laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

Penants whipped in the stiff, cold breeze as Jilahd glanced towards his brother, Sigurd. They had been riding towards the sacred ruins of Jakobstad all morning to attend the annual gathering with their Varangian cousins, the dukes and king of Chatelet to the west.

"Why they chose this forsaken town, I'll never understand," the younger duke stated as Sigurd glanced to his brother. Dark blue eyes narrowed by decades of adventure as far east as the Nisei Empire. "You sure we won't have an opportunity for a real fight? It's been years since any of your warriors have had a chance to die in battle."

Green eyes smiled, "You complain like an old woman," the gruff reply as Jilahd shoved his brother playfully. Both arrayed in brilliant fieldplate whose artistic borders displayed an amazing artwork of intertwined vines as well as horses, the king knew his brother enjoyed the banter. It was the Varangian way.

"None of the elder women in our family, that's for sure."

"I'll tell mother you said that. And your wife." Jilahd looked ahead through the sparsely forested, rugged land laid out before his entourage of huscarl and dukes as they rode. His long, grey beard braided by his beloved wife, Anna before he left De Haan some weeks ago, gently swayed in the biting wind in time with the fur lined cloak around his broad shoulders.

Sigurd shook his head. "I don't fear any woman."

Serious green eyes glanced back to his left. "Then what darkens your dreams, brother?"

An equally serious gaze turned, bordered by long, greying red hair and beard. "Departing to Aesir from my bed as an old man instead of on the field against our enemies."

"There are plenty of kingdoms abroad that we've found and raided that are overdue a good plundering, if you feel that your skein is nearing it's end. I'm not going to declare on our own cousins that we've been trying for years to have a peace with just so you can have a sure death," he clamped a gauntleted hand onto Sigurd's armored shoulder. "I still need you at my side for many years to come."

Nodding, the duke sighed and turned his eyes to the horizon. "You do tend to need my help from time to time." A chuckle erupted from both and soon, the jagged walls and columns of their destination came into view over moss covered, grey rock and between sparse foliage. The cold of Saflia was past and the renewal of Onebro was in full swing.

"Well, it didn't take them long," Sigurd mentioned dryly and Jilahd followed his brother's eyes to a squared banner proudly waving in the breeze. It's blue horse standing proudly on it's hind legs, supporting a golden crown on a dark blue field - opposite that of the De Haan royal flag - denoted that his counterpart had already arrived from Chatelet. How typical, he mused as a wry grin crossed his face.

"Haakon, set camp on this side of the ruins," he directed, then glanced to his trusted Man-At-Arms and captain of the huscarl.

"Yes, my King," the dutiful reply as his entourage began fanning out in both directions to find suitable spots for their tents as Jilahd and Sigurd continued into the narrow streets, now grass covered and weed choked towards what was once a town square and marketplace. As they traversed one of the border towns destroyed centuries ago by their war with Chatelet, he soon noticed the banners arrayed around the open, broken ground surrounded by the remains of once proud shops and homes. Within, large men from both kingdoms milled about, then turned as the king of De Haan arrived, then reined in his horse and both dismounted. Bowing, those within the meeting place for the Allthing greeted both brothers warmly.
Jilahd nodded politely, but continued towards the taller and younger king of Chatelet who also strode confidently in his direction, flanked by his own brother and cousin.

"Jilahd, King of De Haan," the blonde haired king also arrayed in his finest and carrying a beautifully made broadsword on his left hip began. "Warrior, Father and Friend of the Chosen. Blessed by Grimnir."

In traditional reply, Jilahd bowed. "Harald, King of Chatelet. Sacker of Aargau and Master of the Tortosa Range. Warrior and Champion of the Horse, blessed by the Aesir. Welcome." Greetings done, both grasped each other's right forearm in greeting. "How is your family?"

"Well, thank you. My eldest is even now preparing for the Great Race. I hear your son, Gerlach will also compete. Should be a good day."

"Indeed."

Once the pleasantries were over and a night of feasting complete, Jilahd got some much needed rest. Their ride had been a long one, but he got the chance to visit many of his western duchies along the way which was necessary from time to time. It was good for the people to see their king healthy for his state reflected the Aesir's opinions of their kingdom as a whole.
The next morning, Jilahd pushed aside the flap to his pavilion and was immediately greeted by the golden rays of sunlight on the horizon. Brightening the high, thin clouds in pinks, which accented the darker grey blanket closer to their campsite and west, which slowly drifted southward towards the Kuzomen Empire that they continued to have an understood peace with. Bare chested, the king strode out towards the east, beyond the central campfire and sleeping huscarl to move through ranks of large tents to the open ground beyond. He took in a deep breath and rested his left hand on the handle of his sword, then pushed it down as he knelt.

"Oh, Great Ones, bless my family and keep them safe. Protect my people with my absence, grace the harvest and give my warriors the heart of our ancestors as well as our companions, the horse that you've given us for battle. Give me wisdom for this gathering and guide my mind and heart for what is to be done." As he finished, his right hand found the necklace that Anna had made him many years ago beneath his flowing beard, raised it to his lips and kissed it warmly. Long journeys like this made him miss his wife, though he knew they would be together again soon.
As he looked up and took in the scene before him, he noticed his brother nearby making intercessions of his own. Birds floated high on the breeze and crossed his view and he soon felt the confidence for the days ahead.

Sigurd approached quietly, then sat upon a large, flat boulder next to the king. "After breakfast, the Allthing begins. I have my doubts as to how long this peace will last, brother. There's a foulness in the air, I can smell it."

Green eyes turned to his advisor. "What have you heard?"

The scarred warrior grinned coyly. "You'll see."