File: Greifswald with the overs(...).png (941 KB, 2132x2480)

941 KB PNG

>>6341563
Nevertheless, 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 manhunting
Good to see you are back AdleQM

>>6341568
>Gather the men; we're going manhunting.

>>6341568
>>Gather the men; we're going manhunting.


Welcome back!

File: Hermann von Weitzenhof.png (1.77 MB, 1226x1437)

1.77 MB PNG

''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)

>>6341818
welcome 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.

>>6342296
You 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 burial mound

>>6342297
>>The old pagan temple

Ruins surrounding a tree, makes me lean towards a temple

>>6342297
>The hillfort
If 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 mound

I 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.

>>6343350
The 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.

>>6343361
Actually 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.

>>6343783
>>We should continue on and consult the nearest lord for nearby monasteries.

File: Count Moritz.png (235 KB, 1176x2048)

235 KB PNG

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 knows

It 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?

File: Have you ever heard about(...).png (198 KB, 1650x922)

198 KB PNG

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.

>>6345200
What I mean is, if he can actually produce good quality dyes in large amounts, some tariffs may not be unreasonable.

>>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.

>>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 search

2: 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?

>>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?

File: The Abbot.png (217 KB, 728x822)

217 KB PNG

"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.

>>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.

>>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.

>>6348226
under

Rolled 41 (1d100)

File: 1763690120725345.png (149 KB, 517x472)

149 KB PNG

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>6348125

File: monk with wine.jpg (63 KB, 685x900)

63 KB JPG

This is going to be fun with a capital F.

>>6348459
The 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 Stag

We may be in over our heads.

>>6348597
>We must march now; relief must come, and it must come now.

Speed.

File: Vierkreuzgang.png (314 KB, 1734x1131)

314 KB PNG

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

>>6348914
4Chan considers my empty roll posts spam all the time

Rolled 39 (1d100)

Dammit!

Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>6348914

Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>6348914

File: Vierkreuzgang-Deployment.png (371 KB, 1734x1131)

371 KB PNG

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 East
We 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 East
The forest will hide our true numbers and aid in making the enemy panic

>>6349731
>The East

File: Vierkreuzgang-Approach.png (319 KB, 1734x1131)

319 KB PNG

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]

>>6350287
>Take the safer approach, and try to move in a circle around the city. [Medium Risk: DC60]

>>6350287
>Take the safer approach, and try to move in a circle around the city. [Medium Risk: DC60]

File: Vierkreuzgang-Opening.png (327 KB, 1734x1131)

327 KB PNG

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

>>6350551
Oh yes, and a DC of 60, of course.

Rolled 72 (1d100)

>>6350551

Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>6350551

Rolled 72 (1d100)

>>6350551

File: Vierkreuzgang 1.png (331 KB, 1734x1131)

331 KB PNG

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

File: Vierkreuzgang 2.png (333 KB, 1734x1131)

333 KB PNG

"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

>>6351049
this
discretion being the better part of valor and all that

>>6351049
Support

>>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.

>>6351200
this is a very risky course of action - may be their army is ten times as big as what we are seeing here
we must stay mobile

>>6351039
>>Let us withdraw into the city so we can bundle forces with the watch and militia
Leaving now will damage the defenders morale

>>6351253
not if we send a message that we'll be back soon with a larger force
anyway 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?

>>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
>So this Narmamorë is rebelling against you?
>Are the fae truly that offended at our treaty?

>>6351598
>>Are the fae truly that offended at our treaty?

File: Round 2.png (366 KB, 1734x1131)

366 KB PNG

"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.