Session One Hundred and Eighteen - April 11, 2015

Wherein the ongoing story of the FtF campaign may be found ...

Session One Hundred and Eighteen - April 11, 2015

Postby Matt » Tue May 12, 2015 11:50 am

Azura 5 ,732

Sir Ewen was not expecting visitors; the knock at the door of Raven Hall piqued his curiosity. Walin opened it to find three men standing on the threshold. Ewen did not recognize their leader Sir Minster Ocazer, a minor lord of Kaldor, but did Sir Ban Faragar, who had participated in the recent tourney and done fairly well. The third, much younger than the other two, was also a stranger.

“Welcome, Sir Minster,” responded Ewen with poise after the introductions.

“Sir Ewen, a great pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Will you take refreshment?”

Ale and cakes were brought forth, and some small chat passed. Eventually Sir Minster said “Sir Ewen, I shall come to the point. I am the Lord of Colu Manor. I have two sons, and one heir. I also have a wife. This creates a problem. Sir Ban here, bonded to my house, participated in your most excellent tourney, and returned to Colu with the suggestion that you might be able to solve my problem.”

“I would be happy to see what I could do.”

“Pleased to hear it. Allow me to introduce my problem: my son, not heir: Goreg.”

The young man made a stiff, unpracticed bow to Ewen.

“Goreg has been serving as Sir Ban’s squire, but now that my son and heir is out of swaddling, my wife has made it clear she will no longer tolerate his presence, if you understand.”

“I believe I do.”

“Sir Ban’s solution, if I might impose, came to mind when he learned you and your knights lack squires.”

Sir Ban broke in. “Sir Baris was most vocal on the subject.”

“I was what?” asked Baris in confusion.

Sir Minster continued. “I was hoping one of your knights might take him on. He’s nineteen years of age, and very well trained, if I may say. Lacks only two years ‘til he’s knighted. I shall, of course, make a bequest to you to cover the costs of his dubbing, and am prepared to do so up front.”

“Generously said, Sir Minster. You are correct in noting I am myself in need of a squire. The other knights in my retinue recently acquired squires, but I still lack. It may be that Goreg here may prove compatible in my household.”

Sir Minster repeated that Goreg possessed all proper trappings and a horse, and that he would pay for the dubbing. Sir Ewen waved aside such talk. “Of course. Such matters are not for us to quibble over.”

“I am pleased to hear it. And of course, you would have my gratitude, and perhaps would accept an invitation to a hunt at Colu.”

“With pleasure. Tell me of your manor.”

“It’s to the southeast of Querina, not too far, subinfeudated to Heru.”

“Heru?” Baris piped up. “Is the horse you’re providing ... red?”

Ewen ignored the knight. “I will take Goreg on for a few weeks and evaluate him, and we’ll see how it goes for he rest of the month. At the end of the month, I will make a final decision.”

Very pleased, Sir Minster rose and parting words were exchanged. Just as he about to leave, the knight stopped.

“One more thing, Sir Ewen ...”

“Yes?”

“The lad does have a mother.”

“I expected as much.”

“She’s in Tashal as well. But she will not impose on you in any way. She will find her own lodging, and make her living by the prick ... of her needle.”

“I shall take care of mother!” Goreg declared, startling the room.

“Well said, Goreg,” Ewen said. “Thank you for the information, Sir Minster.”

As Sir Minster was on his way out, he exchanged greetings with someone on their way in – someone with a strong and familiar accent.

“Good afternoon, suh.” Sir Rollard, with Thilisa, stood at the door.

“My Lady Thilisa, an honor,” said Sir Minster, and they chatted before parting. “Is that so?” Ewen heard his wife say, moments before she swept into the room.

“Husband, once again you have left me in a place where scoundrels and ruffians walk with abandon!”

“Yes, my good lady, but I see Sir Rollard has escorted you safely back to our abode.”

“Ah insisted, Suh Ewen,” said Sir Rollard with a tone that implied he had not.

“I decided it was time to return to the relative safety of this house. Now I am exhausted, and wish to retire. Rollard, send up food.” She climbed the stairs as haughtily as she could in her condition.

“I will have refreshments sent up,” Ewen said. “Goreg, go with Petros and Kalas. They will show you where to bed down.”

The lad bowed again. “I shall serve you honorably, Sir Ewen.”

“I am quite sure you shall. Welcome to my household.” After Goreg followed the other squires, Ewen said “Walin, please ask Sir Rollard to see me in the study when he has a moment.”

Baris looked around at the swirling mass of squires and servants. “It’s getting late. Is it time for dinner? All these visitors have made me hungry.”

“Well, Sir Baris, let’s see my Lady wife is attended to first.”

“She seems pretty good at taking care of herself!”

“Sir Baris,” Sir Ewen said drily. “Are you purporting to instruct me on how to handle a wife?”

“No, no! I wouldn’t know anything about that, and don’t plan to for sometime to come. Unless Meleine says yes, since she’s hot!”

Ewen paused. “Are you suggesting you are pursuing this lady, Baris?”

“It depends on what you mean by pursuing. I did buy vellum. Sotor said to.”

Ewen waxed a mite pale, thinking of the sheer political havoc that could be generated by Sir Baris tilting a lance at the woman indirectly responsible for the murder of the prince. “Sir Baris, I think it high time you became domesticated.”

“You want me to become a cow?”

“I am rather in the line of saying you should get a cow, not become a cow.”

“I’m pretty sure I have some at Selepan.”

Ewen sighed. “Perhaps, Walin, it is indeed time for dinner.”

“Dinner is served, milord.”

Sir Rollard joined them at the board. “Sir Ewen, the Lady wishes to dine in private.”

“I thought she might. Which gives us the opportunity to speak. I understand from Lady Afaewynn that somebody had been poaching on my land and occupying my acres.”

“Ah know of the poaching. A lahge body of troops moved through the woods in the east, taking deer and uther game.”

“Can you estimate the size of the force?”

“Ah did not see them, but the woodward said it seemed like fiftuh or sixtuh men. Like a foruhging party.”

“All on foot? No mounted?”

“Ah so believe. There were no reports of equine ahcompaniment. Ah felt the prudent thing t’do was t’remove the Lady Thilisa from the vicinity. As you know, suh, it takes about an hour ta get from Varayne ta Tashal. We left late this morning.”

Ewen took the hint; it had required far longer to get his lady wife over the same distance. “Showing due care for confinement, of course.”

“We reduhfined due care.”

“I thank you for your offices, as always. I should tell you we were alarmed by the report, and had planned to ride out at first light.”

“Verah prudent. Ah must tell you, though ah am no general, it did not seem to me like an invasion. But rather, as ah said, foraging, which seems to suggest either a depletion of resources or the need to feed a lahge number. Either way, quite a few mouths needin’ ta be fed.”

“Indeed.”

“Pardon me, but now ah best see if mah Lady is enjoying her dinner.”

“One question before, if I may: it is my understanding that my Lady wife had an audience with Sir Andro Valador. Do you know if Sir Andro had any connection with this body of men?”

“Ah should say not. Had that been the case, Milady would have known, and not felt any alahm. They discussed nothing of import t’mah knowledge. Though they were closeted for a great deal of time.”

Ewen smiled. “Thank you, Sir Rollard. Feel free to see to my Lady wife.”

“As always, ah strive to do mah duty, suh.”


Goreg followed Petros upstairs, his bedroll on his shoulder.

“I hope you’re better than Sir Baris’s new squire.”

Goreg let that go, unwilling to get into any feuds just yet. “Where are we sleeping?”

“Fourth floor, with the Thardan lads. If you see any owls, they’re to be assassinated immediately.”

“All right ... That seems odd.”

They reached the loft, and Goreg stashed his kit next to the other squires’.



At eleven hours of the clock, Sir Ewen was enjoying a nightcap and perusing one of the books Sotor had discovered in his library, feeling pleasantly tranquil for a change. Naturally, the pounding on the door came instantly.

“Will somebody get the door?” he shouted, until eventually he came to his feet and descended to see what fresh hell awaited him. He reached the door moments after Walin.

On the threshold stood one of his soldiers, the same man who had, two days before, reported the troops at Varayne.

“Sir Ewen! I apologize for the lateness, but it took me a while to climb over the city walls and sneak in!”

“I gather you bear important news.”

“I do! This morning, Caer Ternua was invested by a large army. Around noon, I saw the prearranged signal from the captain in the castle, which meant I was to come to you.”

“Had the Blue Boars arrived?”

“No, sir. I passed them on the road.”

“How far do they have to go?”

“They’ll arrive tomorrow morning.”

“How many men do the enemy have at Ternua?”

“I counted five companies.”

“Whose arms?”

Several, the messenger reported, but foremost among them a white field bearing a snake and rose. Ewen recognized the arms: Verdreth, former baron of Ternua. The dispossessed man was trying to retake his lands.

Ewen found himself facing critical choices. How best to array his forces? Had the castle fallen already? Could he possibly raise enough forces and get them to Ternua in time? First things first: he roused the hall, ordered preparations made for immediate departure. Speed was of the essence.

A messenger was dispatched to Varayne, with orders for the garrison there to get on the march. There was still some fodder left from the tourney, but otherwise the light horse would have to live off the land. The household was kitted out and mustered. Cekiya was dispatched to the Elf and Dwarf to fetch Baris and Kalas. Goreg, astonished at being here less than twelve hours and already marching to war, was sent with Petros to the Ostler’s to prepare the knights’s horses.

It was last call when Cekiya reached the inn. Sir Baris was nowhere to be seen in the common.

“Where’s your boss?” she asked the bartender.

“He’s retired.”

“Not alone?”

“Not when he went up.”

“Just one tonight?”

“When he went up. Tall staircase, treacherous corner. Anything could happen,” the barman said with a smirk.

Cekiya climbed the tall staircase and remembered the previous owner bleeding out at that treacherous corner; it was a pleasant memory. She proceeded to the closed door of the master’s chamber. From within came a snore, a snore she knew well. She slipped in the door.

By the light of a guttering candle, she could see Baris sprawled in bed with his latest doxy. Both were naked, but only the doxy was awake. Cekiya motioned for her to get lost.

The doxy smiled and shook her head no. “He told me to wait,” she mouthed.

Cekiya spotted Baris’s armor on its stand in the corner. Atop the mail sat the knight’s new prize, the helmet, shaped like an enormous boar, its tusks glittering in the candlelight. Next to the stand was a table, atop which were scattered scraps of paper, a spilled inkwell, and a quill.

Cekiya silently lifted the helmet and placed it on her shoulders. Then she took the quill and moved over to Baris, dabbing funny things on his eyelids and a flower on his cheek. The knight’s nose began to twitch, and eventually his eyes opened to see the great steel boar hovering over him.

“Honey, are you wearing my helmet?” he asked.

“Not I,” said the doxy.

“The helmet’s moving!” he gasped.

Cekiya did her best, loudest impression of an angry boar.

“IT’S SPRUNG TO LIFE!”

Baris sprang out of the bed and had flattened against the wall when Cekiya revealed herself and told him to get dressed. He reluctantly dismissed the doxy, but paid her for the full time. While he outfitted himself, Cekiya roused Kalas, and the trio returned to Raven Hall.


At the city gate, the squires found themselves with trouble. It was closed, as anyone could expect this time of night. After much futile knocking at the gatehouse door, they finally got a response.

“Come back in the morning!”
“Good man, I am on a mission of my master, Sir Ewen Ravinargh, and need the gate open,” Goreg said.

“I don’t see Sir Ewen.”

“We have been sent to fetch the horses of our master.”

“That is a tremendous ruse you have. Go away.”

Goreg was desperate. His first assigned task, and it was going awry. Much as he hated to, it was time to consume some resources. This was too important to let slip.

He knocked again, until the gatekeeper reappeared. “My master is a generous man,” he said, shoving through a purse containing a shilling’s worth of his own cash.

The gatekeeper counted the coins and chuckled. “Well, that just about manages one of the hinges. There are four, you know.”

Goreg forked over two more shillings. “How about you throw the fourth one in for free?”

“All right. I think the hinges work for that amount.”

The gate opened barely wide enough for them to squeak out, and shut quickly behind them. They hurried to the ostler’s, woke him, and were given their lords’ horses. Petros took Iblis, having received specific instructions not to allow the new guy to attend to the notoriously high-strung steed.

Azura 6, 732

It was after midnight before Sir Ewen’s force was ready to move out. The party moved through the dark streets of the city, to the Ternua gate. Unlike the squires, Sir Ewen knew the secret knock that produced the gatekeeper quickly, and in a polite mood. The man sped to unlock the gate.

“Sir Ewen, I should tell you: there were some scoundrels that came by earlier, said they were working on your behalf. Little snot-noses, invoking their betters like that.”

“I know. Those were the squires of myself and Sir Aeomund here.”

“He was legit?” the gate sergeant squawked. He produced a purse containing two shillings and passed it to Sir Ewen. “It’s not right I keep that, then.”

“Certainly not. I see my squire made an ill-considered investment.”

“Not for him. Man’s gotta drink, after all.”

“I understand.”

They found Goreg and Petros at the ostler’s alongside the fully prepared steeds. Goreg was still frying in humiliation, having put the saddle on backwards and necessitating correction by Petrus. The knights mounted up and the force began to move south.

In the dark and the mud, it took two hours to reach Varayne. The messenger Sir Ewen had dispatched arrived only shortly before. The alarum was raised, and the house joined to suit up and provision the ten foot there.

Out of the woods came a huntress, swift and silent as a deer. “Aeomund-sir takes trip?” Kittiara asked.

“War may be afoot.”

“Which way to the horrific violence?”

“Actually, I want you to follow the foragers that were in Varayne, then loop back around to join us at Ternua. Or pick up my remains there, if need be.”

“Your pyre will light the sky.” She agreed to follow the foraging party as soon as first light allowed her.

Ewen briefed Lady Afaewynn on the situation. The men were taking what provisions they could carry at this point. There were plenty of wagons and supplies to send along in time – but hardly the guards to escort them. It would scarce be worth the effort if they were to be seized en route. Ewen instructed her to wait until he sent word before dispatching the wagons. If things went well, he could send an escort back. If they didn’t, there was no need to send anything.

By three hours after midnight, the force was again on the road. Every minute mattered. It could already be too late.

The black sky changed to dark gray in a hideous parody of dawn. The mud sucked at horses’ hooves and men’s boots. By five hours past midnight, Sir Ewen’s small army passed through the manor of Abel, subinfeudated to Ternua. The peasants were already out in the fields, getting in the harvest. Nothing looked out of the ordinary.

The Blue Boars should have been somewhere in this area, but there was no clue of their presence. Worried, Sir Ewen ordered Sir Aeomund and Cekiya to scout ahead, on foot.

“Sneak this way,” Cekiya announced, and vanished. Sir Aeomund trudged on through the rain. Over a rise, the woods ended, and he discovered the mercenaries bivouacked by the side of the road, just inside the tree line.

The captain, Aisla, saw the knight coming, and rushed out to meet him. “Sir Aeomund! When we arrived this morning, my scouts revealed the castle to be in a state of siege. We withdrew to await instructions.”

“Your instructions are at hand. Can you tell me their disposition?”

“Maybe. My information is hours old. There are at least one hundred men in the enemy force, all inside the low stone wall on the rise above town. No headquarters we could identify.”


Cekiya crept up to the town itself. In the distance, she could spot the castle, but there were no ladders on the walls, and it did not seem to be under attack at that moment.


Sir Ewen’s force joined the Blue Boars, and finally they had a body of men that could accomplish something – though it seemed they were still outnumbered. After conferring with the knights and his captains, Sir Ewen decided to keep his army hidden, and ride out under a flag of truce to parley.

Sir Ewen mounted his horse, Sir Aeomund by his side. Kaelyn accompanied them as secretary. Goreg was handed the white flag. Leaving Sir Baris in temporary command, Sir Ewen rode out, around the town, towards the western gate of the low wall. They were spotted, and a horn-call echoed out over the countryside.

They could see a group similar to theirs ride out towards the wall from the Peonian temple near the castle. Leading them was a fat knight. They came to the wall, looking down on Sir Ewen and his company. It was Lord Tarmas Verdreth, very much out of his jail cell. Alongside him were his son, Sir Anzarn, and four other knights.

“Greetings, sir knights,” said Lord Verdreth. “Who comes under a flag of truce to my castle?”

“I am Sir Ewen Ravinargh.”

“I know you.”

“I bear a writ given to me by the King giving me commission of this land, and it is my men in that castle.”

“Then you would very much oblige me if you would order them to leave.”

“I would be happy to do so if you can show me instruction from the King that they should.”

“The legalities of whether the King can dispossess me transcend any little piece of paper. My ancestors are buried in that keep, and that is all the legal title I need.”

“I am, but a simple knight, and the niceties of such legalities transcend both my understanding and my interest. I know only that I hold this keep by the King, and will only relinquish it at his command.”

“Very well said! You are to be commended. You’ll forgive me if I pay you no mind. How are you fixed for men?”

“That is my concern, sir.”

“I see. Well, I have bellowed and you have bellowed, and we’ve both waved papers – well only you, really. Where do we stand?”

“It is my understanding, sir, that you have declared war on my men.”

“I haven’t harmed a hair on their heads. I have given them forty-eight hours to leave this place.”

“They will require much greater persuasion than that.”

“They have some thirty hours left to comply.”

“You, sir, may retire from your present position.”

For the first time, Verdreth’s face betrayed some annoyance. “You’re quite perfunctory. You’re addressing a baron!”

“It’s my understanding I’m addressing a traitor. I came here under flag of truce. You have greeted me with sophistry and jocularity.”

“Watch yourself. I would hate to have to break my word to your men, and assault them before the allotted time.”

As he bantered with Verdreth, Sir Ewen’s eyes focused on the tower beyond. The battlements were dark with more men than he expected. Dickon was supposed to have just twenty soldiers, but he could count at least ten already. In the enemy forces, he noted that half the Verdreth infantry were longbow men (who could far outrange his own archers), in two sections of twenty each, and another forty light footmen, though with some medium foot interspersed. At least one hundred men total, none close to the castle walls.

“I supposed, Sir Ewen, there’s nothing left to do, but set the time. I fear it’s late in the day for a fight.”

“You, sir, have been notified of your obligations.”

“Exactly. There’s nothing left to do. Let us set the time.”

“Dawn at the north common suits me,” said Ewen diffidently, and he turned his back on the renegade baron.

“Dawn it is. Where we are,” came someone’s voice – he wasn’t sure whose – behind him.

The parley group rode back to camp, and Ewen shared all the information they had on the enemy. He and his inner circle conferred on the best plan for the morrow. They were badly outnumbered, and no plan of attack seemed promising.

“If only we had the light horse at Inbernel!” said Ewen.

“We shall!” cried Baris. “I’ll fetch them, riding like the wind, all night, and be back here with the lot of them by dawn!”

Baris dashed off, his gallant figure reduced some by the fact his horse could make no more than a brisk walk in the deep mud. Ewen was not comforted.

The rain continued. Ewen charged Sir Aeomund with the making of a properly fortified war camp to the west of the town. Should they dig in and let the Verderth forces divide themselves to attack both camp and castle? What if they enemy was assaulting the caer as they spoke? Ewen seemed to be at Verdreth’s sufferance. He could see no angle where he might realistically take the initiative.

“What about a raid?”

Azura 7, 732

Midnight, the mayhem hour.

Cekiya, Sir Ewen and Goreg, and Sir Aeomund and Petros, crept up the north side of the dark escarpment. Cekiya moved in daringly close to the gate, but the warriors kept to the west, hoping to use the Peonian cemetery as cover once they crossed the wall. Their goal was to infiltrate the Verdreth camp and wreak as much havoc as possible, perhaps eliminating some of the enemy leadership. It seemed a long shot, but Ewen trusted in Cekiya’s abilities, and was, at this point, ready to try anything.


Cekiya found herself facing six soldiers along her sector of the wall. She drew one of her throwing daggers and coated it was foul, bile-white poison. Not a dozen feet away stood her ignorant target. With a flick of her arm, she slung the blade good and true, right into his right cheek. He crumpled to the ground.

Cekiya jumped the wall and checked to make sure her prey was dead, then collected the dagger. With a bit of strain, she deposited the corpse on the far side of the wall, and proceeded into the camp.

There were not many tents, considering. A half-dozen identical canvas circular tents, arranged facing into a ring. As she approached, she could see guards in the interior circle. At least three, somewhat relaxed. All tent openings faced inwards. The ordinary foot soldiers were sleeping rough in rows next to them. Where would Verdreth and his captains be?


Meanwhile, the knights found themselves approaching the wall. Despite their best efforts, Sir Aeomund and Petros sounded like a traveling carnival. To make matter worse, the squire tripped and hit his head on a rock, knocking himself unconscious. Sir Aeomund had no choice but to push on. He climbed over the wall – only to find a sentry turning toward him.

Thinking fast, the knight whispered “Hey! Dotton’s wife takes callers at night!”

“Durlum?” replied the guard.

“Yea!”

“Where you been, man?”

“Told you! The teamster’s wife! I gotta go!”

“Pass!”

And Aeomund was inside the camp, making his way through the cemetery and encountering none of the living.


Ewen and Goreg were making good progress on the lower slopes of the escarpment until Goreg stubbed his toe and let out a small, reflexive cry.

“What’s that?” said a voice at the wall.

“Aw, it’s just a goat.”

Too much luck.

The mistaken sentries continued to chat as the knight and squire got closer. Ewen reached the wall and gestured for Goreg, behind him, to stop. He unleashed his power at the closer soldier. The man let out a grunt-a grunt of surprise? No, he fell forward into the arms of his compatriot. Ewen vaulted the wall, sword drawn.

Goreg saw one man collapse, with a grunt. He did not understand what he saw. It was strange, though.

Ewen swung at the other sentry, striking him in the shoulder, rending a great gap down to his heart. Both men were dead. Ewen deposited the bodies over the wall. Goreg joined his master, and they entered the cemetery.


Cekiya crouched at the outside of the ring of tents, listening carefully. She could hear nothing. Candles glowed within each one. She slipped into the closest.

She found three well-dressed men sitting on camp stools, laughing. They showed no surprise at her entrance.

“Did you bring ale?” one said.

“How many do you need?”

“Three! Ah, these peasants!”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Very good.”

As she left, she overheard “For a camp follower, she’s not too bad. You should take her.”

Nearby stood a guard, regarding her with snicker. “I’m getting them ale,” she said to him. “I was supposed to bring ale to the Baron first. I don’t know where he is.”

“Girl, you must be completely stupid,” he replied.

“I think that was why I was put in charge of just ale.”

The guard seemed content with that. “Well, you know, I know where the ale is.”

“Do you know where the Baron is?”

“We can work something out. Let me show you.”

“I know where the ale is. I need to know where the Baron is.”

She followed the guard. They walked around to the shadow side of the temple, dark even in the night. Her escort suddenly turned, groped her, and said “So, let’s talk about that ale.”

Cekiya tried to grab him, but her assailant was surprisingly quick – and disturbed to find a ordinary wench so adept at hand-to-hand combat. Sweeping her down onto her back, he had an arm on throat and a dagger to her breast.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the ale girl, and I don’t like to be touched. Touching bad.”

The guard seemed confused. “I think we should be talking to some of the knights. C’mon!”

He brought her up slowly, knife at the ready, and led her off towards the temple doors.


Sir Aeomund boldly strode through the camp. Now that he was within the guarded perimeter, everyone assumed he was supposed to be there. How now could he create the most damage?

The stables. Of course.

The knight oriented himself towards the structure just beyond the temple, and quickened his pace.


Sir Ewen and Goreg also took advantage of the utter normalcy of their presence within the camp. Ewen spotted Aeomund proceeding towards the stables, and decided to try the temple. As they approached, the doors, they could see Cekeiya being forced into the building at knifepoint by a soldier. They waited until the guard got her inside, then followed.

“Stick with me, Goreg. And do watch your footing!”

“Yes, sir.”

Inside the nave of the temple stood several alert guards. “I thought this one was a ale girl, but she seems suspicious,” said Cekiya’s captor. “Perhaps Sir Anzarn would like to interrogate her personally.”

“Yes, I think so,” replied one of the soldiers.

At the same time, Sir Ewen and Goreg had made their way inside. This time it was Sir Ewen stubbed his toe.

“Gyahh!”

The guards looked up. Cekiya took the opportunity to draw one of her hidden daggers, and plant it in her captor’s chest.

“Shit,” the man said, before toppling to the flagstones.

“I meant to do that!” Ewen announced, and sent his Power at one of the other guards, felling him. Goreg charged the third man. The guard pulled up his shield and exposed his left thigh, allowing Goreg to slice his leg to the bone. Blood spurted over the sacred space. The guard grasped his thigh, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed. Cekiya finished off her foe. Sir Ewen tried to Read his brain in the last moments of his life.

Where is the Baron?

Here, along with Sir Anzarn and others. Above the nave, in the quarters usually reserved for visiting dignitaries, where Rhys of Hew formerly lodged.

The information acquired, Ewen let the man die.


Aeomund made it to the stables, and was greeted by the Verdreth ostlers.

“Who are you?”

“I am Sir Aeomund, of the Lady of Paladins. Who are you?”

They gave two names. Aeomund paid attention to neither.

“Are you going to open the door, or leave me out in the rain all night?”

“We didn’t know you were here.”

“This matter concerns both state and church. Why else would I be here?”

“Yes, sir! What can we do for you?”

“I’ve come to get a horse.”

Sir Aeomund, under pretext of inspecting the mounts, went from stall to stall driving nails or bits of debris into their hooves. This tactic would not harm the horses, but did make it impossible for them to proceed at faster than a slow walk, incapacitating them for the next day’s battle. The ostlers stood ignorant by the door, unable to question the behavior of this most noble knight their better.


In the temple, Cekiya, Sir Ewen, and Goreg found a symmetrical pair of staircases leading upwards from the nave. Cekiya took one side, Sir Ewen and Goreg the other. They saw the guard simultaneously, and he them.

“Alarum! Alarum!” the guard shouted. Ewen tried to subdue him with Power, but failed, falling backwards into his squire’s arms. Cekiya used more corporeal methods, moving in and slipping her dagger around the guard’s shield. With a fit of horror, the man’s life bled out his face.

But his alarm had been given. Out from the middle room of the hallway sprang a knight—bearing a sword and wearing armor, but with no shield or helm.

“Who are you?” he said.

“Touching bad,” Cekiya replied. “No ale.”

“You have done well to get this far!”

The knight slashed at Cekiya, who nimbly dodged the blow. Goreg was unable to do anything but support his master. Cekiya attacked, was blocked.

“Go help her!” Ewen ordered his squire, slumping against the wall.

Goreg drew and advanced on this knight who was obviously much more skilled than he. He swung, the blade connected – and the enemy’s blade shattered, leaving a jutting half-sword.

Cekiya kicked out against the man’s hand, and the broker sword went flying across the corridor. In a moment of confusion, Goreg slashed at their foe, but the knight dodged. He drew his second weapon, a dagger.

Ewen shook his head furiously, cleaning away the wool in his brain from the failed magic. He wanted to get in the door from which the man had come, but the fight was in the way. “Cekiya, press him!” he ordered.

Cekiya closed with the man, intimate as any dancers. She pushed him down the hall, past the door. Goreg put in another strike. There was no room for the knight to dodge now, and Goreg inflicted a small wound on the right shoulder.

Ewen kicked his way into the room. This chamber held rich furnishings: an immense bed, elaborate tapestries, fine chairs around a table. The plump Baron stood in his nightclothes, a dagger in hand, a silver goblet spilled on the floor.

“You didn’t wait until dawn,” Verdreth said.

“I enjoyed the jocularity so much I came back for more.”

“Touché, Sir Ewen.”

Such were the last words of the Baron of Ternua. Sir Ewen raised his sword and gave the man the justice of the King of Kaldor.

The knight must have suspected the fate of his lord, for he began to shout desperately “Ternua! Ternua!”

“Kill them all!” shouts Cekiya, responding with her own loyalty.

The knight began to thrash, scored a hit on Goreg’s upper arm, swung wildly at Cekiya. Blow and counterblow filled the narrow corridor. Cekiya managed to inflict a minor wound on his right hip.

Sir Ewen and Sir Anzarn Verdreth entered the hall at the same time, and each other was the first thing they saw. They smashed together. Anzarn made a hit on Sir Ewen’s thorax, but his fine armor absorbed it.

In his thrashing, the knight left his unprotected head open. Cekiya brought her dagger down right into the top of his skull. Blood rivered out the man’s orifices, soaking his surcoat.

Seeing his man dead, Sir Anzarn put up his sword. “Sir Ewen, certainly we can come to an agreement,” he said in a silken voice.

Sir Ewen demonstrated the only agreement he was willing to make. The line of Verdreth expired on the second floor of the Peonian temple.

“Cekiya, get their heads.”

The gory trophies were thrown into a pillowcase. Cekiya grabbed the Baron’s silver cup; Goreg the knight’s dagger. They encountered no one as they ran out the temple to the stables.

Sir Aeomund, having finished his task and selected one horse on which to escape, was somewhat surprised to see them. The party made their way to the southern gate, through it, and returned to Ewen’s camp. Petros was already there, his head bleeding where he had struck it on the rock. Baris was nowhere to be seen.

An altogether profitable night.


Dawn rose on the desolation of the House of Verdreth.

Sir Ewen and his party of parley returned to the wall, the same spot they had approached the day before. The sentries seemed much more nervous this time.

“We demand to speak to your lords, for terms of capitulation.”

“Can-can you give us a minute?”

“Absolutely.”

A long while later, a group of knights appeared at the wall – on foot. One of them moved a little in front, appearing to be their leader.

“I am Sir Ewen Ravinargh. I bear a writ giving me possession of this keep. I understand that until very recently, this force was commanded by two traitors. I further understand that this is no longer an impediment to your capitulation. Who are you?”

The lead knight spoke up.

“Sir Ewen, I am the leader of our band in absence of his lordship and heir.”

“You forget yourself, sir. You have no lord.”

The knights cringed at that. “Do … do you know where their heads are?” they stammered.

Ewen did not deign to reply.

Eventually the lead knight regained his voice. “We are between a king and a hard place. I am Sir Ambric Pulgarty, Lord of Galvin.”

“You are of good kindred, Sir Ambric.”

“I would like to think so, Sir Ewen. I have been deputized by the knights of the manors of the barony of Ternua. We are prepared to fight. But we are also prepared to recognize that our lord is dead, right or wrong.”

“Sir Ambric, we have no quarrel.”

“In that case: is it true that you hold a writ from the King, granting you control of this barony?”

“I do, and it is in effect until the King should choose to bestow this barony on the person of his pleasure.”

The knights crawled over the wall and approached the parley troop. One by one, they lowered themselves to their knees on the damp grass.

“In that case, Sir Ewen, we are your men. We surrender, and greet you as lord, if not baron, of Ternua.”

“Holy shit!” exclaimed one of the Blue Boars in Ewen’s escort.

Ewen bade his new retainers rise. “Honorably said. I accept the fealty offered by you and your men. I trust you will accompany me to the keep.”

As they proceed to the Caer Ternua, Ewen learned the names of his new retainers, all knights:

Ambric Pulgarty, Lord of Galven
Welcris Labiera, heir of Duvonel
Droga Browetern, Lord of Galaston
Lors Pulgarty, Bailiff of Fessio and heir of Galven
Baran Meleken, Bailiff of Mossen
Aspin Martaryne, Lord of Rudwyn
Olamund Arwat, Lord of Xerl
Jell Roykenek, Bailiff of Yal
Tuvalon Darjuin, heir of Yarlan

As Sir Ewen and his new entourage approached the keep, the garrison emerged to greet them. Dickon approached with a twist of a smile on his face, shaking his head. “You fall not far from the tree!” Then he too went down on one knee before Ewen. “I hold this castle in your name, my lord.”

“You have acquitted yourself splendidly, Dickon.”

The entire garrison was now spread out at the foot of the tower, yet Aeomund still saw soldiers manning the battlements. “We had arms and armor for another company so we made straw decoys, and placed them where the enemy could see.” Dickon explained.

The morning went on. The expected bloodshed had been averted; a festive atmosphere was in the air.

“Ho!” cried a watchman atop the keep, pointing northeast.

A cloud of dust surged through the town, a troop of cavalry, pennants waving and horns blaring. At their head rode a knight in a great helm shaped like a boar, sword drawn and bellowing.

“We’re here for the battle!” cried Sir Baris.
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Matt
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