A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover

[DragonParadox]

A Vow in Flame Writ ​

Third Day of the Twelfth Month 294 AC

The three-headed dragon has traveled far this year; from the battlements of the Red Keep, to which it had been restored, to the tallest tower of Casterly Rock, a lion's den no more, to the walls of Qohor, where the sign of the Goat now lies in crumbled ruin. Yet today it would be raised upon the farthest shores beyond the ambitions of Aegon, beyond any realm of mortal man for many a long age since the spheres were parted. Yet as you watch the Moonchaser, the Gladius, and the Makhaira make their way through the clear blue of summer skies and into the fiery unknown of the Sea of Fire, you know that there is more than pride to this moment, there is peril. To stake a claim to any part of the chaotic patchwork of the Sea of Fire might as well be to drive a stake into the foot of the Heir of Iblis so shall it wound him.

As crimson scales scrape over the fine marble of your Throne Room in sight of the full Curia, drawing eyes curious and wary, you are all too aware that this is not tiny Naath you have agreed to aid, the target of the odd slaver who dares the perilous seas. Nor is this merely a den of pirates such as one might have once found in the Stepstones or among the Basilisk Isles, the comparison the Times and many of the local papers had been making use of. Even pushed to the brink, their capital under bombardment, their palace crumbling under the weight of efreeti might, the Cobalt Scales yet hold sway over many clans and many islands. Just how many and how far is a matter of debate, for it is hard to plot upon a map the complex lines of vow and allegiance, debt and tribute that defines the agricultural and trading communities of the Sea of Fire.

Power flows like oil upon steel, the saying goes. The steel is sharp tonight, the oil near to kindling. Amrelath would return with the queen in the company of the Harbinger, each symbols of your rule, but also of your pledge of protection to a realm in dire need of aid.

"Hail, Larissa, Queen of the Cobalt Scales. What do you seek before the throne of the Imperium, gracious and good ally?" you ask in what to the manner of the corsair clans is almost too flattering a manner, but which is meant more for he princes and voices of the Curia who would soon enough seat her among their numbers

For all the poetic justice of replacing some of the artisans you lost in the attack on the Dale with new citizens pressed in to your arms by the very swords of the Sultan, one should always keep in mind that poets make rather poor strategists and aesthetics do not spare one the cruel tyranny of mathematics. Your capacity to project power is stretched perilously thin.

"We come to place our crown at your feet, Lord of Fire. No more do we ask than for safe harbor in times of war and for fair dealings in times of peace. No less will we accept."

Some of the watchers are shifting in their seats, though whether at the strangeness of the petitioner now before them in the flesh or at the brusqueness of her manner, you cannot say for certain. Your words are calm and certain, your gaze does not wander from the slit eyes like like molten copper. "As has been asked of us, so do we offer our protection and our aid to those who would come to us for it. Let it be known from this day forth that any who would make war upon the Cobalt Scales make war upon the whole of the Imperium."

Thus tribute is ceremonially given, fire wine and spice-bread. In exchange, you offer a spear and shield sized for the new Duchess Larissa of the Cobalt Scales wrought of Imperial Steel. The court will not have long to accustom itself to her presence, though. Her lands and her people need her more than the demands of protocol ever could. Thankfully, she has already appointed a proxy, her son and heir, you suspect at least in part so that she can be sure that he will be safe from enemy should the battle go ill.

Over the next several days such sub-chiefs and clan heads as can make the journey to the Deep, generally those under siege in the capital, also make their vows, not their bows to the throne, because salamander custom one only lowers one's head when one is about to lunge to bite, a fact which for some reason becomes the quintessential sign of how alien they are... and in some circles how barbarous. Garin counsels that you look into that sooner rather than later, and you find yourself in full agreement with the point. Still in other quarters the Prince is received graciously indeed, with Zherys being the first to formally welcome him to the Curia... and to his faction. One can never fault the Archon of Volantis for the sin of tardiness.

It is only a few days after that that you discover that another power in Volantis and elsewhere had come to see your new subjects in a fair light, the Red Faith. Already there are inquiries from Flame Keepers across the realm for how they might send aid and missionaries. For once you do not have much of a twinge about the latter. The Lord of Light is not unknown among the clans who, unlike their genie neighbors, do worship the gods, if not as much as mortal men.

When Marshal Vaerios Ghad asks that he be given any Legion command in the defense of your new citizens, you are understanding, but truth be told you are not even certain if you can afford to deploy the Legions to a realm that is so fundamentally hostile to all human life. This you suspect shall be a war fought mostly by the forge-wrought, a war of the Imperium, but not necessarily a war of men. Already darkenbeasts and dragon-turtles, their shells inscribed with runes of ash and molten steel, are making their way to the battle, yet even that scaled might shall be but one more drop in the deluge that must be brought forth if you are to turn the fortunes of this war.

Gained Allegiance of the Cobalt Scales Clan (Major Salamander Clan) Ducal Rank awarded

What do you do next?

[] Find out more about your new citizens
-[] Write in questions

[] Move on with the turn

OOC: I thought about voting on what rank you guys would be granting but at the end of the day there wasn't much question. even as weakened as they have been the Salamanders have more wealth and potential economic muscle than many of the dukes you already have.

 

[DragonParadox]

Report on the Cobalt Scales ​

by Tyene Sandviper​

You do not start with the easy questions, do you? How many are there?

Well the way most of them would answer that would be something like asking 'how many spear-fish are there in the sea? That is how many we are.' Very impressive no doubt, but it rather lacks in the mathematical rigor that so many clerks and bankers seem to love. Sadly our best guess is not much better, borders being more suggestions than rules out there and the various sub-clans villages and what have you have ever had reason to lie in either direction depending on what they are trying to get. So take this with enough salt to season an old boot, but we are looking at hundreds of thousands of new citizens, including the young, old, free and slaves, everyone who might be counted to be under the Duchess' authority.

As to who bears arms and who does not? Well every single salamander is armed with fangs and claws that will kill an armored knight dead and the heat of their bodies travels down any weapon they might bear, and they all bear weapons or tools that could serve the purpose in a pinch. You would be hard-pressed to find anyone, even a ditch digger or the fellow who makes sure the crops are oiled and silt, that does not know how to fight with some measure of skill even if it is just left over from when they were in the hatchery. Everyone is expected to take up arms in defense of clan and hold.

In terms of the law, firstly they have slaves, but I do not think their economy will collapse without them, at least not any worse than it is doing over losing a war. While slave traders are commonplace, selling to the other powers of the Sea of Fire and once as far as the City of Brass and even the realms of the Shaitan, there is something of a cultural stigma to 'living off the backs of slaves like a Pasha' in other professions. Slaves are thought of as untrustworthy and those who rely on them too much are counted as fools. Spontaneous slave uprisings and rebellions are a lot less likely than in parts of Essos we already untangled.

The second thing I noticed, which we all want to be careful about, are the knushias. The word just means meeting or assembly like in Formal Iggan, in this case a meeting of elders and leaders, the wealthy and the well-connected at any given level, then they send representatives to the Knu-knushias, that is the big meetings. They will take well to the Voices, but less well to judges appointed from above since in their traditions one is judged not by the chieftain, but by a gathering of your peers, the assemblies.

In terms of influence they still have some with the other rebel clans, though it is sort of guttering out what with the losses in battle and bending the knee is not going to help them much with their prestige. The Hunters of the Last Light recruit widely so they have some former Cobalt Scales in their ranks, influence peddling going both always. As for rivals, they all took up the brass banner so there isn't much reason to pick the threads apart. Spite at seeing the bastards fall was probably a good bit of the reason they were willing to go so far as to swear fealty to the Imperium in the first place.

As for evacuating the capital, everyone who could be spared and was willing to leave has left and they would take the offer to leave their islands entirely about as well as a Dornishman might, and not one of us easy-to-please Sand Dornish, a stone Dornish with his own precious hill that his ancestors polished like it was the family jewels.

OOC: I'm going to leave this without a vote so you guys can brainstorm freely, there really is not much more you can decide on right this moment, stuff will come out in actions next turn.

 

[DragonParadox]

Ministerial Matters ​

Third Day of the Twelfth Month 294 AC

The strangest part about having tea with a devil Menel Goldentooth realized was not the slitted gaze that shone the color of old gold like a lost coin from the bottom of a well, and it was not the shiver that went down his spine whenever pale clawed hands moved a little too quick. Rather it was the odd realization that the devil, this devil swathed in the dark crimson robes of ministerial power, had a sweet tooth. Devils were supposed to have a taste for blood and tears, not fine white cane sugar. Of course there were probably quite a few citizens who would rather pay Izku in mere blood, preferably someone else's blood, than the coin his ministry asked for...

"How goes the saga of the protocol taxes, Your Excellency?" the Minister of Trade asked lightly. "Have the reputable lords of the west found more arguments, or better legal counsel?"

"More arguments, yes," Izku laughed darkly. "The way a blind monkey unable to climb trees will stumble over many pieces of rotten fruit to present one. It is quite astonishing when one thinks about it how much the dignity of their ancient lines is worth when one brings out the scales."

He was not, Menel knew, making a jest about the nobility of Westeros being worthless. 'Protocol taxes' were an idea House Dayne had stumbled over in an effort to make up for the fact that local tax actually had to show some good to the citizens paying them and not just to the coffers of their lord. The reasoning went that if one's lord could not represent their subjects with honor, why then all would suffer from the loss of trade, the loss of opportunity, the loss of consideration... and part of that honor was the show of wealth.

House Dayne had made its case and had proven it, spawning a whole slew of imitators who thought they would only have to show that they lacked this or that feather in their hat to be able to lay arbitrary local taxes. Of course things were not so easy. Andrew Dayne had actually shown the way in which his particular tax had been put towards the public good, had shown deals with trade magnates for good rates and contracts with the Orphne Fey. Most of the other Houses who simply wanted rather than needed an extra revenue stream had been doing far more poorly. Trotting out one's poor relations before a magistrate to try and make the point about the destitution of one's House had turned a few Westerlander families, chief among them the Westerlings of the Crag, into the butt of japes from Pyke to King's Landing.

A cup clicked on its place. "I did not come here only to hear tales of entertaining failures, Your Excellence," the Minister of Trade interjected after the most recent anecdote wound down. "What do you think of a forest tax? That is to say, a local tax on the use of dead wood and lumber that is to be levied in place of the old duties and whose proceeds are to go into maintaining the health of the woods? Duke Redwyne has approached me with the notion in principle on behalf of some of his vassals."

"Of course," Izku's tone was dry as one imagined the parched heart of Hell to be. Most proposals from that quarter came in that form so that something rejected out of hand would not reflect upon the high lords themselves. "Well in principle I see no issue with it so long as a reasonable portion of those funds actually goes towards the stated purpose."

It was something of a sore point with him that trusted auditors who were accustomed to the ways of the Sunset Lands were yet scarce on the ground and he could not justify looking into minor-to-middling graft. It was not that Izku thought he could do away with all graft and corruption, but he preferred to prune it closer to the ground than it currently grew.

"I suspect there are going to be quite a few development loans taken with forestry in mind," Menel explained. "It makes for an easier sell than crop diversification and you can just leave the trees to grow with far less tending, at least so long as the local fey are happy..."

"Abiding by the law of the land does not require happiness," the devil noted absently. "All fey sworn to the throne are to be mindful of the interests of their mortal neighbors."

"As you say," Menel nodded, though he knew enough of the cunning of the spirit-kin to be quite sure that most lords would be better served not counting solely on the royal oath to get the aid they might need. "Have you had any thoughts on the inclusion of banks in the new business three year tax break? They do not produce any novel goods, but it is a novel service..."

"What they produce is the opportunity for fraud on a yet uneducated populace," Izku countered. "All well and good to entourage growth, but not at the cost of much of that growth being poisonous weeds."

Financial Assistance 30 (Success)

Do you encourage or discourage the formation of new local banks in Westeros?

[] Encourage, more local creditors means more growth for those who would otherwise struggle to get a loan

[] Discourage, scams or even simply failed banks could harm public confidence far more than they help

OOC: Sorry this took so long, the subject matter is rather dry, hopefully the discussion format helped make it interesting and pulled double duty for some characterization for the Ministers.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of Ravens and Pigs ​

Fifth Day of the Twelfth Month 294 AC

The ravens came slowly, first in ones and twos, then threes, fours and fives. Letters clinging onto letters, angry or apologetic, at times even half and half. Proud lords of the Riverlands did not grovel to clerks who still bore the humble names of their fathers. Of course, there were no Riverlands these days and not even the most stiff necked wool-witted fool of a knight would deny that Lorenso Cobbler held real power in his hands, in the tip of his gilded stylus, and so they asked for aid... about two months too late.

Now now Lorenso, they have been talking about brigands, vagabonds and trespass onto their lands for all that time, it is just that you have been ignoring it because it came out of the back end of a mule. The governor held his tongue between his teeth, the gesture almost but not quite painful. The local aristocracy complaining about movements of population was not unknown to him. When he had worked in the Office on Land in Tyrosh it was basically one step removed from magisters asking you to put the local freedmen back in chains so they will work the fields, so he had to send answers, conciliatory or confrontational, all of them empty, and he had waited for the first flurry of moves off the lands to die down. It would be likely much lighter here than in Essos regardless.

It did not die down.

It was only when a man with a pig came to see him, insisting that he show off the pig, that he realized what was rooting around under the surface. Ha ha, you should have been a mummer. Alas, the inner voice that sounded distressingly like his late father did not get any quieter away from Braavos.

The shift from traditional rights to the use of the forest for pig grazing, or whatever it was called, to paying tax to use those same woods had struck the local swineherds quite badly, leaving them to go off in search of greener pastures, or perhaps muddier ones. The trouble was that the idea of tended forests that would make a profit off rare woods was catching, and particularly popular in the region.

The troubles had come to a head when old Count Piper had been the last one to proclaim his woods closed to swine and dead wood collectors. 'The fey would do the job of warding away fire better,' he claimed and perhaps he was right, but that did not do much for the fire of burgeoning rebellion in the hearts of the small army of angry smallfolk, mostly pig and goat herders, who found themselves without recourse or sanctuary not far from Pinkmaiden.

Thankfully things had not degenerated into violence. Their leader, the aforementioned man with a pig named Chops, because of course he was, Westerosi mothers bearing some ill-defined malice to their offspring in Lorenso's opinion, explained that he was sure the Imperator would see them granted their old rights back in spite of the greedy lords.

"Like ticks on a sow they are, milord," the man finished his tale in the least welcome exercise of recontextualization in Lorenso's career. The lords had not done anything wrong, but there were thousands of people camped outside Pinkmaiden Keep alone and they were but the tip of the spear. There were likely far more people wandering the Gold Road even now and they were turning desperate. The lords might have their vagabonds and brigands too if something was not done.

Local Taxes

1. Golden Mountains: 58 (Success)
2. Greyport: 87 (Success)
3. Midlands: 81 (Success)
4. Hearthlands: 13 (Failure)

What do you do about the herders and others driven off the land as the forests are being turned to growing rare wood?

[] Direct them to King's Landing, with the improved infrastructure it should be able to hold them safely

[] Send them south into the rich Mandervale, the Tyrells will complain but they are politically isolated

[] Bid them go west into Red Lake and Greyport, the leadership of the provinces will not complain, though given unrest in the area the population might

[] Write in

OOC: This one flowed a lot easier than the previous update. Hope you guys enjoy.

 

[DragonParadox]

Choosing a Side ​

Fifth Day of the Twelfth Month 294 AC

You find yourself in the Red Keep again in the company of governor's inspectors and even commissars. In some ways the choice you make today is obvious, King's Landing is the end of the Gold Road and it is where a lot of the displaced folk are traveling to in the first place. It should not be too hard to make sure most of them reach the end safely and do not stray, but everyone here knows their history, knows how King's Landing grew into the noisome morbid state you had found it in. It had been the gathering of too many people and not enough space, not enough water, not enough access to simple sewage that had set the cesspool of Flea Bottom bubbling... and those people had come from the Riverlands during the Dance.

Of course this is not a time of war, nor is the city without aid or care from the wider realm, you had already approved some funds to erect new houses and apartments, but it is still going to take some time for the newcomers to settle in and the sad fact of the matter is that King's Landing is not Sorcerer's Deep, there are nowhere near as many opportunities as for work free of the strictures of the guilds here.

In the end it is the usually quiet Shad Ibn Mal who comes up with the best short term solution to get these people working and earning a living wage while they get on their feet, tear down the walls of the city, built to fight a sort of war that is as dead as the last king and use the space to help the city expand.

Thankfully there is no trouble in the hinterlands around the former capital with lords of the southern and northern Crownlands having the wisdom to improve their lands without turning too many people out.

Local Taxes

• Northern Crownlands: 89 (Success)
• Southern Crownlands: 63 (Success)

***​

Unfortunately you do not have long to keep your eyes on matters in King's Landing owing to other subtler troubles, specifically from the Inquisition as it attempts to expand its reach into rural areas and the keeps of lesser lords, to gain control over the important centers of production and the agricultural heartlands of Westeros. There is for once no blood spilled and no threats of violence even made, no scandals in the papers, but there is trouble brewing on the horizon just the same.

"The narrower the stage and the more the audience knows the mummers the easier it is to trip," Garin puts it rather succinctly that night at dinner, a private affair for family and friends. "I have been seeing report after report of newly inserted agents getting tripped up, getting found out, particularly when dealing with communities that are socially if not economically isolated. There have been cases where the local lords reacted poorly, like in the Shield Islands, but mostly the matter was swept out of sight before much could be made of it, only... "

"Only we are leaning on the traditional levers of power again and if the lord has to smooth things over the Inquisition cannot help to enforce Imperial Law," you finish. Leaning back in your seat you ask. "So what do you think the trouble is? Difference in culture? Language? Religion?"

"In a way I think it might be all of them and neither," your friend replies. "There is a difference in social structure that makes it harder for something as impersonal as the Inquisition to function as it does in parts of Essos, once it is operating openly at least. The aristocracy of Westeros and their immediate retainers value their honor, or at least the perception of their honor, more than we are used to. There is this impression that the personal connection, looking into one's eyes and shaking his hand is more valuable, more real than well..." he smiles. "'The dragon coiled on his throne of steel', as they say."

More flattering than what those same people thought of you a year ago for certain. Taking another sip of your wine you listen as he continues.

"It is not that we are not finding recruits, there are more than enough incentives to get people to talk, it is that we are not finding trustworthy recruits, which of course compounds the trouble." At your nod he adds. "I think we need to change how the book and sword is perceived. One or the other as it were. We can either present the Inquisition as principally heroes against external foes who aught to be trusted for their valor and sacrifice, or as bearers of the book, mostly harmless eyes and ears, people to help with the fiddly bits, you know, sort of like the maesters."

"Because they turned out to be so very harmless," you laugh. Still, he makes a good point about social norms and how the Inquisition straddles them

Impose Imperial Law: Centers of Production 18 (Failure)

The reputation of the Inquisition has taken a hit in many parts of Westeros, particularly south of the Neck

What should the Inquisition present as?

[] Sword before Book: Noble protectors of the realm

[] Book before Sword: Humble servants of the realm

[] Keep things as is, the citizens of the Western Provinces will have to get used the seeming paradox

[] Write in

OOC: This is only a regular fail so nothing exploded, but it did reveal a bit of brewing trouble in public perception.

 

[DragonParadox]

East of West ​

Fifth Day of the Twelfth Month 294 AC

In many ways the shores of the Narrow Sea made for the most fertile soil in which to place the ideas and institutions of the Imperium. Here mercantile traditions were common, if not in all places favored by the lords of the land, and it was not uncommon to see visitors from abroad. That it was also a hotbed of loyalty for the Imperial House of course did not hurt. A great many of those who had left the coast in search of a new life in Sorcerer's Deep when it was yet a place unknown and shrouded in peril were now returning with an imperial education, or at the very least with the experience of the capital. They also brought with them savings to match what was by all accounts the richest city in the realm when divided per capita, as the Ministry of Trade and Taxation both assessed such things, to the surprise of some lords and the thoughtful consideration of others.

That was not to say there was no trouble to be hand. Indeed the largest diabolic coven yet found in Westeros after the pacification held its dark rites not five leagues from High Tide, in what might have been a rather embarrassing discovery for the Steward of the Imperial Lands.

Parion Dyodrys ensured that they were seen off into the embrace of the Ferryman without the fanfare or public scrutiny they clearly craved. 'She bears the chains of the Beast and He shall devour her!' one of them had shouted at the judge in the middle of their deposition. Apparently that meant Valaena Velaryon, who bore a reforged devil's chain.

More troubling was the fact that the cult did not know who they truly served, and not just in the usual manner of madmen hooking fools and pulling them over the edge of reason and sanity. None of them knew and all thought they served the Father, though even cursory examination of the arcane paraphernalia present at the site indicated the worship of the Lord of the Third, apparently the 'Father of Greed' among many of his titles. A baatezu cult based primarily upon the fear that the Imperator was himself some sort of devil or pawn of Hell was enough to give Parion a headache, but then that was why he was not a wizard.... well that and the fact that he was terrified of the sight of his own blood.

Things had not gone quite so well at the mouth of the Salmonwater where it was soon evident that the nobles of the Vale were not the only ones inflicted with stiff necks, and nor were the common folk the only ones suffering the self-inflicted wounds of superstition. They had apparently contrived a suspicion of the triton-folk and of the Merling King all at once, which had only been set to rest with long and draw out mediation which slowed the process of setting the guild bylaws in accordance with Imperial Law to an almost unbearable crawl.

'Almost is not the gleam of a dragon's eye', as they said in Tolos, and all was well that ended in budget and on time, though the minister suspected that the guilds drive to seek a form of 'personhood' under the law which would end in all sorts of legal tangles.

Bring Imperial Law to the Western Provinces:
Driftmark: 84 (Success)
Dragonstone: 87 (Success)
Salmonwater: 34 (Success)

OOC: Previous vote is still open, this is just the chance to see some more of the background stuff that is happening in the Imperium.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of Misplaced Magic ​

Fifth Day of the Twelfth Month 294 AC

For a long moment there was silence in the chamber, thoughtful as it was companionable. Viserys was nothing if not thorough in considering his options, Garin knew, and this was rather a large one he had strung over cinnamon soup, impacting as it did the functioning of the Inquisition over almost half the realm. "I think we should leave things as is," he said at last. "There will be misunderstandings I do not doubt and offense will be taken, but better that the lords and citizens alike grow accustomed to the ways of the Inquisition than for it play games of stagecraft. All it would take is one drawing of the curtain at the wrong moment and we would be far worse off, not to mention that perception impacts identity. The least thing the Imperium needs is a cultural cleavage inside the Inquisition."

The High Inquisitor nodded, acknowledging the point as much as the command, but he added also. "There are going to be incidents, public ones as time goes on. We cannot count on always stamping out the fire before the smoke shows."

"The realm is strong enough to withstand a bit of friction for the sake of the Inquisition doing its job," Viserys' words were confident and rightly so from what Garin had seen. For a state so new to the world the Imperium was set upon foundations of stone, but still its walls were as wood and friction could make sparks.

Modifier Skewed Perceptions added to Inquisition actions: -5 to all actions taking place in Westeros

***​

Alas the day was not done with its downpour of poor reports and unwelcome news, though at least this one did not originate with any trouble with the Inquisition, it was simply that the local commissar had heard the news first and carried it furthest. It had all started with a simple criminal case. A petty Riverlander noble Ser Karl Barliman had been appointed steward of Baron Condon who was...

Garin shuffled through the papers to make sure he was not mixing up his nobles and their ranks, they were as touchy as the Volantenes about it.

One of the principal vassals of Count Cerwyn, himself a vassal of the Starks of Winterfell. By all accounts this Barliman fellow had promised that he would revolutionize irrigation, the better to take advantage of the new harvest rituals and foreign grain types, but the results had not been nearly as remarkable as the baron had expected and he had not been inclined to listen to any excuses about poor soil quality and the time it would take to fix it. Thus the lord had gotten it into his head that he was robbed and, being the local dispenser to justice that he was, tossed Barliman into the dungeons awaiting trial.

To his seeming good fortune House Condon had the services of a leshy magician, one who could weave simple truth finding spells, and the lord being a direct sort of fellow made use of these magics as the only source of evidence in the trial, for after all what more would be needed than the blessing of the Old Gods?

When he reached that part of the report Garin practically winced in his seat. It did not take a genius to realize what was coming.

The accused resisted the spell on the grounds that he was innocent and would accept any 'witchery'. When the leshy reported that the man had denied the spell the already incensed baron had taken that as a sign that he was adding blasphemy to trickery and theft, declared him guilty and had him hanged.

Ser Karl had not been guilty, though if that had been the end of it perhaps it could have been smoothed over without coming out into the public eye, but he had actually managed to smuggle out a letter to Duke Manderly who had among his many titles the Defender of the Faith and took it seriously when it came to the North. In this letter the doomed Ser Karl passionately defended his right to be judged based on evidence fairly gained and not the work of spirits and the weaving of spells, that he would not have to bare the inner sanctum of his mind to preserve his life.

Manderly was already flying to the capital and according to his valet, who had been an Inquisition source for the past three months, he was utterly furious not only at Baron Condon, but at the wide latitude of judges to command truth spells and interpret the results. He apparently intended to make a proposal in the Curia that one could opt out of the use of any magics on religious grounds so long as one was a member of a recognized religion.

Aid in Imposing Imperial Law Centers of Production (Ministry of Magic): 29 - 10 (Failed accompanying Inquisition action) = 19 (Failure)

What do you do?

[] Speak to duke Manderly about his proposal before he takes it to the floor
-[] Write in

[] Address the matter once it reaches the floor of the Curia
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: Not the worst place you could have had a fail, still a bit of a pickle for you judicially since the fact that the offending spell was cast by a leshy is going to make this a bit of a religiously charged question as well.

 

[DragonParadox]

Inquisitor's Guide to Gremlins ​

Skills and Uses
Dawkin Gremlins share the ability to take on the guise of urchins with the rest of their Erinat kin and they play that part with unmatched skill. They come by the skill honestly, most of them prefer to live on the streets where they flock together with orphans runaways and other down on their luck folk. Often they become minor leaders or at least remarkable figures in these narrow underworld groups on the edge of society. If you notice a group of thugs of pickpockets giving undue deference to what seems to be a child odds are you have found an Erinat gremlin and you should look into matters at your local Scholarum. Registering as magic users is often the only bow to Imperial law an Erinat will make in their day to day lives as they want little from the fruits of civilization that they cannot unearth among our leavings or else pilfer from the careless.

Motivation
Being quiet and nimble fingered as well as possessed of a nose for trouble that is almost an arcane talent of its own these clever fey will often be entangled in local feuds or attempts to 'bring justice' to some greedy, corrupt or simply unlikable character. As they are more or less bound to Imperial law by contract of their entire troupe it is rare for such conflicts to ever escalate beyond misdemeanors though there have been instances where an Erinat's relentless interest in their targets have revealed genuine lawbreaking on the part of the latter. Always keep in mind that even these fickle spirits are fey and they cannot explicitly lie.

They love secrets to know and not to tell so you may be content sharing more with an Erinat which is sworn to secrecy than their sly manner usually implies. They love magic also, particularly tricks of glamor and enchantment which complement their worn skills and will work far more willingly for the promise an an interesting trinket than for marks or even favor though of all crown-bound fey to owe a favor to an Erinat is least likely to be left hanging over one's head if you must go that way.

In the Field
In most ways they make the ideal spy, easy to overlook and very sharp to eye and ear themselves. As their child guise is not glamor but true transformation a suspicious mind and a strong will is not enough to unveil them and even for those with a skill for magic picking out the subtle aura of their transformation is no easy task. The most unique effects of their magic is a primal aura of gullibility which cannot be resisted or deflected, only suppressed by powerful sorcery. This mantle they bear with them at all times... including when they are talking with you so beware.

Though temping one should not make use of any breed of gremlins in long, monotonous tasks like stake outs, they will generally try to spice things up when boredom overcomes them and their spice of choice is pure chaos. Generally one should rather make use of the gremlin's contacts and allies to gather simple background information and only use them in situations they find 'interesting'. The promise of a unique reward can make it more likely for them to bear the boring parts of an investigation, this can be a trophy, fame by commendation, newspaper article or mirror show or even a fight unlike any they have ever been in.

In Battle
From the above one can deduce that sooner of later any Erinat in the service of the inquisition will find themselves in trouble they cannot sweettalk or outrun. Yet for all their seeming frailty these are still fey blessed with the hardiness of another world. common steel in common hands is more likely to amuse an Erinat than frighten them and even a trained warrior wielding weapons of war would struggle to slay one before they slip away. Their weakness is generally magic, particularly that which affects the mind for they are flighty in temperament and easily lead astray when their native magic does not defeat the spell. Their small size also leaves them open to being grasped and trapped, though most of their kindred will have some magical or alchemical trick to get out of a bind of that sort.

That leaves us to the last part of their major abilities, an instinctive knack for using enchanted objects, to any trained mage this looks at first to be blind luck and guesswork, though it works entirely too often to be either. In spite of this it is generally a good idea to be out of the firing arc of a gremlin's wand.

OOC: I might do more of these in the future if you guys are interested. Not yet edited.

 

[DragonParadox]

Faith in Law​

Fifth Day of the Twelfth Month 294 AC

There is little of the hushed solemnity of those opening sessions left in the Curia, you note. As the the echoes of the herald's proclamations fade into the cool air, the hall is filled with the chatter of lords and magisters, merchants and guild leaders, governors and generals. It is respectful chatter, of course, and many eyes are turned to the throne as you take it once more to bring the session to order, but there is little of the hesitancy, almost the fear which had marked the first few weeks of the institution. A public forum, just as you had wished it to be.

One can pick out the factions at a glance from those loyal to the North or to the Old Gods, out in force, forewarned you suspect by Bloodraven, those who look to Braavos or Volantis, those who peer beyond the western sea. There are some, of course, who have not made any pledge nor joined with any faction, be it because they feel they shall be better served reserving their vote and influence on a case by case basis, as Bronze Yohn is doing, or as in the case of Mace Tyrell, no one wants to be too closely aligned with him due to the perception of Imperial displeasure. Truth be told, it is more than just a perception but you have no intention of doing anything about the periodic gusts of hot air blowing from the bench. If that is what passes for internal opposition, then all the more reason to be loyal.

In truth, your eye wanders more to the benches that hold those faithful to the Red God, like Moqorro of Volantis. They might well see in the tragic case of Ser Karl an opportunity to win privileges for their own faith. Even with new voices slowly trickling in from Westeros, there is still a large religious contingent, primarily of R'hllorists, in the Curia Vocium and while you do not suspect religion to be the primary moving force for most of them, you can imagine a world where they would align behind it to gain votes of their own from their constituents.

You can practically hear Malarys grumbling in the back of your mind about 'government by mob'. You swallow a smile that might seem strange under the circumstances and call the call to order, giving the old Duke of White Harbor the chance to say his peace. That is the purpose of this hall, after all.

"Your Majesty, Honorable Ministers, gracious colleagues, I come here today to share dark news from the North, to ask for restitution in the name of an innocent man who no longer has a voice with which to speak his case. More than that, I come to you in the hopes of learning from this grim moment and proposing a fairer law to the throne that such injustice shall never again take place..."

Thanks to the report of his valet on Garin's desk, you know the tale is he about to tell and you know the arguments he is about to make. He is a surprisingly good speaker and the words 'violation of conscience' seem designed to fill the front page of a newspaper, but that is not what most catches your eye. Rather, it is the expression of Lord Stark sitting not far away from the furious lord of White Harbor. You had expected approval perhaps for a change that billed itself as 'more just' or some measure of guilt that the miscarriage of justice was done in lands so near to Wintefell itself. Instead, you read there what you had before but glimpsed in flashes, political calculation. He knows the proposal, however impassioned, is doomed and he wants no part of it. Had he tried to talk the Lord of White Harbor out of bringing the matter to the Curia at all? you wonder.

For a moment the Duke of Winterfell and the Duke of the Dreadfort lock gazes, not in disagreement but mutual understanding. Even your ears almost fail to catch the sigh that passes Eddard Stark's lips when he tilts his head in the smallest of nods, met by a fleeting shallow smile from Roose Bolton, like ice flashing at the surface of a pond. There must have been some disagreement about how the Eithur Fulka would approach the matter...

And then just as Bloton rises to speak, it hits you, no gods and no magics had warned Bolton and the other Northern lords. Manderly had confided in Stark and he had told the others.

"We who keep to the Old Gods and the ways of the North condemn the acts of Baron Condon. They are unjust and unworthy, and there must be restitution for them, yet that does not mean we shall allow this moment to be used in the efforts of the Faith to regain a privileged role it has so often abused in the past. It is preposterous to propose that members of any given faith should be able to evade legal proceedings. Who then is to have the right to judge them? The High Septon?" Another man might have scoffed then, but the pale lord of the Dreadfort simply lets the silence grow until it has become heavy and uncomfortable before continuing, "It does follow logically for all the protestations about individual freedom of the mind and soul. If such dispensations are to be given on religious grounds, then they may be withdrawn at the will of the leader of the religion in question." He turns to Lord Manderly. "Or would the accused in that instance be given leave to choose a new faith that he might name that as reason to deny... 'witchery'?"

Duke Umber laughs like it is a feasthall on his sixth tankard of ale, not that you think anyone is surprised. Raymum Darry looks as offended as you have ever seen the man.

At your unspoken command, the Herald slams its ceremonial staff into the floor and you again command the attention of the hall. "We have heard enough." You pause and look around the chamber to see which members of the Curia might jump in to support Manderly besides Darry. You do not find anyone quite so eager, but there are certainly a few.

"We have no intention of allowing anyone in a criminal case to willfully avoid truth finding spells, though that does not mean such spells can be used to unfairly invade one's privacy. When sorcery is utilized in this manner during a trial or during the investigation into a crime preceding a trial, the questions will be strictly limited to discovering the subject's guilt or innocence in relation to the crime or crimes being investigated and nothing more. Any attempt to deviate from these guidelines will result in ruinous fines, dismissal from service, and subsequent blacklisting throughout the Imperium."

"And what then is to be Baron Condon's fate, who is a judge and more than a judge?" the Duke of White Harbor asks.

What do you reply?

[] A steep fine (will be seen as a slap on the wrist/business as usual)

[] Forced to abdicate in favor of his son (seen as fair but likely to trouble lords as it is meddling in internal House business for something other than treason)

[] Write in

OOC: I ended up using @Goldfish since it had an almost identical vote making it 8 to 7. I hope you guys do not mind.

 

[DragonParadox]

In Even Measure ​

Fifth Day of the Twelfth Month 294 AC

From the height of the throne Baron Myles Condon looks small indeed, his shoulders hunched, his eyes cast low as he awaits judgement by the throne. He had at least the wit to throw himself upon the mercy of the court and Curia rather than try to defend indefensible actions. Yet this one grey-haired man garbed in a woolen cloak of like hue may yet move the policies and perceptions of far greater houses.

"Myles Condon, Baron of Red Ridge, I find that your conduct was unfitting of a judge invested with the powers of Imperial justice." You do not say high and low justice as you had done before, lexical precision is called for in this instance. Imperial justice is that which binds the baron and his bannermen in equal measure, that which guaranteed by your seal and your pledge. "For the crime you have committed, misusing the tools entrusted to you, you are to be stripped of your position as judge."

You pause just long enough for the words to sink in and for some to wonder if this would be the full judgement. "Yet your position of magistrate is not born of any external source or delegated title, that power is born of your title as baron and it is that title and that responsibility you failed as surely as you failed the crown. For this crime you are to be stripped of the position of head of the House, which your designated heir shall assume at once. Dismissed."

There is a part of you that wanted to add throwing him in prison for good measure, but that would have been stacking too much humiliation onto his kin. Lords had rebelled for lesser reasons and faced with odds just as impossible.

Instead, you glance around the hall. Many of the high lords and governors of the eastern provinces, seem very pleased indeed that the edge of the law was not blunted in this instance. By contrast there are various degrees of surprise and weariness to be seen in the eyes of most of the Dukes of the West, even Manderly himself, who had demanded a punishment. What it says about how he sees the law that he thought the case was worth ramming through general exceptions for religions, but not disinheriting the perpetrator, you are not sure you even want to know. Among the self-avowed Dragon's Men, there is less surprise and more grim acceptance, that to betray the trust of the crown in such a manner is 'as treason'. As for those who know you personally, be they lord or governor or marshal, well, there is far less surprise to be seen.

As the session is adjourned you seek out the mood of the lower chamber, for even your eye is not swift enough to read the faces of so many so swiftly. In many ways you find it much the same division with those of Essos applauding punishment for barbaric practices, though most interesting of all the dozen or so western Voices who had already taken their seats seem to scent a sea change... well, no not that exactly, the change had already taken place.

Much as it might sting your pride, it is better to say that now is the first time they actually believe that the promises are true and changes are real. Though this might have been one noble killing another, it could just as easily have been the death of a merchant or a guildsman. Indeed, in such instances it often is that. That recognition is worth a few ruffled feathers.

What do you want to see next?

[] The Bulwark of North

[] The Great Basin

[] Further improvements in permeable Force Effects

[] Weapons for the Dawn

[] Write in

OOC: This decision does not come with an obvious malus to rolls like the inquisition one since it is up to the perception of various people and especially lords. Curia politics do not get abstracted, but you can expect to hear more of this.