Doroschuk
04-13-2012, 10:20 PM
The army had massed in the shadow of the Ironhold, its ancient stone face coldly reflecting the sun’s august shine. Its walls were massive, thicker than two men, and it was an old site. So old, that there had never been a time in recorded history where the Ironhold had not been fortified by either Loviens or Savillians. The strength of the Ironhold lies, of course, in both its position and its defensive strength. It is not the capital of any duchy or fief, but is rather an outpost, but an extremely valuable one at that.
The fortress lies twenty miles south of the opening of the Kriel Valley, nestled at the base of a lone mountain, the Krier Nhual, called the Gray Mountain, which stands firm at the far left of the great plains of Danar. The Ironhold sits a mile off the river Kriel, which names the duchy and valley north of the fortress.
Here, at the ancient hall, there now massed eighty or so thousand men of the Saville-Lovien Alliance, each peasant armed by his lord, and each lord armed by his own. Countless banners fluttered in the cool breeze, a precursor to the chill winds of winter. In the hold there sat the two kings of Saville and Lovien, Carolus (Charles) IV Julianos and Ricard (Richard) II du Lovien, respectively, with all there assembled retinue, and the two generals Caspar Julianos, third brother to Carolus, and Antoine-Luc, duc du Friánvallou, the two of which would lead personally from the front.
The kings found themselves in an awkward friendship. Earlier in the war, of course, the two nations had clashed in the hills north of Saville, and well into Lovien’s heartland. But with the death of King Jean (John) III du Lovien, and his son Jean-Luc, the succession turned to the Saville-friendly Ricard, who with much haste formed an alliance with his cousin in Saville. The time was nigh to see the first great battle of East and West, and to observe which king would inevitably take the Imperial throne*.
Charles** sat in the lord’s hall within the Ironhold, his compatriot in the throne next to him. He was a tall man, obviously outshining Richard, who was not nearly the physical match of his new ally, or even his late brother. Charles not only stood taller than the man, but he had had his men bring in a throne a single inch higher than Richard’s seat, and he seemed all the grander for it. He stroked his dark beard calmly, his eyes shining with his magnificent ambition.
“We all know why we are here, gentlemen,” he said in his deep bellowing voice. “The Duke of Kriel has long been a thorn in both of our sides,” he gestured to his left, where sat Richard, King of Lovien, “and the Krielli must be punished for both their foolhardy secession, and their continual harassment of our soldiers marching in and out of the Danar plains.”
The other men nodded in agreement, and Richard looked up at his strong-framed cousin, whose tanned complexion and square jaw made him seem all the more intimidating. No wonder the men in the room couldn’t help but agree with him.
“The Eastern realms are expecting an attack,” he continued, “Kriel is of vital importance if the king of Fordrim wishes to continue his foolish plot to invade the west, itself being the widest pass from the east into our realms. Thusly we shall take it back from the jolly King Leodred, and return the duchy to its proper rulers in Lovien, with full military access guaranteed of course.”
He turned to Richard, eyebrows raised with mock inquisitiveness. The lesser man nodded.
“Of course,” he said, appeasing his overbearing kin.
“Good then,” Charles replied, “we begin the march at noon, follow the river into the valley, and seize all holds along the way. The army shall enter the city and crush resistance. Then, of course, we must fortify our position in case of Fordrim reinforcements, and proceed to funnel troops north through the pass.” He finished his statement with a confidently smug grin.
The generals both knew his talk was just formality. The real strategy had been planned out months ago. But there were still many variables: Kriel’s fighting spirit, the amount of assistance from Fordrim, and of course the amount of time it would take the army to take Kriel proper. The winter would soon be upon them, and both generals were aware of their limited time. But they grimly accepted their duty to their lieges. Lieges, they said in public, but of course both men understood they served King Charles now. He simply outranked Richard.
At noon the great army left the Ironhold, with Charles IV at its head, with Richard slightly behind, traveling north into the shade of the great mountains surrounding the valley of Kriel. The sky had grown cloudy in the waning day, and a heavy rain forced the men to halt, and camp was set up five miles north of the Ironhold.
*The War of the Imperial Succession was waged continuously for a period of around one hundred years from the Imperial Diet’s deadlocked election following Flavius Julius’ death and succession by his illegitimate son and recently announced heir, Flavian, to the Great Conquest, ending the war. This episode in particular deals with the very early years of the war, involving Saville, Lovien, Fordrim, and of course the Duchy of Kriel.
**Names translated into English for simplicity
The fortress lies twenty miles south of the opening of the Kriel Valley, nestled at the base of a lone mountain, the Krier Nhual, called the Gray Mountain, which stands firm at the far left of the great plains of Danar. The Ironhold sits a mile off the river Kriel, which names the duchy and valley north of the fortress.
Here, at the ancient hall, there now massed eighty or so thousand men of the Saville-Lovien Alliance, each peasant armed by his lord, and each lord armed by his own. Countless banners fluttered in the cool breeze, a precursor to the chill winds of winter. In the hold there sat the two kings of Saville and Lovien, Carolus (Charles) IV Julianos and Ricard (Richard) II du Lovien, respectively, with all there assembled retinue, and the two generals Caspar Julianos, third brother to Carolus, and Antoine-Luc, duc du Friánvallou, the two of which would lead personally from the front.
The kings found themselves in an awkward friendship. Earlier in the war, of course, the two nations had clashed in the hills north of Saville, and well into Lovien’s heartland. But with the death of King Jean (John) III du Lovien, and his son Jean-Luc, the succession turned to the Saville-friendly Ricard, who with much haste formed an alliance with his cousin in Saville. The time was nigh to see the first great battle of East and West, and to observe which king would inevitably take the Imperial throne*.
Charles** sat in the lord’s hall within the Ironhold, his compatriot in the throne next to him. He was a tall man, obviously outshining Richard, who was not nearly the physical match of his new ally, or even his late brother. Charles not only stood taller than the man, but he had had his men bring in a throne a single inch higher than Richard’s seat, and he seemed all the grander for it. He stroked his dark beard calmly, his eyes shining with his magnificent ambition.
“We all know why we are here, gentlemen,” he said in his deep bellowing voice. “The Duke of Kriel has long been a thorn in both of our sides,” he gestured to his left, where sat Richard, King of Lovien, “and the Krielli must be punished for both their foolhardy secession, and their continual harassment of our soldiers marching in and out of the Danar plains.”
The other men nodded in agreement, and Richard looked up at his strong-framed cousin, whose tanned complexion and square jaw made him seem all the more intimidating. No wonder the men in the room couldn’t help but agree with him.
“The Eastern realms are expecting an attack,” he continued, “Kriel is of vital importance if the king of Fordrim wishes to continue his foolish plot to invade the west, itself being the widest pass from the east into our realms. Thusly we shall take it back from the jolly King Leodred, and return the duchy to its proper rulers in Lovien, with full military access guaranteed of course.”
He turned to Richard, eyebrows raised with mock inquisitiveness. The lesser man nodded.
“Of course,” he said, appeasing his overbearing kin.
“Good then,” Charles replied, “we begin the march at noon, follow the river into the valley, and seize all holds along the way. The army shall enter the city and crush resistance. Then, of course, we must fortify our position in case of Fordrim reinforcements, and proceed to funnel troops north through the pass.” He finished his statement with a confidently smug grin.
The generals both knew his talk was just formality. The real strategy had been planned out months ago. But there were still many variables: Kriel’s fighting spirit, the amount of assistance from Fordrim, and of course the amount of time it would take the army to take Kriel proper. The winter would soon be upon them, and both generals were aware of their limited time. But they grimly accepted their duty to their lieges. Lieges, they said in public, but of course both men understood they served King Charles now. He simply outranked Richard.
At noon the great army left the Ironhold, with Charles IV at its head, with Richard slightly behind, traveling north into the shade of the great mountains surrounding the valley of Kriel. The sky had grown cloudy in the waning day, and a heavy rain forced the men to halt, and camp was set up five miles north of the Ironhold.
*The War of the Imperial Succession was waged continuously for a period of around one hundred years from the Imperial Diet’s deadlocked election following Flavius Julius’ death and succession by his illegitimate son and recently announced heir, Flavian, to the Great Conquest, ending the war. This episode in particular deals with the very early years of the war, involving Saville, Lovien, Fordrim, and of course the Duchy of Kriel.
**Names translated into English for simplicity