One thing I've been thinking about the last few days; do we have canister shot for our cannons? If we don't, that could certainly be a worthwhile upgrade. It's conceptually similar enough to all the blunderbuss variants we've got lying around that I can certainly imagine our engineers coming up with it.
One thing I've been thinking about the last few days; do we have canister shot for our cannons? If we don't, that could certainly be a worthwhile upgrade. It's conceptually similar enough to all the blunderbuss variants we've got lying around that I can certainly imagine our engineers coming up with it.
I thought sending agents into other provinces had always been more of a way to see whats going on currently, not digging dirt on the leaders unless its specifically said so?
if we really wanted to do something nice however maybe after the meet or something we could send some money / merc`s to help out with containing the goblins and or killing of some beastmen?
what you mean us sending men into the middle mountain to claim it for our own?
how is us sending military aid or monetary aid in anyway the same at staking a claim on land he thought was his to claim??
or are you talking about how he got pissed about us helping adolf or the ludendorfs?
because i`m pretty sure he was adding bad info on poor judgments on too personal ambitions and coming up with "that guy freddy want to take over the north, he can not do that that is what i want to do"
also i`m talking about what we could do maybe unless something else come up durring the meet.
if he and the other 2 say they can handel it then fine we can focus on our own.
if not then hey the army is doing shit but the mercs might be free to do something.
i`m keeping options open if its needed not just saying lets not help them because gunthar might get pissed ?
we have not done that with 2 other so why start thinking like that now?
During the electors meet, one of his complaints with our proposed plan was that it made him look like he couldn't do his job-that he didn't need HELP to do his job, as it were.
He's an Ulrican through and through, and leans a little bit to the less-pleasant side of being an Ulrican.
Now, if there's a BIG threat on the horizon-say, if a piece of the bonelands waagh rolls ridiculously well and hijacks a beast-path directly into Gunthar's province...well, that's one thing. For his day to day running of the province and stomping down the usual levels of beastmen and orc presence?
Hah, everything I've seen about the man suggests he wouldn't appreciate that. Same with what we've seen in that one chapter where a bunch of beastmen or orcs was really near the boundary and went from one side to the other. Neither army crossed over the boundary but both were able to nod and begrudgingly respect the other.
SO, all in all: don't poke him. Sometimes, the best move is to DO NOTHING.
During the electors meet, one of his complaints with our proposed plan was that it made him look like he couldn't do his job-that he didn't need HELP to do his job, as it were.
SO, all in all: don't poke him. Sometimes, the best move is to DO NOTHING.
pretty sure that was him being pissed about us telling him we don`t think he can do the job.
like i said just thinking out loud for now. not pushing that we should do it.
just talking about things we could do if and when we feel its a good idea.
again rather wait for what does or does not come up durring the meet and the options here and after then start planning out things before hand.
but too the start of the talk about who to talk too i think only al-ulfric is a must anyone else is gravy.
i would love to have a talk with marrienburg to maybe get at least something semi positive maybe happening there.
might have a talk with the lady of wissenland because lots of reasons.
reikland might be an interesting talk to have with same with averland for you know reasons.
not sure we have something to talk with the emperor about at this time.
and unsure talking with anyone of the sigmar church would help much in any real way?
oh on a unrelated note been a while from last time we heard something from the witchhunters? might there be a reason for us to grow that group at some time?
Gunthar at his core want to be like his brother, he want to be the big damn hero. And he see Frederick as his "rival" ( and also i'm sure he want to be "him") so anything we do to help him, he will see it as an attack no matter what. Hell i'm not even sure he would take well help from Magnus, his own brother ! I say we keep an eye on the situation but we don't intervene at all unless something extreme happen ( like the Gruber affair, the WAAAGH of Gorebash and things like that)
thats because he is the spare that he can be a priest!
heirs > warrior / knight > leader / general > take over lordship if/when old lord dies
spare > priest/scholar whatever else. might do the same track as heir if father has something he might want to rule over later.
spare`s normally go into some kind of "job" that does not directly "threaten" the heir claim to rule.
i think succession right now is marcus > his son > his olders daughter > his brother > his brothers son`s > the younger brother? unless i am really miss remembering how that works?
Trait: Pragmatic - Honor has its place. But so too does pragmatism. This man may respect the former but if a solution presents itself he will not balk from the latter. (+1 Intrigue)
Trait: Nearly Nassau - Years of instruction from his wife Sabine has granted him a wealth of knowledge about non-Ostlander based diplomatic means, trading negotiations, and more. After all, one does not simply refuse the instruction of one's pregnant wife when they are determined to give it. (+2 Diplomacy, +1 Intrigue)
Trait: Quietly Fierce - She has never slain someone personally, but has seen and been exposed to tremendous violence, even if peripherally. She has become, abruptly, aware of her own fragility, and the greater scope of the Empire's vulnerability. Steps have been taken to ensure, now, that she will not simply go quietly into the night. The world is a dangerous place, and so she has striven to become a more dangerous person.
Trait: Half Hohenzollern - What began as a small request rapidly grew into a very comprehensive martial education with its foundation in the traditions and histories of the Von Raukov and Hohenzollern families of Ostland. A closeness with the family she has married is a more than welcome benefit. She may never be a great warrior, but diligence has its own rewards, and there is more to fighting than immediate personal capability. (+4 Martial)
Trait: Stubborn Strength - Repeated pregnancies have left her with a distaste for simply sitting around and ballooning around the hips and thighs...and everywhere else. As such, she works hard to ensure that she won't waste away, every day. (+2 Martial)
Trait: Without Hesitation - Hohenzollern spars require that one willingly shed the blood of family members and be able to accept one's own blood being shed in turn. The better for iron sharpening iron, and after years and years of this, this one has learned to overcome the shock and pause that others might suffer when first introduced to a fight to the death. (+1 Martial)
Trait: Piety Through Propriety - A close relationship with Serhild demanded that this one meet with and regularly interact with Arthur von Hohenzollern. The natural result, of course, is long hours of theological discussion and religious debate. For all that one might desire otherwise, it is hard to deny the Gods and their worth after years of such conversations. Then, of course, there are the stories of Karak Ungor and Sylvania that the Hohenzollerns could tell... (+3 Piety)
Trait: Knights Raven Trained – Experience only grows with time. While sparring against his brother, his father, his uncle Urgdug, these were all valuable, but more awaited him. Fighting alongside and training with the aggressive Knights Raven has only added to the arsenal. (+1 Martial, +1 Additional Martial Against Undead)
Trait: Well Worked Body – While he was not born as naturally strong as his brother Magnus, long conflict in grueling conditions accompanied by halfling meals has given him a bulked form, an improved musculature that is greatly useful in combat. (+2 Martial)
Trait: Dual Legacies of Death - The Von Raukov and the Hohenzollern are famously martial families, and she has the blood of one and the marriage into the other. As the years have gone on, she has grown into these legacies with aplomb, not least of which is because of how she got annoyed that her husband would spend so much time in the spars that she herself was not a part of. (+3 Martial)
Trait: Energetic - As the years have gone on, she has found that rather than slowing down, she has sped up. Much to the annoyance of many other people, and the enjoyment of many others. (+1 Martial)
Trait: A Snake's Friend - Serhild has become extremely close friends with Sabine, to the point that it has been remarked that the two act practically like sisters. This has, in turn, meant that on sheer osmosis alone, let alone the actual instruction given, that Serhild has gained quite the view into the way things work from a Nassau perspective. (+1 Diplomacy, +3 Intrigue)
Trait: Functioning Drunkard - She is her father's daughter, often guzzling ale and various other types of alcoholic drinks at a pace that would stagger most men and women. Long experience and stupendous developed tolerance has allowed her to act without notable detriment despite being drunk.
Trait: Long-Term Experience - Though not naturally talented in martial matters, long-term exposure to, sparring with, training alongside, and more to those who are had paid dividends. Years of being married to her husband, and sparring regularly with both him and their children, has formed muscle and ingrained forms that some might never manage. (+3 Martial)
GM NOTE: Well, I wanted to wait to post this until the update was ready too. But here we go.
Wulfenburg Castle - 2330 IC
Arthur was not the gentlest person to spar with. Then again, sparring in and of itself was not meant to be gentle. Serhild grunted as he heaved his larger blade against her, forged in similar fashion to the one he wielded normally but out of iron instead. Her shield, thankfully, did not do more than dent and scrape as she managed to strain and deflect the zweihänder. Her return stab was even more successful, piercing deep into his right pectoral, her reward a small spurt of crimson to drop onto the sparring yard's dust and stone. Her sweat soaked deep into her leathers and chainmail, the friction on her skin growing worse and worse. Despite her entire body feeling like it was leaden, her exhaustion beginning to peak, she refused to yield. It was not in her nature, either as a Raukov, or as a Freud. Nor was it in Arthur's to offer it until he was certain, as was his nature as a Hohenzollern.
Despite the fact that both of them had drawn blood from one another, cuts and tears, bruises forming from battering blows and more, there was still a small smile shared on both of their faces beneath their face-covering helms. The sun was high, their duties for the day had been finished earlier than expected, and they had the sparring yard to themselves. Only a sleepy Jade Wizard was their attendant aside from the expected handful of Greatswords. But by this point in her life, Serhild had grown used to them. They were simply part of the environment in Wulfenburg Castle. Like shiny, deadly statues. That moved occasionally. In any case, they knew well enough not to intervene by now.
"Come on then," she bit out while clanging the flat of her sword against the front of her shield. "Or are you scared?"
Arthur just snorted, ducking low and sweeping his lengthy sword forward at a speed that most would not expect from a man of his stature and physicality. But Serhild knew, and so surprised Arthur when she jumped forward, her legs tucking upwards just high enough to prevent the blade from catching her legs. Her shield lashed out, the edge smashing into his chest while the blade hacked into his shoulder until it hit bone. In response, her beloved husband leaned in and slammed the lip of his helmet into her upper chest hard enough to crack her collarbone somewhere or another despite the armor. The air was forced from her lungs and her armor clattered against the stone below as she was forced onto her back. Just as quickly, Arthur spun his blade upwards for a downward stab, but as it descended she knocked it aside with her shield and thrust upwards into his gut.
"My Prince, my lady," a Greatsword interrupted, the finely honed abilities of both combatants allowing them to cease instantly.
"Sir Bergundheim," Arthur sighed, ignoring the faint pain of his wife's blade piercing an inch into his stomach. "You are aware of the rules?"
Serhild propped herself up slightly with one of her arms, using the other to whip off her helm and reveal the raised eyebrow on her exertion-reddened face. She also twisted her torso so that the tip of the zweihänder was forced away from where it had carved a deep red trench into the side of her chest.
"We weren't done yet," she pointed out in a tone that was a touch too sweet.
Sir Bergundheim was a younger member of the Greatswords, and yet despite reaching such a lofty position found himself coughing uncertainly as two of his charges bled in front of him.
"Are you aware, Sir, of the amount of work it takes to keep up in the Hohenzollern family? Half of the blood that thunders in my veins is of the von Raukov," she continued, speaking faster and louder as she went. "The amount of additional sparring required, just to keep my skills sharp enough to remain in the middle of the pack?"
"Ah, yes, but…," he stammered out.
"Speak up man," Arthur said gently, his look far more understanding than that of his wife.
"The lady Sabine is here to see you," the soldier managed.
Both husband and wife blinked, glanced down to one another, and were on their feet and dusting themselves off a moment later. A gesture from Arthur brought the wizard over, their hands already glowing with healing magic. Weeping blood and scored bone mended, bruises fading back into natural coloration. Or as natural is it could be, with Arthur's greyed skin slick with sweat. They briefly examined one another before nodding and turning to the Greatsword.
"Well, bring her in then."
Neither Arthur nor Serhild knew, exactly, how to approach one such as Sabine. More traditional nobility of the Empire would perhaps balk at the sight of husband and wife beating each other bloody in the literal sense every few days. Serhild, certainly, had grown ever more protective over her husband, furious at those who dared to insult him for his skin color. There were still stories told amongst the servants of the witch hunter she'd ranted at for an entire hour when they had dared suggest something untoward about Arthur simply from communing with Morr too deeply. But Sabine was…different, from them. She had a cold brutality to her, in certain methods, they'd been told as such. But a dagger and whispered word was a different thing than, well, what the two of them had literally just been up to.
"Ah," Sabine gasped slightly at the sight of them when she came around the corner, hands held stiffly at the side.
Her dress was a beautiful thing, emerald and gold mixing like a warm summer day. Even her hair was put up in a rather fetching pattern. That, plus the jewelry and tasteful amount of make-up on her face made Serhild feel like she'd just wrestled with a pig and lost. The moment passed, however, as it always did. She could dress up as she pleased, and the uncertain look on Sabine's face was enough to wipe away any other negative feelings that might have cropped up. Magnus's wife looked at them and forced her shock off her face and replaced the small 'o' she'd made with her mouth into a smile. Her eyes still darted down to where fresh blood was still drying, but Serhild respected how quickly they slid over it and returned to maintaining eye contact. She'd still interrupted them, and her blood was up, but she still respected it.
"Well, I apologize to you both. I was unaware that you two were otherwise engaged. I can come back at another time."
"Well, wonderful, you can-," Serhild began, her exhalation almost explosive.
"It's fine," Arthur said calmly, a hand coming to clasp lightly on his wife's shoulder.
He may have been taller than her, but that did not stop him from spinning slightly on his heels as she whirled on him, his hand still connected to her shoulder.
"What are you doing? Our schedules barely lined up for this," she hissed quietly up at him.
Arthur weathered it easily, which both pleased and angered in her in equal amounts.
"She's new. She's uncertain. She's in unfamiliar territory," he replied in deep murmurs right next to her ear, his voice reverberating down her body.
Serhild squinted at him before rolling her eyes.
"Fine."
Both turned back to the still waiting Sabine, who had elected to clasp her hands together over her stomach.
"What can we do for you, good sister?" Serhild said calmly, the sharp beat of her heart slowing down as the energy of combat receded from her.
Sabine smiled at her, but it was a fragile thing.
"I was actually hoping to speak with you alone, just the two of us."
Serhild blinked, sharing an aside glance with Arthur.
"I…don't see why not," she said slowly, her lips twisting slightly. "Arthur, will you be all right off by yourself?"
He simply smiled warmly at her, nodding once.
"I'm sure I will be. I will meet with you this evening," he said softly, reaching down to pull her hand up to kiss at the knuckles.
As he turned away, however, he found himself spun once more by his wife, he scowled at her half-heartedly as she glared up at him.
"We aren't courting anymore, we're married," she sneered before reaching up and pulling his head down to kiss her deeply. "Now then," she bumped him with her still armored hip, "Away with you."
Shooing motions proved enough to send the wizard and Greatswords back enough steps to give them a semblance of privacy. It was getting later in the afternoon by now, and the Count would surely be out here within the hour to begin his second spar of the day with his wife and Magnus alike. Perhaps even Anna would participate, but Serhild wasn't holding her breath on that part. The woman had come back so terribly altered by her experiences in Karak Ungor…
"I know that we have only known each other for a very short amount of time, but I would ask a favor of you," Sabine said carefully, an odd mixture of warring pride and humility in her voice.
Serhild blinked and coughed.
"I…yes?"
Sabine inhaled deeply and glanced down at the blood on the ground, then back up at Serhild's face.
"I was wondering if you might give me…lessons."
Serhild squinted at her, then looked at the retreating back of her husband, then back to the Greatswords. Muttering a twinned prayer to Sigmar and Ulric she huffed and sheathed her sword, hand now free to rest on a cocked hip.
"Lessons," was the nonplussed reply.
Sabine gestured at herself with her delicate, callus-free hand.
"I am no fool," she began, steeling herself before continuing. "I am not…the most Ostlander of wives. It has been made apparent to me," she jerked her chin at Serhild herself, "That a regular shared martial pursuit is a welcome joining of time for partners in this province, far more than in certain circles of Talabecland. But…I know little other than archery, falconry, and hunting as leisure and religious activities."
The archery certainly caught some interest, but Serhild knew well enough that that was not what Sabine was asking for.
"Are you sure? It might change your…frame," Serhild ended awkwardly, flushing slightly as she did so.
The newest in-law to the Hohenzollern's merely nodded.
"I know. I am all right with that. I am not asking you to make me as fine a combatant as a soldier, but…something would be nice, that I could share with Magnus."
There was a hint of attraction there in those words, mixed with affection, but it was too soon to tell for certain if the real fruit had bloomed or not. Serhild, personally, was not holding out hope. Sure, the girl was trying to cross bridges, but how many would there be left between the heir of the province and his wife? Still. For all that one was of Talabecland, and the other of Ostland, Serhild knew well what it was like to suddenly be a part of an Elector Count's family. The change in stature, in freedoms as well as bindings, was quite a thing, and she had no one to rely on but Lady Natasha who had been preparing for the highest possible marriage since birth. It had to be worse for Sabine, to come from her own family which was nothing like how the Hohenzollerns had behaved for the last thirty years. Despite her own misgivings, she felt an annoying twinge of sympathy.
"Fine. We'll start easy," Serhild huffed, running a hand through her sweaty hair to release some of its cling. "No need for a sword and shield, we'll start with something you can always carry with you. How do you feel about knives?"
"I've stabbed someone before."
The answer came so quickly, and was said so simply, that it made Serhild pause and wonder if Arthur had slammed her ears a bit too hard in the spar.
"I'm sorry?"
"I've stabbed and slashed at someone before," Sabine said calmly, her eyes bright and determined. "Not often, but I've felt blood beneath my hands before. I may be but a woman, but my father believed that I should receive equal learning under Taal as well as Rhya."
"Huh."
There were too many eyes for this. Too many Greatswords about, too many ways for others to see as well. Yet Wulfenburg Castle was large, a stubborn edifice that had been built time and again by numerous Hohenzollerns over the past two thousand years. Serhild sighed and reached out, grasping the taller woman's smaller hand and began pulling her along. The greatswords began to follow, but thankfully at a respectful distance and therefore outside of immediate hearing range. Dozing once more, the wizard was roused and made to follow despite their audible grumbling. It was not as if the shift wasn't changing the moment the Count came, and they had been planning to go off and sleep somewhere else in the castle.
"Where are we going?"
"A place that I know. It's got plenty of cushions and padding, excess furniture and the like stored away. Me and Arthur found it years ago."
Behind her, accepting the pull and managing to keep up, Sabine made a rather funny sort of noise.
"Oh contain yourself," Serhild said over her shoulder. "The servants clean regularly."
============================================
Wulfenburg Castle - 2331 IC
"You should have seen his face!" Sabine squealed, practically doubled over as she laughed.
Serhild was no better. The storage room had changed greatly in the many months they'd spent together, the various mattresses that once covered the walls being worn down to the stone beneath after having bodies thrown into them so much, the stacks of crates and their contents shifted to the furthest corners. Which was a shame, because the scion of the second and third most powerful families in Ostland was slumped against one of said worn through mattresses, shaking from how hard she was laughing. She would have appreciated some soft down to keep her back from bruising, but all things considered the joke was worth it. As it was, she blinked through the tears enough to watch as Sabine deftly kept her short sword from going wild despite her near convulsions of laughter, its point utterly unmoving despite the undulations of its wielder.
Gone was the dress, the boots, the jewelry. Now, the Talabeclander was dressed in a similar outfit to Serhild's own personal choice. The thick studded leather and chainmail was more than enough, especially as Sabine simply was not ready for heavier armor. Besides, for their purposes, tumbles and falls, defensive fighting and attacking against a particularly aggressive opponent, it served finely. She was not inclined towards the shield, which was fine enough, especially given that Magnus von Hohenzollern used that massive hammer of his bereft of any shield of his own. He simply supplemented with that enormously heavy plate of his. They'd quickly moved beyond knife work, and now Sabine was fully comfortable with carrying her wedding gift from her sister-in-law Alexandra.
"My goodness, Sabine, you were a vicious little thing, weren't you," Serhild said with a smile at her friend. "But then, it sounds like he deserved it."
Sabine just bared her teeth at her in amusement.
"There are few in Talabecland that try to bring up the oldest history of the Nassau, but there are still some. It's an easy insult, a quick way to gain prestige or clout amongst your friends," she shrugged. "After all, it takes balls to say it, knowing the incoming reprisal."
The two women just shared amused looks that quickly transitioned back into laughter once more.
"But why the horse?" Serhild couldn't help but ask.
"Butter wasn't enough to ruin his reputation amongst his friends," Sabine replied quickly, chuckling darkly afterwards. "He had too much support, too much protection, to the point that any overt reprisals as we would have preferred would have resulted in too much friction with too many other families."
If there was one thing that Serhild liked most about Sabine in times like this, it was how relaxed she could be. Her friend simply could not allow herself to loosen up when in almost every other environment. Whether it was working in the offices of Lady Natasha, or meeting and greeting with the citizenry of Wulfenburg alongside her husband, only when all the doors were closed, when all the servants went away, and the windows were covered, would Sabine ever let the self-imposed weight drop. Personally speaking, Serhild thought it was a shame that only Magnus and herself saw Sabine like this, yet she knew that after months and months of trying that it was a fool's errand to try and make her act differently. It was how she was raised, how she functioned. A dozen layers of mask and altered action for the best possible perception and result. It was, Serhild knew now, her responsibility as Sabine's friend to ensure that there was a healthy living being beneath all of it.
"Well-," Serhild started before there was a knocking at the door.
The effect on Sabine was instantaneous. The blade was placed lengthwise atop an empty barrel while her hands furiously worked upon her mussed and sweat-slick hair. Breathing changed to reduce the flush of her face, her posture bent ever so slightly, and her stance shifted from martial to something more courtly. All these and more, Serhild knew was happening, but she was headed for the door rather than watch something she'd seen before. She also heard her friend protesting that she needed more time to prepare, but there was no reason to do that. After all, she knew exactly who it should be knocking.
"Come-," Serhild began in a sing-song tone, only to be forced to swing herself backwards out of the way of the door as it was nearly slammed open and Anna von Hohenzollern walked inside with rote precision.
Her mohawk bent back slightly as she walked through the door, the absolute roof of said hair reaching past the doorframe, but Anna did not seem to notice or care enough to droop her shoulders. She was dressed in a manner likely shocking to Sabine, who had never seen her husband's older sister dressed in war regalia. There was leather and mail aplenty, but the bountiful amount of tools on her belt barely jangled at all due to how tightly they were strapped and buckled. The basic 'uniform' of an Ostlander engineer, with certain personalized touches and tools. Perhaps more attention grabbing was the sight of her hefting two handguns, one leaned back against each shoulder. The dead look in her eyes made Serhild shiver. Even knowing it wasn't personal or even directed at anyone at all did not help much. Sabine, on the other hand, had just barely begun some perfect courtly greetings before Anna threw one of the handguns at her and continued marching forward.
"Catch," was the flat call halfway through the handgun's flight.
To Sabine's credit almost a year's worth of trained reflexes against Serhild were enough for her to catch it before it smacked directly into her face.
"I…," Sabine tried to speak, her voice failing her under Anna's unblinking stare.
She was simultaneously wilting and firming herself up, the attempt to present humility and false weakness warring with newfound strength and pride. It was an interesting thing to see, but Serhild hadn't gone through the trouble of volunteering her time to watch little Natasha for this to fail now. As such, she approached and leaned against Anna, a hand coming up to halt her unyielding forward advance.
"You know," she whispered into the engineer's ear, "I had hoped for this to be a more…gentle introduction?"
Anna did not blink as she glanced down at the hand on her stomach and then back up to Serhild's face.
"We've already met."
Then she turned to look at Sabine once more.
"You've received admirable close arms training from Serhild. One of your points of pride was the ability to wear your wedding knife and actually be able to use it. But you have no experience with guns. This will change now."
Nothing changed in her almost slack expression. Her tone was level throughout. There was not a hint of excitement in her despite it supposedly being one of her most favorite topics. Serhild, internally where no one could see, quietly despaired. This was supposed to have been something that could have worked, but she was beginning to think that 'the incident' inside Karak Ungor was more permanent than she'd feared. It was one thing to be told that, it was another to find attempt after attempt…failing.
"I…but this is so unexpected," Sabine rallied, her normal calm reasserting itself. "Serhild and I had booked off a whole extra hour for us to practice, and she worked so hard to…change…schedules." Then she glanced at Serhild, her expression somewhat incredulous. "Serhild?"
She could only smile at her friend.
"I thought you might enjoy learning from one of the Hohenzollern's personally."
And better ingratiate or otherwise connect herself to the Hohenzollerns. Serhild knew well enough what Sabine had been desperate for when she'd come to her. Connection. Bindings. It was one thing to be married to the heir of the province, it was entirely another to have the total approval of his family. But, and Serhild knew this well after swapping tales and feelings over drinks a dozen times, something about watching all of the Hohenzollern's spar that one time right around the time of her marriage had scared her. She would never admit it to any but Serhild, and perhaps Magnus, but the violence unleashed in that one moment was unlike whatever other skullduggery she'd ever accomplished on her own. Arthur and her had done their very best to soothe that, hosting her regularly and helping her out with questions that she did not wish to bother Magnus with. Still, she skirted things when she simply did not have to.
But that, Serhild had learned, was okay. She was making an effort, and her friend deserved for the chance to try.
"Come."
"But I-,"
Maybe she should have tried with Lady Natasha instead. Or Urgdug. Now there was a welcoming fellow.
"Look," Anna said, reaching out and tugging Sabine close with remarkable and almost crushing strength. "We're bonding already."
Sabine's betrayed look as she was dragged down the corridor, combined with the delivery of Anna's words, absolutely demanded that Serhild close and lock the door. Only then, once that was secure, did she bother letting loose her howls of laughter.
==============================================
Wulfenburg Castle - 2332
"I still can't believe you did that," Sabine hissed at her over her glass of wine.
The two of them were wiling away the last few hours of the evening before the desire to sleep overpowered the desire to simply talk with one's friends. All the children had gone to bed, leaving the remarkably luxurious and comfortable chairs and blankets for the two of them to snuggle up inside of by the roaring fire. The toys and such, they left for the servants to sweep away. By now, neither of them were dull enough in reflexes or low enough in agility that weaving through an abandoned toy room was beyond them. Not that this was time for fighting. They wore no leather, no mail, no plates, and all they had for weapons were their wedding knives kept secure within hand's reach. It was the Ostlander way to always have a blade close at hand, no matter what.
Whether it was in the old days of slitting one's throat before the denizens of the forest could get to you, or to futilely fight them off, it was better to die with something in one's hand.
Of course, things had been more optimistic in the past few years.
"It was needed. You were getting out of your shell, to be sure, but every time the Count or any of the other Hohenzollern's walked back, my friend," Serhild bumped her beneath the blankets with her elbow, "Disappeared and 'Lady Nassau' showed up instead."
Sabine's scowl was a weak one, and both women knew it. Her side, on the other hand, was hard and taut enough to make Serhild regret using her elbow as she had. A definite change from the squishier midsection that had once been present in the past. Still, the sting of her elbow was nothing to the pride she felt for helping pull Sabine up to such a state that the sting would be there at all. Then Sabine twisted beneath the blankets and lightly kicked her in the gut, and the pride went out the window as she reared back. Yelling a war cry, she kicked back, both women keeping their wine glasses high and keeping their contents from spilling out. A skill they'd both only learned with much practice.
"My fingers were singed for days afterwards!"
"It wasn't my fault you wouldn't ask the jade wizards for aid! And you told me you were grateful she taught you, and you started spending more time with the engineers, which helped with your own business ideas!"
"But with no warning?!"
There was absolutely no chance of them hurting the other too badly, but you wouldn't know it from the flurry of kicks both were throwing at the other. They were both married women, one with a child and the other surely to have one of her own soon enough. But for all of that, their stations, they shrieked and laughed at one another with total abandon. It had taken two years, but Serhild had managed to bring Sabine that far, and that, she knew, was one of her greatest accomplishments. Yet it was that same laughter, thumping, and swishing of blankets that kept either of them from hearing the door open. Nor the approach of another in a gross display of forgotten tactical instincts considering the potential for threats.
"Well then."
With those two words, Natasha von Hohenzollern froze both Serhild and Sabine more completely than if she had cast her magic upon them in the middle of a winter storm. There was, though Sabine would forever deny it, something akin to a high pitched squeak that escaped her lips as her eyes darted over to her mother-in-law. Serhild was slightly more restrained, verbally, but that was because more of her face was covered by blankets and thus she was more free to flush red with embarrassment. Natasha, for her part, had only raised one delicate eyebrow as she observed them while somehow simultaneously looming. Sabine swallowed once, then exhaled a single calming breath.
"Lady Natasha," she said with remarkable calm. "Good evening. I was not expecting to see you. I apologize for my appearance."
"Why?" Natasha's eyebrow only rose higher, her lips twisting into a faintly amused smile. "You two act more like close sisters than any two unrelated women have any right to. I can appreciate such closeness, given how familial relations can be...," she frowned, "Difficult, for some."
For the barest moment, Serhild knew, there was an entirely different pair of women that Natasha was thinking of.
"Still," Sabine said as she carefully extricated herself from the blankets, placing the wine glass down onto the mantle over the flame. "I cannot help but apologize."
She would have said more, but for the fact that her new position and the firelight now allowed her to more properly see the woman before her. Sabine was dressed in a comfortable and thick wool shift, just as Serhild was. Natasha von Hohenzollern, on the other hand, was dressed for war. Her half-plate was dyed black and blue, in the colors of the Ice Court, save for the right pauldron upon which was the red bull upon the black and white halves of Ostland. Tucked under one arm was her helm, the face purposefully molded into the snarling face of the mythological frostfiends of Kislev, while at her side lay the wickedly sharp arming sword that had become her personal weapon. Rumors still abounded as to whether Frederick or Alexandra von Hohenzollern had been the one who crafted both weapon and armor, and Natasha wasn't saying. All either Sabine or Serhild knew, was how effective both had been proven in the sparring yard.
"Serhild," Sabine said, turning to glare at her friend. "Really?"
Shockingly, however, was Serhild's look of total confusion.
"I…I didn't…," she stammered.
A clenching of a metal-clad fist interrupted her.
"It is time you and I met in the yard," Natasha said calmly. "You have married my son, work with me in letters and messages, but I fear I do not know you as well as I would wish, Sabine. Tell me, when you asked Serhild to teach you, why did you not ask Magnus? You still have not asked him. Do you think he is not capable of teaching?"
Sabine paled.
"No! I would never-," she said in a rush.
"Then why not? First Serhild, then Anna. Knives. Blades. Guns. These are all good things to know how to use," Natasha nodded. "But why haven't you spoken to Magnus about this? It…concerns me." She spoke the last few words with disturbing nonchalance. "Wives are allowed their secrets, their private thoughts, and I would not begrudge you that. And yet, the question remains."
It was a secret thing, of course. Greatswords sworn to secrecy, aided by Arthur and Anna's permissions.
But the veil had, quite readily, been torn apart by one that neither woman had expected.
"I-,"
"She wants to impress him!" Serhild almost shouted.
Natasha blinked very, very slowly. Her clenched fist did not release.
"It was supposed to be…she would ask me for help so she didn't embarrass herself, then she would ask him for lessons. But then we got to talking, and it became less about just pure fighting and more…talking," Serhild finished awkwardly.
Sabine stepped forward, past the couch, her body between Natasha's critical eye and the woman still stuck in a half-standing position.
"She speaks the truth, my lady," Sabine said with a deep bowing of her head. "I…felt alone, in Ostland, and what began as a simple act of training became so much more. Companionship, friends, lessons, and while it was hard at first I grew to welcome it," she said with creeping realization. "Magnus is a good husband, I only wished to become a better wife."
The Ice Mother stared her down.
"I believe you," she finally said. "But Magnus must be brought into this. There is an…intimacy in shared combat, a level of trust and closeness, that you are keeping yourself from. Keeping that distance does no one good. It is easy to fall into a pattern like that," she raised her hand and voice to keep Sabine's excuses away…and bared her teeth. "But first, before anything more, I was not kidding. The green moon is far and away this night, while Mannslieb waxes full."
Sabine shared a look with Serhild, before both looked at Natasha.
"You…you mean…right now?"
"Oh yes, I certainly do."
"But it is almost night!"
The response began with an unsympathetic shrug.
"In Nordland, we fought in the day and we fought in the night. The darkness of the world does not care if you are tired or not. You have half an hour."
Then she turned and walked away, plopping her helmet on as she went. Once she reached the doorway and twisted just enough to look at them.
Wulfenburg Castle - First Bezahltag, Jahrdrung, 2333 IC
"I feel like this is a trap, somehow, but I just can't tell how yet."
It was fair sentiment, given the evidence before him. His own mother, her face a schooled mask of blankness he'd only ever seen at official functions when total control was demanded. Anna, impossible to tell even if he wanted to try, which by now he'd rather given up on. Serhild, wearing her face concealing helmet as well as the rest of her gear in preparation for a personal sparring match with Arthur soon. All of these, he could easily accept being present at the sparring yard. He'd taken blows from each, and dealt out some in return. But the one person he had absolutely come to know would never be present without the direst of reasons, his own wife, was. Their daughter Karola, so recently born, was back in the castle, watched over by a bevy of Greatswords and Urgdug. Her recovery from the birth, he could understand.
"I've known you've been undergoing…a regimen," he said to Sabine, opposite him in a set of half-plate with a smile on her lips. "It was impossible to miss."
The soreness, the bruises, the growing musculature and its tone, all of these were things that he'd known about the moment they'd started. It was impossible to miss when they shared a bed, after all. He'd been greatly concerned, but she simply spoke to trying to keep up with the relentless schedule that the Hohenzollern's set, becoming closer friends with Serhild, and so on. Goodness knew that his brother's wife was enough of a firebrand to demand a certain level of physical fitness to simply accompany her around.
"But…are you…truly sure about this?"
He had long had the hesitation to strike his loved ones in spars beaten, stabbed, and shot out of him.
But Sabine?
She'd never done more than use a knife to butcher an animal after a hunt!
"I'm sure," his wife said calmly, sliding her helmet on as she did so.
In one hand, she held a slightly curved blade, though he couldn't say for certain what it was. Which was an odd thing. Something custom made for her was likely, though he couldn't believe that his father wouldn't even mention such a thing to him.
"I…see," he said uncertainly.
Then he looked over towards the waiting compliment of jade wizards and attempted to steel himself.
"Here…I come," he said through grit teeth.
"Oh my, he never gives us such warnings," Natasha said lightly from where she sat on a bench, chin resting upon a propped fist. "How nice of him."
Magnus felt his cheeks redden slightly.
"Look out, Serhild, I'm about to swing at your knees again!" Serhild parroted, pitching her voice low in a surprisingly close imitation of his voice.
By now, his face was almost scarlet, as was part of his vision. Regardless of the reasoning behind all of this, he did not enjoy being mocked for showing concern to his wife! So his advance was a bit faster than he had initially planned, the swing harder than he'd wanted at first, but before he could scream for the wizards and a surgeon he realized that Sabine had moved out of the way with surprising speed. So surprising, it turned out, that he was simply unprepared to stop her from stabbing up and into his armpit, piercing through the small gap in the plates up into the flesh and meat within. Blood poured out liberally, a pained scream leaving his lips as he staggered back from the potentially fatal blow, the sword's curve causing it to come with him out of a shocked Sabine's grip. As he collapsed, he felt her hands on him, a babble of concern and apologies coming out of her mouth, her helmet tumbling off of her and bouncing slightly on his hip on its way down.
Then the jade wizards were there, one of them grunting as they tore the weapon free of him.
Almost immediately, the pain began to recede, and his hearing sharpened out of the pain fog it had been trapped in.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, I thought you would dodge…I-,"
"Sabine," he rasped out, reaching up to place a finger against the general location of her mouth.
"Y-yes?"
He grinned at her, a heady wave of heat roiling through him as he looked at her.
"Good hit."
It had been like like trying to handle fine glassworks for so long. Beautiful, but with some unescapable sense that he was too brutish to deserve what had been given to him. To be sure, they had together brought beautiful Karola into the world. But outside of that, something deep inside of him worried, and as he worried, he changed. An edifice of protocol and behavior had been built up just so that he could 'treat her properly', whatever that really meant. All of it fell away in that instant as she worried over him, a weight he hadn't realized he'd placed upon himself disappearing. At the same time, he watched a wonderful dust of red settle on her cheeks out of embarrassment from his compliment. Despite the fact that her hands were coated with his own blood, he still smiled at her before turning to glare at the faces of the other women who had pushed husband and wife onto the sparring yard.
"How long has this been going on?" He asked drily, glancing from one to the other. "It is one thing to exercise, it is entirely another for her to have gotten that fast and precise."
"Oh, a while," Serhild finally piped up. "Started with knives. Worked our way up."
"She is competent with guns and comprehends basic artillery maintenance," Anna added before turning and walking away.
His mother, on the other hand, remained silent as she leaned back to rest against the stone wall behind her. She did give him a small smile though.
"I thought it could be…something we could do together?" Sabine turned it from a breathless declaration into a question towards the end, but he knew his answer even then. "More often?"
"Of course," he said, reaching up to kiss her. "Of course we can spar together, by Sigmar and all the Gods of the Empire, we can."
They lost themselves in that kiss until there was a cough that forced them to break it off.
"Does this mean our late night duels are over, Sabine?" Natasha asked with a smirk. "And we had such fun."
"O-of course we can, Lady Natasha," Sabine immediately stammered before a hand rose to stop her.
"I'm kidding. They're over, for now, but only because you have someone else you can now spend that time with. Not on the sidelines, but together."
Both of them, despite their years, blushed at Natasha's words.
"And father," Magnus couldn't help but ask. "Did he know too?"
"Only towards the end," Natasha shrugged, hands folding in her lap. "He forged the blade."
Wulfenburg Castle – Second Festag, Vorhexen, 2333 IC
"Gods above," Sabine grunted, sweat pouring down her face. "And you use this hammer so easily!?"
Magnus just chortled as he lifted it away, the runes on it glowing faintly as he twisted it in his grip.
"It took my years to even be capable of trying, and years more to get to a point that I can use it so easily," he informed her as he rested it head-down and helped her straighten. "You started far later, and, frankly, have just had a child. So you should be on bedrest!"
The courtyard was flush with the sounds of combat, a handful of individual duels ongoing all around them. Arthur shoulder checked his wife into one of the castle's outer walls, a thump hard enough to cause dust to rain down. Urgdug lifted up Cherag and outright threw her, leaving a deep gouge in the earth where the ogre woman bounced and rolled to her feet. A pair of ice hooks stabbed through Frederick von Hohenzollern's shoulders and out the back, lifting him high off his feet, but not before he threw his axe towards Natasha's legs. Then he simply flexed, forcibly, shattering the ice and dropping him ten feet while rolling forward mid-air to nearly crack his wife's skull open with his greaves. But neither Sabine nor Magnus paid attention to any of it aside from basic careful awareness. They had their own separate corner to chatter in.
"Magnus," Sabine said all too sweetly, "Do you know how rare it is for Karola and Ori to be asleep at the same time? I need the sunshine, or else I fear I'll grow as pale as Isabella von Carstein was said to be."
She then gestured to herself, and the fact that her leathers and mail simply did not fit as they used to.
"I did not work so hard at this just to lose what I had barely begun to gain. Not only did my feet swell to the size of Urgdug's, my cheeks are sagging with fat, my arms have gotten flabby, and combat practice was totally removed as an option the minute that my pregnancy was confirmed!" She yelled, the noise barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of Urgdug getting walloped from the front as Cherag plunged her massive axe into his armor to the meat beneath.
Magnus, however, stoically withstood the verbal assault.
He'd already grown capable of such during the first pregnancy, the second had only made his skin grow thicker.
"Are you saying that you did not enjoy our increased time together?" He asked earnestly. "You taught me more about finances than I'd ever thought I'd learn, plus trading deals, negotiations, and more! Wasn't that time well spent?!"
Sabine just scowled at him, unsheathing her sword as she did so.
"Yes, yes, I thoroughly involved myself in your interests and you did the same with me so now we're closer than ever now pick up your hammer and fight me until the fat is gone!"
Then she was swinging at him, forcing him to lift up the Stonebreaker and use its shaft to block, his fingers briefly flying free to avoid the descending edge as it ran the length in a shower of sparks. It was slower than usual, and with less skill after months of inactivity, but there remained the core of ability built up by years of effort by the women of the Hohenzollerns, as well as his own. It would return to form, he knew, if nothing else than by her own newfound stubbornness.
"I love you," he said as she tried to hack him apart.
"I love you too," Sabine snarled back happily.
===========================================
"Ah, young love," Frederick sighed as he watched them from afar, rolling his arms one last time to make sure that the recently healed holes in them were completely gone. "Natasha, do you think that our courting is strange?"
The two of them leaned against each other, arms wrapped about the waist to let Natasha rest her cheek against him.
"Undoubtedly."
Frederick blinked as he looked over at her.
"Ostlanders are a bunch of drunken louts who decided to plant themselves in one of the most virulently adverse environments in the Empire, with a coastal approach from Norsca and the forest all around. Of course you're all odd people," she said plainly.
"You…are aware that you married me, right?"
Natasha simply snorted, reaching over to grasp his chin and bend his head down slightly for a peck on the lips.
"I know. I am simply glad that their marriage is working out. Now if he would never throw himself into battle again, and never worry her or his mother, their marriage would be perfect."
A faint wounded noise came from Frederick at the honest barb. A contention point that would never, truly, heal. But one they had forced themselves to learn to live with.
"All my love, forever," she whispered to him after he had been silent for too long.
"Forever," came the earnest reply.
"Now," Natasha bumped him away with her hip, twirling her blade once more. "We aren't finished yet. Not by a long shot."
"All right, all right," Frederick limbered up once more, tearing the axe out of the earth with one hand while the other hand simply curled into a fist as he shook the dirt off the hornfist. "Let's get on with it."
Various Traits And/Or Equipment Added To Front Page For These Characters [Sabine/Serhild/Natasha]
So fun fact about Tasha's character sheet I just noticed. The annotations behind the traits are very.... laconic. Very IC given who her mother is, I imagine.
Huh, no boost for Magnus? Doesn't quite make sense since he's noted to have studied with his wife during her pregnancies, I would've thought there'd be a boost to his stewardship or something.
