Midday. The sun-dappled undergrowth that littered the forest floor of the Jayek Woods bustled with activity as columns of soldiers marched through the foliage, passing ancient oaks and the odd sapling bursting with its first growth, the green buds a stark contrast to the pale trunk. Normally the forest that covered the surrounding countryside which bordered the sleepy village of Jayek was a peaceful area, yet dangerous times often bear witness to strange tidings. But to the villagers of Jayek large bodies of men were not much of a surprise due to the ongoing conflict which to us now is known as the Apostatian Conflict. This war had lasted several years with the Apostates, an old sect of warriors both young and old whom had received the worst of the fighting. Villages, castles and even cities had been conquered, their people 'liberated' as the Apostates were slowly beaten back towards the South. Yet two strongholds in the North still stayed intact, their surrounding lands littered with the dead of past sieges. Corpses were left to decompose in the heat of summer, ravens and crows darkened the sky as they feasted upon the dead, their squawks of protest echoing loudly throughout the valley as their sharp beaks tore into the cold flesh of the dead. Once more however the villagers feared for their lives, already columns of men and women, children and the elderly were fleeing towards the safety of Alburq Castle, burdened with what valuables they could carry, they fled South to the safety of those wooden walls. A bastion still standing proud in defiance to those that willed its inhabitants harm.
Now pouring onto the grassland that broke the line of trees the columns of soldiers continued their march south, passing Jayek with little interest, only a few glancing curiously towards the villagers of Jayek streaming southwards, wondering what they were doing. A handful of peasants however were no concern to a fully armoured and armed man. At the head of the column marched a tall dark haired soldier whom was obviously the leader of this party. He stood around average height with thick set muscle with prominent broad shoulders, he had a thick beard that was carefully trimmed which highlighted his jaw, a jagged scar run under his left eye giving it a slight droop, his brow was creased from consistent frowning and anger at the rest of the World, especially the Apostates, he was a man that possessed a short temperament, he could be an utterly heartless bastard. However he was a skilled tactician and thus had earned his men’s respect, allowing him to climb the ranks and in a short space of time become the leader of House Wolf. He led his men cautiously, always scanning the surrounding countryside for any sign of his foe, any glint on a helmet, a sudden burst of startled sparrows spiralling into the sky chattering their protest at being disturbed, or the unmistakable cloud of dust that signalled a troop of men. It was these dangers he was alerted for, any sign, any misgiving and he would be ready.
Or in this case...a brassy note. Calling a halt he strained his ears cupping his hands around each one to catch what he had just heard. Silence. No. Once again a brassy note tore the silence, bursting forth before retreating into nothingness. Again the note sounded, only briefly but it was unmistakable. They were under attack, and their position was precarious. They stood at the base of a hill, off to their left lay Jayek, too far to reach. Behind them lay the Jayek Woods. If they reached there it would slow their progress and they would surely be caught. No. He would have to fight. Shouting his orders at his deputies he formed his men into battle line, bringing forward what little protection he had. Shield-brothers stood together, their shields overlapping, crouching behind them to cover themselves as best as possible. Behind them stood the heavy armoured troops each with a varying weapon, some carried giant battle axes whereas others preferred great two handed swords. In front of his shielders he deployed a screen of crossbowmen and archers that would fire and fall back as the enemy advanced. He chastised himself for not bringing any mounted men, an amateurish mistake. Now he would stand, fight and die if need be.
For upon the brow of the hill shapes began to emerge as their enemy took shape. The commander shivered as he spotted the feared longbowmen of the Apostatian Army, their broad shoulders giving them away, also the long shafts that dangled in their hands. Yet the bows were not strung. Why he wondered, they had the height advantage; a shower of arrows could severely harm his troops, both in body and mind. A double line of shields now appeared upon the hill with a larger body of men clustered behind them. They advanced to the brow of the hill and stopped. Now they stood there, watching, waiting, not a sound burst from their lips. No taunts, no jibes and no jeers. Complete silence. A man shuffled next to the commander, cursing softly and praying for redemption. The bastards taunt us he said, they are our retribution.
A brassy note suddenly cut the tension, making several men jump with the suddenness of the noise. A white flag rose above the men on the hill, waving slightly in the breeze, another flag was raised, one the commander did not recognise. A lone figure started down the hill, a piece of parchment clutched in his hand. Telling his men to stay where they were the commander began to take tentative steps forward to meet the herald.
They met half way between the two forces, wordlessly the herald handed the commander the parchment. Tearing the wax seal he opened it and read aloud;
Dear Commander of House Wolf,
I am tired of fighting, my bones grow weary from the constant battles and skirmishes that we have fought against one another, my men have bled enough for this cursed land they give their lives to defend. I have witnessed too much death, I have held too many weeping widows as they collapse in my arms crying for their loved ones, no more will I watch fathers bury their sons. Once again I find myself asking why? Why do we fight this war for those who lead us back in Dhirim. Why do my men die whilst they live and feast in peace? The answer, there is none. They make us bleed so they can continue to live. I have defended this Northern Border against your hordes, my castle has held against you, time after time you have thrown yourselves against our walls, and time and time again you have been defeated. Do you not think now it is the time for peace? The North has been stripped bare, our wealth diminished due to this war. I am here today not to fight, but to come to terms for peace. If you accept then I will gladly walk from this field safe in knowing my people can begin to re-build. My terms are enclosed with this parchment.
Signed
SirCymro the Stalwart
Lord of Alburq Castle
The commander re-read the letter, a third and a fourth time. He could not quite believe what he was reading, it seems the Lords of the Apostates were losing faith in their own leaders. His heart soaring with joy he read the terms that were enclosed and finding them acceptable sent them back with the herald. With a smile upon his face he turned back to his men, finally he saw an end to the War in the North. Finally there might be some peace. Glancing over his shoulder he laughed to himself. Today was a good day.
Today the beginning of the end had begun.
TL;DR
I have come to a peace agreement with the Wolves and am now the Independent State of Alburqia, i have no more strategus ties to the Mercs, i have done this because i am starting themed battles soon! Just for fun and exp, and everyone is welcome to join and have an amazing time! I thank everyone who has helped me over the past months with troops and gold, and your help is very much appreciated and you are more than welcome to come and help me with this as well!!
lets say 9, ok? but need to speak first to my sponsor .... :mrgreen: