Every realm has lost something, all of them have lost most of what they once had. But it could be said that the Iron Valley feels that sharpest. For them, they didn’t just lose their future, but their past as well. Those thousands of memories carved into stone markers, the lintels of family homes, and the beautiful carvings of the grand halls. All lost and unseen for more years than bears counting. As time has passed, there is a growing population of young folk who don’t know Anderslee or Brotherslee as more than ‘the place that your parents drink to when it gets dark out’.
But these young folk won’t have a future if their parents sit back and let the world pass them into dusty memory. The Valleyfolk have to defend the last pieces they have with one hand while striking while the iron is hot with the other. Which is precisely what they mean to do.
A Little Birdy Told Me
The Steinvaults in the Winter Season are always quiet - the howling wind through frozen peaks and valleys does almost nothing to abate the nothingness that a landscape empty of people holds. The people of the Boar Clan that remained in their fortifications must clearly have fled from behind their walls, racing into stone hovels and holes hidden from Concordian prying eyes prior to the settling of the overwhelming amount of snow and frost that claims the territory.
This should, in theory, have made the movement of the Iron Brawlers to clear out the villages on their way from the Pass - to ensure the territory was well and truly claimed by The Concord and improve their own takings - significantly easier. They would simply make their way towards the scant villages that exist at such heights, take whatever remained, and the people would go down the mountain in response. A logical conclusion, and one informed by every decision-making person involved.
When the front of Iron Brawlers, led by Brigadier Griff Baker, traced their way through the first village, it was quieter than had been expected. And, when they broke down the doors of the first home, there was significantly less than expected to take. And significantly fewer people there, too. For a village that looked to house hundreds of civilians, there were fewer than twenty remaining. The Brigadier racked his brains, attempting to remember how many people of the Boars Head Clan the Warden had said remained in the region this Summit past - many, surely. But that many?
Still, this was not their concern - they had their orders, given by Count Lindwyrm, the Warden of the Pass, to take what they could, and to be on their merry way. An action informed by every decision-making person involved. So take they did - they left, arms and hardy wagons ladened with food, resources, weapons and firewood until all that remained of the settlement of hundreds were a handful of shivering villagers.
By the time the rear of the army made their way through the same village, all that remained were a handful of still corpses.
But, they had done what they had been told - their actions informed by every decision-making person involved.
And when fewer than anticipated ‘refugees’ of the Boars Head Clan made their way to Heinsgraf, the closest settlement to the home they had now been deposed of, their arrival was exactly what had been anticipated; invalids, old, young, sick and weak, brought to the settlement after trekking through the freezing cold of the Steinvaults. They shuffled with sneers of indignation on their faces at the sight of Concordians, even while their forms shivered and shook in the few layers they had been able to put on before being instructed to journey by the soldiers of the army.
Those same sneers, for the most part, remained, as many froze to death in the streets of Heinsgraff - in part due to their hostility to the hospitality of The Concord, and in part due to the lack of love that the people of Heinsgraff had for these foreign invaders. There were few willing to part with their hard-earned food, or much-needed fire-wood for those who had stolen neighbours, or butchered cattle that belonged to them.
It was not until one Boars Head Clan refugee, a young boy with calf-like brown eyes, no older than five, was taken in by one of the more forgiving families of the settlement, that it became clear than situations informed by every decision-making person involved did not necessarily mean title-holder - that all Heroes of The Concord are those with the ability to make decisions, for good or ill.
“I’m sorry - I din mean to upset ‘em. They was just sad about me being cold, and I wanned to let ‘em know tha it was okay,” the boy later said to the civil servant who had been called to attend to the situation. “My friend Billy gave me his teddy to cuddle an then wen off up in the peak with his mum, so I wasn really that cold. An his mum said tha the con-cold-ian who sen the letter said tha the people in Heinsgraff would help. An they would take me with ‘em but the village din have enough wagons to take everyone, so they had to leave some us behind. But tha’s why I got teddy.”
The story was confirmed by other refugees, bribed by hot stew and warm chairs in the civil service hub - that a Concordian Hero had written to the people of The Boar’s Head Clan to warn them of the plan of the title-holders, and that many had prepared and fled, likely to be with their warriors in places hidden.
If only armies could travel as quickly as Civil Service Couriers.
Game Information:
Based on the decisions of Heroes of The Concord, both title-holders and not, the villages of the Boar’s Head Clan were swept for resources and people, with The Iron Brawlers taking the former, and informally escorting the latter that remained to Heinsgraf.
While many refugees made it to Heinsgraf to be met by varying degrees of hospitality by the denizens, it was revealed that most had been forewarned of the intended actions of the Warden of the Pass - to starve and freeze them out through taking their food and firewood - and had instead taken actions into their own hands, fleeing into The Steinvault mountains, along with their warriors.
It is estimated that 30% of the Boars Head Clan civilians remain in the Steinvault Pass, after a harsh winter with few supplies. Another 30% made the journey to Heinsgraf, and about half of those starved and froze on the streets there, waiting for promised aid that was smoke and hatred. Those that survived Heinsgraf become vagrants wandering Windholme or are young enough to pull on the heartstrings and find a home.
There will be decisions to be made by various titleholders, including the Warden of the Pass and the Senator of Windholme, relating to the Boar’s Clan refugees, both those that remained, and escaped.
The Metronome of Belief
The Valley is nothing if not proud, loud and always willing to take up a cause. It has defined generations of Boroughs, the paths of Huscarls, and been the core of at least a few brawls and Sokn Duels. More recently, it has defined The Valley’s ideology. Pulling from two simple causes and raising them up into great beliefs, ideals that would shape not just the people as they are now, but the very future of The Iron Valley, High and Low.
For a few Seasons, this ideology has firmly rested under the blooded antlers of The Bloodglass Inheritors. Barely a few Summits past, a great majority of the heroes of The Valley adorned their brows with The Inheritor’s icons, and it was towards this Inheritance that those in power pushed towards. It was this firm belief that The Inheritance was to be the future of The Valley that pushed the people of Eastern Windholme to take up fervent arms against invaders. It was this surety that a history of conquerors was to be claimed as a present mind, and a future goal, that allowed The Bloodglass Inheritance to spread so wide.
But this belief, so it would turn out, was not truly shared by the majority of the heroes of The Concord. Despite adorning their icons in the not-too distant past, the heroic support for The Inheritance would fade away, seemingly forgotten in favour of its opposition. The Greatstone Carvers, a belief that mirrors The Inheritance in many ways, but turns the oppressive violence of The Inheritance towards a more stoic remembrance of what remains, and what must be carried forward and kept alive.
Over the past Season a great number of Valleyfolk heroes, those who found themselves at home rather than away from the Highs or Lows, would speak to their beliefs. There were some speaking of The Inheritor’s, but their number would be less than half of those who would stand and speak loudly of what The Carver’s have to offer instead.
In Jaalstead this speaks more true than nearly anywhere else. Senator Ranhilde, despite herself being unable to be present to show her support, would ensure that The Greatstone Carver’s beliefs are echoed nonetheless. With the commission of The Sea Hall, and a gentle guiding of brawling rings into more fruitful, and less mindlessly violent, training yards, the bloodlust of conquerors would quickly fade in favour of the calm steel of those who would focus inwards.
The beliefs of The Greatstone Carvers are loudly personified, and this inward focus has been a great blow to the unyielding progress of The Bloodglass Inheritors. Where The Inheritors would focus their efforts towards martial skill for the sake of conquering, The Carvers would do so for the sake of protection. Where The Inheritors would throw their hungry gaze out towards territories beyond, and the lands of old, The Carvers would look in towards the territories already claimed, and what can be done to improve them yet further.
This conflict of ideology has sparked once more, brought to ignition by the beliefs of the very heroes that define The Valley. The people are not in arms over such a spark, excepting rare circumstances in the most heated of conversations, but The Valley as a whole takes a breath as the metronome of belief strikes back to neutral.
Game Information
The Greatstone Carvers sees a great number of heroes come to its support over the past Season, spreading word of its ideology in taking care of what remains, rather than risking it all to push outwards. This is in direct opposition to The Bloodglass Inheritors, which has so far been the primary belief of The Valley in recent Seasons. Having said this, The Inheritor’s find themselves outnumbered, and unable to match the energy of The Carvers across The Valley, both High and Low.
This has caused the people of The Iron Valley to pause, less confident now in their way forward. They wait, keenly watching the heroic contingent once more, waiting to see if the path for The Valley is one to be set in stone, or gained in blood.
There will be many decisions for various Titleholders regarding the ideology of The Valley this coming Summit.
Windholme East has not yet lost its Inheritor’s Trait, but may do so depending on the result of many of these decisions.
No Applause for Foreign Players
Imagine, if you will, a criminal in The Concord. Someone who takes what they want and will do anything for what they need. Someone whose loyalty belongs only to coin, comrades, and whatever craze currently afflicts them, in that order. Someone on the run, with no home outside the darkest refuges of scum and villainy.
Did you imagine a Lerona Merite?
It’s an easy mistake. But every Concordian would do well to avoid assuming that the City of Legends is also the City of Thieves, even if it is. That assumption can blind you to your own homegrown villainy, the kind that often stands in opposition to the foreign wrongdoings that slip over the border, stolen blade in hand.
The Midnight Market. It's Blue-Masked Man. Its air of maddening revelry. The rumors that the fae had come down from the Weald to deal in mischief and misery. All of it? Careful theatrics. A syndicate of Lerona Mere fences, carnival folk, and simple bruisers who knew how to blend libations, illusions, and liberated goods into something that felt magical, impossible, and therefore easy to gamble on. Add a splash of minor magic, sprinkle in stolen wares from distant corners, sell them in Bolsterlee with a flair for drama—and suddenly, you’ve got the perfect mirage: one that draws in celebrity and confounds the authorities.
Unfortunately for the Blue-Masked Man, identified now as a mid-tier Lerona Mere capo by the name of Scuppers, the plan had flaws.
First: that much flash and flair gets you noticed. And while that’s somewhat the point, any amount of notice is dangerous. Some magistrate is bound to take an interest. Spheres forbid a Senator does too.
Second: this isn’t Legend City. You can’t just strangle and stab the native criminal competition and expect it to blend into the background felonious noise. There isn’t any such background, not the kind that regularly includes murder, anyway. And while folks may be glad to see their local ne’er-do-wells disappear, that doesn’t mean they want you in their place. Especially when your more unhinged members twist the neck of the only magistrate in the region, leaving his body to bob against the Jaalstead rocks like so much bureaucratic driftwood.
Third, and this is the one that surprises you, dear Scuppers, you see the noose tightening. You recognize that the magistrate was a step too far. So, you pack up, head nor-east. More people in Windholme anyway. Let the Grand Inquest close on smoke in your wake while you slip into Brakkenloh or Abelard and hatch a new scheme. One last insult to the Senators who ruined your business, because you just can’t help yourself. Then off you go—scot-free into the high places.
But you made the same mistake as the readers of this Winds entry. You thought the only criminals worth noting wore fancy hats and were belched into the world straight onto the blood-stained streets of revolution. You figured the “right people” of the Valley were the lone wolves and yapping dogs you stomped out in Bolsterlee. You didn’t think the packs up in the high altitudes might be a bit more numerous. Or better fed.
The Thirteenth Three comes and goes, just another piece of mummer’s farce to gawp the locals. The Midnight Market slips under Deorling’s Citadel, vanishes into the cold air of winter. And as the last of the Grand Inquest confirms what was listed above; that the Midnight Market was a Lerona Mere criminal organization with a flair for spectacle and a taste for control, it seems they got spooked. Missteps. A magistrate’s death. The looming threat of formal retribution. They fled into Windholme, narrowly avoiding capture only because the inquest’s jurisdiction didn’t quite reach them.
But then something arrives at the Civil Service offices in Brakkenloh: a broken blue-gilded mask, left neatly on the stairs.
It seems the Midnight Market has crossed into territory already claimed. Windholme has its own criminal ecosystem; The Thralldring. Named for the networks of runaway thralls; near-slaves from the days of the Great Iron Empires, the Thralldring manages the Grimreeves of Windholme and their boroughs of cutpurses, digger-thieves, and bruisers. They keep the peace. And they do not take kindly to interlopers.
Welcome to Windholme. Don’t bother wiping your feet.
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Game Information
The grand inquest into the strangling murders in Bolsterlee has unearthed answers along the trail of the Midnight Market, doing much to reveal this decidedly mundane criminality for what it is. The mystery is revealed just in time for the criminals to flee the region. But the inquest does act as a hound among the foxes, flushing them into Windholme in a sloppy manner, ready to be picked off by the hunters in place, all for the low price of a single vault.
The Thralldring, Windholme’s own organised criminal element, appears to have acted quickly. It remains unclear if the Marketers have been killed, captured, banished, or some combination of the above. But it seems likely that they will cease to be a problem going forward, at least in the same manner.
However, the Thralldring are unlikely to let an advantage or a good deed go unpunished. The Senator of Windholme and the High Reeves Council should expect contact from the Grimreeves of the High Places this coming summit, with decisions regarding the Iron Valley’s less savoury elements.
Salt-Spray, Timber and Heart
Jaalstead has been known for little since its founding beyond its name. It is no less important a place to The Valley than any of its cousin settlements, but it had yet to find its true purpose. Sure, it was a port town, but any stack of wood could be a port to a skilled enough Jarl. It had no true calling, no true mark, for many years. Such a thing would finally change.
It was, aptly, Ranhilde, the Senator of Bolsterlee and a Jarl herself, who would see such a mark made on the Low-Valley town. Appraised by her motion in the Winter of 224, and motioned once more to be constructed in the Autumn of 225, it was clear that this piece of true infrastructure would be of great value to the people of Bolsterlee, and Jaalstead itself far more.
News of The Sea Hall’s commission would spark an interest in the port not seen since the last influx of Jarls arrived, just a few Seasons prior. The streets would soon see a hustle and bustle that could rival Strivington’s main roads, with salt-flecked sea-goers bumping shoulders with timber-toned builders, and more besides, it would become a time of growth for Jaalstead. One that was sorely needed.
The commission itself would start construction with an efficiency and excitement that would shock even the best of the Valley’s fortress-smiths. This was to be the mark that made Jaalstead, and no expense would be spared by those who had a hand in making it. Everything was to be perfect, and if not perfect then as close to it as could be possible. This was a test of The Valley, a test of what it could create for its people, no matter whether they be High or Low, Inheritor or Carver. This was something great, for it gave meaning to the town named for a dead hero.
From the temporary wooden piers to the beginnings of the simply massive supporting pillars, the scale of the construction would become massive. The pillars themselves, designed to stand a height exceeding sixty meters above the water-line, would take months alone with their dedicated workers. Made of the best timber found in The Bailite Woods, stacked atop each other and reinforced with Thunder Oak where the most stress was expected, the foundations would become a task all their own. To work on them was to be a part of what would hold this great Hall above everything, and to ensure it would stay standing long after its makers were dead would be to embody The Valley truly.
To have your name inscribed upon them was to be even greater an honour. The first of such an honour, as per the request of Senator Ranhilde herself, were to be left for heroic groups. At least one group to a pillar, becoming just as foundational to the people carving them as the wood itself would be foundational to The Hall. To earn the honour of having your name inscribed next to heroes of The Valley, forever holding up a grand structure that would outlast even your children’s children; that was something to fight and earn with everything in your heart.
Those first inscribed would be as follows, as provided to craftsfolk by Senator Ranhilde;
- The Scaled
- The Ga Toni’s
- The Vipers
- The Mudlarks
- The Gilded Stag
- The Iron Wolves
- House Vespera
- The Crow Doktors
It would be many months before The Sea Hall was truly complete, ready to embrace its first vessel and crown its first Grand Jarl, but the excitement it brings to all would be like a balm to a wounded soul. Despite any difference, despite any conflict, the people of The Valley could point to Jaalstead and say that there would be created something worthy of the blood spilled to survive to this point.
Game Information
The Sea Hall begins construction in Jaalstead, breathing life into the small settlement and growing it near instantaneously. It would be another Season before it sees itself built, but in the meantime it becomes a grand honour to be involved in its crafting. All parts of The Sea Hall, from its conception to the felling of timber for its immense form, would embody everything that The Iron Valley had stood for.
This embodiment would manifest manifold when Senator Ranhilde declares that there shall be names carved into The Sea Hall, upon the point where it most fits. This would, suitably, become the massive wooden pillars that would one day become the foundation for The Hall. To have your name, or the name of your people or Borough, inscribed upon these pillars would become an honour worthy of earning, though the method of earning it would not yet become clear.
The honour has not gone unnoticed by the people of Jaalstead who have sent off parcels of goods to each of the listed groups as a form of thanks. Representatives of the listed groups should expect to receive a supply of resources and well-wishes from the people of Jaalstead at the Summit.