I'm with it, I'm hip.
And here we see the inherent dangers of dabbling with unfamiliar terminology.
Warhammer Fantasy: Divided Loyalties - an Advisor's Quest
- Thread starter Boney
- Start date
- Fantasy Users' Choice!
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- Tags
- warhammer warhammer fantasy fantasy be gay do crimes (gay) female protagonist pansexual protagonist ck2 quest divided loyalties mountain vietnam ranald is real this is a dwarf quest (dwarfs) this is maybe an elf quest this is not a vampire quest this is not an empire quest try it and find out open voting
Voted best in category in the Users' Choice awards.
I'm with it, I'm hip.
And here we see the inherent dangers of dabbling with unfamiliar terminology.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Rizz is just short for charisma. Gyatt I was not familiar with, but a quick Google search indicates it as an expression of excitement, especially after seeing a large butt.
I...don't think that phrase is saying what you want it to say.
Parabola
Divided Loyalties Librarian
- Location
- The Destination of Fate
- Pronouns
- She/Her
We already have cooperation, there's no harm in securing alternatives in the future. We need to be realistic and remember that Runesmiths and High Mages will always be in short supply (the archmage requirement will eventually lessen) and thus our current waystone requires way more effort than cost.
After the high-priority locations get covered, we will run into diminishing returns and people will be less inclined to shell out money for places that don't need as much help. At the very least, I would prefer to have alternatives that only require two polities to work together - either just "a Runesmith and a Wind wizard" or "an Empire wizard and a Qhaysh wizard".
Mopman43
Mountain-Hermit of Nitpeak
- Location
- Vermont
Is the jobber a Heel? I imagine Kadoh is definitely a Face.
Is the main Eonir Heel a Nordlander stereotype?
- Location
- being near locations is my passion.
I think it says exactly what pucflek wanted to say. /jk
Also, I've seen 'rizz' used specifically to refer to 'sexually attractive/appealing' aspect of being charismatic.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I think that's the most common usage, but it's literally just short for 'charisma', so other uses remain valid, IMO, and I've seen them on occasion.
Mopman43
Mountain-Hermit of Nitpeak
- Location
- Vermont
That's how he keeps his job.
Looks like they kept it close-ish for the first round to give the slightest bit of tension, then Kadoh just obliterated him in the second.
pucflek
Verified simpleton
- Location
- Czech Republic
The ancient dwarfs also said they had cooperation with elves. It's very nice to think in terms of "everyone does best what's for everyone",but that's not the truth at all. Waystones being multicultural is great inventive. This is why was jutones ritual being one of the universal sort of tributary as long as you have was jutones around is good. Because it's an argument hedgewise can raise to further their legitimacy. Our creation is inherently political and every facet needs to be considered. I almost forgot that myself not a few posts ago.
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Eh. The current waystone is pretty damn cheap. It has one component with a negligible cost, three that are low cost, and one that has a moderate cost. The moderate cost comes from having both the riverine and leyline method of transmission. Once the Archmage issue is resolved it'll be pretty damn difficult to get a cheaper waystone without intentionally lowering the quality.
It takes like a week or two for Runesmiths to make the rune. I doubt the Stone Flower is that much more intensive, and Ulthuan can be a source for that. I'm fine with using the Collegiate Fascis, but I'd rather not cut out the Dwarfs. And even if we are in the wrapping up stages of mass deployment, or have finished deployment and are fixing new holes, there should be Runesmiths willing to add their name as a contributor to the Waystone Network.
Damn that reminds me of Asarnil vs the Norscan. Not as much of a disparity, but still quite severe!
Parabola
Divided Loyalties Librarian
- Location
- The Destination of Fate
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Elf!Jim Ross: Well Vince, I dunno 'bout you but it looks like Champion Kadoh is not in his best performance today.
Elf!Vince McMahon: He's just warming up, Jim, and - oh! Look! See! What did I say!
Elf!Jim Ross: Bah Asuryan, what a piledriver! In all my centuries I've never seen the like!
Elf!Vince McMahon: Jim, I think we're about to see more of that today!
Turn 43 Social - 2491 - Part 3
The event you've been thinking of as the Festival of Asuryan is known to the Eonir simply as The Festival, for lack of any other within their society to compete for the label, which may need rethinking now that they've opened themselves up to the Empire and its quite literally innumerable festivals. The centrepiece of the event is the trial by combat to decide the Queen's Champion, one third of the executive Triumvirate that rules Laurelorn, and that's why it's something that a lot of nervous eyes are on - if Kadoh is replaced, it will most likely be by a challenger from the deeply isolationist House Malforric, which currently dominates the Temple of Asuryan in Laurelorn and therefore dictates the exact format of the fights that will decide the victor. Kadoh's role requires him to spend a significant amount of time seeing to the political and ceremonial duties of the Queen's Champion, whereas those being groomed to challenge him have been able to spend every waking moment preparing themselves for this one event.
But while that does take centre stage, the Festival is also made up of other games dedicated to the other Gods to show off their favoured proficiencies. And since all of that draws in just about all of the Forestborn, filling the trees for a league around the walls of Tor Lithanel with hammocks and platforms, every public space not overtaken by the Festival is filled with markets for goods to be sold to and bought from the immense numbers of visiting Forestborn, some from the more relatively distant corners of Laurelorn Forest that rarely make the trip to the city. Even the Forestborn that normally spurn the Cityborn use the event to maintain relations with their counterparts from the other Wards of Laurelorn Forest.
This gives you as many cultural reasons to dedicate some of your limited spare time to it as you have political ones, and as the city gears up for the Festival, you feel confident that it will be time well spent.
---
Elven worship is dominated by something called the 'Pantheonic Mandala', the hierarchy of Gods based on their importance to that subdivision of their society. There are layers of meaning to the exact pattern that you're only beginning to grasp the basics of, but the surface-level understanding is that there is one God at the heart of the pantheon that represents the foremost deity, seven in the inner ring that represent the most venerated Gods, and fourteen in the outer ring for the Gods not quite as respected or necessary, but still powerful enough to be considered a major God. There was a time when this division was simply that of the Cadai, the Gods of Heaven that represented the ideals that Elves must strive for, and the Cytharai, the Gods of the Underworld that represented the realities that the Elves must grapple with, but Mathlann's ascension to the inner ring despite being the fickle and uncaring God of Storm and Sea represented the Elves breaking with that supposedly fundamental truth.
(Whether that means that there was a God demoted from the Cadai, or whether the Pantheonic Mandala once changed size as needed, is a very significant question you've yet to receive a straight answer to.)
Now the Mandalas are molded to fit the culture and circumstances of the divided Elven societies. The Asur, for instance, have Asuryan at the heart of theirs, but the Druchii place Khaine in pride of place, while the Asrai place Kurnous and Isha in joint supremacy. But the Eonir, with their tamed forest and hard borders, have put Isha alone at the heart of their Mandala, and Kurnous and His wilds that the Eonir need not grapple with are demoted all the way to the outer ring. Ereth Khial, the Pale Queen who offers safe escort to Elven souls lost on their way to their proper destination and in danger of predation - not to where they actually wanted to go, but to an afterlife spent in Ereth Khial's service, but safe escort nonetheless - is placed in the outer ring by the Asur and Asrai who can count on the leylines of Ulthuan and the forest-soul of Athel Loren respectively to guide their souls to where it must go. But the Druchii, who presumably have nothing equivalent in Naggaroth to guide them and often die far from it besides, have Her on the inner ring. The Eonir, who have a strong taboo against leaving Laurelorn and its oversoul dominated by the Grey Lords, have removed Ereth Khial from the mandala entirely in favour of Ulric, relegating Her to a minor god.
(But, interestingly, not Nethu, Keeper of the Last Door and son of Ereth Khial. What little you know of his role suggests that it begins and ends with guarding His mother's domain, but that the Eonir demoted Ereth Khial instead of Nethu suggests that there's more to Him. Are there more powers and domains within the deeper secrets of His cult, or are those that claim that Nethu's father is Asuryan correct, and it is His father's influence that has kept His place within the Eonir mandala secure?)
The relevance to the matter at hand is that the Eonir can be argued - usually by them - to have stayed truer to the old ways of the Elves, those shaped by Aenarion and Caledor Dragontamer and Bel Shanaar, and that the War of the Ancients and the Sundering enforced changes on the Asur that the Eonir have not suffered. But one way they have not is that as it was founded at the instruction of the Everqueen and by one of her granddaughters, Isha's influence dominated from the start and it didn't take long after their official splitting from Ulthuan for that to be formalized in Her being placed at the heart of their mandala, replacing Asuryan. The main holdout of the time before usurpation is that the role of Queen's Champion is chosen and blessed by Asuryan, which serves as a reminder to the Eonir that the blood of the first Phoenix King runs in the veins of their Queen, just as the blood of the first Everqueen does.
This means that even in the best of times there is a tension at the heart of the Festival, and these are not the best of times. The current division among the nobles of Tor Lithanel has thus far remained a largely secular one, but that is largely thanks to the current champion Kadoh being firmly loyal to the Queen and making it difficult to argue that Asuryan has a problem with the current course of events. If he is supplanted by an isolationist, then the entire influence of the Temple of Asuryan in Tor Lithanel will be aligned against the Queen, and it would become easy and advantageous for many to add a religious tinge to the conflict. Especially since the Queen cannot claim the same dominance over the Temple of Isha, where the isolationist Houses Sumier and Yavanna compete for influence with the Queen and her loyalists in House Filuan.
(You spent an uncomfortable fifteen minutes sketching out where the lines would be drawn if things became explicitly religious, and as it currently stands, the isolationists dominate the Temples of Asuryan, Kurnous, Vaul, Drakira, Eldrazor, and Ellinill, while the loyalists control the Temples of Mathlann, Ladrielle, Lileath, Atharti, Morai-Heg, and, of course, Ulric. The Temples of Isha, Hoeth, and Hekarti would be split down the middle. It's a situation that has a lot of potential for a lot of ugliness.)
The game opens with a series of mostly-rote speeches by a number of prominent figures, many of whom touch on the recent conflicts in only the most ephemeral of ways that would be easy to completely overlook if one was not attuned to how gently points are made in Eltharin, but your attention is jolted back to the event when an actual Phoenix swoops in to alight on an enormous brazier, nestling into it and setting the oil within it aflame. As it chirps and settles into place, its aura washes over the crowd, warming the air and spreading through its audience a feeling of... something, presumably. Its fiery aura circles around you, repelled by the Ulgu of your soul, and those standing nearest to you in the crowd give you a dirty look. You ignore them as you scrutinize the bird; Phoenixes of all sorts are an extremely rare sight outside of Ulthuan, and normally a sighting of them would have the Colleges rifling through their vaults for an appropriate Scroll of Binding. That would probably be something of a faux pas in this scenario, however. You wonder if this one lives somewhere in the depths of the Laurelorn forest, or if it made the trip all the way from Ulthuan to, aha, 'carry the torch' for Asuryan.
With the brazier lit, the High Priests of the city's Temples intone an incantation in a tongue even older than Eltharin, inviting the Gods to give their blessing, and you can feel something change in the air as their prayer is heeded. It isn't quite the attention of the Gods, but it is a conduit such that the attention of Them, and if need be Their direct intervention, could be here at Their slightest whim. An expression of interest and a warning against interlopers - a deific equivalent of a gang or a beast marking its territory, one more cavalier than you about making such base parallels might say. The length of the Festival varies based on how many events are being sponsored by the various power blocs within Laurelorn, and with political tensions high this one is scheduled to last for a full week.
You're not normally one for sports - you leave that sort of thing to Wolf - but every 'game' in this Festival is a demonstration of skills directly applicable to warfare, which is intriguing even before one considers that every demonstration is performed by a lithe and usually underdressed Elf in peak physical fitness. There are, of course, archery and races, but there are also combinations of the two, in which competitors must run a race and then achieve a set number of bullseyes, in which some competitors give the race their all and then fire quiver after quiver at the target in hopes of racking up bullseyes by sheer weight of fire, and others pace themselves so that their hands are steady enough at the end to achieve the required accuracy with every single arrow they fire. Others race in a loop around a central array of targets and at the end of each quarter of the circuit, they must hit the target facing that point of the compass for the leg they just ran to 'count' - without slowing their pace. Other races are held along carefully-selected stretches of forest, where touching the ground at any point is disqualifying.
The winner of each event is awarded a laurel wreath - one might say a Laurel wreath - and a sinecure in the Temple that sponsored the event, as well as being much more likely to receive enchanted weapons and armour the next time Tor Lithanel is threatened.
It's a very entertaining week, but throughout it all there is a palpable sense of anticipation for the climactic showdown, when Kadoh must defend his position against the chosen champion of the Isolationist bloc. The Temple of Asuryan is responsible for choosing the exact format of this event, and they've chosen to cleave very closely to the most traditional format: one where the two must demonstrate which is most able to emulate the deeds of the most favoured champion of Asuryan, who was, at least according to the Eonir, Aenarion the Defender. He was also the great-great-great grandfather of Queen Marrisith, a point that is subtly but repeatedly emphasized at various points throughout the ceremonies. According to legend he wielded a mere hunting spear the first time he took the battlefield, and from there would take up a weapon of a slain enemy and use it until his God-given strength shattered it. His later dalliance with the Sword of Khaine is not the part of his tale that this Temple of Asuryan lingers on. As such, the competitors will enter the arena carrying a spear, but the arena is ringed with every kind of melee weapon imaginable. All are made of a heavy but fragile wood that will shatter painfully on a direct hit, their edges blunt but daubed with a dye that will not only make every cut clearly visible, but will also make the bruises they leave burn even worse.
In theory, the marks will make it able to identify which blows would have been killing blows, but theory also holds that one properly favoured by Asuryan would be able to shrug those off in actual combat. Therefore, combat continues until one combatant is so bruised and battered by weapons being shattered on them that they are unwilling or unable to continue, and the marks are purely there for spectacle.
Kadoh's challenger goes by the name of Oriouloc, which you frown at as you try to mentally translate it until you realize that whatever it originally was, it's been melded into a tribute to his former patron of House Elwyn. That, you suppose, answers the question of whether or not his candidacy is political. He's lither than Kadoh, which still means that he'd be considered muscular by human standards and is absurdly so by Elven ones.
Kadoh and Oriouloc stare at each other across the arena, their hunting spears driven into the sand in front of them, waiting for the moment their shadows disappear.
[Round 1, Kadoh vs Oriouloc: 28 vs 11.]
Kadoh is first to move, but only by a fraction of a second, and the spears cross in midair as both duellists begin to move, Oriouloc towards the weapons at the edge of the arena and Kadoh towards Oriouloc. Both are able to avoid the incoming spears without changing their trajectory, but where Oriouloc's dodge looks fluid and practiced, Kadoh's makes it look like that was the direction he always intended to move.
[Round 2, Kadoh vs Oriouloc: 96 vs 26.]
Oriouloc reaches the edge of the arena and manages to get his hands on his chosen weapon - an intricate-looking halberd of some sort that causes a chorus of mutters to rise from the crowd - but the second he took his eyes off the approaching Kadoh to reach for the weapon, he'd accelerated forward and Oriouloc turns back to catch a fist to the face, sending him sprawling across the sand. He manages to retain his grip on the halberd for a moment, which means that Kadoh's next punch goes to Oriouloc's arm, causing a crack to ring out, mirrored by a second, much milder one as Kadoh takes the halberd and breaks it in half.
The rest of the engagement is an exercise in flawless brutality, as Kadoh times his attacks just enough that Oriouloc would have time to yield between blows, but never enough time to fully recover his footing. To his credit, Oriouloc holds out for long enough for it to stop being sad and start being impressive, but he does eventually surrender to inevitability and signal his surrender, and with it, what was likely to have been the last chance for the isolationist bloc to turn back the clock.
You eavesdrop on the dispersing crowds to get a feel on how the Eonir feel about all of this, and the general sentiment seems to be that everyone was ready for some sort of divine intervention to happen but aren't entirely surprised by its lack, and there's a number of jokes to the effect of Kadoh's family putting the Gods out of a job for lack of any need of divine aid. What you don't hear is the opinion of anyone politically opposed to Kadoh, and you take that to mean that they're feeling rather unemboldened by such an overwhelming defeat.
All in all, it is something of an anticlimax, but it's a very welcome one.
---
While going about your duties, the logistical miracles of the Colleges' postal system delivers to you a request from the Elector Countess of Stirland to attend to her at your convenience. That it doesn't say earliest convenience indicates that it really means when it's convenient for you. So you make a mental note to drop in next time you're flying between Laurelorn and Karak Eight Peaks.
Easier said than done, as it turns out. According to Eagle Castle she's in Drakenhof, and according to Drakenhof she's in Eagle Castle. Both ends of this contradiction are a little too willing to pass on mail or messages, and while there is concern from those people when you point out that you were at the other earlier that day and she definitely isn't there, so you definitely didn't just miss her, it's not the concern of someone whose superior is missing, it's the concern of someone whose deception has run into someone with capabilities it didn't account for. It's also a very mild type of concern, which would not be the case if there was something genuinely nefarious going on and a Lord Magister of the Grey Order had just caught them in a lie.
For that reason, instead of going to the time and effort of disassembling whatever trickery is afoot, you simply glare at the person in front of you - well, not so much 'glare' as no longer masking the expression of annoyance that all this has given you - and wait until they either make the problem go away or escalate the matter to whoever it is that gives them orders. In your experience, if it's a sufficiently important person doing the glaring, there's very few problems that this process can't punch through. Sure enough, it only takes a few escalations before you're pointed towards Thalheim, a minor farming town upriver of Wurtbad.
You have the Gyrocarriage drop you off in the hills nearby and travel in on Shadowsteed, and within a heavily-guarded manor that you have an unexpectedly tricky time infiltrating, you find the Elector Countess attending to a desk loaded with correspondence and reports. You also find her very heavily pregnant, so instead of simply fading back into visibility behind her and waiting for her to notice you, you leave the room and knock on the door. You're no expert on the vulnerabilities that pregnancy inflicts on a woman, and you've no interest in discovering for yourself if a sufficient fright can inflict any of them.
"Yes?" she says, and when you enter the room she puts away the blunderbuss she'd levelled at the door. "Ah, Dame Weber. I hope it wasn't too much trouble to pay me a visit."
"Not especially so," you reply. "What can I do for you?"
She gives you a level look, anticipating a question you won't give her the satisfaction of asking, and you look determinedly back. Yes, she's pregnant, and she's keeping it a secret, but she's not even the first Van Hal to let you in on this secret. Last time, she was the secret you were let in on. Eventually, she huffs and moves past it. "I felt it was right to warn you that there will not be another Van Hal on the throne of Stirland." You consider that and nod, not needing further elaboration, but she evidently feels the need to give it anyway. "Father's ambition was to finally bury the Vanhel legacy for good, to free the rest of the family from the grip it has always had on us. I've come to believe that replacing Vanhaldenschlosse with Eagle Castle doesn't achieve that. What needs to be done is that Sylvania needs to be brought down to the point where it can be kept suppressed by any competent administrator, and then allow the position to pass to someone with a blank enough slate that their victories will earn them glory, rather than just paying the interest on thirteen centuries of inherited shame."
"Understood," you say simply, more because she seems to be expecting an answer than because you had needed time to digest what she was saying.
"Have you," she begins asking, then stops. "I felt you deserved to know," she says finally. "You have been involved in this chapter of the long, sad story of Sylvania since it opened, and even after you were dismissed from it, your influence in it has been felt. I don't doubt that the chapter after mine will still feel your involvement."
You don't actually know how to respond to that. It makes you kind of glad that you have a way to completely derail the course of the conversation. "Well, in the interest of inheritance disclosures, there's a decent chance that you'll end up Emperor if Luitpold passes in the near future."
She stares at you, blinking as she recalculates. "Has something happened to the heir?"
"The same something as Wilhelmina's. He'll probably be going into the Bright Order. If Luitpold lasts long enough for Mandred to rack up some accolades he might still be able to make it work, but if the election happens while he's still an Apprentice, odds will be very against him."
"Okay, but why in the world would..." she falls silent, then sighs. "Because I'm an unmarried and apparently childless woman with an inoffensive pet cause. The ambitious think they might be able to marry me into their dynasty, the unambitious think that the power of the Emperor stamping down on Sylvania is preferable to the usual political or religious pet causes of nobility, and everyone thinks that if they put me on the throne, they or their heir will get another chance to properly exercise that power before too long, whereas anyone else as Emperor would have the inheritance locked down for their preferred heir. I'm a perfect compromise candidate if none of the others can get a clear lead."
"And on a non-cynical level, bringing Sylvania to heel is an impressive achievement. Even those that aren't cleared to know about the Alkharad situation, do know from the Emperor's decree that you must have stumbled across something that really needed killing."
"That... might actually change the situation," she says, drumming her fingers on the table and frowning. "Burying the family legacy is one thing, but being crowned Empress Van Hal for finally subjugating Sylvania would be a complete triumph over it." She hesitates, her eyes darting over to you as she considers whether to continue. "And a not inconsiderable personal vindication, as well," she admits.
"It might hurt your chances if a dynastic marriage isn't possible-"
"It's possible," she says. You stay silent for a moment, leaving space for elaboration that Roswita unabashedly leaves unfilled.
"Then you have a very powerful card to play," you continue. "The other most likely candidates are Talabecland and Ostermark, but you're more likely to be able to secure the Sigmarite votes, who would be looking for a candidate outside of the historical Wolf and Ottilian provinces. If you actually make moves towards it, you could line yourself up to be the nigh automatic choice, if timing renders the Holswig-Schliestein heir unsuitable."
She gives you a long look, that you mistake for thinking until she speaks. "What do you get out of telling me this?"
"Get?" You frown as you consider that. "Not having to spend time getting to know some other person if they become Emperor, I suppose. But really, what it comes down to is that I had information that you would be better off knowing than not knowing, and it cost me nothing to give it to you, so I gave it to you." Because it's what your father would have wanted me to do, you don't say, but she hears it nevertheless.
She looks at you for a long time, and you look back. There is a possible version of this conversation where you actually speak up here, and you have a very long and awkward conversation about what her father actually did mean to you, and what he might have meant to you if things had not gone so terribly wrong at Drakenhof, and, let's be honest here, if he also had a hitherto unsuggested predilection for insecure young Wizards who had only just begun to come into their own. But not only would that be an agonizingly awkward conversation to have, it would also be one that would expose the person you used to be. You quite like being the highly-skilled Wizard with the ear of many of the continent's movers and shakers, the shadowy figure only glimpsed out of the corner of one's eye as she watches events unfold with a knowing smile. You know that whatever it is that Roswita is imagining, it stars a slightly younger version of that take on yourself, rather than the fumbling, coltish young woman that Abelhelm was much more of a mentor to than anything else.
Part of you still flinches at the memory of Roswita so summarily banishing you from what had become your home, and that part of you quite likes that part of Roswita is still intimidated by what she imagines you to be and to have been. You don't want to give Roswita the ability to treat the younger version of yourself with the same contempt that part of you does.
So you remain silent, and let Roswita imagine whatever it is she imagines.
"Thank you," she finally says to you, and you just smile and nod.
- The dice for the duel at the Festival were rolled here. RIP to Oriouloc but apparently Kadoh's built different.
- Magical initiate and the Itilmar for books deal still to come.
But while that does take centre stage, the Festival is also made up of other games dedicated to the other Gods to show off their favoured proficiencies. And since all of that draws in just about all of the Forestborn, filling the trees for a league around the walls of Tor Lithanel with hammocks and platforms, every public space not overtaken by the Festival is filled with markets for goods to be sold to and bought from the immense numbers of visiting Forestborn, some from the more relatively distant corners of Laurelorn Forest that rarely make the trip to the city. Even the Forestborn that normally spurn the Cityborn use the event to maintain relations with their counterparts from the other Wards of Laurelorn Forest.
This gives you as many cultural reasons to dedicate some of your limited spare time to it as you have political ones, and as the city gears up for the Festival, you feel confident that it will be time well spent.
---
Elven worship is dominated by something called the 'Pantheonic Mandala', the hierarchy of Gods based on their importance to that subdivision of their society. There are layers of meaning to the exact pattern that you're only beginning to grasp the basics of, but the surface-level understanding is that there is one God at the heart of the pantheon that represents the foremost deity, seven in the inner ring that represent the most venerated Gods, and fourteen in the outer ring for the Gods not quite as respected or necessary, but still powerful enough to be considered a major God. There was a time when this division was simply that of the Cadai, the Gods of Heaven that represented the ideals that Elves must strive for, and the Cytharai, the Gods of the Underworld that represented the realities that the Elves must grapple with, but Mathlann's ascension to the inner ring despite being the fickle and uncaring God of Storm and Sea represented the Elves breaking with that supposedly fundamental truth.
(Whether that means that there was a God demoted from the Cadai, or whether the Pantheonic Mandala once changed size as needed, is a very significant question you've yet to receive a straight answer to.)
Now the Mandalas are molded to fit the culture and circumstances of the divided Elven societies. The Asur, for instance, have Asuryan at the heart of theirs, but the Druchii place Khaine in pride of place, while the Asrai place Kurnous and Isha in joint supremacy. But the Eonir, with their tamed forest and hard borders, have put Isha alone at the heart of their Mandala, and Kurnous and His wilds that the Eonir need not grapple with are demoted all the way to the outer ring. Ereth Khial, the Pale Queen who offers safe escort to Elven souls lost on their way to their proper destination and in danger of predation - not to where they actually wanted to go, but to an afterlife spent in Ereth Khial's service, but safe escort nonetheless - is placed in the outer ring by the Asur and Asrai who can count on the leylines of Ulthuan and the forest-soul of Athel Loren respectively to guide their souls to where it must go. But the Druchii, who presumably have nothing equivalent in Naggaroth to guide them and often die far from it besides, have Her on the inner ring. The Eonir, who have a strong taboo against leaving Laurelorn and its oversoul dominated by the Grey Lords, have removed Ereth Khial from the mandala entirely in favour of Ulric, relegating Her to a minor god.
(But, interestingly, not Nethu, Keeper of the Last Door and son of Ereth Khial. What little you know of his role suggests that it begins and ends with guarding His mother's domain, but that the Eonir demoted Ereth Khial instead of Nethu suggests that there's more to Him. Are there more powers and domains within the deeper secrets of His cult, or are those that claim that Nethu's father is Asuryan correct, and it is His father's influence that has kept His place within the Eonir mandala secure?)
The relevance to the matter at hand is that the Eonir can be argued - usually by them - to have stayed truer to the old ways of the Elves, those shaped by Aenarion and Caledor Dragontamer and Bel Shanaar, and that the War of the Ancients and the Sundering enforced changes on the Asur that the Eonir have not suffered. But one way they have not is that as it was founded at the instruction of the Everqueen and by one of her granddaughters, Isha's influence dominated from the start and it didn't take long after their official splitting from Ulthuan for that to be formalized in Her being placed at the heart of their mandala, replacing Asuryan. The main holdout of the time before usurpation is that the role of Queen's Champion is chosen and blessed by Asuryan, which serves as a reminder to the Eonir that the blood of the first Phoenix King runs in the veins of their Queen, just as the blood of the first Everqueen does.
This means that even in the best of times there is a tension at the heart of the Festival, and these are not the best of times. The current division among the nobles of Tor Lithanel has thus far remained a largely secular one, but that is largely thanks to the current champion Kadoh being firmly loyal to the Queen and making it difficult to argue that Asuryan has a problem with the current course of events. If he is supplanted by an isolationist, then the entire influence of the Temple of Asuryan in Tor Lithanel will be aligned against the Queen, and it would become easy and advantageous for many to add a religious tinge to the conflict. Especially since the Queen cannot claim the same dominance over the Temple of Isha, where the isolationist Houses Sumier and Yavanna compete for influence with the Queen and her loyalists in House Filuan.
(You spent an uncomfortable fifteen minutes sketching out where the lines would be drawn if things became explicitly religious, and as it currently stands, the isolationists dominate the Temples of Asuryan, Kurnous, Vaul, Drakira, Eldrazor, and Ellinill, while the loyalists control the Temples of Mathlann, Ladrielle, Lileath, Atharti, Morai-Heg, and, of course, Ulric. The Temples of Isha, Hoeth, and Hekarti would be split down the middle. It's a situation that has a lot of potential for a lot of ugliness.)
The game opens with a series of mostly-rote speeches by a number of prominent figures, many of whom touch on the recent conflicts in only the most ephemeral of ways that would be easy to completely overlook if one was not attuned to how gently points are made in Eltharin, but your attention is jolted back to the event when an actual Phoenix swoops in to alight on an enormous brazier, nestling into it and setting the oil within it aflame. As it chirps and settles into place, its aura washes over the crowd, warming the air and spreading through its audience a feeling of... something, presumably. Its fiery aura circles around you, repelled by the Ulgu of your soul, and those standing nearest to you in the crowd give you a dirty look. You ignore them as you scrutinize the bird; Phoenixes of all sorts are an extremely rare sight outside of Ulthuan, and normally a sighting of them would have the Colleges rifling through their vaults for an appropriate Scroll of Binding. That would probably be something of a faux pas in this scenario, however. You wonder if this one lives somewhere in the depths of the Laurelorn forest, or if it made the trip all the way from Ulthuan to, aha, 'carry the torch' for Asuryan.
With the brazier lit, the High Priests of the city's Temples intone an incantation in a tongue even older than Eltharin, inviting the Gods to give their blessing, and you can feel something change in the air as their prayer is heeded. It isn't quite the attention of the Gods, but it is a conduit such that the attention of Them, and if need be Their direct intervention, could be here at Their slightest whim. An expression of interest and a warning against interlopers - a deific equivalent of a gang or a beast marking its territory, one more cavalier than you about making such base parallels might say. The length of the Festival varies based on how many events are being sponsored by the various power blocs within Laurelorn, and with political tensions high this one is scheduled to last for a full week.
You're not normally one for sports - you leave that sort of thing to Wolf - but every 'game' in this Festival is a demonstration of skills directly applicable to warfare, which is intriguing even before one considers that every demonstration is performed by a lithe and usually underdressed Elf in peak physical fitness. There are, of course, archery and races, but there are also combinations of the two, in which competitors must run a race and then achieve a set number of bullseyes, in which some competitors give the race their all and then fire quiver after quiver at the target in hopes of racking up bullseyes by sheer weight of fire, and others pace themselves so that their hands are steady enough at the end to achieve the required accuracy with every single arrow they fire. Others race in a loop around a central array of targets and at the end of each quarter of the circuit, they must hit the target facing that point of the compass for the leg they just ran to 'count' - without slowing their pace. Other races are held along carefully-selected stretches of forest, where touching the ground at any point is disqualifying.
The winner of each event is awarded a laurel wreath - one might say a Laurel wreath - and a sinecure in the Temple that sponsored the event, as well as being much more likely to receive enchanted weapons and armour the next time Tor Lithanel is threatened.
It's a very entertaining week, but throughout it all there is a palpable sense of anticipation for the climactic showdown, when Kadoh must defend his position against the chosen champion of the Isolationist bloc. The Temple of Asuryan is responsible for choosing the exact format of this event, and they've chosen to cleave very closely to the most traditional format: one where the two must demonstrate which is most able to emulate the deeds of the most favoured champion of Asuryan, who was, at least according to the Eonir, Aenarion the Defender. He was also the great-great-great grandfather of Queen Marrisith, a point that is subtly but repeatedly emphasized at various points throughout the ceremonies. According to legend he wielded a mere hunting spear the first time he took the battlefield, and from there would take up a weapon of a slain enemy and use it until his God-given strength shattered it. His later dalliance with the Sword of Khaine is not the part of his tale that this Temple of Asuryan lingers on. As such, the competitors will enter the arena carrying a spear, but the arena is ringed with every kind of melee weapon imaginable. All are made of a heavy but fragile wood that will shatter painfully on a direct hit, their edges blunt but daubed with a dye that will not only make every cut clearly visible, but will also make the bruises they leave burn even worse.
In theory, the marks will make it able to identify which blows would have been killing blows, but theory also holds that one properly favoured by Asuryan would be able to shrug those off in actual combat. Therefore, combat continues until one combatant is so bruised and battered by weapons being shattered on them that they are unwilling or unable to continue, and the marks are purely there for spectacle.
Kadoh's challenger goes by the name of Oriouloc, which you frown at as you try to mentally translate it until you realize that whatever it originally was, it's been melded into a tribute to his former patron of House Elwyn. That, you suppose, answers the question of whether or not his candidacy is political. He's lither than Kadoh, which still means that he'd be considered muscular by human standards and is absurdly so by Elven ones.
Kadoh and Oriouloc stare at each other across the arena, their hunting spears driven into the sand in front of them, waiting for the moment their shadows disappear.
[Round 1, Kadoh vs Oriouloc: 28 vs 11.]
Kadoh is first to move, but only by a fraction of a second, and the spears cross in midair as both duellists begin to move, Oriouloc towards the weapons at the edge of the arena and Kadoh towards Oriouloc. Both are able to avoid the incoming spears without changing their trajectory, but where Oriouloc's dodge looks fluid and practiced, Kadoh's makes it look like that was the direction he always intended to move.
[Round 2, Kadoh vs Oriouloc: 96 vs 26.]
Oriouloc reaches the edge of the arena and manages to get his hands on his chosen weapon - an intricate-looking halberd of some sort that causes a chorus of mutters to rise from the crowd - but the second he took his eyes off the approaching Kadoh to reach for the weapon, he'd accelerated forward and Oriouloc turns back to catch a fist to the face, sending him sprawling across the sand. He manages to retain his grip on the halberd for a moment, which means that Kadoh's next punch goes to Oriouloc's arm, causing a crack to ring out, mirrored by a second, much milder one as Kadoh takes the halberd and breaks it in half.
The rest of the engagement is an exercise in flawless brutality, as Kadoh times his attacks just enough that Oriouloc would have time to yield between blows, but never enough time to fully recover his footing. To his credit, Oriouloc holds out for long enough for it to stop being sad and start being impressive, but he does eventually surrender to inevitability and signal his surrender, and with it, what was likely to have been the last chance for the isolationist bloc to turn back the clock.
You eavesdrop on the dispersing crowds to get a feel on how the Eonir feel about all of this, and the general sentiment seems to be that everyone was ready for some sort of divine intervention to happen but aren't entirely surprised by its lack, and there's a number of jokes to the effect of Kadoh's family putting the Gods out of a job for lack of any need of divine aid. What you don't hear is the opinion of anyone politically opposed to Kadoh, and you take that to mean that they're feeling rather unemboldened by such an overwhelming defeat.
All in all, it is something of an anticlimax, but it's a very welcome one.
---
While going about your duties, the logistical miracles of the Colleges' postal system delivers to you a request from the Elector Countess of Stirland to attend to her at your convenience. That it doesn't say earliest convenience indicates that it really means when it's convenient for you. So you make a mental note to drop in next time you're flying between Laurelorn and Karak Eight Peaks.
Easier said than done, as it turns out. According to Eagle Castle she's in Drakenhof, and according to Drakenhof she's in Eagle Castle. Both ends of this contradiction are a little too willing to pass on mail or messages, and while there is concern from those people when you point out that you were at the other earlier that day and she definitely isn't there, so you definitely didn't just miss her, it's not the concern of someone whose superior is missing, it's the concern of someone whose deception has run into someone with capabilities it didn't account for. It's also a very mild type of concern, which would not be the case if there was something genuinely nefarious going on and a Lord Magister of the Grey Order had just caught them in a lie.
For that reason, instead of going to the time and effort of disassembling whatever trickery is afoot, you simply glare at the person in front of you - well, not so much 'glare' as no longer masking the expression of annoyance that all this has given you - and wait until they either make the problem go away or escalate the matter to whoever it is that gives them orders. In your experience, if it's a sufficiently important person doing the glaring, there's very few problems that this process can't punch through. Sure enough, it only takes a few escalations before you're pointed towards Thalheim, a minor farming town upriver of Wurtbad.
You have the Gyrocarriage drop you off in the hills nearby and travel in on Shadowsteed, and within a heavily-guarded manor that you have an unexpectedly tricky time infiltrating, you find the Elector Countess attending to a desk loaded with correspondence and reports. You also find her very heavily pregnant, so instead of simply fading back into visibility behind her and waiting for her to notice you, you leave the room and knock on the door. You're no expert on the vulnerabilities that pregnancy inflicts on a woman, and you've no interest in discovering for yourself if a sufficient fright can inflict any of them.
"Yes?" she says, and when you enter the room she puts away the blunderbuss she'd levelled at the door. "Ah, Dame Weber. I hope it wasn't too much trouble to pay me a visit."
"Not especially so," you reply. "What can I do for you?"
She gives you a level look, anticipating a question you won't give her the satisfaction of asking, and you look determinedly back. Yes, she's pregnant, and she's keeping it a secret, but she's not even the first Van Hal to let you in on this secret. Last time, she was the secret you were let in on. Eventually, she huffs and moves past it. "I felt it was right to warn you that there will not be another Van Hal on the throne of Stirland." You consider that and nod, not needing further elaboration, but she evidently feels the need to give it anyway. "Father's ambition was to finally bury the Vanhel legacy for good, to free the rest of the family from the grip it has always had on us. I've come to believe that replacing Vanhaldenschlosse with Eagle Castle doesn't achieve that. What needs to be done is that Sylvania needs to be brought down to the point where it can be kept suppressed by any competent administrator, and then allow the position to pass to someone with a blank enough slate that their victories will earn them glory, rather than just paying the interest on thirteen centuries of inherited shame."
"Understood," you say simply, more because she seems to be expecting an answer than because you had needed time to digest what she was saying.
"Have you," she begins asking, then stops. "I felt you deserved to know," she says finally. "You have been involved in this chapter of the long, sad story of Sylvania since it opened, and even after you were dismissed from it, your influence in it has been felt. I don't doubt that the chapter after mine will still feel your involvement."
You don't actually know how to respond to that. It makes you kind of glad that you have a way to completely derail the course of the conversation. "Well, in the interest of inheritance disclosures, there's a decent chance that you'll end up Emperor if Luitpold passes in the near future."
She stares at you, blinking as she recalculates. "Has something happened to the heir?"
"The same something as Wilhelmina's. He'll probably be going into the Bright Order. If Luitpold lasts long enough for Mandred to rack up some accolades he might still be able to make it work, but if the election happens while he's still an Apprentice, odds will be very against him."
"Okay, but why in the world would..." she falls silent, then sighs. "Because I'm an unmarried and apparently childless woman with an inoffensive pet cause. The ambitious think they might be able to marry me into their dynasty, the unambitious think that the power of the Emperor stamping down on Sylvania is preferable to the usual political or religious pet causes of nobility, and everyone thinks that if they put me on the throne, they or their heir will get another chance to properly exercise that power before too long, whereas anyone else as Emperor would have the inheritance locked down for their preferred heir. I'm a perfect compromise candidate if none of the others can get a clear lead."
"And on a non-cynical level, bringing Sylvania to heel is an impressive achievement. Even those that aren't cleared to know about the Alkharad situation, do know from the Emperor's decree that you must have stumbled across something that really needed killing."
"That... might actually change the situation," she says, drumming her fingers on the table and frowning. "Burying the family legacy is one thing, but being crowned Empress Van Hal for finally subjugating Sylvania would be a complete triumph over it." She hesitates, her eyes darting over to you as she considers whether to continue. "And a not inconsiderable personal vindication, as well," she admits.
"It might hurt your chances if a dynastic marriage isn't possible-"
"It's possible," she says. You stay silent for a moment, leaving space for elaboration that Roswita unabashedly leaves unfilled.
"Then you have a very powerful card to play," you continue. "The other most likely candidates are Talabecland and Ostermark, but you're more likely to be able to secure the Sigmarite votes, who would be looking for a candidate outside of the historical Wolf and Ottilian provinces. If you actually make moves towards it, you could line yourself up to be the nigh automatic choice, if timing renders the Holswig-Schliestein heir unsuitable."
She gives you a long look, that you mistake for thinking until she speaks. "What do you get out of telling me this?"
"Get?" You frown as you consider that. "Not having to spend time getting to know some other person if they become Emperor, I suppose. But really, what it comes down to is that I had information that you would be better off knowing than not knowing, and it cost me nothing to give it to you, so I gave it to you." Because it's what your father would have wanted me to do, you don't say, but she hears it nevertheless.
She looks at you for a long time, and you look back. There is a possible version of this conversation where you actually speak up here, and you have a very long and awkward conversation about what her father actually did mean to you, and what he might have meant to you if things had not gone so terribly wrong at Drakenhof, and, let's be honest here, if he also had a hitherto unsuggested predilection for insecure young Wizards who had only just begun to come into their own. But not only would that be an agonizingly awkward conversation to have, it would also be one that would expose the person you used to be. You quite like being the highly-skilled Wizard with the ear of many of the continent's movers and shakers, the shadowy figure only glimpsed out of the corner of one's eye as she watches events unfold with a knowing smile. You know that whatever it is that Roswita is imagining, it stars a slightly younger version of that take on yourself, rather than the fumbling, coltish young woman that Abelhelm was much more of a mentor to than anything else.
Part of you still flinches at the memory of Roswita so summarily banishing you from what had become your home, and that part of you quite likes that part of Roswita is still intimidated by what she imagines you to be and to have been. You don't want to give Roswita the ability to treat the younger version of yourself with the same contempt that part of you does.
So you remain silent, and let Roswita imagine whatever it is she imagines.
"Thank you," she finally says to you, and you just smile and nod.
- The dice for the duel at the Festival were rolled here. RIP to Oriouloc but apparently Kadoh's built different.
- Magical initiate and the Itilmar for books deal still to come.
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Oh, fuck, Empress Roswita?
We've been considering it for a while now.
- Location
- Red Blood on Golden Shield
M... I actually like that.
Roswita keeps the family name going, ( I feel that's one last favour we do to her father).
Her current child can inherit Stirland if she need to have a political marriage,
And meanwhile, whatever children does she have after being empress can inherit the empire...
It works out for everyone, so I am quite happy with it.
Roswita keeps the family name going, ( I feel that's one last favour we do to her father).
Her current child can inherit Stirland if she need to have a political marriage,
And meanwhile, whatever children does she have after being empress can inherit the empire...
It works out for everyone, so I am quite happy with it.
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chocolote12
A Penguin Flailing Against The Keyboard Of Life.
Well, I don't really know what Roswita was trying to say before we happened to her, but we did.
infinityDivided
Prince Of Doom
- Location
- USA
The hell
Mathilde setting up the table to win no matter what. If Mandred squeezes in somehow all well and good, if not shape the field so the other likely candidate also owes you for the chance.
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The idea was raised by Mathilde back when Mandred's magic became apparent, so it's not *that* surprising
.
- Location
- The Surface Of A Hostile Planet
Either of Mandred or Roswitta ending up as Emperor is one of the few things that would make me consider having Mathilde take a stab at becoming Supreme Matriarch. It would be a fun way to go full circle with the story, and once again be one advisor among many - just with much higher stakes this time.
If we pull off the Waystone project, combine that with the Orbs of Sorcery and Aetheric Vitae, brush up on our dueling without Branulhune, and spend some time on college politics to dissuade some of the potential challengers... Mathilde's got a shot I think.
If we pull off the Waystone project, combine that with the Orbs of Sorcery and Aetheric Vitae, brush up on our dueling without Branulhune, and spend some time on college politics to dissuade some of the potential challengers... Mathilde's got a shot I think.