[center][h1][b][u]Brundt[/u][/b][/h1][/center] [hr] Brundt was out of his depth. He had never managed an army before. He had never even led a warband. He had been trained in tactics and combat as part of his upbringing, but in truth he had no real experience. Some part of him wished that he had never lifted the hammer. Or that he had refused the position. Thousands of lives weighed on him, and he was not ready. Now he had no choice but to try his best. At least it wasn’t all bad. Milos had been the son of a Lord-Captain, and had been taught logistics out of necessity. He was of great help in making sense of the previous Lord-Captain’s notes and records, as well as advice in general. Brundt had also spoken to the men who had returned from Abbas’s ill-fated endeavour. The stories they told were conflicting, but troubling either way. Some claimed they had been set upon by only a handful of men, but every shot had found its mark, and every shot had been lethal. Others claimed they had been surrounded by a force of hundreds. The only constant was the involvement of a man named ‘Carnelian’, who allowed them to surrender on the condition that they would never take up arms against him again. It was a dangerous thing, to break an oath. But even if they were willing to risk Tekret’s wrath, Brundt looked into their eyes and knew nothing could compel them to risk Carnelian’s. Such a strange name… Ultimately, he realized he could not launch another offensive. They only had a few weeks of autumn left. That was not enough time to replenish their losses, yet alone launch a campaign. Besides, how could he be sure whatever host he raised wouldn’t be crushed as the first one had? He knew not what he was dealing with. Was it magic, or the blessing of a god? Magic, they could counter. The blessing of a god would be hard. So in the end, they had to opt for what many would perceive as inaction. The war must resume in the Spring. And if he intended to recruit from the surrounding villages, he would need to wait until planting season was over. The best he could do was send some scouts into the countryside, to hopefully keep watch for any enemy activity. So with a resigned sigh, Brundt prepared himself for the long winter that lay ahead. [hr] Autumn gave way winter, and as expected, nobles were already defying his authority; the Cult in particular. The city had been placed under a Regency Council, with Brundt, Varsilis, and Trehe being included on it, but at least one of the members was sympathetic to the Cult, and he proved to be a thorn in their side when it came to actually governing the city. As for Brundt, his ability to command the army was being thwarted in several small ways. Orders were lost or ignored. Supplies were delayed or withheld. Commoners took to the streets in protest of the higher food prices, even though such a thing occurred every winter. The guard did their best to investigate it, and from time to time someone was arrested, but they found nothing to directly implicate the cult’s inner circle. [hr] Brundt sighed with frustration. He sat at the Lord-Captain’s desk. He was one of the most powerful men in the city, but he felt powerless. All he could do was receive reports, or inspect the army and its walls. Normally his job would have been to coordinate raids as well, but in the midst of winter such efforts were pointless. The enemy would not march in the winter, for the same reason as Brundt. But when spring came, they would come, and he had to be ready. The soldiers of Ketrefa’s army seemed loyal enough. Most of those who had been converted into the cult had died following Abbas. Both the House of Perfection and the House of Order had been doing everything in their power to spin a narrative that Abbas’s defeat was due to his lack of faith in the Five. A soldier had to pray to Cadien for strength and Tekret for discipline. Going into battle with the favour of only one goddess, and a love goddess at death, had been foolhardy, they had said. As a result, even the soldier-cultists who hadn’t been present at the battle had begun to distance themselves from the cult, and discard their amulets. The common soldiery, or at least most of it, was his. The army’s officers were another problem. They were in a similar position to the soldiery, surprisingly enough. Many were faithful men and women, who held the gods close at heart - all five of them. There had once been a considerable portion of cultists among their ranks, but again, most had been killed in the battle, for Abbas had prioritized bringing leaders he could trust. As far as religion went, they at least carried the same beliefs as Brundt. That didn’t mean they were all confident in him, however. He was, as they had called him for years, an outsider. A barbarian. A savage. The majority had grudgingly accepted him, since he had the patronage of both religious orders, had been educated as a noble, and bore the name of a house once known for martial prowess. But he knew that at least some of them secretly despised him, and they were the source of some of his frustrations. The bulk of his frustrations came from the civilians under the cult’s yoke. But, he had the army. It would be a simple enough act, to march two hundred men into the Court of Flames and arrest all the nobles who were rumoured to be involved. The cultists who infested the army’s ranks might be able to make themselves a nuisance, but being a nuisance would not be enough to thwart such a force. The act itself would be simple, but the consequences would be not. Their followers would rise up, and the city would burn. The streets would run red with blood, and Brundt did not wish to order the slaughter of misguided slaves and citizens. Especially when there were many who only joined because they had valid misgivings with the status quo. And it would leave the city weaker, to boot. That left one other option. Varsilis would not like it, but if he was to lead the city, then he would need the entire city united behind him. He had to make a deal. So, he called an aide, wrote a message, and sent it off. He doubted they would agree to a meeting, but it was worth an attempt. Two days later, a messenger from the office of magistrate Matan from the lower quarters came with a missive; the Lord-Captain was invited to the estate of House Anestra, a minor and unimportant branch house of the defunct Akellos family - stricken from notice after the passing of their patriarch and sole living member. Though details were sparse, the invitation was for 'matters of the clergy'. The implications were clear. Brundt considered the invitation for a moment. It was a risk, and yet, one side would have to take a risk in order for a meeting like this to occur. Then he thought about it further, and decided that if it was some sort of trap, he could likely fight his way out if needed. He was, after all, the strongest man in the city, if not the entire highlands, and mundane blades could not pierce his skin. So, with an escort of a dozen men, he set out. The path to the estate brought him through the worst of what the cult had to offer, barricaded and dilapidated districts in total disarray. Hungry and worried citizens were clashing with guards and each other, and houses were likewise quickly blockaded when he made his way past. He had seen it before - but recent events were like a spark of flame to tinder. Peasants clamoured for help and cursed him and his men with equal measure, demanded the aid of the gods, or loudly decried all but Neiya. Worse, the rowdy crowds seemed to incense each other, and as soon as he stepped foot in a cult-aligned district, the guards were few and far between at best. Destruction, littering, defacing. It had become the norm of much of Ketrefa, under the cult's guidance. That all changed when he found himself wandering into the old Water Gardens, a small district where many low-rank nobles made their home, named for it's once many beautiful riverside villas. It was now firmly in Cult territory on all sides, yet none of the devastation seemed to have reached it. Well-tended houses, flocks of active servants working as though nothing had changed. On each of the houses he passed sat a single emblem above the entrance - the heart of Neiya. So too with the Anestra estate, a modest villa at the end of a dirt road with two well-dressed men stood guard outside. Brundt recognized their dress from another time, they wore the same outfits as the men and women who had barred entrance for the ceremony during his last visit to a cult district. Brundt approached the front entrance with his men behind him. “I am Lord-Captain Brundt,” he said in an authoritative tone. “I have been invited here for a meeting.” The two men said nothing, simply taking a step to the side. Their eyes fell on his escort, not all of whom seemed pleased to fall under scrutiny. Again, nothing was said, allowing Brundt entry to the estate itself. His guards remained behind, with Gelos leading them. The Anestra estate was an ode to a bygone time in all ways, with art and heraldry lining the walls that many seemed to have lost an appetite for in the chaotic decades past. Hundreds of religious artifacts were pinned to a silken sheet, as if to put them on immediate display when one entered. The sheet itself was stained with an expensive blue. On closer inspection, none of the symbology appeared to belong to Neiya - though Brundt found himself looking at a whole plethora of lost Cadien amulets, staves, and miscellaneous artifacts. Two servants conversed at the end of a small water feature, their conversation quieting when the tall man entered. Wordlessly, a fair young woman stood up, smiled at him, and gestured further into the estate. Brundt carried on, frowning at the clearly-stolen artifacts. Perhaps he should try negotiating for their return, if possible. That would help soften the reactions of his supporters if he did somehow come to an agreement today. Carried past further relics of the city as he swung through hallways filled with liberated artifacts and artworks. Finally, he found himself in a lounging room. It was lavishly decorated, fit for a room in the royal family's home, with pillows and soft silk spread on almost every conceivable surface. Centered in the room was a woman, at least a decade his senior by Brundts estimate. She wore a thinly woven blue gown that left little to the imagination, and rose when he entered the room. "Ah, the esteemed Lord-Captain. Welcome to my humble abode, I am Mira Anestra, the heiress of my father's estate." She posited with a pleasant tone and extended her hand languidly. Brundt took the offered hand and kissed it, as was the custom. “Do you know why I am here?” he asked her. The woman pushed a lock of brown hair from her face and smiled, gesturing for him to sit soon after. "It's good manners to come when invited," she professed. "Would you like something to eat or drink while we talk, my lord?" “That won’t be necessary, my lady,” Brundt answered. “I’d prefer to get to business.” Mira sighed softly, but maintained a gentle smile. “As you wish, my lord. Please, speak your piece. This is a safe haven for all.” she gave before gently tugging at her gown and sliding back down on the pillows from whence she came. Brundt’s gaze couldn’t help but drift downward as she tugged at her gown, but he quickly corrected it, and found a seat. “I’m here to talk about the war,” he said. “More specifically, your people’s contributions to it, or lack thereof.” She scoffed quietly, a small smile plied onto her features. “And what is it you want ‘my people’ to do, my lord? We’re simply faithfuls making a life for ourselves in this chaotic world. Have you felt the Goddess love?” “I am the Champion of Cadien,” Brundt reminded her. “But I hold all gods in equal esteem.” Mira offered a soft chuckle, running her hands up to stream through her hair before tilting her head to cast it backwards, eyes on Brundt. "That's not something I think is possible, my lord, but I respect your choice to believe so." She mused politely, before lifting her fingers to wave across the room. The young woman from before rushed across the room with two cups and an amphora. She began to pour what appeared to be wine as Mira continued to speak. "Once you have felt the love of the Goddess, it is impossible to recognize that another could be as great." Brundt studied her expression carefully. “I’m not so certain of that.” He touched his fingers to his scarred cheek. “What I do know, is that I was rescued from a fire by Evandra. I was healed by worshipers of Gibbou, I was named the Champion of Cadien by the House of Perfection, and I was supported by Tekret’s House of Order. Why dedicate myself to one deity when I have received the aid of multiple?” "To me," she began, wafting away the wine girl to reach for a filled cup. "It sounds like only Evandra has truly come to your aid. How is that different from what we do in the city?" Mira smiled at him gracefully, and tilted the cup gently in his direction, offering it to him with both hands. Brundt accepted the cup and tilted it against his mouth, but he did not allow the liquid to pass his lips. “It is different,” he insisted. “The Houses of Perfection and Order do not flout the city’s laws. They do not vandalize districts or turn them against the other gods. They do not resist the commands of the Lord-Captain as an army rises to destroy all that they hold dear.” Mira smiled warmly at him and lowered her hands to elegantly sweep up the other cup. She nestled it in her lap, bunching up her gown gently. "We do not do those things either, my lord. You operate with the assumption that we do anything. There is no culprit here. No order to hold accountable. We are just faithful men and women spreading the word of the Goddess." She sighed softly. "You came here of your own volition. Where is the vandalism here? The truth is that when unfettered by material needs, people do what they wish, rather than what their lord wishes." “And the people have been allowed to do what they wish for far too long,” Brundt told her, whilst fighting to maintain eye contact. “If this is occurring because you are doing nothing, then I would advise that you do something. Those people will not realize the danger until it is too late, and if our city falls, then both your life and theirs will be destroyed.” "I know many of my compatriots are intending to depart. Perhaps with the right incentives, they could be persuaded to take a stand." She offered without shame, lifting her cup to take a short sip. Her gaze fixed on Brundt over the rim, and it lingered there to mask her features. "If as you say, my lord, you are unable to have the people heed you, perhaps you require assistance." “Leave in the winter,” Brundt began, finally taking a sip of his own cup, “and most of them will freeze to death. Leave in the spring, and there are still dangers - trolls, and the risk that Carnelian’s army will catch them. They’ll be without friends, for Ketrefa isn’t particularly beloved these days, and they’ll have only what they can carry. Even if they do survive, whatever life they live won’t be safe, or comfortable. But if they stay here, and contribute to the city’s defense, they can keep their lives and their wealth. What more incentive do they need?” Mira lowered her cup, smiling a Brundt with a trained elegance. "These are trials of the body, Lord-Captain. I do not fault you for locking yourself into such a dungeon of thought - you are a champion of the body, after all," she replied demurely, her own gaze travelling over his features before returning to meet his eyes. "My kin have shorn such needs, as long as our spirit is sated. They want a house of worship." Brundt raised an eyebrow. “Do you not have such places already?” "Only what other clergy have abandoned in these trying times. The worship of the Goddess represented by the old men and women at the Temple of Love does not align with the true nature or meaning of being one with Her. As such, it won't do for us of the true faith to wander their flecked halls." Mira explained, absentmindedly drawing a ring with a finger by her collarbones. "But perhaps if we were allowed to use, say, the old Citadel chambers by the palace…" Brundt considered the proposal. In truth, it was not technically within his power to grant, but he could perhaps make it a reality if he pushed hard enough. “If I were to agree to this,” he said guardedly. “I would need certain assurances in return.” "Let me assure you, Lord-Captain. I am fully at your disposal." Mira gave in turn, smiling at him still as her cup lifted to her lips once more. Brundt wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that smile. “The attacks against guards, soldiers, and preachers must end. The thefts of religious artifacts, and the defacements of temples, must end. And I’ll need you to convince your people to join the militias and the army; to contribute to the city’s defense. If you do this, then there can be mutual tolerance between our two faiths.” She watched him for a time, making a point of slowly drinking from her cup as if to afford herself natural space to think. When the cup came down, she gently rubbed her lips together. "Given our rightful space, I can promise none of my brethren shall call for the defilement of the city in these trying times. And we can call for the citizens to take up arms, but they must be cared for by the city. Food, weapons." She concluded with a diplomatic tone. "And we would like an official advisor in your council." “Those terms seem agreeable enough,” Brundt nodded slowly. “So long as your people pay the taxes they owe, providing rations and weaponry should not bring much difficulty. So, do we have an agreement?” "I agree to your terms, Lord-Captain. It shall be my foremost mission to inspire my kin with your intent," she extended a hand for him languidly across the seat of pillows. "I've no doubt that together we shall change the path of Ketrefa forever. For the survival and flourishing of this majestic city." Brundt took the hand and kissed it. Then, he raised his glass. “To survival,” he agreed. She offered him a beaming smile, lifting her own in response. "With the aid of the Goddess, anything is possible. Keep that in mind, Lord-Captain, when all this settles." Brundt nodded in response. “Now, is there anything else or shall I be on my way?” "Well, Lord-Captain, it's not often I keep such distinguished guests. And judging from what little I know of you-... you don't play houseguest all that often." Mira professed politely. "I was hoping we'd soothe each other's souls in these troubled times. Get to know each other. We may yet end up working together closely, after all." Already her hand lifted to wave over the young woman with a pitcher, and the attendant danced over the pillows gingerly to begin another pour. “Not many nobles are willing to host a disfigured barbarian,” Brundt pointed out, with some bitterness, “regardless of what titles he holds.” Mira shifted closer on the pillow-covered floor, settling her cup next to his. Her hand extended once more, this time to place on his chest with confident but graceful motion. "Do not mistake me for a common noble, my lord; a thief of wealth and delinquent administrator. You'll find no such misplaced inhumanity in my household - or those of my kin. All are equal before the Goddess. Permitted to experience and enjoy in her vigil." Brundt considered the offer. He still did not trust these people, yet he had made an alliance with them, so he had to at least pretend to be polite, just as they pretended to tolerate him. “Very well. I suppose I can stay for a little longer. How do you propose we soothe each other?” "Well - perhaps you'd stay for dinner. Sample what we have to offer; it's probably not what you're used to living in your fortress of wealth," She mused with a small smirk. "But until then, we could simply get to know each other." Mira continued quietly, and her free hand tugged gently at the neckline of her gown, dragging a shoulder free slowly. Brundt’s eyes widened slightly as he realized what was happening. “I… don’t think that’s…” he began nervously, his voice trailing off. "Did I misread your gaze, my lord?" Mira queried softly, her eyes fixed on him with a half-lidded demure expression. Her hand moved from his chest, slowly closing around his wrist. "I am but a humble resident of the city," she continued as she made a move to guide his own hand towards her. "I truly am at your full disposal. Let a simple servant of the Goddess care for you." Brundt could have easily torn his hand from her grip, and he knew that he should, but he didn’t. He tensed slightly when his palm made contact with her, and he considered the implications of her offer. This… had to be some sort of trick. Some sort of manipulation. Did she think that doing this would make him more likely to listen to her? Even he could see through that. And yet… she thought it would work. And, if he played along, she would think it [i]was[/i] working. Perhaps underestimate him, thinking he was already under her thumb. And surely that could only be an advantage? He gave her a nod. Yes, that’s why he was doing this, he lied to himself. A sacrifice, for the greater good. Nothing more. A warm smile flushed over the older woman’s features, and without looking away from him, she raised her voice to proffer a simple “Leave us” to the attendant still lounging around. Her hand brushed against his clothes again, demure and teasing after her own guiding. Mira drew herself against him slowly, lips pursing as she shifted upwards to push her face towards his. [hr] [hider=Post Summary] Brundt is settling into his office as Lord-Captain, but he’s struggling, because he has no real experience leading or administering an army. Meanwhile, the Cult of the Horned Goddess continues to cause trouble. Eventually he has enough, and decides to arrange a meeting to come to some sort of understanding. He meets Mira at her villa, and the two get down to talking. Brundt says their best hope for survival is to stand together, but Mira basically says that the cult’s leadership is getting ready to abandon the city. The two begin negotiating, and eventually reach and agreement. Mira will encourage the other cultists to be more cooperative with the city authorities, to stop stealing religious trinkets, and to encourage the people to contribute to the city’s defense. In return, the cult is to be granted an old building close to the palace, and is allowed to have an official representative on the city council. [/hider] [hider=Prestige Summary] [u]Brundt[/u] [b]Beginning Prestige:[/b] 13 +5 for 10k+ characters [b]Ending Prestige:[/b] 18 [u]Cult of the Horned Goddess[/u] [b]Beginning Prestige:[/b] 19 +5 for 10k+ characters [b]Ending Prestige:[/b] 24 [/hider]