Alsatian Island
TNPer
- Pronouns
- he/his
- TNP Nation
- Alsatian Island
18 June, 1185
Langstead Burgh, the Earldom of Langstead
Mid-south Osynstry
The High Republic of Esthursia
"Bring the guests in, Walthor." Earl Baldar Hart told his marshal, floating his hand roughly across the stone-clad room to the doors into Langstead Burgh. The marshal, sprite for a seventy-something man, walked himself over to the doors and pulled them open, revealing the sight of the Earl of Asgar, Leofric Sellin, dismounting with the rest of his guards who had accompanied him on the journey south across earldoms.
The marshal welcomed the rather stout Leofric into the halls, flanked by his Earlguards, Tollack and Lars. Leofric was a touch younger than Baldar, yet looked infinitely more weathered than forty, scarred by his time in the war on Helvellyn ten years prior - his sleeve hung limp from his left arm, a stump hidden where his wrist should be. His grey-speckled beard covered up a doubled chin somewhat inadequately. Earl Sellin, nonetheless, marched his way up to Baldar, unperturbed by the amount of guards surrounding the entrance.
"I've come a long way for this, Baldar," Leofric began, wearily, "this had better be worth my travels." Earl Sellin's voice was somewhat raspy, but far more than loud enough to make it clear to hear every sound that left his mouth.
Baldar smiled at his old friend. "It will." He walked Leofric into the great hall, and floated his hand again, this time to a few chairs nearest to the door.
"I'll sit down when you tell me something worth my stay."
"The Chancellor has told my earldom to seize old Eadgar's ward, Bernhard, and hand him over. They want him disappeared, gone, locked up." Baldar said, grimly. "He came himself down with his deemers, what a jolly bunch of bores. But his presence in these parts means Chancellor Hereward has reason to believe the boy is down here somewhere."
"Yes, I am fully to grips with Hereward's insistence on information before movement. It's why I lost my fucking hand at Strackway when the Helmarkers seized me and learnt my identity. Don't charge into nothing, Hereward had insisted." Leofric bitterly recanted, taking a moment to look solemnly and mourn his stump. Before Strackway, Earl Leofric had been one of the finest knights that the High Republic had, and one of the most loyal too - an idealist, a reformer, everything that embodied Hereward's loyal men. Afterwards, he had aged beyond his years, gained weight and even lost some of his edge, but the most abrupt change was that of his beliefs. Hereward had even received Leofric's hand the week after, and yet a following three weeks passed until the Chancellor's men finally pushed far enough to pressure the Helmarkers to give him up more favourably - and Leofric's knowledge that he had effectively been the instrument of an extortion, for a slightly better deal, had crushed his opinion of the new High Republic. "What makes him think the bastard's lurking down here? Is he getting that paranoid?"
"Possibly. Bernhard's the last of Eadgar's house worth mentioning, and he's now old enough to hold a sword. That's enough for any overlord, or chancellor, to quake - he's a potential pretender."
"And what in the blazing hell does this have to do with me?" Leofric probed, slamming his only hand hard on the table. "This is fascinating and all, but I don't see what-"
"If you would let me finish." Baldar hissed, quietly, leaning forward just enough to make Leofric - a man twice his size - uncomfortable. "Well, you share my opinions on Hereward."
"The bastard's a coward and a weasel who dares tell me not to kill my criminals because it goes against his so-called philosophy, aye, a poor man who thinks it right to give the so-called rights of the serfs away from their rightful possessors." A groan that was unmistakably that of Herre Tollack was just about audible.
"Good enough. The Dale* thinks the same of him, and Earl Eadred alone has enough men to make this pretender matter. You follow?"
Leofric stared absently into Earl Hart's face.
You ignorant fuck, Baldar had wanted to reply, but he decided to be a touch more conciliatory.
"... right, fine. You know what happens when a man who wants to seize Execester gets more men than the man who holds it?"
"Execester burns and the first man gets what he wants?"
"Yes." Baldar replied, himself now impatient.
"And what of Bernhard? How can we raise the banners to a man we do not have?"
"I have a plan for that too, my friend." He stood up, and a third time, floated his hand in the direction across the corridor to a third door.
Baldar led Leofric up a well-lit spiralling staircase that was close enough to make the fatter earl afraid of having to squeeze himself through, but eventually they reached the next floor, where Baldar led the two of them to a door halfway down the corridor. A terse knock on the door, and the door soon opened itself to reveal Bernhard, the grandson of the last overlord.
"The Dale" - the earldom of the Yea valley, to the east-south-east, against the Weskermere; roughly where Yeaburn is situated today.
Langstead Burgh, the Earldom of Langstead
Mid-south Osynstry
The High Republic of Esthursia
"Bring the guests in, Walthor." Earl Baldar Hart told his marshal, floating his hand roughly across the stone-clad room to the doors into Langstead Burgh. The marshal, sprite for a seventy-something man, walked himself over to the doors and pulled them open, revealing the sight of the Earl of Asgar, Leofric Sellin, dismounting with the rest of his guards who had accompanied him on the journey south across earldoms.
The marshal welcomed the rather stout Leofric into the halls, flanked by his Earlguards, Tollack and Lars. Leofric was a touch younger than Baldar, yet looked infinitely more weathered than forty, scarred by his time in the war on Helvellyn ten years prior - his sleeve hung limp from his left arm, a stump hidden where his wrist should be. His grey-speckled beard covered up a doubled chin somewhat inadequately. Earl Sellin, nonetheless, marched his way up to Baldar, unperturbed by the amount of guards surrounding the entrance.
"I've come a long way for this, Baldar," Leofric began, wearily, "this had better be worth my travels." Earl Sellin's voice was somewhat raspy, but far more than loud enough to make it clear to hear every sound that left his mouth.
Baldar smiled at his old friend. "It will." He walked Leofric into the great hall, and floated his hand again, this time to a few chairs nearest to the door.
"I'll sit down when you tell me something worth my stay."
"The Chancellor has told my earldom to seize old Eadgar's ward, Bernhard, and hand him over. They want him disappeared, gone, locked up." Baldar said, grimly. "He came himself down with his deemers, what a jolly bunch of bores. But his presence in these parts means Chancellor Hereward has reason to believe the boy is down here somewhere."
"Yes, I am fully to grips with Hereward's insistence on information before movement. It's why I lost my fucking hand at Strackway when the Helmarkers seized me and learnt my identity. Don't charge into nothing, Hereward had insisted." Leofric bitterly recanted, taking a moment to look solemnly and mourn his stump. Before Strackway, Earl Leofric had been one of the finest knights that the High Republic had, and one of the most loyal too - an idealist, a reformer, everything that embodied Hereward's loyal men. Afterwards, he had aged beyond his years, gained weight and even lost some of his edge, but the most abrupt change was that of his beliefs. Hereward had even received Leofric's hand the week after, and yet a following three weeks passed until the Chancellor's men finally pushed far enough to pressure the Helmarkers to give him up more favourably - and Leofric's knowledge that he had effectively been the instrument of an extortion, for a slightly better deal, had crushed his opinion of the new High Republic. "What makes him think the bastard's lurking down here? Is he getting that paranoid?"
"Possibly. Bernhard's the last of Eadgar's house worth mentioning, and he's now old enough to hold a sword. That's enough for any overlord, or chancellor, to quake - he's a potential pretender."
"And what in the blazing hell does this have to do with me?" Leofric probed, slamming his only hand hard on the table. "This is fascinating and all, but I don't see what-"
"If you would let me finish." Baldar hissed, quietly, leaning forward just enough to make Leofric - a man twice his size - uncomfortable. "Well, you share my opinions on Hereward."
"The bastard's a coward and a weasel who dares tell me not to kill my criminals because it goes against his so-called philosophy, aye, a poor man who thinks it right to give the so-called rights of the serfs away from their rightful possessors." A groan that was unmistakably that of Herre Tollack was just about audible.
"Good enough. The Dale* thinks the same of him, and Earl Eadred alone has enough men to make this pretender matter. You follow?"
Leofric stared absently into Earl Hart's face.
You ignorant fuck, Baldar had wanted to reply, but he decided to be a touch more conciliatory.
"... right, fine. You know what happens when a man who wants to seize Execester gets more men than the man who holds it?"
"Execester burns and the first man gets what he wants?"
"Yes." Baldar replied, himself now impatient.
"And what of Bernhard? How can we raise the banners to a man we do not have?"
"I have a plan for that too, my friend." He stood up, and a third time, floated his hand in the direction across the corridor to a third door.
Baldar led Leofric up a well-lit spiralling staircase that was close enough to make the fatter earl afraid of having to squeeze himself through, but eventually they reached the next floor, where Baldar led the two of them to a door halfway down the corridor. A terse knock on the door, and the door soon opened itself to reveal Bernhard, the grandson of the last overlord.
"The Dale" - the earldom of the Yea valley, to the east-south-east, against the Weskermere; roughly where Yeaburn is situated today.