestead to a freebooter raid. People are wondering why the Royal Fleet isn't sending out patrols that way anymore, keeping itself to the south." This elicited a snort from Heath, shaking his head as he remembered the make-up of the ships outside... perhaps only a single Royal Galley among them, during such a rush in merchant traffic.

"Bah, you know that ancient monster Leithianor doesn't even care about the appearance of being fair," he spat bitterly, taking a long swing of his drink. "Keeps the fool King's ships south, guarding his own interests better than the grain barges that feed the Capital rather than protecting the realm. But what should I expect from a spicemonger?" He cast a sharp glare to the south end of the map, where the main routes from Eriador ran up through the Ilav... their lazy merchant-houses robbing the good, industrious people blind with their dishonest practices and royally-granted privileges while pocketing the profits of trade with the enemy. "What is His Majesty thinking, keeping that fool in charge of his navy? If his father were still on the throne..." he trailed off, Bjor interrupting him with a smack on the table.

"Heh... well, if you think you can bring a man back from the dead..." Bjor chuckled, helping pull Heath back on track. "The middle Drakkos is a fool, yes, but it's not entirely his fault. Plenty of fools run into the same fate: you're pockets are feeling a bit light, and you're mighty thirsty after a long day of work, the barkeep offers you a bit tab. With the drink so free and easy, its not hard to end up drinking yourself to the floor and find yourself waking on a galley-bench, bound to the oar with chains of borrowed gold. King Dakkos just indebted himself to a particularly cruel and demanding master. Besides," he licked his lips deviously. "Might not be best to wander into toying with treason while the only person in the room is your armed heir. Might start giving me ideas..." the smirk on his face showed he was clearly joking, Heath's foul mood dissipating at the silliness of it all.

"And leave you chained to the Bench as Great-Lord? You'd never do that to yourself, Admiral... that's why I know I have nothing to fear from you." He shot back playfully, before tapping the spot again. "Anyways, you know what I sent you there to check out. How are the conditions in Harkenshaven?"

"Just as you'd thought they were. Docks are in good shape, but haven't gotten more than maintenance in the better part of a decade. No way it'd be able to serve as a decent supply port for an invasion fleet." He looked serious, the two each feeling a twinge in their gut. Both had always suspected one of the reasons the campaigns across the channel had gone as badly as they did was not because the warriors of the much of the Realm lacked in skill and courage; at least as far as unweaned woman-worshipers went, but because the gallivant King Drakkos I had essentially left the armies he'd sent to fend for themselves; allowing the foreign princes to wear them down until even the strongest elements couldn't fight any longer. If on the other hand they could capture a port-city, and have enough supplies and ships prepared on the Shield to reinforce the re-conquering armies and protect ships laiden with food, weapons, siege equipment, ect. to supply them, the next attack could be far more successful. But that would require more docks fortified buildings on Jars to support the navy... and with the Finwe's in charge they hadn't been able to pry a single rusty copper out of the naval budget to pay for it.

"You mean as I feared they would be," Heath responded in flat frustration. "And there's no way we'll be able to pry away a single ship so long as this farce with the Moonshaes continues. And for what reason? Are the King and Raven putting on some elaborate play for realm's amusement? Truely only they and The Father knows what's going on there."

Bjor responded with a gesture towards the Ilav-Alehwana, smiling. "Well, at least the Ok'u are pleased with it. Without the western competition, the demand their lighting oil, soaps, hell most of the Ilav's products have increased twice over. No doubt the tax-fleet will be laden extra heavy this year. Perhaps even enough to lay down some more hulls for our fleet." He sounded pleased. "Or enough for you to double your visits to Madame Grechen's... Aha!" He was stopped midway as Heath kicked him in the shin, scowling. "No need to be so serious, I jest of course. Unless I speak a bit too close to the... stop it!"

"Sorry sorry... you know how touchy I can get about these things. I've just gotten to staff to stop gossiping... I don't need you to start too." Heath held his forehead, tilting his head down to the table.

"You mean our terror of an aunt as just gotten them to stop," he corrected, refilling his drink. "Who of course, is the reason I imagine our good lord's portrait will be stocking the kitchen fire soon. 'No lazing island wench is good enough for my darling nephew', right?" Those words hit surprisingly close to the mark, Heath gritting his teeth and leaving a moment of silence as he thought up a response.

"You know she's only looking out for me," he countered sternly "Now, about that rumored pitch-pit I asked you to investigate." Bjor diden't respond as he'd hoped, folding his arms and staring his brother in the eyes.

"I'm not letting you dodge this, my Lord. If for no other reason than a darling nephew of me own is what'll keep me on the sea," he shot back with just as much conviction; his rugged, leathery face a bit intimidating, reminding Heath of their father's disappointment. "I'm not saying you have to marry the next nag one of your vassals offers up, but if you're waiting for auntie Svanhild's approval you'll be waiting a good long while."

"Most common men aren't married at my age..."

"Aye, but most common men wouldn't have a house to put a wife up in." Bjor's voice steady grew both sharper and quieter as he went on, hearing footsteps approaching outside the door. "You've got this massive palace, and its going to get awful cold and lonely if the only feminine company Svanhild is going to let you have is herself and our lady-sisters. Widow's Greif has driven her off the deep end... surely you can see that?

Heath took a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm as he faintly realized he was a bit deeper into his cups than he'd planned to be. "... what is it you want me to do?" He demanded, Bjor softening as he saw his brother simmer back down.

"You've been cooped up too long for a man you're age, Heath," he fumbled around his his belt, flipping his drinking companion a pair of Gold Dragons from across the table. "Tomorrow, why don't you borrow some cloths and I'll take you for a night out. No politics, no court intrigues, no tedious conversation with flatterers. Just food, drink, and good company. We can even get some other company from Grechen's if you..."

"I told you, I didn't know where that old tunnel went to!" Heath said defensively... but couldn't help but smile as he held the coins. "But alright... tomorrow night. I still have business to attend to."

To: Jarl Naddoðr, Lord of the Northern Wastes, fellow vassal of His Sovereign Majesty Drakkos II
From: First Cup and Salt, High Karlson, Great-Lord of the Brinelund, Lord of Stalgfang, Keeper of the Dawn, O-hawa of the Isles, Watchman of the Northern Seas, and Blessed in the Eyes of the Father, Heath II

I do not believe you need a good explanation as to why, until very recently, the exclusion of the Wastelanders from our dominion has been a matter of necessity. For centuries, the ships of our people had come to our lands not as traders, but as pirates: pillaging and looting in a manner abhorrent to the laws of both The Father and civilized men; a practice promoted and even participated in by your predecessors. However, out of respect for your heroic actions against these barbaric traditions and the full unity of these Dominions under the King, we are prepared to put that past aside and allow our peoples to trade freely with one another. Our only two conditions are thus.

A) That you shall pledge upon your honor that the greatest possible effort shall be made to subdue the still loosely-governed tribes in the far north, who still practice their thieving ways despite the outlawing of such acts by His Majesty.

B) That, in light of your ancestor's crimes against the those who spoke on The Father's behalf, missionaries from the Brinelund and Damintin be allowed to operate freely and under the full protection of your laws.

[Albertae]

Council Room

Gared sat waiting for the King to come in or an answer from Cavely by writing two letters. The first was to Lord Seral.

From: Great-Lord Gared Jarbary
To: Lord Seral

Dear, Lord Seral

I write you concerning your request. I will allow you to court my daughter as you've known her a length of time now. I also appoint you my regent, so pick a trusted man of your court to be my Justiciar and spymaster.

Yours truly, Lord Gared Jarbary

The second was to Lord Griffin.

From: Lord Gared Jarbary
To: Lord Griffin

Dear, Lord Griffin

I am sorry for your father's loss and hope you have a long and prosperous rule. You now shall take your father's position on my council as the Steward of Coin. I have also appointed Lord Seral as my regent as the former has died.

My Condolences, Lord Gared Jarbary

He then after writing the letters put his royal wax on the both of them and had a messenger send it via raven.

After doing his personal business he once again asks Lord Cavely,"Would you mind joining me for dinner, Abram?" Gared was one of few men or women in the Queen's case who could address him by his first name.

A messenger walks in to tell Lord Jarbary he has been invited to personally dine with the king. Gared says to Abram,"If you wish to join us come, for you will be my personal guest." At that he got up and left for the King's personal dining room.

[United Socialist Republics of Lupina]

The Wolf's Den
Dragonfall, the Capital
The Crownlands

Courage, Fidelity, Victory

King Draako II
The Private Royal Dinning Chambers

The King had washed after his efforts in the garden and had gone to pray in the chapel for the Mother's love and guidance in the world in which she had created. He also had prayed for the health of his family and that they be guided to their intended destiny by the Mother's hand as well. He often prayed, contemplating The Mother and the paradise beyond for the faithful, but he also took some brief time to contemplate the troubles of the realm. He wondered how the kingdom had been so long in the light of the Mother and yet there were so many still that were not of the one true faith. It was not a new issue to the kingdom, but it had always been his hope that the time that the heathens had found the error of their ignorance.

He pondered on the continent across the Warm Channel, a world of many rulers and cultures, all faithful to the Mother, and yet they were as often divided and at war with one another as ever. He could never claim to have ever dreamed of uniting them all with peace, or with war, he had not the martial spirit nor prowess of his father; Mother Bless his Soul. His attempts to conquer the lands his father had claimed had all been failures. His attempt to buy the Golden Crown of Sardi had collapsed despite all the coin he had placed into the venture.

Indeed, every one of his ventures had tended to fail. It was better for the realm that his Council made such decisions. He couldn't fathom why they wished to draw him into the affairs of the Crown, after all, they wished for immediate royal commands from him when he wished to contemplate upon them for a time, and what better place could there be for contemplation than in the presence of the Mother?

He rose from his praying, making the sign of the Mother before heading to his personal Dinning Chambers. He invited Great-Lord Gared Jarbary as well as Count Erron Elsham, to come personally dine with him. He hoped his wife had been wise and had heeded their advice. After all, they had been appointed to their positions because they were the hands that held the realm together.