The Kingdom of Toparia
Founded Year 847
Ruler: King Halidor the Butcher (U+1) (U to 8)
b.1062 d.1133. r.1085-1133
m.1083 to Queen Raghnall (b.1067 d.1116)
Chapter I: A Marriage of Shadows
On a balmy summer night in 1083, the kingdom of Toparia bore witness to the union of two powerful dynasties. In the cavernous stone halls of the royal palace, the dashing young King Halidor claimed Princess Raghnall's hand before the eyes of the entire court. Their wedding feast stretched long into the night, filled with raucous laughter, flowing mead, and tempted looks between the newly betrothed.
As the festivities finally died down in the early hours before dawn, Halidor swept his new queen into the royal bedchamber. There, in the soft glow of flickering candles, Raghnall's beauty stirred him. As Halidor drew close, she placed one delicate finger to his lips and whispered, "I can help you become the most feared ruler this kingdom has ever seen."
Her voice was sweet poison, stoking the young king's ambition and vanity. She spoke of enemies lurking in every shadow, plotting to end his reign before it truly began. Paranoia took root as Halidor hung on her every honeyed word.
In the months that followed, the royal court was transformed. Nobles once in favor found themselves abruptly exiled or executed on fabricated charges of treason. Raghnall orchestrated the downfall of any she perceived as threats, adept at spinning deception and manipulating her besotted husband. None escaped the accusations of the venomous queen if they dared cross her.
Outside the palace walls, the kingdom drank deeply of fear. The common folk learned to mind their words, not wishing to draw the wrathful eye of the Crown. Tales spread from village to village of sudden disappearances and suspected dissenters facing gruesome punishment on the queen's command.
While the people cowered and praised their king's iron will, no songs were sung honoring the shadowy queen. But Raghnall's sly influence continued to corrupt the land, as Halidor descended further into cruelty and suspicion.
Chapter II: Stormclouds Gather
The kingdom was ill-prepared when the first bandit raiders stormed out of the highland passes. Emboldened by years of weak rule under Halidor's father, they descended on the outlying villages to loot granaries and torch croplands. Merchant caravans found themselves beset upon the roads, their goods stolen and wagons burned, cutting off vital trade lines.
As famine took root across the land, King Halidor summoned his privy council, desperate to staunch the bleeding wound in his kingdom.
"We must link all the major cities so trade can flow," the king declared. "Bandits stick to the rural routes. Fund a merchant guild to run caravans between cities - we will fill their wagons with gold to replace any lost goods. Build new roads where needed so they can move safely."
The council blanched, protesting the ruinous expense of such an undertaking. But Halidor would hear no rebuttals. If the kingdom was to survive, drastic steps were needed.
Work crews fanned out across the land breaking ground on new roads as Halidor emptied the royal treasury funding merchant convoys. Trade blossomed between cities, enriching the powerful guilds that oversaw the operations.
Sensing opportunity, Queen Raghnall encouraged King Halidor to invest directly in this increasingly lucrative trade. Soon the royal coffers were bursting with newfound wealth. The king and queen held lavish feasts with exotic delicacies as the common people starved outside the palace walls.
Resentment grew across the land as the royals carried on blithely, unaware of the suffering below. When mass riots erupted in the capital, Halidor responded with characteristic force, dispatching troops to put down the dissent with ruthless efficiency.
While trade was restored, the brief hope the people felt turned once more to bitterness and rage. The bandits may have been driven back, but the king's merciless response heralded darker times ahead. Trouble was stirring again in Toparia.
Chapter III: A Kingdom of Fear
The royal privy council stood in stunned silence as King Halidor concluded his tirade. Face mottled in anger, he slammed a fist onto the oak table before him, making the goblets jump.
"These whispers of rebellion must be stamped out! I will not have my rule threatened from within!" Spittle flew from his lips. The privy councilors shuffled back unconsciously, exchanging uneasy looks between them.
As the last echoes of the king's shout faded, Queen Raghnall glided forward from a shadowy alcove, a grim smile slashing across her face. She placed a steadying hand upon her husband's shoulder.
"You are right, my love. To save your kingdom, you must do what all monarchs before you were too weak-willed to do." Her words dripped like honey in his ear. "Make examples the people shall never forget. Show them what happens to those foolish enough to try and undermine their king."
That night the crackle of burning torches and tramp of steel-shod boots rang through villages across the land. Screams and cries echoed as people were ripped violently from their beds by royal guards. Some faced the headman's axe before dawn. Others disappeared into lightless cells beneath the palace, their fates unseen.
In time, an uneasy silence settled on the kingdom. Eyes to the ground and mouths shut tight, the people simmered with bitterness and barely contained rage. None dared speak above a whisper now.
Watching from her tower window, Queen Raghnall smiled as common folk and nobles alike scurried like rats, their fear of her husband complete. But even she in her arrogance did not see the true cost of such wanton cruelty - the flames licking at the frayed edges of Halidor's realm, ready to ignite.
The fires, once lit, would consume everything.
Chapter IV: The King's Last Hunt
The elderly King Halidor rode out into the muted grey light of dawn, accompanied only by his most skilled trackers and loyal retainers. The weight of the crown pressed heavily, haunting his steps despite trying to lose himself in the thrill of the chase within the sanctuary of the king's forest.
All morning the royal hunting party worked their way into the shadowy heart of the woods, hoping to rouse a stag worthy of their monarch's attention. At last they came upon fresh hoof prints and managed to startle a trophy into the open.
Halidor spurred his stallion on without hesitation, relishing the sudden pulse of excitement. His aging body protested painfully as his mount strained to close the distance with the fleeing stag. Halidor’s reactions had slowed over the endless years on the throne but his determination remained unrelenting as ever.
Suddenly disaster struck. Halidor’s stallion failed to clear a fallen tree obscured by the undergrowth, hooves scrabbling in the leaf litter. The aging monarch could only watch helplessly as horse and rider went down in a flurry of thrashing limbs and snapping branches.
The king’s pained gasps cut through the stillness of the surrounding woodlands. His retainers dismounted hurriedly and rushed to disentangle their stricken monarch. Horror dawned on their faces as they took in Halidor’s pallor and the dark blood trickling steadily from one corner of his mouth.
With as much care as possible they lifted their frail king, hoping to carry him back swiftly enough to allow the court physicians to work their miracles once more. Though the loyal men strained every sinew, by the time the castle gates clattered open before them, Halidor had breathed his last. His reign of terror over at long last.
Chapter V: The Fragile Dynasty
Princess Lila was the sole ray of light in the increasingly ominous royal court of King Halidor. From a young age, she glided through the palace halls bestowing kindness and warmth to all she encountered, whether nobles or servants. Her sweet smile held a power to lift the spirits of even the most downtrodden.
Many remarked on Lila’s resemblance to Queen Raghnall in her youth - the same flowing red hair and piercing green eyes that once enchanted the king. But where Raghnall possessed a core of iron cruelty, Lila brimmed with empathy and compassion. In her the people saw hope for the future.
Sadly, that hope was dashed when the frail princess passed at only 37 years of age, yet another victim of the bloody flux outbreak that swept the capital. Two young sons and her elder brother Crown Prince Olaf remained of her lineage.
Olaf cut a different figure from his beloved sister. Tall and dashing, he was notorious for extravagant debauchery and outrageous behavior, the constant scorn of the court gossips. Behind the hedonism, Olaf’s cunning political instinct matched his late mother’s.
Now the fate of Halidor’s embattled kingdom rested in Olaf’s hands. For years he had bristled under his father’s long shadow, the role of prince chafing. With the old king finally in his grave, Olaf’s moment had at last arrived. In him lay the last chance for the kingdom’s redemption - or final ruin.
Offspring
Princess Lila b.1086 d.1123
Heir Prince Olaf b.1087 - All Hail King Olaf II (U=8, D=1, W=4) Fall
