[Wild Roses] Trickwood Unification
Title: the spider's den
'Verse/characters: Trickwood Unification; Baron Black Rocks and five guests, including the lady Baroness Sidonie Two Rivers
Prompt: 03F: "subtle"
Word Count: 1827
Notes: Apparently before finishing the Two Rivers sequence, I need to give context and introduce several other of the players involved. (By which I mean I opened up the Two Rivers document on my computer and this very urbane voice informed me that none of them--neither his five guests nor he himself--really wanted to be here. Ladies and gentlemen, Baron Temir Black Rocks. o.O; )
No promises on this being entirely readable, I'm obliged to note--I haven't written in a good five months.
Between, I think, can't kill it with fire, so-- and waiting for the yelling to stop.
---------
None of them wanted to be here. Even Temir didn't really want to be sharing his council chamber with five of his rivals, and he was at least in his own keep. But there they all were, four barons and two baronesses, all gathered at his politely-phrased request and drinking his second-flush wine.
Temir Vidar, by grace of quick reflexes and sound judgement in allies Baron of the Black Rocks, ran down his mental checklist one more time. Everyone had divested themselves of entourage and weapons in the antechamber, generally handing off the latter to the former, and the first round of drinks were gradually giving way to the second. No-one was drinking too fast, though Riain Seven Mills kept sneaking glances at Temir with a chiding, amused curl to his mouth. Temir refrained from rolling his eyes in reply; Riain would not be laying hands on Temir's first-flush wine until such time as he remembered to drink it with the dignity appropriate to the occasion. His cellarmaster still winced whenever a boat flying a Seven Mills banner entered the harbour.
The three newest lords in the room were Sidonie Two Rivers, who'd come out of nowhere to claim the Two Rivers keep less than five years ago, Nölke Falcons' Ridge, who'd supplanted his uncle a decade ago, and Riain himself, who was among the best pirates Temir had ever had the dubious pleasure of watching at his work. He'd tried for Black Rocks before he'd succeeded at what had then been Three Mills, and nearly the whole of his barony's fifth mill was built of stone he'd bartered from Temir. They'd been grudging friends since. Riain was confidant that Temir couldn't capture enough of the rivers between their respective baronies to make a try for Seven Mills, no matter the prestige of managing to capture a blossoming district, and Temir was counting on that very blossoming to keep Riain distracted for at least another few years.
If his suspicion was correct about her history, Sidonie Two Rivers was a thus-far much less impressive casting from Riain's model. Lucky enough to take Rasmus' keep from him while the old man was contentedly letting the traffic from his rivers feed him like a lazy spider in a web, but not lucky enough to have the support network that would allow her to travel with any sort of ease. She'd arrived very nearly late, and had said she'd be departing among the earliest. Her clothing was just a little too expensive for Temir's council chamber, an edge too much golden embellishment in Black Rocks' cool steel- and stone-coloured spaces. Temir was still debating whether that was a celebration of Two Rivers' bountiful trader-supplied riches and warm-coloured building stones or a pirate's celebration of her current wealth.
Once he'd seen that she'd brought not only her own but her second-in-command and his entourage as well, Temir had politely asked Philip Gellandi to refrain from softening up her defenses while she was a guest at Black Rocks. Not out of any sort of respect or fellow-feeling for the baroness, but because Two Rivers was very uncomfortably close to the disturbance in their normally tranquil waters, and Temir took the view that the harder the targets, the better. Sidonie would have a difficult enough time defending her keep if she couldn't trust her second not to take it from her while she was away. Asking her to successfully hold her ground against Philip and the man rumour was currently calling Ingólfr was like expecting a boy of ten to bring down a manticore. Possible, but unlikely.
Nölke Falcons' Ridge was a bit of a cypher, still, to which Temir had to give grudging respect to the man's subjects. Ordinarily, between trader-gathered stories and delegations' spying, Temir knew a rival's favourite foods and best weapons long before either stepped into the other's keep. And yet here was Baron Falcons' Ridge drinking Temir's second-flush golden with no evidence of anything but politeness on his face. The only flash of colour in his clothes that weren't directly Falcons' Ridge as well were the rubies winking from a ring on his left hand and his earrings. He and Sidonie made a rather entertaining visual contrast.
They were here because they held the currently most at risk districts, if rumour held anything like truth. Riain was here because he was Riain. As to the other two, Temir was a little astonished Mireille Seachnall and Evan Vellamo had not only replied to his invitations but had actually attended. Vellamo's territory bordered one of the hidden seas: every battle he'd fought in the last forty years had come out of the water, not down from the forest. And Seachnall . . well. With the highest respect, Mireille Seachnall was a territorial bitch fit to rival any dragon and she commanded a fort that Riain had theorised over Temir's poor abused first-flush wine was an old mage's tower. If anyone had tried to take her fort from her recently, no one had come back downriver to report it.
And with all of that in mind, and remembering that if left too long to her own devices Mireille Seachnall might well begin the conference, despite being nearly two weeks' travel from her own keep, Temir smiled at his guests and invited them to join him at his greatest map-table.
The table was old, inherited from Temir's grandfather Serik, and built in the blocky, no nonsense fashion of all the man's relics. The chairs surrounding the table weren't as old, the originals looted by Temir's great-uncle in the confusion after Serik's death, but they'd been built heavily enough to match the table. Great-Aunt Sheker had seen to that, along with her half-brother when he'd tried to come back for the keep to go with his chairs.
Like most of Sheker's relics, the chairs had subtle teeth. The chair meant for the baron was adorned with blacked steel, to echo the name of the barony, and Temir settled into it, not even bothering to expect that the maps would be oriented towards him. Riain took the chair to Temir's right with no hesitation, smiling at Mireille as she grudgingly took the chair to Temir's left. Temir hadn't even realised that the seats next to his were adorned with lions and the suggestive sweep of a bixie's wing, and made a mental note to compliment the man who'd arranged the room even as he hid a smile. Evan settled into the griffin-finialed chair to Mireille's left with the ease of a man who'd slept soundly in hurricane winds and fought griffins in spring. Nölke, to Temir's mild surprise, nodded politely to Riain as he claimed the chair to Riain's right, leaning back into the embrace of the trees felted into the shape of the cushion.
Which left Sidonie--who'd hesitated over her choice just a beat too long--the chair across from Temir, the one carved to resemble Ilmarinen Pass along the top of the chair and thickly felted in glacier colours on the seat and back. The chair clashed horribly with her clothes, and she seemed to know it. Temir caught her subtly squirming in the seat before her hands came up to rest atop the table, fingers laced together in an imitation of ease.
Temir gave her the benefit of the doubt and spread the maps out. "These have been amended as of the last trading convoy," he stated, letting Riain and Evan tug several of the sheets towards themselves for closer looks, "and my last message to Dardan Riverbirch came back with a note from someone who signed himself Geoffrey, no district-name, asking for copies of the contracts Riverbirch and Black Rocks held in common."
"I assume you didn't send them," Nölke Falcons' Ridge replied, leaning forward slightly to examine the map Riain was holding.
"Only the ones that held Riverbirch at disadvantage," Temir said, smiling.
Mireille Seachnall snorted through her nose, then leaned forward herself, tugging at a map a layer down. The one that showed the extent of the disturbance, Temir noted, and lifted the edge of his hand to let her have it.
"That's," she murmured as the map emerged into plain view, her tone shading to disbelief, "rather larger than I'd expected."
Evan inclined his head to look over her shoulder, one brow lifting, then snorted himself. "Not half-bad work, for coming out of Tall Pines. Is that shading accurate?" he inquired of Temir, pointing to the inconvenient section of Ilmatar Ridge, where bold yellow crosshatching indicated not only the western side of the ridge, and the river it ran along, but the eastern side as well, and the river that ran along. Lucan Ilmatar's keep was planted at the only connection between the two rivers on his ridge, and the yellow shading didn't even approach the canal system.
"Lucan's traffic is a third what it should be for the time of year," Sidonie Two Rivers answered unexpectedly, landing the words neatly into the space where Temir had drawn breath to speak. "He asked if I'd poached his traders. I told him no," she shrugged, a minute lift of her shoulders that shivered the ribbons suspended from the coils of her hair, "since my traffic's barely up from where it was last year, but there are goods showing up in my traffic that should have his stamp, and don't."
Mireille Seachnall threw the much younger woman a slightly poisonous glance, then reached into the spacious crevasse of her left sleeve, pulled something out and set it down gently on top of the yellow-hatched map. "One of mine bought these off a trader," she remarked, and it was only knowing her reputation that warned Temir into moving his hand away from hers.
'These' turned out to be a compact dye brick in a russet-red that would probably dye to a brilliant harvest red--unusual for that much dye to be available anywhere north of Ilmatar or Ilmarinen, let alone out in Seachnall--and a carved wooden chip, thumb-polished to a soft gold. The carving was shaped like a seal, surprisingly, one of the sort that demanded a thumbprint in golden ink or blood instead of a signature, and the framing incisions had been filled with something that looked like coloured wax.
"What is that?" Riain demanded, and Mireille smiled a wintry smile and pressed her thumb straight down into the space designed for it, pressing both the chip and the map it lay on into the heavy underlying table.
Gold blossomed in four or five places, neatly skirting several accustomed checkpoints along the barons' networks, and came to rest across a mountain pass that Lucan Ilmatar's predecessor had given up defending due a entrenched wyvern infestation.
Everyone blinked at the table.
Mireille stopped pressing her thumb into the chip, and the lines faded off the map.
"Well," Sidonie remarked into the slightly stunned silence, "that explains Lucan's traffic problem."
'Verse/characters: Trickwood Unification; Baron Black Rocks and five guests, including the lady Baroness Sidonie Two Rivers
Prompt: 03F: "subtle"
Word Count: 1827
Notes: Apparently before finishing the Two Rivers sequence, I need to give context and introduce several other of the players involved. (By which I mean I opened up the Two Rivers document on my computer and this very urbane voice informed me that none of them--neither his five guests nor he himself--really wanted to be here. Ladies and gentlemen, Baron Temir Black Rocks. o.O; )
No promises on this being entirely readable, I'm obliged to note--I haven't written in a good five months.
Between, I think, can't kill it with fire, so-- and waiting for the yelling to stop.
---------
None of them wanted to be here. Even Temir didn't really want to be sharing his council chamber with five of his rivals, and he was at least in his own keep. But there they all were, four barons and two baronesses, all gathered at his politely-phrased request and drinking his second-flush wine.
Temir Vidar, by grace of quick reflexes and sound judgement in allies Baron of the Black Rocks, ran down his mental checklist one more time. Everyone had divested themselves of entourage and weapons in the antechamber, generally handing off the latter to the former, and the first round of drinks were gradually giving way to the second. No-one was drinking too fast, though Riain Seven Mills kept sneaking glances at Temir with a chiding, amused curl to his mouth. Temir refrained from rolling his eyes in reply; Riain would not be laying hands on Temir's first-flush wine until such time as he remembered to drink it with the dignity appropriate to the occasion. His cellarmaster still winced whenever a boat flying a Seven Mills banner entered the harbour.
The three newest lords in the room were Sidonie Two Rivers, who'd come out of nowhere to claim the Two Rivers keep less than five years ago, Nölke Falcons' Ridge, who'd supplanted his uncle a decade ago, and Riain himself, who was among the best pirates Temir had ever had the dubious pleasure of watching at his work. He'd tried for Black Rocks before he'd succeeded at what had then been Three Mills, and nearly the whole of his barony's fifth mill was built of stone he'd bartered from Temir. They'd been grudging friends since. Riain was confidant that Temir couldn't capture enough of the rivers between their respective baronies to make a try for Seven Mills, no matter the prestige of managing to capture a blossoming district, and Temir was counting on that very blossoming to keep Riain distracted for at least another few years.
If his suspicion was correct about her history, Sidonie Two Rivers was a thus-far much less impressive casting from Riain's model. Lucky enough to take Rasmus' keep from him while the old man was contentedly letting the traffic from his rivers feed him like a lazy spider in a web, but not lucky enough to have the support network that would allow her to travel with any sort of ease. She'd arrived very nearly late, and had said she'd be departing among the earliest. Her clothing was just a little too expensive for Temir's council chamber, an edge too much golden embellishment in Black Rocks' cool steel- and stone-coloured spaces. Temir was still debating whether that was a celebration of Two Rivers' bountiful trader-supplied riches and warm-coloured building stones or a pirate's celebration of her current wealth.
Once he'd seen that she'd brought not only her own but her second-in-command and his entourage as well, Temir had politely asked Philip Gellandi to refrain from softening up her defenses while she was a guest at Black Rocks. Not out of any sort of respect or fellow-feeling for the baroness, but because Two Rivers was very uncomfortably close to the disturbance in their normally tranquil waters, and Temir took the view that the harder the targets, the better. Sidonie would have a difficult enough time defending her keep if she couldn't trust her second not to take it from her while she was away. Asking her to successfully hold her ground against Philip and the man rumour was currently calling Ingólfr was like expecting a boy of ten to bring down a manticore. Possible, but unlikely.
Nölke Falcons' Ridge was a bit of a cypher, still, to which Temir had to give grudging respect to the man's subjects. Ordinarily, between trader-gathered stories and delegations' spying, Temir knew a rival's favourite foods and best weapons long before either stepped into the other's keep. And yet here was Baron Falcons' Ridge drinking Temir's second-flush golden with no evidence of anything but politeness on his face. The only flash of colour in his clothes that weren't directly Falcons' Ridge as well were the rubies winking from a ring on his left hand and his earrings. He and Sidonie made a rather entertaining visual contrast.
They were here because they held the currently most at risk districts, if rumour held anything like truth. Riain was here because he was Riain. As to the other two, Temir was a little astonished Mireille Seachnall and Evan Vellamo had not only replied to his invitations but had actually attended. Vellamo's territory bordered one of the hidden seas: every battle he'd fought in the last forty years had come out of the water, not down from the forest. And Seachnall . . well. With the highest respect, Mireille Seachnall was a territorial bitch fit to rival any dragon and she commanded a fort that Riain had theorised over Temir's poor abused first-flush wine was an old mage's tower. If anyone had tried to take her fort from her recently, no one had come back downriver to report it.
And with all of that in mind, and remembering that if left too long to her own devices Mireille Seachnall might well begin the conference, despite being nearly two weeks' travel from her own keep, Temir smiled at his guests and invited them to join him at his greatest map-table.
The table was old, inherited from Temir's grandfather Serik, and built in the blocky, no nonsense fashion of all the man's relics. The chairs surrounding the table weren't as old, the originals looted by Temir's great-uncle in the confusion after Serik's death, but they'd been built heavily enough to match the table. Great-Aunt Sheker had seen to that, along with her half-brother when he'd tried to come back for the keep to go with his chairs.
Like most of Sheker's relics, the chairs had subtle teeth. The chair meant for the baron was adorned with blacked steel, to echo the name of the barony, and Temir settled into it, not even bothering to expect that the maps would be oriented towards him. Riain took the chair to Temir's right with no hesitation, smiling at Mireille as she grudgingly took the chair to Temir's left. Temir hadn't even realised that the seats next to his were adorned with lions and the suggestive sweep of a bixie's wing, and made a mental note to compliment the man who'd arranged the room even as he hid a smile. Evan settled into the griffin-finialed chair to Mireille's left with the ease of a man who'd slept soundly in hurricane winds and fought griffins in spring. Nölke, to Temir's mild surprise, nodded politely to Riain as he claimed the chair to Riain's right, leaning back into the embrace of the trees felted into the shape of the cushion.
Which left Sidonie--who'd hesitated over her choice just a beat too long--the chair across from Temir, the one carved to resemble Ilmarinen Pass along the top of the chair and thickly felted in glacier colours on the seat and back. The chair clashed horribly with her clothes, and she seemed to know it. Temir caught her subtly squirming in the seat before her hands came up to rest atop the table, fingers laced together in an imitation of ease.
Temir gave her the benefit of the doubt and spread the maps out. "These have been amended as of the last trading convoy," he stated, letting Riain and Evan tug several of the sheets towards themselves for closer looks, "and my last message to Dardan Riverbirch came back with a note from someone who signed himself Geoffrey, no district-name, asking for copies of the contracts Riverbirch and Black Rocks held in common."
"I assume you didn't send them," Nölke Falcons' Ridge replied, leaning forward slightly to examine the map Riain was holding.
"Only the ones that held Riverbirch at disadvantage," Temir said, smiling.
Mireille Seachnall snorted through her nose, then leaned forward herself, tugging at a map a layer down. The one that showed the extent of the disturbance, Temir noted, and lifted the edge of his hand to let her have it.
"That's," she murmured as the map emerged into plain view, her tone shading to disbelief, "rather larger than I'd expected."
Evan inclined his head to look over her shoulder, one brow lifting, then snorted himself. "Not half-bad work, for coming out of Tall Pines. Is that shading accurate?" he inquired of Temir, pointing to the inconvenient section of Ilmatar Ridge, where bold yellow crosshatching indicated not only the western side of the ridge, and the river it ran along, but the eastern side as well, and the river that ran along. Lucan Ilmatar's keep was planted at the only connection between the two rivers on his ridge, and the yellow shading didn't even approach the canal system.
"Lucan's traffic is a third what it should be for the time of year," Sidonie Two Rivers answered unexpectedly, landing the words neatly into the space where Temir had drawn breath to speak. "He asked if I'd poached his traders. I told him no," she shrugged, a minute lift of her shoulders that shivered the ribbons suspended from the coils of her hair, "since my traffic's barely up from where it was last year, but there are goods showing up in my traffic that should have his stamp, and don't."
Mireille Seachnall threw the much younger woman a slightly poisonous glance, then reached into the spacious crevasse of her left sleeve, pulled something out and set it down gently on top of the yellow-hatched map. "One of mine bought these off a trader," she remarked, and it was only knowing her reputation that warned Temir into moving his hand away from hers.
'These' turned out to be a compact dye brick in a russet-red that would probably dye to a brilliant harvest red--unusual for that much dye to be available anywhere north of Ilmatar or Ilmarinen, let alone out in Seachnall--and a carved wooden chip, thumb-polished to a soft gold. The carving was shaped like a seal, surprisingly, one of the sort that demanded a thumbprint in golden ink or blood instead of a signature, and the framing incisions had been filled with something that looked like coloured wax.
"What is that?" Riain demanded, and Mireille smiled a wintry smile and pressed her thumb straight down into the space designed for it, pressing both the chip and the map it lay on into the heavy underlying table.
Gold blossomed in four or five places, neatly skirting several accustomed checkpoints along the barons' networks, and came to rest across a mountain pass that Lucan Ilmatar's predecessor had given up defending due a entrenched wyvern infestation.
Everyone blinked at the table.
Mireille stopped pressing her thumb into the chip, and the lines faded off the map.
"Well," Sidonie remarked into the slightly stunned silence, "that explains Lucan's traffic problem."