Phaenix wrote:August, the Principality of Jorga
Prince Barnabus Keswick, the third of his house to hold the title "Prince of Jorga," looked out from the great Caelanian Walls that had guarded the Jorgan Pass since the days of High King Caelan Cùil at the horde the rebel Clark Tennesley had brought against him. Hundreds of brightly colored banners flapped in the wind, showing the coats-of-arms of the traitors who had turned against the Confederacy. Among the knights and their men-at-arms stood dark-skinned Noileaners, clad in colorful armor and as grim as death, and besides them rowdy Texarkans and Gulfmen clad in dusty leathers and scavenged steel. Fierce Gulf beastmen, those mad warriors who fight in suits resembling the demons and gods of the Northemerians, screeched and howled as if possessed. The King of the Gulf, Mickey XXV Waltsson stood laughing with a Texarkan Warcheef, the fearsome visage of the god Mickey of Mouse adorning his helmet. And though Clark's army consisted of barbarians and savages, it also held one of the brightest minds of the era; Herr Doktor Ulrich Wenzel. Ulrich, though advanced in years, was reputed to have discovered a way to use the rare substance guunpowdir, occasionally found in ancient Northemerian vaults, as a weapon. While the common workers built siege towers, trebuchets, battering rams, and ladders, Ulrich led a team of engineers in building a massive weapon, the Bieg Kannon. Barnabus scowled, and turned to his servant.
"Get me our best rider and our fastest horse. I've got a message for him to deliver to the Emperor."
The servant saluted and turned, while Barnabus began writing.To His Most Gracious Imperial Majesty, Long May He Reign, Emperor of the Holy South and Heir to the Northemerians, Maxwell of the Imperial House Rothschild, Second of that Name
From Barnabus of the House Keswick, Prince of Jorga and Protector of the Pass
My most gracious liege, I write with dire news. The traitor Clark Tennesley and his mongrel horde have reached the gates of August, but they will go no further. We will hold them back, and with the Grace of God we will send these heathen dogs back into their sandy hell. Yet I must urge you send assistance posthaste, as the traitors have Herr Doktor Ulrich Wenzel with them, and under his guidance have built a weapon of horrifying power, capable of throwing fiery death upon our walls. Nevertheless, I will not allow the bastards one inch of Jorgan land without sending ten of them to Hell!
Praise be to God and the Emperor!
When the servant returned with the rider, Barnabus handed him the note and the rider left. Looking across the field, Barnabus tightened his grip on his sword and scowled.Jacken, near Pervil
Screams filled the air as Darby Carlton, Cheef of the Lon'ghorns and Right Hand of King Beckett, watched his tribe ransack the city. Though no Noileans, Jacken was home to a prominent Merchant Guild, whose patricians now lay dead, surrounded by their guards. The Lon'ghorns were now riding up and down the alleys of Jacken, killing, raping, and looting, while Darby sat on a throne his raiders had dragged out of some merchant's mansion, picking the best loot and slaves for himself. One captives, a grizzled veteran, spat in the Cheef's face.
"You'll pay for this, you damn horse fecker! Duke Cain does not take kindly to raiders!"
Darby smiled, wiped the spit from his eye, and calmly slit the man's throat.
"Really, now? Well, I better be careful then. This Duke Cain sounds real dangerous!"
Darby than broke out laughing, along with his Kolonels and Jinerals. However, he did harbor a slight worry. His messenger had yet to return, and that could mean trouble. But the Cheef perished the thought and grabbed a tankard of ale and a bedslave, laughing and joking as people were murdered and a city burned.On the Road to Carß
The water and being jostled, along with the cold desert air, roused the Mexican. Looking around, he began speaking in his strange tongue.
"¿Que demonios? ¿Dónde estoy?"
Seeing that he was with humans, and not being eaten alive, the guard began to speak quickly.
"¡Humanas! ¡Debemos irnos, rápido! ¡Esas criaturas aún podrían estar aquí!"The Next Day, Jameston
The citizens of Jameston cheered and shouted as the might of the Confederate army marched out of the city. Knights in shining armor made up a good quarter of the 80,000 strong force, but the rest was a mix of men-at-arms in chainmail and armed with spears and swords, archers from Kentuck, and a company of Neuanglan mercenaries, armed with arbalests and pikes. At the front rode Duke Frederick, along with Marquis Régnault and Lord Gaylen II Tailier. Frederick smiled and waved while Régnault threw roses to the ladyfolk. Still smiling, Frederick handed the letter he had intercepted from Prince Barnabus to Gaylen.
"Here, boy. Good ol' Barnabus claims he can hold back Clark's hellish horde, but methinks we may need to hurry."
Lord Gaylen Tailier II
Gaylen took the letter from Hanover and, with one hand on the reigns of his horse, awkwardly unfolded the letter. He read it over several times to make sure he absorbed every word ere he formulated his reply.
"Indeed, we must make haste," he conceded. "I know not how long they will be able to hold off August, especially with the following that pickled whoreson has amassed. Does the Emperor know of this?" 'Twas a risky query to pose, but he was genuinely curious, and he highly suspected Hanover would lie. His uncle had relayed to him that night his observations during the session of the Diet, and they more or less confirmed what Gaylen had guessed. Duke-Elector Hanover held the real power.
The letter was genuine, Gaylen decided, meaning he now had more knowledge of the coming war. More knowledge meant he could gain better control. He prayed Micky the Mouse and Goofy the Goof would serve as guides as he led the vanguard, however long that period would be, and that if death befell him it would be in the name of victory. Already he was assessing the situation and planning possible formations of attack, but he knew he could not be certain until they approached the foe. The vanguard had the advantage of surprise on its side, and the imperial blessing for whatever that was worth, so surely Micky and Goofy would find their cause worthy. It was for the Empire they were marching forth. The black worms of treason writhed not in their hearts and spread as a plague throughout the lands. Innocents were not to be slaughtered by their lades, only traitors. Gaylen would make sure of that.
He handed the letter back to Hanover, who was riding with him despite having spared himself thus far from the most precarious position of command. Peculiar that Hanover studied him with hawk-like eyes as though he expected Gaylen to fail. His panic the afternoon before had been a brief lapse, a failure, but 'twas ultimately nothing more than the initial shock of hearing his own name emit from the mouth of Emperor Maxwell II; Gaylen would not let that happen again. He had seen war, had commanded troops before. He had killed. He knew exactly what was at stake, knew he would not lose because of his own misgivings. If he lost, 'twould be due to a judgment error or perhaps an underestimation of that sludge-hearted slug's strength. Personal emotions had no place in war.
"You did tell the Emperor, Duke Hanover, didn't you?" he reiterated in a reverent tone. He would not have Hanover think he disrespected authority.
