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[h2]Face to Face[/h2]
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[sub][i]Year 30AA, late Autumn, in a hidden grove outside of Ha-Leothe...[/i][/sub]

Incense burned. The smoky trail from a sole dark stick wisped around the prone Jjonveyo, his arms stretched in a bow and his knees tucked under him. He was without a shirt, the jagged scars of life making a webbing map across his body - a brand new one on his stomach hidden from view as he whispered sacred words in prayer. Beneath him was a plush carpet of moss and above him was the reaching canopies of beeches and maples. All around him was silence.

His nose twitched, he smelled... apple pie? He tilted his head up from the ground and caught the boots of someone. Quickly he scrambled to his knees, a quizzical look overcoming the beast of a man. In front of him stood a woman of clear Dûnan descendancy, and in her hands was a steaming apple pie.

“Who...?” He trailed off, eyes flickering to a young man of unclear ethnicity lingering in a nearby tree. His eyes snapped back to the woman, “...are you?”

The woman appeared momentarily frozen, looking down at the pie then back at the Tsar. In a reflex, she grabbed her hip when her sword would be, but found nothing as she had left it at home before her walk. “Curses!” she snapped.

Jjonveyo slowly crept to his bare-feet, standing tall. "Explain yourself."

Boudicca frantically looked around for somewhere to set the pie down and ended up kneeling down and placing it neatly on the forest floor. She then rocketed back to her feet and pointed a rough log of a finger in Jjonveyo’s face. “Be grateful that I was brought here without preparing! Lest I would have struck you down before you would have had time to stand!” She slammed her chest with a curled fist. “Brought here by Lyd, I have come to meet you at His recommendation. Where He went, I do not know, but know that this visit is not one of my own will.” She hardened her eyes. “I am Boudicca of the Dûna, matriarch of Clan Metsep of the Gaardskarl tribe, and speaker for the Eight and the Seven gods.”

"Boudicca," Jjonveyo's eyes widened. His brow dropped into an angry scowl and his murderous fingers curled -- around a warm plate. A look of shock brightened his dark face and he looked down at a steaming pie that had made its way into his hands. 

"She also made you this pie," Illyd clapped a hand on Bouddica's shoulder, his other hand gripping Jjonveyo's as he stood between them.

"You?" Was all Jjonveyo managed to stutter.

"God of all the good stuff." Illyd winked. Jjonveyo sucked in a breath and hardened his eyes at Boudicca.

"You're shorter than I expected." Almost involuntary, Jjonveyo lifted the pie and soaked in its flaky aroma - eyes still suspicious. "But just as loud as I expected." 

Boudicca scoffed. “Funny. You’re about as fat as I expected.” She inexplicably received a very dull cake spade in her hand and menacingly started cutting Jjonveyo a juicy slice.

"Oh thank you," Jjonveyo whispered as he received a fresh plate to house the slice. Clearing his throat he jabbed a finger at Boudicca, "As blind as your people I see!" He put the remaining pie down on a -- oaken table that seemed to have sprung up off to the side. A steaming kettle occupied the center as he poured her a drink into a stone cup, to the sound of a mumbled “oh, thanks”. 

“HAH! -I- am blind?! I wasn’t the one who seemed to lose sight of where the mountains end and the lowlands begin!” She grabbed a warm pitcher of egg custard and poured a small dollop on top of his pie before putting one on her own. “What’s your goal here, exactly? Die a glorious death so you can join your ancestors in whatever place the wicked Sigeran sends you to?”

Jjonveyo angrily took a bite of his pie and chewed violently. After a hard swallow he closed his eyes. "Well wait," His voice grew calm, "Firstly, I'm not Sigeran. Secondly, this is absolutely delicious." He turned to Illyd, "I mean completely."

"Oh stop," Illyd blushed. 

"Go ahead," Jjonveyo nudged a chin at Boudicca. "I can do the honor of pausing our hostilities long enough for this treat to be appreciated."

Boudicca kissed each of her fingers on her right hand free of apple juice and custard. “Fine. I can agree to those terms. This is very good, after all. Very good. If it is not too much to ask, great one, would you send the recipe to my cook, Scot?”

"And to my cook!" Jjonveyo interjected, "Skottoslav."

"Yeah no problem," Illyd smiled at the two.

There was a long pause, and Jjonveyo sighed. Any burning hate was too interrupted to flow freely. He sipped at his tea and nodded, "Well my enemy, since you are here and inexplicably knew the Celeviak tradition of bringing food to a foe you wish to talk to - we misewell make use of this truce and speak on level terms."

“Hmph. Fine.” She swallowed another piece. “You must realise that your people are not welcome in these lands. If you value the lives of your men, you are to turn your armies around by midday tomorrow. We outnumber you, the gods are on our side, and the first snows will soon begin to fall. You cannot win this.”

"I've already won," Jjonveyo shook his head and poured Boudicca a fresh cup before sipping his own. "My army represents an idea, a change that is coming to this world. All the souls that may perish, including my own, shall be replaced by the next generation and the next. The way of mortal life is changing..." Jjonveyo paused. "Although, there may be a way for us to both take this journey without blood to be spilled. If you'd be interested in hearing out the barbarian from the mountains."

A scoffing snicker. “I’ve won, he says - like the rabbit seeking refuge from the hawk by hiding in a foxes’ burrow. Still, I…” Her face seemed to twitch slightly, as though a fit of uncertainty cracked at her stern demeanour. She tugged uncomfortably at the inky brace around her neck. “Fine. Say your words, but expect them to fall on deaf ears. I will accept no compromise, I’ll have you know.”

"A union," Jjonveyo said simply. "I propose a union."

The sanndatr frowned. “A union?”

"Yes, it is when two entities unite under a common cause," Jjonveyo explained slowly, careful in his pronunciation of Dûnan words. 

“No, I understand that - but what sort of union? Don’t tell me that, after slaughtering the defenders of Ha-Leothe, you are proposing that we break bread as though nothing has happened?”

"They were given their choices same as we are," Jjonveyo frowned. "And it is our choice to use this unique situation we find ourselves in as we choose. The world is changing, Boudicca, you cannot deny that; and as it changes, it grows. Eventually our people will be thrust against each other, or if not ours - two other groups. But if they were all of the same population, of the same charity - such problems would rather be a boon. To be crowded by allies rather than strangers." Jjonveyo rolled his jaw. "Spin the tale however you wish, but I am offering a peace through diplomacy" 

The sanndatr pursed her lips thoughtfully. “... Alright. Say I accept - I accept, ignoring the immense damage to my own face and the honour of my court of priests and [i]théins[/i] caused by not only allying with a warlord who has burned down one of our towns and butchered its people, but one who has actively allied themselves with the cowardly Cenél and fights alongside them, all while clearly having the upper hand in terms of numbers, defensive advantage and supplies - what then? What can your people, starved as they are for both resources and civilisation, offer the Jewel of the North?”

"The tithe," Jjonveyo pushed Boudicca another cup of tea. "I studied your tax system, you know? Same as I did your language. I learned about your resthouses and the disparity between those who farm, and those who eat." The Tsar seemed to consider something for a moment. "Think even as we drink our tea, if I were to pour my cup from your own, we'd both drink so little, but we don't do that - we pour from the kettle. So too does the tithe work similarly. The vast holdings of the Tsardom thrive by each pouring a little into a larger kettle, for that resource to be redistributed among the tithers to ensure health and happiness. It's cheaper than your current taxes even and much more efficient. It's how we are able to field our large armies - for surely you know that the mighty host at Ha-Leothe is but a small fraction of our forces. Join the tithe, unite for the future."

“And do you know why we keep our tax system as is? Do you know how we can feed all the thousands of people who swear fealty to the Stone?” She paused for effect and to eat another piece of pie. “The druids are the only reason the soil in these parts can be worked as intensely as it can. We have studied our neighbours - all of them, nomads, hunters and gatherers, moving with the bison or the reindeer or the seacattle and caproshrimp. If they are lucky, they can burn off the lands and sow for a season or two, but then they will have to move again soon. There is no stability - nothing that allows people to stay in one place; the land is that of Boris the Stone Hog, and to till it is to work the mountain. Only with the aid of druids channeling the generosity of Reiya, Jennesis, Lyd, Claroon and Boris can Ha-Dûna exist, and only by supporting a caste of priests who can fully dedicate their time to appeasing the gods and maintaining this growth, can this generosity be given.”

"Is it really generous if you're keeping it to yourself?" Jjonveyo looked confused.

“If the druids cannot work all the time, then no one will have anything. How hard is that to grasp?”

Jjonveyo pursed his lips. "Regardless... The point of this is resources. By joining in on a union we stave off war, border conflict and scarcity."

"Especially if you had my holy grail," Illyd nodded in the corner.

"Especially if we had- what?" Jjonveyo looked over at the god.

"Oh yeah, long time ago I made this trinket that blesses the land it sits upon so incredibly, it would put all of the druids to shame." Illyd wiggled his fingers. Boudicca’s eyes went wide as saucers and her hand froze halfway through grabbing another pie piece.

“A, a trinket that puts druids to shame? W-well, where could we find it?! What does it look like, this, this ‘grail’?”

A smug look overtook the god and he strutted over to the table. "Was that a 'we'?"

Jjonveyo eyed Boudicca but stayed quiet. The sanndatr blinked and looked away.

“-Not- one in which this one’s included, of course. He attacked us! Why would we share such glory with him?”

"Because it would end the war," Jjonveyo stated, "And put you in a better position than if you had won it through violence." He scrunched his brow, "Don't think I won't have some upset subjects of my own, but should this grail prove as... Well."

"Oh it could easily provide for both nations." Illyd poured himself some tea, "Though I imagine retrieving it won't be too easy." 

Boudicca raised a curious brow at Illyd. “What would it take, if I may ask?”

"Well, last I checked an avatar of another god swiped it from the tomb of my saints," Illyd tapped his chin, "So it's likely in the possession of some other 'god-chosen' civilization -- lot of them about."

"Indeed..." Jjonveyo shot a look at Boudicca. 

Boudicca shot a look back. “... And what am I supposed to tell everyone at home? What am I supposed to tell Selesta? Claroon? The Lady-in-Waiting? That all their efforts and aid have been for naught? Am I supposed to tell my people, who have suffered a month of rationing and riots, that their patience and perseverance will be rewarded with an even longer wait and the possibility of sharing a legendary artifact which we may never find, with death’s slave from the hills and his army of bloodthirsty retainers? How would they accept that? Tell me, how would anyone think these were good terms?”

"Spin it like that and absolutely no one would think so," Jjonveyo agreed. "It wouldn't be much easier on my side either. Turns out a lot of people want Ha-Dûna to burn into nothingness." 

"See now this is interesting," Illyd hid a smile under a hand. "You're saying that one of the chief reasons you couldn't take this peace is because of the already intrusive involvement of other gods?" He looked at Jjonveyo, "Let alone the mundane reasons, which are much easier to work out than the ire of a spited god." Illyd put on a straight face and looked past Jjonveyo and into Boudicca's eyes, "Think back to my comments before I brought you here, are you starting to see what I was lamenting?" 

Boudicca didn’t answer, but rather frowned down at the crumbs on her plate. “Selesta will be furious. Ha-Dûna may very well break apart once again… You know, we were just beginning to recover when you sent that boy to claim that ‘tithe’ of yours. Had you just stayed in your hills or gone anywhere else, none of this would have happened. If I choose peace, my chain of command will break - there will be chaos in the Dûnlands as [i]théins[/i] who have lost sisters and brothers, fathers and mothers, sons, daughters, cousins, will mobilise all whom I cannot command and march east; our allies who sent valuable warriors to join our ranks will mock our cowardice - the Swadi archers have all sworn blood-oaths and -will- demand it be paid, be it with Chevelyak or Dûnan blood, lest they will have to kill themselves, such is their custom. I don’t even want to imagine what the common people will do…” She grit her teeth. “If I choose war, however…”

Jjonveyo closed his eyes for a moment. "It would seem to me that your lands are as fractured as ever, if one 'boy' could cause all this..." The table fell silent and Jjonveyo spoke again, "Is that boy alive?"

Illyd poked a head in, "Curious, why would Selesta be furious?" 

“W-well, we’ve been planning this war for almost a month and a half now! She’s--...” She scowled over at Jjonveyo. “... I cannot say what she will do when the enemy is here with us, but know, old man, that you cannot win this war. The Master’s wrath will be unlike anything the Dûnlands have ever seen, possibly worse than the wrath of the gods striking your home this afternoon.” She cracked a smug smirk. “By the way, have you received any word from home about any survivors yet? Would be a shame to fight for a kingdom that no longer exists, wouldn’t it?”

"My home is untouched," Jjonveyo raised a brow, "The innocent tribes of the eastern plains however, are no more. Saibar of the Axe relayed the information through... Well how is not important. It would appear your gods missed, if they were truly doing such terrible deeds in your name."

Illyd propped a brow himself, "Not to add salt to any wounds but any and all wrath wraught by any gods against either side will be met with my own of the most ancient and terrible variety." The god stretched, "This conflict is of mortals, so decree Joa- myself." He coughed. "Feel free to tell Selesta that the God of Weather opposes any direct and violent intervention in this war, and you might want to remind her that it is also I who owns the crops." 

Jjonveyo looked to Illyd, "So you side with us?"

"No," Illyd answered, "I side against the gods who are imposing and no one else. If you want my council, you'll have it - but I've already done so much just letting you two meet and hopefully have enlightened either of you to the complexities of this situation."

"Complex is one word for it," Jjonveyo hissed to himself.

“Indeed…” Boudicca sighed. “However, I will not go back to her and tell her not to intervene - I invited her after all, as I invited all the Eight and the Seven gods to aid us. I have made an oath to rid our lands of those who are a threat to the Dûnan way of life, and I do not intend to break it. These are my terms, therefore: Turn back, Jjonveyo, to your homelands, and seek out the grail on your own. I will swear to you that I will keep its existence a secret to the grave, so none of my people will ever follow your trail. If you someday find it, then I will applaud you, and maybe we can prosper side by side once more if you can quell that lust of yours for conquest; but for now, you are not welcome here, and if you march any closer to Ha-Dûna than you already have, even if you believe your intentions to be peaceful or co-prosperous, you and all who follow you will be killed to the last man and your corpses will burn in the cleansing flames of Naya the Crying Crone.” She held forth a palm. “If you accept, then let us part in peace, and perhaps speak again in some time as acquaintances.”

Jjonveyo hesitated, "Boudicca - grant me a measure of patience as we are using your language and not mine..." He paused in deep thought, "Are you proposing a white peace?" 

“Not what I will call it when I share the news with my allies and people, but… In essence, yes. Mind you, this tithe of yours is out of the question; you will not be afforded even a shred of the Dûnan harvest. However, if you and your soldiers leave, I can devote myself and my resources to stabilising my realm once again, which, in turn, will allow me to leash whomsoever would dare to stake to the east on their own, looking for homes to pillage. You would have peace to search for this grail and would not need to worry about the safety of your realm. This, I vow.”

"I cannot leave the lands already entrusted under the tithe," Jjonveyo added. "Further, there are settlements and people who wish to join of their own reason. I won't unleash my forces, but I also won't turn down those who wish to join through peace. Let them, and then there would be no need for armies..”

“Whatever lands you have conquered outside of what you had before does not belong to you nor your tithe. It is not a white peace if you keep what you have taken - that is conquest. You will withdraw your ‘Zardom’s influence completely and allow those who out of fear have sworn fealty to you to come to their senses once more and remember their true allegiances, their true family. This is my demand.”

"Your demand is currently unreasonable," Jjonveyo gestured. "Let us call it a ceasefire instead of a peace then, and there is also the matter of my nephew."

“A ceasefire when only you have taken and I have lost? You are the unreasonable one here. And what’s this nephew of yours? Was he the boy you sent some months ago to demand your outrageous tithe?”

"He was," Jjonveyo picked at the remaining pie flakes on his plate.

Boudicca nodded. “Then he is dead and his corpse, burned so his spirit may be free of Sigeran’s grasp.”

"Boudicca." Jjonveyo pushed more tea towards the Dûnan. "Boudicca," He repeated, more clearly. He cleared his throat, accent swooping and then clearing, "Boo-dekka." 

“What, ‘Jonwayo’? What are you rambling about?”

"I'm just making sure I'm speaking clearly," Jjonveyo sniffed. "Do you have any children?”

“I do, actually - three of them, all exemplary Dûnans both of breeding and upbringing, if I may say so myself. Look, I see what simile you are drawing here, but know that your nephew was no more loved than any parent loves their child. When you sacked Ha-Leothe, you robbed hundreds of parents of their children, and hundreds of children of their parents. What are three deaths compared to a village?”

"You speak too quickly," Jjonveyo sipped at his tea. "Give me your eldest daughter and the entire war will be over and you may have Ha-Leothe as it stands." 

Boudicca glared. “Again with the hopeless terms - you have already taken more lives from my people than any hostage trade can ever make up for. Let me inform you--”

Jjonveyo held up a hand for Boudicca to stop. "The war will be over and thousands of lives spared, you will be given your land back and will have saved your people. All I ask is for one person. That's it - it'll avoid further battle and fighting." 

Boudicca leaned over to the side and spat on the ground. “That’s my answer. If you want anymore Dûnans beyond the ones you have taken from this world, you’ll have to come and get them.” She rose from the table and finished her tea. “If your senseless greed cannot be reasoned with, then I say we’re done here.”

"And as always your word is law," Jjonveyo didn't bother to look at her. "Unless you wanted to duel for it - but I have a feeling the Dûnans wouldn't respect the outcome should it not be in their favor."

“Duel, you say?” In a shift of demeanour, she tugged her chin thoughtfully. “A duel between two knights of Selesta. How dreadfully poetic and appropriate.” A brow rose.

"I'm not a knight," Jjonveyo looked disgusted, "Vile creatures born of a goddess that reminds me more of expired milk than a leader. But I'll duel one to spare lives."

“No matter what you consider yourself to be, Jonwayo, the Master’s mark is on you - I can tell, as I am marked as well.” She smirked and put her cup back down.

"Gross," Jjonveyo growled passively.

“Either way,” Boudicca dodged, “I admire your selflessness, I will give you that. The one runner you allowed to escape from Ha-Leothe, however, made very sure to thoroughly explain that your very body is infused with the strength of Sigeran, granting you unmatched resistance against anything that could kill you. I would know, for I, too, was foolish enough to pollute myself with his presence some years ago.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Still, are you confident your ability to cheat death will be enough to kill me?”

"No, but unlike you I'd bury my son to prevent a deathtoll in the tens of thousands - let alone myself." Jjonveyo remained sitting. "Life is empty, Boudicca, but I'd rather my people a happy one." 

Boudicca scoffed. “Your philosophy makes no sense - life is empty, yet you try so desperately to live it. If you are so sad to be alive, then I will gladly do you the favour of uniting you with your heathen master. Leave the world to those who actually appreciate it and go on back to your holes in the hills.” She rolled her neck around her shoulders. “What would be the terms of this duel? Winner takes all?”

"Terms will be discussed two weeks from now," Jjonveyo moved past the other words. "You and I, plus any councillors can meet on neutral ground and set our plans out formally. Until the meeting, I'd suggest a cease of hostilities." 

“... That can be done,” Boudicca agreed and held out an open palm. “Two weeks, then.”

Jjonveyo put a refilled cup of tea in her palm and lifted his own. "I'd also like to add that you speak as much extra as your master." With that, he took a large gulp of his tea and smiled. 

“And you are about as dreadfully cruel as yours,” smiled the sanndatr back and slurped down her own. “Thanks for the pie and the tea. I will remember this time fondly as I carve out your windpipe a hundred times over.”

"Cut off my ears first, and spare me from your voice." Jjonveyo suggested.

“I’ll see you both in two weeks, then,” Illyd smiled.

[hider=SummaREEE!]
Jonny Boy is medidating on the Thaa. Then out of fucking nowhere appears Boudicca with a pie in her hands. Boudicca tries to draw her sword, but realises it’s at home, and Jonny boy hands her a warm plate. Boudicca serves him a slice of pie and the two sit down for tea, pie and egg custard under Illyd’s supervision. After complimenting Illyd on his amazing pie, Boudy and Jonny agree to a temporary truce and get discussing. There are attempts to reach some sort of compromise on multiple occasions, but Boudicca will never give in to anything that makes her and Ha-Dûna look weak, and Jjonveyo will never give in to anything that forces him to give up the villages that have sworn themselves to the tithe. After a lot of insults and bickering, Jonny Boy proposes they duel for it - that way, only one will die, saving all the thousands of lives that would be lost in a war. Boudicca agrees and their terms will be discussed in two weeks. Illyd concludes the meeting with a smile and spirits Boudicca back home.
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[hider=MP]
Illyd Dyll 5/5
Didn’t spend no cents, boi.
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[hider=Prestige]
Boudicca 12 + 5 = 17

Jjonveyo 22 + 5 = 27
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