Scribbles:Parable of the Baroness

The Parable of the Baroness of the Emerald Reign

The Emerald Reign covered the land like the drizzle of a gray day. The clouds were dark, as always, and the days were cold, as always. But hearths were warm and local trods were shielded both from cold winds and cold hearts. Thus was the legacy of the Baroness.

But it was not always thus. She who would become the Baroness, a noble sidhe of house unknown, found a city of flotsam fates and driftwood dreams. The dreams of the elements themselves washed this way and that, roared in storm and blew away just as quickly. The spirits of the dead raged silently behind their hidden walls. Thunderbirds hatched and roared into the sky, leaving destruction in their wake. Faceless terrors stalked through alley and wharf.

She beheld the sound and the fury, and she wept. She cried out to the winds, but they did not listen. She commanded the creatures in the sky to yield, but they paid no heed. She stamped on the graves of the fallen to force them to turn, but they cared not for the wrath of one of the quick.

She fell to her knees in the mud, exhausted and defeated, and she knew she was bereft. In desperation, she drew up the mud around her and formed it into a mound. And on the mound she drew a face, so that she would not be alone. And she cried to it, 'The world here eats itself, and soon there will be nothing left. Why will no one listen to me?'

And the mound said to her 'Though you are of noble blood, you do not rule here. The dreams are not your subjects. The wind and storm and waters do not bend knee to you. If you wish to command them, you must prove right of sovereignty.'

But she was not a warrior. She had no army. She said to her friend 'I cannot conquer the horrors in the streets. I cannot force the wind and the storm and the waters to submit.'

And the mound replied, 'I am but a mound of wet earth, but I do know that a sovereign does not rule alone. The crown is only as strong as the swords and hammers that are sworn to it.'

She smiled and said, 'You are wise, my muddy friend. You speak with the heart of a troll.' And with deft hands, she shaped the mound into a troll warrior. 'My hands are the hands of a sculptor,' she said. 'My gift is to give form where none was before. I shall carve and cast this place into a court of glory and renown, and my chisels shall be oath and fealty.' And her friend, now a troll, fell to one knee and swore his loyalty to her and her cause.

And thus was her path cut through the wilderness. She treated with the elements, and they joined her court. She spoke to the faceless horrors, and carved them faces in exchange for their hearts. The savage beasts, the thunderbirds, manticores, and the leviathans - those she won with perseverance and respect, until they too chose to bow before her.

With the land tamed, the kith came and found its undisputed liege, the Baroness, welcoming them to her realm. And in turn, they each bent their knee and swore loyalty to her and her crest upon which were etched the words "Fortitudo gladiis malleisque iuratis", which means 'Strength from sworn swords and hammers'.