Of the Scipii Family/Aulus Severus/The Death of Sir Bernard Mercer

The Death Of Sir Bernard Mercer, Knight Of Oberndorf

Roleplay from Dabrun Mowbray

Evening, Trinbar.

A light snow was falling, covering the dead in a blanket of white like the hand of some great, sad god obscuring a sight too horrible for the world to behold. Only the vague outline of men and the larger ones of horses still lying where they had fallen and the shapes of spears, swords and other instruments of war jutting out of the frozen ground were the only hints as to what had taken place here.

In a makeshift camp on the border of Tabost laid the makeshift camp of the western invaders. All through the encampment the wails and moans of the wounded and dying were heard, entwining to form a single voice to the rider approaching, reminding him of a mourner grieving for his loved one.

As he made his way through the ragged camp atop his horse leading a mottled charger, the gray and sullen footsoldiers eyed him balefully, and more than once swords were drawn at the sight of the colours and heraldry of Sirion bedecking his mount. Only the sharply barked orders of their captains - reluctant though they were - kept them from lynching the rider on the spot. They certainly thought little of the white scarf bound to his lance.

Dabrun's squire gave no outward sign of his nervousness as he dismounted and asked for the directions to the camp of Aulus Severus of the Scipii at one of the more seemly officer's tents.

After a short ride the squire approached the blue and yellow tent of the Count and asked the guard posted there to deliver the package and warhorse he brought to his superior, after which he turned his horse and rode at a measured trot back to whence he had came. After watching the rider trace his path back through the camp for a while, the guardsman spit on the ground, growled something unintelligible and looked at the package. It was heavy and about an arm's length, wrapped in a kind of exquisite cloth. It seemed to pose no apparent danger, and he figured that there was no harm in presenting the package to the Count.

Inside the tent, Aulus stood mulling over a map of Sirion and the surrounding regions, still putting the finishing touches to his plan of retreat from the battleground. He gave no outward sign of acknowledging the soldier who stood for a while in uncomfortable silence, unsure if his announcement was important enough to interrupt his master's strategizing.

"Yes?" Aulus finally snapped, looking up from his map at the unwanted guest. His eyes were tired and tinged with red from several days without sleep and the dual strains of defeat and retreat weighing on his mind, the two things all generals despise above everything else. "Package for you, sir," the guardsman said, uneasily. Aulus took the wrap from him without a word and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. The guard stepped back outside briskly, holding back a sigh of relief until he had closed the tentflap behind him.

Aulus was prepared to discard the package and return to his planning, but a quick glance at it grabbed his attention. The wrapping seemed familliar to him, though he could not place exactly where he had seen it before. Carefully cutting the string keeping the silk furled, he unrolled it slowly. As he was unwrapping the package, he knew why it had roused his interest. It was the tabard of his former knight Bernard Mercer, spotted with dried blood and sporting a large gash in the front, level with the heart. He ran his hand over the insignia of Fontan, sliced almost clearly in half and obscured by great clumps of gore. A stark reminder of what had transpired that morning. A deep furrow appeared in Aulus' brow. Inside was the sword of the deceased knight, wiped clean and polished to a sheen, but sporting several notches from the duel that had ended his young life. A short letter was tied around the pommel, and Aulus tore it off with an impatient gesture and quickly scanned the note. It read:

"To Sir Aulus Severus of the Scipii, Minister of Defense of Fontan, Count of Oberndorf, Ambassador of Fontan.

Hail! I have instructed my squire to bring you the sword, mount and insignia of the late sir Bernard Mercer, who fell valiantly in duel against me. A man can ask for no nobler end. His shield I have kept, to hang above the mantle in my castle. I assure you that heads of bull and deer have no place there, for only the sport of war is enlivening and challenging enough to warrant the taking of such trophies.

With respect, Count Dabrun Mowbray of Hillmar"

Aulus crumpled the note in his hand and threw it on the ground. He had plans to see to.