mysticrealms
Jul 1, 2017

Evermoore - June 2017 - Epilogues

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Sven stood at the head of his army with a fiery passion in his eyes that he could not wait to spread to the field. He could taste the battle that was about to ensure. For months the Tradesmen had disrespected him and his people. For months they called for his head and taunted him, going as far as carving his name on their weapons. He made no secret of his plans to attack The Protectorate on this night. He even let his men string up the bodies of those they killed at the Eastern Trade Post to rile up the citizens of Evermoore. He wanted them to feel the rage he felt. So where were they? His raiders waited for his order to begin the attack, as he began to gather his trusted generals a song entered his head. He had never heard it before and he could not get it out. As he listened to it he understood, this was a message from the Tradesmen. Calling him out, trying to get him to come to them. It was then that Wengryn arrived on field, not as a shield maiden, but as his pregnant wife.

 

“Husband, a scout arrived, the Tradesmen have decided to attack Kuroda instead. We only left some of our men at Kirimoo. What should we do?”

 

He growled at the news, his thirst for battle had overtaken him, and threw his sword on the ground. “We fight on this night! We do not bow to Evermoore, we do not change our plans for people who think they are better than us. They tried to outsmart us, but that will not work. Kuroda will have to prove his strength just like every Asgarn man and woman here had. If he is a worthy ally he will survive and if not…..” Sven turned grabbed a torch from a nearby raider. “If not, then there is more for us.” His men cheered. For Odin! For Thor! For Valhalla!"

 

A large cage like contraption was brought forward, in it were hundreds of butterflies. As Sven walked to it he spoke. “Let’s begin” He lit the cage on fire, the wings of the poor creatures set ablaze, the cage opened and they flew out, out and forward, forward to the Eastern Grove of The Protectorate. His men took it as a sign and charged forward. He turned to join them when Wengryn grabbed his arm. “Promise me you will come back and when you do that this is it. I want to go home, I want to raise our child in Asgarn where we belong.” He kissed her and began running to catch up to the others calling back as he did so. “Odin as my witness, I will give that child a name to be proud of and everything I never had!”

 

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After the attack was underway, a small army of creatures lead by and elven Tradesman were spotted by the edge of the field. He brought allies to fight back the attack. It appeared that the Tradesmen figured out a way to send help after all. Well into the night the reinforcements sent to stop Sven managed to halt his progression into the other groves. Sven was ready to fight all night, to his last breath, but, as if a Valkyrie was cutting through his rage and bloodlust, he was reminded of his promise to wife.

He stopped and realized at this moment, if they continued to push, they may defeat the ones who came to aid The Protectorate but at a great cost. Chances were high that they would lose to many men to make it back to Asgarn along with their spoils. He grabbed the horn at his waist and bellowed into it. His men knew what it meant and began the retreat back to the Eastern Trade Post. By early morning they had completely vacated The Protectorate, many lives were lost but many more could have been.

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Wengryn knew they could not stay at the Outpost for more than one day, the Tradesmen would come for them. She helped tend to the wounded and poured drinks for the those who survived. Where would they go? To her knowledge the waterways were still blocked because of Gunther. Some how, some way, they were going to make it back to Asgarn. She just knew it.

She fell asleep that night in her husband's arms dreaming of their home town and the family they would have there.

mysticrealms
Jul 1, 2017

STAG INDUSTRIES FACTORY GROUNDS, within 50 miles of Evermoore

 

Summary: The inspection of the Stag Industries factory within the Rainbow Valley by Raven Del Mer, Helix Nogami, and Dahlia Black.

 

The birds were chirping this morning as the sun rose high in the sky, and the heat continued to uncomfortably increase. Victoria Stag anticipated it to be another hot day. Spending long periods of time in the sun with the typical Coventry garb was difficult, especially with the oppressive humidity over the last few days. Victoria was glad she rarely had a need to travel outside of her cloudy and overcast country during the summer months. It puzzled her that some of her countrymen chose to do this on a monthly basis.

 

After waiting for some time, Raven Del Mer, Helix Nogami, and Dahlia Black, the approved Evermoore inspectors of her factory, arrived by the mid-morning. They were lead by Kaylas Pirik, the Head of Operations for the Rainbow Valley Branch. Kaylas eyed his boss warily, but she sent him away without acknowledgement.

 

Victoria slipped her pocket watch out of her jacket and checked the time. “Ms Del Mer, Ms Black, Mr Nogami. You are later than expected.” Victoria said and closed the watch with a quiet snap. “I have prepared a simple tour of the initial factory grounds.”

 

The Evermoore Guild Council were so openly distrustful of her. It was obvious to anyone that listened to them. The guild council had passed a recent law specific to Stag Industries that stated, "Stag Industries business practices are unethical and damaging to the environment. On these grounds, we forbid their business practices in the Rainbow Valley." There was an option to appeal if there was proof the factory was fixed and no longer damaging to the environment.

 

It was clear that the inspectors would be carefully reviewing everything they thought they could get away with. But this was a necessary inspection, according to the law, if Stag Industries wanted to begin weapons production any time soon in the area.

 

“I'm going to look around and make sure nothing is falling apart.” Helix said.

 

“Of course. You may inspect our buildings, waste disposal, and pipes. I will provide you samples of the construction materials, if it is required.” Victoria signaled one of her workers to take Helix where he wanted to go and to ensure that he received any samples he requested.

 

“I would like to review your paperwork and wages - the business end,” Dahlia spoke up.

 

At that, Victoria turned to face Dahlia and Raven, her expression was darker. “No, Ms. Black. That will not be happening.”

 

“I want to make sure everything is good and proper when we report back to the town. I’m just trying to be thorough - “

 

“This is not the intent of the law passed by the Evermoore Council. Their concerns are about potential environmental damage and if this repaired factory will create more damage to the land, correct, Ms Del Mer?”

 

The druid straightened as she was addressed. “Um, yes, that is true. In the past your factory did cause some environmental damages and we’re concerned with the recent issues of Red Earth Tribe and their lands.”

 

Victoria returned her attention to Dahlia. The polite facade Victoria normally portrayed was completely absent. Without it, her demeanor was the cold professional as she lifted her chin and gazed down her nose at the alchemist.

 

“I have not forgotten that you wish to open your own factory. You had asked my advice on factory management and business tips at your little.. Tea party. This is a poor attempt to snatch company secrets. Do not try my patience.”

 

Dahlia smirked, impressed with the response she received. It looked as if she was taking mental notes on how a woman of Victoria's stature conducted business.

 

Victoria looked ready to close the discussion so Raven took the chance to say something. “The most recent ruling did cite moral concerns, so it would be prudent to discuss the treatment of employees."

 

“I see... It is peculiar that this was brought up as I have always been blatantly upfront on how my employees are treated in this area.” Victoria replied. “All sign contracts for a term period. All are paid per the terms within their contract, and all receive one break during their shift with one meal supplied on behalf of Stag Industries. Find me one corporation who provides more, and I will call you a fool to believe them.”

 

Victoria lead the inspection team through the rest of the tour which took all morning and well into the afternoon hours. Helix rejoined them about halfway through with his bag of construction material samples.

 

Samples of soil at varying depths were taken at different locations of the grounds and stored away in vials. When it was requested it, Victoria lead them around to the outside parameter of the grounds to show the nearby forest area and the ponds near the grounds to see the effects the buildings had on wildlife.

 

Raven and Helix trailed further back in the tour for a few minutes to speak privately. As it looked like the tour was coming to a close, Raven looked up to address Victoria once again.

 

“We’re concerned about where your materials would be coming from and how they are gathered. Do you have your own people gather the materials, or do you buy from local miners?"

 

“I will not disclose every aspect of my business when it has little to do with this inspection. Dewdney Corporation has not faced the level of criticism that Stag Industries has received. I will not stand idle as you single out one corporation over another. The business logistics only becomes your concern if it breaks your laws.” Before the tradesmen had a chance to respond, she continued, “Show me the law I have broken and I will speak to your magistrate. I believe your inspection is over.”

 

After several hours with the tradesmen on her property, Victoria felt it was best to end this tour before she lost her temper. The thorough inspection should satisfy the needs of the local laws. But she knew that the results of the inspection wouldn’t be shared with her until after everything was tested.

 

It didn’t take long to lead the tradesmen back to the entrance gates. Once the tradesmen had left, Kaylas Pirik walked over to Victoria. “Shall we prepare for your departure, Ms Stag?”

 

“No. I am certain that if I want my factory up and running, I will need to pressure for the appeal in person at the next Market Day… join me in my office for tea, Kaylas. We have much to discuss.”

New Posts
  • Jarod T.
    Feb 21, 2018

    PHILOSOPHER PO QUAY, EVERMOORE SUMMARY: Po sends a group of angry Shorians home and reaches out to the guildsmen of Evermoore to patrol the roads around the Ring Fort to try and deter the Stick-Killer from striking again. DRAMATIZATION: The mob of angry Shorians surged forward. Their leader was a big man, dressed in a fur-rimmed conical hat, a fur vest, and deer hide breeches held up by a belt of flat metal disks. He was from the steppes of Shoria and carried a large heavy curved sword with jingling rings set into the back edge. The others in the mob were Shorians from the northern coast wearing cloth jackets held closed with little knotted ties and Shorians from the southern coast wearing their jackets held closed by sashes around the waist. All were armed with make-shift weapons, mostly farming implements. Po Quay stood in their path and raised both hands. For a long moment he thought the mob of angry Shorians would try and push past him, perhaps even trample him in their frustration, but at the last moment they yielded, stopping an arms distance from him. “We are hunting the Stick-Killer!” shouted the man in front. “The murderers of our people must be found!” Other voices cried out in support. ‘What good will your anger do?” Po raised his hands to try and quiet them. “You are a mob who will do violence to anyone you find in these woods.” “We must do something,” shouted a woman from back. “Your anger is righteous,” Po told them, “but it is not productive.” The murders had started a month ago, Shorians and Asgarns killed on the road, by a maniac who left sticks at the scene of the crime. The bodies were beaten to death and horribly mutilated. Investigations revealed little. The killer or killers had wiped away any forensic evidence of their identity with swishing branches. The only clues were the sticks and the violence of the scene. “You will not find anything wandering these woods as you are.” “The land around the ring fort belongs to the Northern Confederation,” the big man looked down at Po. “We are going to question travelers.” “You do not need clubs, pitch forks, and axe handles to speak.” Po met their eyes, one by one. “We do if we meet the Stick-Killer,” boasted the big man. “You’ll never meet the Stick-Killer,” countered Po. “We have a right to patrol.” A small man stepped to the front of the group and addressed the big man. “Peng, Philosopher Po is right. We are doing no good out here, blundering down these trails. The killers will see or hear us coming and move into the shadows.” “Shut your coward mouth, Xing,” Peng raised a meaty fist. Xing was not intimidated. “Your anger is more than justified. Peng, your brother was among the slain. We all feel his loss, but truly, the only people we will find out here will be innocent travelers. We will accost innocent people to no purpose. While we are out here, our families are in danger.” “Xing has the right of it. Go home to your families,” said Po. “The guildsmen of Evermoore will be patrolling your roads. While you are out here uselessly wandering, your families are undefended. Protect them and leave the hunting of the Stick-Killers to the guildsmen of Evermoore.” “Let us all go home,” Xing implored them. “We can protect those who we love and let the guildsmen handle the roads.” Peng looked around him. Already his support was fading away. “Philosopher.” He spoke the word like a curse. “You talk overly much. Those of us who want action have sent for the Oathbound. There have not been Oathbound in Evermoore in many years so others think us easy prey. That will change when the Oathbound arrive.” Peng and the others left. Xing remained behind to confide in Po. “Peng is a sore man, but he speaks the truth. The Oathbound will not allow our people to be killed without an answer. They will demand blood for blood. Whoever did this will pay dearly when the Oathbound arrive with their retinues of honor and glory.” Po knew Xing spoke the truth. Though the Oathbound were honorable men and women, they took honor very serious. Their whole lives revolved around their oaths of service to a person or sometimes a cause. There were not as many Oathbound in Shoria today as their once were, but there are enough to make them a force in their society. Those who remained carried on a heritage established in the Age of Life. Their lore is steeped in mysticism and the people of Shoria idolize them. They wear colorful armor of cloth, cord, and laminate and carry two special swords pushed through a belt tied at their waist. The Oathbound would be hard to handle, but they could be managed so long as their honor was not offended. The real problem would be the Oathbroken. These are men and women with broken oaths coming for a chance to atone for their dishonor. They will come to Evermoore as well, following on the heels of the Oathbound, seeking to end their disgrace by doing some act of glory. Many Oathbroken are drunkards and criminals who have fallen far from the honor they once held. They are an uncontrolled, desperate element of Shorian society. “Perhaps we will be able to have the situation in hand by the time they arrive,” Po said. “That would be best.” Xing agreed. “You had best go home.” Po bowed to Xing who returned honor and withdrew, rushing home to his family. Po pulled his mana mirror from the pocket of his pants and began typing out a message, “Guildsmen of Evermoore. I spoke with many of you last market day and you promised to help patrol around the ring fort to protect the Shorian and Asgarn who live in the area. I would like to coordinate our efforts. If you will be spending the time between this market patrolling, please send me a message on this thread.” “I know many of you are already busy. Groups are researching the sticks to try and find out as much as possible about the Stick-Killer from academic sources. Others are dealing with the Karthydian problem, examining the maps discovered during the Sunday morning raid into the Tar Field in order to determine the locations of the nodes the Karthdyians will be trying to convert to Chaos. These task are very important and will likely require your full effort, but there were over 100 guildsmen at the last market and at least a dozen of you promised to help me.” “Guildmasters not researching the sticks or examining the map, gather your guilds and bring them to patrol. Those of you who have military orders, please assemble them. We may not stop every attack, but we can try. Guildsmen assemble!” [Out-of-Play Note: If you want your character to participate in the guarding of the roads around the Ring Fort send Philosopher Po a real-time, in-play message on this thread and your character can then roleplay at the event that you spent the intervening time protecting Shorians and Asgarns. The number of Guildsmen "patrolling" will affect the number of attacks that occur between the events so your between event activity will have a direct relation to your world.]
  • Jarod T.
    Feb 21, 2018

    February 2018 | Epilogue (4 Febris 1018 Sunday) “You WILL help and get them,” Shannon [ Kathleen Burns ] looked defiantly into Sabine’s eyes. The merriment of the Dance of Colors whirled around them. Sabine’s stomach turned. “Yes… I will,” she replied. Xanatos [ Alex Pertgen ] laid a kind hand on Sabine’s arm. “I’ll come with you.” He was instrumental in her freedom from Ionnes’s possession and was one of her biggest advocates. This consoled her. “And you have my help, as well, if you want it,” said a familiar voice from behind her. It was Rex [ Mark Ion ], another generous Guildsmen responsible for her return. “Hey! What are we doing?!” Piped up the cheery, musical voice of Tristan [ Robert Park ]. “Dance of Colors after-party? ...Xanadite style?” The tension roiling between Sabine and Shannon subsided for a moment as they both smiled at his suggestion. Shannon cleared her throat and regained her serious tone, “We’re freeing the remaining Tradesmen of the fight pits who are still imprisoned. Sabine has agreed to guide us there. We leave tomorrow afternoon.” Tristan nodded, “I’m in.” And so the plans were set. And their mission was clear. But that night Sabine didn’t sleep. Was it the silence? Ionnes’s furious voice was no longer filling up her mind for the first time in 6 months. He knew everything about her since he had been pretending to be her for so long. He had access to every memory, every fear, every dark corner of her, and even the food she liked and her favorite song. Was it wrong to say she… missed being so known? “No! No! No!” Guilt, shame, remorse; wash, rinse, repeat. The morning came and she rose out of duty, ready to begin her first day of atonement. Sabine stood in front of the Roasted Dragon Inn, waiting for Shannon, Xanatos, Rex, and Tristan as they said goodbye to their comrades gathering into their caravans to leave the Market Day. She absent-mindedly kicked the gravel to distract herself from her nerves. Knowing she’d soon look into the faces of those she had hurt… she kicked and kicked and kicked the stones. “Um… what are you doing?” A gentle, inquisitive voice asked. Sabine looked up and saw Lydia [ Valerie Fairchild ]… but it was Wisteria who looked back at her with a puzzled look on her face. “I’m, I…the rocks…” Sabine stammered lamely, caught off guard. Not a moment too soon, her party arrived. The three gentlemen greeted her with a smile, while Shannon frowned, all business. “Lead the way,” she said. “I’d like Lydi--Wisteria to come,” Sabine said. “Of course, we could always use more Guildsmen to free the imprisoned,” replied Shannon, “You alright to join us, Wisteria?” Wisteria nodded, still giving Sabine a curious, searching look. The party of 6 started on their journey into the Forlornes. Along the way to pass the time, the group started a discussion about what it means to be a Xanadite. “Well, of course Xanadites have more fun--” laughed Tristan. Xanatos shared his experiences when it came to worship, and even had Sabine blushing. Shannon recalled one version of Xanadu’s creation story, “As the story goes, Noctis sacrificed himself for the creation of Xanadu so that brother would not turn against brother, and that the Age of Order would last for eternity.” Rex, though not a Xanadite like his other 5 companions, showed a lively interest in the lore. Lydia--Wisteria--remained in silent rumination. For the most part their journey was undeterred, though they did encounter the occasional hungry Cold beast. Finally, after weaving through miles of densely grown trees, Sabine stopped at a cave. They were standing in a deeply forested area, so canvased with tall, old evergreens that it made their midday journey appear like a shadowy twilight. “Here we are,” said Sabine, beginning to unlatch a ring of keys from her belt. Her hands shook. The unusually night-like afternoon and the chill in the air sent a eerie tingle down everyone’s spine. Rex lit a lantern, and the party entered the dark cave. Something was wrong. Whenever Ionnes had possessed Sabine to come here, the pleading, tired voices of the prisoners was the first thing she heard. She waited for those voices, their curses, their prayers. In a panic, she stole the lantern from Rex’s hand and ran ahead with it to the captured Tradesmen’s cells. The warm light of the lantern cast down onto empty cells, doors swung open. Sabine’s eyes widened and she fell to her knees on the earthen floor. The rest of the party caught up to her and examined the dozen empty cells. “Where are they?” Asked Shannon. “I don’t know…” Sabine replied softly. Shannon saw the devastated look on Sabine’s face and asked gently, “Are they somewhere else? Do you have more holding cells? Who else knew about them?” Sabine replied, “No more cells, I’m sorry, I don’t know…” she stared with unfocused eyes at the cell before her. “Could this help?” Lydia/Wisteria’s gentle voice chimed in from the dark. She walked over to Sabine and held out a note. “It was tied to a cell.” Illuminated under the lantern light, Xanatos crouched down next to Sabine and read the note aloud: [Attached as Image] Shannon was the first to speak, “Freya [ Kat A Lindia ]… I helped to dispel her subservience last night. She inspired me to come here with you, to save these Tradesmen.” Sabine still seemed to be in a daze. Xanatos spoke up in the dark cave, his words almost haunting, “She wasn’t looking for reconciliation when you dispelled her, Shannon. She was looking for revenge.” Shannon’s matter-of-fact response rang in Sabine’s ears: “Yeah, pretty obvious. She said she wanted to kill Sabine…”
  • Jarod T.
    Feb 2, 2018

    Aiden Skalgi Isle of Asgarn 1 Febris 1018 A.Order The long ship with the red dragon prow was still sliding along the dock when Aiden Skalgi leapt over the rail. He landed on the wooden planks and pushed through the crowd, hurrying toward the shore. His guardsmen followed him, one falling, the others cursing as they tried to keep up with him. Aiden laughed. It was good to be home. He passed a group of soldiers from Shorian and Kell. He paused to thank them for coming to protect his people. A Shorian officer saluted him. Instead of returning the salute, he clapped the man on his shoulder and told him to come by the great hall. “There will be celebration tonight.” Aiden knew where he would find his family. They would be far from the docks, likely outside of the city, gathered in a camp with others from their town. Poor folk from the outlying communities didn’t have money to purchase rooms in town, so he headed out of the city with his guardsmen trotting behind him. His old friend, Gistav, had picked the guards, all young axmen from noble families wanting to become great through association with him. He did not know them well, but there would be time to win them over and ensure their loyalty. If not, Gistav intended to use them as hostages against their fathers should any raise their axes against Aiden’s claim. None of that was important right now. The only thing that mattered to him was finding his family. He asked directions at the first ramshackle camp he found and was told where to find the people from his village. He could no longer jog. The pace was not fast enough. He broke into a run. He crested a hill and saw a familiar tent. He recognized faces, people from his village. He hollered down to them and his run became a sprint. A few people looked in his direction. His guardsmen hurried to keep pace, some of them falling back. He didn’t care. Thora, his wife, stepped from the tent. She brushed a strand of hair out of her face, looking around to see what the commotion was. Then, her eyes met his. She started to run. They met on the road. Embracing. Kissing. She held his cheeks. “Don’t ever leave again!” she told him. “I won’t,” he promised. His son, Arvid, reached them and wrapped his arms around them both. “Father,” he cried. There were tears on the boys face, but Aiden did not chastise him for being weak, as he generally did. The boy would never be a fighter and that was all right. He had decided that if Arvid wanted to be a scholar, then he would send the boy to Guildhall. Aiden looked toward the tent. His daughter Disa was limping toward them on her twisted leg, carrying a practice shield and wooden sword. After a short distance, she dropped them in the road in order to hurry. Disa wanted to be a shield maiden, so she would never cry in front of him. He could see the emotion in her face as he embraced her. She was his favorite. His tough little girl, crippled at birth by the gods so cruel, but never giving up on her dream. His family stood together, holding each other for a long time. The fighting men and women of their village started to trickle in. Other families joined in happy reunions, knots of laughter along the road. A few would not be returning and he heard the grief stricken wails. Their sorrow cut him deeply, but he pushed it away. It was not his fault. He had forced no man or woman to accompany him on the raid to the Dale. They had come on Gunther’s promise of riches and died for that mad fool’s greed. Aiden had picked up the pieces and brought them all home. If not for him and the Guildsmen of Evermoore, they’d still be killing and dying their way across the Dale. “Let’s go home,” Thora said to him, she looked longingly toward the high mountains, far inland from the coast. Towards the village he had once ruled. It had been a poor place and he had no wish to return there. “To our drafty house?” he asked her with a grin. “To our farm of rocks?” She would not meet his eyes. “Let’s just go home and make do,” she said at last. “Arvin?” asked Aiden. “What about you wanting to be a scholar.” The young man shook his head. “I’ll help on the farm. You and mother can’t do it alone.” “Let’s go home father,” said Disa. “I can practice sword and shield anywhere. I’m ready for you to teach me some more of your tricks.” “I am sure you are.” He tussled her hair. She dodged away, stumbling slightly on her leg. A stumble like that in a real fight would mean her death. “I practice every day,” she insisted. “She does,” affirmed Thora, but there was a sadness in her voice because she knew that a crippled girl would never be a shield maiden. She would never pass the tests, and if she did, death would find her quickly. “Then let’s go home,” he told them, smiling large to hide his concern. They gathered their things. Aiden helped them, stuffing threadbare blankets, an old pot, five chipped plates, and mis-matched flatware into one sack. Some worn clothes went into the other. The bedding was tied into bundles and soon they stood in front of their tent. Arvin and Disa moved to take it down. “Leave it,” Aiden told them. “Let’s go home.” He started walking back toward the city. His family did not follow. “Come along,” he motioned. “Father,” said Disa, laughing. “Our house is that way.” “No,” Aiden said firmly. “In that direction was the place where four of my children starved, sickened, and died. Our home is this way.” Thora sighed, shook her head. “Aiden,” she said in the voice she used when he carried a joke too far. “We are done with raiding. You were right. Let’s just go home. Children take down the tent.” Arvin and Disa pulled out the stakes and the cloth fell in on itself. Aiden crossed his arms and waited as the children worked. Gistav walked up with another group of raiders returning to their loved ones. Gistav had never married. He always said, ‘why have one woman when you can have many.’ He was Aiden’s oldest friend. His house was down the street from theirs. He was a carpenter by trade, but fancied himself a bard. He’d spend so much time with Aiden and his family that Thora often remarked he was like another child for her to care for. “Thanks for waiting on the docks,” grumbled Gistav. The large man was out of breath. “I bet you ran the whole way.” “I did,” Aiden replied. “I guess I would have run too if I had Thora to come back to.” Gistav laughed loudly at his joke. “Hello Thora.” “I’m glad you’re not dead.” Thora told him. “What are they doing?” asked Gistav, pointing to the children. “Packing our tent,” Aiden shrugged. “I see that,” Gistav shook his head. “But why?” “My wife told them too. They always listen to her more than they listen me.” The people in the village were beginning to gather around them. Strange looks of awe on their faces. Some were talking to Aiden’s guardsmen. Others were gesturing toward Aiden and looking back to the town. “Children,” said Gistav. “Come over here.” “We are working,” Disa said, indignantly folding the tent. They never listened to Gistav. Gistav walked over and stepped on the cloth. “You don’t need this old tent.” Disa stood up. “You’re in the way.” Her voice was cross, but she was not angry. Gistav always teased her. “We need that tent to get home.” She pushed his ample belly, but he did not move. “You are home child,” Gistav told her. “Look there.” He pointed to the high house on the hill overlooking the town, dead king Harjen’s Hall with its beautiful woodwork and magnificent views. “That is where you live now. Your father is our King.”

2017 by Mystic Realms, LTD.

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