> ‘Um. Someone pissed off Glen something fierce. You don’t want to do that. A pissed off Glen is someone no one can control which is pretty bad, since he’s very uncontrollable to begin with.’
>
>
>
> Morn Taras, the Hall of Words.
>
> Saying credited to the Monarch’s Ranger* Lussiel Olca Valto** around 3401 IC (195 NC).
>
>
>
> -
>
>
>
> *Lifelong position. Established by verbal decree of Hardir O’ Fardor like the vast majority of his laws and paradigms. Based on ancient tradition the deified Monarch’s words were absolute. Entered into the Royal Edicts by 1st Scribe Vulreon.
>
> **Uncommon (3rd Era jargon) Court Imperial transliteration (also attributed to Arguen Garth) of a Common Tongue name loosely meaning ‘Silent Wicked Blessings’. Original name Whisper Jinx.
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Primo D’Orsi
The Wine Wars| Expedition
Part I
-What resides beyond the mist?-
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image [https://i.postimg.cc/fWL3sNb8/Mussel-195-NC.jpg]
Goras Peninsula, part of Cydonia Cazan and Sinking Isles showing
-
Jacomo D’Orsi caught the sour look on Primo’s face and signed for him to wipe it off, which his son did. High Baron Enzo Riveras of Faro had just entered the room with his entourage, followed by Baron Dominique Trupo and Baron Arturo Napoli. Simon Mclean, the Director of Special Projects representing the Marquise, Claus Viceroy -the Bank of Trust’s president of the board, his wife Lady Diana Merck and son Benito Merck-Viceroy along his tutor Uranio Briglia, both men naval engineers, were already sitting at the table.
The King represented by the gloomy-faced, somehow greying and balding at the same time, Lord Cornelius Mortymer, the Petty Baron of Stingray and Lesia’s Master of Silence.
Primo glanced at his friend Adriano Monte, the man mostly responsible for rebuilding the mercenary company, who stood just behind him near the door of the conference room and the aging Armium-educated military trainer and former legionary officer, shrugged his broad shoulders indifferently.
“Goodness me High Baron,” Lord Mortymer complained, a grimace marring his face as if he was experiencing a case of severe stomach ulcer. “I have court business to attend to and barely the time to wait around for your fucking grand entrance.”
“Lord Mortymer,” Enzo Riveras replied sourly. “We don’t need you at this point.”
“Wish this was true so I would be spared the plaguing bother but it ain’t,” a miffed Mortymer argued. “Seeing as the King has enough problems in his hands to deal with this bullshit.”
Simon Mclean got up from his chair. “My Lord the King has been apprised of the situation. The subtleties of the endeavor explained at length,” the Marquise’s scion said, much to Lord Mortymer’s annoyance.
“The throne listened to Federico’s mumblings but didn’t agree. Old age, costly past blunders and fresh problems popping left and right is slowly waning his influence,” Mortymer retorted. “Again the bank goes ahead changing the agenda young Mclean. You did it with the Regia affair, suddenly pressing the Council for a ceasefire on Lucius’ terms and you’re doing it now. Why should the King ever agree to this? You’re causing us enough problems already. Your deals are pricey and bitter to the palate. The throne would prefer to get Regia on board first afore committing to any action on another continent. Good grief! The distance is mindboggling!”
“We are working with King Lucius. A series of tariffs have been suggested already,” Simon elucidated.
“Apologies for being cynical but this new scheme makes it seem like you don’t believe taxing that rabbit-eared cretin would work,” Mortymer grunted. “Just lower your fucking prices! Opting to feast on yer wine feels like a punch on the dick for crying out loud! Even if I turned into a masochist, which I’m pretty close, I still wouldn’t afford it. Trust me, I’m doing everything I can to get myself a bit of coin in this market like every other folk and buying yer wine is making sure I never will!”
“Bring it here,” Baron Riveras told one of his adjutants gruffly and the young man stepped forward, a wooden case of bottles in his hands. He placed it on the large conference. “Not the Aranel, the Taria O’ Mir,” Riveras ordered and the adjutant broke the wax to uncork the sculpted bottle.
Mortymer pushed back on his chair. “It’s too early for that Baron.”
“Have a sip. This is summer wine. Goras Nectar in the underground jargon.” Riveras explained with a grimace. Mortymer glugged down the half-filled bronze goblet and then cracked his jaw right and left. The Lord of Secrets used his tongue to lick his lips.
“It’s nice. Expensive stuff I’m sure,” he said and Riveras scoffed angrily. Mortymer checked on the bottle for a moment while Baron Trupo replied in Riveras’ stead.
“We found it in Cediorum.” He explained. “Sold under the table in Cartagen, Aegium and Novesium. Asturia. The prizes vary as high as to the absurd but it is highly sought after. As addictive as Redleaf without the baggage.”
“Which is?” Mortymer asked mockingly. “Since we might soon be looking for alternative streams of revenue here.”
“It’s a plaguing mind-altering drug, used in the slave training,” Baron Trupo snapped not partial to the minister’s humor.
“Must be working if the Cofols are using it,” Mortymer commented and turned to Riveras. “This still tastes like your wine Baron.”
“It’s the same recipe.”
“My friend,” Lord Mortymer replied. “We both know that it’s the vines that make the difference.”
“Not only,” Riveras argued.
“Right.” Mortymer murmured not wanting to continue pressuring the High Baron.
“Saul Ferrero is our culinary expert,” Riveras said and a young blond-haired man with a freckled face nodded behind the Baron. “Explain the intricacies mister Ferrero.”
“Wine aficionados are drawn to mystique and history. Also taste but this can vary,” the young Lorian explained. “Looks and package come after. The rest of the crowd follows word of mouth without really understanding the difference. They’ll stay away of rare stuff unless they become readily available.”
“They’ll also follow their purse,” Mortymer argued. “This doesn’t seem like a cheap bottle. Is this Valeria glass?”
“It is Wetull glass,” Riveras grunted.
“Same price range?” Mortymer taunted. “I got two goblets back home. Never use them for fear of breaking one but they look nice on the shelf.”
“Lord Mortymer,” Primo’s father Jacomo intervened. “You appear to be quite negative.”
“We have troubles enough to dive headlong into a fresh pool filled with turds. What is the goal here dear barons?” Mortymer asked after a brief pause.
“Control Mussel, then we should march inland to remove Garth.” Riveras replied. “Install a puppet ruler in his place or better yet one of our own. We agreed on one of Baron Arturo’s Napoli’s sons given that Sava suffered the most during the King’s operation.”
Mortymer sighed and pushed himself up. He walked to one of the maps set up on the stands and stared at it in silence. “Inlands you will encounter more Zilan Baron.” He finally noted. “Maybe an army.”
“No army has been reported and the Zilan numbers are very low,” Riveras argued.
“Fifty thousand seems the high number, maybe half than that,” Simon Mclean elucidated. “This king rules over more humans than Zilan.”
“You could still be overwhelmed. What makes yer humans better than his? Not to mention Zilan are pretty well described in the legends far as fighting is concerned. Then you need to worry about their other skills also.”
“Meaning what? Fairy magic?” Riveras scoffed at him.
“There’s talk of a wyvern,” Mortymer said. “I tried to kick a young tiger once. It grabbed my foot. I now regret the decision but it auspiciously left me no permanent injuries. Imagine doing that to a beast the size of a house. More teeth, bigger mouth. I’d be hobbling about like Nattas if I’m lucky!”
“We don’t believe the stories,” Riveras argued. “We suspect this Garth to be a crook or helped by criminals.”
“Garth has intervened in Greenwhale Peninsula and has agreement with Elsanne’s pirates,” Mortymer insisted. “If he can field a division, you’ll be in trouble.”
“Field where? West? East? Look at the distances involved,” Riveras grunted warningly. “Taras is a primarily human city, same for Sinya Goras. Mussel is a ruin. Garth’s power is an illusion we will break.”
“Historically the Zilan armies were destroyed in Oakenfalls.” Jacomo D’Orsi added for context.
“That’s a lot of time to raise a new force Baron. Plenty of years for numbers to grow or old statistics to be wrong. Someone is making this wine and trinkets. It ain’t humans for sure else you wouldn’t worry they’ll kick your product out,” Mortymer grimaced. “Your company is ready?”
“It is. We’ll have Vardar’s and Sardone’s men also. A lot of artillery.”
Nico Vardar (or Vardarus) and Erminio Sardone were mercenary captains leading about a thousand men between them.
“Why does the Bank invest in this Simon?” Mortymer asked after contemplating his father’s words.
“We need to control the port,” Simon replied readily.
“Mussel?”
“It might need an investment first to produce any results,” Lady Diana Merck said.
“In what capacity?” Mortymer insisted.
“Reaching Eplas and the Sinking Isles,” her husband Claus Viceroy replied. A ‘veteran’ of Regia’s Civil War and the later conflict with King Lucius. Primo didn’t believe Claus had been anywhere near the frontlines during his time following Baron Hermon’s Iron Fists. “We need a port that’s not near the pirate raiding lanes.”
“What’s this?” Mortymer asked pointing at the map.
“Wetull’s Reefs,” Riveras replied.
“Any isles there or just rocks?”
“Mist comes out of the sea but no one has seen any locals. Probably underwater volcanos? I’m not a plaguing academic!”
“That’s not an answer Baron,” Mortymer argued.
Primo moved forward, planting both elbows on the table. “It’s possible that more land is there.”
He was interested in finding out if this was true. Every young Lorian had read the stories and dreamed of exploring the lands of myth.
“Ah, adventure beckons.” Mortymer taunted and grimaced. “The King will sign a decree prohibiting citizens or lords recruiting men without his permission over a certain number.”
“What?” Simon snapped with a glare of disbelief. “Why would he do that?”
“Duke Luke Andal didn’t accept the King’s reasoning. We might find ourselves in need of bodies for the throne.” Mortymer replied without hesitation. “The Andals and the Borginas had already started marching south down the coast when news reached them that King Davenport had negotiated an end to the hostilities with King Lucius. They are still camped near Dokamna. They feel cheated. Let’s not forget the Duke’s son Sir Hector perished in the campaign at the battle of Half-Bridge.”
“He wants to fight Regia?” Riveras grunted. “Not our fault if he’s in the arse-end of the country and it took him this long to get moving! We had enemy legionnaires at the gates of Sava!”
“It was auspicious you got out of the struggle with Lucius unscathed then. Duke Luke was reluctant to commit to our plan,” Mortymer reminded him. “We offered some concessions then in order for them to help out and now having already given our word that they’ll be partial to the spoils we find ourselves lacking any spoils to offer. Again and according to the Andal parochial logic this is irrelevant and King Davenport must still honor his word. Or offer something different but of equal value. So the King initially promised him a Davenport husband for Lady Leonia.”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Well then,” Baron Trupo said with a shrug. “What’s the holdup?”
“The Duke of Andatelia presumed the husband to be Sir William, which Lady Leonia is obsessed with apparently. Visited the capital last summer, caught sight of the heir competing in all his manly glory and got her untouched groin all wet. Can’t begrudge her that since far more cultured maidens that are not of the provinces are known to behave randy around him. Lewd gossip aside that would have put the Andal girl on the throne given he’s… well, the heir. Yeah.”
“Ha-hah,” Enzo Riveras chuckled nervously. “Sir William shall wed Lady Bibby, the Burgundy Bouquet or her sister Lady Vivina, the Lady of Vines,” he added with a hint of pride, talking about his pretty daughters.
“Given Sir William’s reluctance and the fact Sir Darius is married already,” Mortymer continued somberly. “Their sister Lady Saskia Davenport, was offered to Sir Oscar Andal the Duke’s firstborn but our Queen Saskia the older, refused to even consider it given she isn’t partial to the King’s ideas lately. Our Queen feels wronged and given she is a Lennox, angering her more is the last thing the King wants. On the scales Duke Andal weights less. So he retracted the proposal which made the Duke even more livid.”
Saskia the young probably didn’t want to wed the ‘Lone Eye’ knight also, Primo thought. Given that she shares her mother’s character.
“So Colin the IV was put forth or Sir Heracles Davenport of Levacum,” Mortymer continued. “Colin is too young still and a singer which the Andals find unmanly and Sir Heracles while a good candidate was deemed a low offer given what was initially expected.”
“Damn.” Baron Trupo grunted now appearing troubled. “I can’t fault him.”
“Dominique for the love of Uher!” Riveras snapped at the fellow Wine Baron.
“It makes sense is all I’m saying Enzo,” Trupo insisted setting his jaw.
“Anyhow,” Mortymer said cutting in. “Duke Luke ended the talks and declared himself mortally aggrieved, which according to the old ways means King Davenport must approach him in repentance –from at least twenty meters- for the insult to be forgiven or wash away the sin with blood.” Mortymer grimaced and stared at the map of Eplas thoughtfully. “The King asked the Second Legion to move to Armium instead.”
Primo moved on his seat nervously and glanced at his solemn father.
“Lord Godfrey Caxaton is dead,” Riveras grunted. “But Legatus Pintor is his man. Married to his daughter. Where’s the Lord’s son? Where’s Vicus Caxaton now?”
“With Duke Luke Andal outside Dokamna.” Mortymer replied pursing his mouth. “The King ordered the Baron of Alesian Fort Marc Lennox to take over command of the Legion but Pintor refused to accept a change of leadership without the Council’s concession. The Legion Book gives him the leeway to do it and Pintor won’t easily relinquish command or accept a chaperone that isn’t friendly with the Andal patriarch. Caxaton are a cadet branch of the family after all. Even if he would it isn’t that easy now. Usually this was pretty straightforward and the King’s orders readily confirmed by the Council but the Lords beyond Andalus River won’t consent this time. So there’s a real possibility the Second might turn rogue or outright sit out the dispute. Arresting its Legatus is just not possible at this point given our manpower. It also keeps the Lennox’s men away from the capital and Dokamna.”
“Can Duke Frye push off the Andal forces?” His father asked.
“Dokamna has suffered big casualties fighting Lucius.” Mortymer reminded him.
“The King must reconsider,” Trupo said with a grimace and Riveras glared his way. “All I’m saying here, is that perhaps Sir William could forget marrying one of your daughters Enzo.”
Riveras turned red in the face and stood there unable to speak for a while.
“The Bank is against such a development,” Simon Mclean noted. “We need Duke Andal’s mines. Maybe I should speak with my father. Lady Diana?”
“Davenport should get out of the mess he created,” she replied. “He shouldn’t have pressured the Andal Lords to join us. They are difficult to work with and won’t change the terms of an agreement. The Bank never does with them and we aren’t about to risk our relations with them.”
“It is good that you’re so candid my Lady. So I’ll be as well as a fucking courtesy. You won’t dictate Lesia’s policy,” Mortymer warned her frostily. “You’ll do as the king commands or you’ll lose all what you’ve been allowed to have by his mercy.”
Lady Diana Merck licked her lips and stared at her husband that appeared troubled but not troubled enough to challenge the King’s spokesman.
Veteran hero of the campaign my arse, Primo thought disgusted.
“The expedition shall depart as scheduled,” Riveras grunted seeing the potential danger to lose their opportunity because of politics. “Most of the materiel is already on their way.”
“Take the loss. You’re a rich man,” Mortymer retorted narrowing his eyes. “Or postpone it for later.”
Eh, there is a time factor and it might work against us in this endeavor as well, Primo thought. Garth might be vulnerable today but he might not be on the morrow.
“The King owes the Wine Barons as much respect as Duke Luke Andal commands,” Riveras hissed. “The expedition shall depart as scheduled,” he repeated rigidly. “The provincial Duke is bluffing.”
“What if he isn’t?” Mortymer queried not appearing reassured at all. “Then we’ll have a mess in our hands and you’ll once again be unable to give help to the throne.”
“My family will stand by the King and give assistance if it comes to that.” Riveras hissed very affronted but Primo wasn’t certain if this was possible. Unless they were successful and this turned out to be a short campaign.
-
> Those that love history’s tales favor the shrewd operators of past times, buttress brave characters or risk-takers of the era and sing the praises of larger than life individuals, for whom plays are written about. Rarely all those qualities are packed inside the same body, covered in mythical armour and allowed to ride a giant wyvern. There should be no prodigies, no infallible creatures in this life. So it came as a huge surprise to the noble Lords of Flauegran’s fabled vine fields that the person in possession of the best seeds, the best vines and best soil in the known realms was also all that I mentioned earlier.
>
> Also according to himself and I apologize for the usage of foul language for I’ll just quote the renowned Monarch directly here ‘history might write I sort of was a fair cunt but truth is I’m vindictive as all fucks.’
>
>
>
> -
>
> Head Chef Saul Ferrero
>
> Complete History
>
> of the Realm’s Cuisine & Culinary delights
>
> -through the centuries
>
> (with recipes)
>
> Alongside a brief synopsis of the politics of the time
>
> Annotated by Lord Sirio Veturius
>
> 3rd Edition
>
> Year Three (195)
>
> Chapter VI
>
> -Primo D’Orsi’s calamitous Expedition, the Ghosts in the Reefs & the terrors birthed in Goras Peninsula-
>
> Garth vs Riveras - The Wine Wars of 192-201
>
> Published circa 212 NC
>
>
-
Two months later
Month Primus of 195 NC
The turn at Gish Lament
Oyster Anchorage Gulf approach
Aboard the Galleass Crying Valkyrie
Primo couldn’t see ten meters beyond the bow of the mighty warship. The mist thick and a pale grey, with huge boulders sprouting out of the frothy waters and the sun’s rays barely piercing the clouds above their heads.
“Nico Vardar’s ship turned inland,” Adriano Monte informed him and waved the two officers of the company away. Captain Gravina and Captain Binda. Both men Monte had trained fresh out of the military school at Armium. “The Bank’s men are getting itchy.”
“Simon is awake?” Primo asked with a grimace and wiped the brines from his face. The light beard hard to the touch.
“That sneaky bastard Arone is.”
“The wind whistles strangely from the south,” Primo said hoarsely, his eyes locked at the weird shapes hidden behind the mist. “You hear it?”
“I hear plenty of disturbing things milord,” Adriano said, pursing his wrinkled mouth. “Mussel is the other way.”
“Imagine if there’s more land behind the reefs,” Primo murmured grasping at the rails. “Big enough to moor a big ship.”
“Your father was tasked with helping the Wine Barons milord,” Adriano said. “Sight-seeing ain’t in the contract. You lead the company now.”
“The company died at Eikenport along with my cousin Tussio,” Primo replied and heard the ship’s bells ringing they were nearing rocks again. “This is another unit. You built it from scratch.”
“You’ve put as much work in it and Tussio’s men I still mourn,” Adriano reminded him. “But Tussio was a lying piece of murdering scum.”
“We are about to kill people we know nothing about Adriano,” Primo retorted.
“Aye that’s true. Can’t be a mercenary or a soldier without doing a bit of murdering milord, but Tussio was still a sadistic scum and I reckon we are not.” The veteran trainer made to say something more but caught himself. “Erminio Sardone will follow Nico,” he finally said hoarsely. “They’ll hit the port afore we arrive.”
“It’s a fucking ruin,” Primo grunted and scrunched his nose smelling sulfur and black tar in the air. Or something close to it. “There it is again,” he told Adriano.
“Signal Nico and Erminio,” Primo ordered. “Tell them to hold whilst we turn south. We might lose a day but we’ll know.”
“Know what milord?” Adriano queried and waved for Gravina to approach. The mercenary Captain walking gingerly over the soaked deck.
“What resides in the fucking mist south of Wetull,” Primo grunted passionately. That strange feeling of awe and dread mixed in engulfing the Lesia noble since they had arrived to these exotic waters, his eyes trying to pierce the misty veil and make sense of the shapes dancing beyond it.
-
> In the winter of 195 NC the Flauegran Council of Wine Barons disgusted by the lawlessness displayed by the criminals smuggling products from Wetull into Regia and Lesia, mainly wine in large quantities, decided to strike at the ‘King beyond the Pale Mountains’ lair. The large expeditionary force was funded by the Bank of Trust, due to its close ties with the Wine Barons, with Simon Mclean himself present alongside Timus Arone, accompanied by the veteran of Lesia’s war against King Lucius Claus Viceroy and the now known historian Saul Ferrero then employed by the Riveras family.
>
> Three mercenary companies got involved led by Erminio Sardone and Nico Vardar hired by the Barons. The reformed 333 company (the Bank’s most potent striking instrument and the brainchild of Jacomo D’Orsi who was determined to rebuilt it on the ashes of the old but famed 300 mercenary company that had been lost at Eikenport years earlier) led by Primo D’Orsi. Over two thousand trained soldiers had been loaded on the flotilla.
>
> It was a tumultuous last couple of years for the young noble and his father as they had lost his cousin Tussio at Eikenport first and then his half-sister Lady Eleonora along her husband Fausto Mclean in events we discussed at length in a previous chapter. While the incident grew way out of proportion much later, this deceptively large conflict (several historians disagree on the scale) impacted the Wine Barons ability to provide assistance to King Davenport during the events of the ‘cursed middle and later years’ of the winding down last decade of the century.
>
> The final years of the New Calendar’s second century still impacting the politics on Jelin today.
>
> There were three major consequences birthed of the Wine Barons lawful strike against the then presumed criminal empire of King Garth and his Zilan minions.
>
> First, it brought the matter of a sinister but resourceful character existing beyond the seas to the attention –of the then very distracted with Khan’s invasion of Kaltha- Lorian Lords fully. Unfortunately no unified front was created due to King Davenport’s disastrous handling of the ‘Andal affront’ that preoccupied King Lucius’ attention as well.
>
> Second, it forced the Lorian Lords to deal with the growing smuggling problem exported by the growing in power and wealth Wetull, their Cofol allies and the conglomeration of Eikenport pirates, Lorian smugglers and of various races powerful criminal underworld bosses that struck a ‘blood oath’ to protect the ‘coin route’. With Eikenport, Sinya Goras and Mussel receiving streams of produce and materiel from the greedy Eplas dominions, several ports or southern coast territories on Jelin were flooded with organized gangs of outlaws that soon almost tripled the profits of the black markets everywhere. The deleterious effect spreading like a decease with pirates ‘changing’ profession, wealthy criminals purchasing land and gaining influence in local politics especially in Aegium, Cediorum, Novesium, Asturia, Armium and Cartaport.
>
> Regia and Lesia banned the import of products from Wetull, imposed heavy tariffs on the alarmingly growing numbers of quick-witted Cofol merchants that braved an inhospitable desert or dangerous sea journey with their colorful turbans, slaves and camels bringing their vile customs on Jelin cities. King Lucius moved to forbid the presence of slaves inside cities with Lesia soon following but it led to whole parts of local existing slum areas been bought out by the determined Cofols that poured coin in building inside and outside the old city borders. The situation turned so bad, especially in Aegium where the previous non-existent slums between the city and Saltville ballooned to a small independent town of ten thousand with its own markets and a small but exotic Zilan district that Legatus Sula was ordered to cordon the whole area.
>
> The Legatus brought Nipius Bonosus the architect that had worked at Elysium Fort, constructed a wall around the town –now named Sing Ope-Le or walled Salt Town- with gates and enforced an entry fee for those wanting to visit while limiting the amount of items one could buy whilst there. In 198 NC at the first Valimae Lilt (or Bacchanalia) Sing Ope-Le hosted for the local foreign populace the number of Lorian visitors preferring to dance with the exotic Zilan and the Cofol slaves dwarfed those spending their coin in the nearby Aegium which was a blow to the prestige of the monitoring the situation Nonus Sula and caused him much grief. Some argue it gave him his now famed moniker, but the Legatus was always a salty man to those that know him the longest.
>
> Third, it forced the taken by surprise by the Wine Barons actions King Garth to invest in a better navy, he then used to protect his lawful and unlawful flotillas making the long journey through increasingly inhospitable waters. This protective Fleet -run by the infamous South Eplas Trading Company- would repeatedly clash in the open seas with the Lorian fleets trying to intercept the smuggling/merchant convoys approaching their shores and sink them away from sensitive eyes. The initial setbacks slowly reversing with more success following soon after as if the Ruler of Goras had limitless resources. The steadily increasing fleet of warships at the southernmost edge of Eplas would come in handy sometime later as it gave Garth the tantalizing option to bring across the seas much more than goods. He could transport an army and just like the Barons get his hands on a port either by force or through a deal.
>
> While he could have done it another way (travel across the seas that is), one can’t control a distant land from the air. Sometime later King Lucius -who had slowly come to realize the existential threat the resurging empire was to the now blinded by internal strife and divided Jelin kingdoms, had famously commented in a weird private audience with JB-Luff and his band of misfits ‘sooner or later there’ll be an escalation. I don’t trust divinations but this is a thought I could have made myself.’
>
> Despite the good praetor’s cryptic words, his divination came unfortunately true with the first warning coming with Primo’s expedition and the second much later with the naval battle at tiny Hand Atoll, the South Eplas Trading Company’s most famous feat that stopped the Lorian invasion of the Sinking Isles.
>
>
>
> -
>
>
>
> Lord Sirio Veturius
>
> Circa 206 NC
>
> The Fall of Heroes
>
> Chapter L
>
> Addendum
>
> -Volume IV-
>
> The Onyx Wyvern’s rule
>
> Fifth Year (195 NC)
>
> -Insurmountable odds-
>
> Based on Saul Ferrero’s notes, recollections from our discussions and his upcoming manuscript of the era.
>
> Prelude to the rise of the mighty South Eplas Trading Company & the bloody ‘Coin Route’
>
>