Lynette lines her brow with furrowed furor
Winter is hard and furious cold.
Circling Her court, men’s tongues wag and benight
For Ragnarr’s royal plight;
Snow-sounded silences from Kiev
No word from Christoph
Naught but uncertainty
Naught but royal worry
Ragnarr gnashes white-burning teeth
He seeks for clear guides and finding none
He wishes for nothing more but to assuage His royal ire.
Lynette sees blood coming and seeks to stem the tide
Lest good men fall for naught, for no reason but
Idleness of the season.
She casts her judgement for good solution.
She knows that hearts run hot when bored
And She fears for drawn sword.
No weapon has She but Queenly word.
So she shall deploy it with wisdom and
Send discreet word southward
To Adelheit’s ear, to trusted counselors near.
Blood comes, says Lynette, unless we act.
Or else useless battle shall be begat.
None shall gain from it, and foolish men will not be swayed
Unless you and I can weave back that which is frayed
Let us join hands and keep apart the war bands.
-Iskender Bey Al-Istanbuli