Arcaea/Dining Hall/The Obstinate Peasants of Obtal
The snow was coming down harder, the further north they traveled. It did nothing to stifle the warm glow eminating from Peter's large heart. He was filled with pride, and joyousness in the wake of the last message he had received...It was from his Queen, herself after all. The very same woman that had taken him in, as the Duchess of Remton, just 2 seasons before, and given him a new home.
He tried not to let his feelings show to his men, as he knew, as the letter said, he was second in line. Sir Taglied had first dibs on the new appointment. He had also heard that the current Count of Obtal, Ingvar Ignatius, had just turned the region over. Would this Ingvar fellow remain the Count of Obtal? All the various scenarios played through his head along the journey. His hopes were high, but he tried to contain himself, as there was every reason to believe that he would not be appointed as the new Count, but that didn't bother him at all. His Queen had thought well enough of him to offer the appointment, and this alone was what had him in such a state.
He had written back to her, how much in awe he was for the offer. Arcaeans had taken him in and treated him like family, yet for some reason, he still felt like an outsider...until now. Now he truly felt what it was to be an Arcaean. Whether he got the appointment or not, he truly felt that he was ...home. And for that we was forever grateful.
Peter Outman (Knight of Remton)
Please. No more Police work in Obtal. I'm begging you. If you can to Civil work, this will restore the region much faster. I know this is harder on the moral of your troops, but police work is ruining Obtals' moral, productivity, and loyalty, while Civil work is increasing all three. Respectfully
Peter Outman Count of Obtal
Crushing the letter in his hand, Aerywyn struggled to contain his rage at the apparent stupidity of this man. Tossing the crushed words into the fire, he ordered his horse saddled in preperation to come to Peter face to face. The brown mare would do for this trip.
He had ridden out from Nocaneb in order to aid the region and people of Obtal, and to check upon the shipments of food that kept on going missing. But now that he was here the true extent of the situation and the lack of co-ordination amongst the nobles here was so clearly evident. Rebels were plotting in the streets themselves, forming militias left and right, and all through it the bandits were growing ever more confident. A small band had even dared to waylay his mounted company on the way past!
Aerywyn mounted the calm mare and rode hard for the estates of Lord Peter, the fading sunlight glinting off the steel of the hilt of his bastard sword, kept loose in the scabbard in case he was waylaid by another warband of scruffians. Finally after a few long minutes he could see the cluster of houses in the lay of a valley, the sunset framed agaisnt the tallest and most majestic (although the constant warfare had obviously taken it's toll, and many buildings no longer stood).
He gave the guards no time to act. His long brown hair almost floated as he spun round to face the soldier who had questioned his hasty appearance, the man stunned into silence by the cold, heartless gaze he was confronted by.
"Where is Lord Outman?", Aerywyn asked all too calmly.
The guard merely pointed a shaking hand, which the frightening lord followed. After finding Peter, Aerywyn strode in like storm clouds silently drifting overhead. He leveled the same, piercing blue eyes at Peter, though at his sides his hand was clenched in a fist.
"I... recommeded to you and the council that the best option was to suppress any talks of revolution and independance with ruthless vigour", he stated quietly and restrained. "Yet now, with open rebellion rearing its ugly head across the fields and chaos reigning across the province, you think we should rebuild?". His voice was rising now. "We have lost 20 bushels of food alone in the past week due to bandit raids on wagon trains. The people are getting used to the idea that they can merely throw the lord out and proclaim their own rule, can you hear it? Can you hear it, Lord Outman?!?".
Aerywyn panted heavily, regaining his breath.
"Give us permission to arrest and hang as many of these bastards as possible, or the privelage of choosing will be taken from you".
Aerywyn Haerthorne Banker of Arcaea
Peter looked up from his desk as a clearly agitated Lord Haerthorne flew into the his chamber with wild eyes, and started to berate him about his previous correspondence.
"Lord Haerthorne, so nice of you to drop by. Please sit down, and calm yourself." Peter motioned to the chair at Aerywyn's side, but he made no move to be seated.
"Am I to take it that you are unhappy with the way in which I have decided to conduct the rebuilding of this region?" Peter did not wait for a reply.
"I understand that there are still rebels in the area. I understand that sympathy to Arcaea is very low. I understand that production and moral are low. In short Sir, I am not an idiot, who makes these requests lightly. Nor did I say that no further police work would be conducted.
What Is clear Lord Haerthorne, is that too much police work is being performed, the peasants that are willing to accept Arcaean rule are being hasseled by the police, which is increasing their distrust of us.
They show much greater sympathy to us when they see that we are helping them rebuild the region, repair the roads, and infrastructure. Their moral, production, and loyalty increase much more rapidly through civil work than through policing.
In actuality so much police work is being done, that it is actually hampering our efforts. If my men are doing police work, while others are doing civil repairs, I believe we will have found a good balance to maximize our efficiency in the overall goal of converting Obtal to a thriving, happy, contributing region for the realm.
That is why I have made this request. It doesn't really matter if it's my men or your that do the police work, so long as not everyone is harrassing the loyal peasants we do have, and no real effort to repair the region is seen by the people. Have I made myself clear, or do you wish to further question my abilities?"
Peter's blood was hot, he could feel the heat on his cheeks, but he remained as calm, cool, and collected as he could through his little speech until he got to the last sentence. He knew he was inexperienced, but he knew how to read the reports that were right in front of him. He knew what he was doing was sound. He didn't like being questioned, when he knew he was right. He awaited Aerywyn's reply. He had hoped he got his message across as he intended.
Peter Outman Count of Obtal
Apparently caught off guard by Peter's response, or perhaps the manner in which it was delivered, Aerywyn did not respond right away. To be more sure of himself Peter added,
"Need I also remind you of the manner in which we are now in control of this region? We did not come in here and take it by force. The former Count, Ingvar, turned the region over to us. The peasant may be very suspicious of us from their time under Sartanian rule, however, they do not hate us for attacking, burning, and killing in from them."
Peter was quite sure of himself now. He felt as though even during his short time here, he could feel the pulse of the people, and how to win their support. He leaned back in his chair and again awaited Lord Aerywyn's response.
Peter Outman Count of Obtal
Aerywyn's eyes remained hard as he listened to what Peter had to say, his brow raised as the man continued to describe his view. Eventually, all he could do was sigh and sit himself down in a nearby chair.
"Peter, you do not understand, do you? These people were starving when they came to us, starving and angry at their own lords. But remember that the Sartanians hate us Arcaeans, and why? Because for three score years we have been at war on and off, and I don't think you understand how much of this damage is our fault. We are not the kind ones to them, but the invading hordes."
Obtal is now ours yet we do not control Obtal. We are merely a small army sitting here, and if we start rebuilding the infrastructure here, it will not matter. There will still be those who see it as us trying to benefit from their sorrow; by repairing the fields and the houses they percieve that we are trying to get them back to work."
His eyes flashed, and Aerywyn rose to his feet and gestured to an open window with a view onto the fields and hills surrounding the small village.
"You speak of hurting loyal peasants, when they are only about a few hundred tired, half-hearted men and women, too downtrodden to raise their weary hands in violence. The fact is that by patrolling the streets, keeping order in this small village, checking on the outlying hamlets, we are doing very little indeed."
Aerywyn trailed off, looking down guiltily at his feet. His face was etched with sadness at what he was proposing, but wasn't this what war had always been about? Never had Arcaea condoned slaughtering peasants in the many raids conducted in his time, and yet Aerywyn had found the people here to hate them with extreme prejudice, calling them rapists and murderers from a safe distance, cowering and begging for life when a baffled soldier drew near. The timbers of the windowsill were rough to his hands and blackened in other places, the evidence of recent repairs. He drew forth a splinter from his hand, watching the red prick slowly well up through the fair, callused skin.
"I am no more inclined to this as you are, and yet it seems to be our only option. We have tried to act as caretakers, and that has only made them think we are weak... I am sorry but you are an idealistic fool if you believe turning our soldiers into mules will impress the locals. If you are to hold court, your court must be firmly in your control."
"The insurgents must be punished, to set an example to all."
Aerywyn Haerthorne Banker of Arcaea
Peter looked down at the reports, then down at his hands. He had been so sure he was right. He looked to the window and saw the horror Aerywyn was warning him against, unfold before his very eyes.
An angry mob had gathered just outside. Peter's heart began to ache. How had he misjudged these people, he was here to help them, but they couldn't see past their years of bitterness.
He searched himself for answers. This was why, why he had always preferred to make camp in the woods, when stationed in towns. He was a man of the woods, not a man of the streets. He should have known that this was not his place, but he wanted so to give back to this realm he now called home, and had called him their own. He was a fool after all.
He collapsed back into his chair, the sounds of the mob growing louder. Aerywyn, shot him a glare. It shot through Peter like a knife. He jumped up from his chair, and the two of them made their exit unscathed by the horses that waited just outside. Peter looked over his shoulder as they rode on. This would mark the end of his days as Count of anything. He would return to what he knew best, the forests and battlefields, and want for nothing more. This was how he could best serve his realm.
Peter Outman (Lord)
Sleeping that night, Peter had a dream. In his dream he saw a vision that compelled him. He saw himself once more as the Count of Obtal, leading his men into battle at the front lines, in his own region, against the spectre of a far off war against Lasenar. He could see the onslaught quelled as he ordered his men to flank the enemy. He could see that he had not yet full-filled his destiny, or paid back his devotion to his new realm.
Peter awoke renewed. More confident now and sure of himself. As a messenger approached, he ordered his Captain to continue the distasteful work of arresting and hanging rebels. Then he turned to read the messages that had been brought by the messenger.
The first, a message from Duchess Edara. He opened it hesitantly, he figured that she would recall him to Nocaneb to face charges for bungling the conversion of Obtal, so feebly.
As he read on, he could not believe his own eyes. The Duchess, was going to re-appoint him as Count of Obtal after-all, and even send him a paper-mancy advisor. He marvelled at his good fortune, and at the steadfast comradery and support he had found here among the good people of Arcaea. It was truly a magnificent Realm. He vowed that he would not fail them this time.
Peter Outman Count of Obtal
It was almost miraculous. Everyone had been right, and he had been wrong. Peter had only hung about 2 dozen rebels by this point, but the effects had been overwhelmingly positive.
The infrastructure was getting better, yes, but more than that, he could feel a different tone to the people as he passed them on the street. Now they knew he meant business. Now he would not be gotten rid of so easily. Now they began to accept that they were going to be ruled by Arcaea, and that perhaps it was not such a bad destiny after all.
Loyal peasants that did not join in with the angry mob, who were friendly enough before, now looked at him differently, still in friendship, but now there was also something more...respect. He hated that he was brought to hanging people to get that respect, he had hoped that he could earn it in less detestable ways, but now he understood what all the others had been telling him. That, which he was not yet ready to bring himself to do, was not only necessary, but demanded by the people themselves.
They were testing him, to see if he was strong enough to fight for them, or if he would flee and leave them when times got hard. With his return, they had their answer, and a new local ruler. Now, they too would accept him.
Peter Outman Count of Obtal
