“Melton is a deeply divided land. Caught in a trifold divide between; the aristocrats, mostly formed from old lineages tracing back to the old House Meltius; the yeomanry and peasantry, mostly from migrants and others who filtered into Melton over time; and the Beastkin and Raiders, Local tribes who lived here since ages past and raiders from Nautica. It is a land that constantly has to manage the demands of the different constituencies, though with the invasion of Dracen, most of the beastfolk remaining are either enslaved or fourth class citizens with little sympathy from the greater populace. Meaning that their needs are now rarely met in the halls of policy as the barony of Dracen grows ever more restless. A dangerous situation in my eyes.”
- Commander Seamus Eymer, Frostwind Sentinel, Discussion with Researcher Edmund Hagsbane
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“Loose!” A voice echoed throughout the hallway.
A volley of arrows slammed into the surprised knights, many fell as only a few had their shields raised.
“Forward!” The voice ordered, and a contingent of household knights and royal guardsmen pushed past the archers, running through the few knights that survived the volley.
The palace walls were coated with evidence of violence, many courtiers and servants caught within the crossfire, just as many nobles too found themselves caught in the middle. Most of the traitors had already been dispatched, but few still roamed the palace halls and more still had fled to the adjoining castle, the jewel of Melisgrad, Goldenlight Keep.
Situated on a bluff along the city’s coastline, the palace and subsequent castle were incredibly well defended against hostile attacks. The city acted as a large maze of tunnels for the attackers, the palace and palatial walls a staggering behemoth of construction ingenuity, the cliff side of the bluff a natural wall against naval attacks. Yet it was all for naught, as the rebellion sparked up internally, from within the very defenses, and the formidable walls and towers were now a prison. Around the palace and the castle was now a ring of iron and stone, no one gets in or out all in service of a simple goal, to depose a king.
Second Prince Edward had long chafed against King Bran’s tyranny. Throughout the years he watched as his father had long ignored the wishes of the council, disregarded the rights of the lords in pursuit of his own goals. It came to a head during the kingsmoot, when despite the advice of most of the gathered lords, the king refused to take action. Seeing his moment to change Meltonian history, Prince Edward rallied the dissatisfied nobles and used his personal retinue, augmented by mercenaries from the north to overwhelm the palace guard. Those who stood in their way were simply cut down as they hunted for the king.
He had always been more interested in politics than his brothers, a fact not expected when he was first born. Standing almost six foot tall, with the same hawk like nose and dark stubble that everyone else in the family had, but with the key difference being the more orange-brown eyes of his mother and youngest brother Leo. Everyone thought that with his muscular frame, commanding face and height that he would be like First Prince Andrews, a warrior, knightly figure of legend who gallantly led brave Meltonians into combat. But his mind remained drawn to the more learned pathways much to his parent's disappointment and to "leave this for your brothers." He was never a contender for kingship but here he stood, as leader of a united Meltonian aristocracy and people, united by their desire for action and rage.
The few surviving loyalist lords had fled, likely whisking away his brother Third Prince Alvin out from under him. Whilst the revolutionaries had summoned their own troops to support the attack. The brief conflict lasted for all of four days, and now it seemed that the fall of Goldenlight was all but certain.
They had retreated beyond the siege cordon the past few in an attempt to force a peaceful ceasefire, but King Bran had proved unwilling, and with reluctance Prince Edward ordered the clearing of the palace and the castle.
Beyond the hallway, a faint click could be heard as stone walls on the other end parted, a nervous looking weasel of a man stepped through, quivering in fear as behind him a dozen odd green, tall and vicious orc barbarians followed along.
A particularly tall and muscular orc draped with chainmail and furs pushed past the weasel and nodded.
“Manling.”
“Warchief.”
The green giant spoke and Edward responded.
“Your spy speaks the truth, this tunnel leads into the keep. An emergency exit, or an opportune entrance.” The orc grinned and Edward nodded, gesturing for his contingent of knights to proceed.
Falling in line with the orcs, the warchief grunted approvingly as the group got moving. This was a gamble for the Prince, to sneak directly into the keep and force a negotiation, bringing along the orcs as both intimidation and as evidence for the threats that must unite the nation.
Dank cobbled stone walls glistened with a hint of moisture, vines and other flora having snuck their way in over the years. An eerie silence rang loud from ahead, and the assault force walked wearily as only the sofft clattering of their boots and armour echoed down the long hallway. The operational silence was only briefly disturbed when they passed by a small section with torches, a few corpses of the guards that maintained the tunnel and Edward muttered a small prayer for their souls. Collateral damage on the road to unification.
“My lords and compatriots, the passage ends here. It connects to the grand hall, you best be ready.” Lord Aeldred’s weasel like voice rang out from up ahead, his hand held onto an unused sconce.
The combined knights, guards, orcs and lords glanced at each other before looking to their prince.
“Very well, let this pointless conflict end here. Father, will, must see reason.” Edward proclaimed and the group shared a quiet cheer.
Lord Aeldred pushed down on the sconce and the old mechanisms creaked out a rusty screech as the decades old gears grinded against each other. The squadron collectively pulled out their weapons, a mess of swords, axes and crossbows as the tension rose with every squeak they all watched wordlessly as the walls lifted to reveal a well decorated if just shy of opulent throne room.
“Secure the keep!” Edward yelled.
“Yes my lord!” The men responded whilst the orcs just let loose guttural roars and charged in with the soldiers.
Surprised men-at-arms and crown guards were cut down in a moment and a handful of royal huscarls formed a shield wall in front of a doorway. Orcs jumped past their human allies and smashed into the shield walls with their axes, pulling away the huscarls shields as their knightly comrades thrusted into the lines. The majority of the defenders wilted under the assault and the few retreated deeper into the castle.
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“Lord Roderick, take your sentinels and secure the surrounding area, warchief, we give chase!”
“Yes, your highness.” One of the knights acknowledged and led a contingent out a northern doorway.
“Mmm now this is why I’m here manling.” The warchief grinned.
Pushing through the doorway they found themselves in another hallway as another set of defenders sallied forth to meet them.
“Protect the king!”
“For Melton!”
Before Prince Edward could speak, the battle was joined. A clash of steel and arms as many were quickly cut down in moments. An orgy of violence desecrated the royal hallways as all but three defenders perished under the orcish bloodlust. Edward’s contingent only suffered a wounded guardsmen and one orc lost. Demoralized, the defenders surrendered and pointed towards another door down the hall. Edward shared a glance with Lord Aeldred and the man nodded. Performing some hand gestures the attackers readied themselves. One last confrontation.
“Allow me” The warchief smiled and Prince Edward watched in awe as the orc lifted a meaty leg and launched the reinforced doorway straight off its hinges.
The shock wore off quickly enough and they stormed in, surprising a gathering of lords and his father at the head of a round table.
“W-what is the meaning of this?” One of the lords asked without even blinking the warchief snapped the man’s neck, throwing his still warm corpse to the floor.
“The manling speaks, the rest listen, quietly.” He growled, pointing to Prince Edward even as the few guards in the room bravely armed themselves.
Nodding his tepid approval, Prince Edward stepped forward followed by Aeldred, much to the horror of the gathered council and king.
“You trait-” one of the lord’s spoke before wilting under the orc’s malevolent gaze.
“My apologies, fellow members of the witan. But I have made my choice.” Aeldred bowed his head politely much to their consternation.
King Bran on the other hand, looked defeated, a face wrinkled with resignation and anger.
“Speak, my son.” He spoke, his voice trembling with rage.
Prince Edward looked to his supporters, and with their own little acknowledgements of support, he began addressing the gathered lords.
“My fellow lords and ladies of Melton, I apologize for the nature of this meeting. But Melton has spoken, the assembly of lords has spoken, and they call for action. For too long the King, my father, and you, leaders of the witan, have held back our people, denied our right to take action.”
“But surely this doesn’t justify a coup on your own father?” A councilor clad in yellow and green robes spoke up.
“Oh? It doesn’t? For years, years! Melton has suffered from Carradorians abducting our frontiersmen from the border. For years! Father had claimed bandits, animals, or some other wild manner of creature took their lives. For years! Our people yearned for action and you denied them, and even now we still seek justice-”
“Justice?! What justice?!” King Bran slammed the table with a ferocious roar, startling everyone and even the brutish chieftain unintentionally winced.
“Father…”
“I protect Meltonian interests, I protected our borders and I ensured that we did not earn any more unnecessary ire from our neighbors. Our people suffer but we have no proof that the Carradorians are the ones raiding our villages, no proof that they are the ones abducting our peoples, hells even the Carrdorians suffer from such disappearances. And now an undead menace has revealed itself, the true culprit behind the crime and you all still doubt my judgment?!”
“Really? The undead? The same skeletons and zombified messes that roam around aimlessly and shamble along until some luckless farmer puts them down with a pitchfork? Those undead are the ones that caused our woes and theirs? The same undead somehow ambushed Prince Leo, dearest brother and your own son, might I remind you, in a precision attack that could only have happened if planned by a high intelligence being. That somehow these mindless dead could execute something of that caliber and still somehow remain undetected?”
“Yes! As the crisis shows!”
“I cannot…cannot fathom how you can’t see the simple truth, father. That they, the people, the Carradorians took brother Leo, and you refuse to attack them because of peace?!” Edward yelled, “Peace their kobold asses, Melton has had enough, I’ve had enough. Have you seen the people suffering? The woman crying for their lost children or fathers crying for their families? Do you seriously believe Carrador is not involved and that the undead hordes could somehow pull that off?”
A vein almost popped in his father’s head but King Bran sat himself back down with gritted teeth, “Yes. I truly believe that the undead are controlled by some higher power and are in fact, acting with impunity across the Mistveil. And that they are the ones that took dear Leo.”
A murmur of discontent spread through Prince Edward’s ranks as they digested his words and the dissatisfaction was best summarized by the warchief.
“Disgusting.” The orc growled.
“Ahem,” Prince Edward quickly chimed back in, “Regardless father, it is over. Relinquish the crown bloodlessly and tell us where my brother Alvin is.”
“Tsh, so you can kill him?” The King barked back sarcastically and Edward glowered at him.
“So I can convince him of his folly…father.”
“If only I could believe you,” Bran sighed, “He is long gone, Duke Lucien had already taken him away. Now,” King Bran effortlessly removed the crown and threw it at Edward, the man ducking as it clattered against the wall, “Leave me be.”
Sighing, Edward picked up the crown and studied it before handing it to a nearby knight. “You know I cannot allow that father, you shall be put in house arrest and sent to Stramere. The rest of you witan…I had expected better from you but as Melton must unite to face its threats you are all pardoned of your crimes.” Edward began, earning a few breaths of relief as the tension left more than a few shoulders.
His knights too began lowering their weapons and the kings guard seemed to deflate as well. No one moved to stop Bran as the man somberly exited the meeting room, the door closing behind him with a sad click.
“Lord Aeldred, though I admire not your treachery, I appreciate your sacrifice for the realm, hence I shall appoint you as the realm’s chancellor considering Earl Rutley’s untimely demise.” Edward interrupted the silence.
The weasel’s eyes seemed to glint with exuberance and he quickly bowed. “Thank you my liege! I will not disappoint!”
Ignoring the compliment Edward pointed at the map on the table, “Your first task is to ensure Earl Rutely’s family does not rise up in open rebellion and try to quell dissent for this unfortunate event. Forcefully or otherwise. Your second task is to send a missive to Carrador. Tell King Edelin that Melton marches to war, that we will crush their heads beneath our boots until they return to us my brother and our people.”
At that a small murmur of agreement coursed through the room, even the councilors offered their half hearted agreements at this proposal.
“Duke Brynn,” Edward addressed an older man who was sat at the table, “I appreciate greatly your contribution to the safety of the realm but…”
“Save your yammering young man, get on with it.” The older man waved his hand in annoyance.
“Very well, Lord Sykes, I appoint you marshal of the realm. See to it that the Duke gives you no trouble and begin an immediate search for Prince Alvin, do what you need to, the realm must remain united.” Edward turned to one of his knights.
“Yes milord!”
“My lords and ladies, and err warchief. Melton stands at a crossroads, and though my father held back our rage, he is here no longer. We march to war, to reclaim what is ours and to avenge our people. Let the world know our might! The power of the lion’s of Melton. Let them hear the pride’s roar for eternity.”
“The pride roars eternal!” His retinue echoed.
With a heavy heart Edward turned his attention to the map on the table and sighed. With just one swift strike against the crown, the Kingdom of Melton was now at war.