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Tales from the Lands of Winter Fay: Part 4: Royal Court and an Attempt at Diplomacy
It seemed never to stop snowing this winter and though it was but December trackers and trappers already wore the long narrow snowshoes they normally saved for the later depths of winter. But that did not stop King Hermóðr from holding court outside this evening. Like all Vanir, he had a natural affinity for cold and snow and he greatly enjoyed the way Vanir glamour of his courtesans and family interplayed aesthetically with the moonlight on the gently falling snowflakes. His features were calm as he enjoyed the brisk winter evening air. He wore an iron hauberk and a broadsword lay leaning against the throne upon which he sat. Ever-young and proudly bearing the scars of his hanging, he appeared every bit the role of the noble hangadrott, sacred warrior-knight and king of the Vanir people. At his side, perched serenely on a wooden throne delicately carved and inlaid with silver sat his new wife, Queen Eochaid Indai. Of Tuatha Dé Danann blood, she did not share the Vanir resistance to cold and her thin frame was wrapped in finely tailored ermine fur robes. Those with the most noble of blood might penetrate the royal glamour to make out a girl-child, the newborn princess, Delbáeth (a tuatha name) squirming beneath her robes. Standing near them was the youngest of the princes, Ulfric,who had inherited the king’s first wife’s black hair and thinner build. Never the natural warrior that his older brother, Sven, was, Ulfric was gifted with a calculating mind and interest in politics and diplomacy that served him well in court. The court itself was made up of many warrior-jarls and leaders of the guilds. The Desir witches were not in attendance. If the royals or nobles had need of them, they would go to their caves deep in the mountains for the Desir did not come to court often.
Across from the royals stood four Vanir who’s stature and width was greater than any other in court. Taller by half a foot than any others present and probably nearing four to five hundred pounds each, they were the embodiment of Vanir elite warrior-hood. Despite their build, they moved with an uncanny, almost supernatural, grace. Their strength, grace and especially the black wolf-fur pelt they wore marked them as the most elite of the Helvan warriors; these were known as the skin-shifters and there were only four. The men were known as Steinvor, Ulfeid, Gudrik, and Raudebjorn. The frist three had only just returned from the southern woods where their scouting expedition had led them to violent confrontation with the scouts of the Empire of Barslov. Raudebjorn, for his part, had returned from a sailing expedition into warmer waters searching for a site blessed by the dead goddess with natural fish banks, timber, ore and fertile soil. In rough growly voices suggestive of the wolf-form they would assume in battle, they were finishing their tale that the king, the noble jarls, and the scribes might know what befell them in the southern woods.
Throughout all of Éljúðnir, many a serf or freeman’s tongue spoke of the Barslov ship and its sudden unexpected appearance at the wharves. Naturally isolationists, the majority of the population were glad they had left but a vocal minority, especially those in the guilds were critical of the reception that had been provided to the southerners. These argued that the King or even the nobility should have greeted them to try and establish ties and good-will. But they hadn’t, reasoning that foreign sailors of mortal blood were beneath them and any effort by Vral’s court to speak with them should have been spearheaded by a royal, a prince or some other high-ranking noble.
At court, the skin-shifters had similar feelings, though their reasoning was different. The king asked them why, “Ulfeid, you speak of the Barslov serfs with obvious sympathy but as soon as you mention the soldiers or gentry you are obviously hostile and refer to their king as ‘Vral the Bloody’. Why?”
The warrior’s yellow eyes shone with an unconcealed excitement he didn’t bother to hide, “The Wolven Mantle has changed me; its changed all of us, of that there is no doubt. The Desir witches who imbued them with the essence of the wolven curse did not just pass on the wolven shape, strength and speed that has made us what we are today, it also passed on some of the finer points of the curse. The curse hates the one known as Vral, his soldiers, and his bloodline. It pities the weak and those who, unarmed, might be slaughtered. Those feelings are mine now, for the curse is part of me now and I am a part of it. I cannot help but hate the man who is responsible for the massacre and if you ask me what massacre, I cannot tell you- I only know that the curse is one of vengeance, for the blood of innocents spilled. You ask, my king, why I call him ‘Vral the Bloody’ and I can only answer that truly, the name is not one I give, but that the curse gives. No- there should be no peace with these people as long as that man is their emperor; slay Vral, and bring peace to his people and to the spirits trapped by the curse he called.”
Behind the king, Prince Ulfric caught the eye of one of the guild leaders mouthed something that seemed to satisfy him for the guilder quickly nodded, then cleared his throat, “Father, we have had word from the Barslovian people. They would like to live in peace with us. We must consider this. Even Ulfeid who would encourage war and conquest makes mention of their elite ‘Brazen’. I am no coward and I do not fear these men but there are many more of these Brazen than there are of our Skin-shifters and to think that our serf-militia, despite their numbers, can stand against the disciplined ranks of the Brazen is to underestimate their discipline, training, and weapons. No father… there is nothing to be gained from war; instead, let us live in peace, side by side, and perhaps we can even trade with them and prosper.”
For the majority of the court, the prince’s words were anathema and most of the nobility were disagreeing quietly with his words as he spoke but others, especially the guilders and some of the more progressive nobility were anxious to agree adding, “The prince is wise,” and, “Let us not waste our treasures on an unnecessary war.”
The four hulking warriors wearing their wolf pelts argued for raids by sea and through forest. The nobles agreed. They argued at the lack of respect shown to the Vanir by sending common sailors to speak with them. They spoke of the natural superiority of Vanir fey blood over man’s. Prince Ulfric was persuasive, diplomatic and well-spoken, again having inherited from his mother and his coalition gained ground with arguments of patience and the need to learn more even if later there would be war.
Ulfric’s way was not his fathers but the queen spoke next. Her people were not a warrior race like the Vanir. The tuatha were more prone to diplomacy and trade and she, like them, was loathe to spill blood, even that of men, without good cause. It was her words finally that swayed the king and so he proclaimed, “Go forth Ulfric and serve as my ambassador to these men of Barslov but should they insult us or our noble line, I will place your brother inc command of the war-parties and you know he is a man of the steel and blood and not of words.”
In the early morning a raven was sent south with a message for Vral of Barslov,
To Vral of Barslov, who is called Emperor,
From Prince Ulfric of the Helvan
Greetings to a man of noble blood and peaceful spirit. Know that our people do not extend the hand of friendship easily to men of crimson blood. I speak with an authority granted by my king but should he be insulted, I will lose that authority and we will lose our opportunity at cooperation and friendship.
That said, I will make the trip to your capital that I might learn of your people and ways but my father the king will insist that I am treated in a manner befitting my royal blood. I am more patient but he will not bare insult to my person or more importantly my nobility. I hope that you understand the circumstances of my viist.
That said, I am very eager to establish cooperation between our people and many of my friends in the guilds are even more eager to establish trade.
Let us toast to mutual respect and cooperation and I look forward to soon meeting you in person.
Sincerely,
Prince Ulfric
It seemed never to stop snowing this winter and though it was but December trackers and trappers already wore the long narrow snowshoes they normally saved for the later depths of winter. But that did not stop King Hermóðr from holding court outside this evening. Like all Vanir, he had a natural affinity for cold and snow and he greatly enjoyed the way Vanir glamour of his courtesans and family interplayed aesthetically with the moonlight on the gently falling snowflakes. His features were calm as he enjoyed the brisk winter evening air. He wore an iron hauberk and a broadsword lay leaning against the throne upon which he sat. Ever-young and proudly bearing the scars of his hanging, he appeared every bit the role of the noble hangadrott, sacred warrior-knight and king of the Vanir people. At his side, perched serenely on a wooden throne delicately carved and inlaid with silver sat his new wife, Queen Eochaid Indai. Of Tuatha Dé Danann blood, she did not share the Vanir resistance to cold and her thin frame was wrapped in finely tailored ermine fur robes. Those with the most noble of blood might penetrate the royal glamour to make out a girl-child, the newborn princess, Delbáeth (a tuatha name) squirming beneath her robes. Standing near them was the youngest of the princes, Ulfric,who had inherited the king’s first wife’s black hair and thinner build. Never the natural warrior that his older brother, Sven, was, Ulfric was gifted with a calculating mind and interest in politics and diplomacy that served him well in court. The court itself was made up of many warrior-jarls and leaders of the guilds. The Desir witches were not in attendance. If the royals or nobles had need of them, they would go to their caves deep in the mountains for the Desir did not come to court often.
Across from the royals stood four Vanir who’s stature and width was greater than any other in court. Taller by half a foot than any others present and probably nearing four to five hundred pounds each, they were the embodiment of Vanir elite warrior-hood. Despite their build, they moved with an uncanny, almost supernatural, grace. Their strength, grace and especially the black wolf-fur pelt they wore marked them as the most elite of the Helvan warriors; these were known as the skin-shifters and there were only four. The men were known as Steinvor, Ulfeid, Gudrik, and Raudebjorn. The frist three had only just returned from the southern woods where their scouting expedition had led them to violent confrontation with the scouts of the Empire of Barslov. Raudebjorn, for his part, had returned from a sailing expedition into warmer waters searching for a site blessed by the dead goddess with natural fish banks, timber, ore and fertile soil. In rough growly voices suggestive of the wolf-form they would assume in battle, they were finishing their tale that the king, the noble jarls, and the scribes might know what befell them in the southern woods.
Throughout all of Éljúðnir, many a serf or freeman’s tongue spoke of the Barslov ship and its sudden unexpected appearance at the wharves. Naturally isolationists, the majority of the population were glad they had left but a vocal minority, especially those in the guilds were critical of the reception that had been provided to the southerners. These argued that the King or even the nobility should have greeted them to try and establish ties and good-will. But they hadn’t, reasoning that foreign sailors of mortal blood were beneath them and any effort by Vral’s court to speak with them should have been spearheaded by a royal, a prince or some other high-ranking noble.
At court, the skin-shifters had similar feelings, though their reasoning was different. The king asked them why, “Ulfeid, you speak of the Barslov serfs with obvious sympathy but as soon as you mention the soldiers or gentry you are obviously hostile and refer to their king as ‘Vral the Bloody’. Why?”
The warrior’s yellow eyes shone with an unconcealed excitement he didn’t bother to hide, “The Wolven Mantle has changed me; its changed all of us, of that there is no doubt. The Desir witches who imbued them with the essence of the wolven curse did not just pass on the wolven shape, strength and speed that has made us what we are today, it also passed on some of the finer points of the curse. The curse hates the one known as Vral, his soldiers, and his bloodline. It pities the weak and those who, unarmed, might be slaughtered. Those feelings are mine now, for the curse is part of me now and I am a part of it. I cannot help but hate the man who is responsible for the massacre and if you ask me what massacre, I cannot tell you- I only know that the curse is one of vengeance, for the blood of innocents spilled. You ask, my king, why I call him ‘Vral the Bloody’ and I can only answer that truly, the name is not one I give, but that the curse gives. No- there should be no peace with these people as long as that man is their emperor; slay Vral, and bring peace to his people and to the spirits trapped by the curse he called.”
Behind the king, Prince Ulfric caught the eye of one of the guild leaders mouthed something that seemed to satisfy him for the guilder quickly nodded, then cleared his throat, “Father, we have had word from the Barslovian people. They would like to live in peace with us. We must consider this. Even Ulfeid who would encourage war and conquest makes mention of their elite ‘Brazen’. I am no coward and I do not fear these men but there are many more of these Brazen than there are of our Skin-shifters and to think that our serf-militia, despite their numbers, can stand against the disciplined ranks of the Brazen is to underestimate their discipline, training, and weapons. No father… there is nothing to be gained from war; instead, let us live in peace, side by side, and perhaps we can even trade with them and prosper.”
For the majority of the court, the prince’s words were anathema and most of the nobility were disagreeing quietly with his words as he spoke but others, especially the guilders and some of the more progressive nobility were anxious to agree adding, “The prince is wise,” and, “Let us not waste our treasures on an unnecessary war.”
The four hulking warriors wearing their wolf pelts argued for raids by sea and through forest. The nobles agreed. They argued at the lack of respect shown to the Vanir by sending common sailors to speak with them. They spoke of the natural superiority of Vanir fey blood over man’s. Prince Ulfric was persuasive, diplomatic and well-spoken, again having inherited from his mother and his coalition gained ground with arguments of patience and the need to learn more even if later there would be war.
Ulfric’s way was not his fathers but the queen spoke next. Her people were not a warrior race like the Vanir. The tuatha were more prone to diplomacy and trade and she, like them, was loathe to spill blood, even that of men, without good cause. It was her words finally that swayed the king and so he proclaimed, “Go forth Ulfric and serve as my ambassador to these men of Barslov but should they insult us or our noble line, I will place your brother inc command of the war-parties and you know he is a man of the steel and blood and not of words.”
In the early morning a raven was sent south with a message for Vral of Barslov,
To Vral of Barslov, who is called Emperor,
From Prince Ulfric of the Helvan
Greetings to a man of noble blood and peaceful spirit. Know that our people do not extend the hand of friendship easily to men of crimson blood. I speak with an authority granted by my king but should he be insulted, I will lose that authority and we will lose our opportunity at cooperation and friendship.
That said, I will make the trip to your capital that I might learn of your people and ways but my father the king will insist that I am treated in a manner befitting my royal blood. I am more patient but he will not bare insult to my person or more importantly my nobility. I hope that you understand the circumstances of my viist.
That said, I am very eager to establish cooperation between our people and many of my friends in the guilds are even more eager to establish trade.
Let us toast to mutual respect and cooperation and I look forward to soon meeting you in person.
Sincerely,
Prince Ulfric