Chapter VII: The Frigid Fortress
Week 4, Day 5, Morning, Clear
It was a day's ride away, and by Tog was it strenuous. Once the ground was eaten up by snow half a day in, and the temperature dropped dramatically, I began to wonder why I was making this trek in the first place. Then again, if this 'Captain Gareth' could aid in rebuilding the town of which I planted my stakes…
"Tog's wrath, my bits are freezing off!" Dedric stuttered, shivering as we plowed through the snow.
"We're all freezing here, Dedric." I said, trying not to openly shiver as he was. I was taking the largest toll of them all, unfortunately, as my untempered body of nobility was scarcely in extreme weather without some form of protection. Now, I was only braving this with a spare cloak from Haedyr (it befuddled me that he somehow conveniently had all the supplies necessary since we met him) and the light clothing on me. Speaking of Haedyr, I had decided to leave him to guard the settlement with Amelia, Prina and Melina, and took Dedric, Henrik and Karina with me to Henshin's Fortress.
It had dawned upon me, after speaking to Haedyr only a few hours before the trek, that Haedyr was, in fact, donning the armor of a dead knight. It was almost needless to say that knights in Moneia lived by a form of code called the "Temur Principle", which relies heavily on justice, forthrightness, humility, order and above all, honor.
One of the most dishonorable things a person could do to a knight is to desecrate his body after death by taking their armor, weaponry and equipment like a vulture. Sure, there were many scavengers of battlefields who didn't care for this honorable standard, but if they were caught by practically any other knight in the entire continent, their head would quickly be separated from their bodies.
And considering that we were soon to enter a fortress with (from what Henrik had told me) over fifty sworn knights from dozens of different banners and houses, along with the captain of the knightsguard, I deduced that Haedyr would singlehandedly get us all executed if he were to come along.
There was a reason as to why I chose and left the people I did. With Haedyr, the answer was obvious. In regards to Amelia and Prina, I hardly knew them enough to trust them with such a daunting mission as this. Venturing into an unfamiliar territory, requesting assistance and supplies from an unknowable sovereignty's fortress, carried solely on the vouching of two lordsguard… this was something that required a trustworthy band of people.
As for Melina, there were two reasons: firstly, she was the only person whom I trusted to run that little shack settlement in my stead. Secondly, after hearing of her fugitive status from her own lips, I didn't want to risk potentially bringing a diplomatic explosive into a random territory. Even with all the political knowledge in my head, there were still connections I didn't know, networking and relationships hidden from the common texts.
Lastly, as to why I brought Dedric along- despite his appearance belying banditry, and his incredibly uncouth and abrasive behavior, he was reliable to a fault. A decent fighter, keen senses, and enough distrust in his mind for a group of four. He was the perfect counterbalance to the oft-manipulative, intimidating and awe-inspiring atmosphere of Moneian nobility.
I noted (quite nervously) how I was starting to lose sense in my fingertips. It did surprise me, nonetheless, that I had gone so long before I started to suffer dramatically from this type of weather. It emboldened me to believe that I was built with some resilience, at least.
Nonetheless, we had to get out of this dreadful-
"Look!" Dedric yelled, disrupting my train of thought as he pointed northwards. "Castle!"
We did indeed gaze over.
Lo and behold, a mighty fortress stood in front of us, its large, gray-bricked walls expanding to either side, manned by soldiers on every rampart and balustrade. Banners of the Henshin Settlement draped over every battlement, whipped around wildly by the snowstorm storm. Only one set of iron gates was present, as the grimly grand entrance into the daunting fort.
I couldn't help but feel my excitement begin to spark. These structures, this landscape...I had never truly felt like I was in such a fascinating world back at my old home. I had been confined to that painfully tedious estate for all my life, having only trained in literature, swordsmanship and etiquette. Granted, my father brought me to the nearby towns, but I was always under heavy guard when I did head out.
Of course, I never intended to blame my father, I knew he was a good man...but possibly too overprotective for my own good.
"Tog, that place is big…" Dedric muttered right into my ear. I turned my head towards him in annoyance.
"Did that really need to be said so close to me?" I remarked with distaste. He shrugged, of course, which at this point I was used to his frustrating non-verbal replies; I was beginning to shed some of my high-class habits as time passed with these adventurers.
Nonetheless, I was still impressed by his remarkably perceptive nature. He was deceptively keen, especially when he acted like such a doddering fool at times at times like this. I hadn't even glimpsed the fortress beforehand, despite being at the front of the pack, due to the snowstorm's dense nature-
"My Lord, I don't mean to interrupt your...sightseeing, but mayhaps we could get inside and out of the cold?" Henrik suddenly perked up.
"Oh, er, my folly." I muttered apologetically. I made a mental note to cease my ponderings in active situations. "Let's get in."
We trudged up to those unnerving iron gates, staring up at the guardsmen manning the walls. I was a bit amused by how they were visibly shivering. From afar, they looked to be almost stone-like sentinels. It sort of ruined the immersion of an impressive-
"Uh, My lord?" Henrik piped up again, this time a little less polite.
DAMN IT! I thought in embarrassment, realizing I had just spaced out again. Pull yourself together, man!
"Hello?" I shouted up to the walls, my voice squeaking slightly, causing me to cringe inwardly.
"Who...goes...there?"
I furrowed my eyes at the words coming from above. It sounded as if someone were trying to poorly imitate some sort of haunting specter.
I was about to respond when I felt a chainmail gauntlet grab my shoulder.
"My lord, if you could allow me to handle this?"
I nodded hesitantly. He was more likely to be acquainted with the men of this fort.
"Thank you, my lord." He said, turning to the wall. "Dary, quit your foolish antics, you bored basterd!"
I was taken aback by the response he barked at the wall, becoming nervous by his sudden verbal lash. Was insulting the guardsman a smart move?
"...Henry, is that you?"
"It's Henrik! Not Henry! Tog, did two more years in this fort freeze your brain over more than it already has been?"
"Definitely you, Henrik. Nobody else could be such a shining arsehole. Is Karina still with ya?"
"Let us in and you'll see."
A moment of silence followed.
"Er, we can't really just let in whoever we please, Henrik…we haven't a clue who these fellows with you are."
"Tell Captain Ruthran that I, Henrik Castermeyer, officialized Lordsguard of the 70th Knights Order, do hereby vouch for these 'fellows'."
"Wait, your last name's Castermeyer?"
"Just tell the Captain already, for Tog's sake, Dary!"
Moments passed as the guard was seen receding from the walls. We shivered in the cold, and my desperation to reach some form of warmth increased ever-constantly. Finally, after a few more minutes of standing in this Tog-awful storm, the gates suddenly opened, and we were beckoned in by a few of the guardsmen behind it.
I was only more impressed by the layout of the castle within. The courtyard was the first place we entered after the killbox (a small box between the first and second gates, so as to trap invaders and allow for defenders to throw and pour unpleasantries such as rocks and burning oil onto them). Banners of blue and green flew briskly in the fervent winds, displaying that of a swordsman's foot placed upon a rock, his face turned proudly upward towards the sky. The origin of their banner was taught to me in my younger education, as was done with all young aristocrats; understanding allegiances, politics, and nations was the bread and butter of any self-respecting noble.
Lord Herle Metrinne, the ruler of the Province of Freze (where this fortress was located), started out as a humble ice harvester in Jomsport. The utter lack of resources in Freze and corrupt bureaucracy of the frozen wasteland of a province led many to flock to Jomsport, where Herle used his charisma and strong standing in the community to effect his own lordship. It was only a matter of time and years until he seized the throne of Freze for himself; which he did, deposing the original ruler and his council and banishing them to the cold wastes of southern Skarendyva.
From that point on, Lord Metrinne had transformed the province of Freze into a burgeoning trade hub of interconnected cities, towns, forts and villages. He began importing resources like wood and oil to keep the townships of his province heated and insulated, and managed to amass a near-fanatically loyal following from both his citizens and military thanks to these improvements of quality of life.
From what I've heard of the man's character, he was intense, a thorough disciplinarian, and terrifyingly spiteful to those who he believed had wronged him. At the same time, he was said to be upright, honest, compassionate, and a leader amongst men in any given circumstance. I had faith that his subordinates and appointed nobility would emulate some of his characteristics; as was expected of magnetic and overwhelming personalities.
The courtyard was large, with a sizable training field and some pitched tents. The blacksmith, stables and some rather fine housing made up parts of the large, white field. Beyond that, I could see the barracks and armory attached to the side of the inner wall. Overall, I was summarily impressed by the layout that I could glimpse on the walk to the keep.
We were led from the entrance to a door in the side of the inner wall, where we were greeted by tight-spaced halls and fine stonework lining the ground, walls and low ceilings. I noted subtly the sheer amount of soldiers leading us to this Ruthran fellow.
From what I could count as we bumbled forward through the claustrophobic-inducing hallways, there were over 16 variously-dressed guards escorting us, something I considered to be 'overkill'; a word Dedric had once said to me when I proposed using his flintlock for hunting.
Finally, the hallway opened up into a lobby of sorts. I wasn't particularly focused on the decor around me, as I was too busy shaking with anticipation at this upcoming meeting.
Only a few weeks ago, I had fled from the burning estate that had been my home for all my years, and only a day ago, I had taken refuge in an abandoned, derelict village of which I summarily claimed to be the last throes of my legacy.
Now, I was about to stand before a prestigious individual, presiding over thousands of soldiers, and under the rule of a powerful noble lording over this region, who in turn was subservient to a royal monarch of the nation that ultimately served under the mighty King Murden Staltine of Morvenica, the nation that presides over the other nations in Moneia on a continental scale.
Needless to say, I was a bit unnerved.
"Captain Ruthran shall see ya now."
The informal invitation from what looked to be a bored guardsmen threw me off. It almost shattered the daunting, fantastical picture I had of this whole ordeal.
"Erm...of course."
I noticed we had come to a stop in front of a set of dark-oak double doors, which seemed reinforced and bulky enough that a battering ram would have a difficult time taking it down.
One of the heavyset doors was pushed open by the inviting guardsman, who led us into the officer's quarters. The room itself was sizable, in that there was a large map of the entire region of Frezen on the floor, marked up with various rivers, landmarks and such. Various drawers and cabinets lined the sides of the room, some of them left ajar to reveal what I assumed to be documents over the fortress and all of its residents. Tapestry of Frezen nobility, fabled battles and other historic affairs decorated the walls, and wall-torches caged in metal marked the spaces in between each fabric.
Sitting behind the large map, in front of the two large windows that encapsulated the back wall, was a large, bulky man in a chair, behind a refined-looking dark-oak desk. A wall-sized window framed the background and allowed one to peer over the majority of the fortress interior. His hands were clasped and his elbows were placed on the oaken surface as he peered over at us inquisitively.
"Hello there."
His prompt response unnerved me. It felt as if I had walked in to plead mercy for a heinous crime.
"...Good day to you, sir." I responded, placing one hand over my sternum and bowing. Lifting my head thereafter, I was befuddled to note that Sir Ruthran had not moved from his position at all.
"Er...may I shake your hand, Sir Ruthran?"
The un-helmed knight seemed to hesitate for a moment, which left the atmosphere a bit awkward. In the silence, I began to notice little details on the desk, all of which led me to wonder of this captain's occupational purposes. Some documents were turned into paper mache, cards were stacked on top of one another like a pyramid, and there were some surprisingly good drawings on empty parchment shoved into the corner.
"Uh, yeah, sure!" He replied rather casually.
And just like that, the tension in the atmosphere shattered. The bulky individual got up from his seat and walked over with a friendly gait, outstretching his hand to me. I was stunned. Only a few seconds ago, he gave off such an intimidating aura that I nearly buckled at the knees.
What the hell is wrong with this country?! I thought in frustration. Are people always this ridiculous?
I took his hand, shaking it firmly, something my father had made plenty sure to instill in me.
A good handshake is like the quality of a ruler. Your grip must be neither too rough nor too lax, but firm and fair, so as to let the other know you are tough yet willing to compromise.
By the way Sir Ruthran nodded in approval, I assumed the lesson paid off. Another reason to redeem the legacy of the great man that was my father.
Meanwhile, I noticed Sir Ruthran looking past me to the ensemble gathered in the doorway.
"Um...you may head back to your stations, gentlemen."
The soldiers seemed reluctant to follow that order, and for a number of reasons I could empathize with them. Yet return they did, shuffling out of the doorway.
"Er...don't ya want some protection, mate?" Dedric piped up randomly. I had to suppress the urge to slap him upside the head for not properly addressing this man, but Ruthran didn't seem to notice nor care, which made me think back to what Henrik had said about this man being only recently employed to his station.
"Oh, you're right!" Sir Ruthran exclaimed, turning his attention back to the retreating soldiers. "Two of you, come back and take station in the- no, not all of you!" He added on as we watched the entirety of the platoon shuffle back into the room. "Ah, whatever."
Wait, what?! I thought to myself. You're just going to allow all SIXTEEN guardsmen to just idle in the room?!
This man beckoned me to take a seat in front of his desk as he got comfortable in his own chair, and all sixteen guardsmen either laid against the walls with polearms in hand or sat on the floor like wandering vagrants. It was understandable that this frozen swath of a fortress wasn't enjoyable to live in- but for Tog's sake, I didn't feel anything like a noble in this situation.
"Be my guest, Mister…"
"Avonnius Crestentille."
"Avon then, for short."
BURN IN THE FIERY PITS OF HELL YOU DAMN-
I withheld my abject rage at yet another bastard shortening my name to their liking- but nonetheless took a seat, looking back awkwardly at my entourage of fellows, all of who seemed content with standing up, and thus leaving me to sit by myself across from Sir Ruthran.
Trying to sweep this stupidity under the rug, I turned back to Ruthran, composing myself properly by straightening my posture in the chair and maintaining eye contact with the knight. I noticed his eyes suddenly drifting to my right, as if something was catching his attention.
"I won't take up too much of your time, Sir Ruthran. I came from Myres, and my father's-"
"Henrik, Karina, is that you?!"
I was bewildered to find Ruthran getting up from his chair and walking over to where Henrik and Karina stood behind me. The two clasped into a brotherly hug while the soldiers present in the room began to crowd around the three of them, laying their polearms against the wall.
"By Tog, is that really you, Henrik, Karina?"
"It's been a long time, comrades!"
"Karina, you've gotten more mature, haven't you!"
I was both perplexed and doubly enraged by Ruthran's actions. Was he not informed of their visit, despite Henrik telling the guardsman that those two were here? What exactly happened in communication between our visit at the wall and reaching the Captain's quarters?!
"Well, Gareth," Henrik spoke up. "It's good to see you again, but I believe this man-"
He pointed at me.
"-Has some important matters he needs to address with you."
I was a bit grated that he suddenly went from addressing me as 'My Lord' to calling me a mere 'man', but I held my tongue. It took some humility to see that he was merely trying to network me with this influential fellow; I could toss aside these noble habits of mine for such a benefit, for now.
Gareth turned his attention to me, and looked to be embarrassed for having the audacity to interrupt our discussion.
"Oh, my folly, sir." He began. "Forgive me, I just had to greet my old training mates again."
Training mates? I wondered deviously. This information would be vital in negotiations.
"Er, not to be a ratch," Dedric suddenly said. "But din't the guardsman on the wall already tell you of their comin'?"
Ruthran tilted his head in curiosity, and I was somewhat relieved to see that Dedric had the same reasoning in his head as I.
"I don't believe I've met you, nor that shady-looking fellow over there." Lord Ruthran stated, glancing at Dedric.
"Name's Dedric. Nice to meet ya."
I nearly had a stroke of anxiety as I heard the informal greeting, pleading to Tog that Ruthran would overlook the absolute disrespect that Dedric had shown him.
"Ah, well, Dedric." He said, and I felt relieved that I didn't hear any condescension in his tone. "I wasn't particularly listening to whom the guests were at the moment, as I was busy with...tasks."
I resisted the urge to outwardly express irritation. I still couldn't figure out why this entire ordeal was a circus act.
"Anyways…" Ruthran diverted. "Many apologies for interrupting you." He said, bringing his gaze back to me.
"It is of no consequence, Lord Ruthran." I obliged.
He nodded, and went back to his seat, scooting up to his desk, then placing his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands.
"So, Mister Avon, what is the purpose of your visit?"
As I finished recounting the somewhat-brief synopsis on how I came to end up here, I subtly noted the solemn faces around me.
"I… am sorry about your loss, Lord Avon-"
Finally, I thought in satisfaction, though I chastised myself for finding pleasure in what was supposed to be a humbling encounter.
"-But you said you took up refuge in an abandoned town near here?"
"Yes."
"We'd be glad to offer you a place to stay here, in the fort, temporarily. On top of that, seeing as you're the heir to a noble's estate, there is a good chance we could find you a small estate to lay claim to in Verdance, in honor of your father's status."
I hesitated, and felt an inflammation of outrage as I noticed the subtle expression of pity on Ruthran's face. In this entire time I had been worrying over what to do next, and in the heat of the past few weeks, I had nearly forgotten many of the privileges I was afforded as nobility.
In the case that a noble's estate were to be razed or destroyed (if it were not their fault, of course), that noble or their heir (if the noble were to die in the event) could be granted another estate within the province or nation, most usually one that was claimed by royalty or high nobility.
Since such high-profile individuals usually had claims on dozens, if not hundreds of estates, they would allow impoverished nobles or their heirs to claim these small estates and would grant them a sizable loan, in exchange for a higher tax on that region which the impoverished noble laid claim to as well as the expectation of paying off the loan. It was essentially a welfare program for the nobility.
It was a practical solution to my displacement, albeit an incredibly humiliating one. Frankly, I despised the idea of having to take someone else's land and work it under them with every fiber of my being and upbringing. I was taught, since infancy, that I was meant to rule.
I was a noble, for Tog's sake. My father grew his estate from nothing, as a wandering adventurer, with not a coin to his name. He was granted nobility by the local ruler with permission from the King, fostered trade between multiple cities and other estates, built up his own prestigious military, and above all fathered me, his only heir to the throne. I'd be damned if I were to accept this petty handout from the government!
"You could also sell that land to us for a market price. Since you laid claim as an official noble, and on unmarked territory (I would presume), you can sell the land rights to our military for building an outpost-"
"No." I said simply, heated by my own internal indignation and standing up from the chair. "I claimed that estate south of here for my own, and I shall grow it of my own accord! My father's legacy will not rest in ashes! Pithy the fool that tries and take all I have left from me!"
Ruthran's looked at me with wide eyes and mouth agape, as if in awe of what I said.
"Wow," He said. "I've never seen such passion to uphold a family's legacy. The nobles I've seen down south have been rather spineless compared to those up north. I like your grit!"
Suddenly, he took a parchment from a drawer in the desk and a quill from a bottle of ink and began writing fiercely. After a few moments, he put the quill back in the bottle and slid the paper over to me. I picked it up and read it.
"...You're giving me a portion of this fort's soldiers to help me?" I said with incredulity, looking up at Ruthran, who nodded positively.
"I am inspired by your drive, Avon." He said. "Not once in my life have I heard of a nobleman deprived of their entire holding within a single day, and still equipped with the drive to pick themselves up and rebuild. I think it's wonderful that you wish to pursue this, and I feel obligated to help you, as well. Since Henrik and Karina vouch for you, I have no reason to believe you'd lie about such things."
He showed me open palms, as if conceding the point.
"Of course," He said. "This also benefits me. These guardsmen are becoming slothful in their time at this boring, freezing fortress, so it'd be beneficial to have them become useful, for once. And of course, Lord Herle himself said that this region was lacking in established townships, and so this is a win-win for everyone. Nonetheless..."
Ruthran took the parchment back, reaching into his drawer and pulling out a stamp, as well as a bottle of wax. He took out a spoon, poured a bit of wax into the spoon, then heated it over a candle for a bit, before pouring the contents at the bottom right of the parchment. He then pressed the stamp firmly into the wax, leaving the seal of approval.
"...I am always open to helping those who are ready to help themselves."
Despite how demeaning that sounded, I was ecstatic to have received support in helping me rebuild. It felt as if I now had some substance in the claim to my father's legacy.
Captain Ruthran cleared his throat, placing out one open hand, to which I placed my palm onto his, and he placed his other hand over mine. This was an officiation ritual in Moneia which signified a vesting of powers.
"As Captain Ruthran, Commander of the Frezen Knightsguard, of House Metrinne, I hereby authorize you to commission twenty-four men-at-arms of the Henshin fortress for the claim you have made on land to which you profess as yours by right of nobility. As the sole heir to your rightful throne, and in light of your family's tragedy, you are recognized by the laws and consolidations of Moneia to hold all the privileges, powers and responsibilities of a Moneian noble. You are empowered with the right to knight those under your banner; You are empowered to raise a garrison for the defense of your estate; You are empowered with the right to tax your residents and make laws on your estate; You are empowered to pledge your fealty to any superior noble in the province which you reside; You are empowered to commission Beast Hunters to protect your settlement; You are empowered to make trade with Moneian nobility and foreign nobility which our sovereign King is not at war with; In times of crises, you are empowered to prioritize the welfare of your community and settlement over the responsibilities to your King, barring treason and insurrection."
"In exchange for these powers, as a noble, you are obligated to pay taxes to your provincial ruler; You are obligated to protect the citizenry and visitors of your estate; You are obligated to levy soldiers for your King when called upon in times of war; You are obligated to maintaining an open line of communication with the King and his subordinates; You are obligated to shelter nobles of Moneia in their times of need."
"Above all, as a Moneian noble, you have a right to consent to rule, and so do your subordinates. As a ruler, you are forbidden from preventing residents from leaving your estate, or keeping them in indefinite or permanent captivity; You are forbidden from making laws that require fealty to yourself on penalty of death or injury; You are forbidden from taking land from other nobles without declaring a Noble's War; You are forbidden from seizing generational and inherited properties of both nobility and the citizenry without consent; You are forbidden from stripping the Rights of Life from any person in Moneia, as outlined in the Moneian Constitution of Nations and People, and are forbidden from making laws which would impose upon these rights; You have the right to refuse or abandon fealty to your provincial ruler and operate as a city-state, at the cost of the protection and security of that ruler, but are still obligated to pay taxes to the King of your nation."
As the Captain finished up the official speech, he sighed a big breath of air and leaned back into his chair.
"Lord, that was a mouthful."
I nodded, almost humorously. The officiation ritual was something I already knew of, but having my position in our society reaffirmed was incredibly morale-boosting.
"Indeed." I replied simply. "So, I will be taking twenty-four of your men to help rebuild this town. Is there also supplies which I could take to aid in this?"
"Naturally." Ruthran replied. "We have an over-flowing storage house of timber, stone, metal and other resources, which haven't been used at all because our fortress was already built and no attacks have been made that required repair of the fortress. I'd say it's all yours, but I'd rather not drain the entire stock. Let's say… fifty percent of it."
I nodded enthusiastically. This trip couldn't have gone any better for me! I came in here thinking I would be rejected and thrown out into the barren snow, but it seemed I had seriously underestimated the incredibly-lucky circumstance of this fortress being so close (in walking distance) to my new estate.
"By the way," I inquired to the Captain. "Where is Lord Henshin? I presumed he would be in… you know… his fortress."
Captain Ruthran chuckled lightheartedly.
"'Tis the same thing I said." Ruthran declared. "But of course, Henshin is a young noble, and wanting for adventure like the rest of them. Once he found a gal in Jomsport, he ventured with an entourage of a small army towards the south- heading towards the province of Secide to sightsee. You can guess that Lord Metrinne was rather angry about his son running off to another province instead of building up his own… but I can't really blame the lad."
Ruthran leaned in to speak more quietly to me.
"Between you and me, I thought it was pretty dumb for Lord Metrinne to build a fortress bordering on a lush green province. Might as well have coaxed the lad over the border himself."
I nodded studiously. The more information I had on the surrounding nobility of the nation, the better.
"Well, I think that's about everything to discuss, right?" Captain Ruthran stated formally, offering a hand to shake. "I'll leave the soldiers and supplies with you. I look forward to seeing how your town develops in the coming weeks!"
I clasped his hand firmly, shaking vigorously.
"You have done me a service like no other, Captain Ruthran. Rest assured, you shall be compensated heavily in the near-future, and you are always welcome to spend your days and nights at my humble estate."
"No need for paybacks, Lord Avon." Ruthran replied humbly. "The compensation is getting my soldiers strong and fit again."
Myself, Dedric, Henrik and Karina left the fortress, along with two-dozen armor-clad soldiers, making our daunting trip back to the hamlet- but in much higher spirits than before.
With this manpower and supplies, I could easily get that abandoned cliff-town functioning once more. It would just take time. And I had plenty to spare.