The Greatest Chantry in Ferelden
You bid Tiania farewell, her concerns assuaged and you glad to meet the girl who is growing so close to Xandar. Despite that, the moment she is out of sight, you bellow for Saris and for Mark.
While messages are spread through the building, you turn your attention to what you can do to reinforce your rangers in their battle with the spiders as soon as possible. The trip to this Soldier's Peak will have to wait until afterwards, for example. You can get construction started on the chantry and school, then deal with recruitment.
For a moment you entertain the idea of bringing the new recruits to the fight, but you swiftly see the foolishness in such an idea and discard it. When the plans are nearing completion, Mark and Saris arrive.
"Your lordship." The androgenous elf says with an almost sarcastic bow.
"Sir! What do you need?" The standard bearer adds, saluting enthusiastically.
"Thank you both for arriving so promptly." You reply, choosing to ignore the elf's not quite disrespect for now. "I will keep this brief, as time runs short. Mark, how many of the infantry are still in Endataurëo?"
Mark blinks in confusion, or perhaps exhaustion. "Five, sir. It's the night shift who've just come in."
"If they are abed, wake them. If they are not, tell them to get ready to march." You instruct him.
"Sir." Mark begins.
"I agree that it would be best to let them sleep." You speak before he can continue. "Yet the world is not so kind as to let us do what is best. The spiders of the forest are trying to smash apart our defences. The rangers need reinforcements, and the labourers need an escort."
Mark's face shows the conflicting emotions he is experiencing, yet in the end duty wins out. "Yes sir."
With a nod, you turn to Saris. "I need you to organise the labourers. We will be travelling to Gladesville where I will leave you in charge."
"In charge of what my lord?" The elf asks blandly. "What work are we to be undertaking?"
"I have created plans for a chantry and a school in Gladesville, and the labourers will be building it, while you will be overseeing construction."
"A chantry my lord? I have no experience in such matters, surely it is a matter for your august person." The elven leader replies.
"Firstly, you will cease your empty flattery at once." You command. "I have no interest in those whose every other word is some compliment they do not mean. As for your skill, do not fear. I have created a series of plans and will be overseeing the initial learning stage of construction."
Another almost sarcastic bow. "Of course, my lord."
You are going to need to watch this one.
With the assistance of the two leaders it takes relatively little time to prepare to depart. Preparing supplies requires some assistance from Karla and the other housekeepers but is aided by one of the carts purchased last week.
You quickly recruit Merrill and Xandar for their magical support, and Minhowen is bringing her healers and herbs along regardless of what you say. Since you had no intention of leaving them behind, you consider that a benefit.
The trip itself is reasonably tense, thanks to the risk of attack, but mercifully none emerges. Instead, you use the time to go over your plans.
"This week is mostly going to be about filling in the foundations and getting the structure worked out in the space rather than on paper." You explain, showing Saris and one of the sharper labourers your designs.
"What kind of school is three stories tall!" The labourer exclaims.
"The kind that is going to have many students. The time for design critique is passed, focus on the construction." You reprimand him.
"So basically, we're building a set of pillars in the great big hole and measuring stuff with sticks?" Saris clarifies. "That's doable. Better than I was expecting."
Of course it is, you were hardly going to leave him alone for any of the truly difficult parts. You have nightmares about some of the things human builders get up to unsupervised.
While Gladesville is happy to see you, there is a palpable sensation of fear. Your other warriors stand on the walls, weapons close to hand and demeanour nervous. Despite, or perhaps because of, this there are several people willing to help out with the construction of their chantry.
For your part, you turn your mind to the materials you are going to need.
You want enough stone to ensure that work will be able to continue uninterrupted until the chantry is complete. This means you need to send a message.
Fortunately, you have a large body of volunteers who can do that for you while you instruct the others on how to build the chantry you are envisioning. You take some time to write down your order, and the details of how to get payment. You let everyone know that you need two messengers one to go Endataurëo and have Martin and Delora pick up and pay for the stone, the other for the local quarry.
Once the both of them are speeding on their way you turn to your labourers, the two builders who are looking at the pit apprehensively and a few other volunteers.
"It will take some time for the materials to get here, in that time we shall measure out, and plan our actions. Then I shall take you to a different site and we will create a mock up, to teach you the skills necessary and to demonstrate my design." You inform the crowd. "Are there any questions before we begin?"
There are none, and work begins immediately. Measuring is a task you can safely delegate to the brothers who do most of the building in Gladesville. That gives you time to find a place for the mock up.
Given that you do not have stone on hand makes it hard to really give meaningful experience to the builders, but you can use the nature of movement to your advantage. Rather than developing tricks and techniques in the manner of a specialist, you work with Maron and Lauron to have the labourers practice movements and technique by rote.
The results are not master builders, but it does result in people unlikely to cause a mistake that will fundamentally undermine the foundations they will be building. Lauron and Maron are at least confident that they can keep a watch for anything truly egregious while you are gone.
You also take the time to explain your plans in greater detail to Saris and his assistant. Understanding what the end goal is, and how the actions they are taking lead to it is not only good for morale, but ensures they know why mistakes are mistakes and can take initiative if necessary. You doubt either could build this alone, but you hope it is sufficient.
The final thing you do before you march away with your warriors to the battlefield is to run everyone involved through the process of making mortar. A few people had proposed creating simple stacks held in place by the weight of the building.
At first you laughed.
It was not a joke.
Fortunately, you have long experience explaining concepts that should be obvious to humans, so you manage to have a functional, though hardly ideal, substance being created by the time you need to leave.
While overseeing the first foundation pillar being constructed, Mark comes up to speak to you.
"Sir, I know we're only stopping for a bit, but some of the lads are nervous. It's our first time in combat and we're all either eager to get it over with or worrying endlessly in the break." The human reports, shifting nervously.
"Speaking from experience, I would advise you all to find a place to sleep while you can." You reply. "Fighting through exhaustion may sound heroic in song, but I assure you it is a singularly unpleasant experience."
"With respect sir, I think most of us are too wired to sleep." Mark responds, fidgeting. "It's our first time, like I said."
You glare at the nearby workers who snickered at the comment and ignore Mark's blush. Whatever strange human joke that was, you have little interest in mockery of such a serious topic.
"If you cannot sleep, perhaps you can lend your aid to the other workers. Take your mind off of things that way." You propose.
Mark's face brightens, and he turns to obey, when a thought occurs to you.
"Stop." You interrupt him before he can get more than two steps away. "That was a poor idea. It will slow us down when it is time to depart. Unless you find the idea of working in full kit attractive?"
Mark grimaces. "Can't say I do, but what then? Sir."
Fingers tapping against your thigh in impatience, you turn your mind to the challenge before you. If your warriors are thrumming with nervous energy, they need something to do. Not to mention you still need to start recruiting, if only so there is more time for people to hear of the opportunity. Perhaps you could combine these problems.
As you think Mark raises a hand to cover a yawn. Bringing exhausted men to this fight is unwise, if only you could switch the shifts…
Feeling stupid, you instruct Mark. "Tell your shift to take up Gladesville's defence. Defending a wall will be easier than holding a shield wall, if you even need to fight at all."
"Sir?" The standard bearer replies, confused.
"I will take the shift that is awake into battle, you and your shift can stay here and pick off any stragglers." You repeat yourself.
Mark struggles with his own sense of duty and desire to be involved, but in the end he and his shift are simply too tired to be of much use to you. That does not solve either of the problems you have before you, but it does give you more time to consider your options.
Fundamentally you need something for the warriors to do and you need someone to begin the recruitment process. You could go yourself, with the warriors' nerves easily solved by sending them ahead, it would even get reinforcements to Anneth faster. It would mean that you would be delayed from taking command though.
Then again, sending the soldiers to recruit their new companions would let you get to Anneth as fast as Orundomë will take you. Though it will mean that the infantry will take time to catch up, not to mention most of the recruits will be those who want to join that particular unit. Though perhaps some former mercenaries or hedge knights might decide they are impressed enough to join up.
There is the final option of simply telling the teacher who has instructed your infantry so far. Sir Avan is more than capable of finding people to teach, and likely will be happy to continue making his students someone else's problem. Though he will simply provide those he is already instructing as infantry.
Regardless of what you decide, the healers and Merrill are going to the fight as soon as possible. Minhowen will not be dissuaded by danger, and you will not allow them to go undefended. Merrill is the biggest force multiplier you possess so it must be her.
When the messengers arrive to take your notes about the, you include a note for the human knight. The messenger to the quarry will be passing his manor on the way to his destination, and you deemed it the best option for how you are going to recruit people this week.
It is simply too important for you and your additional warriors to reach Anneth. You cannot afford to lose anyone to the spiders with the Blight looming ever closer. Thus, though you know it will harm recruitment, you have no choice but to trust the knight.
You ride away with your warriors, healers and Merrill in tow. Behind you your labourers begin working towards your vision for what the chantry will look like.
Maron knows that neither he nor his brother are the greatest builders in the land. He's content with what he knows, and happy to work quietly in this village in the middle of nowhere. Still, his pride does sting as he looks over the designs for the chantry Nelyafinwë is building.
"I've never seen anything like this before." The elf in charge, Saris he thinks, observes.
"Ain't exactly your job to criticise, is it?" Lauron says.
Maron suppresses a groan, his brother needs to stop antagonising people.
The elf gets a shifty look, glancing between the two of them, then smiles insipidly. "Of course not, I was merely offering an opportunity for my betters to explain what I don't understand."
The way the elf speaks disgusts Maron, he doesn't know what the elf's game is, just that he has one. It doesn't help that he's never seen anything quite like the plans either.
The drawings are done in a steady, even elegant hand, every note has a level of penmanship that makes him deeply envious. The drawings are obviously less skilled, but still readily comprehensible. Frankly, it amazed him that the elf lord had effectively scrawled this out in less than an hour.
"Alright. None of this matters." Maron interrupts the argument that was brewing as he thought. "We're doing the foundations and nothing else. I say we divide the trench into threes and we each supervise all the groups in our third. Fair?"
Lauron, a loyal brother, nods immediately. The elf gets that scheming look again.
"I'm sure that there are better ways to divide the work. You two are the experts after all, I'd be more than happy to supervise the workers while you two focus on more important matters." Saris offers.
"We're. Just. Doing. The. Foundations." Maron says. "There's no grander scheme. We put the pillars where they need to go and that's it."
"Besides, we need to be checking spaces and technique, it's too much for one person." Lauron adds snidely.
The elf nods, smiling, but Maron is certain he's upset. The elder brother rubs his forehead to ease his mounting headache. His brother will be the death of him.
The work itself was reasonably routine, it reminded him of his apprenticeship though admittedly from the other side of the relationship. Lots of double checking and re-explaining how things are supposed to be done. It always surprises him the things that people don't know, like how to measure something.
Even that 'mortar' stuff proves easier to work with than he thought, he'd assumed that it would be sticky like tar, but it's more like clay. Admittedly, if you get it on your skin it doesn't exactly come off easy, but you can spread it with a trowel or knife.
Over the course of the week the foundations take their shape. Laying stones in such a way that there's no clear seam running through them isn't anything new, though their exact placement and density is something they mut more thought into.
When the week ends and tools are downed, Maron is reasonably proud of their progress. The 'mortar' has hardened into something smooth and glasslike to the touch, almost invisible next to the stone. The stone itself was a dark grey with a small amount of black set aside and smooth as the Mortar.
The pillars in the pit rise like dark spires, fortresses as sturdy as mortal craft can make them. He hasn't even seen the finished product and he can already tell that whoever these 'Noldor' were, they were quite the builders.
He also suspected that he wouldn't want to be on their bad side.
A Call to Colours
To Sir Avan, noble knight of Ferelden.
I greet you, loyal servant of Lady Wyn. It is my hope that you are well, and that you find your chosen profession fulfilling. Your students speak highly of you, and I have been most satisfied with their performance. As I write to you, they are marching to their first battle, and I know they will do you proud.
To turn to more prosaic topics, I find myself in the unexpected position of requiring additional soldiers yet lacking the time to recruit them. Given your previous sterling service, and unmatched reputation I have decided to turn to you to solve this problem.
I do not know if you currently have any students or know of any warriors in need of a master, if you do then please direct them to me. The terms of their employment are thus:
Each shall be entitled to food, rest and shelter so long as they remain in my employment.
Each shall be outfitted in arms and armour as befits their role.
Each shall receive a total pay of twenty coppers a day, paid weekly.
All shall comport themselves with the discipline and professionalism expected of their role.
Further details regarding expectations and regulations can be found in the attached document.
I look forward to your response and hope to receive yet more of your excellent students into my service.
Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol Maedhros 'i Orchal' minyasén Fëanaro
Sir Avan puts the letter down after he finishes reading it. Of all the things he had expected when someone he was reasonably sure was wanted for banditry in another Bannorn knocked on his door, this was not what he was expecting to be handed.
True to the letter's promise, there was another document in the envelope detailing the rules and expectations held for the warriors who served the strange elf lord hiding in the woods.
The knight stares at the paper on his desk in shock. He doesn't see a reason not to comply with the instructions of the elf, especially given his ascension to a higher form of nobility. There's just one thing bothering him.
"Who writes a letter like this?" He asks the air.
When he starts putting out feelers in his local circles, he's surprised by the response he gets. A lot of people are interested in hearing about the 'wizard of the forest'. When he explains that he's employing soldiers people quickly lose interest. Still, he does get one down on his luck squire who's interested in putting his skills to the test.
After the initial interest, he feels satisfied with the effort he's put in, seeing no reason to stretch himself between his usual duties and this request. Thus he's surprised when a few days later a pair of twins walk in his door and ask it the 'wizard' is still hiring.
He presses the girls closely with questions, suspicious of two young girls joining a group of warriors without a parent in sight, but they clam up. Even when shown the details of what they will be expected to do and horror stories of training accidents and harsh discipline they remain resolute.
With a sigh he decides it's not his problem and gives them details of where to go. Certain that he is finished with this matter now he allows it to slip from his mind.
Which is why he is surprised when yet another person approaches him about it several days later.
The knight was walking about the town 'inspecting the defences', in actuality enjoying the sunshine while it lasts, when a voice calls out to him.
"Honourable Sir Avan! You are the one who is looking for the warriors with great skill, yes?"
The man who had spoken was a tanned man, with a neatly rimmed goatee and long black hair. Dressed in red and yellow with wide sleeves and tightly fitting pants, his accent and dress placed him as hailing from somewhere in the Imperium. The sword at his side suggested some kind of martial training.
"I represent an elf lord who is looking for those willing to serve in his retinue, yes." Sir Avan replies carefully.
"Ha hah! Well look no further, for it is I! Cocycus, the bravest and most talented of soldiers in Thedas!" The man says, sweeping his pointed hat from his head in a flourishing bow.
"Can't say I've heard of you." The knight says.
"Never heard. Sir, I am wounded! Wounded I say!" Cocycus replies. "I have ventured across the length and breadth of Thedas, my deeds are legend, they sing songs of me as far away as the lands of the Qunari! Surely you jest."
"Are you going to waste my time further, or are you just here to brag?" Avan asks tiredly.
"Ah, you are a non-believer. Very well, draw your blade, Cocycus the ever patient shall demonstrate his prowess before all these witnesses!" The man proclaims, drawing his sword.
Avan glances about at the two men leaning on a fence post, staring dully at the interaction, then to a harassed looking woman corralling three children across the street.
"Put that away." He says, sighing. "Duelling's illegal, besides which I have no interest in getting cut up for a simple recruiting pitch. If you want to join up, we'll head back to my house, and I'll show you the paperwork."
"Sir! I cannot believe that you would cast doubts upon my skill, then simply walk away! What of my honour, sir?" Cocycus asks incredulously. "Besides which, I have no interest in becoming a mere grunt. Nay, one of my skills can offer much to those willing to pay, but I shall not become mere fodder in their armies."
"Frankly I don't see how any of that is my problem." Avan drawls. "If you're not interested in the job, I see no reason for this conversation to continue."
The knight turns to walk away, only to freeze at the touch of steel on his bare neck.
"This is a matter of honour sir." The Tevinter man states. "If I cannot have satisfaction in blood, I shall content myself with sweat. Dull blades, padded armour, a spar. Should I prove victorious, then I shall take not only my satisfaction, but your personal recommendation to this 'elf lord'."
Avan licks his dry lips. "You're threatening a knight of Ferelden."
"I threaten nothing, sir." Cocycus replies. "I am informing you that I shall have satisfaction, in sweat or blood."
For a moment that seemed an hour silence reigned over the street. Finally, the knight of Ferelden nodded.
"A spar then."
Within the confines of the village square, for Avan had no dedicated training area, nor the village a tourney ground, the two men face each other. Avan has a dulled training blade, two handed and heavy, and his full plate. Cocycus on the other hand, has donned gambeson and brought a number of light javelins and a buckler.
Beneath the midday sun the two faced each other a time. Then, the lighter armoured man snatches up a javelin and throws it. Avan turns his cheek and the wooden weapon glances off his helm. When he returns his gaze to his foe, he finds the man upon him.
Like a serpent the slim blade soeeks the gaps in his plate. Elbow and knee, eye and groin. Avan fends them all off, struggling to find time to riposte in the flurry.
When finally he has his chance, the lightly armoured Tevinter springs away lightly, his own blade glancing off Avan's gauntlet.
Their spar continues in this manner for some time as the sun blazes above. Finally, sir Avan raises his hand.
"Enough! Enough, I am dying in this heat." He pants.
"Then you yield?" Cocycus asks. "For I am as fresh as a daisy, and can happily continue until you collapse of exhaustion."
Avan will grant that he is not panting so heavily, nor so covered in sweat, but the Tevinter man's face is red, and he no longer springs so energetically to attack. Yet, the knight is not too proud to admit that he is worse off.
"Aye. You shall have your recommendation. I'll show you the way and write it up after I've had a drink." The knight concedes.