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"Good speaking with you as always Sub-Bishop." Valeriya says as she waves to the leaving man.
The drawings that the rest of her party mentioned interest her greatly. Drawings of a green woman... she muses a manipulator, but someone that Boris saw as a lover. I have a feeling that this green woman will be important.
"I would like to know more about this woman" she says, tapping a finger to her chin thoughtfully. "Lali, your suggestion of a being of fey nature is very intriguing, if the accused has been compelled by magic then this case is a wholly different matter." She pauses to think, but quickly resumes, realizing where she had left off. "Not that I believe that The Stag Lord is innocent, bewitched or not he has committed crimes against Brevoy, and he does not seem remorseful even now. Besides, I am the prosecutor, it is hardly my job to defend the accused. Still, if this green woman did convince him to do this, then she may be a threat in the future. Tell me anything else you might know, however beyond that I believe that I have all I need to make a successful case against the man." She stops her speech for a moment to look up the sentencing guidelines for this district, and continues. "If he is very lucky he will be flogged and then sent to prison or to a work-camp. More likely is death, a regrettable punishment, but sometimes necessary in the eyes of the Judge of Judges."
Luthor nodded his agreement at Kazimirs words. Strength and even fear had their place, but certainly not as any kind of basis for anything. That way lay disaster, surely.
At the mention of the woman, he shrugged. "I know a lot about a whole mess of subjects, and her being green isnt exactly a big help. I mean, the sheer amount of creatures out there that are green..."
"Like to know more?" Luthor said once Stavarov left, looking rather puzzled. "I mean, the only way that happens is if Mr. Stag actually tells us more, isnt it? Or maybe im missing something?"
Lali shrugs. "Dunno. Ask Perli mebbe? Or we needa find some kinda fae expert? Ain't my thing."
Temporarily stymied by the Sub-Bishop's request and how to meet it, the party heads to the trial of the former Stag Lord. The room it's slated to take place in is the Rock of Restov's chapel, a long, wide room with an arcing ceiling. Here and there, the trappings of Abadar adorn the furnishings, but for the most part, it's surprisingly spartan. Nor is it crowded. In fact, when the party arrives, only the Sub-Bishop, Lord Mayor, Jamanda Aldori, and one other Swordlord are in attendence, not counting a handful of guards. Even the lowest of whispers echo off the back of the near-empty room.
"The trial of Bors Sadowski of New Stetven, son of Nugrah Sadowski, will now begin." If small whispers echo, Jamanda's voice bounces from wall to wall. "Bring in the accused." On que, the Stag Lord, manacled hand and foot, is brought in to the room. "The accused is charged with numerous murders, thievery, and extortion on Brevic soil, with treason and sedition against the Brevic crown, and with armed rebellion against the same." She pauses. "Those in witness to these crimes are now encouraged to come forward and recount their tales."
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Valeriya sits in the courtroom surveying her notes. She has been meticulous in recording everything she knows about the case, and whilst she does not like referencing her notes in day to day conversations, court is a different matter. As she hears Jamanda begin to speak she gives a look to the various symbols of Abadar decorating the room and holds her hold symbol within her hand. Judge of judges ensure that a sound verdict is reached today she prays silently.
She nods at Nah's whispers and then stands.
"Valeriya Mikhailovna representing the prosecution" she says with a formal nod of the head to Jamanda. "I have assessed the charges leveled against the accused and find them to be right correct under Brevic law, and committed upon Brevic soil. If it pleases the court I shall present several witnesses, each of whom witnessed said crimes. In order to expediate the procedure I will present each as both witnesses to his crimes, and to the content of his character. I believe that this will be appropriate considering that it was due to their heroic activities that the accused was brought into custody in the first place."
She shuffles her notes before turning to her party. "You may each take the stand and speak of both the crimes and character of the accused. I am required by both law and virtue to remind you to speak only Abadar's truth so as not to disturb the sanctity of the court. Before you speak please swear to speak only the truth. As she finishes her formal speech she gives her party a smile, to assure them that this is only procedure, and that she trusts them to speak well.
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Laliytsa looks at the rest of the group, shrugs, and then bounds up to the stand. She raises her right hand and promises to ”Tell the truth, just the truth an’ that’s all.”
She makes a short but impassioned speech about how the Stag Lord was demanding tribute from people like Svetlana and Oleg, how he murdered and stole from anybody who passed through his lands. She talks about finding Cyanne, about Gralem and his travelers, and about the ”Damn hill fulla undead behin’ his base.” Since she’s the last of the original charter that’s still signed on she’s more detailed about their early encounters with the band; she figures the others can fill in the details on their more recent fights.
As a closing argument she says ”Back where i’m from we’da hung him by now. Some green lady bangin’ yeh and promisin’ yeh everythin’ yeh want just so yeh do her biddin’ ain’ no excuse fer murderin’ an stealin’ an piligin’ an’ all that. What he done ain’t right”
With Lali providing the early story of what happened, starting with the bandits’ ‘taxing’ of Oleg and Svetlana and ending with the battle at the bandits’ camp with Kressle, the party is able to put together a synopsis of their experience in the Greenbelt. Their encounter with the dead bandit in the spider’s lair; Svetlana stumbling into their camp while chased by bandits; the desperate race to relieve the siege at Oleg’s; all this paints a picture of what Bors Sadowski did and how the party had to deal with it. By the time they finish with the battle at the Stag Lord’s fortress, the Lord Mayor has clearly heard quite enough of it. ”And you, Sadowski? What do you have to say for yourself?”
For his part, the Sub-Bishop runs forward an argument similar to that of Bors in his conversation/confession earlier that day. ”The Stolen Lands, by all accounts, are uncivilizable. The fae...the wildlife...even those who live there...none of these wish to see cities and fortresses pop up along their rivers and hills. Why, then do we condemn someone for trying, and, in so doing, being entrapped by the very forces he hoped to bring to heel?” He continues, recounting the story that Bors told the party, along with a few details they hadn’t heard, presumably from Bors’s original telling. He finishes up with one more tactic. ”I don’t doubt that Bors did the things he’s accused of. What is at question, rather, is whether or not we should consider the Greenbelt’s shaky legal status.”
At that, the Sub-Bishop draws some glares from the Swordlords. Nevertheless, he continues. ”I’m aware of your claim, but that region is also claimed by your cousins in Mivon. Further, there’s a possibility that the Kyonin elves could still have a claim, despite their lack of real presence there. It would be foolish of you to think you stand unchallenged to the south. Perhaps, before sentencing this man to death, you should contact your rivals in the region?”
”Brevoy has no rivals in the Greenbelt, or in the Stolen Lands.” The Lord Mayor’s voice is low, with a hint of anger. ”Does anyone have any further argument to make?”
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Valeriya clicks her tongue against the back of her teeth. They make good points she thinks. The sub-bishop argues his case well, bringing the legal status of the greenbelt into question makes the argument very interesting. Nah speaks a great deal of truth in her words as well, and Valeriya realises that she would actually prefer a lighter sentencing to be handed down perhaps imprisonment or banishment. However she is the prosecutor, it is her job to argue against the accused, and she would only be harming justice by deviating from this role.
"Distinctions and boundaries can seem arbitrary to those not versed in the law," she says "but that is no excuse. If ignorance of the law was a defence then anarchy would reign. Whilst they are certainly complex the legal status of the various stake-holders in the greenbelt are all perfectly laid out in local bylaws." She goes into a long description of said bylaws, referencing several other noteworthy claims disputes.
She makes the murky ownership as clear as written laws allow despite the large amount of resources she needs to draw on, and concludes by re-iterating her main point.
"Your honour the crimes that the accused committed lie entirely within the bounds of Brevic law and as my witnesses have demonstrated have been malicious and cruel. Magical interference upon the client did not seem clearly present in any of my witnesses interactions with him, and therefore I do not believe it worth considering in regards to sentencing." She clears her throat and finishes "the prosecution rests."
Sub-Bishop Stavarov continues along his same line in spite of the Lord-Mayor’s bluster. ”It may be that there are no other legal claims to the Greenbelt, Lord-Mayor Sellemius. However, it would be wise not to treat those powers that be as though they were docile kittens. The elves of Kyonin are far away, and look inward, but their colony in Hymbria moves ever closer to reclaiming Sevenarches, and from there, it will look north past Mivon. Further, word has reached the Church of growing strength to the west from Pitax. Make light of the feuds in the River Kingdoms at Rostland’s peril, and at Brevoy’s as well.”
He continues, pressing into a legal case regarding the former group of bandits known as the Iron Wraiths. ”You will remember their work in Medvyed lands, of course. And, after their capture in Neth of 4707, they were brought before the Lord Regent, who pardoned them and sent them into war against the Iobarians, to great success. It may well be that Bors Sadowski, in spite of his claims to green women near rivers distributing kingdoms, would have become a loyal servant of Brevoy. Alas, we can never know unless we give him an opportunity to prove that. In that regard, I would ask that Bors Sadowski, former lord of the Greenbelt…” He says this last with a slight tinge of sarcasm. ”...be either executed swiftly or sent to one of the Great Houses of Brevoy to do with what they will until they determine his merit. Thank you.”
”The Hall will now be cleared for justice to be determined. All parties will be informed of the verdict when it is decided.” Jamanda gestures at the door and guards swiftly remove Bors, who glares at his defender, spewing profanity the whole time he’s dragged back to the cells. The Sub-Bishop follows other guards out of the room, then stops outside the door to wait for the party. ”In spite of his nature, I do not think he deserves death, but it is the customary punishment unless excepted by one of the Great Lords or the Lord-Mayor of Restov.”
A few minutes pass before Jamanda steps out. ”Do you have a few moments later this evening? We should discuss your new positions as representatives of the Brevic Throne.”
As the party files out of court, Kazimir breathes a deep sigh, letting his shoulders sag and his unusually stiff posture relax. "So this is your justice?" he asks Valeriya, glancing behind him to the room he just left. "It's so... cold."
As Nah pipes up to Jamanda, he looks down at the kobold before nodding. "As she says, we had considered meeting up with some former companions, but nothing has been set in stone yet. We can make time for such... business."
Valeriya looks vexed as she walks from the courthouse. She is not certain whether she is happy with the results of the trial. Certainly she did the best she could to represent the prosecution, but she dearly hopes that a great house claims Bors, not sure herself that he deserves death.
Kazamir's words seem to at least slightly echo her thoughts, but she is secure the the knowledge that this path is righteous to Abadar, and therefore reponds.
"Yes, more so than I would like some times, but as prosecutor I must argue against the accused, just as the sub-bishop argued in his defense. If either of us held back our arguments then what would be the point of the trial?No, justice lies in the choices of the judge and jury, in this trial it was above my station to be warm." She hopes that she has explained herself well enough, and turns to her attention to Jamanda's invitation.
"Certainly" she says distractedly.
"I imagine so," she says in response to Nah's question,"though I suppose the great house themselves will have to choose what exactly to do with him.
”Your friend’s people would have hung him, Kazimir, without letting the Master of the First Vault have his part in things. It would have been a hot justice, and one that often breeds hatred and resentment when its use is flawed. Abadar offers a process that cools emotions and allows reason to take hold.” Sub-Bishop Stavarov nods before stepping back to allow Jamanda the group’s attention.
”You won’t need to eat prior. If you’ll arrive at The Rock of Restov, we can discuss these matters over supper. The Lord-Mayor won’t be in attendance, of course, as you’ve given him plenty to take care of today. Sundown would be a fine time to meet.” The woman turns and moves smartly back into the keep.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Perhaps an hour later, the party is led, not into a fine dining hall with tapestries and music, but into a small meeting-chamber. The wooden slat wall covers have little gaps, and sound seems to die as it hits them rather than echoing. Aside from the walls, the only feature in the small room are a dozen chairs and a table, on which is spread a meal of roast pheasant, potato, and a fine red wine marked “Sarain, 4690”. A note sits on the table, just next to the pheasant: ”Please feel free to start. I needed to pick up a few things so we could have an informative discussion about your rights, obligations, and responsibilities. - J”
It takes a while for Jamanda Aldori to arrive, and when she does, it’s with a gaggle of children. Each is dressed in servicable clothes; silk-and-wool shirt, thin leather pants or woolen skirt, and a tabard with the dragons of Brevoy quartered with a silver sword. They troup in, sitting quietly on a row of chairs up against the back wall. Two of the boys share a quick joke, while the two girls stare at Nah with wide eyes until the blonde one leans over and whispers something in the chestnut-brown-haired girl’s ear. She gasps, and Jamanda looks over her shoulder to give them a glare. The last boy, who sits apart from the two jokers, simply looks down at his hands as he moves his fingers back and forth.
”I’ll be as thorough as I can be, while also keeping things brief, since none of us want to still be here talking tomorrow. In the letter we gave you last night, one of you was given the title of Baron in return for your work in the Greenbelt. A good ruler, however, has advisors. It would be wise if the one chosen was accompanied by, at the very least, someone to lead what military your barony deems necessary, a councillor to help spread his or her word to your people, a representative of one of the faiths of Brevoy, someone to help oversee how education works, a few people to enforce order, and someone to keep watch over the kingdom’s finances. You’ll also likely need a person here in Restov to maintain ties, and quite possibly a spymaster, though that’s a bit less...tasteful. I trust you’ll be able to find suitable people, and if not, we have a few other candidates in mind. Any ideas thus far?”
”Just keep thinking about it. There’s no need to rush into assigning jobs, and there’s plenty more to be done besides that.” Jamanda unfolds another bit of paper. ”Now...the next bit to discuss. We can’t support your new barony financially. We’d thought to be able to, but the Surtovans preempted us by sending their updated charters. We have a plan to deal with that in place, though.
In one weeks’ time, representatives of the Great Houses, the four major faiths of Brevoy, and a smattering of other, more private, organizations will be arriving here, in Restov. They’ve been informed of the success of our Maegar Varn to the east and Baron Hans Drelev to the west. They’ll be informed of your successes as well, and will no doubt be interested in investing in your success. They may have conditions you’ll need to meet, and I doubt court intrigue is your strong suite, so we’ve taken the liberty of providing a handful of pages. If you’d prefer not to have their services, we understand, but they’re trained in some of the intricacies of Brevic politics that you, frankly, are not.” She signals to the children, who stand. ”Tiphane, with Miss Iansoh, Bethanne, with Sister Valeriya. Vasek, with Kazimir, Cestmir, with Luthor, and...Orrel, with Nah. I’ll confess, we’d picked them out for more...human people, but he’ll figure it out. Orrel’s a fast learner.”
"Hmmm" Valeriya strokes her chin in thought. Well it's true that I was only performing minor functionary tasks here. Whilst I was only officially assigned to assist you in the role of prosecutor, I would be more than happy to continue being of help. I believe that once they arrive I will be able to adequately negotiate with Brevoy's religious authorities." She stares off into the distance, as if thinking of the future as she continues more softly."After that who knows..."
She blinks her eyes and returns her thoughts to the present day. "In any case, whilst I am decently versed in Brevoy politics I can hardly turn down a chance to educate.
She calls Bethanne forward and returns her curtsy with a practiced one of her own before kneeling down to bring their eyes level."No need to worry Bethanne, you're not going to muck anything up. I'm Valeriya, I work in the clergy of the Judge of Judges. What do you like to do?
"Vasek Brennen?" Kazimir asks, folding the note and tucking it into a coat pocket. As he holds one hand out to the boy, he attempts to subtly shift his collar with the other, not wanting to frighten him with his scar. "I'm Kazimir. I suppose that's "Baron" or "Sir", now, but..." Why is this so hard? he asks himself, rubbing his forehead. "I suppose you can call me whatever you feel like. Or, Kaz. How about you call me Kaz?" After an awkward pause, he chuckles. "Something tells me you know far more about all this than I do, Vasek," he mutters.
Lali suppresses a full body shudder at the idea of attending a ball. "Yep, gonna skip that" She smiles at the young girl, pleased that this young charge isn't going to try and persuade her to join the dreaded social gathering. "Think we're gonna get 'long jus' fine. Sworldlord teach yeh anythin' 'bout huntin'?"
Jamanda clears her throat loudly, and the pages fall silent and go back to their seats. Once it’s quiet again, she continues. ”Your pages are to get you prepared to be in the company of the Great Houses. They’ve been trained on court rules, style, and the basics of House politics. However, the decisions you’ll be required to make are up to you. I know for a fact that Lord Gurev Medvyed will be attending personally, but most others will be sending children or other relatives. You would do well to learn something about the Great Houses and their ambitions before they arrive.”
She stands, her plate sparkling clean and her wine glass untouched. ”Enjoy the meal, and then I’d recommend you get to work. There’s much you’ll need to do to prepare to rule.”
"Academic type sounds about right." Luthor agreed with a nod, accepting Cestmirs offered handshake. "Truth be told I just like to read though, theres never been a professional motive, though most of it sticks with me regardless." At the comment about getting along, he raised an eyebrow and smiled. "I get along with most people, but lets give it a moment before making unfounded predictions. Not that I think youre wrong."
Releasing the handshake he pursed his lips. "That library extensive? I find its good to know good places to look when theres something I need to research."
"Well there's no need to worry then because you're not going to muck anything up" Valeriya says with a smile and then stands to continue talking with Jamanda.
"Yes of course, that shouldn't be an issue" she says after listening to Jamanda's proposal."If nothing else I can help to secure funds and assistance for the rest of you" she says looking at the rest of the party. I was influential in the capital for a few years and if all else fails the clergy tend to get afforded at least a modicum of respect."
”The ‘fancy humans’ prefer the terms “promenade”, “discuss”, “gossip”, or, in your case, “fraternize”, but yes, “hobnob” covers the basic idea. Your pages will see to your educations. There’s much to be done, and the time to do it dwindles, so I’m afraid that I won’t be able to eat with you. A guard will escort you out of the Rock when you’ve finished.” Jamanda turns on her heel and heads out the door she came through, with two guards following behind.
An hour later, the guard takes the party to the gates of the Rock, followed by their gaggle of new pages. It’s a quick walk to the Riverdance, where the pages find an assortment of nooks and crannies for sleep.
The sounds of a scuffle in their private common rooms awakens the PCs the next morning. Some of the pages struggle to contain a boy of perhaps thirteen, while Orrel breaks the seal of a letter. ”He came in through the window. Said he was to give this to you only. Definitely addressed to you.”
C and D
”She said you’d - oof - give me gold for my trouble, or at least some coppers” The boy struggles to say anything with a swarm of pages trying to contain him.
"Well done," Kazimir nods, blearily taking the letter from Orrel. Reading it, his eyes narrow, then widen in surprise. "Release him," he commands, retrieving his coin pouch from his pack and passing the letter to Laliytsa. "Do you think...?" he mutters, digging around for silver.
Laliytsa reads the letter and snorts. "Eh, figures." She passes the letter on before turning to the group of pages, looking them up and down and sizing up the boy they were trying to hold down. "Hmm. Needa teach yeh some holds, mebbe some basic grapplin' skills. All oughta be able to take down someone his size."
"Are you alright" Valeriya asks Bethanne before giving the letter a quick look over. "Friends your yours?" she asks, with a raised eyebrow.
”Yeah, but he were...he was slippery. Couldn’t get a hold of him at first.” Tiphane flushes at the idea that the group of pages struggled with a single common boy, and the others bluster and grumble as well as they let him go. The boy collects a couple of coins from Kazimir and then disappears, looking over his shoulder to make certain there’s no pursuit from the clearly-too-aggressive children.
Whatever the information, Cyanne and Daen take their sweet time contacting the party. While they wait, their pages take them around Restov, educate them on the nobility of Brevoy, and show them some of the sights. One day, however, Nah is gone with only a single clue as to her whereabouts; a dozen or more separate sets of kobold tracks lead to a hole in the Riverdance Inn’s wall. The hole ends outside, where the tracks are quickly covered by those of the day’s business. Other than this incident, the days are monotonous. The stink of fisheries, slaughterhouses, and too many people living together. The sounds of beggars and merchants shouting and whining.
The evening of the 25th promises to be different. It’s another meal at the Riverdance, with too much singing of bawdy drinking songs and too many people in the common room, when at the entrance to the tavern, the party spots a pair of familiar faces.
Daen and Cyanne move quickly through the crowd and join the party at the table without any sort of preamble. Daen pulls a hood back off his head, looks Kazimir, Luthor, and Lali over, then turns his eyes to the newcomer. ”Can we trust her?”
”Of course we can trust her. She’s friends with Kaz and Luthor and Lali. It’s good to see you again.” Cyanne slides into a chair across from Lali, and looks poised to try to catch up when Daen interrupts her.
”We don’t have a lot of time. My cousin thinks we’re visiting Cyanne’s old teachers at their academy, but we don’t think he knows exactly where that is. If he gets word that we’re here, or if his people figure it out, he’ll know something’s going on.”
Cyanne interrupts. ”What my Rulanir is trying to say is that as much as we’d like to stay and talk, there’s simply no time. We know more or less what you’re about to have to do in terms of negotiating with the Great Houses, and we’ve compiled notes from Daen’s time working for Leo and my time in the local taverns. We’ve got information on Houses Surtova, Orlovsky, and Medvyed...or on their representatives, rather, as well as on the Pharasmic and Abadarian representatives.” She pulls a sealed scroll out of her cloak and sets it on the table.
Earlier: "Yes, well done." Luthor agreed, nodding. "But maybe in the future, refrain from taking such matters into your own hands? While it may not be relevant in the now, theres no telling what types might come knocking in the future, and Id rather not have any of you getting hurt on our behalf."
He looked at the letter, brow furrowing. "Short and sweet, and just a bit ominous."
Now: Luthor smiled wide upon seeing the pair, even going so far as offering them a shoulder hug, one arm for each. "Good to see you to." He answered Cyanne, smiling again, grabbing his mug and raising it in salute.
"I wouldnt worry about Valeriya." He said, taking a drink. "Even if you dont know her personally, her affiliation should dispel any doubts on that front." He looked at Valeriya, then conspiratorially leaned towards Cyanne and Daen, whispering loudly for the whole table to hear. "Abadar." He curled one index finger back and forth, pointing at Valeriya, straightened back up in his seat, and took another sip. He looked around the table at everyone, smiling.
As the scroll was placed on the table, Luthor simply stared at it. "No time indeed." He muttered, picking up the scroll case. He looked at them. "Thanks for this." His expression softened and he smiled, though his worry shined through. "This will be very useful Im sure, but I have to say I dont much like the danger you might be putting yourselves in the give it to us."
"Yes indeed," Valeriya says as she is called forward "As Luthor said I am a representative of the Clergy of Abadar. Nice to meet you." She holds a hand forward to shake and then withdraws somewhat.
Saddened by Nah's disappearance - he'd grown rather fond of the little kobold, teaching her to ride a pony and hold an axe - Kaz buries himself in trying to absorb Vasek's lessons and insights. Though he spends most of the time entirely baffled and overwhelmed, he stays at it, reminding himself of the importance of humility and an open mind.
Seeing Daen and Cyanne is an enormous relief, and he also nods to vouch for Valeriya. "She was useful in the Stag Lord's trial," he explains. "She's been of great help during our time here." As Luthor takes the scroll, he adds, "And she may provide us with a further edge when we deal with the temple."
"Well, if she's with the Church, then she's probably got more information on their motivations than we do. However, we do have a few more bits of information you might want." Daen looks around the room. "I suggest we head upstairs. Too many people."
Once the party, Daen, and Cyanne are upstairs in their suite, Cyanne relaxes a bit. "Some of this is covered in the sealed notes, but here goes. Lord Medvyed arrived yesterday, and he's spending his time in the Medvyed's estate in the center of the city, near the bathhouse. He seems to enjoy the bottle, but he hasn't visited any taverns yet. For all we know, he might have brought his own supply. His daughter's coming with him, as well...Naritha. She's a druid, pretty reclusive, but she's here anyways."
Daen speaks up. "In addition to my cousin, who's representing Surtovan interests, the Orlovsky representative is here. Akilina's been here for a few days now, and she's spent most of her time either in her quarters in the Rock or at the Square of Blades, watching the duels. Her bodyguards have been hard-pressed to keep her away from the would-be-Swordlords there. Her family's almost certainly looking for allies, since their constant not-quite-war with the Lodovkas to their north hasn't left them as powerful as they look. They might be eager to cut a deal."
"Now..." Cyanne starts again. "What's your plan for your little barony? How do you intend to run it? What are you going to do about the kobolds? Chief Sootscale seemed like he was trying to expand his territory, and if it runs up against yours, you could have a little war."
Once they're in private Lali hugs both Cyanne and Daen, though she also ruffles Daen's hair just to see him scowl. She takes a seat and listens to the pair's analysis.
"Hmm...hopin' it's gonna be ok with Sootscale, Nah bein' with us fer a while's good. Far as how we're gonna run it, we ain't talked a whole lotta 'bout that. Clear out bandits an' nasties, make it a safe place fer people to live. I wanna look fer an' old bitta family land too...that bit's personal."
She looks around at the rest of the group, thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. "We ain't exactly a buncha fancy political fancypants noble types. Gonna run it best as we can. Guess we oughta talk to Medvyed an' this Akilina both eh? Havin' a Druid on our side'd be good."
”Hmmmm. Chief Sootscale seemed like a reasonable leader. What’s less known is how long he’ll stay in power.” Daen looks toward the door impatiently. ”We need to move.”
”You’re right.” Cyanne gives a hug to those who want it and then stands. ”I would consider starting with Medvyed. From most accounts, he’s been a neutral player in Brevic politics, but his background seems to show he’d be interested in your barony. As for Akilina, I’m not sure where she comes down, politically. Probably on the opposite side of the table from the Lodovkas, but who knows. We’ll be in touch via letter, but it might not be as often as you’d like. You’ll need eyes and ears here in Restov if you’re to run your own barony.” She waves goodbye, and Daen and Cyanne slip out of the Riverdance and back into Restov’s busy streets.
House Surtova: The Surtovans have a single goal; to solidify power in Brevoy and become the legitimate rulers of the kingdom. They’re flexible, using their already-immense power in dealing with those weaker than them and promises and deals to negotiate with the Great Houses. They’ve forged a tentative alliance with the Lebedas, and managed to make deals to keep the worst of the Lodovka’s raiding parties aimed at House Orlovsky, who they’ve had conflict with for years.
House Orlovsky: House Orlovsky is a family on the edge. Politically isolated in the North in their opposition to the Surtovas and bled nearly dry from constant small-scale fighting with the Lodovkas, they’re looking for friends in new places. Of course, an alliance with a small southern barony wouldn’t help them that much. They’re more aligned with House Garess than the others, but their relative distance makes things difficult for them.
House Medvyed: House Medvyed is perpetually out of money, despite sitting on a stockpile of wealth in the form of the Grozni Forest, the largest forest in Brevoy. Their chief interests are in keeping their people safe and prosperous, a goal they’ve maintained, rumors have it, by deals with the powers that reside in that forest. Whatever the truth, they’ve maintained a careful neutrality for almost a century, a neutrality that’s made it difficult to enact any political change in Brevoy as a whole.
Pharasma: Most of the Great Houses are split between Gorum or Abadar as patron deities. However, the common people in almost every region lean more toward worship of Pharasma. Unlike her Ustalavic depictions, Pharasma in Brevoy is less concerned with death and more with cycles. The harvest, the cycle of life, and the inevitability of death all play a part in common Brevic life, and her priests focus on how best to benefit the commoner over the lords. The representative of Pharasma is likely Sister Andreiko, a young halfling acolyte with a keen eye for both her people and the downtrodden.
Abadar: Beyond what Valeriya knows, the only confirmed information on Abadar has to do with their representative. It is, in fact, Sub-Bishop Seltov. Despite protests from New Stetven, he was the closest representative, and no one else could get to Restov quickly enough.
The heraldry of Brevoy, mixed with the sword of Restov, flies from the parapets of the Rock of Restov. It hangs on long woolen banners down its towers and is emblazoned across the tabards of the guards at the keep’s gates. The party’s pages spent the morning and early afternoon making their masters look presentable, complete with shopping for suitable clothes, the right jewelry, and shaves, cleaning, and shoes. Now, as the sun falls behind the towers of the Rock, the Swordlords’ reception begins.
The (WARNING, SOUND) sounds of music and polite conversation waft through the entry-room, interrupted by a herald announcing guests as newcomers wait in line. ”Anton Garess of House Garess, Third in line to the title.” An older man perhaps twenty people up makes his way past the herald. ”Akilina Orlovsky of House Orlovsky, and...accompaniment.” A young woman leads a starstruck-looking man into the ballroom. The names continue.
”Daddy! Daddy! Are they going to announce my name, too?” A girl of perhaps twelve in a silk dress pulls on her father’s hand just behind the party, but before he can say anything, a man somewhat in front of them clears his throat. ”Maegar Varn, keep your whelp quiet. I won’t have my entrance spoiled because your child’s a mannerless heathen.”
The girl’s father shushes her, then looks to the party. ”Hullo. Maegar Varn, formerly Maegar Varn Aldori, and my daughter, Alitsi. You’re not with Drelev...excuse me, Baron Drelev of the Hooktongue, and you’re not a usual noble, so I surmise you must be my neighbors to the west. It’s good to meet you, and I hope we’ll become close friends.” An elf right behind him rolls his eyes, but says nothing.
The line continues moving forward. ”Swordlord Teodor Koenig-Aldori, of Restov.”
"Mannerless heathen, is that intentional irony?" Luthor quibbed, instantly regretting it, a cold streak running down his back as he realized he hadnt simply thought as much. Not that there was any real danger, atleast not in the now, but who knew what a comment like that could bring in the future. He looked at the man, doing his best to not display his state, instead shooting him the best relaxed look he could muster.
Lali cleans up decently, although she complains about it the entire time the group is getting ready. She has no problem getting dressed up, sometimes it’s fun to look nice and dresses aren’t a problem, but being laced up into things that don’t allow you to breathe or move, much less fight, along with pointy shoes that hurt your feet is ridiculous. Toss in a gathering where you can’t say what you think, and where you have to bow down to snotty nobles that think they’re better than you, and everybody’s hiding their agendas, and you get something that should be reserved for a special lair of hell, not something they’re being forced to attend tonight. It’s the most anyone’s ever heard her speak at once.
Fast forward to the receiving line and she’s standing there with crossed arms and a sullen look on her face. Lali’s going to get through this evening as best she can, maybe talk to this Akilina since someone who’s a Druid might be a reasonable person.
She’s broken out of her thoughts by Luthor’s quip; it’s the first thing all day that makes her smile. She catches the eye of the young girl, turns so the rude man in front can’t see her, and makes a funny face while miming him talking.
In the half hour he's been standing in line, Kazimir has managed to mess up his own hair, pick a spot on the back of his neck until it bleeds, and tear the armpit of his own shirt by trying to lift his arms in the uncomfortable outfit he's uncomfortably buttoned himself into. Everything from the cravat to the vest to the pointy shoes feels too tight and close, and he's already seen more people than he's met in his entire life.
He feels sweat between his fingers, and goes to wipe them on his trousers before stopping himself at the last second. Instead, he rubs his hands together, which only seems to make things worse, and stiffly nods at Maegar Varn. "I hope so, too," is all he can manage before the other man turns away.
All Luthor's quip gets from him is a blank look as the wit passes over his head.
Valeriya looks at home among the prim and pressed crowd. She is dressed in a clerical outfit that whilst clean, tailored and sparkling with golden accents, is rather unfeminine, as she still wears trousers and a shirt even if they are shiny satin and largely covered by her ceremonial golden robes. The robes are silk, patterned with streets and keys, but even they have the look of business attire about them in their clean lines and close fit. A pin on her collar proclaims her position as a guest to this particular sect of Abadar, a organisational minutiae that anyone outside of the clergy is unlikely to notice, let alone care about.
As she stands waiting she seems to never be without someone to talk too, as people swing by to share a few words.
"Thank-you for helping with that broken leg" says a mother Valeriya only vaguely remembers. She sends the woman on her way, reminding her that she paid her fee and to thank Abadar not her.
"I was hoping you'd come see me about a land dispute," says an old man Valeriya does not know, although he clearly knows her reputation or position. "We'll talk more at a later date" he says before walking off.
Most are of this manner, simple pleasantries, she turns down any attempt at talking business, or at least delays it until she has gotten into the party proper. She rolls her eye's at the man's 'heathen' quip, finding it rather unrefined, and nods at Luthors retort. Honestly, is it so hard to be civilised?"
”No, it isn’t, sir. That child is uncontrolled and living in fantasy. She needs more discipline than her father has any desire to give her.” Varn and the noble in front of the party glare at each other, but he line moves forward until the nobleman in front of the party is next in line. The herald looks down at his scroll, finds the name, and reads it off. ”Baron Hans Drelev of the Hooktongue Slough.” He steps through the door into the reception.
”Baron Kazimir Vasilovich of the Greenbelt, Luthor Rowe, and Laliytsa Iansoh. Valeriya Mikhialovna.” The herald beckons you forward. Inside the room are dozens of nobles, but before anyone can move to engage you in conversation, the herald speaks again. ”Baron Maegar Varn of Varnhold, his daughter, Alitsi, and advisor, Caspar Morgarion.” The man behind you, his daughter, and the elf enter the ballroom, only to be immediately dragged away by Akilina Orlovsky, who starts chatting with Baron Varn, arm already hooked around his as they walk to a corner of the ballroom. Baron Drelev is already engaged in an increasingly-animated conversation with Leo Surtova.
Near the center, a young woman and even younger man stand in conversation. The man looks over, turns to the woman (who, in spite of blonde hair to his black, is clearly an older sister by their faces and eyes), and says something. Then, before she can respond, he walks quickly over to the party. As he nears, it’s clear that his face has never been shaven and that he’s little more than a boy. ”Greetings, and welcome. I am Lander Lebeda, the heir to the distinguished and illusory House Lebeda-”
”He means ‘illustrious’. Lander can be a bit of a fool.” The woman is older, though no more than twenty. ”Elena, his sister...and babysitter, at least part-time.” They scowl at one another. Meanwhile, the Garess representative clears his throat nearby, clearly hoping the Lebedas will go away, or at least pick one or two of the party-members so he can talk to someone.
Baron. It still sounds so foreign to him, like children playing at nobles. As he steps forward, past the herald, he's almost paralyzed by the sight of eyes turned to him, and for a moment he's staring into a pair of large brown eyes, as deep as oceans and wiser than any human could ever be...
Then, as the others step in behind him, he takes a deep breath and calls on an old memory of harvesting wheat, stroke by stroke. And with that same easy stride, he makes his way through the ballroom, back straight, his new shoes only slipping a little on the floor.
Taken slightly aback as the Lebedas approach, he spends a moment wondering what to do with his hands before deciding on keeping them somewhat awkwardly at his sides. "Kazimir Vasilovich," he responds, his tone stiffer than he'd like, "only recently granted title." He barely has time to think of what to say beyond that before the Garess representative clears his throat, and he suddenly finds himself with two prospective threads of conversation to follow.
After a brief deliberation, he turns back to mutter to Valeriya and Luthor, "Perhaps one of you would see to him while I see things through here? I doubt Lali would do it," he adds, noting that the woman seems even more out of place here than he feels.
Lali looks from Kaz, to the bickering Lebedas siblings, and over to Garess representative. She gives Kaz a quick pat on the arm and takes off across the ballroom.
Walking in this getup is still a problem and she can’t help but notice a few nobles that seem to find this amusing. She works very hard to keep her expression neutral, though she does imagine what they’d look like if she punted them into a kobold lair.
Lali gets over to the corner Varn and Akilina are in, but she ignores them in favor of Varn’s daughter. There’s an attempt to bend down to the girl’s level which is quickly aborted by the damn corset she’s been shoved into. She settles for keeping her voice low instead.
”Listen. Fat-head back there? Ignore ‘em. Miserable ol’ coot, tryin’a make errybody else miserable as he is. Don’ realize his version’a manners ain’t got no real manners at all. If’n I said somethin’ like that my great-granny’d rise from the grave an’ come get me. Person like that, don’ yeh worry what he thinks ‘bout yeh."
Speech done, she looks over to Akilina and Varn and offers them a small smile. "Wanna talk to yeh later, but ain't gonna butt in on yeh." Unless they stop her she's going to move and find a place where she can lean against the wall and observe what's going on around her.
"Greetings" Valeriya says, turning toward the Garess representative, pulling her robes straight with a practiced tug. "I am Valeriya Mikhailovna, of the Judge of Judges and currently on retainer as legal council for the Baron Vasilovich of the Greenbelt, how may I help you?"
She pronounces Kazimir's new title without hesitation, having only known him for a short while and being used to nobility.
Anton Garess looks for a moment as if he’s going to say something, perhaps about being passed off on a subordinate, but on taking in Valeriya’s robes, he shuts his mouth and follows her a short distance away, leaving Kazimir with the Lebedas. Lander opens his mouth, pausing when his sister clears her throat, then interrupting before she can say anything. ”I read mother’s notes, they said there was fighting in the Stolen Lands. What was it like ?”
”What are we supposed to be doing?” Elenna makes a shushing gesture at Lander. ”Our house is one of the greatest of the Great Houses, and we’ve gotten there by trading, and by not being picky about who our partners are. However, we’ve never partnered with someone with seemingly so little to offer. Tell me, what does the Greenbelt have, and what do you see it needing?”
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A few steps away, Anton Garess’s eyes open a bit as Valeriya introduces herself. ”Anton Garess, of the minor line of House Garess. If you’re a retainer, do you have the power to negotiate on behalf of your employer?” He shakes his head. ”No, it doesn’t matter. There’s plenty of time to talk with him. The new baron and his associates met one of my brother’s subjects in the Greenbelt, and for rescuing him, Lord Garess owes a debt to Baron Vasilovich. However, this is not the time for that.
“Our subject found several potential mines of silver and iron in the Greenbelt, but without our skills at setting up those mines, they won’t be profitable for years. Tell your baron that a deal could be negotiated to get those mines running more quickly, in return for some concessions on their product.”
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Akilina’s huff and crossing of her arms makes her annoyance at Lali’s interruption clear. Meanwhile, Maegar Varn looks relieved, especially when he sees Tiphane tagging along behind Lali. ”It’s true, darling, but I did ask you to keep your thoughts to yourself while we were here.” He turns quickly to Laliytsa, lowering his voice to a whisper. ”Listen, Alitsi’s interrupted Lady Orlovsky three times already. I know we’re supposed to be negotiating and everything, but I couldn’t leave Alitsi by herself in Varnhold, and Caspar insisted on being here. Could you and your page...I don’t know, watch her?” He looks embarrassed to ask, but quickly turns back to Akilina when she pulls on his arm.
Alitsi steps away from her father, looking a bit despondent. She sighs. ”I hope she’s not my new mother.”
Seeing that Lali’s unsure what to do with Maegar’s daughter, Tiphane speaks up. ”Hey, I used ta’ go down to the kitchens and nip some food. Real food, I mean, not wine and hard bread crackers. Let’s go there.”
"Fighting isn't all you may expect of it," Kazimir responds, his voice falling slightly amidst the general murmur of the ballroom. Don't think about the scar, he reminds himself, which of course doesn't help. "You may be young, with a head full of visions of glory, but it isn't like that. At all."
As Elenna directs her question at him, he realizes he hadn't planned for this at all, and racks his brains for an answer. "The Greenbelt has plenty of open land to offer, now set under my own watchful eye and that of my divine patron," he replies, not sure what more he can offer. "For ourselves, we are a small barony, and as such require protection and financial aid in bringing law to a lawless land."
Valeriya suppresses a small smile as Anton Garess notes her robes. She knows that it is hardly right to find pleasure in the authority granted by a position in the clergy, but sometimes it is simply nice not to be spoken down to by nobles. She nods along as he talks, raising an eyebrow as he mentions the mines.
"Well," she starts cautiously "whilst I cannot make decisions on behalf of the Baron Vasilovich I can certainly advise him and I believe the correct course of action is clear. Working together to operate these mines seems advisable, For does it not say in The Manual of City-Building:
All men are as unto ants
And as ants are nought lacking a hive
Men are only realised by the assistance -
Of an infinitude of friends."
She finishes her quotation and after a short pause continues. "I shall advise the Baron to give your suggestion due consideration, and I am sure that Abadar's spirit of co-operation shall show through. The Baron is a good man from my reckoning, and I doubt he will turn down the opportunity to further community spirit. She adjusts her robes and gives a sly smile before finishing "and that is without mentioning the economic benefits of such a partnership."