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I only knew because of Age of Empires II: The Conquerors and hey, he's not really a major historical figure after all.

Pretty certain El Cid is Charlton Heston, at least that's what I've always believed.
 
By the way; is there anyone reading this that's somewhat good with the Castillian tongue? I'm mostly wondering about naming customs and especially double-names when it comes to the nobility. In Sweden it have been quite common that kings wear to names such as Gustavus Adolphus, here called Gustav II Adolf. What I'm wondering is basically how his name would have been written if he had been king in Spain: Gustav II Adolf or Gustav Adolf II? Am I making the least bit of sense here?

Edit containing a slight slight spoiler: Or well, to clarify things. Since Fernando the Great was the first of his name, would a successor named Fernando Sancho be Fernando II Sancho or Fernando Sancho I?
 
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Fernando II Sancho ;)

Thanks mate!

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Hoping to get an update up tonight - if not it will have to wait a few days as my girlfriend is coming down for a visit, and thus I'll be busy doing boyfriendy things the next couple of days.
 
Thanks mate!

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Hoping to get an update up tonight - if not it will have to wait a few days as my girlfriend is coming down for a visit, and thus I'll be busy doing boyfriendy things the next couple of days.

Update first, girlfriend second! After I am satisfied then you can go and perform your duties as boyfriend. *wink wink*
 
Update first, girlfriend second! After I am satisfied then you can go and perform your duties as boyfriend. *wink wink*

Watch what you say mate, or you might just end up being round-kicked by a hundred and thirty pounds of Swedish forestergirl! Not a pleasant experience, I can attest.

Well, I've written what I would guess is half of the update as of now, but it turned out to be a bit longer than expected - a normal-sized chapter - and I have some things that needs to be done before eveningfall. Hopefully I'll have time to finish the update tonight (it seems kind of likely since this is a rather straight-forward chapter and doesn't need so much polishing to hang together with what will come and what has been).

And on another note: I watched the Heston flick about El Cid last night - and though it was not a great movie it might be well worth a watch if you guys are history buffs (CKII AAR-Forum, duh) and don't mind the stuffy acting of the older history dramas. At least it's a decent way to waste three hours of a rainy day when you've just seen your dynasty being multiassassinated by devious sisters with heirs in far off lands and want to spend a few hours away from the game to grieve your fallen heroes.

And yes Tapscott, my personal way of torturing you is to update this thread three to four times a day without posting any update. Cheers!
 
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Chapter Five - Bloodprice

Chapter Five
Bloodprice

25 October, 1066
Castillo de Osorio, León


Dawn was breaking, and the sun sent pale rays of light over the top of the horizon. Arias was cold - cold and wet - but the chill was of little significance. Soon the fire of battle would warm him, and soon he would bleed his enemies. The king's dog had not done as Arias had hoped and come chasing after him. A disappointment that, but not a major one since Osorio had split his forces and sent most of his men to Zamora. Now the dog was holed up in his old burnt out den with little more than a hundred men, from what Arias scouts had reported. And soon I'm gonna end his miserable life so I can piss on his and his accursed family's graves. Arias had with him some four hundred men, minus two or three dozen who were either out scouting after their enemies main force, making sure that they didn't turn around, or out raiding the countryside. Given that the land had become wilder and wilder the further west they'd journeyed the pillaging would probably not amount to much, Arias and the men all knew that, but whatever little damage they did was better than none – Arias wanted Alfonso to feel his fate was rising up to greet him even before García finally got his ass moving east.

The raiding had not all been for his personal gratification of course, no, in the end it had all been leading up to this moment. Initially Arias had hoped Alfonso himself would lead the sally against him, but he should have known better than that. The boy-king is no warrior, my Lady was right there. Of course he would hide behind his walls. Osorio was of course almost as satisfying, and severing the king's right hand might actually do as much damage as defeating Alfonso himself in the field. The most important thing was to show the world that Alfonso was no more than a upstart weakling, unworthy of his inheritance.

The sky started to pale into a greyish blue as Arias led his force up the slopes to the ruined keep. Most men preferred to attack his enemy in the black of night, but Arias had always found it much better to attack in the morning when the watchmen were drowsy and most of the others were eating or shitting. After all, most seasoned men eventually took to sleeping in mail during campaigns, that was part of what made some of them become seasoned, but attack even a veteran with his breeches down and he wouldn't amount to much before you slid your sword into his guts.

The warriors approached quietly, as quiet as the song of chainmail and boiled leather would allow, and luckily the rolling landscape made it easy to approach unseen and with a little luck none would hear them before it was to late. In the end it won't matter though. The keep was placed wrong, I told Enrique as much but would he listen? A sad little git he was, that one. Arias spat. He had never really cared much for his elder brother when the man lived, but fire burn him if he would let Osorio get away with what he had done to Enrique anyhow.

As they approached the walls Arias could hear a group of men singing in the courtyard, their voices sounded thick with wine. That was surprising. Flaín had always been known as a hellishly hard man to serve under, but Arias presumed that even dogs might grow old and careless. Lucky for you, you won't have to bear the burden of your years much longer. When he was close enough to hug the stones of the wall he motioned to his men to circle the keep in both directions. The gate had been torn down years ago, so there was little need to scale the walls themselves. As he led a trail of a hundred and fifty men around the grey, moss covered stones he felt an itch at the back of his neck. Something wasn't right here. No men were this oblivious to what happened beneath their walls. Could they'd mutinied? No, that ugly banner of his still flies. Arias put one foot on the path leading in through the broken gateway.

“NOW!” The cry came from above, and an instant later a stone the size of Arias chest was thrown down and hit the man closest to him. His head broke open with a wet cracking sound. “Fucking hell and his arse!” Arias shout was barely heard above the sudden clangour of steel bashing against wood as men on the walls pounded their swords on their shields. More stones fell around him, dozens of them, though few hit their marks and even fewer did any real damage. An arrow glanced off of Arias chainmail coat and fell hapless on the ground. “To me! TO ME!” The two dozen or so men closest to him heard his voice this time and gathered around him, shields above their heads, and soon enough most of the other men had sense enough to join them as they backed away from the wall.

When they were some twenty feet from the gateway Arias glanced passed his shield. Twenty bodies lay in the grass under the walls, a few of them still moving, but none seemed able to rise. A boy he had recruited just three days past was screaming in pain, hands cupped around a leg twisted in an unnatural angle. The screams stopped suddenly as a man in mail covered with yellow cloth threw a head-sized rock on the boy's chest. Flain. It had been a cunning stunt, this, and below his breath Arias cursed himself for underestimating his enemy. Enrique did the same bloody mistake and he ended up burnt for it. He shook his head defiantly. It wouldn't matter in the end. Arias still had at least three times the men Flaín had, and by now Fruela, the man who led the contingent around the other side of the keep, would be sure to have realized what was happening and would start scaling the wall to take the enemy from behind. Arias smiled, a sinister masque distorting his face and lowered his shield. He would only need to distract them for a short while.


RuinsofOsorio2.jpg

The ruins of Castillo de Osorio. Recent archaeological finds have shown that the keep was rebuilt and expanded during the 13th century, though it is unknown what noble family held it after the restoration

“Osorio! Come out you filthy flea-ridden bitch! Come out here and face me!” Arias voice washed over the walls, and soon enough Flaín reared his ugly snout up above the gate.

“Flea-ridden bitch, am I now?” Flaín lifted his hand. Arias flinched and began to raise his shield, expecting a shower of arrows, but then he saw the wineskin in the man's hand. Flaín drank, but only a short spurt of wine before he wiped his mouth. “Speak your piece, traitor. But know that you will have naught but blood and death from us!”

Arias looked at the gateway. Between the stone walls, and stretching back unto the courtyard stood a group of thirty men, shoulder to shoulder and five men in breadth. It would be hell to break through, but then again they wouldn't need to fight for long before Fruela launched his attack.

“My words are not for you, dog. All men here already know you're too craven to face me blade to blade. What I will say is for your men!” Arias took a step forward. A daring thing to do, leaving the protection of his men's shields behind, but then again Arias had never been much for caution. A man with a weak heart was not a man at all. “Hear me! Lay down your weapons and bring me the head of Flaín de Osorio, and I will let you join my ranks and together we will bring down the usurper on the throne!” His words were met with complete and utter silence – Arias had expected as much. This was after all the king's own men, not some measly peasant rabble.

Suddenly the thunder of steel against steel broke out from far away to the front. Fruela has scaled the wall, Arias mused. He was impressed with the discipline of the men guarding the gateway. Not a single one turned to fight the enemy in their rear, knowing that it would only lead to them being crushed by Arias force. It was a pity none of them would join him. A horse's scream rose above the clashing. Probably one of the pack-horses smelling blood. Arias drew his sword.

“CHARGE!” His men bared steel and ran shields first against the wall of men blocking their path. The initial crash broke a large splinter of wood from Arias shield, and in the cramped gateway it was hard to find room to swing his sword. The man in front of him fought with a long dagger instead, bashing his shield against Arias's once he found his footing again. Arias managed to pin down the man's shield with his own and raised his blade high to strike at his enemy's face. Blood gushed out as the foeman's jaw was broken in two, the sword biting deep into his throat.

Not having room enough too loosen his blade Arias leaved it trapped in the skull of his slain opponent, and drew his own dagger instead whilst pushed forward. But before he could take advantage of the gap in the enemy shieldwall the gap had been filled. Instead he found himself being pushed back a step as the fresh warrior in front of him bashed his shield forward again and again. Burning hells, what is taking Fruela so bloody long? The man beside him fell with a dagger stuck in his eye, but his place was soon filled and Arias found himself steadied from behind.

Lowering his shield Arias feigned an opening, and the man who had shoved him back lashed out with his dagger. Arias, quick as a viper, struck his round-shield upward, forcing the strike high and before the man could recover his balance Arias dagger stabbed in between the thin bones of the warriors arm. His enemy cried out in pain and fell to one knee, allowing Arias to stab him again, this time in the neck. It was as the kneeling man's lifeblood spurted out on Arias's face that he heard the screams from the men to his rear. At first he dismissed it as the result of a well-placed stone or arrow from above the walls. That was before he heard hooves beating against the ground.

In panic Arias reeled around and saw the large line of men pushing forward be dissected by a group of horse. There must be a hundred of them... no, no... two hundred. Fuck, fuck, fuck. For a brief moment he forgot where he was, but a burning pain as a dagger streaked across his neck soon reminded him. Turning back to his enemy at hand he lunged himself against the foe, forcing him to the ground. Arias then let go of his shield and kicked at his enemy as he pushed himself back through the ranks. Other men had seen the horses now, even those in the front line and as panic spread among the warriors their enemies pushed forward, forcing them out into the open.

As Arias left the safety of the gateway behind he realized the full extent of their situation. Around the increasingly dense group of soldiers, desperately trying to form some sort of battle-line, hundreds of light horsemen swirled in a dance of singing spears. It was a dance of death and blood, death and blood and death and death and death. In less than half a minute Arias saw more than thirty men fall with short throwing-spears in their chests and from behind the enemy infantry in the keep was steadily grinding down the few stragglers who remained between them and the open air.

Arias threw himself towards his men, loosing himself between their shoulders and shouting to them – to anyone – to hold their ground and raise their shields. Just as their shieldwall was beginning to form the infantry broke through the gate and crashed into their still shaken force. The air was pushed out from Arias's lungs as an elbow hit him square in the stomach, and he fell to the ground as the men broke and ran around him. The soldier soon fell as the cavalry swept in from the flanks, striking out with spears and longswords at the running men's backs. A horse trodded slowly up to Arias, and staring down upon him was a young nobleman clad in heavy chainmail. The man threw something to the ground beside Arias. Fruela. An insane laughter escaped Arias's lips.

Then the nobleman's spearpoint licked Arias's face.
 
So there you have it! A bit of a personal milestone this chapter, actually, as with this episode CoB has grown longer than Rules (including parts written but never published) which kind of makes me feel back in the game for real after my hiatus. On another note I must also add that unlike Rules, where I felt continually stressed to get forward with the story (due to poor character planning, I've realized since then, since I had a great story planned - it was only a few years ahead in time) this story floats on quite nicely and having finished the life of Alfonso about a week ago I actually have most of the plot and the important characters sketched out in a decent way. Before I continue playing I want to check out if my save will be compatible with SoI though, as I'm hoping this might breathe a bit of life into the Moorish states.
 
Good update. Flain is more cunning than I thought. Plus, HOW DARE YOU TORTURE ME BY WITHOULDING UPDATES?! Oh, and if you could keep the roundhousing kicking girlfriend at bay, that would be just lovely.
 
Good update. Flain is more cunning than I thought. Plus, HOW DARE YOU TORTURE ME BY WITHOULDING UPDATES?! Oh, and if you could keep the roundhousing kicking girlfriend at bay, that would be just lovely.

Yeah, he is actually rather good at tactic sides of things - not that good at strategy and directly terrible with people though, except the king (something we'll get to later on). Oh come, a man must have some amusement now, after all? And I'll do my best to keep her out of your backyard. Shouldn't be that hard considering you're on the other side of the world.

great stuff, really compelling set of events ... and now that Arias is out the way?

Thanks! This was actually the first extended action scene I've written in a long while that I'm thoroughly pleased with (Action-scenes have always been difficult for me, with the pacing and the ease of repeating one-self. You can really only kill a man that many ways with a sword before it starts getting old, I've found).

On the future, well, war is still coming - García is in to deep to back down without losing face in front of his vassals - but he will move much more cautiously now when his allies in León is either imprisoned, dead or scattered to the wind. We will eventually get to visit García in the west, but that will have to wait a few weeks in-story. Next chapter will mostly focus on Urraca (her first POW-chapter), and if the Urraca-part don't get overly long we'll get to visit either Rodrigo de Vivar or return to Alfonso who has made his way to Zamora (most likely it'll Alfonso and then Rodrigo will get the chapter next time again).

Edit: Oh and next time we meet Alfonso we'll get to hear a song about him too! (Not really the type of song I've posted in The mightiest of the north though)
 
Excellent stuff, Flain has shown a very different side to him than I pictured him at first. I thought he was more the silent diligent and loyal warrior who followed orders without question. Now it seems he is far deeper, a killer
 
A very interesting story this; still reading but thought I should comment. Keep it up. :)
 
Excellent stuff, Flain has shown a very different side to him than I pictured him at first. I thought he was more the silent diligent and loyal warrior who followed orders without question. Now it seems he is far deeper, a killer

Actually, your interpretation is quite correct (though one might argue that Arias was sort of a special case for Flaín, more on that later) but add to that a near mind-boggling ruthlessness in carrying out his orders. Try and imagine him as the sort of man who would, if Alfonso asked it of him, travel to the end of the world to kill a suckling babe, though he might not enjoy it.


A very interesting story this; still reading but thought I should comment. Keep it up. :)

Thanks mate! Glad you're enjoying it so far and hoping you'll stick with it in the future


What?! 24 hours and no update?! Im utterly shocked you would decide to torture me like this ;_;

I know, I'm just a horrible horrible person who's been spending the last few days out in the sunshine, eating ice-cream and other summery activities. But now you have me back, so find solace in that.

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I'll try to get some writing done tonight (though I'm considering pouring some work into The mightiest of the north, since I've given no love what so ever to that one of late) - but no promises as I've just bought SoI and is currently being stomped by those pesky Normans in Italy whilst trying to create a Sultanate on Sicily. I am happy to report however, that my CoB-game seems fine with SoI with only the new provinces being without history - something I guess should be rather easy to mod.
 
Chapter Six - On Gatekeepers

Chapter Six
On Gatekeepers

2 November, 1066
The town of Salamanca, León


Inés was prattling on about the latest gossip around town, as usual. Apparently some guardsman had got the captain's daughter with child and was to be whipped for it. Inés was always talking, every single minute of every day she spent in Urraca's chamber was filled with the silly gossip of this forgotten bordertown. Urraca had been considering strangling the woman for quite some time now, but then again, if she did the guards were sure to find someone worse. Why in God's name does mother put up with this gibbering fool? Urraca sighed where she sat in the high window. She would have welcomed the conversation, truly, if only Inés would talk about something the least bit interesting, but whenever Urraca asked about the war, about Alfonso, about García or Arias or even her mother, the handmaiden simply continued on as if she'd not heard her. The first few days Urraca had tried to order Inés to speak, and when that didn't work she had pleaded, she had wept, screamed and even threatened – all to no avail. In the end Urraca had settled for not speaking at all, hoping for the woman to grow sick of listening to her own voice, though as of yet Inés hadn't relented a single moment.

Urraca's days were spent sitting in the window, or listening at her door whenever she heard the guards speaking whilst Inés was out – that was how she learned of Arias's fate. She had wept then, thinking of his dark curls matted with blood, his sparkling brown eyes dead and dull. Urraca couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd heard of the battle, but it was only yesterday she had managed to leave her bed again. Not that she had been able to sleep much, no, the dreams kept her even from that solace. Last night it had been María. They had been out riding among the hills, like they've done when they were young, pretending that they were on a great adventure and looking for forgotten treasure. At first it had been a pleasant dream, such even that Urraca would have wished to stay there forever. That was before she saw María staring at her from empty eye sockets, cracked and burnt lips moving but no words coming from them. Urraca had woken clutching her covers, soaked with sweat and tears. Other nights it was Arias. Before the battle she dreamt of him climbing the tower to rescue her and sweep her away – those dreams had left her loins aching for his body – but the last few nights she had dreamed only of his severed head spiked upon a ruined wall. Ravens had flocked around his face, screeching and bickering as they tore choice pieces from his cheeks.

No, sleep had lost all sense of comfort and Urraca found little more when she was awake. The view from the window was better than the dreams though and sometimes, brief as those moments were, she could near forget where she was as she looked upon the town spreading out beneath her. It should be Zamora though. It should be my city, not this little backwater. The thought of her husband prancing about in her halls, imagining himself a true little lord, made her clench her teeth, but the thought of Zamora was still a comfort as it was bittersweet. No, not Zamora. Burgos... it should be Burgos, with María still alive and happy, prattling on about her wedding... I was happy then. She traced the white scar that stretched across the palm of her right hand. I will avenge you. I will avenge you all, even if I have to tear that bastard's heart out myself.

“...and think of poor Ermengarda, not even fourteen and to be birthing a bastard. No, the good and proper thing would be to have them wed and be done with it, no matter Muño's low birth. After all, the captain is hardly more than a peasant himself. I told him as much yesterday but...” Urraca sighed and slid down from the window. It was time for her evening meal soon and after that Inés would finally leave her alone for the night. “Where are they? They said he would be here to sup with you.”

Urraca looked up, not a little confused. Who was to sup with her? She hadn't seen another soul than Inés for days, not counting the nameless guards always posted outside her door. Alfonso? No, the guards had said he was in Zamora.

“Inés...” Urraca hesitated, her voice was hoarse from lack of use and she thought it sounded like the voice of a much elder woman. She cleared her throat. “Who is coming to dine with me?”

The handmaiden gave her a long searching look. “Don't you remember, my lady? I told you earlier this morning... didn't I?” Inés scratched her greying hair. “No matter. It's that priest-fellow of yours, what's his name? Velasco?”

“Velasquez.” The mere thought of the false priest lit the burning embers within Urraca. If not for him and his oathbreaking she would still be free, Arias alive and Alfonso soon dead. What in all hell does he want? Coming to see his handiwork? “I don't want to see him. Tell him I'm indisposed...” There was little point in maintaining dignity any longer, Urraca realized. The truth was better, and aye, the truth might even sting a little. “No, tell him that I do not wish to see ungodly men. Tell him that it may not be for me judge him, but that I won't guarantee his safety if he would come here.”

Inés looked at her, eyes wide in shock. The handmaiden had been with Sancha for quite a few years, but mother and daughter had drifted apart even before Fernando died. Another love Alfonso stole from me. Thus Inés had never truly known her lady's eldest child, which could explain her surprise at Urraca's words. Surely she would have heard rumours, such had flourished around Urraca for years, how she dressed and acted a man, how she wielded sword and rode in front of her own guardsmen in raids against the moors. None of that was true of course, or well, not entirely true at least. Urraca knew how to wield a sword – Enrique, and later Arias had seen to that after she asked it of them – and some might claim that she acted more the lord than the lady, but not much further beyond what was known amongst the Hispanic nobility and in the end Urraca was a lady to the bone, except when in private. Except when imprisoned like a soulless animal. Her father had made it so.

“Surely you wouldn't want me to say such a thing to a... to a priest? A bishop at that?” Bishop? So that was his price then. Urraca wanted to scream. Had Velasquez only come to her instead of Alfonso she could have given him so much more.

“A false priest, Inés, and no good and proper lady would let herself be found in his presence.” Urraca had to force the words, her hands itching to go for the fool woman's neck. “Who knows what such a man could do alone with a woman?” Inés stared incredulously at at her. Just do what I say and make him go away. Then the handmaiden shook her head.

“No, my lady. I can't say such a thing to him. His grace has honoured this man highly, and besides, it's at your lord brother's request he comes. He carries the seal of the king and rides with an honourguard of the king's own.”


EnekoVelasquez.jpg

The martyr Eneko Velasquez. Velasquez was captured, tortured and maimed by Moorish raiders, shortly after which he disappeared - leading to theories of him being uplifted into heaven

Urraca protested again, and again and again, but no manner of objecting would change Inés's mind. Thus, a mere hour later, Urraca found herself seated in her solar across from the man that had led her by the nose into her cage. Velasquez looked dignified in the bishop's robes, but apparently Inés had blabbed her mouth of Urraca's, or maybe Alfonso had told his guards to see the man safe from her. Her little brother had shown in action and words that he acknowledged her as a worthy foe, Urraca would have to remember that. Or have I merely grown reckless? Maybe Arias rubbed of on me after all these years.

They ate in silence, and not a pleasant silence it was. Urraca could feel tension stemming from the man, and whenever she gripped her knife she could feel her own knuckles whiten. Velasquez saw it too at one occasion and nearly choked on his meat. The priest avoided looking at her after that, studying his plate intensely whilst forcing down red meat and bread. Urraca responded by staring at him, never letting her gaze fall of his face, and at times more numerous than she could count she found herself wondering she could reach him with her tableknife before the guards got between them. After a while she grow sick of staring though – sick of the silence, sick of this man and his presence. Better be done with whatever he wants and be rid of him. Urraca put her blade down upon the table.

“Why have you come here, Eneko?” The words were short, filled with poorly held back anger. The priest continued to stare at his plate, filling his mouth with a handful of bread and chewing thoroughly. It was a while before he managed to swallow and answer her.

“His grace has sent me here with an offer,” he paused and looked up at her, just to return his gaze to the table an instant later. Is he ashamed? He should be. And I will not forgive him, nonetheless. Forgiveness is for the Father, not for me. But I could send him to his judgement... “A most gracious offer at that. Far more lenient than I...” The priest words cut Urraca's vision of blood pouring down his new robes short.

“Is not a priest supposed to be forgiving, father?” Urraca cut him off, forcing his eyes to meet hers. Velasquez suddenly looked stern.

“Yes, that might be, but for forgiveness there must first be repentance.” He met her gaze evenly now. “And you, vile creature that you are, have not shown a moments regret since I learned of your foul plan. Surely, the lowest of beasts in the eyes of God almighty are the kinslayers and betrayers, and you, a woman at that, are supposed to be dutiful. Such is the purpose of your sex, and you rebel not only against your brother and your king but against nature itself.” Velasquez voice grew in strength towards the end, reaching a powerful crescendo and Urraca found herself remembering why she was drawn to him. A truly pious man, she remembered thinking of him, pious and honourable. She had thought that if any would support her against Alfonso it would be the righteous and faithful. His lecture only fed Urraca's anger and sense of disgust by the man.

“You speak of me as if I'm some burning demon, aye, and I may have done many ill deeds Eneko, I confess to that. Oh, bloody hell, I have confessed those sins and been forgiven, by your hand. So what of my dear brothers sins? Murdering fifty good men, women and children in their sleep, and he but a-”.

“SILENCE!” Velasquez slammed his fist on the table, making Urraca jump in her chair. She had not expected that, not from him. “I have spoken at great length with the kings of your... your tall tales of fires and blood, and he denies every single word of it.” That made her want to throw her plate at him. Of course he bloody denies it? What did you expect, that he would admit to being a murderer? “He also told be of those you claimed murdered, and of their deeds, and I say their deaths were a justice.”

Something snapped inside of Urraca then and white fury engulfed her. She grabbed the knife on the table and jumped towards Eneko Velasquez, slashing at him. The blade cut a deep gash across his cheek and made him fall of his chair, but when she stabbed at the priest's chest a strong leather-coated hand grabbed her around her waist and lifted her off. She spat and cursed at them, slashing wildly at the empty air with her small tableknife.

“YOU BASTARD! KILLING A BRIDE AND GROOM ON THEIR WEDDINGNIGHT IS JUSTICE, IS IT?” Another strong hand grabbed Urraca's arm and wrestled the knife from her. Velasquez stared at his hands, now red with the blood from his face and then turned his eyes, still wide in shock, on her. Urraca had stopped struggling by then, hanging limply in the grip of the guards. The rage was still boiling inside of her, but her body had lost the strength to fight. Later, Urraca couldn't say how much later, Velasquez spoke.

“I came here to offer you to retreat and live out the remainder of your life in a convent...” he lifted his bloodstained hands. “...I would say this is answer enough. May God have mercy on your soul Urraca Fernandez.”

Urraca snickered and laughed.

You should ask me to have mercy upon you. I'm going to kill you... I'm going to kill every single one of you...
 
So a treat to you all on this fine, if rainy, Friday night. As you might have noted the chapter grew a bit long to include either Alfonso or Rodrigo. Next chapter will turn us to Zamora and Alfonso, and will include parts of the promised song (called The Lion and the Golden Lord), and the chapter after that will be about Rodrigo (I've realized that squeezing two characters into one update will only get harder and harder). Hoping to do another chapter before the weekend is out anyway.

And oh yeah, about the chapter. Bloody hard thing to write. The knot that is everyone's interlinked backgrounds is becoming quite hard to manage with the whole "how much do I tell, how much do I give clues too and so on" but I'm guessing some of you are beginning to get something of an idea of what the knot is made of. The actual revelation will come eventually, and I'm hoping to keep some mystery left until then. How I'm doing with it so far?
 
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