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Sir Gust De Weer,
Raven of Dawn
Sheep, Dogs & Tyeusfort
Part I
-I couldn’t do that either-
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> City of Scaldingport
>
> First month of fall, year of the New Calendar 181,
>
> Third into the reign of Antoon the Second
>
> The funeral day of Lady Danika Van Oord, late Duchess of Scaldingport
>
> Evening supper.
>
>
>
> One could barely breathe inside Blackcrow’s Hall, the extra candles providing more smoke than illumination. The dark walls oppressing, the shields and banners difficult to discern, distorted and alien. Gust could see his father’s throne stood empty. The Hall’s tables though had some notable guests.
>
> Lord Sigurd was there, along his brother Floris the mayor of Colle. Sir Stans Reuten, with Lady Petra and their kids. The seventeen year old Jan and the young naughty twins Femke and Sonja. They were playing with the young Mona Bach, Floris daughter, her big brothers and knights Ron and Teun watching them smiling from their table. Their mother Lady Lissane Reuten, Sir Reuten’s younger sister and Floris’ wife also missing. The priest of Tyeus Sir Mael Bolte, the only person standing gloomy by himself, his plate and goblet untouched, though whether it was to pay homage to the departed, or due to his known austere character Gust couldn’t tell.
>
> “Sir Gust,” Mael said simply. “Rik and Janneke are still in the crypt?”
>
> “They just retired,” Gust grunted, eyeing the two smirking knights and the more guarded Jan.
>
> “My condolences Sir Gust,” his father Sir Stans told him and his wife nodded along.
>
> “A terrible thing. What madness—?” Mayor Floris commented, but his brother Sigurd stopped him with a gesture of frustration.
>
> “Know you have a friend in Colle Sir Gust,” Baron Bach said quickly, his thinning white hair making him appear older than his years. “We share a border and a mountain. At these trying times we stand together.”
>
> Mountain and border ever moving and disputed, since Sigurd had gotten the young High King to increase Colle’s hunting territory. Their visit initially political to discuss it with his livid father, but they had stayed more due to the unforeseen tragedy.
>
> Gust grunted not really in the mood to talk about it.
>
> “Lord De Weer?” He asked hoarsely, with another glance at the empty throne.
>
> Sigurd shrugged his shoulders, his brother staring at his plate of honeyed potatoes with great interest.
>
> “He barely had a cup,” Sir Reuten informed him earnestly. “He left us immediately young Lord. One wants to stay with our loved ones as much as one can. It is not easy to say goodbye.”
>
> “Hmm,” Gust grunted, who knew Lord Ruud hadn’t come down the crypt to visit his mother. He gave a nod to his father’s guests and made to walk towards the door leading upstairs. To the Lord of Scaldingport’s quarters.
>
> Ron Bach stood up from the next table to bar his way three strides later. His brother smiling from his chair.
>
> “A toast Gust,” Ron said lifting a goblet. “To Lady Danika. May she find peace and bliss, gods know she deserved more.”
>
> Than what she’d received whilst amongst the living was his meaning.
>
> His mother’s pale blue eyes staring back at him on the older knight’s face, Lord Ruud’s mouth smirking pleased with himself.
>
> Gust grimaced, a vein throbbing on his forehead and Sir Mael got up abruptly, his sword’s ivory handle banging on the table’s edge, the cups rattling.
>
> “Apologize to Sir Gust!” Floris barked to his ‘son’. Everyone knew Ron and Teun were Ruud’s bastards. The old lord probably fucking Floris’ ‘conveniently missing’ wife upstairs even as we speak.
>
> Sir Ron crooked his mouth, stared at his goblet and made to smash it on Gust’s head, the flat of Sir Mael’s drawn blade slapping it away from his hand and on to the wall. The bang reverberating inside the smoky, badly lit hall. The crows up on their window waking up agitated and protesting with loud caws.
>
> “ENOUGH!” Bugs barked from its own spot, putting a stop to their bickering, the large Raven sounding furious.
>
> “You heard the raven,” Sir Mael told Ron, touch of steel in his voice, but looking at the snarling Gust. “This is a mourning supper and we’re all knights’ lads. We behave appropriately is my meaning.”
>
> “Step out of the way Sir Bolte,” Gust growled hoarsely.
>
> The veteran knight glared at him. “Anger makes men stupid,” Sir Mael Bolte cautioned like he always did before beating Gust silly with the training stick to make him change his frantic approach to sword-fighting. “There’s water in the barrel outside. Go use it.”
>
> Sir Ron made to chuckle, but Mael’s blade parked under his chin and put a stop to that.
>
> “It is time to go to bed son. You’ve had enough cups,” he told him sternly. “Take your brother with you. He’s about to make a fool of himself.”
>
> “I did nothing Sir Bolte,” Ron protested and backed away. A younger Mael turned and stared at the still furious Gust.
>
> “It’s handled,” he had told him. “Go and straighten your head out.”
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Gust stared at the old ivory handle. A crow’s head sculpted on the pommel, the engravings on its grip worn out from use and time. Mael had wrapped a thin leather strip around it carefully, the knot darkened with old blood.
He heard the crack of a twig snapping and twisted around, but an older Sir Jan’s calm voice reached his ears, before his eyes got used to the light coming through the foliage. The small pond behind the Black Market had slowly created a small copse inside the rather dry terrain of the city, Gust frequently used to get the sweat off his body and calm himself down.
“That’s far enough,” Sir Jan had told a scared Solt, the Cofol boy carrying Gust’s shirt and gambeson. Klaas following behind him with his armour. He had everything repaired after the wear and tear of months in the desert. “Don’t approach Sir Gust when he has his back turned boy,” the knight from Colle cautioned his young squire. Jan had gotten his lesson learned, although much of Gust’s initial animosity towards him was for different reasons. Sir Jan wasn’t his wayward aunt though and he had proven himself time and time again during the years campaigning with Gust on Eplas.
The street urchin he’d saved back at Devil’s Cove nodded his eyes on Gust’s impressive physique and Mael’s naked sword. Relaxing in the pond out of his armour didn’t mean Gust was unarmed.
“It’s fine, just don’t make a habit out of it,” Gust told Solt and tossed the sword to a startled by his retort Sir Jan. The knight snatched it by the handle with his left hand expertly just the same and turned it this way and that.
“Is it imperial steel?” Jan asked checking the blade’s balance. “I swear I remember this blade for years. Never seen him sharpen it.”
“He did. All blades need care,” Gust replied hoarsely and stepped into the market’s cobblestone to take the shirt, soles under his naked feet hurting when they touched the burning crushed stones. Gust was half a head taller than Sir Jan Reuten, despite the latter standing just under six feet, but it was the muscles Gust carried on his dark-skinned body that drew the stares of the colorful pirate crowd roaming the market stands nearby. Cofols and even a couple of Issirs amongst them. Standing next to a gawking his way Mutiny Carter, the Princess of Kaltha herself, dressed much like the pirate wench and sporting the same stunned expression.
Gust frowned and Mutiny winked at him suggestively.
“Just put the shirt on,” Sir Jan suggested with the hint of a smile. “You’ll raise the bar too blasted high for the rest of us my lord.”
Gust narrowed his eyes and slipped the shirt on, the sun burning his skin already. Even early spring time in Eikenport was hotter than the warmest summers of Scaldingport. While the winter had been busy for everyone, the city still bore the marks of the fire that had ravaged its innards. The rebuilding efforts admittedly impressive especially when trade with Goras had opened up.
“You associate yourself with the pirates Reuten?” he grunted hoarsely.
“Allgods De Weer,” came Sir Jan’s amused retort. “I ain’t about to pick a partner out of their lot, but this is a city and these are real women. Not to mention we’re surrounded by them pirates.”
“Isn’t this how it starts?” Gust queried and stared at the heavy gambeson unsure.
“Just put the boots on my lord. Don’t overthink it,” Sir Jan urged him. “I’m hungry. And I don’t really mind. I’ve sort of convinced myself we aren’t returning to Jelin. Eikenport is the best we’re gonna get.”
“We are serving the future Queen. So we are going back. I’m pretty sure there is plenty of luster and lofty honors in your future, so ye better keep it in your pants. We can’t behave like fools,” Gust scolded him, an eye on the two women quarreling all fired up like young sailors. Elsanne was furious as a matter of fact.
“Go rebels,” Sir Jan teased raising a fist. “I bet they’ll welcome us with open arms in Issir’s Eagle, then chop our heads off promptly,” he shook his head afore asking casually. “Garth’s or Burton’s tavern?”
“What’s the difference?” Gust grunted and grabbed the gambeson from Solt to put it on, a sweaty Klaas waiting patiently with his armour.
“Well, Garth’s District has the classier taverns and mercenaries, but Burton is where our Princess spends her time.”
“Hmm.”
“Burton’s it is,” Sir Jan murmured with a sigh. “That scumbag is pissing in our drinks I’m telling you. All them Lesia crooks are willing to risk our lives to line their pockets.”
“Don’t drink his rum,” Gust retorted and stooped to wear his boots, before his feet got cooked on the scalding cobblestone.
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“What will it be this time good knights?” ‘Bald’ Burton asked them when they got their table in the corner next to an open window. Antonia the tavern wench grinning from her spot at the counter.
“You have anything other than yellowfin tuna?” Sir Jan asked sitting down, grimacing at the chair creaking when Gust did the same across from him.
“Or lamb,” Gust added, his eyes on the pirates gathered around Elsanne’s stool at the tavern’s counter.
“It’s tuna season,” Burton retorted much as he always did with an expensive smile. The amount of gold in his mouth impressive. The season was apparently never ending in Eikenport. “I have steak, ribs also.”
“Pork?” Sir Jan probed hopefully.
“Lamb,” Burton deadpanned. “And camel.”
“You butchered a camel?” the knight guffawed.
“It died on its own. Twas a suicide. Merchant left it on its lonesome, the poor animal was overcome with grief and slit its own throat,” the tavern owner replied grinning. “Most people enjoyed it with a cup of rum to celebrate its life.”
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Ugh.
His stories kept getting better to compensate for the lack of variety in his ‘tavern’.
“Bring us those steaks, no rum,” Gust grunted, grimacing at the familiarity the patrons showed to the Princess. Elsanne is insanely popular with the crews there’s was no denying that, he thought.
“Robert retreated to Tirifort,” Jan told him the moment Burton left their table. “But the Prince didn’t take the bait.”
“Still lingers around Radin’s Depot?” Gust asked.
“Yeah. He’s much better supplied than our lads.”
“He’s waiting for reinforcements,” Gust mused. “We need to get moving Reuten.”
“You think Robert will answer?”
“I don’t know. What does Sir Pek think? You befriended the man.”
“Robert looks to secure the baronship.”
“He won’t secure anything fighting for the other side. They have a man on his father’s seat already.”
“Either way he’s trapped. Can’t advance, but he also can’t retreat, or look weak to the lads back on Jelin,” Sir Jan replied.
“The Prince is the one trapped, if we manage to move up the road and threaten Tyeusfort,” Gust reminded him.
“How are you going to convince them? Because we need help. You don’t have the men my lord.”
Gust stared at the colorful pirate crowd. Their fleet had left after a couple of months, but a lot of civilians had returned from Lord’s Burrow in the time that had passed since then and there was a rumor Goras was sending back those big ships Elsanne had gifted them full of timber. Eikenport could turn into a very big city soon, he thought.
“Elsanne wants to move on Dia,” he murmured, pausing to stare at the Princess, until Jan tapped his foot under the table to get him going again.
“You’re slipping De Weer and people might notice,” Sir Jan said. “No wonder you can’t get a word in with her all this time.”
“Are ye looking to get your teeth smashed in Reuten?” Gust said with a snarl.
“How did Sir Mael do it?” the knight asked shaking his head. “Calm you down that is my lord.”
Gust grimaced. “He used a stick and then dunked me in a barrel, until he couldn’t. First time I floored him, the old bastard stopped. Guess I respected him enough to listen to his counsel afterwards.”
“Fantastic. I ain’t risking that,” Sir Jan admitted with a frown. “Still, moving on Dia only helps the mysterious lad in Goras. We have crows serving with Robert in Tirifort.”
“You’re not a crow,” Gust retorted still miffed by his earlier comment. “Else you’ll knew we are very patient and enduring.”
“No you’re not,” Sir Jan grunted in his turn. “You just don’t have the heart to leave her… eh, and at some point you got to let the past go my lord.”
“Is that what you would do? I don’t like double talk Reuten,” Gust growled, his face flushed with anger.
“No double talk,” the knight retorted, just as Antonia approached with their platers and drinks. “Each time and each thing are different was my meaning.”
“How are yer cousins?” Gust asked staring at his plate with a scowl.
“Teun is with the Royal Guard. Sir Ron retired after that tourney in Caspo O’ Bor. Took over as Mayor when Lord Bach’s brother died five years ago.”
“Meant to kick him in the gut,” Gust admitted reminiscing. “I slipped in the mud.”
“Right. He had yielded the duel,” Jan commented with a grimace.
“There’s no such thing,” Gust retorted. “You stand against a man armed, you have to be prepared to lose something. Else you are a fraidy-cunt.”
“It was a tourney.”
“Which is why he still lives with a slight limp.”
Never to ride a horse again.
Jan rolled his eyes and watched him reaching for a rib.
“These are the meatiest cuts Sir Gust,” Antonia beamed still lingering. The Lorian girl had put in some effort on their meal this time.
“Must’ve been a skinny ram,” Gust grunted, crunching on the bone to get something out of the bite.
“Good grief. He means it is excellent lass,” Sir Jan intervened with a flirting smile. Gust thought he looked ridiculous and considered punching him in the face to get his brains unscrambled. “My compliments to the chef.”
“Ha-ha, no chef or such in here,” she replied honestly with a comely blush. “I made it meself.”
“Why, I’m impressed Antonia,” Sir Jan replied looking at her intently and Gust almost groaned in frustration, when the flirting knight added lowering his voice like a seasoned thespian. “Thoroughly.”
Antonia would have lingered longer but a glance at Sir Gust grinding his teeth and fuming on his seat sent her running back behind her counter.
“I think—” Jan tried to say.
Gust stopped him with a glare.
“We need to get the Dogs involved,” he grunted.
Jan nodded. “Mercenaries need coin to move their feet my lord.”
“Ruud can’t spare any,” Gust said, grinding down the thin bones audibly. The taste decent at least. “Anker is breathing down his neck and Rik is vacationing in Regia.”
“Helping King Jeremy,” Jan said. “There’s a mess there.”
“Eh, not our mess. Scaldingport needs to focus on our own matters.”
“Your sister—”
“It ain’t about my sister,” Gust stopped him. “Ruud wants to block Anker from imposing his will. A couple of cities and lords won’t do it, but Regia will.”
“Unless the Lakelords backstab him,” Jan replied.
“The Crabs are in bed with Janos.”
“What about Van Calcar? Robert’s sister is in his court allegedly.”
“You can’t trust him. I don’t think Robert is happy about Aafke,” Gust retorted.
“Better the ‘Wolffish’ than that old sack of shit Janos,” Jan added and they both paused unsure about it.
“Set a meeting with Martel,” Gust said a moment later. “I’ll talk with… the Princess.”
“She’s over there,” Jan replied with a grin.
“I’ll sent a runner later,” Gust said with a grunt. “When she’s less busy,” Elsanne's heartfelt chuckle getting on his nerves, his appetite ruined.
Although admittedly he’d wolfed down his plate clean whilst talking, bones and all.
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Gust returned to the tavern two hours later, the afternoon sun less harsh and riding his horse into the stable. He left Klaas to guard it not trusting the shifty stable master of sorts and marched down the street and into Burton’s tavern.
An amused Burton eyed him approaching the counter, dark grey plate gleaming well-oiled and sword sheath clanging on his waist.
“I have a meeting with the Princess,” Gust announced briskly and glanced at the first floor of the tavern Elsanne had turned into her quarters. The eunuch Jasi loitering at the internal balcony’s rails his painted eyes on him.
“Want to leave yer sword?” Burton asked, moving a toothpick from once side of his mouth to the other.
“No,” Gust grunted.
“It wasn’t a request Sir Knight,” the pirate warned him, a couple of cutthroats standing up from their table.
“Still,” Gust retorted, clenching his jaw. “The answer remains the same.”
“She’s expecting him,” Jasi told Burton from above.
“You are making everyone uncomfortable Sir Gust,” Burton told him. “The other knights are more pleasant to be around.”
Gust grunted not bothering to answer and climbed the staircase, his boots thundering on the steps.
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“Sir Gust De Weer, of Scaldingport,” Jasi announced and Elsanne raised her head from the desk, still in her pants, a silk white shirt under her leather bust, its top buttons open so she could breathe.
“I know Sir Gust for well over a decade Jasi. He needs no introduction,” she replied a hint of nervousness in her voice. Her accent slowly taking bits and pieces from her long stay on Eplas. A hint of Cofol, a bit of Lesia and even some of the more colorful pirates jargon.
But she could switch to formal Common in the blink of an eye. Elsanne was almost twenty now, a far cry from the aloof girl she once had been. Then again Gust’s ability to judge her character and wants always hit a wall, afore failing.
The fact he was there to argue against her wishes –again- not lost on the equally nervous knight.
“I shall be outside,” Jasi said looking at him. If it was a warning to behave, then it was a foolish attempt. Gust could overcome the eunuch with an arm tied behind his back, using only his index finger.
“Will you take a seat?” Elsanne asked him. “It’s a sturdy chair and it’ll strain my neck looking up.”
The small joke flying over Gust’s head.
Gust stared at the chair in front of her desk unsure.
“It was a jest,” Elsanne gasped and made a face. “Ahm, your man said nothing on the reason…” she pushed a white curl behind her shapely ear and Gust felt a vein throbbing on his forehead. He realized he was clenching his fists so hard, the bones were crackling.
He breathed out and relaxed his stance a bit, moving on his feet.
“I hoped… should I take a guess?” The Princess Heiress asked him with a sigh.
Gods dammit! Gust admonished himself. Speak fool!
Lord Ruud’s roaring cackle reverberating inside the walls of his brain.
“We need to help Robert,” he grunted abruptly, sweating down his face.
“Sir Robert wanted to have me killed,” Elsanne reminded him again. “Under orders from Lord Anker. Why should I lift a finger to help him?” she glanced at a map the pirates had ‘freed’ from a merchant showing the east shores of Eplas. “I should use the opportunity to take Dia. I have people there I care about.”
Gust grimaced. “Most of my men are with him Princess,” he managed to say, finding his footing.
“Radin is between us, is he not?”
“Helping him will ensure the safety of Eikenport,” Gust replied. “If he finishes Robert off then the Prince would come here. Taking Dia won’t help us.”
Elsanne stood back thoughtfully. Gust turned to look at the map to avoid staring at her.
“Boys and their friends,” she murmured, forcing him to turn his head her way.
“I ain’t no boy and this isn’t about that,” Gust retorted, his blood boiling. “We need to act afore the Khan gets rid of Anker’s forces up north, or Prince Atpa decides to move from Rida.”
“Am I not your Princess?” Elsanne asked, all flushed.
“Of course,” Gust replied, cursing himself for lashing out.
“The pirates won’t march inland,” Elsanne told him and got up from behind her small desk.
Gust nodded nervously as she approached to stand next to him facing the wall with the painted old map.
Though taller than she was in her youth, the Princess was a small-bodied woman.
“So, I either use them where I can, or risk attacking Radin to help Robert and your men,” she added in a soft murmur.
Dammit, Gust thought, his eyes ogling straight at the map, the lands blurring and unable to concentrate.
While much shorter than him, the grown up Elsanne was still the most beautiful woman in the Realm for Gust. The latter hadn’t changed in all those years.
“We need the crows Princess,” Gust croaked.
“Mmm. My decision stands,” Elsanne said and moved back to her desk. “Will you respect it Sir Gust?”
Gust had trouble breathing, the heavy armour suffocating him.
“Wow,” Elsanne pouted and tipped a fingernail on the desk’s lacquered surface. “You really want to attack Radin so much?”
“I don’t,” Gust replied with a grunt. “You… really need to save the army.”
“This isn’t about you,” Elsanne said looking at him with those jade eyes. Jewels for eyes, the pirates said. Our Anne Burton.
Ugh.
Two women in the same body.
“It isn’t,” Gust admitted furrowing his brows.
Not in that way.
“Why didn’t you fight in my tourney?” she asked him, the query unexpected. Gust stood back unsure.
“What does it matter?”
“Indulge me Sir Gust,” Elsanne retorted showing it bothered her a lot, despite her effort to lessen it with a small smile.
He hated tricky questions.
Ruud would have lied through his teeth, but Gust didn’t want to lie to her.
So he told her the truth.
“That was no way to pick a husband,” he said and used his palm to gather the moisture off his face. “Not for your grace.”
Elsanne had raised her trimmed white eyebrows stunned. She appeared at a loss for words. Eh, Gust thought, you were always going to pick the wrong answer.
“You could’ve come and not participate,” she murmured thoughtfully, looking at her painted white fingernails.
“I couldn’t do that either,” Gust admitted, a little embarrassed at his cowardice.
“Because you were injured,” Elsanne mused, before pausing sensing there was more to it.
Or just plainly reading the answer on his strained face.
Hopefully.
The answer being that Gust couldn’t stand to watch the Princess get taken away by another man.
Not his princess gods darn it!
He just couldn’t.
So Gust had climbed up to the half a ton wild boar’s cave instead and killed the beast dead.