[center][h3] Captivity and interrogation[/h3] [i]Collab between Grijs and Oraculum[/i][/center] The sun retreats behind the somber grey clouds at the end of another chilly day in the Visandzan mountains. Four night Einhard had passed in captivity, and by the filth in his cage the Paladin’s sorry state is starting to show. Crusts of dried blood are on Einhard’s blue and inflamed face from the beating he received the evening before, and the cup of Einhard’s ear had been cut off by the Gastald Liutpertus when the Paladin refused to talk. Paired with the malnourishment from being critically underfed, slowly the Paladin feels hope receding, and death approaching. [i]‘’I’m not done with you, Chlotar swine… I WILL make you talk, one way or another.’’[/i] Liutpertus hisses at him as he locked the cage and withdraws to the outposts’ interior. For now the Lamperts have called it a day, and most of the outposts’ garrison retreated back to the central hearthfire, or their tents, with only a few sentries remaining to stand watch. Silence fills the camp’s premises. Einhard hears only the throbbing pulse of his bleeding and mutilated ear, and a soft, distant howling wind soaring by the mountain tops. For hours he sat there, the once proud and honourable Paladin, now cowed by the evils of his fellow men, surrendering to a miserable fate in the dead of night. Most of the Lampert garrison is asleep, save for the night shift shuffling on and by the sentry towers. Yet more hours pass, when finally Einhard can sense footsteps approaching his cage... He does not bother to perk up. [i]‘’You sad man sitting in defeat. You are Paladin Einhard from the Chlotar Kingdom, is that correct?’’[/i] The voice of a woman. Einhard looks up at the approaching form, saying nothing in return. [i]‘’Have you succumbed, or do you yet have some spirit in you? Your people need your strength, Paladin.’’[/i] Einhard responds, [i]“Chlotar men don’t forget easily.”[/i] He pauses as he straightened himself. [i]“I will do my duty as my fathers before me. Our vow to Godas has never been broken in my line.”[/i] The woman nods. [i]‘’On the subject of fathers… I see that my own father’s men have not been kind to you. But I am not as them… so listen to me, and I will do my best to set you free.’’[/i] As the woman spoke these words, Einhard takes notice of the embellished garments, furs and jewels adorning her. And it finally dawns on him: this woman is a Lampert royal! [i]‘’My name is Dalgiserata, namesake of my father Dalgiserius… I believe you’ve been acquainted with him, a little.’’[/i] [i]‘’What do you want?’’[/i] Einhard snarls at her. [i]‘’Justice for both our Kingdoms. We are not your true enemy.’’[/i] Einhard just looks at her incredulously as though she takes him for a fool. [i]‘’Let me have an audience with your King Cauroman. If it is at all possible to avoid war, we must do everything in our ability to make it so… Wouldn’t you agree?’’[/i] Sighing, the Paladin leans up. Einhard has always been a reasonable judge of character, and has a nose for the smell of liars. Locking eye contact, he makes attempt to read her sincerity. …By the looks of it, she seems serious. Her face is beset with concern -- a quiet melancholy. Does she really care? [i]‘’All this death and turmoil will not be necessary, we will only wind up weakening one another.’’[/i] Einhard takes a deep breath and gives reply; [i]“Every Chlotar, from babe to crone knows not to trust a Lampert, just two-legged snakes looking to sink their fangs into you.”[/i] Einhard shifts forward towards Dalgiserata, [i]“How do I know you weren’t sent here by your father in witchcraft inspired plot to kill my lord?” [/i] Dalgiserata sighs. [i]‘’I knew bartering with you would not be easy. As a gesture of good will, I feel you are entitled to know just who had betrayed you.. Odo, the chief of Rudinberg, had been harbouring Lampert agents and providing information to my father for the past three years now… That is how we knew of your coming. That is why you are here now.’’[/i] [i]“Odo broke bread with me and my shield maiden, he swore an oath to King Cauroman, one would not anger Godas in such a manner.” [/i]Einhard spat back at her. [i]‘’Laiamicho, come here.’’[/i] A lanky, handsome man with dark curls and a shaven face appears besides the Princess, and Einhard recognises him immediately. He was at Odo’s side in the hall of Rudinberg! [i]‘’Hello again, good Paladin of Chlotaringen. It appears we meet under different circumstances now.’’[/i] The man, Laiamicho is his true name, gives a sly smile. Dalgiserata speaks again. [i]‘’He is my most trusted servant. His loyalty cannot be questioned..’’[/i] She says, after which Laiamicho follows: [i]‘’Sadly the same can not be said for Odo’s loyalty to your King Cauroman.’’[/i] The Paladin and the Princess lock eye contact again, and in the moment Einhard knows not how to respond. He opens his mouth, but is immediately interrupted by the princess. [i]‘’If your king is indeed the honourable man he is known to be, tell him everything. Tell him about Odo. and tell him about my request... If war can at all be avoided, this is the only way. Will you do this, Paladin?’’[/i] Einhard is still perplexed, overcome with a variation of feelings… Confusion, to name one. Disbelief, and also revulsion -- revulsion for himself that he let himself be betrayed, and that his lack of vigil has endangered Chlotaringen’s entire war-effort. He knows not how to respond to the Lampert Princess’ offer, and neither is he given the chance, for in that moment he could sense the approaching footsteps of someone else coming out of the dark. A group of figures draped in dark cloaks strides into the tent, glints of reflected firelight in their folds betraying the blades they carry at the ready. Faceless as shadows in their hoods, at first sight they barely appear human, filing behind one whose head is distorted in a monstrous insectile visage. Only at a closer look reveals that it is Dauraulf wearing his Locust-head helmet. The others bear similar countenances on amulets of roughly graven wood. The adorned helm turns from the captive to the Princess, the Farigai’s hoods following its motions as sword-points budge near them, before the mouth underneath lets out a half-voiced exclamation. [i]“Pest!”[/i] Dauraulf moves a step towards Einhard, blade now well in sight, but stops, glowering at Dalgiserata. [i]“Treason in the King’s own camp! And by whose hand! From you-”[/i] he points at Laiamicho, [i]“-there’s no surprise. Rotten mongrels always try to find a way to him, else we wouldn’t be on our feet day and night. But his blood! You’d throw out your father for the Chlotars?”[/i] By how he spits the last word, it is clear that is in itself a most grievous curse for him. If nothing else, this encounter is all the more evidence to the Paladin at least, that the Princess was being honest. Or it’s a very elaborate ruse. Carrying herself with strength, with no sign showing fear in the presence of her father’s most dreadful retainers, she retorts: [i]‘’You, from the Farigai. The likes of you should know better than to make such accusations. You serve the Royal Family, and what I do is for the good and survival of our Kingdom.’’[/i] Scowling from the back, Laiamicho calls agitated towards Dauraulf. [i]‘’The prisoner is our business. Your presence here displeases her highness...’’[/i] To add power to the statement, the armed escort draws his broadsword up from his sheath unto its point, halting a bare second from brandishing it fully. [i]“Pest and famine! You must think I have rot for a head that you’d have me believe that!”[/i] The Farigai leader points his sword at Einhard, his men moving past him into the tent, bristling with blades. [i]“What good’s going to come from dealing with snakes and swine? If this isn’t treachery, you’ve gone mad. Be that as it may,”[/i] he steps forward, [i]“we’re taking the Chlotar.”[/i] At his signal, the cloaked men advance into the tent. While they carefully step around the Princess, avoiding so much as brushing against her, they are less considerate with Laiamicho, who finds the points of several swords inches from his throat within the blink of an eye. Under Dauraulf’s direction, they tug open the Paladin’s cage and roughly haul him out of it, the enfeebled prisoner’s weak resistance amounting to nothing as he is dragged out into the night. As his henchmen push their charge out between the tent’s flaps, the leader turns for the last time towards Dalgiserata. [i]“You’re lucky we’re more loyal to the royal family than anyone in this wretched land,”[/i] he sneers, [i]“but remember we serve the King above all. Hope that this doesn’t reach his ears.”[/i] The Princess stands mute and defeated as the Farigai take away her one chance at bartering for Lampertei's future. While Laiamicho only scowls at the men that had threatened him, though cold sweat is on his brow, betraying how scared he actually was underneath the swagger. Einhard was burning with resentment, but he was unarmed and malnourished, weak. He could but imagine what perverse cruelties these freakish looking Lampert men sought to inflict on him. The company of men with the prisoner trod down the mountain slope from where the Lampert camp was, southwards towards the green valleys of Lampertei. The wind ceased howling, as though the elements themselves stood watch of what transpired. Save for the torches of the Farigai men, they and Einhard were in total darkness. Darkness, until the first light of day broke through the eastern sky, beaming at the group of men. And following this first beam of dawn, two white wings soared past the mountain tops directly towards the Farigai. As it approached, the Farigai halted, sensing its approach, and looked towards it unnerved. From afar it looked like a seagull, except much bigger. Einhard looked up as well. A darkling after night time? That can't be. Is it a predator of heaven, preying on the enemies of God? None of them could grasp its form by the angle and sheer speed it flew with. Only when it got very close could they see what it was… a white stork? But they saw it was clutching a lance in its bird talon, and it had an oversized helmet on its head. Before they could contemplate how silly that made it look, the stork with its lance swooped down at Dauraulf. [quote=@Grijs] [i]‘’My King, the Horn is lost. As the cowardly Lamperts slew Mauger in ambush, Godas sent down an Angel to pick it up, and took the Horn to the heavens as to not let it fall in Lampert hands. It is no longer of this world.’’[/i] Yet another Paladin speaks. [i]‘’An angel? I thought it was a white dragon!’’[/i] [/quote] [i]taken from the Intro Post[/i]