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A long line of wagons approaches the gates to Oleg's. Stretching out over a league or more, the train consists of supply wagons, cargo wains, and dozens of the covered version designed by the dwarven engineer Conestoga some years ago.
Two lines of armed guards in the two-headed dragon livery of Rostland ride on both sides of the road. There is a large contingent of them near what looks to be an armored wagon - heavy wooden construction with iron reinforcements.
A distinguished looking man rides at the head of the train, resplendent in a dark red traveling cloak on a gray palfrey. As he approaches the gate, he seems to take careful stock of the trading post and the surrounds. Just the faintest frown of disdain crosses his face before he sees you waiting. His face becomes a mask of neutrality as he rides up, and with practiced ease he drops from the saddle in front of you.
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The man holds out the reins of his horse, but when no one is there immediately to take them, he frowns again, then lowers his arm, still holding them. His eyes take in the scene coolly, appraising each of you as you stand around the gate. Behind him, the wagon train labors up the small hill to the post.
"Talia Khavortorov, I presume?" He says after a moment. "Certainly you must be, Lady. You match the description I was given, and you bear the fine features of your family proudly." He adds, sweeping into a low bow.
"I am Darrick Lebeda, formerly of Rostland, and I am sent here by the Lords of that realm to...assist you in your endeavor in this land. Is there somewhere in this...place...that we can sit privately? I have tidings that should be heard."
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Oh. Formerly. This is very good.
The family name, of course, needed no introduction. The Lebedas, a rising Rostlander House, wealthy and powerful, more powerful than her own, that was-
Oh. More powerful than my house. This is bad.
Talia stood impassively, offering the man a faint smile. "Welcome Lord Lebeda. I wish we had notice of your arrival. I would have ensured a room for you in the manner of which you deserve, and of which you are accustomed, I'm sure."
"As it is, things are a bit... more rustic here than back home. There is a small dining area in the Post's owners' home, which I'm sure they would abdicate for a meeting."
Turning, Talia shoots Oleg a look, the meaning clear, and makes her way inside. My office has crates for chairs! Don't argue!
Magna mostly ignores Darrick, and looks for Dwarfs in the newly arrived people.
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16 Desnus, the wee hours
Vosil looks up as Talia approaches, but does not immediately reply to her question; instead, he holds up the shirt, now expertly darned. "I have been lucky enough to get magical healing after most fights, so I have barely a scar - my lucky shirt is my way of remembering good victories. This and this are from the Stag Lord's arrows; this here, from a fight against gnoll raiders who were preying on caravans in the deserts of Osirion; this, from an orc warlord near the Hold of Belkzen; this, from some nameless experiment in Ustalav that we had to recapture intact for study."
He frowns. "But it is the marks that are not here that I remember most. This is not the shirt I wore when my ward, Natashya Lodovka, was killed in Taldor; that was cut to ribbons off my back as I tried to save her. She was a lovely girl, full of mischief, so full of life; she'd have adored Perlivash..." He trails off, blinking. "Her mistake - our mistake - was to play the Game of Houses; because of that, some noble had his thugs hold her down in the street and cut her throat - he didn't do it himself, of course. His hands are clean."
A grimace. "On a bad night, I get to experience it again. So you will doubtless understand if I am somewhat...jaded... about the nobility: I have seen all too well what they are prepared to do to hold on to power."
A thoughtful pause, while he assesses Talia, to see how she's taking this. "But to answer your question, the Surtovas are not just brutal - they are stupid with it. And that is unforgiveable. To take the throne without right, but simply by force?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "What example does it set? It tells everyone that might is right, that you can take what you have no title to, if you are strong enough." He holds up a hand, giving a wry smile as if to forestall the obvious counter-objection. "Oh, don't get me wrong, I have broken the law in the past; often! But I did not do so without fear of consequence, as if the law had no meaning, as if it did not apply to me. I just hoped like hell not to get caught." A flash, the suspicion of a smile; then it disappears. "And so, from the top of the country to the bottom, law - stability - disappears. What moral force prevents banditry when the rulers themselves are no better?"
His dark eyes meet - and hold - Talia's green ones. There is a long silence. "I owe you an apology, by the way, talking of nobles not sullying their hands. First time I met you, covered in mud, 'twas obvious you were high-born: your whole being might as well have cried I am , get me out of here! And I overlooked the fact: that you were covered in mud. You are willing to get your hands dirty. My mistake." He nods, slowly.
Enough answers. Time for some questions of his own, while she is still considering what he has said. "And so, Lady, what kind of ruler will you be? And am I working for you, or for the House that abandoned you here, and is doubtless now either waiting for news of your death so they may curry favour with the Surtovas - or scheming so that they may bring you, alive, back into their embrace? After all, as a young woman - of marriagable age - they will regard you as their chattel, will they not? Am I working for whatever husband they may choose to impose upon you?"
Again his eyes regard hers, probing intently. "Who exactly am I working for, Talia of House Khavortorov?"
To his certain knowledge, this is the first time that Vosil has called her by her name.
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Desnus 25
Standing no more than a whip-length away from Talia, Vosil watches carefully her interchange with Darrick Lebeda, and sees the calculations that he himself has made mirrored on her own face: a noble of high rank - higher than her own.
He coughs, politely, to attract Talia's attention, reminding her of Brevic custom. "Perhaps Lord Lebeda would care for refreshment? We have some Strolchnya in store; it would be traditional welcome, for a noble."
He too, does what he can to remember anything of the Lebedas, and this one in particular.
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And so it begins, Naralesh thinks as the noble joins Talia in privacy. The Stag Lord falls and the plays for power begin. I wonder what move the houses of the north are making now? The elf mused for a moment at the realization that he cared. I'm a player in these events now, he realized. Our little band of explorers has become something altogether more now that we've topped a bandit ruler and begun to stabilize these lands.
Talia nods, thankful for the interjection, though she hopes it doesn't play too much on her face. "Yes, thank you, Master Comarenza. Your finest Stroichnya, Oleg. Master Comarenza is a recent addition to our charter, but has already proven himself a sharp mind and a valuable friend of Brevoy. As has Master Godly here, who at the fort held off a wave of bandits, buying precious seconds for our artillery to lay groundwork for our victory."
Pausing for effect, Talia smiles, her mind spinning, trying to see all the possibilities at play. "Our artillery? There is Naralesh, once a farmer and now I'd wager the most accomplished mage in The Greenbelt. The man with the bow - he's Dregan Hircherz, without whose guidance we would have been lost in the wilds long ago. Master Coaltongue is... out of the Trading Post at the moment, treating with some potential allies to the south."
Talia raises her finger and points to Magna. "Looking over that wagon there, that's the Shieldmaiden Magnitofera Skeller, who struck the blow that ended the Stag Lord's life."
"And here is Asha Medvyed, a priestess of Erastil who has provided us spiritual guidance and much needed divine grace."
Giving Darrick her most winning smile, Talia takes his arm and begins walking towards the Post.
"All those men and women, I trust implicitly. And all have names on that charter. What can be said to me, can be said to them. The good news is, there is room in Oleg's for us all to hear your tidings. The bad news is, we'll need another bottle of Strolchnya."
Talia had learned much from her time in the theater. One very important skill was the ability to project emotions one wasn't feeling. The playwright hoped her mask showed confidence and warmth. The truth was, Talia was unsteady, put off-guard and on the defensive by this Lord's arrival. With just the two of them alone, she feared he'd be the smartest person in the room.
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Edric is not familiar with the complexities of Brevoyan politics, apart from knowing that there are complexities of Brevoyan politics. However he has spent long enough with both Taalia and Vosil to know when they are uneasy. He studies Lord Lebeda closely, before sweeping his gaze across the entourage, trying to read them.
As Taalia leads the newcomer inside Edric follows close behind. He makes a point of opening the door for both nobles and once inside positions himself slightly behind Taalia's right shoulder, choosing to remain standing rather than sit. From this position he studies the nobleman carefully, giving his mind the time to mull over all that he had seen outside.
Clearly a wealthy man, used to privilege and disdainful of those who are not. He probably respects strength as long as it does not challenge his own... although no obvious weapons so he expects others to do his fighting. What does he mean formerly of Rostland? Regardless, if needs be he can be restrained.
Despite his appraisal and positive assessment of the situation Edric can't shake the feeling that something was off when Lebeda arrived... but it wasn't Lebeda's men, it was someone inside the fort...
16-25 Desnus 4707
Dregan travelled on to his family taking the body of his brother with him.he lets the others know that Oleg can give them direction if he is needed urgently.
He returns as luck would have it earlier in the day that lord Lebeda and his party arrive. Dregan allows himself to be dragged along by Talia but his attention is the Lord's accompanying train of wagons. He is obviously in shock at civilisation arriving, but keeps his wits about him enough to keep an eye open for trouble.
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"Very well, Talia. I would normally require all the persons who are on this charter, but if one is missing, we will make do." He accepts Talia's arm and allows himself to be led into the common room of the Post. There Svetlana hurries about getting drinks of the Strolchnya, while Oleg grumbles but sets about the store. He is no fool, the wagons outside represent more business through the post than he would see in a year.
Once everyone is setaed, and drinks are passed, he speaks:
"The Swordlords are very pleased with your progress here in the Greenbelt. Events are moving quickly in the North, and they greatly desire a...reliable...neighbor on their southern borders.'
He chooses his words carefully, weighing them for impact. Clearly this a man used to the machinations of politics.
"To that end, it has been entrusted to me to bring you this..."
From a leather case he carries over his shoulder, he produces a scroll. The wax seal bears the symbol of Rostland. He breaks the seal, rolling out the scroll so as to read it:
"Be it so known that the bearers of this charter, having delivered the northern reaches of the Greenbelt from the scourge of banditry, having provided detailed maps of the lay of the land, and having done no small amount of work in the exploration of said land and the culling of hostile monsters and indigenous hazards, are hereby granted the right to rule. The nature and laws of rule are theirs to define, and the wellbeing of this new nation is theirs to protect. In accordance for providing a stable nation to the south of central Rostland, let there be a generous stipend of funds, support, and advice provided to this fledgling nation as a token of Restov and Brevoy’s goodwill, such that future relations between kingdoms might be mutually beneficial. So witnessed under the watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and by the authority granted by Lord Noleski Surtova, current Regent of the Dragonscale Throne."
When he finishes, he lays the scroll down so everyone can read it.
"I have been sent here to assist you in this effort. The people and resources out side are to help with your...our...start." A broad smile breaks across his face.
"So. When do we begin?"
There is silence in the common room as the weight of what Darrick has said sinks in. Then Oleg lets out a low whistle.
"Guess things'll be gettin' busy around here." He whispers to Svetlana, just a little too loudly.
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House Lebeda is based to the southwest of Lake Reykal in Brevoy, controlling the plains and significant portions of the lake's hipping.They are considered to be the Brevic noble family that epitomizes Rostland, having significant Taldan blood, an appreciation for fine things, and a love of sword fighting.
Their castle, Silverhall looks over Lake Reykal and is where the family maintains its power. They control the shipping on the lake; their business of being brokers and merchants linking the north and south of Brevoy has made them rich.
Dame Sarrona Lebeda currently leads the house as regent until her son Lander comes of age. The oldest child, Elanna, is the house's representative in New Stetven; rumors say she is trying to arrange a marriage with the king.
The family's crest is a swan on water with the sun on the horizon. Depending on how the house fares, the people say the sun is either rising or setting; currently most people say the sun is rising. The family motto is "Success through Grace."
The name Darrick Lebeda does not ring any bells, but you have heard of a member of that family who is more than a little critical of Elanna's efforts to bind the Lebedas to the Surtovas.
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Talia takes a quick sip of Strolchnya to hide her grin, slowly growing, as the Lord Lebeda keeps talking. Assist... your... Darrick keeps putting himself in a subordinate position to us. Must have orders from his House to do so...
"Thank you, Lord Lebeda, for your assistance as we embark on this journey together. You raise an important question. What next?"
Looking around the room, Talia smiles, noting that on some level, this moment was exactly what she'd been angling for in one way or another - not quite since she arrived here, displaced - but soon after. It was time to make her play. Taking a deep breath, she continues.
"Everyone assembled in this room is exceptional, there is to be no doubt of that. The Lord here is obviously astute with the Game of Houses. While not as political, I've found Edric to be a generous and kind soul, well-suited to negotiation and mediation. Vosil is inquisitive and sharp-minded. Not much has escaped his shrewd gaze since he's joined us. Naralesh is - as I stated earlier - the finest mage in the Greenbelt, and one of the most intelligent people I've ever met, with a keen mind always searching for more to learn. Asha is as devout as the summer day is long, and wise to boot. Dregan, more at home in the wilderness than anyone else here, is well suited to taming these wild lands. Kesten is a leader of men, a protector at his very core. And Magna is the most fearsome fighter I've seen in my life."
"As for me, I can offer this... neighbor of Brevoy something that it needs, and something that no other charter member has. Legitimacy. Ties that bind it to its mother country. My family, though not as storied as Lebedas, is growing in influence. They can provide for people, funds, guards, and perhaps most importantly, influence among the Swordlords, so that our northern neighbor will remain friendly."
"And, there is something else. I have been studying government for much of my life, both directly, as befits a noble, and indirectly, in writing for the stage. I have ideas. I mentioned before my first proposal: Two arpents and a plow. Anyone that swears fealty to us gets land, an arpent or two. Land they can farm themselves, or sell to another, but once fealty is sworn, it is theirs to do with what they want, in return for their loyalty to us, agreement to pay a fair share of taxes, and militia duty."
"This is my second proposal: Let me rule, as a Countess, over this Stolen Land, with your assistance and wise council. This 'Wise Council,' consisting of the charter members, Kesten, and Lord Lebeda, would have as its mission the noblest of endevours; the protection and advancement of our sworn citizenry, the betterment of theirs and their childrens' lives, and on through the ages, until our Viscounty is the shining example of all the lands of the Inner Sea."
"I've used the word 'noble' a few times, for our goal should be to rule nobly over our subjects. And that leads me to my third proposal: Every member of the Wise Council should be noble, so that we can best embody the virtue of our new land. As Countess, it would be within my power to entitle each member of the Wise Council, which, although it is my third proposal, would my first act. What say you, Lords and Ladies?"
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16 Desnus, the wee hours
Talia leans against the Post's outer wall as Vosil speaks, arms crossed, her annoyance at his circular answers giving way to pity as the Varisian reminisces of his former ward.
That pity washes away as Vosil speaks of her House. That he knew her circumstances (and standing) within the House was at once alarming and infuriating. However, her face blushing, Talia realizes her anger wasn't pointed at the Lore Warden.
Sighing, she looks to the ground and fidgets with her silver ring as Vosil finishes his speech with a question, which Talia lets hang in the air for a long moment.
"I'm sorry for what happened to your ward. Often, those who suffer worst in the Game of Houses are not those that deserve it, but those innocent or in love. Or young."
"What happened to Natashya was the result of her grabbing the attention of a monster. I know - and appreciate that it is something that you must carry with you - but you must understand that she was dead the moment the thought wormed its way into her killer's head."
"Her killer, and the Surtovas, they're the same type. The type of royalty that acts with no nobility at all. I suspect, since you know of my role in my House, you know I've written a play that - between the lines at least - says just that."
Pushing off the wall, Talia breathes into her hands and rubs them, the spring night bringing her breath in a fog.
"Thank you for the apology, Vosil Comarenza, and let me offer one in turn. Your... directness makes me grind my teeth. But, it is a strength none-the-less. You don't waste time walking around the gooseberry bush before you get to the meat of the fruit." Until now, at any rate...
"And it makes readily apparent your sharp mind and extraordinary perception, of which I am extremely grateful to have available to our little band."
Sighing, Talia looks up to the sky. "I don't know what kind of ruler I would be. A poor one, I expect. Too prone to missing the important details, too rash, too quick to anger."
Looking back down, Talia fixes Vosil with a stern look, brow creased. "But know this: with every fiber of my being, I would not be cruel. I would not be a monster. I would not be a Surtova."
Wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders, Talia holds her look, fixing Vosil with as steely a stare as she can muster. "And don't worry about my House. They've put me in the wilderness, that is true. But look around - there's opportunity out here. If we play a good hand of poque, House Khavortorov will be begging us for scraps from the table. Their time for impositions is ending."
"I've added you and Godly and the Sootscale to our charter. Good night, Master Comarenza."
"This is my second proposal: Let me rule, as a Countess, over this Stolen Land, with your assistance and wise council.
As soon as Talia says that words, Magna stands up, turns and leave the room.
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Edric nods once to the speech and leans down to Taalia's ear. "Excuse me, my Lady." Having said that he pursues Magna out of the room, heading to the forge before catching her up if she goes anywhere else.
When he reaches her he will toss her the crude wooden axes he has been whittling for a couple of nights. Little more than a thick stick with a rough head they still resemble an axe in heft and shape.
"Would you care to spare Magna. You look like you could let off some steam and I need some help with my technique."
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16 Desnus, the wee hours
Vosil nods at Talia's words; it is clear that what she is speaking is the truth (or at least the truth in so far as she believes it). "Well said. And it is true that perhaps my directness has been, shall we say, overly pointed, at times - Brevic nobility brings out the worst in me..."
He hesitates; Talia clearly wants to head for some well-earned rest, but this opportunity may not come again. Seize the moment. He takes a deep breath. "As you may know, my father was a Lodovka but never acknowledged me; in truth I do not know his name. I grew up knowing I was shut out from a life I could have had - but then, that life would not have involved the travel and experiences that have made me who I am; I would never have ventured across Avistan, or entered the Great Pyramids of Akhmenhotep, or the nameless tombs of Ustalav, or so much else besides..." He shakes his head. "Jealousy is folly, but all too human, alas. I do not regret the edge my experiences have gifted me, even though I am sure I could have learned - with time - to enjoy the comfort of noble life." His voice is dry.
"Good night, Talia of House Khavortorov. I am honoured to be in your service."
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Vosil tilts his head to one side, considering Talia's words. Magna's sudden departure merits a raised eyebrow, but his focus does not shift.
"I'll admit, the lure of nobility has a certain appeal - I've always rather fancied the title of 'Margrave'... but could I suggest a name other than Wise Council? It sounds as though we're trying too hard to impress. Why not simply Privy Council, as in those who are privy to the ruler's confidence?"
Idle nitpicking over trivia is Vosil's way of signalling that he's on board with the substance of the idea: catching Talia's eye, he nods, slowly. Count(ess) me in.
The only stumbling block, as far as he is concerned, is the presence of House Khavortorov; but he's raised that with Talia already and it's pointless to voice it again. He sighs, inwardly. If they start to throw their weight around, he can always always step in to clarify things. But he will need to find some reliable aid, and soon: even without the Khavortorov complication, other eyes (friendly or otherwise) will be upon them and he needs to be prepared. There are a few ex-bandits around who might be prevailed upon, and his own people will inevitably pass through from time to time. He is confident he can set up a network of trustworthy types who will assist him as required.
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Dregan looks more and more uncomfortable during the discussion, when Magna and Edric leave he gets up and follows them out.
Once out he goes to the new arrivals and gives them a hand setting up for the night and answering questions about the area.
"I, for one, support Talia as our leader."
"As do I."
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16 Desnus, the wee hours
Talia raises an eyebrow as Vosil's claim hangs in the air between them. She would not elaborate on her own circumstances - much, and the noblewoman had no doubt that Comarenza would find out on his own in time regardless. She had been more fortunate perhaps to be born on the right side of the sheets, if still a bastard. But then, the Stag Lord's castle was the furthest she'd traveled from Brevoy.
"We're not so different, then. Be thankful for your life, for it is yours, and no one else possesses it. Good night, Master Comarenza."
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Talia frowns, but is not surprised, when Magna abruptly walks out of the meeting. She nods her head when Edric excuses himself. The playwright pinches her the bridge of her nose when Dregan leaves, that now familiar headache perching behind her temples. Offering Lebeda a flat smile, she shrugs apologetically. "I'm sure they'll come around."
She can hear the doubt in voice even as the words leave her mouth.
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Darrick watches as three of the charter members walk out. He looks pointedly at Talia.
"It would seem not all of the members are in agreement with your proposal, Talia. Still, you have the support of the rest it would seem. I have not spent enough time with you all to vote fairly, but if it were my preference, I would throw my say behind someone with experience in governing matters."
He pauses a moment, lost in thought. When he speaks again, it isn't clear whether he is speaking about you, or something else...
"There comes a time when all will not agree on the direction the leadership is taking a nation. In that time, you have two choices: stay and have your say, or leave and forfeit your right to speak out about it."
"Talia has my full support as well," Naralesh adds. "The others will come around in time. Magnitofera is a headstrong woman, used to being obeyed. She would rankle under any lord or lady but Torag himself." His tone is serious, addressing all those who remain. "Despite this, she has a good heart and a strong conscience. She will respect a fair governor when she sees results." He smiles. "I trust in your judgment, Talia. You've proven yourself as a leader among our band of explorers - and I think you shall prove yourself an even greater leader for these lands."
Magna, frowning, looks at Edric. He can see a tear forming in her eye.
Without a word she gets one of the axes, goes to the courtyard, and prepares for the sparring match.
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Edric comes in for the first attack - since his purpose is mostly to draw Magna out rather than actually spar he makes the attack purposefully sloppy. Not too much of a task given his familiarity with hammers rather than the blades of an axe. Aiming a blow towards her unprotected side he stays light on his feet, ready to switch to the defensive.
If Magna takes the defensive he will push and prod, crowding her until she retaliates, at which point he will simply defend until she stops. If she attacks then straight to the defensive.
At first Magna seems uninterested on the sparring, but after Edric prods her, and a lucky shot to her side, she unleashes against him, trying to hit him with all of her strength, letting her rage take the better of her.
After a few seconds she crumbles, crying.
"Sorry, I let myself go."
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Edric drops his 'axe' and crouches beside Magna, gently placing an arm around her shoulder. "There, there. Don't worry..." He remains there, murmuring words of encouragement until Magna gets her sobs under control. Once she stops he gently guides her up to the walls, finding a quiet stretch of wall for them to talk.
"Magna, I don't know what's been troubling you these past few days but I want to help. You are a companion and a trusted friend to me after our time out here in the wilds. You and I are more alike than all the others - they don't fully understand the burden of faith the way we do. Talk to me, let me help." He offers a small smile, gentle and concerned and rests his hand on her shoulder.
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"I am lost. You know we have turn ourselves to the betterment of others, and the defense of good and faith. I came here looking to forge this lost lands into a better place, and now I find the same impurities we left behind creeping back into our work. The same nobles, the same concessions, the same politics. I thought I was going to leave all of that behind. I thought I was going to lead this place to a better tomorrow. And I fear that will not be. Everybody loves Talia! Everybody wants her to be queen! Everybody prefers her to me!"
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Edric pauses for a moment, taking time to digest the impassioned outburst he has just heard. "You're right, we turn ourselves to the betterment of others but that does not mean we have to be the ones leading them. My people have a saying Stars fade, but those who follow the stars come safe home. For all of her faults Taalia has proved to be a good leader, she can organise well and she understands the nuances of politics in a way that I never could. Perhaps equally important she is acceptable to the Swordlords. I agree, this is our chance to build a new kingdom, one that can be better than any of those around it...
Edric pauses and looks out over the countryside. "This is a paradise compared to where I grew up. I've seen the depths that people can sink to in the pursuit of power and I'll bear the scars for eternity. You say impurities are creeping in, I say that it is the nature of people. We are all flawed and imperfect but these things can make us stronger rather than weaker. Steel is 'impure' Iron, but those impurities make a better metal, stronger, harder, more useful that the one that came before it. You are a smith, present at the creation of something with vast potential. Do not abandon that because you are not the one directing the hammer blows, wield your hammer and make it the best kingdom that you can. None of us have your ability to inspire and train men, you will lead our kingdoms military if I have anything to say about it and I am sure the rest will agree. Be part of this Magna, that's the only way to safeguard your vision."
Vosil nods at Naralesh's words. "That is correct, and I believe Edric to be the best person to speak with Magna."
He looks at Talia. "Perhaps you should speak with Dregan? I am sure that Naralesh and I are capable between us of bringing Darrick, Kesten and Asha here up to speed with the matters of most immediate concern - by your leave, of course, Lady."
The tone of that address has changed: whereas previously the term 'Lady' had an element of mockery, it's now warmer (although it will never be entirely without a tinge of irony: you can take the Varisian out of the carnival, but you can't wholly take the carnival out of the Varisian...). Nevertheless, for whatever reasons, there is more respect than previously (i.e. there is respect).
He deliberately uses Lebeda's first name, to see how the man reacts (you can take the Varisian out of the etc.).
"So you want us to compromise? To allow this land to be ruled by her?"
She looks with her brown eyes to his.
"You prefer her to me? Do you love her?"
Darrick steps forward to within a pace of where Talia sits on her chair. He stops and drops to one knee. Bowing his head, he says: "I am at your service, Lady Talia. What is your command?"
Behind him the room goes quiet. Then a chair scrapes along the floor, and a second. Asha and Kesten also drop to a knee.
"At your service, Lady Talia."
"At your service, milady."
Svetlana stops wiping dishes to curtsey, and even Oleg ceases grumbling give Talia a low bow.
Talia stands, silent and stunned as some in the room drop to their knees. A few seconds pass, while she thinks back to the conversation the group had after the battle of the Stag Lord's fort, and the advice that was offered.
Clearing her throat, she speaks, willing her voice to be as calm - as commanding - as can be. "We take the conestogas south to the former Stag's fort. It is defensible, has fresh water, and provides a good vantage point to the surrounding areas. Once we're established, we'll work our reach north, connecting the trading post here to our town around the fort."
"Oleg and Svetlana, please accept our heartfelt thanks for your hospitality these many weeks. And you're correct, Goodman Leveton; your business is soon to be bursting at the seems. And you'll find your position greatly increased, I suspect, as a result. Please act as envoys to our new realm and send those that seek us south. We'll be in touch as soon as we're able."
"As for our new town, I suppose a good name would be a reflection of our agreement here today. Concord. And our new realm..."
Talia looks around the room, unsure of the answer herself, a questioning eyebrow raised.
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Edric gapes "What? Why?" He is actually at a literal loss for words and spends almost a minute simply gaping. Once he recovers form the shock he addresses her points in order.
"Yes, I do believe we compromise. We can do far more good for this land by working within than without. Taalia may be queen but I do not believe she will be a tyrant - we will all have a voice. If she does become a tyrant then we will not be the only voices raised against her, but I truly believe she is the best suited to rule."
He pauses and looks extremely uncomfortable. "No, I don't love her. She still carries a torch for the one that left and I... I've never looked at her that way." He trails off...
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26 Desnus 4707
The wagon train sets out the next day for the south, for the site of the new city. The journey takes several days, but in the end, you arrive without issue and the work begins. Many willing hands make for short work, and soon enough, things begin to take shape.
21 Sarenith 4707
The night sky is clear and the moon at a half when the faithful gather for one of the few formal holidays for Desna's followers; the Ritual of Stardust on the summer solstice. On the shore of the lake, with the moon reflected in it's surface, great bonfires are lit. A great feast is held, and those present watch the embers and sparks float out into the night sky. The celebrants chant and sing songs until the fires burn low. When only embers remain, sand mixed with ground star gems (star rubies, star sapphires, and rose quartz) is cast on them. Many of those in attendance make proclamations of love and friendship, and not a few marriage proposals are offered and accepted. The twinkling of the sand-gem mix as it rises with the embers is surely a sign that Desna witnesses and approves this night.
25 Desnus
"As for our new town, I suppose a good name would be a reflection of our agreement here today. Concord. And our new realm..."
Talia looks around the room, unsure of the answer herself, a questioning eyebrow raised.
Vosil too - somewhat to his surprise - has knelt. He intended merely to bow (something sweeping, with his hat, along the lines of what he offered that first night he met Talia), but other parts of his brain clearly had other ideas.
Oh well. May as well carry the thing off properly.
"Lady, I offer you my oath and my honour in your defence. Stand within a whip's length of my arm and no harm shall come to you."
Reaching for Talia's hand, he presses his lips (briefly!) to her ring, before releasing it; looking up into her gaze, his own eyes dancing with... something. Not exactly mischief, not exactly mirth, not exactly solemnity.
"As for a name... May I offer... Fairhaven?"
21 Sarenith
Vosil is in a contemplative mood this night; the Ritual of Stardust. He has much to contemplate, after all. "You do realise that this is the most time I've spent in one place since - well, since I left Brevoy for the first time; half a step ahead of the Watch and covered in blood."
A pause. "Not my blood, I should add."
Actually, that probably doesn't improve the telling of it. There's a reason he doesn't normally talk much about himself.
He coughs. "So. Be that as it may. Is anyone else starting to wonder what's over the horizon?"
He points, over the hills, toward the unmapped regions of the Greenbelt.
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21 Sarenith
Edric grins at Vosil as the normally articulate man digs himself further and further into a hole. "I think this is the longest I've spent anywhere since I was nine. My life hasn't exactly promoted stability thus far." He looks over the twinkling sea of embers and spies a young couple holding hands and kissing, unashamed of the onlookers. "Vosil. Forgive me but do you like Taalia? You two always seems to be so close..." Edric starts lookng uncomfortable but plows on anyway. "How do you.. know when a woman likes you...?"
After the meeting Dregan will track down Talia. "Congratulations, I know you will do well... Sorry for running out and all. I just didn't belong, that was a room for ladies like you. I'm just a hunter and farmer. Anyway if you have more troubles with bandits Oleg will know how to get in touch."
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The work continues apace. More rapidly than anyone could hope, Concord begins to take shape. The quarry north of town provides the stone needed for the new town hall and foundations of the houses.
30 Sarenith 4707
As the Council meets to review the months activities, Asha presents her self as having a petition for review.
"Lords and Ladies of the Council, Viscountess Talia," she begins, "I have a matter of some concern. As the appointed High Priest of Fairhaven I have the honor to oversee the spiritual well-being of the people. As a dedicated follower of Erastil, I have a certain leaning towards his teaching." She smiles, turning to face each person in turn.
"We as a group have a similar leaning, while the area itself has holy sites to him. Within 3 days, one of the most holy days of celebration will be upon us - Archerfeast. On the 3rd of Erastus. I propose we set a out a decree naming that day as our first official holiday."
'Seconded." Darrick says immediately. "We need to make sure the people's lives are not all toil. The people passed the Ritual of Stardust in an impromptu fashion, but we as the leadership must show we support them."
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Magna looks away from Edric.
"But you do prefer her over me, as everyone else."
She runs off towards the forge. The next day she is nowhere to be found.
Magna, fully armored in shining scale mail, goes directly towards Talia (without looking at the others, specially Edric), and kneels before her.
"I have come to pledge my service to Queen Talia, the first of her name, and the land and the people. I beg of you to let me serve in your Kingdom."