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[Dwarmin]

Issak nodded, but he didn't truly register the man as anything but another stranger. Hardly better then the Prestoners, in his own opinion. Just another foreign vulture looking for meat to pick off the bone...though, a vulture with a nice pedigree, he reflected. How much that would exactly count for in the new order remained to be seen.

"Thanks. I do tend to inspire competence..." he said dryly. "I just tell them which direction to fire in, though. It's the men that do the hard work. And the dying. I agree the men could use a bit of rest, after we police the battlefield. I could use a bit of rest myself."

[Ardas]

To thee, oh sweet Freedom, now I sing...

Princess Erika

The smoke on the battlefield did not dissipate easily, dirty clouds smelling of sulphur and coal hanging over the fields, with the slums and various buildings burning around them. The battlefield itself was a mess of burned and mangled bodies, dying men and alive soldiers, which broke ranks and pursued the escaping foes or set upon the dying ones to either take them to the sisters or take them to the other side.

Orders form Erika flew fast and her trusted lieutenants, Marson, Halley, Ipswitch, Fallow and Parley ran off to organize everyone. But the colonels of each regiment and solders themselves already ran to sort everything and everyone out.

As Erika moved through the smouldering ruins of the slums and witnessed the damage the battle caused, she could not help but see that despite the damage, people seemed to be enthusiastic about seeing their own drive off the occupants out. As Erika moves through the town and a cordon of her men forms around her, the crowds on the streets grow.

As she moves on into the centre, the crowds grow thicker and the cheering grows as well. People are looking on from windows and balconies, as the press of people on both sides increase, but they keep the road open. Behind the princess a column of the Elbreth 1st Regiment; at first half-scared rebels, but now marching alongside you, each one of them a veteran willing to give his life for you in an instant. They are feted as well, men tossing their hats up, women throwing their handkerchiefs and flowers to the soldiers, with the air filled with cheering. Some took to waving hand-made flags, that combined blue and red of the old royal flag with the grey-white of the Sheepstead flag in between them, giving an interesting combination of three colours...

As they march, a lone soldier in the back starts to whistle, before rest of his company picks it up. As they whole column starts to whistle as well, the man at the back starts to sing and the rest of the column follows him as well. In not too long the soldiers march singing one of the many patriotic tunes.

Back at home, there lives a little maiden
and she's called Erika.
That girl is my faithful little darling
and my joy, Erika!
When the heather blooms in a reddish purple,
I sing her this song in greeting.
On the heath, there blooms a little flower
and it's called Erika!

The Factor’s Hall, the loathed edifice of the occupation is quickly claimed by the royal forces and set up as quarter for you and your men.

General Terryn enters into the main chambers not too long after the building is claimed. After her, Eel and the other officers file in.

As the chief of staff, she speaks up first, while the adjutants are still milling about, setting up tables, maps and bring in documents. It is a rare occasion where you can see the rather firm woman in a jubilant mood, with a hard to hide smile and somewhat flustered cheeks. The mood was certainly lending itself to everyone by now.

“Your Highness, the city is yours. All Preston troops either fled, or surrendered and are now herded to the Citadel, where they shall be interred until your decision about what to do with them. People on the streets are ecstatic and some minor looting of Prestonian property occurred but it has now mostly died down. There are few people who also want to see you, but I think they can be made to wait for a bit…”

She looked around the chamber, first looking at you, then at the surrounded men, the most loyal and faithful of your inner circle. As you follow her eyes, you notice half-absently that Harroway, your battlemage, is missing. Then, you see  her eyes drift towards the large window, with a door that lead to a front balcony of the building.

“Erika, I think that you have something to say to the people first.”

Jarl Halfdan, in his crude but honest way, took his weapon and raised it high.

“Long Live Erika, Queen of Elbreth!”

A rattle of sabres in the chamber followed, with all officers raising their weapons alongside him.

“LONG LIVE ERIKA! LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!”

Abbess Santaria, Anate Norn, Ssyrith Hassir, General Von Hoffenburg, Isaak Andres

The march through the city is a well-deserved reward for your service and hardships. You follow your Princess closely as you talk with her and amongst each other and you are present during the impromptu acclamation.
The Factor’s Hall is quickly turned into the centre for the temporary government and everyone is given suitable chambers to rest in. 

Johnatan Highmaple

Your stay in Preston jail does not last long. You have not even managed to get accustomed to the cell very well when your stay is interrupted by the entry of Elbrethian soldiers into the city. You are let out after a brief exchange of words and on your way out, you see that the soldiers dragged in a bloodied man in a cavalry uniform and dump him there.

Moments later, you find yourself on the streets, with the city in uproar as Elbrethians marched through and people feted them. Your own unit is not too far behind, and you quickly rejoin them as they enter behind the Elbrethian troops. You learn of the battle, but by the time you get to Factor’s Hall, you are stopped by the throng of people gathered at the plaza in front of the building. Only later after the crowds disperse, you are allowed to enter.

Ryan Hathcock

You are wounded, and you just defended yourself from what looked like a surprised Elbrethian soldier. Moment later, you hear more men approach and surprised shouts. Several muskets appear at the edge of the crater and are aimed at you.

“Look ‘ere boys, this bastard just shot one of our own!”

“We should put a bullet in him right her and now.”

“You heard the orders, no looting or shooting.”

Come on, he just put a hole in one of our own!

“He will get his, let’s haul him out.”

After an ordeal of being carried by the unwilling Elbrethians, you are thrown into a jail cell just as one man in a mercenary coat is being let out. Figures, these people are all bandits and rebels.

You succumb to your wounds however and drift off, only to find yourself tended to by Sisters of the Elbrethian faith. Your injuries take some time to mend but you are not treated unkindly, if with a degree of reserve from them. Not long after, you find yourself on the streets of liberated Sheepstead, with nothing but the shirt on your back, and a cavalry saber at your side.   

End of Prologue.

[Dwarmin]

Issak had needed a barber badly. The only solution was to chop it all off, burned locks and all-before he went off with his men to the best local inn.

He had found himself the next morning, staring at the mirror, in his fairly plush room. A slight hangover-he had celebrated last night, celebrated like he never had before. Though, he recalled he hadn't drunk much. The atmosphere was more than enough to intoxicate, and the company...the scent of a sweet perfume was already fading, however. He was wondering what came next. In truth, he had never given it thought. No time to think of the future when the war was right in your face. Now...the future...was here.

He lay back in his bed, perhaps content just to read or sleep for awhile. To rest. Was it time to rest? Or was it all only beginning? He wondered if the Princess would remember him, and call on him-no doubt she would have a hundred people turning her ear soon enough. There was a country to run now...but, he found himself at a loss at what his role would be in this new order, or even if he would be. Would he be a councilor, sitting in chambers? A general, spreading the blood of Elberth's enemies like so many flowers? An academic, studying Elberth's history-which had so long lay in mystery...Or maybe...he could just go back home. Certainly he had enough stories to buy a lifetime of free drinks, enough respect to marry well and into wealth. He could have the comfortable life he had-before the war, before he was born to the cause-always wanted. He wasn't sure if he wanted that now. He didn't know what he wanted.

He realized he was lost, and could only guess many of his countrymen felt the same. What happens now? He supposed only the Princess knew...they were all relying on her, now...he was relying on her...he was sure she knew. Issak fell asleep then, as only a young man can-with no lingering thoughts or doubts, content it was all going to work out.

[Digital Hellhound]

Anate Norn looked out across Sheepstead from the balcony attached to his small quarters in the Factor's Hall. The city bore heavy wounds from the fighting, and the corpse-pyres still burned. He'd walked across the killing fields in the aftermath like in a daze. Now, he could remember little of what he had seen.

Perhaps it was for the best. He'd not dwell on the past, not now that they'd reached the brink of a new age. Sheepstead - Elbreth! - was just the first step. They'd light fires of liberty across the continent and cast down every tyrant. He knew it would take time, but they could not stop here. Anate only hoped he'd live to see the future he cradled in his imagination.

More present concerns occupied him now. The city was hurt and their grip on the country uncertain, to say the least. He'd see what he could find out - no point going to the Queen empty-handed.

Anate Norn goes around the city, listening to concerns, finding out the most pressing issues for its citizens and trying to improve moods. He also tries to find a working printing press or several to use in the future.

[Playergamer]

Hathcock stumbles into the street, confused. The knight stands unsteadily, eventually steadying himself, and looks down at the saber on his hip. He'd grabbed the sergeant's saber before the other Elbrethians had carried him off, and they hadn't stripped it off of him.

Eventually, he was brought back to reality by the shouting of, presumably, one of many town criers. The crier was yelling that "Queen Erika," the traitor queen, was going to address the public. The knight instinctively snarled, and began to push his way through the crowd. Soon, the knight would make his way to the Factor's Hall, and he'd be in the crowd when the queen spoke.

[Ardas]

Anate Norn goes around the city, listening to concerns, finding out the most pressing issues for its citizens and trying to improve moods. He also tries to find a working printing press or several to use in the future.

[?] The concerns you encounter are negligible and are sunk under a wave of euphoria and takevoer of Preston property, with most people carrying on with their lives, albeit on a higher note and owning their shops and tools, rather than renting them. The only issue you seem to be hearing frequently about is money, but that is one thing that even Erika could not deliver overnight.

Your search for a printing press through the city takes you to places both high and low. During the occupation, printing was a dangerous business to be had by any of the Elbrethians, watched closely by the occupation forces, and so it was mostly in the hands of the Preston merchants and businessmen. That did not mean that the Elbrethians accepted the situations so easily – printing was done in secret locations, with a whole underground industry, supplying the populace with pamphlets, books, newspapers and prayer books. You manage to find one large shop near the market square, which was already taken over by Elbrethians to print Sheepstead Gazette, which you saw being sold by boys on street corners.

A discussion with the men operating the press quickly reveals that they themselves come from a variety of small printing shops and underground newspapers and clubs, most of which had their own facilities, but all of them fairly small or too crude to be used now, hence the takeover. The sole exception was a printing press that was stolen from one of the transports several years ago, set up in the Republican club. Now it was no secret where they were – The Crowned Head Pub, left to their own devices and ignored by the population at large, seemingly unneeded after the royalist revolution.
They also tell you about an industrial press that was abandoned in the Mills, with workers leaving their stations and Prestonian owners fleeing before the battle.

[Dwarmin]

Issak had found his barber, and he was feeling fine that day, despite having his head shaved. It was time to go to work...first, a bit of security. He had men still in the city, most likely recovering from hangovers of various severity. He knew many would be looking forward to going home soon, but he thought some others might like to sign on with him on a good wage...alot of them maybe had seen too much to ever want to go back-they'd want to make a career of it, and Issak was feeling in the mood for promotions and pay raises. A man like himself could always use a bit of muscle.

Action: Issak goes to sort out the men he served with-enlist some of his best men as permanent bodyguards for himself and by extension the queen, and perhaps prepare for others to go home. Inquire about any difficulties or problems they might, for example, need to put past me.

[Ardas]

Action: Issak goes to sort out the men he served with-enlist some of his best men as permanent bodyguards for himself and by extension the queen, and perhaps prepare for others to go home. Inquire about any difficulties or problems they might, for example, need to put past me.

[6] The immediate problems you encounter are mostly sore heads and itching in the trousers - your men are all enjoying themselves in the time off, rejoining their families or settling down. However, all of them know only one trade and that is marching and shooting. All of them are glad to hear that you want them with you, and even to give them a greater privilege of staying close to the queen. Despite being a late addition, the men are caught up in the patriotic fervour, either feeling the Elbrethian spirit as countrymen or willing to make this their new home. A full regiment is ready to stay on with you as a unit under your personal command, even if they were to be a part of regular army; these marauders and free shooters would follow only you.

The single biggest problem you seem to have with them is money. And a lot of it. The few days of rest accumulated each and every one of them debts in forms of gambling, tavern tabs or unhappy ladies that expected more material security from their erstwhile 'liberators'. The total bill to get these men back into a unit totals to 2000 Prestonian piastres (2d).

[Dwarmin]

Issak had given a short speech to his men-quite informal, to give a speech with a beer mug in one hand a woman in your lap.

"Well fellas, truth is-technically we're all unemployed. We won the war." He said, smiling brightly around the room. "We're going to reform the army, of course-set it up professionally, without having to rely on the part timers. We won't have to take civilians anymore...only the true steel. I don't see any reason why all of us shouldn't be in the ground floor. I'll give the Queen your regards-she'll surely want experienced men at arms...and if she doesn't...well, I promise you, our skills won't go to waste."

As he left-nimbly escaping from a blonde haired woman who was still tugging on him-he wondered, though. If Erika rejected him, he'd do...what? Become a mercenary? It wasn't the life he had pictured...but, it was one he knew he could live. He would never fight against his countrymen...but, there were plenty who deserved a good thumping. At decent wages, of course.

He supposed it was time to get in line-Princess Erika would likely be fielding an endless number of complaints, 'friendly' advice, begging for money, and the like. He hoped she would see him...all his life now turned on the whims of a woman he had only seen twice in person.

Action: Seek an audience with Erika

[Iituem]

"Long live Erika!  Long live the Queen!"

The call was picked up by the crowds outside, and Erika held back for a moment from the balcony, closing her eyes and breathing in.

Mother, Father, Erik, Sigurd.

Erika opened her eyes and stepped out onto the balcony.  The roar of the crowd hit her like a tidal wave of sound, staggering her for a moment before she regained her composure.  Out of sheer habit, her eyes ran across the crowd and buildings, quickly scanning for obvious snipers before turning her attention fully to the crowd.  She raised a hand, and it took over half a minute for the crowd's cheers to die down.

"My fellow Elbrethans!" Erika called, years of training projecting her voice across the courtyard without the strain of shouting.  "At last we are free!  Free from the shackles of so many masters, to raise our heads high and say to the world; we shall not be slaves!  We shall never be slaves!"

"Over eight hundred years ago, our ancestors landed on the Mirish Coast fleeing oppression.  Their king, the first Elbrethan, swore an oath to his people by the Cycle and the gods; that he would protect them, that he would provide for them, and that they would prosper.  He bound this oath to himself and his descendants.

"Four hundred years ago the line was broken, and for four hundred years we have laboured in darkness and misery, crushed by the weight of so many who would rule us.  But the freedom we have bought today, a price paid in blood, sweat and tears, brings us back into the light!  The Covenant of Sigurd is restored, and the sun rises on Elbreth once again!

"Take heart, for testing times still lie ahead.  The jealous eyes of the fat bankers of Preston will no doubt turn to our country again, eager to reclaim their prize.  Thieves, and those who take advantage of war and privation, shall no doubt seek to steal the food from our mouths.  The dawn has come, but the light shall be dim before it grows blinding.

"Yet I swear to you, by Sigurd, the gods and the Cycle, we shall prevail!  Elbreth's borders and its people will be protected, our fields and our factories shall provide for the needs of our people, and through faith and enlightenment, Elbreth shall prosper!"

It took a long moment, almost too long, but someone in the crowd took up the cry.

"Elbreth shall prosper!"

Another followed, and another.

"Elbreth shall prosper!"

Then again and again, it rose to the crowd's roar.

"Elbreth shall prosper!"



Queen Erika, first of her name, of the House of Sigurd, stepped back from the balcony into the Factor's chambers, a fire in her eye and with the full bearing of one of the fire queens of antiquity, in the days before the Father landed at Suul.

"Eat, drink and be merry; for come the morning we have work to do, and if my guess is right we will have not enough hands, materiel or money to do it.  Council meeting, nine o'clock in these chambers.  The usual council, and if we're lucky the day after we might even be able to set up a basic court.  Oh, and Hoffenburg?  Can you find that artillery captain, Andre, Anders?  Bring him along, he might be useful.

"Otherwise, basic tasks.  Hoffenburg, if you can get a rundown of our forces, materiel and prisoners, that will be something to start with.  Abbess, we may have to delay the coronation until things are stable, can you and your Sisters spare any women to assess the health of the city as a whole?  Norn, if you can find someone who knows their way around the palace, I'd like an estimate on how much of the treasury we were and were not able to seize.  Hassir, look for a printing press if there are any, and spread your feelers for the usual listeners.  With luck, tomorrow you might have a budget again.  Oh, and figure out how much food is left, I have this horrible feeling we are going to need to trade for grain from Brighthall.  My honoured Jarl, I have no doubt your men will have their own needs you will need to present, feel free to do so in the morning.  General Flavia, can you take soundings and get a feel for how the nobles are feeling, and what they feel owed?"

Convene a Council meeting in the morning.  A formal Council is not yet drawn up, so right now it's just everybody useful.

[Ardas]

Chapter I – Liberty

Autumn 720a...

Several days passed as the celebrations dragged on, and hasty organization of a kingdom followed. If there ever was a difference between freedom and anarchy, you would not be able to tell which one it was if you wandered the streets of Sheepstead – drunk crowds singing and raising their voices in celebration of the queen, boys on corners shouting their throats raw as they sold newspapers, agitators talking to crowds about the future, some talking of freedom and choice, others delivering sermons, praising monarchy and God, thanking for deliverance and condemning everyone that would dare to undermine order.

“Erika…. Your Highness, I have someone who wants to meet you.”

Flavia’s voice rang clear as she entered your chamber, with a man following her. 

He was an elderly fellow, with a beard full of white hair, but his eyes were alive with a glimmer and radiated youthful energy. Wearing an old but clean-pressed suit, he looked like an old teacher from a country school.

“This is Master Filroy. An old … friend of mine. And a teacher. He was also a good friend of your parents. One of the most loyal and reliable contacts in the capital.”

The elderly man, approached and gave you a slight bow, as befitting you and as much as his old bones allowed.

“Humbert will suffice, Flavia. Your Highness, it is an untold joy to see you here, in these circumstances. I am terribly sorry about your family, but I’m certain that they would be equally happy to see you here.”

The old man smiles at you gently and then turns to Flavia.

“The general here and I were in contact regarding everything, and while she prepared the army, I took my time here, to prepare the country for you. It was no easy task, nobility was mostly satisfied to wait and see, but the common folk were waiting on the promised saviour. The first and most pressing issue at hand is the issue of… politics, as she informed me of it.”

General Terryn rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath.

“Figures, these leeches would be at it…”

Humbert mostly ignored her and carried on. ”When asked, Flavia turned to me, I hope this is not an imposition. The Elbrethian nobility, despite their reluctant cooperation with the occupation forces have rallied in most of the country after the news of your victory and drove out the remaining Preston magistrates out of the towns and manors. The country is mostly under control and we can trust them to maintain order for the time being. Local government was taken over by them or delegated to local town councils.
At the moment they are satisfied with everything ,especially the fact that they don't have to follow any external forces, and expect you to give them... the same amount of freedom they have now. They are garnering their feudal dues and minor taxes, which were usually going to the government. There are three... groups so to speak - not formal parties or clubs, but they tend to favour certain ideas about the country and as such, tend to be wary of each other. They expect to see you and address them in person, but before that is done, it would help to know, what kind of government you are planning to have.”

Flavia chimed in again. “I know you are happy with me to run your military staff, but I am also happy to step down if you feel that you need me elsewhere. You might not know Master Fil.. that is Humbert very well, so if you decide to form a government with your other followers, we will oblige.”

Humbert took over again. “There is a matter of your coronation as well, and the royal residence, if to mention the two most pressing concerns. You can either become a queen through an acclamation, where gathered nobles and representatives of the commoners would proclaim you queen and swear fealty, or we could hold a fully-fledged coronation, in presence of clerics and priests, that would crown you and proclaim you a ruler by the divine right of your blood and God’s will.”

“You can imagine what would go down better with either side,” said Flavia.

“Indeed, the style with which you carry yourself would determine your support base. Either you place your trust in the nobles, or we hold a ceremony that would solidify your image with the people. There is nothing saying that you can’t garner their support later, albeit it might be more difficult.”

“I say we give those blueblood bastards the smell of our muskets and crown you. It’s the people who did all the work!”

“My Flavia, you mustn’t forget that Erika… forgive me, our Princess, is to become the ruler of all of Elbreth, not only a part of it. Besides, afterwards, we need to choose, whether this building will be the royal residence, or the old Citadel. While The Factor’s Hall is an already existing building and has all the amenities and furnishings for a government, these aren’t exactly Elbrethian, and truly fitting for a royalty either.”

“Yeah, I’d say so myself, but the Citadel... I saw it Humbert, it’s a ruin. An old castle with drafty halls, holes in the roof and most of it was converted into weapon stores. I know that this is where kings of old were, but it needs total rebuilding. Or we simply build a new palace on the hill instead.”

Humbert only smiled.

“Your Highness, I know this is a lot to decide, and I know that rushing in either case would be a bad idea. Decide at your pleasure.”

[Playergamer]

Hathcock listens to the Queen's speech quietly, raising an eyebrow a few times in disbelief, before turning and walking away as it ends.

"Just a bunch of rubbish for the commoners. I'm not even sure why I listened."

As he walks out of the square, however, an interesting sight catches his eye. A handful of Elbrethian infantrymen seem to be prodding along a crowd of prisoners, mostly Prestoner infantrymen, leading them towards another part of the city. The knight glances around, making sure nobody is watching him, before casually following the prisoner column, waiting to see where the Elbrethians are holding their prisoners.

Find out where the Prestoner prisoners of war are being held.

[Taricus]

After he Elbrethian rebel's victory, Adrian got to work quickly going through the damaged factories, assessing the damage caused by the riots. If the factories in question were to ever start up again, they'd need a lot of effort put into them. Of course, he had a second motive; if he could also recover the documents and deeds to the factories he'd no doubt have control over every factory in Elbreth, and the ability to improve and manage their equipment.

Adrian starts inspecting the factories in sheepstead, examining the damage done during the siege and the impact the damage would face on factory operations. He also takes the time on the side to try recovering any documents pertaining to the ownership of them, or the deeds themselves.

[Ghazkull]

Hathcock

You follow casually, pretending to be just a random citizen and really it doesn't seem like anybody cares even if they would notice you. The column is marched past the city walls, through the slums and finally out towards an encampment on a hill where Elbreths Artillery was originally positioned. You stop by the last houses of the city and take in the encampment. You notice the coat of arms of the Eel...they have been brought to the Weylandish Camp.

[Iituem]

Erika bowed to Humbert, only slightly more deeply than he had.  Respectful, but not obviously deferent.

"Your conscientiousness is an example to us all, Master Filroy.   General Flavia, of course I wish you at my side, and when things are more stable I hope to have your company often.  Master Filroy, will you accept for now merely a position as my advisor?  When things are settled I shall hope to find a position more suited to yourself, but I fear that political needs will stay me from making an appointment just yet.

"I will consult with my council as to the coronation.  I have a preference in mind, but on such a significant matter I must listen to my advisors.  You are of course always invited to council, for you know much of this country better than I at present."  Erika gave a wan smile.  "Might I ask for a brief summary of these... parties of nobles?  I would prefer not to meet them uninformed.

"As for the royal residence, tradition is the foundation upon which we are to build the new Elbreth, especially if we are to engage in such changes and reforms as we will need to bring our nation to stand amongst the modern realms of this age.  I would strongly prefer the castle, but I will await a report of the treasury before making a decision as to whether to move in.  In any case, most likely we should sell this residence's belongings and reuse it as something else.  I hardly want to take up residence in the hall of our former masters."


At Council

Erika swept into the Factor's old office where her council were for the most part already ready and waiting around the round table, now stacked with documents and bearing a richly detailed map of Elbreth (which currently still had the notation 'Terr. of Preston' by the country name).  Erika had adopted something akin to her military uniform, but cut in a lighter fashion and clearly meant for indoors rather than the  field.  Behind her trailed a rather similar-looking red-headed girl in Erika's actual military uniform, with her hair dressed the same way.  This, then, would be the Sister who was serving as bodyguard/decoy.

"Lords, ladies, gentlemen," Erika greeted them.  "Congratulations, this is the first day of a new era.  I expect that there will be all sorts of problems for us to sort out.  I would have each of your reports, and any matters you wish to bring up.  Additionally, I seek your counsel on a matter of subtle importance.

"As we all know, the sooner I am crowned the better.  My advisor, Master Filroy," Erika gestured, "a faithful friend of my family, informs me that there are two coronation ceremonies that can happen - and even if both occur, one must take precedence over the other.  The first option is an acclamation, where each lord of the realm will kneel before me and swear fealty.  This is how my ancestor Erik, the last king of Elbreth, was crowned, and will strengthen our ties with the landed lords.  The alternative is a full coronation, headed by Grand Abbess Santaria, who will crown me in the name of the gods and the Cycle.  This would complete the myth we are building about the return of the promised line of kings and was the manner in which Sigurd, founder of Elbreth, was crowned.  Either would be suitably traditional, but I seek all your counsel on this matter before deciding."

One by one, Erika invites her Council to report.