The warriors of the Rest gathered in an encampment some distance away from the village of Ha-Gaard, an old Dûnan settlement that became independent during the civil war. A panicked Sid looked over the regional map carved into a wooden table, the colorful butterfly insignia affixed to his shoulder. 

He heard a loud voice calling his name before turning around and seeing a large woman in her early thirties, still able to carry her war maul with ease. Sid was relieved, respectfully bowing, “Hail Lara. I thought you were handling an issue in the farmlands south of the capital?” 

Lara smirked, walking up to the table and examining it closely, “I was making the journey home as you were off to go fight the kins-eater. There were a few trolls that my warband dispatched. Tell me, how has the expansion been faring?”

Sid nodded, “Tak is reconsolidating the former sunstrider territories. The queen and Rik have returned to the capital. Before I left, I had heard that Hera was attempting to make peace and recruit the true sons. The Constellars have been attempting to map the region and improve the roads.”

Lara raised an eyebrow at the mention of the true sons, “They are strange people, but I can’t not say that they aren’t skilled warriors. And I have been informed of Tak’s plan, and it seems reasonable enough. How have the negotiations with Ha-gaard been going?” 

Sighing, Sid replied, “It has been my responsibility to have such talks, and they insist they must remain neutral. I have seen their settlement, and they follow the Dunans example far closer than our own, I fear that they will side with them if there were ever a war.”  

Lara looked at the map again, “That is concerning. If the Dunans were to take Ha-Gaard, they would be in striking distance of Sungrace.” she paused and thought for a moment, “Right now, it is not a pressing matter to claim Ha-Gaard, but we can not allow the Dunans to have a foothold into our lands. We should reposition here.” she said, pointing to a spot on the map that was closer to the settlement, “And fortify it, and create another position here.” she pointed to a point off the map that was adjacent to the path between Ha-Dûna and Ha-Gaard. 

Sid seemed a bit concerned, “Do you think that might just provoke the Dunans?” 

Lara looked down at the map one last time, “It could, but if we were to provoke them, we must do it now. If we delay, we only give them a chance to regroup and prepare their assault against us. Send word to Tak and the queen that ” 

Some time later, Lara looked out over the path.The encampment was built into the ground and soldiers were busy felling trees and sharpening them into spikes to be buried into the ground and point outwards to any would be attackers. They have been keeping lookout for any travelers and sending them back in the direction that they came. 
Lara thought about how the negotiations with Ha-Gaard have become more strained, and the pressure she had placed upon the city, but she also thought to herself how they were reclaiming lands that were already theirs and Kirin’s Rest have been compensating in food and essentials more so than what they lost in trade with the north. She could hardly be moved that they were cut off from their supply of pipe-smoke, the mind-rotting junk that it is. 

Then, one day not too long after the erection of the camps, down the path between the crags leading north, there came a highland elk, topped with a white-cloaked individual. The rider was flanked on each side by ten warriors, all of whom wore their clan plaids thick to ward off the cold. Two carried spears from which tops banners danced in the wind - the green [i]Hir[/i], the emblem of Ha-Dûna. 

A horn was sounded in response, the warriors stopping any construction they were doing to cautiously grab their weapons and stand near what fortifications have already been made. 

Lara approached with two other guards, striding up to them and stating matter of factly, “The path is closed.” 

The rider on the elk looked around and nodded slowly. “So it seems, so it seems. That will certainly be an issue for me and my men, that.” She pulled off her hood to reveal a wrinkly, smile missing several teeth, attached to a round head with graying hair. “I suppose we will have to talk to you to pass through, then?”

Looking annoyed, Lara grunted, “You would, and the answer is no. The path will be reopened whenever we come to a settlement with Ha-Gaard. Until then, you can leave.” 

The old lady pursed her lips. “Oh, there are negotiations ongoing, is that it? Forgive us, forgive us.” She cleared her throat. “I am Kaer Oyen of the Sanndatr Boudicca’s new court of Ha-Dûna. A few days ago, we received a most distressing message from our dear friends in this here town about a most unfortunate event - it seemed that they had been surrounded by folk with quite malicious intent, indeed.” She raised a brow. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen them anywhere, would you?”

Lara looked at the druid directly, “I get enough riddles from the watchers, you can speak plainly or not at all.” 

Kaer Oyen sighed quietly, barely audible in the winter breeze. “Now, now, we’re just having a friendly conversation now, aren’t we? We ask for nothing more than passage into the town so we may offer them gifts from the capital and make sure all is well. If, by chance, though, someone -were- to be blockading our vassal from the world, then, well…” She shrugged. “But that’s not what’s happening here, right?” she finished with a grin.

Still unfazed, Lara retorted, “If you want clarification, so be it. They are not your vassal. They are free to leave from the other path. And you are free to leave from this one.” 

“If they didn’t consider us close, at least, then we would never have come at all. To take from them their freedom to connect with the capital - to which their culture is quite connected, indeed - is nothing short, dare I say, cruel.” She unpocketed a small leather pouch. “Let us at the very least bring them some pipeweed. They were quite adamant in their words that supplies lately had been rather… Dry.”

“Cruelty, are you sure the gods still permit you that word? If this delivery is truly that important, then you can make the longer journey can you not. We would not stop you from that.” she replied. 

“Then so we will,” conceded the druid with a smile. “Just remember that these people are free to live just the way they want - such is the law of the Dlíbók, after all.” And with that, the elk and its escort turned back to begin the arduous journey to circumvent the blockade. 

[hr]

The trek cost them an extra afternoon, needing to journey around a number of impassable crags and highrises, but eventually, they reached the southern gate, where the druid spread her hands invitingly and announced, “People of Ha-Gaard - you need no longer fear! Ha-Dûna does not forget its friends so easily, and we have come with gifts of pipeweed, oat cakes, cheese and stockfish - the fruits of the north! Come, come help yourselves! Let none go unsatiated tonight!” The soldiers, many of whom had been pulling pulks and sleds with them, began unloading the cargo to share it with the approaching villagers. Kaer Oyen herself dismounted and went around offering encouraging blessings to the townsfolk.

“Worry not, my daughter,” she said to a pregnant woman. “You child will be born under the sun in a free world, safe and unmolested by foreign forces.”

She moved on to a group of young men. “Remember, you always have a friend willing to do anything for you to the north. Our people, we look out for each other.” She then patted one of them on the shoulder before moving to a colleague of hers, a local druid who eyes her with anxious neutrality. Kaer Oyen smiled her warmest smile and took his hand.

“Oh, my dear brother, fear not the future. The Eight will surely bring this war-torn land to a most harmonious peace in time.”

The druid looked away. “But is there a place for me in Ha-Dûna, sister? Druid, I may be, but my blood is southern, and my dialect would be foreign to the northerners. I…” Kaer Oyen stopped him by raising her palm. A crowd had gathered around her, though they kept their distance.

“What is your name, brother?”

“It’s Keon.”

“Remember your title, brother - wear it with honour.”

The druid seemed reluctant. “Forgive me… Some of the locals don’t always take too kindly to it. It’s too… Too…”

“Too Dûnan?” smiled the crone. The druid didn’t nod so much as vibrate his head up and down. Kaer Oyen chuckled softly and retrieved a small clay disk from her pouch. Upon it was an inscription, unintelligible to the druid and any of the onlookers. He turned the disk in his hand and raised a brow.

“What is this?”

The crone grabbed his hand and held it aloft, turning to the crowd. “This druid fears to use his title, one he has earned from a man’s age of study and devotion of the gods, all because of strife between our peoples! Let everyone know that no such discrimination will be cast over you in the north. To the north, you have family, friends.” She pointed to the disk in Keon’s hand. “This disk grants you free use of any Dûnan resthouse wherever you go. As always, we welcome our southern kin to join the fold once more. Together, the people of the Dûnlands are strong.” She let Keon’s hand go, and the druid stepped back to join the crowd. Kaer Oyen looked around invitingly. “Has anyone here not gotten their gift?”

“We want no gifts of yours, Dûnan!” came a sharp remark from the crowd, joined by some voices. Kaer Oyen kept her toothless grin and beckoned invitingly. 

“And who are you, young man?”

“I am Pra, proud son of the Stonemauls, whose lineage has lived here for ages upon ages before your warmongering flock came and destroyed everything!” The crowd parted to reveal a group of eight youths aged anywhere between sixteen and their late twenties. The oldest, Pra, stood at the front, a club in his hand with a large stone tied to it at the end. “Now, you will be given to the count of ten to turn around and leave, or we’ll give you a reason to never return.”

The Dûnan soldiers who were no longer handing out goods quickly made their way over, but Kaer Oyen waved them away. She then turned back to Pra. “What is the source of your anger, my son?”

Pra recoiled somewhat. “Are you daft, old crone?! You and your people - you have taken my clan’s land and still now infringe upon our right to reclaim it!”

“What, -your- right to reclaim it?” came another voice. Pra quieted down and the crowd parted to show yet another group, led by a local shepherd, judging from his staff.

“Dreigen,” greeted Pra out of sheer politeness alone. 

“Let the druid speak, you disrespectful troll! She has been kinder to us than your clan has of late!”

“You don’t get a say here, Dreigen,” Pra retorted. “There’s too much of them in you - be quiet for your own good.”

“Well, there’s obviously not enough of them in you now, is there?”

Pra stormed across the empty space in the centre of the crowd. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Ha-Gaard is a freehold, and right now, the Stonemauls are outside our northern gate, forcing our traders to trek the dangerous path around the hills just to journey north to sell their goods. Yet here you shun those who have come to us with gifts in this trying time - given back what little luxuries even the common folk can enjoy: pipeweed, oat cakes--”

Pra spat on the ground. “Your mind’s gone soft from all that smoking, man. Too soft to see what these luxuries have turned you into - a slave of the north!” The argument between the various groups in the crowd grew louder. Kaer Oyen stood waiting patiently, and then one of her guardsmen came over to her and bowed curtly, as was custom.

“All the gifts have been given away, mother.”

“Good, good. I will remain a little longer. Please, go around town and offer your aid to anyone who might need it. We might stay here for a night or so, if we can.”

“Yes, mother.”

As the Dûnans traversed the city, they found a small crowd of people gathering around Sid in traditional stone-maul dress, however he had the colorful butterfly insignia pinned into his shoulder. They could hear the trail-end of his story, “And so the Dunans paid for their hubris, and were permitted to return to their homes. They may reach out to you as brothers for the time being, but when have they done so in the past, and think carefully if they will do so in the future.” 

The Dûnans exchanged looks, but it seemed as though they elected to ignore it. Instead, they each found themselves a plank or a large bone and began shovelling the roads free of snow, wordlessly. Others searched out labourers lifting heavy objects to ask to help them. It was clear that they showed disdain for the message, though, for they would cast glares at Sid every now and then between shovels and lifts.

Sid continued his stories, “And remember the most of profane of days, devoted to the most profane of gods. When Reya turned his vision from the city of Ha-Dûna, and Seros sent away his divine messenger from the cursed celebration to the more pious people of the Westfold.” 

“Hey!” exclaimed one of the Dûnans. “That was the Sigerans and you bloody well know it!” She was immediately grabbed by the shoulder by her partner and pulled back into shoveling.

“Gione, you be quiet!” said her partner and cast Sid a glare that could melt iron.

Sid continued, “And where did the Sigerans come from? Did they come from the native peoples of the Westfold? Did they appear by divine providence? The privileged Dunans and their first sons were ravaging the land before they started worshipping the profane god. The land of the native peoples and the land of their younger siblings.”

The Dûnans whispered to one another and collectively decided to straighten themselves up and move to a different part of the town. Although “collective” was less of a unanimous decision and more of a forceful migration initiated by the most senior among them. One could tell the youngest were all but ready to draw axes.

In the end, after days of loudening arguments and occasional turns to blows, the Dûnans felt that the tide had begun to turn on them. The druid leading them decided to sound their retreat back to their capital before the brawls could turn into bloodbaths, and while many sympathisers came to bid them farewell at the backgate, larger still was the crowd cursing them and celebrating their exit. With great effort and discipline (and disciplinary action exercised on the youngest among them), the Dûnans hadn’t started a single conflict where words came to blows. In their defeat, as well, they decided to plant a final seed of hope for their cause for any willing to cultivate it.

“Should your new allies turn on you, you will always have friends to the north,” Kaer Oyen had announced as her final words to the Gaardans. Then they had journeyed into the snows once more.

[hider= Story Summary] The Kirin Army continued their expansion into abandoned or sympathetic territories. As was the initial plan, they expanded to Ha-Gaard, however they were resistant, and attempted to choose neutrality. Fearing that Ha-Dûna would take over the city, and give them a staging ground into their territories as they were reconsolidating, they moved around the city to establish a fortified position to blockade traffic from Ha-Gaard and Ha-Dûna. 

Becoming aware of this news, Ha-Dûna sent their diplomatic mission to the area, and provide gifts to Gaardans. They were forced to go the long way around the city, but did and attempted to bring the people into their cultural sphere with weed and cookies.

While giving aid to people, they encountered Sid, who was telling stories about how they should side with Kirin’s Rest. One of the younger Dûnans went for their weapons, but their leader stopped him. 

The situation is tense, with sympathizers on both sides though violence is mostly contained to street brawls if anything. The Dûnans left, but Kirin’s Rest still does not have more than tenionous control over the road.[/hider]

[hider=Prestige]
16k characters
Circle of the Long Stride 7 + 5 = 12
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