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Sir Gust De Weer
‘Raven of Dawn’
A Vulture’s Funeral | One must stand sincere
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image [https://i.postimg.cc/q4vqCxbK/elsanne-s-domain.jpg]
Elsanne's domain, circa 195 NC
“Thus passes old Ruud, second of his name, son of Rik. Heed not his now lifeless vessel in sorrow, for his reign was full and his journey complete. Heed not his next journey with fear, for Oras knows him well. The Allgods acknowledge his deeds and recognize his name, even when not spoken. Thus we declare aloud that Ruud has crossed over,” the ascetic priest of Oras Arnaut Katers sang soberly inside the narrow, badly lit hall. The air heavy from the burning incense and the oily cadaver odor, the hall blurry in the smoldering light of the two large chandeliers.
“Over to the Warden of Crypts and the Guardian of Tombs’ domains, so say we all,” Baron Sigurd Bach –another priest of Oras- replied in the same tone. The standing crowd agreed with a loud murmur to the two priests’ back and forth, with their colleague of sorts, the priest of Tyeus Sir Nootveld, humming along. The abstemious moment interrupted by the sound of many birds stopping by, some landing between the priests and their esteemed audience, as everyone faced Ruud’s enshrouded corpse, and other birds even repeating the funeral psalms chorus.
Or making it their own.
“Bunch of crock!” Bugs the Raven thundered, beady eyes ogled and shiny in their scrutiny of the bystanders.
“So say we all!” Bob the Crow agreed walking awkwardly before the comely Queen, clad in her ‘simple mourning white and red garb’ that showed off her caramel skin. “Ann Burton,” Bob greeted Elsanne in a high-pitched voice.
“Bob,” the Queen stated over the startled murmurs from the watching crowd. “Let us finish the day sermon.”
CAW! The crow cried out loudly with the much larger raven agreeing with a gurgle.
KRAA!
Gust grimaced in anger at the feathered intruders and Bugs blinked in response, his soulless black eyes searching the faces of those present for a while. Then with another gurgling croak, the giant bird leaped over the priests with the help of its wings, in order to land on the slab next to Ruud’s corpse.
Katers glanced at the scowled Sir Gust and the latter nodded for them to continue and bring the second ceremony of the day to an end.
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After most of the visitants left the service hall through the opened doors for the much-bigger throne room, leaving the mortician Sebastian Leigh and the priests behind, Gust allowed Elsanne to walk after their guests to talk briefly with Sir Mart Nootveld.
The service hall would remain open for the mourners and those wishing to pay their respects to Ruud throughout the night.
“The duchy shall miss you brother Gust,” the leader of the knightly order of Tyeus rustled with a sober expression.
“Um,” Gust nodded with a grunt, his expression not much more relaxed than the priest’s. “Is it true Grand Disciple Ventor is using Crassus Pilgrims as his personal detail lately?”
The ‘Pilgrims of the South Coast’ were another militant order –originating in Lesia- dedicated to God Tyeus, favored by lowborn citizens and under the leadership of Monk Nicetius.
“I reckoned you would ask me of your wedding.”
“It’s a relevant query,” Gust spat clenching his jaw. “You want me to repeat it?”
“Thou shouldn’t,” the priest stopped him with a smile. “Regia is a dangerous place these last couple of years,” Nootveld added.
“Never would have fathomed Lucius would ever allow an Augusta into his circle,” Gust admitted watching the De Braal family approaching the slab to pay their respects to the deceased Ruud. Lady Annie-Marie and her brother Jurian with the lively Remus, her son and Sir De Braal’s grandson followed by Baron Mikel De Weer, the former High Treasurer of Kaltha.
“Ventor was slow to react and Uher’s priests might have had a hand in murdering Lucius little sister,” Nootveld replied.
“You don’t believe that,” Gust grunted.
“He just lost a kid is the word, so I rather walk a cautious path with my beliefs and not dismiss anything beforehand,” Nootveld insisted.
“Who told you that?” Gust stared at the sober priest furrowing his brows.
“That Valens officer, Rufius.”
Gust searched for the two Legion officers and spotted them through the open doors inside the throne room, near Elsanne and Jasi. Their polished red and gold ancient-type Lorica Segmentata armour with the distinct red tunics, setting them apart from the Issirs present.
“Anything else worth of note?” Gust rustled narrowing his eyes.
“You are great in the field Lord Veer, but a king must be good in many things,” Nootveld bantered and waved for Mael’s nephew to approach them.
“The queen is a fine diplomat,” Gust retorted with a curt nod at the young Daan Bolte, his skinny frame exacerbated by the grey robes he had on.
“For an Eikenaar,” Nootveld muttered.
“Speak not in riddles Brother Mart,” Gust warned, crooking his mouth.
“No riddles,” Nootveld replied. “They consult the Shrines only when it’s convenient, and behave alike pirates the rest of the time.”
He’s talking of Elsanne’s entourage, Gust thought. “They helped her when no one else would,” he told the aging priest. “Where are you going with this?” Gust asked seeing his sullen countenance.
Nootveld grimaced and glanced at the funeral slab. Bugs stood rigidly upright, larger than the biggest eagle and glared solemnly their way.
“A pirate’s heart flows with the wind and words uttered carelessly travel a great distance,” the priest of Tyeus replied stiffly and stood back determined to speak no more.
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Gust walked inside the throne room and noticed Elsanne occupying the Duke’s seat now. He paused near Hubert Boss and the two Lorian officers, with the stoutest of the pair tending his right arm out in greeting.
“Sir Gust,” the elderly chamberlain said and then made the introductions. “This is Prefect Rufius Valens of the 4th Legion and Optio Damian Holt of the 1st.”
“My condolences for your loss,” Prefect Valens told Gust grabbing the taller knight’s elbow, with his younger colleague uttering similar words.
“Um,” Gust replied looking at both in turn. “I remember a Sir Valens from Antoon’s tourneys.”
“My late brother Maximilian,” Rufius replied with a reserved expression. “He was with the Royal Guards.”
“I’m sorry to hear it, how did he fell?” Gust rustled.
“He was killed by your brother’s men I believe,” Rufius replied stiffly.
“Rik was defending the Queen of Regia,” Gust grunted and Hubert cleared his throat in an attempt to interrupt them nervously. “We are just stating facts Hubert,” Gust told him.
“The war has been costly to many families,” Rufius said diplomatically.
Gust nodded. “Is the war over?”
“The Tiger’s war is,” Rufius replied.
Ah.
“King Lucius is well aware that our Queen must secure her rights and defeat the Khanate,” Gust told the two officers matter-of-factly.
“He is,” Rufius replied with Damian nodding in a reserved manner.
“Will he offer assistance?” Gust queried raspingly.
“The King has acted already,” Rufius countered with a half-smile.
Against the Khanate was his meaning.
“What about Elsanne? He’s the High King’s sister,” Gust grunted with Hubert flinching at his bluntness.
“The young Antoon is the late High King’s son Sir Gust,” Rufius argued calmly. “What about his rights?”
“The boy is illegitimate,” Gust rustled.
“It’s a dispute, but not that uncommon these days,” Rufius agreed with a hint of razz and Optio Holt nodded sadly not getting the jab. Gust glared at them for a tense moment, then spotted Lissane Reuten cross the main hall in order to reach the small west chamber, where Ruud’s body was displayed. Mayor Ron Bach followed after his mother, still sporting the slight limp Gust had given him in the games a long time ago.
“You’ll stay for the wedding?” Gust asked the two officers wrapping up their conversation as politely as he could muster.
“We will,” Damian replied this time. “Congratulations Sir Gust,” he added a little relieved at the change of topic.
“Uhm. Hubert shall arrange quarters for you,” Gust replied, his mind on Lady Lissane. “Who else is in need of accommodations Hubert?”
“Captain Voges and the queen’s band,” the chamberlain said. “I’ve made arrangements.”
“Good,” Gust grunted absentmindedly. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Sir Gust, if I may,” Rufius stopped him. “King Lucius would like us to check on his brother’s kids and write a report.”
Gust eyed the stout officer soberly.
“Tell Lucius the kids are fine. No need to write a report,” he finally said in a rigid manner.
“Queen Elsanne said the same thing, but orders are…” Rufius Valens started, but Gust cut him off curtly.
“Then you shouldn’t have brought it up Prefect. I don’t care about yer orders,” he told him austerely. “Enjoy your stay in Blackcrow’s Pillar.”
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Gust returned inside the much more silent funeral hall, but spotted Lissane near his father’s body and paused near the entrance not wanting to interrupt her. He glanced beyond the rows of lit candles at Sigurd speaking with Ron Bach and then a strong smell of fragrant hyacinth, a blend of strawberries and honeysuckle, engulfed him.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He cast a sideways glance over his right shoulder and noticed that a mature Issir female clad in a lacy white dress had come to stand next to him. The attractive woman had her long white hair caught in a loose short braid that hang down her nape, showing off a comely oval face and bright green eyes painted with coal.
Gust pursed his mouth and the woman made a small curtsy, followed by a nervous smile.
“In death we all stand equal,” she whispered. “Lord Veer.”
“Not everyone believes this,” Gust grunted. “But it’s true. You seem familiar.”
“I’m Ellen of Forestfort,” the woman informed him.
Ah.
“I can wait for you to speak with the Duke,” Ellen added in that same throaty voice, the swell of her breasts fighting to escape the tight opening and the silent Gust grimaced, afore taking a step back.
“Go ahead,” he retorted gruffly, grinding his teeth. “Ruud and I have spoken enough.”
Gust had burst out of the funeral hall. He almost ran over the scrambling to dodge him Axel, who stood outside the doors for some reason. Gust gave his squire a warning stare and then returned to the throne room to find a mirthful Elsanne speaking with a group of colorful musicians. The roguish bard Rory, Gust easily recognized by the fiercely red head-scarf and the big earrings, but it was the Queen’s throaty chuckle listening to the bard’s jokes that gave him pause.
If Ellen was a famed Issir beauty, Elsanne radiated under the chandelier’s light sitting on the throne. Ruud’s hall now cleaned up and despite the noisy littering crows’ reluctance to behave, or stop dropping stuff everywhere, much more hospitable.
He felt more than heard Bugs awkward approach and the massive raven came to stand near the distracted knight, its black head snapping energetically right and left, as if to scrutinize with its beady eyes each of the small groups of guests, preparing for the honorary supper to be served.
“Where’s all the food?” Bugs croaked, opening its beak wide threateningly. “Motherfuckers!”
Rory guffawed upon hearing the Raven’s indecorous remarks and many of the guests turned to look at the seriously miffed and uncomfortable Gust standing next to it.
“Mate that’s the start of a riotous stanza right there!” Rory said looking at the raven curious. “Ye are a big boy ha-ha, fer sure. Speak something else!”
“Eat a fresh turd!” Bugs blasted the grinning bard and snapped its beak shut angrily. “Dicks for brains!”
“Go hunt a deer Bugs,” Gust grunted irate. “This is not the time.”
“The time is but hours away,” the Raven croaked ominously turning its head. “Heed the queen’s words.”
‘Leftovers. Skin and flesh covered in gore, you can’t make out,’ the injured Ruud had said. ‘Lies mixed in with the truth, shoveled under the mud. Aye. We had to do it. Needs some working, the vile bird had said. Some good fortune. Uhm. Never trust it fully. The Queen must know that, for the boy to know as well growing up. No dreams of fancy tourney tales, or glorious adventures of lying scum, pretending to be heroes. I told Rik all about it whilst you were away. He knows what to do and he’ll make sure Janneke’s kids know as well, but this is on you. The naked secrets of the realm, are always ugly son. Because the crows will never leave.’
Gust narrowed his eyes. “You are talking with Elsanne,” he hissed and the Raven blinked. “What did you say to her?”
“Bend the knee,” Bugs repeated the words first spoken to him during the High King’s hunt.
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“Ruud had been a generous man in life and he stands a generous man in death,” Sigurd alleged from his spot at the table, raising high a goblet of red wine. The majority of the people sitting at the two large tables located in front of the empty Duke’s throne nodded, not because anyone truly believed it, but out of politeness. The latter quality what the deceased Duke lacked the most. Gust pursed his mouth staring at Elsanne’s elegant profile and then at the higher-ranked guests sitting at their table. The sullen Ron Bach and his mother Lissane. Sir Jan Reuten, who had fought by his side for years on Eplas. His sister Janneke and the twins, Alistair and Patience. The latter playing with his brother Sir Rik, who was to be declared the Duke of Scaldingport after Sigurd finished his eulogy for their father. Lord Mikel talking with Sir Mart Nootveld and Stefan De Braal, next to the dosing off Hubert Boss. Florentine Madan, the merchant from Rusted and then the ‘military wing’ of the table. Sergeant Niclas Fliers, Captain Voges, Lieutenant Luke Faber from Castalor and the two Lorian high-ranking Legio officers, Holt and Valens. “Once Ruud committed to a stratagem, you knew the old Duke would deliver. Never wavered to kings, Northmen, or the Khan’s cronies and we shall miss his council. I never thought I’ll be uttering these words, but here I am,” Sigurd finished. He received a loud ovation from the guests and then bowed his head to the watching Elsanne.
The Queen stood up from her seat and the noise died down inside the main hall immediately. Even the crows present paused their discourse and turned to watch as the short-statured Elsanne walked slowly to the empty throne. She stood in front of it and then gazed at the two long tables’ setup for the funeral supper for a long contemplating moment.
“We appreciate those that came to bid his grace Duke Ruud De Weer a final farewell. Friends and former enemies. In our final hour one must stand sincere and while perhaps some of his actions were uncomfortable to us, he did,” Elsanne started regally in a clear voice, both hands clasped over her stomach. “We were acquainted with Lord Ruud for years and some of you present in this hall, knew him for even longer. Lord Ruud was a friend of the crown and a man who could cut through the bullshit and the noise. He could spot a ruse forming from afar and call it out without hesitation,” Gust pursed his mouth, but Elsanne continued. “He stood by my rights against the conspirators lies. Lords and prominent men of faith, believers in the Five Gods conspired, turned against our rightful claims, but Lord Ruud didn’t. He has been slandered of being a parochial relic of the centuries before, following forgotten dogmas and an obscure faith, some of you are familiar with. A serial philanderer with an uncouth tongue, but also fair to his friends. Still, once Ruud gave you his word, he stood behind it and delivered whatever the cost.”
Gust stared at the sober Stefan De Braal and then at Hubert Boss. The old chamberlain was now awake and listened to the Queen with a moved expression on his wrinkled face.
“We recognize Lord Ruud’s vices and his strange beliefs. We offer a hand of friendship to the Others. The old gods of Veer’s Gulf and Deer’s Retreat. We shall cast them aside no more,” Elsanne continued and several of their guests, especially the two Lorian officers frowned in surprise. Sir Nootveld and Lord Sigurd, both men priests of the Five, grimacing uncomfortable. “And we’ll respect the duchy’s line of succession, for all the offspring of his bloodline that follow, or are willing to accept the old ways.”
Janneke pursed her mouth briefly, but then reached to touch Rik’s face softly with a glance at the watching Gust. “Approach Sir Rik De Weer, a knight of the Three Kingdoms and true heir to Blackcrow’s Pillar. This empty seat, stands empty no more.”
Rik stood up amidst murmurs of approval by the old guard and their guests. He walked towards the expecting Elsanne followed by Sir Roland Klaas.
“We recognize the friend of the Throne, Lord Rik De Weer, third of his name, Duke of Scaldingport, keeper of the Great Greenforest and ruler of Veer’s Gulf. Do we have agreement?” The Queen asked those present and Gust stood impressed in her ability to navigate the difficult public event.
“We do your majesty,” Rik replied simply, when no one voiced an objection, bowing his dead and people rose up to clap their hands with enthusiasm, the sober atmosphere of the previous weeks lifting for a moment. A relieved Gust pushed back on his chair, watching the twins yelling in Janneke’s arms and her tearful eyes. He caught sight of Lissane’s tensed expression at the other table and Ellen’s guarded stance against the glares of those sitting next to her. His own squire amongst them.
“Let us bid our farewell tonight to the late Lord Ruud and welcome Duke Rik with open arms,” Elsanne continued, a hint of naughtiness in her voice, forcing Gust to turn all his attention on the queen, who beamed his way. “For on the morrow, we shall be wed to his brother and Issir’s Eagle shall have her Raven.”
Eh, damn it, Gust thought feeling very uncomfortable, as at once everyone had turned their attention on him. A great round of loud applause ensued, the teasing calls turning into a great ruckus when people started banging their fists on the tables rattling plates and cutlery.
“This funeral dinner turned into a dwarf’s symposium pretty fast, just without all the quarreling,” a very-flustered Jasi blurted out and seeing Gust’s warning glare, he added quickly. “My goodness! Did I said that out loud? Apologies, I had too much red wine my lord.”
“Use the water barrel to straighten yourself out,” Gust growled channeling the late Mael, amidst the cheers directed his way.
“Heh, it might work,” Jasi smiled nervously. “Oh, you’re serious.”
“Aye,” came a scowled Gust’s retort and he stood up abruptly, pushing the chair backwards whilst rattling the table. Jasi blinked in panic and ducked under it, but the now smiling Gust just raised his goblet to his guests, instead of going after the eunuch.
In that brief mirthful, though uncomfortable, moment Gust realized he could suddenly breathe more free amidst the people and take some of life’s malarkeys in stride.
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Ides of Sextus (15th) 195 NC
Very early morning
Blackcrow’s Pillar
The Pirate Queen’s Nuptials
A sleepless Gust left the funeral dinner table after everyone else had retired to their quarters. He walked inside the silent side hall that housed the embalmed Duke’s body that was covered, but for the balding, spot-covered, head and stood at arm’s length from his deceased father. Ruud’s gaunt face had two large pieces of silver covering his eyes. The offerings of the mourners and visitors left near the enshrouded body, but for the braided locks of hair some of the females had placed over his chest, just above where the Duke’s old sword had been loosely secured.
A goblet of wine and a carafe of clean water for the road. A piece of bread to fill his stomach and the coin to bribe Oras servants for the true passage. Gust looked about him for any bystanders, but only a crow loitered on the other side of the slab. The bird used its black beak to place a large feather on Ruud’s shoulder.
“What was he thinking Bob?” Gust asked the old crow and it turned its head at the sound of his voice. The black eyes soulless.
CAW!
“There’s no one else here,” Gust grunted at the capricious bird and Bob blinked a couple of times, but said nothing.
“I just wanted the princess,” Gust said, his voice coming out hoarse in the empty and dimly lit by the burned-out candles hall. “To stand by her side and keep her enemies away. Never really fathomed she’d have to fight for the throne of Kaltha in the process. Not without Ruud having my back.”
CAW!
“Can Rik hold it together?” Gust asked looking at his father’s face. “Everyone else is stronger than us. What’s the play? Why keep on spreading bastards? Why suddenly order his men to put a stop to it? How is Riet worse than Ellen, or Lissane?”
“He didn’t. That was the monkey talking to Hubert,” Bob croaked jumping on the Duke’s chest, clawed leg scratching at the pommel of the sword. “Ruud tried to outsmart the Raven, but he couldn’t. So he gave up.”
“Bugs caused this?”
“The Raven doesn’t create the future, but it strives to preserve it from all those seeking to change upcoming crucial events for their benefit. Some gods and a few mortals are drown in their unhealthy passions, lose their mind in search of even more gold and power, or risk it all for more glory thrust unto their name. The Others are much more varied in their approach, a touch naughty, but in the end they all agree… it is survival what matters the most.”
Gust eyed the crow somberly. “Ruud lost his life to best Radin,” he grunted. “Why not retreat?”
“Ruud lost his life to protect your son,” Bob replied in his croaky, inhuman voice. “If he didn’t and the boy was lost, you would have perished at 3Roads soon after. Robert retreated, but you wouldn’t. Without you and the boy, the queen won’t take the throne.”
“You care about Elsanne?” Gust growled in disbelief and Bob opened its beak wide to let a croaky sharp chuckle out. “Speak, curse ye!”
“Elsanne is like Ruud, very practical and a good listener,” Bob replied. “But no, we don’t really care. Ruud wanted this. He was ambitious after all. Also a bit of a vindictive cunt. Ah, you should let the queen do her thing by the way.”
“You are lying Bob. Bugs all but killed himself to make it happen,” Gust grunted irate and stooped to grab the cunning crow that croaked in righteous protest, then used its wings to leap away from the slab.
CAW! CAW!
“Gust,” a man’s voice said and he turned around to see who it was. Ron Bach was standing near the doors, the throne room’s lights on his back.
“I’m finished here,” Gust told him, crooking his mouth. “You can have your time.”
“I made my peace with the Duke a long time ago,” Ron said and Gust paused to stand next to the shorter man with a frown. “But I do care about my mother.”
Gust stared in his face intently, and while he could see some of Ruud there, it wasn’t much.
“What do you want?” He rustled raspingly.
“She lost her father and now stands scorned in public, after named the Duke’s secret mistress. A shamed widow no less, forced to live among people looking down on her.”
“It was her choice to betray her husband,” Gust hissed and Ron stood back with a scowl.
“The Duke didn’t believe in all that,” Ron retorted trying to keep his voice low. “You’ll put the blame on her, when he assumed responsibility in his deathbed?”
“You’re still a bastard Ron,” Gust rustled. “Your brother as well.”
“Sir Stans wasn’t. Colle fought for the queen and Sir Jan traveled with you putting all other matters aside. Colle is no more. Her father is no more. Where is the justice Sir Gust?”
“Did Sigurd put you up to this? Robert’s report says Walter retreated,” Gust hissed.
“Walter did. But lost most of his army and is seriously injured,” Ron Bach replied tensely. “We lost everything and no, Sigurd won’t say it, but I will. The queen should offer compensation. I shan’t be silenced.”
“You tried it once before Ron,” Gust reminded him and Ron nodded looking determined to make a stand. They were both unarmed, but this was a huge disadvantage for the limping Mayor of Colle. You idiot. Gust puffed out and then sucked on his teeth thoughtfully. “Teun is backing the High Regent.”
“Teun is a Royal Knight. He couldn’t break his oath without reason,” Ron retorted.
“Sigurd could just take Lissane in as his brother’s widow, and we will eventually march on Colle again,” Gust offered him.
“You can’t be serious Sir Gust. Sigurd doesn’t want her anywhere near his family. My mother, Mona my sister. He stripped me of my titles,” Ron snapped. “Can’t you talk with the queen? A minor title is all that she asks for services rendered. If not for her, then surely for her father.”
“A title for you.”
“Will you swear to take care of my mother in her later years?”
“I won’t,” Gust grunted gruffly, then furrowed his thick brows. “And Ruud didn’t say anything about Mona… ah, curse it.” Gust sighed. “Have you talked with Rik?”
“Rik will look to secure Janneke’s future,” Ron retorted angrily. Whoa, you lads have been talking about this for a while, Gust thought. “It is a fair request Sir Gust,” his half-brother insisted sounding sincere. “Speak with the queen. You’re her spouse.”
Yeah.
“I will speak with the queen, but don’t expect miracles,” Gust retorted reluctantly. Then with a grimace of frustration, he walked past the relieved Ron Bach, leaving him alone with their deceased father.