What Happened Last Session
The Crown Earned in Blood
Dawn broke over Drakenfjell as Carmin and Signe entered the stone circle for the final trial. The sacred fire burned low, waiting for divine judgment. Both warriors had earned their place through brutality and skill—Signe by achieving her revenge against Karlsgald, Carmin by ending Olaf’s corrupted reign. Now they faced each other with the future of the Isles of Andrik hanging in the balance.
The Axe of Nine Eyes sang in Carmin’s hands, each strike carrying the weight of destiny. Signe fought with the fierce precision of a warrior who’d survived betrayal and scarring, but Carmin’s mastery proved superior. When he brought her to the edge of death, Signe yielded with honor intact. Rogden proclaimed the judgment: Carmin was High King, the first unified ruler in generations, his authority sealed by divine trial and witnessed by the gods themselves.
Power Shared, Burden Divided
Carmin surprised everyone by immediately delegating day-to-day governance to Kilmin. The move was brilliant in its pragmatism—Carmin retained the unquestionable legitimacy that only combat victory could provide, while Kilmin’s merchant connections and administrative experience would handle the mundane complexities of ruling three fractious villages. Rogden stepped forward to endorse his son’s elevation, pledging guidance and support. Even Signe, fresh from defeat, acknowledged the wisdom of the arrangement.
The political maneuvering paid immediate dividends. Kilmin promised 300 gold pieces and a sailboat waiting at Gandrunne—not the galleon originally discussed, but a practical compensation he could actually deliver. You gained two new followers as well: Ivar and Hagen, former bandits who swore loyalty to your cause. The pieces had fallen exactly where you needed them.
Mysteries in Dark Waters
The journey to Gandrunne should have been a victory lap. Instead, fourteen war mastiffs attacked your longboat near the coast—trained combat animals with no visible handlers, no explanation for their presence, no reason to be in these remote waters. The naval battle was chaos: dogs trying to board the vessel, the party fighting from unstable footing, salt spray and blood mixing in the chop.
You defeated them all, but the victory felt hollow. Someone had trained those mastiffs. Someone had deployed them precisely where you’d be sailing. The timing was too convenient, the threat too organized to be random wilderness. As you sailed on toward Gandrunne, the unanswered questions gnawed at the triumph. You’d unified the isles and positioned yourselves as the power behind the throne, but forces were moving in the dark that you didn’t yet understand.
Looking Ahead
Carmin is High King, Kilmin handles the administration, and you’ve secured payment that waits at Gandrunne. The political gambit succeeded beyond expectation—you transformed from near-criminals plotting theft and murder into the architects of legitimate unification. But the mastiff attack suggests that not everyone approves of the new order, and whoever sent those dogs commands resources and coordination that exceeds random bandits or disgruntled villagers.
The 300 gold and sailboat at Gandrunne represent immediate reward, but they’re also leverage for bigger ambitions. You’ve tasted political influence and found it profitable. The question isn’t whether you’ll collect your payment—it’s whether you’ll use it to return to Wildetide and simpler lives, or whether the throne you helped create will keep pulling you into deeper waters where trained war dogs are just the opening move.
The crown may determine who rules, but true power lies in knowing when to share it wisely.