Fort Bolgaz, nighttime, eve of the new annum
Aengus peeked behind the door, into the hallway. Helen had been keeping her breath steady, but she was breathing right next to his ear, and Aengus couldn't be sure how loud they were.
The hall looked empty. A servant might walk in to dim the torches, but Aengus saw none, and the longer they stood waiting, the more time there was for someone to discover Helen missing from her quarters.
He pushed the door open. It creaked, and the sound echoed in the small hallway. Aengus flinched, but no-one came.
“Quick,” he whispered, as went down the hallway as fast as his fat old body could manage. Helen, being stronger than some of the men at court, had no trouble keeping up. Aengus lead her down the hallway to another door, which made another creak on opening. He quickly shut it behind him. The door lead outside, where snowfall and night wind had created a frostscape over the stables and livery. Outside the livery, a cloaked servant sat in the driver's seat of a supply cart. The cart itself contained a number of barrels and crates, covered by a tarp. One such crate was empty.
Helen turned to look down at Aengus. He was of average height, but Helen stood at six feet, towering over him. “Thank you,” she said in a voice just above a whisper, “When what is rightfully mine comes to me, I shall not forget what you have done today.”
Aengus frowned. “Hold it, lass. I told you, I ain't doing this to support you. The way you've been whining, you'd think God himself came down and told you to take the crown.”
“He might well have. Do I not deserve it? Does it say in the writs that the eldest son inherits everything? No, it is written the eldest child shall inherit all that belongs to the Overlord. The throne is my divine right.”
“Listen to yourself! Lass, 'ye think anyone cares whose arse keeps the throne warm in these times? Aye, 'yer cause is just. Aye, 'ye may attract some starry-eyed knights to your banner. But the Lords don't want an Overlord, much less a lady-one. They all want to be kings and queens of their own. And right now, everyone's got war on their mind. The only thing you'll get for 'yer trouble is a slit throat.”
Helen scoffed. “If you do not support my rightful claim, why are you helping me?”
“To fulfil the vow I gave your father.”
Helen was silent. Aengus tried to keep his face hard, and brow furrowed, but he could feel his eyes getting wet, and the moonlight must have shown it. Helen leaned down, and kissed Aengus on the forehead. “You've been like a father to me, every step of my life. I thank you.”
Aengus nodded. It took him some effort to keep from sobbing. “Keep yourself safe,” he managed to say clearly. Helen nodded back, and made her way to the supply cart. The servant hid her in the empty crate, and after making sure she was secure, set the horse off on the path to the main gate.
Aengus wiped the tears and snot from his face, and went inside the stables, to the enclosure of a certain horse. It was one of Helen's finest horses, a purebred, jet-black stallion. She had planned to use it in tourneys and sport. Aengus took a cloth dressing that some of the horses put over their barding, to identify them during tourneys, and dressed it over the horse. It looked a little ridiculous, and would certainly stand-out, but it was necessary. It took some cajoling, but the horse was steady enough, and Aengus mounted it, bidding it down the path toward the gate.
The guards gave no resistance to either of them. They hadn't seen anything, as far as their extra wine rations were concerned.
~*~
Fort Bolgaz, the Waiting Season, 1st day of the new annum
It was morning. Aengus trod down the hallway to the war room's door. A guard hailed him.
“Welcome back,” the guard said, before drawing a jingling keychain from his belt, and unlocking the door. Aengus nodded curtly, and walked in. The guard shoved the door shut behind him, and lock's turn clicked.
The room seemed smaller than it was in the last meeting. The windows had been boarded with wooden planks. Only the light of a dozen torches kept the room lit. Most of the room's shelves had been removed, with their documents scattered on the floor, or stacked on tables. Aengus made a quick mental tab of what needed to be re-organized.
Most of the room's tables had also been removed, save for the round centre table at which they always sat. Seated there were Uthred, Theodore, Constantine, and Arthur.
“Sorry, mates,” said Aengus as he took his chair, “The accounts needed attention.”
“The accounts needed attention?” said Theodore, placing emphasis on each word. “I can tell you what the accounts are right now: a pile of rancid butter, a smelling hogshank, and enough copper an hour with a Pentiloch doxy.”
Arthur, who was sitting across on the table, leaned forward. Though his right eye was covered with a leather patch, and his lips were kept stiff, his brow curled, and his face was tense, suggesting the meeting had perhaps been going on for some time.
“We were in the midst of discussing whether to end our contract with the mercenaries,” said Arthur. “We had promised to pay them at a reduced rate last annum, in exchange for markers of debt. And as we all know, you did not heed our advice to renege on the payment, and paid them their markers from our latest collection of dues. Given our latest look at the accounts, we assume we will be unable to pay both the mercenaries and our levies, but we were waiting on your opinion to make the matter final.”
“Waiting on him? Hah!” cried Uthred, “We'll take out a loan from one of the banks. Our armies must be at full strength to meet the enemy at Country Castle! God knows Helen might be riding to them right now, to sell our secrets to the enemy!” Uthred slammed a fist on the table. His veins bulged from his thick neck.
Everyone turned to Aengus, who sighed deeply. “Theodore's comment weren't too far from true. With the raising of 4,000 men from the township, paying off the mercenaries, and dealing expenses, we can nay keep our army as-is. As Uthred said, we could take out a loan, but that'd be ill-advised. And the Church ain't helpin anyone in an election. Not since it took Innocent an annum to get his pasty, wrinkled ass on that seat.”
“A loan ill-advised?! The hell it is! This is war, and the enemy is rampaging through our land! What example do we set to others if all we do is cower in our keep?”
“We're broke. 'Ye can nay talk your way out of poverty. And if'n we take a loan, it supposes we win all rosey-faced. Suppose we don't?”
“To hell with you! We'll take out the loan, and I'll our armies to victory against the Host! We'll avenge our late Overlord!”
“Uthred,” spoke Arthur, “Aengus is the steward of the realm. Finance is his business. Perhaps we should heed his advice.”
“And I am the Marshal of the Realm! War is my business! Perhaps you should heed my advice!” he banged his fist against the table once again. Theodore, Arthur, and Aengus all had mixed reactions of exasperation and fear. Constantine, as he always did, leaned back in his chair and said nothing. There was a moment of silence, save the torches, and Uthred's panting, as his fury had brought spittle to his lips. “We gather the men and mercenaries, and ride to meet the enemy tomorrow. And if I hear any complaints, you'll be executed for treason!”
Uthred pushed out of his chair, knocking it backward to the floor, and stormed out of the room. The room's silence continued, until those present were sure Uthred was out of earshot.
“What did I miss?” said Aengus.
“The routine,” replied Theodore. “God knows why we have these meetings.”
Aengus buried his hands in his face. “Do any of 'ye know where Rone be?”
“The dining hall, I believe. Something about his sis-”
Aengus got up from his chair, and left the room before he could finish the thought.
~*~
Actions of House Trisch -
- March all raised levies toward Country Castle in fief of Falkwreath Country. The journey will take 132 hours [approx. 5 days ]. 3,000 mercenaries stationed in Falkwreath Township will join the force later, and march with them.
- Dispatch Head Ambassador Davic Melrose to Brindlay, to discuss a loan with the Bank of Sennev.
- Have a bounty posted on the capture and return of Princess Helen, alive. The reward will be set at 10,000 bullis.
The Game Begins. . .
- The Bogan's Host has arrived in Everfallow, and are marching toward Country Castle in Falkwreath Country. Scouting reports have been spotty, but it can be said with some certainty that the force numbers 8,000 men, 1,000 of which are on horse. Their intentions are unclear, but they will likely reach Falkwreath Country in about 18 hours.
- Princess Helen has been indited for treason by Marshal Uthred. She had been attempting to assert to members of court that she was the rightful heir to the throne, not her younger brother Rone. She fled Bolgaz during the night, shortly after Uthred had called for her arrest. As a purebred black stallion was missing from the fortress stables the morning after, it was likely the mount she took to aid in her escape. Her current whereabouts are unknown.
- Several more fleets of Bogan mercenaries have been headed for Lundland, perhaps to reinforce the host, but perhaps also to simply take advantage of the land's weakness. Two fleets have been spotted: one headed for the southern coast, with reports numbering between eight to ten large ships, and one headed for the far northern peninsula, the lands of House Vasa, which reports suggest to number between nine to eleven large ships. The former will likely reach the coast in a mere week's time, while the latter will reach its destination in three weeks.
- As if to throw salt in the wounds, several tribes of Giants are now moving toward Lundland from the East. Three hosts have been spotted; the first has been suggested to be between 1,000 and 2,000 strong from reports of peasants who have seen them, many of which are horsemen. They are moving quickly, and this have already arrived in the fief of Cardyff. They seem to be moving ahead, however, following the path from Aberwytch to Giant's Bane. The second host is lagging behind, headed for the north of Wealas. It is unclear exactly where they are headed, but they are assumed to be numbered between 3,000 and 4,000. The third host appears to be moving south, toward Aaldoreanfeald. They number between 2,000 and 3,000. The first host is likely to arrive in 10 to 12 days time. The second perhaps in a mere week, and the third in a fortnight.
- Archbishop Innocent III was elected, and blessed into his office the eve of the new annum. The election lasted an entire annum, but at last the Bishop of Daisyfield was chosen, with the Bishop of Luke Church being a close contender. Now the office of Bishop of Daisyfield is vacant, and the Church Electorate convenes once again to decide who shall be raised to the Flowered Monastery.
- The conflict for Mishfarden has heated from smoulders to flames. In a surprising move, the Ordained has moved its considerable garrison from one of its most strategically placed fortresses to join a marching army, perhaps hoping to catch the Baccans by surprise in the winter. The Baccans have been attempting to besiege the fortress with little success, and the spirit of the besiegers is beginning to break, so this daring move may bring a great victory to the Ordained, and turn the tides of war in their favour.
- Abd al-Aziz, the youngest son of Emir Dasalin al-Malik of the Baccan-Mishfarden Marches, has recently lost his one wife. The Emir is displeased; he does not want his son to take on any of the currently available daughters in the Empire, due to grudges, but he does not want his son to marry some court concubine either. It is rumoured he is looking for an unorthodox marriage between one of the lords or merchant families of the Ordained Kingdom, perhaps due to the recent actions of the enemy.
Aengus peeked behind the door, into the hallway. Helen had been keeping her breath steady, but she was breathing right next to his ear, and Aengus couldn't be sure how loud they were.
The hall looked empty. A servant might walk in to dim the torches, but Aengus saw none, and the longer they stood waiting, the more time there was for someone to discover Helen missing from her quarters.
He pushed the door open. It creaked, and the sound echoed in the small hallway. Aengus flinched, but no-one came.
“Quick,” he whispered, as went down the hallway as fast as his fat old body could manage. Helen, being stronger than some of the men at court, had no trouble keeping up. Aengus lead her down the hallway to another door, which made another creak on opening. He quickly shut it behind him. The door lead outside, where snowfall and night wind had created a frostscape over the stables and livery. Outside the livery, a cloaked servant sat in the driver's seat of a supply cart. The cart itself contained a number of barrels and crates, covered by a tarp. One such crate was empty.
Helen turned to look down at Aengus. He was of average height, but Helen stood at six feet, towering over him. “Thank you,” she said in a voice just above a whisper, “When what is rightfully mine comes to me, I shall not forget what you have done today.”
Aengus frowned. “Hold it, lass. I told you, I ain't doing this to support you. The way you've been whining, you'd think God himself came down and told you to take the crown.”
“He might well have. Do I not deserve it? Does it say in the writs that the eldest son inherits everything? No, it is written the eldest child shall inherit all that belongs to the Overlord. The throne is my divine right.”
“Listen to yourself! Lass, 'ye think anyone cares whose arse keeps the throne warm in these times? Aye, 'yer cause is just. Aye, 'ye may attract some starry-eyed knights to your banner. But the Lords don't want an Overlord, much less a lady-one. They all want to be kings and queens of their own. And right now, everyone's got war on their mind. The only thing you'll get for 'yer trouble is a slit throat.”
Helen scoffed. “If you do not support my rightful claim, why are you helping me?”
“To fulfil the vow I gave your father.”
Helen was silent. Aengus tried to keep his face hard, and brow furrowed, but he could feel his eyes getting wet, and the moonlight must have shown it. Helen leaned down, and kissed Aengus on the forehead. “You've been like a father to me, every step of my life. I thank you.”
Aengus nodded. It took him some effort to keep from sobbing. “Keep yourself safe,” he managed to say clearly. Helen nodded back, and made her way to the supply cart. The servant hid her in the empty crate, and after making sure she was secure, set the horse off on the path to the main gate.
Aengus wiped the tears and snot from his face, and went inside the stables, to the enclosure of a certain horse. It was one of Helen's finest horses, a purebred, jet-black stallion. She had planned to use it in tourneys and sport. Aengus took a cloth dressing that some of the horses put over their barding, to identify them during tourneys, and dressed it over the horse. It looked a little ridiculous, and would certainly stand-out, but it was necessary. It took some cajoling, but the horse was steady enough, and Aengus mounted it, bidding it down the path toward the gate.
The guards gave no resistance to either of them. They hadn't seen anything, as far as their extra wine rations were concerned.
~*~
Fort Bolgaz, the Waiting Season, 1st day of the new annum
It was morning. Aengus trod down the hallway to the war room's door. A guard hailed him.
“Welcome back,” the guard said, before drawing a jingling keychain from his belt, and unlocking the door. Aengus nodded curtly, and walked in. The guard shoved the door shut behind him, and lock's turn clicked.
The room seemed smaller than it was in the last meeting. The windows had been boarded with wooden planks. Only the light of a dozen torches kept the room lit. Most of the room's shelves had been removed, with their documents scattered on the floor, or stacked on tables. Aengus made a quick mental tab of what needed to be re-organized.
Most of the room's tables had also been removed, save for the round centre table at which they always sat. Seated there were Uthred, Theodore, Constantine, and Arthur.
“Sorry, mates,” said Aengus as he took his chair, “The accounts needed attention.”
“The accounts needed attention?” said Theodore, placing emphasis on each word. “I can tell you what the accounts are right now: a pile of rancid butter, a smelling hogshank, and enough copper an hour with a Pentiloch doxy.”
Arthur, who was sitting across on the table, leaned forward. Though his right eye was covered with a leather patch, and his lips were kept stiff, his brow curled, and his face was tense, suggesting the meeting had perhaps been going on for some time.
“We were in the midst of discussing whether to end our contract with the mercenaries,” said Arthur. “We had promised to pay them at a reduced rate last annum, in exchange for markers of debt. And as we all know, you did not heed our advice to renege on the payment, and paid them their markers from our latest collection of dues. Given our latest look at the accounts, we assume we will be unable to pay both the mercenaries and our levies, but we were waiting on your opinion to make the matter final.”
“Waiting on him? Hah!” cried Uthred, “We'll take out a loan from one of the banks. Our armies must be at full strength to meet the enemy at Country Castle! God knows Helen might be riding to them right now, to sell our secrets to the enemy!” Uthred slammed a fist on the table. His veins bulged from his thick neck.
Everyone turned to Aengus, who sighed deeply. “Theodore's comment weren't too far from true. With the raising of 4,000 men from the township, paying off the mercenaries, and dealing expenses, we can nay keep our army as-is. As Uthred said, we could take out a loan, but that'd be ill-advised. And the Church ain't helpin anyone in an election. Not since it took Innocent an annum to get his pasty, wrinkled ass on that seat.”
“A loan ill-advised?! The hell it is! This is war, and the enemy is rampaging through our land! What example do we set to others if all we do is cower in our keep?”
“We're broke. 'Ye can nay talk your way out of poverty. And if'n we take a loan, it supposes we win all rosey-faced. Suppose we don't?”
“To hell with you! We'll take out the loan, and I'll our armies to victory against the Host! We'll avenge our late Overlord!”
“Uthred,” spoke Arthur, “Aengus is the steward of the realm. Finance is his business. Perhaps we should heed his advice.”
“And I am the Marshal of the Realm! War is my business! Perhaps you should heed my advice!” he banged his fist against the table once again. Theodore, Arthur, and Aengus all had mixed reactions of exasperation and fear. Constantine, as he always did, leaned back in his chair and said nothing. There was a moment of silence, save the torches, and Uthred's panting, as his fury had brought spittle to his lips. “We gather the men and mercenaries, and ride to meet the enemy tomorrow. And if I hear any complaints, you'll be executed for treason!”
Uthred pushed out of his chair, knocking it backward to the floor, and stormed out of the room. The room's silence continued, until those present were sure Uthred was out of earshot.
“What did I miss?” said Aengus.
“The routine,” replied Theodore. “God knows why we have these meetings.”
Aengus buried his hands in his face. “Do any of 'ye know where Rone be?”
“The dining hall, I believe. Something about his sis-”
Aengus got up from his chair, and left the room before he could finish the thought.
~*~
Actions of House Trisch -
- March all raised levies toward Country Castle in fief of Falkwreath Country. The journey will take 132 hours [approx. 5 days ]. 3,000 mercenaries stationed in Falkwreath Township will join the force later, and march with them.
- Dispatch Head Ambassador Davic Melrose to Brindlay, to discuss a loan with the Bank of Sennev.
- Have a bounty posted on the capture and return of Princess Helen, alive. The reward will be set at 10,000 bullis.
The Game Begins. . .
- The Bogan's Host has arrived in Everfallow, and are marching toward Country Castle in Falkwreath Country. Scouting reports have been spotty, but it can be said with some certainty that the force numbers 8,000 men, 1,000 of which are on horse. Their intentions are unclear, but they will likely reach Falkwreath Country in about 18 hours.
- Princess Helen has been indited for treason by Marshal Uthred. She had been attempting to assert to members of court that she was the rightful heir to the throne, not her younger brother Rone. She fled Bolgaz during the night, shortly after Uthred had called for her arrest. As a purebred black stallion was missing from the fortress stables the morning after, it was likely the mount she took to aid in her escape. Her current whereabouts are unknown.
- Several more fleets of Bogan mercenaries have been headed for Lundland, perhaps to reinforce the host, but perhaps also to simply take advantage of the land's weakness. Two fleets have been spotted: one headed for the southern coast, with reports numbering between eight to ten large ships, and one headed for the far northern peninsula, the lands of House Vasa, which reports suggest to number between nine to eleven large ships. The former will likely reach the coast in a mere week's time, while the latter will reach its destination in three weeks.
- As if to throw salt in the wounds, several tribes of Giants are now moving toward Lundland from the East. Three hosts have been spotted; the first has been suggested to be between 1,000 and 2,000 strong from reports of peasants who have seen them, many of which are horsemen. They are moving quickly, and this have already arrived in the fief of Cardyff. They seem to be moving ahead, however, following the path from Aberwytch to Giant's Bane. The second host is lagging behind, headed for the north of Wealas. It is unclear exactly where they are headed, but they are assumed to be numbered between 3,000 and 4,000. The third host appears to be moving south, toward Aaldoreanfeald. They number between 2,000 and 3,000. The first host is likely to arrive in 10 to 12 days time. The second perhaps in a mere week, and the third in a fortnight.
- Archbishop Innocent III was elected, and blessed into his office the eve of the new annum. The election lasted an entire annum, but at last the Bishop of Daisyfield was chosen, with the Bishop of Luke Church being a close contender. Now the office of Bishop of Daisyfield is vacant, and the Church Electorate convenes once again to decide who shall be raised to the Flowered Monastery.
- The conflict for Mishfarden has heated from smoulders to flames. In a surprising move, the Ordained has moved its considerable garrison from one of its most strategically placed fortresses to join a marching army, perhaps hoping to catch the Baccans by surprise in the winter. The Baccans have been attempting to besiege the fortress with little success, and the spirit of the besiegers is beginning to break, so this daring move may bring a great victory to the Ordained, and turn the tides of war in their favour.
- Abd al-Aziz, the youngest son of Emir Dasalin al-Malik of the Baccan-Mishfarden Marches, has recently lost his one wife. The Emir is displeased; he does not want his son to take on any of the currently available daughters in the Empire, due to grudges, but he does not want his son to marry some court concubine either. It is rumoured he is looking for an unorthodox marriage between one of the lords or merchant families of the Ordained Kingdom, perhaps due to the recent actions of the enemy.
