Roleplay Sent 28/06/2012.
The tepid jungles of the Madinian Rebel State had been a hideous endurance, a land nigh devoid of civilisation until the grace of monarchical rule had but lightly touched upon it. It seemed Allomere was destined to be deployed time and time again in untamed and savage regions beset with rogue flora and an uncultured populace. He was a long way indeed from the Imperial City with all its domestic order and urban refinement, and further still from the tranquil and almost paradisiac coastline of Zerujil. Here instead sprawled a wild and barbarous wood that deep within nestled a downright feral existence. Somewhere amid the chokingly moist and earthy claustrophobia of the canopy lay Rettleville, the capital of Barca. The soldiers of Aurvandil kept their hopeful eyes ahead for all signs of the expectant lumbercamp.
After trekking through the Rettlewood and its host of natural horrors for a day the sounds of a settlement met the Deathstalkers with welcome, though their eyes were fast to dispel the joy. Steeled again to endure rural nightmares the Knight Hausos and his company of child-archers made their way to the gatehouse of the city. The earth embankments and woodworks that formed the defensive curtain to the city seemed to blend with the forest that lay to all sides. Allomere studied the city on the approach, it seemed a tiered affair which raised upon a natural rocky outcrop. Neither the vast, clean and embellished metropolis of the Imperial City of Candiels, cleared with wide-sweeping vistas and promenades, centrepieced and utterly dominated by the Palais Haut-Souverain, nor the Port of Madina with its canals and trade houses and intrusive waterfront was like this. The difference in layout and conception was almost unsettling, nauseating. Through this Allomere pushed on, nonetheless intrigued as he scanned the city with a General’s eye.
…
They advanced up the road toward the Senate House perched atop the rise at the far end of the city, lines of shabbily dressed Barcan commoners massed along the route as they observed and chattered in their forest tongues over the arrival of the Orvandeaux vanguard. If they wore leaves or were simply swathed in mud it would be hard to make distinction. To live in such woodland squalor was the height of depravity. Even the conscripted street children of The Imperial City formerly lived like nobility by comparison. Nonetheless they continued onward, led as they were by the escort of Barcan Sentries, for the guests came under a banner of diplomacy afforded for their passage.
With their arrival suitably announced, and with the assembled dignitaries and officials of BArca making attendance of their approach to the Senate, the Orvandeaux soldiers halted, formed in a column, with the Knight Hausos at their head. One hundred and fifty Sovereign’s Men there to represent the glory of the Commonwealth of Aurvandil. At their head Allomere stepped forward. His task was clear, and his message would be strong. He was to initiate, to take the fore, to lead from the front as all Generals should. It was what he was accustomed to, and most suited for.
Dressed in his battlefield attire, his finery was resplendent of the indulgence and the riches of the Commonwealth. His helm matched that of the Imperial breastplate he wore, of polished silver layered with white enamel and inscribed all over with decoration. Around his neck was fastened a white-gold Fleur Di Lis And Sword, and backed with the black backing of his gathered cloak it shone out distinctly as a mark of his rank. From his left shoulder hung a diamond-shaped epaulette that trailed almost down to his elbow on which the heraldry of the Kingdom and Commonwealth was embroidered. At his side his sword was sheathed, a scabbard of blue-black lacker and silver embellishments. The Knight Hausos was sworn to die in battle as an embodiment of the Chevalier, the Will of the High Sovereign, and the personification of the tenets of the Commonwealth. It would not do to make and inconspicuous showing of himself.
Removing his helmet, he began.
“I am Sir Allomere de' Striguile, Knight Hausos At Arms of Aurvandil, First Among Chevaliers, L'Amiral et le Seigneur de la Mer, Capitaine de l'Epée Du Roi, First Viscount Zerujil.
I cometh herein to this land at the behest of His Imperial August, The High Sovereign Mendicant Anhanger, Benevolent Majesty and Lord Protector of the Commonwealth of Aurvandil, Duke of The Imperial City, Margrave of Candiels, King of Madina, Conquérant des Pirates, Foremost Chevalier and Roi de l’Orvandeaux.
I am charged under the honour to be the bearer, instrument and deliverer of the terms of engagement of our imminent conflict. Time, opportunity and hospitality enough has been afforded to settle the matters pertaining to the lands of Celitberia, Kydonia and Gallaecia, and the Lords and Knights thereof who have sought refuge and allegiance under the banner of Lady Aurvandil, the protection of The High Sovereign, and safeguarding from the Tyrannical corruption of the Barcan dryad State, of which I presently address. Enduring slight and insult from your Ambassador in the Imperial City, and with all other avenues of negotiation, converse and reason thusly expended, it is my duty to initiate the Commonwealth’s response.”
At that, the Knight Hausos took a step to his front and drew forth his sword, the whitened blade sliding cleanly from its scabbard as the polished enamel caught the sun. He proceeded to sharpen the sword upon the Marble steps, marking the stonework with a series of repetitive gashes, an act of brazen and calculated provocation, symbolic of the three strikes of which no man of honour can take without response of the assault against his dignity. To the chevalier’s mind, it was far from merely symbolic but an actual and unequivocal discourtesy, derision and ridicule not against a single knight but against a whole realm and an entire people, an infraction upon the entirety of Barca in every regard. From this point on it was settled, there could be only War.
The Knight Hausos straightened and look to his fore, oblivious to the reaction of the Barcan’s present, solely focussed on enacting what must be done. He spoke up again, louder to overcome the stirrings.
“With slight and offence duly returned, we seek to take redress upon insistence, and I issue as First Among Chevaliers the challenge ; you are obliged to meet us in Arms on the Field of Honour, to do battle for the cause we maintain, and settle the contestant nature of your politics once and for all. I shall see it done that the High Sovereign’s Peace is brought to these lands, for where talk and words have failed, swords and the Esprit du Chevalier shall bring forth resounding resolution.”
“Our Terms of Engagement under the Code d’Chevalier.” The Knight Hausos gestured to an oversized and heavily gilded chest brought forth by a dozen of his men and placed at the foot of the Senate’s steps. As he spoke it was quickly unlocked and ceremoniously opened to display a scrollcase, lain upon a gold tiered lattice of jewel encrusted plates, white enamel and silver backing set against the reddened silk interior. “I will take correspondence as to their discussion, but we shall not suffer a reduction of our standards. You have a day.”
Allomere sheathed his sword as the men retreated back into line, and the whole body of soldiers reformed swiftly.
“May your actions favour your fortunes, and with distinction, dignity and fortitude ; Let The Duel commence.”
The Knight Hausos bowed slightly, raising his arm in salute after he did so, and in one cohesive movement he and The Deathstalkers, with their single duty fulfilled, turned about and made their withdrawal from the Barcan Capital. He would return soon enough, and on that occasion, it would be under a banner of War.
