“Useless ingrate!”

  A rge bowl of grapes was struck from the table whereupon it had previously rested, its contents spilling out across the carpet while the silver vessel itself bounced and rolled noisily until it collided with the wall. Sergeant Wilhelm winced at every reverberating cng it made as it crossed the floor. Nonetheless, he continued to stand rigidly upright beside the Lord-Mayor, after having just delivered a brief report about his failed mission. Predictably, Mayor Borney was furious, his temper running so hot that his sweaty, beet-red face practically emitting steam.

  “Leave me! Get out of my sight!” He cried, sending spittle flying from his mouth as he spat out the words.

  The Sergeant bowed dutifully–and with a level of relief he dared not show–at this command. “As you wish, my Lord.” He then departed as quickly as his fa?ade of cool professionalism would allow him to go. He was truly thankful that this most-dreaded meeting had ended so promptly.

  Mayor Borney csped a hand over his forehead, which throbbed with the vicious warning pulses of an oncoming headache. Damn it, this was supposed to be my excuse to remove those prudes in the First Company from their positions! How was I to expect that they would be the only men to return at all?!

  His mind turned to his insufferable guardian Baron Otkorn, the man who had raised him just as much as his own father had. The st time they had spoken the Baron had nonchantly waved off Borney’s concern that it might be difficult to maintain control over so many conscripted criminals.

  Those vagabonds must have killed their commanders and fled into the hills the moment that they were out of sight of the City… I told him that not all of these lowlifes would be swayed by the promise of coin or simple pleasures–now look at the mess I have to deal with!

  He peered suspiciously over at the two guards whose posts saw them stood at either corner of the opposite side of the room from the Lord-Mayor. The two men shared a quizzical look at his scrutiny, both of them unsure if their leering Lord was angry with them now as well, for whatever reason.

  Luckily, it appears that the loyalty of the rest of them can be bought, but I suppose that I must be wary of these too, now…

  It was then that the door creaked open, and the young servant Alvin crept nervously into the room. He gingerly made his way over to collect the fallen bowl and the grapes which had scattered about the carpet. For a while the Mayor watched as he cleaned up the mess in silence, but all too soon he rose to his feet and traipsed nearer to the d. Suddenly and without warning his leg whipped out with an unexpected speed as he sent a punting kick directly into the young man’s ribs! Alvin toppled to his side, gasping for air and clutching at his wounded side, before the Lord-Mayor began to rain a torrent of heavy kicks and stomps down upon his unresisting form.

  “You stupid boy! Roach! Rat! This is all your fault!” The rger man huffed out between panting breaths as he beat the smaller one in a rapid frenzy.

  “I took you in, fed you, gave you work–and this is how you repay me?!”

  Even the two rge and menacing guards looked on with growing discomfort at this regrettable, but not uncommon, assault. It occurred especially frequently after Alvin was caught aiding the Count in his escape. However, even before that, the Lord-Mayor would seek out poor young Alvin whenever he was feeling upset in order to berate him and beat him within an inch of his life. The two guards shared yet another look between each other, for just this kind of event had become a topic much discussed between the new arrivals from Otkorn: why the Mayor bullied this young servant in particur, and why the servant continued to remain in the Castle despite the abuse?

  After delivering a thorough beating Borney appeared quite winded by the exercise. Huffing and puffing, he fell back into his chair, which groaned slightly under his weight.

  “Toss him out.” Commanded the Mayor, and so the two guards then took the limp and nearly-unconscious young man by either arm and dragged him to the door, where they gruffly shoved him out into the hallway. After he had finally recovered from his exertions, the Mayor leaned forwards over the table and rested his chin upon his ced fingers.

  I should be commended for my mercy for taking that wretch in after his parents were gone, when I should have put him out onto the streets instead. Well, I only need to endure him for a few more days, and then I can finally be rid of that... nuisance!

  No sooner had the first shipment of goods arrived from Tukk than did the whole host of Castle Petrice set off to the Southeast towards the city of Coronton. They bore shoddy, short spears, rough and uneven coats of boiled leather, and tabards which had been hastily stitched with something that resembled the Crest of Petrice; it had inarguably been a rush-job and was not the finest example of the craftsmen's' work, but for now it would suffice. Still, for the several days their journey required, the volunteers found themselves constantly scratching themselves and rubbing away itchiness from their new uniforms, even as they simultaneously marveled at the novelty of having newly-made equipment at all.

  Through occasional backward gnces over his shoulder to observe their party, Niks decided that despite their subpar training and gear, as a unit they all looked sufficiently official and intimidating. Between the contingent of Knights, the Stoppridge militia, and the disparate groups of volunteers from Petrician vilges, they numbered a little over a hundred in total. The youngest and least experienced of the lot had been pced the farthest back in their lineup, closely preceded by their elders, who followed on the heels of Merida’s militiamen, who marched in an orderly fashion behind the gleaming, well-armored figures of the Knights upon their steeds in their gleaming armor. Niks only hoped that this careful arrangement of their troops, combined with the illusion of numbers, would be sufficient for the task ahead, for the younger folk were as of yet much too green to truly engage in battle.

  “We’re not far off now.” Thomas said aloud, though he seemed to be speaking more to himself than anyone in particur.

  Niks shot a gnce down at himself then, brushing away stray hairs or dust from the road that had stuck themselves to his attire during his travels. In lieu of one of those rough tabards, which were much too long for him to wear and made him appear somewhat silly, Niks had once again adorned himself in the fine emerald green dress uniform which he had worn for the Moot. Uldred, while for different reasons, also could not fit into the standard uniform, and so she simply dressed as she always did. Her usual ensemble already leant her sufficient recognition as well as intimidation.

  “When the fighting starts... stay behind me.” She ordered, her voice muffled as it was filtered through her expressionless mask.

  Niks set his jaw defiantly and pced his hand upon the hilt of the new sword which hung at his belt as he bit out his retort. “I am neither helpless nor a coward!”

  “But you are very small. And skinny. And weak.”

  Niks, who found himself unable to refute her reasoning, still stuck his nose in the air and folded his arms across his chest, letting out an affronted “Hmph!” Witnessing his pouting brought a small smile to Uldred’s lips, not that anybody else could see it.

  Just as Thomas had said, all too soon the mounted troops could see the tips of the tallest spires of Coronton’s Castle began to peek over the far hills, with the whole city steadily rising up as well to join them. Strangely enough, as they approached closely enough to make out further details, they observed that the City’s gate appeared to be ajar, as if it had not received word of their impending arrival, or perhaps because the men manning the gate were a disorganized and ckadaisical bunch; it was hard to tell. As the ragtag band grew ever-nearer to the walls of the City it became more evident that the tter assumption was true, as a distant and frantic shouting soon arose from the gatehouse before the portcullis finally fell into pce with a crash before them!

  “Damn.” Chuckled Lady Merida, who was riding beside the Count and Countess. “I was hoping they might just let us waltz right inside.”

  “Wh-who goes there?!” A young and unsteady voice called down to them from the top of the City walls.

  Niks opened his mouth to speak, only for the Countess to beat him to the punch. “I am Countess of Petrice. Open this gate, NOW!”

  Whoever it was up there–for they were only visible then as a small and dark silhouette against the sun–audibly shuddered at that. “The L-Lord Mayor said that nobody was to enter Coronton without his approval!”

  “Go and fetch him, then. For it will either be his head or yours to pay for this transgression!”

  For the duration of this exchange Niks had his palms pced quite firmly over his ears, for the Countess’ voice was so forceful and resonant that it rang quite painfully in his ears from where he rode just beside her. The man at the top of the gate vanished out of sight as quickly as he had appeared. Uldred sat back and folded her arms impatiently as they prepared to await a response from the fraudulent Lord-Mayor.

  “...He has thirty minutes.” She grumbled restlessly.

  She speaks as if she has the means to open the gate herself if it comes down to that… Niks thought to himself, and between her impressive figure and the cool confidence she exuded, he was not so sure that she couldn’t.

  The Petrician militiamen had just begun to break out the jerky and wineskins from their packs when their ears caught the sounds of many encroaching footsteps. Gathered behind the criss-crossed bars fortifying the gate were now many rge and menacing ruffians who were one and all armed with crude axes, maces or clubs, and who leered maliciously out at them. Disorderly as this mob of brigands was, even though they wore crude tabards bearing the crest of Coronton, they appeared more like a street gang than the official garrison force of a City. Even more of their lot peered down at them over the edges of the walls. Soon the throng parted slightly to allow a group of men to the front who were clearly distinguishable as soldiers from the First Company due to their disciplined formation and clean appearances, and finally the Lord Mayor Borney himself appeared high upon the City wall, and even from far below him, it was clear that his demeanor was quite composed and confident.

  “Why my Lord Count and my Lady Countess! It is quite uncouth to appear at our gates so suddenly, and without any notice. Surely you can imagine how unprepared I am for your arrival!” He called down to them, the sarcastic lilt that was still audible in his voice despite the distance betraying that he had obviously very much expected them.

  “You know why we are here, Lord Mayor! Open this gate so that we may speak on even terms and resolve this peacefully.” Niks called back up to him. “There is no need for bloodshed!”

  Borney leaned further over the ramparts and pced his hand like a visor upon his forehead, as if he were having trouble seeing.

  “Unfortunately, you are so small down there I cannot properly make you out! How am I to know if you are truly my Lord Count? Perhaps, if the two of you were to enter alone, without your entourage, we might be more comfortable... discussing terms. I promise you would be treated with the utmost hospitality!”

  The force of conscripts that had assembled at the gate sneered and let out a chorus of dark, mocking chuckles at that, apparently quite confident in their superior numbers and positions.

  “I grow tired of this nonsense. Open this gate, NOW! I am your Lord, and I command it!” Bellowed Uldred, her blunt and uncompromising command catching both of the more eloquent Lords by surprise. Mayor Borney’s fa?ade of composure was shaken by the sheer power she was able to bring into her voice, her years of commanding troops in battle having sharpened her skill to a razor sharpness. He coughed roughly into his hand and attempted to regain his cool, but his head took on a new and subtle shininess as beads of nervous sweat began to collect and drip down his brow.

  “O-on the contrary, Countess Petrice: you are my Lord no longer!” He announced then, turning to his mustachioed servant, who stepped out from behind the crenels carrying a long scroll of parchment in his arms, which he promptly unrolled and began to read aloud.

  “The City of Coronton, by the will of its Lord and its people, hereby secedes from the County of Petrice! No longer shall she suffer under the yoke of tyranny upheld by the Petrecian Lord and Lady. Instead, she shall henceforth enter into the ownership of the good Baron of Otkorn, and hereby stands within its borders!”

  The servant sheathed his scroll and stepped back to his previous position, a look of smug satisfaction apparent beneath his curly mustache.

  “There you have it!” The Lord Mayor called down, simirly vindictively pleased at his own cleverness. “Now, you will forgive me if I do not open this Gate for a foreign Lord who has arrived unannounced, yes?”

  The reactions amongst the militiamen ranged from shocked and appalled stares to furious and enraged cries. Ser Glorifeld seemed surprisingly calm despite the cmor, but upon a close inspection, one could see his fists were shaking where they gripped his reigns, and he appeared to be just barely containing himself from erupting in righteous fury.

  “How can you expect us to accept such a decration as official, when it comes from a man like yourself who engages in fraudulent activities?” Lady Merida called accusatorily up to him.

  Mayor Borney clicked his tongue down at the irate Lady-Mayor. “Tsk tsk, Lady Merida! Do I seem so low in your eyes that I would sign a Law that did not have the approval of my former Lord? Look here, it has the Seal of Petrice stamped upon it!” He replied triumphantly.

  A few shocked eyes turned to gaze upon Niks from among the Coronton soldiers stationed along the walls, for they had no knowledge of the Lord Mayor’s theft of the official Petrician Seal. To them, it appeared as if the Count really had signed off on this preposterous succession. Niks, for his part, wore a dark expression, and the Lord Mayor pointedly held his gaze, gloating at having put the young Count into a position of checkmate.

  I should have guessed that all of this mess was simply due to Baron Otkorn desiring a few extra miles of nd for his borders.

  “Such a petty reason…” Niks griped, shaking his head in disapproval.

  “W-what was that?” The Mayor called down in faux concern, all while smirking like the cat that got the cream.

  But the Mayor balked when Niks next looked up to meet the his eyes, for the younger man was grinning widely himself, and his eyes shone with unexpected confidence.

  “I said,” Niks annunciated boldly, “That the issue regarding my stamp is not what makes the secession fraudulent, Lord-Mayor!”

  It was now Borney’s eyes that widened in shock, and he nearly took a step backwards, but recovered his composure just in time. “Wh-what are you implying?”

  Niks then held out his hand, into which Lady Merida pced a neat scroll of parchment she had retrieved from her satchel.

  “During my research on the Hereditary Title of Coronton, I stumbled upon some most peculiar information!”

  Borney’s face fell then, and his manservant’s expression paled, as the two conspirators found their breaths catching anxiously in their throats.

  “Lord-Mayor Eobard Borney, once deceased, will thereby pass his fortune, his nd, and his Title unto his designated heir, under the supervision of his brother, Edmonton Borney–”

  “Stop!” The rge man upon the wall cried down towards his diminutive accuser. Niks coughed into his hand, before he looked back up at Borney’s face, which had gone palid with fear and dismay. He then resumed reading from the scroll.

  “--his brother, Edmonton Borney, ward of the Baron Otkorn, who shall serve as regent up until his rightful heir and son Alvin Borney comes of age, who thereafter shall be christened the Lord-Mayor of Coronton!”

  “Alvin Borney is dead!” Edmonton Borney decred. “He died years ago along with his father and mother!”

  “How curious it is, then, that while I was unwfully and unreasonably detained in your castle, I spoke with a d who bore a striking resembnce to the rightful heir of Borney, whom I just described! ”

  An uproarious cmor erupted then from the militiamen who stood at Niks’ back, and from the Coronton citizens who had secretly gathered in the area as well, who had been listening to this conversation from the corners of shadowed alleyways and peeking out from behind covered windows. Borney looked wildly about as he noticed just how many of his people had borne witness to this scandal, before leaning back over the wall again to gre down at the Count below. His face had more than regained its color then, and had indeed reddened to rival the color of a ripe tomato in the face of his overwhelming embarrassment and rage!I am gd that he exposed his deceitful nature so readily. Thought Niks, feeling equal parts mischievous, relieved, and guilty. I doubt the document I forged would have held up to any true scrutiny, but nobody will think to question it when Borney has all but admitted his guilt...

  “So,” He continued, “you understand why I cannot accept your notice of secession, my good sir, for it was neither penned nor signed by the hand of your rightful Lord!” Niks called up to them, his expression now reflecting back to Borney the same Cheshire grin that he had been wearing himself just a few moments prior . “Oh, and on that note,” the Count continued to twist the knife with a faux nonchance, “would you care to remind me just what age our young Alvin turned this past season...?”

  Borney opened his mouth then to sling some horrible curse down upon Niks, but he was interrupted by the distinct sound of swords being drawn from their scabbards! As he turned around in arm, he was met with the sight of a dozen soldiers from the First Company, their swords held in white-knuckled grips, and their faces grim with barely-contained rage. “Is what we just heard true, Borney?” Demanded Sergeant Wilhelm, pointedly referring to the erstwhile undisputed Mayor of the city by his name alone.

  The fraudulent Lord turned to face him, doing his best to recover some of his former composure, although his forehead was still moist with sweat and his face was flushed red with anger.

  “Why, Sergeant? Are you embarrassed that I tricked you, made you rob from your friends and neighbors like a bandit, and made you return afterwards to watch as I battered your rightful Lord?” He spat at the soldier, who inched closer to the vilin and readied his sword to strike him down at any moment. None of this deterred Borney’s provocations. “You and your lot, so ‘honorable’ and ‘righteous’... na?ve is more like it! I’m gd that I will finally be rid of you all after today!” He roared, , a poisonous light entering his eyes as he then raised one bejeweled hand and snapped his fingers.

  No sooner had he done so than did those brutish Otkornian thugs descend in a rain of violence upon those member of First Company, the true soldiers of Coronton. They beat them down with clubs and axes in such overwhelming numbers that they rendered the loyalist soldiers’ superior skills and equipment, along with their vain attempts to defend themselves, completely useless. In only a moment, the crowded walls and gate of Coronton had descended into utter chaos! Against the odds the outnumbered soldiers of Coronton struggled desperately to preserve their lives, but it was all in vain.

  Suddenly a cry of warning arose from off to Niks’ left! Around the side of the city walls emerged a great horde of Borney’s men. While the Lords had argued back and forth, these men had gathered and steadily made their way behind the visiting Militia in order to catch them by surprise! They fell upon the unsuspecting assembly of vilgers and Knights with faces twisted into vicious and excited grins. As Niks turned his head to see the cause of the commotion, he was just in time to watch as a particurly rge and muscle-bound man charged towards him, hoisting a rge masonry hammer above his head with both arms as he approached. Before Niks had time to react, the attacker swung his weapon down upon the frail Count with all the momentum and strength he could muster, and a shower of blood spattered the dry grass beneath them!