I enjoyed reading the first chapter, can't wait for update
Then wait no further.
I stayed up pretty late to finish this (D&D took more time than I expected...) so I hope you enjoy this!
Prologue – Part II
28th of January, 1088 Anno Domini
Søborg Castle, Hertugdømme of Sjælland
The Hvidesting began in good spirits late in the afternoon. First there had been a luxurious banquet, serving as an opportunity to clear the air and enjoy the company of friends and strangers alike. It had been long and the family's warm welcome had made everyone relaxed and calm for the coming politics. As the food dwindled and the party began to wind down, politics began. Harald noted to himself of something his uncle Skjalm had once said: “Never begin negotiations on an empty stomach.”
Old Magnus Ulfsen began the ceremonies in earnest, raising himself up with a mug of mead still in one hand. Clearing his throat, the elder moved into the centre of the large hall of Sjælland and waved his free arm for silence. “Lords and Ladies, let us begin tonight's affairs!” He bellowed. “As the Lagmand of the Hvidesting, I call for silence!”
The room quieted down as the old man took a sip of his mead. “As we all know, we are here to determine the future of the Hvide Clan, and of the vast realm of the late Auden Tokesen, may he find peace in the afterlife. The representatives of each land are present!”
With another sip, the old man's eyes roved across the room until they locked on that of young Harald Audensen. “It seems only natural that as the eldest son of Auden, Harald should be the man to take over the Hvide Clan, do any of his peers protest this decision?”
The Hvide were seated at the head of the hall, as hosts and the ruling clan of the assembly. Although the Hertug's chair was empty, Harald Audensen sat in a chair before it. To one side were his many brothers and cousins by Skjalm's blood. On the other were important retainers such as his bodyguard Sten and Hvide's Marshall, Harald Ribbing. His 'adopted' brother Ernst did not sit with them, but instead sat with the party of King Jens; it would be clear to the Ting where his loyalty lay.
Although family and friend alike were busy with affairs across the entire realm, every trusted member of Hvide, whether of direct bloodline, huskarl or advisor, had come to this important event.
Harald looked to his brothers and cousins. Most were still children, only Erik would have a real claim to the position, and he shook his head. “No, I do not, Magnus!” The youth called back. “Nor does my family, we support Harald fully and completely!”
“There is one Hvide who does not!” A thin voice called out.
Harald sighed the moment he heard it, bringing his hand up to his brow. So much for his good mood. “Of course, Ernst, you would be the one to cause trouble...” Harald muttered.
“Your Majesty? Is this boy...?”
“Yes, Lagmand.” Jens stood, pulling Ernst to his feet. “Ernst Pedersen, adopted son of the Hvide. He is technically Hvide's eldest son, and I present him as a worthy successor to the throne.”
Harald kept his face calm, but inside he was boiling. “Why do you present this weakling as a worthy successor to the Hvide, Jens? Ernst has always been a coward, a liar and a whelp. He has failed time and again at any endeavour he has undertaken!”
“Perhaps as a child, where you stifled his every move, yes. With my help Ernst has grown into a competent, powerful young man!” Jens glared. “He is a worthy Chief, I promise all of you that much!”
The King looked around to the assembled clans, the various leaders of Hvide's demesne. “You have a choice to make as much as the Hvide family does. Will you support Ernst or Harald? Will you support this snivelling boy who can't handle a bit of competition?”
“Snivelling?” Harald's eyebrow twitched, and he nearly lost his temper. “You speak words in my direction yet they paint a more accurate picture of that...that cowardly whelp! He is more suited to hiding behind a woman's skirt than ruling Hvide lands!”
Harald Audensen was an intelligent man, proud of his accomplishments and possessing a fiery temperament. His passion was not without benefits, but he found it hard to rein in his argumentative side.
Ernst stood and threw his mug angrily at the Hvide table, although his aim was terrible and it simply clattered off the far wall. “How dare you! Mother would not stand for this! Where is she, why is she not present! I know you did something to her!”
“ENOUGH!” Magnus bellowed, raising his hands. “Ernst, be seated at once!”
The various clans in attendance began to talk in low voices amongst themselves, it was clear they were attempting to judge the two. Harald kept his face calm and impassive and did not lose his temper, something he was thankful for. Instead, a thin smile appeared on his lips, as he recalled how attached to their mother Ernst had been. She had always favoured and pampered him, made everything easy on him while Harald worked daily for her approval. Now it seemed the tides had turned on him at long last.
“Not all of those present may be aware of this, but most are, I'm sure. Our mother, Gro, was found guilty of adultery by my father only a few years ago. She was banished to a monastery near Riga, to live out the rest of her days serving God and spreading the Christian faith to the Baltic territories. I have received several letters from her since...” Harald paused, and feigned curiosity. “Why, Ernst, didn't she write to tell you of this?”
Ernst's face visibly reddened and he began to mutter to himself. After a moment he began to speak. “You're lying, you're lying! They told me, you're lying!”
Jens stood and placed his hand on the youth, whispering something in his ear. Reluctantly, the two sat down again. “I apologize for my cousin's emotions, the news of his mother's...reputation...has not reached Odense recently. He will recover soon enough.”
There was another round of murmurs, and Harald tried to judge the response of the room. So far few people seemed impressed with Ernst, and that was good, but he also knew that Jens wouldn't have committed himself this far if he didn't have something up his sleeve. It was far too early for him to let his guard down.
One of the lesser jarls, Olaf af Skarsholm, stood and glowered at the Hvide for a moment. “One has to ask, Harald, how you have managed to earn the clear opposition of our King. While your deeds in Ingria are known to all, we have no proof of your abilities as a ruler, and if your appointment will destabilize the realm...well...”
Harald sighed, knowing it would come to this. “Olaf, I know you have your concerns. This is because of the decaying relations with the Piasts, is it not?”
“What else would it be, Harald?” He frowned deeply. “If you are to spend most of your time clashing with the Crown, how will I be able to ensure Scalovia's safety? How will the Bragde keep Zhmud out of enemy hands? We cannot afford for our new lands to simply be in complete servitude of Sjælland!”
“If it wasn't for my uncle, you wouldn't-” Harald began to stand, but he felt a firm hand grab his shoulder. He looked and saw Erik, who shook his head slowly.
Sighing, Harald sat again. “Your concerns are noted, Olaf, and I understand. However, I have no intention of being dragged into a clash with Jens – we are like brothers, although he does not see me fit to lead Hvide it seems. I suspect this comes more out of fear of us than misgivings about my abilities. I hope you will come to see reason.”
Jarl Karl af Aalborg was next to rise. “Jylland does wish to raise the issue that Harald defeated our former ruler competently in battle, and defeated a long-term feud. Jylland suffered under Prince Olaf's reign, while Sjælland flourished under Skjalm's and Auden's. We feel our support is better placed in Harald, the man who beat the Knýtlings.”
“And us!” The jarls of Sjælland called out. “If Harald is anything like his father, we have no cause to fear his ascension! He's proven his right to call himself Hertug in our eyes!”
“What of us?” A heavily accented voice called out. “What of your old allies, would you have us sit here and wait?”
Auctune von Marienburg was the rightful successor to Hochmeister Johann, but he had been deposed and betrayed. The Teutonic Order had since been little more than puppets of the Salian Dynasty.
Harald had expected a call from the Teutonic delegation. Auden had failed to reclaim the Order's lands near Trusø and Auctune was growing impatient. The coup that had displaced his position as Hochmeister was seen as a gross injustice to the German's honour, and the few Knights loyal to him had taken up refuge in the friendly court of Skjalm Tokesen. Auctune had pledged to put the Teutons at Hvide's beck and call, if they could just help put them back in power.
“You still have my uncle's pledge of support, Hochmeister. I am bound by blood to carry out his will, and I guarantee you, we will reclaim the Teutonic Order's rightful land.” Harald stood. “I will lead the expedition to take Fort Marienburg myself, once the matters of the Hvidesting are settled.”
Jens stood again. “I will not support any hostile action against the Germans by this man, I could only agree to lend the armies of Denmark to the attack if Ernst Pedersen ruled the land, not Harald Audensen. You want to give one man too much power!”
There were murmurs of consensus through the room. Another man, this one a Sjælland jarl, stood too. “Aye, too much land is offered to Harald's Hvide, you would rule Jylland, Sjælland and most of the Baltic? All our lands may suffer at such an arrangement.”
“Any of your lands will suffer if you put the craven buffoon in charge!” Harald shouted, unable to take any more. “Ernst Pedersen is not half the man he appears to be, and by all appearances he is a rat and a weasel. Placing him in charge of Hvide's armies would be like asking a worm to do battle with a bird – a pointless effort.”
“Sit down!” Magnus shouted, trying to restore order.
Ernst stood next. “You sling mud but you're the craven one, Harald! You're a coward and you always have been, running around, making trouble, making excuses!”
“If you want a coward I'll show you one!” Harald started to climb up onto the table.
“STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!” A voice yelled over the rest. The noise of the room fell momentarily silent, and Harald turned to look at his brother Erik.
The young man's lip seemed to be quivering slightly, but he was remaining calm nonetheless. “We are northmen, proud and strong, but we are not barbarians! Everyone's temper is getting the better of them, and I would propose we break the Ting for the evening, then return to discuss this further. It is clear there is discontent and it is better for all of us to think this over carefully, lest we make decisions we will regret.”
Due partly to his long journey abroad, Harald had not realized the man his brother had grown into. Erik was not possessed of Harald's stature or boundless talents, but he made up for that with a silver tongue and a keen interest in politics and diplomacy.
Old Magnus seemed to nod appreciatively. “Aye, I'm in agreement. We shall return to the Ting tomorrow, and hopefully can make our final decisions.”
Harald's eyes never left Ernst, and vice versa, even as the Ting began to break apart. Finally, after a long moment, Ernst looked away, and slunk back to the safety of Jens. Jens glared at Harald, and Harald back, before the King turned and departed the Hall. Harald finally sat and began to rub at his brow again; the thought of that duplicitous, dishonest, two-faced bastard taking control of his family was unforgivable, an insult to his honour he could not accept.
“Brother?”
Harald looked up at Erik, who was frowning deeply. “I think we need to have a talk about your approach to this whole thing.”
“Erik, I'm very tired, but thank you fo-”
Erik's hand grabbed his wrist even as Harald reached for his mead. “I'm not joking, Harald. This is important.”
Harald stared at his brother for a moment, then reached forward with his other hand and took the Mead. “Very well then Erik, let's talk...”