Outer Ward
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You stand in the busy outer ward of Castle Anvard, full of people seeing to the
needs of king and kingdom. There are market stalls along the outer wall,
bustling with merchants and shoppers. Grooms work in the stables, tending to
the horses there, and you hear the occasional bark of a dog from the kennels.
The sounds of hammer hitting iron rings out from the blacksmith shop. There are
stairs leading to the gate towers on the northern and southern corners of the
outer curtain. To the east is the outer gatehouse, and the road leading into
the realm of Archenland, and to the west another gate, leading to the inner
gatehouse, the inner ward, and the main keep of Anvard.
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Avery turns around and waves toward the gate. “Het Noorden. Cole and Tyren have gone. Go, go!”
Colin nods and departs through the gates.
Lune strides through the ward toward the gatehouse, leading a group of his personal guard. His face is grim.
Vinri’s brows fly up as she sees the king, leaving her earlier sentence unfinished.
Avery looks up and sees Lune. She moves out of his way, curtseying a bit.
Lune nods to Avery as he passes, calling out, “Send every hand able to help to Het Noorden, I charge thee!” Putting action to word, he departs out the front gates with his guard.
Lanisen leaves the kennels, glancing around the chaotic ward. He bows automatically toward the king.
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Het Noorden
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You stand inside a circle of cottages, mostly in good repair, with thatched
roofs and solid looking, white-washed walls. Each one has a tidy path leading
to the front door, and a small garden at the rear. In the center of the circle
is a firepit, used by all in the community. In this settlement live many of
the citizens of Andale, serving the needs of King and Castle.
A path to the southeast leads out to Andale, and is well traveled by those on
their way to and from the well, or the castle, or the shops.
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Haft addresses Sir Colin. “Sir, that’s Aaron’s house.” He then turns and rejoins the other soldiers running back and forth to the well.
Megren, once she has finished distributing buckets, hurries into the neighborhood. Seeing that Sir Tyren has taken charge of the houses nearest the burning one, she moves to those further away, knocking on and then immediately opening doors to warn any stragglers to vacate the area or help with the water.
Cole halts just shy of the cottage to the right as he hears Tyren’s question. A terrible question comes over his face as he looks quite ready to find out if there are any in there. Standing there a brief second, he decides and adjusts his course towards the flames. Raising an arm in a futile attempt to shield himself from the heat, he slowly attempts to make his way towards the door.
Lune arrives with his guard, taking in the scene in an instant. “Form a line!” he bellows. “Pass the water down the line!”
Haft moves to folow the king’s command, passing buckets to the next man in line.
Colin blanches when he sees his brother attempting to go into the engulfed building. “/COLE!/ /NO!/” He dives forward, blocking his brother and seizing his arm.
Tyren emerges from one of the nearby cottages assisting an elderly man out, before passing him over to another villager to continue his work. He frowns as he catches sight of Cole’s approach toward the blaze, brow furrowed deeply even as he pounds on the next door.
Cole doesn’t have much resistance in him as the heat was already starting to become unbearable. He stumbles back as his brother seizes his arm.
Megren goes through a few empty houses before finding a pair of young girls, which she leads out of their house, kneeling to give them a brief list of instructions. She faces the fire so that they face away from it. As she starts to lead them toward town, another woman, similar of face and hair to the children, comes rushing up to her. Moments later, the women is hustling the girls away, and Megren is back to the houses.
Lune takes his own place in the line, drawing up bucket after bucket of water and shouting encouragement to the men and women on either side. As Colin shouts, he looks toward his nephews.
Colin shoves his brother further from the blaze. “Too bad…it’s too bad.” he says, staring mesmerized at the flames.
Colin mumbles “I did …”, to Colin.
Tyren’s path eventually intersects with Megren’s, and he pauses just long enough to tell her, “If any seem to be in need of care, send them to the ward. Lady Avery is there, and the healers should be on the alert,” before he continues his circuit – and even at this distance the heat is enough to make the sweat pour off his brow.
Megren nods to indicate her understanding of the instruction and moves on.
Haft continues passing buckets, his eyes alternating between the blaze and the king.
Lune, between buckets, shouts to Haft, “Whose cottage?”
Cole finally begins to protest, finding his footing and grabbing his brother’s arm in a vice-like grip. “/COLIN/ there could be /PEOPLE/ in there!” he shouts over the blaze, eyes wide.
Haft shouts back, “Aaron’s, Your Majesty!”
Lune casts a quick glance around those assembled. “Has he been seen?” he calls out to the assembly at large.
Haft exclaims, “I saw him not half an hour before the fire, but not since, Sire!”
Colin grabs his brother’s arm. “He’s /NOT/ in there, Cole! SMOKE SIGNALS! This is for /me/! He is /not/ in there! This is for ME.” he chokes.
A small family hurries out of another cottage, Tyren following behind them with a boy who can’t be more than four in his arms, face buried in the knight’s tunic. After reaching a safe distance, he says a few words in a tone too low to be heard over the crackle of the fire save for those near him as he passes the boy over to his mother. He calls over to his liege, “None, Your Majesty!”
Megren, when she is sure the houses have been cleared of people, recruits a young onlooker to help her go through and herd pets and livestock into the furthest house from the flames, or at least to be retied to the fence there.
Cole’s mouth opens, eyes widening even further as Colin forces this information to sink in. He looks back to the fire and slowly releasing his brother’s arm. “For you. ” he echoes, breathing out these words. Shaking his head to clear the shock, he quickly takes in the scene around them and looks back to his brother. “Help the others. ”
Lune continues hauling bucket after bucket, unflagging, and watches the evacuation progress. “Sir Colin, to me!”
Haft continues passing buckets down the line to the men beyond him.
Colin stumbles away from his brother and answers the king’s call, moving to his side. “Your Majesty.” He says.
Lune says, handing another bucket off to the first man in line and hauling up the next, “The night is too cold for some of these little ones. Take them to the castle and see that there is a fire lit while this is resolved.”
Colin bows and moves to obey. “At once, Your Majesty.” he begins to gather some of the older children to aid him with the smaller ones.
Cole steals one final glance at the fire before turning and scanning the crowd. “Tyren!” he calls out, eyes searching as he begins moving to find him.
Tyren finishes his own rounds of evacuation, and that seen to, makes his way through the crowd to Cole. “Here!” he calls out, or at least half of it, the other half cut off by a sharp cough into the crook of his elbow.
Cole’s eyes dart to the response, moving to intercept him in the crowd. “Is everyone out?!”
Lune shouts, as the flames begin to lick out greedily for the next thatched roof, “Get that corner!”
Tyren nods, breathing a bit hard. “Every cottage checked and cleared out, yes.”
Megren carries a cat who is expressing its unhappiness in sharp dangerous wiggles at arm’s length to the designated animal safe-house, tosses it in, and shuts the door firmly and swiftly after it.
Colin picks up a small boy and leads the little group back to the castle.
One of the soldier’s at the end of the line moves to obey the king’s order.
Cole nods, finally taking a moment to catch his breath and take in the full scene. His expression is ashen as he once again locks his gaze on the cottage. “Who’s house was that Tyren..?”
Lune’s eyes scan the crowd and settle on a guard who is doubled over coughing. “Perth! Come out of the smoke!” He glances around, still hauling buckets, and looks to Haft. “Rags, are there rags?”
Haft says, “No, Your Majesty. We didn’t bring any. We can ask the villagers.”
Lune says, “Do so, quickly.”
Tyren gives Cole a gentle push, beginning to guide him further out from the cottage in question, as he replies, “Aaron’s, according to the guardsmen.”
Haft leaves the line as the two men next to him close the gap. He jogs down the street beyond the reach of the blaze and then changes direction, running behind the nearest house.
Cole follows without resistance. “Any clue what started the fire?! ”
Megren taps out one of the guards near the house so that he can get away from the smoky air. The young man who has been helping her begins to help running empty buckets and pitchers back to the well.
Haft runs back up the street, arms full of some woman’s washing. “Rags, Sire!”
Tyren replies, “None that met my eyes.” He turns aside to loose another cough before he continues, “We shall have to hope we may find some answers when the blaze is out.”
Lune says, “Good!” He hands off the duty of hauling up buckets to the next man in line and seizes a raggedy-looking tunic from the top of the pile. This he begins methodically ripping into long strips. He dips the first into the nearest bucket of water and hands it to the unfortunate Perth. “Across thy face, friend,” he orders. “It will block the worst of the smoke.” He dampens another and passes it to Tyren with the same orders.
Haft catches on at once and joins the king in tearing and passing out strips of cloth.
Cole nods, frowning deeply. “That we shall. “As the rags are begin passed out, he grabs one from Haft and places it over his mouth.
Tyren nods as he does as instructed, making the “Thank you, Sire,” come out slightly muffled.
Megren pulls her tunic up over her nose until such time as a rag can be brought to her.
Lune destroys the rest of the tunic for masks, handing them out to those nearest the blaze first. Once everybody has received a makeshift smoke-mask, he ties one across his own face and turns toward the burning cottage.
Haft follows suit, then returns to his place in the bucket line, leaving the remainder of the wash on the ground.
Cole proceeds to join in the line himself as he continues holding the cloth over his mouth.
Tyren ties the cloth over his nose and mouth, then taps the shoulder of a man beginning to visibly flag, taking his place in the line.
Megren ties her rag behind her neck and pulls it up over her face, helping to dampen the grass and adjacent roofs in order that the fire not catch elsewhere while their concentration is on the already burning house.
Lune takes his turn at the end of the line, taking buckets and carrying them the last several yards to fling on the burning house. “Everybody back!” he shouts as the flame-weakened structure begins to fold in on itself. “Get back!”
Haft and the others with him fall back at the king’s command, watching the blaze.
Tyren does so as well, instinctively flinging an arm up to shield himself.
Cole drops his bucket instantly. Balling back and dropping to a knee, he puts up both arms and ducks his head behind them as the building begins to crumble.
Megren and the others working on the houses nearby scatter, their movement somewhat inhibited by being trapped between buildings. Most of them end up diving out of the way of the burning debris just in the time. Megren lands on her hands and knees and covers her head.
Lune lurches toward a man standing in the path of a falling segment of wall and drags him back by his collar. A spray of sparks flies up where the wall lands, and Lune flings up his arm to shield his face.
Haft half-leaps forward, seeing the king in peril, but he’s too far away to intervene.
Tyren exclaims, “Your Majesty!!”
Cole catches sight of the wall collapsing near the King, his eyes widening in horror. Forgetting his own danger, he leaps up and begins sprinting towards Lune. “/MAJESTY!/” He roars.
Megren gets up with the few men and women near her, taking up a blanket from a laundry line. The house has leant to their near side, and the debris still burns, dangerously near the closest cottage. Megren hands the blanket off to someone to soak at the well and try to smother the flames.
Lune and the man regain their balance, unharmed but breathless. “Peace,” Lune gasps to Cole. “More water!”
Haft grabs up his dropped bucket.
The soldiers and villagers reform the line.
Cole halts just shy of his uncle, giving him a once over before nodding and turning to the others. “More water! ” he shouts. “Bring more water! ”
Tyren complies immediately, taking his place again and passing the shout down the line. “Keep it up!” he adds. “Nearly there!”
Megren urges a man who has been, probably not permanently but still dangerously, burned in the collapse to make off to the healers back at the castle. She sends a weary-looking teenaged girl to make sure he makes it.
Lune, whose beard was rather frizzled by the blast when the walls collapsed, directs the line to shift toward Megren’s side of the house.
The men and women in the line move at the king’s order, continuing to pass buckets and throw them upon the flames.
Cole watches the line adjust before turning back to the King, examining him once again. “Are you sure you are alright, your Majesty?” he asks, eyes filled with concern.
Tyren casts a glance over to his king and Cole, then moves to a spot closer toward the front of the line, the better to call out toward Megren, “All well over there?”
Lune says, “Quite all right, Chancellor.” He surveys the wreckage of the house, then adjusts his mask and carries the next bucket nearer to Megren. Slowly but surely, the blaze is beginning to subside.
Haft wipes his brow with his sleeve in between buckets.
Megren calls back from across the wreckage. “We could use more wet blankets, Sir. I can manage the injured if you can gather those?”
Tyren relays this response to those near him, and once replaced in the line, he and a few others move to gather a few more blankets and soak them in further attempts to smother the flames.
Cole nods at the King’s response, accepting it. Running a hand with his hair, he eyes the house as the flames beginning to come under control.
Lune carries bucket after bucket alongside villagers and soldiers and guards, pausing to wipe his forehead once it is clear that the fire cannot progress outside the damp boundary they have made for it.
Haft continues passing buckets methodically, eyes straying to the fallen house and the others working to douse or stamp out the remainder of the flames.
Megren checks through the others who were standing with her, sending those with injuries to the castle. What skin she has bare is very red from the heat, and there is a black spot on her livery where something has glanced off of her, but she seems otherwise uninjured. When she is satisfied her companions have been taken care of, she returns to aid in the containment of the fire.
Lune backs toward Cole, continuing to watch the fire. “It will continue to smolder through the night, I should think,” he says, “but I believe it can spread no further.”
Tyren passes a few of the wet blankets to Megren, and sets to work himself with the ones he keeps in his possession.
Cole’s brow is furrowed, expression grave as he nods once more. “It might be prudent to leave a couple guards posted here overnight. ” he pauses, jaw clenching as he leans in towards the King, keeping his voice low.
Cole mumbles “I have reason to believe this fire was no accident”, to Lune.
Cole mumbles “I have … … … … … was … …”, to Lune.
Haft looks down the line toward the remnants of the fire. He’s got some soot on his nose, though less than men like Perth, who were further down the line.
Lune bends his head near to listen. His face darkens, and he does not answer for a moment. “Yes,” he says finally. “Guards tonight, and perhaps after as well.”
Megren muses as she aids Tyren, “We will need to find a way to keep warm the people who’s blankets we have taken.”
Tyren nods in response, stifling another cough in the process. “We shall see what spares we can find and distribute.”
Cole nods firmly, expression growing harder as he surveys the fire once more. “By your leave, you highness, I would like to see to a few things at the Castle. ”
Lune says, “Very well, Lord Cole. You may tell the children in the hall that all is well and their parents will collect them shortly.”
The men at the end of the bucket line begin to slow their pace, looking for direction.
Cole nods once more. “Consider it done, your Majesty. ” He gives him a short bow, turning quickly and moving towards Andale, eyes flashing with anger.
Megren inquires to another guard whether anyone has gone looking for the arsonist. He seems not to know.
Lune turns away from the house, looking tired and disheveled and very sooty. He takes off his smoke-mask to speak. “Well done, friends,” he calls hoarsely. “It is contained, but we need men to stand watch to ensure that it does not return to life in the night.” He glances around for volunteers.
Perth and a couple of other guards by him raise hands, as do a few villagers.
Megren steps forward with Perth.
Tyren tugs down his mask as he makes his way to his king’s side, and after another cough, says, “I will stand wherever you see fit, Your Majesty.”
Haft makes a movement forward, then seems to change his mind. He pulls the rag from his own face.
Lune purses his lips at Tyren and Perth and others who suffered from the smoke. He gives Megren a considering look, then points at two village men and one of his personal guard who kept far enough away from the blaze as to be entirely unaffected. “Thou, thou. Thou. Watch the fire, I charge you, and sound the bell should it look to spread again. And keep watch for this man Aaron.”
Tyren gives a small nod in acceptance of the king’s decision – and, perhaps, gratitude as well.
Megren bows her head, gathering her hands behind her back to await any further orders for those not assigned to watch the fire.
Haft steps forward, approaching the king. “Your Majesty, I saw Aaron not long before the alarm went up. There was no smoke then that I saw. I think perhaps Sir Colin will wish for additional details from me.
Lune nods to Haft. “Art dismissed to report to him, then, guardsman.” He scans the crowd. “As for the rest of you… good work was done here tonight. Return to thy homes, or to the castle. If thou hast had belongings destroyed–” he looks rather ruefully at the scrap of tunic fabric in his hand. “Then we will replace them from our own purse. If art burned or injured, thou mayst receive treatment from Master Adrian at the castle.”
Haft bows and departs swiftly in the direction of Anvard.
Tyren helps direct traffic, as it were, as the crowd begins to disperse, and as it thins and the metaphorical dust settles, he returns to Lune to deliver a bow. “Should you have further need of me in the coming days, Your Majesty, I am, as ever, at your service.”
Megren helps to clean up stray rags and buckets.
Lune claps Tyren on the shoulder. “Hast our thanks,” he says. “For the moment, our command is to report to Adrian. He will have something for the smoke.”
Tyren bows again, and with a simple, “As you say, Sire,” is off.
Most of the buckets and pitchers are gathered up by the guards issuing toward the castle, leaving rags and debris to be cleaned up. Megren does her best to gather all this in the place where the house had been.
Lune makes his way to Megren as Tyren departs. “And thou, guardswoman?” he asks, concerned. “Hast been injured? Thou wert nearer still than I when the walls fell, and I am not entirely unscathed.” He rubs his frizzled beard ruefully.
Megren bows as he approaches, bringing her left foot behind her right to do so more respectfully. She tries to look grave at the sight of his beard and opts to look down at the dark spot on her clothing instead. “Nothing serious, your Majesty.”
Lune seems to guess what she is thinking and grins wearily. He claps her on the shoulder and says, “Well done, guardswoman. I would have thee report to Adrian as well before the night is out.”
Megren nods, grinning in full at the glimpse of the King’s humor. “I will, your Majesty.”
Lune inclines his head to her and moves off to check on others, mopping his sooty face with his scrap of damp rag.
Megren observes him go with a thoughtful tilt of her head, followed a moment later by another grin. With a renewed vigor, she trots off to finish her work before returning to the castle.
King Lune 