“A dinner invitation, once accepted, is a sacred obligation. If you die before the dinner takes place, your executor must attend.”
Ward McAllister
I had no plans on dying, but I was looking forward to finally meeting the local lord Jarl Njord, if only because I would hopefully reunite with Nyx. Our dinner invitation arrived less than an hour later; Xenodochus seemed to derive great pleasure in delivering it to us and promising us a fine feast, all at the expense of the local lord Jarl Njord, who had invited us for the evening repast. I assumed he did not get a lot of excitement if he was this excited about entertaining us or planned on overcharging significantly for the event.
Aware that some formality was required, I spent the hour we had waited for the invitation and the following hour before the dinner began attempting to turn some of the giants' gifts and the profits of my trading into a suitable gift for Jarl Njord. Xendochus had at least helped by informing us that the Jarl was interested in anything that glittered. Gold was not prevalent in the Drangar Valley of Tramontana. Without a war to profit from, his resources were limited to what they could delve from the Lodestone Labyrinth, the North being notoriously difficult to cultivate resources from covered in ice as it was.
With such simple stipulations, I fashioned one statue representing Lady Fortuna, the Goddess of Luck. The lady stood gracefully, one foot slightly in front of the other. Her flowing robes were gilded in gold, and the crown of laurel leaves was equally gilded and shone upon her head. The carved cornucopia she held overflowed with genuine, if small, gems and more gilded gold. I used a carved ice wyrm beast core as the orb of stormy weather above a turbulent sea. As usual, the statue's base was covered in games of chance, dice, cards, races, and wealth above death and destruction caused by weather, disaster or war. She could bring kings to ruin or beggars to wealth, depending on how fate fell. It would make a fantastic gift for the local lord and fulfil my promise to spread such statues throughout the Compass kingdoms, but I did not stop there. Seeing as I had time, I started another.
The second statue felt wrong to gild in gold as entirely as I had covered the statue of Lady Fortuna, but I did highlight the runes, glyphs, sigils, enchantments, and other arcane symbols in gilded gold. I even used a slim stick of Elendil tree plucked from my vault as his staff and blue sapphire to represent the shard of the lodestar that crowned it. They were two masterpieces worthy of royalty and well worth the return of Nyx that I hoped to be able to bargain with their exchange. Having completed the pair, I placed them within my spatial vault to pull them forth at the appropriate moment. I was a lord; spatial shenanigans were to be expected, not hidden as we had when we pretended to be commoners. We would simply be showing off our wealth, a double-edged sword that could open doors or be coveted by our host.
When it was finally time for dinner, we dressed as best we could and walked along the long corridors that made up the Gryfalcon’s Ledge. Xenodochus led the way to another private dining area further past the common entrance room, where a feast was laid out, and Jarl Njord sat waiting.
As we entered, he introduced us, “May I present . . . ” He paused for dramatic effect, “Lord Silversea of the Wester Isles, Azimuth Archipelago, Principality of Ponente and his guardian Namir Jalal, Wandering Warrior from the Kingdom of Ostro.” He beamed as he presented us as if to a royal court rather than a seated local lord. I winced a little at the length of the introduction; we were no longer travelling incognito, at least not in Drangasfjord. However, he was not finished and turned to introduce our hosts for the evening. “Receiving them is his Lord, Jarl Njord, Chief of Drangar Valley, Magistrate of Drangavik, Drangasfjord and Drangaskoll, Warchieftan among the Tribes of Tramontana, his wife, Fru Ingar til Drangar and their sons NJordson, Ingritte and Jor.”
The entire family rose to greet us like little giants. It was a little intimidating, but his verbose introduction was somewhat ruined by our host, a giant Nordic viking of a man shouting, “Ja, Ja,” as he waved the words away, gesturing for us and his family to sit down swiftly, “Let us eat.” He said his actions, suiting his words as he sat down and tucked into the feast without waiting for us. His sons sat swiftly to join him lest the food disappear before they got to it while his daughter waited for her mother’s response.
Pausing before sitting and gesturing us to join them, Fru Ingar was similarly striking in size but a little quieter in comparison. She smiled at her husband and family’s enthusiasm for the food and commented, “One cannot think well or talk well if one has not eaten well. Don’t mind him.” She waved away any offence her husband might have invertedly caused with his actions. “He is a gentle giant at heart if a little hungry at the moment.” She frowned in exasperation at her sons copying what she considered less than lordly habits while Ingritte and her calmly sat to join them at a more demure pace.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Ja, Ja, join us.” Jarl Njord repeated, and we joined them, recognising that we would be getting nowhere anytime soon without eating at least the first course of the feast and that if we did not start soon, there might not be a first course to feast on. Even Xenodochus retired to give us some privacy; his presence was not required once the drinks had been poured, the table served, and the guests were silently tucking into their food, famished.
. . .
I was soon replete, but our host seemed happy to continue. He was also delighted to talk now that he had some food inside himself. “Welcome, welcome to my humble holdings of Dragnar Valley.” His voice boomed around the room, more fitting for a battlefield than at a dining table. “I would have welcomed you sooner had I been aware of your arrival.” He inclined his head to acknowledge my status as a lord but also critiqued my unannounced appearance in his domain.
“Thank you for the warm welcome,” I answered diplomatically. It had been decided that we should attempt to get a feel for our host before bringing up the rather delicate issue of the theft of my dragonling. The fact that Nyx was now immune to the cold made her significantly more valuable in the north, where she could now thrive compared to before when she would have had to be kept inside simply to survive. She could even be used as breeding stock to create a northern strain of the noble pets.
“Xenodochus tells us that you are circumnavigating the compass kingdoms.” Fru Ingar interjected. “That is very brave of you to do so young and to do so separate from the church.” She sounded either impressed with my audacity or concerned by my stupidity. “Most groups travelling the well-worn path tend to do so in larger groups than two and are a little older.” She hedged, leaving our impression of her words up to our interpretation.
“To be completely honest, it was not entirely planned or at least not properly,” I admitted. “I always knew I wanted to travel and circumnavigate the compass. I had even been invited to do so by the church. But yes, our current travels and their timing were not entirely by choice.” I answered.
Jarl Njord, on the other hand, seemed enthused about our trip: “They seem to be doing swimmingly. It’s wonderful to be completing the circumnavigation so young. I wish I had the opportunity before I had to take up the mantle of Jarl. After all, it’s unlikely I will have the opportunity to do so now, and it cannot but help his experience gains with the distance he is travelling and the new sights that he is seeing.”
“Well, if there is anything we can do to help.” Fru Ingar offered while curbing her husband’s enthusiasm for the trip lest he send one of their three sons on one of their own. A couple of whom seemed intrigued by the possibility or envious of the fact that I had been allowed to complete one so young despite the less-than-optimal circumstances.
“While it was not planned, I am attempting to make the most of our journey and would offer some gifts in the hopes of forging good relationships between the Principality of Ponente and the Tribes of Tramontana, specifically Drangar Valley and the Wester Isles of the Azimuth Archipelago,” I said as I produced the two statues for the ruling couple handing one to each parent in turn.
Fru Ingar looked flattered to be included in the gift-giving, and Jarl Njord seemed struck silent by the gold-covered statue he held in his hands. Fru Ingar covered for his temporary lapse, “A fine gift of friendship, Lord Silversea, we will treasure them.”
“Yes,” Jarl Njord rejoined the conversation, reluctantly, setting the statue down on the table. “I’m sure we can forge a strong friendship between our fiefs despite the distance.” He promised enamoured by the gold gilded statue.
His firstborn, NJordson, sat at his father’s right hand, turned the statue in front of him and asked, “Who are they? Or rather, who do they represent?” intrigued. “I don’t recognise them or their domains from the eight.” He added comparing them to the eight cardinal and ordinal gods celebrated by the church of the Lodestar.
“Lost gods,” Namir answered his question. Despite joining us at the table like the Jarl’s sons, he had refrained from commenting until now, leaving the conversation to the nobles of equal standing. This was a level of etiquette I had been taught but had never practiced or even noticed until now.
“Lost gods?” Jor questioned now that the floor had been opened up for them to talk.
“There are more bearings a man can take than the simple eight. Are gods to be limited to only eight?” I questioned, causing Jor no small measure of confusion. Amused by man's nature to simplify reality to easily grasped concepts when it was so much more complex than that.
“And these?” Ingritte asked in turn, having waited for both sons to speak before her despite being older than Jor, the thirdborn.
“Luck, magic, fate.” I shrugged. Time will tell.” I was not entirely sure of all the answers myself. I knew who the female statue represented, but the male had never officially been named or defined; only demanded.
“Pious as well as pretty.” She commented, tripping me up, I felt a flush of heat rush to my neck.
“One tries, but ultimately, it is often up to fortune or fate, and I can take no credit for that.” I was reluctant to accept or acknowledge her jibe.
Jarl Njord coughed, retaking control of the conversation. “Yes, fine gifts of friendship. Would you have anything of us in return?” he asked, moving on to the cost of reciprocation. Receiving gifts could swiftly become more expensive than he could afford if we chose to keep giving or did not acknowledge the lack of strings attached to our presentation.
“Actually, there is one service you might be able to perform for us,” I answered carefully. “It is not so much a gift as a service. We, or rather I, seem to have misplaced my companion in your town today. I’m sure she will return suitably soon upon her own. But if she does not or if there is a way that you could help us look for her, I would be eternally grateful.” I finally answered and arrived at the reason why we had arranged this whole meeting.
“You’ve lost your companion. Of course, we will help you to reunite. Who are they?” Jarl Njord insisted.
“Not someone, something.” I cautioned carefully as I approached the delicate nature of the theft that had been made against us today.
The family paused to consider what precisely I was asking for. “Something?” Fru Ingar asked worriedly.
“Yes, Nyx, my dragonling, escaped today from our temporary accommodation, and she disappeared somewhere in Drangasfjord.”
“A dragonling?” Fru Ingar asked again, her worries confirmed. It appeared I had found the culprit, even if the rest of the family was unaware of the crime.