It was the end of Fire Season and so far north, the sun hardly sank below the horizon. Snow was already beginning to fall during those brief nights, but as yet it did not sit through the day and the fjord was not choked with ice, not quite yet at least. Even during the brief summer months, some chunks found their way down from the ice cap, for the city of Everfrost was not named without reason. Much of the chief city of the petty realm of Liftauf lay huddled beneath the sheltering cliffs surrounding the fjord, protected from the worst of the arctic winds outside of that relatively warm season.
Everfrost did not look the part of a modern capital, and indeed it was not one save in the temporal sense. Many of the generally low buildings were constructed with heavy stone brick walls as much as a metre thick or entirely of wood and well maintained stone ramparts guarded the few approaches by land. In fact, aside from the occasional imported anachronism, a traveller from the Herzland or perhaps even a particularly daring Equestrian merchant caught well out of their way would be forgiven for thinking they had travelled seven hundred years into the past.
Regardless of the rustic backdrop however, the great Moothall of Everfrost was a fine sight to behold in the long morning twilight, the gold reliefs glimmering like fire against the backdrop of the ocean stretching out below the artificial rise on which it was built. Equally fine were the assortment of guards displaying heraldry from across the patchwork of independent realms that made up what outsiders called the 'Northern Tribes', often with a dismissive flick of a talon. A geographer of better lore would call the region 'Tailte Sioc', but the locals seldom thought in such terms. Admittedly, most of them wouldn't be able to read the map even if they tried.
Today was an important day, for the annual Great Moot was to begin shortly. The year had seen many hasty, unofficial gatherings in Everfrost, but this was the official event and that meant both spectacle and doom. Crowds, mostly Earth Ponies in this particular community, were gathering in the chill, the heat of tens of thousands of warmly wrapped bodies providing the night's snowfall with a head start in its banishment from this particular part of the city.
As per tradition, the host of this year's Moot, Princess Fiana II, was the first to arrive. Garbed in fine brown robes complemented by white furs that matched her coat and brought out her carefully addressed pink mane, the plump Earther strode at the head of a dozen servants and bronze mail clad guards, head held high and soaking in the enthusiastic cheers of the crowd. More enthusiastic than they had ever been at any point in the four years since her coronation, in fact.
Reaching the foot of the steps leading up to the hall, the Princess halted and turned to await the guests. First to appear at the end of the wide street was the previous year's host, Princess Milana of Cubria, the blue Unicorn mare at the head of a similar procession to Fiana's. All were clad in gleaming white robes and barding and received not a few cheers from the onlookers. Indeed here and there, snatches of song telling of her deeds only two months ago were to be heard, fresh in the public memory thanks to the fast-working skalds.
About a minute behind Milana came an unusual creature, dwarfed by his entourage. The Prince of the Lake seemed less to walk as to drift toward the hall, the thick, ankle length robes he wore obscuring much of his form. The apparel of the walking myth and the twelve plate armoured Griffons accompanying him were of an earthy red, with a blue diamond on each shoulder upon which was emblazoned a lyre in cloth of silver. Few among the crowd looked toward him and none caught the deep eyes of the spirit, put off by the seemingly unnatural silence of his movements and a certain faintly palpable otherworldliness that surrounded the figure.
Next was an unremarkable white and brown Griffon wearing remarkably light clothes despite the chill, the dark grey fabric clearly only present to show off the intricate, spiralling patterns picked out in gold upon it. Prince Darius of Vastmush he was, and perhaps thanks to his predecessor in the procession or some other reason the crowd was almost silent as he passed to join his fellows gathered a little behind Princess Fiana.
Fifth came Chieftain Federic Birch of Morker, the green feathered Griffon wrapped in dull browns and greens. Despite the rather drab look, his face was lit with a cheer missing from the so far solemn procession and at one point he stopped to attempt to strike up conversation with a number of Ponies just behind the guarded railing separating the crowd from the cleared street until he was quickly ushered on by his attendants, leaving behind the confused mutters of those addressed.
Immediately behind Federic, thanks to his delay, walked Chieftain Smerdis Silverpoint, an almost albino Griffon wearing robes of a similar style to those of the Lake Tribe's delegation, albeit with heraldry depicting a crescent moon. The Griffon, just barely old enough to have escaped adolescence, greeted the smattering of cheers with a dignified posture and silence as he walked, but the observant would have caught his attempts to restrain the occasional bob of the head or tail flick that passed for a smile among his race.
Last of all, a black coated Pegasus mare in a simple woollen smock hobbled the length of the road with more than a little assistance from a similarly clad servant, the noble among them best distinguished by the golden diadem she wore. Otherwise however, Princess Poppy of Bluffhead walked alone. Despite the humble image, the crowd roared triumphantly as the elderly mare passed.
When all were assembled, in Poppy's case resting on a mat that had been provided in consideration of her advanced years, Fiana addressed the assembled throng, who hushed once more. "My people, honoured guests. I shan't make yet another long speech, now the time of mourning is over. Let it be said however, that after such trying months, it pleases me to see a show of unity like this, as it does to welcome the Princess of Bluffhead wholly back into our ranks after twenty-two years of absence. Today and tomorrow, the accounts shall be closed and gods willing, justice will be done and the dead will sleep in peace." She paused and gestured to her left with a hoof. "There is much to be done, so let the sanctity of this two hundred and ninety-sixth Great Moot be confirmed."
There was a murmur of approval from the crowd either side of the street as a pair of Griffon druids approached Fiana, one carrying an ornate shield and the other a clay urn from which a pungent aroma rose. With a muttered prayer, the viscous oil it held was poured over the surface of the shield.
The shield bearer then strode, steps heavy with ritual, across the small plaza to where an old, apparently seldom used well lay. "Orbsen!" He cried northward. "Mighty Orbsen, lord of waters! Heed this sacrifice in your honour alone! Guard this place of sooth-telling from the unseelie which may design to draw doom aside from the righteous!"
Flattening her ears against her skull, the Princess dipped her head respectfully as the druid shouted. As his words reached their peak, he cast the shield into the well. No sound emerged when it came to rest, if indeed it ever did. If folklore were to be believed, the sacred well from which the anointing waters of the princesses of Liftauf were drawn was fathomless, and none in the memory of the living or of parchment had ever been lowered into it to find out.
Blessing and pomp satisfied, the great and powerful each paid their own respects to the well as they turned and ascended the steps toward the guarded doors of the hall, which were opened before them.
To the Prince of the Lake, the hall was a rustic affair. Wood was a sturdy enough building material and the engravings upon the rafters and wall panels were of high quality by all but the most pedantic of standards. A brother would have called them a child's work, but the Prince had grown more understanding of the mortal condition in his long exile. Still, he would have preferred stone. There was something appealing to his soul in building from the roots of the world, rather than its hair.
The tapestries hung along the walls were less questionable. Some depicted mythological events, fictional or not, the stories of each of which familiar to him. Others bore, in stylised form, true memories of great deeds and moments in the history of the land and indeed beyond. He had been present for some of them and in one, he featured as the foe.
That was long ago now however, before the southerners had begun to encroach upon the heart of what had become, in northern eyes, the rightful birthright of all the tribes, including those who called him lord. It was in communal defence of that birthright that the Moots had begun and, at their core, still continued to be held.
Accepting a tankard of water as always upon such occasions, the better to remain clear headed, the Prince turned his attention to this year's host, lounging almost directly opposite to him across the hall in one of the nine thrones that had been prepared. Two of course were empty, as they had been for many years now.
Fiana whetted her throat with something the Lord of the Lake suspected was a little stronger than water as the servants filed out of the chamber, including Poppy's reluctant attendant after a few quiet words between the two. "My noble peers, it is a pleasure to take my place as host of the Great Moot for the first time. It also gladdens me to see that the spirit of cooperation remains strong between our domains, even with the immediate threat defeated. It bodes well for our debate tonight and the private discussions I have no doubt will follow."
"Tonight?" Prince Darius spoke out, raising his own tankard. "We have a victory to celebrate and to that end, I for one intend to be in no position to debate anything by nightfall!"
A murmur of quiet laughter rippled through the gathering, but beside him, Princess Milana banged a hoof against the wood of her seat. "Hear hear! Unless anyone has an unexpected topic to spring, I reckon we can have this tied up in two hours, maybe one if certain someponies do not start up about Plover Cove again." She added, glancing at Fiana and Poppy.
Fiana shook her head. "As host, I remind you of proper procedure, Cubria. As for the honourable Princess' comment on the matter of Plover Cove however, it is of course no secret that I was some months away from greeting the world when the region fell into southern talons. An appropriately cyclical situation, Dáire willing. As such, it is only reasonable that I make clear my official stance on the matter: The blood of enough proud mares has been spilt on the walls of that godsforsaken town over the years. Let the Princess of Hail have it, maintain the mutually beneficial fishing rights established at the Moot of Frostbell in 6700 and be done with the sorry business."
"That will be something for Liftauf to discuss in more depth with my granddaughter, I feel." Princess Poppy said with a voice like cracking reeds. "But for the time being at least, let that stand. We all have more than enough to do right now, myself most of all. I assume the agreements we made in Sea Season still stand?"
A general chorus of agreement rose in response, though a few eyes were cast toward the youngest Griffon in the room.
Seeing this, Chief Smerdis nodded after a slight hesitation. "I see no reason to amend my father's wishes."
The Prince of the Lake did not miss the flicker of the young Griffon's eyes in his direction. It wasn't a surprise and he had kept his expression neutral in anticipation. It usually took a few years for the chiefs of the Silverpoint dynasty to fully adjust to treating their traditional mentor as a colleague rather than an authority.
Fiana nosed open a scroll that rested on a low table beside her and read off it. "To confirm for the sake of due process, all borders within the reclaimed land will be rolled back to their state in 6770, prior to the invasion. That is to say, Ostfloy east of the river Sionna will return to the crown of Liftauf while the remainder falls to Hail. Likewise, where possible landholders or their heirs will have their holdings restored to them. Where there is no heir, the title will merge back into the appropriate crown, or in the case of a tenant, the land will return to their rightful lord if one exists or to the crown if not. The division of spoils as per the declaration of 6531 will be carried out based on the martial contribution of each realm, with an exception for Hail, who is guaranteed a quarter share in order to assist in the restoration of her domain." The youngest being in the room then set the scroll aside one more. "Since that has largely been resolved already, thanks to the diligent work of our retainers, it would appear that the honourable Cubria was correct. Wise Lake Spirit, I am sure you would not be opposed to having the formal treaty written up as an observer between myself and Hail? Once that is done, the matter of investiture need not trouble the Moot."
He nodded, it was hardly an unusual request. "I will prepare it personally."
"There is one point I would like to raise before we move to open a new topic." Prince Darius interjected, drawing his own copy of the document from a bag. "There is no definition of the spoils, merely an agreement covering how they will be divided."
"Sounds like some other griff's problem to me." Federich said, picking at a talon.
"The f-" Darius stopped himself and glared at the most junior member of the Moot. "Apologies. Most honourable Morker, might I suggest you... Rephrase that?"
It took a while for the suggestion to work its way through green feathers and what many would consider an overly thick skull. "Treasure is treasure. If it's shiny, it's treasure and we split it."
The Prince of Vastmush groaned into the palm of a claw. "Please, someone reason with him, for if you do not, I may have to do something uncivil."
Steepling his fingers across his mouth, the Prince of the Lake considered how for all he looked like his grandfather externally, Federich was both as different as one could get mentally and unfortunately young. "Let us not be blown off course by thoughtless words. What would you suggest falls under the spoils of war, noble Vastmush?"
The middle aged Griffon considered for a moment. "Plunder from the treasury and livestock, obviously. Weapons not claimed by the fyrd, likewise for armour - not that those madgriffs wore much of that - art from their public buildings... Am I missing anything?"
"Grain?" Smerdis suggested. "I cannot speak for my noble peers of course, but I have heard no ill omens regarding this year's harvest from my druids. Quite the contrary, in fact. I therefore recommend the whole share of that goes to Hail to aid in their rebuilding."
Princess Fiana nodded. "I agree with the honourable ruler of Moonrise."
A few other nods and murmurs of approval were heard, but Milana raised a hoof of objection. "What of the prisoners?"
"That feels like an internal affair. I for one intend to chuck mine over the border and let their kin deal with their own leavings, no point having them freeloading in the dungeons." Darius replied with a shrug, then chuckled darkly. "The ones who will not pay, anyway. The rest can go and play with the sun-fondlers to the east, I am sure they will appreciate some 'volunteers'."
"Maybe we can get something out of the ringleaders? I am sure that featherbrain Kemerskai would be thrilled to buy them off us." Fiana suggested.
"I would caution against that, Liftauf." The Lake Prince cut in. "While it would no doubt benefit our coffers, the value of setting at least some of them free may be greater still. I hold no fear of Eriviar Sunstriker, but Alexander Kermarskai may seize upon our time of recovery to strike. Therefore, I would that we take wise Vastmush's policy further in order to dissuade him. Let us rearm a number of the Skynavians and set foe against foe."
"Commendably cunning as your scheme is, noble spirit of the Lake, what will happen if and when they decide to turn their guns upon us?" Milana asked.
"We need not send many, merely enough to add another ulcer to the usurper's gut." He replied. "Two hundred of their most driven soldiery, perhaps. My scouts report that the majority of the border guards have been shifted to Braunles to aid in the occupation. We need only plant a weapons cache to the north of Windford and drive the prisoners in the right direction. They will not know we are using them and so we need not fear betrayal. As for outside suspicion, they will merely be one band among many chased over the border."
"I agree that being rid of their thegns would be for the best." The Princess of Cubria said. "That still leaves us with the southerner ceorles, however. They are a conquered people."
"I wish it were that simple. It has been two decades, doubtless some of our own folk will have been swayed by the southerners." Poppy noted. "Not to mention the foals and cubs born in that time. I have heard my share of Sickleclaw's promises, they are tempting enough to naïve ears."
"They are our own folk, they can be corrected once the bad influences have been tossed across the border." Darius said confidently, switching his gaze between Poppy and Fiana. "I will be more than happy to assist in that."
Fiana shook her head. "Much as your generous offer is appreciated Vastmush, I would rather not repeat the fish fete affair in Ostfloy. It took a year to purge the smell of it from Everfrost."
"I did warn your folk not to eat too much." Darius replied a touch smugly, crossing his forelegs and leaning back.
"Which they took as a challenge." Fiana said, a harsh flick of an ear betraying her frustration.
"We are straying from the point." Milana cut in. "Vastmush proposes that we cast out all the southerners, but is that not a waste of both resources and potential? I propose we act upon our right to take the conquered as thralls, at least the ceorles. Liftauf may be able to absorb the cost, its Princess would know better than I, but I am sure Hail would benefit from the added workforce."
A heavy silence filled the hall for a time. The Lake Prince and Smerdis shared a dour look.
"There is merit..." Poppy admitted. "But that right of conquest has not been invoked in centuries."
"Who among our number, the wise Lake Spirit excepted, has ever marched forth into the heathen lands and returned as conquerors?" The Unicorn challenged. "Can any of us name even a grandparent who has done so?"
A few heads shook uncertainly.
"There is precedent that speaks otherwise." Poppy replied, ruffling her wings. "When my ancestors conquered Dinfau, we took their people as free ceorles and cotters. It is an arrangement that has profited us well."
"It is hardly surprising that kin would be more generous toward kin, but these are not our kin, noble Hail." Milana retorted with an intensity that manifested without raising her voice. "The southerners have always been our enemies and their chiefs have never made a move to prove otherwise. They openly mock us and our customs, and even the briefest glance at their laws will show just how much value us. Could we expect any better than thralldom should the King of Vedina march north, or the Kaiser?"
"Your reading of southern laws is a little out of date, honourable Cubria." The Prince of the Lake interjected. "Thralldom in the Empire was abolished a century and a half ago by Kaiser Grover the Third, a law that holds in the halls of Cloudbury. I will concede that the status of a Vedinan cotter is hardly better than that of a Cubrian thrall, however."
"So they would merely deprive us of our gods, livelihoods and land then? How generous of them." Milana snarked.
"It may be our legal prerogative to decide these southerners' fates, but I will remind the noble Princess of Cubria that Sickleclaw and his... Colleagues, wholly rejected the notion of thralldom." The Prince replied, his face carefully neutral. "Indeed I recall them mistakenly criticising our wholesale retention of such a class and openly stating their intention to liberate them."
"Of course, some of us have already abolished thralldom." Smerdis added, glancing at Federich.
The Chief haltingly nodded. "Err, yeah? Right?"
Prince Darius ran his palms over his eyes, down and over his beak, making an exasperated sound not unlike one of those new fangled steam engines as he uncovered his nares.
Seeing the Unicorn's posture and that her horn was starting to intermittently give off violet sparks, Fiana smacked her hoof against the stone floor. "Enough. I choose to interpret the exasperation of the noble Vastmush as a sign of his frustration with this pointless digression. The treatment of the vanquished is not a matter for the Moot but for your own rings. Therefore, I move that the ceorles not be considered part of the spoils, but that the prisoners should be treated and distributed as such, if that is agreeable to Vastmush."
Darius nodded slightly, still glaring at Federich.
The Lake Prince bowed his head, twin locks of dark hair spilling over his shoulders. "Apologies, Liftauf. If I may rephrase my comment for advisory purposes ere we move to a vote?"
The Earther nodded. "Granted."
"I mean no disrespect toward the Princess when I say this, but Hail is currently weak and will be for some time." The Prince observed. "Creating a vast body of thralls with a shared hatred along the lines of kindred would be dangerous at the best of times, but do we truly wish to sow the seeds of revolt in such fertile soil? Should we not instead prove Sickleclaw and his ilk wrong with mercy? If we do, we could see the conversion of many if not most southerners to our own cause within a generation, bringing their own strengths with them. In that, we might subtly avenge ourselves for the temptation of our youth without estranging them."
"You make a good point, Spirit. It would make a suitable weregeld, and thought ought to be given to those whom we are truly exacting it for." Fiana said before turning her head to the now somewhat calmer Milana. "It seems only fair I give you a closing statement. Vastmush as well."
The Griffon waved it off. "I think my position is clear enough already, though I will consider what is said."
Milana however, nodded. "Thank you, Liftauf. As the wise Lake Spirit noted, Hail will be in a weak position for some time. I will also point out that many of the southerners slacked in their communes under Sickleclaw and that they will continue to do so for their rightful rulers if offered leniency. The most expedient way for Hail to recover would therefore be to drive these southerners out of their forest clearings and work them hard in our fields and mines. Perhaps they can prove their right to be considered our equals once they have repaired the damage they have done to us. I will add that a fast recovery may allow us to capitalise upon the chaos sown by the Lake Spirit's ploy to strike Braunles and reclaim that part of our land, or possibly even liberate the Windy Peaks."
The Prince had folded his arms as the Unicorn spoke and Smerdis was likewise unmoved. Poppy and Darius' expressions were unreadable, at least until Federich nodded fervently, earning a roll of the eyes from the older Griffon.
Fiana looked between spirit and Unicorn. "I will for my part consider the suggestions." She shot a questioning look at Poppy, who nodded. "As for Cubria's suggestion of another war, let that be a topic for another day. Now, are there any more last minute comments before we vote on Vastmush's query?"
Several heads shook, but Poppy spoke up. "I would like to raise a related topic, but that can be after the vote."
"Very well." Fiana said. "All in favour?" She counted the nods. "All against?" Again. "Six in favour, one picking at his beak."
The Prince of the Lake noted the result in a book that rested on his lap. "The will of the Moot is known."
Fiana nodded toward Poppy, who asked; "We have spoken of the ceorles and thegns, but what are we to do with Sickleclaw? I assume he yet lives?"
Darius nodded. "He is alive and well in my dungeons in Frostbell, if one allows for a broken wing. The Lakeish healers did good work. You can have him if you like, you have a better claim to a feud than the rest of us." He added with a sniff.
"Perhaps, but since he is an enemy of us all, I feel it is a Moot matter to decide his fate." The slightly elder reasoned. "I would rather not act upon my own will only to find that it contradicts the whole."
Fiana thought for a moment. "I trust that the Lake Spirit's plan does not require him?"
He shook his head. "While he is a fearsome general and would doubtless add piles to Kemerskai's ulcers, he is a rallying point for the Skynavians. Should he decide to move north again, we could find ourselves at war once more."
"No Sickleclaw, no problem." Darius said laconically.
"Do not forget the lessons of your own family, noble Vastmush." Fiana warned. "If his popular base is so large, he could become a martyr if we execute him."
"Much as it feels strange for me to agree with the noble Vastmush on a matter of policy, we should kill him." Milana said. "He is too dangerous alive and without him, his supporters are just a rabble of angry cotters."
"We need not take the risk at all." Fiana pointed out. "As I said earlier, we can ransom Sickleclaw to Kemerskai. That way, we are rid of him, earn no small amount of favour from the old sausage muncher and get some gold as well."
"And that way, Sickleclaw shan't be our martyr, if Kemerskai executes him for us!" Smerdis added, bobbing his head enthusiastically. "Brilliant!"
The corners of Poppy's mouth turned up, working against aged wrinkles etched in past worry beneath thinning fur. "The Skynavians would have nothing to hold against us if we merely repatriated him. 'Take your problem up with Kemerskai, southerner.'"
Fiana nodded. "Exactly."
"If Kemerskai's folk attack us in the future, such a stance would galvanise the Skynavians on our side with a shared cause." The Lake Prince noted.
"What if Kemerskai does not execute Sickleclaw?" Darius asked, scratching the underside of his beak with a talon. "With the chaos down there already, he might make a deal."
"In that case, we are still rid of him for some time and get paid either way." Fiana said. "Maybe some southerners will flee across the border, but that can only be a good thing by your reckoning, noble Vastmush, for I recall you wished to expel them anyway."
"Besides, the ones who would leave for his sake would mostly be the same ones who would cause trouble if we kill him." Smerdis pointed out.
The Prince of Vastmush nodded slowly, brown leonine tail flicking. "True, though I will admit I was moved by the Lake Spirit's arguments, even if the specifics of his proposal are too soft for my liking. I merely think it is a possibility we should consider."
"Let us then suppose the worst possible case, that all the southerners flee or prove hostile and Sickleclaw convinces Kemerskai to launch an invasion." The Lord of the Lake suggested. "Sickleclaw knows nothing of our secrets, I doubt he even understands the truth of my nature. Nor is he a general of singular skill among the Republicans, at least at present. Upon Kemerskai's tether, there is nothing he could do that would leave us in a significantly worse position than we would be if he were relieved of his head, at least in the short to medium term. Beyond that, Griffonia is in turmoil and even foresight can prove unreliable."
"That sounds like four voices in favour of ransom." Poppy noted.
The Prince shook his head and leant back, arms folded. "No, three. There are tangible benefits also to slaying the arch-socialist. I do not think he was so beloved as to become a dangerous martyr, but the loss of their figurehead could demoralise the Skynavians and serve as a warning to other powers. Therefore, I hold no particular preference."
Milana glanced at Darius, who shrugged, then at Federich, who was inspecting a tapestry distractedly.
After a moment, Fiana spoke again. "Shall we move to vote, if there is nothing else to say?"
"We have him now, we should remove him from the board while we can and crush their resolve to resist further." Milana said forcefully enough to make Federich jump.
"Anything else?" Fiana asked before pausing briefly. "No? Very well, all in favour of ransom? All against? Three in favour, one, no, two, o- Honourable Morker, would you be so good as to make your mind up? Thank you. Two against, two abstain."
"The will of the Moot is known." The Lake Prince intoned once more, recording the result.
Prince Darius clapped his claws together and rubbed them. "Well, now that is out the way, I say we break up, seek council and get to our private discussions. I know I need to speak with Morker's brother about our eastern border guards. After that, we can celebrate our victory, get smashed and drag ourselves through tomorrow's business with hangovers worthy of such a great night. What do you say?"
"What are we talking about?" Federich asked.
Darius squeezed his eyes shut for a second and did his level yet insufficient best not to sound patronising. "Border. Guards. With your b-ro-th-er, noble Morker. The one who tells the Griffons with pointy sticks what to do."
"No, tomorrow." The green behatted head cocked. "What did you think I meant?"
While the Prince of Vastmush blinked at the Chief in open surprise, Fiana spoke up; "The disagreement over Cubria's customs charges on coal shipments to Moonrise was one topic that I was informed of in advance, noble Morker. Hail and I will probably also be announcing whatever amendments we decide to make this afternoon regarding Plover Cove as well, given the changing situation of the world. I imagine that preparing some provisions for trade and travel by rail would be a good move to avoid future headaches."
Poppy smiled, but shook her head. "I am an old mare who struggles with the new and I need to rest, but I will empower my granddaughter to speak with you on the matter, honourable Liftauf."
"There is a military matter I would like to raise, ere we go to the flagons." The Prince of the Lake announced. Seeing the slight disappointment in Darius' face, he then added; "I promise this will not take long."
The brown coated Griffon leant back in his throne. "I assume this is important?"
"When has a topic I raised to this august body not been?" He replied rhetorically.
"Go ahead, Lake Spirit." Fiana said, settling back down herself.
"I said earlier that I do not fear Eriviar Sunstriker, but that could change." The Lake Prince said, gesturing to a choice tapestry depicting an event just over a millennium ago. "My agents there report that since the King awoke from his coma, he has begun acting erratically and has ordered the construction of a large temple complex in his capital."
"Sunstriker is a madgriff. In other news, it is dark in the winter." Darius commented dryly.
"Perhaps," the Prince of the Lake conceded, "but I trust my contacts. There is some foulness afoot in Brantbeak and we would do well not to neglect that section of our borders. I urge all of you, do not allow your households and fyrd to slack under the glow of victory."
"Mine have little option but to be alert." Smerdis said more grimly than many would expect of one so young. "Reinhard Suntail, one of the southerner warlords, has been sending parties to plunder my fields and border forts as of late. That is of course why I could not join the campaign with my father. Now my fyrd are back I think I can hold him at bay without assistance, but I will have few spears to spare."
"I can lend Morker a few companies from my coastal wardens, now we do not need to watch against raids any more." Darius offered, eying Milana warily. "Assuming of course the honourable Cubria can keep her ealdormares in line."
"Of course I can." The Unicorn replied tersely. "It will be a trivial matter, even Chieftess Feargach is pleased with our haul, so I doubt she will be inclined to test my patience, especially with the harvest due in soon. You will have peace until next Fire Season Vastmush, that I promise you."
"That is a beginning, at least." He said reservedly. "We will have to discuss an extension to that agreement in private. It is far from my interests for Morker to fall to the southerners, unfortunately."
The two glanced at the green Griffon, who was now busying himself peering over the back of his throne.
"My condolences." Milana offered.
"Quite." Fiana said, eying the pair warningly. "It would seem to me that one solution would be for certain unruly gazes to be directed southward, noble Cubria. I doubt it will upset our wider situation too much if a few townships around Lostgate were to be relieved of their livestock and valuables, such as the warlords have not already taken. That would redirect their attention from the valiant lord between the rivers and free some of his fyrdgriffs to assist Morker."
"It may even provide a further diplomatic card to play, should it be needed." The Prince of the Lake observed.
Milana raised an eyebrow at that. "Offer them respite in exchange for tribute? I am sure my vassals would be agreeable."
"Or some other concession." He agreed.
"Somewhat distasteful, but they are southerners." Smerdis muttered. "I would appreciate some warning when you plan on playing that particular card, so I can prepare for any creative interpretations the southerners might choose to make."
"Of course, it benefits none of us if southerners carry away any of our goods." Milana observed.
"And with that bit of economic theory, I think we can adjourn for the day." Fiana said with finality. "I would be pleased to host all of you at the palace for lunch, and then the noble Vastmush may be on his merry way."
"'Merry' is one way to put it." Darius returned with a sly bob of the head.
As the great and powerful filed out of the Moothall, they were met only with the omnipresent bustle of a city. The crowd had long since dispersed and few passers by had much reason to enter the priests' quarter outside of the hours in which the surrounding shrines and temples conducted their services. As such, the only others on the street were a few stragglers still emerging from the shrine of Grian and the septet's own guards, who followed unobtrusively in their rulers' wakes.
"You did well, young Silverpoint." The Prince of the Lake commended his ex-student at the back of the group. "The only critique I will make is that you should not be so harsh in judging your peers."
Smerdis, easily half a head taller than the Prince even on all fours, looked upon those deep eyes without fear. "I would guess you mean my comment on thralldom?"
He nodded. "Aye. While I quite agree the practice constitutes an abuse of sapient life, snide comments will only earn its practitioners' ire. Better to more subtly nudge. Liftauf and Cubria once treated their thralls far more harshly than they do today, and even Vastmush has improved somewhat. Perhaps one day I will see the final abolition, but I suspect it will be your grandcubs who share that small victory with me."
"I understand." The Chief sighed. "I know over the sea they like to say the future is today, but I find it hard to see how that can be true at times."
"As do all the youth of the world, ere their spirits cool." The teacher replied gently, glancing at his forever scorched hand. "The land changes and generally it does so for the better by the labour of creatures, but that change is incremental. Once you have the perspective of years, you will see the changes and likely be appalled at the loss of the past."
"I would disagree, but I imagine so did my father and all my longfathers before him." Smerdis introspected, then shook his head as if to clear it. "I should not have taken advantage of Federich like I did."
"Probably not, but better he be directed by the wise than the rash, especially when he cannot direct himself." The Prince said. "Otherwise, I was very pleased to see you taking part in the debates with initiative. I had feared your old shy streak might resurface when confronted with your peers."
"Thank you... Makalaurë." Smerdis replied, slightly hesitating upon his mentor's informal name. "You really do think things will turn out all right?"
Makalaurë nodded. "Aye. Today marks a turning point in our history, Smerdis. We stand upon the cusp of greeting modernity for the first time in a millennium and lo! Never before have we reclaimed so much as we have from the southerners."
"I have to say, Milana's suggestion to keep going has some appeal." The young Griffon commented.
"The sword has its rightful place in the toolbox of diplomacy, but we must first rebuild our strength to wield it." The Lake Prince qualified. "I think Princess Fiana realises that as well, so I do not fear impetuous action from the Moot. If the chaos in the Republic continues, or if the opportunity to amend the wrong that was done to our peoples by Albert Plumenjar three centuries ago is set upon our doorstep, as seems likely to me, today may not be the last we see of this revanchist glow in the foreseeable future."
"I will happily toast to that, and to the trains, come the feast tonight." Smerdis said, white feathered head bobbing. "Speaking of which, I wonder what they will be serving?"
"Are you sure you wish to ask that of me? I have foreseen it, you know." Makalaurë laughed as they turned the corner, leaving the first day of the Great Moot behind them.
Author's Note
I have prepared a map based on the excellent Eltirions' EaW world map (he also writes great fics, go and read them here) showing the makeup of the north of Griffonia in the late summer of 1008ALB (6792AL), including the major constituents of the 'Northern Tribes':
1. Western Ostfloy, densely populated by Skynavians but historically a fairly poor region due to repeated devastation by conflicts over the fertile farmlands of the Sionna delta. Settlements are Dinfau, Plover Cove and New Skynavia. Owned by the Hail Principality.
Hail Forest, governed from Bluffhead. Gives its name to the principality in which it resides. The Hail Principality are historical rivals with Liftauf and often acted as the primary trading hub with the outside world in peacetime.
Little Griff Mountains, with the chief regional settlement of Signaller's Hill. Extremely rich in iron and aluminium. Owned by the Hail Principality.
Eastern Ostfloy, separated from the west by the river Sionna. Owned by the Principality of Liftauf and jealously guarded for its fertile farmland, its loss was a keenly-felt blow that the previous Princess, Bál III, swore an oath to reverse, though it would ultimately be her daughter who fulfilled it.
Firefly Forest, a western march of the Principality of Liftauf.
Liftauf proper, with its capital of Everfrost. The Principality of Liftauf has typically been the single most powerful and populous country in the region, although not by a large margin, owing to its large agricultural base and mild climate by local standards.
Principality of Cubria, with its chief city of Sleetfell. Historical rivals to Vastmush, Moonrise and the Lake Tribe. Notorious raiders, particularly by sea and river, Cubria lost much of its native wealth with the fall of Braunles (a region sited between 3 and 7) and its mineral deposits to the Skynavian invaders.
Chiefdom of Moonrise, also colloquially known as the 'land between the rivers'. A middling power who have remained firm friends of the Lake Tribe since time immemorial. The Silverpoint dynasty is the oldest in the region and is widely considered one of the most honourable.
Principality of Vastmush, ruled from the cavern city of Frostbell. Vastmush is a traditional rival of both Cubria and Liftauf. Owing to its extreme northern position and prevailing easterly winds which carry a magical chill upon them, the Griffons of Vastmush are considered hardy even among the other peoples of the region, a reputation they are more than happy to cultivate.
Chiefdom of Morker, a sparsely populated region of woods and hills. The Griffons of the region are best known as producers of fine woodcrafts prized across the north of Griffonia and expert hunters.
Elf Lake, home of the Lake Tribe ruled by the immortal Lake Prince, considered a divine entity by some. Despite its small size, the city state is the most densely populated region in the Nothern Tribes and by far the most developed, with a small but surprisingly advanced local-grown industry. With a highly intellectual culture, the capital, largely built into the walls of an enormous crater in which the lake itself sits, is possessed of the largest library in the north. Though relatively few in number, the soldiers of the Lake are some of the best equipped, led and trained in the north, easily a match for more 'civilised' knights hailing from the Herzland or Vedina.
This was a fascinating short to write. While I had been toying with the concept of the Prince of the Lake (some readers will doubtless already recognise him) for some time and had already developed a rough outline as to how the Northern Tribes functioned internally, I did not have much to go on for the modern day of the region. I must say I'm fairly pleased with how it turned out, and sooner or later an explanation of how this situation came to be will be published.
Many of the characters featured here are in one way or another extant in the source material, Equestria at War. Princess Fiana II for example is the country's starting harmonic leader, with Darius as an alternative should they take a non-aligned path, but their characters are at the time of writing completely non-existent, so I had to create them whole cloth. Milana and Federich Birch are both generals in the mod and have traits (reckless and imbecile, respectively) which served as basic guidelines, but Poppy and Smerdis are both totally original characters. Fans of Persian history will recognise a reference or two (no, not that Darius is called Darius). There's also plenty for Irish and Anglo-Saxon enthusiasts to pick out, if they so wish.
