ilgatto
How inconvenient
An Adventure in Five Acts, Act IV: Return to Apple Island
In which the DM informs our noble heroes that they spent four days aboard The Lovely Theresa, one in Big Beach, two on The Black Owl, and then four to get to where they are now. He also says that the capital of Thuxra has a combined population of 600 souls, spread evenly among the town proper and an outlying area dotted with numerous farms.
Day 11, continued: The Palavan captain takes his leave and our noble heroes start after Sir Oengus.
“Gentlemen,” Sir Suvali says, when our noble heroes are together again and about halfway to the river. “I have something to say.”
When the others have stopped, the sorcerer falls to his knees.
“I ask your forgiveness for my behavior,” he says. “Gentlemen, I am sorry. It may have been the thrill of flying around in that machine that sent my head spinning and led to my irresponsible behavior. Perhaps it was the events of the past week that drove me to hasty decisions I now regret. Whatever the reason, I humbly ask your forgiveness.”
Navarre looks at the kneeling sorcerer with mixed feelings. He decides not to say anything for the moment.
“I see now that I should not have drawn the sword without conferring with all of you,” the sorcerer continues. “I admit that I could not restrain myself and that it was a foolish act.”
When no one reacts, he continues: “The decision was mine and mine alone. Sir Eber is not to blame. I approached him when he was tired and I played on his own desire to draw the sword. I left him no choice. For this, gentlemen, Sir Eber, I offer you my full and unreserved apologies.”
The chevalier is the first to react, a tear in his eye.
“Mon cher!,” he cries. “I, too, do not know what came over me to start acting like my father!”
The sorcerer politely averts his eyes. Navarre looks at the chevalier with a raised eyebrow.
“Rise mon ami!,” the chevalier continues. “All is forgiven!”
The sorcerer looks at the rest of his noble fellows and most of them nod some form of agreement.
“I suggest we establish a council,” he continues. “A council in which we all have one vote, except the King, who shall have two votes and the right of veto. Just like we were taught at the Academy.”
“Hell, yeah!,” Sir Oerknal says. “I like it!”
“I, for one, will pledge allegiance to such a council,” Sir Eber says.
“Bravo!,” the chevalier cries. “I agree!”
“I’m not one to hold a grudge,” Sir Oengus says.
“Then it is agreed,” Sir Suvali says, getting to his feet. “Now, before we go on, I would propose to you a change of plan. While we agreed to go to Sarazin and Dauberval to rally whatever remains of the armies there and then join the effort to retake Apple Island, I say a change is in order now that we have the Sword of Shadows. I believe that, from now on, we must avoid the enemy at all costs. They will look for us among the royalists and joining their armies is a risk we cannot take.”
Navarre is not so sure about that. At the very least, it would mean that the enemy would have to deal with the royalists at full strength.
“Suppositions,” the chevalier says. “But first, I am relieved that we can let the past be the past! As to your proposition, I would say that the notion that the enemy knows that we have the sword seems premature. While I admit that they will now know that the sword is no longer on the Isle of Bread, all they can know about us is that ‘du monde’ took the sword. I say we still have the momentum and that we must keep it. That way, the enemy will have to deal with the advancing royalist armies as well as ‛des inconnus’ with the sword – us.
“I suggest a twofold plan. First, we shall take our responsibility and rally the royalists in some unknown location. Note that, this way, we will still remain out of sight of the enemy. Second, and depending on the outcome of this, we shall consider undertaking another mission – perhaps an operation behind enemy lines.”
“And then let them know who we are?,” Sir Oerknal asks.
“Non,” the chevalier says. “We must give the enemy as little information as possible.”
“I still think we should stay away from the royalists,” Sir Suvali says. “So far, the enemy seems quite aware of what goes on in the realm and us joining the royalist army could betray their position. We must forget about the military side of things and begin operations behind enemy lines immediately.”
“Piffle!,” the chevalier cries. “How can they know about us?”
He turns to Navarre, who hasn’t spoken a word yet: “Mon cher. Why so silent? What say you?”
Navarre turns to face the sorcerer.
“I accept your apologies, Sir,” he says, with a formal nod of the head. “I applaud the idea of a council and I shall honor its decisions. As to your new plan, Sir, perhaps you can tell me what you think it is we should do ‘behind enemy lines’?”
“Gather information,” the sorcerer says. “Learn as much about the enemy as we can.”
“Commendable,” Navarre says. “But would you desert your people, Sir? Leave Mim and Palava to clean up this mess?”
“A river dies when its source is blocked,” the sorcerer says.
“Wise words, sans doute,” the chevalier says. “But how do they pertain to our future?”
“I say we stay on course as planned,” Sir Oengus says. “We still have the element of surprise.”
“Tiens!,” the chevalier cries. “We must keep the momentum! Join the royalists and charge into battle!”
“We’ll be easier to find if we linger in locations where they expect us,” the sorcerer says. “We cannot risk the sword falling into enemy hands. We must watch our backs and act as effectively as possible.”
“Can we do this on board?,” Sir Oengus says. “We’ll have to get to the lake in any case and the skipper isn’t very likely to hang around much longer.”
“Wouldn’t that rather depend on the fee you seem to have promised the good captain?,” Navarre asks, nodding at the bag of diamonds in the hand of his noble fellow.
Sir Oengus tosses the bag into the air and catches it again.
“Best be prepared,” he says, grinning at the chevalier. “Right! Parley is over, lubbers! Go, go, move, move, confuse the enemy. Action everywhere and in all locations. Handsomely now!”
“Oerknal?,” Sir Suvali asks.
“We compromise,” the creature says. “We gather the armies of the peacocks and hand them over to the other peacocks. After that, we start looking for some answers. Get to the source, go rimward.”
“Gentlemen,” Sir Suvali says. “Your votes.”
“Yea,” Sir Oerknal says.
“Yea,” the chevalier cries.
“Yea,” Sir Eber says.
“Yea,” Sir Oengus says.
“I abstain,” Navarre says. Although he has promised to honor the decisions of the council, he has a hard time accepting that it now seems more than likely that he will not be able to lead his men in the fight against the enemy.
With this, our noble heroes continue to the river. When they enter the palisade, Sir Oengus suggests they buy supplies and so blankets, rations, ropes, cloaks, oilskin coats, gloves, and cases of quarrels are bought.
The town is abuzz with people, from both Thuxra and Wyrsn. When asked about the fate of Wyrsn, the refugees fall over each other to inform our noble heroes of the unspeakable horrors they have witnessed there: ice giants running amok; witches invading; dragons in the skies laying waste to the land; bandits hanging all nobles they can get their hands on; Ulm himself being on a rampage, reaping souls for his shadowy realm. Infuriatingly, nobody seems to know what really happened on the other side of the river.
When our noble heroes get to the barge Sir Oengus has chartered, a stout man, obviously the captain, appears on deck and gruffly welcomes them aboard.
When the barge is on its way, the captain turns out to be as taciturn as they get – until Sir Oengus procures a large bottle of rum. However, the man has but little to say about the situation in Wyrsn, especially when Sir Oengus starts talking rivers, barges, ropes, favorable winds, and the summer weather and the pair lose themselves in banter nobody else can understand.
Sir Suvali spends the rest of the day in the air – when he is not in the water or crashing onto the deck. Navarre decides not to remind the sorcerer of his own suggestion to keep a low profile.
With Sir Suvali thus occupied, the others try to make sense of the outrageous stories regarding the situation in Wyrsn, eventually concluding that the tales about ‘commoners having taken control of the duchies’ actually seem the least improbable – however improbable they may be. They discuss logistics and conclude that it will probably take them six days to get from Thuxra to Dauberval by barge and that it will therefore probably take them a ten-day, perhaps eleven days, to get, perhaps, 20 barons and around 1,200 soldiers to some location on the duskward shores of King’s Lake. They consider sending a herald with word of as much to the royalists in Palava, but the idea is abandoned when the chevalier points out that the whole operation would be blown if this herald would be captured.
Just before dusk, the barge reaches a jetty on the left bank, where a ferry connects both sides of the river, right on the border between Thuxra and Dara. Many barges are moored here and folk are seen moving on the shore – bargemen, refugees, stranded passengers, merchants. Our noble heroes disembark and start for the the riverside inn.
“Attention mes amis!,” the chevalier whispers when they enter the inn. “We are incognito. We shall be fermiers!”
“I’m off for some tail,” Sir Oerknal announces. He heads to the bar and starts talking to the innkeeper.
Reacting to this by rising a single eyebrow, Navarre decides to see if he can get any information on recent events but, once again, doesn’t really get anywhere. This time, the tallest tales speak of the people having risen up against the oppressor; of bandits ruling Wyrsn; of three dukes being behind the whole thing; of ice giants landing in Big Beach; and so on, and so on. Of more interest is news that no barges can get to the lake because of an enemy blockade further downstream. Apparently, six barges manned by ‛bandits’ prevent all traffic from passing.
When he eventually gets to the table where most of his noble fellows are seated, the innkeeper is just putting some jugs of ale on the table.
“What,” he ventures. “No wine?”
“Your health, Lord,” the innkeeper replies, bowing slightly.
“Pas nécessaire, aubergiste,” the chevalier says. “We are fermiers.”
The innkeeper has a good look at him and shrugs his shoulders.
“As you wish, Lord,” he says, before starting back to the bar.
“Donnant donnant, aubergiste!,” the chevalier calls after him, tapping the table. “How much for these breuvages?”
The innkeeper turns around.
“Not at all, Lord,” he says. “Your bearded friend has already paid with gold.”
“Le nain?,” the chevalier cries. “But I have never seen the creature in my life!”
“Certainly, Lord,” the innkeeper says. “All has been taken care of – a meal, beer, lodgings.”
“Lodgings?,” the chevalier asks.
“Best rooms in the house, Lord,” the innkeeper says.
“The best rooms?,” the chevalier exclaims. “But there is no need! We require no more than some sacks of hay!”
“Certainly, Lord,” the innkeeper says. “I’ll have them brought to your rooms.”
This goes on for a bit, with the chevalier failing miserably to impersonate a farmer and the innkeeper wisely agreeing to everything he says. Obviously, the man has dealt with his fair share of nobles.
Navarre decides to leave his noble fellows to their little charade. He has a meal and some ale and then retires.
Day 12: The barge leaves at first light and the day passes without any random encounters, even though the traffic increases rather than decreases. At the end of the day, the barge drops anchor at another jetty with an inn that doubles as a general store. Some more supplies are bought and Sir Oengus, who has suggested that they may have to ram their barge into barricade if they want to get to the lake, acquires some nets, tar, torches, and tinder.
When our noble heroes get to the common room, Navarre starts asking around for news again, to find that, now, most people seem to agree that the commoners have revolted and that bandits currently rule the duchies.
“But why?,” Navarre asks one of the men who has told him such a story. “What could the commoners possibly gain from such a revolt? How could they have organized their ‘revolt’ without anybody noticing anything?”
“They are men of Ulm,” the man says. “A new era is upon us.”
“That’s what I heard,” a second man says. “Every village has its own council, speaking justice, hanging the oppressors and confiscating their goods.”
“These councils won’t last,” Sir Oengus says. “In the end, all hands be wantin’ a single captain.”
“I cannot believe it,” Navarre says. “Every village? How would these people know where to begin? It will lead to chaos and indecision!”
“Sure enough,” another man scoffs. “No beer’s been delivered in four days! People’s councils! Ulm take ’em all!”
Navarre decides he has had enough and retires. Sir Oengus spends much of the rest of the evening fabricating tar bombs.
Day 13: As the day progresses, there is less and less traffic on the river until our noble heroes are the only ones still going downstream. At various locations along the shore, barges have dropped anchor and are offloading their cargo.
“Bandits downstream!,” a man yells when Navarre asks him what he is doing. “They won’t let nobody pass and I won’t have these bastards confiscate my cargo for their bastard revolution! We’re dumping everything here! Let the miller come and get his stuff himself!”
“How many men on the blockade?,” Navarre hollers.
“Sixty!,” the man yells back.
The barge enters the Lake District just after six o’clock that evening. On the left bank, our noble heroes see many people moving among the trees.
Sir Suvali takes to the air again and flies some ten minutes downstream until he gets to where the ferry must be. There are no barges blocking the river, although he does see some five or six of them moored on the Wyrsn side. Furthermore, all manner of vessels appear to be transporting what must be hundreds of people across the river. From what he can see, they appear to be soldiers but he doesn’t dare get close enough so as to be able to identify them.
“We can get to the lake,” he says, when he gets back. “There’s no blockade. Lots of soldiers, though.”
“No blockade?,” Navarre asks. “Soldiers? What banners?”
“Hard to say. They seem organized enough but I don’t think they are the enemy.”
“Then who are they?,” Navarre asks. “The royalists from Palava? How did they get here so fast? Are they men from Dara on the move?”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” the sorcerer says.
An hour later, the barge arrives at the lake ferry, where, sure enough, a veritable fleet of boats, rafts, and barges are getting hundreds of soldiers across the river. When they get close enough, our noble heroes recognize banners from Mim, Bagabuxsha, Thuxra, Dara, and Palava.
”By Olm!,” Navarre yells. “They are the men from Palava!”
Sir Oengus drops anchor and our noble heroes find themselves ashore on the left bank about half an hour later, among many, many soldiers moving to and fro and waiting to board the vessels. Some are definitely wounded and most look tired, albeit quite pleased with themselves.
“Who is in command, soldier?,” Navarre asks one of them.
“High-ups over there,” the soldier says, pointing downstream.
Navarre starts walking downstream, with his noble fellows in tow. When he reaches to a guarded clearing, the chevalier rather unceremoniously pushes past him and addresses one of the guards.
“Hail the King!,” he calls, straightening his back. “What is the plan?”
“Stand aside, citizens!,” the guard replies. “This is a dangerous place. Lay doggo until we have cleaned up here.”
“Who is in command?,” the chevalier asks.
“That’ll be His Excellency Duke Mim III the Younger to you.”
“Sarazin,” the chevalier says.
“Then you’re on the wrong side of the lake,” the guard says.
Navarre wonders if this means that Sarazin troops are on the move on the other side of the lake but this notion escapes the chevalier, who presently shows the guard his ring. The guard has a good look at it and then hollers a passing soldier: “Private! Take these brass to the officers’ club.”
“If you would follow me, Lords,” the soldier says, starting downstream. En route, our noble heroes discuss what to tell the nobles when they get there and, more importantly, what not. They decide not to mention that they have the Sword of Shadows and to omit any details that might lend an air of exaggeration to their story – no magic, no giants, not a word about the strange map they found on the Isle of Bread.
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