Sunrise Over Svaneti

Krvavy takes a long and deep breath, letting the fresh morning air fill her lungs. “Hhhhahh...” She slowly exhales, that puff of air briefly visible as she leans just a little further forward, elbows pressing into the top of a stone merlon.

The crenellations aren’t quite as tall up here, so high above the ground.

Though ‘high’ is a bit relative. The drop from here is still enough for it to be fatal, even for Krvavy and her increasingly girthy health pool, but it isn’t nearly as far as what she is used to in her home. It isn’t nearly as far as the drop beneath the balcony she built for Thea. Not unless the entire hill this castle stands upon is counted as well...

Svaneti is nowhere near as flat as this Drakling first thought it to be, when she viewed it from a distance and when she walked through its smoke-choked streets. It is really quite hilly. Just in a relatively gently rolling kind of way. There are still plenty of steeper sections, though none are sharp enough to count as cliffs – not in Krvavy’s eyes, at least – but the meandering roads avoided those, for the most part. So it is no wonder that she thought this place was so much flatter than it is.

Emerald eyes trail further and further away, following along those sweeping slopes. Buildings become sparser towards the outskirts of this ravaged town... more so than would have been normal just a week ago. Between plots bearing naught but ash and ruin stand the few survivors of that short-lived siege, simple stone homes which withstood the flames of war, though not without earning any scars. A few of those small stone buildings rest at the base of short square towers, those rectangles reaching up to look across this ruined land.

The barbarian’s brow furrows as she looks beyond the bounds of Svaneti. Around a dozen different encampments still remain, scattered loosely around this wounded town. It is only a matter of time until those unwelcome guests all leave...

That scanning gaze soon reaches the horizon, peering far to the north, and slips from land to sky.

Clouds slowly pass overhead, a calm westward wind carrying them across a vast expanse of blue not fully brightened to its daytime hue. Looking towards the source of those puffy pillows sees the sky grow lighter as it bleeds into a warm and peachy orange. The clouds over there are all lit from below, tinged shades of soft pink.

Krvavy can’t see the rocky hills that hide her home, nor the forest that she has hunted in many a time, yet still she stares in the direction of that distant place, squinting into the rising sun.

If only it weren’t so early...

The simple ring of silver and black sitting snug on this Drakling’s lower right horn is almost taunting her with its presence. Krvavy can, at any moment, speak to her Inanna and her Beryl. It would just take a single thought. But... she doesn’t want to bother them like that. She doesn’t want to wake them up before the day has really even begun just to hear their voices. She can be patient and wait an hour or so more.

Maybe one of them – probably Beryl – would even call her first, saving her that wait? Like yesterday. Though that was mostly because she may have forgotten to tell her Dryad and Dwarf that she didn’t die and did, in fact, kill the Duke. In the Drakling’s defence... she was very tired at the time. And she did tell Thea. So, really, the brat is to blame for not passing that info on.

Krvavy softly shakes her head, letting those idle thoughts slip from her mind as she lowly shuts her eyes, basking in the light of the morning sun. Little goosebumps cover her pale and snowy skin, her barely buttoned blouse doing next to nothing to protect her from the cold. Not that that bothers her much. The faint chill of this gently blowing autumn breeze is actually quite pleasant, making the dawn’s light feel all the warmer.

The door behind that barbarian opens with an almost imperceptible sound. Silence reigns for a single second before it is quietly clicked shut once more.

“The view was better a few days back.”

It takes Krvavy a long moment to recognize that almost joking voice as one of the few she heard for the first time last night. “I don’t doubt that.” She idly returns, not feeling the need to glance back and confirm her, almost certainly correct, guess as to who that may be.

A quiet clattering sound draws her attention nonetheless.

Kostas – one of the twins tied as Thea’s second eldest brother, the scholar to Nikolas’ soldier – stands just a few paces away, slightly bent over as he carefully straightens out a tray that now rests atop a nearby table. Placing aside a notebook, he unstacks some porcelain cups and then grabs a fairly large teapot that matches them in style.

The Drakling simply raises a single brow, idly watching as a steaming liquid spills from that spout. Sky blue eyes meet her emerald pair once that stream comes to a stop.

An eyebrow is raised. “Would you like a cup?”

“Sure.” Krvavy shrugs and steps away from the crenellated wall. The walk to that table is short, but still her drink is ready by the time she reaches it. Her large fingers hook into a small handle. Wisps of fragrant steam rise from that teacup, a rather sweet and leafy scent dancing through the restless air.

“I do hope that the lack of cream and honey is not an issue.” The golden locks of Kostas’ nearly shoulder length hair flutter in the gentle morning wind. “A trip all the way down to the kitchens would have been needed to fetch the former, and the latter... I prefer not to use it for this blend, and did not anticipate company up here at this time of the day.”

Krvavy glances towards the handful of other little cups still resting on that tray.

The nobleman follows her gaze. “I could not be bothered to unload those extras, electing instead to carry the whole set up.” He simply states.

The Drakling shrugs and brings the cup in her hands up to her lips. Her brow furrows just the faintest bit. A flavour that is difficult to discern fills her mouth, swirling around her tongue. It... It simply tastes as it smells: sweet and a little leafy. Which isn’t bad. Some of the teas that Beryl has brewed haven’t been this nice. Though obviously it doesn’t even slightly compare to her sweet berry’s Nymph-Heart Nectar... “This is good enough on its own to not need anything else mixed in.”

Kostas nods. With drink in hand and notebook under arm, he heads over to the north edge of this tower rooftop, taking a spot not far from where Krvavy had been standing. “Now that the smoke has cleared and the cleanup has begun, I felt it prudent to survey Svaneti of the damages sustained,” he absentmindedly explains, treating the relatively chunky crenel like a desk as he pulls a fountain pen from his pocket and gets to work.

Krvavy, likewise, turns back towards the sun. Towards the direction of her home. Towards her girls. All of them, technically. She steps right up to a more eastward spot along the crenellated railing, leaning a little further forward and resting more of her weight against a solid stone merlon. Her eyes peer down and to the right, at the windows to Thea’s old bedroom. Even if the curtains weren’t drawn, she wouldn’t be able to see anything inside that room at this angle.

Still... three of her girls are in there... the other two – and a slime that contains a small sliver of her soul – are so much further away...

The Drakling takes a small sip of her tea.

Thinking about it... She should really check up on Lynn, to see if that gluttonous blob is still behaving herself. Beryl has probably kept her in line, but... It is a little anxiety inducing, leaving that hungry puddle almost alone with the delicious snack that is Inanna... No... snack isn’t quite right... Not with the sheer size of that shortstack’s tits... Even just a single one of those massive mountains is more akin to a full course meal...

Hardly a sound can be heard from the land below, just the faintest crooning calls of a couple roosters seemingly competing about which one can crow the loudest.

This barbarian’s unfocused brain gradually slows, her aimless thoughts fading away as she stands atop this tall tower, emerald eyes idly watching as the survivors of this recently sieged settlement slowly begin to start their day. Directly below her, some of this castle’s servants are already getting to work in the rooftop gardens, preparing the plants that still remain in their plots for the coming winter. Further beyond, those who lost their homes are emerging from the temporary tents set up within the safety of the curtain walls. Even farther out, scaffolding is being set up around some damaged buildings. Ruins are being salvaged. Dots of fluffy white are let out into their pastures. Wooden stakes and soldiers –

“Do you know why the Duke of Volhynia was so intent on taking our lands?”

That sudden question snaps Krvavy from her mindless daze, the still steaming tea in her half-filled cup sloshing up to the rim.

“There are many reasons and factors that would have influenced that decision, of course.” The idleness of that tone fades with each spoken word. “But I believe one would have stood above the others in his mind.” A tinge of curiosity lingers in Kostas’ voice, growing thicker and solidifying into a more focused question. “And I wonder what you may think it to be?”

The Drakling tilts her head but doesn’t turn to look at her eventual brother-in-law. A few possible answers flit through her mind, only to be discarded one by one.

A simple glance at the devastation that the Duke brought to Svaneti is enough to make it obvious that he didn’t try to conquer this place for its people. Those that didn’t die or flee wouldn’t be loyal to him. They would need constant oversight and the threat of force to be kept in line. His own subjects would have to settle this land, outnumbering those who originally called it their home.

A slightly longer look is all it takes to see that resources weren’t the main focus of his invasion. Svaneti is not the most affluent or rich, though neither is it a particularly poor place. While Krvavy isn’t the most knowledgeable when it comes to the local economy, she has seen and heard enough to to know that, here, wealth is obtained primarily from the land. From fields and pastures. From livestock. Sheep more than anything else, it would seem. Pillaging and razing all that stands in ones way is not the most effective method of obtaining food, wool, and textiles. Not in the long-term.

And though Svaneti was an easy target, a backwater nestled at the edge of civilization with only one other neighbour to be worried by the changing border... Conquest for the sake of conquest, to paint colours on a map, doesn’t quite fit a man as militaristic as the Duke.

But what about treating it as a training exercise for his army? A trail by fire, so to speak? No... Even that isn’t enough on its own. A significant amount of those soldiers never actually attacked Svaneti. Most didn’t leave their encampments. Some still haven’t left... So only a few, relatively speaking, were tested.

Perhaps... perhaps Svaneti wasn’t the true target. It could have just been a staging ground against a more valuable and more important foe. Against Raseyne. The majority of that army was stationed to the north, between this town and that city. But... Then why bother with getting engaged to Thea? Marrying the Baron’s youngest child wouldn’t be justification enough to drag Svaneti into such an aggressive war. And the whole kidnapping thing is... a bit convoluted for that. Too much effort for simply treating this place as a springboard.

Krvavy’s brow knits together. The Duke’s last words... his frustration...

“Dovoryn foresaw some sort of threat.” The Dragon slowly states, her words carried towards Kostas by the gentle wind. “All of this,” the hand not holding her teacup vaguely gestures past the crenellations. “It was all, in some roundabout way, a step towards dealing with that.”

The nobleman is silent for a good long second. “What threat could that be?” He almost hesitantly asks.

“I haven’t a clue.” Well, that’s not entirely true. The Duke knew about whatever ‘game’ the Gods are playing, with their Champions and whatnot. So he could have been preparing to go against someone like Krvavy. But that isn’t too likely. After all, he only seemed to believe that the Gods were doing something after being given proof of their intervention in the form of Krvavy coming back from the dead.

So maybe the Duke was just being dramatic, with his frustration and his last words? Or maybe his arrogance led him to truly believe that countless people would be doomed without his iron fist to guide their lives? It honestly could go either way.

“Mnn...” The light tktktk of a pen being tapped against solid stone accompanies Kostas’ concerned hum. “That is worrying. But...” He audibly takes a deep breath. “It does relate to – and in fact strengthens – what I believe to be the primary cause for his invasion. And for what that may be, I ask you this: if the Duke foresaw a threat that pushed him towards such brutal conquest, then why risk injury to himself and his men by attacking when we still had fight left in us? He could have annihilated all of our defensive positions via the use of his siege weapons before simply stepping into the ruins and proclaiming himself victor.”

“Because,” there are a few arguments Krvavy could make against that, but one feels much more obvious than the others. “If he had destroyed everything here, then he would have nothing to use to defend against whatever that threat could be. He wanted those defensive positions for himself.”

“Precisely!” Kostas all but cheers, a tinge of pride underlining that single word. “Now tell me, what defences of ours would he want? Svaneti is too sprawling to be contained within the safety of walls.”

The Drakling resists the urge to shoot a glare back over her shoulder. She sees now why Thea didn’t like it when this particular brother of hers would try to help her study. Kostas could just say what he is thinking, but instead he is trying to lead Krvavy to the same conclusion. And while that is good for teaching... it would definitely get annoying if he did this all the time. Especially for a girl with as little patience as Thea.

“Obviously, he wanted this castle.” Krvavy’s emerald eyes drop down to the land below, drawn towards one of many rather similarly shaped stone structures. “And all of those towers.”

“Indeed. Though I would also add the... Do you see those fairly simple stone-brick buildings? Two stories tall, with a square or rectangular floorplan?” Evidently, Kostas is looking over towards the Drakling, as a simple nod is all it takes for him to continue. “We call those bastle houses. The name is derived from the same source as bastion, but generally most people here call them such as they are effectively a barn mixed with a castle.”

The barbarian’s brow knits together. How does that explanation still work even with Not So Cunning Linguist effectively translating everything Krvavy hears into something she can actually understand...?

“Those bastles are a remnant of Svaneti’s more tumultuous past. A time when being beset by raiders was the norm.” The scholarly nobleman pauses for a brief moment, perhaps looking over the land that is the subject of this lecture. “Our people needed to keep themselves and their livestock safe from such dangers. Thus they built fireproof, fortified barns where the ground floor would be a space for the animals to sleep while the one above – and perhaps an attic space if the roof was tall enough – would be for themselves, accessible via a ladder which can be pulled up for further security.”

Krvavy ever so slightly strains her eyes, staring into the distance towards a few of the ‘bastles’ in question. She is now a little late to see any animals being let out of those barn-like buildings, the various types of livestock having already been released into their pastures, but she can definitely see that they could be used for that very purpose.

“The towers of Svaneti are a natural evolution of that.” Kostas continues on, his tone mostly neutral yet still tinged with the faintest hint of passion. “As you may have noticed, each one has a bastle at its base, for they were built onto those already existing structures. These towers were originally meant as purely defensive additions, but overtime have come to be treated as simply another part of the dwellings they are attached to, another room to live in or to use for safe storage. Likewise, their bastles tend to be more home than barn nowadays, typically having at least half of the ground floor partitioned off for personal use.”

A sip of cooling but still rather warm tea passes through Krvavy’s pale lips. Her gaze trails across those various towers and blocky barn homes. Some of them, not many at all, have a curtain wall of sorts surrounding them. Though not particularly tall ones. They’re more like thick stone privacy fences then the walls that surround this castle.

“Ahem.” Kostas abruptly clears his throat. “All of that to say... Our land is dotted with defensive structures that a man like the Duke would see value in. And even though said defences are on the smaller side... you can still see how effective they were and still are.”

There are still plenty of empty pastures out there, but most have at least a few animals already milling about on the ashy grass. And, beyond the very rare wooden barn that was lucky enough to escape the flames, that wouldn’t be possible without those stone ‘bastles’. Not at this point, so soon after the siege.

Without a place to safely shelter those livestock, the only option a farmer would have to keep them from being slaughtered or stolen would be to herd them away from the danger. Which carries its own risks. As well as the question on if those animals, and their owners, will ever return at all.

“Though, as you said,” that scholarly nobleman’s voice draws the Drakling from her thoughts. “This castle of ours was, of course, his true and main target.”

Krvavy idly nods. “Yeah, it is... a lot bigger than I expected.”

“And for that, I cannot blame you. Our land is not the most heavily developed. There are few truly large structures within Svaneti itself, and none are grander than this one that you are standing in right now. By quite a margin too.” A hint of pride underlines Kostas’ words. “Our castle here even rivals those of other, more prosperous lands within the region in its size and defensive capabilities.” A quiet moment follows as that nobleman takes a sip of his tea. “Though a different sight would have stood here, had you arrived earlier... approximately three centuries earlier.”

“Yeah, time tends to have that effect.”

“Ha!” That single, genuine laugh carries through the air. “You can be quite the smartass, I see. That must surely aggravate my dear sister~.”

A smile plays at Krvavy’s lips, emerald eyes dropping back down to those two windows. “She’s half the reason I’m like this.” Warmth and love fills those wistfully sighed words. “It is just so fun to pester her~...”

“Mmh.” Kostas hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “Now, as I was saying...” He takes a deep breath and resumes his impromptu history lesson. “This castle of ours has stood atop this hill for over a millennia, albeit not always as it is now. In the earliest days, it was little more than a wooden fort, but over time it grew. Additional buildings sprung up around it – and I do not mean the settlement that would become Svaneti, but rather parts of what would become the castle complex – including the kitchens and the barracks, which were both said to have stood where ours currently are.”

The Drakling turns her gaze to the space between this castle’s two northernmost towers, a large number of chimneys rising from the shingled roof that stretches between them. While she hasn’t seen the kitchens herself... Krvavy is pretty sure they are under all of that. Likewise, she only vaguely knows that the barracks are on the complete other side of this building, somewhere on its south end.

“As the centuries wore on, the fort became a proper keep and the outer walls grew to encompass a larger area, changing from simple palisades to sturdier earthenworks. Eventually, wood was replaced with stone. Thus formed the core of what is today Castle Mestia. The central segment, which nowadays contains the main halls as well as rooms for both guests and ourselves – the lords’ family – to sleep.”

Krvavy tilts her head ever so slightly to the side. That would mean that the ‘original’ stone keep was only about a quarter or so the size of this current castle, if even that. Which, funnily enough, was closer to what Krvavy had expected Thea’s family home to be like. This is the seat of power for a baron, after all. Not a king or a duke. Not even a count.

A quiet clink rings out as Kostas places his teacup back down onto the crenel turned makeshift desk. “The keep remained as such, as a fairly simple structure, for... quite a long time. Up until that point, roughly three centuries ago.”

“When these other towers were added onto it?” Krvavy idly guesses, the cool morning breeze gently blowing around her crimson hair.

The scholarly nobleman nods, that motion just visible at the edge of Krvavy’s vision. “Correct. And perhaps more so than you may think. Unlike the gradual evolution of what would be its keep, the rest of our castle was constructed within the span of a single decade. A truly remarkable feat only made possible thanks to our erstwhile friends, the Dwarves.”

The barbarian’s brow lifts up little, though not entirely in surprise. She knows that there are Dwarves somewhere vaguely to the southeast, maybe a bit more east, of here. And she also knows that at least some of them were willing to trade and make deals with the Humans of these lands, as evidenced by Inanna being brought to the surface. But... Nothing about this place feels Dwarven...

“They were not nearly as... reclusive... in those times, you see, and our position as first along the route from their Hold led to a period of prosperity for Svaneti.” This nobleman’s tone, tinged with a professional amount of passion for history, darkens ever so faintly. “But it also put a target on our backs.” Kostas pauses for a fraction of a second. His words aren’t quite so heavy when he resumes speaking. “Thus, much of the wealth gained from trading with those dependable mountain folk was used to bolster our defences, to create our castle as you see it now: a secure position in which force can be projected from.”

Krvavy turns slightly, lazily leaning against the crenellated wall as she faces her future brother-in-law. “So were these extra towers, and the bits between, just built with the money from that trade? Or did the Dwarves, well, help out?”

“The latter, though not for free.” Kostas replies, looking towards the inhuman lover of his youngest and only sister. Sky blue eyes once more meet an emerald pair. “The Dwarves were heavily involved in the construction of all that now stands here today. They designed it, in fact. Albeit not in their style. A purposeful decision on part of my ancestors, according to the records, and one that I do begrudge a bit, if I must admit. It would have been a wonder to have a castle of genuine Dwarven design standing at the center of Svaneti...”

“That would have been quite the sight...” The Drakling agrees, finding her gaze drawn back to the east. Towards her home. Towards her own Dwarf. And her Dryad. And that squishy slime too.

The nobleman nods. “Still, the construction was of amazing quality, far better than what we are capable of even today, so I should not complain. The foundations that were laid reach down to bedrock. The walls that were built are sturdy beyond belief, reinforced against the ravages of time and bearing an impressive resistance against magic.”

Krvavy’s brow furrows faintly. That resistance can’t be too impressive, considering that she had no issue using Sculpt Stone to both seal off a doorway and impale a knight. Though, then again, she only really needed a thin surface layer of stone to do either of those things...

Either way, bragging about those defences feels... a bit hollow. They didn’t slow the Duke down one bit. He just cut his way straight through the wooden doors... And, even if the walls would have withstood the attack, his artillery definitely could have caved in the roofs, burning away the upper floors...

“Then there are the towers. There is much I could say of them, but in lieu of a long winded lecture...” Kostas takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. “I shall simply direct your attention towards the broadest of them, though it is only so by a small margin.” With fountain pen in hand, he points across the rooftop gardens far below, towards the stout drum which stands at the northeast corner of this castle. “That is our aptly named Store Tower. It is primarily a storehouse, even containing a grain silo in its very center. That is what is rising from its expansive platform.”

“So that whole thing is full of food?” Krvavy curiously asks, looking over to that large stone cylinder. It is huge. Not the tallest, but still very wide.

“Well, no. Not exactly.” The nobleman admits, sounding like a teacher correcting their student’s nearly correct assumption. “Even disregarding the fact that other goods are stored in there as well... The walls are incredibly thick, disturbed only by an encircling passageway on the first floor and additional quarters for the servants on the second, as to ensure the safety of what is stored within. Which takes up a fair bit of space.”

Krvavy tilts her head and stares even more intently at that tower. She can’t see through stone, or tell how thick said stone is, but even if only half of it is used for storage... it will still be able to store a lot of stuff. That silo alone must contain an immense amount of grain just from its height.

“That said, it still holds a significant amount of supplies.” Kostas states, directly confirming what the Drakling is thinking. “Enough to have kept all the castle residents – us, the servants, and the soldiers – well fed for at least a year. Two with rationing. Three, if we pulled our belts tighter. So had the Duke lacked in power, we would have been just fine in a prolonged siege. Though those outside of the castle, the people who make Svaneti what it is, would no doubt have suffered much more...”

Krvavy can’t help but glance down to the space between this castle and its curtain walls, her gaze trailing across the countless tents that cover almost the entirety of those grounds. “I take it that most, if not all, of those supplies will get used up this winter?”

A weary sigh whispers past Kostas’ lips, his tempered enthusiasm fading under the weight of these current circumstances. “Yes. What could sustain less than a hundred for months upon months will hardly last a fraction of that time when split amongst many a thousand different mouths. There are other stores within Svaneti that survived, so we are not guaranteed a famine, but... it will be tight. And I fear for the livestock as well. Many a hayshed had gone up in flame, reducing the feed they will have when the snow comes. Farmers will be pressed into culling their livestock, no doubt, and while that will lead to more food for the people... it will also hurt us in the coming years.”

The Drakling takes a sip of her rather lukewarm tea. It doesn’t taste quite as good now that it isn’t steaming hot. She softly shakes her head and downs the rest of that drink.

The morning sun now stands a fair bit above the horizon, long shadows cast by its warm light. The myriad souls of Svaneti have, for the most part, already begin their long day. Few linger in the tents set up in this castle’s grounds, even the women and children helping to clean and repair the damage dealt to their homeland.

“Well...” A quiet tink marks the little teacup’s return to its tray. “I should probably go and make sure Thea is awake.” The barbarian’s back arches a bit, her spine straightening out as her arms reach high above her head. “Nnhhh...” A soft groan accompanies that stretch. “Can’t have that girl sleep the whole day away.”

“Ah... right.” Kostas blinks, his gaze dropping down to the notebook in front of him. “And I should get back to work... See you later, then.”