The Duchy of Aquitaine

[Vladimir]

I [don’t have an avatar yet], dou humbly swear upoun my hounour tou humbly serve the rightful heir tou the throune of Fraance. I declare this und-er my free will. May Goud have mercy oun our enemies four I shall nout!

[TinCow]

*A dour looking man stomps into the hall. His face is somewhat flattened, as if his nose was broken as an infant. A cold glare warns off the first servant who approaches to take his cloak. Instead, he tosses it casually on the floor and turns to eye the adorning weaponry. After a lengthy examination of one of the more impressive looking spears, he nods slightly in approval and turns to the room.*

"Tell the Duke of Aquitaine that Christophe de Perronne has come to fulfill his offer. I hereby swear fealty to Prince Louis and will further his interests with my arm and my blood."

[Vladimir]

Tell me, mon seigneur de Perronne, what dou you find moust impressive about the spear? Is it the loung, heavy shaft made tou be gripped by a pouwerful warrior like yourself? Our is it the brouad, penetrating tip poulished tou perfection and made tou penetrate man and beast alike?

[TinCow]

These are tools, nothing more. What I approve of is the blood stain on the shaft of that particular spear. Weapons are meant to be used, not set to gather dust. I am pleased to see that at least this example has had its purpose fulfilled and is not just a pretty bauble. Can the same be said of you?

[Vladimir]

Can the same be said of you?

We shall wait [like Drizzt ] and see.

[Ramses II CP]

Prince Louis enters the chamber and gives each man present a short, brusque nod before speaking,

Gentlemen I accept each of your oaths in the spirit in which they are given. May God and King see them endure to the profit of Aquitaine, France, and our own good selves!

As to these weapons, there is no such thing as a ceremonial weapon in my mind. There are only toys and tools. If the device was not made for fighting I will not bear it's presence in my halls.

It is interesting that this particular weapon drew your attention. That is noble French blood on the haft. An Englishman, a common villain caught robbing in our countryside, tumbled one of my compatriots from his saddle with that spear. Sir de l'Yonne had his shield arm pierced and broken open, and his ankle broken in the fall. He has recovered the ability to ride, but he cannot properly grip a shield any longer.

The man who struck him down, we discovered afterward while taking sport with him, was a farrier by trade whom the English Prince had armed and sent out to harry our peasantry. Not even a soldier.

The nobility of France are the greatest fighting men in all of Christendom, of this I have no doubt, but a weapon cares not for your lineage or your skill, it cares only for the softness of your flesh. If you are careless even for an instant in battle some half trained boy will bury a spear like that one in you.

Take note of it. This I vow, the men of my House embark on hard days soon. Fighting like you've not seen. War. Profit, land, adventure, women, and treasure too, but you'll see none of it if you can't keep those hungry spears at bay.

The Prince holds his face in a grim position for a moment longer before breaking into a wide smile.

For now, though, let us have some wine and a bit of food!

Louis claps his hands and six serving girls enter the chamber in pairs. Each pair carries a wide silver tray, one with spiced wine and glasses, one with honeyed fruit, and the last with hunks of dark bread and cheese.

The Prince eyes the tallest of the girls as he takes the first glass and then gestures for her to fill it.

Now, chaps, have you an appetite?

[TinCow]

It seems I was correct to seek out your service, Prince Louis. I am pleased to find a Lord who knows the proper use of a weapon... *Christophe eyes one of the serving girls.* ...and how to maintain it.