NationStates Jolt Archive

This. This is what I live for.
Dagfinnr grinned. That old nervous excitement, hightened by the darkness of a moonless night, intensified each living moment. The icy cold air on his face, the clip and clop sound as the horses walked on the soft earth, the rough touch of the animal pelts on his skin. All very familiar and yet all very new in the depths of the night as the Frozopian raiding force crossed the boarder and into enemy territory.

There were 70 men and 20 horses, violating old alliances with their lust for loot, rape and glory, commanded by a man who was little better than a peasant but wealthy enough to render the raid unneccesary. But Dagfinnr was a Frozopian throwing axeman, an elite brotherhood formed on the battlefield who earned the honor to carry the throwing axe. War was his one and only true love in life, and he pursued it with zealotry.

Lord Brunswick had authorised the attack, continuing his bitter despute with his Angerman neighbours over the strip of farming land directly inbetween the provincial capitals. With his authority, 65 men and 15 horses were provided to the 5 Throwing axemen and all loot/slaves would be split 50/50. Somewhat intimidated by the 5 axemen, Brunswick had agreed to his profit share without complaint, even paying a compliment to the axemen by putting his first born son under their command.

Dafinnr was dragged out of his thoughts by a sudden harsh whisper.

"The village is 2 miles south. Should we prepare for the attack?"

Dafinnr's oldest friend and fellow axeman Saxi, rode beside him. Saxi had been innitiated by Dafinnr into the Frozopian throwing axemen 5 years ago. Previous Saxi had been captain of Lord William's guard who at the time were assigned to destroy a nearby bandit group, whence he invited his friend Dafinnr to join him. Unfortunately the lords intelligence let him down hugely, and the Frozopians found themselfs outnumbered 6 to 1. With great courage Saxi lead his men in a charge, cutting their way through the largest collection of bandits the country had ever seen to safety. Although ultimately it was a defeat, the Frozopians successfuly slayed the Bandits charismatic leader (who was also a noble whose land had been taken away for treachery) and thus triggered the beginning of the end for the renegades.

"Yes. Make sure everyone is ready for the assault."

The Frozopians would fall on the village, slaying its pathetic peasants who would attempt to defend it and enslaving the rest before carrying whatever loot they could out of the province and back home.

On the horizon, the sun slowly crept into the sky. It would be a bloody dawn for the village.


OOC:
This is a medievil RP between me and Angermanland. Eventually this little raid should spill out into a all out war. If your interested to join as a mercenary band, or a nation or whatever Tg us. DONT POST HERE.

Balthazar and his brothers were shepherds, as their father and uncles before them had been. more specifically, they were the shepherds of Shalom, responsible for the combined flocks of the entire village. to be fair, this was only more than a hundred animals in a particularly good lambing season, but there were enough bandits, wild animals, and other pitfalls for sheep minding their own business [or not] to justify all five of them being fully employed with the task.

this day started as any other. the sun rose, and with it the shepherds. eating leftovers from the night before for breakfast, packing some small quantity of food in a satchel to last for the day, then opening the gate to the sheep pen and herding the flock through the lower level of the building and out to the pastures to the north. these shepherds, like many before them, slept in the sheep pen's gateway, but they'd long since decided that doing so Outside was rather silly.

while some of the other inhabitants would be up and about at this time of the day, few would have cause to leave their houses yet, and fewer still to actually leave the village. so it was that Balthazar and his brothers were the first to see the frozopian raiders.

the brothers typically harried their slings [traditional, and highly effective, weapon of shepherds everywhere] loaded, as one never knew what one might encounter, and so did not cause tension by preparing them now. strange armed men in colors of neighboring nobles who served different lords were rarely a good sign. but it was Possible that there was a legitimate reason for them to be there. no need to get killed over nothing, after all.

Dagfinnr's heart skipped a beat at the site of the peasants, but he remained calm. It was a easy mistake to mistake mounted men for retainers. What was important here was to remove these shepheards before the infantry caught up. Calmly he stilled Saxi's arm which was reaching for his axe and whispered sharply.

"Remain calm. Do not attack"

Turning to the peasants he gave them a haughty stare.

"Peasants! Come here and KNEEL!" Dagfinnr snapped authoritively.

"i do not like the looks of this, not at all." Zebadiah remarked. "aren't they frozopian axe-men? you know what father said they're like."

"aye, you've a point there, still... " Balthazar took a moment to think "well, there we go then. Zebadiah, run back to the village, get everyone up and ready and have them send a messenger to lord Kant. we..." he paused "will go do what we're told and try not to get killed. keep your slings ready, brothers, but try not to provoke them"

with that, his plan, such as it was, was carried out.

Dagfinnr watched one of the shepheards lope off but kept his attention on main group. Sheep gathered around the horsemen following their masters. The smell of animal dung offended Dagfinnr's nose.

Dagfinnr indicated 3 of his horsemen to dismount.

"Deal with them."

Immediatly the 3 men fell upon the kneeling peasants, hacking them to pieces as the first blood of the day was not spilt but sprayed upon the grass. One turned to run but an axe caught him low in the back, driving the man to the ground.

Abruptly the sheep panicked, running in all directions and causing a ruckus. The few foolish enough to ride near the horses were met with a vicious bite or hoof for their stupidity as the disciplined battle horses remained a island of calm in the chaos.

"Get back to the men and tell them to hurry. They shouldnt be more than a minute that way." Dagfinnr roared over the din.

The 3 horsmen remounted and forced a wedge through the rampant sheep and rode back towards the infantry.

"Forwards boys!" The remaining Frozopians leapt into the saddle and rode in a solid wedge through the sheep, slashing down from the saddle where neccessary. Eagerly they rode in pursuit of the runner, but more importantly the village.....

while a man on foot may be slower than a man on horseback, over short distances from a standing start, the man is faster. on routs requiring one to turn corners quickly, a man is faster. in the open... not so much.

so it was that Zebadiah made good his escape, starting ahead of foes who first dealt, noisily, with his brothers, then had to over come the effects of a panicked mob of sheep before they could even begin chasing him. he reached the village proper and raised the alarm, as Balthazar had told him to do. unfortunately, organizing disbelieving peasants to do anything that might get them killed is a very difficult thing to do. some fled, some sought to greet the approaching axemen as the nobles they pretended to be...

Zebadiah instead, there for, ... appropriated.... a horse, and set out to inform the Lord Kant himself. perhaps the marauders would get what they were after... it was unlikely they'd have long to enjoy it.

Dagfinnr slashed down from the saddle, sending a peasant stupid enough to raise a club against a armoured horsemen spinning to the ground. Dagfinnr was grinning again.

"KILL any defenders and the old! Capture the rest!" The orders were unnecessary. Each man knew what to do.

A slung stone deflected off Dagfinnr's shield.
"OI!" DAgfinnr rode at the peasant, barely a man. The peasant turned to run but was too slow and recieved a swift decaputation for his troubles.

As the infantry ran into the village, 10 immediatly began to gather those who had surrendered. Particular effort was made to capture young children. The rest fell upon what loot they could plunder and any remaining defenders stupid enough to continue fighting.

The Frozopian horsemen pushed through the centre of the small village and headed out to the outskirts of it. From here they could drive any refugee's back into the village and warn the infantry of any counter attack, although it was doubtfull any force would have time to gather and attack in the short period of time Dagfinnr hoped to give them.

As the last of the defenders surrendered, the Dagfinnr set about his duties checking the wounded (few), that all the men were accounted for (they were). Then he lined up his increasing number of slaves releasing the children so they could run to their families.

"Seize the children." He nodded to Saxi.

"LISTEN UP YOU SCUM BAGS!" He roared at the peasants as they drew protectively around their children from the approaching Frozopians.

"Let any man use whatever women he wants! Do everything you are ordered to! Move as fast as you can when we are on the march! Carry what you are told to carry. If I feel you perform all this acceptably......Your children will be free to go in Frozopia. We do not war on Children. We do not enslave children. But if I feel you were too slow, too lazy, too disobedient. Then we will rip your children apart in front of your very eyes!"

Dagfinnr turned from the weaping families.

"Be vigilant. Let the mens fun be short, make sure we collect every bit of food and treasure we can find and carry."

"My lord! a messenger from Smythingdale."
"show him in"

the guard opened the door and called for the messenger. a moment later Zebodiah entered and bowed as he should.

"so, what brings you here?"
"my lord, my brothers and i are" he stumbled slightly over the sentence "Were, shepherds from the village of Smythingdale. as we do each morning, we took the sheep out at dawn to the pasture towards the Frozopian border. on the way we encountered some twenty horsemen. from descriptions our father gave us in the tales he told before he died, we identified them as Frozopian axemen. one of them ordered us forward. i urged caution, and Balthazar, the eldest of us, listened. he instructed me to warn the village of their arrival and arrange for a messenger to come back and report to you. then my brothers, with the sheep, advanced to do as they were told. ... they killed every one of my brothers. i escaped only because the panicked sheep slowed their horses.

i did as Balthazar had instructed me, attempting to arrange a defense. the village has some five two hundred able bodied men in it, lord, it could be done. instead, the citizens panicked. some thought they should make a show of.... friendship, i guess. placate the axemen. others simply fled. i... appropriated... one of the horses to come to you myself, as no other seemed willing. i was some way down the road before the screams began. if you look carefully to the north, you can see the outline of the smoke where the village should be."

Rikard, Lord of Kant, grew more and more angered with every word. without warning, their neighbors had invaded. more so, his own people had been so gutless and foolish that only this shepherd had the wit to come and inform him.

"well, it is too late to save the village, it seems." he ground out "still, perhaps we can catch the dogs who did this. give the order. every fighting man who can ride is to mount up within the hour. we head for Smythingdale. Simonson!" he turned to his marshal "give orders to raise the levies, and organize the foot soldiers in the castle for its defense on the off chance that this is just the beginning of something bigger."

"it will be as you say, lord."

"you, messenger! shepherd! whatever. what's you're name?"
"Zebadiah, lord."
"right. Zebadiah. you can ride, obviously. the horse you took is yours. you're coming with us."
"i'm not sure how much use i'd be in battle, lord. i can use a sling well enough, but that's about it."
"then it's a good thing i need you as a guide and scout, rather than as a soldier or officer. none the less, you're coming."
"as you say, lord."

Rikard looked around for a moment "well, what are men waiting for? MOVE!"

much activity ensued. within the hour, some eighty men were headed towards Smythingdale. at their head road Rikard, his flag bearer and squire, and Zebadiah. behind these men road two knights, thirty lancers [light cavalry wearing a mix of steel and leather, armed with lance, sword and shield] and thirty other men, who would fight on foot in the normal course of things. the famous Angerman light infantry were not represented, however. the mounted foot soldiers were a mix of bowmen and swordsmen. all trained veterans of campaigns in the south, but nothing special otherwise beyond that they were on hand and could ride.

The Frozopians were on the move again. The slaves were driven infront while their children were carried/pushed by the Frozopian infantry. The 20 horsemen remained in all directions as a deterent for any slaves willing to risk their childrens lives in a escape attempt.

One of the horsemen at the rear rode forwards to catch up with Dagfinnr.

"What is it?"
"I saw horsemen in the distance! Maybe a 100? Perhaps less."
"How far!?"
"A mile?"

Dagfinnr turned away. They were 3 miles from the boarder. So close.....

"Saxi. Prepare for combat. The moment those horsemen come I want our infantry to enter formation. Keep hold of the children. We dont want to lose the slaves now! You!"
Dagfinnr pointed at the harbringer of bad news.

"Keep an eye on these pursuers. I didnt expect the enemy to react so quickly....."

Dagfinnr was worried. The reliability of his troops were unknown. They seemed a disciplined bunch, and he had been informed most had battle experience but Dagfinnr hated to fight with those he didnt know. They were all equipped and trained to form a shield wall (spears/halbeards, shields and swords) with steel and leather armour. 5 were also bowmen. It was not the right balance of troops but Dagfinnr had hoped to avoid an open conflict with soldiers. He hoped the horsemen would realise attacking the group would come with a huge cost and that they would instead bargain for the hostages instead......

they'd passed the burning ruin that was Smythingdale not long before. what had taken place there was fairly obvious, and it sickened Zebadiah to the pit of his stomach. most of the soldiers were somewhat.... used to such things, but they were obviously not impressed either.

still, a brief examination showed which direction the Frozopians had gone, and the small force had set off in pursuit once more imediatly.

and now they had all but caught up.

"Michals!" Lord Kant called to one of his knights "take fifteen lancers and swing around to their left flank. Jackson! the other half out to the right. any civilians... well, try not to kill them, but if they get in the way they die too. gutless traitors mostly anyway, those that got caught." the two knights acknowledged their orders and sped off. they weren't wearing full heavy war armour. the need to move quickly prevented that, as it would tire the horses. none the less, they wore some, and were skilled commanders and warriors. they'd know what to do.

"Men! make ready. when we catch them, we dismount and fight as quickly as possible. we cannot let them escape. immediately on dismounting, archers will form a line just in front of the horses, swordsmen will form column in front of the archers. now, it's the final stretch. for vengeance and honor, RIDE!" he snapped the reigns and his horse bolted forward, the others quickly following. the infantry, after all, didn't need the horses fresh to fight.

As the enemy had approached, the Frozopians had pulled together their cavalry and infantry untill the infantry were in a shield wall and the cavalry sat on the right flank. 5 Soldiers kept watch on the prisoners and hostages.

Lancers, lancers, lancers. What are we going to do with you?

Dagfinnr's anxiety was increasing. The enemy, although smaller than first estimated were well mounted for the force they were facing. If forced to form a square Dagfinnr knew he would suffer punishment from the enemy archers and despite the formations defence the lancers would take their toll on the infantry with their lengthy weapons.

Well there was one thing for it. Off to the right flank was a forrest admittedly several 100 meters away.... Dagfinnr ordered the light cavalry out to the left flank.

a minute later

9 men bolted across the open ground, sprinting for the protection of the trees. It seemed that they had decided to risk the lancers rather than certain death in the trapped formation. The prisoners gave a bitter laugh while Dagfinnr and several other Frozopians roared "Traitors!" after them.

Jackson smiled and sent five of his lancers off to deal with those fleeing. there was the off chance it was a trap, or that they were messengers, or some other ploy, after all. the less of them that got away, the better. still, if they got to the trees the lancers would return rather than attempting to pursue. the rest rode around to take up a position that would allow them to charge a flank as soon as the detachment rejoined them. all they needed to do was sit there and remain a threat, forcing the enemy infantry to stay still, after all.

on the other flank, Michals's lancers were standing ready, faced off against the frozopian horse. all they needed to do, after all, was keep them occupied for the moment. if they started moving, the lancers would deal with it. otherwise, there was no need to run the risk.

and in the center, the infantry dismounted, and the archers began their deadly work. once they'd weakened the line sufficiently [and there was only so much the shield bearers could do against the alternating arcing and straight volleys the archers fired] the infantry would go in. in the mean time, it prevented the enemy infantry from attempting to break out of their formation and attack.

a pleasing situation, over all.

The "Deserters" turned on the pursuing lancers when the enemy were barely 45 yards away. 4 Throwing axemen led by Saxi stepped forward and held ready to throw their axes. Each man carried 2 or 3 axes. Allowing the horses to get closer and closer so as to maximise damage the skilled throwing axemen hurled one small volley, a full volley, and one last full volley. Backing off quickly they joined the 5 soldiers behind them in a very thin and narrow shield wall....

Dagfinnr roarer orders. The Frozopian infantry ignored the approaching infantry columns and instead rushed the 15 lancers on the other flank, pushing past the Frozopian light cavalry who parted to allow space. The Frozopian light cavalry rode out to the side of infantry, determined to act as a deterent to both the infantry columns and the remaining lancers on the other flank.

the lancers knew their business and simply raised their shields and kept coming. one went down with an axe in him reguardless, a particularly powerful and lucky throw. another had his horse tumble out from under him, quick thinking and the fact that his lance struck the ground point first saved him from any great injury, however. the others were lucky or skilled enough to deflect or avoid the incoming axes.

with distances so small, however, it was unlikely the axemen would get behind their friends before they were ridden down. even if they did, the infantry would die before they had the chance to do much more damage. a lance was a little over five yards long, after all.

the main body of the frozopian force, however, got a nasty shock. the arrows stopped. then the Angerman troops Charged. what else would they do when the enemy was foolish enough to simultaneously break formation AND move his cavalry out of the way?

from each side, the lancers charged. admittedly one group was slightly smaller than the other, having pealed off the men who were now dealing to the axemen, but that wasn't really a problem.

at the same time, the infantry column also charged what was now the flank of a disorganized mob of frozopian infantry. they were undeterred by the light frozopian cavalry. it had bigger things to worry about, as the last thing Any horsemen wanted was to be caught by lancers. they would be butchered as well as infantry if they were not in a position to fight back. only the most well protected knights had much in the way of hope beyond blind luck to survive being hit by lancers while facing the other way, after all.

The nine men held their ground in one last shield wall as the three lancers plunged into them. Pushing forward the spears and overlapping shield the small formation did its best to stop the charge but the line was too thin and the enemy punched through driving their lancers into the desperate Frozopians. Stunned and out of formation, the remaining five Frozopians sprinted for the tree line and their last hope of salvation.

Meanwhile the light cavalry swung and rode hard at the charging infantry hacking and slashing through swordsmen but going on and on untill they met the enemy archers who had been raining fire upon the light cavalry, regardless of the obstacle their own infantry provided. Slowed to almost a standstill they swung their swords at the poorly armoured archers. One was brave enough to drive his horse into what looked like a mounted knight, aiming a slash at his opponents face...

Roaring the Halbearders levelled their weapons at the charging horsemen. Shieldsmen did there best to slow the cavalry charge, thrusting their own swords up into the horses bodies, Dagfinnr among them hurling his axe with a deadly accuracy. At the rear the five Frozopian archers realised the threat of the remaining ten lancers on the other flank and prepared to fire volleys into any charge they make. Calling to their nearby comrades, they begged the men to ready for another charge. Those whom were reluctant to charge cavalry obeyed.

those lancers still mounted from their initial charge responded to the Frozopians' flight by simply reigning in, wheeling, forming up, and charging them again. they would continue to do this until every one of them had died or made it to the trees.

in the center, the frozopian cavalry had been worn down by arrow and blade, but was not dead yet. two to one odds just weren't enough to stop even light cavalry, when one was defending with infantry not equipped for the task. still, Rikard swung his blade, an unusual sort of short halberd, used only by some knights and commanders. it was poorly suited to fighting in formations, but one of the better weapons to have to hand when fighting alone and outnumbered. as one of only two mounted men on his side of the current brawl, he may as well be.

he deflected the first horseman's blade with the weapon's shaft, before swinging it 'round to decapitate another, changing hands and shifting his grip to vary the weapon's reach with deceptive ease. as he cleared a space around himself, he heard an odd sound and turned to see what it was.

one of the frozopians had managed to sneak up on him in the chaos of the melee, only to be met with a stone from Zebadiah's sling. the man lay dead on the ground. he saluted the shepherd with his weapon, before bringing his hand down and driving the butt spike into another frozopian, then called an order to those few Angerman foot soldiers who remained alive.

"Right. Fall back! fall back! back and to the left!"

if they could make the same trees the frozopian's were fleeing into work for them as well, some of the soldiers might survive. he and Zebadiah should, at least.

Michals's lancers, in a line only one rank deep, charged gleefully into the enemy infantry. halberds and shields weren't much of a match for lancers, really, especially not with their formation not yet quite settled. none the less, some halberdeers were lucky enough or smart enough to avoid the lance point, and their own blades struck home, killing horses and catapulting the men from them. one managed to land on his feet, still holding his lance, and begin to employ it upon the enemy around him, but they were too many, too close. while many took injurys great and small, few died before he was swarmed under. others managed to land well and draw swords, and the crashing bodies of dead horses cleared great chunks of the formation away, crushing, knocking down, or simply distracting the infantry there.

nine lancers kept their horses and their lives and continued on, punching a path to the center of the infantry formation, and leaving dead and dieing frozopians behind them, before the shear weight of the men around them prevented them continuing. Michals himself, a large man by any standard, was armed with a great two handed waraxe, and carving quite a swath through the frozopian infantry before he found himself unable to move forwards. slowly, the lancers numbers fell. but the frozopians fell faster.

seeing already that this or something similar would happen, Jackson had begun his own charge with his ten remaining lancers, heading straight for the archers. and singing. never forget the singing. a terrifying chant of demons and death, as the lightly armoured knight rode ahead of his lancers, whirling a banner trailing spear above his head and belting out the fearful sound at a volume almost becomeing a roar.

the first frozopian fell before he had time to react, as the knight's spear swung down and slew him, before swinging around to hit the next, as the lancers crashed in behind and to either side of him, their numbers diminished but slightly from the archers fire.

The Frozopians, enraged by the lancer charge fell upon the standing lancers, dragging them from their saddles and viciously stabbing them to death. At the enemy lancers centre, a knight maintained space around him, hacking his axe at any Frozopians brave enough to risk his fury. Dagfinnr, now standing on the outskirts of the melee, took careful aim with his throwing axe. The man was turned away, and did not see the axe thrown in his direction.....

Dagfinnr turned away to see the other side of the melee collapsing. Punching through the other group of lancers forced the entire melee apart, leaving Frozopians fleeing in all directions. The whole melee was torn asunder. It was run or die for the infantry. Dagfinnr ran to his horse once held by the men guarding the prisoners, which now stood alone. Leaping into the saddle, Dagfinnr made his own escape towards the tree line.

Saxi burst past the tree line and kept running until it was safe. Diving behind some roots and gasping for air, he looked around to see who else had made it. Three men warily hid nearby. "You three rest here one minute." Dropping all his weapons except for a dagger he carried, Saxi crept back to the tree line to find out what was happening. The first thing he saw were the 5 prisoner guards running for the tree line, prisoners forgotten.....

Dormund, lord Brunswick's son was elated. The enemy were running away harried by the Frozopian light cavalry, he had bloodied his sword for the first time and victory was in sight. Of course Dormund was a inexperienced warrior and perhaps if he knew more about battle and actually looked back towards where the Frozopian infantry were fleeing, he would have a clearer perspective of what was going on. Instead Dormund and his fellows chased the fleeing infantry untill they had reached the safety of the treeline only then realising how close the Frozopians were to defeat.

Rikard and Zebadiah brought there horses to a halt at the edge of the trees as the Frozopian cavalry turned away. the poor animals were exhausted, and would be impractical if not impossible to ride under the trees anyway.

"they're turning off, are we safe now?"

"for the moment, but i think i saw some of their infantry run in here earlier. keep your guard up. we'll rejoin the lancers once the horses are rested. " Rikard paused a moment "you know, I've lost count of how often Angerman troops have lost battles or taking horrific losses, not because their commanders made errors, but because their opponents did something fundamentally stupid. it's almost becoming something of a ritual. history repeats, as they say."


Michals, meanwhile, had been fortunate enough to move just as the axe came flying towards him. it passed 'harmlessly' by before embeding it's self in the man he was currently dealing with. that threat neutralized, he turned to see where the axe had come from, only to find the infantry around him scattering and fleeing, and Jackson's men riding up to rejoin him. his own surviving men were giving chase as their foes fled, so he rode up to the other knight.

"well, my friend, you saved me again. now you only owe me two."
"hah. where'd you learn to count? it's quite clear that you owe Me One, now."
"the tavern"
"the tourney"
"the eastern campaigns"
"grass seed rebellion"
"oh, whatever. look, i need to go gather my men, 'least they chase these dogs right into a trap. think you can deal with their cavalry, pretty boy?"
"feh, just because i have the wit to dodge when someone strikes at my face. yeah, i can take care of it. from what i could see, they were badly weakened, and these sorry curs broke before our charge. I've still got ten good men, so if the infantry did their jobs, i should have the advantage."
"good, good. well, I'll be off. try not to die! Yah!" with a yell and a touch of spur, Michals took off in pursuit of his men, as they in turn chased the fleeing infantry. in truth, it was quite a funny sight. he was lucky if he had more than 5 men left, and every single Frozopian on foot fled before them, many dieing as they fled.

Jackson took a moment to take stock of the situation as his men reorganized themselves, the remains of the detachment having caught up, and looked to see where his lord was. where there should have been infantry, there were only corpses, and cavalry riding hard in pursuit of two fleeing riders, one shining as only a knight in plate could. even as he watched though, the riders made the trees. the same trees, he noted, where those Frozopian infantry who had survived their failed... whatever it was... had taken refuge.

"Men, their horses come now towards us, their riders having killed our comrades. having forced our commander to flee, they seek to do the same to us. but take heart, for see? where their cowardly men ran, ours fought! their numbers are thus reduced.

so!" he stood up in his stirrups, raised his spear over his head in one hand, so it rose high in the air, and the small pennant on the end flapped in the breeze, "our spirits are stronger, our minds are sharper, our souls lighter, and our bodies less weary as a result! sing victory! sing vengeance! SING DEATH!"

as he slashed his spear down, his horse took off at a gallop, and those of his men followed.

the riders sang, and their knight-commander stood in his stirrups at the head of their charge and sang louder and stronger than them all, that their foes might know fear, and break in heart and mind as well as body.

They were eight Frozopians. Seven veterans lead by a boy who still couldnt grow a beard, who embodied youthfull foolishness, who could one day be a great leader if he was brave and lucky enough to survive this awful skirmish that had mauled both sides so badly. In a line they galloped the last few meters....

Kapras was Dormund's body guard, and he knew his duty. He would ride with his lieges son and die with him if it was necessary. The roar of Frozopian battle cries and hoof beats kept Kapras from expressing his pride for the young man. Lesser men would of fled first sight of defeat, but here was youth barely blooded today, ready to die for Frozopia, to die for those fought beside him.


Saxi watched the two mounted men warily. Perhaps something could be retrieved from this disaster, a fine suit of plate mail? But how to get it home.....There are horses everywhere, Im sure we can steal one to carry that armour. But how to kill these pig fuckers?
Stealthily Saxi retreated into the woods to get his weapons and fellows....


Dagfinnr turned from his flight to assess the situation. Five Lancers were driving his infantry into the trees. Some would get away. Others wouldnt but as things were, there was no chance of rallying them. On the other side of the skirmish, Dagfinnr's outnumbered light cavalry were making one last charge.

"There. There I fight." Dagfinnr spoke to the Gods of war who had protected him through his career as a warrior, who had repayed his courage with wealth and glory.

"Bless my blade so that I die honorably, that I bloody my sword with the enemy. May I send their souls to your realm, may I honor the ways of the Throwing Axeman and our Gods."

Gods favour the brave And with that thought he galloped forwards, timing his charge to strike at the same time as the light cavalry but instead from their rear.....

Maybe it was luck, gods or skill but the Frozopian light cavalry all died a horrible death that day. Dormund's first taste of battle ended in his own demise, too slow to react to the lance that plunged through his light armour. But he was one of the lucky ones or as lucky as the dead can be. The lance plunged through his heart so that in a split second the battlefield was transformed into darkness....

Kapras screamed once seeing the death of the man he had loved like a son. The enemy lance pitched him into the ground, and only with the loud thump as his body struck the earth did he realise that one of his lungs were pierced. Blood gushed from his throat and chest, but he did not scream again.
I have failed you my lord.

It was tragic that the Frozopians did not even get past the lance point but thus was destiny. Dagfinnr riding from the opposite direction and a witness to the tragedy, did not turn away.

Elsewhere Saxi had his sword and his 3 men ready for the ambush. He whispered to them quietly, out of hearing range.

"Drudan attack the knight. Use your spear well and go directly at him. " Drudan was a young farmer boy, born into poverty in a small town and desperate to escape, so he chose the army. He had served 2 years under Lord Brunswick. Saxi knew he was giving him a death setence.

"Aeskil go with him and use your axe to flank the pig fucker, I will finish him." Aeskill was a throwing axeman, and although his throwing axes were elsewhere on the battlefield he still carried his weapon of choice, a medium length two handed axe.

"Henry drive off the peasant with your sword and shield. Hold your shield high to block his sling shot, stab him when you get near.

The four men were prepared. They crept upto the tree line as close as possible to the two mounted men, and then Saxi stopped. In the distance he could clearly see Dagfinnr fighting a duel with a enemy warrior. The two were locked together, and then they rode apart.....

as Dagfinnr rode up, he carefully removed his neck piece and held it aloft. a symbol of the throwing axeman of Frozopia, he rode in silence. the Angermen had bordered his homeland long enough to know what this ment.



and Jackson did. he rode forth, head held high and spear at the ready. "why do you long so for death? you slaughter innocents, take prisoners, fight until your men die or flee from behind you, and ride forth regardless?" his tone was mocking, and he was grinning like a well feed cat.

"there is honor in battle, honor in death. i fight." the response was calm and measured.

"you fight, and you die!" and with that Jackson spurred his horse forward.



the axeman, armed with sword and shield while mounted, came forth also. as Jackson swung, Dagfinnr put up his shield and swung his own blade, laying a harsh cut across Jackson's arms.

Jackson, however, was prepared at least for the first action, and his armor saved him to some extent from the second. he used the ricochet of his spear to drive it around in a great ark, laying open the armor on Dagfinnr's side. not the fatal wound he was hoping for, but a problem none the less.

again, and a third time, he described great arcs faster than Dagfinnr could keep up with, and the axeman barely held his own. finally, the knight's weapon locked with Dagfinnr's and did not bounce away. they strained for a moment, disengaged, then withdrew, lined up, and set forth again.

using his shield wisely, Dagfinnr struck once, twice, and again, rending Jackson's amour completely, and inflicting grievous wounds.

but as he struck the fourth time, Jackson took full advantage of the opening, driving his spear into the other's throat even as the attack left himself open and the axeman's blade tore open his own gut.

they sat there for a moment, locked, dieing... and a look passed between the two...


then they fell, dead, upon the ground.

The skies were dim and dark, as if senses the mood of those who traveled beneath it. Angry storm clouds threatened their carried thunder like menacing birds of prey. The landscape was a barren and unforgiving one. Sweeping winds that sounded like the cries of banshees as it passed through the mountain rocks. Few scrubs of bush or greenery could be seen anywhere, and only then hiding in shadow.

Amongst the rock strewn mountain pass floor a figure dodged hither and thither. A pattern gray and brown stitched into the man’s cloak enable him to blend in with the mountainside with ease. His feet were surefooted as he ran with speed across the craggy surface. Dark, deep hawk-like eyes stared from the depths of his cloak hood. Light chain mail jingled as he went, a sword scabbard at his waist, and a bow and quiver on his back.

The mountain ranger turned over several ledges and dropped with a light jump a good distance to land on a small overhanging ledge. From his vantage point, crouched like a gargoyle, he could see south into the mouth of the pass. Even if he hadn’t been seeing it with his eyes, the large moving column would have been heard a mile away, the cavernous walls of the pass giving away their presence.

The column consisted of a long line of wagons and trundling caravans. Men with sour expressions of shame and anger sat in peasants clothing, driving on the oxen teams pulling their carriages. Women sat beside each, their wives or relations, dressed in woolen dresses of dim color and headscarves all but hid their faces. There was the occasional peak of a child looking out behind the wagon canvas.

Alongside the wagons marched weary men-at-arms. They wore leather jerkins and wool trousers. A hauberk of mail covered the leather jerkin and a Lamellar-scale cuirass over that mail. Forge-beaten, metal bowl-like helmets sat atop their heads. Each carried a sword at his side, a shield over his back, and a two-handed, single-bladed pole-axe in hand. Others bore spears or crossbows. Their livery was the color of black and red, their black tabards displaying the laughing head of a red wolf. Some 800 men-at-arms, full told, guarding some 2,000 women, children, and elderly.

Ahead and behind the column, marched 200 knights in orderly rows; helping to further protect the peasants from harm. Each wore, like the men-at-arms, leather under jerkins and a mail hauberk. Instead of a Lamellar cuirass however, each wore segmented plate armour and a helmet similar to the footmen but with added cheek guards. Attached to the back of each knight were twin curved, wooden staves with black and red colored feathers in them. The look made it seem as if they were winged horsemen. Each knight had a well forged saber at his side and a long lance in hand, pinions of red and black attached just below the lance-tip.

At the head of the column rode a herald who bore a great banner: a laughing red wolf upon a field of black. Beside him was a young officer wearing gilded armour, as if asking to be made a target. To the heralds other side rode a man in battered armour, clearly showing that the man was a veteran of combat.

When the mountain ranger had first been contacted about leading a party through the forbidden north mountains, he had thought it was a small war band hoping to find plunder and easy profits. Instead he was leading an entire small town. For some reason, most likely political, the ranger didn’t know, his employer, March Baron Gottfried Straghov had been banished from the Border Lands and into the north. His position was once to guard the border edge of the Thrashian Empire against roving bands of mountains Orcs, wild tribes of men, or even the occasional raid by a greedy warlord from the freistadts, free city-states that existed beyond the power of the Empire or ruled beneath a noble. The ranger himself was from one such city.

The March Baron had once had the allegiance of 800 more household (http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b184/Upum/Fantasy/lg_wingedhussars.jpg) knights, as his lancers were known and more than a thousands more men-at-arms (http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b184/Upum/Fantasy/footsoldier.jpg). The Elector Count of Ean Dosen however had cut down his small personal army and sent him packing.

“If you continue to dose off into day dreams Kale, it might get unhealthy for you,” said a voice behind the mountain ranger. He felt a small steel point press against the back of his neck.

“I was simply letting you get close Harne,” replied Kale with a smile, he tapped a small short sword that he had noiselessly unsheathed against the inner thigh his fellow mountain ranger standing behind him. The other man cursed and the felling of cold steel disappeared from Kale’s neck.

“Eyes in the back of your head, by the gods it should be a foul curse,” said Harne the ranger sullenly. He followed Kale’s stare and watched as the column lumbered on. “We’re to report to the Master of Arms in an hour. You find anything interesting?”

Kale smiled. “I found no restive enemies and a clear road.”

“So we should expect a battle.” It wasn’t a question.

“I found traces of foot prints, maybe around forty warriors…but they won’t tempt the wrath of so big an armed guard. By Asmond, we were bared from entering any of the freistadts for supplies because his lordship’s force is so large, compared to the small militia force the cities hold.”

“If I recall,” said Harne. “Even your own freistadt wouldn’t open its gates to you.”

“Not since I took the Baron’s crown,” said Kale ruefully, thinking about the heavy gold coin in his purse.

“Come on; let us get down to the pass floor. I am sure his lordship is eager to hear your news.” Without another word Harne disappeared and Kale couldn’t feel his presence behind him any more. Without a word he followed, going down the side of the mountain with the grace and skill of a mountain ram.


The two scouts reported to the Baron’s Master of Arms, a powerful man whose many scars across his arms and face marked him as a veteran warrior. Kale respectively inspected his battered armor, seeing where a mace hit there or a sword blow fell there. The Master of Arms, a man named Dieter, nodded with approval at the scout’s report. Kale saw a small hint of joy and renewed hope enter the man’s eyes.

Without a word the Master of Arms dismissed his two scouts and turned his horse towards the back of the column, cantering along at a quick pace. After passing more than thirty wagons and drawn caravans, he reached a small group of men in armour and mounted on war steeds. The March Baron sat straight in the saddle, a voluminous black and red cape handing from his shoulders. His polished plate armour shone in the afternoon sunlight.

“Milord, I bear good news from the rangers!” said Dieter with excitement.

“What is it?” inquired the March Baron, keeping his gaze neutral, having been steeled to hearing good news only to find it bad after the fact.

“We’ve a clear path! The pass comes out ahead to open grasslands. At this pace we should be there by nightfall.” March Baron Straghov (http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b184/Upum/Fantasy/Dun_Ban_by_tracyjb.jpg) nodded in approval, a small glimmer of hope entering his eye. The journey had been a trying one, which was for sure; making even the bravest of hearts despair.

* * * * *

Just as the sun was fading in the western sky, the last ox pulled wagon filed out of the mountain pass. Men-at-arms relaxed for a moment and knights walked their horses. Everyone from children to aged men stared out at the rich looking land before them. Forests and small valleys reached in all directions. A cool, southerly wind blew across their hot, sweaty faces and they collectively drew a sigh of relief.

Gottfried Straghov smiled and turned to his aide-de-camp. “Get fires going and break out the last of the vodka. We will celebrate tonight!”

Saxi was trembling with rage. His best friend lay dead on the battlefield and although Saxi was proud that his friend had taken the foe with him he was equally distraught and angry at the loss. He did not think clearly at that moment of time, and it would cost his life. Ignoring his original plan he walked out of the tree line, pointing his sword at the knight while holding his Axe neck piece aloft.

"Your people granted my man a duel to the death. We will give you the same offer."

The other three Frozopians stepped out behind him, surprised at their friends change of plan.

The knight stepped forward, Halbeard levelled. The two men circled each other, and then fast as lightning Saxi darted forward. The knight met him just as fast, swinging the halbeard. Saxi held his shield up but the halbeard deflected off the shield slicing into Saxi's skull, smashing the Frozopians skull and spilling his brain in all directions. The man stood for a second, before his corpse hit the floor.

Aeskill nodded while the other two Frozopians looked stunned, reaching for their weapons.

"Too many good men have died today. You have fought for and earned your freedom. You will see us again.....And on that day you will not be so fortunate."

The three men withdrew into the trees.


Losses had been horrendous on both sides. Of the seventy Frozopians who left Frozopia for the raid, only ten made it to the safety of the treeline. The rest were dead or too wounded to make the journey home. In the forrest Aeskill took charge, gathering the scattered men. At night they would make a break for the boarder in the heart of the darkness.

those of the Angerman force who survived gathered in the middle of the feild.

"a bloody mess" Rikard spat "go find Jackson's corpse. we'll take him back for burial. round up the pesents. they can gather the corpses for burning. have the lancers gather up the horses. all the loot, what there is of it, comes back to the castle. those scum" he waved a hand at the peseants looting the corpses " are mostly cowards and traitors anyway, but there's no point trying them for it. someone must work the fields, after all. so, they get to have nothing gained from this. go."

fourteen lancers, a knight, a lord, and a shepherd. the entirety of the survivors on the Angerman side of this bloody battle. it was not really worth the cost.


"M'lord!" Michals rode back up "we found identifying heraldry and jewelry on some of the corpses. Brunswick's son was with their cavalry."

"... Crap. this complicates things. bah, finish up here, quickly. we return to the castle. we'll see what Brunswick has to say about this, and the Prince, for that matter. Zebadiah!"

"yes, m'lord?"

"you did well. you've a choice. go back to your old life, what's left of it, given what's left of your village and it's surrounds as a fief of sorts, being aware it may be about to become the front lines of a war, or take some money and join my army. think about it. you can tell me when we get back to the castle."

"y-yes m'lord." Zebadiah wasn't quite sure how to react. all these things would be great honors, but he wasn't really suited to the latter two, and with family and flocks dead, his old life was basically non-existent now.

still, perhaps there was a possibility...

It was a beautiful day in the south of Frozopia, the sun proclaiming the end of another hard winter. Three lords enjoyed a hunt, leaving behind their personal rivalries for a day. Their prey was Boar, each man carrying large hunting Bows and heavy lances as they rode along the various hunting trails that criss crossed the forrest bustling with wild life. Lord Kane smiled to himself, once again impressed by the beauty of Frozopia in spring.

Sun light cast shadows upon the forrest floor, lightly covered in the last glistening layer of snow. In all directions different guards from different households trampled it, watching the forrest warily. Some were assigned to watch for animals, while others to watch for killers.

"Brunswick's son died in the skirmish." Lord Nathan spoke quietly, keeping his eyes on the woods.

"The day is too beautiful to talk of politics." Kane felt his mood darken.

"I will not have the time later. I must leave straight after the hunt."

Kane sighed.

"How did he react?"
"He was furious. My agent thought he would cut down the axe man who brought the news."

Kane laughed
"He hasnt got the balls to turn the axemen against him. No matter how furious he may have been."

"Regardless. His sons will pressurise him to revenge himself on those southern Pigs. This is what we needed. Now all the boarder lords are ready and willing for war."

"Are you sure?"

"His heir and son David came back two days after Brunswick recieved news of his death. He immediatly set out to recruit more soldiers to his fathers force. When he is done his father will have more men then before. They are scouring the land and emptying the treasury to do so."

"Your agents are well informed."

The three men rode along in silence for a minute, digesting the information. Finally the third lord spoke, a older man called Snorri.

"We know the axe men are eager for battle. But the king will put his foot down. He still honors the old treaty."

Nathan snorted.
"He is his Grandfather, the fool who signed that treaty. He would rather war on the bastard tribes."

"The tribes are brave," Snorri replied "There is honor earned in our battles with them."

"But what treasure do they posess!? What land do they own that isnt frozen all year round? We gain nothing in their destruction! Why do you think we havent crushed them by now!? No lords want to ride into that barren landscape, to fight vicious tribal warriors from dawn to dusk and at the end of the day say they have achieved nothing, gained nothing, won nothing."

"There is the Sea. The King thinks thats the greatest treasure of all." Kane spoke calmly.

"Ha. Even if we reach the sea, how long do you think it will take for us to build ships, to hire crews, to protect our trade vessels? We will not see the wealth in our life time, probably not even in our childrens."

Another few minutes of silence passed between the men before Kane spoke again.

"Then we must turn the King."


Elsewhere Lord Brunswick listened to the Angermanlandian messenger. It was hard to control his rage at the messenger who stood there so calmly.

"We know it was your men who lead the raid."
"Nonsence! We lead no raid upon-"
"We have your sons jewelry. He died in the conflict. It distinctly points towards his participation."

Silence. While Brunswick cursed the bastard messenger, cursed the Axemen and cursed those southern pigs.

"He was clearly mislead by some poor fools. We will deal with any of the survivors."
"Im sure you will." The man replied sarcastically, before striding away.

"Lord Amaziah! a messenger from the south!" Amaziah, count of the south western province of Angermanland, looked up from his game. on the board, his marshal's castle was about to fall, despite his own soldiers being nowhere near it. such was the power of good stratagy.

"well, i suppose i can leave the game here while Simon tries to find a way out of this awkward predicament."

"nay, m'lord, there is no way out save surrender. you've won. let us see what the messenger has to say."

"very well" Amaziah turned to the door guard "send him in."

the messenger entered and bowed.

"well, what have you to tell me, messenger, that is so urgent?"

"m'lord, a large force has been sighted in the south, bearing unknown symbols on their banners. "

"how large?"

"reports vary, but it would seem there are at least two thousand men, and that a large portion of the force is logistical in nature, as one would see on a long campaign."

"mmm. very well. you may go"

"lord." the messenger bowed again, then left.

after pausing for a moment, gathering his thoughts, the count spoke,"so, what do you think?"

"i say we mobilize our troops and then we ride out and see for ourselves. could be simply a war band from the tribes, under some new leader. perhaps someone finally learned from their mistakes. or another round of rebels perhaps. not sure what they'd be objecting to This time, though. but the same is true of most such things. useually just someone done something stupid." the marshal shrugged.

"mmm. two thousand men. well, it's highly unlikely they're a force that can match ours for skill and quality. still. you're right about the immediate course of action, at least. i shall send to the capital for supplementary troops for the defense. you gather our men for a campagn. if we're lucky they'll get to march out, see something unusual, and go home." he paused for a moment in thought. " what strengths can be expected? for our own muster, i mean."

"last count, roughly two hundered ouhjavalinade, twenty knights and maybe four times that in other heavy cavalry. three hundred archers, probably, and about as many heavy foot, as well as the engineers and ourselves, of course. it'll take at Least a week to gather them, however."

"very well. let us hope we have that time. also, send messengers to the judicias, barons, and councils. they are to prepare to defend their lands, should the need arise."

"it shall be as you say."


messengers went out, and these plans were put into effect.




in the capital, Chargone, Prince of Angermanland, received word of this almost at the same time as he heard of the northern skirmish. seeing which way the winds could blow, he also began making plans.

dispatching his his marshal and two thousand men to the northern border to re-enforce the guards of the various lords there, as well as provide garrisons for crossing points and border forts, he dispatched one Pi uph Joulin to the south with another two thousand men, to both re-enforce the defense and support any attacks which might be made against dangerous foes.

but this too would take some weeks. for the moment, the lords were on their own.

Richard floated in a world of chaos, fires burnt in all directions while devil headed monsters fought beneath him. In the distance a volcano erupted viciously, sending a wall of fire and earth into the two armies that fought below. The sky was black, no stars and no moon. Richard found his gaze fixated upon one one monster fleeing, running up what looked like a tall hill. It would not be tall enough. Richard flew down to help the monster, reaching out and offering a hand.

"Come with me! We can fly from here!" The monster stared at Richard with malevolant blood red eyes.

"You are Beast." The Monster spoke with a rough gutter voice. "I do not trust Beast."

The wave of earth and fire consumed the monster, and King Richard of Frozopia did not have time to escape.....


"Frozopia is in trying times. To the south our "Allies" are mobilising on what appears to be a large scale. Our King lies in a fevered state, on a thin line between life and death. He has no heirs of age. We sit here arguing over what must be done: Well I bring a solution. I suggest we form a council of all the prominent lords of Frozopia and the prominent members of the Kings court. I believe all who are present here to be considered the prominent. We will hold a vote to choose the head of the council, and reelect a new head every year. Whoever is head of the council will make decisions that can be vetoed by a majority vote of the council. This council and its head will rule untill the King has recovered or untill his heir is of age."

Kane spoke infront of the most powerfull men in Frozopia, all of whom looked concerned at the turn of events. But beneath Lord Kane knew many were gleeful as he was at this bit of fortune.

"Those who wish to be head of the council stand forward now. I will be nominating myself."

Two other men stood forward. One was the infamous battle lord Ragrad who had refused to join the axemen, causing an enimity ever since. Ragrad did not understand the subtleties enough to lead, and everyone knew it. Lord Crawford also stood up. He was a smart and strong Lord, but he did not have the support to become head. Lord Kane was relieved to see none of his associates stand, among whom were the only ones who could compete for the position. They had kept to their word.

"We will hold the election tonight. Good luck gentlemen!"

The camouflaged fellow stalked across the hilly plains with the ease of a hunting lion. Skills once used for passing along narrow, rocky paths up a mountain were now put to use scouting (again) ahead for the large traveling caravan of March Baron Gottfried Straghov. Former March Baron, that is. The details it seemed would remain hazy for a time, or so the hidden man thought as he passed over another hill and walked in a zig-zag line down its slope, scanning the land before him like a wary hawk.

It had been a week since the column had exited the terrible mountains of the Empire's edge, thought by some to be the end of the world, and entered into the fertile lands beyond. It surprised many of the more uneducated farmers, but for most it was only a weary acceptance that they had found a possible home. The fact that they might be on another's land didn't occur to the Baron and his men until they started coming upon small villages.

They were small and well built townships. The people spoke a language not dissimilar to the Northern Tongues, but far enough different that only Kale and his partner Harne had to become translators. However that unwanted task rarely rose. Most of the villages had a small palisade wall around it, more of a psychological defense than anything that could stand up to a determined assault, and each had closed its gates upon catching sight of Baron Straghov's people.

The young son of the Baron had been openly mad at the villages and had urged his father to sack the villages for their impudent disrespect towards them. The Master at Arms however had shook his aged head and scolded the young man. They were small villages with hardly enough grain or food to feed themselves. To allow such a large group of people in, even for a day, would exhaust them of their stores and probably send many to their deaths come winter. Even at the risk of being attacked they would bar their gates. Some would not even take in the sick from the traveling band.

Kale topped another rise and suddenly stood stock-still. Ahead of him, his eye measuring it at what seemed 3 to 7 miles, was a large dust cloud. A dust cloud as large as it could only mean either a large group of people on foot or a decently sized group of people on horses. And the fact that they might be armed and actually troops did ring through Kale's head with alarm. They were heading south. Someone knew of the Baron's arrival into these lands and now it's masters would come to ensure their safety.

The scout bit his lip and brought out of his pack a long pole of a type he himself had made. Using a small clear crystal which he inserted mid-way into a hole in the pole he gazed into it. Figures leaped up in stark relief as his vision was magnified a hundred fold. It was a trick his father had taught him, science so he said from the elves of Niva, but seemed more like Magic to ignorant folk. He saw cavalry, armored figures riding on tall war horses, infantry, soldiers bearing all sorts of weapons in array, and he knew that this force outnumbered the Baron's force by at least 2 to 1. He had to get back and alert the Baron.

By evening he reached back to the camp.

It was a flat area with a single low slopping hill at its center next to a decently sized forest, several square miles in size, where the Baron had made his camp. Because he was in need of a sure shelter before the potentials of a harsh winter the Baron had pitched camp and started his soldiers to digging and chopping.

After three days of back breaking work a 3 meter wide ditch some 5 feet deep had been dug in a wide circle. Behind the ditch, using wood from the forest and the dirt from the ditch, an earth and palisade wall had been erected. The Baron's engineers, taught by the masterful Dwarves, had even erected a decent gate with a drawbridge that could be pulled up through a system of ropes and pulleys. Two small towers stood like sentinels to either side of the gate.

The camp itself had been arrayed in a clean-cut military fashion. All the livestock had been gated off to one side. Peasants and their families were given large leather tents in which to stay and the men at arms camped in their own tents, positioned all beside the walls in company sized groups. The baron himself slept in an extra-large covered wagon that had a full sized bed in it. Such, Kale thought as he passed under the camp gate, was the result of being a wealthy noble and therefore able to afford such luxury as a goose feather bed.

Kale walked with unerring steps through the camp. People waved at him as he passed and men-at-arms gave respectful nods. He finally reached the tent of the Master-of-Arms. Dieter himself was inside looking over a map with only the southern edge of it filled in. All the rest was slowly taking form. The older man looked up from his work as Kale entered.

"I have urgent news sir," spoke Kale. He came forward and pressed his finger on the map, just a few inches away from the small circle marked 'camp'. "An armed force of men is marching south towards us at pace."

"Armed force!?" asked Dieter, disbelief evident. "You're sure?"

"I saw it with my own eyes," stated Kale.

"How many? When will they be here?"

"At least 2,000; a mix of cavalry and infantry. And if they continue at the same pace they are at now, then they will be here by nightfall tomorrow," reported Kale bleakly.

"Very well," sniffed Dieter, raising up and putting his hands behind his back. "I thank you for your work. Go eat and rest. I shall send you out tomorrow well before mid-day to judge these oncoming forces. Perhaps they will not want to fight..."

The last part of the Master-of-Arms sentence was more to himself than to Kale and the wise scout quietly bowed and left the tent. When he turned about to face the flame of cooking fires and smell the shifting breeze filled with spices his belly rumbled with hunger. He hadn't eaten a real meal in a day and a night. Without another thought of potentially approaching danger he walked like the possessed towards the nearest fire to fill his stomach with stew.

Straghov's estimate had been off by a huge margin. while he had received messengers stating that Lady Pi would soon be arriving with another two thousand men under arms, and thus had been willing to pull the full force available to him from the local defense of his borders and lands for this ... whatever it ended up being, Amaziah had only a thousand men behind him.

Simon's estimates had been closer to the truth. the exact force mix had come out slightly differently, with a heavier weighting towards heavy infantry than archers and even split, but other than that...

in the vanguard rode five knights and twenty horsemen. the rearguard was much the same, while another twenty horsemen rode down each flank and ten knights formed a bodyguard around Amaziah and Simon in the center of the column. immediately behind those vanguard marched one hundred men at arms, armed with sword and shield. behind them, a hundred archers. lastly, immediately before the Count's bodyguard, one hundred heavy infantry, armed with halberds. behind Amaziah traveled what wagons and baggage the army had, which was surprisingly little for such a force, and then this pattern repeated it's self in reverse.

swiftly and silently, before and behind, and on both flanks, some three hundred more men moved, in small groups, individually, as stealthily as so many men could move, in a pattern dictated more by the ground it's self than any inclination to formation, were the ouhjavelinade. 'those who cast javelins'. elite skirmishers of the army of Angermanland. hunters, harassers, chasers and setters of ambushes. each man carried a light shield, some sort of hand weapon ranging from the oddly shaped 'eel blade' to the long sword or spear, and five javelins. the javelins were made so that they could be retrieved later, though this did have the unfortunate effect of sometimes allowing an enemy to throw them back. but this is why the slings were used, to give the extra range and thus make that possibility unlikely to be effective. so long as one's foe didn't also have such things, at least.

even Frozopian axemen were wary of ouhjavalinade. not fearful, but showing a health respect for their potential. while the Angerman lancers would ride you down and spit you if you didn't protect yourself properly with pikes, while their knights would cheerfully beat you into the ground in glorious combat, their archers shoot you full of holes until you died or killed them, and their infantry fight boldly until either you fled or died, or they were ordered to withdraw, it was the casters of javalins who won wars and battles. disrupting supply lines, intercepting messengers, coming from flank and rear thought secure to volley shaft after shaft into one's rear.

at this moment, one of the men placed in charge of the forward members of these scouts reported to Amaziah

"my lord, they have erected a fortification that, while simple, will be hard to break if that is what must be done, at least until siege equipment can be brought up.

however, indications are that reports greatly over estimated their strength. while there may be two thousand or more of them, their actual fighting men number closer to one thousand. amongst this group are women, children, peasants, servants, baggage... far more than is usual for an army. those men sent close to investigate reported that if they didn't know better they'd swear some of the women were nobility, from how they acted.

if we maintain our pace, we will be there by nightfall tomorrow. however, if my lord is willing to leave behind the baggage and the slowest of his men, we could reach them by midday of that day. if my lord were willing to use only cavalry and ouhjavalinade, then we could, perhaps, be there and in place to attack by dawn."

"very well. Simon, what do you think?"

"my lord, if you were to attack them and drive them off, i would advise sending the fastest distance runners first, reguardless of troop type, with myself at their head, followed by the next fastest distance runners, then the fastest middle distance runners, then the next fastest middle distance runners, keeping the slow long and middle distance runners, as well as the sprinters, with you and fresh until the end, and marching at a steady and reasonable pace all the while.

however, if you wish to see who they are, and what they want... i would suggest sending a messenger back to Lady Pi asking for her expertise and some of her engineers, in case we must attack their fortification, and then simply continuing as we are. there is no better defensive formation to take up while marching, and if they have any wisdom and ability, it is likely we have already been spotted, or at least our main column has."

"mmmm. i see your point. Alexander!" the ouhjavalinade inclined his head "take the ouhjavalinade, and advance at best speed with all stealth. take up positions for surprise and advantage, then await the standard signal, should it become an issue once the main force arrives. if they detect and aprroch you before we get there, do not reveal any other groups, and inform them that we are aproaching and that i will talk to them upon our arrival. go!"

"my liege!" the man bowed, then dashed off sideways. shortly there after, an eye trained to see them, if it's owner knew where they were, would see a distinct ripple as the outer scout screen dissolved into a stream of fast moving infantry, who would, all going to plan, arrive well ahead of the main force.

"hope for peace, prepare for war. strive for victory, plan for the possibility of defeat. always look for the advantage." the count quoted

"indeed. Prime Minister Deehow was a wise and great man. the principality is the worse off without him." Simon responded "but his principles and wisdom are still valid."

"it is said that Lady Pi surpasses him in the art of war and invention, and perhaps also in other areas, but is not his equal in the ways of the court, diplomacy and, put politely 'knowing when to keep her fool mouth shut', to quote the prince himself."

"mmm. we shall see."

the two men rode on in silence, the column around them making little noise aside from the steady marching of boots and resultant shifting of armor.

Lord Kane won the election, taking 3/4 of the votes. The other 1/4th were split in their support of Crawford and Ragrad. Lord Kane's associates stuck to their word. And thus it was the dawn of a new day that Lord Kane gathered the council to begin what they had planned, what gift the gods had granted them by cursing the King with his feverish sickness that left him immobilised and moaning in his bed.

The Fourty-seven men were gathered in the Kings court, seated while Kane stood. It was an ancient room in the great Castle that dominated the Frozopian capital and the woods that surrounded it. Sun light streamed through the windows. Another fine springs day. On the throne, a 4 year old prince sat on the Queens lap. The young women was beautiful but stress and worry had taken its toll on the poor girl, Kane realised.

"Gentlemen. I told you yesterday that the forces of Anger are mobilising. Its true. We have maintained a peace with those southerners for a long time, for it was a matter of honor for the King and his father before him. They both did King Rendon proud, the first King to sign this treaty and our great Kings Grandfather."

"But now we must go to war. Now that the enemy prepares for war themselves, we can only conclude that they smell the weak position our Great Kings illness has put us in. Perhaps they expect us to be indecisive? Perhaps they expect us to crumble, to fall upon each other and tear the country apart so that they can mop up the pieces?"

"They plan treachery. They will come with their sneaky ouhjavalinade, crossing the southern river to strike at our cities and towns like lightning. Tearing wealth from the people and its land, forcing us into exile and starvation."

Lord Kane paused to let his words sink in
"What they do not realise is Frozopia is made for war. Every Frozopian, large and small, carries that burning lust for combat, that need for battle. That hunger to destroy their enemy. We are strong. They are weak. And thus we must strike first."

"Our forces have kept their strength. The Throwing Axemen are still second to none in their battle prowess and loyalty. We have all sent men to fight against the tribes. Our blades are sharpe, our horses strong, our men brave."

"With your support we go to war. We will reclaim the glory and wealth of old Frozopia, we will punish these southerners for ever considering betraying Frozopia!"

The court roared their support. A few remained silent, looking uneasy but they were the minority. Swiftly, while the mens blood were up Lord Kane held the election. Hands shot up everywhere. Roughly 4/5ths of the council supported the decision.

"Then it is so. Let your peasants gather their crops for the moment, but when Summer comes I want all the men of Frozopia ready for war. Remember each man you bring will increase the wealth you can gain, remember this council speaks for the King. Any refusals to support us will be considered treason. Soon we will select a leader for the army. I will also begin my own search for mercenaries. For the moment this should remain a secret. Tell anyone else we are mounting a large scale offensive on the tribes should they inquire to the reason of mobilising your forces."

Lord Kane spent the next two hours talking a little bit more about the war, drilling the lords on the importance of secrecy. He knew despite his efforts that someone would eventually blab and that it would reach the southerners ears. Hopefully it would be too late by then. Nothing could be done about that.

In the meanwhile Kane sent out several of his own personal Guard to search for mercenaries across the land and even further to the north and east, even a few to the west. Each of the personal guard had battle experience: they would recognise high caliber mercenaries if they saw them. At the same time they had gold and horses at every town waiting for them. They would scour the land quickly.....

Jakob Fenix watched over his archer group, training. Most of them were battle-hardned, but there were a few raw recruits among them. One especially couldn't even draw the bow back to full length. He walked along the line to him.
"Archers need muscles, lad. You sure your strong enough?" The soldier was about to answer when Fenix held up his hand.
"Save it, just work on it, ok?" He saw a rider, dressed in armor, approaching.
"Hello, friend. Looking for a few extra hands?"

The rider nodded, eyeing the archers. Most of them seemed to know what they were doing, punching shafts through the distant targets. Nickolas's contacts had served him well. It had taken time but eventually someone had pointed him towards a large band of travelling mercenaries. After that it was only a matter of tracking the large group down.

"Are you in charge? I am a servant of the crown of Frozopia. We are in need of good fighting men, and your men seem to fit the bill. How many of you are there? I assume you are not all archers?"

"Theres about 600 of us archers, 300 cavalrymen and 350 swordsmen. Question is, how much are you willing to pay?"

"You can expect 20 Frozopian Silvers per man per month from when the contract begins. We will also supply meals. I will stay with you for 20 days and then we depart for a town called Dorburg. In that time I can inspect your troops as you train them. Once we leave it shouldnt take more than 20 days to get there. Your contract will begin on arrival, and you will be paid a lump sum of 5000 Frozopian silvers for your efforts thus far." Nikolas smiled and held out his hand.

"My name is Nikolas, Personal Guardian of Lord Kane. You are?"

"Sounds agreeable." He shook Nikolas' hand. "I'm Jakob Fenix, leader of the Pack Rat's." He turned around and yelled at the archers. They lined up, with the swordsmen behind in full battle armor.
"These are the archers and swordsmen. I trust they are to your liking, sirrah?"
The archers wore light, leather armor and no helmets. They wore worn sandals and had sacks of arrows around their waists. The swordsmen wore iron armor, full of dents, and carried broadswords and shields painted in the Fenix colors and emblazoned with a rat. The helmets had crescent moons and a spattering of silver stars. They would hold until either they won or they were dead, as all the Pack Rats had no more than battle to live for.

"Over the next few days I want to see them drilled with the various formations and techniques. Frozopia needs the finest soldiers it can get. If your men perform well on the battlefield they will be rewarded. Now. Where are these horsmen of yours? Are they light or heavy cavalry?"

"They are light cavalry, armed with a small barbed javelin and scythes. They throw the javelins in, then slice with the scythes. They are fairly good at fighting pikemen as well, but obviously are better at attacking archers and swordsmen."

"Good."
Nikolas turned to the lined up infantry, raising his voice for all to hear.

"I want you men up at sun rise tomorrow. We are gonna drill you to perfection before we march South."

Nikolas nodded to Fenix.
"Now if ya can excuse me, Ive been riding all day. I need to tend to this horse and then rest."

"Sure." Fenix turned to his men.
"All right, lads. That's enough for today and we got a full day of drilling ahead of us. You can rest." Fenix and the rest of the soldiers dispersed.

Kale, wrapped in tight fitting black clothing and face covered in fire camp ash, almost felt pity for the alert sentries of the armed force of men that had come, they thought, in secret upon the encampment of Baron Straghov. Kale was an experienced scout and an accomplished ranger and therefore found little trouble in circumventing the men of the north. Hiding in shadow Kale listened to their speech and since it was close in composition to his own he came to slowly understand them. It seemed that these were light troops sent ahead of the main army body. Their commander was obviously a cautious fellow, though Kale didn't blame him.

Instead of returning the way he came Kale exited the small camp of javelin-toting soldiers, heading north, and then went around them to enter the Straghov encampment from the south. It took time, but it assured that he would go unnoticed by the supposed enemies outside.

Dieter was waiting for him at the postern gate. "Did they detect you?" the older man asked in a hushed, worried tone.

"I wouldn't be here if they had," remarked Kale. "Theres under about 800 or more men...I guess...out there. Their light troops, sent ahead of the main group."

"Do you think they plan to attack now, at night?" the stress in the Master of Arm's face was evident even in darkness. The thought of foes descending upon them had forced Dieter to man the walls of their palisade with near 400 men-at-arms, their crossbows pulled and bolts loaded, waiting.

"No," reasoned Kale. "It would seem they will wait before their main army gets here along with their leader. I assume they don't know quite what to make of us. Those men outside thought they were here undetected but showed no overt sign of hostility."

Dieter nodded and motioned for the wily ranger to follow him. They walked through the quiet camp in silence, passing fading fires and sleeping men and women. Children lay wrapped in their mothers arms and thick blankets. The sight of a small boy wrapped in a fair young mothers arms sent a pang of loss through Kale's chest. He'd lost his son and young wife no more than three winters past to a raid of brigands. He'd hunted them down to a one and repaid them in kind.

They entered a tent that had several braziers lit and alert guards standing outside it. Dieter ushered them in without being challenged, the old Master of Arms recognizable on sight.

Awaiting inside was Lord Straghov, Lady Straghov, and their herald Martin Philip of Azure. Once again, even in a darkened tent, Kale was taken away by the beauty of his lord's wife. Lady Aliana Straghov (http://img228.imageshack.us/my.php?image=noellefemaleelfwarriorbhk7.jpg) was of elven decent Kale could tell, by the slight pointedness of her ears and smoothness of her skin. She had married Lord Gottfried Straghov more than fifteen years ago, and had provided them a startling beautiful daughter. Lady Straghov's ebony hair was smooth and silk like in the light of flaming braziers and her bright, ice-blue eyes narrowed as the two men entered. Kale was wary of her, for he knew she was as skilled with a rapier or saber as well as any of the household knights.

Dieter and Kale bowed. "I bring news sire," said Dieter without preamble. "A force of light soldiery await outside, they think, in secret. Our ranger here believes they will simply wait until their leader comes to parley with us."

"We hope they will only parley," added Kale. "For their army could be much larger than I originally thought. I noticed at sundown another cloud of dust approaching from the north-west. Two groups are joining together to join the men already outside."

"This does not bode well," said Lady Straghov, looking at her husband with care.

Gottried Straghov sighed and frowned. He was a tall man and very broad of shoulder. Fiery red hair fell below his shoulders and bright green eyes stared with strength and piercing knowledge at Kale. He was not a man to be taken lightly, Kale had seen that when the Baron had taken fought and defeated five well armed Orcs at once.

Lord Straghov turned to his herald. "Well Martin, do you think you've mastered their tongue yet?"

"I believe so. With Kale's help it's been rather easy," said the herald with a smoothness of voice that gave away his station.

"Then let us hope that when dawn comes they will accept our banner of truce and listen to our plight," declared Straghov. "For now though, lets get rest."


* * * * *


With dawn the encampment woke up and fires were light for the morning breakfast. Soldiers along the walls were replaced and the household knights prepared to mount up in the case of battle. All eyes turned to the gate where the Herald stood by his well groomed horse and dressed in the livery of his lord.

Martin sighed to himself and climbed into the saddle. An attendant gave him the large banner that bore the emblazoned image of the Straghovs: a laughing red wolf upon a field of black. The gates yawned open and a team of men struggled with the drawbridge and finally set it to ground. Martin raised his head high and rode out.

He hadn't gone more than 300 meters out of the small camp before he saw formations of men and mounted riders. He road toward them and stopped outside of shouting distance, though well within longbow range.

"I am Martin Philip of Azure, herald of the Lord Baron Gottfried von Straghov of the Empire of Thrashia. I bare forth a flag of truce and ask parley with your lord and master," he proclaimed aloud in his best voice. He hoped he got the dialect right.

"humm. they would speak with us, it seems. but i'm quite sure i've never heard of any such empire, nor his lord. have you, Simon?"

"not so far as i know of. Frozopia to the north, barbarians to the south, neigh impenetrable mountains to the west, and the great forest to the east. such has always been how it is, in what i know of our histories."

"indeed. still, this herald, at least, can speak well enough. even if his accent is quite odd. feh. Simon, see to the men. i will take three knights and meet this herald."

"yes, sir."

orders were given, and shortly there after Amaziah rode forth trailed by knights bearing his own banner, that of the prince, and the flag of parley.

behind him, Simon deployed the men in preparation for any assault which might take place, halberds protecting bowmen with cavalry in reserve and knights commanding sub units. if a siege were necessary... well, he hoped it would not be, but he knew how to break a fortified position well enough.


as he reached the herald, Amaziah reigned in his horse and spoke clearly "we have never heard of your lord, your empire, or your people. your name is nothing but something to call you by, and your heraldry is nothing.

you trespass upon the lands given into my responsibility by Chargone, prince of Angermanland, and i would know the reason for it.

can you read the runic and heraldic scripts?" he gestured towards the banners "or must i also name myself? it is I you wish to speak with, regardless. speak, Martin Philip ouhSutland."

"Varily my lord do I understand that you've not heard of us. For in truth I and my Lord have not heard of you!" declared Martin, his voice clear and devoid of animosity. He knew this haughty lord could probably send his forces upon them and destroy them down to a man, and wished only to bridge an understanding with him.

"I understand you to be lord and protector of these lands milord," said Martin, bowing in the saddle towards Amaziah. "Though in truth when my lord and his train arrived here we thought this land would be empty and without a steward. We come from a land far in the south, beyond the World's Spine Mountains. My lord baron was exiled from our far off Empire due to political necessity in our provincial capital, and forced north. Thus have we entered your lands.

"But I assure you we come in peace and with only to find a new home." As Martin spoke a second rider issued forth from the gates of the encampment behind him, this time armored like a knight but bearing no lance or unsheathed weapon. The crest of a laughing wolf was inlaid in silver across his chest plate. His fiery red hair flew in the wind as he approached.

He stopped beside Martin and bowed in recognition to the Northern lord before him. "Well met Lord of the North. I am March Maron Gottfried Straghov, a stranger to your lands and a peaceful one. As my herald here has spoken to you, we wish only peace and to find a new home. Might we find one here?"

" as i told your herald, at this point your titles and heraldry are meaningless, and your name means nothing save a convenient way to identify you, for none of these things are recorded, and nothing you've done is known.

as for giving you a home... well, perhaps if the benefit you bring is worth the price. a representative of the prince is on the way here. we shall discuss the details when she arrives. who knows, the prince might have use for you even if i don't.

now, i ask you as i ask your herald (and i note he did not answer). can you read the heraldic and runic scripts?"

Both Martin and Baron Straghov shook their heads. "We've never seen the like of your script," answered Martin. "Though we have our own from our own lands. Indeed, what kingdom can survive without the ability to write and record the deeds of its rulers and people?"

"feh... ignorant forigeners" Amaziah hardly even bothered to lower his voice when speaking such thoughts aloud, "very well, in that case i must introduce myself, i suppose. I am Amaziah, count of the sutworlands, among other things. i suggest you learn to read the heraldry, at least. it speaks volumes about a person. family, training, guild affiliations, the list goes on, and even the peasantry have their heraldry recorded, even if they cannot afford to wear it except on their best suit of clothes.

come. if you want what you say you do, pick a small escort, and i shall do the same. we'll leave our forces here, i think under our seconds. a representative of the prince is on her way here already, we shall ride to meet her.

of course, most like she'll just take you to see the prince in person... but at least you won't be My responsibility anymore."

Baron Straghov was sorely tempted to whip out his great axe and take a swing at the pompous man, but knew it would be bad manners to the local prince if he were to spill the man's blood. So he swallowed hard and nodded at the suggestion. He turned to Martin.

"Ride back and inform the Baroness of this. Also, alert Captain Hauclir that he is to bring up 10 of the household knights," ordered Gottfried.

The herald nodded and gave a wary look at his liege lord. He didn't allow himself to say something of what he thought on the current predicament so he simply shrugged and rode back to the encampment. He passed under the gate and didn't return the worried looks of the men-at-arms standing on the earth-made parapet. It would do no good to worry them.

He arrived in front of Captain Hauclir's tent and shouted out for the man. A tall and burly man, a head taller than Martin, stepped forward. He wore heavy plate armour yet walked with the grace of a cat. Several scars showed white lines on his bald head from past battles. He grinned toothily at Martin.

"Aye herald, I'm here."

"Pick ten of your best men and ride out to accompany the Baron. He is going to meet the lord of this land and requires an escort," said Martin stonily.

While Martin rode away to inform Straghov's wife, the Household Knight Captain strode over to his mount and the platoon of men he'd already assembled in case of trouble. "We're going to be pampered today men! We're to be our lord's escort," he joked. Then his tone got serious. "Keep your eyes open and your swords loose. I don't trust these bastards anymore than I can throw 'em."

"Then that must be pretty far," joked one of the knights. The group rumbled and clanked in their armour as laughter echoed out. Captain Hauclir smiled and then mounted up. He raised his gauntlet and swung his fist down. With a thunderous rumbled the eleven men cantered out of the encampment and came to rest beside their lord.

Straghov nodded to his trusted captain and then faced the Count Amaziah. "We'll, I'm ready to meet this prince."

preparations were made, and the two groups set out. a few days ride to the north, they encountered mounted scouts from the forces under the command of Lady Pi uph Joulin, and two days later her main force. here Amaziah happily passed off all responsibility for the southerners, beyond ensuring that those still in their camp were fed and made aware of the laws.

Pi herself was an energetic young woman with a sharp wit and keen sense of humor. having been made aware of events in the south, she sent half of her men on with the count, and retained the other half for the return journey to the capital, from whence they could be redeployed as needed.

"hah. the prince should be grateful for your help, Straghov, should you and your men be willing to lend your blades to his cause. like as not he'll reward you well enough for such services. be careful though, he doesn't suffer fools gladly. probably won't have you beheaded or anything, but don't be surprised if you get chucked out of the capital for a while if you annoy him sufficiently." she grinned disarmingly "and don't worry much about Amaziah. pompous twit. i went to school with him actually... always so full of himself... though to be fair, it's more because that's how he thinks a count ought to be, more than his natural inclination, and he is smart enough to listen to his advisers, and choose good ones in the first place. his marshal, Simon, is one of the best... The best, save perhaps Mathias... errr, that's the prince's marshal... not the worst count ever, either. Amaziah that is. Very irritating person, great count..."

most of the rest of the trip was taken up with similar talk, all the things the foreigners should know before meeting the prince, information about the principality, all delivered in a manner resembling friendly and idle chatter. though somehow Pi managed never to give away anything important about the strategic situation. better safe than sorry, after all.

some days later, they arrived at the ouhAngermanland capital of Angerwraith, a great, walled city. in truth, as had been evidenced on the trip, the Only truly walled city in the entire principality. most villages and towns were walled only as much as necessary to hold off random bandit raids or wild animals, and further in from the border even this was done away with.

"my friends, Welcome to Angerwraith!" Pi announced with a flourish, standing upon her saddle in a most precarious manner, yet not even seeming to wobble as the horse trotted along. "if you'll look to your left, you'll see some fields and a great big freak'n' wall. to your right, more of the same. directly in front of us... a gate! how interesting! let's all look at the gate!" she turned and stared at it for a moment "ok, so it's just a big gate. moving right along. Oy! Samuel!" she called out, and a messenger called a response and rode up "go ahead and tell the prince i'm back with guests. Michal!" one of her officers rode up "you know the drill. the army camps outside the gates, off the road and out of the way. odds are good that the men will be sent home, but also just as good that we'll be sent north, so keep them in order, right?"
"yes ma'am"

as he rode off, the young commander took great pleasure in a catlike, full body stretch, somehow still not loosing her footing "well, my friends, it's good to be home." dropping to the saddle in a single smooth motion, then somehow managing to end up lounging along it as if it were a reclining chair, she stared at the sky "we'll give the boys a head start, and time to prepare, so just take it easy, k?" so saying, she flicked the reigns with her foot, and her horse slowed to the point where even the foot soldiers were passing by.




meanwhile, Samuel made good time and was being admited to see the prince before the southerners even got to the city's southern main gate.

"your highness, the messenger Samuel from the force under the command of Lady Pi uph Joulin."

the messenger entered and bowed before his lord "your highness, i bring word. my lady enters the city as we speak, and half her force is camping outside the walls. the other half was sent on with count Amaziah to guard the southern routs."

"somehow, i doubt that's all there is to it. what did she Say, Samuel?" the prince grinned.

"err.. that she was back with guests, your highness. i expect she wishes to tell you anything more detailed herself. or possibly surprise you somehow"

"heh. with that girl, one never quite knows. how many guests?"

"twelve, highness"

"well, we'll see what she has to say for herself when they arive then. Edgar!"

"yes highness?" the prince's chancellor inclined his head slightly

"rooms for Lady Pi and twelve guests, if you please, i suspect they've traveled a long way, so baths will probably be appreciated soon. ... feh, what am i telling you for? it's your job! go do it!"

"indeed, your highness" the chancellor grinned before taking his leave.