Tidings of the East

Almost all of Savarica itself, the far northern kingdom and the edge of the known world, was divided into five sections. Naturally those sections were the Five Houses. Each of those Five Houses was ruled by its respective family, its count or countess as each saw fit. And as a result, it formed five smaller factions inside the overall realm itself. There had been wars in the past, between the five, but overall those five made up the fairly peaceful whole.
With one exception. The city of Usadel.
Usadel was the merchant trading city that stood in the high, icy mountain regions, in the branch of one range that reached halfway through Savarica’s landscape. Neatly cutting Savarica’s geography in half, the thrust of mountains separated the two higher houses, Vadirska and Pandark, from House Davardi’s higher lands.
In years past, brave merchants and travelers had cut a series of paths through the mountains there, passes and a few outposts on the rough roads. Though these mountains were considerably more tame than the actual outside wilds, beyond Savarica’s borders, they were still hazardous, and not to be traveled by the defenseless.
Usadel itself was nothing more than a massive trading outpost, a large city comprised of merchants, rangers, and brave men and dwarves who dared to live there. It was the single most important trading city though, in the realm, for it was the only route between the higher and lower land houses, and thus naturally a place where merchants could come to sell wares to passing persons of both sides. Staying aloft from joining to any one house of Savarica, the tough city ruled itself mostly through a board of leading innkeepers and merchants, a semi-democracy in itself.
It was here that the four dwarf brothers, coming out of the wild eastern edge of the Northern Wastes, arrived after some weeks of hard travel through the passes and narrow roads. Thibble Strongofarm and his three younger brothers reached the eastern gates of the city itself some weeks out from their dwarven city in the east, all of them sighing with relief to see the long expected gates getting closer.
The snow was still coming down in mass amounts, the high winds screaming and blowing it about until the very air appeared hard and white. The gray clouds overhead continued to snow and sleet down upon Usadel and the four coming travelers, forcing even Thibble to crouch down low on the cart and pull his cloak hood low over his brow. The other three struggled on beside the wagon, shielding their faces from the harsh weather and grumbling loudly as they went.
“Let’s hope fer some meat and cold ale at the governor’s house, lads!” Thrable Roundshield shouted aloud, barely to be heard (and dwarves were not a quiet folk either). “I tell ya we’ll have something besides cold bread and melted snow this night!”
“Bah, ya fool! There is no governor’s house in Usadel!” Prable growled back, using his shield to cover his face as he trudged forward behind the cart.
“Enough of it!” Thibble shouted, “There’s a council building in the middle a’ town, where all the high and mighty merchants rest and talk and spend their gold, and that be where we’re goin’!”
“And I suppose we’ll just stride in and tell ‘em all, ‘Excuse me, but ye’ve got sorcerers and goblins loose just outside yer borders! Send support!’”
“That was the idea when we left!” Thibble replied, with a grim chuckle. The others quieted at that.

Like all the other entrances, the east gates of Usadel were set into stone, massive and imposing to any comers. The road itself sloped down into a sort of snowy ravine, cut in between two mountains, and met the gates where they appeared in the stone of the mountains themselves. Though half covered in ice, the steel and iron of the gates glinted dimly in what light there was.
As the small company of dwarven travelers reached those gates, amid the howling storm and waist deep in the icy snow, the sturdy wagon stopped just before the gates. Moving ahead, Thrable grabbed the heads of the poor dwarf ponies, who were probably half frozen at that time. Stroking them and seeing in just what shape they were, he called out to them soothingly through his beard.
“AHOY! GATES!” Thibble, now standing up on his cart with hands on his sides, shouted up at the iron and steel plated gateway. It took the sentries a long moment to hear him.
At least, though some moments later, a human head appeared at the small window above the entry and threshold, glaring out at the newcomers. The window being cut right into the rock over the gates made it a formidable gatehouse, but even then the dwarf brother noted grimly that the human sentry above him had a bow and arrow in hand, ready for use.
“Dwarves!” He called out, looking down at the obvious below. “Name yourselves, pray, and your business here!”
Thibble growled. “I be Thibble Strongofarm, of the Clan of Bronze! These be my three young brothers come with me to Usadel!” He spat, “Our business is our own, man! Open the blasted gates, it’s cold out here!”
The human head disappeared back inside, and after a minute’s more chilly wait, the gates creaked, and slowly slid open and inwards. Thibble, not about to be picky while he and his brothers and ponies froze outside, hurried the cart in. Without further ado, Prable and Pibble, still behind the wagon, quickly dashed and scrambled up on the back of the wagon as they rode through the gateway and into the tough city, shaking ice from their beards.
“Oooooooh.” Pibble commented solemnly as the gates shut behind them, and quickly, shoved by half a dozen men in dark metal armor.
Prable, who was slightly more observant than his scatter-brained brother, noted with interest (and only as a dwarf would) that the armor the guard of the city wore was rough and heavy, but still quite effective. Typical human armor. And very unlike the usual heavy leather, steel, and fur the usual Savarica guards wore.
Because technically, Usadel wasn’t really even an official part of Savarica, but a city-state on its on that lived in the middle of it. Grunting and giving the humans a suspicious glance, Prable turned his gaze to the front.
The wind lessened considerably once inside the city. Usadel itself was surrounded on all sides by the high, sheer peaks of the mountains, making it naturally walled in from almost every angle. Several watch towers, all well guarded, stood atop the various peaks and ridges overlooking the city which was situated in the bottom of a very small valley, like a fortress. Though Usadel didn’t have much in the way of an army, it had an excellent defense.
The streets of the city were fairly abandoned in such weather, so the cart rolled along freely down the narrow, dark stone streets. Several figures, mostly human, could be seen hurrying through the blizzard in tight, low hooded cloaks, mostly staying out of the wind and ice. As the four of them made their way though, now all four of them up on the cart at various angles, no one spoke, and the four of them merely stared grimly about them. Houses of stone, mostly, though very human in make as their structure said, filled the small valley from one end to the other, inns, shops, and other buildings of state as well. But a small towering house, one bigger by far than all the others, stood roughly in the middle. The center of Usadel.
Few houses were open, and indeed, few shops or inns for that matter. On such a dim, gray, cold day even the toughened citizens of Usadel were hesitant about venturing much out of doors, unless it was the guards and sentries changed shifts or standing high up on the overlooking scout towers, and at the gates. Since technically, Usadel had always been and would always be in enemy territory.
Winding their way along the empty streets and under the shadows of the tall houses, the four dwarves made it to the near center of the small citadel. Upon reaching the open square that made up the marketplace on better days, the large, centering house of the city loomed up ahead, its solid, angular, but strong and sturdy stones staring down expressionlessly.
“Damp looking place, ain’t it?” Prable commented quietly, to no one in particular, though his three brothers heard him.
“U-huh.” Pibble replied, studying the building, stare for stare.
They wheeled creakily across the open, wet square and came to a halt in front of the small iron gates that stood in front of the great building, and Thrable clambered down off his wagon to go and knock loudly on the doors, using the blunt side of his hammer to do so.
“Hoy, in the house! Visitors outside in the rain!” He called out, hoping someone would hear. Apparently they did, for moments later the two iron doors swung open quickly, revealing yet another sentry inside, a grim faced man who gave all four of them looks of suspicion.
“Got the city well-guarded.” Thibble muttered, before standing up on his wagon seat to address the sentry.
He bowed from his stand on the cart. “Thibble Strongofarm, at yer service!”
“Where from? Are these your kin?” The guard, not impressive, gestured gruffly to the other three.
“My brothers.” Undaunted, Thibble smiled faintly in his attempt to be a diplomat. “We come from the Clan of Bronze, some weeks east of here. We’ve come before, we’re not strangers here.”
The sentry grunted. “What business?”
“To see the head of yer merchant’s guild, what do ye think we’d be knocking on yer door fer?!” Prable suddenly spoke up, irritation showing in his voice. “If ya want you can kick us out as soon as we’re done! Better yet?”
The sentry’s eye narrowed darkly, but after a moment’s thought, he stepped back, his long, slender spear in hand, and gestured for the dwarves to enter into the courtyard.
“Leave your cart and ponies here in the courtyard before going in.” The guard instructed, opening the door a little wider for the small, sturdy cart to slip in. Nodding thankfully, Thibble urged on his ponies and the cart rattled in.
The courtyard was barren of most signs of life, filled with silver stone and white snow and ice only. The wind gently whistled through it, blowing up some snow in little dunes here and there. A few guards stood at attention inside the courtyard, by the gates where apparently that had been roused out of the gatehouse at the sound of the knocking dwarves. The main entrance to the house itself was but a small door up a few stairs, a very simple entrance. It was no grand palace, and indeed very little in Usadel was built for beauty.
As the rolled the cart into the courtyard and stopped some yards from the door, Prable grunted in the back.
“There was some large party been here recently.” He noted, looking at the snow. It was indeed full of tracks, as though just a few hours ago some large amount of men and horses had been here. The snow falling as heavily as it was, it would indeed have to recent to be there at all.
Thrable cast a glance back at his brother. “What of it? This is a large center house for the whole city, ya thickhead! There’s people comin’ and goin’ all day!”
“Not on a day like this, not that many!” Prable returned. Pibble nodded vigorously in agreement.
The four of them scrambled down from the cart, Thibble included. As all of them hit the snow, already waist deep for such people as they, Thibble glanced about for a moment before he spotted what he wanted.
“Hoy, Prable!” He suddenly called out to his younger brother, “Take the ponies and stable them there! That has the looks of a stable, no doubt!” He gestured to what was indeed a stable entrance across the courtyard, on the far side. “Poor beasts are soaked, tired and cold, I don’t doubt!”
“Bah! Go about it yerself! Going to go in and warm up yerselves while I sit out here and keep the beasts warm, eh?”
“Get to it, or I swear I’ll put YOU in the harness when these poor beasts fall over with the cold!” He looked around, grimly. “And Thrable and Pibble will help me do it!”
“Aye, that’s for sure!” Thrable commented. Pibble wisely avoided any comment on the subject, however, and busied himself scurrying up to the door. Grumbling in his black beard, Prable busied himself removing the harness and leading the soaked ponies off to the stables, while Thrable and Thibble followed their youngest brother up to the door, before disappearing inside.

The inside opening hall was a plain but comfortable room, cut out of the stone and covered with fur rugs, with a fire blazing on a hearth at the far end. Various chairs were set up against the walls, as though it was a sort of meeting house as well in the front rooms. A few banners hung from the wooden ceiling, mostly ones no dwarf recognized. Thibble guessed it was the banners of various merchant or shop guilds in the city. Usadel was not a pretty or light hearted town, but it was definitely a very strong town, and definitely backed by powerful, rich merchants of all kinds. The powerhouse of Usadel was not a small political force.
However, all three of the dwarves noted at once they were not alone in the opening room. Nearly half a dozen men stood here and there, mostly around the fire, talking in low voices and looking up as the dwarves entered. Thibble noted quickly that they were all dressed in armor of blue and violet…a symbol of what could be a Savarica House.
Thibble took the queue and bowed in their direction. “Good day, friends!” He called out cheerily, “Where is the merchant’s council? Here today, I don’t doubt?”
For a moment, the armed men looked at each other curiously, before one of them in particular stepped up. A captain of sorts, probably.
“The high leaders are now talking with our liege lady.” He offered, pointing, “In the next room. Two or three of the leading merchants are in there if you wish to see them…but they might be busy. Our lady, the countess, is speaking with them.”
Thibble Strongofarm bowed again. “Thank ye, sirs, we’ll take our chances.” Striding off towards the door, the other two followed and entered the side chamber.
Inside it was much like the former chamber, only perhaps smaller and warmer due to several fired hearths scattered here and there, with shuttered windows in the cool walls. In that room, a large wooden table was set up in the middle, surrounded by chairs, like it was indeed a small council room.
Only two or three of the chairs, however, were filled with human people, who all turned to look at the newcomers as they entered.
The dwarves all bowed this time. They easily recognized that the lady, the young woman who sat at the far end, was certainly no head merchant. The three men with her could be, though, even if the an older man there appeared to be her councilor.
“Who is this?” The nearest man, a middle-aged, black haired man with a short beard looked over. He was dressed in fine clothes, probably a richer merchant, Thibble guessed. They all looked slighty irritated at being disturbed.
“I am Thibble Strongofarm, good sirs…and lady!” He tacked on, “These are my brothers, Thrable, and Pibble.” He gestured to each in turn, who nodded and stood up again.
Before any of the humans could speak, the dwarf cut them off and got right to the point. “We bring grave tidings from the Bronze Dwarf Clan in the East Mountains, sirs, and we’re heading to the Savarica council in Ilelphosta to inform those there of…some very urgent matters.” He glanced from one face to the other, looking for expressions.
The men all seemed rather skeptical, having three dwarves walk in unannounced and claim they had dire tidings, but the young woman, now standing up, was smiling faintly. Her hair was dark, with perhaps a red tinge in it, a dark auburn, and her face was pale white. Her green-blue eyes smiled to the small creatures.
“I am Countess India, of House Vadirska.” She informed them, “Glad to meet you, Thibble Strongofarm, and your brothers.” She nearly gestured to a chair for them to seat themselves, when she realized that might be a bad idea. They might be able to barely see over the table at them if they took a seat at the table.
She studied them for a moment, the older man near her whispered something in her ear.
“Ach, Sesircas, they cannot be our enemies! Calm down!” She seemed amused by that thought. “They are not goblins!”
“Humph!” Thrable grunted, standing up a little straighter and glaring at the older councilor suspiciously, as though that might be an insult. And to most dwarves, indeed it would be considered much less than complimentary. Sesircas, the careful politician as always, studied them just as cautiously.
“What news do you bring?” The countess asked.
The dwarves were silent for a moment, looking at each other. “Madam…we’re instructed only to tell the council members.” Thrable bluntly stated, clearly trying to decide whether he should or not.
Countess India smiled wider. “I AM a council member, and one of the main five. Let me assure you. What do you have to tell? If it’s rather important, I’d wish to know now. We have some rather…disturbing news as well.”
Thibble watched her, and her councilor, for a moment, and then nodded grimly. She was indeed a countess, there was no doubting, which meant she was also indeed a high Savarica council member. He bowed.
“Very well, countess!” He replied gruffly, “Tis a long tale, though.”
“We have time.” One of the merchants spoke up this time, apparently also involved. The head dwarf nodded.
“As you wish, sirs…and lady. I bring news and an urgent message from the Bronze Clan…”