Marcelene was grinning as she spotted me. “Did you see?” she asked, bubbling with enthusiasm.
“Everyone saw,” I said.
“They were stubborn, but I got it to bend.”
“If you’ve got the stamina, I’d like to go and greet our benefactors,” I said.
“Afraid of arrows again?”
“I’ve had experiences I’d rather not repeat.”
As she mounted up, I turned my troop around. I didn’t want to note that we were short several members, and prayed they were merely injured rather than slain in the fighting. Emerging through the ring of wooden fortifications that had held us for so long, I felt free. Graymire felt it too, as he wanted to gallop. I kept his speed reined in, but let him canter instead. Having not been involved in the fight, our horses had ample energy, and we approached the thickest concentration of banners. The first we came upon was the radiant silver drop. I recognized the youth carrying it.
“Andrei,” I said, nodding in his direction. “What word of your father?”
“He lost the leg,” Andrei said. “He doesn’t know yet what to do with himself.”
“But he still lives?” I asked.
Andrei nodded. Further conversation was forestalled as Hengist came close enough for his powerful voice to cut in.
“I see you have new friends,” the King said. “Lady Alodia, was it?”
“Yes, your majesty,” Marcelene said with a dip of her head.
“You know each other?”
“Count Alodia is one of my vassals,” Hengist said. “And his daughters are all very striking.”
“Speaking of your vassals,” I said, “What are you doing here? I thought you had a kingdom to retake.”
“And leave my friends in the lurch? Never. Besides, it won’t be until next year before I can launch a proper attempt.”
“What news of Gebhard?” I asked.
“The sour old goat is in no condition to go into the field. Last word was they finally got an Ivory Wizard to come see to him. He sent his son, who is too young to be here. The kid’s somewhere in Blutenblatte’s shadow over there.”
“He’s my age,” Andrei said.
After a pause, Hengist said, “He looks younger.”
The pair fell in with me as I rode on to where a figure in gilded armor stood astride a horse in an equally gold caparison. Otto was not in his jousting harness, but this suit of plate was decorated in much the same manner. It was built for more mobility and had a modern style sallet. He had the sallet raised and the bevor lowered, so the warm smile on his face was easily visible.
“Yet another new sword?” Otto asked.
“This is actually a very old sword,” I said. “You may not want to get too close.”
“Why is that?”
“It is the one Jochen carried.”
Otto laughed.
“Seriously, however, I have to wonder what you’re doing here.”
“Salzheim was under siege from the north. How could I not?” Otto paused. When he spoke again, his tone was more serious. “The real question is why you didn’t ask me to come.”
“To be honest,” I said, “I didn’t expect anyone would come.”
Otto shook his head. “You’re hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.”
I sat in sheepish silence. It was Hengist who chimed in.
“We should get to sorting our prisoners. Separate the sellswords from the common soldiery from the commanders.”
“What are we going to do with them all?”
“Well, sellswords’ loyalties are fungible, if fickle,” Otto said, “At this point we can convince them to head home, or to a different war. The common soldiers we’re going to have to hold until we’re sure the war is done. Then they can be sent back to their farms and shops. It’s the commanders who’ll have to face judgment for this rebellion.”
“Did we catch Kirchner?” I asked.
“I’m afraid not, your Serene Highness.” I turned to where Wenzel von Slough had ridden up and waited for him to continue. “His retinue was seen riding northwest around the time the barrier came down. He’s either headed for Karststadt or Ritterblume, but I’d wager Karststadt.”
“I don’t look forward to that siege,” Hengist said.
“Let us deal with the issues at hand first,” I said. “Sort the prisoners and see who among their commanders we do have.”
***
I didn’t want to withdraw inside the walls of Salzheim while the palisades and stake fields were still in place. So I convened my court on an empty span of pasture with a curule chair perched on the back of a wagon as a throne. It provided ample opportunity for any interested party to observe, though a solid wall of armored men-at-arms from the Knights of Gefrah separated the clear rectangle where proceedings were to take place from the assembled crowd. The first headache was actually one of Freinmarkt-Ziegeberg’s captains, Grunwald. I recognized the man from the campaign around Kydessa, but that made me no less perturbed when he interrupted proceedings. I looked at the man with the arched nose and slightly lopsided eyebrows.
“Captain,” I said, trying to keep my voice measured, “I hope what you have to say is important.”
“It is,” Grunwald said.
“Then what is it?”
“You are about to put on trial several noblemen. Some of whom were captured by my men, who are entitled to their ransoms. If you were to punish them, that ransom would be forfeit as we would have failed to ensure their safety.”
“I see,” I said. “You realize these men aided a rebellion.”
“It’s no small matter,” Grunwald continued, “They’re worth a decent amount of money.”
I did my best not to sigh, nor let the inclination to do so show in my tone.
“If I bought their ransoms, would that satisfy you?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Soren, how much does that come to?”
“Might be more than you’ve got left,” Soren whispered.
“We’re going to have to find the money somewhere.”
“I will see what I can do.”
I turned back to Grunwald. “Is there anything else, Captain?”
“No, I suppose that’s it.”
“Then let us deal with the first set of prisoners.”
Straub spoke, “We have three captains of Kirchner’s army – Heinrich Stattler, Lutz Knochenmus, and Stal Feyblooded.” The three men were pushed into the pasture. Feyblooded was the tallest, though his lean form sapped the potentially imposing stature. The man in the middle was a few inches shorter, but broad of chest and shoulder, with the solid build of a professional soldier. His face was thickly bearded, and his flinty eyes took in every detail around him. He alone wore the tower and starlings of the Slagveld on his surcoat. The third and shortest man I knew from the burn scar on his face. It was the print of a left hand – mine. Hands still tied behind their backs, the three men were forced to their knees.
“Heinrich Stattler,” I said, causing the bearded man to look my way. “I do not recognize your name. By what right did you come to command part of Kirchner’s army?”
“I am Graf of Kellerburg[69], sworn to the Markgraf of Slagveld by hereditary villeinage. I have served no other master, and by that I was instructed to command.” I raised an eyebrow. I had always been perplexed by the concept of unfree nobility, but this was the first time I’d run into a member of that class[70]. I contemplated the matter for a moment.
“I see,” I said. I turned my gaze to the scarred man on the end. “Lutz Knochenmus.”
“I am heir to the city of Nordpunkt and to the Hookwood. My family has known no vassalage to any lord of the Volkmund. We are simply at war with you. I am entitled to every right and privilege of an open combatant.”
“But you did sneak into my room in Amber Town and attempted to assassinate me.”
Knochenmus scowled. “You have already punished me for that.”
“True enough,” I said, turning my attention to the other end of the row. “Stal Feyblooded.”
Feyblooded looked at me, but did not speak.
“You are a sworn vassal of the Graf of Ritterblume. Yet you turned your troops against him, resulting in his injury that has left him feverish and bedridden, and may still yet kill him.”
Feyblooded continued to remain silent.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “Your family has caused the north to dwindle and be diminished. It is a pale shadow of its former self, from before the coming of Jochen the butcher. You have no right to rule, and no right to pass judgment over anyone.”
“I see. I’m afraid you are wrong on that last part.” I sat up straighter. “Heinrich Stattler, your liege rebelled against his own rightful liege, and by faithfulness to your own oaths of fealty, you have been brought here. I see no deed of your own which merits punishment. However, for his rebellion, I am revoking the Margravate of Slagveld from Bonifaz Kirchner. As such, your holdings drawn from your liege are subject to dispossession due to his own sentence. Any possessions held of your own accord from a different source or in allodium will not be impacted. I will permit you to petition for direct service to whoever is tasked with the defense of the Slagveld once this rebellion is resolved.”
“I… understand,” Stattler said, his head sinking.
“Lutz Knochenmus,” I said, “You are to remain my prisoner until such time as the war with House Knochenmus has been resolved. Depending upon how that comes about, your fate may be a matter for negotiation.”
“I suppose you would want to ransom me,” Knochenmus said, “I won’t argue that.”
“Stal Feyblooded. For your treason, I sentence you to death.”
“What?” Feyblooded asked.
“You turned your blade against your liege. Your lands, titles, and life are forfeit.” I nodded to Straub. “Take these three away.” Feyblooded was trembling, though with rage or fear, I couldn’t tell. He didn’t give voice to any thought that passed through his head. “Who’s next?” I asked.
“Cralx Ghoststalker, Vicelord of the Hookwood.”
“Stubborn little bastard isn’t dead?” Knochenmus laughed as he was escorted away.
Cralx Ghoststalker was a goblin. Like the rest of his kind, he stood about half as tall as a man. Part of his left ear was missing, and his dark green flesh was criss-crossed with white scars. Deep-set red eyes twinkled expectantly. Bone trophies sounded hollowly against each other and against his iron mail as he strode forward. Each was so heavily carved that I couldn’t be sure what type of creature they’d come from. Shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to adjust the sit of his armor, he waited.
“Do you understand volkssprache?” I asked.
“Yes, I speak it,” he hissed. It was the first time I’d heard a goblin speak, and I wasn’t sure if it was an accent or a malign intent.
“How did you come to fight for Kirchner.”
“The bone mice beat up the tribes of the Hookwood. Needed someone to knock heads when they acted up. I’m someone.”
“By ‘bone mice’ you mean Knochenmus?”
“You repeat yourself,” Cralx said. I tried not to get annoyed. It was clear some of the subtleties of the language escaped him.
“So Knochenmus told you to march south.”
Cralx nodded.
“So, you’re willing to follow a lord that isn’t a goblin.”
“A strong lord makes the tribes rich. A weak lord makes the tribes dead. A strong lord need not be a goblin chief.”
“I just defeated your current lord.”
“Not enough to become new overlord,” Cralx said. “It means new lord can take the place. Fight among tribes will soon begin.”
“How many tribes will come to my banner?” I asked, garnering odd looks from the crowd.
“The tribes here will. Those north…” Cralx shrugged.
“Fine. Tell your kin that I intend to contest the post of overlord. They can either fight for me, or face a less pleasant fate.”
Cralx lowered himself to one knee and said, “I choose to fight for you.”
I motioned for Straub to remove Cralx from the pasture.
“Are you sure about this?” Soren asked.
“If the goblins in the Slagveld willingly march north, I won’t have to spend a lot of lives killing them. If not, I’m no worse off.”
With the precedent and rationale set, dealing with the remaining prisoners boiled down to establishing identity and to which category they belonged. There were very few executions.
[69] The ‘Celler Castle’ is an underground fortification built into one of the larger caves of the Slagveld. It has never been taken by force of arms.
[70] In some areas, the use of Ministerialis instead of subinfeudated vassals is preferred due to the greater control granted the liege in the relationship. Though socially noble, they were legally serfs, and had much the same restrictions, though better living conditions.
If you want your own copy, the whole book is available from Amazon in eBook, Paperback, and Hardcover variants.
A First for the homies.
*pours out a 40*
Stal Feyblooded is in a spot of bother. Manner of execution wasn’t mentioned, which is fine. My guess is… headsmans axe.
Is there an equivalent status in a more familiar context? I’m afraid the only comparison I can come up with is “house workers.”
It took me ages to try to parse the historical ministerialis, because I had such a hard time getting my own brain around “unfree nobility”
Reminds me of the slave ministers and soldiery of the Ruling Institution of the Ottomans. A man could rise quite high in the counsels of the Sultan and become quite rich, but he was still property, subject to punishment or execution at his owner’s whim.
This wasn’t the final chapter, was it?
Not as long as fan fic is a thing
Cralx and I will be in my bunk.
…
Way to make things weird.
Shush, now. Craix and I are gonna get cray-cray, ya hear?
Your IPs gonna be up its ass in a moment anyhoo. *unzips with vigor*
There is one more installment
Continued from earlier. The quirks around Ubiquiti are like promised features never delivered, bugs not fixed, and planned obsolescence. Any of the forums or subreddits devoted to Ubiquiti will highlight those from time to time. I’d say it’s prosumer range at prosumer prices.
Amazon Prime has live streaming channels. Which includes classic Doctor Who, Outer Limits, Buffy, and so much more. How did I not know this until getting a Fire tv?
I don’t know what a Fire TV is but I’m assuming there’s an app for that…?
But yeah, I’m not falling for that. They lure you in with Who and Buffy and then they will pull it away like that bitch Lucy.
I watch Top Gear and early-years Mythbusters that way.
There is a show I miss.
(Uh… MythBusters.)
It was really good. I was in high school 2001-05, adding to my contention the 90s were the best decade to grow up in.
I’ve long thought UCS and Hyneman are spirit animals.
Kari Byron is also…many things to me. I’d be in my bunk, but it’s occupied, and she’s got her own VIP villa.
I can’t pull off the walrus look.
They were a pretty decent decade to attend college in too.
Hell, I just miss the 90s.
…
Now I’m seeing that the last MythBusters episodes aired in 2018??
That seems… later than I remembmer.
I was sorry that the new MythBusters hosts selected after Jamie and Adam stepped away didn’t seem to last. I liked them.
They didn’t have the same chemistry.
I have no memory of that either.
To be fair, I blanked out a lot of the teen years but sheesh not that much.
rhy, after it was announced that Jamie and Adam were leaving, there was a competition show that ran for several episodes where several contestants vied to become the next MB hosts. Two guys won, but their version of the show didn’t run for very long – maybe about 14 episodes, as far as I can tell. It’s true they didn’t have Jamie & Adam’s chemistry (frankly, I often found Adam annoying,) but given more time, they might have developed their own.
And, even thought the two of them had chemistry, in real life they didn’t like each other. Respected? Yes. Liked? No.
Adam’s youtube channel is fun, and he talks a lot about this. On the other hand, the three on TopGear are still friends, and show up in each others worlds.
Grant, the chick, and that other dude were my favorites anyway.
Jamie and Adam were both kind of dicks.
No idea of new dudes. Adam and Jamie had obvious straight / comedic man chem goin’.
Grant’s the best engineer, Tori’s good enough at most things, and Kari’s there for art and to be cute.
Apparently the Top Gear crew is getting back together. I think it’s likely a Friendly $$ Transfer for Jezza to help the other two, as he’s obviously in much larger demand. Oddly, he’s one of few ‘strangers’ I’d feel sad about when they expire. He’s a good write and I like where his mind’s at. Clarkson’s Farm is bloody-fucking fantastic. New season in May, IIRC. Getting the ‘rents into it, guiding them into my worlds.
My only foray into that universe is the toy shows James May did – so good. A blink and miss it kind of thing stateside, I think.
I loved his Lego wall. And his flowered shirts.
Good work with dialogue on this. Among other bits, I particularly liked this chapter for some reason.
“Any possessions held of your own accord from a different source or in allodium will not be impacted.” <– This bit of Fan Service pleased me.
I've always loved the little goblin minions in stories. (And in real life, especially when said serf is either myself or lithe females to my preference.) I appreciate this li'l guy for his honesty and devotion to the cause. Your interests, perhaps simply not dying, are a noble cause. Perhaps more of your leanings leaking to the reader.
*Tipps Capp, Andy's equally useless sibling*
Oh! “You repeat yourself,” Cralx said.”
Got a chuckle out of me.
https://x.com/CitizenFreePres/status/1901467862625116236
Some French guy in the French Parliament wants the US to return the Statue of Liberty.
I say give it back, and put a giant statue of a woman flipping the bird at Europe in its place.
Give us back the bones of Lafayette.
And the tens of thousands who fell in order to allow you to speak French and not German.
We can’t give a statue dedicated to liberty to a country which is dedicated to a mix of authoritarianism and sharia.
Was it this guy? https://youtu.be/FWBUl7oT9sA?si=0Vtroe84JOB0tEZx
Enh, if they take all the poor, huddled masses yearning to extract my tax dollars I’m OK with this.
Only once we modify it with a bulge.
Bart’s Inner Child is on TV. Fuck. It nails its mockery of the nascent Identity Crisis agenda. 1993: Self-help guru Brad Goodman praises Bart’s irreverent attitude and encourages his followers to emulate Bart’s care-free antics. Soon everyone in Springfield starts to act like Bart, who feels that his role as a troublemaker is usurped. After the inaugural “Do What You Feel Festival” ends in calamity and a riot as a result, the town decides to stop acting like Bart.
(James Brown also stars as himself.)
The ridicule came from inside the house… before the test balloons successfully launched.
“[Critic Nathan Rabin] adds that the episode “is also incredibly insightful about the ways 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐨-𝐨𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲, 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲.”‘
Drove up to the snow today. Dipshit Canadian curry eater waits until he loses traction and parks his semi in the travel lane of a two lane section to put on chains, ignoring the signs and chain up turnout before that. Fuckhead is wearing flip flops and shorts in the snow.
I was assured that Canadian truckers are all white supremacists.
Current orthodoxy states that one need not be white to be a white supremacist.
Happy Irish day, all you leprechauns.
🇮🇪☘️☕️
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GemKqzILV4w
🎶🎶
Deliberately not wearing green today….
Top o’ the morning to you, Sean & Ted’S.!
*grumble*
…and the rest of the day to you, U! 😉
Oh, yeah – dare I ask how you are?
I am annoyed at myself for my self-sabotaging refusal to get any sleep. I didn’t even try, so it is all my fault.
You’re in for a long work day! 😕
😭
This is how we learn.
suh’ fam
whats goody
Good morning, homey. How are you today?
Looking at a thrilling week in NE Ohio. Hopefully the forecast is accurate and we’ll have decent weather.
Good Morning to each and every Glib, lurker and gov rep!
Got a real estate guy coming this morning to look at the cabin and another piece of property. See if the New Prez’s financial trickle down has made it to the Northwoods yet.
Good morning, 4(20)! If one of those Twin Cities denizens wants your property, charge ’em double!
Hope Jimbo is not up this early. Maybe Tundra will want to return?
According the real estate guy the toughest part of the sale is having me for a neighbor.
Wish we could have charged the downstate type who bought our old place double.
Isn’t Jimbo still in Korea? It’s evening over there.
Jimbo’s on his way back at the end of the month
“The New Prez Trickle Down” is the name of the latest dance craze I invented.
They’re bringing back the Twist: Make America Gyrate Again.