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Warlords of Prydain
Topic Started: Jan 3 2014, 11:56 AM (1,083 Views)
lamna
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The bitter January wind wormed its way though Osberga's thick silks and cottons. Winter was uncomfortable and hard for the peasantry, but it was a time of peace. Few lords wished to rebel while they had to march though freezing mud and snowstorms, and all but the most foolhardy Nords and Fryskes pulled their longships ashore during the dark months. Those that did had to deal with rough seas and unnavigable frozen rivers.

She retreated, shivering, inside her new square keep built in the continental style. The castle might be much safer than the great halls of her forefathers, but far less comfortable. It did give her a commanding view of the capital of Lune on the icy river Tam. And I've got the only one in the whole of Prydain.

Other castles were being built of course, and old burhs and hill forts were being reinforced with stone, but for now the Tower of the Moon was the strongest fortification in the realm.

Her valet Culhwch coughed as he seemed to materialize out of thin air. "Ma'am the foreigners will be getting impatient if you wait much longer."

"I'd rather let them stew a bit longer, but you're usually right about these things. Who's brought a begging bowl to my hall today?" Culhwch opened the door back into the keep and disappeared inside. Dagmar pushed inside, looking furtively inside, her red locks flailing as she scanned the corridor for assassins. Once satisfied the safest place in the realm was not compromised, the huge Nord nodded and allowed her in.

Culhwch reappeared "Today there is a rather large trade delegation who claim to be from the Caliphate, three Norte knights ready to swear their undying loyalty to you, if you give them lands and titles, and an assortment of other ruffians from here to the Sunrise Ocean."

"Claim to be from the Caliphate? What reason do you have to doubt their credentials?"

"Well, their signet rings are obviously fake, it looks like they have the correct mould but made these out of bronze rather than gold. Plus their bodyguards are obviously Norte knights. The Caliphate would never use heathen bodyguards for an official trade mission. These have the look of Ishbiliyya smugglers to me."

Dagmar grinned "Want me to smash then boss?" She gripped her great axe in anticipation.

"Not just yet, we may be able to use this to get a better deal from them." The huge woman looked dejected. "Don't worry, I'm sure those Nortes will find a way to offend me. Remember when I found Ser Hugh lounging in my throne as though he owned it?"

Dagmar grinned at the memory, then sobered. "Sorry for smashing chair boss."

"It's quite all right, I can afford many more." She nearly cried when she realised she's hacked off the wooden mare's head. No tears for Ser Hugh's though.

The party turned a corner and entered the great hall. The assembled crowd stood bolt upright as her huscarls thumped the butts of their spears on the cold flagsones. The herald boomed. "Her Highness Queen Osberga, Queen of the Fearnish, High Chieftain of the MacEircheard, Earle of Lune!"

Osberga sat down on her great oaken throne with Dagmar and Culhwch taking their places at her side. She cleared her throne . "Lords, Ladies and Layfolk. Let's begin"
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Vaanes Kabasilas stood off to one side in the throng of people, noble and common, here to see the Fearnish Queen. An Aeariaun Elf with shoulder-length wavy black hair, olive complexion, aquiline nose, spidery fingers, cold and emotionless silver eyes. Tall and lean; he appears like a scholar at first glance, but his posture is that of a trained swordsman. He pulls his tartan cloak with its distinctive pin, a sign of his allegiance to Prince Meredith of the Principality of Rhostir, a little tighter against a draft. He wore a thick continental coat, embroidered in the current fashion, over a more traditional display of a long Aeariaun tunic and mantle; there was no mistaking him for a local. While others clamour for the Queen's attention, he is content to wait, examining the barely ordered rabble in the hall. Bored, he plays idly with a pendent about his neck, a mere trinket to those who know no better.

While on the whole he'd been disappointed over the past few years with the rulers of these northern lands, Osberga had impressed him. While others may have been fooled by her gentle, demure exterior, the delicate-looking Queen was an iron gauntlet covered daintily in silk. She had more than enough cunning and fire to find a place high in the ranks of the Imperial Court, especially in the straits it was in right now, and that quickly earned Vaanes' attention and admiration. For now, he waited for the rabble to be forced back into order, but he cared not for them- his attention was on the Queen, and how she would act. He was not here simply for appearances' sake- he had a mission from Prince Meredith, and paying attention to the Queen would be essential. Today would begin an interesting journey.
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Once the formalities are concluded horns of ale are passed around as Osberga mingles with the crowd. It's not strong but not watered down either, the delegation claiming to be from the Caliphate drinks heavily. Osberga starts talking with them quietly in a corner and it it soon becomes clear that she knows very well that they are smugglers with nice clothes. After much sweating and hand-wringing they agree to pay a much higher tariff than they had been hoping for.

Osberga rejoins the crowd and after talking to a tall blond Nord and strange looking heavyset woman, with darkly tanned skin and braided black hair, almond shaped eyes. You try to overhear their intense conversation but Osberga notices moves over to you.

"So, why has Prince Meredith sent a foreign wizard to my court? Come to charm me perhaps?"
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Vaanes smiles warmly- though it never touches his eyes -offering the queen a deep, courtly bow

"I am surprised that you know of my skills, your majesty. Not many people meeting me for the first time know what I do. As to the intent of Prince Meredith- it is hardly something so troublesome; there is not enough blood in Prydain to weave a spell to bind you. No, my Prince has sent me here to improve relations between Rhostir and Fearnland. I, specifically, was chosen for this mission as I'm a Pennaeth of the Principality and have... other means of defending myself than just my position and tenuous relations between two nations."

He smiled, sipping lightly at his ale. He had heard of how envoys that Osberga didn't like tended to... disappear. Most memorably, the Norte lord Ser Hugh, who'd been cut down by Osberga's bodyguard for sitting in her throne. More likely, it was because of his rudeness and domineering attitude. Vaanes had no intention of meeting such an undignified end- he had survived the Aeariaun Imperial court and its tangled webs, and he certainly wouldn't allow himself to be bogged down by niceties and the irrelevant gossamer gossip of the court.

"Prince Meredith takes great pride in the independence of his nation, and the Prython people. You, your grace, have gone to extraordinary lengths to unite Prydain, and still the Prython Principalities resist." He paused, smile never faltering "I am familiar with the highest nobility, your grace, I lived in the court of Emperor Accarindo. You are not a woman with mild ambitions- no matter the facade you put before the court. Another reason Meredith chose me over other potential envoys- I see and sense what others do not." And he began to sip gently at the ale again, waiting to hear Osberga's response.
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"So, Prince Meredith wishes to improve relations. Perhaps he will start by returning my subject's property." Culhwch appears as if from nowhere with a large ledger and hands it to the Queen.

"Lets see, Meredith of Rhostir. Four hundred and forty three head of cattle, seventy nine sheep, eight mares, three stallions, one gelding, two pigs and four geese. Nice pounds of gold, two and a half pounds of silver. All stolen. Four murders, seventeen assaults, nine kidnappings." Osberga gives you a hard look and quietly closes the book. "If your prince turely wishes to improve relations he can pay weregild for his crimes."
Edited by lamna, Jan 6 2014, 03:28 PM.
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Vaanes nods, thinking carefully, going over the sums in his head. "The laws of Prince Cyfraith, the laws that have been held in the lands of the Prython people for over a hundred years, have different fines than your Fearnish laws regarding weregild." He thought a bit more, taking out a small tablet of his own, a pad of wax in a wooden case and a finely-crafted stylus.

"The cattle will be returned according to their equivalent value under Prython laws. The sheep were stolen, but under the laws of Cyfraith can only be refunded by equivalent value- this shall be done through their wool, or products made with the wool, which shall be returned to the herdsmen of the sheep. Foals and fillies of the mares and the stallions will be given to the owners of the stolen horses, and the gelding will be returned, as will piglets in exchange for the sows, and birds of equal value for the ducks and geese.

Gold and silver values, and appropriate weights, are different between the Prython Principalities, and the Fearnish. The same values and weights in the Prython way will be returned to your court.

For the murders, galanas will be paid out to the families of the deceased as computed according to their social status and position from Prince Meredith and his family.

Under the laws of Prince Cyfraith, sarhad may only be paid out if those assaulted rank above or are equal to a Pennaeth, and dirwy will be paid out for the kidnappings, and those kidnapped will be returned. I will assume that all those kidnapped were women? I do not spend much time in the court; I prefer my own lands. Is this satisfactory, your majesty? I speak with Prince Meredith's power and authority here- I cannot be refused by his people when an order comes."

He puts away the tablet, and shows a letter, signed with Meredith's seal, that says that any loyal subject of Rhostir is to obey the orders of the one who carries it as though it was the Prince's own will.
Edited by Zinnorokkrah, Jan 6 2014, 03:40 PM.
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"I'll be honest I expect flustered stuttering. He's sent someone worthy this time." She takes the letter and examines it closely. "That's his nasty scrawl all right."

"The girls have already been rescued, the surviving ones anyway. All were sold to the Nords of Dyflin and have been purchased or recaptured. I don't care what names you call it, they need compensation as the the assaulted. They were given the money in advance out of the royal treasury and I don't like to be short changed. I rather suspect I outrank Pennaeths.

As for the livestock, I suppose that's the best I can expect out of the demon. Make sure your Prince understands that this is his very last chance. If he launches one more raid he will regret it, and so will anyone foolish enough to follow him."
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Vaanes inclines his head at the compliment, taking the letter back, and replacing it with his tablet, wiping out certain notes and replacing them with others

"Each girl will receive sarhad and dirwy of a woman of the rank of Teyrn. This would be equivalent to an Earl among your people. It is quite an extraordinary price for women taken in a raid, but seeing as your majesty is taking the matter upon your own honour, this is fair and just. It should also more than cover the gold and silver Prince Meredith owes you. The Prince shall surely understand this warning, and I hope he will obey. Alas, I am but a Pennaeth, and cannot truly offer the advice of a peer to my lord. However, I assure you, your grace, that I am no fool." He says the last with a smile, and then removes another letter from his coat- this one bearing again the royal seal of Rhostir, but the writing within being the clean strokes of a scribe.

"This, your grace, is the true matter of why I am here. This is an official document, entailing a request from the assembled nobility of Rhostir that I represent their interests here in your court as a resident envoy. Of course, I shall provide food and lodgings for myself, and will not strain your gracious hospitality. When I must leave the court to attend to matters in my own lands, a representative will remain here on my behalf, but not with my authority. He shall only take down and note matters which I am to know of, and all that this information entails shall be dealt with upon my return to court. Do you find these terms acceptable?"
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"Much as I'd like to bleed him dry that's the best I think I'll get out of the brute. As for you remaining here at court, having a permanent representative from Rhostir here would be useful. I do think it would be for the best if you told your Prince about these reparations personally. Perhaps you know him better than I do, but I doubt he would give so much willingly."

Osberga writes down her agreement and seals the letter, handing it over to you.

"But I will warn you, Lune is not a safe place when times are tough. There was a thriving Nord community here before Gunnvaldr invasion, but once he started burning the countryside and killing peoples relatives there were terrible riots. I did what I could but, but there were very few Nords left alive in the city come dawn. Pray your Prince does nothing foolish, and invest in a strong townhouse."
Edited by lamna, Jan 6 2014, 06:48 PM.
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Vaanes nods, taking the precious document and tucking it into his coat, he replaces his tablet alongside it and hands off his horn of ale to a passing servant.

"Prince Meredith will most certainly not be willing to do such a thing- he considers his raids justice for the ancient wrongs done against his people by yours, back when the Old Empire fell. But he will indeed accept these terms, admittedly with much petulance, because he would not wish to bring destruction upon his people.

I thank you, your grace, for this advice, and can assure you that I have no intention of ending so ignobly as being murdered in a riot. I shall indeed invest in a well-outfitted townhouse, but I would remind you of something. I am an Aeariaun Elf- all I need to do is shed my cloak and keep my head down, and none will be the wiser. Fear not for me- I have more ways than one to keep myself safe. If you would tell me something of the workings of your court before I leave, I can have a house appropriated by the day's end and be on my way to Rhostir. It is so tiresome trying to observe a court in action."
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"If you're going to spending a good deal of time here then you should know who's who I suppose. As you may have guessed, I am Queen and have the final say in matters of state. Then there is Chancellor, Taraghlan MacEircheard my right hand man who acts as my deputy and takes care of duties that I do not have time for. There is my marshal Cyneweard, who is in charge of my personal guards and the army when we are at war.

Then there is my Coin Master, Lady Rhian who is in charge of collecting taxes and maintaining the treasury. Ser Baldewin de Thiberville is my First Builder, who in charge of maintaining the realm's infrastructure and building my castles and towns. Lastly there is Archbishop Osgar and the Mayor of Lune Eadwine the Old."
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Vaanes nodded again, repeating the names and titles quietly to himself, memorizing them as carefully as his incantations and rituals, and filing them away for later use. "My thanks, your grace. If you could direct me to Mayor Eadwine so I may get myself a house here in Lune I would be most grateful."
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Osberga does and some hours later you meed with the man. At first he is harsh, even rude, he is clearly a busy man who doesn't put up with any nonsense.

"You need somewhere to stay long term? Some foreign lord are you? Well there is Gwen's Inn where you could stay for the moment, lots of Norte knights like to stay there while they pester the queen." He scratches his chin thoughfully.

"Osbeorn has the nest best Inn. It's a good quality place with a very clean whorehouse just across the street and he never asks any questions about queer folk, but it's very close to the cattle market and it can really stink on market day. Cola is from foreign himself, he is a trustworthy fellow but his Inn's never quite recovered from the Pig Riots a couple years back, so it's a bit ramshackle." He goes back to scratching his chin again.

"I suppose you'll be wanting somewhere permanent to stay, otherwise the Queen wouldn't have sent you to me. I could sell you Tanner's Lane, it burned down two years ago and is still waste land. People just use it for keeping pigs these days. You could dig a good moat there and build yourself a very comfortable and safe house. I'd recommend checking out the site yourself though. It was a tannery after all, it's probably fine by now bit it might still smell of piss, you never know."
Edited by lamna, Jan 6 2014, 07:59 PM.
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Vaanes tilts his head, thinking, without taking his eyes off of the brusque mayor. He, evidently, had no care for politics, and probably wouldn't trouble himself with the issues of the court. An honest man, likely a very straightforward; excellent for doing business with.

"If you could show me about the property of Tanner's Lane I would be most grateful. Despite appearances, I care not if the site still smells of its former trade. I am in search of a place for rest and safety in tough times- not a place of luxury, nor an estate. My business in Lune will require me to spend almost all my time at the court, or journeying about. If I like the place, I'll buy it from you. Today, in full, no questions asked, and return within roughly two weeks to begin work on the property. Afterwards, I would most certainly like it if you could direct me to Gwen's Inn. Business is business, Master Eadwine, and mine requires immediate attention."

The Mayor grumbles a bit, but after some moaning agrees and fetches a few clerks to follow him, leading him to Tanner's Lane, and upon their arrival following a thorough inspection, he buys the land on the spot after knocking down the price to something approximating its actual value. After buying the property, Vaanes retires to Gwen's Inn, and seats himself at a table out of the way, ordering a meal and trying to listen to the chatter of the room when a swaggering band of Norte knights- all presumably half-drunk -stumble guffawing loudly at some rude joke into the inn.
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The next morning before you leave one of the Aab smugglers approaches you and offers to sell various books. One is in familiar elliniki, but the rest are Aabic texts. Some are about animals and plants, other about astronomer, the others seem to be about the arcane.

The road you came by has been flooded, forcing you to take the longer route though the countryside, passing small villages and towns, and once past the remains of a crumbling Odogamon villa.

While you pass though you observe the different lords that rule just across the Hafren river from Rhostir. Three earls rule across the river. There is Beornwulf, a huge man with a thick beard and a fearsome temper, renowned as a fierce fighter. Apparently he hunts boar with his bare hands.

Second is Leodmar, a boy who has only seen fourteen winters though he is so small he looks more like he's ten. He is mad for horses and chansons and everything Norte. He's also half in love with Princess Odella and joins her patrols whenever she is near.

Finally there is Ubbein the Maid, a man with a smooth face, delicate features and flowing blond hair. It's rumoured that in private he wears gowns and shares his bed with his own men. Fellow travellers seem in awe of Beornwulf while laughing at the other two, though they seem to think Leodmar might grow up to be a decent Earl.

Eventually you reach the river and are ferried across.
Edited by lamna, Jan 7 2014, 09:01 AM.
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