The land was in turmoil, brother slaying brother. Bitter tribal rivalries burned their way across the face of Brithwyr, borne in dark times before both recorded history and recollection. Crops were torched, livestock slain and taken. Children cut down in the streets, woman the victims of humanity's depravity. One by one, the lights were going out, the spark of life was fading across the landscape as war, famine, and disease extinguished the candles of the soul. Where a multitude used to live, scattered villages railed against the night and each other, becoming fewer and fewer with the passing of every harsh year. Kindness was a commodity not in stock and wisdom and departed on the wings of hope, long since flown from Brithwyr. Village warlords oppressed their people and turned them against their neighbors, countless died in the blood-filled streets and across the graveyard landscape between settlements.
No more.
No more proclaimed Willem Arkland as he surveyed the devastation from his home from the village of which he was the chief. His eyes welled with tears and sadness plagued his heart as he saw the evils done to man by man; as he saw the despair that had proclaimed itself the lord of the land in absence of hope. Charismatic as no one was, Willem Arkland's spirit breathed renewed life into those of his people and they tilled the fields with enlivened vigor.
Putting aside instant gratification and forgoing many luxuries, Willem Arkland trained with his men, they became strong and disciplined. They sought physical perfection as well as wisdom, the necessary combination. They ignored the desires of the mind and lusts of the flesh, training themselves in body as well as spirit. In the passing of one season, Willem Arkland had raised his village from despair into a center of prosperity, a beacon of light in the dying dusk. His farmers were the best, those that tended the animals were intuitive and wise with their herds. Sons and daughters respected their parents, families were at peace. Willem Arkland sat back and surveyed his village and saw that it was good.
Brithwyr was a land decadent and in the throes of carnal debasement. The bloodshed never ceased, raiders and slavers did business with a village one day only to turn around and burn it to the ground the next. Envy boiled deep in the hearts of all as they saw the Arkland's village to the southeast. They grumbled in their hearts and cursed themselves and cursed their neighbors because they themselves did not have the same blessings. The roads became even more dangerous and greedy hearts burned against the village.
No more.
No more proclaimed Willem Arkland as he surveyed the despair of Brithwyr from his village of which he was chief. His eyes welled with tears and sadness plagued his heart as he saw the evils done to man by man, as he saw the envy and fear that had proclaimed themselves king and queen in the absence of understanding and hope. His village already built up above the dark sea of poverty and fear that washed all around, Willem Arkland told his people they would unite the land and bring peace and rest to all the villages. His people were devoted, his people believed, his people were alive in their hearts.
From the village in the southeast, Willem Arkland led his disciplined soldiers across the land, sweeping away the corruption and freeing villages one by one, giving them protection, trade, and peace. The peoples of the settlements that came under his control became his citizens with no restrictions, all were protected by his soldiers and given equal access to trade and needed goods. All were fed, all were given medicine, all rejoiced.
Some resisted of course, the villages where anger had rooted itself in too deeply, but Willem Arkland's men were disciplined and faithful, they overcame any obstacle. In less than three seasons, the soldiers of Arkland marked the four corners of Brithwyr. Willem Arkland himself was hailed as the bringer peace and light, a great bird flying across the land. Where this bird landed he brought an end to the pointless fighting and gave the people something to believe in.
He was often referred to as the great 'Brand Vogel', a term of utmost reverence and honor.
Where there was strife, his forces brought tranquility; where there was fear, his scholars brought knowledge. There was little fighting, little bloodshed, most welcomed the arrival of Willem Arkland's forces. His soldiers were kind and gentle, men of peace and understanding; their humility and grace were just as famous as their highly-trained fighting prowess.
Do not be fooled however into the false belief that Willem Arkland was a man of words only without the stomach for the hard toil of uniting a broken and torn land. Evil roots deep in the heart of men, and some sought to pervert his purpose, to turn the people's free hearts against him and his noble goal. They conspired with dark war lords in the still-unclaimed lands of the west to fight back and smash to pieces the vision of a peaceful and united Brithwyr as if it were glass upon the rocks.
To meet this challenge, the great 'Brand Vogel' spoke to his men and told them that a grave days' work was to be done, that they would have to be steadfast against corruption and evil. They would have to forgo words and the hope of peace for a period, as their words and peace were falling on ears turned deaf to them. Willem Arkland's men rallied and railed against those that held out in the shadows and a terrible campaign was waged. Those not fighting were protected and as little damage was done to villages as possible, but Willem Arkland's forces beat against the flimsy shields of the wicked and a bloody season was done, the foes vanquished and Arkland in possession of the land.
Those that surrendered were granted amnesty and helped to recover their lives; many of the vile leaders were jailed so that their poison could not undo the great work being accomplished those days.
Willem Arkland was a wise man. Power corrupts and those that seek it become corrupted equally as well. The peoples proclaimed him a new king, the mighty ruler of the entire land. Knowing that dissent would follow if he refused to lead, Arkland sought to disperse as much power and responsibility under himself. He wanted the people to learn, to rule for themselves and learn how to be a part of a greater community. To that end, he traveled every inch of Brithwyr and appointed regional governors, each responsible for their land and each reporting to him. He selected those of pure hearts, those that were respected by the people. He selected those who could treat the people under them fairly and with kindness and steady leadership. These regional leaders were responsible for the protection of the citizens, the openness of trade, and the welfare of the people in their domains.
The most trusted adviser to the great Willem Arkland was his cousin. Brea Archdeacon, who had also been named the lederan of the region where the Archdeacon clan had led the people in relative peace for as long as anyone could remember. While before the unification, most villages and tribes were in conflict with each other, the village that the Archdeacon clan had founded had done its best to maintain itself as a peaceful zone and was seen as a haven in central Brithwyr for those that could not make the longer journey southeast to Willem Arkland's village. Brea Archdeacon, of the Archdeacon family, had the gift of words which made them wise leaders and valued counselors. The regional lederans wisely led their people with humility and duty. From these regional lederans we have the Noble Houses that exist today to wisely lead and protect the people of Prydain.
"If only that were still true," Gerlander sighed as he closed the history book.
He set the tome down on his nightstand where the candle had almost burned out. Taking up pen once more, he swung it on its small metal arm that was attached to the top of the desk and set it back on the paper he had been writing before he had needed to take a break and started re-reading one of the many books in his room at the Benedikt city estate.
Wiping the sleep from his eyes he set back to the task of finishing his half-written correspondence. He had so much to say and was unsure how much of it he could put to paper. He could not wait for when he could slip away from Avindr with as little fan-fare as possible and join the rest of his family in their country estate far away from the capitol.
"And so father," he took up writing where he had left off, "upon speaking at length with L. D., I believe that if she is right, then this could be the miracle we have been hoping for. I do not doubt that she believes what she has told me, but it is so fantastic that I am hesitant to pin my own hopes on it."
"Regardless, if it is true, then it could turn the tides and could ignite the movement we have been longing to begin. The name alone would do it. I look forward to joining you and mother and sister as soon as all this Landskyp business is concluded. House Cornelius calls for a meeting almost every day now, it's unheard of, just so they can pass more of their own policies and further consolidate power. Many of the Noble Families are either receiving scraps from Cornelius' table, or are afraid to speak out in dissent. If we are to see a change and see Prydain returned to normal, the movement will certainly not originate with strength in the nobility, they are corrupt and cowardly. The people will have to be the force."
"Despite all this, if what D believes is true, we should keep an eye to the north, she has insinuated that something will happen there. We should see if any of our hidden informants know anything. To that point, rumors have been reaching the capitol about events out in the country quite out of the ordinary. I assume you already know about the Lerwick fiasco. House Cornelius is claiming they did not know what was going on there, but those of sound faculty are not quite believing that feeble story."
"More recently, word has come in that House Cornelius has already sent out tax collectors to collect a new national tax they pushed through the Landskyp. The gossip will have you believe that the villages that are refusing are suffering hardships suddenly. No one is saying anything but it sounds as if the situation all over is deteriorating. The most direct word we have is from a trader that some servants overhead in the Market District that a village in the far north refused to pay and then someone tried to burn a little boy alive a few weeks ago. The story goes though that a fearless red-haired girl jumped into the fire and brought him out. It makes me think back to what D told me. Perhaps there is more to this."
"I apologize for the state or manner in which this letter will probably arrive to you, I am going to entrust it to a sewage cleaner who is a friend to our House. The regular messenger channels are all being monitored by House Cornelius I am sure, therefore we must resort to less than normal means to speak as freely as this. I miss you all and hope to be with you soon, love, Gerlander."