.
One evening, a firm knock comes through the door to your private suite of the small keep. One of your handmaidens checked the door to find Captain Bokrug, a loyal clansman to Festung. He nodded to the young maiden then turned and bowed to you. ”My Lady, I have a dispatch here from Stoneclimb, bearing yer Father’s personal seal,” he says as he holds a small scroll case out to her.
The case was well worn, and engraved on each end were the sigil of House Medvyed. Inside was a neatly rolled scroll, sealed in wax and marked with your father’s personal signet.
My Dearest Daughter,
I am so glad to hear from New Stetven the praises being bestowed to you, even if your name is now marred with that bastards House. Nevertheless, I know it must have been disheartening to receive word that the Swordlords did not elect to send you on their mission into the Stolenlands. I know my brother Mathan was frustrated that his favors were spent for naught.
But, in case you haven’t heard, many hardships have befallen the groups that ventured south. Half of them have now entirely failed in their endeavors, and another struggles to hang on. Only one seems to be prospering in the face of the adversity there.
Even so, it would appear the Swordlords are investing one final effort into their notoriously rebellious efforts there. As such, your Uncle Gurev, in an effort to appease King Noleski and placate tensions, has negotiated your inclusion in the settlement effort there. As you have no husband or son to oversee your current holdings, he has agreed to allow House Medvyed to absorb the lands of House Mênan, and allow you to take part in this new endeavor in the Greenbelt with his personal blessing and a cache of supplies and laborers to aid you in your effort there.
In return for the King’s generosity, Gurev has made some adjustments to our trade agreements. The bulk of our wool and goat herds shall now be sold through markets in Port Ice rather than to Restov. I, for one, am not certain this was the best economic decision for the Family, but Gurev insists that it was the best thing to do given the current tensions in the Land.
My dove, I trust Festung will keep you safe there, but do be the clever girl I know you to be and not put yourself at risk. Find you a man befitting your affections and as keen of wit as you. Give him some sons. Erase the name of Mênan from the history books. Make the most of this opportunity and make your father proud of you, as you always do.
Endurance Overcomes All
With Love and Pride
Lord Phelan Medvyed
That was a week ago. You now find yourself approaching Restov from the north, the smoke of the multitude of chimneys rising into the sky. The flags of the Swordlords flying proudly from the city walls cause your heart to beat excitedly for multiple reasons. But for now, your eager anticipation of arriving at the Swordlord Guildhall is stalled as one of the wagons in your caravan has broken an axel and is being repaired. The slowdown has created a significant traffic jam on the Northern road leading into Restov. Farms lie immediately to either side of the road, and any deviation from the road by anything larger than a single rider on horseback will damage crops, likely resulting in angry farmers and owed restitution for said damages.
Word of the cause ranges from everything from a lovers duel to civil war. But whatever the truth was, two weeks ago it was learned that the small town they had built was essentially a total loss.
A week later, Morris approached you and informed you that your grandmother wanted to speak with you. His expression immediately made you aware something was up. As you entered into your grandmothers small sitting room in her house, she called out to you without looking up from her needlework, ”So, boy. Morris tells me that you have big plans for yourself, do ya? Fancy yourself a right and proper Swordlord of your own making, eh? Ha! Well, you may be right. I know you were pissed that you didn’t get chosen for that last bunch of scrap rats that went into the Stolen Lands, but look what good it did ‘em!”
She sighed before continuing, ”Even so, your tutor is very insistent that you are destined for more than a life here in the Crossing. I swear I regret hiring that prick. Keeps stoking those flights of fancy of yours, he does. At any rate, word has it the Swordlords are funding one last venture into the Greenbelt. Since you got it in your head that your a Lord already, I figure it was high time you had the chance. I made a sizable donation to ‘em and got ‘em to agree to name you as a member of this expedition,” she says as she leans down and bites the thread she had been sewing with and ties off the string in a knot. She lifts up her work and squints her eyes to study it closely before handing it to you. ”Here. You’re as stubborn as a boar. I figured you can use it as your banner! Now go make whatever name for yourself you think you deserve!”
That was a week ago. You now are riding into Restov from the West, and can see that traffic into the city is up today as it would appear multiple caravans are arriving today...
”You are too cowardly to test yourself against a man who has been a victor on the List of Suitors each of the past six months!” Jadori called out loudly to the older man, clearly boasting for the local crowd who supported him.
Trine scoffed. ”Boy. In Restov we don’t have to bolster our egos with monthly duels for merit. And we were not the ones who fled the land at the first sign of conflict, if you will recall, Sir Salune!” he retorted.
Jadori smirked and replied ”And how did that fare for you lot? Oh, yes, that’s right, you now bend the knee to ‘King’ Surtova! The Great Swordlords of Restov! Now nothing more than bannermen to a Regent King who claimed an empty throne!”
Trine said nothing in reply, but his hand fell to his scabbard and removed the strap securing his sword in place. Jadori did the same, and the crowd fell silent. The moment seemed to drag on forever, but to your trained eye, you saw that Trine not only had the better stance, but Jadori was sweating from his excitement...and anxiety. You deduced he knew he had bitten off more than he could chew, but couldn’t back down now.
In a flash of steel the two men launch into their duel! A few quick parries and thrusts, and Jadori’s sword was in the dirt, and Trine’s was at the younger man’s neck! ”Settled then?” Trine asks. ”Good. Now take your weapon and get out of my sight before I decide to escalate this duel further.”
Jadori shakily took his sword and he and his men walked away quickly as the crowd dispersed. Only you and your men remained behind. You introduced yourself and explained that you were traveling to Restov as well. After some friendly discussion, he agreed to let you travel back to the city with him.
Your troupe traveled north through lands he referred to as the Nomen Heights, through a pass in the mountains called the Tors of Levenies, and to a small village known as Varnhold. It seemed Trine was friendly with the local Baron there, a man by the name of Maegar Varn. He was friendly enough, and during your short stay over there, informed Trine that something tragic had befallen the settlement to the West. He had heard that the Swordlords intended to send a new company into that area to attempt once more to settle them.
This news clearly weighed heavily on Trine. The next few days as you travel north towards a town called Nivatka’s Crossing, he looked to you and said ”Sir D’Arden, you seem to have a good enough head on your shoulders. And you at the least seem to be able to carry a sword properly,” he playfully teases. ”I tell you what,” he adds as he reigns in his horse. In the road. ”Square off with me here. If you win, I will put your name forward to my superior in Restov as a candidate to be a part of their new venture. I saw you eyeing my fight with Sir Salune back in Mivon, I know you have been dieing to test yourself against me since that day. We will duel to First Blood. If I win...” he looks you over, ”I’m sure someone in Restov would Buy that sword of yours off of me...”
Three days later and the walls of Restov are in sight in the distance to the East. Several other caravans travel the road into the city. Your scimitar clatters comfortably at your side, and Lord Fervourblade is handling the reigns to his horse with just his right hand, as his left arm is nursing a fresh bandage.
You were just returning to your safe house and had removed your mask when a magical light suddenly illuminated the room. Standing in the corner with four dancing red orbs flitting around between you and he was a man in a hooded cloak, an Aldori Dueling Sword hanging from his hip. ”Master Pence. Or should I say, Carnifex?” he said as he folded the hood back. He was an older man, though his body was clearly still quite strong and in shape based on how he carried himself. ”Do not bother calling for aid or drawing your weapon. I have been studying you, and if I have been as successful as I have, how far behind do you think the Crown Knights or the Red Claw are? But, I’ve seen how you operate. I know the type of men you are hunting. They deserve it. So your secret is safe with me. In fact, I want to extend you an offer that will not only protect you from legal action from the Throne, but give you the chance to see justice done properly. But not here.”
He lifted his hood back over his face. ”Be in Restov in two weeks, and come to the Aldori Guildhall. Sell off whatever you can, and use the goods to acquire as much building supplies and hired labor you can. If you truly seek to see a land where justice can flourish, then this offer is not one you will want to pass up. Otherwise...feel free to test your mettle against the Crown Knights,” he said before slipping out.
Two weeks later, and the expedited sale of your holdings in the north had garnered a significant amount of goods and laborers, as well as a caravan to haul the goods, to your side. Your ride into Restov from the north is being slowed by another caravan just ahead of yours, who seems to have had a wagon break an axel and is in the process of it being repaired. Farms lie immediately to either side of the road, and any deviation from the road by anything larger than a single rider in horseback will damage crops, likely resulting in angry farmers and owed restitution for said damages. But the city itself is visible in the distance, to what end still remained a mystery.
Standing close to the road Flaith looked impatiently on the wagon.
This is taking far too long!
About to say something she stalled.Yelling won´t make them finish it faster.
Moving to the wagon with the supplies she quickly took 2 bottles of cheap wine and started down the que, inviting the waiting people to a cup in exchange for their patience.
As you try to be patient due to the hold up on the road, you see a young woman, clearly of nobility based on her dress and bearing,make her way down the side of the road, offering members of your caravan some wine while they wait. Everyone she speaks to seems to have their moods lightened by her presence. Some of the laborers of your caravan even move to go aid in the repair efforts.
It would appear your ploy is working perfectly, and some of the laborers from this caravan even volunteer to help get your wagon repaired.
Galendir learned much in the man's previous duel. He was faster then he seemed and aggressive. That would be what turned this duel in his favor. The two squared off. Their men watching on in anticipation. Galendir watched at Trine tried to size him up. I will show him something new. Suddenly Galendir's stance shifted. His feet moved and danced about with a grace and elegance. Trine smirked. "Fool, you waste your opportunity to strike." He lunged forward. He was a seasoned swordsman in his right and had seen the dervish dance before. His blade was quick and on point, but in a sudden twist and flurry Galendir's scimitar came about quickly parrying the blow away leaving the mans weak side exposed to a riposte. Galendir maintained control and gave the man a simple wound, but perhaps one he wouldn't soon forget.
Galendir and his men keep the caravan entertained with jokes and stories while the trudge into the city.
He bends down and takes her hands into his own calloused ones. He kisses her on the cheek and says, ”I won’t let the family down.”
Though he tries not to show it, he spends the week preparing with giddy excitement all ramping up to departure. His hands are shaking as he tries to balance the cigarette paper and spills a little tobacco on it. He rolls it messily, with bits of leaf falling on his horses shoulder. He stuffs the smoke in his mouth, but doesn’t light it, not trusting himself with flame at the moment.
He bids farewell to his family and with a warm heart, heads off into the unknown!
- - -
You see a man who is a bit rough, short, heavy, and scrappy. He’s a little unshaven, his hair is somewhat unkempt, and there’s dirt under his fingernails - one of which is chipped far down into the finger. He wears a comfortable mithral breastplate, fairly new, along with a pair of well used scimitars and even a morning star at his belt. A sling bag over his shoulder and back contain his other worldly possessions, which are few but bulky.
His fingers seem to have a life of their own, and seem to be always doing something. Either he’s whittling some random scrimshawed object with his knife, or he’s rolling, badly, a cigarette. Though he does it with some frequency, he seems to not have any skill at fashioning his smokes, often fumbling tobacco to the floor or table, and ending up with lopsided results with strange bulges. Still, he chomps on the tobacco as much as he smokes it and he currently has a misshapen cigarette sticking out of his mouth - unlit.
He sits astride an impressively large warhorse as he rides up to the crossroads. He pulls his horse to the side a moment and watches the caravans negotiate past each other.
He sees the fair woman passing through the caravans with wine, and sits appreciating her beauty and kindness.
Huh. I wonder what she’s doing here? he wonders idly. Rusty might know, he knows everyone.
Waiting till the damage is done, Flaith is not shy to press a few silvers in the palms of those that helped.
With a smile she waves to the helpers before mounting the lead wagon again.
"Well, Marius, we have wasted enough daylight and held up the people long enough. I would say it is time to get going!"
Govannon enjoys the jokes and stories told by those with more flair than he, and nudges his horse to follow along within listening range - provided of course he does not press or annoy Trine Fevourblade. He suspects the Swordlord could hurt his chances even now were he to cross him somehow.
During a break in the story, he takes his unlit cigarette out of his mouth and rests it on the pommel of his saddle. Applauding then, he calls out, "Well done good folk, well done. You're skills will be enjoyed in Restov I am sure!"
- - -
Galendir nods to the man and takes a bow.
"Your words are kind." Then as he does all he stares a moment and sizes the man up. Noticing he is not a simple caravan guard. The man carries himself well and looks to be a seasoned adventurer. Galendir approaches.
"Good day sir. I am Galendir D'Arden, Kitharodian Bard and leader of this troupe. The beautiful woman over there is my wife Aayalla. My mother entertained me with stories of sword and sorcery. You sir seem the adventuring type. Would you be so kind to share a story with us. You will receive our hospitality of course." He motions to a couple of his men who approach they carry a bucket of water. Galendir motions over the bucket and speaks a few arcane words and the contents darken. One of the men then dips a tankard and hands it to the man another to Galendir.
"Honey mead. Some say nectar of the gods. Come I will introduce you ot Sir Trine. He seems to like a good sword tale himself."
He smiles warmly, "But where are my manners! I am Govannon. Ah, Govannon Gittins. This being the beginning of my journey my larder is bursting, so let me share as well. We can pick the best of our stock and make a day of it!"
He dismounts, leaving his cigarette behind, and shakes Galendir's hand. "So are you a religious man? And before you panic, though I am devout to Desna, I am no evangelist. I'll not try to save your soul, or convince you one god is better than another. But, I find you can learn much of a man by who he calls out to in the long nights."
- - -
He smiles.
"The pleasure is mine. Religious, ah yes. I went on pilgrimage into Qadira. Katapesh is an amazing place. I was going to pay honor to the Dawnflower. It was there I met my lovely wife. She devout as well. She is a paladin of the Dawnflower. I would agree worship is for one to choose for themselves. Come, come."
He escorts the man over.
"Sire Trine. Allow me to present Govannon Gittins. He carries himself as one that knows his way around a blade. I asked him to regal us with a tale of his deeds. I'm not sure if you can recommend another candidate, but he seems of the sort. A devout follower of Desna to boot." He then looks to one of his men and makes a head notion. On doing so the man dips and tankard in the mead and hands it to Sir Trine.
"Let us drink and learn of one another."
"But I like the general gist of the doctrine, what I remember of it anyway, and I do favor the scimitar!" he clanks the scimitar on his left side with the palm of his hand.
When introduce to the lord, Govannon fumbles nervously a moment before bowing the appropriate depth for the custom and smiles, "Lord Fervourblade, your name is spoken of with respect. It is an honor to meet you."
- - -
He then looks back at the sizable caravan of supplies and workers in tow in Govannon’s own party and comments ”Though, it would appear you may already have been spoken for...and chosen...for a significant endeavor, does it not Galendir?”
Looking over the pair of caravans, it is clear that the combined crew of Trine’s and Galendir’s contain mostly armed men and performance and service personnel, while Govannon’s consists almost entirely of laborers and common folk, and is nearly twice the size of Trine’s and Galendir’s combined troupe.
"Why, well met Lady Flaith! A pleasure, I'm sure. Lucius Pence, though I rather doubt my reputation is as well-known as your own. FABulous to meet you! Though at the right moments big burly men can be useful, I had feared my eyes would not see such a comely face on this sordid soiree of settlement."
He looks over their caravan, "You seem rather better prepared than I, I must say. I have rather fewer soldiers than I would like for such an endeavor, but I hope to manage. To a degree, mercenaries can be bought in a pinch - though I prefer more loyal troops when the chips are down."
He reaches up to the pommel of his saddle, grabs his waiting cigarette, pushes a tiny errant bit of leaf back into the wrapper, tosses it between his lips, and lights it with a Spark between his fingers. The lumpy white tube burns unevenly a moment but it seems to stabilize as Govannon takes a deep draw. His whole body seems to relax a bit as he exhales, blowing a smoke ring high into the sky.
"Where are you headed? Surely Restov is not your final destination?"
- - -
Looking at the man riding next to her Flaith was a bit surprised to be recognized on a dirty country road. Nevertheless, a lady has to keep her manners, so she gave the man a respectful nod.
"You flatter me, Master Pence. You try to win me by words, but not with deeds. But the road is still long and if you insist, I would not mind sharing a few moments with such a witty man. I just hope we do not slow you down?"
Looking at Lucius in earnest and making notes on his bearing and arment she continues.
"Well you said you had a reputation, please enlighten me, a reputation for what?"
I just hope he is not one of those buffons who think they can win a woman´s heart with tales of his martial prowess or oh so noble station!
You each make your way into the city proper via either the North or Western roads, passing all sorts of shops, taverns, inns, and homes. It would almost seem everyone in Restov carries a longblade, due to the strong presence of the dueling academies and the seat of power of the Swordlords themselves. Your instructions were to head to the guildhall of the Swordlords at noon, and the sun is very much near it's peak in the sky by the time your groups arrive.
Govannon and Galendir's merged caravan are the first to arrive. Trine turns to Govannon and says "It was a pleasure to meet you, Sir Gittins. If your summons here is true, I will likely be seeing you shortly. Galendir, I can make you no promises, but I will do my best to live up to the promise I made you on the road. I am a man of my word.
As the two of you wait, you see another large wagon train approaching from the north. One flying banners of a Noble House and the other seemingly of someone else with significant amounts of coin available to them.
Flaith and Lucius arrive at the guildhall to see a rather large crowd of people and wagons already clogging the streets. However, it is not filled with just laborers, but it would appear to also have some foreigners among their number as well. A small portion of them are clearly dressed in non-Brevish styles.
Before too much mingling can take place, the large double doors open and an attendant in decorative Parade Armor with the insignia of the Swordlords emblazoned on its chestpiece steps out and calls out [b]"The Swordlords welcome you all and invite the following individuals inside to hold Council. Lady Flaith of House Mênan, Master Lucius Pence, Master Govannon Gittins, and a..." the man looks at a slip of paper before adding "a Master Galendir d'Arden."
He turns sideways and gestures for those named to enter.
Once inside, you are lead down a pair of halls with paintings of past Swordlords of note and importance, and beneath each painting hangs an Aldori Dueling Sword. Based on the appearance, it is easy to deduce that these are either the weapons of the men portrayed in the paintings, or well made duplicates hung here as a sign of respect. Eventually you find yourselves brought to a moderate sized meeting room, with a long table capable of seating a dozen men at a time.
Attendants offer you each a seat, while the man who greeted you states "The Swordlords will be with you shortly."
After about a minute of waiting, another pair of double doors opens and in walks two men and a dwarf. They move to seats opposite yours at the table and sit. One is an older man in fine clothing and of regal bearing. The other is younger but still the second oldest human in the room. Govannon and Galendir know him as Trine Fervourblade. The third is a much younger man, but well built and carries himself nobly.
The dwarf is clad in well made plate armor, and has a red hair and a beard. The holy symbol of Torag is proudly displayed on the breastplate, and his beard is braided into a clip fashioned in the same image of Torag's hammer. He sits quietly at the foot of the table, folding his hands together on the tables surface.
The oldest man smiles and says "Welcome to you all. I am Jamandi Aldori, currently the ranking Swordlord here in Restov. Some of the others are away on assignments and other important tasks, so it falls to me to greet you all. I trust you are tired from your travels, and I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your travels are not yet done. Tell me...what have you heard of the Greenbelt?"
Flaith just raises a fine eyebrow and shakes her head.
Oh he has just admitted he is a fraud and not to be trusted.
"I rarely have seen a man carry long weapons at once, if he didn´t knew how to use them. Well it seems you have to compensate for something."Leaning back a bit to hide her face in the shadow she keeps a polite tone, but shows clearly she is not one for sweet talking.
Seeing that Pence is also invited Flaith just smiles and follows the attendant. Taking her seat she nods to the others gathered and waits patiently for the arrival of their hosts.
Keeping her graces she smiles warmly to the gentlemen and after their words replies.
"The Greenbelt is Brevoys southern frontier, between the river kingdoms and our nation. Haven´t you send a few expeditions in that area, to map the land and prepare it for expansion?"
"See that banner?" Govannon asks of Galendir. "That's the house Mênan, a small minor House from Issia that served as bannermen first to House Rogarvia, but now to House Surrova since the disappearance of House Rogarvia."
He chews on an apple as he walks his horse through the town, trusting his men to manage the caravan appropriately.
"The Lord of House Mênan recently died from heart failure, and currently the House is maintained by his wife Lady Flaith of House Medvyed. She is the daughter of the youngest brother to Lord Gurev Medvyed, the head of House Medvyed. She and her husband had not had any children prior to his passing."
He strains to look, though he does not remount which would give him a better view, "I wonder if the Lady is among them?"
Trine turns to Govannon and says "It was a pleasure to meet you, Sir Gittins. If your summons here is true, I will likely be seeing you shortly."
”Thanks my lord. You have a good day, and I’ll see you shortly.”
"The Swordlords welcome you all and invite the following individuals inside to hold Council. Lady Flaith of House Mênan, Master Lucius Pence, Master Govannon Gittins, and a…” the man looks at a slip of paper before adding ”a Master Galendir d'Arden.”
Govannon’s ears prick up and he stubs out his smoke. ”Hey, that’s us. Well, it’s show time.” he straightens his gear and tries to look more presentable, though he manages to only look a little grubby. Still, his mithral breastplate shines in the sun as he strides into the chamber.
Attendants offer you each a seat, while the man who greeted you states ”The Swordlords will be with you shortly.”
He looks across at the two strangers, and says to the man, ”Hey, how’s it going.” before turning to the noble, ”My lady.” But it’s all he gets out before the dwarf enters.
He listens quietly and with respect. When they lady has spoken, he adds, ”Lord Aldori, Lady Flaith is correct, though I suspect the prior expeditions have been less than successful or you wouldn’t have called for a new round of recruits. Has something further gone wrong that we’re to be pushed back out on the road so quickly?” he asks politely.
Galendir smiles.
"Capable indeed, here I made the assumption you were traveling in with that caravan not leading it. The Greenbelt is rough from what I hear. We visited a settlement to the east on our way here. The baron there spoke of something happening to the settlement that was attempted to bet started in the "belt". So you have received a charter then? Sir Trine is going to recommend me to his superiors. With luck my wife and our students will start our own Kitharodian Academy and church of the Dawnflower. I would see house D'Arden return to its noble place. Again you are correct, loyal and capable soldiers are far better than mercenaries. I don't have to worry of my men being bought off. I would rather pay for laborers and builders. Hopefully we will grow something that people wish to come be a part of."
With that Galendir will continue to make pleasantries as they enter the city.
At the Meeting Hall
Galendir waits for Trine to finish.
"I trust you will Sir. I know you are a man of honor." He then looks to Govannon and extends a hand.
"Peace be with you my friend. If things work out perhaps we will have a chance to work together in the future." He says expecting they are parting ways, just until the other groups make their way in and the doors open.
Once in and all are seated. Galendir takes in the words. Not one to shy away from speaking he stands.
"Sir Aldori." He bows. "Sir Trine." He bows "I am sorry I have not had the pleasure of your name master dwarf or yours Sir." Looking to the other human an dwarf. "I am Galendir D'Arden. I am a wanderer, performer, and adventurer. My mother is of Numeria. I was born and raised there. My father was from here Brevoy. I have no proof but was told house D'Arden was once of nobility here. I am here for that reason. Enough of that for now. Let me answer your question. I know the greenbelt is an uncivilized place. I am not sure why. I had the fortune of meeting and speaking with the Baron of Varnhold. He spoke of tragic events befallen the western settlements and that the Swordlords were planning on sending another company to settle. Sir Trine was gracious enough to bring me here to recommend for such an endeavor. It would be my honor to have your blessing on such. I along with my wife and our students will bring peace and teachings. I am a duelist myself. While my style is a bit different I grew up hearing of the swordlords and would very much attempt to keep that culture alive along with our own." He bows again and takes his seat back. He grabs his glass and sips the refreshments awaiting to see what the others have to say.
"My donation to the foundation of your church. It's but a small token, but I hope that it grows to an avalanche for the greater glory of the Dawnflower!" he flicks the coin to Galendir smiling as he heads into the building.
- - -
Jamandi listens intently to each of the answers offered, but arches an eyebrow at Flaith’s reply. ”That is only partially correct, My Lady. We did send expeditions there, but by no means are we Rostlanders seeking to expand there. On the contrary, we are simply seeking to help protect the people of Brevoy by allowing willing souls to settle the land in their own name, taming the wilds there and hopefully reducing the lawlessness and monstrosities that dwell there and threaten our borders.”
Trine leans forward and adds ”It would seem the efforts to the Glenebon Uplands was a failure from the start. We never heard a single word back from the team there. Things in the Slough are hardly any better. Baron Drelev has stopped sending us updated maps, his last missive to us states we have failed to lend him proper support, and as such he was cutting ties to Brevoy altogether. Though Baron Varn in the Nomen Heights has been doing quite well. Things were going smoothly in the Greenbelt, until recently. A warband of trolls ransacked the village of Tuskland, leaving the town a total ruin, the castle a near total loss. It would appear only Baron Valrick was found to survive, but he too died of his wounds after giving the report.”
Jamandi takes out a large map and unfurls it in on the table, turning it to face the four of you so it is easier for you to read. ”This is the most current map we have been able to construct based on the data we have received. As you can see, Lord Valrick and his company was far more interested in exploration than development as his associates of Drelev and Varnhold, a fact that could very well have proven to cost hundreds of lives. This region here,” he points to the area on the map to the west ”are the last known holdings of Baron Drelev from Fort Drelev. And here,” moving his finger to the east ”are the holdings of Baron Varn of Varnhold. And this large patch of land between them is the Greenbelt. We would like you five to go and bring some order to those lands. We expended much of our expendable resources funding Lord Valrick’s attempt, so we are limited in what we can offer you. As such, we sought out individuals who were capable of funding the enterprise themselves. However,” he gives a stern look to Trine, who visibly wilts beneath his superior’s stern gaze, ”it would seem Lord Fervourblade has requested us to find the efforts of one of your number. Lord d’Arden. It would seem you have carried Trine’s favor, and I hope it is well placed as he has staked much on vouching for you. We are going to provide you what supplies and labor we can muster to help you support your new title.”
He pauses a moment to let that sink in. ”Yes, we are granting you all the Title of Baron or Baroness of your own Houses in the Greenbelt. Where one Barony has failed, we hope that five can succeed. However, you will need to determine who, from among your own number, will hold the title of King...or Queen,” he adds the last with a sidelong glance to Lady Mênan. ”We will leave you to discuss this amongst yourselves. But may I first present your associate in this effort. Lord Dolgrin Girndmar of Highhelm,” he gestures to the dwarf at the end of the table, who rises and bows his head towards your group. ”He has volunteered and funded his claim by the sweat of his own labors and devotion to his dwarven God.”
Dolgrin looks Jamandi over and retorts ”The Father o’ Creation, laddie. ‘E ain’t jus’ a God o’ dwarves. More o’ you ‘umans ought ta show ‘im more respect than ye do. But the youngin’ is right. I’ll be joinin’ ye all in this. But I ‘ave nay desire ta be a King. I’ll back whoever ye lot decide ta put in charge. If’n thar be a tie, I’ll only act as a tie breaker.”
Jamandi stands, cueing the other two Swordlords to follow suit. ”Talk amongst yourselves. Decide on who you want to act as your ruler, and then let an attendant know you are ready and they will come let us know. We will then discuss the details further and try and answer any questions you may have at that time.”
He then gestures to the door and his subordinates all begin to file out, though the youngest one does take a moment to give a furtive glance towards Lady Mênan and Jamandi shares an intense look towards Lucius. Trine nods to both Galendir and Govannon as he passes. Once they’ve left, the attendants close the doors behind them and turn to address any need you each may have, be it food, wine, or simple answers to basic questions.
A trusting soul, Govannon believes him completely.
”Lord Dolgrin Girndmar of Highhelm, pleasure to make your acquaintance. So who exactly do you worship?” he begins to wonder at all the religion in the room, and whether it will overly color the decision making process.
Regardless of the answer he turns to the others and nods, ”Though I too carry some noble blood in me, I have no interest in being King. I know my mug isn’t the most pleasant, and I break out in a rash if I’m too clean. Kings and Queens are clean folk, well tempered, the best of their people, and I am not the best.” he smiles jokingly, ”But pretty damn good for all that!”
”So that leaves it between you three. Can’t say as I know any of you well, and you sir I have yet to meet properly at all.” he hoists a drink in the direction of Lord Lucius. ”So I imagine this is going to be tough to sort out. Perhaps you can each explain your bone fides, and we can start with that.”
Govannon takes out some paper and a stubby pencil and begins to make notes, even as he draws the images of the three in question.
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Dolgrin looks to Govannon, somewhat confused at his ignorance. ”Torag, lad! God o’ Creation! Father o’ tha Forge! I kin tell by the shoddy work o’ tha blade ye carry, though, tha’ yer exposure ya ‘is teachings is pro’lly limited.” he says sarcastically, a wry grin spreading behind his well kept beard.
He spends the rest of the journey gossiping with his retinue, and makes sure to hide his two magic weapons once they got in town.
Lucius wasn't expecting to be founding a government today and is taken aback. "Oh my! This really is a special day! Well I'm Lucius Pence, and I guess I am what they call a bon vivant in Galt. I enjoy life and love and art and all their pleasures. Though not personally gifted in any true art, my patronage has helped many beautiful humanoids reach their full potential. I'm afraid being a monarch would cut into my 'me time.'"
Galendir stands again.
"Well my lady." He bows to Flaith. "It seems it is down to you and me. I am a trained entertainer and duelist. While not brought up in the courts I am not estranged to them. Like our friend Baron Lucius I like to have a good time, but part of that for me is in entertaining people. I would find this refreshing in a ruler. One that does not take themselves too seriously. My wife Aayalla and I would spread the word of peace and meet any injustice against it with fiery wrath. She would sit as my queen. The desert rose of the greenbelt. I have nothing more I can say that would sway any of you so leave it at that." He sits back down.
If I am allowed to have the honor I would name him.
Domenicus De Guerlin
Listening intently to the words first by Trine, then Jamine.
We are now all Baron´s? That is incredible!
Then to first Dolgrin´s words, then Lucius confession, finally to Galendir´s thoughts.
Taking a deep breath Flaith finally looks at Galendir.
"My name is Flaith Mênan, born of house Medyved. All my life has been spent at court. So if you need someone to be your leader, I offer someone who is not willing to try it, but who has led for all his live, has experience in it and all the boring small details.
Someone who does not aspire it as a game, but form whom it is a calling. Who knows that each of their actions will have consequences.
Most of you are better fighters, or have other skills, but I can offer experience. Experience in stability, prosperity, but also dedication.
And who knows that kingdoms are led not by the throneroom, but by the councils and on the back of the small people."
Nodding to Gelendir she continues.
"While I am not married, this can be a major boon, as this would give us a strong bargaining chip for the future. "
Galendir chuckles a bit.
"Ah but court is a game. The nobles pretend it's not but they gamble and play with the lives of their people there all the time. I will make no further arguments. As I see we would cast votes for ourselves allow the other Baron's to decide. I am honored to even be here and I will do my part no matter the outcome. It would be an honor to have Baroness Flaith lead us if that is the decision."
Govannon needs some space to think. So he takes out a rolling paper, and some tobacco and rolls a lumpy smoke - a little leaf sticking out here and there. He looks around, and tucks it behind his ear for now. Still, it bought him fidgeting time.
But was it enough?
He licks his lips and looks from Faith to Galendir. Both have their advantages. Both are strong, in their own ways. However, anyone he picks... well... perhaps he makes an enemy of the other.
Hrm... May Desna bless me!
"Lord Galendir, you would make an excellent King, but I'm afraid I must side with Lady Flaith. Though you both have strong arguments to the cause, she is not married, and that is a boon should we find a need to ally ourselves. Hell, even just being single will get some doors open."
He pauses, "Sorry m'lady, I didn't mean to imply anything. Just that having a single ruler does open up some options with our neighbors. Quelling the land will be tough, and perhaps that is the obstacle I should consider, but I'm looking farther down the field."
Looking at Galendir Flaith replies.
"It is not a game. Some people play it like a game! But it is not!
Not for the farmer trying to make a living, not for the soldier sent to a war. As a king the well being of your subjects is the one and only thing that matters!
I am willing to make your firstborn the title regent, till I have children of my own. Just to make sure the line of succession is safe?
This way there is no reason for tension at the first day."
Dolgrin says ”Well, Lord Pence. Who do ye cast yer lot be’ind? Yer tha last one ta vote.”
"Now, this is all fabulously interesting and fun, but I'm not sure if any of us know any of us enough to make such a decision. You both make fine points. It is a lovely game, but it is also dreadfully serious. There is justice, there is horror, there is beauty, there is compromise. And I never trusted ambition much." Baron Pence looks the lady and the fellow up and down. "And, really, what are my choices here? Go with the fair lady or a tie? What would that even mean? So much riding on me, and for once it isn't just beautiful men and women in my bed. One wonders ...does either candidate have something specific to offer ...us? Me? For instance, what are your individual thoughts on ...sexual liberty? Justice for the unreachable? Freedom of religion? Taxation? Cam-PAIGN my dear possible royals!"
"Baroness Flaith, I feel you may mistaken my intentions. I am a man for the people because I am one of them. I would not play with their lives, and enjoyment and prosperity would be paramount. I believe we both feel the same just different ways of saying it. If you are chosen you will not have to distrust me. By our oath of the Dawnflower my wife and I will serve the land and its people no matter who rules. You honor me with such a pledge, but I would worry about that corruption that may spread, so we will have no need for such a title for our first born so should you rule." He bows.
"Govannon you owe me nothing as we have just acquainted with one another this morning. I see you struggle with this. Please don't. My loyalty is guaranteed no matter the outcome."
"Finally Baron Lucius." He laughs. "Such an awkward place to be in already. My personal feelings would not matter so much as I would not presume to rule without the council of my baron's and baronesses. If you need this to help you though. My wife and I love each other deeply ouar oath is to one another and that alone, but as an entertainer I know sex is just sex and love is something different. There would be no rule on sexual liberty as any is free to choose what they wish. Justice would be kept within our borders. Stretching to thin can show weakness I would not presume to police what we did not rule. As Govannon and I spoke this morning my wife and I worship the Dawnflower Sarenrae, but we believe a religious path is for ones own choice."
Flaith bows to Galendir and replies.
"You ask a woman forced to marry about sexual liberties. Well, all I can say, as long as it is mutual consent between two people, that it is their personal freedom.
I hold the same thoughts about religion. Faith is a personal matter.
I personally believe in Desna, but my most trusted follower is a dwarven follower of Torag.
About Taxation. There has to be a taxation, for without income a country can´t build roads, fill its granaries for the times of need. Taxation is from the people for the people.
I am not sure what you mean with justice for the unreachable. Justice can and very often does reach everyone. Sometimes in unforseen ways."
She looks Lucius deep in the eyes and continues.
"And my offer to you is a simple one. We were all selected to rule this area. I will need your voice, your opinion. If we will rule together, each of you can choose a position of merit. As chancellor, as general or as our chief justice."
Govannon listens to the two make their cases.
- - -
Slightly red-faced, Govannon nods and affirms, "My vote stands, though I thank you Galendir for not holding it against me. That's very honorable, and I'll remember it."
As an afterthought she adds.
"And I will keep the dwarven Reinheitsgebot for beer. Only water, barley and hops! Bonifacius, my brewmaster will cry happy tears if I do so!"
"A queen it is!"
Dolgrin clambers his hammer against the table. ”I s’pose ‘at settles it, then!” he says. ”Do ye wanna talk abou’ anythin’ else or do ye wanna call tha Swordlords back...my Lords and Your Highness?” he asks with a smile.
With a bow Flaith thanks Lucius and holds up a hand.
"Please before we ask the swordlords back, do you wish to name your houses? Baron Lucius of house.... Baron Govannon and Baron Galendir. I for myself will not be named Queen Flaith of house Mênan."
Dolgrin looks at Flaith, confused. ”I be stickin’ wit’ me family name, so House Girndmar. If I may be so bold, but why ye be nay keepin’ yer name?”
"There will be a day you will receive my confession. And you will understand my decision! And be proud of me!"
Flaith smiles sadly at Dolgrin.
"From now on I will be Flaith Aredhel of house Aredhel."
"God save the Queen!" Govannon bows in allegiance before standing straight eventually.
"Well, I suppose I'll keep my family name too. Gittens is good enough for me grandfolks, and it's been good enough for me so far, so why not a little farther." he grins.
He's happy the tough decisions of the morning are out of the way. "I have no way of knowing what all you lot are bringing to the table, crew and equipment wise, so it's hard to know what we should request of the Swordlords. They've already said they can offer us little, but if we have an exacting list, we might push them a bit further."
"I say we each write a quick list of what we feel we most lack. Just two or three areas. We compare lists to see if we have it covered already between us, and give the balance to the Swordlords as a wishlist. Then they'll help, or they won't, but at least we'll have tried."
"I will rule House D'Arden. Congratulations to her Majesty." He bows. "It seems I am the weak link here. I come with only my wife and a few students. The Swordlords are backing me based on a recommendation from Sir Trine. I wouldn't know where to begin on what to ask for as I know not what they will be providing. Laborers, build supplies, food. These are all I should need to start."
"Well each of you should choose a place for the base of your barony!
We have the north, close to Restov probably the safest.
The west, looks like forest with all the dangers this means, this could be the base of our building efforts with timber aplenty.
The east it looks like very good farmland with a river, but maybe some dangers.
And the south, also good farmland with plenty of water. But I could imagine the most dangerous.
Finally the center with the lake, I hope this will make fishing possible.
I should take the center. But what do you think
Please give me your thoughts!"
"It would be an honor to take the south my Queen. I will set up here."[b] He points to the little island Candlemere. I will expand east but stay bellow the river leaving those lands for you. This will put me closer to Taldor. I have friends there and it will strengthen our Academy when it is established. If it proves to be dangerous they let House D'Arden be the sword that cuts down your enemies." He says with a bow.
"As, well, a more metropolitan sort, hardly any sort of forester, I'll develop the north."