[Forum Game] Agorath and the Age of Crowns

[BlackBishop]

The combined armies of the Hroniden Emirates prepare to attack Vahamil

Mid-Spring
Twenty-First Year of the New Age​

In like a lamb, out like a lion is a common expression regarding the seasons of Agorath, and given the slow recede of winter and the swirling events that propel conflict across the land, the saying certainly appears it will hold true. Late snows and frost marked the coming of spring, and even as the month of First Seed came, ice remained on the Icevein Bay and the grip of winter was still firm upon Norseland, and the Vale Mountains still impassable. Many expect the harvest tithes to be light come fall. Meanwhile, the rain season in Hroniden and the southern Wilds is drawing to a close, and their harvest begins in earnest. The peace of the Summit is soon followed by rumours of war, the forces of the Emirates drawn west, to Vahamil, raising the question of whom will toil in the fields should war become wide spread.

It is said by merchants sailing the sea routes of the Amenra to the Great Rhill that all the emirates brace for war, putting aside their personal squabbles and their lust for the Desert Crown, yet to those in Hrondien, who readily sign for peace and marshal their forces, doubt spreads through their ranks as Mutikabir, the former capital of the desert kingdom, holds back most of the forces pledged for a reserve force. Only three of the nine ruling families pledge troops, and it is said to be a mere thousand. This news breaks as most of the vanguard, led by Emir Salah Nasir of Damasiz and Shah Zaahir Rostani leading an auxilary force, march to the Light Basin and to war.

It is apparent that their arrival is expected by Karmont, as their fortified positions in Vahamil are bolstered by fresh troops, though it is unclear how they became privy to the plans of the Hronidians so fast. Rumours spark that Shah Rostani had employed Numerian mercenaries in preparation for war with Mutikabir, while others claim it was queer outlanders in Mutikabir that reported the dealings of the Council of Nine. Whatever the case, the Hronidian hope for a quick and easy war seems to be in jeopardy.

As for the Fae in Vahamil, their fallen morale is sparked to life with the return of Prince Ioron. His return, which was hoped to be followed by aiding armies, is a solitary one. With no armies to help, and the intentions of the Hronidians and the Paladins unknown, many of the Fae lose hope, and abandon the Steppes, bound for Galadriel. It is said that only a few brave souls remain to defend the Fae capital of Evindim, and the inner circle of Ioron have become jaded and scornful, casting venemous eyes on their kindred and peoples of the Light for their lack of aid.

In Goi'Orka a ball is held in honour of King Oruk's victory over the Yroh Orcs of the Wilds. King Oruk is not present, however, having marched east with nary a rest to be had. Rumours abound that the Orc king looks to expand his borders, capitalizing on the Highathar Succession War, setting his sights on Deagrin holdings weakened by the war. This news breaks as renewed calls for aid are sent out from Kogansunan, who suffer from a second siege from the Black Orcs that vexed them last year. A series of advances from the Mahakams of Mount Carbon, however, impede any attempts at aid.

The increased hostilities and the escalation from a succession crisis to outright war has earned caution from the Elves of Galadriel. Queen Nienna, fearing a spill out of war into her kingdom, dispatches her army to her western borders, keeping a firm watch on the roads and passes into Highathar, ensuring no encroachment of hostile armies into the kingdom. Meanwhile, the Green Chasm enters into a formal alliance with the petty kingdom of Thaanos, entering into trade and assurance of mutual defense, further defending the Elven realms from Dwarven incursions.

The War in Norseland is at a standstill, it is said, as Norvergr halts their advance upon the Frostfang, training their army and consolidating their power. It is rumoured that the lingering winter further hampers them, while others wonder if they don't have other purposes in mind. In Stronghelm King Bethod the Bloodless is largely believed to be dead, the search for his waylaid party called off weeks ago. His thanes feud over what's left of the petty kingdom and Ethelbor breaks free from its influence once more.

In Ecclestius, King Varian Krestarii hosts a ceremony in Azeratii honouring noble officials who have exhibited exemplary service to the king. The posh ceremony is unparalleled in its majesty and many titles and boons are imparted on loyal nobles, cementing the monarchs rule over his loyal base.

The Assembly of Kalar is said to be in turmoil following First Citizen Tyrett Pycelle's concession to liberal factions in the assembly to seize control of western mines west of the city, which have long been held by the city's nobility. The measure comes as the economy of the city declines following a trade deal with Azeratii. Noble factions in the assembly have called for a Pycelle's resignation and for a new leader to be sworn in. As of yet Pycelle has managed to hold on to power, but for how long remains to be seen.

 

[aedan777]

To the Lords of Hroniden who enter the Vahamil Stepee,

Your sudden and unannounced entrance to the steppe with such a host is most troubling to the Birchian State. Previously I have communicated with each of you individually, expressing the stance of the Birchian State on the matter of the Steppe Elves, and the lack of hostile intentions we hold towards Hroniden and its people. It was seen as most regrettable that the responses to our attempts at diplomacy were met with at best curt replies, and at worst total silence. With the march of your host upon the steppes, there are many within the Birchian State who see this as a message by Hroniden that the Birchian State is to be destroyed, but surely such a destructive action would be to neither of our benefits. We have not shed the blood of a single man of Hroniden during this most recent campaign, merely seeking to enact justice against unruly Elves who began the conflict with unprovoked attacks against emissaries of the Birchian State.

I implore you, before committing yourself to a path of needless bloodshed and violence, heed our efforts to seek peaceful coexistence between the realms of Hroniden and the Birchian State. I have heard rumours that the chief paladin is the one who gathered you together for your temporary unity and entrance to the steppe. If this be so, I warn you that he is nothing more than a self-serving machine of lies and disruption. Paladins of the Light Basin have launched unrestrained attacks against the supply lines of our forces for the duration of the campaign in the steppes without any cause or justification, yet we have refrained from retribution because the Birchian State has no wish to fight another war with the East. We recognize the sanctity of the Light Basin, and have avoided bringing harm to it or its inhabitants. Perhaps the paladin has spun tales that if the steppes were to fall, the Light Basin would be cut off and pilgrims barred from travel. I assure you, this could not be further from the truth. If anything the path to the Light Basin will be safer for pilgrims, with the removal of the xenophobic steppe elves. The Birchian State wishes for nothing more than peaceful coexistence with the men of the east.

Rather than becoming subservient to the machinations of a warmongering paladin, it would be to our mutual benefits to seek a diplomatic understanding through mutual communication. I must confess that I am making great assumptions about your intentions with the entrance of your armies onto the steppes, but I am left with little recourse when prior messages sent to you received little in the way of reply, and no attempt was made to contact the Birchian State by any of your excellencies before suddenly gathering a host in close proximity to our own forces.

I sincerely hope you make an effort to respond to my overtures this time, and we can avoid pointless bloodshed between our peoples. If we were to go to war the victory of either side is far from assured, the only certainty would be the deaths of thousands.

Stralmagistrate Jourdem Refiloj of the Birchian State, on behalf of the Arbiter and His Holiness

 

[baboushreturns]

The Bastards of Bathror​

Due to Goi'Orka's location and its proximity to the mountain homes of the Dwarven Kings the city has long been under a great amount of dwarven influence. Since the city's establishment dwarves have called the place home, originally drawn by the promise of work many thousands more have come to the Kingdom in the years since the orcs took over. The low taxes and lax regulation for which the place is known for is a far cry from the rigid and suffocating guilds which hold monopolies over many sectors of the dwarven economy. This economic freedom enticed many skilled artisans, smiths and merchants to come and settle down and has helped form the melting pot of races for which Goi'Orka is so well known.

Within the last several years another wave of dwarven immigration has hit the city. The majority of the people coming to settle are fleeing the ruin of Kogansunan but with them also comes the occasional exile or criminal. Dwarves who have fallen out with their families and risk for their lives in their home country. The most famous of these dwarves is known as Garin "the Bastard" Bathror. Garin born in Kogansunan nearly 54 years ago was an inhabitant of the city until he enlisted to join King Deagrin's army in the Great War. Following the death of his King, Garin deserted the army wandering around Highathar with a pack of other deserters and bandits for several months until the war ended. Six months later he settled down in Goi'Orka, a place that allowed him to stay in Highathar without having to face the justice of the Deagrins for his desertion. As the years went on he became involved in the slave trade and made quite a fortune off of it, rising into the ranks of the elite within the city. Today, Garin claims to be the son of Bathror Greybeard and although there is evidence that he was trained from a young age in the skills of war there is still almost no evidence to support this claim other than the fact that his mother was a whore working in a brothel frequented by Kogansunan's nobility more than half a century ago.

With the outbreak of war across the Mountain Kingdom and King Oruk's formation of a volunteer unit of dwarves to march under him, Garin was chosen as the man to lead them. Using his private connections and his money he managed to recruit 500 dwarves into the unit, these men were soon joined by a further 1,500 dwarves many of them exiles from Kogansunan driven by the dream of returning home but with even more volunteering in the pursuit of gold and plunder. This newly formed unit of dwarves soon named itself the Bastards of Bathror in acknowledgement of their Captain and marched forth to join King Oruk in his peace keeping mission.

By and large they form one of the best units in the army aside from Oruk's professional troops. The Bastard's of Bathror come armed with heavy axes and well made dwarven armor as well as crossbows and other weapons commonly used by their kin. In the first skirmishes with Bathror troops outside of the city the unit has proven its metal, ambushing several parties of Bathror troops and using their knowledge of the area to their advantage.

 

[BlackBishop]

The Iron Hall of Stronghelm

Bloody Bloodless
First Seed, 21st Year of the New Age​

The howl of wolves stirred Hilda from her sleep. With a start, the women sat up in bed, reaching for the empty spot behind her and recoiling as the memory of her missing husband hit her with a jolt. Bethod had been gone for nearly a year, which was not unusual. She had grown accustomed to his absence over the years. His numerous conquests and the Bloodrings had often compelled his absence. His absence now, however, was wholly different.

He had never returned from his campaign, assumed lost in the passes of the Vale. Now, with winter lingering, he is thought to be dead. She told herself she would not lose hope, that her beloved would return to her. Yet on these dark and lonely nights hope faded into the darkness, and her solidarity is all that's left. Forgoing sleep, she tosses aside the fur covers, and drapes a linen gown over her frame, striding to the shuttered window.

Opening the shutter, a brisk wind blows into the bedchamber, along with the shrill howl of a wolf. Her heart freezes, and she draws her cloak closer to her neck. Looking down over the castle grounds she sees a commotion in the courtyard. Men hollered and quarreled. A common sight in Stronghelm with Bethod gone, and his once loyal thanes fighting over the kingdom. The night usually brought peace, but even now her lonely hours were invaded by the infighting of the thanes.

A knock came upon her door, loud and insistent. Slowly Hilda walked over to the door, resting her hand on the heavy wooden door, she spoke out. "Who's there?"

"Orest, my Queen."

She gave a sigh of relief, lifting the door bar and unlatching the door. Orest was the only one of her husband's hirdmen who hadn't marched west to Ethelbor, and one of the few she could trust. "Orest," she questioned. "What brings you here at this hour?"

"Your presence is needed in the great hall," he said flatly, his eyes void of their usual warmth.

"For what purpose?"

"Now." He returned.

"I will get dressed and be down at once," she started shutting the door but the hirdman's foot struck out and stopped the door. "Orest, have you gone mad?!"

"Now," he repeated.

Hilda sneered. "So the thanes have got to you have they? Your oaths to my husband be damned?!"

With surprising strength, Orest heaved the door open, sending Hilda backward. Seizing her arm with an iron grip, he pulled her tight to him, and wrapped an arm around her hip like a vice and pulled her out the chamber. Cursing him, Hilda drew her hand back and slapped the man. Orest answered with a backhand that sent her reeling into the wall.

"This gives me no pleasure, my Queen," Orest said, gripping her body once more and leading her down a spiraling staircase. Hilda spat out blood. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, but she would give the traitor no such satisfaction. She remained silent. "This is about survival," Orest continued. "The king is dead. I wish it wasn't so, but that is the truth of it. What good am I to a dead man, I ask you? 'Lest I join him. I am better to serve the living."

"You are to serve me!" Hilda cried, relentlessly pushed down into the heart of the castle where her fate awaits.

"I... I am sorry, my Queen." With that, Orest shoved Hilda through a doorway into the great hall. It was a large chamber of high vaulting ceiling and a great fire pit that stretched the length of the room's center. In the days of Bethod it was a room of great cheer. Feasts were held here and the thanes drank together and lifted cups of mead in honour of their king. Now it was dark, the fire died down to smoldering embers and dark shadows clinging to the walls and corners.

A man emerged from the shadows, his amber eyes burning like coals as he approached Hilda. "Queen Hilda, it has been too long."

Hilda sneered. "Thorfast... I should have known. Have you no repect for the law? You are banished from the Iron Hall!" Thorfast was a jarl whose tower guarded one of the only fords across the Great Rhill leading to Stronghelm. He was a leading contender for Bethod's throne, and recognizing the threat, Hilda ordered him banished from the Iron Hall.

"The king's law, sure," he shrugged. "But the words of his tyrant bitch? Har! You should of known a decree from your lips is mere wind."

"I am the regent of Stronghelm until my husband's return!" Hilda drew herself up, trying to look dignified in her linen gown.

Thorfast shook his head. "You are delusional, Hilda. Cling to false hope all you like but Stronghelm will move forward. The time has come for a Kingsmoot. The Iron Hall will be yours no more."

"You traitor! When Bethod returns he will kill you where you stand!"

Thorfast levied a look of cool sympathy upon Hilda. "Your regency is at an end, Hilda. Face it, Bethod is dead."

Hilda was overcome with rage. Rushing toward Thorfast, she picked up a cleaver that rested upon a table, raising it up over her head with the intention of splitting his skull. Suddenly, all air left her lungs, she gasped and choked. Looking down, she saw a dagger pierce her chest. The traitorous eyes of Thorfast bored into her, the last thing she would see before darkness took her whole.

 

[baboushreturns]

To the Regents of House Bathror,

Spoiler

I have come here on a mission to keep the peace, my kin and your own people have been locked in an internal struggle and I hope that now you can see your cause is hopeless. I ask you, beseech you for the sake of your own people and loyal soldiers to surrender the city to my army. I promise not to loot the city, wantonly slaughter its inhabitants and furthermore I can promise free passage to all dwarven soldiers into the lands of the Deagrin's so long as they leave unarmed. Lastly I guarantee you the lives of and safety of all members of House Bathror but cannot guarantee their independence. I come not to take the city but to restore peace to it, to reestablish order so that Kogansunan once so mighty in her glory can be restored.

My Regards,

King Oruk I, Lord of Goi'Orka and Conqueror of the Wilds

 

[BlackBishop]

Spoiler: GM Note

Rather then deducting taxes and levies to reflect the hardship of winter/dry season, your stats will now remain in tact over these turns. Instead tithes will be rewarded to each faction during their respective harvest turn. This is far easier for Tapp and I to track, rather then having to fiddle with stats every few turns. Tithes are a tax levied against farmers where the lord takes a percentage of revenue from the sale of grain. Generally one tenth of annual produce is paid to the realm's lord.

Those players who have lands more suited for farming can expect to receive more. Aside from Hroniden, whom harvest crops in the spring near the end of their rain season, the rest of the realms will earn tithes in the autumn. During years of irregular weather, such as a long winter as eluded to in the update above, can expect lighter tithes, and in plentiful years, a larger one. A typical tithe is around 3k gold, which will be more or less depending on your location.

 

[Terraferma]

To First Citizen Tyrett Pycelle of the Republic of Kalar


Hail elected Lord Pycelle, I hope this message finds you well and in good health. The Emirate of Shiek as you know is a reclusive place. We rarely trade with anyone outside our neighbors, which to some is a miracle in it of itself, and the relative few outsiders that exhibit their wares are carefully vetted making such economic opportunities difficult, to say the least. In recent years the Emirate began trade with others such as Herasnia and Damasiz and I wish to inform you, joyously, that after careful consideration I would like to open Shiek's ports and markets to you. This is an unprecedented move on our part, but with the power vested in me I would like your Republic to be the first, if possibly only, outsider to bring its merchants to our ports in force. I would like to invite you to the Palace of the Just to further discuss this potential deal, if you would so humbly grant me an audience.

~ Hasam Khanduras Sabir, Padishah of the Emirate of Shiek
​

 

[Sneakyflaps]

And The Norse Shall Tremble
(Joint IC with Pluto)​

”I hope that Your Majesty will listen to us.” Rodney said as he stood with his hands behind his back. The council meeting had gone against him and as often when that was the case, his mood had deteriorated, even if he kept a smile which Varian knew was less than sincere. But now as always, Rodney wanted a different ways, despite it all he was a man of peace, seeing the loss of Ecclestian soldiers as a waste. He was someone who did not think that anywhere but Ecclestius could be as green, as rich and as virtuous. Though for all Rodney’s faults, Varian did love him, even if they had clashed often on matters of war. “There may be a way to achieve our goal without giving battle, without resorting to bloodshed.”

However the king sighed as the bottoms and lace to his white trousers with woven gold was tied. “Achieve our goal? With no battle, no glory, no honour, no conquest? What is this my Lord, have you found sorcerer tricks?” Varian said as he took the linen shirt from the groom and placing it over his head, allowing it to fall down as he bound the various laces before tucking it into his pants. River’s just smiled as he opened his mouth.

“Your Majesty should listen to his council.” Making Varian return with an annoyed voice.

“Do I not always?” The King asked as he rolled his eyes, cutting off Rivers before he even began to speak, “Just because your council does not carry the day does not mean it falls on deaf ears or that I ignore your advice, do not make the mistake to presume as such.”

“Forgive him, your Majesty.” Rodney replied as Varian pushed his shoulders back and the white fabric of the doublet, one of the finer pieces of the regalia, beautifully adorned with symbols woven in golden threads, glittering in the light, and providing a different colour scheme than his older coronation regalia. Despite Varian’s attention on his attire, Rodney continued his speech “However we may be able to conquer Stronghelm without shedding any blood at all. Is the conquer who by his mere presence bring the enemy to heel, not mightier than the one who brings it at sword.” Varian look at his minister and then sighed.

“You are really trying, very well, let me hear it.” The king said as Thomas offered him a smile as he began to button his doublet.

“They are weak, their Jarl is dead, their armies are devastated. Let us negotiate with them before we go to battle, let us offer them peace under your rule, prosperity, let us bind them with us, or at least attempt to before we send our armies to fight in battles which could claim the lives of thousands.” Rodney explained, with Varian weighing it back and forth in his mind as the grooms brought in the mantle, while Thomas was tying a belt around Varian’s waist, attaching a dagger with a golden hilt at the side as the King frowned.

“You disappoint me.” Varian said as Rodney raised an eyebrow .

“Your Majesty?” Rodney asked.

“You the most, Rodney, you were my tutor, you should know me better.” The King said as his frown depended. “Of course I will talk to them first, do you think I’m an idiot?” Varian asked as looked at the both of them standing there, interrupting Rodney before he could even finish the first word. “Get out, both of you.” Making them bow and the King sigh as they had left while the grooms adorned the king with the rest of the regalia for the coming ceremony.

The ceremony itself went well, great displays of wealth and power, of prestige and dignity as the court had attended to view the lucky few who had been rewarded offices as Varian overlooked the court. The lucky few themselves using this chance to gain prominence and presence in court as the new rising stars, all but one, all but Rodney. He had been worried for some time now, concerned over the growing power of Clare’s faction, not that Varian minded it much, it only made Rodney work all the harder. Sadly it also meant that Rodney did not always think as clearly, something which Varian needed to address upon his return. But with any luck, Rodney’s position as head of the royal council in Varian’s absence would calm his nerves.

At that thought, Varian was brought back to the present as the groom untied the mantle and almost letting it fall to the floor. The groom barely caught it, knowing that he messed up and worse yet it was one of the young grooms. Thomas had barely hired him a week ago, he looked no older than fifteen. He was the son of some prominent knight who had once served Varian’s father, or so Thomas had said, or at least Varian think that Thomas had said that, although the young groom’s name escaped the king as everyone looked upon the groom before a voice from the doorway called. “Your majesty really is too kind,” Valria said with a laugh, getting his attention, Valria herself having been given grants of land during the ceremony.

Varian looked up at her as the groom removed the mantle, placing it on a small table next to the crown before carrying it off as another groom began untying his doublet. “I often think so myself. I simply cannot rid myself of this burden.” He said with a smirk.

Valria rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Where exactly is Indara?” She asked curiously as she crossed the room to stand next to him.

“East of the Sunrise Sea, south of Wallachia among the great fields of Varanu.” He said as he looked at her with a smile while the groom kept untying button after button. “You can have farms for wheat, livestock, I even believe there is a bit of wine, not to mention some peasants to work for you.”

“It sounds lovely,” she said as she made her way over to one of the sofas and sat herself down. “Though I don’t know when I’ll get to leave Azeratii long enough to see it.”

Varian pulled his arms back as the groom removed the doublet while another came with a new set of clothes for Varian as the King undid his belt and removed his pants, getting handed a new pair which he put on. “Would you prefer something closer?”

Laying back, Valria laughed and shook her head. “No, it is nice to have a place that I can escape to should I need to. I’ll just have to make sure they send some of the wine to Azeratii.”

Varian laughed as he strapped his belt before waving the grooms off, standing in his loose shirt as the grooms hang the clothes and doublet waiting for the King to summon them again. “There is no escape.” He said with a smirk, “I do think you will like it, it's peaceful and quiet, a nice retreat should you wish it. You might even be able to produce some proper wine there.” He went over, taking out two glasses and filled them with wine, handing one to her. “Think you will be able to entertain yourself while I am gone?”

She took the glass, shifting to make some room on the sofa, though not sitting up. “I still don’t understand why you feel the need to march north with the army at all. What is the point of having commanders if they cannot command without you?”

He sat down at the end of the sofa, sipping some of the wine as he looked towards her, “It is also my duty to lead my soldiers, my subjects, in war.” He smiled happily at the thought of riding at head of an army “To write our name into history and glorify ourselves, to bring greatness to my Kingdom. In this I trust my commanders to advise me properly.”

Valria rolled her eyes once again. “You’ll find glory and greatness in Norseland?” She asked sardonically. “When is the last time you’ve even fought Varian?”

“They are great warriors.” Varian responded as he took another sip, sitting back and relaxing on the couch, “Eight years ago or there about, the rebellion against my father where I led the siege against Three Rivers.”

“A long time to grow soft your majesty,” she said, poking at him with her feet.

He took a hold of her foot, tickling it “Grown soft have I?” He asked, “I am made of steel.”

Valria could not keep from laughing, pulling her feet away from him. “Of course you are your majesty. What was I thinking.”

“Treason and offense slips into your mind.” He said in jest as he took another sip, “Besides, I hope to bring them to heel without the need of war. We need Stronghelm.” That castle would be able to hold the North at bay, and perhaps down the line even grant more land. Varian wanted to outshine one of his old heroes, one of those he admired growing up, Alexander, The Bane of Azgur.

“And you think the Norse will simply give it to you then?” She asked as she drank her wine. “You surely will need to pick up a sword again.”

“Maybe.” Varian responded, “Stronghelm is weak, their greatest warriors are dead, their people have died in war, their fleet destroyed. Their Jarl has gone missing. They might, if I give them the land they dispute along the border. Give them what they want.” He said as he ran his hand over her lower leg. Not to mention it would restore the legacy of the Ecclestian army following Fratil and house Krestarii’s international image.

“Maybe,” Valria said plainly. “I suppose that seems hardly worth the effort though.”

Varian took a hold of her foot, running two fingers over it “Imagine this as the Rill.” He said as he moved his fingers up over her dress “leading all the way up to the source,” He stopped a bit further up, “The source which gives life to all its people.” Varian climbed over her, going further up over her heart, “And this is Stronghelm, what protects and gives life to rest of the River. And a beautiful center of trade and wealth.” he said placing a kiss before looking at her. “Through here comes the life and trade of the North, travelling all the way down.” He said as he ran his hand down over her stomach.

Valria giggled happily. “You may paint Stronghelm in too grand a light, but I think I see it now.”

“I think you may undervalue.” He said with a smile. “But most importantly, it's a large castle built into a mountain. It overlooks the entire valley and stops any would be army from going south, taking that castle will prevent the norse from attacking into Saxon.”

She nodded in understanding. “If it is so great a fortress how to do plan to capture it if they won’t just surrender?”

“Because I take what I want.” He said with a smirk, “Winter is harsh in the north, they lack food and supplies, they lack grace and will welcome our presence.”

“I see,” Valria replied, evidently amused. “In that case I must ask you to hurry back.”

“Why is that?” He asked, curious as to the rush.

“I do not want you spending too much time among their ‘welcome presence’, while I sit at court and wait for something exciting to happen.” She said with an exaggerated sigh.

“But how could I hurry, they have such proud warriors, strong shieldmaidens.” He leaned closer and whispered, “The most beautiful shieldmaidens I am told. How could I possibly rush home?” He asked as he teased her.

“Perhaps their lack of baths would help to persuade you,” Valria said somewhat venomously. “They are a crude people. Besides, who is to say what I might find myself involved in while you are away.”

“Then I shall simply wash them.” He said as he continued as to smirk, “And what may you involve yourself in? gambling?” He asked almost innocently.

“Perhaps,” she said, crossing her arms, “or perhaps I will find someone that knows to wash without being told who could keep me company.”

Varian chuckled, looking into her eyes. “I know you wont.” Though Varian could not deny that he had enjoyed her reaction.

“Well then what am I supposed to do while you go off to conquer exotic foreign lands?” She pouted. “I cannot spend all my time at Linwë’s manor. Not to mention being at court with the queen if she returns before you.”

“I would hardly call Norseland exotic.” he said before leaning in whispering in her ear once more, “You could come, you would certainly be an exotic beauty up there. But could I allow that, for all the Nords to feast their eyes on you, could I trust you after those words you just spoke?” He asked, feigning doubt, “Even if I was to take you, how could I conduct a campaign if you were laying in bed behind me.”

“I would not need to stay in bed Varian,” She said, feigning hurt. “I’ve told you that I’m a rather impressive fencer, who’s to say that that would not have any value?”

“Value such as?” He asked, “Would you fence the Norse to death?” he teased, amused with the whole idea.

“Who’s to say I couldn’t?” She asked. “What do they fight with, sharpened sticks?”

“Axes, requiring both hands, or one in each, some even carry a shield.” he said to cause terror despite his light hearted voice.

Valria considered that for a time, before looking to him eagerly. “Then perhaps I could show you how to fight properly, since it has been so long since you’ve had to lift a sword for yourself.”

He chuckled, “I am not entirely without practice, but by all means.” He said.

“Wonderful!” She squealed excitedly. “When do we leave?”

“Morning, two days from now.” he said, although a bit confused by her happy response.

“I’ll need proper armor...and a decent sword...and clothing for travel,” She said, her brow crinkled as she thought of everything she would need.

He just looked dumbfounded, “what.” he just uttered quietly. “you want to go as a soldier?” Women had held officer roles, his mother had been one, but a soldier? What nonsense.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “How can I show you how to fight if I don’t have a proper sword? And what if our camp is attacked during the siege, I won’t be left defenseless.” She frowned at him. “Did you not mean I could come at your side?”

He let out a small surprised laugh, “I thought you would want to see the world, not fight.” he responded. “Do you truly wish to fight?” He asked sincerely.

“You told such tales of honor and glory,” Valria said hesitantly, a slight smirk on her lips. “I would join you in the fight if you'd have me.”

He sighed, looking down as he thought before his gaze moved up once more, “Don't ask what I would want here, do you wish to go with me then so be it, I will allow it and arrange for what you need. But I will not make the choice that might get you hurt or worse, that is yours to make.” He looked at her sincerely once more “But if you come, do not expect to command men or armies.”

“You would not give me command?” She asked, sounding shocked. “Then what is the point of this?” She shook her head, more seriously. “You make it sound like simple matter to take Stronghelm, I simply wish to be at your side.”

“Have you ever been to war before?” he asked, just looking at her if she had gone insane “Have you ever stood on a battlefield, commanded men, killed someone?!”

“Well, of course not,” She said slowly. “If someone meant to kill you or me I would be willing to though.”

He sighed and chuckled sweetly as he looked at her, “Then come, be at my side, be with me. But I cannot give you command over men before I know what you can handle, you have never been to war. I will not risk mens life in case you should freeze or be stuck with confusion on the field of battle. Prove yourself, like any other, and I will grant you a command.”

Valria laughed. “I had meant it as a joke Varian, I do not expect to command anyone.”

He laughed “Thats cruel.” and responded with a smile, “But do you wish to fight, to really fight?”

“Cruel?” She asked, rolling her eyes a little. “You were the one to imply that I would insist on a command to begin with. I will fight where you do, it is that simple.” And those words suddenly reminded him of Anne, and how she would have acted similar in such a situation if not for her duties and their children taking her elsewhere.

His smile just stayed “I did not expect your wish to fight either, thought I might as well jump ahead on the issue, I plead your forgiveness.” He kissed the back side of her hand, “But so be it, you will come and fight, just don't get hurt.”

“I’ll do my best then Varian, I promise. You know, I rather like not being hurt myself,” she answered with a laugh.

 

[Tapscott]

A missive arrives before Deagrin Victor under the High Mountain bearing the seal of the Royal House of Coamenel.

​

​

Deagrin Victor, High King of Highathar, Underking of the High Mountain, Lord of the Dwarven Clans of Highathar,

We have been informed by Our border guards that your vassals, the dwarves of Yurdaest, have began a campaign of raids against elven trade in the west. Surely you understand that this cannot be be allowed to continue, and if it should then it is Our duty to defend the property of the elven people, by whatever means that might acquire. We write to you in the hopes that your majesty will be restoring order to your realm in good order, and if you cannot that you will accept Our offer of aid in doing so. Long have the people of Highathar and Galadriel had an interest in the continued stability of each other's lands, and We hope to see this mutual interest continue.

May the Light watch over you,

Nienna Coamenel, Queen of the Elves, Lady of the Forest, and Lord of the Light.

​

​

((Just figured I apologize for the really late responses. I've been rather unwell for a while now, but shall try to become more active again!))

************************************************************************************************​

A ragged messenger arrives before Queen Nienna of Galadriel as her court holds session, and begs her indulgence. Clearly exhausted and poorly-garbed, the messenger relays that he had been captured by the warriors of Clan Mahakam. They had imprisoned him for a time before releasing him with a message to give to the Elven Queen, whilst still allowing him to deliver his original missive.

​

To Nienna Coamenel, Queen of the Elves, Lady of the Forest, and Lord of Light

Your words bring me sorrow and joy in equal measures Elf Queen. Sorrow for the wrongs afflicted onto you by my errant vassals of Yurdaest, and joy in the knowledge that this shall not come between us. I assure you that I am doing all in my power to try and bring this rebellion to a speedy resolution, but must confess that it seems a far hope at this point. With Orcish advances into my realm, the rebellion of the Yurdaesti Dwarves and the pretender Mahakam attempting to claim my throne, I am forced into a role far more defensive than I would wish.

I will focus efforts on trying to break Dàin Blacklocks rebellion but I beseech you to strengthen your defenses. His Clan is a cunning and tainted lot. They will not be put off easily.

Warm Regards

Deagrin Victor, High King of Highathar, Underking of the High Mountain, Lord of the Dwarven Clans of Highathar

************************************************************************************************

​

To Nienna Coamenel, Queen of the Elves, Lady of the Forest, Lord of Light, and Friend of the Mountainfolk

Let me offer my sincerest greetings to you, Queen Nienna, and first of all pledge my friendship to you and your kinsfolk. The Civil War that rages in Highathar has not seen its effects limited to within the mountains, and I know that you and yours have suffered more than most of the non-Dwarves. It is for this reason that I have written this missive, and make this offer.

The Dwarves of Yurdaest occupy an unfortunately difficult position for us all to deal with. Situated as they are in a highly defensible mountainhome, and their ranks filled with warriors hardened in battle and readied by their very culture for bloodshed, taking on this foe will be a bloody task. I, however, am confident that I can deal with the situation in short measure and have them cease all raiding into your lands. You may be wondering what I want, for surely I do not do this out of the kindness of my heart... And you would be right. I would help you, to help me, as the saying goes.

Acknowledge me as rightful ruler of Highathar. Help me end this bloodshed quickly and painlessly, stopping all this killing and forcing the intruders out of my kin's ancestral homes. The Deagrin boy, Victor, is young and untested. He should not have been made High King, especially not since his only claim is blood. Help us Queen Nienna, help us stop this violence! You have the power to end this, I beseech you to aid us.

Yours faithfully,

Yarpen Mahakam, High King of Highathar, Underking of Mt. Carbon, Lord of the Dwarven Clans of Highathar

 

[Tapscott]

To the Regents of House Bathror,

Spoiler

I have come here on a mission to keep the peace, my kin and your own people have been locked in an internal struggle and I hope that now you can see your cause is hopeless. I ask you, beseech you for the sake of your own people and loyal soldiers to surrender the city to my army. I promise not to loot the city, wantonly slaughter its inhabitants and furthermore I can promise free passage to all dwarven soldiers into the lands of the Deagrin's so long as they leave unarmed. Lastly I guarantee you the lives of and safety of all members of House Bathror but cannot guarantee their independence. I come not to take the city but to restore peace to it, to reestablish order so that Kogansunan once so mighty in her glory can be restored.

My Regards,

King Oruk I, Lord of Goi'Orka and Conqueror of the Wilds

To Oruk, Invader

Our answer is simple. No. This is our land, the land of the Dwarves. You think that simply because you say some pretty words we shall all fall to our knees and kiss your filthy feet? Kogansunan is a mountainhome, one of the greatest of the mountainhomes, and to have a Racy such as yourself claim overlordship through mere opportunism is intolerable. Maybe not next year. Maybe not the year after. But soon. Soon you shall be cast out, along with your kin, and glory will be restored here. Make no mistake, Racy, you do not belong here.

- Regents of House Bathror, Lords of Kogansunan

 

[DeMarchese]

The cold and sorrowful crypts of Evendim, silent testimony of the vahamil tragedy and only sign the elven people were once the inhabitants of the land​

And so the Prince returned from his perilous journey, having witnessed the greed of man and the scorn of the mountain-folk. Yet for all the courage, his prowess and his mighty feat, so worthy of its own legend and tales, it was a hollow victory the only companion for the Prince’s journey.

For the westerlings did not remain idle during his quest and laid waste to the kingdom in a great fire, burning with their dark adoration of false gods and prophets.

And the Great Treasure stood there, powerless and helpless in the hands of the Prince, nothing possible against the fury of Karmont.

It was this sentiment of helplessness, this futility what truly grew at the Prince’s heart like a void. All was for naught as he realized that nothing could be done to save his people.

As hope died in the eyes of those who sought guidance in his wisdom and protection under his banner, the Prince surrendered to that void and he became cold and disdainful of other peoples who were not from the Steppe.

“Many have been our hardships in the past, yet we prevailed” the Prince said “For our love of the Steppes began to turn the land into what we envisioned when we first sought to found a new home. The world is a vast place where all can live in peace if harmony is beyond the people of the land, because there will be always enough lands to share and be left to each one destiny. Yet the greed of man know no bounds and the madness of the lesser races pitch them against each other in pointless conflict, such are those shortcomings that those who seek only to isolate from their mundane affairs are constantly drawn into them… but we are victims of far monstrous crimes”

And the Prince wept over the corpses of those who died in his absence, each one of them a painful thorn nailed to his heart. Then he ordered crypts to be made to store the remains of his people in one last grand marvel of skilfulness and cleverness, emptying the mountain with hollow corridors.

Those who remained were gathered around the last Glawaron and there the Prince finally opened his heart, filled with the void that so much guilt and sorrow helped to spawn over the days.

“What of Her Gracious Majesty?” asked the Prince “What of Her blessed and true love for all elves, regardless of kingdoms and lands? It is true that we left our ancient homes but in doing so we never turned our back our heritage, nor we demanded a crown to rule ourselves” as he spoke, the helplessness and the guilt slowly turned to anger and resentment “Have we, per chance, offended Her Royal Radiance so deeply that she refuses to even send heralds to those seeking harm for elvenkind? Queen Nienna, the ruler who lay in her golden bed, consorting with the men of Ecclestius while the kingdom drifts into chaos and her people are left to the wolves when they venture beyond the forests of ancient Galadriel. Oh! How concerned she is for her wayward offspring, but... are we not all children of Galadriel?” the Prince lamented.


And so the Prince cursed the race of men and Queen Nienna, swearing to enact terrible vengeance upon those who brought ruin to his people, let it be by action or inaction. Much he pondered how things will be now if Revered Jacob the Hero were alive instead of Nienna. His words were like poison spilling out from a chalice, so full of painful sorrow now transformed into hate and scornful envy.

He renounced to any claims of land and titles, leaving his silver tiara upon the marble stairs.

“For whenever I go now, there is no return. Alas hope shall remain for those whose love of these lands is greater than the false promises of the crown. I may leave now, never to see again the mortal world but in my stead a great and terrible power shall be awaken and that power will bring ruin to our enemies and return the land to our people”

So the Fair Prince departed Vahamil, with the Great Treasure always on his hands. And a great shadow was cast upon all Evendim, now a crypt as well as a monument to the sorrow of this silent and great tragedy.

-extract from the ruined pages of the chronicles "The Tragic Prince", the only record of what befell to the last fae on the Steppes.​

 

[baboushreturns]

To, Dàin Blacklocks, High King of Yurdaest, Defender of the Inner Mountains

I am pleased that you did not go through with your raid, I do not know if it was the gods or further council that stayed your hand but whatever it was you made the right choice. I would like to take a further step in cementing our alliance and ensuring the protection of our shared interests here in Highathar. To this end I propose my vassal lord Gait Bathror, Underking of Kogansunan be married to a female member of your house so that the friendship and kinship that currently exists between our peoples may stretch on for many generations more. I would also like to inquire if the dwarves of Yurdaest might be interested in adopting laws that would allow for indentured servitude to take place within the walls of your city. With the war on, having some system in place to sell prisoners would be a great boon, not only to your economy but to my economy as well. I hope you'll consider my words. May the Gods of War be on your side.

-King Oruk I, Lord of Goi'Orka and Conqueror of the Wilds

 

[Dadarian]

​

Mo'yokj Gro'ijk rolled his eyes. Toosh aa Halla was about as dry as the soil of the south, and twice as ornery. Having maintained the pretense of interest for over three hours, Mo'yokj snapped at the tall, wizened tree.

"Listen you overgrowth bitterroot, I have had enough. You have told me thrice of the longhairs that dropped a torch at your base and nearly cooked you. THRICE. The inept dealings of tallywhackers isn't my problem. By the Mace of Mo, where is a good place for stone?"

Mo'yokj nearly jumped out of his skin when a very usable, oddly insulting, but still usable map grew out of one of the birch's bark like a length of parchment. In between not-as-funny-as-you-think insults, Mo'yokj picked out nearly a dozen sites of interest.

"Mo'lagalag Brog'ijk, move your troop, we meet to see what we must!"

 

[Sneakyflaps]

A Shrinking Family
(Joint IC with Greatslayer)​

Spring was in bloom across Agorath, even if the weather was colder as it often was along the northern borders of the Rill. Varian’s army was camped along the border, the King having sent emissaries north to Stronghelm in preparations for the Kingsmoot in what some would call forceful negotiations. Though on a much more personal note, Varian had sent a message to his aunt with whom he had always had a troubled relationship with. Informing her his wish to meet her, to discuss matters of family, as well as the young Prince of Galadriel.
The army itself was of relatively medium size compared to back during the dark wars, but that also made it easy to supply, certainly as long as the Rill provided passage. The snow had been cleared around the camp as best it could, along with wooden barricades that had been set up to defend against a possible attack from the Norse. The soldiers themselves gathered around fires to cook their food and gather warmth.

To have Evhana arrive so far from her homestead had been a surprisingly easy task. Bar requiring the company of a few dozen escorts into the camp, she had offered great trust in Varian to keep diplomatic immunity during the meeting. Perhaps a sign of a family member still trusting her nephew? As the row of Elf warriors flanked their princess into the camp, they stood at attention with their faces aimed outwards. Beneath the falling snow strided Evhana, as usual much more adorned than her sister. She wore a thick fur coat to withstand the season, and her face was clad with a bright and warm smile.

“Your grace…” She uttered, as she approached the king’s tent.

And as she called Varian exited his tent, looking at her and her entourage approaching as two of his own royal guards stood at the entrance to the tent. He always had mixed feelings about the Galadriel royal guard, most of it stemming from his young childhood when they were in Azeratii. The masks they wore had always put him at unease as a child, their faces carved into the wooden masks, removing any emotion from their faces. Grace, Varian thought, eventually he would make one in his family address him properly, but that was for another time, now however he smiled at his aunt. “Your Highness, I'm happy you would travel all this way.”

“It was no trouble, I can assure you. I quite fancy the cool air and this lifeless…” She tapped the ground with her delicate shoes, only for they to be buried in the snow. “...rock. I can’t imagine what your army would be doing here. Did you take a wrong turn by Saxon, a simple miss of a few hundred leagues?” She said, looking around.

He chuckled, at least his aunt seemed in good spirit. “I admit it's not the best weather up here, but there is a large warm castle a few more leagues to our north where I plan to have us make summer camp.” He responded, “Please.” He said motioning for the tent and going inside. She nodded, and as she stepped forward, her guard lunged their long spears into the ground, and took a more relaxed stand at ease. Evhana let herself into the tent and immediately proceeded with untying her fur coat.

“Heavy it is. Pulled by another weight of snow upon my shoulders. Accursed land is what it is.” She looked around for something edible. “I’ve yet to supper, Varian. I hope you brought something to sate my carnivorous needs.”

The King nodded to a servant. “I see neither your Prince or Queen has conformed you to their ways of vegetable.” he said with a laugh, “Good, nothing ruins a good dish like a salat. Find yourself comfortable.” He said. The tent was large and warm, a few different tables, one clearly for work and in the back was Varian’s bed. Fires and candles kept the tent warm, allowing the king to rid himself of heavy furs, even if the snow raged outside. “Wine?” Varian offered only for her to shake her head.

“Water, if you have it.” She said, as she took a bowl of mixed meats from the servant, immediately placing one upon her tongue and chewed with much content. “I must admit, I am a hard person to surprise, but this invitation I couldn’t possibly have foreseen. I had your letter and courier checked threefold before agreeing to its legitimacy.” She smiled, with a hint of mystery in her young looking eyes. “But what for, I wonder? Am I to be banished again?”

“Wouldn't it be dull to repeat the same old patterns?” He responded with a smile before it faded, speaking sincerely. “No, I am sorry for that.” Evhana stared at the servants, and then at Varian, making him nod them off. As she watched the servants leave behind the tent flaps her smile was but a memory. She tilted her head on the side, and leaned down into the divan while gnawing at the meaty treats.

“Speak.” She said curtly, lingering on the s like the hiss of a snake. “Why am I here?”

He squinted his eyes slightly, taking by surprise at her change as he sat back in the chair. A display for servants he wondered. “I want, no I need your help dealing with our family.” Her dour expression was adorned with a raised eyebrow.

“Now there’s at least a comment that bring me no surprise whatsoever. Why call upon me for that? I was under the impression you had neither trust or any kind of fondness for your dear aunt.”

“And have you had that for me for the last many years?” He just asked before he sighed, “Because I cannot do this on my own and I know not who else to turn to.” Evhana scoffed as she downed another slice of meat.

“I’ve always treated you like family, and provided the services as one of our own. When your mother was leading armies, I was tasked with leading you in my arms. My fondness was not in question…” She aimed a finger at him. “...till you insulted my dead son. Why would I do a favour to you now after such a disgraceful tact?”

“The Orc’s son?” He just said with a slight frown, Varian was well aware how he was addressed in her home, and how his sisters’ were not. Making Varian think that being treated as family must be the most hollow in the world, or more likely a lie for the sake of his mother. “I never wished for what happened to Elu, I meant no insult on to him or you with my words, and I was surprised when you took it as such, as it was not my intend. But I ask you to do it for the sake of your sister, your nieces and your Crown Prince.” He for certain would not apologize for an insult never given. She resumed her warm smile, as from nowhere it came upon her lips. Perhaps it was him she toyed with, not the servants, and not much to his liking.

“Heartwarming…” She rinsed her teeth, unglamorous, with a fingernail. “Was this realisation recent? A mother does not easily forget her child, as it is.” She rose up into the divan, now instead leaning her back on it, more graciously with her hands in her lap, quietly trying to assess Varian from the other side of the room. “Tell me, what has become of my family? Enlighten me.”

“Mother misses it.” He said short, just staring towards the flaps of the tent “Every thrust into an already helpless body on the ground. As she rendered their flesh as the Creator’s grace leak from the corpses. Missing the rush of gorging on their blood, while she sank her teeth into their skin, licking it through the gaping wounds upon their neck. Setting them all ablaze as she saw the life fade from their eyes. She doesn't miss fighting, not killing. My mother misses slaughtering… people.” He remembered all the words, still shocked by it as he turned his gaze towards her with a true worry in his eyes, “Did she use to drink heavily, with barely any control or will to restrain? Was she better when she visited you?” Evhana didn’t flinch as he read his mother’s words from his memory. Her frown persisted as she looked back at him with a calm expression radiating from her deep blue eyes.

“Perhaps it is time I’d let you know, I was not overly fond of your father.” She smacked her lips, curtly. “Not much at all.”

“I know.” he responded, “I know neither of you had many kind words to share.”

“I wished not bring it up before, as I didn’t find it proper to berate a child’s parent. I still do not.” She leaned forward in the divan, and picked at another slice of meat. “Your mother has always been haunted by a fragile psych. At fifteen years of age she was locked up by her own vassals, and her fate was decided by bickering men who’d sooner use her body for ambition. It’s a woman’s curse, no doubt. As unfair as it seems, it is the nature of things.” Evhana adjusted her dress, standing up and started walking closer to the curtains, as to ensure no one was eavesdropping. “At such a young age, anyone would be impressionable. Imagine then a girl, just receiving the duties of a duchy, and the command of armies to liberate her kinsmen, just after her father had tragically died. Meanwhile, everyone around her kept dying, one after one. One father figure replaced by another, only to fall victim to plots, schemes, betrayals or simply fallen in glorious battle. Wrothiron, Alvon, Qylan, Armas, Alfödr, none would stay any long peace.” She glared back at Varian, her eyes fixed with a burning rage. “And then the ambitious rat of your father waltzes in to abuse all the trust she had gained, making his way to the throne of a kingdom he didn’t even own, or had any claim for. He used my sister to that end, for which I will never forgive him.” She moved over to the brazier, playing with the flames at the motion of her fingers, them seemingly receding from her mere willpower. The fragments of Barumin’s bane still lingered in her Mindrilla blood. “Your mother felt betrayed, put aside, shoved out of his life and heart when she had dared offering hers on a silver platter for him to hold. The remnants of all those tragedies all came crashing down at once.” Evhana nodded towards the pitcher of wine, standing next to Varian. “Till she found solace in the bottom of the flagon, to dull her mind and escape her new nightmare. By the laws of custody, I was deemed your ward in her absence. I believe many a noble still speak of the days when the wicked sister stole the kingdom’s heir.” She sighed. “I did it for your mother. And for you. I felt the harm he’d done my sister, and I wouldn’t risk it upon an innocent toddler such as yourself. Before she never drank, but she was most definitely still full of sorrow. I imagine that in battle, at least there she was in control, indisputably so. She was a firm commander, and a dangerous opponent on the battlefield. So dangerous, my agents were at constant odds to thwart enemy spies and assassins to approach the queen of Ecclestius, as she led armies from west, south, north and east.” She pointed at Varian, meaningfully. “She did not like it. She hated it. The fact she was so good at it, while I’ve had no qualms with it. I see the means to justify the results, while she see the means as what values your results. She’s the purest spawn of the Light One’s creation, as even hunting gave her nightmares as a child, an act so natural to any Deep Elf it’s considered a blessing to the animal itself. But killing men?” Evhana scoffed. “Even men that deserved it plenty? That haunted her more than a hot spear or a pair of chains could ever hope to accomplish.”

He chuckled, a sadness in it, mixed with a very wide array of emotions as he listened to his aunt. The words about his mother left sadness, the unhappiness she had lived with, his own action and lack of care by no means helping her, making him swallow hard as he thought about it. But Evhana’s words of his father filled him not only with sadness but also with something else, something he couldn't quite say. Some was surprise at his father’s restraint, for no such custody law would be in Ecclestius then or now, certainly Varian would never accept anyone keeping him from Ares.
The King could not help but wonder, if it actually had been for him or to spite his father that his aunt had taken him. While she berated him for speaking ill of the dead, she took no second thought to do so herself as it did not concern her son, but now Varian’s father. Was their hated the reason for her scorn and disdain for Varian himself. The Orc’s son, was that why? he had never been Eylinn’s true son, not by blood, was that too much for Evhana? For her to allow her sons to call him as such, in disdain, to speak with his father’s fault to Linwë to hurt Varian, to take insult at insults never given. Perhaps this was the reason that his aunt had been as she had, gone against him rather than to him. “I see.” Varian said as he looked at his aunt, “Will she get better?” He asked, expecting a sorrow reply as that seemed to be the grip that was placed upon his family, and a curse upon the Ecclestian royalty. Evhana shrugged.

“Does it matter?” She looked over the tent and valued its rich ornate features. “She’s been unhappy since ascending the Chasm’s throne. Perhaps as far back as your grandmother’s death.”

“Maybe not to you.” He knew it was spiteful, and that he should not have said it, but her comment had hurt him all the same. For all his aunt and father’s hatred, disputes and disagreements, that was by far too much, Eylinn was still his mother, even if Evhana did not consider him family. And the comment made her bar her teeth.

“Careful… Remember who is asking who of a favour here. And after your actions, be glad I even bothered the long travel.”

“If you consider caring for my mother a favour, so be it.” He just said, “The other matter is of more concern to you than to me, or to your Queen I should say. So will you? Look after my mother that is, I don't want her to be left alone, not after how she acted.” The previous speck of anger was drained from her face, and instead it turned eerily dead of emotion. Once more changing appearance, by now angering Varian. She cared not, that was clear, she changed appearance for what he could assume was her toying with him. Her lazy gaze lingered upon Varian, as she crossed her arms over her waist.

“I’ve cared for Eylinn for over twenty years, whenever she needed it. You think I’d just stop?” She leaned slightly forward. “You’re the one that brought her to the brink again. Not I. If this is not a favour, then what is it?”

He ignored her words “How many spies, agents so on do you have following my sisters? How many ready to spring in if something was to happen?” Her face remained dead-pan.

“I hardly see this to be any of your concern, the matters of my realm or its resources, and furthermore, how they are spent?”

“They are my concern as they are my sisters.” Varian said as he sighed, “The three of them have traveled to Hroniden without as far as I know, without any sizeable retinue from Galadriel.”

“Sounds wise.” She said matter-of-factly, as if she was somehow right. “A large retinue would be sure to gain unwanted attention from all the wrong kinds of people.”

“You know why they traveled there?” he just asked, somewhat confused as how she would think it wise.

“Varian, remind me. Why would I entrust any information regarding my family, or to that of the Galadrien royal family, to you?” Her face was impossible to read, moving not a single inch but for her lips. No change in coloration, no change in posture, no change in stance. Even more enigmatic than her perpetual smile.

And there it was, for all her words, they were not and had not been family. “Because they are my family as much as yours.” He sighed, for all her words, they were still his sisters. “Tell me Evhana, did either of my sisters, Armas or any of your spies tell you that they are traveling there after both Narien and Anwën received a vision that Anwën was in grave danger?” She shook her head.

“You don’t banish your family, Varian. You banish your enemies.” She squinted her eyes. “You banished me also. Am I your enemy?”

So her spies had not. “I take it no one has informed you that they received that vision mere hours after using a seeing stone, one they had been using while Narien was in Ordivantees to talk with one another. Or am I to get another lecture?” he just asked. Evhana however remained unflinching.

“Avoiding the question are we?” She said with a low voice. “I don’t lecture kings. I hold them accountable to their actions. I don’t forgive the way my sister does. You only get one chance to keep my trust, Varian, and mine is depleted for you. So you will answer my question.” She leaned forward. “Am I your enemy?”

“For a long time I wondered the same, but no I think not, but you are certainly not my friend, or has been for many years.” He spoke truthfully, she had never been his friend, and now he could not help but wonder if the same was true for the others in the Galadrian court who he had considered friends. For if his aunt spoke with hidden daggers and foreign faces, would the rest as well? For all his own faults, at least he had always spoken open and plainly with Galadriel.

“Good. Then I know.” She studied him intently from top to bottom. “A pity. Rest assured that the crown prince couple is being properly looked after with every possible resources available. I don’t make a habit of important dignitaries dying under my supervision. It makes for a bad image.”

“Then I wish you a safe travel back to Galadriel.” She scoffed.

“This was a long travel for very dubious, irrelevant conversation. If you are that caring for your family, perhaps don’t whisk me away under pretense of importance when I could be executing my job to see them safe?”

“If you see neither the use of extra caution based on my sisters actions after sightings in a seeing stone, especially as it comes to your Kingdom’s future, or the welfare of my mother as important, I quite frankly care little for what you consider relevant or not.” Varian looked at her, “If you wish for spite, then I have more important matters.”

“I’ve cared for this family and its needs for longer than you’ve drawn breath, boy. Don’t patronize me, for it will only waste energy better used for staying seated.” She looked towards the fire of the brazier. “How often have they used the stones?”

“I do not know, I believe they used it several times, but at least once.” he looked at his aunt, “It took my father only once as well, he only touched it once for a few moments and he fell. Don't underestimate it.”

“And don’t overestimate a threat before you have its measurements. I wouldn’t call your father the best role model of integrity.” She said, calmly.

“Narien has spent the last half decade seeking her destiny, I fear not their integrity as much as someone playing on her desires.” He said as he looked at her, wondering if she didn't worry about it at all.

“It’s what I would had done.” She then retorted, drumming her fingers against a table. “Narien is by all means still lost on her trail towards a goal she’s yet to manifest within her inner eye. Neither princess, neither warrior, neither dutiful sibling. At some point, she has to fit at least one of those descriptions.”

“All the more foolish, someone who does not yet know themselves do not know their true strength and weakness, and to play with a thing like darkness, only jesters tempt such.” Evhana went across the floor, crossing her arms.

“Tell your cooks to dry the meat. Salting it so far north will invite rot and spoilage as the snow rinse the fibres.” She looked back at him. “Wouldn’t want your soldiers dying from disease, now would you?” And to think, an hour ago he would have given her son an army to reclaim his birthright, but now.
He had seen his aunt what, three times in twelve years, may it be even less in the coming twelve.

 

[BlackBishop]

Spoiler: GM Note

Just a reminder, submit long order if you haven't done so already. Update is already underway, with in-thread update likely to be completed this weekend.

 

[Endovelicus]

Honoring
the
Dishonored
​

It was an early morning, the sun could be seen rising slowly, reflecting its light blindingly from the snow. Leather gloves kept my hands rather warm, though I never felt cold in the first place. I drew the string from the bow, took a deep breath. The sound of the arrow filled the air, my hair chasing its vortex. It nearly hit the center, not a bad shot, though having been back home for a few months meant I did not have to hunt for my own food anymore, leaving my skills neglected.


Did my sister really change this much? It was only a few months ago she still seemed to despise me once I returned, now she was talking of peace and alliances. I remembered her as a stubborn cow. I looked at the mark again, three arrows stuck in the straw, time to collect them and try again. The noise of my feet moving through the fresh snow making that identic crackling sound. The arrows were buried quite deep into the straw target, if it were anything living it would surely have died. I walked back to the shooting line, still pondering if my sister had other plans, that would be my morning, till the festivities would start. My sister shortly mentioned we would have visitors, elven ones. I remember being rather fond of elves myself, they are also well known great archers, learning from an elven ranger one day would be nice.


The sun rose further and further, as people started slowly pouring into the castle walls, for once the gates were open the whole day around, an unusual sight as any other day of the year they would be shut and secured with tons of guards.


I started making my way to the main square of the city, as I also saw other local nobles converging there, as well as the sight of the six royal guards on both of the main stairs walking down from the castle, followed by my sister. I was there to meet with the nobles before my sister was down, there were a few faces I could remember, even after having been gone for two years. One man approached me, I estimated him to be at least five or six years older than me. ‘’How are you doing niece? We were worrying about you a lot, your mother showed her concern back at our home rather often.’’ It came to me that it was my nephew, Olaer of Splitwood, after his father died he inherited the town. My mother was his aunt, their family prospered and became closer and closer after my father had married my mother, luckily they were a loyal family.


‘’It’s going better nephew, trying to get accustomed to being back here again. It seems my sister arrived.’’ I smiled at him and started walking in the direction of my sister, who had just reached the bottom of the stairs. The other nobility looked toward her just as I moved over to her side. She looked at me and whispered. ‘’It is a great day, sister.’’ She smiled. ‘’Honoured guests, will you please follow us to the Amber Forest, we have things to discuss.’’ She nodded toward me gesturing me to follow her. The guards would line up behind us with the other minor nobility treading behind them. She started whispering again. ‘’I see great fortune in our future, my faith tells me it is so. I had to mislead Bynwyn from our actual plans…’’ So my sister had been acting? ‘’...thusly I will have to address my vassals today.’’


The Amber Forest was still radiant in its colour, even with so much snow, it was truly a sight to behold, on this day it was rather empty, except for our party that was.

Our group gathered in the middle of the forest, all the vassals in a half circle around us, carefully awaiting the next words my sister chose. ‘’I invited you here, to ask a simple question, troubling times are nearing us. Can I count on your loyalty if I call upon your men?’’ The men of the small houses of Splitwood, Daeril, Scaeti, af Kendire, af Taerg and Minuth looked at each other. Our nephew spoke up first. ‘’Aye, your majesty.’’ He nodded. This caused Ewynn Scaeti, Maike af Taerg and Lugae af Kendire to join after him. ‘’Aye, your majesty.’’ They nodded. Dendric Daeril and Quell Minuth kept quiet for but a moment till Dendric broke it. ‘’What may be ahead of us, your majesty?’’ ‘’War, words of it in the west, uncertainty in parts of Westmarch.’’ My sister had said, though Quell also decided to join in, with his old proud accent thundering his words. ‘’Nae offense, but ya are still a wean at heart, what dae ya ken about war?’’ I decided to take my part into the conversation, knowing how to sway to Quell’s feelings. ‘’Lord Minuth…’’ I cleared my throat, my sister looked at me with a bit of confusion. ‘’...we ‘ave recently learned the cost o’ war.’’ I quickly shared a look with my sister, then turned to Quell again, continuing in an attempted old Thaanosian accent. ‘’Our father had passed, ‘cause of the Westmarch Rebellions…’’ a silence followed. ‘’I apologize, I did’nae ken. We’ll ‘ave tae make ‘hose responsible pay miladies!’’ My sister looked at the old man. ‘’So that’s an aye, lord Minuth?’’ He guided his hand through his beard, pondering. ‘’Aye, ya can ‘ave ma men.’’ Dendric also seemed to reluctantly join in as he repeated Quell in a quiet tone.


My sister nodded, I joined in. ‘’I appreciate your loyalty, you may return to the festivities.’’ Dendric and Quell made off first, followed by everyone, except our nephew. ‘’Should I be worrying, your majesty?’’ I looked at my sister, Olaer was doing the same. ‘’No worries nephew, just make sure to prepare your men for when they are called upon, the Archbishop is telling me the Light smiles in our favour.’’ I was still so uncertain of my sister, one moment she speaks peace, the next war… my sister smiled. Olaer looked at me with concern striking his eyes. ‘’I will join the festivities now, your majesty.’’ He walked off, I looked at my sister once more, nodding in her direction and then following my nephew to the festivities.


‘’I do not know what is getting into her.’’ I told Olaer. ‘’I thought you were on the same page, you seemed so… how to say… supportive.’’ I pondered about it for a few moments. ‘’Something in me wants to support my sister… even with all she’s put me through.’’ I looked at the ground, I could see Olaer being slightly disappointed. ‘’I will support your family through everything, since we share blood, but for the same love of our families, I feel we should stay safe.’’ ‘’I agree nephew, we will be fine, don’t you worry about it.’’ I smiled at him in the hope he joined in, I was glad to see he did.


The ringing noise of steel against steel, as well as the sound of arrows and the bashing of wood. It could only be what I think it was, it had been years since I had seen it, but it was unmistakingly the sounds that could only come from the Trials. Tests of strength, accuracy, stamina to honour the ancestors, my father used to join in the skirmishes often getting to the finals, mostly winning as he smiled to us. Nowadays it was Maut that had won most skirmishes, he had towered over most of the competition however, he seemed to have unimaginable strength sometimes and he didn’t lack in mental capacity either, as commander under the Aingael banner for decades.


I remember always having been wanting to join in the archery competitions as well, however I had been too young before my exile, perhaps I could’ve joined for this year, the competitors didn’t seem too difficult to best. However there were a lot of new faces and quite a few of those with similar outfits, they also certainly did not look Thaanosian, which was even more intriguing to me.


‘’The winner of this round will be the next one to make it to the last round.’’ An announcer yelled. All the skirmishers had to do was draw first blood, whether it was a small wound or a big gash. ‘’Over here we have the title defender, our commander, Maut!’’ The people cheered, he was well respected by the Thaanosians for all his decades of service, to be honest his name probably did not need any announcing, perhaps it was just for dramatical value. ‘’On the opposite side, a newcomer to the ring and by the looks of it, this land.’’ The announcer showed a devilish smile. ‘’He is known as Guntar.’’ The crowd went rather quiet, some even booing, those who wore similar clothing as him abstained from reacting it seemed, odd figures. The announcer raised his Halberd, letting it linger in the air for a few moments, before he struck the ground, nodded and yelled. ‘’Ancestors be with you!’’ Maut, with his trusty Greatsword in hand made the first steps forward, as where Guntar only made sure he got out of the corner he started in, equipped with a buckler and shortsword. I could tell his focus was purely on his target, as if they were isolated from the rest of the world. Maut began his first swing, using his reach to his advantage, however Guntar showed himself to be very nimble, quick on his feet. As Maut’s second swing came around Guntar attempted his first attack onto Maut, by once again dodging his greatsword and using the time in between to get close, however Mauts reflexes were fast enough to pull back his greatsword and parry the strike with his shortsword. Gunter then tried to pummel him with the buckler, however the range at which Maut could keep him from meant Guntar could not even get close enough for pummeling to be viable. Maut put his right hand on the top half of his sword, holding the hilt with his left hand, pushing Guntar back a few feet. He quickly returned his hand to his hilt and swung again, this time Guntar could barely reflect it with his buckler, the sword hitting it at an angle just to glance off the metal. Guntar took a step forward, once again in an attempt to thrust his shortsword toward Maut however the distance was still too great, leaving enough time for Maut to once again swing back. This time Guntar blocking it with his shortsword and buckler combined, as it was an overhead swing.


‘’Maut, Maut, Maaaaaut!’’ The crowd chanted, with Maut putting his force down upon the sword in an attempt to exhaust Guntar’s block, who was still looking on with a concentrated gaze into Maut’s eyes. Maut kicked Guntar back, pulled up his sword with Guntar still walking back from the kick and swung once more, as did Guntar, the sound of steel hitting leather and grunting could be heard before the audience's screams engulfed those sounds completely. Guntar went down on his knees whereas Maut was breathing heavily, leaning on his sword. The announcer walked a circle around them, looking how they fared, Guntar first, he had a cut on his upper leg, the blood seeping into his white kilt, he was lucky enough the greatsword had only glanced on his skin. The announcer walked toward Maut as he was about to speak up, which then turned into a gasp as he saw blood dripping from Maut’s lower body, it seemed the Light one also smiled upon him with a insignificant cut. ‘’Both contestants have been injured!’’ This had been a rare occasion, it certainly had been a long time ago I had heard of this happening, however there would still be a winner, a winner decided by… ‘’Guntar…. is the victor!’’ There was a mix of booing and cheering in the crowd. A cut to the torso counted more than one to the upper leg. Maut stood up and reached out a hand to Guntar, pulling him up. Maut had a smile on his face, even after he lost, he was saying something to Guntar that even made him smile, however the noise of the crowd drowned it out. As the two walked together toward the building behind the proving grounds the crowds dispersed for now, as did I. It would be one of many events today, one of many.
​

 

[Plutonium95]

Missives bearing the Royal Seal of the House of Coamenel, carried by immaculate messengers are sent out from the Palace at Coal to all the lords of Highathar and King Oruk I.

In the name of the Light and the Creator.
Recognizing the deterioration of order within the lands of Highathar.
Aware of all animosity that may exist.
Eager to a bring an end to violence.
Hopeful that peace may reign once again.​

Queen of the Elves, Lady of the Forest, and Lord of the Light, Nienna Coamenel calls for the cessation of war within Highathar.
She calls for a congress, without arms or ill will, to be held in the halls of Mount Carbon to discuss the matter of peace.

******************************************************************************************
​

Additional letter are sent to specific lords.

************​

To Deagrin Victor of the High Mountain

These truly are the times which try our souls. News of King Oruk's advance into Kogansunan has cast a pall over all the people of Coal. To see your position so fragile wounds Us greatly, and it is a large part of why We call this congress. We neither wish to see it weakened further, nor do We wish to see the good people of High Mountain suffer in its defense. Your presence is crucial to the congress's success and the further success of our two peoples.

May the Light of the Creator guide you,

Nienna Coamenel, Queen of the Elves, Lady of the Forest, and Lord of the Light

************
​

To Yarpen Mahakam of Mt. Carbon,

​

Your friendship is well received by Us Mahakam, and it is why We seek to achieve peace within the walls of your home, should your majesty allow it. As your letter said, We feel it is Our duty to champion a 'quick and painless' end to this war, but with the encroachment of the Orcs into Highathar, such a resolution seems to be the stuff of dreams. Instead We hope to achieve a peace that all might live with, with guarantees in place for those who would not see their people maimed and killed in a fruitless war. Your support in this endeavor is invaluable in the eyes of Galadriel.

May the Light show you the path,

Nienna Coamenel, Queen of the Elves, Lady of the Forest, and Lord of the Light

************
​

To King Oruk of Goi'Orka

This sad affair in Highathar, in which your majesty has seen fight to involve himself, must be brought to its end. Your father, what else might be said about him, did not throw away lives without purpose, and neither should you start. Use your influence in Kogansunan and Yurdaest to bring them to the congress that we might achieve a lasting peace without experiencing the needless loss of war.

May the Light watch you,

Nienna Coamenel, Queen of the Elves, Lady of the Forest, and Lord of the Light.

 

[baboushreturns]

The elven missives return within several weeks from the lands of King Oruk I, with messages bearing his seal.

​

To Queen Nienna Coamenel, Lady of the Forest, Lord of Light

I too seek an end to the conflicts that have spread like a plague throughout Highathar and sow instability and anarchy in the lands between us. Therefore, out of respect for you my Queen as well as out of mutual interest I will send messages to Yurdaest and to my representatives in Kogansunan beckoning them to attend the Congress. I will also personally attend the Congress as I believe that the cause of peace in Highathar is of the utmost importance. May the Gods Bless you.

King Oruk I, Conqueror of the Wilds, Restorer of Kogansunan and Lord of Goi'Orka​

==================
​

To Dàin Blacklocks, High King of Yurdaest, Defender of the Inner Mountains

Kogansunan has finally been restored, which means that there is at least one less conflict brewing in Highathar. With that said we must both still look upon the Deagrins and Mahakams as a grave threat. Recently Queen Nienna Coamenel has proposed a Congress which will include all of Highathar's major players. I have been asked to invite you to come join the Congress. This may be a chance to get Yurdaest's independence formally recognized by the power's that be and may also be your best chance to avert an elven intervention which would certainly make your strategic situation much worse. Therefore I urge you to attend, or to send a trusted advisor in your stead who can represent your interests while you remain in Yurdaest ensuring its protection. May the Gods be with you.

King Oruk I, Conqueror of the Wilds, Restorer of Kogansunan and Lord of Goi'Orka

​

 

[baboushreturns]

The End of an Era
​

(A joint IC with Pluto)


Nienna, who had never been to a mountain home, had been unable to hide her wonder upon arriving at Mt. Carbon. Built entirely underground the city was, to her eyes, a confusing maze of tunnels and crosswalks that the dwarves seemed to navigate with an ease that comes from years of experience. The palace chambers themselves were situated deep into the earth, behind their own set of thick iron gates, seemingly the last line of defense in an invasion. The architecture was distinctly dwarven, with massive halls, large enough to fit dragons, carved out of solid stone. Yet she could not help but notice that there was some evidence of elvish influence as well in some of the more intricate decoration, no doubt a result of the mountain’s close proximity to Galadriel.


Mahakam had welcomed her and her retinue, setting them up within a hall of rooms on the opposite side of the palace chambers from where he said that King Oruk and Yurdaest would be staying. To her disappointment, the underking did not seem to have particularly high hopes for the congress, though his willingness to host it at all gave her some hope. It did not take long for her escorts to settle into the mountain home, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the other members of the congress.


When the delegation of King Oruk did finally arrive it was not long before one of the palace guards arrived at her chambers, expressing the King’s wish to speak privately, prior to the beginning of the congress. Agreeing, Nienna allowed the guard to lead her to his rooms.


Upon entering the Queen found the orc’s chambers to be quite similar to her own. His soldiers and servants stood rigid, their discipline ingrained into their psyche. A servant greeted Nienna at the door bowing to her before leading her into the chambers where she found the Orc King seated at an ornate dwarven table of rock positioned in the center of the room. The table lay bare aside from a few cups and what was presumably a jug of wine. The orc wore little in the way of formal attire, wearing nothing but a plain leather tunic and matching leggings. When the elf entered Oruk spoke first the fake tones of friendship in his voice.


“Welcome Queen Nienna, I hope you are doing well, I am sorry to have disturbed you at this late hour, please be seated.”


“Do not apologize,” Nienna replied, her voice melodious and clear as she sat across from him. She had not bothered with all the trappings of her station, arriving only in a simple dress of silk, which billowed out at the elbows. “I have had little use for sleep since arriving here. Any time I do I imagine that the entire mountain will collapse atop my head.” She said, offering a friendly smile.


Oruk gave the elf an understanding chuckle. “I hate these mountains, they feel haunted. So much pain and misery all concentrated in one place, the souls of thousands trapped unable to reach the sky. I haven’t got much sleep either, not for these past few years really. You know what it’s like on campaign.” Oruk reached up to wipe the sleep out of his eyes almost reflexively as he finished.


“Only vaguely, it has been quite some time,” she replied, raising an eyebrow at the orc king. “But as someone who has taken part more recently, I am sure that you see the great value in this congress’s ability to avoid war.”


Oruk gave a nod as Nienna finished speaking. “No one wins the war here, or if they do they’ll wish they hadn’t. The full weight of Goi’Orka stands behind this Congress. We must hammer out a deal here lest what remains of order falls to the anarchy that engulfs these lands.”


The queen nodded as well. “That is my hope, difficult as it may be to achieve.” Sitting back in her chair Nienna watched Oruk intently, curious as to what he had hoped to speak about.


Oruk looked back, before pouring himself a glass of wine. “Right let us get down to business. I asked you here tonight to discuss what we will be covering in the days to come. If our two countries come to an agreement I believe together we can enforce it on the dwarves and thus bring an end to the war here. The key to this plan however is for us to remain organize and for our agreement to remain secret.” Oruk took a pause before continuing, reaching under the table before pulling out a map which he unrolled and set down, placing several cups on it’s edges to keep it from curling. Pointing at the thing he said, “I believe the best way forward is to divide Highathar into zones of interest, with the Kingdom of Galadriel responsible for the underkingdoms of High Mountain and Mount Carbon, while Goi’Orka maintains the peace in Kogansunan and Yurdeast. We both ensure that no punitive raids or attacks are launched and we also ensure that security and order is maintained here.“


“You make it out to be such a simple matter,” she observed plainly, looking over the map before looking back up at Oruk. “There are a number of grievances at play here, you understand, not just among the dwarves, but among my people as well.”


The King nodded understandingly, “Yurdaest was clearly in the wrong raiding your lands, yet I cannot see the point in wasting lives trying to take a fortress like Yurdaest with so little to gain. Especially when it seems like their hostility has been contained. My alliance with their king, the marriage of his relatives to my vassal will further tighten the control I can exert over him and, I believe it is the elven way to attempt diplomacy over violence as a first resort, correct?” Oruk took a deep breath before continuing. “As for the Mahakams and the Deagrin pup, I understand their want to reunite the fallen Kingdom, to bring Yurdaest and Kogansunan back into the fold but again that cannot happen. First one must conquer the other, a bloody affair which will leave neither in the position to attempt a conquest against the joint strength of Yurdaest and Goi’Orka. For my part I have little lust for further war, therefore I believe we must all come to some compromise, perhaps not one we are happy with but one that will keep our young alive so that they may grow to a ripe old age as it should be.”


“My inclination is towards diplomacy and compromise, you are right Oruk, but you must also understand that my people have long suffered abuses, and we are not unwilling to defend ourselves from them should it prove necessary.” She paused, clearing her throat. “Your proposal though, it is interesting, if incomplete. You speak of compromise but what are Yurdaest or Kogansunan being asked to sacrifice, what of you? I am to leave those who had their goods stolen and friends killed without any sort of restitution. Deagrin, who it must be recognized is the legitimate high king of Highathar, is asked to watch his nation die. For what, I wonder?” She raised a finger to her chin, staring intensely at Oruk. “Then there is the matter of the slavery that is propagated in Goi’Orka.”


Oruk nodded as Nienna spoke and when she finished he sat silent for a several moments before speaking. “Of the lives lost in Galadriel and the goods stolen, I can pay to restore what was taken the lives that were lost can never be restored but, I don’t see how a further loss of life is a remedy to that…” Oruk looked down for a moment before speaking again. “My favorite classic is that written by the ancient Imperial Aeschylus, he wrote “Even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.” The trials of the Great War did in time make the east stronger, and so too will this war make Highathar stronger. Perhaps not the line of Dain but the people of Highathar will enjoy prosperity and connections to the world they could never have dreamed of just a generation of go. I restored order to Kogansunan to save lives, my kin, and the dwarves had been locked in an eternal genocidal struggle. I have put an end to that, neither the dwarven innocents nor the orcs have been slaughtered and order is being restored there. The bodies of my men and the gold I offer you should be all the sacrifice Goi’Orka owes.” Oruk sat back in his chair as the final words left him, tension riveting through his body.


“I do not fault you for bringing an end to a slaughter Oruk, though it is convenient that you benefit so much for your good deed,” she said with a small shake of her head. “But you cannot expect Deagrin to agree to this for the wider idea of the dwarven people. I might convince him that it is the best course of action, but then I find myself aligning with a king who keeps slaves against one of a house with whom my people have long been friends.” The queen sighed, but met the king’s eyes. “I noticed that you avoided any mention of that in your reply.”


Oruk simply returned the look but did not flinch. “Slavery, serfdom, indentured servitude, they are all different shades of grey. I do not expect you to understand but the lives and the stability of my kingdom relies on slavery and slave labor. It is not about the enslavement of a specific race or religion but as in any society those at the bottom of the rung often end up in a difficult position. Slavery has been a part of Goi’Orka’s history since long before any orc was king there, and any power who was tried to remove it throughout the city's history has failed. Let me remind you that our slaves did not keep my father from sacrificing himself at Coal to save the army of the Light from almost certain destruction. Something that is often forgotten by you lords in the east. As for Kogansunan I would hardly describe that as a beneficial situation. The city lies in ruins, the mines are half collapsed, much of the population was starving before order was restored due to the bomb set off while the last Bathror Underking still ruled. Kogansunan will be a drain of Goi’Orka for several years more than likely.”


“An investment then. Speak true Oruk, I have ruled for too long not to know the ways of kings.” Nienna sighed dourly. “I find myself in agreement with you on the similarity of slavery and serfdom, both are vile institutions, that yours is not specific to race or religion does little to make it better.” She spread her arms. “Consider Galadriel, as you say, those who are the poorest might struggle, but they are not kept that way through violence. There are those in my court whose fathers were simple farmers. To your father, know that I have not forgotten him, but one right does not fix a wrong.” The queen’s voice softened as she looked up to him again. “How is it that we might claim to be Lords of the Light, in service to the Creator, when we keep his children in bondage?”


Oruk shook his head sadly, “You oversimplify things Queen, as I said Goi’Orka is deeply historically, socially and culturally entrenched in its system of slavery. If one were to take on the trade they would be taking on the entire ruling class. And while I am not blind to the suffering that the trade fosters, I do not see how the harm done to my country, the blood that will be spilt in the cause for liberation and the irreparable social damage done to Goi’Orka’s society could equalize the good. Especially when all that work will be for little more than to make the slaves into serfs. What I can promise however is to not allow the trade to grow east. Something which I know would be of great concern to you.”


“One might say that the Birchians are deeply entrenched in their desire to bring the Dark One to the world, but that would not mean that we should support their efforts.” Nienna shook her head. “Do not think me unreasonable, I do not expect all suffering to end tomorrow, but your proposal necessitates closer relations between our realms, yes? Elven trade would benefit Goi’Orka, to be sure, just as Goi’Orka trade would benefit us, and yet how would I justify goods produced by slaves entering my realm? How would I attend a coronation where my glass would be filled by slaves? The tension that would be created could not be contained forever.” She placed her palms on the table. “It would not be beyond us, working together, to stride towards the liberation of these men and women.”


Oruk contemplated the Queen’s words. “I do believe in time, if certain conditions are met by the east that allow Goi’Orka a smooth transition into eastern society and, eastern recognition of my Kingdom’s place in Agorath as well as monetary and economic reforms to cushion the end of slavery, in time a slow liberation might be possible. However the first step of that process starts here at this Congress. The bloodshed must be brought to an end, and secondly Goi’Orka’s position must be recognized so far as its status as protector of Kogansunan and Yurdaest and the end of the High Kingdom as we knew it.”


Nienna nodded, but said nothing for a time as she considered the matter. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm. “If we are to take this step forward, we must both move at once. Release those slaves held by the crown, show me your intentions are just, and I will convince Deagrin to go along with your proposal.”


Oruk returned the nod. A smile spread across his face as tension left his body. “I will sign a decree tonight if it helps releasing all the slaves serving in my household if that helps bring a speedier resolution to this. But keep to your word Nienna, convince Deagrin, I will keep to mine.”


“Then it seems we have a deal Oruk,” she said, standing from her seat. “And I appreciate the your willingness to discuss these matters. I can only hope that the dwarves will be so agreeable.” She nodded her head in a short bow. “May the light watch you your highness.”

 

[Galren]

Father and Son​

Spoiler: Summary

Zaahir Rostani has one last chat with his son Shakur. It certainly isn't a pleasant one.

It had been only four days after a fruitful conference in Shiek, yet there was still an uneasy air in the Rostani camp. A truce, not a true peace, was negotiated, with the hostage exchange making most uneasy. Shakur Rostani, the hostage on the Rostani side of the deal, requested to meet with his father before being sent off to Mutikabir. Zaahir would comply with this request, especially since he would have wanted to meet his son before he went off anyway.

When Shakur entered his tent, Zaahir noted that his son, unsurprisingly, wasn’t looking too pleased. Shakur did a small bow, then began to speak. “Father, I am afraid that this may be the last time we will speak.”

“Last time?” Zaahir questioned. He had a bad feeling that Shakur wanted to get everything off his chest. He took a little time to think about how to approach what would probably turn into a tense conversation.

“The hostage exchange is not a permanent arrangement, my son. Once the efforts in the Vahamil Steppes have been concluded, Lord Arshad will release you.”

“Father, I understand that this hostage exchange is temporary in order to fight the Birchians with the united forces of Hroniden,” Shakur agreed. “I also see why you chose to fight the Birchians rather than Arshad, especially considering your personal experience during the War of Darkness. My disagreements come from the fact that you are going to trust Lord Arshad with my life and not trying to invade Herasnia.”

“For the sake of the truce, I had to put trust in the idea that Lord Arshad did not want another invasion from the Birchians,” Zaahir admitted with a hint of incredulity. “He was around during the War of Darkness and had his own personal losses from that conflict.”

Shakur frowned at Zaahir being sympathetic towards Lord Arshad. “And you let him lay down the terms of peace because of sympathy?”

“I assumed the other lords thought of me as the aggressor in the escalation between Lord Arshad and myself,” Zaahir added. “I did not warn Lord Arshad that my forces would be coming up to the wall, and I did not answer his letter when he asked for Nasir to stand trial in Mutikabir.”

“You took away petty change compared to the treasury Lord Arshad made off with,” Shakur argued. “Among his innumerable crimes, Lord Arshad had executed Lord Bashk on what likely were trumped up charges and attacked Herasnia’s forces first. He is the one who started this conflict, not you!”

“My son,” Zaahir began, “while you believe that I am not the aggressor, what mattered in that conference was the opinion of the other lords, not yours. Their opinion would certainly not favor me over Lord Arshad.”

“So you didn’t think you would get a favorable deal in conference,” Shakur repeated. “But 5,000 crowns and a hostage exchange as the first offer? These terms seem unreasonably high and probably were intended to see if you would take a higher deal than expected.”

Zaahir had a simple explanation for the lack of bartering. “The negotiations felt like they could fall apart at any time, so I didn’t want to push Lord Arshad too much.”

“And you still trust him with my life?” Shakur asked with anger. “For all we know, I could be murdered the instant I step foot inside Mutikabir, and you would get a statement from Lord Arshad saying that I confessed that Nasir is a sham and you are Nasir’s lackey. He doesn’t even have to torture me for a forced confession!”

“Arshad would have to return your body if anything happened to you, Shakur,” Zaahir said with little confidence.

“He could just say that my body was taken away by the rioters or someone else and then dump my body into the Amenra,” Shakur countered.

“The other lords would be watching this agreement as well,” Zaahir offered.

“You mean you are relying on their honor,” Shakur concluded. “Father, honor has never treated you or grandfather kindly! What happened in the War of the Triumvirate when grandfather honored his alliance with Salah al-Din?”

Zaahir waited a bit to see if Shakur continued. When he didn’t, Zaahir answered, “The triumvirate was betrayed by Ra’Gru,”

Shakur continued where Zaahir left off immediately. “And grandfather was forced to grovel and concede to the demands of the elves at swordpoint!”

The two had a moment of silence after Shakur brought up the past, long enough to be awkward for both of them.

“You know father, I am a little jealous of Nasir,” Shakur confessed. “You and grandfather seem to think he is more important than the rest of your family.”

Zaahir looked and Shakur and understood what he was saying. Due to his age, Zaahir could be Nasir’s father and Shakur was likely jealous of his father’s attention being suddenly turned to Nasir when he had done nothing, in Shakur’s mind, that warranted that attention.

“I didn’t want to give Arshad exactly what he wanted,” Zaahir said in a hollow attempt to comfort Shakur. “I still wanted to give him something of value, though.”

“He wants Nasir,” Shakur bluntly stated. “To Arshad, I’m just another head he can claim. He will not be satisfied until he has Nasir.”

Zaahir couldn't disagree with Shakur.

Before he left, Shakur had one last request. “Father, if the boats you own are still around, have them try to fish my body out of the Amenra.” Shakur was trying to amuse himself and his father, but it didn’t work and both of them knew it.

“Goodbye, father.”

Shakur left the tent and Zaahir behind. As he was collecting his thoughts, Zaahir could only think about Arshad’s hostage. He hoped it wouldn’t be as much of a headache greeting him as Shakur leaving did.