|
|
* * *
King Sven Forkbeard was the most powerful man in Thule. He had forged a kingdom from nothing. He started with only an axe to his name, but rose to command first a ship and then a fleet of ships. He steadily conquered the islands at the end of the world one by one, steading by steading. Only a few holdouts like Jarl Ingemar remained and they constantly feared being absorbed into the new Kingdom. Yet even this success had not satisfied his insatiable hunger for conquest. It was no secret that he was now casting a covetous eye towards the fabulously rich, but immensely dangerous Tarantine Empire to the south. It was just this scheme he was pondering when two of those stubborn holdouts were admitted into his presence. “Ingemar!” said the king, “I see you have brought your son. Have you come to your senses at last and come to swear to me?“ “No.”, the Jarl responded, “Have you come to your senses and abandoned this insane scheme to attack Tarantium?” “Not a chance! They’re distracted fighting on the other end of their empire and my spies tell me the orcs to their east are stirring again. No, compared to their other troubles we’ll be a minor irritant. A very rich irritant!” He laughed at his own joke. “So,” he continued, “if you haven’t come to swear to me then what have you come for? I hope you don’t expect me to get rid of those giants without your swearing to me because I won’t do it.” * * *
Uwe slipped furtively through the back alleys of Roskildé. He was excited, nervous and in a hurry. He needed to get to the tavern in a hurry. It had no name and little lighting and served the lowest elements of society, but even a thrall such as himself was welcome there. He needed to place a small mark in the proper place without being noticed and that was easiest before the place began to fill up in the late afternoon. With that accomplished, he would soon receive a visit from the mysterious man with the rose shaped pendant. Perhaps this would be the tidbit of information juicy enough for the man to arrange for his family to have enough money to buy him out of thralldom and take him back home where he belonged. Later that evening, the man appeared from the shadows as Uwe looked for a barrel of wine in an otherwise deserted warehouse. A brief conversation took place and then the man was gone as suddenly as he appeared. Was it enough? Uwe would know soon enough. * * *
Having returned to the small room he was allotted as a minor scribe for an Achaean merchant doing business in Roskildé, Publius Frontius began making notes for his report to his superiors in the Ministry of Intelligence back in Tarantium. A most interesting – and, if true, welcome – development. Some minor jarl had convinced Sven to leave his petty holdings alone in exchange for information about an island chain some distance to the southwest that nobody knew anything about. According to his spy, the King was even considering sending an expedition based on the report and might even abandon plans for attacking Tarantium if this new land turned out to be as rich – and subject to conquest – as the jarl had suggested. That would save the empire from an unneeded distraction while its legions brought Orus’s word to the heathens of the Gilded League. Now, he just needed to get his report ready in time for his meeting with the courier…
Last Updated:
Sunday, 23-May-2004 12:39:21 CDT
|
