The Beaver King, Cautionary Tales of Medieval Dysfunction

Jimerson came into the Beaverton family in the most unremarkable way possible—by marriage.

Long before titles were inherited, and before Beaverton learned to call itself royal, he married Nanwen of Mills Creek, formerly known as Nanwen of Stone Wake, sister to Brynda. At the time, this union carried little visible consequence. Nanwen was not marked for authority, nor positioned for inheritance. She was present, capable, and largely overlooked—an arrangement that suited everyone involved.

Of Jimerson himself, little was recorded with confidence. The precise details of where he originally came from are unknown. It is commonly assumed he hailed from the Capital of Vireholt, though no surviving record conclusively places him there. He spoke with the ease of someone familiar with stone corridors, ordered governance, and institutional language, yet he never claimed the city outright. When asked, he redirected. When pressed, he deferred.

What is known is that Jimerson served Solipsia under the Concordant Standard.

His service predates Beaverton’s ascent and aligns with an older period of Solipsian consolidation, when loyalty was formalized and duty was recorded with care. During this time, he sustained a significant injury in an early conflict with Thailuun, tied directly to the dispute over the indentured servitude statute later referenced during one of King Robert’s on-again religious periods. The injury was severe enough to remove him permanently from active service.

In recognition of this, Jimerson was granted compensation in perpetuity: a monthly stipend issued by the Concordant authority, guaranteed and unchallenged. The payment was not ceremonial. It was regular, documented, and quietly honored long after the conflict itself had faded from public discussion.

By all accounts, Jimerson was also a drunk. He did not exhibit a preference for any particular type of alcohol. He drank whatever was available, whatever could be obtained cheaply or freely, and whatever would not drink him first. This habit is referenced repeatedly across Concordant citations and internal memoranda.

His conduct did not rise to public scandal, but it was persistent enough to warrant formal intervention. On multiple occasions, he was cited under Concordant behavioral standards and ultimately doctrined to abstain entirely from alcohol for the remainder of his life.

This directive did not take. Over the years, subsequent notations make clear that Jimerson continued to drink, maintaining a near-constant buzz without triggering sufficient cause to revoke his compensation. He complied publicly when required, failed privately when unobserved, and existed in the administrative gray where enforcement tired before he did.

Despite this, Jimerson was not unintelligent. He enjoyed reading and was considered, by those who noticed, to be quite sharp. He favored mystery stories and accounts that carried him away from the mundane routines of his life. Books provided a form of escape that drink alone did not, and he was known to read with focus even when otherwise impaired.

It is also rumored, though never formally recorded, that Jimerson occasionally possessed illicit printed materials of a salacious nature. These rumors gained renewed attention years later, when the Revival claimed to have discovered scandalous texts within King Robert’s home during the incident in which the King feigned demonic possession for public attention. Some have suggested that the material in question did not originate with the King at all, but rather belonged to Jimerson and had passed through hands quietly, as many things did. No definitive attribution was ever made.

After returning from Concordant service, Jimerson worked for many years delivering mail for the Stone Wake Parish, carrying correspondence and official notices that arrived from the Capital and passed quietly through hands that rarely asked questions. He was reliable in this role, if unremarkable, and well suited to the routines of delivery.

Upon retiring from parish service, Jimerson discovered that he did not, in fact, enjoy being retired. Uncomfortable at home and ill at ease with idle time, he took a small civic position cleaning the Public Necessaries of Stone Wake. The work was menial but necessary, and he performed it without complaint. It placed him in public spaces where people spoke freely, moved carelessly, and rarely noticed who was listening.

Jimerson and Nanwen were married for more than thirty years and never had children. Nanwen was unable to conceive, and despite consultations with multiple physickers, no definitive diagnosis was ever agreed upon. The matter was discussed quietly, then less frequently, and eventually not at all.

Before Nanwen’s illness, the couple made a deliberate move from Stone Wake into Mills Creek, within the proper limits of Beaverton. There, they purchased land set deep within a valley and built a home upon the rise above it. The house was small but clean, well kept, and charming in a way that did not invite comment.

It was surrounded by trees and wildlife, removed from the road and the attention of others. The driveway leading up to the home was steep and difficult to traverse, particularly in inclement weather, and often impassable during the worst seasons. This isolation did not trouble them.

They had a good life there. Their days were quiet, their routines modest, and their needs few. For a time, the world beyond the hill mattered very little.

It was years later that Nanwen fell ill. Physickers would eventually name her condition Crownbound Marrow Rot, a wasting of the bone that spread upward into the brain. By the time the diagnosis was agreed upon, little could be done. Her death marked the end of a long and private marriage.

The Beaverton record notes this plainly.

Baylor the Brave remembers her differently. He speaks of Nanwen fondly and without hesitation, noting that she was nothing like the Dowager Queen or the Beaver King. In his memory, she is the grandmother he feels he should have had, warm, generous, and attentive in ways the household otherwise lacked.

He recalls her as a beautiful person, an excellent cook, and someone who always wanted to help others. He loved visiting the house up on the hill and remembered it as a place of comfort rather than obligation. He remembers the skeins of colorful yarn Nanwen kept throughout the house, and the patience with which she allowed him to play among them.

According to Baylor, and supported by years of town gossip, Nanwen of Mills Creek was also the only person who could, at times, keep her arms around the Beaver King’s behavior. It has been said that she carried the good genes of Irenna, rather than the putrid, rotten ones attributed to the Dowager Queen and her son, Robert.

Nanwen is missed.

Jimerson remained in the house on the hill for one year after her death. During that year, he drank deeply and often. His isolation sharpened rather than softened his habits, and the quiet that had once comforted him became oppressive. Neighbors reported seeing lights left burning all night, doors standing open during rainstorms, and Jimerson wandering the property muttering to himself as if in mid-conversation.

There were questionable visits. He appeared at the wrong houses, sometimes insisting he had been invited. He attempted to deliver mail years after retiring from the Parish. On more than one occasion, he was found sitting in the barn among the stored possessions, sorting items into piles that made sense only to him, then undoing the work entirely.

Eventually, physickers were consulted again. It was determined that Jimerson had developed Lanternfade, a progressive failing of memory and judgment. He forgot dates, names, and directions. He misplaced objects and then accused others of taking them. At times, he seemed entirely himself. At others, he was not.

The conclusion was unavoidable. Jimerson could no longer live alone.

It was then decided—quietly, efficiently, and without ceremony—that he would move in with the Dowager Queen Brynda.

The record does not describe his reaction.

It rarely does.