![[misc_banner_2.webp]] `Apr. 22, 2025` · [[Horseapple]] · #Fragment #Misc #DLC > [!caution]- (*Note*: these DLC files are highly edited; lacking all audio and visuals. For complete versions, purchase DLC from Steam) > This transcript lacks the audio voice-over, as well as the accompanying images. Also, this story has been dissected for all of its lore and worldly implications — there are notes littering this story too, which can make experiencing the Asaios’ journey a bit jarring. To experience the full un-edited *Digital Companion*; with audio and visuals, *click* [here](https://store.steampowered.com/app/2240110/Mount__Blade_II_Bannerlord_Digital_Companion/), and purchase the `DLC` on Steam. # Introduction This is the journal of [[Asaios]] son of [[Valicos-the-Older]], scribe of [[Vostrum]]. I am keeping it because, for the first time in my 22 years, I am on the verge of doing something that might interest a reader. For the last two years, nearly every day has been the same. I go early in the morning to the fountain near the law courts here in [[Vostrum]], buy some dried figs, salted bread and oil for my breakfast, and set out my little table on the marble steps. For the next eight hours, until sundown, I help illiterate farmers and workmen draw up their legal petitions, charging two denars a page. After the sun sets, I go over to the tavern and buy a bowl of stew and a jug of watered-down wine and drink with my fellow scribes, then climb the stairs to the room where I pay a half-denar a night to lay out my bedroll. Nine out of every ten petitions I draft are inheritance disputes. If you like, I can draw you a map from memory of a half-dozen villages around here that I have never seen, and label every irrigation ditch, oak tree, and rocky outcrop that is used as a landmark to describe the division of fields. Very often such disputes pit brother against brother, and I suppose that is why, a decade ago, my father decided that our family's entire farm in Amycon village (**in the [[Southern-Empire]]**) would eventually be inherited by my older brother, Valicos son of Valicos. My significantly less valuable share of the inheritance, given in advance, was my education. That got me work as a marketplace scribe, which is hardly how I dreamed of spending my youth. But I make slightly more than I spend, and perhaps one day I can fulfil my parents' dream of returning to Amycon and taking a wife. I did do one somewhat unusual thing about a year ago. This was the beginning of my stay in [[Vostrum]], before the Emperor [[Arenicos]] died. On the recommendation of a fellow scribe, I wrote an informant's report for the [[Bureau-of-Barbarian-Affairs]]. Many have heard of this organization but have only a vague idea of what it did. The Bureau was originally established to monitor the tribes and kingdoms on our borders - their military strength, their leading personalities, their internal rivalries - in a way that would allow the [[Calradian-Empire]] to keep them divided and subjugated. But the Bureau proved so good at its job that they were tasked with keeping an eye on the Empire's internal politics as well. They had informants across the Empire - merchants, scribes, wanderers, noblemen's tutors, anyone with the ability to notice things and the desire to make a few denars on the side - who they commissioned to write reports. My friend recommended me to the Bureau as someone who spoke to a lot of farmers. At the time, the general [[Characters/Bannerlord/Imperials/Garios]] [[Comnos]] was going about the west of the Empire, loudly demanding that state land be distributed to his veterans. The Bureau wanted to know how his demands might be received around [[Vostrum]]. I wrote up a brief summary of what my clients told me, saying that few farmers had heard of [[Characters/Bannerlord/Imperials/Garios]] and those who had, though they certainly would not turn down their nose at state land, seemed suspicious of his ambitions. But really I could not tell how they would react to him if they learned more. For this, I received a fee of 100 denars, and a response from one [[Istiana]], apparently some sort of high official in the Bureau, who thanked me for my honesty. Many correspondents, she said, would talk only to their family's tenants and report back that all the peasants were happy and grateful to the Emperor for all his blessings. Or worse, they would invent plots and rumors and impending revolts in the hope that this would get them more assignments. She said she was glad that my report was a bit muddled. This meant I was truthful, and she might commission more reports from me in the future. But two months after that [[Arenicos]] died, and the [[Calradian-Empire]] fragmented, and I assumed that my hopes of a side career in intelligence work had been shattered along with it. So I was surprised when, a week ago, a peddler stumbled into the tavern one evening, sat down next to me, ordered a drink, then nonchalantly passed me a scroll sealed with the Bureau's emblem, a shepherd's staff and sling. It was from [[Istiana]]. She apologized that she had not contacted me in the last year, as the Bureau had indeed ceased its normal operations, with its officials all going off to find work with one faction or the other. But she needed **"for the sake of the public interest"** to revive her network of informants, both in the Empire and in the outer kingdoms, and thus she needed an agent to go and visit them and check up on their circumstances. Should I accept this work, she wrote, I should travel first to [[Husn Fulq]], in the [[Aserai-Sultanate]] Sultanate, to visit one [[Yatheb]] son of Bisr, a charcoal burner, who would await me in the 'Inn of the Brass Key'. In each town she would leave a purse of 100 denars and instructions on where to go next. I intend to accept. I really have very little idea of her intentions, whether she backs [[Characters/Bannerlord/Imperials/Garios]] [[Comnos]] or [[Characters/Bannerlord/Imperials/Rhagaea]] [[Pethros]] or [[Characters/Bannerlord/Imperials/Lucon]] [[Osticos]] or has her own schemes. But I suppose I feel that someone who likes me, and who commends me on my honesty, and who values my work at 100 denars a report, cannot be too evil. Travel is dangerous, but she assured me that she thinks I will be able to pass safely from realm to realm because I am good at being overlooked. I suppose I should put that skill to use. I shall keep this journal with me. It's a dangerous thing for a spy to have, but when I go back to my safe life, hopefully a richer man than before, I shall want to remember this journey. # EARLY SPRING, [[Vostrum]] TO [[Husn Fulq]] I set off from [[Vostrum]] a week ago. The first leg of the journey, to [[Danustica]], was uneventful enough. These southern lands are beautiful in the springtime, when wild mustard flowers bloom on the hillsides and villagers hawk fresh honeycomb. The best thing about travel is the chance to buy local specialties that I could never afford inside the city. I saw the usual travelers on the road and passed a caravan or two, but few troops and heard few rumors of bandits or looters. When I passed [[Danustica]], and entered the Caldea wetlands, there was no one at all. I have never enjoyed crossing the Caldea - I feel so exposed on those spits of dry open ground between the lagoons, with nowhere to run if robbers come at you - and was hoping to stick close to an [[Imperial]] or [[Aserai-Sultanate]] patrol, but there were none. No robbers either. Plenty of mosquitos, but I had bought some sweetgrass from a [[Khuzait-Khanate]] peddler near [[Danustica]] and crushed it to rub it on myself, and so they did not bother me. I could also see flocks of **flamingos** wading in the lagoons, much closer to the road than usual, due no doubt to the absence of traffic. My approach once caused several hundred to take to the air at the same time, which was quite spectacular. I found out why the Caldea was so empty when I reached the [[Aserai-Sultanate]] frontier. The [[Aserai-Sultanate]] sultan, [[Unqid]], had little taste for war, but many of his emirs harbored grudges against the [[Calradian-Empire]] dating back to the Calradian occupation of the Nahasa, and sometimes he let them take a slap at the [[Imperial]] rump. Anyway the [[Aserai-Sultanate]] they had raided Polisia, and [[Characters/Bannerlord/Imperials/Rhagaea]]'s imperials, led by the archon [[Oros]] [[Mestricaros]], had hit back hard. I could see pillars of smoke from Tamnuh and Shibal Zumr (both are [[Aserai-Sultanate]] villages), and when I reached [[Husn Fulq]] I found it under siege. All the bandits chased from the Caldea were lurking just beyond the [[Imperial]] watchfires. So I found an [[Imperial]] picket and bribed him to let me slip into their siege camp and stay with his tent-mates. [[Atys]] was the picket's name. He was an archer. He and his five comrades were good company, at first. They took my money, but shared their rations and their tent. Mostly I played tablut with them for half-denar stakes. They mocked each other constantly - I was told that one of them used snot to wax his bowstring, apparently because he picked his nose from time to time, and they said [[Atys]] got terrible farts from cheese that stank up the tent, and so if they were out foraging none of them would ever loot cheese because their code obliged them to share it with him. I felt they were at the same time trying to make me feel comfortable and also show off to me how strong their brotherhood was. But then the conversation turned dark. They had plans for what they would do when [[Husn Fulq]] fell, and it involved a great deal of murder, torture, and atrocity. They had marched out of the [[Southern-Empire]] as a squad of eight, but two who strayed away from the main group while looting Tamnuh had been ambushed by villagers, and their bodies were found with nose and tongue cut out. My six new friends, out of loyalty and love for their comrades, intended to make a group of entirely unrelated townspeople pay. Anyway, I do not believe they had their chance to wreak vengeance on [[Husn Fulq]]. The second morning after my arrival, the camp suddenly erupted into activity. An [[Aserai-Sultanate]] relieving army had been sighted on the slopes above. It was big, and the archon [[Oros]] decided to lift the siege. [[Atys]] and his companions packed up their gear and joined the muster. They told me to take care of myself. I waited a short while, and then, noticing that [[Husn Fulq]] had thrown open its gates so that the besieged could go out and gather food and fodder, I made a dash for the town. Once I was inside, I made for the 'Inn of the Brass Key', where the tavernkeeper had broken out a cask of the local beer to celebrate the breaking of the siege. About two hours later a rather ragged-looking man approached me and told me he was [[Yatheb]]. He was, as [[Istiana]] said, a charcoal burner. He downed a mug of the beer, a light sweet brew made from mashed dates, then opened up with a gush of information, mostly troop numbers and the state of preparedness of various [[Aserai-Sultanate]] castles, which I wrote down for him to send to [[Istiana]]. (He was illiterate.) I remarked that he seemed a very thorough agent for a charcoal burner, which I suppose was condescending, but he did not take offense. Next to servants and prostitutes, [[Yatheb]] said proudly, charcoal burners are the very best of informants. The [[Aserai-Sultanate]] lands have few trees, and charcoal burners venture deep into the back hills searching for the acacias and tamarisks that grow in canyons. Because they are so vulnerable to robbers and wild animals, they form a tight-knit brotherhood to pass on information to each other. [[Yatheb]] told me that [[Istiana]] instructed me to proceed to the house of one [[Sathan]] Ibn Nasu in [[Hubyar]], which I will do. He says that Ibn Nasu is a merchant and a well-regarded patron of [[Hubyar]]'s poets and entertainers, and thus his house is a center of gossip, which makes the man a splendid informant. If I survive the journey I should at least look forward to a well-set table and interesting conversation. # MID-SPRING, [[Husn Fulq]] TO [[Hubyar]] I arrived safely in [[Hubyar]]. It was not a difficult trip, as it turned out, but it was a little unnerving. I attached myself to a Hubyar-i caravan that set out home as soon as the siege was lifted. We weaved our way through the canyons of the eastern Jarjara escarpment, watering our animals at the village wells. Just south of the village of Mussum, our scouts spotted a group of men in dark cloaks perched on an outcrop blocking our path. According to the caravan guards, these could be none other than the [[Beni-Zilal]], 'the Sons of the Shadows', a criminal brotherhood that haunts these hills, sometimes at peace with the [[Aserai-Sultanate]] sultan but currently at war. Our caravan leader ordered us to backtrack, but the [[Beni-Zilal]] pursued. We fled, jogging alongside the camels, holding onto their halters for that little extra speed, trying to keep up a good pace without exhausting ourselves. A wind kicked up a dust storm, and at first we hoped they'd lose sight of us, but between gusts we could see those relentless dark figures, coming ever closer. Just when it seemed that we were on the edge of exhaustion and could run no more, we heard shouts ahead of us. It was the Emir, [[Tais]] [[Banu-Qild]], returning from [[Husn Fulq]]. The [[Beni-Zilal]] fled rather than face his grim Mamluke horsemen. After we had caught our breath, and given thanks to the Heavens, and drunk a bit of water, we set out again in the Emir's wake. A couple of [[Tais]]' outriders lagged behind to guide us along, and told us that the [[Aserai-Sultanate]] had won a great victory at [[Husn Fulq]]. The imperials had tried to march away but were trapped against the Nahr al-Kals river ('**the Bitter River**' and '**the River of Lime**' in Nahasawi - '**the Calsa**' in Calradic) and brought to battle. Pelted with darts and arrows, the imperials had been forced to attack uphill, and were soundly beaten. Maybe [[Atys]] and his companions escaped. Archers, who aren't likely to be in the main crush of troops, probably stand a better chance of surviving a defeat than most. I hope I don't meet them again. We tagged behind [[Tais]]' forces to the gates of [[Hubyar]], and washed away the dust of the journey in the clear spring waters that flowed through stone-cut channels from the nearby cliffs. I then presented myself at [[Sathan]]'s townhouse, to see if the tales of his hospitality were true. Sadly, they were true but out of date. A servant informed me that the merchant himself was not taking guests and hurriedly pressed a sealed letter from [[Istiana]] and a purse of denars into my hands. The master had repented of his dissolute ways, the servant said, and had given up wine, dance and song. Espionage too, apparently. I heard the full story at the local caravanserai. Apparently, one of [[Sathan]]'s guests had composed a verse mocking the notoriously ill-humored [[Banu-Qild]] clan for failing to prevent their daughters from slipping away to spend time with the young men of more fun-loving noble families. Word got out to the [[Banu-Qild]], and they sent soldiers to smash [[Sathan]]'s wine vessels, beat his dinner-guests, and let him know that he'd better get used to a more austere lifestyle. I wrote to [[Istiana]] that she may wish to find herself a new informant in [[Hubyar]]. I found an inn and tempered my disappointment with a bowl of the local soup, poached eggs in a mutton broth with copious amounts of fenugreek, vigorously boiled in huge cauldrons so that huge green bubbles of herby froth kept erupting to the surface. [[Istiana]] tells me that I will travel next to [[Quyaz]]. She says I will be hosted there by [[Las]] al-Kani, a well-esteemed physician. He is a learned and intelligent man, though a poor host. He is likely to offer me, in place of wine, a concoction of bitter melon and herbs which he insists is good for the circulation of the blood. She said she could not evaluate this claim, but she could attest that it was an effective purgative. # MID-SPRING, [[Hubyar]] TO [[Quyaz]] The journey to [[Quyaz]] was comparatively uneventful. I was glad to have a chance to pass along the coast, to sniff the wild thyme and the salt air. My mother was born in this region. My father, who was briefly a sailor, had met her in [[Sanala]] and brought her to the [[Calradian-Empire]]. I stopped in [[Sanala]] and had a dish of sardines cooked with almonds and raisins in fennel, a dish my mother used to make. They used much more oil than she would have, and it was of poor quality and slightly bitter, but the fennel was good and fragrant and carried me back to my childhood. I am glad I ate well on the journey, for [[Las]] lived up to his reputation. I never met a more compassionate soul, nor a worse host. If you were not bleeding, feverish or puking your guts out, it was though he stared right through you. When I arrived at his house, he muttered a welcome then dashed off. The Emir ([[Tais]] [[Banu-Qild]]) had returned from the battle of [[Husn Fulq]], and there were bones to be set, wounds to be cleaned, and infections to treat. [[Las]] didn't even offer me his bitter circulatory concoction, but his two servants took pity on me and brought me some stuffed sausages from the marketplace, begging me to eat them quickly lest their master see the food and give me a lecture on the cleanliness of street cuisine. [[Las]] returned later and spent the rest of the night dictating orders to his servants for 'willowbark' (for fevers), 'aquavit' (to clean wounds), and 'silk' (for bandages). I noticed the servants took far more silver than necessary to pay for these goods, and made some comment to one of them about it. The servant explained that their master never remembered to pay them as he spent all his money on medicines for strangers, so they pilfered freely to make ends meet. [[Las]] never noticed. Needless to say the silver [[Istiana]] had left with him for me was long gone. I compiled a report of what little intelligence I had for [[Istiana]], and I hope he remembered to deliver it. The one upside is that I had the chance to spend time in [[Las]]' library, looking at medical texts. Many were in the [[Imperial]] tongue (**Calradic**) (that is how I came to know about willow and aquavit, which is useful knowledge) and some in Nahasawi and [[Darshia-Cnty.]], which I can read haltingly. Most intriguing to me were a handful of texts in ancient [[Kannic]], full of dashes and swirls and inscribed circles. As a child of the Perassic Sea, I would very much like to learn one day this language of my distant ancestors. One particularly depressing text was an [[Imperial]] encyclopedia of all the books known to have been written in [[Kannic]]. Perhaps one out of twenty had been translated into Calradic, and thus were recopied and preserved. The vast majority of the rest had been lost - eaten by rats, rotten, or maybe even burned deliberately. One of the servants spotted me reading and told me that, for my own good, I should put the book down. The [[Kannic]] lords ruled by bending jinn and demons to their will through unholy sacrifices, he said, and their books are cursed to this day. I would have scolded him for speaking ill of my forefathers, and his forefathers too I suppose, but he had fed me earlier and was now trying sincerely to protect me from black magic and I thanked him for his concern instead. People speak highly of Quyazi cuisine, so I wanted to try something there other than market-stall sausages. Before I departed I spent three denars on a dinner of grilled mackerel and chickpeas in a tavern down by the port. I suppose the quality was good but the chickpeas were doused in lemon and the fish was coated in a sesame paste, which overwhelmed the other flavors. [[Istiana]] left word that I should proceed to [[Pravend]], where my contact would be a hunter named [[Gosard]]. # EARLY SUMMER, [[Quyaz]] TO [[Pravend]] I travelled up the Biscan Coast (**Which was once a favored resort of the [[Imperial]] aristocracy.**), and at first I found the [[Vlandian]] lands quite pleasant. The south is warm and welcoming, with lush green grass and occasionally great red fields of poppies in those pastures left fallow, but as you get further north cool winds blow in from the western ocean. In some places sheep graze overlooking the sea-cliffs, in others thick woods creep down almost to the shoreline. Villagers let travelers sleep in their barns for a few coppers, and you can breakfast on porridge mixed with a bit of butter. I must learn never to be lulled into complacency by a bright sun and a nice breeze. Just a few hours south of [[Pravend]], the road took a turn through the forest. I had seen little sight of other travelers that morning. I suppose they knew better, and took a different route. No sooner did I enter the shade of the trees than I started to make out the outlines of men, resting in the darkness. They were dressed in cloaks and carried long bows. One of them lazily rose to his feet and barred my path. "Well hello little rabbit," he said to me. "You seem to have fallen into our trap. Now cooperate, and you can hop away unharmed. Make a fuss, and you'll wind up in the pot." They searched me thoroughly and took my purse. Between [[Istiana]]'s unreliable payments and travelling expenses I was down to only 50 denars, which I suppose was lucky. They then patted me on the back and put me back on the road to [[Pravend]]. Not knowing what else to do, I continued on my way, asking on the outskirts of [[Pravend]] for [[Gosard]]. I found him soon enough, in his hunter's hut outside the walls, with the paupers and migrants and fugitives that live in such places. The place was hung with dead pheasants and rabbits and curing meat, and stunk to high heaven. I told [[Gosard]] of my mishap and, with barely a grunt of explanation, he wandered off. An hour later he returned with my purse, which seemed to have been untouched. He was not one for words, but he explained how he got the money back. In [[Kingdom-of-Vlandia]] there are **strict laws against poaching** and virtually every hunter has been outlawed once or twice in his life. Usually they rob for a few years sand, if not caught and hanged, pay a bribe to have their outlawry lifted. So there's a bit of a '**brotherhood of woodsmen**' around every town, and it's a point of pride among them that they don't rob anyone under a fellow woodsman's protection. [[Gosard]] told me not to be so damned careless, because if this had happened in any other district he'd be able to do nothing for me. I had imagined that [[Pravend]] was still old [[Imperial]] 'Paravenos', the shining city we heard about in folk-tales and songs. But it takes only a few generations to transform a place, I suppose. You can still see the foundations of the old [[Imperial]] walls, but atop them the Vlandians have built battlements of timber. There are no forums, nor plazas. No marble. The houses are close together, and the passages between them are dank and smell of moss and animal urine. Still, the defenses look to be in good repair, the towers well stocked with all manner of dart-and stone-throwing engines. [[Gosard]] had 200 denars for me, so [[Istiana]] still owes me 400. But to be honest I'm happy not carrying around much coin. Most of my silver is now sewn into a set of hunter's skins I bought from [[Gosard]]. Everything chafes and itches, but I hope I look like a less tempting robbing target than before. # SUMMER SOLSTICE, [[Pravend]] TO [[Rovalt]] I have arrived in [[Rovalt]]. The north has a wild reputation, but my trip was peaceful enough. I passed the Ocs Pool (which was called '**Llyn Modris**' in the [[Battanian]] tongue) on the day of the summer solstice, and from a high place you could see bonfires on the edges reflected in the waters, as though it was a ring of lights. Then I headed northwest, into the Ebor peninsula. I found [[Istiana]]'s man [[Viddunthar]] easily enough in a tavern in [[Rovalt]]. We spent a few evenings chatting and playing 'Mu Torere', a popular game in the northlands ([[Principality-of-Sturgia]], though could be [[Nordland-Cnty.]]). I do not think it is [[Vlandian]] in origin, but games, they say, are like migrating birds. You see them on one side of the world and then you see them on the other side, and no one can tell how it got there. I say "evenings," but the sky stayed bright almost until midnight. As a southerner, I am not used to such things. The Vlandians make good soups, with lentils and peas and turnips all boiled together and flavored with pork fat, and they taste especially good in the cold mountains. [[Viddunthar]] was a Nord. [[Nord]] are all over these lands. Sometimes they come as sea raiders, other times as traders, and [[Viddunthar]] is a prospector. The mountains around here are rich in silver and other metals (**the mountains are the ridges of the Ebor peninsula**, and every summer after the snowmelt men trek into the streambeds to find promising-looking ores washed down into the valleys. The prospectors sell it to smelters and appraisers in the towns. Silver is usually mixed in with other metals and the value of ores is hard to recognize, and [[Viddunthar]] said the prospectors know they are shamelessly cheated. But at least you make a living without having to answer to a landlord, shop-master or jarl. [[Istiana]] had sent 400 denars to [[Viddunthar]], which squared our accounts. But that just meant more coins I needed to carry on me, and I figured I would need to be very lucky to avoid getting robbed at least once more on the way home. Luckily, I found another way for my money to travel. Many of the fur-traders and prospectors and fortune-seekers in [[Rovalt]] have the same problem as I do, and there are numerous merchants who specialized in the transfer of funds. I found one from [[Danustica]], which is near enough [[Vostrum]], and asked around about him, and he had a good reputation, so I decided to take the risk. I gave him the 400 denars and he took a strip of parchment with various dashes and dots written on it as a form of code, then ripped it in two and handed me half. He'll send the other half to his partner in [[Vostrum]] with a caravan, then when I arrive home I can find the partner and, if the torn edges match, collect my money. [[Istiana]] instructed me to head eastward along the southern shores of the Bay of [[Varcheg]], and I'll cut inland into the [[Battanian]] lands toward [[Dunglanys]] and my ultimate destination, [[Seonon]]. # MIDSUMMER, [[Rovalt]] TO [[Dunglanys]] I am now in [[Dunglanys]]. I left [[Rovalt]] with a group of companions that I had met in the inn, as we thought we would be safer travelling in a group. I had heard rumors in [[Rovalt]] that the Vlandians ([[Kingdom-of-Vlandia]]) were planning war against [[Principality-of-Sturgia]]. The Vlandians blamed the [[Sturgian]] prince for sheltering sea raiders that had recently ravaged their coasts, and there are leftover grudges from the [[Battle-of-Pendraic]], so the two realms never lack pretexts to go to war with each other. (*Note*: the literal meaning of the word ‘Viking’ is pirate or sea rover, *see* [here](https://www.collinsdictionary.com/us/dictionary/english/viking#:~:text=The%20word%20*Viking*%20has%20multiple%20meanings:%20*,to%20the%20Old%20English%20word%20*w%C4%ABc*%20(camp).). These so-called ‘sea raiders’ the Sturgian Princes have harbored could be some Vaegir or Nords; likely the Skolderbroda, or Vaegir Guard.) On the second night of our journey, when we had come down from the Ebor foothills into the salt-spray meadows of the northern coast, we spotted the watchfires of the [[Vlandian]] army and, across a wide glen, another set of campfires that could only be the Sturgians. The next morning, we watched from a hillside as the two armies moved into position. The Sturgians were almost all infantry, and lumbered directly at the Vlandians behind their huge circular shields. We saw the [[Vlandian]] knights line up, and, knowing their indomitable reputation, I assumed they would roll right into the [[Sturgian]] foot. But even the best riders are wary of disciplined spearmen, I suppose, and so they maneuvered here and there, trying to get the Sturgians to break up their shield wall, while their crossbowmen peppered the Sturgians with bolts. There were only a handful of [[Sturgian]] mounted druzhina present, and mostly they were held in reserve, but after nearly an hour of feints and counter-feints they dashed out from behind the [[Sturgian]] left flank to engage and delay a group of knights so that the foot troops could bring them to battle. It was a risky maneuver, as a gap did then open up in the [[Sturgian]] line, and the [[Vlandian]] foot came pouring down the hills to attack the [[Sturgian]] right. For all the complex maneuvering, everything came down to two big clumps of men hammering at each other, and I suppose whichever side won on one flank first would be able to reinforce the other flank and win the battle. A lot of generalship, I imagine, is knowing how to win quickly where you are strong and to lose slowly where you are weak. We did not stay to find out who won. One of my companions was [[Fiogrin]], a bard, who said he had watched a number of battles, as **the Battanians will pay highly for eyewitness accounts of fighting set to song**. By all means, he said, watch the beginnings, when the armies are drawn up in their battle-lines with everyone's armor clean and shining, and you can identify every lord present by his banner. But don't stay for the end, when everyone is running this way and that, bloodied and maddened and slashing at anything that moves, and the looters are moving down from the hills to defile the slain. That, he said, you can improvise. So we returned to our journey. From here, we turned southwest, climbing the long rocky slopes of the Uchalion plateau, the last refuge of the Battanians. [[Fiogrin]] was very talkative on the journey. To me, the [[Battanian]] landscape is all rocks and grass and oak-groves and heather, but to a bard it is a tapestry of stories, particularly fanciful explanations of place-names. Over there is the village Diantogmail, which sounds a bit like the [[Battanian]] words for "slippery" and "stoat." Clearly, that was where Old [[Mon]] had pursued one of the Emperor's magicians, who transformed himself into a stoat to escape. (Needless to say there is no record of an emperor who employed magicians.) Over here is where the hero [[Calain]], gripped by battle-madness, bit his shield before fighting an enemy and spit out the rim and formed that clump of rocks, Basciath, Shield-Snack. As we crested the ridge and entered the Uchalion plateau itself, the land dropped away a little bit and we found ourselves in a great grove of ancient yew trees, twisted and dark. The Battanians take the trees on the outer edges to make the staves for their bows, but, according to [[Fiogrin]], **those in the center are sacred**. Centuries ago, he said, **the holy men of the Battanians hung human sacrifices from the tree-limbs. He says that the practice has long since died out**, but it was hard for me to stare into the darkness and not imagine bones and skulls in the rustling upper branches. At last we came to the Llyn Tywal (which the Battanians sometimes refer to as '**the Dark Lake**' or '**the Sacred Lake**'), the dark round lake at the center of the Uchalion, and a few hours later we came to the citadel of [[Dunglanys]] on a great rock overlooking the water. **In the south, we imagine the Battanians as tattooed savages living like beasts.** But their houses are large, with high thatched roofs - 30 or more people may sleep in one each night - and their fortifications are indeed impressive - when they're in good repair. [[Dunglanys]] is a mad jumble of walls and towers, some crumbling, some ready for war. **It looks as though some parts of the city have been fortified against others** - and indeed the townspeople told me that the Battanians' "High Kings" have vied for thousands of years to rule this sacred spot, and sometimes two or three High Kings ruled from different parts of the town and fought each other. Feuds may also explain the [[Battanian]] chieftains' predilection for walling themselves up in huge circular stone towers with few windows. I will stay a day or two in [[Dunglanys]], to give the blisters on my feet a chance to heal. I also made the most of [[Battanian]] hospitality. It used to be that **innkeepers were required to feed everyone** who stepped through their door, **money or no**, but there are now too many people from other lands crisscrossing the Uchalion who might take advantage, and **they cannot honor that law to the letter.** But they still put out huge cauldrons every night filled with stews and porridges, and a soured thickened milk similar to the [[Khuzait-Khanate]]'s yoghurts, and for the price of your room you can eat your fill. # MIDSUMMER, THE EASTERN SHORES OF LLYN TYWAL I am now in [[Seonon]]. I joined a group of villagers taking their wares - mostly silks - along the southern shore of the Llyn Tywal. I did not know that the Battanians cultivated silk, but apparently one of their chieftains stole some silkworms from the [[Imperial]] lands some years ago, and managed to get them to thrive in the cool hills. My companions told me that Battanians associate [[Seonon]] in their songs and legends with madness and tragedy. On the outskirts of the town we saw a holy man down by the lake water, dressed in rags and covered in tattoos. The travelers said that he drinks nothing but water from '**the Sacred Lake**', which allows him to speak with ancestors who have passed into the [[Otherworld]]. Such holy men are allowed to wander freely through the land, even into the great halls of chieftains, whom they frequently berate for violating this ancient taboo or that. But, although [[Caladog]] has more to rebuke about him than any High King in memory, **they do not trouble him**. He goes down to the water and speaks at length with them, convincing them of his great mission to reclaim [[Calradia-Conti.]] for the Battanians, as though he were the second coming of [[Mon]] himself. [[Istiana]]'s agent in [[Seonon]], [[Taseil]], is one of the few Battanians not under [[Caladog]]'s spell. She was a niece of old High King [[Aeril]], who gave [[Caladog]] his daughter in marriage when the latter was just a young warrior, an orphan of no account, and for his generosity *'was murdered'* - according to [[Taseil]], anyway. Her parents had opposed [[Caladog]]'s rise **and were executed, and those family members who survived were driven into exile**. But the usurper, who bestows punishment and mercy according to his whim, chose to spare her. By all accounts, [[Caladog]] is a clever and calculating man. He chooses deliberately to act arbitrarily and impulsively, as though he were born to kingship and never doubts his own authority, as far as possible from the man he truly is, someone who needed to plot his every move to the top. Anyway, [[Taseil]] has been left to live by herself in one of those dark round towers, cluttered with her family's belongings. While I was there **she went frequently to the woods to hunt, but I suspect the stipend that [[Istiana]] pays her is her only source of income**. I made my bed near what I thought was a refuse pile, but turned out on closer examination to a heap of skulls. She told me proudly that this was her family's collection of trophies, collected over hundreds of years of battles and duels. Each skull had a story, she said, and she proceeded to tell me many of them - this one, a cataphract, slain by an uncle at the [[Battle-of-Pendraic]] (could be [[Ergeon]] [[fen-Derngil]]); this one, a chieftain of the [[fen-Derngil]], slain by a distant ancestor for his insolent tongue. **She would rebel openly against [[Caladog]], she said, except that if she lost her own life, who would take care of her skulls and who would remember the deeds behind each one?** # MIDSUMMER, THE [[Northern-Empire]] I have left the [[Battanian]] lands, and am back in the [[Calradian-Empire]] - for a little while, anyway. I descended from the Uchalion plateau down one of the steep glens that run down its eastern side. The road runs through some of **the most ancient woods in the [[Battanian]] lands, twisted oaks covered with moss, that, thanks to the shadows of the high cliffs, are kept in darkness for most of the day.** When I emerged back into the sun, it was though I had awoken from a dream. After a few hours of marching through the meadows, I spotted the great octagonal keep of [[Epicrotea]] in the distance. **I had been here as a child**, and the town was almost as impressive as I remembered it - the gate, the basilica, the obelisk towering over a clean and orderly marketplace. The [[Argoros]] family, which holds the archonship of the town, takes its responsibility to guard the northern borders seriously, and **part of their task is to maintain their town in such a way that a foreigner's first glimpse of [[Imperial]] power is suitably overawing.** I found [[Istiana]]'s agent [[Salion]] easily enough in the tavern where she said he'd be waiting. He was there with his constant companion, [[Skioren]], a Nord ([[Nord]]). [[Skioren]] was a former member of the 'Shield Brotherhood' ([[Skolderbroda]]), a band of Nord mercenaries **famous for their discipline**. [[Salion]] for his part had fought with the 'Lost Legion' (the [[Legion-of-the-Betrayed]]), a band of former [[Imperial]] soldiers who, feeling betrayed by the leadership of the Emperor [[Drosios]] [[Neretzes]], **abandoned the army to fight for silver**. [[Salion]] and [[Skioren]] met, if you can call it that, on a battlefield, where their respective mercenary companies had fought for opposite sides, and both had been badly wounded. They helped each other stagger to safety in a peasant's barn, and after a month's convalescence, decided they never wished to be parted. The Shield Brothers would not admit a Legionary, nor would the Legion admit a Brother, so they found their way to [[Epicrotea]] and accepted work as enforcers for the local gang leader. They were not cruel men, and seemed to see the breaking of debtors' legs as an unpleasant task of last resort rather than a perk of the job. But, as [[Salion]] said, any man who owns no land must make him useful to someone else. His great regret, he said, was that military orders like the Legion or the Shield Brothers preserve the memory of comrades-in-arms in songs and epics, while no one will ever remember two petty enforcers of a petty gang lord, no matter how deep their friendship might be. # LATE SUMMER, JOURNEY ACROSS WESTERN [[Principality-of-Sturgia]] I set off from [[Epicrotea]], journeying toward the [[Sturgian]] city of [[Omor]]. The trip, again, was uneventful. The southern [[Sturgian]] lands look much like the northern end of the [[Vlandian]] kingdom. [[Omor]]'s fortifications were nearly as impressive as those of [[Epicrotea]], and its buildings, though mostly wood, were lofty with tall peaked roofs. **In the south ([[Calradian-Empire]], [[Southern-Empire]]), we tell tales of the Sturgians as though they were half-wild man-bears, cousins to the wolfish Battanians, obsessed with war.** When I entered the gates I saw the Boyar [[Olek]] [[Kuloving]] ride by, and he really was an image out of a southerner's nightmares - **all bearskins and metal and beard, and a great scowl on his face.** But the townspeople all look and dress much like [[Imperial]] citizens, save for their fur-lined hats. They are not so much in love with war as commerce - specifically, commerce in furs. Everywhere I looked, bearded men and fierce-looking women were counting pelts, inspecting pelts, weighing pelts and bundling pelts onto caravans. There are no ancient lineages up here. Even the haughtiest Boyar remembers that, no more than a few generations back, his family was not much richer than anyone else, and it is fur that transformed this land from quiet woods into the thriving realm it is today. [[Istiana]]'s agent, [[Zorgan]], was a merchant here. He was very curious about my travels, especially about prices and availability of goods. He spoke mostly about politics. His outlook and prejudices reminded me of my own father (Valicos Sr.) - when things went wrong in a kingdom, it was always because the Prince, hungry either for power or the adulation of the mob, had refused to listen to the wise old men. [[Zorgan]]'s family was from a leading family that had sat on '**the Vech**', the town council. [[Raganvad]]'s father ([[Vadinslav]]) had dismissed them, threatening to hang them for treason, when they balked at paying for a war. In the old days, he said, anyone could summon '**the Vech**' just by ringing a great bell in the marketplace. [[Raganvad]]'s father had melted down the bell and used it to make bronzed helmets for his druzhina bodyguard. [[Zorgan]] was a great admirer of [[Olek]] [[Kuloving]]. [[Olek]], he said, was leading resistance in the [[Sturgian]] council of Boyars to a law that would allow [[Raganvad]] to hire one of the mercenary bands of the north, possibly 'the Shield Brothers' ([[Skolderbroda]]), and place them under royal protection. This would give him troops that would rally to his banner more quickly and readily than the Boyars, without needing to raise taxes. But [[Zorgan]] griped that this would mean that foreigners would go strutting around the realm as though they were Boyars. He said that some Boyars, who licked [[Raganvad]]'s boots, would back the law, but men like [[Olek]], who recognized that Sturgians had pride, would never stand for this. This too was like my father. When it was the Archon against the local landowners, then the Archon was a bumbling, war-mongering nose-in-the-air spendthrift aristocrat, ignorant of crop prices and the cost of hired labor and thus unworthy of wielding any authority. If it was the Archons against the Emperor, then they were the last defenders of ancient freedoms. # LATE SUMMER, JOURNEY THROUGH THE [[Sturgian]] WOODLANDS As per [[Istiana]]'s instructions, I set off from [[Omor]] a week ago, and am now in [[Sibir]]. [[Olek]] had recently swept the route of bandits, and thus it was safe to travel alone (through a pass that the Battanians call '**Mynad Rhyfal**' "**the Mountain of War**" and the Empire and Sturgians call '**Minador**'). High summer is a glorious time in which to travel the woods of the north. In the weeks before the harvest, with the grain growing high, the farmers put aside their day-to-day tasks to forage the wealth of the forest. In the villages where I stopped for the night I ate honeycomb, mushrooms, berries, and dried venison bought from roadside hawkers, washed down with dark beer made from rye bread. From time to time I caught a glimpse of fires burning in the woods off the trail. Villagers told me these were 'the [[Forest-People]]', who call themselves the [[Vakken]], burning down a swathe of woods and sowing their crops. They say that the cleared land gives great yields at first, and a [[Vakken]] must work less than a [[Sturgian]] to feed himself and his family. But it is quickly exhausted, and so the [[Vakken]] must move about from place to place. [[Istiana]]'s man [[Arto]] in [[Sibir]], himself half-[[Vakken]], told me a bit about his people. **No one could say whether they came to this land first, or the Sturgians.** For as long as anyone could remember, he says, the two people have intermingled. Sometimes they trade, sometimes they fight, much in the same way the [[Aserai-Sultanate]] live side-by-side with the Bedouin of the desert. [[Sibir]] was a town much like [[Omor]], the same tall wooden halls with great ceilings, the same bustle of trade in furs and lumber. The people here seemed to care less about politics than the people of [[Omor]]. Perhaps it was because the Grand Prince is far away, and the [[Khuzait-Khanate]] are near. # EARLY AUTUMN, JOURNEY ACROSS ILTAN PORTAGES TO [[Baltakhand]] I am now in the [[Khuzait-Khanate]] lands. I left [[Sibir]] and passed beneath the fortress of [[Tyal]], high on the slopes of Mount Iltan (**named after a god of the [[Khuzait-Khanate]] and [[Iltanlar]] steppe peoples**). Then I headed over the Iltan portages, which are to the north what the Caldea is to the south - a route by which ships transit from the outer ocean to [[Calradia-Conti.]]'s eastern rivers and lakes, hauled over narrow bridges of land and floated through lagoons. I saw several [[Sturgian]] longboats being pulled toward the Karakhaz river by teams of laborers. Some of them, I am told, were prisoners. Others must have been among the most desperate souls in the north, for the work looked murderously hard. The baked clay of the portage routes had been ground to a fine powder by the passage of the ships, and it billowed into the air every time a new crew passed, coating everyone and everything. The [[Khuzait-Khanate]] noyans were out patrolling, for the trade across the portages is vital to the income of their empire. They also treasure the horses of [[Tyal]], bigger than their own steppe ponies and almost as hardy, and encourage their import. So I made a relatively safe trip to [[Baltakhand]]. The town lies in the rocky foothills on the edges of the [[Khuzait-Khanate]] domain. Beyond, I believe, lies only steppe land. The people of [[Baltakhand]] speak the same language as the [[Khuzait-Khanate]] but, I was told, abandoned their nomadic ways many centuries ago. The [[Khuzait-Khanate]], for their part, are still nomads at heart despite ruling these lands for two generations. Everywhere in the city I could see the circular tents of the [[Khuzait-Khanate]] overlords, which are called '*gers*'. There were gers outside the walls, gers inside the walls, and the biggest ger of all on the top of the citadel, like a great dome. People told me that the [[Khuzait-Khanate]] wished to show that they had not gone soft like town-dwellers, and were still ready to take to the saddle at a moment's notice. [[Istiana]]'s agent in [[Baltakhand]], [[Agandios]], the former cataphract... I hesitate to speak ill of a man who hosted me, and indeed he was a decent host. But I felt obliged to tell [[Istiana]] that I thought he was unreliable, filled with anger. He drank a great deal, and since he insisted on imported [[Imperial]] wine, rather than the fermented milk that is the common drink of these parts, he must have been spending some dozen denars a week. He told me of how he was expelled from the [[Imperial]] service. It was a muddled account, but it seemed to me that [[Agandios]] was sent to parley with some [[Battanian]] chieftain to negotiate an end to a border feud, and, seeing as this chieftain had treacherously slain some of his comrades in the past, [[Agandios]] ambushed and killed him in turn. The senator ([[Senate]]) was ready to hand [[Agandios]] over to the Battanians ([[High-Kingdom-of-Battania]]) to be flayed alive as the price of peace, but [[Agandios]] was warned by sympathizers and fled into exile. That was some years ago, and he has since gone to seed. Apart from what [[Istiana]] pays him, I think he makes his living fighting at the arena on the off-days, where the merchants throw him a few denars to be trounced by the local [[Khuzait-Khanate]] champions so they can sell watered-down drinks to an undiscriminating morning audience. I doubt he is in shape to participate in any actual tournaments, and he did not mention them. It was unpleasant, sitting with him, drinking his expensive wine, knowing that my agreement with [[Istiana]] obliged me to file a report that would probably ensure that he would never again be able to afford it, and that if he knew what I would write his kindness would turn to rage. # EARLY AUTUMN, [[Baltakhand]] TO [[Odokh]] The trip from [[Baltakhand]], across the Devseg plateau, went well. This time I traveled alongside [[Istiana]]'s agent, [[Atun]]. Her people, the [[Karakhergit]], are still nomads. I met her near her Tribe's summer encampment on the outskirts of [[Baltakhand]]. They spend the warm months in the north, on the higher mountain slopes, where the grass is thick and lush. Fortuitously, their migration route south to their winter grazing grounds took me to my next destination, [[Odokh]]. Like many young [[Karakhergit]] women, she carried a bow, sabre and lasso and took her turn riding patrol around the herds of sheep and horses. She told me that it takes a half-dozen riders to safely move a herd, and that her people were constantly short of manpower. In the old days, when the [[Karakhergit]] were only one of many tribes living the nomadic life, it was easy for her people to find wives and husbands. But today, few other clans are willing to send their children to live the hard life out on the grasslands. To make matters worse, she said, it is next to impossible to prevent the herds from straying onto ever-expanding farmland, which means that the [[Karakhergit]] were constantly engaged in small battles with one village or another. [[Atun]] said that, in the old days, a [[Karakhergit]] maiden would not marry a man until he had slain his first enemy. Today, she said, she'd settle for a man who'd merely wounded someone, although she knew it would be a rocky marriage, as she had killed two of Khan [[Monchug]]'s men in a skirmish and husbands often become quarrelsome and turn to drink when married to a more accomplished wife. The [[Karakhergit]] often stopped alongside the road to trade with passing farmers and other travelers. The further south we went, I noticed, the nomads had more and more difficulty speaking with travelers in their own language, and the more they were forced to rely upon an ***'argot'*, the trade language of the steppes, a mixture of simple [[Khuzait-Khanate]], [[Imperial]] and [[Darshia-Cnty.]] words mixed with expansive hand gestures.** The Devseg plateau is a jumble of people, waves upon waves coming in from the great grasslands to the east before breaking on these shores. Some were fleeing enemies and found refuge in the high mountain valleys, others were seeking some stability and chose to live in the well-watered lowlands, paying whatever tribute they needed to **Khan, Emperor or Padishah** to be left in peace. The only complaint I had about the trip were the meals. I have never eaten so much meat. In [[Vostrum]] we relish the food sold by [[Khuzait-Khanate]] street vendors, those chunks of mutton cooked over open coals, or those bits of very salty eggplant soaked in mustard oil. But it's one thing to eat fatty mutton as a splurge, and another thing to eat it day in and day out (**the eggplant is a [[Darshia-Cnty.]] dish, apparently**). Whenever I had time near a village, and that village had no ongoing feud with the nomads, I tried to pick up a few extra loaves of bread. But there was nothing to dip it in except fat rendered from a sheep's tail. Finally I managed to buy some sort of syrup made from pomegranates, which was better, but still I would have killed for a vial of cheap [[Imperial]] olive oil. At the end of our journey we celebrated with melons bought from some farmers from the Kohi Rohini foothills (**"Kohi Rohini" meaning 'the Mountains of the Dawn'. These mountains have a reputation of 'black magic' and 'mystery'**). They were delicious and I wish I had known they were available when we set out. [[Atun]] was good company. I asked her why the [[Karakhergit]] did not abandon the steppe life and pledge fealty to Khan [[Monchug]], who was always in need of warriors and would honor them and grant them lands of their own, so they didn't need to fight their way across the Devseg every year to use their traditional pastures. She gestured up at the blue sky above us, where an eagle was circling. "Should he burrow like a rabbit?" she asked. This was what they thought about farming. The [[Karakhergit]]'s pride makes them insufferable to the other [[Khuzait-Khanate]] clans. Many a proud noyan has returned from [[Monchug]]'s wars, on a great [[Imperial]] warhorse with gilded barding and wagons laden high with loot, only to see a skin-clad [[Karakhergit]] on a scruffy pony looking at him with pity and disappointment. # EARLY AUTUMN, [[Odokh]] TO [[Lycaron]] I am writing from [[Lycaron]]. I left [[Atun]]'s tribe near the gates of [[Odokh]] and joined an [[Imperial]] caravan heading westward. It is good to be back in my homeland. When we first caught sight of the waters of Lake Tanaesis my heart leapt, and when I saw my first faded double-eagled banner on top of a ramshackle watchtower I felt like weeping and kissing the ground. It was harvesting season and the fields were full of farmers gathering in the grain, and on the hillsides they had begun the picking of grapes for wine. We spent a week traveling westward, and in every village I gorged myself - honey-cheese flat cakes for breakfast, figs for lunch, and sausages with barley-malt for dinner. At last we caught sight of the Ornian Rock and [[Lycaron]]. I had never imagined that fortress town, with its towers and its sharp crags above and the vultures circling overhead, could ever look welcoming, but somehow it did. [[Istiana]]'s agent there, the doctor [[Tacteos]], was a very considerate host but clearly short of money. He talked a bit about his woes. Even the most skilled physician fails to cure many of his patients, he said, and one of the town patriarchs had died under his knife a year or so back. The patient's bereaved relatives, helped by [[Tacteos]]' jealous competitors, set about attacking the doctor's reputation, and he did not have the energy to defend himself. Instead of treating those who can afford to pay a doctor's usual fees, [[Tacteos]] said, he wanders from village to village. The poor cannot pay much but, being used to have their ailments ignored by the learned, are grateful for what they get. During my stay in [[Lycaron]] the town was abuzz with preparations for war. [[Characters/Bannerlord/Imperials/Rhagaea]]'s forces had recovered somewhat from their defeat at the siege of [[Husn Fulq]], and her ally [[Pharon]] [[Leonipardes]] was preparing a new force to go out and do battle with [[Characters/Bannerlord/Imperials/Garios]]' troops. [[Tacteos]] watched them sadly. He liked [[Characters/Bannerlord/Imperials/Rhagaea]] personally, he said. But he did not expect that the [[Calradian-Empire]] could ever be made whole again. There had been too many civil wars. It was if, he said, two old friends had quarreled and said cruel things to each other that could never be unsaid. It was time for the Empire to be replaced by a younger uncorrupted people, with fewer bad memories and festering wounds. I would hardly call a people such as the Battanians or the [[Aserai-Sultanate]] "young", let alone uncorrupted, but I did not contradict him there. I related to him [[Istiana]]'s philosophy: 'that any kingdom that replaced the Calradians would make the same mistakes, and it was better to have an old Empire whose crimes of conquest were in the past than a new Empire whose crimes of conquest were in the future'. [[Tacteos]] disagreed. He brought babies into the world, he said, knowing that they would suffer, that many would turn to evil and few to good, and yet the knowledge that each would experience the world with fresh eyes and hopes gave him joy. Some people find it sad that dynasties rise and fall in a never-ending cycle, and that peace always gives way to discord and discord to bloodshed, but [[Tacteos]] said he would have it no other way. I have heard these sentiments expressed by warriors, who fear that long-lasting peace will deny them the chance to do great deeds, but it was strange to hear it from a man of medicine. # LATE AUTUMN, [[Lycaron]] TO [[Vostrum]] I am writing this from my room in [[Vostrum]], several weeks later than I expected to do, and with far fewer denars in my pocket. Since the Biscan Coast I had been wary of places bandits might hide, especially groups of standing trees near the road. I became careless in the open country south of [[Lycaron]]. I was walking alone on the scrubby plains, drifting in my own thoughts. I could see for miles in every direction and thought myself safe. Suddenly I was surrounded by a group of rough men who knocked me to the ground, knelt on my back, and trussed me up. They had been hidden on a shallow dip in the land which they had learned from experience was invisible to passing travelers. They dragged me back to their camp and left me for a while, then eventually their leader, a savage-looking fellow named [[Radagos]], came up to me to introduce himself. He was chatty, almost as though he was a sort of marriage matchmaker approaching an anxious client. He said it was time to discuss my ransom. Think of this discussion, he said, as if you were playing that game of dice they play in soldiers' camps, where you roll and roll and roll as high as you can without ever rolling over 21. Name a person who might pay your ransom and come up with a sum of denars. If the number is too high, your ransomer will not be able to pay it, and you will die. If that number is too low, then as soon as you become a burden to us, you will die. But if you value your life cleverly, you will live! I told him that my "aunt" [[Istiana]] owed me 500 denars, which was probably much more than my father could raise on short notice. Plus, my father would probably try to bargain with [[Radagos]], which defeated the purpose of the bandit's "dice game" and I think would have been dangerous. As for finding [[Istiana]], I suggested he send word to [[Salion]] and [[Skioren]] in [[Epicrotea]], who seemed the most reliable of her agents. I asked how he would send such a message. He told me that there was a vast network of letters crossing [[Calradia-Conti.]] from one hand to the other, and for every bird flying overhead from western shore to northern wood to eastern lake, there was a letter passing underneath. If you knew what you were doing, you could send whatever you wanted - as long as it wasn't worth more than a poor man's reputation. Why, he could chop off my finger, wrap it in linen, look up a peddler who he trusted and give him 10 denars and the finger, then the peddler on his journeys would find a charcoal burner he knew and give him eight denars and the finger, and the charcoal burner would pay a shepherd six denars, and so on down the road until at last [[Istiana]], wherever she was, would unwrap the linen and receive a bit of extra motivation to pay my ransom. As for sending and receiving money, he could do that too with a little extra trouble. I thought of the bit of torn parchment from [[Rovalt]] in my pocket. I asked [[Radagos]] how I could be sure that he would release me if [[Istiana]] paid. He told me there were two kinds of bandits, bloodthirsty ones and greedy ones. Bloodthirsty bandits die very quickly, if not at the hands of their victims' vengeful families then at the hands of their own men, for it's a chancy thing to follow a man whose word cannot be trusted. I should be lucky in that I was in the hands of a greedy bandit, he said. Indeed Emperors and Archons should welcome greedy bandits to their domain, for they keep away the bloodthirsty ones and impart order to the business of extortion and abduction, the second oldest profession. He said that he suspected that honorable, greedy bandits created the first kingdoms, having learned it is better to shear and milk sheep then to slaughter them. These conversations took place over a period of several days, and believe it or not they were comforting to have, because there's a lot that rattles around your head when you are trussed up by a campfire at someone else's mercy. But then [[Radagos]]' group had to pack up and move to a new hiding place, because the local archon [[Pharon]] was not, in fact, grateful to have greedy bandits in his domain. We marched up into the hills until the dust of [[Pharon]]'s patrolling horsemen on the plain died down and hid in a canyon, and then it rained and the canyon was flooded and we were trapped for a few days. I suppose 500 denars was a good price, because they gave me hot soup and blankets and kept me away from the other captives, who coughed all night and shivered with fevers. A travelling musician brought [[Istiana]]'s reply, and then one of [[Radagos]]' men went into town and came back with a purse. The 500 denars were all there. They blindfolded me so I could not find my way back to their hideout, strapped me on a mule, and dumped me just out of sight of the gates of [[Vostrum]]. There is more to write but I am very tired now. # LATE AUTUMN, [[Vostrum]] I am in [[Vostrum]]. There are reports that Khan [[Monchug]] has declared war on the [[Southern-Empire]] and is approaching with a huge army. People say that [[Characters/Bannerlord/Imperials/Rhagaea]]'s forces are busy with [[Characters/Bannerlord/Imperials/Garios]], and that she will not be able to defend us. Most of my fellow scribes have fled to their home villages. I should probably flee too, but I am very tired. I had exactly one day between my release and the start of the panic, and I was very lucky to have it. I couldn't get my old room back in the tavern, but I got the owner to give me a smaller one down the hall. Then I went to the local agency of the merchant with whom I had left my money in [[Rovalt]], and presented the torn piece of parchment. Sure enough, they had a matching piece, and handed me 360 denars - 400 minus a tenth part commission. I tucked the money into my cloak and went to my room to sleep. That evening the rumors started to spread. Rich city-folk packed their goods and set out for safer parts of the [[Calradian-Empire]], while the poor countryfolk flooded in through our gates in the opposite direction, seeking shelter within our walls. There were a lot more of the latter. I awoke in my room and came downstairs to find refugees camped out between the tavern benches and spilling out in the street. Many of the merchants had boarded up their shops, including the agency where I'd picked up my money. If I'd been freed one day later, or had delayed taking care of my business, I'd be sleeping in an alley penniless. But things are bad enough. Our town had never invested much in fortifications. Compared to [[Lycaron]] or [[Epicrotea]], our walls are not much to look at. They are low, and the stonework is crude. They seem to rely on an excess of mortar and timbers. There is an abandoned olive orchard about a mile from the gates. I think the trees must have died of some disease. I've buried all my wealth there, such as it is. I spent only a few minutes burying it and the better part of an hour trying to conceal any diggings. I kept looking at it from different angles, going back, piling on new dirt, not being satisfied, doing it again. I hope no one was watching me. I am not thinking straight. # LATE AUTUMN, [[Vostrum]] - END The siege of [[Vostrum]] is over. It was terrible but at least it was short. The fortifications proved to be as flimsy as I had feared. The [[Khuzait-Khanate]] appeared outside our walls two days before the autumn equinox. On the day of the equinox, they attacked. The first I heard was our local alley lord, [[Ungaron]], shouting for all men to run to the walls to help defend and swearing to cut down any coward where they stood. So I ran there and grabbed a chunk of rubble, imagining that I could heave it down onto [[Khuzait-Khanate]] heads. But when I reached the battlements they were already strewn with our dead and arrows were flying thick and fast. I peaked over the walls. I guess I had imagined that the [[Khuzait-Khanate]] would be standing in a big mass waiting to have their brains dashed out by my rock, but they were spread out and moving and I realized that I had precious little chance of hitting any of them. Meanwhile ladders were going up, and our guards were starting to break and run. So I heaved my rock over and joined the general flight back to our keep. I got through the streets, along with hundreds of others, and past the marketplace. We were halfway up the Citadel Stairs, all scrambling and stumbling over each other, and we could see [[Khuzait-Khanate]] starting to enter the marketplace, and then we heard from up front that the gates to the keep were already closed and barricaded, and that was maybe the worst moment of my life. But the [[Khuzait-Khanate]] were kept at bay by arrows from the keep, and many of us managed to scramble off the stairs and disappear into the side alleys. I spent that night in a cellar under the tavern, huddled with a dozen or so other survivors of the battle, and in the morning one of the tavern maids told us that our archon [[Turiados]] [[Hongeros]] had surrendered, the fighting was over, and it was as safe as it would ever be to go out. They say that when [[Urkhun]]'s hordes first swept in from the east they slaughtered the inhabitants of any city that did not surrender and erected pyramids of skulls. Well, two generations have passed, and the [[Khuzait-Khanate]] have learned that skulls do not pay taxes. They spent a day and a night looting but it didn't seem like they had killed too many people, and after that they wanted to get [[Vostrum]] back on its feet again. And this is when I had a bit of luck. I was gone out of the walls to get water and firewood and was coming back and a [[Khuzait-Khanate]] archer was monitoring the flow of people back into town, running his finger over everyone's hands before letting them through. When he found the writing callus on my finger, he asked me what I did, and when I told him I was a scribe he clapped me on the back and said that finding me would get him as great a reward from his Noyan as if he'd killed a cataphract. During the looting, someone had thrown a torch into the archives of the basilica, where debt and property records are kept. Somehow the debt registrar always gets burned when order breaks down, even when other buildings are left untouched. Well, the [[Khuzait-Khanate]] didn't care about anyone's debts, but no property records meant no taxation. So they were going around, asking local villagers to re-register their land holdings, and threatening to confiscate any land that remained unclaimed. They barricaded up the marketplace, plopped me down by my old fountain under guard with a set of pens and a mountain of parchment, then threw open the barricades and a huge press of farmers, artisans and landowners surged in. They crowded around me and from mid-morning until dusk I scribbled as quickly as I could - these acres on the north side of this stream in this village, or a half-share in this or that weavery. And more than a few of them pressed a few pieces of silver into my palm to make sure I didn't miss a detail or forget to add their claim to the pile. When I was done I found no less than 700 denars in the folds of my cloak, about what I'd make in six months' work as a scribe. A few days later I returned to the dead orchard and found my cache. Together this made well over 1000 denars. Now this was a sum that I could take back to my village and buy enough land that a respectable family might think about marrying their daughter to me. Obviously, with robbers on the roads, I could not count my chickens, sheep, cows and acres before they were bought, but my goal was in sight. I felt a bit drunk. As I was walking back to [[Vostrum]], my mind in a daze of dreams, a [[Khuzait-Khanate]] rider appeared on the road ahead of me. I was delighted, and startled, to recognize the horseman, or horsewoman I should say, for it was [[Atun]]. "Did the eagle get a taste for burrowing?" I shouted. "Are you fighting for the Khan now?" She looked glad to see me, and told me even eagles get tired of hearing everyone in their clan gush and admire someone else's [[Imperial]] loot, and may desire some of their own. We chatted a bit about our journeys, and she told me a bit about the bickering of the victorious Noyans as to who should receive [[Vostrum]]. Then I did something rash. I told her that I had managed to save a bit of money, and asked her if she would consider marrying me. I said that I had never killed any enemy, but there was a good chance that my rock had at least bruised someone. Better yet I had no desire to kill anyone, and thus I would never be jealous that her count should exceed mine. She laughed, and said that this was indeed a point in my favor. She told me that she would consider it. Then she bid me farewell, tossed her hair and rode off to the [[Khuzait-Khanate]] camp. If she does indeed consider it, even for a few minutes, then I suppose it will be the greatest honor anyone has ever done me. I shall now return to [[Vostrum]], draw up a final report for [[Istiana]], settle my tavern debts, and make my preparations for my return to my village (**Amycon village**). -- THE END --