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Legends Never Die: Legacy (ch. 104)
🕑 Added 2024-12-11 15:59:14 +0000 UTC“Father, what are they building?” Ragnar asked me, seated upon a slab of marble with his legs kicking back and forth endlessly. He pointed out to the construction crew that were assembling the pieces.
“It's called a water wheel,” I answered dutifully as I chiseled away at a stone statue. After more than a year, the hesitation had left my strikes when it came to shearing off stone. My current project was one I had only begun a week earlier, but it was already rapidly nearing completion as I brought out the woman lurking in the stone.
“Why?” Ragnar asked, watching the construction crew connect the outer water wheel to a building. By necessity, it was a tall one, standing three floors tall. Yet, the only room was the one at the top. The water wheel, likewise, was connected to a small aqueduct and a water break. It was all carefully measured, using the build of pressure from the weight of the water to channel the off flow perfectly from the aqueduct to the water wheel.
“Because a very smart Roman figured out that if you use the current of a river, you can use it to push the wheel to make it turn. Hence, like a wagon wheel, it's called a water wheel.” Within the building was the mechanism that allowed the room to turn. It was both complicated and simple -- essentially, the room turned by the weight of the water moving around within it. Small reservoirs within it would fill up, using that weight and force of the water to complete a turn. Once the motion was done, the water would then flow to another reservoir that filled up to complete another motion.
Repeat it enough times and the motion would be a complete circle.
“The one I'm using is a very different design, but the principle is still the same. I'm using force and pressure to create thrust. In this case, a spinning motion.” I continued, changing my tools for more precise chisels.
“Why?”
“Why does the room spin or why are the principles the same?” I asked, doing the detail work rapidly. As my confidence with sculpting grew, I found that I was having to create my own tools to get the detail work just right. The folds of fabric, the curls of hair, the creases and curves -- little things that brought a statue to life.
“Umm… Why does the room spin?” Ragnar decided.
“While the water gives the force to spin the room, the top floor is divided into two parts. The bottom layer is a track filled with bearings while the top layer is the floor of the room. As the water moves, the top layer spins, using the bearings to spread out the weight and to make sure the spin is smooth.” I replied, working my way down the statue at a rapid pace, each strike confident and sure. “The spin itself will be pretty slow, however. It'll rotate once per day.”
I waited for a moment, expecting the inevitable ‘why’, as it had rapidly become Ragnar’s favorite word. When it didn’t come, I glanced over my shoulder at him to see that he was staring at the statue. He pointed at her with a stubby finger, “She looks like other mother.”
Other mother could be Jill, Morrigan, or Jasmine. In this case, however, he likely met Jill. “That’s because I’m using Jill’s likeness for this statue. It’s not of her -- it’s of a Roman philosopher, mathematician, and astronomer Hypatia. I don’t really know what she looked like, so I made her look like Jill.”
“Why?” There it was.
I considered this one, however, for a moment. There were a couple of reasons, but if I gave them, Ragnar would ask me ‘Why’ about things that I wouldn’t know how to explain or want to explain. Hypatia was a woman philosopher who was murdered in such a brutal fashion that, centuries later, she was still remembered. During the rise of Christianity, when the pagan gods of Rome were being pushed away, a Christian mob ripped her from her chariot and then tore her apart before burning what was left of her body.
It was a tragedy but hardly the greatest in the world. What made Hypatia special was how, in the years since, people have used her murder. In a tense time during the Roman Empire, she was used as a mouthpiece for both sides of the issue of Hellinism vs. Christianity. Honestly, what I read of her told me more about the author than it did of Hypatia herself.
A sad thing for a longstanding dedicated scholar.
“Because she was a woman worthy of respect,” I answered. The statue of Hypatia was one of several that I was making. I planned on a dozen of them, each set around the spinning room, placed at the base of arches that would open to balconies.
“No, why did you make her look like other mother?” Ragnar clarified and I realized I didn’t need to put so much thought into it.
“Because Hypatia was said to have been very pretty, like Jill,” I replied with a chuckle. Ragnar hummed, sounding as if he was giving this answer a particularly great deal of consideration.
“Can I help?” He asked, and…
“Of course,” I agreed, reaching out and grabbing him by the back of his tunic and setting him down on the ground. “I’ll hold the chisel, okay? You swing the hammer,” I said, dropping to a knee and passing the hammer to my son, who had to use both hands to lift it. He was going to hit the chisel with far too much force, but I could control how much he took off-
That was my assumption, at least. What I didn’t expect was that when Ragnar took a swing at the chisel, he’d miss entirely and strike the statue directly. I blinked, looking at where a small chunk of the statue was broken off near the base. Ragnar immediately went still, his eyes widening, and he threw down the hammer as if it had betrayed him.
“Sorry! Sorry!” Ragnar cried out, his voice thick with emotion, on the verge of tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt it!”
I placed a reassuring hand on his back, “You made a mistake, Ragnar. It’s okay. Everyone makes mistakes.” I told him soothingly, picking up the hammer and pressing it back into his hands. “What’s important about making mistakes isn’t that you made them. It’s that you fix them.” Not every mistake could be so easily amended, but that wasn’t the lesson I wanted to impart right now.
Heastiantly, Ragnar took the hammer once more, looking at me for guidance. I gave him a small nod and, this time, his hammer struck the chisel. The rough rock started to chip away, the excess force behind the blows halted at my grip, so the impact was controlled. Slowly, the rough patch of stone was smoothed away, becoming a deep fold in the dress of Hypatia. The placement was a little unnatural, but I could clean that up later.
Ragnar, still a young boy, was huffing and puffing by the time we were done, but he still diligently corrected his mistake. Even if I had to stop him from taking another chunk out of the statue a half dozen times. But, by the end, the stone had been smoothed over once more. “Well done,” I praised him, patting him on the back as I took the hammer from him before making one small addition to the back of the statue.
My son blinked at the carved rune and pointed at it, “That’s my name.”
“You helped me with this statue, so you deserve some credit,” I said, adding his name next to mine. That got a boyish smile out of him before he raised his arms, telling me he wanted to be picked up. I set my tools aside and lifted him, thinking that it would be best to work on the statue some other time. “This statue, as long as it endures, is part of your legacy.”
“Why?”
I chuckled at the question, moving on to overlook as the waterwheel was being hammered into place. Structural Analysis told me that it should work. When combined with Stimulation, I saw that it worked. But, there was a knot of worry in my chest that it would fall apart or break. Out of everything I had built -- from statues to Norland itself, this was my most ambitious project. I was recreating the pinnacle of Roman engineering, something that the Romans themselves were unable to recreate.
“We all shall die one day. Myself. Your mother, and other mothers. Your siblings. And you, too, shall die,” I told him, one of the engineers looking over to me, asking for permission. I gave them a small nod. They removed the water block, allowing water to flow down the aqueduct into the waterwheel that began to spin, siphoning the water into the reservoirs inside. “We all have our chosen day. The Norns who decided our fate will one day cut the threads of our lives in the tapestry of the world.”
The water flowed, and nothing had broken. But, there was only one way to see if it was working. Carrying Ragnar to my side, I climbed the stairs that were set around the building, speaking quietly to my son as I did. “Our legacy, in the end, is what we leave behind. A legacy is the only part of a man, or woman, that can endure the test of time.” As I said as much, I walked by the names of the men and women who worked on the building.
I was inspired by the story Hadi told me, which described how the builders of the Pyramids would be immortalized for their aid in the construction of such a monument. I sought to replicate it.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I saw the room itself. The floor was a tiled mosaic, a bright palette of vibrant colors depicting my fleet arriving to the grand city of Constantinople. The room itself was separated by an inner and outer ring. The outer was solid, apart of the main building itself, and did not move. That was where the statues would be placed while the inner ring was smaller. Lounge chairs were arranged, as were low tables. It wasn’t complete yet, but it soon would be.
“A legacy is defined by your actions, Ragnar. What you do. What you create. What you destroy. Who you help and who you conquer. Who you are kind to and who suffers your cruelty. All of it defines what your legacy shall be, and it is by your legacy how people shall remember you,” I told him, looking out at the ocean. The spot for the spinning room was chosen largely because of its view. At one point of the day, I could have a good view of the sea, and at another, I could gaze out into the harbor, and at another, there was the city itself.
A slight smile tugged at my lips as I realized the room was moving. It was slow, but evident.
I had done it. I created the spinning room.
Quest: Founding a city.
Objectives:
Population: 40,132/25,000
Wealth: 238,100/100,000
Military Power: 14,000/10,000
Notable Buildings: 5/5
Reward: 1,000 Prestige. Trait: City Builder. 3 Stewardship Perks. 1 Diplomacy Perk.
I allowed the rewards of the last Grand Quest I received near the start of my stay in Rome to wash over me. The thousand Prestige was useful, and it added to my growing reserves for more Blessings or to further enhance my own Prowess, thanks to Gram. The Perks were very welcomed as I swiftly made my decisions.
Ore Wealth: Reveals the location of ore deposits lurking beneath the surface. Details type of ore, as well as depths up to 1,000 feet underground.
Mineral Wealth: Reveals the location of mineral deposits lurking beneath the surface. Details type of ore, as well as depths up to 1,000 feet underground.
District Planner: City planning can be a difficult task with many things only being revealed in hindsight. With District Planner, the user can visualize exactly where something should go to prevent messy complications, such as putting the blacksmith too close to housing.
However, information is determined by data user inputs.
I immediately chose the three Stewardship perks. Ever since I received the Boon of my Map, I have used it to great effect. With Earth Wealth, which informed me of soil fertility, I could effectively develop villages throughout Crete. Expanding Map’s ability even further by finding deposits of ore and minerals? In addition to District Planner, which showed me the optimal development of a village, town, or city? The combination was a powerful one. An exceptional tool to use once I become king.
The Diplomacy perk I chose was a less obvious pick.
Well Groomed: You will never have to worry about white teeth, combing your hair, or how you smell. Your grooming needs will never be a cause for concern in any shape or fashion.
I had passed over the perk as a boy, back before I saw a use for such things. When I didn’t understand what it meant to be a leader. Then, I thought that the only thing that really mattered was my ability to fight. My success in battle and the spoils taken. But, in the end, while those things did matter, they were only a portion of what a leader was. Appearances mattered. More than they should, honestly, but it was an undeniable truth.
Taking in a deep breath, I opened my eyes and gazed out at Norland, looking at it through the lens of my new Trait -- City Builder.
Happiness: 70%
Quality of life: 6/10
Population growth: 10% increase per year
Wealth: 238,100
Security: 85% per pop
Education: 35% per pop
Religion: 35% Norse Paganism, 20% Christian, 15% Muslim, 25% Jewish, 5% Other
The information was broken down for me using percentages, and it could be broken down further with categories. Security and Education were on a sliding scale, determined by how large the population was in comparison to the dedicated security force and places of learning I had.
Likewise, Wealth and Population Growth were broken down into factors like trade, personal wealth, and expenditure. Or, for population growth, breaking down reasons for migration to the city, how many people were having children, also how many people were leaving the city, or dying.
The most important factors, to me, were Happiness and Religion. Largely because they seemed largely interwoven, the greatest source of discontent in the city was the presence of other religions. This, in turn, impacted the quality of life the average citizen had because some of them felt oppressed that they couldn’t mercilessly slaughter what they deemed heathens. Beyond that, there was the general grievances -- noise pollution, hard labor, and so on. I also got to see what boosted them, such as the bathhouses, cheap ale, and plenty of work to make money.
Ragnar pointed out at the city, “Is that a legacy?”
“It’s part of it,” I agreed, mulling over the revelations that City Builder gave me. I had no idea that there were so many Jews in Norland. The spread of religions was far more even than I expected. I also expected that we would have more muslims, but they were a distinct minority. “You’re part of that legacy too. As your children will be part of yours.”
I could tell that he didn’t really understand, but that was fine. He was just a boy, not even three years old yet, though that day was soon fast approaching. He had plenty of time to learn, as I had plenty of time to teach him.
…
In the months following the Great Raid, time moved swiftly and slowly. There were a thousand and one little things to do in the long preparations for our return journey to Denmark. Ships needed their hulls cleaned and repaired, my soldiers' training was increased in preparation for war in Denmark, and we slowly began extracting ourselves from Rome. It was a slow process, and it was slower still with remaining loose ends such as Greek Fire, Kiev, and more.
We weren't leaving this year, but we were preparing for it. It felt like we both had far too much time to prepare for our departure while simultaneously not nearly enough.
“Another tireless night, is it, hm?” Morrigan announced herself as I paused my whittling, the carving knife pausing for just a moment, before I continued through with the motion.
“Seems so,” I admitted. Minor Regeneration had a side effect that I hadn't expected -- as my body was constantly being refreshed, I found that I didn't need as much sleep. Not even half as much. So long as I got a few hours every other day, I felt perfectly refreshed. It was an unintended benefit when I chose the Boon, but a welcome one. “What brings you to the Library?”
“My missing children,” Morrigan answered, cocking an eyebrow in my direction, prompting me to look down at Scáthach and Aífe, the two sleeping in my lap. They looked as if they both had fallen asleep in the middle of combat with Scáthach kicking Aífe's face, and Aífe returning the favor while passing out as she had been chewing Scáthach’s foot. Considering the legendary figures they were named after…
“Oh. They were being fussy, and I didn't want them to wake Magnus,” I offered an explanation. All of my children were being raised together, something that Morrigan had offered a degree of resistance against, but swiftly folded.
“T’is good that at least someone is getting the rest they require,” Morrigan remarked idly, approaching me before taking a seat next to me on the floor. I couldn't sit at a table due to my daughters’ insistence on flinging themselves from every single elevated surface that they could find, so I sat against a bookshelf. Morrigan sat at my side, and in a rare display of open affection, she leaned her head against my shoulder.
A hand smoothed the red hair from Scáthach's face, making the girl's face pinch and lash out blindly with a fist, even as she slumbered. Morrigan's lips twitched. “These few years have been kind to us,” she decided.
“Aye, they have been,” I agreed. “Our stay in these lands was not what I envisioned, but I'm thankful all the same.”
“Then you are resolute, then? To return?” Morrigan asked as I continued whittling. It was a caravel. One that could be broken into pieces to reveal the inner parts of the ship. It would be a good reference when it came to constructing the real thing.
“I am. The last true thing I'm waiting on is Tazates to give me the recipe for Greek Fire,” I admitted. That, and the official marriage between myself and Jasmine. It would be a dual marriage as Hoffer also consented to take an Abbasid wife to help secure the alliance. “By this time next year, I expect us to be back in our homeland.”
It had been three months since the Great Raid. The season was poor for travel, so we would winter in this country once more before setting sail come spring. We'd go the-
“Flemeth visited me in a dream,” Morrigan informed, making every thought come to a screeching halt. Flemeth. Her mother. The wise woman that my father brought me to as a boy when he questioned my strangeness. “T'is not the first time, but this time was different. She had a message for me to give to you.” What did she mean, it wasn’t the first time?
“... What would this message be?” I asked, not entirely sure I desired the answer.
“That wolf awaits you in Norway,” Morrigan said in a low tone, a hand going to my arm ring. The same arm ring that I swore an oath on, surrounded by the destruction of my home -- that I would not return to Denmark until I had slain the wolf that had given me the scar upon my neck.
I had seen it once since then, during my duel with Grimar. An arbiter of the gods, as far as I could tell.
And now the last challenge in my way before I could claim the crown.
“Good,” I decided. “I was worried that I'd have to hunt it down.” There was some trepidation at the thought of fighting such a beast. I've come close to death many times since, but none had been closer than when that wolf bit down on my neck. I had taken its eye as recompense, with both of us just barely surviving with our lives.
But I was very different from the boy who fought it before. I had accepted every challenge from the gods and I overcame them, and I had to believe that this time would be no different.
Morrigan relaxed ever so slightly against me, betraying how worried she had been. “You still might, fool. T’is not like Flemeth told me where he is waiting for you.”
I chuckled, “True. Still, it is better than hunting him across Saxony where I last saw him, only for him to not be there.”
“Speaking of wild chases, I have heard of one in Hispania,” Morrigan informed, far more relaxed now. “It seems that Hadi has led Charlemagne on a great one. There are rumors that three of his Paladin's are dead.”
That made a breath lodge in my throat. In the months since the Great Raid, I had kept a close eye on the events of Hispania. Partly because I had a personal investment in the outcome, and partly because I was curious what my actions set in motion.
Abd al-Rahman had surprised me a bit. He lost another battle against Charlemagne in the weeks following his initial loss, but he had yet to be defeated. The dual invasion seemed to inspire a fervor in his people that he took hold of, shedding a great many of his numbers and maintaining a core force of some five thousand men. From what I heard, he used them to great effect.
He did not fight in pitched battles. He wielded the army a great deal like I had in Francia -- attacking vulnerable locations, burning supplies, and making the occupation of his Caliphate as painful as he could possibly make it. Though, from what I understood, these tactics weren’t as effective on Hadi. It would seem he learned how to hide his supply lines after his experience with me.
“Which ones? How?” I asked, finding myself surprised.
“It would seem Hadi had put a great deal of thought into how he would kill you and used that on the Paladins,” Morrigan mused, and I could hear the smirk in her voice. “The details aren't yet clear, but what is, is that Hadi clashed with Charlemagne. Hadi gave a false retreat of some kind, which overextended Charlemagne's Paladins. He then closed the noose, isolated them, and overwhelmed them with numbers.”
There was a small pang of worry that Astolfo was dead. That would be a great shame. I could only hope that the ones dead weren't any of the Paladins I knew.
“Has Charlemagne retreated?” I wondered, knowing that the loss of three Paladins would be a harsh blow, if the rumors were true. Our way of granting Blessings was similar, though different in key aspects, but the loss of one of my Chosen would hamper my army severely. His Paladins, unlike my Chosen, were blessed with supernatural prowess whereas my Chosen gained otherworldly abilities that aided in the overall battle.
“Too early to tell. I don't know the scale of the defeat either. But, at most, I expect him to return to conquered lands to lick his wounds. He wouldn't so easily give up,” Morrigan reassured. Meaning that my plan to bog Charlemagne down in Hispania had worked. Unless he had been utterly crushed, he would be fighting in the area for years to come.
It was also clear that I underestimated Hadi. I would have liked to see it, but from the sounds of it, he used his experience fighting me to great effect. I was curious how much better he would fare if we had to battle once again. He never managed to defeat me, but he was an extremely frustrating enemy to face.
“Then Saxony shall be safe for a time,” I agreed. My gambit worked. With luck, Hadi would keep winning and he'd push Charlemagne out of Hispania entirely over the years.
Morrigan hummed before a yawn escaped her. It would seem she found me as soon as she woke up from the dream. I didn't comment on it, simply waiting for her breathing to even out and deepen. I didn't have to wait long as she fell asleep in no time at all, leaving me to quietly carve my ship as I mulled over the developments in silence.
…
Some didn't miss the preparations for our departure. It was easy to see when you anticipated that we'd be true to our words and eventually leave. The selling of estates was a big clue for most. Which, naturally, caused a flood of people who desired to extract the last bit of use from us before we left. Michalis was one, still holding onto the hope that he could buy ownership of Norland from me.
I would let him, but he wouldn't keep it for long. As it was, after he reclaimed his titles and former lands in the wake of Michael’s defeat, he proved he was exactly the kind of man I suspected him of. He broke his word to the merchant family that had taken him in, instead marrying a noble woman to secure his position. Upon his ascension, he effectively cut contact with us publicly, offering the barest of social necessities to ensure that he would get Norland.
Others, however, were far less expected.
“I thought you were dead,” I admitted to a man brought to me. We met exactly once, but he had left an impression.
Krum the Fearsome stood before me, alive and whole. Surprising, really, considering the sheer number of dead at the Red Sea. “I nearly was,” Krum confessed, his gaze flickering to Magnus, who I bounced on my knee while Jill sat next to me. Alim, the one who brought Krum to me, stood to the side. “I took three arrows that nearly claimed my life before I was dragged from the field. For months, I lay in a sick bed recovering. Once I grew strong enough, I went to fight for my people once more.”
I had heard that there was unrest in Bulgaria, but it didn't matter much to me. It was to be expected, really. There was longstanding animosity between the Bulgarians and Romans that didn't simply vanish because of a few lost battles. It didn't help that the Romans were hardly gentle with their occupation.
“So you did,” I acknowledge, my gaze sweeping over him. He was around my age, though a few years older. His appearance was rougher, an added scar clipping his lip. Before, he had the softness of a noble, even as a warrior, but now he had the air of a man that had gone hungry. That lived in harsh conditions to find that not only he could survive, but he could thrive.
“Before you defeated us, you said that you would have words with me. I am curious what those words might be,” he said. That was a bluff. If that was his reason for being here, then he'd have come much sooner.
When Krum never approached me, I had shelved an idea. It was of no true loss, but it would have been convenient if the idea worked out. That idea was to help Bulgaria reassert itself, engulfing Kiev, and in exchange for financial help, Bulgaria ensured that the Deniper river continued to receive trade from the Abbasids via a trade port on the Black Sea near the Armenian mountains.
“It is too late for us to speak of what I planned,” I admitted. “Seeing as you are here because the Bulgarian resistance is faltering.” Krum’s jaw tightened, telling me I was right on the mark. “You wouldn't be here otherwise.” To lower himself to asking help from the man who defeated him and led to his nation's downfall.
“Then I have wasted a journey, then?” He questioned, a quiet anger leaking into his voice. Which told me that Jill's Blessing was in full effect on him.
“No, I didn’t say that,” I corrected. “Merely that the plan that I had can’t work in current circumstances.” That made some tension bleed out of him, giving him hope that he could receive what he was looking from me -- freedom for his people. That wasn’t something I could really give him. Not in any meaningful way. Not with the time I had left in this land, nor without taking actions I’d rather not.
I only realized my foot stilled when Magnus started to whine, prompting me to continue, “I can offer you a choice, Krum the Fearsome. The first option is that I finance your efforts. A thousand talents to support your rebellion,” I said, speaking openly.
Krum’s eyes narrowed, “And what is the other path?” He knew as well as I did that money wasn’t necessarily the issue. It could hire mercenaries.
“You do as I did,” I told him. His eyes narrowed a fraction more before I continued, “I sailed across the world to learn from the Romans, seeking to take what made them great so I could bring it back to my homeland. To prepare to become a king over a nation. In the three years that I have been here, I have trained my army. I have secured great wealth. I have made far reaching alliances. All of it to ensure that when I returned, my victory would be certain.”
That was the core of it, in the end. I'm certain Horrik made plans. I currently had one festering in my own army, two hundred men that he had sent as spies. Men that would be the dagger in my back should I be careless, but also a dagger I intended to wield against Horrik. However, no matter his plans or what alliances he made, I was certain that I would take the kingdom of Denmark.
Krum's expression pinched, “You wish me to come with you.”
“I'm offering you the opportunity, yes,” I agreed. “Gather your strength in Denmark. There will be fighting aplenty for you to hone yourself and your allies on. You'll earn wealth and experience. Then, when you believe yourself to be ready, or you learn of an opportunity, you will be prepared to cast off the Romans.”
It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but he gave no outward show of it. “This is… an unexpected offer,” he admitted. I think, under normal circumstances, he would have dismissed it out of hand. Yet, he was looking at an example of someone who used the method I spoke of and found great success with it. “A generous one, I think. What shall it cost?”
“An ally,” I answered easily. “One who controls the Deniper, and one who maintains a reasonable tariff on trades ships come to and from the Black Sea.”
There was a pregnant pause for a moment before Krum broke it, “May I have time to consider your offer?”
“Of course. My people shall set sail upon winter's end. It would be best if you could give me an answer by then,” I told him and Krum inclined his head to me. With that, the Bulgarian commander left the spinning room, heading down the stairs.
Once he was gone, Jill looked at me, “Are you sure about that offer?”
“I am. I gain much if he succeeds and lose little if he fails,” I said, shifting Magnus to Jill. She took our son, resting him against her as she watched me stand up. “He was defeated by us, but I don't consider that to be a demerit against him. Not when we were his enemies, and he was fighting against a distrustful ally.”
Jill let out a small amused huff. I knew why. The statement was rather arrogant. But that didn't make it any less true. Few could have hoped to win in those circumstances. “If you see potential in him, then I will defer to your expertise. Regardless, it will be a Roman headache to deal with.” I would admit that was part of my motivation. I doubt that a freed Bulgaria would be much of an ally for Hoffer’s kingdom, not with Constantinople acting as the barrier to the Mediterranean and Black Sea, but there was something to be said about giving the Romans a lot of enemies to juggle so they couldn't focus on him.
So, if Krum did decide to come with me, I would give him the help he needed. If we were both lucky, his rebellion would be successful. If it wasn't, I would only lose money.
“Speaking of Roman headaches, we need to take your measurements again,” Jill noted, eyeing me. “You've grown taller. Again.”
I glanced down at my attire to find that my sleeves were a little short, falling just above my wrist. “Am I so poorly dressed it offends the Romans?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow. I wasn't sure if that was another part of Minor Regeneration or not. My father had always been a tall man, but I think I was growing larger than him and I was growing fast. It could be a natural growth spurt, or it could be the Boon.
“Not quite,” Jill mused with a teasing smile. “I meant for your wedding clothes. I need to know how many yards of silk it's going to take to make you presentable.” Ah, my wedding with Jasmine. That was another thing that was fast approaching.
“Yards?”
“You’ll be dressed in their style. To help facilitate the wedding,” Jill decided and I nodded, accepting the decision.
“Very well. I rather like their attire, so it suits me well,” I reasoned, leaning against one of the balconies overlooking Norland. I would miss this view, I knew. But I was resolved to build greater ones in Denmark.
As I did, however, I saw a bird fast approaching our position -- Morrigan. The raven landed on a perched finger as I took a small slip of paper from its leg. Setting Morrigan aside, I unfurled the letter and read the text upon it.
Yet, the contents of the letter took a moment to sink in.
Long enough that Jill started to look worried, “Siegfried? What happened?”
I scratched at my jaw, considering the news for a second more. What it meant for us.
“Emperor Constantine the Sixth is dead,” I answered, making Jill go still. I could see her coming to the exact same conclusion that I did. “And Irene has declared herself Empress due to a lack of a clear heir.”
It would seem that we left Rome a little too late.
Comments
Elaine
what happened to the reward from defending crete from the abbasids?
David L
So, what happens if Sieg decides that the coming civil unrest is none of his business? I don't think his contract said anything about fighting in Roman civil wars...
Sover_Invic
And she alienated herself from the church and her nobles . Cursed be the kinslayer indeed. Wonder how it will be different this time around with Siegfried and friends. Guess we will find out.
Highfist
Wait, so she killed her own son?
Joshua Graham
Just when he thought he was out, they pulled him back in.
