Quest Deep Within Castle Amirault

[Gerhold]

Gerhold's eyes ran through the contract's details once again, caring not for the myriad of other offers pinned to the notice board. The pay was good, even if it was to be redistributed among, at the very least, two other sellswords. He wasn't one to take on contracts which allowed room for others - let alone where they were absolutely required - but given the task at hand, he could see the logic behind it. Whoever was selected to undertake the quest was expected to eliminate, by all means necessary, a number of scavengers and guards from a prominent noble family currently occupying the ruins of the infamous Castle Amirault and, once inside, seek a heirloom belonging to the late owners of the building.

The heirloom in question? The Emerald of Ser Montaigne. Gerhold knew not of the item in question, or the person it was named after. Nor did he care to know. After all, he wasn't to keep it, and magical artifacts never really piqued his interest.

After weighing his options for a moment, he decided to visit the contractor himself and try his luck. Talk around the peaceful town of Stetinson was that the contractor in question was a picky man, and had turned down many adventurers and mercenaries applying for the quest, so as soon as he stepped into the vicinity of the meeting place - a small, yet certainly luxurious manner nestled between an inn of equal prominence and a smithy's shop - he was met with the sight of a small group of travelers, well geared and young, dejectedly leaving the building, shoulders slumped and eyes fixated on the cobbled streets below them.

Gerhold entered the building right after them, greeted by a cozy, well-kept interior. The place in itself wasn't spacious, but its wealth showed on the number of expensive artifacts and furniture on display. A servant, dressed in simple clothes, approached him and bowed. The knight simply nodded in acknowledgement.

"Ah, yes, come for the quest, my good sir?" Gerhold nodded in responde, still silent. The servant spun on his heels and waved a hand. "Come with me then."

The path was brief, passing through a stuffy dining room and through a door which forced Gerhold to duck as to avoid hitting the frame, and he was guided to what he assumed to be the owner's study. Bookshelves dotted the walls, competing for space with relics of ornamental weaponry and pieces of ancient armor. At the center, sat a desk made of pure ebony wood, where a bearded man idly sifted through piles of scrolls and documents, signing some, and discarding others. His servant cleared his throat, and the man simply nodded, gesturing with a hand to request privacy.

The man lifted his eyes to face Gerhold, and the banished knight was met with a mixture of surprise and odd curiosity. "Oh." He started, standing from his seat. "I see that word of my request has traveled a long way. Didn't expect to see the Rabenschwarzian exile taking up my offer."

Gerhold's left eyebrow rose, and the man waved his hands defensively. "Not that I mind, of course. I am rather pleased. All things considered, you carry experience on your back, and reliability is what I'm seeking for this task. Of course, we'd still require more people."

And as if on cue, the servant could be heard walking back, with a new set of footsteps following him.

Abjurer Liam Silvern Bronmaen Greatbelt

 

[Liam Silvern]

Word of an incredibly lucrative job had reached Elbion. It had gotten a lot of attention from the sellswords and mercenaries around the city, but there was a problem with it. Whoever took it up would need to travel all the way down to the Allirian Reach just for a chance at the reward. That was enough to prevent most from aiming for it, but there was still some foolish few.

Liam was one of those foolish few. The thought of travel by boat, as it was the only reasonable way to make it in time for the job, and leaving his wife Nerisyrre Silvern behind in Elbion for weeks or months did not settle well with him. It was his two greatest fears after all. He knew his wife would be okay. She was just a magnet for trouble though and he would rather be there to get her out of it. The reward for the job though was just too much for him to pass up. It would go a long way to getting him and his wife closer to their goals in life. Everything was going into her education, although he didn't tell her that, so that left him no real room to save. He needed to keep himself and their horses alive after all. This job could give them the breathing room they needed to move get to the next stage.

The journey was long and terrifying, but Liam eventually found his way to the town of Stetinson. He arrived in his armor with his pack containing his belongs and a quiver full of arrows on his back. A longbow hung from the pack. His sword and dagger were strapped to his hips long with several pouches. The directions a helpful local gave him eventually lead him to a manor. It was not all that impressive. His wife's family lived in an estate that made the building look humble after all, but that was also Vel Anir not a peaceful town in the Allirian Reach.

Several mercenaries past Liam by. From their faces he knew they had met rejection. Their equipment was of better quality than his own and their age not much different although they could have been younger. Not the best sign for his chances. He had been getting more recognition back in Elbion and better paying jobs, but he was still relatively unknown there. His name was going to carry no weight here. Chances were good he had wasted his time and coin coming here instead of enjoying his far too short a life by spending it with his lovely wife.

A servant greeted Liam at the door and inquired about his business. Once learning it was about the contract he was guided to the one who placed it and lord of the manor. Upon entering he studied the room. Lots of luxury. It was expensive and felt almost like a waste. Probably a good sign on this job being legit. Another individual in armor and armed was already present. From the way he carried himself it was clear he was experienced and skilled. Not a good sign for Liam's chances on being hired. Time to find out if all of this was worth it.

Upon being asked his name, Liam stated simply, "Malachite."

Abjurer Gerhold Bronmaen Greatbelt

 

[Abjurer]

'Twas morning when the traveler came stumbling into sight of the town. He was an interesting sight for two reasons. First, the man was clearly a wizard. The beaming, grandfatherly countenance half-hidden beneath an ample beard of white-gray hair, the voluminous green-blue robes, the simple stave all pointed to such a conclusion. The second was the fact that he was arguing rather loudly with his donkey. It appeared to be named "Archibald" and was apparently guilty of "talking back to his elders". The placid braying that the wizard received in response to his increasingly extravagant threats might be taken as proof of his point.

In any case, the arguing soon ceased as the pair came into sight of their goal. The local notice board. Rumor had it a wealthy contractor wanted a magical artifact in the area retrieved. Ambroz had no interest in the artifact itself, but any magical defenses protecting it. . . Those, he was interested in.

Leaning against his unadorned stave, Ambroz scanned the notice board until he found the item he wanted. The job request. Eliminate the occupants of Castle Amirault and secure the resident artifact. So the rumors were true. Excellent. He read through it one last time before setting off to find a place to stable Archibald while he went to the designated meeting point.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The clack of wood against cobblestone heralded the arrival of the wizard at the residence of the contractor. He had managed to find an inn to keep Archibald at not too far from the meeting point. Convenient given he wasn't too fast in his old age.

Ambroz was spared from opening the door by one of the contractor's servants, a plain man in simple garb who bowed to him.

"I assume you are here for the request?" Ambroz nodded and was ushered in.

The interior was about what the old wizard expected; Wealthy, but not ostentatious. Certainly not to his own tastes, but not many this far from the Tundras shared his appreciation for a small, cozy cabin. In any case, Ambroz supposed, he really couldn't begrudge the fact that his potential employer enjoyed expensive things. He wouldn't have a job if not. Such musings occupied him as he was lead inwards towards the contractor's office. Within was, expectedly, the contractor, but also two armored men. Interesting. It seems he wasn't the only applicant.

"Greetings!" Ambroz said, tone cheerful. "I'm Ambroz."

 

[Gerhold]

Gerhold studied the newcomer swiftly, and subtly, from the corner of his eye. A man, certainly around his age, only a few ways shorter than himself and giving off the distinct air of a sellsword. The knight knew it wasn't his position to judge, and neither was he one to make assumptions based off on one's appearances. The only thing he guessed was that the man was definitely a crafty fighter, preferring dexterity and grace to raw strength and endurance. On the other hand, the contractor made his pleasure rather visible.

"Oh, another contender, I see. Malachite, is it? An interesting name." The noble rubbed his chin with a hand, the other impertinently drumming his digits on the wooden desk. "You seem like a capable enough sort, certainly better than those air-headed 'young warriors'. But do not allow me to ramble: we still need a thir--"

"My lord." The servant timely interrupted, making way for an elderly figure to enter the study. There was a sigh of mixed exasperation and relief leaving the contractor's throat. "Another one has come for the quest."

"Speak of the devil." He spoke under his breath, but seemed to be ultimately relieved. This stroke of luck could definitely speed up his search and halt his rival's intentions for good. "Welcome, welcome. Ambroz it is, then? You have the look of a wandering, wise mage. Might just fit into what I'm looking for."

Gerhold was surprised with the man's swift resolution. Malachite hadn't even had time to present himself fully, and Ambroz had just arrived. Regardless, he wasn't one to complain, specially when it meant that he didn't have to wait another day for a number of suitable applicants to appear.

"Well then, let us begin." The noble paced behind his desk, hands held behind his back. "And introductions are in order. My name is Emmanuel Philippe-Amirault." The small revelation managed to steal a reaction from the stoic Gerhold, whose eyebrows shot up in mild surprise. "Yes, a descendant of the ill-fated Amirault family. And no, I'm not here to give you a history lesson. Let us be concise."

Emmanuel gave the ghost of a smile, and a scroll was produced and spread over the desk, revealing a rather detailed map of the castle, the papel made yellow by the passing of time. "This is your target, Castle Amirault. Of course, the map doesn't take into consideration the collapsed sections, but it'll be of great aid to you all. What you are looking for, is hidden here," His fingers ghosted over the blueprints of the deepest levels of the castle, where the vaults were, and pressed down on a particular room, "where the old Amirault family kept their most valued heirlooms."

Another pause, and Emmanuel pushed the map into their hands, eyes now trained on the trio. "The mission is as told on the contract. Eliminate the men serving under Campliagi's men, and retrieve the artifact. I do mention that none can survive. Dispose of the corpses, if possible. Campliagi cannot know - at least in time - that his operation has failed." Campliagi, a prominent noble and holder of lands not far from the town they were in, was a known rival of the joint Phillippe-Amirault dynasty. "I do hope I can trust you with this."

"Now, you may be wondering why I was so fast to confide these facts for you, despite turning down so many. Well, I desire reliability, and experience." His eyes landed on Gerhold, studying him slowly. "Each of you fits into what I'm seeking. Never a judge a book by its cover, but you," He pointed a finger, shifting between the three, "you all seem reliable. An errant knight with a tale on his back, a sellsword from far lands, if your garb does not deceive me, and a mage shaped by age and experience."

"Of course, I certainly hope I am not making a rushed decision by choosing you for this task." His eyes roamed between them, suddenly laden with criticism, as if seeking for any signs of weakness. "The payment is plentiful for you three, so... do not disappoint me. It will be split evenly among all three of you, unless, of course, any of you would pitch in a suggestion."

Gerhold stepped forward, arms crossed over his armored chest. "Do pass over a portion of my payment to the other two. I am in no condition to haul that much gold by myself."

Emmanuel's eyes had a gleam of surprise. "Is that so?" And the knight nodded. "Very well, then. Anymore doubts?" He now scanned between the other two, awaiting any further questions. "Let us be quick. The more we wait, the further Campliagi's men scour through the ruins."

 

[Liam Silvern]

The contractor's reaction to Liam was not what he expected. The earlier mercenaries had been declined despite being better equipt and showing more enthusiasm than the near stoic Malachite. He wasn't about to complain. It meant the reward was his. But it did leave him doubting the man's judgement a bit. No inquiry into his skills or experience or achievements. Back in Elbion those were always the first things people requested. Seemed the people of the Reach were different.

The armored man however had taken stock of Liam just as he had of him. A good sign if they were working together. There was no chance for any questioning to take place however before a newcomer arrived. Glancing at them revealed someone he was familiar with. What Ambroz was doing here was beyond Liam, but it was welcome. He knew he could trust at least one person on this job now.

A nod in greeting was directed at the elderly wizard. No need for pleasantries as their soon to be employer began to go into the details. Seemed there was some noble house scandal involved in matters as well as political maneuvering. It was beginning to feel like Vel Anir. The mission in question was a recover and elimination pairing. That was a bit rarer. Usually people either wanted everyone dead or something recovered with no care on who all died along the way. For both to be involved this meant the mission was likely going to be as difficult as the reward suggested.

As the reward that had foolishly drawn Liam away from his beautiful wife was brought up, he was surprised that the supposed knight declined part of it. Too much gold to carry. That would certainly be an issue for Liam trying to get back to Elbion as well. He would rather not be robbed along the way back. So when the option for other forms of rewards opened up, he took it.

"Property, two new horses one being a sturdy pack horse and the other a long distance rider, shares in your company, and luxurious Allirian wines and fabrics to sell back in Elbion." Liam stated simply in a tone more like a trade negotiation and less like a sellsword requesting alternative pay.

Gerhold Abjurer

 

[Abjurer]

Ambroz's eyebrows rose in surprise. A face he recognized! It had been awhile since his adventures in and around Seaview, but he certainly had not forgotten Liam. Taking his cue from the sellsword, Ambroz merely offered a nod in greeting -- pleasantries would come after, preferably in a tavern of some sort. He also offered a nod to the man he did not recognize before turning to listen the contractor. It seemed the aforementioned had decided to swiftly get down to business.

His eyebrows subsequently rose in surprise once more. It wasn't often that he was asked to go ruin-robbin' on behest of one of the living heirs! In fact, this was probably the first time! Significantly more interested than he was before, Ambroz paid rapt attention to Emmanuel's speech. No further surprises were revealed, unfortunately. Pity. Surprises were far better than gold, in his opinion.

Speaking of gold, however. . .

"I'll most certainly accept your coin! I applaud you; not too many remember how these things were done back in the day! Hiring wandering vagrants to go clear ruins, thas' the way it's done! Though I would like to propose a modification of my own; I wish to keep any other magical artifacts or tomes unearthed for myself. I'm willing to return a fraction of my pay per item collected, if need be."

 

[Gerhold]

Gerhold, throughout the speech, was deep in thought. He wanted to figure out just who this Emmanuel was, and what could have led him to make such a... desperate choice. Certainly, the three were capable enough sorts, but he doubted that any equally as experienced or perhaps even better suited options hadn't shown over the course of the past few days. Perhaps it was desperation? For a man with politics up in his neck - at least that was what he made out of his rivalry with Campliagi - perhaps time was of essence, and he couldn't afford to wait any longer for the 'dream team'.

Now, however, Emmanuel had to deal with the requests made from the two other men. Malachite's was the heaviest. Property, horses, shares, even trading goods... was he a sellsword or an aspiring trader? Discomfort was visible on his long face, and he ran a hand through his raven-black hair, clearly surprised by the dimension of the man. Finally, not a moment after his small display of confusion, he hummed, arms crossing in mild disapproval. "...Accepted. Tis a most dangerous task, and as evidenced by Zimmermann," He pointed a finger to the man in question, revealing his surname, "gold would be troublesome to carry. The horses will be seen to. As for the shares, I cannot guarantee you great portions, but you'll see profitable slices from my trade companies."

A pause, once again. "Well, on the terms of properties, I can offer you a lumber mill, close to Alliria. Profitable enough if you know the ropes of administration. The trade goods in question shall be given as well... albeit, do not expect a massive shipment of it."

Gerhold stood and watched, surprised by how easily Emmanuel collapsed before Malachite's requests. He wasn't attributing it to the sellsword's words, for they carried no attempt of persuasion. They were objective and lacking in any sort of charm, like a proposition at a trade company's meeting. Instead, he decided to take Phillipe-Amirault for a desperate man.

Emmanuel was much more calm when hearing Ambroz's requests. "I care not if you take any relics from the castle. They serve no purpose to me. A word of advice, though: the previous occupants were fond of traps and other devilish machinations. Advise caution." The warning was more professional than emphatic. After all, if they were to expire due to traps, Emmanuel's goal was only partially completed, and he'd take eons to realize their failure. "Albeit, with Malachite's propositions..."

"I suppose there is not much else I can say. With the map I've given you, you shall see that the ride from here to Amirault is only a day long. And as last reminders - perhaps reinforcements, given Malachite's proposals... do not allow any of the slain men to be discovered. Additionally, complete the task as swiftly as possible. That is all."

Emmanuel sat down on his luxurious armchair, finges interlocked as he gave them one last look. "Go, now. The earlier you leave, the faster this will be done."

And with that, the servant arrived again, escorting them out of the house without any further considerations.

Before leaving, Gerhold had taken hold of the map, keeping it at hand so they could plan their route. Once outside, he turned to his new companions, face hard as stone; it was hard to tell whether he was pleased or unhappy with the proposals. Neither applied, regardless.

"I suppose introductions are in order, then. Gerhold Zimmermann, hedge knight." He dipped his head briefly in respect. "I have stowed my horse at the stables of the local inn. Depending on whether you would prefer to hash out a plan in the inn, or when we set up camp on the road, I'll follow. I am ready and rested for the voyage, so whenever you desire to leave, say so."

 

[Liam Silvern]

Liam just stood there with a blank expression on his face as Emmanuel was caught off-guard by his demands of payment. It was not something he didn't expect. No one would think a sellsword would have any use for what sounded more like trader talk. What did surprise him was the lack of haggling involved. His payment demand was steep and he was clearly taking advantage of the situation, but that didn't mean he wasn't willing to make space. You always started off high after all so you could be worked down and still get what you wanted.

The mention of a lumbermill as the property didn't excite Liam much. He knew how profitable they were, but also how finicky. Between the demand for reliable workers and the ever shifting prices and desire on lumber if could be a bit risky. It also would be too unmanageable from the distance he would be from it. He wanted something simpler and able to be run well independently of his presence. It was a subject to approach after he had earned his pay though. For now he had secured his desired reward as pay.

Little attention was given to what the other two wanted in payment. Knowing Ambroz it likely had something to do with magical things. He was a scholar of the arcane after all. The hedge knight was a different story. He seemed almost indifferent to his payment. Odd. There was a story to be had, but it was best saved for another time he imagined. Instead he just stayed silent and listened until something required his direct input.

After Gerhold finally declared himself and asked for their opinions, Liam spoke up. "Discuss in private at the inn before we leave. If we need supplies for our plan we won't be able to procure them on the road. I'd rather have as many options available as possible." With that he turned his attention to Abjurer and waited for the elderly wizard to provide his own insight.

 

[Abjurer]

"...Advise caution," Emmanuel finished.

Ambroz blinked in surprise. He certainly hadn't expected to be given what he wanted for free! The man must be insane; Ambroz had even offered to pay for any bric-a-brac he recovered! The thought that not everyone was a master of abjuration and were unable to survive said bric-a-brac exploding in their faces didn't even cross the wizard's mind.

"I'll take your advice to heart," he promised. It didn't take a trained eye to see that he almost certainly wouldn't. Still, it also didn't take much thinking to realize that old wizards weren't foolish wizards. In either case, Emmanuel made no comment on the matter and moved on.

Ambroz was silent for the rest of Emmanuel's spiel, electing to instead silently stroke his prodigious beard as he contemplated the man's words. He certainly didn't do it to play to the image of 'proper wizard', Telriah forbid! No, certainly not. It just helped him think.

He maintained his silence as the nice servant from earlier, with all courtesy, booted them out, only electing to speak after Gerhold introduced himself.

"Ah, yes!" he said, dipping his head to both men, "Introductions! Certainly, certainly! Pardon my manners! My name's Ambroz Baros. Jus' a wanderin' old man with a pinch a'magic, I'm afraid. Nothing too exciting. I stored m'donkey at the local inn as well, so I'd prefer if we stopped there before heading to the castle."

He was a bit more than 'an old man with a pinch of magic', but he certainly wasn't going to say that, at least not yet. Proper wizards were humble and proper wizards were subtle. They worked in mysterious ways and didn't flaunt or advertise the extent of their power.

He also enjoyed watching others' reactions when he revealed his might the moment before disaster struck, but he most certainly wasn't admitting to that. That would simply be unbecoming of a proper wizard.

 

[Gerhold]

So far, Gerhold knew who was the talkative one in their party: Ambroz. The man meant well, he could tell, and it never hurt to be in good spirits most of the time, albeit the hedge knight wasn't certain that all that optimism would last the whole quest. Anyways, he recognized that, given the mage's aged frame and impressive beard, it had survived much more than a scour in the ruins to crumble now.

And for that, he knew his patience would be tested.

As they appeared to agree on their next step, the knight gave a singular nod, rolling the scroll into a small enough shape to fit into one of the many pouches that adorned his armored waist. "Seems like we've decided, then. Let us go to the inn, then. Given the time, it will certainly be empty enough to provide some privacy for our plans."

Gerhold turned around and started to walk, giving no further words for the remainder of the short walk to the inn. Stetinson was a quaint, peaceful town, even as the sun shone brightly on the clear blue skies of the morning. Their odd trio barely stood out among the peasantry and the guards were either too tired or - in some few cases - too drunk to even bat an eye at them. Eventually, they reached the inn in question: The Resting Helmsman. It sat between the lines of luxury and poverty, but it was discreet enough for Gerhold.

Without sharing any insights, he made his way inside. The interior was sparsely populated by some of the town's denizens, having their meals or simply sharing an early drink. The knight simply turned to his right, where a secluded table beckoned them offering the privacy they needed. The man walked over and claimed one of the chairs, setting the map down on the table's wooden surface. "Well, then. Let us plan. We'll need supplies to last us the trip, at the very least, but I believe we won't need much. If needed, I'll forage for extra food along the way. Alternatively, we could always resupply by the camp set up by Campliagi's men. They'll certainly have enough for us to last a scavenging run."

 

[Liam Silvern]

It seemed that Liam was the one in the group lacking a mount of some kind. He was making a guess at that however, although there was some reasoning behind it. The old man had a donkey and the other, Gerhold, was a knight. The ones from Vel Anir never lacked a couple of horses for their use. The man seemed to be in a tough spot at the moment so two was highly unlikely, but him lacking even one would be a huge surprise. That was going to need to be addressed during their planning.

What Ambroz had to say about himself got a bit of a raised brow from Liam. The old man was trying to play at some sort of humble demeanor. It was either that or he had forgotten that Liam knew he had more than a "pinch of magic" at his disposal. Either way, Liam decided to stay silent on it as they traveled to the knight's inn. Whatever ploy was going on he did not feel like breaking currently.

Once they reached the inn and began to plan things out, Liam had to frown a bit. It would seem the knight had thought he meant their travel rations when he mentioned supplies. Best to address that now rather than let the line of thinking continue.

"Food is not important right now. We should study that map and decide how we wish to approach." Liam said in the somewhat stoic and almost trade deal like way he had earlier. It was not his first time to be assaulting a fortified, or at least defensible, position with not nearly enough information nor support. It was starting to feel like his army days again.

"Are we going to attack by day or night as well? With our numbers and the lack of information on what we are facing it would be unwise to engage with brute force." Liam said as he began to think through a few options in his head. "Shall we go over a wall, through one, or under one as well?" His experience during sieges was beginning to play in his head.

Gerhold Abjurer

 

[Abjurer]

Ambroz wasn't wholly inconsiderate. He realized that his companions - Mostly Gerhold, as he had only recently met the man - weren't likely to be appreciative of him prattling on for long periods of time. He was sure he'd be able to convert them both, but not any time soon. In the interim, the wizard elected to make the trip from Emmanuel's residence to the Rested Helmsman in silence.

The inn was much as Ambroz had left it, not that it would've changed any in the short time he had been gone. A solidly average place, existing in the middle ground between being a seedy dive and a luxurious establishment and catering to an equally average clientele. He was glad to see that only a few such clients were inside when they arrived; he had found over his long life that information leaked at a rate proportionate to the amount of eyes and ears present. The three of them didn't have much to hide, Campliagi and his men almost certainly knew of Emmanuel's request, but any surprise they could maintain could only help their cause.

He remained quiet as Gerhold produced a map, electing to study it before he offered his opinion on what their next course of action should be. Consequently, Liam would beat him to being the first to speak up.

"Food is rather important," Ambroz said after the sellsword finished speaking, "If the defenders hole up, food'll swiftly become an important factor. I would propose bringing enough rations for a couple days, in addition for the trip there and back. We can't count on the enemy to provide for us, even if it's probable we can scavenge some of their supplies. Nor can we count on foraging -- given the amount of time they've been holed up there, I wouldn't say it's unlikely the surroundings have been scoured clean or poisoned.

"In regards to our attack, I leave the planning to you two. I have little experience in such matters."

 

[Gerhold]

Gerhold listened intently, fingers intertwined as he propped his chin on the back of his hands. His eyes moved from Malachite to Ambroz to the map - taking a bit longer to study the castle's many levels and rooms - and cautiously scanned the inn, as if looking for any eavesdroppers. Once he judged the place safe enough to lay out his own plans, he waited for Ambroz to be done speaking and brought a hand to his beard, running the armored fingers through the blonde hair in thought.

"Given the scale of their operation, I'm certain we'll find plenty of food in their camp, enough to keep us well-fed through the mission. However, to access that, stands the question of assaulting the place," He paused, gazing at Malachite as if taking on his proposal, "which will be troublesome. We'll have to scout out the place first; this map will help us as we delve deeper, but let us not forget that Amirault was ruined in a prolonged siege. Most of its outer defenses have crumbled, and if I'm to guess, the scavengers have set up camp here." His right finger landed on the castle's courtyard, directly after the main gate. "With the debris, they can easily create shelter. It's unlikely that any of the towers survived, but let us see that when we arrive."

For a brief moment, Gerhold's gaze grew distant. The planning had triggered old memories; visions of old companions, gathered in a war room, hashing out their assault and calculating the duration of a siege. The memoirs were of sour taste, and he pushed the back with a deep breath, intent on preserving his focus.

"Furthermore, there are our enemies. I haven't come into contact with Campliagi's liege, who holds the petty kingdom of Carlia, but their ways of warfare are known. Unless they have undergone a change in their military composition, we shall expect crossbows and thrusting swords. If the investment is considerable, heavy armor, but perhaps we'll only find one guard wearing it." He focused on Malachite now, blue eyes glinting some under the gentle candle light. "A night assault will work best. Scavenging is hard work, and most will be tired by then. I can take the largest entry, if no crossbowmen prove to be an immediate danger. My armor'll prove to be helpful unless they have maces in hand."

 

[Liam Silvern]

"A week's worth of rations is not difficult to carry. That is just fourteen hard tacks and several waterskins we can refill from a local stream." Liam responded as if everyone went so pragmatically into food preparations. He very much knew most didn't. His wife hated hard tacks and travel rations in general. But he wasn't as concerned with their feelings as he would be if his wife was here.

Looking over the map, Liam began to try to figure out where someone might assault the castle from the outside. Any weak points to exploit. That would be where the damage would be the most serious. There also was a chance the entire thing had been stripped down to heavily discourage someone from trying to repair it. He had seen that tactic taken a couple of times. It was extreme but not as bad as genocide.

Gerhold began to speak now and seemed to be of a similar mindset as Liam on their approach. He began to speak of equipment they could approach. If these men were similar in their funding to Liam then the knight's assessment was probably correct. It might be best to flank the camp at night, but they would need twice their numbers at least to do that. He frowned a bit. Their size was limiting their options here. Caution was the highest priority now.

"Crossbows will not be an issue in the dark. Not until we enter the light of their fires. We sneak up on their guards and silently slight their throats. Once they drop we can move on from there." Liam said. He began to look over the map again. Where would they set up a watch point at? Without knowing which parts of the castle were still up it was impossible to say. He frowned a bit again. He didn't like this. He needed to return to his wife alive and in one piece. Why did he agree to this job?

Abjurer

 

[Abjurer]

Ambroz ran a hand through his beard, studying the map and considering the options they had available. Swordsmen and crossbowmen were not the most insurmountable problems, but they certainly weren't the easiest to deal with either. A frontal assault was out -- Only Gerhold was sufficiently armored and they hadn't the numbers anyway. Infiltration was likewise out. It would take too long and carried too many risks. Subterfuge, as Liam Silvern suggested, had potential. If they were expeditious, they could storm the camp at night and take it before any were aware. Alas, it was too risky without informati--

Ambroz's hand froze midway down his beard. Inspiration had struck.

"I think Liam's suggestion best," Ambroz said, "It's dicey, withou' knowledge of the castle's current condition and the lay of the camp, but I can be a'assistance in that regard. Among m'repertoire are some scryin' spells. Moderate cost, and I'll only be gettin' a birds-eye view a'th'place, but it should be sufficient for our purposes."

Indeed, Ambroz thought, he was a dunce for not having thought of it earlier. Scrying should've been his first recourse upon learning about Castle Amirault. Old age must finally be catching up with him. In any case, the 'moderate cost' was a bit more than he let on. He'd be sightless for an hour or more, afterwards. Added to the time it would take to gather the necessary reagents and perform the ritual, he would barely be regaining his sight by dawn. It was unlikely anything eventful would happen during that time, but it was possible. Perhaps Campliagi had sent adventurers of his own to preemptively deal with any threats to his operation in Castle Amirault.

 

[Bronmaen Greatbelt]

Two entered The Resting Helmsman by way of the front door. One of them they all knew as it was the same servant who had greeted them all at the estate not more than an hour past and then led them to Emmanuel. The other figure was too short and too broad to be a man. The other one could only be a dwarf. The dwarf was dressed in traveling clothes though he was wearing a black charcoal gray gambeson. What he wore under the padding could not be seen but the remainder of his garb consisted of black harem pants, a black ring belt, and heavy leather boots. In the left boot was a sheathed blade and at the left side of his belt was a dwarven waraxe held in place by a steel ring.

The black waxed wool fur lined hood he wore covered his face down to his nose over which an old scar bridged. His auburn beard was braided and decorated but without expensive gold or silver trinkets that most dwarves displayed. His was tied with leather strips, dyed red. When the two came in the dwarf stopped at the door and the servant pointed at the table at which the hedge knight, the sellsword, and the wizard sat. At that very moment the man behind the bar came around the counter between where the table was and the door where the dwarf stood. The two shook hands and exchanged greeting as if they knew each other. Then they spoke quietly for a moment before the tender nodded. The dwarf patted the man's shoulder with his left hand, a hand missing the ring finger. He then motioned over to the table that the party sat at with his other hand. The tender bowed, nodded, and then vanished into the kitchen.

The servant led the way to the table, the dwarf trailing at the servants left side. When he finally approached he raised his hands and pulled back his hood. The dwarf's face was scarred. In addition to the old cut across his nose one cut deep down across his left eye. Whoever made the cut had been a hair's breadth from taking the dwarf's eye but through luck or skill he had managed to keep it. He was not a young dwarf but not ancient for his race. Certainly he was past middle-aged as gray had started to mix in with his auburn locks to run around his braids like silver veins through red marble. No doubt he had seen more winters than even the most ancient man, least their life was extended through unnatural means. Bushy eyebrows sat above deep set steel colored eyes.

"May I introduce Batan Anvilshield," said the servant. The dwarf gave a shallow bow. To be fair it was more of a nod. The servant would hand over a sealed scroll with Emmanuel's mark to any of the three that would take it and then say each of the others' names to the dwarf to finish introductions. The message was short and to the point. It only alluded to the fact that the dwarf, named Batan Anvilshield was to accompany them. The servant would bow to them, bow to the dwarf, and then vanish out of the inn through the front door.

Batan approached the table then and examined the map though he didn't sit. "Pardon my late arrival if you'd be so kind."

 

[Gerhold]

Gerhold remained silent as the other two gave in their suggestions, blue eyes deeply focused on his partners. Every now and then, he'd allow his eyes to wander: they'd search around the room for any 'odd' types, eavesdroppers, belligerent drunkards and curious patrons. Thankfully, this far into the day, there seemed to be none of these in the interior, and he relaxed for a moment. There was a hint of paranoia in his demeanor, albeit it could be picked up by observant eyes and sharp minds. Composed as he was, it seemed as if something haunted this man's mind.

With Ambroz' idea, however, the knight returned to the discussion. Scrying... he wasn't a connoisseur of magic, though he had heard of such a spell. The side effects were rather terrifying, but temporary, and as long as it served them a purpose - and if the old man was willing to blind himself for a couple of hours - Gerhold had no qualms with it. It had even given him a better, clearer idea of their assault.

"I've heard reports of the siege that put Amirault out of commission. Nothing too concrete, but detailed enough." He paused, bringing an armored finger to the map before them. "Most of the castle's outer reaches were leveled by incessant trebuchet fire, reducing most of the towers and the taller walls to rubble. Aside from that, the barracks and most of the living quarters were terribly shelled." His fingers glided over, drawing imaginary crosses on the mentioned structures. "Campliagi's men won't have much of a roof to hide under, so scrying will serve us just right."

He scratched his beard, eyes narrowing in thought before looking at Malachite. "Do you have any proficiency with a bow? If so, we can dispatch any scouts from a distance, cut out their ranged capabilities. As soon as they're eliminated, I'll raid their camp as swiftly as possible. If we are to attack in the wee hours of the night, most will be exhausted and asleep; without their lookouts, a hard strike'll shatter their morale and make the fight considerably less tough, given our disadvantage in numbers."

Just as he finished, a broad-framed yet short man approached the table, guided by the familiar face of the servant who had welcomed them earlier. Gerhold frowned, confused. Another sellsword? Wasn't Malachite's bargain too expensive for Emmanuel, already? One way or the other, this 'Batan Anvilshield' - a distinctly dwarven name, confirming the hooded figure's origins - was to join them... and the knight couldn't care less. He carried an axe: a partner to aid him in the raid directly would serve him well.

He just wasn't sure if the payment being split even further would sit well with Malachite. Gerhold threw him a side-eye, trying to gauge his reaction, but ultimately focused on the new comer. All he could muster was a monotone, "Well, greetings."

Abjurer Liam Silvern Bronmaen Greatbelt

 

[Liam Silvern]

The old wizard was willy. Liam had to give Abjurer credit for that. The mention of scrying to get an idea of a top down lay out at least would be vital. The more information they could gather before their assault began the better. It also seemed to be even more appealing of an option as Gerhold had some familiarity with the siege that took the castle. From what he said it was definitely a smash job. Whoever took the place didn't want it being used again. That was good for them. There was no chance the men they were after would be putting up any kind of outward defenses if they wanted to keep things somewhat subtle and secret.

The question and follow up about Liam's proficiency with a bow was not going to have the kind of answer he knew the knight wanted to hear. But it was better to address it now than once things began.

"My bow skills are passable. No marksman. Better with my blades than it." Liam responded in that stoic way they would be becoming familiar with by now.

Their gathering was near immediately interrupted after however as the servant from before along with a short yet stocky hooded figure approached their table. This got a raised brow from Liam. His silent question was answered as it was revealed the newcomer was to be joining them. Three was now four. It helped with part of the numbers issue, but would cut into people's rewards. Not that it mattered for Liam by this point. His payment was not going to be in coin but in other forms already agreed upon. The deal was already made. It was too late for his share to be reduced that much now no matter how many joined their party.

All the knight would notice from Liam was more of the stoic near apathetic demeanor he had been having the entire time. After the man made his greeting to the dwarf, Liam decided it would be best to get the newcomer caught up and figure out what they offer to the effort.

"Skills and preferences for combat." Liam said looking at the dwarf. "Any experience with night fighting or fighting in close quarters?"

Bronmaen Greatbelt

 

[Abjurer]

Ambroz was about to respond to Gerhold when the hooded figure approached, escorted by the same servant that had escorted him to Emmanuel earlier. Good. That meant the hooded figure wasn't here to muck up his, or the party's, day. Ambroz still slipped a hand into the sleeve of his robe, fingering a small runic inscription located therein. It was possible that the servant was in on a plot to stop Emmanuel's request from being seen to completion. It would be odd that he wouldn't have acted earlier, but weirder things had happened.

He relaxed after the hooded figure, a dwarf based on the name, was introduced and the servant departed, both without attempting spontaneous homicide.

The party Emmanuel had assembled, at what appeared to be a rapidly increasing cost, had grown even more traditional, he noted with amusement. They numbered a knight, a roguish type, a wizard, and now a dwarf. Only the lack of a cleric of some sort was preventing them from becoming a full five-man band. Hilarious. The world appeared to be conforming to archetypes -- or maybe the archetypes were modeled after the world's patterns?

Ambroz shook his head, dismissing his errant thoughts. The middle of a war council was most certainly not the time for metaphysical musings. There were more important things to focus on, like Gerhold's proposed night raid. It seemed a good bet, especially if Malachite could eliminate hostile scouts at a distance. The low visibility would help even the inequality in numbers and the timing would mean he would have his sight back by the time of the assault. Not that sight was necessary to throw out abjurations, but companions tended to prefer when said abjurations were cast on them instead of the enemy. He felt like he was forgetting something, though. But what? The plan was soli -- Ah!

"Ah," the wizard said, turning to Bronmaen Greatbelt , "Greetings. We were jus' discussing our plans for the job." He had forgotten to greet the dwarf. How rude.

Liam Silvern