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    1. Bikriki 10 yrs ago

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I'm sure it'd be more efficient to just sent an envoy directly to Fiona herself to ask for a meeting, cause the troops themself might miss Solterra's ones.
Huh, I've been trying to guess your timezone for a while, but this board doesn't lend itself to easily for that.

They'll be turning tail back to Bolgaz, and I imagine House Vearin will be making the trek there as well.


Yeah, I guess I could have done that immediately in the Harvest, but I felt that was an OOC dickmove due to the season change approaching, and hence possibly messing up the chronology.
BATTLE OF GOLDENFIELDS
[Co-Credit goes to the awesome Flooby Badoop]

Breath in.

Breath out.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Praise the holy maiden, for Princess Helen was fated to be on Lady Fiona side. Queen Fiona, actually, as some of her people started calling her. Correct in the matters of law and custom, but she could not help but feel slightly suffocated whenever someone – even in most solemn respect – addressed her as "Queen". The last person of Diratania to style themself King was Nicolas II, her uncle and childless brother of her late father. Domnall considered the title of a King to be inappropiate for a vassal serving the Overlord. He didn't made any official changes though, because some did believe that he had the right to be called King, as the Overlord himself was less of a King, and more the "King of Kings".

One way or the other, Fiona could not but feel uncomfortable with such a title. Less so because of her position as a vassal, but more because it just felt "not right". A proper king or queen did not spend her days contemplating her melancholic disposition, growing an old and achey soul when the body was both young and fresh. She said to her trusted marshal, Phillip of Bellaudi (which curiously enough was a house that didn't reside in Bellaudi for generations) that only by standing up and fighting for the lives of her Diratania she would earn the rightful title as Queen.

Well, there they were now, and Phillip reminded her of her words by spreading it through the men. Perhaps she should feel secure now, given the seeming trust her people had, but she did not feel as if she was up to the challenge of co-leading an army. She got an education, in the tent's, word's, and sword's way, yet there was a vast difference between dry wood and dry paper and an actual battle on the horizon.

The warmth of the Growing season was sorely missed by the less-thickly armoured troops as they march toward Goldenfields. The weather was overcast, the air was cold, and a chilly wind passed through occasionally.

Phillip of Bellaudi led the Norraine Division from the front, alongside Princess Helen, Lady Fiona, and her husband Lord Donald. The pendants and banners of House Vearin waved proudly in the wind, and the troops marched at a steady pace. Many had mixed looks of dread and excitement. Lady Helen's presence was quite large, both physically and in her demeanor, but she curiously conversed with the soliers as if they were her equal, making boisterous and bawdy jokes. The soldiers felt comfortable around her, and Fiona heard them talk to her in a way they have never done in her dignified presence.

"It's an honour to go to battle with you,"

"If we die today, I will have considered my life well-spent to have fought in your company!"

"We'll put you on the throne, you'll see."

"It's a shame you were born a woman; you carry yourself with more manhood than any man I've met!"

After a day of marching, the army spotted a force on the horizon. The soldiers started to take position, but Phillip gestured for them to stop.

"It's alright!" he yelled, "It is the mercenaries we have hired!"

And indeed, he was right. As they approached, their appearance could be made out clearly: men in full plate, painted jet black, and waving a dozen different pendants. Some men had clearly painted words on their armour and pendants: "War is my life" "Burn," "Maim," "Kill," "Death!"

The Robber Knights.

A rider with a dark blue-plumed basinet helmet, bestride an armoured jet-black destrier, rode toward Phillip.

"Captain Anduin?" asked Phillip.

"Aye. We're ready." the man said in a hoarse voice, muted by his helmet.

"They call you The Bodyburner. Is it true what they say? You burn your enemies alive?"

"Everyone's got hobbies. Mine are money, death, and fire. In that order."

"That is good. You will have plenty of all three, fighting for us."

A few feet away from Captain Anduin and Phillip stood Donald and Fiona, observing the mercenaries. He leaned over to his wive.

"These are really the guys you both decided to hire?"

She didn't respond for a while, just watching the two men overthere interacting. Donald interpreted this as her formulating a response, and indeed, after a few seconds she tilted her head to his side.

"I should get a nice hobby as well, don't you agree?"

He hoped this was an example of her sharp tongue, and not an approval of burning people alive.

It takes some time more before they reached Goldenfields, but thankfully, the land of the Barleycorns are very flat, so there were no uphill climbs. Upon arriving in Goldenfields, however, they came upon a horrifying sight.

A massive force surrounded Castle Goldenfields, all bearing the banners of La Famiglia de Meaux. From what they could gather, Fiona counted up the forces: roughly 200 Knights, twice as much Horsemen, 1,000 Swordsmen, circa 700 to 800 Longbows, and maybe 2000 pikes. In the distance, four dozen Trebuchets flung great boulders at the castle. The force was just standing 500 meters away from Vearin's army. Her own army was just 1350 men strong.

She looked for the forces of House Barleycorn, and spotted many men on top of the parapets of the castle. It seemed House Barleycorn has decided to hole up inside their castle, which would mean their full levy would be there.

Lastly, she look for the forces of House Stoat. About 1,000 Metres from Vearin, they spotted a large camp, with pale green and brown pendants flying over it. It looked as though this were House Stoat's force. An envoy was sent over to them, and it wass confirmed that their whole levy was ready in the camp.

Rone's forces had already spotted them, but they occupied an entrenched camp surrounding Castle Goldenfields, which was a circular trench 120 metres long. Their forces were spread about this trench, save for the trebuchets, which were placed 100 metres behind the trench, and were guarded by all the Knights in the force.

The troops looked at Fiona, awaiting their orders.

Breath in.

Breath out.

Breath in.

Breath out.

"You there." She talked at one of the knights.

"Try and see if there is some way to contact the besieged Barleycorn's. If you can get into the stronghold, deliver my order for them to leave the castle and attack with all their might once the trebuchets stop firing."

She went to another one.

"Send a message to Stoat's camp. Their troops should merge with ours at this point. We shall organize ourself as one force then."

The envoys embarked, and Fiona glanced over to see whether Phillip had any reaction. Something that told Fiona whether she did "good" or "bad". None of that, alas.

The forces became one, and Alduin's Black K nights as well as the Stoat Hunters led the charge as cavalry while the infantry slowly followed them. Fiona ordered them to battle with the knights guarding the trebuchets. She felt that this was of the highest priority, and she hoped she was right. Princess Helen chose to take charge of the Norraine Divisions Horsemen. Fiona considered telling her to stay back for the sake of safety, but she knew Helen enough to know the futility of such a request.

The Vearin Cavalry reached Rone's knights, who turned around to fight. The very ground was shaking as if thunder and storm themself were domain not of the sky but of the earth. Then, a louder roar sent shivers down Fiona's skin as she could see part of the Barleycorn's wall fall to the fire of the trebuchets. If they were not fast enough, this siege would be shorter that she would have liked. Unbeknownst to her in that moment, Barleycorn's archer were granted a small victory as their hail of arrows completely destroyed Rone's Longbowmen.

The Stoat Hunters continued to rampage the artillery, shooting volleys at it's operators. She gathered that the enemy knights retreated, but as Fiona came closer, they just went back far enough to catch up with Rone's Horsemen, who were about to battle the cavalry. As the Stoat Hunters were focusing on the trebuchets, they were not properly able to defend themself against the assault. The Knights continued to attack the Stoat Hunters, and that battle was too much. They began to retreat.

Yet Fiona's eyes were focused on Helene riding the Norraine Horsemen and the Black Knights into the enemy cavalry. The Black Knights seemed to break at first, but Helen alone was enough to encourage the Norraine Men to fight with great vigor.

However, the operators of the trebuchets decided that they were outnumbered, and began fleeing. Fiona let out a small sigh of relief as she watched them run, before ordering the infantry to pick up and dispose all the enemy knights that became horseless. The ranged troops were unsure about this, though, as they were afraid they could hit their own men among the mess of the battle. Fortunately though, the melee infantry managed to eliminate the horseless men.

The Black Knights appeared to break completely now. Fiona could hear Helen yelling at them. What exactly was unsure, but Fiona found herself yelling as well. The infantry was ordered to attack the enemy cavalry, but as the enemy saw the Vearin men coming, they began their retreat to the camp. Helen chased after them, and her unit cut down some people, yet it was too small to do much besides eliminating some of the horseless remains.

Fiona gave out the order for all men to regroup. She managed to have the trebuchets cease fire. Even though the Stoat Hunters and the Black Knights fled, it could be said that the battle was going well. Fiona could see Rone's men raising their shield in defence of the Barleycorn's constant arrow barrage, while other men began to dig trenches. She wasn't sure how to see this. For sure was just that the damage that Barleycorn could do would now be decreased significantly.

...

What was she supposed to do now?

They could wait, and see how much Rone's men break in morale, but was that the right choice? Would that not be catastrophical for the tension that propelled her own men towards blood and steel? Yet, charging into the camp... what consequences would that have? She didn't knew.

She didn't knew...

It took her some time to formulate an order. The Stoat's artillery men were to come to the army and ready the trebuchets for potential use. Helen remarked as to the why. Firing the trebuchets might cause causalities among Rone's men, but so could they hit Barleycorn's wall.

"I do not plan to use them right now, but I do plan to keep my options as open as possible."

Half of the truth.

In the following moments, there was just the spark of another plan forming in her head.

No, she couldn't order that. They had no other choice than to charge. Violently, with honour.

The Black Knights regrouped at the edge of the battle, and made their way back to the army. This was good. Uncomfortably good.

The troops were organized so that the ranged infantry were in front, the cavalry behind them, and the infantry were behind them. Fiona waited for the Black Knights to rejoin the force, and began to march onward.

When in range, the Stoat longbowmen launched three volleys at 3 instances into the enemy trench. At 60 metres, the bowmen and crossbowmen started launching their volleys into the pikemen.

To avoid hitting the troops by accident, the Barleycorns had halted their volleys as Vearin advanced. At the moment the forces begia to charge at the enemy trenches, the Barleycorns opened both the southern and northern gates of their castle, and launched an assault on either side of the enemy trench.

The first charge became a brutal slaughter for the Diritanian forces, as the cavalry was slaughtered at the embrace of the enemy pikes, who stood firm in the heat of the charge. From there, it was a brutal slog of men attempting to reach past the enemy pikes, only to be cut down by the enemy swordsmen.

After the first charge was complete, it was clear that nearly the entire Norraine Division and Robber Knights mercenaries had been cut down, with the few who remained in full, panicked retreat. The enemy horsemen, who had managed to regroup, were now cutting down the retreating, wounded, and horseless.

Helen, however, made it into the trenches, along with the forces of House Stoat and House Barleycorn, both of whom had suffered heavy casualties, but were now inside the trenches, and making good work of the pikemen, who were meant more for combat at a distance than close quarters.

The enemy pikemen began to break against the onslaught, then marched into full retreat, allowing the Barleycorns and Stoats to kill or wound nearly all their remainder. All that were left were the enemy swordsmen, whose force grew thinner and thinner, until they too broke into retreat.

As the aftermath was stood over, the enemy was left to scatter in all directions. The enemy horsemen, seeing no recourse from the fight, abandoned the battle.

Helen wiped the blood from her blade, and stood atop the parapets of Castle Goldenfields, cheering the men on over their victory. While the fanfare went on, Lord Donald reported on the casualties.

Of House Vearin's forces, 574 were killed, and 597 were wounded. Those who survived have fled the battle, and are not likely to be seen again.

Of House Stoat, 191 were killed, and 390 were wounded.

Of House Barleycorn, 239 were made horseless, 584 were killed, and 1691 were wounded.

Fiona didn't look at him as he reported, nor did she say a word. She listened, however, and went on to Castle Barleycorn.

The soldiers of Stoat and Barleycorn claimed the spoils of war. Some of them began looting the bodies of the dead, but Fiona cared little about that. Perhaps it would even be right to say that she even thought that they deserved it.

She was about to speak with Lord Jon II, yet before that she turned and looked over the battlefield from the walls.

...Rone was none of these bodies.

Yet.
Don't spend it all at once~
Man, fluff writing this will be so fun
It surprised Lady Fiona in some way, but as it turned out, House Vearin's declaration would not be the only thing of significance that shoved Lundland a few inches closer to the abyss. One way or the other, the amount of messengers arriving at the castle increased incredibly. Fiona's younger sister, Karin would jest (?) to just start building stables especially for the many men bringing her both good and bad news.

Actually, when she thought about that, calling it "moderate and horrible news" would be a statement much closer to the truth. It could be argued that the matters of Helen and her claim were more pressing, so let's start with that. Fiona received many, many letters in response to her bold decision to stand behind Helen. Many- most were negative and malicious, demanding that Fiona sold her honor for the measly price of 10000 bulli. Some were well-meaning though, but cautious. Fiona could understand not immediately rushing to openly aid Vearin, given the rather nasty political climate.

Oh, there was also one letter that was either nonsense or written in some code. Nobody knew what to do with it, so Fiona put it aside. Then there was, of course, the official letter of Marshal Ingen himself. Actually, two letters. He took the time to personally adress her and urge to follow his order. Fiona's steward, Garret Siebert, looked at her as he waited for his liege to formulate a response. He seemed to look puzzled, which caused Fiona to ask him to "Guess her answer".

He guessed correctly; the answer was no. The answer was also delivered without any vulgarities, which was incorrectly guessed.

Of course, such would not be left without consequences, and as all the other lands seemed to descend into chaos, Fiona was one day faced with grave news.

A massive army approached Goldenfields, the capital of her vassal Barleycorn's lands. The army was led by Rone and his knights, but obviously, it could become even worse. The army was marching under the banner of La Famiglia de Meaux, a rich and powerful banking family of the Ordained Kingdom. Fiona cursed him for selling himself out to the foreigners, but even she realized that even if they were to slay Rone, a new enemy would quickly emerge from the south. Despite this, Princess Helen was filled with furious excitement. "First the weird letters, the demands for the arrest, and now it's come to this. I should have known my dear brother wouldn't afford me any quarter! We've already tried reaching out to the other Lords. Now we shall have to see who is truly on my side.

Let us ride, my Lady! Ride to the enemy!"

Thus, they rode.
Everybody's busy dying themself to bother with crusades

Also, A+ for endless optimism
I am most sorry that I have not yet written out my IC-post. While I already have an outline, I have failed to come up with much creative energy in the last days, so that post might get postponed a bit.
I assumed that there were no books due to the whole "early-medieval" setting mentioned somewhere. But then it was also more common for the Lords, especially the surpreme one to wander around the realm to keep everyone in check; so I dunno.
[Co-Credits go to Flooby, some edits have been made to fit the past-tense narrative]

Lately, Lady Fiona has been plagued by headaches. She sleeps a bit worse as well. One figured it was the harshness of the Waiting Season, but even as snow melted and the warm sun brought life back into the lands of Lundland, Fiona's body continued to protest.

Her husband, Lord Donald, son of Ekbarte of Nicland, was not blind this development. A sigh here, some temple-rubbing there, sometimes she even sat in one of her working chambers and just stared at the wall. Not that she was slacking off, though. No, in fact, it would be more true to say that Fiona tried to be as good to her people as possible. She was not a fool, who believed this state of momentary peace would last for much longer. Eventually, war was bound to came, and then she'd have to be ready to protect Lundland.

However, knowing what you wanted did not mean necessarily that you knew how you would get to that goal. Fiona, in the most private moments in the most private places would admit that she wished someone would just descend from the heavens to tell her what to do. Donald would during these moments try to comfort her, say that she is being a splendid ruler and that he would be there to listen and comfort. Sometimes it worked, but sometimes Fiona could just stare back at her dear Donald, as if he told her that trolls occupied their kitchen.

It was a beautiful day when she received that letter, accompanied by a very special guest. She walked in the courtyard of her manor, watching her little sister Karin play with the child of a servant. A little moment, one of these when she was envious of a child's innocent joy. The lieutenant of her patrol guards appeared with a letter, a horse and a red-haired woman. The horse and the woman belonged together, it said, and the Captain of the patrol guard believed her to be Princess Helen – the woman, not the horse, as it was clarified in ink – and urged Fiona to give her shelter.

Fiona didn't need anyone to tell her that. The woman claimed to be Helen was in a terrible condition, starving and cold and dirty. Fiona ordered her servants to prepare bath, food and a chamber fitting for the rightful Overlord. She waited for a few days, and a part – small and insignificant, but there – of her hoped that this woman would not be Helen.

After several days of staying in the castle, the woman who claimed to be Helen regained her strength. Fiona joined her one day for breakfast in the dining hall. The woman's wet clothes had been exchanged for dry servants garments, which fit her well enough. Upon seeing her more closely, it was hard to deny she is Helen: her hair was a bright orange-red, the colour of a Harvest leaf. She stood a little over six feet tall, and even sitting, her height was still noticeable. Her skin was pale, her face freckled, and her eyes big, bright and blue. Her muscles were also visibly toned, and her shoulders quite broad. She certainly wasn't the kind of woman who saunters about a castle all day.

"My Lady," she said with a full mouth. She quickly swallowed her food, and smiled at Fiona. "Good morning. I'll say it again, a thousand times thank you for letting me stay here. It's been a long Waiting season."

"Indeed, it has."

Lady Fiona began to feel small, between her, her husband - who was already a human boulder - and Lady Helen. Fiona imagined she would be more... petite. An idiotic assumption, perhaps, one a fool would made who never heard of Helen. Eitherway, Helen was healthy again, and that was good enough in itself.

"Lady Helen, I say it again; you are most welcome to stay at my court for as long as you please. Yet I am afraid that we currently have little means of pressing your rightful claim. Certainly, we will try and carefully find out what the other lords of Lundland think, but for the moment, I am afraid that our hands are more or less tied."

"That's just it, my lady, I've wanted to talk to about my claim." She finished the rest of her food by shovelling it into her mouth, before wiping it with a handkerchief. The dining hall of Diritania's castle was smaller than most, but held a table long enough to seat two dozen. Stained glass windows, depicting the Saints and Archangels in their most glorious moments, flanked the table's sides at every few feet, letting a brilliant morning light into the room. One particular light shone on Helen, making the dust of the room visible, like a wispy mist over a lake after a rainstorm.

"I travelled toward your court, because I knew I'd be safest here. You've supported me from the very beginning. The steward, and my caretaker in youth, Aengus Stanric, he arranged to have me in a safehouse. But I'll be damned to hide in some hole like a varlot, while my brother lets all our father's work disappear. The lords of the land have already reclaimed the right to mint their own money, make their own treaties, war with whomever they please, for any reason, and refuse the call to arms!"

Helen looks out the window behind her. Past the image of Saint Sera, the warrior girl who defended Lundland from a Baccan raiding force shortly after Aella's death. Behind the window, serfs could be seen working the keep's private fields. It was a bright, sunny morning, and though they looked exhausted, many were smiling, appearing to make jokes.

"Everything might seem calm now," Helen continued, "But it's only the calm before the storm. If the Lords of Lundland continue to act like the Land doesn't exist, then our enemies will treat us like it doesn't exist. If we cannot meet our enemies as a united force, under a strong Overlord, then we will be doomed at the first sight of an enemy banner."

Helen turned back to Fiona. Her smile had disappeared, and her cool blue eyes focused on Lady Vearin with intensity. "My lady, you have been kind to me thus far, but I must as another favour of you. I need you to talk to the other lords of Lundland. Tell them you have made contact with me. Tell them to support my rightful claim to the throne. It will be no easy task: many of them like Rone's lazy rule. They would let a damned dog wear the crown if it meant they could have all the benefits of their liege's protection, without any responsibilities or duties. But if I am on the throne, all of that will change. For the memory of my father, Balthazar, I will make Lundland as strong as it was under Aella's rule. I will make the title of Overlord as powerful and respected as it should be. I will keep this land safe from the Baccans, Ordained, Bogans, Gaints, Volcanics, and even from itself. And I will make Rone pay for his foolishness."

She paused. Her fist was clenched over her knife, which she was stabbing into the table. She loosened her grip after a moment, but she did not loosen her gaze. "If for no other reason, my lady, help me in the memory of my father. He was a strong, and good man, who cared about everyone in this kingdom, from the highest Lord to the lowest serf. His legacy deserves a better denouement than bleeding to death, and rolling in his grave while his son fails the Land."

Fiona did not back down from Helen's stare. Not out of spite, but because Fiona could not but agree with and believe in Lady Helen's words. She darted hey eyes over to her husband, who stopped chewing as Helen talked, and then to her own hands holding a fork. The truth was that she felt odd. Without doubt, she believed that allowing Rone to stay on the throne will inevitably end into the end of Lundland, the end of Diratania. Yet, since her father Lord Domnall has died tragically just shortly after her mother, Lady Fiona felt a lot of darkness burdening her soul. Any ambition that went beyond "survive for a little bit longer" was deemed as foolish, and bound to fail.

"Lady Helen, there is much truth in your words, but..."

Fiona looked into Helen's energetic eyes again. That was why she felt odd. That certainity of doubt, the endless pessimism; it seemed, as if just the very presence of Lady Helen and her ambitions was enough to be the small ray of light that made a crack in the black wall of hopelessnes around Fiona.

A few seconds passed.

"Actually, no. Helen, you have my word; I shall immediately set myself to writing the letters. I have, we have given up hoping that these lands will ever be healed again, yet seeing you here... seeing you with such might in her words and force in her will. It... I must thank you for this. So much time passed since I have felt such courage in my heart again.”

This is the letter that she has sent to the major lords of Lundland. Feel free to image all the personalized formalities at the head and foot of it

"Tell, what happens when the Bogan dogs are not satisfied anymore by their own land and in their greed set out to bring chaos to Lundland. Tell, what happens when the great volcan erupts and the heathens gather to burn down our villages. Tell, what happens when the Giants direct their wrath and lust against Lundland once more? Tell, what happens when the Ordained Kingdom and the Baccus Empire find peace with each other, and yearn for the blood of Lundland?

The lands of Diratania lie in the core of Lundland, seemingly protected by numerous lands belonging to other lords, to you. Yet, even I know with certainity that with Rone - the false Overlord - our fate is sealed, for we all will be punished for our arrogance and pride by laying dead under the burned ground of our beloved home.

I know, and I can understand, that there is a certain willingness to let this happen. The incompotent rulership of an Overlord who let's his realm suffer brings certain comforts. However, when the inevitable disasters strike, whether they be coming from east or north or south, those who blinded themself and ignored these threats will cry and bleed as their lands fall to chaos. Let us not become those who cry. Let us be the one who sees those who yearn for Lundland's lives and answer them "No". Let us not sit idly by, let us bond together and stand as one mighty realm against all who set foot on Lundland with nothing but malice in their souls.

For that purpose though, do we need a strong Overlord. One who is in herself a symbol of hope and force. Lady Helen, the rightful heir to the throne, the beacon that shall make Lundland great again, as it was during the times of Aella the Great. She is residing at my court, where she has been welcomed gratefully by both noblemen and common folk alike. Here, we will strive to make Lundland strong again.

I hope and beg you to decide swiftly - and to decide to stand on the right side of history: Those of the survivors.

Signed, Queen Fiona"
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