A King To Be

Being at Belfour castle has been good. As I mingled with the inhabitants of the place, I sought information on the road ahead and on our destination. I didn’t find out anything that I didn’t already know or suspect. As one draws closer to the wild, the settlements become further and further apart and often less friendly to strangers. We weren’t much of a caravan when we set out on this mission to claim Sir Frederikson’s lands and we are now considerably diminished. We have a donkey, a three legged dog and enough warrior rations (a mix of dried meat, fruit and fermented grains) to last us until we reach Risoria, Sir Frederikson’s inheritance. Despite the situation, I have a good feeling about the road ahead. Frederikson has an indomitable spirit and seems to have renewed his resolve to give this enterprise all of his might and will. He will become the count of Risoria and restore it to it’s former glory.

In my traveling I have had the privilege of learning from many great individuals- simple farmers and craftsmen to great lords and kings. They all shared a spark, a love of life and adventure. Frederikson isn’t much to look at, a skinny young man in a rumpled mud splattered cloak and riding a skittish horse, but I have seen that spark in him.

It is my duty as his only servant to gather men for our journey. It will be perilous but it is nothing compared to the the task that lays ahead of taming the land that has been left desolate and become infested with goblins and thieves. If we hope to accomplish anything we will need man power, strong allays and true friends.

Marie

Leaving Again

Jord has been teaching me to fight.  We managed to procure some supplies for our journey, and Jord took it upon himself to buy me a sword.  It is a long thin sword called a rapier.  Apparently taken from a pirate some years back found its way inland to a Belfour armory.  I have never had the arm strength to use the broadswords or battle axes of my own people, but this is as light as a feather.  I am already developing callouses on my hands.
We left Belfour castle this morning, and as I write this we are riding still.  Spook makes it hard to write with all his shying.  I am apprehensive about our prospects going forward, but there is no other option for me.  I either claim my inheritance, or I live a beggar for the rest of my life.  To be completely honest the prospect was beginning to look quite inviting until I met Marie.  I have found a new source of motivation for taking my county.  I suppose I shall have to be a very successful count indeed to turn the head of a Dukes's daughter.
More than likely I am a fool going to a fools death.  Jord says it is better to die a fool chasing the clouds than a wise man lying in the dirt.  I have no idea what he means but it does sound quite poetic.

The Tortoise wasn't very fast but Tommy found him to be a very reliable steed. If fed well it could keep up its slow plodding for days going day and night.
Eventually he planned on building a small house on its back. Tommy, being a wanderer by nature liked waking up to new surroundings every morning.

Have you ever been caught in a rainstorm for three days? It was miserable to say the least. The cowardly deserters made off with our rain gear, along with most of the food. I was lucky enough to bring down a deer with my sling. I dried the meat over the fire, it was hard and really not all that good, but it gave us much needed energy. I made a rain coat of sorts out of the skin for Sir Frederikson. He is small and unaccustomed to exposure, and was suffering greatly from the cold. The skin smelled bad and looked worse, but it kept him warm and dry. I was quite impressed with Sir Frederikson despite the miserable circumstances we were in. He didn't complain and was a good sport about the whole thing, even managing to chuckle and laugh at my pathetic attempts at humor.
Since arriving at Belfour Castle, I have done my best to restock our supplies. I traded two days of work at the smithy for a donkey. One of our attackers had been carrying a very nice sword of fine steel with gold inlay in the handle. I sold it and was able to purchase enough provisions to get us to our destination, I hope.


One last note. For being such a small fellow, Sir Frederikson is quite resilient. He took a beating in the attack, though he fought bravely. He has suffered from cold, wet and bad food and yet by the day after our arrival at Belfour Castle, you would never have guessed it.

Belfour Castle

We have finally reached Belfour.  The rains came just after the battle, and a single days journey became three.  Our horses slogged through mud that sometimes came right up to the little mares belly.  Once Jord and I had to drag my horse, I call him Spook, out of the mud when he lost his footing and his composure.  Had it not been for Jord’s great strength he would have drowned or broken a leg. 

We were a sorry sight this morning when we arrived at the castle gate, and I believe it was only my name that got us in.  A hot bath and good food has improved my spririts though I am still saddened by the loss of my men, horses, and hounds.  Lord Belfour had sent out men to search for my lost property, but I have little hope that it will ever be found. 

We had the pleasure of meeting Lord Belfour’s daughter Marie shortly after arrival.  She is a terrible beauty with long blonde hair and blue eyes.  I’m afraid I didn’t make much of a first impression on her in my bedraggled muddy state.  Something about her makes me want to see her again though I cannot say why. 

We will stay here a few days, recover, restock our supplies, and then Jord and I will continue our journey.  Perhaps we will attract less unwanted attention as a group of two.  Jord tells me that when he traveled with the Vikings they often split into small groups to avoid attention.  Sometimes I think that man has been everywhere there is.

A SHOVEL NAMED BILL

Jord.

No one thinks of a shovel when they think of a weapon, there are no famous shovels. There are legendary swords, arrows, knives, whips, but no shovels.

Because of this, I tried my hand at just about every kind of weapon, and found myself to be decent, but they never felt natural to me. I was too slow with the ax and broad sword, under stress my arrows tended to fly wild and my accuracy with a throwing knife was not dependable. Eventually I settled on the sword. I was okay with it and I liked the intimidation factor.

One day I was working on a ditch when a gang of goblins attacked me. All I had was my shovel, so that is what I used. I spun, jumped, smashed, chopped and beat my way through them like a fat boy working on a pinata. As I stood there, gazing at the dust cloud of their retreat, I had an epiphany. I had always been good with a shovel. It was a gift. I could move and shape earth faster and better than anyone I knew. The shovel became my primary tool for close combat. Years later I saved an elfin princess from her would-be kidnappers and her father presented me with a battle shovel, especially commissioned and built for me. The blade is made of fine steel, the handle is elfin hickory, and the whole thing cured in bull oger pee. Yes, I said pee. It is gross, but a weapon soaked in bull oger pee is pretty much indestructable, so I dealt with it.

I named my shovel Bill, after one of my heroes, the biggest Billy Goat Gruff, the legendary troll hunter. People look at me funny when I speak about my battle shovel, but results are results and they learn to respect the shovel.

Disaster

Two days into our journey and disaster has struck.  It was yesterday just after noon the heat of the sun bearing down on us as our horses plodded along.  All except Jord’s horse, he rides a tiny little mare that he picked up while he traveled with a Viking ship, she has seemingly endless amounts of stamina and prances along happily all day.  My own horse is too nervous to plod, an incredibly annoying trait for a horse although it likely saved my life in this case.  I had just stopped for a moment to take care of some business, and was trotting my horse back to the front of our ragged group to pester Jord into telling me another story from his many adventures when suddenly my horse shied to the side.  I am a fair horseman, but caught off guard by his sudden movement I almost came off.  As I clung to the horses’ side (I should really name the beast I’ll have to give it some thought) I heard the distinct whistle of an arrow pass through the air where my chest would have been, and then a solid thunk as it imbedded itself in a tree just behind  me on the side of the road. 

Four more arrows had flown simultaneously with the one that missed me.  Two of my men lay in the dirt, and one was slumped lifeless in his saddle.  The fifth arrow had been for Jord, but by some blessing it missed it’s mark by a hair and was lodged firmly in the front of his saddle. 

Momentarily it seemed to me that everything froze in place, and then complete pandemonium.  “Shields!” Jord bellowed in a voice that sounded to me like it should have come from a bull not a man.  Of my six remaining men three brought up their shields, and three wheeled their horses around to flee.  I didn’t have a shield, so I jumped down off of my horse, and attempted to put his body between myself and wherever the arrows were coming from. 

Five more arrows followed Jord’s command, and the three fleeing men fell from their saddles as the fled.  One arrow hit the ground between my feet, and another stuck into Jord’s shield.  I could see our attackers now just ahead of us spread across the road.  I had just located them when Jord smashed into the middle of their line with his little mare.  My other men followed closely on his heels, and the battle commenced on even terms.  I am ashamed to say that at this point I lost control of my horse and he knocked me off my feet and bolted taking my sword with him. 

I jumped to my feet just as one of our attackers, a young man with an incredibly ugly face, leap from his galloping horse directly onto me.  I may not be much of a fighter, but I am a fair wrestler and stronger than I look.   I had managed to turn a little so that when we hit the ground neither of us had the advantage.  What possessed the man to leap from his horse I shall never know.  He could easily have stayed aloft, and lopped off my head at his pleasure as he rode by.  Battle has a way of ckearing some men’s minds, and making others into complete idiots.  It is my fortune that I am one of the former, and my opponent one of the latter. 

I held my own for a time as we wrestled among stamping panicked horses and the bodies of my unfortunate companions.  His superior size was greatly to his advantage however and soon I was on my back and his hands where firmly wrapped around my throat.  I don’t know if you have ever been choked to death, but it is unequivocally a terrible way to go. 

Just as the darkness began to close in on my vision a brown blur struck my killer directly in the chest knocking him off of me.  The three legged pup (I have since named him Beast) had seen my plight and come to my rescue.  I scrambled to my feet, and was about to jump back into the fray when Jord stepped in to save the day.  In his hands he carried the most beautiful shovel I have ever seen (I have since learned from him that it was a gift from an elf king) which he brought down with a thunderous smash on the head of the ugly man.  The battle was over.

Jord and I are unharmed though I am heavily bruised, and quite shaken.   My two remaining men stole away in the night with all but my horse, I assume they could not catch him, Jord’s mare, I assume they were too scared to even try to steal her, and Beast who refuses to leave my side.  We are a day’s journey or so from Balfour castle.  We shall travel there and attempt to win the favor of Duke Balfour a friend of my fathers.