In the Aftermath of Fjaga

In the Aftermath of Fjaga

Postby Matt » Fri Aug 12, 2005 10:31 pm

The battle was over.

The Ivinians had fled the field, routed by the double blow of Tharda's heavy cavalry and heavy infantry. The Earl of Westmarch organized the mopping up, and King Arren II dismounted and walked among his troops, thanking and congratulating them for a stirring victory. "Tharda victorious," he shouted, and they raised their swords in salute and repeated his cheer.

Sir Pavers Xelados rode up to the King, the Orbaalese monarch his prisoner. "Your majesty!" he cried. "I bring you a great prize!" Several of his knights brought forth Alegar II.

"For this my friend, you have earned your barony." Arren II leaned on his sword, studying his adversary. "You are not very formidable, old man."

"Whelp," spat Alegar.

Arren laughed. "Did you hear that?" he asked. "He called me a whelp. How very original." Arren looked at his foe. "They say you and my father were born in the same year. You both became kings, but there the resemblence ends I see. If you are the best this ice-blasted land can produce, my conquest here will be very brief."

"Your bones will bleach in this land."

Arren laughed. "Old fool. You are the past. I am the future. Look at this field. I defeated you without even thinking about it. The tactics I employed are so old and so basic that you should be embarrassed. But you are an arrogant people - I should know - but unlike me you lack the power to support your arrogance. Behold." King Arren raised his hand, and swept the battlefield with his arm. The he stared into Alegar's eyes, and the King of Orbaal knew fear.

"My liege," called Baron Yonan. "We have overlooked the field and it is ours. This Ivinian - wounded - claims he is your man."

"Ah," said King Arren, breaking the gaze. "He is indeed. Have you seen to his wounds?"

"Yes, Majesty," said Yonan, bowing.

"Good. Mereth Rathalir - you served my father."

"I did and do, mighty sovereign," said Bjan Drogo.

"TRAITOR!" hissed Alegar.

"Patriot," replied Drogo calmly.

"Remove the once King of Orbaal," commanded King Arren. "He shall do good service yet, but not here. Mereth, We are pleased that you have survived this battle. You have opened a kingdom to us, and we are grateful."

"You words, gracious sovereign, are such reward as I do not deserve."

"We yet have need of your service."

"Command me, Sire."

"What do you need here?"

Rathalir surveyed the battlefield. "All Thardan casualties must be removed. I Assume you do not plan to pursue?" Arren shook his head. "And the Ivinian casualties must be stacked and burned. I shall tell them you left them for carrion and that I saw to their funeral. This will cover any suspicions they have, and make them fear you."

Arren nodded. "A good plan. See to Sir Mereth's request."


"You have earned this. Kneel."

Mereth Rathalir knelt before his King. "I dub thee Sir Mereth Rathalir and grant you lands appropriate to your station. Rise, Sir Mereth."

"Majesty," said Sir Mereth, choked with emotion.

"Deliver this kingdom to me Sir Mereth."

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