The Fluidity of Time...
Erika knelt by Anate's side. His eyes were closed, and she thought he might be sleeping. She touched the young man - older than herself, in truth - on the arm and spoke softly.
"Norn? It's me. The Princess." Erika chuckled to herself, a sadness to her voice. "Erika, between us. Nobody's really watching. I came to check on you, to fill you in if you care for it, and to offer my apologies. Let's start with those.
"I'm sorry. There was a miscommunication of orders, somewhere along the chain the flag bearers ended up with the wrong message and the wrong orders were given. I gave command for the cavalry to ride to your aid, to capture the Factor and give succour to your men. Instead, they struck the left flank and captured the prisoners there. Your men could have been saved. You could have been saved. There's nothing I can do now, but to honour their memories and see that their kin are taken care of. All I can give you is my apology, and this truth. The sacrifice of the men of this town, your sacrifice, was not in vain. Sheepy Hollow stands free, for the first time in centuries. Its men, its women and children, can look to a life with their heads held high, never ashamed to be Elbrethan.
"To fill you in, then. The town is taken. The Factor escaped, and that is regrettable, but she can be recaptured. The people are poor, and hunger gnaws at them. Their generosity, despite their poverty, has allowed a feast this night in celebration of the victory. If you can come, you should, but I expect we will leave on the morrow. I will arrange for help to carry you, if needed, or a horse if you can ride.
"If you have anything to ask, please say it, Anate. If not, know that I am with you, my most noble companion."
Once again, Erika found herself in a foul mood. That utter barbarian! she cursed to herself. All of our prisoners in bondage, all of them shipped off to Weyland already! Now what can I bargain with, hm? What has the Jarl left me to sway their command with? His life? Any commander worth his salt would accept an honourable death rather than betray his kinsmen. I can't offer him his men's freedom or lives. I have nothing to give him. I might as well shoot the poor bastard myself.
Calm yourself, Erika, she thought, in an echo of her brother's voice. The Princess stormed past the guards to one of the chambers set aside for her. The mercenary commander would have been brought to the rooms the Factor had used to entertain. This was not one of them. The situation is not unsalvageable. Be creative. Our enemy has been surprised. They fell for the ruse. What will they think of me, hm?
Erika sat down in front of a large mirror and unbound her ponytail, red hair billowing out. She studied it and frowned. No time to really do anything with it. Loose would have to do. She spent a few moments with a brush making it look wilder. She opened up a box of make-up and started applying it, choosing colours and blush that would give the look of one trying a little too hard.
Well, they certainly won't expect a sixteen year old girl to have outfoxed them. Flavia, perhaps, but not some nobody pretty girl with a good name. Ah, but Flavia isn't running the game, is she? No, Flavia's sharp, but she doesn't have the money. The Eel has the money. So what do they really expect, then? A savvy young girl, or a savvy old commander behind her?
Erika studied her features. Yes, too much rouge and a lipstick that failed to quite mesh with her complexion, but both of high enough quality to be expensive. She rummaged through a chest next to her, pulling out and discarding various dresses until she found one frilly enough for her needs.
Ipswitch goggled for several moments before he realised who the apparition before him was and stood to attention. Marson had already pulled off a confused salute to the wayward girl before them. Wild red hair, too much makeup and a bright summery yellow dress at odds with the weather. A matching pair of yellow ribbons had been tied into her hair, and the girl skipped towards the doors. She looked twelve and trying to be older, not sixteen.
"Oh, Ipswitch, you lovely man!" the creature said in a saccharine, girly voice. The voice snapped suddenly to that of the Princess. "Arrange a twenty minute gap in security next to this prisoner's tent during the feast. Make it easy for him to run, but not to get hold of a weapon and come seeking revenge, understand?" The Princess' sharp green eyes opened into wide, childish emerald orbs. "Oh, do open the door, sweetie!"
A confused Ipswitch opened the door, revealing a sumptuous room with a dinner service laid out for two, bearing a scrumptious roast beef dish on both plates and a bowl of apples in the centre. A couple of glasses and a wine bottle completed the set. Sat on one of the chairs was the police commander, washed and combed. His plate was untouched.
Erika half skipped to the other chair and plopped herself down, then reached for one of the apples - and stopped, as if she had remembered something and pulled her hand away. She put both of her elbows on the table and propped her head up on her hands.
She had originally planned to eat a little of the meal, to show that it wasn't poisoned, but her priorities had changed now. Best to make the man sweat.
"Um, greetings, sir," Erika said, choosing an accent both more childish and more refined than her own, as one vacuous but well educated might have. "It is so lovely to have you for dinner. Mister Half-a-Dan says I shouldn't have any, because it will spoil my appetite for the feast, but that you should eat up because you maybe haven't eaten since this morning. You really should eat up, it's a long way to the coast and you really don't want to get there all hungry.
"So I really wanted to see you, you know! Mister Half-a-Dan said I shouldn't, but I'm the queen, so what I say goes, and I wanted to meet the handsome man in charge of all those soldiers. Mr Half-a-Dan said I'd meet you later, and that you would help him show me how to make a flag with you, isn't that lovely of him? But I wanted to meet you now, before dinner.
"So what's your name, what's it like living in Preston? I mean, Elbreth. I hope we'll be friends."
Erika smiled, waiting for the commander to interrogate her.
Erika sat in a room with three comfortable chairs and a fireplace, brushing the ribbons out of her hair with distaste. She had already changed into a serviceable coat, trousers, shirt and vest for the feast, silver circlet on a side table for when she needed it. A decanter of brandy and three snifters sat beside it, a half-inch of brandy in the one closest to Erika.
Parley knocked and opened the door. "Master Harroway and Master Hassir for you, ma'am," he said. Erika nodded to him and Alistair and Ssyrith were shown in. The Princess gestured to the pair of free chairs.
"Welcome, gentlemen. We have a little time before the feast. Have a drink, if you wish. The Factor had excellent taste, and I needed to get the taste of sugar out of my mouth after that last interrogation. By the by, Hassir, I know it's your department, but I've arranged a window for a prisoner to escape during the feast and hopefully carry a spot of misinformation to the enemy. I've written up a summary of what he's been told for you here, if you advise against it." Erika drew a small scrap of paper from her coat and left it on the side table.
"Now, then. Magic. Here is what I know already. It is unpredictable, within given ranges. Stories of it often mention spells either having little effect or breaking free of their caster's control, and yet I have heard of stable spells formulated along the Storm Coast. Not everyone can do it. Only a handful of people seem to be able to call themselves mages, but apparently it is almost ubiquitous amongst the hatcuri.
"That's it. Here's but a small sample of what I don't know, and if you do, I should like to. How unpredictable is magic? Is its unpredictability limited to the intended scale of the effect? Why can only a handful of people do it? Is it inbuilt talent, or simply limited education? Is it simply better taught amongst the hatcuri? What powers it; does it come from within the mage, like speech, or from elsewhere like wind pushing the sails of a windmill? What fundamental principles underlie it? Is it an impersonal force, like gravity or the winds in the sky, or is it truly bargained from spirits and imps? In what ways and manners can it affect the world, beyond the summoning of fire? For that manner, how is fire summoned? As an elemental force, or simply by the application of heat?
"If you can think of aught else, please feel free to say."
It had been a long, long day, and the feast could only do so much to allay Erika's weariness. Songs were sung, music played. What little food the townsfolk had, they brought out to feast upon. The king in Erika could not help but recognise that each hearty mouthful here was a day of starvation for these desperate people. Erika rose, and she waited until the quiet had spread across the tables along the town square. She smiled, her voice reflecting the simple pleasure of addressing her people.
"Men and women of Elbreth. My brothers, my sisters. Traditionally, one starts a feast with a speech, but I know how hungry we are after today, and I thought I'd wait." A ripple of laughter down the tables. The smile dimmed, and a hint of soberness rang through Erika's voice, carried on the truth of her words. "We've all been hungry, for too long. Hungry for liberty, hungry for security, hungry for food. Hungry, sick and tired. The virtues of a king are the virtues of her people, the virtues of Cyclicism: Temperance. Charity. Diligence. Patience. Kindness. Humility. Dignity. Courage. Prudence. Justice. Mercy. Provision. Today, each and every one of you has shown your charity in this food, this kindness to your fellow Elbrethan. As your king, I will answer your charity with provision.
"Tomorrow, we march to liberate more of our people, but I leave you with this vow. I will return, and when I do I will bring food and medicine and hope. I am your king, and I will provide."
The door to the Princess' chamber opened a crack. Erika sat bolt upright, drenched in sweat, levelling both of the pistols from beneath her pillow at the terrified maid.
"I - I -" the maid stammered.
"Spit it out, woman."
"I - I heard crying, ma'am, I thought to check if you were alright."
Erika studied the maid for a moment, then tilted her pistols towards the ceiling.
"Everything's fine. Go back to work."
"Yes, ma'am." The maid curtseyed hurriedly and left the room.
Erika re-set the safeties on her pistols and slid them back beneath her pillow. She nestled back amongst the covers and tried to sleep, praying for no more nightmares.
The Princess met with her council in the strategy room the following morning. She had changed into her usual marching outfit, pistols holstered and Winchester slung across her back.
"Ladies, gentlemen. Once the men are decamped I intend that we march east, so if you haven't eaten, do. Castle Black should have supplies and medicines held for the local garrison, and it makes sense as a point for taxes to go through on their way to Preston. Liberating it should free up food and supplies to send back to the Hollow and to elsewhere.
"I also have another reason for picking Castle Black. Our enemy was fooled by indications that we were heading east, straight for Preston. Instead we turned south, on a course for Sheepstead. Once again, we give indications that we will head east, perhaps striking for Preston or Miring. They will have learned, and distrust this. Therefore, they will expect us to continue south, to Sheepstead. By heading for the Castle, we can continue to keep them second-guessing, and have the apparent option of being able to strike freely at Preston, Miring or Suul.
"As usual, speak now if you dispute the strategy, or have other advice to add."
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Topic: You Are King! - The Steam Age - Chapter I: Liberty [Game Thread] (Read 20341 times)