In the wild lands of medieval England, a brutal winter settles upon the poor villagers of the northern realm of Westcliff. But it is not just marauding wolves that they must fear. As they toil for their master Lord Westcliff, he makes plans that wil...
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The doors of the private chamber cracked open. The guards outside snapped to attention, jamming the butts of their shining halberds against the floor. Lord Westcliff moved to the entrance and thanked the various lords and their advisors as they left the room. His smile was genuine as he personally shook the hand of each lord as they left. The meeting had been a long and testing one, one that had hosted several raised voices and less-than-subtle threats. But it had come to its conclusion without bloodshed or declaration of war, a very real risk in such gatherings. Not all of the lords would be leaving Castle Westcliff with the outcomes they wanted. But all would leave with their lives, and hopefully with an understanding of the mutual benefits of the treaty they had all finally signed.
Lord Westcliff offered his hand to every lord and baron that passed him, most accepting it but some stomping angrily out, eager to return to their rooms and privately vent their frustrations. Lord Westcliff noticed several advisors lagging behind their lords' hasty exits and appearing particularly nervous – he had no doubt that not all of them would be returning home. His smile was broad as Lord Bringham trudged past him; unsurprisingly, the rest of the nobles had been eager to work against him after his bodyguard's failure to live up to his boasts. Lord Bringham would return home to a furious response from his father, Lord Westcliff knew.
As the chamber emptied, Lord Westcliff looked inside to see that not all were in a rush to leave. Old Lord Harskis was still sitting in his chair, his feet crossed comfortably on the table; a veteran of such dealings, he had needed no-one to guide him during the talks and he had come out of them very profitably. Next to him sat Javic, now one of Lord Westcliff's newest trading partners whose port would be providing his kingdom with an access to goods unlike any it had ever known. Lord Westcliff was particularly excited at seeing what would come of this new relationship. His own counsel had warned caution, reminding the young lord of the piracy and lawlessness that operated out of the seafaring town and it's leader and spokesman, Javic himself. But Lord Westcliff saw only opportunity. He knew the risks and was confident that he had the measure of the man – and equally confident he had the willingness to do what was necessary to ensure Javic complied with the terms of their new agreement.
The young lord forced himself not to allow niggling worries to enter his thoughts as he considered the not inconsiderable financial commitment he had personally made to the treaty. He focused instead on the wealth and new networks his investment would forge and the riches he would know. But the nagging sense that he had given too much still pricked at him, moreso as he looked to the stunning dark-skinned woman sitting to Javic's side. The woman – Saida – was representing Javic as his advisor. Her heritage was from lands across the great sea and far to the east so Lord Westcliff had been told. Despite her position, she gave off a confidence that was quite startling in a woman. For one thing, she had refused to be present at the previous evening's feast. Most nobles would simply tell their servants what they would or would not choose to do. But Javic had made no effort to force the woman into joining him. This spoke volumes to young Lord Westcliff – a noble allowing a servant to dictate the terms of their relationship? Either Javic was sleeping with her. Or he was afraid of her. Or both perhaps. Lord Westcliff could certainly empathise with the first of those possibilities.
