Chapter 2: Crisis in Cruddain, Part 2




All was quiet in the Capital city of Camulosadae, the greatest city in Casseia. It was late in the evening; the market had long since closed for the day, the sleepy guards sat quietly upon the city walls, awaiting an attack which they well knew would never come. Indeed, all was silent, even the barking of dogs, and the hooting of owls, common sounds to the residents of the fair city, were inaudible, all was dead silent. All was quiet as the city slept. All, save for the palace. For the palace, this was a joyous day: the greatest hero of the Kingdom, Caratadoc yr Mar, the conqueror of the Germans, the savior of Greater Germany was staying in the city.

Caratdoc was not a family member, but he was regarded as such. He was pronounced the senior general of the 1st Casseian Army at the age of 24. At the age of 30, after 6 years of hard training, he was shipped to Greater Germania, where he first subjugated the natives, and then established the first cities of the colony of Greater Germania, or New Casseia, as some called it. 9 years later, the Sweboz betrayed the Casseians, their allies, and captured the colonial city of Gawjam Kimbrioz. The sack of that city incited Caratadoc into a fury, he vowed to kill 10 germans for every innocent Casseian who was killed in that city. The task was something he took to immediately and vigorously, capturing Gawjam Heruskoz and Swebotraustastamnoz in just 2 years. A year and a half later, at the battle of the Oder, he decisively defeated the main Sweboz army, decimating 2,000 Germans in the process. Despite some setbacks at the Strait of Rugen, he eventually won another decisive battle and took the city of Gawjam Rugoz. The capture of Gawjam Rugoz broke the Sweboz, they agreed to become the protectorate of the Casse, left with their last stronghold at Gawjam Silengoz.

The war was over. Caratadoc's mission now being accomplished, so at the age of 51, he retired as commander of the army, and started his long journey home to Ynys Mon. So here he was, Caratadoc had just put into port outside of Camulasadae earlier that day, and so was staying the day at Camulosadae before carrying on to his old freinds, his old family, and his old life.

The party was drawing to a close, now only 9 remained, the rest having long since gone off to bed, some voluntarily, while others were dragged off in a drunken stupor by their attendents. They were arranged all arranged on a couch, watching the German dancing girls Caratadoc himself had taken prisoner from the ruins of Gawjam Rutoz. Of course there was Massorias, the King, he had just turned 60 years of age. His hair, once thick, and dark brown, now gray. His face, however, was still the same old, unwavering face, unemotional as always. To his right sat his wife, Navi. She was beautiful once, dark brown eyes, fair white skin, with an angelic face, completely unblemished. Now she was old, her fair face, now old and wrinkled, her long brown hair, now white as snow. Seated to the left of Massorias was his older brother, Mowg, delightfully given the epithet of "the fat" by his friends. The epithet was true, he was extremely overweight, his face fat, and putrid, with greasy white hair. Despite being the eldest son of the previous high king, Barae, he didn't resent being passed up for succession; he was far more content to enjoy his lugurious lifestyle as a prince. Seated beside Mowg was his wife Vallicoros. She too was fat, though nowhere near a large as her husband, and was quite a perfect match for Mowg, both equally uncaring about politics, and both contained an equisite love for all things exotic.

Next to Vallicoros, was seated Brigomalos, Massorias's eldest son. He was 29 years old and very attractive: long, dark brown hair, a great mustache, and fair face beneath it. Within his outward attractiveness lay a mind as powerful as his father's. Additionally, he was lively, unselfish, and very upbeat. Unfortunately, he was fearful of public speaking, and did not enjoy being in the limelight, and this fact alone would perhaps be enough to keep him from the line of succession. Beside Brigomalos was Oudiae, his equally lovely wife. Next was Caratadoc, the man of the hour. He was old, now 52 years old, and his mustache and hair were gray to complement this. On his face and arms he bore the scars of a man who had seen much blood in his time. His eyes, however were his most striking feature: they were bright blue, and when looked into, men often swore one could hear the dying screams of the Sweboz he killed personally, a most horrific experience indeed. Finally, on the far end of the couch sat Meriadoc. Meriadoc was Massorias's chief advisor, and a close friend at that.

The music stopped, the women ceased their dancing, and promptly were escorted from the hall. Finally Caratadoc broke the silence: "So, what did my lords think of the entertainment?"

"Oh, most spectacular!" exclaimed Mowg immediately.

Caratadoc smiled, "Yes, I do believe they were an excellent find. The blond one claims that she was once a princess. She was very difficult to break, but she came around eventually." He broke off and addressed his king: "And what did your highness think?" he inquired.

"Most amusing," said Massorias quietly. As always, his face was unreadable, and his statements were concealed and controlled. Caratadoc frowned, bit was not dismayed.

"Oh, don't be so neutral brother!" shouted Mowg, the alcohol interfering with his judgement of volume, "Anyways don't let my brother here get you down, Caratadoc. Let's hear of your exploits in Germania, tell us about how you shamed the Sweboz king!"

"Again, sire? I've told you twice today already!" said Caratadoc. Mowg nodded, urging Caratadoc on.

"Very well, so there I was, outnumbered two to one, to my rear, the Oder, and before me, the entirety of the Sweboz army, I arranged my forces and-" Caradoc's story was quickly interrupted as the doors to the hall were flung open. Behind the doors, the members of the party could just make out the sillouette of a small man, a young boy by the looks of it. He entered the hall, and quickly strode up to the couch where the nine were seated. Caratadoc could now see the boy clearly. He was a druid, or more likely a student, although you wouldn't be able to make it out by his appearance; his clothes were covered in mud, and he was drenched to the bone; he had obviously been traveling for many days, perhaps weeks even. He reached the couch and kneeled before the King.

"My lord," he said hurriedly."

"What is it boy?" Inquired Meriadoc.

"I-it-it's," He stuttered

"Well out with it!" Ordered Mowg.

"Mowg be quiet! You'll friegthen the boy!" shouted Oudiae. "Now, child, what is the problem, what has happened. There's no need to be afraid, you can tell us anything."

The boy glanced up, awed by the woman addressing him, but quickly returned his gaze the floor, lest he be spotted looking at another man's wife. "My lords," he continued, "It's the city of Emain Macha, it has been taken over."

"Taken over, what do you mean?" inquired Meriadoc.

"A nobleman of the town, Duratrios gathered together a large following and declared the town independent of the Casse."

The group started shifting in their seats, murmuring to one another. All except for one: Massorias did not take his eyes off of the boy, his hands knitted together in front of his face. "What of the Druids in charge before?" He asked finally.

"All dead, Duratrios killed the lot of them, I was lucky enough to slip out of town, undiscovered." Massorias's face still did not change, however the rest of the group was outraged. Their murmuring became loud conversation.

Mowg eventually turned to his brother: "Brother, this is nothing to be frightened of, the Hibernians have always been an unruly lot, the uncivilized louts, so long as they keep it on their side of the island, what difference should it make if they decide to call themselves independent?"

"No," responded Massorias, "The Hibernians are a part of the empire, and if this cancerous affliction spreads to Ivernis, we could lose the whole island. No, this is not something we can ignore; this rebellion needs to be dealt with."

Caratadoc rose quickly: "My liege, let me send an army to deal with the rebels! I'm sure with a few hundred men, I could have the Casseian flag flying oe'r the city in a matter of weeks!"

"No," said Massorias emphatically. A show of force will only make their leader a martyr and further their cause. Besides, you've done enough for this nation, I'll not see you fight any more, you're retired, and retired you shall stay.

"My liege," said Meriadoc finally, "I agree that excessive force would not be met favorably by the Hibernians, but perhaps if we sent a small force to administer judgement, perhaps it would be wise to send someone from Ynys Mon to the town, someone they can respect.

Massorias smiled finally, "My thoughts exactly."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Meriadoc, "I'll send a message to Ynys Mon at once!"

"No," said Massorias, "This is a serious crisis, and it cannot be any old family member who is sent off. Nay, this is a man who must be understanding, while not weak, He must be able to administer judgement, while not appearing harsh or cruel. This is a decision which must be made with the utmost care,a job which only a King is capable of accomplishing." Then Massorias turned to Caratadoc: "General, I believe you were on your way to Ynys Mon? How would you fell if I were to accompany you on your journey?"

"It-it would be an honor my liege"

Massorias smiled: "Well then, it's settled. I'll accompany Caratadoc to Ynys Mon, and while there, I'll handpick the future King of Emain Macha."

"No!" exclaimed Navi, "My husband, you are too old to make this journey, I don't think you are capable of the trip."

"That is nonsense," replied Massorias, "I am not as old as you think, I will take the trip." Massorais got up and yawned. "See to it that this boy is given a room to sleep in, and is provided for, I'm going to sleep. Tomorrow, I travel for Ynys Mon." He said as he left the hall for his room.