A strongly worded message!

​ [05.03.1624]​

Faywyn.

Levi’s army marched down the wide dirt path leading to Faywyn. Their boots still wet from their earlier river crossing kicked up dust as they made their way back home. The sun was setting behind them, casting long shadows across the fields and meadows. The men were tired, but their spirits were high as they approached the silhouette in the distance.

The earl himself stared at the town with a relieved expression; the journey was harsh on the pampered lord despite him being on horseback most of the journey. As he got closer, he could begin to see the smoke of lit chimneys rising in the distance. He got closer still and soon was assailed by an unpleasant stench emanating from the nearby tannery located on the town’s outskirts. The place was deserted for some reason. A cold draft blew through the clearing, rattling the building's unclasped shutters ominously.

The earl swayed on his steed, his gaze panning around. Something was off, he realised with a frown.

“Halt,” Ser Justin called behind him, temporarily ignoring the captive they procured from Towleigh to ride forward and pull on the reins of Levi’s horse. “Something is wrong, My Liege,” he said in a whisper.

Levi nodded in response. “Send someone to check,” the earl instructed.

Levi sat in silence as the knight turned around to carry out his instructions. Ser Mannon wandered to his side. “How often do the tanners abandon their posts?” Levi asked the man as a few militiamen hurried to investigate the deserted building. Two other knights on horseback raced forward down the dirt path towards the town itself. “The hides have all gone bad; that’s about two weeks' worth of income wasted, is it not?”

“Three weeks, My Lord,” Ser Mannon corrected grimly as Justin returned to the earl’s side. “The job may be considered by many an odoriferous trade, but good tanners are rarely negligent. They would never leave valuable leather to rot in a bin.”

The earl remained silent as the militiamen returned from their search. “The place has been stripped of its valuables, M’Lord,” one said as arrived before Levi. “Looks to have been done by the owners ‘emselves; none of the locks were broken and things like undergarments and the like are also missing.”

“Were any of the doors damaged?” Levi asked.

“No, M’Lord.”

“And bloodstains? Were there any?”

“No, M’Lord.”

The earl hummed a musing tune. “You may leave.”

“Yes, M’Lord.”

“What do you make of this?” Levi asked, his attention flickering to the men flanking him.

“...I am unsure, My Lord,” Ser Mannon replied after a moment of silence. Ser Justin similarly shook his head.

The earl pouted his lips, watching as the knights who rode off earlier returned.

“My Lord,” the lead rider said as he pulled his steed to a stop beside the earl’s, “terrible news!”

…​

Faywyn being a town as old as it is had over the years gathered a small handful of villages along its borders. These villages, while mostly independent, were governed by a landed knight or baron who taxed and organised the villagers and in turn paid tribute to the lord whose territory they inhabited.

The villages were typically situated in a valley or near a river or stream, where the land was fertile and the water was plentiful. The centrepiece of the village was usually a manor house, which served as the residence of the village lord and his family. The homes of the villagers themselves were made of wood or stone and thatched with straw and were often clustered together in small neighbourhoods separated by narrow, winding streets that led to a village centre. This centre tended to serve as a market square. Here, merchants and traders from Faywyn would come to purchase produce procured by the villagers and sell their wares in turn. Outside the village’s bounds were the fields and pastures where the villagers would tend to their crops and livestock. The fields were divided into small plots, each managed by a different family, and carefully tended to ensure a good harvest.

Longboat village was once such a settlement. One in which its people thrived and survived, separated from the hustle and bustle of Faywyn itself. As Levi rode into what used to be the village, all that he found left behind was a burnt-out husk.

The earl and his procession of soldiers entered the village cautiously, their eyes scanning the ruins for any sign of life. All about them was a scene of wanton devastation. Buildings were charred and crumbling, and the air remained thick with the acrid smell of smoke and rotten flesh. Smouldering piles of rubble, charred and blackened by the intense heat of the flames littered the place. The remains of wooden beams jutted out of the ashes, and fragments of furniture and personal belongings lay scattered in the debris.

The streets were littered with the remains of carts, wagons, and farming tools. The charred remains of villagers lay strewn on the roads. More than a few hung limply by the neck from a nearby oak bough in the market square. A few corpses were impaled on wooden stakes. And in the centre of it, all was a staked corpse, flayed and disembowelled, eyes gouged out with its skin and entrails crafted into some macabre message by its feet. Levi recognised the corpse despite its extensive mutilations.

“Ser Limmel,” Ser Justin whispered painfully as he dismounted his steed. “He fought alongside us the night we took Mallowston.”

“I remember,” Levi replied. He turned to face Viscount Lancelot who had hurried to join them along the way. “Why haven’t the bodies been buried yet? This happened four nights ago, did it not?” he asked.

“...We cleared the bodies in Mells and South Rock village two days ago, My Lord,” Lancelot whispered, leaning towards the earl. “But your father instructed that we leave Longboat untouched until you return ... He wanted you to see this.”

Levi remained silent as his gaze returned to the rotting bodies. “How many were killed?” he asked.

“About four-hundred people combined in all three villages, My Lord,” the viscount replied, his expression grim. “The survivors that made it to Faywyn gave gruesome descriptions of the horrors those bastards inflicted on the poor folk. Lord Aden had charged a hunting party with the task of finding and exterminating the marauders, but they escaped too far into the woods for us to follow. Wary of an ambush or another attack on the populace while we were gone, His Grace called off the hunt.”

“...What has been done about the remaining villages?”

“Lord Aden instructed the villagers to take what they can carry and relocate to Faywyn until the issue is resolved, My Lord. Given the brutality the marauders have displayed, very few have been reluctant to adhere to the order. A watch has been ordered to watch the town’s outskirts should the bastards return. Many townsfolk also abandoned their homes to move to the town’s centre where they might be safer from harm.”

“...The Forest Wolves, uhn?” Levi mused, reading the message left behind for himself and the duke. “I have seen what My Lord Father desires I see here; you can have these bodies buried now.”

“Yes, My Lord,’ Lancelot said, bowing. “Thank you.”

…​

“You are back,” Aden said as Levi entered the study.

The earl ignored him, turning to face Steward Robert who stood beside the duke. “Have the maids prepare suitable accommodations for Earl Lars,” he said to the man. “At least one guard should always be accompanying the earl. He is not to leave his room until I permit him. He is not to receive visitors until I permit him. He is not to speak with anyone until I permit him. Either you or Sarah will personally deliver his meals; he is to have no contact with anyone else except for yourself, Sarah and his guards, none of whom are to converse with him. Understood?”

The steward looked to the duke who simply nodded for him to respond. “Yes, My Lord,” the old man said, turning back to face Levi.

“Leave us,” Levi said. “I wish to speak with my father.

“Alone.”

The steward looked to the duke again for permission and only left after receiving his assent.

“You wanted to see me, son?”

“Who are the Forest Wolves?” the earl asked blandly.

“...I remember them being a band of bandits that operated in the central and southern forests of the kingdom,” the duke replied after a momentary pause. “They have been a thorn in the side of more than a few southern lords for a few years now given how much they harass merchants that ply those roads. Usually, they simply charge coin for safe passage along the kingdom’s less guarded roads; this is the first time I have heard of them raiding a settlement.”

“...You have no prior conflicts with them, I hope?” the earl asked, squinting at the duke.

“Not any that I am aware of… though, there is no doubt that the message that was left specifically for me.”

The earl sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily.

“What do you plan on doing, son?” the duke asked, his gaze bland.

“This is your mess, Aden,” Levi growled, “fix it.”

The duke shook his head. “Yes, I acknowledge that this might have very well been a result of some of my actions in the past and I accept all the blame that comes with it, but remember, I am not at Faywyn nor do I currently rule it. You do, son. Should you attempt to blunder into a crisis, I will be here to guide you. But I shall not hold your hands as one does a child. Not anymore.”

“...You are turning this into a test?” Levi laughed, the annoyance in his gaze clearing. “Aren’t you just a cruel old man?”

The duke remained silent.

“...How are our relations with the mountain tribes, Father?” the earl asked.

“Amicable,” the duke replied. “Our relations remain civil despite their tendency to act otherwise; they are a rather barbaric sort of people you see.”

The earl chewed on the duke’s words for a few moments. “...Ser Justin will visit the ones that would entertain his presence,” Levi said. “He would present to them a bounty which I would be issuing today; one hundred silver Thales for every dead man. A gold Royal for each one caught alive.”

“...I doubt the tribes would entertain the idea of getting involved in a conflict that does not concern them, son,” Aden said.

Levi shook his head in response. “The Aiga is an impregnable fort to those unfamiliar with the terrain,” he replied. “Whole armies have tried and failed to seize her from her inhabitants. The tribesmen are all warriors. Hunters. Every one of them; there would be no fighting. The Forest Wolves would be hounded to death in the woods as the wild beasts they claim they are. I received nine thousand gold Royals from Lord Timel. Three hundred of that would be set aside. I believe that should be sufficient to finance the bounty.”

The duke remained silent, staring at the earl from behind his seat at the desk, his gaze impressed.