~ The Council of the Knights of Rinder: [Archive] [Home] [Previous Turn] [Next Turn] ~

"Next? We wait."

Hannibal nods, realizing that the time for action was near. Kneeling down, Hannibal feigns securing his boots until Storm took a look in his direction. Casually, Hannibal points to the rope and then made a subtle snipping motion before rising again. Whatever Storm did from here, Hannibal had to make sure he took care of his friend's back.

Storm looks around the roof of the building, feeling a little awkward at being so far from the ground. That thought triggers the memories of a time long ago for him, a time spent living in his family's caverns under the northern Raimead's. He is particularly drawn to a time where his father was helping him forge a nice long sword, yet Storm could not master the technique and the metal snapped in two. The echoes of his father's yells trickle through his memory as he hears an audible cough from his side. He looks in Hannibal's direction to see the man hunched over his shoe but looking up in his direction.

Snaps back to the world of the real and present, looking down to see Hannibal's fingers move in a scissors-like fashion toward his rope. Storm stares confused for a moment, wondering why on earth Hannibal would want him to cut their ropes. But figuring the man knows what he's doing, Storm starts looking for an opportunity to cut their ropes when the others aren't looking.

Fortunately for everyone, a few minutes later Storm realizes exactly what Hannibal was referring to before taking any action. "Arrr, that bugger wantin' ta cut them ropes AFTER we's jumpin' down! That be makin' a good Rinder's Six ambush!! Hahaha!!" He thinks to himself. He relaxes a little in knowing that he doesn't have to take action for a little while longer. He sighs and looks to the other thieves on the rooftop. He envisions a battle right there and then on the roof, first throwing an imaginary dagger into Pale Thunder's chest before hacking Morden's body to pieces. Storm smiles as he again returns to reality, knowing that, while perhaps not as Storm had fantasized, the time of the thieves' death was quite soon at hand....

Securing his rope, Hannibal walks back to the precipice and looks down into the room. He fiddles with his new dagger, testing weight and balance in his hand. Although thieves were supposedly known for their knife work, it had been a weapon that Hannibal had only recently taken a real liking too. Possibly his past as a warrior had shyed him away.

As the time presses on and Hannibal watches events below, making sure that his position was next to Morden, hopefully as close as possible. He made reason for this by striking up a conversation, asking the man about local guilds and such as if to pass the time. While at this, he casually entangles one of his ankles in the rope, hopefully to stop any decent beyond five or ten feet into the room.

Outside the Great Forum, the Knights continue to arrive. Sir Judd and Sir Klare, both nodding to Emma, Naeron and Cy as they enter. The rest of the Knights are announced: Sir Kamlet, Sir Latham, Sir Masten, Sir Nair, Sir Pagek, Sir Shannon, Sir Bowman, and Sir Samuel. Each arrives with two or three squires. Other official-looking figures arrive as well: aides, liaisons, etc. The Round Room is quickly filled, as the Council Knights take their ten seats around the table in the very center of the room.

Emma, Cy, and Naeron enter toward the end of the gathering, just before the meeting is to convene. They enter through the east doors, and the sight is magificent. To see all the regal colors and the polished costumes and faces lining the walls of the room. Voices are everywhere as everyone greets those around him (and in a few cases, her) cordially. The sun's late-morning rays shine through the two glass panels in the ceiling, which rises from the sides of the circular room in a gentle arch, then juts up in the shape of a circle in the center of the room. The last of the Knights steps downward on the step into the center of the room toward the table, and Emma, Cy, and Naeron are quickly shown to three chairs along the north-east outer wall of the room.

Emma concentrates and focuses her gaze on each of the Knights of Rinder, as well as the people traveling with them, as they settle into the Round Room. She calls upon Anhur's sight to peer into the heart and determine a person's motivation. Could any of the Knights or their attendants have evil intentions this day? She hopes not.

As the inspects the room, she fails to pick up on any strong senses of evil. Good motivations abounded, and some were definitely stronger than others. But to scan everyone in the room would take considerable time and effort, and for the moment she is content to know that she doesn't sense any particularly strong evil.

Crayne looks glumly as he leaves the kitchen area. He was sure that the poison was going to be administered just before it was taken to the Knights. Had he missed something? His mind started to stray as he began to follows the food to its destination, hopping onto the back of the wagon before its departure from the castle for the Great Forum.

Perhaps this was all a set up after all, Crayne thinks in a melancholic fashion. Perhaps the Lady Hannah and Baron Wade III had contrived in a plot to set Rinder's Six up. Could it be? It seemed far fetched to Crayne but in his mind anything was possible.

Suddenly a whistling pierced through Craynes thoughts. Looking back Crayne saw the Master Chef whistling in a happy and tuneful manner. It was then that it struck him. It had been staring Crayne in the face all along!

How Lady Hannah would pay for her mistake, Crayne thinks to himself. If she hadn't have made her appearance then perhaps he would never have arisen suspicion. But she had and now she would pay. For what was it that she had said? 'Be sure your food is extra tasty today, Master Chef. We don't want to be unappetizing hosts for the Council, you know.' And how the Master Chef had replied in such a manner, with a wry smile and a nod of understanding. At the time he had been sprinkling the meats with the herbs from his jars and vials. Although it wasn't herbs was it Master Chef? It was poison. And Lady Hannah had come to check up on the Chef to ensure that the task was carried out. How she would pay for that small tiny error, Crayne thinks to himself.

A broad grin spreads itself across Crayne's face. At last, Crayne thinks to himself, for who better to lead to the villain than the person's own head chef. The evidence was now strong enough to be presented and how it cheered the troubled Crayne. Heading along the city streets with the trays of food, Crayne takes a sniff and leans over to take a closer look. With his skill in herbalism Crayne tries to identify what might have been administered on the meats.

But he cannot be sure. "This is a skill I must refine," he thinks to himself. "Perhaps I can pick up a book on herbs, spices, and poisons before leaving this erudite city!" He can tell that the roasted chicken smell of the most spices, but he cannot be sure if that indicated the presence of the poison.

"This meeting of the Council of the Knights of Rinder, as first convened eight generations ago by King Franklin I of the Great House of Merriam and King of the Kingdom of Rinder, and ordained thereby, will come to order," Sir Samuel says, knocking his staff on the stone floor and standing behind his chair as the other Knights take their seats. Everyone else in the room quickly sits as well.

Samuel stands tall. He appears to be the oldest of the Knights, and his white beard shows his age. The lines on his face, the scars on his cheeks and forehead stand as testimony to his years on the battlefield. One wonders how many kings this Knight has served. His breastplate is polished gold, bearing the standard of the Great House of Merriam.

"This council will observe a moment of silence in memorial prayer for our dearly beloved ruler, the Great King Garith III of the Great House of Merriam," Samuel bows his head slightly, closing his eyes. Was that a tear? Was the Knight crying? Emma squints as she strains to see across the room. Regardless, this was no evil man.

The other Knights bow their heads as well. The other squires, aides, and dignitaries follow suit, and the room falls silent.

After a moment of silent prayer, Samuel looks up and continues addressing the Council and those present. "In accordance with the traditional Rite of Allegiance to the Throne of Rinder in the name of Sovereignty and Justice, I call upon the gods for their blessing and lay down my sword so as to convene this council in cooperation." Samuel reaches to his side, unsheathing his sterling, shining broadsword. He holds it up in front of him, the glorious sunlight glistening off the polished metal. Then he slowly lowers it down onto the table before him, it's blade pointed across the table.

The other Knights do the same, in silence.

"In these times of renewed bloodshed I call upon Sir Nair, Council Knight of the Duchy of Adela, to offer his report." With those words, Sir Samuel, Council Knight and liege to the Great House of Merriam, slowly (and painfully?) takes his seat around the round table.

Sir Nair, Council Knight and liege to the Great House of Adela, rises from his seat. He is a youner man than Samuel, by perhaps twenty years. His short, dark, curly hair rests atop his head and his strong arms and chiseled figure indicate his physical prowess. No doubt this was an able warrior.

"Thank you, Sir Samuel of the Great House of Merriam. My praise be to the gods and humbly before them we request their blessing in this time of dire need. My humble welcome to the Council of the Knights of Rinder. It is a pleasure to see your faces despite these unhappy times. And my welcome to all others present.

"Reports from the Caerloon front are scarce. The early battles of this campaign have only recently been decided, yet much blood has been shed, many a great warrior has been slain. These facts are clear: The murder of Captain Frond, of Fort Mitchend, and the subsequent murder of Sir Logan, Council Knight and dear comrade, were precursors of the organized and meticulously planned assault upon our kingdom by our southern neighbor. While it was first believed that these murders were simply the work of a mad wizard, namely Dire Luthor, formerly in the service of Sir Logan, recent events have suggested--if not proven conclusively--Luthor's innocence in the matter. Rather, missives obtained by operatives under the auspices of Sir Nigel, Council Knight, suggest that Luthor was framed for these murders as part of the larger conspiracy.

"My fellow Knights, the powerful and mysterious Red Dragon School of Mages, sometime nemesis and sometime ally to this Council, appears to have split in two. The instigators of this schism appear to be located in the Kingdom of Caerloon, perhaps with the King himself. The Southern Bloc of Mages within the School have openly sided with the Kingdom of Caerloon in this developing conflict. The others, namely those Mages and Wizards in the service of officials within the Kingdom of Rinder, have chosen thus far to maintain the School's historic neutrality.

"A name has surfaced as the primary organizer and military mastermind behind the actual armed aggression along the border: The Baron General Robert Wade III. Troops under the command of General Wade have attacked and destroyed Fort Mitchend. And were it not for a spectacular military victory at the hands of Captain Wheeler of Fort Lowfield and the famed 'Rinder's Six,' Wade's troops would still control Fort Dillend, as well.

"The Baron General's troops have made their presence felt within our borders as well, gentlemen. They have been identified within the Raimead Duchy, deep within the heart of our kingdom!" This sends a wave of concerned whispers through the room, many in disbelief. "We cannot underestimate the power the Baron General holds!

"Moreover, it has come to our attention that the Baron General has allied himself, or at least had successful dealings with, large contingents of Orcs, suggesting possible treaties with some--if not all--of the Orcish tribes across the Sinele.

"Moreover, documents obtained the Rinder's Six operatives reveal strong evidence for the support of the King of Caerloon in these matters, and the support of the Southern Bloc. This information was taken from the Baron General's personal command tent." This sentence sends another wave of whispers through the room as the astonished squires smile at the thought of Rinder's soldiers stealing confidential secrets from the enemy general's personal tent! Sir Samuel pounds his staff on the floor, bringing silence again to the room.

"As currently stands," Sir Nair concludes, "Fort Mitchend is destroyed and is useless to both Rinder and Caerloon. We now control all of the remaining border forts, including Fort Dillend. But our manpower is weak. It is therefore formally requested by my loyal Duchess, Serra II of the Great House of Adela, that this Council agree to a substantial and fair conscription of troops from all the duchies so as to bolster our defense of the Kingdom, if not initiate a counterattack. This concludes my report." Sir Nair bows his head slightly, then returns to his seat.

Sir Klare then clears his throat loudly. "Sir Klare," Sir Samuel says with a nod."

Klare stands and looks over the Council. "My fellow Knights and all guests present, I bid good morrow to you on behalf of my lord, the loyal Duke Phillip III of the Great House of Welten. It is the position of my Duke, which he bids me convey to the Council, that a fair representation of troops be conscripted from each of the seven duchies so as to properly defend our southern border and launch a necessary and sufficient counterattack upon the southern aggressors. My Duke is prepared to raise an army of five thousand men."

"Might I remind this Council," Sir Masten says in a slightly annoyed tone, rising from his seat without the introduction of Sir Samuel, "of the very real and pressing danger of an open assault across the Sinele River from the Orcish lands, especially in light of the recent alliance between the Baron General Wade III and some--if not all--of the Orcish tribes. To raise an army of such numbers from the Duchy of Marlond, my good lord, Duke Patrick II of the Great House of Marlond, fears, would leave the Duchy of Marlond weakened and defenseless should a front be opened along the Sinele. My Duke suggests, indeed, formally requests, that fair representation be made in accordance with the populations and strategic importance of each duchy in the Kingdom."

"My good comrade!" Sir Kamlet objects, "My lord, Duke David II of the Great House of Archadia, would formally protest such a measure! Surely the geographic location of the duchy of Archadia, with its situation along the Northern Sea and between the Duchy of Raimead in the west and the Duchy of Seden to the east, would lead proponents of such a measure to expect a disproportionate number of men to be conscripted from the Duchy of of Archadia and the villages and hamlets therein. My Duke formally protests such a measure, as it would offend his royal sense of justice and would place an unfair and unjustified burden upon the loyal subjects of Archadia. And might I remind the council of the economic importance of Archadia--"

"Do you mean to suggest, Sir Kamlet of Archadia," Sir Nair interjects, not bothering to rise from his seat, "that Duke David II of the Great House of Archadia would withhold troops from the army of the Kingdom of Rinder? Does your Duke realize the ramifications of such an act?! Such actions could decide the fate of a crucial battle and lead to the eventual destruction of our kingdom! I would interpret your comments, and the position of Duke David II, to suggest that your Duke feels less loyal to the Throne of Rinder!"

"Throne of Rinder?!" Sir Latham shouts, "To whom are the Dukes and Duchesses to declare such loyalty? For today the great Throne of Rinder sits barren and empty! Before many of the Dukes and Duchesses are willing to rally troops, I fear, the issue of the Royal Succession needs be decided!" Another wave of comments and whispers sweeps the room as the squires, aides, and dignitaries present all grow a bit anxious and the deteriorating solidarity before them.

"What be takin' them so long?" Storm asks aloud as he, Hannibal, Canter, Pale Thunder, the sidekick, and Morden stare down through the glass panels.

"Stupid knights," Morden says under his breath. "No more than politicians. I hate aristocrats, no good for nothing except for stealing..."

"And poundin'," Pale Thunder adds with a chuckle and a smile. Hannibal looks to Canter and Storm, smiling weakly and turning his eye back to the glass panel before them.

There is a loud knocking as Sir Samuel pounds his staff on the floor in frustration. It then that the Crayne and the food are led into the chamber. Sir Samuel smiles as he sees the attendants wheel in the carts of food, announcing that following the conclusion of the morning session the midday meal will be served. He wipes the sweat from his furrowed brow, hoping that once frustrations are vented, a more cohesive unit can be formed by the Council

"Here goes..." Crayne thinks to himself. For a second Crayne pauses to think and feels a spark of magical energy flow through his mind as he deactivates his spell. He steps out of his invisibilty and reveals himself to the knights who sit about chatting. The room is reduced to silence as Crayne makes his appearance. He narrows his eyes as he glances about the Knights that face him. His staff glimmers in the light that is cast down through the glass panes in the ceiling.

Emma, Naeron, and Cy, who sit whispering among themselves as the deliberations crumble before them, are reduced to silence and Crayne appears. Naeron is first to see him, and raises his eyebrows. Emma whips her head around violently, wondering what the Mage was up to making such a dramatic entrance!

It is then that Crayne the Mage introduces himself. "I am Crayne, Mage of the Rinder's Six. You are all now sitting in the middle of an assassination attempt and if we are to catch the perpetrators you must act quickly. Explanations will be given later. There are currently men above us waiting to drop down through the glass windows and kill all of you. Also, the food that you see before you is poisoned. The men above us will be dealt with. All I require is for a couple of knights to escort me to the castle. For there evidence lies that is crucial in explaining to you what has gone on here. I know that there are questions but for the sake of the kingdom please for the moment go with me."

Sir Samuel rises from his seat, about to speak. Sensing the need for a few more soothing words, Naeron jumps up from his seat. "Council Knights!" he shouts arms extended, trying to calm the room, "Fortunately for us, according to the Laws of Transistion, Duke Elgar has guaranteed Rinder's Six safe passage while we are here. Therefore we can depend upon the support of his army against any possible assassination attempts." He basked for a moment in his private satisfaction at a properly sprung political trap. "Let us prepare to fend off this attempt. Duke Elgar, always good to his word, would never allow this to go unanswered." Especially with his eyes on the throne, he thought. If he stood back and allowed this attempt to continue, successful or not, he would commit political suicide and would be counted with the enemy, thereby showing himself the traitor Rinder's Six thought him.

"Finally, I would recommend that we quietly send a detachment up to the roof. Lady Emmalya and I will meet with this attachment to properly attack without confusing the assassins with the members of Rinder's Six who have infiltrated this attempt." He looked to Emma to see what she would add. Please let them listen and follow, he thinks.

Pale Thunder suddenly looks up, confused. His eyes meet with Morden's. "You hear dat?" he asks.

"I can't hear anything clearly through these panels, but something is very wrong," Morden replies. He looks down through the panel, seeing Naeron motion to the roof. He narrows his eyes. "It's now or never!" he announces.

"But they haven't eaten yet!" the sidekick protests.

"If we don't act now and kill them, they'll kill us first!" Morden shouts, furious. "Mouser, you ready?!" he calls across the roof to Hannibal. Hannibal looks to Storm and Canter. Storm nods slightly. "Okay! Thunder!"

Morden then looks down, picking up a coil of rope and tying it to his belt. Pale Thunder, already harnessed, takes a deep breath. With one movement he throws his heavy bulk onto the glass panel. At the same time, Hannibal and Storm take off, running as fast as they can across the roof to Morden and Thunder's position.

Morden is taken by surprise: he looks up in confusion from his belt, wondering why Hannibal is careering toward him. "Wha?" he shouts. But it is too late. Hannibal arrives in seconds, grabbing Morden and throwing him through the broken glass panel. At the same time, Storm unsheathes one of his daggers and works at cutting through Pale Thunder's rope. Pale Thunder's large body slams into the table below with a deafening thud, sending a crack through the fine wood. His body is a (large) broken, tangled mess.

The sidekick, thoroughly confused, knows one thing for sure: he is no longer safe. He takes out his knife, but instantly finds Canter's arm around his chest from behind and the leatherman's own knife at his neck.

Hannibal dives through the glass after Morden, free-falling toward the Round Room table below. He grabs the knife he had been clenching in his teeth and hacks at Morden's lifeline. With two quick movements, Morden's rope is cut, and the assassin plummets headfirst onto the round table below. He lands with a loud thud, and everyone in the Round Room jumps back with the impact and the raining glass shards from the broken panel above. Morden's skull is smashed with the head-first impact, sending blood and brains splattering across the table.

The Knights all quickly reach for their swords. Suddenly the scene is chaos. "The doors!" a voice shouts, "they're locked shut!"

Hannibal is jerked to a sudden stop, hanging about seven feet above the table and the splattered Morden below. Sir Masten, sword in hand, leaps onto the table. He raises his sword, preparing to strike through Hannibal as he hangs there, helpless.

"Wait!" Cy shouts. "Do not strike that man!" Cy shoves squires out of the way, running to the center of the room. He stretches his hands out in front of him in an effort to get Masten to halt his actions. The Knight stops, looking confusedly toward Cy. Hannibal holds his breath, staring at the Knights sword, just inches from his face.

Emma pounds one fist into another in frustration. This was not the way it was supposed to happen! They were supposed to address the Council first!

Naeron sees Emma's frustration. "No need to dwell on what has happened. We cannot account for all contingencies. The assassins panicked. Now we must bring this room and this debacle to order before we find our friends hanged for treason along with those thieves!"

Storm stands on the roof, his bow in hand, aimed down at the scene below. Sir Samuel looks up, seeing his figure and his weapon pointed downward at the Knights. "Seize that dwarf!" Samuel shouts, his hoarse voice echoing through the chamber.

Storm's eyebrows shoot up, "they mean me!" he says to himself. With a quick movement, he steps back from the shattered panel so he can no longer be seen from below.

"No!" Emma shouts, partially to get Samuel's attention, and partially out of frustration that the situation is deteriorating as quickly as the Council's deliberations. Was there no part of this Kingdom where the outlook was promising? "That dwarf is of Rinder's Six!"

Samuel whips his head around to face Emma, who stands along the outer wall, at about his eye level (due to the step down into the center of the room). He locks eyes with Emma. Grinding his teeth, he tightens his grip on his staff and pounds it into the floor, bringing the room to a quiet hum.

"There will be order in this meeting!" he shouts furiously. His eyes dart to Sir Judd. "See to the doors," he orders.

Judd looks to Sir Klare, who looks to Cy. The three men make their way quickly to the eastern door. They find it closed shut. Klare hands his weapon to Judd and slams his shoulder into the door, trying to force it open. Cy does the same. Two other men try the same efforts on the western door. After a couple of tries, Cy manages break the wooden door off its hinges, sending an array of splinters into the hallway outside.

"Shannon and Bowman, to the roof!" Samuel orders quickly. The two knights nod and take off, running through the parted crowd and out the door. "This meeting will be orderly!" Samuel screams, his face red with intensity.

"The gods be graceful, Sir Samuel," a voice calls loudly in a somewhat condescending tone from the western door. Samuel spins around, sword in hand, to face the door. All eyes in the room follow his movements. It was Lady Hannah. "What is going on here?"

"Lady Hannah," Sir Samuel stammers, "I...we..." he takes a deep breath and swallows hard. Then he lowers his sword to his side and turns slowly to face Crayne, Emma and Naeron. He looks back over his shoulder to Hannah. "We were just now going to answer that very question..." Samuel looks up to the roof, but neither Storm nor Canter can be seen. Hannibal still hangs from the ceiling--upside down--by his ankle, held at sword-point by Sir Masten. Sir Samuel then lowers his gaze on Crayne, Emma, and Naeron. "...weren't we."

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