Lovely Laurelorn 0.5
"Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!"
Like it had in the past, Sabine's cursing had started out light, almost amused at her circumstances, before rapidly progressing to that special level of color and breadth reserved for women in the midst of birth, and had now reached the general final stage of a single repeated phrase. Damn it was Sabine's choice, this time around, but there had been others you'd heard. Not just from Sabine, either, not even close. Natasha, in the past, had quickly descended into a long, ringing litany of angry Kislevite towards the world in general. She swore that she could barely remember the near literal sagas of fury she'd spewed before, but you certainly could. They truly were impressive. Serhild on the other hand skipped past words entirely, preferring instead to just let loose one long ululating scream after another.
Magnus, as you'd expected, was pacing a deep grove into the carpet covering the stone floor of the room. There was a nominal amount of worry and concern etching itself onto his face, an expression that your children had mentioned was a near exact copy of your own when it had been Natasha in the birthing chambers. But this time around, there was nothing which heightened those worries, no underlying tension or fear that clung to everyone's hearts as they sat in the chairs almost haphazardly placed about the room. The Jade Wizards remained inside the room with the Shallyans and midwives, and as of yet none of them had come out with sweat soaking their face and dark words on their lips. It had been the case before, words of 'a tearing' or otherwise that had sent hearts beating heavily in the past.
But there was nothing of the sort, this time around.
Every Hohenzollern possible was present, save the children and Anna. They were currently off somewhere within the castle, possibly inside one of the emptied storerooms which had been converted into a playroom for the Herd. Anna was the only one who was essentially entirely immune to the childish yet sometimes frustratingly effective manipulations of children. She was utterly stoic against which all the tears, watery eyes, begging, and so on that at this point none of the Herd even bothered these days. And with your daughter watching the door, it was highly unlikely they'd escape off into the castle on one of their 'adventures' again. In fact, based on what happened last time Anna was tapped for corralling duty, she'll have dragged a board in there with some charcoal or something and is relentlessly pounding mathematics or something into their heads.
"It really was a good thing we actually got it set up," Natasha says while sipping from a glass of wine held in one hand, a Kislevite book in the other. "Those first few wild rushes to find
some room that was clean enough and wasn't our chambers after my water broke were quite exhausting."
"True enough," you nod before looking back down at your work.
The small desk you've dragged over in front of your chair is moderately covered with various legal papers, while you yourself are scribbling out thoughts, notes, and plans for later revision onto some parchment. You've actually made considerable progress, having reached a point where you're actually updating certain local laws to be more in accordance with reality. A river has moved, and thus so has territory and taxation rights, based on previous agreements. The family which claimed this area is actually completely gone, after careful study, so the ones currently claiming the rights over it will need to properly register and then compete for the claim with other families, not simply assume they own it. Certain things are simply impossible now, as you found not one, but five different laws referring to outlawing the
trees from growing a certain height. Not something requiring regular logging, or something simple, but actually aimed towards somehow making the trees obey the law of the local magistrates.
"Do you want to put an icon of Salyak in there?"
"Hmm?" Natasha looks away from her book and towards you with a raised eyebrow.
"Salyak, that Goddess your sister is promoting as, er, the Kislevite…Shallya," you shrug.
Kattarin would probably not like you framing it in that manner, but she's not here right now.
"I don't know for certain. Probably should, it's good to cover the bases," she purses her lips before nodding.
In fact, the birthing chamber itself is damn near a shrine to fertility, health, and childbirth at this point. Icons and symbols of Shallya and Rhya are laden about the place, not just impressed into the stone and walls, but with actual statuary lining the circular room on shelves. A bronze sheaf of grain, supposedly blessed many times over by priestesses of Rhya, an entire flock of marble doves of Shallya, some carrying keys in their beaks and others not. Hagrid even convinced you to put in a few small statues of Hyacinth, the halfling goddess of fertility, sex, and childbirth. Unlike Esmeralda, who is pleasantly plump as expected of a well-fed halfling, Hyacinth is quite rotund indeed with child in every depiction of her.
"DAMN IT MAGNUS GET IN HERE!"
And that's the signal for your son to go rushing into the room, the door nearly torn off its hinges from the force of him tearing it open and slamming it closed behind him. After that last sentence, you and Natasha simultaneously place what is in your hands down carefully before covering up your ears. A few seconds afterwards the repeated curse from Sabine momentarily degenerates into one long scream of exertion before cutting off abruptly. After another shared look you and your wife remove your hands to hear a blessed new noise, one which is also a scream, but far different from Sabine's exertions.
"Aw," Natasha smiles happily, clapping daintily with her hands before standing up from her chair. "They sound like they've got strong lungs indeed."
As she steps away and towards the door, she drains the last of her wine from her glass in one go.
"A fine thing," you agree as you stand, grabbing a flask from your waist and drinking down some ostka. "Let's go welcome the young one in."
And then both of you pause, almost shoulder to shoulder, as a second screeching voice joins the first.
"Young
ones," you correct hastily.
"Honestly, that damn Hohenzollern blood…," Natasha scoffs airily as she trails behind you.
Inside, Sabine is damn near passed out from the entire ordeal, sweat matting her red hair against her skull as she reclines against the bed and its many cushions. One Jade Priest – Carlotta – currently stands near her on the left, one hand spread out towards her body. You can't see any magic being done, but then, how would you? A Rhyan midwife kneels on the right, accepting a cool cloth from the Shallyan priestess next to her to place on Sabine's forehead. A second Rhyan midwife is currently cleaning two screaming babies with extreme delicacy with some warm water. You specifically sought out those who are blessed enough by their chosen Goddesses to be able to draw upon them for more than simple fortitude of spirit. At this point, you don't begrudge those who cannot be so blessed, it is simply the way of things, and so long as they perform good works and serve their Gods as best they can you are fine enough with that.
But when you have the resources to seek out those who specifically
are able to draw out…well, not magic, but something more divine, it goes without question that you'll seek them out.
"How is she," Magnus says quietly, not quite kneeling, not quite bowing, but certainly lowered as he hovers protectively about his wife. "She is not in much pain, is she?"
"
She is fine," Sabine mutters without opening her eyes or moving her head. "She just gave birth to two young boys, and is simply tired. And on the matter of pain, Carlotta has seen to that."
"Merely doing my job, milady," the wizard in question bows her head.
"And a good one at that," Sabine grunts before sighing and blearily opening her eyes. "Ah, good afternoon to you, Count Hohenzollern," she attempts a nod before dragging her head towards the midwives. "I'd like to see my children now?"
Somewhat cleaner, their umbilical cords cut, the two babies are immediately deposited into Sabine's arms. You immediately turn your head about to study some of the Shallyan imagery engraved on the walls as she begins to nurse both of them.
"Magnus," you snap your fingers at your distracted son to get him to come over. "Here."
He accepts the Bugman's New with gratitude and begins drinking immediately.
"Two boys," he says only after he's drunk the entire flask down and handed it back to you. "Two
healthy young boys."
You don't miss how he emphasizes their health. Poor Wolfila. It's practically as if his sisters borrowed some of his vitality in the womb, considering the sheer difference between them. He's a Hohenzollern, no matter what, though. Besides, there've been more than one simpleton or slightly disfigured Hohenzollerns in the past, and yet the family line has continued. You can always find something for them, even if it's something to just keep them happy and secure. And your cursory conversations with the Jade Wizards has been rather uncomfortable in the extreme, as returning the body to its normal state is a far cry from…fleshcrafting, as you heard Jurgen say before he nervously fled from you.
"Twins, then," you clap him on the shoulder as the two of you face the wall, listening with one ear as Natasha asks Sabine how she is doing with a bit more force than Magnus managed. "Glorious."
"Fraternal, though," he replies, pulling a flask of ale from his own belt.
He's got only three to your five, but that's his preference and you'll not rag on him for it.
"Oh?"
"Well," he hunches his shoulders a bit, "It's hard to tell right now beyond their eyes. They're both sort of…pink…blobs."
"Well, that's just babies," you point out, "But what's this about their eyes?"
"One of them has the same dark green eyes you…," he waggles his hand slightly in the air, "That you used to have."
Right. Before Karak Ungor. Whatever it is that happened to you in the depths of that place.
"The other has the more standard Hohenzollern blue," he finishes.
"Any thoughts on their names?"
"Talgris," Sabine calls out tiredly, "For my green-eyed boy, I know that one for certain."
With that, the two of you turn back around to see that the newly named Talgris and his brother are now falling into that first fitful slumber, securely swaddled in soft cloth. Natasha and Carlotta remain, while the priestesses of Rhya and Shallya bow to you on their way out. Magnus is immediately once more by his wife's side, down on one knee as he more closely examines his two newest children.
"…Arthur," he finally says, nodding firmly.
"After your brother?" Natasha asks, her voice amused.
"And why not," he replies back as quietly as he can while still being heard, so as not to wake the children. "Arthur's done more than enough to earn a few babies named after him in Sylvania."
True enough.
For now, you go ahead and call in the rest of the Hohenzollerns, sending a servant out to go locate and bring back both Anna and the Herd. A short time later, and the chamber is nearly drowning in bodies. All of the Herd wishes to see the new children, practically clambering over one another as they do so. Even Urgdug and Cherag poke their heads in, though their combined bulks would be enough to fill the room again altogether. It is around then that Sabine once more summons some inner reserve of strength to lift her head once more to look towards you brother and give a slow nod.
"For the record, Sir Greatbellow, it does, in fact, work."
"I was pretty sure when I heard you were pregnant, hurr," Urgdug chortles like two piles of boulders crashing against one another. "But still, it is good to see."
"What worked?" You ask with a raised eyebrow, looking between the two of them.
As far as you know, other than the larger family gatherings where everyone comes together, Sabine has not had much of a relationship with your brother. There was a short time when she was almost salivating at the possibilities of somehow harnessing the Silk Road, but sheer geography and what information Urgdug could offer on the Mountains of Mourn put a stop to that pretty quickly. He is also the only one that Sabine has not yet even tried to spar against. Which is fair, only you, Natasha, or Magnus give that a go whenever the opportunity arises. They are not distant from each other, which is a significant possibility considering the sheer number of Hohenzollerns and spouses, but neither are they close.
At least, that was what you had thought.
"Oh, something that…Adira brought up," Sabine squirms a bit uncomfortably under the weight of you and Natasha turning your gazes upon her. Or perhaps from how many children are babbling around her.
Or both.
"And what was this?"
"I think I'll be able to explain, milord, my lady," Carlotta speaks up quietly. "We can likely speak better out in the waiting area."
Magnus quirks an eyebrow at you as you and Natasha leave the room after Carlotta, but a motion from you and he remains where he is. And so the three of you join a suddenly nervous looking Urgdug but calm Cherag.
"There is a spell," Carlotta says suddenly, turning so that she can face the rest of you fully, "Which, when cast, can…induce pregnancy."
A certain kind of stillness captures both you and your wife.
"Only Adira had spent the time and effort to learn it before we were sent north," Carlotta continues primly, steadfastly looking forward and not at any one person in the room. "It is known, generally, as
Spring Bloom. For the most part, it is meant for increasing the yield of a field, or…for making sure that conception occurs."
"How is this done? What are the risks of it? What-," Natasha steps forward and begins interrogating Carlotta while you turn to look over at Urgdug and Cherag.
"So," you grin, hands on your hips, "You've finally decided to have a child together, huh?"
Urgdug blushes. Cherag does not.
"I've been telling him for years now, but he wanted to make sure everything was perfect, and that it would happen for sure."
Cherag is certainly shorter than Urgdug, but then your brother is about the tallest ogre you've ever seen. His wife is, however, about as wide as her husband is and that is saying something indeed. Going by the reports out of the Grand Kitchen, however, she is also one of the most talented chefs that they've got. Even now, she's actually still wearing a flour-dusted apron over her custom-woven floral dress with a thankfully covered cleaver on her waist. She is also as bald as an egg, her squashed fat face bending towards the bottom as she smiles at your brother.
"Course, it's not like
his fertility has ever been in question!" She guffaws, nudging her husband with an elbow the size of a small tree stump into his side. "But this'll be the first one that's ours."
For a moment, your brain simply pauses, mostly in an effort to try and skip over the knowledge that Urgdug had about three hundred children at some point during the past several decades of his life. Many are dead or gone from either Ostland or the Empire in general, but at last accounting there were at least a few dozens of them supposedly still around the province. Not that you have personally looked too deeply into it. The sheer number boggles the mind, and while normally you are a proponent of accepting all of one's family regardless of most circumstances, ogre cultural values are far less focused on human-centric monogamy at the moment, and even less so during those halcyon decades past.
"So you asked Sabine to experiment for you?" You ask, amusement in your voice but there is a bit of a reproach in your expression. "Without telling anyone?"
Urgdug shakes his head rapidly.
"Didn't ask! She said she was going to try anyway, and brought it up with Cherag, who said that she'd heard it from Serhild, 'cause Serhild heard from Adira that it was a thing!"
You blink rapidly at that, but then sigh and turn around to find that Natasha is still speaking to Carlotta quite tersely. Instead of involving yourself in
that, you turn back around to Urgdug and Cherag.
"So, you
are aware that since I knighted you, your child is, or rather, will be, technically a noble. And there'll be a certain standard that they'll be held to?"
Both ogres take on quite the serious expressions at that.
"Of course, brother. I won't let you down," Urgdug nods fiercely at you.
"Esmeralda says that it takes discipline to keep home and hearth hale, hearty, and well-fed," Cherag says with pursed lips.
"Guess we'll see then," you shake your head before seeing that Carlotta is being sent back into the room to keep watch over the babies, Natasha's imperiously pointed finger directing her to do so. "Everything okay, Natasha?"
"We'll see," your wife shrugs curtly. "It is her body to do with as she likes, true, but without even talking to me? We put quite a bit of trust into the Jade Wizards, but an utterly unknown spell can have unforeseen consequences."
You can't well argue against that, considering the effects of the Amber Wizard's first…
help…in the past. Even a modicum of warning would have been nice.
"Do you think…Talgris, his eyes I mean," you hum, arms crossed.
"It might be a result of the spell…or, it might just be your blood coming in a bit strongly," she leans against you.
The four of you simply watch, the two elder couples seeing the joy in their younger counterpart, as Magnus manages to get both of his new boys to actually look at him with their tiny little eyes. They appear to goggle at the sight of a being so huge who is not their mother. You wonder how they'll react upon seeing Urgdug or Cherag. It's always been quite amusing as they are confronted by a person so damned big compared to them. But it can't last forever, especially with questions brimming in your and Natasha's minds.
"Serhild? Arthur? Can we talk for a moment?"
Neither of them are fools, and by Sabine's words and Carlotta pulling you and your wife back out of the room to speak, they know precisely what this upcoming conversation is about. You don't miss the slight swell in Serhild's belly, a sure sign of her own pregnancy which was, apparently, begun possibly with aid. No doubt your son's wife will be giving birth sometime early next year. Honestly, it's beginning to be a bit hard to keep up.
=================================
Aside from her wearing a different dress than last time, this one shot through with silver in an almost constellation-like pattern, Sadrina looks exactly the same as you saw her last. But then, she is an elf, and you suppose that such a thing has to be expected. She bears no weapon all that you can see, and most certainly not anything large like a sword or bow. Considering how she is, apparently, a more covert member of the Everqueen's Handmaidens, perhaps that is normal. You hope she's at least got a few daggers or something in her bag. Strip out the more elven features and she could easily pass as a substantially wealthy young noblewoman out for a stroll.
"I am so glad to hear that you will be attending, Count Hohenzollern," she bows her head briefly before turning an absurdly bright smile on your wife. "Will you be coming as well, Countess?"
Natasha and you share a blink.
"I was not aware that I was invited, Handmaiden. Was the invitation not for just my husband?"
Sadrina tilts her head from side to side with the faintest scrunch of her face.
"Mmm, you were present at the last meeting, Countess, and so there is precedent. Your husband is not precisely being asked there as mediator, not this time, and so we may also speak as to guard allotment," she replies calmly with notes of cheer in her voice. "You are not to be discounted in such matters."
"Guards, right," you raise an eyebrow. "I assume I'll not be bringing an entire army into Laurelorn."
"Oh," Sadrina titters, "Certainly not. We shall be journeying to the territory of Lady Dawnstone's Kindred, after all, at the very heart of Laurelorn."
"Well, to be fair, we've been invited to do so before," you mention before taking a short drink from one of your flasks.
Sadrina's eyes flash oddly at your statement, her head tilting just barely to the side before returning, the motion so quick that you almost don't notice it at all.
"Well," she says in a bemused tone, "These seem to be different circumstances. As it is, I believe that you could rightly bring a good twenty of your Greatswords with you, or perhaps ten and your wife?"
Natasha actually seems quite interested, a hand coming up to rub at her chin.
"It would not seem strange, for his wife to be considered Frederick's guard?"
The high elf's eyes widen somewhat.
"No, not at all. Husband and wife pairs in battle are known to the elves, for certain."
Honestly, considering their incredibly long lives and histories stretching back as far as they do, you wouldn't be surprised if they have all sorts of things which could be said to have historical precedent. Simply by virtue of probability.
"And I assume that it would be my magic which counts for so many men?" Natasha's arms come down to cross against one another.
"That and you are, indeed,
the Countess Hohenzollern. The Everqueen took note of you whence last she met you," Sadrina says the name of her mistress with absolute gravitas and awe, somehow doing so despite every other word being spoken with an odd casualness. "And we Handmaidens take…
care to study those with whom the Everqueen speaks."
Well. That is not surprising and yet still somewhat disturbing. You hadn't really considered how it would feel to know that
you have been vetted, for the most part your position in the Empire means that you're the one doing the vetting. Or generally you've had people to vouch for you – like with Ortrud and Gurni. Shit, you haven't sent a letter to Gurni in years. Then again, the dwarf merchant does move around the Karaz Ankor and the Empire with remarkable alacrity. You could send a letter down to him while he's in Averheim and by the time it got there he could be over in Marienburg, or Middenheim.
"Interesting," Natasha hums. "It would be nice to get out, and I'll give Magnus a chance to run things without the two of us hanging over him, even if it is just for a short time."
"True."
"But," she then shrugs, "It is up to you, Frederick. I might just go visit Vogelsang with Serhild, just to get out of the city for a bit."
You know – or rather, you think, you've figured out when Natasha is saying one thing and meaning another whilst talking to you. She has grown…not numb, but scarred over and callused to your regular brushes with death when outside of the province – and sometimes even within it. When she cannot be there, cannot fight alongside you, left back in Wulfenburg to simply wonder if this is the time that you won't be coming back. And you're pretty sure, at this moment, that she'd like to come. Maybe. Husbands have been trying to perfectly predict what their wives wish since the dawn of time, and you aren't arrogant enough to think that you've got it absolutely locked down better than anyone else in the past.
"Ah, and I also have seen that you've grown
quite the grove from the gift you received," Sadrina says suddenly, breaking your chain of thought. "It is wonderful to see such growth."
"Yes, well, it seemed wrong to simply…eat the thing, and do nothing else with it," you answer back.
"Oh yes, and you don't even have manticores and two-headed gryphons coming down to eat them when they fall and begin fermenting on the ground!" She smiles brightly.
Now there's a terrifying thought – drunken manticores rampaging around. But that thought is also accompanied by the wondering of whether or not you should bring some gift or another. A piece of human-based artwork would surely be considered laughable by the standards of the elves. The same goes for any drink, especially considering how the smell of ostka alone gets them to wrinkle their noses. And they'll be providing their own elven wines this time. Trying to bring around jewelry…well damn. What could you bring that they wouldn't just dismiss out of hand the moment you look away? Or is that something you'll just have to – fuck this.
"Sadrina," you almost bark. "Should we be bringing some gift or another to this, or should I be sparing the sensibilities of those involved from human craftsmanship."
You aren't going to even consider bringing
anything dwarf-based.
The Handmaiden of the Everqueen purses her lips and turns a thoughtful look towards the sky.
"Hmm. If this were Ulthuan, I would say yes, but…," she slowly waggles only her head from side to side in an odd bit of motion. "Mmm. I do not know whether or not the Lady of Laurelorn would demand such from
you, as you are not the 'other party', precisely."
"Good enough for me!"
You ignore the short sigh from Natasha.
Choose
[] Bring Natasha And 10 Greatswords: Frankly, it would be nice to get out of the city with your wife again, and if, Sigmar forbid, conflict of some kind occurs? Your wife's magic has only grown stronger lately.
OR
[] Bring 20 Greatswords, But Not Natasha: If something
does happen, it has to be said that the basest and most primal instinct to ensure that Natasha is safe. And twenty Greatswords is quite potent indeed, isn't it?
GM Note: Needed to stop somewhere so we can get moving, you know?
