^*^*^*^*

It was a woman who stood above her.   Petra still couldn't make out an abundance of detail.  But she didn't need to.  She knew who and what this was.

Some called herself valkyrie.  Ha. They should be here now -- to feel the sheer grandeur of the real thing...

The warrior-maiden knelt, and very gently, took Petra's fingers into her own.  The rest of the pain vanished then -- there was only a supernal sense of glory -- so overwhelming, it almost made her weep...

A tear splashed onto her cheek, then.

The valkyrja was crying for her-?   Why-?

And then with a sudden jolt, she knew with certainty it had not fallen from the valkyrie's eye.

And she recollected with utter clarity why she was not ready to forsake her life in the mortal world.

Heolstor.   She could not see him...but she felt him, all the same. She knew he wanted some sign from her. She attempted to speak to him...but found she could not.  She had to do something...or very shortly, it would be too late.

Petra disengaged her hand from that of the valkyrie;  a very small motion, but one that communicated volumes of resolve. For one of her calling, such a refutation might have been tantamount to sacrelige. Be that as it may, there was no hiding or denying the choice of her soul.  Her heart.

The unearthly countenance above her frowned slightly, briefly.  Then smiled a little less faintly, nodded once.  And stood; turned back toward the wing-steed.

With that, the pain rushed back into Petra's awareness.   Terrible, awful.

But it was alright.

It let her know she was yet alive.

^*^*^*^*

Those watching might have noted Petra's hand move suddenly and slightly. Almost as if she were retracting it from something.   And then she coughed a little.  Her breathing became a little more regular.

Heolstor calms when confronted by Gia, putting away his worry over Petra for a moment and hiding it behind a mask of stoicism. For once, it didn't feel very effective: he could still feel the drying moisture clinging to his eyes' corners. ... But they had come here to aid these people, after all, not impart on them greater anguish. "Thank you." Heolstor replied gratefully. More could be said, Heolstor was sure, but those words were not at hand.

In Heolstor's absence Brennus took charge - not surprising, truth be told. The Saxon watched him for a moment as he tried to rally the crowd. In any other circumstance, Lord Strang would be with him. Ready to ride the enemy down and make their defeat absolute.

But, he couldn't leave Petra's side.

"Brennus!" Heolstor shouted, calling the younger man's attention to himself. Still seated, he reached to his side and unstrapped a second scabbard - one he had not drawn the blade from during their travels. The Saxon took in in hand and tossed the sheathed sword to Brennus.

Even within its scabbard, it was obvious: this was an extraordinarily fine blade of Germanic make. Something more was obvious. Heolstor was giving Brennus his blessing to bring this episode to an end. So far the Saxon had led, now he was trusting Brennus to.

"I took it from the Huns we smote at Beda." Heolstor explained. To Heolstor, this moment had meaning that was hard to put into words. Gundobad had once given him his chance. Now, Heolstor shared the same with Brennus. "It has a keen edge, but no name." The Saxon indicated with a half-smile, still weighed down by the somber nature of their situation as Petra laid still on his lap. "Give it one." Give it one, and win your glory here today, Heolstor thought. Mens' lives were stories and a man's true journey, as a warrior, must begin somewhere. Brennus' began here, as Heolstor's had begun at Lingones.

Heolstor turned his attention back to Petra, and he continued to monitor her condition. He was relieved to notice the regularity and evenness of her breathing increase. Perhaps his healing had done more good than he had dared hope. The Saxon watched her hand move, as if fleeing from an embrace. The situation still seemed dire - but for now, at least, it seemed Petra's life was secured. For that, Heolstor was grateful to the gods.

He breathed an audible sigh of relief, wondering what offering could be sufficient in return for this mercy. Heolstor didn't know. Perhaps the priestess at his side would know, once she was whole again.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:01, Fri 18 Oct 2013.

     In the main hall of the temple, people are swarming around, some in wonder, some in shock, most curious.  It's one of those “something has happened” events that draws people in.  The call to find “Verda” accelerates the process.

Brennus's call for a leader is met with perplexed, worried glances among the townsfolk.

“You've killed the leader,” Gia says, after seeing that no one else had anything to say.

One of the boys who tried to join the fight against Silok adds a little more explanation.  “He didn't allow anyone else.  None of us... they'd take you away, if they thought people were listening to you.  So nobody here...”

He trails off and a young woman holding a baby picks up the narrative:

“But in Colonia, there are.  They came from there, sometimes, men who said they worked in the name of the Emperor of the Huns.  They told us what we had to do.”

It becomes clear.  There is no one left here with any authority.  There are a few that the people trust more than others, mostly by virtue of age and experience, but for a long time, the only ones imposing any order here have been Huns, and those in their service.

Hermod ruffles his wings, stretches his neck forwards, and makes a soft “hrrmph” sound, seeming to be paying attention to something else for a moment, and then plods over to Petra... although who opened the door for the Winged Horse is unclear.

Verda arrives.  She looks young for an “old wise woman”- only about forty, Worn, tired, as ragged as any of the others, but not yet gray or wrinkled.  She wears a necklace made of interwoven plants, a few fresh, some old and dried.  The villagers steer her to Petra immediately.  She looks with amazement at the Winged Horse.

"You don't have healing powers, then,"  she says to the horse after a few moments.

Hermod shakes his head.

"I will have to do what I can, then," Verda says.

Seeing and listening to the people, the party can tell, they are Germanic.  The place is certain Roman, at least it was for centuries and the Romans built everything here.  But the people are Germanic.  As the party would know, Germanic people have spent the past century streaming into the Roman Empire, in large part fleeing the Huns and other Orc powers behind them.

Here, clearly, they did not flee far enough.

Brennus smiled gratefully to Heolstor, taking the proffered sword in hand. "My thank you Lord of Lingones. You must attend to your comrade.  I'll see what I can do here with the tools at hand."

He raised his voice again: "I am Brennus of Belgica; my cousin is the Duchess of Tongrorum and for now you can consider myself under my protection and leadership... if you'll have it.  You are no longer bound to the service of the Hunnic Emperor; you are free."

He drew a deep breath trying to keep his nerves from showing. "We must send to the Elves and my own King requesting aid for in truth we will not hold out long without help. Gia, you are wise in the ways of this place and I have need of your wisdom - how much food does the town have?"

They gather around Brennus.  Despite the wonder of a winged horse, Brennus seems to have the air of "I know what's going on" which people cling to in uncertain times.

"We have no shortage of food now," Gia says.  "Now that we don't have to feed him."

She points to the body of the giant.  "And the Orcs.  They ate a lot, and our work was to feed them."

"How far are the Elves?" someone asks.

There are more people approaching the temple hall- but these are a pair of Heolstor's riders, and one is injured.

"The Huns fled the town," the injured man says.

There are cheers from the townsfolk, people embrace each other.

"Every which way," the soldier continues.  "Chasing them down would have divided us too far.  But this is an empty place.  Almost every home is abandoned.  How many people are left here?"

"Six score and ten and two," Verda says, leaning over Petra and applying a wet but  sweet smelling leaf poultice. She speaks without turning her head, evidently following what's going while keeping her attention on Petra.  "But that accounts for those I know are dead this day.  There may be fewer of us.  It will be one more next week, when Rosagund has her baby."

"I will do what you want me to," Gia says to Brennus.  "I cannot speak for anyone else..."

There are murmurs of consensus and consent.  Evidently, she does speak for some others.

Brennus tried not to show how terribly relieved he was things had gone so smoothly. He smiled thankfully at Gia.

"Well with the orcs gone our first priority will be to gather any equipment they have left behind.  Not simply weapons and armour, though they are important, but any maps and paperwork - they might give us a better idea of what we are facing. Do the orcs keep any slave camps nearby?"

Brennus was already hinking how terribly few his people were. If they could liberate slaves from the Huns it would give them a much needed source of manpower... and greatly improve morale. He was under no illusions that the townsfolk were brave and determined but against Orcish soldiers they needed something more.

Turning back to Helostar he glanced at Petra for a moment, then said sympathetically: "My Lord Lingones... we need someone to go and bring aid as soon as soon as possible.  Someone who can handle themselves in a fight and also has the authority to ask for help and get it. I know it is much to ask of you but will you go?"

Brennus learns that there are people held to the north, in a place called Juliacum.. in fact, Humans are slaves wherever there are Orcs, because the Orcs depend on Humans to provide food for their lazy hordes.  Juliacum is a bit different.. the people here think there might be Elves held there as well.  Elves are never set to work.  Orcs see Elven captives more as entertainment.

Brennus talks with the locals about the Orcs, and what they were doing, and slaves, and between what he already knows about events over the last year, and what Heolstor and Petra know, and the stories here, he builds up a picture- and sees how Aquae Grannis fit into the much larger scope.

Aquae Grannis is on the north side of the Ardennes, the deep and rugged forest that is home to the Elven Kingdom of the Ardennes as well as the much smaller Lucimburic.  Last spring, the Emperor of the Huns began laying the groundwork for an offensive designed to do two things- crush the independent, upstart Belgican Duchies and destroy the Elven Kingdom.  It was ambitious, but the two goals overlapped- defeat of the Belgicans would result in the Elves being completely surrounded by Hun armies, and the Elves could not be everywhere at once.

“Unforeseen events” caused the Emperor’s plan to stall.

Heolstor and Petra had been with the force that checked the Emperor’s advance from the east.  Heolstor had brought a force of Human warriors all the way from Burgundy, and along the way they had allied with Dwarves and Elves moving north with the same purpose.  Orc thinking simply didn’t allow for such unprecedented cooperation.  The Huns’ eastern force slammed into a “field fortress” created by Dwarves, something the Orcs were unprepared for.

On the western front, the Hun army cut through Belgica quickly, and then advanced into the Elven forest.  Here, also, Theoderic played against the lack of Hun appreciation for cooperative effort.  He had Belgican troops retreat into the Ardennes.  He had to overcome some Elven reluctance to have Humans swarming into their lands, and it left some Belgican towns open to the Huns, particularly Bruxzella, but it meant that when the Orcs finally reached the point where the Elves decided to stop them- Namaco, on the Meuse River- they were met by Elves, along with many Belgicans, and  Theoderic’s Frankish cavalry, assisted by a company of Centaurs.

Thus were the two main Hun offensives stopped.

Here, on the “northern front”, there was something of a side show.  The Emperor didn’t have enough troops on hand for a third major offensive, but the Elven kingdom is divided into “Marks” and the north side is home to the Mark of the Royal Line.  Where the Emperor could not focus his main attacks, he used “holding attacks”- raids and feints designed to tie up his enemies’ resources, so that they could not join in defending against the main attacks.  The goal on the northern front was to pin down the Elven King and Queen, and their considerable strength.

So while much larger forces met in the main contests on the east and west sides of the Ardennes, Aquae Grannis became the staging point for a series of probes, raids, and feints against the Elves.

This was very costly for the Huns.  One does not lightly raid into Elven forests, especially into land guarded by their king.  The Huns planned their “winter war” knowing that frozen ground and leafless trees worked against the Elves.  But it wasn’t enough of an advantage.  Hundreds of Orcs were lost- along with Ogres, Trolls, and other servants of the Huns.  A few Elven prisoners were brought back.   According to the people of Aquae Grannis,  perhaps ten.  And of course the Orcs told tales of vast slaughter of Elves… but who could believe them?

The Elves retaliated, but this was more dangerous for the Elves.  They killed many more Orcs, but paid for it.  There were several Elven attacks here, and one early on killed the powerful Orc shaman that was supposedly in charge- leaving Silok.  Still, the Elves were not able to take the town, and it is likely that they weren’t really trying.  The Elven raids stopped midwinter, when the last prisoners here were moved out.

But overall, as costly as it was, the “northern front” war achieved the Emperor’s objective:  the Elves here could not go to the aid of their brethren elsewhere.  The winter war left Aquae Grannis very depleted.  Only half as many Orcs were here as there were a year ago.  According to what the party recalls about the Elves, though, this is not known by the Elves.  Apparently Elven Reconnaissance has overestimated the number of Orc still here, and underestimated the damage the Elves had inflicted.

The Humans here know a little of Hun politics- more than the Huns ever thought.  They know that the Huns were planning on “restocking” Aquae Grannis, but there are some ongoing squabbles among the great Hun warlords.  Aquae Grannis has earned a reputation with them, a place of constant friction with the Elves.  Orcs enjoy fighting Elves, but Orc Warlords do not enjoy seeing their war bands frittered away through bloody attrition.  So there has been a lot of disagreement over whose turn it is to garrison Aquae Grannis.

Heolstor let the request hang between them for a moment. It was much to ask, with Petra in the condition she was. Still - Lord Strang saw the urgency and purpose clearly. Still, it was not an easy thing. He had duties long overdue among his own people too. Duties he had put on hold to lead an army North. Now that this temple was secured, he had thought to make for Lingones once again...

But these people did need assistance... And they needed Brennus to stay. A young man with vision, leading a group of refugees that had once been slaves. It was the same as it had been for Lingones. All but the names.

"I will." Heolstor promised. Binding words, for a man who saw every oath as an unbreakable pact. "In two days, at the latest, I will ride from this place and bring word of your need to where it must go." That might give Petra time to recover her legs. Or, at the least, to wake... So he could be sure of her condition before departing.

Brennus looked deeply relieved, and a rare smile broke across the young man's face.  "Thank you."

The noble quickly returned to considering matters with his provisional council of advisors (that is to say Gia and anyone else who carried weight with the townsfolk.)  "As I see it we should raid Juliacum and try and liberate the unfortunates in chains there. As well as rescuing our own people if there are Elves there it will help win the gratitude of the long lived folk.  However I know it will be no easy task. Does anyone present know Juliacum?  Even if the information is old it is better than nothing."

He paused thoughtfully, conflicting emotions crossing his face.  "Also... we should clean and reconsecrate this temple to Belenus, or Apollo as the Romans call him.  I... admit that I have not been a follower of him before but I cannot believe it coincidence that we slew the giant in the shadow of his temple.  The god favours this town, favours this cause and we should show gratitude."

Eventually, the entire population, all that is left of the people of Aquae Grannis, is gathered here in the temple complex.  They have no idea of what else to do.  The town was empty enough before.  Now, without the Huns, it's almost ghostly.

There are a hundred and fifty people here.  Woman make up about two thirds- there is a less chance that Orcs will consider them challenges, so they tend to survive in greater numbers.  About a quarter are children.  The children look weak and poorly fed, and the younger ones, having lived their whole young lives under the shadow of the Huns, have a fearful and feral look.  Those who have seen Hun occupation before (notably Petra and Heolstor) recall that the Huns frequently tolerated some continuity of the Human social order, and allowed some Humans to prosper.  Those would aid in managing the rest.  But not here.  As small as the surviving Human population is, there was no need for an managerial class above them.

No one has traveled out of here in years, except for a few, who worked as baggage handlers and drovers for the Huns.

A boy raises his hand.  He looks to be close to becoming a man, and maybe somewhere along the way to becoming a rat, because he is scrawny (but with a wiry look) and small and dirty.

He steps forward and speaks to Brennus quietly.

"I was in Juliacum just a while ago... maybe two months, when we moved the Elf prisoners up.  I was.. I was the only one they let come back.  Haldred and Vessy, the Huns thought.. found out.. they were talking about helping the Elves escape, and they weren't allowed back.. I think they were... we don't talk about it loud, because they were brothers, and their mother is still here.  But I know some of Juliacum, and a few others here have been there before me, but I been there last."

Brennus looked sympathetic.  He was not so very many years older than the youth himself come to think of it, even if his life had been far less hard.

"What is your name lad? And please tell me all you can of Juliacum.  How many guards and prisoners? Are many others from here?"

1. “Orreg,” the youth says.  “I went there… it’s not as big a place as here but its more filled up with things.  They’ve got a fort there, and that’s where the Orc who is in charge of everything between the rivers, that’s where he is.  We went there through Corriovallum, cause that’s where the road goes.”

He explains further.  From the sound of things, the Huns “regional headquarters” is there, safely back from Mos Trajectum to the west, and the Elves to the south.  It is a smaller place than Aqauae Grannis, but there are more people and Orcs there.

The most surprising part of Orreg’s description is the “Blackguard’s Quarter.”  The Blackguards are those Humans that serve the Huns.  They are selected from the Humans that are sociopathic and selfish, yet also malleable enough to be manipulated.  There is a village here built within the walls of a fort.  It appears to be a perfectly respectable little village, but it exists entirely for the sake of the Blackguards- for their comfort, because, after all, even if you’re a sociopathic evil traitor to Human kind, it’s still more pleasant to live in a Human environment.  Orcs have hygiene issues. They seem to live a normal life in this little village, but it is like a zoo exhibit- except for the Blackguards (Orreg knows there are at least a few)- no one can leave.

And one more thing.  It is home to a Demon.  A genuine Demon, summoned and pressed into service as the prison warden, because they hold the important prisoners there.  Orreg knows nothing about this Demon.  He just heard it mentioned, while he was there.

* * * * * * *

The people of Aquae Grannis have to make some decisions in the days to come.  Stay..or flee?  That will be the first.  But all that will come.  For the moment, they are going to celebrate this day without Orcs, with the dreaded Silok dead.  They decide by quick consensus that there will be a village feast- whatever they've got and can get- here in the Temple complex.

With Petra committed to the, perhaps more capable, care of Verda... Heolstor decides to help in what way he can. Still though, he seems reluctant to move too far from Petra's side. On occasion, he makes a point to check back in and see if she's woken.

During a quiet moment Heolstor finds Brennus and pulls him aside in private, intent on offering what advice he can. "When Petra is able, I must leave. I have been apart from my own people for too long. Lingones and Tullum both - I promised to protect and lead them, and I cannot tarry much longer here. I led an army North and shattered the Hunnic offensive into the Ardennes. They will not forgive, and they will not forget."

"With us gone, you and Leanna are the only warriors here. You must know that. Whatever enemy lies waiting for you in Juliacum, these people cannot fight them. The Huns killed the fighters among them and broke the rest - if they go to that place, they march to a slaughter." Heolstor spoke plainly. "Wait for Theoderic. Wait for his warriors. When they are here, explain yourself, and he will move with you." It felt odd to Heolstor, to now dispense wisdom as he did. Though the Saxon spoke evenly he felt clumsy as the words left his mouth. Only a year prior there had been a council of great men advising him as he began his tenure as a lord.

"He is a king, but you are a lord in all but name now. Explain your case to him. He is a good man, and he will listen." Heolstor clasped Brennus on the shoulder. "Let me know if you need anything of me, beside the delivery of your message."

Heolstor left then, to again check on Petra, and also to look into the matter of the medallion. Silok had fallen, but the question of his enchanted necklace had not been brought to its end. Was it destroyed? If not, would it remain in the temple? These were questions that needed answers.

Brennus reluctantly nodded at Heolstor's wisdom. "My thanks Lord of Lingones. I suppose it would be a mistake to move too far, too fast."

He turned to the gather citzens and rose his voice to let them hear him: "People of Aquae Grannis; the days ahead will be hard and you must be brave and strong. It will be very hard, but I have seen with my own eyes what you are capable of. If we hold - and we will hold - help with come. Tomorrow we will see to the city defenses, but for this evening rejoice in your liberty, rejoice in your victory, rejoice in the favour of your gods!"

Turning to Orreg, he clapped a hand on the youth's shoulder and gave him a smile.  "You're a bright lad. Think you can rustle up a team to drag that-" he pointed at Silok's prone body "-out of our temple?"

Orreg lets it be known that Brennus wants the body out.  People get to work dragging the remains of Silok away.  The Giant weighed as much as ten men- dragging him is a lot of effort. Silok is deposited in a field away from the town.  When they have the time they'll give Silok some sort of grave.  Not out of any respect for the giant, but to keep the smell of decaying Giant out of Aquae Grannis.

A few of the townsfolk perform some field butchery on the giant.  And this is not out of disrespect, but rather, from the desperate pragmatism that is the hallmark of the oppressed, who have learned to overcome squeamishness, when there is value to be had.  Bonework is a common craft, especially among the poor and "rustic".  Animal bones, horns, and antlers are carved into a wide variety of useful and decorative objects, such as combs, clasps, fish hooks, buttons, sewing implements of all sorts, and toys and figurines, and a wide variety of other tools.  Human bones would never be used for anything; that would break all manner of taboo.  But a giant... well.. the idea seems to be running around that some of those bones must be strong as iron, to bear that weight.  Too good of a resource to waste.  Some of Silok's bones go missing.


The people here can only celebrate so much- life makes its demands and they must be met.    But there is a lot of “what's next” talk.  Things are not as straightforward as it may seem.  They could leave, and try to reach Mos Trajectum- surely the Belgicans would have room for them to settle.  But then... how would they get there?  There is talk of a Dragon- the same Dragon the party was warned about.  While the Dragon clearly chose to leave a large, strong group unchallenged, it would probably not be so passive given a caravan of poor settlers- what kind of toll would it claim?  And they cannot take the roads.  The only road here goes north to Coriovallum, and there joins the main east-west road that links Mos Trajecutm in the west with Juliacum and eventually Colonia Agrippinia.  And Coriovallum is held by the Huns.  They cannot use the road.

As they eat, and talk, the idea seems to spread... at least for now, they must stay here.

* * * * *


Heolstor's eagerness to advance on Juliacum is tempered by the reality of wounds- he needs time to recover, and Petra, more so, even with the aid of their magic.

The worst of injuries, they both know, should not be healed solely with magic except in extreme circumstances.  Sometimes the magic does not give, but borrows, and for this reason it is known that the body must left to do its part as well.  It is not for nothing that Wotan's great injuries were not fully healed, though surely the god has the power to do so at a whim.

So they have some time to spend here, although they intend it to be as brief as possible- days and not weeks.

They see the people get to work, this time, mostly for themselves, although they are generous with supplying the party and the warriors.

Brennus keeps them busy and organized.  It is late spring, and there is lots of work to do in the fields, to grow food.

Within a few days, Petra is ready to travel again.  But now, there is word from the warriors posted as sentries.  Upon the very hill that the party used to look out onto Aquae Grannis, they now see... Centaurs!  A sizable group of them, two dozen at least!

Brennus had turned rather green at the sight of the townspeople setting to work on the giant but forbade to comment.  He knew what desperate straights they had been living under and how no potential resource could be squandered.

In the following few days he set up a makeshift town council to advise him as acting leader of Aquae Grannis, appointing Gia and (despite his youth) Orreg amongst others.  In truth he was growing anxious over the delay in sending for aid but he was careful not to show his doubts in public.  Morale had to be maintained. And then the centaurs arrived.

In wonder Brennus summoned his makeshift council to his side and walked out to meet the newcomers. He ordered the group to carry arms but keep them sheathed, so if it came to a fight they would not be entirely helpless but nor would they be actively hostile. "Welcome to Aquae Grannis friends... if indeed you be friends."

It was a rather reflective and pensive Petra who eventually came back to consciousness.

What had transpired after her injury had the seeming of a vague dream now.  And she chalked it up as such. But the fact that she'd come nearer to being killed than ever she had was cause for some thought.  On a number of things.

As a first priority, she sought out Heolstor's company, and attempted to procure with him what time alone could both be had and afforded.  She did not say a great deal; some things were better communicated without words.

Afterward, she set about taking stock of the current situation, and how she might best assist.  Tending the injured or ill was, as usual, a priority.  So too ministering to any down-trod souls who particularly needed it.

Beyond that, she was in concord with Brennus' post-battle assessment.   The temple of Aquae Grannis needed reconsecration.    She did that task very willingly, if the folk of this place were agreeable to an outland priestess performing the function.   Both Eostre and bright Phol were complementary to the Celtic Sun-lord.

As for the folk's practical approach toward the enemy's remains, she didn't begrudge them.   Her own people were a practical minded lot, as well.  Any northward civilization needed to be, with the hard winters.   As well, it could be considered as Silok providing some recompense in death, for everything he'd stolen by force in life.  It sat well enough with her sense of justice.

She was surprised as any to hear heralded the arrival of Centaurs.  Another curious race she'd never met priorly.  To be part human and horse-?   She could scarcely imagine what life was like for them.

Brennus formed his own delegation, and went off to greet them.  She trusted him to be suitably diplomatic, and gain allies, if possible.

Nonetheless, she stood with both Heolstor and Hermod, ready to mount up and provide cover from the sky, if things happened to go south.

"Have you ever dealt with centaurs, before?" she inquired of Heolstor, at his side.

"Quite a calvary they could be, hey?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:59, Wed 30 Oct 2013.

Brennus heads off to greet the newcomers and will find them in a new thread:  Aquae Grannis. 

For the moment, the rest are still here.

 Brennus's selection of Gia and Orreg as “leaders” goes unquestioned by the locals, who are used to accepting what they are told.  Yet, it was an act of expedience, everyone knows.  Neither seem optimal for the role, but then, optimal may not be available, and sometimes making do is the best that can be hoped for.  Orreg has traveled recently and seen a lot more than most here.  And yet, by his own admission, he owes his survival to having more of a “shut up and accept” attitude than his peers.  It's left a mark on him- though he automatically obeys Brennus, he expects the other youngsters of Aquae Grannis to treat him with the same kind of quiet deference.

Gia has more wisdom of years, and she has a good heart, and she even remembers the pre-Hun life, when she was a girl.  But her experience has been dulled by years of monotonous drudgery, the endless focus on making bread, making bread, making more bread, and keeping the people fed with whatever scraps the Huns overlooked.   She has little knowledge of anything beyond her immediate world, though she has faith and optimism that “it will be better.”

Soon, the group sees that there is a sort of informal leadership pattern among the people here:  although none have authority, they do know who knows what, and they will defer to the person who knows best the issue at hand.  For example, the "guy who knows about making stuff" is Cergord.  He's and older man, approaching fifty, and frail looking.  But he's the best craftsman here. He's managed to produce an excellent looking fishing spear, a pronged, forked spear- out of a large bone that recently belonged to Silok.

* * * * *

Once the people here realize Petra is a cleric, (and Hermod's presence is a very good clue to Petra being “special”) Petra gets an instant following.  There is probably a lot of things people could be doing, but there is no shortage of volunteers for “temple cleaning.”

One question comes up:  Silok's trophies,  the arms and armor he displayed on the wall.  Some complete Elven costumes.  And that odd sword that had been charged with a  compulsion to slay Silok.  What of them?  There are Elven cloaks and suits of armor hear, bows, swords and other weapons, and various pieces of “field gear”.

Heolstor was easy to find, being not far from the heart of things as usual: overlooking Brennus' meeting with the centaurs from afar. For once he did not stray to and fro, consumed by the necessities of duty, but remained fixed. He said nothing of the events in the wake of Petra's injury. Nothing of his nervous protectiveness nor of the trying moments following Silok's fall. Still, relief was palpable in everything he did. As Petra met with him, he stepped aside to make room atop the ridge he stood on. A good place to overlook the proceedings of Brennus' rendezvous.

"No, I never have." Heolstor smiled. "We've seen many oddities in our travels, but I think even the two of us must be naïve as children."

Especially me, he thought, but said nothing. To ever think the world was ever truly as simple as I saw it. And that ignorance, that inflexibility, nearly cost me you. Heolstor looked to the Northwest, to the horizon, squinting as if looking at something very far away. "I gave my word that I would carry a request for aid to Belgica... But only once you were whole."

"... And after that, I think, Lingones and Tullum. We've struck the blow we came to offer the Hun, there's work enough for us in the South." Heolstor suggested. "But, what do you think, Petra? Have we done all that we should here?"

One other thing, definitely a priority I neglected to mention;  Petra will see to proper disposition of the remains of those Elves.   Either a pyre, or burial, depending which Elves normally do.  She would know from her mother.   And she will perform the rites in Elvish, asking for the blessing of Frey to see their spirits safely to their proper destination. 

"Almost," she answered him.  "I do want to remain just a little longer, to ensure the temple is properly cleansed and blessed.  After that, as for my being whole -- "  she smiled, shrugged.  "I am a priestess, no?  Naturally, I am whole-y. Oh. That was terrible. You see why I did not become a skald?  But, yes; truly I am fit to travel. And I agree with you.  The south needs us. In fact, Lingones is my true assignment, as given by Kandralde. There is the matter of the founding of a temple, there. I followed you out here only to demonstrate we Frisian clergy don't sit praying by the altar, while there are deeds to be done out in the world. I think I've proven my point, now."

She nodded in affirmation; moved a lock of hair the breeze had blown into her face, and that seemed bent on robbing her of gravitas.

Actually, it was assisting. Intentionally, she was doing her best to lighten the mood.  He had far too much on his shoulders, as was ever the case.  She did not want to be responsible for adding more to the load.  She already had.  Just as she'd reacted to the sight of his own peril and injury.  It was unavoidable.  But now it was over, she would mitigate as she could.

Heolstor smiled despite himself, in a 'did you really just say that' sort of way, rolling his eyes as a smirk worked its way across his lips. "I think you proved that long ago. Perhaps something else has bound you to this course." The warrior's olive-hued eyes looked to hers, quietly speaking what his words had left out. With a lingering that border on reluctance he turned his gaze back to Brennus' delegation, and their half-human counterparts. Only, wait - were some of those centaurs actually mounted men?

Even from a distance, Heolstor thought he could recognize those riders. Theoderic had arrived from the West. Was he then in league with the centaurs?

That would make them allies, wouldn't it? Yet another question that deserved an answer.

"We should make our way over, to see what is being said, if they don't start this way." Heolstor suggested.

Elven armor, weapons, and clothing in the hall.

(Assuming there was time for this "off camera")

Identifying the owners- to be more precise, the families and presumed heirs of the owners-  is not as easy.  Brennus is the only one present who knows much about the who is who among the Elves, and even Brennus’s knowledge is limited to those family lines that chose to interact often with Human civilization.  This was not a common pastime for Elves.  And not every Elf wore identifying heraldric symbols.  And on top of that, the Elves that sent warriors this way to deal with Silok and the Huns did not overlap 100% with the Elves who visited Belgica.   Only where the three circles intersect- Elves known in Belgica, Elves coming this way to raid the Huns, and Elves wearing known household symbols, is Brennus able to clearly associate outfits with names.

That gives him only two.  There are the Lighthawks,   for one. Not only the strongly geased Elven blade infused with a desire to slay Silok, but the armor that went with it- a suit of very fine chain main, with the metal links coated in some dark, smooth resinous material that seems to draw in light.  Brennus knows that the Lighthawk family has long supplied the champions and war leaders for the Elven Royals.   Lighthawks often appeared as guards of emissaries of the Royal family- that is how they are known in his region of Belgica.   At least one other Lighthawk had fallen to the Huns, because an Elven hunter, complete with sturdy leather armor, bow and short sword, was hung on the wall, and his belt bore the family crest.

The other symbols Brennus can identify indicate a member of the royal household itself- the Taurvants.  There was no body here, but there was armor and weapons on display both  of which indicated the Royal house of the Elves.  It must be noted, though, that this family is quite large, and no one recalls the Elves mentioning the recent loss of a prince or princess of their realm.  The extreme Elven longevity can result in six, or even seven, generations of a family being alive at the same time, and having living patriarchs and matriarchs in their midst binds together 4th-cousins more tightly than is seen in Human clans.  The Royal Family of the Ardennes has over 200 members.

As for the rest, nothing can be said except “it looks Elven”.  The armor, weapons, equipment and clothing left behind cannot be linked to any lineage known by the party.

Heolstor left Petra to the task of checking elven regalia against her memory. The Saxon knew nothing of these elven houses, beyond what he'd learned just now by way of Brennus' and Petra's knowledge. The place he'd come from was far and afield from the Ardennes: their elvish ways and society alien to him.

Instead, he left to see this delegation... A mob, really, by the size of it. Centaurs, franks, and elves intermingled with other curiosities. Like a water sprite, whom Heolstor found familiar.

"Perhaps something else has bound you to this course."

She laughed and smiled warmly, tip-toed to reach his cheek, then kissed him there.  "You are perceptive, sir, is all I will note."   

She didn't have near Brennus' knowledge of specific houses, only general about Elvish customs and religion.  Apparently returning the gear to heirs and loved ones was impractical.  It must be enough that she supervised and administered rites for the deceased, may Frey and Arduina guide their spirits.

With no more ado, Petra accompanied Heolstor to join the highly cosmopolitan crowd.

Hermod has no real part in big meetings.  He knows this.  He works on a much more individual level, he does not attend conferences or debate strategy.

But on the other hand... there are matters he has to attend to.  He looks out over the western fields as Petra greets Heolstor.

Is that a Unicorn?

Petra's attention is on Heolstor.  Hermod spreads his wings and in moments is soaring over the gatehouse.  He turns towards the west, to the low grassy rise where the Unicorn is waiting.

Time for a meeting of the minds, a comparing of notes.