-The Price of Freedom-
[Excerpt]
To surpass the constraints of flaming arrows, a more intricate contrivance arose, comprising curved metal rods linking a tip and hollow end for the shaft. These arrows could bear hot coals or thickened pitch in protective cages without dread of quenching, enabling safer ignition from afar upon targets such as straw or thatch roofs.
Down the epochs, flaming arrows and crossbow bolts endured in usage. Friedrich von Adlerberg recounted their deployment during an Algrian assault upon the Crothian township of Oran, extolling their efficacy in sowing chaos.
Innovations in Verum during the latter half of the century ushered forth fire arrows bearing incendiary putty sealed in resin, wielded in maritime skirmishes. Meanwhile, the Ariens wielded fire arrows with powder pouches, whilst the Quiltonians did dabble in rocket-driven armaments.
Incendiary arrows oft found companionship with other siege engines, such as gunpowder mortars, trebuchets, and catapults, wreaking dire havoc upon enemy fortifications. Moreover, they were defensively wielded to set aflame enemy siege apparatuses and dissuade assaults upon fortified positions.
Despite their efficacy, the use of incendiary arrows was not devoid of challenges. The crafting of inflammable substances demanded specialized lore and materials, whilst the precise delivery of arrows necessitated skill and accuracy from archers.
…
Excerpt from Milburga Leah's Speculum universale - 'The Voltulian Philosophica', located on the coordinates 00.00.23.01.07; Udoris/Udoris/Arms/Incendiary Weapons/Fire arrows.
[END]
Faywyn.
The rough waters of Strega did kiss Charlotte's hull as she did glide up yon restless river. 'Twas morning, and as ancestors would decree, a stiff breeze blew from northward, billowing out the brig's burgundy sails as it tugged her upstream 'gainst the current. The deck of the vessel was a throngèd scene with sailors expertly navigating her whilst armed knights awaited in readiness to disembark. Within the captain's chambers, Lord Richard von Montfort, the Count of Norcastle, found himself in solemn contemplation. The flickering candlelight cast upon the table afore him did dance upon the furrows etched into his brow as he ruminated, not to an assembled audience but to himself and the silent echoes of the past and the uncertain winds of the future.
With the king gone and no heir in sight, another civil war loomed just beyond the horizon. A war that did threaten to rend a bloody scar through the entire length of his domain. Richard was not blind nor was he foolish; he could discern the tides of misfortune slowly shifting against him. What the count did not comprehend, however, was the role the young Grifenburg earl was playing in these shifting sands. Richard still suspected that the earl was a mere pawn furthering the agenda of another. After all, Levi was only a boy. An infant, in truth. Without the aged wisdom of another, his grasp over the duchy would surely be feeble and tentative, threatening to fray at any moment.
Knowing this, Richard found himself burdened with two questions: Who truly controlled Faywyn and what were their intentions? The arrival of Charlotte at the harbour was a tense and uneasy affair. Two small boats bearing armed men intercepted them ere they drew nigh. The occupants of the furthest vessel bore cross bolts laden with fire arrows, their countenance bordering on hostility as a knight among them demanded the crew of the vessel declare itself and its contents and surrender themselves to a search. Richard peered out the window of his chamber to behold the menacing mouths of cannons, half obscured by the morning mist atop the martello towers, swivelling to focus on his brig.
Anxious, the count ascended to the deck to find his helmsman and viscount exchanging harsh words with the hostile knight aboard one of the boats, the pair visibly offended by the fellow's crude demands. "What is transpiring?" Richard demanded, interjecting into the growing argument.
"These men demand to search the brig ere they permit us to dock, My Liege," Jack, Richard's viscount explained, incensed. "They persist in this demand even after I informed them that this is no merchant vessel, but rather a lordly craft exempt from such debasement."
Richard turned his gaze to the knight below. "What be thy name, Sir?" he shouted to the man.
"Ser Mannon, Lord Count," the knight declared. "Faywyn's Captain of the Watch."
"I see. So why this insistence on searching my ship ere we be allowed to dock?"
"'Tis but a mandate issued by my lord: All vessels seeking entry into the harbour must be searched for contraband. No vessel may sail past Faywyn until the blight that is Duke Tristan of Khule be quelled. All who dare defy this decree shall be sunk without exception."
Richard felt his left brow arch in disbelief. "The Strega belongs to no single man," he declared. "Not even the king lays claim to it. Yet, thy lord deems it wise to bar another from its use?"
"I know not the thoughts of my liege, Lord Count," the knight replied. "I merely faithfully obey his commands as is my duty!"
Richard remained silent for a few moments longer, his perplexity mounting. "Allow them aboard," he finally decreed, much to his viscount's dismay.
The earl of Faywyn was much different from what Richard had imagined him to be when tidings of him were first carried by his lady.
The earl sat opposite him in a large chamber, a four-meter-long table between them. Two pairs of guards stood at each end, each vigilantly guarding their lord. To Richard's right, halfway betwixt himself and the other lord, a woman sat before a small table of her own laden with ink and parchment. It was a sombre affair, the meeting.
"You have sought audience with me, Lord Monfort," spake the youthful lord, his countenance unmoved. "Speak forthwith, that we may conclude this and attend to matters of greater import."
Richard's left brow arched in curiosity. "Are you the one with whom I am to parley? Have you no advisor whom you would foist this meeting onto, or at least invite to guide you?"
The youth paused before chuckling, comprehension alighting in his eyes. "I am no puppet, Lord Monfort … if such be your implication."
Then 'tis your decree alone, Lord Levi, to strip my wife's kin of their title and bind them as serfs?" questioned Richard.
"Aye."
"And the humiliation I suffered at the harbour, was that also your doing?"
"Indeed."
"Before this day, our paths have not crossed, have they? I trust I have done you no offence."
The earl smiled. "Nay. Not at all."
Richard regarded him, uncertain of his demeanour. "Some time past, my lady received missives from her brother, recounting deeds I deemed fantastical. You have wrought many novelties, Lord Levi. Enserfing noble kin and obstructing passage upon the Strega, worst among them. Thy actions beg the question if you have ever pondered the repercussions of your decisions."
"I fail to perceive the relevance of that to your presence here," replied the earl. "Unless, perchance, I have misconstrued your desire to parley."
Richard pondered the youth before conceding. "You are right. It matters not. Now, concerning my kinsman and his kin; what ransom do you seek?"
"At present, I have no interest in ransoming the count," Levi declared.
"Truly?"
"Aye."
"And his kin?" Richard asked. The earl stared at him for a long moment, considering.
"'Twould be discourteous to send you back to your lady empty-handed," Levi stated. "I would consider ransoming the youngest, Titi, and easing the terms of their servitude. Should you make it worth my while, I may grant the count and his kin improved living conditions and a lighter sentence."
Richard fell silent, musing. "And Gilbert?"
Levi shook his head. "The earl, his mother, and sister were complicit in treason. Only Titi may be deemed wholly innocent."
Once more, Richard pondered. "How much would you reduce their sentence?"
"Five years for the count and earl, seven for the women."
"And what is your request in exchange?"
"Saltpetre. An initial sum for Titi's release, then monthly deliveries to lessen the sentences of the rest."
"How much precisely?"
"...Two hundred bushels initially, then five each month."
"'Tis extortion," Richard countered with a frown.
"'Tis my final offer," the earl replied. "Yet, you may choose to return with an army for their release at a later time or join Duke Tristan in besieging Faywyn. But know, should I suspect your hand in Faywyn's demise, none of the Heras shall survive."
Richard stared impassively at the earl for a long moment, anger bubbling just under his lid. "I require time to consider."
"Take your time," the earl acquiesced. "Whilst you are here, let us discuss opening a trade route betwixt Faywyn and Norcastle for saltpetre and charcoal. With the capital in ruins, you must have lost a prime market. Fear not, I shall endeavour to fill that void for you."
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