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All content of this story is copyright {2014} by Returning_Writer_Guy and is my intellectual property. This is purely a work of fiction and fantasy and not based on any truthful events. No individuals were harmed as none of the individuals in these stories exist. This story is not to be redistributed under any circumstances without my express written permission.
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Rael sat at the long, ornate dinner table in the main dining hall with his long legs stretched out before him, leaning back in his chair as he rolled a small apple around in his hand. Selm, his whiskers newly trimmed and looking determined, watched him quietly, waiting for the young Nobleman to speak.
The Knight had fully expected to have some distractions when he arrived home. He hadn't been to IronWing Manor in a long time, and so much was left undone from his father's death. He'd even found himself glad for the excuse to return, pleased at the prospect of seeing his old home and seeing to some odds and ends that surely needed his attention.
But he hadn't counted on things being so bad. He expected some work, sure; some overseeing minor changes here and there, some time spent with his small folk to bolster their spirits and show them that he was a real and true person, and though he was occupied elsewhere, he did still exist, and he did still care. The truth of the state of his holdings was much worse. So much to do. So much wrong to set right.
And he would do it, too. Personal quest or no, these folk were his responsibility. The truth of it all was, their situation, and the state of his home, was his fault. Father had felt sure that things would run smoothly without his presence, but they'd both overestimated Jonor's loyalty and honesty, and underestimated his laziness and greed. It would take time, and work, but Rael meant to set things right with House IronWing, restore his home and his people and his honor to what it once was. If it meant delaying his search for answers...so be it. He would still search, but he would do it as he settled the House affairs.
The first of which had been bringing Jonor to the city guard in Trelling's Rest. Rael had escorted the Steward personally, as he would brook no mistake or mishap on the way. He and two of his House guardsmen brought the Steward, shackled and chained, to the great city to be delivered. Jonor had sniveled and whimpered, all sense of dignity abandoned as if he were on a death march. Which he very well may have been.
Rael hadn't been to the city in nearly four years. It was good to return.
Trelling's Rest, so named for High King Trelling, Trelling the Bloodied, Trelling the Righteous, Trelling Who Conquers, Trelling the Man-God. Trelling was of the Werdin line, one of the oldest lines of Kings among the Old Fathers who were the root of all Humanity. It was Trelling who first set foot in the Northlands. He founded the first kingdom in his name in the harsh snowed frontier, and tamed DarkFyre Dale for his people before being made one of the new god's and joining the other eleven gods to form the Circle of Twelve. It was said among the Circle of Twelve, Trelling spoke for and championed Humanity, especially his legacy, the Men of the Dale.
So the tales told. Most credited Trelling with founding Trelling's Rest and settling the wild North of DarkFyre Dale. Priests and believers of the Circle of Twelve maintained his godhood. Trelling's Rest was home to many believers of the Twelve, but also hosted followers of the Old Gods, and several churches of The Devout, the faithful children of the Highest Holy. There were also minor small temples to various southern religions and shrines of the Demi-Human races, but these were less popular, and less tolerated.
Trelling's Rest, despite being predominantly Human Dalemen, was full of many cultures and different kinds of people. It was by and far the largest city in the North, the Jewel of the Dale and home of the noble court of DarkFyre Dale for years uncounted. And it showed; though it didn't have the grace and elegance of Ser in The Reach to the east, or the riches and scope of RedStone, capitol of the Leflin Empire far to the south in The Ashlands, Trelling's Rest was a grand city all the same. It was marked by the thickness of her walls and hardness of her stone buildings, built in great tiers arrayed at the foot of the Frozen Keep, seat of power to DarkFyre's King. The tiers of buildings stretched away from the Keep, moving downward and outward until they butted up against GlassWater, a huge lake of crystal clear waters. Warf's and docks were set all along the lake's edge. The lake was the lifeblood of Trelling's Rest, with natural hot springs under the lake keeping the waters from freezing even in the depth of winter. The warmth of the hot springs kept the worst of the winter chill from strangling the city outright, and kept fish plentiful all year long.
After depositing the Steward with the Trelling Guard, Rael was taken with the urge to linger in the city for a time. He'd spent some years in the city during his days as a squire in service to the Knight Brotherhood. Though most of his days were wrapped in duties and training at the Frozen Keep, he visited the town as often as he was able, taking in the sights and smells of the markets, exploring the narrow, dilapidated streets winding between the sturdy buildings, as hard and hearty as the Dalemen themselves. Trelling's Rest was a city of bustle and business, people always moving, always about their business lest they be overtaken by the cold. Men of the Dale were a boisterous lot, outspoken and as fierce as the land they called home. It was good to be here again, to see what it was he'd been fighting so hard to protect.
Alas, his visit had been cut short. Duties called him back to House IronWing, where a meeting with Selm awaited. The two of them went over the books together that night, reviewing Selm's findings in the dining hall as they shared broiled goose, the skin crispy and the fat greasy and filling. They licked their fingers clean, careful not to smear the pages displaying Selm's figures.
Now, nearly an hour later, Rael rolled his apple from one hand to the other, his movement absent and distracted. At last he noted his restless action, and noted Selm noting it. He placed the apple back in the small dinner basket of fruit on the table, and leaned forward with his hands together.
"I'll admit, this is worse than I thought," he said.
"I told you it was bad, Milord," Selm sighed.
"So you did," Rael nodded. "I knew the man was a fool, but this...this is..."
"Exceptional?" Selm suggested.
"Exceptional," Rael agreed. He gave a grim, humorless smile. "I should have taken his head while I had the chance."
"I'm sure the King's Justice could bear your advice in mind," Selm said.
"The King doesn't bear much of anyone's advice in mind these days, from what I hear," Rael said. "Besides, we're broke. We're as good as a lesser House at this point."