- Pronouns
- He/Him
Greenland?
Warhammer Fantasy: Honor is all, Chivalry is all (Bretonnia CK2)
- Thread starter Voikirium
- Start date
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Mallus is a vague copy of many of the land masses of Earth. Norway/Sweden-Norsca, Bretonnia-France, Holy Roman Empire-Empire, Cathay-China, etc. So, consider the statement from that context.
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- Location
- United States
I'm pretty sure what's being implied is that the Lady's ambitions, and reach, doesn't just encompass a single country.
KnightDisciple
Brotherhood. Unity. Peace.
- Location
- Midwest, USA
Hm. There's a Middle East. An Americas. A British Isles.
The thing is, I'm not sure what would line up with "12 Knights plus Magic Lady" that maps well to a real-world historical location.
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It's not a historical thing. I'll say that right now.
Because Warhammer is not history.
Max Uristwell
Custodian of the Toobs
- Location
- United Kingdom
Charlemagne and his 12 Paladins? They're semi-mythical already, after all. But we've already got a France-equivalent and an HRE-equivalent so that wouldn't really fit...
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Warhammer Australia?
Edit: Eshined
Edit: Eshined
Max Uristwell
Custodian of the Toobs
- Location
- United Kingdom
I hadn't thought of that, good catch.
- Location
- West Michigan
In a way, there are actually two USA counterparts. Ulthuan represents the USA at its best, while Naggaroth represents the USA at its worst.
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Vote is called, winners are:
Martial:
More Knights
Diplomacy:
Stirring Dead- The Fay
Personal:
Minor Campaign- Securing Graves
Managing Stress- Family Man
Prestige:
Marriage Present
Vote for Double Down will be called tomorrow.
Martial:
More Knights
Diplomacy:
Stirring Dead- The Fay
Personal:
Minor Campaign- Securing Graves
Managing Stress- Family Man
Prestige:
Marriage Present
Vote for Double Down will be called tomorrow.
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- Location
- Mountains of Appalachia
[X] DD on Minor Campaign- Securing Graves
Turn 29 Results
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Turn 29
1452
You waken not to the crow of cock nor the cry of man, but to horses. Getting up, Gauvain already awake himself with suit laced for you, you look out the window to see a precession. Kinfolk.
You wish to mourn, and are instead assaulted with vultures.
The sound of hooves pounding like a drum beat rings through the mountains, a constant rainfall as your distant kin arrive bearing the hart of Gisoreux. A thousand knights, armored in maille and nasal helm, the finest warriors of that land. At the forefront, a great many of your aunts that still live. Clad in black, they put on the show of mourners, and cry, and perhaps truth— but at nights, you swear you can hear the same voice that sang you soft lullabies even now wails funeral dirges to a passed father.
It seems that the forest lords bring their problems to your court. The passage of Gisoreux might, normally, be a simple enough matter— but then, the law has little comprehension, at times, of men. Seven children, all of them fine warriors. You are busy enough in Montfort— they need not worry about such things.
No— they only need to worry about each other. Normally, the mantle of lordship would simply pass to the eldest son, or if he is dead his son. Meaning that, by all tradition, Victor Grand should now be named Duke.
How unfortunate, then, that he married not just an Imperial, and not just a bastard, but the Imperial Bastard of the General Boer who killed Sir Pierre?
The vipers stir, and without regard for consequence of Civil War have attempted to push your aunt, the Prophetess Carine, for power. Blessed by the Lady by both the touch of magic and by the ability to cleanse ailments by touch alone, she is popular— but rulership, leadership, is not a popularity contest.
In any case, you see a far more immediate— and welcome— banner. One you need to look your absolute best for.
A silken shirt, covered by a vivid red doublet, covers your chest. A circlet of well-smithed iron, jewels set in the center, covers your brow. Dark green pants, white boots, and black cloak with the symbol of montfort worked into it and a fine golden chain connecting it finish the ensemble. Gripping your sword, Gauvain at your side, you make stately pace to the center chambers, where already guests make themselves at home.
But even they split as a unicorn makes its way toward the castle.
Who, after all, would dare block the way of the Enchantress?
You stand at the center of room, and kneel as the second most beautiful woman in the world enters, head bowed to her. Blonde hair shining as though it was spun from sunlight and hope, dress billowing, vivid reds and purples, veil crafted of the finest silk. At her belt her sword rests, below the a chalice— and in her hand, her golden scepter.
"Fairest Enchantress, Mistress of these Realms, Defender of the Fourteen Dukedoms, Purest of Pure. It has been some time."
"Indeed it has, Sir Knight." She smiles, gentle, and you would slaughter a thousand orcs just to see that smile once more. "Rise."
And you do. Rising to your full height, your own sword— though it does not crackle with the power of her own— shines bright. Your own soft hair is gentle and soft as well. You are taller than her, by at least a head— though fair is as fair does, if Annick was here she'd make you both look slight. The blood of orcs stains your hands, the gore of elves sullies your sword.
And yet you feel like a schoolboy facing a strict teacher as she looks at you.
"Might I ask why you, Exalted Mother, have come?"
"We have heard rumours most foul. Of evil things, and dead things, and things better dead that live." She turns and, loudly, speaks to your family. "And of a court that imposes itself on your hospitality."
"Rumours?"
"Of unliving bandits."
"Ah, yes. The bandits." You gesture, and the newest addition to the many banners that already festoon your hall flutter out, hanging almost to the floor. The symbols of Nehekara are scorched but recognizable to any who might know them— yourself for your training in Diplomacy; and the Enchantress for she knows all.
"I come too for a miracle child, who at seven wielded magic more terrible than I wielded at twenty-eight!"
The court is silent. For the Enchantress to admit such a thing— why, if this were the Empire, you might be scared.
Instead, a small voice, but one you know well, breaks the silence. "I am here!"
Your daughter, blond and gentle haired and in a traveling dress, steps from the crowd. She has taken to carrying the rod with her, like a security blanket— after the eighth time a Damsel was flung away after trying to take it, they have rather given up.
In any case, she taps a rhythm with it, a calm beat as Yvain makes her way.
Her eyes are bloodshot, near. She might be twitchy, if she did not have the calm repose of her grandmother. Dreams of terror— of hammer blows sounding through the dark, of ruin and war, and death and battle and darkness, of plague and epidemic— have haunted your daughter.
And yet, somehow, an eight year-old meets the gaze of the Fay.
And the fay only smiles.
Martial: Two paths lie before you. One of obedience...and one of glory.
Preparations for Battle: You will be leading a great charge of horses, beastflesh, and men into dense caverns filled with many foes that want you all dead. It seems a good idea to, perhaps, ready yourself— drill, hold tourneys, find great knights, and ensure that you are as ready as you will ever be to throw out the Night Goblins, and their king.
- In great lines of men, they march.
In great numbers, they march.
In massive blocks, they march.
The men of Montfort are ready for war. They have drilled, and practiced, and moved. Your knights you have to set to tasks to sharpen them— ancient Monasteries reclaimed, clearings emptied of Greenskins, peaks and valleys set to fire. The hills are alive with the sound of metal, as hooves rock the earth.
All of this, in preparation to cleanse the underground of the filth that sullies it.
Reward: Much reduced Malus in underground fighting, +5 to Battle Turns and Campaigns, Small Holdings that can be Distributed
More Knights: You are one of more powerful Dukes of Bretonnia, and yet your Household is...petite, perhaps, is the fairest way of putting it. There are reasons for this— your father was a solitary man, with few friends aside from family, and ever focused on individual heroism. For him, this made perfect sense. For you, though, this is not good, really so— after all, you might struggle to kill a dragon with your bare hands. While they are expensive, raising up more Household Knights would both increase your status and help you to fight the Greenskins. It should not be hard to find a few who would be willing to join.
And by a few you mean "enough to more than triple them."
- When you are not busy drilling your men, nor leading them in skirmish, nor speaking with the Lady, you hold tournies, dozens of them. An invitation is sent to all the corners of your realms, and soon enough battle, watched by the whole city and your countryside, begins. Jousts, duels, melees, and more. The Fay Enchantress herself offers favor to one young man.
First the duels. Blunted steel, the list is dominated by one man— he cuts through his competition like butter, putting them to the ground and breaking them on the fields. Within thirty seconds, all of his competition lies on the grass.
He last a minute against your wife, which is something not many can claim.
Next the Jousts. Steel crashes steel as men battle atop horseback. It would be gauche to attend yourself— but you do award the man who manages to make it to the top of the list with a joust against yourself. He takes his unseating with gentlemanly acceptance.
Finally, the melee. You watch as the youths of the land beat each-other into paste, and a good time is had by all— and in the end, a great many young men ascend to join your household, third and fourth sons seeking prestige under your banner.
There is also an archery competition attended by many of the young ladies of the land. You did not watch it, but apparently there was something of a commotion between a knight and a man who beat his daughter in the competition. Fortunately, your son managed to disarm the matter, but.
You also saw Abraham! He attended the Squire's combat. He didn't win— too young— but he did manage to make it to fifth, so you're proud of him. He was traveling not just with his lord, but a Cleric, too.
Reward: Gain 50 Household Knights
Aiding Bastonne: Half of Bastonne is dead. Thousands of acres burned, half the whole host of honor was slaughtered in a day. Duke Bohemond I died to Morglum, as did most of his sons, and his wife followed of a heart-attack born of grief. Entire families were snuffed out. Villages need rebuilding, castles need repairs, man-labor is desperately required. Beggars line the streets, the hungry outweigh the full.
And yet the pride of Bastonne would not allow them to accept aid.
Uther has spent the past years only just trying to convince certain, noble individuals to accept it— and finally, it seems, it bears fruit. Your countrymen suffer, and you will bring them aid.
It will be expensive, but well worth the cost.
- The men of Bastonne are many things.
Prideful. You have seen Bohemond manage to argue for an hour with a Caledorian on the matter of whose line was mightier— an impressive feat.
Arrogant. Not a one of them can conceive of failure, except perhaps against another Knight.
Just. You once saw Bohemond, much the same day, spend three hours helping a little boy recover his wooden sword.
Honorable. Never do they put it aside, or compromise it.
There are no grand gestures, no awesome oaths, no grandiose promises— but it is unlikely that the men of Bastonne should ever not come to the aid of Montfort, were it required.
Further, Bohemond, once he is returned to his court, sends you a shield carved out of wyvern bone, and a sword as well.
Reward: Massive Bonus to Bastonne Opinion, healed the lands of Gilles, aided your student
The Stirring Dead— The Fay: The Fay Enchantress will be staying Montfort for a few months, apparently seeking something or other— or perhaps simply to vacation by killing Greenskins. Fortuitous, that; for it strikes you that having the aid of the most blessed near, and with you might be helpful in the coming battles.
- The Fay Enchantress hears your words, and so the Clerics and Damsels and Prophetesses alike are set to the task of guarding the roads and graves and lands of Bretonnia from the undead menace. Nothing much in particular comes of it, but then that is likely simply because what might otherwise have happened is prevented entirely.
Further, the Enchantress sets to work studying the journal, and manages to annotate the magic. She has several concerns, the most dreadesome being that it seems the undead are stirring the greenskins and the Skaven alike to more malice.
Reward: Informed the Enchantress
Stewardship: With the damage inflicted by Grom recovered, Yvain has decided that you can afford to begin looking to improve instead of to just rebuild. For that, he has a few ideas.
A Roost To Rest: You… would feel wrong, riding anything but a fine Bretonnian war-horse. That said, your father adored the beasts and considered them much akin to himself. Further, you have an extra egg, whether or not you yourself ride. Yvain believes it might be a good idea— and you are inclined— to establish a breeding ground for them in Montfort. Annick could tame the newest born creature, even. That said, you will need help, to bless the grounds so the chicks learn to both fly and thrive; a Damsel, or Prophetess, would be necessary, and Rose is somewhat inconvenienced at the moment. You could try without the egg you have now, but procuring one could be...difficult, owing to all the nobles who sought one out seeking to emulate your father.
- Work continues.
Elf Quarter: The High Elves are, to put none too fine a point on it, picky. Far less than the Imperials, blinded by the Dwarf's grumblings, believe; but still, it does exist. As such, only a relative few, less than five, come to Montfort bearing trade. If there was a proper space, though, built and supplies to their standards, more would come— and as more came, more would trade, and in the doing you would make more money for your people.
- Several merchants from Ellyrion arrive, beginning to sell their wares and purchasing much of the raw metals that come from your mines— they pay particular attention to Silverine. More good news as well: It seems Merovee has made a friend! The heir of Imrik, ruler of Caledor, a youth himself, apparently got along with your son; and so several of the merchants of that land have arrived, too. The more restrained members of their people— they only make you roll your eyes once— they do bring strange and exotic goods, and weapons, and other such useful supplies.
Reward: +500 Gold from Elf Trade
Piety: Rose has returned from her trip rescuing the new Baron of Westerlands. She has a new scar, as well as a new staff, much bigger than her last. It seems she has become, then, that which evil fears most: a Prophetess of the Lady. Young, for that, but not entirely without Precedent.
A Daughter's Duty: For many years now, the Daughters of Rhya have been working in your Dukedom, aiding the women of your land, your wife included, in giving birth. That said, they have only the temple in the city itself right now, so for all their aid they are only just helping a segment of the populace. They would like to expand, to the land of all your Barons. Which...could be somewhat difficult, knowing your cousin's reputation.
Needed:40 Rolled: 59+5=64
- More matronly women arrive in Montfort, in the new cities, and in the baronies, where once they had not been. Not full fledged branches, yet, but it is a start.
Ready for War: The Tomb Kings stir. The servants of Nagash seek Bretonnians, for what and why you neither know nor care. In such times, it would be wise to ask the damsels for wisdom in facing the Undead Kings— before they can ravage the lands.
Needed: 50 Rolled:38+5=43 Reroll: 34+5=39
- Unfortunately, they fail in their efforts.
Learning: Your father's efforts to back scholarship in Bretonnia are impressive, but handicapped by his own, simpler nature.
Going Inside: Outhouses are miserable. Cold, wooden, they are a pain, and a misery; unclean, too, dirty. Nimue, however, has discovered in Mousillon the schematics to a system that will remove waste cleanly and efficiently, apparently developed by the elves then stolen by one of the earlier dukes. She will need time to perfect it, though.
- Good news: water now flows through Castle Montfort! Teeming pipes and fine brass pump water through, and remove waste to the old sewages pits and so on. You no longer need outhouses nor chamber pots!
Bad news: They aren't all that practical to expand. The dwarfs made the roads too hard to dig through to put the pipe in; further, the cold might well pop them, or other such maladies. Further, certain...fanged fiends might find it easy to scurry about in the shadows.
However! While you cannot expand this to everyone, Miss Nimue has learned a thing or two, and does feel ready to try something new: mechanical irrigation.
Reward: Indoor plumbing in Castle Montfort, mechanical irrigation
Steel-Plow: Much of the soil of Montfort is too hard, too rocky to be plowed by the usual iron farming tools. However, an inventor of Quenells, one Jean Cerfe, has come to your lands with the idea to build a new plow, harder and better and made not of iron but real steel. Difficult, yes, but potentially worthwhile.
- The plow is ready! Gleaming, and shining under bright sun, you saw it punch through the tough soil of the land like it was nothing but cloth. Given to the farmers of Nouvelle Vie, it has already expanded their production perhaps threefold— distributing it further, to more peasants, would increase that even more.
Reward: +250 Gold, Can Distribute to Peasants
Intrigue: You are a better sneak than your father, and your wife is better than you both. Wise and clever, she has been the doom of a thousand souls.
Qu'est Qui?: Rose is currently under watch after her episode in front of the Court. Her eyes were glowing rainbows, her cloak was billowing, and she spoke with a voice like fire. Clearly, this Húnarta is utterly unimportant.
To be more serious for a moment, you should probably check on that.
Needed:50 Rolled:58+20=78
- Malekith has a daughter.
Húnarta is that daughter. Beyond some revolting mental images you would rather not deal with, this is also of concern for the simple fact that with an heir, the Dark Elves are much more secure in their evil, the "kingdom" — if you want to be very, very generous— more strong.
Further, there is the fear of what a child with all of Aenarion's power raised as a Druchii might curse the world with, but that is a longer question to ask.
Seeing no fit reason not to, you have carriers disperse this information as a far and wide as you can. Many of them die— but in the end, the world is warned.
Reward: Intelligence
The Eves: Terrible, and wealthy, and dark, the Eves are dedicated to Chaos, in all its myriad forms— though, their "family" here is most dedicated to loathsome Nurgle. To remove them from your city will require...precision. Effort. Finesse. And perhaps most importantly, they cannot know that you know what they are. Removing them will require...preparations.
- Plans are put in place. Men keep close watch. You know what you are going to do, and how it can be done.
The children will escape, of that there is little doubt. But that will not be the end of that!
Consider, for a moment, what you would do if your parents and grandparents and butler and abominable limb was destroyed? Flee, of course, but more than that— seek out family friends, especially.
The children will smoke out other followers of Nurgle from Montfort to the Northlands, like truffle hounds on track. Letters can be written, plans made, and in the end a great many foul men will face justice for the first time.
Reward: Plans for dealing with the Eves, will be capable of following the trail of escaped Mercredi Eves and brother to find many Chaos Worshipers, as will a great many other people who can use said information
Personal: Your wife has returned after two years away. Suffice to say, you do not have as much free time as you used to, though you are far less stressed than you were at this time last year. So it balances out.
Needed:50 Rolled: 41+20=61
Minor Campaign— Securing Graves: Any effort by the Arch-Nercomancer's servants will require the living dead. Bodies. Many of them, at that. The tombs of nobles and peasants alike are at risk of being attacked. Ensure their safety— and personally, at that.
You might even get lucky.
- You and your sixty knights spend much time and effort deterring grave-robbers, orcs, and others from attacking the land where your people rest eternal. Further, many graves are reclaimed from the Greenskin. Small skirmishes, and little more, but well worth it. Your son gets his first sight of combat, as well, watching from your camp as you ride down skeletons. Annick comes, as well.
Reward: Secured Graves in Montfort
Managing Stress- Family Man: You have been feeling a bit...burnt-out, lately.
Tired.
Seeing your family is well and wholesome though— and it will not be long before Gauvain and Bertrand are also sent to squire, though hopefully closer to home with one of your barons, perhaps— so spending more time with them should help alleviate that, at least.
Needed:25 Rolled:77+13=90
- You won't say all the stress fades away— not with one still in diapers— but it's the good stress. The kind of being at home and caring for your family, of helping to raise your sons to be the good men you know they can be.
As many nights as you can, you read to them, play with them, guide them. You answer their questions— including a surprisingly well managed, you think, answer when Bertrand asked where babies come from— as well as just being around, with them— and in your proudest moment, you have already taught Louis to ride. A little, friendly pony, mollified by the prescence of Bertrand, but it feels good.
With Bertrand, you walk the wilds.
With Gauvain, you run over maps and figures.
With Louis, you...well mostly you just tell him how proud you are of him.
And, of course, you spend more time with Annick. As might be expected of a man spending more time with his wife, nine months later a child is born.
But from the beginning you know she is...different. Sickly and crying, pale and soft, she and her mother alike are left bludgeoned by the birth and it seems your daughter, Phillipine, will not make it through the night.
However, a woman neither you, nor the Daughters of Rhya, nor the Mademoiselles of the Lady who attended to the birth, gives her a drink of some noxious black brew. Her eyes go milky white, and she seems, perhaps, blind; but she lives. Small and precious, you can hold her in a single one of your hands; and as you do, you swear you will protect her.
In thanks, you have an extra tithe offered to Rhya, Shallya and the Lady alike from among the nobility.
Reward: Spent time with family, stress removed, Snippet maybe
Prestige Actions: Savior of the Old World, foe to the Dark Elves, Destroyer of the Beastmen, reclaimer of the Palais des Fleurs. Your deeds are many, and to be much respected; you are respected throughout Bretonnia, even despite your youth.
Les Hommes D'Honor: Abuse is frequent, its marks hidden, its victims silenced by brute force. Well no longer. You will send emissaries, a rotating group of three men— a Knight, a Freeman, and a Peasant, to examine these lands— and if they be found wanting, their lords cruel, their wills vile— then these men will tell you, that you might bring them to task.
- Clerks have begun sending letters and so on.
Marriage Present: There will be a marriage between Sir Gasard of Bretonnia and the Emperor's Sister Lady Tamiko, as well as between a great many of the nobles that accompany both. Fortunately, you already know exactly what gift you're getting for the Royal Wedding— swords and armor for the warriors, and fine dresses for the ladies.
The craftsmen and women of the Dukedom were more than willing to do this for you in return for lucrative meetings between they and much of your kin— you'd be surprised how much Bretonnian steel is going to be filling the armies of Stirland.
However, you could do something...bigger.
Much bigger.
What, exactly, you are not sure, but you can come up with something.
- No expense is spared, no excuse accepted. A fiery, well-sharped sword is made, Almayse, and six more besides, along with armor and shields. But more than that, as well.
A band of priests and architects make their way to both the Embassy in Nippon and Gassard's land in Mousillon. And so, fine shrines are erected-- Chapels to the Lady, each one-hundred feet tall, carved of local marble with fine images of many members of both families, ending in very detailed and finely made statues of the bride and groom-- and at the center, nearly scraping the ceiling, the Lady, clad in fine robes that are carved to perfection, and seem to flow like real cloth. In Bretonnia proper, accoutrements are made of gold and silver, a fine scepter gripped in her hand as well as a crown. In Nippon, it is instead fine circlets of jade and a scepter of aluminum-- you just about fainted, but the expense was well worth it.
Benches made of Mahoghany hold aloft worshipers, while stain glass images of Landuin let in the light. At the center, under the Lady's gaze, there is an altar of pure gold, where a diamond chalice-- hardly accurate, likely, but impressive-- is filled with the dark red wine. Prayer books to the Lady are at the center.
To seal it off, Heraldries of the Earth strengthen the foundation, making them fine fastnesses.
It is an impressive show of wealth, to be sure. More, it is a call to the Lady and symbol of her glory.
And so even as two families come together, there is yet more to celebrate.
Reward: +5000 Prestige
--
Alright so there's a vote coming up tomorrow.
Just, you know. Be aware of that.
1452
You waken not to the crow of cock nor the cry of man, but to horses. Getting up, Gauvain already awake himself with suit laced for you, you look out the window to see a precession. Kinfolk.
You wish to mourn, and are instead assaulted with vultures.
The sound of hooves pounding like a drum beat rings through the mountains, a constant rainfall as your distant kin arrive bearing the hart of Gisoreux. A thousand knights, armored in maille and nasal helm, the finest warriors of that land. At the forefront, a great many of your aunts that still live. Clad in black, they put on the show of mourners, and cry, and perhaps truth— but at nights, you swear you can hear the same voice that sang you soft lullabies even now wails funeral dirges to a passed father.
It seems that the forest lords bring their problems to your court. The passage of Gisoreux might, normally, be a simple enough matter— but then, the law has little comprehension, at times, of men. Seven children, all of them fine warriors. You are busy enough in Montfort— they need not worry about such things.
No— they only need to worry about each other. Normally, the mantle of lordship would simply pass to the eldest son, or if he is dead his son. Meaning that, by all tradition, Victor Grand should now be named Duke.
How unfortunate, then, that he married not just an Imperial, and not just a bastard, but the Imperial Bastard of the General Boer who killed Sir Pierre?
The vipers stir, and without regard for consequence of Civil War have attempted to push your aunt, the Prophetess Carine, for power. Blessed by the Lady by both the touch of magic and by the ability to cleanse ailments by touch alone, she is popular— but rulership, leadership, is not a popularity contest.
In any case, you see a far more immediate— and welcome— banner. One you need to look your absolute best for.
A silken shirt, covered by a vivid red doublet, covers your chest. A circlet of well-smithed iron, jewels set in the center, covers your brow. Dark green pants, white boots, and black cloak with the symbol of montfort worked into it and a fine golden chain connecting it finish the ensemble. Gripping your sword, Gauvain at your side, you make stately pace to the center chambers, where already guests make themselves at home.
But even they split as a unicorn makes its way toward the castle.
Who, after all, would dare block the way of the Enchantress?
You stand at the center of room, and kneel as the second most beautiful woman in the world enters, head bowed to her. Blonde hair shining as though it was spun from sunlight and hope, dress billowing, vivid reds and purples, veil crafted of the finest silk. At her belt her sword rests, below the a chalice— and in her hand, her golden scepter.
"Fairest Enchantress, Mistress of these Realms, Defender of the Fourteen Dukedoms, Purest of Pure. It has been some time."
"Indeed it has, Sir Knight." She smiles, gentle, and you would slaughter a thousand orcs just to see that smile once more. "Rise."
And you do. Rising to your full height, your own sword— though it does not crackle with the power of her own— shines bright. Your own soft hair is gentle and soft as well. You are taller than her, by at least a head— though fair is as fair does, if Annick was here she'd make you both look slight. The blood of orcs stains your hands, the gore of elves sullies your sword.
And yet you feel like a schoolboy facing a strict teacher as she looks at you.
"Might I ask why you, Exalted Mother, have come?"
"We have heard rumours most foul. Of evil things, and dead things, and things better dead that live." She turns and, loudly, speaks to your family. "And of a court that imposes itself on your hospitality."
"Rumours?"
"Of unliving bandits."
"Ah, yes. The bandits." You gesture, and the newest addition to the many banners that already festoon your hall flutter out, hanging almost to the floor. The symbols of Nehekara are scorched but recognizable to any who might know them— yourself for your training in Diplomacy; and the Enchantress for she knows all.
"I come too for a miracle child, who at seven wielded magic more terrible than I wielded at twenty-eight!"
The court is silent. For the Enchantress to admit such a thing— why, if this were the Empire, you might be scared.
Instead, a small voice, but one you know well, breaks the silence. "I am here!"
Your daughter, blond and gentle haired and in a traveling dress, steps from the crowd. She has taken to carrying the rod with her, like a security blanket— after the eighth time a Damsel was flung away after trying to take it, they have rather given up.
In any case, she taps a rhythm with it, a calm beat as Yvain makes her way.
Her eyes are bloodshot, near. She might be twitchy, if she did not have the calm repose of her grandmother. Dreams of terror— of hammer blows sounding through the dark, of ruin and war, and death and battle and darkness, of plague and epidemic— have haunted your daughter.
And yet, somehow, an eight year-old meets the gaze of the Fay.
And the fay only smiles.
Martial: Two paths lie before you. One of obedience...and one of glory.
Preparations for Battle: You will be leading a great charge of horses, beastflesh, and men into dense caverns filled with many foes that want you all dead. It seems a good idea to, perhaps, ready yourself— drill, hold tourneys, find great knights, and ensure that you are as ready as you will ever be to throw out the Night Goblins, and their king.
- In great lines of men, they march.
In great numbers, they march.
In massive blocks, they march.
The men of Montfort are ready for war. They have drilled, and practiced, and moved. Your knights you have to set to tasks to sharpen them— ancient Monasteries reclaimed, clearings emptied of Greenskins, peaks and valleys set to fire. The hills are alive with the sound of metal, as hooves rock the earth.
All of this, in preparation to cleanse the underground of the filth that sullies it.
Reward: Much reduced Malus in underground fighting, +5 to Battle Turns and Campaigns, Small Holdings that can be Distributed
More Knights: You are one of more powerful Dukes of Bretonnia, and yet your Household is...petite, perhaps, is the fairest way of putting it. There are reasons for this— your father was a solitary man, with few friends aside from family, and ever focused on individual heroism. For him, this made perfect sense. For you, though, this is not good, really so— after all, you might struggle to kill a dragon with your bare hands. While they are expensive, raising up more Household Knights would both increase your status and help you to fight the Greenskins. It should not be hard to find a few who would be willing to join.
And by a few you mean "enough to more than triple them."
- When you are not busy drilling your men, nor leading them in skirmish, nor speaking with the Lady, you hold tournies, dozens of them. An invitation is sent to all the corners of your realms, and soon enough battle, watched by the whole city and your countryside, begins. Jousts, duels, melees, and more. The Fay Enchantress herself offers favor to one young man.
First the duels. Blunted steel, the list is dominated by one man— he cuts through his competition like butter, putting them to the ground and breaking them on the fields. Within thirty seconds, all of his competition lies on the grass.
He last a minute against your wife, which is something not many can claim.
Next the Jousts. Steel crashes steel as men battle atop horseback. It would be gauche to attend yourself— but you do award the man who manages to make it to the top of the list with a joust against yourself. He takes his unseating with gentlemanly acceptance.
Finally, the melee. You watch as the youths of the land beat each-other into paste, and a good time is had by all— and in the end, a great many young men ascend to join your household, third and fourth sons seeking prestige under your banner.
There is also an archery competition attended by many of the young ladies of the land. You did not watch it, but apparently there was something of a commotion between a knight and a man who beat his daughter in the competition. Fortunately, your son managed to disarm the matter, but.
You also saw Abraham! He attended the Squire's combat. He didn't win— too young— but he did manage to make it to fifth, so you're proud of him. He was traveling not just with his lord, but a Cleric, too.
Reward: Gain 50 Household Knights
Aiding Bastonne: Half of Bastonne is dead. Thousands of acres burned, half the whole host of honor was slaughtered in a day. Duke Bohemond I died to Morglum, as did most of his sons, and his wife followed of a heart-attack born of grief. Entire families were snuffed out. Villages need rebuilding, castles need repairs, man-labor is desperately required. Beggars line the streets, the hungry outweigh the full.
And yet the pride of Bastonne would not allow them to accept aid.
Uther has spent the past years only just trying to convince certain, noble individuals to accept it— and finally, it seems, it bears fruit. Your countrymen suffer, and you will bring them aid.
It will be expensive, but well worth the cost.
- The men of Bastonne are many things.
Prideful. You have seen Bohemond manage to argue for an hour with a Caledorian on the matter of whose line was mightier— an impressive feat.
Arrogant. Not a one of them can conceive of failure, except perhaps against another Knight.
Just. You once saw Bohemond, much the same day, spend three hours helping a little boy recover his wooden sword.
Honorable. Never do they put it aside, or compromise it.
There are no grand gestures, no awesome oaths, no grandiose promises— but it is unlikely that the men of Bastonne should ever not come to the aid of Montfort, were it required.
Further, Bohemond, once he is returned to his court, sends you a shield carved out of wyvern bone, and a sword as well.
Reward: Massive Bonus to Bastonne Opinion, healed the lands of Gilles, aided your student
The Stirring Dead— The Fay: The Fay Enchantress will be staying Montfort for a few months, apparently seeking something or other— or perhaps simply to vacation by killing Greenskins. Fortuitous, that; for it strikes you that having the aid of the most blessed near, and with you might be helpful in the coming battles.
- The Fay Enchantress hears your words, and so the Clerics and Damsels and Prophetesses alike are set to the task of guarding the roads and graves and lands of Bretonnia from the undead menace. Nothing much in particular comes of it, but then that is likely simply because what might otherwise have happened is prevented entirely.
Further, the Enchantress sets to work studying the journal, and manages to annotate the magic. She has several concerns, the most dreadesome being that it seems the undead are stirring the greenskins and the Skaven alike to more malice.
Reward: Informed the Enchantress
Stewardship: With the damage inflicted by Grom recovered, Yvain has decided that you can afford to begin looking to improve instead of to just rebuild. For that, he has a few ideas.
A Roost To Rest: You… would feel wrong, riding anything but a fine Bretonnian war-horse. That said, your father adored the beasts and considered them much akin to himself. Further, you have an extra egg, whether or not you yourself ride. Yvain believes it might be a good idea— and you are inclined— to establish a breeding ground for them in Montfort. Annick could tame the newest born creature, even. That said, you will need help, to bless the grounds so the chicks learn to both fly and thrive; a Damsel, or Prophetess, would be necessary, and Rose is somewhat inconvenienced at the moment. You could try without the egg you have now, but procuring one could be...difficult, owing to all the nobles who sought one out seeking to emulate your father.
- Work continues.
Elf Quarter: The High Elves are, to put none too fine a point on it, picky. Far less than the Imperials, blinded by the Dwarf's grumblings, believe; but still, it does exist. As such, only a relative few, less than five, come to Montfort bearing trade. If there was a proper space, though, built and supplies to their standards, more would come— and as more came, more would trade, and in the doing you would make more money for your people.
- Several merchants from Ellyrion arrive, beginning to sell their wares and purchasing much of the raw metals that come from your mines— they pay particular attention to Silverine. More good news as well: It seems Merovee has made a friend! The heir of Imrik, ruler of Caledor, a youth himself, apparently got along with your son; and so several of the merchants of that land have arrived, too. The more restrained members of their people— they only make you roll your eyes once— they do bring strange and exotic goods, and weapons, and other such useful supplies.
Reward: +500 Gold from Elf Trade
Piety: Rose has returned from her trip rescuing the new Baron of Westerlands. She has a new scar, as well as a new staff, much bigger than her last. It seems she has become, then, that which evil fears most: a Prophetess of the Lady. Young, for that, but not entirely without Precedent.
A Daughter's Duty: For many years now, the Daughters of Rhya have been working in your Dukedom, aiding the women of your land, your wife included, in giving birth. That said, they have only the temple in the city itself right now, so for all their aid they are only just helping a segment of the populace. They would like to expand, to the land of all your Barons. Which...could be somewhat difficult, knowing your cousin's reputation.
Needed:40 Rolled: 59+5=64
- More matronly women arrive in Montfort, in the new cities, and in the baronies, where once they had not been. Not full fledged branches, yet, but it is a start.
Ready for War: The Tomb Kings stir. The servants of Nagash seek Bretonnians, for what and why you neither know nor care. In such times, it would be wise to ask the damsels for wisdom in facing the Undead Kings— before they can ravage the lands.
Needed: 50 Rolled:38+5=43 Reroll: 34+5=39
- Unfortunately, they fail in their efforts.
Learning: Your father's efforts to back scholarship in Bretonnia are impressive, but handicapped by his own, simpler nature.
Going Inside: Outhouses are miserable. Cold, wooden, they are a pain, and a misery; unclean, too, dirty. Nimue, however, has discovered in Mousillon the schematics to a system that will remove waste cleanly and efficiently, apparently developed by the elves then stolen by one of the earlier dukes. She will need time to perfect it, though.
- Good news: water now flows through Castle Montfort! Teeming pipes and fine brass pump water through, and remove waste to the old sewages pits and so on. You no longer need outhouses nor chamber pots!
Bad news: They aren't all that practical to expand. The dwarfs made the roads too hard to dig through to put the pipe in; further, the cold might well pop them, or other such maladies. Further, certain...fanged fiends might find it easy to scurry about in the shadows.
However! While you cannot expand this to everyone, Miss Nimue has learned a thing or two, and does feel ready to try something new: mechanical irrigation.
Reward: Indoor plumbing in Castle Montfort, mechanical irrigation
Steel-Plow: Much of the soil of Montfort is too hard, too rocky to be plowed by the usual iron farming tools. However, an inventor of Quenells, one Jean Cerfe, has come to your lands with the idea to build a new plow, harder and better and made not of iron but real steel. Difficult, yes, but potentially worthwhile.
- The plow is ready! Gleaming, and shining under bright sun, you saw it punch through the tough soil of the land like it was nothing but cloth. Given to the farmers of Nouvelle Vie, it has already expanded their production perhaps threefold— distributing it further, to more peasants, would increase that even more.
Reward: +250 Gold, Can Distribute to Peasants
Intrigue: You are a better sneak than your father, and your wife is better than you both. Wise and clever, she has been the doom of a thousand souls.
Qu'est Qui?: Rose is currently under watch after her episode in front of the Court. Her eyes were glowing rainbows, her cloak was billowing, and she spoke with a voice like fire. Clearly, this Húnarta is utterly unimportant.
To be more serious for a moment, you should probably check on that.
Needed:50 Rolled:58+20=78
- Malekith has a daughter.
Húnarta is that daughter. Beyond some revolting mental images you would rather not deal with, this is also of concern for the simple fact that with an heir, the Dark Elves are much more secure in their evil, the "kingdom" — if you want to be very, very generous— more strong.
Further, there is the fear of what a child with all of Aenarion's power raised as a Druchii might curse the world with, but that is a longer question to ask.
Seeing no fit reason not to, you have carriers disperse this information as a far and wide as you can. Many of them die— but in the end, the world is warned.
Reward: Intelligence
The Eves: Terrible, and wealthy, and dark, the Eves are dedicated to Chaos, in all its myriad forms— though, their "family" here is most dedicated to loathsome Nurgle. To remove them from your city will require...precision. Effort. Finesse. And perhaps most importantly, they cannot know that you know what they are. Removing them will require...preparations.
- Plans are put in place. Men keep close watch. You know what you are going to do, and how it can be done.
The children will escape, of that there is little doubt. But that will not be the end of that!
Consider, for a moment, what you would do if your parents and grandparents and butler and abominable limb was destroyed? Flee, of course, but more than that— seek out family friends, especially.
The children will smoke out other followers of Nurgle from Montfort to the Northlands, like truffle hounds on track. Letters can be written, plans made, and in the end a great many foul men will face justice for the first time.
Reward: Plans for dealing with the Eves, will be capable of following the trail of escaped Mercredi Eves and brother to find many Chaos Worshipers, as will a great many other people who can use said information
Personal: Your wife has returned after two years away. Suffice to say, you do not have as much free time as you used to, though you are far less stressed than you were at this time last year. So it balances out.
Needed:50 Rolled: 41+20=61
Minor Campaign— Securing Graves: Any effort by the Arch-Nercomancer's servants will require the living dead. Bodies. Many of them, at that. The tombs of nobles and peasants alike are at risk of being attacked. Ensure their safety— and personally, at that.
You might even get lucky.
- You and your sixty knights spend much time and effort deterring grave-robbers, orcs, and others from attacking the land where your people rest eternal. Further, many graves are reclaimed from the Greenskin. Small skirmishes, and little more, but well worth it. Your son gets his first sight of combat, as well, watching from your camp as you ride down skeletons. Annick comes, as well.
Reward: Secured Graves in Montfort
Managing Stress- Family Man: You have been feeling a bit...burnt-out, lately.
Tired.
Seeing your family is well and wholesome though— and it will not be long before Gauvain and Bertrand are also sent to squire, though hopefully closer to home with one of your barons, perhaps— so spending more time with them should help alleviate that, at least.
Needed:25 Rolled:77+13=90
- You won't say all the stress fades away— not with one still in diapers— but it's the good stress. The kind of being at home and caring for your family, of helping to raise your sons to be the good men you know they can be.
As many nights as you can, you read to them, play with them, guide them. You answer their questions— including a surprisingly well managed, you think, answer when Bertrand asked where babies come from— as well as just being around, with them— and in your proudest moment, you have already taught Louis to ride. A little, friendly pony, mollified by the prescence of Bertrand, but it feels good.
With Bertrand, you walk the wilds.
With Gauvain, you run over maps and figures.
With Louis, you...well mostly you just tell him how proud you are of him.
And, of course, you spend more time with Annick. As might be expected of a man spending more time with his wife, nine months later a child is born.
But from the beginning you know she is...different. Sickly and crying, pale and soft, she and her mother alike are left bludgeoned by the birth and it seems your daughter, Phillipine, will not make it through the night.
However, a woman neither you, nor the Daughters of Rhya, nor the Mademoiselles of the Lady who attended to the birth, gives her a drink of some noxious black brew. Her eyes go milky white, and she seems, perhaps, blind; but she lives. Small and precious, you can hold her in a single one of your hands; and as you do, you swear you will protect her.
In thanks, you have an extra tithe offered to Rhya, Shallya and the Lady alike from among the nobility.
Reward: Spent time with family, stress removed, Snippet maybe
Prestige Actions: Savior of the Old World, foe to the Dark Elves, Destroyer of the Beastmen, reclaimer of the Palais des Fleurs. Your deeds are many, and to be much respected; you are respected throughout Bretonnia, even despite your youth.
Les Hommes D'Honor: Abuse is frequent, its marks hidden, its victims silenced by brute force. Well no longer. You will send emissaries, a rotating group of three men— a Knight, a Freeman, and a Peasant, to examine these lands— and if they be found wanting, their lords cruel, their wills vile— then these men will tell you, that you might bring them to task.
- Clerks have begun sending letters and so on.
Marriage Present: There will be a marriage between Sir Gasard of Bretonnia and the Emperor's Sister Lady Tamiko, as well as between a great many of the nobles that accompany both. Fortunately, you already know exactly what gift you're getting for the Royal Wedding— swords and armor for the warriors, and fine dresses for the ladies.
The craftsmen and women of the Dukedom were more than willing to do this for you in return for lucrative meetings between they and much of your kin— you'd be surprised how much Bretonnian steel is going to be filling the armies of Stirland.
However, you could do something...bigger.
Much bigger.
What, exactly, you are not sure, but you can come up with something.
- No expense is spared, no excuse accepted. A fiery, well-sharped sword is made, Almayse, and six more besides, along with armor and shields. But more than that, as well.
A band of priests and architects make their way to both the Embassy in Nippon and Gassard's land in Mousillon. And so, fine shrines are erected-- Chapels to the Lady, each one-hundred feet tall, carved of local marble with fine images of many members of both families, ending in very detailed and finely made statues of the bride and groom-- and at the center, nearly scraping the ceiling, the Lady, clad in fine robes that are carved to perfection, and seem to flow like real cloth. In Bretonnia proper, accoutrements are made of gold and silver, a fine scepter gripped in her hand as well as a crown. In Nippon, it is instead fine circlets of jade and a scepter of aluminum-- you just about fainted, but the expense was well worth it.
Benches made of Mahoghany hold aloft worshipers, while stain glass images of Landuin let in the light. At the center, under the Lady's gaze, there is an altar of pure gold, where a diamond chalice-- hardly accurate, likely, but impressive-- is filled with the dark red wine. Prayer books to the Lady are at the center.
To seal it off, Heraldries of the Earth strengthen the foundation, making them fine fastnesses.
It is an impressive show of wealth, to be sure. More, it is a call to the Lady and symbol of her glory.
And so even as two families come together, there is yet more to celebrate.
Reward: +5000 Prestige
--
Alright so there's a vote coming up tomorrow.
Just, you know. Be aware of that.
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A Student's Request
Voikirium
SV's Estalia Guy
- Location
- Ruritania Illinois
- Pronouns
- He/Him
A Student's Request
Bohemond Beastslayer of Bastonne has returned home after long years away from his wife. Killing, and breaking, and ruining, in the end it came down to a battle in the North of the Country-- he killed a foul dragon in the plains of Couronne-- and his shield he washed in the waters of the Lady's Lake.
Your student has asked to squire one of your sons. There is little doubt in your mind that it is meant honestly, earnestly, and justly. There is also little doubt that it will put into contact they and his other wards, the sons and daughters of his dead brothers.
He would be a good teacher, you think.
On the other hand, Bastonne is still a dangerous country-- and you have little doubt that Gauvain, at least, might try and go on an adventure and get killed in the process.
Bohemond's Character Sheet:
Bohemond of Bastonne
Born:1429
Your son's squire, a mace wielding warrior and hunter. One day, he will be the Beast-Slayer, and evil will quake where he walks.
Traits:
Hunter: He's a Bastonnian. What did you expect? (+2 Martial, +1 Diplomacy)
Strong: He's a big fella. (+3 Martial, +1 Diplomacy)
Brave: Never has he shrunk from battle. (+2 Martial)
Content: He has no thirst for power. (-1 Intrigue)
Proud: He bears himself well.
Just: He is just and noble. (+2 Stewardship, +1 Learning)
Descended of Giles: The blood of the Uniter flows through him, and it bred true, as proven by deeds. He will not die until the Lady is well good and ready...or if some goblin strikes in a filthy ambush, of course. (+10 Health, More vulnerable to dramatically appropriate deaths, Easier to be called to quest.)
Wanderer: He plans to wander the Kingdom and beyond, slaying monsters and beasts. (+2 Diplomacy)
Virtue of Heroic Animus: He is heroism at its finest-- and any attempt to remove that from him would end... poorly. (+4 Martial, +4 Piety, Resistance to Ranged Attacks, Magical Resistance (3), Heroic Killing Blow, Restriction on Magical Weapons Nullified, Penalties to Ranged Options)
Grail Knight: He slew the Dragon and drunk of the Grail. (+4 Martial, +4 Piety, +2 Diplomacy with all Forces of Order, +4 to Bretonnian Diplomacy, +1 Stewardship)
Scarred: He has earned some gnarly wounds. (+Prestige)
Paladin: A leader of men. (+1 Martial, +2 Piety)
Devout: Yep. (+3 Piety)
Chivalrous: You taught him, didn't you? He refuses even to slay anything weaker than him. (+1 Piety, +1 Diplomacy)
War-Gear:
Beast-Mace of Bastonne: Carved from the thigh bone of a dragon and a head of Gromril worked by Dwarfen Runesmiths, it thirsts for the blood of beasts. (+5 Against Monsters)
Bohemond's Shield: Cleansed in the Lady's Waters, it heals, rejuvenates, and strengthens. (Grants regeneration, immune to diseases)
Stats:
Martial: 20+2+3+2+4+1+4= 40- His day is come. Fear the warrior of the Lady-- for he is dread. And as your father thought, there are none who equal him.
Piety: 20+4+4+3+2+1=34- The Lady loves the Grandson of Gilles.
Diplomacy: 15+1+1+2+2=21- Men follow him easily, and he has a good charm about him.
Intrigue: 9-1=8- He has little taste for treacheries, deceit, and lies.
Learning: 8+1=9- He's smart, but focused and much so on his second love-- that is to say, killing monsters.
Stewardship: 8+2+1=11- He does, still, mostly leave such matters to others, but he has become an acceptable judge of character, at least.
Prestige: 7,500
Who, if anyone, will you send to squire with him? (Will leave on turn 30)
[] Bertrand. He will be exceptional, as well-- best to leave him with one of his few equals.
[] Gauvain. The boy wants to be great, and you know of only one greater than Bohemond in the Kingdom.
[] Both. As much as it hurts to not have your sons around, they will learn much from him.
[] Neither. Gauvain wishes to learn from you, you think, and Bertrand has made many friends in the forest.
Bohemond Beastslayer of Bastonne has returned home after long years away from his wife. Killing, and breaking, and ruining, in the end it came down to a battle in the North of the Country-- he killed a foul dragon in the plains of Couronne-- and his shield he washed in the waters of the Lady's Lake.
Your student has asked to squire one of your sons. There is little doubt in your mind that it is meant honestly, earnestly, and justly. There is also little doubt that it will put into contact they and his other wards, the sons and daughters of his dead brothers.
He would be a good teacher, you think.
On the other hand, Bastonne is still a dangerous country-- and you have little doubt that Gauvain, at least, might try and go on an adventure and get killed in the process.
Bohemond's Character Sheet:
Bohemond of Bastonne
Born:1429
Your son's squire, a mace wielding warrior and hunter. One day, he will be the Beast-Slayer, and evil will quake where he walks.
Traits:
Hunter: He's a Bastonnian. What did you expect? (+2 Martial, +1 Diplomacy)
Strong: He's a big fella. (+3 Martial, +1 Diplomacy)
Brave: Never has he shrunk from battle. (+2 Martial)
Content: He has no thirst for power. (-1 Intrigue)
Proud: He bears himself well.
Just: He is just and noble. (+2 Stewardship, +1 Learning)
Descended of Giles: The blood of the Uniter flows through him, and it bred true, as proven by deeds. He will not die until the Lady is well good and ready...or if some goblin strikes in a filthy ambush, of course. (+10 Health, More vulnerable to dramatically appropriate deaths, Easier to be called to quest.)
Wanderer: He plans to wander the Kingdom and beyond, slaying monsters and beasts. (+2 Diplomacy)
Virtue of Heroic Animus: He is heroism at its finest-- and any attempt to remove that from him would end... poorly. (+4 Martial, +4 Piety, Resistance to Ranged Attacks, Magical Resistance (3), Heroic Killing Blow, Restriction on Magical Weapons Nullified, Penalties to Ranged Options)
Grail Knight: He slew the Dragon and drunk of the Grail. (+4 Martial, +4 Piety, +2 Diplomacy with all Forces of Order, +4 to Bretonnian Diplomacy, +1 Stewardship)
Scarred: He has earned some gnarly wounds. (+Prestige)
Paladin: A leader of men. (+1 Martial, +2 Piety)
Devout: Yep. (+3 Piety)
Chivalrous: You taught him, didn't you? He refuses even to slay anything weaker than him. (+1 Piety, +1 Diplomacy)
War-Gear:
Beast-Mace of Bastonne: Carved from the thigh bone of a dragon and a head of Gromril worked by Dwarfen Runesmiths, it thirsts for the blood of beasts. (+5 Against Monsters)
Bohemond's Shield: Cleansed in the Lady's Waters, it heals, rejuvenates, and strengthens. (Grants regeneration, immune to diseases)
Stats:
Martial: 20+2+3+2+4+1+4= 40- His day is come. Fear the warrior of the Lady-- for he is dread. And as your father thought, there are none who equal him.
Piety: 20+4+4+3+2+1=34- The Lady loves the Grandson of Gilles.
Diplomacy: 15+1+1+2+2=21- Men follow him easily, and he has a good charm about him.
Intrigue: 9-1=8- He has little taste for treacheries, deceit, and lies.
Learning: 8+1=9- He's smart, but focused and much so on his second love-- that is to say, killing monsters.
Stewardship: 8+2+1=11- He does, still, mostly leave such matters to others, but he has become an acceptable judge of character, at least.
Prestige: 7,500
Who, if anyone, will you send to squire with him? (Will leave on turn 30)
[] Bertrand. He will be exceptional, as well-- best to leave him with one of his few equals.
[] Gauvain. The boy wants to be great, and you know of only one greater than Bohemond in the Kingdom.
[] Both. As much as it hurts to not have your sons around, they will learn much from him.
[] Neither. Gauvain wishes to learn from you, you think, and Bertrand has made many friends in the forest.
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King Arthur
The Once and Future King
That's pretty darn clever, I like it.
