~ Meeting Galainir ~
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The sun rose gradually over the ocean’s horizon, casting long rainbows in the early morning mist. The Factional leaders waited anxiously at the the bow of the ship, waiting to make landfall. An hour later, they caught their first glimpse of the port of Dourrough, and as their ship sailed smoothly over the mild waves of the Great Northern Sea, it soon began to make its final course corrections as it coasted gently through the open gates of the harbor’s wooden boom. Scanning the shoreline, the Faction leaders recognized the pennants fluttering above the crowds on shore. They were the colors of none other than the Lady Galainir!
“She must really have the townspeople’s loyalty, for such a display as this!” Prince Jarius declared. Then, muttering toward Jarl Eindrick, “Those simple-minded Lenfels seem to be willing to follow just about anyone, other than Triphian, it would seem.” Lenfel’s Lord was too busy staring mouth-agape at the scene before him to notice the jab.
In a few minutes, they were alongside the pier, and the Lenfel dockhands were securing the vessel with ropes tossed ashore by the crew.
As they descended the gangplank, Galainir herself met them on the pier, escorted by her personal men-at-arms.
(LCC) Arriving at Durrough. by Mark of Falworth, on Flickr
After exchanging traditional greetings, the four then made their way to the great stone courthouse in the center of the town. Once the town militia had set a perimeter around the building, the leaders were led by Galainir into a small room of tan sandstone, with a smooth tiled floor and a row of beautiful stained glass windows. Apparently, she had been given this area by Dourrough’s leader, Duke Cartney, as a sort of headquarters.
Once inside, Jhirian Eindrik began the meeting with his usual diplomatic proficiency. "Lady Galainir, your intentions seem sincere, and you obviously have support of the people. However, the three of us have no idea who you are or from whence you came, and we have come to regrettably inform you that the ancient laws state that the crown may only be claimed if proof of royal heritage can be made. Now, since you have no such proof we must unfor..."
"My Lord, I believe your assumption is made in haste," Galainir politely interrupted with a slight smile.
“Grimlang…” she said, motioning to her servant, who was carrying a small, ornately beaded leather pouch.
As the faction leaders looked on in astonishment, she carefully withdrew a golden chain, fastened to which was a large, beautiful golden signet ring. Unclasping the chain, she removed the ring, and presented it in outstretched hand for their inspection.
The trio gasped in amazement as they laid their eyes on the on the gleaming ornament before them. It was a large ring of solid gold, which glinted and sparkled even in the half light of the chamber. Engraved in the face of the ring was the unmistakable seal of the King!
"Fetch any reputable historian," Galainir continued. "And he will confirm that this is the final ring of the ancient five rings of King Alphundus, four of which were distributed among his descendents. Alphundus’ ring and the three belonging to the founding fathers of Loreos, Lenfald, and Garheim have all been recovered and are currently being kept in the royal palace."
As Lorean, Triphian, and Eindrik struggled to take this all in, Galainir continued on, her confidence growing with each moment.
“The ring before you was given to Alphundus’ daughter, princess Rosethorn, before she fled the country for fear of her life from her half-brothers. They, of course, made stories up about her and even dared to blame the death of the king on her in order to keep her away forever, and they succeeded. For many generations, Rosethorn’s descendants have lived a life of lonely exile. The ring has been passed on from one generation to the next, and we have been waiting for the proper time to reveal ourselves. With the untimely death of the king, and none of you willing to allow the other to take the throne, the time seemed right for me to come forward with my story, and to give the people the leadership they deserve.”
The three Faction leaders stared in awe. Galainir was actually a legitimate heir! They had never seen such a confident, compelling, and beautiful woman. As she stood before them, flushed with the passion of a leader taking claim of her birthright, the noble blood coursing through her veins like a stampede of Loreesi stallions, they couldn’t help but feel the same sentiments of the clamorous populace outside the walls of the courthouse. Perhaps she was indeed destined to become Queen of Roawia!
Gathering their wits about them, they began the formality of verifying the authenticity of the ring, though in their minds, there was no doubt about the validity of her story.
Within a few days, messengers returned from the royal palace. The ring was an exact match.
As they officially presented the new heir to the town of Durrough, the crowds roared in approval, and a coronation date was set. Dispatches were sent to invite all who were able to attend the coronation ceremony, and across the land, people began preparations to celebrate the crowning of their new queen.
Presenting the Heir by AK_Brickster, on Flickr
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Stay tuned for an important announcement regarding the coronation ceremony and subsequent celebration!
Story by Friskywhiskers and AK_Brickster, MOCs by Mark of Falworth, Friskywhiskers, and AK_Brickster
(and no I don't mean literally jump into bed)
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