After taking some time walking through Kilvidhi's small yet intricate keep, you decide to tour the countryland surrounding the city with your wife, Urhilda. The comfortable warmth and beautiful statues in the keep fail to keep you inside, and the soft autumnal drizzle will not withhold you from going out either. Your wife suggests you tour the outdoor market of the city, as well as several buildings outside the walls: the mill, Saint Bhosart's temple, and the famed Kilvidhi Brewery. You order your horse to be saddled, and with a small entourage of twelve of your best horsemen, you and your wife leave the warmth and shelter of the keep, to explore the city and its surroundings.
As soon as the gates open, you see a crawling mass of people, waiting to catch a glimpse of you. Many of them carry gifts and sacrifices: lavishly decorated figurines, colorful wreathes, handmade tapestries and even live cattle. As your troops clear a way for you, you notice a little girl, carrying a beautifully embroidered tapestry, depicting an idealized version of the marriage between you and your wife. Obviously, she had not seen the wedding itself, as many details were wrong, exaggerated, or missing. Yet the depiction itself was absolutely stunning. The most noticeable change from reality, however, were the silver halos hovering over both the head of Urhilda and yourself. These halos were reserved for saints, not mortal men. Even though no official religious authority had declared you or your wife a saint, the populace had already made up their minds. In the distance, the preaching of an impoverished priest, probably an unofficial zealot, could be heard. His words were indistinguishable, yet the people surrounding him seemed to nod in agreement with every of his sentences.
You rode on, leaving the massive crowd behind. You would have your servants collect the gifts afterwards, keeping the true treasures for yourself whilst selling the lesser ones to one of the caravans that would most likely arrive in spring, after the snow had thawed once more. What you would do with the profit, you would decide once you got back. You could either:
>A1) Keep the profit for yourself and the state. The people had given it out of free will to you, obviously.
>B1) Reinvest the profits in Kilvidhi and the surrounding lands. It would be a noble thing to return the favour and show your gratitude.
>C1) Reinvest the profits in other parts of the country. Kilvidhi is far from the poorest region of your demesne, and other regions could use the gold.
>D1) Other: write in.
After a short journey, you arrive at the large market of Kilvidhi. You are immediately greeted by an extravagantly dressed man, Yumon Kyuvash. Your wife Urhilda introduces the foreigner as the Master of the Market of Kilvidhi, a prestigious title reserved for economic masterminds. You follow him, as he tours you around the market. The stands are beautiful, filled with both expensive wares and common yet necessary goods. From the humongous stacks of autumnal fruits and ripe vegetables on the eastern side, to the large crafts and furniture of the northern side and the intricate and expensive trinkets of the western side. Many stall keepers offered you some of their wares, delighted by your presence. Unable to refuse their offers, as it would be considered a great insult, you had your entourage pack all of it in their saddlebags. The profits would be merged with those of the gifts you had received earlier. Yet there was a single thing you wished to buy yourself. It was:
>A2) A beautifully designed weapon. (Axe/Sword/Spear/Maul/Other)
>B2) Lavish Jewelry for your new wife. (Rings/Necklaces/Earrings/Other)
>C2) A rare pet, either uncommonly tamed or beautifully bred. (Dog/Horse/Bear/Other (non-magical))
>D2) Other: write in.
Content with your purchase, you continued your journey. Your wife had handed sir Kyuvash a written invite to the banquet, so you decided to travel on to your next stop: the mill. It was the stop that least interested you, yet an impressive building of great importance to the local populace. Going there was more of a formality than something of interest to yourself. Your stay was quite uneventful, as the miller, Gudh Gudhson, demonstrated the inner workings of the water-powered mill to you and your wife. You tried to not look bored, and you were incredibly relieved when it finally ended. Still, your wife handed Gudh his own invitation, as the miller would know much about the happenings of the countryside. You quickly got on your horse again, and continued towards Saint Bhosart's temple.
Saint Bhosart was a famous saint who was said to have lived a few centuries ago. Legends told of an elderly man, able to manipulate plants at will. He was said to singlehandedly drown entire armies in seas of writhing thorns, transform his enemies into bushes and build incredible constructions from reshaping the titanic trees he was able to grow within minutes. His legacy had ended however, when an army of Khami raiders, lead by a famous shaman, had surrounded him, whilst disabling his magical powers with a dark hex. The raiders had pushed the frail old man, now without any power, against a large marble rock and pushed seven spears of pure silver through his heart. He quickly perished, yet still released a powerful blast of magic, turning every single soldier in the area into an oak. The site of the sacred rock, and the perfectly circular forest surrounding it, was located about two miles from Kilvidhi, and a large temple had been built in the center of the grove.
As you arrived at the entrance to the temple, the sun was already starting to set. Priests of the Order of Bhosart greeted you, with their long robes woven from the white vines of a local plant. You and your wife respectfully got off your horses and entered the paved path leading into the forest, leaving your entourage behind. In silence you strode, until your reached a clearing in the forest. A beautiful temple stood there, its white slabs of stone brightly shining due to the light of a hundred torches. Other citizens were already waiting outside, some of them praying, others softly whispering to their neighbours. It seemed you had arrived just in time for the Twilight's Sermon held tonight. Many priests littered the premises of the temple, blessing people, caring for the beautiful flowers or praying to the sky. The silver bell in the central tower rung thrice, indicating the ceremony was about to start.
You and your wife were the first to enter the temple, followed by dozens of local nobles and rich citizens. The walls were beautifully engraved, and beautiful statues emerged from the walls. Yet the walls were covered in ivy, and some statues were coated in layers of moss. In the center of the hall, a lone stone stood defiantly, seven small holes in it. On top of the stone stood an old man, wearing the traditional robe of the Order of Boshart. A long, white beard decorated his old face, and his green eyes sparkled with wisdom and knowledge. There was no doubt about it, it had to be Archpriest Dhamus I of the Order of Boshart. A powerful spiritual leader, respected much in the Lands of Kilvidhi. As soon as all visitors were seated, and the noise had died down, he began to speak. The sermon had started.
Spiritually rejuvenated, you left the temple. Urhilda had made sure the Archpriest had been handed an invitation to the banquet, and he had assured her he would be there later tonight. The banquet would be quite late, as it was already dark when you left, and you still had to visit the Kilvidhi brewery. You defiantly rode on, and quickly arrived at the famed brewery. It's liquors and ales were sold all over your lands, whilst its legendary inn usually sheltered travelers from all over the realm - and from outside of it, too. You were welcomed by an assortment of staff, all bowing to you as you entered. The inn's owner, a man named Bhuron, welcomed you, and offered you a warm meal. You politely declined, even though you were quite hungry, as you still had an entire banquet to feast on later tonight. Instead, you opted for a traditional Kilvidhan drink, as your wife strongly recommended it. A herbal liquor, laced with a variety of autumnal tastes was presented to you. You took a nip, yet to your surprise, it was heated! The drink, which was called Bragghon, as your wife mentioned, was made from a variety of fermented herbs and berries, picked in Bhosart's grove. It was a welcome drink, as the drizzle outside had chilled you to the bone. Your stay was quite pleasant, as you chatted with both Bhuron and some of the inn's more important guests: nobles, merchants and a foreign warlord. All of them you'd personally handed an invite, and before long you were on horseback again.
The celebrations were already being held when you arrived, with more guests in tow. Many prominent locals chatted, ate and drank together, whilst a bard played his jolly tune in a corner of the room. As soon as you entered, however, the room fell silent. "What're ye all soilent for, issa party 'ere", you loudly exclaimed, trying to imitate the Kilvidhan dialect halfheartedly. And so, the celebrations continued. You ate, you drank, you danced, but most of all, you talked. You talked to nobles, to priests, to merchants and to warriors. Yet only a single conversation you remembered the following morning, the one with:
>A3) Master of the Market Yumon Kyuvash (Economy, Bourgeoisie)
>B3) Miller Gudh Gudhsson (Agriculture, Peasantry)
>C3) Archpriest Dhamus I (Theology, Clergy)
>D3) Innkeeper Bhuron (International Affairs, Foreigners)
>E3) Another person: write in
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Topic: [SG] Chamdhi Nivula; the life of Grand Jarl Ulric (Read 5366 times)