The Last War

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

The King of Essenia was newly christened, more emperor than King. He had unified the squabbling regions of the Eastern continent through diplomacy and through bloodshed, leading a campaign that had made history. He had taken what had once been the divided, poverty ridden dominions of lesser men and united them all beneath his banner, bringing with him infrastructure and trusted men trained in statecraft.

Perhaps he would have been contented enough to stop there. Few could say-so very little was known about him beyond his borders, least of all by the free peoples of the Western countries. They were embroiled in their own mutual standoffs with one another. Through the centuries alliances were carefully crafted and often broken, ending finally in an uneasy, tense peace for the last fifty years. No two dared team up against the third for fear of treachery and an alliance in turn-mistrust was high between these rules-but the people suffered not. Each country was prosperous in their own way, however uncertain the future.

The warlike nation of Caaria was the most populated of the three and shared a border with the Essenian's, the only access point to the Eastern half of their shared continent. The power hungry and magic infused lands of Taren were the largest, and also shared a border with Essenia's new empire-but this shared border was mostly tumultuous mountain ranges. The prosperous, fertile lands of Avarone were separated entirely from Essenia save by sea-their merchants had far to go, but trade was good, if sparing between nations of the same continent. They preferred their trade partners across the Eastern sea.

Avarone was the smallest of the three countries, both in size and population. It had survived the mechaniations of its enemies through clever politics rather than war-though there had been armed conflicts in its history. In addition to clever leaders, Avarone benefited from it's natural insulation from the outside world-it's borders were lined with a thick, lush wood few outsiders had crossed, talented archers and soldiers posted at throughout.

The leaders were as vastly different as their lands-there was the Vizier Valesian, a rumored sorcerer of great power, the latest in a long string of political upheavals and betrayals that so filled Taren's history books.

There was the Horse Chief of Caaria, a man elected to lead in a grand convening of Caaria's ruling tribes. Roderick was the first of his tribe to so lead, having earned the right through conquest, bribery, and murder. The people had embraced their bloodlust in electing him, rather than their heritage. He called himself King Roderick the First.

And then there was the young Queen Sophia, house of Lyons. She was the third of her house to rule, the only child born to the rightful king who in turn was the only surviving child of his own father. Shrewd and fiscally responsible, the Lyons were clever rulers who had fought for and maintained Avarone's continued independence, had brought an age of prosperity after a slow period of stagnation. It has been eight years since her coronation, and she had proven to be worthy of her crown.

It was rumored she was very beautiful, and also that she was very, very clever. One had to be to maintain what Avarone possessed that its enemies so lusted for.

But the careful balance between the three nations and their rulers was finally offset when the Caarian army made an ill advised foray into the newly unified Essenia. Their initial success and rampant pillaging was met with harsh retribution, culminating with a full on war between the two.

A war with a decidedly clear victor in the Essenian King. The remains of Roderick's powerbase had fled into the mountains of Taren while several tribes of previously oppressed people's swore fealty to a new leader, pockets of resistance in further reaches of the nation.

Change had finally come to the Eastern countries...what would it mean for their futures?

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

The Envoy

Visitors had come to the Essenian war camp-an envoy by the look of things. They were but a light traveling trio of knights that the look outs had warned of early morning, but scouts had inexplicably failed to catch wind of.

It made it all the more likely they were from the wooded border of Avarone, a mere week's ride for a group so small.

All three rode with bows on their backs, the preferred weapon of many a Avaronian soldier. Their cloaks too were obvious indicators of their origin-a dark, blending green to camouflage them within the forest borders.

There was a grizzled older man, a clear veteran with an air of finesse and power to him. His armor was a blackened color with many a scuff and scar, a heavy broadsword sheathed in his saddle. He wore an open faced helmet that left little doubt to his advanced age-though he still seemed a man with strength and skill.

There was a lady knight in traditional armor, riding straight backed and carrying a standard with a white flag of peace flying in the wind. Her breastplate bore intricate filigree along the collar and sides that shone brightly against the duller metal behind it, an allusion to her perhaps high born status. Her right pauldron was imprinted with a roaring lion reared up on its hindlegs, a rose clasped in each of it's paws against a sun motif, a bow at its feet. Queen Sophia's emblem, the emblem all of her soldiers bore on their shields and carried standards. Avarone's symbol.

The helmet she wore obscured much of her face, leaving just the bridge of her nose and two warm, sparkling eyes the color of the forest-dark green with bits of brown interspersed throughout the irises-exposed, more of that brightly shining silver filigree down the face of it.

The remaining knight was also a woman, smaller than the first and bearing an interesting dark shade of green armor, no less heavy than her comrades. Her helmet had a t shaped opening-revealing dark, watchful, suspicious eyes and a pert nose, full lips pressed in a line. She was young, somewhat small in general, and possessed many a weapon in her saddle, along with an intricately designed hand axe in its sling.

They approached slowly, waiting for an indication of safety before entering range-and let it be politely known they wished to speak with someone 'of importance'.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

The Corination

War had come to Essenia like a dagger in the dark. Just as he had come to power the knife had plunged into the small of his back to test his reflexes and his resolve. How would the new king handle these new challenge days after the grueling rites he had undertaken to ascend the throne? While not many knew what was involved in the ascension rites of the Essenian royalty the Horse Chief Rodderick was extremely familiar with the practice because he was informed when the rites were taking place that it was the perfect opportunity to strike at the newly minted king.

The trials were extremely taxing for anyone and not all would be Royals survived the process. Many Princes and Princesses died in their attempt to climb to the throne. It was not as if the process was designed to be lethal, it was simply designed to remove weakness. Like the forging of a sword the climb to the throne was like the tempering fire of the forge, each trial was a hammer strike pounding out slag and impurity until all that was left was a strong core to build upon, the character of the ruler allowed for the flexibility to make sure that sword did not break.

Within a day the first raids had taken place and Drenton’s sword wounds had not yet finished setting from the stitches he had received from his battle with the nations head warrior before he was donning a set of freshly forged armor and marching off to war as King Swifthammer of Essenia.

The first battle had gone the Horse Chief’s way because he had numbers and surprise on his hands. Every battle thereafter was a complete and utter defeat. One thing that the Caarian King’s advisors forgot to inform him about was that unlike the rest of the nations Essenia maintained a standing army of professional soldiers that did nothing but maintain a state of battle readiness. Even when the country was not at war they worked for other countries as mercenaries under legal contract. This was a large source of income for the Essenian country. Even their archers were second only to Avarone’s legendary skill and they fell short perhaps only in a woodland environment and because Avarone had better wood for making bows. Give an Essenian an Avaronian bow and he could take out a raven’s eye mid-flight at a hundred and fifty yards, maybe more.

They also had a rather large shipping business as they were largely flanked by the ocean, the entire back half of their nation was open salt water. That was what led them to maintain such a dangerous army in the first place. A nation with nowhere to run had to maintain a sharp spear.

When the Caarian armies broke and ran Drenton could have let them run but he knew that would have been a fatal mistake, even his advisors agreed to let them regroup inside another nations’ borders was suicidal, even if crossing the borders of another nation to pursue them was as good as declaring war on a second nation. Essentia did not blink at the decision, with Caaria’s forces nearly depleted as his numbers still near full strength the king pushed forward into enemy territory and invaded Taren. That was a week ago now. The dust had just settled from their last skirmish which had cost a lot of Taren lives. As the trio approached the camp she was blocked on the outskirts of a picket line by a few heavily armored sentries. Not a single man looked as if they were the slightest bit fatigued or doing anything but paying complete attention to their duty. However, both men’s gear showed the wear and tear of many long battles. Their swords were in good repair but their armor had bangs and dents that were in need of repair, shirts were in tatters or stained with blood. Still, they looked moderately fed for now. How long would that last though?

Just inside the ring of sharpened stakes the king was gathered around a raging pyre in the middle of the raging heat of the day with his helm removed, intoning a prayer for the dead as they loaded a few linen wrapped bodies onto the pyres. “May you all find peace in the arms of the maker. Until we meet again.”

”Until we meet again.” All those gathered around spoke somberly. After the prayer was completed someone spoke to the King and he nodded his head and turned toward the trio at the front of the camp and waved his hand. The pickets were pulled apart, he raised his voice.

“Let us not be rude to Queen Sophia’s envoys. Bring them in and take them to my tent. Offer them refreshment.” The three were led to a modest tent that looked capable of hosting several dozen men and furniture. Inside was a table laden with maps.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

The Reception

He entered a moment later, bowing slightly as he entered to avoid hitting his head. Seeing him now it was easy to see how one could draw the conclusion that he was a warmonger by his actions and his appearance. He was a towering man and he was very well built. Standing at six feet three and weighing perhaps over two hundred pounds before the armor he was an imposing sight. Yet his eyes betrayed him, they were extremely expressive. His somber gaze swept up the three and he spoke quietly. “Forgive me for the delay I did not mean to delay such important guests, but I believe when a man or a woman gives the ultimate sacrifice for you it is incumbent upon you to repay that sacrifice with the utmost respect.”

His short brown hair was cut tight to his skull, green eyes glittered freely as they caught the light. His facial features were not blocked by a helm, the helm was tucked beneath his left arm. A moment later he set that aside in a chair and then nodded briefly as a knight entered the room. He took the King’s claymore from him and the long-bladed knife in his belt. “I ask that you please surrender your weapons for the duration of this meeting. None of my men other than servants will enter this room and your safety will be assured on my honor. Now, what is it I may do for Queen of Avarone?”

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

They dismounted only at the mouth of the tent they had been so warmly invited into-a fluidity and ease to their movements that spoke of practice and training in their armor and equipment.

They politely declined food and drink to a man-though the silver knight was very gracious in doing so. It seemed she was the leader of this little convoy, though there was some conferring between the man and she.

"We're sitting ducks, things go South." He intoned in a murmur, hardly loud enough for his companions to hear, let alone anyone further away. This was nothing the knight did not know-and a risk she was willing to take. They waited in silence.

They didn't have to wait overly long.

As he entered the knights bowed their heads, their right hands curling into fists that they thumped softly against their chests, leaving them pressed over their hearts in Avarone's salute. "A warrior's death deserves a warrior's respite, King Swifthammer." The silver knight spoke, her head still bowed and her voice like warmed velvet, a confident, feminine air of power to it. A diplomat's tone.

"Avarone and its queen issue apology for our lack of favors. It pains Queen Sophia to send so humble an envoy, but we know better, more important things currently hold your attention, and she thought it prudent to send fast messengers." The silver knight straightened, seeming to take further measure of the man before her as he removed his weapons and asked that they do the same.

The smaller, green clad woman shifted slightly, a glance to the grizzled man beside her- but no protest was made as the silver knight calmly slipped the bow from her back and the short sword from her hip, offering both to her fellows with an incline of her head. They followed swiftly behind the exiting knight with the King's weapons, taking post outside the tent should the worst occur.

The silver knight seemed to take him at his word, however. Her eyes were warm and sharing, a smile he could only sense rather than see on her lips, given she had not removed her helmet. "Congratulations are in order, your greatness. It seems the Caarians misjudged your strength, much to their detriment..."

Where he was large and of some strength, this knight remained feminine and carried herself with an inherent grace. She was tall for a woman of these times-perhaps five six, maybe even five eight. Their distance was such she could see him without bending her back or craning her neck. "And now you have pressed into Taren." A statement without judgement or opinion, carefully neutral, diplomatic in tone.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

He was a young king, yet he was no fool. He chose not to receive the royal retinue with any advisors which many would consider a bold and brash move. However, he had already committed an act of bravado when he had so wantonly walked his armies up to the borders of their homeland and camped so close to their borders. While he would not apologize for this act this was partially an act of contrition and respect, intentionally placing himself at a disadvantage in these talks as he engaged the three. He was somewhat surprised to see the woman remain here by herself and while all signs indicated she was comfortable in his presence she had every right to feel anything but comfortable.

Instead of questioning her intentions he absorbed all of her words with quiet calm and an intent smile on his firm jaw. His features were not mocking her, nor was there anything lewd about the way he looked at her despite the fact that her armor did hint vaguely at some prize beneath. Instead his gaze spoke only of an ever-growing measure of respect, someone whom he had taken the measure of in a few heartbeats and found to be more than worth standing across the table from. He pressed his fist over his heart in a crisp salute and bent at the waist in one smooth motion.

His salute was just as deep as the one she offered, no lower, no higher. He mimicked her gesture in almost perfect unison in an offer of mutual respect and spoke in that remarkable rich voice of his that in this small confine seemed to vibrate from some plucked stringed instrument hidden beneath the armor. “Forgive me but I feel the need to correct you on one fact. Your liege Lady has chosen her envoy’s quite well and while you may have arrived with little favor little about your group could be described as humble. I’ve stood across from each of you for less than a minute each and I can tell that much. Perhaps you most of all stand out among your comrades. Your words are kind, sincere, and deliberate but without pretense. You wield diplomacy with the skill of a Kensai. I imagine all of you are simply fantastic in one area or another.”

He had mentioned a Kensai. If she had been paying attention to him and his sword as he had surrendered it she would have seen the mark of a Kensai on his sword. The word's origin was lost to time but the meaning roughly translated to sword saint. It was a rarely attained level of skill one achieved by beating a weapon master in single combat with your own weapon. To have done so at his young age was a remarkable feat.

He nodded his head thoughtfully. “Yes, they underestimated my strength and my determination to follow them wherever they decided to flee. They thought running into another country would shelter them. Obviously, that was not the case. That is the only reason I set foot in Taren. I have no immediate quarrel with the Taren people, other than they give comfort to my enemies. This I cannot abide. Please let the Queen know that as long as she shelters no Caarian soldiers I have no intention of posing any danger to her homeland. I have no desire to escalate this conflict further. I had no desire for this conflict at all. I simply wish to end it decisively so that I may see to the affairs I left behind. I have heard the rumors spreading ahead of the army. That we level every town we come across, claim all the women steal from the villages and then salt the earth. You rode through my camp on the way here. Fact and fiction can get lost when men fear for their lives and those of their families.”

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"You understand our concerns with your armies on our borders, King Swifthammer. I am pleased to learn Avarone is not in your ambitions, for the moment."

The moment.

"But if the Taren Vizier does not surrender the Caarian nobles...what then? Do you mean to conquer their lands also, bring them to heel?" These were largely rhetorical questions.

"For you see...that would leave our two countries as the sole powers on this continent." She is watching him much more carefully as she says this, letting the statement rest a moment between them, a hand raised to indicate more was coming.

She was correct, and the implied concern was obvious; should he win Taren through conquest, add the mountainous, desert land to his empire, the fertile, woodland protected lands of Avarone would be the last and only obstacle to his complete control over the continent. Essenia certainly had the means to burn the forests and march on them-just as Caaria had had, should they have turned the full force of their armies upon it instead of Essenia. Only careful political maneuverings by Queen Sophia had prevented Avarone's ruination so far...and those of her father before her.

And now she had sent her envoy to King Swifthammer, the newest of lieges in these wars. He spoke of his people's reputation with an air of deniability. Perhaps he was honest. He did not seem to be a bloodthirsty warlord.

But a King's will was not always the will of his people, his generals, his advisors...his successors.

"But perhaps the Vizier will be sensible." The woman concedes with a slight incline of her head, It would certainly be wise for him to do so. "He turns over the last of the Caarian houses...and is then free to focus on the last of Taren's ancient foes."

With Caaria gone, there was nothing but Avarone to focus his ambitions on. Perhaps he would even make an alliance with Essenia-and their combined might would be brought down on her homeland, burning their forests and taking what would not be given to them freely. Avarone could not fight a war on two fronts. They could scarcely fight a war at all. It was all the country could do to repel invaders using the heavy woodlands that bordered their lands to ambush and waylay enemy soldiers. Should Taren and Essenia clash there or come for them in earnest, surely Avarone would lay razed and ruined.

Avarone was in a dangerous position. The stresses of its Queen were not to be envied.

"I have been sent with a proposal of alliance for your consideration, King Swifthammer." The knight finally reveals, spreading her hands with another incline of her head, that warm, sharing smile in her eyes again.

"Allow us to align ourselves with you should it come to war with Taren. What military support we can spare, we shall. What supplies you require, we can provide. You have soldiers, and we have the infrastructure to feed them.

"She asks that you carefully consider this alliance, that Avarone is neither crushed beneath your heel nor left to the mercies of her enemies. A vassal, rather than a part of your ever expanding empire."

It was a shocking revelation. Queen Sophia was offering much for assurances that they would not be next. Sweetening the pot to prevent ruination at either his or Taren's hands. After all...should she have an alliance of arms with Essenia, Taren could hardly invade her forests or continue to demand her hand.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

Once more the warrior king listened to her words in composed silence. When she asked her question he made no rush to assure her of his intentions. He let her speak to see if that was all she had to say. It was a common tactic to let a person speak to reveal their inner thoughts yet that was not quite his objective here. He was not just letting her speak so she would stumble into a web of deceit, he was letting her speak because he knew there was more to her story and he did not plan to raise any sort of comment or objection until she had said all that she needed to say.

He digested all that she had to say and he was quiet for a long time. He turned his back to her as he paced to the back of the tent thoughtfully and when he finally broke his silence his words were far away and somber. She almost had to strain to hear him. Such a powerful man with so young a reign, he carried a heavy burden already. “It is the burden of all rulers to do what is best for their people. The best way for me to promise the safety and security of your nation is for your people to become my people. Obviously, we know that this will not happen, nor do I expect and such contrition to come or would I ask it of your Queen. Such a demand would be demeaning and would seem like I am trying to intimidate or disrespect her. Nothing could be further from the truth. So far she is the only one who has treated me with any measure of respect and seen the situation with any foresight. I admire her wisdom. I am simply trying to say that no treaty is without risk and no ally is above reproach. Still, neither nation has anything to lose in this arrangement and everything to gain. This is a good basis for a long-standing and powerful friendship. From all angles, it is a good match and even without meeting her in person I feel confident in saying yes to this.”

He finally turned around again and he was smiling, albeit with a touch of weariness. “Besides I would like to have someone who is not trying to murder my countrymen. Before long this entire part of the world will be at war with us if I am not careful. Not even our forces can sustain that.” He met her eyes on the other side of the helm for a moment then nodded, extending his hand to her. “We can discuss the finer points in detail as needed but you have yourself an ally, for now and as long as my kingdom stands. No contracts shall be approved against Avarone forces, when this conflict is done if your queen wishes she may even request to have Essenian soldiers stationed in Avarone without paying the Mercenary expenses that non-war time normally incurs when soldiers are on loan to another country. All details I can include in a formal treaty and sign to send off with you, or we can negotiate if there are specific terms you feel that you need enforced. I’m not sure if you have been sent with any instructions other than to try and maintain a non-aggression pact if possible. Either way I would like to harden the border between Avarone and Taren if you feel comfortable making that decision. I do not want to see the Tarens invade your home in response to this meeting.”

He looked at the map showing the border between the two countries and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Once we have secured a route for a larger force to travel by any caravans or soldiers traveling this direction should have no issues making the trip. The terrain is hard to pass in most areas unless you come at it just right. That is why we picked this location. It acts as a natural bottle neck in the valley and keeps a path of retreat open but makes it nearly impossible for us to be flanked. The enemy would have to travel for nearly a week out of their way to get behind us. Before they made that journey we would know about it. So if we secure all of this valley that you traveled along, the way all the way back to Avarone should stay clear of Taren soldiers and keep our supply line stable and clear of assault. Wha-“

He stopped and shook his head. “Forgive me. It has been a whirlwind few days that I must have forgotten all manners. I have not even asked your name. My parents would be appalled!”

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

“A formal treaty of nonaggression and a declaration of friendship would serve both our peoples well, King Swifthammer.” The knight answered as she removed her glove to shake his hand. Hers was delicately boned with long, graceful fingers. A simple ring shone on one of her fingers-it was shiny silver band with a glinting, dark green stone set in the same delicate, spiraling filigree that decorated her armor. She was someone of importance, and yet she was sent out into war torn lands to meet with him.

It was something of a puzzle.

“I doubt there’d be a need for it. If the Vizier does not turn over the Caarian nobles, you intend to press further into his lands, yes? He won’t be able to reach us but by sea, cut off by our respective armies and the mountains. In the meantime, our archers will focus on our Northern wood, rather than the East-since our new friends are all that settle there.”

She listened to his strategy, weighing the man in front of her as he spoke-only for her eyes to sweep up to his face as he remembered himself, asked for her name. Those green and brown flecked eyes again smiled at him warmly.

“What need for names have messengers, mi’lord? I speak for the Queen, and I am your ally. When Taren forces your hand-and they will force your hand-you may look for me then, riding into battle alongside your stalwart men.”

She saluted him again with her fist over her heart, the slight bow. Despite the evasive response, she carried a trustworthy, honorable air about her. Sincerity.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

Once more he drank in her words and nodded his head. Terms of friendship and non-aggression it would be. She turned down the offer to supply troops to the border, though he could not say that it surprised him all that much. Who knew how much authority she had to make such choices, on top of that letting his men set up any sort of fortification on their border was certainly quite a risk despite any treaty they signed. The smartest plan was really for all purposes to allow him to draw most of the attention where he was and weaken any large forces that attempted to make their way past him toward Avarone. He would act as both a deterrent and an early warning of any impending attacks even if he proved a duplicitous ally. It was the smart plan. Even if that was not her intention, it was the smart approach to a newly minted alliance.

He shook her hand firmly as he took note of the signet ring and then looked back over the fine filigree inlay of her armor. She was no minor knight, she was at least a noble of some renown. He placed his hand to his heart and bowed his head slightly toward her with a smile. “Very well, it will be as you say. We will hold their attention here and hopefully keep anyone from making their way past us. If any large force seems to be amassing for an assault I will send riders to the border to let your people know the situation as it changes.”

He straightened and smiled as he noticed the cool way she brushed off his attempt to discern her identity. He decided not to push it. Though his expression gave her the full story that he realized now that it was only respect that kept him from pushing the point any farther. If she wished to keep her identity a secret then he would allow it, but this only confirmed to him that she was more important to her people than first glance would indicate.

“I have a request to make of you actually. My men have been able to endure much of the hardships of this campaign without complaint. However, we refuse to raise and raid from the local populace. We only purchase our supplies legitimately. While we left with a large supply of material and coin when this first began the Taren nobility have made it illegal to sell goods to us and also taken most of the material without paying for it from their own population. As a result most of the people are starving and have no food or other goods to spare. Instead of being able to purchase these things in some instances we have actually had to give our own supply to save lives.”

He met her eyes for a moment and for the first time his gaze was dark with true anger, mixed with sadness. “I’ve half a mind to overthrow these men for this crime alone. Such cruelty their people have endured and they live insulated inside their keeps, untouched by the famine and death they create!”

He drew a deep breath and pushed the air from his lungs, letting the anger flow outward again. Once he was in control he spoke again. “I’m afraid I do not have the raw coin to cover the expense of what I want to ask you, but I have something that should do just as well. It is back here.” He motioned for the female knight to follow him toward the back of the tent where an area was curtained off.

He pulled the curtain to the side and an armor stand stood bearing a breastplate much more decorated like hers inlaid with silver and gold. A fine crimson silk cape flowed down the back clasped around the neck of the stand with a ruby broach with a ruby half the size of a man’s fist. A thin skirt of chain mail made of a mixture of platinum and silver links woven together covered to about mid-thigh. Heavy plate boots and greaves were linked together and shone brightly in the torchlight. At the side stood a thin long sword made of silver and when he pulled it out the blade had no edge, but it shone like a mirror in the light. The pieces were absolutely breathtaking, and he smiled at her faintly as he shrugged.

“I thought I could make this a exchange this for whatever your Queen deems an appropriate amount of food, steel, and first aid supplies. That way we can keep the men in fighting shape and help any refugees we come across. It was only worn once, on my Coronation day. Since then I have just carried it around. I would have already melted it down but the metal is too soft to use for repairs. I love my people and to part with something they made with so much love breaks my heart but I have no need for such things. I am not a man of extravagance. I would rather my people be safe and fed than to have something like this.”