About eighty miles upriver of Bechafen is the largely unremarkable village of Gerdouen. No road leads to it, and the only ferry that plies that section of the river is the Kislevite one between Ryazan and Rakhov. If you don't have a boat of your own, the only way to reach it is to either bribe or browbeat the supply galley to Fortenhaf to give you passage, or to make your way on foot through fifty miles of untamed forest. This would normally make for an extremely insular and suspicious population, but Gerdouen is a woodcutting town, and that means that they don't have the luxury of isolationism. Their living relies on lashing together hundreds of felled logs into massive and ungainly rafts to be carried downstream to be caught and pulled in by a boom at Bechafen, and then carrying the profits and the products of civilization that Gerdouen requires all the way home. This makes for a village of contradictions: an economy that is both intertwined with civilization but also as independent as they can make it, a population that is necessarily both gregarious and suspicious as they must be as able to find a buyer in Bechafen as they are to ward off a suspicious stranger on the way home, a population that is staunchly Ostermarker but for whom the vast majority of the outsiders they see are from the Kislevite ferry illegally anchoring there overnight.
It is a nexus of borders and boundaries being crossed: land and water, wild and civilized, urban and rural, independent and interlinked, Ostermark and Kislev. And that makes it as steeped in the power of the Hedge as any of the Colleges are in their own form of power.
If you want to find Gerdouen on the map then it can be found in the northeast between Bechafen and Fortenhaf on this map:
If you want to find Ryazan and Rakhov you can find them on the southeast of this fanmade map of Kislev from the same source:
In terms of worldbuilding this is probably a masterclass on the method in which Boney builds his world. Boney probably first considered at what points an Ostermarker Hedgewise would like to place themselves based on information he already knew about Hedgewise, and he knew they would like boundaries. Between rural and urban, wilderness and civilisation, and even Kislev and Ostermark. So then you can pinpoint the locations they would prefer by looking at boundaries.
Boney then probably narrowed it down further by focusing on ones close to Bechafen and the border, so he chose Gerdouin. As far as I know, Gerdouin doesn't have canonical information, but there's a good amount of Bechafen and Fortenhaf, two major towns of which hold a key role in Ostermark's economy. With that in mind, and keepin that Gerdouin is right next to a river and deep in the woods, it then becomes obvious what they do to survive: woodsmanship.
From there things start to surface naturally and Boney can create and flesh out a vibrant set piece by asking questions to himself about the relevant things to the narrative and answering them, presenting them in completed form within the update. With that, Boney has created a village that plays an important role within the life of the Empire, fleshes out some of the day to day work of the people living the fringes, and explores the concepts and areas that the Hedgewise like to reside in as a prelude to the actual introduction to the Baba.
You'd debated leaving Johann in Bechafen, but he's long since proven his trustworthiness and discretion, and besides that you're not entirely confident the villagers wouldn't react to the sudden appearance of a lone Grey Wizard in their midst with the swing of an axe. So the two of you make your way east along the southern bank of the river from Bechafen, you on Shadowsteed and Johann on foot, limbs of gold and shadow finding easy purchase where mere flesh would struggle. Despite that it's still relatively slow going, and though you left Bechafen at first light, the sun is high in the sky by the time you approach your destination.
You finally emerge from the besieged border of the forest into a field of half-excavated stumps, and the rhythmic chopping you've been following stops immediately as the heads of those working nearby turns to you. Those who aren't carrying an axe wear a hatchet on their person, and most of those hatchets now have a hand edging closer to it. "I bring and seek no trouble here," you say, waving a greeting in a hand symbol of the Hedgewise that Kurtis Krammovitch taught you, which is eerily similar to a sign with the same meaning used in Ranaldian cant. "I simply wish to speak to a village elder."
Despite not being initiated into the Cult or even being an actual part of any Thieves' Guild, Mathilde knows Secret Language (Thieves' Tongue):
"Part of Ranald's curious nature stems from the fact that this God has a several different aspects. To most, he is known as the Night Prowler, God of Thieves and patron of thieves and rogues. Venerated by the criminal elements in the Old World, his symbols and sayings serve as the foundation for much of the secret language used by thieves." Page 46
I suppose the secret Ranald club at the Colleges might have taught her that. This, combined with another part later on, does tend to push me towards the direction of further believing the Hedgewise here are connected to Ranald. Either they secretly worship him, or more likely, they worship Haletha or another diety that has a connection to Ranald. Likely one of the Daughters.
Eyes go to the guns on your waist and to Johann's golden claw, and you can see them weighing the odds. "That would be your right, Magisters," the eldest of them, a large, scarred woman with a wooden leg, eventually says. You resist the urge to correct her. A noble addressing you as merely Magister would be a deliberate insult, but on the fringes of the Empire 'Magister' is used interchangeably with 'Wizard'.
Mathilde has gotten very comfortable with her new Lady Magister title and she seems to be rightfully attached to it, for her to have an instinctive urge to indicate her position. You know, this is kind of like those professors who get offended when you refer to them as "Mr" and tell you to call them "Doctor, I didn't get this degree for nothing". On one hand, it is her right and she is correct to be proud. On another, it's probably not the best way to endear yourself to people, since it makes you look like you're full of yourself.
You edge cautiously around the unmoving and heavily armed group of lumberjacks to follow the woman, the silence stretching as you and Johann are led through the field of stumps, between rows of crops, and towards the village proper. "Have you had any trouble with Beastmen recently?" you ask to break the silence.
"We've not seen hide or hair of the tainted beasts for seasons."
Strange. They'd normally be the first to be taking advantage of unrest in the forests. "No other disturbances?"
"Not until today," she says shortly.
Fair enough.
There are several reasons for why that might be, particularly since the Empire has had so much trouble with Beastmen lately. The Beastmen warherd that attacked Laurelorn, the Tzaangor in the Middle Mountains that Regimand chased, the Beastmen fighting the Vampires in the ruins of Mordheim during the Mordheim campaign, the Beastmen warherd that was building itself up in the Forest of Shadows which Asarnil killed off, the Beastmen that Boris destroyed on the northern border with Nordland that led Boris to notice that Laurelorn was being attacked.
Maybe Drycha is dealing with them. Maybe Morghur's presence in Karag Dum is causing them to act erratically somehow. Maybe Malagor is mustering Beastmen forces for some sort of plan. There isn't enough to data to propose any solid theories.
You are taken to Baba Brzeginias, who is a wiry old woman with white hair and milky eyes that still appear disconcertingly sharp behind the haze, and she too has a hatchet on her hip. Her cottage is built right on the treeline and the inside is crowded with hanging herbs and cloves that threaten to knock your hat off. You don't hesitate to drop Kurtis' name, not entirely sure the woman is still able to make out the hand signs of the Hedgewise you are performing.
I assumed for certain that she was a Hag Witch considering her name, the "Baba" title and her general aesthetic. I suppose that's a bit reductive of me. Not all Kislevite women need to be Hag or Ice Witches. The crossover between the Hag Witches and Hedgewise are pretty significant in the border here anyway, so maybe they pass along people who have the talent for the other practice every now and then instead of forcing them to learn something they're not suited to.
I've also noticed a subtle thing that is never really called out in narrative. Johann consistently sits out of Mathilde's meetings with Brzeginias. The Ostermarker and Ostlander Hedgewise, like the Hag Witches, believe that men should not cast magic because they are prone to the influence of Chaos, so Mathilde probably wanted to side step any cultural barriers. That was so subtle that I would have missed it if I didn't question why Johann didn't accompany Mathilde in there.
"Tch," she says to the name. "Good family. Tragic, what happened to them. What was done to them." Her eyes flick to your hat, but after a tense moment she shrugs. "He is a good boy. If he says you are a friend, then you are at least not an enemy. What brings you here, to the edge of the east?"
Mathilde wearing a Witch Hunter hat to meet an illegal magic caster... I don't know if that's ballsy or stupid. Mathilde at least took off the hat when she met with Roswita again at the head of a Dwarven throng. Maybe she just missed the context of coming in with that hat on her head, or maybe she just doesn't want to apologise for being who she is and will just bring her Witch Hunter hat wherever now. Mathilde's certainly been more brazen on certain topic as of late.
"Though it appears to have passed you by, there's a great deal of unrest in northern Ostermark of late, and nobody seems to know why. I want to fix that."
"Why do the Greys care now? You have always left the Forest to us."
"I'm here at the request of Magister Patriarch Paranoth, of the Jade Order."
She snorts. "Them. They should stick to gardens and orchards. Their ilk might have uses back west, but here they have only ever got in the way." She considers you thoughtfully. "If you go back with no answers, he will send another."
Though she didn't phrase it as a question, you nod. "I believe he would."
"I do not know, because I have not needed to know. If it comes to Gerdouen, I cannot stop it. If it doesn't, I need not concern myself. But if it means keeping the tree-lovers from sending more questioners, we can stick our hands in the knothole and see what bites us." She rises onto steady feet and strides over to a window to peer up at the sky. "Tch. You've missed noon. Come back at dusk, and we shall see what we shall see."
I'm sensing some serious animosity here. I have a feeling the Hedgewise and Druids never really got along, and knowing the differences in their beliefs and magical practices and cultures I can understand why. The Hedge care about boundaries, including boundaries between wilderness and civilisation, but they don't care much about nature in its own right so much as a home for them and their own. There might be some similarities, but they are distinct groups, and I can definitely see them clashing on areas when their interests interfere with each other.
Also coincidentally, Dusk and Dawn are when Ulgu peaks in power. Considering who Mathilde was going take a look on, Drycha was probably at her best when Mathilde took a look. Especially if it's still Spring right now. If it's Summer, then it's also acceptable.
It seems that the entire village has been lurking just outside, half of them watching Johann and half of them the cottage, but most of them start to disperse after Baba Brzeginias tuts and flaps a hand at them. You summarize the exchange for Johann who frowns at you. "So, what, we just wait here for something like five hours?"
You shrug. "There's always something that needs doing in a village. We might as well pitch in while we wait."
After some awkward conversation with the nearest villagers, you and Johann break through their air of extreme caution with boasting and before long you've returned to the edge of the forest that the village is currently felling
I find the image of Mathilde and Johann just walking up to someone to brag about how much cool shit they can do to be extraordinarily amusing.
It's been a while since Branulhune was put through its paces, and while a human smith would be greatly offended at a sword of theirs being used to fell a tree, Dwarves believe there should be no difference between a proper tool and a proper weapon.
It is said that a Runefang can cut through a tree trunk so cleanly that the tree remains standing afterwards and still needs to be pushed over. Perhaps this illustrates the difference between even the greatest Runelord of the modern era and the legends of the distant past, because Branulhune hits with a deafening crack of thunder and a numbing judder sent up your arm, and it sends a swarm of wooden splinters flying in all directions, pinging off your Aethyric Armour and Johann's golden skin. But though it lacks the elegance of the Runefangs, the tree is nevertheless felled, and Johann lives up to his own boasting by sinking golden claws into the wood and dragging it across the ground without need of a sled. The villagers begin to look at you with calculating eyes, and you wonder if you might have miscalculated.
I'm actually wondering about something here. Why is Mathilde's hand juddering? Mathilde has already mentioned that her sword cuts through things like butter because the rune imparts the exact amount of force necessary to slice through:
"The Rune of Superior Skill, I've yet to have an opportunity. Didn't give any of them the chance to empower themselves. But your Rune is fantastic. Just the right amount of force, every time."
"'Course," he says. "Be damn foolish to have it tearing itself out of your hands with every strike.
Is it because the sword's rune focuses on strength, and therefore when the sword detects the tree it goes "go cannonball force here" and that causes her hands to judder. I assumed her sword might crush straight through, but I didn't think it would leave a significant backlash onto Mathilde herself.
Also, good on Johann for finding a workaround his body not being able to handle the power of his claw. Instead of trying to lift the tree, which would involve his shoulders, deltoids and lats, her just smashes his claws in and uses the force of the arm to drag, which means none of his actual muscles interact with the tree itself, so he doesn't end up ripping himself apart.
By the time dusk approaches, you're tired and bruised and will probably be picking splinters out of your plaits for days, but there's enough logs stacked at the riverbank that Bechafen is going to see an extra visit from the youth of Gerdouen this year and the locals no longer seem on the verge of drawing steel. You leave Johann with the villagers, many of whom have grown rather friendlier since he removed his shirt - a habit he seems to have picked up in Tor Lithanel
I will take this opportunity to suggest that Johann takes his shirt off to attract Kadoh's attention. Thank you for your time.
and once more enter the cottage of Baba Brzeginias. She looks up from the fire she is prodding with a poker, and holds out a bone for you that you really hope came from livestock. "Here. Don't drop it. If anything happens that shouldn't, break it over your knee."
You gingerly take the bone, and you're as ready to flinch back with your mystic senses if you find anything untoward as your fingers are if it detects any scrap of remaining flesh. But though the bone thrums with energy, it's an energy you're unable to directly perceive. It seems like a faint star that seems clearly visible from the corner of your eye but disappears if you look directly at it. But despite its elusiveness there's a familiarity to its energies, one that would feel oddly comfortable to you if you weren't immediately suspicious of that feeling of comfort.
First, I would like to say that I found this part very funny. Mathilde coming in and looking creeped out at the bone, wondering where it came from, preparing herself to flinch if she sees any meat. Priceless.
Secondly. The energy that Mathilde seems unable to directly percieve, that it seems like a faint star clearly visible from the corner of her eyes but disappears if she looks at it. That it's elusive yet comforting. It rings a ton of bells regarding several descriptions of Ranald's divine energy:
A God, it is sometimes said, can be compared to a mortal being in the same way that the sun can be compared to a smouldering ember. You doubt that it was meant literally, but from looking Ranald-wards, you start to think it might be on to something. The fragment of the being you can see does not look materially different from the soul of the beings around you, just - 'just'! - astonishingly greater in size and intensity. Though you suppose you can't be sure that you're looking at Ranald Himself, you could be looking at the outermost edge of Ranald's domain within the Aethyr. Though you must admit you don't even know enough to say whether that's a meaningful distinction.
Perhaps my brain just attached the Sun metaphor to the Star, but I think it's surprisingly fitting. Ranald is a sun because he's Mathilde's god. He's close to her and incredibly strong besides. If this is His Daughter, then she would be a faint star to Mathilde.
"Ready?" she asks, and you turn your attention to her.
"Will this be a ritual? What will it entail?"
"Tch. Colleges." She reaches into a bowl on the mantle and pulls out a fistful of ash, which she throws at the northern wall. The timbers shudder and begin to part, but instead of the village that should be beyond you find yourself looking with mundane senses at something you have only ever seen with Magesight. The life of the river and the forest beyond unfolds before you in overlaid energies, the soft, faint slow-souls of the trees and the darting energies of animals twinkling like dying embers. But beyond all of the mundane energies of forest life and the occasional flaring oddity that seems to sense your attention and dart out of the way, is a blazing sun of shadowed energies.
[Mathilde's Perception: Learning, 64+29=93.]
[???'s Magesight: 16+??=??.]
I'm not sure if this was unintentional or a deliberate callback, but regardless I think it's sweet that Mathilde mimicked Panoramia's descriptions of tree souls with "Slow-Souls" like so:
She laughs. "Embarrassing, in the end. I had fretted so much about never getting it, then when it pulsed in such a way that it was undeniable I realized it'd been there for years. I didn't realize that most people can't feel the rhythm of the seasons or the slow-soul of a tree."
It's very cute. The actual description of everything is amazing as always and I would be remiss not to mention that as well.
Far to the north, fury and Ulgu intertwine in a storm of bewitchment enfolding a mass of life, the sharpness of hungry beasts and the ireful fire of thinking beings on the warpath, and hovering overhead like vultures are slivers of attention from the Four who only ever bring ill - though you cannot tell if they had a hand in these events or are merely watching it for entertainment or opportunity. At the heart of it all the center of the storm finally turns, and you find yourself flinching back from a sense of bottomless wrongs, and you find the alien cadence of recited evils springing to your lips. Bone splinters beneath your fingers and suddenly you are back in the hut, left with nothing but the echoes of festered wrath and the smell of lilac.
It's interesting to me that Drycha resonates so much with Ulgu despite her absurd wrath seeming to lean more towards Aqshy. Like yes, trees are weak to fire, but I think it could work regardless. My interpretation is that Drycha's Ulgu is very different from Mathilde's Ulgu, driven by a sort of purpose and focus that Mathilde has never had when it comes to the Wind. Mathilde views Ulgu as her savior, but I'm quite certain that Drycha just views it as one more tool to add to her arsenal.
I also think it's cool that we finally face a villain whose primary Wind is Ulgu.
"Pfah," Baba Brzeginias says, and plucks a sprig from one of the dangling lines and throws it in the fire, and a heavy, earthy smell drowns out the lilac. She sits before the fire and looks thoughtfully at the wall that had just seemingly unfolded. "Have you ever seen the ocean?"
"A time or two."
"Deep waters, I hear, deeper than the mind can fathom, filled with enormous and terrible beasts. Our river here is so very small in comparison, and the creatures but minnows. If one of those ocean beasts found their way into these waters, they would find themselves constricted, suffocated and starved from waters too shallow to cover them and prey too tiny to nourish, and a time would arrive when they would surely die if they did not retreat back to where they came from. But oh, the terror they could wreak before that time arrived."
You consider that. The Forest of Shadows would not be considered a metaphorical meander by any stretch of the imagination, so there are only two candidates for what could be considered a comparative ocean. And while Laurelorn is starting to look outside its borders, you're fairly confident they haven't quite reached the point where they're interfering with events four provinces away from them. That just leaves one other possibility, a possibility that has never been shy about unleashing terrors upon the rest of the continent: Athel Loren. An Asrai warhost or a murder of Dryads, and it would be difficult to say which would be the greater evil.
"Things will be bad for my cousins across the border," she continues, "but they have withstood worse. And it means you can go back to your leaders and tell them that Ostermark need only ride out the ripples from the creature splashing about."
I love this metaphor. It's strong and evocative and fitting to the situation at hand, and makes the final reveal that Athel Loren is on the move all that much more impactful and terrifying. Fantastic writing.
Only the mad travel the Forest of Shadows at night if they do not need to, and you spend the night in murmured conversation with those whose turn it is to watch over the sleeping village, learning a little more of the community that has so thoroughly embraced the Hedgewise
I do love how Boney makes the most of Mathilde's Ulgu aspect to show that she is constantly wondering, thinking, simulating, learning and desiring to learn more and interact and integrate into new cultures and learn learn learn. It's a wonderful way of demonstrating an introspective character who doesn't spend paragraph after paragraph meandering through internal dialogue, but of one who's focused on learning more and always curious, always questioning. It's the perfect way to inform the audience as much information as possible while demonstrating that as Mathilde grows in magical power, so does her thinking and desire to learn. Maybe this is just a mundane curiousity, but I deeply believe that Mathilde is far too entwined with Ulgu for the mundane and mystical distinction to even matter anymore.
Every axe of the village has runes carved in the haft by thorns cut when Mannsleib was in wane. Every man of the village wears a pouch of bat-leather filled with herbs to ward off misfortune and maladies, and every woman the wings of a dragonfly to ward off the attention of the dead and damned.
I was about to go over this, but
@mathymancer thankfully already did. Go check out their post.
And when the young and strong are away delivering the bounty of Gerdouen to the city, they do so believing that their mothers and aunts are watching over them from the other side of the Hedge - which must be as welcome for the journey to and back as it would be frustrating when presented with the many intriguing and expensive varieties of sin available in the city. And despite their relative isolation, the rare dalliances that the young women of the village are able to enjoy with Ostermark cityfolk and Kislevite sailors very reliably provide fresh branches to what could otherwise be very narrow and gnarled family trees.
I always find it amusing at how many creative innuendos and implications Boney can put into his work without ever outright mentioning those things explicitly. I'm starting to believe that that's just a measure of Mathilde's internal narrative than Boney's writing style, because she has proven to be the type that prefers to allude to thing rather than be crass about it. She's definitely the type of person to use the word "erotica" instead of porn.
Speaking of which, you do not comment when Johann reappears the next morning, though it is impossible to completely resist the urge to indulge in some private speculation as to how and in what company he spent the night.
Me too Mat, me too.
As the two of you return to civilization, you use Johann as a sounding board for the matter at hand. You have more answers than you started with: a force from Athel Loren and shrouded in Ulgu is active in Kislev's Southern Oblast, and the direct effects on the Empire are likely to be no more than knock-on disruptions. Perhaps that is sufficient answers for Paranoth. But there are still unanswered questions, and it could be argued that the order needing restoring represents either opportunity or obligation.
As a general note, Drycha wanders the forests of the world looking for artifacts and relics that she can use to shatter the shackles that hold Coeddil in the Wildwood. That is a possibility for what she is doing, if a metagamey one.
The matter is:
[ ] Concluded
The disruptive force originated in Athel Loren and is active in the Southern Oblast, making it not the Empire's problem. This is enough information for Paranoth. Send him what you know and return to Tor Lithanel.
[ ] Incomplete
You cannot call your investigation complete when you do not know the composition or the objective of the force active in Kislev. Investigate further.
[ ] Opportune
There are individuals and organizations within Kislev you would benefit from a closer relationship with, and this presents an opportunity to forge those relationships. Offer your services to Kislev in restoring order to the region.
[ ] Obliging
The Empire is being disrupted by these events. The knowledge you have gathered here obliges you to do what you can to restore order to the region. Offer your services to Ostermark in holding back the worst of the disruptions and opportunists.
Not even a question. I'm going Opportune. I want Kislev.
@Boney I'm not sure why, but your Babushkas are so vibrant for some reason. It's like I can hear them in my head in the exact voice that I would expect from them, and their personality is also exactly what I'd expect. First it was Liljiana, and now Baba Brzeginias. They almost pop up out of the page and reprimand me.
[X] Opportune