>>4336761
You will need to do two things in light of this new threat; call a Moot of lords, to discuss the new enemy of the realm, how much you actually TELL them will depend. But that is a question for later, what you need to do now is decide the best approach to rooting these bastards out. You are a fan of overwhelming force, of course, but deception and intrigue has saved your old hide more than once. This, of course, is a question for your advisors, to, well, advise you on. Outside perspectives help, to a degree. “So.” You catch everyone’s attention. “What course of action would you recommend then, if we are to catch the conspirators with any degree of efficacy?”

Johann speaks up first, as he likely has a dreaded opinion on the subject. “Of course, My Lord, you know where I stand, but I feel that I must state, if we are able to capture a conspirator alive, or infiltrate their circle…” He raises an eyebrow, feeling no need to state the obvious. “It would also leave the smallfolk largely untouched, and the Gods know that a military patrol kicking in their hovel door does nothing to keep them complacent.”

Albrecht nods his approval, but Franz sighs, crossing his hands behind his back. “I feel that it should not be understated, of course, that SPEED is one of the primary considerations here. If we do not get this in hand, and soon, we could have magical old men like this one, farting hailstorms around the land.” Franz nods, grimacing. “And, no offense meant, my fellow, but what if your Ravens are caught by them? You saw how our fully armed and armored guard struggled with one wizened old man.” This gives Albrecht pause, and he scratches the back of his head in thought. Eventually, he speaks up.

“What about a compromise between the two?” Everyone turns to him, and you raise an eyebrow, prompting the debonair prince to continue. “What if the Ravens worked with the Volkjaeger? Ravens as scouts, of a sort, and the Volkjaeger bringing down the hammer- well, axe, where they found conspirators and rebels?”

(cont.)

>>4336765
You turn to your two advisors, waiting for a counterpoint. Johann replies first. “An extra line of communication means more messengers that can get intercepted- especially to a lauded organization such as the Volkjaeger. Everyone notices where they go, and who they meet with.”

“And even if we were to cooperate-” Franz nods to Johann, “Their process is, in my opinion, too slow. We would have warriors and soldiers waiting around, possibly for weeks, while conspirators roam the country.” Albrecht frowns some more, but he keeps his complaints to himself, letting you choose. The circle of those close to you waits, with bated breath.

You decide, ultimately, to rely on Johann and his Ravens. This is the exact situation you let Johann form the Ravens for. Spymasters are of little use when not spying. Nodding, you relent, motioning to Franz. “Very well, Johann. You will have my permission to begin your covert investigations.” Quietly relieved, Johann bows, and Franz accepts this with a nod. “However;” this gives Johann pause, “you may only investigate if it relates to this conspiracy. I don’t want your Ravens to do much more than their current duties. Am I understood?”

Johann grimaces, and nods. However, he still speaks up, saying, “My Liege, I still fail to understand why you have held the Ravens back, when we likely would have identified this threat earlier.” You tap your fingers on the armrest of your throne, frowning. While he has a point, you still hold to your old beliefs about spies and spymasters.

“Johann, as I have told you, time and time again, it was spies and rogues that killed my older brother; I will not have them, even with you at their head, running around my country, doing anything they please, away from the eyes of the Gods and everyone.” Though you used underhanded tactics yourself in the war, there is no place for that in your modern Hochland. Running a hand over your face, you sigh, as you begin to remember… no. Guilt is, and has always been, a young man’s game. Accept what you have done, and move on.

Johann seems to recognize that you still refuse to budge on this point, and bows again, saying, “By your leave, then, My Lord?” You wave him off, letting him organize his spies and cutthroats, sending out messengers, and specially trained-birds to his contacts across the nation. You, however, have your own messages to deliver.

Nodding to Franz, you say, “How many men can you spare, to act as my heralds?”

Immediately, with no hesitation, Franz says, “Three härad, My Lord, if you wish to summon every lord of the realm.” Scratching your beard, you think it over. Were you to send messengers to every one of your vassals, great or small, that would be… around eight Volkjaeger, for each of your vassals, give or take. Given how your men struggled against the intruder, that number doesn’t make you very confident in your message reaching everyone. Unless…

(cont.)

>>4336769
You turn to Vlad, your High Druid (whom everyone has ignored up to this point,) and say, “Vladimir.” Startled, the man begins to stammer a reply, but you hold up a hand. ”Do you know of thirty Druids who can call upon Korill? From within your Circle, or anywhere else.”

The young man puzzles this over for a bit, and then nods. “Y-yes, My Lord, I do. Do you wish for them to accompany your messengers, to protect against the assassins’ powers?”

“Aye, Vlad. The Moot must be called; by any means necessary. We face an unknown foe, of unknown capabilities. The most we know about them is quite possibly a legend, and the one person who came into contact with one of them is a young fool, who knew not what he was doing, with no eye for subterfuge.” Albrecht winces as you clearly describe Michel, his young friend.

Vladimir frowns, and, clearly gathering his nerve to speak up, says, “B-but, My Lord, were I to send them, I would be the only one able to call upon Korill, in all of Castle Hohenwald, and all of the surrounding lands! That would leave the majority of the Volkjaeger which remain without the blessings of the War God!”

You nod, taking this in.

>”I believe that we can take on any and all comers, Vladimir. Trust in me.”
>”Very well, if you think it best, the messengers will go without blessings.”
>”Send two Druids with the parties that will retrieve Jarl Liebrecht and Jarl Scholzlang, the rest shall remain.”

As Vladimir scampers off to organize the Druids of his Circle, you turn to Albrecht, leaning back on your throne.

>”You have done well, my son, well enough to warrant the young Röbestock’s release. Do keep him from any more treason, will you?”
>”I will be keeping Michel Röbestock imprisoned- but you may tell his guards to place him under house arrest, in the Moon Hall.”
>”I am afraid that you have not given me enough, son, and in this time of impending chaos, the people need a symbol of our power. The Röbestock will meet the headsman in a week’s time.”
>[Write-in.]

>>4336773
>>”Send two Druids with the parties that will retrieve Jarl Liebrecht and Jarl Scholzlang, the rest shall remain.”
>”I am afraid that you have not given me enough, son, and in this time of impending chaos, the people need a symbol of our power. The Röbestock will meet the headsman in a week’s time.”

>>4336773
>”I believe that we can take on any and all comers, Vladimir. Trust in me.”
>”I will be keeping Michel Röbestock imprisoned- but you may tell his guards to place him under house arrest, in the Moon Hall.”

>>4336773
>”I believe that we can take on any and all comers, Vladimir. Trust in me.”
>”I am afraid that you have not given me enough, son, and in this time of impending chaos, the people need a symbol of our power. The Röbestock will meet the headsman in a week’s time.”

>>4336773
>”Send two Druids with the parties that will retrieve Jarl Liebrecht and Jarl Scholzlang, the rest shall remain.”
>”I will be keeping Michel Röbestock imprisoned- but you may tell his guards to place him under house arrest, in the Moon Hall.”

>>4336773
>”Send two Druids with the parties that will retrieve Jarl Liebrecht and Jarl Scholzlang, the rest shall remain.”
>”I will be keeping Michel Röbestock imprisoned- but you may tell his guards to place him under house arrest, in the Moon Hall.”

>>4336773
>”I believe that we can take on any and all comers, Vladimir. Trust in me.”
>”I am afraid that you have not given me enough, son, and in this time of impending chaos, the people need a symbol of our power. The Röbestock will meet the headsman in a week’s time.”

>>4336773
>”I believe that we can take on any and all comers, Vladimir. Trust in me.”
>”I will be keeping Michel Röbestock imprisoned- but you may tell his guards to place him under house arrest, in the Moon Hall.”

>”I believe that we can take on any and all comers, Vladimir. Trust in me.”
>”I will be keeping Michel Röbestock imprisoned- but you may tell his guards to place him under house arrest, in the Moon Hall.”

Calling the vote before any more ties rear their ugly heads.

>>4336761

>>4288328
>Writing!
32 Days between post

>>4336773

Resolute, you repeat your order to Vladimir, saying, ”I believe that we can take on any and all comers, Vladimir. Trust in me.” This seems to reassure the young man, and he leaves to do your bidding, bowing, and scraping. As Vladimir scampers off to organize the Druids of his Circle, you turn to Albrecht, leaning back on your throne. Drumming your fingers against the iron-wrought armrest, you rub your temple, thinking how best to proceed. Clearly, the headsman is the Röbestock boy’s just reward; but you did promise your son clemency for his friend, if he found solid information on the enemy who manipulated Michel. And he did, it just wasn’t as helpful as you would have wished.

You sigh, looking your second son in the eyes, searching for something to help guide your decision. Just releasing him would be overly merciful to a traitor, but you don’t wish for your son to hate you. Maybe a compromise? A sudden shift in your demeanor causes Albrecht to stand straighter, hanging on your every word, peering into your eyes with that same inscrutable half-smile he always had. You project your voice, kingly authority reverberating through every word. ”I will be keeping Michel Röbestock imprisoned- he is a traitor, after all-” his face falls- “but you may tell his guards to place him under house arrest, in the Moon Hall.” Though not completely happy that you didn’t follow through with his promised clemency, he seems to realize the alternative.

Bowing, your son can’t quite seem to meet your eyes, as he says, “Very well, my father, I shall do as you bid.” Turning away, Albrecht leaves the room quietly, downtrodden. You hate to do it to him, but you are a king first; and a father second. As it has always been, so shall it always be.

Sighing once more, you rub your gnarled, large hands over your face, slumping back on your throne. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion washes over you, and you turn to Franz. “I feel the need to lie down, for a moment. Escort me back to my quarters, Franz- let us speak on the way.” Nodding, the commander of the Volkjaegers, whom you have known ever so long, holds out a hand to help you up, which you accept, wearily. You leave the throne room in silence, and, make it halfway to your room, when Franz pipes up.

“My Lord, if I may ask, what did you wish to tell me?”

You frown, looking around you. There’s your usual accompaniment of Volkjaeger following the two of you, but no one else in the hallway, so you lean closer to Franz, speaking in your low, gravelly voice. “Tell your men, while delivering their messages, to keep an eye on the Druids.” Reacting with clear surprise, Franz raises an eyebrow, curious. “I can trust Vladimir; his circumstances were similar to yours, after all, but many of the Druids, here, served my brother, the king, and the loyalists, in the war. We cannot rule out a possible blood faide, just now coming to fruition.”

(Cont.)

>>4338658

Franz ponders this, for a moment, and says, “But My Lord, did your son, and your Master of Intelligence not say that they were a cult?”

You nod. “Aye, but who’s to say that the two causes are at cross-purposes? And who’s to say that one of the Druids is not performing rituals of their cult in secret? You saw how that old man’s woad appeared only once he had died; we cannot be too vigilant.”

Processing this, Franz looks like he might disagree, but he nods, saying, “Very well, My Lord, as you command.”

Now at your door, you open the oaken portal wearily, nodding to Franz. “This old man has taken enough of your time, Franz, I shall see you at the next meeting of the Masters.” You wave him off, closing the door behind you. “By my leave.” Utterly exhausted by now, you collapse onto your large bed, not even bothering to pull your bedding over you. God, you’re old. When you were younger, you wouldn’t even break a sweat, over such a little scuffle, but now, it exhausts you, and…

You drift off into dream.

---------------------------------------------------------

Opening your eyes, you see nothing but forest surrounding you. You are young again, your arms strong once more, your skin no longer wrinkled, and your eyes no longer have the bags under them. You are dressed in the finery of a third son, and.... Ah, you recognize that rock. This is the forest that Wolf inhabits in dreams and visions. Turning your head, you look around for the spirit. “Wolf! Why have you brought me here?” Your voice rings out among the trees, fading into the quiet and the fog of the forest. A long, pregnant pause, and then, she is there.
Forming from mist before your eyes, Wolf walks up to you, and sniffs you, curiously. You are young, now, little Echzan. The dream has changed. Curious.

You nod, waving it off. “Regardless,” Wolf snorts, curling up on the ground in front of you, getting to eye level for you, “Why have you called me here? You have performed your task, and taken your restitution, so what changed?”

Staring at you intently, with her big glowing eyes, Wolf says nothing for a long moment, then speaks into your mind, saying, I have not taken the blood-price, Klaus, for there is… something on the wind. She looks off into the distance, quietly. I could smell it upon that blue-blooded hunter, who came to hunt you. For now- she stands up, slowly, I will watch, and wait, and guard you, little hunter.

As she begins to move deeper into the forest again, partially obscured by fog, you call out, saying,

>”Wait! Do you have any idea of what may be coming? What we will face?”
>”Were I to free you from service, would you hunt down the hidden enemy?”
[Write-in]

”Wait! Do you have any idea of what may be coming? What we will face?”

>>4338659
>”Wait! Do you have any idea of what may be coming? What we will face?”

Let's not go nuclear yet.

>>4338659
>>”Wait! Do you have any idea of what may be coming? What we will face?”

>>4338683
>>4338690
>>4338715
>>”Wait! Do you have any idea of what may be coming? What we will face?”
Calling the vote!

>>4338659
Holding out a hand, as if to stop her from leaving, you call out, saying, “Wait! Do you have any idea of what may be coming?” She turns to face you, large eyes twin glowing orbs in the darkness and gloom of the dream-forest. “What will we face?”

She stares at you, for a long, quiet moment. Something old, something foolish. Something that once wished to rival the Gods. Pray that you don’t have to face it, that these are just the flies upon a once-great carcass. With that, she turns and leaves, fading back into the mist. You frown. That tells you almost nothing; but with the knowledge that Albrecht and Johann managed to pry from the old tomes in your library, you can put forth a conjecture.

Something called the “Liar God”, and his followers, were purged, in ancient history, ancient enough that the great tribes had not even organized into the High Kingdoms, yet the Druids managed to suppress them. With powers such as they showed, in their attempt earlier, how did they do it? Why did they do it? Did they pose a threat then, or was there a more human, more petty reason?

And why are they back now, trying to kill you, and cause chaos? The old man said he heralded strife, but why? The mysterious other berserkir also made a targeted attack upon Michel, using him to cause conflict in the court. It is only due to the Röbestock boy’s forthrightness and honesty, and your son’s investigation that prevented your family from being thrown into chaos. Do they know of how your generation of Echzans destroyed each other? Are you just being paranoid? Are you overthinking this?

Such thoughts guide you to the waking world, the dream-forest fading around you, as light suffuses your being.

(Cont.)

>>4342948
You wake up with your bedsheets placed neatly over you, a change from when you fell asleep. Looking around, you notice two things. Thing the first; you apparently slept until evening, as you can quite clearly see the orange-purple of twilight outside your windows. Thing the second; you have a visitor that you hadn’t expected to see today, your youngest son, Wilhelm. He sits in one of your cushioned chairs, gripping the hilt of his sword, which he has sat, sheathed, across both of his knees. Antsy, he keeps his eyes on the windows, not once looking away, as if an arrow could come screaming in at any moment.

It is not until you are standing up, groggily, that he addresses you. “Did you have a good rest, Father?” The young man’s extremely pale blonde hair (a trait of his late mother, not you,) falls around his eyes, as he turns to look to you, grinning. His smile is not the only thing that cracks his face, though, and he sports a scar, under his left eye, from nose to ear, that crinkles with the motion.

Slowly, you nod. “Aye, son, though I slept longer than I intended.” Nodding once more, with burgeoning purpose and energy, you say, “You’re home, for good, then?”

Standing, letting his sword’s sheath hang loose from his hip, Wilhelm nods, brushing the hair from his face. Gods, he’s tall. Taller than Klaus, or you at his age. “Yes, Father, when I heard of the trouble, I rushed home as soon as I could. Don’t worry, though- Frederick is handling the rest of the bandits.” Your youngest son frowns, gritting his teeth in anger, and clenching an upraised fist. “Not a single hair on your head shall be touched, Father, I swear it on my honor as your son.”

Sighing, you pat him on the shoulder, and offer him a smile. “I accept your oath, Wilhelm. Now, is your poor horse even still alive? You were a three-day ride away, if I recall, and you made it in one.”

Shrugging, Wilhelm smiles in return, saying, “I don’t know, I just passed it to the stableboys, then rushed here, where Franz told me you were. It’s just a horse, your safety is more important.” And there it is again, that cocksure attitude, that gave him that scar in the first place.

Pick 2-
>”More is going on here than you realize, son, it might be more dangerous than simple assassins.” (Tell him)
>”Do try and take more care of your things, Wilhelm, any lower man would kill for a horse, it’s expensive.”
>”Thank you, son. Did you see anyone else on the road? Is Hellman returning?”
>”How is Frederick? Still keeping his hands full, I assume?”
[Write-in.]

>>4342952
>"I'll be sure to see your training accelerated. You're gifted, and I wish to see you flourish."
>"Do try and take more care of your things, Wilhelm, any lower man would kill for a horse, it's expensive."

>>4343027
+1

>>4343027
>>4343033
Writing!

>>4343043
Update is coming sometime today; I'm just posting this so the thread doesn't get pruned.

>>4342952
You shake your head, disappointed, but still appreciative of your son’s efforts.”Do try and take more care of your things, Wilhelm, any lower man would kill for a horse, it’s expensive.”

He cocks his head. “But Father, we are no lower men, yes? Even if it were to collapse and die, we have a stable full of others.” You sigh, rubbing your face. As a third son yourself, you appreciated everything you had; your elder brothers were the ones living in luxury. An attempt to spare all of your children of any want has lead to this, you suppose. You had the same warhorse for ten years, a beautiful stallion known as… You scratch your head. What was that surly beast’s name… ah, right, it was very simple. Charger. You had formed a bond, until it was killed in the war. Wilhelm, by contrast, seems to be unhorsed due to equine death with quite alarming frequency, especially for a trained warrior; you’re lucky that his skill with the sword is unmatched.

“Regardless-” Wilhelm perks up at the sound of your voice, hanging onto every word, “while I would not deny you what you need to fight, please, Wilhelm, don’t singlehandedly depopulate the stables of Ravomsk chargers. It would not do to have my son charge into battle on some Pzyczian rat horse, which can barely hold a proper man of Hochland.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

The nineteen-year-old man hears you, but doesn’t seem to have listened. You sigh yet again, shaking your head. Maybe he’ll listen to what you have to say next. “Despite your unfortunate habit of losing horses-” he scoffs, “I have decided on one thing. I’ll be sure to have your training under Franz accelerated. You’re gifted,” (on foot, you think,) “and I wish to see you flourish.”

This makes the young man grin. “Thank you, Father! I won’t let you down!” And with that, you head off into the castle, listening to Wilhelm chatter excitedly about his battlefield experience. He tells you of how he single handedly fought off a group of twelve highwaymen, how his band protected a caravan of merchants, how he fought a bandit captain side by side with Frederick, etc, etc. His tales would be outlandish, for any other person. However, you fully believe your son, he’s not one to waste time with embellishments.

This continues for a while; until you part ways, your son having his own duties to handle, now that he has returned, and you, having a Moot to plan for.

(Cont.)

>>4352354
Hellman had returned sometime during your nap, your best friend rushing back to Castle Hohenwald as soon as the Volkjaeger had caught up with him. Fortunately, Hellman, Adelheid, and little Gebhard had not made it very far along the road, taking a slower pace, for the child’s comfort. Reportedly, the caravan picked up the pace, once Hellman separated from it, sending his personal guards along with his daughter and grandchild. He stays by your side, in the weeks leading up to the Moot; rarely leaving your sight. The same could be said for your children; if not Klaus, then it is Wilhelm, or Otto and Lena, they, and by extension, their Volkjaeger guards, follow you. Even Vladimir, your High Druid, joins your coterie, though he rarely, if ever, says anything.

There are no further blatant incidents of subterfuge, which immediately sets off alarm horns. The soldier in you is constantly on edge; keeping your sword under your pillow, never leaving the presence of a Volkjaeger, and constantly moving slowly, checking corners, in your own damned castle. Part of you is agitated, anticipatory, the other part is infuriated. That you should need to show such caution in the greatest fortress of the age is ridiculous. It withstood the single longest siege in the history of Hochland, a bloody two-year affair, where the defenders lasted thirteen months, before relief came in the form of wild folk of the moors slaughtering the siege camp. And you cower from a strange Druid with blue blood. Utterly ridiculous.

However, you understand the caution, moreso than the others in your court. If you underestimated these assassins, even for a second, you would present a chink in your armor; one able to be exploited. After the attempt on your life that heralded the old war, you fully embraced the King of Wolves; the brave soldier, the cowardly beast, the vicious plotter. It was the only way you survived- but no, dwelling on the past, has become a problem of yours, as of late. You’ve seen it often, in old men, large or small, living through the greatest years of their lives, and ignoring the now.

Well, you don’t have that luxury- not anymore.

(Cont.)

>>4352355
Sitting on your throne, you look down at the grand round table, brought into your throne room by servants and a carpenter, who painstakingly took it apart, and put it back together, here, for the Moot. The carpenter, a villein named Axel something-or-other, has done this before, for previous Moots, and thus, directed the work with great efficiency. Surrounding the roundtable, meant for the Jarls Liebrecht and Scholzlang, and all the King’s Theign, are chairs, and behind those, standing areas, meant for the citylords of Hochland, and all the Jarls’ Median Theign. These are currently filled, as the various lords of the realm whisper quietly amongst themselves, having clearly heard the rumors, if not before, when they arrived at the Castle Hohenwald. Both Hellman, and Jarl Schulz Scholzlang sit opposite the table from where your chair would be, were you not seated upon your throne, and they are surrounded on either side by twenty King’s Theign.

But a few seats are empty, and you motion to your left side, where Johann, your Master of Intelligence, and leader of the Ravens stands. This gets his attention, and he leans closer, attentive. “Yes, My Lord?”

“I trust you know why several of my Theign are missing, as well as some of my citylords?” Looking over the crowd, it appears that even some of Hellman and Schulz’ lesser lords are missing, a negligible amount, but enough to give you cause for concern, especially with super-powered assassins about.

Frowning, Johann mutters to you, “I have my suspicions, but they are yet just that- suspicions. The Volkjaeger sent to their lands returned, having delivered the message, but…” He trails off, scanning the crowd. “There is nothing to prevent foul play from occurring after the message was delivered.”

Stroking your beard, you nod. Thinking for another long second, you say, “Franz, get their attention.” Without hesitation or question, the younger man smacks the butt of his two-handed Hochlander axe against the cold grey marble of the floor, the sound ringing out in the large room, quieting the murmur of conversation.

All eyes are on you.

>(An uncompromising opening to the Moot.)
>(A subtle opening to the Moot.)
>(An urgent opening to the Moot.)
>[Write-in.]

>>4352357
>(An uncompromising opening to the Moot.)

>>4352357
>>(An uncompromising opening to the Moot.)

>>4352357
>>(An uncompromising opening to the Moot.)

>>4352357
>>(An uncompromising opening to the Moot.)

>>4352365
>>4352379
>>4352413
>>4352423
Calling the vote due to its unanimous nature! Writing, and thanks for being patient with me!