Rooftop Sunset

Hikaru sat on the roof of the inn staring out at the setting sun and absently fixed the fletching of one of his arrows. Though his body was recovered and present in the here and now his mind had wandered far afield. He thought of how he had ended up in Amberdale and how he was fighting for a people not his own to free them from a cruel man. Yet his own nation suffered from many of the same and he could do nothing to help them. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could help these people. Sure he’d killed the mercenaries and soldiers set to keep the townsfolk cowed while the lord was away. But where was the victory? Sure they’d won the day and given the people a chance to flee, but to where would they go? Hikaru didn’t have the answer only a question; could he walk away from them and save himself?

He knew the answer as well as he knew his name. No, he would not back down from those who would stand on the backs of others for their own gains. It may not have been his fight to begin with but in asking Addie had made it his. He would do everything he could to see as many people safe as he could. They needed time or they needed to find a way to make it not worthwhile for this upstart lord to be here anymore. A straight up fight was not going to work and this day had shown that quite handily. Twenty plus mercs and soldiers down but too many more to face in a fair fight. So what could they do?

A thought about the gold mine surfaced and Hikaru wondered if it was even possible. The man wanted the riches this land had to offer, but if the riches were gone then he would have no reason to stay, would he? Could they even destroy the gold mine to the point where it was not worth trying to dig it out? He’d have to ask in the morning.

Setting aside the quiver and his remaining arrows Hikaru turned instead to a fresh piece of parchment from his journal. Uncapping the ink and pulling a fresh quill from his small supply he dipped and began to write a small letter to his mother:

Sora kono yoru wa, chiheisen-jō ni moeru yōna orenji-irodesu. Watashi wa anata ga shisa shita yō ni itte iruto watashi ga aru koto ga yosō sa reru basho kara tōkuhanarete sōkō suru koto ni yotte, yoriyoi jibun o kakushite imasu. Watashi wa korera no kotoba wa anata ga kanojo no idai-sa ni keiiwoharau tame ni mayonaka ni settei rōsoku no tenmetsu hikari de anata o hōmon suru kanōsei ga aru koto Ymeri ni shinrai shite imasu. Watashi wa watashi no tabi wa nagai mono to nari, watashi wa kore ijō kiken’na watashi ga ie ni taizai shitai baai yori mo naru yō ni idō shite inai dōro o mitsukeru osorete imasu. Sate watashi wa, ikutsu ka no yūkan’na hitobito ga issho ni ryokō suru koto ga wakatte kita hobo sonomama. Wareware wa, shin no dōmeikuni ni naru nodeareba sore wa mada wakarimasen. Watashi wa watashi yori moyori ni naru tame ni kenmei ni hataraku hitsuyō ga aru koto ga wakarimasu. Ymeri no shukufuku ni yori anzendesu.

(The sky this evening is a fiery orange on the horizon. I have done as you suggested and have hidden myself better by travelling far from where I should be expected to be. I trust in Ymeri that these words might visit you in the flickering light of the candle you set at midnight to pay homage to her greatness. I fear my journey will be a long one and I find the roads I travel to be no more perilous than if I’d stayed home. Well almost as I have found a few stouthearted people to travel with. It remains to be seen if we are to become true allies. I find that I need to work harder to become more than I am. By Ymeri’s blessing be safe.)

Folding up the small letter, Hikaru gathers the rest of his things. When midnight arrives he will burn the letter in the hearth downstairs before retiring to his bed…

Rescue by Numbers pt 3

It had been a long afternoon. With Randel guiding the wheel and Leslie pulling the cart the two had managed to move most the oil down towards the docks. Redistribute the food hoarded in the larder to the various families in Harbinger and put aside all the longer lasting foods to be processed should they decide on a voyage or not. Leslie had not spoken much throughout the afternoon, though is cursing had decreased substantially since Randel had offered aid. The solider felt he may have earned enough trust to ask, now that the core work was done for the day.

“Uh… Leslie?” he started, getting the large sailors attention. “I was wondering if… now that the work is done…”

“Don’t be so skiddish… we ain’t as heartless as your Count, we’ll feed ya” the Sailor had said. Using a rag to clean off his hands and taking a long pull of water from his wineskin

“Well… thank you… but no, it wasn’t that… I had a request if at all possible” Randel saw the sailors face turning towards a frown but pushed forward anyway “I’d like your permission to go and… well… I would like to… I want to bury my friends” he spat it out at last. The brows furrowed on the sailor

“Your friends… you mean those fellows you shot at us when we rolled into town? The ones who helped Count Assanal take over in the first place… those Drokking Peckers?”

“Yes, well… sort of… they didn’t know why you were coming, and many of them were good men, just doing their jobs… they were my friends, some of them just collecting money to support families… I would do it myself… I can’t really get into that much trouble with a shovel can I? and I’d do it on my own time, it wouldn’t take away from any of the work that you would need me to do…. please” Randel gave him his best innocent look, until he started speaking he hadn’t realized how much he cared

“All right, you want to play in the dirt… fine,” he reached into the cart and tossed Randel an old shovel. “I see you anywhere but with those bodies or in the graveyard and I will kill ya, we clear?”

“We’re clear sir… thank you” Randel said. Leslie just snorted with derision

“Sun’s setting, get to it Digger”

Rescue by Numbers Pt 2

Randel Trebond looked down at his cuffs, he sat in the shade in front of a wooden thatched building on the main street of Harbinger. He watched as the burly crew member of the elven ship loaded the ragged old cart with another barrel. He had been at it for a few hours. It seemed that they were short on man power, so the fellow… what was his name…. Leslie! Leslie would walk him down the street and tell him to sit in front of a building, then the bloke would slowly load up on the oil and materials needed, make Randel stand and walk ahead of him while he pulled the cart to the next stop. Randel watched as the shirtless crewmen heaved with exertion after hoisting the last barrel onto the cart. The last day and a half had caused Randel to think a lot about his situation. He had been hired on as a mercenary to help a minor lord with security. It hadn’t seemed so bad, the pay was reasonable and the work load had been pretty light, patrol the streets, make sure there were no terrorist actions, and report to his sergeant if he heard anything suspicious in the pub. He kept a quarter of his earning for himself and the rest he sent back to Truegar for his mother, sister and her kids. It wasn’t until after he’d been captured, after he’d been forced to sit in on the town hall that be began to hear the atrocities he’d been a part of. Count Aderal killed the Yoeman, Count Aderal had had a farm salted, Count Aderal had taken the innkeepers wife and beaten her to death,Count Aderal had killed the old town guards. And in many cases not only the Count but men he had worked with, men he worked beside had carried out these orders. He had always thought Harbinger an unfriendly town, the people had never friendlied up to him when he was in the inn and off duty, but if they were living in fear, being treated like this… how had he never seen it before? He shook his head in disgust with himself, he truly deserved whatever fate these people set upon him.


“BY ANAMACHRAS FROZEN GASH ARE YOU KIDDING ME!” Leslie cursed stomping around. The wheel had popped off the cart causing it to tip and spill most of its contents. “BY YOLO’S SALTY BALLS ON THE MOLTEN ANVIL OF DUMANTHION I SWEAR TO ALL THAT’S HOLY IF ONE MORE DROKK OF NERRID GOES WRONG I WILL MURDER EVERY KELEZANDRI PEDDLING TWERP NUGGET IN THIS BLASTED STEAMED ANUS OF A TOWN….DROOOOOKKKKKKKKKK!” Randel watched somewhat impressed… he supposed a sailors reputation for language was indeed well founded. He swallowed the lump in his throat and steeled his resolve before calling out to the angry sailor

“Release me… please” Randel hadn’t expected his voice to croak but nodded to accent his point. The sailor rounded on him

“What? Are you mad?” the sailor cracked his knuckles and approached, Randel hurried to explain

“look, you’re never going to get that wheel on by yourself… and there is nowhere for me to run, and nothing I can do to stop any of this… what I did was wrong… let me help… please” Leslie looked at Randel for a long moment weighing the odds

“If you try anything I will tear you an new asshole” he said patting the sword at his belt

“That’s fair… I guess” Randel agreed.

Rescue By Numbers Pt 1

18th of Patchwall, 381 ONT, Harbinger, Kenzrenad, 4:19pm

Thitmed ran his fingers through his oily hair as he flipped through Zephyrs predictions. Even if he gave Zephyr all the labour he needed and conscripted half the town to helping, there was no way to build enough boats or ships to move the people of Harbinger, let alone the added citizens of Amberdale off the island. He had tried the math, it would take the better part of a day to get to a landable shore on the mainland where they could drop people of in the wilderness, assuming he was willing to leave the Omar Cargo here while he did it. It would then take three days to row back up to Harbinger, he could do it in five trips if he was being dangerous with the number of people he was bringing onboard, but that still wasn’t enough time. He turned the pages over. In theory Zephyr could build two large rafts that could fit most the people on board, no possessions just people. But the sailor in Thitmed bristled at this. The Champions Boot could pull them, but the currents off Harbinger were dangerous for a sea worthy vessel, open rafts, and two of them, he doubted they wouldn’t lose at least one raft in the process, and more likely could get the Champions Boot beached on a shallow or sunk… What had happened to the Legendary Clyde was not lost on him. He sighed in frustration and looked up and Belinda, she was sitting across from him trying to tally the minimum amount of supplies the people would need for a journey depending on where he decided to take them, he had yet to factor in feeding anyone. He tossed down the papers and growled

“It can’t be done, I’m gonna have to talk with the Captain again about it” she looked at him trying to break his declaration with a gaze, but had no luck

“We can’t just leave these people here, they will die without us” She said

“YA THINK I DON’T KNOW THAT?” he yelled standing, his frustrations had boiled over “YA THINK I WANT TO SEE THESE PEOPLE DIE? I DON’T, BUT WE ARE A CARGO SHIP, NOT A MILITARY! I DON’T HAVE THE SPACE, OR THE MANPOWER, OR THE SKILLS, AND I TOLD YA ALL THIS BEFORE WE EVEN LANDED! IT’S SAD, I WISH WE COULD HELP THEM, BUT OUR CHOICES ARE THIS, SAVE OURSELVES, SAVE OURSELVES AND FEW OR DIE WITH THEM… THAT’S IT! I DIDN’T MAKE THIS UP, THAT’S HOW IT IS! YOU AND I OWE IT TO OUR PEOPLE NOT TO GET THEM KILLED!” he breathed heavy for a few moments a sudden exhaustion of the last few days settling into him, he slumped back into his chair his head in his hands as he spoke softly now “we can’t save everyone, and it’s time to start talking about who we can save as opposed to seeing everyone die”. Belinda got up and walked around the table, her soft hands rubbing the tight muscles in the first mates shoulders and neck

“I know your trying Thitmed… not matter what happens, I know you are doing you very best… you’re a good man” her words were soft and soothing “it’s not fair of us to ask you to figure out this mess… let’s start talking realistically, maybe we can take some of the non-combatants and help the others hide or start a pilgrimage south?” he turned and looked at her and nodded solemnly

“Aye… let’s get to work on that” he said grabbing a new sheet of parchment and pulling the page that listed the names occupations and ages of the townsfolk.

Adventures in Orc babysitting

I stared down at the large stupid half Orc. It had taken three of us to haul him off the roof of the bank and into a second floor room at the lonely blossom. Lucky for us there were a number of recently vacated rooms available. I had assisted Aurellia in bandaging Ungle and paid close attention as she talked me through it. We needed more people who could do basic first aid if we were going to survive this island.

I carefully check his bandages making sure the bleeding hadn’t started again. Hopefully we could get him on his feet before we started back to the ship. Dragging his large carcass would slow the evacuation. While I waited for him to wake up, so I could bully him into eating the stew Addie sent up, I felt a certain smugness contemplating how I was going to break the news that I had in fact won our little contest.

He stirred so I gently slapped his cheek and jumped back, rightly anticipating that he would wake up swinging.

“Calm down you’ll open your wounds.”

His eyes focused on me across the small room. “Elf.” He grunted. “Why you be here?”

I wasn’t sure if it was his tusk filled mouth or the fact the common was obviously his second language that made understanding him a challenge, one that I was of course up to. “You need to eat. As soon as we manage to convince the town’s folk of the necessity of evacuation we will be headed back to Harbinger. You need your strength.”

“Bah, Ungle have strength, so much that it is in… how you say…spades!”

Despite his words he enthusiastically dug into the bowl I offered him.

He glared at me. “Ungle eat! Why you be still here?”

I clasped my hand behind my head and stretched my legs in front of me crossing my ankles modestly. “I just wanted to know how you were feeling.”

He glared suspiciously “Ungle good, once more Ungle Orcs be better than Elves. Why you so happy?” he put the empty bowl on the chest of drawers beside the bed.

“Oh?” I arched my eyebrow. “Since when has nearly getting yourself killed equaled wining? I’ll admit you killed more men faster than me, but you went down hard after five. I took three with minimal injury to myself and could have easily taken three more as still walked away.”

“Five and half!” Ungle glared. “You take pride in fighting like coward? Orcs have word for Coward… it is Elf!”

I couldn’t help it I smiled partly in relief that we had all survived and partly because I could so easily see through his need to prove himself based on flawed notions of masculinity. I leaned forward and trailed my fingers down his arm, absurdly pleased as he flinch wearily away. “Don’t worry Ungle, I’ll teach you about stamina before we do it again.” I tucked the bemused Half Orc in before taking the bowl and leaving the room. He needed his rest and I needed to see to Elthoron before the town meeting.

Showdown at the Lonely Blossom Saloon

18th of Patchwall, 381 ONT, Amberdale, Kenzrenad, 2:13pm

Mandy clung tightly to Ser Thalion as he rode into town behind Mr. Subaru and in front of Ms. Ouellette, Mr. Ungle and Bosun Rogard. Their horses trotted with purpose and she had seen the scary men on the rooves holding their muskets with cocky ease. She squeezed Ser Thalion a little tighter nervous and filled with tension. Mandy was awed at how her companions seemed so at ease… save for Bosun Rogard, he did not look at ease at all on his pony. They had crossed the town and Mr. Subaru had dismounted and knocked on the stable when she heard the call… it was friendly enough but still the sudden noise had made her start. Her head swiveled around first seeing give men approaching all with weapons then back to Ser Thalion, the elf winked and her and offered a quick grin, then her head was back to the men approaching. The fellow in the middle was shorter and a little pudgy, she had a salt and pepper beard and was balding a bit, he held a musket with ease and had a shiny star on his chest; He must be Sheriff Tait Mandy figured.

“Hello there strangers….” The Sheiff had called, Mandy had missed the next bit, but was sure she heard his final words “…we don’t allow strangers to carry weapons in our town, throw them down now” Mandy could see a whispered conversation flying between Ser Thalion, Ms. Ouellette and Mr. Subaru. The little girl looked around she couldn’t stand the tension, the streets were so quiet you could hear the nervous nicker of the horses or the squeak of leather on leather at each little movement. It was Aurelia who moved first drawing her Musket and firing in one clean motion, she shot one of the Sheriffs men, who quickly drew a pistol and just missed Mr. Subaru. Too much happened at once now as the street exploded into calamity, the horses were spooked and began to jump and thrash, the bangs of muskets and thunks of crossbows filled the air. Ser Thalion knew his horses and somehow his didn’t spook, Mandy wasn’t going to wait she slipped off the back and made a run for it, squeaking as she felt arrows just miss her, she was scared, and threw herself under the board walk in front of the saloon.

“ARRRRRRGG!” she saw Mr. Ungle yell in a rage and swing his axe cleaving a man’s head open. Mandy had to look away for fear of emptying her stomach. She looked back and saw a man shoot Mr. Subaru, her friend staggered slightly but hefted his bow and fired at the enemies again. She could hear fighting above her as well as things started to get loud inside the saloon. She watched Ms. Ouellettes horse die and tears came unbidden as she recalled giving Pom Pom apples that afternoon on the way to Amberdale. Her friends were dying, and she was watching, she felt herself screaming on the inside, if only she could do something… anything. “My Pistol” she said the words out loud cursing herself for being so slow, Mr. Ironbraid had given it to her and schooled her well on how to use it

“Fer yer protection only lass, no one’s expectin ya to be fellin our foes” he’d said. Now she fumbled at her belt and pulled the weapon out. Her hands were shaking, and it was hard to see with all the dust kicked up and the tears in her eyes. Trembling fingers found the powder packet and ball and carefully put them into the muzzle of the pistol. She took the little ram rod and stomped it down as well as she could before replacing the rod… she had the pistol ready, and remembered to keep it pointing up so the ball would not fall out. Now what? She looked across the battlefield, Mr. Ungle was fighting two more people. Ser Thallion had a spear and seemed to be helping. Mr. Suberu looked pretty bad off but kept shooting, as did Ms. Ouellette. She took aim a few times, but was scared to hit her friends… or what if they noticed her and hurt her… more tears came along with the realization that she was a coward… she didn’t want to hurt anyone… she didn’t want to get hurt either.


She heard heavy steps on the board walk above her. She looked up through the cracks to see a tall man with a bow. She watched in horror as the man drew an arrow and sighted Mr. Subaru, she didn’t know how she knew he was going to get shot, but she did… she went to scream but no sound came as she opened her mouth… just a muffled croak. The man’s arrow sped across the dusty violence strewn street and slammed into Mr. Subaru with the impetus of death. Mr. Suberu staggered under the weight of the blow. It had hit his chest and there was certainly blood on his lips but as if in defiance of death itself he refused to fall. The Bowman almost leisurely pulled another arrow from his quiver and prepared another shot.

“no, no, no…. no, no no no” Mandy whispered as her hands seemed to move of their own accord she looked through the knothole in the boardwalk one more time and then moved the muzzle of the pistol so it was up against it…. “Sorry” she whispered as she closed her eyes and pulled the trigger



She opened her eyes slowly and let out a silent scream of horror. The bowman and fallen forward with his head handing over the boardwalk, staring at her with accusing lifeless eyes.


Blood began to slowly drip through the cracks and knothole dripping onto the poor little girl. But she couldn’t move, trapped but the stare of the man she’d murdered. She didn’t know how long she sat there, how long she had stared at the man until he’d been pulled away and Ser Thalion’s face appeared looking under the board walk. Instinct caused her to start and point the pistol but the calm elven voice penetrated her fog of fear.

“Easy there Mandy, it’s just me… why don’t you pass me your pistol and come out of there” Mandy wasn’t sure she could move, she felt sick and sticky and wrong, tears continued to pour down her bloody face. “parvulus veniat omnia iam” the elf said in its own tongue (Come young one, all is now well). Mandy didn’t know what the words meant, but the melody of the speech made her feel better, she looked into the grey eyes ahead of her and nodded slightly “Bellum innoxiis sit locus” the elf said taking the pistol from her hand (war is no place for the innocent). She did not stop Ser Thalion from reaching in and pulling her out. The kind elfin knight looked her up and down, quickly pulled a cloak from a ruck sack and wrapped it around Mandy. Walking her around the corner and sitting her on the board walk where she faced no dead bodies. In the common tongue the elf said “Sit a moment Mandy, I will get you some water to wash and clean up”. It was a warm day, but for some reason Mandy could not stop shivering.

Water Lookout

16th of Patchwall 381 ONT, Harbinger Harbor, Kezrenad

Addie Ficken slipped through the small town and down towards the Warf. She knew the Count kept watch for people who might try to leave by the great river but this was her last best hope, she had to find help. The heavy rain and storm made it a dubious time to attempt an escape, but also a time that nobody would be watching for boat thieves. She lowered herself into a two person skiff and undid the knots carefully pushing off, the water was choppy and the wind was up, but her kids needed her to find help, find anyone and get back before Count Aderal did. She set the oars and let them into the water pulling carefully and aligning the little boat for the northern most mouth of the harbor. She knew little about ships or trade lanes but hoped that there would be someone out there, maybe a navy ship from one of the Great States, if not maybe she could make it to Stormbreak and appeal to the King directly, if he knew what was going on, surely he would do something about it… wouldn’t he? She gritted her teeth against the cold and pulled at the oars disappearing into the stormy night.

A Ripe Land Pt 3

14th of Patchwall 381ONT, Amberdale, Kezrenad, two days before Water Lookout

“We can’t allow this to keep happening, first it was the Yeoman, then Eddy Twinkets and Let’s not forget what happened the Shane’s homestead… we need to stand up and fight while we still have a fighting chance” Evard Ficken stood on a chair on the stage in the small town hall talking to the assembled townsfolk. There were some 50 or so people gathered in the town hall, some women and children and the fighting aged folk of most the township. It was Woody Tompkins who stood up next to speak.

“Still have a chance? He has at least 150 men, and he’s bought Sheriff Tait… we would be slaughtered” there was a murmur of assent throughout the crowd but Evard stood again, as he did, his daughter Addie tried to urge him down, but he shook back his hand

“I have fought my entire life for what we have now, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let some rich bastard stroll in and take it from us. We have to stand up together now or He’ll pick us off one family at a time and…” Evard cut off his words as the door swung open. In walked four men, each had a chainmail shirt and a heavy crossbow in their hands, behind them was the none other than Sheriff Tait, he stepped into the room and stood beside the door. Next marched in Abraham Swanson a muscled bound half ogre cradling a massive musket in his arms and a nasty scowl on his face. At long last entered Count Aderal followed by his ever present shadow Prescott. The armed men fanned around the room as the Count worked his way to the front of the room eyeing the blacksmith and Saloon owner who both still stood as he did. Evard, at his daughters urging relinquished the stage to the Count and resumed his seat amongst the gathered villagers.

“Peoples of Amberdale, I come to you as not just a Count from Don-Ton but as a man of integrity, wisdom, education and…” he paused with a slight frown as he took in the simplistic decorations of the town hall “… taste”. I have found gold in the mountains here, and have brought workers and industry to the land, and instead of embracing me, you and your ilk continue to be an ever present annoyance, making trouble for my people… trying to enforce land claims and property lines… and other ridicules assertions. In my infinite generosity and wisdom, or perhaps due to the fact that next week I may well be a father…” he turned what some could only guess to be a smile on Prescott “I have decided to settle on these claims once and for all… I will offer 10 Don- Ton Gold Pieces for every parcel of land…”

“Are you nuts, my land is worth five times that” said Edwin Larsen, a local carpenter. The Count glared at the man and it would not be far-fetched to believe that the Count was trying to bore through his soul with his withering glare. Then as if coming to a quick decision the count nodded and pointed to Edwin


There were a series of screams and cries as a heavy crossbow bolt lodged itself in poor Edwins neck, he gasped and gurgled as he slumped into his wife’s lap before falling to the floor dead… some in the room tried to stand or rush to his aid, but the other men at arms pointed their weapons implying a similar fate to any who dared to intercede. The Count grinned a predators grin and continued

“I think you will find my offer most fair and generous, I have even decided to allow you all some time to think about it; My son will be born in Abarrow in two weeks’ time, When I return with him I will expect you all ready to sign over your land, if you choose not to… well I guess we will see what happens” The Count made a motion with his finger and quickly the towns folk found themselves herded outside at weapons point, women and children were push and bullied and the threat of weapon use was evident, once they were amassed outside the Count spoke “I think these gatherings are proving poor for the public good, there will be no more” with that several more men approached with barrels of oil and began soaking the town hall. Within moments they were finished and the building was lit up. People cried and screamed but the good people of Amberdale were forced to watch. As the flames reached their zenith enough was enough

“You coward!” Called Evard “You petulant little boy… you can’t do this to good people, I won’t allow…”


The count pulled his pistol and shot the old innkeeper in the chest, he fell backwards gasping. But he had been a catalyst, others turned and tried to fight and within the minute twenty five of the most able bodied townsfolk lay dead or dying on the ground, their children and loved ones brutally pulled back from their bodies and shoved into the remainder of the crowd. The Count turned to the Sheriff

“Leave the bodies to rot where they fell until I get back, let that inspire further contemplation from these fine folk…” he then turned to Prescott “I think our point is made… let us head toward Abarrow and collect my son from that whore”

“Yes my lord” replied the loyal steward

A Letter to the King

To: His Majesty King Tobald of the Kingdom of Kezrenad

I pains me so to deliver you this most unfortunate news. On the 9th of Planting I am afraid you stout and loyal Yeoman passed away. It is the belief of my personal physician that the man had caught a spring chill and with his tender age degraded into a fit of pneumonia. Alas it is my understanding that he likely died horribly choking and sputtering desperately grasping for breath and finding none would come to his frail beleaguered lungs. If only my retinue had made into Amberdale sooner, perhaps we could have seen to the man and aided him, but that is not how the gods appear to have willed things.

I do not wish to speak ill of the dead you’re Majesty, but I am afraid that you Yeoman while popular with his people has been rather lax in assuring the town’s safety, upkeep and tax collection. As I felt that you would want these matters seen to I have taken it upon myself to assure that things are kept to your high standards. Enclosed please find this chest of silver which equates to the back taxes that these Harbinger and Amberdale owe to you. If your Majesty is happy with the current arrangement I am more than willing to continue to oversee these fiefdoms for you saving you the expense and cost of sending new administrator so far and covering their wages; it is no trouble at all and gives me purpose while I oversee my mining claims.

Deepest regards,

Dictated by Count Aderal C. Fahee, Son of Duchess Lorain Gorlia Bromhall of the House of Pepsica, 3rd Daughter of Lord Caspian Pepsica, 9th in line to the Throne of Don-Ton

A Ripe New Land Pt 2

9th of Planting, 381 ONT, Kenzrenad, Harbinger, 4 months before Water Lookout

Yeoman Oton stood from his old cherry wood chair. His bones creaked as he forced himself into a standing position to face the man at the far end of his receiving room.

“This must come to an end Count Aderal,” his voice wheezed and coughed from the spring chill but there was still and air of authority to it. “This is the fifth complaint in three months about your men being violent to my people in Amberdale” The Count glared across the room at the elderly Yoeman with a look of annoyance and contempt. Every fiber of the Count’s being hated that this jumped up commoner had the power to summon him here.

“Yeoman Oton, as I have stated your people are making mountains from molehills, this is a frontier town, and as such people can get a little rowdy, but all the disputes were taken to the sheriff and he said things were fine” the Count moved forward with is hands outstretched as he spoke, his face wore a small smirk that others might suppose was an attempt at a placating smile

“I will remind you Count Aderal; that I am the law in Amberdale, and the Sheriff is but a stop gap measure, I have heard complaints from the people and I will see these infractions stopped. King Toebald may have given you the right to mine in those mountains, but he did not give you title or right to assault my people. I am ordering you to bring your accused men before me so that I might make proper judgement” there was no wavering in the Yeoman’s voice as he made his declaration he stepped across the room and his blue eyes held those of the Count’s. The Count’s face began to grow read with anger he let out a few breaths as he tried to control his temper

“You… are ordering me?” he said the voice raising an octave in his outrage at the very concept of the matter

“Yes, I am” the Yeoman replied his voice level

“You…. You… YOU!” the Count sputtered “HOW DARE YOU!” the Count’s gloved hands shot out like an attacking viper locking around the throat of the elderly Yeoman. “HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU! YOU ORDER NOTHING… NOTHING!” The Count was red with rage as he strangled the Yeoman. For his part the Yeoman attempted to break free, but the strength and rage of the Count proved too much. The Count sputtered and spit in the Yeoman’s face as he drained the life from him “YOU… DO… NOT… ORDER… YOUR… BETTERS!” he said shaking the man a she choked him. This carried on for some minutes the two slumping to the ground until finally the Count regained his composure. He turned to his loyal ever present Steward “Look what he made me do, just look Prescott”

“He was quite out of line my Lord” Prescott responded

“He was, wasn’t he…?” The Count said as he rose to his feet dusting off his gloves “Well, we will have to do something about it, he has those two thugs of his who roam this abysmal town… have an accident find each of them… quickly, and arrange for my things to be moved in here from the hotel, this building is in much better repair that that dreadful little inn”

“Of course my Lord” Prescott responded, the steward bowed his head and turned to leave when he was stopped

“Prescott… Bring me a glass of port, it helps calm me after such frenzies”

“Right away my Lord”


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