Legendary Exploits of Three Not Viking Brothers

He turns and looks at his son, then back to you, and then back to his son and waves for him to go and says "See what he wants, Edward." He then turns back to his conversation and Edward steps out to walk over to you.

Once Edward is standing in front of you, he says "Hello Robillard, I trust you managed to solve your demigryph problem?"

"Indeed! Guinevere now bends supply to my will. Your advice proved invaluable. We prayed and fasted together for days before she accepted me. And how about this coronation! I was hoping to leave all that fighting behind in the Crusade!" Robillrd laughs nervously.

Edward gives you a strange look at your talk that sounds a lot like you're describing bestiality. Realizing what you mean he laughs and says "Good to hear that you would not be outdone by a beast. I do agree with the new Kings sentiment, however, as Acren will never be safe unless our foes are killed in their entirety. If an easier way were available, I'm sure we'd have taken it by now."

Realizing that now is not the most proper time for such talk he smiles and says "But anyway, I'm sure you're excited for the tournament tomorrow? I find it hard to believe many could match your strength in the field."

"Indeed, I believe you are right. I was looking forward to proving my strength and righteousness, but I fear I cannot attend. What was to be my first tournament has been snatched away by the fates! My brother has as much as forbidden my attendance. He fears that my excellence would shine forth too brightly, and the king would claim me for his own retinue."

Edward seems shocked and says "What? You're not participating in the tournament? I never expected such disgraceful words from someone like you Robillard. Tell me that this is a jest?"

"Believe me, Edward, I have wracked my brain trying to determine how I might participate. I would be sure to win honor and glory for my family. But how can I compete while avoiding the attention of the king? I would be forced to choose my family above him, and that would surely end in him insulted and my family ostracized."

"A dire predicament to be sure. I guess I'll just have to win the tournament without fighting you then!" He gives a hearty laugh at this notion

"I would surely give you a run for your money! But tell me Edward," and now Robillard leans in closer and lowers his voice. "What harm could refusing the king's request truly cause? Besides, I am not guaranteed to win! I pray that I shall, but prayers seem to fall flat these days. Perhaps I should enter regardless."

Robillard's thoughts begin to turn in a new direction. He has not exercised his independence in quite a long time.

Edward shrugs and says "I cannot say. Our King hasn't held his office for even a day. How am I to know his reaction to such an event."

Detlef clears his throat and says "I hope you recognise how much you risk with your brother by performing such an action, Robillard. I've never known him to take kindly to renegades amongst his ranks."

Edward looks at Detlef and says "Last I checked a crusaders only master is Themis and those who speak for her. Perhaps you're not the man I thought you were Robillard?"

"Edward, someday I must speak with you about those who speak for Themis. This is not the time or place however." Turning to Detlef, he continues, "Yes, of course you are right cousin. My mind and body must be craving military action."

[Im ready to move onto the next stage.]

Edward gives you a questioning look and says "I'll leave you to it then. A shame the tournament will not be as exciting then." With that, he walks back over to his father who puts his hand on his shoulder and appears to be proclaiming pride in his son to the others. Robillard can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the display.

Before Detlef can respond or say anything to you Eichenwald returns carrying the crate and sets it down with a thud. He stretches out his back for a moment and says "What are you two waiting for? They've started allowing people in. I would prefer to get a good seat of the events. And would one of you help me with this crate if you're so kind?"

Robillard looks over at the doors Detlef had gestured to earlier and notices a couple of individuals going inside. Not many others have noticed that they can enter yet and no proclamators have said anything yet but they likely will soon.

Detlef looks at Robillard and says "Shall we Robillard? A good seat will be hard to find if we do not hurry."

Robillard lifts the giant crate up onto his shoulder with ease. "Let us proceed. We shall impress the king with our generosity. I hope your ship is as opulent as you claim, Eichenwald."

Robillard, Detlef, and Eichenwald go to one of the doors (it doesn't matter which). A guard standing at the door holds up his hand to stop you and a man in fine clothing and a parchment and quill says "Name of those entering and their affiliated house?"

Robillard tells them their names and that they represent house Griswald. The man looks through his parchment for a moment and makes some scribbles before saying "You may enter. Welcome to the castle esteemed lord."

The guard holds open the door for you and the three of you walk inside. Much to Roillards surprise, the walls inside the passageway are not stone but have had wood built alongside them to give them a more comfortable feel. The top two-thirds of each wall is painted a light red and the bottom third a dark red with paintings and swords and shields mounted alongside the wall at fairly regular intervals. The floor itself of the long corridor you find yourself is still stone but a long carpet goes its entire length and you notice that numerous doors are along one of the walls presumably leading to other parts of the castle (including a kitchen which Robillard can smell delicious cooking from). Several other nobles and associates walk the same direction down the hall with a couple having stopped to admire portraits along the way. After probably twenty yards you eventually come to the only door in the hallway on the other wall and two guards stand at attention who, upon your approach, open the door for you to reveal the grand entry room/ballroom.

The grand room is approximately thirty by forty yards in dimension with a flat ceiling above it. Most notably a large indent in the floor is in the center with stairs on all sides providing a way down and railing lining the parts where there aren't stairs. The hard wooden floor below is presumably the dancing/entertainment area and numerous tables and chairs are set up on the ground level areas surrounding the dancefloor. Straight above the dancefloor three lamps in the shapes a manticore, griffon, and a wyvern each clutch sets of lights that illuminate the room. Tapestries of vivid color and depiction line the walls and Robillard takes note that this is not the throne room as no grand throne is in sight. There is however, at the opposite end of the main entrance, a long rectangular table on a slightly raised wooden platform where presumably the royalty will be sitting during the event. Several groups are already finding seats at the various table and many are making remarks on the grandeur of the tapestries on the walls.

Detlef while looking about says "Where would you prefer to sit, Robillard? towards the King or towards the entrance?"

"By the King! I hope to draw his eye and then impress him with this ship. Do not try and get a table too close to the dance floor; I do not expect that I will be doing much dancing."

Robillard and company take seats at a table towards the front but also to the outside sets of tables so that dancing is as unlikely as possible. Eichenwald complains that he won't have a good view of the ladies from the seats but he doesn't say anything more on the matter after that. For the next fifteen minutes or so people begin coming into the room and finding seats (and reserving them for the house leaders). Soon enough, the entire room is nearly full and some individuals are already finding they have to stand until they can swipe a seat from those who go dancing.

Eventually, Robillard hears a man from the entrance shout across the hall "Everyone quiet, please! The Lords and Ladies of the country of Acren are to be presented to all!" Everyone quiets and looks on at the man and the great doors he stands in front of open wide by the force of two men of the Kings Guard. He pulls out a piece of parchment and clears his throat before speaking next, "Introducing, Lord Vincent Dessaur and Lady Dessaur! Master of Acrens navy and Aubergs mercantile ports." All applaud as the Lord walks down with his presumable wife in tow to the indented area. As he reaches the bottom of the stairs the next name is read off and so on for some time.

"Lord Petrus Frey and Lady Frey! Lord of the Western farmlands and beloved defender of Acren."

"Lord Dominic Noske! Lord of the Misty Peaks and slayer of beasts."

"Lord Julius Weingand and Lady Weingand! Master of Acrens armies and thrice blessed by Themis."

"Lord Gregor Holzer! Lord of the Hafomt Mountains and slayer of Lich's."

"Lord Leon Friesler and Lady Friesler! Lord of Panzinger City and the Great Bazaar."

"Lord Petrus Ettlinger and Lady Ettlinger! Master of Acrens beasts and Lord of the Southern fields."

"Lord Thomas Bronstein! Lord of Clolf Mountains and Black Pass."

The announcer waits for everyone to finish applauding and for those announced to take their places on the floor below. Once Lord Bronstein turns back to the main door the announcer speaks again "And finally, introducing the Grand Master of the military, twice Fireborn, and defender of Acren! King Gerwald Bernheardt!"

The new King receives the loudest applause of all. The newly crowned sovereign walls through the door flanked by the same two people he stood with in the monastery and is flanked by two of the Kings Guard. No longer wearing the clothes from before, King Bernheardt wears a cloak of grey scales and much more fanciful black and navy blue tunic than before. The crown of Acren sits atop his head and glistens in the light as brightly as the gold-hilted blade at his side. He stops for a moment at the top of the stairs to look around the room and wave to everyone before walking down. The Lords and Ladies below bow as he walks past and he stops to shake each of their hands and exchange a short set of words with each of them before finally coming to the opposite set of stairs. He ascends these and stops at the small wooden platform at the head table before turning to say:

"Thank you all for joining the celebrations here in this great castle. Tonight marks the start of the grand celebration and I am excited to see all of your children and knights fighting for honour in the arena's and proving grounds. But please don't let me stop your fun. Let the celebrations commence!" A grand applause goes out and soon musicians towards the front of the room begin playing music and gentleman and ladies begin making their way to the dance floor. Foods begin being brought out in platters and Robillard can't remember the last time he had tasted food so good.

Detlef breaks the silence between you three and says "I really must find out who the chef in the castle is. I'm sure I could convince them to cater one of the events I put together for my associates."

Eichenwald responds by saying "This isn't the greatest food I've ever had but certainly the best since coming to the mainland."

"Indeed, this food is delicious. However, I fear I must mingle. Come, Eichenwald, are you now prepared to present yourself to the King?"

"When the time comes. I'm sure that all the gift presentations will be done when the King so sees fit."

"Ah, of course. I am glad you are both able to check my provincial manners. Now, if you will excuse me for a moment."

Robillard stands up from the table and clanks out to the the dance floor. He is not looking to dance, but to mingle with the wealthy and powerful. Really just trying to get an idea what people are talking about and how they are feeling in these turbulent times.

Robillard does his best to mingle among those present but considering his general awkwardness he doesn't make much headway. After about an hour and a half the announcer from before shouts from the small wooden platform "The King will now receive gifts. All Lords that brought items to give to the new King come to the floor below and they will be inspected by his majesty."

Robillard helps Eichenwald carry the crate down to the dance floor. Each of the Lords who had been announced before also make their way down with small boxes and one other has a crate of comparable size. A couple of other individuals who Robillard doesn't know representing houses whose lords couldn't make the event are also present with their own gifts. King Bernheardt stands up from his chair and comes down to the dance floor alongside the announcer and the captain of the Kings Guard. He starts with those in front and Robillard realizes they will be the twelth to present their gift out of what he counts to be twenty. The procedure goes slow as each presentation is made equally grand and they each weave a story of how tremendous their gift is. Some present jewelry taken from the clutches of a dead King ages ago, others present blades wielded by their ancestors and forged of the strongest steel, and some present holy relics that purportedly were owned by Arch-Cardinals of the past. The only other group with a box of comparable size to you belongs to Lord Holzer and upon reaching him it is revealed the crate contains a manticore egg that was obtained at great cost.

Eventually the King reaches you and the announcer says to him "A gift presented from House Griswald, sir."

Eichenwald steps forward a pace and says "Good King, I am Sir Eichenwald. I am a master craftsman and House Griswald has contracted me to build you a ship of such grandeur it will be the envy of the world. Naturally such a vessel cannot be built in so short a time and as such I present to you in the Lords sted a model of the ship." Eichenwald reaches into the box and pulls out the model ship from the packed straw keeping it safe. He holds it before the King who takes it from his hands to examine it further and Eichenwald continues to speak "A keen eye would notice the vessel will resemble those from my own native lands. The double masts of the ship will provide her speed to outpace any ship made in Acren and the decks below ample space for her crew and your own comfort. The engravings upon her hull will ensure that all who gaze upon her will weep in jealousy and her shape will ensure any boarders are met with the harshest of resistance while providing ample room for entertainment of your subjects. The ship will be the envy of all and will be entirely thanks to the generosity of House Griswald."

[now is the time for Robillard to say something should he desire]

"We hope this gift will remind you of the strength that the Von Griswalds hold over the sea. Our fleets and men are at your command, Your Grace. Together, we have protected the realms of man from incursion by the barbarian and the lich king for many decades. We hope for many more years of safety and prosperity, following your certain-to-be-successful crusade."

The King hands the model to one of his retainers and says "This is to be no crusade. We will not fight because some Themisian voice told us to. We will fight because it is our manifest destiny. I will eagerly await the finished vessel, though with luck the war will be finished even before the craft is done."

Eichenwald nods and says "The Griswald shipyards will ensure it is built with all expedience. It will provide a perfect vessel for all your affairs while away from the castle."

With that, the King moves on to the next gift and soon enough all have been presented. The King moves back to his platform and says to all assembled "You all humble me with the greatness of these gifts. With your help, I am sure my reign will be more prosperous than any other! Now, let the festivities resume."

Robillard returns to his seat along with Eichenwald and Deltef makes a comment of how it seemed to go well. There is nothing else planned for the evening except for pleasantries and some people meeting with the King but Robillard is not nearly important enough to be called for such an event.

[Say what you want to do with the rest of the party and things will move on. Robillards societal standings do not allow him to meet with higher-ups who will be speaking to those more on their level]

Robillard will sit awkwardly at his table, drinking away the night. He will glance nervously every so often at different young women, trying to figure out who he will be forced to marry. If he gets the chance, he'll try and socialize with Edward Holzer (everyone needs a friend!)

Unfortunately, Robillard is unable to get the chance to socialise with Edward as his father's business maintains the entirety of his attention throughout the night. Robillard is left mostly to the company of Detlef and Eichenwald who discuss matters beyond Robillards understanding and largely leave him to awkwardly sit in his chair. He cannot help but feel jealous at the joy others have at the event and at the love displayed by particular pairs. With ample time to his own thoughts, Robillard begins to worry about his own future and what it may hold in store for him.

After several hours eventually, people begin to take their leave. Eichenwald and Detlef, fairly intoxicated by this point (though not Robillard due to his physique) grab Robillard from his sorrowful near depression and the group take their leave of the castle. Soon enough, the stumbling party returns to Detlefs estate and Robillard learns Gwain is outside still practising his archery in the dark and Leewan is on the upstairs balcony.

Robillard will go to Gwain and stand silently by him, sipping at a bottle he managed to sneak out of the party and staring morosely at the target.

Gwain continues to fire arrow after arrow into the straw targets dozens of yards away. If Gwain has noticed Robillard, he makes no indication. The only sound is the constant rhythm of Gwain's practice. Draw, shoot, strike... Draw, shoot, strike. Again and again, as though he were singing some sorrowful chant. If Robillard's eyes could pierce the veil of night, he would see thick blood oozing from the fingertips of Gwain's right hand.

After perhaps half an hour of this, Robillard can take no more. He goes inside, then returns a moment later with two large wineskins, full of the harshest, most alcoholic moonshine that he has squirreled away.

He walks up to Gwain, grabs his brother's bow away, then shoves the wineskin into his bleeding hands. "Drink. It will draw away your demons and give you peace this night."

Gwain stares deeply into his brothers eyes. Reflected back at him is the visage of a young man once filled with hope, now broken to the core. Gwain turns back towards the targets and a single tear rolls down his smooth face. "I wish to be alone," he all but whispers. Robillard can feel Gwain pulling gently for control of his hand back.

Robillard sees the despair pouring out of Gwain, and his heart breaks. He remember seeing this look on his young friends in the Crusade, after they had lost an arm or a leg. He knows no dangerous it is to leave men in this state alone.

"No, Gwain. Now drink."

Gwain does not acknowledge his brother again. Instead, he begins walking briskly inside, leaving his bow and the wine in his brother's hands.

Robillard stands there, shaking with fear and fury. He looks up at Leewan, looming above on his balcony and shouts, "Are you satisfied?!"

He then stalks back inside, throwing the bow to the ground and chugging his moonshine (not wine). He was able to hold back during the party, but right now he will get rip-roaring drunk.

Leewan turns to Robillard and observes his raucous entry into the Detlef estate. Leewan too, enters the home. He finds Robillard already half done with a bottle of liquor.

"Did anything of import come of your time at the festival?"

"No. The King made another grand speech about how this Crusade surely would not be a waste of young men's lives and souls. He knows not of what he speaks."

"Then there is agreement among us. The new king is naive. Still, he holds absolute authority."

Robillard, still furious with himself, with Themis, with the King, and finally having reached the limits of even his Herculean endurance, can no longer hold his tongue.

"Fuck the King. Brother, let me enter the tournament. I will prove to all the dominance of our house and show the king that his power is not welcome to the von Griswalds. He can have his pleasure barge, but we are not men who sail on perfumed ships. Let me show him our steel."

Leewan remains composed: "Spurn the king and you would see the house of Griswald damned to the worst fields of combat and stretched beyond our means. No matter the outcome of the tournament, war comes. You are free to realize your desires. However, you will not represent this house if you participate in the king's competition."

Robillard may have rejected all the other authority figures in his life, but he still can't reject his brother. He finishes off the first wineskin, wipes his mouth, then matches off shakily to sit in front of the fire and drink some more.

Without anymore encounters available for the night, Leewan retires to bed.

With everyone going to bed (at one point or another) the day comes to a close. Certainly an eventful buildup to the tournament, it nevertheless comes the following morning with a letter alerting the Griswald family that Gwain is to report for preliminary matches come noon. In addition, Leewan is alerted that the King wishes to meet at dusk to discuss the future military campaign.

Gwain rises to greet the early dawn, his bed wet with the sweat of nightmares. As he equips his leather archery bracers, Gwain muses on how different this tournament will be from his last. He had been a hero of the people, fighting the tyranny of oppression. Now what was he? A pawn of his brother, a broken man, and trapped within the schemes of evildoers.

Before leaving the estate, Gwain ensures that his concealed weapons are in their proper place, sets his fencing blade on his belt, and slings his bow and arrow over his shoulder.  He exists the premises without a word to his brothers. On the way out, he passes a house servant and says without slowing, "Tell your master that Gwain Von Griswald has made for the tournament."

As Leewan and Robillard eat their morning meal and read over the day's events (jousting prelims, various melee's, archery, etc...) Detlef comes in and says "It would appear that Gwain has already left for the prelims." He looks over at Robillard who is obviously suffering from a self-imposed hangover and says "Drink the orange juice cousin it will help to clear your head and perhaps you'll actually be in enough shape to witness your brother."

"Robillard, I am set to the task of gauging Gwain's abilities in the wake of his injury. I will be taking the guards and give audience to Gwain's preliminary trials."

Leewan does as stated.

[Since Jacob is unable to post right now we'll put his character in a state of limbo until he can]

Gwain marches through the streets with a new purpose in his step. The flags and banners celebrating both the new King and the various houses in the tournament fly in the wind coming from the seas. Unfortunately, the archery tournament is not as beloved nor as glamorous as the joust or melees that draw large crowds and Gwain must head outside the city walls. As Gwain leaves the city proper he asks one of the guards on duty where the archery grounds are and sure enough the advice turns out to be right and he finds a flat field that has numerous targets set up in a practice range and the main range lining ten separate targets with a wooden podium set up behind where the contestants will stand.

A number of house families and civilians stand around in groups with some off in the distance on the nearby hills to get a better overall view. Already (even this early in the morning) Gwain can see three other individuals on the practice range drilling shots into the targets. Gwain approaches the small tent covering where a wooden desk is set up and a number of men working hard at organising the event move about. An older fellow in black robes and the mark of a Kings servant looks over to you as you approach and says,

"Name and house you represent. We'll also need to see your registration papers."

"Gwain von Griswald of house Griswald. Everything should be in order." Gwain hands over his papers and waits for further instruction.

The man looks over the papers for a couple moments and then hands them back with a nod and says "Early to the event huh? There are two preliminary matches before yours at high noon (heh). Do as you will until then."

Before you can try and ask any questions the man turns away and you can tell you won't get a word in inch wise with these people. Deciding to scope out the competition Gwain goes to watch those practising at the moment. Two of the three there are nothing special and are barely able to hit the bullseye reliably from fifteen paces. The third, however, who you do not recognise, is drilling shot after shot from forty paces in a near perfect grouping and several groups of people are watching with a fair amount of amazement.

Gwain watches the talented archer from a distances for several minutes before venturing close. After some time, he approaches one of the onlookers. "Who might that be?" he inquires.

The onlooker answers by saying "That's Niels Frey. His father is was proclaimed the greatest hero of Acren by the late King. By the looks of things he just may be as good as his father." As the man finishes his sentence Niels drills another shot into the target. He then walks over to his now pinned arrows and pulls them from their tight grouping and starts to exit the practice range.

"The greatest hero of all Acren you say? Hmm, that's quite a claim. Excuse me just one moment." Gwain reaches for his bow and carefully aims towards the bulls-eye at which Niels had been firing. Standing significantly farther from the target than Niels had [how far exactly depends on how far back the crowd is], Gwain looses a shot.

[25 on Marksmanship]

Gwain loses his arrow from a distance of around forty yards (not paces, turns out archery competitions are done in yards or meters. Had to look that one up). It flies through the air and connects with the bullseye with a thud. The young Frey turns to look at you after noticing the shot and says after a short chuckle "Nice shot." He then continues to walk from the practice range.

Leewan (and Robillard maybe), having been not very far behind Gwain, crests over a hill to see the archery competition range. He quickly notices Gwain notching an arrow from within the crowd and firing a shot at a target to show off. Rather unsurprised by his brothers actions, Leewan continues to walk down to find a good place to watch the events of the day.

"Thanks." Is all Gwain responds with before going to retrieve his arrow.

Robillard (who has totally been walking with Leewan to the match) smiles through his hangover. That shot of Gwain's seems to be his old competitive self showing through. Perhaps Gwain is on the road to recovery.