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Thread: Historia Quod Britonum

  1. #121

    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    Thanks! I thought that putting the little stories in between would be an interesting way to remind the reader that this world isn't static, and every one of the soldiers is an actual person with their own story.

    I hope everyone enjoyed the holidays! I intend to post again to tomorrow, and we may see a return to some familiar faces.

    Quorum Praeteritum XXXIX
    Late Summer, 1108 AD



    “A few have escaped into the countryside, but the rest are dead."


    “Good, then the deed is done. I suppose a few should live to tell others the cost of rebellion.”


    Sitting on his horse in observation of the razed town of Anadrov, Prince Danilo Rurikovich looked to Sergey, ever at his side and ever loyal. The warrior was now his most trusted advisor and head of his Druzhina. Most would not recognize Danilo as the new man he had become. War could do that to a man, and it had been a brutal war he had fought only a month before, and lost in a bloodbath.


    Danilo looked up as a heavily armored man rode up to him, with two other horsemen at his side. "Your Illustrious Highness," the man began, always one for formalities, "May I ask your intentions for our next action?"


    "I intend to return to Fyvgorod, Boyar Kostya." answered Danilo, amused by the Boyar's way of speech.


    "And do you intend to bring my army with you on the whole of your journey?" Kostya inquired.


    "No, only as far as your own city. Though I would ask for a small entourage of men to accompany me afterwards."


    "As you wish, Your Illustrious Highness." Kostya said, giving a brief bow of his head before turning his horse and continuing through the remains of Anadrov.


    The Prince had occasionally felt inclined to make a verbal jab at Kostya, who often made less than loyal statements hidden behind the guise of formality and respect, but he knew better. It was with Kostya's army that Danilo had taken his revenge on the Karelians. The battle had been long and brutal, but though the Karelians were many in number, most lacked the proper training and equipment of a Rusian warrior.


    Now that they were alone again Danilo turned to Sergey, "Was I right?"


    "Pardon?" Sergey asked. He knew what Danilo asked, but he wanted to ensure that the sentence was explained before he answered it.


    "Was I right to return, and burn the town as I did? The Karelians deserved it, but did the others who lived here, whom had simply accepted the new rule, but not served it?"


    "My Lord, true Christians would have rebelled against the pagans and not accepted their rule, would they not?"


    "I believe they would, Sergey." Danilo said, looking back out to the destroyed city. The situation sat somewhat uneasy with him, but he dared not reveal it, though Sergey looked at him as though he felt the same although neither would speak it.


    The Battle of Anadrov had finally come to an end, but soon Danilo would see himself fight another, as his betrothed bride, Aethelswyth Leofricing (Leofricson, pronounced Leo-fre-sing), was nearing the all-important age of 16. His path would lead him soon to the shores of Britain to face the Scottish King, and fight for his bride.

  2. #122
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    I'm intrigued by Danilo's disquiet about the burning of the town. I like the line about him being about to 'face the Scottish King, and fight for his bride' - I wonder what will happen to Danilo in Britain.

  3. #123

    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    Thanks Alwyn! Now, here's something you've probably been waiting for...
    Bellum Aeternus I
    Late Spring, 302 BC


    "Hello."


    The Flickering Man wasted no time. He teleported himself behind the woman and turned to attack her, but by that time she had already teleported herself, and was holding a knife to his back. She drove it into his spine, and then teleported in front of him.


    "Do you know how to fix that?" she asked, her previously playful tone now a serious one.


    The Flickering Man grunted in confirmation. She moved behind him to observe, taking the blade out and then watching as his flesh mended itself. The cycle repeated itself twice more, with him attempting to attack her and then the woman quickly overpowering him, and by the time he had healed his third wound, a slash across his throat, he decided to stop.


    "Now, we done with that business? I'm not here to kill you, though I have considered it. You seem to be a bit prideful." she jabbed, her playful mood returning.


    "Yes, we're finished. Now, who are you?"


    "Straight to business, huh? Alright, I know when my humor isn't appreciated. The name's Lady Carline, and you?"


    The Flickering Man squinted at the woman, considering if he should tell her the truth. "Thomas Parsons. Now, where do you come from?" he answered, deciding that there are no harm in surrendering his name, as she likely already knew it.


    "Somewhere different from where you come from, obviously. Now, basic question; do you know the reasons behind your powers?"


    Raising his eyebrow, Thomas thought that the answer to such a question was obvious. "I gained them when I time travelled."


    "Yes, but do you know why?"


    Never having considered the question, the Flickering Man stuttered. Knowing that he didn't know the answer, Carline interrupted him before he could speak. "I suppose I have a lot to show you then. Let's begin."


    She stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder, and in an instant the two teleported, appearing in the middle of an sprawling ancient city. Dozens of guards turned to face them with their weapons raised, but fell to their knees upon seeing Carline.


    "Welcome to Delphi."

  4. #124
    Caillagh de Bodemloze's Avatar to rede I me delyte
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    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    Well, that's very intriguing, Rabbit. I shall look forward both to more of Danilo's story, and the Flickering Man's.






  5. #125
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    This is intriguing, indeed! I wonder what Lady Carline will show the Flickering Man.

    [Edit to add] The Writers' Study Yearly Awards 2016 are now open for nominations. Everyone is invited to submit nominations here.
    Last edited by Alwyn; January 15, 2017 at 02:52 AM.

  6. #126

    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    Thanks guys! A lot will be explained soon in the Bellum Aeternus Storyline, some of which you might have to read over once or twice.

    Also, I want to thank the people who nominated me in the Writers' Study Yearly Awards! There are some really good nominations, and I encourage everyone to make their nominations while you still can, and to vote when the polls open up!


    Quorum Praeteritum XL
    Late Summer, 1108 AD

    "I thought I told you to stand here!"

    Brocwulf, looked at his Father, Beorhtgar of Scheltun (Skelton), in shame. The young warrior held a decorated blade out to display it to his Father as if to justify his actions, and though Beorhtgar was impressed by the find, the sword being worth more than his own suit of chain mail, it still did not change his mind on the matter. However, he did not have much time for his son, as he was trying to rally his troops.

    The Battle of Two Kings was in its later stages, but Beorhtgar wasn't too sure of that, believing that the Scottas (Scots) had fled the battle far too quickly. Their numbers had also been less than what the scouts had predicted, though Beorhtgar wasn't exactly a part of the King's war council, as he was only a thegn. Once upon a time, that would have been a much honored role, but in the days of a united Ænglalond (England), one thegn was only a piece of fabric on a long and colorful tapestry of nobility.

    "But Father, the battle is over!" Brocwulf bemoaned. Several of the soldiers around him chuckled; some at his young foolishness, and others at his Father's over cautiousness.

    "No, it's not. Now do as I have commanded of you, lest it be your intent to die here."

    With a deep sigh, Brocwulf returned to scavenging, and began wresting a sheath from the corpse from which he had looted the blade. "Brocwulf!" shouted Beorhtgar, his tone now one of anger.

    "A moment! I'm finding a sheath!"

    The Thegn shook his head, but decided that he would let his son do this one last task. He looked back out at the field of battle, which was now filled with the stench of the dead. Some Ængles (Angles) had given chase to the Scottas, most having been commanded to do so in pursuit of glory, but most were wandering the battlefield and looting the corpses that littered it. The Ængles, due to their lack of horsemen, didn't have a habit of pursuit, and most were too tired from the fighting.

    Then adrenaline began to pump through Beorhtgar's veins, as he watched Scottas begin to emerge in mass from the treeline that bordered the battlefield. "Shield wall! Shield wall!" he shouted, lifting his shield and allowing the beginnings of a shield wall to form around him. Yet, it wasn't enough. Many did not hear the cries or see the Scottas, who were moving dangerously fast.

    Beorhtgar grabbed his son and threw him back and then lifted his own sword high into the air. He paused for a moment before letting his sword fall and shouting to his soldiers, "Charge!"
    A chain reaction soon began which caused many to join Beorhtgar's daring charge. He sought to give the Ængles enough time to form a shield wall, and was ready to die to do so. When the Ængles collided with the Scottas, a great slaughter began. Beorhtgar pushed his way towards the front line, having been surpassed by many of his younger troops. As he moved forward towards the Scottas, so did they move towards him.

    Brocwulf watched his Father from behind the newly formed shield wall. Many Scottas had collided with the shield wall, but most were distracted by Beorhtgar's charge. As Brocwulf watched the fight, he watched the Ængles begin to dwindle in number, and he began to worry much for his Father. A brief thought slipped through his mind, in which he reminded himself of the things he would receive were his Father to die, but he immediately shunned the thought. In a way, he knew he would never see his Father, and felt shame that the last words he had exchanged with him had been words of defiance and argument.

    Yet Beorhtgar was not dead yet. He and what few remained of his men were, however, outflanked by the Scottas who far outnumbered them. His blade ripped through bone, flesh, and leather as he fought with what many would have perceived as blood lust, though any one in his scenario would have recognized it as an intent for survival. His arms ached, his shield was broken, and his sword had been all but dulled, but Beorhtgar desperately wanted to see his wife and son again. Yet, against all his wishes and prayers, he never would. First a spear penetrated his shoulder, and then another that grazed his cheek. Several minutes later an axe would crack his helmet and then part his skull, leaving a semi-conscious and bleeding man on the ground. He attempted to scream out, but his body was crushed under the feet of his own soldiers, who would themselves be slaughtered within minutes.

    The Scottas then charged the Ængles, the battle continuing on for hours afterward. Sword, axe, shield, and spear would collide against each other as both sides fought ruthlessly against their foe. Brocwulf fought well throughout the battle, cutting down several Scottas with his decorated blade until he lost three fingers, which would eventually lead to the loss of his entire right hand.

    After the Ængles had won Godfrith of Wiltún, the Hund Ealdor who controlled the Hundred from which Beorhtgar and Brocwulf came from, proclaimed before the King that he was the one who led the charge into the Scottas for which Beorhtgar was responsible. The soldiers did not care enough, nor did their word mean enough, to rival his claim, and Brocwulf was bribed and threatened so that he would not dispute the claims, and so Godfrith would eventually become the Heáhgeréfa (High-Reeve) of Ænglalond, a much respected position. Brocwulf would take his Father's position as Thegn and continue to serve King Thored for many years to come.

    As time passed, the opportunistic Godfrith continued to scheme and plot, and he would become a key player in Ænglisc politics, as well as the key to the rule of King Ealdred Leofricing.
    Last edited by Rabbit55821; January 31, 2017 at 02:31 PM.

  7. #127
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    Good chapter! I like the way that you explain how Beorhtgar's status as a thegn is diminished, in a sense, by being just one nobleman among many in Ænglalond. The tale of Beorhtgar's experiences in the battle is dramatic and moving.

    You encouraged people to vote in the Yearly Awards; e
    veryone is invited to vote for your favourite writing in all three competitions which we are currently running:-

    Writers' Study Yearly Awards 2016

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  8. #128

    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    Thanks Alwyn. This won't be the last we see of Godfrith or Brocwulf either. And I too would suggest that anybody who has not already vote in the variety of challenges currently ongoing!


    Quorum Praeteritum XLI

    Late Winter, 1109 AD


    The King peered closely as a Rusian rider approached him, the man's horse and body draped in scaled armour designed in the manner of the Grécisc (Greeks, Derogatory term for Eastern Romans). Both were surrounded by their protectors, whom were ready to fight and die for their masters, and likely one day would. The King’s beautiful daughter stood beside him, shivering in the cold, her Father having commanded that she be present to greet her new husband. Any man who saw her would be taken by her beauty, her lengthy brown and crimson hair hanging almost down to her waist, and her blue eyes showing a confidence and fierce determination that had captured the eyes and hearts of many suitors, there were a few she even considered but her father had insisted on her marriage to the Rusian prince. She knew little of him other than stories and gossip told around court, but the rumors did him well, portraying him as a brave and handsome man.


    "You are the King Thored, I would presume? It is truly an honor to meet you." the Rusian asked as his horse came to a stop. He spoke in a heavily accented Latin, and Thored had to decipher some of what he said, as his knowledge of the Latin language was apparently somewhat basic.


    "Yes, and you I would likewise assume to be Danilo Rurikovich?"


    The Rider shook his head and chuckled, "Don’t I wish I was. No, I am Sergey, leader of the Prince Danilo’s Druzhina. He sent me out ahead to inform you that he will arrive soon, as his ship has docked safely and is now on the road to Leowic as we speak. He is anxious to meet both you and his betrothed."


    The Ængle King grunted in displeasure, taking it as a slight that Danilo had not come to meet with him directly. "Alright. Then tell him I will be waiting for his presence within my castle."


    Several hours passed before Danilo arrived at the castle. All conversation became hushed and all attention became his as the herald announced his presence to the court and the young Prince strolled into the throne room of King Thored. "Your Majesty, may I present Prince Danilo Rurikovich the First, eldest son of King Yevistafii Rurikovich of Finland, and Heir Apparent to the Kingdom of the Fins.”


    As Danilo crossed the room the King and his court both took time to examine this young Prince. His size made him an imposing figure, and his long black hair and thick beard gave him a mysterious look. The ladies in court saw the rumors of the handsome Rus prince had not been exaggerated, at least not too much. The men saw not a pampered Prince but formidable and fearsome enemy. Thored saw in Danilo his friend Yestafii, as when they had first met they had both been much younger men. Danilo’s face displayed no emotion as he observed the Ængle King.


    “It is an honour to meet you King Thored Leofricing." he said, his Latin much more refined and understandable then Sergey's. Thored was appreciative that he would not require a translator to speak with his ally and future son by law.


    “I am pleased to meet you Prince Rurikovich. As I understand it, you have come to fight alongside me. Am I correct in my presumption?"


    "Yes, you are correct. I have come to help you face your enemy, the King Donnchad (Duncan), in exchange for my bride, Æthelswyth."


    "Ah, my daughter. That is matter for another time, no?"


    Danilo paused for a moment, and it was during this moment that Thored had realized how his impatience made his words sound. He had no intention of keeping his daughter away from the Russ prince, but he knew that Danilo may now assumed such due to what was honest impatience. "I believe that is a matter for the here and now. Might I see her?" He studied the King’s reaction to see if his comment was hiding betrayal or simply a rush to face his enemy in battle, an attitude Danilo had learned can be a dangerous emotion when not controlled.


    With a short nod to Danilo, Thored turned to one of his guards and requested that he summon Æthelswyth. Impatience tore at the Ængle as he wished to see the business of war finished, but he knew that due to his ill-advised manner of speech he now had to go through with the task of marriage to ensure that Danilo trusted him.


    As Æthelswyth was brought out, a smile came across Danilo's face. The woman's beauty surprised Danilo even more than he expected, as he had almost come to expect an ugly bride due to the many nights of drunken nagging from Sergey on the sail to Ænglalond. Though for the most part Sergey was a broody man, he was an entertaining and comedic figure once he was drunk. Likewise Æthelswyth was pleased with her betrothed glad she would not be marrying an ugly man, as sometimes occurs when marriages are arranged.


    "I want the papers authorizing our marriage to be signed before we march, or there will be no march."


    Thored stopped himself before he sighed, taking a deep breath and then agreeing with Danilo's request. The two would then resume to discuss tactics and the current situation of the war for several hours more, before both would retire to their chambers, Danilo being provided with a room fit for a higher noble, though perhaps not a Prince, and would awaken the next day to begin to communicate the plans to their men.


    Two weeks more would pass before they would march out of Leowic to face the King Donnchad. When the two armies met, Donnchad quickly realized he was outnumbered and decided to meet with the Prince and the King. After a long day of negotiation, the war was ended through diplomacy. During the talks, Danilo mostly sat silent at Thored's side, watching him closely. However, he watched the man who sat on the other side of Thored even more closely then the King himself, as the man leaned in to whisper to Thored nearly everytime Donnchad ceased to speak. The Ængle did not trust himself to succesfully negotiate with the Scotta, and recieved much advice from his aide, Deorwald.


    Deorwald was an important man in the court of Thored. Though his title gave him a position of somewhat importance, being a Hund Ealdor, his most important role was as that of Thored's diplomat. When it came to matters of negotiation and smooth words, Deorwald was the most trusted of Thored's courtiers, and as such held much sway in the politics of the realm. With his cunning tongue, Deorwald not only convinced others to unknowingly follow the agenda of King Thored, but also convinced Thored to unknowingly follow his agenda.


    However, Deorwald felt threatened by the emergence of a new wildcard in the politics of the realm: Godfrith of Wiltún, the newly appointed Heáhgeréfa. Godfrith had proved himself to be just as cunning and ruthless as his rivals, and his position gave him as much influence in writing as Deorwald had behind-the-scenes.


    When the negotiations finally ended, no significant land gains had been won by either side, nor had any truly major accomplishments at all been made. King Donnchad gave a small sum of gold to Thored, and King Thored pledged an oath that he would never give or receive aid from the Silver Hands, but both of these moves were purely symbolic.


    Both Kings returned to their capitals, and Danilo stayed for a small time in Leowic before he boarded his ship and returned to Finland. It was here that the ceremony of marriage between Danilo and Æthelswyth took place, as it could not be had in Ænglalond due to the Catholic nature of the Church there. Yevstafii was proud to see his son married at last, and the alliance between Ænglalond cemented in writing and a holy bond rather than the word of two old Kings. The marriage caused somewhat of a controversy between both Kings and their respective Churches, but in the end it would turn out to have no long term effects on either realm.


    Yet neither realm would see peace for long, as political maneuvering and warfare would continue to occur just as would be expected. Soon, however, a new King would emerge who would set Ænglalond on a new and terrifying course.

  9. #129
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    Diplomacy, a negotiation and a strategic marriage are keeping the peace for now. I'm intrigued by the rise of the wildcard, Godfrith, and by the prospect of a 'new and terrifying' course for Ænglalond. Good chapter, looking forward to more!

  10. #130

    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    No lasting peace for the realm - even on a terrifying course. Great update! Looking forward to reading the next chapter!

  11. #131

    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    Thanks guys! Here is another post concerning our mysterious Lady Carline and Thomas Parsons, aka the Flickering Man. Sorry for the delay, but I hope you enjoy! Next post we will see the return of Ealdred to his homeland, and all the political intrigue that brings.






    Bellum Aeternus II

    Late Spring, 302 BC

    Thomas Parsons looked around himself, and took in the spectacle that was the altered Delphi. From his place on the side of Mount Parnassus he could see the mountains in the distance, the city in the valley below and it’s vast olive groves, the coastal plains toward the Ionian sea, and the lush green of spring woven in the rocky landscape. He felt the warmth of the glaring sun on his face. It was almost overwhelming to the senses.

    Several soldiers kneeled around him, the bronze of their armor shining in the bright sun. In this beautiful setting he allowed himself, for a brief and fleeting moment, the illusion they were bowing to him, having heard tales of his might, but he knew that it wasn't true, for he had seen the graceful power which Lady Carline wielded, and knew he could not best her. He wanted to learn her skills for himself. He already had power equal to that of a God, and yet he sought for more.

    Lady Carline watched the different emotions pass upon his face as he took in his surroundings. She knew he enjoyed his power and sought more, being a man who had come to see himself as a god. She however did not seek to give him power, knowing it would only fuel his pride. Instead, she sought to turn him away from the corrupt and murderous individual he had become, for she had in her past been witness to far too many Gods with opinions such as his, and they had set many worlds alight.

    "What is this?" Thomas demanded.

    "My sanctuary." she answered quaintly, standing to look out at the city. A great place of trade and wonders had sprouted up around the temple, and she was praised as the Oracle, though she did not demand the title. If one looked closely enough, it revealed the workings of her inner self; it was an empire which reflected, even if not directly, her personality.

    Taking in the sights around him, Thomas Parsons quickly realized what era now existed in. "Did you build this?"

    "Yes."

    "How?"

    The Lady gave a faint smile, her feeling of pride at seeing her city giving way to a feeling of remorse coming over her. "War and blood. The foundations of this were erected nearly a century ago by my will during the Peloponnesian War. I took advantage of what was a long and bloody war and made it brief, though it became all the more violent. By the time the task was finished, even I did not want what I had made, because there was no more purpose to it. Thus, I had no purpose. I believe that this is what has happened to you, Thomas Parsons. You have no purpose, no drive, and are thus extremely dangerous."

    Thomas allowed the emotional wall he had constructed around himself to crumble. He took in her words and contemplated them. "What do you mean, exactly?"

    "Your purpose was to kill Luke Tempest, was it not?"

    "Well--uh--um---yes. Yes, it was." he answered, fumbling his words as now feelings of remorse had replaced his wonder and awe. Thomas still found himself shocked by how much she knew, especially of things that no one else in existence should have known of save for him.

    "You turned away from that. You let him live, at least for a time,because your pride made you believe you were higher than your purpose. So I appeared, and I became your drive. Your path was to discover me, and I wanted it this way, because when a person with such might as ours has nothing to work towards, or to work for, they begin to turn themselves to other things. Dangerous things. They begin to dabble in the knowledge which is sewn into the universe, they begin to challenge time and space. Your search for purpose, even one unconsciously done, would have lead to destruction, pain, war. You have to remember that even the people who only exist because of your actions, your journey through time, they are still people. They still have lives, histories, feelings, minds."

    “I did not forget. I know they had lives, but are not there lives expendable in pursuit of a higher purpose?”

    “That is exactly my point Thomas, you had no purpose. You convinced yourself that whatever you were doing, you were always right, because you were always God. What purpose did the murder of Luke Tempest serve to you? You killed him simply because it was time for you to leave, and you needed to ensure there were no loose ends.”

    "How did you forget?"

    With a deep, remorseful sigh, Lady Carline looked to the ground and recounted her trauma. She could still see the flames rising from the surface to consume everything she had once known. "I had a third world view of the end of my world. I sat in the Temple of Delphi and watched across time as my world was subject to war. You see, I was the first of many. Most of my life was spent being trained and readied for my purpose. I was to reach across time and give humanity a hope it had never had before. I was to build paradise, but the machines that were used to achieve that goal became weapons. Everyone had there own idea of what paradise was, and they were willing to kill for it. They even came after me, but the ones that did I overpowered, for I was the oldest of them all. I killed everyone that came for me, and I killed everyone that did not obey me. I was surrounded by a pool of blood, and it took me a lifetime to realize that the blood was needless, and that I had become everything I despised. Yet it was too late, because everyone was already dead."

    Thomas was stunned. The woman before him had once seemed to him as a playful, cheery figure, yet he now knew that at the core she was a traumatized and wounded woman. Her story forced him to recount everything he had come to believe, and to consider her words.

    "Do you believe it now?" she asked, her eyes locked upon him in pity. She did not want him to go down the path she had.

    "Believe what?"

    "That your powers are not gifts, but rather they are assignments of a task. There are others such as ourselves who still exist. For the most part, they choose to live in seclusion. To study, learn, and ensure that the horrors of the past do not occur again. But they will. New horrors are arising. Our timelines are separate; mine is a result of your original time. Yet your world arose and fell, like mine, many years ago. By the time Morcar Leofricing had died, your people had set your world and time ablaze in war and suffering. Those who remain live as outcasts now, but it will not be that way forever. It is in human nature that two groups of alternate origin, especially origins so far separated from each other, will eventually come to war or subjugation. But perhaps we can stop what's coming, you and I. Perhaps with the abilities we all wield, we can ascend above human nature, and become something else. Our task is to end war, and to end bloodshed, which I believe we can do."

    "Do you truly believe it possible? Even with all you have witnessed and undergone? Maybe it should be our goal to win the conflict rather than avert it."

    "As was once said, if we do not end war, it will end us. I believe that we have ability to end conflict and strife and bloodshed, and that we must if we are to explore the secrets of the universe, as we now find ourselves capable of accomplishing with ease."

    Thomas Parsons did not answer aloud, and yet he answered numerous times in his own head, each a different response from a different perspective. She had given him much to contemplate. She hoped he would truly take it all in, and learn their powers were as much a curse as they were a gift.

    "Contemplate what I have said Thomas. This world of mine exists in a point of human history of great philosophical thinking, and thus we must do much thinking ourselves.Some things here you will recognize as a student of history others you will not because they have changed because of my actions. We will remain for a year, perhaps two, so that we can argue, contemplate, plan, and so that I may set the affairs of this world I have built in order. I will also teach of what I have learned and experienced so that you may step into this new world with great knowledge, something that is demanded by the situation we find ourselves in."

    With that, the Lady vanished from sight to another point in Delphi, where she began conversing with those who praised her as a God. A new era had begun, and Thomas now found himself at the center of it.


  12. #132
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    Lady Carline's story is a moving one, I wonder if hearing her experiences will convince Thomas Parsons not to follow the same path, as she hoped.

  13. #133

    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    Hey! I know it's been a while, but here is a new post. This one is the longest I have ever written, surpassing Danilo's final battle by 749 words. I hope you enjoy it! Also, it's now a year and five days to the day when I started this AAR! There is much behind us, but there is so much more to go! 832 years, to be exact.


    Quorum Praeteritum XLII


    Early Spring to Late Fall, 1116 AD

    Many would be astonished by the city of Leowic, but Ealdred Leofricing was not one of them. Nearing it's ports upon his ship, he was only impressed by the city in reference to it’s past, for he had spent many years living amongst the Rhomaioi (Romans) of Constantinople, the Queen of Cities. The men who surrounded him, which most would have thought to be a barbarian warband if not for the knowledge of Ealdred's return, were similarly unimpressed, as most of the four dozen men surrounding him had been Varangoi (Varangians) for as many, if not more, years as the Ætheling (Prince).


    Despite this, Ealdred was happy to return to his homeland. He had been absent for nearly a decade, and would be glad to be among his people again, and speaking his own language. While there were, of course, Seaxna (Saxons) amongst the Varangoi, many having fled Ænglalond (England) after the Norman Invasion, it was different to be amongst the Seaxna in Ænglalond then it was to be among Seaxna in Constantinople. Nevertheless, he was sure his Father, Thored, would berate him for his Roman style of dress, as he was adorned in bright colors and gems, with a purple cloak decorated in jewels, a gift from the Emperor, draped over a scarlet tunic.


    "So, this is the Queen City of the Saxons?"


    "Yes. It's not much compared to Constantinople, is it?"


    "Actually, I was going to say it's more than I expected. The way some Rhomaioi speak, one would think that the Latins were barbarians."


    Ealdred chuckled at his companion's remark, turning his head to face him. The man was Alexios Komnenos, alternatively known as Alexios the Scarred. He and his children had accompanied Ealdred on his return to Ænglalond, the Ætheling having saved them from the wrath of the Basileus (Eastern Roman Emperor) during his time as a Varangoi. Though Alexios had never made his own attempt at the throne, unlike his brothers, the primary reason Ealdred had managed to convince the Basileus to spare him was the many scars upon his face, which among the world of the Rhomaioi would prevent him from ever achieving the coveted throne, though everyone who knew him believed he would be a great Emperor.


    "Just consider yourself warned, my Father is not the most accepting of other cultures."


    Alexios laughed and gestured to Ealdred's own outfit. "Surely, I will follow your example of modest discretion." he replied sarcastically.


    Many watched as the ship entered the port of Leowic, including Godfrith of Wiltún (Wilton), the Heáhgeréfa (High-Reeve). As Ealdred and his host disembarked from their ship, finally stepping foot on solid ground again, Godfrith ensured that he was the first to greet Ealdred. After informing the Ætheling of who he was, Godfrith went through the normal steps of formalities, before requesting that Ealdred find him once he had finished his business of arrival.


    Unexpectedly, Ealdred took much longer then Godfrith would have thought to complete his 'arrival' to Leowic, spending much of his first night in Leowic drinking and whoring. When he finally met with Godfrith, the Heáhgeréfa was handling the matters of the court, observing the books of the treasury alongside the Hordere (Treasurer), Wilbehrt, in preparation for the task of collecting taxes that would begin within a few weeks.


    "You wanted to see me, Godfrith?"


    With a sigh of relief, Godfrith stood from his leaning position and nodded to Ealdred. "Yes, your Highness. Please, come in. Wilberht, may we have some privacy?"


    Wilberht nodded and silently exited the room, somewhat irked that he had been sent out of his own office, though not willful enough to argue. As the door closed, Godfrith took a moment to collect himself before speaking. "Your Highness, might I ask what you know of the current situation in Leowic?"


    "My Father has gone campaigning in the north, and my brother, Harold, is dead. That is what I know."


    "There is much more going on behind closed doors. Many blame your Father for the death of Harold, as his life was claimed by an assassin in revenge for Thored's attempts to place Valdemar Knytling on the throne of Denmark. Even at this moment your Father still has men plotting against King Gustav."


    "And what do you think?"


    "I think that the death of your brother is the result of only your Father's actions, I even warned him of what may have and did occur. His suspicions have caused much harm elsewhere in the Kingdom as well."


    Ealdred did not answer immediately. He had heard the rumors, of course, especially during his drunken expeditions the night before, but to have a man of such high power to state it outright, and treat it as if it was fact, that was something else entirely. "What other harm has he caused?"


    "Much, to be sure. After his sister's betrayal, he became quite paranoid. With the struggles the Kingdom has undergone, he has come to believe that violence is the most effective solution. Some say he gained this perspective from King Yevstafii, who many call the Hangman. His Héarthweru have acted almost as a police force, neutralizing those who he believes to be threats."


    "This is how the Rhomaioi handle their affairs, and it is quite effective. Why do you tell me this as if it was a blight upon the land my Father has cast?"


    Godfrith was stunned, having not expected such a response from Ealdred. "Because many have died because of this, including your brother."


    "Men die in politics. I would wager that you yourself have killed men, or taken advantage of death, in order to achieve your position. This is nothing new. I have returned to Ænglalond to attend the funeral of my brother and to return to my homeland. I will play politics someday, but not today, and not against my Father. Now, I will leave you to your business."


    Without waiting for response, Ealdred turned and exited the room, leaving a stunned Godfrith behind him. Yet, Godfrith knew that every word his Ætheling had said was true. It was not disputable that Thored had tyrannical tendencies, but Godfrith only sought to act against the King for his own interests, not those of the common folk or even other nobles. He had thrived off of death and lies, his assassins and spies spread numerously over Leowic, and he expected that someday a greater man would take his life for their own interests.


    Ealdred did not speak to many for the next few weeks, awaiting his Father's return. It would be three weeks before the gates to Leofricing opened and Thored rode into the city on the back of his northern gelding. He was surrounded by an entourage of men, most similarly mounted. The Ætheling watched his Father approach the castle at the center of Leofricing, but it was not the excitable moment it should have been, but rather a grim one.


    A letter had arrived many weeks before alerting Ealdred that the King had been wounded in battle, and he was returning to the capitol now as a dying man, the wound having become infected. Thored soon found himself in a bed, many attempting to save his life in lust of gold, fame, or out of simple lawfulness, and he knew he would soon die.


    When Ealdred first entered his Father's chambers, he froze for a moment. Though he had seen his Father before now, this was the first time nothing else distracted him the condition Thored was in. His father had always been a King, a powerful presence in any room he stood in. Now, despite the incense burning to disguise the reviling smell of infection and the royal fashion the King was dressed in for appearance, Ealdred could see his Father's pain, weakness. He could see his Father’s demeanor of disappointment as he reflected upon the past events of his life, and the things that had been lost to time despite his every intent to accomplish them.


    Seeing his Father in this manner served to bring out the demons that haunted his own thoughts; his regrets, his fears and doubts, but the thing that was most at the forefront of his mind was the years he had spent in a far-off, distant land instead of spending them beside his Father and his family, the only place he truly belonged. Now all of that time had to be lived in a very short space.


    As Ealdred approached the bed his father opened his eyes and before he had a chance to speak his Father began in his own deep voice. "My time, like that of all past Kings and peasants alike, is coming to an end. You will soon wear my crown, Ealdred.”


    Kneeling beside his Father's bed, the Ætheling licked his chapped lips and sighed. "I did not want it, you know. I never expected to have it. I ran from it.”


    "You are my son and my heir. You do not have a choice. If we were to abandon law now, it would be used as a weapon against us.”


    "I know, but there are those who will never see me as a true King. There are far too many whispers and rumors concerning my parentage, some of which may have some reasoning and logic behind them."


    ”Many tried to convince me to listen to those rumors, to disinherit you, but I never will do either. You are my son and heir.” King Thored responded,


    "But others do hear them, and they take them as truth. The Norþmandisc (Normans) listened to them, and I had expected my brothers to listen too. I left because I did not want to die for a crown I did not expect to receive."


    "I kept your brothers in control. I have battled the Norþmandisc more than once, and the Seaxna would not have threatened the stability of the Kingdom, for they have a common foe with the Crown and all others of our people. You left because of a misaimed paranoia." the King bluntly stated. He wanted to shout and scream at Ealdred, expressing an anger which had built itself up for decades, but he knew it was pointless. The past was the past, and they both had the future to worry over.


    Tears were at the edge of Ealdred's eyes. He regretted that he had left to Constantinople, rather than staying by his Father's side. His Father’s words were true; he had left to save himself from an event that never occurred. As Thored saw his son’s eyes watering, he attempted to comfort him.


    "We speak of events that have already passed, but you are here now Ealdred, and that comforts me and makes me happier than you know, so let us concern ourselves with now. Be glad that you are a man, able to comprehend my words, rather than the boy that I was when your Grandfather was dying. You have traveled Europe, and you have seen amazing things and also the evil of men, both heathen and Catholic, who seek to push their own evil agendas and religions upon the world. I was a child with no idea what would be asked of me, or the responsibility that would be placed on me.”


    A smile emerged upon Ealdred’s face, and he clasped his Father’s weak hand in his own. “I am glad.”


    The two continued to speak for many hours afterward, the sun disappearing under the horizon before Ealdred emerged from the chambers. Despite the morbid circumstances they enjoyed their time with each other, saying things that were long overdue. Although some hostility still existed between them it quickly faded and weakened. They discussed a variety of matters, ranging from the politics of Europe and condition of the court to the funny habits Ealdred had as a child and the experiences he had amongst the Grécisc (Greek) courts. Thored found himself particularly interested by his son’s description of the grand architecture and fashion of the Mediterranean.


    When Ealdred finally departed, his eyelids sagging heavy, Thored chuckled. He found it depressing amusing that in death the two were becoming closer than they had been in life. While it saddened him to think of the wasted time, he was grateful and elated that he was granted a small time to heal old wounds.


    Soon, another King arrived in the city, as Yevstafii and Anastasia Rurikovich docked in the city.


    Dressed in multiple fine layers of linen and wool and an outer layers made up of light Rusian furs embroidered with gold and silver, Yevstafii watched closely as another man approached him. The man introduced himself and extended a hand to Yevstafii, who took it reluctantly. "I am Deorwald, your majesty, courtier to the King Thored Leofricing."


    "Hello." Yevstafii answered, his response simple.


    "Your daughter is quite lovely, if I may say." he said, his tone suggesting that he did not know how to continue the conversation. This was not true, of course, but rather a diplomatic tactic, a method to deliver a compliment without it seeming too overt.


    "Thank you, Deorwald. If I may ask, what is your purpose for meeting with me?"


    "To warn you. There are certain factions which plan to see you both dead."


    "Who?" asked Yevstafii, his interest perked.


    "The King Thored."


    The Finnish King nodded. It did not take him long to realize why Thored would want him dead. It was the same reason that Thored had killed his own sister; Fear. Yevstafii was one of the few men in Europe who knew of the Leofricing Secret, and Thored wanted to ensure no others learned of it.


    Several days passed before Deorwald's warning came true. Having isolated himself in his chambers for most of his visit, Yevstafii surprised the court when he declared he was tired of wasting time hold up in the castle waiting on King Thored, and that he wished to go out to tour the countryside. He gathered up his retainers and his horses and rode out into the lush green hills, savoring the serene moment.


    Deorwald stood looking out the window of his exchequer as the carriage for the Finnish King, his Princess, and their entourage departed. He had warned Yevstafii. If the Fin failed to heed the warning, there was nothing more to do except wonder what consequences would come of the death of the two Rurikoviches. Soon those consequences would be obvious.


    When the attack on the King and his daughter arrived it occurred swiftly, violently, and decisively.


    The driver pulled back hard on the reins in his hands, bringing the horses pulling the carriage to a sudden stop. He cursed as he looked upon the several armed men who blocked the road ahead. Before the Druzhina could react they saw a variety of armoured horsemen riding up fast from behind. Knowing they were trapped, the retainers drew their weapons and surrounded the carriage, all being prepared to defend it with their lives.


    Arnost de Halley had been surprised when Godfrith had approached him about an assassination attempt. At first, Arnost had pointed out his lack of skill in poisons, but as Godfrith continued to explain himself, the Norman had become more and more intrigued. Though it was obvious the ambush would be dangerous, gold was gold, and Arnost, a warrior at heart, invited such a dangerous and thrilling goal.


    The horsemen slowed as the carriage came to a stop. Arnost drew his sword and held it high, “Atta---”


    Before he could finish his command a javelin struck him in the chest, knocking him from his mount and throwing him to the ground. Seeing this, a soldier named Raimund shouted for his men to halt as he pulled the reins of his own horse. The tables quickly turned as a blade soon found it’s way to Raimund’s horse, and soon the same blade would run him through, ending his life.


    Rus Druzhina had launched a counterattack, quickly cutting through the Norman mercenaries. Yevstafii grinned as he led his men to an assured victory. So intent were the hunters on their prey that they had failed to see they had become the hunted.


    In the final moments of his life, Raimund could hear cries, shouting, and the sounds of battle. The sounds became more and more faint as time slowly went on. In truth, it was no surprise. Though the situation itself was a shock, he had always known he would die in battle as a warrior, not as the rich man Arnost had claimed he would be.


    The mercenaries had scattered, most unwilling to die for a potential payday, especially one so unachievable. As Yevstafii looked upon the scattering assassins, his blood boiled at the thought of these sobaki daring to attack him or his daughter.


    “Run them down and kill them all.” came his order.


    As his Druzhina set out after the remainder of the attackers, Yevstafii stopped his horse next to the carriage. As the door opened Anastasia looked up at her Father. She held
    a very ornate sword, a gift he had given her many years before. “I see you took all the fun for yourself.” she said, her voice shaky. She wanted to impress her Father, but in truth she was frightened for she had never been so close to combat.


    “Daughter, you sometimes frighten even me.” he answered.


    “I doubt that very much Father.”

    Yevstafii was beside himself with anger, enraged at the betrayal of his old friend. As he returned to the castle he turned to Iziaslav, the commander of his Druzhina.


    “Send word to Deorwald and tell him I demand an audience with King Thored!”


    Thored, still found himself bedridden. When the Fin met with Thored, the mood was uneasy. Yevstafii felt a sense of pity for Thored, but it was a faint feeling disguised behind his wroth.


    King Yevstafii walked into Thoreds chamber stopping at the foot of his bed


    "You would betray our friendship old friend." Yevstafii spat.


    "What do you speak of?"


    The old Yevstafii's knuckles turned white as his hand formed a tight fist. He wanted to grab Thored and shout at him, but he knew that he could not. He was amongst the Ængles, and thus could not attack the Ænglisc King lest he be imprisoned or attacked himself. His tone reflected his anger, however, as it became harsh and loud.


    "You tried to have me killed, and for what?"


    Thored sat himself upright in his bed and glared at Yevstafii, his look stern and cold. "You and I are the last men alive who know of Morcar's Secret, of the Flickering Man and the woman Sága. I am going, and thus you too must go."


    With a cunning smile across his face, Yevstafii leaned in, staring into Thored's eyes. "Then I would recommend you burn the whole of the court of Finland, or your future will never truly be gone. Perhaps it will one day taper off into naught but a legend and a rumor, but it will nonetheless be present."


    Of course Yevstafii was bluffing, but it felt so good to throw defeat in the face of Thored, who had deeply betrayed the Finnish King. He had thought that Thored was a man with a mind almost as his own, a man with a deep trust and friendship for Yevstafii, but it seemed distance and time had eroded all signs of that, or that paranoia had similarly eroded the mind of the Ænglisc King. In truth, Yevstafii had only told his son and a scant few trusted friends. He himself was to paranoid to trust many.


    "Then perhaps I will have to try." Thored blurted in seething anger.


    "Good luck." Yevstafii growled as he left the room.


    With that, Yevstafii turned and stormed from the room. The old friends were now undoubtably rivals, though their rivalry would not last for long. As he was leaving the castle still furious from his encounter, Yevstafii was stopped in the halls by the son of his newfound rival.


    "King Yevstafii, I am Ealdred Leofricing, your daughter's betrothed. My Lord I pray that I might hold audience with you and Anastasia.”


    "Young Prince, perhaps you might hold audience with your Father first. I do not understand my Lord has something happened? Your Father attempted to have me killed. So you will see my daughter when you say your vows to her." And with that, Yevstafii departed, leaving behind a confused Thored Leofricing.


    Over the next weeks, Yevstafii would speak many curses against Thored, and Ealdred would sit by his Father's side many times, repeatedly asking why he would send men to kill King Yevstafii Thored finally chose to tell his son of the secret of Morcar. The secret he and Yevstafii shared. It was no small thing to take from a man on his deathbed, though Ealdred was not entirely sure of it's truth, believing that it could possibly be naught but the mutterings of an old and dying man, and yet though he took the words with a pinch of salt, he listened closely, believing that if they were true, they could alter his future, perhaps even his past.


    Then the day came. Thored died in much pain and agony laying upon a bed filled with pus and his own waste. It was not a pleasant sight, nor a tolerable smell. Yet Ealdred endured it to be at his father’s side so they might talk and mend relations with the time they had left. As he looked upon his Father and mourned his passing.The only comfort he could find was his father was now free of his pain and worries. Soon they would be his. Ealdred was crowned as a King, and was married to the Princess Anastasia. Many figures watched these events from afar, among them Alexios, Godfrith, and Deorwald, all with their own plots. Another man watched more closely, peering into the political mist and seeing a scant truth. His name was not known to many, and yet it would be remembered in legacy by all.


    His name was Tempest.


  14. #134
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    An exciting chapter, you have got me interested in what will happen to Ealdred. I wonder if Anastasia will ever use that ornate sword and what role Tempest will play in the events to come. I wonder if you would like to enter the MAARC LXIX.

  15. #135
    Caillagh de Bodemloze's Avatar to rede I me delyte
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    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    You packed a lot into that chapter, Rabbit!

    I too am intrigued by the introduction of this additional mysterious character...






  16. #136

    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    Hello guys! After a very long break, I have returned! In this chapter we shall see the beginning of the story of Aelfhun Dinne as well as the beginning of a lengthy story line within the early days of King Ealdred I.

    I feel as if I should clarify first that Aelfhun Dinne is the grandson of Lucam Dinne, also known as Luke Tempest (Lucam Dinne being the Old English version of his name) via Deorwine Dinne, who was mentioned in earlier chapters alongside the Flickering Man before the fateful meeting of Lady Carline and Thomas Parsons.

    I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and the ones which come after it! Also, I want to thank you guys for the support and remarks you have given in the past, and I strive to be worthy of them going forward. Enjoy!


    Edit: Apologize to any recent viewers, as the post was copied twice. I have fixed the issue.

    Quorum Praeteritum XLIII
    Late Fall to Early Winter, 1116

    "You wanted to see me?"

    "I need you to go to Leowic."

    "For the coronation, I presume?"

    "For the funeral and marriage as well."

    There was a moment of silence. Both men observed each other, one stationary and the other wandering, tracing his hand along the edge of the table. Wooden splinters embedded themselves in his hand, causing crimson blood to slowly emerge from small holes in his fingers. He paid the small injuries no mind, instead concentrating on the plethora of voices that came to his ears.

    Most of the voices were of no consequences; the murmurings of the peasants under the man's domain, the spirits who walked the land, the guards who stood outside the door. One began to emerge louder and louder, coming from the dog who paced the room. "You shouldn't send him, Deorwine. Send Brithnoth. Brithnoth trusts the mission."

    "The Hound is wrong. We have no reason not to trust him, and to send him would reaffirm the confidence of our co-conspirators, to prove that our house is united." came another voice, this one emanating from a shadowman who darted between the dark corners of the room.

    "Yet the stakes are very high. And what if he were to be detained?"

    In a moment of forceful will, Deorwine demanded both of the spirits to disperse. The dog and the shadowman both disappeared, but he could still feel their presence, watching him from the corners. Deorwine eyed the other man, his son, hoping that he did not pay too much attention to the fading spirits.

    "Aelfhun, I am trusting you to do this. I need you to be my---"

    With that the moment completely vanished, and gave way to what was true. Or rather, what was now.

    Deorwine felt a hand on his shoulder attempting to stir him awake. He opened his eyes and saw his wife standing before him barren of clothing. "It's morn, my dear."

    With a nod to his wife, Deorwine lifted himself from his bed and went about his day. His dream was not the first of his that were of that sort. Indeed they came often to him, dreams that felt as real as the waking day, until the waking day came. He was fascinated by how easily one could discern between the two once awake, even if in the moment they were consumed completely by the dream. Now he had but to see if the dream was a vision or a fiction, as often his dreams were the former, but the occasion was not rare that his dreams proved to be nothing but the fictions of a restless mind. He could only guess at the veracity of the dream, and the only moment in which he would receive the truth would be if the moment came upon him. Often it was that by that moment he had forgotten his dream.

    "You wanted to see me?"

    "I need you to go to Leowic."

    "For the coronation, I presume?"

    "For the funeral and marriage as well."

    The truth was confirmed, and Deorwine took some delight in it, as he always did when his abilities displayed themselves. Deorwine walked around the table as he spoke, tracing his hand along it. Splinters entered his hand, but he ignored them. Things happened exactly as they had in his dream, which he had awoken from nearly three weeks beforehand.

    Aelfhun watched Deorwine closely, and became saddened upon seeing the crimson blood dripping from Deorwine’s fingers. The elder man’s eyes moved between two figures who Aelfhun could not see as he listened to the conversation of non-percievable spirits. Aelfhun could not hear nor see them, and yet he knew it was likely that Deorwine was seeing them, as he had claimed to be doing many times before, though now he had ceased to tell Aelfhun of his supposedly mystical advisement.

    "Aelfhun, I am trusting you to do this. I need you to be my representative to the royal court." Deorwine said, his tone low and soft.

    "You can rely on me, Father. I will set out within two days time."

    "Good."

    There was an uncomfortable silence between the two. Aelfhun watched as Deorwine made what he believed to be subtle gestures. "Goodbye." Aelfhun said as he began to leave. Deorwine gave a brief wave, but Aelfhun was already nearly out of the room by the time he did.

    As he had told his Father he would, Aelfhun retrieved the supplies he would need for his journey, as well as supplies for the three guards that would accompany him and the servants and seamen who would come also. When the ship was readied and their supplies loaded, Aelfhun set off to the north, intent upon coming to Leowic.

    "Welcome to Leowic."

    "Thank you." answered Aelfhun. The guard he was answering to was distracted and only muttered his words. He had been on his post for many hours, greeting nobles and representatives as they came into the city's docks, and had engaged in a game of knucklebones with several fellow guardsmen.

    There were dozens of merchants aligned along the streets, all wanting to take advantage of the massive influx of rich men into the city. Aelfhun's guards shooed away many, though he did stop his entourage upon sight of a merchant selling French spices. Soon after making a small purchase of spices, Aelfhun came upon the residence of his cousin by law, the Hordere (Treasurer) Wilberht. As he looked upon the residence another man came out to greet him, who introduced himself as Egelbert.

    "I wish you a good morn, Egelbert. Pardon my unawareness, but are we kin?" asked Aelfhun as he followed Egelbert into the residence of Wilberht.

    "Indeed we are, Aelfhun Dinne, but you might be forgiven, for we are not kin of blood, but of law, and even by that distant as such that my daughter might even be wed to you within the constraints of legality. I am uncle to Wilberht's bride, Eanwin." came the answer from Egelbert, who spoke with the rough and hardened voice one might expect of a man of his size, for he was a man of great muscle, though in height he was lacking.

    "Ah, I see. Well, I hope you will not take my ignorance to harshly in this matter. It is a rare occasion that I depart from my Father's township, Ayesley."

    Egelbert answered first with a laughter before words, "I will not, do not worry. I know of the rarity of your departure, and I know well the man that often comes in your stead. He is named as Brithnoth of Ayesley. If I might ask, is he still of good healths and circumstance?"

    Aelfhun tensed at the mention of Brithnoth. He despised the man, so much so that he even found the name Brithnoth to be a spited one in his mind. Brithnoth was often looked upon by Deorwine as a second son, and often treated as even more of a son then Aelfhun was. The situation had not always been thus, of course, but as Aelfhun had begun to realize the extent of his Father's insanity, he found himself much more estranged from him, even untrusted and unwanted.

    "He is of fine health." he blurted, his tone of spite heard easily by Egelbert who raised an eyebrow. Egelbert knew Brithnoth well, and found himself confused as to how anyone could feel so towards such a charismatic and loyal man.

    Leading him inside, Egelbert showed Aelfhun to a pair of chairs, where they waited for the emergence of Wilberht. Few words had been exchanged between the two since Aelfhun had made his anger plain, and Egelbert sought to begin again the conversation. "What's it like in Ayesley? Never been that far south myself."

    "It's nice, but it rains a lot. Sometimes too much." answered Aelfhun, his gaze not moving from the servants who carried his things into his room. He gazed intently, frightful that one might slip a hand inside his chests and steal from him. He might have stepped outside to watch them unload from the carriage, but he trusted in his companions, Leofgeat, Odalric, and Alfwold, all three of whom kept watch outside.

    "Ah, it's the same up here. Or at least, from my perspective it seems so. Like I said, never been to Lundenwic. I've heard the language is different down there, though by your tongue is doesn't seem that much so." asked Egelbert. He wanted to continue the conversation, rather than sit in an uncomfortable silence, but it seemed Aelfhun wasn't intent on speaking much.

    "It's not to much different. It's a mix of dialects really. Some areas still speak the pure Énglisc, while in some areas you'd think they were all Norþmandisc. In truth, in some areas they all are. My tongue isn't much to go by though, as my Father was as intent on me learning many languages as his Father was on him. There's really no reason for me to mix tongues if I know them all."

    Egelbert nodded, "Hmm, makes sense. I suppose being the tradesmen your family are, you'd need to know a lot of languages. Well, if I may say so, your Énglisc seems just fine to me. Who'd you learn it from?"

    "Father, as most languages are learned." Aelfhun said, intently watching a particular servant he was paranoid of. The man was of long red hair and a thick beard, two traits Aelfhun was quick to associate with barbarianism, as he knew the Irish reputation for war and chaos. Aelfhun indeed had to not even yet become used to the beards of the northern Seaxna, as in the south most were clean-shaven, a Norþmandisc tradition adopted over time.

    "Ah." With that, Egelbert gave up on the conversation, deciding within his mind that Aelfhun was either of foul mood or of ill disposition towards him. By this, Egelbert was displeased, for he had sought to build good relations with the young Aelfhun, and sought to know more of the south and it's traditions, for though he and Brithnoth had spent much time together, they were often too consumed by laughter and jovial situation, or of circumstance too serious, to discuss matters which fell between, such as southern weather and language.

    Aelfhun, with an focused eye, looked about the room and examined it. There were a few chairs, numbering at most five, but notably there was a shield that sat in the corner, and upon it was a heraldic device of many bright colors. The device displayed many birds, who were under a green chevron and laid upon a red field. There were also several doors in the room, all leading to other rooms, though as a whole the residence seemed dirty, and was not of a very large size. It was not an impressive residence, but the situation was understandable, as Aelfhun suspected the residence was more for Wilberht's family then himself, as courtiers often found themselves living with their lieges more then their families, though many made the choice to live with both simultaneously.

    "When will Wilberht arrive?" Aelfhun asked, becoming impatient.

    "Oh, um, he will likely arrive within a few hours. My apologies if you thought he would arrive soon."

    With a deep sigh, Aelfhun stood and shook his head, displaying a fake smile to satisfy Egelbert. He was much annoyed by the non-presence of Wilberht, especially since no one had thought to inform him. "Then I will rest. The journey has been long, and my body is tired and sore from riding. Is there a bed for me?"

    Egelbert rose, his face somewhat red as he realized his mistake. "Yes, in that room there. Wilberht suggested that one be prepared in preparation of such need of rest."

    "Good." grunted Aelfhun. He quickly disappeared into the room and soon after fell asleep. Egelbert sighed and shook his head. "An odd one, that one." he said to Wilberht's daughter, a young woman named Godelina, who emerged as soon as Aelfhun vanished, not liking unknown company.

    "Perhaps he just doesn't like you." she said playfully.

    "Ah, perhaps your words at last have some wisdom." came his answer with a chuckle.

    None disturbed Aelfhun in his rest, and soon his consciousness slipped away as he began to snore, now soundly asleep. As Aelfhun slept, many dreams came upon him. Most ended in a short fashion, and were of little consequence, and indeed most of them were forgotten come his rise. One, however, was vivid and long.

    Within the realm of dreams he watched a storm unleash a great rain, and lightning struck the ground and scattered a group of birds, who came then in vengeance to attack the storm itself, becoming great birds of prey and striking with their claws and attempting to part the clouds with their talons. The storm struck back, and it's rain became heavier and it's lightning became more frequent, and soon many birds had been struck down, until only three remained, and they huddled within a ray of light given by the parted clouds, while flashes of a white fire sprung from the skies and illuminated the whole of the dark valley, burning the ground around the birds.

    As Aelfhun stirred in his sleep, witnessing a clash of bird and storm, Godelina watched him through the doorway, a smile coming to her face. He was little older then eighteen, and she was younger then him by two years, and as she watched him stir she delighted in her own fantasies. Soon she returned to her bed, for she was afraid of the consequences if any were to witness her spying. She had only been brave enough to emerge because darkness had already fallen, and night lay upon the land, and her family lay upon their beds.

    The residence was then quiet save for the snores of the sleeping, and though each had their fears, all were blissfully unaware of the doom that would soon be brought upon them, and the blood that would be shed in the name of Kings. Only Aelfhun was given an inkling of an idea, and even he did not understand it fully, for his dreams had a grim message that it was not yet time for him to know.

    Last edited by Rabbit55821; August 23, 2017 at 09:33 PM.

  17. #137
    Caillagh de Bodemloze's Avatar to rede I me delyte
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    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    It's good to see this back.

    Aelfhun and Deorwine both seem to have a gift for seeing the future in their dreams. I'm guessing that's something to do with their ancestry?






  18. #138
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    Yes, welcome back, it is good to see your story continue! I'm intrigued by the different languages or dialects of this era - and also by Aelfhun's mission and his dream. I'm also wondering about Godelina's interest in Aelfhun.

  19. #139

    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    Thanks for the responses guys! I am glad to be back!


    Callaigh, you are correct in this assumption. They owe their visions and abilities to their descendance from Luke. There will be a more in depth, in story explanation later. I would say though, don't entirely trust their visions. The mind can still be tainted by madness.


    I'm glad you find those aspects intriguing, Alwyn. I think it's interesting as well to consider such cultural changes when playing historical strategy games. Though things like that aren't examined in video games often, it's still fun to imagine. Perhaps I will have to write an interlude on that. As for Aelfhun, we will discover more about him as we go, and concerning Godelina, her importance may not be readily evident, but I can promise that she will be important later on.


    Spoiler for GoT Watchers if you haven't watched Ep7...
    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 
    This post is dedicated to Littlefinger, one of my favourite characters. He never found true love...


    Quorum Praeteritum XLIV

    Late Fall, 1116

    Aelfhun was stirred awake by a loud sound as Egelbert rapped against the door. He only gave a loud grunt as answer, and he laid in thought for a moment about his earlier dream. He thought about the purpose of it, and the topic weighed heavy on his mind as he stood up and walked to the door, clothed only as he had been when he fell asleep, which was to say not much, and he looked around for a sign of Wilberht the Hordere.



    "Did Wilberht never return?" Aelfhun asked of Egelbert upon not finding his host.


    "No, Aelfhun, he did not. I have received word from his aide that we will see him only when we come upon the funeral of the late King Thored."


    Aelfhun shook his head in disappointment. "Then I suppose I shall see him there. When is the funeral?"


    "It is to begin at today's noon."


    "I see. What of the coronation and marriage?"


    Egelbert froze for a moment and licked his lips. "Um...the coronation has already passed. It was held only a day after Thored's death, and the marriage was held the day after that."


    Aelfhun clenched his fists behind his back in anger, and swore many curses internally against Egelbert, who he could now think of only as a fool, never having been one to take easily a lack of intelligence, or even general inferiority. Yet also Aelfhun was confused, for the Kings Thored and Willelm had held grand ceremonies of coronation, summoning all the land to see them crowned. "Why? And why did you not tell me?"


    "I...I thought you knew, young lord. And...and as for the purpose of such an early coronation, I can only guess by what Wilberht has told me, and that which he had to say suggested the purpose was...fear." Egelbert answered, stammering his words. He was indeed not known for his wise mind, but rather for his good heart and swordsmanship. Yet Aelfhun did not give mind to that anymore, and rather realized why the coronation had been held at so early a date.


    It became obvious quickly to Aelfhun that the purpose was indeed fear. Fear of Godefroy de Montbrai, cousin to the King Ealdred and son of Robere de Montbrai and Eadwine Leofricing, for a great faction had formed in the name of Godefroy and his claim to the throne. Many feared the coming of Ealdred, for he was known as a foreigner, and was named as Ealdred the Grécisc, which is to mean Ealdred the Greek, and also many great rumors spread of his parenting, many thinking him a bastard son of Blanche Capet, and as such many did not see him as the rightful claimant to the throne, nor a good enough man for it.


    Godefroy also had great favor among the Normans, for though he was of Leofricing motherhood, his male heritage was of great honor, for both his Father and Grand-Uncle were men known by their great service to King Willelm, who was known still in the south as Willelm the Conqueror, a brave man of much military accomplishments and accredited with civilizing the Seaxna.


    Indeed, Godefroy even had the backing of the Burgende and their great kingdom, for he had been married to Cecile de Bourgogne, which is to mean Cecile of Burgundy, and she was the daughter of Hugues de Bourgogne, who was known as King of Bourgogne and of Italia and of Arelat, and he had established a mighty empire which was able to defy even the Holy Roman Empire in war, and indeed had before, for it was from the Emperor that Hugues had taken his lands and his independence.


    It was thus that Godefroy was a name feared by Ealdred and his court, for many powerful men supported the claim of Godefroy, and even some who were Seaxna, for he had spent much of his life in the court of Ænglalond, and knew well it's lands and it's ways, and thus seemed a better option both to lords and to common men than Ealdred, for though Ealdred was a good man, he was a man of many personal desires, and he had much adopted the ways of the foreign court of Constantinople, and some even said he had adopted their religion, and the nasty tales of wagging tongues only served to make him more of a villain.


    Aelfhun knew all this very well, for even his Father, Deorwine, had proclaimed his support for Godefroy, and was indeed held as a key piece in the grand plan of Godefroy de Montbrai, for Deorwine was known in title as the Keeper of the Coast and the Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, and as such had a great and vast trading network, and also held control of a formidable fleet of ships. Deorwine was also known for his unnatural skill in cunning and shrewdness, which made him a great asset to any who would listen to his tales of mysterious dreams and talking spirits.


    Wilberht knew also of this plot, for he had hidden well the missing taxes of Deorwine for years, driven on by fear of Godefroy's great armies and also by his greed, for Deorwine gave much to his friends, and indeed Wilberht was given many of the missing taxes of Deorwine for his own treasuries, and had indeed built much of his house and influence upon Deorwine's wealth and foreknowledge, a thing he feared and envied.


    And so it was that Ænglalond was held tightly by intrigue, plotting, and the looming threat of a civil war, with Ealdred and Godefroy both determined to be Kings.


    "So, the King truly does fear the coming of Godefroy de Montbrai? Good." Aelfhun said.


    At this, Egelbert grimaced, for he was not convinced of the plight of Godefroy, and did not dwell oft in rumors, but rather relied upon what he saw firsthand. "Perhaps you speak too boldly, Aelfhun. You should not speak at all of these things while in the center of Ealdred's power, for Godefroy is not yet won, and may yet not win."


    Aelfhun frowned, for he could hear the doubt in Egelbert's words. "Why? Are there spies within your nephew's house?" he said, his eyes stern. He had become paranoid now of Egelbert, for already he did not like the man, and now he spoke with little confidence in a man with many thousands of others behind him.


    "Perhaps there are."


    Now the trust of Aelfhun was destroyed entirely, yet it did not show upon his face, as it had become blank and expressionless. It was then that Aelfhun, regretting his exchange with Egelbert almost in it's entirety, turned back to his quarters. As he did, he noticed again the heraldic device of the shield in the corner. He paused for a moment in contemplation, remembering his earlier dream, and many things began to make sense. "Is this the heraldry of Wilberht or of you?"


    "It is Wilberht's." answered Godelina, who had just amassed the bravery to emerge from her hidden corner. Her face was red with nervousness. She had already dressed and prepared, seeking to look as pretty as she could. She sought to soothe the palpable tension between Aelfhun and her grand uncle so as not to jeopardize what she thought was a soon to bud relationship, yet Egelbert gave her a glaring look.


    Aelfhun turned his head to look to the source of the new voice, and Godelina tried to put on her prettiest smile. Aelfhun, however, was unimpressed by her efforts, for though she was a kind hearted woman, he did not see her for that, and indeed he did not even know of her kind heart, and rather judged her upon her exterior, which was of much weight. He simply grunted in answer, for he was deep in thought, and he then returned to his room. Egelbert looked inquisitively as Godelina, having watched the exchange and seen well the signs. It was rare that Godelina emerged to speak with strangers, and often it meant only one thing, especially with one so handsome or close in age as Aelfhun.


    Egelbert grabbed his grand-niece's arm and shook his head. "Do not look upon him again with desire, for he is of close relation to you, young Godelina, and he may perhaps lose his head soon." he said in a hushed tone. Godelina sighed and nodded, and soon retreated again into another room.


    Aelfhun, standing in his room, opened the small chest of gold inside. His dream of the previous night weighed heavy upon his mind, for he had many of the same sort, and all had served as warnings. They were symbolic signs of the future, and he had learned to trust in them, so much so that they often drove his decisions. He was careful, of course, as he did not seek to fall into the trap of his Father, Deorwine, who had been driven mad by his desire for supernatural power, but he thought that even the natural signs pointed to a betrayal by the hands of Egelbert and perhaps those of Wilberht.


    When the funeral finally came about later in that day, most were quiet and solemn, as was mandated by the clergy present. As the corpse of the past King was carried to the church, it was surrounded by a grand assembly of men from all corners of Ænglalond which Ealdred was at the head of, leading his Father's war-horse forward towards the Church as was tradition. Though his coronation and marriage had been a quiet affair, he wanted all to publicly mourn his Father as he did, though he knew that many of their pities were lies.


    Among this great parade was also Egelbert, Wilberht, Eanwin, Godelina, and Aelfhun, as well as their companions and guards and servants. Wilberht was nearer to the head of the congregation near the King, and near him was also Deorwald, whom he held in respect, and Godfrith, whom he held contempt for. Also among the congregation stood Godefroy de Montbrai, and near him the many men of power who were associated with him, though some sought to distance from him so as to not so readily display their treachery.


    As the great parade left the confines of the city of Leowic, they followed the border of the river Tyne towards the Tinaemútha, for Leowic was constructed upon the site once known as Monkchester, and known in our history as Newcastle upon Tyne, and Tinaemútha was ideal for burial, being both no less than three hours away from Leowic's gates and also being the burial place of many ancient Kings of Deiraríce (Diera) and Norðhymbralond (Northumbria).


    Though the crowd had been almost completely silent within the confines of Leowic, the sound of murmurings slowly rose during their riverside march, though never higher than the running of an armored man. Godefroy de Montbrai was one of the murmurers, as though a companion of his named as Eudes advised him to stay to the edge of the crowd, nearly touching the water of the Tinae, so as to not risk a blade, Godefroy was intent on moving among the crowd and it's higher members, and quietly speaking with his supporters who were willing to speak with him so openly.


    After arriving finally in Tinaemútha, Thored's body was set within the Tinaemútha priory, alongside the likes of Saint Oswine and Osred the Second. After only a few hours, another long walk was made back along the borders of the Tinae, this time to Leowic. After entering the city, the people began to disperse back to their homes, having spent nearly all of the day's daylight burying the King. After this, Wilberht was allowed to return to his home and speak with his guest. When Aelfhun questioned Wilberht during their return, the Hordere simply hushed him, and said they would only speak of matters of plotting and politics when inside the confines of Wilberht's residence.


    And so they did, as when Wilberht and Aelfhun and the rest of the group who was of their relation or companionship returned to the residence, Wilberht began to speak frantically and worriedly.


    "I assume you know of Godefroy's planned spectacle? If he goes through with it, it may result, to state my opinion simply, in his death. We need to be prepared for such an outcome, but no such plans have been made by Godefroy nor his loyalists that I know of, and for this reason I fear the end of our plotting to be brought about by our own brashness and boldness." Wilberht said, having barely removed his outer layers of heavy clothing.


    Aelfhun took a moment before he spoke, removing his outer layers and taking a seat, and contemplating the words of Wilberht seriously. He gestured to a seat for Wilberht, who grinded his teeth, feeling as though he did not have control in his own home, and in spite he took a seat separate from the one Aelfhun had pointed to. It was a petty moment, but Wilberht did not look upon it as such.


    As Wilberht sat and settled, Aelfhun began to speak. "Of the event you reference, I know little, unless you mean to suggest that Godefroy's departing from the city is a lethal threat."


    "Ealdred the Grécisc is to host a meeting within his castle walls with Godefroy de Montbrai before the month has ended, a meeting to which Godefroy has agreed, and readily. I do not believe he has considered the great dangers which might come about, for Godefroy is known as a threat to the Pretender King, and thus I fear Ealdred might betray his oath and have Godefroy imprisoned or worse might kill him by his own hand." Wilberht explained.


    Again, there was a lengthy moment of silence before Aelfhun spoke. In this moment, Egelbert came and seated himself beside Wilberht, but did not speak, for he had heard the conversation of the two in it's beginning. "Do you truly fear Ealdred to be such a villain? I do not think he would break such an oath."


    "Would you not kill Godefroy, or at least attempt to imprison him, were you Ealdred? Even if you wouldn't, consider that Ealdred is both a bastard and a seeker of personal desires. He is also not a man of the Pope, but rather, as the rumors tell it, he is of that vile eastern church. I would not put much past the Grécisc."


    Aelfhun shook his head and sighed. "Your basis is rumors. I agree he is not of rightful lineage to the throne, and that he is not an able ruler, but I do not think him to be some villain of legend."


    "Will you not listen to good reason?", spoke up Egelbert, "Ealdred left Ænglalond to pursue his own personal desires. He left his realm, his people, rebelling against the wishes of even his Father. He has achieved status, fame, wealth as a killer...a mercenary in a foreign empire. Ealdred is a vain, self absorbed, impetuous man. Yes, he is a villain Aelfhun, and we should treat him as such and fear him as such."


    "Yet his oath was to God, Egelbert, there is no reason other than common rumor which I fear you have given into to suspect he might have turned against the teachings of the Pope. Besides, if something should happen to Godefroy, his many sons still remain to continue his lineage, and with them the support that was given to Godefroy, and perhaps even more, for his death would show Europe that Ealdred is the villain you fear him to be. For now, however, I believe that a meeting protected by oaths to God is a secure one. We should turn our attention away from that, and to the forming of allies and war plans."


    "Fine. I suppose you are right in some capacity." Wilberht said, his voice not expressing the agreement his words did, even as minced as they were. Egelbert simply nodded, sat for a moment, and then offered an excuse for himself and left the room. Aelfhun was somewhat glad at Egelbert's parting, for he had come, even if only in thought and hushed talk with his companions, to associate the phrase Warriorfool with Egelbert.


    As the evening continued on nothing was eaten, for a fasting period of three days had been mandated after the funeral and upon it's day, taken after the tradition of Willelm the Bastard, of whom it was said took a fasting period of three days to contemplate the war that had taken place in his name in honor of the fallen Kings of 1065 and 1066. Thored had maintained the tradition, having had three days of fasting after the funeral of Willelm, and now Ealdred continued it.


    When finally the group went to their beds and slept, Aelfhun again dreamed of storms and birds, but this time his dream was somewhat different in it's events, or perhaps just clearer. In this dream, the birds seized a ship after beating the storm, and they gave it unto a lion of black fur and a blue mane, and the lion then released a great roar, and from his roar came breath ignited like a great flame which burned the ship and the birds, and the fire began to spread and spread until a black clowd of ash and soot blurred all from vision.

  20. #140
    Alwyn's Avatar Frothy Goodness
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    Default Re: Historia Quod Britonum

    I'm enjoying the intrigue, with the tension between Ealdred and Godefroy - and the rumours about Ealred's character. I'm also feeling bad for kind-hearted Godelina!

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