2nd June, 1329.

Douglas, Scotland.

Earth.

Duncan stood in the sun's warmth, enjoying the breeze.

In the areas surrounding the town of Douglas, the weather had finally returned to summer.

That morning, he'd risen early and gone for a walk with Lady. From atop the ridge next to the town he could see the borders of the Lord’s lands.

This was the first time he'd truly felt like he was living through the Apocalypse.

He came up here often when walking Lady. It provided a nice view and a place to think about the goings on of the town.

Usually, he couldn't see the exact line where the lands of Douglas ended and neighboring fiefs began.

Now, a stark line divided the distant icy landscape from the rolling green fields of home. The sight made him uneasy, reminding him of the sermons warning of witchcraft.

There had been too much talk of it lately for his comfort.

The church constantly spoke of witchcraft, ever since the attempted assassination of the Pope by witches a few years before. Any magic was considered at best sorcery. An act of the devil. Duncan shuddered. He hoped the Priest was wrong.

Father Doreen had made no bones about suggesting the Lord of Douglas consorted with witches. He’d even hinted that the Lady herself WAS a witch.

Of course, he’d only begun speaking like that once the Lord and Lady were a day beyond their own fief. Well out of earshot of any of the guards or Sir Keith.

About half the townsfolk seemed to agree with the priest, and a few scuffles had broken out between those loyal to the Lord and those loyal to the Priest. Sir Keith had sent a few men down from the Keep to maintain the peace.

The sun was rising in the sky. Knowing he'd better get back before his father noticed him gone, he turned to Lady. "Come on, girl!" He called. He watched her charge out of a bush, panting up to him for a pat. Giving her a generous scratch behind the ears as well, Duncan made his way back down the slope. Lady, as ever, only a few steps behind.

As Duncan returned to town, he had gone outside to check on the mornings bake. As he reached the door to into the room which housed the ovens, he froze.

Slumped across the door, he found one of the Keeps guardsman lying unconscious and badly beaten.

Duncan run into Bakery, Lady hot on his heels, and told his father.

His Pa was the Lord’s man through and through.

The Baker rushed outside, "Give me a hand with him, lad. Then get to the Keep, and tell the guard to fetch Sir Keith!" He ordered. He lifted the man and took him inside the bakery, ensuring his wife prepared a cloth to clean the mans wounds as he settled him on a cot.

Duncan, having helped his father move the injured man, left the bakery with a nod, running through the streets. He dodged around the few workmen who had risen early to take advantage of the weather.

Duncan was used to running. He enjoyed it. Lady kept him active all year round, and he’d even shepherded with some of the older lads, calling Lady to herd the mutton with whistles and calls.

Duncan had seen older men do similar things with their collies, but Lady was smarter than most. The noises Duncan made were random and meant nothing. He was just along for the fun. Lady did all the work, snapping at heels, twisting and darting after strays. She knew where the sheep needed to go, and she did her job perfectly every time.

The older shepherds knew the game and grinned whenever Duncan turned up. But they were grateful for Lady’s expert help and always paid him a share.

As he reached the keep, he saw one of those same shepherds standing before the gates. A guard looked down glaring at the shepherd. “You can't waste our time on tall tales, Fergus! The Lord has gone to see the King." He called. "Taken most of the garrison too, so we have no time for nonsense about monsters stealing sheep!”

Duncan called up. “Then what about news that someone attacked one of the Lord’s men, and is being cared for by my Pa, the Baker?”

The guard did a double take. “What?” he asked. “Who would dare to attack the Lord’s guards in his own town?” He asked, enraged.

“I dunno, sir.” Duncan replied. He looked over at the sheepherder. “But it may be whoever is dressing up as a monster and taking Fergus' sheep!” The shepherd gave him a grateful nod.

The guard nodded. “I shall fetch Sir Keith.” He said. “He’ll know how to deal with this.”

While you clearly don’t! Thought Duncan. He supposed that there was a reason Lord Douglas had left the man behind.

Duncan had been slowly levelling up since the day Liam and his fellows had shown him how to gain experience with the rats. He’d also made an effort to apply himself in the Bakery, aiding his Pa in kneading clean dough, and had learned how to make beet-sugar treats. His father was impressed by the change in his son, and had begun to treat him with a measure of respect.

Duncan was proud of what he'd achieved. He had almost reached level 4, and on hearing how to assign the attributes from his Pa, he’d put all his points into intelligence and charisma.

The curtain wall gate opened with a boom of wood on stone, and Sir Keith stepped into view. He wore his full raiment. A gambeson, over which hung a mail hauberk. Mail chausses covered his legs and ran into sturdy leather boots. A visored bascinet partially obscured his face, hanging open on its lateral hinge, while an aventail hung from the helm to protect his neck and chin.

Duncan had never seen a knight bedecked for battle before. He’d only imagined them. Seeing Sir Keith arrayed for war was a terrifying sight! How would anyone ever kill a man wearing this much protection? He thought.

Sir Keith stopped before Fergus and Duncan. Dropping one end of the large wooden club into the roadway, the knight rested his hands upon its hilt. Three of the twelve men left to protect the keep strode behind him.

“Now what’s this about one of my men being attacked?” He asked.

Duncan stepped forward. “It’s true Sir, someone attacked the guard last night! My Pa and I helped him into the Bakery.”

He turned to Duncan. “You’re the baker’s boy?” Duncan nodded. “Very well. You are now in service to the Lord of Douglas. We need more men, and you’ll do. Fall in behind the other men.” Sir Keith ordered.

Looking at the old knight, Duncan saw a tiredness there that went bone deep.

Even so, his eyes were cold, angry things. Like stone.

The shepherd looked astonished as the Seneschal appeared. The man was older too, in his early sixties, but still spry.

“Sir Keith.” he said hopefully. "May I also join ye?"

“Aye, you too Fergus.” Sir Keith said. “I assume you remember how to swing that crook of yours?” he asked, receiving a nod. "We may need to crack a few heads today, that damned troublesome Priest's too!" he said, and set off into the town.

All six men walked in step, turning onto the main road. Once there, a group of townsfolk waited to confront them. Their faces displaying a mixture of anger and frustration.

There were only about twenty men, each armed with a collection of bows or polearms. Most of which came from the Douglas armoury. Lord Douglas distributed them to ensure the people of the town could protect themselves from the Harpies, should they return.

“Stand aside goodmen!” Sir Keith warned. “Malcontents injured one of the Lord’s men last night. If you were they, speak up, and surrender yerselves!”

The Priest stood behind them. “Well, Sir Keith, it seems you’re outnumbered.” He said. “Throw down your weapon and surrender the keep to me.”

Sir Keith laughed. “Surrender the Keep, ye say?” He shook his head, his mail aventail clinking as it twisted.

"Outnumbered, I may be, but never outmatched! You forget, Priest, that I've a reputation beyond that of a Seneschal. That still means something." He paused, glaring as the Priest laughed, waving his hand dismissively.

"Your reputation means nothing, old man." he mocked. "What did you do? Kill some villagers once upon a time?"

“It may mean little to you, but plenty of English widows of the Battle of Stirling, Bannockburn and Falkirk recall Sir Keith the Red.” Sir Keith hefted his large club. The crowd edged back noticeably. Sir Keith left his sword at his side. Confident he would not need it if things came to blows.

The priest paused, surprised that the townsfolk were so intimidated, then the priest looked around himself. Seeing his greater numbers, he gained in confidence once more.

“Many of these goodmen have leveled Sir Keith. They have no wish to harm you, but Lord Douglas’ influence with demonic forces and witchcraft has gone too far." he said.

“It now risks all of our immortal souls. I will absolve these good people for rebelling. They are only serving God’s will.” The priest argued, attempting to reason with the Knight.

This all annoyed Duncan immensely. These were his neighbors, and they wanted to rebel? Only a day after the Lord left? And all this business about it being God's will? He'd never heard of a priest rebelling against his parish's Lord.

It was unthinkable!

Duncan, unable to restrain himself from speaking against the idiocy of it all, stepped past Sir Keith.

“With all respect to the Church, I never heard of a man of God seeking to usurp the Lord's authority!” Duncan said, talking to the crowd. “I mean, he’s just a priest! Not even a vicar or anything.”

Duncan didn't hold a weapon, so he raised a hand in friendly greeting to the cooper, who stood at the front of the mob. “Hello there John! My Pa and I have known you and your son for all our lives, Master Cooper. And I know you’re a good man, loyal to Lord James. Why are you doing this, Sir?” He asked.

John didn't reply. But looked about, somewhat ashamed.

“They have God’s…” the priest started.

How dare he! He may be the priest, but he didn’t speak for the town! Duncan fumed.

“Shut your damn pie-hole, mister.” He yelled. His youthful voice cracking awkwardly. "I dinnae ask you!"

Sir Keith was staring at Duncan, chuckling, but still impressed at his ferocity.

“I was asking my friend here why he would want to do such a horrible thing. Why would he want to rebel against his sworn Lord?”

The Master Cooper looked down at his feet, suddenly embarrassed. It was one thing to join a mob for a bit of fun. Another entirely to be rebel and traitor. Especially to set yourself against Lord James 'the Good' Douglas.

All knew what he'd done for his people, freeing them from the Clifford's harsh rule on behalf of the English King.

While he might not like the System much, it was hardly the Lord's fault for using it on the town's behalf.

“I don’t rightly know.” He said, shifting uncomfortably.

“It just ain’t right. All this apocalypsing, and the system, and the levels.” He paused. “All I want to do is raise my son and make my barrels. But then the Lord decides we need to level up, whatever that is, and what next? Fight demons? And all this business with the weather. Well, it ain't natural.”

Duncan responded. "Aye, it ain't. But neither is the onset of winter during what should be Summer!" he pointed out. "We ain't living in normal times. What harm of it if the Lord uses the system to help us?"

He was winning over the crowd.

The cooper considered this.

“I'm a godly man, but I ain’t no fighter. I ain’t. And so I won’t.”

With a start of realization, he looked at the cooper axe he held. Frowning, he turned around, tucked the coopers axe back into his belt and set off for home. “Come along, Will!” he called to his son. "This ain't our business. This is between the Priest and the Lord." He said.

William, a tall lad of fifteen, was holding a thick piece of wood. "But Da!" he protested. "The Priest said..."

"I dinnae care what the egit said." The Cooper grabbed his son roughly, pulling him along behind him. "He's wrong, and we all know it. If he has something to say about Her Ladyship, he should write the Bishop and have him send men. It isn’t our place to judge the Laird."

Duncan hadn’t seen William in the crowd, but as soon as Mr Brown walked away, dragging his son and berating him for his protests, others began moving as well. Soon, a general murmur had spread through the crowd. Of the twenty people present before Duncan spoke, only two men remained with the Priest. Neither of them familiar to Duncan.

Seeing his chance dissolve, the priest ordered the men to follow him, and he beat a hasty retreat to the Church.

The soft golden glow of a level built around Duncan. Leaving him and all remaining staring in astonishment. I levelled because I diffused a rebellion? But I didn’t even have to kill anyone! He thought. Isn't that how people level? That, and crafting new things? But surely, I crafted nothing!

Leadership has increased to 12

Ability: Inspired Speech learnt at Level 1

Two red banners had appeared before him, and he took the time to read them aloud. He was becoming better at understanding bits of Latin.

He picked it up mostly from Colm, who he would visit every chance he got. The old man was lonely now that both of his apprentices had moved on. But he was knowledgeable about many things. Latin amongst them.

While Colm had an irascible nature, he had a great deal of time for Duncan. They would talk, mostly about Liam and the System for hours. Both missed the young Page a great deal. Lady, almost as if listening in, would whine softly whenever Colm or Duncan mentioned the young noble.

Sir Keith was still looking at Duncan, as were the rest of the party. “I haven’t seen a man speak so well since the Brus demanded the surrender of Stirling Castle.”

Turning to Fergus, he said. “You’re dismissed back to your shepherding, Master Fergus," handing the man two shillings. "Go with the thanks of your Lord. I shall ensure he hears of your desire to serve him upon his return.”

Fergus, now with nearly a month’s pay, and a story that would see him in drink for just as long, made a beeline for the Tavern.

Addressing Duncan once more, Sir Keith asked, “What drove you to speak, boy? That could have gone very wrong, had the Cooper given a more spiteful reply.”

Duncan knew exactly why, not even needing a moment to order his thoughts. “Because these are good people, Sir Keith. I've known them all my life, and they know me. They wouldn’t wish me harm, nor would they do violence unless compelled to! I simply made them question their intent!”

Sir Keith stood, mouth agape. It had been decades since he'd heard those words.

“I heard words similar to that after Sterling Bridge. A group of us - nobles I mean - were standing in a wood, I was but a Page at the time, in the retinue of the Earl of Mar. I remember that there was a man brought forward for his courage in battle that day. A commander of a group of Highlanders. A commoner. He was kneeling before King Robert, although in that time, men called him Lord Annandale.”

Sir Keith smiled at the memory. “The Bruce asked him, ‘Why did you step forward?’ And he replied, just as you did. Then the Bruce knighted him on the spot. I later became that man’s Squire.”

The elderly knight did not elaborate on who this man was, but a fire of life and ferocity burned deep in the eyes that looked at Duncan once more.

“Well done. We shall go to the bakery and retrieve my armsman. From there you will attend me at the keep. I am making you my servant. Your first duty shall be to keep the peace in the town. You are no longer the Baker’s boy, but a man in service to the Lord of Douglas.” Sir Keith said.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Duncan could barely contain his excitement. Lady, sensing it, leapt upon him. “May I bring the dog, Sir Keith?” Duncan asked, becoming worried.

“You may. It shall do the men good to have a hound about that will not bite as soon as look at a hand.” Sir Keith considered. “If it becomes unruly, we shall have to set it out, however. The same if Lord Douglas does not want the pooch about.”

Duncan nodded. There was no chance he would ever allow Lady to be thrown out of the Keep. where she went, so did he!

************************

Reaching the bakery, the sight of his father and mother greeted Duncan. They were helping the wounded guard to his feet. The man had regained consciousness, although was still badly hurt. His face swollen from multiple blows.

"Sir Keith." The man lisped the words through lips thick with bruising. "I'm sorry I didn't reach the Keep. Did you put down the rebellion?" He asked.

"There was none, Colin. Thanks to Duncan here."

The Baker overheard. "What did you do, boy?" He yelled. "Were you consorting with Rebels?" He moved to grab Duncan, but Sir Keith stood in his way.

"Peace Master Baker. He did no wrong, and a great deal of good!" He said. "He stopped things from coming to more violence."

Sir Keith put a hand on Duncan's shoulder. "I've taken him into service." He said. "I don't need your permission to do so, but I ask it anyway!" The knight said, addressing Duncan's father.

His father still cast hard eyes at Duncan, but he nodded. "Aye. But if he causes you trouble, you send him to me!"

Duncan's mother, who had overheard, rushed to her son, hugging him tightly. "Well done lad!" Ignoring her husband's scowl. "You do what the good knight tells you!" She fussed over him briefly before Duncan's father pulled her away.

"None of that now, Jane. He's a man, or will be by the time Sir Keith is done with him."

Sir Keith ignored the couple, turning once more to his injured guard. "Did ye see who beat you?" He asked.

The man nodded. "Aye. One of them." he said. "They came at me from behind, just near the tavern. I turned and saw a man. He isn't from the town."

"Sir Keith," the man continued, his breathing laboured, "it doesn't fit well. As they beat me, they told me of their plans. They said there were more men coming from the South and that they'd do for us all soon. I do not know why they dinnae kill me! Why tell me and leave me alive?"

Sir Keith looked up at the Keep sharply. "Go get Master Colm, and tell him to bring his bow!" He told Duncan sharply. "Get him to the keep. Tell him he's being called back to serve his Lord. The Keep is about to be attacked! Get him to bring any others in the town he is certain are Loyal to the lord."

The Baker, hearing this, stepped forward. "I'll join ye!" he said. "I'll do what needs to defend the Keep, and my home.".

Behind him, Duncan's mother covered her mouth with a hand, realizing that the town was soon to be attacked. She ran inside the Bakery, gathering what tools she could, as well as Duncan's infant sister.

"Aye, Keiran." Sir Keith said. "You too."

"If there are any you know with certainty will fight for the Douglas, bring them to the Keep. Have your wife head there now and tell the guard to call the men to the gate and bar it. I shall gather what men we can and head to the Keep."

He turned, seeing Duncan was still standing there. "Off wi'ye!" Shooing him. "We dinnae have much time!"

Duncan sprinted through the town. Some townsmen who'd joined the priest earlier to confront Sir Keith looked at him in confusion as he sprinted out of the Town towards the Carpentry. Lady was hot on his heels, and her barking announced his arrival at the workshop.

Colm was testing the draw of a new bow. A set of stone weights hanging from a wooden grip which held the string of the bow. He looked at the weights and measured the draw distance with a full length arrow.

"Master Colm!" Duncan took a moment to catch his breath. "It's an attack! Sir Keith has told me to bring you to the keep, along with any men you know to be loyal to the Laird!"

"What's this?" Colm said, putting the arrow down. "What attack? The Laird only left yesterday. Surely he would have heard something!"

"Someone attacked the guard in the town last night. I found him this morning, unconscious and badly hurt!" Duncan explained. "When I went to the Keep to fetch the Seneschal, we came back to fetch him, but a large mob was rebelling! And then I told them off, and then they left." The story becoming a breathless recollection of events from that morning.

The carpenter sighed. "Wait here!"

He walked over to the ladder up to the workshop’s loft. It was where Liam had slept while still an apprentice. The boy had been polite, never nosy about Colm's past, and so the Master Carpenter had stored many useless things up there.

Colm moved to the back of the space, his heavy form making the wooden planks underfoot creak with strain. He knelt before a heavy chest. Iron chasings had once bound the chest, but he'd sold those long ago for some easy coin. He opened it, the aged hinges creaking. Reaching within he pulled out a gambeson and coif.

He set these aside, reaching in once more and his hand grasped the familiar weight of a sword. It had served him well for years, and he was loath to enter another battle without its comfort at his hip. Finally, he pulled out the chain-mail. It had corroded slightly, but was still functional.

Finally, he pulled out an empty hip quiver and four bags of twenty arrows. Each of them he'd crafted on the journey back to Douglas from France. Each was straight and true. He paused, looking at the insignia on the gambeson. The Fleur de Lys stood proudly on the breast.

He patted it, then stood. Gathering the items, he called Duncan over.

The weight of the items shocked Duncan as Colm dropped them to him. The Master Carpenter did not make the boy attempt to catch the sword, nor the mail, both being far too heavy for him to manage. As he reached the bottom of the ladder, he turned to see the lad admiring the handle of the blade.

"I dinnae ken you were a soldier, sir!" Duncan said.

"Aye. I didn't start as one, nor shall I - God willing - end as one." The gruff carpenter taking a moment to cross himself as he spoke.

"I served in the first company Scots archers sent to the King of France's army. We fought for the bastard for eight years until he made peace with the English. Eight years of fighting for a King not my own, and he betrayed us in the end."

"Liam's father found me drunk in Berwick in '04. I wasn't a good man then. Just a bitter one. He helped me, and discovering I was a carpenter sent me to Lord James. I fought with him for ten years. Bishop Lamberton was a man of great foresight. I think he knew that the Laird and I would have a need of each-other one day."

"Come, lad!" He beckoned Duncan follow him. "If there is strife coming to Douglas, we must get to the Keep and prepare."

"We'll head past the Tavern. The tavern keeper wouldn't lift a finger to help a drowning child, but his sons are good men, and they've raided South before."

They left the carpentry together, Colm now having donned his gambeson and mail. His sword now hung by his side. The carpenter had strung the old bow, carrying it in one hand. A bag of arrows bumping against his sword were in easy reach of his other.

They’d only reached the end of the path out of the Carpentry when Colm stopped him.

Duncan looked ahead.

In the distance, he could see smoke rising from one of the far off farms held by a tenant of Lord James.

The Church bell rang, but just as quickly stopped. The ringing had not been in alarm, but the gentle chimes of a call to mass.

Then it rang again, more loudly, this time warning all the people of Douglas to gather at the Keep.

Douglas was under attack!

Duncan broke into a run for the Keep, Lady and Colm hot on his heels. As they reached the Church, they saw an armoured man dragging the protesting Father Doreen from the church. It was one of Lord Douglas' guards.

“Nonsense!” the priest cried. “There is no attack! Let me go!”

The soldier turned to look at something on the ridge above the town. Distracted, he didn’t see the priest strike.

The Priest turned, and pulling a knife from a sheath hidden within his robes, plunged it into the chest of the Guardsman. Colm saw this and roared with anger. He drew back his bowstring in an instant, arrow nocked.

He let fly, just as Duncan pushed his arm aside.

The arrow flew past the Priest, catching his cheek and drawing a line of blood. The Priest, unharmed but for the superficial wound glared at Duncan and, clutching his face, sprinted towards the ridgeline.

"What the hells did you do that for?" Colm roared in Duncan's face, causing Lady to growl at him.

"He's a Priest!" Duncan said, shocked that Colm was so angry. “You can’t kill priests!” Everyone knew that to kill a priest was to guarantee eternal damnation, regardless of what that priest had done.

"I've killed Priests before!" He yelled, "And that bastard needed the killing!"

Duncan stood open-mouthed. He’d seen the priest stab the guard too, but…

He’s a priest. He shouldn’t have stabbed one of his flock! What in Hells was going on? Duncan thought, trying to overcome the dissonance of the situation he'd just encountered.

“Never mind now. We need to get the gates closed, and as many people inside as we can manage!” Colm turned, running to the fallen guard, Duncan and Lady following close behind. The man was sitting up, rubbing at a spot on the mail hauberk where the knife had stuck. A small amount of blood was on his fingers. Lady gave the man a cautious sniff, sitting between the guard and Duncan.

"Are you badly injured?" Duncan asked. Stepping past Lady, both Duncan and Colm helped the man to his feet. Around them, townsfolk were flocking up the road into the keep, but far more were running towards the forest.

Duncan understood. With the Lord gone, any attack would have a greater chance to succeed, and sieges were a terrible place for civilians. It was far better for most to stay in the forest and seek refuge with a neighboring Lord.

The guardsman smiled."It barely broke the skin. The bugger was using a seax! I haven't seen one of those ancient things since my great grandfather found his great-sire's knife."

Duncan knew little about knives, but he assumed the guard meant a broad tipped blade that wouldn't puncture well. By the lack of damage, the chain had stopped nearly all the blow's force.

"Get into the keep!" Colm ordered the man. "We'll have plenty of time to prattle on about knives when they lay siege to the walls!" He gestured to the ridgeline. The priest was just cresting the top when he stopped and started waving his arms at the Keep. A line of men had appeared before him. Their mail glinting in the summer light.

Duncan saw them, and his hopes for an easy victory died. There were at least a hundred men there, maybe more.

Far too many for the remaining garrison to hold off indefinitely. At least without some aid.

Duncan spotted the tavern keeper ahead with his sons. It seemed they headed for the Keep, after all. He supposed it was a good thing.

The guard followed them to the gate of the curtain wall and thanked them for a final time before heading to the ramparts. Colm followed him while Duncan took a moment to look about the interior of the Keep's curtain walls for the first time.

The space was enormous, over thirty yards between the walls and the Keep. A stable stood proud to the wall, its roof sloping gently to allow the rain to run from the wall and onto the hard-packed dirt of the keep's grounds. A small garden full of what looked like vegetables grew to one side. Lady licked at his hand, bringing his attention back to the present.

He tried to find Sir Keith amongst the crowd of townsfolk. They were milling about, trying to work out what was happening. Behind him, townsfolk helped guards close the two thick oak gates. As they closed with a boom, the defenders jammed the locking bar in place. Two guards then began wedging logs to buttress the doors from impact.

This done, they too ran for the ramparts. Duncan followed.

As he reached the walls, he saw men kicking in doors of homes within the town. They were searching for loot or women. The guardsmen on the wall stood calmly watching. Duncan spotted Sir Keith with them, but didn't approach his new master.

He hadn't noticed in all the excitement, but Colm had moved over next to him. "We're waiting for them to group up!" He said. "No need to waste arrows on single targets!"

A crossbow bolt flashed up at them, spanging off a crenelation. "COVER!" Sir Keith roared, and the men moved to positions behind the crenelations, ducking low to avoid any chance of enfilading shots striking them.

Duncan too moved low, and Lady gave him a reassuring Lick. "Good Girl" Duncan said. "We're safe up here!"

Another bolt clanged off the ramparts. Sir Keith had not moved when he gave the order to find cover. Rather, he'd raised his shield and looked over it into the town. Satisfied. He called out softly. "Nock!" The men, arrows already drawn from quiver bags, they placed them on the string. "In your own time, there is a group of the buggers just outside the Church!" The knight said. "I'll see the Lord reward you if your shot strikes true!"

He waited a moment, sighting over the battlements. "Now! Draw and Loose!"

The eleven men of the garrison, including Colm, drew back their bows as they stood, and leaning between the Crenels, they loosed their shots. Duncan had stood too, and watched as thick arrows lanced through chain armour and deep into the flesh beneath. The group stood about seventy yards away, and only two arrows missed their mark. One because it struck a helm and bounced off, the other because the bowstring broke.

Outside the church, six men lay riddled with arrows. Some shafts had passed clean through one man and into the flesh of another.

They killed four men outright, while another two screamed for mercy from beneath the corpses of their deceased comrades.

Several men with shields ran up and dragged the wounded men away. One had to be cut free from the piled dead, an arrow having joined him to one of the bodies, the force of the dart had punctured clean through his now deceased fellow.

“Comyn's men,” Sir Keith spat. "I'd bet money they're the bastards who ambushed the Lord and Lady in the wood!"

He leant over the battlements. "I know ye buggers. Comyn's dead. Give up and we shan't ride out and gut ye!"

A voice answered from below. "My uncles may be dead, Red Keith! But so shall you be soon! That I swear. Do I have your word for truce while we speak?"

Duncan looked out and spotted a helmeted man in the town’s roadway. He stood without weapons, holding only a white banner. The sign for parley.

The man wore a fine set of chain-mail, over which he wore a red tabard of strange design. It displayed three golden sheaves of wheat in a triangular formation across his chest.

"Aye, you do! So who are you to claim kinship with those bastards?" Sir Keith replied.

The man removed his helmet, certain now that no shots would come from the walls. Not now the truce stood guaranteed.

The man was no man at all, but a boy around Duncan's age. He was far taller and broad across the shoulders than Duncan, however. "My name is Adumar Comyn." He said proudly.

Sir Keith looked startled. "How do I know what you say is true?" He called back. "The lady you claim to be your mother swore to God that you died an infant!"

"Aye, and she was right!" Adumer said ominously. "I died. I stopped breathing for over two minutes as a bairn. My body was stiff as ice and my mother was so horrified she dropped me on the floor. It was then God granted me a second chance." He said.

"Well, so what do you want from Lord Douglas?" Sir Keith asked.

"Nothing, but his oath of fealty!" Adumer replied, fidgeting with a tassel of fine cloth upon his tabard. "And not for me, but for King Balliol! The true king of Scotland!"

Sir Keith laughed at that. "Balliol the Empty Coat? Is he now back from the grave also? Or do you mean his bairn, the one the coward named after the English King, Edward?"

"King John was no coward, and aye, I mean Edward Balliol, King of Scotland." Adumer replied.

"Well, Lord Douglas is not within the keep. So if you seek fealty, you'd best ride north to meet the Lord at King Robert's court."

"Perhaps I shall, once I have slighted this keep. The King wishes for all the traitor's friends lands to be harrowed. Surrender now and I shall spare the townsfolk!"

"No surrender for myself or my men?" Sir Keith frowned. "You make my refusal too easy!"

"It is not your cooperation I seek Red Keith. Only your death, and that of your Lord."

With that, the arrogant young noble turned away. As he strode out of sight, Duncan watched men set the town ablaze. Smoke wafted up, drifting lazily into the air as the town of Douglas burned.

A notification appeared before Duncan's eyes.

Event Started:

Main Quest: Defeat the besieging faction.

Enemy Force: Adumar Comyn's Company.

Secondary Quest: Survive.

Time Limit: 30 days (based on food supply).

Bonus Quest: Ensure the survival of 50% of the townsfolk within the keep.

Rewards: 5000 Tribulation experience on completion of main quest.

2500 Tribulation experience on completion of secondary quest.

100 Tribulation experience per surviving member if over 50% of townsfolk survive.

Individual reward: Item granted.

Item will be selected by System assessment of the most used skill and attribute during event.

May God have mercy on your souls.

Suddenly screams echoed throughout the courtyard of the keep, and Duncan and the other men on the walls spun. About twenty men had climbed over the walls behind the keep, and were now hacking and stabbing anyone in their path. The townsfolk met them in a desperate defence.

It was a one-sided combat; the attackers were armoured and trained.

Colm and the guards upon the battlements wasted no time, nocking arrow after arrow to their bowstrings, letting them fly to strike powerfully through shields and mail. Soon, only a few of the raiders remained, and were slowly overcome by the enraged townsfolk.

Duncan had run around the battlements, seeking to find whatever tools they had used to climb the walls, Lady beside him. He couldn't see anyone upon the walls, but they must have used a ladder or rope.

As he reached the other side of the curtain wall, he saw a grapple scraping across the stone. He glanced over the wall into the face of an armoured man, heaving himself up the rope.

Duncan, having no means to cut the hemp cord, simply waited for the man to come close. Standing on the battlements, he delivered a mighty kick to the man's face as it came into range.

Tired from the climb, the man didn't bother to dodge, but simply let go of the rope to catch the stone ramparts. His hands were sure, but Duncan's kick connected. Once, twice, three times.

Infuriatingly, the man would not let go. Lady however tipped the balance. Sniffing out his grip, she sunk her teeth into the man's wrist, forcing him to release his hold. He fell back, dropping onto the man following him, and causing a cascade of bodies to tumble to the stones outside the wall.

Duncan grabbed the grapple and pulled it up. There was no point in throwing it down. The enemy force would simply use again it.

He'd glowed with a level, but he had no time to deal with attributes for now. Lady was whining too, and as much as he wished he could see to her, time was off the essence.

He looked around to see what was troubling her and saw a man climbing onto the battlements from a second grapple.

Thinking quickly, Duncan grabbed the hook of the grapple he'd recently pulled up, and charged the man, slamming into him, shoulder first. He slammed the hook into the back of the man’s head, catching in the chain-mail of his coif.

The return blow with the pommel of the man’s sword caused his world to explode into a tableau of sparks as a pain unlike anything he'd felt before shot through his body.

Duncan dropped to the ground, completely defenceless. The man-at-arms drew back a boot to stamp the boy's head into paste when a black and white blur of motion caused him to spin about. Teeth clamped over his face and bit down, shaking furiously. Blood sprayed out of the man's coif as the pressure increased. The teeth chomped down again and again, each time followed by a shaking movement that opened the wounds up.

Screaming in terror and pain, the man flailed his arms uselessly at his assailant. His eyes punctured by inch long canines. The monster changed its approach, attacking his neck now, nuzzling under the chain coif to rend and tear at the flesh there. Soon, the soldier's movements stilled.

Duncan had sat up to see Lady savaging the man who struck him. She'd grown in size considerably and now glowed once more with the light of a level. The border-collie grew again.

This morning, his dog had only reached the top of his knees. Now she rose to his hip. Each of her canines was two inches long now, and razor sharp.

The glow of the level had cleaned her, so he gladly accepted the much larger tongue’s attention as she licked his face. He wrapped his arms around her in thanks and got to his feet. She helped him, pushing him up with her nose.

Unsteadily, Duncan reached the next grapple. Seeing another man climbing, he walked over to the mauled soldier and picked up his sword.

This time Duncan did not bother trying to fight the man, he simply placed the sharp edge of the sword beneath the grapples rope and lifted while pulling the blade towards himself.

The fibers of the rope parted with a snap and the men holding it fell to the ground below. The fall was a good ten yards on this side of the keep. Duncan was not at all surprised when he once more glowed with a level.

Looking about, he could see that the Guardsmen had once more regained control of the grounds and were now patrolling the walls on all sides of the curtain wall. Several townsfolk also stood watch, including the Tavern Keeper and his sons.

Colm approached. His eyes widening as he saw the transformation Lady had gone through. "My God lad! Your doggie can level too?" he said, his soft Connachta accent lilting as he asked the question.

Duncan was too tired to answer, and just nodded dumbly. He hadn't expected that fighting to be so hard.

Colm put a hand on his shoulder. "You should get some rest lad." he said. "This fight won't be over soon!"