((I'm assuming Aulon is with me in the castle, and that Taric would have some form of banner identifying him. ))
Trubaldsome sat in his quarters, the same room which had once belonged to his dead father, then both of his older brothers. He had avoided the throne room thus far, troubled by the knowledge that
both of the previous Kings- Well, in the last case a very short-lived King- had died in the same room.
So instead, he sat in his opulent quarters in a large, padded armchair, sipping at the wine he'd had Waery drag up from the cellars. Seated with him was, of course, Waery, but also Aulon yl Marchis and his large bodyguard, Asate, along with a few terrified looking traders and courtiers, and a newly-arrived merchant named Hans, whom no-one had deemed particularly threatening.
At any other time the huge, grim Asate usually made Trubaldsome nervous, but in such times, with Taric's army marching for his doorstep and himself being so terrified in the first place, he was glad for any allies he could muster.
"Now," He said at length, his voice a croak. He grimaced and cleared his throat before continuing, masking his fear. "Those filthy dogs out there may seem numerous, but believe me, this castle has withstood many uppity peasants and their barbarous armies over the years; the only reason that
bastard Terenos managed to get in, was by slithering in through the open door under a banner of 'peace'."
Trubaldsome allowed himself a wry smirk, pausing for a moment and hearing the clatter of footsteps as his and yl Marchis' men got into position out on the walls. "No, I don't think we shall make that mistake, shall we?"
He sat foward, serious once more as he spoke to Aulon. "We can turn the citizens against them. They have had nothing but grief from Elbreth, they have had their King murdered, their homes robbed and their daughters raped. They have nothing but hatred for foul invaders such as Sir Taric, the..." He forced a bitter laugh, "'
Just'."
Then he got to his feet, downing the rest of his wine in agitation before pacing over to a small, barred window in the room, drawing aside the fine curtain for a peek at the enemy army.
Then he turned, and strode for the hallway, Waery following closely. "Now, we will show these rat-raping Elbrethians they are not welcome here, shall we not?" As he reached a large, stout oaken door leading to the wall, reinforced with iron bands, he paused and fished in a pocket, 'Hmm'ing thoughtfully to himself.
He was dressed in the finest clothes he could find in the castle, which were quite find indeed: A long, thick velvet woolen gown which rather smothered his thin form, decorated with soft, warm wolf fur just bursting from the lining, a purple mantle of silk, a mark of royalty, and about half-a-dozen assorted jeweled necklaces around his neck.
But, after quick pinch of snuff, he set his gilded snuffbox aside on the floor, and began, with some difficulty, to struggle out of all these layers. "Ah... M'Lord?" Said Waery, sharing a puzzled glance with the others.
"Give me a hand here, damnit, Waery!" The young prince grunted, then eventually got free of the over-large robe with Waery's assistance. He carefully folded it, and laid it aside along with the jewellery and mantle, then began, with some reluctance, plucking his precious rings from his fingers and dropping them on the pile, also.
Finally, he was clad only in his comparatively simple jerkin and leggings of light brown striped with pale blue, green felt boots (a new pair) and, of course, his favourite hat, green with the blue hatbrim stuffed with feathers.
He turned to his confused audience with a sly smile after picking up his snuffbox. "You see, we are winning the peasants over, here. We want them to fight on our side. Who would they rather fight for, do you think, a rich, bejewelled Prince they have not seen in years, who has always been aloof and distant from their turnip-grubbing little lives, or a
fellow citizen, a person just like they, hard done by and victimized by the nation of Elbreth?"
He paused a moment to let this sink in, then turned and marched over to the door, shoving it open and heading out onto the wall, the battlements lined with his own archers and Aulon's pikemen, who all turned to watch him expectantly.
He was on the lowest wall, the ruins of the city in plain sight beyond the enemy force. Leaning over the parapret, he shouted at the top of his voice, down towards the mostly-damaged homes of his people.
"Loyal Citizens of Miring! Listen to your King!" He waited, eyes scanning the city expectantly. A few folk peered cautiously out of the nearest buildings, having heard him. Hopefully they would pass the word to others out of earshot.
"We are a people besieged!" Trubaldsome went on, gesturing to himself, then waving a hand across the whole, partially ruined city. "We have had nought but pain and suffering of late! Yet do we crumble? Do we cower in a corner and weep? No! We are Mirish! We are not like these egg-sucking Elbrethians! We do not hide in our dank caves, marching out only to attack those weaker then we! No, we are nothing like these curs! These pig-buggering sons of mange-stricken cows!" He was really warming to his theme here, pacing up and down the walls waving his arms above his head, spittle flying from his mouth as he denounced the enemy, hopefully stirring the same sentiment amongst the peasants.
"These yellow-bellied Elbrethian lizards shall not faze us! They shall not scare us! We shall fight them."
He paused for a moment, appearing to squint down towards the approaching army.
"Oh, and look! Look, brave men of Miring! Look at the wretched figure leading these bastards!"
He jabbed a finger angrily towards the banner fluttering above the lead group of enemy soldiers.
"These foul invaders are lead by none-other Than Sir Taric of Elbreth! Known associate of a fellow I am sure you all remember: Terenos d'Avistral! Yes, this Sir Taric- Who, I am told, is called 'The Just' by his peers- was there, egging that fiend Terenos on as he murdered my brother, destroyed our homes, and raped our fair Mirish daughters!"
He stood up straight, then, setting his jaw and slamming a fist down on the battlement, (And hiding the pain, naturally)
"Will we allow these soulless murderers to maraud through our once-fine City?! I will not!! Will you join me? Will you join me, and our bold allies from the Sword... Sorry, from the Storm Coast in driving these Elbrethians out?! Will you act with honour and defend your home?" He watched the peasant's reactions for a moment, then raised a fist into the air and headed back inside the castle. His soldiers held their weapons aloft and raised a cheer as their King walked past them, and only those closest to him could see the sheen of sweat across his features.
Once back inside, out of sight of the soldiers and peasants he was attempting to inspire, he very nearly collapsed, leaning heavily against a wall, his breathing heavy and uneven as he scrabbled for his snuffbox. As he got it out, he turned away from the others and took a deep pinch, and another, then sneezed a few times and shook his head vigorously before turning back to the group following him, a grin spread across his features now. "See, now the peasants shall rise up! The brave sons and daughters of Miring shall fight by their King's side, driving these
dammned Elbrethians back whence they came!" He wiped his sweaty palms on his jerkin, then headed further inside, apparently forgetting the pile of heavy clothes.
Go out onto the walls, dressed in fairly simple clothes, and make a big speech (shouting so as to be heard by those in the city) to inspire both my soldiers and the peasants, hopefully inciting the latter to arm themselves and join in the fight against Taric's forces.
Then go up onto a higher part of the walls (perhaps the walls of the inner keep, if I have an inner keep...) and command the battle from there. Military orders: Very simple, really, with the drawbridge raised Taric's only way in is the walls, and he has no archers, so simply have my longbowmen pepper anyone making their way up the walls full of arrows, with Aulon's pikemen ready to deal with any who get close. Oh, and have the kitchen staff dump boiling water and food scraps over their heads. 
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Topic: You are King! (Spring 315a) (Read 189333 times)