The Farmer's War
A very short introduction to a longer story. I can't promise I'll be speedy in keeping this story up as the life of a soldier involves long hours and lots of exhaustion.
He was dressed for battle. His chainmail haubrauk weighed heavily on his shoulders and was made heavier by the heraldry he wore over it. His helmet was off as was the leather cap it normally rested on, and his sheild was on the ground, resting against his knee. He was idly drumming an incessant rythym in the center of the cross-roads where he stood with the point of his sword. A continuous chk chk chk that wouldn't stop until he had his news.
Lined up in ranks behind him were almost two hundred men-at-arms. All but 40 were mercenaries. He was only a country noble, and didn't have enough subjects to recruit more than that. But the mercenaries were reliable. And that was all that mattered.
A country baron. He had only three villages in his vast province, and the rest was all farm land. And that agriculture had made him rich. The excess grain, beef, and pork all went to city merchants for a good sum, supplying many of the cities in the kingdom with their supplies. His duchy was the bread and meat of the kingdom. He wasn't powerful, but he was rich, and wealth made for an excellent substitute. Wealth provided the mercenaries.
The sound of hooves reached his ears before the sight of the rider reached his eyes. The man was in a hurry and his beast was tiring. That was a shame. Now he couldn't take the rider with him when he would need all the men he could get. The rider approached him from his left and reigned in to a halt.
"My lord," the man panted. "From your brother-" Baron Viktor von Strauhd held up his hand cutting the messanger off. He accepted the parchment handed to him and read it in silence, his green eyes scanning the page slowly. His brother, Ebin von Strauhd and his two sons along with another 107 men would meet him at the southern village of their province where their brother-in-law was supposedly waiting with more soldiers. The message went on to say that by the time Viktor should receive it, that Ebin would be a day into his march and looked forward to seeing his brother soon.
Viktor sheathed his sword, donned his cap and helmet, and carried his shield up onto the back of his horse. For a moment he paused and stared down the long road South. It stretched for miles into the distance, curving around hills and bridging irrigation canals until it disappeared into the horizon. He didn't motion or look back at the men in rank and file behind him to the North. From the crossroads, it was another two days to Three Brooks, and another day after that until Ebin arrived.
They would have much to discuss. Much to plan. And much to do. And Viktor wasn't looking forward to any of it.
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And there ya go. Pretty vauge right now which is as intended. More detail and explanation of the setting and situation in the next installment.
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