the Uprising of the Wolf

sorry for the style break but my current art style compfort zone makes me tired~~~
FINALLY GETTING MY STORYLINE ROLLING. AHH.

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Outskirts of Yngvarsted, around fifty miles north Arryn Hall,

Despite the cold rain that was pouring down relentlessly the entire morning a cloaked figure made its way over the wet rocks of the mountain. With rushed steps the man wrapped in wet wool walked up to his destination, two brothers who worked the field drenched in water with no shelter from the weather as well. The messanger came to a halt in front of them, "You're Arveds Boys?“ He blandly adressed the two men. „Oy, who's askin?'“, “Your uncle is asking for you, hurry." One of the workers turned his redhead towards the interruption of his work. "Now? You gotta be fooling me" He rammed his tool into the mud with a look of annoyance on his face. "Now" the peasant in his coat snarked. "He's not gonna let us have fun in the mud eh?" The older brother mocked, clapping the shoulder of the messanger while walking past, who clearly only had his duty in mind rather than humor.

Flemming and Bryn walked up the mountain slope leading to the open plateau on which you could overlook the north valley, a common spot for their village to gather and discuss important matters. Both of them were equally confused why their uncle summoned them up there, in the addition of it being a rather not so cozy rainy morning. So they made their displeased moods audible when they layed eyes upon the cloaked man standing on the edge and gazing over to the coast in the distance, his steed standing calmly besides him. „What is all that fuss about Yngvarson? You got yer'own personal worm now?“ The redhead made his way towards his relative, the older one following him silently.

„Jarl Yngvar“, the man said in a calm tone missing any emotion.

„What?“ Flemming getting confused.

„It's Jarl Yngvar now.“ The redhead pulled his eyebrows up in confusion, stumpling over his own words trying to respond to the nonesense his uncle just told him. Yngvarson continued. „The council of the stronghold met here yesterday under my guidance, and I only want to trust these words to my brothers sons.“ With revealing that little information to lift their confusion the blond man turned around and lowered his wet cape, revealing a bronce crown on his head. „Uncle wait- wh- wait what--?“, Flemming rumbled while Bryn stepped forward and pushed his young brother behind him, being the voice of reason. „The council announced you Jarl? That's --“, missing the right words he lowered himself to kneel in front of his now royal family member, not minding the mud beneath his feet, his brother following him shortly after. Yngvarson stepped forward and grabbed Bryns shoulders in a greeting manner. „That's a honor uncle, truly“. Yngvarsons lips caught a faint smile, „No, get up nephew, I don't want to see you two kneeling for me. „I needed to see you two, and only you two, because what I will need you to do for me will be of great importance for the future of our people.“ Bryns and Flemmings confusion started to settle itself, and Bryn continued to ask. „How come the Council announced you Jarl? They didn't call for a jarl in decades, we chose not to, right?“
„Cause they didn't“.
„Wait, what?“ Bryns features twisted again.

„The Council did not announce a Jarl, I announced a war, and you two will stand beside me“. Yngvarsons words were cold, and it made Bryns face drop. All three men were silent. „I declared a rebellion against the council and the leadership of the Ironhill for freedom and the well-being of this stronghold--“, „NO! Yngvarson!" Flemming roared while stepping up face to face with him. „Are you mad?!“, he continued, but Yngvarson continued,„The council is weak! All of them dogs, silently obeying this foreign aristocratic potlicker! The strings of this stronghold are teared apart and I will be the one to step in and save what little we had“ Agression creeped into Yngvarsons character and it was like both brothers suddenly faced a stranger. “This is madness!“ Flemming grabbed the collar of his uncles cloak in fear, disbelieve and anger. „I will free us Flemming, you and all the people of the Ironhill, and you will support me.“ Flemming snarled at him, „You have lost your mind uncle, I never had any plans to stay in this shithole, and now I won't have to any longer.“ His tone getting cold as well. „You will abandon me then.“ a threat boiling in Yngvarsons words, „Chasing after your little fairytale“. He hit a sore spot, leaving Flemming to let go of the cloak with one last forceful sway. „Vanaheim exists, and wolfs will fall.“, „Brother,“ Bryn stepped in to calm his brother who clearly understood the meaning of what he just refered to. But Flemming stomped away in rage, leaving Bryn to coldly face Yngvarson alone, „What do you want me to do?“
A furrow smirk formed on Yngvarsons face.

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Yngvar Yngvarson, Flemming and Bryn Arved reside with me,
featuring 20135 Valdero
art by valachhim 2017
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