The County of Rahlmont - Lore & Culture Thread

The story offered here takes place a month after the Battle for Tenarath.

A calming summer breeze is whistling through the branches of the tree above you, as the sun is westering and you find yourself tending to the horses. While feeding an apple to your swaybacked palfrey, the sounds of laughter and cheering can be heard back from the campfire. Your travel companions seem to have set up for the night, and the cider is bringing them a good mood for once. On the morrow you expect to be at Hayford, the main trading center of the County, but until then some much needed rest is long overdue. On the outskirts of a great meadow, a few feet away from the rest of the group, you find a place where a bend in a brook has formed a pool and decide to lay down your sleeping bag there. Drifting away into slumber, you cannot help but think about your journey. It is considered to be more or less safe down here, as the southern areas remained largely unaffected by the civil war. But it's hard to say what exactly one might expect when venturing further north, into the heart of Terenia. Everyone will tell you that living isn't easy, but it is never quite as hard as in times of war - and the ones traveling with you have little choice. You take a moment to look at them, not exactly menn cut out for war. Their fathers were farmers and wagonment and poachers, smiths and miners and oars on trading galleys. What do they know of fighting? There's coin to be made in the reserves, though most of them will pay dearly for it. But yet again, life is hard for them and some had no better options. You, on the other hand, were perfectly capable of declining Count Layne upon receiving his summons for a private audience. Still here you are, and as you ponder over that decision you barely notice yourself drifting into a steady sleep. On the next morrow, the meadow was a blue-green ribbon shining in the sun, and as the light hits your face you wake up to saddle your horse. You continue to ride further north, and you can feel the air growing more and more tense. After a while you actually encounter buildings and smaller hamlets, snug little thatch-roofed cottages surrounded by fields of wheat. Yet the folk there seem shut in and less welcoming to strangers. Lest you are flying the colors of a house they do not know whose side you're on. And thus your group continues along the path, and you find yourself wet in sudden rain that has soaked the ground. No doubt you have entered Rahlmont, as the territory appears to have been recently liberated by the Terenian army. In the distance you spy the ruins of an old watchtower, its stone a paler shade of grey, and around it remnants of a battle fought recently. The bodies have been tended to, and graves dug out, with merely some spears sticking out of the ground and shields with different coats of arms scattered across the field. A sight that makes the lads uneasy, but at least they won't stray from the path anymore. At a crossroads where the rain obscured the fields beyond everyone seems lost, but you still know the land clear enough in your memory. The Hayford marketplace was just beyond the hill across from them, and half a mile farther west a village, twenty something wooden cottaged surrounding a small Virtori sept. Above it all the fortress of Watcher's Rock stands guarding the County. You can make it out more clearly atop one of the taller cliffs along the mountains, as you make your way to the town gates of Hayford. It's hard not to notice how the place looks a lot different than during your last visit, in the days of the Romarians. A lot more bleak, for one. Gone are the flowers that were hanging from everywhere, the markets bursting with food, the summerwines so cheap and so good you could get drunk just by breathing them in. Now most of the wooden stalls at the market square lay deserted, with scarcely a few farmers or merchants selling their wares and haggling prices with the townsfolk. Some of the lads went to grab supplies for the road, one of them coming back with a melon shaped like his bald head. Most of them would like to get some rest, smiling at the tavern wenches that were standing beneath the sign of the Smoking Anvil, the local alehouse. Yet time is of the essence for you, so you convince them to continue on the road to Watcher's Rock. And with a little struggle, they abide. And so you leave in a haste, and quickly find the road up north to be wilder and more dangerous, climbing through rocky foothills and a thick forest into the Highterran Mountains, past high passes and deep chasms. Above the mountain valley, Watcher's Rock standa high and impregnable, its towers seemingly reaching for the sky. Its curtain walls appear to grow larger and larger as you approach, some of the guards have noticed your group but none of them has anything to say. You simply pass through the open gates.

Many of the menn gathered there were clad in chainmail and boiled leather, while sharpening their weapons - you can see daggers and dirks, scythes and axes, and here and there a sword. Some had made clubs from tree limbs, or carved knobby staffs. An uproarious crowd of them has gathered in the practice yard and indistinguishable shouting can be heard. You can see a shield with the golden dove of the Romarian Empire on it, burning in the middle of the yard and a crowd cheering it on. It's perfectly clear what they all want - they want Terenia, and they are prepared to fight for it. The rest of your travel companions are quick to approach the crowd and arm themselves as quickly as can be, and for a moment you're tempted to join them but then you spy two knights looking at you from over by the great hall entrance, where some of the soldiers were just coming out. It doesn't take long for the pair to start approaching you. One knight wears an intricate suit of white enameled scales, brilliant as a field of new-fallen snow, with silver chasings and clasps, that glitter wet from the rain. The tabard he's wearing displays the colors of House Layne. As he removes his hemlet, you can make out that he is an old man with hair as white as his armor, yet strong and graceful for his age. "Ah good day," he bows, "I am Sir William Krole and this here is Sir Taryk. We are sworn knights of the Sunrise Order, and we expected your arrival. " His companion is a man near twenty whose armor was steel plate of ashen grey. "Count Layne will be holding a speech here soon, but I know he will be pleased to see you when he returns. Please, accept my apologies for all the ruckus caused here today, but the lads are getting ready to march north to Airedale. The doves still hold some of the towns and holdfasts in the County, and we mean to drive them out for good!" You and the knights continue the conversation about recent events unfolding, until a sudden silence began to overtake the air and all gazes were set upon the wooden dais in the yard where Grenric Layne was slowly making his ascend. He is younger than you imagined him, twenty something, yet visibly injured. His left leg is limping, following along the right one as he rests his weight on a wooden cane. Under his fur cloak, the Count wears a surcoat quartered with the crossed blades of Terenia and the black falcon of Rahlmont. "My brethren," he straightens himself, and speaks in a loud commanding voice, "we all know why we are gathered here today. The romarian state is dead, and those who wish to see it restored can do so on their own merit. But never again will they lay claim on Terenia, this I vow to you! the cheers burst all across, and all weapons seemed to be in the air at the time, "I believe that the ruling class ought not to bend the people to its will but rather bend itself to that will. To fulfill the basic duties of providing a safe living environment, fair opportunities and justice to its inhabitants. And most of all to enable them to live as they see fit, as free menn. That is what I mean to provide, and that is what I will fight for. All of us here are willing to fight for Terenia!" and "for Terenia!" was the answer he received in resounding clamor. You can hear him speak with disdain for the old Empire, and small wonder too. When the Romaria forces conquered these lands after the fall of Zygethia, House Layne was removed from power and lost everything just like Terenia lost its identity. The borders of the Duchy were non existent back then, and they all marched to the beat of the romarian drum. Being used as cheap labor forces and cannon fodder. You can even see some of the Brudvir packs from the Highterran mountains among the crowd, clad in helmets and bearskins, wielding battle axes and longswords. No doubt more fighting is coming in this bloody conflict that's brewing, one that you've not yet signed up for. It occurs to you that it's not too late to turn back and ride south to Demalion. There, Emperor Vaizer had recently united the lands under his rule and brought them a peace that will surely last. Peace in Terenia, however, would come at the price of bloodshed. That can be counted on.

As you notice Layne descending from the platform, whilst waving to the fired up masses, the older Knight pulls your arm and indicates that it is time to approach him. Sir Taryk had began organizing the fighting men into four strong companies, while Sir Krole takes the side of Count Layne as he addressed some of the folk that's come to gather around him. Aristocrats, judging by their clothing. For a split second your eyes meet and the Count offers you a warm smile, but just as you make your first step toward him you notice a man making his way past the guards. You recognize him, tall and ragged but strong as a trison for his years, with a shaved head and a windburnt face. He was one of your companions on the way here, but before you manage to get a word out he shoves the old knight aside and yanks at his blade's grip, pulling it from its scabbard. At that moment, it seems the Count can read the look on your eyes and quickly turns away. The swing of the blade was coming straight for his head, still Grenric lays on the unharmed on the ground, having dodged it in the last moment. And before anyone can even react to what just happened, you see Sir William lunging at the assailant, armed with nothing but a wooden club he must've picked up somewhere in his vicinity. "Boy! I believe you have something of mine." The old knight feints with one of the wooden stick, pulls it back, and whips the other end about faster than one would think for a mann of his age. The lad staggered back into the surf, spitting blood and broken teeth from the ruin of his mouth. Sir William put Grenric behind him, as the Count's still laying there with his leg in pain. The young man slashes at his face. The old knight jerks back with cat-like precision. His club thumped the man's rib, sending him reeling. Sir William Krole splashes sideways, parrying a looping cut, dancing away from the second and checking a third mid-swing. In that moment you manage to pull yourself together and move toward the Count. You manage to help him to his feet, and then you hear a loud crack. You think it's William's club that snapped until you see the jagged bone jutting from your former companion's calf. He twists and lunges as he's falling to the ground, sending the tip of his blade straight at the old knight's chest. William sweeps it aside, almost contemptuously and smashes the other end of his club against the man's temple. He went sprawling, blood bubbling from his mouth as the waves washed over him. A moment later all soldiers wash over him too, blades and stones and angry fists rising and falling in a frenzy. "Liar," he spits out blood and yells out words that are hard to make out from the loss of his teeth, "You're a liar, Layne! You promised us freedom and then sold us to the Demalions!" he keeps on weeping as the guards take him away, and you give the Count his cane so he can stand without support. "My Lord," the knight falls to the knees before his Count "I am an old man, and shamed. He should have never gotten close enough to seize your life. I did not notice how he crept up on me." But all Grenric did was put an arm on his shoulder. "You saved my life, William. Don't feel shame, for I absolve you of it." And then he strainghtens himself once more, "This treacherous sow will be dealt with accordingly, though first I must retreat. You, come with me." He points toward you, to your surprise, but before you are on your way Sir Taryk is quick to grab hold of your arm. "This one was seen entering the town with your attacker, my lord. We have some questions for you first!" But with one look from the Count, he was quick to remove his grip and lets you walk on.

You find yourself on the top floor of the Wind Keep, where Lord Grenric Layne took his refuge in a great round room with walls of pale grey stone, a balcony to the south and three tall narrow windows that look out to the three remaining points of the compass. In the center of the chamber is a great table, a slab of carved wood fashioned after the shape of Rahlmont. Its map was painted on the surface - castles, towns, lakes and forests. And while the yard outside was all noise and chaos, inside the thick stone walls it is still warm and quiet. Perhaps to quiet for your liking. Surrounded by his generals, there was scant noise to be heard until Grenric finally broke the silence. "I am truly sorry for what you had to witness earlier," he addresses you directly, * "we have agreed that once Terenia is freed from romarian influence, we would join the Demalion Empire, and you can see some people are less happy about that."* He frowns, but in that instant Sir William walks in holding a shaby bag in his hands. "My lord, you are mistaken. We've searched his belongings and this attack did not come from our midst." And he proceeds to empty its contents in front of the table - a half empty skin of wine, some leftover cannis rabbit from the other day and a melon. And between, a letter that displaying the seal of the Romarian Empire. Grenric is quick to grab hold of that letter and carefully read through it. "He was a dove. Smuggled himself here to end my life, stall our attack on Airedale. I can't believe this.. " he sighs, "they'll never stop, will they? Not until the name Terenia is wiped out from the pages of history. Well, not if I have a say in it." You see him stand up for a moment, with such determination that he didn't even need his cane at first but lastly he had to hold onto it. He approaches the fireplace that was behind him and throws in the letter, watching it go up in flames. "Duke Liacan and I are being called monsters by their lords, evil doers set on nothing but to take their land from them. The crow calls the raven black, and they lecture me about plundered soil!" the anger can be heard clearly in his voice, "All the while they loaf upon their fathers spoils, and make their wealth on the backs of the terenian people! This land is not theirs, it was never theirs to begin with. At first light of dawn, we ride for Airedale. Until then, leave me."* thus you, along with Sir Williamd your way toward the door before the Count gets to cut you off, "Not you!" and so the old knight and generals leave the two of you alone for the moment. "Despite all that happened, I am glad to have you with me here today. Gods know we'll need every set of able hands we can get to restore this County to its former glory. Please, join me.." The two of you walk over to the balcony, from which you can almost see Rahlmont in its entirety. The rain from earlier had passed, and has peaked from beneath the clouds and shines upon a river running down from the mountains of Highterran, through a fertile valley of green woodlands, past stout holdfasts and towns that slowly appear to be thriving again. "Beautiful, isn't it?" Grenric speaks in a sullen tone, "I'm ashamed to admit it, but I've little recollection left of Rahlmont until I marched the terenian army down here a few weeks past. I was born here, aye.. but things were getting bad, and a working farmer could hardly afford to feed his own family. So we moved to Tenarath when me and my brother were very little. That was when a mann took me out from the slums and made me what I am today. His name was Demiqas Liacan, and he wanted nothing more than to see Terenia restored to what it once was. Oh, the passion and the conviction driving him - it was inspiring to me. To this day, I would still follow him off a cliff." You spend some time speaking about the history of this realm, and the Count leaves for a brief moment, returning with a smile on his face and two cups of wine poured for each of you. "It pains me, this war. Truly," the smile did not last very long, "when I see brothers take up arms against each other and spill blood over this. Divided into factions. It makes one wonder if it could've been avoided. Yet sadly the answer remains no, not without losing everything we hold dear." His hand reaches into his pocket, revealing a golden pin with the falcon of House Layne. "I only wish that all people could see clearly what we are fighting for. Emperor Vaizer is not an enemy of Terenia, on the contrary, we've rarely had a greater friend at such a turbulent time in our history. He's even willing to support us with troops, and accept Terenia as a Duchy of the Demalion Empire. It would be like in the old days of Zygethia, but better. It would be our own land, with our own army and its borders in tact. With freedom to live accordingly to our ways, to pass laws and govern from Tenarath as was always the custom. But more than anything, we could have a peace that would last for centuries. It's.. it's almost hard to imagine sometimes, but with the right people at our side we can do this. Not only the ones that will fight, but those that will work, create, foster trade. We can create something great, but only with good people by our side, believing in that cause." He reaches out to you with his hand, offering the golden pin. "So.. what say ye? Will you join me in the restoration of this once great County?"