Excerpt from lord flinches: Castles and other fortifications, What are they?. 62 BAR:
There are multiple designs for castles, that are used within the world, the most popular due to the fact that it is the cheapest and easiest to construct is the motte and bailey castle. this castle is a simple structure wherein; the keep (made of either stone or wood) is placed on a raised area (man-made or natural) called a motte. This motte is then accompanied by an enclosed area, the bailey, surrounded by a palisade and a ditch (may or may not have water).
The daunting sight of the fortified wooden palisade that rises into the air like a great tree trunk that surrounds the motte and bailey were the manor rests is only the second indication of our distance from the manor as we ambled our way down the wide dirt road.
The first is, unmistakably the manor itself; a towering structure that laid like a great dragon on top of its immense horde that is the grand Motte.
The man-made hill that lays at the tail of the fortified bailey, the lords' manor, a refurbished fortress draped in a multitude of banners undoubtedly all possessing the lords' crest. And decorated with tremendous long glass windows glistening in the morning sun.
The fortress now manor was constructed, in only two days apparently, during the black river war, in which we, or should I say the kingdom gained this scant strip of land in the peace settlement 20 or so summers ago, or as I’m told at least.
Marwin is always grumbling that we should have pressed for something considerably more substantial for all the men that we sacrificed.
Originally there was only one supposed to be a gate into the bailey, more defensive supposedly, where the village coalesced overtime after his lordship was given control of the castle. But the lord in his seemingly infinite wisdom had another gate built at the side. Can't be mingling with the dirty peasants now, can he? Though supposedly it was just to get to the Forrest quicker.
As we move closer to the towering wooden palisades, my arms seem to tighten around father’s waist at its daunting appearance, the sight of the lords' banners placed precariously on the palisades becomes clearer and clearer.
The lord I've come to learn is only from some cadet branch of some other prestigious noble house; though hell if I know who they are.
His crest is therefore split into two parts, the crest of the main house and His own personal crest though, I could only guess at which is which.
The crest on the left of the banner displays twin red snakes intertwined with each other ascending to the sky like a spear trying to pierce the heavens; the right crest is a black fox peering back as if observing its prey. Both are placed on a deep blue field that seems to drag the eyes towards it.
Closer still, to the imposing large walls and the faint radiant glow of steel helmets be seen, the fletching of arrows peek over the lower part of the parapet, a warning, that’s built on the wooden battlement tall enough to hide a man behind them if need be. One of the guards casually leans over the parapet as we slow our approach, his long brown beard pushing past the leather strap of his gleaming kettle hat. “hail good man” his shout seemed to carry a weight to it.
Father brings the horse to a stand, with a yank of the reins, "Hail" father's voice is loud like a crack of thunder, not the voice he ordinarily uses.
The guardsman appears to have recognized father if the knowing squint in his eyes and the slight twitch of his lips is any indication.
A seemingly long second later and the guardsman's face is plastered with a welcoming smile "milo, you old goat what are yous doing here?" the voice that I can now recognize as peter the old millers' second son no longer holds any of that weight that did before.
fathers response comes after a booming laugh, less like the crackle he has when mocking me, and more like a normal laugh. "Lord Reynard wished to have a chat with me, and who am I to deny our lords' noble dream of chatting with one such as myself " although his face isn't visible I can tell what kind of grin father has.
The reply to a comment such as that should be one of reprimand, peter however just laughs a merry laugh.
"Alright, alright," with a smile peter turns his head towards the other guard who seemingly still hasn't discerned that we're here.
"Geor you sack of slack shit open the gods, dammed gate for our illustrious guest" the guardsman, Geor apparently, looks quite stunned if only for a second before replying.
“err” he stutters out his mouth slightly agape. Geors' eyes seemed to flick between us and peter in rapid succession before bringing his gloved hand to his chest, a bit too vigorously if that pained whine is anything to off.
“right away sir” I do suppose guard duty is quite monotonous especially on this gate. Only the lord, after all, is supposed to use it so it’s quite understandable to get lost in your own world though by the looks of it peter found his reaction to be quite amusing, with a grin eerily like fathers manifesting on his bearded face.
As Geor slither away from view to open the large wooden gate, peter once again lazily leans over the wall, “so milo, what the Lord wants with ya?” quite the intrusive question that, but I can't say I’m not interested in the answer as well.
“ah ya know just business, secret business” father says as he taps his forehead with a light chuckle.
One of Peter's eyebrows rises into his helmet at that and with a knowing smirk “secret business eh. You beat one of those posh knights again dint ya” now that got me to raise my eyebrows, father beat a knight?
“Now why’d I ever do such a thing” father's ruff voice might sound hurt but I’m sure he has that grim self-satisfied grin plastered over his face he has whenever he betters me.
The audible sound of a shrill creaking prevents peter from making any kind of response. Hastily I lean around the side of father contorting my small frame so that I'd be able to get a greater view of the massive gates slowly opening.
I’m not even deterred by the dreadful stink of father pits; watching with vivid fascination as the great wooden gate opens inwards.
Farther kicks for Basket to advance slowly preempting peters boisterous shout of “in ya go then”
I don’t glance at him; the insides of the baily are greatly more interesting. I’ve lived in the meager territory of the manor for as I can hope to remember, not that long mind you, but I’ve never been allowed inside, farther, unfortunately, doesn't appreciate festivals. Well, there has to be a first for everything Afterall.
