While Tercor was stunned with Lady Edda and her ability to silence the room, Urik took the opportunity to recapture command.
"All you gathered are long since aware of why you've been called... our borders in the southwest, in the foothills of Lommán, have been invaded. To give you further explanation: during last twilight a contingent of coalition forces cut a swath through our realm, we received only minimal reports from the border guard before they went quiet. Half a dozen or more villages and towns were butchered and put to the torch."
At Urik's words the room grew dark. Those gathered had known of the event, but had not known the extent of, or brutal outcome of what happened. Most faces grew enraged, praying to the dēwos they may behead the invaders themselves. Especially Aistulf, whose vitriol towards Urik and Tercor subsided for now, replaced by fury at the scum that dared to cut down his kin.
Some of the figures became hollow, most being the Elders or High Warriors that had experienced the grips of war; those whom had remembrance of the terrors and viciousness of desperate men in desperate circumstances. Gwellain was amongst them, Tercor noticed his face had aged more than this morning, a shallow patina of fatigue settling into his features. Urik carried on.
"Accordingly I sent out a punitive force to combat the sudden enemy thru Vegr-Gang. I decided immediate action was required, our border guard had gone silent... it was then, that both Lady Edda and I learned of four things."
"Firstly was the fact that these enemies were indeed a coalition force's invasion. The invaders being of the sister city-states of Svaldin and Jandmaar; states that have been skirmishing us the past years over border claims. None of those skirmishes were remotely to this scale however."
"Second was to what scale their invasion force truly was... I said 'contingent' earlier but that undercuts the breadth of their forces. They fielded a full, unified legion; 60,000 men or more. This... this is the reason I've been calling it an invasion force."
Even Tercor, who had only studied the history of warfare and never witnessed it firsthand, knew exactly what this meant. For a legion to be fielded, especially one of a coalition force, implied they had grander designs than the slaughter of a few villages. To provoke the mighty warring nation of Elledora to this scale was foolhardy for city-states, even ones as powerful as Svaldin and Jandmaar.
Tercor's brain immediately kicked into focus, something he attributed to his enjoyment of formal education. Unknown to the others present, he slowly began devising a plan on the information he was being told. It seemed only Lady Edda, her gaze landing on the boy, had some inference of what he was doing: he was her sole pupil, and she was ever attentive.
"Third is in regards to the punitive force... with the worst-case assumption that our border guard had been eliminated in the foothills of Lommán, some 4,000 men posted there, I sent a force doubled. Half gathered here, half raised by the local Neirin clan; both met in Lommán thru Vegr-Gang. At first the reports were good. They located and isolated a force a 3,500 or so, trapping them against the waters of a nearby lakeshore. I sent the Barbr, Theobald, a man of suitable ability to act as commander. With him a Gröman, a magick link to maintain contact..."
"Not an hour later had the punitive force's Gröman sent another report... Theobald the Barbr was beheaded in single combat, and our army swiftly crushed. The Gröman did not escape either; he had sent the magick on orders of the enemy legion under threat of death. He spoke of this, and of an open declaration upon us. Wherein he was routinely beheaded regardless."
Crack
In his seething, blind rage, Aistulf shattered the edge of the table he leaned over. His hands now fists, balled into rage incarnate. Despite the fury, he was disciplined enough to hear out the remainder of Urik's words. Tercor too, was filled with anger. Certainly, he'd long heard of his people dying to famine from years past or even the occasional killer at large or monster on spree, but for death of this scale? Of his own people? It stirred something within himself he had never felt before. Slowly, a visceral rage began to grow.
"Fourth is in regards to the open declaration. As perhaps the first act of their declaration of open war, they rapidly marched on the local Neirin clan. The final message from their chief is a heavy blow to us all... the lower clan of Neirin has gone extinct."
Krack
Aistulf could no longer contain himself. He walked to the edge of the central room and smashed his fist against the impenetrable stone wall. The wall cracked, spider splinters shooting circular at the impact of Aistulf's fist.
With a sharp, wolf-like gaze he turned to the others in the room. His rage had grown red, his voice sharper and heavier than when he spoke against Urik.
"Those fucking cretins, those cunts will die for this. I will rend the flesh from their FUCKING bones -- I will fly their skins as kites for our children and grind their bones for the smoke of our pipes! We must march on them. There is no decision to make."
It must be said, for all the hatred and disgust Aistulf had for Tercor, Urik, and the Ásvaldr clan; he still considered them his own. They were a repugnant, cancerous tumor that may need removal, but his own nevertheless. For a foreign people to come and slaughter his own was beyond reproach, beyond any form of salvation. His inclement rage only intensified, now arousing others around the table.
"Aye! We'll slaughter the pricks!"
"How dare they kill our people? Have they gone rabid and insane, to attempt to bite at the mountains? High Chieftain Aistulf is right!"
"Not just this legion either, we must march to Svaldin and Jandmaar and execute them all! Every man, woman, and babe must be put to the blade!"
"Kill the fuckers!"
The discussion carried on for the better part of an hour, voices from all sides of the room giving their input as to what should be done.
Most agreed with Aistulf, whom at some point demanded they march tonight, or tomorrow at the latest. They wanted vengeance and they wanted it now. Some others were more reticent. They wished for vengeance certainly, but in a more organized form. Gwellain carried much of that argument in particular, as although he was not of any station overtly respectable, he held great respect from those in the room; something Tercor took note of.
Urik for the most part remained silent, allowing the others their chance to speak. His voice only heard to correct facts or diminish falsities, or on the few occasions, to halt fights from breaking out.
As the hour loomed closer, Urik appeared annoyed. Tercor noticing tense shivers in his hands, a rare thing reserved for when Tercor acted foolish. Urik looked at them with his right-eyelid closed. His left, film covered eye felt odd, even Tercor could not help but shudder. The temperature of the room had risen again, more rapidly this time, as Tercor felt himself beginning to get swept up by the rage as well. Still, the shiver he felt from his uncle was present in his spine.
"Silence!"
With the single word of admonishment, everyone in the room, aside from Aistulf himself, quieted down. The anger and fervor for blood was still present however.
"You would tell us to be silent? By dēwos Urik, have you gone mad? It is clear that we will reclaim blood shed for blood spilled!"
Aistulf yelled with a vicious roar, sharpening his glare on Urik. Depending on what would come from his mouth, he may cut down his fellow High Chieftain here and now; his status be damned.
In an act of stonewalling Aistulf, Urik ignored his words. Urik was furious at what happened, what person wouldn't be, but he long knew of the happenings of war.
"It would seem your eagerness for blood and iron has clouded your memories... have you all forgotten the last war? Of the toll we paid in our haste and ignorance? We will go to war, that much is certain, our hand has already been forced on the matter; but we will not rush in like the enraged boar to the trap and slaughter!"
Beginning to understand Urik's point, some of the faces around the table grew calmer, not entirely subdued of their rage but certainly attentive. Aistulf listened as well, his hand moving off his sword with the understanding that Urik also called for war. In cold rage Urik carried on, his speech soon chilled the room.
"For the sake of the ancestors, think, you brainless mongrels! They were able to raze the clan of Neirin in less than a day, yet the foothills of Lommán are more than three days by mount... for anyone to move so vast a distance so soon, especially for a legion, means only a single thing. A single, harsh truth. There is a traitor in our people, or perhaps even here, that opened the Vegr-Gang and allowed the legion to butcher our kin."
Almost everyone was astounded. Such simple logic and they missed it in their violent fervor. Few, mostly Shamans and elders, had already realized such a thing; long since watching the reactions of the others at Urik's words.
Gwellain too, with his sallow face, sharply glared at certain figures in the room. Aside from Lady Edda who had heard it from Urik prior, he was the first to realize this base logic, and he distrusted most in the room from the onset.
Tercor realized this issue when Urik spoke of it as well, long before many of the others had. He began speculating on what exactly this meant for the near-future.
'It seems Uncle spoke with Lady Edda, uncle Gwellain, and some others about this earlier. Many of them do not seem shocked at this; that or they figured it out immediately. This is a very difficult problem... almost every nation in history has had some form of this and many could not escape the clutches of devastation. Even if they survived, it was as shells of their former power. Perhaps our own power will be moved upwards, towards the vetted and trustworthy while the investigation occurs. Hmm, yet that may not work. If we take the warriors and arms of the clans, they may believe it to be a power move to consolidate greater strength towards me, uncle Urik, or even mother's clan.'
'But in a perfect world at least, that's what I would do about a traitor. Make sure only those I know for certain are with me, are with me, as we sift and isolate every name to be placed in the black book.'
A few figures around the table spoke in disbelief. Either they were too good natured to believe a traitor was among them, fools that knew not of what they spoke, or perhaps the traitor themselves. Of those that spoke, two in particular stood out to Tercor.
The first was a well regarded wise Elder from the far Elledoran south, a man that rose to status as an Elder and yet remained clanless: Focrist. The second a rising young Shaman, his name having slowly spread throughout Elledora, his numerous deeds a herald for a new age of Shaman: Fiskaz the Red.
"You're certain High Chieftain? That is a bold accusation for a man so young, even for a man of your station. To think you would be so audacious as to accuse even us present, back in my day..."
"Aye, I agree. We cannot have this looming war in our foothills and a silent war in our own home. How do we know they have not deciphered our magick, or discovered some magick of their own?"
Lady Edda rose from her seat, there being almost no difference in her height. With paced steps she circled the room, her hands finally moved out from under her bear-fur cloak. It seemed she was casting some form of magick, similar to the kind Tercor had seen on his birth celebrations. After a few moments she spoke, walking around the room. Her shriveled hands still in fluid motion, now glimmering in a grey hue.
"Be still children. What this boy Urik speaks is truth. 'Twas a thing I validated of my own accord upon hearing the report from the boy. The Mountains spoke to me of the violation that happened to Her. It was no magick beast or horrid monster, no mount wrangled by the legion, that allowed their movement to be so elusive to our Lady."
"She was violated, with the very key to Her inner body handed to our ancestors long ago. She elucidated me that Vegr-Gang was utilized, and Her parts private were violated. We have allowed a stranger into Her, She is veritably uncertain of our faith. As such our Lady seeks wrath, most critically of all, She seeks for us to prove ourselves once more; as our ancestors did in times past. To present the souls of the stranger to Her, to soak Her grounds wet with crimson, and to enact the Ritual of Smoke."
Tercor was faintly confused. He knew about the Lady of Stone, the Mother of Mountains, the Maiden of Earth; the greatest of all Elledoran dieties. But having only just learned of Vegr-Gang, he was uncertain as to what exactly this "inner body" or "parts private" Lady Edda spoke of was. Especially whatever this "Ritual of Smoke" meant, it was something neighter Lady Edda or his uncle Urik taught him. He had also known of the great epic of Tigernos, the founder of the Ásvaldr clan and supposed savior of the Mother of Mountains.
He quickly hushed those thoughts as Lady Edda seemed complete in her magick. The grey glimmering on her hands turned to whisps of smoke, long tendrils that danced towards everyone present. Not a second later, and with a sickening pop, they clung to the figures in the room.
The moment the smoke touched Tercor's body, he felt as though he was being choked, as if the smoke itself consumed the air in his lungs. His eyes turned bloodshot, thin veins ran rampant across them; his veins burst and left stains across his eyeballs.
You shall become Rīks? A sight for certain...
An all consuming voice brutalized Tercor and his senses. The world turned crimson and dizzying, spinning in circles around him. Tercor's eardrums burst, blood dribbling from his ears and dripping onto his neck and shoulders. He could not focus his sight, and his hearing had just exploded in cacophony around him. He tried to grab the stone chair he sat upon, tried to find some manner to ground himself, but there was no feeling in his arms... rather, he could not control them at all.
Tercor was horrified.
Whatever this demonic being was -- no, this hwyfar -- ripped all control and sense of semblance from the boy. His lungs clawed at his throat, desperate to produce breath. Tercor's mind blanked as it turned to instinct, to find anything in his body to fight this creature. Surprisingly, Tercor's instincts found a solution, and acted immediately.
While unconscious his body forced itself into a bare-handed martial form Urik taught him. His hands formed balled fists, aimed directly for his solar plexus. With strangled speed they attempted to free the lungs of this demon, his muscles and bones in tandem, seemingly personified; somehow aware of this looming death. Once, twice, three times they instinctively pounded Tercor's solar plexus, desperate to invoke air. Again and again he unconsciously pounded at his chest.
How interesting...
Huah haah haa
Tercor panted deeply as the breath returned to his lungs. Aside from his now faintly bloodstained eyes, a thin dribble of blood careened down from his right nostril. His ears had stopped bleeding when he smashed his own chest. The world was still crimson, but it had stopped spinning, and he felt ground beneath his feet.
With a huff he collapsed into the chair, exhausted beyond any past exhaustion he'd ever experienced.
"I despise that it is fact, but you were right... the boy freed himself."
"Uh hah hah hie! Of course, he is my nephew and soon to be Rīks of Elledora!"
Aistulf stood by the table where he had before, his gaze examining the Young Rīks. Tercor looked at him, and then towards the man he spoke to. Urik stood stalwart with a shit-eating grin, his smile from ear-to-ear as he boasted of his nephew. From where he sat, it seemed as though both Aistulf and Urik were entirely unaffected by the smoke. Gwellain and Lady Edda as well, for that matter. The old woman began to cast another hand movement whilst walking around them all.
A moment later and the smoke dispersed. Everyone standing now collapsed to the floor, everyone sitting slouched further into their seats. Some even looked dead, although Tercor could not confirm it after what just transpired.
The figures slowly began awakening, choking on air and heaving lungs. Lady Edda finished her circles and moved towards her seat. Not before walking beside Tercor and whispering hushed words directly into his mind.
"Commendable work, boy."
As Lady Edda sat, Urik, Aistulf, and Gwellain visually inspected each person. Although they did not speak, Tercor could gather they noticed something due to their visage. A few moments of silence passed and it seemed they remainder of the group had finally awoke. Urik moved from Tercor's side and stepped towards the massive timber table.
"Two Chieftains, two Shamans, and a High Warrior... the scum deserve no pity."
Urik's face turned again to rage, no longer the wide smile from just a few moments prior. His gaze landed on a five unmoving individuals; either slumped on the floor or slouched in their seats. Tercor saw that, amongst those dead, were neither the bodies of Focrist or Fiskaz the Red whom he took interest in earlier. They had survived, albeit worn out and panting. Aistulf and Lady Edda spoke in reply, with the former carrying a similar rage induced face as Urik.
"Pathetic cowards. They have disgraced the dēwos and spat upon the ancestors... to think they would sell us out, and with sacred Vegr-Gang at that."
"Indeed... the remaining present have been validated by the Lady. She speaks of more troubling matters however; the five dead here are not the sum total of those who have betrayed us. Others of our ilk still prey on our necks, and they have hidden themselves amongst us well. Furthermore, I have already consumed a great deal of power... it will take a lengthy period for me to recover."
Urik and Aistulf nodded in unison, obedient towards the old woman. Tercor seemed understanding of it, she had shut down their prior argument after all. Although he knew not why she commanded such authority, he was beginning to understand, what with the smoke magick and all.
Aistulf and Urik looked to one another, their anger now steeled. It seemed they were in agreeance to enter the throes of war, what that would look like exactly, had yet to be decided.
"Regardless of the remaining traitors in our midst, we must march on the legion and execute them. I will personally lead the warriors of the Alberich clan, and any others, to slaughter the vermin in our borders. After, we will march on Svaldin and Jandmaar and raze them to ash."
"I disagree Aistulf, we must combat them defensively. Send a legion of warriors, that much I agree with, but keep them within the bounds of Vegr-Gang. Even with traitors on our side and the magick of Vegr-Gang stolen, I refuse to believe that would be enough to persuade Svaldin and Jandmaar into open war. They are simply too small of states, any war, prolonged or otherwise, is a fools errand for them. Perhaps some other nation or kingdom wishes to draw our blade to the southwest, so they may strike at our unprepared backs."
A few minutes of further discussion and the High Chieftains had it placed to a vote. Perhaps it was fate being comical, or destiny pre-ordained, but the room was split equally. Both Urik and Aistulf looked to Lady Edda, as means to cut the tie. She however, looked to Tercor, who was engrossed in mental thought, collecting and organizing everything spoken. He had not even realized the eyes of everyone present was drawn to him, their gazes focuses squarely upon him.
"It shall not be I to decide. Instead, I will grant my voice to the Young Rīks. This matter of war, this shall steel him on his path throughout this life... and shall most certainly inform us of what manner of ruler he is to become. So boy, what is to be your first decision as Rīks? Follow in step with the boy Urik, your kin, or with the boy Aistulf, your greatest cynic?"
Urik gazed at Tercor as well, mistaking his deep thought for unprepared hesitation. He leaned into the boy's shoulder, and whispered into his ear.
"Remember nephew, you need not feel nervous of them. They answer to you, even if you are not yet of age. Whatever your decision, I will go along with, as is your right as Rīks - even if I may personally disagree. Feel safe to speak your mind."
Tercor took this to heart as Urik moved back to his side, his gaze still resting on the boy king. Tercor rewound the conversation an hour or so, recollecting everything said since the beginning of the discussion.
It was no easy decision. It was war after all, and nothing comes easy in war. Especially here, especially now, deciding on Elledora's initial foray into war against Svardin and Jandmaar. To choose one or the other was a heavy burden for a boy so young, even if he held the title of Young Rīks, even if it was something that would soon be expected of him.
He was merely 11 years of age. Yet now he must decide how his people would kill and die; and his people would certainly die. It was simply the price of war... for iron draws blood and blood spilled is iron wrought.
It felt to Tercor that time slowed, that the world itself gave him the leeway to think on such heavy matters.
'Logic maintains that uncle Urik is likely right... there may yet be another foe waiting for our back. Devilish fiends ready to stab us, if they were to be given the opportunity. He is correct in that Svaldin and Jandmaar have no real place in committing open war with us, it is essentially suicide for the city-states. But to act only within our borders... I fear may only inspire further bloodshed. I am certain Aistulf will not heed the decision of the vote if it goes uncle's way, specifically because I'm the one to cut the tie.'
'But... I'm angry too. To sit here and think our people were simply living their lives, only to be butchered... it is too much. To see the horror in the eyes of those from Svaldin and Jandmaar, after what they did to our -- no, no, to my people -- I... I think I would enjoy that. I think I would ejoy that very much. But again, what uncle said may very well hold true...'
'Aaagh! Why did they force me to make the decision? I may be king soon, but I'm not even an adult yet! Dēwos... ancestors, please help me choose...'
In perhaps yet another quirk of fate, for just a moment, the visage of Angharad passed through Tercor's turbulent mind. The girl he seemed to think he just might love... and then another image of her, cut down; her body dashed against the cliffs. After a few moments of thinking, the world seemed to wind back into motion. The gazes of the room locked onto the Young Rīks, with bated breath, just waiting on the outcome.
"I've come to a decision."