Politics - Chapter One

"That'll be tupence now and another two when ya' come ta pick it up..." The man dropped the coins into Aedd's palm. "Are ya sure you don' wan' any fancy work on the hilt?"

"Nope."

"A'right. It'll be ready in two days time." Aedd said. The customer simply nodded and left.

Aedd turned back to his billows and began pumping air to bring the coals of his forge back to life. As he pulled down on the long handles, he contemplated his recent turn of fortune. This had been the eighth servant that had come asking for a sword in the last four days. Always it was the same order -- a lightweight iron long sword balanced for use, not for show. 'A few more of these strange customers,' he thought to himself, 'and I might be able to hire back my bellows boy.'

At that moment a man entered his small shop with a loud, "G'day Aedd!"

Aedd looked up from his billows to see his friend Bagga squeezing past the counter with a tankard in either hand. "G'day yerself!" he responded, and with a smile reached for one of the drinks in Bagga's hand.

"Tut, tut, my friend," said Bagga as he pulled the mug away from Aedd's outstretched hand. "I want you to know that you are about to have some of the finest ale to cross your lips in at least a score of years. An' I'll no' have you swigging it down without a tasting." With that he passed one of tall tankards over to Aedd, who immediately helped himself to good long sip.

"Whew, that's rich, eh!" said Aedd, helping himself to another draught.

"Aye. An' yer not goin' ta believe where I got it," said Bagga, taking a long pull on his tankard.

"Dunno. Can'nay be any of the louse ridden inns on this side of the King's road."

"But that's where yer wrong, Aedd." Bagga said with a smile. "I got it from the Swan."

"Get off it! The only thing that place's served o'er the last five summers is vinegar." Aedd screwed up his face. "An' bad vinegar at that."

"Aye. But that's where it's come from. Seems auld Swithen's either got 'imself a fool for a partner, or's found a chest of silver 'neath his bar. Ya should see the place! They've ripped out all the auld wood, washed the walls, an' rethatched the roof. Ya wouldn't a recognized it." Bagga took another long drink before continuing. "An' he's got 'imself a pair of them outlander girls working for 'im. Nice to look at, but they'd probably stick ya if ya gave 'em any trouble."

Bagga took a final pull from his cup. "Fine drink it is. But I'll not be having more 'til after me sup. You'll join me tonight at the Swan, Aedd?"

"Aye. An' I might even buy you a round, if I get any bloody work done after this," he said passing his now empty tankard to Bagga.

"'Til even then."

"'Til then."

As Bagga left, Aedd turned once again to his forge and pondered how to best create a surfeit of swords.

“A Reputation is Earned”
~ Gwilym - Knight / Duke of Glen Farr
~ Cedric - Gwilym’s companion / NPC
~ Bethan - Cedric’s Sister / NPC
~ Barton - Jewelry Store Owner / NPC

Gwilym and Cedric had been in the town of Dyfad for a week staying at the Frothy Mug with Bethan, Cedric’s sister. Cedric visited all his old companions and spent a lot of time with his sister. Gwilym spent most of his time walking the town and meeting the people. He earned himself a little bit of a reputation providing labor service whenever he saw an opportunity. Everyone seemed happy for his assistance and he enjoyed the various conversations he held during his labor. He also met Kazion on a daily basis. Kazion had taken a liking to Gwilym for ‘saving his life’ as he would tell his friends. Kazion would bring his friends around to meet Gwilym. In return for stories of the war between Mor Hafren and Plas Gorerddan, the boys would do small choirs for Gwilym like polishing his weapons and armor, feeding his horse, etc. Gwilym was pleased with this little arrangement and would give the boys a few pennies for their work. He even felt a bit at peace talking about the war. He still felt the pain, but just maybe he was finally showing signs of recovery.

It was early evening and the shops were closing for the day. Gwilym and Cedric were returning from a late afternoon ride when Gwilym spotted four men inside a shop with weapons pulled. They appeared to be harassing an elderly gentleman inside the story. Gwilym grabbed Cedric’s shoulder, pointed towards the store, and dismounted.

“Dat’s old man Barton’s jewelry store,” Cedric said as he dismounted as well.

The two pulled their weapons. Cedric, his trusty old battleaxe and Gwilym, a throwing axe. He placed his claymore and scabbard across his back. Without hesitation, they charged the door. Cedric crashed through it first and knocked the thief standing next to it to the ground. Gwilym followed and, once inside, let loose his axe hitting a second thief square in the chest. The third thief began to make his way around the counter towards Gwilym while the first thief pulled himself from the floor. Cedric also picked himself up. Gwilym drew his claymore and headed towards the third thief.

Cedric wasted no time. With axe in hand, he crouched to the floor and swiped the thief’s leg nearly lopping it off. The thief went down hard grabbing his injured leg. Cedric stood up, lifted the axe above his head, and swung it down across the man’s neck.

Gwilym didn’t have a lot of room to swing his claymore and saw the thief charge towards him with a short sword. There wasn’t any room to maneuver for either, so Gwilym held up his claymore like a lance. Initiating a charge of his own, the claymore pierced the abdomen of the oncoming thief.

The last thief immediately dropped his dagger. He placed his hands outward while dropping to his knees. “Please don’t kill me,” he begged. “I’m a thief no doubt, but I’m not a killer. I turn myself over to you for the authorities.”

Cedric went over to check on Barton. Gwilym went over to the thief. “pick up your friends and carry them outside.” He then walked over to one of the dead thieves and removed his axe. “I can split your skull from fifty feet so don’t even think about running.” The thief, with fear still in his eyes, began to remove his companions from the store.

A crowd of people began to gather from the commotion and started asking questions. Cedric was quick to tell everyone that Duke Gwilym had spotted the thieves and insist that they give aid to Barton. Gwilym backed up into the store again. He hated it when Cedric started spouting off at the mouth about ‘knight this’ and ‘duke that’. Barton was in the store as well and went up to Gwilym.

“Sir, please let me repay you for your kindness. I insist,” said Barton. “I see your crest engraved on the pummel of your sword. I wish to make you a ring with your crest. If that’ll be payment enough for you.”

“Barton, that would be payment enough for me and thank you. If you ever have trouble like this again. Seek me. I am staying with Cedric and Bethan at the Frothy Mug Tavern.” With that said, Gwilym bowed and turned to the front door. He could still see Cedric out there. He was still entertaining the crowd. “Barton …. Do you have a back door?”

Barton smiled. He could tell that Gwilym didn’t want this attention in any way. “Aye, sir, follow me.” Cedric arrived at the tavern about an hour later. He found Bethan and Gwilym eating some fresh stew. He didn’t say a word. He found a huge bowl, filled it, sat with them, and started eating. He knew Gwilym wasn’t happy about his speech, but that was the part about it he loved the most. He would look up from time to time with a smile on his face. Gwilym on the other hand wasn’t smiling too much which made him smile some more. Gwilym knew better than to say anything because Cedric would just play stupid with that ‘what did I do’ look on his face. Bethan looked at the two. She figured it better to start cleaning the table.

“You know, Gwilym, After yer first incident wit dat aristocratic gentleman. Dis is goin’ to add to your small reputation in dis town. I just wanted ta make sure dat it twas a good one. Dat’s all.” Gwilym just mumbled. He didn’t feel like discussing it.

“I have something I been wantin’ ta speak ta you about,” was Cedric’s next comment. Gwilym thought this strange. He never wanted to talk about things of importance. “There be some rumors flyin’ about of a war in da horizon wit Nethbo. I am not in da mood fer anymore wars, but dis is me homeland. I am enlistin’ in da mornin’ wit me friends.” He waited to let Gwilym ponder what he had just said.

“You’ve been my companion and friend for four years now. I guess this is where the road splits. I have wanted to go to Alhan anyways. I have a feeling I’ll be around for a long time. I have heard good things about this errant king. He has good weight with the people. I believe this is the man my father meant for me to serve, if he’ll let me. I wish to honor my father even in his death.”

“Well, Gwilym, I’ve been witcha fer four years as ya said. I don’t know a man who wouldn’t be happy to have yer services. I believe you are making yer pa proud.”

Hearing all of this news, Bethan went into the back and grabbed three bottles of nicely aged wine. The three of them drank in celebration for the rest of the night.

Return to Sender...
~ Pwyll ap Llywarch - Outlander
~ Tyngyr - npc
~ Swithen - npc

The Swan was no longer looking like the ugly duckling of the city. In fact, at this particular time of the day, it was hard to even see the Swan at all, concealed as it was behind a large pile of rubbish on it's front step and a large cloud of dust and grime that billowed out from inside. Tyngyr waited patiently for the cleaners to finish evacuating the common room of the last remnants of dirt, before stepping across the threshold and examining the scene before him.

The transformation of the Swan had been impressive, but not miraculous. The decaying furniture had been replaced by stout wooden benches, chairs and tables, all sensibly arranged around the newly seated fire pit. The formerly urine stained wattle walls were now washed with new lime, and looking up, one could see that new thatch had been laid to cover previously rotted holes. But perhaps the most obvious change was actually the atmosphere of the common room -- where before there had been the unwholesome pong of rat feces and vomit, there was now the fine smell of newly laid rushes and roast venison coming from the kitchen.

Tyngyr hummed quietly to himself, impressed with how quickly the tavern had begun to take on its new form. Very good, very good, he thought proudly. A loud sneeze from behind reminded him of the presence of his manservant, and the real reason for his visit. "Come," he ordered, setting off for the bar to interrogate the proprietor without waiting for a response. Several loud sniffles would have been his only answer.

Swithen had not yet noticed Tyngyr's approach. He was too busy placing new bottles of wine and mead on the shelves behind the counter, chortling over his good fortune like a beggar leers over a shilling. Tyngyr came to a halt next to one of the stools, clasping his hands behind his back and waiting patiently for the old man to notice him. When Swithen did not immediately oblige, he cleared his throat.

"Oh! Pardon mi'lord," Swithen said as he turned to look at the obviously wealthy gentleman standing before him. It had been so long since Swithen had seen a man of such social standing that he was at a lost as to what to do.

Tyngyr always dressed to fit his mood. Today's ensemble was a free-flowing expression of jubilance, featuring a fine blue tabard with gold thread over a bright yellow undertunic and silk shift. He wore his coif off his head, revealing a neatly trimmed head of blond hair shaved close to the sides of his head. Finding beards troublesome to the ladies, he had compromised and kept his moustache, which also served in part to cover up most of a scar that ran across the top left corner of his thin mouth. Being in a jolly mood, he shot Swithen a smile. "I wish to speak with Pwyll ap Llywarch, please!"

"Um..." Swithen stalled for a heartbeat. He knew that his business arrangement with Pwyll was supposed to be a closely kept secret, but since this gentleman obviously knew that the outlander would be found here, he must be in Pwyll's confidences. "One moment sir," he said, motioning to a young outlander serving girl who had just emerged from the kitchen. "Please fetch master Pwyll, Gwyn." As Swithen turned again to face the gentleman his tavern owner's instincts took hold. "Can I offer you a small drink mi'lord?"

"Nay my good man," Tyngyr replied. "Business first, consumption afterwards. Besides which, I shan't be very long." He stepped away from the bar, and waited patiently while looking around the room at the decor. Not quite to his taste, but a damn sight better than what he had been told of. Perhaps if he was shattered and in the presence of the most buxom of wenches, he could even grow to tolerate it. His manservant sneezed again and shifted the hessian-covered load in his arms uncomfortably. Tyngyr deliberately ignored the annoyance.

After a short while Pwyll emerged from an inconspicuous door that separated the common room from the better quality, or rather soon to be better quality, private dining salons. Not knowing quite what to expect, he had taken the precaution of making sure the rear entrance to the Swan was free of any obstructions such as timber, barrels or waiting armed men. As he entered the common room he saw the fop and his servant at the serving counter, and was genuinely puzzled. "Swithen. You wanted to see me?" he said, approaching the bar.

"I'm the man who's here to do that!" said Tyngyr cheerfully. "I am Tyngyr good sir." At this point he executed a graceful bow. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. This 'boy' is my lackey who is not worthy enough to be mentioned again, apart from saying he keeps his mouth shut. And I am here to make you a proposal. It is entirely up to your own discretion whether or not you are crazy enough to refuse." His eyes glittered brightly.

"I'm always open to proposals that I would be crazy to refuse." Pwyll replied with a suspicious air. "But I warn you mi'lord, there is little I could offer a personage of your obvious standing." Pwyll thought it best to adhere to the old adage, 'When in doubt, flatter the bastard'.

"Ahh, but quite the contrary good sir," Tyngyr countered. "You have demonstrated an ability to... acquire things; items of value, information, even friends. In fact, I even suspect that this place will become quite the hive of activity once it is finished and opened for business. A business that we would like to utilize as well." He cast a glance about and then pointed at a nearby table. "Duf!"

"Aye sir," sniffed the young man. He dumped his armful of cloth to one edge of the table with a muffled clunk, and stepped back.

Tyngyr never missed a beat, giving Pwyll no opportunity to interject until he was finished. "I need this delivered," he stated. "I believe its owner is quite anxious to have it returned to him, and I am glad to oblige. Why you?" Pwyll tried to open his mouth, but was cut off. "Good question. One, you know the person, and two, it's very important that he gets this, which is why we would entrust you with it. Perhaps money is of little importance to you, but five shillings should cover your expenses for any time you may lose. If you take this small task, and keep our arrangements private and discreet, I can guarantee you that it will lead to bigger, better and more profitable things. Nothing of course," he quickly added, "that would compromise your business in any way." He drew breath.

"Swithen. Would you excuse us for a moment," Pwyll said, then indicated for Tyngyr to have a seat at a table somewhat away from the bar.

"Umm... Not a problem sir," Swithen replied as he reluctantly resumed placing bottles on the shelves.

After the two had seated themselves Pwyll asked, "Am I to understand that this item was 'lost' by the gentleman in question, and now it must be returned in order to prevent any... difficulties?" He glanced at the long narrow bundle on the other table. Based on Tyngyr's appearance, Pwyll suspected that the item probably belonged to someone at court, otherwise why come to him?

Tyngyr looked thoughtful for a handful of seconds. "Let me rephrase that... 'Borrowed' is a term that more easily comes to mind. Besides which, I think you already know who owns it, and what it would mean to them if it were returned. Why it was borrowed, and for what purpose, I must admit I am not that well informed. Though I have been told it is a goodwill gesture for the owner, despite any reluctance for being identified as such. Any more than that, I cannot say."

Tyngyr's cryptic remarks confirmed Pwyll's suspicion as to the bundle's contents. "Returning the item to the one-armed knight presents no great challenge. What will be difficult is explaining how it came to be in my hands." Pwyll looked again at the package and an idea slowly crept into his head. "I'll accept your offer. Your five shillings will cover my expenses nicely, and I will try and be as discreet as possible..." Pwyll, smiling, rose to shake the hand of Tyngyr. As he held the man's hand in his, Pwyll added, "But know this Tyngyr... If any harm should befall the knight as a result of this, I will find you."

Despite Pwyll's promise, Tyngyr could do little to hide the slight upturn in the corner of his mouth. "You have nothing to concern yourself over my good man. And it pleases me that we have approached just the right person for the job." He reached into a pouch under his belt and pulled out five pieces of silver, depositing them on the table in a neat pile. "I look forward to doing business with you again," he said, ending off with a smooth and practiced bow. With lackey in tow, he turned around and strolled out of the Swan at a leisurely pace.

As he watched the dandy and his lackey leave the room, Pwyll picked up the coin and went over to the table on which the bundle lay. His suspicions as to the contents were confirmed when he unwrapped the muslin covering to reveal the hilt of a light long sword inset with an emerald -- the signet of Sir Amlyn. Rewrapping the handle, Pwyll walked back towards the bar with the covered sword. Passing one of the shillings to Swithen, he said with a smile, "Here's a little coin to help you forget what you have seen, and to remember anything said of this Tyngyr or his lackey in the future." Swithen returned the smile and laid his finger along the side of his nose in a knowing gesture.

Pwyll returned to one of the dining salons in the rear of the Swan in order to examine the sword in private. He remained suspicious of Tyngyr and felt a detailed look at the weapon would be a prudent thing. Upon removing the fabric swath that clothed the sword, Pwyll was stunned. The sword appeared to be a single complete piece of metal. There were no inscriptions, engravings or decorations of any type on the sword itself, apart from a single, large emerald set into the crosspiece created by the guard and hilt. It was as though the weapon had been cast as a single piece, with the emerald almost fused into the molten metal. Lifting the perfectly polished weapon by the handle, Pwyll was struck by the lightness of the blade, as well as its unusual weighting -- more towards the pommel than the blade. A few deft strokes with the blade confirmed the weighting and revealed that the blade was slightly shorter in length than was normal for a longsword. 'This is exactly the weapon required,' thought Pwyll, as he moved to examine the handle and pommel closely for any alterations. In all, the piece seemed without defect or change -- it was very much a simple if highly unusual weapon.

Completing his examination, Pwyll sat back and asked himself the obvious question, 'Here is a strange weapon, and I can see why someone would covet it, but why take it in the first place only to return it later? A copy? Difficult, but not impossible. To alter it? Perhaps, but if so, it would almost certainly have to have been the artist that created it. Puzzles within puzzles. I need to know more about this Tyngyr, and about whom he's working for.' Wrapping the sword again in its muslin sheath, Pwyll concluded to himself, "A little light will cut the dark better than any sword."

Love Comes First
~ Dierdre, High Knight of Fire Diedre
~ Squire Seth McCullen

Deirdre smiled as Seth entered the library; she had found herself actually looking forward to their daily meetings. Although she did find it difficult to continually challenge her squire, the work was worth it. He was strengthening both in body and mind; maybe... just maybe he would survive this joust after all, she thought wryly to herself, unable to suppress the stab of pride she experienced as well.

"On time, as always, Seth," she remarked, putting the quill she had been scribbling with down. "How did your readings go last eve?"

"Well Deirdre. I read all of the texts you gave me and I soaked in all of the information I believe." He smiled and knew he should tell her about all of the recent developments, but that will wait until they are alone.

"Good," she nodded, settling back into her role as teacher. It was starting to become a comfortable position, she realized suddenly; it was an unnerving thought. She had always been a woman of action, not of books. But she had truly been enjoying her time studying and teaching Seth - and learning from him as well, although she would never give him the satisfaction of knowing it, she thought wryly.

"Perhaps you would like to impart some of that knowledge you had just learned, then," she smiled, settling back in her wooden chair. "Name the elements of the world."

"Fire, Earth, Water, and Wind," he said with a smile. He had really enjoyed all of these sessions with Deirdre. It was very fun and challenging which only added to the excitement of it all. He would have to wait until they were officially done to ask her to follow him out privately so he could tell her the news.

His teacher either didn't recognize or ignored his eagerness to finish the lesson, however. She drilled him on the sciences - today's lesson plan - everything from how each element was contained in every object to botany. They finished their discussion in the gardens, going over Deirdre's limited knowledge of the plants.

"I may send you to one of the healers for more help than I've been," she smiled, then stood from where she had been searching for a leaf. "But you should have the rest of the day to yourself." Seth started with the surprise at the announcement of a vacation - usually Deirdre left him with a pile of readings and exercises to occupy him the entire evening. "I expect to see you bright and early tomorrow morning, though," she warned with a smile.

He smiled and said, "Thank you, Deirdre. I hope I did well by your standards?" He asked hoping this was the case. He would then ask if he could speak to her as a friend privately.

Deirdre tossed him a quizzical look. "Do you really believe I wouldn't have informed you if it wasn't?" she retorted, her lips curving into a wry smile. She looked him up and down, then an eyebrow on her carved features raised. "If that isn't acceptable, I can assign you more work to do..."

He raised his hands and said, "No, that was plenty. May we speak alone and as friends and not squire and knight?" He asked as he moved close to her and in kind of a whispered tone. He smirked and hoped she would accept.

The look of surprise on her face as she stepped back automatically was not feigned. Although she had enjoyed her time teaching this man, she had never considered their friendship. Did Seth truly consider her a 'friend'?, she wondered, the thought rare to her mind. Her own friends were few and far between, but as she examined Seth's eager eyes, she couldn't help but answer, "Of course, Seth." She smiled then. "What is on your mind?"

"Well, it is a secret and I am only telling you because I believe I can trust you as much as I would anyone. Please swear never to tell a soul until I return, but Lady Bronwen and I are eloping. We will be gone for a week or so. Please do not tell a soul. I am trusting you with our lives, I know that the trust is not misplaced. I do not believe it is, but I thought you would like to know," he said with a serious look on his face as he looked into her eyes asking if she was trustworthy of this knowledge.

Her face, however, was as blank as a stone wall. Without a word, she pulled him into a corner, her eyes staring past him with an intensity that would burst the very bushes into flame. Too soon, that gaze turned on him.

"Have you told anyone besides Bronwen of this plan?" she asked powerfully. All he was able to manage was a nod before she suddenly shook him violently, her fists grasping the material of his cloak with deadly strength. "Are you mad, boy?" she asked vehemently between clenched teeth. "Or do you simply wish to remove your head from your shoulders sooner rather than later? Eloping with the princess is _not_ a way to ingratiate yourself with her family, nor is it something a true knight would do!" Forcing her fists open, she let him go, but fire still burned in her emerald orbs.

"I kept you on as my squire even as you took the purity from the princess of the land. But I _cannot_ in good conscience defend you when you return." Her face darkened, but a shadow of sadness touched the darkness. "I will not speak of your secret, Seth. But your training as a squire ends when you leave." The finality - and regret - were clear in the sentence.

Seth was in shock at this new very unexpected news. It was obvious he was in complete and total shock. He had expected her to give him a scolding look or something, but nothing of this magnitude. He simply nodded his head and said, "Love comes first." He smiled and said, "Goodbye for now."

Deirdre watched him leave, her arms hanging by her sides helplessly. She was filled with a deep sense of disappointment. He could have been a good knight. A very good one. She shook her head and wandered off, suddenly needing a very strong drink. She felt as if she had lost a battle today, and the joy of having such a squire that had filled her this morning was completely wiped away.

Sanctuary
~ In the presence of Regent Hawk, Queen Mother Isa, Lord Iowerth, and other concerned nobles, knights, ladies and people of the court of Abertawe...

A short and slender man in long, brown woollen robes entered the chamber. He paid little attention to the assembled crowd of nobles and interested onlookers, but made straight for the far end of the large crimson rug, walking slowly but deliberately. He halted before the seat of power occupied by Hawk, and bowed from the waist. His garments bore no markings of any sort, but a cross of silver hung from a thin leather thong on the outside of his clothing.

"Your Highness," he began. "My name is Father Niddian. I recently served the one god as guidance for the faithful in the province of Nethbo. As we speak, factions within that province clash in fighting over the failures of their unprovoked attacks upon your borders. The seeds of unrest and self-destruction have been sown by others seeking power, and as always seems to happen in wars, the innocent suffer. I have come seeking your assistance, for I have in my care the family and children of many of the noble houses of Nethbo who were at risk of being murdered."

A wave of whispers rippled through the great hall. As if on cue, the forlorn figures of young children began to trickle through the large doors to the chamber. Behind them walked their older siblings, none appearing to be any older than perhaps their late teens. All looked weary and frightened.

"We have no choice but to cast ourselves upon your mercy and generosity, your highness. We have been threatened and abused during our travel here by people in Abertawe who have been hurt cruelly by the war. They know no better than to avenge themselves against the defenseless, but this would only serve to deepen the pain that we all have suffered. I humbly ask for a sanctuary of peace, that we may all wait out the storm that rages in their home. The one god's compassion is so great that he would turn away none who seek his help and hand; so it is that I pray you are blessed with that kindness of spirit as well."

Hawk felt sad that his people would be so narrow minded. Nethbo had been the enemy, but these were innocent children. He came to his feet. "Of course you are welcome here, and I will make sure that you are safe. Your God is not the only one who is compassionate, our gods welcome you here. Settle yourself first, then you and I will talk." He motioned to his mother, who now came forward to take charge of the frightened children.

The relief that overcame the young priest was obvious to any who were watching him closely. "On behalf of all of the families involved, I thank you greatly," said Father Niddian. "I look forward to speaking with you again."

As the priest and his followers left, hawk turned to his adviser, Alterian. "You and I have to talk about this." Maybe in this there was a way to avoid further war.

Letters of Preparation
~ Squire Seth McCullen

Seth had written out the letter to a priest he had heard about. He enclosed in the letter that this would be completely secret and must be kept quiet. He had heard this man had done this from other people he had spoken to around Abertawe. He knew those people to be trustworthy, so he didn't doubt them either.

He sent the letter with a messenger who was said to be fast. The letter icnluded when they would arrive and where they would meet. he had also included a second letter to a inn with some money to make sure that their room was held and looked good. He knew that this was all a big risk, but he only hoped it would all work out. he loved Bronwen and that was all that mattered in the end. He looked over himself for the first time in some while and noticed how much larger in muscle and in size. He realized that he must of gone through a growing spurt during all of that. It was his one last growth most likely.

He knew in the end it dind't matter to brownen, but he hoped she would be happy with him. He loved her so much that she just encompassed his entire being. He smiled thinking about her. he entered his room and slept knowing that he would need it.

"The Journey Begins"
~ Gwilym – Knight
~ Cedric – NPC
~ Bethan – NPC
~ Kazion - NPC

Gwilym Stood at the entrance to the Frothy mug and stared at his friends Cedric and Bethan. ‘I’m gonna miss them’ he thought to himself.

As if she was reading his mind, she spoke "We aren’t that far away. Stop by from time ta time and let me know how yer doin’. I’m not good at goodbyes so ya both get ta movin’ ya hear." With that said, she kissed them both on the cheek and walked towards the kitchen. At the doorway she paused, "Cedric, you come back home ta me" and continued into the kitchen.

Gwilym smiled at Cedric and extended his hand, "We’ll meet up again my friend. If not together on the battlefield, then in here with a mug in one hand and a pipe in the other."

Cedric smiled back at Gwilym and took his hand, "Who knows, maybe I’ll come visit ya da the capitol. That be where the king’s knights reside. You go and make yer pa proud."

They walked out together to where their horses were tied. Gwilym got up on his horse and looked to Cedric. Cedric paused for a moment, pulled out his sword, and saluted Gwilym. "T’was an honor to serve with you Duke Gwilym of Glen Farr." Gwilym withdrew his sword, saluted back, sheathed his sword, and began to ride off when he spotted Kazion running up.

"Sir," Kazion spit out as he took in a lung full of air. He apparently had been running for quite some time, "I have brought the ring made you by old man Barton." He reached up to hand Gwilym the ring. Gwilym took it in his hand and examined it. The ring was quite beautiful. After his examination, he slip it on his right hand ring finger. He glanced at Kaz who seemed to be a little nervous.

"What is it, Kaz, that I can help you with."

"Sir, I wish to be your squire. I have always dreamt of being a knight. You’re the first one I’ve met, and now I wish to be just like you."

"How old are you son?"

"I’m ten, sir"

"I’ll tell you what, let me go to Alhan. En route, I’ll think on this. If I’m accepted as a knight and I choose to accept a squire now, I’ll come back for you. We’ll speak with you’re parents where you will provide me with a very detailed explanation of what you feel it means to be a knight. This will include duties and responsibilities. You will also explain to me why you are worthy to be a knight. If I do not accept you’re answer or you’re parents do not agree, then you’ll not be accepted. Is this a deal?"

"Oh yes sir, I agree." Kaz had a grin that could be seen from the clouds and he bounced away to go tell his friends.

Gwilym watched Kaz running down the road and remembered when his father said he was going to begin Gwilym’s training. That was definitely on the list of ‘greatest days to remember’. Gwilym gave a little chuckle, spurred his horse and trotted out of the Dyfad.

Gwilym had spent the night at a wayside inn en route to Alhan. He spent a good part of the afternoon and evening polishing his armor and looking over his dress attire. He had never met this king and wasn’t sure what to expect, but he was going to set a good first impression. As he crossed a hillside on the road to Alhan, he had to pause and marvel at this great city. It was a magnificent looking palace. He only had one other capital to compare this to, but there was really no comparison to be made. With its tall, strong looking structures and fabulous craftsmanship, this was the kind of place kids dreamt of. He started feeling nervous. How was he to compare to the knights of this land? Surely a palace such as this places a lot of coin into the training of its knights. Then he remembered his father and knew that if he did not go through with this, everything his father taught him would be for nothing.

"Career choices"
~ Avalynn ui Rylliach
~ Sir Amlyn
~ Squire Nia

"Are you paying attention?"

"Huh?" Nia's head jerked up from her hand with a start. At the sudden noise, several of the swallows she had been watching in a willow tree took flight. The disturbance resonated down through long trailing branches, gently breaking the water of the small pond beneath and sending ripples out accross its surface. "Oh!"

"Oh," Amlyn echoed. "A vowel. Very good, but unfortunately not a consonant that the answer requires." He sat back down again and wondered if he had ever been this inattentive. Studying in the garden had seemed like a good idea yesterday: provide a change of environment to keep Nia on her toes and reduce the level of frustration (for all involved). Instead, the gentle breeze that managed to make it's way into the castle grounds somehow wafted through her ears and filled her head with distractions. If it wasn't the people occasionally strolling through, it would be the songs of the birds, or even just looking at the flowers from afar. "Concentrate, Nia."

She looked accross at him with the faint sulky pout to her mouth that he had become all too familiar with. "Yes my lord."

They returned to the lesson. But after what could only have been several minutes, Amlyn got the feeling that he was working with thin air once again. He shot Nia a dark look, but then he saw that she was looking behind him, a curious expression on her face. He turned around to see what she was staring at. "Who is that?" she asked.

Standing beneath the stone archway was a dark-haired outlander, a lovely contradiction in the deep crimson gown she wore. Her hands were clasped behind her back, and her sienna gaze was not without a glimmer of curiosity. Although the woman was no fighting machine, she stood tall among the people of Abertawe, and she stood with an air of strength.

She had heard the young squire's question and took the liberty of answering it, though her warm expression was certainly directed to the elder knight. "I am Avalynn, daughter of Rylliach. I saw you from my room above. I have not interrupted, I hope," she said, obviously having mastered the speaking value of the language. "What is it you discuss?" Unknowing of Nia's apprenticeship and future career, the outlander finally shifted her smile toward the squire. It was genuine, for she had faith in Nia's instructor.

Amlyn rose to his feet, the look of annoyance in the wandering attention of his squire replaced by his normal stoic blankness... except perhaps for a softness around his eyes. She looked stunning. "No my lady, you have not." Nia was slightly slower to get up from her chair, still somewhat embarrassed from the realisation that she had been overheard. She performed an awkward curtsey. "This is my squire, Nia," said Amlyn.

"Ma'am." Nia murmured. She had always imagined outlanders to be small and wiry folk, but Avalynn certainly dispelled that perception.

The outlander responded with a slight bow, a dark lock of hair straying from behind her ear. "A pleasure," she said, observing the squire in turn. She had heard whispers of women knights and female guards and thought the concept interesting indeed... but she wondered what it took to assume such an occupation.

"I am teaching Nia how to read," said Amlyn. "It seems we are destined to make slow progress this morning, for many reasons."

"Oh?" Avalynn's interest was peaked. "Perhaps I can join the lesson? I had begun learning to read and write some time ago... but I wasn't given an opportunity to finish my studies," she said, an eager tone to her voice. Having always been fond of languages, she would dash for the chance to fulfill her knowledge of the local art. For writing, and thus reading, she felt, was truly an art. Already, the woman was making her way toward the extra chair that remained outside for such purposes. As an afterthought she added playfully, "I promise I will make a good student, Sir Amlyn."

"...I don't see why not, although I cannot guarantee that I make a good teacher," Amlyn said slowly. He glanced at Nia, and caught her giving him a strange stare, which he ignored. "We are still going through the alphabet at this stage," he added.

"Perfect. I could really use the review... I'm not sure I remember anything." The outlander drew the chair up to Nia's and seated herself.

Nia wasn't quite sure how to act. She was beginning to realise that Amlyn and Avalynn had met previously, although she could not recall having seen her before. She sat back down and said nothing, grateful at least that Amlyn wasn't having the same effect on Avalynn as he seemed to have on Deirdre.

Aware of the squire's discomfort, the outlander passed her an encouraging smile. "You can just call me Ava," she near-whispered before returning her attentions to Amlyn so that he might continue with the lesson.

As the morning progressed, Amlyn found Nia to be more attentive in the presence of the lady-in-waiting. Perhaps it was manners, but he guessed more likely than not it was simple curiosity. Like a turtle retracted into its shell, every now and then she would poke her head out and open up a bit more. Towards noon-time Amlyn finished up, confident at least that Nia finally had a grip on the alphabet entirely. Now the hard work making words would begin.

As Amyln began to gather up the scattered pieces of parchment from the rough wooden desk, Nia turned in her chair to face Avalynn. "Ma'a- Ava," Nia corrected herself. "May I ask a question?"

"Of course," replied the outlander as she rose from her seat to stretch her stiffened limbs.

"I have not seen you about the castle before. What do you do here?"

Amlyn answered for her, as he stuffed the notes into a large leather pouch. "Avalynn is a lady-in-waiting to the Queen mother..."

"Really!?" she exclaimed. "That must be so exciting!" She could barely hide the interest in her voice, and her eyes suddenly became so much brighter.

Avalynn resisted the yen to scoff. Instead, she behaved herself, carefully selecting her words. "At times, perhaps... and there are some privileges that come with the position, but for the most part, I don't do much of anything. I would think that being a squire is far more interesting," she commented, dragging her chair toward the place where she had found it.

Nia had a brief flashback to the battle at Tamith, where she had watched much of the slaughter unfold. "It is not quite all I had imagined it to be," she said simply. "I did not expect it to be so..." At a loss for words, she just shrugged, and began to play around with her fingers.

Amlyn recognised the fidgeting and frowned. "Nia," he said. "Go and get something to eat from the kitchen. Be at the training grounds in an hour after you've finished." She nodded absentmindedly and curtsied before Avalynn. "Ma'am." She wasted no time in walking away, obviously troubled. Amlyn seemed to share some of her distress in the way he watched her go, a look of concern on his face.

Nor was the outlander blind to the young squire's subtle behaviors, so when Nia had left the gardens, she passed Amlyn a questioning, apologetic look. "I seem to have disturbed her... it was not my intention..."

He did not answer at first, as his mind was elsewhere..."Nay Ava. She has had a difficult few months. Each day I am impressed in new and different ways about her stubborness and strength of will, but... sometimes I think she just gets overwhelmed by it all." He sighed. "I - " He was going to say how much he wished that she would just give up her desire become a knight. But he stopped as he realised he would be confessing his own wishes and fears, foolish enough as they were." -you did well this morning," he finished lamely.

But the outlander did not acknowledge his attempted compliment. "I suppose it must be difficult for Nia at times, as there seems to be little threat of war within the city itself," she sympathized. "Where I lived, the threat was always present. The women did not become knights, perhaps, but even I would fight alongside the men to preserve my home." The expression in Avalynn's eyes was one of detachment, as it is often when one engages in the recollection of many detailed memories. For a moment she stood, carrying neither grief nor gaiety, but the moment passed quickly, and with onset of a deep breath, she redirected her comments toward the lesson. "I shall see you tomorrow to begin writing?"

Amlyn had not seen anything up to now to doubt Avalynn's words about fighting. He was momentarily taken aback however, by her interest in further sessions. It was something unconsidered until now. "Aye," his mouth said, before his brain could take hold. I guess that addressed the issue he thought to himself, and bowed. "Until tomorrow."

Forcing a small smile, Ava returned the gesture and strode toward the arched exit. "Good day, Sir Amlyn," she said in farewell. Hopefully next time would be more pleasant.

“First Introductions”
~ Gwilym – Knight
~ Alterian – NPC

Gwilym wasted no time. He entered the gates of the city and stayed on the main road as it headed up to the palace. He admired all of the buildings and shops along the way. Judging from the street life, people appeared happy here. He thought this a good sign of the king that his people were satisfied. At the palace entrance stood two guards.

“May I help you sir,” asked the first guard.

“Aye, my name is Sir Gwilym ap Gavin, and I would like to meet whom ever is in charge when it comes to acknowledging my presence in this wondrous land to the courts.”

“Wait here,” stated the guard who the called for a messenger. He was sent down the hall to get a gentleman named Alterian.

Alterian was handling minor affairs of court for the King. It seemed his health, the death of his uncle, the fall of his sister and the illness of the little princess had taken its toll. Even now, Hawk was with the Healer and his young son, relearning the role of a father. He looked up as the page announced his next visitor.

"Yes Master Alterian, there is a gentleman here by the name of Sir Gwilym ap Gavin of Mor Hafren. He wishes to meet the king," The young page stood at the entrance of Alterian's room silent, yet with a body language that said there was more.

"The King is occupied. Bring him here." Alterian ordered without looking up from his figures.

"Yes sir," and the page left.

Out front, Gwilym stood patiently wondering what was to take place. He was excited to meet this new king. He had heard good things about the king from the general populace and they seemed pretty happy. Gwilym hoped this king would be the kind of man his father told him to serve. Only time would tell.

"Sir Gwilym," said the page, "If you'd follow me please."

"Lead on, son." Gwilym followed behind the page through palace. After a few minutes, the page stopped at a door.

"Master Alterian, Sir Gwilym ap Gavin of Mor Hafren." The page then stepped aside and motioned for Gwilym to enter. Gwilym followed suit and stepped inside where he saw Alterian.

"Hello, Master Alterian," said Gwilym as he politely bowed. "I wish an audience with King Hawke that I could make my presence know in this land. I search for a man who has the respect of his people. I hear that such a man is your king. I would honorably and faithfully serve such a man, if he would let me."

"Our King Regent prepares for his coronation. I fear that he cannot meet with you until that ceremony is complete." Alterain stood. "I hope you will understand, but proper preparations must be made in the heart and mind before one accepts the responsibilities of rule. However, may I extend my King's hospitality and welcome in his stead?"

“Thank you very much Alterian. I understand completely and hope to meet with the king when time permits. There isn’t, by chance, some way I could be of help is there? Also, I’ve just arrived in Alhan and wondered if you could tell me of a decent living establishment that I may settle into?”

"From Mor Hafren, hmm, actually there may be a way for you to be of great assistance to the King. We have refugees from our enemy's lands. They have asked for asylum. The Queen Mother is afraid that our own people will not be as gracious as the King who granted them asylum. Perhaps you would be interested in helping protect this group?" Alterian watched the man closely. If he was a fame seeker and rejected such a position, then he would be of little interest to the King.

Gwilym pondered this situation a moment. Being a stranger in a strange land, he would be unbiased in protecting these refugees. He also could hear his father’s words in the back of his head telling him to always protect the innocent. “Alterian, I would be honored to oblige in this current situation. May I ask how grave the entire situation is? A dear friend of mine enlisted in the militia because of rumors of possible war in the future with Nethbo. Is this all a part of that conflict?”

We lost a great deal of men during the battle at the border. But Nethbo now struggles within as well as without. However, the feeling against any of that province are running very high. I will take you to meet with the priest?" Alterian indicated the door.

“That would be fine. Am I to quarter with the priest and these refugee?” Gwilym asked as he headed towards the door. In his mind he thought about the compassion this king must have for the innocent as well. He felt happy to be serving already.

"That we will decide after you speak with the priest?" Alterian led the way out the door. Perhaps chaos could be avoided after all?

The Queen's Guidance"
~ Lady Isa
~ Father Niddian (npc)
~ The children of Nethbo (npc)

After ushering the children back out of the hall, Father Niddian turned to the queen mother, and gave a weak smile. "I am incapable of telling you how much this means to all of us," he began. "None of the children were sure of what fate the Lord had in store for them should they come here to Abertawe. It seems he is still watching out for us, and we have the good Regent to thank for this. Perhaps," he added, with a note of optimism, "this may be the start of better things to come for both provinces, once word reaches the affected families of what has happened here."

"It is not fair to visit the ills of a few on innocent children. But I should warn you, many will not be receptive. You should stick together until we can win the people around you over." Isa cautioned.

"I understand, your Highness," Niddian said. "All that we really require is some assistance to find a safe, clean place to rest and feed the children. And perhaps, at the risk of sounding too demanding, a small escort to guard over them until then. There have been threats, and while I believe that we would be taken care of by the lord regardless, I... do not want to risk anything happening to anyone under my care if it could be avoided. My apologies if I have offended."

"Aye, that will be best. I will see if the King will assign Lady Quarra and perhaps a few others of his elite guard. I would not wish to consign you to the hands of someone less discerning." Isa smiled. "Let us see to the feeding of these children?" It was more of an order and she led the way to the servant's hall were trestle tables abounded and left them there while she ordered generous food to be laid before them.

For the most part, the children seemed to move about in a daze. While it had been some time since leaving their homes and risking the dangers of travel between two warring countries, many still bore harsh emotional scars of having to leave their families to an uncertain future. Some, however, seemed to take a guiding hand to the rest. One boy in particular approached the Queen mother with some hesitation, and bowed. He appeared in his early teens, strong but lithe, and while he was somewhat dirty and dishevelled he carried about him a presence and strength. He said nothing, but as he rose up to turn away, Isa saw in his eyes conflicting passions; hatred, confusion, uncertainty, and perhaps respect.

Isa waited until the young man had moved away. "Who was that young man, Father?" He could not have been much younger than Brendan.

Niddian turned away from what he was doing and looked at the lad. "His name is Cynwal, your highness," he said somewhat reluctantly. "One of the many sons of the nobles of Nethbo. A bright young person with difficult issues to overcome. He is a solid pillar amongst these children and I think he bears much of the weight that others cannot." He grasped subconsciously at the cross around his neck, for reassurance. "May his future be full of promise."

"Which noble?" Isa pressed watching him closely. He indeed seemed to be a leader amongst the children. Soon all were eating or being served and it was obvious that the children were hungry.

The priest looked about the room suddenly nervous. "I should not presume as much," he said in a low whisper. "But... would I have your confidence in this matter? It is critically important let me assure you." His hand had closed into a tight grip around his cross.

Isa nodded. "I will give you my assurance of a still tongue."

He chewed on his lower lip and casted a concerned glance over the gathered young of Nethbo. "He is the second son of King Dafydd, your highness," he murmured. "And over there -" he nodded to a small young girl of about eight, with mousy brown hair and a button nose. "-Is the King's only daughter, Annest. Perhaps now you might begin to understand how serious the situation in Nethbo is at this point..." A look of misery was clearly plastered accross the priest's face.

Isa looked at him in stunned silence. The priest had delivered into her care, the son and daughter of her own son's enemy. "You took a great risk bringing them here? What if my son or even I were less honorable?"

"The risk was considered worth the danger. Much has been mentioned about the Regent's reputation in Nethbo. Although it did take some convincing of the King, I believe that in the end his concern for his family's well-being overrode any fears of dishonourable retribution against his children."

"I am sure my son will wish to speak more on this matter. For now, we must find a place of safety for you. Tonight, bed the children down here and tomorrow we will seek another space. But here, they are protected and warm. Tomorrow we will feed them well once again."

"As you wish your highness." Father Niddian bowed before the Queen Mother. "The One God bless thee."

Isa nodded to the priest and left the kitchen to arrange for suitable preparations.

"Homecoming"
~ Sir Feirha
~ Two soldiers of Dinas Dwr (NPC) (npc)
~ Various citizenry (NPC)

There was no pomp, no pageantry, but the small procession still held the attention of the crowds it passed. They rode at a comfortable trot down the centre of the street, giving the milling citizens plenty of time to clear the path calmly. Front and rear rode soldiers wearing the uniform of Dinas Dwr light cavalry, an obvious escort to the man between them. This third man also wore the colours of Dinas Dwr, but his coat of arms showed he was more than a mere soldier. The column proceeded along the main street heading directly for the castle.

They had clearly had a long hard ride to reach Abertawe; the men were caked in dust from the roads, and the horses had the white crystalline patterns of dried sweat. This was more than a routine political visit of a foreign noble or dignitary. The knight wore no headgear and he smiled strangely to himself as he surveyed the city as it passed him by.

The gate guards stood aside and saluted the three visitors as they rode into the castle courtyard. It was well known that King Regent Gwalchmai had once served under the Dinas Dwr banner and so the knights, already held in great esteem across the realms, had a particularly special place in these lands.

They reigned in and the three men swung down from their mounts. Three stable lads appeared instantly to take the reigns. "Thank you," the knight spoke absently to the young man who took his own steed. The groom swelled with pride and bobbed furiously as the man strode away towards the castle entrance.

The knight returned the doorman's gracious bow. "Sir Feirha of Abertawe, Knight of Faith of Dinas Dwr, to speak with the King Regent and Lord Iorwerth," he announced formally. The doorman bowed again and moved inside to pass the message to a young page who dashed off to relay it.

"Turn of Events"
~ Bleys Liavek - unpledged knight
~ Yale ap Dwyllin (NPC)

The two hounds yipped their displeasure as Bleys closed the gate on the kennel. The former knight had spent the last several hours working with the dogs, getting them used to him and his commands, and with working with horses. Mahvros in particular had been disinclined to allow the hounds too close, though the new horses seemed comfortable enough. In the end they had all come to accept one another and Bleys was more than pleased with the day's work. The hounds were indeed of a quality breed, smart and quick, good with sight and scent both. Bleys tucked the thought of buying more hounds later in the back of his head. He would wait to see the first litter before spending more but the prospect seemed promising.

A coach was ambling up the road towards his estate, a two horse carriage with a driver and passenger, and another pair of men riding along behind. Bleys squinted into the afternoon sun, hand shading his eyes. Yale ap Dwyllin noticed Bleys from a distance and waved jauntily. Bleys returned the gesture with somewhat less ebullience and brushed at his breeks with his hands.

Anlan had set a tray of the cool citrus wine on the steps of the manor at some point and Bleys availed himself of the refreshment, drinking deep. He waited patiently while Yale approached. The two men riding behind appeared to be bodyguards of sorts, their neat leather jerkins and simple swords professing skill without seeming challenging or intimidating. Yale was careful with appearances.

"Good afternoon, Bleys!" Yale called when he was within the yard. Bleys nodded in reply. "I hope the day finds you well?" Again Bleys nodded, wondering what had brought the investor out this afternoon.

Yale dropped from the carriage easily despite his bulk and tugged on his maroon tunic, belted at the waist with a wide leather affair. "Well enough," Bleys replied amiably. "Been working with the hounds." He nodded in the direction of the kennel.

Yale nodded appreciatively. "Indeed. Are they as good as you hoped?"

"Very much so. I'm quite pleased with their training thus far."

Yale nodded again, chewing his lower lip distractedly. Bleys waited patiently for Yale to get to whatever reason had obviously brought him out. Behind them the driver pulled the carriage around to the opposite side of the yard while the bodyguards dismounted and studiously ignored the two men. The door closing behind Bleys caused him to turn around. Anlan, presumably, had brought out another tray with extra cups and another pitcher of the punch. Bleys poured another cup for himself and one for Yale, holding it out to the older man.

"Would your men care for some refreshment while we talk?"

"Hmm?" Yale looked back at his men, then waved dismissively. "No. They're fine. Thank you." He took the cup and brought to his lips. His eyebrows raised in suprise and he took a deeper drink. "A fine punch, Sir Bleys. You should consider selling this."

Bleys smiled. "I doubt Anlan would consider making enough to sell."

Yale nodded. He seemed to do that a lot, Bleys noted.

"Yes, well. As to the reason I'm here." He stepped over nearer Bleys and leaned against the stone railing. "There's been a--new development to your investments."

Bleys raised one eyebrow in curiosity. It must be some development to bring his investor out this far. Yale paused again before continuing.

"You have some holdings to the east that have encountered some difficulties." Again Bleys waited, knowing Yale would get to the matter in his own time.

"There have been some...disappearances."

"Disappearances?" Bleys prompted, suddenly interested.

"Yes." Yale sipped from his cup again, looking off in the distance past the nearby orchards. "It is common for farmers and such to sell interest in their farms during poor seasons, buying back that interest when they are able. It cuts their taxes, allows them to house and feed their families and make a modest living while still producing a small profit for the investor. This is common and practical for all involved." He looked at the former knight. Bleys nodded his understanding and indicated Yale should continue.

"There have been reports of families disappearing from some of these farms--your farms--to the northeast." Bleys was surprised. He'd heard naught of this in town, and men tended to talk when they'd had a bit of ale.

"Since when?"

"It is a recent thing," Yale answered. "Only recently brought to the attention of the authorities. Two families so far, though they are checking for more." Noting Bleys' expression Yale explained further. "The farms are all outlying, past the immediate borders of the city, sometimes miles past. Thus it might be days or even weeks sometimes before their absence is noted. Unless a neighbor stumbles on to something, of course. In this case it was a pair of couriers who made note of the first disappearance. The family is well known and friendly, and apparently these couriers often made it a stop on their visits. It was they who reported that the Holstead's had disappeared."

"You keep saying 'disappeared'," Bleys interjected. "How do you know they just didn't leave?"

"Dinner had been set," Yale replied solemnly. "It was as if they had just vanished. No blood, the livestock undisturbed, no evidence of any foul play, but the family was gone. Holstead and his wife and their children. All gone without a trace."

"Tracks?" Bleys offered.

Yale shook his head. "It was raining." He drained his cup. "The only thing found was a feather, supposedly of a raven."

Bleys refrained from smirking. If it was mentioned there was a probably a reason. He looked to Yale to continue.

"A similar feather was found at the other farm. The general consensus is that it's slavers, but there's no evidence one way or the other as yet."

Bleys nodded. "And the authorities are doing what?"

Yale shrugged. "What they can. It'll take time to reach all the farms, and with all that has recently gone on and is planned they have little in the way of resources to devote to this."

"In other words, nothing."

"They do what they can," Yale replied defensively. "I know you are not a local but please don't disparage our king and country just yet. Give them a chance."

"You don't have a king," Bleys pointed out with a grin.

"True," Yale admitted, then smiled. "Not yet, but young Hawk is due to be crowned very soon. That is part of what detracts from available resources. That and the refugees from Nethbo, plus the increased patrols due to the recent hostilities." He trailed off and shook his head, his smile fading. "It is a dynamic time, my friend. Many changes in the winds."

Bleys stared off to the east. "You said 'my farms'. What did you mean?"

"Simply put, my friend." Yale easily slipped back into his merchant-banker persona. "The farmer is the nominal owner of the farm itself and all it produces, but he pays you for the use of the land. It's all very feudal. When the farmer leaves or can no longer afford to remain, the farm and all that's on it revert to you completely and wholely. I take but a small percentage of that for administrative costs, of course. You will be paying taxes for land that doesn't produce anything until such time as you sell it or allow another farmer to take over."

This was all very new to Bleys, and to be truthful it wasn't something he wanted to deal with. It wasn't an issue of money to him, but of the people who worked for him.

"They work for me," he said aloud. Yale nodded, happy to have explained the situation so well.

They were, in a sense, his people. True, they all paid taxes for the protection of the king and his army, but in lieu of that it was Bleys who was ultimately responsible for the land and those who were on it. At least, that's how he felt.

"In any case," Yale said, oblivious to Bleys' thoughts, "I thought you should know in case you noticed a dip in income in the coming months."

"Thank you." Bleys drained his own cup in one long pull, wishing it was ale. "I appreciate the trouble."

"It's no trouble," Yale assured him. "But it's possible that if word of this gets out that production falls all over. Some will undoubtedly panic and leave their farms, maybe for a short time, maybe for good. I'll monitor the reports and keep you informed."

"Thank you," Bleys said again.

Yale waved a hand dismissively. "You are a valuable client, Sir Bleys, and I hope a burgeoning friend. I make it a point to keep such valued friends up-to-date. I admit that I wanted to see the hounds for myself. If you intend to breed them then I may find myself investing with you for a change."

Bleys smiled and led Yale to the kennel so that the merchant-banker might have a chance to admire the hounds up close. Though not a hunter himself Yale appreciated the sport and made appropriately admiring statements. From there Bleys showed him his new horses, as well, and eventually the men found themselves drinking more punch while sharing old stories, discussing recent events, and speculating on what the future might hold for Abertawe. While Bleys found the conversation welcome and stimulating, still his thoughts kept turning to the disappearance of the farmers in his nominal employ. By the code of a knight of the realm to which he had once sworn his life they were people deserving of his protection.

If there was anything in this life that Bleys took seriously it was the code he had lived by more than half his life. He understood that the king-to-be was under pressure due to his impending coronation, as well as dealing with the influx of refugees and increased patrols due to recent hostilities. However, the farmers working his land deserved to be protected. It was what they paid taxes for. Bleys was certain that the king would indeed do everything he could to help them. His doubts came in the form of how little he thought “everything” might be. No, these were his people, on his land, and though they may not know it or even recognize it, that made Bleys responsible for them. New to the land he might be but that made him no less the knight he once was.

He sighed. It seemed as if Mahvros would be getting some exercise after all.

"A bargain's just a stone's throw away..."
~ Pwyll ap Llywarch - Outlander
~ Pic, Ula, Little Coch, and Miren - npc's

"Where's it at ya little prick Pic! Curragh wants his due!" The man's voice was heavy with threat.

"I needed ta eat! I bought a loaf from Bagga!" Came the boy's plaintive response.

The thickset man roughly grabbed the rags around the boy's neck and slammed him against the coarse stone of the building wall. "No ya didn't ya lying little piece o' shite. You begged the loaf from that soft tub o' dung Bagga." With that he threw the boy's small frame against the wall again. This time a small smear of blood stained the stone wall where the boy's head had landed. "You know the big man always gets his share. Now where is it?!"

"I told ya, I don't have it! I spent it!" Tears appeared in the corners of the urchin's eyes.

"Well, then! Maybe we should use ya as an example ta keep the other's in line," the man said as he drew a dagger from beneath his filthy tunic.

"Please!! Please no!" The boy pleaded as he began to struggle in earnest.

"Time fer beggin's o'erwith, ya little... Uhhngg..." The big man's sentence was cut abruptly short by the fist-sized stone that sailed from the evening air and struck his left temple.

The boy was stunned to silence. One moment he had been pleading for his life and the next his assailant was suddenly lying at his feet.

He was still staring at the prone figure when a short man emerged from the dark of the alley shadows. The outlandish little man was only slightly taller than Pic, yet bearded and seemingly full grown. "Hardly seemed a fair fight," said the man as leaned over to retrieve the dagger and search the unconscious figure. Finding a small purse he rose and emptied its contents into the palm of his hand. Several copper coins glinted in the pale moonlight. The little man took two and passed the remainder to the still silent boy.

Slowly extending a hand, the boy grasped the offered coins. Then, looking down at his former attacker, he emerged from his reverie and laid several enthusiastic but ultimately ineffective kicks into the lying man's ribs. "Take that, ya bastard!" Satisfied with his small revenge he spat into the big man's face. When he finally looked again at his short rescuer, he was met with a wide grin from the man's tattooed visage.

"You look hungry boy. Come with me an' I'll see yer fed." The little man motioned with his hand, then turned and began to walk out of the alley.

Pic hesitated only for a moment. Already he could see some movement coming from the man on the ground, and he realized that the alley in which he stood would shortly become a very unhealthy place to be. He quietly scampered after the little man with a quickness that belied his gaunt appearance.

Once away from the alley, the two walked unhurriedly through the maze of streets away from the market area and down the old road. As they walked, Pic kept glancing nervously behind him. For a long time the little man was silent. When he finally spoke it was with a gentle teasing tone in his voice.

"Would ya stop worrying lad! Yer shaking worse than a virgin in a barracks."

Pic responded with a little laugh. He wasn't sure where this man was leading him, but he was thankful it was away from where he'd been.

"What's yer name lad?" the little man asked.

"Pic, sir."

"Pic? Saxon isn't it?" asked the tattooed man. Receiving a shrug by way of answer, he said, "Mine's Pwyll."

They walked on for a few hundred strides before he finally turned down a wide alleyway and entered a small gated yard. Pic, following behind, was immediately struck by the unusual combination of scent on the air -- an intermingling of cow dung, wet horse and cooking smells. The yard itself was rectangular in shape and flanked on one side by the wall of a whitewashed building, and immediately adjacent to it by the walls of a small barn. The only occupant of the yard was a short thickset figure asleep next to the doorway of the building.

"Coch! Get up an' have Gwyn or Miren bring us out a couple of bowls of stew and a jug of ale." Pwyll said to the slumped figure, who miraculously seemed to come fully awake. "Seen any of those bastards who stole the fodder?" Pwyll asked as Coch got to his feet.

"Naw. I was hoping they might come back for seconds, but I guess they had more sense then I thought," Coch said as he entered the building.

"'Scuse me sir, but where are we?" Pic asked as the stout fellow disappeared down a short hall. He was quite sure it was an inn, but he couldn't recall any on this side of the city.

"Behind the newly reborn Swan my good man. The finest drinking establishment in the town." Pwyll said with a broad smile and just a hint of sarcasm. "Please. Sit." He motioned the boy to a small bench set against the wall of the building. After a moment or two a short outlander serving girl with a bright smile came out the door bearing a tankard of ale and two bowls heaped with a steaming beef and turnip stew. "Thankye Miren." Pwyll said as he took the warm bowl and the ale from her. "How's the custom t'night?"

"Good. I've only had ta threaten three customers." She said with an impish grin as she handed the other bowl to Pic. "Oh. That old bastard Corbo is looking for you." She added, turning towards the door.

"Just keep him away from Gwyn!" Pwyll pleaded as she passed through the door and down the short hallway to the kitchen.

When Pwyll looked back to the boy, he was surprised to see Pic quickly finishing the stew that had just been given to him. Pwyll glanced at his own supper, and again at the boy who was even now licking his bowl clean. Without another word Pwyll simply handed over his bowl of stew, and sat down on the bench to nurse the ale while the boy wolfed through his second helping.

After the second bowl had been finished, along with a little bread that Pwyll carried about in a small sack, the boy finally took a deep breath and leaned back against the building.

"So. Was that brick back in the alleyway Curragh?" Pwyll asked the boy.

Pic chuckled a little. "No. He's not got the brains or the balls... but he works for 'im. That pig was Ula, one of Curragh's collectors. No one knows who Curragh is 'cept maybe Feagh, Ula's boss."

"Does this Curragh have many collectors?" Pwyll asked, his interest now aroused.

"Two that I know of," said Pic. "But some of the other boys say he's got others who collect from the merchants."

"Any idea where I might find this Feagh?"

"No, but I could find out," Pic responded cautiously. He realized that this man had probably just saved his life, but he couldn't bring himself to trust him just yet -- mistrust had been the one thing that had kept him alive these past ten years.

"Well then. You'd better find out for me on the morrow," Pwyll said. "Tonight you can sleep in the hay loft. Someone's been pinching the odd bail, so if you hear anyone sneaking around, just yell and Coch or I will come running."

"Thankye sir," Pic said as he got up and climbed the ladder on the wall of the barn up to the loft.

"'Night Pic."

'Coin and information all for the price of a stone and a bowl of stew," Pwyll thought to himself as he walked towards the common room of the inn. 'Always nice to get a good bargain.'

"Assuming Responsibility"
~ Duke Gwilym
~ Alterian
~ Father Niddian

Gwilym followed Alterian through the winding corridors of the castle. All the while, he wondered just what he was getting himself into. He had no qualm with helping to protect these children; yet, he definitely would not win any hearts over from the people who would see these children as the enemy. How will it look in the king’s eyes if a citizen were to die by his hands because harm was intended towards a child? War was a conflict amongst men. The innocent should never be involved. It is the way of cowards and bullies to pick on the weak. If a person sought to harm one of these children, then that would be a heart Gwilym did not wish to win over. The king’s order was to protect these children and that is just what Gwilym intended to do.

Satisfied with his own thoughts, Gwilym spoke to Alterian. "Alterian, How many children are there and will there be others protecting these children as well?"

"I think that the Queen Mother intends to speak to Dame Quarra. As to how many, to be honest lad, I did not count." Alterian led the way into the servants’ hall where the children were just beginning to bed down. He beckoned the priest over.

Gwilym took a good look around to try and assess the number of kids and their respective ages. He wondered how they would take to him. These kids after all were brought up as Nethbo and were taught the same prejudices as their parents. He figured there were forty-one children in total, ranging from mere toddlers to about sixteen years of age. Then he observed the priest as he came over to meet with Alterian.

Father Niddian had briefly met Alterian when the queen mother had sent the chamberlain to explain the arrangements for the evening. He bore a harried air from having to deal with so many children in tiring circumstances for so long. Regardless of this, he still went about his tasks in a quick and efficient manner. He gave Alterian a quick bow. "This is excellent, thank you sir."

Gwilym stepped forward and bowed. "Hello priest. I am Sir Gwilym ap Gavin and will be here to aid in the protection of these children. Forgive me for being so forward but by the looks of things, I'd say you've got yours hands full." Gwilym couldn't imagine the stress that would be caused by the care of forty-one children. "I don't know the first thing in caring for a child, but while I'm here, I'll see to it that no harm comes to any of them." You couldn't help but see the compassion in Gwilym's eyes as he looked past the priest towards the children. He could see their fear being so far from home, no family in sight, and at the mercy of the king of their enemy. Gwilym almost felt a kinship with them. After all, he too was far from home, would never again see his family, and placed himself in the hands of the king.

"Your protection is more than enough sir knight," said the priest. "I pray that we shall not be in any need for it."

Gwilym turned to Alterian, "Master Alterian, I'll need to get my belongings. I feel it best to stay close at hand with this many children and just the priest to tend to them. Who is Dame Quarra? I feel I should meet with her as well for keeping track of forty-one rambunctious heads may even be more than the two of us could handle."

"Dame Quarra should be coming in off patrol within the hour. You will find her in the stables for some time for she is meticulous in her men and equipment. I can leave a page at the stable to direct her here if you prefer?" Alterian was glad to wash his hands of the matter. So many children made him nervous.

Gwilym chuckled inside at the sight of Alterian. His expressions made it clear how he felt around so many kids. "Master Alterian, that would be most acceptable to me if you'd have a page direct her here." Gwilym bowed. "It has been a honor to meet you and I look forward to our next encounter."

Gwilym turned towards Father Niddian, "Well, priest, what would you prefer I call you? Priest just doesn't at all sound friendly. I thought that after I returned with my belongings and you've finished putting the children to bed, we could talk so that I can learn more about these little tots. I am very curious as to what circumstances arose that you would place them in the hands of the 'enemy', and I am willing to answer any questions you may have about me.

"'Father' would suffice, sir knight. And I would be more than happy to answer any questions that you may have. Until then, I must put the last of the children to slumber, so if you would please excuse me..." Father Niddian bowed to Gwilym and then bowed briefly to Alterian before promptly going back to his tasks.

Gwilym left to get his belongings. Happy with the choices made thus far. In the back of his mind he could see his mother and father smiling at him.

"Facades and fables."
~ Avalynn ui Rylliach
~ Laera Irenich ~ NPC

The tranquil evening was ruptured with a deafening crack that launched Avalynn two inches above her seat. Somewhat startled, she marked her place and set her novella aside before hurrying in a flurry of scarlet skirts toward the opposite end of the room. Against a chilling gust of air she gripped the large wooden frames and fought them to a close, where they were quickly latched and secured. The outlander rested her hands upon her hips and sighed. "Damned wind."

And then she was back at her chair, hunting for her marker so that she might continue reading from the children's book of fables. It had been somewhat difficult, at first, due to handwriting that could've been scrawled by a monkey, but once Avalynn became used to the sight of letters on parchment, the words flowed much more smoothly. As luck would have it, however, she was soon to be interrupted again.

"Avalynn? Avalynn! I just heard the neatest thing!" It was clearly Laera's voice, and so the outlander sprang from her seat and scrambled toward her bed. When the younger woman's figure finally appeared at the doorway, Avalynn was already under the covers, feigning slumber. "Oh. Are you all right, dear?" Laera asked as she approached. The outlander made no response, so again the question was posed. "Avalynn? Are you all right?" Still, no response. Her brows dipping into a furrow, Laera then reached out and gently shook the sleeping Ava's shoulder. When even physical stimulus did not seem to have an effect, Laera truly looked concerned and gave an even harder shake...

"WHAT!?"

There was a loud thud as the younger woman hit the floor. Struggling to upright herself in a mess of blue velvet, Laera soon recovered from her stupefaction and was evidently angry. "What the...? Ava! You nearly startled me to death!"

"I know!" Laughed the outlander, her sienna eyes glimmering playfully.

Steam was shooting out of Laera's ears. "Well, it wasn't funny!" She declared, finally making it to her feet.

"Of course it was... n't"

"Oh, grow up, Avalynn," mumbled the flushed woman. "Now do you want to hear what I came to say or not?" Laera stood with her arms crossed firmly over her torso, apparently uninterested in further game play.

With a loud huff, Avalynn gave a nod and settled her hands in her lap. "All right, then. What is it?" Ever since Laera had begun taking lessons in dining etiquette, she had brought back the most ridiculous rumors, not to mention an even haughtier disposition.

"Well," began the younger as if the wisest choice had been made," I heard from a woman in the kitchen that her husband the gardener worked with a drunken man that has been going to a reconditioned tavern on King's Road run by outlanders," said Laera with one long breath. But nearly all she received in turn was a blank look from Avalynn.

"So, King's Road is the name of the tavern?" She asked finally.

"No, that's the name of the road that the tavern is on."

"So, the road is run by outlanders, too?"

"What? No, I said that the reconditioned tavern is on King's road and it's run by outlanders... duh," explained Laera in an agitated tone.

Avalynn snickered, "That's not what you said."

"Well, that's what I meant," sighed the younger in exasperation

There was another pause and then, "So?" The elder, with her hands so neatly placed in her lap, seemed to be waiting for something.

"So what?"

"So, what's the big deal?" Asked Avalynn pseudo-patiently. "Why was this so important that you had to run in here and disturb my sleep?" Truly, she was fighting a grin.

Laera appeared to be somewhat confused, if not offended. "Well... I thought that maybe we might know one of them. Maybe they're from back home... I guess..." It was clear by her expression that the absurdity of her own words was beginning to sink in.

"Right. I don't know what you were thinking, Laera, but a woman of your stature simply cannot be seen in a place like a tavern... with all those dirty, ale-guzzling knaves. It's just not done," came Avalynn's matter-of-fact reply as she reached under her bedspread for her novella. When it was produced, she smiled primly and directed her gaze toward its pages. "Now if you don't mind..."

Instead of scowling or making an argument, Laera seemed to absorb her counterpart's words and with a terse nod, spun around and exited the room. In her absence, the outlander smirked. ‘Becoming more and more an arrogant priss each day, that one,' she thought. But then her interest in Laera's change dwindled away, and she returned to her place in the book of fables, for the skill of reading would be essential in her future endeavors at Abertawe...

"Everything"
~ Seth McCullen
~ Bronwen ui Iowerth

Seth had made every possible arrangement he could think of and had made doubly sure the word would not get out to anyone. He stood over the general grounds searching it for Bronwen. He spotted her approaching the Gardens. He decided that he would rendezvous with her there to let her know the news. He walked briskly down there. He arrived and said,"My Love and life. How are you?" he smiled encouragingly.

Bronwen looked around and was surprised that he had managed to catch her alone. "Do you pay off my guards?" She teased. "I am fine." She answered somewhat nervously.

He laughed and said,"I somehow manage to find you alone my love," he approached her and said,"I bring you good news," he whispered into her ear,"All is set and you have nothing to worry about my love," he smiled hoping she would be glad at this news.

"I worry every second until we are away. What if Sanglet suspects?" She asked worriedly.

"I have made sure that it is nearly impossible for anyone to know where we are going or even that we are going. I have gone to extra lengths for this endeavor love. Please do not be despaired. I love you and I will make sure everything works out." He smiled and said,"You relax, all right?" He asked with a smile.

"That is easier to say then do. My father will be most distraught though my mother and brother know." She did not want her father to be even more disappointed in her.

"I think that your father will approve that you followed your heart, just as your mother and brother are. If not then I am sure over time he will honor the decision,"He said with a smile.

"I hope so. I have always tried to be an obedient daughter and now he blames himself for my failure to honor those teachings." She looked at Seth guiltily.

"You're your own person and you make the choices. It is not his fault at all and I am sorry he places that unneeded burden on himself. He really should not,"he said moving to her wanting to console her in anyway he could.

"I know. I am the one that failed him." She said looking up at Seth. The pain of this clear on her face. "I had best go. We should not be seen together."

"I did not mean to make you feel worse my love. I love you so very much and will see you again soon,"he said with a smile. He hoped she would be all right.

Bronwen nodded She kissed him quickly on the cheek and turned and hurried off. He was everything she needed and everything she feared.

"Ray of Sunshine"
~ Princess Rowena
~ Arch-Druid Eruic

Rowena wasted no time in seeking out the Arch Druid. She could not run through the palace, but she had memorized it well enough to hurry. She could see the large shapes of doorways and turns now anyway. She knocked on the Arch Druid's door and waited, shifting from foot to foot.

Once again Dwrn opened the door and let the princess in.

Eruic smiled at the young face entering his chamber. This child was like a ray of sunshine chasing away the clouds. "Little Ray of Sunshine! You have news?"

"Father said I could spend time and study with you and later, if we still both wish it, I could foster with you. He wants me to be sure?" She hoped this lack of commitment wouldn't disappoint him.

"I am sure it could be arranged. The day after your ninth birthday you may come with me and I will teach you the basic ways. Now..." he picked her up to sit on his lap, "How was your day, Sunshine?"

"I went riding with Papa. I miss being able to ride. Can you fix my eyes?" The healer hadn't been able to.

"No, young one, I cannot." Eruic smiled compassionately, "It is up to the gods to return your sight or not. Do not think them cruel, for they have given you this opportunity to learn. When you have learned what is needed, your sight will return and the experience will have made you grow and perhaps prepare you for something to follow. Do you understand?"

Rowena was quiet for a long moment. "Like learning to know what people feel by the way they talk and the sounds they make?"

Eruic smiled, "You already have great insight, it seems." He looked at Dwrn, who nodded in agreement. "To be perceptive to others' true intentions is not always easy, because your own judgements can get in the way quite easily."

"But to make a judgement, you have to see? I can't see to decide before someone speaks? Is that what I am supposed to learn?" Her face peered up at him with innocent openness.

"Perhaps..." Eruic smiled softly, he was already growing fond of this child. "Follow your heart always, even when it seems to lead you into trouble. Your heart is always in contact with the gods and will lead you where you need to be, not where you want to be."

"Is that why Bronwen is in so much trouble? Because she followed her heart?" Rowena waited patiently for an answer. No one was talking about Bronwen and there were men with swords half the time in front of her door.

"I certainly hope so, young one. However, you do not have to worry about Bronwen. She will learn what she has to, as we all must."

"Should't one worry about those we love?" She asked with a frown.

"Most of the time, we worry because we are blind to the bigger picture. Being able to change worry into compassion, shows that one is willing to accept that others have their own paths to follow, their own lessons to learn. As you grow spiritually, young one, you will come to understand that which you do not understand now. It may take many moons or no, many lifetimes or no. All grow at their own pace."

Rowena smiled at the druid. "Like flowers." She loved flowers and loved how each one was different in smell, tecture and even size. There were never two flowers exactly alike. "What should I do until I am nine?"

Eruic smiled at the insightfullnes of Rowena. "I want you to start your own herb garden," he stated simply. He knew it would be yet another challenge for her. "How you do it is entirely up to you."

Rowena frowned. She had thought she would get to do something grand. But then a smile creased her face for it was coming winter and so her garden would have to start indoors or it might die. She was sure, however, that her parents could be induced to let her use a room with an eastern window. "All right. I can do that."

"Good." Eruic lifted her from his lap and let her stand. "Now, run along for there are some matters I must attend to. May the gods light your way, Sunshine."

"You are going to go crown my brother king?" She smiled for it was all that the castle spoke of. "I had best change." She turned and headed unerringly for the door.

"Preparations"
~ Lord Alterian
~ King Hawk

Alterian entered the King's private chambers with the royal robes of state. "Are you ready Sire?" He had prepared everything to the druid's and traditions specificiation. He had even spent time educating the pup from the Northern borders so he did not disgrace himself.

Hawk swallowed, it was going to happen now. "No, I am not ready." He smiled. "But that is beside the issue isn't it? Tell me again exactly what I have to do today." He said, to calm his nerves.

"The druid will guide you. Do not be concerned." Alterian soothed. "It is not such a horrid thing to be crowned King. You will be a fine King." He looked at the younger man and smiled reassuringly. He held out the robe for the King and looked at him expectantly. Hawk had not worn it yet and he wondered if the lad would find the mantle too heavy for the prospect seemed to overwhelm him already.

Hawk took it with reluctance. "There is no turning back anymore, is there? He said "how do you know that I will be a good King? How?"

"Simple, milord, you don't wish to BE King." He smiled. "Do not fret lad. You have a good head on your shoulders and I am here. I would not serve a man I did not trust."

Hawk smiled. "Thank you. I am going to need you the following years. And I am glad you will be there for me. Shall we go now." He took a deep breath.

"One thing, your highness." Alterian dropped to his knee in front of the King. This he wished to do privately. "I pledge my service, loyalty and silence to the crown of Abertawe. As it was from the first so shall it passed to the second." He took Hawk's hand and slipped the royal seal onto his finger. He then kissed it and looked up at HIS King by choice.

Hawk was moved. "Thank you my friend, you have no idea how much this means to me." He grasped the hand and squeezed firmly..

"I will go make sure all is ready. I am sure you would like a moment of reflection" At the King's nod, Alterian withdrew. He would make sure that the poeple were gathered and that the Archdruid was ready.