Vilby, Tingsted
The Vilby District of Tingsted was a bit more rough than the old homes featured in books and the thoughts of many. Far away from the palace and even further away from the wealthy district of Bisbakken, the little tavern was beginning to fill with workers on their way home who were stopping for a quick schnapps or lager. Hans Plessen ducked his head as he approached the tavern. He raised his head briefly, noting that the tavern did not even have a name. Dressed in a fine gray suit, Plessen certainly stood out. Most of the men were dirty in their work attire or the lowest functionaries wore ratty suits. Scanning the room, Plessen noted that indeed several eyes had turned to examine him before returning to their drinks and conversation. The smell for Plessen would be intolerable if not for the copious amount of pipe smoke. The smell of sweat and what he assumed was piss caught in his nostrils, barely perceptible through the sweet tobacco scent. He fixed his eyes on a booth near the back and slowly made his way. Ludvig and Hector were already seating, lager beers sitting on the table. As he sat, Hector quietly pushed a beer across the table and met Plessen's eyes. "Were you followed?" he asked, coldly. Plessen shook his head. Ludvig interjected. "A fucking Rigsdahler. For 3 beers. That scum barkeep knows we have money" he said, shrugging. Plessen sat back and grinned. Of course they were standing out. He was against meeting here from the start. "Last month I mentioned reorganizing the nobles to take action" he began. Hector nodded. "You said you have an idea. Let us here it" said Ludvig. Plessen carefully examined the two young men. Nobles like himself, neither was above the age of 35.
"King Erik's days are ending. My sources in the palace have confirmed he has left to one of the Royal Estates" said Plessen quietly. Ludvig and Hector looked at each other briefly as if to communicate mutual interest in the news. Plessen took a deep breath and looked down to collect his thoughts. He eyed the sawdust covered floor passively, his brow furling. "There are many nobles already behind what I propose. The nobility of Dyfolt and even the Lahti nobles are behind what I will tell you. The fact is that you two are the biggest landowners in Bollend. Without you, I cannot convince the Sunnlend nobles to join our cause" Plessen said, sipping his beer. "Our ancestors going back to the great warrior-trader Jutes built this Kingdom with their blood, sweat, and tears. We are being robbed. The legacy of our households is being robbed. The King has gone too far and that Statsgilde is nothing but a blood-sucking tax machine built to allow those social anarchists to walk in and take Jutegn" Plessen said, stabbing his finger into the table. Ludvig took a long swig of beer before turning more to directly address Plessen. "Blood sucking is right. Our rights are stripped. I cannot even afford to tax my tenants what I should be to cover the tax increase. We had to sell the hunting lodge!" Ludvig said, his voice full of indignation. "I was to buy one of those new automobiles this year. Now, it will be next year or the year after. All of my family's work is being pulled down by that senile fool" he said, his voice growing louder.
Plessen held up his hand. "Not so loud my dear friend, these places have eyes and ears. Even in Vilby. If you want to restore our God given rights, meet me here in one weeks time" he began, pausing to gulp at the beer. "If not, your gentlemanly discretion is most appreciated" said Plessen. Abruptly, he stood and gave a curt bow of his head before turning and walking out the door. Ludvig and Hector looked at each other and shrugged. Change was coming.
The Vilby District of Tingsted was a bit more rough than the old homes featured in books and the thoughts of many. Far away from the palace and even further away from the wealthy district of Bisbakken, the little tavern was beginning to fill with workers on their way home who were stopping for a quick schnapps or lager. Hans Plessen ducked his head as he approached the tavern. He raised his head briefly, noting that the tavern did not even have a name. Dressed in a fine gray suit, Plessen certainly stood out. Most of the men were dirty in their work attire or the lowest functionaries wore ratty suits. Scanning the room, Plessen noted that indeed several eyes had turned to examine him before returning to their drinks and conversation. The smell for Plessen would be intolerable if not for the copious amount of pipe smoke. The smell of sweat and what he assumed was piss caught in his nostrils, barely perceptible through the sweet tobacco scent. He fixed his eyes on a booth near the back and slowly made his way. Ludvig and Hector were already seating, lager beers sitting on the table. As he sat, Hector quietly pushed a beer across the table and met Plessen's eyes. "Were you followed?" he asked, coldly. Plessen shook his head. Ludvig interjected. "A fucking Rigsdahler. For 3 beers. That scum barkeep knows we have money" he said, shrugging. Plessen sat back and grinned. Of course they were standing out. He was against meeting here from the start. "Last month I mentioned reorganizing the nobles to take action" he began. Hector nodded. "You said you have an idea. Let us here it" said Ludvig. Plessen carefully examined the two young men. Nobles like himself, neither was above the age of 35.
"King Erik's days are ending. My sources in the palace have confirmed he has left to one of the Royal Estates" said Plessen quietly. Ludvig and Hector looked at each other briefly as if to communicate mutual interest in the news. Plessen took a deep breath and looked down to collect his thoughts. He eyed the sawdust covered floor passively, his brow furling. "There are many nobles already behind what I propose. The nobility of Dyfolt and even the Lahti nobles are behind what I will tell you. The fact is that you two are the biggest landowners in Bollend. Without you, I cannot convince the Sunnlend nobles to join our cause" Plessen said, sipping his beer. "Our ancestors going back to the great warrior-trader Jutes built this Kingdom with their blood, sweat, and tears. We are being robbed. The legacy of our households is being robbed. The King has gone too far and that Statsgilde is nothing but a blood-sucking tax machine built to allow those social anarchists to walk in and take Jutegn" Plessen said, stabbing his finger into the table. Ludvig took a long swig of beer before turning more to directly address Plessen. "Blood sucking is right. Our rights are stripped. I cannot even afford to tax my tenants what I should be to cover the tax increase. We had to sell the hunting lodge!" Ludvig said, his voice full of indignation. "I was to buy one of those new automobiles this year. Now, it will be next year or the year after. All of my family's work is being pulled down by that senile fool" he said, his voice growing louder.
Plessen held up his hand. "Not so loud my dear friend, these places have eyes and ears. Even in Vilby. If you want to restore our God given rights, meet me here in one weeks time" he began, pausing to gulp at the beer. "If not, your gentlemanly discretion is most appreciated" said Plessen. Abruptly, he stood and gave a curt bow of his head before turning and walking out the door. Ludvig and Hector looked at each other and shrugged. Change was coming.