Wildlands (Closed RP)

Wind both natural and man-made shrieked across the concrete field, Neuanfang international airport was such in name only, the public terminals were months away from being in any way completed and the recent Hessunland debacle had stalled work even further.

What was operational were the dozen or so concrete military landing strips, a long dreary line of prefabs and radio towers, thousands of military and diplomatic personnel disembarked from this zone every month, the constant deafening sound of propeller blades made an unpleasant first impression of Essalanea with most of the arriving troops.

Gaiseric gritted his teeth, between the sound of aeroplane turbines and his brother munching on a kebab his head felt like it might explode. Their jeep sat next to airstrip one, a fenced-off zone reserved for high ranking diplomats, Gaiseric had departed from it countless times on diplomatic business, it seemed only appropriate to meet his guests here.

'How in Ziu's name did you even get a marmot kebab!?' Gaiseric said eyeing Alric irritably as the latter continued gnawing on a long strip of grilled meat, oblivious to his annoyance

'Old lady sells them a few strips back, Norsian's love them!' Alric said with a full mouth

Gaiseric rolled his eyes and raised his binoculars, it was an overcast day but he could just make out the distant blur of an approaching plane.

'The first delegation should be arriving in twenty minutes, my lord!' The radio tower informed Gaiseric, the message filled with the buzz of static

'Almost time' Gaiseric thought suddenly anxious, he had met diplomats before but seldom in his homeland, first impressions would leave lasting ones.

'So this Toby, you think he can actually bring down a wolf?' Alric said tossing aside the greasy stick of his kebab

'That would be Tobias Lothbrok III, King of Prydania' Gaiseric corrected with a raised eyebrow

'Yeah, you think he can do it?' Alric said ignoring his brother's irritation

'Hard to tell, he's spent most of his youth among hunters and soldiers, I'm sure he's dealt with beasts before' Gaiseric said thoughtfully

Gaiseric had met the young king twice before, once in Pataliputra at the Gala and again at the founding of the Luscova Pact, he came across as a genuine and honourable man. Gaiseric had heard bits and pieces of Tobias's story, a prince forced to fight for his life and his crown, but he knew only very little of the man himself, this hunt more then anything was a chance to change that.

'Not our beasts' Alric said grimly

'No, not our beasts' Gaiseric replied affirmatively

The king had eagerly expressed his desire to hunt on the steppe, to kill a wolf with his grandfather's rifle, it was a rite of passage every clanborn knew well, Gaiseric had happily invited him to the steppe to fulfil that desire. The King had clapped him on the shoulder and proclaimed his intent to gain a pelt to wear to his wedding with Alycia, the wolf queen of Norsia herself.

Gaiseric had not thought much of his offer at the time, truth be told he had been surprised when Tobias had actually informed him of his acceptance, now the practicalities of the affair began to worry the High chief. Essalanean wolves were big, wickedly smart and they always travelled in packs, he had no desire to see a man maimed or killed while under his protection.

'And what about that Princess...Claidie? no that's not right' Alric said interrupting his train of thought

'Madeline' He corrected again 'Did you actually read the briefing I sent?' Gaiseric said prodding Alric accusingly

Alric batted his hand away and gave him a mischievous grin 'I may have skim read' he said with a chuckle

Gaiseric rolled his eyes 'Madeline, and she's a prime minister, not a princess' Gaiseric said with a sigh

'Eh, some unhorsed noble then, you think she will handle things well?' Alric asked

Gaiseric had to think about that, he had read that Sil Dorsettian youths were trained in survival during their formative years...but this was Essalanea, nothing save the Essalanean way could truly prepare someone for the harsh land of the clans. He knew she was a powerful figure in her homeland, a woman used to being busy and Helbrandt Karg had been gushing over her love of firearms since their meeting at the Gala in Syrixia.

'She knows her guns I know that much' Gaiseric said

'No wonder Helbrandt all but begged you invite her, I think the Karg is going soft' Alric chuckled mischievously

'It didn't really require any great convincing on her part, she sounded eager to be here like she had something to prove' Gaiseric said letting the last word trail off

Both men sat in silence for a moment, they both knew that the Steppe had a way of drawing seekers to her great plains, Essalanea was a proving ground for the worthy and a destroyer of the weak, Gaiseric did not think his guests were weak...but how would they handle the hunt? the steppe was home to terrible creatures, he would have to ensure the security for both parties were briefed again before they began.

The blur on the horizon had begun to grow larger and more clear, the first plane's arrival was imminent, Gaiseric breathed in deeply and set down his binoculars.

'Alric I want you to do something for me' Gaiseric asked his tone suddenly soft

'Anything Brother' Alric said absently, he was lounging on the back seat of the jeep as though he was on some Ceretian beach

'Like a lion between meals,' Gaiseric thought with an amused smile

'I need you to keep our guests safe' Gaiseric said in a serious voice

'Anything gets too dicey I intervene, don't worry brother, they are my guests too' Alric said meeting his gaze with a sincere look

'That they are' Gaiseric thought with a frown 'Time to go meet them and take their measure, may they not be found wanting'

In the sky above the plane began its descent like a great bird coming to roost.

Norvalle, a couple weeks prior...

"I won't allow it."

"Not yours to decide, Your Highness. We're equals, remember? Plus, it was an invitation."

Madeline was locked in a heated debate with the senior Princess over the value of her taking even more time off for something personal. She wanted a week to herself, willingly yielding to the Speaker and stepping away from her family, including her newborn. She wanted to challenge herself, to step away from the political scene for just a little while and step back into her not-so-distant militiawoman mentality. She wanted to be sure she was on top of her skills and ready to defend her family and country, political benefits and assurances of safety aside.

Essalanea was, to her, the ultimate test, and being invited there was a conveniently placed opportunity. Although it was on the move to modernity, the challenges of the steppe were still enticing.

Princess Claidie was having none of it, failing to understand why her Prime Minister wanted to take the risks. She couldn't comprehend why a national leader and a mother of four needed to risk her own life for some personal affirmation. But, in the end, Madeline's usage of the law, a law Claidie herself created, ensured the princess was powerless to stop her.

"You need to have a bit more faith in what we preach, Claidie," Madeline said to her royal counterpart. "We talk about preparedness, but out of the three of us, I'm the only one listening and keeping up. And, if I'm going to get you and your sister up to speed soon, I need to make sure I'm on top of my game. That's why I'm doing this. I need to know that what we're teaching works."

"You have family to raise! You have a newborn! You don't need to do this, Madeline," Claidie pleaded.

"I'm leaving in a couple weeks, so you'll have plenty of time to prepare. Jean^[1] will take care of anything you need for the week. My husband will be just fine taking care of my children. Are we clear?"

"Fine," Claidie said, relenting. "You have the time, use it. I just wish I wasn't for something dangerous. You make sure you come back."

"If I don't come back, then everything every Silien learned in school is a lie. Fix it if that's the case. Besides, I'll be in good hands."

Madeline headed back home to prepare, and over a few days she went over every piece of equipment in her backpack and cleaning the two rifles she wanted to take with her as well as her sidearm. She seemed ready for war, but it was only a war against herself.


Neuanfang Intl., present day...

Being shipped out on a private plane afforded Madeline a modicum of leeway when it came to the regulations on what she could take with her. Two gun cases, a holstered pistol, and a backpack of camping gear accompanied her, and the cases were secured with thick plastic seals with serial numbers tracked in a tiny black notebook. Others thought she was crazy for this kind of attention, but nothing got by the Prime Minister.

She brought her favorite bolt-action rifle, chambered in .50 Berenice^[2], the largest round Sil Dorsettians produced and was legal to buy, but it was more of a show weapon she wanted to bring to let the clans know she wasn't soft. Her .308 Sprekker^[3] was her actual hunting weapon and the one she brought the most ammo for.

After stepping off the plane and unloading her equipment, she noticed her hosts in the distance. Setting down the .50 she held in her right, she waved to greet them and made her way over, trying not to show any sign of struggle given the weight she was carrying.

The true test would now begin.

---

Notes:
[1] Jean-Baptiste Chastain, the Speaker of the Chamber of Law
[2] RL Equivalent: .50 BMG
[3] RL Equivalent: .308 Winchester

"Nervous Lord General?" Tobias asked as the plane made its way to Neuanfang International.

Laurids Hummel nodded.
"Essalanea is a wild place, Your Majesty" the recently Knighted Lord General of the Knights of the Storm replied, looking out of the window.

"Is Prydania that much less wild? I mean was it? The Civil War turned a lot of it into a war zone. We both managed to survive that" the King said, smiling.

"You could have taken a weekend at Skógurheorot, and hunted wolves there, Your Majesty."

"Lord General?"

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"You can just call me Tobias. When we're alone...if you'd like."

"Well Tobias..." Hummel replied, "I'd be happy to if you promise to do one thing for me."

Tobias nodded. He had an idea what it was. A lot of people had died to make him King, to make it so people had to refer to him as Your Majesty. Laurids Hummel was one of those people. He expected to hear him ask to keep up the formalities in public, which Tobias was already eager to do.

"Call me Laurids" the Lord General smiled, "when we're alone."

"Heh" Tobias chuckled, a bit nervous but more surprised.
"I can manage that" he added.

"Still, Tobias?"

"Yes?"

"You could have hunted a wolf in Prydania if you wanted a pelt so badly. Why go to Essalanea?"

Tobias bit his lower lip for a moment, a habit of his when he was nervous. There were practical reasons for it, ones he was happy to share to anyone who asked. There were also other reasons. Personal reasons. For as much as he could legitimately say the exercise will help with Prydanian-Essalanean relations? As much as he could say it would help inter-Luscova Pact dialogue? And as much as the steppes offered him a challenge? The fact was that the Essalaneans felt something of a fealty to Alycia as Queen of Norsia. And he was marrying her. Part of him, as much as he would never admit it, wanted to prove to these Essalaneans that he was, indeed, worthy of Alycia's hand in marriage.

"We're in an alliance with the Essalaneans, Laurids. I could shoot a wolf in Prydania, but if I hunt one in Essalanea I'll be able to build bridges" he said with a soft smile.
"Besides, I know the forests of the Austurlands like the back of my hand at this point. Essalanea provides a bit of a challenge."

"Too much for Rylond Jórvík?" Laurids asked curiously, prompting the King to chuckle.

"Get Rylond to Essalanea? I love the guy, I really do but I don't need to hear him whining about how boring hunting is. If I could even pry him away from the E-Series for a few days anyway. Besides, I don't need you guys stressing out..." Tobias looked out the window as the plan began to descend.
"...running after him hitting on every girl he comes across and also trying to keep me safe."

"We'd probably just let him fend for himself if he made a habit of getting out of our line of sight" Laurids chuckled, though a bit nervously. Rylond Jórvík was the son of both a Thane and a war hero. And a personal friend of the King. He thought he had a handle on Tobias enough to know he could make a joke like that, but he wasn't entirely sure. Thankfully his tension was relieved when he smirked.

"Rylond finding himself at the mercy of Essalanean women? Makes me wish I'd made more of an effort to get him to come."

---

The plane landed, the cabin lit by the sun of the Essalanean countryside. Tobias grabbed his pack and his rifle case. He was dressed rather informally. Just khaki cotton pants and a white cotton shirt and a pair of boots. He saw no need to dress up for the occasion. The Knights of the Storm, however, wore their striking navy uniforms trimmed in stark white, their cross emblem emblazoned on the left shoulder.

The door opened and Laurids led two other Knights of the Storm out. It was bright, but the wind blowing across the runway kept it reasonably cool.

"It's clear Your Majesty" Laurids called up as they noticed their hosts a bit in the distance.
Tobias emerged shortly thereafter, his rifle case flung over his shoulder.

"Let's get to it gents" he replied happily, leading the way over the Essalanean delegation.

At the arriving delegations approach the honour guard marched into position and formed two lines creating a corridor of saluting warriors. Both lines had two rows, in the front, the Ehrengarde stood in the traditional cloaks and fur caps of the clans with their swords raised in salute, behind them stood the soldiers of the modern clan army their Norsian style blue uniforms and silver helms striking in the morning light. The symbolism could not have been clearer, tradition and modernity united for the betterment of the clans.

Gaiseric stepped down from the jeep, Alric following closely, he straightened his cloak and signalled with a raised hand for the banners of each nation to be raised, three bondsmen bearing the standards of Sil Dorsett, Essalanea and Prydania stood to attention, their flags flowing gently in the morning air.

'Do you see the rifle she's carrying?! must be a Sprekker! she has good taste ill give her that' Alric said in an excitable tone as he saw Madeline approach

'Its the one in the case that will do the most talking' Gaiseric said noting that she carried another weapon as he watched the Dorsettian PM approach

Gaiseric had always been adept at reading people, a life spent on the Cimmerian border had necessitated the ability to read the often veiled intentions of foreign traders, to a trained eye Madeline was making some very clear statements. She carried her own bags and weapons, she dressed plainly and her body language betrayed no arrogance or pretension, she moved like a young clanswoman about to undertake the trials of passage, purposeful but cautious.

'Good' Gaiseric thought approvingly, she had come with the right mindset

The Prydanian delegation was no less curious, in particular, Gaiseric noted that the king was dressed more like a hunter than a monarch, his simple clothing made for a curious contrast with the stark formality of his bodyguard.

'They look like they mean business' Alric said as the King approached, the guards moved in perfect time with their royal charge

Gaiseric knew a little of the recent history of Prydania, there had been a war against a tribe of fanatics called 'Syndicalists' and the king had won, that victory had been gained through the support of countless loyal bondsmen. These knights were veterans, they might have been dressed for a parade, but he knew battle-hardened men when he saw them. Gaiseric approved, the steppe was no place for the untested.

'The knights of the storm' Gaiseric said in reply

'They move like soldiers should, Didn't they fight that Manzerkalist clan a few years back?' Alric asked as they watched the foreigners approach with guarded fascination

'Syndicalist brother, Manzerkalists belong to those Astragonese Fops in Iteria' Gaiseric said with a wicked grin, both men chuckled mischievously

Finally, the Delegations stood in front of them, Madeline and Tobias exchanged greetings as Gaiseric stepped forward. He raised a fist and his honour guard saluted the delegates in one practised motion before standing at ease. Alric stood next to him, he was holding a fur bundle containing gifts for the guests, Gaiseric hoped Alric hadn't dirtied it with skewer grease.

'Your Majesty! Your Excellency! I trust your flight was a pleasant one, I am honoured that you would accept my invitation to join us on the steppe, while you are here in our lands you shall be as our own kin, together we shall hunt the wolf, drink to friendship and cement ties stronger even then blood!' Gaiseric said his voice Ebullient as he addressed his guests

Gaiseric inclined his head and Alric stepped forward fur bundle in hand, he opened it and revealed two long knives in glittering sheathes within. The first was a golden sheathed blade whose hilt was fashioned into the form of deer antlers, the scabbard was lined with engraved runes with staggeringly expensive mother of pearl inlay, where the Kimbri had sourced such a precious item from they would not say. The Antlered blade bore a stylised image of a wolf and stag upon its pommel, this blade was intended for Tobias.

'Tobias of house Lothbrok, King of Prydania, I welcome you with the gift of a sheathed blade, may this weapon never be raised in anger against you' he said solemnly as a knight stepped forward to take the knife with both hands from Alric

The second blade was of a different style, more subtle but no less of a masterwork, the blade sat in a scarlet leather scabbard which was overlaid with silver vines, at its centre a ruby shaped to resemble the Dorsettian rose had been fitted and was flanked by two unicorns in the style of the principalities arms. with these decorations alone the blade would have been a priceless work of art but there was another, more subtle, detail, the pommel was shaped in the form of a bird and no ordinary creature at that.

An Essalanean seeker bird stood at the top of the blade with its wings outstretched as though it was ready to take flight. The Seeker bird was an ancient symbol representing the search for growth and change, its flights west in search of food and mates held spiritual significance for the clans, this blade had clearly been intended for Madeline rather than as a gift to the princesses.

'Madeline of Sil Dorsett, I welcome you with the gift of a sheathed blade, may this weapon never be raised in anger against you' Gaiseric said, Alric held out the beautiful weapon and Madeline took it in both hands.

The full honors on display caught Madeline-off guard once she had squared away her equipment and took notice of it. It wasn't on her list of things to expect when landing in Clan territory, let alone for a hunting trip. But, she took it in stride, maintaining her stoic composure as she met with Gaiseric and his people.

The first introduction by Gaiseric proved promising, and she was pleased that she was being welcomed as an equal. It was what she hoped for, and was happy that her expectations became reality. Amid the pleasantries, she quickly glanced over at Tobias, wondering for a second if he would be ready for the trial ahead, before realizing that he was probably more prepared than her, having survived a war that was meant to kill him.

The presentation of the blade nearly broke the Prime Minister. While the decorations of the scabbard weren't an exact coat of arms, it might have well have been, given its intricacy and craftsmanship. The hilt of the blade, though, with the Seeker bird, nearly brought her to tears. In the weeks that preceded her arrival, and with the help of the foreign ministry, much research was done into Essalanean culture. From that research, the Seeker bird stuck out in her mind. She recognized the symbolism and matched it with her own motherly traits. A mother of four, she knew this gift was hers, and not that of the two princesses, both mothers of none.

Maintaining her composure, she accepted the blade in her hands, curtsied, and addressed Gaiseric. "You honor me," she said to Gaiseric and his delegation, "and I hope to honor you and the clans of your nation by proving myself in the wilderness. Let us have a glorious hunt!"

She then turned towards Tobias, acknowledging him and making her intentions clear. "Your Majesty, over the course of this trip, you'll see a side of me you've never seen before. I hope you're not surprised by it."

Tobias smiled seeing the Essalanean honour guard, with their Norsian-esque uniforms. He was happy to see Alycia's efforts regarding Essalanea pay off. It also spoke well of Gaiseric. You can lead a horse to water, the saying went. And like a horse who knew how to drink? Gaiseric seemed to know what to do with the resources he'd been given in his quest to modernize the steppes. It was a true partnership between Norsia and Essalanea, and Gaiseric was seeing to it that Essalanea did its part. Tobias could relate, with Prydania being on the receiving end of not insubstantial aid packages.

He'd only met Gaiseric a few times. Once at the Luscovo Pact's founding. The other in Syrixia during the Two Thousand Years celebration. Still, he felt good about him. A man who was in a precarious position but who seemed to find his balance within the chaotic world of clan politics. And he seemed friendly enough!

He noticed Prime Minister Madeline Ellison as he approached the Essalanean delegation. Her weaponry caught him by surprise! He knew she had hunted recreationally, and of course the survivalist culture of her home region in the Principality was well-known enough in Prydania. Still...those guns! He chuckled a bit to himself and instinctively clutched the strap of his rifle case flung over his shoulder. His SV-Íþróttamaður L/42 .30-.30 was trusty, but the lever-action didn't seem to stand up to PM Ellison's arsenal.

"Everything ok Your Majesty?" Laurids asked, keeping up formality now that they were in public.

"Yes, Lord General" the King replied with a slight smile.
"If you get the chance though? Ask Prime Minister Ellison about that arsenal. I'd think I'd feel safer if we had a few of those around."

"Of course Your Majesty" Laurids replied with a chuckle.
Shortly thereafter they and Madeline converged, approaching the Essalanean delegation.

"Gaiseric" Tobias replied, amazed and nearly speechless for a moment as he studied the knife's hilt and scabbard.
"I cannot thank you enough for this gift."
The antler hilt was beautifully crafted, but it was the runes along the scabbard that caught his attention. The pearl inlay, and what he recognized as old Andrensk runes. The same sort that adorned his coronation robes and dotted the marble and wood of his throne room. He wasn't expecting anything that...nice!
"Thank you again," he replied. "I'm looking forward to a good hunt, and better food amongst friends!" he added.

He looked over Madeline again now that they were closer and he could get a better view of her. He'd read up on Silean survivalist culture in the western Principality as part of the preparation for the meeting that birthed the trade deal that existed between their countries. As someone who himself had to often live off the land growing up? It was fascinating stuff to read about. Still...he had developed the idea that most politicians or leaders from nations didn't really engage in that sort of activity. Madeline's presence- and her apparent level of preparedness- challenged that notion directly.

Your Majesty, over the course of this trip, you'll see a side of me you've never seen before. I hope you're not surprised by it she had said to him. He grinned in response.

"Surprises can be enlightening, Madam Prime Minister" he replied. "And not always bad. The steppes should be pretty intense for all of us, I think."

Gaiseric surveyed the assembled with a trained eye, the mood of the delegations was one of excitement and anticipation in equal measure, the air had an electric quality about it. In near two millennia, precious few foreigners were afforded safe passage upon the step, and the occasions where an unhorsed had been granted the right to hunt wolves was a rarer figure still, and yet here they were, two foreign leaders, bearing the blessed blade and standing as embraced kin of the clans.

There was a whiff of destiny about this moment Gaiseric decided, he could feel the guiding hand of Ziu in this occasion and he knew then that opening the steppe had indeed been the will of his god. breathing in deeply he spoke with practiced joviality.

'Well, friends enough ceremony for one day, onward to Neuanfang! we shall feast in my ancestor's hall tonight' he said raising his hands for dramatic effect

The Journey from the airport to Neuanfang would once have been long and beset by bumps and dust, now the concrete motorway that had been built by Norsian troops ensured it was a smooth thirty minutes drive. Gaiseric drove down the long snaking road, the chill breeze flowing through the open-topped vehicle

'Well, that went well!' Alric said yelling over the wind

'Hmmm, that's just the beginning, we still have a feast to get through' Gaiseric replied never taking his eyes off the road

Alric smirked 'Anegrette's pessimism is rubbing off on you brother, they loved the gifts, a bit of ale and smoked meat and they will be right at home!' Alric said as he lounged in the back seat with his botts resting on the door

'Let's hope they aren't vegetarian' Gaiseric said before pressing down on the accelerator

Behind them a convoy followed, trucks filled with soldiers and a full squadron of Ehrengarde mounted on iron horses, the guest's vehicles were in the center of the convoy, an intentional gesture to show that the clans would protect their visitors. Gaiseric led from the front in the jeep and he was the first to see Neuanfang begin to emerge from the hill strewn horizon.

The great walls of the city were bathed in the golden hue of a sunset, the tall towers seemed to glow like spear points in the evening light. they entered the city via the main gate, it had only recently been replaced, the old one having been destroyed during the Karg siege some two years prior. They passed the vast iron doors the shadows of vehicles dancing across the carvings of wolves and horses that flowed across them.

Neuanfang was an old city by Essalanean standards, founded one hundred years ago it was home to over 300,000 people. The city was a vast sea of stone dwellings and narrow streets, at face value it mirrored a medieval town similar to countless others in Eras, more careful inspection revealed hints of modernity springing up everywhere. The insides of houses were lit by the glow of bulbs, streetlamps dotted the long cobblestone processionals and music, announcements and static all blared from the speakers that seemed to be present at every major intersection.

The city bustled with life, communal meal halls packed and spilled out onto the street, traders from Cimmeria hawked their wares from shop windows and stalls and everywhere the steady march of shift workers going to or from their assigned tasks in disciplined packs of men and women. The city had clearly been wounded however, bullet holes and burn marks scarred countless buildings and scaffolding seemed to indicate rebuilding rather than expansion.

Bondsmen watched with curiosity and suspicion as the convoy passed, citizens looked up from their arm wrestling and tankards to watch the strangers pass, children ran after the trucks begging the clan soldiers within for sweets, the men obliging by tossing Norsian and Predicean confections onto the streets.

Finally, the convoy came to an open square, flower gardens surrounded a single mounted statue, that of a warlord bearing a winged helm and pointing a sword southwards, Essalan, the demi-god and culture hero of the steppe watched over his people even now nearly two millennia after his death. Behind the statue their destination beckoned, the hall of Valk sat upon a tall hill from which it surveyed the rest of Neuanfang, encircled by a second ring of stone the hall was a fortress within a larger city.

The gates opened to allow the convoy to enter, once inside the occupants began to disembark, the hall of Valk towered over the people below, wolves and horses similar to the ones adorning the gate danced and fought along the length of its wooden rafters, the hall had been made at great expense from the most precious resource on the steppe, timber. The doorway was shaped like the maw of a great wolf, opening and ready to swallow all who drew close enough.

The great hall of Valk was at face value yet another testament to the enduring backwardness of the clans, it certainly had all the hallmarks of a tribal meeting hall at first glance, shields and weapons were mounted upon walls covered in ancient carvings and benches were draped in furs to keep the seated warm.

A closer inspection, however, revealed the fallacy of that initial assumption, the weapons on the walls were more often than not automatic rifles, alongside the carvings of horses and wolves were the unmistakable images of motorcycle and plane, if one were to study the furs draped on every seat the machined stitching upon their edges would be evident and all of this was lit by the illumination of electric lights.

A strange synthesis of ancient and modern was occurring in the clan realms and as night darkened the steppe the guests were given a full display of clan hospitality. Gaiseric had afforded his guests the traditional honor of being seated with their backs to the wall, a traditional gesture meant to prevent surprise assassination, the high chief and his guests sat upon a raised table that observed the entire hall.

The table was like a tranquil island amidst wild seas, below a raucous celebration unfolded, bards filled the feast hall with fierce melodies as they strummed four strings and pounded drums. Around the bard's countless men and women danced in wild abandon their forms twisting and leaping, it appeared more like a display of physical strength than a form of recreational amusement.

In the center of the hall a vast oaken table heaved with countless trays of meat, cheese, bread and fruit and huge kegs of ale were constantly being brought out, as soon as one was drained another would emerge from to take its place. A goat roasted on a spit nearby, bondsmen casually hacked pieces of it off with long knives.

There seemed to be little of the hierarchy so often seen in the rest of Eras, bondsmen of all sexes, age and occupation mingled freely and children weaved through the crowds of adults with unsupervised glee. occasionally the revels would be interrupted by a drunken dispute, in such instances, a crowd would encircle both individuals and cheer as they fought barehanded, once they had finished the circle would disperse as though nothing had happened.

Gaiseric regarded the entire hall impassively, he was a son of the clans and such events held little surprise for him, his guests however would likely be seeing clan culture for the first time and that made him curious.

'what do they think of us? are we the noble savages of their romanticized tales or the demonic raiders of cautionary ones? hmmm.... maybe neither...maybe both' he wondered his hand resting on his chin

His contemplation was interrupted as a large shadow slinked under the table, he caught a brief flicker of fur as he looked down in time to see his tamed wolf accost the king of Prydania, Egica sniffed at Tobias's knees and attempted to gain scraps from his plate with puppy-like eyes that seemed wholly out of place on such a large animal.

'Egica' Gaiseric said locking eyes with the wolf, his tone suggested this was not an isolated event

The wolf came to heel at the sound of his master's voice before leaping off comically after the lamb bone Gaiseric hurled in his direction.

"My apologies, wolves are sacred here your majesty....though I'm starting to think they know it too," he said as the Wolf gnawed contentedly on the lamb bone

The Volkmann revered wolves as their sacred totem animal tamed packs were common in their halls, but the sight of a vast predator weaving between the legs of his guests did not bode well if Gaiseric intended to introduce his guests to the clan ways in a gentle fashion. On his left, Madeline was busy discussing firearms with his brother Alric

'Is that a Sprekker!? beautiful weapons, I use a type 44 myself...' Alric chatted away like an excitable child

'At least we all have that in common' Gaiseric thought, grinning in amusement at the idea of guns bringing them all together

He reached for his wine glass and took a long swig if nothing else this night would not be dull.

The sights and sounds of the hall had hit Tobias like a wave, but he'd found himself relaxing once the initial sensations had faded. He'd grown up around soldiers after all, rowdiness didn't phase him so much. That the food and drink was good helped too! The ale was more bitter than either mead or beer back home, but it had more kick than the Syrixian stuff. And the meat was some of the best he'd ever had!
Really though, the whole hall reminded him of Oktoberfest. The Gotic festival was of great importance in Prydania. He'd lead two from the temporary halls erected in the capital since becoming King. Essalanea and Prydania diverged paths a long time ago, but it wasn't hard to see the common strands of culture that bound them in this clan hall.
His relaxation was interrupted slightly by the wolf. He gasped in shock for a moment a smirk grew across his face. Wolf or not? It was hard to be terrified at the face of a canine begging for food.

My apologies, wolves are sacred here your majesty....though I'm starting to think they know it too Gaiseric remarked as he tossed the bone for the wolf to chase after.

"I spent a lot of time in the Skóglendi as a child" he replied, referring to the heavily forested eastern and central regions of Prydania.
"You get used to wolves" he added with a chuckle. "What about you, Lord General?" he asked Laurids.

The Lord General just shook his head with a chuckle.
"I'm sorry Your Majesty, I'm afraid not. I spent most of the War in the Midlands. More farms than forests. Or steppes."
He looked around the hall himself. He saw a few of his Knights talking to, or even flirting with, Essalanean locals. He wasn't upset- he'd allowed them the night to revel. He was, in fact, just a bit envious. Still, someone had to ensure the King's safety. And since he was the highest rank? That feel to him. Still, he couldn't shake the sense that Essalaneans were watching him. He didn't expect his sort to be a common sight, even with Norsians being a regular fixture around these parts these days. A Royal guard was something different. He wondered how many were sizing him up?

Tobias drank a bit more ale.
"I've never seen a wolf that tame though" he remarked to Gaiseric.
"Was it born tame or was it domesticated?"

Everything that was happening reminded Madeline of even-younger years with her trips to local fantasy faires and her live-action roleplaying groups from university. The traditional music and the dancing put a smile on her face as she was entertained and provided the opportunity to reminisce on the fun times before responsibility caught up with her.

While clansmen squared off in intoxication-induced combat, she even considered starting something at random herself. But, she thought better of it, not wanting to stain her reputation or that of her government. She'd settle for taking mental bets on who would win each round and cheering for her favored fighter.

The feast itself was more glorious than any pretentious show the princely family or the families of the nobility ever put on. No longer did she have to worry about whether the flavor profiles of each dish were in perfect synchronization; she only needed to worry about not putting back on the weight she was trying to lose after giving birth to Melissa, her fourth.

Alric seemed especially enthusiastic about discussing Madeline's weaponry after seeing it on the tarmac. Madeline knew that she had accomplished one of her goals already, letting the clans know of her seriousness. But, it wasn't the .50 Berenice that had Alric's attention; it was the .308 Sprekker, which was quite a surprise to her. Perhaps it was because she never actually revealed the weapon, she thought. Regardless, it made for good conversation, both as small talk but also being as informative as possible.

"It is!" she exclaimed to Alric. "The Andrennians do make quality weapons, and a lot of people in the militias swear by them. I brought two different ammo loads with me, a normal 147-grain supersonic, commercially bought, and a 225-grain subsonic hand-loaded by yours truly. Combine that with my suppressor, and you'll be amazed how quiet the 225-grain is."

The discussion went on for quite a while with Madeline looking to impress and gain the favor of clans, boasting about all she learned in her formative years and testifying to the survivalist program the Sil Dorsettian government endorsed.

"Was it born tame or was it domesticated?" Tobias asked

Gaiseric paused for a moment, scratching his chin in thought, the memories flooded his mind with images as he answered

'When I was a boy we suffered a particularly brutal winter, birds froze and fell from the sky and those who could not find shelter at night were found like statues in the dawn' Gaiseric could almost feel the chill of that winter as he spoke

He pointed to Egica who lolled around the floor with his bone, the wolfs ears perked up slightly as he realized his master was looking at him

'Worse than the cold, however' Gaiseric said eyes still locked on the lounging canine 'Were the wolves, they hounded our herds and even started to kill unsuspecting bondsmen, I think they were suffering as much as we were' Gaiseric said grimly, he could still see the gory patches of red staining the formerly pristine white snows

He took a sip of wine from his cup and stared into the ruby depths of his cup before continuing 'Eventually the attacks grew too frequent to ignore, my father Hunneric took a hunting party to the wildlands to cull the feral packs' Gaiseric said now deep in memory

He could still remember the Stoney faced men leaving to hunt, furs wrapped tight around shivering bodies and hands gripping spears, rifles and nets as they left Neuanfang for the Arrandi border. They had looked like men condemned, many of them did not return. The wildlands that bordered the mountains of Arrandal were like that, the clans avoided them fearful of the beasts that called it their home, the cull was an act of desperation on their part.

'My father lost a dozen men on that hunt, frostbite and the wolves themselves took their toll, but he returned later bearing enough skins to clothe an entire company and a set of wolf cubs' Gaiseric said letting the last sentence trail off

He remembered the day of his fathers return well, Hunneric had ridden through the gates of Neuanfang and been greeted with cheers and roars of approval, the furs he claimed had saved countless bondsmen from the cold and the reprieve from wolf attacks had kept their herds alive and able to continue feeding the clan.

'My father shot Egica's monstrous she-wolf of an ancestor, but thought it a cruel and ignoble thing to harm pups and so he scooped them up and brought them back to be raised amongst us, that oversized mischief-maker there, he is the result' Gaiseric said with a grin, Egica barked as if to answer his masters attention, the High Chief threw the wolf another scrap in response.

************************************************************
'Is that a Sprekker!? beautiful weapons, I use a type 44 myself...' Alric said chatting away like an excitable child

"It is!" she exclaimed to Alric. "The Andrennians do make quality weapons, and a lot of people in the militias swear by them. I brought two different ammo loads with me, a normal 147-grain supersonic, commercially bought, and a 225-grain subsonic hand-loaded by yours truly. Combine that with my suppressor, and you'll be amazed how quiet the 225-grain is."

Alric thought about that for a moment before nodding approvingly 'Silence is an often underappreciated quality in a firearm here on the steppe' he said excitement replaced by a more considered tone

It was an irksome cultural quirk that the clans had never really been able to shake, most clans liked guns that packed a punch, automatic rifles were prized both for they're rapid-fire and for the satisfying shriek they made as they tore through anything in their path. Alric was a rare breed, a warrior who killed in shadow and preferably silence.

'Most of my kinsfolk prefer the noise of open battle, our culture is unsubtle in that regard, my position as my brother's problem solver though...makes me more appreciative of a quiet kill' he said respectfully

He liked this Madeline of Sil Dorsett, she was not the pampered princess he had feared she would be and she seemed to be comfortable amongst the children of Essalan, honestly, it surprised him how much she seemed to be enjoying the feast. Most unhorsed had one of two reactions to the clans, horror or pity, they either seemed horrified by what they did not understand or piteous of what they looked down upon, this Madeline, however, had a refreshing lack of pretension.

'that said' he began after a pause 'The kimbri are more...appreciative... of modern subtleties, pity ana isn't here, she knows guns better then I do!' he said with an amused grin

Anegrette would indeed have liked Madeline he thought, she was driven, self-sufficient and honest, all qualities the queen with a thousand eyes appreciated. Alric began to wonder who this stranger really was, he took a sip of ale and thought about it, she seemed less and less like an unhorsed the more he spoke with her. This hunt was going to be an eventful one.

Tobias smiled at the wolf and chuckled as he sipped his beer.
"Most winters in Prydania are brutal. The snow falls at first, powdery and easy to walk through, but once the true cold comes and the days are as short as a few hours? The snow gets hard. Packed in tight. And the wind..." he shivered just thinking of it.

"You really get to know how to respect the winter, natural in general really, when you live in it. You learn very quickly it can kill you if you're not careful" he chuckled, as he recounted his time living in the more forested areas of Prydania for most of his life, until his early 20s when the war was in such a state as to make him leaving the FNU-controlled forests a safe bet.

"It's why Essalanea fascinates me actually, beyond my fiance's interest anyway" he added with a smile.
"People can use the term 'modernization if they want, but we blew our country up. And now we need to rebuild, like you're doing. And I want Prydania to focus on what it has, what it can be proud of. We're a rural country, and I think that means we have a lot in common, and a lot we can learn from you" he said as he leaned back comfortably in his chair.

Hummel chuckled.
"His Majesty also wants a challenge" he added, leaning closer to Gaiseric.
"Hunt something on land he doesn't know inside and out."

"It's true" Tobias added with a smile as he drank more beer."
"Our people, we used to venerate the Andrennian god of the hunt, before Messianism came and Vort...no...no, it was Sigegar..."

"Kaldor, Your Majesty, Lord Kaldor Loðbrók" Hummel replied.

"Yes, that's it. Kaldor was the one who converted. Along with Absalon with the Bayardi!" Tobias exclaimed.
"Regardless, before him we venerated the hunting god Jägdar. It's been something that's been a part of us all, for generations. And Alycia, well she's introduced me to the Norsian faith. It's made me think more about the gods of our own ancestors. And how there's still value in old traditions."

He took another sip of beer, smiling as he watched the dancing and fighting play out before him.

When the king had finished speaking the two men sat in companionable silence as Tobias watched the dancing and brawling in the floor below and Gaiseric ruminated upon what he had just heard. It was an entertaining feast even by normal clan standards, the dancing had become increasingly more vibrant and physical as men and women leaped and twisted to increasingly wild tunes from the bards four strings.

The fights too had become rhythmic duels of fists and amused shouts as crowds formed the traditional chanting circle. Outsiders often called such social mores barbaric, they failed to understand the purpose of such activities, men and women fought these duels in order to air grievances and vent them before they became feuds. Fighters would brawl fiercely only to emerge laughing and patting one another on the back, the cause forgotten and order restored.

The dancing too was a form of social theatre, the physicality of steppe dancing was purposeful, many a famous clan pairing had found its genesis in the raw athleticism of the leaping throngs of dancers. Tobias surprised Gaiseric, not only did the Prydanian king watch, he did so with a smile rather than the usual looks of horror and disgust that flowed across foreign faces.

Gaiseric thought about the king's story, his life within rebel-held forests, his respect for the dangers posed by winters icy reign. The King struck Gaiseric as being utterly different from the usual pretentious royalty that the high chief had encountered, most unhorsed grew up spoilt by their soft lives, they had no appreciation for the clothes on their backs, the food in their bellies or the land and people that provided both. Tobias though had lived in scarcity before becoming king, and it reflected well, he carried himself with a nobility that seemed to stem from his character rather then any title.

'Here is a man that understands' Gaiseric thought grinning as he took a sip of wine

'It may surprise your majesty to know that we consider the steppe a paradise, not because it is an easy land but because of the hardship and scarcity of this place. Such things shape a person into something stronger and endow them with an appreciation for what truly matters in life' Gaiseric said breaking the silence that had descended upon the table

He motioned with his hand to the revels in the hall below 'Just like you I seek to preserve the soul of my culture without languishing in the past, modernity, as you say, is about more than roads and shining towers, it is the struggle to reconcile one's self with a changing world, perhaps this is why the pact is so important, because our struggles are cut from the same cloth' Gaiseric said with passion in his voice

He looked down into the wild sea of feasting bondsmen they were alive, free and spirited and they were loving every moment of this occasion, to dine with a king and a head of state was one thing, to hunt with them was a step further still, the air was electric as though everyone could sense the momentous nature of the times they now lived in, change was indeed here upon the steppe.

'I cannot speak for your Jägdar, but if he wishes for you to hunt, then I can offer you the most challenging place on earth to seek your quarry' Gaiseric said respectfully

Tobias laughed.
"Jägdar..." he repeated softly before taking a sip of beer. He wasn't going to tell a foreign dignitary that he thought he'd actually spoken to Jägdar. He still didn't know how to make sense of that experience. Still...a hunting god ran in his people's past.
"Jägdar was a very respected god in my people's distant homeland of Andrenne. Our ancestors, before we fled to what is now Prydania, revered him above all else. The hunt provides. More than just food or skins or furs though. Hunting has long been a right of passage for my people. And so" he raised his mug of beer.
"If the steppe is the most challenging place to hunt? I'm excited! What good is a hunting god if he doesn't prepare you for the worst challenge, eh?" he asked as he sipped more beer.

He felt relaxed. This was diplomacy. He didn't have to wear a stiff military uniform or rehearse protocol or have himself grilled on every facet of what was or wasn't acceptable. The War had been hard, but the atmosphere in the hall reminded him of some of the better times. When he'd watch, as a child, soldiers and spies trade stories at FNU encampments. Hell, the fights he saw in Essalanea before him didn't even phase him. Back in the day? It wouldn't be uncommon for a drunken soldier to get into a spat with another necessitating a more level headed party to break them up. Or even a friendly rivalry settled with a round of arm wrestling. Or five.
What he saw here wasn't that distant from that. He almost wished William was here. Or maybe not. William had led the FNU for fifteen years. If he was tired of soldiers competing against each other at this point? He was perhaps served a break. Still, it brought Tobias back to some pleasant memories.

"Tall buildings" he chuckled to Gaiseric.
"You know from the 1960s until just after the war the tallest building in Prydania was a hospital. Outside of the capital of Býkonsviði in a town called Rytagnupr. It survived the war and it's only 120 meters. It doesn't even qualify as a skyscraper! Yyou don't need to build upwards. I'm very proud that Býkonsviði's skyline isn't a monstrosity of metal shards. You can see the city as it existed for hundreds of years, growing as it always has. So don't let anyone tell you what the cost of progress is. Progress and tradition can be retained if everyone cares enough."
Tobias chuckled. He didn't think he'd get a chance to wax poetically about his architectural interests on this trip, but here he was.

"Regardless, I'm looking forward to being tested by the wolves on your steppe. It's always an invigorating feeling when man and beast test wits."

Alric's description of Essalanea combat preferences was enlightening to the minister, and was a difference to discuss. While the clans seemed to embrace the no-holds barred way of battle, the Sil Dorsettians were much more limited in what they were even allowed to do.

"You might actually tolerate Sil Dorsett's firearm limitations, but it seems like most clansmen probably wouldn't. I'm not even allowed to own a machine gun," Madeline explained. "Only active duty military can. The militias are stuck with semi-automatics. Part of the reason why we have to be good marksmen. We can't just lob a ton of lead down range real fast and hope something hits. We make every shot count."

Anegrette seemed interesting to Madeline. She had read the reports and the stories of the Kimbri Chieftain, and everything about her and her clan resonated with the minister. Alric talking up Anegrette's credentials made some sort of encounter with her even more enticing.

"I hope I get a chance to meet up with Anegrette at some point. With the way you're talking about her, I have a feeling there's a lot I could learn from her."

Madeline looked over at Alric's mug as he took his sip of ale. A bit tipsy already and wanting to show off, she took her own mug, downed the whole thing, and motioned to have it refilled. Not expecting another child had some advantages.

"Regardless, I'm looking forward to being tested by the wolves on your steppe. It's always an invigorating feeling when man and beast test wits."

Gaiseric remembered well his own first encounter with the wolves, the first time he laid eyes upon a hulking mass of fur, muscle, fang and bloodied claws. He had been 12, his father at his side, staring down the scope of a hunting rifle, the beast was distracted as it gorged itself upon the baited lamb they had left for it.

'Control your breathing' Hunneric had said slowly as they had hidden in the darkness

The snarling and gnawing of teeth upon bone was unnerving, and the beasts once golden fur was now coated in a smear of scarlet gore. He had breathed in, hands shaking as he tried to steady his aim.

'Steady, hold your breath and release it when you are ready to fire' Hunneric had said his voice calm and encouraging

Gaiseric had breathed in, stared into the beasts golden eyes, there was a terrible majesty to these beasts, at that moment Gaiseric knew why they had been chosen as the clan's totem. He had held his breath for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for the beast to present its entire face, and then the moment had come.

A gentle release of breath, a squeeze on the trigger, a loud bang and then silence 'Perfect!' Hunneric had said as the wolves body hit the ground

That wolf had been skinned and its hide fashioned into the cloak that Gaiseric now wore, a reminder that he had faced the northern steppes fiercest beast and lived. He grinned at Tobias's use of the word 'Test' the king clearly understood the purpose of the hunt.

'You understand' Gaiseric said in an approving tone 'We consider the wolf the guardian of adulthood and maturity, it is a fierce and intelligent beast and a fitting challenge for one who aspires to be more fierce and intelligent still, I can tell you this Tobias of Lothbrok, this beast will not disappoint' He said with a knowing smile

He sipped his wine and paused, below the music had taken on a slow and rhythmic tone, soon the first shift of bondsman would go back to their homes to sleep, in their place another crowd of revellers would arrive from work and commence the next bout of festivities, this celebration would likely account for more than a few hangovers.

'Tomorrow we journey into the Wildlands, but before we do any hunting it is a tradition to honour the ancestors with an offering, it is a good tradition, it teaches respect for the past and gratitude for the present' Gaiseric said as his wine glass was refilled

He liked this style of diplomacy, no airs and graces, just individuals speaking honestly. it reminded him of the stories of the old clans, of those long dead moots in which a nation had been drawn up, Essalan too had favoured plain speech, perhaps these outsiders were more kin then not?

*****************************************************************************

Alric thought about what Madeline had just told him and nodded approvingly 'Honestly your nation is probably wise to stick with rifles, better accuracy...and fewer incidents with Shepards filling valleys with gunfire' Alric replied with a sigh

The clan's love of automatic weapons had all but ensured that even the most trivial feud could become a small scale war, too many disputes over grazing lands or cell reception ended in bloodbaths. The clan's endless factionalism had surged abetted as it was by cheap machine guns and free possession of armaments.

'Honestly, I sometimes wish we had gone the same route, even with modernity we kill one another in droves every year, my brother tries to change things but really feuding is ingrained in our peoples very soul' Alric said suddenly feeling rather grim

He tapped his fingers on the table, the party below was in a lull as the first phase of the night ended and the second began, soon the families who had worked earlier would have their chance to join the revels, that meant more drinking, more singing and more drunken brawls, this was shaping up to be a feast for the ages.

"I hope I get a chance to meet up with Anegrette at some point. With the way you're talking about her, I have a feeling there's a lot I could learn from her." Madeline said breaking the silence

'Ha, she's definitely educational!' Alric said with a knowing smirk ' The Queen of the Free Port is a law unto herself, if you can gain her trust you'll find no greater teacher among our people, just as well we are meeting her at the altar tomorrow!' Alric said downing his ale

He gulped down the last of his ale, noticing Madeline had already finished her cup and had it refilled, he grinned approvingly and did likewise. The Golden ale had now been replaced by the bitter black ales that were always served in the second phase of any great feast, the sharp bitter taste was pleasant to Alric's pallet.

'I just hope the red adder is in a good mood' He thought with a mixture of amusement and fear

Anegrette emerged into the chill morning savouring the pinprick of cold against her uncovered arms, it was a far cry from the warmer climates of her home in the west but she bore it with the same extreme stoicism that Kimbri were taught to regard all things with. She lit a cigarette and took a long drag before exhaling, the smoke danced like silk thread in the dawn air, she regarded her surroundings with an appraising eye.

The barrowlands of clan Volkmann were an oddity to Anegrette, a vast collection of mounds and standing stones that grew with each passing century. Each mound contained a great hero or a chieftain, some were as old as Essalanea itself, others were more recent, in the centre stood the largest. Valk's monument was enormous, a great mound that spread across the horizon, it was topped by a ring of standing stones that surrounded a stone altar, there was no more sacred a site for the Volkmann.

The Volkmann like many clans spent a huge amount of their time memorialising their dead, The Kimbri were less sentimental and cremation and the occasional sincere prayer were considered more than enough. Life in the urban sprawl of Kimbria had made the great clan more expedient and perhaps a little less prone to mysticism, they were still Essalanean but younger and more tied to modernity than their northern kin.

'Cold day to have no furs Kimbri' Helbrandt said regarding Anegrette's lack of warm attire

She wore a simple vest, khaki breeches and tall leather boots, her cloak and armour were waiting in the yurt, she liked to wake herself up by testing herself against the elements, it got the blood running early.

'I like to be awake before I gear up Karg' she said without turning to regard the chieftain

Helbrandt was as he always was, immensely tall and covered in furs and chainmail like some vast armoured beast. His wild red hair and spikey beard protruded like the spines of a hedgehog from his weatherbeaten face and his green eyes always had a slightly mad look about them.

'I hear Gaiseric is bringing a king and Madeline too!' Helbrandt said with a tone of barely contained excitement

'Try not to propose marriage straight away when you see her' Anegrette said sarcastically before grinning mischievously at Helbrandt

'Well obviously not, have to impress her with my kills first!' he said before stalking off red-faced, no doubt to prepare for her arrival

The Volkmann would come soon, bringing their guests with them, she knew the protocols of a hunt well, the Volkmann always made offerings to their great ancestors before journeying into the Wildlands to hunt the wolf. Anegrette was no stranger to stalking prey, but her quarry was usually human and her hunting ground typically more urban, all the same, the prospect of testing her senses in a different environment intrigued her.

Anegrette had been reluctant to join this unusual event at first, the constant demands of her own realm made such excursions a distraction from the business of ruling, but she knew that some of the most important figures on the continent had come to hunt on the steppe, and a Kimbri never missed an opportunity to gather information. In the distance a convoy drew close.

Laurids Hummel zipped up his fatigues baring a muted Knights of the Storm shoulder patch and a small Prydanian flag on the other side. The other Knights they'd brought with them would watch over the King's residence and belongings. He, however, would be with His Majesty out on the hunt. Both to provide protection and to, as Tobias had said, "get to know one and other."

He wasn't entirely settled into his new role. He'd been little more than a teenager when the Syndicalist killings in Jórvík convinced him to join up with the FNU. And he'd quickly grown into a soldier. He'd embraced it, really. And despite his responsibilities here? He found the King's own looseness to be hard to get a handle on. He knew he was never a solider, even if he did have some blood on his hands from the War. Still, he seemed rather informal whenever they were together in private.

"Have you hunted much?" Tobias asked as he finished with his own gear. Wearing muted green fatigues and boots, and a fatigue cap baring a muted FNU emblem of a stag's head in a diamond. It was an older cap. From before the end of the Civil War.

"No.." Hummel began, remembering to save the "Your Majesty's" for when appearances had to be upheld.
"Not really. Jórvík was kind of an overgrown farming town. Grew up in the city but worked as a farmhand every harvest. Until the Syndies started taking more and more of the yield and we...well I found myself in the FNU" he said with a soft smile.

Tobias nodded.
"We should hunt more, around Skógurheorot. It's a great way to get to know someone" he said as he flung his rifle over his shoulder. Hummel likewise picked up the backpack of supplies and his own rile, a far newer looking gun than the King's.

"I wouldn't mind that" Hummel replied with a sly smile, prompting the King to chuckle.

"I'm counting on you to keep me alive. We should at least be on a first-name basis."

---

The convoy with the Volkmann clan was uneventful, but Tobias none the less took in the scenery. He never left Prydania all through the war, but he'd seen his fair share of foreign locales since his coronation. The plains of Essalanea were something else though. Both familiar and yet...challenging. The thick forests of Prydania these were not.
He glanced over at Madeline. He knew about militia culture in Sil Dorsett, and the Prime Minister's role in it. Yet reading was one thing. He wondered what sort of hunter those skills would make someone. No matter. He'd find out soon enough.

A somewhat fragmented militia and paramilitary system in the principality meant some township units had better funding than others. Madeline belonged to a smaller one that didn't have the best in funding and relied heavily on surplus and dated materials from the standing army.

Preparing for the day's hunt at her lodging, she pulled out her battle dress uniform. It was a few years out of specification and intended more for woodland combat, but it was still better than her wearing a tank top and vest like an untrained poser. It had her ID patches on as well, "Ellison" on the right, "S.D. Militia" on the left with "Estournel" below it to indicate her specific unit, and a horizontally flipped olive drab version of the Sil Dorsettian flag on her right shoulder. On each side of the collar, the flaps had the three chevrons of a Sergeant. She gazed upon it for a minute and cracked a smile. It was humbling to think of herself as a Prime Minister busted back down to a comparatively lowly Sergeant, but it was all part of the idea of her thinking that it was "Time to get back to business," as she thought to herself out loud.

She packed the rest of her supplies in her MOLLE-compatible store-bought backpack, prepped a few magazines for her rifles and packed all her gear up, but there was one more important task to be done. She promised her husband that she'd call to check up on the family. Cell service wasn't great, but it was enough, so she made the call.

"Hi, dear! How are the children doing?" Madeline asked her husband.

"They're fine, for the most part," Madeline's husband, Will, informed her. "Charlotte misses you the most, and Melissa's been fussy, but Rachel and Heather have been behaving."

"That's good. Well, tell them I'm okay," Madeline told Will. "But, I wanted to let you know that I'm about to go out on our run, so I won't be available for a bit. I'm only going to expense the satellite phone calls if there's a real emergency."

"Yeah, I get it," Will affirmed. "You be careful out there. Love you..."

---

Though she would occasionally catch Tobias glancing at her through her peripheral vision, she tried to stay focused, sometimes looking out into the distance of the plains, but often staring at the blade that was gifted to her, looking down the edge in awe of the craftsmanship that went into it. She wasn't much for conversation this time, saving it for when they eventually arrived at their stop.

Tobias wondered what sort of combat the Silean PM had seen. She had rank emblems on her outfit, after all. True, Sil Dorsett hadn't been in a war she could have fought in to his memory, but still. The militias must have been doing something all of that time. He wondered what she'd seen? What she'd done? His own memories from the civil war came flooding back for a moment.

"Are you ok, Your Majesty?" Hummel asked, noticing the King's momentary far off look.

"Um, yeah...yes" Tobias replied with a smile as he donned a pare of sunglasses.
"God" he added..."the steppes don't end do they?" he asked. It was an amazing sight, to be sure. Prydania's terrain moved from mountains, to rolling fields and farms, to the thick forests of the Skógurland. Endless flatness wasn't something either Tobias or Laurids were used to seeing. It was almost like an endless green sea.

"No, but that's why they're accomplished horse riders, I imagine. I haven't seen a river since we got here" Hummel replied.
"They had to master the horse, or they'd never get anywhere. Imagine walking this."

"It's going to be interesting" Tobias said, looking off towards the horizon, where the green fields met the sky.
"No hills or trees...just open land. Us...and whatever we're hunting."

Hummel nodded, and worried. It was easy to use land to one's advantage, most of the time. To use rocks, trees, hills, and the like to protect yourself or someone else. But here...how was he supposed to protect his King? The party could be stalked by anything, on any side. And there wasn't much terrain to put between them and the danger. Tobias, however, seemed much less concerned, and more focused on the hunt.

"It'll take some adjustments, but I think I can adapt" Tobias remarked, thinking through the needed adjustments he'd need to make regarding his aim and strategy.

"I'm more worried about rogue animals coming from behind" Hummel replied. Tobias, however, just shrugged.

"It's called hunting, Lord General. If it were easier it would just be called killing" he said with a wink.

As the hunting party began to pile out of the trucks Gaiseric and Alric paused for a moment to stare at the mounds on the horizon. The steppe stretched across creation, an endless sea of flat scrubland only occasionally interrupted by the man-made hills that dotted the area in front of the camp. Gaiseric pulled out a hip flask of wine and took a long sip before passing it to Alric.

'Still gives me chills seeing it' He said gloomily

'I know, I feel the same way, we buried him on that hill over there...it never did feel right, lowering that casket of charred remains into the ground' Alric agreed with a hint of sorrow in his voice

The Volkmann mounds beckoned, they cast an eerie shadow on the land around them. They had stood for millennia, tombs to hold the bones of the virtuous and the mighty, a ritual ground steeped in the blood of untold sacrifices and sanctified by the ash stained prayers of generations of Volkmann. It was here that the sons of Valk would come to beseech the lord of the eternal steppe for fortune on the hunt, a request made in spilled blood and chanting lips.


'Perhaps it would be less ominous if you Volkmann didn't choose such melodramatic places to store your dead' An amused female voice chided

Anegrette Kimbri stood before them, her golden hair tied in huntress braids and her lithe form sheathed in a covering of mail, leather and furs, the pirate queen of the Phoenix sea had come to hunt something other than humans. Gaiseric gave her a knowing smile, the sort of distant longing look that secret lovers give when they cannot show their love openly.

'We are not as pragmatic as your Kimbri Ana, we Volkmann are a moody bunch at the best of times' Gaiseric said after a long pause

She smiled ' moody or not it will be good to put you northerners through the paces' she said teasingly

Gaiseric and Anegrette gazed at each other in silence for what seemed like a long time, he opened his mouth to say something only to be interrupted.

Alric attempted to take a sip of the wine flask before coughing as it burned down his throat 'What did you put in this!?' he spluttered breaking the silence

Gaiseric grinned 'Its Predicean red, fortified for the trip'

'Its bloody poison! you should give the recipe to Anegrette next time you want someone dead, this would do the trick!' he said passed the wine flask back to Gaiseric who gulped down another swig of the potent wine like it was water

Around them the clans prepared, a sea of tattooed men and women in boots and fatigues rushed to and fro unloading supplies, dragging animals towards the mounds and polishing weapons. The children of Essalan approached the hunt with the same communal spirit that they did all things in life. Women and Men chatted in thick sudengots as they carried armaments to the tents, young men were lectured in the virtues of the hunt by greying elders and children busily skinned and gutted animals for the evening meal, no one was alone and no one idle.

'So what is your take on our guests?' Gaiseric asked turning to regard Anegrette expectantly

'Truthfully?' She replied quizzically

'i want your honest assessment' Gaiseric replied affirmatively

She pursed her lip, a sign Ana was thinking carefully, glancing at the Prydanian and Dorsettian parties as they busied themselves with preparation. She sighed and reached into her pockets, she produced a cigarette and lighter and lit a smoke, she took a long drag before exhaling.

'Okay' she said cigarette resting on her lips 'The Dorsettian definitely wants to prove herself, look at the way shes dressed, militia uniform and self-checked equipment, if I didn't know better id say she was trying to impress you' she said in a smooth tone as she exhaled smoke and let the cigarette rest between her fingertips

'Well it's nice to know at least one woman in my life is trying' Gaiseric replied with a mischevious smirk

Anegrette rolled her eyes and flicked some ashes in Gaiseric's general direction 'Please, your ego needs no encouragement, I suspect Madeline is doing this to prove something to herself as much as you' she said bluntly as she dropped her cigarette and scraped it out with her boot

Gaiseric was inclined to agree, Madeline's uniform was a dead give away on the steppe, the odd patterns and rank insignia was an oddity for clan folk to behold. The Essalaneans had only recently begun to adopt standard uniforms in their nascent clan army and even then traditions persisted. Despite every attempt by foreign instructors to stamp out traditional methods, soldiers still preferred tattoos, scar markings and bone charms to bars, medals or badges. Madeline was making a statement, like someone declaring their loyalty to a cause, it intrigued the high chief considerably.

'Okay, what about the stag king?' Alric said with a snarky grin

'Tobias Lothbrok third of the great clan of Prydania' Gaiseric corrected sternly

Alric rolled his eyes and chuckled, he delighted in irritating his older brother and the latter's obsession with protocols and forms. Anegrette pursed her lip again.

'I think he's trying to prove something to himself too, isn't he marrying the wolf queen?' Anegrette asked

Gaiseric nodded 'He is'

'He might look like an unsure boy-king but I guarantee there is more going on with that man, he's like a stag slowly growing its horns, once he finds himself he has the whiff of a powerful ruler about him'

'How do you know that?' Gaiseric replied curiously

'I see the same thing with you' Anegrette said matter-factly

'What happened to not giving my ego encouragement' Gaiseric smirked

'I can break my own rules if I want to' Anegrette replied in mock irritation

At their side one-armed priests in dark brown robes shuffled past, their remaining hands carried incense, blades or goats on ropes. The sacrifices were due to happen at any moment.

'Why do we always sacrifice goats!?' Alric asked in an abrupt tone

'Because they taste good in the stew pot afterward' Gaiseric replied with a chuckle

'Couldn't we mix it up occasionally, maybe something less cute?' Alric asked petulantly

'Like what?' Gaiseric asked humoring his brother's bizarre questions

'I dunno, pigs, birds, human maybe' Alric said railing off ideas

'Pigs are too expensive to be killing off, Birds get feathers everywhere and squawk incessantly and father Stopped everyone doing the human thing in 82' after the international community made all those horror movies remember' Gaiseric said

'I just think we could give the goat a break occasionally' Alric grumbled

'Look the goat is the perfect sacrificial animal, we are not changing a working formula' Gaiseric replied

'I love goats too' Anegrette replied in a sincere tone

'You do?!' Alric asked excitedly

'Yep, fun and delicious' She replied with a wicked smile

'I hate you both' Alric said wearily

Ahead the priests had begun their preliminary chants, fires burned and smoke wafted in the breeze as they imbibed roots and hallucinogenics and roared challenges. The dead were summoned from the Seelenwald to adjudicate proceedings, Ziu would be appeased and then the children of the steppe would lead a wolf hunt for the ages.

Tobias stepped out of the truck, his rife bag slung over his shoulder. Laurids followed, yawning a bit. The day was still early and he'd yet to have his usual coffee.

Tobias stopped for a moment and took in the sight of the burial mounds on the horizon.
"They look amazing, don't they, Lord General?" he asked as he adjusted his cap a bit.

"They're certainly impressive Your Majesty" Laurids remarked with a nod.
"How do you think they compare to the ones back home?"

"There aren't many left" Tobias replied. Prydania had only been under the sway of the pagan gods from Andrenne for a century before Messianism arrived. As such the burial mounds in the Austurlands and Tempest Holm were fewer than they were back in Gothis and the ones that survived...

"Damn Syndies" Laurids mumbled. Tobias just chuckled as he continued on his way, following his hosts.

"Have you ever seen an animal sacrifice?" Tobias asked.

"No, I can't say I have."

"I have, in Norsia. It's something else."

"Does it bother you, seeing it?" Laurids asked.

Tobias stopped.
"I didn't think it would..." he said softly.
"I've seen a lot of death...what's one more animal? But when it happened? It shook me a bit."

"That's good" Laurids remarked.

"Why do you say that?"

"Means the war didn't harden ya entirely" the Lord General replied with a smile.
"Come on Your Majesty, we don't want to keep our guests waiting."

"No rush" Tobias replied, taking in the clean air. He'd spent much of his life up until his coronation living in remote areas. Now? He was mostly in Býkonsviði or travelling. Occasionally he'd find time to retreat to Skógurheorot, but that was it. He was enjoying just strolling in the fresh air again.
"Besides" he continued, "we don't want to rush too far ahead of our Silean friends."

He looked back to Madeline as she disembarked from her vehicle. He knew very little about her, but she was a force in the politics of what was now a trade partner. He wanted to take the opportunity to get to know her better.

The blade severed the unfortunate beast's jugular with one clean and practised cut, the goat jerked and twitched frantically for a few seconds before finally going limp. Warmblood seeped onto the ancient stone altar and steaming in the chill morning air. The High Priest held the reddened blade aloft and addressed the assembled crowd.

‘Great Ziu, Eternal Lord of earth and sky, this day we come before you and ask for your blessing, may this blood spilt in your name be pleasing in your sight, we pray oh god of Essalan, grant us a successful hunt!’
A priest gathered up the flowing blood into a stone chalice and moved through the crowds painting sacred markings upon the foreheads of those he passed. Gaiseric and Alric bow their heads and accepted the mark as the priest ran bloodied fingers across their foreheads. Soon the entire crowd bore the bloodied Z upon their face.

The high priest cut into the belly of the dead offering and began to prize free its entrails. The elder priest and his assistants busied themselves examining the heart, liver and intestines for signs and omens. Finally, they gathered up the gory mass and hurled into a brazier, a vile meaty stink filled the air as the entrails burned.

‘The omens are good! Ziu had blessed our hunt!’ The high priest announced, cheers followed and more than a few bondsman made the sacred sign with their hands in thanks.

With that, the gathering dispersed, honor given to the ancestors and the eternal lord of the steppe. Gaiseric and Alric stood silently in the empty stone circle for a time before the younger Volkmann broke the quiet.
‘So, guess that’s it then, we go, we hunt the wolf and we drink’ Alric said optimistically

‘We still have to kill the things, Ziu won't complete the hunt for us’ Gaiseric replied matter-factly

A cool breeze blew in from the wider steppe, a chill wind from the north, the two brothers looked to its direction. The great mountains of the scalp of the world beckoning in the looming darkness, the wildlands call to their would be conqueror's.

The ritual spilling of animal blood... the invocation of a god's blessing... it all seemed uncivilized to Madeline, but not long passed before she reflected on how her own people would pray before a hunting trip or before combat. The simplest "Lord, keep us safe" she would silently ask in her heart was no less "civilized" than that of the Essalaneans. She felt at ease, knowing that two different cultures could reasonably be seen as more unified than she first thought.

As the priest ran their bloodstained fingers over Madeline's head with the mark of Ziu, she felt empowered. Her doubts and fears were washed away. It was obviously the placebo effect, but what matter did it make? She felt ready.

Madeline kept to herself after the ritual had come to an end, staring out into the distance. Sitting down, she held her .50 Berenice close and gazed through the scope, contemplating letting a round off just to reassure herself of her ability to wield such a beast of a weapon. "Meh," she thought to herself before sending one towards a rock in the middle of nowhere. She reasonably believed nobody would care about the noise. If anyone cared about anything, it'd just be about the spent round.

Tobias watched the priests perform their ritual, remaining silent as Laurids stood beside him. Tobias remained focused on the event, but Laurids couldn't help but shoot his King a glance, hoping for a knowing one in return. Yet he got none. The ritual struck him as primitive in a way. He heard Thaunics back home did something similar, but he didn't know any personally. They mostly lived in the valley to the north. He was a small town guy himself. And a Laurentist at that. He rationalized the ritual away given how many times he or his father or brothers would have to field dress a kill after a hunt. What was more blood, really?

The ceremony ending gave him a brief chance to speak to his King.
"Interesting ceremony, Your Majesty" he remarked.

"Yeah" Tobias replied, not seeming put out by it.

"I was worried you'd be a bit uneasy over it" Laurids remarked.

"Me? Or you?" Tobias chuckled.

Laurids blushed a bit but shrugged.
"You don't see a goat slaughtered every day."

Tobias nodded.
"No, I suppose you don't, but our ancestors used to do something similar. Thaunics today don't do this sort of thing, but they used to."

"You've met the Thaunic community, Your Majesty?"

"I visited Akrafjall a few times during the war. They're rebuilding but..." Tobias stared off over the flatness that stretched out towards the horizon.
"A lot of people died"
The Syndicalists had hit Akrafjall hard. Many were killed, many more shipped off to labour camps. It was a punch to the gut of the Prydanian Thaunic community, given that it was their largest settlement.

"Do you think they'll recover?" Laurids asked.

"Eventually" Tobias replied.
"I've been reading up on Thaunica actually. Ever since Alycia introduced me to Borseanism. Makes you think. About our people's older traditions."

"You're not going to claim the mantle of Stormlord are you?" Laurids laughed.

"The Thaunics already say I have it" Tobias replied before adding "I'll be right back."
He made his way to Madeline.

"Madame Prime Minister" he said with a smile, his own hunting rifle flung over his shoulder.
"A .50 Berenice? That's pretty impressive. May I?" he asked with a smile. He'd grown up hunting, and he'd grown up around soldiers. Guns and ammunition were part of life for him, and a .50 Berenice was something he'd always wanted to check out.

"I'll still call you 'Your Majesty' until you tell me not to, but you can just call me Madeline, Your Majesty. Don't worry, it's not something I picked up from Claidie," Madeline said to the King standing behind her. Still planted to the ground, she looked up at Tobias. Hearing he was interested in her weapon, a big grin developed, and she stood up to invite Tobias to take her position.

"Take a shot if you'd like," she said. "There's still four in the magazine. Yours if you want 'em. Just keep your shoulder firmly planted to the stock and your eyes back as far as you can and still see out the scope. She's got a lot of kick -- still makes me sore after a few shots -- and you don't want it punching your shoulder or your eye out."

As she waited to see what Tobias did with her rifle, she thought about the hunt ahead and all of her preparation, including her planned loadout, which didn't include the .50 Berenice. "I'll probably have to leave it behind, so have fun while you can. It's too heavy for long treks." She knew the Berenice was a monster of a weapon, and she rightfully doubted whether she could keep carrying it with her everywhere.

Tobias chuckled as he stepped up.
"'Tobias' is fine" he replied happily as he took Madeline's position.
"And thank you! I've never fired something like this before."
"You don't want to lug this thing around if you're going after wolves" he added, feeling the weapon's weight. He had experience. He had grown up in the heavily forested areas of eastern Prydania and had been hunting since he was fourteen. He knew how to deal with wolves. Even then though...the stories of the wolves on the Essalanean steppe worried him a bit. Enough for a good challenge at least.

Tobias planted his shoulder to the weapon, his eye back as far as he could manage. He stood there for a moment, just feeling the weapon. Getting to know it.
"You DEFINITELY don't want to lug this around" he said as he got acclimated to the weight of the weapon. "I've heard stories though, about Essalanean wolves. You don't want anything too heavy when you're hunting something that's hunting you back..."
He aimed the weapon as a hill, seeing Laurids out of the corner of his eye. He smirked and pulled the trigger. The gun had kick, to be sure, causing Tobias to grunt as the bullet hit the hill with deadly power, the sound echoing through the steppes. Laurids, who had been inspecting his own rifle, jumped up startled.

"Holy shit!" the Lord General of the Knights of the Storm called out as Tobias fired again, the second bullet hitting near the first one in the hill.
"Your Majesty, what is that?"

Tobias' ears were ringing a bit but he was still smiling.
" .50 Berenice" Tobias called out as he fired the third shot, grunting again at the recoil. He switched the safety on, with one left in the chamber, and returned the weapon to Madeline.
"Thank you" he said to her with a smile.
"She's too powerful and heavy for the steppe, I think, but if you'll allow it Madeline, we could all have some fun afterwards, to celebrate our outing."

Laurids was still looking in a bit of a panic.
"A .50 Berenice? You can fire a .50 Berenice Your Majesty?"

"That was my first time."

"How's your shoulder?"

"Madeline's right, it's got a kick and hurts like hell."

"How am I supposed to protect you if you're hurting yourself with 50 cal weaponry?"

"I'm fine" Tobias replied with a laugh as he readjusted his cap.
"You should give it a try later though, if Madeline will allow it."

Laurids merely handed Tobias is rifle.
"Let's get going before we scare all the wolves away."

Tobias nodded and followed his Lord General, chuckling softly to himself and giving Madeline a wink.

A loud bang like a thunderclap shattered the silence of the camp, it repeated three more times, there was an equally jarring sound like a rock being smashed apart that followed each new detonation. Children descended the hill screaming, Gaiseric sighed irritably, his reading was about to be cut short. He put a bookmark in the battered tome he had been reading and watched as a horde of tiny Volkmann youths came scrambling towards him in blind terror.

"WICHTEN*!! WICHTEN!!!" a small boy likely no more than five summers screamed

Gaiseric groaned inwardly and rose from his seat, most the children ducked into tents or behind the legs of adults, Gaiseric rolled his eyes and began walking toward the hill.

"Wichten don't use high powered rifles," he said bluntly

A small crowd of Gaiserics veterans had gathered near the base of the hill, they were staring with looks of awe at the impact holes the 50. cal rounds had created in the rocks on the far side of the valley. These men and women had all survived Neuanfang and the battle of the great plain, explosions did not faze them, they instead watched like spectators at a race.

"Did you see the way it split those rocks!" one man exclaimed

"Aye impressive penetration! could've done with some of those in the Karg war!" a woman chuckled in reply

"That thing would pulp a wolf!" yet another warrior said his jaw agape

"That thing would pulp a bloody building!" Another muttered in shock

Gaiseric grinned despite himself, his people always did have an appreciation for good weaponry, he found the crowd's amusement infectious and by the time he had reached the hill all thought of scolding his guests for firing rounds in a holy place had vanished. Even the ancestors enjoyed a good show.

"The Berenice has indeed lived up to its reputation!" Gaiseric said in an impressed voice, motioning his head towards the pile of rubble on the distant hill

He felt a tiny arm tug at his cloak, he turned to see the boy from earlier staring out at the hill with him, it was pleasing to see that Volkmann curiosity still remained strong in the new generation, he would have to work on their reaction to new firearms though. Gaiseric wondered how soon before Anegrette arrived and tried to get Madeline to draft an arms contract, the thought of Kimbri with weapons like the Berenice was both amusing and genuinely terrifying.

"All I will ask of you is that in future you warn us before firing such a powerful round, some in our ranks are less used to such ordinance," he said in a calm voice before giving the boy a knowing look

"Go and have a look before Alric hogs the view!" Gaiseric whispered to the boy

He stared out at the distant mountain range, a few more hours and they would be out amongst that wild country, He wondered if the wolves knew it too, almost in answer to his question a distant howl filled the morning air.

*The souls of the damned that haunt the steppe

Tobias blushed a bit, having realized what he'd done.
"Of course Gaiseric, I'm sorry" he said with a soft smile before he handed the weapon to Laurids. He then dropped to one knee to greet the small boy. He wasn't sure if he could understand. Tobias knew a few languages himself, but wasn't sure if any were applicable to this young boy.

"Hello" he said in Mercanti.
"It's a powerful gun, but nothing to be afraid of. We're friends."
He stuck his hand out, wondering if the boy knew to shake. He'd dealt with enough children through the Civil War. He was one of them at one point. It had given him a degree of empathy when it came to dealing with kids.

Laurids held the weapon safely, not planning on firing the last round after Gaiseric's request. He watched his King tried to comfort the small child and remembered they were here, at least in part, to get a wolf pelt for His Majesty's wedding. At least Tobias seemed to be good with kids.

He looked around, noticing the same distant howl that Gaiseric seemed to notice. He didn't say anything. He was here to protect his King. It wasn't his place to talk to another head of state out of turn. Still, he studied the man. He seemed...contemplative wasn't the right word. No, he seemed steadfast in knowing what was out there. He began to worry if they were in over their heads again. Years of civil war, and yet wolves seemed terrifying. He supposed it was because they weren't people. People- even enemy combatants- could be understood. A wolf was just an animal. An animal that was bred to kill. And yet there Tobias was. Ready to go into the Essalanean wilderness with a rifle from the 1930s and hunt some of the most dangerous wolves on the planet.
He wondered how much faith Gaiseric had in them. How worried he was. He didn't seem overly concerned, but then again you'd have to be a hardened man to survive here.

He turned his attention back to Tobias.
"Some day you might be firing a gun like that" the King said to the small child.
"Become big and strong, serve your clan like Gaiseric?" he asked with a smile.

Laurids watched as the steppe passed around them. The monotony of the scene- of the flat land and endless skies- made him want to fall asleep. He doubted the King would even mind. Still, it wouldn't look terribly good if the Lord General of the Knights of the Storm fell asleep while on duty to protect the King.

The steppe fascinated Laurids. He'd been from nearly one of Prydania to the other. From his home in Darrow to Haland to Jórvík to Hadden to Býkonsviði, the war had taken him all over. He'd seen the shores of Austurland, the forests of Skóglendi and the rolling hills and farms of Midland and the Crownlands. The steppes of Essalenia, however, tugged at his interest. Even in their apparent banality. They seemed to speak to his soul like the farmlands back home did, but the accent was strange. If that made any sense. He wasn't sure it did, but it was the best way he knew how to describe it to himself.
Maybe it was the unspoiled nature that appealed to him? Maybe he'd secretly missed the countryside after spending so much time in Býkonsviði. He looked up. The sky was bright and blue, the clouds sparse. It made it feel...endless. He had felt, amidst the burned out remnants of the Syndicalist Harrying of Hadden, that he was at the end of the world. The endless skies here, and the endless steppe, made him feel the same way. Without the despair.

He glanced over at the King. Tobias was examining his rifle.

"Can you hand me the case?" he asked.

"The D-16, Your Majesty?"

"Já," Tobias replied.

Laurids passed the hard plastic case containing the pistol/rifle hybrid to Tobias, who had sat his rifle down.

"I'm not sure why you wanted to bring that," Laurids replied.
"We're hunting Essalaneans wolves. Is a D-16 up to it?"

Tobias didn't answer at first, removing the .38 Breca pistol and testing the sites.

"It's mostly for novelty," he said as he looked at the pistol in his hand.
"I'm sure the Sileans and Esselanians haven't seen anything like this before."

"Well as long as you can still take down a wolf," Laurids shrugged.

"That's why I have the rifle," Tobias chuckled.
"But the D-16 might surprise some people. It's no .50 Berenice but it can hold its own."
Tobias began to screw the rifle site from the D-16 conversion kit onto the .38 Breca, bobbing his hand as he tested the weight.

"You didn't carry one of those during the War, did you?" Laurids asked.

"No," Tobias replied, not even noticing his Lord General had dropped formalities.
"I had a 1922 .32, but that's back home."

Laurids nodded. It was a good gun, a solid pistol, but it lacked certain stopping power.
"So when did you come across the D-16?"

"Fuck..." Tobias mused.
"They've always been around. This one though..." he said as he attached the silencer, "I got off some Syndie during our advance on Býkonsviði. I've got another one back home I got off one of our own guys outside of Leiolfsstaoir."

Laurids nodded, a bit tense, but tried not to let the same awkwardness he felt in Tobias show. The War was a hard memory for anyone who lived through it. It was what it was.
"Well I hear the government has begun to try and collect the rogue ones in civilian hands."

"Já," Tobias replied.
"Magnus mentioned that. A good fuckin' thing too. It's still part of history though. I wonder how our friends will find it?"

"They'll be...interested?" Laurids chuckled.
"In my experience foreigners don't know what to do with the D-16 Breca .38."

"Well we'll make sure they all get a go with it," Tobias side, attaching the stock to the gun, completing the conversion from pistol to rifle. He set it down next to his hunting rifle and leaned back, pulling down his cap over his eyes.
"Let me know when we get there."

"Right, of course, Your Majesty," Laurids said with a chuckle. Of course the King got to take a nap.

14 April 2009
6:37 am
On a Tuesday
Somewhere in Austurland, Prydania

Tobias had just turned fourteen. Well he wouldn't be fourteen for another eight and a half hours but who was counting?
He clutched the old hunting rifle like Axle had told him as he followed him through the forest. He was tired at being woken up at the crack of dawn, but he was incredibly excited to be out hunting. It hadn't even been a year ago when Tobias had begged Axle to teach him to shoot. Axle had refused.
Now though, on his birthday, he was being taught how to hunt. Although he was still tired, he didn't complain about all the walking. He'd endured worse. And he wanted to prove to Axle he was ready for this. Besides, kids did this. Tobias was fourteen now. Certainly not a kid anymore.

Well kids used to do this. Hunting was a traditional right of passage in Prydania, and a way for parents to bond with their children. Syndicalism's oppression of traditional rural life, however, had put a damper on that. Even being found in possession of a hunting rifle could land you a stint in a labour camp.

This was FRE territory though, where there was refuge from Syndicalist tyranny. That didn't help Tobias much, however. His father was taken from him before he could teach him how to hunt. And the constant need to move and be safe and hidden had meant that hunting trips were not a priority. Axle, though, had decided that it was time.

"Stop," Axle said quietly, holding a hand back. Tobias obeyed and nodded.
"Get to my side, and get down," he added as he got down to the ground. Tobias obeyed and mimicked Axle, lying on his belly as he propped himself up on his elbows, aiming his gun forward into the forest.

Axle looked over at the young prince.
"Get a firm grip on your rifle."

Tobias nodded excitedly. His rifle. It had been Axle's father's, but Axle had given it to him. He gripped the weapon.
"Do you see any deer, Axle?"

"Up in the brush," Axle said softly.
"Do you see him? Look for the antlers."

"Já...I think I do."

"Ok," Axle said softly.
"Find him in your sights."

Tobias nodded, but couldn't seem to find a comfortable position as he took aim.

"You're fidgeting too much," Axle muttered.

"I'm just trying to get comfortable," Tobias protested, desperate to impress Axle. He turned his beat up camouflage cap backwards, his blond hair poking out from under it as he was able to get a more comfortable aiming position with his cap's bill behind him.

"Ok, breath deep," Axle said, nodding as Tobias seemed comfortable.
"You want to breath deep and feel your body as you inhale and exhale."

Tobias nodded and did what Axle said, feeling his body move slightly as he breathed in and exhaled.

"You want to feel like the rifle is part of you..."

The prince felt the rifle move with him. He felt the wood and metal against his skin.

"Feel it like you would any part of your body. It's your arm. Or finger."

Tobias felt the rifle- it was hard to explain. He just had a sense about it. Like he could visualize it as a part of him already.

"When you're ready, when you know where your rifle is in relation to your body and you see the target you pull..."

Tobias pulled the trigger and the echo of a single shot reverberated through the forest.

---

Present day
Steppes of Essalanea

Tobias shot awake, looking down at his rifle by his feet. It was that same rifle Axle had given him years ago. Ten years ago...and here he was. About to face the most difficult hunt of his life.

"You have good timing, Your Majesty," Laurids said, seeing the King awake.

"Já, it was ten years ago...what are the odds I'd dream about that?"

"Pardon Your Majesty?" Laurids replied.
"I just meant we're almost there."
Indeed, the transports slowed.

"Oh," Tobias chuckled.
"Right."

"You had a dream?" Laurids asked.

"Eh, it's nothing to worry about."

"So not a nightmare then?" Laurids asked.

"No Lord General," Tobias replied with a smile as the transports stopped.
"Not at all."

The King grabbed his gun cases and eagerly jumped out, happy to stretch again. He took in a breath of fresh air, as he looked across the unspoilt steppes. Ready for the challenge.

The Essalanean Steppe

Gaiseric shivered as he gazed out at the horizon, it had been a long journey from Neuanfang, the scalp of the world loomed menacingly in the distance. The air was damp, pregnant with moisture that flowed down from the fog crested heights above, the land below was a mass of wild and untamed scrubland. Once this place had been a hub of activity bearing witness to the endless cycles of war and invasion that had once defined life on the Arrandi border, those days were long passed now though. The region had since earned a new name better suited to its present nature, the so-called 'wildlands' were a benighted place and superstitions abounded even in the modern era.

For the Volkmann such a realm was the ultimate challenge, a hunting ground like no other, for here in the shadow of the mountains dwelled that most terrible of beasts. Like their arrandi kin, the Essalanean wolf was a vast creature of fur, fang, and claw, often growing as large as horses. centuries of isolation from the packs across the mountain had done nothing to dilute the creature's ferocity save to change the ghostly grey pelt to the gold of the steppe. To hunt the wolf required that the hunter surpass the animal's cunning, a challenge even for the most experienced of trackers.

'Why do we hunt the wolf if it is our totem?' Gaiseric had once asked his father

'Ziu sends the wolf to test our worth, it is the ultimate teacher' Hunneric had replied

Now years later Gaiseric prepared once more to match his wits against those of the wolf and he had brought foreigners to test their metal as well. The first wolf hunt by heads of state from beyond the steppe would either be an auspicious sign that the old ways could adapt or would cement the age-old view that unhorsed were incapable of understanding life on the plains. The pressure for things to go well was astounding, Gaiseric had slept little since the journey east had begun, instead, he filled his waking hours with managing the preparations for what was to come.

Tents dyed in the hue of the washed-out scrub were erected in vantage points across the plains, bait was laid out in areas that had been carefully scouted and hunters kept careful watch over the lowlands for any sign wolves. They did not have to wait long for a sighting, as the sun rose over the hunting grounds and heralded the beginning of the expedition's first official day, a blood-curdling sound filled the dawn air, a long and eerie howl pierced the silence of the plains. The wolves had emerged from their lairs and they were making their presence known.

'Now it begins' Gaiseric muttered grimly as he reached for his rifle

Tobias walked a bit along a low ridge of soil. He'd done it to stretch at first, but the sights of the wildlands and the smell of the air- even how they wind blew off the steppe- captivated him in a way. He removed his cap and ran his hand through his hair. It felt good. He hadn't realized how long he'd been wearing his cap. He messed his hair some, to eliminate the hat hair he'd gotten, and gripped his cap tight. Then he crouched down and, with a free hand, dug his fingers into the dirt. It was cold, just damp enough to give the soil weight, without turning it to mud.

Tobias let the soil crumble from his hands as he stood, tucking his cap into his belt.

"Are you a superstitious person, Laurids?" he asked as the Lord General of his Knights came up behind him.

"I developed my own idiosyncrasies during the War," Laurids replied. "Superstitions that I guess thought helped."

"Don't step on broken branches?"

"Heh," Laurids chuckled.
"More like tapping my finger on the butt of my rifle three times anytime I felt nervous."

"But I mean," Tobias said, "do you believe in superstitions? Myths?"

"Like what? Draugurs and Skógarmaðurs?"

"Já," the young King replied.

"I fought from Darrow to Býkonsviði, across forests and farmlands, hills, valleys, cities, and fishing towns. I saw a lot of crazy shit, but nothing that wasn't man made."

Tobias nodded.
"I've been all over too. I don't know. I find those stories hard to shake."

"The bodies of the restless dead, forest and sea spirits?" Laurids asked.

"Sometimes when you're alone in the Skógarlandi* at night, the moonlight makes you think you see things. Your imagination runs wild. I spent a lot of time alone in the Skógarlandi."

"So you believe in superstitions then?" Laurids asked, sounding amused.

"Já," Tobias answered sincerely in a way that made Laurids feel like a jerk for having some fun with the questions.
"I don't believe in everything but...there's more to this world than we know. I believe that."

"And you're feeling spiritual right now?" Laurids asked.

Tobias looked back over the sun peaking over the steppe.
"Because I feel like this place has the same energy as back home. There's a heaviness here. You can feel it. There's energy here."

"Are we going to hunt wolves or ghosts?" Laurids asked.

"Maybe they're one in the same," Tobias asked with a sly smile.
"Hey, get the guns ready, will you?"

"Sure thing," Laurids replied, heading back to gather the weapons.

Tobias, meanwhile, made his way to Gaiseric and Madeline.

"So what's the plan?" he asked eagerly.

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*Skógarlandi- Forestlands, the name for Prydania's forests that stretch from Austurland into Midland