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Fantasy ◙-Fᴀᴛᴇ ᴏғ Sᴛᴇᴇʟ-◙

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Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏғ Sʜᴇᴘʙʀᴏᴏᴋ

The opening volley from the archers elicits a chorus of panicked shouts and screams of pain as the arrows fetch down some twenty men, and wounding many more among the ranks of the enemy. Many of the bowmen loose their arrows at too great of an arc, their arrows peppering the sparse rearward ranks of the enemy and simply sticking into the dirt. One mounted man in ring armour has an arrow pierce past his open aventail and into his neck, and he falls with a gurgle from his warhorse as his lance and shield rattle to the ground. A groom in a nailed jerkin dismounts and takes an arrow to the chest while trying to drag him to safety, and a sergeant is killed when he's thrown from his horse after it was wounded by an arrow.

Some men raise their shields to avoid the arrows coming at them from head on, but find themselves wounded by ones coming from above - though many of these lose their momentum. Still, it proves a dangerous rain to the mostly unarmoured men in the army, many of whom only have small shields such as bucklers with which to defend themselves from such an attack - in anything at all. An unlucky few soldiers find themselves wounded despite hiding in front of their shields, with one man having an arrow from a warbow splinter past the old wood of his shield, pierce his flesh, and finally burst out of the leather strap on the other side of his wrist.

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If anything, the hail of arrows only makes the foe more angry. Darndonlanders curse at your army like raving madmen, smashing their shields and weapons harshly together with a mighty clamour. Javelins, axes and stones are thrown with fury, and arrows are shot back at you by Mallick's own archers. Skirmishers push past the ranks of his foot and begin to begin to hurl their missiles.

An arrow glances off of Young Amias's shield, and a cry is heard nearby. "Woah - AGHH!" A horse squeals violently throws off its saddled groom after taking an arrow shaft's splinter in the eye. The groom breaks open the whole of his head on a rock as he falls with a sickening noise. His sword lies on the ground in front of his twitching, jerking body, and his Enguerrand tabard is muddied.

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Charibert's steed stirs as arrows and spears begin to stick into the ground near him. "Easy, lad, it's alright," your high captain said - more to his horse - and gave a wave to the men on foot that were prepared to heed his orders. "Move up the skirmishers. Slings, javelins, bows - get to the front," he shouts, urging some of the sergeants standing aside him to relay his orders further down the line. Hopefully, this will pin down some of the retaliators.

"Argh!" A poor country man takes an arrow in the leg near Young Amias, making him drop his fork and fall into the grass, clutching his leg as he cries out. "Oh, oh, Paragon! Matron's mercy! Aaagghhhh - Help!" A young woman pushes past some of the scrambling archers and begins to drag him away, shooing away a young boy that asks if he should pull it out.

Charibert has his hornblower signal for the infantry to get their shields up and move forward to protect the cavalry, while other men hide behind them and do what they can to whittle down the ranks of the Darndonlanders in front of them, who reciprocate with deadly prejudice. "Aye - Sir! My lord! What do we do?" Lord Telemar asks the son of his liege, yet again. The arrows had little effect on the many thousands of foemen overall.

The opposing shieldwall begins to creep closer to your lines, with bowmen and skirmishers on both sides scurrying about. More of these men retreat back behind their respective shieldwalls the closer the lines get. Meanwhile, the Darndonland cavalry appear to not have moved.

"We need to charge, take them while we still can. The bridge - it will be too narrow to go back across, you know," warns Sir Trempe. It's unknown whether he is referring to the foot, the horse, or both.​

 
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Sir Amias watches as arrows are exchanged between his army and the enemy. The sky blackens, covered in the projectiles. Men are felled all around him, and his squire-brother even takes an arrow to his shield. Mallick's horsemen do not charge as Amias had hoped, instead, their full army begins to make a steady advance. Amias would not have the luxury of reacting to his opponent's manuever.

"With me! Infantry, hold! Sirs Bigge, stay back in command! Should our lines clash, shift the mailedmen to the left!" Amias calls out, before galloping off toward the enemy. He leads his fellow knights, and the rest of the cavalry, toward Mallick's right flank, where his troops are less dense and not backed by archers. He hopes to bait Mallick into a counter-charge, but if he will not, ravaging the enemy's infantrymen before disengaging in preperation for yet another charge would suffice.

"FOR SHERFIELD!"​
 
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  • Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏғ Sʜᴇᴘʙʀᴏᴏᴋ

    "Come on, boys! For Sherfield!" Sir Trempe throws down his visor as the line of mounted men begin to pick up the pace, hundreds of hoofbeats thundering into the air. Tobin tilts his lance, as do Lord Declan and Sir Greydan. "For Carmondy!" The mailed chivalry of the nation to the south prove a menacing sight with their fine armour and colourful surcoats. Their horses are covered in padded trappers, bright caparison and coats of mail.

    The beating of hooves and the ever-nearer shouts and menaces of the foe herald the imminent clash of steel. Your couched lance skewers a Darndonland warrior through the throat, and carries forth with such impetus that it severs his head from his body. Your horse squeals and kicks a man in the head as your lance is brought about, the shaft striking another footman in the head. Axes and darts are thrown by clanfolk, but their lightly armoured contingents suffer the worst once the horses impact them, impaling their cloaked, bearded forms on their lances. Dozens of other footmen cower in the wake of the horses, but gradually, spears jut forth from the shieldwall, opposing your horse. The men-at-arms throw themselves among the throngs of infantry, heavy mounts trampling men and crushing their bones as swords and lances menace forth from their riders.

    Charibert's lance has already broken off in somebody, if his bloody shoulder is any indication. His sword is already gleaming red with blood as he slices and maims the crowd of foemen set before him, Charibert battering their shields aside with the help of his aggressive steed, striking with its front hooves.

    Young Amias has his lance glance off of a soldier's helmet, shattering and becoming useless, though it does knock him to the ground - and it's unknown if he'll be getting back up. A man in an iron cap starts grabbing at the reins of Amias's horse, while a wood clansman in nothing but a sackcloth tunic leaps up and tries to grab at Young Amias in order to pull him from his horse, likely intent on seizing the little lordling for ransom.

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​

 
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"Agh! Get...Off!" Young Amias screams as he's grappled by a poor levyman, writhing within his grip. Desperately, he clutches at the dirk stowed on his horse - he reckoned it would be a better tool for this sort of encounter than the shortsword at his hip. Bucking his horse every which way, the young boy would savagely stab at his attacker again and again, assuming he'd managed to get his dagger free from it's sheath.

"Hyah!" Sir Amias shouts as he strikes down yet another foe with his lance. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, he takes a brief survey of the situation. His fellow mounted men had wrought great destruction on the enemy's infantrymen, but still, Mallick himself had made no move. Amias had little time to question his opponent's reluctance to engage, as he was beginning to be recognized, and converged upon. Beating a hasty retreat, he would turn back, facing the row of horsemen of the enemy.

"Mallick, you cowardly dog! Come and fight me!" Amias commanded. Though it was highly unlikely that Lord Cerham would hear Sir Amias' challenge, some of his footmen would, and the fact that their liege had not yet come to their aid may demoralize them.

Finally, Amias whistled loudly to catch the attention of his cavalrymen. "Pull back!" he shouted. Though a great deal of his men had become entangled in melee with the foemen - including Young Amias, whom Sir Amias had lost track of - many had also broken free and followed Amias in his retreat.

As such, Amias would gallop off a good distance away, before stopping and turning hoove. Once his cavalry had regrouped, he would assess the situation once more - had Mallick finally moved from his post behind his lines, Amias would lead his fellows to engage him and his bodyguard. Should they not, Amias would lead his horse for yet another charge at Mallick's right, bellowing a courageous war-cry.

"Look how they crumble! Like stale biscuyte! Hah!"​
 
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Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏғ Sʜᴇᴘʙʀᴏᴏᴋ

Through the clash of steel on steel, you hear the sound of your young brother crying out as he is finally pulled off the horse - though you see a distant spray of crimson from the man behind him... Amias III had dispatched at least one of the foe with his fighting dagger, but it would do little to save him. Moments later, he is surrounded by spearmen and struck in the head with the shaft of a spear, before becoming sorely beaten and kicked. Is it now the the end of this son of Sherfield?

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The squire is grabbed by a pair of men wearing tunics and war hats and is hauled off deeper behind the lines. His helmet is pulled off, along with his swordbelt - and his daggerhand must have had a broken finger or two from being stamped upon by the Darndonland soldiers.

However, the retribution over the stabbed comrade is really halfhearted. Even though Sir Sackcloth seems likely to die from the wounds inflicted upon him by the squire, nobody intends to kill the young Enguerrand - especially not on account of some wild clansman. Amias III's heraldry is plain to see, as was the quality of his horse, bridle and bascinet - he is worth far more alive than dead. The fact he's adorned with the magnificent colour purple tells one all they need to know. Besides, the soldiers quickly refocus their efforts on their other Sherfield enemies.

The squire is picked from the ground by a pair of men wearing tunics and war hats and is hauled off deeper behind the lines - a bowman also ends up assisting, holding his feet. One Enguerrand man-at-arms attempts to wade into the fray, cutting down a foot soldier, and then another as sword and spear strikes glance off of his armour - but he is struck in the back of the head with a club, and has his brains dashed against the ground before he can aid any further. Sir Melstar smashes several men with his mace, but his horse fetched down. He rolls, and takes up his sword, continuing to fight valiantly - but a foot soldier manages to parry his next strike, and smashes his jaw open with a buckler. His helmet flies off, the knight staggered, before another man sinks a battle axe into the back of his head, splitting through his mail, sending rivets and rings flying as gore soaks into the bit, Melstar's knees now buckling.

As you look over your shoulder, you are able to see it all. It's too late - Amias III is taken, and you are down a knight... maybe more.

~

The bruised boy is thrown to the ground in front of the commander of the opposing army, who lowers his imperious gaze to the captive as he sits high on his tan warhorse, seeming at first irritated that his survey of the battle has been interrupted. Then Mallick's eyes narrow at the crest that the boy wears, and he smiles. Waving at one of his servants, the three men that brought the boy in have their names recorded, and they are sent to the reserve line.

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Mallick Cerham

Mallick dismounts from his horse, handing the reins off to his grooms. The High Lord of Darndon reaches down and grabs you by the front of your hauberk, pulling you onto your feet, his smile yellow and his eyes dark. He grabs hold of the mail coif upon your head, should you still be wearing it, and doffs it forcibly. "Trumpet," he over to his musician, as the noble produces his dagger from its scabbard and holds it against the squire's throat. "Send a herald, and let the foe's leaders know that this scamp will suffer so long as they remain afield." He pats the young man on the shoulder, but his hold on the blade is firm. "What bad luck it would be - to leave a boy of his own name to die. I doubt he will," he reassures the squire - though at the same time he ready to gut him in a moment's notice.

The horn sounds across the field as Sir Amias begins to regroup his horsemen for a second charge. On the small hill behind Darndonland's lines which overlooks the battlefield, a man in a conical helmet and great green cape can be seen holding hostage the young scion of Sherfield, Amias III himself. Many men in the Darndonland army cheer when the prisoner is brought out before all.

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From the army of the foe, a rider is dispatched to treat with Sir Amias under the flag of parley. It is Sir Rethor, a knight in the Lord of Shepbrook's retinue. "His High Lordship would like to inform you of your brother's capture, Sir Amias." The terms are quite simple... "You must disband this army at once, and return to your lands - or else he will be killed here and now, and not painlessly. By order of my liege, Amias III will remain in his custody as insurance against further aggression by your family. What shall I tell him?"

​
 
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Young Amias had been successful in retrieving his dagger, and thrashed the clansman no less than eight times before being dismounted. He is disarmed, and badly beaten, before being dragged to Lord Mallick, and taken hostage upon a hill. He offers the enemy no words, and tries his best not to cry or seem scared, though he very much wants to. He would not grant the scoundrels the satisfaction. He watches as a knight of Shepbrook approaches the cavalrymen of Houses Enguerrand, Telemar, Thorpe and Eacciw, and his blood boils. He knows he's being used as a bargaining chip. Surely, his brother would not let him be killed?​

As Sir Amias regrouped with his cavalry, he looked back to the fray to see whom had been left behind. He watched as Sirs Melstar and Boudoir, his lord-father's Bailiff of Porthaewidge and Lord Morran's hearth knight respectively, are ripped from their horses and disappear in the crowd of foemen, undoubtedly clubbed or stabbed to death. Several men-at-arms toting sigils of Houses Telemar, Eacciw, and Thorpe suffer similar fates. For them, Amias would whisper a short prayer, pleading that their souls may be guided to the Light. As his eyes scanned the fighting, he saw something else much more troubling - Young Amias had been torn from his horse, and was being dragged back behind enemy lines. "No! My brother! They've got him! Bastards got him!" Sir Amias shouted in despair.

Shortly thereafter, Young Amias was held on display up on a high hill, and before Sir Amias could initiate his second charge, a knight bearing the sigil of the Lordship of Shepbrook approaches, to parley. He, on behalf of his liege, demanded that Amias give up the field, and return to his lands. It is a long few moments during which Sir Amias considers his response.

"I am not my Lord-father, I am simply a knight, and commander of this army in his stead. I do not have the right to disband this army, or acquiesce to your demands -- however, I would be willing to grant your liege a brief respite whilst he negotiates with my own, though I cannot say that the armies of our allies will halt their advances into your undefended lands. If this is not acceptable...then do as you must. But I will avenge my brother thousands-fold; you will be shown no quarter. In your act of barbarity, you forfeit your lives should you be captured, and the lives of all of your people, should we be victorious. We will rape and pillage without conscience, eradicate your bloodlines wholly, slaughter your lowfolk like cattle, take your mothers, wives, sisters and daughters as broodmares, and it will all be in beautiful Amias' name. Whether or not murdering a young boy is worth such damnation, is Mallick's choice."​
 
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Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴏғ Sʜᴇᴘʙʀᴏᴏᴋ

Sir Rethor shook his head. "I am not sure if the High Lord will find this amicable. Make the choice for yourself, Sir Amias. Avoid this bloodshed while you still can. It is needless said that such atrocity will be verily returned in kind. Should you have a change of heart, sound the trumpet thrice. Goodbye, Sir." The knight bowed his head, retiring to his liege. Several dreadful minutes passed, and the response was relayed to Mallick, who visibly became redder - likely as Sir Rethor went into detail. The rhetoric of Sir Amias elicits scowls among the Darndonmen as it is heard.

"Your brother would have everyone in the kingdom die, it seems." Mallick took his free hand off of his captive's shoulder, and grabbed a fistful of his hair instead. Only briefly drawing his dagger away from his throat, Mallick now used it to put out the left eye of Amias III, slicing it open to its jelly. He gave no more words or mercy to the boy, having little choice but to make an example of him. He holds his bloody dagger in the air and lets the squire bleed before his recalcitrant older brother and his opposing army.

"Prepare the charge," the High Lord of Darndonland called to his marshal. All the mounted might of Darndonland was assembled before him. "Make ready!" shouted one of Mallick's lords. Knights and men-at-arms clad in rings, rivets and banded plates grip shield and lance, pennons fluttering in the wind. Battle-bred horses whickered, and their riders jeered and shouted at the Sherfielders.​
 
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​

This watchman Tillenghurst showed potential, if only because the bloated Lord Gula found his ambitions and appetites amusing. The offer would have be to tantalizing enough to secure the brute's loyalty. That was simple enough, promotion to Commander of the City Watch. Money and power without land, keeping the brute bound to Lord Gula and his compatriots. It also allowed them to still hold land and title in reserve for later should this brute prove more useful than expected. If he should prove a liability in the long term? A whore with a knife could settle that business easier than anything else.

Beyond this, efforts were ongoing to arm and prepare the ghettos. To feed the fuel of resentment to a nice simmer until they were in position to move. The gatehouse was problematic but the tainted casks would have to be risked. They would seek the most abused and resentful of the servants and underlings. People who wanted more out of life than the shit rolling down hill form those above them.

"We will work the lessers, these servants and squires. Carefully but surely. They have weaknesses and desires. Work them like we would any other. If they discover our gambit... we can use it to feed the rage of the people. The Magistry will squeeze in response. Squeezing is suitable if poison is made impossible. The people will rage and we'll feed that rage with arms," Ricardi said as he paused to lounge back and sip wine.

"Sir Amyne... how delightful. Yes, we will use him. The worst that can happen is he'll kill himself in shame and create new openings. The scandal might shake up the local knights as well. However, should he hold his nerve and serve us, all the better. We will make him an excellent vector into the gatehouse. He may be a means to better guide our efforts with the servants and staff as well. Let us explore this new pawn."

There was some thought about the Silver Goblet in with the options available. Lord Gula pondered much about this as he savored an extensive luncheon with his council. He had appearances to keep and his reputation for gluttony was one he continued to aggressively maintain. To be seen as fat and harmless was better than for the rulers of Gwyburgh to realize the spider still lurking so close to home.

"Entice the brewmaster with a new brewery. We'll use the construction to conceal weapon shipments heading for the inn. Stronger drink means more words will flow as well as draw in more customers. Profit in coin and secrets to guide our greater plans."

Again Lord Gula pauses and helps himself to more wine, the bloated nobleman pondering the involvement of their King. Rebellion required royal support on some level, yet there was the worry that the King would interfere in some manner. A complication when Gula himself wanted to shore up the King and position himself as his new Chancellor.

"Make quiet contact and see what the King is planning or desires. Tell him there are loyal subjects to his cause. Then watch him and his agents. Find out what you can. We must align ourselves to his efforts just enough to help if he is truly seeking the freedom of his crown. If he is choosing to be weak... we will find another of the line when the time comes."​
 
"Dammit!" Sir Amias curses under his breath as Sir Rethon takes his leave. While it was true it was not Sir Amias' station to order a withdraw under such circumstances, on further reflection, fueled by panic after seeing their dark work begin on his younger brother, Sir Amias would give in, in anguish. Instead of commanding a hornblower, the knight would take a trumpet from one himself, unwilling to speak to his subjects from his shame, and blow thrice as requested.

"Away," is the only word Sir Amias mutters to his cavalry, and with downcast eyes, he would lead them back to his lines at a quick trot, before leading home the army altogether.

Sir Amias had been defeated, before the battle had truly started. What now? Would Mallick attack despite his demands for non-aggresion? Would Lords Torrek or Grannos push on, resulting in his young brother's demise? Would his squire ever forgive him for the cruelties brought on him before he changed his mind? Would he ever live down his actions here today, turning tail in the face of such injustice and savagery?

"I will burn him at a stake," Sir Amias muttered lowly, so that only Sir Charibert and perhaps his son would hear. His eyes flamed with anger. His hands twitched as they clutched his mount's reigns. "Take my brother's eye...I'll take his fucking manhood, feed it to Mosley, and leave him to drain! He has made the worst mistake of his life. Escalating a petty feud into total war. Pah. Bastard. He will rue this day, and wish he had just fought like a man."​

"Amias, you should have withdrawn immediately! What the hell does it matter if I'm there or not!? You are my eldest, my heir, you may speak for me! Do you truly think I'd have had any other choice!?" Lord Amias scolded his knightly son upon hearing the news.

"It shouldn't have been put on me to make such a decision! You should have been there, dammit! You could have me tried for treason for this! And my reputation will never be the same! They already whisper, 'Amias the Fickle'! Damn you for this!" Sir Amias retorted, with fire.

"And damn you for allowing Mallick to blind your young brother! And damn you for threatening to - to - to GENOCIDE the Darndonmen! Now, you just might have doomed us all, should the war be lost! You stubborn, psychotic fool! Begone! Get out of my fucking sight!" Lord Amias screams. For the old lord to raise his voice, to use such vulgarity, was a rarity.

"You should be very mindful of how you speak to me, you old gobshite," Sir Amias growls, in a thinly-veiled threat. Lord Amias' eyes widen - what...what could he possibly mean? Surely not...? Before he could deign a reply, Sir Amias took his leave, slamming the door to his lord's hall with such force that it continued to bounce off it's frame a minute later, and it would not close properly again, requiring replacement.

"Son!" Lord Amias would call after him, to no avail. He would not return. Tears flew freely from Lord Amias' eyes as he instructed Tonis, for once, to scribe a missive to Lord Mallick, asking that he name his price and giving his word as a nobleman that no further moves will be made by Amias, nor his allies, should his son be released. Lord Amias would also appeal to Mallick's sense of justice, requesting the extradition of Marson Kads, describing the nature of his crimes.​
 
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Edmund Atwater - Lord of Royton, Patriarch of the Atwater Family
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The Lord Mayor of Royton stared out of his office window, his right index finger methodically tapping the polished oaken table he was sitting near. His mind wandering as the sight of the day's traders bargaining and exchanging goods caused a slight smirk to appear on his lips. “At least one thing remains constant”, he mused to himself as the sigils of various origins and repute flew from their craft. It has been… tiring to say the least for Edmund these past few months. It seems not one month can pass without some other noblemen throwing men into the meat grinder, it caused not only volatility within the market, seeing as the torching of fields caused the prices to go up, but dangers of conflict so close could lead to Royton being dragged in involuntarily.

He sighed before turning towards the letter from his good friend, though what little he could do for the old man he at least would send a prayer that all went well for him. It would be tragic if those of a fellow mercantile nature be lost within these times, and even more so a good friend. Picking up a quill and parchment, Edmund started to write a letter back, nothing more than well wishes and the daily monotonous ramblings and complaints that the small witan have berated him with.

It wasn’t without good reason, the Atwater patriarch had seemingly missed an opportunity to complete some mercenary work for the now late Lord Bomric. Edmund, not wishing to outright create ill tidings with the Lord of Aldwyn and his allies, waited for a potential correspondence. However, the battle at Bronsfield had caused a headache for the young lord. Now not one week passes that both the small and large witans don’t exclaim the missed profits brought in by mercenary work, but Edmund knew better. Those snakes would find any excuse to try and blemish his repute, it was more than understandable for the young lord to be hesitant, had Royton merely contracted mercenaries to Myre, it was all well to possible that the Aldwyn allies to assume Royton itself was part of the conflict, and the city would be surrounded at all sides in mere days.

No, instead as Edmund looked at it, an even greater opportunity has presented itself. With the deaths of Lord Bomric and his heir, and with the withdrawal of Yonbry from the conflict, the new heir apparent, Lady Malcress-Grannos, needed men more than ever to enforce her claim. Despite Edmund’s distaste for the study of steel and blood, she will have her men, though the price will be one not so cheap. But there was opportunity on both sides, his cousin, a young man who served the Lord Berngard, had come with a similar, albeit less profitable offer.

By the time Edmund had finished his letter his old friend, donning on a bright smile, stood up and walked towards Sir Royck. He replied in a joyful tone “Cousin, it is truly an honor that the talented, young Lord Robert has the desire to hire the men of Royton.” he held up a finger to pause his cousin from interrupting before Edmund could get to the real point “Yet, as much I desire to assist Lord Berngard in casting off these hounds, I must preface that as you know, Royton is a prospering town, and it is not just the merchants of Berngard that keep it wealthy.”

Allowing the implication of what Edmund means to sink into the young retainer’s mind he turned around looking through the window in the sea, a move carefully considered as he audibly made a clicking sound with his tongue as though he was deep in thought. “The small witan are looking for any reason to cast me down from where I stand. They are… demanding I sign a contract with Myre. That I cannot ignore, I hope your lord understands.” A small white lie, Edmund shook his head, a small sigh sounding as, in another calculated move, he quickly perked up as if an idea had struck true.

“They do not, however, bar me from offering mercenary contracts to both parties, to a price determined by myself. In such a case, I…” he quickly calculated the costs within his head, turning around to give a strong, encouraging smile to his cousin “Despite the risks associated with it, I can offer 20 men vintenaries, consisting of 5 sergeants and 15 foot. I can also offer 10 man cavalry lances, made up of 9 standard horsemen led by a knight. Here…”

Edmund quickly scrounged up a piece of paper, before marking it with the costs and regiments before handing it to Sir Rock.

“The minimum contract length is a month, costs of a single vintenaries is 25 crowns, of a single lance is 45 crowns and 50 silver pieces. The responsibility of providing food will be placed upon the shoulders of the contractor, with expectations that the men be fed as suited to their equivalent partners under Lord Berngard. The costs also include potential reimbursement of both equipment and compensation to the deceased’s families, the men will be delivered as soon as possible with an official of Royton to collect the payment. The hired blades will not attack until the payment has been secured and delivered safely to Royton. I would ask that your lord deliver me his reply with how many vinternaries and lances he desires to employ and for how long and they will be there as soon as possible.”

Patting his cousin on the shoulder Edmund makes sure to look him in the eye, before softly adding on “You are a good retainer Varryn, and an even better man. I am sure that uncle would be proud to see the type of person you have become. Now go and make sure that Lord Berngard gets his men.”

Seeing his cousin leave, Edmund stuck his head out for a moment into the hallways of the Atwater manor, catching the sight of a servant, motioned them to come near him. “You servant, send for a messenger to come into my office, actually send 2, I have a need for them.” After the servant gave a quick nod and scurried away, Edmund went back onto his seat. Allowing himself to sink into the chair mindlessly for a second, let rest his mind after having to endure the thoughts of him having to deal yet again with more military ramblings. He turned towards the pile of empty parchment paper, before grabbing the one from the top, dipping his quill into the small jar of ink, and allowing the words to flow across the page.

“Lady Malcress Grannos,

It is good that I have been able to send you this message. I do hope the Paragon delivers your father, the honorable Lord Bomric and your brother to the eternal peace and paradise up above. I understand that those detestable and rotten Lords of Aldwyn and his allies wish to steal away your rightful demise, the fate of Myre now unknown to us all and there are whisperings that the Lords Mardas or Robert seek to place their own sires upon its seat. It is clear to me after the cravens of Yonbry have slithered away back to their holes and the men of Scarwin and Myre are fragmented, you are in need of men, good men, solid men, to help you reclaim what is yours.

The witan of Royton was in discussions with your father to supply his army with mercenaries and supplies, a deal that is fully prepared to be signed and enacted. Understand that this is a massive risk the men of Royton are undertaking, the city is surrounded by the lands of Aldwyn and his allies and any supposed favoritism would see to it that this prospering city is razed like what threatens Myre. So taking under consideration here is what is prices of men:

Royton offers 20 men vintenaries, consisting of 5 sergeants and 15 foot as well as offers 10 man cavalry lances, made up of 9 standard horsemen led by a knight. The responsibility of providing food will be placed upon the shoulders of the contractor, with expectations that the men be fed as suited to their equivalent partners. Taking into consideration potential risk, loss of equipment, men, and dues to the deceased’s family, for a minimum contract of one month, a vintenaries will cost 40 crowns, with a single lance being 85 crowns.

Remember, this is the difference between your birthright being within the hands of those that murdered your brother and nephew, and it being passed down to your children and their children. Do make sure to send your reply, including how many men you are willing to hire and for how long the contractual period, they will be deployed and supplied immediately with an official of Royton following suit in order to collect the agreed upon payment. The hired blades will not attack until the payment has been secured and delivered safely to Royton.

With well wishes and may the Paragon bless your rule,

Lord Mayor of Royton, Edmund Atwater”

Finishing his message, waiting for the ink to dry up before rolling it up and holding a candle above it, to let the wax melt landing upon the parchment, before pressing it with the seal of the Lord Mayor of Royton.

When the two messengers came, they looked at him, Edmund stood up before walking towards the both of them. Grabbing one of each messenger's hands, he shook them, saying in a happy tone “I am truly grateful that the Atwaters have such loyal men to deliver their messages. I need one of you to quickly and safely deliver this message to Lady Malcress Grannos of Midburgh. Go to the stables and grab two horses, say that the Lord Mayor ordered it and show the seal upon the message.”

The messenger on the left, a young looking boy, no older than nine and ten quickly nodded before grabbing hold of the letter and quickly darting out.

“As for you, this is a verbal message to be delivered and proclaimed by all heralds within Royton as well as privately to each Gildman and Aelder within the Royton lands. That in under 2 weeks time, the Lord Mayor Edmund Atwater, shall be hosting an auction for the latest mercenary contracts signed by Royton. May all those that desire to bid for the contract arrive in Royton and have their men prepared, there might be more than one contract to be won.”

The messenger repeated the message multiple times to himself with the help of the Lord Mayor before nodding and leaving the room. With that out of the way, and a splitting headache from dealing with something so exhausting, Edmund sat back down at his desk, staring out through the window, seeing the waves crash along the harbor, and the ships bobbing up and down, as the market still looked as vibrant and bright as ever.
 
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Albert MacEanruig
Kragwyn​
Albert listened to the lords and knight talk. It was something he was good at, listening. It was true what Sir Allister had said, there was only one knight he knew that had fought men equipped like a Carmondians and that was Robert. He knew that fact would rub knights like the scarlet clad knight wrong. These were men who thought with there honor and not there heads. No, they wouldn’t defeat Carmondy in a regular contest of arms. Edmund would bring his full strength to bear and there wasn't a lord in Frydos who would be able to resist that kind of force.

He sipped his mulled wine and thought some more as the liquid warmed his insides. Speed would be their advantage, clearing out the strongest holds of Carmondy in Frydos before Edmund could fully muster. If it meant letting the garrisons and castellans walk out with there arms, so be it. But none of it would work if they were too busy turning there swords on each other. To him, the war between Enguerrand and Mallick was a graver threat.

“Sir Allister is right my lords, we will need every able bodied man in Frydos if we hope to resist Edmund. I will raise my host and march south if it so pleases you, your grace,” Albert addressed the King directly, “Otherwise I will march were you command. Lord Murry, I can count on you to raise your host and march with me?” He would likewise be sending letters to his other lords that had not come Kragwyn to see the King.

Orders of Lord Albert:
Have his own levies raised and inspected as well as gather provisions for the army.
Send letters to the Lords of Mulfinnan and Daribrook to raise there own forces and join at Kragwyn.

​
 

Φ-Hᴏᴜsᴇ Gᴜʟᴀ-Φ
Sending an envoy to the king can be done, but with Lord Phillipe having driven out the Skerrymen and conquering the whole of the Flamebay, it will be much more difficult. The previous overlords around Dregwall, the Hothwolds, were more permissive of Fyrdians moving along their roads to cross the Godsbridge, but now vicious Oriflamme cavalry are said to be in that area. Borderlords of his ilk are likely to cause trouble... not to mention the royal patrols near the castle of Perling, which remains in Edmundian hands. This will necessitate any messengers having to go slightly out of the way to get around these obstacles, making for a crossing point at Eontach. A boat might then be taken to the king's castle, Kuldren, from the town of Aerchran... Master Gloroth has not noted any Flamebay ships, however. To save time, one could also send a small boat upriver from Urnmoth - one short enough to pass under the bridges along the way.

A messenger boy comes with hurried news one midmorning, hailing from the Vill. A merchant of Royton, Jacque Delanish, caught selling adulterated goods in the form of saffron mixed with marigold petals, and discovered to have been using coins of brass weighed by false scales, was ejected from the market by the town guard, and his home set upon by a mob pelting his roof and windows with rocks and all manner of filth when the news made the rounds. Several nobles whom this fraud had reportedly stolen from petition you to bring him to justice and have him pilloried, as the proceeds of his corrupt trade likely numbered in the scores of crowns, and made for a serious crime against the good people of your Lordship.

Meanwhile, his kinsmen, of which the Royton merchant had many of note in town, beg of you a more lenient treating of their relation, offering compensation to the victims, and going so far as to pursue prosecution of the ringleaders of the mob which attacked Delanish's house. Royton, the place from which Delanish originates, is a free city operating under its own charter, though still at the discretion of King Edmund - the only thing between yourself and it is the Isle of Skerry and the Berngard. The Atwaters, the family which have been Lords Mayoral of Royton for many several decades, have developed their city as a highly influential part of the trade network throughout the whole kingdom, and their agents could be found all across it. Danelanish is not some simple peddler of the finer things - he is a member of the guild there, and has no doubt many connections. The Roytons are less of a threat militarily, but their trade would be a valuable thing to lose, or have lessened.

The brewmaster in Careg, known as Myndar Brewster, is agreeable to your offer of employment, but expects a generous wage, and an advance of twelve crowns. He assures you the investment is worthwhile - with the new brewery and his adeptness, he shall brew the finest ale on this side of the Pale, and surely bring even greater notoriety to the inn than it already has.

Upon completing his shift at the gate, Sir Amyne Thalmyst retired to his abode. There he was met by his squire in tears, who gave him a letter. It is said that a masked and cloaked man had delivered it to him, and warned that should Sir Amyne not cooperate, their relations would be known to all of Gwyburgh. Promptly, Sir Amyne has begrudgingly promised to take your side in your future endeavors, and act alongside Sir Egton as an inside man.

"It is well and good to promise to make Tillenghurst the watch commandant, however, keeping this promise may not be feasible should Lord Grenn come and take the city as his own...it's unlikely he'd have such a man as the leader of his guards, unless he were to distinct himself during the uprising. Though, Tillgenhurst might not think of that," Kesmar muses.

Sir Pyllard shakes his head. "I have not yet met a captain raised from the common that is unlike the man you described. He is perfect for the role," he mutters.​
 
Philippe listens to the spirited debate by his half-interested counselors about what to do with the levy. The Lord Oriflamme stands up to speak, motioning for silence and then says "Honorable sirs, I commend you for your courage and sage advice alike. Truth be told, I had not expected our campaign in Skerry to go so well after our attempt at subterfuge failed. For the purpose of defending against any counterattack across the river did I raise the hue and cry. But after the overrunning of the Skerrymen made this unnecessary I then had the intention of laying siege to Scarwin's caput. Alas, due to the news of Lord Scarwins capture that door has been closed to us. So my decision is thus; we recall the levy however unsatisfactory it may feel, and we each retire to our manors and fiefs, new and old alike. Perhaps in time another opportunity may arise. And with that he returned to Rooster Keep, where his wife and children await.
 
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  • φ Aᴍɪᴀs III φ

    After the day is given up by your brother, you are brought away from the battle line and delivered to the baggage train of the High Lord's army. The stone-faced men-at-arms that had dragged you along are now replaced by some camp women that help you over to the doctor, while two whole knights are left behind to watch you. Numerous fighting men are beginning to return, some lightly rejoicing. Before you know it, your are swallowed into the heart of the army, with Darndonmen at all sides.

    Rather than trudging along on foot with the others, you are helped into a covered wagon, where your put-out eye is treated by the physician of Mallick. A servant holds you down as burning wine is poured against your dead eye, before it is examined and bandaged with several clean wrappings of linen.

    Hours pass. You are kept under guard during a victory parade in Darndon Town, and your mangled eye is splashed again with hot wine, rubbed with honey and rebandaged. There is fanfare as some of the townlings celebrate the return of their men.

    1695603407402.png
    Amias III's cell, Darndon

    You are brought to a tower in Darndon Town, where you are put into prison. Here, you are fed as well as given mulled wine - for to truly drink, rather than sip through the eye at the behest of the doctor. You are locked behind an oaken door in one of the tower's windowless bays as Cerham knights stand guard just outside. Within your holding cell there is a strawbed with an old pillow and a woollen blanket, a table and some stools, and a bench next to a tiny sally port; presumably where your food and drink will be delivered if you are not brought outside. Other than those things, there is a House Cerham banner on the wall.

    You are left to your own devices for several hours, before a knight enters. He has unkempt, golden hair, and only a light stubble. Over his segmented breastplate - which is covered in velvet, slashed between green and blue, he wears the badge of Cerham. If your memory still serves you from the peaceable times of days long past, this is Sir Traycon, youngest son of Mallick.

    1695677824069.png
    Sir Traycon Cerham

    "Hail,"     he greets, closing the door behind him. He's left his swordbelt outside. "Young Amias, I take it you wouldn't fancy staying in a single room for the whole of your stay with us. If you're amenable to some conditions that my lord-father sets forth, he will permit you a greater degree of liberty. There may be more for you to do than languishing in a cell, and occasionally meeting a doctor for your eye. Good, eh?" He pats your shoulder, and offers a smile. "Still, you must promise that, as a man of honour, you will not attempt escape until you are ransomed or paroled."
​

 
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Lord Amias
"No apology needed, Lord Declan. I understand your need to return home, and bid you good fare in your campaign in the Lethranland," Lord Amias would tell his father-in-law, upon his notification of him taking his leave. Little did Amias know that in the next days, he would receive word that he was now at war with his in-laws.

Along with a demand of eight-hundred gold pieces, Lord Cerham would send to Amias a message sealed with that royal seal of King Grenn. In it, there would be news of a host forming at Nelkirk in the High Lordship of Kragwyn to liberate the kingdom, and contained orders for Lord Amias to march on Malleyeth Castle, nearby Grandserry.

Amias would return the note to his king, informing him that he would not be able to march to join the host or assault Malleyeth immediately, as he must instead face his neighbors to the south. Thus, he would notify his king that he would begin an offensive into the Barony of Thorpe immediately. He would also mention worries that should he send his army east, he would leave his home vulnerable to attacks from the borderlords, specifically the royal soldiers from Crown Coppe. In addition he would, respectfully, bid his liegelord to have a plan in mind to tie up the Edmundian troops stationed there, if he hasn't one already, besides gambling that they will be sent away in reaction to other offensives. Otherwise, Lord Enguerrand would humbly suggest that he be redirected by his most wise king to make war there instead, citing his powerful navy as an advantage against that coastal castle, one which he'd be unable to bring to bear against that of Malleyeth.

Lord Amias would also negotiate with High Lord Cerham for the release of his son. He would counter-offer six-hundred and fifty gold pieces, and suggest that Mallick could make up for his lost two-hundred gold by enlisting workers from Holmfirth or Sherfieldton, or perhaps negotiating short contracts of sword-service with some of Lord Amias' own knights or retainers.

Finally, Lord Amias would make his demands of Lord Tobin.

"My beloved lord...I write to you in great grief to inform you that our kingdoms are now at war. As such, I must demand that you renounce your fealty to your boy King, and pledge it to my own. Otherwise, I will have no other choice but to attack you, and it would pain me very much to do so. If this is the path you choose, let us meet just south of my township of Sherfieldville a few days from today, so that we may have a proper and honorable battle - one that we lacked at Shepbrook. I hope you will leave Couryonne unmolested during your march, and as such, you shan't be attacked while fording the river. To avoid unnecessary bloodshed, I suggest that we may settle said battle with either a single combat between our chosen champions, or a dance of lance between our most well-trained and armored soldiers. I bid you good health, milord, and hereby renounce my fealty to you, and relinquish my title as Lord-Steward of Porthaewidge. Let it be known, that despite what may come, I love you as if you and your Marshal were my kin, and should I triumph over you I will treat you with the utmost dignity that you deserve, accepting only a paltry sum for your conditional release, as I know you would do the same should I be forced to capitulate. I hope that your choice will be not to fight. Paragon bless you, and damn these circumstances which have brought us to odds."

Amias had specifically omitted that the suggested dance of lance would be between chivalry only, and thus, would spend a fortune of three-hundred crowns outfitting as many sergeants as possible as sergeants-at-arms, in order to bolster his numbers in the cavalry duel, if this were what Lord Thorpe wished for, which Amias found most likely. Should he receive a missive asking for either a single combat, the cavalry skirmish, or a full battle, whatever way, Amias would immediately march the required forces to the designated battlefield just south of his township to meet his former ally.

Later, Amias would meet with his steward, Tonis. "I am considering preventing or limiting our people's trade with the Carmons, though I need know first whether or not this would be a bigger blow to us than to them. As I understand, we are a key player in the local trades of foodstuffs, exotic goods from Carmondy of course, and other such, though we undoubtedly import much of our metals and so forth from our foe, along with many items of luxury, I'd presume. Do you have this knowledge at hand?"

Amias III
"Your brother would have everyone in the kingdom die, it seems," Lord Mallick had said, before taking a knife and removing Sir Amias' left eye. The Darndonlord had been kind enough to do it quickly, but the shock of the loss struck Amias still. He would shriek in terror and pain as Lord Mallick maimed him wriggling in the much bigger man's grip.

It had seemed negotiations with his brother had went poorly. The knight who had gone to speak with his brother had returned swiftly, and as he had relayed Sir Amias' demands to Lord Mallick, Young Amias' lips curled in disgust at his brother's rhetoric. How could his brother threaten such a horrible thing? The young boy was so shocked, that for a few moments he altogether forgot that he was being held at knifepoint by these people. That's how his brother could threaten it. However, that hadn't been enough for Lord Mallick, who had promptly taken Amias' eye out after receiving those threats.

It was as if Young Amias' scream of agony as his eye was taken out was the sounding trumpet which sent the army of Sherfield into a retreat. The last thing Young Amias managed to see of his people through his remaining eye, before being brought further behind the battle lines of the battle which had been suddenly ended, was their turning of tail.

Young Amias was treated both with care and with harshness in the next few hours. With care by the doctors he was brought to at Mallick's nearby camp, and with taunts and cheers at his imprisonment by the Darndonmen. Amias thought that the camp was crowded when he'd arrived - he was soon corrected once all of Cerham's ranks had been stood down, assumingly the opposing army had completed its withdrawal across Rayner's Crossing. He soon saw that the initial presence of Cerham's soldiers was dwarfed by the several hundred which appeared after being called to quarters.

Not long after his short stay at Mallick's war camp, the army moved out to return home and escort their prisoners away, most importantly, Young Amias himself. Lord Mallick was not ignorant of Amias III's status, and afforded him to ride in a covered wagon during the short journey, during which he was treated by Mallick's own physician, a renowned medical scholar named Finnard Gunthre. He had, for a brief time during the interwar period of the Fyrdian and Valcayan invasions, served at Grenn's father's court. Now here he was, riding in a covered wagon on the hillish plains of the Lowlands, treating a scion of House Enguerrand at the behest of High Lord Mallick. Finnard was a journeyed man indeed. While being treated, Young Amias asked Finnard, quite dubiously, if he'd ever see out of his left eye again. "And what do you think the answer would be, child?" The two shared no further discussion.

After the carriage ride to Cerham Keep with Finnard, Young Amias was immediately imprisoned. His cell was dark and dank, but didn't lack necessities. As his first hours dragged on in his boring, horribly drab cell, he began to dread his stay here. This place sucked.

However, all hope had not yet been lost, he soon learned, as Sir Traycon, son of Lord Mallick, entered the small cell. He entered with a polite smile, and Young Amias noticed he had also come in disarmed. Due greetings aside, Sir Traycon had come to offer Young Amias 'further liberties' and a nicer place to take his involuntary stay in his father's rival's custody. Young Amias smiled meekly up at the tall knight as the man offered him a toothier grin, and placed his big, clawing hand on the lordling's shoulder. Young Amias did his best to hide his excitement at Traycon's offer as he replied.

"Certaintly, Sir Traycon. I give you my word I shall not make any attempts to escape you, and would appreciate some more generous hospitality on your behalf. Thank you, milord."
​
 
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Several riders approached the western hinterlands of Ramscrest from the direction of Bronsfield. At the head was Robert, accompanied by several men, including Lord Philip, Lord Volstaff, Sir Darrian Aldwyn, Sir Maychard Saylor and various other men serving as bodyguards. Arriving at the designated spot, Robert awaited the arrival of the Lady Regent. His plan was simple. He would remind the Lady of her precarious situation not only within the Barony, but from outside as well with Lord Scarthon clearly willing to switch sides at a chance of gaining something out of this conflict. If she wished to see the Barony survive the coming months, then she would have to yield.

From Ramsville, a similarly-sized party of Myremen rode out to treat with the would-be besiegers. Lady Sheila, a rather gaunt woman, wore a black dress as she sat sidesaddle upon a spotted grey palfrey. "Hail," she greets somberly. A valot helps her from the horse as two men-at-arms in plain full mail dismount, handing the reins of their steeds to their own valots as they keep their swords sheathed, falling in as they stands at the flanks of their lady. "I did enjoy our despatches with one another, my lord. I pray we can get this over with more quickly, out in the fresh air." The widow smiles at you.

"My Lady, I do wish we met under different circumstances, the Paragon knows." Robert replied. "Alas, it was not meant to be." "As for your offer, I am willing to agree to an additional 200 crowns and exclude Maudlin. I am not Edmund nor care if you have a licence to crenellate, but to source stone from Scarwin lands is a matter that concerns you and the Baron, not I."

"This seems acceptable to me," she sighs. "Though, in truth, I wonder if attempting to soften the concessions I pay now will truly matter in the long run. You see, Bomric sent some men from Myre across the river, and stealthily through the great forest beyond. They camped in the Midland Mountains above the burgh of the Melghans, and received reports from one of my husband's spies. One may have foreseen this, what with all the chaos that has stricken the northlands - but anyhow, I fear that Fyrdos is turning against us, and quickly. Grannos may come to press his claim to these lands along with all the rabble of his kingdom alongside him." The Lady seemed to view her daughter's claim as merely Grannos's claim, for which she seemed to have a rather lower affection for... Perhaps their betrothal was a point of contention between her and Bomric. "I digress. I understand that I am old forage, and I ought to spend more time mourning poor Bomric, but I think I must remarry soon. I would see Myre not fall to foreign rebellion... and the prospect of building a castle quickly, especially without a guarantee of stone, makes me quite afraid. Tell me true, Robert. Was it that Bastard of Haldrup who killed my son, or was it you?"

Robert was stunned for a moment as he heard of the Lady's claims. "Your men believe that King Grenn marches against King Edmund as we speak? This... is grave new indeed. The Fyrdians have always been uncouth upstarts but to think that they set their eyes upon rightful Carmon lands. Perhaps, we can think of a fitting agreement to ensure we can fortify Myre. But, I digress, in regards to Sir Cortyn, in the chaos of battle, I was indeed there when Sir Cortyn slew my cousin. I was engaged in a dangerous duel with Sir Cortyn to avenge my cousin, which ended when the Bastard of Haldrup opportunistically struck Sir Cortyn from behind while he was in a fierce melee with me and left mortally wounded. My physicians attempted to save him, but when it was obvious that all attempts would be in vain... I delivered a final mercy so that the Paragon may guide him. If it will please the Lady, then tell all that Sir Cortyn died valiantly while in direct combat with the Baron of Berngard, for it is undeniable that he was a warrior of great ability and not even the Paragon would judge anyone a liar for saying those exact words."

The mother's face contorted into a somber grimace as the details of her son's demise reached her ears. "Ah... My apologies, for your cousin's death. I had always told Cort that I would see him use his opposite hand for a shield, rather than be put to the hilt of that great beast of a weapon." Doubtless, she'd heard the tale of the mighty cleaving that Cortyn had dealt to Gautham, rending helm and mail and flesh. Her eyes narrowed at the mention of the blow from behind by the Bastard, but she bore no malice to Robert over his coup de grace. "It was a most dreadful battle. I was on horseback as I watched with the few men I had from afar - I could hear the death rattle of men and horses, and see Bronsfield turn from green to red. Still, despite what you and I have lost, this small scrimmage shall be nothing compared to the war that is to come. Houses sparring with one another is one thing, but this shall be a clash of kingdoms. Myre Town has but a palisade, so I would prefer not to relocate there - if you would have me in your affinity, my lord. That, or perhaps the ability to retain my quarters and a few of the nonfighting servants I have within Ramscrest, while still transferring the castellany to you."

Robert's face grimaced as he considered the Lady Regent's words. "I must profess. I find it odd that the late Lord was willing to hand his daughter in marriage in one hand, but plant spies in his demense in the other. Regardless, if war is indeed coming, then there is much to do. Lady Malcress, as my soon to be Mother-in-Law, you are welcome to join my court. I suspect most of the men of Myre would rather serve you than Lord Grannos. Tell me, my Lady, what do you believe is the best course of action for yourself and what is your idealized future for the Barony of Myre?"

"All this was done at the request of the late Agbert. You know how permissive he was to those Fyrdians," she says. "Which is to say, 'not at all'. You must understand that I protested against this... I myself send men to skulk about Midburgh as little as I can, as I have no idea whether that brute Melghan will punish my daughter for it. Yet, to confirm whether a war was brewing was absolutely necessary - now we know Tharon Turncoat aims to march." The widow thought about Robert's last question. "I would have Myre protected from the marauders the lie plotting just north of the river. Though we have... kept in shape by fighting one another, I would still rather align with my own countrymen. Perhaps the lord that took my hand couldn't declare themselves Baron of Myre... but Protector of Myre." From Fyrdos, presumably.

Robert nodded and replied "The Barony of Myre owns the bridge east of Crown Coppe. It would be difficult for an army to cross the river without many ships or a secure bridge." He advised. "It may be prudent to secure the bridge, and if that is not possible, then ensuring its collapse would throw a wrench into many plans. Regardless, we must all take steps to prepare for an invaison from the north. If we could also secure the bridge crossing to the northwest of Oading... then it would be a logistical nightmare to march to Myre."

Lady Sheil sighed, but returned the nod. She went about looking over her shoulder at Ramscrest, before she shifted her gaze back to Robert. "I suppose we should strike our banners, now. Congratulations on your victory, Robert. Ensure that brother of yours treats my Maudlin well. Also, a final request - when the garrison yields, I ask that all the men be allowed safe passage to Myre, rather than be put into irons," the noblewoman asked of you.

Robert replied "Very well, they may march with their colors to Myre. However, I must ask that Lady Maudlin join my court until she is wedded to Louis once he is of maritable age in the eyes of the Paragon and he is of age to become the masters of Masserly and Aldheed. Though... she would likely be safer in my court than at Myre given the covetous High Lord Grannos and your recent discoveries. You have my word that my brother is no boar nor will she be mistreated in my court."

Malcress nods her head. She holds out her hand, and one of her soldiers passes her an iron keyring, which she then gives to you. "We will be gone by morning. Maudlin shall come to you at dawn." With that, unless there were further inquiries, the Myre party rode back to Ramscrest. It is surrendered the next morning.

---
Robert sat in the great hall of Ramscrest as he awaited for the arrival of his guest, the Baron of Scarwin, who had been under Robert's protection since the Battle of Bronsfield a few weeks ago. Once the Baron arrived, Robert would speak "Welcome, Lord. I appreciated your concerns about our ability to siege the walls of Ramscrest and Swanton Keep. However, as you can see, our abilities were plenty thanks to the graces of the Paragon. I am no longer in need of your assistance in this feud with the Barony of Myre. Now, let us speak of reparations for your part in the unlawful attacks against the Barony of Swanton and Aldwyn so that you may return to your home and family."

The Baron nods. "My Lord," he bows with some disguised bitterness. "It pains me that I could not be of service. What would you ask of me instead? I shall... Make it up to you."


"My Lord, I have a question for you. What do you think of Fyrdians? Would you ever consider marrying off your sons or daughters to a Fyrdian lord?" Robert inquired.


"Well, my Lord, why do you think Scarwin Keep was built across the river from Midburgh for? We regard them with suspicion, as many in the Northlands are wont to do. But I am not so foolish as to believe they aren't from the same stock as us. All of Boldica sprouted from the heart of Valcay, as you know. What are you proposing?"

Robert smiled and said "The Fyrdians are assembling a mighty army in Midburgh as we speak. What we feared the most is coming to pass and we have little time to prepare. The Royal Army is far south. King Grenn marches with his clansmen. Now is the time a man is worth his word as his loyalties are tested. Now Lord, what do you believe us border lords are to do in our situation when the storm threatens to consume us all?" (edited)

"I beg your pardon, my Lord, but it appears I have already been consumed by the rain. I suppose - if you plan on acting akin to myself at the moment - you are planning to... Appease King Grenn? I do not entirely follow," Wernick says. He scratches the back of his head. "If you mean to fight him, then you will find that Scarwin Keep is a pivotal fortress. It is the gateway to Carmondy on this side of Northmyre Forest."

"Indeed, Scarwin Keep is a crucial fortress that guards Carmondy. Yet, you tell me that you would appease King Grenn and pray to the Paragon that he show you mercy. Pray tell, why would King Grenn trust a Carmon lord to hold such a crucial castle? He would be a fool to do so. Nay, he would first sweep the entire region of anyone who directly opposes him and then turn around to consolidate power and pick off isolated lords who are of questionable loyalty and trustworthiness. He would appoint a new Fyrdian Baron of Scarwin that he personally trusts to hold this drawbridge into the Borderlands. Now, I ask you, Lord Wernick, what do you think is your best course of action to survive this storm that threatens to drown you and everything you

"You're right, my Lord. He wouldn't have me anywhere near my own home, if he had control of it." Wernick takes some time to further consider your words. "Well, I'll start storing foodstuffs for the next siege. The Baron of Flamebay spurned my messenger - Sir Tremwin, I believe - when I sent him to make alliance with the Oriflammes. This was during... ahh, the earlier, drastic misstep that was the war between your people and mine own. Anyway - in spite of that, he is still no friend of the Fyrd. He will soak up some of the punishment, no doubt. Still, defences will need to be reinforced." He takes a ponderous sip of wine. "So, I gatekeep my noble country from the Fyrds, and hopefully I shall be able to secure lands that aren't abreast with my mountain home. The opportunity for gallantry will present itself."

"Gatekeep Carmondy from the hordes of Frydian and Gaedish reavers numbering in the tens of thousands... Quite an idealistic hope that opportunity will present itself, Lord Wernick. Allow me propose to you something beyond mere hope and ideals, something a bit more tangible. Woe be the day I see Frydian lords take rightfully Carmon land. Thus, I offer some leniency for your... recent indiscretions.

Cede everything east of Geldred as we discussed before (Wegford to Mardas, Judsham to Swanton/Son of the Steward, etc.). Those fiefs are already forfeit if your plan was to remain a bastion in your mountain fort in the face of the Frydians. In addition, cede the village west of Scarwin Keep and quarry rights in its hinterlands along with 300 crowns.

In exchange, I will release you and consider this feud over. I will take Ethund into my court as my ward and guest. I will not remove Lord Bentley (after he pays his ransom) and Lord Darthon as Lords of their respective fiefs out of respect to your personal friendship with them. Finally, I will release any Scarwin man who could not afford to pay their ransom from the Battle of Bronsfield.

I also propose a coalition against the Fyrdian aggression consisting of the Baronies of Berngard, Aldwyn, Swanton, Scarwin, Dripwood and Myre. Together we can raise a sizeable army that can oppose the Frydian hordes and hold them at the other side of the river. We can even threaten the Fyrdian holdings in Midburgh, which you would naturally benefit the most from given your land's proximity."

---

From the keep of Ramscrest, Robert wrote a flurry of missives to various neighbors. The news of the Fyrdian armies mobilizing and gathering were truly an alarming prospect. Plus, he had been getting messengers as of late with various concerns addressed to him. It seemed that his victory at Bronsfield drew attention. One such letter was from the Baron of Flamebay. It appeared that he sought an alliance through the marriage of his sister to Robert. However, given the current circumstances, Robert could not agree to such an offer. To accept such an offer was to recognize that the betrothal of Robert to Erwelia was illegitimate. Nay, Robert would not give up a princess' dowry that easily. However, the north lands were clearly becoming a tinderbox, ready to ignite in a giant war at any moment.

"To the illustrious Lord Oriflamme,

I write to you to provide a personal response to your marriage offer. While I am tempted by the offer, I must confess that, at this time, I am unable to disregard my betrothal to Princess Erwelia and commit a great sin in the eyes of the Paragon by agreeing to marry someone else. No matter what King Edmund may think, his father had sworn to my father that she and I were to be wedded due to the great services and loyalty that my father showed in the campaigns in Valcay. I will not throw away the years of work and blood that my father shed for this marriage to occur.

However, I do bare some news. I have recently learned that a great host is being assembled. I believe we are on the eve of a major invasion of Carmondy by the Frydian hordes who jealously eye our rightful lands. They have begun to mobilize and plot against us. Thus, I invite you to join a grand coalition consisting of the Baronies of Berngard, Myre, Aldwyn, Swanton, Dripwood, and Scarwin. Together, we can raise a formidable army that will give the Fydrians pause and sow fear in their hearts. I extend this offer to your Uncle, the Archabbot of Trambley as well. Our ancestors fought for centuries to be able to call these lands our own. I will not stand idle and watch my lands be pillaged by the Frydian rabbles. I know that a man like yourself would not permit the Frydians to take what you and your forefathers worked so hard to build.

Lord Robert of Berngard"

In addition, to his letter to Flamebay, Robert wrote messages to be sent to Crown Coppe, Gwyburgh, Flamebay, Swanton, Dripwood, Berngard and Wesgrath to inform the lords of recent events in the area and the Lady Regent's discovery and intelligence operations in Midburgh. In particular, he also requested that the Barons of Swanton and Aldwyn come join him in Ramscrest to discuss how to proceed given the new information of the coming Frydian rebellion and how to deal with the remaining Rebel Lord, the Baron of Yonbry.

Suddenly, a knock was heard on his door. "Enter." Robert simply spoke out loud. The door opened and entered John, Robert's younger male cousin, who bowed as he entered "My Lord, you summoned me?" Robert nodded and said "Yes, John. I welcome you back to Berngard. I heard that your venture was not as successful as hoped, but I am still glad that you returned safely. It must have been a shock to hear about the war when you first landed in Berngard. Still, in these times, I need the skills of talented men and most importantly... I need people I can trust." John bowwed his head and said "I am at your service, my Lord." Robert nodded and replied "Good, I need you to take this letter and bring it to Gwyburgh. You are to present it to Lord Qayne and Sir Marth. While there, I trust that you will act in the best interests of the Barony of Berngard and our family while remaining at the service of Lord Qayne if he is in need of anything. War is coming... and those ready to take opportunities will prosper."

---

In the great hall of Ramscrest, Robert stood at the dais with the Lords and Ladies of his court in attendence. Before Robert were various people of note who bowed before him. Among them were the Lords of Bronsfield and Oading who were now paying hommage to Robert due to his graciousness in letting them retain their feoffment of what were now lands of Berngard. Another notable was Sir Mathigon Gofre, the household knight who had captured the Baron of Scarwin and had now been enfeoffed the large hamlet north of Oading and was its Master. Among the last of the men paying hommage to Robert though was still a very notable man, the Bastard of Haldrup, who had been invited to join Robert's retinue as a household knight. As the ceremony began to wrap up, Robert made a simple, but meaningful statement for all to hear through the land "Let all men know that loyalty, skill and valor have a place here in the Barony of Berngard. No matter if one is Valcayan or a Skerryman, I, Lord Robert de Cherbourg, welcome you to my court."

---


Summary:

Peace made with Myre and Scarwin with various ransoms, crowns and land being ceded to the victorious coalition.

Letters sent to Crown Coppe, Gwyburgh (John du Cherbourg will personally go to present), Flamebay, Swanton, Dripwood, and Wesgrath to warn the respective Lords of the coming storm.

Missives are sent out seeking men and wandering knights willing to serve the Barony of Berngard.

Various men are appointed new fiefs, knighted and pay hommage to Robert.
 
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IMG_3671.png
Dierdre de Oriflamme
The Baroness of Flamebay​

Lorsh Lorsh MrThe MrThe
The day had been well made for busywork. The morning was spent in good company: in place of her husband, she had allowed the provisioning of an entourage from Pontyprwyn a few days before, whose gentlewoman had come to see her with her youngest. The girl was no younger than twelve; her mother kept her held tightly as her seventh and likely last child. Dierdre knew that her husband hadn’t the heart to leave the woman without a child upon which to dote, because of her incompatibility to solitude, so the baroness left the topic of marriage to curdle on her lips as sour as milk though the gentlewoman would not reproach her. They spent the better part of this morning in idle gossip; Isabel and the girl spoke of their future desire in soft voices as maidens should, and both worked with Édith on weaving (a skill that Dierdre did not well possess).

But there was another matter that spurred her hospitality, and the gowns she provided both the gentlewoman and her daughter, one somewhat complicated by the message of her husband’s success that preceded his homecoming. Having provided the women with their gifts upon their arrival– and having therefore fulfilled her obligations for her service– the baroness produced another folded garment. Of wool finely dyed strand-by-strand and felted, the cloak was a deep brown, nearly black but with a sort of golden thread shimmering intermittently within it that seemed to soften its darkness. It was cut at the back and front, and along the sides, allowing its wearer to ride while still pinning it shut. Inside, the same brocade she had worked into some six evening dresses lined its collar, now only faintly shining a sheen of red and gold.

This was not a duty she spoke of to any other soul than the woman who came to visit her. A letter, addressed to her closest brother, was folded into its body. This too was wrapped in a belt of fine wool: the jewel of the country, to be certain. Deirdre did not have reason to doubt the woman’s loyalty, and no reason to fear her husband’s knowledge of her communication, if not for part of its content. Still, she did not tell her that a second letter lay nestled in the cloak. Thallia may well have known, if not for her deep grief, but Dierdre had bid her to rest in the face of her distress. The letter’s content was as follows:


My dearest brother,

I have been compelled to write again, for fear my last messenger did not reach you, and in light of the esteem your company has earned in Shepbrook. It gives me great pleasure to hear no news of your health. While I might not speak of the aims of your conflict, I am glad to hear that you are safe, strong, and well.

My boys, too, grow stronger by the day. You know that Olivier still serves in Sunwick—I pray the two of you should never meet in strife—but, in my last letter, I sent news of Aurélien’s station as a page in Wesgrath. If only you could meet him!

The position of Fabien has come now to concern me. We both know he stands to inherit nothing from my husband: an apprenticeship would do little to help him in this country except to join our cavalry. I would selfishly see him learn from you, though positioning him so would make me a most unfaithful wife, and risk your life. Know you would be my first choice in a time of peace. As things are, I may be forced to send him abroad.

I must ask you, again and eternally, to pass on the throes of my heart to our father.

Yours always,
Dierdre

The contents of the second letter were much the same, except it spoke naught of her father and youngest son, and she passed this freely to her visitor to keep in her writing-bag. Both letter and parcel would be passed on closer to the border to a messenger who might try to find Tray, or, failing that, to deliver both to her original home.

This is not to say that Dierdre thought poorly of her husband’s return. In fact, she had dearly missed him as she tended to when he was departed, and worried for his safety in the face of war. Besides, Philippe’s absence ensured that she was always busy, picking up both his maintenance of the keep while maintaining her own duties to their small court and the household besides. This desire to see her husband led her to see the five-horse convoy from the gates near the stable, unconventionally, but the gentlewoman’s great affection for the baroness waylaid the party until Phillippe was very near.

There were several things for the two to talk about. Thallia’s grief would likely necessitate some distraction; travel was the enemy of melancholy but also difficult in such times. While it would not do to disrupt her mourning, Deidre feared her loss. Now, though, she firmly retreated from the slowly-moving retinue to retrieve her mount. A murmur of her husband’s return had begun to spread and she knew that he had been spotted up the road already from some layman passing his baron at rest. The convoy afore her would see the road clear, at least to the knoll that began to obscure sightlines from the keep.

The speckled palfrey was unsettled, but then, the mare had not been ridden by its rider for at least a few weeks. She spoke softly to the horse as a groom adjusted its saddle and was helped up onto its back. Little prevented her from walking the animal out the gate, though certainly she would be questioned by one with the rank to do so had she been seen riding alone. Truthfully, she almost never rode without accompaniment. She did not stray far from the keep, but instead walked her horse to the top of the knoll, stopping the palfrey at its peak to watch up the road. She had no fear for her children: Isabelle still entertained Édith, she knew, and she had glimpsed Fabien playing in the courtyard when she’d left.

Location Outside the gates of Rooster Keep on her palfrey.

 
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  • φ Lᴏʀᴅsʜɪᴘ ᴏғ Sʜᴇʀғɪᴇʟᴅ φ

    Your ultimatum to your inlaws and their overlord is returned. Lord Tobin offers a truce, not wanting to tie himself up in a war with his own allies.

    1698110903082.png


    The High Lord Mallick informs you that Amias III can be released in a few months for the sum of six-hundred and fifty gold (in Autumn), but states that Amias III will be released immediately if a payment of eight-hundred gold is made, as he previously requested.

    Sir Tonis considers your proposal. "Stop trading with the whole of Carmondy?" he asks after a few moments, shaking his head. "Your pardon, my Lord - perhaps a more measured approach is in order. Indeed, war looms, but let us not forget that Carmondy is not a singular entity, and their realm, like ours, has factions with diverse interests. The merchants and travellers who come to our lands can be valuable sources of information about the enemy's internal strife and intentions, though as always, this can be a double-edged sword."

    The steward takes a sip of wine, and curses when he spills a few drops on his quilted doublet. "Ah - instead of a blanket ban on Carmondian trade, we should instead carefully choose whom we deal with in Carmondy. We have long-standing partnerships with certain merchants and noble houses that have proven themselves to be trustworthy. We could continue to trade with them, while suspending dealings with hostile parties."

​
 
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Count Ricardi Gula.jpg​
The reports came in while Lord Gula was enjoying another of his excessive meals. His fat fingers picking at meats and pastries as he listened, seeming distracted when most knew he was processing the matters coming to him. Complications were a part of life, doubly so since the loss of his family's greater holdings in the city. There was a greedy part of him that wanted it for himself, but knew that the King would be requiring a suitable capital to reign from. It was just as well he intended to rule from behind the throne anyways. Better to seem a loyal patriot and servant than an usurper.

"Dispatch a boat from Urnmoth then. Better we have some speed while avoiding suspicion. We're trying to resolve these trade matters anyways. It'll just look like I'm shoring up my chances if we make it look like an inquiry for such things along the way," Lord Gula ordered as he drinks deeply from a goblet of wine.

The issue of the merchant scoundrel irked him greatly as he considered it in silence. He could not afford for Royton to damage what trade he had, needing the funds for his plans. Perhaps they still might do so when the rebellion broke out. Then again, they might turn to smuggling for him since their guild was so willing to employ those who were willing to defraud nobles. He elected to humor the Royton requests while playing it up as a desire to maintain a stable relation for all to allow the flow off trade and profit for his fellow nobles and craftsmen. The ringleaders would be punished, but nothing too permanent so as to not cost him too much loss of loyalty. A discreet inquiry would be sent on exploring the continuation of trade should matters in his homeland boil over. Played up as a the fear of a greedy noble trying to maintain his comforts and not the mastermind of said rebellion he had in the works.

Not one to be taken for a ride, Lord Gula will provide the advance along with one of his agents who can and will remind the Brewmaster this is a loan and should he fail to keep his word, his life will be forfeit. Said agent will then keep tabs on the Brewmaster and resolve issues should they prove to be trying to play games with Lord Gula. A violent example will be made of him if need be. Brutality was required at times. In the meantime, any loved ones of the Brewmaster would be located and judged on value. Their extraction back to to Lord Gula's hold would then be carried out as collateral for the advance as a reminder that the Gulas were not fools.

Lord Gula is pleased by the news of his new recruitment and makes it a point to ensure the knight and squire are made comfortable, partially to show his gratitude but also to easily incriminate them should Lord Gula be betrayed. If he was going down, he would destroy the man's life no matter what.

"This issue has already been planned for. We must have Tillengurst on our side. If he does his job well, we shall make a case should the King chose to relocate here. If not, Tillengurst will die at the blade of some whore or other night person. A man like him will have some vice to die from. We will help him along that road if it become necessary to clear the board for someone of better breeding, but actual competence. This city is MINE, no matter whose head the crown sits upon. Make a list of potential replacements should Tillengurst have to shuffle off to the next life."​
 
A response from Baron Thorpe came early the next morning - Amias had dispatched in the last evening - which came as quite a surprise. Lord Amias had steeled himself to the notion that he would have to fight his allied houses for the sake of his king, but instead learned there was no need. Baron Thorpe had not yet pledged fealty to King Edmund, the young king having only ascended to the throne less than a year ago. He had even missed the funeral of the late King Agbert. Instead, Tobin sought peace with Amias, despite the larger war soon to rage around them. Of course, Amias also sought peace, but he wanted to see if he could make something of it besides an immediately safe borderground.

My Lord Thorpe,
My good lord, I had somehow entirely forgone to learn that you had yet to pledge allegiance to King Edmund, and apologize for my ignorance. Should you not be interested in the rest of this letter, then let I say now, I accept your offer of peace, to live and to let live for the foreseeable future. You are my brothers-in-arms, after all. However, if you share the wish to align our armies once again, I could spare some hundred or two men of foot and a smaller contingent of mailedmen to attach to your army's offensive into the Lethran lands and could be moved to begin constructing siege engines at my expense for the purpose of taking Lethran Keep, should it please you.

However, in return for my aid, I would expect you to turn your attentions to your rivals to the south, the Doyles, after the fight with the robberlord. This is an effort I would support even further, and would undoubtedly be quite profitable for the both of us, for you more than I. Liberating and pressing the peoples of the bandit land neighboring you will surely provide ample replenishment of your ranks to allow for such an offensive.

I would not fear much retribution from parties further south, particularly any Edmundian army...there will be much greater matters across our Kingdoms for them to attend to, I assure you.
-Lord Amias.

Some day later, Lord Amias received a reply from his liege. Amias had been ordered to attack Malleyeth, but had instead petitioned to be directed against the large castellany and its' attendant lands along the Northlands River, less than a day's march from Sherfieldton itself, known as Crown Coppe. In his letter back, the king of Fyrdos was swayed to allow Lord Amias and his navy to attack Crown Coppe. He wouldn't say much about Lord Amias' inability to march to that objective straight away, due to the need to deal with the Thorpsemen - though, by the time he had exchanged letters with his king he'd already done so with his neighbor, freeing the most of the Army of Sherfield of their need to remain garrisoned due to treaty.

During these exchanges of letters with the Baron Thorpe and King of Fyrds, Lord Mallick would entertain Lord Amias' attempts to negotiate his second son's early release. He'd demanded that the full ransom be paid for an immediate release of Young Amias, while he would accept a lesser sum for his release in two and a half months' time. Due to these demands, Lord Amias would stay his quill in an immediate response, and instead send a missive to Grandserry, to his king, once again.

Lord Amias would continue to exchange letters with his liege...

As well, Amias would inform King Grenn that he had brokered an uneasy peace with his southron competitor. Baron Thorpe had not been keen on pledging fealty to Grenn, though had assured Amias he had not pledged it to Edmund neither, and thus the Barony of Thorpe has no true king now and the Baron only seeks to defend his lands. Thus, Lord Amias explains he agreed to a pact of non-aggresion with the Baron, though cannot say that he had attacked him or taken his land as Amias may have implied in his first correspondence. On the backend of his report, Amias would promise a force of close to, but less than, a thousand to march to war in Grenn's name in the coming days, though perhaps not in major campaigns if Young Amias was not released...

...Pertaining to his release, finally, and this letter was getting lengthy now and beginning to look like a petition - Amias wrote it over the course of a full day - Lord Amias would provide a brief summary of events at Shepbrook from his point of view and transcript the negotiations between himself and Lord Cerham for the release of his son. Lord Amias asks that the King suggest to Cerham that Young Amias could be released sooner for the lesser price of six-hundred gold, which Mallick will only accept now if Young Amias is imprisoned for the entire season. Lord Amias complained that he will need much gold for the war effort, as he plans to build several ships and siege engines, but he will be hindered quite much if made to pay the heavier ransom of nine-hundred gold. Leaving Young Amias imprisoned was not an option, and, Lord Amias wrote, if the boy wasn't released he would not send his forces to fight alongside Mallick's, no matter where it was in the realm.

The correspondence had turned sour. The King chastises Amias for his role in the war with Darndonland, as well as for having invited Thorpe knights into the realm. It was a war fought on Amias own volition, he says. He demanded that his vassal will do his duty, and deal with the consequences of his feud separately. It is the King's opinion that, as someone who waged war on his lands, Mallick was within his rights to demand a hostage from Amias' house, even more so because the prisoner had been taken in battle, instead of being taken into custody after siege or abducted. Tharon claims that it was his temperance that stopped Mallick from slaughtering Sir Amias's host to a man, as he needed Sherfield men to fight for him.

Lord Amias would reply swiftly with a brief acknowledgement of the King's words and stating his own opinion that the skirmish by Shepbrook was precipitated by provocations from both sides, citing the attempted murder of Sir Morran at Freyk. At the end of this much shorter letter, Amias would offer apologies for the trouble he had inadvertently caused his King.


Amias would carefully scribe a letter back to High Lord Cerham, countering yet again in negotiations for the release of his son. The exchange of letters had gone on several days now, Lord Amias hoped his son was doing alright, all things considered - Lord Mallick had not been as quick to return messages as Amias was, who was eager to get his son back, but not at just any cost quite yet. Sure, Amias could be coerced into forfeiting a small fortune for his second son's release, but he would avoid it if possible.[/FONT]

"Milord, I have but a little cache of coinage now - the collecting of my lands' dues was interrupted by our short war. However, my harvest has been more than sufficient, and I should be more than happy to provide for your people in the hard times to come, as I know my men have wreaked some havoc in your lands, for which I apologize. Should it please you, I invite any of your heralds to come and assess my goods, and perhaps come to some deal that will not make a pauper of me."

After these many matters had been addressed, Lord Amias convened a war council which he had planned the day prior, for which most of if not all of his knights, vassals and advisors would be present. Like other recent meetings on the subject of warfare, this was surely to be a long one...

For the first topic, Amias would explain his very broad intentions toward his involvement in the war. He would like to secure his surrounding area and establish a block of power in the Lowlands - to do that, he wants to restore good relations with the Darndonmen by ransoming Amias the Third, marching against Malleyeth or the Coppe, and making plans to intercept trade along the Northlands River. Also in the interest of establishing a power base in the surrounding area, Amias would ask his advisors if they have any knowledge on the movements of the lords of Richiwick or Uponhall.

On the topic of the movements of those neighboring lords, Amias began. "I intend to order Captain Charibert and my son to array a force of close to a thousand for the means of assaulting Crown Coppe. The rest of the levy I believe we should stand down for the purpose of defending the lordship, and perhaps pursue other exploits in the Lethranland. As such, my son's army could use some reinforcing. Might I call on the masters of Richiwick or Uponhall? Are either of their men known to be already on the move to Malleyeth?"

Amias' nephew, Sir Vargas, raises the question of the king's previous order to attack Malleyeth, rather than go to Crown Coppe. "Should we not heed the directives of his grace? Look here-" he says, pointing at the map laid across the great table. "The garrison threatens a great many villages, mostly royal domains. There may be hell to pay if we ignore this."

Lord Telemar speaks on the lords of Uponhall and Richwick. "Lord Arland Hocke of Richwick, and Lord Lemuel of Uponhall are both stout allies of Kuldren and the king. They will fight alongside us - though, perhaps they are focused on the target that Sir Vargas has mentioned. After all, Castle Malleyeth menaces several important domains of Lord Lemuel as well - Eorlsford, and Bredtorye."

Lord Amias furrows his brow as he follows Sir Vargas' fingers trace across the map of the kingdom, locating Malleyeth and tapping it's scrawled label found on the map. He warns of there being consequences, should Lord Amias not dispatch his army to join other local lords' assault there. Lord Telemar speaks as well, and seems to share the same mind as Sir Vargas, stating the houses Hocke and Lemuel of neighboring lordships would stand beside House Enguerrand, but may have already turned their attentions to the previous plans to attack Malleyeth.

Amias leans back from his poise over the map, and yawns, covering his mouth. Strategy made him weary. As did being without his loved son. "Perhaps we should join them in the attack at Malleyeth, then. My only concern is that we leave ourselves open to attack from the Coppe. Though, perhaps it is unlikely that the commander there has any intentions, or even any capacity, to launch an offensive across the other side of the Darndonland, or make landings, anyway. May they be less willing to leave their castle due to the conflict in the Myre, worried some actor may turn against them during the upheavel?"

"Crown Coppe is of no immediate concern," claims your captain, Sir Charibert Bigge. "If an attack was on their mind, they would strike at the lands of Darndon, or perhaps the Lethran bandits. I'd be more worried about your inlaws reneging on their truce... ah, I beg your lady's pardon, m'lord - not to question the honour of good Roslin's family."

Sir Vargas hummed, and ate a grape. "Crown Coppe is capable of sallying out some men, they have the numbers for it. I doubt Myre will make any moves on them, as they are still fighting against the Aldwyns - at least, to my knowledge. As for the Thorpes, perhaps we should be wary, as Sir Charibert says."

Lord Telemar protests. "My uncle Tobin shan't attack you - there is too much opportunity in putting the Lethran lands to rights. Surely, having Porthaewidge is a suitable boon for the time being? Even if crossing the river was on his mind, your inlaws are my uncle's vassals, and they would surely oppose such dastardliness."

Sir Vargas starts to argue with Lord Morran. "Lord Tobin is not above trickery, else he would not have maintained his position for so long, and survived the battles that he has. You fool yourself, Morran."

Sir Charibert nods along. "And yes - the Eacciws are honourable sorts, but they are loyal men to their liege. They would follow him in either case." Still, Lord Morran doesn't think a betrayal will occur. "They need only wait until summer, before they can attack without dishonour. The months until then could be valuable to them."

"Valuable to us as well," Sir Charibert retorts.

Amias imbibed himself with several different indulgences within his arms' reach as his councilors changed the subject of the conversation, from plans to send the army to war to plans to deal with the Baron of Thorpe once the seasonal truce had ended. Though he wished he did not have to endure it, he did not bid his clan be silent, as every nobleman's word must be heard. The proceedings of Amias' court these days would be made much simpler would the likes of Sir Vargas and Lord Morran be tending to their own domains or on duty at the wall as normal, but Lord Amias always included all of his vassals and kin when there were matters of war to be discussed.

"All of you are right to think how you do on the matter," Amias began carefully, so as to validate the opinions of all present. "I, for one, hope to reach a more permanent agreement with Tobin come spring's end. For a month and some weeks, we shall attack Malleyeth and wherever, before then turning our attentions elsewhere if need be. During this time, a healthy garrison will remain here, to ward off any early attacks -- not just from Lord Tobin, whom I do not believe will break our truce though in that event we will be prepared, but also from the Geads, Torrek's vassal-lords, or other foemen. We may extend the campaign if allowed by our situation here."

With that settled, Lord Amias switched to talks of trade. He had previously spoken with Tonis about the prospects of limiting trade with the Carmons - Lord Amias had advocated for a full termination of trade relations with any Carmons besides Houses Thorpe and Atwater, however Tonis had convinced him to be more selective in his sanctions.

"As loyal subjects of the crown, we must avoid doing business with those whom would stand in the way of his actions. It is too early to tell exactly which barons of Carmondy will turn against us along with their king, but it is safe to say, many in Royalens and the east, around Flamebay, once the Melaynes and Malcresses are handled...however, I'd expect the western borderlands of Carmondy are some too sparsely populated and their earls too disunited to raise an army of significance despite the large swathes of land, which bodes well for us particularly.

Amias would move to the next topic at hand regarding the river trade - it's interception.

"I believe us to be in a good position to disrupt commerce along our parts of the Northlands. We possess a capable seven vessels, and could surely press into service, or construct, more. Starting immediately, we should send our ships onto the river in groups of two and three, and sack the several coastal settlements of the rogue Lord Lethran - likely he and his fellow highwaymen are in the field, and if not, will have to oppose an army of Tobin's soon enough. It is a good oppurtunity to strike those places along the river. and reap what we can sow while also giving the rogues something more to consider than the Thorpe invasion, aiding both our endeavors."

Following some discussion about attacking those villages east along the Northlands, Lord Amias would continue. "After the landings in the Lethran lands, we should turn our attentions to raiding other Carmon villages along the river as far east as Pontyprwyn, stopping and seizing their tradeships when found. We could do with additional sailors of some skill - perhaps some can be found aboard the vessels of the traders of the Doyles, the Oriflammes, and the eight barons by the Flamebay involved in the war in the Myre.

I wouldn't be opposed to harassing Baron Phillippe and his cohorts' flotilla at bay, though this would be risky, and require all our waterborne might to ensure our cogs weren't destroyed. It would also be prudent that stopped vessels may be seized, and the sailors pressed into service, should they be identified as enemies."

"However, we must first identify our enemies. It would be easier to consider who we'd want to maintain relations with, I believe. The Thorpes, Eacciws, and my friends in Royton come to mind. Who else wouldn't we want to take the ships of, lest we provoke an otherwise neutral party?"

Following the conclusion of the War Council, Lord Amias drafted his military orders on paper for Sir Charibert and Sir Amias.

"Captain Charibert, gather a force of eight-hundred for the means of joining the King's efforts. My son will join you and take command, acting as my wartime Marshal, and be permitted to bring to arms and direct those smaller lordlingships, clans and hearths you pass through outside the lordship, should they wish to accompany him. Particularly, pass through the Lanidorlands and call to arms the local masters, before looking to coordinate your forces with those of Lords Hocke and Lemuel. Should you meet resistance from any loyalists on your way, have at them totally, unless greatly outnumbered. Marshal Enguerrand should seek to press into service any able freemen whom, in allied lands besides Mallick's whos' armies are already on the move, may be suspected of being absent at muster. Along with you, three of the hearth knights, including Sir Branson but discluding Sir Glens, Lord Telemar and his retinue, Sirs Trempe and Rullen, and ten of the men-at-arms of mine. Thirty additional horsemen and one-hundred fifty archers, both of the levy. The rest of the levy will be stood down as reserve along with the remainder of my retainers and vassals. Prioritize the enlistment of well-armed levymen into your army, but do not leave me with only poor peasants to defend myself." Amias writee with exhilaration. Though Lord Amias was known widely for his distaste for bloodshed, this time was different - this could mean freedom. Liberation from the Carmon oppression which was all that Amias had knew during his reign, even if he had been spared the worst of it as a vassal of Baron Thorpe. All his life he had been quite passive, and like an old oak, Sherfield had begun to look like a stick in the mud. For this, Amias held great shame, and as he approached his end - his physician had been warning of it's for many months, now - he sought fit to correct himself. To leave his lordship in order. "You may bring your son if you must, though I must say, I always feel safer with a knight of House Bigge at my side," Amias finished with a lighthearted tone.

"Go with Paragon. Reclaim our beloved Fyrdos."

Finally, in preperation for the lengthy campaigns ahead which would undoubtedly include several siege actions, Lord Amias would authorize Tonis to consult with his contemporaries and assemble a siege battery worth three-hundred gold pieces. Only a few heavier pieces should be built, as the siege they attend may be further away, and mobility must be emphasized. More siege towers, archer shields, and battering rams, than catapults or onagers.
​


Command Mode
LETTER TO THORPE
- Agree to seasonal truce
- Offer to build siege engines and provide limited numbers of troops for taking Lethran Keep
- Offer further support if Tobin will attack Doylehard after Lethran, saying this second attack would be both a settling of the Thorpe-Doyle rivalry and a favor to Amias, in return for help in Lethran

LETTER TO GRENN
- Ask for help with Mallick, get refused and chastised
- Suggest that the Battle of Shepbrook was not provoked by Amias alone, citing the attempted murder of Lord Morran at Freyk.
- Inform King Grenn an army of close to a thousand Sherfieldmen will soon be on the move

LETTER TO MALLICK
- Inform Lord Mallick he cannot possibly pay the higher ransom at the outset of this war with the state of his treasury
- Counter-offer a lower sum nearer to the previously requested six-hundred gold, and invite Mallick to send agents to assess Amias' latest harvests, and see if a deal can be made with a large quantity of foodstuffs in addition to the gold ransom, for the more immediate release of Young Amias.


WAR COUNCIL
- Debate w/ subjects about where to attack and who to trust
- Decide on sending forces to Malleyeth, but only for at most a month and two weeks, to give time to return to fight Thorpe if need be

TRADE COUNCIL
- Discuss who to continue to trade with in Carmondy and who to not trade with
- Discuss (and do) deploying ships to the Northlands, seizing Carmon vessels, pressing them into service, and possibly harassing Pontyprwyn directly, and Rooster Bay. Who to seize and who not to seize?
- Send whole navy to raid the Lethran river coast
- Amias favors Barony of Thorpe and City of Royton as exemptions to trade bans and blockades.

MILITARY ORDERS
- Sir Charibert and Sir Amias shall gather 800 men.
- 10x Enguerrand men-at-arms
- 30x levy horsemen
- 150x levy bowmen
- ~600x levy infantry (sgts, footmen)
- Prioritize well-trained and armored levies, but do not leave Lord Amias with mere peasants to defend himself against surprise attacks by the Thorpes or Geads
- Attempt to bring men of Chepsworth, Moyes, Granswold, Lanidor, Richiwick and Uponhall to arms, following Sir Amias' army to assault Malleyeth.
- Do the same for smaller clans, hearths, and lordlingships passed through
- Press into service any able freemen suspected to have been absent at muster, should their master be known to already be on the move. Darndonlands are exempt.
- Eventually attack Malleyeth after hopefully bolstering ranks. Attack immediately if receiving news of its' already being under siege.
- Deployment of one month, two weeks.
- Sir Amias, Sir Charibert, Sir Morran, Sir Halmar, Sir Branson, Sir Trempe, and Sir Dollas (excluding Glens and Rullen) are going
- Half of the Enguerrand hearth knights are going
- Sir Fygren may or may not go depending on Charibert (see end of military orders IC)

SIEGECRAFT
- Build 300 gold siege battery
- Emphasize mobility, less heavy pieces
 
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  • ◙ - Cɪᴛʏ ᴏғ Gᴡʏʙᴜʀɢʜ - ◙

    The labouring populace of Gwyburgh has been pushed over the precipice and into open rebellion. The city's Gildmoot, consisting of the great trade associations of the Boldward, have once again denied a petition of the mostly-Fyrdian woolmen, weavers, tanners, and other poor tradesmen to form their own guilds, leaving them disenfranchised. In retaliation for posing the petition, Carmon guildsmen - dyers, drapers - badly beat several Fyrdian wool carders that were found in the Boldward, and put them in the stocks for further abuse by the populace. This lead to an outbreak of violence when the companions of the condemned men came to their rescue, killing several guildsmen and guards.

    1699156392163.png

    This followed a series of wartime tax increased by the High Magistrate, and the brutal torture and killings of several Fyrdian agitators from earlier days. Lord Arathand has apparently made his final push to expel as many Fyrdians as he can to the surrounding outworks of Hartown and the Fyrdward, to better secure the city in Carmondy's grip. Bloody repression and lack of guild representation aside, the Fyrdians that still live in Gwyburgh's market and dock districts have erupted in anger over the prospect of losing their homes and being relegated to the slums.

    Lynching and looting have become commonplace. Men break into homes and ravish women, and babes are thrown from windows and drowned in cesspots. People roam the streets with clubs and swords and bucklers, spoiling for blood. Many people are opting to leave Gwyburgh entirely, with Carmons seeking greener pastures in Wesgrath or Sunwick, and Fyrdians fleeing to Urnmoth and Careg.

    Lord Qayne's garrison dwindles as several of his soldiers are killed. Additionally, some of the mercenaries, especially common soldiers and Fyrdians, begin to desert his ranks.
​

 
Evandor Blackstone observed the bustling activity as the trading fleet, destined for the capital, completed the loading of their cargo in the early morning light. Immersed in his nostalgic reflections of seafaring days, he was abruptly drawn back to the present by a firm hand on his shoulder.


"Milord?" Captain Ravenwing inquired. "Yes, Thorne, I know," Evandor replied with a knowing smile. With a final inhalation of the invigorating sea spray, he turned to face Captain Ravenwing. "Well, let us be off then."


Heading towards the dyers to assess production, he found all in order. Upon entering the outer bailey of Castle Blackstone, his sister Seraphina greeted him, inquiring about the status of the docks. "Yes, the shipment is loaded, and I'm sure they are underway as we speak. Victor has everything under control," he assured her, a playful glint in his glowing green eyes.


Seraphina, ever the pragmatic sibling, reminded him, "You know that if you wish to meet with the mainlanders, you'll need to stop indulging in those disgusting snails." Evandor chuckled, "I am aware of their aversion to some of our traditions. I've already forgone last week's platter, and this hue will fade soon. Now, run along to your studies; I have work to do."


As she walked away, she advised, "Let Mother read over your letters; she has an eye for mainland speech." Evandor turned to Captain Ravenwing, instructing him, "Thorne, take stock of the levies, and inform Victor to prepare the Ebon Crest to sail. We'll be headed to Berngard soon." Leaving the captain to his duties, Evandor headed to his study to correspond with the lords of Flamebay, Sykes, and Berngard.

To the magnificent Baron Oriflamme,



I trust this letter finds you in excellent health and spirits. As the Baron of Blackstone Isles, I extend my warmest regards to you and your esteemed house. It is with great respect and a sense of duty that I write to you, proposing a potential union that could further strengthen the ties between our noble houses. I suggest the possibility of a marriage between myself, Evandor Blackstone, and your distinguished sister, Lady Isabel Oriflamme.

I would like to express our commitment to this alliance by including a shipment of the renowned Blackstone dye, a symbol of the prosperity and industry that our house has long been associated with. This gesture not only signifies our dedication to the union but also serves as a token of goodwill between our families.

I am open to further discussions and negotiations regarding this proposal, and I believe that our collaboration, enriched by this symbolic offering, would be mutually beneficial. I eagerly await your response and the possibility of joining our houses through this auspicious union.



Lord Evandor Blackstone, Baron of Blackstone Isles, Warden of the Royal Dye
To the great Lord Roth,



I trust this letter finds you in good health and prosperity. As the Baron of Blackstone Isles, I extend my warmest greetings to you and your esteemed house. It is with great respect and a sense of duty that I write to propose the idea of a potential union between our two houses. I suggest the possibility of a marriage between Lady Saraphina Blackstone, my cherished sister, and a suitable match within your noble house, particularly considering the esteemed lineage of House Roth.

To reinforce our commitment to this union, I suggest incorporating into Lady Saraphina's dowry a shipment of the prestigious Blackstone dye. This dye, synonymous with the enduring prosperity and industry of our house, serves not only as a symbol of our dedication to the alliance but also as a tangible expression of goodwill between our families.

Lady Saraphina is a woman of rare qualities, possessing intelligence, compassion, and strength of character. Her virtues, combined with the esteemed lineage of House Blackstone, make her an excellent match for a nobleman of your distinction. I am open to further discussions and negotiations regarding this proposal, and I believe that our collaboration, enriched by this symbolic offering, would be mutually beneficial.

I eagerly await your response and the possibility of a harmonious and fruitful alliance between House Blackstone and the distinguished House of Roth.



Lord Evandor Blackstone, Baron of Blackstone Isles, Warden of the Royal Dye
Lord Robert of Berngard,



I trust this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. As the Baron of Blackstone Isles, I extend my warm regards to you and your esteemed household. It is with a matter of utmost importance that I write to you today.

I write to you on this day to express my concern and to propose an in-person meeting to discuss the ongoing rebellion on the mainland. Given the gravity of the situation, I believe that a face-to-face discussion would be the most effective way to share insights, assess the current situation, and collaborate on strategies to address this challenge.

It is my hope that our combined efforts can contribute significantly to quelling the unrest and restoring peace to the affected regions. Your wisdom and leadership have always been commendable, and I am confident that our collaboration will be instrumental in finding a resolution to this matter.

Lord Evandor Blackstone, Baron of Blackstone Isles, Warden of the Royal Dye

Summery

  • Send letters to Flamebay, Berngard, and Sykes
  • Send a trade fleet to the capital of Carmondy for dye trade
  • Ready the Ebon Crest, Flag ship, to sail to Berngard
  • Gather the number of levies that can be raised
  • Stop eating snail so eyes will no glow when in the mainland
  • Ensure that dye production is in order
 


  • ♦-Hᴏᴜsᴇ ᴏғ Bʟᴀᴄᴋsᴛᴏɴᴇ-♦

    Sealed with the waxen emblem of the Blackstone Isles, the missives were entrusted to swift messengers. Clad in the livery of the Blackstone Isles, these envoys embarked on their voyage to the mainland of Carmondy.

    1701665392444.png

    The dyeworks are functioning and in good order; snails are smashed, vats are stirred, and the resulting colours ever vibrant. The overseers give... glowing reports of the production. Your expert in things malacological, Gorren Maldrake, ensures that your shieldsake Azure snails are in healthy numbers, and bear no ill effects of the Schism, or else new faendish mutations. Originally dispatched to the isles by King Agbert, this man - originally from Dyrnwald - has been closely monitoring the little shelled animals since the earlier days of dye production, and he forwards his reports to the crown itself. He is a withered-looking fellow, but still spry, and deeply interested in all things mollusk.

    1701664505172.png
    Cragwick docks, Blackstone Isles

    Down at the docks scattered throughout the isles, the harbour masters bellowed orders to the crews preparing their individual sections of the Blackstone trade fleet. The creaking of wood and the flapping of sails echoed through the air as the barony's banner was raised high, showcasing his protection to any would-be pirates. Deckhands bustled about, ensuring the cargo holds were secured, and navigators pored over maps to chart the most advantageous course for the journey.

    A concerned member of your council approaches you. It's none other than the aide-de-camp to your barony's admiral, and the captain of the Ebon Crest; an Adaric Gaines. Though of common birth, he has proven himself a capable commander of both your flagship and its men, and along with Victor, he has been your sage advisor in all things marine. "Milord," he bows. "It has come to my attention that you are both preparing a trading expedition and mobilising the navy for to fight in Carmondy..." He draws in a breath. "Now, unless this is a feint - or has some other important purpose I am not yet aware of - we should not divert so many ships away from our own isles." Adaric gestures out one of the castle windows, pointing north and east. "The King of Dyrnwald is at our doorstep, watching us like a hawk from the great castle of Kanarith. If we bring all of our fleet away, he will swoop in to press his claims on Blackstone and seize all we have. The time would never be riper to stage an invasion. I suggest we consider leaving part of our fleet behind, both to deter the Dyrnwalders, and to give us a fighting chance in the event of an attack - which may even happen regardless, if you ask me," the captain tells you.

    1701665728343.png
    Berngard Castle

    Whichever way you decide to proceed in regards to your Barony's fleet, the Ebon Crest is able to successfully take you to Berngard Castle, safely docking at the small harbour there. Upon arrival at the keep, you are greeted by a short and stout man, red of hair. This is Sir Moftan Volstaff, Lord Robert's steward. He has a somber look about him - you learn that only a few weeks ago his cousin, Sir Thoran, was killed at the Battle of Bronsfield. Apparently, Lord Mardas Aldwyn, the Baron of Wesgrath - Robert's uncle - had land seized from him by Lord Bomric, Baron of Myre... and it all came to a head at Bronsfield. Lord Bomric, as well as his son and heir, Sir Cortyn, were slain in the battle, where over a hundred men in total are said to have met their end. Berngard and its allies were victorious that day, and Lord Robert reconciled with both Bomric's widow and one of his former henchmen, Lord Wernick, the Baron of Scarwin. The Baron of Yonbry also fought on the side of the rogues that had opposed Berngard, but he is said to now be pacified.

    Sir Moftan directs you to Ramcrest, the recently-seized castle that once belonged to the Lord of Myre. The steward tells you that the last he heard from his master was that he was holding a war council there, along with Lady Malcress of Myre, the Barons of Wesgrath and Scarwin, and dignitaries from the Barony of Flamebay. "Godspeed, my lord. I received your missive but have yet to open it. Perhaps you should hand it to him in person?"
​
 
Albert MacEanruig
Darrowfall​

The march hadn’t been hard or long, uncontested roads and fair weather. Over 2,000 men, mostly from Kragwyn but others had come with his uncle, Lord Tristian Sheach and his brother-in-law Lord Dustin Craig as well as there vassals. He would have liked to march with more men, but time was of the essence. Besides, having men who could bear arms in Kragwyn to hep defend his lands was prudent. Sir Bold and Robert had told him as much.

Outside his pavilion in front of the east gate of Darrowfall he could hear men at work construction the siege camp, one of four that he intended to construct. Each gate would have men in front of it. Enough to hold back any attempt at sally and hold off an attempt to relieve the siege if the Carmons attempted to save Lord Miras.

And then there was the news from Mogg.

“It could be worse,” Robert said across the table from him.

“Worse? How could it be worse?”

“Rylan could have put the whole garrison to the sword. Besides, this is just a rumor. The say Murryn killed Swanton, and that can not be true as we just drank and dined with him and the King. Swanton might not even had been executed. Killed in battle mayhaps, or Rylan may have had him killed. Either way, I doubt Darrow has heard the news.”

Albert sighed, it was true enough. They had only heard of Mogg’s fall this morning. He had little reason to believe that same news could have reached Miras before him.

“It still makes our task difficult either way. Carmondy will have retribution for there fallen castellan, and I doubt they would care if the rumors are true or not.”

Robert shrugged, “It’s a problem for another day. We have our hands full here, once we take this castle we can begin to worry about what happens latter.”

A few moments latter, Lord Murry entered the pavilion, followed by the other commanders of the army now gathered in front of Darrowfall.

Lord Murray, Kieth, Craig, Springbow, and Sheach file into the pavilion, sitting down on chairs brought in by servants. A pitcher of wine is left on the table, along with silver goblets for all, but the drink is especially watered - discussing stratagems could be thirsty work, though it required sharp minds. As the lords who marched in with the initial host begin to settle down, a boy in the tabard of Clan MacEanruig appears shortly afterwards. His curly hair is mostly covered by an iron skullcap with a camail draped about his shoulders, and he drops to a knee. "Your High Lordship, the Aerchranians have arrived. Lord Lugedecas Sayble asks to join your war council."
Lord Amos Murray pounds his fist on the table in approval. "Ah, excellent. I knew Aerchranland would come. How many men does he bring, boy?" The young retainers clears his throat. "Six hundred, sir - ahh, my lord - maybe seven." The lords are generally heartened by the additional fighting men, though at least a few seem to wish for there to be more glory to go around.

“Lord Sayble is more then welcomed to join us,” Albert turned to the retainer as he spoke. Any amount of men would be helpful as he turned his attention to the map that had been placed before the assembled lords. Darrowfall could be entered at four gates, two of them, the east gate and the south gate, had the main road enter and exit them.

“I believe it would be prudent if we focus our efforts on the main southern gate as well as the eastern gate. Between Robert and myself we will take our force and construct our siege camp here,” He pointed at the large southern gate house, “Lord Sheach, have your force and the force of Lord Springbow take the eastern gate. Lord Murry and Lord Kieth I entrust the western gate to the two of you. Lord Craig and Lord Sayble may place there forces on the northern gate. A portion of my forces, commanded by Robert, will be kept in reserve in case any one siege camp needs aid.”

As the High Lord doles out the positions, the commanders assigned to each of the camps nod, studying the map themselves. "I will ensure that the other camps are well-stocked with timber for the fires and siegeworks, my lord," says Lord Dustin Craig. "I'll put some of my men to work felling trees in that area. The flap to the pavilion is opened, and Lord Lugedecas steps in. He is a man of opulent dress - fine furs over his silvered mail hauberk, but he is a singularly unattractive man. He has a scar on the left side of his mouth from a sword stroke, such that a few teeth are always showing. He is beardless and bald, with sunken gray eyes and wrinkles on his forehead. He bows, and takes his seat after exchanging pleasantries and being informed of the planned encampments. "Right. So," he begins, pouring himself some wine. "What terms are we to offer the defenders? I'd like to think that they'd reconsider their position - but knowing Miras... He would never bow to King Tharon." A few others nod.
"It seems to me he has two choices, die here, or flee south and bow to the King of Carmondy. I will over him safe passage out of Fyrdos if he surrenders the castle and nothing more." Albert replies.

"Ordinary enough terms," remarks Lord Kieth. "Now, whether or not he accepts - we ought to set out harrying the lands of Trambley, no? That crooked abbot should be deposed - have his head set on a spike, ask me. He is kin to the bloody Baron of Flamebay, and as you all know, he profanes Paragon with his extortions." There are murmured agreements - little love is had for the Abbot of Trambley.

"Give me a hundred men and I will have the Abbot brought here bound in chain," Robert says, looking to the other lords and his brother.

"See it done. Have some of my knights..." begins Lord Dustin, no doubt wanting a share of the abbey's riches, or else Abbot Ubbo's ransom. Lord Lugedecas and offers some of his own knights and those of his vassals as well. There are plenty of mounted men from which Robert may choose to bring with him.

"Then my Lord's, I shall be off to capture the Abbot." With a short bow Robert left the pavilion and made off to gather the riders for his new task.

"I suppose now we must see too parlaying with Darrow, " Albert said after his brother left, " Should Darrow see reason and surrender peacefully we will have to plan our next move; march our force south or march and join with Lord Amias' forces in the west."
The Gate of Darrowfall

The flag of the Darrows flies high above their castle. The stone walls can be seen peaking above the frontal palisades of logs which house the bailey. The farms and outbuildings surrounding the castle have already been razed by the defenders, and it looks like most of the nonfighting servants have been expelled from the gates. The banner of parley is prepared to be raised.

Albert rode up to the palisade wall, beside him were two knights of his own house that Robert had decided to leave behind. All told, his party was but 5 men, himself, Sir Avand and one of his squires as well as Sir Bruce and his squire. His other knight's had gone with Robert to capture the Abbot of Trambley. Sir Avand held the banner of parley on his left while Sir Bruce rode upon his right. With a nod Albert ordered the banner to be raised, unfurled it fluttered limply in the weak wind of the day.

"Will the Lord of Darrowfal come and give parley?" Albert shouted towards the castle.

The gates to the palisaded bailey are pulled open by a pair of soldiers in iron helmets and mail hauberks, and a procession of the same number begins to slowly ride out to meet you. Up on the walls of Darrowfall Keep, men with loaded crossbows and nocked arrows watch carefully over the battlements. You see Lord Miras on top of his war horse, wearing an egg-shaped bascinet, iron pauldrons, and flowered rondels on his knees and elbows. His long mustache creeps out of his mail coif, and he smiles with yellow teeth as he sees you. "Ah, Lord Albert." He is flanked by a few other mounted knights, whom you cannot recognize past their ventails.

He wasn't comfortable with the crossbows' and arrows pointed at him. He hoped he hid it well. It would not due if Lord Miras felt that he was weak in anyway. Lords were like that, they would cower and grovel as long as the thought someone was stronger then they and rip you apart if they thought you weak. No different then the heathen tribes men from the hills.

"Lord Miras," he looked the man in the eye, "I have come to offer you terms. Surrender your castle and you will have safe passage to the south."

"Yes," sneers Lord Miras. "I shall pack my bags then, and go off to become a woolmonger in Pontyprwyn. I am sure Philippe de Oriflamme and Arathand Qayne will be enthused that I yielded my castle so easily, and allowed the Pale to be overrun. Do you have any other terms to offer me, my lord?"

He wasn't surprised by that response. If he where Miras the prospect of having to face men like the Bloody Baron or Qayne without having spilt some blood would have been a more daunting task then enduring a siege. But it was the best he could do, there was no way Grenn would suffer a man who barred his gate to him to keep his castle.

"Unfortunately my Lord, I have little else to offer to men who lock there gates to there rightful Kings. I give you two days to think it over, if you will not vacate this castle in peace, you will force me to take it by force."

The Lord of Darrowfall nods. "Mhm. Past lords of this keep may have submitted to the yoke of the Kings of Kuldren, but I shall not. Should you forsake Grenn, then come back to me and perhaps I shall reconsider. In either case... the Darrows shall not be driven from Darrowfall." With that, he and his small entourage take their leave, and ride back behind the walls of their keep. You know that these lands were given greater license and favor by the Carmondians of the Pale than they ever received as tenants of Grenn, of whom they are nominal vassals only. They would never join the rebellion and risk having their lands absorbed into the demesne of Tharon.

Albert turned his horse, he knew he would ne be committing to a siege. A bloody affair to be sure. He returned to his pavillion and instructed the engineers and carpenters to construct a catapult, a covered battering ram, ladders and crows as well as two mantlets. The pavilion itself felt empty, even though men came in and out. He prayed to Paragon that Robert would be back from Trambley soon.
ORDERS

Construct Siege Camps.
Build a catapult.
Build a covered battering ram.
Build ladders and crows.
Build two mantlets.
Capture the Abbot of Trambley and harras the Lord of Trombley's lands.
 
✵ Cʟᴀɴ MᴀᴄEᴀɴʀᴜɪɢ ✵

Later that evening, Sir Robert makes good on his word, returning with Abbot Ubbo in chains. He is jeered at by the men as he is lead along on a palfrey, escorted by knights on all sides. "Flamebay fetcher!" yells a bowman, followed by a cascade of vitriol from the other common soldiery and camp followers.

"Bastard! Chop em'! Hang em'!"

"Lecher!"

"Oi, Uddo! To the Abyss with you!"

Over the next couple of days, the camps are erected by the besieging forces on the four sides of Darrowfall. Trees are cut down and used to fashion ladders, huts, bonfires and makeshift stables. A battering ram with a roof is constructed and covered in rawhide taken from cattle that were seized in the surrounding countryside. These leathers are also used for the fronts of the mantlets, extra sword scabbards and arrow quivers. It isn't long before a foul stench arises from both the butchered animals as well as the live ones that have brought in for the beast pens at the camps.

A simple catapult is built in the pull-thrower style and fitted with wheels with the help of a cartwright. Siege hooks are also mounted onto long poles.

Your delegated lieutenants at the western gatehouse start to fill in their side of the dry moat, and quickly find themselves shot at by archers. One shoveler, a spearman from Kildarren, was wounded badly by a barbed arrow, had it improperly removed, and is expected to die in a few days.

Lord Kieth suggests aggressive action. "We must take the western bailey - our ram should be able to make short work of the wooden gatehouse. We must give them less room to breathe."

Lord Amos is skeptical of the idea. "It could be a trap. They have had days to fill that bailey with stakes, fire, caltrops, what-have-you."

The Lord of Kildarren shrugs. "It must be taken at some point, in either case. As you say, the longer we wait, the more days they have to make more traps and reinforce the position."​
 
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