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HeyThereLittleBear
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The war between the kingdoms Ikvael and Jilmar was a travesty seven years in the making. All of her girlhood, the world had been at peace until a sparring match between two low-serving knights had brought forth a greater problem of greed, ill tempers, and territory disputes. It had gone on for so long now that those who started it were dead from fighting or succumbed to an injury elsewhere. Those left were men who fought for no reason other than the honor of fighting on the field. The royalty suffered little from these skirmishes along the borders, save for the friction of a lack of goods being exchanged between the kingdoms.
It wasn’t until the winters grew harsh and the summers insufferable that things truly moved from a friction to a hot fire. Ikvael placed upon Jilmar a high tax to exchange goods and the lower-classed tradesmen could no longer afford to take the journey across the turmoil at the border and the tax made it a poor decision to even attempt. Trading came nearly to a halt between the kingdoms and the sudden flow of goods was enough to finally spur the royalty into action.
Without his finer goods from Jilmar, the king of Ikvael had become a spiteful thing. It was being robbed of his luxuries that made him offer a deal after the years of fighting had gone one without him giving a single care. He offered the only thing his kingdom had left that was truly valuable. He offered in exchange for a peace between the borders for his daughter to wed the king’s oldest son, a man nearing his forties and battleworn through his years. It was an amenable enough match, though Catarina was hardly eighteen in her years and had only been flowered for three. She was a girl that was easy on the eyes, with fair skin and hair, her eyes as dark as coals.
Amenable or not, it was an arranged marriage nonetheless. Cat’s reserves about the marriage fell on deaf ears and her father hardly seemed to care either way. He could live a life without his daughter, but he could not live without his Aldmen’s wine or Julien’s Berry Spread. they were delicacies he could only get from Jilmar, and he was eager for the day to see a return in the trading. That, perhaps, was the cause of her ill mood as she was sent across country, her caravan surrounded by soldiers to ensure she was delivered without harm.
For royalty, her arrival at Jilmar was celebrated minorly. The gates opened to permit her caravan, though her soldiers were requested to remain outside its walls. The princess was the only one permitted to enter, though a cart of goods was provided to the men as a sign of good faith and no ill will against her. She was brought safely to her chambers, a room that was lavishly designed for a queen and appropriately locked and secret. There was no introduction or greeting given, no salutations to speak of.
She was dumped, rudely and unceremoniously, upon another kingdom in exchange for wine and berries. Of all the insults her family could have put upon her, this perhaps was the worst. To sit in an unfamiliar room and realize one was worth nothing more than wine and berries. A woman set to be wed should have by all rights been at her happiest moment, but in the moments of quiet she sat on the edge of her bed and wept, not only for her ill future but for her poor treatment by family and her new kingdom, and all the days to come.
It wasn’t until the winters grew harsh and the summers insufferable that things truly moved from a friction to a hot fire. Ikvael placed upon Jilmar a high tax to exchange goods and the lower-classed tradesmen could no longer afford to take the journey across the turmoil at the border and the tax made it a poor decision to even attempt. Trading came nearly to a halt between the kingdoms and the sudden flow of goods was enough to finally spur the royalty into action.
Without his finer goods from Jilmar, the king of Ikvael had become a spiteful thing. It was being robbed of his luxuries that made him offer a deal after the years of fighting had gone one without him giving a single care. He offered the only thing his kingdom had left that was truly valuable. He offered in exchange for a peace between the borders for his daughter to wed the king’s oldest son, a man nearing his forties and battleworn through his years. It was an amenable enough match, though Catarina was hardly eighteen in her years and had only been flowered for three. She was a girl that was easy on the eyes, with fair skin and hair, her eyes as dark as coals.
Amenable or not, it was an arranged marriage nonetheless. Cat’s reserves about the marriage fell on deaf ears and her father hardly seemed to care either way. He could live a life without his daughter, but he could not live without his Aldmen’s wine or Julien’s Berry Spread. they were delicacies he could only get from Jilmar, and he was eager for the day to see a return in the trading. That, perhaps, was the cause of her ill mood as she was sent across country, her caravan surrounded by soldiers to ensure she was delivered without harm.
For royalty, her arrival at Jilmar was celebrated minorly. The gates opened to permit her caravan, though her soldiers were requested to remain outside its walls. The princess was the only one permitted to enter, though a cart of goods was provided to the men as a sign of good faith and no ill will against her. She was brought safely to her chambers, a room that was lavishly designed for a queen and appropriately locked and secret. There was no introduction or greeting given, no salutations to speak of.
She was dumped, rudely and unceremoniously, upon another kingdom in exchange for wine and berries. Of all the insults her family could have put upon her, this perhaps was the worst. To sit in an unfamiliar room and realize one was worth nothing more than wine and berries. A woman set to be wed should have by all rights been at her happiest moment, but in the moments of quiet she sat on the edge of her bed and wept, not only for her ill future but for her poor treatment by family and her new kingdom, and all the days to come.