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>>5243545
You grunt. But she's not wrong. An active person, the relative high amount of leisure time afforded you while you wait for your initiates to be trained up, an order from Alkaign to arrive, or just anything at all to happen is indeed weighing on you. There are a number of things you could involve yourself directly in around the castle, but you fear you may just be getting in the way of those more suited to those tasks. Still, idleness ill suits you. A doublet and fine set of pants is set out of you, probably Garn's fine taste. He knows you hate him stepping in on you and Alys, so you often find clothes for the next day laid out and ready when you both retire for the night. You dress in the somewhat too fine clothes and head downstairs, telling your betrothed you will see her again soon.

It's still early morning, you know that the aspirants are out at training, and most of the staff should not be busy. Your habit has been to take up the training yard, but you've been at that for more than a month now and you feel your skills are about as sharp as they will get. At least for now. Better you find something else to put yourself towards.

It strikes you that, if your message was on time, it is mere days before Eleyse arrives with the party from Hold Campbell. You told the Priestess of the surprisingly opulent chapel within Barathon, a matronly woman called Liotha, that you would proceed with the marriage as soon as she arrived. Alys has no family to expect, so that and the ring are all that is keeping you. Liotha, a kindly sort, seemed more excited for you than anything. You got the impression she gets few visitors.

Of course, your coming nuptials have gone from mere rumor to established fact among the men. That was more or less inevitable once Alys never requested her own room, not to mention those guards who saw you all but carry her to the infirmary. All your life you feared scandal, a mark on your honor that could not be rubbed out. Now it is public knowledge that you have fathered a bastard, even if untrue, and are bedding the Emperor's sister out of wedlock. You wouldn't dare deny either. The shock to your senses is that no one cares. If anything, the men seem to look on you more fondly. Maybe aspiring to be an untouchable moral paragon just makes you alien to the common man? They know now that no divine favor follows you, Avighon proved that much, that you have your own “vices”. Perhaps they view you as one of them, raised through some other merit? It does not fit with what you were raised to believe. But the last year has been nothing if not a deluge of new lessons. Lessons a man who spent years pursuing a vicious vendetta against the savages who murdered his father has a hard time understanding.

>>5243549
You could help Brassus. He could demonstrate against you exactly how to neutralize the longer reach of a weapon such as the bastard sword you favor. Maybe convince Domlech to give a different example entirely.

Salaf is another option. You are no spy, but you are well traveled, and could play adversary for his students in mock interrogations. The straightforward personalities of most guards and soldiers comes naturally to you, even as Alys has taught you other ways of thinking. Also, Salaf will be annoyed, and fuck him.

Yesterday you received word the first batch of involuntary recruits has arrived. Thirty or so criminals, mostly con men, but really anyone promising from the dungeons of Barathon town and anywhere nearby. None of them can be trusted yet, but maybe you can make an impression on them. Friedrich has them under guard in one of the previously unoccupied barracks halls within the walls. Attempted desertion is a certainty but you doubt Friedrich will skip the opportunity to make an example.

> Personal Focus

> Aid Brassus

> Aid Salaf

> Ensure Loyalty of New Recruits

>>5243551
The Alkaign interlude is still in the works. To paraphrase a far greater man than I, the tale grew in the telling. Ill post it in a pastebin or something when done.

https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5187631/

Archive link because I forgot it.

>>5243551
>Ensure Loyalty of New Recruits

>>5243551
>Ensure Loyalty.

The wedlock thing isnt so bad is it? We are engaged.

>>5243697
You may have picked this up, but Uilleam is very traditional. He cares a lot more about this stuff than most people do. Reputation wise the bastard is far more damaging than Will sleeping with his fiancée a few weeks before the wedding.

>>5243551
> Ensure Loyalty of New Recruits

>>5243551
>Ensure loyalty of the new recruits.

Yay, we're back! Still reeling from last thread's reveal though.

>>5243551
>Ensure Loyalty
And if we have time, also
>Aid Salaf
Whet our own interrogation techniques.

>>5243705
I gathered, and hope that he keeps that desire and aim to be a paragon of Honour, if not goodness, despite the world's best attempts to deny him it.

>>5243551
>Ensure Loyalty of New Recruits

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Your new recruits, that is to say the unfortunates who took service over incarceration when offered, are housed in a single barracks house. They are not many as of now, only fifty or so, but it is near double of the active agents you can expect out of the functionary brothers alone. Their loyalty, however, is an open question. A question you hope you have an answer to. As you pace down the courtyard you pass Friedrich, watching one of the knights make passes at a dummy jousting target. You motion for him to follow, and he does. For once you do not wave off the two men at arms who habitually shadow you, this time you have use for them. This time you project authority.

Before you enter, you note, “Friedrich, we need to convince these men this Order is their only chance. We need them to see this as nothing less than salvation. Do you understand?”

Friedrich nods. “As I said, I don't like it. But I also know not where else you would find men like this. I will aid you as my oath demands.”

“Good enough.” You nod.

The door opens on a packed bunkhouse. Men fill every palate, some sporting bruises and cuts that tell of the nature of their arrests. Their haggard faces look up as you and Friedrich enter.

“I am Captain-General of the Beholders.” You say in a resounding voice.

Few, if any, recognize any meaning in the title.

“You have been brought here to become my brothers. Because the skills you have used for ill may be turned to the good of the Empire.”

Some seem to accept this framing, Others clearly reject it, nothing more than the words of some coddled noble to his lessors.

“Join me in this and you will see pay, respect, even accolades. Those who honor themselves with achievement will be honored by me. I expect at least one of you will be among my personal guard by years end.” You smile slightly.

It drops. “Many of you will fail. If you quit, if the trials are too much, your previous sentence will be reinstated without issue.”

The rough men look at you with apathy. And you therefore get the first idea as to how to form them to your will and the use of the Order.

“You are acting as if you have an option!” Several of the men are making themselves scarce, finding ways to be further from you. You give them no alternative. Your voice fills the hall. “This is your best option! I will forge you into weapons of the Empire! And once you are my men, you are my responsibility! Everything you ever do will be my responsibility.” Some of them seem very focused on you, some even nod their heads in agreement. “No one in my ranks is perfect. I am not perfect. You will have heard that I was denied the favor of the Lady and the Gods at Avighon. But I continue on. Your crimes will be wiped away. Your sins will be forgotten. You will gain a second chance.”

>>5245034
You have carte blanche over recruitment. But taking men in such a away sits ill with you. Your only rationalization is that the Order will give them a better life than crime ever could.

You try your best to convince them.

> Please roll

> 1d100 DC 60 roll under

> Best of three

Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>5245055
Here goes

>>5245055
As always our 1d100 is a three roll maximum, despite our Indonesian friend rolling under immediately. Remember lower rolls have better outcomes. Maybe you can top him.

Rolled 64 (1d100)

>>5245055

Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>5245055

>>5245092
Good roll! I'll have a post tomorrow. As always, thank you all for reading, and feedback is always welcome.

I should probably note the wedding will be next update as well. Hope it goes great!"

>>5245181
Yay, I can already hear the bells!

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Your new recruits, that is to say the unfortunates who took service over incarceration when offered, are housed in a single barracks house. They are not many as of now, only fifty or so, but it is near double of the active agents you can expect out of the functionary brothers alone. Their loyalty, however, is an open question. A question you hope you have an answer to. As you pace down the courtyard you pass Friedrich, watching one of the knights make passes at a dummy jousting target. You motion for him to follow, and he does. For once you do not wave off the two men at arms who habitually shadow you, this time you have use for them. This time you project authority.

Before you enter, you note, “Friedrich, we need to convince these men this Order is their only chance. We need them to see this as nothing less than salvation. Do you understand?”

Friedrich nods. “As I said, I don't like it. But I also know not where else you would find men like this. I will aid you as my oath demands.”

“Good enough.” You nod.

The door opens on a packed bunkhouse. Men fill every palate, some sporting bruises and cuts that tell of the nature of their arrests. Their haggard faces look up as you and Friedrich enter.

“I am Captain-General of the Beholders.” You say in a resounding voice.

Few, if any, recognize any meaning in the title.

“You have been brought here to become my brothers. Because the skills you have used for ill may be turned to the good of the Empire.”

Some seem to accept this framing, Others clearly reject it, nothing more than the words of some coddled noble to his lessors.

“Join me in this and you will see pay, respect, even accolades. Those who honor themselves with achievement will be honored by me. I expect at least one of you will be among my personal guard by years end.” You smile slightly.

It drops. “Many of you will fail. If you quit, if the trials are too much, your previous sentence will be reinstated without issue.”

The rough men look at you with apathy. And you therefore get the first idea as to how to form them to your will and the use of the Order.

>>5246582

“You are acting as if you have an option!” Several of the men are making themselves scarce, finding ways to be further from you. You give them no alternative. Your voice fills the hall. “This is your best option! I will forge you into weapons of the Empire! And once you are my men, you are my responsibility! Everything you ever do will be my responsibility.” Some of them seem very focused on you, some even nod their heads in agreement. “No one in my ranks is perfect. I am not perfect. You will have heard that I was denied the favor of the Lady and the Gods at Avighon. But I continue on. Your crimes will be wiped away. Your sins will be forgotten. You will gain a second chance.”

You put out your hand, in a more theatrical manner than you would usually, but it feels appropriate. “Join the Order. We will forge you into something better, something important. I will show you purpose.”. The choice is theirs. You feel no need to elaborate further.

Many join. You leave the others to the tender ministrations of Friedrich and the others. There is no time. Exhaustion meets you, and you meet it by taking a two hour nap before you rise in the afternoon. But there is no respite. You accept them all, convinced your speech has a great return.

The audience is more of a shitshow than usual. You have little patience and it shows. Applicants are condemned at a higher rate than anyone can justify. They initiate anyone. Their numbers grow far greater than your own. You suspect sorcery. Its not as if they promise a better world like Reiji's followers did.

But still, the time to throw out accusations has passed. The time to yell at men in bars has passed as well. You will be a married man in a few days, Twenty nine years and now you have to be an adult. A part of you laments Alys,only twenty five, but her father never let her out of Althimur anyway.

Some new brothers aside, your sojourn to the nearby city of Godspeed was a bust. But at least you hav arrived in time for your sster's party.

>>5246585
There are a scant few days remaining before you expect to host Eleyse and the guardsmen accompanying her.

Eleyse is the family member you are closest to, and so you have given many instructions on how to greet and serve her upon her arrival

It's no surprise when you ride out to meet her.


> Please roll 1d100 best of three DC 65.

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>5246592
LUCK AND LOVE

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>5246592

Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>5246592

>>5246814
WHOO MAMA!

Update postponed due to hard drive failure. Should be up tomorrow evening if nothing else explodes.

>>5247644
Oof, QM Curse strikes, hope you can recover data. I've been in those trenches.

>>5247925
My backups were solid after all. All I really lost was the mostly written update post and a some notes I didn't bother putting on my cloud storage.

Should be up tonight.

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It's simple enough to ride out from Barathon and meet with Eleyse's traveling party. It's a clear day, the winter snow melting off all around you in the relative warmth of the sun. Alys chooses to join you, her own class for the new aspirants done away with for the day. It is, for once, a mild and pleasant day. Alys, the two knights escorting you, and yourself are all that makes up your own group. As ever, you eschew the larger escort and pomp you could command considering your position. A leader who clearly feels unsafe in the shadow of his own castle is no leader at all. At your side, Alys is cheerful. “I'm glad Lady Moira let Eleyse travel here. I know she gets restless in the Hold.”

You recall Alys' upbringing and Albrecht's insistence on keeping her close at hand in the Capitol. She likely empathizes deeply with Eleyse's situation. “She mentioned it to me, you know, when we passed through the Hold on our way here.”

“She did?” Alys asks. She's clearly concerned.

“I never gave her an answer. Mother has been trying to marry her off, but she doesn't want it. She has an idea in her head.”

“An idea of what, Will?”

“An idea of you, I think. She admires you, Alys.”

She laughs. “That's flattering, dear. But she wouldn't want to trade places with me. Even if she thinks otherwise.”

You nod. “I know. I don't think she knows what exactly you actually went through. She just sees your confidence, your ability. I can hardly blame her for that. After all, those are the things I love about you.”

“Upping the charm today, Will? Tone it down a little, not that I mind. You'll scandalize poor Eleyse. What do you plan to do about her, anyway?”

“I haven't decided. I do think I'm going to take her hunting while she's here. Maybe she will get a taste for it. She needs something to do, and I worry about her.” You scratch your bearded chin in thought.

“I'm sure she will enjoy it. Should I talk to her? Maybe get her to accept the reality of the situation?”

“Couldn't hurt. But be honest with her. Eleyse has always been hard to lie to.”

“Of course, I wouldn't lie to her.” She sounds like the very idea is abhorrent to her.

The party approaching you on the road is made up of about ten of the men at arms from Hold Campbell, along with three women. You recognize Elpest among them, riding near the back of the formation, Eleyse on a horse next to him, chatting amiably with a pleasant looking blonde woman. You dimly recall her as Aeflyn, Elpest's wife. She must have moved up from stablehand to lady-in-waiting if she's here. Good for her, you suppose.

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>>5250426
The parties meet on a rise where the main road widens and splits off into a crossroads, the wider lane allowing both groups to pull up alongside comfortable. You and Alys pull up alongside Elpest, Eleyse, and Aeflyn, as your escort takes the front of the formation to lead the newcomers towards the gates.
You give Elpest a nod. “Elpest, well met.”

“My Lord Campbell, my congratulations to you and Lady Alys.”

“Thank you, and I am glad you got my sister here safely.” He nods respectfully, and moves aside for Eleyse who is riding ahead Aeflyn now and approaching.

Eleyse trots up to you. “Uilleam, Alys! It's so good to see you!” Any previous malaise you saw in her during your last visit seems to have dissipated with the journey.

“Sister, I am glad you could make it. Wouldn't be the same if you weren't here.” You smile at the young woman, who is wearing riding leathers rather than the dresses you remember from home. You can't begrudge her dressing for her little adventure, you suppose.

Alys makes the rare move of removing her hood to beam at the younger girl. “Hello Eleyse, or should I call you sister now as well?”

Eleyse laughs brightly. “If you want, it doesn't bother me. It will be true enough soon.” She turns back to you. “I have what you asked Mother for, Uilleam, I'll hand it over when we get settled.”

“Thank you, I knew I could trust you with that.”

Alys cocks her head in your direction, a questioning look on her face. You didn't tell her about your father's ring. She clearly thinks better about asking about what Eleyse meant, and to her credit your sister was appropriately discreet in her wording. Something else comes up as you ride the winding road back to Barathon. “Eleyse, how is the child?” Alys asks before it even strikes your mind, a misstep you mentally reprimand yourself for. The boy is your son as far as Eleyse knows, after all. At best she might think you cold, at worst she could begin to suspect something. Both are unacceptable to you.

If Eleyse was concerned about it she didn't let it show. “He's a precious little thing! Meera and Ava just adore him. The poor nursemaids have had to throw them both out more than once.”

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>>5250430
“That's good to hear, I'm glad you've all taken to him.” You say, pleased that your family is treating the boy well. Though you never really doubted it. Alys smiles at the two of you, and you think she set you up to weigh in on the subject smoothly, for which you are grateful.

Eleyse leans towards Alys. “Aeflyn has been teaching me to ride better.”

“Is that so?” Alys examines Eleyse's new traveling outfit. “I see you're dressed for it.”

Elpest interjects for a moment. “Aeflyn is a very talented rider. A real natural.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, husband, but Lady Eleyse is coming along very well.” The blonde woman calls out from where she rides somewhat further back.

Eleyse pouts at Alys.“I don't have to wear dresses all the time, you don't seem to hardly ever.”

“I don't mean to disappoint, Eleyse, but I'm not wearing my travel clothes to my own wedding.” Alys quips. You raise an eyebrow. You hardly thought she would be meeting you in the chapel in one of her hooded cloaks, of course. But you surprise yourself by being unable to remember her ever wearing formal dress, or traveling with it. Maybe she contracted someone in Barathon town to make her an outfit? You weren't consulted, but why would you be? Maybe it will be a pleasant surprise.

Your own doublet and family tartan on the other hand will shock no one, but it's tradition after all. No Campbell man would dream of not getting wed in the family colors.

Companionable conversation continues as the walls begin to rise before your party. Your orders to increase patrols in the town are apparent, groups of two or three men at arms or even the occasional cluster of your knights line the streets. Many of them securing the main thoroughfare to the castle proper. The security failures on the first day of your arrival have not been forgotten, and will not be repeated. Eleyse is wide eyed. Barathon dwarfs Hold Campbell. It's even a rival to Althimur Castle, not that she had ever seen the capitol.

“This is yours, Uilleam?” The awe seeps out from her girlish voice.

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>>5250432
“It's the Order's, which means it's the Emperor's, really. I just run it for him.” The interior wall is soon in sight, separating the most secure area of the inner courtyard from the layered curtain walls that protect the central approach to the keep. Friedrich and several of his sworn knights join the escort as you enter the courtyard.

“I still don't know what you all really do here, you know?” She sounds very curious.

“That's deliberate, dear sister. It's a military Order independent of the regular army, and it's my charge. More than that, you shouldn't concern yourself with.” You speak kindly, but Eleyse huffs. You'll have to keep an eye on her, she might try snooping. There is a picture in your head of her running into Salaf in the middle of the night that you find particularly distasteful. You briefly consider having Friedrich and Domlech lock the twisted spymaster in a cell for the night but he seems the type to be vindictive about it.

“I just can't believe how big it is.”

“It's a lot, for sure. Look around us, we have a town within a town here. You can get most things done right here in the castle. There's even a free standing tavern in the walls, which is incidentally where we are having dinner tonight. I've decided to spare you the mess hall, the men can get rowdy.”

“I don't mind rowdy...”

You grunt out a laugh. “Eleyse, you don't know rowdy.”

Sir Friedrich approaches at your signal. “Captain-General?”

“See my sister and her party to the guest wing, if you will.”

Friedrich salutes and dismounts, taking Eleyse's horse by the reigns and leading both it and her to be seen to.

“Uillieam!” Eleyse calls before she can be led away, producing a cloth bundle from her saddle bags. She hands it out to you. “From Mother, remember?” You take it, feeling the weight of a small jewelry box and the telltale shape of an envelope enclosed in the bundle.

>>5250434
“Thanks Eleyse.” You quickly look around to see if Alys is paying attention to the exchange. She seems to be instead studiously examining the winter sky while seeing to her mount. Devious woman.

Friedrich leads Eleyse, Elpest, and the others into the west wing of the keep. There are finely accoutered guest quarters there, so far empty with the exception of Salaf who insisted, and Brassus, who Alys insisted upon. By your reckoning both should both be finishing up their second round of lessons for the day, and you in fact spy Brassus with some of the initiates in the practice fields. Domlech looks on with interest as he seems to be running them through a knife throwing drill. With a sense of inner satisfaction at the progress you've made so far, you enter the keep through the audience hall. Alys had nodded a farewell to you as she followed Eleyse's party, the two chatting like they had been siblings all their lives. This suits you well. While you have faith in Priestess Liotha you would be remiss to not make sure everything is in order for tomorrow before you meet your guests for dinner. And there is one other thing. Before heading to the chapel you open up the cloth and remove both the box and envelope. Unsealing the missive, you recognize your Mother's refined penmanship.

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>>5250438
Uilleam,

As requested I have sent your Father's ring with Eleyse. It was not hard for me to part with it, as I do not feel I ever made peace with the silly thing after he passed into the Depths. It will be better off with you and Alys.

In an ideal world, I could be there to see my only son find his happiness. But we both, as ever, have duty to consider. The Hold and my daughters bind me here. My own parents did not attend the joining of my Duncan and I, but the story there is more regrettable than this one and better left for another time. We were so young, but it was a time of joy despite everything, never doubt that.

Do not ever tell this to your sisters, not even Eleyse, but I had begun to despair of you ever finding a wife. Those years spent on your quest for vengeance against the savages, and then following the Heir around for even more years after you chose to give up that road, they filled me with worry. You are a good man, and duty drives you, but a Mother cannot bear to see their son forgo his own fulfillment for so long. Yet every time you came back from an expedition against the Ard Negh, the light seemed to dim in your eyes. And when you visited in the Heir's company you seemed more alive than ever before. Of course, now we all know why. I am sure you suspected Alys and I have corresponded for some time. To me, it felt like she was the final hope for you to live a full life. She would never agree to push you, no matter what I said. My surprise and joy were immense when she told me of you finally making your own move, the dire context aside. And so I thank the Lady everyday for you two being brought together through our Emperor.

I do not know the details of the duty the Emperor has given you. I do not care to. After all this time it seems you are doing something for yourself, and not just out of obligation. Your father was much like you, but he and I married out of something much greater than necessity.

Sometimes we can do things for ourselves, Uilleam. And I am sure Alys will look amazing wearing the ring.

Do bring Ava something from Althimur next time the two of you are there. A hairpin or some sort. She will not leave me alone about it. And the boy is doing great, as I am sure Eleyse took no time to tell you.

Always your loving Mother,

Moira Bell Campbell, Interim Lady of Hold Campbell

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>>5250442
The letter blurs as you place it back into the envelope for safe keeping. It takes you a moment to realize it's your own tears. Mother had never spoken a word about her parents, or even much about your own father's demise and how it affected her. But here she had laid more bare than you can recall. It's touching, and you are so very glad she has trusted you with all this.

All those years fighting the Ard Negh. You didn't spend those years and lives without cost. You became damn good at it, damn good at war in general. But you missed your sisters' lives. You thrust the Hold on your grieving Mother. She never complained, but other than Eleyse and she you barely know your own family. You used dozens of men like fodder to bring retribution to the savages, was that worth it? Every party you took into their land was one that was not protecting the roads and villages of your homeland. It was one that often came back with half the men who left. You wonder why.

But only for a moment. Because you remember when you pried the sword from your father's dead, stiff hand. Gods or Depths know exactly why his killers didn't loot it. But that day you knew something. Duncan Campbell died with blade in hand, facing his blood foe with everything he had. The bodies of six of the northern berserkers littered the field around him, yards from where the last of his guardsmen fell. And you knew, at that moment, you would accept no less of a death. No man should ever do anything but outshine his Father, if only to make him proud in the afterlife.

Yet you cannot deny your Mother's words. None of it ever fulfilled you. You could have killed raiding parties to the man until the day you died old and alone and none of it would have filled the hole in your heart. Now one of them serves you, and the nature of your duty has changed. On the day you swore to the Heir, you saved Alkaign, Elpest, Alys and the rest. But you now realize they saved you as well.

The old Uilleam was a revenant, a vengeful child piling skulls at the altar of a ghost. Now you are a guardian, driven by honor, duty, and yes, love. For this, who else is to thank than Alys and her brother?

You compose yourself, and put the letter into a side pouch. A short walk brings you to the chapel, where Liotha is finishing a prayer to the Lady of the Depths.

“Captain General. I take it your guests are well settled?”

You give the standard observance to an altar of the Lady of the Depths before responding. “I trust my men implicitly to make it so. I wished to make sure tomorrow is still going to plan, and I also have something to place in your safe keeping.”

You give over the jewelry box. Priestess Liotha takes it, and nods. “Very well, Captain-General. This will be ready for the ceremony. Now, go and join your guests. But be careful not to celebrate too much. Your Betrothed has told me to see you to this hall tomorrow afternoon regardless of your consciousness.”

You don't dare to question that

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>>5250451
Several hours later at the interior wall tavern known as the “Lazy Eye”, you've filled the place with yourself, Alys, Eleyse and her party, and most of the knights. You trust them to be more proper around your sister more than most. On a whim you let Elpest and his wife attend too. Or more that Eleyse begged for her friend Aelflyn to be there and even you would have felt bad telling Elpest no at that point. But if if anyone asks, it was a whim.

You've instructed the Lazy Eye to be cleared out for tonight, your party only. Normally against your somewhat hands-off approach to the men's leisure, you hope the one time nature will limit discontent. After all, for once your mess hall might even be half full without the distraction.

A small table is filled with yourself, Alys, Eleyse, and the ever taciturn Sir Friedrich in a corner. You were surprised when he sat with you, but having given him all but formal recognition as your closest adviser other than Alys herself, you saw no reason to deny him. Alys and Eleyse are often enthusiastically talking, while Friedrich and yourself focus on your dishes as you wait to be directly addressed.

To your surprise, Friedrich occasionally asks your sister about her progress with horsemanship with genuine interest. She warmly informs him about her lessons under Aeflyn. To your complete shock, the man has given her at least several general fond smiles. Friedrich is a great horseman, you have seen this, but to see him being enthusiastic about anything is odd to you.

Alys keeps sneaking cuts of her roast over to you. You don't mind, the afternoon's ride leaving you ravenous along with the general nervousness of the coming day. Her lithe frame has never required much food after all, despite how firm her muscles are, especially the thi-

Focus, Uilleam.

Eleyse sees you redden, and despite lack of context giggles heartily.

Your table is relatively private, so she sees no reason to be vague. “Alys, how did you get through Brother's big head at last? After all you went through we all thought it would happen sooner, you know?”

Alys averts her eyes. She is a consummate deceiver and fabricator, but to family she is like putty. It's an odd dichotomy, but one you are fond of. “He asked me, Eleyse. The circumstance was, uh, extreme?”

>>5250455
She raises an eyebrow, and looks to you. “Extreme, eh, brother?”

You look her right in the eye. This is nothing be ashamed of and she is entitled to no details Alys would not give herself. “Something happened. Something bad. I realized I needed her. Realized I always had needed her, loved her. We fixed the bad, replaced it with something wonderful.. Now I cannot let anything like it happen again.”

Eleyse looks away, clearly put out. “I'm sorry, that was unfair.” Alys hugs her, but you don't follow. Eleyse needs to question you less, your life is your own as head of the household, even if you do make allowances for the girl.

Unexpectedly Friedrich picks up the lull. “Lady Eleyse, please tell me of the fishing on the rivers near Hold Campbell. It's a pastime of mine and I so wish to see it one day.” That's about the most words you have ever seen the man put into a sentence and you can hardly complain. Eleyse, an avid Fisher, gives him an overload of information. You don't even know if his interest is feigned, the veteran seems to hang on the girl's every word.

Blessedly, it takes up most of the night. Everyone has had their fill and it is beginning to get late. Even the very well paid master of the Lazy Eye begins to eye his patrons with some small annoyance or impatience before you insist your guests should retire. Eleyse has too much, again, and Friedrich vows to bring her to her room unharmed. You do not deny him the duty.

Near the end, it's just you and Alys, who have both avoided excess considering your expected duties tomorrow.

“Are you ready to retire, dear?” You ask, remembering her half minded request from before.

“Will, we sleep separate tonight. That's how these things are.”

You do a poor job hiding your disappointment. But it's not wrong, While you have slept together many times by now, there is now more scrutiny. You should not see the bride before she walks to the altar before you in her wedding gown.

“Ah, I had forgot.” You hadn't. “So where?”

“A room next to Eleyse's. And I will stab you if you show up, Will. Won't be fatal. I love you.”

“... I see.” She looks at you in some sympathy before you turn to your own quarters, a haven for a man on his last single night. Your sleep comes quickly.

The servant required to bang on your door for minutes is only relieved when you finally rise and bid him to leave. “Leave the door, I can dress myself!”

Your doublet, tartan, and trousers are in absolute line with tradition. But you do add an icon of the Golden Eye on your shoulder, to show your recent position. The Order must be represented.

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>>5250455
The journey to the chapel is quiet. You have quite limited the participants after all. A small ceremony, you have only allowed friends to be there. Well, and Friedrich. But he is closing in on being your second. Therefore worthy of respect and esteem. Unsurprisingly he took the news with discomfort. Liotha agreed to all of this. The benches are half filled and the stage itself holds your own form in the family tartan and Alys in something that drops your jaw to the floor.

There are thirty men in audience, many of them knights, Eleyse's party, Elpest and others interested. Even Domlech is there, though unseated. You are a little surprised.

But Alys floors you. She didn't order a dress from the town. This fucking masterpiece came from the finest houses in Althimur or you would eat a boot after a long ride. This is Alkaign's doing. The woman always looked good in black. But her dress now is low cut, just above what would be scandal, and the seams carry gems of a purest purple. The only way you even find the way to approach such an ethereal being is the uncharacteristically goofy smile on her face. Which you imagine you mirror with much less charm.

“I am Priestess Liotha of the Lady of the Depths” The clergywoman claims, before handing the box to you.

“We declare that the joining of this man and the Lady Alys Althimur is holy. Their union sacrosanct! May anyone who comes between them be an enemy of the Lady of the Depths.”

You hand the now open box to Alys.

Wordlessly she takes it. She opens it. You place the ring on her finger. What else is there to be said? She wept against you, knowing why this happened. Knowing how badly she wanted it. Knowing how it will likely end. You comforted her, the strongest woman you have ever met, because her tears are the worst punishment imaginable.

After there was applause, the usual congratulations from who had bothered to attend. Eleyse seemed as happy as you had ever seen her. Alys seemed glad the formality was over. You intimated you would make it up to her later, which she took in a certain way,

At the reception, in the mess this time, as you figured the men needed a holiday, bawdy songs and other such things were common. You give them a hardy encouragement. Alys is out with Eleyse again, showing her how to ride through the night if needed.

You're married now, but duty never ends.

Eleyse and her party stay for a week. You take her hunting twice, and also watch over her lessons with Aeflyn. She is becoming a fine horsewoman, and her hunting is not terrible, even with a bow. Maybe she can find a prospective husband she doesn't hate with those skills? Too early to say, but you plan to implore mother to continue these activities if she wishes..

>>5250459
The next few months are uneventful. Eleyse leaves, sadly, and it's hard to let her go again. Elpest gives his word to see her safely back and he does. The training of your first wave of networked spies completes, Salaf telling you he has almost thirty men ready to go with little left to learn. You of course send them out at once. They have some of Brassus' knifework, but not all. Still the former Pit Fighter is confident they could best most street thugs or hired blades. So you send them out.

After all, your last dispatch from capitol is troubling.

Captain-General,

Most southern City States are out of contact. No taxes, no assurances. Ard Negh raids are up. Imperial Patrols face ambush. There is no statement, but I fear the Better World.

Exterminate this threat. I will not preside over the fall of ten generations of Althimur rule.

Emperor Alkaign I Althimur.

There was a small personal note included.

Will-

Make Alys happy. Or I will put you on the same gibbet as the creatures you hunt.

Your friend,

Alkaign


> First wave spy network 3 1d100 DC 75 roll under

Rolled 53 (1d100)

>>5250461
Spys please work

Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>5250461
let's go

>>5250521
I am glad that crits don't override a success.
I am very very glad.

>>5250521
Crit fails haven't really been a thing on this quest but holy shit my dude.

This will have an effect but I'm not Forgotten so no dead kids and the best of 3 still applies.

>>5250527
The effect will be mostly flavor/cosmetic

And for anyone wondering that 3 earlier went to training efficiency. So your first batch are pretty capable. Alys is proud.

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>5250461
Here goes

>>5250521
why can I never roll a nat 100 when it would benefical fuck sake
>>5250527
>This will have an effect but I'm not Forgotten so no dead kids
My disappointment is immeasurable and my day is ruined.

Update tomorrow, buddies had me out late watching The Northman and doing our best to make Monday hell with excessive drinking. Can recommend the movie, not so much the drinking.

>>5250461
interesting quest, good writing, gave us a waifu at the start instead of making us argue for one

don't burn out pls QM

>>5251828

I'm in this for the long run. Just need a day because writing an update with this much beer in you is a terrible idea. I never declared an exact schedule. I try to keep to one a day but Life finds a way. I do appreciate the feedback, hell, any feedback.

And the Alys/Uilleam interactions are my favorite thing in the quest so I apologize if some of you don't enjoy them. I know the extended dialogue can get indulgent.

>>5250521
God damn, dude. That's rough.

>>5251842
On the contrary, QM. Their interactions are my favorite thing as well, and judging by the unanimous marriage choice, I think most if not all anons agree.

One thing to clarify though:
>>5250459
> Unsurprisingly he took the news with discomfort.
Are you talking about Friedrich getting invited, or something else?

Still worried about that fucking satellite.

>>5252030
Friedrich is not a social butterfly. He did take a shine to Eleyse though, which may come up again.

It's not a lot of time before reports from around the Empire start sorting in from your agents. Many things become clear. Not only your closest counselor, but also your wife, Alys has taken to hearing audiences and reports at your side. There are no secrets between you now, after all. It's not good news. Of the provinces, only the central region is relatively stable. The south is in all but open revolt, tax collectors and census takers tend to find bad fates on the desert roads. Word is Alkaign is raising levies to force them to compliance. Yet, you quickly peg this as opportunism rather than some outside interference. The southern cities have ever yearned for independence, and it is not unreasonable they have seen their chance with Albrecht's untimely death. You know Alkaign to be capable, but to many he is an unknown quantity. This brief period of him establishing himself may seem an opportunity. In the west the Horse Clans war yet again, the Imperial Peace ignored in favor of settling age old feuds and blood debts. The east is little better, the great walled cities of the dusty plains giving up their taxes begrudgingly, as their politics tend towards anti-imperial rhetoric and succession. The northern duchies, your own home, seem stalwart, but the savage Ard Negh strike harder than ever. One of your agents has embedded with the Clansmen, and claims all talk of a new Chieftain who seeks to unite the disparate Clans and march south to burn the southern cites to the ground once and for all.

You do note that you only have the resources to go after one problem at a time. And any you neglect will likely worsen as you focus on another. But such is your duty. As of yet your resources are limited. They will grow, and you will grow stronger. For now, however, there can only be one focus. So, in the midst of a particular night, you call your closest councilors together.

“If Brother is mobilizing against the south, he will not want us there.” Alys states with certainty. “If he is the hammer, we are the scalpel, focus on a different target.”

You think for a few moments. “The increased raids do worry me. There might be someone driving them, especially with word of someone uniting the clans. We could infiltrate, and find out what is behind it. The Emperor has spoken he suspects the Better World, and I agree. No one has united the savages in centuries.”

Friedrich opines on his own. “Just because our agents found nothing in the east does not mean nothing is up. Those cities are powerful industrial centers. They have the money and manpower to threaten Althirmur. All they need is the will to do it, and we could see a civil war”

Alys buts in. “You are not wrong, Sir Friedrich, but my mother was of the east. I feel they will not be too harsh on Imperial rule for a while. My brother has been lenient with them in regards to taxes and obligations.”

>>5253070
“And the west?” You ask, tired of the clearly sectarian tirades

“Nothing as of yet.” Alys responds. “Maybe nothing is happening, maybe our men there are incompetent. No way to know unless we check ourselves.”

You have a few options.

> Focus on region

> North

>South

>East

>West

>>5253074
>Focus on North
Assuming what we know is true, the North is probably most pressing as they are the threat most likely to unite and pop off. I'm sure Alkaign is smart enough to negotiate or appease the East into not doing anything soon and we can let the West kill themselves over dumb shit for now

>>5253074
>North

>>5253074
>north

>>5253074
>>5253129
> North.

I agree with this anon's assessment. Let the horse lords kill each other for now, better to focus on the immediate threat. I'd have chosen south, if not for Alys' comment.

>>5253070
>East
While I see that a lot of the anons are keen on travelling North, I must remind you of our strengths. Our agents are mostly focused on urban wetwork and it is clear that there is something rotten in the industrious Eastern Duchies. Be it only political pragmatism coming out of the death of the Emperor or the more insidious ideas of the Better World, there must be a serious root to this rebellious behaviour, behaviour that will definitely grow greater than just tax evasion. The Northern Lords are loyal and, while I believe the fanatics have something to do with this new savage chief, it is an external problem, something I believe our Order is still not equiped to deal with. Let use utilize our strength efficiently and bring the East to heel.

Update tomorrow. Family shit came up.

>>5253074
>North

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>>5253129
>>5253146
>>5253166
>>5253245
>>5255051
The scarcity of news out of the west and east is worrying but going in blind would do you no good. Alys' point on the south is also well taken. The Order should continue to grow naturally before you throw in with Alkaign on what will likely be at least partially a traditional military campaign. You have personal connections in the North even beyond your newfound network, and it would not be seen as unusual for you to travel with a party to the region. By now you are very aware that rumors of your Order have begun to spread and there would be scrutiny. Returning to your home region, especially in the wake of both your wedding and before your Hold is to pay it's tithe to Duke Bertrand, the regional Lord, would allow you to investigate in person with a plausible reason. Once at his seat in Caertheon City you could call on him in the name of the Emperor for aid. Caertheon also is home to several of your new agents, being the only significant urban center in the Northern Duchies and therefore a good fit for the training you had Brassus and Salaf provide.

The decision is made. “We go North, by way of Caertheon. We'll take a small party, and see if the younger Duke Bertrand takes his responsibility as his father did. I can claim I'm visiting my Hold's liege.” Bertrand is young, younger than you. Close to Alys' age he only took up the chair in the last few years. You haven't heard anything untoward about the man, but he's still mostly an unknown quantity. This isn't a time for complacency.

“Well, dear, I won't begrudge getting out and active again. It's a fine castle but you can only walk the same halls for so long. Who should we take with us?” The general lack of activity sitting around Barathon is of course to be expected of your position, but getting back out in the field would do you and Alys good. Neither of you really enjoy being stuck in one place like you have been for the last months. Frankly, it's also waste of both your skill sets. She is one of your greatest field assets and you have ever led from the front.

Friedrich coughs. “I should go. And your pet savage. He might be useful among his own. I can recommend enough of the knights that you won't draw too much attention or offend the Duke with too much force. Perhaps the three of us, Domlech, and four others.”

>>5257082
Alys nods at your side. “That should work. Is this an official visit, Will? Or should we forgo the Order tabards? The knights still have their colors from the Imperial Household and you your tartan. I assume Domlech will probably be assumed to be a hired guide. Of course, I am simply your fair, dainty wife.”

You grunt at that, and even Friedrich averts his eyes for a moment. “We'll go incognito for now. Time will come that option is gone, at least for ourselves. May was well make use of it. We can always reveal the truth when we have Bertrand's measure”.

Friedrich stands. “By your leave then, Captain-General, I will select the men and name an interim leader for the remaining knights.” He salutes, you return it, and he walks out with purpose to see to it.

Alys allows herself to lounge more casually in her seat as the overly formal knight leaves. “So, care to wager on Domlech? Tavern or Practice field?” You rub the bridge of your nose.

“Normally I'd say no one's crazy enough to to fighting in the yard in the dark, but for him? Flip a coin.” The woman gives you a dubious look of mock offense as you rise and offer your hand to help her up. She takes it and you both head out into the night to find the northern clansman, two of your guards following with torches. Despite your previous thought, the man isn't in the training yard. Which means the Lazy Eye, where he basically lives near as you can tell. Of course, he's not actually within. The torches reveal a slumped figure between the tavern and the stables, and you reach for a blade before noting his slow rise of breath. Fight all day, drink all night, work off the booze in the morning. You almost admire the sheer simplicity of the man's existence.

One of the men at arms approaches. “Captain-General? Would you like us to wake him?” You shake your head.

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>>5257084
“Better not, I doubt he'll rouse happy.” You figure you'll let him sleep it off, your group won't be ready to head to the Duchies until tomorrow any-

There is a splash of water and a slurred roar as Domlech staggers to his feet soaked. Alys stands a few feet away with a now empty bucket of water from the nearby stables, and a shit eating grin on her face. Depths, she really must have been bored lately. To his credit the Ard Negh ceases his sputtering and flailing when he sees it's you and Alys who roused him.

“Gods take ye, woman! Can't a man nap as he pleases?”

Alys shrugs. “Not in my courtyard, he can't. It's bad for appearances.” Her grin remains, taking the bite from the reprimand.

You clear your throat. “Get your things together and sober up, Domlech. We're paying your fellow Clansmen a visit and I want you with us when we do. We leave tomorrow.”

“Aye, Chief, aye. It's damned cold, Gods woman.” He shivers as he walks back to the stables. Is that where he sleeps? Makes sense, his people don't really like being between solid walls.

The two men at arms shift uncomfortably at the antics, but you've done what you needed to do tonight. Heading back into the keep you place an arm around your Wife's shoulders and draw her close. “If he falls sick on the road I think it will be on you, Alys.”

“What kind of northman can't handle a chill? It's spring now anyway, he's probably sweating in this warmth.” It's not particularly warm of a night but you don't bother correcting her. You dismiss the guards as you enter the hall and head for your quarters. Only the Seneschal and the last dregs of the staff are still about, so no one really runs into the both of you as you come to the tower staircase.

“Is this how you get when you're bored?” You ask, leaning against the wall next to the stairs.

You raise an eyebrow as she removes her hood and begins to undo her braid, letting her long hair fall to below her shoulders. “Maybe. I always had to make my own fun, as you well know.” She steps by you and up the first of the twisting stairs, close enough to brush your shoulder. She turns back, the mischievous grin back on her fair face. “So, if you don't want me making my own fun on the journey...” She begins taking the stairs ever so slowly. “...come entertain me.”

Like a man walking into the melee at the Imperial Tournament, you march up without a word, preparing for battle.

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>>5257088
The next day finds your party on the road, all eight in loose formation. The snows near Barathon are almost all gone, but you expect them to return as you move further north towards your destination. Domlech seems mostly recovered, if a bit more sullen than his usual boisterous self. Friedrich and his knights keep their usual professional silence. Alys seems very pleased to be on the road, or maybe because her devious mind takes some twisted satisfaction that you didn't much sleep before leaving in the morning. You think you may have put out your back as well. She eventually takes mercy on your clear discomfort and hands over one of her many concoctions. It tastes subtly of alcohol but manages to both dull your aches and wake you up from your morning stupor.

“What was in that one?” You ask, suppressing a belch as you hand the emptied bottle back to her.

“Trade secret. And you wouldn't like if I told you, Will. Just take the small mercies.” Discretion is the better part of valor when women hand you mysterious brews, you decide.

You ride for two days, during which you insist on actual rest despite someone in particular's protestations, before Domlech calls a halt. Your small, speedy party is already approaching the passes into the Northern Duchies. “Ye don want to take the trade roads, Chief. If the boys are raiding more than usual that's where they will hit. Snow's melted, they'll be ranging further south than last year. I know some old paths, my Da scouted them out back when he lead the Clan. It'll be slower.” He gives you and ambiguous look. “And ye will have to trust me. There ain't a way your Southerners will ever find em.”

Friedrich rides up. “I disagree. Trust aside, we can move much faster on the trade roads. We don't look to be merchants, so we might not draw in any thievery. If we do, we can outrun them with a group this swift.”

Domlech spits from his horse. You are a little shocked he actually learned to ride the last few months. At around the ability level of a child, but you didn't think he would bother. “Bah, you southern men with your iron and your horseflesh. Bullheaded, the lot of you.” Friedrich does not dignify a response.

Alys weighs in. “I say we trust him, Will. This is what his people do, no?”

You nod. “Spent half my life killing them for it.”

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>5257090

>Take Friedrich's Advice

>Trust Domlech's Raid Paths

> Write in

>>5257090
>>Trust Domlech's Raid Paths

May as well trust his expertise

>>5257090
>Trust the raid paths

>while I am aware you don't like it Friedrich, I think you would dislike it more if I picked up more savage bondsmen.
just a joke to pass the time.

>>5257168
+1

>>5257091
>>5257168 +1

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You decide Domlech has the right of it. Better than most, you know his people have been masters of these passes more than even your own local forces ever could be. The Ard Negh make many sacrifices to live the way they do, but as guides and woodsmen? Unparalleled. You nod at the bondsman, before turning to Friedrich who looks on with faint disapproval.

“I am aware you don't like it, Friedrich. Yet I think you would dislike it more if I were to acquire a corps of such bondsmen?” You say, trying to hide your mirth.

He grimaces. “At least this one kept around without trying to kill anyone. Yet. I can live with it.” He shrugs at Domlech, who shrugs back.

“Joyed for yer approval, southerner.” He spits again, as is his habit.

“I do not approve of anything of yours, savage.” Riding on, and for some time after that, you and Alys share concerned looks.

It is some hours further before you arrive at another stop. Domlech indicates a path, narrow and steep. “The boys and I took this on by foot, but nothing stoppin' us from walking the beasts.”

Friedrich looks extremely uneasy. A horse is not only one of a knight's most valued possessions, that are also effectively a station of office and often a friend. His nervousness spreads to the other knights.

You begin to encourage him, but Alys preempts you. “Sir Friedrich, is the oath of your men so weak that a rocky cliff is too much for them? All the years I watched you training with brother and beating these very men into shape! Was it all for nothing, Sir?

The look on the knight's face is less shock than horror. “Knights! The Captain-General has commanded us and we shall obey!” No green peasants, they submit, but you will never claim that their current duty was done with enthusiasm.

You nod to your wife in admiration. “You ever thought of leading troops?” You choose, this once, that her aid can be a boon with leading men. Many of them are awed by her, be it her lineage, her skills, or her undeniable beauty.

She smiles, lighting up the late afternoon with her blindingly white teeth. For you, every time is like the first time, years ago. “I gave the agents some advice, and I read their letters first. You lead the sword-brains, dear, and the spies will get to you through me.” For a second you take offense, but while a wily commander, you are no spy. And there is no one person in this world you can trust more than Alys after what you have done together. “One thing, look out for coins. Coins with an eye. They were gifts for the graduates, sown into their traveling clothes. You can prove it's one of them that way, assuming they weren't found out.

“What if the enemy gets hold of them?” You ask.

She smiles. “Thought of that. There are imperfections in each. It was only 30, so I memorized them all. We'll need a better system eventually, but I can see any impostors we run into for now.”

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>>5257990
You scratch your chin, and Alys clearly begins to giggle at how common the habit is for you.

She speaks up. “Still, if we're taking Domlech's paths, better not to waste to time.”

“Yes, of course.”

You all dismount and take the horses by their leads. Heading up the path is not much trouble for you or the men, and especially not Alys, but the horses do have issues. Luckily, most of you have riding experience. The horses are kept in line, Friedrich surprisingly stepping in to aid Domlech when he loses nearly all control of his mare and the animal is seconds away from plummeting to it's demise. He even expresses his gratitude.

Thirty minutes into the climb, you unfortunately hit a snag.

“Gobshite.” Spits Domlech, as the rest of you gaze on the remains of a small caravan, being picked over by men in furs and armed with rough axes and falchions.

“I thought this path was safe, Domlech?” Alys says, clearly disappointed in having put her faith in the man.

“It was, woman. It is. We're thirty yards above the bastards. But ye let one damned pebble loose, they'll be on us like night wolves.” Domlech scowls. It's clear he did not expect this outcome.

“There are twenty of them. We can't fight that, not without losing more than we were prepared to.” Friedrich adds. His men do a fine job of hiding their nervousness. He glares back at Domlech. “And I will not bother taking a wager on who will alert them.”

“Enough.” You state, and look to Alys. She looks as uncertain as you feel. You are a fine warrior, Alys is a ghost with her knife, and Friedrich and his men are the epitome of Imperial Chivalry. Yet, if this ha come to a fight, who knows what the brigands have in store? They had time to prepare the field, their raiders have long looted Imperial longbows, and their savagery is undeniable. Then there is Domlech. He led you here. So far you have given the giant a modicum of trust, but what if this is the plan? To end the Campbells once and for all after slaying your Father?

>>5257993
> Avenge the convoy

> Attempt to avoid the raiders

> Approach and gain intelligence.

> Turn back, take the trade roads

>>5257995
>Attempt to avoid the raiders

I do also want to note all of you not taking notice of the UNRELATED FOUR POSTER BED gag will be on the final exam.

>>5257995
>Attempt to avoid the raiders

>>5257995
>>5257995
>Avoid the raiders.

>>5257993
>Attempt to avoid the raiders

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You turn to Domlech. “I'm trusting you, clansman. If you breach it, I will have no second thoughts slaying you even if it means my head. My mission, and my family, are in your hands.”

Domlech nods, takes out a dagger, and slits his palm. He lets the blood fall upon the thin snow of the pass. “Let this be me bond, Chief. If I turn against ye, I be a coward, traitor, and a beast.” He spits again, but stamps it into the ground in some sort of ritual. “The Gods know the vow.”

“Heathen” Friedrich scoffs, and makes the sign of the Lady of the Depths. Domlech rolls his eyes, but does nothing else about the flouting of his Gods. The lack of internecine violence is nothing you want to interfere in, so you leave the two men's enmity alone. Alys once again sends you a concerned glance, but you simply shrug. It should even out.

You soon leave the caravan raid behind. You say a silent prayer for them, but you arrived too late to be of use. The thought assuages you as you begin to leave behind even the evidence of the massacre. Your duty is greater. But every Ard Negh raid you have ever seen hurts you. Dead people who had no idea why they died. Dead guards. Occasionally, dead lords. Your father, the sword clenched in his palm. It was a an odd killing, no beheadings, trophies. The weapons left where they lie. Your own blade was Father's. It will be your son's. No matter if they are born of Alys or simply the bastard of Campbell Hold. And you have no idea what led even you to hold it.

There is no one else on the road. These paths are seldom used, being hotspots for Ard Negh raiders after all. But Domlech leads you true and sure, bypassing areas where his people were known to lay traps or blockades, giving you a clear way forward. It is longer than the trade road of course, but several days in you are assuaged of the man's intentions and capability. He is an excellent guide, even given his unfamiliarity with riding.

You almost put the danger out of your mind as you approach Caertheon. Almost. But you, as vigilant as you strive to be, are not the paranoiac of your party. Alys speaks to you on the third day. “My Love, we are being followed.”

An attempt is made to not immediately manifest the worry that rises in you. You hope it takes. “You're sure?”

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>>5260369
“I am. I think Domlech is too focused on pathfinding to notice. Friedrich is a good knight, but these things are not what he's trained for. Yet Salaf taught me well. Always have an eye on your back, and I've seen figures at ours three times today. One or two might just be coincidence, Will, but three means someone is trailing us.”

“Do you think it's the raiders of that trade caravan?” You ask.

She shakes her head. “No idea. But they seemed busy with their loot. No reason to die in another raid when you already got yours, right? I don't know who they are, but I doubt their intentions for us are good. And they are close enough to strike whenever they wish.”

You lean over from your horse and kiss her on the lips as she rides beside you, her eyes widening in surprise. “I love you for many reasons, Alys, but I guess saving us from ambush is one more on the pile.”

Ignoring the sputtering cough from Friedrich and a cheer from one of the knights behind you two in formation, she replies. “I-I suggest an ambush of our own. Even if it's the full twenty from the raid party, we'll have initial advantage. I've seen you fight, dear, you're worth five men. Between us, we should be able to handle it.

You nod. “I'll consider it. Sir Friedrich! Your opinion?”

The veteran seems to consider for a moment. “If we about face and charge at them we could scatter them, but we'd have to take the right opportunity or else they will simply fade into the woods and find another opportunity before we reach the city.”

Domlech himself speaks up. “If it's a clan worth their tartan, they'll be formidable. Better to run. Ye beat them to the walls the bastards won't dare follow ye inside. We've never taken that damn town, two score raiders sure as the Gods' will won't.

“So, fight, ambush, run.” They look at you with grave expressions. Fighting or ambushing your tail might result in casualties, and reinforcements will be a long time coming. Running seems an easier choice, but if the men tracking you prove the better horsemen, you will be in a pitched battle with no advantage.

> Alys is right, you put together a stratagem to form an ambush.

> Friedrich has the right of it. A mounted party will scatter any threat and bring you a clear path to the city.

> Domlech is right, you ride for the walls. Already trailing the party, they will balk when you reach the walls.

>>5260373
>Alys is right, you put together a stratagem to form an ambush.

>>5260373
>>> Alys is right, you put together a stratagem to form an ambush.

>>5260373
> Alys is right, you put together a stratagem to form an ambush.

>>5260373
>Ambush

We are on narrow mountain roads. We can nullify their numbers advantage with the right terrain.

>>5260373
>> Alys is right, you put together a stratagem to form an ambush.

If they are not simple opportunists they'll simply formulate another plan if we give them the slip.

Busy streak continues for me. If everything goes well I'll have time tomorrow. Apologize, hell of a month so far.

>>5262670
No problem, QM. Important shit goes first. Good luck on your endeavours!

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Rolled 92 (1d100)

“Alys has the right of it. The pass is still narrow, even if they don't have horses they can only come a few abreast. Dismount, and follow her direction.” You lower your voice. “I hope you have some specific ideas, my idea of battlefield trap craft begins and ends at cavalry spikes and caltrops.”

She laughs. “Husband, don't pretend you didn't bother to learn just because you prefer playing with swords.”

You shrug, and she begins looking into her bag of tricks. More figures begin appearing behind your party. To your dismay, some are mounted. The clansmen do not tend to use mounts, an odd thing to see .The knights send the horses ahead so they don't bolt and ruin your cohesion in the closer quarters. Under Friedrich's direction the men then take a close formation to your front, bodily blocking the pass with their heavy shields. Friedrich reaches into his overlarge travel pack and tosses caltrops to the front of the line, to your surprise.

Alys points to a large rock up the wall of the pass. “Domlech, how's your climbing?”

“A clansman can climb afore he walks, woman.”

She holds up a vial. “This is a solvent mixture from the beyond the eastern sea. I don't have much of it. If you drop it on yourself, your flesh will slough off. If you drop it and come back, I'll make sure you wish you had that mercy. Place it behind the rock, somewhere we can see from here.”

The northman nods. “Aye.”

The lead figures close the distance, and you draw your own sword. With your greater reach you should be able fight from behind the line of knights effectively, filling holes in their battle cohesion. As you ready yourself, Alys puts a hand on your shoulder and nods. “If this works, it should make their numbers manageable. Trust me.”

Your free hand meets hers for a moment. “Always.”

Domlech takes two hand axes out rather than his usual greataxe, and uses them as makeshift climbing tool, Alys' vial between his teeth like a sea raider's knife. He places the vial safely, but remains up the steep incline, crouched as if ready to pounce.

You shake your head. “Joining us, Domlech?”

“Aye. When the time is right, Chief.”

The approaching group is clearly dressed in Ard Negh fashion, but the mixed formation of infantry and horsemen is highly unusual. By your count, there are perhaps four mounted and eight dismounted. They have to try to break through if their intentions are hostile as you expect, though the pass opens up ahead you have picked the last possible choke point that will even the odds and prepared it best you can.

With a thunder, the mounted foes rush towards your line. The infantry follow behind at a jog, some preparing javelins and slings.

“Men, the wall must hold, if the cavalry get behind us we'll regret it. You call out, bracing yourself.” The caltrops and the stone await the foe, but they could still notice it in time...

(cont after roll for rider's perception)

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>>5263755
...luckily for you, they don't. There are whinnies of agony as the horses run through the deployed hazards, and you look to see if any topple. Caltrops are not entirely reliable after all. Two of them do, tumbling and sending their riders to the ground. One bounces, and himself disappears off the deep drop off opposite the cliff wall, trailing a scream.

Alys waits for her chance as the enemy infantry. approach the same area of the pass, but you have little time to focus on it as the two remaining horsemen slam into the line with a clattering impact, their spears levelled. The battle is joined.

>Roll for combat results

Uilleam
>1d100 DC 75

Alys
>1d100 DC 80

Friedrich
>1d100 DC 70

Knights
>1d100 DC 60

>Roll for Domlech to fucking jump for it
>1d100 DC 50

>For the purposes of these rolls you may pick one, first come first serve

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>5263771
>>Roll for Domlech to fucking jump for it

>>5263781
Alas, too close to the sun

Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>5263771
>Knights
Lets see what these Knigits are made of.

>>5263821
Damn anon, you are precise

Rolled 40 (1d100)

>>5263771
>Ulliam

Let's see

Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>5263771
>Alys
And wifey

>>5263839
You are very lucky that her roll was just for activating the rock trap

>>5263839
. . Fuck.

Must resist overwhelming urge to delete self. Because holy fucking shit.
Uhh. I guess we just have to hope that QM declares the roll illegal or invalid, otherwise it is goodbye wife.

>>5263841
Àaaaaaaaaaaah, relief.

>>5263839
Hey wait, you already rolled! Give the others a chance.

Should have mentioned this should be one per. Like the combat roll in the abandoned house last thread. I kinda did with "pick one, first come first serve" but I can see the possible ambiguity.

Yes, this means Alys still needs a roll.

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>5263771
Let's go then

>>5263954
Forgot to mention this will be for alys, sorry I didn't read the whole thing

>>5263954
>>5263955
I got the picture, no mind. cutting it close but that's a pass.

I don't do roll heavy posts much so I have no issue if people get confused, there will likely be 3 or so per thread.

Just remember that everything is roll even or under and that if I say something like "Pick one" I dont mean come back three minutes later and do a different roll on offer. No offense to the guy involved, really on me.

Someone needs to roll for Friedrich and we are golden. Give it a few hours before you get antsy, /qst/ is slow and this isn't fanfiction so we are not fast. Nothing wrong with that.

Rolled 61 (1d100)

>>5263771
Come on Fried Rice

All votes locked in, cut it close but all passes save for Domlech guided missile. Will post tomorrow. It's late.

Sorry for the earlier confusion.

If you guys had somehow managed to double hundred Alys I would have broke out the scotch and started depression writing.

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>>5264030
Two of the knights are forced back, a horseman passing through to the back line, only to be met by Friedrich who has retrieved his greatsword. Slowed by the impact, the enemy cannot do anything about the senior knight's overhead swing with the large blade. Missing the rider, it all but decapitates his mount, sending the man to the ground. He recovers quickly, only to take the point of your retainer's blade in his chest as he rises. After driving the blade deep enough to be fatal, the knight kicks the raider from the weapon. With a silent scream the corpse falls back and disappears over the edge of the narrow passage, joining the other who saw the steep fall. The knights who were forced back quickly reform as Friedrich cleans the chunky gore from bloodstained weapon. The remaining horseman strains against the section of the wall behind which you stand, inflicting multiple wounds on your men, finding gaps in their armor and shield wall with precise stabs of his spear, but the probing stabs of the knights eventually spook his horse, causing it to rear and kick out. The knights waste no time in plunging their blades into the beast's belly, and it collapses backwards, crushing it's rider. The man screams the high keening of the maimed for too long before one of your men gives mercy and finishes him with a downward thrust.

The infantry by now have fractionally decreased their pace as they charge forward, careful to not step on the oversize cavalry caltrops themselves. However, their caution back fires. Alys lets out a particularly sanguine giggle to your side before a knife blurs past your vision and towards where Domlech had placed the vial. As expected, the throw finds it's mark, and you hear an audible alchemical hiss even from your position. You remember such sounds from when she works her mixtures in camp or your quarters at Barathon. What did she call it? Solvent? Should loosen the ro-

You nearly jump out of your armor as an ear splitting crack pierces the din of the charging infantry. The rock is half pulverized, and sent down the side of the cliff side at the now panicking enemy infantry. It reminds you of the clustered rocks sometimes utilized in sieges. Fully half of their number are shredded into mincemeat, or carried over the side of the cliff by larger fragments. However the blast also has thrown Domlech off balance, and he falls from his perch, tumbling rapidly and painfully to the path. He rises, somewhat behind the enemy, but exhibits an extremely pronounced limp in his right leg alongside many light wounds from the craggy surface.

You look incredulously at Alys. “THAT was a solvent!?”

She stares at the carnage in awe. “Xia Chen gave me the recipe. It's what she said. Language barrier, maybe?” Her voice is but a whisper.

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>>5265203
You shake your head, but you can't argue with results, even if Domlech may have cause to. The remaining four foes, to their credit, regain their discipline and resume the charge. The hobbled Domlech is left behind despite his furious war cries, his damaged legs simply unable to carry him to the speed he requires. It's not long before the enemy impacts the wall. But now you have the numbers as well as the position. To your surprise, the enemies hold for a moment and throw javelins, one grazing Friedrich on the shoulder and the others impacting shields, yet another unorthodox tactic for Ard Negh raiders. Their projectiles spent, they engage your knights. Hand on the left shoulder of the man in front of you, steadying him, you use your other to stab over and through the shield wall when able. The enemy fight savagely with their long axes and swords, but to no avail. One by one, they take mortal wounds and fall, until at last the final remaining manages to disengage and run back whence they came while dodging the slowed Domlech. Domlech throws one of his hand axes with a rage filled scream, and for a moment you believe it will find home. But it lands several feet ahead of, and several feet to the right, of the fleeing raider. It's not long before he's far enough away that chasing him is impractical.

“Search them.” You command, and the Knights and Friedrich set about giving the fresh corpses a once over as you clean the blood from your sword. Less than you thought. You have to give it to Alys, her plan worked very well, even if it turned out differently than expected.

Domlech limps over. “Chief, I'll be slowing ye down a bit.”

You shrug. “We're almost there Domlech, just stay mounted.” The big man nods with a wince.

“Let me look at it.” Alys says, and Domlech pales as he did the first time your wife treated his wounds. She examines the worse of the legs for a moment, eliciting a harsh hiss from the warrior when she tests the extension of his knee joint. She looks grim. “This is bad, Will. He needs to stay off it when we get to the Caertheon. For a while. A few days at least.”

“Like hell, woman.” Domlech snarls.

She gives him the same aggravated glare you've received every time she's treated you. It warms your heart.

“Best listen to her, seeing as how I'm making it a command.” You say, suppressing a grin.

“... aye, Chief.” He grumbles, pouting like a child.

About then, Friedrich approaches. “Nothing out of the ordinary on them, Captain-General.”

You grimace. “Something is wrong here. They didn't fight like northerners, no matter what they're wearing. And those horsemen had some skill, not just some berserker taking a joyride. You recognize the breed of beast, Friedrich.”

He thinks for a moment. “Looks like a western breed, like the horselords prefer, but hardier. Bred with a steppe pony perhaps, for the elements.

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>>5265205
You nod in agreement. “Like my thoughts then, purpose bred for the area. We need to know more. I feel the answers may lie at Caertheon. Gather the mounts!” He salutes and directs the knights. In moments your party is mounted again and on your way, leaving the freezing corpses of your ambushes behind you. The pass soon evens out to a vast, and in this spring, partially green, tundra. The land is so desolate and flat that Caertheon is visible on the horizon, despite still being many miles away. And another thing is visible as well.

“Lady, save us.” You say, appalled. The chief city of the Northern Duchies seems intact, it's high oaken walls tall and strong as ever. But the outlying villages are a different story. Dozens of smoke clouds rise into the sky, some clearly recent. Yet there is no besieging army, no rampaging foe. And no host of the colors of the Duke responding. You are in disbelief. “I understand the passes, but what lord watches his demesne burn from his keep, mere miles from his walls? I am convinced, there is some kind of treachery about in Caertheon, the garrison there is hundreds of men and dozens of knights. I doubt they were defeated in the field and the city left intact.”

Friedrich looks disgusted. “I know little of your northern ways, but if I were to intercede with a lord who had failed so I would demand his head in my first missive back to Althimur.”

You grimace. “Oh, my brother, I do not plan to bother with the missive.”

Alys coughs. “If you two are done competing about who is outraged more, let's think on this. None of it makes sense. Even if the raiders are united as never before, the garrison is strong enough to defend the closest settlements. Yet they all burn. There is no sense here! We need to investigate, not just march in and demand the Duke's head.”

You pass a burned inn, bodies littered across the cold ground. This one's flame has been quenched with time. This does not stop your observant eye from noting the number of corpses in rough spun peasant dresses, placed next to each other in an artificial row. Their skirts left hiked up where their assailants had surely left them once they were done. You imagine, their throats cut after. Two of the figures are far, far too small to have been adults.

You think of your two youngest sisters, and your knuckles clench white beneath your gauntlets.

Even Domlech scoffs. “Ill omen, that. Displeasing to the Gods. Take em as war brides, sure, but cutting their throats after some fun? What a waste. When I ran things I-”

“SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.” You growl, your companions looking at you in surprise. Alys rides next to you and places a hand on your shoulder.

>>5265210
“Calm, Will, calm. We will get justice for this. For all of this. But you need to think clearly.”

She's right, but the moral core of your being roils. The old hate is coming back. Why did you ever leave that path? You leave the savages for a few years, a measly break, and they manage this. Fucking roaches. Your oath meant nothing, you should have piled the corpses for decades, a century, as long as it took. Until every last fucking one of them was-

“Will!” Alys has been trying to talk to you the whole time. You force the bile down. That was who you were, not who you have to be any more. You have her now. You have duty. She speaks more softly. “Knowing what we know, my love, how do we enter? We will be at the walls in under an hour at this pace.” Her eyes burn with concern. There is no doubt your mental state will be followed up on later. “I have only one suggestion, Will. Abandon the original plan. We need to find up what the Duke is doing before we deliver ourselves to him. If this is his doing, our stay will be short and violent if we meet with him unprepared.”

You see the outlines of guards at the top of tall palisades, furthering your confusion and barely contained rage. One calls down. “Halt! Who goes there!?”

>Stick to the plan. Your real identity, here for the tithe to your liege Duke

>Remain anonymous, attempting to avoid immediate notice of the Duke

>Establish Imperial authority. Risky as anything, likely only a good idea if you trust the Duke

> Remembering the clothing of your men, you concoct a tale on the spot. Imperial knights led by a minor lord, seeking shelter as they hunt raiders. Not even far from the truth overall.

>>5265215
>Remembering the clothing of your men, you concoct a tale on the spot. Imperial knights led by a minor lord, seeking shelter as they hunt raiders. Not even far from the truth overall.

>>5265215
>Concoct a story hunting raiders.
>It seems we came too late.

>>5265249
>>5265328

Seems like a slow weekend. I'll have something up tonight so if anyone is lurking this your last heads up to get a vote in.

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>>5265249
>>5265328
You shout up at the man as you approach the gates. “We heard of the raids and made north to see if we could make some impact. I gathered these Imperial Knights who were close at the time, their oath requires them respond to such trespasses. Seems we were too late. I seek shelter in the walls, and offer our aid with your current troubles.”

The guard's face is not quite clear given the distance, but you see the shrug. “Duke says it will all work out, you may have wasted your time, friend.”

His tone is completely casual. You cannot quite believe your ears. The countryside is aflame, his subjects are being murdered and raped. No lord would ever be of the opinion they had this in hand. From what you knew of him, certainly not the previous Duke. By the Depths, the man can see the smoke!

Alys shoots you a warning look. An outburst here could be fatal to your mission. You force calm upon yourself. “Perhaps, friend. But if all is in hand, we may enter with no issue, yes? I have Imperial travel documents if needed.”

You can not quite hear the man's sigh. “Well, I suppose it's fine. The inns and stables will appreciate the business. Let them through!” He signals to another man out of view, and you hear the iron chains drawing the massive studded oak doors apart for your party to come into Caertheon.

Caertheon is a lively city. You remember that much from your last time here, as an adolescent your Father brought you along to deliver the tithe. To prepare you for when that duty would be yours. Little did he know you would delegate that task in your tenure. But your unease grows as you travel deeper. The people happily chat and excitedly barter goods, despite the horror outside the walls. But you also note, that every now and then, they stop and stare and gape at seemingly nothing. Far off expressions, like they forgot where they are for a moment. And then the smiles return, and normality resumes. You have never quite seen something like it. “This is unnerving.” you state lowly.

To your side Alys nods. “It's like everyone here is traumatized, but responding with the same coping strategy.”

You raise an eyebrow.

She rolls her eyes. “Will, no one gets trained in torture without knowing how the mind processes pain. But this is strange, you are right. It's, well, universal.”

To be honest, you can often forget your caring wife is fully trained and capable to flay a man over the course of weeks for information. Sometimes she reminds you. “Suggestions, Alys?”

“I know where our agents are stationed. They have not been here long but I suspect that might be an asset, rather than a hindrance. It's a tailor's shop in the garment quarter. I can take you there, leave quartering the men and securing stables to Friedrich.”

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>>5268193
You command Friedrich to do so, and he sets about it typically without comment. He even tasks a man to bring Domlech to a surgeon. The northman has to be ordered by you to submit to such treatment, but say what you will, the man has not defied you so far. He goes, begrudgingly.

You smile at Alys. “Lead the way, dear.” There is still a sense of satisfaction that despite everything now between you, she noticeably reddens at the endearment.

The garment quarter is considerably more working class than the pristine shops lining the main trade avenues webbing out from the gate via which you entered Caertheon. Hardly a slum, it does in general remind you far more of the salt of the earth villages in and around Hold Campbell than the relative opulence of the Ducal capitol you have seen so far. It's not long before you arrive at the storefront Alys was leading you to, somewhat cheekily tiled Phantom Thread Tailoring.

You give her side eye. “A little on the nose, isn't it?”

She giggles in that embarrassingly girlish way you've grown accustomed to. “Apparently it's a tailor thing, I had them apprentice for a month so they could take on this cover. I hear they're halfway competent.” She hitches her horse and hops off, heading to the door. “Come on, I'll introduce you.” Her hood has been down since you entered town, her braid flowing in the harsh northern winds that chill the streets of Caertheon. Outside of your bedroom, it's the longest you have seen her red locks uncovered. It excites you in a way that is faintly absurd, considering.

You enter behind Alys, a man near a wooden counter is comparing two differently worded rolls of dyed fabric before he looks up at your entrance. He is heavyset and unremarkable, the spitting image of a moderately successful tradesman.

“May I help you, Sir? Good woman?” He was trained in Barathon, and certainly knows who you both are on sight. But you cannot begrudge is adherence to his cover. There is no one else in the shop to be suspicious.

Alys speaks first. “My husband and I have a special order. I was hoping this would suffice.” She places a coin of odd design on his counter. His countenance immediately changes as he produces his own, subtly different, counter part. There is an unspoken understanding.

“Official visit then? Come to the back, my Lady, Captain-General.” He passes behind a cloth veil into the back rooms of the shop, and the both of you follow. In the back is a loom with a slight woman working at it, and piles of completed and half completed clothing scattered about in numerous baskets. She looks up from her work, a middle aged woman with a pleasant if somewhat worn look, and a pipe in her mouth. She raises an eyebrow at the man. “It's official, Cerys.” He turns to you and Alys again. “This is my wife, Cerys. You may call me Khraig. We are, as ever, at your service.”

>>5268197
Alys smirks. “I do not recall any mention of your marriage in your dispatches, Khraig.”

The somewhat portly man sputters. “Didn't affect the work, My Lady, didn't feel it relevant.” He won't meet her eyes, or yours. Cerys looks at him with a hint of reproach.

She removes the pipe and frowns. “Only a matter of time I suppose. What would you have of us, Captain-General?”

You speak up. “We have a number of questions.”

> Your first inquiry will double as your first active action in this investigation. The other's will be asked, but followed up on later.

>Tell us of the new Duke. What is his reputation, what has he said about the threat of raiders?

>What is this malaise the town is under, where joyous behavior seems to hide deep injury

>Why has the garrison not been deployed even to the nearest, most easily defended settlements?

>Is there further word from the operative who has embedded with the Ard Negh Clans? Who is the new uniter of the warring tribes?

>Write in

>>5268206
>What is this malaise the town is under, where joyous behavior seems to hide deep injury

>>5268206
>What malaise the town is under.

>>5268206
>What is this malaise the town is under, where joyous behavior seems to hide deep injury

>>5268206
>>Why has the garrison not been deployed even to the nearest, most easily defended settlements?

>>5268206
>What is this malaise the town is under, where joyous behavior seems to hide deep injury

>>5268206
>What is this malaise the town is under, where joyous behavior seems to hide deep injury?

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>>5268226
>>5268286
>>5269160
>>5269426
>>5269552
You begin. “There is something wearing down on the people here. I see them staring into the distance, looking pale and haunted. These are not the things you see in a normal town. Yet they put on a good show, it's like everyone is trying to put on a face. I would understand it, if you could help me.”

Khraig looks conflicted. “We noticed it too, when we arrived. Odd behavior. Thought to put it in the missives. But maybe it's a regional thing? After all, the Duke says it will all work out.”

You scoff. “And you trust his word?”

He looks surprised, but you notice a moment where he looks away as if remembering something unpleasant. “Why would I not, Captain-General? His weekly addresses are the talk of the city. Truly a fine orator, and very open with the people. Maintains morale. Am I not right Cerys?”

She looks at her husband disdainfully. “Wouldn't be caught dead at one of those masturbatory gatherings, the Duke is clearly a narcissist. Captain-General, whatever is happening here has it's roots in the Ducal palace. Mark my words.”

Khraig looks horrified, but says no more. He eventually excuses himself, noting that Cerys can answer your questions as well as he.

“Excuse Khraig, he's a good man. But I fear whatever grips Caertheon has it's claws in him to some lesser extent as well.” She looks very sad for a moment. “There is a watch captain, one Gerhmain. He was useful to us as we embedded, first as a customer, then as a friend and informant. Strong sense of duty. I imagine he would have some idea what is afflicting this place, but he hasn't been seen in weeks. The guard shrugged me off when I asked.”

Alys joins in. “And Khraig? He changed?”

Cerys nods, looking disturbed. “Every day, he feels less my partner, less my husband, and more just another stranger in this town. It's like everything and everyone here melts into the same morass. I haven't left the shop in weeks. I am terrified it might happen to me.”

Alys puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Whatever it is, we will stop it, it's what we are here for.”

Cerys nods with clear uncertainty. You see it now in the older woman's eyes. She is terrified. But you have a lead. This Gerhmain should be sought out.

You run through the rest of your questions after. Cerys tells you that the new Duke is popular despite his youth. The inattention to the situation outside the walls is usually shrugged off as growing pains or an especially bad Ard Negh raiding season. Besides that, most seem to appreciate the full garrison and the local knights all remaining in Caertheon for it's protection. In fact, they praise the guard and garrison troops without fail.

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>>5269583
On the subject of the garrison, you ask why they have not been deployed. The general explanation remains keeping them in the city to counter the threat of siege from the new Ard Negh allchief. Yet no siege has been attempted, and the villages and farms still burn. While you can see the reasoning, there was no savage horde on the horizon. As you see it, the Duke still abandoned his people outside the walls to the worst depredations. Short of some excuse of which you cannot fathom he will see justice for this.
The operative embedded with the Ard Negh, apparently as a slave to the Allchief, has been silent for some time. Cerys is quick to assure you this is not unusual, they rarely find the opportunity given their position to send updates on their mission. For now, assume what you have heard of the united clans remains true. Neither Cerys nor Khraig know their identity, you will have to hope they have managed to retain their coin in their enslavement to confirm their veracity.

You and Alys thank Cerys for her help and make your way out of the Tailor shop.

“So, Will, to this Gehrmain, then?”

You nod. “We need any help we can get. This city could turn on us at any time, I feel it in my bones. It was the right choice not to present ourselves to the Duke.”

She thinks for a moment. “What if he really did have nothing to do with it?”

“Then we lean on my office to stop any retaliation.” You grimace.

“Fair enough.” She smiles. “We'll fix this Will, just stay with me.”

You almost snap at her before restraining yourself. What you saw on the way here infuriated you. Duty is everything, and this Duke is clearly ignoring his. All of the other sinister implications in Caertheon pale to you in comparison to this fact. But a rabid dog is of no use to it's master. And Alys has started to look at you with deep concern, and not a little pity. That would anger you, were it literally anyone else. Instead it makes you deeply self conscious.

“We have a job to do Alys, and I will see it through. Never doubt that.” You speak with a confidence you cannot claim to fully own. This whole mess seems beyond you in many ways. Swinging a sword will not fix this problem, and whatever is happening to the city seems so obscured you cannot see it clearly enough to make it out. On the street ahead, a dozen soldiers turn the corner ahead, the Duchy's orange and green colors on their tabards. It seems no normal patrol from the surprised reactions of the townsfolk around you. Your hair stands up on the back of your neck. The gate guard? Khraig? Even Cerys? They walk with purpose, and against reason you think this must be a sortie with you as the purpose. You look around for a moment to find an exit, but the alleys are shallow, and you will certainly be noticed. Even if they are not out for you exactly, you are armored and armed, and will be almost certainly accosted.

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>>5269588
Your mind is racing so quickly you do not even think to resist as you are pulled into one of the alleyways. Reaching for the small blade at your side you are only stopped by the press of familiar lips against yours. Alys kisses you passionately, and cannily turns the both of you away from the street as the guards march by. They pay no mind to the two lovers and their illicit alleyway tryst. After a moment, Alys pulls away reluctantly, a last peck on your lips following, as the last of the men pass your hideaway.

“More of that after the work, love.”

“... are you sure they are all gone?”

Your wife smiles and uncharacteristically sashays her hips as she walks out the alley, beckoning you to join her.

You force down the scorching heat in your veins and nod. Duty first. Always. After, well, you'll think of something.

The two of you remain silent as you approach the middle class district that houses most of the guard officers in the city. Gehrmain, despite his absence, is well known and liked. No time at all is spent finding his abode, apparently he kept his doors open to aid the local community when he could. The door, of course, is locked.

Alys tsks. “A moment, dear.” She produces a lockpick and begins her work. It's only a few moments before the old door swings open with a creak and you both enter. And your first lead dries up.

Gehrmain is there, of course. A makeshift noose dangling him from the ceiling via a support beam. Alys lights a torch and reveals the rest of the dingy, dark room. The walls covered in scrawled writings. It must have taken days, if not weeks.

IT WILL WORK OUT

IT WILL WORK OUT

IT WILL WORK OUT

IT WILL WORK OUT

THE DUKE SAID

THE DUKE SAID

THE DUKE SAID

And one, final scrawl, punctuated with blood.

THE EYES

“Depths...” Alys whispers. You share her disturbance. There is no questioning it now. Something very wrong is happening here and your duty is to rectify it. But what?

Obviously you will search the dwelling. You do have more leads. Or maybe you have an idea on what is going on already?

>>5269591
> Try to force the garrison to deploy to the countryside

> Confront the Duke, seek answers

> Meet back up with Friedrich and the Knights

> I know what is happening here, or at least enough of it. Write in.

>>5269591
The effect is memetic. I'd say to do with the Duke as the one who is giving these speeches, the gatherings are where this spell is cast which can then be drawn out through the garrisons through private meanings.

This is the work of the new world.
>return to Frederick
We need to get our allies, then we can march on the Duke.

>>5269592
>> Meet back up with Friedrich and the Knights

Time to formulate a plan.

>>5269592
> Try to force the garrison to deploy to the countryside

>>5269592
>Meet back up with Friedrich and the Knights
I guess it's also good to show that not everything will be as simple as initially thought.

>>5269592
>Meet back up with Friedrich and the Knights

Going to have to finish this one to tomorrow, it's grown a bit.

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>>5269757
>>5270454
>>5270642
>>5270847
There is little to be found in the man's dwelling. Other than a diary. It reflects what he scrawled on the walls. For years of entries it is nothing but the log of a bog standard, if unusually dutiful, lawman many of whom could be found anywhere in the Empire. But many months past, before the demise of Albrecht even, it begins recording the man's misgivings.

5 Summerstide

The new Duke troubles me. His father was ever diligent, attendant to his duties as the bulwark against the savage north. The son is lesser. He cares not for the raiders. Consolidation is his aim, he seeks loyalty and patronage. Independence, even. It does not fit with what I heard of the lad before. Perhaps power inevitably corrupts. I can only hope his responsibilities temper him into a better ruler. Many lords only grow into their roles, after all.

7 Harvestall

I am resolved. The new Duke is not worthy. Villages have begun to burn on the periphery of our territory, not the one or two common isolated incidents but tens of examples. He is unconcerned. Rumor is Caertheon will be in arrears for annual Imperial taxes. No attempt has been made to adjust. Politicians grow fat off the usual avenues of corruption. He is ignorant, or uncaring. But these things might be simply the actions of the unprepared or incompetent. In a word, recoverable.

Yet I have seen the truth of it. The ugly, ugly truth. The women of the keep live in fear. I know not what he does to them, but they seem compelled to follow his every word with the pain evident on their faces. Lady, I have never seen so much anguish. My only consolation is my dear Angie did not live to see, or suffer, such trespasses. I have worked these streets for too many decades to not recognize what is happening there. The Duke is a vile degenerate, and those around him suffer for his lusts.

I will gather those in the guard I can trust. We will confront him. For so many reasons, this cannot continue. The current state of affairs is a stain on everyone's honor. I cannot face Angie at the end of all this if I do not try. If I fail, whomever comes to read this, remember me.

15 Wintersfall

There was nothing to worry about. The taxes are behind, but the Duke said it will work out. Villiages as close as several miles from the walls burn, but the Duke said it will work out. The Emperor is dead, but the Duke said it will work out. The women are being raped but the Duke said it will work out. People keep disappearing but the Duke said it will work out. I want to die, but the Duke said it will work out. His eyes told me so.

THEREWASAPAINTINGINTHEHALLITISGONENOW

ITWILLBREAKHIM

angieimsorry

>>5272001
The unhinged last passage is punctuated by the man's handwriting becoming an erratic scrawl, the last clustered words ground into the page with unnecessary force. The fury you felt outside the walls fills you again. Truly, is there no depth to which the depravity you are fated to deal with will sink?
Alys notes your disturbed countenance, and abandons her fruitless examination of the rest of the dead man's home. You note she was last holding a small portrait. A man, likely a younger Gehrmain, is happily embracing a comely young woman. The joy apparent even in the simple, likely inexpensive, piece of art turns your stomach into a knot.

She steps to your side. “Will, you look troubled.” She takes your hand as the other still holds the accursed journal. You clench hers in yours, not enough to hurt, but enough to give yourself some comfort.

“When we are done here,” Your voice is a low growl, your rage, your sorrow for this good man wasted, nearly overwhelming. “... we bury this man with the highest honors. At the end of this, I think we will all owe him our lives.”

You stare a hole into the book, almost shaking with the realization of what has been going on here for months and months. Alys leans into you. “We will, my love. We will make all of this right. I need you to be here, all right? Be here with me.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you nod. Placing the dead man's journal into your pack, you finally make the decision to leave. “I'm here, Alys, I'll be anywhere you are if I can help it.” She squeezes your hand.

“I know Will, I know, what now?”

You look at her with determination. “We gather Friedrich and the men. The Duke dies for what he's done. If Alkaign thinks I have overstepped he can execute me himself.”

She looks skeptical. “We cannot just march in there with eight people, he has hundreds.”

You shake your head. “No, we cannot. Maybe we roll back. Appear in an official capacity. Maybe put him at ease. Find an advantage. If, of course, we are still incognito.”

She nods. “Find something more while we can be in the keep without suspicion? Good idea. You could entertain the man while I snoop about, I imagine he will have little interest in me.”

You think on the words in Gehrmain's diary. “Don't be so sure. And do not look the knave in his eyes. He has some unnatural ability to sway people.”

She scoffs. “Will, I would never betray you.”

You look at her gravely. “There is something unnatural about this city, about this Duke. Be careful around him.” You grimace. “I couldn't handle that, Alys.” She looks at you with warmth. “I couldn't handle you being against me.” You place a hand on your satchel. “I took Gehrmain's diary. You should read it when we get back. It has important information for us, I think.”

Your wife nods, her eyes darting about the room. “We should leave here. Someone will notice. And I don't think lingering here will do you any good, Will.”

>>5272002
You turn to leave, and Alys follows. A voice in your head screams to find Gehrmain a proper burial, but you cannot telegraph yourself so quickly. Plans are formulating in your mind, and several demand you be allowed into the keep without such suspicion. You know the man deserves better, that unknowingly, his end has delivered you some semblance of a path to victory, but duty carries you on.

Friedrich is not hard to find. The Inn at which he had chosen to house his men is surrounded by town guard. A tense confrontation has clearly been underway for some time. The trepidation builds in your chest as you and Alys approach. The sergeant keeping street traffic away is the first man you accost.

“What is the meaning of this?” You ask.

“Duke requested the presence of the leader of some lot of knights lodging here, Their leader said no, needed higher authority. Here we are. I'm sure it will work out.” You suppress the instinctual cringe you feel at that last turn of phrase.”

You sigh. “I am the higher authority. Give me some time, we will appear at the keep soon enough.”

The man shrugs. “I can accept that. Just appear tomorrow. No need for concern, the Duke said it will work out.”

“I'm sure.” You say, as the man gathers his men and leaves. In moments you have audience with a somewhat put upon Friedrich.

He still salutes. “Captain-General, good to see you. I did not know how much longer I could stonewall that cad you just dealt away with. Your investigations were fruitful?”

You nod grimly. “Yes. This city has a sickness and it resides on the chair in the keep. I need to gather evidence to present publicly, the people here won't believe it if we don't male it clear.”

He thinks for a moment. “It's a shame Domlech will be with the healers for a few more days. We could use him if this comes to blows.”

You grunt. “Domlech would not matter one whit if the Duke sees fit to send a hundred men at as. Worry not.”

Alys is at your side in a moment. “You and I can enter the Duke's hall without much subterfuge, but what of the others?

You scratch your chin. “I can get Friedrich in, the four others will have to wait most likely. I have faith I can end this without a bloodbath. As for strategy, I am open to suggestions

> Appear as yourself, as originally planned. Knowing the Duke's tricks may give you an advantage,

> Infiltrate the keep. While safer for most of your men, this will risk Alys. One misstep and she will be at the mercy of the duke.

> Send word for more troops. A full imperial contingent would likely solve the issue, but annoy Alkaign and put a mark on your competence as head of the Order.

>>5269592
> Meet back up with Friedrich and the Knights

On the way there, can we maybe pop in with Khraig and Cerys? I'm worried about the passing troops and retaliations. Perhaps send Friedrich once we've met up to avoid any suspicion because of our frequent visits? This city has got me paranoid.

>>5272024
Welp, once more I get fucked because I'm too dumb to refresh in time. Never mind this comment, it's clear where the town guard were heading.

>>5272005
Appear as yourself, as originally planned. Knowing the Duke's tricks may give you an advantage.

I'm torn between this and the last choice, anons. I don't want to risk wifey with the mind-controlling bullshit. What do you guys think?

>>5272005
>Appear as yourself, as originally planned. Knowing the Duke's tricks may give you an advantage,

>>5272005
> Appear as yourself, as originally planned. Knowing the Duke's tricks may give you an advantage

>>5272057
The Duke is possessed. Never make eye contact.
Always focus on his chest, legs or feet. We can wear a helmet to help disguise it if we like. But it is magic which is at work here.

Cut off the head of this snake and the body will die.
He either is an isakai or has been backed by a still living one. We must move swiftly.

>>5272099
I forgot.

>appear as originally planned.

>>5272005
>Appear as yourself, as originally planned. Knowing the Duke's tricks may give you an advantage,

>>5272005
> Send word for more troops. A full imperial contingent would likely solve the issue, but annoy Alkaign and put a mark on your competence as head of the Order.

Update will have to be tomorrow, time got away from me and I need to sleep now. Thanks for reading, as always.

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You sigh. “This is risky, but I cannot turn this into a bloodbath. We cut our way through his men we just waste blameless blood and have less men to deal with whatever is going on outside the walls. We call for reinforcements the problem gets to fester. And with the entire garrison inside the walls, infiltration is too difficult. We have to go with the original plan, just with what we know now.”

Alys looks concerned. “Will, if the three of us walk in there, there is no guarantee we walk out. Just send me, let me do my job. It's too much, what would happen if we were all lost?”

“If you think I am letting you go in there alone, or that if I did I would not be cutting my way in after you at the first sign of trouble, you haven't been paying attention.” She looks at you with barely concealed anger. You produce the diary. “Read it, Alys. He ensorcells people. There is a power in his speech, in his gaze. It must be the root of the city's complacency. Something like that unnatural power that Reiji and his cohort had. Just, more subtle. A scalpel where that was a sword.”

She takes a few moments to skim the relevant entries. Her face darkens, and she looks at you seriously. “This means it isn't perfect. Gehrmain broke it, in a way, even as it broke him. What was it Cerys said? 'A strong sense of duty'.”

You nod. “He was asked to ignore what his nature required him to address. His mind was torn asunder. But it took weeks. Even if we slip up, we might have a small chance to fight it, maybe it will be enough. We just have to hope the spell is broken when he falls.”

Friedrich speaks up. “So that is it, then? Roll the dice on your mission here not being exposed and walk in?”

“What's being done here isn't the fault of the people of Caertheon. I will not condemn any of them for it if I can avoid it. He seems the type to toast a visitor, if we can expose him in front of enough people, maybe even his foul power will lose it's grasp. They gave us until tomorrow, I won't rule out the guard grabbing us in the night but I am betting a man like this cannot resist showing off.”

Friedrich nods gravely. “I'll have the men keep a watch. If the Duke's men make to surprise us in the middle of the night, we'll not let them have the advantage.” He salutes. “If that is all, Captain-General, I would get to it. And you two should rest, you will need your strength and it has been a trying few days.”

>>5274423
“Thank you, Sir Friedrich. That is all.” The grizzled knight turns and leaves. He was thoughtful enough to rent an additional room for you and Alys and that's where you find yourselves after grabbing a small portion of food from the Inn's kitchens. Sitting at the small table inside the modest room, you note Alys is only picking at her food. Placing the beef broth back down you look at the woman. “What is it, dear?”

She does not look up at you as she responds. “You're treating me differently. I don't like being coddled.”

Worry fills you. “You have an odd definition of being coddled. It's not like I tried to shut you up in Barython.”

An icy glare. “This is what I do. You should have let me go, I could have done it tonight and been back by morning.”
You shake your head, unused to this obstinacy. “Or you would be dead, and I wouldn't know about it for hours. Or, sadly, worse than that.” Your mind keeps going back to what the younger Duke Bertrand has been subjecting the women of the keep to. No, you were never sending her in alone. Not with what you suspect the man is capable of.

She pouts. “I know the risks.”

You sigh deeply. “If you want the truth, yes, I am treating you differently. You're my wife. But you picked a bad example to get upset over. I wouldn't send anyone in there alone.”

She takes a generous swig of the mulled wine served with the meal. “Are you sure you just don't want your personal confrontation with the man? You've barely been keeping it together since we approached the city, Will. You stare off into the distance, and I've seen you shake with anger. You're worrying me.”

A fist clenches until you are almost certain you have broken the skin on your palm. “I am calm now. Just anxious to end this. There is still a horde of Ard Negh out there. As disgusting as the situation here is, it's a distraction.”

She stands up, her food half eaten at best, and moves to your side. Gently, she take your hand, and pries the fingers open to reveal the fresh wounds you had just inflicted upon yourself. “You are a terrible fucking liar, Will.”

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>>5274424
You let her kneel down and clean the superficial cuts. “Okay, Alys. I'm mad. Furious even. And I want to hear the bastard beg at the end if half of what I think he's done is true, but I don't think I'll get to. So I'll let him talk as much as he wants before he knows who has come for him.” She finishes with your hand by wrapping it in a small strip of clean fabric. It's tight and not too bulky, you'll be able to wear gloves and gauntlets with no issue.

She pulls you up and towards the bed. “You need to be honest with me, Will, I know you want to just keep it all inside yourself but please let me help. Now let's see what we can do about all that anger, you need to be level headed when we meet the Duke.” Initially you think that a lewd suggestion, but as it turns out Alys just talks softly to you about things of no importance, her head on your shoulder, until you are lulled into the most restful sleep you have had since leaving Barathon.

The next morning find the three of you working your way towards the keep, the cold morning air misting your breath as you approach. You and Friedrich are in your usual half armor, while Alys has opted for a ladylike emerald dress you were unaware she had packed. Perhaps to not appear as a threat. She assures you, the bodice is almost as good for storing her knives as her cloaks are. A guard checkpoint stops you as the tall structure looms ahead. The sergeant, a different one, holds up a gauntleted hand. “State your business?”

“Lord Uilleam Campbell here to discuss the tithe with Duke Bertrand. My Wife and Imperial Knight Sir Friedrich accompanying. We are expected.”

“Of course, my Lord. The Duke is currently taking his breakfast with his advisers and other guests. You will be more than welcome to join.”

You nod at the man. “I will do so, thank you.”

The sergeant looks to two of the men with him. “Reznik, Karamov, take the Lord to the Duke. He'll be happy to have proper com-” He is cut off by the audible smack of something heavy hitting the cobblestones with a wet sound. You jump, Alys yelps, and even Friedrich takes a step back. Distressingly, the guardsmen seem to be unperturbed. You look at the impact site. A young woman, likely barely of age, lies in ruin. Her limbs twisted and skull burst on the stones. The smell hits you in the cold air shortly after, and even your own hardy sensibilities have to take a moment. She either jumped from a high floor of the keep, or was pushed.

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>>5274428
“What is the meaning of this?” You demand, Alys at your side grabs your arm and looks at you with warning.

The sergeant shrugs. “Turnover among the staff has been high. Really, they should think of the ones who have to clean it all up. Follow my men, I'll take care of this.” He waves you off somewhat flippantly, but you didn't come here to put callous sergeants in their place, so you allow your party to be led inside. The first thing you notice is the absolute state of the place. Discarded goblets, food trays, and stains are apparent even in the entrance hall. Garrison troops in various states of undress and drunkenness litter the halls, though plenty are still more or less attending their duties as well. Passing deeper within, you enter the audience hall where the Duke is said to be taking his breakfast, and discover a scene of pure debauchery. Dozens of garrison troops and even knights are taking their meal in the Duke's hall, despite the hour the room reeks of strong spirits. Serving girls, dressed in a manner the basest tavern wenches would balk at, scurry to serve the bawdy gathering. Sweat sheens on their faces, many clearly only very young girls, and you do not know if it is from exertion or fear. And of course, at the high table, is the man himself.

Duke Bertrand is a weedy, thin young man. He is unkempt, as if personal grooming is below his notice. He wears the personal device of his house, the Oaken Gate of Caertheon on his doublet but it is marred by numerous wine stains. Next to him is a pretty young woman you recall as his recent bride, a Lady Beata, of one of the smaller trading towns near the border with the central province. She looks at nothing and no one, and makes no attempt to engage with Bertrand's cavorting with his advisers, a gaggle of both fat and ratlike burgermeister types who clearly fawn over the boy Duke's venal favor.

It is the most disgusting thing you have ever witnessed. And decorum requires your party greets the man and soon. But first, you have some time to examine the room more closely. There may be something you can use. You think back to Gehrmain, and his scrawlings both on his walls and in his diary.

>Please roll 3 1d100 Best of 3, DC 60

>Write in: You are looking for something specific

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>5274436
The missing painting, I suppose. As for what it could be, I find myself unsure.

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>5274436
The painting makes sense

>>5274522
Guess we should be glad we noticed we were inside at all

Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>5274436
Look for a missing painting, a cleaner square on the wall or SOMETHING to denote a missing painting. Maybe the kid was stupid enough to just leave it lying around.
>>5274524
This is roll under, no? 2 rolls like this is really good actually

>>5274436
Well, fuck.
>>5274556
I'm afraid it's roll over.

>>5274643
It's roll under, which has been true previously as well.

This is why that hundred earlier almost gave me a heart attack until I realized the guy had posted twice.

>>5274691
Oh, right, my bad QM! Following multiple quests at once can get confusing.
In that case: yay!

>>5274436
>The painting, any eye graphetitie.
>And if his wife appears to be lucid. Behind every great man there is a woman

>>5274754
I'm in the same boat but luckily we were doing much better than I thought

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The hall is such a complete disaster it takes you some time to notice that Bertrand appears to be taking audience while he eats, an unsubtle insult to any supplicants. As a landed Lord you are in your rights to proceed before the smattering of townspeople and merchants that appear the make up the queue, but as your real purpose here has nothing to do with a speedy meeting you take the opportunity to more closely examine the room for any clues.

Your eye was already drawn by the Duke's wife. There is something odd about how she is apart from the raucous festivities, how her eyes look at where they are supposed to but seem to also observe nothing. No expert on the minds of women, as Eleyse spent much of your time together in your younger years telling you, it seems best to bring in someone with more experience. You speak softly, but not as a whisper. Little chance of that carrying in the den of this foul gathering. “Alys, the Duke's wife. I can't get a read on her. I only know her by reputation, but something seems off.”

Your better half takes a moment to focus on the head table as the line slowly meanders towards your coming audience. “The woman won't look at anyone. She's drinking just as much as the Duke, but not engaging with anyone else.” Alys shakes her head. “Will, I think she's in pain. And terrified to show it.”

A grimace twists your expression. You'll have to rid yourself of it in the time you have left. “Thank you, so another victim then?”

“I think so. If we can help her, we should. People with that look rarely find anyone who will.

You interlace hands with hers for a moment, reluctantly letting go before a raucous degenerate or two could notice. “We're here to make things right. And we shall.” Her smile, for once not obscured by her now absent hood, sends warmth into your chest. You won't let her down, now.

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>>5275902
The second thing you look for is something from Gehrmain's diary. He desperately mentioned that there was a painting in the hall, presumably the very one you now stand in. And that it would “Break” the Duke. You look around. Artwork is common in this hall, though some have been knocked astray or sport stains of unknown and likely unsavory portent. Portraits line one wall, landscapes of the north the other. You put aside the landscapes having some esoteric, puzzle like hidden meaning and focus on the other wall. The portraits are all of stern looking, well dressed men, usually bearing a sword. Presumably it has to be the line of the House Caert Dukes, a thought you hold even before you see a face you vaguely recall from years previous, that of the last Duke. There is no telltale marking of a missing work. But there is oddly one less portrait than there are landscapes on the opposite wall. You know for a fact that the Duke's line is older than five portraits currently hanging, so it is not like they are likely to lack in options to achieve symmetry. There is no way to know for sure, but it is possible the current Duke's portrait was removed and put elsewhere. This of course begs the question of why, and how, it is so damaging that Gehrmain thought it would break him? You will have to find a way to search for it, but you will not be able to simply roam until you have greeted Bertrand, at least. Possibly you could contrive to send Friedrich away, but you and Alys will have a harder time leaving the hall unnoticed.

Other than the general chaos of the hall, there is one final thing. One of the more remote tables seats a number of the knights garrisoned here. One holds the livery of the Imperial Family but the others have the colors and heraldry of their own minor houses, none of which you know by sight. You do note the five of them are not joining in the general merrymaking, and are seated far from where the Duke might have cause to engage them. They stare straight ahead, talking calmly, an island in a chaotic sea. Have they caught on? Or is it just coincidence?
The family of farmer looking types immediately in front of you begin to leave, somehow looking by turns disappointed, hopeful, and numb. You wonder if whatever power the Duke possesses was used to turn them away, though you heard his dismissal of their request for a tax break due to poor yields and felt no specific unnatural feeling. But then, it wasn't directed at you. Your party steps up.

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>>5275905
A man you assume to be the Duke's majordomo reads out. “Uilleam and Alys Campbell, of Hold Campbell, here to discuss the tithe.” He gives the appropriate moment of silence befitting a gap in rank. “Accompanied by Sir Friedrich Stoutshield, of the Imperial Chivalry.” You raise an eyebrow. While you never bothered to look, and Friedrich never bothered to mention it, Stoutshield was a name reserved for commoners uplifted to knighthood during military service. There's a story there, one you are sure the man will likely never tell unless you pull it from him like a tooth. Something for another time.

If the conversation you are about to have with the Duke is a game of Citadels, then your opening gambit like many is meant to parse out just what your opponent's capabilities are. The eyes, the scrawlings had said. How can you avoid contact without suspicion? The three of you had discussed it that morning, and the answer came from Friedrich. Protocol. Strict protocol. The north lacks the formal manners and ritual of Althimuran court. But there is nothing to stop you from being proper. And if you bow just low enough that you cannot immediately be expected to make eye contact, all the better. Now you will see how powerful his voice is alone, if he is even suspicious or paranoid enough to try you.

The man's voice is more than slightly slurred. “Ah, Lord Campbell! My father always spoke well of yours, you are always welcome in Caertheon. As is your lovely wife.” His reedy voice lingers on lovely in a manner that makes your skin crawl. He does not bother to note Friedrich, his former curiosity about him and your knights now likely assuaged as he believes they were your escort. “But please, do rise all of you. Join the feast. No need to stand on ceremony. There it is. The first test. None of you should be looking him in the eye. But even if you do resist the compulsion you can confirm you feel rising in the back of your mind, how wise is it to do so? He can be more proactive if he suspects you, and your defenses only go so far. You believe Alys and Friedrich to be both of strong wills, in Alys' case you know more than anyone. But you cannot be with them in their heads. Time seems to slow as you weigh your options.

> Test your limits, rise after would be proper, hopefully not raising suspicion.

> Resist entirely. This will likely anger or confuse the Duke, but will confirm your defenses extend to fully resisting a direct aural command

> Comply, regardless. Let him think you are as susceptible as anyone, and save your trump card for a more critical moment.

> Write in

> Please roll 3 1d100 DC 50 Best of 3

Rolled 38, 79, 23 = 140 (3d100)

>>5275909
>Resist entirely. This will likely anger or confuse the Duke, but will confirm your defenses extend to fully resisting a direct aural command

>>5275909
>Test our limits, rise after it would be proper.
Oh, and naturally, utterly refuse to join this den of debauchery.

Rolled 6 (1d100)

Forgot the die.>>5275940

Also, I've a motion.
>Remark that his own wife is a fair woman herself, by looks and reputation. Perhaps it would be best that they entertain one another while we discuss buissness of the realm

Sorry wifey, but this is your opening.

Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>5275909
>>5275940 and >>5275941 +1

>>5275917
Invalid roll, it's 1d100 per poster.

Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>5275909

> Test your limits, rise after would be proper, hopefully not raising suspicion.

>>5275941
Supported

>>5275909
>> Test your limits, rise after would be proper, hopefully not raising suspicion.

Was in no state to write anything coherent when I got home, apologies. Will make it up tonight.

>>5277682

...and make that tomorrow as my PC won't start. Im going to get some sleep and break out the laptop tomorrow. Sorry about the delays guys.

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You remain doubled over in the formal bow for some time, deliberately pushing past propriety as your host had relieved you of formal obligation. Your muscles squeal in discomfort, and not only that of organs over-strained. It is sickening as you realize they wish to rise. They want the freedom to do what they have been bade. The web of loyalties that keeps you whole is inferior in the face of biological reality, however coerced. Your little experiment in defiance complete, you do slowly begin to return to standing. A middle ground is found between eye contact and outright refusing to look in Bertrand's direction. To your side Alys is steady as she herself rises, and only one who knows her as well as you do would notice the strain that wrinkles the demure smile that she holds out as a mask. Friedrich seems as unflappable as ever, but to your surprise he sips from a drink brought to him by one of the scandalously clad serving girls, he looks surprised for a moment as the liquid passes his lips. But even so compelled, his demeanor remains dour and he is hardly imbibing to excess. Small victories for this first foray, you must admit.

“Your hospitality is generous, my Duke.” You speak in a level, respectful tone, burying your true thoughts on the man and his manner of greeting. “As generous as your words towards my dear Alys. Your own wife is also fair, perhaps the two of them could speak of womanly matters as we conduct the banal business of state?” Alys looks aside at you. She doesn't nod, but the smiling mask becomes more genuine for a moment. She has seen what you are about.

The shrug the Duke lets out is so momentous wine sloshes from his goblet as he puts his arms up in resignation. “Must we? Ah, well, since you came all this way Campbell, who am I to refuse a smallholder?” His cronies wail in laughter and throw jeers in your direction as if the Duke had just dropped a witticism worthy of the ancient dramatists of the south. Nonetheless he does motion that you approach closer and waves away the buzzing cloud of fly like flunkies feasting on the bloated corpse of the Duchy's dignity. As the merchants and town luminaries float off the drink and grope servants elsewhere, you and the Duke are given a bubble of privacy. “You came to my city with a party of eight, I am told by my guards. Not enough to bring the tithe with you, though we could use it. The coffers run ever low, I am sure you understand.” You try not to laugh bitterly at this extravagant wastrel daring to complain of shallow coffers. “So, then.” He stands and places a hand on your shoulder. Possibly to steady himself, you notice he is drunk enough to be somewhat shaky as he stands. “Tell me. Why are you all here?”

>>5279987
If the previous command was a mild pressure, this one is like a mental sledgehammer. Telling this man your full purpose here would violate everything you believe in. Your duty, your oath, the safety of your sworn men and your Wife. This friction allows you to resist. But as several moments pass the pressure increases tenfold. This, you are sure, it what killed Gehrmain. You wonder how many in this damned city have lived with this rending agony day to day? How many made it stop the only way they knew how? But you have yet to make eye contact. Your eyes have locked on Bertrand's hand upon your right shoulder, something that perhaps seems awkward but is expected enough to rouse suspicion. His hold is not as strong as it could be, and you still have space to think. Tell him why you are here. It will have to be the truth. Or at least a truth.

“To see you, my Duke. We have not met, at least, not really. I think you were around when my father and I came to Caertheon fifteen years or so back, but we never came face to face. You are the Duke now, and it is no good for even a smallholder not to lay eyes on the liege of the Duchy, after all.” None of that was a lie, even if it was not the full truth. You did want to see the Duke, after all. You had hoped there would be aid here for what must surely be coming from the far north. But after what you have learned, there is no ally here. In fact, you are all but sure there is something you are bound to destroy. And once you have, an even greater threat remains. Hope is all you have that this creature has not seen through your obscurification.

Fortunately, you begin to suspect that someone used to pulling what he wants out of others by force is not particularly discerning when it comes to what exactly it is he receives. He frowns for a moment, like a fisherman disappointed with an anemic catch. “Oh, I see. Your adherence to tradition is commendable, of course, Campbell. May I call you Uilleam? Will, maybe?”

“Uilleam will be fine, my Duke.” He's hunting for a concession, desperate to force you into the informality he clearly savors. It's a power play, you know that. But this man calling you the same name that Alys does would drive you mad, so you meet him halfway. Even if you would rather not meet him at all. But of course, here you are playing for time. Friedrich has disappeared. His status as a mere knight below the Duke's notice, he has free movement of the hall. You have to hope he will find something worthwhile while scrutiny is upon you instead. Alys has pulled aside the Duchess. They speak, too far for you or the Duke to hear. Alys smiles, not the mask from before, but one she has used on you before. A look of one who desires to comfort and provide succor. If the Duke loves the sound of his own voice, as it seems, you will oblige him. And you have another move in this game of Citadel, a known gambit you know your opponent has employed many times before.

>>5279991
“So Uilleam, how do you like my fair city?” The question is loaded with implication. And you take his bait deliberately.

“The city is grand, but what we saw outside of the walls troubles me. How will the trade routes survive with such disruption?” Better he thinks you concerned with the practicalities, no need for this snake to know you to be morally inflexible if he seeks another thrall.

He appears unconcerned as ever. “Oh, that? I have a solution in the works. Do not worry yourself, good Uilleam It will all work out..” The phrasing is exactly as you expected. Whether he believes there is some power in that specific diction or is simply too lazy to vary his approach, you do not know. What becomes apparent is that, this time, the compulsion is weak. Weaker even than his initial probe as you greeted him. Knowing as you do the phrase's import, your own principled opposition to what it implies, the indignation over the fates of Gehrmain, those outside the walls, and who knows how many others? It has inured you. The compulsion is more an uncomfortable buzz than any real agony or pain. So then, with no need to even concede slightly, you can play it up all on your own.

“Yes, my Duke, I am sure. You must forgive me my concern. Hold Campbell is as dependent on the trade lanes as any smallhold.. I am sure you have it in hand.” It twists your gut to even feign obsequiousness to this reprobate, but sacrifice and duty are on the same page of the dictionary, as father always said. You're pretty sure that's not how dictionaries work but it wasn't worth bringing up.

He grins smugly, clearly buying that you, like everyone else, is under his spell. “I am glad to hear it, Uilleam, I am sure we will have much to discuss in the days to come. You will stay in Caertheon for some time? Please. I have need of an experienced fighter against the raiders. I know you are the best, spend the season here. I can give you quarters in the keep even, we have some recent vacancies after all.”

This one is harder than the last. You cannot commit to the full season. You fully expect this entire matter to be resolved either tonight or soon after. This cancer must be cut out. The pressure increases, you approach the boiling point without any clear recourse. This is the mid point of Citadel. Opening gambits have been made, and countered, by both sides. Losses mount. Now it is attrition and willpower. How will yours stack up?

>>5279993
As you battle the suggestion in your mind, you spare a thought for the battles Alys and Friedrich are facing. For this war of words to end in something like victory, both must do their parts. You wish you could aid them, but in this battle, you are but the feint.

>Uilleam's distraction: 1d100 DC 70 to avoid suspicion

> Alys get's the Lady Beata to open up: 1d100 DC 85

> Friedrich does detective work: 1d100 DC 60

> Something is happening at the knight's lodging in town: 1d100 DC 50

One roll per player, and please feel free to pick any roll out of order. Apologies again for the delays. Most everything is back to normal here.

Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>5280001

>>5280019
I would like to know which roll this was for so I can start deciding who is fucked and how hard.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5280029
Rolling 1d2 to put it on Alys or Knights (1 for Knights, 2 Alys)

>>5280034
Knights it is.

Rolls for Alys, Uilleam, and Friedrich still open

Rolled 40 (1d100)

>>5280001
lets do alys’ roll then

Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>5280001
>Uilleam's distraction: 1d100 DC 70 to avoid suspicion

>>5280057
>>5280087


Friedrich remains

Rolled 66 (1d100)

>>5280001
>Friedrich does detective work: 1d100 DC 60

Kinda a rough batch guys. Luckily none of these are really fatal. Update tomorrow, Im off.

>>5280001
I hope these were roll unders.

>>5280122
Every roll is.

It's still not a great spread this time.

>>5279987
I have a sinking suspicion that the Duke we met here is not the actual Duke, but an isekai-powered infiltrator which decided to live in debauchery. That's why the portrait is missing, so that outsiders won't even guess that the Duke isn't the Duke - those who raise a fuss gets Kaa'd. Like Gehrmain.

>>5280226
Yep, I'm sure this is the case. The Duke is an impersonator, the real Duke is either dead or in a cell somewhere, and if Will had met him then the game would be up already.

Also, I just caught up. I like what you've done with this quest, and I was really surprised to see a waifu picked so early with no accompanying waifu war or even any real opposition at all.

>>5280590
Glad to hear you're enjoying it. I said before but the marriage option was not something I had planned, it just felt right at the time and grew out of the feel I had for the characters. It's been a joy to write off of, however.

Update will be a bit later tonight, won't be home for some time. On the bright side my BIOS necromancy brought my desktop back.

>>5280948
Yeah, it did feel right at the time and I'd definitely have voted for it if I was there.

I'm mostly surprised at anons' reaction though. Even without a full waifu war, I've usually seen at least one anon sperging out about the waifu ruining the quest when votes are affected by her existence, like choosing not to send her alone against the rapist mind controller. I'm not sure if it's because you did something right, or because the playerbase is smaller and less autistic.

In any case, it's nice.

You fail to hide your growing discomfort at his suggestions. “Regrettably, I have to head back to the Hold soon, my Duke. There is much there that needs my attention.” Your reply is stammered out, but despite your best efforts the assault on your mind has taken it's toll. For the first time, you read suspicion on the Duke's face, and you begin to fear he has realized you are actively resisting his efforts.

“Ah, Uilleam, but you said yourself the roads are in a state! I insist. Stay here as my guest. Wait until I can promise you passage.. Would that not be better? You and your wife seem such a loving couple, and it would be a shame to see harm come to either of you under my watch.” His smile would seem sincere if you couldn't smell the wine on him from feet away, and see the rot in his soul through his blank eyes.

“I would thank you for the consideration.” A moment of distraction, and the compulsion forces the words from your lips. Inside your own head, you rage at both the violation and the implied threat the bastard made toward Alys, but you try your hardest to not allow it to show on your face. Your success or failure is unknown to you, until with a smug smirk he makes his follow up.

“My friend, you seem so tense!. Sit. Your expression remains level, but your anger betrays you anyway. For a moment, you reflexively glare into his hateful eyes. And before you know it you are seated, your body obeying him rather than you, and you now understand intimately the hold he has on this city. You rage at it, and are rewarded with searing pain, like needles driven into the sides of your head, a growing pressure in the back of your skull threatening to force out all coherent thought, all of your beliefs, everything but mechanical obedience. You fight it still, but fight is all you can do. And this time there is no hiding it. Your face contorts, and speaking becomes impossible.

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>>5282658
He laughs softly. “Did you think you were the first? Most people fold immediately, as they should, simple creatures you all are. Yet, I do admire when you fight. It's pointless, of course, but the spirit is something to see. None of you ever realize I am the only one playing this game.” He looks around the hall, his cronies still keeping their distance as bidden and the rest of the occupants undertaking whatever debauched acts they had already set themselves upon. He briefly locks eyes on Alys, making you squirm in angry concern, but he makes no move towards her and his own wife. “The Emperor's sister, no?” You glare at him again, but take more care to avoid the eyes. His intentions could grow more twisted by the moment. “Uilleam, my friend, you will have to tell me how you managed that. And you will. Or she will.” He leans into your face, his foul breath wafting over you, causing bile to rise in your gullet. “You know, I can be very charming, I am told. Told often, even. We will be the best of friends before long, you and she and I.” In your mind your hand grabs his throat and squeezes, denying him the power of his damnable voice, but in reality you only manage to barely raise your limb from the arm rest, the movement in slow motion as if you were submerged in water. He dramatically sidesteps the motion. “You are willful! Not even that damnable guardsman managed such a thing. I hear he never left his home after our meeting, shame that. I find I never have quite enough men around to clean the bedroom after I'm done. Maybe you'll prove resilient enough to suffice?”

You finally find your tongue. “Creature. You will not cow me with threats of humiliation. I know who I am, and I know how this ends.”

He sputters with laughter. “Creature? Oh, my friend, you naive fool. I'm the only real person here. If your Gods, your Lady were real, they would have stopped me.” His gloating turns into a hiss. You fucking insects think you can claim anything on me. I am a god here. I was given this chance. Those cultists preaching of a better world?” He notes your surprised recognition. “Do not mistake me, they were useful for a time. That world was hardly better, take my word for it. But now I am everything. In this game, I am the fucking protagonist. You people need to learn your place.” The command to sit is nearly impossible to work against once you have succumbed to it. Your role in this ploy is likely done, and you are at the madman's mercy. Small mercy it is, he seems more interested in taunting you than doing anything to stop your compatriots. Alys is still in deep conversation with the Lady Beata. Friedrich is long gone from the hall. You have reason to hope.

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>>5282661
“You think that stooge of a knight will save you? Fool. I sent men after him before we even spoke.” All you can do is glare hatred into his chin, not willing to meet his eyes again. “I have heard of you. The scourge of the Ard Negh. They hate you, Uilleam. Whisper of you. I think they scare their children with you. I thought I might make you my dog, but maybe I will give you to them. The clans thirst for your blood. And I think now I will make you a gift.” A wild look takes his smug expression away. “You thought to come here and deny me what I have earned?!? No. They will sacrifice you to their false gods, and it will be slow.” He shrugs his shoulders in the direction of Alys and Beata. “And I will make her watch. My brother will allow it, despite the stick up his ass. It will be delicious. She will watch you die. And then I will take her.” Another laugh, this more a giggle, though a mad one. You struggle against your mental restraints, but you let the command to Sit into you, and you cannot escape it yet. Friedrich is hunted. You are all but undone. But the man's hubris blinds him to the greatest threat. Alys will save you. Only Alys can. You refuse to let it end like this. The agony of continued resistance to this monster's intrusions into your mind is only bearable because of her. Because you have something to come home to. Not too long ago, you had nothing but blood in your future. Then you would have gladly given in to this degenerate. One man's blood not so different from another. You live for something higher now. Lady, how you wish you had seen it sooner. How you wish she had been there to show you.

In Citadel, there is a time to concede. And you have been bested. But this was never a game on a board, and no matter the analogy it is not done yet. The man calling himself Bertrand stands in triumph, and motions to his guards to take you. But at the same time, you notice rapid movement to your right.

>>5282664
****************************

Friedrich walks hurriedly through the labyrinthine halls of the Ducal Castle, knowing what he seeks. His master had not ever voiced what he was to find, but thirty years an Imperial Knight had not made the man a dullard. The Ducal portrait, present for all but the currently sitting duke. An oversight, and not a likely one for a man so set on extravagance. So storeroom after storeroom after dusty pantry, Friedrich has looked. It's been almost an hour before he finds it. A painting in the most modern style. A man in the Ducal vestments and circlet common in the north. A man who looks nothing like the “Duke” in the audience hall. But the second he does, he hears the footsteps behind him.

“Ye lookin where ye not supposed ta be, southerner.” The man, and his four companions, wear the colors of the Duke and are armed in the traditional style of the civilized duchy, but their mannerisms and way of speaking scream Ard Negh. Friedrich shrugs. His greatsword of course waits in the room back at the inn, but the arming sword is allowed a knight at formal events. He draws it in a smooth motion.

“The first man to die has my respect.” The biggest among them moves in as fast as able, his mace a blur. Friedrich, eyes narrowed, is ready.

>>5282666
*****************************
“Lady Beata?” Alys starts, tentatively. The woman looks at her, but more accurately, through her. Her glassy eyes focusing on nothing. Alys frowns. The woman seems completely detatched from reality, She has seen this before, but only from prisoners subjected to too much torture or soldiers who have passed beyond what they were ever able to handle. To her horror, she sometimes sees it in her dear Will's eyes when he talks, though rarely, of his years ranging to slay the Ard Negh raiders. She would never mention it to her husband, but she sometimes wonders if he truly stopped at the raid parties, if he never came across a camp, if he never ran afoul of a family.

Beata's mouth opens a few times before she find's word. “Lady Alys.” Her voice should be singsong, anyone could tell you that, but it is scratchy and hoarse. It's the voice of one who has been rarely allowed to speak for some time. The woman's face quivers, her eyes water at the edges. Alys knows one thing, this woman is in agony.

“Beata, please, take your time. My husband is with him, he won't have time to keep looking at you. We could all tell something was wrong. What is it? Let us help you.”

The woman, barely a slip of a girl really, begins weeping instantly. Luckily it proves true that the Duke is distracted. Alys looks over just in time to see Uilleam sit forcefully on one of the provided chairs, and the implication of that suddenness chills her to the bone. The distraction is failing, and her beloved is in that monster's thrall. “Beata, please, tell me anything. My Will is up there with that man, and I don't know what I would do without him.”

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>>5282667
For a moment Lady Beata is a deer in the headlights, but then she mentions a stream of Information like a torrent of bile after a bad night on the town. “He's not Bertrand, I don't know what happened to him. Poor Bert went out to treat with the savages and they sent that Bastard back in his place. I...” She trails off, troubled. “... I didn't realize for weeks. I don't know why. But everything was different!” She shudders. “And when he fucked me he was rough, rougher than ever. I knew then, it wasn't him. But by then I couldn't stop him.” She started weeping then, and Alys, overcome with empathy, embraced her. Let the bastard Duke watch, this was not something she would neglect. When she left for her further education at 18, that is to say all the things a princess should not do, her brother told her one thing: “Never let them see you cry, But if you see someone else doing so, help them. That is what it is to be a servant of the people.”

Alys looks aside at her love, who is still clearly struggling against the will of the “Duke”. But there is little she can do for him now. Not alone. “Beata.”

The young woman, even younger than Alys, whimpers. “Yes?”

“Can you get the Duke alone? Can you hide me there? I would free you of him.”

Her initial look is absolute fright. But after some moments, it softens. A grin even forms. “Laundry. You hide in the laundry. The Duke's shirt is stained and he will soon tire of that. That is your moment, be as a pile of clothes.

And so Alys finds herself hidden amongst the Duke's laundry, readying a strike she knows she may not survive. But her husband is on the edge of death, the poor woman she has just met faces interminable suffering, and even Sir Friedrich, stalwart and without sentiment, is in danger. Sentiment is a liability, and luxury is death. Alys tears her fine emerald dress almost up to her upper hip and moves on.

>>5282668

> 1d100 DC 70 best of 2 for Alys making a plan and acting on it

> 1d100 DC 50 for Friedrich fighting for his life

Uilleam is incapacitated for this round.

Rolled 70 (1d100)

>>5282671
Come on Alys

Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>5282671
Lady luck be kind today

Rolled 84 (1d100)

>>5282671
rolling for Friedrich

>>5282695
RIP

This quest just isnt blessed

>>5282710
Damn

>>5282695
Oof

Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>5282671
Rolling for something else to happen, please be good

Rolled 7, 95, 29, 97, 82, 32, 71, 33, 77, 84 = 607 (10d100)

>>5283149
Good thing this didn't count - now let's roll the bad rolls away, shall we?

It was fun I guess. Damn it, any other time we would be rocking out. Roll under is fucking cursed I swear.

For what it's worth rolls have always been roll under or equal, and I think this is the first time one has landed right on DC. So the Alys roll is a pass, though only just. I'll have to post the update tomorrow. I've been working on it a good bit but it got really late on me again. Hopefully I can have it up midday, got nothing on my plate for once tomorrow.

>>5283663
So Friedrich got a 62?

Maybe he wont die.

>>5283892
No, his is the 84. Alys was best of two so her roll came in with the 62. Just noting the 70 would also have been a pass.

>>5283899
DOOOOOOMED

>>5283663
the problem isn't with the roll under. It's with the BO1 rolls in life or death situations. Failure is inevitable.

>>5284030
>Failure is inevitable.

Such is life

>>5284030
I recognize this, which is why I tend not to make your average failure fatal. The DC was 50 so you have three degrees of failure, which is the tens digit. I don't use a strict table for what that means, this is primarily a narrative quest, but it could be much worse. Still working on the update.

>>5284082
take as much time as you need

Hope my fellow Americans are having a good Memorial Day weekend. Cookout related shenanigans have kept me pretty occupied, but the update is mostly done after a few rewrites because I keep second guessing myself. I'll post it tomorrow along with an archive link, we are about due for thread 3 soon.

>>5286772
QM, are you okay? ;_;

>>5291819
Sorry about the lapse in communication. I've been very sick, I suspect due to one of my uncles coughing all over the Memorial day burgers. I am still here, and will post the update soon.

This delay is not what I would have liked, but be assured, I will persevere.

We are archived. Im going to be working on the update tonight as I am finally feeling better. If the thread falls off the board as seems likely, look for thread 3 on the catalog and linked in /qtg/

>>5295196
>>5292606
Thanks for running.