Thunder Maker

Worked on 1.2 — 59m24s — 2023/10/02

Garfindel kills Varius, then goes north. He comes across Dolif in Crimsith Peak, and there’s a scuffle. Dolif backs the man down. Garf continues north and comes across Gliedian. He kills Gliedian for giving Banifourd to their enemies, then goes north looking for Creigal.

Emenda,

The recent splitting of this great duchy has done harm to my heart, but your letter was received at quite the right time, and serves as salve. I do miss your family greatly, and hope you will pass along my warm regards. I don't know when I shall next visit the Breck, but I hope I will not stay away too long.

Let me tell of some of the circumstances here, as I am assuming you have heard only some version of the truth. Our enemies are acting openly against us, and I am now able to speak more candidly. Still, I shall not bore you with the military details, as I have sent missives to those that must know. You can hear it from them if you wish to have particulars.

Sadly, our Duke is still missing. It has been nearly a month since we received word from Gaetilly. Some fear the worst, arguing that Aurendoun and his siblings would not act against their father if he was still alive. I have sent dozens of men north, in search of my uncle, though I suspect it will be some weeks before any return.

In out Duke's absence, Aurendoun and his brothers have set the north and eastern regions afire, with support from King Greb duReb and Empress Seviticah. The north is particularly nasty and nefarious as several nobles have openly declared for the traitors, including my cousins in Crimsith Peak. There has been some fighting and a good number of foreign agents active all over the duchy, but I am safe and far from any fracas in Bastion's Crossing, surrounded by many good and competent men. Despite the open fighting and bloodshed, I am in good spirits. Creigal and I long talked of the time when this war between the duchy and the kingdom would move out of the shadows and into the open. No longer will I have to pretend of any fealty to the hypocrites in Danyan. Now that there is open fighting, we shall use this excuse to sever our remaining obligations to the Saotren throne and the Empire of Minist. There will be nothing between us, not even trade, until a true and lasting peace can be established.

Now that we are free to do so, we shall recognize the Lands of Breck, and lift any semblance of sanctions the King has imposed between us. No longer will the throne dictate even a few token influences over our politics. May the peace between Breck and Gaurring continue in its increase! Indeed, we are fortunate to have such good allies!

I must say, I find it shocking how quickly the lines can be redrawn. For years, so very little changed. And now, almost overnight, the fighting is out in the open. I am still coming to grips with recent happenings. It is a volatile time, but there are many of my council that believe we have won more than we have lost in recent days. I agree. The traitors are in the open, and no longer operate unimpeded throughout the Duchy. We sever the last of our obligations to the glutton King, and we are finally free to recognize our true allies. We bought this at the cost of the highlands. Yet, there are many loyal people in that land. Plans already move forward to see them freed. There are several sound operations that I know of—but I will speak no more of it until we succeed. Enough of politics.

I hope I have not bored you with so much sad detail. I love you so, and grow tired of this lengthy courtship. I have counted recently and notice we have been promised for more than nine years! It is too long! I swear I shall marry you at my earliest convenience, and thanks to the rash choice of my cousins, it is now politically expedient to do so. I know it will do my heart much good, and it shall be a great celebration for both our people to see us together. What do you say? Will you marry me even so soon as next spring? For the time, I am much needed here, and do not think I can get away any sooner. But I shall not be away for long. Spring comes sooner than we think.

I do hope you enjoy the company of my cousins, Madeleine and Cosetta. It is kind of you to take them in. They are from my mother's family, and are quite talented. Cosetta is well known for her writing in much of Gaurring—and you simply must hear Madeleine sing and play the lute. if she does not already bless you with her talents, you must ask her to do so. She is shy about her music, though I do not understand why, as her talent is rare and exquisite. I thank you so much for looking after them, and hope they are good company. I admit, I have encouraged many of my family to seek opportunity and leisure in the Breck—and now they must know why.

And now I must say adieu, darling. I have kept you long enough—oh, Ema! How my heart grieves at our distance! I count the days until I see you again!

Sincerely,

— Vauris phenSualus, Heir and Acting Regent of Gaurring, Captive Heart to the Countess of Mediana, Emenda faQuis

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 1.2 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Varius phenSualus, Count of Bastion’s Crossing, had thought that his responsibilities would increase dramatically when he finally inherited the title and duties of the Duke of Gaurring. Yet, there were such capable men in the employ of his uncle that little had changed after he was alerted to the fact that Creigal had disappeared, and that he would be acting in his Uncle’s stead. He was simply given more details concerning the operation of his uncle’s vast enterprises, and when he met with his uncle’s advisors and administrators, instead of being yet another member of the council, he was now the one to make the final decision.

Not that Varius had taken over completely. He refused to hear talk of his coronation until it was proved that his uncle was gone—or at least until it was unlikely that Creigal should ever come back—which at the current pace meant he’d put off any official assumption of title and duty for a good decade or more. Besides, it’d only been a few months, and his network of scouts and sneaks were still looking for any sign of his uncle.

Last he’d heard, Creigal was on his way to Wibbeley—but from there the trail had gone cold. This wasn’t terribly surprising. Varius wasn’t getting much news out of the Noeth, and what news he was getting tended to be vague and contradictory. There was said to be fighting—though Varius was having difficulty discovering the nature of the conflict. It didn’t help that his network of sneaks and spies was pretty thin in the Noeth. His Uncle’s intelligence operations were largely in the west, in Danya and Pagladoria, where most of his enemies held sway. He had a few men in Land’s End, and an agent that lived in High Plains. But as far as the coming war with the King was concerned, the Noeth was relatively unimportant. Admittedly, the Dunkels were set against them, but their resources were relatively thin. Land’s End was a formidable city, and Wibbeley was fairly large. But between the two was the vast expanse of the Noethrin Plain, with only a few smaller towns, most of which were spread days apart. When the coming war began, they expected minor trouble—if any—from the Dunkels.

Yet of late, news out of the Noeth was the only news Varius was getting. The west had gone quiet. Though no one else seemed bothered by the lack of news, he wondered if things hadn’t become too quiet.

With a sigh, Varius sat up, reread the letter he’d just finished, then folded it into an envelope and set his seal to it. Done with the day’s correspondence, he lifted a slight bell and rag it to summon a porter.

—and since he refused to take the when seen his duties and responsibilities was a tired and distracted man ever since his uncle disappeared, and he was forced to take on the greater responsibilities of the duchy

“Yes, lord?” the boy asked as he looked up at Varius with a serious look on his face.

"Morning, young Wammet,” Varius said as he held out the sachel of letters. “See these to the runners,” he smiled.

Wammet took the satchel and bowed. Varius smiled and waved for one of his guards to escort the boy. The guard took the corner as Varius turned back to the window. The guard gave a shout, causing the Duke Apparent to turn to the hallway. He saw the guard back and go for his sword., but he was cut down. His other guard, Clemmins, a distant cousin and fairly talented youth, grabbed for his sword, only to find himself rapidly pushed back and cut down by several intruders. Varius went for the pistol musket he’d set on the edge of his desk. He pulled the weapon, aimed it at the man nearest, and fired. The ball struck the man’s stomach. He reeled and fell, as he sucked air.

Clemmins fell, and three intruders turned on Varius as he pulled his sword from its scabbard. One of them held Wammet by the collar of his shirt as the other two pointed muskets at the Duke Apparent.

Trapped behind his desk, Varius decided to try talking. “What do you want?” Quite sure he already knew.

“You,” the first man smirked. “Dead,” he added, and pulled the trigger of the musket.

Thunder Maker bellowed her unique and familiar tone and flung death at the Duke Apparent. Varius threw himself back in hopes of dodging the shot—but he could already feel the ball splitting skin, muscle, and bone as it ripped through his chest. Funny, he thought, I don’t feel a thing.

And then the pain was overwhelming as Varius slumped on the floor and stared up at his assassins. He couldn’t catch his breath. He tried to sit up. He tried to roll onto his arm. He could barely turn his head as the laughing intruders dragged his screaming cousin from the room.

The one stayed—that one that shot him. He nudged the duke, and when Varius made the mistake of opening his eyes, the man stuck a knife in his heart. Varius jerked, and then he had nothing. The darkness overcame him, as Garf turned and stepped lightly after his confederates. "We did it!" Garf called after his men. "We killed the pretender!"

Lilyanah and Hazle heal Cairn and the other two men that suffer the rot. Afterward, Lilyanah tells Hazle of Brankellus, then goes in search of the ghost. Meanwhile Cairn goes west, looking for the shaman that he blames for Brough’s death. He carries Haddie’s Revenge.

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