<span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="color: #008000">King Ramsey Cailot</span> / <span style="color: #008080">Rudiach Ivontoch</span> / <span style="color: #00BF80">Sheriff Roscoe of Glennvale</span></span></span></span><br/><br/>The little Hamlet of Glennval was like any other small farming community: quaint, rustic, modest and everyone knew each other and most of all they’re among the most loyal to their king and to their homeland.<br/><br/>“Good mornin’, your grace.” A burly man accosted Ramsey and his retinue. “Good morning, indeed Sheriff Roscoe.” The King dismounted to shake the Sheriff’s hand for he wasn’t fond of people bowing to him, he preferred a different formality altogether. Rudiach and the hooded figure followed along on foot leaving the bannermen to stand guard outside the town center.<br/><br/>“We have been worried about the growing tensions between Mekova and Linloch and I had to personally dig into my own coffer to train additional watchmen at the border.” Roscoe spoke over a cup of tea and fresh baked biscuits. “We’ve been apprised of the situation at the border, Sheriff. I’ve doubled the patrols to the northern border last week.” Rudiach assured him. “Perhaps the Sheriff would like to be reimbursed? Why didn’t you send for funds from the master of coin?” Ramsey’s tone hid a hint of agitation at the thought the master of coin was pulling the purse strings too tight.<br/><br/>Roscoe’s mouth moved as to say something but was having difficulties finding the words because he knew he was tempting the King’s worst temperaments. “We do not want to burden Alderion’s reserves. We are an agrarian Kingdom, your grace. We don’t exactly have lucrative markets like the rest.” His words were like nails on a chalk board to Ramsey at the thought his only inheritance and his true home was nothing more than a poor farming country. Alderion was much more and he was going to prove it.<br/><br/>“You’ll be surprised at the revenue we get annually from trading with our…”brethren” to the north and west.” Ramsey scoffed at the idea of Trystan and Alexander was anymore brotherly than a petty thief or highway man that hang on the city gallows. “The trade partners we have across the sea have been generous with their deals. I assure you, Sheriff. Alderion’s expenses should be the least of your problems.”<br/><br/>A hooded ranger in forest garb approached Rudiach to give him a rolled up parchment and exited as soon as he entered. The ranger master unfurled the parchment and tried to read it then sighed. He muttered something about getting old and retrieved a pair of spectacles from his pouch to read the writing. After a moment he cleared his throat, knowing everyone was waiting for him to say something. “What is it?” Roscoe spoke up. “I have a contact in the north and they spotted Termagant flying about in Mekova.” Rudiach replied and crumpled up the parchment. “We may have a dragon problem if Alexander has a tantrum.” He said.<br/><br/>“She always had a soft spot for the little bastard.” Ramsey bit into a biscuit bitterly. "What else?"<br/><br/>"Large armament shipments and large training camps have reported which leads to one conclusion. Invasion."