The SoE Civil War
Prologue
The road to the old Slovenian Village was harsh. Theft and banditry was rife in the countryside, and caravans made an easy target. Calus also had much to risk- it was night-time and he was alone. His caravan was loaded not with trinkets; no- gold was not of much use to him- but with weapons. Muskets.
As the caravan trotted along silently in the dense woodland, Calus could hear the sound of hoofbeats in the distance. He dismissed the sound, believing it to be some knight or journeyman who meant no harm. But as the sound grew nearer, his attention toward the source of it grew higher, until at last fear overwhelmed him and he whipped his horses to move faster.
His frantic fear would have seemed ridiculous to any viewer present, but Calus knew well to trust to instinct and not to give in to curiosity. The Slovenian Village was more than a day's ride for a caravan, but he would still do his best to shorten the distance.
As he took flight, the hoofbeats drew nearer. He jolted his head back, and he could see multiple shadows in the distance. His horses were whipped until they were at their maximum speed, and even then they were no match for these fast-paced strangers. At last the figures had caught themselves ahead of the caravan, and finally Calus was forced to halt.
As his caravan slowed down into a steady stop, he could make out more than ten figures in the distance. Some held pikes in their grip, and upon the top of these pikes were banners, banners that were very familiar to him. Calus did his best to remain calm at the presence of this insignia, and the men who wielded it.
The banner held a golden harp within a blue background.
"The King demands that the contents of this carriage be confiscated," one of the figures demanded.
"Your King was cast out long ago," growled Calus.
The figure pointed his pike toward the man. "And now he has returned," he responded. "I will not request your cooperation again; do as I say or perish."
"I would die," breathed the man, "before I yielded these contents to you. Away with you, vile beggar! Your King is no King of mine."
The figure snickered as if responding to some joke, and then plunged his pike into the man's chest.
Chapter 1: Castle Avignon
The portcullis creaked and moaned as it lifted itself upwards. Several horsemen passed through the gate, at the sound of great horns. As they reached the castle courtyard and dismounted, a man lifted his helmet and revealed his face. It was a fair face, fair enough for a man in his early-30s, and his long hair was of ripe orange. His face bore that of a man who had been through much in his youth, endured through horrid times yet retained his honour.
His eyes were brown, and his leather armour simple. As he approached the steps of the castle, another man, much older but just as noble, greeted him with a smile.
"Milord Toon!" cried he. "How wonderful to meet your acquaintance yet again."
"Milord Silas," Toon bowed. "I see you have managed Castle Avignon fairly enough."
"Indeed, indeed," nodded Silas. "Come, come. Let us dine."
As the two made their way inside, the wooden doors creaked open. Castle Avignon was a fine one, with a splendid dining hall, a large kitchen and similarly large bedrooms awaiting upstairs. As the two made their way to the dining hall, Silas began to speak.
"I see you have managed the old Slovenian Village well," Silas grinned.
"Aye," responded Toon. "The bitter winds of the north haven't fared us much as the south does here in Avignon, but nonetheless I find it... adequate."
"Adequate?" growled Silas. "It sounds as if you appear ungrateful."
"Oh, of course not, Milord," bowed Toon. "I apologize, I did not mean-"
"Bah!" the old man cackled. "I merely jest. I can see, however, that your sense of nobility has not changed since last we met. Good, good, but remember that honour does not always meet justice."
"The two are never one without," Toon responded. "However, I do appreciate your teachings. You have done much in the benefit of me and mine, as well as the Northlands in general."
"Yes, yes," dismissed Silas. "Now, I know you have just yet arrived, but I would like to propose you something..."
"Of course, Milord," accepted Toon. The two stopped in the hallway. "Whatever do you suggest?"
Silas looked around, eager not to have their conversation heard by another source. When he had confirmed that the two were alone, he said in a hushed voice, "as you know, my daughter Sarah is nearing adulthood."
"Aye," responded Toon. "What of it?"
"Well," Silas groaned, "as of late she's been demanding of a suitor, a candidate, if you will. And, well, I could not think of a better candidate than..."
"Milord!" Toon's eyes widened. "Surely you do not mean- but, Milord, the North is no place for a lady, and I myself would not be a comfortable husband!"
"How so?"
"Milord, surely you could seek a less active husband. I find it difficult enough to govern the North already, and I would not have enough time to attend to her bedchamber-"
"Hmmph. I see. It appears I have spoiled our conversation. My apologies. Let us speak no more of the matter."
Toon nodded in relief and the two continued down the hall into the dining room.
Chapter 2: The Northmen
The feast was grand, perhaps worthy of song; Toon had eaten little, but Silas himself had seen himself buried in piles of fried pig and roasted chicken. The feast had gone down late into the evening, and finally both men had retired themselves into the bedchamber.
The next morning, Silas went out to hunt. He had given Toon position of Manager of the Kingdom in his absence. His table was drowned in letters, and he had spent the entire day answering them. As the sun died down, a stranger came to see him.
"Milord?" she walked in.
Toon pointed his face upward. His eyes laid upon a fine, young woman, with great blonde hair, as fine as silk and as bright as gold. Her eyes were blue, and her face seemed innocent, unfamiliar with the terrors of the outside world. She wore a red, noble dress, and at her gentle feet white heels.
But Toon seemed unshaken by her appearance. "My lady," he nodded. "Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?"
"I am Lady Sarah, daughter of Lord Silas," she responded.
"My Lady!" Toon stood back. "What brings you to my presence?"
"I simply wanted to see you," she replied. "The face of one of the Northmen. Father always spoke of them in high regard, as great warriors without care for much. But you have the look to prove his words wrong."
"The Northmen are fierce warriors," smiled Toon. "But they all seek better things than mere warfare; some for peace, some for family."
"It is a shame they don't come down from the North anymore," Sarah sighed.
"The last time they came down, they helped bring down the greatest dynasty the world has ever seen," Toon replied.
"With the help of my father," Sarah added.
"Aye, with the help of your father."
"Father told me tales of the war. He spoke of you, claiming that you banded together with him to bring down the tyrant."
"We do not speak of his name, but yes. Together we helped free this nation, and in reward he gave me the North."
"Indeed. And how is it- the North?"
"Cold. Very cold. No place for one such as yourself. Brigands are more common there, drunken thieves they are. But perhaps you may visit the Slovenian Village one day."
"If father would ever allow me."
At that moment, great horns sounded. Silas had returned from his hunt.
"Ah, there he is. I must see to him now. Perhaps we may speak of the North later."
"Aye, later perhaps."
Sarah quickly left the room, leaving a bewildered Toon leaning on the table.
Chapter 3: The Harp
"Swiftly now," Alexander urged. "Go, back to the fort!"
Argaan hurried back up the path as Alexander snickered. Argaan was only 8 years old, yet was highly skilled in archery. Alexander, on the other hand, was already a young adult, with rough black hair and a handsome enough face. The steady sound of a horse approached behind him. As he peered back, a lone rider came up and jeered his horse back.
"Lord Alexander," said he.
"Not Lord- just Alexander," corrected the man. "What do you want?"
"An urgent message from the watchmen," responded the rider, forcing a roll of paper into Alexander's hands. Alexander unfurled the paper and read it aloud.
"Lord Alexander," he repeated reluctantly, "the local watchman of the village of Twin Rivers beseeches you to send more men to our humble village. Recently, there occurred a bandit raid on a local caravan in the forest- this caravan bore weapons that were to arrive at the Slovenian Village today. But early this morning we uncovered the remains of this caravan; the driver dead and the contents stolen.
"If these bandits have gotten hold of these weapons, then we can only assume they plot some action of villainous intent. We can expect more raids in the local countryside, thus we request that a suitable amount of men reach our village so that we will not be raided by these bandits. Signed William the Village Elder."
Alexander growled. "Bandits. Rider, inform the Elder that he will not receive his reinforcements. Instead, I will send forth a local militia out into the woodlands to scour for this menace itself and re-confiscate the weapons."
The rider nodded and went on his way. Alexander hurried back up the path to the Slovenian Village. As he got up he noticed little Argaan awaiting him.
"I said go to the fort," demanded the man.
Argaan hurried along his way. Alexander caught a breath of fresh air and sighed. Then came upon him another rider, cloaked in blue. As he approached Alexander he frantically stopped his steed.
"Alexander, Sir!" he cried.
"Captain Farris?" replied the man.
"Our scouts have caught word," said the man, "that a naval force has been caught off the coast; the ships' sails have a dark blue insignia, with a golden harp upon it..."
"A harp, you say?" Alexander gulped. "How old is this report?"
"It was sighted by a watchtower nearly two hours ago."
"The report is expired. They might have already landed."
"What should we do, Sir?"
"How many servants have we in the Slovenian Fort?"
"A mere 40, Sir. The rest accompanied Lord Toon on his journey south."
"40, you say? Get them readied. Each one rides this afternoon."
WIP