//------------------------------// // 118 - The Northmen's Dilemma // Story: Age of Kings // by A bag of plums //------------------------------// Emerald watched as Posey whispered instructions to Gabriel in the bird-tongue of hers. The eagle seemed to understand and jerked his head in a series of nods. The three of them were standing on the rooftop of Castle Sleipnir, giving them a good view of the city. It was evening and lights were coming on in many buildings and on the streets, marching around like ants as the guards who bore them did their rounds. “Do you remember the way to Prance, dear Gabriel?” Posey asked one more time. Gabriel screeched and took off into the sky, quickly becoming hidden in the lightly falling snow. Posey and Emerald watched for a few moments more, then went back inside the palace via a ladder. Owlice sat on Posey’s shoulder, bobbing up and down with her walking motion. “With luck, he’ll be back in about two or three days,” Posey told Emerald. The warmth inside the castle was a welcome feeling after standing on the cold roof. “And then we will have a better handle on what is going on outside the Frozen North.” “That too,” Emerald agreed. “What shall we do now?” “I’m sure Sombra has something in mind,” Posey shrugged. “He and King Magnus have been talking about what to do with the other holds. I’m sure with your reputation, Emerald, you would have a key part in their plan.” “Alright,” Emerald nodded. “I’ll go see what they’ve got.” She bade Posey farewell and walked towards the main hall, snagging a handful of those red berries on the way. Jewel Pin was seated there, having gone out and retrieved her pack with the gold and treasure in it. The seamstress was chatting amiably with one of the castle’s serving staff, eagerly swapping stories about cloth and fabrics as she patched up a hole in one of the group’s cloaks. Emerald smiled at the sight before making a turn for the war room that was off to the left of the main hall. Here there was a spacious area that was mostly taken up with a table with maps on it. Adorning the walls were banners of the various holds, and there were torches and rushlights keeping the space well lit, as well as several thick glass windows. High King Magnus and King Sombra were gathered around the map table with a handful of other Northmen, who at the moment seemed to be talking in low voices and gesturing at the banners and the table. There was a strong smell of wax and honey in the room. “Ah, Emerald,” Sombra said, looking up with a smile to greet the former pegasus as she walked in. “It is good to see you; High King Magnus and I were just discussing what should be done about the remaining amount of Unified soldiers who might be creeping around the kingdom.” “The hero of the Battle for Nidaroats!” Stronghorn cheered, as did the other vikings. “Welcome to the planning session, Raven Knight. Your deeds during the fight are now being recorded in history by our finest bards and skalds.” “Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior’s heart!” One of Stronghorn’s friends sang enthusiastically. “I tell you, I tell you the Raven Knight comes!” “Yes, yes. Very well done, Emerald Edge,” High King Magnus Rein said, holding up his hand for quiet. “You have proven yourself a friend of the Frozen North and a true ally. Let nobody question that.” “Thank you, High King,” Emerald said graciously. “I only wanted to leave an impression of what Canterlotians are truly like, not that mockery of honor that Morn Dread has set himself up as.” “Well spoken,” Sombra grinned. “You left an excellent impression on me, to say the least. Now, what were we getting at, High King Magnus?” Magnus returned his attention to the table, where there were small wooden carved figures. Emerald noticed with faint amusement that this setup was the same as she had seen in other places. It seemed that tabletop strategists were quite similar no matter where she went. Magnus pointed to each of the holds in turn, then at a spot with a little red flag on it. “Your friend, the knight, has gathered his Unified at this place, Fort Moongard,” King Magnus began, placing his hands on the table to steady himself. Emerald guessed he still wasn’t at his best. “The enemy knows well, the ways of war. Fort Moongard is at the end of Jarl Aktaumr the Little’s hold of Blackwalk, and its defensive position is roughly impenetrable.” “Aye,” Stronghorn added. “T’would be madness to try and rush it. Sneaking is just as difficult, given the fort’s elevated position.” “They would see us coming from miles away,” Rake continued and stroked his beard. “Mountainous regions don’t provide much cover.” “And after our last battle with the enemy…” Magnus waved a hand around at most of the vikings in the room. “There aren’t many of us left in this hold. Without the unity of the other holds and without my beloved Hel, that which proves my rule over the Frozen North, they will not come.” Emerald planted a fist on the table. “We have to try. Morn cannot have the Frozen North. Do you not want to do everything in your power to save your home?” “Aye, our messengers have yet to return from their expedition to the other holds.” Rake drew his finger across the map from Nidaroats to the various holds. “We hope for good news, but as High King Magnus has said, without Hel, I would not be surprised should they refuse the call of their king.” “It is indeed a thorny problem,” Sombra agreed. “But do not lament the loss of Hel overmuch. Without its destruction, we may not even have been able to win the previous battle.” Magnus shook his head. He was clearly in grief with the destruction of his famed weapon and Emerald too was disappointed in the weapon’s destruction. It had been a surprise to discover the existed of yet another of Star Swirl’s artifacts, and she has thought she would be able to cut their journey short, but alas, it was not to be. “There is nothing more we can do now, while we wait for word on the holds and on Gabriel, Posey’s bird,” Emerald said. “But I am certain the enemy shall not return, at least not now, after their devastating loss.” “And now, with one of the two weapons you have promised us…” Magnus ran a hand along the blade of Gram, Sir Agramane’s sword. “I shall use its power to fight off the enemy once I am fully recovered. Nidaroats shall not fall.” “The sword has no power in it anymore,” Sombra pointed out. “Tis merely a good piece of sharp steel now. But you say we need to unite the holds. I know a thing or two about diplomacy, but admittedly I know little of the diplomatic customs of the Frozen North. Hence, I do not know how much help I will be.” “Not to mention you are also a king,” Rake said. “Having two kings in the land might make some see High King Magnus as weak, if he is allowing another ruler to bandy about his lands.” “I assure you, I am only here to help,” Sombra said, a little taken aback. “Aye, and we all know it,” Stronghorn said. “But not all the jarls and Northmen are as clear headed as we are.” “Aye, especially Jarl Stern Counsel.” Rake shook his head and spat out a wad of saliva on the floor. “He was not even willing to go to aid of Jarl Windslope when Flankfold fell, his neighboring hold. Of all of them, I believe he shall not accept the call. He would rather sit in his comfortable castle and eat the famed Otterslo tomatoes.” “There has to be a way to make him see reason,” Emerald muttered. She had dealt with barons and minor lords back when she had been a Knight of the Round Table, and not all of them had been completely cooperative, her most prominent lord still being Lord Fiasco, that small man who felt as though he was much more and should be given a new plot of land beside Trottingham. She had to go teach him a few things about being a lord, which was ironic, seeing as she wasn’t a lord herself. “Be assured that Jarl Goat Gruff and all of Jorgjafylki stands with you, Emerald,” Rake said and planted a hand on her shoulder. “With the defeat of the valravn, you have proven your worth to us already, as seen in the axe you hold.” “And with the fall of Flankfold, that leaves us six holds.” Stronghorn mused.  “We will need to remind the other jarls of their oath,” Magnus declared. “Each jarl has vowed to come to the aid of the High King in times of need. Only, without Hel, they may refute my claim on the grounds of me not holding my right to rule.” “Could not one of your smiths craft you a facsimile?” Magnus shook his head. “Hel was made of metal and skill not of this world. Not even our finest metalworkers could come close.” “But try we must.” Emerald pointed to all the flags on the map before them. “These holds need to see that Morn won’t just stop at Nidaroats. Should he conquer this capital, they will all be lost and be taken into Morn’s Unified.” “And I agree.” Magnus nodded. “But for now, all we can do is await the return of our messengers and hope at least one jarl will have some semblance of duty to their kingdom.” “I suppose you are right.” Sombra walked away from the table and looked up at the banners around them. “Such disregard for their king. In Saddle Arabia, every soul would come to the aid of their king should it be asked of them.” Emerald spent a half hour more in the war room, but it soon became clear that until the messengers and Gabriel returned from their respective journeys, there was nothing much left to do but wait. “Then now the two of you, heroes of Nidaroats, get some rest.” Rake gestured to Emerald and Sombra. “There is nothing more to be done, so you may as well take some time off and prepare. For the coming journey.” “Aye, you still have yet to soothe your wounds.” Stronghorn flexed his muscles. “A few mugs of mead in and you will be feeling good as new.” The viking ushered Emerald and Sombra back to the main hall and soon called over three flagons of honey-colored brew. They sat down to enjoy the warmth of the hearth and to listen to the soft buzz of conversation. “Turn of events, isn’t it, Emerald?” Sombra tapped a finger against his flagon and then took a sip from it. “An artifact of your world, just like the grail, ah, I mean the Apple. And instead, it is no more. With it, I am sure you would’ve ended that dog of a king’s conquest.” “Tis a powerful shame it was destroyed,” Emerald sighed, drinking down a mouthful of mead. It warmed her up inside and she stared at one of the banners on the wall. “I should very much like to learn how Star Swirl’s artifacts ended up in the places that they are in now, but I suppose I’ll never know.” “I wonder myself why he would throw weapons of such power into another world instead of storing them in a chest, or a vault, or somewhere no one can use them.” To this, Emerald had no answer. So she simply shrugged and took another draught of her mead. “It  does make me wonder how they got into human hands. As you have seen, they are not meant for them. We have no idea if there are any more out there or if the five we know of are it.” “Ah, but you don’t have time to look for another one, do you?” Stronghorn said with a belch. His flagon was empty. “To quote an old viking saying, ‘we got what we got’.” “We got what we got,” Emerald repeated as Stronghorn went off to get more mead. “Terrible grammar.” “What’s a grammar?” Stronghorn placed his flagon down and grabbed another. “Nevermind,” Sombra said with a wink. “I am a long way from home, but seeing this city made safe does make me feel better. The fire helps too.” “Aye, that it does. I cannot imagine how you live in valleys of sand.” Stronghorn wiped droplets from his beard. “So, do you have plans, being in our city while we wait for word?” Emerald took her eyes off the banner and looked at the rest of the group scattered around the hall. “Just rest and recuperation. We will need to replenish our supplies of food and weapons, as well as repair our attire from any damage it took during the battle.” “You are free to have some of our coats.” Stronghorn patted the boar pelt over his back. “Staves off the cold and made of animal skin and fur. The best form of wear.” “I will also need to have my weapon serviced,” Sombra added. His royal scimitar had taken some serious notches during the battle before. “As well as see to my steed. Saddle Arabian horses are not bred for this cold, and my horse is one of my closest friends.” “Aye,” Stronghorn said. “But first, let’s finish our drinks. Here’s to us!”