There were plently of Jarldoms dotted throughout eastern Eretejva, and none were truly at peace with eachother. Alliances that exsisted were teethered loosely under lesser kings, some of whom ruled only long enough to see their kingdoms fall to ruin. Of course; the goal of many was to unify these scattered jarldoms, but to be king.., every Jarl wanted to be, and therein lay the issue. -Long past sundown, Early winter The Jarldom of Bjallsky. Kolbrandrheim, The King's longhouse. It would have been deathly quiet if it were not for the flickering of two braziers and the waning central firepit. The elaborately carved pillars which supported an open second floor were painted half red by light and half coated in pitch blackness. At the end of an otherwise furnitureless hall, the throne of wood coated in white bear furs proudly lay illuminated by a brazier on each side. Upon it sat Koldrandr Valdemarsson. Dressed in long red robes and snow white furs. His hair...long, blonde and wavy. He was imposing and heftly over two meters tall, overshadowing most that lived in the far west. Softly he scratched his beard as he leaned forward, the creaking of the wood cut through the silence to announce the piercing glare he aimed upon the two in front of him. No one else was in the hall. Just him and the two. "Four thousand gold talons for the head of Jarl Randviðr Ónarrson, that's my offer." The kneeling figure smirked. "You're paying half upfront."