Harrond
"Asuryan bestow upon me your wisdom..."
As his fellow Caledorian sat across his desk, the Dragon Prince took his time massaging his forehead as he ruminated on the troubling news dropped at him from on high. As if establishing a colony wasn't deemed hard enough by Fate, now he's got a mystic disaster looming down on him from an undetermined date.
Meanwhile the bearer of bad news sat on that chair sipping her tea as if there wasn't anything pressing going on.
"An awakening entity from the sea, which is probably the Drowned God these Ironborn worship knowing my luck." He muttered the last part to himself, but he doubts the princess failed to hear it. "Amassing an army of the dead with the intention of throwing us out, and most likely feast on our souls while doing so."
"It is the will of Lileath that we embark on this sacred mission." She said before taking another sip from her cup.
Oh yes, I can't forget about that too. It is a relief though, to know that the Cadai have not abandoned them in another world and continued to watch over them. It'll certainly go a long way in appeasing the priesthood and make it easier for him to make them follow along his plans. He'd been getting reports from his subordinates of a few beginning to get... depressed, from the failed attempts at communing with the gods. In fact...
His focused stare towards Neruna seemed to have unnerved her by the way she fidgeted with her cup. "What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?" She questioned with a suspicious gaze.
Harrond... smiled in response. "My lady, you have been blessed by a vision from Lileath."
"...Yes?"
"I believe the priestesses of the Maiden will be delighted to converse with you." He said to her, taking out a letter from a neat stack of them and presenting it to her. "They are in need of something to lighten their hearts after a recent failure to commune with the goddess, and for the sacred mission given to us to be recorded properly by Her anointed."
He felt a bit of satisfaction in the way her face scrunched up in minor annoyance. But she cannot deny this task, he knows this. Delay it, certainly, it can be done on the morrow instead of now at the time near the moon is highest. But that he told her to do this now means she'll be up for longer past the time she usually goes to sleep, obligated as she is to do this task. Serves her right for doing this to him right before he retired for the night. She can suffer alongside him as he'll have to stay up longer as well now, to meet with Falandris regarding this new threat.
Aslan
"Fishing? No plant food growing?" Asked a bewildered Aslan as he spoke with the maester and the former lady of the castle in the library. "No farms?"
The Chracian lord also gestured with some vague hand movements as he spoke in their tongue, his armor clinking slightly with every motion. It is a useful way to help emphasize his words and make them easier to understand as he's still mastering the language. The lady Alannys and maester Merwyn were seated in front of him, the lady on a chair next to a window and a small table with a book she was previously reading laying on it. The maester meanwhile was sitting behind his desk.
"Making up a supermajority of the common Ironborn's daily meal indeed, my lord." The maester bowed his head from across his desk, chains rattling with the movement. "It is deeply rooted in the Ironborn people's culture to eschew sowing crops in favor of fishing and raiding foodstuff from the main continent."
"What little farming is done in the islands is done by thralls." The lady continued when the maester paused, smoothing down the front of her dress. "And all their produce are taken directly to the castle. But then, there are some houses that completely do away with farming, and make up for it with more frequent raids."
"It doesn't help that most of the land in the islands are unfit for growing crops, being mostly made of rock and gravel. It was postulated by maesters past and present that it was this inability to sustain themselves with farming that drove the early peoples of these islands to raiding for survival." The maester elaborated on from the lady's answer with some facts. Aslan, in the meantime, took in their answers and thought on it some more.
In fact, about the Ironborn, the Chracian lord was reminded of the more savage peoples that he encountered in his time at Albion. Those tribes that turned their backs, or lost faith even, on their ancient duty to defend the misty isles and the works of the Old Ones against the predations of Chaos. It would do him well to remember the methods of war most successfully used against their ilk. He'll be leading his regiment into a land infested by them in the near future.
Well, one obvious thing every good commander would remember about sea raiders is that they aren't as good at fighting in a prolonged siege against decent fortifications. Or make use of horses most of the time so any such force that leaves their ships to travel overland will be slower than most armies, necessitating sticking close to rivers...
Aslan shook those thoughts away for now, returning to speaking with the lady and the maester. "So, if we make the land good for growing again, how against will the small folk be to growing more crops?"
His question got bewildered looks in response instead of words. The maester opened his mouth, finger raised before he abruptly shut it and took on a pose of contemplation. Lady Alannys was blinking in surprise, before she bowed her head slightly towards him.
"I apologize, my lord, but I cannot offer a good answer to your question." She apologetically spoke. "I am but a lady, meant not to worry about the ruling over the smallfolk, but to be a good and leal wife to my husband and house."
"It's fine, it is good my lady." He gently smiled as he waved away any imagined slights to him. She got a bit red in her face and looked away, making the lord laugh internally, and he turned towards the maester. "Maester Merwyn...?"
The maester was still deep in thought, eyes closed and muttering to himself now as he rubbed his beard. Well, far be it for him to disrupt a scholar in one of their thinking fugues! He figured he'll be like the loremasters when disrupted, supremely irritated and less inclined to accommodate him.
"Perhaps you know a person more knowing of this farm thing?" He asked the Alannys, and after a moment she answered this one more confidently.
It was on the way to the port town that Aslan was intercepted by his sister, who jumped down onto his horse from atop the gatehouse and was now riding side-saddle behind him. She's done this often in enough that his equine companion is, thankfully, more than used to her sudden appearance.
"What mundane fancy has taken over your mind now, brother?" She inquired, to which he turned around to smile at her.
"How to convince these humans to take on farming!" He got a deadpan look from her in response.
"And you, a lord of Chrace, are doing this because...?"
"Well, seeing as our esteemed Dragon Prince is planning to have us rule over them we can't have a population starve on us because they think farming is stupid and for slaves only." Aslan spat the word 'slave,' one of the many evils he and many other elves despise. Their ancestors had known the pain of chains binding them to daemons in the distant past, it is only right to hate slavery. "So, I am endeavoring to lighten the burden on his princely shoulder, earning his favor and, at the same time, the Loremasters' as well when I relay my findings to them."
Today appears to be his favored day, for he has left a pleasantly surprised expression on his sister's face. It is a rare sight to see, especially if it were caused by him. Between the two of them, she had always been the brighter, more eloquent young Asur.
A pleasant quiet descended between the two the whole sedate ride to the town. The weather was fine today, a good amount of clouds providing plenty of shelter from the sun often and a cool breeze blew in from the east carrying with them the smell of pine and a few flowery scents from the sparse amounts growing on the field. It didn't take long for the pair to reach the outskirts of the town, where the elves have begun to construct a wooden wall.
It was at the partially completed gatehouse that the siblings briefly stopped, stating their identities before being let through quickly. On the other side was the camp were the elven troops were staying at, the temporary abodes of the freed slaves right next to them. It was towards the latter did Aslan nudge his steed towards, his horse understanding immediately and moving. He plans to ask any former slaves here who were Ironborn to start, being rescued should endear him more to the human. Then he'll move on towards the more cooperative ones in the town itself.
The Shadow Lord
This whole endeavor was a waste of his skills. He could have assigned one of his better subordinates to do this in his stead.
"Why haven't you heard from them yet, maester? It's been weeks!"
"My deepest apologies milord. I have sent most of my reserve ravens for Downdelving, so I am very sure that eventually we will receive news..."
It was so simple to evade their sloppy patrols, their guards carrying torches that ruined their sight beneath the moon. The servants here are more focused on averting their eyes from anyone wearing clothes denoting their higher status, so he didn't have to cast much to hide himself from them, his cloak fulfilled that purpose well enough in this place. And if he wasn't traversing his way through the servant corridors then he was climbing up the exterior of the castle, until he reached the tower where the ravens flew in and out of.
The fools haven't yet thought to wonder if their messenger birds were shot down. It was admittedly an inspired idea to make use of ravens to carry messages, smarter than most are the chosen birds of Khaine. For a primitive civilization that is. There are several reasons why his people don't use a similar method, a lot of it being they have more efficient and faster ways.
"...Bah, no matter. Garold can be his usual moody brute self, there be more serious matters from the continent. Have my sons sent back their reports?"
"Yes milord. Not much change, besides a few more Riverlords starting to chafe against the chains of the Hoares. Their messages are over here..."
It is fortunate that these Ironborn are sending most of their ships to the mainland, where it appears most of their fortunes are being made, so they have yet to truly figure out what happened up north. Judging by the few more irritated humans in the port wondering about late shipments from Downdelving though, he gives it one more week before it becomes impossible to hide their presence.
Besides the mines behind the castle where a majority of their slaves are destined to live and die in the moment they're brought in from the ships. The remaining few are delegated to farming or become pleasure slaves. The thought of this injustice had his gloved hand silently clench on his side. He cannot do anything about this right now, so for the moment he continues to listen to the lord and his maester discuss news from the mainland, from his perch sitting atop a bookshelf, at a corner where the shadows congregate.
He had already tasked his subordinates to ascertain the weaknesses of this castle, plenty of which he had found by himself. The most important of which were the secret passages from where infiltration forces can slip inside from, bypassing the ramp leading up the mountainside entirely. There, elite warriors can be sent through to run rampant throughout the keep, distracting most of the defenders and giving the rest of the army a better chance of going up the ramp with lesser casualties.
Hmmm. Assassinating human leaders will sow chaos, and further decrease their ability to fight back. The Shadow Lord mused to himself. He tires of listening to the pair talk about the number of slaves being brought in from the mainland, so with nary a sound he smoothly crept across the top of the shelf. He then brought himself down onto the floor, and swung himself out and to the side of the nearest window and onto a ledge jutting out from the stone.
He looked up at the moon, noting its position in the heavenly canvas of twinkling stars that was the night sky. He still has time before he has to leave this castle. Perhaps, he should go to the lord's office and see if there's anything of interest inside? Yes, that sounded like a fine plan. Now if he remembers it right, the lord's office is in the taller tower on the opposite side of the inner courtyard which separates this raven tower from it.
The Shadow Lord briefly looked down from his perch at the castle, thinking of the time that will be wasted stealthing his way to the opposite side of the square-shaped castle.
"I'll not waste my time." His whispered statement would be barely audible for a human if they were standing in the same room. Focusing the plentiful shadows through the windows of the main tower, he tapped into that innate ability of many of those born in the lands of Nagarythe.
A cloud conveniently moved in and obscured the moon for a time, blocking out its meager light. Then, he felt the cold tendrils of his shadow creep upon his form, increasing in speed until a blanket of darkness obscured his vision.
He opened his eyes to see a pathway of gray stone, the only patch of color where everywhere else is absolute blackness. He had entered the Shadow Realm.
He kept his focus on his affinity to the shadows, the image of his desired destination clear on his mind as he started down the path. At the ninth step he stopped, feeling a sense of rightness at this particular spot. So with an outwards breath he slowly slipped his grasp on the shadows, closing his eyes as he felt the ever-cold tendrils of shadow release their hold of his body until the freezing temperatures of the Shadow Realm was replaced by the more temperate coolness of the human castle.
Opening his eyes, he finds himself in the shadow of a statue, hidden behind it. He looked both sides of the hallway, and seeing no one present he slipped out from behind the statue and walked off to find the lord's office. He has a certain magical horn to steal, to avoid a repeat of the previous battle against the Ironborn.
A.N. - Sorry about my long absence. It took a while for another chapter to write itself...
What do you all think of another Asue colony fleet getting tossed into Westeros? Because one of the issues I find myself thinking of often is how outnumbered the high elves are here. 30,000 is not enough to conquer part of the Iron Islands.
Next chapter though, there will be more action.