[b]Celsmuth., Kingdom of the Cels[/b]

"You see, the problem with the Ice-People is that they have no concept of military science. Words like 'Tactics' and 'Strategy' mean nothing to them. They all climb into boats with whatever they or their ancestors have stolen from better people, and if they have no stolen weapons, they grab whatever tools they have lying around, and they sail along the coast until they find a place to deploy. And when a band of Ice-People 'Deploy', what they really do is act like bandits, dashing every which way and stealing what they can. Militarily speaking, it's all very easy to mop such a mob. But arriving in time for the mop up? That's a complicated notion."

Serdic spoke to his companions on the road. It was him and Sibetta, him on a powerful white charger, her riding side saddle on a white mare. Behind them rode four Good Men in heavy armor. They were traveling a sunken road, old beaten cobblestones appearing in the kneaded mud like raisins in a pudding. Overgrown hedges and hoary oak trees leaned in toward them and formed a natural breastwork.

"I will tell you one thing, Sibetta. They don't understand cavalry. That is important. You show one of the Ice-People a regiment of our Good Men and they only see men in plate armor, with helmets and horses and such. But there is more to military science. A regiment of Good Men understand the value of the flank, of high ground, of how to divide and smash an opponent. The armor helps, sure. I don't believe I've ever heard about an Ice-Man in full plate." He looked back at their Good Men escort, conscious they were listening. Their true faces were not visible, hidden behind cylindrical helmets with small slits for the eyes. On the face of their helmets, the smiths had crafted metal faces with strong noses and thin mouths. Each metallic face had a mustache, some no wider than the nose, others arching toward the bottom of the helm. Thin ribbons of colored cloth flew from the back of their helmets and caught the breeze. A Good Man wore one ribbon for every battle he had fought, or tournament he had competed in, or personal duel he had survived. 

"It is a gloomy day." Sibetta said, looking in the direction of the sea though she could not see it from the road. "I fear it might rain while we are out here in the open." The air was thick with a cold droplets, and grey clouds threatened from the direction of the coast.

"I will keep you dry, dear. Don't worry much about that. And a little bit of water is worth witnessing glory. Now... I was saying. Oh! I would reckon even a few hundred Poormen could destroy the entire race of Ice Men arrayed in their natural formation. Because armor isn't the most important part of a horseman's capacity, you see. Come in from the sides, drive them in fear toward the center, and squish them as if they were in your hands." he pressed his palms together for emphasis. "I would even bet that, if you took a few cavalrymen and arrayed them on their mounts as naked as babes, they would still destroy a mob of icemen. Even if the ice men stole stone armor for the dwarves. Military science, my dear... Ah, this is the hill. If you are afraid of blood, my dear, then steel yourself."

They crested a ridge and followed the road as it emptied onto the coast. At the edge of the grey-sand beach was a fishing village in the shadow of an abandoned castle. The fortification, salt and moss digesting its stones, watched the sea from a rocky escarpment like a forlorn fisherman's widow. Under the walls, silhouetted against the stone, were dozens of gallows, all in use.

A rider blocked their way. He sat a wiry mare, a smear of blood on it's shoulder but no sign of injury to its body. Except for a pointed steel helmet anchored by a nose guard, the man's clothing consisted of leather and padding. The butt of his lance, a simple wooden thing, was pressed into the dirt of the road. A buckler was strapped to his other arm. 

"Humble friend!" Serdic shouted to the man in a tone more suited for a dress ball. "I am your Karl of Estbyrn. And this is your King's daughter. We are here to review the field. Take us to Lord Bulfirth, if he is still here."

"Aye." the rider said tonelessly. "Follow me, lords." 

They moved at a trot through the village. Its huts were driftwood, stone, and thatch. Old jute fishing nets, made brittle and ragged from years of use, were hung over the outside walls of the huts, where flowers or seashells where attached as decoration. Women in woolen dresses were combing the battlefield for trinkets, taking jewelry off of corpses, or pieces of damaged armor, or pulling teeth from the gaping mouths, so that these souvenirs may be added to their netted walls. Those who looked up at Serdic and Sibetta recognized them for nobility and bowed their heads. Beyond, along the water, the village's men wrangled with the forfeited Longboats. Fishermen to a man, they studied them with the sympathy of professionals. 

After crossing the beach, they approached the castle, and the hanged bodies became apparent. "Lord save us all." Serdic exclaimed. "They are only boys!" The bloating blue faces, their eyes made red as devils and their faces twisted from the struggle of strangulation, were otherwise boyish and without hair. They things they had brought with them - their jewelry, armor, weapons, shoes, and totems - had been stripped from them, so they swayed barefoot in the worthless seal-skin rags their kind preferred. It was disappointing. Serdic was further disappointed when he realized who the lynched Ice-Men were. The prisoners. He wished to see living Ice Man, but Bulfirth had put them down before he could arrive. 

"Fair one." it was Bulfirth, riding down from the ruins with his own escort of Good Men, voice echoing in a thick conical helm fringed with victory ribbons like rays from a setting sun. The barrel-chested Lord rode up along side Sibetta, and Serdic noticed his betrothed was covering her face and looking away from the gallows. "You do not have to look at them." Bulfirth said, speaking in a hushed tone to Sibetta. "But do not make it so plain. Your people should not see their princess looking like a child." He took off his helmet and placed it on his saddle horn, showing the blushing princess a warm and fatherly smile on a care-worn face. A neatly kept brown beard followed the line of a thick jaw that would have been handsome if it didn't jut slightly to the side. His hair was kept manageable short, and was not maintained in any purposeful style. On the front of his plate armor was a thick steel device made out like a shield bearing the image of a venerable owl with wings outstretched.

"Lord Bulfirth!" Serdic greeted. "You have the praise of the King and his court. More victories like this and the race of Ice People will cringe from our shore." 

"I thank you." Bulfirth replied. "But I hope the court will agree when I say that this victory belongs to God. I arrived, lord Karl, and did not find certain victory waiting for me. I found an enemy, and I fought him, and God found it suitable to reward me with the field."

"Yes." Serdic said. "Well, God has been very good to us." 

"Very true." the big warrior said humbly. "I can only hope we have earned that blessing."

Serdic looked up at the gallows. "Did they give you any trouble?"

Bulfirth looked back, turning awkward in his heavy armor. "No. But there was no purpose in keeping them alive. Ice-People are profane little creatures."

"Did you have time to question them?"

"They could have nothing of value to say." Bulfirth replied. "What could they say? That they want to menace our people and steal their things? That he has a concubine at home who he wishes to rape before he dies? Maybe say prayers to the rotten hump of seal fur his people worship? I took what I needed. I have this..." he motioned to a hatchet hanging from his belt. "...one of them made this. It's not very good. And I have those..." he motioned to the longships swarmed with fishermen on the sand. "...they do have value to me. Come, join me. I am going to sail back home."

"In one of theirs?" Serdic looked out at them and wondered, for only a moment, how something they made so far in the north could be sea worthy. "Of course." he said. "Lead the way, my lord."

"I don't want to!" Sibetta blurted. Serdic looked blankly at her, not completely accepting she had said that. 

"Sibetta, my dear." Serdic rode next to the skinny girl looking so frightened and small on the top of her horse. "If you don't want to do something, that is fine. If you are certain of it, say so, and I will send you back with our escort."

Sibetta looked ashamed, the offer rattling in her head. "I want to ride home." she confirmed. "I'm sorry, Serdic, but the sea..."

Serdic didn't want to admit she had let him down, so he smiled as warm as he could pretend and sent her on her way. What an honor she was going to miss. What an experience!

They loaded onto the longboats awkwardly. Serdic went first, climbing into a vessel and finding the angle of the thing uncomfortable to walk on. Bulfirth placed his helmet in the sand and, with the help of a young squire, took off his plate and placed it next to the helmet. Next came off a coat of chainmail, leaving him in a woolen padded suit that covered his head and hung down to his knees. He put back on his belt and scabbard and climbed in next to Serdic. 

The sailors, mostly footmen with a few fishermen to help, pushed the boats into the water and jumped on board to man the oars. Soon they were off, skimming over crystal water like a spoon through cream, the sea spray cooling their faces, the sail cracking solidly in the wind. 

"These are cleverly done." Bulfirth said. "The shallow draft must be for river travel. Brilliant speed. Their only disadvantage is they cannot stand in a fight against a heavier ship, but so far our heavier ships haven't been able to catch them."

Salt stung at Serdic's eyes, and he squinted to keep from crying. "It's a wonder those people can build something like this." he said.

"I think they were meant for us." Bulfirth said. "And if I can get the King to accept it, I think we can make use of this gift."

"I don't understand." Serdic said.

"These ships move fast and can be used cheaply. Group them in parties of three, place seasoned soldiers at the oars, and use them to patrol our coasts. Enough of this and we could clear our seas of these Ice-People."

"Can you build these?" Serdic asked.

"What would be the purpose of an empty gift?" Bulfirth asked. "We must be able to build them if they are here in our hands."