joshuadim
the writer
Dragonpeak, Viken
A soft morning breeze carried itself gently through the mountains and hills of Viken, bringing forth a welcome chill before the midday heat. The sun had only risen, and the people were already at work both in and around the city of Dragonpeak. The peasantry began to prepare their work for the fields ahead of the coming harvesting season, the craftsmen and workers of the cobbled streets went about to their trades. Life was as normal as it could be, though not for one. Standing on an immaculately carved stone balcony to overlook the country stood Uchtred Kragh, the Lord of Viken and Dragonpeak. Such was his ancestral charge, for his family ruled over these lands for centuries even before the Empire. The Lords of the Northern realms looked to him for guidance from both his wisdom and his family name.
And yet, he had reclused himself for some time now. His thoughts drifted from the scenes in front of him to those in the past as the air brushed across his cheeks gently. He had been reminded of the son he had lost from his sleep in the night before, taken by a Glyrran arrow so swiftly from his family. A reminder of his failure of his duties as a father, but also the failures of the Imperials to keep their subjects in line. Had Medwin kept his damn tongue in check his son would still-
“My lord?” a voice called out from behind, bringing Uchtred’s attention back to the world as he turned about. An old face greeted him, his seer of the Old Ways, with a knowing smile as he hobbled over. Even in his advanced age he continued to serve House Kragh dutifully, though such age was very much visible on the old man. Uchtred let out a sad smile as he greeted the Seer wordlessly.
“Another nightmare? I can see it plastered atop your face.” The Seer said with a frown. “I did prescribe you valyrian root for your troubles did I not?”
“The taste doesn’t agree with me.” Uchtred replied with a chuckle, “Rodrik, you ought to rest yourself-“
“Why, because I’m old? Don’t forget you’re only 10 years my junior.” The old seer snapped back with a dry laugh. “I’ll rest when I’m dead and buried. My work is not yet done here.”
“With the way you push yourself, old friend, you’ll get there soon enough.”
Shouts were heard from down below in the keep’s courtyard, bringing both their attentions down below. His grandsons, Riseig and Reimar, were sparring and very clearly having a rowdy time much to the dismay of House Kragh’s man-at-arms, Ser Harald Okil. The latter was chastising the two of them for not taking their practice seriously, which brought out a chuckle from Uchtred.
“My boys. Ever unchanging.”
“Indeed, my lord. They’ll be fine warriors… eventually.” Rodrik commented, “They still need discipline. Otherwise they’ll be rowdy hooligans with swords.”
“Harald is a good teacher. He’ll get them right.”
The door behind them opened again, causing both men to turn their attention. This time it was the steward, a lanky and well dressed man, on approach with a parchment in hand. “My lord, a missive for you.” The man spoke before handing the parchment over.
“From who-“ Uchtred began to ask until he saw the waxed crest binding it together. It was the insignia of House Brentor, a stag with two great horns, impressed upon the red which immediately made the old bear frown. Rodrik noticed the insignia as well and tilted his head in curiosity. “What would the Emperor want with you?” the seer asked with concern, “You haven’t spoken to him in years.”
“Not since the revolt.” Uchtred replied bitterly as he dismissed the steward with the wave of his hand. As the two were left alone on the balcony, Uchtred unrolled the paper after removing the wax and began to read. His eyes narrowed as he read its contents, his mood visibly declining worse with every word that passed.
---
Down in the courtyard, Ser Harald spoke harshly to his pupils: “You must take care of your footing, otherwise you’ll be flat on your arse in a moment’s notice.” He explained under his scowl. Both Riseig and Reimar rubbed their backs and hinds after having been properly schooled by the man-at-arms. “And then you’ll be dead just as quickly with a blade through your gut.” He pointed first to Reimar: “How will you have a tour with the Watchers of the Wall if you can’t even fight properly?” Harald said, before turning his attention to Riseig. “And how will you fight if, gods forbid, a war ever breaks out?”
“Perhaps they need a sparring partner more their level?” a voice called out, drawing Harald’s ire as he turned about towards a Wulpine leaning against one of the wooden pillars of the stables nearby.
“Oh? You think you can teach better than me pup?” Harald replied, feigning offense as he sidestepped and waved towards the two young Kraghs. “Alright then Calder, be my guest.”
“He’s more of a cheer than you, old man!” Riseig taunted with a grin.
“I’m not the one rubbing his back like an elder.” the man-at-arms snapped back.
“He’s got a point there.” Reimar laughed, “He made a fool of us both.”
“Isn’t teaching supposed to be about learning, not about humiliating?” Riseig asked, as he prepared to spar with the Wulpine. The runt was smaller this his counterparts from his clan, but he still retained a weight and size advantage over Riseig. The only issue was that he wasn’t experienced either, for he was only a sworn retainer to House Kragh that had never seen true combat.
“You ready my lord?” Calder asked.
“Always.”
The two engaged in a sparring dance, with their steel clinging through the air in a series of practicing attacks. Harald observed with crossed arms as the two practiced with one another and shouted: “Remember your footing!”
Riseig took the opportunity to pay attention to his legs more so than his arms. He already remembered the routines of swinging a sword as if it were muscle memory. With each step he focused on making sure his balance was steady and his grip on the soil below strong. But suddenly, he found a blade’s edge right at his throat as his guard disappeared.
“That doesn’t mean forget your swordmanship.” Harald then said, on approach to them as Calder disengaged. “You must have your entire body running without thinking.”
Riseig and Reimar looked at Harold with confusion, which brought out a sigh from the man. “You don’t think about breathing, do you?” he then said, finding a proper analogy. “And just so, you shouldn’t think about your footing or your defense. You just do. The mind is useful until it gets in the way.”
“…I suppose that makes sense.” Reimar commented, before tilting his head and looking behind Harald. On approach was the man’s squire, Jomner, who waved to all of them as Harald also turned his attention to the young man. “Lord Kragh has brought forth summons. It seems urgent.”
“We’ll continue later.” Harald then said, “Clean yourselves up and head for the hall.”
---
At the head of Dragonpeak Keep’s hall sat Uchtred as he continued to muse over the letter given to him. The table was empty of material atop it save for a small wooden cup filled with wine. The fireplace behind their table crackled as fresh wood had been placed within recently. Unlike the usual gatherings that took place, this was strictly family business as his granddaughter, Enya, sat nearby and Rodrik took a seat at the end of the table. Enya’s concern over her grandfather was visible as she observed his mannerisms while he read the letter once over again. “Grandfather are you alright?” she asked wearily.
“I’m fine my dear… truly.”
Enya sighed as she twirled her hair, “You needn’t lie to me. I’m not a child.”
Uchtred glanced towards her and frowned. She was right, she had grown up just like Riseig and Reimar had as well. But still, he didn’t want them to be in danger… especially now that the matter of the letter had changed the situation.
The door at the end of the hall swung open, bringing both of them to turn their eyes towards the newcomers. Harald, Riseig, Reimar, Calder and Jomner all approached, though Enya narrowed her eyes at both her brothers who were visibly still somewhat dirty. “Harald, did you trounce about my brothers again?”
“Simply giving them instruction, my lady.” Harald replied with a courteous bow. “Needed lessons in war.”
“It seems they went to war with the dirt instead. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t have them eating it.”
“Fret not, dear sister. We’ll have him eating dirt soon enough.” Reimar commented with a grin, bringing out chuckles from both Riseig and Calder.
Riseig and Reimar took their seats at the table while Harald, Jomner and Calder stood at attention nearby. None save for the Lord and his seer knew the reasoning for this as Riseig was the first to speak: “What’s happened?”
“A letter. From the Emperor.”
This stirred uncomfortable shifting in the room as the three siblings looked to one another in confusion, and the servants of House Kragh looked on with interest. “From the emperor?” Reimar then spoke up, “What would-“
“It’s a summons. There’s a tournament to be held in Ifosea. All the houses of the Empire, Great and Lesser, are invited to attend.” The contents were a grand announcement, yet Uchtred held no joy in his voice upon speaking it.
The air turned from confusion to excitement as Enya piped in: “A tournament! Marvelous!”
“We’re not going.” Uchtred then spoke, bringing the atmosphere to a grinding halt.
Rodrik turned in confusion towards his lord. “You… mean to defy the Emperor?”
“What? Why?” Reimar asked, gritting his teeth. Riseig also made his dissatisfaction known as he leaned forward. “Grandfather, you said it was a summons… so why refuse?”
“I will not lead my family within a hundred leagues of that accursed city.”
Harold was stone-faced as he watched the conversation unfold, though underneath he knew exactly why the old bear was steadfast in his refusal. That didn’t mean he agreed with this however as he resolved to speak with his friend later about this. The siblings continued to protest against Uchtred’s wishes with a flurry of words, but were quickly shut down by him raising his hand. “I will not discuss this further. You are all dismissed.”
Enya was first to storm out, angry at having been denied the chance to see the world while Reimar, Riseig and Calder left the way they came to head back outside. The brother’s mood was dour however as Reimar slammed the door behind them. “You can go for now, watch over the courtyard for now.” Harald spoke to Jomner, dismissing the squire as he stayed in place. Rodrik too did not stir as the two looked at Uchtred. “I suppose you both have choice words for me?”
“My lord,” Rodrik spoke up wearily, “It is unwise to take this course of action. Refusing would put House Kragh at risk.”
“I must agree, my lord.” Harald then said, “It makes us look disloyal in the face of current instability.”
“And if we go, I put all of us at risk.” Uchtred shot back, crumpling up the letter and tossing it onto the table in front of him. “I have no interest in their damnable Southron politics, and yet they will do what they can to draw us into it. That will paint the real target onto my House.”
Harald stepped forward and leaned onto the table with his hands splayed and shook his head. “It will also allow us to find allies. Valuable allies. I’m no politician myself, my lord, but this…” Harald said with a gentle tenderness, “Inaction is worse.”
Uchtred stood up and turned around towards the fireplace behind him, leaning towards the mantle to stare into the flames below as they flickered. Harald approached slowly from behind until he was by his Lord’s side: “I know Lothar’s gone because of them. I miss him every day as if he were my own brother.” The man-at-arms whispered, his voice cracking slightly upon mention of his friend. “But you cannot shield them from the world forever.”
Uchtred remained quiet as the dancing flames reflected in his eyes, allowing the advice of his friend to sink in. It was indeed something for an old man to reckon with, that he could not simply stay with his family. But as he balanced the choices in his mind, he did realize that there was only one option; the one he hated more. “Damn you Verus…”
---
Ifosea, the Imperial City
Uchtred would agree to the summons, sending a raven to inform the Emperor before collecting his House and men to march. Fifty-seven days of travel for House Kragh down south, along with their fellow Northern lords from other provinces, brough them just in time for the beginnings of the tournament. As the system of roads still used to this day from the time of Arathor were used in his conquests, they now were used for easy travel and commerce due to their enduring quality. And this meant that it seemed the entire realm was converging upon the city, besieging it with those eager to either participate or observe a grand event. The festivities were plainly visible even from a great distance away as the large ferry that stewarded the members of House Kragh over the waters and towards the isle it steered ahead. Reimar and Riseig watched with anticipation as the vast scale of the city grew ever larger in their vision.
It was easily several times larger than Dragonpeak, and much more dense as well as they could make out the residences and buildings of the Bayside Wharf come to view. Enya herself was gossiping with other noblewomen her age, remarking on the handsome appearance of Ser Faralt de Befort who was to compete here. Only Uchtred remained stone-faced as he grew ever closer to the Imperial Seat, a feeling of dread filling up inside him. It was his hope that, soon enough, they would all leave as quickly as they had arrived.
Due to the sheer amount of people arriving to the heart of the Empire, the ferrymen were overworked already in the midday as they went between shores without stop. It made Uchtred wonder as to whether or not such a celebration was worth it. He snapped out of his thoughts when a hand placed itself upon his shoulder, making Uchtred turn to see a familiar face. “Ah, Ari, it’s been some time.” He said to an imposingly tall woman clad in great armor.
As the head of House Volksha-Karelic, she too had been invited to enjoy the events and had brought along her retainers and guard. Though it was plain that her husband and daughter were not among them. “Indeed, Lord Kragh.” She said with a small bow, which made the old bear chuckle. “Please, no need for formalities among friends.” He said, “How have you been?”
“Ranrike prospers, though banditry continues to persist in the country. They travel between borders, making them hard to catch from the Riverlands.” She said, “And now… this.”
Ari looked up towards the isle the city sat upon, her weariness growing towards the prospect of being stuck in a city like this for the duration of the festivities. “How is your daughter?” Uchtred asked as he leaned onto the railings of the ferry.
“She is also well. Very smart for her age… more for books than for the blade. My seer has been tutoring her education, and now she’s to observe how to rule as my husband plays regent now.”
“I’m certain she will rule with wisdom when the time comes.”
“Hrm… I hope so. What about your boys? I see you brought them with you.” Ari then commented, turning her head to see Reimar, Riseig and Calder talking to one another. “I see they get along well with the pup.”
“Clan Blackfang saw him a runt, but I insisted that he show his worth with us. He’s been nothing but good to us, and us good to him.” Uchtred said as he nodded to where Calder stood, “He’s like a third brother to them.”
“And the crass brute's been teaching them well? For what good is a man if he doesn’t know how to fight?” Ari then asked.
“It’s going well, my lord.” Ser Harald then spoke up, having overheard their conversation. He gave a bow to Ari before continuing to speak. “Boys still need discipline but they are getting better.” The man-at-arm’s gaze trailed off as to not face her directly, but rather focused on the approaching shore. “We’re here, my lords.”
Uchtred gave a nod to his man-at-arms and excused himself from the conversation to prepare to disembark. As the ferry docked at the Bayside Wharf, the bustle of the city was heard as fishermen went about collecting and selling their catches for the day, while others walked about to their work or to travel to other districts in the sprawling city. This was entirely new to the younger Kraghs as they had never seen such bustling urban life before; Dragonpeak could not even compare and what furthered their collective surprise was the arrival of a carriage that was meant to take them to their destination.
Such luxuries were completely foreign, even as children of nobility, as such opulent displays of wealth were not a staple in the north. The trio of siblings remarked on the luxurious pillows and fabrics inside with their own variances of awe. Uchtred was first to take his place inside, followed by Enya, Riseig and then Reimar, with the door closing behind them by an assigned imperial guardsman. Calder, Harald, Jomner and the retinue that Uchtred brought along were all provided horses to follow along as well from behind, with the squire carrying the banner of House Kragh along with them; and with a crack of the reins, the coachman beckoned the horses forward to pull them along with a sharp jerk.
The three siblings looked about from their windows to observe the city as it passed by them, traveling from the Bayside Wharf to then Stonewall, with its marvelous cobbled streets and imposing stone housings. The common folk could not help but watch as a banner from a land far from the Heartlands trailed through the city, with people observing in wonderment. Riseig couldn’t help but give waves to them to reciprocate their hospitality. Uchtred in contrast was reserved as he watched the familiar roads of Ifosea pass by with a stoic front on his visage. The entire city was a bad memory to him, and he could only sit in silence as to not dour the mood for everyone else.
The cobbles of Stonewall then became the marvelous structures of Briattik Plaza, with its affluence over its neighbor being well known by virtue of its housing materials alone. Wood and tile were key here, made all the more beautiful by artisanal carvings and designs that adorned many of the houses of wealthy merchants and craftsmen that called this place home. It could even be seen that some residences were large enough to have their own inner courtyards. But this was nothing compared to the very heart of the city itself: the Golden District.
Here the housings were of the minor and greater nobility alike, decorated as such and staffed with servantry employed from across the city’s less fortunate districts. And above it all was the Imperial Palace itself, a titanic structure looming above the rest of the sprawling metropolis which beckoned the arrival of House Brentor’s guests. The carriage took the long climb up the sloped entrance that advanced towards the keep itself.
Passing through several arches, staffed by regiments of the Imperial Guard, Reimar couldn’t help but admire the power on display here but was also rather intimidated. “So this is the Emperor’s power…” he muttered to himself, watching the massive banners of House Brentor flap gently in the wind as they draped the sides of the arches.
Reaching the summit of their journey, the carriage came to a stop in a large courtyard that graced the keep’s entrance. House Kragh’s retainers and servants dismounted, with Ser Harald opening the carriage door. Uchtred stepped out, followed by his grandchildren, and observed as upon the steps of the entrance was the Emperor himself, alongside his four sons, as well as a finely dressed Satyr woman that the old bear did not recognize.
The Redguard stood on watch as well as protectors of House Brentor, as did members of the Imperial Council nearby to greet the coming visitors. And more were coming still as more carriages arrived en masse with other Houses arriving at last. The others of House Kragh could not help but look about and feast their eyes on the Imperial Palace’s wonders, but Uchtred’s gaze remained fixed on the Emperor. And likewise, the Emperor stared at Uchtred as the two approached one another.
Ser Eren Bostaque, Lord Commander of the Redguard, observed in silence as the two approached one another until they were directly in front. Uchtred found it hard to say what he wanted to say, but the Emperor was first to speak. “Lord Kragh.”
“Your Imperial Majesty.” Uchtred responded, without a bow or showing deference. A tense moment passed between the two in silence until Verus spoke up again.
“You’ve gotten old.”
Uchtred motioned towards the Emperor himself and scoffed. “As have you.”
Verus looked on in feigned anger, but his façade quickly dropped as he let out a laugh. “But other than that, you haven’t changed, my old friend.”
Despite the anger Uchtred held for House Brentor, he could not help but lower his guard as the two embraced heartily. Riseig leaned over to Reimar as they watched this unfold: “I didn’t know grandfather knew the Emperor that well.” he whispered.
Both Uchtred and Verus released themselves to laugh again. “We have much to discuss, though it must wait for now.” The Emperor then spoke, his gaze wandering towards the coming arrivals. “The entire realm is set to besiege my palace.” He then said, walking over towards Uchtred’s grandchildren and remarking on them. “You look much like your father. A good man, he was.” He remarked to Riseig, who bowed his head. He then turned his gaze to Enya and smiled: “And you have your mother’s beauty, and yet even more so.” Enya herself curtsied respectfully with a smile as a response.
But when his gaze turned to Reimar, the Emperor tilted his head: “And you must be Kragh’s bastard.” Reimar bowed his head, but his pride was stung by the very term. ‘Bastard’ might as well have been a dagger through his heart right now, but Verus made no qualm about it. “Legitimized, but still. Steel yourself from whatever insults other’s might throw at you. For you are still a Kragh, are you not?”
Reimar lifted his head in surprise at the sudden change in tone from the Emperor, and could only nod in response as he found a response lacking in words. “Good lad. You’ll make your family proud, I’m sure of it. Now… I must see to my duties.”
The Emperor returned to the steps and awaited for the other Houses of the realm to disembark, waiting for the other Houses to arrive. Uchtred corralled the others to step away off to the side to not only allow the carriage to leave, but also to observe the coming guests on their approach.
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