The Conclave

23.13.1623

The Drawing room.

Redwater Keep.

Algrim

…

RECENTLY, THE WEATHER HAD GROWN much colder as the late summer warmth slowly, but surely, gave way to the despairing chill of the coming winter. Lancelot pulled on the slightly on the fringes of his woolen coat, casting a contemplative glance at the young lord where he sat at the head of the table. The atmosphere in the chamber was stifled by an unspoken soberity even as the cold chill blew in from the open window. Despite this though, the Earl seemed ignorant, or rather, impervious to tension saturating the air. He sat crossed-legged whilst reading a codex, his index finger tapping rhythmically on the book’s leather-bound edge. His expression, musing.

The mid-sized table situated in the centre of the chamber was rather crowed. Looking from his left to right, Lancelot observed the facial expressions of the menin the room. Sir Mannon and Sir Turiel conversed about some matters regarding the town’s(Greenfields’) affairs to his immediate left.

Directly across from Lancelot sat Sir Carter. The older knight had his eyes closed and hands clasped dourly on the table before him. Being significantly older than the rest of them, the recently hectic pace the Earl was driving them must be quite burdensome for him, to say the least. Seated on the old veteran’s right was Sir Drive, a rather young knight who showcased great valour during the battle for Redwater. The fellow quietly listened in to Sir Mannon’s And Turiel’s discussion, only speaking to reply when directly spoken to.

Although he wasn’t fortunate enough to witness it himself, the tales of how the young knight’s quick-wittedness and courage saved the lives of almost a dozen men during the chaos had easily won Lancelot’s goodwill. Lancelot's expectations for the young man were very high. Thankfully, the young lord knew enough to properly recognise the knight for his actions.

Directly behind the young lord to his left was Steward Robert, the family butler. Most of the time, it was easy to forget the man was even there until the moment you needed him. As always, he stood silently with his hands folded behind his back, blending almost perfectly with the background in his light grey coat.

There was a soft knocking on the door.

"Come in," the Earl said, shutting the codex before putting it aside.

"You summoned me, My Lord?" Sir Justin asked as he walked into the chamber looking a bit worse for wear. The ever-resourceful knight must have been ushered directly here upon arrival from his latest assignment. Lancelot could have almost sworn that even Lord Aden himself didn’t work the poor boy to the bone at the pace at which the earl was going. Thankfully, Lancelot could fully guarantee Sir Justin’s loyalty. The duke was who made him who he is today after all. If Lord Aden didn’t come along, he might as well be rotting in some gutter in the slums of Greystones.

…But, the same could be said about Sean. Yet, look how that turned out.

Hmm...

Lancelot made a mental note to speak to the young lord about his treatment of the knights, Sir Justin in particular, immediately after this meeting.

"Yes," Earl Levi said, snapping Lancelot out of his thoughts. The young lord gestured to an empty seat beside Sir Drive. Sir Carter's eyes snapped open as the younger knight made his way in. “Please, join us," Earl Levi added with an authoritative calmness that still somehow managed to project politeness.

"We don’t have much time on our hands, so I'd rather not waste it," The Earl said as Sir Justin made himself comfortable. He eased back into his seat, leaning on the chair's left armrest as he rest his right cheek on his palm. "The capital is under Hertalean occupation," he said, "His Majesty, the king, has most probably been taken hostage, and my father whose location is currently unknown might have already been captured. Or in a worst-case scenario, dead.”

Lancelot frowned as he heard that. He shared a gaze with his fellow knights to realise they were also unnerved by the earl’s callous tone.

“I won’t coddle anyone present here,” Levi said. “He is my father, and yet I have already steeled my mind in preparation for the worst possible scenario. Doing otherwise would be unproductive. A pointless waste of time and effort.”

Lancelot agreed… but, isn’t that just… cold?

The earl spoke nothing more of that, ending the topic with a dismissive air. “One of the reasons I called you here today is because I heard there have been quite a few disgruntled voices amid the knightage about my most recent decisions.”

“It’s nothing serious my liege,” Sir Carter replied with an undertone of urgency which Lancelot wholly approved. The young lord was still… well, young. Regardless of how level-headed he appeared to be, it wouldn’t be absurd for someone his age to react negatively to such news and do something drastic in response.

But, it appeared Lancelot was worried for nothing since the earl simply raised his free hand gently in a calming gesture. “Relax, Sir Carter,” he said, “I am not so unreasonable as to restrict the thoughts and opinions of my valued men. In fact, I called you all here today first to clear any doubts you might have. This way you may assuage the rest of the men on my behalf. It’s the least I could do in return for their faithful service to this date.”

Lancelot simply exhaled softly in response. That was quite gracious and tolerant, but given the Earl’s actions over the past few weeks, it was getting harder to feel surprised at what would otherwise have been quite surprising. The viscount could feel himself slowly growing numb to his liege’s numerous oddities.

“I am listening,” the Earl said calmly.

“...Uhm,” Sir Drive began carefully. It came as a surprise to Lancelot as the young knight had mostly kept to himself. It was somewhat odd to see be the first to speak. “I understand the need for more skilled men, my liege,” he began, “but isn't it risky to have knights from Redwater train the militia? Several men, myself included, have doubts as to why you would permit even a few of them access to any weapons at all.”

“Well, first let me correct that,” Levi replied. “Of the Redwater knights that decided to cooperate in exchange for better treatment and a chance to buy their future back, a large majority have been tasked simply with training the militiamen on how to read and write, a task that is quickly starting to prove quite frustrating for most. The few that have been chosen to train the militiamen with weapons have been properly screened by viscount Lancelot and Sir Carter. They are only tasked to duel the trainees and always under the strict supervision of at least two of our own.”

"I heard about that, my lord,” Sir Justin spoke up. “The literacy lessons you arranged for the militiamen. Many of the men find it baffling that you would spend resources to have common peasant soldiers educated.”

Lancelot nodded faintly as the question was asked. He also noticed a few other nods of agreement around the table. It was indeed a strange decision and initially, Lancelot was against it, but at the earl’s insistence, the plan was eventually carried out.

“Also,” Sir Justin added, “there is the monthly salary you intend to pay to these men as well as that ‘pension’ thing you mentioned. They already get free food three times a day, I don’t see the benefit in giving money to men who would eventually die on the battlefield or desert when things turn unfavourable.”

Lancelot nodded again and turned towards Levi for his response. Oddly enough, as his gaze travelled across the men gathered the young lord looked… disappointed. For some reason, it almost felt like he had some expectation they had collectively failed to meet.

Levi turned to look out the open window to his left, sighing faintly for a moment before turning back to face them. The disappointment on his face had disappeared and only an expressionless visage remained.

“I want you to ask yourselves this question,” the young lord began, “what would make a better knight? An uneducated one who would be useless outside of charging at an enemy in front of him or a learned one who would be able to effectively lead his lessers into that battle?”

The table fell silent

“You still don't see it?” Levi asked.

“...You want us to train militiamen who would be able to lead others into battle?” Sir Mannon replied with some hesitation.

“No,” the Earl replied with hint of exasperation. “I want you to train militiamen who would be able to train others to lead their lessers into battle. We’ve discussed this before, gathering loyal knights takes years, so these militiamen would be our only source of military power for a long while. I truly don’t care how inferior you think militiamen are in comparison to proper knights, in a batch of four hundred and fifty men I want to believe at least thirty would prove competent enough to somewhat fill in a knight’s role in battle.

“Think about it, why else would I insist on granting them monetary favours to secure their loyalty. Monthly salaries would mean working for me would guarantee a better life for themselves and encourage them to strive harder to become better soldiers. Pensions would guarantee a better life for their families should they die in battle.”

‘...That,’ Lancelot murmured to himself as the implications dawned on him. He could see the glimmer of realisation in the eyes of the men gathered. Even Robert who stood silently behind the young lord had a pensive look on his face. After all, the steward was the one who was most resistant to the idea of giving money out of the castle’s coffers to peasants when mere food should have sufficed. He must be seriously reconsidering his position in all of this.

"Are there any other questions," Levi asked with a small sigh. “If there are none, let’s move on to the next agenda for today. Robert.”

On cue, the steward pulled out a large scroll, rolling it out on the table before them and revealing the detailed map of Souville province drawn on it.

“Greenfields,” the young lord began, “is situated in one of the most strategic regions in Algrim. During peacetime, Souville province exerts significant influence over three of the major trade routes into Algrim. Namely, the Strega river that flows south from the kingdom of Quilton, the Three Kings Road extending from port Noga, Tequila through to Ithyr county in the northwest, and one of the two major Morgan sea routes east of the kingdom.

"With good intentions and a proof of his trust in Duke Aden, the king made my father the Viceroy of this province so that he may be a bulwark for his kingdom. Access to these routes would normally be beneficial as the heightened access to merchants and their trade routes would mean a corresponding increase in commerce and the value they commute."

Lancelot observed as Levi paused looking up from the scroll, his gaze skimming over his audience.

"But now, this ease of accessibility is detrimental to our cause. The kingdom, at this point, is laden with hostile forces. The capital is under Hertalean occupation and the enemy now has access to the Strega putting their armies just a few short weeks away.

“Margrave Hera’s forces at the capital would also be returning next spring. It’s only thanks to the fact that I could convince Gilbert to continue writing to his father under my supervision that the margrave hasn’t been alerted yet to our fool-play. If not, we might have been expecting to see an enraged Hera and his forces at our doorsteps much, much earlier.

"Across the border we guard is Quilton, a predominantly neutral kingdom with glaring ambitions to expand given their extensive influence in the old tribes' politics. And within the borders of this province, rebellion festers. The Hera's recent stunt is a clear indication of this."

"Thankfully though," Levi continued, "this coming winter would be a respite. Once the Strega freezes up and the Three Kings road is clogged with knee-deep snow we should be somewhat safe from most of the forces that could threaten us.”

“...What do you suggest we do, young lord?” Sir Carter finally spoke. “We could try diplomacy with the other Margraves since it seems they are so interested in amassing power, but I doubt that would work?”

“Diplomacy?” Levi asked as he raised one brow. “And what do you suggest we give them then in exchange for their support? Territory? Money? Or the Iron mine?”

The older knight simply sighed at Levi’s pointed question.

“Any other ideas?”

“...”

The young lord calmly watched before suddenly rising to his feet to lean over the table and with a charcoal nib he drew four crosses on the map.

“Emanmog, Pyrga, Redwater and Gena,” Levi said. “These are the closest territories from which any sizable enemy force can be stationed and resupplied.”

Lancelot glanced at the marks and could vaguely make out what the young lord was hinting at.

“An army would need to use the roads from these territories to be able to access Greenfields,” Lancelot said as he continued to stare pensively at the map. “Otherwise any attempts at subjugation would be significantly harder.”

“Yes,” the Earl said, a small smile finally tugging at his lips. “We have already taken control of Redwater, but Emanmog, Pyrga and Gena remain.”

“...Are you suggesting we attack them, my liege?” Sir Justin asked aghast.

“No,” Levi replied, eliciting a sigh of relief from all gathered before adding. “I only plan on capturing Pyrga. The others are off-limits… for now.”

The entire table fell silent.

“...But why?” Sir Mannon asked the question that was probably burning in all their minds. “Can’t we just negotiate something with Margrave Timel instead of just outright attacking his town?”

“I don’t trust him. I would rather place our men there than leave our flank exposed to betrayal from a power-hungry noble.”

“But you also need to consider that outright attacking a vassal would irreparably damage the von Grifenburg name, My Liege,” Lancelot cautioned. “I would advise against that.”

“And why would I outright attack a loyal vassal of mine if I can just attack a disloyal one instead,” Levi said.

“I don’t understand what you mean, my Liege,” Lancelot replied confused.

“Earl Gilbert of the Hera household testifies that the Timels of Pyrga were accomplices in his attempted attack against the Viceroy of his province.”

“But they didn’t―oh. Oh.”

The table fell silent. Again.

“I am still working on the specifics of the assault,” the young lord continued as if he had not just proposed framing an innocent vassal then attacking them, “but it would be immediately after winter when the town would be at its weakest. Since father had quite generously lent our best ships to the king, we are left with only three brigs, including the two we repossessed from the Heras, and a few sloops. They might be what we will use for staging the assault so I want maintenance work on them to commence as soon as humanly possible. We won’t have time for that after the river thaws if we want to meet my schedule.

“Unfortunately, since Emanmog is under the jurisdiction of Duke Charlis of Lithville province and Gena is a Quiltonian county. Even if we could subdue them with our severely limited resources I still wouldn’t dare give the order. Hence, I propose plans to start the construction of fortifications that can be manned by a hundred and fifty men each along the roads from these two locations. All locations are also to be linked together by paved roads to allow easy commuting between each location. These would give us control over those regions and stem any offensives that might emerge from there. They could also serve as a staging ground for any future counter-offensive.”

“I don’t think that is possible, my Lord,” Sir Mannon replied as the sheer absurdity of the young lord’s plan finally broke him free from his shock-induced stupor. “Roads and fortifications of that size would take months and mountains of gold to complete, both of which we don’t have at present.“

“Oh, we don’t need those,” the young lord said with a small smile, making a gesture to Steward Robert. In response, the butler just silently moved to the side of the room to retrieve something. With a dull thud, he placed an odd-looking rock on the table. Upon closer inspection, Lancelot realised it was actually two rocks stuck together instead of one. Yet, for some strange reason, they looked familiar

Then it clicked and Lancelot simply couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Remember these, viscount?” the young lord said, speaking directly to him as he ran a finger across the rock on the table. “These were the ones you chose that other day. The ones I had the serfs stick together with the lime mortar I had made. The mortar is dry and hard now. You can check it for yourself.”

“...It worked?” Lancelot croaked as he reached out towards the seemingly worthless piece of rock. The rest of the table looked on at the display confused but at the moment Lancelot couldn’t be bothered about them.

“Of course it did,” Levi chuckled, “and if all goes as planned we should have three new forts by late summer next year.”

Disclosable Information

The Map of Souville Province

[Ignore the maller routes between towns - They are inaccurate]