Colwyn bids farewell to Mykhael as well, but it lacks sincerity. He is distracted by other thoughts and worries. The former bandit doubts the efficacy of his first offering as a potential ruler - and this was only with his comrades as an audience. A man of his ilk would surely face an terribly uphill struggle to gain the respect and loyalty of others.
Then he thinks of how Oleg had offered to arrange "special orders" from Rostland for them.
Xantria bid Mykhael farewell and wished him luck in the future. She was also hoping for a bit of luck for the rest of the group as well - they were just a bunch of adventurers who'd hooked up for some bandit killing and now their employers wanted them to set up a whole nation down here? Xan was nervous about what that could entail and she certainly didn't feel like the kind of person suited to any sort of governance or official position.
He taps the letter thoughtfully. "This is worrying, if House Medvyed is recalling family members then something big must be happening in Brevoy, something political. I'll have to go, but I will try and get word to you of what I can find out."
"Of course, Mykhael. Your family comes first. Good luck, and may Old Deadeye watch over you as you watch over them."
From a distance, the large half-orc approaching the group seems veritably an implement of warfare - a well used, long hafted polearm hangs across his back in easy reach, and multiple weapons dot his simple, travelling attire - a morningstar to one side, a dagger and a sling to the other, all complemented by a well kept breastplate and a dented wooden shield.
In spite of the gear carried he walks easily, seemingly with no difficulties in lugging around the great load, his black horse plodding along behind him, unencumbered.
His dark hair is disheveled and his black grayish clothing is more than a bit dusty, a clear indication of recent travel. The half-breed's skin is also quite suntanned, but none of it dims the glow in his dark black eyes as he observes the group engaged in conversation from across the yard.
As he approaches, you notice the fangs protruding from his lower jaw - a clear testament of his heritage.
With a sidelong glance at the one leaving, he addresses you - "Well met" - he nods - "I am Reknar and I apologize for the interruption but... Even though it is none of my business, I would ask - are you the ones I've heard about? 'A group of adventurers cleaning the Stolen Lands'?"
"... we could also offer armed service as an alternative to other taxes or tithes. Each household that contributes at least one person for weekly drills..."
"There are many forms of labour someone could contribute. Roads and bridges will needed to be built, and ditches will need to be dug," Elena says. "For those that have strong backs but little wealth, it gives them a chance to contribute and see how their contributions help those around them."
"Bar unusual circumstances, Akiros was an officer for example and he's showing some promise..."
"I don't want to have some kind of hard rule that prohibits a genuinely contrite person from trying to make amends. As long as it is understood that they have more to atone for."
With a sidelong glance at the one leaving, he addresses you - "Well met" - he nods - "I am Reknar and I apologize for the interruption but... Even though it is none of my business, I would ask - are you the ones I've heard about? 'A group of adventurers cleaning the Stolen Lands'?"
"I've used a broom and a mop now and then, I suppose," Elena says with a grin. "Though mopping the entire Stolen Lands would be quite a job!"
Elena glances at the others for a moment. "Yes, I suppose that's us... although we are only one of several such groups, and we are assigned to this part known as 'The Greenbelt.' I am Sister Elena, priestess of Erastil. And if you mean peace, be welcome."
Reknar chuckles at the broom and mop reference - "Well met Sister, and yes - no quarrel" - he adds, then pauses for a moment - "Look... There is really no way to beat around the bush with this one, so I'm just gonna come out and say it" - even though he makes no threatening moves, his posture does change slightly into a more defensive one.
"It seems your activities are rubbing someone the wrong way - I'm sure you have realized it by now" - the half-orc begins - "And I have information on who may be wanting to take you out of the picture" - he continues - "And before you get all worked up about why I am doing this, I'll tell you flat out I'm not a fan of that backstabbing, waltzing in the dark kind of crap. Foul play needs to be handled with blunt instruments in my book"
Xantria eyed the newcomer warily as he talked about a threat to them.
"And I assume you're wanting something in exchange for this information?" she asked, her left hand casually draped over the hilt of her sword. It wasn't a threatening, 'I'm about to draw this' gesture (mainly because it involved the wrong hand) but it was emphasising that she had the weapon.
Reknar eyes Xantria's hand purposefully as it moves to the blade, then at her - "You assume correctly" - he nods - "What about a pitcher of ale, and a decent meal? Haven't had one in days, and my throat is as parched as a dead man's boots" - he smiles.
"Tell me do you like sausages made of boar meat?" Richard leads the half orc inside. He wasn't too sure of the man but he'd hear him out... and hoped he wasn't one of the cats paws sent to trouble them.
"Sounds like music to my hears" - Reknar extends his hand in a greeting at Richard - "I did not get your name"
Colwyn misses the first introductions when the newcomer arrives, as he is inside with Oleg in his office discussing business at the time.
"I'm not going to dance around this issue, my friend, I've been as pleasant as the woods in which my old man raised me into a man. I'm fairly canny at talking my way through trouble, and my time with our mutual friends out there has softened my rougher edges, but I'm still not much of a charmer."
Colwyn pauses to tamp down the smoldering embarrassment he feels discussing such matters with a man as gruff as Oleg. He also make no mention of his aim to become the ruler of the region. Even at best, he reasons, Oleg would laugh in his face at the prospect.
"I'd like to put in an order for a magic charm from Restov. Something that can bolster my, er, something that can make me..."
He stammers a bit, but then Oleg cuts to the chase.
"You want something to make you likeable," Oleg says, deadpan. Then, with a snort, he adds, "Sure won't be cheap."
Colwyn scowls at the unexpected jab, but he controls his temper. He remembers the goal at hand and reminds himself how ill advised it would be to damage ties with the trader. Deep down, Colwyn also had to admit with a sigh that Oleg wasn't wrong.
After making arrangements with Oleg, Colwyn steps back out into the outpost yard to find his comrades gathered around the new arrival.
"First that sharp-tongued, limp-legged soothsayer...now what do we have wandering in...?" he thinks to himself.
Suddenly remembering, again, his aim to become more personable, Colwyn banishes his bitterness and saunters over to the group.
"Well now!" Colwyn calls jovially, arms spread wide in welcome, "What new face has fate brought to our doorstep today?
"Greetings! I am Orlack. Colwyn Orlack. It is a pleasure to meet you," Colwyn says, mimicking his best imagined approximation of courtly manners.
"Well met to you Colwyn Orlack" - the half orc replies with a nod - "I am Reknar and..." - he looks at the others, then back at the man - "I think we were about to grab some boar meat sausages and ale, I think..." - and smiles.
"I don't want to have some kind of hard rule that prohibits a genuinely contrite person from trying to make amends. As long as it is understood that they have more to atone for."
He's curmudgeonly about it, but Niadroub Kliip would accept bandit officers receiving heftier punishment than regular bandits.
As Richard leads the half-orc inside, Niadroub Kliip whispers conspirationally to Elena and Xantria: "I lek him. He smells nice."
Then he also heads inside to see if there's any more headcheese.
"My name is Richard Harmin of Mivon." He steps inside asking Svetlana for a round of drinks and sausages.
"So tell us a bit more Reknar."
Xan gave a rather surprised look at Niadroub as he remarked on Reknar. After he walked off, she turned to Elena. "The hells is up with him? I know mages can be weird at times, but that guy's something else."
Reknar leans the bardiche against the wall, and does the same with his shield, pulling up a chair to sit down - "Thanks" - he nods at Richard, and then smiles at Svetlana when she brings the sausages and ale - he pours a mug for everyone, and for himself in the end.
"Here's the thing" - he takes a long drink - "I took a break in Mivon from the upriver travel in the East Sellen, and bumped into an old acquaintance of mine" - the half-orc recounts - "He has a knack for finding goods and services other people need. He's a provider of sorts" - he chuckles - "Anyway, one of his latest jobs has been as recruiter for one Ambrose Wint. You ever heard about him?"
...Niadroub Kliip whispers conspirationally to Elena and Xantria: "I lek him. He smells nice."
"The hells is up with him? I know mages can be weird at times, but that guy's something else."
Elena leans back to Xantria.
"When he says 'smells nice' I think Niadroub means 'compared to my horse.'"
As the group escorts Reknar inside, Elena hears him mention a name. Startled for a moment, she looks at the others.
"Anyway, one of his latest jobs has been as recruiter for one Ambrose Wint. You ever heard about him?"
"Ambrose Wint... yes, I think we have heard the name here and there. What can you tell us about him?"
"When he says 'smells nice' I think Niadroub means 'compared to my horse.'"
"Wouldn't that cover just about everyone? It's not like he washes the poor thing."
She followed the group inside, leaning against the wall as she listened to them talk about Ambrose Wint.
"My money's on him being a prat."
By now Reknar has started on the sausages, stuffing them inside loaves of bread with butter, before eating them - "Well, my 'acquaintance' most recent job for this Wint is to travel the River kingdoms and find mercenaries, giving them the signing on gold and sending them to the village of Sarain, just over the border in Pitax" - he adds - "Where they are formed into squads and sent off to work in the Stolen Lands" - then pauses.
"Whatever this 'work' is I do not know. But what he did tell me was about 'this group of adventurers cleaning up the Stolen lands, removing bandits and monsters'. A group this fellow Wint wants dead" - his tone becomes a little more somber than it has been so far - "According to him, you lot have already been attacked by and defeated several squads of mercenaries, and so... Wint has raised the signing on gold, and is putting a price on your heads"
"Murderous a*+#$@%*, then, I was close," Xan said, "and frankly, he should ask for his money back if he's been sending the best he could find. Well... he could ask, but we'd probably just tell him to get stuffed."
Reknar nods at the fiery woman - "That's about all I know, except for one last tidbit" - Reknar downs another gulp of ale - "This guy who gave me the information? Over the next few months he will be heading west to Voluse in Gralton, then downriver to Gralton city itself to report to this Ambrose, and get more gold" - and sets down his mug, leaning back on the chair with his arms crossed in front of him - "Now you know as much as I do. Probably more"
Rather than slamming his fist down upon the table, Colwyn is the sort of gent who'll sit and simmer with a grimace upon his face.
He idly taps his knuckles arrhythmically upon the table while pondering the new information.
"I would suggest that we have a pointed word or two with this acquaintance of yours, Reknar," Colwyn finally says after a quiet moment, "But a very important slice of business has fallen into our laps here. I'm not sure I'd be willing to toss it aside, even if it meant cutting Mr. Wint off at the knees."
"The timing is more than a little awkward I'll admit."
"I would suggest that we have a pointed word or two with this acquaintance of yours, Reknar," Colwyn finally says after a quiet moment, "But a very important slice of business has fallen into our laps here. I'm not sure I'd be willing to toss it aside, even if it meant cutting Mr. Wint off at the knees."
"Can't say I blame you for wanting a word with the source of the information" - Reknar nods - "Though... He's just 'hired help' I think - he'll do most of anything for a few coins to be honest. Now this Wint guy... Any idea why he'd want to stop whatever it is you guys are up to?"
"The timing is more than a little awkward I'll admit."
"Why is that?" - he inquires, mug in hand.
"We're kengs, noow," Niadroub Kliip says airily before taking a swig of something in a clay jug that has a number of Xs scored into the side.
Reknar seems to hesitate for a second, then smiles in understanding, just to appear confused again - "You are kings? What do you mean?" - he asks - "Kings of what?"
"Apparently the guys back home think that, just because we cleared out the bandits, we should try and establish a kingdom here with us in charge. Personally, I think if they wanted that then they should've sent us some advisors or something to help. Niadroub's just been letting it go to his head a bit, you should've seen him about twenty minutes ago rambling about wanting a tower and some other crap."
"Et's noot crep! I'll ned a place to stoody my megic. What are you gooing to be respoonsible for? Teeling people whet to doo?"
"That new charter claims that they'll send a 'generous stipend' of funds and advice to us, but Rostland's probably already overextending itself. When I was locked up, the prisoners were surprisingly obsessed with following the politics and drama of Brevic nobles."
Colwyn shakes his head derisively, thinking about all the brigands, cutpurses, con men, and the like who hung on every scrap of courtly intrigue as though they were bored ladies-in-waiting themselves. He supposed it helped them pass the time in prison.
"Rostland and Issia have been at each other's throats ever since the Vanishing. If any Swordlords tried to establish open rule over the Stolen Lands...Hells! Rostlandic heads would roll," Colwyn whistles. "They probably need us as puppet rulers: keeping enough slack on the leash so the Surtovas can't say or do squat, but keeping the land on a leash nonetheless.
"I don't know about you folks, but I have no qualms about such a situation. A puppet ruler is a ruler nonetheless, and it's still a damn higher station than where I previously stood."
Colwyn leans back in his chair, his hands folded over his sternum and a canary-eating grin on his face.
"Anyhow, building him a tower might be for the public good," Colwyn jeers, nodding his head towards Niadroub. "It'll keep him, his magic, and his nag off the streets."
"Hey, I can get behind the tower, it's his idea for a moonshine distillery I'm not so sure about."
"Hey, I can get behind the tower, it's his idea for a moonshine distillery I'm not so sure about."
Elena cocks an eyebrow. "Isn't the whole point of Moonshine that you don't need a distillery to make it?"
Elena turns back to Reknar.
"We have been given the right to govern, though that doesn't make us Kings and Queens... my blood feels no more royal than it did a week ago. We also don't know if this appointment is temporary, or for how long... it could be that if we do a rotten job it will be taken away from us. Or it could be that if we do too good a job we will lose it all."
"We are not alone in this; apparently other groups have been assigned other regions within the Stolen Lands."
Elena looks around at the others.
"But whatever else happens, we have a responsibility to the people that come and settle here. We have to do the best we can for their sake. In the end, it is their sweat that builds the new nation, and it is theirs as much as ours."
Reknar listens to each one of them in turn - dangerously close to laughter at the exchange between Xantria and Niadroub, and carefully paying attention to Colwyn and Elena - "Fair enough" - he nods, tapping his fingers on the table for a few seconds while looking from one to the other.
"And are you hiring?" - the half-orc adds bluntly.
"It can be turned into friendly relations rather than puppets with some work. They might be going with several small countries so they don't have to get overly involved. Small enough not to be a threat individually but a buffer against bandits and established River Kingdoms."
"I suspect we'll be doing quite a bit of hiring Reknar. What skills do you have that could be of use?"
"Skills... Well, I've traveled a lot, so picked up bits and pieces here and there" - he chuckles - "I know how to handle myself decently enough in a fight, whether from afar or up close and personal" - and pats the morningstar closeby.
"Been in the army a good part of my life, with all the good and bad it brings" - he adds, absent mindedly rubbing some sort of tattoo in his arm, and not chuckling anymore - "I can hunt and make a fire outdoors, bark orders when things are a mess, and stick to the plan when it is well drawn out, much like a soldier would I guess" - the half-orc shrugs.
"A good friend of mine told me once I wasn't as bad with words as I thought - couple years back I wouldn't have any use for them, but nowadays... Let's just say words have gotten me out of enough messes to deserve at least some consideration in my book" - and he smiles again, shaking his head.
"Then again I could say whatever I wanted, and maybe you guys would believe me, right?" - he looks at Richard - "Best take me along for a while so you can see for yourself?" - and nods.
"Well," Colwyn muses with one last rap of his knuckles on the table, "I don't have any soldiering experience myself, but we'll need someone who does to command the troops we'll inevitably need. Being able to fight alongside them is good, too.
"Of course, first we need to settle on a base of operations. Somewhere defensible that commands a strategic location."
"I spotted a good place along the river." Richard takes out his map and shows Colwyn. "The Stag Lord's camp was at a great spot but it's quite far south and might send the wrong message."
"Maybe, but it'd save us having to build fortifications from scratch, just have to build on and reinforce what's there."
"A good place for a fort to watch over trade on the rivers leading into the Tuskwater."
Colwyn casts his vote for using the Stag Lord's fort as a foundation for their settlement, although if the rest of his "council" decides upon the river crossing, he does not argue. He reasons that this is not a matter worth staking his nascent authority upon.
However, he does not discard the old bandit hold entirely, and quietly envisions a fortress - no, a castle! - of his own built atop those ruins.
"I spotted a good place along the river." Richard takes out his map and shows Colwyn. "The Stag Lord's camp was at a great spot but it's quite far south and might send the wrong message."
"Yes, I don't think we want to legitimize the Stag Lord by occupying the same throne he did, so to speak. A new site would show us to be making a fresh start."
"Also, access to fresh water is easy, and if we put the initial site in one of the forks of the river then the site is protected on several sides. I think we ought to put the town on the north side of the fork since threats will most likely not come from the north."
"The reever croosing," Niadroub Kliip states flatly. "The heels aroound the fort hev zombies."
"The river crossing it is, then," Colwyn decrees, trying to sound as though it was his will all along. To his surprise, compromise does not leave the bitter taste that he had expected.
After all, he reasons that controlling such a strategic location could be quite profitable, and the thought renews the smile upon his face. He is also bolstered by the hope that a fine castle of his own remains a possibility.
"We have a location, so now we need to decide how to break ground. When building a town, where do you start? While I should like to see a shrine to Erastil, it would probably be best to start with some manner of watchtower or palisade, eh?"
"I would say a palisade with a few tents to start off - it gets you shelter and a defensible position" - Reknar pipes in, having been silent up to then - "Then maybe some form of storage for food and materials is my next guess"
The arguments over names and policies seem to be unending, happily it hasn't quite come to blows yet. And while you discuss the extremely important details construction has started.
Barely a day passes without a new trader or merchant visiting the site of your new capital, all bringing a few gifts to sweeten the deals they hope to make. While trade at Oleg's has been picking up over the last few months a reliable source of not just furs and pelt, but also wood, stone and metal is something that many hope to see.
1st months construction has started, what do you plan to do during that month?
Richard will spend much of his time helping attract merchant and tradesmen aiding in smoothing the flow of commerce and investment in the area.
Aside from this he spends his time getting maps created and refined from his notes.
Colwyn invites Akiros, Kesten, and Kesten's guards to ride out with him. Their first destination is the former bandit camp to recruit Miss Switch and the "tamed" bandits.
The Toad turned Stagslayer showers the men with gold - claiming it was plundered from Stag Lord but in truth coming from Colwyn's own pocket - to cement their loyalty.
"My word is good!" he reassures the former bandits. "Do you see the fruits of following me? You've kept your lives and your gold!"
Once this retinue is assembled, they return to the site where Thornford will soon rise from the hills to celebrate a new age in the Greenbelt.
On the morrow, Colwyn seeks to borrow carts from the merchants and workman who've come to Thornford, offering them some of the cheaper gemstones - hematite, obsidian, and azurite - from the party's stores in exchange for their use.
With the vehicles' use secured, Colwyn then leads his men to the former Stag Lord's fort. Avoiding the zombies that supposedly lurk in the hills, they load up the trade goods, jewelry, and other wealth that previously had to be left behind and haul it back to the budding capital.
Colwyn hopes that the show of wealth will awe the merchants and tradesmen visiting the site, encouraging them to do even more business with the nascent Republic of the Kamelands.
During the rest of the month, he throws himself into his new role as custodian of this nation. He uses his honeyed words to entice merchants, woo former bandits into his "more honest" work, and oversee construction of the Toad & Stag. He also finds time to speak with Elena and learn more about Erastil, growing more convinced that this bright new stage in his life is, at least in part, owed to Old Deadeye.
"I find this work quite agreeable," he says to anyone who'll listen, a homely but genuine smile upon his face.
As the colonists pour in, Elena nods to herself. These people need a place to pray, she thinks.
She circulates among the colonists, wearing her priestly symbols openly, trying to identify which ones are adherents of Erastil. When she has found a group of a large enough size she gathers the group together.
"Welcome to Thornford! Our village is humble, but soon we will have a proper place of worship. Yet in the mean time, we should still have a place to honour Old Deadeye with songs and prayers."
"For now, I propose we put up a big tent. Father Erastil pays no mind to trappings of wealth, and loves even the most humble. All who wish to do so can find ways to contribute to such a place, and it will belong to our community as a part of his."
She finds various groups of people who wish to contribute things; those who can make benches, those to sew the tent together, those who can make embroidery to make tapestries that can hang within the tent, including a large one that she will consecrate as a holy symbol in lieu of an actual statue. She will gather a few stout young lads to find a large natural rock that can serve as an altar, and has them cart it to the tabernacle.
Once it is ready, she and Jhod begin offering daily services there.
After the first tent is put up, she works on setting up a second such tent, where the sick and injured can rest and recover. She will divide her time between these two things, only occaisionally taking time to go hunting with what hunters that have joined the new nation.
After the town begins to take shape and things settle into a routine, Elena approaches the rest of the council.
"I'd like to explore the area to the southeast of here. While we are protected by the river, nonetheless it worries me to have an area so close to the town and not know what is there."
Xan had spent most of the time they were getting established to settle into her role as law enforcement. Not exactly a profession she had ever seen herself in, but she'd managed to get a hold of a book listing the most common laws and punishments in Restov to give her at least a starting point for their own take on it. The whole chapter on import/export restrictions and tariffs wasn't going to be seeing much use for a fair while, that was for certain, to say nothing of the part about building regulations.
Xan had also managed to arrange for her chain shirt to undergo some mild modifications to once more be as concealed as her original armour had been without sacrificing protection.
Elena's suggestion to check the area to the southeast was met with a nod from the aasimar. "Agreed, would be a fine thing to find there's a bandit camp right on our doorstep, wouldn't it?"