The Winter kingdom

Version 2.0

Connell slithered through the Tower King's lands, slipping from village to village, whispering with those who felt most suffered under the Tower King's reign. His voice was smooth and silky, and where there was resentment, he stoked it into defiance. He had a way of speaking that made men forget their doubts, forget the risks. To those who had lost crops to bandits or seen their homes burned by raiders, Connell promised justice. To those who had been abandoned by the Tower King's soldiers, he spoke of vengeance.

In the darkest corners of inns and taverns, men gathered to hear Connell's words. He wove stories of the Tower King's neglect, of how the North deserved better leadership and stronger protection. He didn't need to speak long to convince them. Connell knew exactly which wounds to press on, and soon, villages that had once quietly accepted their fate now buzzed with talk of revolt.

Connell was a master at riling people up, his presence alone seemed to stir discontent. He spoke of unity, of rising to take back what had been stolen from them, of casting off the weak rulers who had failed to protect their people. As he moved from village to village, his following grew. The Tower King's loyalists began to take notice. They saw the fires of resistance being lit, but it was too late. Connell's influence had spread too quickly.

After weeks many weeks of Connell's ambitions, he made his move. He had gathered enough men, enough fury, to strike at one of the Tower King's strongholds a growing village along one of the trade roads. If Connell could take it, the rebellion would gain the strength and confidence to truly begin. He rallied his forces, promising that this would be the first step in toppling the Tower King's rule, the spark that would ignite the fire of revolution across the North.

But Connell had misjudged just how much attention he had drawn. The Tower King, though weakened, was not blind to the threat, and more importantly, neither was the Locke King. Despite years of animosity and old grudges, both kings saw the danger Connell posed. A rebellion in one kingdom could easily spread to the next, and Connell's growing influence threatened the fragile place the Kings had. It was especially stocked when even the Slate King told them the information that he had gathered on the man.

As Connell's men prepared to march on the village, they found themselves intercepted. The armies of the Tower and Locke Kings stood before them. The two banners were fly side by side as Connell rolled his jaw as his men, began to whisper among each other, wearily bounced on their feet.

But Connell believed in his cause, his close comrades trusted him and looked to him to lead this battle. He rallied the men, the man who had caused all their problems stood before them, their chance for vengeance and a better life stood before them, they merely had to take it for themselves.

The clash came at dawn, as Connell marched his rambunctious men toward the King's armies, matching him in equal steps. Opposed him, armoured men stretched across the fields in tight formations, shields raised and swords gleaming in the early light.

Connell's forces did not falter at the sight of such overwhelming opposition, their trust in Connell keeping them forward. The battle began with the blare of battle crises that shook the air beneath the armies. Connell's men charged, bashing into the disciplined shield walls of the Tower and Locke Kings' men. The clash of bronze rang as two sides collided. As the battle dragged on Connell's men started to break through, the rebels fought with hope-filled fury soaked in desperation. But the kings' armies were larger, better trained, and far better equipped. Slowly, inexorably, they began to push Connell's forces back.

In the beginning, Connell fought in the thick of it but during the fighting was injured, a sword had cut deep into his body, and so was dragged from the battlefield to the far back lines before the men could see their leader in such a state. Instead, he now had to watch his men be cut down. Nearing the tipping point of battle the Tower King's men swept in from the flanks, driving deep into the rebel forces, trying to cut them off from any chance of retreat. The Locke King's infantry then pressed forward relentlessly, smashing through what remained of Connell's resistance. Everywhere Connell looked, his rebellion was crumbling. Many of his comrades and leaders who had stood beside him, were surrounded, trapped, and one by one, captured or slain. He could only watch as he was carried away by the last of comrades and men who stayed with him.

The field was strewn with the dead and dying, the proud banners of rebellion were trampled in the blood-soaked mud. As the thick air of battle began to clear, the Tower and Locke Kings gathered the surviving leaders of the rebellion, trying to find Connell. Each one was dragged before the kings, their faces pale, as the Kings tortured any information they could get from them. But Connell was nowhere to be found. His name was cursed by the kings, and even by those rebels who had fought and died for his cause. Yet no matter how hard they searched the forests and hills, he was gone, slipping away into the vastness of the North like a ghost.

For those left behind, there was no trial. The sentence had already been decided. They were declared traitors to the crown, and one by one, they were executed at the edge of the battlefield. Their heads were mounted on spikes outside the village and left for all to see.

With the witness taken care of, every word or mention of Connell was snuffed out, quietly and behind closed doors, the kings made sure that all talk or ideas of Connell and even the battle was never mentioned again. They could not risk more uprisings during these times.

Still, people speculated about Connell. Some said he had fled beyond the Wall, others believed he had vanished into the deep woods, hiding among the ancient groves. But no one truly knew. Even the kings' men who had tracked him all this time could not find him and so all the Kings swept the entire thing under the rug and left to clean up their lands. People quickly forgot about Connell and his failings of a rise in power.