Lord Storm Nattas

A quiet Crow & the young Tiger

Miranda stared at Lord Ruud stunned, her mouth half-opened and pearly teeth showing. King Alistair already thinking ahead, had a grey brow raised, the scowl on his face telling, but never an accurate factor to determine his innermost considerations. Sir Rik was smiling, the leer revealing of his desires in this particular moment and Storm, who’d half-expected the proposal, was left staring blankly at his empty plate a little perturbed.

Surely Lord Ruud, isn’t expecting a dowry…

Unless he has a counter offer.

“My cousin…” The Queen started. “Sandra… is very young.”

Pretty Sandra, was another Alden from Aegium.

“A mere couple of years younger than ye were, your Grace,” Lord Ruud countered with a knowing smirk that made everyone uncomfortable. “And I’m using the ‘official’ number here. Seeing ye up close, I would’ve shaved a couple of years more—”

“Lord Ruud!” Alistair barked, heavy fist rattling the table. “It would behoove ye, to abstain talking about my wife in my presence!”

The old Lord nodded. “Of course King Alistair. Although us Crows were pirates once. Being uncouth is in our blood, but I shall strive to control my tongue. I may not be successful.”

“Sandra has land outside Aegium and a minor claim on the city. You’ll want the barony…” Miranda murmured, but Alistair stopped her raising his hand.

“I can’t give land to Kaltha, Lord Ruud. You’re serving another King.”

“It’s an alliance,” Lord Ruud argued. “You were going to lose a castle for little Silvie. The title is in your cousin’s domain.”

“I was getting a claim on the whole Kingdom, however weak,” Alistair countered, not amused. “But I will think about it, consult with Lord Doris…” He stopped seeing Lord Ruud shaking his head. “You have something else in mind?”

No, Storm thought, take the deal. Take it as is.

It is what he wanted from the fucking start!

“Daughter stand up please,” Lord Ruud said and the quiet Lady Janneke obeyed. She hadn’t uttered a single word that whole time. That high neckline must be suffocating. Borderline strangling her perhaps, Storm thought admiring the tall, but graceful Issir woman. “She’s of age, King Alistair. A maiden and I bet my life on it. I may not have much left, but for me even a couple of years matter. Ah, you can have her checked of course,” Alistair frowned. “Also of exceptional character, soft spoken, well-read though you wouldn’t know it, seeing as she rarely speaks her mind. So quite different from myself. Had I not worked on her mother with enthusiasm, I would have suspected she ain’t mine, haha.”

Storm blinked and Lady Janneke blushed so hard, even her skin tone couldn’t hide it.

Good grief.

“You’re offering a bride, Lord Ruud?” Alistair rustled, trying to keep it civil.

Lord Ruud stood back on his chair. “Well, I ain’t giving her out to work in the local brothels! Hehe,” He rolled his eyes seeing no one was willing to crack a smile and added. “Aye, a quiet Crow presented to yer young Tiger. It’s my counter offer, your Grace.”

King Alistair placed a hand on his chin and stared at the old Lord thoughtfully.

“The children shall be Aldens’,” Alistair finally said.

“I sure hope they are!” Ruud guffawed looking about him and Storm almost smiled, but managed to contain himself. “Young Jeremy will also have Timberville and the profitable South Greenforest to play with. I hear he’s quite the hunter, though that could be a tall tale. I find myself easily bamboozled in my later years.”

Storm thought the latter an outright lie.

The King glanced towards Sir Rik, his demeanor changed. “Forestfort controls that part,” He noted, narrowing his eyes in the attempt to picture the area in his mind. Storm could see the ground offered as dowry on the opposite wall, the map hanging there quite detailed.

“Sir Rik will relinquish the lands to his sister,” Lord Ruud explained. “It’s not like they are his lands per se. Not until I’m fully dead, they aren’t. Either way, while half-blind, he can still take instructions.”

Sir Rik didn’t even blink, probably desensitized to his father’s words after years of abuse.

“Antoon will foam at the mouth, upon finding out. It will move the borders, Lord Ruud,” The King noted.

“I reckon he will, but it’s my fucking land and we’re neighbors for centuries. If I’m not feeling threatened, he shouldn’t.”

“The De Weers always supported the High King,” Storm said and Lord Ruud cast him a sour glance.

“Antoon has forgotten that fact son. Scaldingport has a foot on Eplas. If I keep it, then I can open a trade route and leave the High King to fight for Raoz, while I prosper. He can keep the Shallow Sea for all I care. Everyone will flock to do their business away from the fight and the war.”

“The fight will end,” King Alistair said.

“This war has just started, King Alistair,” Lord Ruud replied. “I fear that by the time it ends, we’ll both be buried and this Realm might be different.”

Storm reached for his goblet, found no wine in it and grimaced. The moment dragged, the King pondering quiet next to his frowning Queen.

“Why not consider Lucius?” Alistair said finally. “He would’ve been my choice, if I considered the girl of any value and it would bind the hands of Regia’s next King as well.”

“Oh, she’s capable, your Grace. Janneke will give you many children, just like her mother. She may not have the tits on her now, but they’ll fill out, worry not.”

Poor Lady Janneke was still standing with her hands clasped before her stomach.

“So, why not Lucius?” Alistair asked again, not falling for the old Lord’s tactics.

“I want the marriage done as soon as possible. Within a week, or two,” Lord Ruud replied. “So I can return to Scaldingport. Will Sir Lucius be here?”

“We can’t have a wedding so soon!” Alistair blasted him. “My wife is still in mourning, as am I, Lord Ruud.”

“Bah, I don’t expect a big celebration, King Alistair,” Ruud dismissed his protests. “This is a political affair, better performed within these very walls. All we need is a priest of Uher,” Seeing the looks on their faces he frowned and added with a shrug. “Or any priest.”

“You wish the ceremony done inside the palace?” Alistair asked him incredulous. “Why rush it so much Lord Ruud?”

“The first is out of caution, well-deserved given what happened,” Ruud replied and smiled catching everyone unawares. “The other query I’ve already answered, your Grace. We need to move, afore Antoon makes his decision.”

Alistair sat back on his chair and pressed his lips tight. He glanced one more time at the silent and still standing Lady Janneke and then replied with a snort.

“I’ll have an answer for you by morrow.”

Marking the end of their colorful dinner.

“We shall retire to our quarters, King Alistair. Queen Miranda,” Lord Ruud said getting up.

“Sir Rottas Barnard, will escort you there,” Alistair replied and the large knight approached them, all heavy boots and clanging metal.

“Good grief, yer a large lad,” Lord Ruud commented eyeing him. “Lead the way Sir Barnard and I’ll walk right behind you. Why, I feel safe already,” He added and Storm would’ve cracked a smile, if the King’s face permitted it, but Alistair looked like he’d just tasted something rancorous.

So Regia’s Master of Silence remained stoic, while their visitors vacated the hall.

King walked slowly towards his throne and sat down. Storm followed after him and a troubled Miranda. The Queen didn’t take her seat, her arms tied under her bust and shivering as if she was cold.

“It is not a bad match dear,” Alistair pointed out. “Lord Ruud is being extremely generous.”

“I’ll have to talk with him,” She replied.

“For what?” Alistair grunted. “I haven’t decided yet and even if I had, Jeremy will do as he’s told. Not much skill is required.”

Miranda gulped down. “Of course. I should still talk with your son, my King.”

“There will be no talk,” Alistair decided. “You should retire dear, while I talk some more with Lord Nattas,” He ordered her.

The Queen nodded with her head.

“I shall leave you to it, husband,” She glanced his way. “Lord Nattas, it was nice seeing you again.”

“Your Grace,” Storm replied. It came out almost a croak. “Likewise.”

“Well then,” Alistair said, when she walked out of a side exit. “One day, I would ask for your secret Nattas. You have a way of charming my wives.”

“I’m not sure it’s a skill, my King,” Storm replied, his mouth drying up. “But more my inability to order them around.”

“Hmm, you do have a daughter. So see to fix that, Nattas. Women need a firm hand, else they’ll lead a man to fallacy and ruin. Trust me, it’s not easy to get your way, but you can’t allow them free reign. Exceptions exist, but it’s a rare occurrence.”

Storm nodded agreeing, although he didn’t. You just don’t disagree with a King on these matters. No good could come out of it.

“South Greenforest is a huge plot of land,” He said instead, steering the conversation onto safer ground. “Rich and fertile.”

Lots of wood in it.

Obviously.

“It might solve us our timber problems, to a point,” Alistair agreed and with a sigh got up from his throne again. He walked towards the map Storm had looked at earlier and stood before it deep in thought.

“You think, I should have given him Lady Sandra?” The King asked him a moment later.

“Politically it would have been sensitive for Lord Doris. Sir Rik seems like a decent lord to have around though.”

“Unless Sir Gust doesn’t return from Eplas,” Alistair said.

Ah.

There’s a door, you better not open King Alistair.

Gods have a terrible sense of humor.

“Jeremy gives more control to you,” He pointed the obvious.

“It does,” Alistair agreed. “It also gives Antoon another excuse to act against me.”

“Lord Ruud is looking for strength in numbers. Antoon will not be pleased with him as well,” Storm commented.

“He needs him though. Antoon needs that foothold, even if only to distract the Khan.”

“The High King needs Midlanor more. He has Riverdor and Badium through the Van Durren. I think it’s a matter of trust also. Who would trust that old goat?”

“Hmm. Scaldingport is a big port, big city. Castalor follows their lead and they have Colle answering to them by controlling the Boar Mountains. You don’t want Lord Ruud as an enemy,” The King pointed out.

“He’s giving up too much,” Storm argued.

“He’s looking for a strong ally. Regia is that in his eyes,” Alistair countered.

“Can he take Eikenport?”

“He doesn’t need to, if he truly has found a port on the coast. Especially if it’s on the Merchant Path.”

“Where?” Storm asked, looking at the map. “That’s a wall of limestone, up and down the lower part of Eplas.”

“Walls have cracks,” The King replied. “And maps never show you every nook and cranny.”

“You’ll accept the proposal,” Storm said.

“I haven’t decided,” Alistair replied. “If I do, my gut tells me I may have to fight soon. Everything leads that way. I’ll have to react to this Lucius controversy,” He breathed once deep. “I can’t have anyone smear his name, or question his right to the throne.”

“You think Lord Ruud will help, your Grace?”

“I don’t want him to help,” King Alistair replied, his eyes on the map of the Lorian coast. “I want him to stay out of my way and leave the road to the Mudriver Bridge open.”

“You’ll be forcing Antoon’s hand,” Storm argued, not likening all this war talk.

“He’s forcing mine, Nattas. I intend to break his,” Alistair replied. “If Scaldingport stays put and I take the bridge over Mudriver, I would cut the High King off Riverdor. Threaten Issir’s Eagle.”

“You want him to fight.”

“It’s the easiest way to solve a problem,” Alistair replied. “But let’s not rush into this. Antoon might decide not to react at all.”

“Can he?” Storm asked and the King of Regia turned to stare at him.

“He’s already fighting a war. Swallowing his pride wouldn’t be a surprise. He had to give up his sister and look what that brought on him. Elsanne takes the throne, if he kicks the bucket.”

“The High Queen is pregnant,” Storm said, but he knew that was a weak argument. A child in the belly, is not an heir. You don’t even have to get rid of him, he thought. You just kill his mother. “Will you call on Cartagen and Novesium for troops?”

“What for? I have the Legion right here,” The King argued.

“Lesia might not want to anger Antoon.”

“Regia commands the Legion.”

“A third of it is King Davidson’s men. He could order them to stand down,” Storm insisted.

“Two thirds of the Legion can stop the Second Foot,” Alistair countered.

“Antoon has the Royal Guard in Issir’s Eagle. He could strip the city, send everything down the lakes, if the crossing is threatened. Call reinforcements from Caspo O’ Bor.”

“It takes a long time to mobilize so many men and he still has a war on Eplas to fight. He might take the easy way out,” King Alistair said.

There were some grey hairs on his head. Just a couple, sprouting here and there, but Storm noticed them and frowned. While not in the spring of his youth, Nattas wasn’t in his forties yet, he was still in his prime. Some days though, he felt worn out. What will you leave behind? He asked himself in the mirror of his bedroom. What shall remain of Lord Nattas, when you’re gone?

A man breaks his back, commits countless atrocities to elevate himself. Holds on to whatever power he wrestles away from the noble cunts wielding it, but he could lose it all in an instance.

Was he at that point?

A war would bring ruin.

Also money and perhaps even more opportunities, but eventually ruin will follow.

Nattas knew that.

He was wealthy. Always taking care to keep the coin in his pocket and never overspend, if other alternatives were present. Storm had properties in Alden, in Novesium and in Cartagen. He’d eyed a strip of land where the Emerald River had its sources, outside of Novesium and on the road to Cartagen. Beautiful sandy beach overlooking the Lorian Gulf. A touch of gold amidst a forest of palm trees. On a good day you could imagine, see it even in your mind’s eye, the coast of Lesia and the grand port Cediorum beyond the waters.

Storm had left his familial land an orphan, penniless and broken boy.

Perhaps I should buy the land, get it on the cheap. The market isn’t exactly booming right now. Build a place in the ‘wilderness’ to retire, if all this doesn’t work out. Make the purchase, even if it does.

Sighing he moved away from the mirror. He rubbed his sore knee with a hand and then walked to the door and walked out, deep in thought.

Almost knocked Sirio down, the young Historian entangled with Maja, hands and feet moving awkwardly to separate themselves. Sirio’s face flushed, the woman smirking, a couple of her buttons opened at the front of her dress, the soft flesh spilling out.

That was more than a couple of buttons.

For fuck’s sake.

“Lord Nattas,” Sirio mumbled, seeming very embarrassed. “Apologies, I must have lost my mind—”

“Bah, what nonsense,” Maja cut him off, with a slap on the chest. “I had to twist his arm, to get him to feel me up, father. He’s innocent.”

“Ahm,” Storm paused, unsure how to handle this. “Still,” He cleared his throat a couple of times, stared at his soft boots. It’s not easy to pretend outrage. “He should have known better dear.”

“Oh, shut up,” Maja snorted. “I may have threaten him a little.”

“She didn’t, it was my fault, Lord Nattas,” Sirio protested.

You fool. She’s playing you son.

“Daughter, please behave yourself,” He said with a sigh.

“I will father,” Maja droned with a grin.

Why you…

“Sirio, my lad…” Storm hissed. “Let me have a word with her, if you please.”

“I shall accept any punishment, Lord Nattas,” Sirio argued, clearly on the verge of fainting. “Miss Maja shouldn’t be—”

“It’s fine honey,” Maja stopped him again. “Allow me to speak to my father.”

Sirio bowed deeply. His blush a permanent fixture.

Storm watched him stumble away a little amused.

“I thought he preferred men,” He admitted and Maja chuckled, reaching for his cock. Storm slapped her hand away.

“Ouch. Well, he does still, I think,” Maja said with a pout.

“I just caught him massaging your tits!” Storm snapped, not enjoying being taken for a fool in his own house.

“He was, as an experiment,” Maja replied confidently. “If something has a cock, I can get it up dear, unless they have someone else in mind,” She added glaring his way suspiciously.

“I’m thinking of disinheriting you,” Storm warned her. The thought of leaving her as his sole heir devastating. “In fact I’m almost ready to tear up that fake papers. Push comes to shove, kill that crooked public servant. I’m not even sure, if it’s a crime.”

“Well, it’s your funeral,” Maja retorted with a shrug and turning on her heels, walked away strutting her arse.

What? Dammit!

It was a powerful argument.

It’d taken ten days for the nobles ‘to iron out the kinks and bumps’ per Lord Ruud’s own words. When they finally did, two weeks later young Jeremy was one of several miserable looking guests at his own wedding. The whole affair glaringly small and haphazardly thrown together. Lady Janneke appeared as uncharmed by the whole ceremony, although she did look delectable in all white.

Queen Miranda had to have one of her own dresses ‘fixed’ and ‘repurposed’, a much stressful ordeal for everyone involved, which was half the palace. Seeing as the weather was horribly hot, despite being a month after summer, she demanded a ‘more Lorian’ gown from the hapless Issir bride.

Lady Janneke obliged her mother in law and had her white gown opened up in places, much to the small crowd’s delight, as the girl -while small-breasted- was very attractive. Jeremy appeared to mellow up to her as well and the –atrociously boring- ceremony proceeded at a snail’s pace, despite Lord Ruud’s very rude protests to wrap everything up before he expired.

A priest of Tyeus presided, as Uher had none left in the city and a late replacement from Aegium claimed he couldn’t make it in time. Or he was ordered to stay put, Storm thought and sighed, a hand wiping the sweat of his face, the other keeping an energetic Maja at bay. The assassin dressed in purple finery on his coin, was beaming quite pleased. King Alistair, ever a stickler for protocol, had insisted for Lord Nattas to introduce her ‘given the exceptional opportunity’.

Storm would rather slice off his own cock, but the situation being what it was and everyone on their last nerves, he reluctantly –and tritely- yielded to the King’s demand. Hence Maja got a new gown and was now flirting with a barely sober Sir Barnard –among other lewd things- the hale knight quite interested in her.

Sirio sighed, standing on his other side and Storm watched him out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re okay lad?” He asked.

“This is very touching,” Sirio whispered, very emotional. “Unexpected, minimalistic and quite beautiful.”

Lord Nattas blinked.

There’s a dude seeing things through rose-tinted glasses!

“It was done out of necessity. You were present for half of it,” He hissed and at that moment the priest finished up at last. Jeremy resplendent in Alden crimson, but looking unsure and still holding his wife’s hands, went in for a kiss at Lord Ruud’s vocal encouragement. “There, this will shatter your illusions,” Storm snorted and pointed at the couple.

Jeremy kissed Lady Janneke and she kissed him back. What had started as an awkward probe between two complete strangers quickly turned into a passionate exchange that stunned the small crowd.

Wow.

What in Abrakas toes?

“Rush them to their room for cryin’ out loud!” Lord Ruud bellowed, recovering first. “Lad is about to spill his seed standing!”

“The old Crow is right!” A drunk Mayor agreed. The man had just returned from his vacation at the King’s insistence.

Storm frowned a little surprised and equally pissed for being proven wrong. Sirio was wiping his teary eyes next to him, Miranda cooing relieved across the hall and Maja half-cackling half-gasping both happy and emotional.

Storm would have thrown aroused into the mix as well.

A right fucking mess.

“What gotten into you?” Storm probed and the assassin stared at him with misty eyes.

“I’ve never been at a wedding outside of work.”

Her way of saying, this was the first time she hadn’t killed anyone at a wedding.

Eh, Storm thought, just as the two newlyweds were ushered away to their quarters to seal the deal. I guess one could take this as a small improvement.

A sign of things going the right direction.

No sooner than Lord Nattas had made that thought, a loud cry interrupted the relaxed nuptial table.

“Make way for the King’s Herald!”

Someone yelled from outside the palace’s main hall double doors.

Storm turned his head to see who it was, the man entering covered in dust and dirt from the road.

“Who are you?” King Alistair rustled none pleased. “Couldn’t it wait lad? I’m marrying my son!”

The Issir official blinked, the black robes worn underneath his coat marking him as a priest of Oras.

“I was ordered to make the journey, King Alistair,” The man replied.

“That’s Primus Molders,” Lord Ruud interrupted him. “Lord Sigurd’s lackey.”

Molders blinked taken aback at the insult, but King Alistair sobering up, pushed back on his armchair.

“Continue then,” The King of Regia pressed their unannounced visitor.

“King Alistair, I rushed here as fast as I could to warn you, before the missive arrives—”

“What missive? Does anyone know anything about this?” Alistair interrupted him and sprang up from his chair. Seeing as no one wanted to address the matter, he eyed a red-faced Sir Barnard. “Check on the birds. Post haste Sir Rottas!” He ordered him and the Knight trotted out of the hall, pushing past inebriated guests and officials.

“The High King’s summon,” Molders replied, taking the initiative. “Antoon asked the Lords of the Kingdom to journey to Riverdor. I believe he intends to address the current situation. The Kings and Heirs of Regia and Lesia, are also called upon to appear.”

Storm grimaced, a tremor in his left hand visible.

Antoon had made his move.

“He invokes the treaties?” Alistair growled, grinding his teeth. It was the only way Antoon could summon him anywhere. “Is he serious? There are no damn treaties anymore! He bloody knows that! The Khan broke them when he took Rida, but Antoon had done it even before that, when he allowed a Zilan to step inside the Duke’s palace!”

Deathly silence followed the King’s words. Lord Ruud, cunning smirk on his face, stooped forward from his table. The chainmail he wore clinging on the silverware. The old Lord was the only one wearing armor that day, but for the King’s guards.

“Molders is a friend of sorts,” He rustled. “Perhaps we should allow him to tell us, what his master wants us to learn.”

Sigurd was his meaning, Storm translated. Molders was sent by Kaltha’s Master of Silence. Apparently the man had a deal, or something with Lord Ruud.

“By all means,” King Alistair said, glaring at the nervous Molders. “Explain away mister Molders.”

Not even six months after the ‘Slayed Virgins’ wedding, Regia hosted another one. King Alistair’s third son Jeremy Alden, Second of his name, had wed Lady Janneke De Weer, daughter of Lord Ruud of Scaldingport that hot autumn month. The ceremony performed in such hastiness, scarce records of it remain today, other than the few still breathing witnesses of the event.

On the final week, of the first month of autumn, the year of the New Calendar 189, the two young scions were joined before their families. A sweet and meaningful event, often overlooked in the annals of history. The only words uttered from Lady Janneke all that time, were a confident 'I do' during the wedding ceremony.

The quiet Crow and the young Tiger make for a tragic tale worth telling.

No sooner than the wedding was over and consummated, a missive arrived from Issir’s Eagle. High King Antoon Eikenaar asked for a conference in Riverdor. The Conference of Lords, as it came to be known was to be held in two months’ time, in the first month of winter in the city of Riverdor.

Given the number of matters open and the political climate of the time, it came as no surprise, when almost all the Lords attending came prepared and well-escorted. Some even allowing so many guards to make the journey, one can only describe their cohorts as excessive.

Two of them went all in and brought with them actual armies. The famed Second Foot, or parts of it and likewise the vaunted Lorian Legion.

Lord Sirio Veturius

Circa 206 NC

The Fall of Heroes

Chapter XXIII

-Prologue-

Prelude to the Battle of the Turncoats

(King Alistair Alden,

Stalwart Tiger of Regia.

-The Conference of Lords-

Second month of winter 190 NC)