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The Death of Artheim
Now Artheim son of Carc ruled the lands of Kvatch from one end to the other, that is, from Gottsha West to the holds of the Weald that bordered on Skingrad. He had a son, named Banathil, who had a son, named Irroth the Lark. All were strong men, skilled with weapons, crowned with red gold, virtues of Colovia incarnate. Now Artheim was a proud and pious king, and the state of the Empire, left in the hands of the cowardly men of Nibeth, saddened him deeply. So one day he rode out with the best of his men to contest the Inner City. He rode, until he reached the banks of the great lake Rumare, and saw the eight islands, the brightly painted walls, the towers beyond number, and he saw the golden-white spire of the Emperors. So said he to his men, "There we will go, and bring piety and righteousness, and all who follow me will be rewarded handsomely, they will receive eight red bulls, and a boar's weight in red gold, and a hands-length of godsblood from the Inner City's vaults." And his men cheered and followed him, and this was one of the Forty-Eight Futile Charges of the Inner City.
There on the bridge to the Inner City, which is of white stone and crosses water for fifteen hare-paces, Artheim son of Carc met with another king, this was Rein Manellis, the beggar-king of Brumath. Now Rein Manellis had sold himself in debt to the Nibeth, and he guarded their gate from the warriors of the west. Said Artheim: "Well-met, fellow king. We seek passage to the Inner City, to visit its shrines and temples, decorated with fountains and garlands of flowers, and to bathe in the waters of the lake Rumare, as is the custom in our times." And Rein Manellis believed nont one word, but he feared the king of Kvatch, whose host was much greater than his own, and whose prowess with sword or bow far outpaced his own. "Well-met, son of Carc," he replied, "Sadly, you may not enter the city at this moment, for within its brightly painted walls and towers beyond number there rages a plague, the likes of which I have never seen: each sword that is brought into the city will spring into the hand of its owner, to lash out to his companions, and all drink that is brought into the city will dry out in a day, so that all are thirsty, and each horse that enters the city will break free, and drown itself in the lake Rumare. But follow me, Artheim Hill-Born, for I camp here in a palace on the lake's edge, it has been built for me by the moths of the Nibeth, and within it are enough beds for three times your company, and enough food and wine too."
And so Artheim and his men retreated into the moth-palace of Rein Manellis, where they feasted until deep into the night. But treachery was in Rein Manellis' heart, and during the very height of the feast he gave a secret signal to his men, so that all rose up and killed the man who sat next to him, and Rein Manellis slew Artheim who sat next to him, and in this way all the men of Kvatch were slain. Then the Nibeth men came forth with copper bowls and copper dishes, catching the blood of Artheim, for they treasure the blood of kings in their secret poisons.
When the news of Artheim's death reached Banathil, son of Artheim, he mourned his death, and Irroth the Lark too mourned his death. Said Irroth to his father: "We must make great battle on the fool beggar-king, Rein Manellis." But his father said: "We cannot, for all our great warriors have been killed in treason, and Brumath of the Snow is far away, and on the path lie the kingdom of Skingrad and Chorral, both unkind to us, and besides, Rein Manellis has the protection of the treacherous Nibeth, who outnumber us a hundred to one, and know of secret poisons." But Irroth let anger grow in his heart, and his thoughts were of vengeance.
So one day Irroth heard of the son of Rein Manellis, Vythu the Far-Handed, who made pilgrimage to Sancre Tor, to ask for the guidance in matters of marriage. So Irroth and waited on Vythu Far-Handed along the road to Sancre Tor, where he killed him, and this was one of the Eight Inconclusive Pilgrimages to Sancre Tor. And when the news of Vythu's death reached the court of Rein Manellis, he was mournful, and he sent message to his mother's second cousin, Cirthes King of Chorrol, saying: "You who is kin to me, now hear of this injustice done against me: Irroth son of Banathil, lord of the Kvetchi, has slain my son Vythu Far-Handed along the road to Sancre Tor. He slew him along the road, caring not for the sanctity of his errand, nor for the borders of the kingdom of Chorral, which is marked by many tall stones with intricate carvings. Join me now in waging war on the Kvetchi, for we are both sinned against!"
And Cirthes of Chorral readily agreed, for he had fought the Kvetchi before, and held a deep hatred for them. So Rein Manellis and Cirthes of Chorral called upon many heroes and companions, they called upon Mathis son of Mares, Bater daughter of Udiel, Ovver son of Wechv, Uiher son of Wechv, Chwlm son of Wechv, Tehis and his dogs, numbering twenty-nine, Hachs Fox-headed, Cahar Three-Eyed, Malor Elf-Blood, Bhuttha Blood-Elf, the giants of Llur, the giants of Llor, but not the giants of Llyr, for none know of that place, Hur son of Gohr, Gohr himself, Cavar Flame-Wreath, who was bathed in the Dragonfires as a child, and whose hair was now ever a flame, so that he could not sleep on a mattress of straw nor down, but always slept on a stone, Calumn the Kothri, Schier-Je the Cat-Man, Asterion son of Morihaus, who fought the winged hordes of Ayleidoon, Pwlell son of Harsh Cucri, who once said to his wife that if his son were less strong than a stone, he would break his back, and if he was less swift than the water, he would break his back too, Chradzm the Dwarf, who never spoke, but held a box of pine wood that spoke for him, Nahar daughter of Lall, Lall herself, and lastly they called upon Hermwnthe-of-Thistles, defender of Chorral, whose hair was as thistle down, and who wreathed herself in thistles, and whose spear was tipped with a thistle thorn, the reason for which is not to be mentioned in this story. So the host of two kings set off to lay siege on the Kvatch, and so ends the story of the death of Artheim, son of Carc, who, residing now in the unexplored country, plays no part in the great and significant events that were to follow.
The Siege of Kvatch
So it is said that for the sin of murdering Vythu Far-Handed, prince of Brumath, on the pilgrim's road to Sancre Tor, Irroth of the Kvetchi was rightly cursed, and for this insult the kings of Chorral and Brumath made pact, swearing to defeat the lords of Kvatch in righteous battle, to take the city on the hill, and pillage and burn, as is their right. These kings they were Cirthes Oath-Oak, and Rein Manellis the Beggar, and their army was led by Hermwnthe-of-Thistles, and consisted of many heroes and saints of great renown. Also the king of the Kvetchi was Banathil, who hid his face in sorrow. Let it be known that all this transpired.
Thus the mighty host of Chorral and Brumath arrived at the hill-walls of Kvatch, and saw that the city was the mightiest fortress that has ever been, built on a cliff that none could scale, and girdled with eight-and-one wooden walls, and many towers. They set about attacking this city, and did so for nine months, and this was one of the Fifteen Ineffectual Sieges of the City of Kvatch. And after nine months had passed, Hermwnthe-of-Thistles said this to Cirthes king of Chorral: "This siege will be without end, for the city of Kvatch has never yielded to a hostile force, it is a rock, firm and uncompromising, it is unshakable, and no force on earth could break its wall of stone, open its oaken gates. I ask of thee, king of Chorral, call for the Shore-King to settle our dispute, for he is both wise and impartial."
So Cirthes of Chorral called for Cioracet of the Trident Coast, who is called the Shore-King. He was both wise and impartial, staunch defender against the Elves and the hand of Thras, and knowledgeable of the stars. Sad, the fate of Cioracet and his kin, which is told in many other fables, and need not be repeated here! Now Cioracet called for a council, and listened to grievances, and made wise truce: "Each will choose a champion, and he will set off to complete a task, and it will be a most arduous task, requiring mastery of the chivalric virtues, the likes of which we have not seen since the days of the Nords, that is to say, when they lived in Old-Wood-Stead. And the one who completes this task, and brings back proof that he has done so, will be of the party of the virtuous, and the justified, and the other will be in disgrace, and his party will give tribute in foul blood-money." To which both assailant and defender agreed, and both they sent forth their champions, they were Irroth the Lark and Hermwnthe-of-Thistles. "Your task will be to go to the stronghold of Carachibekav, where the Ayleid king Chir-Al-Al-Boal presides over a court of dead men, and kill this king, and bring back his head to me."
So both Irroth and Hermwnthe set out, they traveled far over the Barrow-Lands and the Heath and the Petty-Desert, till they came to the land they call Gemha-av, that is to say, west of Sancre Tor. There Irroth confronted Hermwnthe, and spoke thus: "My hand is virtuous, though it is covered in blood. Return, Hermwnthe, for I have heard of your many deeds and think you far above all knights of your station, and I would not relish to kill you." But Hermwnthe cared not for such talk: "Child of the Kvetchi! You think you can defeat me in combat? I am Hermwnthe-of-Thistles, killer of giants, of men, of elves, killer of demons, killer of drakes! When I was but a youth, I made ancient and hot-headed oath, to never ignore challenge, and for every challenge I have met, I have been victorious!" There Hermwnthe defeated Irroth the Lark on the road to Gemha-av, not by her terrible thistle-tipped spear, but by the force of her armored hands alone.
After bringing low the Lark, Hermwnthe did continue to the hidden halls of Carachibekav, where the Ayleid king Chir-Al-Al-Boal presides over a court of dead men. There Hermwnthe made herself known at the gates, and the keeper at the gate was a dead man, and the workers of the stables were dead men, and the servants who brought her wine were dead men. So she came before Chir-Al-Al-Boal, who took the shape of a copper snake with a boar's head. Thus he spoke: "Many the child-fools enter my domain, and I have piled their skulls high, making from their remains a fine tea, the likes of which would give a weakling the strength of thirty mer. Today, I am the zenith of Ayleidoon of old, carrying on my back one hundred and eight wings, and speaking eight secret spells, and knowing the names of nineteen beings from the outer void who will jump at my command an smite my enemy, by fire, stone, and lightness. Have you come to challenge me, mortal?" To answer such challenge on the day of hospitality is in clear opposition to the Law of Three-Days, the Fifth and the Sixth Pennant of Hospitality, and proper Knightly Conduct. But Hermwnthe was bound by ancient and hot-headed oath, to never ignore or deny challenge, and also she was proud and afraid of nothing. Thus she spoke: "Yea, I have come to kill you, and this will serve in the making of righteousness, and jrighteousness come, to all my many enemies."
There a fierce battle was fought, in which Chir-Al-Al-Boal applied all the secret and foul knowledge of Ayleidoon, changing his shape many times, into a beast, and a bug, into a boar, and a fox, and a wolf, and a hand, and an eye, and a rat, and a snake, and a cloud, and a tree, and a tiger, and a badger, and a fox again, and a frog, and so on. But nothing would prevail, for Hermwnthe countered it all with piety and force of arms, prevailing, and so she carried the head of Chir-Al-Al-Boal on the end of her spear back to the besieged walls of Kvatch.
There she was feasted, and the hosts of Bruma and Chorral gathered round, and feasted her. So Cioracet Tide-Rock made ready to speak judgment, when Irroth the Lark came forth and objected to proceedings. "Hrmwenthe-of-Thistles has acted against he virtuous code, so I have perceived! I have followed her in secret still, and saw she enter the halls of Chir-Al-Al-Boal, and feasted on his wine (thus accepting his hospitality), and when the forenamed Chir-Al-Al-Boal presented himself, and issued his challenge formulaic, Hrmwenthe-of-Thistles answered him in the affirmative, breaking the Law of Three-Days, the Fifth and the Sixth Pennant of Hospitality, and proper Knightly Conduct! I demand a duel, to settle rights!"
Cioracet, finding no fault in young Irroth's argument, allowed this duel to transpire. So once more Irroth the Lark and Hrmwenthe-of-Thistles met in battle, and this duel was long, for Irroth was now well-prepared, and Hermwnthe was still weak from her dispute with the Elf-King. There they contested, first by the horse and lance, then by the great mace, then by the big sword, then by the little sword, then by biting-dagger, then by the spear, a weapon for which Hermwnthe had great affection. She wielded the weapon named Thistle-Thorn, and with it she inflicted on Irroth a terrible wound to the face, so that he would never again dare show it to the likes of man, and the wound grew infected so that people now speak of Irroth, the Festering.
And Cioracet awarded victory to the forces of Chorral and Brumath, and the Kvetchi were forced into the giving of blood-money. And though Banathil of Kvatch had planned to give an offer of the blood of his son Irroth, the latter had fled, ashamed of his wound, into the wastes of the north, and Banathil washed the gold in the blood of a pig, and all were satisfied. So ends the tale of the siege of Kvatch, Bold Mountain, widely recognized as one of the more entertaining and educational sieges of that august city.
The Blood-Money Siege
Rein Manellis, Beggar-King, had profited much of his latest feud with the Kvetchi, so much that upon returning to Brumath he had with him a cart piled high with reddish gold, upon which was spilled the blood of a pig. But the King of the Snows was not careful with his gold, so that he lost it when the hold slipped in the crossing of the river Scahat, and all washed to the lake Rumare save for a handful of blood-gold, and since then the river Scahat is known as the Miser-River, where Zenithar takes his toll. So Rein Manellis said, "Woe upon me, for ten-and-one years ago I borrowed of Heimth, king of Skingrad, a great sum of money, and today I must return him. But I know of many vexing tricks, many fool-words I have learned from the Nibeth, and I will make the Coin-King do my bidding yet!" And so Rein Manellis traveled on to the court of the king of Skingrad, proud Heimth, who is know to us as the Coin-King, for his vaults were filled with the yellow gold of those who trade in Nibeth.
So Rein Manellis arrived at the court of plenty, where the city of Skingrad rules the trade-ford, its bridges spanning the Golden Way, moon-banners aloft, iron roofs and brave towers. Grand the domain of Skingrad, whose denizens know the joys of commerce, yet never forget to remember the Ideals of Colovia, bravery and piety! There Rein Manellis walked the Bridge of Tragedies to the court of Heimth Five-Swords. And so said the King of Brumath: "Heimth! Throne-brother, I come before you this day to end the debt that has grown heavy on my back. Heavy this debt has been, and I true thought to pay you back, but was waylaid by treachery, of Cirthes, bearded king of Chorral, and his horde." Replied Heimth king of Skingrad, "Of what do you speak? Cirthes has always been a faithful ally to me, has always helped me, as I have helped him, and as all such things hold together, I have always been an ally to Cirthes of Chorral." Replied Rein Manellis, "But so it has been! The blood-coin I had earned through the siege of Kvatch, he took it, and hid it in his keep, and I only could hold to a single handful, see here the proof!" and the Beggar-king showed the hand of blood-gold he kept.
And Heimth was lured, for he desired for him the wealth of Chorral, and needed little convincing. And he called together his host, which consisted of Marr son of Alhm, Taruth Skull-Cleaver, Mahn who once decided upon the life of an Emperor, keeping tally of his virtues and faults, Corct and his seventeen sons, each one more powerful than the last, and Anatha of the Seven Brooks, and the Eight Dogs of Haml Grave-Child, Haml Grave-Child herself, and Ahad son of Mehad, and Catri son of Petr, and Neneit the Sutchi, and Comar the Hald-Man, and Potri who once spent seven days in a wine-cask, and bitterly regretted that of all his great feats this was the one men remembered most, and Masatre, and Katriko, and Mutak who never speaks one word where ten will suffice, and Horemheb Song-Guard, and Maed of Sarchal, and many more heroes of great renown besides, whose names and deeds do not need be tallied in full, and as leader of this host he called Batûn Half-Giant, more powerful than any man.
So the host of Skingrad marched on Chorral, and at the gates of that secluded city they made their demands, that the blood-soiled money be brought to them in full, and that the king of Chorral come forth and kneel, and that the children of the king of Chorral come forth and kneel unto the third generation to the lords of Skingrad and Bruma. But Cirthes of Chorral refused, and sent out his champion, Hermwnthe-of-Thistles, to defend his honor. And furthermore he called this dispute to be settled beneath the eaves of Chorral's sacred oak, where all misbehavior be punished by a force Divine, which is higher than their own, and beyond reproach.
Come forth Batûn, majestic. Batûn! His mother a giant, his father a larger-than-average man, thus enabling their union! Gigantic warrior, legs not unlike the trunks of a tree, arms the likes of which the gathered hosts of Colovian knighthood had never seen until that moment!
There Hermwnthe-of-Thistles and Batûn Half-Giant first conversed, and exchanged pleasantries and grave insult, until the hour of blood had come. Batûn, he wielded a spear-club of great size, which was a lance not unlike a tree, around which he had wrapped with copper bands the bones of the fish that live in the great sea between the Land of the Nords and the Land of the Nords Before, which they call Old-Wood-Stead. Hermwnthe-of-Thistles, wielded her silver spear, which was topped with a thistle thorn, the reason for which is irrelevant to this tale, but is regaled in many stories that can be heard in the inns from Beaurichal to Vvey.
In battle fierce they cleft the ground, and brought low that which stands tall, for Hermwnthe knew of a secret way to strike and draw blood from a stone, and Batûn was half-a-giant, powerful. Then when only the great oak of Chorral still stood, Hermwnthe saw opportunity, and struck Batûn's right hand from his arm, and Batûn disgraced himself, crawling and begging for mercy. But as he crawled and begged for mercy, his left hand hid within the roots of the great oak a secret poison, made by the men of Nibeth from the blood of Artheim the King Betrayed, to seep in the heart of the Arbor Hold. And this was one of the Twelve Dishonorable Acts carried out by a Half-Man on behalf of an otherwise virtuous Ruler of Colovia.
So the armies of Heimth and Rein Manellis were defeated, and they were made to pay heavy tribute for their greed and folly. And the kingdom of Chorral lived in peace and prosperity for the next two years and three moons, but no longer, for the poisons of Nibeth know the hour and act accordingly. So ended the Blood-Money Siege, which was in many ways disgraceful, save when its participants show proper regard to the virtues of Colovian knighthood.