Congrats on the job. al-Quratij doesn't mean anything. I arabized Croat into Kuh-rah-tij.
Homelands: Tales of the Anglo-Prussians
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Congrats on the job. al-Quratij doesn't mean anything. I arabized Croat into Kuh-rah-tij.
Thanks, but it is just a summer job.
Regardless of self-reference, "Edessan" is popular amongst Continental Europeans because that was the Kingdom set up by the Croats during the Crusades.
Homelands
Chapter Thirty One: The Snowy North
Part 1
Prelude:
King Ailu became the last reigning medieval King of Mordvia when in 1297 he submitted to the rule of Prussia and became Grand Duke of Mordvia. There were many reasons for this. First was a increasing closeness between Prussia and Mordvia after the latter's conversion. Second was increasing pressure on Mordvia's southern border from the Cumans and other Turkic peoples. Though unknown at the time, this was a sign for the times to come. The Mongol Empire was reaching its zenith, displacing thousands of people fleeing conversion and persecution. Later, its splinter states would greatly change the shape Europe and the Near East. So Mordvia's joining of the Empire could be seen as a move for protection. But it was also a move for stability. The Wolgast dynasty was not a popular one. It was only supported in the north by the Pihkovians, Mords who had settled in formerly Russian regions. The Mords in the middle and the Narvans in the south were unhappy with an uppity new comer taking the throne. But Grand Duke Ailu hoped to secure his own succession with Prussian support. Kiten would be unwilling to deal with a civil war in the region and would quickly come to his aid. His plan worked, as history has proven. The Wolgast dynasty would last until the break-up of the Grand Duchy, and even then the main branch ruled alongside two cadet branches and together they would rule all three parts until 1493 with the death of David II.
The Prussian Empire in 1297. Mordvia is show in light red and is part of the Kingdom of Prussia.
December 8th, 1297
Boredom gripped Vishly's mind and soul like a bear does a slippery fish. The boy, now almost a young man, had turned his fancy to the womenfolk. However, he couldn't help but think that their attempts to flatter him were out of the selfish need to pair up with one better than your own status. Of course, for him, there was no such woman alive anywhere on the face of the planet. He was doomed, as he put it, to have to find someone he actually liked. A rare feat to say the least. Vishly was kind, and collected and friendly amongst people but within raged a fire. Nomedas had trained him well, the only thing he couldn't do was make Vishly as visually appeasing as himself. So Vishly compensated, unconsciously, by being even more cunning and forked-tongued than his master.
"And you are?" Vishly asked kindly, taking the hand of his next partner. She was a round-faced girl, well blossomed and heavily painted. She showed major signs of wealth and status. She wore a signet ring made of silver and containing two jade stones from the war east.
"Naná, Duchess of Moshka, eldest daughter of the Grand Duke Ailu," she said, her voice was almost slightly condescending, but just barely maintained the required respect to speak to the Prince of Prussia.
"Was the journey long?" Vishly asked, his act was still strong.
"Probably no longer than the ride from Kiev, my lord."
"Ah, but I didn't arrive from Kiev. My father did. I've been in Mariengrád working with ambassadors from the Ján. Very interesting group of people, they are. However, it seems that their Empire may have reached its zenith."
"All very interesting, but we must switch partners." Naná yawned, irritating Vishly only a bit. He watched her walk off, but she was quickly replaced by another, equally painted, Princess.
"I have heard the same thing," she said, taking Vishly's hand and mind. "The Ján expanded quickly and recklessly. There was no tact to it." Vishly laughed, slightly and smiled.
"Ah yes, miss Ziedás áv Kærjá, how could I ever forget you?" Vishly asked. His smile did not fade from his face, it only changed. He had met her before, she was strange to him and he couldn't quite pin it down. She, like him, was not the prettiest of her bunch, but attractive none-the-less. She wasn't as beautiful or powerful as Naná and she hung around him during all of these parties.
"I don't know why you run from me all the time. My family might not control as much land as the Wolgasts, but we are richer and more powerful than those bloody pagans can ever hope to be. My ancestors came over with your ancestors, strong Prussian blood!" She laughed.
Vishly sighed, "Shall I ever be rid of your advances?"
"Not until I can have them returned, plus I know later tonight you will grow bored of being ignored or told lies from your other suitors about how interesting they find your discussions with the Ján ambassador and you will crawl back to me for stimulating conversation." Ziedás spun away to her next partner before Vishly could respond, leaving him slack-jawed and ready to provide an argument as his next partner came up to him.
"Women," Vishly muttered. He took his next partner in his arms and slowly danced. He was glad to know she was only partially correct. He already was bored, not growing bored. This new girl smiled at him and tried to strike up banter. Vishly listen but Ziedás's words still bugged him. "What do you think of the Ján's current situation?" he asked, probing his partner's mind.
"It is very good, I think they made the right choices in their actions last month."
"You have no idea what you are talking about, do you?" Vishly asked.
"The Ján are that really big place in the East. I heard they got bigger. Bigger is better," she replied. It took Vishly most of his strength not to sigh and shake his head. He finished the dancing portion of the night and then began to mingle with the crowds, finding that there were, in fact, others interested in the Ján's choice to invade the Turkish states on the border of Persia. It is just that they were all men and man years old than himself. They had little interest in the opinions of a little boy, so he left their company.
He found his father with a different group of people idly conversing about the expansion of the Empire into the wilds of the steppe. Kiten seemed unsure, but Vishly could tell he was being pressured by the nobles who were obviously just looking for land. He knew his father could not speak ill to them, so he would do it for him, "It is a bad idea," Vishly said.
"What?" The nobles turned to face him.
"You heard me. Expanding into the steppe is a bad idea, a stupid one. It would take too much time and too much money and unless you are planning to pay for it I wouldn't suggest it," Vishly looked at his father who smiled and nodded, a simple thanks.
"And what does the little Prince know about such things? Why don't you run along and play with wooden sticks?"'
"I spent much time with the ambassador of the Ján, speaking with him about his troubles with the Turks. The same Turks that are obviously no problem to you, despite their constant defiance of our attempts to settle them."
"I am forced to agree with my son on this one," Kiten said, "He is right, and I too have spoken with ambassadors and Princes from Persia and from the Ján. They are both having trouble with the Turks. You'd be wise to see the signs and not worry about expanding East just yet." Kiten placed a hand on Vishly's shoulder and pulled the boy to stand next to him where he too could be part of the conversation.
Chapter Thirty One: The Snowy North
Part 1
Prelude:
King Ailu became the last reigning medieval King of Mordvia when in 1297 he submitted to the rule of Prussia and became Grand Duke of Mordvia. There were many reasons for this. First was a increasing closeness between Prussia and Mordvia after the latter's conversion. Second was increasing pressure on Mordvia's southern border from the Cumans and other Turkic peoples. Though unknown at the time, this was a sign for the times to come. The Mongol Empire was reaching its zenith, displacing thousands of people fleeing conversion and persecution. Later, its splinter states would greatly change the shape Europe and the Near East. So Mordvia's joining of the Empire could be seen as a move for protection. But it was also a move for stability. The Wolgast dynasty was not a popular one. It was only supported in the north by the Pihkovians, Mords who had settled in formerly Russian regions. The Mords in the middle and the Narvans in the south were unhappy with an uppity new comer taking the throne. But Grand Duke Ailu hoped to secure his own succession with Prussian support. Kiten would be unwilling to deal with a civil war in the region and would quickly come to his aid. His plan worked, as history has proven. The Wolgast dynasty would last until the break-up of the Grand Duchy, and even then the main branch ruled alongside two cadet branches and together they would rule all three parts until 1493 with the death of David II.
The Prussian Empire in 1297. Mordvia is show in light red and is part of the Kingdom of Prussia.
December 8th, 1297
Boredom gripped Vishly's mind and soul like a bear does a slippery fish. The boy, now almost a young man, had turned his fancy to the womenfolk. However, he couldn't help but think that their attempts to flatter him were out of the selfish need to pair up with one better than your own status. Of course, for him, there was no such woman alive anywhere on the face of the planet. He was doomed, as he put it, to have to find someone he actually liked. A rare feat to say the least. Vishly was kind, and collected and friendly amongst people but within raged a fire. Nomedas had trained him well, the only thing he couldn't do was make Vishly as visually appeasing as himself. So Vishly compensated, unconsciously, by being even more cunning and forked-tongued than his master.
"And you are?" Vishly asked kindly, taking the hand of his next partner. She was a round-faced girl, well blossomed and heavily painted. She showed major signs of wealth and status. She wore a signet ring made of silver and containing two jade stones from the war east.
"Naná, Duchess of Moshka, eldest daughter of the Grand Duke Ailu," she said, her voice was almost slightly condescending, but just barely maintained the required respect to speak to the Prince of Prussia.
"Was the journey long?" Vishly asked, his act was still strong.
"Probably no longer than the ride from Kiev, my lord."
"Ah, but I didn't arrive from Kiev. My father did. I've been in Mariengrád working with ambassadors from the Ján. Very interesting group of people, they are. However, it seems that their Empire may have reached its zenith."
"All very interesting, but we must switch partners." Naná yawned, irritating Vishly only a bit. He watched her walk off, but she was quickly replaced by another, equally painted, Princess.
"I have heard the same thing," she said, taking Vishly's hand and mind. "The Ján expanded quickly and recklessly. There was no tact to it." Vishly laughed, slightly and smiled.
"Ah yes, miss Ziedás áv Kærjá, how could I ever forget you?" Vishly asked. His smile did not fade from his face, it only changed. He had met her before, she was strange to him and he couldn't quite pin it down. She, like him, was not the prettiest of her bunch, but attractive none-the-less. She wasn't as beautiful or powerful as Naná and she hung around him during all of these parties.
"I don't know why you run from me all the time. My family might not control as much land as the Wolgasts, but we are richer and more powerful than those bloody pagans can ever hope to be. My ancestors came over with your ancestors, strong Prussian blood!" She laughed.
Vishly sighed, "Shall I ever be rid of your advances?"
"Not until I can have them returned, plus I know later tonight you will grow bored of being ignored or told lies from your other suitors about how interesting they find your discussions with the Ján ambassador and you will crawl back to me for stimulating conversation." Ziedás spun away to her next partner before Vishly could respond, leaving him slack-jawed and ready to provide an argument as his next partner came up to him.
"Women," Vishly muttered. He took his next partner in his arms and slowly danced. He was glad to know she was only partially correct. He already was bored, not growing bored. This new girl smiled at him and tried to strike up banter. Vishly listen but Ziedás's words still bugged him. "What do you think of the Ján's current situation?" he asked, probing his partner's mind.
"It is very good, I think they made the right choices in their actions last month."
"You have no idea what you are talking about, do you?" Vishly asked.
"The Ján are that really big place in the East. I heard they got bigger. Bigger is better," she replied. It took Vishly most of his strength not to sigh and shake his head. He finished the dancing portion of the night and then began to mingle with the crowds, finding that there were, in fact, others interested in the Ján's choice to invade the Turkish states on the border of Persia. It is just that they were all men and man years old than himself. They had little interest in the opinions of a little boy, so he left their company.
He found his father with a different group of people idly conversing about the expansion of the Empire into the wilds of the steppe. Kiten seemed unsure, but Vishly could tell he was being pressured by the nobles who were obviously just looking for land. He knew his father could not speak ill to them, so he would do it for him, "It is a bad idea," Vishly said.
"What?" The nobles turned to face him.
"You heard me. Expanding into the steppe is a bad idea, a stupid one. It would take too much time and too much money and unless you are planning to pay for it I wouldn't suggest it," Vishly looked at his father who smiled and nodded, a simple thanks.
"And what does the little Prince know about such things? Why don't you run along and play with wooden sticks?"'
"I spent much time with the ambassador of the Ján, speaking with him about his troubles with the Turks. The same Turks that are obviously no problem to you, despite their constant defiance of our attempts to settle them."
"I am forced to agree with my son on this one," Kiten said, "He is right, and I too have spoken with ambassadors and Princes from Persia and from the Ján. They are both having trouble with the Turks. You'd be wise to see the signs and not worry about expanding East just yet." Kiten placed a hand on Vishly's shoulder and pulled the boy to stand next to him where he too could be part of the conversation.
It's only after a map like that, that you realise how big Prussia is. Holy Jeebus...Vishly has met his match, huh? Hopefully, he won't burn her alive after some minor disagreement.
Hmm, Vishly is not a bad bachelor.
But medieval balls?
Dancing?
Hands touching?
Is that not a bit too much, eh, un-pious?
They should behave properly, such a close contact may lead to scary things. :wacko:o
But medieval balls?
Dancing?
Hands touching?
Is that not a bit too much, eh, un-pious?
They should behave properly, such a close contact may lead to scary things. :wacko:
o
Hopefully.
Vishly has met his match, huh? Hopefully, he won't burn her alive after some minor disagreement.
Engineer, not historian.Hmm, Vishly is not a bad bachelor.
But medieval balls?
Dancing?
Hands touching?
Is that not a bit too much, eh, un-pious?
They should behave properly, such a close contact may lead to scary things. :wacko:
Suspension of disbelief and all that jazz.
You are a scary person.
What did you think, the medieval nobility just kept partying every night from the fall of Western Rome until Luther came to knock on the door.o
And then a new party begun?
You mean that every noble in the court of king and king of courts is a indulgent heretic?
You have damned them all into eternal damnation!
A evil man you be!
Prussian court is 19th century English upper class party?
What did you think, the medieval nobility just kept partying every night from the fall of Western Rome until Luther came to knock on the door.
oAnd then a new party begun?
You mean that every noble in the court of king and king of courts is a indulgent heretic?
You have damned them all into eternal damnation!
A evil man you be!
Prussian court is 19th century English upper class party?
You are a scary person.
What did you think, the medieval nobility just kept partying every night from the fall of Western Rome until Luther came to knock on the door.
And then a new party begun?
You mean that every noble in the court of king and king of courts is a indulgent heretic?
You have damned them all into eternal damnation!
A evil man you be!
Prussian court is 19th century English upper class party?
Take it as you will.
o
Take it as you will.
Don't worry. It's good as it is.
And if it was historical we would probably be asleep after the second line of dialog.
Vishly is officially my favorite av Hwike. Of all time. What Saxon dynasty is Ziedas av Kaerja from?
The áv Kærjás are from Kærjá (Courland). Her full name is Ziedás Limmekinustog shev Godwinæs áv Kærjá, which should give you an idea of her ancestory without completely ruining the next update.
Homelands
Chapter Thirty One: The Snowy North
Part 2
Prelude:
Duke Lammekinus Arassun shev Godwinæs áv Kærjá ruled one of the largest duchies in the Empire from the city of Jelgava. He was both Duke of Courland (Prussian: kærjá) and Duke of Livonia (Pr: livonijá), two of the oldest titles in the Empire and two of the most respected. His family had ruled both titles since the mid XII Century, when the Dukes of Livonia died out and their titles were given to the Dukes of Courland through marriage. Unlike many feudal Dukes, the Dukes of Courland-Livonia did not give out much of their land in fiefs, instead they controlled much of it themselves. They were descended, through proper blood, from Harold Godwinson, the last Saxon King of England. After Prussia became a Duchy, Aethelweard invited many Saxon nobles to take refuge in Prussia, the sons of Harold were amongst the first invited and the first to accept. Despite the promise of riches in the new lands, many Saxon nobles had declined the offer; instead choosing to flee into neighboring Kingdoms to await a chance to regain the throne, or joined the ranks of the Anglo-Normans. Harold's sons through Aldith, Harold and Ulf, eventually made their way from England to Denmark and from Denmark to Prussia. Harold was made Count (Pr: laof) of Zemgale (Pr: zæmgal) in 1106 and Ulf Count of Selija (Pr: selijá) in 1108. Ulf died shortly after in 1109 and Harold gained his lands. In 1111 King Aethelweard crowned Harold Duke (Pr: hærkog) of Courland, a title held by his descendents.
The lands of Lammekinus áv Kærjá.
May 4th, 1299
Ziedás sat at her desk reading a letter that had been sent to her specifically from the King. She was one of few women in Jelgava that could read, a result of her work with the nobles in and around her father's court. He hopes, though, were slightly dashed. The letter marked that it was about a wedding, but when it wasn't her own, she found it hard to go on. Kiten's youngest daughter was to be wed to King Håkon of Norway. People of the Royal family were invited to join in a send-off in June, bidding her luck on her journey and in her new life across the Baltic Sea. She put the letter down without so much as finishing it, she knew what the King was proposing, but she didn't like it, it felt too easy.
"Æs bin ad thum lepns in," Ziedás turned and saw her mother, smiling kindly. She hugged her daughter tightly, a tear slipping down her face as the two looked into each other's eyes.
"Mátæ, I am confused. It feels hollow. I should be happy, but I am not," Ziedás said. Her mother's face scrunched to one side, she didn't know what to say. "Vishly is nearly a man, and his father is interested in seeing his son wed. I want to be with Vishly, but..."
"Ah, silence childe! You are lucky. Love is fleeting, and it is fragile. But it is also weak. You cannot marry for love, you must think of your father and yourself. Few are so lucky to be wed to the one they want to be with." This was not the answer Ziedás wanted. Her eyes welled over and she sobbed, running to her desk and burying her head in her arms.
The Duke walked into the room and upon seeing his daughter distraught and his wife pacing, he asked his wife, "What news could be so terrible as to do this?" he asked.
"Lord Kiten has requested our daughter join his son at the sending away. He has all but suggested that the two be wed."
Limmekinus's face turned from a frown to a glowing smile, "This is a great day! Why are we all grey and fretting? Our daughter has been given a great opportunity! What is wrong?" He asked, turning from woman to woman looking for some response.
"Your daughter is worried that is all, she shall come together soon and we shall send her off in time for her to arrive and be received as the Prince's guest of honor," the Duchess said. She placed a hand on her husband's shoulder and he nodded quickly.
"Amazing! This is such an honor! I am so proud of you, Ziedás!"
His daughter picked her head up and tried to smile, "I am happy, too father. It is just such a shock to come out of nowhere. I promise I will represent you well in Memelgrád."
"I know you will. I have great faith in you." He walked over and kissed her forehead before leaving.
Mother and daughter shared one more glance as Ziedás nodded, "You are right mother, I should be happy... and I am."
May 10th, 1299
Vishly sat waiting in the palace. He was nervous and paced back and forth as Oleksander watched. His elder brother did not have a guest with him. Actually many things confused Vishly about his brother. His hair was blonde, despite the dark curly hair of the royal family, he was older but didn't get the same education as him. So many things and it forced pity into Vishly's heart. He didn't understand it, but he didn't question it. One day he would have to, he thought, but that day was not today. It had taken a while to convince his father to let him invite Ziedás to the send away, and Kiten was still completely clueless of his son's ability to forge his signature. But the King was generally happy with Vishly's choice of partner so he let his son be. There was the sound of approaching carriages so Vishly ran to a well-thought out position in the room. But when the door opened it was not Ziedás and her entourage, it was Nomedas. He looked at Vishly, "Your guest has arrived," he said. Vishly picked up that his voice was full of conflicting emotion.
"Thank you, Nomedas," Vishly said. His voice remained calm and flat, but soon his cousin would be moved out of the picture. They were competing now for the same job. Vishly knew he had what it took to keep the Empire safe, Nomedas did not anymore. He was getting old and Vishly was getting ambitious. Vishly stepped outside into the sun light, a rare sight in Memelgrád during spring. Ziedás was helped down from her carriage by her servants. The young Prince went forth to meet them. "Welcome," he said, "back to Memelgrád."
"Thank you, my lord," Ziedás said. With her feet on solid ground, Vishly led her back into the palace. "Your father's letter made it seem that the festivities would have already begun by now? Has something gone wrong?" Vishly reflected on every word in his letter and realized he had miswrote the date. Ziedás stopped and looked at him as he hid his panic under a cool face.
"O? He must have made an error. Things have been planned for the eleventh for quite some time. My father grows old, these errors must be expected. I bet if you mentioned the letter he wouldn't even remember it!" Vishly laughed.
"Really? I am sorry to hear that your father is in such a condition."
"It is nothing, really. Forgetful, yes... but any less energetic he is not." Vishly smiled to show his good intentions. From behind Ziedás Nomedas scowled at his protégé. Vishly locked eyes with him and for a brief second he could see confusion and fear in the master's eyes. But it was over in a second as Vishly continued walking with Ziedás to the throne room where his father sat waiting for both of them.
Nomedas's face moved about as his different reactions fought in his head. But when he realized that the bastard was watching he turned around and headed up the stairs, his cape swishing as he did. The dark corners were already seeming darker, the curtains more suspicious. In his room he saw a small parcel on his desk. It was marked like any other of the gifts for the guests of the seeing off. He undid the bow and saw a few small cakes and a bottle in it. He opened the bottle and sniffed it. Nothing. He took a drink. Nothing. He shrugged and finished the bottle. Nothing. "Just being paranoid," he tried to convince himself. He sat down opened his shades. Outside in the inner courtyard the King toured with Vishly and Ziedás. Nomedas took one of the cakes and started eating it and watched. Vishly was lost. His heart had been won by another. Stupid boy, the spy master thought. Stupid, stupid boy.
Chapter Thirty One: The Snowy North
Part 2
Prelude:
Duke Lammekinus Arassun shev Godwinæs áv Kærjá ruled one of the largest duchies in the Empire from the city of Jelgava. He was both Duke of Courland (Prussian: kærjá) and Duke of Livonia (Pr: livonijá), two of the oldest titles in the Empire and two of the most respected. His family had ruled both titles since the mid XII Century, when the Dukes of Livonia died out and their titles were given to the Dukes of Courland through marriage. Unlike many feudal Dukes, the Dukes of Courland-Livonia did not give out much of their land in fiefs, instead they controlled much of it themselves. They were descended, through proper blood, from Harold Godwinson, the last Saxon King of England. After Prussia became a Duchy, Aethelweard invited many Saxon nobles to take refuge in Prussia, the sons of Harold were amongst the first invited and the first to accept. Despite the promise of riches in the new lands, many Saxon nobles had declined the offer; instead choosing to flee into neighboring Kingdoms to await a chance to regain the throne, or joined the ranks of the Anglo-Normans. Harold's sons through Aldith, Harold and Ulf, eventually made their way from England to Denmark and from Denmark to Prussia. Harold was made Count (Pr: laof) of Zemgale (Pr: zæmgal) in 1106 and Ulf Count of Selija (Pr: selijá) in 1108. Ulf died shortly after in 1109 and Harold gained his lands. In 1111 King Aethelweard crowned Harold Duke (Pr: hærkog) of Courland, a title held by his descendents.
The lands of Lammekinus áv Kærjá.
May 4th, 1299
Ziedás sat at her desk reading a letter that had been sent to her specifically from the King. She was one of few women in Jelgava that could read, a result of her work with the nobles in and around her father's court. He hopes, though, were slightly dashed. The letter marked that it was about a wedding, but when it wasn't her own, she found it hard to go on. Kiten's youngest daughter was to be wed to King Håkon of Norway. People of the Royal family were invited to join in a send-off in June, bidding her luck on her journey and in her new life across the Baltic Sea. She put the letter down without so much as finishing it, she knew what the King was proposing, but she didn't like it, it felt too easy.
"Æs bin ad thum lepns in," Ziedás turned and saw her mother, smiling kindly. She hugged her daughter tightly, a tear slipping down her face as the two looked into each other's eyes.
"Mátæ, I am confused. It feels hollow. I should be happy, but I am not," Ziedás said. Her mother's face scrunched to one side, she didn't know what to say. "Vishly is nearly a man, and his father is interested in seeing his son wed. I want to be with Vishly, but..."
"Ah, silence childe! You are lucky. Love is fleeting, and it is fragile. But it is also weak. You cannot marry for love, you must think of your father and yourself. Few are so lucky to be wed to the one they want to be with." This was not the answer Ziedás wanted. Her eyes welled over and she sobbed, running to her desk and burying her head in her arms.
The Duke walked into the room and upon seeing his daughter distraught and his wife pacing, he asked his wife, "What news could be so terrible as to do this?" he asked.
"Lord Kiten has requested our daughter join his son at the sending away. He has all but suggested that the two be wed."
Limmekinus's face turned from a frown to a glowing smile, "This is a great day! Why are we all grey and fretting? Our daughter has been given a great opportunity! What is wrong?" He asked, turning from woman to woman looking for some response.
"Your daughter is worried that is all, she shall come together soon and we shall send her off in time for her to arrive and be received as the Prince's guest of honor," the Duchess said. She placed a hand on her husband's shoulder and he nodded quickly.
"Amazing! This is such an honor! I am so proud of you, Ziedás!"
His daughter picked her head up and tried to smile, "I am happy, too father. It is just such a shock to come out of nowhere. I promise I will represent you well in Memelgrád."
"I know you will. I have great faith in you." He walked over and kissed her forehead before leaving.
Mother and daughter shared one more glance as Ziedás nodded, "You are right mother, I should be happy... and I am."
May 10th, 1299
Vishly sat waiting in the palace. He was nervous and paced back and forth as Oleksander watched. His elder brother did not have a guest with him. Actually many things confused Vishly about his brother. His hair was blonde, despite the dark curly hair of the royal family, he was older but didn't get the same education as him. So many things and it forced pity into Vishly's heart. He didn't understand it, but he didn't question it. One day he would have to, he thought, but that day was not today. It had taken a while to convince his father to let him invite Ziedás to the send away, and Kiten was still completely clueless of his son's ability to forge his signature. But the King was generally happy with Vishly's choice of partner so he let his son be. There was the sound of approaching carriages so Vishly ran to a well-thought out position in the room. But when the door opened it was not Ziedás and her entourage, it was Nomedas. He looked at Vishly, "Your guest has arrived," he said. Vishly picked up that his voice was full of conflicting emotion.
"Thank you, Nomedas," Vishly said. His voice remained calm and flat, but soon his cousin would be moved out of the picture. They were competing now for the same job. Vishly knew he had what it took to keep the Empire safe, Nomedas did not anymore. He was getting old and Vishly was getting ambitious. Vishly stepped outside into the sun light, a rare sight in Memelgrád during spring. Ziedás was helped down from her carriage by her servants. The young Prince went forth to meet them. "Welcome," he said, "back to Memelgrád."
"Thank you, my lord," Ziedás said. With her feet on solid ground, Vishly led her back into the palace. "Your father's letter made it seem that the festivities would have already begun by now? Has something gone wrong?" Vishly reflected on every word in his letter and realized he had miswrote the date. Ziedás stopped and looked at him as he hid his panic under a cool face.
"O? He must have made an error. Things have been planned for the eleventh for quite some time. My father grows old, these errors must be expected. I bet if you mentioned the letter he wouldn't even remember it!" Vishly laughed.
"Really? I am sorry to hear that your father is in such a condition."
"It is nothing, really. Forgetful, yes... but any less energetic he is not." Vishly smiled to show his good intentions. From behind Ziedás Nomedas scowled at his protégé. Vishly locked eyes with him and for a brief second he could see confusion and fear in the master's eyes. But it was over in a second as Vishly continued walking with Ziedás to the throne room where his father sat waiting for both of them.
Nomedas's face moved about as his different reactions fought in his head. But when he realized that the bastard was watching he turned around and headed up the stairs, his cape swishing as he did. The dark corners were already seeming darker, the curtains more suspicious. In his room he saw a small parcel on his desk. It was marked like any other of the gifts for the guests of the seeing off. He undid the bow and saw a few small cakes and a bottle in it. He opened the bottle and sniffed it. Nothing. He took a drink. Nothing. He shrugged and finished the bottle. Nothing. "Just being paranoid," he tried to convince himself. He sat down opened his shades. Outside in the inner courtyard the King toured with Vishly and Ziedás. Nomedas took one of the cakes and started eating it and watched. Vishly was lost. His heart had been won by another. Stupid boy, the spy master thought. Stupid, stupid boy.
So what kind of game is Vischly playing?
And how does Oleksander spend his time?
And how does Oleksander spend his time?