1865-10-20: A Distant Drummer
A Distant Drummer
Summary: Lord Thomas Chandus confronts an irksome mountain man named Franz Smith and his merry band.
Date: 1865-10-20
Related: The Peasants Are Revolting
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Thomas  

The Hamlet of Loris in the Valley of Scales
Loris is a small hamlet on the southeastern outskirts of the Valley of Scales, nestled in between foothills at the base of Three Peaks Mountain.
20 Octobre, 1865 IE

Difficult was the day in the Valley of Scales. The normally prosperous jovial people had begun to feel the bite of a bad season, of bad practices by mismanagement and of desperation. It wasn't that people were starving to death in their villages, but missing a meal now and then for no better reason than a graft and looting by ostensibly friendly soldiers drives men to desperate actions. The town of Strand still had a market and still needed to be fed, damn the villagers one and all. So what do to?

Short, dark and quiet, Franz Smith spent a life in the foothills and mountains, trapping and tracking game, fighting Caltu who raided his kin and eking out a living. His small height belied the fact that he was massively strong and his quiet demeanour that he was a natural leader, what men look for - clever, honourable and fair.

Or so the reports that had reached Lord Thomas Chandus said. For two weeks now, he had heard about this Franz and his massive, ten pound warhammer, his skill with the longbow and his curious refusal to injure anybody. Somehow, the man and his band had been looting caravans, but mostly for food and a little bit of coin, apparently in a way to steal back whatever they thought stolen from them. The merchants in the town of Strand, the Valley's main hub, were howling and begging for an intercession. But the thefts were minor, and the hardy peasantry very much on side and anyways, Lord Thomas had the training, outfitting and hardening of fifty re-enlisted veterans and new troops into the Regiment besides the call up of the militia pike, the Sun Spears.

All seemed like something to put off while he played at Colonel until a very tired and out of breath man with a Golden Rooster on his green and silver tabard arrived– the Order of the Burnished Spur, Sir Wulfed de Ufford's men. The men of the Thorn had been found and on with it, to their destruction we will take them!

Unrest in one's home seemed a much more urgent all of a sudden. After issuing mobilisation orders for most of Lord Chandus's (Scales) Regiment and the Strand Ray of Sun Spear pike militia and setting out defence orders for the rest, Thomas set off with a small section of mounted Hobelars, the Regiment's cavalry.

They rode up quickly to the hamlet of Loris where Franz Smith and his band made their rest, the sun in splendor of House Chandus displayed prominently and weapons sheathed. They relied on the good will traditionally inherent in the men of Scales, though to any stranger from outside the valley looking at them, they might look like something else – a leader in a full suit of heavy lorrica armour flanked by riders in the lighter cuirasses, as if something out of the Vir Sidian Empire.

An ambush could have been waiting; truly, had they swarmed with enough people, it was even possible that they would have carried off or killed the Lord of Sun Shield. Oddly enough though, they did not.

Franz Smith met Lord Thomas with a group of his men arrayed in arrowhead behind him, dressed in their outdoors wear for the autumn. There was an awkward pause at first, but it lasted less than a handful of seconds before the hardy mountain folk bowed to their Lord. He, in return, dipped his head and the meeting got underway in earnest.

“Master Franz.” Lord Thomas began, voice deadpan. “I'm glad I found you so quickly.”

“At your disposal, m'lord.” The small man said back, who despite his stature had a loud, booming voice. This impressed the young Lord Chandus. The gears began to turn, but before he could talk to the mountain man, he was pre-empted. “M'lord, I did, well, WE did what we did to feed our families. The Laughing Dragon's soldiers, they came into Loris. They sought food. We were so used to dealing with your lads that when they didn't pay, and then they laughed and spat in our face and mistreated us, we were a tad shocked. No, outraged is the better word, m'lord!”

Lord Thomas, ever the expert at hiding his expression in these kinds of situation, remained impassive looking, He flipped his hand and briefly dipped in his head in acquiescence to the commoner to continue, and continue he did. “We thought your troops was in it with them, too. After all, why would the Viscount's soldiers come here on their own and take, and take, and take? See, it happened not just once, not twice, but thrice before we acted. And we did. We took the food and money they'd taken in kind from the caravans, damned those Strandians. We need to eat too. But we didn't hurt anybody, I swear to God, m'lord, we just scared 'em a bit and took, and brought it back to the villages. Not just Loris. All of the villages on Three Peaks' slope.”

Chandus lets him finish, watching his pained expression for a moment before he interjects. His voice is not unduly rough, nor is his tone monstrously anger; still, strident disapproval can be easily picked out. “Master Franz – I think you know my family well. You fought when you were called up in the last war, I remember you and your skill with bow and hammer. You fought well, but that should have only reinforced what you know. The Chandus have ruled this valley and your ancestors for a thousand years. We have ALWAYS kept our promises to defend you, but we cannot be anywhere. Would I defraud my own folk? Never. To say as such to me is akin to a slap, almost, only I will accept it as you are unto my kin. You ought to have come to me as soon as this happened. I am a Lord – you are a man of the mountain, and I have the power to stop these outrages from happening.”

He softens his tone, momentarily. “But they are outrages, and they should not have occurred. That said, what you have done was a crime. Not a major one, by my reckoning, but a crime none the less. There must be consequences, for what kind of justiciar would I be if I let the law lapse in my lands? Master Franz – here are the consequences. You served before, and you will serve again as your punishment. Times are not good in the Kingdom and men like you are needed. Either flock to the standard once more,” the soldier next to Thomas holding the Chandus Sun Banner raises it higher, “or we will devise some kind of service for you to perform in its stead. I am no monster, but some kind of justice will be meted.”

Expecting Franz to simply grovel on the ground, the Lord is rather surprised when he throws his hands up in the air. “M'lord, it may have been a stop in my smarts, but I did not know. If you will swear by the Almighty, by the Divine Father, that you had nothing to do with this, I'll give myself up. My men go free.”

Surprised and, once he'd gotten over the shock of being talked to like this by one of his vassals, rather delighted, Thomas paused with brow furrowed. This was another pause akin to the one at the beginning of the meeting, only this one infinitely longer as he considered this. Finally, Thomas removed his right gauntlet and raised it and in a solemn voice, said, “I swear before the Divine Father and Saint Michaelis, as your Lord, that I had nothing to do with this, that Viscount Varian had nothing to do with this criminality, and none of the Regiment's troops did either. In fact, Master Franz, you'll be happy to know that upon the Viscount finding out about outrages committed by his troops he… dealt with them appropriately.” He trusted in Varian's cruel reputation filling in the blanks for the mountain men, as it did by the approving looks.

Thomas continued, “Now, men of Loris. The Valley, the County and the Kingdom are in dire need of help. Of YOUR help! You are all men of merit, of good standing, your sins notwithstanding – and they will not stand. Father Peter is expecting you at the Church of Saint Michaelis, in Strand. Confess to him and you will receive absolution and then I beg of you, I implore you men – help us crush the evil that is plaguing our lands, that is causing trade to falter, that is causing bandits to prey on the weak, that causes all those misfortunes we can't simply fix with ease. I can ensure you that any of my men preying on the weak will be flogged at first, and then hanged at second. But what can you ensure me? Can you help us fix the situation, can you respond to the Knight-Marshal's call, our own Duke Gauvain?”

As if a switch in a mechanical clock had been flipped, a cry rises first from Franz Smith and a moment later from his men. “To arms! To arms! The Unyielding Sun!”

Thomas unsheaths his sword and raises it in front of his face in salute to these men. “My men, your families will be well taken care of. We march just past noon. God willing, I will see you there and together, we will crush this evil. The Unyielding Sun!”

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