[RP] Mercia's Trail Mix meets Aggnes

OOC: Open to those who can find a way here, ive opened it to council the "enemy" and the regiment more can be around. Please do not derail the discussion though.

Alastair rode at the front of the party, all of Mercia's council bar Maggie had turned out with a complement of the regiment. Carriage, horse, or pony they rode out to where the latest intel was of the rogue army.

Spying a small army camp on the horizon Alastair slowed the party, descending to the small camp. As they approached he nodded to Deekay then to Katen and Logan. Worried for friends and family, he raised his horn to his lips and gave a short blast to announce their arrival.

Raising his arms to show he wasnt armed for a charge or similar, he awaited a response from those within the camp, or at least the commander Aggnes.
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End of my journey....

At the entrance to the fence around the neatly-erected tents was a wagon with a sign on it proclaiming it to provide "Hott Fud and Ale", and a man with a number of boxes, who looked up with a hopeful expression at their arrival. "Get your army souvenirs here! Flags of the Second Mercian Regiment, army caps with official badges , and for the kiddies, souvenir Army Bears! Look, each one has its own toy sword! All with the arms of either Mercia or the Baroness of Bury - why not buy one of each? All quality Roadside Goods Emporium products, never knowingly undersold! "

"Erm, Fred." A second man emerged from behind the "Hott Fud and Ale" wagon. "I thought you said this was supposed to be secret? That's why I'm not selling any food and ale, remember, 'cos there's no-one in the army yet except us clerks?"

"Doesn't matter, a customer is a customer, and very welcome you are too, ladies and gentlemen." He looked at them thoughtfully. "Charlie, go and tell Her she's got visitors. In the meantime, what can I do for you fine people? I do a nice line in hats..."

The commander's tent was, like all the others, seriously second-hand, and had rips in the side that looked remarkably as if a cannon-ball had hit it at one point and the patching had been done in haste. As a result, drafts kept coming through it and disarranging Aggnes' paperwork.

She added an extra rock to the existing paperweights, and pulled the next Requisition Order towards her, wondering as she did so if Maggie had any idea how much work it took to set up an army single-handed. Probably not, since the previous day she'd actually asked Aggnes to help out with the government offices as well as doing this. Mayor and Sheriff - that was a lot of work, and Aggnes had a nasty feeling that both jobs were being handled in a manner that by her own admittedly exacting standards wasn't all that good.

Keeping it secret, though - something odd going on there. Not that Aggnes was too worried, a request from a Councillor was a request from a Councillor, and she didn't need to know more - "need to know" had always been a sound military principle, and as long as she got her money back at a decent interest rate, she would be happy.

Fifty tents.... at least she'd been able to get a decent price for them, thanks to contacts in Carlisle. She might even make a better profit than she'd hoped, an incompetent mayor was always useful, an incompetent Sheriff was even better, and having them both the same person and needing a grant-holder was potential riches beyond dreams! Unless, of course, whatever had led Maggie to insist that the army stayed secret got messy.

Outside, she heard a faint horn blast, and frowned. That didn't sound like something she wanted outside a "secret" camp. Had Fred been getting over-enthusiastic about advertising again?

The arrival of a panting Charlie, and his message, told her all she needed to know - far more than she wanted to know, in fact. She sighed, put all papers in safe piles, and pulled on a cloak, checking her appearance carefully in the mirror hanging from one of the "wheel spokes" of the tent roof. Not too much grey showing in the red hair, bun neatly in place, business-like dress free of ink-stains. No headdress, but the she'd never liked the injunctions of the Church anyway. She really couldn't be bothered finding the Baroness' coronet. Sharp green eyes looked back at her approvingly from the glass. She'd do.

There did seem to be rather a lot of people there at the gates - she recognised many, but didn't see the one she expected.

"Fred, shut up, please, this isn't the time or the place."

(OOC: if you want to post interaction with him before Aggnes gets there, do go ahead! I'll be online again in about 7 hours time)

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Council, I believe? Do I take it that the Sheriff's secrecy injunction has been overruled?"

(Quick OOC note to any novice RPers, since I gather we have some - that sentence is the only one you've heard. You can respond to that, you can respond to her appearance, you can respond to the obviously near-empty camp of very battered tents. The thoughts before that, you haven't heard, but they may give the players some idea where to take this. I know, for most of you I'm teaching granny to suck eggs )
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Vice Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Royal Embassy, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Wiki entry

Alastair heard Katen but kept his eyes on the scene ahead. The sight of the man hawking amidst such a travesty to the County, he turned his head and spat on the ground as he followed Deekay's lead dismounting.

Movement made Al spin, nearly falling head first to the floor as his right boot was still in the stirrup. With a colourful curse just loud enough for those around him to hear he straightened up and realised it was someone running into the camp, not running at them.

As Deekay wandered to the seller Al kept his distance waiting for someone that actually had to do with the army. You need a teddy to protect you when you have us strapping men and women Deekay? he teased almost forcibly as he was aware where they were.

Shortly after he saw the lady he already knew arrive, his intel was as detailed as can be for what was going on. As he was about to reply Katen beat him to it he smiled glad she was alert Secrecy? The only secrecy lifted is the one regarding your little illegal band of.... he looked around Tattered sheets, and ragabond merchants he didnt quite understand what had transpired, but he kept the trained face as best he could.
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End of my journey....

Al raised an eyebrow, began to speak, stopped, looked at the Count, Constable, salter, logan, katen, then deekay. It didn't make sense, he prepared for a fight, he prepared for a chase, but this.... woman treated him as an equal?

So you know who we are... yet you stand here talking? No confession, words of venom, betrayal or pleading? he turned to Oriames gesturing the carriage I must be confused, I thought this was Mercia, the city of Worcester where our only legal army has been destroyed and our poor trade minister barely recovers no less than 10 near fatal blows.

His face flushed, fodder? He turned and coughed. Not sure what the next step is, he was totally unprepared for this.
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End of my journey....

"Faheud, me lord. Though if you'd like a Viceroy set, we could commision one for you - naturally as a limited edition, the price would be a little higher, but think of the collectable value in years to come!"

Fred rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I get your drift, me lord. I'll see what I can do for you.

"Ah... right.." Fred looked worried, and glanced towards his leader perhaps in the hope of either inspiration or rescue. "Well, you'd be the one to know about that, me lord, but I'm sure when she's not so busy, Her Ladyship can explain."

"I think I'd have to push that to a guinea, me lord. Given the rarity of patellas, that is."
OOC: I don't use IG-currency names for purely RP transactions - yes, weird, I know.

"Ah - right. Yes, me lord, but she's busy talking to them other me-lords right now."

OOC: that sounds to me like it would wreck the timeline beyond repair, but if you can work it out, go ahead and god-mod Fred

Sometime during the event, from a considerable distance away, Regulus peered at the gathering through a rather primitive spyglass. He could make out a rather poor looking encampment and several figures in the distance, though only one person was recognizable- his Captain and only because of his...distinctive...hat.

"Looks like...just a tattered looking camp." Regulus said to his brother. "And the Captain's just conversing with someone. Maybe you should take this, you might be able to see better than me."

(OOC: May remove this upon request and/or if Jihb does not participate.)
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Arena Stats W:3 L:2 | Lord of Abergavenny |

Deekay had forgotten the quaintness that market traders employed. They still referred to coin minted in forgotten corners of the kingdom rather than refer to the currency decreed by his Majesty. Oddly members of one of his professions, the law, still used guineas, mainly to confuse their clients he thought.

He thought back to the tale of the lawyer who had billed his client
- Crossing the road to say good morning to you and finding it was someone else - 5 guineas

He reached for an extra five pence.

"A pound and a shilling, Sir. And you'd better make sure I get the patella in Lichfield. The poor saint looks foolish at present."

He looked over his shoulder. Alastair and the lady both looked uncomfortable. Perhaps that was a good thing.

"Thank you for the bears. Do you have some cloth to wrap them in?

Oh and you see my brother there, Lord Richy, He insists on wearing some sort of scent. It's like a mix of beer and iris. You can smell it from here, I think. If you can get him to wear something more subtle there's another crown in it for you."

He smiled and nodded to the trader. Turning, he walked to join the main group. He bowed his head in acknowledgement to Aggnes, but waited for a lull in conversation, rather than interrupt.
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Earl of Duffield Frith-Lord Privy Seal-Chancellor Archdiocese of Canterbury thx Fia

With his message run, and nothing much to do except try to avoid his boss' attention, Charlie spotted a target. A carriage - and its guards. Bored guards. Bored guards and ale often went well together. He
led the "Hott Fud and Ale" wagon in their direction.

"Lads? Fancy a pint while you wait? Only a groat a tankard."
He looked up at the carriage, and totally failed to recognise the arms on it. "Who's in there - think they'd fancy a drink? Got some wine here, the nobility like that."

There's also an odour coming from the wagon that's vaguely reminiscent of food....

They didn't seem to want his ale, they didn't want the soup, and they weren't answering his question... as customers went, he'd known worse, but he'd certainly known better. That was when he heard a noise from the carriage: a tap on the glass. He looked up, to see a face more beautiful than anything in his wildest dreams. (*) His knees started to wobble, and his jaw dropped. He picked it up back up enough to let his trained instincts take over the conversation, since his brain seemed to have stopped dead. "m'Lady.... would you care for some chicken soup?"

Listening to what his mouth was saying, it did occur to him that
a) that possiblywasn't the best chat-up line in the world
b) the chicken soup was only so-called because it was intended to be fed to chickens, not because it contained any, and a Noble Lady could probably detect this.

(*) This may be literal truth, or it may be the effect of distorting glass and Charlie's taste in women. Only Ori can tell us.

They'd erected all the tents. They'd built the "palisade" - well, after a fashion, and Bob had to admit that finding a use for all those ladders was a bonus. The latest challenge, though...

"She said she wanted a flagpole. She said she'd provide a self-assembly flag-pole. What we've got is something that used to be a mast before a harbour master only hired half the labourers needed to ship it, and it broke."

They looked at it, doubtfully. "Can we fix it?"

"Yes, we can!" Bob had spotted rather a lot of rope - well, bunting intended for the victory celebrations, but that would do. "Pass me one of those ladders, and start winding string..."

Not all that much later, really, they were pulling on the ropes to raise the flagpole into position, and anchoring the guy lines. "There!"

It would perhaps have been clearer that it was a flagpole if it had had a flag.

"Did she say what flag to fly?"

"Don't think so. She was looking through the colour catalogues this morning, but I don't think she'd made a decision. We should ask."

"Yes.... you're going to do that, right?"

They looked over at their employer, who did not look as if she wanted to be interrupted, and did not seem to be in a good mood.

"Later, maybe. Wouldn't want to interrupt. We should test out the ale, make sure it's up to army standards."

Charlie thought, frantically. What had gone into the chicken swill that he could admit to? The sight of her lovely pale skin was distracting him - must be a Noble Lady to have skin like that.

"Erm... herbs, m'Lady. An' some pork as well as the chicken." There was no way he was going to admit to the total absence of chicken. "The delicate bits of the pork, sweetbreads an' brains an' all that. So it don't, like, overpower the taste of the chicken."

What went into the sausages was described as "genuine pig products", and he was pretty sure some of the offal in question had made it into the soup by mistake.

For a moment, Aggnes almost felt sympathy for the Captain, despite his hat - she had her own opinions about incompetence in colleagues and subordinates, preferably involving bullwhips or possibly kill-lists. She did also wonder when Count Syrus would be here, but presumably he was too busy praying, or something equally useful.

"As I say, I did wonder - but the Sheriff was the one on the spot, and would eventually be the one providing the funds, so it made a certain amount of sense. I have to admit that having watched your Council at work for a while, the idea that half of you had no clue what your jobs involved or how to do them did have a certain amount of evidence to back it up."

She looked back at the neat, if under-populated, field behind her. "Still, mismanaged or not, you have a potential County army. Pay up for the set-up costs, provide any required troops if you want it to be more than a shell, and it's all yours. Any preference about flag colour?"

She was almost starting to believe the cover story herself - keeping it very nearly true helped - well, the preference for the County to take it over was true, now the original plan had evaporated! Believing it herself was the best way to sound convincing, she knew. If she could convince herself that Charlie's "hot fudd" was edible well enough to sell the stuff, she could do this.... she had to do this, or she stood to lose rather a lot of money.
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Vice Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Royal Embassy, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Wiki entry

She was late - though she preferred to think of it as fashionably late. Somehow she lost track of time between cleaning her sword and going through her coffers finding that last piece of gold. And she MIGHT have had a drink or two. Three. Ok, Nine. But then again, she had a good reason to have had nine drinks before breakfast, and she lost count after breakfast. So those didn't count, right?

A deal was a deal, and Flame had brought every penny she agreed on with Aggnes. Plus, as agreed, Aggnes would raise her own flag, representing... eh... Well something very important to Aggnes that she completely forgot.

Stealthily she approached the army from the back side and slipped in between the tents. It was hard to find Aggy's tent, for all looked alike and carrying a heavy bag of gold was a lot more tiring than she had anticipated. Therefore Flame decided it would be a good idea to test all the beds in order to find Aggy's tent. The first five beds were awfully hard and uncomfortable but the sixth one she tried was nice and soft and smelled of the strange combination of iron and lavender. It was so comfortable that Flame considered a quick power nap, but taking a quick look around her she realized that this was the tent she was looking for! Now, if only the owner would be around...

Papers seemed to be scattered all over the place, without any order in it, and an almost constant gust of wind played with the flaps of the tent. In the corner Flame found a very fancy metal object. It looked like a crown of sorts, and grinning like a child she put it on her head. It was placed slightly crooked on her copper coloured curls, and she looked rather silly wearing it. 'Ohhh, purdy purdy purdy,' she murmured to herself while she sauntered out of the tent again. If Aggy wasn't here, surely Fred or Charlie would know where she was. It was just not a smart thing to pass those two with all the money she had on her.

But when she reached the Hott Fud stand, she didn't see what she expected. Small alarm bells went of in her head, but luckily the buzz of the drinks she had had earlier silenced the bells. They were annoying anyway.

"Hey Aggy, hey Al," she waved happily while she approached them.

((OOC. I tend to RP with my NPC, who is the exact same person as my character. See Flame as her pirate nickname. I will respond to the use of my mask name and that of my character name IC.))

Regulus takes the spyglass back and merely throws it away.

"It's a rather shoddy spyglass, aye. I'm wondering if we should just go there. Unarmed, of course. It all looks peaceful thus far and we may be of more help than just standing here. What say you? "
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Arena Stats W:3 L:2 | Lord of Abergavenny |

"Excuse me one moment."
Bob and his team seemed to have been drawing straws, and now one of them was approaching. A brief semi-technical report followed, and a question to which she had decided to give her own answer. "The green one, please. A Green Flag seems appropriate."

It was, after all, the flag of the Roadside Rescue branch of the R.G.E. All right, so maybe they did have a sub-branch of their own that put the rocks in the road that caused the rescues to be needed, but you had to stimulate trade somehow, didn't you?

OOC: yes, I do like to keep RP and IG in line. Flag raised.
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Vice Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Royal Embassy, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Wiki entry

Richy was merely in his Judge's Office in the County Courts, when a horn sounded. What was this ruckus? He demanded an answer! It was distracting him from concentrating on the court cases. He looked out the wide-spanning glass window behind his desk to see a bunch of green uniforms. It was impossible to tell who they were so far away. The horn had ceased. Richy decided to not go through the trouble of investigating and returned to his observation. He was frustrated with all the cases that had been occurring lately. ‘Just once he would appreciate if the citizens of Mercia acted nicely to each other. But no..torment the Judge, the peasants say!’ Richy thought to himself. He looked at his watch and noticed time had flown by. It had been at least an hour or so since he had heard the roar of a horn outside. Prior to that, he had been working several hours. He shook his head and decided to take a break. As he rose from his comfy, leather seat, a servant barged into his quarters yelling, "Mi'lord! Mi'lord! Have you heard the news?!"
Richy sighed, sat back down and planted his face into his hands.

"I honestly am in no mood for your silly games. Be gone."

The servant seemed frustrated, but of course Richy never cared. "But, Sire, this is important! The Captain, the Sheriff, and I believe your own brother are negotiating with the Enemy at our gates. Ye are the Chancellor, remember? So it is your du-" The servant squealed as he was hit by a wide law book.

"I know who I am! And I know what I am supposed to do! Good Jah, this county is so needy. The mines..council business...incompetent ambassadors. Gagh! Prepare my horse and ring the toll bells. They must be informed of my coming."
"Lord Dorchester, surely ye are aware that the toll bells are only to be used if a criminal has been given the death penalty?" The servant questioned. Richy scolded him with a fierce look and barked,

"I know. I am not as incompetent as the Bailiff. Ring the bell twice. At least it will get their attention." The servant bowed alleging to the Lord's request. "Yes, my Lord." He muttered as he ran off to do the Chancellor's bidding.

Richy sighed and arose from his seat to take one more glare out the window. He grabbed a special glass of his and looked through its transparent body. They were definitely soldiers, alright. He left his office with his quilt still wet laying on the papers. He jaunted through the hallways and finally came to the exit.

"Your horse, my Lord." The Servant explained.
Richy nodded and threw 3 pence his way. He mounted his mare and launched for the masses. As individuals became more clear to him, Richy heard the Court’s Toll Bell sound. He grinned, pleased with his servant’s obedience. He noted that he had to pay him a special visit in the distant future. Princess, his trusted steed, kept galloping through the crowd as Richy shrieked the words, ”Clear the way! Very Important Person coming through! Damn peasants..”
He arrived at the point with his fellow Councillors and a lady representing the Enemy.

”Ye all couldn’t bloody ‘ell tell me there was a negotiation occurring?” He growled then noticed his brother then Logan simply standing like a tree next to Al. Richy pushed his way to the lady which apparently was Aggnes.
”Greetings, I am Baron Richy James William Silver Dorchester. Judge of Mercia. Chancellor of Mercia Embassy. All diplomatic talks go through me, firsthand, missy.”
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Lord Justice: Court of Appeals | Chancellor of England | Archdeacon of Canterbury | Deacon of Derby | Baron of Brockhampton | President: Law Society

Despite the fading of the tents, the field seemed to have plenty of colour. Alastair's uniform, apart from the hat, a curious green colour in Oriames' carriage, and the brightness of the stall. Then it was as though all the colours were turned off. Lord Lordrichy pushed his way through the throng, wearing a robe of extraordinary colours.

Deekay groaned inwardly. If anyone could insert a silver-shod foot into a gold-rimmed mouth it was his dear half-brother. And risking him take over negotiations .. well this woman would eat him for breakfast.

He quickly grabbed at his brother's arm.

"Brother. I thought you were busy with all these trials going on. We are just dealing with a minor matter here. Lady Aggnes has got lost on the road. Alastair and I were just giving her directions. Out of County. By the way, I know it was a good walk in, but was it so good you had to say it twice?

He pointed.

"You see that gentleman over there. He is some sort of diplomat. Ambassador of ... the Leeward Isles. You should welcome him. And he does a good line in stuffed bears. He might even have something more in your line."
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Earl of Duffield Frith-Lord Privy Seal-Chancellor Archdiocese of Canterbury thx Fia

"Councillor Deekay. I've been following your work in the law courts. All very civil and restrained, admirably so under the circumstances. Yes, I was here as a tourist originally, but you know how it is, a little trading on the side always seems to happen somehow. It's been very peaceful, a nice little nostalgia trip, seeing a county run roughly the way Lancashire was, about - oh, two years ago? Three?"

She tried to keep her tone light and pleasant, idle chit-chat, hiding what she was really feeling. Her daughter... she'd been trying not to think about her daughter. Her daughter had been put in command of an army by people she'd trusted, followed the orders of people she'd trusted, and been a headless corpse a few weeks later. Aggnes did not intend to go the same way, and not trusting anyone, ever, about anything, was a good start.
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Vice Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Royal Embassy, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Wiki entry

Al wondered if she truly thought they would buy an army... an army that can be bought? Before he could respond a red headed.... he felt generous and assigned lady to his description appeared. If not for the surroundings, her casual attitude and her intent he would possibly have been smitten. A smile almost creased his features, then he chided himself remembering how the Count had been with Maggie.

He didn't get a chance to speak then, but noticed Logan stand by his side and he subconsciously took a matching stance. As he heard mention of flag he knew what was decided, and that now this army had crossed the line into complete breach of law. As he was about to speak such a fact he was bumped into Logan.

Brushing the bobble back out of the way of his face he clenched a fist, almost tempted to smack Richy in the back of the head, Jah knew he wanted to. Instead almost through clenched teeth he said Ahh Richy, so nice of you to make your presence known to everyone. You just know we wait with baited breath each day to know if we will be graced with your glorious presence. I hope we didn't call you away from another Lady who is not your partner? he sneered taking a step forward to stand by Richy.

Oh look m'Lord, this fine dame has a baronet's crown just like yours throwing his arms in the air in mock despair he finished I guess they are just giving them to anybody these days finishing with a roll of his eyes.

Not waiting for the hot air to return he turned to Aggnes This is now an illegal army by Mercia law, I must inform you. No permission was granted by the Council, just Maggie as a citizen of Mercia. I must demand that the army is disbanded, and for you to present yourself for legal charges he glanced at the rest of the Council there, not sure what will happen next.
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End of my journey....

Deekay listened carefully to the words flying. There was a subtle shift in tone, undoubtedly caused in part by his brother’s appearance. Interesting how they all jumped to the same conclusion as his personal thoughts were that Richy only demonstrated an interest in women to preserve his reputation.

Mention of matters legal caused his thoughts to shift. At least he was on safe ground here. He collected the arguments together before speaking.

“My Lady Aggnes.You will know that I am this County’s prosecutor and I have to keep up to date on our County’s laws. I am interested to hear that the former Mayor of Worcester ..” He could not bring himself to name the woman “ .. gave you consent to form an army. I wonder if you have a copy of that consent, as no-one else on Council has seen a copy. If it exists, then I am sure a good lawyer would construct a case for you.

However, the County is now in a state of emergency, and that woman has no office. Indeed my clerks are preparing papers for Court as we speak. Captain Alastair here has full authority from Count Syrus to act.” He glanced at his friend who now radiated power – he had truly stepped into the position. “He requires you to disband, and if you do so now, then I see no reason to pursue a prosecution for having an unlawful army. You have just met our judge, and I suspect you are shrewd enough to recognise a fine legal mind. If I were advising you, I would be struggling to find a defence at this stage. My office is also looking at the attack on our former Commander Oriames, who was gravely injured, in Worcester, as a result of the Mayor’s actions.

I know my brother Judge finds he spends less time in his office when the Derby Sheep Fair is on, and defendants get frustrated at the speed the Court moved.” He wondered if his brother was still listening.

“More than anything though, as a Councillor of Mercia, I do not wish to see more blood shed. I have seen enough blood lost in the East. I confess I killed too many myself. And my son Harold fought at Carlisle last year. I had reports of his death, though he survived. He had terrible scarring on his back, though. I still have nightmares about him. I will feel I have failed if war is unleashed in this beautiful County, risking the lives of so many.”

He paused, thinking of poor Harold, who still lay unburied somewhere.

“So, there you have the dangers of the law. But I think you said you came to Mercia for other things. Talk in the tavern was of a shopping list. If you are looking for something perhaps I can help you.”
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Earl of Duffield Frith-Lord Privy Seal-Chancellor Archdiocese of Canterbury thx Fia

Aggnes did indeed recognise a fine legal mind when she saw one, and knew what she thought of the reliability of the Judge, too, at first glance. She thought through Deekay's words, carefully - he had some good points there.

"I'm afraid that, as I said, Maggie's request to me was made in the tavern, not in writing. There were no witnesses, she made sure of that. You'd have my word for it, and possibly her word for it if she felt like giving evidence, and that probablywouldn't be enough to be acceptable under the circumstances?

"If I understand you correctly, though, you see a definite legal distinction between the situation then, when she was a respected officer with multiple positions, and complying with her request was reasonable, if not technically legal, and the situation now, which is much clearer.

"Now, yes, the authority to authorise an army or not lies with the Count and the Captain, and the Captain has made his wishes clear. Does the Count agree with him? It still seems a shame to me to waste all the effort and money put into raising the army so far, when you lack one to defend your capital. At the very least, this could stay in position until you manage to raise one led by one of your own people. I wouldn't want to stay here too long: this has already turned into a longer stay than I'd anticipated: but if I can assist while you recover from whatever strange event deprived you of your previous commander, it seems only right to do so.

"But to return to my original reason for coming here: trade, naturally. I didn't expect to make much profit this trip, just to support myself by making state points for the county while I explored, but I certainly didn't want to make a loss. Effectively loaning Maggie the money to set up this army would have been a good investment, if she'd paid me back, but that doesn't look likely to happen now. I hadn't planned on getting prosecuted and fined, either.... just too helpful and trusting, that's me." She sighs regretfully.

"From what I've seen, I could make quite a bit of profit here simply by moving essential goods from one town to another. If your TM and mayors had got their act together, they could cut out me and any other private traders, but they haven't. I suppose teaching them how to do their jobs, and getting paid for that, might be another way of handling it. Though that would have to wait for the TM to recover from her injuries.... yes, that's another area we agree on. No more violence. It damages the economy too much, for one thing. Your son probably knew my daughter, but you got him back..." Her voice trails off, lost in memories for a moment.

"Fred and his team seem to be doing surprisingly well here, too. All those long roads between towns these days - setting up a branch of the Roadside Goods Emporium here might well pay off, I think." She laughs. "If nothing else, we can sell you some slightly more practical hats."
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Vice Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Royal Embassy, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Wiki entry

Deekay smiled sweetly at Lady Aggnes.

"Would you excuse me a moment?"

He turned and looked at his brother placing his hands on Richy's shoulders.

"Just listen! Alastair and I are involved in very delicate negotitions with that lady over there, who may hold Mercia's future in her hands. We have been here for some time. I have no idea how many of us will leave this field alive. "

He lowered his voice. "To be honest with you I'm scared. And what I won't have is you coming in unbriefed and risking all our lives. I know you're not an idiot. But to march into these negotiations and expect to take over is plain madness.

Now apologise to Alastair before he hits you. And I'll get him to apologise to you later. I promise once this is over, if we survive, I will take you to dinner at the best hotel in Worcester and have a great dinner. I will tell you just how much time I have spent on this, and I can tell you Al has spent double that."

He stopped and hugged his brother, before whispering "Remember, I love you. I don't want you to die, or anyone else. Now please trust me, and let me do my job."

He rubbed his eyes, before turning back. He made sure he was standing between Richy and Alastair, just in case.

"Families Lady Aggnes. I am truly sorry to hear about your daughter. My son was only back with me for a short while before he went to sea, and died there. It feels so wrong for a child to die first, and we have to learn how to deal with it. My faith and my friends here were a great support."
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Earl of Duffield Frith-Lord Privy Seal-Chancellor Archdiocese of Canterbury thx Fia

Oria has been happy all this time, eating some more of the soup, while watching the discussion among the serious people.

She saw Deekay, Logan and Richy, too. What a grand entrance!

Suddenly, Richy seemed unwell and Oria wondered just a bit, if he could use some of this chicken soup. It certainly did her some good!

Hey there, Charlie! she whispered to the man still standing beside her, do you mind helping to carry that pot for me? I think one of my councilor friends might like it.
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Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle~Plato | TY to Site for the banner and Frie for the quote.in action

John arrives on horse back as if prepared for war, behind him on the hill can be seen a crew of men setting up what appears to be a pair of Ribauldequin or as they are commonly known, Volley Guns, and two small carriaged Bombards, these all brought from Kenilworth. It is most obvious that the guns are being trained upon the encampment.

In drastic contrariness to his usual public appearances he is not dressed in any fineries or in the garb of a gentleman. No he is geared for combat, leather jerkin, sword ready as his side, shield strapped upon his back. His trusty Matchlock Pistol; primed and cocked, tucked in a brace near his abdomen, and finally he is carrying his short sticked Arquebus. As he dismounts he takes from the saddle a small flag, obviously a signal flag of some sort and tucks it into his belt. Quickly after dismount, he produces from a small pouch a mushroom of all things, although no one at any distance can see as he holds it in his free hand, it is split and then remashed together and a too faint to see single; but continual, whisp of smoke eminates from it, prepped so that without any need of creating fire or lighting match he can fire the Arquebus upon a moments notice simply by allowing the mushroom to seperate and touching its smoldering insides to the ready and waiting short fuse.

He scans his eyes upon the scene taking note of all those there and appraising any obvious threats, then approaches those he deems trustworthy, that being Father Deekay and company. Although he smiles at them as he approaches it is all too obvious the fury in his eyes, those that have been to war can easily see that it is a true bloodlust and vengence that has taken hold of the man. As he looks over those gathered to see if there is any suitable targets at hand.

Once he has finished his approach, he bows to the esteemed councilmen and then stands not too idely by to observe the proceedings. Setting the stick of the Arquebus to the ground at his foot thusly having the weapon ready for firing.
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King's Hospitaler (Abayed)/ Order of Nordicorn

"Hopefully high", Regulus replied, his stomach now also starting to complain once the topic of food was brought up. "It would be a nice change of pace from the stale old bread we usually have to make do with."

Regulus knew as well as his brother that going into an enemy's camp was pure folly, if not suicidal, but curiosity was getting the better of him. As they say, curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back. As a precaution he advised Jihb, "If anyone asks, just say that you are the brother of a diplomat of Mercia's Embassy. That should grant you safe passage in and out of their camp."

Having said that, Regulus mounted his horse, Bavieca, and galloped towards the camp. A strange yet familiar mixture of dread and excitement built up within him as he rode towards an uncertain fate.
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Arena Stats W:3 L:2 | Lord of Abergavenny |

The distance from their vantage point of the camp and the tethered horses was not far. When they arrived, the horses were whining in complaint. The beasts were obviously bored having been tied to a tree for quite some time. Jihb walked over to his travel horse, Geromaine, and patted his neck in reassurance. He then strode over to the ropes and untied them, releasing the horses from their boring situation. As soon as they were free, the two horses - one of which was Bavieca, his brother's horse - began to trot around the dirt in excitement. Their joy was unprecedented. However, it would soon be short-lived.

Jihb took Geromaine's reins into his hands, much to the disappointment of the wandering horse. The beast snorted at him with discontent, to which he responded with a frown and glare. Geromaine looked at him for a brief moment before resigning himself to his master's needs of travel. Content with his horse’s obedience, Jihb looked over at his brother who had just taken the reins of Bavieca and was leading her over to him. When the two reached them, his brother began going on about how it would be safer if he pronounced himself a brother of a Mercian diplomat upon their arrival. Jihb frowned. What was the fun in that? Wasn't their purpose to be spying on the meeting and not just to be barging in with a wave of flair? Before he could object to his brother's plan, Regulus had already ridden off with Bavieca. Cursing to himself, Jihb mounted Geromaine and kicked him into chase.

It wasn't long before they caught up to Reg. Jihb directed Geromaine to ride up besides his brother who had not noticed of his intentions. When they were in arms length of each other, Jihb seized Bavieca's reins right out of Reg's hands, putting the horse into an immediate stop. If it weren't for his grip, his brother would have fallen right off. Jihb looked over at Reg and grumbled.

"Are you daft, brother? We're supposed to be spying, remember? Besides, I think the enemy has already had enough pompous people barge through their encampment. I say, we approach this with subtlety," Jihb threw his brother a few blankets and scarves. "We shall be hungry and weary travelers from afar. This way, we may retain a level of humbleness and can be even closer to the meeting without alerting anyone of our presence. If trouble arises, we shall spring into action. But for now, keep our identities a secret, brother. Now, let’s hope our enemies are gracious towards famished travelers..."
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Thanks Kenna! | Former Count of Mercia | Baron of Whitchurch | Royal Treasurer of England

Just short of taking Richy's hand for mounting on his wall he was about to raise his own in response, but Deekay intervened, probably best. Turning to call his manservant over who was holding his horse he saw the fanfare was arriving in force, cannons, another Lord, Salter, and two miscreants in the distance probably here to thieve over whatever remains from the battle.

He nodded to Princejohn and Salter, and waved to Jimmy his manservant.

As Jimmy arrived by his side he nodded Please keep the peace if certain people commit to interrupting outside of their remit. he offered his sword , hilt first and Jimmy nodded taking a step to the side understanding the full meaning.

Turning to Aggnes again he replied "We do not need an army raised by a non-Mercian, you have been terribly duped by Maggie and will of course request you file all evidence for her prosecution. he took off his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand Now, we cant allow your army to remain, one way or other. I think we all he glanced at Richy over his shoulder want a peaceful outcome here. We can offer you the chance to disband, and leave the County borders peacefully with no further repercussions. I have the Count's authority to permit such.
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End of my journey....

Aggnes considered this, carefully. It didn't look to her as if everyone was happy for her to leave peacefully. "In pieces" seemed to be more what some of them had in mind.

"I'd want certain reassurances for my safety, you realise, and I don't mean protective custody. We agree that this wasn't my fault, and I'm happy to appear in court and explain how I was duped and by whom, though I'm afraid there's nothing in writing. She owes me for the army set-up costs, though - would the court make her pay? Or would the council pay me off, and claim it back in fines from her later? I see some people want to prosecute me for trying to help the county, too - admittedly it's only Sergitov, but some sort of guarantee that that won't happen would be good."

She still wasn't sure, though. This Alastair seemed like an honest, if harrassed, politician, but "honest politician" was a comparative term, rather like "slightly less crooked than the average corkscrew." Getting his word was all very well, but until the cash was in her hands, could she really risk giving up her protection?
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Vice Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Royal Embassy, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Wiki entry

Richy sighed and laid a hand upon Aggnes's shoulder. It was highly out of custom, but this could symbolize the Council's trust in Aggnes.
"My Lady, we have all been there. Unfortunately..errh...my son, Sergitov as you know him, bumped his head quite a few times during his youth. Who knows what's going on up there nowadays. I just pray to Jah my disowned child learns not to stick his nose in where it doth not belong." Shuffling through the bag on his horse, Richy took out a long bottle of French Red Wine. It was the finest in the lands. He managed to save some at the Embassy from his past journeys to his old home, France.

"Perhaps, this can be an offering of peace?" Richy handed Aggnes the bottle of red wine, a very rare type in the British Isles.
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Lord Justice: Court of Appeals | Chancellor of England | Archdeacon of Canterbury | Deacon of Derby | Baron of Brockhampton | President: Law Society

Fleetfoot stood on the crest of a small hill, his breath a little shallow, but not uncomfortably so. Rather, it was the breath of a champion sprinter who had just succeeded in chasing a group of birds away from his vegetable patch, not that he was keen on blowing his own trumpet or anything. Although, that could be handy, when General Neutrino was looking at the next round of promotions, and this little excursion was just the sort of exercise that might enable a trainee Scout to work his way up the pecking order, provided he could distinguish himself; and really, he was good at his job. His clothing was light, the thin rings of metal covering his chest made purposefully for their manouverability. His weapons were sleek, and sharp, a curved short sword at his side, more a specialised dagger than a hefty broadsword, and several small knives hung at his belt, ready to throw, if required. In his boots, sturdy, but light, a final defence was sheathed. A heavy bag hung on his back, carrying the essential supplies, but as for its weight, he was used to it. Dark dye, in greens and browns, covered his clothes, and if he wished, he could blend into the trees, a ghost of a shadow of a whisper. General Neutrino and the 1st Legion only took the best.

His excursion had led him South, towards the capital, and he had slipped into a crouch as he caught side of the rumoured unauthorised Camp. Neat rows of tents stood within wooden fences, a well organised outpost for certain. A green flag flew above the camp, and he confirmed that with the information he had received from his talks in a Tavern with a local boy. Far too young to be drinking, but useful enough in filling him in on the situation. He stayed where he was for a moment, and watched, his eyes bright and sharp enough to see that a meeting of sorts was taking place, people he recognised from the descriptions in his briefing as members of the Mercian Council, headed by the Captain, Alastair. Just across from him stood the Commander of the new Army, Lady Aggnes, a fellow Westmorlander. He crouched low, assessing the situation, and watching to see if events might unfold.

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As his brother worked with outiftting himself with his new attire, Jihb also wrapped himself in a few blankets and scarves. They finished at around the same time. His eyes scanned Regulus's outfit. Although their disguises were hastily rushed, the two portrayed the roles of weathered travelers quite well. Of course, appearance was important. However, the act was what sold the play. At the moment, their act was solid. Haggard, tired, and most importantly, hungry; the men were the perfect travelers.

Satisfied that his brother's appearance was up to par, he turned Geromaine back towards the direction of the camp. He kicked his horse into action and bounded for the camp. Hopefully, none of the councilors would recognize them. This was supposed to be a meeting between them and the enemy, after all. Jihb pondered on the likeliness that Reg and he would be reprimanded by Captain Alastair upon their discovery. It was one thing to barge in announced and another to conceal one's identity to sneak in. Regardless, the events that would take place ahead of them were bound to be quite interesting.
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Thanks Kenna! | Former Count of Mercia | Baron of Whitchurch | Royal Treasurer of England

(OOC: Aggnes has allowed me to godmod Fred. Guess I'll give it a try. It's assuming Reg and Jihb already entered the camp.)

"Well hello lads"! Fred exlaimed rather gleefully as he saw Regulus and Jihb arrive. He always liked meeting potentially new customers. Naturally he had some of the typical intuitiveness of a merchant and continued, "You both look hungry! Got some nice warm soup and sausage-inna-bun for ya- just a shilling for both! How about it, then?"

Alastair accepts the scroll taking a quick skim, his assessment leads to a different avenue of thought Kill lists please, they are required as part of the army relations.
Reading a little further something else caught his eye No mention of those following Aravis, quite clearly not marked empty. Can we highlight those names please or should we scour these tents confiscating and arresting as we go? he held the scroll having wound it up again.

We can assure safe travel by Deekays honour, and we can discuss trade once our trade minister is not at deaths door he briefly wondered which side of it she was on remembering the look the soldiers had when they saw her en route. Then as he heard Maggie arrive But that all relies on you disbanding with full haste and this he said waving at the camp Is gone before armies are rallied here. Oh and your testimony that pointing at maggie she asked you to raise the army, as you said she was the sheriff with the... ear of the Count and had promised to pay you from the County funds. he didn't look at Maggie, he had been close enough to hurting Richy let alone deal with Maggie.
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End of my journey....

The rude behaviour of the baron - who had managed to ignore her completely, despite her generous attempts at idle chitchat - sobered her up completely. She had even made the man a compliment, for Jah's sake! She pulled her hand back and shot him a hateful glare, the kind that usually made her men want to crawl in their hammocks and hide under their blankets. Of course, they probably knew a lot better what she was capable of, but she still hoped the sorry excuse for a noble would feel a fraction of her disdain for him and his lack of manners.

Sobering up also meant she was suddenly very aware of what was happening around her. With a sharp turn of her head - her curls bouncing around her face - she focussed her green eyes on Alastair. "I beg your pardon? Why do you want to know, so you can secretly prosecute them after all? Or so you can put them on watch and kill lists so they will be the target of the Mercian guard the next time they pass these grounds? Are you asking me to sell my people out? Is that what honour is about with the Mercian Guard? Would you do that to your men, who loyally follow you through wind and weather?" She took a step forward, and raised to her full length. It wasn't that she was tall, but somehow she seemed to gain in posture nonetheless. "I don't think so Al. The events from two years ago should have already told you that I would never do that. If you want to pay my men, please do so. There were seven in my platoon besides myself. Their payments can go through me."

((OOC. Sorry for the late post.))

"It's a disciplined army. Disciplining Flame is quite hard, as I'm sure you know, and she does seem to get some ideas stuck in her head at times. This time, though, it's quite simple."

She reaches out to the slightly tacky brass badge pinned to Flame's left shoulder, and pulls it out - the pin bends, rather than tearing the cloth. "Platoon leader d'Arnoncourt, you're fired." She does the same with the similar badge on the right shoulder. "Logistics officer d'Arnoncourt, you're fired too. I'd consider having you both courtmartialled for insubordination, but there's no troops left to do it."

She looks behind at the neat, orderly, if somewhat shabby camp. "Bob! Lower the flag!"
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Vice Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Royal Embassy, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Wiki entry

OOC/IG update for those watching at home: Aravis sacked as Logistics (the button failed to appear to sack her platoon). One post later, army disbanded.
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Vice Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Royal Embassy, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Wiki entry

Father Deekay felt the bile rise in his throat as he heard that woman arrive. He couldn't bring himself to look let alone speak. He hoped his clerks were hard at work drawing up indictments. By the end of the month she would be in the right place - on the gallows.

Forgiveness might come later. He watched as Aggness stripped the other woman of her insignia, and then the flag was lowered. He glanced across at Alastair. They had made a good team, today. One day he would tell him. Time would tell whether they had saved Mercia.

Now came the remainder - making sure the County side of the bargain was delivered.

"Lady Aggnes, I think we have a lot to talk about. We need to fix fees and work out how we arrange things. If it is easier to move papers around in a tavern, then yes. I would offer my office in the Castle, but you might think it too close to the cells."
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Earl of Duffield Frith-Lord Privy Seal-Chancellor Archdiocese of Canterbury thx Fia

Dirk came running into the camp at full speed, waving his sword, shouting his original (and strangely romantic) war cries, and missing his left sock. He was quiet the frightening site.

He sees everyone standing around and stops short, confused. Something was defiantly wrong here, there was supposed to be fighting going on, not conversation... or maybe there wasn't. Truth is, he wasn't really paying attention to Flame when she told him to show up . He really did try to listen but he had other things to do, like sleep, so it was possible he was benign invited to a meeting of some sort.

Maybe I got here too early?? he thought, but he immediately realized just how silly that sounded coming from a man who never wakes up before the crack of noon. He asked a much more sensible question, "Am I late....again??"

"Wot, flag lowering already? Does that mean none of you's going to be looking for a first class Scrivener?"

He was tactful enough to leave the 'tch!' unsaid, though it did rather hang there like a tiny packet of noxious gas in a tightly sealed suit of armour.

"Normally I does a two for one on days like this - Lastillantesterment and a letter to the sweetheart of your choice but if you ain't going to be kickin' off anytime soon I can do a special price on love missals - three for the price o' two. Send 'em to three different ladies at once or the same one three times. Your choice. Though lookin' at the faces on some of you there won't be much need fer love letters. Maybe Mercian midwives slap a different bit to the rest of the country..."

A few minutes later, Charlie sidled up to the newcomer, empty soup bucket in hand. He looked like someone who'd heard about sidling but never seen it, and now decided to try it for the first time: why else would he be walking sideways across an empty bit of field, head strained round to look where he was going?

Two molehills and some cursing later, he reached his destination, and looked round Furtively (we leave this to the reader's imagination) to be sure they were unobserved by any in the immediate vicinity. The small crowd that had gathered to watch from a safe distance (safe from random splashes of cold soup, that is) applauded.

The muttering at least did manage to be muttering (mostly). All that could be heard was "....beautiful.... trade... carriage... no, six....". Coins exchanged hands.

(Sorry, this should chronologically have happened somewhat earlier: I was hoping the information would have come out in other people's thoughts, but it didn't.)

There was a watchtower, on the border between Mercia and Westmorland. It wasn't very comfortable for the guards, or very beautiful to look at, but it was good at its intended function, which was providing as good a view as possible of what was going on north of the border, including a stable platform for high-quality spyglasses, and a pigeon loft. Mercia's intelligence service liked it a lot.

At the moment, the two guards at the top of the tower were trying to make sense of what they could see around distant Liverpool.

"No, that flag's moved, I'm sure of it."

"Don't be daft, that army's been inside the walls for years. General's in the monastery, they say."

"Well, he isn't now. That army's come out, and marching."

"Who's the general, anyway - oh, Aeneas? Isn't he supposed to be the richest man in the world, or something?"

"In England, anyway. Made his money robbing Chester, they say. I wonder why he's come out now?"

"Dunno.... who did he used to work with, anyway? The Corsairs, wasn't it? What happened to them?"

"Let's check the sightings report."

Downstairs, a heavy ledger was pulled from a shelf. "Rouguelaw... oh, in Worcester. Might be coincidence, I suppose. How about his wife? With him, I see. And what's her name, Aravis? Oh. Worcester, and leading quite a large group."

They closed the book. "That's a lot of Corsairs in Worcester. The same Worcester that's got an army of unknown intentions sitting outside it."

"From what we know of the general, her intentions are money, money and more money."

"So.... the richest man in the world is heading towards a general who's obsessed with money and in the same city as his allies? A city that just happens to be our capital? Can you spell "coincidence"?"

"No, but it wouldn't fit on a paper a pigeon could carry anyway. Which one's the fastest?"

(We leave it to the reader to imagine the panic that ensued when the pigeon arrived.)

There's a certain sadness in the striking of a color, and John watches with silent respect as the flag is taken down. He steps aside and signals his guns to pack up. To his surprise he receives a signal in return that more riders approach. Cancelling his order he signals them to return to standing by and begins to watch the other road of approach.

Eventually he sees none other than Lady Lizabet approaching. It has been some time since they last met, late last spring and he's curious in seeing her here.

He returns to his horse and replaces his acquebus into it's holster and slips the mushroom back into his saddlebag. Taking off his helm he leaves it perched upon the saddle horn and then returns to the cross road.

When Lizabet arrives he bows cordially if not courtly and smiles at the lady.

"Indeed I would M'Lady although sometime there is naught much to be seen. That was until thou dost arrive."
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King's Hospitaler (Abayed)/ Order of Nordicorn

As if summoned by her words, a small wagon approaches, though the man dragging it is looking at the carriage heading towards the town, not where he's going. The sign on the side says "Hott Fud and Ale", and it does indeed have a smell wafting from it that's vaguely similar to that of food, and what looks like a few barrels.

Liza turns to watch the approach of the wagon as well. Her stomach lurches slightly in protest to the odor that seems to seep from it's contents. Her eyes widen in alarm as the wagon comes dangerously close to where they're standing, the driver obviously distracted. She takes a few steps out of it's path, stumbling and trodding on Ribuld's foot behind her. She feels him catch her elbow to steady her and blushes as she hears his mumbled curse. Giving him a somewhat sheepish grin she straightens and attempts to recover her dignity.

I think I would be quite grateful for a sip from your flask, thank you M'Lord, she says to John as she accepts the flask. Taking a swig she hands it back with a smile. 'Tis gratifying to hear you are well. I also am doing fine. As you can see, I am able to finally sample your stronger stock, she says as she hands the flask back, her other hand briefly brushing over her now flat stomach as the last time they had met she had been large with child. Mayor of Evesham? Congratulations, she comments. Well I'm sure under your more than capable leadership, things will soon be set to rights and it's coffers will be overflowing, she offers with an enigmatic smile.

Liza keeps a thoughtful eye on Lord Sutton for a moment then follows the line of his gaze. Amusement tugs at the corners of her smile and she leans slightly towards Lord Sutton to comment, It looks as if there are those here over-eager to test their mettle. Perhaps I'm not so late, after all?
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{Devon Goddess of Wolves} ~ For my babe.. I need you

Hez stood at the head of his Army, the 1st Legion of the Westmorland Territorial Forces, a sizable force, and a well motivated one. They had travels well, and had spent the last week or so in Lichfield, reinforcing the Town's defences, and spending their time rebuilding a number of watchtowers and gatehouses that had sprouted a little too much grass, and a few too many weeds. The 1st Legion stood at the top of a hill, and looked down, over the fields and forests, towards their destination, the furthest south that they would be going, Worcester City. Their time here was nearly at an end, their work nearly completed, and all that was required of them now was to proceed to the City, establish contact with the Lady Aggnes, and escort her safely home to Westmorland, ensuring her protection against various robbers and bandits who had been travelling these parts of late. Given all the troubles that had occured, he hoped she would be as eager to return to the warm fire and comforting familiarity of home as he was. The 1st had come with a job to do, and they would see it through to its conclusion. Hez raised his hand, and swung it down, and the Westmorland Host began their steady march onwards again. With favourable conditions, they would be at Worcester tomorrow.
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King of England

A little way off the main road, Fred was replenishing supplies. The army camp had been a good idea, they'd emptied the Fud and Ale wagon, sold an amazing number of bears, not to mention flags for all sides involved to wave, and toy swords for the town's children. He made a mental note to mention it to Her: war, as long as it didn't involve fighting, meant money. They should start more of them.

But for now, he was making the most of the R.G.E. being a business with many branches. The Green Flag had helped rescue another caravan they'd put in distress, and this time one of the horses had broken a leg and had to be put down. They hadn't even charged the customer much to remove the carcass. He'd gone back to retrieve it from the bridge they'd left it under, later, and found some madman flogging it. He was easily chased off, though, and there was his dead horse: a useful source of leather, meat, glue, threats...

At the moment, he was making stew - or possibly soup. It took a big pot to boil down chunks of horse, but he had that. Now he was extracting the bones for future use, tossing them into a pile to cool. There was a yapping sound from the pile, and he turned round to see a very small dog retreating hastily from a thigh bone considerably larger than it was. He laughed. Daft mutt must have burnt its mouth, and serve it right for trying to steal from the R.G.E. A few bones later, and there was another sound. This time it had found something small enough to drag, but was being hampered by being unable to lift it off the ground. Those short stumpy legs on the long body weren't designed for forest. He laughed again, picked the stupid little thing up, and retrieved his bone. All right, so, it was only a bone, but it was his bone, and no useless cur was going to steal it.

For once, he actually looked at the bone, since his attention had been drawn to it. What was it, anyway? Flattish, round. Must have come from one of the leg joints. He wasn't too sure how horses worked, but did they have kneecaps? If so.... Slowly, slowly, light began to dawn. He'd looked up "patella". That's what this was. A patella, like that priesty me-lord had wanted. A big patella. Heroic size, he mentally amended. If he could just clean it up a bit, and then age it... cold tea did the job on manuscripts, it ought to do the job here.

He looked after the fleeing dog almost affectionately. "You did all right for the church, mutt," he called. "They should hire themselves a short-haired dachshund, you're more use than most of them."

(sorry about the delay, RL intervened)

Aggnes picked up the last bag and carried it down the lostel stairs to add to the rest of the things packed into the hand cart. Not much, compared with trips she'd done in the past, but there simply hadn't been much on the Worcester market that would sell in Liverpool.

Just before noon, and so that rather good-looking young man with the sword must be... "General Hezlog, I presume?"
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Vice Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Royal Embassy, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Wiki entry

Aggnes read the contract, laughed, and signed. "Very tidy, though I would have expected that from a former Trade Minister. I hope whoever is doing the job in your absence is as competent."

She dropped that last bag into the cart, and picked up the handles. "Thanks for the gentlemanly offer, but I'll be fine. I'm a soldier now, and expected to help other people with loads, not ask for help myself. Rations for the journey are packed, and I'm ready to go - I gathered from your letter that we wouldn't be stopping anywhere with a market until we were home."

She might be wearing a dress rather than trousers, and be more used to the administration of an army than being part of the cannon-fodder, but the axe at her belt was well-worn, the shield looked as if it had seen use, and she had boots on her feet, not the soft shoes of a gentlewoman.

She glanced back rather wistfully at the university and the Finance offices, where she had spent so much of her time here, then squared her shoulders and headed for the town gates.

The encampment was quickly reached, and she surveyed what was left of it with slight amusement. "I see we agree on what constitutes a good site, and even on the layout to use. I'm glad I never had to use it for too many troops, though, we'd have had to gravel the path to the latrine trenches with the ground this wet."

ooc: can't describe the army due to having no idea who or how many are in it, and no particular desire to describe the journey.
Godmodding may be done in terms of Aggnes obeying any reasonable order she's given.
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Vice Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Royal Embassy, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Wiki entry

ooc: since it's nearly midnight, and after reset we'll be in Westmorland: thank you, Mercian players, for your hospitality and great RPing, and farewell.
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Vice Chancellor of Foreign Affairs, Royal Embassy, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Wiki entry

Herbert?!?!?!?!?

Surely it can not be....

Carrots turnips and sheep all things of quite the marked past.

Even the occasional thoughts about a certain apartment explosion brings a tear to my eye.

What is next...the return of the purveyor of Ye' Olde Dung Heap????

Southampton. Complete with hedgehog.