The Crownlands, 293 AL.

Lysander.

"If you must humiliate another man, crush him utterly. For men take vengeance for small grievances when they cannot for larger ones."EquitesLysander Asimachos.

EquitesLysander Asimachos.

With business and tax farming expanding, especially in the Crownlands, where he and his men had started to become extensively used, invitations to hunts and feast started pouring in from lower nobility. Some wanted to foster their soft or lazy sons for some time with the Captain, 'making proper men of them', which always had him snickering inwards, since he knew what they would most likely think of the Captain if they knew his preferences. Others, the smarter ones, looked for business opportunities. Gold and success always attracted ambition and want like flies to a carcass in the summer sun. Some simply wanted to get to know the man who had came from nowhere and now commanded a small trade and business empire. Yet others looked for positions for second or third sons, cousins, younger brothers, bastards or orphaned wards.

He usually dined, conversed diplomatically, took one or two investments and repaid them generously enough when it was time. Some of the brighter boys made it into his organisation or the Condottieri, but most lordlings failed the rigours of the Captain's training, unable to take the hard regimen and above all orders without question, being used to command servants and smallfolk around. For the hunt, he partook but always let someone else have the honour of slaying the deer or boar. He turned on the charm on the ladies, displaying immaculate manners, knowing that them viewing him favourably would filter towards husbands and brothers, not directly of course, but still. Only a fool ignored the power a charming lady posessed in a society strung up on chivalry.

This feast, however, was a bit different. He had been invited to Greenfield Castle, a bit west of Rosby, by Lord Tomas Greenfield, a man known for being fair, jovial and much in love with his wife - to the extent that he had no less than nine children that had survived into adulthood. He had recently started tax farming at some of the manors and estates belonging to Lord Greenfield, and had of course studied the books briefly as well as gathered as much information as possible before heading for the feast - escorted by four Condottieri and Lieutenant Clegane in their best parade equipment.

Lord Greenfield, a portly and short man in a pointed grey beard, a bald head and intelligent pale blue eyes had greeted him warmly and offered salt and bread - a tradition he found endearing, as it was similar to what woudl be offered in an alliance back hom, even if that tradition was dying out. The Lord may be old and a bit fat, but his hands were still calloused from holding his sword, and it was evident from the stout keep and well-maintained curtain wall as well as the very well-worn exercise field that Lord Greenfield took his and his domain's martial ability very seriously.

"I must compliment you on the view, Lord Greenfield." he said with a smile, sitting not far from the Lord himself on the place of honoured guests, while Lieutenant Clegane stood like a statue a bit further away. The grand southwards slope down into the valley of the Blackwater Rush that had given the castle - and its Lordly House - its name was indeed stunning from the large led-fitted glass windows that lined the hall on its south side. The long slope was dotted with clungs of peach and apple tree orchards, fields in full bloom, green meadows with lazily grazing livestock, herb gardens and hops poles. "It is almost as stunning as your charming wife." he continued with a nod towards the equally portly and short Lady of the House, Merina Greenfield, who actually blushed and giggled. "You are a flatterer,EquitesAsimachos!" she said with a smile that nevertheless spoke clearly that the words had fallen in fertile soil. The smile of the Lord himself was also wide - he probably knew that the rosy cheeks of his wife and her fine mood would let him get lucky later that night.

"It was constructed by my Lord grandfather when he expanded the castle. It would have to be abandoned in case of an enemy scaling the curtain wall, of course. Impossible to defend." the Lord said. A smart, pragmatic man within his field - the brief discussion they had on tax farming before the veal was served had told him the man had little economic skill, but was smart enough to know what worked and what did not - and that his skill better suited for military matters, and to let someone tax farm most of his lands. To know your strengths and weaknesses was the first step towards being smart, was it not?

He was about to inquire further on the reconsctruction of the castle, as it seemed like a good topic to continue, but someone else spoke first.

"Views, windows and sycophantry are all good, I suppose." the man that had spoked was a strongly built knight with a short, cropped sand-coloured beard and the same pale eyes as the Lord himself. Ser Halder Greenfield, third son of the Lord andlike his brothers an accomplished knight that had come far in several of the King's many tournaments, melees and other martial contests.

"You dress in fine silks and elaborate clothes, Asimachos." the man said. Ah, here was the reason for the odd mood during the feast. Ser Halder and his supporters and friends, who seemed to all watch him, while the Lord himself seemed to lose his good mood.

"Halder..." he started, but was interrupted by his son, who had rosy cheeks from his liberal consumption of wine. "Lots of words, flattering, being a sycophant. You are not a man." he spat. "You carry that pathetic thin sword around with you, but I am sure you can't even hold it in your weak little hands!"

Ah. So it was Ser Halder he had replaced in taking care of the Lord's estates. And he did not appreciate it. No inheritance, no war in sight, not good enough to actually go beyond the top third at the tournaments. The knight was destined to become a hedge knight and would perhaps never fight a single battle despite training for it his whole life. And now he had lost the one purpose he actually had, and was takin git out on the one who had taken it from him.

"Halder!" the Lord roared as he rose, but his son just extended his hands in a 'what?' gesture, as if he could not understand what he had done wrong. Everything he had just said was true, was it not?

"My apologies for my son, Equites Asimachos..." the Lord started, and suddently Clegane was behind them.

"Do you want him dead?" the large, scarred man said, and for a second it looked like Ser Halder regretted his words.

"Please, my Lord. It seems like Ser Halder thinks I cannot use my sword. I fear I must set things right. I will handle this, Lieutenant Clegane." this was a martial society, and much of it would never respect you if you backed down from a confrontation like this. He turned to the knight who had like his father, risen from his position.

"I am sure there's some misunderstanding." he said with a condescending tone. "Perhaps you'd like to apologise for not understanding the subject of the conversation, Ser Halder?" he said with a predatroy smile, which infuriated the knight, as planned, of course.

"The only thing I will do is chop you to pieces! Or would, if you were not too much of a coward to actually face me!" the knight said, to the laughter of some of his friend and snicker from some others.

"My Lord." he said and turned to Lord Greenfield. "I am afraid my honour has been challenged. With your permission, I'd like to answer the challenge. This is your house after all." he said, purposfully ignoring the fuming knight.

"Very well." the Lord growled, glaring at his son and giving his distraught wife a reassuring arm over her shoulder. "Halder! Don't you dare kill him!" he said.

"No promises!" it came from the knight, who with a satisfied smile took a sword and drew it from its scabbard. A well-maintained castle-fordged steel longsword - sharp and of excellent quality. He held it like he had held it for hundreds of hours as they whole feast filed out to the exercise field outside the feasting hall.

Note: Images by my good friendJohn.