Roland leaned against one of the pillars in the throne room and watched the court with apparent indifference. He cradled his ax so the etching of the rampant unicorn could be seen on its head. Occasionally his eyes would flick to an area of activity or he would cock his head to the side as if listening to something. He was so obviously out of place, with his leathers and skins, that everyone consciously overlooked him. So, as he pretended to ignore the court but actually noticed everything, the court completely ignored him. Well, almost completely. There was the matter of Sigmund Granuvous.
Master Granuvous, or 'Siggy' as Roland had silently labeled him, was a member of the Jewelers Guild. He had been in conversation with Roland for over an hour. Siggy was trying to convince Roland to allow them, whoever they were, to set up trading with the villages in Evermoor for their silver. Evidently, it had become known the Roland was master there. It was a one sided conversation because the Roland of Evermoor remained completely silent. He had heard the pitch, decided against it, and would now ignore Siggy until he got the point and went away. Evidently, Siggy was either very persistent or very thick. Roland decided on the latter as Siggy entered the second hour of his monologue.
"Here, hold this," said Roland suddenly as he handed Siggy his ax.
Siggy was a small mousy man and, even using both hands, he was unable to heft the ax above his waist. Roland grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled Siggy towards him until their noses were only inches apart.
"Let me illuminate you about Evermoor," Roland growled to the suddenly pale Siggy. Who suddenly remembered all of the stories he had heard regarding the Barbarian of Evermoor. "There are no cities or towns in Evermoor. No Guilds, farms, inns, or malls. Only wilderness. There would be no one there to receive your envoys. No place to stay and nobody to deal with."
"Now let's pretend," continued Roland in his gravely voice, "that you actually find the paths to Evermoor, that the Trogre don't eat you and the Wood Folk don't lead you into the bogs and that you don't die due to exposure and you don't get lost and starve to death. Let's pretend that you find one of the villages and that they are willing to contract with you. Not bloody likely, but it's all fantasy right now anyway."
Siggy looked paler.
"You see, my deluded city dweller, unlike Arden, Evermoor is true wilderness. The village may be gone the next time you return. Overrun by Trogre or moved on to better hunting or wiped out by disease. You can not tame Evermoor."
I would suggest," continued Roland in an even voice, "that you do what you have done in the past and deal with the Huntsmen and the other brave souls who travel the hidden paths of Evermoor. It is far safer."
It wasn't until Roland set him down and snatched his ax back, that Sigmund realized that he was being a good six inches off the floor. He gulped loudly as he backed away from the Duke bowing. He turned and was about to run when Roland called to him.
"Master Granuvous, please tell those people, who are waiting around the corner to talk to me after you were done, what I told you. Tell them this as well: Coming to Evermoor is a choice one does not make likely or for their mundane reasons. I do not encourage visitors nor can I protect them. Now, go away."