Birthright: Tuornen, Chapter Two

[ewancummins]

DEVLIN,CAER HAES


After signing the last of the notes, Devlin has a chance to relax for a few minutes...

The doors swing wide.

Two of Devlin's personal guard, marching with halberds held in both hands, escorts into the chamber a slender, straw-haired man dressed in foppish clothing and long doeskin riding boots.
The man pulls off his plumed hat and executes an exaggerated bow, followed by a series of baroque genuflections that might be more appropriate for the ancient court of the Roele Emperors than for even the high honor of appearing before a Duke of Tuornen.

Devlin notices a silver badge on the man's doublet, a knot of polished wire in the shape of a leaping dog.


The messenger addresses Devlin in a sweet voice, but with a slight smirk on his pockmarked face-
“Your Grace, I thank all the gods that I, Alver Sixstrings, Minstrel and Messenger Extraordinary, have been granted this signal chance to bask in the divine radiance of Tuornen’s noblest son. “

[JMaytr]

The name rings familiar to Devlin, maybe overheard in the court of Avan, but the Duke cannot place it.

"You may dispense with flattery Alvar Silverstrings. My men claim you have come to parley from Carilon Alam. Speak plainly."

[Varrus the Ethical]

Wiping the blood off his sword with a rag, Roald says. "We should make our way to Diemerel at once. There I'll see about getting a proper healer to tend to your wounds, Lady Dominica. But we should make haste. The truce is not likely to last much longer, and I mean to get to shelter before more fighting erupts again."

[ewancummins]

The name rings familiar to Devlin, maybe overheard in the court of Avan, but the Duke cannot place it.

"You may dispense with flattery Alvar Silverstrings. My men claim you have come to parley from Carilon Alam. Speak plainly."

Alver offers a smile with a faint sneer lurking at the edges.

"Indeed, Mighty Duke! Your Grace is known as a bluff, honest, hearty fellow-- even across the river. Thus it is that my illustrious master offers his beloved but wayward cousin--his words, not mine--a chance to settle the matter between the eastern and western halves of the great duchy that was sundered in the most unfortunate, tragic, and song-worthy 'War of Brothers.' I'm charged to speak plain, so here it is-- If you will accept Duke Carilon as your liege, he will accept you as his lieutenant and vassal—as Baron of the Western March. A slight change in styles, but you will still govern where your father held sway, and much innocent blood will be spared. "

[JMaytr]

Devlin stands up before his throne.

"You can take your master back the identical terms, but with he as my vassal of the eastern plain."

[ewancummins]

Devlin stands up before his throne.

"You can take your master back the identical terms, but with he as my vassal of the eastern plain."

Alver suppresses a squeal- maybe fear, maybe mirth.

"That is a delightful counter-proposal, Your Grace. My sagacious lord foresaw just such an offer. He has instructed me to inform you that a refusal of his kind, humane, and most generous terms will necessitate measures much less to his liking than the gentle arts of diplomacy. Is there a window here that faces ---"

He motions towards one of the shuttered windows.

"I think my master's next offer will be visible from there."

[JMaytr]

Devlin's jaw goes hard and he turns, walking toward the window The Rude Bard indicated.

"Stormlord help me, If he plans to break our truce with this new offer, it is the gods he will need mercy from."

[ewancummins]

Opening the window, Devlin can see Riverside, occupied by the enemy.


Aside from some damage to the shops, and the troops of enemy soldiers and river pirates roaming the dirt roads and boardwalks, it mostly looks the same as ever.

He was down there just the other night, bedding the fiery red-head in a cheap inn. The night they killed his father.

And then he spots the crude scaffold erected atop a flat roofed warehouse.
Seven figures stand on barrels lining the near edge of the roof. Their faces are uncovered but Devlin is too far away to make out their expressions. He can see the ropes running up from their necks to the beam overhead.
Men with spears and swords stand behind them, one behind each barrel.


Alver speaks-

"Your Grace is known to be a great friend to the small folk. Those miserable wretches were caught spying. By the laws of war, their lives are forfeit. Yes, even the women and children. They are the trickiest of all the spies. Duke Carilon proposes to begin hanging these treacherous rats one by one, should I tarry too long, or should your answer prove----unfortunate.”

[JMaytr]

"If your duke hangs any of the small folk during the cease fire, I will consider it a violation of the truce. And take this back as well, I employ no children as spies human or not, and if he goes through with such a heinous act the gods above will mark his dishonor and ensure my victory. I would have lived peacefully next door to that villain for the remainder of his life and mine and never breached Alam soil with invaders. Now, now I will not stop this war until I take that whole realm from his undeserving hands."

[ewancummins]

"If your duke hangs any of the small folk during the cease fire, I will consider it a violation of the truce. And take this back as well, I employ no children as spies human or not, and if he goes through with such a heinous act the gods above will mark his dishonor and ensure my victory. I would have lived peacefully next door to that villain for the remainder of his life and mine and never breached Alam soil with invaders. Now, now I will not stop this war until I take that whole realm from his undeserving hands."

Alver's smirk vanishes. He blanches.

'Ah...yes. I will carry your message to the duke. Do I have your leave to go now, Your Grace?"

[JMaytr]

"Go now Alvar Silverstrings you have my leave. I'd not tarry behind the walls of Haes too long, the noon hour doth approach."

[ewancummins]

"Go now Alvar Silverstrings you have my leave. I'd not tarry behind the walls of Haes too long, the noon hour doth approach."

This bard executes his parting bows with great haste and scurries out of the room like a frightened rat.

[ewancummins]

RENN, CITY WATCH HOUSE

The morning cease-fire has allowed Renn time to review civic defense.

The walls hold strong, save where the enemy fire demon and hell-engine wrecked the River Gate and a section of masonry.

Haes is short on trained and well- equipped fighting men, besides the Duke's personal guards and a single company of heavy horse, but the cobbled-together force at the north wall remains in good spirits.
Seregeant Gilly comes into his boss’ office.
“Commander, you really ought to take a little nap. You look slugged. Lie down a while. I’ve got Frod running the grease and tar hunt. He’s argued down all the laggards, and things are looking good. So please, sleep while you can. Noon’ll be here soon enough and then the fighting…”

[ewancummins]

FOERDE


When Foerde arrives at the Auld Oak, a dumpy woman he doesn’t recognize takes a long look at him and then rushes from the courtyard into the inn.


Gael, seated on the saddle just behind Foerde, reaches her right hand up to clasp his arm.

[RocEter]

He looks back at Gael and smiles. "It'll be alright Gael." He says helping down from his horse. "You go on inside and tell Master Brennan I will be in shortly."

Once she enters the inn, Foerde walks his horse to the stable.