#constable visit

[chechula]

Reg(Undead yes, unperson no) and Visit(-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets), on their way to do some activism in the streets of Ankh-Morpkpork ♥ for Ari ♥

[scarecloud69]

Things To Never Say To Someone Who Just Came Out - Discworld Edition: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

(source, art my own)

[moss-under-a-rock]

I am not normal

The base is from pinterest

[erkauberscream]

reg & visit - doodles from 2021

[inspectorspacetimerevisited]

The main reason most alien planets the Inspector and his Associates visit have Earth-like conditions is

it saves on the Wardrobe Department creating new spacesuits for every Associate and every new world visited. And, the programme tries to avoid using wires to simulate low- or zero-gravity environments.

[average-wellington-wellie]

Visiting the Constable

OOC: I wanted to write the next entry in Alan’s story in fic format, so this one’s a one-shot for you, folks! Story is under the cut <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Early in the morning, Alan Days began his trek to a certain constable's house. Chilly air brushed across his skin as he walked, the only other sound besides his soft breathing being his boots' soles against the asphalt.

With every step he took, Days felt more and more anxious; the last time he had seen the constable was when he had to pick up his wife Carolyn when she "had a couple sips of whiskey and stumbled [her] way over to his house."

'Yeah, likely story, Carolyn,' Alan thought bitterly at the memory.

It didn't take too much longer for him to get to the location he desired, but he wished it did. He didn't want to start a fight, nor get into any trouble. 'It's just to talk and maybe ask questions, Alan, how hard can it really be?'

Alan took a deep breath, then let it out slowly to calm his nerves. Then he took initiative, stepping up to the door and knocking politely. He heard some rustling around inside before the door slowly opened. A rather tired-looking man wearing just a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top stood on the other side.

“Hello, Constable Dice. I’m sorry to bother you at such an early time,” Days began, “but I wanted to get this over with. May I come in?”

Constable Dice rubbed his eyes, then nodded, moving out of the way so his guest could enter. “Yer always welcome here, y’know, Alan.”

“O-oh! Thank you, that’s- that’s really kind of you.” Alan’s cheeks warmed slightly at the kind gesture. “I… have some things I need to talk to you about.”

Dice sat on his sofa and patted beside him, nodding to the other to continue once he sat. The smaller man softly thanked him before saying, “It’s about Carolyn. I know she made everything up.”

“I- ack!” The constable nearly choked on his own saliva. “U-uhm, hold on a moment.” He cleared his throat and shook himself awake a bit, then gently wrapped his arm around Alan. “I’m sorry.”

Days gave him a confused look. “What, did you have something to do with it?”

“Nay, I jus’… I heard about it, since the other bobbies were gossipin’ about the whole thing.” Dice looked at the carpet, idly tracing the patterns with his eyes. “I didn’t want to believe it. But I shoulda told ya the rumors anyway, and tha’s on me.”

Alan sadly nodded and reached up to hold the other’s hand that was on his shoulder. “I can’t blame you. I… I was nervous about coming here. I was scared I’d lose a friend, because maybe we’d fight or you’d have something to do with the whole thing. I knew you wouldn’t do something so… awful, but it’s hard to trust people right now.”

"I understand, and I'm sorry." Dice held Alan close and let him cry into his chest. "Tha's it, let it all out... Ye can stay with me as long as ya need to."

"Thank you, thank you, Dice," Days whimpered, clinging to the larger man.

Dice placed a soft kiss atop Alan's head. "Anythin' fer you, Alan."

[hellhoundmaggie]

I wish I could do all these FL OC games but I just can't get into the head of my character. She's more a vehicle I use to explore the game than a character in her own right. I have a much easier time getting into the head of my MOTR character, but I simply can't imagine her as a 60+ year old running around and having adventures with everybody's ocs I'm sorry I'm sorry

[angualupin]

“We are here, and this is now.” Constable Visit, a strict believer in the Omnian religion, occasionally quoted that from their holy book. Vimes understood it to mean, in less exalted copper speak, that you have to do the job that is in front of you.

--Terry Pratchett, Night Watch

[gay-dorito-dust]

Imagine Jason or Dick being jealous or pissed over Damian being a thirdwheel/cockblocked unintentionally with their gf lmao

That would be a funny sight to see. To make it worse, their gf loves spending time with Damian, viewing him as a smol tsundere cat-looking child that they want to kiss or nuzzle his cheeks whenever he's present lol. Of course with his consent.

Jason felt as though Damian had it out for him sometimes…

He couldn’t explain why as during the times that he did interrupt a sweet moment regarding you and him, they were few and far between for Jason to think that Damian was doing this coincidentally, but it happened too many times for him to count on one hand for it to not be apart of some grander scheme of his.

You however disagreed with that statement but Jason called you out on your bias towards his younger brother, meaning that your opinion was invalid.

You warned him that you wouldn’t cuddle him for a week if he tried that shit with you again…Jason was quick to concede to your demands because he honestly couldn’t live without your cuddles. But that didn’t change the fact that he truly believed that Damian not so secretly had it out for him, and it drove him to near insanity that he couldn’t prove it to you because Damian always acted prim and proper within your presence, clinging to your side from the moment you enter Wayne Manor up until you had to leave; all the wile acting like a demon spawn with him.

‘You feeling sleepy there chipmunk?’ Jason uttered softly upon noticing you trying your hardest to stay awake while mid-way through reading his book.

‘You’re being too comfortable Jaybirdie. I’m naturally going to fall asleep on you eventually.’ You murmured, snuggling closer into him to leech off of his warmth, pushing your head up so that it went from resting on his chest to resting against his shoulder and looking into his eyes. ‘Can I have a kiss?’ You asked. ‘What’s the magic word?’ Jason teased and when you pouted, he only chuckled and rested his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours. ‘I’m joking sweetheart, you can have all the kisses you want.’ He speaks lowly against your lips and just when he was about to kiss you, another voice spoke up from across the room.

‘Todd, l/n.’

‘Fucking- Jesus Christ.’ Jason flinched away from you and his eyes settled on Damian, who was stood at the end of the plush couch with a book of his own in hand, and asks. ‘Damian, what’re you doing here?’ You gave Jason a harsh nudge in the side along with a warning glare, only to visibly brightening upon seeing Damian. ‘Hi Damian! Don’t mind Jason he’s being a grump, would you like us to make room for you to sit down?’ Before Damian could get a word out you were already looking towards Jason and he groaned as he begrudgingly shifted to the other side of the couch.

‘Thank you l/n, I don’t know what Todd would be without your influence.’ Damian said as he took his seat in the space made available between you and Jason and cracked open his book that was filled with detailed descriptions of artists such as Claude Monet, John Constable and Jan Van Goyen just to name a few. ‘Unbelievable.’ Jason scoffed, looking anywhere other than you and Damian, impatiently tapping his finger against the arm on the couch for every second that Damian overstayed his welcome.

You however were thriving on the time you got with Damian as he showed you some of his favourite artists, telling you why that was while also information dropping interesting facts about art in general; You weren’t well versed in art and you weren’t claiming that you were but you silently thanked him for putting it into words that you could easily understand without feeling too out of your depth. After all it wasn’t very often that you visited the Wayne Manor but when you did, Damian was often the first -if not only- family member you wanted to see first and foremost.

‘You coddle him too much.’ Jason complained once after seeing you tightly hug Damian upon finding out he had come home from clearing a particularly dangerous mission all by himself. ‘I do not!’ You rebutted, crossing your arms. ‘Uh hate to break it to you chipmunk but you do in fact coddle him.’ Jason insisted, not liking the fact that he now had to share your attention with the little shit. ‘Then let’s ask him then.‘ you looked at your side where Damian was leaning against, minding his own business as he petted Alfred the cat’s black fur while the feline looked close to falling asleep. ‘Damian do I coddle you too much?’

Damian hummed as he looked into Jason’s eyes with a deadpan expression and said. ‘No you don’t, Todd’s just being jealous.’ And just like that he went back to petting Alfred the cat without a care to see the murderous look Jason was shooting him, all the while you were non the wise and were thrilled at the fact that Damian out right admitted to enjoying your company.

‘Isn’t he just the sweetest thing.’ You said to Jason who was gritting his teeth. ‘Oh ain’t he just.’ He spat and Damian smirked as he rested more of himself against you just to hear Jason growl. This was going to be a long weekend.

Dick Grayson didn’t mind Damian joining you at first, he even encouraged it purely out of the idea that Damian would get accustomed to your presence- thinking that it would form a bond between you- but Dick would soon learn that it would ultimately be his undoing.

‘Dick! Stop!’ You squealed as you poor attempts to push him away were dismissed as his hold on you tightened, pulling you further against him as he briefly put a stop to his bombardment of kisses to make a face of thought.

‘Hmmm let me think on that…I don’t think I will.’ He said as he continued to pepper kisses across your face to his heart content, all the while purposefully avoiding kissing your lips much to your growing dismay as you tried to steal at least one kiss from his lips, only to find yourself being unsuccessful in your many attempts.

‘Close but I appreciate a good attempt.’ Dick teased, pressing a kiss to your nose before cutely rubbing his nose against yours and choosing to keep his face close to your own, his lips becoming a smirk. ‘Though if a kiss is what you wanted, all you needed to do is ask and I would’ve happily obliged.’ He chuckled and pulled his face away when you tried to lean in for a kiss. ‘Stop pulling away.’ You whined and Dick couldn’t help but find it infinitely cuter when you tried to reach out to him, only for him to kiss the back of you hand before intertwine your fingers.

‘Then ask me to kiss you.’ He said. ‘Ask me to kiss you and then we’d both be happy.’ He adds on, not wanting to reveal how desperate he was for your sweet, sweet kisses just yet. However fate had other plans for him when Damian burst into the room and you had immeditly pushed Dick off of you so hard that he landed on the hard flooring of his bedroom.

‘Damian!’ You cheered. ‘How’s my favourite Wayne doing today?’

‘Your favourite?’ Dick groaned as he got up, rubbing his aching back as he looked over at the two of you, pouting. ‘I thought I was your favourite.’ Dick felt a little betrayed that you would easily discard him for his younger brother like you did, but knew that you meant nothing by it other then just raw excitement at seeing his younger brother after so long.

‘I’m doing well.’ Damian replied, giving you a small smile as he welcomed your tight hug before looking over at his older brother who looked like a kicked puppy. ‘Still putting up with Grayson and his dramatics?’ You dramatically slumped your shoulders. ‘It might as well be considered my full time job at this point.’ You joked, smiling upon hearing Dick’s gasp of disbelief.

‘I’ll have you know I am a delightful person!’ He defended himself, crossing his arms and looking away from you both. You and Damian shared a look. ‘Yeah a delightful pain in my ass.’ You whispered under your breath as you looked back at Dick while Damian smirked. ‘Are you still pouting?’ You asked.

‘Obviously!’ Dick exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air, ‘tonight was meant to be date night. Our night.’ He said, somehow managing to pout even further as he continued to glare as the opposing wall as though it had personally insulted him just now. ‘I’ll make it up to you so can you please quit with the dramatics.’ You said but Dick didn’t move and only huffed in response, showing that wasn’t good enough for him.

‘Wanna go for a walk Damian? Maybe that’ll help you with the lack of inspiration for your latest art piece?’ You then brought your attention back to the young man with the emerald eyes as he visibly perked up at the offer. ‘I could go for a walk.’ He replied and just before leaving the room he casted his eyes towards Dick. ‘What’s about him?’

‘Yeah what about him.’ Dick said sarcastically from his corner, causing you to look to the ceiling with a disbelieving smile upon your lips. ‘He can come but only on the condition that he stops being pouty.’ You said and for a minute it was silent until you felt a pair of strong arms at your waist and his face buried in your neck. ‘Only if we can go back to our regularly scheduled date night.’ Dick muttered against your skin. ‘Without Damian.’ He adds and you rub your hands over the back of his reassuringly. ‘Certainly my little dickie bird. No need to get jealous of your little brother now. It’s not a good look on you.’ You teased him this time and dick groaned. ‘Only when you stop encouraging his behaviour.’ He said.

You scoffed. ‘Says the one who was all for us having a bond.’

‘And I’ve learnt my lesson.’ Dick retorted. ‘There’s only room for one person in your heart and it’s me and I’m not sharing.’ You cooed as you pressed a kiss to his temple. ‘Careful there, you almost sound possessive.’ You taunted him, having way too much teasing him and giving him a taste of his own medicine.

‘So what if I am?’ Dick asked.

‘Then I’d say that you have nothing to worry about,’ you reassured him, picking one of his hands from your waist and kissing it before allowing it to go back to your waist, ‘you’ll always be my number one dickie bird.’

It was sad that date night didn’t go to plan but by the end of the night you, Dick and Damian were fast asleep on the couch with Dick flat on his back and holding you against his chest, while you held Damian against your chest and Damian cuddling up to the both of you and holding onto you tightly; deathly afraid of letting go but his grip going completely slack upon falling asleep.

[scareclouddraws]

second batch right from the oven!!

!! Feel free to use them for memes, edits, or profile pictures !!

just please tag me (this blog or @scarecloud69)

characters names under cut

(left to right, top to bottom)

Twoflower

Willikins

Visit-The-Infidel-With-Explanatory-Pamphlets

Sergeant Fred Colon

Detritus

The Librarian

Greebo (Human Form)

Susan Sto Helit

Nanny Gytha Ogg

Lady Sybil Vimes (Ramkin)

Cheery Littlebottom

Magrat Garlick

First batch, more on the way!!

(left to right, top to bottom)

Mustrum Ridcully

Samuel Vimes

Havelock Vetinari

Moist von Lipwig

Death

Angua von Überwald

Adora Belle Dearheart

Nobby Nobbs

Granny Esme Weatherwax

Ponder Stibbons

Rincewind

Carrot Ironfoundersson

[apeirotilio]

inside every discworld fan is a Constable Visit with a stack of explanatory pamphlets waiting to burst out at the merest suggestion, like a werewolf at full moon

[mybeingthere]

Norval Morrisseau, CM (1932 – 2007), also known as Copper Thunderbird, was an Aboriginal Canadian artist. Known as the "Picasso of the North", Morrisseau created works depicting the legends of his people, the cultural and political tensions between native Canadian and European traditions, his existential struggles, and his deep spirituality and mysticism. His style is characterized by thick black outlines and bright colors. He founded the Woodlands School of Canadian art and was a prominent member of the “Indian Group of Seven”.

An Anishinaabe, he was born March 14, 1931 on the Sand Point Ojibway reserve near Beardmore, Ontario. Some sources quote him as saying that he was born in Fort William, now part of Thunder Bay, Ontario, on the same date in 1931. His full name is Jean-Baptiste Norman Henry Morrisseau, but he signs his work using the Cree syllabics writing ᐅᓵᐚᐱᐦᑯᐱᓀᐦᓯ (Ozaawaabiko-binesi, unpointed: ᐅᓴᐘᐱᑯᐱᓀᓯ, "Copper/Brass [Thunder]Bird"), as his pen-name for his Anishnaabe name ᒥᐢᒁᐱᐦᐠ ᐊᓂᒥᐦᑮ (Miskwaabik Animikii, unpointed: ᒥᐢᑿᐱᐠ ᐊᓂᒥᑭ, "Copper Thunderbird").

In accordance with Anishnaabe tradition, he was raised by his maternal grandparents. His grandfather, Moses Potan Nanakonagos, a shaman, taught him the traditions and legends of his people. His grandmother, Grace Theresa Potan Nanakonagos, was a devout Catholic and from her he learned the tenets of Christianity. The contrast between these two religious traditions became an important factor in his intellectual and artistic development.

At the age of six, he was sent to a Catholic residential school, where students were educated in the European tradition, native culture was repressed, and the use of native language was forbidden. After two years he returned home and started attending a local community school.

At the age of 19, he became very sick. He was taken to a doctor but his health kept deteriorating. Fearing for his life, his mother called a medicine-woman who performed a renaming ceremony: She gave him the new name Copper Thunderbird. According to Anishnaabe tradition, giving a powerful name to a dying person can give them new energy and save their lives. Morrisseau recovered after the ceremony and from then on always signed his works with his new name.

Morrisseau contracted tuberculosis in 1956 and was sent to Fort William Sanatorium to recover. There he met his future wife Harriet Kakegamic with whom he had seven children, Victoria, Michael, Peter, David, Lisa, Eugene, and Christian.

After being invited by Ontario Provincial Police Constable, Robert Sheppard, to meet the artist, the anthropologist Selwyn Dewdney, became an early advocate of Morrisseau's and was very interested in Morrisseau's deep knowledge of native culture and myth. Dewdney was the first to take his art to a wider public.

Jack Pollock, a Toronto art dealer, helped expose Morrisseau's art to a wider audience in the 1960s. The two initially met in 1962 while Pollock was teaching a painting workshop in Beardmore. As Pollock did not drive, Susan Ross whom Morrisseau had met in 1961 and Sheila Burnford drove Pollock to visit Morrisseau at his home to view more of his works. Immediately struck by the genius of Morrisseau's art, he immediately organized an exhibition of his work at his Toronto gallery.

This is a part of the Wikipedia article used under the Creative Commons Attribution-Sharealike 3.0 Unported License (CC-BY-SA). The full text of the article is here →

[sketch-fish]

And last ones so far for the initial batch, Cheery and Visit. Yes I know I dropped titles after the first couple but I can't change those now because of this inadvisable post structure. Ah well. It'll work better in the future when I don't actually have a couple all lined up at once. Anyway, that's all from Discworld for the time being, I've got a half finished Dorfl and Reg still sitting around.

Starting off some sketches of the Ankh Morpork City Watch (from Discworld) with Commander Vimes and Captain Carrot. More Watch members to follow.

[charlottearthistory]

‘the hay wain’ - john constable (1821)

today i visited the scene of this iconic english painting and wanted to share it with you all! remarkably the house looks exactly as it did all those centuries ago, though the landscape has grown wild due to years of being untouched.

[scotianostra]

December 12th 1902 saw the birth of Nan Mackinnon or, to give her her Gaelic patronymic, Nan Eachainn Fhionnlaigh, at Kentangaval, Isle Of Barra.

Nan was a tradition-bearer, whose remarkable memory, enthusiasm, and love of the Gaelic oral tradition has ensured that her wealth of knowledge has been preserved and shared with future generations. She became known as Nan of Vatersay, or Nan of the songs.

Nan was the youngest of seven children. Her father, Hector (Eachann Fhionnlaigh), was also born and raised in Kentangaval, and was descended from the MacKinnons of Strath, Skye – the historic grazing constables to the MacNeils of Barra until the 19th century. Nan's mother Mary was from Mingulay, and had strong connections with the MacPhee family, who – according to local tradition – came to settle in Barra in the 14th century. Nan grew up in what was a politically tumultuous time in the Highlands, and this influenced her early life greatly. Despite having won security of tenure twenty years before Nan was born, there remained a strong sense of injustice at the uneven distribution of land in the Highlands. Having spent her early years in Barra, in 1907 Nan's father was part of the 'Vatersay Raiders' – landless cottars from Barra and Mingulay who carried out a land raid on Vatersay, establishing crofts on the neglected land. Despite the eventual failure of the Land Raid, Nan's family were eventually given a croft in Baile, Vatersay following the purchase of land on the island by the Congested Districts Board.

Nan's repertoire was among some of the most extensive and varied of her generation, and this is reflected in the recordings of her featured on the Tobar an Dualchais website. She came from a rich musical tradition, and was said to know around 400 songs by heart, most of which she learned from her mother. After receiving her schooling on the island, Nan left home when she was seventeen and – as was common for women of her age at the time – spent a number of years in service for a variety of people in Argyll. She also worked at the herring for a time, in both Shetland and Yarmouth before going to Glasgow. One of her sisters died suddenly in 1940, leaving four young children and a husband who was away at sea for long periods. Nan returned home to Vatersay to raise the children and remained there for the rest of her life.

Nan McKinnon had a great fondness for the stories and songs she knew, and she was convinced of the importance of the oral tradition to Gaelic communities. Growing up she would spend hours practising them until she knew them in their entirety. As Nan herself commented: "[Each story] tells the ways of the people that lived in those days. The waulking songs kept news alive from generation to generation. There were no newspapers, whereas today we read it in the papers and forget about it tomorrow. But the songs kept it alive. Those happenings that happened centuries ago are still to be told in song and story. It's wonderful." Over and above her repertoire of songs, Nan was also well known for her tales and legends – often of a supernatural nature – and her captivating story style. She also had a deep knowledge of the traditions of Uist and Barra, and was recording speaking about a variety of subjects from cures to feast days, to interpretations of omens and dreams. Her knowledge of the material culture of her native island was also extensive, and her recordings include discussions about traditional diet, including about what would be eaten when food was scarce.

There are almost 1,000 recordings of Nan on the Tobar an Dualchais website, the earliest dating back to 1953 when she was recorded by Donald MacPherson for the Canna Collection, several other visited her and recorded her over the years, she must have been quite the wee celebrity on Vatersay

James Ross summed up her significance as a tradition-bearer by saying: "Nan is the type of person that the folklore and folk-song collectors dream about. There is absolutely no trace of 'memory effect' as she responds to queries … Her answers are always a direct affirmative or negative, usually … the former. She never has to search her mind, and this, together with her unstinting co-operation, endless patience and subtle sense of humour, made the work of collecting a joy."

At the link below you can listen to Nan singing Griogal Cridhe, (literally "Gregor of the Heart", or "Beloved Gregor". It is a traditional Scottish lament and lullaby that was composed in Gaelic by Mór Chaimbeul ("Marion Campbell"), the widow of Griogair Ruadh Mac Griogair ("Gregor the Red MacGregor") (1541–1570), the chief of the Clan MacGregor of Glen Strae, who was executed at Taymouth Castle, Perthshire, on April 7th, 1570. There are many versions of the lyrics

Griogal Cridhe

Chorus;

Òbhan, òbhan, òbhan i ri

Òbhan i ri ò

Òbhan, òbhan, òbhan i ri

'S mòr, mo mhulad, 's mòr.

'S iomadh oidhche fhliuch is thioram,

Sìde nan seachd sian,

Gheibheadh Griogal dhomhsa creagan

Ris an gabhainn dìon.

Eudail mhòir, a shluagh an Domhain,

Dhòirt iad t'fhuil o'n dè,

'S chuir iad do cheann air stob daraich

Tacan beag bho d'chrè.

B' annsa bhi le Griogal cridhe

Teàrnadh chruidh le gleann,

Na le Baran mòr na Dalach,

Sìoda geal mu m' cheann.

Chan eil ùbhlan idir agam,

'S ùbhlan uil' aig càch,

'S ann tha m'ùbhlan-s' cùbhr' ri caineal

'S cùl a chinn ri làr.

'Nuair a bhios mnàthan òg a'bhaile,

'Nochd nan cadal sèimh,

'S ann bhios mis' air bruaich do lice,

'Bualadh mo dhà làimh.

Many a night, wet or dry

weather of the seven elements

Gregor would get me a rocky shelter

Against the storm

Greatest treasure in all the world

They spilt your blood yesterday

And they put your head on a post of oak

A little way from your body

Would that I were with beloved Gregor

Herding cattle in the glen

Than with the great Baron of the Dale

White silk around my head

I have no apples at all

Others have all the apples

My apple with the fragrance of cinnamon

The back of his head to the ground

When the young women of the village will be

Tonight sleeping soundly

I will be at your graveside

Beating my two hands

With the above being a lament I thought I would post another song from Nan, Haoi Ho Nach Dannsadh Sibh E is a much more upbeat song, according to the notes Nan’s mother heard this song from Lewis women at the fishing. Another source tells me that this is the only variant of that song, so without t the work of the likes of Donald MacPherson, and indeed Margaret Fay Shaw, some of these songs would have been lost to the world, they are an integral, very important part of our Gaelic roots. This song is a light vocal dance tune with a love theme. The song is of the type common among the women who worked as herring gutters.

https://www.tobarandualchais.co.uk/track/108438?l=en

[whencyclopedia]

Harlech Castle

Harlech Castle, located in North Wales, was first built by Edward I of England (r. 1272-1307 CE) from 1283 CE. Largely completed by 1290 CE, the castle received some further additions up to 1330 CE. A classic example of a concentric medieval castle, Harlech skilfully used local topography, the sea, and imposing towers to represent a formidable challenge to any attackers, as proven in the lengthy sieges of the Welsh rebellions and the Wars of the Roses during the turbulent 15th century CE. Harlech Castle is listed by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.

Edward I's Castle Building

From 1272 CE Edward I, the new king of England, conquered most of Wales and joined it with the county system present in England. Following the death of Llywelyn, the Prince of Wales, in 1282 CE, the only part of Wales which remained free was the wild mountainous north and here the king built several major castles which included Caernarfon Castle, Conwy Castle, and Harlech Castle. Work began on Harlech Castle in June 1283 CE, the vast team of labourers, masons, and craftsmen being supervised by Master James of Saint Georges (c. 1235-1308 CE), the experienced architect and engineer who had previously built castles in Europe and who would be involved in many of Edward's other Welsh castles.

As with any major castle, the choice of location would be the key to its chances of withstanding siege or attacks. Harlech was built on one of the most secure spots any castle was erected upon, sited on a rocky crag which rose straight out of the sea (today the sea has receded). There was also vital access to a small port or quay which meant that in times of trouble the castle could easily be supplied by boats (although one does not envy the porters who had to climb the 100+ steps with their heavy loads). The king visited the site in person to check progress over three days in August 1283 CE, and by the end of the first major building phase, he must have been happy with the results as he made Master James constable of the castle in 1290 CE, a position he would hold until 1293 CE.

Harlech would, by 1303 CE, eventually cost 8,184 pounds to construct (around $11 million today) but that was still a third cheaper than the cost of Caernarfon or Conwy. This is because the castle was both smaller and less ornate in its stonework and design. Even more significantly, the castle used local stone and so avoided the heavy costs of transportation of cumbersome materials. Another 400 pounds were spent on the castle between 1303 and 1330 CE.

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