A tale of Allswen – A sims 3 kingdom challenge

Ralof ignored the itching feeling of the blood drying on his cheek as he scowled down the table at his Lord Commander. The older man was attempting to ignore him and was staring down at one of the reports.

“You should have taken that oasis.” Ralof said quietly

Brynolf sighed audibly, he had known the king since he was a child, it had been Brynolf who taught Ralof how to fight and who did his best to keep the prince out of danger.

But Ralof was still stubborn and obsessed with honourable warfare.

“It would have given us no tactical advantage, sire,” Brynolf spoke patiently, “My Lord… Ralof, perhaps we should consider stopping whilst we are ahead. We’ve gained three ports and four mining cities but we have no plan how to run them.”

Ralof stared out of the arch behind him, for the first time he could see why his wife loved this place with the cool bathing pools and shaded arches. They had recently captured this fort and it had taken a few months to get it in working order, but now they were ready to push on the attack.

“We will make peace in the summer.” He said finally.

“My lord! That could be years and the fields would not have been planted if you insist on fighting through the spring.”

Just then a voice rang out behind them, “My lords, there has been reports of an attack to the north.”

Ralof nodded at Brynolf, “We will speak of this later.”

Ralof plunged the sword into the scouts back before standing up and looking at the small troop of peasant warriors around him.

“We attack the oasis now, Commander Brynolf will ride up from over the bluff and assist us. We take no prisoners.” The king stared round at the soldiers before marching off.

The young man who had told them off the attack walked beside him. Unlike the other soldiers who had been burnt by the sun, he had tanned. He walked with ease in the heat despite the heavy mail shirt he wore. Ralof’s armour was more expensive and lightweight but even he was struggling in the desert sun.

“You seem used to these conditions, Private.” He said with a slight hitch in his breath.

“I was born beyond the Westerling mountains sire, in the city of Praaven? It’s not nearly as warm as this but more close than Odellia.” The soldier replied nervously.

“I know of it, what are you doing fighting here?” Private…?”

“Thatcher my lord, and I married a woman who lived on the outskirts of Vargfell.” The soldier reddened slightly.

“Then I hope we both get leave to see our family, Private Thatcher.”

All of a sudden, a group of well muscled men burst out of the bushes with curved swords and axes in their hands. As Ralof swung and hacked with his sword he glanced frantically around him for a glimpse of that damned commander. Seeing his men fall around him, he retreated to the oasis, followed only by the blood splattered Private Thatcher. But the men attacking them were more used to moving through the shifting sands than them and soon caught up. One of the men had lost his weapon and grabbed Ralof around the neck, in the struggle that soon followed he saw the private fall to the ground.

Ralof clawed at his attackers hands and caught a glimpse of the bag that contained his crown lying in the reeds. If he could just convince them that he was who he said he was… better a captured king than a dead one.

He realised he did not want to die.

But the hands around his throat were choking him and he could scarcely think now. He was never going to see his children again. He was never going to see the new baby his wife was expecting. He was never going to see home again.

The Commanders belated cavalry charged finally made it to the oasis, having seen the bodies of the other men and searching for their king. It was Brynolf who loosed the arrow that pierced the Mot’kioan mans wrist which led to him dropping the limp body to the ground. It had been Brynolf who had rode back to the fort with the Kings unconscious body draped over the back of his mount. And it was Brynolf who waited anxiously for the King to wake.

 It had been a few weeks later until the king woke, to hear the news of his new daughter Isara and the tremendous losses that occured in his rescue. But there was a small shred of hope, the D’Marrielle forges had produced relatively cheap armour for his men to buy. It was slightly cooler in the desert sun than the mail shirts and offered a good deal more protection.

With the blood still on his face, the King quietly padded out of his stiflingly hot bedchambers. The fort was quiet, apart from the murmurs of the sentries and the occasional clash of steel from the forges. Seeing movement on one of the flat roofs nearby, Ralof stole his way up the ladder to join them.

            

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” He spoke loudly as he pulled himself up. The boy with the bow, who stood uncomfortably in his new armour turned to face him.

“Forgive me, but shouldn’t you be as well sir?”

Ralof grinned grudgingly and moved his aching body onto the stool when he tutted with distaste at his bruised fingers. The three soldiers on the rooftop around him, even the young one, had the bearing of professional soldiers. These were the men who should have come with him to the oasis, rather than those poor terrified recruits.

“How’s the new armour suiting you?”

“Oh it’s grand sir, Hadvar bet Sidhgar that his axe couldn’t make a dent in it.” The boy gestured enthusiastically to the well muscled brute with the axe swinging fiercly at a smaller man with a long sword.

“This seems a good use of my wealth.” Ralof said dryly.

The boy laughed a little and there was silence for a while, “I really think we’ll win this now sir. We’ve got you back for one thing and these new weapons will give us an advantage.”

Ralof said nothing, the clash of axe and shield merely reminding him that back home a widow would be grieving for poor, foolish Private Thatcher.

A/N Yes, I know I said I was doing other stuff but you know, home is where the heart is. As you can probably see I’ve got a couple of mods now, so if anyone has any suggestions on any other decent mods or any improvements in general I’d love to hear them.

For the children of Allswen the eight year long winter had so far been as wild and as carefree as they wished but for Sophia not even recently arrived  baby daughter or her beloved husband could lift her spirits. For unlike all the other noble children the heir to the throne himself had spent the snows lying in bed with a hacking cough or instead resting listlessly on the bed whilst his mother read to him. Ralof scarcely seemed to notice his sons illness, after the initial excitement of the birth had worn off and the family started to realise how frail the child was, he’d gone off to deal with war matters with Brynolf. Allswen was well defended from the raiders by seasonal storms and the war on the Mot’kioans had been going well, especially with the Queens brother attacking from the south. Sophia was worried about her mother as the winter often brought diseases in its wake. She did not understand the Odelian fascination with the season.

Sophia had taken to telling her son about the desert peninsula where she’d grown up, it was a faint show of defiance and reminder that Robert was every inch her son as he was Ralofs. How long for? She asked herself occasionally before banishing that thought to the back of her mind,  if only she could pray in the golden caves back home, to the six gods of summer. But here there was only the wild shrines in the snows or forests with the warlike faces carved upon them. She looked up at the sound of raucous giggling from one of the castles many lounges  and gave her son one last lingering kiss before moving on.

“Look how strong she is!” Ralof rocked his daughter slightly, in the way he’d done to Rob so many years ago, “She’s going to have the best knights in the world for sons.”

Sophia twitched slightly as she went to take Cara from the Kings arms, “She’ll be sick down your coat.” She said shortly.

“What does it matter? With the war going the way it is we’ve got enough money to buy the entire country fine clothes.” Ralof moved to kiss her but Sophia turned her head quickly.

“What’s wrong?”

Sophia jerked her head upwards, trying to keep face calm.

“Oh that? He’s just got a bit of a cold, I’ll take him riding tomorrow before I leave-”

“You’re leaving?” Sophia snapped.

“We are at war you know, you’ll be fine here.” Ralof said simply before making his way down to the Great Hall whilst Cara cried for him to return.

The boy could ride, Ralof admitted. He may be a small and worryingly frail but was clever and when he felt up to it he could hunt passably. Not like Brynolfs son Finn, Ralof thought wistfully, the boy was of an age with Rob but taller and a skilled fighter. There was still time for another heir if… if anything should happen. But no, Rob would be fine, it was just a winter chill. He turned and walked away.

Ralof left for the battlefields early that morning, his wife did not usually cry but instead of kissing her goodbye, he had to wipe away a tear.

Hey! Just an update, I’m not going to update it for a while because I’m working on a cult sims 3 story, you can check it out if you want https://liarsandlillies.wordpress.com/2015/08/31/chapter-one-a-broken-family/

Elsa embraced little baby Finn gently, whispering soothing words into his ear. Stiffling a yawn, she laid him down into his spacious crib and sat back down on her plain bed. The little lord was a fine baby with fiery red hair who kicked and squalled like there was no tomorrow.

Meanwhile, a new family of merchants had arrived to the island; Cara and Duncan Evergreen. They were a curious family, Duncan an ex sailor and covered in strange tattoos whereas young Cara had grown up at an orphanage on the island and had spent her days scratching onto stones with loose bits of metal. They both shared a natural talent for art and it had been the sight of Cara’s sketches that had made Duncan sell up his boat and move in to a nice small house, now they both spent their days painting and selling.

In stark contrast was the other merchant family, the Bakers who provided bread for the townspeople. Molly and Marc were hardy and stocky natives of the archipelago who were expecting their first child.

A month or two after this, and now on the edge of the two or three year long winter the Queen gave birth too an heir. Celebrations lasted for weeks although privately the King was worried about the small, frail infant.

For the two peasant families the celebration was tinged with nerves at the start of another freezing winter, many people had died in the snow before.

For the farming family of Ethan and Hilda Forrester winter meant they huddled in their ramshackle hut that clung to the cliff and tried to last as well as they could. The slightly richer peasant family of the Thatchers fared slightly better but still, they were not optimistic about the coming years. Albert was a soldier and Asha worried about him as he spent days on patrol around the freezing island.

When Anna felt the started to feel the pains of labour she started praying to have a girl, in this case, a potential marriage to a future king was much more important than having an heir. A few hours later, her wish was granted as young Grace whispered soothingly in the ears of Astrid.

Lady Anna Skal watched curiously as the queen approached, her sharp eyes flickering over her slight stature and dark eyes.

Sophia was not beautiful but had a certain grace and determination that chilled Anna, she had wanted a shy little girl that she could protect and be a mentor to but this young woman walked with the confidence of a soldier and had a slight rebellious tilt to her jaw. For a second they both stood on the castle stairs with the puddles freezing around them, just watching one another. Anna was not an evil sim, she just wanted to do her best to strengthen her family, through any means possible. They greeted each other politely, Sophia inviting her inside with the grace of a princess, or queen now, she supposed. The Queen stood by the banquet table where are horrible nausea had overcome her, which Anna’s sharp eyes did not fail to notice… how interesting…

Anna chatted amicably enough to the Queen, although to her irritation she seemed guarded and sent a few quick glances to that dratted servant of hers. Apologizing for the lack of her husband Johann (as if she was going to let that oaf near such a delicate diplomatic situation) the sound of riding boots clattering on stone steps. Without waiting for the servant to announce the arrival, Sophia got to her feet and politely greeted the commander.

Brynolf was not as carefree as her husband was, his steely eyes showed no humour and he stood straight like the soldier he was in his blood red doublet. In turn, when the commander looked at the queen, he could see how much more suited to war, this brave intelligent young sim was than her Charismatic husband. Some other lesser nobles arrived in drabs and started dancing merrily in the Great Hall whilst  Sophia stood nervously by a chair, keeping quiet. She was well aware that she should make alliances in this strange land, but with the only person she knew still out hunting, she felt lost. It wasn’t the first dance of this nature she’d been too, but the first where people actively sought her out, before she had just been the plain youngest daughter. Brynolf had noticed this and strode over purposefully to his queen, he was nothing if not loyal. He held his hand out, “Your grace? If I may have this dance?”

Sophia danced happily with the soldier, she had been raised a lady and had always enjoyed dancing. Whilst they spun around the room, the commander chatted to her politely, if a little seriously. She noticed that not a single one of the nobles had said anything about the war and had gone on about needless things about who had the better dress and so such things. Of course. a lot of the conversation was about Sophia herself, and not all were flattering. Just as she was sick to death of overhearing that she looked too frail to last a winter, she was startled by the great doors slamming shut and the skidding of claws on the polished oak floor. The king had arrived.

The party went on for hours and when Ralof had finally finished arguing with Brynolf about which horse was better and when even Anna had ran out of conversation, the guests slowly started to trickle out. Sophia said a quick farewell, but she was feeling most ill.

An idea had started to form in her head… perhaps… Lady Skal noted this as well with some satisfaction as she praised the queen for such a wonderful party. The second she had ridden home, she handed the reins of the horse to Grace and sighed a little at the sullen face the servant was pulling.

She marched into the warmth of her home, surprising her husband who had stayed up all night for her. Anna felt warmed slightly by the gesture, she didn’t love the man but maybe one day she could like him.

“Darling!” Johann smiled delightedly at her and stiffled a yawn, “How was it?”

Anna shrugged, “The usual, although I have my suspicions that we may have a royal heir soon. ”

“Oh how wonderful! And I’m told that the commanders wife is pregnant as well, do you think they’re preparing a marriage?” Her husband gasped.

Anna breathed out quietly, he was such an idiot, nethertheless she smiled at him, “Perhaps… or maybe one of our own?”

Commander Brynolf Jorgansson hugged his young, pregnant wife quickly and smiled at her. Their’s had not been a marriage of choice but they had grown close quite quickly.

“Will you be alright when I’m gone?” He said anxiously, twisting his hands, “If I could refuse I would, but the King himself wanted us to meet his wife and at least one of us has to go.”

Ingrid laughed slightly, “I’ll be fine, I’ve got Elsa to look after me.” The soldier nodded quickly before walking out to ride to the castle.

Back in the Wulfson castle, Sophia was dressed in all her finery, it was hot and cumbersome and she had the most horrible headache. The Queeen stared out of a window sullenly, noticing Ralof out riding in the storm on his newest horse, Slepnir whilst Fenrir his hunting hound barked and gamboled behind them. A slight cough from Davek brought her back to her senses as he quietly handed  her some warm bread.

When Sophia broke it open she almost cried, for it was dotted with spices from her home land, spices that would have cost a small fortune. Getting emotional over bread, she didn’t know what was going wrong with her.

“I thought you might want some sustenance before you meet the nobles, your grace.” Davek said softly as maids and butlers bustled around them, setting everything up for a Royal Feast.

“Davek, if you wouldn’t… well, Ralof has told me the names of the people turning up but well… I still don’t know anything about them and… and I…” Sophia broke off, tapping the floor anxiously with a high heel.

“You don’t want to appear naive in front of them, I couldn’t agree more my grace,” Davek gestured for the servants to leave the great hall, “There’s Commander Brynolf Jorgansson and his wife Ingrid, who won’t be attending tonight as she is heavily pregnant. They also have… have a servant called Elsa.” Davek hesitated for a second, before carrying on quickly.

“The King and Brynolf were very close at a young age, the commander being an older brother figure. However, the two of them disagree over the issue of the war, the commander wanting to arm and train the people of Allswen in case of assault and have a more organised fighting strategy whereas the King would rather continue with the pirate raids and minor skirmishes.”

Sophia’s eyes flashed, “What do you think about it?” Davek found himself startled, he had under estimated her. The young queen may not be from around here but she was sharper than most he’d met.

“I’m… I’m not sure.” He said guardedly, Sophia decided to reserve her judgement on the servant, her mother had instructed her to learn and watch the common people in order to rule well.

“The commander is a famed rider and archer, he’ll most likely arrive on his stallion, which I believe is called Rudy.”

“And the other family?” Sophia prompted.

“Ah yes, the Skal’s… relative newcomers to the island, the husband Johann is kind but what you might call simple. His wife on the other hand… Anna is very clever and loyal to her family, very difficult to understand. I believe they have a fifteen year old servant, called Grace. Barely speaks any Odeilan, not nearly as fluent as you your grace. She washed up on the shore one night, in the wreckage of a Mot’kioan ship.”

Davek looked to continue but was interupted by a footman, “Introducing, her ladyship Anna Skal.”

Sophia instantly walked towards the hall, smiling politely and preparing to meet her new allies and enemies.

Along the frozen shore of the Myrka continent lies the tiny island of Allswen, capital of the Odeila archipelago. The Wulfson family have ruled here for four centuries; stocky, blonde and grey eyed natives of the islands. For twenty years, the Odeila archipelago had at war with the desert people of the distant Mot’kio peninsula, pirates from both sides had been destroying livelihoods across the Whispering Sea.

But in Allswen, the raging desert wars seemed miles away. The peasants continued shivering in their shacks that were drenched in the spray of the sea, ancient families plotted alliances and plots and in the wildest reaches of the island… the Old Gods watched and waited.

It was in this strange place that the twenty year old Queen Sophia D’Marrielle found herself. Having grown up on the pleasure gardens of the Marrielle peninsula, surrounded by the gentle waters of the Azure Sea, she could not have felt more lost, as a sullen looking servant started to lead her over the icy paths through the town and up until the bulk of the castle that was to be her home.

An hour later, Sophia sat absorbed in reading in front of a welcome fire. Every so often she’d glance towards the window and quickly back to the sullen servant. She placed the book on her lap and twisted her fingers anxiously, her new husband would be back soon she’d been told and so she sat in the castle with only a few silent servants for company.

The queen had met her husband a few months ago, although it felt like years, they’d married in great ceremony. She had been a sweet cheeked young girl, both excited and terrified at her impending marriage. Her husband was three years older than her, and was tall and muscled but he had smiled at her gently enough. He had been ruling since the age of sixteen and this marriage would secure an alliance for the D’Marrielle family to aid Allswen in the war. After all the details of the arrangement had been sorted out, she’d been shipped off here to meet the husband she’d met twice in her life.

“Ahem.” King Ralof Wulfson shuffled awkwardly, wincing slightly when he heard the faint sigh when his new wife turned slightly. Quickly, he glanced over to his head servant, Davek Serfson who raised his eyebrows towards him before kneading his bread with a renewed passion. Sophia wasn’t the typical northern beauty, her hair was piled up into a strange knot rather than the usual plaits or loose hair that most noble ladies wore. She was small and rather delicate looking but the marriage was necessary for the alliance and she would hopefully pass on her Genius and Brave traits on to any potential children. Sophia started got to her feet, smiling shyly at him,

“Your grace.” She curtsied politely and to break the awkward silence that followed Ralof quickly kissed her.

Ralof was a Flirty sim and grinned at her, holding her hands gently, prompting Sophia to smile back. Holding the crook of her husbands arm, she walked up one of the spiral staircases towards the Royal Bedchamber whilst Davek, who was stoking the fires smiled at his young kings back.

After the marriage had been consummated, Sophia walked out onto the balcony facing the courtyard. She shivered in her flimsy night dress but stayed out all the same, the cold air was clean and the air smelt fresh, with none of the stagnant smell that came from the deltas in her river home. Perhaps this place wouldn’t be so bad after all…