The entrance to Val Colline was eclectically decorated to say the least.
Hanging on either side of the entry doors were the decaying corpses of the most recent nobles to have tried her and the bards and assassins they sent after her in order to do so. Men, and unfortunately a woman, who thought they could usurp her. One of them had even tried to turn her son against her. Raphael played along for a while, pretending that he wanted his place as the baron of Val Colline, that he was tired of his mother keeping his inheritance from him. They were able to uncover a whole conspiracy that way. The perpetrators didn’t like her because she wasn’t one of them. Because she helped the people before she lined their pockets. The people showed up in the hundreds to support her and watch her enemies hang. The bodies kept out looters and discouraged visitors. She’d managed to keep the taint at bay somewhat because of it.
It was also heavily guarded with snipers, poised with their fingers on their bowstrings.
Other guards walked back and forth on the ramparts and alerted her the moment they saw the griffon.
Ragnar had returned.
Alyvia didn’t know why she’d permitted him to come back. It had not been too long since she’d released him from her prison. When she heard he wanted to return she was worried and skeptical about the reasoning. Surely if the Wardens had decided on some sort of retribution for her actions it would have been executed when he was retrieved. Ragnar had returned for some reason or another. Maybe looking for some way to assuage his guilt for the hell he caused. He probably came to offer some paltry apology.
She didn’t know how she felt about it. So as she dressed accordingly. Tight leather studded armor, dyed the deepest black, her dark hair in waves down her back. She sat, poised on her throne, gripping a goblet of blood red wine she sipped. She appeared alone but there were several armed individuals in the shadows, including her son.
Their son.
She really should let them know.
Hanging on either side of the entry doors were the decaying corpses of the most recent nobles to have tried her and the bards and assassins they sent after her in order to do so. Men, and unfortunately a woman, who thought they could usurp her. One of them had even tried to turn her son against her. Raphael played along for a while, pretending that he wanted his place as the baron of Val Colline, that he was tired of his mother keeping his inheritance from him. They were able to uncover a whole conspiracy that way. The perpetrators didn’t like her because she wasn’t one of them. Because she helped the people before she lined their pockets. The people showed up in the hundreds to support her and watch her enemies hang. The bodies kept out looters and discouraged visitors. She’d managed to keep the taint at bay somewhat because of it.
It was also heavily guarded with snipers, poised with their fingers on their bowstrings.
Other guards walked back and forth on the ramparts and alerted her the moment they saw the griffon.
Ragnar had returned.
Alyvia didn’t know why she’d permitted him to come back. It had not been too long since she’d released him from her prison. When she heard he wanted to return she was worried and skeptical about the reasoning. Surely if the Wardens had decided on some sort of retribution for her actions it would have been executed when he was retrieved. Ragnar had returned for some reason or another. Maybe looking for some way to assuage his guilt for the hell he caused. He probably came to offer some paltry apology.
She didn’t know how she felt about it. So as she dressed accordingly. Tight leather studded armor, dyed the deepest black, her dark hair in waves down her back. She sat, poised on her throne, gripping a goblet of blood red wine she sipped. She appeared alone but there were several armed individuals in the shadows, including her son.
Their son.
She really should let them know.
03-22-2023, 11:31 AM
