Joffrey shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his patience wearing thin as the debate dragged on. The grand chamber of the North Haven Council felt stifling, the air thick with tension as the ambassadors of Avalonia, Valkor, Eluneth, and Tonat’Ni’Uh continued their back-and-forth. They argued over borders, accused each other of negligence, and exchanged veiled threats—all while Joffrey could see the inevitable outcome looming on the horizon.
The Empress of Avalonia had declared it a holy war, and in doing so, had sealed Lost Haven’s fate. The pretext—three lust potions found within Valkor’s territory, evidence of the dark cult of Sarrta—was as good as any. But to Joffrey, it was clear that the moment Avalonia had invoked the name of their god of war, diplomacy had become nothing more than a formality, a hollow dance to justify the coming bloodshed.
Ambassador Renard of Avalonia was at the center of it all, his voice ringing out in the chamber with fervor. "The discovery of these potions is proof of Valkor's failure to control their lands. This is not just an affront to Avalonia, but a threat to the entire region. We cannot allow the shadow of Sarrta to rise again."
Joffrey watched Renard closely, irritation gnawing at him. The High Kin ambassador spoke with conviction, but there was something off about it—like he was reciting lines he didn’t fully believe. The ambassador’s words were strong, but his eyes betrayed uncertainty, a hesitation that grew more apparent as the debate continued.
“How convenient that Avalonia finds cause for war in a handful of potions,” Ambassador Kael of Valkor retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Potions that could have easily been planted by those with an interest in seeing Lost Haven fall into chaos. Perhaps this is less about the potions and more about expanding Avalonia's reach into neutral territory?”
The accusation of blatant warmongering hung heavy in the air. Joffrey saw the fury and rage boil in Renard; the room held its breath. Joffrey leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on Renard. The Avalonian ambassador’s response was slower this time, as if he was weighing his words carefully in an almost uncharacteristic display of reason.
“Our only concern is the safety of Lost Haven and the eradication of Sarrta’s influence,” Renard replied, but the force in his voice was waning, giving way to something else—doubt.
Joffrey’s frustration deepened. They were all wasting time here, debating points that no longer mattered. The holy war had been declared, and that alone was enough to set events in motion that couldn’t be stopped by any amount of talking. Yet, there was something in Renard's uncertainty that piqued Joffrey's curiosity, something that suggested even Avalonia’s representatives didn’t fully grasp the situation they were being thrust into.
“Eluneth cannot ignore the potential threat posed by these potions,” interjected Lady Selene of Eluneth, her voice calm and measured, though her piercing gaze never left Renard. The Nurr ambassador was known for her sharp mind and her kingdom's deep distrust of anything related to the unholy trinity. “However, a holy war seems... premature. We have not even confirmed whether this is the work of genuine cultists.” She scoffed, “For all we know, those foolish four discovered a stash in the forbidden areas and decided the risk was worth it.”
Ambassador Kael nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Declaring war over what could be the actions of a few rogue elements is reckless. We must investigate further before making any drastic decisions.”
Joffrey leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he watched Renard’s reaction. The man was struggling to keep up the pretense, his responses becoming more defensive, less confident.
Before Renard could respond, a soft but resonant voice filled the chamber, drawing everyone’s attention. “The Hjabnar’an see the situation as a seedling that must be carefully tended, lest it grow into a twisted tree of conflict.”
All eyes turned to the Hjab ambassador, Yarin, a tall, cloaked figure whose wooden skin and leaf-like hair shimmered faintly in the dim light. The Hjabnar’an rarely spoke. “We do not wish for war to take root in these lands. The Hjab believe that balance must be maintained. If there is a way to resolve this without bloodshed, it is a path we must seek. Beseech your superiors, Renard. All of us in this room have known each other for years. Please.”
Joffrey nodded almost imperceptibly, appreciating Yarin’s wisdom and respectful conduct towards Renard himself. As pretentious and arrogant as Renard was, Joffrey knew him to be a diamond in the rough. The Hjab’s calm and measured approach stood in stark contrast to the escalating tension. But even Yarin’s words, though well-intentioned, seemed futile against the tide of inevitability that Joffrey sensed.
“Ambassador Renard,” Joffrey cut in, his voice calm but edged with the irritation he could no longer fully mask. “You speak of Sarrta as if the cult’s resurgence is imminent, yet we have no real evidence of their activity beyond these potions. How does Avalonia justify such a drastic response, invoking a holy war, for what might be an isolated incident?”
Renard’s eyes flickered, and Joffrey saw it again—that flash of doubt, the momentary hesitation. The ambassador opened his mouth to speak but faltered, as though searching for the right words. “The risk... cannot be ignored,” Renard managed, but the conviction was gone, replaced by something that sounded more like resignation. The scribe keeping record called for the official end of the debate.
Renard, for just a moment, dropped all his pretense and looked at Kael, pleading, almost begging. No words were exchanged, but everyone in the room felt the same cold realization Joffrey had experienced earlier.
Joffrey leaned back, his mind racing. This wasn’t just about the potions or the threat of Sarrta’s cult. Renard didn’t understand the reasons behind Avalonia’s aggressive stance. He hadn’t been briefed, or at least whatever briefing he had received was completely bogus.
This war was driven by forces and motivations beyond the comprehension of those in this room.
Joffrey’s thoughts drifted to the ancient legends of the Red Age—a time so long ago it had become more myth than history, a war in heaven that had nearly torn the world apart. Since then, there had been countless wars, some almost as destructive, often driven by cultists seeking to recreate that long-lost era of chaos. And now, it seemed, they were on the brink of yet another cataclysmic conflict, one that could easily spiral out of control, fueled by ancient fears and misunderstandings.
“Kael’s right,” Joffrey finally said, his voice cutting through the din of debate. “Avalonia's sudden declaration of war seems more about seizing an opportunity than responding to a genuine threat. If there’s more at play here, it’s something none of us in this room have been told.” He threw his piercing gaze at Renard.
Renard’s expression hardened, but it was clear the ambassador was struggling to keep his composure. “To be completely honest, my friends, I’m completely in the dark on this matter. Everything told in the briefing was lip service, plain for even a novice diplomat to see.”
The debate would continue, but Joffrey was done playing along. He had seen enough to know that this was no longer a matter of diplomacy. The war was coming, and nothing said in this chamber would stop it. What mattered now was preparing for the chaos that would follow—and ensuring that when it did, the Freebooters were ready to navigate the storm. “Gotta make sure Audrey and her gaggle are safe,” he muttered, although he knew two-thirds of the guild there would most likely conscript into the fighting force of Valkor.
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Joffrey left the grand chamber of the North Haven Council with a sense of urgency gnawing at him. The dim light of the ancient hallways seemed to close in on him, amplifying the weight of the decisions that lay ahead. He moved swiftly, his mind already racing with the preparations he would need to make. The Freebooters’ Guild in North Haven was more of an inn than a fortress—an informal gathering place where Freebooters came to pick up requests, share stories, and occasionally clash in the sparring grounds. But even a place like that would need to be fortified in its own way, given the storm that was brewing.
As Joffrey navigated the bustling streets of North Haven, his thoughts drifted to Audrey, the Guildmaster back in Lost Haven. He would need to send word to her immediately. Lost Haven was going to be the epicenter of this conflict, and she would need to be prepared for what was coming. Joffrey quickened his pace, the urgency of the situation pushing him forward.
The Freebooters’ Guildhall in North Haven was a modest building compared to the grandeur of the surrounding city. It was built from weathered stone, with a sturdy wooden door that had seen more than its fair share of travelers passing through. As Joffrey entered, he was greeted by the familiar sounds of the guild at work—the hum of conversation from the common room, the clang of metal from the small blacksmith’s forge, and the occasional thud of fists and blades from the sparring grounds out back.
“Joffrey!” A voice called out, and he turned to see Marla, the innkeeper who managed the Guildhall. She was a stout woman with graying hair and a sharp tongue, but she kept the place running smoothly. “Back from the council meeting, are you? What’s the news?”
“Bad,” Joffrey replied, his tone clipped. “War’s coming, Marla. We need to be ready.”
She sighed, her expression hardening. “Figured as much. What do you need?”
“I need to send a message to Audrey in Lost Haven,” Joffrey said, already moving toward the small desk in the corner of the common room where parchment and ink were kept. “She needs to know what’s coming. And we need to start preparing here as well. We may not be on the front lines, but that doesn’t mean we’ll be safe.”
Marla nodded, her no-nonsense demeanor kicking in. “I’ll see to ir I’ll make sure the word gets out.”
Joffrey sat down at the desk and began to write. The letter to Audrey was brief but direct, detailing the events of the council meeting and the likelihood of war breaking out over Lost Haven. He warned her to fortify the Guildhall there, to gather supplies, and to be prepared for an influx of Freebooters looking to join the fight. He also urged her to keep a close eye on the situation—if the war escalated, Lost Haven would fall into Avalonian hands, refugees would flood to North Haven.
Once the letter was sealed and handed off to Marla to arrange for a fast courier, Joffrey stood and took a moment to survey the common room. A few Freebooters were gathered around a table, discussing the latest rumors. Others were sparring out back, testing their skills against one another. It was a typical day at the Guildhall, but Joffrey knew that would change soon.
He walked out to the sparring grounds, where a few of the younger Freebooters were training. They were still green, eager to prove themselves but lacking the experience of battle. Joffrey watched them for a moment, then called out, “Alright, listen up!”
The Freebooters stopped what they were doing and turned to face him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.
“War is coming,” Joffrey said, not bothering to soften the news. “And it’s not going to be like anything before. This isn’t a skirmish or a border dispute. It’s going to be brutal, and it’s going to be long. If any of you are thinking of getting involved, you need to be ready. You need to be smart, and you need to be prepared.”
One of the younger Freebooters, a lanky lad named Taron, stepped forward. “What do you suggest, Joffrey?”
“Stock up on supplies, and keep your wits about you, and make sure you have an tactical retreat option.” Joffrey replied. “If you’re going to fight, make sure you know who you’re fighting for and why. Don’t get dragged into something you don’t understand. And if you’re not ready for this, there’s no shame in heading somewhere safer until things calm down. But if you stay, you’d better be ready to defend this place and each other.”
Taron nodded, and the other Freebooters murmured their agreement. Joffrey could see the resolve in their eyes, but he also saw the uncertainty.
As the Freebooters returned to their training, Joffrey walked back into the Guildhall, his mind racing with everything that needed to be done. He would stay in North Haven for a few more days, making sure the Guildhall was as prepared as it could be. Then he would head to Lost Haven himself, to stand with Audrey and the others when the storm finally hit.
Joffrey settled back into the familiar environment of the Guildhall, where the presence of his old party members lent a sense of continuity amidst the impending chaos. They had all seen countless battles together and carried their own legendary status. As he walked through the bustling common room, he found them gathered near the hearth, deep in conversation.
Tina sat at a table in a quiet corner, her petite frame a stark contrast to the steel in her gaze. Her eyes were sharp and focused, always vigilant. Raddick was nearby, his scarred visage reflecting the light of the flickering fire. He seemed lost in thought, his silence punctuated only by the occasional murmur of contemplation. Garreck stood by the bar, his rigid posture and twirling mustache hinting at a mind that was actively processing the gravity of the situation. And Aeryl, with her imposing height and powerful build, was examining a set of new weapons laid out on the table.
Joffrey approached them, feeling the weight of their shared history pressing upon him. They had been through so much together, and now, with war looming, it felt right to gather them once more.
“Looks like we’re going to be busy,” Joffrey said, drawing their attention. “Avalonia’s declaration of war is only the beginning. We need to be ready for whatever comes next.”
Garreck looked up, his face serious. “You think this will be like the old days? Or is there something different this time?”
“It’s hard to say,” Joffrey replied. “But it’s clear that Avalonia has its own reasons for this war. There’s something more going on, something deeper. We need to be prepared for anything.”
Aeryl nodded, her gaze unwavering. “I’ve been training the newer recruits, making sure they’re up to snuff. But if we’re looking at a full-scale conflict, we’ll need more than just skill. We’ll need strategy, and we’ll need to be smart about how we deploy our resources.”
Tina remained silent but nodded in agreement, her eyes conveying her readiness to act. Raddick, though quiet, looked up with a thoughtful expression. “I’ve had some unsettling visions,” he said softly. “They’ve been vague, but they suggest that this conflict might involve forces beyond our immediate understanding, my ancestral spirit guides are restless none of them have seen a situation quite like this.”
Joffrey nodded.
Garreck’s mustache twitched as he contemplated the situation. “Then we need to fortify our positions. Prepare the Guildhall prepare North Haven, and ensure that Lost Haven is well-protected. We can’t afford to be caught off guard.” Ive been looking over the old allegiance papers, if war comes to North Haven The freebooter guild is honor bound to Protect North Have
“Agreed,” Joffrey said. “We’ll start by reinforcing our defenses here. Make sure that the Guildhall can withstand any initial assaults. Make anyone foolish enough to attack North Haven, has to fight tooth and nail for each inch. I will be heading to Lost Haven soon to assist Audrey in preparing there.”
The old party members exchanged determined glances. Despite their retired status, the spark of old camaraderie and resolve was still very much alive.
“I’ll help with the fortifications,” Aeryl said, her voice resolute. “And I’ll ensure the weapons and equipment of all the pups are in top shape.”
“I’ll coordinate with the local constable and ensure we have all the intelligence we need,” Raddick added, his voice carrying a tone of urgency. “If there are forces beyond our understanding, we need to know about them before they make their move.”
Tina finally spoke, her voice low but clear. “And I’ll be ready to fight. Whatever happens, we face it together.”
Joffrey felt a surge of relief and gratitude. His old friends were as dependable as ever, and their presence reassured him amidst the uncertainty. They would face the coming conflict with the same bravery and skill that had defined their past adventures.
As he looked around the Guildhall, Joffrey couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the old days. This was a new kind of battle, one that would test their mettle in ways they had never been tested.