Berrin and Aylene receive wave after wave of well-wishers who bring gifts ranging from simple knit blankets to an ornate gear-driven, six-foot-tall clock from Narthropple. The speeches lead to laughter, tears, and smiles all around. The people of Sanctuary happily celebrate their freedom and the wedding of their popular one-time leader. For all the trials of their fledgling nation - the attack by dragons and the food shortage in the winter amongst the more recent challenges - these are a happy, hardy people. Under the watchful eyes of the brave guardsmen and Wardens, the celebration continues long into the night - long after Berrin and Aylene were carried together into their bedchambers inside the castle and locked in the room. By the wedding traditions of Brevoy, their so-called friends tied heavy bells to each post of the bed, then cheered at each instance of their ringing.
Svetlana Leveton talks to Nikolai for much of the evening. While Oleg - never a particularly friendly man - remains fairly cool towards the former Stag Lord, Svetlana seems more than willing to give him a second opportunity. As she explains it, she trusts Jemini's judgment; since Jemini gave him a second chance, she should honor her and give him one as well. Oleg does, however, get in a sly joke by saying that he'd prefer to keep Nikolai at an arm's length; it takes a few moments for anyone to realize that Oleg actually made a joke. Svetlana explains much to Nikolai about the people of the Stolen Lands; by the time she finishes, he feels a deeper respect and understanding of the hardy frontier folk.
There are few times in the next several days that the bells do not ring throughout the castle. Those few times are the only chance for the business of the realm to actually be done. Jemini and Verik sit upstairs in the library, responding to correspondence. Kesten departed the day after the wedding to attempt to smooth their relations with King Irovetti, an effort to which Lord Lebeda also sent a diplomatic mediator. In the middle of a technical letter explaining tariffs and levies (both of which remain quite low) in Olegsgrav, they hear a knock on the door. Zander (Whitestag) enters, holding his horned helm in his hand and wearing his usual magical disguise. "Wardens Demitir and Travess sent a raven with news from the southern frontier. I thought you should know about it. They've caught word that the troll king Hargulka has reached out to the Nomen Centaurs living in the highlands south of Varnhold, trying for an alliance. They're supposed to meet a week from now at the Nomen camp. Do you want me to round up the rest so you can discuss this?"
Nodding at Verik, Jemini lets herself be swept into the festivities of the wedding celebration. It doesn't take long for her to discover the extents of Verik's capabilities as a dancer - and though his mastery is lacking, he makes up for it in the earnest and dedicated way of an Abadarian cleric. Bokken's finest must be getting to both, as Jemini only whispers to him once to have fun, enjoy the dance, rather than focus on getting the moves right.
When Maegar Varn makes his speech, the radiance and pride of a father who genuinely enjoys (even is grateful!) for the union of Berrin and Aylene shines through. When he declares the bride and groom for sale, Jemini rises with the opening cheer. "Hear hear, the addition of such a fine man to the nobility is enough to even make Verik grudgingly nod his head. But where Verik is an old dog who hardly learns new tricks, I see that Berrin is like a young puppy - happily wagging his tail as his beautiful new owner teaches him new tricks. At least, I have no other explanation for how Berrin could have begun to dance with such passion and competence. Aylene! You're a wonderful influence on our Berrin here, and as you have brought out the best in him - I hope to hear soon that he's bringing the best out of you!" Here Jemini motions to her tummy and indicates a bulging, much to the delight of the crowd. "But, before you two get too far ahead with that - allow me, Aylene, to purchase a dance from your husband; and while I'm at it, Berrin! Verik here will get a good dance from your fiery wife! The payment is curtsey of my father. You may not have wowed him with your suave words yet, but he hopes to see that change." With these words Jemini presents two fine circlets. "Though mark my words: just as you two, Aylene and Berrin, bring out the best of each other when you're together, so do these two items."
Standing there with a bemused look upon his face as Jemini gives her fine gifts and words of blessing to the couple, his somewhat wine-addled mind thinks back to their brief time at the dance. Oh he was clearly outclassed by Jemini and there were no doubts about that, but to his surprise he found he could take her advice and just enjoy the moment, drowning out his usual concerns of correctness and embarrassment. More importantly, he could dance and be at ease with Jemini now, with the old emotions and issues over her this past year largely gone from his mind. All men are fools he reminded himself with a smirk, and Verik certainly was no exception, he fully realized that now and embraced it. That was not to say there still wasn't a part of him that loved her, or enjoyed the fanciful notion of having the acceptance of the Brevian nobility such as the Lebedas. Still, his love for her now was more akin to what he felt for Tandlara, with a resolve to help her in any way possible. Even to find true love with another. Even if that happened to be the Orlovsky lad, or some other match that Jemini deemed correct for her. Well, nearly anyone but Nikolai, but that prospect seemed even more remote than Verik himself. He would take his comforts in that denial as his last vestige of petty jealousy over Jemini fulfilled.
Jemini's gifts were exquisite as he knew they would be, and the cheering applause from the crowd was palpable. It suddenly occurred to Verik that he had to speak now before they struck up the tune, else he'd violate Brevian custom by dancing with Aylene before he had "paid" for the action in front of everyone.
"An old dog? Bah!" Verik throws up his arms with a mock scowl upon his face, looking for sympathy but expecting jeers and laughter. Of course, the reaction had the desired effect. "Once again my Lady wounds me to the core, but she speaks true that I only rarely "bound" at the chance to welcome another Brevian noble to our realm." Turning fully to face Berrin as if performing a mock inspection, Verik adds dryly, "So I'm an old dog and you are a young pup eh? Shall I forego the obvious references to being yard-trained? I think so!"
To the crowd he says loudly, "A few passages then on the virtues of these given gifts to mark the occasion?" Almost immediately a vast collection of groans and cries of "NO" ripples across the square, followed by more laughter from the crowd. Verik sighs grandly and shakes his head in mock defeat. "Peace! I shall refrain from bleeding all your ears with more sermons then, so onto it straightaway."
"Aylene, Berrin, my gifts pale in comparison to Jemini's, as well they should. To Aylene, I offer my services once weekly - without payment - to continuance of her joyous desire of flight, so that she may know its grandeur and freedom. Berrin, you once desired of me the freedom to walk the lake waters or breathe its depths without harm, and so I offer this to you and Aylene in weekly service as well." As Verik speaks his lead guardsman Bertram Dakkone steps forward with a wide wooden case. "Now those are my gifts of service, but in addition I offer three items I obtained in trade down the Sellen, which I think you will both agree to." Bertram opens the case, revealing three bottles of liquor set in plush cushioning. "Not an easy find mind you, but well worth it. The first is a five-year Taldan Fire-Brandy from Oppara. The second is a bottle of sweet and exotic 'Penj' of Vudrani origins, from far-off Jalmeray by way of Absalom. The third is a bottle of vintage Chelish Crimson Wine - perhaps the only good thing I've found comes from there. May both of you enjoy them heartily but not hastily, and always in the company of each other, never alone."
Berrin grins and leans back onto a pole, sipping an ale that is thrust into his hands, when Maegar whips his daughter away to dance, admiring his wife and counting his blessings yet again, his friends, followers and new kin he reaches down to scratch Reggie behind one ear, the thylacine leaving an unnoticed wet stain on Berrin's pants.
The rest of the wedding goes by in a blur as wave after wave of well wishers and gift givers come by to purchase dances of the newlyweds, the circlet goes straight onto Berrin's head by a grateful Aylene with a muttered "Gods know he needs it, thank you Jemini." from her and a grin from Berrin who's sure he looks dashing with it on his brow, eyeing the offered wine from Verik Berrin embraces the man in a bear hug and gives him an earnest 'thank you' before taking up his dance with Jemini.
The gifts pile up and Berrin and Aylene Myrdal thank each and every one heartily, though both seem more than a bit apprehensive with Narthrople's clock, and the day passes quickly as they dance again and again to pay of their gifts.
All in all the day was perfect in both their minds, ending in a ceremony they both knew was coming and eagerly anticipated, with the bells ringing well into the night.
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The morning finds Berrin sitting, with a serious expression on his face, at his desk, a thing used more for gathering dirty clothing and dirty food plates more than anything in Berrins mind, a blanket draped over his shoulders and a space cleared on the desk for a piece of parchment and an open ink bottle. Holding a pen in his hand Berrin glares at the parchment as if it's an enemy on an open battlefield, trying to figure out where to begin and how to proceed. Alayne's soft breathing, as she still sleeps on the bed, creates a soft ambiance in the growing light as Berrin attacks the parchment.
How's the knee? You always said it was ruined after you took an arrow too it and that's the only reason you stopped adventuring and met dad, but I guess I'm grateful for it as otherwise you wouldn't have had me and the rest of us...
Stopping mid-sentence Berrin growls, crumples up the letter and tosses it away, starting again.
I hope this letter finds you well. I am well...
Again, with a frustrated growl, Berrin crumples the letter and starts anew.
I hope this letter finds you well, how's the knee?
I have many news.
First off I'm married. The girls name is Aylene Varn, now Myrdal, daughter of Margar Varn, King of Varnhold. Yes, mum. King. She's a fiery redhead, willful and full of energy. You'll love her.
Second, I've been made Boyar to House Lebeda. No, mum. I'm not lying. These past eight years have been eventful to say the least, but I'm glad to say that I've done well for myself and would like to believe that I've made you proud.
I know that our parting was not a happy occasion and I must admit that your warnings about the Red Stripe were not ill-founded, you'll be glad to know that we parted ways some years ago. I spent some time going from city to city, Port Ice to Restov, to New Stetven where I picked up a call to hunt bandits in the Stolen Lands.
We did well here, me and the group, defeating the notorious bandit king called the Stag Lord and founding a nation, Newhaven. I'm sure the news of this fledgling nation has reached you but I'm unsure if the news that your son is in the thick of it has. I served as Steward of the nation for a time, they called me Berrin Not-King Myrdal, and after the resurrection of our leader, Jemini of House Lebeda, I have served as General of the Armies and live in the castle here in Newhaven, the capitol of Newhaven.
The marriage was formed partly to secure an alliance between us and our neighbors, Varnhold, but I can honestly tell you that Maegar likes me, and me and Aylene are very fond of each other.
I would like nothing more but to invite you to come and live in Sanctuary, a place of new hope and beginnings, but war looms on the horizon. Monstous fey loom to the east, trolls and centaurs to the south and Pitax has yet to be anything but unfriendly too us as of yet. I believe we will ride to war before the summer is out.
I will write to you once I believe that coming here will not prove perilous to you and send money to pay for your travel, if you would like to come that is.
I will send a hundred gold pieces and a ring with my coat of arms, a bear eating a sword, with this letter to prove to you the truth of my words.
Your loving son, Boyar Berrin Myrdal, General of the Armies,
Sanctuary, Newhaven,
20 Gozran 4710.
Sighing as he finishes the hard and heartfelt letter Berrin lights a candle, melts wax, and seals the letter with his signet ring. Turning to head out and send the letter Berrin finds Aylene awake, draped in the sheets, staring at him with a smile.
Smiling apologetically he waves the letter and offers a lame "To me mum." and heads out to find a page to send the letter.
Verik stares incredulously at Zander from the fine table of the castle's private library. Seated comfortably across from Jemini, he holds a serviceable goose-feather quill in his hand poised above a sheet of parchment barely a sentence old, now growing with an ugly puddle of ink from his inaction. "Zander...centaurs did I hear you say? Why surely this cannot be...oh Cogs!" Verik's disbelieving words are cut short by the realization he has ruined his writing, and in unthinking haste tries to wipe the ink away, smearing it across the parchment and staining both his right hand and the table top.
Shaking his head, he tsks himself for his errant clumsiness and pulls forth a linen kerchief to try and clean the mess. He gains a modicum of composure by the time he speaks next. "Since when were there centaurs of any number near Varnhold, and where is this Nomen place you speak of? And why am I the last to hear of a roving group of horsemen as if mere common knowledge to the rest of you? And can someone tell me how filthy festering trolls try to form alliances with other beasts, as if they possessed the intellect to..." Verik trails off with his brow furrowed in thought, as something sounded familiar from his discussions with Pathfinder Gunderson recently.
He snaps his ink-stained fingers in remembrance. "Of course I remember now! There were centaurs of some numbers in the rune-writings of those foul cyclops of Old Candlemere Tower, and they were crushed by their cyclops leader Vodker...ken...kit-something. Of course that was thousands of years ago." Irritably he adds, "I suppose that isn't significant to this current situation."
The winter began mildly, but a sharp drop in temperatures and a food shortage nearly caused a riot. Oleg Leveton, ever-cautious and prepared, sent much of Olegsgrav's stores in a massive - and well-guarded - caravan. The people of Sanctuary survived the cold snap, which passed when the new year arrived. The early arrival of spring heralded an early start to the planting season, making it likely that they would be able to refill their stores and those of Olegsgrav easily, with enough extra to sell. The mild weather also brought a surge of trading, with a few more of Narthropple's caravans coming through unmolested from the south and heavy trading between Sanctuary and Varnhold. Zander's Wardens had heard neither hide nor hair (so to speak) of the trolls or their allies, but Varn's southern frontier reported multiple skirmishes with the native centaurs pushing into Varnhold. These worries of rule slip from her mind when she sees Berrin and Aylene slip rings on each other's fingers.
After Berrin finds a page - a young orphan boy once in Tandlara's employ - to deliver his wax-sealed letter, one of the guardsmen flags him down downstairs in the guard's mess hall. "General, your presence has been requested by the Warden in Banker Jarrow's study." His voice betrays some distaste towards Zander, as most of the guards find him unsettling and strange. Berrin nods and heads upstairs to see what Verik and Zander want. He nearly hops with a jaunt in his step, clearly quite pleased with the way his post-wedded days have turned out thus far.
Berrin enters to find most of the other Founders there. Jemini and Verik sit across from each other at the table with a stack of parchment between them. Akiros stands stiffly by the door - ever the guard. Hal, the new spymaster, has taken a seat somewhat presumptuously. Jhod and Oleg - whose wife went back to Olegsgrav with their daughter after the wedding - both stand along the shelves of the library. Nikolai lurks in a corner, seemingly somewhat mystified by his inclusion in the conference. Zander - using Verik's magic rather than the Stag Lord's helm to hide his burned features - stands above the table and gestures for Verik to move the parchment aside. The Banker does so with care, trying not to ruin any more paper with his ink-stained fingerprints. Zander places a map on the table, making everyone lean in to see its contents.
The map covers the features explored by Zander and the Wardens over the past several years to the south and southeast of Newhaven. It features Candlemere Lake and scouting missions into the territory thought to be controlled by Hargulka to the southwest. Between the Gudrin River and the Shrike River, a fertile river valley that Jhod has long lobbied to head towards, Zander has marked the danger of wolf packs (with a note: "Howl?") and possible lizardfolk raids. Further east, Zander has marked the lands southeast of Lake Silverstep - which Varnhold uses as a port to send water trade down the Gudrin - as the Nomen Heights. These lands are rocky highlands and plateaus, each of which is controlled by a fractious centaur tribe. Zander taps this part of the map. "Some of the Wardens have gotten word of a meeting between the troll king Hargulka and the centaur chieftains. It is supposed to take place here, at the Linnorm's Grave - named after the bones of a linnorm there. It should be sometime next week."
Hal pipes in with his own analysis. "The centaurs don't work particularly well with humans, so I don't have any direct leverage to place a saboteur or spy. I could lash myself to a horse, but I think they'd notice. What I have discovered is the names of the tribes, and their basic calculus. There are essentially five major tribes. The Cangarit, Magrat, Rashkala, Ganghash, and Kolga tribes. At any given time, each is at war with at least one and sometimes all of the others. As best I can tell, the Cangarit, Ganghash, and Kolga are in a loose alliance against the Magrat and Rashkala, but the Kolga were last at war with the Cangarit and still bear some ill will. There are at least several hundred warriors in each tribe."
During Zander's explanation, Aylene slips in and wraps an arm around her husband, having apparently been advised of the situation by the same helpful guardsman. She and Berrin ignore the smirking of all those who have been listening to their bell-ringing all week. "My father's been having trouble with the centaurs as long as he has been there. As soon as he makes some peace with one of the tribes, another one takes offense and starts raiding. The farmers and frontiersmen won't settle there because of the danger. If Hargulka is able to unite them, Varnhold doesn't stand much of a chance."
"I suppose any alliance between trolls and other races are... fickle at best," Jemini muses hopefully. "What concerns me more, is that these aren't normal things for trolls to do; orcs, yes, they bicker among themselves until one is feared enough to rise to warlord and lead a horde into an invasion. But trolls? Powerful, dangerous, and usually quite dumb. I think it would be too much of a stretch of disbelief to hope this is an exceedingly rare troll of middling to superior intelligence that is marshaling trolls and other races into a frenzy. No... the smart money lies on a hidden power that directs from the shadows."
Jemini's head seesaws side-to-side, her hair tumbling with the motion. "I don't even suppose this is Choral's doing - from the little we know of him I expect rallying what he might term lesser races to put a thorn in our side doesn't seem, well, grand enough for him. And for all the ill-will that may come out of there, I find it hard to imagine that some elaborate plot is afoot where the center of the web lies in Pitax. ...be that as it may, I think we should not just address the obvious threat of a troll and centaur invasion, but also see if there is some deeper thread at work that we can try to unravel."
"Well.." Berrin muses, rocking to and fro with Aylene in his arms, his nose nestled in her hair. "If Maegar has failed to negotiate with the centaurs I don't see us succeeding, so maybe the course should be to make sure that they remember their animosity to each other, that, or we could try where Maegar failed?"
"One things for sure though." he adds, his face darkening. "Hargulka is the bigger threat, dragon or fey involvement or no. He needs to go."
"Perhaps we should crash the party ourselves?" Berrin more asks than suggests, hugging Aylene closer.
Verik looks up at the ceiling and mutters, "Master, is it truly your will that these lands lawfully claimed should be subjected to every manner of beast imaginable? Dragons and trolls, lizardmen and hydras skulking in swamps and rivers, and now tribes of equine beastmen? And I once thought bandits and bears were trouble..."
Shaking his head, he looks around the room at the other Founders, though his face frowns at the constant hugging of Berrin and Aylene briefly before he fixes his gaze towards the table. "I find I am in agreement with Jemini. And Berrin as well, much as that pains me to profess." He holds up his index finger. "I agree with Jemini that these stinking troll brutes simply cannot have the mental faculties to conduct treaties and political machinations, so there must be some other hidden force at work, perhaps something that lacks strength of force in their own right." Verik holds up a second finger. "To Berrin's point, we need to slay these troll delegates and leave the centaurs to devolve to their usual feuds and conflicts. I should think as long as we do not provoke bloodshed with the centaurs to unite them in common hatred, the trolls are our aim. Whom do the Founders suggest to send however?"
I will negotiate with the centaurs. Nikolai says from the corner. I am unpracticed in working treaties with nobility, so I will learn what I can. It is the River Kingdoms. If they abandon the trolls and we have peace with them, I will carve room for them. If we gain land to the North because of war, we will release our claim on parts of it and let them claim it for their own.
He looks to Jemini. Perhaps we cannot forge a lasting peace with the centaurs, but I can look them in the eye and offer it as equals. And they are not evil, so we must try something before we are forced to slay them as we will the trolls.
"Oh?" Verik clearly blanches at the statement of Nikolai offering peace to the centaurs as equals. "Is this diplomacy before, after or during the part about turning trolls into over-sized ash piles?" He shrugs his shoulders. "Are you going troll-slaying on your way to this Linnorm's Grave? I find it hard to fathom that you would bypass any opportunity to prove your prowess - and that which I hear they call Dragonsbreath - on a troll enemy which would have no mercy or quarter from us."
Nikolai remains uncharacteristically calm. Ever you fail to listen, Verik. I said the centaurs are not evil. I said the trolls would be defeated. I said I will practice diplomacy. The centaurs will have peace, independence, and a promise of new lands, or they will have war against the heroes of Varnhold and the likes of us, and die under monstrous rule. If I make land for myself, or if I decide to pursue this crown, the centaurs benefit. If they do not attack Varnhold, a piece of my debt is repaid.
He walks to the other side of the room and stands by Jemini. You do not owe me forgiveness. But if you're going to accept me as ally, you'll take what I offer. If not, I'll always be what you hate. And one day, that will only be your fault.
Berrin can't help but raise an eyebrow at Nikolai's offer of acting as diplomat, the barbarian had shown more restraint lately than Berrin would ever have credited the man but this was new.
'Perhaps Jem was right, maybe he can change?'
Looking from Verik to Nikolai as they bandy words, leave it to the cleric to start an argument, Berrin opts to remain silent on the matter and looks to Jemini to make the ruling.
Verik sourly retorts at Nikolai, though he does not turn to look at him. "Oh I heard you well enough Nikolai Rogvaria, but as usual you fail to make sense. Are you "practicing" diplomacy to serve the needs of Newhaven? Varnhold perhaps? No. Seems to me you are diplomat to a mythical land in your own mind, with you as King."
Verik spreads him arms wide, with a forced smile upon his face and looking at the other Founders. "But who am I to prevent our ally, the King of Mytharia, from striking an accord to aid our own paltry "lesser" domains? Please please, by all means please go forward and claim all of Iobaria for all I care - why I shall even aid in finding a seamstress to make you a grand flag to plant in the ground once you get there!"
Verik's words strike a chord somewhere. Though Nikolai fights the impulse, Verik's reply cuts deep. The big man crosses the space between them in two steps, his face turning red and the veins bulging in his neck and arms. Hope I never am a king lest I shove your mockery back behind that arrogant face of yours!
The Stag advances until he look straight down and Verik looks straight up. I didn't say I'd be a king. I didn't send my own assassin, either. Do you think Choral has plans? Do you want me to help you fight him? Do you want less aggression and more alliea? Then close your teeth on your idiot tongue before I do it for you!
Nikolai notices he is shouting. His left index finger is pointed at Verik's sternum. His face inches from the priest's, towering over him. The scars on his face and arms remain pale, but Nikolai's skin is a dangerous red color. He is quiet for a few seconds before he takes a step back. He looks to Jemini again. I said I would offer the barbarians an alliance. I did not ask for anyone's leave.
He walks to the door again, but pauses, his giant hand resting on the brass handle. I thank you for the lesson in diplomacy today. I will try to keep my temper tomorrow. Mind ny words, though, banker.
Verik sits in his chair in a hard stare, his face flushed with anger and his chin jutted forth in some small measure of defiance. He doesn't say anything in reply however, and it is not lost upon the others that during Nikolai's tirade he sat there gripping the arms of his chair with white knuckles.
"Insufferable..." mutters Verik at last, audible but mostly said to himself.
Jemini sits back and quietly lets the interchange pass. Her expression is a frozen mask depicting a subtle marriage of a smirk and exasperation. Quietly, perhaps just loud enough for Berrin to hear, she mutters: "...girls, girls, you're both pretty."
When Nikolai is off, Jemini adds to the room: "Well - this initiative should be encouraged. I think I'll accompany Nikolai on his quest to relax the equine beastmen. Actually, I can imagine the possibility of an alliance; though I admit I may be swayed by having heard that - by all accounts - a righteous centaur holds a position of some notable authority in the Hellknights. ...Korvosa I think it was."
"Oh of course you had to decide that way," snaps Verik, his arms now folded defensively across his chest. "Why should I expect any different? Well don't think this Banker is just going to follow along like a lost lamb looking for his shepherd!" He snaps his fingers in mock discovery. "Oh and you'd better get used to walking or riding goats across the Stolen Lands, because if you take horses you'll probably give offense on enslaving their long-lost ancestors!"
Glaring over at Berrin he adds, "And I suppose you're going as well?"
Jemini's voice is a little quiet as she leaves the room, "It's not just that, I'm a little selfish too - Irori forgive me - but if something happens to Nikolai... I don't just want to sit here, talking with you, and suddenly..." her voice trails off.
Berrin and Aylene both snicker at Jemini's remark, trying without success to cover their respective grins with shifting feet and small coughs as they eye Verik and Nikolai. At Verik's comment they both grow somber and look each other in the eye and after a moment give Verik an affirmative.
"Can't let those two out alone, who knows what trouble they'll find. Besides, it's been to long since I got the chance to take Valnyr out for a proper outing."
Sitting there with his arms crossed in his chair, he stares glumly at the table. Once again she did it to him. While he could take whole hour-spans arguing over every single point and issue in excruciating detail, Jemini needed just a single sentence to disarm him. More than disarm him, to shame him into what truly mattered. It was a rare and tremendous skill she had in that regard, and despite Verik wanting to be angry at her for attempting some sort of manipulation to achieve it, deep down he knew it was just an honest, innate part of her being. He could no more be angry at Jemini for that as for breathing air.
Verik knew what the outcome would be, now that she decided to accompany Nikolai. He left his friends once, at Stagfall. It would not happen again, no matter how injured pride or stubbornness wished otherwise.
"Of course Berrin, you are right. We started off once before on a troll hunt and got sidetracked, and now matters are more dire for us. Time to tip the scales." He manages a weak smile and nod at Berrin. "Besides, all those times you had me suffer at the training grounds this winter with banded mail, and I've yet to test the new plate that was made to fit me properly. Can you...ahh...do you have a suitable horse that I can ride, for Virtue is not battle-trained and has become a favorite for the children at the Keyhouse."
Sniping and petty arguments aside, the Founders quickly settle on the difficult decision of who will go and who will stay. Leading the considerations are the competing priorities showing sufficient deference to the centaurs by sending their strongest warriors and of ensuring that Newhaven remains well-protected in case of another attack. Jemini will lead the group herself, so as to not insult the centaurs by sending an underling. As the general of the armies, Berrin must go - even as Aylene protests losing her newly-wedded husband. Nikolai will provide strength and a physical presence that the centaurs will likely accept. As the centaurs will not treat with them without someone they perceive as a wise adviser, Verik will go south and leave the church in the hands of Thomas Quiss and under the watchful eyes of Taisper. They debate as to whether or not Akiros will go or stay, but come to no conclusion. He remains quiet and does not say which way he will decide, but it is clear that missing Elspeth causes him to want to await her return rather than risk being away when she does. Still, Akiros is not one to let desire get in the way of duty, and duty to the city and to the Founders will be his guide. Jhod, Oleg, Zander, and Hal will remain in Sanctuary to ensure the smooth functioning of the city and its protection. Jemini names Oleg as the acting regent during her absence, which he accepts as a role with a minimum of commentary. The group comes to agreement - Akiros's decision notwithstanding - with the decision that they will leave at daybreak the following day.
Upon the dawn, as the founders gather near the city gates to leave, they find Akiros already there, beweaponed and ahorse, his decision clearly already made. His magical circlet rests upon his brow, his finely crafted new belt of strength cinches around his waist and his beautiful new cloak of protection rests upon his shoulders. He is a man ready for war. Nodding at the others, Akiros says nothing, apparently having no desire to discuss his choice to leave the city under the protection of others.
What thoughts he may have, what motivated him to leave instead of staying remain a mystery at present.
Berrin emerges from the castle main doors into the courtyard with the first rays of the sun making their way slowly across the ground, a grim expression on his face. Fully armed and armored, wearing his gleaming half-plate, the Stag Lords former greatsword on his back, a dagger and Kressel's handaxe hanging from the broad, silver clasped, leather belt crafted by Verik across his waist, his navy-blue cloack flapping behind him, gold fringed with his sigil, a bear eating a sword, in black on it's back and the red, golden-eagle clasped, sash draped over his chest, he strides purposefully toward Valnyr, armored and saddled, carrying the rest of Berrin's gear and arms in various saddlebags and straps, a longbow, the spear flapping Berrin's banner, gold-trimmed, navy blue with his sigil in black, and his longsword and shield at his sides, the steed stands uncharacteristically patient, as it senses it's masters grim mood, determined but hesitant.
Raised voices had carried well into the night after Berrin had spent the day making preparations for the journey, laying orders for the armies continued growth and training, organizing his gear and armor, finding a suitable horse for the less, and less, timid cleric, and avoiding the inevitable argument, he knew was coming, with Aylene, who did not appreciate being left behind.
How Berrin had managed to soothe his wife's temper wasn't exactly clear, but what sounded like the two preparing to come to blows had ended with the bells ringing into the night and now Aylene, as grim faced as Berrin, stood on the castle steps to see her husband off.
Pulling on the saddle, Berrin meets Akiros's clouded eyes and nods stiffly before swinging onto Valnyr's back. "Glad you're with us, marshal." he mutters before turning to wait for the others, genuinely relieved to have the warrior with them for the trip.
The cool morning wind whips the Stag Lord's dragon cloak behind him, the obsidian claw bouncing like a thing still alive. He sits astride a great black destrier, looking to the northwest as if he could see his future. The familiar weight of his giant blade scabbarded at his back gives him comfort.
Nikolai has never been a man for reflection. His memories once comprised only of nightmares, his fantasies once only of death. Now, he muses on the irony. The former Stag Lord, murderer, rapist, and tyrant, now embarked with a band of heroes and friends to negotiate peace. Nikolai the barbarian, negotiating for peace. Two inconceivable concepts in one unlikely errand.
Of course, peace wasn't his final goal. The destruction of Choral would be significantly more realistic if the gathering army of trolls had to fight against centaurs instead of with them. The alliance between New Haven and Varnhold was secure, but both would be stronger if they secured peace with the centaurs. Peace with them might also mean more contact with the fey, and therefore the revelation of new enemies and friends, until this Summer Queen revealed herself. And then, Nikolai would kill her.
Courts and thrones and crowns. Peace today to make easier war tomorrow.
A barbarian last year. A king next year.
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Verik taps away with a work hammer on the wide wooden front porch of the Bank, absently shooing away a bug near his face in the interval between his labors. He hammers a heavy sheet of parchment to a thick reinforced wooden board upon the outer wall to the left of the front double-doors of the Bank, the parchment set with a waterproofed finish that helps its text to withstand the outdoor elements better. Upon the parchment is a proclamation by the Banker regarding a new law approved at the last Founder’s Council set with the Seal of Newhaven. It is set next to several other proclamations similarly nailed to the wall in times past, ones that hold special significance to the Banker.
The afternoon sun is late now and lowering in the sky to the west, casting a dazzling shimmering of light upon the surface of the Tuskwater, just visible beyond the edge of town. Verik pauses long enough to wipe his forehead and glance over at the young man next to him. Seated on a plan wooden bench near where Verik works is Taisper, seemingly paying little attention to his cousin as he focuses on opening and closing a mechanical contraption that Verik can only roughly guess is a lock of some kind; Taisper moves the mechanical catches and bolt with near-clockwork precision, practicing in a manner that appears to be simple for anyone to do, but in reality is far from simple. He moves through the contraption’s intricate steps repetitively, much as Verik would recite a mantra in his head. Once Taisper finishes the steps and opens the device, he closes it and starts over again, a slight frown of concentration upon his face. Wearing simple attire befitting a humble artisan, his legs are stretched out before him, wearing his favorite pair of shoddy brown boots, faded and threadbare to Verik’s consternation as the Banker had bought him fine leather fur-lined boots in the Winter’s Week of Kuthona, which were accepted but seemingly never put on. With a pang of irritation Verik notices his cousin wears an equally worn single brown laborer’s glove on his right hand, his left hand bare but either unaware or uncaring of that glaring absurdity. Verik shakes his head and returns back to hammering in the proclamation; there were just some things about Taisper that defied all comprehension. Wearing a single leather glove didn’t seem to lessen his cousin’s dexterity on the metal device though.
A few more taps and it was complete, as Verik critically examines his handiwork. The proclamation decrees any faiths desiring to operate in the Realm of Newhaven must declare themselves openly and secure a permit from the High Cleric of Newhaven, subject to the approval of the Founders’ Council, with harsh penalties should they fail to comply. Furthermore, it states any clerics or priests of established faiths must announce themselves openly to the High Cleric’s office if staying in Sanctuary for more than three night’s time. Well, with one noted and explicit exception to the Erastilians. Verik smirks at that last thought, remembering how irate Jhod was with the religious proposal at Council, Verik outmaneuvering him with a superior argument in citing the Gyronna incident, the man nearly frothing at the mouth by the end of that debate. In the end Jhod Kavken secured an ‘exception’ for the priests of Erastil, whom would declare themselves to Jhod instead of Verik. To Verik it really didn’t matter, other than the irritation that Jhod didn’t want to disclose how many priests of Old Deadeye there actually were in Newhaven. Nodding at the placement of his latest legal triumph, Verik turns back to Taisper.
”You can still come with us you know,” says Verik with all sincerity. ”Your company would be most welcome out there, what with Rogarvia sure to pursue his bloodlust and Jemini allowing him to run amok like she does.”
Taisper continues to focus his eyes on his metal contraption, though he shakes his sandy blonde hair and purses his lips in amusement. ”Nah Verik, I still have things I need to learn here, and then there’s the task you asked me to put together for your clerks.” He laughs then and looks at Verik with an easy smile. ”Besides, someone needs to mind the minders, you know?”
”I suppose,” answers Verik, noting that while his cousin has his usual easy smile, it doesn’t touch his eyes. In thinking about his response, he knows that his cousin is referring to Hal, for this will be the first time since his arrangement that most of the Founders will be away. Then again, Taisper could also mean Jhod Kavken. Or his own Clerks. Or everyone. Verik tries not to think about it. ”Well perhaps that skulker Grigori will appear and start up his usual antics, giving you a proper excuse to punch him in the mouth eh?”
Taisper laughs again, though his eyes seem even colder. ”Oh sure! That’s a good one cousin! It was his throat though last time. Actually, I have some new jokes I’ve been working on and a few that I’m sure Grigori would like.”
”Taisper…I don’t think that would be…that is to say that I would caution you to exercise discipline in…”
”Aww don’t worry, will you?” Taisper finally sets the contraption down upon his lap and gives Verik a meaningful stare. ”I know where the lines are drawn, and what is counterproductive.”
”Sure sure Taisper, sure I know you do, but he is skilled at manipulation…”
”Verik, I know fully well how skilled that one is at manipulating others, especially the innocent.” Taisper’s tone is hard, and a chill fills the space between them on the porch, but only for a moment before that easy smile falls back into place. ”Don’t worry, I have things in hand here. You just worry about not getting yourself eaten by trolls, okay?”
Verik smiles in return, glad to be on a different topic. ”Fine, fine. I’ll promise to not make myself a midnight snack, and you promise not to break all of my Clerks before I get back home.”
”No oaths to that, cousin.” Taisper chuckles, and this time the mirth does infuse into his gaze, the bond of blood strong between the men. ”You put me to task, remember? I know how hard to push. You’re too soft and doting on them anyway.”
”Soft? Their training regimen with myself and Bertram is quite sufficient for those not experienced in warfare, thank you very much!”
”If you say so,” shrugs Taisper noncommittally.
”You wound my pride cousin!” Verik waves a hand at him in mock irritation. ”I bet I could teach you a thing or two in combat now!”
”Hmmm…doubtful.”
”Phah!” He pats the warhammer stowed on his belt on his left side. ”Alright Champion, I know you’re fast, but my warhammer swings much faster than your bulky morning star…wait…you don’t carry it today do you?” Verik frowns at his cousin. ”What, did Ilyana get upset at weapons in the house with Nicholas again? I shouldn’t be the one telling you it’s unwise to be unarmed.”
”It’s okay Verik,” drawls Taisper almost sleepily as he returns back to looking at the device in his lap. ”I’m full of tricks you know. Resourceful like.”
”Well still…”
”Revered Banker?”
Verik’s admonishment is cut short by Thomas Quiss at the front doorway, Verik’s formal second-in-command and one of his two Senior Clerks for the Bank. Thomas looks hesitant to interrupt the discussion between the cousins, with a wary glance at Taisper that he tries to cover with a soft cough. ”Revered Banker, the day’s duties have been completed and the Clerks are ready to receive your instructions.”
”Excellent Thomas.” The concern over Taisper fleeting, Verik takes one last look at the proclamation firmly in place with the others and nods. ”Let’s go inside and see to it, then we’ll all walk to the Keyhouse for supper and evening devotions with the Initiates.” Thomas Quiss nods and heads inside. Verik straightens his vestments and prepares to follow, though turning first to Taisper still seated on the bench.
”You coming? It will be fun to see what the reaction is to our surprise for them.”
”Sure, sure.”
As Verik enters through the doorway and past the brief hallway into the main worship hall, he sees that the Clerks have finished the day’s business, everything put away in its prepared place, they themselves now standing in a line beyond the worshiper pews, each arrayed according to their rank. His Senior Clerks Thomas Quiss and Anya Amitel, with Full Clerk Eben next in prominence, and Junior Clerks Dannil LeVane, Casil Whitestag and Sulda Whitestag filling out the rest of the order. Verik stands in front of his Clerks to address them, with Taisper coming in to stand just a few steps behind and to the side of Verik. Watching. Considering. It is not lost upon the Banker that his cousin is apart from the Bank’s formal hierarchy, yet holding true power and authority over them all the same. Verik knew Taisper didn’t like the title of Champion when it came up, preferring just Master Stozs in most areas of direct address to him. Better Champion though than Hunter or Inquisitor, when the humble title of Master would not suffice.
The Banker smiled and addressed his Clerks, truly proud of them all. ”Right then. You have all performed superbly together in the recent Taxfest and Stagfall preparations, so I know you can handle the more routine responsibilities of the Bank in the next fortnight. Here are my assignments then, starting with Senior Clerk Quiss, who will be the Acting Junior Banker during my absence…” Verik goes into delegating assignments to each of them, having each take on at least one additional duty that they had not performed before, each according to their strengths. They nodded and accepted each stoically. At least until the last assignment, when Verik informed them that Master Stozs would be putting them all through twice-weekly calisthenics and weapons training. As anticipated, the combination of shocked faces and gasps was highly amusing to Verik, with only Eben taking it in stride, his age giving him insight the others lacked. After all, Thomas and most of the Clerks were afraid of Taisper to varying degrees, and each knew of his morning regimens that Verik periodically (and painfully) undertook. While his cousin’s plans for them would be nowhere near as rigorous as what he himself undertook, they didn’t have to know that. Taisper seemed to be enjoying the reaction quite a bit actually. Finally, as the sour looks started turning to meek complaints, Verik held up his hand with practiced sternness. ”Enough. Discipline of the body enhances discipline of the mind, and all of you need to be better prepared for the harsh reality of our existence here. Now let us pray to Abadar to bless our actions in upholding our oaths, and then we will walk to the Keyhouse…”
The Banker of Newhaven walks up the square to the Castle from the direction of the Bank, predictably carrying a full knapsack in one hand and his heavy shield with the etched and golden enameled key symbol in the other. Yet, this morning his appearance is strikingly different than in times past, as he wears a splendid and polished suit of full plate armor, the Absalom-enchanted breastplate with the matching key symbol as his heavy shield worked into the full set at some point during the winter. While Berrin's armor is similar to Verik's in grandeur and craftsmanship, the General of Newhaven looks more rugged and real in his, like he is ready to defend the walls or lead the army to battle in that moment. Verik's armor almost looks as if he came out of a story on the Shining Crusade or some Taldoran epic poem, grand but not exactly practical; the out-of-place nature of his engraved and enameled armor is accentuated by the clunk-clunk-clunk of his metal greaves over his riding boots as he walks up.
Behind Verik are two young lads carrying a stack of packs and bags, each an Initiate in the service to Abadar. Petyr Mikhalia makes no attempt to hide his yawns as he approaches, setting down a four-man tent and other assorted camp gear with an audible sigh of exertion. Ethen Hoefurrow carries his lot more easily and without fuss, having the looks of a strong boy long used to laboring on the farm, waiting for Verik to instruct him on where to stow the gear.
"Morning Berrin," greets Verik matter-of-factly as he approaches, then brightens as he sees the larger cold-breed horse in the courtyard. "Ah! You found Giles for me! He will do nicely...thank you Berrin. Virtue still has a problem with his gait you know."
The reference goes back to last Fall when Verik started training on the lists and swinging his weapon from horseback. His third attempt charging the list he got his shield-hand tangled with the bridle and pulled Virtue in to collide with the practice target, cleric and steed falling in a heap that Verik was lucky to escape with only a few bruises. Virtue was more seriously injured in his front legs; though Verik's channeling healed most of the damage, he could not bring himself to continue with the lessons for a time. Truth to tell, Berrin's knowledge of horses suggested Verik's steed could return in a month with treatment, making Verik's reticence much more about the attachment to his original 'Stolen Lands' steed that he wouldn't openly admit to. Berrin resolved the impasse by assigning him a larger draft horse, putting him in ridiculously heavy banded mail to get him used to balancing his weight on horseback. Virtue was relegated to use by the Bank as a reward for the Initiates of the Keyhouse when they performed well, and now had a luxury life of carrot-and-apple bribes by the Initiates that fattened him up.
With a gesture to the boys, they start packing the carried gear into the saddlebags, while Verik checks and secures his weapons on his wide leather belt, most notably a finely crafted warhammer that he favors over the mace he once used.
Nikolai eyes the sizable tent and impractical amount of gear. He considers a quip about the excess lances causing the injured horse to stumble, but decides the cleric's feeling might be raw from yesterday's argument. In any event, the antagonism of the banker, the Stag realized, sefved to teach him patience. Diplomacy seemed to require either patience or deceit, and Nikolai was unpracticed at either. It had taken a year to learn to stop swining his sword at the first impulse. Now he could learn to stop spitting curses at men.
That said, Nikolai could not resist a little practical advice. Sitting atop his great warhorse, he nodds to Verik. The centaurs will respect strength and hard living. Unless you plan on staying with them as emissary, I suggest you not bring all of that and live off the land.
He immediately stiffens in his stance, perceived even under all of his armor. "You see to your provisioning Rogarvia and I shall see to mine," retorts Verik with more venom than was appropriate for the early morning's quiet. He was about to add with what he thought about the "respect" of centaurs and living off of shrubbery when he brings himself up short. Why do I let him unsettle me before we even leave town? Another shout-and-threat match across the square and I'll have to deal with Jemini's look of dismay...maybe he is trying to be pleasant, absurd at that seems.
Verik clears his throat and turns to address him squarely. "Apologies Nikolai Rogarvia, as that was unkind and unwarranted of me." Hastily he adds, "And good morning to you as well." The Banker then abruptly turns back to his new horse, producing an apple for him from a side pouch of his knapsack as he checks the bit and harness straps. "The Master will provide for those that are careful and prepared, and so it is with me. I do not intend to have us without a proper encampment or caught in a rainstorm without shelter."
Berrin cringes as the two start up again, it didn't seem to matter what one said, the other took offense.
"Umm..Verik.." Berrin begins, deciding to step in but berating himself to stay out of it the whole time. "He, ah.. He's probably right you know. We'd do well to trust him on this, he probably knows them better than any of us. Cayden knows I couldn't begin to put myself in their shoes, myself. And, besides, it's not like this is your first outing Verik, you did just fine with us, without a tent, when we first started exploring these lands. You'll do fine Verik."
As Verik and Nikolai bicker - and Berrin, of all people, plays peacemaker between them - the crowd to see them off grows larger. Giving the group ample room to gather, the loyal subjects of Sanctuary watch and cheer as the larger-than-life figures prepare to ride out in defense of their interests. No one in the crowd seems to have any idea why the group is preparing to travel south, but that doesn't stop them from coming to see them off. By the time Jemini rides up on her horse, looking regal in her polished armor and the crown of office that Verik made for her, the crowd has grown to nearly a hundred. They clap and cheer for the Founders, begging their quick return and wishing them well on their quest.
The crowd parts with a bit of an excited, buzzing hush as Aylene Myrdal rides in her own armor through them. The headstrong boyara has the city wrapped around her finger with her bold declarations, with the name 'Aylene' becoming quite popular with newborn girls. They speak among themselves, asking if she is deciding that she instead wishes to ride out with the Founders. The fire-haired Aylene wheels her horse around, grinning at her husband. "I'll keep the city safe while you're gone, my love! Don't be gone too long, and don't go marrying a centaur princess while you're out! I know that is your type, but remember that you have a wife to come home to!" The crowd laughs and smiles at her unorthodox humor, clearly drinking in the lingering joy from the wedding.
With their goodbyes said, the Founders leave Sanctuary and ride to the south. The horseback ride to the river slips the time away quickly, and they are at the mouth of the Gudrin River within hours. Riding along the north bank (and keeping a close eye out for hydras), the five head towards their destination. The memories of the past - though just three of their number were on that first trip, and the others were their enemies at the time - begin to rise up from the mists of the river. For a little while, the worries and stresses of protecting a kingdom and its populace disappear and is replaced by the wonder and hope of their first venture into the wild unknown years before.
The five envoys from Newhaven ride along the north bank of the Gudrin River, heading eastward along the river's path. The ferryman's crossing at the mouth of the river remains abandoned. Apparently its owner - Davos Nettles, if memory serves - never returned with a new boat, and no one came to claim it. The thought strikes Verik (perhaps not for the first time) that they should set up a ferry and a tariff station there, but it passes as they ride the horses past.
They ride quickly to the ford, keeping the horses at a healthy trot. They obviously don't want to exhaust their animals, but the time constraints of the pending centaur-troll summit mean that they cannot dawdle or meander. They make it to the high ford, which seems slightly more well-traveled than the last time they passed through. The sudden flash of memory of the group's violent encounter with the hydra makes them slow to check the ford. While there seems to be no lurking hydras, the watery ambush gives them all a moment of pause. They can cross here and make the rest of the ride to their destination - at the Linnorm's Grave in the foothills southeast of Lake Silverstep - in the river valley between the Gudrin and Little Sellen. If they don't, they can take the longer route all the way around Lake Silverstep. Such a route will take a day or two longer as they skirt the edge of the foothills, bringing the total ride to three to four more days.
Picking up his customary place at the front of the group, Berrin tries to fall into the practiced rhythm he and Zander had found while leading the group through the wilderness the year before, looking for tracks, checking the weather and watching the surrounding area and picking out a path for the group to take, except that now the partner unexpectedly seems to be the ever silent Nikolai. The stoic former Stag Lord, however, still makes Berrin uncomfortable so his attempts at aiding serve no practical purposes for the groups progress.
Arriving at the ford Berrin's mind seems to be blocking up from the continued embarrassment of offering useless advice, after useless advice, and, what seems, a never ending stream of stating the obvious. Suffering Nikolai's cold stares was bad enough but Berrin got the feeling that the glowers were getting darker and his 'help' was only seving to make Nikolai angry, probably testing the barbarians patience to the extreme.
Drawing Valnyr to a halt at the ford Berrin's head clears as he recalls the hydra lairing here the last time they crossed and his eyes run from the ford and along the path before them.
"Wolves." he states after staring south for a moment. "A pair far to the south, moving slowly, probably a part of one of the packs Zander warned us about. There are certainly more in the river valley if we choose to go that route."
Surveying the nearby area he visualizes the area in his mind, recalling it from maps he'd studied.
"We have two routes open to us. We can skirt the foothills, adding two days to out journey, or we can make through the valley. Wyverns hunt along the shore of Lake Silverstep, it's teaming with rare fish and produces the best drinking water in the Stolen Lands, but it's shores are also ripe with predators." he states, staring into the distance. Turning back to the group Berrin gives a small start, realizing what he'd done; His advice and observations had actually been accurate and helpful! A grin creeps over his face at the realization.
The difference of one year. thinks Nikolai. As his large warhorse canters over soft ground, the barbarian considers the change in his perceptions. Last year he surveyed the land coldly, looking for game and wondering which of the Founders would try to kill him first. This year, he noticed things in the wild that he'd never yielded his senses to before. Birdsong. The regenerating cycle of clouds and rain and wet earth. He turns his attention to his companios and studies.Jemini humming to herself, no doubt enjoying the peace afforded by travel and by the cessation of Verik's complaining. He noted Berrin's efforts at tracking and scouting. Last yea, Nikolai would have punched out the warrior's horse and made him walk until he scouted correctly. This year, he saw something different. He saw that Berrin was learning, trying to help.
Nikolai notes his own changes and rides on. When he spots the distant wolves, he remembers there are probably others. He waits a minute to see if Berrin notices. As time goes on, Nikilai tenses. He resolves to mention the wolves if Berrin says nothing before that cloud passes over the sun.
His smile penetrates his normal expression when Berrin announces the predators. He rides up next to the fighter and reigns in toward him.
You've scouted well, today. Your practice shows. I think there will be more wolves, and if there are other predators, we ought travel by the lakeside. There might be danger, but if the game trails are quiet, we may be warned of troll scouts or other threats.
"You say wolves? Where?" Until just then, Verik was intent on watching the river, clearly concerned for any signs of another ambush at the ford. He holds his reigns in one hand and a scroll case in the other, whereupon he has just rolled up his field map for the tenth time since they set out; despite his concentrated efforts today to correlate landmarks on the map to real ones, the terrain has eluded him.
He maneuvers up a bit nearer where the pair are by the ford and peers in the distance, setting his hand above his eyes to screen out the sun for good measure. "Ahh. Yes I see the pair of pelts now, skulking about out there rather boldly eh." Verik nods as if ready to cross, then looks to each of them in turn, a questioning look upon his face. "You don't want to cross because of these wolves? Isn't the time to travel more pressing here? If it comes to a fight, dispatching these rabid beasts would aid trade caravans after all." Verik pauses then, his gaze intent as he seems to try and work out both Nikolai and Berrin's words. "You think the wolves are more than they seem? Spies for, or allies of, the trolls and their self-styled king?"
Nikolai reigns his steed to face his companions. If the lakeshore is fastest, we brave the predators. The centaurs will note from where we come. This company need not fear wolf nor wyvern. As I said, if we note less danger on the dangerous trail, we will perhaps see signs of a scouting force or other threat.
He looks over the mountains and foothills, and back to the wolves. Who holds these lands? The valley would host a tribe or an army. The lake would provide. The mountains are close. It would make a good fort. In times of peace, it would make an admirable grant.
Verik leans forward in his saddle, looking to the south as he tries to envision what Nikolai just stated. "Unclaimed, Nikolai Rogarvia. Unclaimed as many of these so-called Stolen Lands, except by the beasts I should think. Perhaps the last army to conquer these lands was the Taldoran Expeditionary Force, and that was centuries ago."
Interested Jemini asks of Verik, "Did they get to here? I hadn't realized that." For a moment calculations wander across her face, then she adds, "If they've indeed come this far, it may be worth our while to try and retrace their steps some time. The... - opulent ways that the Taldan empire now favors should not distract from the thorough nature of how they used to run their empire. I'd be surprised if there weren't more remnants of their effort somewhere. Lookout towers, the foundations of settlements, abandoned quarries, that sort of thing. I suppose there are invaluable reports that molder in some vault in Oppara."
This is good land. Fresh water. Farming. Game. Stone and maybe iron from the hills. This would be a great camp in we are forced to muster for battle. It should be claimed.
It was so different! Being out in the wilds again than being in the city. Although his vision remained the same, in Sanctuary, with buildings all around and his great familiarity with the city he was sworn to protect, his lack of distance sight was much less noticeable. Out here however, in the wild outdoors, the smallness of his bubble of vision was painfully clear.
Although accustomed to riding at the forefront of any expedition, Akiros is well aware that the current state of his vision would make him the very poorest of scouts and front linemen, at least while traveling.
So instead, ever a slave to duty, he takes the rearguard, where his lack of distance sight will not prove so much of an issue. Counting on Kydal to keep to the road and follow the others, the Akiros the Oracle keeps his attention on that which he can see, willing his vision to extend further.
As they come to a stop, he rides up closer to the others. Glancing in the direction indicated for teh wolves to be prowling through, he quickly glances away again, a hiss of frustration venting through his clenched teeth. Never would he be able to see things at such a distance with his Goddess cursed eyes! Were they worth it it, his new gifts? For the former Ronin, so used to being fully and completely self-reliant, the severe disadvantage of his limited vision weighs heavily on him indeed.
As always however, the dedicated Marshall of Newhaven pushes down his own feelings and personal concerns for the sake of the mission and his duty to see it through. "I see no debate in our chosen course whatsoever. Through the valley is quicker, and our mission allows little time for delay. So that is the way we go."
Although his inner turmoil causes his words to come out more terse and clipped than usual, he gives no explanation or apology for them, and merely waits, seemingly eager to continue along their way.
"Yes Jemini, I suppose there would be established records in the vaults of the old decadent capital at that. Fortunately, a fair account of those Taldan Expeditions were copied to the great libraries of Absalom at some point, and I was able to study copied excerpts from some of those copies before my own journey up the Sellen."
Verik furrows in thought, then snaps his fingers in recollection. "It was the...Taldan Fifth Expeditionary Army if I remember correctly. Yes, sometime just after the second millennium Abaslom Reckoning. Nearly all of the now-called River Kingdoms were known by them, and they pushed up through the part of Brevoy which you call Rostland, and certainly must have come across this way towards what is now Restov and even into Iobaria." He frowns a bit. "I don't fully recall but I think they met great hardship in Iobaria and turned back then." Verik shrugs. "In any event, your Rostlander houses have your basis in that Fifth Expedition and the Taldan settlers that came afterwards, as do the origins of your Aldori customs." He taps his finger upon his chin in thought. "Hmm, though I don't recall if the account of the exiled Taldan Baron was in the same century of the Fifth Army or some other century after that."
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Berrin stares from Verik to Jemini as they discuss the historic importance of the area, a frown creeping over his face as he ponders it's significance to their current situation. Unable to reach any conclusion he feels quite at a loss how to contribute to the discussion.
"Err.. interesting" he blatantly lies, "But, eh.. We're burning daylight." Looking to Akiros and Nikolai he shrugs and spurs Valnyr forward, crossing the ford.
"Ahh...yes of course Berrin you are quite right," says Verik sheepishly. He stows his map case and works to don his helm, an open-faced and slightly conical style with high cheek guards and skirted with chain to protect the neck and throat. He watches as Berrin crosses, a final guarded look at the waters of the ford before looking to see what Nikolai and the rest do.
Jemini follows in, after Berrin leads through the ford. The horses line up roughly in a line as they cross. Still, she keeps her conversation with Verik going: "I suppose we have the advantage of a relatively young and unsettled region, which lends itself to such haphazard conquest as we are doing. Mustering even several dozen men at arms already taxes our resources and discipline. Though I think Berrin and Akiros are growing by leaps and bounds at the task before them. Back in the more established nations that would require several years in the officer academy and likely also family ties that promote you past the lower echelons of authority. ...though... I guess it is one of the few ways that a person of low birth could rise."
Jemini sighs. "It really is a pity, it is hard for a man or woman to grow in prominence in a way that makes the world take note, without violence."