- 1 9th January
- 2 17th January
- 3 24th January
- 4 28th January
- 5 29th January
- 6 29th January
- 7 30th January
- 8 = Summer Evening - Fronepu
- 9 31st January
Summer Day - Rengo
"A new temple! In Fianik, it says." Gomersall read and re-read the announcement for further details he might have missed.
"Won't last. The beasts will be on it within days."
"But..surely the walls?"
"Ha!" Mud laughed scornfully. "You've never been to the volcano, have you? Fire badgers, and they're just the start."
Gomersall thought quietly for a few moments.
"Then we will go and defend it!" he said.
"Defend it? We?"
"Yes, we," he answered, and took up his walking staff.
Summer - Tepmona
Timsen raises an eyebrow at the mention of a false name for Frobisher Cavendish. He checks several documents, letters, and registers. Then groans when he confirms that he erred on the name. What a mess to drag that poor woman through.
"Hestor, please bring me a stiff drink. Apparently I am too sober to be properly writing apologies and offers of aid."
Summer Evening - Tepmona
Word spreads, as words tend to. The common folk far and wide live on the tales of merchants and travelers, looking to live a moment in the shoes of the Nobles of Belueterra.
Merchants bring tales of the great city of Wudenkin being cleared, and the streets being cleared so that stalls and shops can resume. Speaking of markets and potential riches of a central trade city, removed of the dangers of undead.
Squires and aspirants speak of great battles against the dead, how the men and women if this new Order laid their lives on the line for the people of Verdomite, fighting to their last breath until liberating the villages of Verdomite from their horrid oppressors.
Bards sing songs of heroes, the Maidens of War "Tempest" "Storme" and "Gildre", battling with sword and axe enough to split the realms heart in half. They spin tales of the Shadow Alchemist, Azizah, and the shaman Seior, and of the Crimson Judge who chooses the axe the size of a grown man, as his gavel of law.
Fathers scare their children with their stories of Winter's Wizard, who brings the winter with him upon the back of a massive wolf, snatching up people to be eaten, his bite fiercer than that of frost.
All of them elude to, but avoid to spin the tale of the center of it all through an unsettling omniscience. Lord Silverblade, the Duke of Vordul Sanguinis, and soon to be Emperor of the Sanguine Empire. Blood and shadow, what they refer to as the Eternal Blood.
So do the rumors spread, and one thing remains consistent among them.
Wudenkin is open again, to trade, for adventure...
Summer Day - Fronepu
Brand waited till one of the lowest rank servants of The Queen's Household was walking alone. Without any hesitation, Brand caught up with the servant and made sure that person would spread the word that some kind of foreign commoner is around, selling several scrolls.
Summer Day - Fronepu
"Your Majesty," the Lady of the Privy Chamber entered the Queen's private quarters and curtsied, her formal court dress and manners in stark contrast to the informality of Aiblidhn's loose-fitting linen gown as she lounged on her chaise longue reading, a half-eaten box of rosewater candies and a sheaf of aged parchment on the neighbouring occasional table.
"Yes Morag?" the Queen looked up the book she was studying and stretched, covering her mouth with her hind to stifle a yawn.
"There's talk amongst the palace servants of a new bookseller hawking scrolls and other oddments. Do you wish me to have a servant inspect his wares?"
"I think we can do a little better than that Morag," Aiblidhn set her book down, "Djiev..."
"Ma'am?" the Queen's valet had this disconcerting knack for being just where he was needed, when he was needed.
"We're going shopping."
"Very good ma'am."
Summer Evening - Fronepu
Fronepu, Location "Poor Men's Quarter".
Brand had been waiting near a small shrine for some time now.
Exactly the spot he told the servant he would be waiting; 3 times a day.
Brand always liked to watch people being busy ... well.... for a few days.
Suddenly he noticed a small difference although all the people around him looked the same ....
..... It had been in the air...
.... A smell
..... Something like that strange bar of soap thing he never understood....
Aibhlidhn savoured the opportunity to wander the streets of the capital without her usual military escort or wargear, remembering her youth of dashing balls and great public spectacles in the tranquil cities of the distant Elven Republic, back before her grandmother's summons to fight in the last Invasion had drawn her across the wild ocean. For the first time in many years the burden of command was lifted from her shoulders, passed to General Greyson and Marshal Valgerður, and the Queen was determined to enjoy her newfound freedom and the opportunities it offered.
Of course it was something of a conceit to imagine herself unguarded when her Royal Fusileers were running hourly sweeps throughout the city's stews under the watchful eye of the demanding Captain Caedberga, detaining undesirables with the deft efficiency to be expected from Beluaterra's most feared soldiers. Aibhlidhn pictured her aide de camp pacing in the war room, studying the disposition of pickpockets and thieves the same way she'd tracked the companies of Caelint and Angmar and Nothoi during the Gotland campaigns. Judge Outo Olavi's magistrates would certainly have their work cut out for them dispensing justice as the Captain never shirked from her duty and the Queen had every intention of enjoying her holiday.
Few nobles anywhere were held in higher esteem by the common folk for their courageous deeds in battle or their unwavering noblesse obligé than the Queen of Ar Agyr, a fact of which she was charmingly unaware, and she had that knack all great commanders have not only of remembering names and faces, but of setting their bearers immediately at ease. And it was quite apparent to anyone who saw the Queen that afternoon that she was indeed as much in love with her people as they with her, stopping at the many stalls and shops of the commercial district, purchasing small gifts for her friends with just the degree of haggling good manners demanded, and yet somehow always paying an extra silver or two more than her purchase justified, oblivious to the admiring smiles she received wherever she went.
Behind her Djieves maintained his usual sombre demeanour, at once both valet and bodyguard. The Queen's relationship with her manservant was a close one and she'd chosen him as much for his perspicacity and cool head as his domestic's skills, though he never disappointed in either capacity. The valet was flanked on either side by two smartly attired young pages of the Court holding baskets to carry the Queen's shopping. Truth be told Aibhlidhn would have been quite happy to carry her own shopping but protocol would have obliged the ladies of the Court to follow her example and she couldn't see that being taken well - at least not in private.
There was of course more to this excursion than met the eye, and as the afternoon wore on Aibhlidhn and her companions found themselves approaching a certain shrine on the outskirts of the slum district, an area rarely frequented by members of the nobility let alone royalty.
= Summer Evening - Fronepu
Fronepu, close to the shrine.
It did not take long before Brand noticed the two persons nearing the shrine.
One of them was focusing at the shrine and at some people around it; the other one seemed more interested in the people around themselves.
Good news, he thought; The Queen did sent two servants.
Usually, one was carrying the coins and would do the trading, while the other one was protecting the person with the coins. well... at least protecting the coins.
Brand walked to the couple.
... good afternoon, I hope you will buy some good paperwork and as such, you will not disappoint your Queen...
Summer Evening - Fronepu
For now, dear servant ... for sale ....
Magic Armour (x2)
Glow of Health