The Gift from Father
Stephan had been reviewing the day's notes from his councilmen when the squire entered the tent. They had just finished another day of hard marching through the Old Dwarf Pass and had just broken camp. According to Sir Martin, a member of the King's Guard that served as Stephan's campaigner, the armies covered close to 70 miles over the last day, and were now less than half a day's ride from Zvorak. Tomorrow they would pay the toll to cross the River Skiros, give a gift of gold to the lord of the city, and continue south to Thessos hopefully by nightfall. From there the target of Barak Varr was less than three days of hard marching along the wide Silk Road.
The squire was one of his father's, a young boy of less than fifteen years. He was in his riding clothes still when he entered the tent and handed Stephan the message. The squire bowed to leave the tent, at which time Stephan broke the wax seal of the parchment sent by his father.
The seal broke with a snap, pieces of green wax speckled across Stephan's lap as he unfurled the parchment. In his father's writing the note said,
My Dearest Son,
I must see you in my tent tonight. A pegasus rider from the King arrived today with a great gift and troublesome news. Please bring your council.
Your liege-lord and father,
Scot
Stephan tossed the letter into the small basket of coals that warmed the tent. He stood, grabbed his gear and went for the entrance of the tent. When he exited his guardsmen hastily saluted. He barked the order, "Fetch my council and tell them to meet me at my father's tent," and strode off to his father.
When he entered his father was sitting around a table with his own war council, looking over a map and a piece of parchment with many calculations scratched on it. Sir Beal held a goose feather pen and was making additional notes on the paper while the group discussed some urgent news. When Stephan entered the group barely paused in breath to look. Sir Corbett acknowledged Stephan presence first with the words, "My Lord, it is urgent we pass this news to you and Robert."
"And what is this news?" Stephan inquired.
"The Sigmarites. Three armies, each as massive as our own," said Eddard with a sigh. "We had enough trouble to deal with the beasts and monsters of the badlands, to add a full invasion force from the Empire, it appears that our fight will be much harder than first anticipated."
"A pegasus rider from the King arrived today. It tells us that the Empire is moving to capture the flying fortress in force. Three armies, one from Averland, led by some noble Falkenrath, the second from Wissenland, led by some Baron Von Seitz, and the last a pilgrim's horde led by a former arch lector, one Clausewitz. This is a big move by the Empire, one the King has taken much notice of and has starting moving soldiers to the guard the Grey Mountain passes and to prepare for war in Marienburg if need be." Said Sir Smith.
"Also the letter indicated that the Dwarfs have already made a deal with the Empire and offered some support in men and arms. We are still negotiating passage through Barak Varr, and this news troubles us. If the Dwarfs of Barak Varr side with the Empire there will be no safe supply train from home," Scot said with a hint of worry in his voice. "We have sent a rider to the Elves and Lizardmen in an attempt to negotiate a safe flank. We need allies and I don't think we can trust the Empire in this case. They lust after land and would put our nobility for the sword for refusing to bow to that false prophet."
They were right. With an army that size from the Empire moving to counter the crusade, it was clear that the Empire had plans beyond the Badlands. He'd hate to make alliances with creatures from beyond the human lands, but the elves were faithful if you gave them reason to be, unlike the dwarfs, who were only faithful to gold and glittery things. He had an idea, "Is there opportunity for a rupture in the command of this Empire army? Three separate commanders, with no one to direct the overall plan? It sounds like a disaster made possible only in the bureaucracy of the Sigmarites."
Sir Turner spoke up, "There are rumors of tensions, but nothing substantial. If there is one thing the Empire can do well, it is inspire men to die for false gods."
During the conversation Stephan's councilmen had joined the gathering. At Turner's words entered Sir Robert. He had with him Stephan's brother. Robert said, "What is this noise about Sigmarites?"
Stephan placed a hand on his grandfather's solder, "They march to war against us. A splintered force, but three times our size."
Robert made a growl of displeasure at the thought of war with the Empire, "I fought the Sigmarites many times during my time in the Grey Mountains. Their lords are cowards who let peasants die by thousands while they collect their taxes and calculate their profits of war. Are they attempting to annex the borderlands?"
Sir Corbett replied, "We know not. The King prepares an army to move against Marienburg if conflicts erupt into war here."
"I'll kill myself some young Empire lords if given the chance," said Robert, anger in his voice. He must have bitter memories of the campaigns against the ambitious land grabbing attempts made by the Empire in earlier centuries. Luckily Bretonnia had remained free from yoke of the Empire, and her resistance gave hope to the other human kingdoms of Kislev, Albion, Norsca, Estalia and Tilia that they would remain free. Robert prided himself in keeping the Empire from taking those mountain passes.
Scot had clearly tired of this conversation. "Enough of what may pass!" He barked, "Now that we are all here, let us discuss the gift." He reached for a blade wrapped in leather and cloth that until now Stephan hadn't noticed was on the table. Scot undid the knots in the leather wraps, and pulled from the cloth a great two handed bastard sword that shone like it had been freshly cast and oiled that day. Not a chip or dent appeared in the blade. Scot whispered, "The Questing Blade of Gilles."
The King's Guard members all rose from the table and took a knee before the blade, which prompted everyone else in the room to follow. Sir Corbett spoke, "Our King honors you Scot."
"Rise Stephan," said Scot. Stephan stood and stepped toward his father when he was motioned to, "This blade was our first King's. He used it when he himself took the vows of the quest. It was cast of Elven steel in Dwarven forges, while the mages and wizards from across the Kingdom cast runes of protection and agelessness into the blade. It does not dent, does not chip, and will never break. It is harder than diamonds and can cut a dragon's scales as easily as a man's flesh. And it has been blessed by the Lady of the Lake herself, cleansed by waters from the Holy Grail. To be given this blade is to be given a great duty, to hold a piece of history and to gain a claim on the throne of Bretonnian by wielding it into battle. Only a man who has taken the vow of the quest should use this blade, but he must pass it to another when the Lady appears before him. Thus Stephan, take this blade, and show the Lady you deserve the honor of using it."
Stephan took the hilt of the blade while the men of the tent began clapping. He tested the weight of the blade, which was much lighter than he expected. He returned the sword to its scabbard said, "The King honors me. I will vanquish his foes and bring him a flying fortress."
"Here! Here!" shouted Sir Beal, who took a glass of mead and rose it above his head. "The King showers the Schneiders with honors tonight. He has moved Sir Stephan here to a place in line of succession, obviously behind his own sons and those with more close blood ties, but from here on the line of Schneiders following Stephan will be considered members of the highest nobility." With the toast the other men drank their mead, with the only noticeable exception Sir Cris.
The squire was one of his father's, a young boy of less than fifteen years. He was in his riding clothes still when he entered the tent and handed Stephan the message. The squire bowed to leave the tent, at which time Stephan broke the wax seal of the parchment sent by his father.
The seal broke with a snap, pieces of green wax speckled across Stephan's lap as he unfurled the parchment. In his father's writing the note said,
My Dearest Son,
I must see you in my tent tonight. A pegasus rider from the King arrived today with a great gift and troublesome news. Please bring your council.
Your liege-lord and father,
Scot
Stephan tossed the letter into the small basket of coals that warmed the tent. He stood, grabbed his gear and went for the entrance of the tent. When he exited his guardsmen hastily saluted. He barked the order, "Fetch my council and tell them to meet me at my father's tent," and strode off to his father.
When he entered his father was sitting around a table with his own war council, looking over a map and a piece of parchment with many calculations scratched on it. Sir Beal held a goose feather pen and was making additional notes on the paper while the group discussed some urgent news. When Stephan entered the group barely paused in breath to look. Sir Corbett acknowledged Stephan presence first with the words, "My Lord, it is urgent we pass this news to you and Robert."
"And what is this news?" Stephan inquired.
"The Sigmarites. Three armies, each as massive as our own," said Eddard with a sigh. "We had enough trouble to deal with the beasts and monsters of the badlands, to add a full invasion force from the Empire, it appears that our fight will be much harder than first anticipated."
"A pegasus rider from the King arrived today. It tells us that the Empire is moving to capture the flying fortress in force. Three armies, one from Averland, led by some noble Falkenrath, the second from Wissenland, led by some Baron Von Seitz, and the last a pilgrim's horde led by a former arch lector, one Clausewitz. This is a big move by the Empire, one the King has taken much notice of and has starting moving soldiers to the guard the Grey Mountain passes and to prepare for war in Marienburg if need be." Said Sir Smith.
"Also the letter indicated that the Dwarfs have already made a deal with the Empire and offered some support in men and arms. We are still negotiating passage through Barak Varr, and this news troubles us. If the Dwarfs of Barak Varr side with the Empire there will be no safe supply train from home," Scot said with a hint of worry in his voice. "We have sent a rider to the Elves and Lizardmen in an attempt to negotiate a safe flank. We need allies and I don't think we can trust the Empire in this case. They lust after land and would put our nobility for the sword for refusing to bow to that false prophet."
They were right. With an army that size from the Empire moving to counter the crusade, it was clear that the Empire had plans beyond the Badlands. He'd hate to make alliances with creatures from beyond the human lands, but the elves were faithful if you gave them reason to be, unlike the dwarfs, who were only faithful to gold and glittery things. He had an idea, "Is there opportunity for a rupture in the command of this Empire army? Three separate commanders, with no one to direct the overall plan? It sounds like a disaster made possible only in the bureaucracy of the Sigmarites."
Sir Turner spoke up, "There are rumors of tensions, but nothing substantial. If there is one thing the Empire can do well, it is inspire men to die for false gods."
During the conversation Stephan's councilmen had joined the gathering. At Turner's words entered Sir Robert. He had with him Stephan's brother. Robert said, "What is this noise about Sigmarites?"
Stephan placed a hand on his grandfather's solder, "They march to war against us. A splintered force, but three times our size."
Robert made a growl of displeasure at the thought of war with the Empire, "I fought the Sigmarites many times during my time in the Grey Mountains. Their lords are cowards who let peasants die by thousands while they collect their taxes and calculate their profits of war. Are they attempting to annex the borderlands?"
Sir Corbett replied, "We know not. The King prepares an army to move against Marienburg if conflicts erupt into war here."
"I'll kill myself some young Empire lords if given the chance," said Robert, anger in his voice. He must have bitter memories of the campaigns against the ambitious land grabbing attempts made by the Empire in earlier centuries. Luckily Bretonnia had remained free from yoke of the Empire, and her resistance gave hope to the other human kingdoms of Kislev, Albion, Norsca, Estalia and Tilia that they would remain free. Robert prided himself in keeping the Empire from taking those mountain passes.
Scot had clearly tired of this conversation. "Enough of what may pass!" He barked, "Now that we are all here, let us discuss the gift." He reached for a blade wrapped in leather and cloth that until now Stephan hadn't noticed was on the table. Scot undid the knots in the leather wraps, and pulled from the cloth a great two handed bastard sword that shone like it had been freshly cast and oiled that day. Not a chip or dent appeared in the blade. Scot whispered, "The Questing Blade of Gilles."
The King's Guard members all rose from the table and took a knee before the blade, which prompted everyone else in the room to follow. Sir Corbett spoke, "Our King honors you Scot."
"Rise Stephan," said Scot. Stephan stood and stepped toward his father when he was motioned to, "This blade was our first King's. He used it when he himself took the vows of the quest. It was cast of Elven steel in Dwarven forges, while the mages and wizards from across the Kingdom cast runes of protection and agelessness into the blade. It does not dent, does not chip, and will never break. It is harder than diamonds and can cut a dragon's scales as easily as a man's flesh. And it has been blessed by the Lady of the Lake herself, cleansed by waters from the Holy Grail. To be given this blade is to be given a great duty, to hold a piece of history and to gain a claim on the throne of Bretonnian by wielding it into battle. Only a man who has taken the vow of the quest should use this blade, but he must pass it to another when the Lady appears before him. Thus Stephan, take this blade, and show the Lady you deserve the honor of using it."
Stephan took the hilt of the blade while the men of the tent began clapping. He tested the weight of the blade, which was much lighter than he expected. He returned the sword to its scabbard said, "The King honors me. I will vanquish his foes and bring him a flying fortress."
"Here! Here!" shouted Sir Beal, who took a glass of mead and rose it above his head. "The King showers the Schneiders with honors tonight. He has moved Sir Stephan here to a place in line of succession, obviously behind his own sons and those with more close blood ties, but from here on the line of Schneiders following Stephan will be considered members of the highest nobility." With the toast the other men drank their mead, with the only noticeable exception Sir Cris.
Comments
Post a Comment