[Mkguild] M Story - Taking Account part 1

[christian okane]

Here is a new Metamor Keep story. For all the rest you can find them on the
MK archive at http://metamorkeep.com/

Please feel free to make comments and suggestions!

 

Chris

The Lurking Fox

 

Taking Account

by Christian O'Kane

 

 

Late March CR708

 

   The carriage swayed back and forth as it jolted along the road. The
driver did his best to avoid the worst of the ruts with only limited
success.

 

   The man in the seat tried to find a more comfortable position. He bore
the black robes and collar of an Ecclesia priest with only one extra
decoration to distinguish him from a parish priest; around his neck he bore
a golden cross as a medallion. But even that belied his true position.  For
this man with firm eyes, weathered sun-beaten brow and black hair turning to
gray was a Patriarchal legate personally appointed by the leader of the
Ecclesia to be his representative.  Only the sealed parchment in his hands
signed by the Patriarch, and the signet ring he had hidden within the folds
of his cassock, revealed this.

 

   Seated across from the legate was a tall bearded man wearing a set of
plate armor which clanked with every jostling tilt of the wagon. Draped over
the armor was a tabard of deep blue with a gold Follower cross on front and
back. The heraldry marked him as a knight of the Order of Protectors. He was
Sir Jacob Harrick, Senior Knight Commander of the order and second only to
Knight Master Kenward. "My apologies, Father. The roads are not in the best
of shape at this time of year."

 

   "Do I smell," the legate paused and sniffed the air, eyes noting the
mountains, once in the distance, but now pressing close to their right
flank, "Flowers?"

 

   Sir Harrick smiled, revealing a missing tooth, and nodded. "Oh yes. The
mustard flowers have just come into bloom." He pointed out the left window
to a large field in the midst of the hills that dominated the landscape; the
field was covered like a quilt with bright yellow flowers.

 

   Everywhere he looked the man saw the bright yellow flowers growing. "So
you grow and harvest the mustard plant?"

 

   "Oh yes, Father. And the entire plant is used. The seeds we use as a
spice, the leaves are chopped or ground up, the stalks are pressed for their
oil and the flowers are used to make yellow dye." The knight could not hide
a bit of pride and delight in his voice as he spoke. "The order makes
considerable profit by that little plant. Nearly three-quarters of the
order's money comes from those fields."

 

   "And that allows the order its independence from feudal levies?" The
legate asked, though he already knew the answer.

 

   "Yes," Harrick replied with another nod. "Money has brought down many
otherwise good people. These fields allow us to pursue our mission without
having to pander to every nobleman with a sack of gold. Also, I think being
involved with horticulture reminds the order of what we're here for and
teaches us humility."

 

   The legate smiled and then folded his hands in his lap. "And that is why
our monastic orders always cultivate the land near their monasteries. Humble
work is good for the soul." He tapped his thumbs together and then gestured
with his chin at the field. "I see that you have many more laying fallow."

 

   "We would have more fields flowering if we could stop all the raiders
from Sathmore," Harrick added darkly, his brow furrowing as he stared at the
barren fields beyond the sea of yellow blossoms.

 

   The legate glanced at the knight. "How often do they attack?"

 

   "It varies with the seasons. With all this good weather the raids are
often once a week. Most other winters there are few attacks at all except on
the Yule. The Lightbringers always attack on the Yuletide day itself."

 

   "The Order of the Protectors raids into Sathmore as well," the legate
noted as drily as if he were remarking upon the weather, his eyes never
leaving the broad fields, and rolling hills rising up either side.

 

   "Of course," Harrick replied curtly. "It is the only way to prevent even
more raiding. They must be kept off-balance, or they will do the same to
us."

 

   "And do you raid into Sathmore on the Lightbringer holy days?" The legate
asked slowly without taking his eyes off of the fields.

 

   Harrick's expression softened. "No. We have in the past, but Knightmaster
Lathane put a stop to that. Attacking on a holy day, even if it isn't ours,
seems," the knight paused for a moment and bore a pained look. "It seems
wrong. A sacrilege."

 

   The legate had to grab his seat as the carriage jolted to a halt. Harrick
never shifted in his seat.

 

   "Cantel Roegh," the knight declared and gestured out the window.  A short
distance away, framed by the peaks of the Sathmore range, legate saw a large
castle brooding on a massive hill that towered over all the others nearby.
"A fortress of the Order of Protecters since the year 615, Cristos
Reckoning."

 

   "Who held the castle before then?"

 

   "The Order of the Shields held the fortress before they were forced to
relinquish it," the knight explained. "They seized it from a Sathmore
nobleman and held it for a long time before being ordered to give it to our
order. They refused to give up the castle and it's lands easily. It took a
direct order from the Patriarch for them to finally leave. Even so they
stripped the entire complex bare and were taking out the window frames and
removing the roof tiles before the cardinal ordered them to stop."

 

   The legate gazed at the castle for a moment. It was an impressive
structure with two curtain walls, one within the other and a tall keep tower
at the center. All done in a fine red brick that gave the place it's name.
"We have heard rumors of continuing tension between the two orders. What of
them?"

 

   The knights face grew sad for a moment. "Sadly, they are all too true.
I've heard it said that the best thing between the two orders is the
Sathmore mountains."

 

   The legate gave the castle one last look before returning to his seat.
The carriage resumed its journey up the road toward the castle a moment
later. "Has that hostility ever come to blows?"

 

   "No," came the swift response. "At least nothing beyond a fist fight. To
be honest Father, the two orders have little contact. The distance between
us is too great."

 

  "Unfortunate in both regards. Your orders ought to cooperate in the
Ecclesia's work as do many of the other knightly orders."The father said.

 

   "Agreed but when I said the distance between them is too great I meant it
literally," the knight explained. "The nearest order of the Shield fortress
is over two hundred leagues from here." He waved a hand off to the south.

 

   The legate nodded with a sour expression. "That is a far distance."

 

   "It's one of the reasons we were given Cantel Roegh," the knight added.
"It was too far from the Shield's other possessions for them to control
properly."

 

   "I see," the legate said slowly, tapping his thumbs together as he
pondered Harrick's words. "The Protectors holding this fortress makes
perfect sense. How large an area does the order control?"

 

   "We have as our domain all of the Midlands and our headquarters is at
Chough castle. That is in the Southern Midlands on the eastern slopes of the
Sathmore mountains," the knight answered.

 

   The legate nodded. "I see but does it not strain your order trying to
control such a vast place with so few brothers?"

 

   "It does," Harrick admitted. "We do what we can with what we have. And we
are the only group large enough to maintain a fortress like this. Most of
the border is held by a large number of nobles who each control only a small
area. Some are more worried about their Midlands neighbors than Sathmore.
And even the most dedicated can only realistically control a small area."

 

   "All too true. Often he nobles have been their own worst enemies; and all
too often creating divisions and hatreds where there shouldn't be."

 

   "This border region has seen far too much violence over the years," the
knight explained. "With the Sea of Stars on one side and the Sathmore
mountains on the other it's a natural invasion route. Anyone wanting to
invade Sathmore and Pyralis must pass through here." He pointed off to the
east. "The battle of Brundolo took place a mere 10 miles from here. And the
ruins of a legion fortress are only three miles from here. And being the
border between Sathmore and the Midlands makes it worse. Warfare is a daily
occurrence here sometimes. This land has a history drenched in blood."

 

 

********************

 

 

  Sir Edmund Delacot stood in the Duke's antechamber waiting quietly. The
cheetah morph paladin was dressed in a tunic and pants both colored a deep
blue. Embroidered onto the front of his tunic was a gold cross. He stood
with a stiffness and a rigidity that was far removed from his usual casual
manner and bearing. When the doors opened he marched into the audience
chamber with the crisp, military, precision of a soldier on parade.

 

   He found Duke Thomas Hassan seated on his throne looking regal and
solemn. The black stallion morph nodded in greeting.

 

   "Duke Thomas Hassan I am Edmund Philip Delacot, a Knight Commander of the
Order of Protectors and I am here as an official representative of the order
and the Knightmaster," he said in a calm and serious tone. Edmund extended
his arm towards the duke. In his hand was a brown envelope. "This is an
official message for Duke Thomas alone."

 

   Thomas slowly reached out and took the envelope. It was made of a thick,
hard, paper that was almost like cardboard. The seal on the back was in blue
wax and had a single cross as the emblem pressed into it. The Duke opened
the envelope and found a neatly folded letter inside.

 

   "Lord Thomas Hassan, Duke of Metamor and the Northern Midlands.

 

   Greetings and salutations,

 

   I hope this missive finds you and you wife in good health. My heartiest
congratulations and best wishes on your recent marriage. I wish to inform
your eminence that the order that I am privileged to lead has recently
acquired a small tract of property in the Northern Midlands. It is a small
castle and the village of Fulgar. We hope that our moving into this new
location will be of mutual benefit to all and to help bring stability in
these unsettled times. My sincere apologies for not being able to bring this
news to you in person. Events here prevent me from traveling far but Edmund
Delacot who has delivered this message has my full confidence and is my
representative. You can discuss things with him in the assurance of his
having my full authority to act in my place.

 

   Sincerely,

Godric Neville Kenward

Knightmaster Order of the Protectors"

 

   Thomas placed the letter down on the table next to him. "What do you mean
the order is moving into my area? And where exactly IS Fulgar?"

 

   "It is exactly twenty four miles north west of the town of Komley,"
Edmund responded crisply,

 

   Thomas nodded his head slowly. "I see. And exactly how did the order come
into possession of an entire town and castle?"

 

   "We bought it," the feline paladin responded simply.

 

   "Bought it?" Thomas asked. Surprised.

 

   "The noble family that owned it has few possessions in the Northern
Midlands and wanted to consolidate in Pyralis," Edmund explained. "They
offered it to the Order of the Shields but those good fellows do not have
jurisdiction in the Midlands. So that order directed them to us. And the
Order of Protectors was happy to purchase the place."

 

   Thomas gave a neigh of laughter. "That seems convoluted."

 

   Edmund nodded his head. "Everything involving politics is confusing and
convoluted. The order has been looking to expand its presence in the North
since Winter Assault occurred. This offer came at the right time to be most
beneficial."

 

   "Why does the order think it necessary to move into my domain?" Thomas
said coldly. 

 

   "There are certain elements who are not going to be happy about the Order
moving into that area permanently." Edmund said. "Meaning Midtown and Lord
Donel?"

 

   Thomas leaned back in his chair. "Donel is trying to expand his power and
will take the order's interference poorly. I can understand his unease. I do
not like outsiders interfering in my affairs." 

 

   "Donel and his greed are the reason the order bought the place," Edmund
answered honestly. There was a touch of disgust in his voice. "We are aware
of the trouble he has been causing locally. And we want to keep an eye on
his antics. The Midlands has enough problems without him causing more."

 

   "You know a lot about my diplomatic and political problems," Thomas said.
He was staring at the feline with the cold and calculating look.

 

   If the look bothered Edmund it didn't show. He remained cold if a little
stiff. Aware of the formal nature of the meeting he refused to really relax.
"I'm a wandering Brother of the order of Protectors. That means my anointed
task is to help bring peace and stability to the Midlands. I have spent my
entire time as a brother dealing with criminals, bandits and greedy and
overly ambitious nobles."

 

   Thomas held up the letter he had in his hand. "Why should I allow this?"

 

   "The order has no political, geological or financial ambitions," Edmund
explained. "We are here to keep the peace."

 

   "The order hasn't talked or communicated with me in a long time. You are
their first representative to the Dukes of Metamor in thirty years." Thomas
dropped the letter back onto the table.

 

   "The reason you haven't had much contact with the order is that we've had
no reason to bother you," the feline knight explained. "You've been a good
and fair ruler. Like most of the dukes of Metamor."

 

   The duke looked at Edmund for a moment. "Thank you. Why suddenly do you
feel it's necessary to be so involved in Northern Midlands affairs?"

 

   "Recent events has forced the order to reconsider its handling of affairs
here in the north," the paladin responded slowly. "And ALL of the Midlands
is our responsibility."

 

   "I see. I've heard of the events that happened in the Outer and southern
Midlands," the equine said.

 

   The paladin slowly nodded his head. "It's unsettling. One reason we've
never had a large presence here in the north is that the Dukes of Metamor
have done a fine job of keeping the peace," Edmund explained. "We don't want
to see that change. One of the reasons for this fortress is to keep an eye
on Midtown, Menth and Sorin. It's also to be able to send support here to
Metamor if it's needed. Things in the north are changing and we need stay
appraised of what happens in the Giantdowns. And to be honest the Yule
assault on the keep caught us off guard. It made us realize how badly we
have been neglecting this region."

 

   "So you decided to just move into my territory and correct things?" The
stallion responded in angry terms.

 

   The paladin leaned closer. "Our acquisition of this place is legitimate
and honorable."

 

   "It is only legitimate if I, the Duke decide it is," Thomas said coldly.

 

   Edmund shook his head. "No. You can't stop us from taking it over. Your
power in that region has deteriorated. If you still had full control there
the order wouldn't need to take over the castle."

 

   The duke sighed. "I have enough political troubles without the order
adding more complications."

 

   "We're not here to complicate matters. We are here to help stabilize
things. To prevent the mayhem and havoc that have so recently rocked the
rest of the Midlands. With our help you can restore your power and stabilize
the Northern Midlands again. So Metamor can concentrate on the true threats
to the north. In the year I have been here have I or my people caused any
trouble?"

 

   Edmund leaned closer. "We are not the enemy Thomas. Please don't make us
into your enemy. Together we can help restore the Dukes of Metamor to great
power and help bring a true peace to the whole land."

 

   "If I allow this people will see it as a sign of weakness and think I am
incapable of defending myself or that I truly cannot even manage affairs in
my own lands," Thomas snorted. "I cannot allow that."

 

   "They already see you as weak," Edmund responded. "Once the Dukes
controlled all of the Midlands. Now all you really have power over is the
valley and a few miles beyond it. And to many the Yule attack shows you as
weak. You allowed an enemy to sneak into your very home and catch you off
guard."

 

   Thomas stood up straight and snorted hard several times. "WE did not
allow anyone to attack us. And we defeated the invaders. Their corpses
litter the valley. It shows how good we are at defending ourselves." He
stomped his hooves on the floor.

 

   "I know that," Edmund said, unmoved by the large stallion's display. "The
order knows that but your enemies are using it as an excuse." He paused for
a moment and then leaned even closer to the duke. When he spoke it was in a
soft conspiratorial whisper. "We have heard rumors. Ugly ones. We ignored
such rumors in the past and the result was the recent unpleasantness. We
will not make that mistake again. We need to deal with this while it is
small."

 

   "The dukes have been good leaders. You are a good leader," he said. "But
even a good leader needs help and good allies. The Order of Protectors can
be those allies. We can help you."

 

   "I do not want enemies," the equine Duke said slowly. "But I have an
entire kingdom to think about. A decision made in haste can lead to
countless troubles later on. I need to ponder this and will give you my
answer tomorrow."

 

 

*********************

 

 

   "I wish we had been told earlier of your coming here," the knight said
with a sudden narrowing of his eyes. "Had we been forewarned of your arrival
we would have waited. But thankfully the meeting only just started today."

 

   "Meeting?" The legate asked with the first genuine note of surprise
entering his voice. "What meeting is this?"

 

   "Knight Master Kenward has called all the Knight Commanders here. All of
the high Brothers actually to discuss the recent unpleasantness in the
Southern Midlands."

 

   The look of surprise vanished and an officious expression took its place.
His voice was cold with reprimand. "You mean the civil war and your orders
failure to act?" 

 

   Harrick fixed the legate with a hard stare filled with anger and fury.
"Father," he said in clipped and official tones, "I am under strict orders
to not discuss that with anyone until the matter is resolved."

 

   "You mean while the Order devises a way to escape punishment for its
crimes of negligence," he said.

 

   "FATHER!" The knight growled half standing up. For a moment the legate
was sure the man would lash out at him but he sat down with a thump that
rocked the whole carriage. "This conversation is at an end," he said simply
and turned his head away.

 

   To the legate's embarrassment, one hand had clutched the hem of his
cassock tightly. Nevertheless, he drew himself together and stared at the
knight, a man twice his size and far more capable of snapping him in half
than he'd rather admit. "No. This conversation is not over."

 

   "I am under orders, Father. I will say nothing."

 

   "You Order swears fealty and obedience to the Patriarch.  I am here as
the Patriarch's personal representative.  You are to obey me as you would
obey him." The legate kept his gaze, cool and fixed, planted firmly upon the
knight's face.  Harrick tensed at those words, but finally, his glance slid
back toward the priest; defiance briefly flared to life, but training
stilled and humbled it. "The conversation ends when I decide it ends."

 

   "Very well, Father. But there is not much you will hear now that you will
not hear in greater detail later."

 

   "Your Order failed to act, either on your own account, or even at the
behest of Duke Verdane, to intervene in the civil war. What has your Order
gathered here to discuss?"

 

   Harrick ground his teeth together. "We're here to discuss why we failed
and what to do about it, Father."

 

   The legate nodded and then leaned back in his seat as the carriage
continued its bumpy way up the road to the castle. "That is good. I shall
wait to hear more when your Order meets."

 

   Harrick grunted and turned his grateful head back to contemplation of the
mountains.  Neither spoke another word and the rest of the trip was made in
silence.

 

 

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