House Langostrov of Longisle is a powerful vassal of House Tyde. They are also a disloyal vassal, having sent no ships when Duchess Margot summoned banners, and dwelling firmly in the ideological camp of Ivan Helianthus. They are a face in want of a fist, yet Arvani laws being as they are, they must remain unpunched awhile longer. But they have many enemies, and the current voyage aims to recruit one such house of enemies to the side of Eswynd and Tyde…

The Shav'arvani tribe of Norrock and the Eswynds do not like each other. As recently as last year they had skirmished, with a Norrock ship taken and a chieftain's brother killed by certain unnamed Eswynds (it was Haakon) who will not be setting foot on Norrock isle, as a result. But as much animosity as Norrock and Eswynd have for one another, the Norrocks *loathe* the Langostrov. 'Blood feud' and 'sworn enemy' are some of the phrases to describe it. Thus, despite bad blood, one week ago, when an Eswynd trader (spy) had discreetly inquired whether the Norrocks might accept a meeting, they had returned with word that Norrock would permit Eswynd to send diplomats.

Norrock Vorod is a bleak landscape to the north-east of the Tydelands and due north of the Isles of the East wind. Grey skies and black seas dominate the eye on approach as the twenty-five ships of the Eswynd escort fleet haul in sails and run out oars to approach the Norrock harbor. Native fishing boats had sullenly brought in nets and withdrawn into the harbor as the Eswynds hove near. Two heavy galleys, and six longships compose the Norrock war fleet, a force equal to that of a small county, but no match for either Eswynd or Langostrov.

As the ship carrying the Marquis' banner goes ashore, they are met (not greeted) by a handful of axemen with pitted iron helms, braided beards, and resentful eyes. Without a word, the warriors will escort the Eswynds from the waterfront to the great hall. The settlement has much in common with Eswynd Rock, though signs of being more frequently raided are abundant: several of the larger timbers used in buildings have clearly survived been burned down and restored more than once, and most sheep pens are empty. Clothing looks old, suggesting scant few new wools have been spun this season.

Norah moves with an imperious dignity. She wears her coronet and her finest gown, a brocade affair with a ruff, looking entirely the part of an Isles marquessa who knows exactly what her place is in the world. She carries herself tall, with an economy of movement. Attendants following behind carry her diplomatic gifts: fine spirits, coffee, chocolate, exotic fruits from the Lyceum.

Oskar follows along Norrock men, keeping his back straight and gaze set in the hall before them. He is dressed in a set of wool, sturdy enough to protect him from the wind of the Mourning Isles, but not enough to protect him in case a fight breaks out. As an additional sign of trust, the Marquis keeps his axe peacebinded at his belt, a custom he learned from the mainlanders. Yet, his coronet shines against the light coming from inside the hall, indicating his status among the Eswynd.

This isn't the first time Medeia has set foot in the hall of an Abandoned clan who didn't want her there, but it is the first time she is doing so without a real sense of certainty for the outcome of the visit. Still, she has prepared carefully and chosen an outfit that balances her Lycene sensibilities with the modesty of the Isles - and some clever armor that looks like jewelry, her hair is braided back fancifully, and her makeup is minimal. She follows behind Oskar and Norah, her own attendants bearing an abundance of medical supplies, including balms and salves to protect from burns and reduce pain, teas blended by her to aid in sleep or taming nausea or promoting breast milk production for new mothers, and a variety of additional supplies for the island's midwives. She holds herself with as much poise as possible, not wavering under any inspection from the Norrock.

The great hall of Norrock Vorod is smaller than that of House Eswynd on the Rock, but shares much in character: built of reclaimed timbers framing wattle and daub walls, around a central firepit. Hides and rushes cover a dirt floor. The king's household has been gathered for the meeting, with dozens of noble warriors and family near enough to advise their chieftain flanking the royal throne. The seat itself is of finely carved pine, heavily inset with cut opalescent shells the mainlanders would call mother-of-pearl. The minor king himself, Janos the Tall, sits on the throne in a maille hauberk and iron helm with a rich red cloak wrapping his shoulders. A greying beard falls in braids to mid-chest, a sheathed sword rests across his knees. To his right, a younger warrior stands holding aloft the king's spear. To the chieftain's left, a woman stands, dressed in heavily embroidered blue wools. Rather than the swirling wind-and-waves spirals of Eswynd, Norrock embroidery and tattoos seem to favor blocky, geometric patterns.

"Many the years since an Eswynd came willingly into my hall, and never has an Arvani," Janos states, at first. His voice is steady, and slightly higher in pitch than one might expect given his build and stature, but stern and full of command. "Tell me who comes before Norrock, and tell me why," he bids the guests with his eye starting on Oskar and then studying the others in turn.

Oskar eyes narrow over Janos, studying the man and his entourage. A smirk soon takes shape over his face, "From one king to another, I'm glad we're having the chance to meet." He says, breaking his silence and inclining his head just slightly as a greeting. "Oskar, the Eswynd on the Rock, comes before you with the promise of a... partnership." He decides on that word, turning to Norah and Medeia, "And I shall let my companions speak for themselves."

Norah steps forward, standing at her husband's side. "I am Marquessa Norah Eswynd. I am Arvani, but I have come to know and love the ways of my Eswynd kin. I have brought some gifts -- fine food and drink that are hard to come by in this part of the Isles." Her elocution is impeccable. This isn't the Norah you see around Eswyndol. This is Full Marquessa Mode.

Medeia takes a steadying breath when it comes to her to introduce herself. Her head inclines to the king. She seems, for a quick moment, to make a couple calculated decisions about what to include before speaking clearly and firmly, "I am Lady Medeia Eswynd, wife of Lord Haakon Eswynd, born of House Saik in the Lyceum." She does her best to ensure her accent is intelligible to those listening, though it still lilts musically. "I come to aid our people in finding common ground. As a midwife and physician, I humbly offer gifts of healing." No mention of being a Harlequin and an attempt to use her image as a direct counter to Haakon's.

From the assembled Norrock warriors there are several snorts and scoffs at Oskar's prospect of a partnership, though Janos remains stonefaced and inscrutable. The chieftain's spearbearer does raise his voice to answer Oskar, "We see no King before us. You are some Arvani vassal now, who knelt to the fucking mainland." The genteel words and dignified offering of gifts are enough for Janos to raise a hand to still the immediate complaints of his son. The Shav chieftain draws a slow breath and remark lightly, "It is pleasant to have tribute brought to my hall, rather than sending ships to gather it." The half jest earns a few grudging chuckles from the warriors present, as Thralls approach bowing, to bring the gifts to the throne for inspection. "Yet we were enemies before Eswynd knelt to the Arvani. Why should we be otherwise, now?" While Janos speaks, the lady in blue to his left gestures for several of the gifts to be brought to her for closer inspection. Several tinctures and a measure of chocolate aren't getting past her.

"From your name and the marks I see on your men, do the Norrocks have the favor of a stone Spirit?" Norah asks, trying to open the door to some dialogue.

Oskar sighs as he probably expected a similar reception, "Ask any Eswynd and they shall tell you the truth." He says, rolling both of his shoulders in a shrug. "Which is that we kept some of our pride aside to survive a war, yet the traditions remain. We still retain our marks, our rites and our customs. Even those who come into our midst eventually decide to partake in them." The Marquis pauses, waiting a few seconds before answering to the late question. "We have enemies in common now and Norrock has much to gain by aligning with those who can provide a victorious end to your blood feud."

Medeiatilts her head in curiosity, looking over the assembled for Norah's question, then glances down at the drape of her dress when Oskar notes the marks and newcomers taking them. She lightly hooks a finger at the bottom of er neckline to pull it down, just an inch, to show the top of her home mark. "I chose to take mine upon my wedding day, after standing in the shallows during a ceremony performed by their high priestess." 'Not all Arvani,' she seems to be saying. The fabric is released to spring back up as Oskar continues. "Enemies need not always be," Her head nods with Oskar's last words.

It is the Norrock lady in blue who answers Norah, with a slow nod: "Sea and sky, salt and stone; the Goddess will keep Her own." The words are spoken in the cadence of a proverb. "We are born of salt and stone, and carry the stone marks on our skins."

When Oskar mentions ending a blood feud, interest is sharpened in the hall. Janos doesn't play coy. "You speak of Longisle. Of the Thrax and their Kinstrife." A slow breath is drawn. "Tell me what the Eswynd would take of us in turn."

Norah lets Janos and Oskar talk. She turns her attention to the woman in blue. "Norah Eswynd," she introduces herself. "I would show my own home mark, but this dress would turn that into far more of a show than I'm willing to put on today," she says with a hint of a smile. "Is your goddess Mangata?"

"A little bit of your pride and part of your gains." Oskar says, confirming Janos' words with a nod while retaining the same stern position as before. "Just as we call Tyde our lieges, you'd have to call us such." His eyes wander to the hall, resting over some of the more worn pieces of timber. "Besides getting an audience of Eswynd ships to support the Norrock as you take on the Longisle, we'd be obliged to defend the island against attackers, be they foreign or internal."

Here is where Medeia knows to stay quiet and mindful - her brand of Faith may well be heresy here, and she is not a Voice, she cannot speak for Eswynd. Without being too obvious, she takes the time to truly take in the details of the hall, the people. The repurposed and well-abused timbers, the patched and thinning clothing. She bites her tongue.

"Olga, Queen of Norrock," Norah's counterpart names herself. She inclines her head in affirmation when the Arvani asks after Mangata. "She is." The lady (and several warriors) had taken note of the incomplete glimpse of Medeia's home mark, the lady adding to the newest Eswynd, "Your husband slew my near-brother, stole his ship, and put his crew to the sword rather than taking Thralls." That last seems a point of contention.

The Marquis' frank answer causes Janos to draw a slow breath, eyes narrowing in thought. His spearbearer is less reserved. "The Eswynd speaks of keeping traditions, but the Arvani have taken a his thralls- now he seeks to make slaves of us!" Many in the hall agree, by the thumping of fists on tables.

Medeia checks charm and propaganda at daunting. Medeia is marginally successful.

Oskar checks charm and diplomacy at daunting. Oskar marginally fails.

Norah checks charm and manipulation at daunting. Norah fails.

"Your Majesty," Norah says politely, dipping her head. "I cannot correct the past actions of my near-brother, but I can move forward in good faith. What would you consider an act of goodwill on our parts?"

"We do not abide slavery." The words coming from Medeia are edged in steel and forged in ire. She looks to the Norrock queen, "And we do not take new thralls." There's a brief pause as she steps forward, seeming to rather forget that she doesn't speak for Eswynd, her voice impassioned and laced with genuine care for the wellbeing of them as people. "When Oskar, the Eswynd on the Rock tells you we will protect you? He speaks true. The twenty-five ships in your waters are a quarter of our strength and we will bring them to bear on your behalf." She looks directly at Janos now, making eye contact and seeming quite a bit taller than her five-foot-nothing. "What he asks in turn is dwarfed by what you stand to gain: guaranteed trade in and out, opportunities for making additional allies, direct support in case of illness, and a liege house that understands your traditions and will make every effort to preserve them."

"No slaves." Oskar shakes his head, and turning to answer the spearbearer directly. "King Janos would still lead Norrock, Arvani laws also prevent lieges from abusing their vassals." He says, nodding in agreement to what Medeia says, "As for thralls, they are more expensive than worth it, really. Since joining the Compact we took no new thralls and yet, we've prospered."

Olga eats a chocolate.

Discontent simmers among the assembled Norrock nobility, but it does not break openly into shouts or drawn steel. Janos looks between the three Ewynds, then between his wife and son. Oskar might recognize the weight of the decision the chieftain feels as he considers in silence. "I will say this," he voiced aloud after a long moment. "There has been blood shed between our houses, but I do not despise Eswynd as I loathe Longisle. I will not kneel to you now.. but I will consent to joining your fleet against Langostrov. Give me my vengeance upon them, and then- if you speak and strike truly- then we will speak of oaths and bonded houses."

"Yes." Oskar begins, looking straight at Janos, "What's done is done and there's no way back. But the future is ahead of us and I can show what we're willing to make of it." His eyes turn back to the fellow Eswynd behind him, "Lady Medeia, please tell his majesty about our offer."

Medeia's eyebrows lift in surprise. She had stepped back, trying to regain her place rightfully behind Oskar and Norah, so as not to cause trouble with another outburst. She looks at Oskar for a long moment, to confirm he really means for her to do this, and it clicks. She steps forward once more and speaks clearly once more. "In parting, as a gesture of good faith and to ensure your strength in the coming fight, I - on behalf of my husband and my house - return to you the ship of your slain brother."

Norah notices Queen Olga popping the chocolate in her mouth. She quietly approaches, picking up a small wooden box and handing it to her. "These ones are filled with cherries and brandy," she says quietly. Conspiratorially.

Janos the Tall looks aside to his wife and son, in turn, lingering on the latter. The spearbearer looks visibly displeased, but does not voice any complaint as the chieftain in his throne looks back to the Eswynds. "A fit gift. If the Eswynd will swear to send ships to our aid in taking vengeance upon Longisle, and his warriors fulfill that oath, we will take counsel afterward in his Hall, and discuss alliance. But battle must come first."

Norah's discreet offering is received in silence.

Before she slinks back behind Oskar, Medeia looks at Olga and smiles softly. In a quieter voice, still loud enough for many to hear, but less assertive, she says, "Count Magnotta of Caer Morien in the Lyceum isles, where much cocoa for chocolate is grown, is a friend of mine." She seems to think this is about as good of a result as they could have hoped for and fall in with Oskar and Norah when it is time to return to the ship. And Haakon. Whom she is apparently /not/ going to release after them. The heart eating and hall razing will have to wait.

The king asked for The Eswynd's word, and Norah knows that The Eswynd is the best one to respond to that. She stands firmly by his side, hoping to strike the image of balance between Compact and Prodigal.

Oskar nods once to Janos, trying to show commitment to him. "We will, let Langostrov tremble in fear that the Eswynd will come along the Norrock for them. I swear" He says, moving his gaze away from the king to those in his company, "Eswynd Rock will be a fitting place for celebration afterwards. May all present here be there to enjoy it."

A silent motion from Janos the Tall summons a pair of cups to seal the bargain, one is handed to the chieftain, the other to the Marquis. "Sea and Sky, Salt and Stone bear witness," Queen Olga invokes as the drinks seal the promise to fight together.

No oaths of vassalage were extracted, not are any among Norrock overjoyed. But it is a beginning.