Elon/Jotun

Gudrik’s instincts were not wrong. Once the Thane and his retinue were seated at the high table, Chello rose to address the square. Pale and pregnant she couldn’t come across as the most dashing leader and for once, Chello found herself wishing Azlyn were here. The king may be a bit of a fool, but when it came to addressing the people or encouraging good will, she’d never seen anyone with more charisma. It was true that he often lacked in manners and refinement, but his charm made up for that, especially when addressing soldiers or commoners. As for herself, Chello knew that even speaking in her loudest voice, her words were unlikely to carry across the whole square and while the people had accepted her as queen, they still viewed her as an outsider and her manners, wisdom and good education would do little to stir up their good will and trust. All the same, she intended to try her best.

She started by addressed Gudrik directly. “Thane Gudrik, on behalf of Elon I wish to welcome you to the western borderlands and dedicate this feast to your honor in all hopes of your good fortune and success in your endeavors against the Wasteland Orcs.”

She then turned to the square in general. “I look about and see many faces. The faces of both Elonese and Jotun lit by the same fires and with the same hope in their eyes. Once upon a time our people were bitter enemies, but that was long ago in a dark past. Now we face a bright future as allies with a common liege, a common faith and a common foe uniting us. May the strength and nobility of both Elon and Jotun rise together as one strong arm and smite the Wastelands in the name of our common church and state!”

She lifted her goblet in a toast and many of the people responded with a “Huzzah!” However, there were a few among the Elonese nobles who were less enthusiastic and a couple hardly drank at all. One man with graying hair and long thin hands only touched his cup to his lips and glared.

There was a good deal of drinking among the Elonese, but even more singing and dancing, as was the tradition for feasts and festivals in Dovwynn. Colorful scarves, tambourines and laughter were in abundance, but Chello respectfully maintained her seat at the high table, as did many of the Elonese nobles.

She drank relatively little, thanks to her pregnancy and personal aversion to drunkenness and instead engaged in conversion. She spoke most with Tabaris, using Surveakan and talking about the state of the Imperial universities and cities in the south and touching on the challenges the Empire faced here in the north. Her good education and naturally keen mind and intellect made her an engaging conversationalist and Tabaris found her a challenging but entertaining discussion partner.

Also at the table were Admiral Guard and several Elonese nobles, including Lord Elymilak Sarvo, uncle through marriage to King Azlyn. Sarvo was regent over the village of Ayvon and owned many of the kingdom’s finest vineyards. It was Sarvo who’d been glaring during the toasts and his mood only seemed to worsen as he drank more of the wine and listened to the conversations Guard and the other nobles were having with Gudrik and the rest of the giants at their table.

Eventually, well into the evening, Sarvo stood red faced. Guard had just said something about the Jotun visiting Elon again, to establish trade and go hunting with the King through the woods of Bartia.

“Oh Yes!” Sarvo said, his words slurred by drunkenness, “Lets invite them to move right in! Make themselves right at home!”

The table quieted and Chello turned paler, at the sight of Sarvo swaying over his seat. She’d feared something like this would happen, but Sarvo’s position had dictated him a place at the high table.

“Have you all forgotten?!” demanded Sarvo, practically shouting and spluttering across the table. “Have you forgotten the blood that flowed through this very square?! Have you for –forgotten the fires’a old and the crying… the CRYING of our women when these… these monsters slew our people upon the streets, and- and burn our castles and stole our mi-mighty heirlooms and na-national treasures!?”

“Lord Sarvo you’re drunk,” broke in Guard, taking the man by the arm and trying to force him to back down. Sarvo threw him off however, his brown eyes blazing. “The Jotun are murderers and thieves! I’ll not sit with them! I’ll not drink good wine with them!” Throwing his goblet angrily upon the ground, he began to stomp away.

"Take your hands off me, Sir!" shouted Sarvo, turning and shoving Pjjokhat's hand off his shoulder. "The Jotun are savage heathens! If you don't believe me, spend a day walking through the slave markets of Volthiem!" He seemed unintimidated and his face was red and bold with drunken and self-righteous rage.

"Lord Sarvo," Chello said, standing her voice firm and cold as the ice on the winds of the southern tribe lands. "You shame your country and your name. I shall not allow you to insult our guests in such away. Admiral Guard, summon five men and escort Lord Sarvo to a secure cell and hold him, until he sobers up and reparations can be demanded of him for his words." 

General Pjjokhat had calmed down, but only just enough not to create a scene.  This wasn't over yet.  He followed Lord Sarvo as the Elonese nobleman was escorted away.

"You and your people are Survaekom subjects, old man," he growled.  "Everyone else knows how to act like one, but apparently you still need to learn.  Think long and hard in your cell, because if I return and hear this sort of disrespect from you again, I swear your honor will not recover from what I unleash."  With that, the general finally turned around with a twirl of the maroon robes and chainmail head-dress of his Surv-Akur dress uniform.

Meanwhile, Scribe Aegir Tabaris did his best to control the damage back at the table.  "Your Highness, please excuse the general's outburst.  His many seasons of war have left him perhaps a little too callous, but know that he means well.  He is a man of honor, but also a man of the battlefield."  The fact of the matter was that Pjjokhat had always been prone to anger, but war had indeed eroded many former inhibitions that had prevented outbursts in his earlier years.

"In any case," Tabaris moved on, hoping to bring the conversation back to more pleasant topics, "you should know that the first snows of winter have already begun to fall in the Southern Plains, and Arkhaer will no doubt have its own in the coming weeks..."

"No apology is needed for a man who stands for what he believes. But if you can find a detailed description of Wind Roar I will have the armory and trophy rooms searched for it upon my return home." With that he set to enjoying the feast. His men singing old battle sagas and a few time it was the thane himself who lead the chants. His voice was not lovely by any means but it had the deep resonance of surf crashing against the cliffs. The Jotun would keep this well into the dawn hours. Until beds called to all assembled.

The next day the fleet would continue up river as soon as the supplies had been finished loading. Gudrick would be standing on the docks with what dignitaries had come to see them off.

"I thank you for this, it will be of great help." Gudrik gave a bow to the Queen. "May sure winds always guide you to safe harbors." And with that the fleet set sail up the river to complete it's journey.

Chello received the letter in the midsts of a busy mourning schedule. At first she was quite pleased to see it was from the Jotun. She had quite enjoyed their visit the year before and had been hoping she and Azlyn would get the chance to share a dinner with the giants again. After reading it, however, she was thoughtful. It seemed odd that they hadn't come up to the manor themselves, or at least come into the city.

Nonetheless, she told her secretary to clear a few hours of her schedule and to go find the king, before penning a reply that said she and the King would be honored to invite the Jarl and his party to have lunch with them at Christallo Manner and hear anything they had to say.

Azlyn smiled brightly when the servant told him the Jotun wished to meet with them. "Excellent! I'm sorry to have missed them last time. Half the city was singing the songs the giants taught us and it sounded like a party worth being at." He told the musicians he'd planned a practice session with that they would have to play without him then went to the kitchens to make sure there would be enough to eat.