The Grand Duchy of Geoff

27th of Readying CY 617

And for the last time, Chancellor, my people are tired of the inaction from the Griffon Throne. We bring you rumors of something dark
from the Stark Mounds and not a whisper of help or aid comes from Gorna.

With all due respect, plenipotentiary, your people dont know you are here and you dont speak for anyone officially. This isnt even a
legitimate meeting, as far as the Brenin is concerned.

Things in the Mounds are.complicated at the moment. The gnome continues, shoulders rolling back a bit. He shuffles in his
stance, still showing confidence, but with a clear show of uneasiness.

Overcompensating, Idris Marsheye, Chancellor of Geoff, thinks. His position isnt very strong, but this must be scaring them to send
an unofficial messenger to treat with the Brenin, and, truthfully, he doesnt even speak for Ingot. So lost in thought, Idris almost missed
the gnomes statement. Our pleas have gone unanswered for quite some time. If Owen and the llwyrs arent going to act, we might
be forced to look elsewhere for help. There is an elaborate pause on the last sentence, a huge gambit on the gnomes part.

Idris calculates a three second pause, grabs the armrests of his chair and smiles through tight lips. I have many meetings today,
Plenipotentiary, many with complaints about your new tolls within the mounds.. Im afraid my response will need to wait till tomorrow.

* * *

The window of the keep showed the breadth of the Downlands, ending in the soft glow of the city of Aberglain. Emyr Cadwaler, newly
llwyr, looks out, propping his arms and hands on the stone. Attendants are packing trunks for a journey. There is a knock at the door,
but the messenger doesnt wait for the acknowledgement.

Come Emyr sees that servant enter and gives a tiny sigh. In. Yes? His voice is tired and stern, but not upset.

Recent figures, my lord. Tolls from the Stark Mounds increase again this month. Seven more of our guards have been killed or
catatonic in attacks within the mounds, and

Thank you, steward, that will be all. He says softly, his mind still on the lights of Aberglain.

The families of the dead, my lord. They need news, recompense for their loss, the steward asks hesitantly.

An eternity seems to pass as the new llwyr mulls over his current situation. He was already on the way to a funeral; the child of one of
his local lords. Seven more funerals for seven more men and women shipping goods across the Downlands and the Stark Mounds.

Steward. Write down these names, men and women Ive travelled with recently. Find them. Deputize them. Some of them will meet
with me tomorrow and send the rest of them to Gorna. I need answers to questions only the Chancellor can answer

You can find out what happens with the llwyr, chancellor and the gnomes by playing both Old Ways, New Customs and
Punchline at GADCon in Aberdeen, MD on March 4th and 5th