Session One Hundred and Nineteen - May 9, 2015

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

Session One Hundred and Nineteen - May 9, 2015

Postby Matt » Sat Dec 12, 2015 12:14 pm

Azura 7 ,732

The weather of the day matched the mood of the feudal lords of Ternua. What had started as a Verdreth bid to reclaim their ancestral seat, turned in to the end of their male line, the humiliation of the lands nobles, and a defeated army that never made it to battle; for the second time. The light rain matched their collective moods while they sat and waited on the pleasure of the one who now held their feudal obligation, Sir Ewen Ravinargh, First Knight of Kaldor, and bearer of the King’s writ for Ternua.

By midday the party had rested after their night’s work and had held a quick council bring all the participants up to speed on the last day’s events. Sir Baris’s ego was assuaged by morning ale, the fact that though he arrived later than expected, and there was also no battle from which he was absent.

“So Sir Baris, were you engaged in teaching the light horse the fine art of lunging? We expected to see you earlier,” opined the bearded knight of the Order of the Lady of Paladins.

“The ride was long, done at night, and no one knew of my coming to prepare for the trip. The task was not as simple as falling over a waist high stone wall Sir Æomund,” replied the knight between sips of midmorning ale.

“Enough.” Sir Ewen’s eye twitched as he sat in council with his retainers.

“I suffered the jocularity of Verdreth, I have no stomach for anymore today.”

The knights nodded at the rebuke.

“Our position is improved, but we still have work and decisions to be made Sir Ewen.” Sir Æomund again launched into his argument to move the focus of their forces and their operations to Ternua. The argument at this point was old, even though the events of last night had not long ago transpired.

“In due time. That course of action may become more clear as the day wanes. First I have to deal with Verdreth’s retainers and his ‘army’.” Replied the calculating knight.

“You plan to improve the defenses here in Ternua is approved;” he continued. “The ease in which we infiltrated the hilltop last night convinces me that improvements need to be made. Dickon will hold the keep and we will see if these army at my doorstep can be put to some kind of effective use. That shall be your task today Sir Æomund.”

“Goreg, though new to my service I want you to take the light horse, Captain Thorp is their commander. Make a reconnaissance north of the Nephen river, get a lay of the land, and see what you can find. Sir Æomund has a map, take a look at it before you go and keep an eye out to filling in the ‘Here Be Dragons’ portions of it.”

“Sir Baris and Mistress Kaelyn, ride for Varayne and return with the supplies that Lady Afaewynn has prepared for us.”

“First however I will meet with the knights of Ternua. I want you all present in the hall for this meeting.”

In a short time the hall of the castle was cleared and prepared for the audience. Sir Ewen taking the seat of the keep’s former lord signaled to his men to usher in the knights.

At his signal a herd of some nine knights were ushered into the hall. The knot of men again ejected Sir Ambric Pulgarty forward as their spokesman.

“Sir Ambric, I trust that you and your fellows have found some refreshment. It would be most helpful to me if you would detail the events that led to your arrival here. I am somewhat surprised that the Baron was no longer the guest of the King?”

Some shuffling and mumbling occurred among the knot of men in the hall until Sir Ambric spoke.

“You have to understand that the Baron didn’t exactly confide in us his circumstances. He was, we were told, very loosely under house arrest in Ternua House. The Baron decided he wanted to go for a stroll I suppose and left.”

“When precisely did this occur?”

Sir Ambric looked to his colleagues who provided no help at all, refusing event to meet his gaze.

“Well…. ahhhh .”

“Today is the 7th Sir Ambric.”

“Sometime around the 26th or the 27th I believe.”

“And that stroll led him here.”

“Well he knew the way. And well, the army, the one he gathered ... well for Olokand, was still pretty much in the field. Under arms as it were. Stationed at Galven.”

“And who was in charge of this burden of men while the Baron was absent?”

“Well it fell to me Sir Ewen, though I did not find it a burden.”

“To move the story along perhaps you could pick up at the end of the Baron’s stroll. I am trying to make this as easy as possible for you. What was the movement of troops?”

“Well, they didn’t all travel together. Ahh, about half was uhm sent ahead, and the other part followed.”

Sir Ewen pointedly took a sip from the Baron’s silver goblet that was recovered along with his head the night before.

“Then we all went to Yal. Just not all at the same time. Really in two groups.”

“And this is where Sir Jell comes in?”

There was a cough from the knot of men, “Me?”

Sir Ewen cocked his head and spoke to the room, “Where is the map?”

“Here, Sir Ewen.” The bearded knight rolled his most recent work onto the table.

“Well it’s up the road, along the Nephen,” said Sir Jell waving his hand over the map.

Sir Ambric attempting to be helpful hovers over the document “And Galven is …”

“Galven is near the manor of my father Sir Ewen,” opined the squire Goreg.

Sir Ewen, shakes his head and waves the two knights away from his map.

“Were you hunting in Varayne to feed the troops?”

Sir Ambric chuckled, “Feed the men venison Sir Ewen? Not likely!”

This caused a general nervous laughter among the knot of knights.

Sir Ewen just nodded, this now confirmed that the other soldiers that were spotted near his holding at Varayne were not Verdreth troops. Another army it appeared was on the move.

Sir Æomund eyed the knot of knights, “Perhaps you should speak to Sir Ambric alone?”

The First Knight of Kaldor spoke squarely to Sir Ambric, “I had my fill of sophistry yesterday. Speak plainly.”

“Yes, there was another body of troops moving other than ours. They were heading north while we were moving south.”

“The nature of their arms?”

Sir Ambric again looks to his companions for help, but receives none. “Well they didn’t have any banners flying, but we have reason to believe that they were troops of the Earl of Osel.”

“That wasn’t so hard now was it Sir Ambric. I have decided that the Baron and his late son will be interred here in Ternua, among the bones of their ancestors. While those two were perhaps the weakest part, their line was long and honorable. You may pay your respects when they are interred later today. You and your men will remain here at Ternua. My knights and commanders have their orders, you will obey their requests as if they came from me. You were good knights and true to your lord, despite his own failings. I am not here to punish you for that obedience. Each man will remain in honor with his men and I expect your loyalty to me as the bearer of the King’s Writ for Ternua.” Sir Ewen waved his hand.

The knights recognizing the dismissal bowed and exited the hall quietly.

Dickon, standing to the side addressed his lord when the others had left.

“Sir Ewen, what should be done with the prisoners?”

The calculating knight arched his eyebrow, “Whom do you have?”

“All of them. The household staff, a mouthy old man, and the garrison.”

“Was the mouthy old man Pulgarty?”

“He has a name, but I did not care to know it.”

“Well keep him there and release the rest. If they choose to stay their pay will be reinstated, or they may choose to leave.”

“And the death of the Baron?”

“Yes, let them know that they are dead and their service will now be to me or they may remove themselves from the keep.”

Sir Ewen looked at his inner council nodded to them as a group. Each left the hall to be about the business that had been assigned them.

The calculating knight looked about him at the hall of the once proud house of Verdreth. While his possession was not permanent, he did have the only legal holding of the keep, and an army to back it up. Now he had a castle, and two heads to go with it.

“Um, Sir Ewen, lord? Are you Sir Ewen?”

The reverie of the knight was broken by a young man now standing in the hall. He had been day dreaming longer than he though, or Dickon had been exceptionally quick with freeing the servants.

“I am.”

“Rhys of Hew is here to see you lord.”

The knight nods to the young man, who stands there staring at him. Sir Ewen watches the sweat bead on his head and then begin to roll. Enjoying the minor moment of the man’s imbecilic discomfiture he relents.

“You can send him in. That’s what the nod meant. It is customary for visitors to come to me and not the other way around.”

The youth nodded vigorously and then departed. He was soon replaced by the Peonian priest, Rhys of Hew.

“Sir Ewen, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

The knight nodded and absently tossed his hand, “Hullo.”

“I asked to see Mistress Kaelyn, but was informed that she had departed.”

“Yes.”

“Well I asked for you instead; the bodies of the Baron and Sir Anzarn are ready.”

“Very well, inter them in the crypt of their fathers.”

“They were nominally Laranians.”

“Yes.”

“Well there is no Laranian chaplain, unless you brought one.”

“I do have a knight of the Lady of the Paladins here with me.”

“Well I suppose that would be better than if I did it. Liturgical niceties and all that.”

“I’ll have a servant summon Sir Æomund, but I’ll give the knights who served them a chance to pay their respects along with a brief ceremony.”

“Have you opened the crypts?”

“No, should we open them first?”

“Well, probably best to not have any surprises.”

“Yes, perhaps we should go look. Together.”

The Squire spurred his horse ahead down the rutted lane. Though recently come to Sir Ewen’s service Goreg already found himself at the head of an armed band of men patrolling the countryside. His mind raced as all the maxims and rules of war he had heard and memorized as he squired for just such this moment. He tried to sit high in the saddle, held his reins with ease and tried to look confident and in charge of the string of riders behind him.

The mounted party first arrived in Yal, a small fortified manor close to Ternua. Learning the name of the place and whereabouts of the local alewife the squire leads his party in that direction.

“Captain.”

“Squire,” came the short clipped answer from Captain Thorp, the leader of the light horse squadron.

“It is important that we care for the horse and men. Let’s stop here for a rest and a drink, while I inquire of the Alewife.”

“The men have no chinkers for such luxuries Squire.”

“I shall manage it for them Captain.”

“Very well Squire,” Captain Thorp responded with a hidden smile, wondered how long it would take his men to drink the squire dry if they stayed too long.

The company rode up the house of the alewife and Goreg quickly dismounted and pounded on the door.

“Wife, ah alewife, drinks for my men!”

The florid face of a woman quickly appeared behind the door, with a quickly soundless counting she determined the number of drinks and the cost to be paid and ducked back inside.

Within moments the riders, some mounted, some on foot, were slaking their thirst on ale while the alewife held her hand out to the squire.

“Welcome to Yal Lord. I be Maglin of Dal, a pleasure to be at you service and that of your men.”

Captain Thorp wiped his chin with the back of his hand, several of his men already motioning the alewife for another round, “He’s no lord, not yet anyway. He’s a squire.”

“Yes. Squire to Sir Ewen Ravinargh, First Knight of Kaldor, and rightful steward of Ternua at the pleasure of the King, Haldan III. Now, are we the only soldiers that have come through here?”

The woman seemed unphased at all the names that she was just assaulted with, “Bah, lords no. There were men camped here for days. It was quite a darg keeping them aled up but not dangerous to the womenfolk.”

“Really? Who were they and where did they go?”

“Well … some went one way, some another, some towards the river. But those fellows were probably lost.

“MORE ALE!”

Goreg turned in his saddle and quickly recognized his dilemma. While he had thought to be generous and considerate of his men's needs he suddenly realized that this could quickly turn into a debauch.

“This is a one ale stop Captain Thorp.”

“As you say Squire.”

At the declaration that there would be limited business transacted the woman’s demeanor changed, “Are you one of those featherheaded felly’s who rides around swinging that flatchet at other people’s noggins? Look at you with your strap of iron and your questions.”

Goreg looked quizzically at the woman trying to work out what she had just said to him.

“I am a squire in the service of ...”

“You should be in a field doing honest work young man. I’m telling you to put that business away and take to a field as Peoni intended you. Not to ride around with armed men looking for trouble.”

“Yes, well my father is …”

While he spoke he noticed that the men were shelling out coins of their own for more ale.

“Captain, get the men moving.”

“Squire. They just got another ale,” the older man sighed audibly, “Alright lads, take them with you.”

Containers of various sorts were produced and the alewife set about charging the men and dispensing her wares into whatever the men had that would hold it long enough to drink it.

Goreg frowned at the men either greedily downing their ale or secreting it away for later such as is each one’s want. The company of horse is quickly on the road again and makes their way to another small hamlet.

Not wishing to allow for a repeat of the last stop Goreg inquires of a man along the road.
“You there, what place is this.”

“Nephel.”

“Who is lord here?”

“The King of Kaldor.”

The squire sighed and tried again, “Who is the lord of Nephel.”

“Oh, that’s Sir Bendas.”

“Have any soldiers come through here?”

“Yes, sir. From time to time.”

From beside Goreg the captain spoke up, “He isn’t a Sir, he’s a squire.”

Goreg ignored him, “Have they come through in recent days?”

“Probably, there have been strangers about.”

“Where were they going?”

“I have no idea. I mind my own business. I’m no flag-fallen lay about – I have work to do!”

Goreg sat up in his saddle and pointed down the road and having no further patience in this hamlet either took the road.

Turning away from the river the band after a time arrived at another manor, this one too was fortified to a degree. Goreg not wishing to engage in anymore repartee with the peasants scanned the village for a church and headed in that direction.

There is a small stone church, with an adjoining fenced cemetery. Dismounting the squire called out.

His hail was quickly answered by a leathered looking woman soiled from toiling in a yard. After several minutes of talk Goreg is able to learn that he was now in Duvonel Manor, Sir Bendas Labiera’s fief, but heard of no troops. Making a small donation the company then rode on.

Around dusk the troop arrived at yet another fortified manor. Seeing another church and hoping for the same success. Goreg made his way to the church and hallooed again for a priest. Hearing no response he hailed a man in a field who waved and put his head back down to work. Casting about again the young man saw a milkmaid drawing water from a nearby well.

Jerking the reins he trotted up with the men behind him.

“Hullo good lass, what village is this?”

“Who are you calling good?”

Exasperated the squire pulls up his horse and turns to Captain Thorp, who appears unphased and uncaring as to their inability to gather information.

“Captain, make a circle and rest the men here for the night.”

The man coughed into his hand and pointed at the manor house, “Squire, not to question your orders bit is that wise to do in sight of the manor house?”

Goreg starred at the man and them motioned for the band to follow him up to the house.

The manor house was much in keeping with the styles they had already encountered, and the gate was open as they rode up. No sooner had they passed the gate then a voice was heard.

“Who goes there?”

“I am Goreg Ocazer, squire of a noble knight. May I speak to your lord?”

There is a hesitation but an answer is forthcoming, “Uh, wait right here.”

From an outbuilding appears another man who watches the armed men while leaning against a post.

“Not from here are ye?”

“No I serve my master Sir Ewen Ravinargh.”

“Interesting, interesting …”

Within moments another man appears. He is dressed simply but does bear a sword on his hip.

“I am Sir Pelson Haquinta. What brings you here?”

“I am the squire of Sir Ewen Ravinargh, the First Knight of Kaldor, my name is Goreg Ocazer.”

“Are you a relation of Sir Minster?”

Goreg visibly brightened, “Yes, he is my father.”

“How old was he, nine, when he had you? What are you doing here?”

The crest fallen squire responded, “We were in the neighborhood.”

“Neighborhood? I am tired of armies traipsing across my land. Be gone with you!”

“I agree with you entirely.”

“Well … I am glad you agree.”

“Who was here?”

“See more questions. Get gone, stop eating my food, wandering my lands, and fucking my peasants – get out!”

“What is the name of the place I am getting thrown out of?”

“If I tell you will you leave? This is SIGNY now get the fuck out!”

“Yes sir, Thank you. Captain, lead the men out.”

Not looking at the knight, the captain, or the men Goreg leaves the manner until he finds a spot suitable for the men to camp for the night. In clipped tones he details the security he wants for the camp and grabbing his blanket reflects on the outcome of his first foray at command.

The rest of the day was not so uneventful in Ternua.

Sir Ewen, Father Rhys of Hew, and Cekiya together headed into the crypts of Ternua Keep.

The three impromptu companions made their way into the Verdreth crypt. Much was as they expected once the door was opened; crypts were stacked on two opposite sides of the walls to house the Barons of Ternua into the ancient past. The group also discovered an ossuary, where the less titled scions of the house had been put to rest.

Two things were of an immediate interest to the new steward of the keep. One of them were two small chests that contained the amassed wealth of Ternua, and the second was one of the crypt seals which the already bore the name of the most recently deceased Baron.

After a brief inspection of the bags of coins the First Knight of Kaldor turned his attention to the sealed crypt. The sealing stone was mortared and firmly placed on the grooves. Seeing that muscle alone would not avail them, the knight sent Cekiya for a pry bar. The priest remained.

“The coin was a mild surprise Father, but what do you think lies in a sealed tomb named for a baron who has not been dead yet a day?”

“I do not know Sir Ewen, I was never in this part of the keep.”

“Of course,” replied the knight.

In a moment the girl and the pry bar had returned. As the two men watched the lithe girl attempted to work the stone free. Sir Ewen impatiently tapped his foot, while the priest seemed to be idly musing on the other occupied crypts.

“Well?” said the knight.

“The night key won’t move the death bed door.”

With a sigh the knight stepped forward and grabbed the iron bar himself. Finding a crack the knight heaved and attempted to gain some leverage.

There was a sudden crack as the stone shifted and began to fall from its mortised position. The wispy girl attempted to both catch the stone and move out of the way. The sudden noise and movement shocked the priest into action as he too tried to catch the stone. There was a sudden silence as the stone thudded to the ground. The crypt was silent again for a moment and then there was a piercing scream from the priest. Looking down the calculating knight saw that the priest’s hand was pinned between the stone and the ground. Sparing the man a momentary look the knight peered into the crypt to see what looked to be an ornate locked chest. Giving it a thump he quickly surmised that it was not empty and while wondering if he could drag the chest out was again recalled to the priest as another scream escaped him.

Reaching down to the pry bar the First Knight of Kaldor easily shifted the stone off of the priest. Both the girl and the knight took a moments curiosity to stare at the mangled hand and the now passed out form of the priest.

Sir Ewen spared another moment to bend is mind to pry into the deep reaches of the priest’s thoughts while the girl marveled at the contorted mass of bone and flesh that clearly looked like it would never function correctly again. Finding no guile in the man, other than a sinful weakness for pork sausage, Sir Ewen returned to the chest.

Hauling it to the edge the calculating knight determined that it was indeed locked. Unlike the other chests that opened with the Steward’s keys, this lock, set internally into the chest itself, would not open. Seeing nothing more inside the knight returned to the prone man. The two hoisted up the priest and dragged him upstairs.

Once they reached the top Sir Ewen saw Dickon and one other of his men waiting. As they neared the top the two men grabbed the limp form of the priest and dragged him onto a bench.

“Did he talk lord?”

“He sang like a Peonian lark on a feast day. See to him.”

The two men laughed and then attempted to wake the priest and wrap his hand.

A cold bucket of water later the dripping priest opened his eyes and then bit back a scream. Syrup of the poppy was produced in a glass of wine and was unceremoniously poured down the priest’s throat.

“Good job Father, you saved the girl,” said the knight when the priest’s eyes began to look coherent again.

“I did?”

“Indeed, if it was not for your timely and quick action she would have been crushed. Do you not remember?”

“Ahh yes, the stone cracked and I caught the stone. I think.”

“You quick action saved the life of the girl father, at the cost of your hand it would appear.”

“My hand …” said the priest with half a whimper.

The calculating knight was finished with the priest, his thoughts brought back to the chest in the crypt.

“See the Father back to the chapel, and no one is to go down those stairs until I return.”

“As you wish my lord,” replied Dickon.

The knight and the girl quickly exited the keep on the way to the Peonian chapel that shared a place on the crown of the hill. Spotting Sir Æomund as they walked the current lord of Ternua waved him over, but continued his stride towards the chapel.

“Sir Æomund , you will be providing a service for the former Baron and his son. We have no Laranian clergy here.”

“As you say Sir Ewen.”

“Also, the priest has been incapacitated due to an accident, I may need your help with an errand. Leave the stockade project to another.”

“Yes, Sir Ewen,” responded the bearded knight.

The three companions made their way into the chapel and after exchanging small talk with the acolyte there, and reporting the recent injury of Father Rhys, they made their way to the two headless corpses. Two small bundles at the foot of the dead bodies contained all of the material remains of the two dead nobles. Suffering no bout of conscious Sir Ewen yanked the burial shroud from each to insure that they had been thoroughly stripped and searched, as well as washed and prepared.
“We found the ring and key on a chain, my lord. Both were attached at rather a delicate position upon the person of the Baron. Uh, former Baron,” mumbled the acolyte.

“Indeed. I will be taking their personal effects to the keep. Have the bodies delivered this evening for a quick burial. Sir Æomund will perform the ritual. Send me a bill for the cost.”

“This is a spiritual rite Sir Ewen, in terms of money …”

“Send the cost to the keep. Have them delivered this evening. Father Rhys will require some care, send me a bill for that as well.”

Feeling as though matters within the Temple of Peoni were completed the knight turned and left, trailing his two companions behind him.

As the three exited the church Sir Æomund mumbled, “Very generous my lord. I wonder what the bill will be.”

“It will be paid with other people’s money Sir Æomund, and it was your idea that we bury them instead of mounting their limbs on the four corners of the keep.”

“You have commanded that I perform a rite, and I will, but the tenets of my faith are not very supportive of the most recent actions of the Verdreth family …”

“I did not want to hear about the religious rites of the Peoni today, and nor do I care to hear yours. Perform a ceremony and let that be the end of it.”

“Yes, my lord.” The bearded knight was silent on the matter. His head a few moments before was full of numbers and angles as he had attempted to explain and train the men in the construction of the stockade. A funeral rite for two traitorous liege-betraying bastards was not how he had expected to end his day and his mood began to match that of his liege lord.

The two knights and the dark shadow of the girl made their way back into the keep and descended into the crypt. The bearded knight’s sharp eyes first noticed the fresh blood stain on the floor. Cekiya smiled as he did so.

“Surprises in the dead place! It was a two handed catch, but the flower priest only used one.”

Sir Æomund made a quick survey of the room and ossuary, for the second time in a day he used his engineering skills to determine the structure of the rooms and any additions that might have been concealed. Finding none, he returned to Sir Ewen.

“The walls seem sound with no concealed openings.”

“There is a chest here Sir Æomund, and I am guessing that this is the key. Fetch it out with me and let’s see what secret the Baron has to tell us in death.”

The chest was easily dragged from the crypt and placed upon the floor. Both men noticed that the locking mechanism was quite expertly crafted but the key turned soundlessly and the chest opened.

The two knights looked upon a mass of wealth in the form of coins, cups, and plate. The other two chests were surely the money of the holding, but here was the wealth of the Verdreth clan that the Baron risked the ire of the King to have returned to him.

The First Knight of Kaldor smiled and shut the lid, “Other people’s money is the best kind to spend Sir Æomund. Let’s move this chest and the others into the ossuary for now and lock the door.”

Later that evening the headless corpses had been placed in their crypts and a small collection of knights stood in observance. Several candles illuminated the room and though small they sufficed to drive the dampness from the air a bit. The bearded knight of Larani composed himself and began the burial service for the Baron. He tried to go through the proper forms for the man, and though the words came to him they felt hollow and weak even in his own mind. Here was the last Baron of Ternua, a traitor to his King, a coward on the battlefield, and a failure at war. Sir Æomund proceeded to follow the forms for the son as well. He could not shake the feeling that the two men did not deserve the service for their deeds and he also believed that they were more than half Peonian in practice. The liege knights departed the crypt, but Sir Æomund remained, reflecting on the service.

A part of him wanted to rip the bodies from their crypt and toss them in the river, but he had done his lord’s will as is fitting and proper. In the silence of the crypt a disquiet troubled his heart. He reflected on the fact that devotion to the Shieldmaiden was largely a pursuit of the entitled. Few of the common folk worshiped her, few sought her protection in travel. There was a sickness in his heart as he reflected on the observance of the faith around him.

Petros recalled him from his reverie, “Sir Æomund, is there something you require?”

The candles had burned low in the crypt and the knight realized that he had been there sometime, with his squire patiently waiting.

“No. Thank you Petros. Come, let us leave this sorry tomb and reflect on how to better serve our faith so we do not meet their fate.”

The knight left the crypt to see one of Dickon’s men waiting for him.

“Sir Æomund, Lord Ewen awaits you in his chamber.”

The knight nodded and he made his way alone to see his lord. He found the calculating knight reflecting on the objects that once belonged to the Baron and his son. He closed the door behind him as he entered.

“As you know Sir Æomund I have certain abilities.”

“Success in war, married well, and successors on the way as I see it,” replied the bearded knight.

“Yes. Quite. Someone has enchanted or given to the magnates of this realm something that blocks my ability to see them. What do your keen eyes note in these items.”

The knight fingered through the coins looking at their make and vintage, as well as noting any carving or decoration to them and then went on to examine the other items.

“The location and significance of the key is already known, but nothing looks out of place. But if this screen is new and diverse it would make sense to place it on something that the owner already held dear. My guess would be the ring, or the key.”

Sir Ewen nodded and reaching out handled the items. The bearded knight watched him concentrate on each one attempting to read things that were not visible to the naked eye. A few moments pasted and the calculating knight shook his head.

“It is well concealed from me if it is here. Thank you Sir Æomund.”

The knight bowed and departed.

Elsewhere in the rainy night the boisterous Sir Baris in the company of Kaelyn entertained himself and his men at an inn on the outskirts of Zutlin Manor.

Azura 8, 732

The day dawned with a gray and pregnant sky. Few had accomplished much before the clouds split and the rain began to fall. Sir Baris sat in his saddle munching on cold pork sausage and drinking ale from a skin that normally hung from his saddle. His hair that appeared beneath the boar helm looked stringy and water logged. Looking towards his companion Kaelyn showed a far different sight. Despite the fact that it had been raining for some time her hair was impeccable, her steed sure footed, and no mud to be found upon her.

“You ride well,” bellowed the knight around grinding bits of pork sausage.

“Magic.” Came the one word response.

Sir Baris stopped chewing, “Can you do that for all of us?”

“No.”

The knight frowned shaking the rain from his brow and continued to sup in the saddle as the rain continued to pour.

When the company finally made it to Varayne Manor they saw that Lady Afaewynn had not been idle. As ordered the wagons and the food supplies were ready to be moved to Ternua. Clearly she had been alerted to their arrival because she stood in the yard with Captain Rolloch as they rode in.

Mistress Kaelyn rode straight to her, “The men that have been spotted in the woods are presumed to be Osel’s men. They were not part of the company at Ternua.”

The lady inclined her head slightly to Rolloch.

“Did you hear that?”

“No milady.”

She sighed audibly, “Do we have men out that way?”

“No milady, because of your previous orders,” replied the stoic captain.

“Then let’s send some.”
Sir Baris dismounted and pounded Rolloch on the shoulder.

“Good job, fine work Captain Rolloch. Don’t worry about Ternua, there was no battle so neither of us missed anything of note.” The knight inclined his head to Lady Afaewynn and continued.

“All right all you guys with me get the wagons ready to go. It’s a long way to go with these things and the road will be no better later. Rolloch, do you think I need a rain cover for this helmet?”

The armed man shrugged at the question.

“Right, then no one would know it was me from a distance. Sir Baris’s helm needs no rain cover! Kaelyn, let’s go the ground under your horse is starting to dry.” With a roguish grin the knight spun his horse and plodded as fast as he could out of the yard. The three remaining people were now spattered with mud from the knight’s departure.

Elsewhere in the woods of the region was Goreg. The squire wrung the water out of his hat before placing it back on his head. The men were mounted and ready to move and Captain Thorp was by his side.

“Captain, we will keep to the road today. Someone else is out here, we need to find them or determine what is going on.”

“As you say squire.”

The party of men make their way along the road for a time heading west. Soon the road forked and it was only through the skill of the squire that the party chose a path that lead to another manor.

Learning from the previous day’s experience Goreg realized that there are no guards on the walls as they had previously seen. The group sees men working in the field and the squire rides towards them with a firmer tone than the one he had yesterday.

“Take me to your lord.”

“We have no lord, but we do have a Reeve.”

Not wishing to bandy words with the people of the fields again, “Very well, take me to him then. Captain, break the men.”

“Is that wise squire?”

Goreg eyed the captain but realized he needed to temper his attitude, never to be all soft or all hard. “Very well. Do as you see fit, I’ll return shortly.”

The Captain Thorp nodded to the young man and then pointed at several of his men. “You two, go with Squire Goreg, and stay out of trouble. Everyone else, check your girth and be ready to ride.”

The young squire noticed that the two men jumped to obey the commands of their captain, however he also noticed that ‘check your girth’ was some code word among the company for the others proceeded to dismount to relieve themselves or to swig ale from secreted bottles. Either way, the men stayed in the vicinity of their horses and presented at least a form of readiness.

The man in the field led Goreg to the where he could find the reeve. The man stood slightly hunched from a twisted back, but his eyes were clear and strong.

“I am Goreg, squire of Sir Ewen Ravinargh, Lord of Ternua.”

The man sucked his teeth, “Always the last to know I am. My name is Hask, my lord is Kaery Valador of Zutlin Manor.”

“We are patrolling these lands …”

“Patrolling!? You presume to patrol the lands of Lord Valador?”

“We heard that there were bandits about.”

“Bandits? Perhaps it’s the bandits that I am looking at. You ride under neither the name of the Sheriff or the lord of these lands, take your and your featherheaded band back at to Genin trail and ask my lord these questions.”
Goreg eyed Hask the Reeve, but felt the weight of the sword at his side. “Should you seek the protection of my lord in the future, show greater courtesy.”

The squire wheeled his horse around and looking to the Genin trail was just able to see a caravan of wagons coming into view. Mustering his men, he made to intercept.

Sir Baris watched as the riders formed and headed in his direction. He reached into his saddle bag and grabbed another apple, taking a solid bite out of it. Sir Baris recognized the horsemen that he had led out of Selepan and waved to them. He saw the overly formal salute of the squire and heard him hail Sir Baris.

“How far out were you before you recognized the helmet?”

“Quite far lord!” was the quick reply of one of the mounted men Sir Baris had meant on the night ride to Ternua.

“Ha! I knew it! The rain cover was a bad idea. Goreg, take your men and scout out the road ahead. If you see any large bodies of men let me know.”

“WE shall attack, Sir Baris,” replied the squire.

“Well send one back to tell me! Baris of the Boar-helm won’t miss a battle.”

The squire smiled and spurred his horse off down the road. Captain Thorp looked after the squire and then to Sir Baris. He thought it would have been better to help secure the wagon train, but Sir Baris had approved of the plan. He nodded to the knight, “Yes Sir Baris. We will meet you in Ternua.”

“You’ll know me by my helm Captain Thorp!”

“Or by the ridiculously slow wagon train,” mumbled Mistress Kaelyn.

The morning at Ternua keep was a busy one. Sir Æomund outlined the method and means of construction for the stockade. He was busy in the morning sectioning off portions of the wall for each of the companies to work on, dictating how the wall was to be constructed and identifying and assigning men who knew the shaping of wood to oversee their section of the stockade subject to his final approval. Content that the work was underway he explored the river bank and the cliff side of the hill. Accompanied by Petros he sought any concealed entry or exit from the keep and whether or not there was a spot to secret a boat along the river. Unfolding his map he determined that a boat from Tashal would take about ten hours to reach Ternua. The knight filed the fact away and returned to the keep only to be summoned by Sir Ewen.

Sir Ewen sat in what he was now using as his private quarters. He closed his eyes and focused on the Earl of Osel, only to be rebuffed by the warbling sound. Trying again he instead focused on Sir Kornuska, victor of the recent tourney. He saw clearly in his mind’s eye the knight astride his horse. He was overseeing the tilting of soldiers against straw targets and conversing with an unknown knight.

“How long are we going to have to sit by this fucking river?”

“If only it were a river, more like a piss stream.”

A knock at his door disturbed him and he welcomed Sir Æomund into his room. The two knights discussed the particulars of the army that they had assembled and how it was to be managed and tried to divine who was loyal to who and what portions of the army could be relied upon for which assignments. The servants had all agreed to remain in service already. Ultimately it was decided to send for the two captains of the companies of Ternua, one of longbowmen and another of medium foot, who then reported to the hall.

“I would like to speak to the specifics of your situation now that the Baron and his heir are in the crypt.”

“A great tragedy,” voiced one of the men.

The calculating First Knight of Kaldor didn’t miss a beat, “The kingdom always grieves at such a loss. I understand this leaves your men unprovided for? I would like to provide you both the opportunity to be provided for under the terms that you are accustomed, I promise that I will honor any agreement we would come to.”

The two men looked at each other quickly and then one spoke. It was obvious to the knights that they had discussed among themselves who would speak at this meeting. The heavier armored man spoke.

“You speak good and true. You have the right of it, we held our loyalty to the Baron, but now he is dead. As is that loyalty. We, ahum, are men of Ternua, but we are practical men. We haf no nithe for you now that he is wickered. If yurns holds to us as the Baron did, a good laird and true, we will ‘sheart to yun in return. We will stand, in thick and thin, as true as any spit-frog with a banner of his own.”

Sir Ewen gave his thin smile to the men, “Well spoke. Do you agree with him as well?”

“I dun.”

“Well my captains, let us talk specifics.”

The footman spoke deliberately and clearly, “The arrangements are simple, bed and board, and it comes out even to 40d a month for the footmen and 60d a month for the bowmen. Those who yerd with steel don’t need as much to make it happen as do the goose pluckers.”

“When were you last paid?”

“Agrazhar, and a month in advance. If you were to consider Azura unpaid …”

“I would remedy that.”

“I ‘sheart to yurn banner Laird. I shall swear if you catch my meaning Laird.”

The silent partner then spoke, “One moment more, would we swear to the Lord of Ternua or to Lord Ravinargh?”
Sir Æomund nodded at the astute comment, the captain of the bowmen was the wiser man for remaining silent at first. This was a captain he would have to get to know more of.

The calculating knight responded blithely, “I would have you as my men rather as the men of Ternua.”

The bowman nodded, “May we discuss lord?”

The First Knight of Kaldor nodded and the two men retired and spoke quietly a moment.

The footman was again the first to speak, “We hear and respect yurn lordship and hope yun do the same for us. We served as men of Ternua, to change that, to leave our bellibone’s an’ beds on command we don’t know … If the pay were increased half again we would say aye.”

Sir Ewen waved his hand, “I am not one to quibble.”

Sir Æomund spoke at last, “You will be responsible for keeping your companies at their current size, any increase would be approved by Sir Ewen, and any new men recruited to your companies would be accepted only on your vouchsafe and after the questioning of one of Sir Ewen’s knights.”

The two men nodded at the bearded knights words.

“I appreciate the prudence and diligence of all my retainers. I gladly accept you and look forward to your future service.”

“We are pleased of yurn lordship, we shall assemble to ‘sheart at your command.”

The early evening in Ternua was full of partial affairs. The two companies of men swore loyalty to Sir Ewen in the yard outside of Ternua Keep. The ceremony was held in plain view of the rest of the camp Sir Æomund was not remiss in making sure that the vassal knights just happened to be in the area when it occurred. The men swore the oath and cheered again when Sir Ewen had the men issued a couple of oath pence each. Their cheers were not the only ones as the Blue Boars were also assembled and extended for two more months with Sir Ewen retaining first refusal for any time after that.

Sir Ewen was not given much respite in the evening. After the oath ceremonies he had scarcely returned to the hall when his squire arrived.

“Goreg, how fared you?”

The squire bowed at the waist, “We found nothing, but there were some interesting clues.”

“Men live and die on clues.”

The First Knight of Kaldor received the report his squire and dismissed him to refresh himself from the journey. In his wake Dickon approached.

“Sir, I understand that you have taken the loyalty of two companies of the Baron’s troops.”

“Yes.”

“I was wondering what you wanted to do with the garrison of the keep?”

“What is your reading of these men?”

“Well, I couldn’t say, I clapped them in the dungeon soon enough. I could drill them and see how they measure up.”

“Hmmm, yes. Break them up so they are not all together and see where their skills lie.”

“I shall. Also, the man with the big mouth Pulgarty, he seems very intent on being released.”

“Plug his mouth then.”

The man smiled, “I have been waiting for just the right reason to try out that dunk tank. I think I have found it my lord.”

Around nightfall the wagon train in the company of Sir Baris and Mistress Kaelyn arrived at the keep having passed the day quietly but slowly along the Genin Trail.

The companions took a meal together and afterwards Sir Ewen, Cekiya, and Mistress Kaelyn assembled. The three placed the former effects of the Baron and his son on the table and each used their arts and skills to divine if there was anything special about any of the objects. All three were rebuffed and the esoteric arts provided no further insight.

Azura 9, 732

Early before dawn the bearded night awoke from a deep sleep to completely awake.

“Æomund Sir,” said a small voice within the room.

“Yes.”

“No need for a pyre.”

The knight laughed a full deep laugh thinking of his parting words to the huntress Kittiara from several days ago. “I yet live.”

“I am pleased.”

“News from the North?”

“There is.”

“On the Miona, lies an Army.”

“How large is it?” asked the knight.

“A whole village beyond Varayne.”

The knight changed his manner of questioning for the Bujoc woman, “How many fires?”

“I can count the fires on my hands and feet and on your hand Æomund sir.”

“How many riders of horses?”

“Few horses.”

“Will they move soon?”

“No such sign.”

“You have done well, very well to find that which others could not.”

“I do not need to light a pyre.”

“The weave of this skein has not yet played out.”

“Æomund Sir speaks opaque.”

“I live, Kittiara, I still yet live.”

Sometime later the bearded knight left the woman in his room and made his way to the chamber of his lord. He knocked and when he heard him inquire he spoke through the door.

“The army has been found my lord.”
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Matt
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