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High King James of Eire, Scotland, and the Isles Options · View
James Craig
Posted: Sunday, July 16, 2017 1:48:20 PM
 1st Lieutenant

Joined: 2/1/2013
Posts: 174
Location: Scotland
A cold wind blew out of the east as the Irish forces marched in long lines towards the Fortress of Inbhir Tarbhainn. The High King scowled at the defiant Norse flag hanging above it. It had been a long road to get here on the far side f the Isles from his beloved home in Dublhin. As he watched the gates of the fortress, he contemplated the futility of the men inside, outnumbered ten to one and far from home or help. Even from here he could see as they cheered from atop the low stone wall, crashing their shields and axes together in defiance. It reminded him of the stories his father once told him of the crusade in the Moorish state of Andalucia. They too were confident that the Irish could be halted by willpower and fortification alone. That was another world from the one he stood in now. Times were growing brighter by the day, and prospects for his Kingdom were high, save for his dark little problem.

He turned towards his tend and strode past his Royal Guard. Inside the pavillion like structure the ground was covered in fine furs and masterfully carved furniture. Even a four post bed had been brought for his comfort on the road. Such luxury was not afforded to any In the British Isles save for him and perhaps the puppet King of the Saxons. He smiled at the thought of what his forbears had done to build his throne.

Sitting in the corner in chains was a small girl, no more than a handful of years old. She looked pitiful, but likely had been given luxuries she never thought possible in the brief time that she had been Imprisoned. All in gratitude for the services being provided to his army. Even as he stood there in the cold November air of northern Scotland, he could hear the war-horns begin to bray. The assault on the fortress would begin within minutes. All thanks to this little girl and her doting father.

"Relax, and keep warm child. Your father has come through at last."

The king eyed the timid girl with some compassion. She likely did not understand a word he was saying. It would be far too much to ask that the entire world speak the King's Irish. As he stepped over to pour himself a glass of fine Aquitanian wine His mind fell to the other prisoners being held back in Dublhin, and their far more horrific conditions. Several counts and even a duke who had betrayed the crown decades ago still languish there, kept since the days his father. Any one of them would have ample reason to curse his name and all of the children associated with Clan Craig. Best that they never leave their dark homes.

Stepping out once again and looking out over the rocky hilltops towards the fortress, the King watched as his men marched into the fortress. A quick motion the the Guards set them to task. Undoubtedly there would be fighting within, but many of the Thane's men would stand down on his order. After all, the Irish had his only daughter. It was too bad that he was a staunch worshipper of the old gods. It was the one sticking point in his agreement with the man. He was told that he would keep his land and be given his daughter if he would open up the gates for the Irish Knights and lay down arms. While he could not guarentee the men loyal to the Norse King, his own men would do as they were told.

Finishing his glass of wine, The High King tossed it over the small rocky cliff and listed to it shatter on the rocks below. He turned to enter his tent, and watched as one of his guards dropped the limp body over the side to join the shattered glass. He could already smell the fires coming from the fortress, mixed with the cold sea air and the smell of burning flesh. Even from here it was strong and overpowering. returning to his tent, he retired for the night, content that the day had ended exactly as he had hoped.

Vae Victis!
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