De Haguns Family/Orpheu/The Knight moves his pieces

CERISE MOVES A CHESS PIECE, ORPHEU MOVES ANOTHER

The Knight was recovering from the wound he received at the skirmish in Montauban, but his right calf was still weak. He could not walk by himself, for now.

The peasants who had rescued him arranged a small wooden staff for Orpheu, and he tried walking with it. Slowly, he could once again feel his balance.

When he had first left his estate to travel to the City of Lions, he had thought he would cross its gate atop Thunderlight, leading his Silver Guard. Now, he would cross them pulling the stallion by his its reins, and supported by a wooden cane.

Orpheu insisted on leaving the cart and walking the rest of the way towards the capital, once he saw it from the distance. At least he would not cross it inside a farmer’s cart, hurt. Bad luck.

He saw some men camping outside the city as he approached it. Some of the tents were far away from each other, some closer, bigger, smaller, all dotting the surroundings of the great city. He saw some banners he knew, fresh faces of young recruits, wounded being tended for, nobles drilling their soldiers.

Slowly, the knight limped through the road, followed by the horse.

He stopped when he saw a very familiar banner.

Near a camp, the silver dragon of the Haguns was flying proudly. He looked puzzled and approached the camp.

A man not much older than him was drilling troops that were clad in heavy armor, square shields and swords. Spears were at their feet. They raised their shields in a defensive wall, then slashed against imaginary forces, then raised their shields again as they kneeled on the grass, grabbing the spears and piercing their invisible adversaries, all while keeping formation.

The man himself had blonde dirty hair, but Orpheu could not recognize him. When he spoke, however, his voice had a commanding tone he knew very well. He was both relieved and worried.

“Guido? Guido Aumerle?”, asked Orpheu, approaching the young man.

Cerise’s older brother turned and seemed surprised as he saw the knight. “Orpheu? I thought you were with the Army by the coast… what happened?”, said the young man, going towards him to help the knight.

Guido was a good man, despite being Cerise’s brother. Orpheu had taken a liking to him ever since they had met years ago, when the betrothal between the Haguns and Aumerle Houses was announced. The third older brother, he had not become a knight, but was a capable officer and intelligent man. He kept most to himself, was discrete and calm.

The knight told him of everything from Woolton up until this moment and Guido nodded, as he knew about the defeat.

“What are you doing here, my brother? Why are you wearing my House colors?”

“Orpheu, the report of the battle reached the Mines and both your brother and Cerise were very worried about you. They heard how your troops were decimated in the battle… your brother arranged the funding to recruit more experienced troops, veterans from other wars and sent them to rally in Perdan, as most troops are now. And I am here because Cerise convinced our father and your brother to send me to drill them and act as their captain until you arrived, if you wish to have me by your side.”

A spy. That cunning little spider… She plays her cards well, thought the Knight. Indeed, Orpheu was now in a difficult position. With Guido as his guard captain, it would be unfair for him to refuse his services, and would even cast a shadow of doubt on the Knight of the Perdan Mines's intentions. It would be a dishonor for the Aumerles, something he wished to avoid after that incident with his runaway cousin Furiae. After Woolton, better to let the man stay, he would be useful. But Orpheu knew that with the Aumerle brother lurking, it would be very difficult to keep his liaison with Thea, once she returned.

“Anything else on the battle that you heard, Guido?”

“Some nobles were captured by Perleone, but we don’t know who they were.”

“Very well. Guido, please see that a man gives water and food to my horse. Then, meet me in my tent, and bring a scribe.”

Orpheu nodded and limped through the camp towards the main pavilion as his new soldiers kept training. He retrieved a letter from his leather satchel and took a long look at it. The letter that he had received soon after the battle of Woolton, from someone he would never imagine. And a very intriguing letter, to say the least. The circumstances were mystical and Orpheu was most certain that the bond that had been created with that person was due to the magic that had been made before the battle… or perhaps the work of the wind goddesses.

What he planned was bold, and risky, but if his plan succeeded, he would have many nobles in the realm in debt with him. And he needed political clout to advance the plans that were beginning to be born within his mind. After Woolton, he realized that there were other ways to play this game, just as Cerise had done. What if the pen was mightier than the sword, as some say? And he would take the risk, because he had nothing to lose now.

When Guido and the scribe arrived, they were perplexed by what they heard.

“To the…”, started the Knight, as he dictated the letter.

If his plot would come to fruition and result in anything, only time would tell.

Hours later, the Knight limped through the bustling streets of the City of Lions, the rustic wooden staff changed for a long oak cane with a silver pommel, as would befit a much older man. The knight was young, only seventeen, and the cane attracts glances from the crowd, but he simply did not care.

By now he was mostly recovered, but the limp persisted, although less noticeable than before.

Laststar

As soon as he received word from his informant stationed within the city's militia about the return of the city's ducal liege; Oliver immediately dropped the card game he was in the middle of hustling and dashed away from the open-air cafe and onto the street—what was once a peaceful springtime air was suddenly filled with cries of alarm and expletives following after the young lord. His fine white cotton shirts and silken jacket was going to end up in a disarray after all the time he spent arranging his morning outfit just right.

On the street ahead of him was an unfamiliar nobleman limping along with a cane, seeming too young to ever need a crutch, but Oliver didn't care. As the Lord of Nascot ran by he shoved at the apparent cripple from behind if the man didn't move in time, Orpheu, and yelled over his shoulder, "Get out of the way you fool!"

He had a duchess to go see.

De Haguns

Clack, clack, clack, clack, the Knight was beyond himself as he limped his way through Perdan City, his silver pommeled wooden cane echoing through the cobblestone roads loudly.

He had recovered almost entirely from his wound in the skirmish, though a small limp was still lingering.

By now he could walk normally without the cane, but after the whole affair in Woolton, in which he and his unit retreated just as the battle began, he thought it best to fake that his injury had been far worse, and that he would require a cane to walk for a while. That way, thought the young knight, he could defend himself against accusations of cowardice by claiming to have bled for Perdan and suffering a terrible wound due to the misfortunes of war. Eventually, he thought, he would “recover” fully and return to active duty without the cane.

Still, he thought himself very elegant and even dashing with his stylish cane as he forced his limp through the city. He recalled seeing those venerable elders in the Mines, silent, respectable and contemplative as they spelled gems of wisdom while holding their canes in balance. Now, after his brilliant stunt of diplomatic expertise, felt that the cane gave him an authoritative figure, and fancied himself a master of statecraft.

But he was not euphoric for this, but rather for the letters he had received after his unusual approach to diplomacy. It seemed to be a success, from the letters he had received!

Despite the “Prisoner Agreement” between the realms and the possible dealings of sanctioned diplomats to ensure the release of the perdanese prisoners, something he thought might be happening behind the scenes, the young knight lost no time in trying to prove that his unorthodox approach to diplomacy was responsible for the release of the prisoners, including his duchess. The trick was to spin his pleading letter publicly to all nobles as a decisive factor and hope for the best.

He laughed as he thought about all that. Normally calm and reserved, his clack, clack, clack through the streets seemed to him like rhythmic ballad of triumphant marching band, and he was the conqueror of peace. Passing through the statue of King Smiddich Fontaine, he pondered if he should have a statue of himself built in the Mines… or maybe Perdan himself? A memento to celebrate this grand achievement.

He imagined that sculpture of himself, cane in one hand, shoulders back and spine straight, looking dashingly and boldly towards the horizon, rising a feather instead of a sword. At his feet, swords and shields would lie. Across him, a lioness being released from her chains. He envisioned how the feather would be directed towards the chains. Its symbolism was so potent, the feather mightier than the sword!

But still, before Orpheu could think of any statue, he would need coins, and many coins, to support this artistic endeavor. And as he claimed no reward, he found his plans would have to wait…

Haguns could see the ducal palace as he approached. Finally, he would have some rest, his own chamber there, finally a warm bed and cushions after Woolton.

His triumph was interrupted, and the knight found himself on his knees, as a tall man, about his height, rushed past him and called him a fool. A fellow nobleman, none the less, by his attire. Some of the cobblestones that covered the road moved due to the violence Orpheu fell. The public stood still, observing his reaction, as he grabbed one of the cobblestones and threw it towards Oliver’s direction, missing it badly.

The knight immediately forgot about his fake affected limp and jumped back to his feet, rising his cane furiously. The crowd gasped in surprise, more due to this almost athletic performance than from the violence he had suffered as he was shoved. Some of the peasants started exclaiming “the cobblestones must have healing powers! The cripple is walking as if nothing happened!”.

“Bloody scoundrel, I will crush your skull!”, roared the knight, in a very unfamiliar anger to him. Had he had this during the battle of Woolton, perhaps things would be different. But no, this man had to interrupt his daydreaming glories, so he would suffer the wrath of his cane in his head.

The knight rushed in pursuit of his attacker, and the people rushed towards the streets, trying to grab as many of the healing magical cobblestones they could.

Laststar

Warning: mild violence.

Oliver cleared the crowd and shouts coming up behind him, ignoring for the moment whatever frenzy the common folks and even the more simpler thinking low nobles were starting to fight over; not that their little squabbles ever mattered to him. The palace was steadily looming bigger and bigger as he ran on, he grinned with the ideas of all what he'll say and do when Oliver finally reached Aila's court.

There was a more distinct shout that suddenly arose; louder and much closer than all the others. A death threat? Oliver was surprised to look back and see some well-dressed noble kid he didn't recognize chasing after him in a fury waving a cane like a sword. Who was that? Likely another young hot-blooded noble who was going to raise a feud over a scandalized girlfriend. Not that it mattered to him much, but if this teenager was going to get in his way over seeing the duchess, his pursuer had another thing coming.

Frustratingly, Oliver had to stop on the street and turn to face his attacker, assuming a neutral and bored posture much like he had to deal with this often enough; and Oliver had to, his care-free adventurous lifestyle left a wake of angry husbands behind him. His attacker was about as tall as him, lanky, but still looked very green judging by how the rage was easily consuming the young man's mind.

As Orpheu closed in, rising to strike Oliver over the head with his fingers tightening on the cane; Oliver's battle training took over and he suddenly broke out of his bored pose, snatching Orpheu's forearm in a strong grip and punching the young man deep in the stomach with his other fist to knock the wind out of him. Yet Oliver's momentum did not stop, and like through all the boughts he had done in the sandy training arenas, he powered through and with a twist he shoved Orpheu away from him back onto the cobblestones.

His attacker defeated, Oliver steps in and plants his boot hard into Orpheu's gut, twisting it cruelly this way and that; while blowing a long strand of hair out of his face.

Another crowd of people were beginning to gawk at them admist all the trees and greenery along the palace's main thruway; Oliver gave the passerbys a cheery wave and smile, before looking back down at Orpheu with a contemptuous look. "I figure this is all over your hussy of a fiancé or your wenching-disposed wife." Oliver didn't recognize this was the young man he just shoved over only a minute ago. "No. She didn't tell me she was in a relationship. She approached me first. And no I don't remember her name either, not that I care to know." He sighs, this random noble was getting in way of his day. "It was unwise to attack Oliver Laststar, of Perdan's Valiants—this could be regarded as a crime against the nobility of the realm you know."

Goldwater

“Earl Nascot?”

Jacelyn and his two companions finally made their way through the crowd and overlooked the scenery with a mixture of confusion and disdain displayed on their faces. They were not far away when they overheard the commotion and immediately went that way to inspect what was going on so close to the castle.

His gaze finally shifted to the man lying on the ground and his eyes widened for a moment, as he recognized the defeated knight.

“What is the meaning of this?” His voice cold and harsh, he quickly closed the distance separating him from the two nobles, looking in turns at both Oliver and Orpheu.

“Knights brawling on the street like common folk, in times of war? Don’t you have any sense of duty and judgement?”

De Haguns

The Knight of the Perdan Mines lay defeated, and flashbacks came to his mind. He was once again laying in the gentle hills of Brive, embraced by the lilies, his right calf bleeding. Now, however, instead of lilies, cobblestones and the boot of Laststar made him company, and his wound was his pride.

He gasped for air and reached his hands to try and force the man’s hard boot from his gut, but could hardly. He muttered a small “Help” and mustered enough strength to lift Laststar before rolling away from him, breathing heavily and eyes widened with surprise. He had not expected this unfortunate turn of events. And least of all, he did not expect that to be the Lord Laststar.

His cane lay across him, close to Oliver, broken in two pieces. It had broken under the pressure of the impact against the ground.

His eyes swung between Jacelyn and Oliver, and Orpheu tried to rise two times from the ground, but failed, still breathing heavily. On his third attempt, he rose, and placed his hands shoulder high, palms against the two men, as if asking for time to gain time before he could speak, and to cease any hostilities.

“Well, Lord Laststar”, he started, still agitated, but trying to control himself, “it seems we have finally met.” He stopped again, breathing heavily, but soon he found it easier to speak again. “Not under ideal circumstances, I am afraid. For I am the Knight of the Perdan Mines, sir Orpheu de Haguns.”

He had been defeated in battle. But he still had his voice to make his case.

“I believe there is a misunderstanding here, my lords. I did not initiate this… altercation, but rather the Earl of Nascot, when he shoved me through the streets, as I limped with my cane after being wounded in battle towards the ducal palace. And he called me a fool when he threw me to the ground!”, complained Orpheu. “Who of noble blood would accept such treatment? Not me, not the Lord Laststar, certainly not you, Marshal Goldwater.”

He then turned to Oliver and said seriously. “My lord, this is as it is. There is… nothing concerning any woman”, frowned the knight, as he continued. “You shoved me across the street, I sought retribution. And you defeated me when I came to defend myself, I cannot deny it. I am willing to let this pass, as you have done a great service for the country and are a war hero, Lord Laststar, something I believe I once said in one of my letters.” It was better to try and soften this man with pleasantries, massaging his ego than to escalate into a feud.

Orpheu suddenly forgot he had been limping throughout the streets and walked normally towards Jacelyn, gesturing for him to approach. “Marshal Goldwater, see this not as a bloody feud, but as a demonstration of the valor of two brave nobles who sought to defend their honor after a misunderstanding that I consider now… solved after Lord Laststar valiant victory, do not you agree, my lord?”, he said, this time asking the Earl of Nascot.

In truth, Orpheu wanted to call him an oaf and villain, a scoundrel and imbecile brute moments ago, and crush his skull with his now defunct wooden cane, but he knew that he had more in common with Lord Laststar than divergences. And he knew well when to give up on a fight he could not win, especially if there was nothing to gain from aggravating more the situation.