Part 46

The Shameless info Dump!

Think of it as an intermission if you will, told rather than shown, painting the scene for you before I introduce two new characters … if this was a film this would be your montage …

Back at the Capital…

Traditionally most tales end at the point of their revolution. The evil tyrant is slain, the people saved and everyone is united under the same banner. The crowds cheer their new leaders, there are celebrations in the streets and everybody lives happily ever after,  the hero falls in love with the shy female protagonist, they ride into the sunset… Credits Roll… however…

The capital city is struggling,  beyond capacity, people are still starving and all resources stretched thin. The palace has become a shelter for those from the slums, a hospital for the diseased and infirm. As well as a functioning military headquarters. People rioted, change was taking too long, they resented the barbarian presence, that the wild men from the wastelands were taking their precious commodities. The threat of war from The Kings surviving heir and the Elite Twelve is a very real threat, haunting Fendor’s troubled thoughts. Even with the barbarians, the armies from the Northern Clan Territories and the men who had remained loyal to him… He knew they would be evenly matched, but, with having so many citizens to protect, Fendor feared the city could once again be over thrown.

Novana’s pregnancy,  such as Alleia’s, appeared to take on a rapid development. Yet Novana ceased to rest, stubbornly refusing to let anyone down. Personally working amid the worst of conditions to try and aid everyone who brought forth a sob story, relations between herself and Fendor became as fragile as the delicate economy. He was a traditionalist, expected his pregnant woman to be at home, to feather her nest, rest her swollen ankles to be all apron clad and providing hand cooked meals for her man. Yet Novana was from the far south, more wild and passionate in cause and temper. She would work with the lepers,  feed those ridden with pox and Fendor hated her as much as he desired her…

Lord Pepe Montoto had packed up and left his estate in the Northern Clan Territories, having chosen a beautiful coastal home,  not too far from the Midpoint Lighthouse, where he could retire in peace and luxury. Carelessly ignoring the chaos descending upon the land in favour of his own selfish decadent lifestyle, awaiting to hear news of Alleia’s labour so he could claim the baby as his own.

The Northern Clan Territories are currently under the guardianship of one certain Master Davenport, you’ve met him already, the thin character with a skill for the knife and instructions to keep Kane’s stay in the dungeons most unpleasant. Master Davenport is one of Pepe’s lovers, as well as a twisted torturer he has a keen military mind. Choosing to put the needs of the Clans first, much to Fendor’s frustration. Only after the borders are secure,  the harvest inventory and supplies are evenly distributed among his own people… Then, and only then will he send men he can spare with resources he is willing to donate to the capital. Not exactly what Fendor had hoped for,  he wanted unlimited access to the territories, but Pepe had insisted upon a guardian and Master Davenport proved to be a reluctant ally.

Hera returns to the wilds of the DeepWood Forest, going back to her old ways of the wise woman, healer, midwife, witch… With Brynn and her sheep as her neighbours on the edge of the trees, small settlements evolve at the borders of the land. Farmers and simple folk who prefer a humble life in small hamlets rather than facing the struggles in the capital city. These small village communities rely on Hera in the woods for medicines and births, it’s a tough but content little lifestyle, but guilt still haunts the old woman’s dreams…

Sometimes,  happily ever after doesn’t exist, only troubles, struggles and threats remain. Fendor’s grasp on rulership is fragile to say the least, the amount of stress he’s buried under becomes unbearable and he soon finds peace at the bottom of a whiskey bottle…

Anne Harrison 12.03.17


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s