In the Name of the King (Medieval, IC)

[Albertae]

Sir Wilfred, not knowing whether it was more prudent to return to the barracks or remain at the manor, ready to depart, sat on the foyer's floor, leaning against the wall. He had removed his cuirass, and was polishing it vigorously to remove the blood from the day's earlier proceedings with a damp linen. He couldn't stand blood, abhorred it, resented the memories of his days as a vanguard that it brought to mind. The rest of his armor was, noticeably, blood free- he kept it this way, but left the dents and scratches, believing those to be reminders of what he has fought to preserve: his life, the life of his countrymen, and the life of his King.

Gared walked out to th foyer after sending his letter off and washed up saw Wilfred sitting on the floor. He asked,"Wilfred. What are you doing sitting there? Come inside for dinner, I've already had a room readied for you." He looked at Wilfred in a fatherly fashion saying,"Wilfred, I've known you for such a short time, but I look at you and see a more magnificent version of me. You are like a son to me, so never think you are not welcome in my home." He motioned for him to come.

[Boergandina]

Gared walked out to the foyer after sending his letter off and washed up saw Wilfred sitting on the floor. He asked,"Wilfred. What are you doing sitting there? Come inside for dinner, I've already had a room readied for you." He looked at Wilfred in a fatherly fashion saying,"Wilfred, I've known you for such a short time, but I look at you and see a more magnificent version of me. You are like a son to me, so never think you are not welcome in my home." He motioned for him to come.

"... Right, that's a little much, don't you think? My parents are still alive, you know. I'm not in need of a patriarch!" He rose to his feet, laughing, strapping on his cuirass and his baldric over it. "Now, on the topic of lodging- I trust you've got a camp bed, or some hay? That'll do fine, for me. Nothing quite will top sleeping in some soft mud at the resolution to a good siege! As for a meal- I trust you've got more cabbage? Boiled cabbage and pork." He marched into the dining room and waited for Gared to take a seat.

[Albertae]

Gared walked out to the foyer after sending his letter off and washed up saw Wilfred sitting on the floor. He asked,"Wilfred. What are you doing sitting there? Come inside for dinner, I've already had a room readied for you." He looked at Wilfred in a fatherly fashion saying,"Wilfred, I've known you for such a short time, but I look at you and see a more magnificent version of me. You are like a son to me, so never think you are not welcome in my home." He motioned for him to come.

"... Right, that's a little much, don't you think? My parents are still alive, you know. I'm not in need of a patriarch!" He rose to his feet, laughing, strapping on his cuirass and his baldric over it. "Now, on the topic of lodging- I trust you've got a camp bed, or some hay? That'll do fine, for me. Nothing quite will top sleeping in some soft mud at the resolution to a good siege! As for a meal- I trust you've got more cabbage? Boiled cabbage and pork." He marched into the dining room and waited for Gared to take a seat.

I went in after him and said,"Wilfred, you will sleep on the bed in the guest room, trust me you'll need the support. As for food, I've had a luxurious dinner prepared for it will be the last for a long time." Gared then sat and waited for Wilfred to sit.

[Boergandina]

I went in after him and said,"Wilfred, you will sleep on the bed in the guest room, trust me you'll need the support. As for food, I've had a luxurious dinner prepared for it will be the last for a long time." Gared then sat and waited for Wilfred to sit.

He pulled his seat back and lowered himself into it, the wood creaking. "Sleep's sleep and food's food. Can't afford to be picky. We're traveling by sea, right? There's plenty of ocean food if you've got the patience for it, if the wind's calm and we aren't going anywhere fast." He leaned forward. "Ya ever eat a... turtle? It's like sweet and salty chicken!" He tilted his head back, laughing genially.

[Laurvier]

En Route to Dragonfall

A commotion occurred as the cabin door open on the ship to the top deck. Out came a wailing woman, bloodied and bruised with two of Ander's sellswords dressed in black brigandines holding her arms. Anders himself turned at the sound to watch. The burly brutes dragged her over to the side of the ship. One callously cut her throat and threw her corpse overboard. Alaric Calvely exited the cabin shortly after, shirtless and with a satisfied grin on this face. Anders laughed in response.

"You seem pleased with yourself brother." Anders called out.

"Indeed I am." He replied and together they went to the bow of the ship.

Ahead on the horizon lay the city of Dragonfall. They were riding on a Calvely treasure galleon. One that carefully moved vast amounts of wealth around the kingdom for their banking enterprise. The capital for one of these ships was a common destination. Below decks the ship carried several chests of gold and silver to stand ready to be loaned to the royal treasury should it be needed which it often was. Otherwise, the Calvely's would find merchants or other lords. There was always someone who needed more money.

"Unfortunate for me isn't it?" Alaric mused.

"Why so?" Anders asked.

"I'll have to behave from here on out." He said, displeased that he would have to suppress his urges while in the capital.

[Albertae]

2 weeks later...

Seat of House Laughis

The men had been marching for a whole week until they reached river that would take them to the seat of House Laughis. They were a day behind, because Gared had commissioned two-thousand five hundred pelts to be purchased for the soldiers which just made them move more quickly knowing they had some sort of warmth. They after the first week boarded cogs and moved down the river to the seat of House Laughis. Now they are getting off the cogs and onto the docks to go the Laughis Throne and tell them of the King's royal decree.

Gared looked to Wilfred and said,"Are you ready?" He then looked backs the army and remembered olden days when he'd lead numerous men in large armies for the king and his father. He was the King's Man and he would carry out the King's decrees one way or another.

[Partially Blind People]

En Route to Dragonfall

A commotion occurred as the cabin door open on the ship to the top deck. Out came a wailing woman, bloodied and bruised with two of Ander's sellswords dressed in black brigandines holding her arms. Anders himself turned at the sound to watch. The burly brutes dragged her over to the side of the ship. One callously cut her throat and threw her corpse overboard. Alaric Calvely exited the cabin shortly after, shirtless and with a satisfied grin on this face. Anders laughed in response.

"You seem pleased with yourself brother." Anders called out.

"Indeed I am." He replied and together they went to the bow of the ship.

Ahead on the horizon lay the city of Dragonfall. They were riding on a Calvely treasure galleon. One that carefully moved vast amounts of wealth around the kingdom for their banking enterprise. The capital for one of these ships was a common destination. Below decks the ship carried several chests of gold and silver to stand ready to be loaned to the royal treasury should it be needed which it often was. Otherwise, the Calvely's would find merchants or other lords. There was always someone who needed more money.

"Unfortunate for me isn't it?" Alaric mused.

"Why so?" Anders asked.

"I'll have to behave from here on out." He said, displeased that he would have to suppress his urges while in the capital.

Henry stood, as he had done for every morning for the trip, on the top deck gazing across the horizon. The cool morning air swept across the sea bringing with it the salt and mist of the sea. The water sprayed across his brow but he didn't flinch, he found it relaxing, it focused him on the task ahead. The journey, far from being the relaxing aboard a prized vessel of the wealthy Calvelys, had been much of a nightmare. Henry was callous and he knew it, the deaths of the women and the servants failed to elicit much empathy from him, but the sadism seemed frankly excessive. The screams permeated the vessel every night and even extended into the day on occasions and he seemed to be the only person on the ship, except perhaps those being tortured, who found it out of the ordinary. He mostly passed the time doing what he could to practise his fighting, although the swaying of the ship made that a challenge. He would have put his reading to the test, but for the sake of his dignity he refused to struggle in front of a Calvely, nevermind Alaric and Anders.

His focus was broken as a screaming woman was dragged out onto the deck, unceremoniously killed and then thrown overboard like diseased livestock. Alaric emerged shortly afterwards. Henry sighed as the knight was yet again shirtless, it seemed that some never outgrew their youthful braggart stage, although he mused whether he had simply grown old too early. Anders greeted Alaric and they walked together, past Henry, towards the bow of the ship. He sighed as they passed. They'd made the trip an incredible bore thus far. Alaric was seemingly constantly shirtless, so caught up in his own physical looks that he felt the need to display himself at all times whilst his antics with the maidens served only to infuriate Henry. Anders was worse. Whereas Alaric had his quirks, even if they were obnoxious ones, Anders didn't seem to have a personality. The man did nothing but fight, drink, whore and bend over for Alaric. It wasn't as though he was limited by his circumstances like Henry, he had access to the most wealth in the land yet he lived his life like the common mercenary.

Henry turned away from the sea to face the pair as they talked. His shoulders sank as he sighed, he hadn't so much as smiled for days now. He thought of Arthur, stuck in Coilington, but resigned himself to the fact that he was most likely the lucky one. The brothers hadn't been separated for more than a few hours for the past decade. Arthur had become the one person that Henry probably truly cared about, the rest had been killed and all others mattered little more than animals to him. They drank together, they fought together, they depended on each other like none other had to; if there was someone in the world that Henry could call a friend, it was Arthur.

He looked towards the pair again. It would be a long journey.

[United Human Planets]

Tyrus, and 30 of his men rode down the steep mountains, where Highmount Hold, the castle of the Willuns rested. They were departing for the hold of Great Lord Gared, the warden of the lands that Northburough resided. They were old friends, and Tyrus was the Great Lords stregion, in charge of the strategy's in times of war. There was no particular reason as to why Tyrus had chosen to do this, he merely wished to get away from all of the political drama of court. His wife was more than capable of handling the castle in his absence, she had done it many times before.

As he and his men descended the mountain, a light snow started to fall, and the chain mail he wore under his clothing was starting to sting his skin with the cold. He ignored it though, he was wearing plenty of clothing, and while the cold was uncomfortable, he knew that it was little more that a distraction. The day was windy, and Tyrus's cloak swirled out to his side as he rode, giving him the look of some grand hero from ancient legends, though he would have detested being called one. All he had ever wanted was for his family, and the people on his family land to be safe, and comfortable, a feat which he had done incredibly well at. There was a long ride ahead of him, but in time, he would be farther south at Gareds holdings, where it was warm, and the wine was everywhere. He like wine, though he could rarely get any. There was far more ale and mead in Northburough.

No on talked as the small precesion rode, they all just kept their heads down to avoid the cold until they reached the warm lands to the south.

[Slakonian]

The Flayed Man's Redoubt
Highever, the Teyrnir of Bownammar Mountains
The Northern 'Wastes'

Teyrn Tihomir Vortigen

The suns gentle warmth made Bownammar look alive once again as trade once again had come from the lowlands to barter their goods with the Mountainmen. With them, they brought news or better say rumors of what is exactly happening around the kingdom to this tiny beacon of civilization surrounded by barbarism. To Tihomir it was no surprise that discontent once again rose amongst the lowlander barbarians, they hoped launching a pitiful rebellion that would surely break apart but this time it was no joke for there was still the threat of the exiled nobles across the sea.

In front of him stood his council, two of them were his most loyal bannermen and blood relatives: Baron Percival Kieran who came for a visit and Fergus Silver-Blood; second and last son of his uncle. On his right beside him sat Steward Oliver de Hyth, a loyal friend from a small Staunchlader house who served him across the channel and a mastermind in economics and politics. And as custom the Maester was here to provide 'council' as if the Teyrn needed his advice from that old goon.

His steward decided to break the silence, "It seems that the Lord Admiral apparently gone crazy during a royal council summit. Moving around circles and saying gibberish things about the 'formidably' of the Royal Navy, ignoring the rest of the council-members pleas that it is not so while refusing to sell the fleet so settle the debit.."

"So it's true, the Crown is drowned on debt?" cut in the Baron.

"It seems so, the traders are many different areas but all are persistent to this. Of course it was known before that there was some mismanagement but even my connections south hadn't foreseen how dire the situation is." the Steward seemed troubled, by the revelation. A kingdom in debt surely soonder or later will descend on civil war for various reasons, from opportunists who would be willing to seize the throne or secede to angry nobles and peseants rebelling against further taxes and even exiled lords with support from money lenders but whatever the case, the danger was real.

"And it isn't just that." replied Fergus Silver-Blood. "It seems that the our islander 'cousins' have raised the issue of priests from the mainland are coming to convert them to their ways, they have even gone to the point at getting their ports shut and paying not the royal tithes."

Now that is shocking news the Teyrn thought, they need just a little oil into the fire... he must not be driven by thoughts not now that his council was in session. He did wonder where his natural daughter Eleana, she always sitted on his council providing wise insight but not today which was worrisome. "So" the lord begun, re-affirming his presence, "Do we know, who replaced the Lord Admiral over the fleets?" asked coldly the lord.

"That we do your excellency" hasted to answer the Steward, "It seems the council has turned out to be hereditary as his son has taken over..."

Tihomir didn't even bother letting the man finish, he frowned in dissaproval of the lowlander corruption that plagued as always the politics that affected the kingdom as a whole. It wasn't enough that a man insulted himself and his house by inviting a madman as his counselor but also having the man's son as a replacement. Fitting, it was just more shit on the bucket as there weren't enough problems, now lords would give themselves more excuses to push for discontent for allowing such an action to happen.

The council didn't convened for much longer, they addressed several troubles around Bownammar such as the increase of incursions between lowlander bandits while the lack of adequate miners on the Silver-Blood silver mines.

---

The Teyrn was walking down the hallway, the light illuminated its beauty while a small slow wind hit against his face. Where the hallway ended, it led him to the main courtyard where lush green beauty was mixed battlements that was used to train the Vortigen men-at-arms. His own son and heir was trained by old Karl, an old soldier who have been service to the house for three Vortigen generations. The man possesed a huge garish greybeard with a mutlitude of scars all over his body, despite his age he possesed a fearsome strength and some agility making him a fearsome soldier. The man was highly respected by Tihomir for both his monsterly built and his wisdom regarding military matters.

He smiled, watching his son sparring with the soldiers; he must familirize himself with them for one day he would be in command of them and no matter the origins he must respect that his status is not a right but a gift from the Earthmother whose Soultree was on the middle ever majestic and gigantic that made the men around look like dwarves.
"Where is your sister, where is Eleana.." asked the lord, he was about to find out some interesting insight.