The Northern Wars

CALAIS, LEGION

Winter, 1E77

The bell jingled as Robin opened the door to the butcher's shop- after a moment the butcher appeared at the counter from where he had been preoccupied the back room. Robin tossed his sack on top of the counter and poured the meats out onto the tabletop surface. They greeted one another and made some small talk; the butcher had a child on the way and Robin told the butcher news from the North. The butcher offered five gold coins for the lot upon taking a moment to weigh and examine the goods, but Robin was gob-smacked.

"Are you having a laugh? That adds up to five coppers a pound!" Robin exclaimed after doing the math for himself to be precise.

"Hear now! I've just gotten through telling you the times are rough here in addition to my wife being pregnant with a child in her womb! Surely even you would understand- we need the money huntsman." the butcher replied.

"Come though, surely you can do better than that; this pile is worth at least ten gold coins. You think I don't have mouths to feed where I've come from?" Robin returned with clear annoyance.

"Then you'll settle for seven gold coins and five silver pieces- after tax, mind you- as that's truly the best I can do. That roughly comes out to 10 gold coins since the tax rate is 34%, so we can both agree that it is more than fair given the circumstances." the butcher handed the gold over to Robin and took the meats to cure in the back room whilst Robin proceeded back out onto the high street.

The streets of Calais were busy and bustling like the rest of the imperial towns and cities that comprised the Kingdom of Legion. They were filled with trader's stalls, street vendors, and the passing shoppers that Robin circumnavigated on his journey towards the most trusted of all the merchants that he conducted trade with on a regular basis. Finally after some time of walking through the busy traffic of the streets, he reached his destination- entering the shop of his dearest friend from childhood.

"Good day Robin! How have you fared? It's good to see you my friend! What news do you bring from home?" Robin embraced Edwin, his old friend from days long passed before the fellow Ahglorian hunter left his home in Olenor with his Legionnaire wife.

"Hello Edwin, old friend! I've been well- Niko is fourteen now! He's much bigger now than he was when you left; you may see him in the Autumn! Be wants to take on the trade of our people... Don't worry friend, I'll set some aside for you and give Niko instructions- it would be nice for you to see him again and show him the trade route. He's never been outside Olenor after all." Robin set his pack down and rubbed his shoulders where the straps had dug into his skin all throughout his journey.

"Pleasantries aside, I see you have the goods," Edwin said in Legionnaire before bursting into laughter along with Robin. They enjoyed the mirth of Ahglorian company in the imperial town; the people of Legion only ever had one concern growing in their minds with each passing day, and that one thing was money. Switching back to the Common Tongue, Edwin continued, "I can't believe it's been ten years, he was still just a wee lad when I met Louise. It would be nice to take him around town and show him the sights. I take it that he smokes then?"

"Indeed, and aye, he started smoking last winter- he took his first puffs when I returned from here in the cycle just passed." Robin replied as he took out the fur caribou hide from within his pack.

"Contrary to what you may think, the shopkeepers aren't lying when they tell you that the times are tough. The King has been raising the taxes and he's introducing shop permits into the major towns and cities. It's been hard here- I've been thinking of bringing Louise up north with me... Maybe settle in a nice Legion cottage in Avon perhaps... it would be nice to return home. Anyhow, I'm telling you this as a friend Robin- the price will remain the same as last year so that comes out to thirty gold coins. The reports from the elf-lands have only been growing worse each year from what little news the immigrants bring with them, along with those damned Lion Hornets... I don't honestly know how much longer the imperial economy can hold up, given the circumstances." Robin thanked his old friend and handed over the hide as Edwin counted out the thirty gold coins from a purse he carried in his pocket.

"So tell me friend, do you ever feel that these clothes truly fit?" Robin laughed and Edwin chuckled.

"Fur doesn't suit the warmth of the South, and besides- Louise misplaced them anyhow." Edwin conceded to Robin with a laugh.

"Oh, look at how they've civilised you- like a wolf in sheep's clothing, though you even bah with them and join them in their frolicking." Robin rebutted jokingly.

"We see the world as a hunting ground of predators and their prey, but why can't we live in a civilised world where there is order and equality to the nature of survivalism?" Edwin answered back in response.

Having caught up and concluded their business, the pair parted ways; Robin had the remainder of the morning and the rest of the day to make his way to Seléne so he quickly browsed the stalls as he prepared to depart. He bought several bottles of rich Norman Red Wine for five silver pieces per bottle that would go good with the caribou steaks hang-drying back home and he bought himself a nice yew bow that would serve him nicely for another twenty gold coins. He also bought a carton of Legion rolling papers and a pound of Lyons-grown Red Bush rolling tobacco for a grand total of ten gold coins before embarking upon his journey.

Once he'd gathered himself and all the items he needed from the imperial town, he made towards the town's outskirts where he would proceed to take the seldom used eastern road into Aenor. The cobblestone road ended just a little way past the stables that stood alone upon the outskirts of the town. It gave way to a dry dirt road that led directly towards Aenos and Arden along the coast of the Aryan Forest. Reaching the intersection where the path forked in three directions between Aenos, Arden, and Seléne, he would divert from the East Road, making for Seléne as he took the southern-bound path.

The sun shined down from the sky brightly and the lands were vibrant with colour in the pleasant climate of the Legion countryside. Robin took out his pipe and the sack full of his premium Ahglorian-grown cannabis, packing the bowl whilst he walked along the road. He puffed on the pipe as he made his way through the land and he walked at a decent pace with his now empty pack in the Legion lands. The plants still bloomed in the winter as Robin walked through the southern country- everywhere the grass was lush and green and there wasn't a hint of frost upon the ground like in Ahglor.

There was morning dew upon the grass still and the air was warm and humid. It was a warm spring day in Legion, and it was like that year round. The same was true in Aenor, though Aenor was much more beautiful in comparison. The elves did not leave a trace upon the lands they in which they lived, much like the Ahglorians tribesmen; they lived under tree canopies and used the forest as their home. In the towns outside of the Aryan Forest the elves in Selene lived in log cabins built out of the outer trees of the wood, and in the town of Eros they lived in stone cottages upon the coast . As it was, Eros was the largest source of fresh fish in the entire Northwest region of Aerbon.

Robin reached the crossroads and took the southern path to Seléne- he was finally come upon the borders of the elven country. Every so often he came across passing elves, either walking between Seléne and Aenos or travelling west from Faen and Arden. There were small groups passing him by every so often, but it was no more traffic than was usual in the area at that time of year in comparison to Robin's previous visits to the country of Aenor. Navigating the busy streets of Seléne, he made his way into a tavern to have a warm evening meal after a long day of walking.

After a brief exchange of words with the bartender, Robin soon found himself with a meal of fish and chips, completed with a pint of Ahglorian Amber Ale. Speaking with the bartender, Robin caught himself up on the news of the lands- there were no reports from the elvish scouting party sent across the North Sea in Autumn and the elves were seeking outside assistance from Legion and Roman mercenaries. Some Ahglorian tribesmen had answered the call and there were even a few present in the tavern. Upon further inspection of his surroundings, Robin even recognised a couple of familiar faces- much to his surprise.

"Alby! How goes it? Are you on a trek for absinth or have you other business in these parts? It's good to see you friend!" Robin called out to one of his fellow kinsmen from his hometown of Olenor after spotting him at the bar.

"Hallo friend! I seek out the port of Arden to answer the summons for all able-bodied and interested mercenaries to travel east! It has been rumoured there that the disappearances in Aenor stem from the shores across the sea." Alby replied, greeting his hometown friend.

His friend Alby went on to explain that they were sending out scouting and exploration parties to scour the eastern shore and discover what they could of the foriegn lands. Robin declined the invitation to join their mercenary ranks, rejecting the offered rewards- even if all that he found truly was his to keep for himself, along with whatever land he saw fit to claim as his homestead. Robin had a son to take care of and he just wanted a quiet life at the place he already called his homestead; he had no desire to seek out fame and fortune abroad. Robin left the tavern and took to the town streets; with his business in the bar concluded he sought out the elven merchants selling goods. Seeking out the vendor stalls, the tribesman found an ornate bow crafted out of the white wood of the Groot tree.

Groot trees were liken to willows and they grew anywhere between five to ten metres tall. Their wood was flexible and light and the wood bows produced from the willow wood were more ceremonial than practical; the white gnarled wood had a marble texture about it and it was beautiful. This he bought for his son at the affordable price of ten gold coins, leaving him with just small change for the next year’s accommodations in the Legion lands. The elves were much more gracious bargainers than the Legionnaire people and Robin always enjoying conducting business with them and spending time amongst their people.

Robin greatly desired a bottle of the Aenorean Absinthe, aged in the hallucinogenic bark of the Groot tree exclusive to the Aryan Forest (the White Forest in the tongue of men), but for this expensive commodity the elves would accept no amount of gold. Ahglorian marijuana was the only thing in all of Aerbon that the elves of Aenor would trade for their precious liqueur. He would simply have to wait until Autumn's harvest before he would be able to once again drink the elvish alcohol. With his business in the elven lands finished, Robin prepared for his return journey back to his son in Olenor.

The journey took him only three days, just as he suspected, and the last frost of winter was near approaching when Robin got back. Spring was coming fast upon the people of Ahglor- the mark the new year by their reckoning of time in those days. Soon he and his son would be tasked with the sowing of their prized seeds in early Spring. They would sprout tiny seedlings that one day would grow leaves- first beginning with three-bladed leaves and then five, seven, and even nine pronged leaves until they began to grow the buds. Those would start to form at the nodes between leaves, spindling up the main stem of the plant and filling in until the plant was thick with pungent cannabis buds. Once they were developed, the northern farmers would harvest the matured females after ridding themselves of the males as they showed up, readying their product in the Autumn to dry and cure before they could smoke it. The tribal hunters of Eastern Ahglor preferred the shorter and stouter cannabis indica that produced a mellow stoned feeling over the cannabis sativa of Western Ahglor's tribesmen in the towns and cities along the river and coast.

“Father, you shouldn’t have! Thank you so much!” Niko exclaimed upon his father's return at the presentation of his souvenir from the elf lands.

Taking the bow into his hands, Niko fitted an arrow to the string. He pulled the arrow as far back as he could and watched it sail through the air like the bird who provided the feathers of the shaft until it dipped its nose and sank down where it bit into the trunk of a tree, nearly an hundred metres away, with a distant thud. Robin congratulated his son on the shot and he rolled a spliff for them to share on the warm winter day. Spring was nearly upon them and with the spring showers would come the start of a new year; the seventy-seventh year of the First Era by the reckoning of Aerbon.

They spent their time together in the fields tilling the lands and hunting small game such as snow hares and the northern fox, smoking the weed of their land in spliffs. Robin smoked his weed mixed with tobacco rolled up in imperial papers, and also out of bowls and pipes that he crafted himself with nature. They ate caribou steaks for dinner washed down by glasses of the rich red Legion wine Robin had bought on his travels. Spring rolled through the Ahglorian countryside and their cannabis plants began to sprout. Robin taught his son Niko the craft of their people, explaining to him the background of the plant and teaching him how to grow the weed in nature.

They planted several patches of anywhere between twenty to fifty seeds in a great clump. Each patch contained anywhere between five to ten clumps. There were fifteen patches in the fields that they claimed as their land and the plants sprouted fast and reached for the light of the sun in the sky above. Before long the plants were as tall as Niko, and they began to sprout buds at the nodes all along the main stalk. Branches sprouted out, rife with tiny buds starting to form- trichomes stretched out like white baby tentacles, seeking the pollen of the male plants that Robin and Niko made sure to weed out as they showed themselves later on in the growing season.

The buds steadily filled in and finally in the Autumn months the white hairy buds began to shrink back, turning amber as the plant died back before the upcoming winter killed it off. They had failed at their sole natural duty of reproduction and now they were fully matured; the dank buds were ready to be plucked from the stem to be dried and cured for a couple weeks in baskets as well as hung and dried by the stalk. Once the harvest was ready to be smoked the excess would be taken South into Aenor to be traded for the absinthe of the Aryan Forest along the east coast of the elvish land. Robin had not yet confirmed to Niko that he would be allowed to make the journey, though his eager son accepted it for fact that his father wouldn’t deny him the privilege of travelling abroad for the first time in his life.