Dubhaine Family/Brigdha/Roleplays/2017/December
10th Dectember
Day -- An Najaf
Brigdha
"See dear, this is how your father plans to bring peace to the North," Brigdha passed her brass spyglass to her young companion and guided her eye to the encampment in the valley bottom where various prominent knights were lecturing a captive audience of An Najaf's leading families on liberty whilst armed guards looked on.
"My father wants to-" Glory's tone was indignant.
"Shhsh m'lady," Kris put his finger to her lips, "we don't want to attract attention."
"My father wants to bring them freedom," the fire in her young eyes matched her insistent whisper, the spyglass for the moment forgotten.
"Oh Glory, you have a lot to learn about life if you think freedom can be imposed with a sword," Brigdha put a hand on her shoulder.
"And what do you know of freedom!" Glory pulled away, shaking with anger.
"You ask me that?" a wry smile soured Brigdha's lips, "I've fought the war your father now fights and it cost me my sister, my niece, my grandniece - all the line of blood which binds our two Houses. And you ask me what I know of freedom? I've known your father since long before you were born Glory, and I've seen him at his best... and at his worst - neither were amenable to reason," she took the spyglass and returned it to her satchel.
"And who are you to judge him? A interfering old busybody who spends her days talking with fat merchants and ignorant peasants!"
"A interfering old busybody perhaps child, but I'm old enough to have seen this story play out before," Brigdha turned to the valley below, "and that's why I don't judge Garas. I pity him."
Alfhelm Sussex
Alfhelm had been in a commandeered inn, reading a book of Sirionite history, when one of his network of spies and scouts reported to him that the woman he had been seeking to speak with for some time had been spotted.
"Are you sure?" he asked the scout.
"Yes m'lord. She was accompanied by a young girl and a handful of servants. The militia spotted her but let her pass, however they noted the house sigil on one of her possessions. She is undoubtedly of the House Dubhaine. I left two men to monitor her movements covertly."
"Hmmm," mused Alfhelm. "Well I suppose that she does have free right of movement under our laws as both a priest and a diplomat, so the militia acted properly."
He rose to his feet and put on his cloak.
"You did well to keep her monitored. Take me to her."
Sometime later Alfhelm and the scout rode up to the place where the priestess had last been spotted, overlooking a valley encampment of Highmarchian forces.
Captain Baldric had nearly had kittens when Alfhelm had insisted on travelling alone, but had obeyed orders and kept the Sussex Lancers confined to guarding the inn.
Thus the Representative for Winkamus was quite alone when he dismissed the scouts and rode up to the rise and called out "Hail Lady Ambassador! Might I join you?"
After all, there was no need to startle them and end up with a knife in his eye for his trouble. That would be a most unsatisfactory end for the next Vox of Highmarch.
Garas Gabanus
Goran said "I suppose...Hello Father...and how are you would be the best way to start the conversation." he said with a smile on his face.
Garas just looked at his son, the Prince of Oligarch, although he seemed just am anxious boy now, damagednin some unknown way. It hurt Garas a bit. All he had tried was to protect his family and he has felt a failure since the day he got captured, tortured for months unable to help them, only to find Catherine disappeared upon his escape. Now he saw his son for the first time in years and he just felt pity and shame.
In his younger years Goran was such a playfull boy, who loved to sing and play. He was good at it too, although Garas always insisted on his military training, making him strong. He now misses those times, those songs and the smile Catherine had when she heard him sing. Those were the only times she smiled around Goran, but now that smile is gone and no song will bring it back.
This and much more went through his head as he looked at Goran and so he smiled and looked sad at the same time.
"Now that you have returned I am a happier man," he said "Perhaps now it is time for us to have your sister return as well. Now come and sing me one of your songs."
Rand Al Thor
As Rand walked amongst his men, he wondered if the region of An Najaf would bend to the will of the Highmarch forces and come willingly into the fold and protection it can offer.
Scanning the horizon he didnt notice any signs of enemy forces planning an assault. Though there was lots of movement in the camp all seemed in order, except, yes that is Lord Alfhelm riding out of the camp, strange to go riding so late.
Dismissing the Lords movement from his mind, as he is but a Lowly Knight and Lord's movements is not his concern he enters his Field tent and reads his last received orders from Lord Garas, instructing him to temporarily take command of An Najaf once the region has been annexed.
Looking at Victor, his scribe sitting with the latest reports and messages he say's,
"I wonder if these orders are still valid, these where issued before we where routed from An Najaf, best would be to get clarification. Victor, pen a Letter to Lord Garas and ask for instructions regarding An Najaf and if my last received orders still stand. Make haste and send our fastest messenger"
"Aye My Lord it will be done with all haste"
Sitting back in his chair he ponders the outcome of this campaign, and a time he is back in Aestus looking after his people and Estate.
Brigdha
Message sent to all nobles in the region An Najaf (50 recipients) Hrolf watched the lone horseman approaching the bluff from his hide, the dust from the horse's hooves drifting lazily on the light summer breeze back towards the distant detachment of lancers. Judging by his bearing and finery the man was a high-ranking nobleman and Hrolf's trained eye unconsciously measured the angle of his killing shot as the horse drew into range.
"Hwuuuurt!!! Hwuuuurt!!!" the rider's approach had been marked by a second pair of eyes, perched a quarter-mile away in the branches of a parched oak.
"Pyrwhipt!! Vyroot!!" he returned the signal, easing the bowstring.
"And what might your business with the Ambassador be, young lordling," a stooped crone wrapped in a ragged cloak, leaning what little there was of her on a gnarled staff, limped slowly and painfully from the undergrowth.
Alfhelm Sussex
As his horse trotted towards the bluff Alfhelm felt, but could not see, eyes watching him. He could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck and it took a conscious effort not let his hand drift to his scabbard.
When the crone called out to him and emerged from the undergrowth, Alfhelm brought his horse to a halt and dismounted, patting her flank.
"Good day to you grandmother," he greeted her respectfully, inclining his head a fraction.
"I am the Chief of Commerce of Highmarch, and Representative of Winkamus. I have, for some time, been seeking to treat with an ambassador of Shadowdale on behalf of the south. I also wish to offer her my hospitality, should she wish it, while she is in An Najaf."
Alfhelm furrowed his brow as he tried to make out the face half hidden by the hood of the cloak.
"Are you a servant of the Ambassador? Could you direct me to her? Or," he said, an idea suddenly occurring to him and his eyes widening, "is this some cunning disguise? Am I in fact addressing the great lady herself?"
Garas Gabanus
While most of his men were off giving freedom celebrations in the city, Garas decided to move towards Alfhelm's camp as he wished to discuss a few matters with him. As he arrived at the camp, his captain at first refused to tell him where his master had gone, but Garas placed his hand upon the shaft of his sword without actually drawing it and looked at Baldric with a most evil of looks. It's unclear whether or not it was his hand on his sword, or the look, the face of a burned man, or perhaps his reputation of being highly temperamentful, it didn't matter as ultimately Baldric told him where his master had gone.
"Lady Brigdha is here?" he walked towards the horses of Alfhelm's camp, cut one loose and as he got on he turned to Baldric "You, make sure word is sent to Prince Goran Gabanus of Oligarch, do not make me learn you haven't. Tell him to meet me at the Ambassador's place and tell him where it is! Now go!" and as such he rode away himself. Baldric must have looked confused for a moment as this man was not his master, yet gave him orders.
And so Garas rode out, perhaps a few minutes behind Alfhelm, on his way to Brigdha.
Brigdha Dubhaine
"It seems the lad's perceptive m'lady - for a southerner..." Kris rose from the ground beneath Alfhelm's mount, spooking it, dust falling from his cloak as he sheathed the wicked hooked knife in his left hand.
The crone took a step forward, eyes gleaming beneath her cowl, mesmerising the steed, "You're just upset Kris that your party piece wasn't needed."
"Hrolf! Anagrith! Stand down! Seems lordling's off the menu today!" the bushwhacker grinned as his voice boomed over the bluffs.
"So it's an Ambassador you seek is it?" the old woman let the hood fall away, revealing straggly white hair and a toothless grin, "Then I suppose I should oblige."
The crone's hands moved with surprising swiftness, her staff rising and falling in a single fluid movement entirely at odds with her hunched, misshapen form. The butt struck the ground with a dull thud, and as it did a great many subtle glamours fell away, limbs straightening and flesh plumping, fabric mending and wood warping as the Balancewalker resumed her courtly form.
"Countess Brigdha Dubhaine, Ambassador of Shadowdale at your service Representative Alfhelm. How may I be of assistance?"
Alfhelm Sussex
Alfhelm managed to maintain his composure when the knifeman rose from the ground, but utterly failed to do so at the countess's transformation.
His eyes watched with fascination and amazement as her appearance transformed.
This is true magic, he thought, this is real sorcery, not the nonsensical mutterings and hocus pocus of the mages of the Tower of High Sorcery back in Isadril.
When Brigdha had finished her transformation, Alfhelm realised, to his chagrin, that his mouth was slightly open. Closing it, he regained his composure and turned first to the knifeman, Kris, or whatever his name was. He would let the snide remark about being a southerner pass, but there was one matter which he would not - and which would allow him to cover his embarrassment at acting like a slackjawed fool at Brigdha's transformation.
"Your devotion to defending your mistress is admirable," he said sharply "but it is extremely rude to startle a perfectly innocent horse. Daisy's a gentle soul and could do without cut-throats appearing from underneath her."
Then he turned back to the countess and bowed deftly, before smiling disarmingly, his boyish looks and cheerful blue eyes for once working to his advantage as they made it clear he was definitely no threat.
"Lady Ambassador, it is a delight to meet you. Firstly, I bid you welcome to what should, by dawn, be Highmarch. As a priestess you are welcome here and I would be pleased to offer you my hospitality should you wish to stop observing us from afar."
A knowing, mischievous smile touched his face for a moment as he said this, before his tone and countenance became more serious.
"Secondly, however, I wish to enquire under what terms Shadowdale would be prepared to withdraw from this war. I understand fully that that would be the kind of conversation which would require lengthy correspondence, but I hope that would be a discussion you are willing to entertain?
"Thirdly, and somewhat contradictorily, I had considered asking whether you would be interested in making your home in Highmarch and bringing Aureus with you - but if all of Shadowdales warrior are half as skilled as your men then I suppose you may be too confident in defending it to consider joining the other side."
The last he said with a wry smile at his own expense for he had been truly astonished at what he had witnessed. Was this Sirionite sorcery? Or was it the Way of the Shadows? Or something else entirely? Either way, he thought ruefully, it was unlikely he would ever find out.
Garas Gabanus
Garas rode the horse quickly, pushing it forward with every movement, hastening to his goal. When he was close he could see Brigdha transform in front of Alfhelm's eyes, although he was still too far away to hear what they were talking about. Garas didn't care much about any of it. He didn't want to know why they were meeting, it didn't even cross his mind. All he cared about was reaching her as quickly as possible.
"Lady Brigdha, up to your old tricks I see," he said with a smile, but before he allowed her to answer he quickly added "Where is she?" Before he had finished speaking he had unmounted his horse already and let it go. The horse stood still, most likely well trained, but none of it caught Garas' eye. It wasn't even his horse after all.
Brigdha Dubhaine
"Excuse my hotheaded cousin Lord Alfhelm, his daughter's been in my charge for some time, studying at the Grey University in Karbala, and he's anxious to be reunited," there was a brief rustling in the bushes and an unarmed young woman emerged, dressed in russet serge tunic and leather riding britches.
"Papa!" the girl's face broke into a guileless smile as she rushed to embrace Garas, "Oh Papa! I've missed you so much!"
"Glory's studies have progressed well," Brigdha's face remained impassive as she watched the reunion, "Her tutors say she has a natural gift for scholarship."
In the months since Brigdha spirited her great-grandniece from the Siege of Oligarch she'd become very fond of the girl who was now almost like another granddaughter to her. Well, perhaps not a granddaughter considering her complicated relationship with Etain, but certainly the girl commanded that same fierce affection which cemented the Dubhaine matriarchy.
Returning Glory to her father's influence when she still had so much to discover about the Dubhaine ways was far from ideal, but Garas was not a man to be trifled with, a ragged scar consuming the fabric of reality. To see that gentle jade flame guttering as the winds of limbo roared all about it brought back memories of Queen Catherine lying in that darkened high chamber, surrounded by the stench of madness and decay. The sorcery Brigdha worked to save the Queen had cost her dear: two great years of slumber, her soul adrift in the High Firmament...
A heartbeat, then a second, then a third.
Brigdha turned to the young Representative from Winkamus, "It's my duty to talk peace Lord Alfhelm, even when the prospects seem very slim indeed. But as to Aureus, well my people are a quarrelsome bunch and forthrightly attached to the Shadow King's beneficent rule... as I'm sure your friends from Fallangard can attest."
Alfhelm Sussex
There were times when Alfhelm felt in complete control. When he felt as if he could see with crystal clarity every last small piece of the world. When he knew what people were going to say before they said it, exactly what to do, whom to speak to, and precisely what to say to manipulate people into making his plans work.
And then there were other times, like this, where there were far too many unexpected surprises. Too many unknown factors. He felt the faintest touch of panic starting to rise inside him... then gathered himself and squashed it down mercilessly, forcing himself to place a polite smile on his face while he silently watched this unexpected reunion and tried to restore his grasp on his surroundings.
This girl, this Glory, is she Gabanus's daughter? he wondered to himself. Once again the man proved to be an enigma with a past that Alfhelm felt he would never truly know or understand.
He suddenly realised that his eyes were lingering too long on the girl's face. No, the young woman's face, he corrected himself. She was undoubtedly beautiful but Alfhelm averted his eyes before he could embarrass her or himself. Or enrage Gabanus, he thought.
Instead he glanced around, taking in all the members of what was starting to feel like a gathering, before he head Brigdha speak to him. Her words, at least, were something he knew how to react to.
Finally feeling somewhat self-assured again, he turned to reply to Brigdha, this time fastening a warm smile on his face.
"Thank you Lady Dubhaine, but please, if you must call me by any title, then call me Citizen. We have no lords in Highmarch. Though," he reflected ruefully "we do currently have two foreign princes."
"But I am most glad you are willing to talk peace. I might have been hoping for enthusiasm for the notion but I will not spurn dutifulness. Not when it offers the potential to avoid needless bloodshed. I must confess that I'm not surprised by your answer on Aureus - though perhaps we might have a chance to discuss it again after Fontan falls?"
Alfhelm moved a little closer and lowered his voice, and glancing over at Garas and Glory. "But first I must ask - that young woman - would she be Knight Commander Gabanus's daughter?"
Brigdha Dubhaine
"I prefer to think of her as my great-grandniece, but yes, that is Lady Glory Gabanus, late of Oligarch and daughter of your Knight Commander," Brigdha slipped her hand into her satchel and rummaged for a few seconds before withdrawing a small waxed-paper bag of candies. She held the bag towards Alfheim and then to Kris.
"Thanks m'lady," the bushwhacker withdrew a sweet and popped it in his mouth with a wolfish grin. The two remaining members of Brigdha's party sauntered from the undergrowth, longbows slung over their shoulders, a well-built man with the bearing of a professional soldier dressed in a mixture of faded greys and browns, and a slender woman with the distinctive features and sharp eyes of elfland, her garb shifting to suit its surroundings as she moved.
"Forgive me, I haven't introduced my travelling companions. You've met Kris already and this is Hrolf," Brigdha nodded to the newcomer, "they like to think they're my bodyguards though I often feel its me who's doing the guarding."
Mirthful laughter came easily to the three of them, that effortless camaraderie soldiers develop when they've been through hell together, and it was clear that their relationship was more that of close kin than mistress and servants. The elf woman on the other hand was emotionally distant, her expression unfathomable and her body too calm for human comfort.
"And my female companion is Princess Anagridh Serpentis, of the Avamar Serpentis. She likes the hunting in these parts," which left the question of what she was hunting unanswered.
Had Alfhelm the sight he'd doubtless have recoiled from the balefire limning that fair elven form and the skirling rhythms as blood danced through her alien arteries. But then if Alfhelm had the sight he'd probably be far more concerned by Garas than Brigdha's elven in-law. But sadly such wisdom was lost on the men of the south...
Yeghandr Anderfhstim
"Both Glory and Anagridh will serve their husbands fine. Maybe not Anagridh if this war continues. She may become an offering to Ulgaro. Do not worry though. She will know all earthly pleasures before she joins with Ulgaro. My men and I will make sure of that." Said Yeghandr while laughing with his men.
He could already imagine Anagridh's flayed body tied to a tall tree after serving every single one of his men. She would be please Ulgaro greatly through her suffering and pain. Her screams will fill his ears and her blood will fill his hunger.
11th December
Day -- An Najaf
Garas Gabanus
Garas embraced his daugther for such a long time that he had the feintest idea of time, nor did he care. Moments of happiness were rare to him and he hadn't known them since he lost Catherine, save for the return of Goran and now Glory.
"You grow more beautiful by the day," he said with a smile as a single tear went down his face. His eyes now looked into hers, her beautiful clear blue eyes like her father used to have. She happily stared back at his. It almost seemed as if she did not see the burned scarring which covered his face. "Papa, your eye, it's blue again?" She suddenly exclaimed with a mixture of surprise and happiness.
Garas had not looked at himself in a mirror fo years, but none of his men had told him either. His eyes now were of different colors. One as blue as the ocean waves, and the other still the piercing red they became after the last Dark Magic attack by the elves on him. The attack had left him burned, enflamed, scarred, but stronger at the sane time as an intense hatred took over. One could only speculate as to his condition, especially now.
After talking with his daugther some more, kissing on the forehead a thousand times before he would hug her once more, he ultimately walked to Brigdha and Alfhelm again. Without paying heed to the negotiations they were occupied with, Garas placed a kiss on Brigdha's cheek "Thank you," he said in a strong and emotional way "I'm sure Goran would love to see the two of you as well. Tell us all of your adventures!" he said as he turned back to Glory. "Lady Brigdha my dear, you will join us as well I hope? The rest of yours can join camp as well and have some supper."
It was only now that it seemed as if he had truly noticed Alfhelm. "Lord Alfhelm, please join us as well. If you wish to do diplomacy you should get to know the ambassador better," he said with a smile. It was unlikely that Alfhelm had ever seen him smile before this day, or even portray an emotion other than anger and hate.
Rand Al Thor
The Army staging ground was abuzz with activity. Fletcher's and armorers busy nonstop, scouts and scribes rushing from one camp to another carrying all kinds of parchments and messages. The smells of cooking fires waft around the laughter and music of men happy to be alive for yet another day.
Rand was busier that usual, orders arrived from Lord Garas with instructions on the current occupation of An Najaf, Rand felt overwhelmed by it all. As a young Knight this, the Occupation and well being of the people of An Najaf so far was the greatest responsibility laid on his young shoulders yet, and he was going to make sure nothing interfered with his duties.
“Captain Aelfmona, our orders are clear we are to hold An Najaf for the time being, or until ordered otherwise. I feel the other Nobles, Knights and Lords will be getting ready to move soon. Station our men to the Lords Keep for now and secure the grounds also set guards and patrols. With so many Nobles and Lords in the region we have to assume they would want to meet and discuss our plans on the war effort. Make the Lords keep open to them, and Aelfmona you are in charge of their safety, don’t disappoint me.”
Captain Aelfmona nodded in agreement “My Lord, with so many nobles and Lords expected to arrive, I would like to make the suggestion that no more than two attendants escort them into the Lords Keep, security and their wellbeing will be assured by the Dragons Teeth.”
“I agree, also make sure that there is enough food and drink available at all times. We will not let it be known that Highmarch skimps on their Celebrations. If there is nothing else, you may get the men moving and start the preparations.”
“Aye my Lord”
As Aelfmona made her way out of the command tent, Rand slowly started to gather his sword and shield and stepped out into the madhouse that is the Southern Army, with a faint smile on his face.
Hrafn Skovgaard
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest A Strange in the Nest
What's this? The monsters are all missing And the nightmares can't be found And in their place there seems to be Good feeling all around Instead of screams, I swear I can hear music in the air The smell of cakes and pies Are absolutely everywhere
"I am Sir Hrafn of the clan Skovgaard, son of Erik Eyolf Serpentis, Sultan es-Selatin, Conqueror of the North..."
The young crow put the letter on the candle flame and let it burn. He was not in Sirion anymore and Higmarch was not exactly interested in who his father was. If even in Sirion that didn't mean much, imagine there, in a Democracy. Hrafn was a Republican with tendencies to Imperialism, like his father. They saw Democracy to be a soft, effeminate version of true Republican values. While a Republican should stepped in and made his will to be heard by the vote, the Democrats hid in an anonymous crowd, leaving the vote of a majority speak by itself. It was better not to start off on the wrong foot, for Highmarch was not the destiny, just the path. However, he could not help but notice the differences. Leaving Sirion and joining Highmarch was like leaving a graveyard and joining the ball. While one was moribund and silent, the other was vibrant and noisy. Except for Garas, they were all strangers to him, though Sirion was not much different nowadays. It was like stepping out thr silence of the temple ruins and entering the market.
Hrafn: "Do you remember the tale about the Sultan who dressed as a beggar to walk among his people? I think it will be appropriate now. Fly low for a while. Keeping quiet and discretion..."
"I think you're old enough to know. The original tale is about an adventurer who stole one of my chests while I was traveling. For a while he would dress and try to behave like me to seduce the countrywomen. When we caught him, instead of hanging him, I gave the poor man a bottle of wine and a pat on the back. He deserved it. I don't think your mother would like this version..."
He shook his head, got up and opened the tent's entrance and looked out into the organized chaos that was An Najaf now. That was a brave new world and it wouldn't be easy to keep quiet. How long could he dance to that masquerade without being noticed? Fontan would have to be a quick job. Being under Gara's command would be very strange, even despising Ecthelion and all the other old mummies and young idiots.
The sights, the sounds They're everywhere and all around I've never felt so good before This empty place inside of me is filling up I simply cannot get enough I want it, oh, I want it Oh, I want it for my own I've got to know I've got to know What is this place that I have found? What is this?
Alfhelm Sussex
He smiled politely during the introductions, then bowed to the princess but kept his eyes on her - something about her made him instinctively wary, like a hare in the presence of a falcon.
But then Alfhelm calmed himself and once again found his confidence. He was a man of power and authority, and right now he was protected by common courtesy.
Under other circumstances things might be different but right now there was no threat to fear from these foreign nobles who still clung to the outdated titles of royal regimes that would be swept away in time by the new age of democracy.
A genuine smile of friendliness warmed his face as he straightened his back.
"It is an honour to meet you princess. I have heard many great things of your family..." he began, only to be interrupted by Gabanus striding over and kissing Lady Brigdha's cheek.
Under normal circumstances he might have been annoyed at having been utterly ignored by Gabanus, for all that he was used to the man's abrasiveness. But the genuine warmth of the smile on the man's face caught Alfhelm by surprise.
In all the time Alfhelm had known him he had come to think of Gabanus as more like a weapon than a normal man, for it seemed as if any humanity had been burned out of him by the attacks of Sirionite sorcery. All that was left, Alfhelm had thought, was a barely restrained hatred and the military genius that made him the single most potent weapon the south had - a dangerous weapon which could just as easily turn on them as aid them.
So Alfhelm had grown used to alternately arguing against Gabanus and then advocating for him. He had grown used to remembering Gabanus's goals and advocating for them as if they were his own. He had grown used to making himself necessary for Gabanus's plans so that, in turn, he would benefit from Gabanus needing to support Alfhelm's own ambitions. After all, he certainly would not be in line to be the next Vox of Highmarch if Gabanus had ever turned against him...
But this, this was new. Alfhelm found himself reappraising the man and for the first time felt he had caught a glimpse of the character which had compelled so many to follow him as a ruler in his own right and not just as a general.
"I would be most glad to join you Knight Commander," he said. "I always find that diplomacy goes easier once all involved have broken bread together."
Left unsaid, but thought was, I would not mind spending some more time in the presence of Glory either...
Brigdha Dubhaine
Brigdha's mind still dwelt on that moment on the bluffs, even as the unlikely assembly approached the encampment in the valley below.
For as long as the priestess had known Garas he'd been a proud man, unwavering in his certainty and remorseless in its execution, so the gesture of familiarity was most unexpected. Perhaps his feelings for his daughter might yet prove the monster's unmaking and the man's resurgence...
Ever courageous in service of a good cause, Brigdha accepted the chance fate afforded, leaning close as she returned the kiss, her counsel a soft whisper for his ears only, "Don't just look Garas, see!"
The Southern Army cast a mighty shadow in the High Firmament, even with half it's battalions departing, and Brigdha was reminded of Fontan at its zenith. But just as the coalition at Fontan's heart had been proven a lie, so the unhealthy hue and squawking facies which crowded all about suggested darker motives at work.
Whilst the councils of the north took fright at the revolutionary ideals of Vix and Highmarch, and the fashionable drawing rooms of Shadowdale were full of talk of peasant insurrection and the overthrow of divine order, Brigdha was less certain.
"This smells of politics," Anagridh spoke in her mother tongue, her relaxed demeanour and the melodic syllables at stark odds with her stark choice of grammatical framing: the recognition of deceit concealed from its author. It had taken Brigdha a good decade or more of constant usage to master the subtleties of such constructions, and another to frame her own thoughts with equal clarity in the Heru Mellen.
"Freedom is the wind, death is the ocean," she replied in the common tongue, a smile spreading slowly across Anagridh's face as she savoured the tale of the Swan Captain, an ancient Elven saga of dark passions and bloody betrayal which had nothing to do with either Swans or the ocean and left very little to the imagination.
"So Lord Alfhelm, have you visited An Najaf before?" Brigdha turned to the young Chief of Commerce.
Night -- An Najaf
Alfhelm Sussex
"Why yes I have Lady Ambassador," Alfhelm replied, walking at her side and deciding to ignore the cryptic remarks which had just been exchanged.
"Quite a few times in fact. But always on the business of war. On the last such visit we were on the verge of convincing the peasants to embrace the freedom of Highmarch, only to be defeated by a northern host which soon terrified the region back into compliance.
"And now history repeats itself, once again we find ourselves on the eve of battle with a northern host bearing down on us."
A faint, mirthless smile touched his face. "But this time it will go a little differently. An Najaf his ours and the northmen will break themselves on our army."
Then Alfhelm sighed, glancing around at the scenery.
"It is a shame though" he remarked. "This place truly is quite beautiful. A hidden gem in the shadow of Fontan."
He turned back to Brigdha. "I envy you in truth. As an Ambassador and a priestess you are free to travel, to see so many parts of this great continent. I envy that freedom - for I am trapped in a cage of my own choosing, either bound to the capital by administrative duties or travelling to battle. Scarce indeed are the chances to truly appreciate the beauties and wonders of the different realms."
Garas Gabanus
"Don't just look Garas, see!" she whispered in his ears, but he was uncertain what she really meant. He knew Brigdha well enough to know she was hinting at someone, but today he would not think about it. The thought would no doubt recur in his mind some days later, but as he looked at his daugther he could not bring himself to think of the meaning of these words. He walked behind Brigdha and Alfhelm together with Glory when Alfhelm made his reply to the shadow priestess.
"I envy you in truth. As an Ambassador and a priestess you are free to travel, to see so many parts of this great continent. I envy that freedom - for I am trapped in a cage of my own choosing, either bound to the capital by administrative duties or travelling to battle. Scarce indeed are the chances to truly appreciate the beauties and wonders of the different realms."
Garas smirked for a moment: "Beauties and wonders of the different realms?" he repeated "What wonders my friend? The City of Oligarch where the elven tyrant now hangs his banner? Or the White City with its famous towers now claimed by some upstart rebels, or shall we visit Xavax, nearly devoid of population or Perdan City where a hundred years from now people will still try to conquer it, or burn it down? Or perhaps the wastelands in the north of Nivemus, the famous Tree of Oroya, corrupted by politics and dark magic? Wherever you go, you will only see blood and death, at least for the next decades. I've been nearly everywhere on this continent, it's all the same in the end."
When he was finished speaking, Glory shirked his sleeve "Papa, don't be so melodramatic. The badlands of Nivemus are quite beautiful to ride a horse and the White Tree mama always spoke about, it's still beautiful papa, promise me that we'll go together one day! The world is beautiful!" Garas shook his head for a second "I'm sorry my love, you are right. The world is a beautiful for such a splendid being as yourself, not for men like me," he said "But whenever I see you and your brother, you are my beauty in this world and wherever you are the world is beautiful. If only I could return you your home." He looked at her, no longer smirking, but with a deep and long stare.
"And the White Tree?" she asked, noticing the change in her father's voice she saw an opportunity. "Your mother and I are still to go there, bless our marriage under her sacred tree, but with the war and Nivemus' hostility, we never had the opportunity." He didn't further answer her question and now fell back to the memmories of his wife. "So Alfhelm," he quickly said to change the topic and remove attention from himself "You like An Najaf better this time around?"
