Day 2, Afternoon
You could get used to this, the children clamoring for stories of your exploits, the envy shining in young mens' eyes when they look upon you, the free drinks, the free food, and the unspoken, and occasionally spoken, offers from scores of women.
By this time, you have invitations to a host of parties in the coming evening, including but not limited to, free drinks at the Laughing Manticore, a challenge to the arm wrestling competition at the Thirsty Zombie, free food and drink at the Stone Wyvern if you’ll but tell a story or two, and most surprisingly, an invitation to the Craven Raven. They even offered to buy you a new set of clothes, “for your own comfort” of course. You also have a more serious invitation. Dinner with Jarmath and Relgus at the cathedral.
Day 2, Evening
You make your way back to the keep with Terik, tired after a full afternoon of competition, eating, and gambling. Entering your appointed room, you strip out of your armor and fall asleep within moments of your head hitting the pillow.
You’re not sure how long you slept but the shadows have grown long by the time you’re awakened by a rap on the door. “Who is it?” you bellow.
“Sorry sir,” comes an answer. “It is I, Sergeant Kroft. I’ve been requested by your father, er, Equis to wake you. He says you have dinner plans.”
“Very well, you answer. I’ll be right out,” you tell him.
“Yes sir. I’ll let him know. One more thing sir. I have fresh clothes for you sir. Equis says your armor won’t be necessary.”
You chuckle. “Very well,” you say again. “Leave them for me.” Rising, you empty a flagon of water in three large gulps, basking in the revitalizing power of the cool liquid.
Moments later, dressed in your new soft leather breeches, calf-high boots, cotton shirt, vest and supple overcoat, you make your way to the main foyer to find Equis and Lars Ulverth waiting patiently. You recognize Lars as the Captain of the Lions of Brindol, Jarmath’s personal army. “Evening,” he says, extending his hand.
“Lars,” you say, accepting it.
“Good to see you again.”
“Likewise,” he replies.
“Oh yes,” Equis butts in. “I forget you two know each other already. Have a difference of opinion when it comes to the role of a militia, if I remember right.”
Lars blushes. “That’s not it at all sir,” he starts.
“Don’t worry about it Lars,” you say trying to put him at ease. “If it’s one thing Equis loves, it’s a debate. Isn’t that right old man?”
“Old?” he explodes. “You know? Dwarves live longer than humans, blessed by Moradin as we are. So based on life expectancy, you’re older than me by damn sight!”
Turning to Lars you smile. “See what I mean?”
The three of you head out into the late afternoon air, cutting through the trees on the short walk to the cathedral. Once there, you’re met by one of Relgus’s attendants who leads you up a long spiral staircase. Eventually, he ushers you through a door and into a room set with a large rectangular table and flanked by two grandiose fireplaces, burning warm and bright. Jarmath is already here, standing on a balcony and sipping from a silvered goblet. The balcony is on the opposite side of the room, where the far wall consists entirely of windows. “Good evening,” he shouts, beckoning to the door and inviting you to join him.
Doing so, you’re astounded by the view below. The room you’re in is fifty feet off the ground, exactly half the height of the grandiose cathedral and directly below the magnificent stained glass that bathes the earth in a wash of color each dawn. Below you lies the cathedral grounds. It’s packed with revelers as they crowd the lawn awaiting the sun to set. Singing and music drift upward toward you, rising on a cushion of genuine happiness. You can’t help but smile as a feeling of wellbeing washes over you. “Almost sunset,” Jarmath remarks. You look up to the west, confirming it for yourself. “What a view,” you hear yourself say. “Oh yeah,” Jarmath agrees. “Just wait. It gets better.”
Day 2, Night
As the sun sets, the celebration begins in earnest. Lanterns, held aloft by poles, cast a soft glow over the square below. You linger for a moment, watching the scene come to life. It takes but a moment to draw you in, whisking you back through time to float within the memories of yesteryear.
“See what I mean?” Jarmath breaks the silence.
You nod with a smile. “I’ve many fond memories of Winter Craft,” you confess.
His brow furrows as he senses your sentimentality. “Those childhood years seem eternal while we live them. It’s only when they’re gone do we realize nothing lasts forever. That’s the gift of naivety, son.”
“Very true,” you agree. “It wasn’t long ago I would’ve been down there. Living for the moment. Not a care in the world what tomorrow might bring.”
“Have things changed that much?”
You turn to face him, the seriousness of your eye matching your tone, “The only thing tomorrow brings for me...” You pause for a moment, exhaling audibly before admitting the feeling that’s been lodged in your heart for some time. “The only thing tomorrow brings anymore, is worry. Often more. Seldom less. But always. Worry.”
Jarmath puts his hand on your shoulder and flashes a tight lipped smile, pride evident upon his face. “Welcome to the role of leadership Kai. It’s a heavy mantle. And I’m sorry to tell you, but you’ll carry it for the rest of your days…”
Leaving the balcony, you’re surprised to discover the table laden with food. Lars stands behind his chair while Equis sits impatiently, his tray already laden with roasted meats and potatoes. Jarmath smiles as he takes his place behind his chair. “Relgus should be here soon, now that the evening festivities have begun.
True to his word, the aged priest enters the room within moments. He looks tired, though he seems in good spirits. Washing his hands in a basin by the door, he towels them dry before taking his place at the table. “Good evening gentlemen,” he says cordially. “Shall we?” he asks, gesturing to the abundance of food. Bowing his head he says a quick prayer, “Be present at our table Lord. Be here and everywhere adored. These mercies bless and grant that we, may feast in fellowship with Thee.” Sitting, he looks about. “Eat. Eat,” he beckons.
Dinner is shared amid small talk covering a variety of topics, weather, the festival, and the winter wheat’s forecast among them. As the meal winds down, Relgus dismisses the attendants. “Well now,” he starts. “Shall we discuss more important matters?” It doesn’t take long to figure out why you were truly called here.
Over the course of the next hour your respect for the four men around you grows considerably, and it’s painfully obvious, you’re not the only one familiar with worry.
“The news arriving from Drenai is bad. Three emperors now? Damn fools will pull the temple’s roof down upon their heads before it’s all said and done. And we’ll be the only ones left to sort it all out!”
Lars picks up where Jarmath left off. “Garrisons are being recalled all over the empire, pledging allegiances to whomever they think has the fortitude to win this thing. Or deserting... I hear half of Lott’s men just left when he pulled out of Dennovar.”
“Could we use any of them?” Relgus asks.
“No doubt. I fear we’ll need every soldier we can find, but I wouldn’t take any of those louts. Lott was undisciplined and corrupt. His junior officers too. No. I reckon they’d do us more harm than good.”
“What’s this talk I hear about them declaring independence?” Relgus asks.
“Dennovar?” Lars clarifies.
“I doubt they’ll officially declare themselves an independent city-state,” answers Jarmath. “But in a sense, they already are. Make no mistake about it. The Merchant Council now enjoys absolute rule.”
“What do suppose will change?” you ask.
It’s Equis who answers. “Taxes for their citizens, that’ll be sure. More than likely we’ll see tariffs on trade goods too. I’d wager they’ll open trade with Vagria soon, if they haven’t done so already. It won’t surprise me to see ships plying the Elsir again.”
“Really?” Relgus asks, surprised. “It’s been thirty years since we’ve traded with Vagria. Does the Merchant Council have the ships?”
“Don’t know for sure. But I bet so.”
“How will Overlook react to all this?” Jarmath asks him.
“Same as always. They’ll ignore it until it puts a dent in their treasury. After that, it’ll be hard for Brindol to remain neutral.”
His words have a sobering effect.
“You were right to leave here Equis,” Jarmath concedes. “I hate to admit it, but it looks like your doomsday prophecy is beginning to materialize. I never would’ve thought an empire as mighty as Drenai could end so abruptly…”
“Pah!” the dwarf shouts. “All things end Jarmath. No sense getting nostalgic about it. Besides, we haven’t necessarily been sitting idle. Tourean has grown strong over the last decade. We number nearly fifteen hundred now. Most of who, as you know, were brought in for their fighting skill.”
“How stand your forces, if you don’t mind my asking?” Lars inquires.
“I don’t. Seven hundred fighting men in all, five hundred of which are heavy infantry. We have a light cavalry of another hundred and the last hundred are skirmishers. Scouts, light horse, and archers.”
“Impressive,” Lars comments.
“You have been busy,” Jarmath agrees.
“Aye,” Equis confirms. “We have.”
“So,” Relgus speaks up. “We have Dennovar to our east and Overlook to our west. We are all in agreement that we’ll be caught between them at some point?”
“It is, unfortunately, inevitable,” concludes Lars. “The vale provides twenty percent of the empire’s food. Somebody’s going to want it.”
“Agreed,” says Jarmath, “Though I don’t think our problems end with those Dennovar and Overlook.”
“Go on,” urges Relgus.
“There’s a new force just emerged from the Thornewaste. A dragonborn warrior-chief by the name of Magorax. He calls himself Legate. From what I’ve been told, he seeks to see Rhestilor restored to her former glory. I don’t yet know how his forces are arranged or their strength in numbers, but I know the land around Rhest is now a swamp. And you can’t feed a city of any size on swamp weed and mudfish.”
“Have you entreated with him?” Relgus asks.
“Not yet. But Lars met with one of his emissaries yesterday. He wants to meet with me. I put him off until the festival’s over.”
All eyes shift to Lars.
“Well?” Relgus asks. “What’s he like?”
Lars shrugs his shoulders. “First and foremost, he’s a soldier. One look at him and you can’t deny it. His armor and weapons are of a fine quality and he carries himself well. Other than that, he was cordial and polite. But insistent. Wouldn’t tell me what he wished to discuss. Said he was under orders to only talk with, and I quote, “His Honorable Lordship, Kerdan Jarmath, Esteemed Veteran of Drenai and Ruler of Brindol.”
“Impressive,” says Relgus.“Sounds like my cousin Dougal,” Equis adds. “Pretty words. But he’s still an asshole…”
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