Blog: Big Small Worlds
Owner: Padre
Author: padremack
Post: Recompense
The Town of Scozzese, south of the city of Pavona. Summer, IC 2405.
The people of Scozzese did not know what to make of events. The town had had a renaissance of sorts, growing more healthy and prosperous than ever since Lord Silvano had assumed the powers of regent upon his father, the duke’s, infirmity. Indeed, the whole realm of Pavona was recovering from its time of troubles, and the people felt safe once more. So much so, that the young lord had marched north with the army to join the alliance force intent on defeating the wicked uomini ratto long before their claws reached his realm. Before he left, he had retaken Astiano, garrisoning the town with Pavonan soldiers to ensure its own recovery, thus bolstering the realm’s defences to the west. And, by way of his heartfelt apology for crimes past, he had famously healed the rift between Verezzo and Pavona, so that the south no longer presented a threat.
Yet now, the army of Verezzo was at their doorstep, manoeuvring aggressively, clearly in the process of blockading the town.
So it was that the two leading members of the town’s signoria, Barone Plutarco Recchia and Rainaldo Gambale, found themselves, accompanied by the town militia’s Portastandardo and a handful of guards, making their way somewhat nervously to parley with the unexpected visitors.
One of two halberdiers walking behind the standard, Umile Giuliani, had been wearing a worried look upon his face (not unlike many in the town).
“I don’t get it,” he said quietly, so that only his friend Petronio would hear. “I thought everything was settled between Pavona and Verezzo.”
“I doubt,” said Petronio, “that anyone thought the old animosity was gone for good, especially considering the way Lord Lucca died. But yes, Umi, it really did look like a new leaf had been turned over. Lord Silvano himself must have thought so, for why else would he march away with the army? He wouldn’t have done that if he thought the Verezzans were still a threat.”
“Wouldn’t he?” asked Umile, glancing nervously about, to make sure those in front and behind were not listening. “He spent the last two years haring off to distant wars with ne’er a care for what was happening in Pavona.”
“Maybe so, but that was when his father was well. He returned quick enough when the duke was wounded. And stayed until the realm seemed to be on the mend again.”
“Well,” said Umile, “things have taken a turn for the worse now.”
“It does appear so,” said Petronio. “You know, Umi, I think Lord Silvano was played.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, all that talking, the letters and meetings, the demands for trials and apologies – I think the Verezzans were spinning out time.”
“So they could grow their army?”
“Yes,” agreed Petriono. Glancing ahead, he added, “And we’re about find out for certain.”
“Aye, but even if that’s what they were up to, they gave us time as well, to repair our army and nurse the realm to health. What would they really gain if our army also grew in strength?”
“Our army isn’t here, though, is it?” explained Petronio. “Nor at the city, from where it could strike at them now. They didn’t just buy time to build their army by talking long enough, they used those same words to convince Lord Alessio to drop his guard.
Umile pondered this. “But they’ve sent some of their own soldiers to join the alliance army in Trantio, alongside Lord Silvano? Is that not the act of allies?”
“It would appear to be, aye,” answered Petronio. “But it could also be further proof of their cunning. Another deception; another way to lure us into a false sense of security. They probably, and rightly, knew that merely accepting an apology would not be enough to convince us that they were true friends once more. If their soldiers are serving beside ours however, facing terrible foes together, then it really makes them look like friends.”
The two fell silent for a moment, as the standard bearer ahead had slowed his pace somewhat and the gap narrowed between them. When he picked up the pace again, Umile spoke,
“You know, I always thought it odd that an apology was all that was needed to recompense for the killing of their beloved lord.”
“Oh, they asked for more than an apology,” said Petronio.
“They did?”
“I heard they sent a letter a month ago demanding we pay in gold as compensation for all that was looted from Spomanti.”
“Ha,” laughed Umile, still nervously quiet. “I knew an apology alone would not satisfy them. Did we pay, then? Or just promise to do so?”
“Neither. The duke’s council answered that what with Silvano being away, and there being a war on, with rats threatening the whole of Tilea, we should leave discussing such matters until the proper time. At least, that’s what I heard.”
“Sounds about right,” said Umile. Then asked, “Remember those goblins that came two years ago?”
“I’m hardly likely to forget as I was in the company that went out to speak to them. I can remember the smell.”
“Well, we bribed them to leave us be, and they did.” continued Umile. “D’you think that’ll work with the Verezzans?”
“Possibly? But maybe what they really want is bloody revenge, and any gold they plunder is just an added boon.”
“It’s never-ending war,” said Umile. “Just one thing after …” His voice trailed off as they caught sight of the Verezzan army. “Morr protect us!” he exclaimed.
“Now and hereafter,” added Petriono, by habit.
Either the nobles’ stride was unfaltering, or they hid it well, but the barone and Signore Rainaldo walked straight up to the knot of officers, halflings all, standing before their army, then halted several yards away – just close enough to speak.
The foremost fellow was surely the Barone Iacopo, cloaked and confident as he was. Immediately next to him had to be the bane of Pavona, the brigand Pettirosso, sporting a hunter’s cap and clutching a bow. Two little wizards stood upon Iacopo’s other side, while behind were a musician and two standard bearers, one of whom carried a large club upon his shoulder. Or, perhaps, an ordinary sized club, that merely looked large in contrast to its bearer.
There were plenty of halflings in the army behind them too, but not all, what with a large regiment of mounted men at arms and a massive regiment of pikemen atop the slope behind. The rest, nearly all halflings, seemed almost exclusively armed with bows or crossbows, although one company carried half-pikes, presumably for want of strength to wield the full weapon.
As the nobles and officers engaged in apparently polite greetings and introductions, Umile cast his eyes over each body among the army, starting with the nearest and most threatening – the mounted knights.
Like the rest of the army, they were liveried in the same blue and yellow as their guidon, with touches of vermillion – in their case in the form of panache-feathers, silken scarves and their lances. Most rode armoured mounts, while all were themselves in polished steel from head to toe, bar one of two who had removed their helmets.
Umile had seen the mounted nobility of Pavona, riding with the duke or his son, and a glorious sight they had been. But they had not been as numerous as these Verezzans. He cursed himself for falling for the tales that Verezzo was populated by halflings and peasants, with only a handful of foppish lords to govern them. He should have known that such claims were tainted by prejudice and unlikely to bear resemblance to the true state of affairs.
Their commander, his own horse in lacquered armour, a velvet hat upon his broad bearded head, looked as noble as Duke Guidobaldo in his heyday. Umile wondered if the man was related to the murdered Lord Lucca, and at that moment seemed to spy hatred writ upon the man’s face.
The pike regiments, like big brother and little brother …
… behind and above the horsemen, proved that Verezzo had no shortage of soldiers to call upon, although the men themselves, despite carrying a large Verezzan standard, were likely to be mercenaries, as they were garbed in particoloured cloth of every hue.
The halfling companies on the wings were both archers, one carrying bows …
…the other crossbows …
– the former being the size of ordinary bows for men, the latter being the kind of light crossbows that mounted men might carry, presumably as the halflings would struggle to span anything larger.
Despite these deficiencies, Umile knew that the halflings had a reputation for mastery in archery, being true toxophilites, that is, great shots. What their arrows and quarrels lacked in punching power, they made up for in accuracy. What difference did it make if an arrow into an eye failed to pierce all the way through the skull? Just a few inches was sufficient to pierce the brain and kill!
The Verezzans had brought machines of war too. Umile had heard that Captain Pandolfo’s famous light guns served Barone Iacopo, and now he knew the rumours were true.
Looking up at them, beside the halfling pikes, he saw they sported their own green and red livery. He presumed that the armoured fellow in their midst was Pandolfo himself.
They had also brought some more archaic engines of war, being bolt throwers, which they hauled in large wagons, the accompanying master-engineers bearing long, fletched bolts like staffs of office.
Snapping out of awe-full reverie, Umile turned his attention to what the gentlemen and lords were saying, suddenly aware that Petriono was already transfixed by the conversation. No wonder the fellow is a font of all rumours, he thought. He must listen to everything that is said about him as he goes about his duties as a guard.
The Pettirosso was speaking, his voice somehow both shrill and imposing at one and the same time.
“I saw it with mine own eyes. Cut down in battle for nothing more than defending his own people from vile plunderers. I care not for the lies spoken afterwards, nor for the attempted trickeries and obfuscations. It was murder and theft, most plain, and I have dedicated myself to vengeance ever since.”
Petriono glanced at Umile. Everyone knew how far the Pettirosso had taken his vengeance, for the duke’s court had declared that it was he who had attempted to assassinate Duke Guidobaldo, and with a poisoned arrow no less. Here the fellow seemed to be bragging about it!
“What was done to my Lord Lucca,” said Barone Iacopo, “was as unforgivable as it was foul.”
And yet, thought Umile, apologies were made and apparently accepted.
“I cannot speak for the duke, or his son who rules, for now, in his stead,” said Barone Recchia, apparently unwilling to chat about Duke Guidobaldo’s past actions. “But I can pass on all you say, and we are permitted certain powers here in our own town.”
“Then listen carefully,” ordered the Verezzan barone. “Your lord may have begged forgiveness for Lord Lucca’s murder, and we may well have been persuaded to believe his excuses, but there is still the matter of compensation for that which was looted at the same time. I think it only fair that gold and silver should be paid to the exact value of that which was taken.”
“By rights,” interrupted one of the wizards behind the barone. “Pavona should pay more, a further penalty as punishment for the many crimes committed that day, the worst being the murder of our enlightened lord.”
Barone Iacopo showed no surprise at the wizard’s outburst, and Umile wondered if such rudeness were to be expected of those who were mad enough to dabble in magic.
“Yet I make no such demand,” said the barone with a smile. “Only that coin to the value of all goods and monies looted be paid to us, accurate to a silver grossi. We have drawn up accounts for your perusal.”
“Such a thing,” stuttered Barone Recchia, “is beyond my ability to give.”
“We do not have the means, nor the authority …” added Signore Rainaldo, apparently unable to finish his thought.
“Then you had better find them, and quick, for if we are not paid the full amount within six days, then we intend to take it from your town, by force, in a manner exactly akin to your own soldiers’ behaviour in Spomanti.”
“A tooth for a tooth,” added the brigand chief. “Entirely fair, and proportionate.”
The Pavonan nobles were lost for words, but the halfling wizard seemed happy to fill the silence.
“In every way a balancing of both accounts and deeds.”
Umile sensed their full meaning, for there had already been a balancing beyond that which they were demanding here – the attempt to assassinate Duke Guidobaldo, to atone for the death of Lord Lucca. The brigand chief should have said ‘a life for a life’, if he were being wholly honest.
Suddenly, it occurred to Umile – Duke Guidobaldo was not dead. Grievously wounded, yes, and incapacitated, but not dead. If the Verezzans meant everything they said, then even the payment of this monetary fine would not fully settle the account, and the hostilities could continue until the duke were dead.
“Six days?” exclaimed Signore Rainaldo. “Surely, you cannot expect us to comply so soon? It is insufficient notice. We need more time.”
“Notice has been given, by way of a letter, delivered to the city weeks ago,” said Barone Iacopo. “Pavona has had time. Now you have plenty of time to send word to the city, and for the monies to be delivered here.”
Yet nowhere near enough time, thought Umile, for Lord Silvano to return from Trantio with the army. Petriono was right, Lord Silvano and Pavona had been played.
“Let us hope,” added the Pettirosso, gravely, “that the council in Pavona love Scozzese enough to pay promptly. For if not, then there will be no Scozzese to love.”
Continue reading on the Big Small Worlds blog
Owner: Padre
Author: padremack
Post: Recompense
The Town of Scozzese, south of the city of Pavona. Summer, IC 2405.
The people of Scozzese did not know what to make of events. The town had had a renaissance of sorts, growing more healthy and prosperous than ever since Lord Silvano had assumed the powers of regent upon his father, the duke’s, infirmity. Indeed, the whole realm of Pavona was recovering from its time of troubles, and the people felt safe once more. So much so, that the young lord had marched north with the army to join the alliance force intent on defeating the wicked uomini ratto long before their claws reached his realm. Before he left, he had retaken Astiano, garrisoning the town with Pavonan soldiers to ensure its own recovery, thus bolstering the realm’s defences to the west. And, by way of his heartfelt apology for crimes past, he had famously healed the rift between Verezzo and Pavona, so that the south no longer presented a threat.
Yet now, the army of Verezzo was at their doorstep, manoeuvring aggressively, clearly in the process of blockading the town.
So it was that the two leading members of the town’s signoria, Barone Plutarco Recchia and Rainaldo Gambale, found themselves, accompanied by the town militia’s Portastandardo and a handful of guards, making their way somewhat nervously to parley with the unexpected visitors.
One of two halberdiers walking behind the standard, Umile Giuliani, had been wearing a worried look upon his face (not unlike many in the town).
“I don’t get it,” he said quietly, so that only his friend Petronio would hear. “I thought everything was settled between Pavona and Verezzo.”
“I doubt,” said Petronio, “that anyone thought the old animosity was gone for good, especially considering the way Lord Lucca died. But yes, Umi, it really did look like a new leaf had been turned over. Lord Silvano himself must have thought so, for why else would he march away with the army? He wouldn’t have done that if he thought the Verezzans were still a threat.”
“Wouldn’t he?” asked Umile, glancing nervously about, to make sure those in front and behind were not listening. “He spent the last two years haring off to distant wars with ne’er a care for what was happening in Pavona.”
“Maybe so, but that was when his father was well. He returned quick enough when the duke was wounded. And stayed until the realm seemed to be on the mend again.”
“Well,” said Umile, “things have taken a turn for the worse now.”
“It does appear so,” said Petronio. “You know, Umi, I think Lord Silvano was played.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, all that talking, the letters and meetings, the demands for trials and apologies – I think the Verezzans were spinning out time.”
“So they could grow their army?”
“Yes,” agreed Petriono. Glancing ahead, he added, “And we’re about find out for certain.”
“Aye, but even if that’s what they were up to, they gave us time as well, to repair our army and nurse the realm to health. What would they really gain if our army also grew in strength?”
“Our army isn’t here, though, is it?” explained Petronio. “Nor at the city, from where it could strike at them now. They didn’t just buy time to build their army by talking long enough, they used those same words to convince Lord Alessio to drop his guard.
Umile pondered this. “But they’ve sent some of their own soldiers to join the alliance army in Trantio, alongside Lord Silvano? Is that not the act of allies?”
“It would appear to be, aye,” answered Petronio. “But it could also be further proof of their cunning. Another deception; another way to lure us into a false sense of security. They probably, and rightly, knew that merely accepting an apology would not be enough to convince us that they were true friends once more. If their soldiers are serving beside ours however, facing terrible foes together, then it really makes them look like friends.”
The two fell silent for a moment, as the standard bearer ahead had slowed his pace somewhat and the gap narrowed between them. When he picked up the pace again, Umile spoke,
“You know, I always thought it odd that an apology was all that was needed to recompense for the killing of their beloved lord.”
“Oh, they asked for more than an apology,” said Petronio.
“They did?”
“I heard they sent a letter a month ago demanding we pay in gold as compensation for all that was looted from Spomanti.”
“Ha,” laughed Umile, still nervously quiet. “I knew an apology alone would not satisfy them. Did we pay, then? Or just promise to do so?”
“Neither. The duke’s council answered that what with Silvano being away, and there being a war on, with rats threatening the whole of Tilea, we should leave discussing such matters until the proper time. At least, that’s what I heard.”
“Sounds about right,” said Umile. Then asked, “Remember those goblins that came two years ago?”
“I’m hardly likely to forget as I was in the company that went out to speak to them. I can remember the smell.”
“Well, we bribed them to leave us be, and they did.” continued Umile. “D’you think that’ll work with the Verezzans?”
“Possibly? But maybe what they really want is bloody revenge, and any gold they plunder is just an added boon.”
“It’s never-ending war,” said Umile. “Just one thing after …” His voice trailed off as they caught sight of the Verezzan army. “Morr protect us!” he exclaimed.
“Now and hereafter,” added Petriono, by habit.
Either the nobles’ stride was unfaltering, or they hid it well, but the barone and Signore Rainaldo walked straight up to the knot of officers, halflings all, standing before their army, then halted several yards away – just close enough to speak.
The foremost fellow was surely the Barone Iacopo, cloaked and confident as he was. Immediately next to him had to be the bane of Pavona, the brigand Pettirosso, sporting a hunter’s cap and clutching a bow. Two little wizards stood upon Iacopo’s other side, while behind were a musician and two standard bearers, one of whom carried a large club upon his shoulder. Or, perhaps, an ordinary sized club, that merely looked large in contrast to its bearer.
There were plenty of halflings in the army behind them too, but not all, what with a large regiment of mounted men at arms and a massive regiment of pikemen atop the slope behind. The rest, nearly all halflings, seemed almost exclusively armed with bows or crossbows, although one company carried half-pikes, presumably for want of strength to wield the full weapon.
As the nobles and officers engaged in apparently polite greetings and introductions, Umile cast his eyes over each body among the army, starting with the nearest and most threatening – the mounted knights.
Like the rest of the army, they were liveried in the same blue and yellow as their guidon, with touches of vermillion – in their case in the form of panache-feathers, silken scarves and their lances. Most rode armoured mounts, while all were themselves in polished steel from head to toe, bar one of two who had removed their helmets.
Umile had seen the mounted nobility of Pavona, riding with the duke or his son, and a glorious sight they had been. But they had not been as numerous as these Verezzans. He cursed himself for falling for the tales that Verezzo was populated by halflings and peasants, with only a handful of foppish lords to govern them. He should have known that such claims were tainted by prejudice and unlikely to bear resemblance to the true state of affairs.
Their commander, his own horse in lacquered armour, a velvet hat upon his broad bearded head, looked as noble as Duke Guidobaldo in his heyday. Umile wondered if the man was related to the murdered Lord Lucca, and at that moment seemed to spy hatred writ upon the man’s face.
The pike regiments, like big brother and little brother …
… behind and above the horsemen, proved that Verezzo had no shortage of soldiers to call upon, although the men themselves, despite carrying a large Verezzan standard, were likely to be mercenaries, as they were garbed in particoloured cloth of every hue.
The halfling companies on the wings were both archers, one carrying bows …
…the other crossbows …
– the former being the size of ordinary bows for men, the latter being the kind of light crossbows that mounted men might carry, presumably as the halflings would struggle to span anything larger.
Despite these deficiencies, Umile knew that the halflings had a reputation for mastery in archery, being true toxophilites, that is, great shots. What their arrows and quarrels lacked in punching power, they made up for in accuracy. What difference did it make if an arrow into an eye failed to pierce all the way through the skull? Just a few inches was sufficient to pierce the brain and kill!
The Verezzans had brought machines of war too. Umile had heard that Captain Pandolfo’s famous light guns served Barone Iacopo, and now he knew the rumours were true.
Looking up at them, beside the halfling pikes, he saw they sported their own green and red livery. He presumed that the armoured fellow in their midst was Pandolfo himself.
They had also brought some more archaic engines of war, being bolt throwers, which they hauled in large wagons, the accompanying master-engineers bearing long, fletched bolts like staffs of office.
Snapping out of awe-full reverie, Umile turned his attention to what the gentlemen and lords were saying, suddenly aware that Petriono was already transfixed by the conversation. No wonder the fellow is a font of all rumours, he thought. He must listen to everything that is said about him as he goes about his duties as a guard.
The Pettirosso was speaking, his voice somehow both shrill and imposing at one and the same time.
“I saw it with mine own eyes. Cut down in battle for nothing more than defending his own people from vile plunderers. I care not for the lies spoken afterwards, nor for the attempted trickeries and obfuscations. It was murder and theft, most plain, and I have dedicated myself to vengeance ever since.”
Petriono glanced at Umile. Everyone knew how far the Pettirosso had taken his vengeance, for the duke’s court had declared that it was he who had attempted to assassinate Duke Guidobaldo, and with a poisoned arrow no less. Here the fellow seemed to be bragging about it!
“What was done to my Lord Lucca,” said Barone Iacopo, “was as unforgivable as it was foul.”
And yet, thought Umile, apologies were made and apparently accepted.
“I cannot speak for the duke, or his son who rules, for now, in his stead,” said Barone Recchia, apparently unwilling to chat about Duke Guidobaldo’s past actions. “But I can pass on all you say, and we are permitted certain powers here in our own town.”
“Then listen carefully,” ordered the Verezzan barone. “Your lord may have begged forgiveness for Lord Lucca’s murder, and we may well have been persuaded to believe his excuses, but there is still the matter of compensation for that which was looted at the same time. I think it only fair that gold and silver should be paid to the exact value of that which was taken.”
“By rights,” interrupted one of the wizards behind the barone. “Pavona should pay more, a further penalty as punishment for the many crimes committed that day, the worst being the murder of our enlightened lord.”
Barone Iacopo showed no surprise at the wizard’s outburst, and Umile wondered if such rudeness were to be expected of those who were mad enough to dabble in magic.
“Yet I make no such demand,” said the barone with a smile. “Only that coin to the value of all goods and monies looted be paid to us, accurate to a silver grossi. We have drawn up accounts for your perusal.”
“Such a thing,” stuttered Barone Recchia, “is beyond my ability to give.”
“We do not have the means, nor the authority …” added Signore Rainaldo, apparently unable to finish his thought.
“Then you had better find them, and quick, for if we are not paid the full amount within six days, then we intend to take it from your town, by force, in a manner exactly akin to your own soldiers’ behaviour in Spomanti.”
“A tooth for a tooth,” added the brigand chief. “Entirely fair, and proportionate.”
The Pavonan nobles were lost for words, but the halfling wizard seemed happy to fill the silence.
“In every way a balancing of both accounts and deeds.”
Umile sensed their full meaning, for there had already been a balancing beyond that which they were demanding here – the attempt to assassinate Duke Guidobaldo, to atone for the death of Lord Lucca. The brigand chief should have said ‘a life for a life’, if he were being wholly honest.
Suddenly, it occurred to Umile – Duke Guidobaldo was not dead. Grievously wounded, yes, and incapacitated, but not dead. If the Verezzans meant everything they said, then even the payment of this monetary fine would not fully settle the account, and the hostilities could continue until the duke were dead.
“Six days?” exclaimed Signore Rainaldo. “Surely, you cannot expect us to comply so soon? It is insufficient notice. We need more time.”
“Notice has been given, by way of a letter, delivered to the city weeks ago,” said Barone Iacopo. “Pavona has had time. Now you have plenty of time to send word to the city, and for the monies to be delivered here.”
Yet nowhere near enough time, thought Umile, for Lord Silvano to return from Trantio with the army. Petriono was right, Lord Silvano and Pavona had been played.
“Let us hope,” added the Pettirosso, gravely, “that the council in Pavona love Scozzese enough to pay promptly. For if not, then there will be no Scozzese to love.”
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