Grimdux

I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck

 Touch O' Luck

II) It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series.

It will be a superior reading experience

to start this story from the beginning

Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience:)

Chapter specific maps of the realms 

Maps of the Realms

Character portraits

Lord Storm Nattas

The Last Council

Part I

-A learned man-

Storm Nattas stayed at a far edge of the docks at Aldenport. He was standing atop his carriage, the leg bothering him and his acute eyes set on the large Barque that had moored in the port. Two smaller Brigs flanking it. The crowned White Boar of Lesia flying from the top mast, signaling the King was aboard. Around the port a long row of Alden guards had cordoned the area and kept back the crowd that had started gathering as the news were spreading.

Forty white and gold armoured soldiers marched down the ship’s bridge, styled after the 2nd Legion Lesia had never gotten around to create. Ever the shrewd merchants, they’d discerned it was more prudent financially to share the burden of running one with their allied Kingdom of Regia. A young knight appeared next and waved at the crowd, who recognized his fancy armour. Sir William Davenport, the Charming Knight of Lesia had won all three Royal tournaments that year.

People would argue, Nattas thought wiping his face with a folded hankie, most of the good fighters were missing on campaign, or were otherwise occupied like being dead for instance.

He turned his eyes on the ships anchored next to the King’s and spotted easily the Green Stag’s banner of Cediorum and venerable silhouette of Lord Miles Lennox already standing on the docs. The old knight, general and King Davenport’s Shield still cutting an arresting figure. A woman was standing next to him, a mature Knight escorting her. She was talking with Lord Lennox and while more than twenty years apart in age –Lord Lennox was over sixty- there was some resemblance there. Nattas glanced at the Brig again and saw the smaller flag flapping in the wind under the bigger one. Another stag… no that’s a black Elk, he realized. Ah, the Baroness of Ballard is here as well.

Lord Nattas looked at the third ship finally, although he didn’t have to. He’d recognized the banner, despite the vessel itself being a military ship on loan from the King. The purple and silver vines of Flauegran and its representative Lord Enzo Riveras. The wine Barons had sent a man also.

King Davenport walked down on the docs next. The man being in his fifties now and Nattas thought he’d gained a bit of weight, but still had all the hairs on his head. Not a single white strand amidst all the black. He glanced at the crowd, laughed at a joke from his younger second son and ushered his own guards forward and towards the Royal Carriages.

“Where’s his wife? People say she has quite the room on her balcony,” Sudi asked interrupting Lord Nattas’ spying on the King of Lesia. Davenport had opted to make the journey to Riverdor shorter by taking a ship to Aldenport and then travel through Regia towards the walled Kaltha city and the Lesia dignitaries had followed the King’s example. Perhaps even catch up with King Alistair, as the two kings have known each other since Alistair had married Vacia his sister, when Nattas was still a young man. The friendship had cooled off after her death. Now with Jeremy married to the Scaldingport girl, Storm had no idea if that friendship would flourish again, or wither like an old vine and die.

“Queen Saskia would never travel so close to the winter,” he explained, with a deep troubled sigh at his idiocy. “Famously, while a port lass she hates the sea.”

“We’re in the winter season chief, so ye may be right,” Sudi agreed and Nattas glanced at the relatively free of clouds sky above them.

“Of course I am and no, we are not. Wait until crap starts falling down on our heads, then tell me again,” he replied and plopped down on the uncomfortable driver’s seat. Storm stared at the horses’ arses bemused for a moment, the one on the right dropping a brick sized shit on the cobblestone that made quite the splash and stank something fierce.

Abrakas also agrees I see.

“You want me to drive chief?” Sudi asked a contemplating moment later.

“Nah, I want to sit here over this pile of fresh horse manure and dream of the Queen of Lesia,” Storm snarled, frustration oozing out of him. “What the fuck do you think?”

“You’re stalling,” Maja had declared hours later, carving a small piece of ebony wood with a sharp pointing knife. What the assassin was making could have easily been anything between a thin smoking pipe and a hair pin. Even another weapon made out of wood, Storm decided having his third goblet of wine of the early day.

“I don’t have all the pieces of the puzzle,” Storm explained and Sirio who was writing on his scrolls, raised his eyes to look at him.

“What is Lady Maja referring to?” The scholar asked politely. Whether he’d made the connection about her true identity, or had bought Lord Nattas tale about her being his daughter, Storm didn’t know. Then again Sirio might believe she’s my daughter and a murderer. Trained to do nasty stuff for the greater good by her vile father, through no fault of her own. Storm would have rolled his eyes so hard the nerve endings might never have recovered, if he wasn’t forced to answer. Maja had taken the conversation to an annoying direction while he was contemplating about family and murders.

Such as folk habitually do.

“I asked him to consider you as a potential lover,” Maja had replied earnestly. Sirio started coughing all red in the face and his ‘daughter’ stooped near his chair, probably going for the author’s cock under the table to calm him down.

Uh.

“She didn’t,” Storm said, although the assassin had brought it up. If Sirio wanted to be part of his inner circle, he needed to learn to sift through mountains of lies, or perish in the attempt. “Trust me dear friend, Maja isn’t good for you. Literally, you’d be better served to pick a lover from amongst the fishing crews in Aldenport. A couple of them seemed quite the specimens.”

“Storm!” Maja gasped pretending to be shocked and Sirio blinked a couple of times trying to pick his brains from the floor and failing.

“Just giving him the unvarnished truth,” Storm replied earnestly in turn. “The man is in danger!”

“From what?”

“You dear. You’ll eat him alive.”

“Ah, nonsense,” Maja protested.

“The situation might change,” Storm told her, elucidating on their previous conversation.

“I’ll need time,” Maja replied, without missing a bit.

“For what?” This was Sirio finally getting out of his ‘corner of embarrassment’ metaphorically.

Storm stared at him. “What are the news from the two Kings meeting?” He asked steering the conversation away from the subject.

“It was brief,” Sirio replied. Lord Nattas had him sift through the reports coming from his ‘ears’ around the city and the palace. It was honest hard work, despite not everything coming in obtained through ‘legitimate’ means. Semantics. “But amicable,” Sirio added.

“Damn it all to hells,” Storm cursed. “A sea of fucking turds!”

“Ah, why… what does it mean?”

“Kings don’t like showing what they’re thinking, unless there’s a reason for it. Both being happy in the end, means neither of them was.”

“Why not?”

“The King’s full council will meet in the afternoon,” Storm replied. I guess we will find out. “Anything else?”

“A Cohort left with King Davenport,” Sirio replied.

“When was this?”

“While you have retired with Lady Maja,” the assassin pouted at that and reached for Storm’s goblet. She brought it to her mouth without commending and downed its contents greedily, with both men watching her quite enthralled.

“Hey,” Maja complained when she caught their stares. “I was very thirsty and this is summer wine. I like it.”

The sweetest wine, Storm thought approvingly, frowning the moment he caught Sirio out of the corner of his eye, nodding along in agreement with her words. Hmm, perhaps there is a play here. Something worth revisiting, or reevaluating. What is a title but words on a piece of paper? It’s the people behind that make them valuable down the line, or a burden that worth’s as much as a turd floating in water.

“Sir Barnard,” Storm said in greeting and the hale knight of the King’s Guard grimaced.

“Lord Nattas, you’re rather late.”

Ah.

There you go.

Straight to the arse-fucking.

Use a bit of lubrication first for crying out loud!

“I wasn’t informed they moved the meeting,” Storm said eyeing the ominous closed door. What the fuck is this? Are they going to have me stand outside looking at the walls?

“All important Lords were notified,” Sir Barnard explained and seeing Nattas murderous glare, he added to soften it up. “There are a lot of them in the city.”

Somehow this makes it even more humiliating you chunk of unrefined rock!

“Can I…?”

“Of course. Doors!” Sir Barnard barked to the guards.

“Gratitude, dear Sir Barnard. I bet you’d have sent that Charming Knight back to his mother crying, had you participated,” Storm said sweetly.

“Well, I don’t want to brag Lord Nattas,” Sir Barnard replied, scrunching his square jaw. “But I think you are in the right,” he admitted modestly.

“Let the kid enjoy it in blissful ignorance,” Storm added conspiratorially and patted his gauntlet.

“Quite right Lord Nattas,” Sir Barnard agreed with a smile and moved aside to allow him entry into King Alistair’s Council.

An important one, as it would mark the last time these prominent men of Regia will all be in the same room together.

Everyone decked out in their finest mix of armour and expensive redingote, showcasing their sigils and titles. Storm paused before the oblong table after he walked inside, as the King was talking and eyed the Lords present.

Lord Doris Alden from sun scorched Aegium. Regia’s treasurer and the Ruler of the Salt Coast. Sir Deimos Alden his dashing son, standing behind him. The Lord Commander of the Lorian Legion no less.

Their motto depicted in their stance and the Blacktiger’s head engraved in red.

By the sword- We were, we are, we shall be.

The bountiful Lord Admiral Brakis from Illirium, the Trident prominent on his bursting at the seams doublet. Ruler of Rosebush and Bronze Plateau. Regia’s Lord of Sea.

Salted we rise, Storm rehashed the House Brakis motto, returning the navy man’s welcoming stare. He had a good relationship with him.

The square-shaped Lord Paulus Sula from Demames, clad in a well-polished cuirass that had the top of a mountain engraved on it. Ruler of Gods Peak and its silver mines.

Under its shade –we stand.

The austere man cast him a spiteful stare, or perhaps he’s eaten something and it had messed up his bowels, Storm mused, a nervous tick appearing on his own face.

Old Lord Hunter Holt, the Fair Lady carved on his plate, much as on Sir Rupert’s who was standing behind his father. Lord of Asturia and the King’s Shield. Protector of Valeria and the Hammer Mounts, Ruler of Islandport and Whitetiger Castle. Perhaps the most powerful family outside of the Aldens in Regia.

Fair Lady never forgets, Storm thought, the old Lord not even bothering to look at him.

Lord Barus Ursus, Lord of Novesium was absent. The Lord of the palm trees city, the two rivers and keeper of the Golden Forest true to his motto.

Ever different.

Now him, Nattas didn’t like at all, since Ursus had refused to sell him the property he’d eyed for quite some time now. It was a matter of funds or more of them, Storm wasn’t willing to part at the moment.

Lord Curtius Vendor, the Baron of Two Rivers Castle and High Baron Montague Valens of Cartaport were missing as well, perhaps the journey too great, what with them having to lord over Cartagen whilst everybody else was away for so long. The King that had finished talking hadn’t returned to his capital since Sir Ralph had been killed two summers back, as if a premonition had cautioned him to remain near the borders and the old capital.

“Lord Nattas, find a seat,” King Alistair ordered him brusquely. Storm bowed deeply on instinct. He felt his back cracking, something there dislodging, but hopefully nothing that would paralyze him permanently and rushed to get a seat next to Lord Brakis. “Have you anything urgent to report?”

Canutia has finally send an update, Storm thought, but since that was the King’s missive he’d read sneakily, he opted to shake his head and pretend ignorance in front of the Lords present.

“Nothing of note, my King.”

“Well, something of note did happen earlier,” Alistair grunted, all that gossip about him being in a fine mood committing a shameful suicide. “Lesia has decided to form its own Legion.”

Several murmurs came out of the Lords, with Brakis snapping his head up shocked. “Apparently the Bank of Trust will foot half the bill and they’ve already picked a spot for its permanent camp,” Alistair added.

The King got up and pointed at a spot on the map hanging from the west wall of the old throne room. Everyone turned to look at it, not everyone having the eyes to discern the cartographer’s scribblings.

“The Alesian Fort,” the King helped his Lords.

“Why, that’s a poor position,” Lord Brakis commented.

“Why?” The King asked.

“No port at the near, my King.”

“The Legion can walk quite afar in a day,” Lord Sula argued dryly, himself coming from a military family. Lord Holt agreed, the Legion’s city Anorum being a neighbor to Asturia.

“Their camp is close to Cartagen,” Alistair snarled what they should have picked up immediately. “It’s a goddarn warning!”

“A warning King Alistair?” Lord Hold probed calmly.

“Yes. It’s clear as day,” Alistair replied and walked back to his seat. “He also ordered the Second Cohort to follow him to Riverdor,” the King added when he’d gathered himself.

“Lord Deimos didn’t object?” Storm blurted out before he could stop himself and everyone turned to look at him. Fuck off noble cunts!

None less pleased than Lord Doris himself.

“I had no reason to object,” Alistair said nonchalantly, not bothered with his question. “Sir Deimos agreed. We are all allies here and the men are paid by Lesia.”

Of course.

“Lord Holt, I ordered the Fourth to prepare for departure,” the King informed the rest of the Lords whilst addressing his Shield, as Lord Holt was aware apparently.

“They’ve being renamed the Third,” Lord Hold elucidated after a sign by the King. “Another training Cohort to launch in its place.”

“Are the men available?” Lord Sula asked. “It takes time to bring them up to speed.”

“You have men to spare Sula?” The King asked.

“I have my King,” Lord Sula replied readily.

“We shall talk of this at another time,” King Alistair told him.

“As you wish, my King.”

“Antoon has insulted us with this invite,” King Alistair said, after he chased the scribes away. Not personally, Sir Barnard’s guards had taken the task upon themselves. A King only needs to ask. “First he starts a war with the Khan and loses Raoz. He lies about the real reason afore that. His actions costing me a son,” he paused to collect himself. Storm moved on his chair, trying to keep from drawing attention on himself. “His words and innuendos about to cost me another.”

“Has anything happened to Sir Lucius?” His cousin asked.

“There are rumors of an excursion over Lud River,” Alistair replied. “Ludriver Castle has fallen to the Jarl.”

Storm drowned himself in his own spit, eyes ogling and red in the face, Lord Brakis offering him a glass of wine.

“That’s… impossible,” Lord Sula said, sounding unconvinced. “Crossed the river?”

“That’s what the Jarl’s ancestors thought and then Kaltha put a bridge over its branches and gave them a thrashing,” Alistair retorted.

“The Legion had raised those bridges, King Alistair,” Lord Sula argued. “Learned engineers put the plans in motion, used stone and concrete. Not simple builders. That’s… the Northmen can’t do that. I mean the general idea perhaps or follow instructions, but putting a design on paper? Nothing they’ll make will ever work. They can’t built a proper ship for Uher’s sake!”

The King sighed and stared at Storm with a scowl.

A learned man, Storm thought.

Fuck.

“And in the middle of winter,” Lord Doris commented. “They would need to use pre-built parts, then connect everything and I need an actual scholar here to take the measurements, a simple pontoon bridge would have never been enough—”

“Lord Nattas?” The King hissed and Storm paled, since him knowing about it beforehand was sensitive to admit. Not that he'd guessed at the implications until now. Maja and Sirio had derailed his thoughts with their shenanigans.

Which was a half-truth at the most, but Storm needed to blame someone here.

Eh.

“There’s no learned man standing above Sir Lucius my King, neither here, nor in the North,” he croaked, everyone standing back onto their seats but the King of Regia. “No one as well read, or as talented in drawing both in civic and military architecture.”

“Sir Lucius up and build a bridge for the Jarl?” Lord Sula snapped glaring at him. “Have you taken leave of your senses Lord Nattas?”

“The Jarl is over the river,” the King repeated. “He didn’t went around it! Why, that would have brought him in Lesia through bloody Sovya! He didn’t cross the Montfoot, or the Midriver bridges either. The North has taken Ludriver Castle and Canutia says the Nords believe this time he might succeed, where everyone else has failed.”

“Ha-ha, Jarl David will never win. I’ll give them a good raid that’s it,” Lord Doris scoffed. “When the weather opens up Lord Vanzon and Lord Crull will send him back again. They thrashed him proper at the Battle of the Bridges.”

“Cousin,” the King addressed him patiently. “I said he might succeed. I didn’t mean the Jarl and Canutia writes the Northmen aren’t talking about the Jarl either.”

Lord Holt frowned as if he’d seen his death and stared at Storm the only other man there present, when a then eleven year old Lucius had advised the King to hold with half the Legion Sovya’s forces at Yepehir, sneak the other half around to attack the Duchy’s capital.

Sovya wants you to remain locked here, Lucius had said to his stunned audience, the then Lord Commander of the Legion Miles Lennox included. Don’t give them what they want father. Fight them where they don’t expect you.

Lucius has attacked Kaltha, Storm thought with a shiver, everyone stunned realizing what the King was implying. Good grief, why would you do this?

Does Antoon know?

What about Lesia?

Abrakas you piece of perverted shit, what is this crap? Why, just bend me over the table and shove a sword up my crack. Fucking be done with it.

Grimdux I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck Touch O' Luck II It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series. It will be a superior reading experience to start this story from the beginning Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience: Chapter specific maps of the realms Maps of the Realms Character portraits Lord Storm Nattas The Last Council Part I -A learned man- Storm Nattas stayed at a far edge of the docks at Aldenport. He was standing atop his carriage, the leg bothering him and his acute eyes set on the large Barque that had moored in the port. Two smaller Brigs flanking it. The crowned White Boar of Lesia flying from the top mast, signaling the King was aboard. Around the port a long row of Alden guards had cordoned the area and kept back the crowd that had started gathering as the news were spreading. Forty white and gold armoured soldiers marched down the ship's bridge, styled after the 2nd Legion Lesia had never gotten around to create. Ever the shrewd merchants, they'd discerned it was more prudent financially to share the burden of running one with their allied Kingdom of Regia. A young knight appeared next and waved at the crowd, who recognized his fancy armour. Sir William Davenport, the Charming Knight of Lesia had won all three Royal tournaments that year. People would argue, Nattas thought wiping his face with a folded hankie, most of the good fighters were missing on campaign, or were otherwise occupied like being dead for instance. He turned his eyes on the ships anchored next to the King's and spotted easily the Green Stag's banner of Cediorum and venerable silhouette of Lord Miles Lennox already standing on the docs. The old knight, general and King Davenport's Shield still cutting an arresting figure. A woman was standing next to him, a mature Knight escorting her. She was talking with Lord Lennox and while more than twenty years apart in age Lord Lennox was over sixty- there was some resemblance there. Nattas glanced at the Brig again and saw the smaller flag flapping in the wind under the bigger one. Another stag no that's a black Elk, he realized. Ah, the Baroness of Ballard is here as well. Lord Nattas looked at the third ship finally, although he didn't have to. He'd recognized the banner, despite the vessel itself being a military ship on loan from the King. The purple and silver vines of Flauegran and its representative Lord Enzo Riveras. The wine Barons had sent a man also. King Davenport walked down on the docs next. The man being in his fifties now and Nattas thought he'd gained a bit of weight, but still had all the hairs on his head. Not a single white strand amidst all the black. He glanced at the crowd, laughed at a joke from his younger second son and ushered his own guards forward and towards the Royal Carriages. Where's his wife? People say she has quite the room on her balcony, Sudi asked interrupting Lord Nattas' spying on the King of Lesia. Davenport had opted to make the journey to Riverdor shorter by taking a ship to Aldenport and then travel through Regia towards the walled Kaltha city and the Lesia dignitaries had followed the King's example. Perhaps even catch up with King Alistair, as the two kings have known each other since Alistair had married Vacia his sister, when Nattas was still a young man. The friendship had cooled off after her death. Now with Jeremy married to the Scaldingport girl, Storm had no idea if that friendship would flourish again, or wither like an old vine and die. Queen Saskia would never travel so close to the winter, he explained, with a deep troubled sigh at his idiocy. Famously, while a port lass she hates the sea. We're in the winter season chief, so ye may be right, Sudi agreed and Nattas glanced at the relatively free of clouds sky above them. Of course I am and no, we are not. Wait until crap starts falling down on our heads, then tell me again, he replied and plopped down on the uncomfortable driver's seat. Storm stared at the horses' arses bemused for a moment, the one on the right dropping a brick sized shit on the cobblestone that made quite the splash and stank something fierce. Abrakas also agrees I see. You want me to drive chief? Sudi asked a contemplating moment later. Nah, I want to sit here over this pile of fresh horse manure and dream of the Queen of Lesia, Storm snarled, frustration oozing out of him. What the fuck do you think? You're stalling, Maja had declared hours later, carving a small piece of ebony wood with a sharp pointing knife. What the assassin was making could have easily been anything between a thin smoking pipe and a hair pin. Even another weapon made out of wood, Storm decided having his third goblet of wine of the early day. I don't have all the pieces of the puzzle, Storm explained and Sirio who was writing on his scrolls, raised his eyes to look at him. What is Lady Maja referring to? The scholar asked politely. Whether he'd made the connection about her true identity, or had bought Lord Nattas tale about her being his daughter, Storm didn't know. Then again Sirio might believe she's my daughter and a murderer. Trained to do nasty stuff for the greater good by her vile father, through no fault of her own. Storm would have rolled his eyes so hard the nerve endings might never have recovered, if he wasn't forced to answer. Maja had taken the conversation to an annoying direction while he was contemplating about family and murders. Such as folk habitually do. I asked him to consider you as a potential lover, Maja had replied earnestly. Sirio started coughing all red in the face and his daughter' stooped near his chair, probably going for the author's cock under the table to calm him down. Uh. She didn't, Storm said, although the assassin had brought it up. If Sirio wanted to be part of his inner circle, he needed to learn to sift through mountains of lies, or perish in the attempt. Trust me dear friend, Maja isn't good for you. Literally, you'd be better served to pick a lover from amongst the fishing crews in Aldenport. A couple of them seemed quite the specimens. Storm! Maja gasped pretending to be shocked and Sirio blinked a couple of times trying to pick his brains from the floor and failing. Just giving him the unvarnished truth, Storm replied earnestly in turn. The man is in danger! From what? You dear. You'll eat him alive. Ah, nonsense, Maja protested. The situation might change, Storm told her, elucidating on their previous conversation. I'll need time, Maja replied, without missing a bit. For what? This was Sirio finally getting out of his corner of embarrassment' metaphorically. Storm stared at him. What are the news from the two Kings meeting? He asked steering the conversation away from the subject. It was brief, Sirio replied. Lord Nattas had him sift through the reports coming from his ears' around the city and the palace. It was honest hard work, despite not everything coming in obtained through legitimate' means. Semantics. But amicable, Sirio added. Damn it all to hells, Storm cursed. A sea of fucking turds! Ah, why what does it mean? Kings don't like showing what they're thinking, unless there's a reason for it. Both being happy in the end, means neither of them was. Why not? The King's full council will meet in the afternoon, Storm replied. I guess we will find out. Anything else? A Cohort left with King Davenport, Sirio replied. When was this? While you have retired with Lady Maja, the assassin pouted at that and reached for Storm's goblet. She brought it to her mouth without commending and downed its contents greedily, with both men watching her quite enthralled. Hey, Maja complained when she caught their stares. I was very thirsty and this is summer wine. I like it. The sweetest wine, Storm thought approvingly, frowning the moment he caught Sirio out of the corner of his eye, nodding along in agreement with her words. Hmm, perhaps there is a play here. Something worth revisiting, or reevaluating. What is a title but words on a piece of paper? It's the people behind that make them valuable down the line, or a burden that worth's as much as a turd floating in water. Sir Barnard, Storm said in greeting and the hale knight of the King's Guard grimaced. Lord Nattas, you're rather late. Ah. There you go. Straight to the arse-fucking. Use a bit of lubrication first for crying out loud! I wasn't informed they moved the meeting, Storm said eyeing the ominous closed door. What the fuck is this? Are they going to have me stand outside looking at the walls? All important Lords were notified, Sir Barnard explained and seeing Nattas murderous glare, he added to soften it up. There are a lot of them in the city. Somehow this makes it even more humiliating you chunk of unrefined rock! Can I? Of course. Doors! Sir Barnard barked to the guards. Gratitude, dear Sir Barnard. I bet you'd have sent that Charming Knight back to his mother crying, had you participated, Storm said sweetly. Well, I don't want to brag Lord Nattas, Sir Barnard replied, scrunching his square jaw. But I think you are in the right, he admitted modestly. Let the kid enjoy it in blissful ignorance, Storm added conspiratorially and patted his gauntlet. Quite right Lord Nattas, Sir Barnard agreed with a smile and moved aside to allow him entry into King Alistair's Council. An important one, as it would mark the last time these prominent men of Regia will all be in the same room together. Everyone decked out in their finest mix of armour and expensive redingote, showcasing their sigils and titles. Storm paused before the oblong table after he walked inside, as the King was talking and eyed the Lords present. Lord Doris Alden from sun scorched Aegium. Regia's treasurer and the Ruler of the Salt Coast. Sir Deimos Alden his dashing son, standing behind him. The Lord Commander of the Lorian Legion no less. Their motto depicted in their stance and the Blacktiger's head engraved in red. By the sword- We were, we are, we shall be. The bountiful Lord Admiral Brakis from Illirium, the Trident prominent on his bursting at the seams doublet. Ruler of Rosebush and Bronze Plateau. Regia's Lord of Sea. Salted we rise, Storm rehashed the House Brakis motto, returning the navy man's welcoming stare. He had a good relationship with him. The square-shaped Lord Paulus Sula from Demames, clad in a well-polished cuirass that had the top of a mountain engraved on it. Ruler of Gods Peak and its silver mines. Under its shade we stand. The austere man cast him a spiteful stare, or perhaps he's eaten something and it had messed up his bowels, Storm mused, a nervous tick appearing on his own face. Old Lord Hunter Holt, the Fair Lady carved on his plate, much as on Sir Rupert's who was standing behind his father. Lord of Asturia and the King's Shield. Protector of Valeria and the Hammer Mounts, Ruler of Islandport and Whitetiger Castle. Perhaps the most powerful family outside of the Aldens in Regia. Fair Lady never forgets, Storm thought, the old Lord not even bothering to look at him. Lord Barus Ursus, Lord of Novesium was absent. The Lord of the palm trees city, the two rivers and keeper of the Golden Forest true to his motto. Ever different. Now him, Nattas didn't like at all, since Ursus had refused to sell him the property he'd eyed for quite some time now. It was a matter of funds or more of them, Storm wasn't willing to part at the moment. Lord Curtius Vendor, the Baron of Two Rivers Castle and High Baron Montague Valens of Cartaport were missing as well, perhaps the journey too great, what with them having to lord over Cartagen whilst everybody else was away for so long. The King that had finished talking hadn't returned to his capital since Sir Ralph had been killed two summers back, as if a premonition had cautioned him to remain near the borders and the old capital. Lord Nattas, find a seat, King Alistair ordered him brusquely. Storm bowed deeply on instinct. He felt his back cracking, something there dislodging, but hopefully nothing that would paralyze him permanently and rushed to get a seat next to Lord Brakis. Have you anything urgent to report? Canutia has finally send an update, Storm thought, but since that was the King's missive he'd read sneakily, he opted to shake his head and pretend ignorance in front of the Lords present. Nothing of note, my King. Well, something of note did happen earlier, Alistair grunted, all that gossip about him being in a fine mood committing a shameful suicide. Lesia has decided to form its own Legion. Several murmurs came out of the Lords, with Brakis snapping his head up shocked. Apparently the Bank of Trust will foot half the bill and they've already picked a spot for its permanent camp, Alistair added. The King got up and pointed at a spot on the map hanging from the west wall of the old throne room. Everyone turned to look at it, not everyone having the eyes to discern the cartographer's scribblings. The Alesian Fort, the King helped his Lords. Why, that's a poor position, Lord Brakis commented. Why? The King asked. No port at the near, my King. The Legion can walk quite afar in a day, Lord Sula argued dryly, himself coming from a military family. Lord Holt agreed, the Legion's city Anorum being a neighbor to Asturia. Their camp is close to Cartagen, Alistair snarled what they should have picked up immediately. It's a goddarn warning! A warning King Alistair? Lord Hold probed calmly. Yes. It's clear as day, Alistair replied and walked back to his seat. He also ordered the Second Cohort to follow him to Riverdor, the King added when he'd gathered himself. Lord Deimos didn't object? Storm blurted out before he could stop himself and everyone turned to look at him. Fuck off noble cunts! None less pleased than Lord Doris himself. I had no reason to object, Alistair said nonchalantly, not bothered with his question. Sir Deimos agreed. We are all allies here and the men are paid by Lesia. Of course. Lord Holt, I ordered the Fourth to prepare for departure, the King informed the rest of the Lords whilst addressing his Shield, as Lord Holt was aware apparently. They've being renamed the Third, Lord Hold elucidated after a sign by the King. Another training Cohort to launch in its place. Are the men available? Lord Sula asked. It takes time to bring them up to speed. You have men to spare Sula? The King asked. I have my King, Lord Sula replied readily. We shall talk of this at another time, King Alistair told him. As you wish, my King. Antoon has insulted us with this invite, King Alistair said, after he chased the scribes away. Not personally, Sir Barnard's guards had taken the task upon themselves. A King only needs to ask. First he starts a war with the Khan and loses Raoz. He lies about the real reason afore that. His actions costing me a son, he paused to collect himself. Storm moved on his chair, trying to keep from drawing attention on himself. His words and innuendos about to cost me another. Has anything happened to Sir Lucius? His cousin asked. There are rumors of an excursion over Lud River, Alistair replied. Ludriver Castle has fallen to the Jarl. Storm drowned himself in his own spit, eyes ogling and red in the face, Lord Brakis offering him a glass of wine. That's impossible, Lord Sula said, sounding unconvinced. Crossed the river? That's what the Jarl's ancestors thought and then Kaltha put a bridge over its branches and gave them a thrashing, Alistair retorted. The Legion had raised those bridges, King Alistair, Lord Sula argued. Learned engineers put the plans in motion, used stone and concrete. Not simple builders. That's the Northmen can't do that. I mean the general idea perhaps or follow instructions, but putting a design on paper? Nothing they'll make will ever work. They can't built a proper ship for Uher's sake! The King sighed and stared at Storm with a scowl. A learned man, Storm thought. Fuck. And in the middle of winter, Lord Doris commented. They would need to use pre-built parts, then connect everything and I need an actual scholar here to take the measurements, a simple pontoon bridge would have never been enough Lord Nattas? The King hissed and Storm paled, since him knowing about it beforehand was sensitive to admit. Not that he'd guessed at the implications until now. Maja and Sirio had derailed his thoughts with their shenanigans. Which was a half-truth at the most, but Storm needed to blame someone here. Eh. There's no learned man standing above Sir Lucius my King, neither here, nor in the North, he croaked, everyone standing back onto their seats but the King of Regia. No one as well read, or as talented in drawing both in civic and military architecture. Sir Lucius up and build a bridge for the Jarl? Lord Sula snapped glaring at him. Have you taken leave of your senses Lord Nattas? The Jarl is over the river, the King repeated. He didn't went around it! Why, that would have brought him in Lesia through bloody Sovya! He didn't cross the Montfoot, or the Midriver bridges either. The North has taken Ludriver Castle and Canutia says the Nords believe this time he might succeed, where everyone else has failed. Ha-ha, Jarl David will never win. I'll give them a good raid that's it, Lord Doris scoffed. When the weather opens up Lord Vanzon and Lord Crull will send him back again. They thrashed him proper at the Battle of the Bridges. Cousin, the King addressed him patiently. I said he might succeed. I didn't mean the Jarl and Canutia writes the Northmen aren't talking about the Jarl either. Lord Holt frowned as if he'd seen his death and stared at Storm the only other man there present, when a then eleven year old Lucius had advised the King to hold with half the Legion Sovya's forces at Yepehir, sneak the other half around to attack the Duchy's capital. Sovya wants you to remain locked here, Lucius had said to his stunned audience, the then Lord Commander of the Legion Miles Lennox included. Don't give them what they want father. Fight them where they don't expect you. Lucius has attacked Kaltha, Storm thought with a shiver, everyone stunned realizing what the King was implying. Good grief, why would you do this? Does Antoon know? What about Lesia? Abrakas you piece of perverted shit, what is this crap? Why, just bend me over the table and shove a sword up my crack. Fucking be done with it.