AA's Kingmaker Part I: The Stolen Lands

[ApatheticAbacus]

"Then you have done our order an honour, girl," Jamandi replies to Katerina. From behind, Swordlord Petyr gives a slight, cryptic smile.

"Indeed," the Grandmaster says with a sharp nod as Tireas speaks. "We believe the same. But..." Her face darkens as she looks at Ilya, clearly recognizing the prince.

"Prince Ilya," she says with a long pause that makes the air grow chilly despite the day's warmth. Her subordinate Swordlords exchange glances, Vanya scowling quite openly. "We had heard news that you had gone missing. I had not thought to find you in the wilds."

Ilya, Zinovia, and Viktor

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From the way her brow folds, Jamandi is NOT happy that Ilya is here.

She clears her throat. "Your father, the Regent, will doubtless be glad to have news of you. But I did not come to find a lost prince. You have all performed your task well, and the Swordlord Council has decided to authorize another Charter." She raises a hand. "Petyr, if you would."

Swordlord Petyr draws a scroll from his robe, reading it aloud. "Be it so known that the bearers of this charter, having delivered the northern reaches of the Greenbelt from the scourge of banditry, having provided detailed maps of the lay of the land, and having done no small amount of work in the exploration of said land and the culling of hostile monsters and indigenous hazards, are hereby granted the right to rule.

"The nature and laws of rule are theirs to define, and the wellbeing of this new nation is theirs to protect. In accordance for providing a stable nation to the south of central Rostland, let there be a generous stipend of funds, support, and advice provided to this fledgling nation as a token of Restov and Brevoy’s goodwill, such that future relations between kingdoms might be mutually beneficial."

"So witnessed under the watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and by the authority granted by Lord Noleski Surtova, current Regent of the Dragonscale Throne."

Jamandi and several of her soldiers have dismounted during the reading. "We will stay only for a few hours," she directs at Oleg. "Have our horses watered and some food prepared for my men." She hands him what seems to be a heavy purse. She turns back to you. "You had best decide on who's in charge."

"Quite so," Petyr adds from his horse. "Running a kingdom where everyone wants to be in charge and no one can get along seems to prove... difficult." He gives a light laugh.

[RocketMan]

"Well, that is why one goes somewhere to hide, isn't it?" Ilya remarks sardonically. "I mean, if I had hidden somewhere expected, I'd have been caught, wouldn't I?" He smiles. "And while I'm sure my lord father will be happy to hear that I am alive, the rest of the news may not be to his liking. So please, break it to him gently."

As the Swordlords mill about preparing for their return journey, Ilya turns to his companions. "So, one amongst us must rule? Isn't this the part where we viciously betray each other, backstabbing and poisoning our way to the throne?" He laughs. "Well, please spare me. I ran away from a throne, and have no intention of sitting on a different one, especially a different one that doesn't even exist yet..."

[Blisstake]

"Well, it's a good thing the Lord Regent couldn't be assed to come himself," says Tireas with a smile. "It would have made for an upsetting family reunion."

When asked to select a leader, Tireas shakes his head. "It has to be one of us? Aren't our only credentials that we killed a bunch of people? Then again, I suppose that's all Choral the Conquerer had going for him when he established the Dragonscale Throne."

The tiefling looks over his companions, trying to think which one would make the best choice. "Well, I opt out for obvious reasons. I suppose that makes the best choice... uh, Viktor if Ilya truly doesn't wish to rule."

[Winterfell]

"You are welcome here, Swordlords," Viktor says, though he glowers when Jamandi recognizes Ilya. "So long as you bear us no ill will," he adds, sounding like his is suspicious of this being true.

"I am prepared to shoulder the burden of rule, if that is our collective will," Viktor says, nodding stoicaly when Tireas finishes. "I know we will do a better job at governing these lands without the corrupting political influences that saturate the courts of Issia and Restov," he continues, shooting a look of profound dislike at the Swordlords standing nearby. "Together we stand a chance of bring real justice to the Stolen Lands, if it is Abadar's will."

[Blisstake]

Tireas grins silently as Viktor explains his ideals for the region. If it weren't for their squabbling, this expedition wouldn't even have happened. Then again, a naive leader could be a boon if I need a cover for my plans.

"Then all hail King Viktor and all that," Tireas announces facetiously. "Don't worry about any backstabbing to get that Throne, or anything like that. If I wanted the position you'd already be dead." His smile, once again, doesn't give any clues if he's joking or serious.

[Leviathan]

"Ha!" Zinovia lets out a single loud laugh, almost a cackle. "If you wish the infernal duty, I say: let it be yours." She seems almost mirthful at Viktor's foolishness. "Let it be Lord Markov then, and let him bring true justice and freedom from corruption. And while we're at it, let him turn night to day and day to night. Ha!" The wizardess appears immensely amused by what she apparently sees as Viktor's foolishness.

She softens slightly. "But forgive me. You will of course do your utmost to pursue the ends you have stated."

[FireberdGNOME]

Katerina says nothing and tries to maintain a serious face when Petyr smiles in recognition of her deeds, and the honor bestowed by Grandmaster Jamandi. "Is it for you that I seek honor, Father." The girl's eyes lighten to a clear, pale grey as they gleam with pride.

Katerina cringes when Viktor all but insults the Sword Lords, and to their face at that! Well, he has no lack of courage at least. When Tireas and Zinovia proclaim their mocking support of Viktor she begins to feel very small, with a sinnking feeling in her stomach. Before that can take hold she says, "Viktor, in the name of the Sword Lords, my sword will be with yours. If we are to tame this land we need to be united in purpose. There is too much work to let us fall to squabbles and despair." As she finishes she looks at Tireas and then Zinovia hoping to show them both that they are all on the same side. Oh, Ilya! Why couldn't you be our Prince? What is it you are running from? Katerina then unbelts her sword and scabbard, bows to Viktor, and lays her sword at his feet, "m'Lord"

[FireberdGNOME]

Later that night, Katerina seeks out Master Petyr. She is anxious and nervous. Of all the people that deserve to see me at my best, Master Petyr is at the top! I hope what he has found here shows that he has been a worthy teacher. She knocks firmly on his door. While she waits she smooths her dress and makes sure her sword is settled neatly on her hip.

"Come in, Katerina."

The young swordswoman opens the door and steps in, closing it behind her with a soft click.

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Katerina spends the evening, or whatever time they have, telling Master Petyr of her trials so far, the fangberry thing, the river lizard/dragons, and most especially the fight at the Stag Lords fort. She also addresses her confidence in Ilya and Viktor, and her worries about the afternoon's conversation with the party.

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I hope I did not overstep here. I just wanted to establish Kat spending time with her mentor without wasting everyone's time

[ApatheticAbacus]

The evening passes slowly, dusk creeping into night. The stars twinkle in the sky above Oleg's Post, now bustling with activity. And when the dawn comes, it is truly a new day...

KINGMAKER

Part II: Rivers Run Red

Oleg's Post. Sarenith, 4708

The yellow-brown plains of the Kamelands are alive in the warm air of the coming summer. The grasses grow long and tall, wild stalks of golden grain sprouting amidst the rocks, feeding the small herds of wild caribou, moose, and horses that wander the hills.

To the north, along the humble, rutted dirt road that you yourselves months ago traversed on your journey, a meandering trail of wagons and people stretches off into the distance. Many have come with little more than the clothes on their backs and the coin purse given to each by Restov so that they can make their new start in a new land. Young mothers, brown and blonde hair tied in practical buns or bundled in kerchiefs, carry swaddled infants in their arms. Frontiersmen have long yew bows unstrung or thrown over their shoulders. Others come from all walks of life: artisan apprentices looking to make careers, beggars with their possessions bundled on their backs, farmers riding hay-filled wagons in search of more land. Besides these, Restov has sent wagons loaded with trunks of gold, guarded by a dozen soldiers who join Kesten Garess' detachment as they reach the Post.

The settlers wind their way towards Oleg's Post, from there to head southwards to the site of the new city. Their faces are flushed with excitement, and already the words are on everyone's lips: "Stag's End." There the heroes of the Stolen Lands vanquished a brutal bandit king. There they made good on their promise to guard the south.

Stag's End. Erastus, 4708

In the heat of the summer sun, your people have arrived at their new home. The Stag Lord's fortress – Stag's End, now – sits atop a hill. To the south, Tuskwater Lake forms at natural boundary, while the land to the north is fertile and relatively flat, save for the omnipresent ridges of glaciated granite.

Settling is no easy task, but spirits are high, and the people eager to get to work. At first, they live in a sprawling village of hide tents outside the fort's palisade, and crowded together in the fort's lower level, their stores of food pooled in the cellar. As the month progresses, construction begins in earnest. The stonemasons that have accompanied the expedition draft some of the stronger men to quarry stone, while others make the journey across the plains to the Narlmarches, wagons in tow, to bring back much-needed lumber.

By mid-month, the sound of ringing hammers and calling workmen fills the air. Around the walls of Stag's End, a thicket of wooden beams and columns has grown, the skeletons of sturdy houses. The castle itself is also being repaired. Workmen have cleared the debris, patched the holes, and are making the place fit for proper habitation with simple, robust furniture. Despite the repairs, everything seems haphazard. A few literate young men and women have set up a makeshift bureaucracy in one of the keep's rooms, their desks cluttered with paper as they begin the process of recording who lives where, with whom, and with what means. Twenty or so guards from Restov are barracked in another room. The 'throne room' consists of a long table surrounded by a dozen chairs and a particularly large, high-backed one at the table's head reserved for Lord Markov.

As the month nears its end, roofs and walls coming up, thatching and wood covering the bare frames. It is still a very rough affair, though. The buildings are frontier dwellings, many simple one-room cabins fit for a small family that isn't picky. Around and between the houses, nobody has started work on roads, so trampled grass and dusty dirt indicate the thoroughfares along which enterprising vendors have erected rough stalls.

Sure enough, along with the hot summer sun, the winds of change are sweeping the Stolen Lands.

[Blisstake]

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I make some assumptions with this post. Let me know if anything is mistaken

Despite the fact that the Stag Lord's fort had been remodeled and repurposed, every walk through their base of operation brought back vivid memories.

That's where Dovan died... I hid the archer's body over there... and Grigori died where that maid is standing.

Tireas frowns, realizing that he was among a select few who knew about all the deaths that occured here. If the maid knew would she be superstitious and step around the spot? She ends up quickly moving along, but that is likely due to seeing the tiefling coming her way. He looks the same where it matters to most people: short horns, red skin, black tongue, eleven fingers. Tireas' companions would likely be the only ones to notice anything different, namely his longer hair, finely-weaved clothes, and less smiles on his face.

And that's where the Stag Lord entered.

The doors had remained the same, except they were now manned by two guards, ensuring that not just anyone could enter to see Viktor. The guards currently on duty know not to bother Tireas, however, and he walks through unimpeded.

As a spymaster in a fledgling kingdom, there really isn't a whole lot to do. Most of his time was spent ensuring that none of the incoming citizens were up to no good, but why would they be? There was nothing of value to be had in impeding a nation that was less than a blimp on a map. But after two months of buildling and populating Stag's End, Tireas had the desire to do more: see what their potential rivals were up to in Brevoy and the River Kingdoms so they could prepare in advance for anything that could be coming their way. But such things are usually best planned in advance with one's ruler.

"Hello, Viktor!" Tireas announces after the leader is finished with whatever meetings he has (if any). "I'm planning on taking a "diplomatic" visit to a nation of your choice. Any suggestions?"

[FireberdGNOME]

The young girl watches from behind a group of men standing in orderly rows. "Flex your knees, Ivan. Set comfortable, not like stone." She smiles slightly as her student changes his posture, correcting his mistake. "Now, step, turn, guard, step. Imagine your opponent before you. Precision first, speed will come." This session of practice is like many others she has held. The men here are all volunteers from the Restovic guard force. I don't think they thought to learn duelling here muses the maid as each of the warriors steps through his blocks and steps.

Her thoughts are interrupted by Kesten Geress' arrival. "Good sir," she says, and offers a short bow the man. "Your men are doing well, if we aren't careful, some of them may decide to take the art of the duel as more than just work." Her grin is open and honest, Could it be that this really is home now?

* * *

Katerina begins her walk home from the training grounds, her body feeling languid after a hard afternoon's work. She walks slowly, enjoying the scene around her. Between the few craftsmen racing to finish their task and the tradesmen closing up their stalls, there is a pall of dust on the burgeoning village. So much dust here, it covers everything and makes it all dirty. She suddenly makes a connection between the dust and this new home they are forging. Her stride picks up speed as she now hurries to get ready for dinner with Viktor and the others. I have to tell Viktor to fix this!

* * *
Sitting at the table, Katerina tries to be patient with the other's conversations. Her effort is in vain as she suddenly blurts, "Viktor we need roads, paving in the village." She stops for a breath and then continues. "Our people are covered in dirt, they shouldn't be. We need to make sure they never feel like they are just dirt. They deserve better and we can give that to them." She smiles, and looks at each of the companions in turn. Did that come out right?

[Winterfell]

Viktor rubs his temples with one hand, his dark blond hair falling around his face as he studies the map that lies on the dark oak table. The map we spent months making, he thinks to himself. He pushes it aside and stands. Viktor is still handsome, but he looks older now, as if the burden of rule has almost-imperceptibly aged him. We are doing Abadar's work here, and no matter the toll on myself, I will see it done.

He pulls on a cape before he leaves his chambers: his relatively simple tunic is practical, but not very lordly. Opening the door, he nods to the pair of guards, then makes a beeline for the steward.

"Another caravan of settlers is supposed to arrive today," he reminds the other man. "They will required food and beds when they arrive. See to that," he commands, not harshly exactly but making no pretence of familiarity and with all the paladin's usual bluntness.

"Tireas, Katerina," he says unsmilingly as the pair approach him. He listens intently to each in turn. We will need to send envoys to Restov and Issia both before long," he says resignedly. Gods, I hate politics, he thinks, knowing that both nations would likely be hostile. "Yes, you are right," he says to Katerina. We will have to ask Oleg what funds are available – the new arrivals need to be fed and housed first, but if any is left over I assure you I will not see it squandered on luxuries."

[RocketMan]

"Evgenia!" Ilya calls out, smiling, as he enters the house. It is a small timber affair, but is mercifully dark and cool in the summer heat. "I thought I'd stop by and see how your little one was faring," the young man says, crossing the room in a few steps and kneeling down by a small, fur-laden cot. "He looks stronger already," he says, smiling. "And you too, I am glad to see that you're recovered from the birth. If you're sure you don't need anything, I'll be on my way."

Not in an age of the earth would I have expected to be checking up on babies, the runaway prince thinks to himself as he leaves the house. Perhaps more surprising is that enjoys his new work, helping the new arrivals adjust, making sure the older ones have their needs accounted for. He walks back toward's the still-rundown keep, stopping for a moment to watch as Katerina trains the guards.

"Well," Ilya says as he convenes with the others. "Evgenia Zurel's lad is doing well, which is good, because Zinovia would be ever so grumpy if I tried to make her use her healing talents on anyone but herself," he says, giggling.

[FireberdGNOME]

With a grin that lights her eyes Katerina says, "We know lots of ways to make Zinovia grumpy, but do we know a way to make her not grumpy?" The young woman looks to Zinovia to see if her jest was taken as such, but even under Zinovia's baleful eyes Katerina does not stop grinning. I'll make you smile one day, Zinnie

"Viktor, would it help save some coin if we only had to pay for supplies for our first road? We could ask the people to donate some time to help lay the cobbles. We could pave at least the approach to the keep and call it 'Avenue of Dawn', or .The People's Path'." She waits for an answer, trying to stay still. Focusing like Master Petyr trained her she manages a fair resemblence to patience.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia has taken for herself a corner of the keep's cellar, where things are dark and cool, away from the summer heat, though she never seems to feel it regardless.

The wizardess has brought herself an old desk which has quickly grown cluttered with whatever tomes are available. In the absence of any real magic to speak of save a few trinket-sellers, she has busied herself in the history of the Stolen Lands. I suspect, she thinks to herself, sipping on steaming herbal tea, that if these lands were so easy to conquer that we have faced its deadliest challenges, they would already be tamed.

Closing the book she pours over, making the musty tome puff with dust, Zinovia stands, heading slowly up the stairs to join the others. She emerges just as Katerina makes her joke, the younger woman looking right at Zinovia, whose cold face shows nothing but its usual vaguely-annoyed look. "I would be less perturbed," she rasps, "if others took matters more seriously than Ilya."

"Viktor," she says sharply, turning to him, "we need to secure ourselves. I do not like having so many mewling infants here and so few soldiers. It makes us vulnerable. To what, I know not, but I do not wish to sit by until we are under attack."

[FireberdGNOME]

Katerina sees Zinovia's sour expression and for a moment rethinks her jibe. No, she helped make this possible, she needs to share in the joy, too. Katerina looks Zinovia squarely in the eye and smiles brightly, "Oh, and speak of the spirits! Hello Zinovia. Any new words in your tomes?"

[RocketMan]

"The mewling infants," Ilya says, sounding vaguely amused, "will be soldiers some day. They might not be of use to you today, dearest Zinovia, but they will be eventually. Think in the long term!" He claps his hands together suddenly. "Now, I'm sure there must be something that needs to be done urgently around here," he says.

[Blisstake]

"We should be safe. For now, anyway." Tireas walks up to the map in the center of the room and points at the marking for Stag's End.

"This is an excellent position. To the south are Mivon and other river kingdoms, but in between them and us is unexplored territory. They wouldn't risk an attack through whatever dangers remain in those woods. We also have the same situation to the west with Pitax. Iobaria to the east has no major forces that would be threat to us, and to the north, the Swordlords are doing an excellent job of making Issia think we're their allies."

"That just leaves threats in those unexplored locations, or among our own people. We'll probably want to launch another expedition after some time."

With a quick smile, Tireas adds "Assuming you all remember how to fight by then."

[ApatheticAbacus]

As the conversation proceeds, a guard pokes his head into the room, clearing his throat. "Captain Garess to see you," he announces.

Kesten comes striding into the room, his armour clanking. His Brevic red garments still remain, a reminder of the fact that even such basics as flags haven't yet been composed. He nods to Viktor and the rest. "As requested, I've assembled volunteers for a militia and outfitted them as best we can. I don't make much of them, but..." He scratches his head. "Well, they're assembled outside. You can see for yourselves if you'd like."

"I also saw Jhod on my way here. He said that he'd appreciate a word if you've got time. Don't know what about." The soldier shrugs his plate-clad shoulders.

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Sorry about the delay. Fun times on my way back from vacation. Anyhow, I've given a couple hooks if you want to take them, but you're free to propose something else entirely.

If you've got something you'd like me to set up for you, shoot me a PM to work things out.

[Winterfell]

"I will see what can be done," Viktor intones, nodding at Zinovia and Katerina as they make their suggestions. "A road would ease the lives of the people, but I confess that I am concerned for their safety if we fail to build up a strong army." The paladin shakes his head wearily as Kesten Garess enters.

"Yes, of course," Viktor says after listening. "Lead the way."

[Blisstake]

"Volunteers?" Tireas repeats, "Any of them willing to join the guards? I suppose a militia is better than nothing, but they should do training at least once a week, otherwise we might as well be throwing those "mewling babies" out to fight."

[FireberdGNOME]

"I can help with the training, even if most of the volunteers will never master one of these," Katerina pats the dueling sword on her hip. With a grin she follows Viktor outside. "Let's go see these new volunteers."

[RocketMan]

"Yes, let us go meet the valorous volunteers," Ilya says, his voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm. I'm sure they mean well, signing up for the militia, he thinks. But part of me agrees with Zinovia here; they're all probably going to get eaten by a giant bear or something if we don't whip them in to shape. It's just too bad that the ex-prince has no idea whatsoever on how to do that.

[ApatheticAbacus]

Outside the keep's gates, a gaggle of common-folk has gathered, mild curiosity plastered on their features as they watch the new militia come to attention. Or at least, it tries to come to attention. One man nearly trips over his spear. They're a ragtag bunch, wearing whatever armour was available, mostly leather jerkins and old round steel helmets. It's obvious at a glance that they'll need a lot of work before they can be called warriors.

"M'lords," one of them calls before being shushed by his fellows.

Kesten throws a sour look over to Viktor. "Here they are. Look, they could probably use some encouragement... Or training," he says with a nod to Katerina. "It's all the more urgent because I've heard a few reports of activity down by the lake. None of my guards got a good look, but a couple have seen what they thought might've been people skulking around near the water."

[Winterfell]

"Well met, soldiers," Viktor calls in greeting to the militia men, giving them a salute. "I commend you for your honor and valor; we have a great deal of hard work ahead of us."

"What sort of activity," Viktor asks Kesten sharply. "Is there a reason that people should not be at the lake?"

[FireberdGNOME]

"We could take a few volunteers to go and see what is going on. It would be good to see how well they keep thier heads when working." Her smile is calm, and she looks like she's ready to move out as soon as she is given permission.