Turn 2 Results A: Hand of the Gods
As you begin to settle into more peaceful rulership of Letum, things begin to move like greased wheels all around...
~~~~~
"So, as you can see, Queen Megara, the tellers would like to know which Progenitor you swear to as soon as possible," says Gnostras, a sort of grandfatherly happiness infusing his expression. "Without the wicked hand of your father, the people are beginning to realize that you are a blessing to them."
You rub your chin thoughtfully. "What do the people want?" you decide to ask first. "I am of no mind on the matter, myself."
Nodding sagely, Gnostras begins to go over your options. "First, you could profess for the Stormcaller, though that probably isn't a good idea. The people have been superstitious, of late, and have taken to circulating rumors that the reason none could find your birth father is because he
is The Stormcaller. It is better not to give more fuel to the idle chatter, I think."
"Second, you could profess to The Thorned One. Your... decisive punishment of your father, and gossip of the small mercy given your brothers and sisters in not killing Atlas, have many people already believing that it is She who you profess to already, including some of my tellers. It would appease many people to have religious assurance of your sense of justice."
"Finally, there are a number of tellers, mostly those seeing portents in common occurrence, who would like you to declare yourself for the Kingmaker. They claim that your impossible rise to power is clearly a sign of favor, and that it is your place to repay that favor with adherence."
You sit back in your plush seat, resting your head in your hand. "This is quite a lot to take in, Gnostras," you muse. "I would ask, then; which is it you support?"
Your teller shakes his head, a wry look on his face. "I think that would be unfair to you, Majesty," he replies, dashing your hopes of an easy answer. "Purely for your own spiritual good, it is best to meditate on these things properly, and choose with your own soul to whom you owe fealty among the gods."
You will have to think on this.
~~~~~
A rider approaches the acropolis gates, bearing the colored banner of your Huntsmen forces. It has been a month since sending Sophocles and his soldiers against evil into the wider estate lands, and you have been awaiting word. You move to your throne room to receive the letters, and go over them personally, while the messenger kneels.
First week: Sent Gaia, Asp, and Sen to support the townships to the north and support tenant farmers. Partnered with Holon to determine the state of things in the Heartland Mine and the Queen's Forests.
Second week: Ousted infestation in the hills around the mine. Report from Sen that numerous dens were found and cleared in the northern hills.
Third week: Came across Ursa tracks. Hunted down and dispersed three packs that were forming around the Ursa. Gaia reports successful defense from a pack attacking Sokos village.
Fourth week: Found a large Creep network in mines. Used a large amount of fire and air dust to suffocate the tunnel network and clear the Creep infestation. Entrusted large, exotic black crystal found deep in the network to messenger. Seems inert, didn't react to the fire-bombing despite appraiser being sure it is Dust of some kind. Sample of refined Dust also enclosed.
You raise an eyebrow at the final passage, curious. You look to the messenger, who gingerly places his still-bulging pack on the ground before you, allowing Pantakon to examine the crystal Sophocles wrote about. "It is... I am unsure, Majesty," he finally offers as assessment, before fishing out the small vial of purified black dust that came with it.
You beckon him bring it closer. "Sophocles writes that the appraisers are sure it is some type of dust, though it does not react violently to flame or cutting," you explain, prompting Pantakon to hold the purified material
much farther from his body. "I wonder what kind it is?"
You take the vial of pure stuff for yourself, turning it gently, slowly, on it's side and watching as the Dust, glittering like fine onyx in the light, tumbles lightly about in the small container. You hand the vial off to an attendant, ordering it and the crystal stored in your personal vault for another time. You are too busy for such idle curiosity right now.
~~~~~
It has been months since Kalinas was taken off of her training duties and put to bedrest. At first, she did not wake except in delirium, needing to be force-fed and watered, so you made a point to keep a private vigil over her each evening, remaining at her side as she slept through the worst of her... injuries. When she came to her senses, her first act was to try to strangle you... only to realize that her left arm hung uselessly limp as you fought her atrophied, one-armed grip off.
She screamed and hollered at you, throwing anything she could reach until you left. She sulked for days, allowing none but her personal attendant to enter, and Medea. About a week after her revival, Medea came to you asking that Kalinas be allowed to visit with Atlas in his personal prison. "Anything," you told her, swallowing a lump in your throat. "If she asks for anything, give it to her."
Kalinas' visit with Atlas is short, and loud. The guards are conflicted as they explain the content of their exchange, Kalinas at first happy, Atlas at first seeming mortified. There were some whispered words, things deemed unimportant were exchanged and forgotten, when Atlas spat at your youngest sister in foolish anger, calling her a useless cripple. They do not explain any further, the conflict clearly personal and in no way a threat to you.
The next time you try to visit Kalinas, she allows you in the door, even if she glowers and remains silent through your empty babble.
~~~~~
Word of turmoil sweeps the continent nearing the end of the second month of the season, as gossip and news arrives of the largest Ingress-City on the borders of the Mistral Ruin, Ren Faire, being swallowed by tides of the ancient Ruins Grimm in the wake of a succession crisis. It is always a sorrowful day when The Reclaimers suffers setbacks like this, in both the loss of life and loss of priceless ancient technology and lost histories. It takes little time for Mistralan refugees to sail the Lantian Sea and traverse the Three Rivers in search of safe haven, more than a few finding their way to Letum.
It is in the midst of this wave of asylum-seekers that you are given the gift of the woman San-Do of Ren, a mysterious and martially talented refugee from the lost Ingress-City. Seeing an opportunity to allow the woman a place in your court as she displayed her letters of nobility, you took her in. "We would be honored to accept any who spent their lives seeking to reclaim the old kingdoms from the Grimm."
With her stay secured, you teased out what you could of her loyalties before offering her a position in your higher council. True to Mistralan culture, her low bow was one of respect for the offer. "Most gracious host," she said as levelly as she could, her Nikean a touch poor, though she's been improving quickly. "It would be an honor for this one to accept."
~~~~~
You've become something of a hit with the local tellers, who are scrambling to know which Progenitor you profess the greatest loyalty to.
[] Thorned One - Your keen sense for balance in just dealings has many hoping for you to declare to the patron of Justice, Hope, and Huntsmen.
[] Stormcaller - Your questionable parentage and the outlandish rumors of your counter-plot against Ciskophis have some hoping for you to declare for your...
birth... father, the patron of Love, Hedonism, and Cursed Circumstance.
[] Kingmaker - A faction believes you to be favored by the Kingmaker, as despite your bastard lineage and the thought-impossible obstacle of your father and family, you have emerged the victor, without so much as a single strike to mar you or the people you rule. This faction expects you to repay this favor by declaring yourself for the Patron of Learning, Wisdom, and Foresight.
[] None, for now - You can't be so hasty. You will declare when you are ready. (Automatically triggers Theology Focus next turn)
