[i][center]72nd of Zieliah, 698[/i][/center]

To the men of Noctua, or Aglil, Riddom was a rude, rural affair. What in Karvina or the Riverlands would constitute a small, provincial town was the seat of power of House Anselm. There were no glittering spires to be found here; no awesome temples, towering ramparts, or pristine canals. The seat of the Weald was but a modest port on the stony shore of the Green Gulf. Bark and thatched roofs poked over a palisade made not of chisled alabaster or granite, but lichen-painted timbers. Thin, wispy trails of smoke melted into an overcast sky amongst the masts of moored cogs from the Greenwood or Karvina. The town's unimpressive skyline was made whole by a cobblestone edifice looking out to sea from above a rocky promontory above the wharves: Gullstone Hall.

To Lord Barad Anselm, Riddom was home.

Herds of sheep scattered before Lord Anselm as he rode on across the rolling hills to the gate – a wooden door of knotty oak encircled by a crude arch of cobbles. Elite city guards clad in silk tabards and polished armor were nowhere to be found here; the southern gate of Riddom was guarded by a pair of bored serfs dressed in studded leather tunics and oversized kettle hats dripping with the misty drizzle falling over the land. As their lord approached, they unbolted the gate and saluted Barad with their right arms balled into a fist over their chest as he cantered through the portcullis and into the city.

Clods of earth mixed with rich-smelling manure shot forth from the hooves of Lord Anselm's horse as he rode through the streets of Riddom, a far cry from the paved thoroughfares of Skyhaven from whence he had returned. Chickens scratched greedily through the ruts of the same streets that men and horses trod, which darted jerkily out of the path of Barad's steed. Serfs and low bergers too steered out of the way of the Lord as he rode up the hill. Clouds of frosty vapor puffed forth from their nostrils, their hands rubbing together to keep warm. It was the chill that hung in this northern air that was the cause of their lord's visit to the South; even the great lords themselves were worried by the cold. They looked up to their lord expectantly, seemingly hoping that some development from that summit in great Skyhaven would avert this coming winter.

Barad hoped for the same.

Atop the hill of Gullstone, Barad jerked the reigns, commanding his horse to stop with an irritated snort. He slid out from his saddle and handed the reigns off to another under-armored guard standing watch upon the steps of Gullstone Hall to stable. With no more fanfare than he had received at the gates, he clasped the iron hoops and drew open the doors to his home and seat of power – however modest it might be.

Just as soon as the warmth from inside the hall overcame him, a patter of small footsteps rumbled across the floorboards.

“Papa!!” A giddy child squealed. The scowl for which Barad “the Bitter” ceased to exist once he heard the boy's cheer, who proceeded to throw himself at his father.

“Thadeos!” Barad chuckled heartily as he scooped the little boy into his arms and swung him about. He was no older than five turns, and light enough for Lord Anselm to carry and move through the air. The boy squealed and giggled as Barad swung him around through the air, before letting him down gently onto one of a number of cushions circled around a roaring hearth hearth, mussing up a head of silky, ruddy hair.

“Again! Again!!” Little Thadeos demanded. No sooner than Barad could respond, a pair of arms came around his belly and squeezed him.

“Father!” The voice of young woman exclaimed from behind him. He spun about to find his eldest child and only daughter, clad in an orange, velveteen dress. She had a gaunt, mousy face, dominated by piercing, green eyes. The very beginnings of breasts from underneath her dress suggested she had seen perhaps fourteen turns of the wheel.

“My Elise.” He declared, stooping down and parting black, wavy hair to plant a kiss upon her forehead. He glanced around the empty hall with its tall amber windows pattering now fatter raindrops. “And where is your mother?” Barad ignored the little one tugging on his tabard.

“In the pantry, I should think.” Elise reported. “What was Skyhaven like?”

“Did you see an elephant?!” Thadeos blurted.

“Bigger than I imagined. The city is carved into the top of the mountain, one can see for leagues around just from the lower levels where I stayed. I imagine I'll never see anything like it as long as I live.”

“Papa! Did you see an elephant there!?”

“No...” Barad reported dejectly, then grinning. “I saw [i]two[/i] elephants! All the way from Odesh!”

“Wooooow...”

“They could barely fit in this hall, they were so big!” Barad stretched his arms out as far as he could for emphasis. Elise shot a nervous glance across the hall and then looked away, drawing Barad's eyes to the newest one to welcome him. He came to to his feet and turned to face the sound of heavy bootfalls across the floorboards.

“Sir Alfric!” Barad cheered, opening his arms to accept the approaching man in embrace. A wall of chainmail collided with Barad, heavy slaps thumping upon his back as they closed the embrace before backing off to a respectful distance.

“Good t'have ya back, m'lord... and in one piece.” The knight graveled. “'Fraid one of them might'a tried t'poison ya or somethin' fer a vote.”

“Thankfully not!” Barad chuckled.

“Can't say I envy ya. A man like me doesn't have a lot'a patience for that sort'a politics and pissdrinkin'.” Sir Alfric swore. Barad smiled sheepishly and turned to his children.

“Elise, be a dear and see where you mother is... Thadeos, why don't you and play outdoors for a bit?” Without protest, Elise sauntered off and Thadeos skipped out the front door. With both children out of earshot of any other potential profanities from Sir Alfric, Barad continued.

“We have a Regent. Shamgar governs on behalf of the Paragon boy until he is of age... Heldan appointed himself the Seeker of Secrets and remains in Skyhaven for the time being.”

“I was wond'rin' where that old cretin had gotten off'ta! Our very own Heldan the Seeker of Secrets?”

“I must say I wasn't too thrilled by the appointment.” Barad admitted. “These are to be difficult times and I would like him be my side through it all.”

“Pfh! Might do us all some good t'have him snoopin' about a little less. Anything else'a import from Skyhaven?”

“Heldan suggested that I sell my vote for the Regent. Lord James Conrad of the Sharktooth Isles had been campaigning heavily for votes in favor of his regency. Heldan asked jewels of him in exchange for my vote?”

“Jewels?” Alfric snorted. “What would we some soddin' gems for?”

“House Anselm is not a prosperous house.” Barad reminded. “We will need some tangible capital in these coming days for my machinations.”

“Machinations? What in Kammeth's name is a machination?”

“Erm... Designs, plans.” Barad rephrased. It was not the first time he had overestimated the knight's vocabulary.

“Are they really your plans?” Asked Alfric dubiously, “or Heldan's?”

It was then that Thadeos had slid through the cracked front door and ran over to his father and the knight.

“Papa!” Come outside! Look and see!” The boy demanded with excited urgency. Barad and Sir Alfric followed behind Thadeos and stepped out into the cold air beyond the threshold.

The guards at the foot of the cobblestone steps to Gullstone Hall had their full attention to the sky, their hands held gingerly up to the clouds. Thadeos giggled gleefully as he did the same as the guards: pointing a finger up to the sky, as if trying to catch something on the tip of his index finger. His finger made jerky arcs through the air before catching a single white speck upon the tip of his finger.

“White rain!” Thadeos giggled, presenting the quickly-melting speck to Barad and Alfric.