Their trek continues on another gloomy and cold autumn day. The winding road is flanked by the orange and yellowing forest. Leaves are strewn across the road and crunch softly underfoot.
The fall is Abathea's favorite season. She loves and seeks the turning of the trees every year. The faint scents of leaves and the frigid weather bring her a sense of comfort…Cozy one would say. And also Sir Jakob would attempt to acquire a large waterfowl in which they would feast upon. There Abathea could put her cooking skills on full display, an act that would bring joy to Sir Jakob. She has found it a rarity for him to smile, and thus tries and attempts to see him untroubled. His eyes carry within them a heavy burden, and one of which Abathea would wish to see relieved.
“Sire, this is House Talbot territory,” states Wilberht.
“And their allegiance?”
“Unknown Sire.”
Suddenly up ahead of them a man burst forth from the forest. But before he can fully vacate his hiding place, an arrow strikes the tree in front of him thus missing the man by a few mere inches, no doubt from Wilberht's bow. Abathea has always been impressed with the speed of which Wilberht can draw his bow and the accuracy of which follows hence.
Sir Jakob demands, “State your purpose!”
Edwulf remarks retrieving his axe, “Shall I slay him?”
Thus prompts Jakob to hold up a hand, one of which he has learned to be a definite no.
Edwulf sighs, “I thinks he would look better fileted.”
A fearful yet relieved response comes from the man, “Thank the Great Lord of Heaven! A knight! We are in need of aid! My village has come under attack by the horsemen of Lord Kilgar!
Wilberht withdraws his bow. Jakob removes his hand from his greatsword, previously ready to draw it.
Jakob demands, “Of which House are you under?”
“House Talbot,” the man replies. “Of what house are you?” Abathea notices how dirty and torn the man's clothing is. Also the heavy amount of dirt smudged on his face, which almost seems purposeful.
Jakob replies, “It matters not. I understood that House Talbot was neutral.”
“We are Sire, there has been no formal declaration of war. But this has not stopped Kilgar’s Horsemen from harassing my village. They have demanded many Pence to restrain from violating our sanctity.”
“Pence” is the formal currency of the realm, or at least that is what Abathea has come to understand.
“Is Lord Talbot aware of this?” Jakob asks.
“Nay Sire, I was sent to seek his consul.”
“Where is your village?”
“Only a few leagues Sire. The Horsemen guard the roads, they slaughter all who attempt to flee. I had escaped at nightfall by crawling through the underbrush.”
“We will come to your aid,” decrees Sir Jakob.
“OH THANK YOU SIRE!” as he throws himself down in front of Sir Jakob. “We have many Pence for your service.”
“We need not of coin,” states Sir Jakob.
Edwulf cries out, “I share no sentiments!”
Wilberht rebukes, “Silence you mercenary! How dare you dissent our lord!”
The man looks puzzled and confused.
Sir Jakob confesses, “We are in dire need of provisions.”
He replies, “I see Sire, we have plenty in food stores.”
“Good it is arranged. Lead us.”
The party begins to follow the man.
Edwulf remarks with a groan, “I stills thinks he would look better fileted.”
This prompts Abathea to chuckle.
By late morning Sir Jakob and the man, named Lockeer, remained hidden and crouched in a ditch. Lockeer has led them to the place of camp for sentries who guard the road. Four horsemen sit around fire, their horses bound to trees near them.
Sir Jakob has studied them for a time now before returning to the group. He commands, “The way is guarded, we must make quick work of them.” He then orders, “Wilberht ready your bow. Edwulf take the rear.”
“Finally blood!” Edwulf cries.
Sir Jakob then decrees,” Abathea remain hidden.”
Disappointed, she responds, “Yes my Liege.” She was hoping to witness the skirmish first hand.
Jakob then commands, “The attack commences now.”
The horsemen gather around the fire and talk gailey amongst themselves. One man is about to speak when suddenly all air leaves him, an arrow pierces his lung right under the breast plate. He sits gasping for air while his comrades are startled to action. They draw their swords but by then Sir Jakob has rushed forth from the brush. He is quite agile despite the heavy armor he wears. With greatsword already in hand, he swings down on his first opponent. His enemy however, reacted in just enough time to deflect the blade, causing an awful iron grinding. With Sir Jakob's blade now tip end in the ground, his opponent seeks to strike him. But before he can, Sir Jakob smacks him with a gauntleted hand. His opponent reels back but before he can position himself to strike, he is stuck by an arrow to the side. This causes him to drop to the ground mortally wounded.
With Sir Jakob distracted, another Horsemen swipes his sword at him, but Sir Jakob is able to deflect it causing the blade to run down harmlessly on the side of his armor with a metallic screech. Sir Jakob thrust his shoulder into the man causing him to stumble. With this opening Sir Jakob stabs his blade deep into the abdomen of the man, who looks at his wound in terror and agony.
By now Edwulf has joined the battle, welding high above him a two bladed two handed battle axe. He whoopes battle cries which startles the remaining two enemies. Before one horseman can react, Edwulf has already plunged the blade of his axe deep within the chest of the horseman. The man gasps as all air escapes him. Edwulf kicks him off of his bloodied blade.
The sight of this frightened the final horseman causing him to withdraw in terror. Edwulf goes to charge the man with his battle axe. But before he can swing, the horsemen is felled by an arrow to the skull.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
This prompts and angered Edwulf to cry out, “Bastard Ranger!”
Abathea soon joins the end of the conflict, just enough time to witness one Sir Jakob’s many rituals.
Sir Jakob stands over the kneeling mortally wounded man, holding his blade deep within his abdomen. His opponent’s face is pale and distraught.
“Do you wish to offer confessions?” asks Sir Jacob in a booming voice.
The man grunts in an effort to speak. Sir Jakob leans towards the dying man. The horseman whispers his last words into Sir Jakob's attentive ear.
“It shall be so,” Sir Jakob states and with swift movement removes his sword. This prompts blood and viscera to spew from the man before he collapses upon the ground.
“By the rites of the Holy Goddess Anon, I declare you forgiven and indebted to the Great Lord of Heaven.” recites Sir Jakob as he sheaths his greatsword with a metal grinding.
Abathea is always awed at the sight of such pious rituals.
Edwulf goes to one of the near restrained horses, who whine on his approach. He takes a knife and inscribes a warning into the horse flesh. The creature shrieks as Edwulf cuts its bindings. The horse races off fleeing into the forest.
Abathea is dismayed. Wilberht remarks with disapproval, “Was that really necessary?”
“What!? They should know who comes for them.”
Lockeer approaches Sir Jakob who is still deep in prayer. Lockeer is in deep awe after witnessing such a fierce skirmish. He does not know if to disturb the knight. Sir Jakob finishes his prayer and states, “Come, let us aid your village.”
The party approaches the village of Shining. A modest settlement within a cleared area of the forest. Stumps of felled trees and lumber workings surround the town for many yards. The village is in possession of many houses and a great hall. The village does display a ten foot wooden wall as its means of protection. The heavy wooden gates closed as if under siege.
Approaching the gate, a sentry stationed on the wall cries, “Who goes there?!”
“Lockeer! With allies!”
After a moment the gate wrought with iron, groans slowly open. There is an armed company ready to receive them. Mostly a mob of peasants only armed with working tools. They hesitantly stare at the party but the sight of Lockeer calms their nerves.
“Who governs this place?” commands Sir Jacob.
From within the crowd, a lone man approaches. “It is I, Governor Toris.”
As Sir Jakob starts towards him, he asks, “Of which House do herald from?”
Sir Jakob deflects, “It matters not. You have called for aid.”
The Governor responds, “Very well unnamed knight, we seek your assistance.”
Gathered is the party and company inside the great hall which displays a great and long table that seats many. The Governor and Sir Jakob discuss grievances over a map of the region.
Edwulf lounges merrily in a chair drinking meade unconcerned with events.
“This is the eighth day of their siege. They have made no demands this day unlike the others. I fear their patience is wearing thin. They may be gathering for an attack.”
Sir Jakob studies the map, sunlight pours in from the many tall windows of the hall. “What is their number?”
“We count at least fifty horsemen.”
Edwulf bellows, “Fifty! What rabble are you that cannot take on fifty men!”
The Governor looks at him perturbed, “We are not adequately armed and possess no swordsmen.”
“Seems like a failing to me!” decries Edwulf.
The Governor's face turns to anger before Sir Jakob rebukes, “ Enough of this! Edwulf, hold your tongue!” He then asks, “Does this village possess a garrison.”
“No sir knight.” the Governor denies.
“And of an armory?”
“No sir knight?”
“How many men of able body do you possess?”
“Only thirty strong men sir knight, the rest of men at arms were sent to Lord Talbots war consul.”
Sir Jakob huffs, “This will be a difficult fight. What are their demands?”
“They seek–—”
Before finishing a sentry burst forth, “My Governor! They have returned in force!”
In mid afternoon, the sky has cleared revealing bright and hot sunlight. Sir Jakob and the Governor stand atop the wall and overlook a company of Horsemen gathered in battle formation.
A lone and ordimented rider approaches the wall. He decrees, “LORD KILGAR DEMANDS COIN AND PROVISIONS FOR HIS ARMY. OBLIGE AND YOU WILL BE SPARED. THIS WILL BE YOUR FINAL DEMAND.”
“And by what guarantee will they be spared?” replies Sir Jakob.
“By my guarantee, Odus, Earl of the Plains and leader of the Corsack Horsemen, will grant safety to all who oblige.”
The Governor whispers to Sir Jakob, “He lies.”
Sir Jacob ignores him, and states, “Alright! But on the condition that you and an escort be brought to discuss terms.”
The Governor looks at him completely surprised along with the town populous.
Abathea cannot believe that he would surrender the town so easily.
The Governor demands angrily, “By what authority do you make such a decree!?”
Sir Jakob states to him, “I will make an address.” He then calls out, “Return within an hour as we make good our preparations.”
The Earl responds, “Very well, be prepared!” There he and his company disperse into the woodlands.
The Governor scold, “How dare you! Have you know we have not enough food stores and with winter fast approa–”
Sir Jakob holds up a hand and silences him. He stands atop the wall before the peasantry and his company. He removes his cloak and the gold sigil of House Wren gleams in the light off of his breastplate.
Wilberht denounces, “Sire, I highly advise against this course of action!”
The Governor utters stunned, “A knight of House Wren?! Impossible! House Wren was all but destroyed!”
The town folk look on dumbfounded.
Jakob softly but confidently states, “No, I am what remains.”
The Governor says with apprehension, “But that would mean—” he suddenly throws himself down at Sir Jakobs feet.
The town is beyond bewildered until Wilberht announces, “Gentle townfolk, I reveal to you Lord Jakob Wren of House Wren.”
The populous, with sudden understanding, throw themselves to the ground, bowing before the Lord.
Lord? Abathea thinks. She never knew she was in company with a Lord of a House, the highest position of power in the realm aside that of the True King. She bows before him in wonder of why he never revealed this. He could be living a life of luxury, but instead choose to roam the realm as a knight.
Wilberht states, “My Lord this act is ill advised.”
Jakob decrees, “No it is time for the return of House Wren.”
The Governor, still bowing, asks with sudden humility, “My Lord, what are we to do? Surely you do not intend to surrender our village?”
“No, I do not,” Lord Jakob declares while raising him to his feet. “Prepare your warriors.”
After an hour, the horsemen return to the front gate. They find no sentries to be seen. A moment passes and the gate groans open thus allowing the Earl of the Plains and an escort of twelve armed men on horseback to enter. They find the town to be strangely still and quiet. The local town folk out of sight, perhaps in fear.
In the courtyard stands Lord Jakob, proudly displaying his crest in the sunlight. Alongside him is Edwulf and the Governor. Abathea remains hidden in a nearby stable.
The Earl of the Plains approaches on his horse and demands, “Where are the provisions promised?”
“We have them not.” states Lord Jacob.
“THEN YOU LIE!” scolds the Earl as he draws his sword thus prompting his gaurd to follow suit.
The Governor announces, “ Are you aware of whose presence you are in?”
The Earl chides, “A knight? Although your sigil is unfamiliar to me.”
The Governor announces, “This is the Lord Jakob Wren of House Wren.”
The Earl's smirk disappears with apprehension, “Lord?—”
In sudden succession, a lone arrow strikes the horseman in the rear, dismounting him with a crash of armor. Soon town folk rush forth from their hiding places, armed with: axes, spades, and hammers.
The Earl is taken in surprise and fright as the heavy wooden gate is closed behind them. They are now trapped with their reinforcements outside the wall unable to reach them.
In the melee, few horsemen are dragged from their mounts and thrown violently on the ground. The remainder gather themselves in a circle in the courtyard determined to defend themselves. With blades they swipe at the armed mob and slay few of them. The rest of the mob hold their position around the besieged horsemen. Occasionally one peasant will go to strike quickly before retreating. The Horsemen frantic to defend and control their mounts that buck violently.
Abathea emerges from her hiding place to spectate the battle. However a lone horseman who had survived his dismounting starts towards her. He paces in strides which causes Abathea to retreat into the safety of the stables. But before she could barre the door, he burst through.
Abathea stumbles back, withdrawing further. He follows her into the stable and barres the door behind him. He offers a wicked grin, “I bet you’re a nice and tight one aren't ya!”
She draws her blade, fearfully. Her heart races in terror.
This prompts him, “Fiesty one eh, good I like them wriggling!”
He approaches and raises his sword above his head to deliver a blow. But in an act of quick thinking, Abathea draws one throwing knife and hurls it at him. He is about to swing when it strikes him but unfortunately it was only the flat end of the blade. This hits him in the jaw and he stumbles forward….that is right into the tip of Abathea’s sword. The blade shears his flesh, plunging deep into his chest. His vile grin turns to distress. However his momentum still continues and he falls upon Abathea, causing them both to collapse to the floor. Caught underneath the gasping body, Abathea struggles to free herself, all the while his distraught face becomes ever paler. Soon the door is slashed upon by a heavy weapon. This sparks fear within Abathea. More enemies maybe? This terror forces Abathea to double her efforts, but she continues attempting to lift the corpse to no avail. Suddenly the blade of an ax smashes through the barred door. She can only witness in terror, paralyzed with dread. Then… CRASH! A figure smashes their way through the door.
“Come Abathea! This is no time for lovemaking!” It's Edwulf!
Relieved, she cries, “You arse! Get him off of me!”
He goes and with his foot kicks the body off of her. He extends his hand, “Come! We have much slaying to do!”
They return to battle to find the horsemen stout in their defense. Easily, they repel unorganized attacks from the mob.
Edwulf remarks, “This should have been finished by now.”
He looks at Abathea with a wink and says, “Witness this,” and retrieves a throwing knife. With great force, he hurles it at the horsemen circle. In a great display of skill, the knife pierces the gap of armor on the Earl's shoulder. The momentum of which knocks him off his horse to clatter onto the ground. This startles his guards a few of which dismount to retrieve him. This gives the mob the opening they need. Soon another melee ensues as the armed mob rip theridesr from their horses and beat on them savagely while they are on the ground. Only a few men remain standing to surround and defend the Earl.
Before the mob can finish them off, Lord Jakob commands, “Enough!”
The crowd parts as he marches forth in his heavy armor that clatter and clangs with every footstep.
The remaining escort, hesitant, displays their blades. The wounded Earl sits on the ground, blood trickles from his wound.
Lord Jakob demands, “Surrender and be spared.”
The guards look at each other nervously, unable to plot a solution out of their predicament.
The Earl grunts and utters, “What are your terms?”
Later and back upon the wall is Lord Jakob and the Earl of the Plains. The Earl clutches his now bandaged wound. Out before them in the field, is the remaining Corsack Horsemen. They look on at their captured leader, uncertain of what to do.
Lord Jakob announces, “Withdraw and I shall release your leader. Any resistance will mean certain death.”
One Horseman calls back, “By what guarantee?”
“By the guarantee that I have not killed him already.”
They look amongst each other with uncertainty. One speaks, “We will only obey the orders of the Earl.”
A pause ensues, before Lord Jakob pulls upon the injured Earl's wounded arm. This causes him to groan and command, “Withdraw!”
The horsemen look at each other again before the representative answers, “Very well. What are your conditions?”
“You are to leave and never return.” commands Jakob.
“Understood,” the horseman responds.
“Also relay a message to your Lord Kilgar,” Lord Jakob adds.
“What shall I inform him?”
“Inform him that House Wren has returned.”