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Nanter 1082VP.

The cold winds of winter assaulted the city of Nanter with out mercy. People, heavily clothed, went about their business with surly faces. The worst winter in fifty years, they said. And in truth they were not wrong. Savage storms lashed the seas closing the sea routes to all, but the most daring of captains. Further inland heavy snows fell making travel dangerous and in some areas impossible. In the more remote parts of the land people began to freeze and starve until death took them. It was proof to those who contemplated it that nature when it wanted was the most destructive force known to man.

"I build roads and schools. Hospitals for my people and yet one ferocious winter like this and it is not enough," Ranald said to Rolf who was seated close to a roaring fire cradling a goblet of mulled wine in his hands.
Rolf was frozen to the bone and felt that he would never get heat back into his blood again. He had ridden hard from his lands in Sharl to bring Ranald the news he had received from Kalnordia. What he had seen on the journey had chilled him as much as the freezing temperatures. Villages were devoid of life, the inhabitants either dead in their homes or fled to the illusionary safety of the cities. In his lifetime he had never witnessed anything like it. Even the occasional outbreaks of plague had ceased to be a problem due to Ranald's public health works.

Ranald sighed and looked at Rolf with concern. The son of his aunt, Rolf was one of Ranald's loyalist and most able lords.
"I have had your apartments prepared and they will be well heated when you retire, but before you do that you must tell me once again the news you have had from the north," Ranald said.
Rolf took a long draught from his goblet appreciating the quality of the wine. The King of himself did not like wine, but that did not mean that he stinted on the quality of his cellar.
"A merchant came to my hall begging an audience with me. Since I knew the man of old, a southerner by the name of Loyola, I granted the request. He was in a terrible condition all frostbitten with his clothes in rags. He said that he had traveled from Kalnordia braving the winter storms to escape the madness of Helgi's rule," Rolf paused to take a sip from his goblet.
Ranald stared at him intently.
"This Loyola is he trustworthy?" Ranald asked.
"As much as any other merchant. But he has built a reputation as an honest broker over the years so I have no reason to doubt

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