King Harry and the Free Company: Book Two

[Lord Durham]

King Harry and the Free Company: Book Two

Welcome to the continuing adventures of EU's fabled mercenary company, bringing together some the best writing talent on the board.

This AAR is plot driven, an ongoing story that features RPG interaction among characters, their surroundings and historical events.

For those of you who are familiar with the concept from Burgundy: Origin of the Free Company or my Papacy AAR, then no further explanation is required.

For newcomers who wish to partake, or read for enjoyment, you'll find the closest thing in similarity is D&D. I will play a year at a time and record events. From there I will sketch out storylines and introduce the elements which the writers will work from. Typically one writer will do a piece and leave a 'hook' so someone else can step in and carry on. More often than not the writers will have their own subplots, adding further richness to the Free Company world.

Stories will range from war, campaigns, political situations, quests, battles, even marriages. They will be serious and lighthearted, gripping, sad, and funny.

The only rules are: Stay within the spirit of the story-telling (i.e. - no silliness or totally OOC posts) and no killing off another person's character unless prearranged. Additionally I ask that dates/times be used in the headings for continuity sake, and finally, try to accompany all OOC posts with a legitimate post, even if it's a few lines. I want to try and keep the thread size down relative to the content.

A new rule I am instituting covers writers that introduce a character, hang around for a few posts, then disappear. If it appears the writer will not return, then the character will be assumed to have departed the Company's employ. I know the pace of this AAR is fast and can be complicated at times, so I ask that potential writers that wish to join think about what they're getting into.

There is a rather primitive web-page with as much back-ground information as possible (that is, when I get the chance to update it). I will continue the tradition of campaign and battle maps and other maps of interest.

The current roster of writers are:

LD
Sgt.Bloomfield
Rictus
Misha
Storey
Barkdreg
Derek Pullem
Sharur
H_S
stickman
Cockney
Rath Jones
shawng1
Baron Zenholt
Timothy
MrT
driftwood
Blademonkey
Sytass
HolisticGod

Writers like Ivan the Mellow, TheF, ThePole, Sagan, hjarg, and Danius have either gone MIA or have RL to deal with. If I have missed anyone, my apologies.

Hope you enjoy...

[Sgt. Bloomfield]

This is a five-star thread if I've ever seen one.

[Lord Durham]

OOC: Only if you're a fan of great writing.


CHAPTER SEVEN: A NEW LEASE


October 29, 1419: Tours, Berri


After completing affairs in the city of Dijon, the Free Company marched due west toward Berri. Their leaving of the Burgundians was a mixture of sadness and relief. Duke Phillipe was proving to be an able leader, possessing a strong personalty. Captain knew the man would need his wits to stay alive among the noble factions of that country. The murder of Jean sans Feur had one benefit. Burgundy immediately signed an alliance with England against France.

The population of Dijon was mixed at the departure of the Company. Their presence had brought money into the economy, though certain individuals did their best to take money out. The owner of the 'Strangled Virgin' was saddest to see them go. As mercenaries went, this particular bunch was very well behaved. A lasting legacy was the improved menu the tavern could supply it's patrons, and the owner believed with a name change to something a little less rude, a higher class of clientele would soon improve his fortunes.

* * *

One week into the journey Lieutenant Edmond de Bloomfielde and his escort of Forster's men rejoined the Company. The news was good. King Harry, and especially his brother the Duke of Bedford, was more than eager for their aid. de Bloomfielde waved the contract at Captain, boasting about the generous terms of service. Only the Duke of York, as expected, did not hold the same enthusiasm.

Two weeks later the Free Company approached the city of Tours. Surrounding it were the encamped men of Jean de Pressey's 14,000 Burgundians and Henry's 12,000 English.

Tours itself appeared to be on its last legs. The walls had been battered in several spots, with at least two visible breaches. Pohlman and the new man Guillaume concurred that the city had maybe seven days left before it fell.

A herald from Henry intercepted the Company, and pointed them to a camp spot. It was to the south of the city, and covered the southern road. Interestingly enough, the Duke of York was on the opposite side of Tours, as far away as possible.

So on the morning of October 29, the Free Company set to building a rudimentary fort, their first action under their new employer, King Henry V of England. How things would turn out, no one would know...

[Barkdreg]

Barkdreg looked at the battered city. It's walls were blasted apart by the English bombards and were devoid of life. The people in the city must be starving realised Barkdreg. If they couldn't spare the energy to guard the walls they would surender soon.
Good, no need for an assault.
Barkdreg was glad the Company had chosen to stay in this war, not with the Burgundians but with their English allies. He had sworn to hunt down the Duke's killers and he wouldn't rest before he had found them. First he had to find Robespierre, probablY he was ordered to kill the Duke and Barkdreg wanted to know who ordered it.
Killing the assassins was not enough, he wanted everyone responsible.
Barkdreg spit in the town's direction and left for the camp the Company was building.

[driftwood]

October 29, 1419

Guillaume told his men to help work on the fort. They had long experience doing this work and didn't need much direction. His company included a number of wagons and strange-looking carriages. Normally the wagons were unloaded, the trunks of books removed from the carriages (Guillaume was always nervous that one lucky fire arrow would hit the library carriage, so he distributed the trunks among several), and then the wagons and carriages could be used as part of a makeshift barricade. Since the Company would be staying here awhile, Guillaume's men instead went to help the others in cutting down trees and making a more respectable fort.

Clerk had been keeping an eye on the new man, when he wasn't keeping an eye on the Countess or her sister (they sure were pretty!), or Captain. The Countess didn't seem to like Guillaume, although Captain had accepted him. During the hubbub of setting up camp, he decided to head down to Guillaume's section and see what he could find out.

Everything looked pretty normal, when Clerk heard a "SQUAWK!" come out of one of the carriages. He rubbed his ears and his eyes (just for good measure), but sure enough came another "SQUAWK!" followed by a whistling noise. Overcome with curiousity, he eased open the door to the carriage and poked his head in.

"Euh!" he gasped. It stank! There was a loud rustling noise, and he slowly realized the carriage had been stripped inside to hold birds in cages.

"They're pigeons," Guillaume said from behind him.

Clerk jumped. "I --- that is --- Captain --- I didn't mean --- " he mumbled as he tried to make a break for it at the same time. However, Guillaume was too quick for him and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"It's ok, lad. Now that you've seen them I might as well explain. They're pigeons, like I said, and they've each been trained to fly to a particular spot in the world. So when I want to talk to a friend in, say, Paris, I can just write a small note, tie it to the pigeon's leg, and let it go."

The boy looked at him in awe. Commanding the birds! Who had ever heard of such a thing! "Of course, they're very expensive to train, and once you've used one it doesn't fly back, so it would have to be an important message."

"S-So instead of tieing a note to an arrow and shooting it into Tours, you could use one of the pid-jens," he stumbled slightly over the new word, "and know that the right person would get the message?" he asked.

"Smart boy," smiled Guillaume with a nod.

[OOC: I don't really know when carrier pigeons came in to use. I hope it was before 1419, though.

Also, Guillaume has 40 pike/swordsmen, 20 crossbowmen, and 40 sappers/siege engineers, who I assume will be reassigned to appropriate units.]

driftwood

[Lord Durham]

OOC: Carrier pigeons were first used by the Mameluks during the Crusades, so I'd say you're pretty spot on.

Spend a day or two settling your characters. There's interesting things on the horizon.

-----------------------------------

October 29 - Tours - Afternoon


As the fort quickly took shape, Captain joined Sir Barkdreg as the knight went to tend his mount.

"Thinking about Orleans, Barkdreg?"

"Something like that. Sieges and sacks never rest easy with me."

"I'm not sure if it will come to that. It's Henry's choice."

"Aye. Captain, this incident in Montereau, the murder of the Duke... something troubles me about it."

"How so?"

"Robespierre. He had to be acting on higher authority." Barkdreg paused. "I have made it a quest to hunt the man down and deliver justice to him and his accomplices."

"A noble gesture, Sir Barkdreg, and one that I'm sure you will complete with honour, but, what if the French King Charles ordered it?"

The Templer Knight faced Captain. "That's what troubles me. King's are annointed by God..." Quietly, the huge man walked away.

[Syt]

October 29th - Tours - Afternoon

Franklin Maxwell couldn't believe his luck. His little shop in the battered town of Tours had to be closed. Too many French were threatening him, an English trader, with fates that included, but were not limited to, death. The town's guard, whenever he approached them, turned their backs and shrugged. He knew they were payed by some of the wealthier citizens, and that he was not among the priviledged who could afford such protection. At 30 years of age, and not being married, Maxwell found the time to leave time to have come. He packed up his belongings, sold his shop for a riduculously low sum, and loaded what he had onto a cart pulled by a horse that was far from being a thoroughbred.

The guards chuckled, their armor rustling, when he left town, and he tried hard not to blush under their comments. Oh, how he wished his offspring would once have it better than he had it. His cart was rather peculiar. He had room for many goods in the back, and he could turn it into a makeshift shop. Coloured as it was, it sure drew attention. Maxwell checked the sword by his side hoping that he would not draw the wrong sort of attention.

Not far out of town, he spotted activity, a group of men out building a camp, or maybe a fort. He moved closer on his rickety cart, careful, trying to make out more details. Soon he realized what he saw: Mercenaries! Now, that was a chance. With a bit of luck he could sell the remainder of his goods, and then...yes, then he might be able to return to England, the island that he had left twenty years ago with his father, who had thought that a shop in Tours would bring great fortune. Unnecessary to say that Franklin's father was wrong.

Franlin Maxwell steered his cart over the bumpy road and cart ruts towards the mercenaries. When he was sure they could see him, but was far enough away to not be considered dangerous, he shouted, "Lo! Honourable men! Warriors of great power! Gods of the battle field! I carry many a good that you might desire, and am gladly selling them to generous souls such as yours! Please allow me to open my humble shop inside your..." He cleared his now sore throat. "...your mighty, impenetrable fortress!" He kept standing on the seat of his cart and waited for the reply.

[OOC: This is merely a guest post, I will not partake permanently, but instead make appearances here and there. Feel free to play Franklin as an NPC, but let him suffer no serious harm, don't kill him, or put him into a situation he cannot get out of. Try to leave him in character - a good humoured, business minded soul.]

[MrT]

A man of medium height and fractionally overweight build wandered over in response to the merchant's hail. His first customer.

"Oh goody," thought Franklin.

"You wouldn't, by any chance, have any long-strided Wlak would you monsieur?"

Needless to say, this was not a typical request for Mr. Maxwell.

"Wlak, sir?"

"I didn't think so. Oh well. I had to ask."

The frenchamn wandered away, desolate. He seemed to be favouring one side.

It was, thought Maxwell, going to be one of those days...

[Rath Jones]

"alright then boys, this is how were going to do it." Lochlan paused, his eyes going to each of the three men in front of him. "we have 40 scouts, were going to be breaking up into 5 man groups for the patrol patterns. I'll be leading the the afternoon patrols, benefit of rank." He pointed at the man farthest on the left. "Billy, your boys will be with the evening patrols." He moved down the short line. "Hans, you've got the midnight run. And Michelle, you get the really early morning bit."

There was a groan at the last comment, but Lochlan held up a hand. "Relax, we'll be switching it off by day. Remember I still do things fair, im not Officer after all." He smirked then turned, grabbing his bow from the tree he had rested it against. "Scherers boys get the day patrols, at least this week. Im heading out now, when im not in, report to either Scherer or Hans. Move out."

Lochlan jogged to where his group was waiting. "Ok boys, were joining up with a detachment from Edwards regiment, we get to be the eye's and ears." There was a general moaning and groaning at this. "Shut up, none of that. Get your gear, im gonna go let command know were moving out."

As he headed toward the central area of the fort where the Captain stayed, and where the company headquarters was he passed various friends and comrades, some in the process of constucting the fort, some merely pretending. He tossed a wave to Alberic, who was once again trying to motivate some of his workers by singing, they spent more time laughing. Alberic waved back, and made a face at Lochlan, who grinned back. He said hello to Forster as the cavalryman passed him looking thoughtful. He was rewarded with a nod, and Lochlan continued on. He finally reached the tent where the headquarters was until the fort was finished. Inside was Captain, Bloomfield, and Sean.

He gave a lazy salute on entering, and turned to face the three. "Afternoon patrol is heading out, Billy is taking evening, Hans, Midnight, and Michelle, early morning."

Bloomfield noted it down on a paper, and set it on the map. Captain just grunted, not even looking up from the map. Sean nodded, the turned to Bloomfield. "So if the French were to....."

Lochlan didn't hear the rest of it as he slipped out of the tent. As he was leaving he saw some strange fellow shouting at the guards saying something about wares and goods. But Lochlan didn't have time to listen. He quickly reached the patrol where it had formed up, He spoke quickly with Duncan, leader of the revenants.

"Alright, we'll fan out, you guys stick to the patrol route. You know the drill."

"Aye." Duncan said. "Alright Revanents, lets move out." With that Lochlans scouts headed out as well. Eyes open, weapons close.

[Sharur]

"Wlak, sir?"

"I didn't think so. Oh well. I had to ask."

Scherer shook his head, grinning, and walked up to the merchant. "Sir! What type of hunting and scouting supplies do you stock? Also, do you by chance carry any digging and building supplies?"

The merchant looked deeply relieved to be able haggle over items that, as far as he knew, existed.

[Baron Zenholt]

Don Diego, being a light sleeper, was awakened by the flap of his tent being opened. Who in the world wanted to see him at this hour? He grew alarmed as a smallish figure crept toward him. He flew into action as the figure lunged at him clumsily with what looked like a knife.

"Guards, armed intruder in the camp!" he yelled. Don Diego grappeled with his unknown assailent. Overpowering the intruder easily and confiscated the knife.

He dragged his assailent out into the moonlight as the sentries rushed to his tent. He was shocked to find out the person who had tried to kill him was a girl. She looked to be in her mid-teens. She was wearing boy's clothes, but on close inspection it was obvious she wasn't a boy. For one, her hair was tucked into the back of her shirt rather than cut short.

Bloomefielde, Captain, Sean, and some of the other officers were arriving at the scene upon news of an armed intruder.

"Who are you? Why did you attack me?"

She stood up straight and tried somewhat unsuccessfully to look important. "I am the Lady Marcieux and I came to avenge my brother's murder at the hands of uncouth mercenaries."

Everyone started to laugh. Sean voiced what everyone seemed to be thinking, "I wa' 'spectin' Blu Morte when I her' the news, No' some lass afta vengence." "Lady Marcieux" looked embarrassed at the laughter and utterly suprised Don Diego by burying her head in his chest and crying.

Bloomfielde quickly filled in Father Wilhelm, who had just arrived upon being sent for once it was discovered that the intruder was mostly harmless. "Why don't you tell us your story, child?"

She looked a little upset at being called a child. Don Diego akwardly patted her on the shoulder and gave her a slight push towards the priest. "Do not worry, he calls everyone 'child,' even those that are older than him."

"My name is Charlotte Marcieux. I was raised by my father after my mother died bearing me. My father died in a war about five years ago. They never bothered to tell me where. My brother, Louis, left our estates to try and improve our fortunes at the Duke's court. I was left technically in charge of our lands, but our steward ran them. Last summer I received word that my brother had been brutally murdered by a band of mercenaries named the Free Company during the surrender of the Keep of Orleans. The man who preformed the deed was a Castillian named Diego. The Duke gave our lands to one of his favorites and wanted me to marry the man. He was almost fourty and disgusting. I ran away rather than become a prize for such a man. I've been making my way this direction ever since then, relying on other's kindness to survive. I had some jewelry I was going to sell, but it was quickly taken from me. I was lucky that that was all they took. I disguised myself as a boy after that. I heard that the Free Company was camped nearby and decided to come avenge myself. I entered the camp during the day and found out Diego's tent and then came back tonight to take my vengence for my brother and the ruin of my life."

Don Diego quickly told the story of his father's death by her brother's treachery and his duel outside the Keep in Orleans.

She looked shocked at the news of her brother's treachery, but then a look of comprehension dawned upon her face. "My brother was desperate for recognition. Every once in a while he would send home money from an unknown source, telling me to make myself pretty for the wealthy and prestigious suitors he would send me. It never seemed to be enough though because the men he sent were always unimpressed with our holdings and my dowry."

Captain asked her, "Well, what should we do with you? We can't in good conscience leave you to wander the countryside alone."

"Please, don't send me back to Orleans. I couldn't bare to be married to that man. He is so wretched."

Father Wilhelm spoke up, "Perhaps we could send her to a convent."

"No, no. I don't want to be a nun. Please don't make me do that."

"What do you want then?"

All the sudden she pointed at Don Diego and said, "Him. He made me an orphan. I am his responsibility."

"Me? I know nothing of adolesent girls." He got a calculating look in his eyes. "How old are you? Thirteen?" He delibrately underestimted her age so that she would tell him her real age.

"What?" She almost screached. "Thirteen? I'm almost sixteen!"

"Pardon me, Señorita. See? I know nothing."

"Have you no duty? It's your fault. If you don't take care of me, no one will."

Don Diego took his duty very seriously. The girl appeared to be very distraught and very alone. "Very well. I will take care of you on the condition that you not try to wake me with a knife again."

A look of relief came over her face and she suprised Don Diego again by hugging him again. He looked embarassedly at Captain and Sean. "Do you think that the Countess and Christina would mind if she stayed with them? At least for now? She cannot sleep here with me."

Everyone laughed and the two men said that they thought it would be alright, at least for now. The three men and Charlotte headded towards the Company's fort where the Countess and Christina were lodged.

[Rictus]

With the Fort taking shape with every passing hour and much of the duty roster assigned till the following Sabbath day, Edward found himself with a few spare hours to kill.

HIs stroll around the camp rewarded him with the departure of Lochlan and a contingent of his own command, and the addition of another hanger-on. This time a merchant. Edwad, having nothing better to do, browsed over the wares.

Much of it was good quality - fine quality, actually, but little of it held any interest to the mercenary. He sifted aside a large grayish box - much to the merchants dismay.

"Careful!" came an english accent, startling Edward, "this is very expensive" he said, gesturing to the box.

"What is it?"

"This? I got this from some Persians, they called it a colm-puut-toor" he said smugly.

"A compuuttoor? What the hell does that do?"

"Apparantly, it can connect to the Enter-web. And before you ask good sir, the Persians seemed unable or unwilling to fully tell me."

"Oh, well, thats good." Edward sidled away and continued looking.

Eventually, he pulled out from between two round, silvery discs (which the merchant told him were CeeDee's) a true gem. It was a known as a katar, it was a thick, short blade that was over the knuckles. But what made this one so absolutely ingenius was that it also allowed a weapon to be held in the same hand - something whcih Edward had never seen before. The grip fitting snugly into his hand and the basket (replacing the traditional handle) slipped over his knuckles and finishing just above his wrist, allowing for perfect flexibility and movement. Edward could barly contain his excitment.

"How much?" The merchant examined it with a critical eye.

"Two gold. I got that from..." Edward dropped three times that much and hurried away.

----

As he made his way back, he tried it on both sides, but the basket hilt design only allowed it on his right hand, he was muttering to himself as he walked, not seeing Guillaume as he did so.

"Eight-five-two-one" the man said, freezing Seraphim in his tracks. Slowly, Edward swivled to face him.

"How do you know?" he whispered,

"So it is you. You've done well for yourself here - and got quite a good position for yourself. High up and close to some important figures."

Edward stalked close to him, slipping on the katar as he did so.

"If you breathe a word of this to anyone.." he backed away quickly when a pair of pikemen rounded the corner, laughing. Guillaume had not broken his look at Seraphim, who was just as steady himself.

"Why shouldn't I? They should know."

"It would put my position in jeopardy." Edward was marginally taller, older and probably a lot stronger, but he had no wish to use any martial means to silence teh man.

"Maybe thats what I want."

Another group, this time a mixed group of swordsmen and archers came past.

"This isn't finished." Edward scowled, and stalked away.

Guillaume smiled and went back to work.

_______

OOC: Were computers and CDs around in 1419? Didn't think so...

[Timothy]

It was cold, now that authum had definitly come. It was a cloudy afternoon, and windy too. The clouds threatened rain, but whether it would really rain, no one could tell. Johan had helped working on the fortress to stay warm, but being an engineer meant that Johan had to do more of the planning and supervising work. To keep warm, Johan kept moving around the place, sorting out those who thought constructing fortresses was unimportant and boring work.

With the work continuing well on it’s own, Johan had the time to attend to other matters. Looking for Faolan, Johan found Hans, one of the veteran scouting sergeants instead. Johan had to dig in his memory to find the man’s name.

“Your name is Hans, right.”

“And you’re Johan, the engineer with the giant crossbow. What brings you here?”

“I’m looking for Faolan.”

“Out in the field I’m afraid.”

“Then I’ll never find him.” “But maybe you can help me instead.” “I’m looking for someone who can train me and my men in skirmishing, and moving through woodlands.”

“That’s not easy to learn, men don’t become woodsmen overnight. What did you had in mind for you and you men, sergeant?”

“Moving formations though forest terrain Hans, and quick maneouvering with them.”

“Well, you can make a start there. A forest isn’t a place for a formation, any formation. If you want to move quickly with your men through a forest, you have to drop the pretence of being in a formation.”

“But how does one keep order then?”

“One doesn’t, at least, not in a traditional way. In a forest, your men will have to think for themselves a bit, guess what their sergeant wants. That’s why training takes so long. There are no rules, no regulations. Just the bond you have with your men.”

“Thank you, I thought I was at a dead end with my training, and you’ve proved that right.”

“You’re with the crossbows Johan?” Johan nodded. “You need to stand still to reload then, a serious disadvantage.”

“Well, it’s only fair I show you my new crossbow in response then.” Johan offered Hans the crossbow, who took it for examination. It had a size similar to a normal crossbow, perhaps, it was just a little smaller. It had an additional hold extending downwards in the middle, but it’s most obvious difference with an ordinary crossbow was the box-like device over the part where the bolt is housed when a crossbow is loaded. Closer examination revealed a sturdy iron grip at the back of the crossbow, connected to some kind of mechanism. “Well, it looks like a crossbow.” Hans scepticly said. “But what’s the deal about it?” Hans gave the crossbow back to Johan. Johan took the crossbow with his right hand by the middle hold pointing downwards, leaving the crossbow resting in his lower right arm, while clicking a part backwards with his left hand. A click and a slight movement in the trigger warned Hans that the crossbow could be fired, but, as Johan pointed out, there was no power to propel the bolt yet. Johan now pointed the crossbow away from him, took hold of the iron grip in the back, and pulled. A rattling noise sounded from the crossbow, amplified by the closed envirorment that the box on top of the crossbow was. “Differentials allow for this tightening to work using just my arm, but as a result, the crossbow isn’t as powerfull as a standard one.” Johan was finished, and fired a shot a few meters forward of him into the ground. “Chique” Was all what Hans said, looking at Johan as if he saw water burning. Johan realised he hadn’t convinced the veteran yet.

“I don’t have to hold the crossbow in an awkward position, firmly in place with my feet, while working like a madman to tighten it, and I can fire perhaps four shots per minute. It’s only drawback is that of limited range and penetrating power.”

“So that’s why you want to go on the offensive.” Hans said. “Glad you get my point. Now, if only I can make some more of these devils, fortunately, they are nowhere nearly as expensive as that giant thing I built last year.”

[Baron Zenholt]

Don Diego approached the women's quarters. Sean arrived there from another direction just before him.

"We nee' ta fin' out how ya' new wahd got inta the camp." Don Diego nodded. That had been bothering him too.

Sean called into the tent and and Christina opened the flap. "Goo' Mornin', dahlin'."

"Hello, Sean, Don Diego."

The two men entered the large tent. After the pleasantries were exchanged, the Countess told Don Diego, "Charlotte needs new clothing. These boys clothes won't do at all." Don Diego nodded and the Countess continued, "Also, Sean, if you see Captain before I do, tell him five is too many for this tent. We need a larger one or a new one next to this one."

The two men left with Charlotte, Sean promising to meet Christina for lunch.

As they walked away, Don Diego asked Charlotte, "How did you enter the camp last night? We have had problems with assassins before and we have measures in place to stop this from happening."

"I was stopped by a sentry last night, but he took a good look at me and let me through."

Sean was concerned at this and said, "Cin ya identify tha man for us? It's very impohtant."

"Yes, I think so."

Don Diego led them to the men from his squad that were on guard last night. Charlotte identified the third man they talked to.

Don Diego talked briefly to the man in Castillian and then pulled Sean aside. "He recognized that she was a woman and let her pass because he thought that someone had, uh, hired her for some nocturnal activities."

"We cin no' have this happenin' no more. I'll pass tha wohd that any man wishin' to engage in this kin' of indiscreshun will have ta leave the camp."

Sean left as Don Diego and Charlotte went to find the new merchant that had set up shop in the Company's fort.

****

OOC - I hope that I didn't mangle Sean's accent too bad. Barkdreg, how old is Melissa?

[Barkdreg]

Melissa's age? I'll have to search the thread for this.

EDIT: she's about 6, peasants in those time rarely knew their own age

I like Sytass' post, I can see some trouble between Maxwell and the Moors brewing

[Rath Jones]

Lochlan spun, his sword flickering in the early morning light. He flowed through patterns, and drills that he had learned and practiced for a long time. His movements were sure, and his wrist never quivered as he moved from stance to stance, cut to cut, parry to parr, and thrust to thrust. Sweat was running down his face as he moved through the drill faster and faster, his sword seeming to dance, light playing off the blade. Once this had beena ritual he used to free himself from anger, but that had been in another life. He was free of that now, anger no longer drove him. Now he was led by something else, something he dared not define. He finally finished the last of his drill patterns, and dropped to his haunches, exhausted. He picked up the waterskin he ahd brought with him, and took a gulp, he then proceeded to pour about half of the remaining water over his head, then he stood and walked back in the direction of the Fort's water source, he definately needed to clean up.

On his to the fort he passed one of the newer men, Bert, and nodded to him. He also passed some of Scherers scouts heading out on patrol.

"Where's your fearless leader?" He called out mockingly.

"Probably asleep, as usual." The other scouts headed away with a chuckle. Lochlan continued to head in the direction of fresh water, only to be...well...cornered was the only way he could think of it. The Countess had come around the corner, and had headed directly for him, while he had looked around for somewhere to hide. He wondered sometimes, if she knew how much teaching her and her sister made him uncomfortable. He also wondered if they knew how proud he was that they had mastered it so well.

"Good Morning Seargent." The Countess said, giving him a gracious smile.

"Morning M'lady. About today's practice."

"Yes?" There was volumes in that single word.

"I would prefer...if...rather, I would be more comfortable if CAptain knew about this."

"You think he doesn't, It's not like he pay's attention to where I go or anything."

"Now M'lady, I don't want anything ill said of Captain, he cares for you."

She softened her gaze, but her tone still didn't change. "Be that as it may, I doubt he's unaware of it."

"I suppose your right M'lady. About today then, Im not sure how much more you can actually learn from me."

"I thought you were supposed to be a master of your err craft." She said archly, but stumbled over labeling skill with a tool of killing as a craft.

Lochlan's eyes grew hard. "I am M'lady, and im not necessaruly proud of it, but the simple fact is that much of what im teaching you, you could easily learn on your own. Most of knife fighting is about speed and reflexes, and both you and your sister have those. At least in the mouth." That last sentence had been thought, not vocalized, but Lochlan suspected that the Countess knew what he had been thinking.

"Very well then, I shall see you later, Good Day Seargent."

Lochlan shrugged as she walked away. Men, were always dancing to tunes set by women in his opinion, and he was no different. As he reached his destination he saw Cockney coming out. The man was absolutely livid, and he was using insults that Lochlan himself had trouble saying.

"Cockney. Whats the matter?"

"You mean you aven't eard, some other bleedin merchant is trying to steal my market. Its awful!"

Lochlan just chuckled at him and walked past, leaving the moor behind him shouting about what was so funny, and finally stalking away in anger.

[Storey]

October 30th, Tours, Morning

Alberic and the merchant Franklin stood toe to toe haggling over the object in Alberic's hand. Neither man was willing to acknowledge the points that the other was making. Alberic threw up his hands and said.

"What in God's name are you trying to pull here? This sad excuse for an instrument hasn't been played for years. If you don't play a instrument is goes bad just like a bottle of wine you leave sitting in the sun."

Franklin stood his ground and replied.

"This isn't just any old instrument. It was once played in all the royal courts throughout the land. Do you see those marks there on the inside? Yes those little ones to the right just under the strings. The initials of the great Nicolaus Wolfgang Bach carved by himself for his favorite Rebac."

Alberic looked closer before scoffing back.

"Looks like chicken scratching to me. Now look, its seen it better days and if I didn't feel sorry for you having to leave your shop and all that crap I wouldn't be offering you even half as much as I am. One silver and four coppers are more than fair for this piece of wood that you have masquerading as a Rebac."

Franklin rolled his eyes up and raised his arms in the air while wailing.

"I've lost my life of twenty years by leaving Tours and one of the first men I run into is a thief such as yourself. I tell you this Rebac is made of the finest woods from southern Saxony. It was carved by none other than that great artist Hanse von Haimhausen. His initials, by the way, are carved on the other side. I've had offers several times as much as you are offering. I have children to feed kind sir and it is a steal at four silver and three coppers."

Alberic didn't see any signs of children and wasn't thrown off his stride.

"Who the hell hasn't carved on the damn thing, your mother? Now look I'm a reasonable man and I want to do what's right. How about two silver and two coppers? Now that's fair if I do say so myself."

The merchant Franklin's eyes took on a light of a seller who knows that there is a sell to be made when he replied.

"Dear sir, you're a man of taste and refinement which is hard to come by in these terrible times. Because of that and to reassure you I have here," As he rummages around a trunk in his wagon before victoriously producing a parchment, "A sworn testimony from the family that owned this Rebac that swears that it has been in their family for close to a century and that is it indeed what I claim it to be. An original Haimhausen!"

Alberic scratched his head as he glanced at the parchment. It would have helped if he could read but that wasn't what was bothering him. The momentum of the argument was swinging in the merchants favor and if he wasn't going to lose he was going to have to come up with something quickly. But what? Just then Don Diego came up with a young woman and greeted Alberic. In Alberic's eyes Don Diego was a God sent. He takes the pause while greeting Don Diego as a chance to regroup before crossing words with the merchant Franklin once again.

(OOC) edited to clarify who was with Don Diego By the way Alberic is 27 years 11 months and 23 days old. Sounds like he has a birthday coming up. Now don't everone run out and buy him a present.

[Baron Zenholt]

Don Diego saw Alberic haggling with the merchant. He normally wouldn't have interrupted, but Alberic was looking a little haggard, so he spoke up. "Greetings, Merchant. My young ward here, needs clothing more befitting a lady. Do you have anything that would be sufficient?"

The merchant, taken out of rhythm, looked at the Castillian and then the young woman in boy's clothing and said, "Err, yes, certainly sir. Can you wait until I'm done with this, err, gentleman?" He didn't seem quite sure what the propper term of address was for a mercenary.

"Certainly."

Alberic started in again, having regained at least a little of the momentum.

****

OOC - I slightly changed my last post to make it more clear who was going to the merchant's with Don Diego for casual readers. By the way, Charlotte's disguise as a boy wasn't that good. It only fooled very casual observers.

[shawng1]

Sean shook his head as he ground his steps into the ground following his meeting with the idiot guard who let Charlotte through. With such incredably tight security, Blu Morte would probably have as much trouble getting into the camp as he would go to the marketplace.

"Eric, ye make sure all the sergints know tha' any repeat of las' nigh's slackness by any member of the Comapny under me command will be met by loss of wages for 3 months. If anyone dies from failing to challenge an assassin at a post, they will no' an hour longer than the person they caused to die."

Eric's face blanched, "Yes sir."

"If a guard is unsure of someone's identity, if they do not know the passwords, if they so much as thin' somethin' out o' the ordinary, they are to summon the officer o' the watch. If he isna avaliable, I, PERSONALLY am to be foun'. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well. Ensure these orders are communicated to all sergeants TODAY!" The young Englishmen turned and ran out of his presence.

Then Sean thought to himself, "Blu Morte probably wanted to lull our guards back into normality, he got his wish. Thankfully this ought to wake up the guards prior to his arrival. But its time fer me to stop playing like I forgot about 'im, and make some inquiries meself."

With that, Sean returned to his tent and began to write a message in a strange backwards-looking Latin...

[Storey]

October 30 - Morning

Alberic nodded to Don Diego and wondered who the young attractive woman was with him. Once again composed he turned to the merchant and said.

"Alright, I'll probably regret this but seeing the hard spot your in and being a softy at heart I'll give you three silvers and that's it."

The merchant paused and like a connoisseur of men's souls stared at Alberic's face looking for any sign of weakness before saying.

"Is that your final offer?"

"Yes that's my final offer."

Franklin spits on his hand and offers it to Alberic to shake as he says.

"SOLD!"

Alberic is having his head rattled by the vigor of Franklin's handshake wondering all the time who won this round.