1629, Earth Season, Fertility Week, Waterday
Context
In Wilmskirk on the day that the Wolf Pirates fled. Session SA-5-W.09.
Events
En route to getting herself cleaned up, Varanis encountered one of the Boldhome Wind Lords, directing a handful of locals to ride out to some of the nearby farms to check for stray Wolf Pirates. With a quick wave to Serala, the Vingan offered to ride out alongside them.
The few who were in Boldhome were a small force, there just to keep the Temple. They look harried, and their fyrd are in need of leadership. The offer is accepted, and the day spent making sure of the safety of the nearby area. By afternoon it is clear that no wolf pirates have come this way – so far. She can go back to Wilmskirk with her little band of warriors.
By now, Kallyr and those who came overnight from Tarsh with her have departed. Tennebris has headquarters in the house of the City Rex, still currently Farinst. Reports on the surrounding area should go to him.
Varanis tells the members of the improvised unit to go wash the dust off, eat something, and try to catch a bit of rest. They may be needed again.
She leaves her irritable black mare with a capable looking young woman who says she manages the king’s horses, and makes for Farinst’s hall.
There are no guards on it now, but plenty of warriors hanging around. Varanis is invited in and after someone has heard what she wants she is ushered to a side room to wait. There, she is given a drink and a bite to eat by Queen Ivarsa, a woman rather younger than her husband. Giving Varanis an up-and-down look, she asks, “Are you here for my man, or the Storm Voice?” That implies she has not been told, which means… something, in this context.
“Tennebris is still about?” Varanis asks. “I have a report for king Farinst, but if the Storm Voice is present, I should speak with him too.”
Ivarsa is worried and tired, and probably vetting people who are going to be talking to those who are important.1Special on Insight, fail on Intrigue. “They’re together. Eat up, drink up. I’ll not have people saying my house leaves guests hungry. Do you know they say my husband’s married to Vareena’s girl as well as me?” There is a bit of challenge there, but nothing angry. It is just a fact, put out to see what Varanis makes of it.
“My Eurmali lied to save Serala’s life. I guess he did it rather convincingly, because even she believed it for a minute.”
Varanis eats and drinks what is on offer, making efficient work of it, instead of picking as she so often does.
Ivarsa sits down. “She’s not his type.” Her word choices say she is not like the other queens.2Varanis passes Speak (Heortling) “I know his type. I am it. But I don’t want it known that he’s the father of her child, right?” It seems like she is just checking this will not happen. Despite the Eurmali she trusts her husband.
Varanis nods. “I’m pretty sure the father is a Grazelander,” she offers.
“I’ll go check on ’em.” Ivarsa changes her mind about sitting, and stands easily. If she is pregnant, as rumour says, it is only a little bit. “On them.” The correction seems automatic, and a little tired.
When Ivarsa stands, Varanis does so too. She gives the woman a bow appropriate to the rank of a tribal queen. It’s the same bow she’d offer Henetha, queen of the Culbrea. “Thank you for your hospitality, Queen Ivarsa.” She gives no indication of noticing the slip in dialect.
Ivarsa walks out with confidence, and is back in about two minutes. “They can see you now. Do you know the way?”
“It depends on where they are meeting,” Varanis admits, rising again.
Ivarsa holds the door open. “Big hall. I’ll take you.”
The Vingan matches her step to that of the queen, silently observing the people who are moving about the same halls.
The queen strides out like she owns the place, although they do not have to walk far. Varanis has been in this hall before, when she was facing the King over Devolin’s behaviour. Now there is a big table in here, with a map of Wilmskirk and the surrounds on it, and Tennebris is there, talking to Farinst over a shared cup of wine. People are coming and going, but Varanis still gets the Storm Voice’s attention. That makes Farinst turn, and he almost ignores Varanis in favour of smiling at Ivarsa.
Tennebris nods Varanis to approach.
She does, offering them both a bow. “Lord king, Storm Voice. I’m just back from riding out with a group from the fyrd. May I?” She gestures at the map.
“Of course.” Tennebris offers over the cup.
Ivarsa murmurs to her husband, “You got more meat on than this one. I’m stickin’ with you for now.” It is just loud enough to be heard. Farinst might respond, but Ivarsa kisses him and walks out.
Tennebris struggles, and fails, not to notice.
Varanis politely ignores Ivarsa’s comment as she takes a sip from the cup before passing it back. She stares at the map for a long moment, getting oriented. Then, she stabs a finger at it. “Here. We started here and then rode… probably about this far. Swept out to here,” she indicates a stream, “then back this way. No reports of pirates at all. In fact, no reports of anything unsettling, it seems. It was almost too quiet.” She shrugs. “Might be worth checking again in the morning.”
Tennebris nods, and a slightly flustered Farinst catches up with the conversation. “That’s up towards the Locaem,” he says. “They’ll probably be on the way with what muster they have, and they’ll meet the messengers.”
“We expect the Colymar to be arriving towards the end of tomorrow,” Tennebris says smoothly. “And they will be coming along that road too.” Then having mentioned that he turns to Farinst, “Would you ask their forces to fan out once they have passed Greyrock?”
That seems to mean something to Farinst, although there is only a small nod in answer. He is still blushing a little.
“There were two ships’ worth at Whitewall,” Varanis says. “Haralast managed to buy them off, which was good. The city couldn’t have held out, especially when they lost the gates. They should have returned to their ships, but I don’t know what they’ll do when they hear about Gunda. If we’re lucky, they’ll decide to take what they have and sail.”
“We’ll let them get onto their ships before we start burning the vessels,” Tennebris says. “They are currently in Wasp Rider territory, which makes flying over them tricky.”
“The Wasp Riders can be negotiated with,” Varanis tells them. “We had a handful of their warriors supporting Whitewall. I could speak to them if you wish. Or rather, I’d have Finarvi do it. They seem to like the Grazelander.”
Tennebris looks at Farinst, who is one big wince. The King says, “They call us ‘dead meat walking’.”
Tennebris weighs that. “Maybe.”
Varanis’ eyes widen, making the dark shadows beneath them look even more like bruises. “Finarvi has a way with them, I suppose,” she offers finally.
“It would have to be done quickly,” Farinst says, “And that seems dangerous to me. Wasps mislike sudden movements.”
Varanis shrugs. The offer has been made and it’s up to them to decide whether or not it’s useful. She glances between the two men. “Your majesty, I wonder if I might borrow the Storm Voice for a few minutes? Or else, Lord Tennebris, may I arrange for a few minutes of your time privately, when you have it to spare?”
The men share a look, and Tennebris says, “Now is best.” Farinst gestures to a side room, and Tennebris leads the way.
It is oppulent. This is a room for impressing people with how a closed, seldom-used room can be decorated.
It’s a lovely room. If Varanis weren’t so exhausted, she’d take notes for her own house.
Tennebris gestures Varanis to sit down, and takes the bigger seat, a chair with painted leather padding, and gold-leaf decoration.
The moment they are out of sight of anyone else, Varanis stumbles badly. She catches herself against the wall, then makes her way to the cushioned stool and drops onto it heavily.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” she mumbles. “It’s all catching up a bit fast. Just a moment to clear my head.”
After a moment of alarm, he nods. “Take what you need. I can have a blanket sent in, even.” He does not look like he has rested much either, and lets a yawn escape.
She takes in measured breaths as she attempts to regain her focus. Finally she shakes her head. “I’ll be fine. I just… it’s fine.” She blinks several times, then peers over at him. “How did you get here? How did she get here? And so quickly?”
“I marched. She called on the star that serves her. We both have our own ways.” Tennebris looks proud as he talks about Kallyr.
“But how did you know? Serala rode as messenger, but she barely made it to Wilmskirk in time. I prayed… but… it was so far and Sartar’s response was muted.”
“We knew something was going wrong as soon as they crossed the border,” Tennebris muses. “Late that evening I called for a muster, hoping to be wrong. Then towards morning the Brazier flared, and not long after, Kallyr’s command was heard. Was that you?”
She looks uncertain. “I… don’t know. I asked Sartar to help Haralast protect his city. To give him wisdom in his dealings with the pirates. I told him that I was trying to bring Whitewall back to the protection of the kingdom.”
“When?” Despite another yawn, Tennebris looks interested.
She gives an answering, jaw cracking yawn of her own. “Ow. Um. Shortly before Yelmrise, just before the Wolf Pirates arrived at Whitewall. We treated with them there,” she winces, her hand unconsciously reaching for her shoulder, “then when I realised we hadn’t heard back from Wilmskirk, I rode through the night to get here. So… two nights?” ((Insight or INT*5: She’s exhausted enough that she’s not certain about the timeline. ))
Tennebris nods slightly. “Then we found out what was happening from you. Kallyr called on Polaris and brought some hand-picked warriors, and I met them with the Fyrd, after a day march that left us with enough space to rise, armour, and come to meet her. She was walking down from the sky overnight.”
She mulls that over. “Maybe that bodes well for Whitewall returning to Sartar, then. I’m hoping Haralast takes the king’s test. He did well in the face of the threat.”
Tennebris looks up to the ceiling, which is painted with the constellations of the Lightbringers, and then back down to Varanis. “Perhaps. We did not – she did not – feel them when they were at Whitewall, but the Wyter of Boldhome did hear you.”
“I think I’m going to sleep a while. What are your orders, my lord? I feel that I can be of service here or in Whitewall, but should go where I best serve Sartar. I’m just too tired to decide where that is right now.” This time, she yawns first.
Tennebris manages not to, although there is a deep sigh. “Ask me again when you have slept, if I am still here,” he suggests. “If I am gone, then Farinst may have suggestions but it is more likely that Whitewall will call you.” He gets up, with a creak of leather and wood.
She nods, yawning again already. “Think they’d mind if I nap here? S’quiet. Almost.”
Tennebris has more confidence than Varanis does. “I’ll have Farinst put a guard on the room. How long do you want?”
The Vingan shifts to the floor, putting her back against a wall. “Someone shud write a song… Polaris, Kallyr, and dead, dead Gund…” She asleep before she can answer his question.
- 1Special on Insight, fail on Intrigue.
- 2Varanis passes Speak (Heortling)
