(LOG)Raegnold's surrender

(02:02) Drysllthen rode out on his heavy bay warhorse, the beast stoic and majestic as he kept it to a slow walk to procede to the middle ground, out of arrows' reach from both sides. Himself, he was garbed in his armour, heavy mail and breastplate beneath a dyed leather surcoat in the hereditary blue and black of Valenti. Pauldrons and greaves and helm were all polished for this meeting. The sword at his back did not gleam however, dark and knicked, worn from use by both his father and himself. One arm wrapped tightly about the young woman before him, the Princess to this fine castle. He'd bound her wrists before they'd set off, and her ankles were chained together beneath the horse's belly, leaving little chance for escape. At his back, his generals and personal guard rode with him, the Valenti banner flying overhead. Drysllthen's men all had the look of experience about them, and back far beyond them their combined armies were arrayed. The collective might of Nharati had aligned itself with the Valentis, and Drysllthen led it with his uncle at his side. Trumpets heralded his arrival at the center of the field, and there he sat, tall, surveying what would soon be his.

(02:07) Raegnold sported a grim expression... the past few days had crushed his last hopes of fending off these Valenti bastards, much as he had tried to remain optimistic as his people starved without supplies coming into the castle. While he would have liked to take one final swing at the smug little pricks on his doorstep, as a king, he knew that discretion was the better part of valor and that his family's lives hung in the balance. The sight of his abducted daughter compounded this notion in his head, and stilled his sword hand, which remained perched on but not gripping the hilt of his blade. He stood with bodyguards on either side of him and regarded the invaders flatly-- he'd come to terms with what had to be done, but that didn't make it appeal any more. His greeting is mild, rather than a challenge, "Well met." His immediate interest was his daughter, however. "Are you unhurt, Sorynn?"

(02:11) Sorynn was not pleased. She had hoped to at least ride upon the castle on her own stead. Several times as they shackled and binded her she pleaded for it. When Drysllthen slid up behind her, her protests ceased. Sea-greens scoured the gathered mass for her dear horse, but she couldn't find it among the wargiants. She rode the way, uncomfortable and in severe silence. Her heart leapt, however, when home rose into view, a smile nearly brushing her lips. Surely they'd let her down and into the welcome arms of her family. When her father came into view, tears gleamed in her eyes. "Yes, I am well Father." She swallowed down the guilt she felt. Drysllthen demanded a performance, so the tears were swallowed as well, and a pleasant smile found its place on her quivering lips. She wanted to say more, but stayed her tongue, waiting for the men to continue.

(02:15) Tyltin V's small, agile mare pawed confidently around the more weighty destriers surrounding it. She'd served him well these last few years, moving him swiftly in and out of danger, though he normally left her well behind battle-lines. He was dressed in his normal battle regalia: naught but leather trousers, thick boots, and of course his trusted blade. The rest of him stood bare in the high sun, vicious scars mapping out his intimate kisses with death over the years. Perhaps to compensate for his lack of familial pride in his military dress, Tyltin had died his normally-white horse a brilliant blue all over, with lavendar in her mane and tail. His own hair was close-cropped again, mere bristles against his skull, the freckles of his abdomen bleeding together into a coating of brown. None of his own men accompanied, all camping outside Valys proper's pallisade, awaiting his return. His eyes gleamed with anticipation, veins rising in his arms, shoulders and chest. Tyltin V's lips were still, waiting for his King to address the imposter and his men.

(02:20) Skallagrim in the front of any castle was a sure sign it needed redecorating. Even with the wind licking at his stringy hair he managed to look worse. He was respectfully still, but the gaze he levied on the sight of the King's bound daughter was not what a proper man ought to wear for such a sympathetic sight. His proximity to his King was imposing, but didn't threaten with martial challenge as much as a subconcious fear, perhaps of communicable disease or some other revolting malady. He sized up the "guests" of his Lord and Master the way a cutpurse lusts over his quarry but frequently returned to the sight of the prone captive woman. Even with the din of the wind, his reptilian breathing could be faintly heard.

(02:25) Drysllthen's blue eyes lifted toward the tower heights, studying the looming black stone of the place he had spent his life working to attain, at the place where he'd been born, and slowly they moved down to regard Raegnold intently. His hand about Sorynn was possessive. "Well met," he returned, his voice stern. "You know, of course, my cousin Prince Tyltin Valenti." He gestured to the shirtless one at his side, respectful nod offered. The introductions continued through his Generals more quickly, and he gave the pretender King a faint smile. "We've had the rare pleasure of having your daughter in our company these weeks, but be assured, we've taken good care of her."

(02:30) Raegnold looked relieved to hear that his daughter was well, though his expression soon soured as the invader spoke. He heard the man out, listening carefully before speaking. "It pleases me to hear it." He did not seem in the mood for smalltalk, and cut immediately to the chase. "I am prepared to yield the castle, but my terms must first be met." He eyed Tyltin... a shirtless man on a purple horse. These Valentis were a bizzarre breed. His pause-for-emphasis completed, he met Drysllthen's eyes grimly, and spoke again, "First... the women of my family... I will have your oath that my wife and daughters will not be harmed. You will arrange for them to be married as befits their stations. Second, I will accept exile to a land of your choice, never to return to Nharati or to set foot in any of its ally nations. Third, the castle's garrison and servants are to be given a choice between exile, again, to a place of your choosing, or to pledge their allegiance to you." He paused again, allowing a moment for his terms to sink in before he continued. "I harbor no delusions about who will ultimately win this battle... but the cost will be dear if you should choose not to accept my terms. I have placed alchemical explosives and stacks of flammable materials soaked in oil around the castle. Should you decide to try to breach the gates, my men have orders to light the place afire. I've no doubt the sight of your armies and familial home reduced to ash might sour the victory somewhat." ... to say the least.
(02:37) Raegnold: (Note-- they might notice that all windows are boarded up inside the castle. Anyone who's inside when the place goes boom probably isn't getting out. :-P)

(02:40) Sorynn sat, stunned as her father ticked off his demands. She wanted to plead to him to reword the marriage part, for these men did not see her station. She wanted to beg him exile for her as well, so she might travel with him, away from all this. Mouth dropped at the mention of flame. In her mind she saw all of her fine things going up in smoke and ash. "Oh father." She sighed beneath her breath. For the moment, she forgot that she sat chained to Drysllthen's horse. Forgot fully that her life was in their hands. She glanced up to the castle, just out of her reach, where her luxurious bed and trinkets called to her. Her head lowered, eyes closing, and teeth visciously bit onto her tongue to keep from speaking what she ought not.

(02:46) Tyltin V looked upon the distant rocky craig with something approaching curiosity, understanding that he'd been born there just as surely as Drysllthen, though nearly a year before. His most distant dream-memories were of tents and camps and armed men, though; his first toy had been a wooden sword, crafted for his own hand (or so he assumed) that he couldn't remember acquiring. Blinking back his reverie he nodded at his own introduction, fingers tightening on the mare's mane, for he didn't shoe nor bridle his horses, and only deigned to saddle them out of necessity. At the usurper's glance the Swordking smiled, bright eyes glinting with desire as he thought of what was to come. On mention of surrender, though, his expression soured to horror. "And Gottrik?" He breathed out-of-turn. "Will he yield so readily?" Worry laced his tone; his mare knickered when his thighs tightened about her flanks.

(02:52) Skallagrim uttered not a sigh nor a melancholy breath, or any other sign so human, when his King announced the terms... His gaunt face was a timeline of alternating disinterest and perverse pleasure. He only smiled at the little victory of his King's clever forethought, but wore wide scheming eyes when the prospect of the future came up among the conversation; he pursed his thin lips in a silent mockery of the Valentis, particularly the bare-chested horseman, and spread that lecherous smile across them again when laying eyes on the bound woman. He hoped to catch a glimpse of her distressed expression at thoughts of her future, and schemed what advantage he could take.

(02:59) Drysllthen listened to the demands curiously. Raegnold was not in much position to extend such terms. When he'd finished, the Valenti King's lips quirked faintly. "You threaten me with blowing yourself up? I should thank you for doing my work for me for your women, your garrison, your servants, and yourself will all be inside should you chose that route. Or.." His broad shoulders shrugged. "We'll have you as you flee the flames." While there had been arrogance in the last words, his voice fell into plain statement. "You know your fate, Raegnold, and one must not try to flee these things. My armies can wait beyond range while your people starve just as dead." His hold on Sorynn tightened. "So this is what I offer. You give your life for your daughters' and your wife's. The garrison and the servants will be given the option of swearing to me or death, with the knowledge that the fighting men who swear to me will all be sent on outward attacks and not stationed within the castle walls." The younger claimed King met the elder's eyes. "I will not have you and your men wandering through out the country side fomenting my enemies."

(02:59) Raegnold might have instructed his man to cut it out with the letchery, had he been paying attention to his own people-- as it was, he had more pressing things to think about. He had had the agreements drawn up ahead of time (Sorynn's position clearly noted as "Princess"), for signing by Drysllthen in plain view of the new and old kings' people-- it wouldn't do to start out a rulership an oathbreaker! He had considered asking permission to take his wife and daughters with him, but exile would be hard-- no fine clothing, no shelter, no food... he could hardly subject the delicate women to such a life for his own selfish desire to keep them all by his side. He regarded Tyltin and gave a shrug. "My people have the king's decrees... anyone who should stand in open defiance has committed treason." He surely didn't need to elaborate on what happened to traitors. He regarded the other prince with a thin smile. "I have no intention of fleeing, Drysllthen." He assured the other man. "I am well aware of the things my position does and does not afford me." He hadn't had much else to think about recently. "The fact remains that you can have your castle intact or not... and I hope I don't need to remind you how quickly wildfire spreads. Can your armies outrun a firestorm, my lord? Can you?" The fallen king smiled thinly-- he had resigned himself to dying, but he would not go quietly into the night, so to speak. "Your refusal to show mercy to the people within these walls, many of them women, children, servants, will not gain you the peoples' trust or admiration. You have yet to commit any great atrocities against the people, and I hope you do not underestimate the bolstering effect this has had on your popularity." he eyed the less popular Swordking for effect, hoping Drysllthen would catch his meaning. He considered again. "I will surrender myself to you for the lives of my people, and my family. Those who choose exile will give oaths never to take up arms against you or your allies." He folded his arms across his chest, awaiting Drysllthen's retort.

(03:10) Tyltin V cared not one little bit about the elaborate chess match the two kings tried at playing, with stroke and counterstroke. Terms and entreaties were given and retracted, all amounting to words. He wanted action. He needed blood, of which he'd had too little since meeting Gottrik some months past. He could handle the castle burning to the ground with--nearly--everyone else in Nharati along for the bon, as long as he got his dirty streets and clanging steel. Jade eyes pierced the pretender king, keen on his reply, his concerns not assuaged by the politician's stern turns of phrase. His own fingers tingled in the mare's mane, itching to reach for his sword, though he managed to school himself. It was the answer he sought, and when he received it he was not impressed. "And you have decreed he lay down his arms?" Frantic now, or nearly so, it took much of the Swordking's discipline to keep from tearing off toward Valys as quickly as possible.

(03:12) Sorynn's eyes caught on Skallagrim's. Her sea-greens clouded over in sudden fury. Why were his eyes roaming her when he should be assisting her father? Teeth ground hard into her tongue, wanting nothing more than to jump from the horse and give the man a physical as well as verbal thrashing. Of course, there would be no horse fleeing for her, so she had to settle for a dark glare sent his way and her arms moved to cross over her chest, hiding herself as best as possible. When the counter offer was made and the hold on her tightened, she froze. All the color drained from her face and eyes held wide with horror. Don't do it, father. They'll just kill us afterward. She thought grimly, but dared not speak it. The tangle of her father's words confused her, but she realized he planned to die one way or the other, while she had done what she had in the foolish unattainable hope of saving him. In that dreadful moment, she couldn't help the tears that slid down her face.

(03:15) Skallagrim showed the first signs of shifting in his boots, perhaps buzzing at the sudden inequity of his Master's future, and consequently of his own. He seemed, also to almost smell the blood welling up on the half-naked horseman's feverish mind. An early martial conflict would be no good at this juncture, no good at all, even an idiot wracker of his variety could tell that plainly. He set his hand closer on his belt to the loop of his garish blade, but there was too a stillness borne in the hope that nobody's goose was cooked yet still.

(03:28) Drysllthen's brow quirked questioningly at the remark that he would not flee. Had he not just suggested it? Tyltin's agitation at his side drew a small glare. There would be blood elsewhere if not here, though he doubted the whole of the garrison would go quietly into exile. The words of the firestorm and threats and appeals to his mercy brought no change to his stern face. He wanted one thing, and when it was offered, he inclined his head. "That I will accept, but if you are to give your life, you must first see to it that the threat of fire is removed from the castle. Your surrender will be in earnest. I offer to stay my armies from the castle for three days so you may do this. On the third day, any who wish to swear oaths to me will accompany you to this spot once more. This includes your wife and daughters, save Sorynn who will remain with us. Drysllthen paused a moment for the words to digest. "As for the exiles, they will be given their chance to leave then. Any who remain within castle walls and resist our possession of the castle or Valys will be met with force."

(03:34) Raegnold shook his head at the mention of his daughter. "That is not the agreement, my lord. Sorynn is a member of my family, and as such included in the terms I have laid out. She is a young girl-- are you to be the sort of king who abuses young, unarmed girls?" he asked incredulously. "Your deeds will not go unheard of." He might shoot down some of the castle's birds-- but he couldn't get them all. Word would get out. He ignored Tyltin for the time being-- having taken note that the Swordking's reputation was neither undeserved, nor exaggerated.

(03:42) Drysllthen had the look of a man whose patience was being tried by a small child. "She is included in the terms you laid out for your family, Raegnold. I meant she would stay in our company thus not accompanying you to the field that day. We'll keep her lest you play us false, but not exclude her from the terms. She has nothing to fear should you do as you've said." He glanced down at the tearful woman, and would have felt sorrow for her had he not known the truth. "She has been unharmed thus far, as you can see for yourself. So..unless you intend something else, she is perfectly safe..." His head tilted, eyes locked on Raegnold's.

(03:47) Sorynn continued to let the tears fall as she listened to the men. Her father was as good as dead and she was already mourning him. She found herself nodding along with Drysllthen's words. "They've cared for me well, Father. Just as he said. No one has laid a hand on me will ill intent." Sea-greens looked over the old man, her heart aching to go and wrap her arms around him one last time, to cry into his chest as she did when she was younger and scraped her knee. But her shackles and the arm around her kept her firmly in place. "I'll be alright." She tried to assure him through her blurred vision, trying desperately to keep the tremors from her voice. "I love you, Father." She said softly, though it could have easily been lost in the breeze.

(03:51) Tyltin V, when he received no reply, drew higher up in his saddle though his less-than-impressive height and smaller horse didn't give him the advantage in elevation. Jade eyes threatened to roll as the two men talked one another to death, and he found himself missing Kerrich, who'd no doubt be humping the back of a slate as he rushed to scribe the passed words and codify any new agreement. Snorting, he grimaced. "If all you've left is castle business, cousin, I shall be off. I have a town to heel." And though he wanted nothing more than to turn and be off, he waited for Drysllthen's leave, his very continued presence testament enough to his supplication.

(03:53) Raegnold breathed a sigh of relief-- with the futures of his people and his family secured, he had served his purpose. He suddenly felt terribly old, and ever more resigned to his fate. The fallen king looked up and met his daughter's eyes a moment with a fond smile-- perhaps he'd heard her, perhaps not. "The castle will be cleared of danger in three days' time. When you return, I will surrender to you, and you will allow my people to choose submission or exile. Those who still openly oppose you will be no longer be freedom fighters, but traitors against the crown, and will be treated as such." He motioned with one hand and a scribe exited from behind the gate. Raegnold asked the man without looking away from the Valentis, "Did you get all of that?" At his nod, Raegnold accepted a sheet of rolled parchment. "I'm sure, as a man of honor, you will have no problem with affixing your seal to a written copy of our agreement."

(03:56) Skallagrim glazed over with a stupid, savage blankness. He licked his lips for want of any other useful occupation at that time; such a man could only personally accompany a King over the dead bodies of virtually -every- decent man, which was clearly the case in Raegnold's regime. He watched the odd warrior leave in a huff, a scowl on his positively ermine face. He hoped that they would meet again.
(03:58) Skallagrim[ Let's change that "watched him leave in a huff" to "watch him make preparations to leave in a huff" and call that post remotely logical]

(04:01) Drysllthen was surprised when the lass spoke, his eyes darting down to her at her support of his position. Something in his hold on her became more protective, but Tyltin's restlessness drew his attention. "Be off, if you wish, cousin," he assented, nodding in the direction of his troops. He knew this posturing made the man madder than he already was, no sense in worsening it. It was strange to have Tyltin asking his leave. With that settled, he fixed his gaze on Raegnold once more, unsurprised to see the scribe appear. Surely someone in his one party had been scribbling down the terms as well. "Of course not." Taking hold of it, he perused the terms, making certain nothing had been added or omitted from what they'd agreed to. Satisfied, he placed his seal on the document. "I require a copy of this for myself as well with your seal."

(04:09) Sorynn fell silent, gaze lingering over her father, etching his smile into memory. The thoughts of the game were long gone, reality much to stern and unforgiving to be ignored. She reigned in her tears before they gave way to sobs, determined to be as collected as her father seemed to be. She was an Esdale, it was time to behave as one once more. With a deep breath, she straightened herself so she sat tall on the horse, back straight, chin up. She didn't want her father's perhaps last look of her being her tears. She wanted him to know he had given her all he could, that the strength of his youth carried on in her. Her smile was fond, and finally without trembling.

(04:11) Tyltin V hardly waited for his newfound liege's assent, and once it was granted, his smaller horse proved her worth when she twisted with sleek grace and bolted over the forested path, dark tailhairs flapping behind her. Fewer scars marred the man's tanned back, his mind working quickly. Surely the defenders' continued resistance was a front, to be melted as soon as word reached them of the newfound agreement, but Tyltin would have his blood in droplets if not in torrents. He would make sure of that.

(04:13) Raegnold nodded again. He had a good scribe! The contract was as they had discussed, without omission or addition. As the parchment was retuned to him, he spoke. "This copy will be held by my family. I will have an identical copy drawn up and will deliver it to you with my seal affixed upon our next meeting." He glanced at Sorynn one last time, eyes willing her to understand his choices--the best ones he had, given the situation. He bowed to the new king, "By your leave then, your Majesty."

(04:18) Drysllthen shook his head at waiting for the treaty in writing. "Send it out as soon as it is complete so that I may have it for my records." He'd take no argument on the point. "Have your messenger fly a flag of truce, and he will be met here to retrieve it." With that, he settled back in his saddle, his arm around Sorynn still as his hand tightened on his reins. "I will see you in three days hence, Raegnold." He nodded sharply with his assent for their departure, waiting until they had turned away to ride off with Sorynn, not a word spoken on his way back to his tent.