(1866-08-27) S&T Adventures: Ironhold Arrival
S&T Adventures: Ironhold Arrival
Summary: After a long trip, Shirlyn and Thomas arrive in Ironhold and go over their plan after Shirlyn receives missives and rumors waiting for her.
Date: 1866-08-27
Related: Anything titled with S&T Adventures:
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Thomas  Shirlyn  

Galenthia - Ironhold - Gate & Marketplace

While the marketplace of Iron March is in many ways typical of any large town market, there is one thing that immediately sets it apart from most others within Galenthia: iron and steel. Indeed, the clatter of hammers and anvils is a constant here, coupled with the smoke of many forges as smiths from all over Galenthia (and occasionally beyond) work to improve their craft with good steel-making iron fresh from the source. With very little Guild presence in the town, competition is fierce (but generally civil) and it is well-known that fighting men can find excellent arms and armor at equally-excellent prices here, if they're willing to make the trip to the somewhat isolated town.

Which isn't to say that there is not the usual assortment of foodstuffs, crafts, and material to be found in the markets…there certainly are, and during the day this part of town is usually quite busy. Members of the Iron Guard are a regular presence here, keeping a sharp eye out for would-be-thieves and efficiently breaking up violent altercations on the infrequent occasions that such things occur. While chaotic, it seems to be a relatively well-managed chaos, and despite how crowded and busy it gets, it doesn't seem to carry the underlying tension that some marketplaces in other parts of the West carry. In short, there is still a semblance of a "small town" feel to Iron March's market despite the fact that Iron March stopped being a "small town" quite some time ago.

1866-08-27

It's mid-afternoon as the 'crew' from the barge make their way through the town of Iron March, as soon as they passed under the gate, Left and Right took off toward the market for some mission or another. They didn't say why and no one questioned it, least of all their lady, Shirlyn. The sun is high and the heat that boils off the streets, coupled with the bodies everywhere, lends a certain smell to the place that one could be certain isn't there once the sun pasts middling.

The press isn't so bad here, though, nor the smell, but being this close to the market does make one's nose twitch after being out on the clear, crisp water for so many days. Lady Shirlyn Charing is wearing a pair of brown leather breeches under a long blue layered ridding skirt. Her tunic is tucked smartly into her pants and skirt, the very same from the night before with suns embroidered on them, a heavy armored corset cinches it all together. "Oh. I forget sometimes how bad these places smell," her hair is down and unbound today, riotous rings of curls swishing at her back as she shakes her head. "This will take some getting used to, eh, Thomas?"

Iron March - a town one might not expect to be a frontier town, but one that is in some ways. Right on the border with the Fallow Lands, recently threatened by Partho-Thorn forces at Barnsley and, more distantly ruthlessly sacked by Thorn forces during the First Succession War, the Cassomir have strongly garrisoned this town for years. Indeed, fields all around it are cleared for the muster, for practice and for clear fields of fire should an enemy ever show their faces again.

As someone who considers themselves an ally, Thomas would have been crazy to sneak into the city under the radar. Instead, he and his men are equipped in travel armour, mottled green and brown brigandine for Thomas and dull scale hauberks of the same colour for the men. Their crests are non existant, too, but they carry their shields uncovered and standard held up high so that all may see who they are. The weapons remain sheathed, of course. Thomas smiles at the Charing lady, walking near the front of the section of Sun Shield troops. "It can't smell any worse than the cesspool of Four Corners outside the Grand Canal district."

"No, you're right about that," she wrinkles up her nose, "but when you've been away from it for so long you tend to forget. Maybe you just want to?" She shrugs, eyes scanning for the arrival of her own guards, she had no need to sneak in either, thanks to Thomas and his men.

When she finally spots Right and Left her eyes dart immediately to the papers in Right's hand. He nods his head to her and she stops, allowing others to pass as he whispers in her ear. Her facial expressions are mute, but she nods finally when he steps away. "Are you sure?" Right and Left both nod. "Right then, It can't be helped. That was all the words, nothing left out?" They nod once more.

She turns to Thomas then and raises her brow. "It would seem that my cousin is dead," she says with a shrug, "I had thought it would come to this. I guess I can take solace in the fact that I talked Evae out of taking her place and riding home early under the guise of being Jaelynn." She hold her hand out for the parchment that is firmly held in Right's hand. The seal unbroken and the device on it the sigil of House Arkanin, she opens it and reads while Thomas processes what she's said so far.

By the time Shirlyn's twin shadows have returned to her flanks, the group is already in the centre of the main square. This area, where the market and social areas of town intersect, is also the most prominent part of Iron March. Thomas is busy talking to a Cassomir soldier who evidently has recognised the sun in splendor on cobalt sigil on his shield and standard. "And make sure that the Viscount knows we have arrived. We'll stay in the inn until he is ready to receive us. He is a busy man." The soldier nods, offers a weak salute and takes off. Thomas pivots on his backfoot and turns to Shirlyn. His lips press down tightly together and he is silent for a few moments. "God rest her soul. She was not right in the head."

"Indeed, the One keep her," but that's about as solemn as Shirlyn gets as she reads over the message in her hand. Twice, no, thrice she read it from top to bottom before handing it off the Thomas. "Well, that's… very typical of mine uncle," she grins, "good to see he's doing something worthy in all of this. I'll have to send him and my father missives as soon as we get back."

She worries her lip for a moment before walking up next to Thomas and speaks lowly into his ear. "The fight has begun, Lee is not in good shape, they killed the Lord there. A few places have begun to burn and the Arkanin manse in Four Corners has been looted and set ablaze." She steps away and sighs. "Lee is far away from the border, d'Armaz is just now readying his men, calling his banners. So how did they get to Lee so fast, is there any doubts now to my suspicions of treachery, Thomas?"

Thomas's eyebrows lift up at the mention of the chaos caused by the opening moves. "Yes, but I will silence them for now. What is certain is that d'Armaz forces were obviously in Arkanin lands long before this latest move. Cunning. Still, these are preliminary moves. The death of a Lord is not a good omen, but nor is it a crushing defeat. Farms will be rebuilt. More important that the banners and militia be called. Did Lord Lee die in battle?"

"Indeed, you are most certainly correct. However, the rumor only says," Shirlyn speaks lowly allowing Right and Left to block Thomas' guards, "that there were three villages set ablaze, trade routes under attack, hmm…" she ponders for just a second before continuing, "many border skirmishes with unknown peoples. As for Lord Lee…"

Shirlyn does sigh at this, close her eyes and shakes her head. "He was found with ten knives in his body, hanging from the parapets with a letter stabbed to his body, warning of the dangers of taking part in 'The Rose of Bellmoore's foolish war,' or somesuch of the like."

"Warfare of the mind. That was a barbarous way to treat a fellow noble. Quite uncivilised. D'Armaz's base origin shines quite brightly today, apparently." Thomas frowns and shakes his head. He motions to Left and Right. "Are you worried that my men might hear, Lady Shirlyn?"

"The men he has are the stock Mattias was speaking of, though he has hired Kentaire Long Cannoneer Mercenaries as well. A wing of them. And if Mattias truly meant that Adriono bought other mercenaries, then it would be those that are currently terrorizing Arkanin." She ponders that and eyes her guards as Thomas gestures to them. "Yes." She puts it simply.

"Why? They are men of the East and true. I know all of them personally." He waves his hand dismissively, evidently not wanting to bother with an answer. "That is troubling news indeed. I shall send her a missive, then, post haste. Did you see the message which you gave me from her?"

"Yes, well, I don't," again Shirlyn is frank, though not agitated, it seems she's puzzling something out, she blinks and turns to Thomas. "Oh, who?" Shirlyn furrows her brow and as if the thought came to her she rocks back on her heels. "Oh. Evae. No I did not, but I sent my guard over to talk to her, If I had a guess it was about the mercenaries, yes?"

"Yes, it was. I plan to avail her of Lord Julian's services, providing, of course, that she's got the coin to pay. Still, they're well experienced counter-insurgents. They did quite well against Daltre when he was dispersed in an insurgency and then in open battle they thrashed him. I will council him from leading in person, though. It would send the wrong message." Namely, it would send the message that the Tarris Duchy was fully behind the Arkanins. Without any confirmation from his Duke and with them having borne the brunt of the war against the Thorns, it is unlikely that this is the case and Thomas seems intent on preserving some ambiguity.

"Thankfully, coin is not something of a trouble for Arkanin," Shirlyn grins, "it would do nicely to fight fire with fire in this case, and keep the other houses out of it." She frowns pulling the gloves out of her belt she pulls them on her fingers. "You are most correct, we don't want the North to get nervous, that's for sure. Keep it as neutral as possible. One knows we don't need another 30 years war. But the hiring of his mercs should be alright, to be sure. They are loyal to nothing but contract and coin."

"Well, the Arkanins are going to have to muster SOME support. But the more that can simply defend their holdings, the better. I suspect after that grisly murder of Lord Lee, many are reticent. As you said last night, Wayston men are soft; I am of the firm belief that they have become soft and are not such by nature, but due to enforced neutrality and peace the last true war that many Wayston soldiers saw was during the Thirty Years War. We will see them have their mettle tested." While definitely appearing to be interested in the outcome, he does not look like he relishes the idea of war on Galenthian soil.

"And they yet may, but I don't want them doing so without the Queen's expressed permission. No one, and I mean no one wants to upset her in all of this. Least of all Arkanin, I know my cousin well enough to know that," Shirlyn says sternly, turning to catch Left and Right's nod. "Oh yes, they are, and that is precisely why. They'll have climb out of their holes, their stone curtains and their prayer, as my Uncle so aptly put it. I'll be writing my father to make sure he gets off his arse and fights too."

"To true men of the One, prayer is a spiritual vestment which we place over our temporal armour. It strengths and protects us in different ways." Here goes Thomas on his religious bent. "But I understand what you say. Prayer without action is weak and lame. Action without prayer is often devilish and self-serving. If a number of lords stay within their lands, they offer the Arkanins a reserve with which keep for a true invasion, should it happen. At this point… who knows."

Shirlyn rolls her eyes and makes a show of it. "Oh. I'm sure all of that is true, but that doesn't apply here when your lands could be burning. I suspect that didn't help Lord Lee any. The One… well, they seem to be willing to let us learn in this case." Finally! Yes! She nods vigorously. "That is precisely what I mean, Thomas. Prayer is fine and all, but you have a duty to your people too."

"Perhaps not in this life it did not, but in the next he will be well provisioned." States Thomas with firm conviction. "I know what it's like to have my lands burning, Shirlyn, remember. I had to fight thousands to lift /that/ occupation." He rubs his chin. "Then again, at least some of the occupiers were light masters. The citizens had few bad things to say about the Malkess, which made their integration into my fief and forces easy. The Caltu on the other hand… well, let's just say that Viscount d'Armaz has much in common with the scum of the mountain passes." The Baron scowls.

"That may be, but his people will curse his name as they burn alive," Shirlyn shrugs, "sometimes complacency means your life. You don't act because you're too busy hiding and praying, you forget to do what's needed to help yourself. I suspect Xavier is reminding them all of that." She nods as he speaks of his lands burning. "I don't forget, never do. But you acted, you didn't just hide. You did your best, the Caltu… I share your anger with that."

"They will pay, but soon. The punitive expedition is best left to the future. We are not going to gleam plunder from the Caltu, after all, but they do need to be taught a lesson that the slaughter of their warriors might not have pressed home." Thomas leaves what the lesson is up to the imagination. "Despite d'Armaz's transgressions, this needs to be contained. With Tarris out of the fight, the Kingdom cannot countenance a fresh war with a rested Aequor."

There's a grin there and appreciative glance. "It is good, Thomas, to have a fire in your belly for what you believe in. You understand, then, why I am so driven, for entirely different reasons of course but the feeling is mutual." Her grin widens. "Oh, I a mind to agree with you there. Lessons untaught are lessons not learned." Back to business, it seems, Shirlyn nods. "Yes, containment is key, and no one wants to be on the Queen's bad side either. We really need to go speak to her."

"We both serve the realm, ultimately." Thomas notes with a smile of his own. "We do and we need to convince her to call a general court as urgently as possible. But there are a few things I need to sort out with the Viscount, first. Political manoeuvrings which until recently I had not considered. If Galenthia is to be a succesful project, it requires concerted and unified aim."

"We do," she concedes, "in our own way. That is true enough." She sighs lightly. "She does need to do that, but not to hear all of what I have to say. Every bit of information given to us should be given to her," Shirlyn slides her gaze to Thomas, "privately. I do not wish to start a riot in the middle of court." This does bring a smile to Shirlyn's lips, however. "Yes, it will certainly need to be unified, and I think it would do her some good to strengthen relations with the North. She might just need it."

"I agree. We'll have to go down and convince her thusly, then, yes? Perhaps with his Excellency the Viscount Cassomir as well. He would lend weight to the situation. One of her nine Viscounts and one of her seventeen Barons. And the well placed, well serving daughter of one of those Viscounts, too. Certainly no commoners plea-ing for justice, aye?" Thomas grins.

Shirlyn stops walking once more and stares at Thomas. "No." She says simply. "We should talk to her and have her call them down. I don't need anyone to lend weight to my words." Shirlyn cocks her head to the side and considered Thomas for a moment. "You remember all I told you, yes? No one is to know of my involvement in any of this. I still have much work to do and I'd like to continue doing it without dying, Thomas." She levels her head and continues walking on. "If I must I will go before you and tell her all I know, but I will not expose myself. Not yet."

"Relax, Shirlyn. I didn't mean for your proposals. That can stay between us and Her Majesty. But my proposals DO require the weight of a Viscount. I speak with the authority of mine own, as he lays in command of the eastern marches of the Kingdom, but an ally such as Viscount Henric for my purposes is incredibly useful. In any case, it would prevent him from doing something foolish. The man is as a brother to me, a bond forged in war. He shed much blood for my Duchy and that is not to be forgotten." Thomas motions to an inn up ahead. "Sometimes, though, he is ever the Lancer. His new byname is suitable. He charges where sometimes he ought to hold back. We should get settled."

"Whatever it is you wish to talk to her about, so long as it has nothing to do with me or my contacts, I have no say in that. As for your Viscount, well, I don't need him or his words to tell her my whispers. No one but the Queen may know what Mattias has told us, let her put the information out to everyone. Burning bridges, when it comes to contact secrecy, is never a good thing. The who is less as important as the what." She looks at the Inn. "Yes, lets. And if you so much as mention Mattias or his information I shall stomp on your toes!" Shirlyn smirks and heads into the Inn with Right and Left trailing behind.

"Mattias is invaluable. Let us therefore endeavour to not only not reveal his aid to any others, but to get him what is owed in the form of honours and compensation, yes? I'd promised him such when he saved my life and the Queen told me she would not forget about him." The Baron doesn't wince, though he smiles. "You mean, to our friend here, right?"

"I would think he'd expect no less," Shirlyn nods, "Mattias is ever thinking about Mattias. He does nothing without getting something in return, or at least expecting such." She shrugs as Right and Left make arrangements for rooms. "To anyone, yes, though I think a couple stomped toes is minimal in retrospect of what others would get," Shirlyn grins widely.

"I'll let you take the lead. Please, after you, my Lady." Thomas sweeps his hand ahead of him towards the door, laughing.

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