>>5937501>>5937506The Gohren are strange - always foreign to their lords, so small and with so little pride to dignify their little lives. It was a point of pride to your father that he did not admit the less-men into his hall except to bear tribute, and that he had never spoken a word to them with his own mouth.
You took a much more active interest in your subjects, ignoring the distaste of your peers. The little black-headed people might be weak, small and servile, but they make their lives all the same. They rear sheep and goats in the hills, dwell in squat, defensible houses of wood and earth, weave clothes, catch fish - eke out their lives by what industry they have.
Most important of all, when properly tended they are deathly loyal to their ancestral lords. You remember a set of village boys beating the tar out of a wandering huntsman for daring to spit while within your sight, beaming with pride as you nodded down at them. You spent many days in the company of the Gohren - you would wander the villages and settle their disputes even as a boy, and it taught you much of the practicalities of daily life - as well as how to earn loyalty and keep it.
In time you met with their wise-folk, those of them who hold their own land, keep their own servants - like dress-up lords. You grew to understand them - how to trade favours for their support and aid, how to direct them such that they bring in proper tribute rather than merely what scraps they can get away with.
You, unlike your kin, ruled your future subjects directly. You lead parties of young Gohren out to dispatch brigands and wolves. As a youth of only fourteen summers you commanded the village lads and put a khuan, a wandering man of royal blood, to flight as he tried to steal your drunken father's sheep. They cheered for you - their prince, their lord at arms, and you revelled in command.
In other lands the Gohren are impetuous - they demand to sit with their lords, turn their kings into mere mercenaries, dress their wives in your heirlooms bought for a week's bread and beer. In Brenmawr, though, your subjects are loyal - you speak unto them the law and the land, and they keep the faith, even if your high-blooded cousins sneer at you in their childish ignorance behind your back for keeping their company.
>You are a skilled steward, law-speaker and commander of the lesser men, though those of lordly blood disdain your talents.Cont.
