《Brotherhood of the Gemstone》


 Prologue-Essay: On Caledonia

    Beware dear reader that this humble tome is mostly concerned with the Caleds. What are Caleds, you may ask? Well they are the inhabitants of the kingdom of Caledonia, set upon the isle of Bretwealda. A name that has imperial connotations and that the inhabitants modestly call the ¡®Lairdly-Isle¡¯ in response to the men of ¨¦riu dubbing their own island the ¡®Emerald-Isle¡¯. The Caleds are a northerly folk, who live between the lands just south of the Firth of the Thern in the south, and north of the Dusgaidh Highlands or Dusgaidh Mountains as they also call them. These mountains have for the past several decades formed almost as much the boundary line as any other between the Kingdom of the Caleds, and the earldom of Norlion. The people of Norlion are themselves a mixed group of Brittians (those southron folk of the kingdom of Brittia) and Caleds. But back to the Caleds, their realm extends to the Wend-River and the neighbouring Cruach-Mountains chains in the west. The isles in the west are hotly contested not only between the kingdom of Norwend and Caledonia, but by the islanders. As for the Caleds they speak a lilting tongue rather more akin to what we might term Scottish-Gaelic.


    *****


    As to the histories, they are a long winding affair. The trouble is that the history of the world could fill up many tomes, with those lands of North and South-Agenors, each able to do so. The history of Gallia and her predecessor states, alone have occupied the pens of many a scholars (most far more eminent than myself!) and has such a history that it would be an insult to attempt to encompass it in but a few pages. This is especially the case when it is not the centre of this tale, and is to be mentioned only by virtue of its peculiar bond with Caledonia. First to be discussed will be the conflicts that came to be known as the ¡®War of the Early-Days¡¯.


    At that time Cyclops had populated a large portion of the continents and their neighbouring islands. They were cruel and without much goodness, being demonic creatures that worshiped dark-gods and demons who encouraged their worst vices. The first true challenge to their power came when the oceans drank the gleaming cities of Narratsii or Narratsya as some call it, and the people of those distant lands sailed eastwards. From out of the west, came the Elves and though they were a shadow of their former glory they made war with many of the Cyclops.


    Most preferred to carry on across the waves, to Agenor, purging those lands along the way in many cases of the Cyclops, in order to liberate the slaves of those people. But a number preferred to stay in Bretwealda. The Cyclops¡¯ were not without defences, and were to push back those Elves who now called themselves the Sk¨®gr?lf ¡®Tree-folks¡¯ and the fey-folk Fairies they had allied with. Some of these Elves took to the Mountains where they were to adopt different practices and the name ¡®Sagndar¡¯ to differentiate themselves from their ¡®wretched¡¯ forest-cousins. But the reality was that Sk¨®gr?lf and Sagndar alike had been banished from the south, and all but abandoned by those Elves who had continued eastwards towards the distant lands known only as the ¡®Golden Gardens¡¯.


    For eons it seemed, the Elves held the line with the assistance of the odd Golem, and in time Dwarves. Arriving from the east, initially to form a large continents spanning Empire, the Dwarves had lost their empire and were fleeing the chaos and came to the island to seek refuge, wherefore the Cyclops had sought to enslave and devour them. Fleeing north themselves now, they made for the deep recesses below the mountains. Finer smiths than the Elves, who could not abide iron of any sort, the Dwarves nonetheless set to work forging fine weapons, which they shared with men and Wolframs (who also came from across the waves).


    Thus armed, they threw themselves against the Cyclops¡¯ in countless wars. In time this became ill-advised and after more land was lost, the Elves rounded upon the Dwarves and warred with them, blaming them for the losses. The Dwarves pulled farther into their mountains, with the fathers of men angry at the loss of iron weapons and blaming the Elves for this. Only the Wolframs¡¯ held fast against the monstrous lairds in the south.


    *****


    Into this age hither came Fionnlagh a chieftain of a small tribe, by the name of the Fionnii. The father of many sons, many of whom proved far braver or more foolish than he ever was, with the best example of this being the youngest of his sons. This impulsive youth was keen to save the people in the south, from the Cyclops¡¯ chieftain Ygorln who captured and slew the lad with Fionnlagh and his remaining sons going to the Elves for aid. This they would not do, for they had grown comfortable with their current lot in life. Complacent, the Elves turned him away advising him to give up on his son.


    This Fionnlagh the Great-Father would not do, and by this time in his seventieth year he plunged south with his sons giving chase, to try to dissuade him or to support him. Ygorin slaughtered them to a man with ease. Outraged by this, his last remaining son Uthard the Sword, armed with one of the few remaining Dwarfsteel blades still to be found in the north marched south now. Left behind, to act as chieftain of the tribes in the north, he rallied a great number of them to his banner, wherefore he advanced south.


    Meeting with the Elf-chiefs he delivered a great speech, shaming them for their abandonment of his father. It was while he was there; he invited the Wolfram chiefs to form with the Wilder Elves the ¡®Pact of Fionnlagh¡¯. What followed was the last of the Wars of the Early Ages; it ended in Uthard and his forces pushing the Cyclops¡¯ south of the Wulf and Neirin Rivers. Peace followed, with Uthard perishing to illness in his sixty-third year. After him, his sworn-brother the Wolfram chieftain Malo Grey-Mantle, assumed the kingship. He ruled for but six years, ere he passed on also except when he passed away, his son was named as his heir.


    From there the Wolframs or ¡®Wolf-folks¡¯ as others called them, assumed the kingship of the people whom Uthard had led south in the wars against the Cyclops. As the centuries passed, they ceased to comport themselves as wolves might but rather as jackals. They took advantage of those other than themselves, taxed them more than their own tribesmen and even began to imitate the Cyclops¡¯ slavery-practices and even at times traded with them.


    This ceased when the last of the kings took the crown, he was Griogair the Fair-Minded. A just monarch, he freed many of the slaves, ceased trade with the Cyclops¡¯ and once more sought the counsel of the Elves. But they turned away from him.


    His efforts were undermined by his Queen, who desired neither peace nor reconciliation with men, so that she often behind his back ordered harsher measures against them. The result was a civil war that rocked the kingdom, and saw Griogair¡¯s sons slain in a series of battles by the rebel-chieftain Roparzh. A direct descendant of Uthard, one whom Griogair could not bring himself to harm until his kingdom lay in ruins, and the two met in the field. The duel that ensued between them saw Roparzh hew down the Wolf-King.


    Roparzh-King as he was later known was not a bad ruler or an unfeeling man. Rather, he was one in the mould of Griogair himself and preferred to spare the remaining Wolframs. He also broke the Dwarfsteel blade of Uthard used to slay Griogair. After this, he turned his men south and led them against the last of the Cyclops, at last laying them low and pushing their demonic sort from the islands forever.


    *****


    The line of kings descended from Roparzh were not a united kingdom, but rather a federation of small tribal kingdoms some focused around small wooden forts others not. It happened that while the Pact of Fionnlagh fell apart, and Roparzh¡¯s line established a series of kingdoms events were also ongoing on the Continent. The Elvish kingdoms there, established by cousins of Brigantius the Elf-chieftain of the Wilder-Elves or Sk¨®gr?lf, had been broken. Rocked by civil-strife and continuous internal feuding, those in the lands near the isles, who had been likewise abandoned by the Elves that went east, became increasingly tribal. They also became divided betwixt the Sk¨®gr?lf and the Sagndar. They and the tribes of men in the lands east of their once-kingdom were to be assailed now by a new threat.


    By this time thousands of years separated the exodus of the Elves, and the return of a corrupted branch of those people, twisted by malice as much as by dark gods and demons.


    The second of the great conflicts are those that became known as the ¡®First Wars of Darkness¡¯. They involved the Dark Elves or Svart¨¢lfar as they call themselves hereon referred to as Dark Elves. All-conquering, as they worshipped the evil Dark Queen of Nifleheimr, and her father the wicked trickster Loki.


    These people laid low the Continental lands, but that will be discussed in a moment. First the invasion of the shores of Bretwealda will have to be discussed.


    They first came to the shores in the south where they subdued many of Roparzh-King¡¯s descendants and peoples. For decades the war raged. It is said that in their anguish the people of the west turned to the gods, who took pity upon them. They could not directly interfere, but one of the strange tri-unicorns (in the east they were known as ¡®Kirins¡¯) agreed to die (there are tales that three others also did, but those are tales for another time). His spirit was reborn into a man, a woodsman¡¯s son. This lad was named Cormac, and he it was who rallied the Caleds to the rescue of the southron folk, and who fought to save the Elves who were the Dark Elves¡¯ true objective. He it was also who rallied many of the Wolframs. During this war, he fought desperately alongside a rising southern king by the name of Roparzh (an heir of the line of Uthard). This Roparzh, known as the ¡®Reclaimer¡¯ for it was he who fought to reclaim the lost lands of his forbears, who was truly in command.


    Jealous, after the last of the Dark Elves had been laid low, and darkness was chased from the shores of Bretwealda, he would chase Cormac shortly thereafter. This was the first of the ruptures betwixt the north and south. What was more was that when Cormac left to go across the Glacial Sea to the far north, he brought with him a vast number of Elves. Most of them preferred to depart with him on this dangerous voyage, leaving but a small number of their kin behind on the Lairdly-Island.


    Cormac did not simply leave for greener pastures, as it was said that he left to continue the war in the north where the Arns millennia later came from.


    Roparzh meanwhile, established himself as ruler of lands that approximate those of Hwicce, Gewisse and the western lands of Estria. It was on the shores as far south from the Caled lands as possible, and upon the hill where Fionnlagh had perished centuries before that he established a city. This city was later to be conquered by Roma, who renamed it Colonia Luciania, and was later renamed once more by the locals Auldchester. In honour of how it was the oldest of Bretwealda¡¯s great cities (after Sgain). It was thereupon the shores or in his wooden-fort that Roparzh the Reclaimer, often looked out across the Channel to Gallia. And it was there that he likely dreamt of what might well have been, and what he wished to be...


    *****


    Simply put, the first state in what has become Gallia is that of Zulvrain, spawned in the terrible and bloody conflicts with the all-conquering Dark Elves. Founded by an impulsive dark-sorcerer named Aganippe who poured much of his hatred for them, and ambition into the gemstone, he used it to trap the dragon Zomok within it. The gem would decades later come to claim the spirits of his children, his wife and even himself, before his nephew sought to be rid of it. After this the Zulvrain had a slow yet steady decline, until the Romalians came across the Dia¨ªresian Sea that divided North and South-Agenors from one another. Roma was an imperialist power that had united all peoples and conquered all that she had come across hitherto her entry into the lands of North-Agenor (with a few possible exceptions). They soon destroyed the Zulvrain kingdoms, annexed most of the region ere they returned hither to their own lands to engage in an extended civil-war.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The conflict ended with the establishment of the Principate, in place of the ¡®Res-Publica¡¯ (Public-Thing or Common-Weal of Roma). The Principate returned, re-conquered these lands and assimilated them. In time, in the reign of the Princeps Lucian, they were to extend their empire as far west as the island of Bretwealda.


    *****


    The island of Bretwealda was for the first time since the Dark Elves, included in Continental affairs to a greater extent than mere petty raids and trade, by the Legions of Roma. The south was soon divided between those willing to recognise Roma¡¯s authority and those not.


    Many were they who hearkened back to the age of Roparzh the Reclaimer, falling back to songs of that great age of heroes. Unfortunately, the few who sought to emulate Roparzh were few and far in between, and generally not very successful at rallying their fellow tribesmen. Eight centuries of constant tribal warfare and internecine conflict had weakened the little unity on the isle.


    Roma¡¯s legions led by the Princeps Lucian, who was an old hand at war and conquered all the way up to the Lion-River, thereby the river he turned back. Quite why is still a mystery. Likely it had to do with his concerns regarding the supply-train. The south was to be consolidated in the next hundred years or so, with the increasingly Romalian south was to be subject to countless raids from Cymru and Caledonia neither of whom had surrendered.


    But it was about this time that a branch of the Caleds, the Pechii or the ¡®Pechs¡¯ began to become the prevalent tribe. It was they who had gone on to assimilate neighbouring tribes and to push ever more southwards. They neither recognised the values of the ancient Pact of Fionnlagh, nor cared for the Wolframs. Pushed south, many of the Caled tribes were however pushed north by the Romalians, wherefore they turned westwards or in other cases joined with the Pechs. The Pechs and Roma entered into a raid-war one where the borders were poorly defined.


    This lasted until the Romalians pushed as far north as the Highlands. It was there that the Pech Talorcan, rallied his people and countless others, and sought to wage a war which involved hit and run. This sort of violence had its way and saw a fair amount of results until the Princeps, the Ogre Kadrianus.


    He had inherited his position after Lucian¡¯s dynasty had died out, and had been adopted into the next dynasty after proving himself one of the finest generals alive. Cunning and strong as no man could be, he saw the needlessness of this war and preferred to give ground. Pulling back south of the Lam-River, he had a large wall built one that bore his name. It was to be manned by the legions present in Brittia, those that remained there until the collapse of Roma.


    *****


    When collapse came, it was harder for those of North-Agenor. The collapse came after nigh on a hundred and thirty years of continuous civil-war. It was not long, before successive empires in South-Agenor arose to lay claim to the legacy of Roma. None ever fully did. As to the north, it was left to find its own way as tribal barbarians flooded the frontiers, to establish large kingdoms.


    On the Lairdly-Isle some of the legions notably the VII ¡®Luciania¡¯ legion sought to dig its heels in. They were however pushed from the centre of Brittia by one warlord after another. The legion and its men¡¯s kin established themselves in the Saesonian peninsula. It was there that they mixed with the tribesmen, to form a unique blend of semi-Cymran tribal kingship with some Romalian form of civility. The great Brickanian Wall named after the last general Brickanius, was their last truly monumental feat on their own. Seventy years after the construction of this wall (begun twenty-three years after Roma left the isle), a man of Caled extraction by the name of Artuir, it was he who established a kingdom in the north of Brittia. There he forged a ¡®cross-wall¡¯ realm (one that stretched from one side to the other of Kadrianus¡¯s Wall), one which combined Romalian laws and justice with Brittian values. To the south pushing up against the formerly controlled legion territory were tribes from the Continent. Arriving from abroad, these men known as ?lle and Vengrist were fierce warriors and established large kingdoms. These kingdoms took up the names of Gewisse and Hwicce, and that exerted a great deal of influence over the island. These colonising tribes also begat other nations throughout the land, of Brittia: Those of Argoed, Rheged, Sudlam and Estria all kingdoms that warred endlessly for the next centuries with one another, as they forgot much of their history and ancient heritage.


    Artuir died as all mortal men do, and his son Lachlan succeeded to the throne, he was to be slain by an alliance between the chieftain of the Wilder-Elves, Vulkuinas and M?rwine II of Estwulf. The two desired the wealth of Artuir¡¯s kingdom. Only one of them got it, as M?rwine had no intention of sharing with his stupid ally, whom he immediately betrayed to the Elf¡¯s disgust.


    Some of Artuir¡¯s followers withdrew to the almost spherical shaped peninsula of Valumtia. There they built for themselves a kingdom, and reorganised under the rule of one of Artuir¡¯s rivals, King Theoric.


    *****


    In the north, the Pechs established a great kingdom, one that spanned from the Thern-River to the lands of Norwend in the north. The centre of this great capital was the region now known as Sgain, or Fortriu. Sgain was the name given to the city that had once been the site of the home of Sgair the Golem, ere he was destroyed by the Romalians.


    The Pech Kingdom stretched to the western isles also, but that region was in time conquered by some of ¨¦riu¡¯s tribesmen.


    Over the centuries this chaotic multiple kingdom period, which involved countless wars, hardly changed at all. It came about that almost half-a-millennia after the fall of Roma, the Dark Elves returned with reinforcements from the east, as a large army of the ¡®living-dead¡¯ or Unliving as many called them. This was what threatened the kingdom of Neustria with the Dark Elves and a small contingent of Unliving arrived upon the Lairdly-Isle.


    The war that followed was violent, and considerably shorter than the previous one. Most of the kingdoms struggled especially after the King of Gewisse Ealdhelm with four of his sons fell in the battle of the Reudhfields. Invaded from the north and east, by the kingdoms of Hwicce, Bernicia (a new dynasty had re-established the kingdom) and Morwyn, Estria came near to being destroyed. It was for Wigheard Ealdhelm¡¯s son to flee to his mother¡¯s people in Cymru, there he found safety until he came of age and return to reclaim his homeland. During this time, his neighbours were cast into disarray themselves, by the Dark Elves.


    From the north swept down the Caleds and Pechs, went south after they had repelled the Unliving who had threatened their own homelands. The kingdom of the isles established by the ¨¦riu had absorbed a great deal of the Caleds, forming a kingdom by the name of R¨ªocht-Riada. Led by the great King Achaius I, the mightiest of the kings of R¨ªocht-Riada who went on to claim the Pechish throne as he had a claim via one of his grandmothers. When he did claim the throne the lands north of the Wend broke away, forming the kingdom of Norwend.


    Advised to head north to reclaim this kingdom, Achaius preferred to head south to rescue the south, forming as he went the League of the Nine Kingdoms. It comprised of R¨ªocht-Riada, Pechavia, Norlion, Rheged, Bernicia, Gewisse, Ergyng and Saesonia. At first Gewisse preferred to remain outside of it, but was soon to benefit from it as did Hwicce and Argoed.


    It was Achaius who rescued the lands of the Lairdly-Isle, and he who strove the most mightily against the Dark Elves and repelling them at last from the shores of the island. This he did with his Dragonsteel sword, leader of all the armies of Bretwealda he broke the Dark Elves and Unliving at the battle of Auldchester. After this, he led a portion of the armies of Bretwealda east into Neustria, to assist Aemiliemagne in fighting the Dark Elves and their vast hordes there.


    *****


    The wars that followed took up fifteen years of Achaius¡¯s life, and by the end of it he returned to his homeland, with one of Aemiliemagne¡¯s daughters for a bride, a great deal of gold and still more wars to fight. For Norlion and Norwend had taken to raiding and attempting to steal land from him. The rest of his reign was spent repelling them now, and fighting off usurpers.


    That is until he lay ill in a monastery of the god Fufluns (the god of agriculture and farming), near the Thern-River. It was there that he was slain, by one of his rivals who usurped the throne and sought to slay his sons and claim his widow for himself.


    She fled to R¨ªocht-Riada, where she found refuge with Achaius¡¯s cousin Tavish the Ship-Builder. By this time, it must be understood that the Pechs had appreciated Achaius¡¯s strength and vigour, but not his passion for his faith. A religion they had not all converted to; that of Quirinas. The Quirinian faith with its doctrine of twelve-gods and many Paragons had upset them. This along with their innate hostility towards the people of R¨ªocht-Riada had meant that they welcomed his usurpers with open arms.


    What followed was a diminishment of Pechavia, along with the other Bretwealda kingdoms. While these kingdoms fought the Dark Elves both in the south and on the Continent, raiders had come from the north, from across the Glacial-Sea. These pirates were Arnish Viking-raiders, men who followed war-gods and who desired gold and silver and land. At first they raided temples in small numbers, and coastal areas then they began to come hither in ever increasing numbers. They had already over-taken a large number of the establishments on the Misty-Island to the north. They now overtook and destabilized almost every kingdom on Bretwealda.


    *****


    Under Helgi the Terrible, a gargantuan heathen army invaded, conquered the whole of the east of Bretwealda, then a great deal of the west. Until only a fragment of R¨ªocht-Riada and Gewisse, along with Norwend remained to resist the evil Arnish conqueror, who went on to conquer ¨¦riu. There he built a majestic castle, thanks to his Ogre slave, a Master-Builder of some renown. In the south the weak line of Cedric, under its final king the son of Wigheard III, Cedric II was at last usurped and replaced. This new line was to father far stronger, greater kings who built high keeps and in time undertook the repulsion of the Arnish warlords. Once they had confined them to the ¡®Arnlaw¡¯ and thus to the status of vassals, they attempted to lay claim to the other northern lands.


    As to Pechavia, it staggered on, until R¨ªocht-Riada¡¯s final king Cin¨¢ed MacAchaius, who avenged his father, took up the throne of Pechavia after he slaughtered her nobles and the last of his rivals. Crowned High-King, he was to set about fighting to safeguard his newly founded kingdom.


    *****


    It would not be until his grandson¡¯s time Causant¨ªn II the Wise that the two kingdoms fully formed into Brittia in the south and Caledonia in the north. The Caleds, ¨¦rians and Pechs all united, they formed new alliances and fought in a series of battles against Brittia to keep the south from annexing them. The most noteworthy was D¨²n Brunde in the year 611 which saw thousands dead. After this war, Causant¨ªn withdrew to the north, where he retired in time and his successor sought to continue his work, to heal the land and kingdom. The trouble was that while Causant¨ªn had been crowned king by the second Cormac, a hero who had discovered the Stone of Sgair, the heart of the Golem and crowned Causant¨ªn upon it. His successor was the son of Causant¨ªn¡¯s cousin, a madman adopted by the old King. The people had not forgotten this, and neither had some of Causant¨ªn¡¯s greedy sons. Thus, civil war for the next almost a century resulted in Caledonia.


    In the south, the kingdom of Brittia was in hardly any greater condition as it began to crumble under despotic and highly idiotic kings. That is until R?dwald the Usurper took the throne, and reunited the kingdom. His own reign was a rocky one, yet it lasted for twenty-five years and saw the first period of peace in Brittia¡¯s history. This was considered a golden age for the people, though the nobles despised it. R?dwald was a strong monarch, and this they could not tolerate. After him, his line was overthrown and replaced with the previous one.


    They then went on to be usurped this time by a Norse-King, who established his own line on the throne, only for his heirs to prove as wanton and foolish as the heirs of the line of ?thelwulf.


    *****


    What of the Misty-Island of Antilia, you may ask? Little is known. Centaurs lived there for a time, this much was known. When the Dwarves travelled to Bretwealda it was said that the northern-island had been newly raised from the sea for them and the Centaurs who wished to find peace there, away from the Continent¡¯s wars.


    Men went there also and established gleaming cities, ones that grew in majesty and beauty, as they were left isolated from the outside world. Elves also came in time, and were to form some semblance of peace with Men and Dwarves. Untouched by the Dark Elves, they in place of them had Amazons to fear. Namavo is a series of islands far to the south to the west of South-Agenor, specifically of the lands of the Ogres known as Korax. Conquered and in disarray by the Viking-raiders of the north, many Namavians had however picked up the drakkars and sought to cruelly raid both Agenors. They had gone north with most easily fought off by the people of Bretwealda and ¨¦riu (the latter was struggling with the evil Warlock-King of Amadan, whom most Amazons preferred not to menace). Thus defeated, they had established colonies in the lands of the Twelve Kingdoms (the twelve successor states of Neustria) and Antilia.


    When the time came, Northmen ere their conquests in Bretwealda took each of the cities from the unprepared men of the Misty-Island, building up their own kingdoms to replace them. It happened that the Amazons and Centaurs, formerly marked enemies joined together to seek to defy the Norse. They failed, and were reduced to their western-holdings with the Amazons only newly arrived upon Antilia themselves.


    It was almost a century and a half when the Norl¨¦anians arrived upon the Misty-Isle. Former Arns who had colonized the west-lands of Neustria known as Ouestria, these knights had sailed in search of fresh lands to conquer. Keen to find new lands due to the overpopulation in the lands they had dubbed Norl¨¦ans, these knights carved out their own lands from their Nordic cousins.


    *****


    But into this contest for power and age of conflict came the Dark Laird. Little is known of this figure, only that he had ancient roots, some said these tied him back to the Dark Elves others Roma. Not that it truly matters, as this shadowy figure, who had connections to both Dark Elves who had been ruled by their own distant Dark Laird and Roma, wielded powers and arts unseen for many centuries. Overtaking many of the holdings of the Jarls of the Arnish lands of Antilia, and some of the keeps and lands in Gallia the kingdom that had reunited much of Neustria, all feared it for all know that war is inevitable.

 Chapter I.1: A Long-Await鈥檇 Festival

    When a date for the autumn festival of the Paragon Muireall, was at last set, there was considereable relief. The date in question was that of the fourteenth of the ninth month of An t-Sultain. Years prior, it had been set a day prior which had not ended badly, with the date always moving forward by one year and a day. The difficulty lay in the druid¡¯s frequent inability to remember to forego the unlucky number as a date, for the favourite festival of his flock.


    They had learnt to dread more than any other date, the thirteenth of the ninth month. For ¡®twas upon that date that the worst storm they had ever borne witness to, struck the local coast. Glasvhail was ordinarily a peaceful place. ¡®Dull¡¯ some dubbed it ungenerously. However, for those who lived there, tending to the land and the local sheep or liked to fish nearby, so that it was as paradise to those who preferred a quieter sort of life. Not for seventy years had a single man been slain or been suffered to join in the once many wars of the lairds and kings of Caledonia. Therefore it was a place, of supreme quiet, joy and rich food. For this reason, the loss of Murchadh the fisherman, during a great storm nine years ago had quite naturally shocked a great many locals.


    None more so than Kenna the seamstress, who had been wife to the unfortunate fisherman. Such was her horror that she had been bedridden at the time, so intense was her grief. In time, she had awoken from her bed, if only to care for her son, whom she swore to make a finer man than his father. She had sworn to forge him, not into the sort of lackadaisical, easily distracted man that her husband had been but into a better man: Sadly for her, her efforts had long sinc been deemed a failure in the eyes of her neighbours. For Cormac was not only absent-minded, but where his father had appeared wise and genial, the son was so utterly absent in mind and in body when most had need of him that, he was believed to be empty-headed. Still, somehow he managed to figure into many more conversations than most other local lads had a tendency of doing, as was the case for those of the house of Conn, the local druid of Glasvhail.


    *****


    When Rothien was in the midst of spring, the whole of the hamlet of Glasvhail tended to rouse itself, from the stupor left behind by winter. Not simply because, it meant life was renewed, but because of the great ¡®Spring-Solstice¡¯ festival that all of the locals celebrated with an almost, manic glee. All save one man of course. This one was of course, the fifty-five year old druid of the village, and its surrounding farms, as he had the very difficult and wearisome task of organising the festival. Whereupon the whole of the land became frantic with activity as all sought to bring in as much agriculture and fish in preparation for the coming winter. In the year when this story begins, Conn, the druid in question was in particularly dire straits as he faced the coming of age of his second to youngest daughter, Helga. His favourite, he struggled to reconcile himself with the notion that he must marry her off. Sworn to Scota, the great goddess of the Caleds, he had as his father before him, managed the wooden shrine, dedicated to her, all his life since his predecessor had passed away. The expectation was that without a son, to succeed him he must either move to secure some other man to succeed him, or find himself a good-son or grandson to do so. His two eldest daughters had married well with one marrying a fisherman, a man of some means and gentility, who had inherited the finest boat in Glasvhail. As to the eldest daughter of the druid, she had wed a local laird, the laird of Bj?rndun, by the name of Lauchlan¡¯s third son, Mungo. The laird of Bj?rndun had taken her into his house with the son she had married, succeeding his childless uncle as chief huscarl of the house of Bj?rndun. Therefore, it fell upon Helga to bring him a proper heir into his house. The trouble was as he was soon to discover, the lad whom she adored was the worst possible lad in the village in his eyes. For Conn respected hard-work, persistence and intelligence. All of which when he called her hither was to come out, doing so late one evening with beer made from local barley wheat flowing easily. With his wife Ainsley, his second eldest and two younger daughters all at hand, his good-son Bh¨¤tair, and three of his wife¡¯s friends, whom were all wealthy merchants¡¯ wives that had grown up with Ainsley at hand to feast with him. Their table which stood proud in the midst of the small mead-hall was gay and full of laughter, with none more full of joy that day than Conn himself. There was to his mind, good, respectable company at hand, the harvest had been good, his sheep (for even a well-to do druid had to do sheepherding in those days) were fat this year and the preparations for the festival were coming along nicely.


    ¡°Yes papa,¡± His dearest daughter responded as she took up a seat by his side, between him and his wife with a happy look in her eyes that pleased him.


    The fire was well-lit some way down from them, to the center of the building just below the chimney hole in the center of the large domicile next to the temple where he did much of his work. Bathed in the warmth and in the light of the fire, he almost dozed off only to rouse himself, as he questioned the young woman, regarding a subject he both dreaded and awaited anxiously.


    ¡°I must ask you, though I am at some pains to do so, given the nature of this particular subject,¡± He prevaricated for some time, which inspired Ainsley to grow impatient with him where their daughter grew incredibly bemused herself with his discomfort.


    ¡°Aye, father I do have a man in mind, though I am not so certain, you will take to him half so well as mother has,¡± Helga said stoutly, with a roll of her eyes in the direction of her sister, Doada who being the elder by eight years and having gone through the exact same conversation nigh on a decade prior, well-understood her exasperation. The slow-witted man was often the butt of jests however he was rarely if ever aware of it, in spite of this he was well-beloved in the locality. ¡°What say you of Cormac, son of Murchadh the Fisherman?¡±


    At her words a tremendous choking sound resonated throughout the domicile, along with a series of chortles and snorts. The terrible gagging noise originated from Conn himself, whereas the chortle stemmed from his second eldest Doada and the snort her husband who appeared every bit as incredulously as his good-father. For several long minutes all that could be heard, were the patriarch¡¯s attempts to swallow his beer, whilst his daughter stared askance and wife gave him a reproving look.


    ¡°C-C-Cormac?!¡± He bellowed when he could speak again, his voice hoarse and hardly above a whisper. ¡°Surely you jest!¡±


    His disgust towards the lad in question, who was fortunately absent to hear the man speak so poorly of him, was hardly welcomed by the lass of sixteen seasons. Her countenance changed from one of expectant yet that of a decidedly feminine joyous manner of a young maid in the full bloom of young love, to one of shocked outrage. She was quick to be enveloped in her mother¡¯s arms, as she sunk into tears to his horror and her younger sister Eillidh¡¯s great peals of laughter, as she hooted at the thought of the fisherman¡¯s son.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Really father, you should not speak so of Cormac- and do stop Eillidh!¡± the eldest of Conn¡¯s daughters present in Glasvhail objected, ever quick to protect her sister as though, she were her own rather than but a younger sibling, one that she had once detested, ten years prior.


    It was however to her husband, she reserved her most piercing look. Her husband adopted the abashed expression of a well-nagged man, who knew his final hour had come upon him were he to continue, his present behaviour, whereupon he mumbled a swift apology. Still, his shoulders shook the moment her head and back were once more to him, as she turned her wroth upon the youngest of her sisters.


    ¡°Really Conn, you asked her to name who she most desired, and Cormac is a respectable lad.¡± Ainsley defended with the sort of scowl that might otherwise have properly subdued, her fat boisterous husband, who so filled with contempt for the lad in question could not repress a snort.


    ¡°Oh aye, aye if by respectable you mean layabout,¡± Grunted the druid who did not much like the fisherman¡¯s son. ¡°His is possibly the laziest youth in all of Glasvhail- nay let alone all of Rothien, nary has there ever been a more unsuitable man for my office.¡± He paused to take a sip before continuing. ¡°All he does most days, is stare out at sea, or run about near the fairy-woods and avoid the sort of toil a lad his age, ought to be occupied with.¡±


    The woods he referred to were the Dyrkwoods, an infamous place to the south-west of the village, which was notable principally for the great big oak that appeared to stand guard just outside it. The oak was one that had been ancient, one that was said to stretched back into Conn¡¯s great-grandfather¡¯s time. It was a majestic thing that was a short distance from the woods. A sinister place, with a formidable reputation and legends of fairies living in it, it is said that it was there that the warrior Ciaran had fallen. From the spot that he had been struck by a pixie-dart, which had caused a wound that had not healed it is said, for nigh on twenty-years. Such was the force of their spite for his foolish, hot-tempered words against them, at one of their feasts when he spurned their Queen.


    The spot where he had fallen, it was said that the largest of all the oaks of Rothien had grown from, one that all the children and elders of the land tended to remark was destined to never fall. Conn had always spoken out against the oak, he had on many occasions refused to draw a single hatchet or allow others to do so, against this great oak. The reason for this, if he was ever honest was entirely due to his own fear, of the fey-folk whom he was convinced lived in the nearby woods.


    Cormac was along with the blacksmith¡¯s daughter, the only one willing to approach the oak and the woods. This might well have seemed brave, were it not for the fact that he did so simply to snooze with his back against the tree, something that not only horrified many of the locals but disgusted the older members of the locality. For they felt this to be a wildly disrespectful deed, with these same members of the region likely to have preferred it, had he avoided the spot too with many prone to whispering that there was something very queer about the lad.


    However, when Conn brought up this very issue or more specifically the queer nature of the lad and some of the other peculiarities that haunted him, the women in his family objected. What was worse that wherever he wandered he was confronted by Helga¡¯s passion which further bewildered him. ¡°How can you love such a man, who is a layabout, who knows naught but to stare at woods, water and stars? He has accomplished so little, so that in this way he is no different from his father.¡± This led to Conn muttering without any real prompting, ¡°His father Murchadh was mighty queer too. Had a tendency to take his boat out farther than others, to return either with no fish, other times with more salmon than any of us had ever seen. He also loved that accursed oak, and I could never quite tell what Kenna the weaver was thinking, when she accepted to be his. Or quite why, he insisted upon setting out to sea in the midst of a storm¡­¡± His words drifted off, as he became lost for a few moments in his own thoughts, quite what they were only he could have known.


    No sooner had he finished his grumbling, did Helga object in defence of the subject of her adoration, ¡°Cormac is no fool, he is kind!¡±


    ¡°And funny! He knows all sorts of funny jests, and tells the strangest fairy stories!¡± Eillidh piped up at last, seeing a chance to leap into the midst of the conversation between the adults that surrounded her.


    ¡°He is more than that, he is peculiar, why Bh¨¤tair, you have spoken to him in the past, and knew his father did you not?¡± Conn inquired sharply of his good-son, who in the midst of draining his drinking horn, was startled before he hurriedly confirmed that yes, he knew Cormac.


    ¡°Why he is the son of mad old Murchadh!¡± Bh¨¤tair called ignoring the sharp look his wife gave him.


    ¡°Mad? Why do you call him that?¡± Helga queried irritably.


    ¡°Because he was lass, he was the only man mad enough to embark on his fishing-boat in the midst of a storm, in spite of how all could see it was a fool¡¯s errand.¡± Conn snorted disdainfully, utterly convinced of the rectitude of his own wisdom and that those of whom he spake lacked all semblance of it.


    ¡°Regardless his madness, you asked who I would take for a husband, and I answered father,¡± His favourite daughter answered stiffly, much to his displeasure. He never liked to make her, or any others in his family wholly miserable.


    The insolence of his daughters persisted, were he but a little wiser, the druid might well have noticed that they were too united in their efforts. Yet he was not so, he fancied himself wise and cunning beyond comparison. With Bh¨¤tair likewise falling into the trap for which the three ladies had prepared for the head of the family, ¡°Bah, you are pretty enough Helga, and may have any other man, why request Murchadh¡¯s son?¡±


    ¡°Because, there is no other like him in the village,¡± Said Helga persistently to the dismay of the men and bemusement of her younger sister.


    ¡°What of Daegan, the blacksmith¡¯s daughter?¡±  This time the question drew more than a scowl, with a flush flying across her fair cheeks up to her small ears.


    ¡°Daegan¡¯s funny also,¡± Eillidh hooted only to be shushed by her mother.


    The mention of the daughter of Corin, the smith was one that Conn had meant to bring up, if slightly more delicately. The difficulty lay in just how sensitive she could be, in marked contrast to the woman of whom they spoke. The suit presented by his child, was unlikely to proceed in his view, as the lass mentioned by his good-son was inseparable from Cormac. For reasons that escaped him, just as Kenna the seamstress¡¯s union with Murchadh had been the subject of confusion nigh on a generation ago also.


    Conn¡¯s next attempt some time later, to make her rethink her choice in partner was to end only in the young woman persisting, ¡°Cormac or no one at all.¡±


    Her words served only to exacerbate, the heated atmosphere in the small mead-hall. Helga wept for a time, and entreated her mother to aid her, with the older woman and Doada scolding him all evening. Still he would not bend. He had made his decision. Why the thought of Cormac, inheriting his position was enough to send him into an apoplexy of shock and horror. Something that he was at great pains to inform, everyone he spoke to over the next several hours.


    It was the next morn¡¯ when he conceded defeat, as they all knew he would; this in spite of his great dislike for the lad in question.

 Chapter I.2: A Long Awaitd Festival

    An-t-Sultain in the year, of 719 of the Saviour was a magnificent time, crisp and not at all as cool as the previous year when all shuffled along, shivering up and down the unpaved road of the sea-side landscape. A week after the discussion with Helga, the rain that had haunted that night abated to the gratitude of all those who lived nearby. During which time, many of the local fishermen, who were responsible for feeding the vast majority of the locals took ever more to the sea. Keen as they were to gather enough fish, in preparation of the autumn festival of Fufluns, the god of the harvest.


    Days passed with every house bustling with activity and every boat perpetually out at sea. None were more preoccupied than Kenna the seamstress, due to the popularity of this particular festival with the local lasses. Each one of them, along with also those who were older with little time for weaving or knitting, and in possession of spare coin or food were keen to turn to her for assistance. Her only aid in this trying time was her assistant Indulf and her goddaughter Daegan. Daegan was the daughter of her deceased friend Olith, and the local blacksmith Corin. From dawn to dusk, the former where he could ordinarily be found not only aiding his mother Ida, or his fianc¨¦e Inga, he was instead found bent over his loom in his teacher¡¯s shop. Shy, more so than the rest of those who lived nearby, which included his younger brother the rather loud Trygve or his excitable love, Inga. So that a great many of those who lived in the local area, preferred to leave him be, attempted to prompt him into chattering with them, if unsuccessfully (this being whensoever they saw him).


    Kenna was of a completely different nature. Loud by nature, she was an argumentative woman of middling height and years, one whom had a tendency to either be greatly loved or despised. Notably by the family, that lived nearest to her for they had long hungered for the land she had inherited from her teacher, Eachann who had taught her the art and business of weaving. He had also taught her to dye cloth, with his knowledge of such things rare even in those days. Long since deceased by a fair amount of years he had been respected, and even admired by most. Her complaints regarding this year were far worst and more strident than any others, in the vicinity of Glasvhail, so that even those who hated her such as Frang and his wife Lucrais felt irritated by her son¡¯s absence.


    ¡°He ought to be herewith Indulf and I! How dare he scamper off, to who knows where to do who knows what!¡± Screeched brown-haired Kenna, who had in a matter of days developed the habit (more than usual) of chewing the ears of any and all who visited her at some length, on the topic of her son; whom she felt had let her down more than at any other time. Still considered pretty by some if she were to only cease scowling and yelling so often at present none dared correct her. Ida, her closest friend, Indulf and Daegan were amongst the only ones who ever did.


    Where was Cormac during such a time of chaos, you may ask? He was off visiting, with his missing father¡¯s finest friend, Corin. Born abroad, the blacksmith had appeared nigh on twenty years prior after a storm had tore apart the coasts of the kingdom of Caledonia, whereupon he was found at sea by Murchadh. Wounded he was not expected to survive at the time, he was nursed back to proper health by the lady Olith, whom he married only to succeed her father as the blacksmith of Glasvhail. A skilled artisan, one whom was the only man in the locality outside of Freygil to speak highly of the lad¡¯s father, it was for this reason he was prone to visiting his home.


    ¡°They are both queer if you ask me,¡± Grumbled the Salmon, the dour-natured grandfather of Inga who was grey-bearded and with few hairs still left upon the top of his round head. Like with Kenna, his face was at almost all times twisted into the form of a scowl. Salmon¡¯s actual name was Muirdach the Fisher for his immense success as a fisherman, a trade and art-form he held above all others. His was a pessimistic nature, so that he had never truly taken to either Corin or Cormac. ¡°Hardly any good has ever come out of anything they have ever done.¡±


    ¡°But what of Daegan? Without uncle Murchadh rescuing Corin, she would not be alive to-day,¡± Inga objected at once, the young seventeen year old woman was pretty, blonde and a great admirer of the smith¡¯s fifteen year old daughter. This in spite of her being the other lass¡¯ senior by twenty-five months, not that this bothered the romantic girl who was promised to Indulf.


    ¡°Bah, as though she or her father, have truly done much good, for our village,¡± Complained Salmon harshly with a slight grunt of indifference. ¡°In any case the lass could stand to also be humbled as she is by far the most arrogant wench I have ever beheld.¡±


    His words drew many an eye-rolls and long-suffering remarks from all those about him, for they all thought him far in a way the most arrogant person of any sort in the locality.


    What was more, to call this a village, was something of an exaggeration, what with how it was simply a series of farms, smithies and shops, aligned along the near-eternally unpaved road.


    The Erlbaryn Mountains loomed in the distance, to the south, the Narthern River before them to the north. Rothien was very plentiful as far as farming communities went. With many travelers visiting it throughout the year, most especially, when there was a festival near ¡®Castle-Fidach¡¯, where the Mormaer of Fidach resided. A man descended from the Duibh blood-line, one that traced its lineage back to the illegitimately born High-King of the Caleds, Duibh himself. With the man¡¯s son Giric having forsworn his place in the line of succession to the thistle-crown, the MacDuibh family had become trusted advisors of the royal line whom they were cousins to. Their lands bordered those of Strawthern in the south, and were originally a well-positioned check upon the power and growing influence of that southron line. In more recent times, the MacDuibh line had come to favour with the split in the royal line into two, the elder which was that of Donnchad the Mad. Whereas the Strawtherns under the headship of the young Mormaer Raghnall the Red or the ¡®Lion¡¯ as some had come to know him by this time, was a close personal friend and pupil of Mael Bethad the King.


    The few that stopped, on by had to push through the Dyrkwoods to reach it. Or they arrived by boat, from the northern tip of the inner sea, known as the Firth of the Thern, to the north-east of the village. The port was not a sizeable one, as all towns and cities and hamlets in Caledonia were always considerably smaller in size to those in Brittia or even on the Continent. Save for mayhaps Sgain, the largest of the cities of the Caleds, for which they often called it the ¡®jewel of the promontory¡¯ for the promontory facing the sea that, it stood upon.


    *****


    Merchants poured in from all throughout the south, in small numbers for the hamlet of Glasvhail were after-all hardly of any great importance. Being out of the way, with only a slim route around the Dyrkwoods which covered much of the south of this part of Rothien, Glasvhail was however popular amongst the wine-traders of Strawthern (where most of the finest grapes of Caledonia grew along with the best barley-wheat). Some of the cloth merchants arrived from as far as Noren?ia, the northernmost lands of Gallia that great continental state that loomed over all the west of North-Agenor, with the Noren?ians renowned for their fine wool.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Many of those who arrived did so slowly, over the course of weeks from the end of the eighth month of D¨¤mhar and well into the ninth one. Most of those who arrived from abroad were amongst those who had been in attendance during the previous year¡¯s festival. Several others had been present during the spring-festival of Turan, which was to follow the Fufluns autumn festival when the winter was at an end.


    The most noteworthy of the newcomers was none other than Wiglaf the sorcerer. A Cymran of some renown, he cut a fine figure with his waist-length beard, great pointed grey hat and blue robes that shone in the sunlight of the twin suns that were high in the heavens when he arrived. Grey-eyed, with a twinkle in his gaze, he reached Glasvhail riding his well-saddled horse, which trotted slowly under the weight of a great baggage drawn behind the small horse. By no means a war-horse, the steed appeared where its rider was cheerful, utterly disheartened to the brink of grouchy unhappiness.


    His arrival was a terrible shock to a great many of the locals, with the quiet old man seeking out the small home of Corin of Forlarin. A one-story building made of local ash-wood with a small amount of stone near the foundations, taken from a local quarry thirty leagues west of the village. The red-roof made from local red-bark had been carefully put together, and shone brilliantly in the light of the twin suns¡¯. With the roofed stone-building next to the house where most of Corin¡¯s great labour was undertaken, with it having its own chimney, large collection of wood and was where he could most commonly be found. The house exterior was also reddened in the descending light of the suns, with none more startled by the arrival of the Cymran than the Gallian himself.


    Long-since familiar with the sorcerer, who had been present at Murchadh¡¯s funeral years prior, where he had delivered a magnificent eulogy and death-song in the custom of the old way of the Cymru and the Caleds¡¯. Corin had been amongst the chief-mourners for the funeral. Ordinarily it would have included the cremation of the body of the man in question, but as he drowned at sea and there were but a few wood-planks of his boat discovered; they had instead filled his ash-container with little private possessions. Such as earrings, a favourite scarf, several clay-rings and a wooden lion he had once carved for his son. This last possession was placed inside the coffin, by the lad, who had said that he wished the lion to offer some comfort and memory of him wherever he was headed.


    Where the elders and those of middle-age had never much cared for the old sorcerer, using the term ¡®wizard¡¯ and ¡®heretic¡¯ in scorn of him. If ever you run into a magii there are few things that are as likely to outrage them so much, as the term ¡®wizard¡¯. A term which they have never much cared for, and which is a counterpart to that of ¡®witch¡¯ a people infamous for their many dealings with demons.


    ¡°Let us hope he keeps away, from Cormac,¡± Muttered Kenna to Indulf, in a foul mood from the moment she learnt of the sorcerer¡¯s arrival into the area. Though he had been unfailing in his kindness to her, Wiglaf had won hardly any gratitude from her. Her antipathy had its roots in his sudden departure shortly after Murchadh¡¯s funeral nigh on ten years previous to the current date.


    She hardly noticed the expression of frustration that painted itself unto the youthful face, of the eighteen summers-old son of her great friend Ida. He bit his lower lip to keep from speaking, too timid to speak out against her, even if in defence of his friend Cormac. It being no great secret that he loved her son as one might a younger brother, in many ways he preferred him to the company of a great many of his five brothers and three sisters.


    Where Indulf was soft-hearted by nature towards his young friend, was like her mistrustful of the sorcerer, his fianc¨¦ he discovered had considerable interest in the old man. Keen to meet him (as she had not yet done so) and even keener, to see magic-tricks which she was disappointed after she was introduced to him by Trygve that he preferred to demure from. Saying as he did so, ¡°Nay, magic- true magic is not for simple show, if you wish I could sing a good tune?¡±


    Inga accepted this latter offer, she did not stay over-long as she was soon called away by the Salmon, who had just run back to shore in the hopes of food. Having forgotten to carry some of the bread and cheese she had offered earlier along with him in his boat, it was at present up to his granddaughter to fetch some for him. With her future good-brother in turn staying to mock and banter with the old magii.


    Latterly he was to report to his brother, with considerable confusion when the day and the many labours that it had carried with it were at an end. ¡°It is an odd thing.¡±


    ¡°What is?¡± Indulf asked him, as they walked home, his brother having not worked out at sea as a fisherman¡¯s apprentice for the day, to aid their mother and Inga in various other tasks.


    ¡°The black bolt of cloth that had been dragged along by his horse was upon the table in the smithy.¡± Noted the younger of the two men, stroking his chin thoughtfully as though it had a beard already, this was a habit he had learnt since his earliest years from their father, who had a thick beard. ¡°The metal beneath it was onyx, in coloration when I pressed him to know from whence it came, Wiglaf grew angry with me. ¡®Never you mind the black rock and pray you never need know from whence it came or whithersoever it is headed,¡¯ he said to me, quite why is beyond me.¡±


    Indulf agreed that it was strange, especially given how typically free with knowledge the Cymran was on most occasions when he happened to visit Glasvhail. They both thought this strange, and had in their curiosity towards the black-stone in common. They knew only that it had been brought north with the foreigner, neither evinced much desire to further test the fury of the sorcerer. It was akin in their eyes, to angering one¡¯s grandfather as they were both familiar with him and disliked the notion of disappointing him a great deal more, than they expressed that evening.


    It was not Inga, or the two men who took the greatest interest in the return of Wiglaf to the locality of Glasvhail, but Conn the druid. The moment he heard of the man¡¯s return, he might well have been expected to squawk, and to leap to his feet to march out to Corin¡¯s home to demand the man¡¯s immediate departure. To the great displeasure of all who hated the sorcerer (and the vast amusement of a great many others), he in place of this possible action preferred to hide in his home beneath his bed-covers, whilst praying for the man¡¯s departure.


    Unaware of this initially, the sorcerer was to in the days just before the festival have to the relief of a great many, little to do with his host¡¯s neighbours. Corin and him, were to all but barricade themselves inside the man¡¯s home for the better part of the day. Quite why, was a mystery to most, with the two when they emerged going straight to the smithy whereupon Corin had his daughter who was about ready to depart, to aid Kenna fetch him Cormac. This likely was one of the principal reasons, for her fury towards the sorcerer, for she had long hated the smith for his bond with her son, not that either man paid her much mind in that regard.


    Daegan, did as bidden, racing from her father¡¯s home, keen as ever to see Cormac though she did not inform anyone quite why. A boastful lass by nature, one whom had been dubbed a number of years prior when she had become infamous throughout the locality for her braggart ways, as the ¡®She-Paladin¡¯. This title had been given to her by that eternal jester Trygve, who full of mockery for her had bestowed it upon her, without her realizing it, was done in the spirit of mischief. She fancied herself a ¡®She-Paladin¡¯, and the finest woman in the whole of the lairddom of Thernkirk, possibly even Fidach and Rothien, so great was her self-belief (or conceit).

 Chapter I.3: A Long Awaitd Festival

    In truth Kenna was by this time more preoccupied than any other, people in the whole of Glasvhail. For she was the only seamstress for a hundred leagues, of the village and the one tasked with almost three dozen dresses of varying sizes to sew. Doing so for a great variety of women and lasses, of the hamlet, as this was the busiest time of the year, for her, it was also the time when she made, the majority of her wealth.


    The ever-pessimistic Kenna was a handsome woman, usually easily approached. Save, during this time of the year, or when her eternally distracted son, fled his tasks to go stare at the boats, or the fish they brought in. He also had a tendency to sneak away when he forgot to return from his errands, to visit with the ¡®Forlarin¡¯ household as all the residents of Rothien tended to call, the home and kinsmen of Corin. Forlarin as he was known to some was a strange man, by the standards of the small farm-laden road-Thorpe, as he was foreign-born after all, one whom precious little, was known about.


    Said to be born, from a family of minor barons, in the direct service of the High-King of Gallia, the fifth son, some supposed. Quite why, they decided upon the fifth son, and not the second or third, or even first remained something of a joke, amongst all those who lived near his home. With none laughing louder, than the man himself, save perhaps the Tigruns of the locality, for the cat-men and women often regarded him with a certain amusement. All that the locals knew was that he was from the land of Forlarin, where the current lord was the son of a mercenary-captain who had done well, in the service of Agustin the Great. The mighty Duke of Norencia and Gallusia, who had defied more than one king, and paved the way for Juste and Guillaume, his grandsons to claim the crown.  Corin was the son of the Prince of the Crown¡¯s own tutor, was another rumour, yet all who knew the blacksmith, knew he loathed violence. Instead, he had favoured the art of languages, so that all that the locals knew, he had agreed to what was a tantamount to exile, in order to serve as a translator for a representative to Mael-Martin II¡¯s court, from Gallia.


    Regardless of his past, the brown-haired man then fell in love with the original blacksmith¡¯s daughter, Olith and over quarter-score years, became accustomed to village life. The Gallian of course, learnt her family¡¯s trade, and inherited her father¡¯s business and home, upon the man¡¯s death. So skilled had he become, by the time of this tale, he oft left for Sgain, or Inverd¨´nis to sell his spare-wares, which were in high demand in those parts of the kingdom.


    Olith for her part, despite being dead since fifteen years ago, continued to linger on in the spirits of those who had once known her. None sought to honour her memory more than those who had seen her grow into the woman who wed Corin, than Kenna. It was the anniversary of the red-haired woman¡¯s passing three weeks ago could only ponder her present troubles in the form of Cormac.


    What am I going to do with that lad? He has all the wits of an ass, Kenna frequently thought to herself, in frustration her fingers at work upon the lady Malvina¡¯s dress which was in the midst of being put together upon her loom.


    The lady Malvina was the wife of the local laird Badr¨¢ch, and there was a difference in rank between them, they were friendly. Given the lady¡¯s bumbling nature, she was something of a figure of mockery, throughout Rothien. Some such as Kenna, found her more exasperating or pitiful, than humorous. The clumsy kindness on the part of the lady had long since endeared her to the seamstress, who found the woman¡¯s incompetent husband, far less endearing. Broken from her thoughts, whilst she was in the midst of cursing her son to the depths of the icy-realm of the Dark Queen, Kenna looked up just as the smith¡¯s daughter burst into the shop. This was always her way, as she could not help but always burst in place of slipping inside.


    ¡°I am terribly sorry, auntie, it was my idea for Cormac to help us, with this last project before Wiglaf arrives.¡± Daegan said, face turning scarlet as she averted her eyes shyly.


    She is lying; she always reddens and averts her gaze, whenever she lies. Kenna guessed irritably, yet with a small amount of fondness, she truly did love the lass in spite of her dislike for Corin. It had to have something to do, with how the lass was the spitting image, of her mother Olith, who had been her greatest girlhood friend. The two had been all but sisters, with Kenna having sworn as Olith lay dying, to always care for Daegan.


    ¡°Oh aright, I know you Dae, you could never undercut anyone, so do not try to trick me, into believing that you convinced Cormac to leave, his duties half-finished.¡± The lad¡¯s mother said to the sheepish young lass, who gave her a wide-eyed stare. One of pure surprise and embarrassment at how, easily she had been seen through her.


    Kenna did not give the matter much more thought, too distracted by the work that was all-important to her. Life was a matter to be grappled with, and toil the only answer to all of its troubles and sorrows, with the greatest horror in the world to her mind was indolence. So that her son was something of a monster to her mind, one whom she had to exorcise of his worst habits.


    Arriving hours after the apprentices had departed for their own homes, which left Cormac to suffer the wroth of his mother. This he did, his hair and cloths soaked entirely through much to the disgust of his mother, who was to scream herself hoarse that day.


    ¡°Quite what I did, to deserve a son as unfilial, indolent and worthless as you, is a mystery!¡± She had at last yelled in the end, shortly after she had put an end to her complaints and the throwing of several nearby light possessions of theirs.


    Her son did not answer any of her cries, only shrugged and evaded what clay-plates, mugs and tools he could, before he hunkered down to sleep in the shop. As a rule, he slept there whereas she slept in the kitchen of their small home, to-night he hung his head and appeared as sullen towards her, as she was in return.


    The next day, with the scent of pine and oak-wood along with that of the sea, was everywhere, in that part of the land. Scents that always served to remind Kenna, of her late husband, Murchadh; a man whom she had adored and who unlike her, was friendly with all around him. As she awoke, she asked of herself what she was to do with her son, who resisted her best efforts, to be included in the slightest work.


    A question that haunted more than one soul the next day, from the druid Conn who faced what he felt to be certain, to be a kind of doom when the time came to declare his daughter and the lad wedded, an act he already dreaded. Where they awoke in a cold sweat, full of mortal terror of a possible or real connection to Murchadh¡¯s son, others as in the case of Daegan, Corin and Helga awoke of a different mind in regards, to the youth.


    The festival of the Paragon Muireall, a Paragon who was canonised by the Temple for her great service and martyrdom centuries prior, in the name of Fufluns the lord of fertility, was but a day away. All had been put in place by this time, with the skies clear of any possible rain and sleet for the moment. Something that Caledonia lived under the constant expectation of in marked contrast to their southron neighbours.


    Busy at work still in the smithy, Wiglaf was to complain at some length about the process, with many inquisitive souls desirous to peek inside or listen in, upon him and his host as they worked. The difficulty lay in just how perceptive the two of them were, with neither man the sort to miss the slightest snap of a twig with their ears or the sound of anyone¡¯s breath upon the door so intently did they guard the secret of that which they toiled upon. The only ones invited inside, into the know being Daegan and Cormac.


    One might think they would speak of what it was the sorcerer and the smith were hard at work upon, ere long they concluded their weeks-long toil, come the dawn of the festival-day. Hard at work upon the bellows, Cormac who had but rarely been seen outside of the smithy, much to his mother¡¯s displeasure and the consternation of the likes of Helga and her younger sister Eillidh.


    ¡°Go, lad,¡± Said Corin to the son of his greatest friend, ¡°I have no further work for you, and require no further aid with the bellows.¡±


    Heeding his words, the son of Murchadh the fisherman departed forthwith, for Ciaran¡¯s oak whereupon he fell into a deep-sleep as he was oft prone to. This was sure to garner more of his mother¡¯s wrath yet he thought not of this. All who stepped on past him, shook their heads in response, in disgust, with few of their children venturing over to speak to him distracted as they were with their games.


    Full of fury, switch in hand Kenna departed from her home in search of her son, she had herself completed her duties to her many customers desired to put her son to work regardless of this fact. She searched through all of Glasvhail only to realize that her son must have gone to visit with Corin.


    Every inch of Kenna trembled with fury, such that when she arrived she bewildered both men, and the smith-daughter who were seated at his ash-wood brown table. The men were in the midst of drinking wine brought north by the Cymran. For her part, the lass with the flame-tresses stared halting in the act of refilling the goblet of the sorcerer.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Where is he? Where is my son?¡± Asked the widow of Murchadh to the wonder of those seated, who gaped at her in confusion at her words.


    ¡°We do not know,¡± Answered Corin earnest as always she perceived his words to be spoken in jest, quite why she did so was to remain a mystery for them for some time.


    ¡°Do not jest, please,¡± She grunted under her breath, just before, she took his daughter by the arm to start to guide her away. ¡°If I shan¡¯t find him, then I shall tear thy daughter from you to prepare her for the festival and see to her fitting for a new dress? Heaven knows, how swiftly they grow.¡±


    Where Kenna might well have objected, had it been her child, the men simply shrugged for they saw no reason to answer any further. It was true that Daegan had grown taller as of late, and was in dire need of a new dress. Agreeing to leave with her, with a quick swig of wine, and a bright smile eager to be gifted a new dress.


    Disappointed as she was by Corin¡¯s lack of interest in the matter, a sentiment worsened by the knowledge that her son was somewhere else (heaven only knew where). Kenna departed with a flounce, the young lass scowled to herself before she hurried to inform her, ¡°I shall go find Cormac for you if you so wish auntie.¡±


    In truth, she wished to prevaricate in regards to her visit, due entirely to the rage that still seemed to colour every millimetre of the seamstress¡¯s being.


    ¡°Very well, but mayhap it might be better if Cormac were to join the other men for the remainder of the festival,¡± Kenna concluded with a reluctant sigh, letting slip forth from her much of the anger that still simmered below the surface. After-all, she told herself, she did have a dress to complete for the lass by her side.


    It was not her intent to make the younger woman uncomfortable; however she could not resist a certain scorn for her son. Why by all the gods, could she not have had a daughter? One akin to Daegan in nature, who had drive, confidence and whom was a good conversationalist?


    Their differences stemmed from the fact that he had no great dreams, or desires to do much more than idle away, his time. Resolute by nature, Kenna had far greater dreams than her son, Daegan; or even her own father, who had thrived on the battlefield if nowhere else. Nor did she intend to beg she had as a child before she had been all but sold, to the local weaver. He had treated Kenna well, after she had attempted to rob him, and later left her his shop, upon his death just before her marriage to Murchadh. The shop was well-off enough, but she intended to still sell it to young Indulf, her former teacher¡¯s nephew, who was but three years older than her son.


    In a contemplative mood, she thought at some length about her hopes to move her shop, from Glasvhail to Sgain where she hoped to gain in wealth enough to possibly move along in rank. There were tales of artisans if skilled enough, succeeding in gaining the attention of the High-King and being taken with him, to his private keep of Dunsfathaigh, or Inverd¨´nis.


    Inside her home, they found the looms, just as she had left them with Indulf, who was still bent over his loom, a warm yet shy smile gracing his handsome face when he saw them. A kindly if easily daunted youth, Indulf was in a unique position as his brothers were certain to inherit a large herd of sheep, enough wealth saved up over the years, to set all at ease for a number of years. With little left over for the three youngest sons, little choice open to him other than to pursue his own trade, and fortune outside of his kin-group. As a third-son he was remarkably unfortunate, in spite of the great affection his family held for him.


    Dismissing him, Kenna turned her attention in its entirety to the lass with her, beckoning her to the kitchen after she had locked the doors. Her earlier anger towards her son forgotten, she saw to fetching a dress she had hidden some time ago, for this very day.


    Her hope was to do a kindness for she whom she hoped to take in as her good-daughter, since she was of a mind that the red-haired lass deserved far better a man than her slothful son.


    The vivid green dress she had secretly woven flew about, with her duo of assistants awe-struck by the beauty of the dress. It was long, with a flowery pattern embroidered into the hem of the skirt and sleeves, with many an ¨¦rian symbols interwoven where mentioned, with fine, gold embroidery. The symbols were all identical with Daegan recognising them at once, for being the ¡®Bowen¡¯s Knot¡¯, an ancient symbol that was sacred to the goddess Turan. The goddess of love herself, is said to have given it to the women of ¨¦riu millennia ago, as part of the sacred pact between herself and the daughters of Lyr. Turan being one of the three goddesses said to have formed the first pact of gods and men, in regards to both the Emerald and Lairdly-Isle. The other two being; Meret the goddess of music, whom some believed to have sung alongside Scota and Turan the isles into being.


    Such was the force of the passion for which the Caleds, ¨¦rians and Cymrans felt for the trio of goddesses that they built more temples to them, than all the other gods. They were also noteworthy for having to their names, three festivals a year apiece, where the rest of the gods had but one, or two in the case of Orcus (white god of the dead and renewal) and Ziu, the red god of war.


    The dress as Daegan soon discovered was a silken thing of the highest quality she had ever felt or seen in all her life. It matched her eyes perfectly, being every bit as green as the rolling fields that stretched west and northwards with the hem both at the top, bottom and along the sleeves as said; filled with golden patterns. What was more was the girdle that was used to synch together the waist, this was tied together in the most recent Continental style, notably in the kingdom of Gallia, and was a golden and emerald thing also trimmed with ¡®Bowen¡¯s Knot¡¯. So that the knot itself was what kept the dress in place, and had been woven around the solar-haired maiden.


    The mirror that lay to the right-hand side of the room was oft-used for those ladies who came to wear for themselves the work of Kenna, and wished to see themselves dressed in it. In this way they oft paid homage to the work of her nimble fingers in this way, not all knew this. Daegan, was cut from altogether different clothe and knew well, what it was that she did the moment she turned to face her reflection, when she donned the dress which as she was shocked to learn was made of silk.


    It truly was a magnificent dress, the likes of which made her appear all the more beautiful than even she had imagined in her vainest dreams. Awed by the lady who gazed back upon her, from deep within her reflection that which had a dress greener and more majestic, than her eyes and which complimented her red-mane so magnificently that all men were sure to ask themselves if this was not Turan made flesh.


    ¡°Do not simply stand there lass, do try it on!¡± Kenna urged her with such excitement that Daegan felt suddenly timid. Not at all a sentiment she was accustomed to, she stumbled for words at that moment.


    ¡°A-aye but-¡± She stammered weakly, overwhelmed by the beauty of the gold-trimmed dress which felt just as it appeared, richer than any other thing she had ever seen before.


    Kenna was visibly pleased with the result she saw, only to hem and haw over this detail or that, such as the stance of her charge. ¡°Do raise your chin lass, oh and do also raise your hand- ah yes, I should mayhaps lend you one of the few rings I have, it was a memento of Murchadh and would go nicely with your dress and hair!¡±


    ¡°You do not have to,¡± Daegan demurred moved and humbled by the richness of her dress and unsure if she should continue, to take advantage of her friend¡¯s generosity.


    ¡°Nonsense, nonsense what am I to do with it? It is not as though I wear it most days,¡± Kenna insisted before she hurried up the stairs to fetch the possession of which she spoke so highly of.


    It was a prized possession as the lass well knew, being a gift from Murchadh and was a bronze ring of mediocre make with a small sliver of a ruby embedded into it. Quite how the fisherman had succeeded in the buying of it was a mystery, with Daegan suspicious that he had borrowed some of the expenses necessary from her own father though she said nothing of this. Still, it was forced upon her left middle-finger (for her others save her thumb were too slender for it), and she was also to have the pleasure of seeing her hair done up in an intricate braid. This was done in the same manner that many of the local women oft did their own hair, during festivals and special occasions. This form of braid being favoured amongst the ladies of the High-King¡¯s court it was said, with the braid being a pair of tails of hair that were draped over either side of the woman¡¯s shoulders. In Daegan¡¯s case her hair came down to almost her stomach, with both tails being braided multiple times in delicate yellow cloth.


    This practice pleased her and was entirely new to her, with Kenna arranging all very carefully for her so very gently that one might well have mistaken her for a nobleman¡¯s daughter. A rank that had never truly attracted her, for being a lady might well have meant that she was out of reach from Cormac something that was intolerable to her mind. After-all they entered the world within the same month, and had nigh-well grown to adulthood together with the young woman determined that they would live in it and depart from it together one day. A part of her hoped he might outlive her, if only so that she would never be made to endure his absence.


    ¡°I look like a proper lady!¡± She breathed sincerely moved, by the kindness of the seamstress she felt certain then, was to one day be her good-mother.


    Kenna beamed in response, as pleased by her joy as she was by her own appearance. The woman¡¯s proud mien the sort she well-imagined her own mother might have worn, had she lived to see her standing there in silk, her hairs braided in the manner of a noblewoman.


    They swiftly undid all the work if only to keep it a secret, after-all Kenna had no great desire to flaunt the silk dress she had bought the cloth for, nigh on two years prior from a group of travelling Brittian merchants. Daegan wished to go find Cormac, to ensure that he did not forget about the festival, as he had two years previous.


    Pleased by her promise to return, and to return with her son, Kenna turned away from her to concentrate her attention upon the final touches for the dress. The dress was a tad long, and the last thing she needed was for the excitable daughter of Olith to do as her mother had done dozens of times; trip over herself. It had been the source of enough tears, for the poor lass so that her friend was determined to spare the daughter from such a humiliating fate.


    In the end, Daegan found no trace of her friend, not near the quay though she did find Indulf¡¯s younger brother. From there she had inspected Ciaran¡¯s oak, only to find no trace of her friend, much to her disappointment. She might well have complained at some length; however she was reminded of the descent of the suns, by Trygve rather abrasively.


    Many a grumbles and complaints were torn from her lips, on the route back to Kenna¡¯s home, who at her return, set to work at once. Determined to ensure that she appear as comely as possible, Kenna was to once her work completed push her out the door, with a frenzied, ¡°Hurry! Hurry, we must appear before some of the men arrive from the swimming-contest!¡±