The radiant summer sun shone down upon the verdant sylvan landscape; these fair meadows and groves had an ethereal quality that was, of course, a vestige of the faewild of old. The sight of its remnant had been among the most enchanting things you had ever seen.And yet, you couldn't help escape the burden that was so heavily laden upon your head; the crown may be kept safely in the vaults under the Albrechtsburg, but its weight never quite left your head. It was among the elder days of the 13th century, the year 1275 to be exact. And the kingdom of Greifswald was at peace. Still, as far as realms were concerned, yours was still young, for it had been but thirteen years since the formal proclamation of the kingdom, though in truth, it has existed as a polity since 1241, though only as a dukedom. 34 years of an Adlershorst upon the throne, though the lineage stretched back further; by the standards of the continent, the royal bloodline was virtually new money.Now, in the waning years of the 13th century, the king and court are engaged upon a tour of the northern fiefs, solidifying alliances and ensuring the loyalty of vassals. Yet things are not as they should be; monks travel and do not greet their king, and nobles leave their estates and disappear, only for them to resurface in strange and secretive gatherings. It wasn't rebellion, or at least, it hadn't been able to coalesce into one, but your suspicions were brewing.War you knew; compared to the soldierly simplicity of that life, dealing with the two-faced members of the aristocracy was something you had grown into, but you still perceived the practice with distaste.It is not that you don't enjoy the pleasure of conversation with some wine and roasted pork, but you would prefer it without the threat of walking yourself into a verbal trap, where you would need to extricate yourself with utmost courtesy.All in all, the tour has had mixed results; the count of Hoenstein had provided you with some useful information regarding one Oskar von Schmallhausen and a Hedwig von Merckhayn, though what they were up to is a bit of a puzzle. On the other hand, your visit with the burgrave of Dornheim was nothing short of an unmitigated disaster. You said a few things were maybe a tad bit high-handed, he retorted in kind, and you left as soon as you had come, before he would tear up his contract of vassalage to you or do something worse.The matter left a bitter, though perhaps sour, taste in your mouth, and you didn't really feel like continuing this tour, or at least wanted to speed it up for your sake. If anything, the nobles should come to you; if all of them were in Ritterbach, there would be no more of this. But what was started should be seen through...General links of varying importance.Pastebin: https://pastebin.com/u/AdlershorstDeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/adlershorstArchive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Settler%20Lord%20Quest
>>6341563Nevertheless, you and the entourage began crossing the outermost treelines of the Rieswald. Like many forests found in Greifswald, it was dominated by pine, spruce and oak, flat of ground and very dense with undergrowth. It was also mostly sparsely populated, even more so than usual, save for a few of the lodges and cabins of the foresters, huntsmen, and other woodsmen who lived in relative isolation. It was for these parts of the journey that you had brought along your Oberjägermeister (High Master of the Hunt). One Hermann von Weitzenhof, one of the few nobles of mixed heritage, a Tauten father, and a mother descended from one of the old pagan Lauvanian kings.And he did fit the look: dark of hair, keen of eye, and very perceptive. Aside from his court position, he was also a Hauptmann (captain) with the forest rangers, men-at-arms who patrolled the woodlands.It was as you came to a halt for the midday rest and meal that he approached in a clearing, while your cooks were preparing a dish of fowl roasted over an open fire. He dropped a piece of torn cloth into your hands, soft to the touch, patterned with a flower motif. Clearly a piece of highborn clothing. ''Where did you find this?'' You asked, looking at the edges where the loose threads had frayed. "I found it caught on a thorn bush a few hundred metres up the road; it smelt of lavender and had a hint of perfume," He replied, his eyes briefly trailing off to the trees behind you. ''Is that so?'' You brought it closer to your nose, and it most definitely was lavender; the other stuff must be one of those new Mithradian perfumes that had become fashionable after your wife had introduced them from her homeland. Whatever it was, it was a bit too thick for your liking. ''It's fresh, is it not? Whoever it belonged to must have lost it recently?'' You asked; the huntsman simply nodded. He didn't speak further, but you knew what he was waiting for, like a hound awaiting the slip.>Gather the men; we're going manhunting.>Invesitgate this further, but I shall continue on schedule.>*throw it into the fire* Enough of that, let us continue.
>>6341568>Gather the men; we're going manhuntingGood to see you are back AdleQM
>>6341568>Gather the men; we're going manhunting.
>>6341568>>Gather the men; we're going manhunting.Welcome back!
''Gather the men; we're going manhunting.'' Finally, some action, the opportunity to prowl around in the forest for a while, and to gather some clues. As soon as the meal had been eaten, the lot of you went on to where the huntmaster had found that piece of cloth.The thornbush that it had been found on had some other pieces on it as well, but aside from that there was not much; the dry weather made it so only on the road were there tracks; in the soft ground of the forest there was nothing. The men split up to cover more ground; the scenthounds were distributed to give each group a better chance of picking up a trail. ''So what do you think it is?'' You asked while the hound you had taken kept his nose close to the ground. ''Well, your majesty, I am – oh, give me a moment here, sniff, boy, sniff it; the damn thing stinks like it would make your nose bleed.'' He said while keeping the piece of cloth close to the dog. ''The truth of the matter, my lord, is that I think it isn't as big as they claim it is. Do you really believe those claims that Schmallhausen or Merckhayn are werewolves, vampires or part of some weird cult? Gossip for young lordlings to gush under the influence of too many drinks – a load of rubbish if you ask me.'' He adjusted his fur cap a bit and then let the hound lead him on.The search went on, the hound leading you past the many great towers of wood that nature had so proudly erected here, their canopy protecting you from the worst excesses of the sun. There always was something magical about these forests, even without the fey inhabiting them, for they seemed ancient, even more so than the oldest of elves.The flat ground meant that you could still keep in contact with the other groups, even if only through hand signals and shouting. Still, you had your day's work cut out for you. To gather more clues as to their whereabouts, roll a 1d100 [DC70]; currently you have one clue. To find what you are looking for, you need eight clues.
Rolled 77 (1d100)>>6341818
Rolled 66 (1d100)>>6341818welcome back
Rolled 26 (1d100)>>6341818
The search went on, the hounds keeping their masters close at the heel as they followed the scent of their quarry. The dense undergrowth made progress slow, but determination and sleuthing would make up for nature's obstacles.Still, your hound did soon pick up the scent familiar to the one you had given in, dragging both you and the huntsmaster along for the chase. It led you to another clearing, where, under a lonesome oak tree, there lay something glimmering in the fading light of the setting sun. As you approached, you realised it was a golden pendant. The main gem it held had been set most masterfully, but the chain had been torn and broken, the metal twisted and mangled. You picked it up. ''If nothing else, we are a step in the right direction,'' you said. ''Hrmph, I suppose so,'' the huntsmaster grumbled, eyeing the pendant warily. ''Come, my lord, the sun is beginning to set, and the camp is waiting for us.'' Aye, your eyes were getting weary, and your stomach began to growl, even if you would've preferred to pursue, but you should take care not to overburden yourself.As the sun thus began to set, the search would have to be paused for now; it would be considered unseemly for the king to stumble about in the dark, and the men and dogs were getting tired besides.Dinner itself proved to be of an improvised but very edible nature: a boar some of the royal entourage had been able to shoot, some forest fruits, and a hearty stew made from foraged vegetables. The flickering firelight danced on all your faces; it was summer still, but the night had proven itself uncharacteristically cool for the time of year.It was while you were busy finishing with the berries and savouring the last bites of stew that the huntsmaster came with another clue: A piece of parchment, torn and weathered, with a message scrawled across it in faded ink. ''They found it on the corpse of some fellow slumped under some bush, not far from where we are now,'' the huntsmaster explained solemnly. The message itself seemed to be missing a few pieces, as dew had damaged the ink and blurred some of the words. The missive read: Come hither at once; we must (…) plans shall proceed ahead of (…) do not interfere with the royal (…) his time shall come (…) the climax shall soon be within reach; bide your time until then. (…) have any and all monks of St Almeric who interfere eliminated (…) send word to Dornheim; he might (…) We shall meet at (…) in the ruins surrounding the evergreen oak. Have patience, brethren, for soon there shall be a great reckoning.
>>6342296You were immediately stung into action, a conspiracy! Or at the very least a plot here, in the Rieswald itself, right under your nose. You are half a mind to muster the guards and pluck this forest intrigue out by its roots, but that might spook them into hiding, so you need to be subtle. ''An evergreen oak; were this winter it would have been easy.'' You bemoaned. ''Indeed, but I do not think all is lost that easily. The letter mentions ruins surrounding the oak, and from what I can remember there are three great ruins in these parts, all of them from the olden pagan days. First there is the old hillfort at Dievenlat, then there is the destroyed temple at Verdena, and finally the old burial mound at Kaldur.'' He explained.Hmmm, the temple would be the obvious place to search, but that might make it too obvious. The hillfort can be a good place to start looking as well but is probably too secular. The mound at Kaldur might also host them, but it's difficult to say for certain that they would be there.But in the end, you set out for.>The hillfort>The burial mound>The old pagan temple
>>6342297>The burial mound
>>6342297>>The old pagan templeRuins surrounding a tree, makes me lean towards a temple
>>6342297>The hillfortIf it was the mound or the temple, the writer would've probably just called it thus. A hillfort though is harder to identify as such.
The burial mound was where the pagan kings of old would bury their dead; with the coming of the crusaders, these ancient structures fell out of use as the Curian church began erecting burial grounds in accordance with the pontiff's dogma. If nothing else, it would be a good place to begin searching. ''Let us go to that burial mound then; even if there's nothing there, it would do me good to see some of this fair country's history before we Tauten brought it into the light.'' You said to your huntsmaster. ''Indeed so, I will talk with the caravanmaster to change the route; it will take about the morning to get there if we rise early.'' Weitzenhof estimated, tallying with his fingers, though he missed one on his left hand.The next morrow, you set out with your entire entourage to travel to this burial mound. For extra safety, you began wearing armour once more, as you were beginning to feel less safe in this Rieswald. As you rode, it would seem nearly as though the past whispered through the trees, which made you even more distrustful.The roads became trails, the undergrowth denser, and the path less trodden; the wilderness truly beckoned. As you strayed ever further from the civilized castles, fields, mills and churches, the rumours among the common soldiers started to shift as well, as the rumours turned from vampires and werewolves to the evil worshippers of the pagan gods of old, who were offering sacrifices for blasphemous powers or scheming to turn Greifswald away from the light, hearsay, the lot of it. Still, it should be easy to recognize; the mound itself would probably still be clear, and perhaps the evergreen oak would be located at the top, though you doubted that; the smaller mounds you had seen typically were bare and devoid of any vegetation save some grass and flowers.To your disappointment and relief, there was a tree growing on top of the burial mound, though it wasn't an oak but an ash. Ancient it most certainly was. The stem was gnarled and twisted but majestic in its splendour of old; the bark had come off in some places, where a new layer had sometimes already formed. Above all else, branches extended and twined in a most brilliant manner. Leaves of a deep golden green, bark of the fairest shade of brown and roots that most likely reached deep into the earth.As for the mound itself, it had been built in a perfect circle, with twenty stones raised around it, each of them carved with a pagan idol. The entrance was likewise made from similar carved stone, though the entrance itself was sealed shut with a heavy wooden door, covered in intricate carvings depicting ancient symbols and figures. Nevertheless, you did climb to the top of the mound, where there was left a small stone altar, surrounded by some of the roots and flowers.As you descended from the mound, you decided to.>Order the mound opened and searched>Have them search the area surrounding the mound>Move on, this is fruitless.
>>6342458>Have them search the area surrounding the moundI don't want to lead with disturbing the dead.
>>6342458>Move on, this is fruitless.Doesn't look like this is the place
>>6342458>>Have them search the area surrounding the mound
>>6342458>>Have them search the area surrounding the mound.Maybe a waste of time, but since we're here...
As you descended the mound, you did wonder, what kind of man lay buried here? He was a king, and a pagan besides, but there is something… Venerable about it, this was a monument that could have been built in days as ancient as the classical empires. There will be those who scoff at such a notion, who would consider this place to be nothing but a primitive dirt pile, and who would rather take what's inside, justifying grave robbing with piety.But not you; as one king to another, you would not open this cairn. This was his grave, and though you might not know from where he came, what he ruled over, or what kind of man he even was, kings shan't disturb other kings' rest.You came down upon the ground and walked around about the stones raised around the mound; some of them had patterns of various things: men, animals, and flowers. ''Found anything?'' You asked in a direct manner. ''There are lesser mounds, but they have been reclaimed by nature or collapsed; some of them have been opened.'' One of your men-at-arms said. "But this one is nearly intact." "Don't look at me, I didn't weed it. I suppose whoever built it intended it to last for a while, and considering how it hasn't been broken open, I bet my boots there's a strong lock on that door." You took one more look at the royal mound before you turned back to them, who had begun to gather around. ''All right, search this place; if there's anything related to those other things in the vicinity, I want to have it.'' To see if there is anything relevant at all, roll a 1d100 [DC55]
Rolled 28 (1d100)>>6343306
Rolled 53 (1d100)>>6343306
Rolled 52 (1d100)>>6343306
''You heard your King! Set out at once; comb over every grass blade and every leaf! If there is something worth finding, it must and shall be here!'' Your huntsmaster barked at the men, who were stung into action.Some went sniffing with the scenthounds; others spread out to search every nook and cranny of the forest surrounding the mound. So they went off while you decided to return to the main wagon and you horse, Wittekind.Due to a gift from a faylord, your stallion, who had carried you through the crusade in Mithras, had been given the ability to understand human speech and respond in kind, as well as intelligence and a lifespan beyond that of an ordinary horse. ''Found anything yet? Those dogs have been restless since you made them search for that cloth.'' Wittekind said, neighing and snickering. ''Not like you are much use; horses aren't renowned for their tracking abilities.'' You chuckled, patting his neck before continuing on your way back to the main waggon. ''I am no ordinary horse." Wittekind asserted. ''No, that the white stag saw fit to gift you is more of a joke than it is a boon.'' you said. ''Now I have been thinking, as you went up to that burial mound, to the ash tree at the top, was there anything unusual? I mean, even if there's nothing, it should be a good vantage point.'' Wittekind snorted.Up on that mound, near the ash tree, which stood there like a lonesome watchtower, well, it couldn't hurt to make a second check. Even if you estimated your chances to be small.As you climbed up the burial mound once more, you began pondering what you could have possibly overlooked. What kind of small detail could there be that was overlooked? You came there the first time; there's nothing there. Besides the tree, there only was a small stone slab that once served as an altar. You hadn't really paid any attention to it; a white flower had been left behind on it, and you didn't really care enough to examine it in closer detail. Though once you put your fingers under the stone slab, you felt that it was unusually loose. You lifted further, and in a compartment of compacted dirt and half-buried stones, there was a small lockbox.
>>6343350The brass box shimmered as you took it out with one hand; you gave it over to one of your aides, who would in turn have it broken open.Normally, the lockpicking would be a time-consuming process, though an axe to the hinges would likely expedite the opening. Inside, there was another letter, one far more complete and far more incriminating. I leave you this letter in good confidence; the excavations are going swimmingly, and the crews we hired keep their mouths shut. We're taking care not to hurt the oak at its roots, but sometimes we have no choice but to dig deeper. The artefacts buried shall usher in a new age once we have them in our hands. To that end, order to have all the Almerician brothers put to death, lest the church shall gain a full idea of what we're doing; if need be, kill the rangers as well. If Rittersbach catches wind, the King will come with his knights, and our plans will be ruined. Remain vigilant; we shall have all we want soon.Signed, the grovekeeper. Now there we have it! Attacking and killing a monk will most certainly put you in trouble, both with the temporal and spiritual authorities, but going after your rangers is tantamount to treason. For the law states that whoever hinders or attacks officers like the king's messengers or his men-at-arms is making war upon the king's peace. You have your proof now at least, though you doubt many would bat an eye if they never saw a trail.You have 5/8 clues; were you to try to search for them now, it would be a roll of 45 DC.Still, you must choose what to do next, now that things are starting to move at a faster pace.>That's it, blast the trumpet and marshal the nearest men from Rittersbach.>No, I require more subtle aid; send for my daughter. The princess Sophia>This would all escalate things too much. No, I will continue to search subtly.>I am going to search for it, and I am going to search for it now.
>>6343352>This would all escalate things too much. No, I will continue to search subtly.We have three leads right now: that the oak is a literal tree somewhere, that the addressee of this letter has the power to put a whole monastery to death, and that an Almerician monastery is in a position to find out about their plans. Of that, the monastery should be the most immediate lead; we should find where such a monastery is around these parts and visit it under the guise of another stop on our tour.
>>6343352>This would all escalate things too much. No, I will continue to search subtly.
>>6343361Actually we have a fourth lead as well: the addressee doesn't want the oak hurt. Why? We should look for a person with a relationship to that tree.
You shouldn't try to escalate too soon; for now an ordinary investigation should be enough. Brute-forcing the matter would blow the cover of whoever this grovekeeper is supposed to be, who would probably go into hiding if you tried to apprehend him.No, you would require more leads and clues. There was a special oak tree that would stay green throughout the year, which would be easy to spot in the winter, even with the spruce and pine around, but it was summer, and thus you could only work out the fact that it was an oak in the middle of a set of ruins.What else was there? An order to kill any Almerician brother they came across. That alone was a bit strange. The brothers of St Almeric aren't traditionally part of anything like the Inquisition, nor are they an armed order. Were they close to finding something out? Was the monastery perhaps close to where this oak was supposed to be? That other letter you got said something about Dornheim, and he said something about a monk you encountered before, about blocking his path if he dared tread upon his demesne again, which was strange. You didn't exactly know what kind of robes Almericians wore, but if they are similar to his, this investigation would get even more complex.Then there was this grovekeeper, whoever he or she could be; the handwriting and vocabulary in the letter made you suspect it was someone of high birth, though you obviously didn't have a single idea as to their actual identity.Perhaps you were overthinking it, or perhaps you had no idea as to the scale of whatever shadowy dealings were happening in the empty places of your kingdom.You weren't certain as to how you would proceed as of yet; you would continue to investigate, but then what? Bluntly stopping by castles and asking about oaks will be suspicious, though you suspect that if whoever that message was supposed to be for finds out you have it, it would raise their suspicions as well.>We should continue on and consult the nearest lord for nearby monasteries.>We should lay a trap for whoever this message was meant for.>We're already on the right road, methinks, so we should simply follow the trail.
>>6343783>We should continue on and consult the nearest lord for nearby monasteries.
>>6343783>>We should continue on and consult the nearest lord for nearby monasteries.
There's not much left here for you to do, no, so you ordered the men to get back into file and form so that the royal procession can continue on its actual purpose, the visiting of the great northern lords.Unfortunately for you, the next stop on the journey was the home of Count Moritz von Talgeich, a fat, grasping man known for his excessive demands and short temper. As a boy, he was stationed with you as a page, though you disliked him then as you do now, not that he noticed, but you and the rest of the boys would eagerly watch the cook give him a clout on the ear when he was caught stealing sweets from the kitchen.Your father had once forbidden you from bullying him further, not that the other boys needed you to push them into doing it anyway, but you kept away from it from then on out, and in the years after, as you went into your squiredom, you saw less and less of him, eventually losing touch completely. His domain on the coast was primarily dominated by dense forests upon hills. His seat, a castle named Alstinburg, lay lazily along the river, brick-red, with turrets long neglected, though the residential parts seemed well-kept. Men bearing his livery were unloading barrels from a barge, while hunters were bringing in large amounts of freshly shot meat.Still, you were hailed with a welcome befitting a king; the village churned out to watch your ride over the main road into the castle, where the count awaited you in his hall.The hall itself was filled with rich tapestries, the smell of burning wood, and richly carved furniture. Moritz rose from his throne, slowly half walking/half waddling towards you. He greeted you warmly. "Welcome, welcome, ha-hah; this, your majesty, will be the finest feast of all. My hunters have assured me that they have plucked the forest dry of the best meat about." For someone fat, you found that he still retained those small, red lips, which seemed to pout with satisfaction as he spoke. As soon as he was finished with speaking with you, you saw him eyeing some servant or the other, ensuring your room had all the accommodation needed before scurrying off.Come the evening, you must certainly have seen he had put on quite the show, not merely with the food, jugglers, acrobats, jesters, and musicians, who, to your distaste, seemed to have a penchant for playing tavern music. All in all, he didn't try to have the other guests keep pace with his gargantuan appetite, which you had satisfied around the time they brought out the cakes and pies, of which he got two. His eyes were getting tight, and his face was red from all the wine he had drunk, but he still seemed able to hold coherent conversation. >Keep to small talk; you won't be able to extract anything of worth from him.>Talk about the rumours in general; see what he knows.>Ask about nearby monasteries.>Write-in
>>6344256>Ask about nearby monasteries.
>>6344256>>Talk about the rumours in general; see what he knowsIt occurs to me that we don't know who is in on the plot, and a man we used to pick on as a child may hold some resentment towards us.Perhaps it is better to not show our hand.
>>6344256>Talk about the rumours in general; see what he knows.
You decided to play it safe. While you don't know if Moritz is or isn't the type to hold grudges, more due to his fickleness rather than any shred of forgiveness, if he was part of this group, you would be better off sticking to more casual topics of conversation rather than being caught asking about monasteries. If the grovekeepers, as you have taken to calling them, know you know about them, this whole operation could fall apart as fast as you had put it together.And so, as he finished scrounging up the last of his private cakes, you engaged once more with him in conversation. While the servants brought forth the wines.The one in your beaker was one of a deep burgundy red, a bit sour to the taste, but with a strangely sweet aftertaste. It was unlike the Mithradian wine, which had a more subtle flavour profile. It did make you wonder where he got the stuff, which seemed as good an opener as any. "Do tell, where did you get his liquor?" You asked. "Southern Tautenland? Or mayhaps from the vines of Aurilie or Castana." He was quick to wave dismissively with both hands, body and head. "No, ha, nice guesses, your majesty, but these are wines from a land beyond our usual suppliers." He laughed and roared as his underchin jiggled with mirth. "This vintage is from far-off Ebronia, the warm lands under the sun, where the Rodrigos and Sanchos of this world have made a wine I find especially delightful." His eyes sparkled with excitement as he poured another glass, eager to share the exotic flavours with you. ''That must have cost a fortune to ship all this way.'' You remarked, to which he gave a smug smile. ''No-no, the mercantile league on occasion ships in goods from further afield; special merchants are known to travel beyond the Angenlander channel to bring in even more exotic goods. I bought this batch in Eisenhaben; it did cost me, but it was all worth it.'' He explained to you. "Still, it is a testament to your wise stewardship of the lands enfeoffed to you that you are able to obtain such goods from far." You flatuously praised him. ''Bah! My father left me a fortune; the old miser never knew what money's really for. No, when he ruled, these halls were bare and empty. Now, I can make it roll and finally enjoy the life I was entitled to live.'' You chose not to react to that last part; from what you had seen of his serfs, they weren't particularly destitute. However, you couldn't help but wonder if his lavish lifestyle was truly sustainable in the long run; whoever inherits this fief will probably be lucky if the treasury has any coin left by the end.>Have you ever heard the proverb that one must spend money to make money?>It has been a long time, hasn't it? For we haven't spoken since I started on my squiredom.>So, how is the family coming along? Any prospect of a betrothal? How's your maternal uncle, the baron of Ögyrn?
>>6344678>So, how is the family coming along? Any prospect of a betrothal? How's your maternal uncle, the baron of Ögyrn?
>>6344678>>Have you ever heard the proverb that one must spend money to make money?Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to try and influence his spending to more productive avenues?
>>6344678>Have you ever heard the proverb that one must spend money to make money?
The count might spend his money as he sees fit, but as his king and liege lord, it is in both your interests that he at least learns the value of investing. While you might not be able to turn him into the most able administrator the realm has ever seen, you do hope that you can introduce him to the idea that if you put coin into a productive enterprise, it shall in turn fill the coffers in the long run. "You know, you seem to have a nose for the finer luxury goods in life." "Yeah, what of it? I'm not going to join the monks any time soon, so I might as well enjoy life to its fullest!'' Moritz jovially exclaimed and swung back another cup. ''Yes, have you ever heard the proverb that one must spend money to make money? This merry court of yours must surely cost a fortune to keep running. Considering how much of the stuff you have, perhaps you should try to produce more of such fine things.'' ''What? Carpets or tapestries? I'll be competed out of the market by the guilds in the cities, although…'' For the briefest of moments you saw something sparkle behind Moritz's eyes, though it dimmed when his cup was once more filled, so you brought him back to the lesson. ''Although what? Do you have some secret place you get high-quality tapestries from?'' you asked in jesting mockery. ''Not exactly, a thought shot through my mind; tapestries need coloured threads, which they need from the dye makers, who in turn need the herbs and plants that grow in abundance in our lands. I happen to own a few plots where flowers grow in vibrant hues, which I can trade with the dyers.'' The conclusion he landed on was a relatively amicable one, though perhaps you could help with a discreet tariff on dye once production was up and running.>Well then, there you have it; start supplying dyes to the dyers.>Hmm, I could of course help you a bit; a tariff on foreign dyes would help, I think.>Hmm, anything else? Surely your land must have more than only flower fields?
>>6345112>Hmm, anything else? Surely your land must have more than only flower fields?
>>6345112>Hmm, I could of course help you a bit; a tariff on foreign dyes would help, I think.We need a friend in the region. Perhaps our unpopularity was not entirely unearned.
>>6345112>>Hmm, anything else? Surely your land must have more than only flower fields?Let us not dissuade him from the dyes industry, though tariffs seem pretty extreme unless he can produce a very large amount of them.
>>6345200What I mean is, if he can actually produce good quality dyes in large amounts, some tariffs may not be unreasonable.
>>6345112>>Hmm, I could of course help you a bit; a tariff on foreign dyes would help, I think.
>>6345112>Well then, there you have it; start supplying dyes to the dyers.
"Hmm, anything else? Surely your land must have more than only flower fields?'' You don't have an exact map, but from what you can remember, the fief Moritz inherited is of average size for a northern Greifswalder count. There obviously had to be more to his lands than mere flower fields for dye production. ''Well, there's lumber, but every Greifswalder noble with a bit of land already engages in that trade. Beer perhaps, though that would mean competing with the monasteries.'' The last word made you quickly look about the hall, though none seemed to listen in. So you decided to continue with the topic of beer. ''Well, that depends. What's the nearest monastery?'' You asked. This would be important. If it was an Almerician monastery, you would bolt to it as soon as you had left this place. ''The Abbey of St Madalgar, run by the Laurentine brothers, though I don't see how that will help.'' Moritz murmured. ''Do they use hops or barley in their beer?'' You asked. It was a question you knew he didn't have an answer to, but it would give him something to think about. ''How in all the blazing firepits of damnation am I supposed to know how the Laurentines brew their beer! I—oh, speak of the devil, I think this stuff is from St Madalgar." He said as the servants, having spent the reserve of wine for the evening, switched to beer. "Learn what they put in the beer, and bring out your own version; if they have beer with wheat and barley, then you should brew wheat and hops." You explained as Moritz, having traded in his winecup for a beer mug, emptied the contents of the mug in one long gulp. ''Oh, I get it! You want me to sell that which nobody else is selling! Hahaha, smart, but come, you are my king, and you are here to be entertained, not to act as my steward! Hahaha! He then gave you a firm pat on the back; the weight made even a well-built fellow like you recoil in your seat. Midnight was coming soon, but you had a feeling you wouldn't be in bed until sunrise.In retrospect the hangover was well deserved. A poor decision, certainly. Do you regret it? Absolutely not. You haven't drunk this much since you held a feast in Mithras or the evening after you were crowned.But now, after breakfast, you spend some time regaining your balance and orientation before it is time for you to move on and meet up with your next stop on the tour. As it happened to be, it would be near the coast, which would mean leaving behind your investigation in the Rieswald.>Leave behind Weitzenhoff; he will keep up the pressure while I finish the tour.>Oh well, we shall search one last time before we leave this place.>Nothing we can do about it, I suppose; time to move on.>Even if it's an Laurentine monastery, you still would like to visit.
>>6346062>Oh well, we shall search one last time before we leave this place.
>>6346062>Even if it's an Laurentine monastery, you still would like to visit.Worst case scenario? We get some good beer.
>>6346062>>Oh well, we shall search one last time before we leave this place.Our visit with the count has spurred on an interest in the economic potential of the region, naturally we would want to do a little surveying. Perhaps we might even want to look around for these flowers he mentioned, who knows.
>>6346062>>Even if it's an Laurentine monastery, you still would like to visit.
Rolled 2 (1d2)1: One last search2: The Laurentines
These attacks on the church and its monks concerned you. And while the letter had specified that the Almericians were the primary target of their attacks, the Laurentines most certainly were not exempt from the potential danger as well. Even if it wouldn't be done with the same pomp as with the nobility, you decided to take a small detour to the abbey of St Madalgar. Straddling along the northern edges of the Rieswald, the abbey grounds had been donated in the time that the order still held sway over these lands. It was a quiet part of the realm, away from the coastal cities and great inland estates that otherwise so dominated northern Greifswald. You had never been there before, not even during your squirehood, for Ehrenfried deemed the entire area to be one of unexciting simplicity. Simple it most certainly was; the land was flat and dotted with both small homesteads and homes bound to the abbey. In the fields peasant and monk alike toiled under the watchful eye of the abbey's towering spire. Only the occasional tree or the edge of the forest broke this monotonous landscape, as though this place had been like this a hundred years ago and would be like this a hundred years from now. Tranquil stagnation, not unlike that which you had seen in the elven cities of the north. The abbey itself also doubled as the local parish church and was raised from local stone and wood before being plastered white. You had sent word ahead, and the abbot, a skeletal man with piercing blue eyes, awaited your arrival. "Heaven's blessings upon you, your majesty." His voice was hard but smooth, like polished granite. "Blessings upon you as well, abbot," you replied, returning the greeting. The abbot led you into the courtyard. As is typical of monasteries, it was a small grass field surrounded by a cloister. A small fountain bubbled in the centre, its water reflecting the sunlight, as on occasion small birds landed and took off. "We are, of course, honoured by your visit, sire, but this is quite out of the ordinary. We're not the biggest nor the most prestigious of all the monasteries in this realm, or even in the north." He explained, a note of humility in his voice. "That may be so, abbot, but I have found prestige or size are not all that matters, nor is my visit merely out of curiosity." You fell silent before you continued.>I am here because I have been hearing about some concerning events in the nearby woods. Have you heard about it?>I have heard that monks of another order, the Almericians, have been attacked while travelling through the Rieswald. Has anything of that sort happened here?>Strange things are happening south in the Rieswald; have there been any guests travelling through there?>Write-in.
>>6346566>I have heard that monks of another order, the Almericians, have been attacked while travelling through the Rieswald. Has anything of that sort happened here?
>>6346566>>I have heard that monks of another order, the Almericians, have been attacked while travelling through the Rieswald. Has anything of that sort happened here?
"I have heard that monks of another order, the Almericians, have been attacked while travelling through the Rieswald. Has anything of that sort happened here?" It is, of course, possible that this place was left out of their initial plans, but when a traveller requests to rest in an abbey, they're obligated to provide bed and board, regardless of their order. "The Almericians, you say? None of our recent guests have been a member of that order, only some fellow Laurentines, a few laymen, and some monks of other orders.'' The abbot kept silent while you passed another arch. "I cannot exactly see what is going on within the Rieswald, but if an Almerician is involved, there is something very dire in the works," the abbot spoke, his voice low and serious. "How so?" You asked. "Most Almericians are like us, regular monastic orders, but they, together with a select few other orders, have been used as 'specialists' by the church in the past." The abbot's expression darkened as he continued. "I assume this doesn't cover violence or other such matters; that is the place of the various knightly orders." "It's more subtle than that, " the abbot explained. "If such an Almerician stumbled upon something that might interest the church, they would start reporting about it back to their superiors. If they're attacked, it is because the attacker doesn't want that information to reach the church." >That doesn't make any sense; murdering them will just attract more attention.>Uh-huh, and have there been any interesting guests?>Write-in
>>6346975>That doesn't make any sense; murdering them will just attract more attention.
>>6346975>Uh-huh, and have there been any interesting guests?
>>6346975>>That doesn't make any sense; murdering them will just attract more attention.
"That doesn't make any sense; murdering them will just attract more attention. " You said, logically speaking, when one doesn't want to be found, it's best not to draw attention to oneself by murdering the investigator. "Yes, it is illogical, but perhaps whoever is behind these attacks either doesn't think it through, wants to draw attention, or simply doesn't care.'' The abbot nodded in agreement.You spend the rest of the day brooding and theorising while you observe the brothers through their usual daily routines, ora et labora, and all that.But who or what was behind it still eluded you; obviously, the writer of the letter could write in a longhand that couldn't belong to a peasant or common labourer, so you would have to select suspects from up high. They were confident enough to order death upon members of the church, as well as officers of the crown. They're either at the very height of Greifswalder society or completely mad.Still, dinner as a guest with the brothers of St Madalgar proved to be a welcome interlude from all this thinking. The abbey is more than happy to host their guest, so much so that the usual prescriptions on the consumption of food, usually only lifted on feast days, are for the occasion.Dinner was fine, if a bit lacking on the usual meat in favour of vegetables and fruit. The brothers were gracious hosts, engaging in lively conversation with your men as the night dragged on. While the abbey wasn't big enough to support the production of beer, there was a small reserve which was served. Still, you couldn't help but shake the feeling that you were missing something with this search. >The abbot is hiding something, or someone.>Perhaps the grounds around the abbey might reveal something more.>I don't suspect the abbot, but this building might have secrets of relevance
>>6347625>Perhaps the grounds around the abbey might reveal something more.
>>6347625>>Perhaps the grounds around the abbey might reveal something more.
The abbey itself probably isn't of much interest to this grovekeeper, whoever he or she might be. However, the same cannot be said of the area surrounding the abbey, the farms and fields of the peasants surrounding it. Aside from that, the edge of the Rieswald should be searched as well.Come the following morning, you left the abbey after breakfast, though the abbot bid you a warm farewell together with some of the other monks. His prior breathed a sigh of relief; now your retinue wouldn't pilfer the provisions any longer.Still, your huntsmaster rounded up the rangers and distributed them the hounds once more; the riders were given instructions to ask any or all locals if they had seen, heard or otherwise noticed anything of note, suspicion, or interest.With the sun rising up from the east, the riders would interrogate and arrest anything or anyone suspicious, while the rangers would use the hounds to try to pick up a lead. They dispersed, going on their own way as you watched. You made a quick prayer to the gods for a fortuitous outcome to their search.You had a feeling there wouldn't be much of a chance to keep searching before you would have to move on. While you would have stayed, it would be unbecoming for you to tarry for this long. Especially if there are still lords awaiting your visit. That would be unfortunate, but the duties of kingship couldn't be denied for so long. Hopefully, this wouldn't be in vain. To see how much of a success this search will be, roll a 1d100 [DC55]
Rolled 100 (1d100)>>6348125
Are we rolling over or under? I forget.
>>6348226under
Rolled 41 (1d100)
Rolled 9 (1d100)>>6348125
This is going to be fun with a capital F.
>>6348459The search went on. The riders, rangers and hounds scoured the countryside. Peasants were stopped on the road, and farmhouses, sheds, and haystacks were overturned and searched. The hours began to drag on; the sun began to rise properly, reached its zenith, and then climbed down again as it passed its shift on to the moon. They had searched long and hard, but in the end, the search turned out fruitless. "Nothing? Why, by the martyrs of old, nothing?" you half-shouted in frustration. It was beginning to get on your nerves. A threat was growing right under your nose like a weed. And there was naught you could do but watch and wait, for searching was proving itself to be increasingly futile.But investigating and searching was all you could do; how would you fight something that doesn't want to show itself? And so you delayed your parting for just a few more days. To, at the very least, get the chance for someone to find something. But, alas, that was not to be.Not that you would get the chance to uncover it at all, for it had made the first move.As you were preparing to finally leave behind the abbey and its surrounding grounds, a rider, dishevelled and tired, rode with an urgency that only the most desperate of men could muster.Both he and his horse nearly collapsed from exhaustion as they came to a halt. He handed you a sealed letter, barely able to speak as he gasped for breath. The letter bore the royal arms, and you knew then that you were too late.The message itself was a copy of one sent to Rittersbach a week ago; in it, the town of Vierkreuzgang beseeched the royal court for aid against a mysterious force led by a green-clad grovekeeper, who was besieging the city with an army of cultists, constructs made from trees, and a variety of other such strange creatures. The urgency of the situation was clear. An entire city under siege, and you were here chasing after a lead that had already gone cold. You felt your knees grow weak for a bit, though you quickly regained yourself. While you made for a poor investigator, there were few men in the realm suited to war like you.The realm was at war once more, though it was against a foe you didn't know. From what you could gather from the missive, the marshal has already given the order to muster the troops, and local lords have been authorised to use their levies to contain the damage. Grim tidings for an increasingly grim age. But for as long as you remained king, you would be there to stem this tide. >We must return to Rittersbach posthaste.>This retinue is small but able; we shall bolt for Vierkreuzgang.>Coordinate with the gathering army; we shall join up just before Vierkreuzgang.
>>6348471>We must return to Rittersbach posthaste.The temptation to join the fray is great but in this hour we must inform and coordinate.
>>6348471>Coordinate with the gathering army; we shall join up just before Vierkreuzgang.
>>6348471>>Coordinate with the gathering army; we shall join up just before Vierkreuzgang.Gathering levies along the way would be a natural course of action, send riders ahead so that the levies can already be ready and waiting.
This is what it had come to, wasn't it? For all your searching and sleuthing through that damn forest, you were now forced to relieve a besieged city. Open insurrection, war upon your city. This will not do; this won't do. No, you were king, and you would draw the sword once more. "How far are we from Vierkreuzgang?" You asked of your huntsmarshall. "About a week's ride, but you aren't suggesting we—" He seemed almost as beaten down as you were, though a firm glint steeled his resolve as much as it did yours. "No, have another set of riders prepared, and tell my scribes to begin sending out missives to the mustering forces. Have the marshal begin marching along while picking up the others. We will rendezvous beforehand. I fought the heathens in the crusade, and I fought the Svengaleans close to home. I would not be much of a king if I couldn't offer battle on my own soil." You said with determination.You were back in your element; this is what you were made for. Glory on the battlefield suited you a thousand times better than touring the stuffy courts of some fat noble (no offence, Moritz) who never lifted up a sword or lance in his life. At heart, you were still a knight first and a king second; that the two happen to overlap is a happy coincidence. If your father was to be remembered as the founder, then you would be remembered as its warrior-king.But enough of that; there was a war to win, a grovekeeper to hang, and a certain group to face your wrath soon enough.Armour clasped, sword in sheath, horse saddled, and the road ahead. What more could a man want from life? You made good progress, only stopping every once in a while to help with the answering, replying and coordination of various troops and missives. News from Vierkreuzgang had become scarce, though reports from nearby rangers did suggest that the city held on for the time being. While you had left with a small retinue of elite knights from the capital, you were slowed down when levies from the places you passed by joined up with you to the main camp. You rode into the camp with full glory, helm shining in the morning sun as you made your way to the top of the hill where the leadership was to gather. There, you greeted your old friend Marshal Erhenfried von Issenwald, who was getting there in age but wasn't quite withered. You shook the other lords' hands as you took formal control of the gathered forces.Now, you weren't certain how many or how terrible the enemy forces would be; the letter talked about more than mere men, and you weren't certain if the force assembled now could take it. You could wait, of course. But that would mean leaving Vierkreuzgang out in the cold longer than potentially necessary.
>>6348594>We must march now; relief must come, and it must come now.>I fear we aren't numerous enough; we must wait. >This requires more than ordinary means; send for the princess.>This stuff has something fishy about it, something…Faelike, I must consult the White Stag
>>6348594>We must march now; relief must come, and it must come now.
>>6348594>We must march now; relief must come, and it must come now.Reinforce the town until Sophia or Gandalf arrives
>>6348597>>This stuff has something fishy about it, something…Faelike, I must consult the White StagWe may be in over our heads.
>>6348597>We must march now; relief must come, and it must come now.Speed.
Doubt beset you for a while; you weren't certain as to how able Vierkreuzgang's were nor how well built and maintained the wall and towers were. Thus, to save this city, you decided to act now, even if it meant barreling into an enemy that could very well outnumber you.Still, you doubt that, even if it were a matter of pointing the lance and routing the enemy, it would be over that quick. No, this required the aid of a specialist when the time would come. But for now, you would need to ride for Vierkreuzgang with all the haste in the world.The army was smaller than the one you were used to, mostly due to the haste with which it had been assembled and because it was considered to be an insurrection of a smaller scale. Scouting reports had given you the impression that though you would be outnumbered, the actual quality of both the armour and weapons and the troops was poor. Your force was smaller but could, with proper manoeuvring and leadership, use its superior equipment and training to devastating effect. But first, you would need to ensure your positioning was correct and that you would approach from an advantageous angle to maximise the usage of your troops while minimising their numbers while they were still spread out along the walls of the city. To obtain a stealthy approach, and thus catch the enemy of guard, roll a 1d100 [DC70] To deterimine opening moves of the battle.
Rolled 28 (1d100)>>6348914
>>63489144Chan considers my empty roll posts spam all the time
Rolled 39 (1d100)Dammit!
Rolled 50 (1d100)>>6348914
Rolled 35 (1d100)>>6348914
All besieging armies know the risk of being outmanoeuvred by a relief column. It is why they keep sentries to ensure that they are at least aware of the movements of said army. And so it is here; scouts have reported that various enemy sentries are keeping a watch on the road.Most have not been alarmed by your sudden movements north, and those that have were killed to a man in a series of quick but decisive skirmishes. The path is open, and the element of surprise is still firmly in your camp.But most important of all is the fact that you still have the freedom to manoeuvre. The forest screens your exact movements and location for the time being, and that gives you a strategic advantage in planning your next move. Freedom of manoeuvre gives you the opportunity to deploy from wherever you wish, save for the part over the river. Where you approach from the north, you would come via the fields and pastures there; it is where the enemy has relatively few men, though apparently there are things that didn't look quite human among them.Were you to come from the east, the forest could potentially both aid you in hiding until the last second and hinder having troops march in proper formation.Lastly, the southern approach would also go over open fields as well, straight into the bulk of the enemy army; it would be bold but risky. If properly routed, it would cripple them for the remainder of the battle.Each had it's own set of advantages, and potential risks and obstacles, as such, weighing your options, you decided to come from.>The north>The south>The East
>>6349731>The EastWe have zero experience fighting against non-human creatures and our army is too small to win a clash against the bulk of the besieging force. Our main advantage is surprise and initiative, and going east will maintain both.
>>6349731>The EastThe forest will hide our true numbers and aid in making the enemy panic
>>6349731>The East
From the east it was decided that you had too much of a small force to blunt your way in, so it was decided that from where you were currently stationed, you would march north, swing east, and take the road downwards until you approached Vierkreuzgang from the east.The marching itself went well, though above all of you hung an air of uncertainty; you had brought more in terms of variety and quality, but they would still outnumber you greatly.It was for that reason that you would blend into the nearby forest, for you knew that to be your greatest asset in keeping them off guard. Upon a fine summer's morning you and some select companions came to the edge of the forest, from where you would take a closer look. Indeed, the bulk of the human parts of the besieging army lay southward, but what disturbed you greatly were the cracks in the walls, and the giant treemen were most certainly responsible. They didn't look like the ents you saw with the White Stag; even from afar, the ones that hadn't been turned to cinders by the defenders were twisted and gnarled.Nevertheless, you had the troops move in, poised to strike. There were two things you could do: either you could try to go and try to attack the northern part of the besieging army, which would be safe, but in turn would most certainly leave you open to the intervention of the main compartment. Otherwise, you could charge straight into the heart of the besieging army and try to take them by surprise. Risky, reckless perhaps too, but if you succeeded, it would win this battle before the next day.>Take the safer approach, and try to move in a circle around the city. [Medium Risk: DC60]>Be bold: Charge straight for the bulk of the enemy army [High Risk: DC50]
>>6350287>Take the safer approach, and try to move in a circle around the city. [Medium Risk: DC60]
Better to be safe, it was decided. The various enemy troops stood strewn about outside the city walls, still awaiting the moment for the treemen to finally knock down the ever-crumbling bulwarks that had kept the city safe. From atop the walls, you could see the brave defenders of the city peeking out beyond the battlements with their crossbows, bows, and melee weapons.Defeat them in detail; that was the plan you would go with, as you knew that a direct assault would be too risky. Instead, you would wait for the perfect moment to strike and catch them off guard. And so, ever silently, though not too slowly, you had your army creep towards the edge of the forest, in particular the cavalry compartment, so the charge could come unhindered by the trees and underbrush. It would require the footmen and archers to run fast for the briefest of moments to create some room between them, the main part of the enemy army, and the target. Nevertheless, you were there when the horn and trumpets were blown, and from the foliage there emerged both the white-blue of the Adlershorsts, the red-white of Greifswald, and the various heraldic colours of the knights and lords, signalling the beginning of the coordinated attack. The infantry would pin, the archers would harass, and the cavalry would hammer into its side. You hung back, overseeing the general army as the lance started to tilt, the footmen moving forward in unison, poleaxes and other weapons at the ready. Roll a 1d100 to see how this clash shall proceed
>>6350551Oh yes, and a DC of 60, of course.
Rolled 72 (1d100)>>6350551
Rolled 18 (1d100)>>6350551
First contact is made; the footmen smash their polearms into the foes. By all accounts, it should have been the end of it; the superior arms and armour should have easily defeated the enemy forces. Yet this didn't happen; they were losing their ground, but they held still.Then the cavalry charged, and you had hoped that they would have broken through, and though they sent a few of the rebels, for you weren't certain what you should call them, flying. But they weren't able to break completely through, so they broke off and regrouped.Not even the archers, who had been raining down arrows upon them, had much of an impact. They seemed to be unnaturally stubborn, for they didn't back down. "They're coming, my lord! The treemen are moving; the treemen are coming this way!" One of your spotters brought your attention to something: the initial plan had failed; you would need to rout this enemy unit then and there, or else you would surely be outnumbered. You gave the order to disengage, so footmen and horsemen both might have the opportunity to regroup. Not that there was time to properly regroup. But it was what it was. There was no way back.Turns until the main compartment reaches you: 3 Roll a 1d100 (DC65) to see if you can push through.
Rolled 50 (1d100)>>6350908
Rolled 70 (1d100)>>6350908
Rolled 47 (1d100)>>6350908
"Damn it all, we're running out of time, regroup!" You shouted as a variety of horns and trumpets sounded the recall. It was time for a new plan; this time, the cavalry would circle around completely and attack the enemy from the rear.And so once more, the usual slugfest developed, with the infantry on the frontlines, the archers in the back, and the cavalry quickly travelling a distance so they might build up more speed. Time was still of the essence; if you couldn't make it, you would be pinned by the rebel forces, a scenario which would most certainly mean doom.So you left nothing to chance, not this time. No, you rode to the head of the wedge formation, unsheathed your sword from the scabbard, held it high, and bellowed at the top of your lungs. "Knights of the realm, at the ready, prepare for a charge!" With a furious warcry, Wittekind immediately began picking up speed; you had no need for the spur anymore, for your steed and you could work in perfect unison.You picked up speed still; the dry summer air cooled as it went through the slits of your helmet. They had seen you, obviously, but it mattered not; they couldn't properly close ranks. Within seconds you saw the whites of their eyes and then crashed into their lines with devastating effect. Wittekind's iron hooves cracked open ribcages while you slit throats with Silberkralle, its mithril blade cutting through flesh and lamellar like a knife through butter.This time, they crumbled; this time, they panicked; and this time, they broke formation. Between you, the other knights, the footmen still hacking into them, and the occasional arrow, it was too much; they tried to get out, to flee in whatever direction was open. Some would make it; others would not. But as a cohesive unit it was neutralised.You took the lull as an opportunity to regroup and reweigh your options; the treeman drew nearer still. It would be but a matter of minutes. Thank all the gods they were so slow. From atop the gatehouse, a man who you presumed to be the mayor watched and signalled that he could open the gate to you if you so wished. On the other hand, withdrawing into the city might be foolhardy, but so is staying in the field.>Let us withdraw into the city so we can bundle forces with the watch and militia.>We shall stand and fight the treeman head-on.>We will keep with the original plan.>We must withdraw, we clearly lack in numbers.
>>6351039>We must withdraw, we clearly lack in numbers.We have a whole army gathering, let's find it and lead it here.But send a messenger through the gates to regale this to the mayor
>>6351049thisdiscretion being the better part of valor and all that
>>6351049Support
>>6351039>>Let us withdraw into the city so we can bundle forces with the watch and militia.On the contrary, let us send riders to draw the rest of the army to us.They are left with 4 formations, and there are 4 gates. The enemy won't be able to contain us without spreading themselves too thin, allowing us to sally if they try to breach the walls, and our archers especially will be a great boon to the defense.
>>6351200this is a very risky course of action - may be their army is ten times as big as what we are seeing herewe must stay mobile
>>6351039>>Let us withdraw into the city so we can bundle forces with the watch and militiaLeaving now will damage the defenders morale
>>6351253not if we send a message that we'll be back soon with a larger forceanyway they're in a better position now than they were before we attacked
It would be a bitter pill to swallow, but in the end, you knew what was to be done. You were severely outnumbered, and you would need to withdraw from the field. Others were still mustering at the rallying fields, and that was where you would withdraw towards. "We must withdraw; we clearly lack in numbers. Send a rider to inform the mayor. How many days' march is it to the rallying field?" You informed your men. It was an unpopular decision to withdraw after winning the opening engagement, but you knew it to be necessary. The men glumly acquiesced with your orders. One benefit of withdrawing in the northern route was that you could finish off the unit you had engaged earlier in full, rendering its shattered troops beyond any form of reorganisation. There would be no chance of those fellows rejoining in enough numbers again.Your rider did inform the mayor, who was disappointed but relieved. Not all hope was lost; it was a silent march. Neither demoralisation nor the eager spirit of victory clouded over the columns as they went; you joined up soon enough with the arriving levies and troops from throughout the northern regions. "Treemen, you say? Those fey creatures don't usually get out of their deep woods." Someone said to another noble commander. "Indeed, but trust me, those things were terrible to behold; we were lucky they're so damn slow. Damnable creatures, the fae normally keep to their trees; something must have ticked them off." He explained. "Oh? Did that son of yours step on a piece of magic bark?" The joke got no response but a glare.You yourself secluded yourself in your tent, those treemen shouldn't be there, and you had thought that you had reached an accord with the master of the ever-fickle fae. Nevertheless, you went back to your work while the day came and went, and when evening fell, pale moonlight came through the canvas, and from it came the snow-white fur and great antlers.The White Stag had come, the lord of the wild parts of your realm, master of fae and guardian of the enchanted forest. "I should have known. What do you know about these treemen? You're not the type to go back on your word, but these types of blatant transgressions cannot be ignored." You said. "I hadn't given my permission, if you wish to know, but liege and vassal do not always see eye to eye. It would seem the fallout of our dealings caused more backlash in my realm than in yours." A rebel against the fae lord then, or at least, that was the conclusion you were coming to.>That explains the treemen, but what about the humans?>And who exactly would this fae be?>There was something off about those treemen, like they were rotten.>Write-in
>>6351278>That explains the treemen, but what about the humans?>And who exactly would this fae be?
Merry Christmas everyone~<3
>>6351278>>That explains the treemen, but what about the humans?>>And who exactly would this fae be?Merry Christmas lads
>>6351278>>That explains the treemen, but what about the humans?
Oh, I'm a bit late, so Merry 2nd Christmas Day or boxing day or whatever the English-speaking world calls it.
You took a chair, sat upon it, and leaned back. "That explains the treemen, but what about the humans?" To that, the stag reared its head. "I wouldn't know; I do not tarry far from my domains, and I do not traverse upon the lands of man often. There are exceptions, of course, but from my own searching I can only conclude either that the humans are pawns or collaborators." the white stag paused. "Pawns or collaborators, you say." You nodded in understanding. "Many fae possess the ability of glamour, to cast an illusion over the unsuspecting, either to protect themselves or to deceive others. It is possible that the humans you saw were under such an enchantment, but," He paused. "The level of autonomy your soldiers ascribe to them makes me lean more toward the possibility that they are collaborators, though such dealings have a tendency to end." The white stag stopped, a solemn look in his eyes. "I made such a deal with you as well," you reminded him. "True, but I believe our agreement was made upon clear and simple language, which is where most of the trouble comes with such creatures." You peered past the white stag to ensure no one was looking, though you had the suspicion that none could see his silhouette in the canvas of your tent anyway. "That covers the footmen. Now I would like to know more about the leader. There is this grovekeeper, who, according to you, is in league with another fae. And I would like to know who exactly this fae is." There had always been stories: don't stray too far off the oft-trodden path, for if you followed the voices in the woods too far, chances were you weren't going to get out ever again. Fae, or fay, had never been true friends of humanity and the other races, but to call them enemies would be going too far. They were whimsical and fickle, unpredicatle and wild. "The faelord in question is Narmamorë; he usually prowls the woods as a great black-coated wolf with amber eyes. He was… a friend of mine, before the coming of the black-robed metal men." Black-coated metal men, those could only be the crusaders who came into this land at the beginning of this century. History tells much about the battle between the knights and the pagan kings, but much, much less about whatever happened with the fae, save that large portions of the forest got scorched by the teufelsfeuer.>And let me guess, Narmamorë is still embittered.>So this Narmamorë is rebelling against you?>Are the fae truly that offended at our treaty?>Write-in
>>6351598>So this Narmamorë is rebelling against you?>Are the fae truly that offended at our treaty?
>>6351598>And let me guess, Narmamorë is still embittered.> What chance is there at peace?
>>6351598>>Are the fae truly that offended at our treaty?
"So this Narmamorë is rebelling against you?" The fae do fight among themselves then. You weren't a true expert upon the subject of fae politics, but if you were to guess, parts of the White Stag's forest domain were subdivided between various vassals. "During the crusade, as your history calls it, a lot of our brethren were killed; a lot of us soured upon the interactions with the humans, so much so I had to seal a large section behind locks of amber. Narmamorë was always proud and headstrong; he demanded tribute from the chiefs around his domain, and he never liked humans, nor elves, nor any other of the other soil-toilers." The White Stag explained. "Soil-toilers?" You asked. "Our word for all those who, ahem, work the soil, instead of living upon it, all those who dwell in halls of dead wood or stone, or practice even the most basic of agriculture, are soil-toilers." Soil-toiler, eh? You never touched either hoe nor plough once in your life. But you suppose that all civilisations, even the most savage, at the very least understand the basic concepts behind agriculture and land cultivation. "Are the fae truly that offended at our treaty?" You asked of the White Stag; surely if he is the lord of the forests of Greifswald, he would have the authority to consent to such a treaty, and besides, the treaty gave both sides various concessions. He would dampen the luring voices and cooperate with Greifswalder authorities if bandits tried to flee into the deepweald, and in return, you made certain that both the deepweald and the protective layer of woodland surrounding it wouldn't be cut down, as well as blocking the expansion of settlements into the forest and clamping down on the hunting of fae in both animal form and otherwise.
>>6351848 "Civilisation and the wild have oft been at odds; you kind came into this world as wild as we are, and I mean men, hobbits, dwarves, elves and orcs. All of you once lived off the land and the wood. But times changed, and you learnt mastery of both stone and metal, and woods slowly came down as fields and pastures came in their place. We fought back, of course, but metal and fire proved better than bark and amber. And so, we slowly retreated to the sparse part of the continent, for civilisation had won, and it left many bitter and grieving. I myself once did so as well, though I chose for conciliation instead of revenge. I sought you out, for I sensed you were of royal blood, even if it has only just ripened. Men and fae can work together; I have seen them doing so myself, and so I wish for coexistence, which I purchased with our treaty." The White Stag paused, and even from behind the ever-stoic visage of a deer head, a hint of sadness and weariness could be detected. "But there would always be those who would object, Narmamorë first amongst them. He was once the guardian of one of the great oaks, a position I thought him suited for, but if you were to look at it today, it is withered and desolate, life around has retreated, and Narmamorë still blames all men for it." Something in your head then clicked; the final clue fell into place. "And that oak would be the one the grovekeeper mentioned, wouldn't it?" "Indeed, though neither I nor Narmamorë go there often, I would know; I ask the migrating birds to keep an eye out. When you're done at Vierkreuzgang, I shall show the way." And with that, he faded into the moonbeams, and when the way he came, which left you as exsparated as ever with fae magics.Nevertheless, the road to Vierkreuzgang lay ahead, and with the morning march, you reached it. The relief army is now bolstered with extra footmen and archers, giving you the numbers you required. The enemy has, of course, noticed, and though they had been able to knock down an upper part of the city walls, they were still busy breaking their way into a breach. They have lined up themselves. Men, treemen, and various beasts of all kinds of forms and shapes, though nothing that could fly. On the one hand, those animals would be a tough nut to chew; on the other, their pelt would look great in the trophy rooms, your own and your vassals. It was time, time for revenge.>Let us go to them so we may retain the initiative.>Let them come to us, so we may harass them.
>>6351849>Let them come to us, so we may harass them.The treemen are slow and the animals don't have bows
>>6351849>Let them come to us, so we may harass them.
It was decided that the army would remain put; the slowness of the treemen would hopefully hamper the rest of the enemy footmen, and time would be essential so you could both regroup and position.To take better advantage of the walls, you had one of your flanks placed against it to block at least one potential attack route. And with it being high summer, and the bark of the treemen probably dry, fires were ignited so the archers could light their arrows and so ignite their bodies.Between the lines of the footmen and the archers, piles of dried straw and wood were laid down and ignited. All archers would be instructed to focus their fire on the treemen, aiming to eliminate them quickly before they would trash their way through your precious infantry lines.The cavalry would ride about as well to counter-flank if they tried to flank you. And they came; the wild beasts came first: direwolves, boars and bears. Charging through upon the lines with feral ferocity. And though they did take down unlucky sods with their weight, most couldn't bite, scratch nor chew their way through mail. And soon the poleaxes came hacking and slashing at the beasts, their sharp blades finding weak spots in the thick fur and tough hide. A distraction, an appetiser, nothing more. If this Narmamorë thought this would stop you, you could see why he lost in the crusades. Roll a 1d100 [DC65]
Rolled 58 (1d100)>>6352241
Rolled 52 (1d100)>>6352241
Rolled 14 (1d100)>>6352241
The hooves stampeded, the men dug their heels in, and the earth trembled with each step as treemen uprooted and plunged into the ground, their terrible wrath and weapon of ambers and branches coming ever closer. But that did not mean they were invincible; terror-striking certainly, but as the flaming arrows bore deep into their armour of bark into the soft, vulnerable wood underneath, a few lucky shots managed to set some of the treemen ablaze, who ever so slowly burnt to a crisp, taking some of their comrades with them as they fell on the ground.Cheers came from the ranks, but they subsided as the fight proper began in earnest, which required their full attention. It became obvious that man-to-man, your armoured troops outmatched the lighter armour worn by the rebel forces of the grovekeeper. Their weapons were also substandard, and so the only proper threat came from the treemen, who sent a few unlucky fellows flying. Though even the fearsome ents and treants, whose corruptive form was now close enough for you to see, gnarled and twisted, could not backhand enough of your men to keep them from hacking at their feet, while the fire arrow kept coming. All in all, the melee that was developing was currently turning in your favour, for numbers and a few living trees ultimately couldn't win against grit, determination, and good, honest steel. Still, your foot lines were stretched to their limit, and while the knights and other horsemen were doing their job of screening and countering your other flank, only they remained for further operations.There were thus two options you could take, as far as your mind could find them: either you could continue with the current approach, which would be safe, though it could probably damage your footmen if your weren't careful.The other plan would be to form the cavalry into a wedge and drive hard and fast through the enemy lines; it's risky, but it could relieve the footmen from the current pressure.>Keep it up, we shall do this slowly but surely, caution is the way to go.>From into an wedge, and drive this godless scum back into the woodlands were they belong!
>>6352450>From into an wedge, and drive this godless scum back into the woodlands were they belong!
>>6352450You turned around, looking about for a squire or some other messenger. You saw what was coming, and though your footmen yet held against the onslaught of the treemen and rebels both, the toll would be high if this current stalemate continued, even if it would end in your favour. So call upon your ultimate trump card: the prime of the Greifswalder nobility and gentry. The massed shock of the knightly lances would surely rout the rebels and leave the treemen open for even more attacks. "You, present my compliments to the head knights, and relay my order for them to regroup and form into wedge formation, then have them charge into their flank; it's high time we pushed this godless scum back into the woods!" You uttered the last few words with a passion that stirred the men around you. You knew the virtue of remaining calm under pressure, but it was times like these, when an enemy would threaten not only your soldiers but your civilian subjects as well, that both your heart and lungs were stoked with righteous fury.It was enough; you would ensure that the ringleaders would either die here or on the noose. As for Narmamorë and his fae minions, you would see what the White Stag and you would agree upon; the only thing you wished for was that he would be punished severely.Upon your right flank, the knights formed up, lances high, picking up speed as they started their charge, the lances slowly tilted down as they aimed for the enemy lines. The thundering hooves of the horses once more reverberated on the ground. The collision was imminent. Roll 1d100 [DC55] For the effectiveness of this charge.
Rolled 66 (1d100)>>6352537
Rolled 33 (1d100)>>6352537
Rolled 13 (1d100)>>6352537
They slammed into the enemy formations; some went flying, lances were broken, and the splinters were sent flying. They had free rein, being too ferocious for the enemy foot to block and too quick for the treemen to catch. The relentless charge, in combination with the grinding advance of the footmen and the continued support of the archers, was decimating the enemy ranks. The stalemate was gone, the tide was turning in your favour, and panic swept throughout the rebel ranks, save the treemen, which began rampaging and stamping about, eager to kill as many of both your own men and their craven comrades; the beasts were slaughtered alike. With the occasional dying yelp of a dying wolf or boar. Things turned chaotic when they routed in full, and the men took to hacking and torching the remaining treemen, which fell down, resin flew from their wounds, and their branch-like death shrieks sounded over the field of battle.Making up the tally, you concluded that while your losses were neither severe nor light, you would be able to replenish and expand; the rest of the year would probably be spent fighting against these rebels and their fae masters. Unfortunately, the leadership of this particular band of rogues and ruffians seems to have fled into the woods, no doubt to stage another attack when they have regained their strength.The battle was over, and all men, highborn and commonborn, set to systematically skinning and looting the dead beast for their pelt, skin and tusks. The most fair of which were heaped before your feet; it would seem that you would have a new bearskin cloak for the winter, as well as some nice tapestries for on the wall. The spoils were quaint, but what you truly wished for was their leadership; they might have some information about the grovekeeper, and though the White Stag had agreed to show you the way to the so-called great oak, for now you were without direction as to what you should do next.The mayor of Vierkreuzgang did ride out of the city gates, handed you the city keys as a formal thank you and expressed his further gratitude, promising that the local craftsmen would make a worthy artefact to aid you in the days to come. You took the keys out of the box they were kept in, took a close look at the silver and bronze out of which they were made, and laid them back in the box. While you would return one day, as is custom, they will remain with you until such time as the actual artefact is ready for you to receive. This wasn't done, far from it. Narmamorë and his human collaborators would be brought to justice. The captured among the rebels were either unaware or unwilling to disclose the identity of their vile masters, and so you had them all hanged after a short mass trial, as all were guilty of treason against king and country; the sentence was obvious. That night, the White Stag appeared once more. His white coat was stained with red traces of blood.
"Narmamorë tried to have me killed by siccing his brood upon me." he explained. "They have been unsuccessful, I take it. Is it your own blood or theirs?" you asked. "A bit of both; they're black-coated wolves just as vicious as their father, but, of the eight he sent, five didn't live to tell the tale." He looked unusually hateful when he spoke those words, both hurt and angry. You decided to change the topic. "You promised me you would show me the way to the oak our 'friends' kept talking about. I have finished my business here; my hands are free. My ranger captains and other commanders can keep Narmamorë's cronies in the forest for now, especially with the still-gathering levies. If any time is the time to go there, it would be now." You said. "I did promise you that, and we shall go at your convenience. It is a barren land surrounding a near-dead oak, though it is hard to find if you're an outsider. Travel northward; I shall meet you close to the main road with some of my own retinue. Do take some time; your men need their rest after." And he once more left as quickly as he came. It was getting tiresome, but at least he didn't speak in rhyme or riddles or something dumb like that. Now you had a choice: either you could march straight to meet with him, or you could linger awhile to both muster and call for some specialists.> No dillydallying, we must march now.>We shall go and move back to the rallying field first to gain some extra numbers.>Send word to Rittersbach, tell Sophia to come down from her tower, oh, and get me the elven court representative as well.
>>6352779>Send word to Rittersbach, tell Sophia to come down from her tower, oh, and get me the elven court representative as well.
>>6352779>>Send word to Rittersbach, tell Sophia to come down from her tower, oh, and get me the elven court representative as well.
This was getting beyond your area of expertise; you weren't certain whether you could take down Narmamorë. The mithril blade of Silberkralle might have a chance, but to put it quite simply, you lacked the empirical precedence as to whether fae were vulnerable to mithril as well, and besides, you had a feeling things were about to get more mystical than you would care for, so it was time to bring in the specialist.Your daughter Sophia is a powerful mage, and though she is currently researching a variety of subjects, she is always ready to help if her father and king ask for it. And this fae business would probably require the intercession of a mage for one reason or another. Furthermore, you would ask for the representative of the Elven princes in the north: Lord Aldamir. Elves were typically known for their deep connection to the mystical and often associated with the fae; one story posits that early men and elves diverged when some of their last common ancestors crossbred with the fae, though another record stated that the elves and fae came into this world together, with the wild for the fae and the civilised for the elves.Nevertheless, you awaited the two and their escorts for a few days at the rallying field, a good time to lick wounds, restock, and prepare for the inevitable confrontation. Sophia came first, riding amazonian with a retinue of eight swanknights, members of the most prestigious (and only) order of chivalry in Greifswald. Lord Aldamir arrived a day later, wearing a tall, plumed, winged, silvered helmet typical of elven nobles, and he brought about four elven riders with him.You quickly briefed them of the situation, and though Aldamir expressed his scepticism at being needed, he and Sophia both agreed to travel with you northward to meet with the White Stag.After two hours marching northward, the White Stag stood upon the open road, as blatant prey as a hunter would ever encounter. For many in the army, it was the first time they had seen such a great beast, and many reached for their bows and knives. But before any of your number could do anything, he stepped forth. And lo! His perfect snow-white coat shone in the sunlight, mesmerising all who beheld him. He then spoke: "Be at peace, men of Greifswald, for I come as a friend and ally." He spoke with an unnatural authority; men were compelled and sheathed their weapons as easily as they had drawn them. He had told you about the compulsion most fae charm men with, and seeing it in action both amazed and unnerved you, even if you felt unaffected.
From out of the forest there then came his following: more stags, bears, and treemen, both great and small; overhead there flew great hawks and eagles. Upon some stages there rode or floated eerie, green-tinted slender women, their hair and clothes flowing as if underwater. And fewest of the few, there came the winged archfey, with brightly coloured wings resembling those of butterflies, moths or dragonflies. A great fae host, if ever you had seen one, but what came next wasn't fae but rather something more mundane. "Aiya, o harnë lie!" The cry wasn't directed at you but rather at the five elves you had. More elves, though these couldn't be more different from the ones riding with you, in their green, white and brown colour scheme and verdant cloaks. Where the elven nobles you knew preferred their helmet to be decorated with the likeness of dragons or eagles, their nobles preferred stag antlers and intricate leaf patterns. Your mind raced to make sense of it, to see how. How could this many elves live here and go entirely unnoticed? And as per usual with this sort of matter, the White Stag provided the answers. "These are my other subjects, wood elves; they decided to retreat into my realm after an unfortunate encounter with your father. I gave them shelter in exchange for further vassalage. They have been here for a very long time, and I didn't want to leave them to their fate." Your father had never told you about such an encounter, or perhaps your memory had failed you, but that would be a discussion for another day. From the way you looked at it, a very powerful host had now been assembled, and so it was time to march. "I shall lead the way; try not to get lost, and do listen to any laughter or whisperings in the wood. I shall do my best to silence them, for where we're going, you must be prepared." The White Stag declared and began leading the column down the road. Half an hour later, you turned and went upon a narrow trail in the woods, where the canopy was thick and the air cool; the trees themselves hung forebodingly over the trail like the axe upon a neck. It never seemed to end, and you felt, in the shadows, that there were amber eyes, looking, stalking, but not daring to approach. Finally then, you came to the place you had been looking for; it was a bleak, desolate sort of place. The oak tree in the middle had long since withered; around it, only bleak grass grew, swaying in the wind like ghosts. Beneath the oak tree, however, there had been signs of activity, for a large slab of amber was laid bare, large beyond large, of ridiculous proportions. And before it, there stood an army, a smaller army, but an army nonetheless, made up of a variety of humans, some elves, and various dark beasts and other unseelie creatures.
Both of you came to a halt; you spotted that there were three main leaders: a hooded man whom you considered the grovekeeper and a knight, his helm blackened and adorned with antlers, though you weren't able to discern the heraldry. And finally a black-coated wolf, amber eyes shooting hatred and scorn.You tried to peer beneath the hood of the grovekeeper, but you didn't have much luck. Though you soon turned your attention to the scene that was about to unfold. Both the wolf and the stag stepped forth and began to speak. "Traitor of your own kin, has humanity beguiled you thuswise? If you knew what was good for you—" the wolf growled, its voice low, guttural and menacing. "No, Narmamorë, I may not always know what is good for me, but I know what is good for my realm," the stag replied, its voice calm and resolute. "You were always eager to make friends with the unworthy, Aran-Arasso. This forest, and by extension this land, belongs to fae and fae alone; all others must either serve or die." The great wolf once more growled. "And look at you now, aligning with the brood of one of those delectable Tautens who once ravaged this land, though I myself must admit to such a convenience." He pointed his paw at the grovekeeper and the knight, who remained silent for the time being. "Do you not recognise them, boy?" Narmamorë clearly addressed you. "I suppose not; your father would've. It would be impolite if I didn't let them introduce themselves." He once more turned toward the White Stag. "I will not ask you this again, Aran-Arasso; either you stand aside, or I will have your throat." "I have trounced you twice, Narmamorë, and if need be, I shall do it thrice." Uncharacteristic grimness settled over the White Stag's brow as he began to stamp and jump, while Narmamorë growled as his fangs gleamed. The wolf and stag were heading for the inevitable clash. Antlers crashing into claws, hooves meeting fangs. The sheer spectacle nearly distracted you from the fact that the knight came forth and threw a gauntlet at the hooves of your steed. "I do hereby name you a pretender and usurper, and your line ignoble and dishonourable," he declared, his voice ringing out across the clearing. The words were enough that the lances were lowered almost immediately, and someone else called back "Bold words, for one with neither name nor honours." You weren't really certain as to who this fellow might be, but he most certainly wasn't loyal to you.>Unhelm yourself, churl, for I wish to know who is so brazen as to challenge a king.>Be gone from this realm, for I name you a traitor and seditious knave. >Is that all, miscreant?
>>6353169>Unhelm yourself, churl, for I wish to know who is so brazen as to challenge a king.
>>6353169>>Unhelm yourself, churl, for I wish to know who is so brazen as to challenge a king.
>>6353169>>Unhelm yourself, churl, for I wish to know who is so brazen as to challenge a king.Perhaps it is not a wise course of action, but in my opinion we should attempt to descalate this confrontation.Fae and human both have transgressed, whether meaning to or not, but blood shed today, as in days before, will only lead to more down the road. We should try to mediate and bury the hatchet, so they say.
"Unhelm yourself, churl, for I wish to know who is so brazen as to challenge a king." You said in reply, you put one hand on your sword, just in case. For the man behind the armour simply laughed and replied, "I shan't unhelm myself because you want me to. Who are you to order me? I have never served you, nor do I intend to now." You wanted to say something, but you were then distracted by the still brawling White Stag and Narmamorë, though they seemed to lose the proportions of the animals they pretended to be more and more. "I have taken up a vow that I would not unhelm myself in public until the day that the last Adlershorst is either dead or driven from this realm they unlawfully usurped." The helmet obscured it, but you were certain you heard the venom dripping from his voice as he spoke. Whoever he was, he seemed to harbour a major grudge against not only the Griefswalder monarchy but also the house of Adlershorst. "Then who are you? For your heraldry is unknown to me, and your voice unfamiliar." You asked of him. "That matters little; it is not a name you would know, but your father would, and I was denied my vengeance against him. You will suffice just as well." The more you looked at him, the more you felt that there was something off. His body language moved unusually, and even from behind the shaded slits of his helmet, you saw glints of darting eyes. "Are you done with your theatrics? It is nearly time; we must now await Narmamorë's return." The voice of the grovekeeper, who had remained silent for now, had turned his hood to face the knight. "This again? Have I not told you that I can do this with these forces? If he isn't busy being gorged to death by that deer, he can do whatever he wants; I shall have my vengeance now." For a moment, they seem to have forgotten that you were there, and to your surprise, the foreparts of both armies hadn't decided to crash into each other just yet. But the tension was most certainly in the air.>Call out one last time, try to bargain for peace.>Blow the horns; enough of this, time for battle.>Traitors aren't entitled to honourable battle; have the archers get the drop on them.
>>6353569Is that guy from the former Order?>Blow the horns; enough of this, time for battle.Shooting them is tempting, but when dealing with fae it's best to maintain proper conduct imo
>>6353569>>Blow the horns; enough of this, time for battle.>>6353794Gotta be that bastard that ran off
"Enough of this tarrying, blow the horns; I want this to be over before either of them returns." You told your commanders, who immediately went to their own positions. A few seconds later, a squire blew upon the horn. A low rumble flowed forth from the horn as metal feet and weapons moved in unison. The footmen began with their advance; on your flanks, the fae and elves did likewise. Moving against their opposite number with quick speed, a gory melee was about to begin; archers likewise shot their arrows into the enemy ranks. Treemen on both sides trashed and backhanded their foes with powerful blows; a scant few even began to wrestle with each other, while others threw rocks. You kept your cavalry in reserve for the time being, and in coordination with the leader of the Wood Elves, who Lord Aldamir translated for, they did the same, though the flying compartments of the fae host flew in and out, picking off loose targets, though they retreated upwards when the enemy treemen nearly hit a great hawk.As for your opponents, they were nearly caught off guard; the knight in particular seemed furious, though you couldn't hear his cursing or whatever he was screaming about beyond the most primitive of sounds. Not that you could hear him for any longer, because you returned towards the rear so you might better help coordinate. You would have gladly duelled him, but a general who is also a warrior must decide which role he would play, and you considered it irresponsible to leave behind command for the duelling thrill.
>>6353923Over by the oak tree, the two were still duelling, though by now they had given up all pretensions at being animals. The white stag had transformed into an elflike figure, not the old man he usually posed as, but a youth in his full glory, from under his helm, snow-white locks flying about as he dodged the double-bladed axe and tried to thrust with his spear. Narmamorë, on the other hand, had transformed into a warrior who perhaps closely resembled the pagan Vikings of the Norse. He howled like a wolf and bellowed like a man. They clashed, blow by blow, for neither seemed to gain the definite advantage. You watched on for half a minute, though you knew that it was the battle, not the duel, where you could make a difference. "Father, I sense sorcerers amongst their ranks." Your eldest daughter Sophia chimed in, and indeed, in multiple places, eldritch beams and bolts started shooting, though the archfey on your side soon began to shoot back. It wasn't formation-breaking, nor did it destroy the organisation of your army, but there would be a whole lot more wounded and dead, as you preemptively ducked when a green bolt whizzed overhead and blew up a tree in the distance.You groaned, "Don't start with your own magics just yet, my dear; I need reserves. Let the fae do their magic first; they can do more than either of us." "I can see that." She watched as one of the two archfae turned the shafts of arrows your archers shot into sharp, pointed thorns that impaled the enemy soldiers. >Hold our position; we need to fight defensively.>Push and push, we need a breakthrough.>Order the cavalry to outflank and charge; we need to hurt them in their backline.
>>6353925>Order the cavalry to outflank and charge; we need to hurt them in their backline.
>>6353925>>Order the cavalry to outflank and charge; we need to hurt them in their backline.
Obviously, you weren't going to break through with those treemen about. No, you would need to repeat what you did at Vierkreuzgang and use your superior force of cavalry to manoeuvre and then turn their right flank. That would win this battle or at the very least bring you closer to the victory. You gave the order to the massed force of knights, squires, elven riders, and great beasts. Which moved towards their position, slowly at first, so as not to tire out the animals prematurely. The enemy treemen and the scant few great beasts among their ranks obviously saw this movement, but they were on the other flank, and that would work to your advantage. Soon enough, they went from the walk to the trot, the canter, and finally the full gallop as they closed in on the enemy's right flank. Lances low, other arms out, and a variety of war cries came out as the enemy braced for impact….>Base DC of 50>Flat terrain +5>Untrained enemy +10>Exposed right flank +5 Roll a 1d100 [DC70]
Rolled 1 (1d100)>>6354413
Rolled 95 (1d100)>>6354413
Rolled 24 (1d100)
The horns and trumpets sounded ever louder and louder; with full speed they rammed into the enemy rank and file. Many were sent flying; the first three lines of enemy troops effectively ceased to exist. The cavalry pushed on towards the rearguard of the enemy, where the wood elven spellsingers shot fireballs at the treemen. For a minute, the grovekeeper seemed to counter with his own sorcery, but he was soon cut down by the lance of one of your knights. It was a brilliant charge, and one which effectively disintegrated the enemy army upon impact. Panic was spreading. How could the frontline continue if the rear were open to an enemy attack? The leadership was crumbling; you reared your head to the rotten oak, where the White Stag had gained the upper hand over Narmamorë, deftly disarming him with the tip of his spear. Narmamorë turned back into a wolf, but the White Stag stabbed him in the leg and began to use his magics upon him, lifting him into the air. As the wolf hung in the air, fresh resin began to encapsulate him as it began to harden into a prison of amber.None except a few watched, for the pursuit was still in full swing and the fate of the mystery knight was yet up for grabs. If he were dead, you would be glad; if he had fled the field, you would be displeased but would have the satisfaction of calling him a craven if ever you met again. But for now, you would content yourself with having as many enemy troops killed or captured as possible. With their master captured, most of the enemy fae and creatures of the wood fled as well, though a good chunk were cut down; some of the treemen crumbled, falling apart into pieces of rotten wood. After two hours of hunting down the remaining opponents, a silence fell over the battlefield as the wounded on your side were carried from the field. Tomorrow you would come for the dead, but in the evening there would be celebrations, but first, you rode over to the White Stag. "We've won. I take it your dispute with Narmamorë is now at an end. Speaking of which, is he—" You took a look at the oval-shaped capsule wherein there now sat a black wolf. "He's alive, but captured. I stabbed him in the thigh so he couldn't flee, though I cannot bring myself to kill my old friend, so he will remain sealed forevermore." He then turned to the rotten oak.
"Long had I hoped that this tree of ages would be able to heal, but with its guardian fallen so far, I must admit defeat; it is rotten, from the branches to the root. Let it die in full, so something new may grow in its place." And from his spear there flowed fire, and the ancient tree caught on quick, dried by weeks of summer; throughout the evening it would burn. While you and your allies remembered the valiant dead and celebrated the victory, Tauten beer and Elven wine flowed freely. Fae performed magic tricks for the men, and the great beasts pranced, flew or did other impressive feats to entertain the crowd. This night would seal the pact you had made with the White Stag in full. For as long as an Adlershorst would rule in Greifswald, the fae court would consider itself an ally.To your disappointment, the rogue knight who had challenged you was nowhere to be found, but the body of the grovekeeper was identified. A disgraced nobleman by the name of Alarich von Granhofen, who had fled the family castle after his brothers confronted him over a selection of missing peasants, for they found out he was consorting with dark powers. Whoever the mystery knight was, you would make a point of it to consult the roll of arms, both the 1270 and the 1235 versions, to find out more by way of his heraldry.Still, taking out two of three members of this triumvirate of evil was something you were sure would be made a good show of by the chroniclers and troubadours. Whoever this mystery knight was, he would be hunted down; of that you were certain.>As soon as we're done here, I want every man to look for him!>He will be making too much ground for us to catch; let him come to us.>Have some men shadow his movements; I will await for a moment to entrap him.
>>6354776>Have some men shadow his movements; I will await for a moment to entrap him.
>>6354776>Have some men shadow his movements; I will await for a moment to entrap him.We really need a spymaster or a diplomat, this whole adventure makes it clear that Albrecht isn’t built for court intrigue. Perhaps Anastasia should take on a larger role here.
>>6354776>>Have some men shadow his movements; I will await for a moment to entrap him.
It was morning; you still had a headache from swilling back too much of both the Tauten beer and the Elven wine. Now, you would oversee the collection of the dead from the battlefield; the enemy would be buried in a sandpit, and the various bodies of your side would be sent to their home villages. As for Granhofen's body, you weren't certain, but you decided to return it to his family as well, though you advised them to put a heavy stone slab upon his grave, for with wicked men such as him, you could never be too certain.The oak tree had burnt out, and the White Stag furrowed among its ashes and cinders; already the grass seemed to become greener, and the bleakness you once felt in this glade began to clear. The rot had indeed died, and now something new could grow. You rode closer, both to say your farewells and because you wished to know what on earth he wanted to find in the ruins of a tree. The amber prison beneath had been buried; the sealed fae there had died when the White Stag destroyed the oak, and no trace of their presence remained. And yet, as he brushed aside the ashes, he picked up something which shouldn't be there: An acorn, small and unassuming, but golden of tint and pulsing with a faint blue light. The White Stag gave you a glance, smiled, and threw you the acorn, which you caught. "Keep it; plant it somewhere nice and memorable, or feed it to your horse; it will make its way out intact." He explained as he turned back into a proper stag, while you appraised the acorn between your thumb and forefinger. "If I plant it, it will sprout into another magical oak, will it not?" You asked, While a quaint gift, you weren't exactly waiting for it to be corrupted or worse. "Obviously, but rest assured, as long as it isn't bound to one as dark of soul as Narmamorë, it will grow strong and healthy." A pause came between you. "And now we must part; the crisis has abated once more, and though I do wish to repay your hospitality of days past, for now, I will say my goodbyes. Farewell! May the verdant canopy of the forest protect you on even the darkest of days!" And so, he and his army retreated into the woods; for a while you saw them, but then they were gone.As you returned to your tent, you found yourself in conversation with Sophia, as while the two of you were riding, she had taken the acorn in her hands as well. "It is obviously magical, Father, though what exactly the arcane properties of such a tree are I cannot say." She said as you entered the tent, "Indeed, now don't get any ideas just yet. I am not certain whether to plant it; destroying it probably won't work, and even if I do plant it, it's a question of where, so for now, it can stay in the box." And you put it in the jewellery box where you kept your signet rings and other various precious items.
Enough was enough for the time being; you would return to Rittersbach. The unvisited lords would understand; this was a crisis, and in the aftermath of it, frivolous touring could wait. There were things you would need to do. You had your rangers chase after the rogue knight. Though he didn't make much of an effort to hide himself, he still wore his surcoat and barding for all to see, but he had made a lot of headway. He was heading north, to the coast, but instead of going east to the Viskaran border as expected, he went west, into the Lindwurm peninsula. A peninsula dominated by its wild coastlines and craggy interior, it was the most mountainous area of Greifswald, apparently created from a set of dead volcanoes.As you once more took hold of your Mithradian-style throne in your palace, you began to pense. Obviously, this was a security breach, and though you wouldn't blame ordinary men for failing to deal with the machinations of the fae, two-thirds of that treemanship was made out of men, Greifwalders both of them, and whatever accounted for the intelligence network obviously hadn't been able to net the slippery fish. Unofficially, the royal council did have an Hofspitzel a court spymaster, but the position hasn't been filled since its creation, both because you disregarded it as skullduggery and because you didn't find any candidates. Still, the obvious security lapse meant that, whether you liked it or not, you would try to make an effort of at least making sure this doesn't happen again.>For something like this I need an outsider, but where to search? Certain commoners are good at this sort of thing. Aren't they? I should find one in the tavern.>None can scheme like the Mithradians, and I am wedded to one; even if she disdains it, she knows enough to be of use. >The church holds many men whose careers are at a seeming dead end, but the confessor can wield as much power as the cardinal were he to confess himself to the right ear.
>>6355147>The church holds many men whose careers are at a seeming dead end, but the confessor can wield as much power as the cardinal were he to confess himself to the right ear.A churchman would be 1. literate and 2. enmeshed into the local society.
>>6355147>None can scheme like the Mithradians, and I am wedded to one; even if she disdains it, she knows enough to be of use.Her loyalty is unquestionable, her appointment would strengthen our house, and she could deal with every faction in the kingdom. She would not need to be hands on, the Hofspitzel must remain in the capital to advise the king, while the dangerous work could be delegated to subordinate officers. Overall the role would align seamlessly with her duties as queen.
>>6355147>>None can scheme like the Mithradians, and I am wedded to one; even if she disdains it, she knows enough to be of useFor that matter she may know of some from her homeland who might make good candidates.
>>6355203Shes also been in Greifwald for 16 years now with in-depth knowledge of the kingdom’s governance, factions, and key figures
Intrigue and intelligence work were never your strong suit. While you managed to keep the court clean of such skullduggery, it was obvious that while you could keep such practices out of your royal court, you would need it now more than ever, and the person who could provide you with such expertise was often right next to you.The Mithradians, for better and for worse, are drenched in the intrigues of their palaces, bureaucracy and army. Your queen consort is obviously Mithradian by birth, and while she has made her own disdain for the cruel games played by the eunuchs and the courtiers clear many times, she does know a thing or two about the management of spy networks. You began by relating the details of your last adventure and the various intelligence debacles that had caused it. It was a small dinner, held in one of the smaller rooms within the palace; small but luxurious meals were served, and after dinner was finished and the children were allowed to play or were brought to bed, the two of you remained. She flashed her dusty eyes and then spoke to the remaining servants. "Leave us; you may take the plates and dishes with you, but you may only extinguish the candles when we have left." Three minutes later, the table was empty, and the last of the servants closed the door behind them. "So you believe that you could have prevented these two men you were talking about from enacting their plans if only you had spies in place to oversee them?" Queen Anastasia enquired. "Yes," you said. "Albrecht, you have many qualities, but both of us know you aren't adept in the gathering of intelligence." She hadn't lost her beauty, not yet at least: hair as black as the night, dusky eyes, and lips naturally red, though she had also singlehandedly created the Greifswalder cosmetic industry when local artisans began creating copies of Mithradian perfumes and make-up.Still, you did feel the need to defend yourself. "It worked in Mithras." You retorted. "It worked because you sicced a band of angry barbarians on the masterminds behind my father's death. Trust me, direct violence isn't how they dealt with threats, which is why they didn't account for it." She paused. "As for what you ask of me, I can do it; your mother was so good as to introduce me to the Greifswalder high society. Women might not always get their word in, but their eyes are always open. My ladies-in-waiting do sometimes reveal things to me, either by accident or on purpose; they are our eyes and ears in the nobility." she explained. "Yes, that is all well and good, but what about the commoners and the church?" You asked.
"It is unbecoming for us to deal in such a direct manner with the commoners, but certain servants can. If I wanted to, I could ask my handmaidens to gather information on one of our guests quite easily. We often consider our servants to be more akin to furniture than men, but they can still hear us. As for the church, in Mithras there were always officials in need of an extra stipend, and in exchange they would tell my father what the patriarch was planning. Which is also how we might gain more agents; if we identify people who will provide information in exchange for incentives, either financial or otherwise, we will go a long way." Well, it would mean that the budget would need some vague expenditure to pay for the intelligence network, but that was something you would work out with the treasurer at the next meeting of the council. "Dearest, you talk about gathering information in the centres of civilisation; neither Granhofen nor this rogue knight seem to be the types to be spotted by the type of spy you have been talking about." you offered some mild objections. "Of course, but with men such as them you would need trackers rather than spies, but I believe you have your rangers for that." She mockingly drew her lips into a smile. Enough, you admitted defeat. "Bloody gamewardens," You mumbled more to yourself than to her; the rangers weren't intended as a criminal investigation unit, but you did use them to track across, and even then you didn't find those two missing nobles. "Nevertheless, if you would be so good as to give me a budget to work with, I shall begin making inroads via our social connection; every noble family has one spendthrift, after all." The conversation was more or less over, and you both knew it; you would retire for the evening. The two of you still shared a bed, in spite of the conventional separate apartments in the palace, and you wouldn't have it any other way.After breakfast, you returned upstairs to your solar; there, you took the acorn into your hands once more. While you were on good terms with the White Stag, part of you wished to throw it into the fire and be rid of this obvious piece of fae magic, but you knew it wouldn't be that easy. Still, keeping it in your jewellery box seemed like a waste as well. But where would you plant it?>Plant it in the palace garden; it will adorn the grounds with a beautiful oak tree for generations to come. >Plant it in the inner courtyard of the Albrechtsburg. You had a feeling it would need defence from the ill-willing, and Sophia could monitor it for you.>Throw it into the river, best be rid of it>Keep it in the box, so may never sprout.
>>6355470>Plant it in the inner courtyard of the Albrechtsburg. You had a feeling it would need defence from the ill-willing, and Sophia could monitor it for you.
>>6355470>Plant it in the palace garden; it will adorn the grounds with a beautiful oak tree for generations to come.
>>6355470>>Plant it in the inner courtyard of the Albrechtsburg. You had a feeling it would need defence from the ill-willing, and Sophia could monitor it for you.
Whatever this acorn could grow into, and whatever its nature was, you were certain that it could help you. It was a gift from an ally after all, and it should be treated with respect, but from what you pondered and what Sophia told you, the fae put immense value in their oaks, and gifting an oak acorn such as this was an act of trust according to the ancient lore. But you knew it needed safe confines; you weren't a gardener by trade, but you felt compelled to do it. A tree such as this must be given a place safe from both the elements and the ill-willing. Dark fae, the undead, evil sorcerers and other vile and foul things that haven't yet shown their ugly faces. It would need to be monitored as well, for you felt you, well, Sophia, could learn a lot about this magical tree were it fully sprouted. Luckily, you know just the place. At the heart of the Albrechtsburg, officially the prime royal residence of the Greifswalder royal family, lies a cloister-like garden, at the centre of which once stood some flowers, long since withered, and there now stood only grass and some gravel, though Sophia had taken to planting roses around the edges of the garden. The centre was still empty, and to get there, you would need to go over the walls and through the various halls, corridors and stairwells to reach the garden.It was still summer, though the colder winds from the north began to slowly herald the beginning of autumn, so you struck the earth while it was still warm and soft; your gardeners thus opened a small hole in the centre of the square garden, surrounded by the red brick arches. You leaned over, holding the acorn in your hand, and, hesitating for a moment, you let go of the acorn. Next thing you knew, the gardeners had filled the hole back up. You paced off a bit to see it from a bit further afar. When, not even an hour into the ground, it immediately sprouted out as a sapling, tiny oak leaves unfurling in the sunlight. "What" You were dumbstruck; you weren't an expert, but trees grew much slower than that. Sophia gave a light giggle. "The fae lord did keep his promise then, Father; the oak truly has magical properties." She walked up and knelt to take a closer look as well. "Never mind that; keep an eye on it. I don't want its roots to breach into the royal vault, after all." She was about to give a reply when a man came from the arcade. He was dressed in livery. "My lord, I bring you a copy of the 1235 roll of arms straight from the order archives at Ulrichsburg, as you requested." Your man presented you with the scroll. You took it from his hand, he bowed, and left. "Are you still trying to figure that out? Does it really matter? Whoever that rogue knight is, you will find out once you capture or kill him." Your daughter sighed warily. "I am not doing it alone; I have the king-of-arms and a small army of heralds to help me." You pointed out.
"It doesn't matter who he is; just bring him to justice." She clearly didn't care, or at the very least, had different priorities to whom when it came to dealing with the enemies of the state.As such, you spend the evenings studying the two armorials to oversee which noble families have either been extinguished or which have fallen into disgrace. The king-of-arms, the chief herald in Greifswald, knew nearly all heraldic symbols by memory. He was also among the oldest men in Greifswald, and like many of the older generation, he was a veteran of your father's wars for independence.He seemed to get nervous when you described the heraldry sewn onto the surcoat of the rogue knight. Like a man possessed, he began to frantically flip through the pages of the armorials, muttering to himself about the implications of such symbols. "Your majesty, either fate has a sense of irony, or someone is playing a very strange game." He scowled and pointed to a county escutcheon on the lower end of the page. "Your descriptions match but one family, the disgraced line of Erhad von Pflugfeld." You had the feeling your reaction should have been a lot more dramatic, but you had never heard of this Erhard von Pflugfeld in your life, and when you enquired, the king-of-arms told you he was the man who was count of Grünwald before your father, more than forty years ago. "And did he have any children?" You asked. "None that were legitimate; among your father's first acts was the execution of one of his spawn, and I daresay you may be hunting his brother." >That's forty years ago; I think I might be dealing with a grandson or someone else.>A bastard? Impersonating a knight? It won't be the gallows, not anymore.>Bah, perhaps this fellow merely chose his heraldry by chance or to provoke a reaction.>Write-in
>>6355912>That's forty years ago; I think I might be dealing with a grandson or someone else.
>>6355912>>That's forty years ago; I think I might be dealing with a grandson or someone else.
>>6355912>That's forty years ago; I think I might be dealing with a grandson or someone else.Ohhhhh the brat that got hanged, or his relative.
"That's forty years ago; I think I might be dealing with a grandson or someone else." You said. "At his youngest, the man must be in his forties or fifties, which I doubt; he sounded young, and any older than that and the idea that an elder could be spry enough to travel across the country seems unlikely." You pondered. If only your father were here, he might be able to shed some light on this mess, but you would catch him; he was in the Lindworm peninsula, where he would be caught by the rangers. Either he would need to flee by sea, be captured, die, or hole himself up in one of the old mines, which you doubted he would do. Still, you asked for more information about this Pflugfeld. "A horrible man, if I remember correctly, cupidous and selfish, he named the village where Rittersbach now stands after himself, but your father had the name changed. His death allowed the archbishop of Libau some leverage over the area, which he used to install your father, fresh off the boat from Fluddenmark, as the new count." Now that part you most definitely heard; it is already the founding myth of the nation, or at least of the Adlershorst family. The archbishop Albrecht brings over young Dietrich, who would become king in his elder days. It was the bedtime story of choice with both you and your sisters and made you aware of who you were at your youngest.That now, this seeming ghost of the past, or at least a family with a grudge to settle, has resurfaced. It didn't mean all that much to you; he might be annoying, but your position was secure. The world in which the name Pflugfeld held any power was long gone. Put to the sword when your father rebelled against the order, and killed once and for all when you marched south.The end of summer and the early harvests were a quiet time, which you liked, for it allowed you to manage the coming harvests in advance. In recent years, with the growth of the Greifswalder economy, the mint had created some new coin types. While the silver Greif would remain the basic unit from which all others were derived, there was now the golden Grossgreif (worth 120 regular Greifs) and two smaller bronze Halfgreifs and Kleingreifs (worth 1/2 and 1/4 of a regular Greif). There had been some concerns about the increasing difficulty in sourcing silver, a trend that had continued with the further exhaustion of silver mines all over Argalis, but the local silver mines had at the very least enough to meet the current demand for minting coins. Still, while this business with this Pflugfeld bastard might not be over, you had bigger fish to fry; even to a king, the yearly harvesting season was an important time of year that required your attention. The success of the harvest would determine the granary stock for the winter after all, and your realm isn't southward enough to enjoy the milder ones. Meanwhile, while the king attends his duties, the princess ponders.
He does go on at times; good heavens, this search for this Pflugfeld or whatever didn't require this much effort. He already knew that he was a fugitive and where he was going; that would be enough.Still, you supposed that being this thorough was one of Father's little ticks, like how Ludwig tends to prattle on about the great knight he read about in his romances, or how Mother always insists on buying the most expensive perfume for no real reason.For now, Father had given you charge to monitor and observe the magical oak; though it sprouted quickly, it seems to have slowed down in the days after that, leaving it a sapling of about a metre and a half. You supposed it would follow a slower rate of growth from now on, more akin to a regular oak.Its magical properties were sensible to you; while the leaves didn't do anything special, you did obtain a small sample of the resin for future research. In terms of magical studies, you had been able to complete your rudimentary study in advanced elementalism. While it allowed you to draw upon all elements in theory, cryomancy, or ice magic, was particularly potent. While it was summer, you were able to cool even the hottest of rooms.Your experiments were quite fun, like creating an ice bridge over the river just to see how fast it would melt or if you could keep it intact for prolonged periods of time. You managed to get even better results by combining cryomancy with biomancy.You had been able to increase your own bodies' tolerance for the cold. You found it interesting. But you also didn't want to go too far; that would be too dangerous. Regardless, you would need every trick in the book when it came to the coming bloodsucking menace. Your one foray with the orb had been enough, and Father had ordered it locked even deeper in royal vaults. So you had returned to gaining as much knowledge as possible; you had been able to acquire a copy of the anatomy of vampire skulls as penned by an anonymous abbess of the Sister Sanguine, who helped recovering victims. The illustrations and descriptions of the dissections gave you insight into the exact nature of their fangs, which seemed to be able to suck the victims' blood into the vampires' own bloodstreams. It also describes their weakness to garlic, running water, holy symbols, and the sun, and how the places of power are generally so warded against their influence that their behaviour is generally reclusive, leading nomadic lives or lurking the grounds around lonely castles.
You could kill them, either by fire, true light, the stake, decapitation, or by exposing them to direct sunlight. All of this was valuable, though you suspected that they might have the lesser undead do their dirty work.Nevertheless, you were determined to be as prepared as possible. And you turned the study off.>Psychomancy, the application of magic on minds>Artificery: the creation of magical items.>further study of biomancy, the usage of magic on living things>The study of light magic, pure light that is, not through fire or other things.>more advanced elementalism, the study of magic beyond the traditional elements.
>>6356251>>Artificery: the creation of magical items.
>>6356251>Artificery: the creation of magical items.
>>6356251>more advanced elementalism, the study of magic beyond the traditional elements.MISS ME WITH THAT CRINGE ITEM SHIT! I DEMAND MORE ICE WITCH
>>6356250>Artificery: the creation of magical items.Sophia has batman level prep time, she needs to chill out.
Artificery is the creation of artefacts with inherent magical properties. Unlike conventional enchantment, which is when one enchants an otherwise mundane object into a magical one, artificery involves imbuing an object with magic during its creation process. You can use this in many a way, you could create a ring that grants the wearer invisibility or a sword that never dulls in battle.Advanced practitioners can even take it a step further, practising archimancy, the use of magic in the construction of buildings. Legend has it that the greatest of the Dwarven halls and Elven towers are only kept together by ancient archimancy, as were the mobile palaces of the Isidorian Emperors.Other complex applications were the creation of advanced machinery and downright complex armour which, according to the text you had obtained, could "help their wearer with their movements, being more akin to a second skin than weighty armour, if the reserves were properly charged." Whatever that meant, you were still miles off from having proper understanding on that level, so you made do with smaller projects.First, you ordered the castle smith to take a day off, then you borrowed some schematics from the library; to be honest, you had no idea what you were doing. To begin with, being a woman and never having learnt anything about the smith's craft, you felt completely out of your element. But with some determination, recalling the smith to help, and the liberal usage of telekinesis to make up for the labour your body couldn't muster.In an afternoon of various blunders, close shaves with the forge, though you weren't injured, and cursing (silent on your part, very explicit on the smith's part), you managed to produce for yourself one ring, a simple band of silver that fit snugly on your finger. You did etch in some runes you read about, which, according to the manual, should create a small field of energy around the wearer. If enemy spells or arrows came its way, it was not upper-end stuff, as it could be overwhelmed if one put in the effort. Continuing throughout autumn, you kept practising in between attending your public duties. While you would never manually tend the forge or anvil, you did get rather adept at using telekinesis to use both pliers, a hammer, and fire to shape the metal. By the time winter arrived, you had created your masterwork. If you weren't a princess or woman, you would have submitted it to the blacksmith's guild for the master test all apprentices and journeymen must pass to become a master in the trade.
It was a sword, more made to see if you could make it than for actual use. But deadly it still was. Unlike your father's sword, Silberkralle, you had created it to be as light as possible. You had imbued the blade with your natural affection for ice, it being unnaturally cold and as sharp as winter's chilliest frost; you tested it out on some spare chainmail. Where it penetrated the linking rings less through the force driving the sword on and more through the fact that the sheer cold turned the steel brittle, shattering as the sword went through. You improved on it further, being able to use it as a channel through which you could shoot an ice spell if necessary. You would give it a name in the future, but it wasn't important now; you intended to create a helmet next, or some other piece of armour, more as a proof of concept than for real use. Your sword had been the final in a series of lacklustre and brittle swords which were melted down as soon as they had been forged. The process had been tedious and frustrating, but you felt the craftswoman in you be satisfied with your first proper creation.Now, the forge kept you warm, though the cold never much bothered you anyway, so you would keep at it. Upon the throne, very different ideas are being pondered You looked out of the window; the snow-covered tops of Rittersbach's many spires and roofs were something to behold. Your daughter had been busy with crafting, though how she operated the forge was a mystery to you. She had given the lot of you a set of rings for the wintermass; according to her, they should protect from harm, so you kept it on your other hand, one kept your wedding ring, and the other could bear the other, or the signet ring, depending on where you were.The search for that Pflugfeld has gone well, though he seems to have holed himself up with some unsavoury characters in some remote old Dwarven outpost in the craggy woods of the Lindworm peninsula. The Reichsmarschall had dispatched a small permanent force to breach the wall, but winter's snow and general frost had delayed much. Still, they had been able to force him into the underground section of the outpost; the outer wall was taken with ease, for they didn't have the men to man it, instead holing up behind an obvious choke point. It displeased you, but at the same time, the rat had been cornered.With the winter, the year's labour on the fields had finished, the granaries were stocked, the tools were back in the shed, and the labour in the countryside was free for use. While the ground was still too hard for proper construction, you could at least stockpile and prepare for when the ground would be softer; then the professional masons and carpenters could take over.
Your infrastructure projects had been coming along nicely; the bridges over the smaller rivers had been finished, and the larger ones had a temporary ferry until they had been finished. The larger harbours upon the island had meant that the Greifswalder navy had new bases to operate from, though at present they were stuck in the ice. The new coaching inns had also been established, providing a safe and comfortable place for travellers to rest along the main roads.It was now perhaps time to once more open the treasury and invest.At present, you have about 14,330 Greifs in the treasury.>Build new watchtowers along the border (-4800 Greifs)>Expand the Ambermines of Greifswald (-10,000 Greifs)>Renovate the other dwarven outposts (-12,000 Greifs)>Expand the Albrechtsburg and the city walls of Rittersbach, so the city might grow (-9000 Greifs)>Keep the money for now
>>6356503>Expand the Albrechtsburg and the city walls of Rittersbach, so the city might grow (-9000 Greifs)CENTRALIZE MORE
>>6356503>>Expand the Ambermines of Greifswald (-10,000 Greifs)More money for more projects
>>6356503>>Expand the Ambermines of Greifswald (-10,000 Greifs)
Amber, or Bernstein, in proper Tauten, is perhaps the one gemstone unique to Greifswald; while there are lesser mines across the continent, Greifswald boasts the largest reserves of them all. Funny, because amber isn't a stone at all but rather solidified tree resin. Outside of taxes, it is perhaps the biggest source of income of all for the Greifswalder royal treasury. The mines are mostly in southern Greifswald and upon the coasts are sometimes washed ashore. Ownership of the various mines varies from place to place; some of them are the direct property of the crown, leased out to various miners or mined directly; some were private enterprises or owned by the local lord, who could either lease them out or have them mined directly.Thus, the next step should be obvious: there would be more prospecting, more mining, and more investment in expanding the operations to increase revenue for the royal treasury. Additionally, the new mines will inevitably attract even more Tautens from Tautenland, as well as some dwarves, if the mines are deep enough. There would come settlements to support these mines, obviously, but that would take a while. It was expensive, and the treasury was significantly lighter by the end of the year, but, as the old year passed into the new, the outlook was an optimistic one. Sophia would disagree, of course, but among peasant, merchant, and noble alike, there is a general sense that, by the end of the century, Greifswald would be an able regional player, wealthy and strong.While little progress had been made in smoking that Pflugfeld out of his stronghold, the entrance halls had been taken. He had retreated deeper into the old Dwarven outpost for the time being, but you knew that his time was running out.Still, with the new year started, you decided to once more formally hold court and open the floor to petitioners from all over the kingdom.The first petitioner was a merchant seeking investment, which you dismissed, for you found his ideas impractical and too risky. Second came a group of clergymen from outside Greifswald, asking for permission to excavate and search for a lost relic of some rather obscure martyr who, as your court chaplain explained, had died in Greifswald. You gave them a royal permit, with the condition that the relic be kept in a Greifswalder monastery or temple.And then came the third petitioner, an Elven noble from the woods; he had introduced himself as an envoy of Aran-Arasso, the White Stag, and with the formal alliance, he wished to open up both realms to formal trade. Though under some conditions, with a special delegation being able to buy and sell goods at a set location and vice versa, for the White Stag wished to keep the location of his glade-halls a secret from outsiders.>Enquire as to what good they could want and what they could offer.>Ask about what or where such a trading place could be made and who would be allowed to tax it.>Agree to this offer.
>Refuse, this agreement is too one-sided for your tastes.>Write-in.
>>6356884>Enquire as to what good they could want and what they could offer.>Ask about what or where such a trading place could be made and who would be allowed to tax it.
>>6356884>>Enquire as to what good they could want and what they could offer.
He is your closest ally, the one who has actually proven himself to be a steadfast ally. While the Mozolavian relations are still sour, your alliance with the White Stag actually paid its dividends. Still, it didn't hurt to enquire further. "It certainly is an interesting proposition, but tell me, what goods could we provide to the woodland realm, and what goods could they provide to us?" You had your guesses; they could provide you with elven wine, the grapes of which grow even this far up. Various elven and fae trinkets could also be of interest to your people. "We are primarily interested in ores and metals because of the restrictions placed upon us by our way of life; we often lack metal that can't be panned from the rivers or extracted in a responsible manner from our few mines. As for what we can offer, elven and fae trinkets can be sold; we can also offer high-quality hardwoods, grown in our own forests, as well as some of our weapons. Our vintages would probably be of interest to you as well." he stated. "That is all well and good, but there is still the matter of taxation and location. If the White Stag doesn't want our merchants in his halls, we assume that the marketplace will be upon our soil, and that as such, we would be allowed to collect taxes from the merchants." You said. "A reasonable proposition, your majesty. He wishes for me to pass on to your majesty that he wishes for a fixed trading post to be built somewhere near the border of the woodland realm and the regular forest. As for taxation, we supposed that, as the post will be constructed on your soil, it is only fair that we split the proceeds from the taxes three-quarters to you and one-quarter to us, in exchange for the protection and security provided by your kingdom." He awaited your response as the Reichsschatzmeister (Treasurer) leaned over to whisper something in your ear. "The profits wouldn't be insignificant, but certain guilds might complain about foreign products competing with them." Reasonable, though considering what products the elves are offering you, the guilds that would object the most couldn't rally enough support in the councils.>Agree to the deal.>Try to wriggle out more concessions>Reject the deal.
>>6357333>Agree to the deal.
>>6357333>Agree to the deal.Going to have to watch the merchant guilds closely.
>>6357333>Agree to the deal.Albrecht has popularity to burn. I’m down to weaken the nobles, but I don’t want the merchant guilds or burghers overtaking their influence. the king is very popular with most of the factions in the kingdom(besides the nobility) I think, but better deal with the devil you already know you know.
Rolled 8 (1d100)>>6357333>>Agree to the deal.
You agreed to the deal. Oh sure, some of the guilds might grumble about the new competition; jewellers, weavers, brewers and smiths might feel threatened, but cartwrights, tailors, shipwrights, and woodcarvers would be delighted at the chance to obtain rare hardwoods.Various merchants would also be delighted; the ironmongers in particular would be happy at a chance to sell iron to the woodland realm. Another market was always welcome, especially one which didn't have much of a mining industry. Fishmongers would be eager to sell fish native to saltwater in the inland fae realm, while apothecaries are always eager to obtain access to elven herbs and tonics.A location was soon chosen, near both the forest and a river wide enough for barges, which would help make the location even more convenient. It would be simple at first, a palisade to ward off unsavoury figures, some market stalls, and tents to sleep in; future plans included an inn, a chapel, some houses, and a monument. Compared to the massive amounts of Greifs needed to expand the amber mines, the amount required here was minimal, for the construction was simple, and the fae sent over materials to cover part of the cost.The last echoes of the winter and previous year melted away with the last of the snow, and travel began to thaw itself as well. You were riding northward, towards the Lindworm Peninsula. For they had been able to catch him at last, hiding in the lower levels of the old outpost; he took four men down while they stabbed him in the thigh and then tied him up.As your full retinue rode through the gates, he was on both knees, his helmet still on, looking at the ground. You said nothing to him as you nodded to one of your men, who cut the strap keeping his helmet on. You felt disgust wash over you; whatever he was, he wasn't fully human. He had weird, elongated ears, not like an elf, but stranger. His eyes shone with amber, and as he snarled at you, you could have sworn his teeth looked off. Nevertheless, you decided to open the conversation. "I have been told that one of my father's first acts was to execute a bastard of the Pflugfeld family. Now, I wish to know, are you his brother or his nephew, or aren't you a Pflugfeld at all?" He narrowed his eyes; he wasn't old. You would consider him to be in his late twenties or early thirties if you had to make an estimate. "I know of the one you speak of, but I didn't know him; my grandmother was a woodswoman, and my grandfather found her one eve while hunting, and they had a son who became my father," he replied. "You sound certain, but I doubt you would be able to prove your lineage." "I don't need to prove anything, especially not to an Adlershorst, scum, the lot of you. Grandmother revealed a lot in her old age, and from a young age I knew it was my duty, no, my destiny, to reclaim what should be my birthright." He gritted his teeth, and he turned his face to the ground once more.
Bastards are barred from inheritance, bastard. you deadpanned. "What care I for your laws? Your laws mean nothing to me. Blood is thicker than water, and my bloodline is strong. I will not be denied what is rightfully mine." He grimaced. "And what would that be, hmm? Grünwald, the nucleus of my royal domain? Do you really think you could claim it? Come now." You said while smirking and raising an eyebrow, "We have prospered in the forty years we have been here, and the best thing our enemies have to offer is a bastard in a stolen suit of armour; 'tis truly a farce." He offered no response.>Your not really human, now are you?>Narmamorë would have betrayed you, you know.>Bring four horses and some rope; time for something spicy.>You may not live like a lord, but you will die like one. The sword, if you please.>Bring forth a barrel, hammer nails in, and then have it roll.>A wheel please, bind master Pflugfeld to it.
>>6357682
>>6357684>Your not really human, now are you?>Narmamorë would have betrayed you, you know.>Bring four horses and some rope; time for something spicyIt took four good men to tie him down, it seems only fair that he be quartered into four parts.
>>6357684>Bring four horses and some rope; time for something spicy.>>6357687huh?
>>6357684>Your not really human, now are you?>>6357966Thanks for noticing
"You're not really human, now are you?" You took a closer look once more at the amber eyes, the weird teeth, and the strange elongated ears. He had the touch of the fae about him, though less through inheritance and more through mutation. "I was born a man, but I was lost one day; trying to find a way to overthrow you, I was nearly killed, but then a black wolf found my scent…" You connected the dots, so Narmamorë turned this man into some kind of half-fae. Presumably to make it easier for him to fight you and to make him tougher. "Narmamorë would have betrayed you, you know." "Oh, but I would've betrayed him as well, damn fae; his aid was welcome, but he turned me into a freak. Well, go on! Have you nothing better to do?" He tried to break through his ropes, but he was unable. "Yes, yes, now if you would give me a moment." Greifswalder law states that no man could be punished without a trial. But thankfully, being king, you held wide legal and judicial prerogatives. So you quickly wrote a verdict in shorthand. "You stand accused of murder, high treason, conspiring with foreign entities, impersonating a knight, fleeing persecution and violating sumptuary law. The court finds you guilty and sentences you to death by quartering, to be carried out immediately." You declared in a blunt manner.He said nothing; he simply hung his head in defeat. The courtyard of the outpost was too small for the horse to run through, so it was done on a nearby field. Four workhorses were brought up; four men were given coachman's whips, and the Pflugfeld was tied on his limbs. "One, two, three, Hah-Hah-Hah!" The men yelled as they whipped the horses into a full trot. It didn't take long; he screamed in pain for about half a minute, but he soon was ripped apart. Three limbs came loose, and the last horse had both a limb and a torso; if this didn't kill him, the dismemberment surely would. He would be cremated so none could find him, and this matter could be forgotten.You left for Rittersbach once more; there was nothing more to do. The Black Wolf had been imprisoned, the grovekeeper dead, and now the false knight was dead as well.Life continued on in Rittersbach, as if nothing had ever happened; life at court continued, you held some hunts and balls, and you oversaw the religious procession blessing the first sowing of the new year. With the spring would come the tenth birthday of your son and heir, Prince Dietrich. It would be a day of celebration at court, and a tournament was planned in his honour. And as he grew older, he began to show more of the man he would grow to be.>He will grow up to be resourceful and shrewd but cynical and ruthless.>He will grow up to be wise and patient but reserved and indolent.>He will grow up to be charismatic and intelligent but impulsive and reckless.
>>6358095>He will grow up to be wise and patient but reserved and indolent.
>>6358095>>He will grow up to be resourceful and shrewd but cynical and ruthless.Laziness far outweighs the negatives in any of the options, cynical and ruthless can at least have benefits if balance is retained.
>>6358095>He will grow up to be resourceful and shrewd but cynical and ruthless.
>>6358095>>He will grow up to be wise and patient but reserved and indolent.
Rolled 1 (1d2)1: wise and patient but reserved and indolent.2: resourceful and shrewd but cynical and ruthless.
The crown prince is an able boy, wise in his words, and with an exemplary patience for all his youthful peers. Yet he combines this with a reserved, if not downright aloof, demeanour to all around him as well; his indolence is some concern to you as well. He seems more the type to wait for things to happen rather than take the initiative. You wonder what that would mean for his reign.In terms of his future, you could predict one thing: unless something happened to her, he would be wed to the Princess Astrid Eriksdottir of Svengalia. The two of them had already met once, and being children, it didn't extend to much more than some playtime and friendly conversations. Still, it was an alliance you held onto dearly; it was part of a diplomatic arrangement to keep the Armentic Isles in the hands of Greifswald, and there was opportunity for more. Svengalia, being an elective monarchy, is where the free men elect their kings. In theory, a son born from their marriage could claim the throne, but you strongly doubted that they would get elected.And so the years dragged on; there were times when the world just seemed to go on without anything happening. One by one, your other daughters were betrothed and wedded off, all to the most high and prominent royalty of the region; of that you made sure. Sophia had taken a break from her magical studies when she bore her first child, a boy she named Albrecht, whom you came to visit in the cradle quite often.But there was one thing, aside from the usual headaches the monarchy had given you. And that was you, son. Fourteen by now, and still as wise and patient as ever, and just as indolent and reserved as ever, he never seemed to speak with anyone in court, and his squiredom seemed to be there more for ceremony than for actual training.You went into his room one morning, where you found him lazing about with a book of philosophy in his hand, not even bothering to get out of bed. He greeted you with a yawn and a casual wave of his hand. "Ah, Father, would you care to discuss the treatises upon the nature of reality that I am currently engrossed in?" He asked in his usual scholarly tone. "No, I came to enquire as to why you didn't show up for the procession of St Chrysalus; such matters are not to be spurned lightly.'' You announced sternly. "Must I now? Nowhere in the Greifswalder law does it state that you are required to attend such processions, and canon law only holds that you should attend mass, and my time is much better spent elsewhere, away from those, well, you know." You narrowed your eyes at this.
>>6358551> "Pack your things; we're going hunting." That should teach him a thing or two about initiative.>"When I was your age, I travelled the realm, so get up; I expect you to learn a thing or two about the people you are to rule over.">"I want you to spend some time in the monastery of the abbey of St Madalgar." The discipline of monastic life will shape him up.>It is no use; I can only hope his qualities outshine his flaws.
>>6358551
>>6358552>"When I was your age, I travelled the realm, so get up; I expect you to learn a thing or two about the people you are to rule over."
>>6358552>"I want you to spend some time in the monastery of the abbey of St Madalgar." The discipline of monastic life will shape him up.He won't be like Albrecht, and that's alright... Instead he should become medieval holy batman and learn Tibetan monk techniques... or just learn to be disciplined and diligent I guess.
Rolled 2 (1d2)1: Monastic life2: Hit the road
"When I was your age, I travelled the realm, so get up; I expect you to learn a thing or two about the people you are to rule over." You harshly looked him in the eye as he haggardly got up. "Your hands are soft, and your arms are getting fat. You are my son, and though I love you for who you are, the realm needs men with a clear sense of direction at the helm, not indolent boys whose attention shifts from one book to the other while his advisors govern on his behalf." You saw him stand; normally, Prince Dietrich was the face of serene aloofness, but this fatherly command did provoke some animated responses from him. "You can't mean it," He stammered, as reluctant to leave behind his life of comfort as ever. "You mean to send me off, alone, to travel about exposed to the elements, and do what? Galavant, as a knight, finds the Holy Grail. What do you expect of me, Father? To die in a ditch? to be exactly like you? I don't want to, and you can't persuade me to." He nearly yelled; it had been a while since he had been so agitated. "Not exactly alone. I will transfer your squiredom to one of the knights of the Order of the Argent Swan. Five of their number will keep you safe from any harm in the realm, and their squires will accompany their masters as well, so there are enough peers for you to fraternise with. You could make do with some friends, I believe." He looked you directly in the eye but slumped his head in defeat. "You will be given a horse, armour, and the usual equipment; you will leave on the coming morrow." You left without saying a word, he didn't turn up for dinner, and after his mother had spoken to him, she didn't speak with you for the rest of the evening as well.Yet come the morning, she did approach as you watched him mount his horse, and she looked at you with a sense of understanding in her eyes. "Beloved, were you certain this was the right call?" She asked. "I do; he has been too sheltered for his own good, and now, he should go out and see something of his inheritance. And I have just the man to keep him on the right path." You replied. >Friedhelm von Grauenberg, a dour and silent man, but an able knight and a superb lancer>Wolfram von Löwenstein, a charismatic and skilled swordsman, light-hearted and witty>Arnt von Hohmessingburg, a wise and experienced warrior with a strong sense of honour and duty.
>>6358845>Wolfram von Löwenstein, a charismatic and skilled swordsman, light-hearted and witty
>>6358845>>Arnt von Hohmessingburg, a wise and experienced warrior with a strong sense of honour and duty.Turning out to be a useless shit so far, as I expected.
>>6358845>Arnt von Hohmessingburg, a wise and experienced warrior with a strong sense of honour and duty.Teach the brat the call of duty
Arnt von Hohmessingburg was a man about three years your junior, from one of the great northern aristocratic families. He had served with you on campaigns in Mozolavia and the Armentic Isles, and, at present, he was without squires, the perfect opportunity to get that youngster on the road, so you thought to yourself. You had made the arrangements beforehand, so he would await his new squire in the stables, as was agreed upon. From there, he would perform an errantry; as an uncle to the present viscount of Hohmessingburg, he was free to stretch his legs, and you had given him liberty to wander around the kingdom to whatever destination he wished to see.Of course, it remained to be seen whether the prince and the knight could actually get along You were furious; how could you not be? Your own father, the King of Greifswald, has effectively kicked you out of your home, so you can spend your time doing what? Wander about in the mud and rain, murdering whatever bandits the forest rangers didn't mop up?Was he trying to get rid of you? In spite of him naming you after his own father, you never quite got the idea you were the favourite. Even as his only son, Sophia always seemed to be the one who got all the attention, your ever-perfect mage-princess of a sister, who has seen more battles than you have ever seen and who has been made privy to far more state secrets than you.Then again, you wonder how much that came down to your age and not due to favouritism; you were only a wee lad of fourteen, and perhaps your resentment against the two is overblown. Your bitterness against being forced into a sort of internal exile, however, was not. With a weary sigh, you went to the stables. You had already been helped into your travel garb for the day, and a servant would transport your actual armour along with some other belongings with you. As you went over to take the horse assigned to you by the reins, you were approached from the back. As you turned around, the ice-cold eyes of Arnt von Hohmessingburg locked with those of yours, and you felt yourself freezing in place.You had seen him before in the lists and in court. Wise and able, with a lot of experience, which he combined with polite curtness and near obstinate determination. "Your highness, his majesty the king has seen fit to assign you to me as my squire. I am Arnt von Hohmessingburg, if you didn't know." He looked you up and down, measuring you with a critical gaze. "I will keep this short; you aren't physically fit; thus, I will institute a training regime to whip you into shape." "Tell me," He continued. "You do at the very least know how to ride and how to hold the most basic of weapons?" ''Yes'' You answered. "Good, technique is harder to lose than muscle. Mount up; I want to make for the village of Schwarzfalke by nightfall." "Why, what's there?" You asked.
>>6359241 "That isn't for you to now, perhaps you can find out, enough talk, let's go." And he walked out of the stables.Outside, four other proper knights and their squires were waiting as well; aside from servants, it made your party number ten men. You put one of your legs into the stirrup and tried not to fall off as you mounted the horse. While you did know how to ride a horse, it had been a while since you had properly ridden, and you had a feeling it was about to come back to bite you.Good heavens, it hurts. While you had been able to keep yourself from falling off, your muscles felt sore, and the constant shaking the horse made you do made you feel nauseous. You could have sworn one of those types kept pricking your horse to prevent you from slowing down. Yet you made it to Schwarzfalke, where you ate dinner at the local inn and hired chambers for the night. It being summer, it would be a while before nightfall, which would mean you would have some hours to read that new book you had your valet smuggle with you, but as you made it to the stairs, Hohmessingburg blocked your path. "Where do you think you're going?" He asked, arms crossed. "Upstairs," you said, trying to find a way to get around the man.He laughed. "Oh, I don't think so. The sun is yet to go down, and it isn't raining. Grab your gear; we're training." You found yourself protesting, but you knew you couldn't object. You went outside, awaiting whatever horrid fate this drillmaster would impose on you.>Running in full armour, with packing>Training with horse and lance>Sparring with other squires>Swimming in the nearby river
>>6359244>Swimming in the nearby river
>>6359244>>Running in full armour, with packingA real workout to trim the fat.
>>6359244>>Running in full armour, with packing
Rolled 2 (1d2)1: Swimming2: Running in armour
"Put on your armour." The green tabard fluttered in the wind as you put on your own armour, for what you didn't know. Though Hohmessingburg was talking with the innkeeper for some reason, who gave him a leather backpack, which he then made you put on, the weight of the bag felt strenuous against your spine, though you feared what was to come next. "This pack is filled with flasks of water." Hohmessingburg explained. "Now, I want you to run from one end of the village to the other and back again until either the sun sets or you are exhausted." You didn't go, you didn't want to go, and you wouldn't go; he could threaten or strike you as much as he wanted, but you wouldn't go.He looked at you and said "Aren't you going?" "No, no, I won't!" You yelled, though you quickly regretted it, for he took a step towards you. You tensed yourself for what you feared would come, but it didn't.His lip curled into a thin smile. "I won't strike you; your a bit too old for corporal punishment. But you will go, and you will run, or else I might decide to have you walk for the rest of the journey." There was no mocking tone to his voice, but you could have sworn he was cracking up on the inside. And walking like some mud-eating peasant didn't appeal to you either; you would do it and hope you made it out intact.>Medium diffucly of 60 DC>Unfit -15>DC: 45 To see whether young Prince Dietrich can run in full armour, roll a 1d100 [DC45]. The more success, the quicker he will come back into shape.
Rolled 87 (1d100)>>6359515
Rolled 91 (1d100)>>6359515Should've make him run with no armor first
not surprised that a fourteen year old kid who is untrained and whose body lacks conditioning gets injured being forced to do something meant for a fully grown man.
Rolled 44 (1d100)>>6359515This Prince is super soft.
>>6359527He'll be born again hard, because he needs it, because the realm needs him to be.Some soft handed fatbody will do no favors unto himself, nor the people he is meant to rule over.
>>6359689Forgot pic
You start running, slowly at first, to see if you still got, piece by piece you start to pick up speed, from one end of the village, where the inn stands, to the smithy on the other end of town, and back again. You feel yourself quicklly tiring out, the fat on your body jiggling in the armour. Sweat begins to trickle down your face as you push yourself to keep going, the weight of your armor becoming more labourous with each step. To your credit, you manage to do about three laps, before your knees give out in front of the inn, and you nearly colappse, packing and all. Though Hohmessingburg quickly makes you stand up again. "That's enough for today; the hours are getting here, and I don't believe you need to push yourself any further. Come, I paid the innkeeper to prepare the bath; take it and then go to bed. I want to leave early." The first step has been taken, the malus has decreased from -15 to -10 After the bath, which was warm and quite refreshing, you immediately went to bed; your rest was interrupted by the constant coughing fits your running had brought down upon you. But your exhaustion was greater than your discomfort. The following day, you got up early; you had learnt your lesson now. There would be no more comfort, not for as long as you remained under the squiredom of Hohmessingburg, an arrangement which made you groan with dismay. "Now then, good morning to you all." Hohmessingburg said as he came down, stairs creaking, and joined the rest of the early risers for a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bread. It was a quiet affair; not many spoke. Most of your peer squires didn't speak up, the knights were more focused on their morning meal than conversation, and yet you couldn't help but ask Hohmessing something. "Sir, when I asked you where we were going, you said something along the lines of that it was for me to find out, and I am certain that Schwarzfalke inst it." "You got that right." He emptied a mug of milk. "Because of the nature of your squiredom, your father has asked me to travel around with you, which we shall. I want to continue south through the great forest, to Ulrichsburg; your pappy asked me to look into something there." >Might I know what?>Please don't call my father pappy; I don't do it, and neither should you.>Isn't this a bit too public a setting to discuss such matters?>All right, I understand.>Write-in.
>>6360023>Isn't this a bit too public a setting to discuss such matters?
>>6360023>Please don't call my father pappy; I don't do it, and neither should you.Kinda disrespectful.
>>6360023>>Isn't this a bit too public a setting to discuss such matters?
>>6360023Write-in: I’ll defer to your judgment sir, still, I doubt the matter sent upon by my father is a discussion meant to be had in public?Dietrich is clearly a momma's boy, he must know atleast a little mithradian eloquence.
>>6360140>>Write-in: I’ll defer to your judgment sir, still, I doubt the matter sent upon by my father is a discussion meant to be had in public?Sowwy
"Isn't this a bit too public a setting to discuss such matters?" Hohmessingburg simply smiled and said "Probably, but the risk of anything getting out is very small." "Why? Anyone in this tavern could be a spy." You asked. "Take a look around; we're still in the middle of the kingdom. I didn't talk all that loud, nor did I actually speak about what I was going to do in Ulrichsburg; besides, the room is nearly empty, and the innkeeper is on the other side of the chamber." You looked around; indeed, most of the ground floor, where the guests would eat, was still empty. The innkeeper was there, but he and his wife were busy cleaning mugs and preparing the tablecloths and tableware.Not soon after finishing breakfast, Hohmessingburg paid the innkeeper and left the inn with the rest of you down south, towards Ulrichsburg.Soon the landscape changed once more, as you began to cross into the edge of the great forest. The blooming canopy gave shelter from the sometimes suffocating summer heat, where the cool shade provided a welcome relief. The sounds of wildlife and rustling leaves filled the air, fair songbirds chirped, and from afar, you saw the wildlife prancing about.You crossed over a small wooden bridge over a creek; its small frame was simple and rustic. Above it, the branches reached out and, from over the river, tried to connect with each other, like two star-crossed lovers, never to meet.As the day dragged on, and the horses and men both tired out, the decision was made to make camp upon a treeless hillock. Hohmessingburg ordered you to set up both your and his tents and to then help the others with gathering stones and firewood for the campfire.You managed to get the tents up, in spite of nearly being caught in the cloth, and you were then teamed up with another squire, Luthor von Bichelbach, to gather firewood for the campfire. He was about the opposite of you, while you had inherited your father's blonde hair and your mother's dark eyes. Luthor had dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Regardless, the two of you did get along. "You know what they say about these woods," he said as you picked up some more dry branches. "Oh, I know, but those wards usually don't work, and besides, we have made peace with the fae; my father tells me so." You said. "That I know as well, you know," he said, motioning you to come closer. "There were rumours that your father had been bewitched when the treaty became public knowledge, though they died down with that battle a few years back." He paused. "Ah, yes, well, I haven't met any of them, so I wouldn't be able to tell you anything about them; perhaps my sister would know." You reluctantly said. "Hah, your sister makes the lords nervous; a mage is a rare thing. One among the royalty usually makes half of them piss themselves." He nonchalantly said.
"What's that supposed to mean?" You were tired of people constantly praising your sister's abilities she was simply born with. "It means she holds power that many fear and envy," he replied, shrugging. "So try not to die, or we'll all hide under the cupboards." You frowned at that comment but decided to let it go; you had a campfire to build after all. That night, you were called up for the watch; you could choose either the early watch or the late watch. The sun wasn't setting yet, and it would begin within the hour, so you chose.>The early watch>The late watch
>>6360454>The early watch
>>6360454>>The early watch
>>6360454>The late watchWake up early.
You settled for the early watch, as the sun set and the campfire continued to crackle with mirth, though you weren't able to enjoy it in full, for you found yourself on the edge of the camp, looking into the dark forest where not a light save the scant fireflies and the distant twinkling of stars illuminated the shadows. The night air was filled with the hooing of owls and the occasional rustling of unseen creatures. You knew better than to go after them, for that would mean abandoning your post.The hours dragged on, and as more and more of the knights retired to their tents and midnight approached, you were called back to change the guard. Before you knew it, you found yourself on the ground, separated only by a thin bedroll from the cold, hard earth. It was a far cry from the feather-stuffed bed you had back home, but you knew you weren't in a position to complain.If you did that, you would probaly walk the rest of the day as punishment. The thought alone made your feet ache. No, you would act the model squire; if that kept you from the shitlist, then you would do that, even if it meant sacrificing your own comfort.Your knight and his companions travelled southward through the forest; every evening you would be made to spar against one of the other squires. It went poorly at first, your unfit physique dragging you down. There was some small improvement; you managed to block or parry more often rather than absorbing the blow of the wooden sword. But still, the soreness in your muscles persisted, a constant reminder of your inadequacy.As you left the great forest for the sparser southern plains, the landscape changed once more; Greifswald was dominated by the woods, and even among the cleared fields and pastures, trees still dotted the horizon. The emmer and flax were ripening; with autumn, the scythes and sickles would be pulled from the sheds, and the harvest would begin.In sight, the great fortress of the Ulrichsburg stood alone, elevated above the surrounding andscape, more because the land was lower on purpose than because of any natural elevation. The imposing structure loomed in the distance, and the two smaller towers which guarded the sluices with which the area could be flooded in times of war added to its formidable appearance. Once this was the stronghold of the order, an impenetrable headquarters from where the grandmaster coordinated the crusade against the pagans; with the end of the order state and the rise of the Adlershorst, it had been reduced in importance, but it was still maintained; the gates were open, as they usually were in times of peace, and the commander of the garrison welcomed the crown prince in person.Still, when you were alone with Hohmessingburg, he once more talked to you in private. "Now listen; I need to do something of the highest secrecy. Enjoy yourself here, but this is something only a few men can be privy to, and the less men know, the better."
>>6360833>Insist on joining him>Practice a bit in the training fields.>Go to the library and archives>Enjoy the temporary return of status
>>6360833>Enjoy the temporary return of status
>>6360833>>Go to the library and archivesMaybe we can find some info on the Teubelsfeuer the Greek fire they used on the northern crusade
>>6360833>>Practice a bit in the training fields.
>>6360833>Go to the library and archives.Books.
Ulrichsburg held within its centre one of the largest libraries in the whole of Greifswald. In terms of raw books and records, it had few equals; only the libraries of the Elven princes on the isle would probably surpass it, and while your sister had probably assembled a library of some of the most valuable and rare tomes and treatises, in terms of raw quantity, Ulrichsburg reigned supreme.The brick castle was large, and the library was on the ground floor; the crypt underneath was where the archives were located, from the time of the Crusades, perhaps even from the time when the Order of the Argent Star was first founded.The room itself was divided in two, with a reading table in the middle and the bookcases on either side, with there being plenty of room for the windows to shine their lights in, reducing the need for candles. The ceiling was vaulted, and the walls were plastered white on the upper parts and panelled with birch wood on the lower part. You walked in over the carpet and, though you had missed him when you were standing in the doorpost, went over to the librarian, who was writing something behind his desk. In his hand he held a copper frame with a piece of glass in it, which he seemed to use for writing. He slowly raised his head, and greeted you. "Is there something I can help you with, your highness, or do you want to simply have a look around?" "Uh, what types of books do you keep here?" He gave you a pointed look before responding, "A bit of this and a bit of that, no fiction; this isn't some kind of fairy tale library. We have historical texts, scientific treatises, biographies, and other such useful knowledge. Is there a specific subject you are interested in?" >Alchemy>The history of the old Order>Lost artefacts>The ancient Isidorian Empire>The sciences
>>6361226>The sciences
>>6361226>The sciencesA fine counterpoint.
>>6361226>>Lost artefacts
>>6361226>The history of the old Order
>>6361226>>Alchemy
"The sciences, you say? The bookcases are on your right, to the windows, from the fourth shelf to the sixth. Do try to be careful with these books; some of them need to be rebound and are rather fragile." The librarian went back to writing as if you had never been there.And so you went over to find what exactly? While you did have some rudimentary knowledge about the sciences. Your brother-in-law Ludwig had allowed you to borrow many a book from his personal collection. But you weren't university educated. No, you got all your knowledge from court tutors; basic arithmetic, diplomacy, and eloquence in Tauten, Aurunican, and Mithradian were your prime subjects of education. And then there was the other stuff, aside from riding and the basics in armed combat, though you were rather rusty, and the dancing, always the damned dancing, and all because your grandfather had less grace than a cow jumping on a glass plate.Nevertheless, you did pass the books with some interest; all the great sciences were there. Astronomy, medicine, and even philosophy. Even some works about optics and physics, though upon opening them you found that they held too much complexity for your taste. You should probably start with a primer if you wish to understand what those people were babbling on about.But you would know, if your sister knew all there was to know about the arcane, then you would master the mundane; you wouldn't be a scholar, that would take away from your other duties, but you would be an erudite. You would follow in the footsteps of Saint Reynold, the wise warrior-scholar, inventor of the trebuchet and holy defender of knowledge. And so you reached out to shelves and picked.>Astronomy>Medicine>Physics>A bestiary (biology)>Philosophy
>>6361585>Medicine
