Geirlaug, as was usual when dealing with the southern clans, had largely been avoided. She had an effect on most men that usually went one of two directions, they either steered clear out of fear, or they got drunk, cozied up to her and told her they would like to "climb her". She preferred the former to the latter since small southern men tended to have small southern cocks and no one wanted that.

She was one her third "mug" of mead when the High Queen and her son had entered the Hall to sit on the dais. Everyone bowed, even Evar Varvudda, but only enough to be polite, as the Royal Party took their seats. The High Queen was a beauty, even Geirlaug could see that. High cheek bones, sharp chin, long raven black hair and the thin body type so common in the Salished lands, all very serving to make her stand out amongst the more heavily built Northerners. Geirlaug expected Varvudda to open with a suggestion that he marry her and so unite the two clans into one. If she was in his position, that was what she would do. The High Queen might be repulsed at the idea, but it would secure the throne, her sons wellbeing, and put her most dangerous neighbour firmly into her camp, and bed of course.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the Goldwood Clan and she was delighted to see that some of their famous mead had come with them. Anything that didn't look like liquid bread was hard to come by in the far north and she was genuinely pleased, quickly signalling a slave girl to fetch her several mugs worth. The Goldwood Jarl himself looked like a child, and she was fairly certain he was one. She refrained from chuckling to herself and even more so from asking him if he had even begun to shave as he sat down. He was friendly enough and that was welcome. She offered him a polite nod and a half smile when he sat nearby.

"All parties have arrived, or at least all those we can reasonably expect to attend," Evar began as the Goldwood Jarl and his companions found their seats.

[i]And it begins...[/i] Geirlaug accepted her small collection of mugs from the slave girl and sipped at it. It was delicious. She raised the mug in a silent toast to the Goldwood Jarl and then leaned back against the wall to listen as Varvudda began his speech.

Varvudda, as expected, was a swaggering dick on legs. He strutted up and down as if the event were a forgone conclusion. If looks could have killed, Varvudda would have been slain on the spot as he began to speak, the High Queen was clearly not impressed. Geirlaug supposed that manners would have dictated that Varvudda at least allow her to welcome her guests. It could be seen as a sign of weakness that she did not interrupt him and do just that. 

"Such a time of uncertainty and peril has manifested itself with the passing of Aigoth Stone Foot. The royal son will doubtlessly come to be a capable ruler of these lands. But for now, however, Aigoth II is merely a child and our realm must have sound leadership until the boy has come of age. Leadership we will not find in our High Queen."

[i]This is it.[/i] She thought with a small smile on her face. [i]The great Jarl Varvudda will offer to take up the mantel and marry the boys mother.[/i] She would oppose such a move of course. Varvudda was hardly the leader Aigoth Stone Foot had been, he had shown that in his usurpation of the High Queens own hall at this moment. She might even offer to marry the High Queen herself, to make a mockery of the man. Though, one had to be careful, it was possible the High Queen's tastes ran that way and she might accept.

What came next left Geirlaug slightly dumbfounded. The arrogant prick actually wanted the assembly to proclaim him "peer". Why not just use the word High King? Trying to disguise ambition with some fancy term seemed like a pathetic ploy. Ambition she could understand. She was going to have none of it.

She stood, the savage beauty of her face with its one destroyed eye glowing in the light of the twin fires. "Jarl Geirlaug Åsmundottir of the Broken Hammer Clan," She began, one should always introduce themselves. "Will not support Jarl Varvudda's claim for [i]peer[/]," Contempt dripped off her tongue as she said the word. "Until he has given us some idea of his qualifications for the position."

She looked around the room, dominating it with her height and size. She met the eye of every man who would meet hers, the High Queen, and even that of the Boy King who was staring at her in amazement.

"You have done nothing but tell us how the High Queen cannot rule. Did she not marry Aigoth Stone Foot and live as his High Queen and partner? Did she not witness him rule these lands? Did she not take part in making decisions that affected us all? Maybe the Jarl Varvudda has forgotten, but women are capable rulers in their own right."

A round of chuckles went around the room at that. Some of the Northmen tended to think they did all the fighting and women were for breeding. She did not know anything of Varvudda's own family but his comments had led her to believe he was one of those types, all dick and no brains.

"If the Jarl Varvudda can provide us some proof that he is fit to rule based on more than the simple reminder that we are all of the Broken Lands, then perhaps the Broken Hammer can support his desire to be High King. Though, we will also hear the High Queen and any other hopefuls speak before we make any such choice."

She finished speaking, offered a short nod to Varvudda and then the High Queen before sitting again, taking back up her cup of Goldwood mead and sipping it back.