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[Maldevious]

Many huzzahs! I would like to examine the heraldry a bit, see who is here.

[GreatWyrmGold]

We should probably prepare for the mummery.

[3man75]

Accompany mother on her trip to the market place. Maybe we can get something cool and come on we barely spend time with mother.

Also the preacher sounds interesting maybe we should drop by to hear a few words...under the protection of one our adult knights prefrably. For everything else i say...w.e

[Lord_lemonpie]

Accompany mother on her trip to the market place. Maybe we can get something cool and come on we barely spend time with mother.

Also the preacher sounds interesting maybe we should drop by to hear a few words...under the protection of one our adult knights prefrably. For everything else i say...w.e

+1

[Beneviento]

Let's find out what happened at Mumsford Mound. We don't really know what happened in this timeline, as the original Lordship ended on somewhat of a cliffhanger. We might find out something about it that might be useful to us.

[Gervassen]

All's Fair -- Part VII

Keenly anticipating the onset of the grand tournament, you have little patience for the various petty desports of the commoners scheduled to be held on the first day, but you are strongly tempted by a number of other possibilities, including accompanying Mother in her perusal of the foreign wares, and investigating the preacher outside of town. You realise that the breadth of your ambitions for today will curtail your enjoyment of any particular one; yet with some forethought, you can dabble in most of your whims.

Thinking ahead about your safety in this busy place, full of big strangers and passing horse carts, you decide to find an adult knight in your mother's household. Since there is no reason in your mind to avoid picking the very best--and because you have a sudden urge to learn more about the Battle of Mumsford Mound--you hail Luther and request that he attend you. As usual, he accedes to your wishes with an affable solemnity and places you high above the bustling crowds on his broad shoulder.

Then you seek out Gervaise and tell Luther to guide the two of you to the library. The walk there is both safe and quick under Luther's protection and local knowledge, to say nothing of his unique ability to expedite passage through the dense flow of passersby. After a climb up the sloping lanes to the main town square, you spot the library and scriptorium buildings annexed to the steepled church. With a squeal and an expression of complete rapture, Gervaise runs ahead. At the library door, the monks attempt to bar Gervaise from entering, since books are precious objects of laborious construction and costly materials, not readily entrusted to any dishevelled little vagrant that comes a-calling in ripped and grass-stained robes. However, when you catch up, the menace of your battle-scarred wooden sword and of Luther's presence both serve to sort out the misunderstanding with the doorkeeper.

Gervaise enters and excitedly reports back that there is at least ten times the quantity of books stocked in the shelves of the library here. He invites you inside the library to glance at the collection of books with him, or you can continue northward back downhill to the dockside markets, or detour westward through the gaudy expanse of tents and pavilions that the attending knights have packed into the unused fields beyond the hillock. It also occurs to you that you could climb the church tower to survey your surroundings.

[Lord_lemonpie]

Climb the tower to scan your surroundings

[Plato Play-Doh]

I say we go investigate the preacher outside of town first. Wouldn't want to have him finish for the day, and as such miss this chance to learn about the area, and the people within it. After that, we should visit the knight's tents. Additionally, I think we should get Luther to assign a guard to Gervaise, to escort him wherever he needs to go, since he is still in danger of being harassed, and he could also get lost, and being the little shrimp that he is, we'll probably never find him again.

[Gervassen]

All's Fair -- Part VIIb

You tell Luther that you want to scan your surroundings, and he agrees that a bird's-eye view might help cut through the chaos. Luther is well-known in Feroshire and no stranger to the priests in the church. Soon you are both in the church belfry, poised high above the teeming sprawl, taking useful observations on all the impromptu lanes and avenues that have sprouted up amid so many temporary encampments for the week-long autumn fair. 

Southward is the majority of the encampments and, beyond them, the longest stretch of the city wall, which has been turned into an elevated viewing platform, long sections of stands for spectators running along its entire length. A large viewing box is built atop the central section of the southern wall near the main gatehouse, clearly intended for the comfort of Countess and the most worthy of other worthies in attendance. This audience area overlooks a flimsy-looking but brightly-painted replica of a walled city, complete with small houses that a child could enter and ramparts to defend. You suspect that this is a stage prop for your mummery. Far to either side of the south wall are distant palisades that will mark safe harbour for one team of knights in the grand tournament, if they should need to retreat from the fray.

Even further away, you see the crowds of the preacher--at least an hour's walk away--and you doubt that you can do everything that you want near the city, and yet still catch the sermon in the countryside.

Looking north, on the other hand, you see the river and its docks not far away at all, near which all the markets have been constructed. From here, you clearly spot your Mother's large entourage pushing through the masses.

Just saw Playdoh's reply now, so I will set out toward the preacher unless interrupted. For a general picture of the town layout, Feroshire looks more-or-less the same as it does on this page. I dislike a number of things about that map, but it gets the point across. Just add tents everywhere, and stands and props along the southern wall.

Btw, if anyone is wondering why Feroshire has so many more books than the county capital itself, the answer is that Feroshire was never depopulated by plague and then looted--plus the remains of what had been recovered in the ruins of Curbiston were brought to the safety of Feroshire and never returned. Beyond records, writs, and communications there is nothing of literary or instructional value left in Curbiston beyond the small personal library of the Countess in the Keep.

[Maldevious]

I'm not sure what Gervaise has done to merit having a real soldier guarding him. He's in the library, as he wished, and should be safe enough.

I worry about the preacher seeing a young nobleman and turning a crowd against us, but with Luther in tow that shouldn't be too much of an issue. So I'll say +1 to that, provided we have Luther along.

[3man75]

I'm not sure what Gervaise has done to merit having a real soldier guarding him. He's in the library, as he wished, and should be safe enough.

I worry about the preacher seeing a young nobleman and turning a crowd against us, but with Luther in tow that shouldn't be too much of an issue. So I'll say +1 to that, provided we have Luther along.

Agreed. Preachers at this era are sources of common opinions and we at LEAST need to know what the issues are on the streets here. I have a feeling it's against the "searaiders" who have settled down. BTW what are their new names?

[GreatWyrmGold]

"Sea Raiders"?

[Gervassen]

Agreed. Preachers at this era are sources of common opinions and we at LEAST need to know what the issues are on the streets here. I have a feeling it's against the "searaiders" who have settled down. BTW what are their new names?

Good question. Sadly, the time-honoured "Sea Raiders" just doesn't work anymore, does it? Or at least, it sounds ridiculously hollow by now, after they've been kicked incredibly hard in the sack twice due to their ill-judged maritime peregrinations. Not to deflate future suspense, but foreign Sea Raiders won't be back for a third helping. You might as well call modern Swedes the Vikings, because they're more likely to have another go at Yorkshire than the Sea-raiders still in Searadia are to triple down on the humiliations that they were dealt. Besides, when you have to type these things repeatedly, "Sea Raiders" feels too long.

"Kampchuk" is the name that the captive raider, Joral, supplied for her people long ago, and I suppose it works as an official name with proper dignity... but is too outlandish a sound to place on the tongues of local peasantry who don't care about the Kampchuckean dignity.

There is always my pet "Baabar" but it never quite took root; and anyway, the idea was that the raiders were speaking a foreign language which sounded bizarre and goat-like to the locals. As serfs, the Baabar will be gradually losing their foreign language and learning Marchlending speech. Thus, they will soon have no goat-language to validate the slur.

The result of this examination is the conclusion that we really don't have an ideal name yet.

So, I just now tried to think of a random harsh-sounding guttural, and "Scrog" came to mind. My dictionary informs me that this means a stunted tree or bush. That implication fits well with the diminished status of the surviving Sea-Raiders. There you have it! These people are increasingly being called "Scrogs" by the local peasantry.

The nobility, however, might well call them "Roussards" on account of their red hair. The possibilities for new and exotic terms of abuse are nearly limitless, so why artificially limit ourselves to one?

An additional note about Updates: I want to reach the mummery this weekend, but we're rushing to an inflection point, where I have to begin nailing down the vague wispy outlines of a plot that we have been bouncing along on. That introduces potential for contradictions and random silliness. That necessitates more caution, and slows down the updates. There's an update coming down the pipe just after this, though.

[Gervassen]

All's Fair -- Part VIIc -- Luther's Account of Mumsford

You and Luther spend a bit of time searching around for one of Marna's retainers to press into service as a guard at the library door, but it is extremely hard to spot specific individuals in amongst the huge crowds. Finally, you give up the search by rationalising that Gervaise will probably remain ensconced safe within the library at least until this evening, taking careful inventory of his new treasure hoard like a greed-filled dragon.

You set out to investigate the preacher's sermon by retracing your steps out of town through the eastern gate and back up the same road on which you arrived--when, near the parked convoy, you and Luther run across Higg Eatnell, a guardsman and the father of Henry and Hubert Higgs. Luther seems on the verge of assigning him some extra guard duty at the library, but Higg launches into such a worried ramble about his missing sons that Luther can only pat his back in sympathy and assure him that they're around here somewhere.

You continue onward. Not far into the quiet trek, you realise that this time alone with Luther is a perfect time to ask him about your father's last battle. In a small, uncertain voice that isn't quite sure yet whether it wants answers, you start up. "Luther, tell me about that day, near Mumsford, when Father got his fatal wounds. Were there this many people there? And the Sea Raiders, were they really so skinny and weak?"

"Aye, Milord. This many." With an appraising squint toward the busy fairgrounds, Luther projects his sight back, in more ways than one. "Aye. This many or more soldiers took the field that day. Each armed and armoured cap-a-pie, horses stamping the ground at the bottom of that steep hill. The finest knights throughout all the March, both east and west, and some from the north, too, all took up their places in the King's centre battle. I was there, with your father, and insufferably proud to be there. We thought charging up and smashing the Baabar scum down the other side would be a simple thing. They raged and howled atop that hill like demons. We should have listened and thought better of our arrogance. They were even more numerous than us, nor were they outmatched in spirit and valour: starvation had only made them fiercer and more desperate, like hungry dogs."

Unknown to Luther, that particular comparison strikes uncomfortably home, and a cold shiver of fear runs down your spine.

"Maybe you see those weak Scrogs in the field now, Isaac. What you see now, what you hear now, all meant nothing up on the blood-slick slopes of Mumsford Mound. The bravest and the best on both sides fell."

After a long pause, Luther's lips continue moving, but a different man voices a hollow recitation. "We held out. We held out longer than any fifteen men had ever done before against so many. They came on in a reckless frenzy, whooping and shrieking, their massive chief driving them forward with swift judgment dealt out to the faint-hearted and to the slow-footed among them. We held, till Duke Erran took an arrow above his gorget. Denton... Our coordination collapsed all at once. The end was rushing toward us, so unbelievably fast. An axe stroke clove open the King's helmet, and it threw him down, twitching and shaking on the ground. The Great Chief himself came on fierce to finish off the King, and our strength and skill were useless to stop him. Your father fell over the King and took that brutal blow. Then I lay over your father and the King both, guarding them with my body, when Great Gergal towered over me and would have killed me with his hammer--but you won't ever glimpse that monstrous man gathering up mown straw in our fields, next to his lesser kind. Count Gorgan thrust his slender sword through a small rip in the monster's maille and gutted him. Then Gergal struck the Count's head in roaring revenge, so that a fine red mist sprayed out the seams of a crumpled helm. I passed out with the enemy still swarming around me.

"You'll hear many stories about that day, Milord, if you keep asking questions. Talk of hellfires bursting from the ground and of dark alchemy, of cowardice and of broken faith, of brother killing brother, or leaving brother behind; but nothing went as we thought it would, nor as any of us can quite remember now. I slipped into unconsciousness knowing the battle lost and my King dead, but Count Stone still alive. When I awoke, the battle was won, the King lived, and your father lay feverish with the gangrene.

"So go the tides in battle."

[Gervassen]

All's Fair -- Part VIId

You choose not to ask Luther any more questions about the battle, continuing on in an awkward silence and digesting his disjointed memories. You have heard many of the common retainers in your household guard offhandedly mention their own participation in the battle, but it almost sounds as if they fought a far different battle--one in which most of them returned.

Your musing ends when you enter within bellowing distance of the preacher and begin to pick up the words of his screed. Many common folk from the countryside stop to listen as they pass through on their way to the Fair, and after a hot earful, they wander on their way. He has strategically set himself up on a rougher unpaved track off the main highways, used by foot traffic and herds being driven to the market, torn up, sprinkled with clumps of cow dung and deep ruts. Suffice to say, paths such as these are not much trafficked by those rich enough to ride in style. 

"Hark ye, good men!" The shaggy-bearded preacher calls out to the passing peasants. "Hark ye, farmers and herdsmen, and all honest sons of Adam! If you be men of calloused hand and sweaty brow, stop to rest a while from your labours; but if you be men of sharp mind, stay to listen a while, and hear of your disinheritance!"

He hooks in some peasants with these words, and others wander off after a previous earful.

"God gave the earth to all men equally. Where then is your equal share? See ye not the inequities of this earthly kingdom? It is right before your face. I look out across this group of worthy souls, and I see your simple brown homespuns and rough grey woolen gaberdines. But over there!" He flings a furious arm in the direction of the town packed with fluttering pennants. "Over there! There thou mayest see every dazzling colour and soft fabric under creation, cut into flags and pavilions dedicated to the pursuit of... of God's reverence? Nay, to pursuit of the sword! To the pursuit of that which "gentle" folk would place at our necks to demand more from us! They have raised up murder as a virtue among them, called it knighthood, and claimed it as their Heaven-ordained profession to "protect" us from their own harms! And they have the gall to call themselves righteous in this."

Some in the audience mutter angrily.

"Heaven ordained but one profession for the sons of Adam. God put men upon the earth to be good husbands of it and to bring forth the bounties from it. Farmers, herdsmen, and my good men all, you are the righteous ones!" A ripple of agreement. "Wherefore then one striveth and liveth lean from the sweat of his brow, as you do, and wherefore then another batten and grow fat on the fruit of your toils, as they do? God hath given them custody of the land to protect it, yet they have set themselves up as gods in his stead!"
 .
The preacher holds out his clenched fists, shaking in rage, and screams red-faced at the clouds. "When Adam delved and Eve span, who then was the Gentleman? Let the meek arise at last, and gain their inheritance!" The crowd roars and clenches their own fists in a surge of outrage.

Your recent training in the theatrics of the stage makes you critically judge the last bit as what Symeons would call out-heroding herod, but overall, the priest has made a very good barn-burner of a sermon. The question is how you react. Luther is wearing simple clothes little better than a peasant's--as usual according to his unassuming nature; and, while yours are a bit richer in make and material, you haven't been noticed yet at the back of the audience.

You can wait, leave quietly, speak, act, command, or whatever you like. But if you speak, use quotation marks.