IdeasGuy
patreon
Power Corrupts: Breaking Bread (ch. 55)
🕑 Added 2020-11-21 16:03:27 +0000 UTCI don't think that had been a mistake, I thought to myself as I walked back to the tavern. There was a bit of time until the fated meeting between Ulfric Stormcloak and Nocturnal. And that was going to be a shit show, no matter how I looked at it. It was important to establish boundaries. Lines in the sand that couldn't be crossed.
I wasn't a Stormcloak. Letting Ulfric treat me like one would have been the mistake. Still, I couldn't imagine he was happy with me right now. If it came down to a fight, I was certain that I would win, but it's what came after that was the issue. I would be the guy that killed Ulfric Stormcloak. That might open some doors for me, but it would also close others. And if I couldn't find the Dragonborn, or teach one of the Greybeards Dragonrend if I couldn't learn it myself… then Ulfric was the last resort.
It was difficult to remember at times, as I waded through an ocean of issues. That the end goal was saving the world. It seemed like such a far off destination, but all of this was building towards it. The Stormcloaks had a lot of soft power. Enough that I couldn't do something drastic to simplify the problems by just killing Ulfric, even without the need to keep him around as a backup. That neutrality that Hestia enjoyed would be jeopardized and it was possible that the Civil War would kick-off because of Ulfric's death. He could become a martyr.
A sigh escaped me, "What a pain in the ass," I said, not for the first time. Why couldn't anything be simple? I should have just stayed at Helgen. In bed with Hestia… actually, I'm kinda regretting picking Skyrim as the world I went to. Sure, I got great equipment out of it, but I still had no magic, the enchantments hadn't appeared… which were my main motivations for picking this world.
I shook my head to dismiss the thoughts. Now was not the time for bitching. I just had to oversee the meeting, ensure that Ulfric didn't get the win that he wanted while making sure that the message that the gods couldn't do whatever they wanted got across. A balancing act. No big issue.
Pushing open the tavern door, I saw every eye dart to me and the conversation died down as soon as I ducked my head to enter. I didn't mind. It made finding the table with Farkas, Aela, and Mjoll easier. Farkas raised a hand to get my attention, and I ignored the looks I got as I crossed the bar.
"Oh, you don't look happy," Farkas remarked, pushing a mug of ale towards me. "Political differences with Jarl Ulfric?" He guessed while I took a sip. I still didn't care for the taste of alcohol, but maybe it would help with the stress headache that this city seemed intent on giving me.
"If I say yes, then I want a cut of the bet," I told Farkas, who grinned as he held out a hand to Mjoll, who looked at me with abject horror as she numbly handed over the coins, some of which were handed to me. "Nothing so grand as what you're thinking, though. Ulfric wanted me to be his errand boy. I refused." I explained, earning a huff from Aela.
"Did you threaten him?" Aela questioned, and I took a moment to recall the conversation. Then she held out a hand to Mjoll when I nodded.
That was kinda insulting, but the fact she had won that bet said it all.
"I cannot believe that someone would talk to Jarl Ulfric that way. And live," Mjoll admitted as she handed over more coins to Aela, some of which also went to me.
To that, I shrugged. "He can't kill me for the same reason that I can't kill him -- I'm the Captain of the Hestia familia. Ulfric wants to make an enemy of the Daedra, but making an enemy of a Divine is completely against his interests. It'll probably stop his rebellion dead in its tracks if he gets denounced by the rest of the Ten." Dibella would denounce Ulfric because Hestia would, and I would imagine that others would follow suit. If only because denouncing someone seemed fun.
I took a sip of my ale, "That being said, if it did come down to a fight, then I like my chances. His Shouts are the biggest worry, but I can move faster than he can speak." And he would have a great deal of trouble speaking if I tore off his bottom jaw.
Mjoll just blinked, looking between the two for confirmation, and saw them mull it over for a moment before nodding in agreement. "I'm surprised, but I suppose I shouldn't be. You are a Divine's chosen."
"And the situation?" Aela questioned, wanting to know what we were about to walk into. There was no sugar-coating it.
"Bad. Ulfric won't be satisfied until Nocturnal is in chains. Nocturnal has the Skeleton Key, and she's unlocked the potential of her guild. Saw what some of them could do -- they're superhuman, if only barely. They'll slaughter the Stormcloaks if it comes to a fight." I answered grimly.
Part of me wanted to just let the slaughter happen. Nocturnal would make the enemies instead of me, and if I had the Dragonborn or had made any progress with learning shouts… I might give into the temptation. But until I had someone that could use Dragonrend on hand, I couldn't afford to get rid of backups. No matter how tempting.
Mjoll scoffed, "Those honorless rats don't have the stomach to fight." Farkas nodded, showing that he felt the same. I could see why they thought that -- thieves weren't warriors by nature.
"A cornered rat will fight to the death if it means survival," I rebutted evenly. "Ulfric isn't likely to give them many options in that regard."
Aela nodded, agreeing with that point. Mjoll's lips thinned, but she nodded all the same.
"And there's likely going to be a new Jarl," I added, crossing my arms after emptying what was left in the tankard with a long swallow. "The current one lost her taste for the position -- between the Thieves Guild and Maven being caught out on all of her lies, Laila has fallen apart. Even if she pulls herself together, I doubt she'll lead."
Mjoll scowled, "I can't say I'm happy about that, even if that vile witch will get her overdue justice." In all likelihood, she was dead or dying as we spoke.
"Do we plan to install a friendly Jarl in her place?" Aela questioned in a low tone. That… sounded like a good idea. There was just one major issue.
"I wouldn't even know where to start," I told them. "There's no candidate that springs to mind that we could back. I figured it would just be one of her kids." This whole situation was a bit much for me. By… a whole lot. I wasn't in my element. I wasn't even close.
Rigging elections was honestly just beyond me. And I wasn't sure if it was worth the trouble.
"Not necessarily," Aela stated with a shake of her head. "Anyone could present their case for why they should be made Jarl -- connections, wealth, or deed. The nobles cast their votes and a Jarl is chosen. If the candidate that is picked is deemed unworthy, then another candidate can challenge them to a duel."
"A candidate backed by a Divine would go far," Farkas pointed out. So, I had the power to point at some random idiot and give them a claim to a throne or to take it myself. Or, if I didn't have the votes, I could just take it anyway? That seemed… a lot like shotgun democracy, honestly.
I shook my head, "I like my problems better when I can just swing at them," I admitted. It felt like a dumb thing to say, but if given a choice between a simple problem and a complicated problem, then I knew my choice.
The trio chuckled at that. Still, it was worth keeping in mind, though it wasn't a likely possibility. Backing a non-Stormcloak candidate would pretty much seal the deal and make Ulfric an enemy. Right now, he was probably a little pissed and annoyed with me. But the relationship wasn't unsalvageable. Backing a Loyalist would make it unsalvageable.
I opened my mouth to tell them exactly that, only to be cut off by the sound of a clatter. Glancing over, I saw the Argonian woman glaring at a Nord, a tankard of ale laying on the ground with its contents spilled out.
"I said, SKYRIM IS FOR THE NORDS, you lizard cunt," the Nord shouted in her face, turning an ugly shard of red. I blinked at the sight, wondering what I was seeing. Was this actually happening? I… this was my first time seeing such blatant racism that it caught me off guard. The same was true for most of the other people in the tavern, because rather than the standing ovation of applause the drunk Nord was expecting, people just stopped talking and watched.
"I heard you the first time. And this is my tavern. If you have a problem, then drink elsewhere," Keerava returned, her tone even while another Argonian stepped out of the backroom to the tavern floor.
Mjoll shot out of her seat like it was on fire before she marched towards the Nord. And this was why it was pointless to try to challenge Ulfric by installing a Loyalist. This city belonged to the Stormcloaks from the top down. If a Loyalist was elected then the only thing that would happen would be that the Loyalist would die young.
"Mjoll, you bug plucked from a troll's armpit-" the drunk started, seeing Mjoll approach.
"Enough. Out," Mjoll bit out, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, prompting the few men he was with to get up. And that in turn prompted Aela and Farkas to stand. And that prompted one of the men to sit right back down, but the others were willing to back up their friend.
Then I pushed off the wall I was leaning against and I saw regret on their faces. I didn't even have to walk over. The drunk's friends grabbed the guy and started forcing him out of the bar. Mjoll glared the entire way, looking like she was about to follow them out, but a hand on her shoulder by Keerava stopped her.
"A couple of drunk words aren't anything to spill blood over," Keerava said. Mjoll looked ready to disagree, before she let out a long breath and nodded. There was a lingering silence, people wondering if the scene was over. Keerava looked to me and offered a nod, which I returned. With that, she picked up the mug, and walked to the back with her head held high. The other Argonian quickly followed her back.
With her gone, the people's eyes drew towards me. Swallowing a sigh, and feeling a little less welcomed in the tavern, I started to leave. The others followed me and I saw that really put some urgency in the Nords. No sooner that we were outside, Mjoll spoke up. "I'm sorry, I-"
"You didn't do anything wrong," I dismissed, looking at the market before I noticed that the market was pulling in one direction. Towards something.
Mjoll seemed to disagree as I started to walk forward. "Those men were Stormcloaks. They'll tell Ulfric that you were going to attack them." Ah, she was probably right about that.
"That guy was a racist, and his friends were too. That's what they nearly got their asses kicked for. If Ulfric has a problem with that, he can get…" I started, standing above the crowd so I could easily see what was drawing so much attention in the distance. A body hanging from a statue in front of a sizable building.
Pushing my way through the crowd, I walked closer to see if my eyes were deceiving me. They weren't.
"By the gods," Mjoll breathed, the others following in my wake to see the body of a woman. A sign declared the building the property of the Black-Briar family. The statue was of one of the Divine, but I couldn't tell which one.
Maven Black-Briar. Dead.
"She killed herself," one person said.
"Her neck broke from the fall," another said while I looked up at the body. I didn't need to sear the memory into my brain. Perfect Recall did exactly that for me. They all talked about how she had killed herself. How it was because she had lost everything or that Nocturnal had a hand in it.
It was me. I had murdered her. Babette was just the knife used to do it.
Murder felt different than killing, I noted. It was heavier. In battle, I've killed plenty. I've executed people in brutal ways with my bare hands. I've gotten people killed on accident -- Nenya, Jarl Siddgeir, and his uncle. The first two, their deaths had either been in response to an attempt of murder or preemptive self-defense. The latter…
I think this was the first time I had intentionally murdered a person before. No justification of self-defense, or that they deserved it completely and utterly. Even the idea that it was for the greater good rang pretty hollow.
Maven was killed because she would have gotten in my way, one way or the other. So, she was removed.
And that's all there was to it.
…
A handful of hours weren't enough to settle the news of Maven Black-Briar's apparent suicide. Babette did her work well. As far as anyone could tell, she killed herself in an act of spite -- killing herself in front of her brewery, on a statue of Stendarr. A statement that it was hers. I didn't bother bringing the news to Ulfric because he undoubtedly had heard.
But, hours later, time proved that it paused for no man. Except me. Allegedly.
Dusk approached and I found myself leaning against a stack of crates at the end of the docks. The sky was dyed a vibrant orange and red as the sun set. One of the moons was already rising from our view of the open dock, not quite as in sync like Earth's sun and moon had been. The second moon was peeking up over the horizon as well.
To the east was open ocean and rolling waves. The docks themselves made up about half of the city. It was like stores, homes and the like slowly flooded over from the city onto the docks, and in response the actual docks for ships were forced to move further east.
"Do you think the meeting will go well?" Mjoll questioned, looking at me. Farkas started to laugh while Aela frowned deeply.
"Define going well?" I asked, waiting for either Nocturnal or Ulfric to show up. It was Dusk. The anointed time. The hour was here and I just wanted to get it over with at this point. A knot of tension formed in my back, considering every way that this could go wrong. And there were so very many ways that this could go wrong.
"No fights and a compromise is made," Mjoll stated. I glanced at her to see that she was serious.
"About as good as me joining the Thalmor," I said, ruthlessly crushing whatever hope that she had for a not-terrible outcome.
Mjoll nodded, a sigh escaping her. "I understand that Nocturnal is a god, but she's the god of thieves."
At that instant, I saw Nocturnal step out of nothing. I wouldn't have seen it without my expanded vision, but she appeared to just materialize from thin air. Much like Adoring Fan had. "The goddess of mysteries and the enigmatic," Nocturnal corrected, making Mjoll stiffen as they spun around to face her.
Farkas and Aela handled her presence better, having been exposed to Hestia. Mjoll had no such tolerance as Nocturnal's godly presence washed over her -- a reminder that they stood in the presence of someone beyond mortal comprehension. Doubly so for a god like Nocturnal.
She gaped openly at Nocturnal, while the god looked over us, though her gaze lingered on me. "A brave man to keep a god waiting," Nocturnal idly remarked. She was here. Good. And I was just going to assume that we were completely surrounded by her guild. "Or a fool," Nocturnal added.
To that, I could only shrug. "I passed him the message, but it's a power play. He might be trying to make you go to him." I know I was supposed to remain impartial, especially if I was going to make sure it didn't come to blows. It was obvious enough, though.
"You…" Mjoll spoke up, her eyes narrowed into slits. "You have plunged this city into chaos and your guild has plagued this land for centuries." I stiffened at the accusation in her tone, Mjoll's lips thinning while Nocturnal simply raised an eyebrow in response.
"You have a kind heart and a keen sense of justice, Mjoll," Nocturnal spoke lightly, but her gaze was sharp as a knife. "And a habit of poorly choosing enemies."
"My enemies are those that believe that the law doesn't apply to them because they have money and power," Mjoll responded quickly and resolutely.
Nocturnal offered a thin smile, "Then your enemy is every noble, mercenary, and merchant in the world." Which didn't exactly disprove her point.
I swallowed a sigh and I was damn near relieved when I saw two men walking towards us. Ulfric Stormcloak and his companion, Galmar. Both men's expressions were set in grim masks of determination like they could will Nocturnal into chains by glaring hard enough. Nocturnal stood at the end of the dock, her back facing the moons, and I could see why she had chosen this location. Ulfric must be getting quite a sight as he approached.
His gaze flicked to me, "Thane Jericho," he greeted with a curt nod while he paid the others little mind. "Goddess Nocturnal," he greeted, giving the god his full attention. His expression was grave as her presence washed over him as well, but he held himself together better than Mjoll did.
"Ulfric Stormcloak," Nocturnal returned, her tone colored by amusement and the tension between them almost became tangible. I crossed my arms as I leaned against the crates -- I was here to step in if things looked like they were going to shit. They would be the ones deciding if they went to shit or not.
There was a lapse of silence while they stared at each other, neither backing down. I cast a look at Farkas and Mjoll who shifted to stand on the other end of the dock across from me and Aela. Based on their expressions, they already knew that this wasn't going to end well.
"Jarl Laila. Is she still alive?" Ulfric broke the silence, his tone frosty and hard.
"She's someplace safe, likely drinking to her heart's content,” Nocturnal responded quickly, her tone aloof. She tilted her head, her gaze running over the length of Ulfric. Her expression didn’t change, but I got the impression that she wasn’t impressed. “Your men in the Ratway won’t do any good. You won’t find her there. Or in the city.”
“Forgive me if I don’t take you at your word, Daedra,” Ulfric returned just as quickly. He met her look with a glare, his hands clenched at his sides. “I’m here for her release and to return her to her throne-” Ulfirc was cut off when a letter dropped down, nearly hitting him in the face. The letter appeared from thin air, much like how Nocturnal had. Only I didn’t see the Skeleton Key in her hands. Had she let another borrow it?
Ulfric looked at the letter, at the wax seal on it, with a deep frown before he tore it open. Reading it over for a few seconds, he crushed the paper in a hand and tossed it into the ocean. “A letter that you forced her hand to pen. It’s meaningless. I will see proof that she is alive and unharmed, Daedra.”
“I didn’t make anyone write anything. I have no reason to lie, Ulfric. Least of all to someone like you,” Nocturnal stated, her tone just as sharp as her gaze. Ulfric’s face twisted into a snarl, and a handful of words in, they were already at each other's throats.
I leaned off of the crates, making both of them look at me. “I saw Jarl Laila down there, alive and well. And drunk. She might still be there, though, because of the Skeleton Key.”
Nocturnal offered a nod, “She’s in Markarth, at the moment.” One edge of her lips twisted upwards in a smile that seemed mocking. “They are quite fond of you, Jericho. They’re still burning bodies, but a statue of you is being placed in the central market.
Ulfric stiffened at that, “Bodies?” There was a harshness in his tone, lacking the context behind Nocturnal’s words.
To that, Nocturnal’s mocking smile grew a fraction. “Jericho slaughtered a Forsworn army single-handedly. Or so they say. There was a mountain of corpses before the city gates, and blood flowed in rivers down the mountains. Not quite what I expected when I brought Jarl Laila to the city.”
She was looking for me to verify that she was in the city. “That sounds about right,” I agreed, but Galmar shook his head.
“What’s this about a forsworn army?” He demanded, sounding like he didn't believe it.
“Long story short? Sanguine and Dibella threw a party and it got out of hand. The Forsworn kidnapped the Jarl, I took him back and killed their king in the rescue, they attacked the city en mass. Hagravens turned them into Briarhearts and undead, and I killed most of them when they were going to lay siege to the city. It all happened about… three days ago, which is why you haven’t heard.” I told them both, and Ulfric wore a deep frown on his face.
Not the reaction I had hoped for, but the one that I expected. Mjoll had a better reaction, muttering a quiet ‘by the gods’ under her breath. I don’t think she believed me when she heard. Or she imagined my role to be smaller.
Though… “What kind of statue are they building?” I asked, a sneaking suspicion worming in.
“You standing on top of a mountain of corpses with a sword pointed to the sky. I’m told it’ll look very heroic,” Nocturnal answered and I scowled. Ulfric looked between us for a moment before he offered a slow nod.
“Very well. I will accept that she’s in Markarth, but the issue still remains -- you’ve kidnapped a Jarl, and murdered Maven Black-Briar.” He accused, his tone flat. I stiffened a bit at that, looking at Ulfric, wondering if he somehow suspected me. But I had no reason to kill her, as far as he was aware. Nocturnal did. And she had the ability to make the death look like a suicide.
Nocturnal let out a dismissive breath, “I had no hand in Maven’s death.”
Gamar glared, “The punishment for murder is hanging,” He remarked, looking at Nocturnal like he was picturing a rope around her neck.
“What a significant man you are,” Nocturnal dismissed the threat. “Threatening me with death for a murder I did not commit… I do admire your boldness. Since I have left my realm in Oblivion, I’ve experienced a great deal walking among mortals. None would have dared to speak to me like that before, but now we suddenly see at eye level, and the disrespect a mortal will show is shocking.”
I shifted where I stood, knowing I was guilty of that as well, though she didn’t seem to be directing the words at me. “You wish to see me hang? Very well then. I’ll hang. Then I’ll return to my realm and my full power will once again be at the tips of my fingers. Luck is such an undervalued thing, Ulfric Stormcloak. It’s something you never think about until its run dry. Your petty rebellion will meet a swift end when you slip down an icy patch on a step. Or a bowstring will snap and send an arrow through an eye. Or perhaps I’ll wait until your rebellion begins, and every messenger and order ends up intercepted by an empire soldier?”
Nocturnal took a step forward, and the darkening shadows seemed longer and darker than they should be. “If you seek to threaten a god, then you had best prepare yourself for the consequences.”
And there was the crux of the issue. There was no stopping a god. Not really. In Danmachi, if you defeated a god, then they got sent back to Heaven and were put at the end of a waiting list. They might not be able to return to the lower world for thousands of years, unable to interact in any way with those that had sent them back unless they died and their souls went to Heaven.
That was not the case here.
“Nocturnal,” I started, undercutting the tension that was growing. “Ulfric is right. To a degree. There need to be rules. They had them in Hestia’s home. At the rate things are going, the gods will end up destroying the world before anyone else can.”
At that, Galmar shot me a look. “Hestia’s world?” He questioned, and the question caught me a bit off guard. Just not enough to not answer.
“Hestia is a god from another world. She came here and offered her Arcanum to the Aedra because… well, she felt like it was useless to her since she lives as a mortal. It’s a system that originated where she’s from-- the gods descended from their realms, sealed off from their power.”
Ulfric sent me a look, “So, Divine Hestia is the cause of the gods descending?” He questioned, making me frown. There was an accusation in his voice that I didn’t care for.
“Hestia acted as an example of what could be done. Akatosh agreed to run an experiment and allowed the Daedra to slip through the barrier that surrounds Mundus,” Nocturnal offered an explanation.
“And since she’s been here, she’s built a city out of Helgen. She’s an example of what others should be doing,” I added, daring either of them to say differently. Neither of them did, though Galmar looked like he was certainly thinking it.
However, Ulfric shook his head, “None of that matters. The point is that you have broken the law, Nocturnal. Thoroughly and utterly. You are not a Divine. You have given nothing to this world and you have sacrificed nothing to create it. You are not above the law -- if you cannot be hanged, then you will be imprisoned.”
“And I suppose I’ll just turn myself in?” Nocturnal questioned, her tone just as hard as Ulfrics. “For all your talk of saving Jarl Laila, you seem awfully trusting when I said that she was alive and well. Perhaps that was a lie? Would you still be so eager to act then?” Nocturnal questioned lightly, poking Ulfric’s buttons.
Galmar's hand went to the axe he carried on his back, but mine shot out to grab it, stopping it cold. He glared up at me, and I met his gaze evenly.
“No fighting,” I told him, not letting go of his wrist until I was sure that the message got across. It wasn’t until Ulfric shook his head when Galmar looked at him that he relaxed his hand, prompting me to let go. I looked between Ulfric and Nocturnal and I felt the situation slipping between my fingers like grains of sand. There was absolutely no way of making both of them happy. Ulfric wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than imprisoning Nocturnal, and Nocturnal had no interest in being imprisoned.
I was completely out of my element. Maybe a better diplomat might have found a compromise, but that diplomat wasn’t me.
“In Hestia’s world, when the gods descended, there were some rules. Most of them are similar to the ones that Akatosh laid out -- no using your divine power, and others.” In Danmachi, in Orario at least, there had been the Guild that served as an equalizer. It didn’t have any true power beyond what the gods gave it, but they gave it power because they knew something like the Guild was needed.
“At the end of winter, there will be a Moot,” I said… and I… I was honestly just pushing this confrontation back, but for good reason. I couldn’t handle this. Not well enough. Not how it needed to be handled. I had absolutely no clue what I was doing, and it showed badly. “There… I think there should be a discussion between the Jarls, the King, and the gods about their stay on Nirn. This won’t be settled here. There, at the Moot, all voices can be heard and there can be a real discussion about what needs to be done.”
I looked at Nocturnal, “I know you didn’t intend for this mess to happen. And I know Sanguine was more careless than malicious with his acts in Markarth, and Malacath just wants to make a home for the Orcs. But the same can’t be said for all of the Daedra,” I said, and to that point, Nocturnal nodded.
There were at least two Daedra that wanted to destroy Nirn.
There was no Guild in Tamriel. So… my hope was that the Empire or Skyrim would become that check on their power. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to either. I doubt there was a perfect solution to this problem, but I knew I wouldn’t find it so I was kicking the can down the road and hoping that someone else would pick it up.
Looking between them, I saw both of them mulling the proposal over. It was Ulfric who nodded first, “I will accept that… on the condition of the return of Jarl Laila,” he decided. From what I knew, this would run into his own plans… and I could guess what they were. After all, if he became King at the Moot, then he would become the check on the gods’ powers.
Nocturnal met Ulfric’s gaze, considering it. Then, with a gesture, a woman appeared. Jarl Laila. She stumbled, looking green in the face before she bent over and puked over the docks. I took a step back, though I didn’t miss the tight lipped smile on Nocturnal’s face when some landed on Ulfric’s boots. “I’ll see you at the Moot then,” she decided, before taking a step back and vanishing into nothing.
Ulfric looked like he was swallowing a sigh. It was a toss-up for which reason. He glanced at me while Galmar helped the Jarl of Riften stand up straight, only to find that she was blackout levels of drunk. Ulfric offered a small nod but said nothing. I saw it for the dismissal that it was and started to walk away, Mjoll, Aela, and Farkas following along.
We walked a distance before Farkas spoke up. “That didn’t go so bad?” He tried, sounding like he was confused about why I wasn’t happy with the outcome.
The answer was simple -- The Stormcloaks and the Empire in one room. The Aedra and the Daedra in one room. Something like this was going to catch the attention of the Emperor as well… and the Thalmor.
The Moot was fucked.
Comments
Denis Safiev
It was fucked from the beginning. Now it's MAJORLY fucked.
Douglas Karr
Well like hot damn dude, this will certainly be spicy for everyone at the moot, now Jericho just has to finish up some more sidetracked adventures and head on over to his next stop
Douglas Karr
. . . .And how
