First draft

The skies were already dark when the lords started coming back. The Hall of Pines was completely packed but the atmosphere was different from last night, heavier and more solemn. Most of the nobles belonged to minor houses, vassals who stood silently behind their lieges, their arms crossed as they waited for the Gathering to start. Egil gazed at the men around the table and smiled. Their faces looked even paler than his own. Evidently, he wasn't the only one suffering from the excesses of the previous night.

When everyone was seated, Arnulf Lindberg stood up, spreading his arm wide as he addressed the crowd, "I won't say much. You all know why we are here. So...who wants to talk first?"

Ozur Kaalhund was the first to stand, his huge belly shaking left and right as the prow of a drifting ship when he pushed himself up.

"I would like to bring to your attention..."He commenced.

"Enough, Kaalhund. We have already listened to your complaints." Lord Dahl mocked, his voice grating on Egil's ears like nails on a chalkboard, "It is only a local matter. Nobody wants to listen to your nonsense."

"Local matter!"Ozur's double chin trembled like jelly, "You...you scoundrel!"

Ozur's vassals and Dahl's followers stood up. They shook their fists in anger, their gazes filled with animosity as they yelled and recriminated until they were all exhausted.

Egil remembered that there was an old blood feud between Kaalhunds and Dahls, though no one recalled how it had begun. Someone said that everything started with a territorial dispute, others claimed house Kaalhund was the one to blame. According to them, the Kaalhunds used to steal house Dalh's livestock back in the day. This theory was supported by the fact that house Kaalhund had flourished over the past hundred years, while house Dalh declined. However, the wild held theory was that sometime in the past, the heir of house Dahl and the daughter of Lord Kaalhund were supposed to get married, but on the wedding day, when the young Dahl finally saw the bride, he escaped, besmirching house Kaalhund's honor. Since then, the two houses had been at odds with each other.

"I don't envy lord Lindberg." Jokul commented.

Egil shrugged, "At least they are sitting at the same table. It's a start."

Thanks to Lord Lindberg's intervention, the situation didn't devolve into an all-out brawl, but the mood was glum when he finally managed to restore order. Yet, even then, Lord Dahl still had no intention to let go.

"Don't embarrass yourself, Kaalhund. Let someone else talk."

"This is not your manor, Dalh. Everyone has the right to speak here." Ozur retorted, "Am I wrong, Lord Lindberg?"

Lord Lindberg appeared reluctant to get involved, his bushy brow furrowed as he glanced at them. Unfortunately, he was the host, and he couldn't renege on his commitments.

"Lord Kaalhund is right." He grudgingly admitted.

Dahl looked disgusted, "It's a waste of time. We have more pressing concerns than fucking pirates."

Many lords sighed, shaking their heads, without doubt tired of listening to their endless bickerings.

"Ozur Kaalund may look like a fool, yet he is anything but stupid." Jokul whispered while Ozur and lord Dahl kept jabbing their fingers at each other," It may be wise to listen to what he has to say."

Egil sighed, rubbing his forehead as he slowly stood up, "Let him talk."

Lord Dahl clenched his fists, unwilling to give up. But then Lord Lindberg said, "We're wasting time, Lord Dahl."

Lord Dalh was under pressure from Egil and Lindberg and had no choice but to yield to their demands.

"Very well. But make it quick." He said to Ozur.

Ozur, on the other hand, completely ignored him and bowed to Egil, "Thank you, lord Strom. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, the purple sails must be defeated. This isn't just a local matter." He gave a nasty look to Lord Dahl, "but something that involves us all. With the pirates gone, the entire realm, and not in a small way, all the lords gathered here today, will benefit."

"I agree." Baron Lynott Kaalh, one of Ozur's vassals, supported his liege, "Without the pirates, we would control the Strait. The Anchorvys are desperate right now."

"Aye. They are literally bleeding money. Their goods are collecting dust in their warehouses. If we could create another trade route to the eastern continent..."Ozur trailed off, but the meaning was obvious.

Lord Dahl snorted, "Trade, that's all you talk about. Do you still dare to call yourself a son of Oril?"

"At least I have something to say, Dahl. This realm could thrive if..."

"We are warriors, not merchants." Dahl chimed in, his lips curling into a vicious smile, "But what do you expect from a Kaalhund?"

The room fell deathly silent, the sound of Ozur panting heavily the only thing they could hear.

The situation was about to devolve into chaos once again, when Lord Hartway asked, "What does Bruni Larsson think about this? He is the lord of Fyollum and the Protector of the Strait after all."

"Lord?" Daahl sneered, "He is just a regent. The title of protector of the Strait is vacant since the late lord, Tharl Asmund passed away, three years ago."

"Unfortunately, lord Dahl is right." Arnulf Lindberg informed them, "House Asmund is all but extinct. The heir, Sigbi, is just a boy."

"We can't act if the Protector of the Strait doesn't ask for help," Lord Hartway pointed out, "Not without the Highlord's permission."

"What if Larsson acts as a proxy for Sigbi?" Karl Gilwood interjected, "It might work if he manages to get the thralls' support. Surely, the Highlord will agree if the people of Fyollum..."

"It won't work." Lord Hartway objected, "Bruni Larsson is neither a warrior nor a nobleman. He doesn't have a drop of noble blood in his veins. The thralls will never support him."

"For Oril's ax!" Karl Gilwood cursed, "This is shameful! The biggest city of the realm is managed by a ringless peasant!"

"What do you expect?" Dahl smirked, "Stoneface spends most of his time with priests, he doesn't have time to manage his lands."

Egil glared at him, "It's lord Alfric for you, Dahl. My uncle is still the Highlord, in case you forget."

Dahl was stumped for words, his face flushing with embarrassment.

Arnulf Lindberg cleared his throat, "The Highlord is the only person who can nominate the new lord Protector. I'm sorry, Lord Kaalhund but this matter will have to wait."

Ozur didn't seem happy about it, even less when lord Dahl started gloating.

"Anyone else?"Arnulf Lindberg asked.

It was Sven the old, patriarch of house Daalgard and lord protector of the Breach, who spoke. With his six feet, he wasn't a tall man, not for the Wildlands' standards anyway, but a veil of silence engulfed the hall when he stood. He looked regal like a wise king of old, his sweeping white beard dangling like a thick steel rope as he rose, his rings clanging against each other like tiny bells, a legacy of his glorious past.

"The turmoil in the realm is becoming untenable." He said without preamble, his intense gaze sweeping over the lords around him, "These priests from the south are tearing off the very fabric of our society. This nonsense can be no longer be tolerated."

Some of the lords shifted uncomfortably in their seats, averting their gazes when the old warrior looked at them. Only when Sven returned to his seat, they started breathing again.

"Lord Daalgard is right." Hartway said, "The White Gowns offend our Ancestors, call us pagans, mock our traditions. The thralls are angry, and rightly so. We have to do something and fast, otherwise they will take the matter into their own hands."

Dahl shrugged, "So? What's the problem? Let them do it. That would solve all our problems."

"Lord Dahl." Sven the old spoke softly, but his voice sounded oddly magnetic, "We are nobles, not cutthroats. No matter what, I will not condone lynching."

"A mob is hard to control." Lord Lindberg seemed to agree with him, "Using the people's anger is a double-edged sword, Lord Dalh."

"Not all of them are angry, I'm afraid." Hartway observed, his face darkening, "Those White Gowns can be very convincing. Many of our people have already joined their cause."

"Fucking traitors."Dahl hissed, "We should just hang them."

"And then, what?" Ozur didn't miss the chance of contradicting him, "I'm not as brave as you, lord Dahl, I don't want to deal with a revolt."

Dahl looked at him with distaste, "So what do you propose?"

"I'm just saying we should focus on the causes." Ozur answered, his voice calm and reasonable, "The Temple's faith is taking root among the peasants because the White Gowns are offering them what they need the most: food. The people are hungry. The harvest has been meager in the last few years, and with the bandits plaguing our lands..."

"I can't believe it." Dahl said in disbelief, "Are you justifying them, Kaahlund? Those vermins are apostates and liars. We should just..."

"No, Lord Kaahlund is right." Lord Hartway interjected, "The bandits are becoming more and more rampant. They even dared to burn down a village, a couple of weeks ago."

Many lords gasped, surprised and infuriated by their audacity, but not Egil. He stood very still, quietly looking at the people around him like he was trying to avoid attention.

"A village?" Lord Gilwood sounded alarmed, "Did it happen in your lands?"

"Aye." Hartway nodded grimly.

Lord Lindberg furrowed his brow, "How come we didn't know about this?"

Hartway lowered his head, evidently ashamed, "I just heard about it." He admitted, "The village is just a small hamlet on the slopes of the Gloomy mountains. It's very secluded, far from the main road. Maybe that's why they chose it." Lord Harway clenched his fists, "Those beasts raped the women, butchered the men and even burned the fields. They left only ashes behind them."

The lords took a deep breath, their faces filled with concern and disbelief.

"Did they leave any traces?" Gilwood asked.

"Nothing. Maybe if we had a Pathmaker with us..." Hartway shook his head, "It's useless to think about this now."

"It's not too late." Ozur said, evidently out of politeness, "These beasts must be brought to justice..."

The lords kept discussing, but Egil wasn't listening anymore. He felt like someone was watching him. He turned his head and realized it was Jokul. The Glorysing was staring at him fixedly.

"What?"

Jokul shook his head, "Nothing." He answered, but his expression was a bit off, "I was just wondering...what are your views on this matter, warlord?"

"I think it's horrible of course." Egil hastened to say, "Something like that happened, and we knew nothing about it."

"Yes, horrible" Jokul nodded, apparently agreeing with Egil, "Still, it's a shame Thorvald couldn't join us. He is the best tracker in the Wildlands." Jokul's tone was deliberately casual, but Egil was alert.

"Yes...a real shame." That's all he said.

The conversation was stalling when Lord Lindberg stood up.

"Bandits, pirates, southerners. All these problems have a common root." Arnulf paused, his grey-blue eyes lingering on Egil, "Without the shepherd, the flock scatters."

"The shepherd is alive and well, Lord Lindberg." There was a hint of steel in Egil's voice, "And I couldn't help but notice that some key people are missing. Where are the Bellbornes? Or the Alhstroms? Why wasn't my uncle invited?"

Contrary to all expectation, it wasn't Lord Lindberg to answer, but Ozur. "Lord Strom, we tried to reason with the Highlord but Lord Alfric...has been very busy of late." He diplomatically said, "Unfortunately, we can no longer wait. It's not a secret, but this country cannot survive on its own."

Egil narrowed his eyes, "Cannot survive on its own? What are you talking about? Our ancestors lived here for thousands of years!"

"Since then, our population had grown. There had been no major war in the last hundred years, and though this land is big, it isn't suited to farming. The real problem is that we consume more than we produce. In recent years, many of the lords here imported food from the south or the eastern continent and sold it at a loss, but we can't do it anymore. Our coffers are empty."

"What about the elves? Or our prized furs? They are in high demand in the Eastern continent."Egil retorted.

Lord Gilwood shook his head."That's not enough. Besides, the elves are less and less, and now with this Holy Raid..."

"Holy raid" Snorted Lord Hartway, "Holy raid they call it, but I say it's theft!" He thundered, "The elves belong to us. They are a resource just like fish or iron ore."

"I disagree." Lord Dahl intervened, "Let them have their fun. They can slaughter them all for all I care. We don't need the elves. Our ancestors prospered in these lands for thousands of years long before we started trading in slaves. We should follow their example and take what we need from our neighbors."

"Steal it, you mean." Ozur remarked, "We're not pirates, Daahl."

"We're not cowards either, Kaalhund." Lord Dahl rebutted, "Plunder is the only way, our way."

Many lords nodded, expressing their agreement. Except for Ozur, everyone else seemed to like his proposal.

"This situation must be solved, in one way or another, lord Strom." Hartway said, "We had been forced to borrow money from the dwarves to feed our people, but now we are the end of our rope."

"Lord Alfric must banish the White Gowns back to the south, where they belong."Lord Lindberg concluded.

"Must, lord Lindberg?"Egil asked, his voice dangerously low," The Highlord is your liege. He doesn't take orders from you."

Ozur grimaced and many lords lowered their heads, but no one agreed with Egil. The atmosphere was heavy, filled with tension, when Old Sven stood up.

"My life has been long Egil Strom, maybe too long according to someone." The man sitting beside Lord Sven shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was Sven's heir, Sigurd, a bulky man in his forties.

"I know lord Alfric. I fought side-by-side with him in the shield-wall, laughed with him and even shed blood for him." Sven's right eye seemed to shine, as an old flame rekindled by his memories, "He is like a brother, but I will not surrender my lands to the Summermers."

It was Arnulf Lindberg's turn to talk, "Since the days of the Cataclysm, there's always been an Alhstrom to carry Oril's ax. This will never change, but it's time for Alfric to step back and let another, younger man bear the burden of Oril's legacy"

A younger man?

"Thandruil?"Egil asked, his voice raspy. "Are you talking about Thandruil?"

Arnulf shook his head, "Nay. Alfric's son is too close to the Bellbornes"

"Then who..." He looked around and his words died in his throat.

Lindberg, Dahl, Ozur---basically all the lords---were staring at him.

Don't tell me...

"Me?" When the words left his mouth, Egil couldn't believe what he was saying, "Are you serious?"

Yet, from the way the lords were looking at him, the answer was obvious.

Egil tightened his fists to stop his hands from shaking, "I am not an Alhstrom"

"You're the Highlord's nephew." Lord Lindberg's tone was solemn, "You have a rightful claim to the Highlord's seat."

"After Alfric's sons!"Egil yelled, but Arnulf smiled mysteriously as if he knew something that he didn't know.

"Not according to the old ways," Arnulf said, "when the lords used to choose the best, not the first, among the men of Ahlstrom's blood."

"It has been hundreds of years since the last time an Highlord was chosen that way, Lord Lindberg" Egil desperately objected.

"Aye, we adopted that custom from the southerners to avoid infighting." Lord Lindberg nodded grimly, "But to what cost? Without competition, our sons have become soft, lazy...weak."

Egil gazed at the lords in the hall. Lord Dahl was nodding, and old Sven's face was imperturbable as usual, but Fat Ozur and Karl Gilwood were shaking their heads.

"Those are dangerous words, lord Lindberg. Let's say we do as you suggest, what will happen then? The firstborns would start to distrust their brothers and the cadets to challenge their lords. Fratricide, war, infighting. Exactly what you wish to avoid."

Lord Lindberg frowned, but Egil didn't give him time to retort, "But I agree with the points made about pirates and bandits by my fellow lords. We must deal with them and..." He hesitated, "...banish the White Gowns."

Like starting a fire with dry wood, Egil's words ignited the crowd. The lords stood up, clapping their hands as they started shouting, "That's right, kick them out!" "Threw them into the sea!", "Kill them!".

Everyone was shouting, but there was one voice in particular that stood out above all the others. It was Lord Lindberg's.

"Silence!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, "Lord Egil hasn't told us yet how he intends to accomplish that." He said with a hint of sarcasm, "We all know that Lord Alfric doesn't listen to anyone, not even his oldest friend."

Lord Sven's mouth twitched, but he remained silent.

"Then I'll have to convince him." Egil said with determination.

The alternative is not an option.