The Shining Wyrm

8.7

The site of muster would be in Rochford.

Already Mother was arranging for grain and barley from the rest of the Barony to be gathered in the Fortress’ holds. And the ovens of the kitchens and the town set to the task of preparing rations.

There were missives being sent to the rest of Viznove to see if further supply could be carted in from neighboring territories to assist with keeping the army fed and supplied while the muster continued.

Already there were small groups of footmen, captains and levies arriving from all over Viznove being bunked in newly opened rooms.

Joining sparring and drills in the courtyard.

A few even volunteered to add even more numbers and veracity to the occasional melee with Jewel.

Or work in groups practicing marches up and down the streets of the village, in the fallow fields or, as often as not, through the many corridors and walls of Fort Rochford.

The stones all over the fortress felt like they were waking up to the activity. Familiar, long-unfelt steps of marching men stirring something in the old rooms and floors.

Deep memories from long ago now sparking fresh.

Only Jewel seemed to notice.

Not even Tsulogothulan was able to recognize the history in the stones. But they were also not surprised when Jewel mentioned it.

“I’ve known a few wizards who would mention such. But Stone has never been my way or truth.”

And that was all Jewel heard on the matter. Then again it's not like she had a lot of time for lessons in Wizardry.

It was thirty days before the muster for Viznove was scheduled to be done in full. When all the Countess’ armies would converge in or around Rochford. And then set forth to claim an old Cantorian Fortress in the High Forest.

Last word was that it was from there Thurzó was mustering force of his own.

The route was expected to be over the western sweep of the Ridgetail mountains. And furthermore, it was expected that there would be a sign of the armies of the Realm on that march to which they could maneuver either to harass or offer battle.

Failing that, there would be a siege upon that fortress in order to bring a swift end to the conflict by securing Thurzó as a hostage and make the King drop charges against Countess Bathory. Or release Viznove and her allies from allegiance to the crown.

Mother and Father had shared how it was plotted and planned out.

She had agreed that Alexander did not need to attend all the same meetings and summaries and discussions as she did. He was still young, as men aged, and Jewel was starting to feel strangely older despite herself.

Older and better able to share the burden with Father and Mother to keep her and the family safe. Jewel had vowed to not speak of anything to anyone else. There were worries of some of the words reaching the Realm and Thurzó.

From the letters the Countess had written and the discussions Mother, Father, Kraok and Bromthil had with Jewel in Father’s study she very much had decided she did not like Thurzó.

The man was originally appointed regent in waiting for Viznove upon the death of the Countess’ Husband. But then he had invented some fiction about her murdering ladies!

Then using this excuse he had officially announced a claimant to the title of Low King of Ridgevaul. And was gathering the armies from the High King’s Realm in order to press his claim against the Countess Bathory of Viznove and anyone who honored their obligations to be her allies!

The deception and trickery of it all was so thick it made her Wyrmflame curdle and spark inside Jewel’s throat!

To take a position of a trusted Regent and betray it like this was one insult!

But then there was his new title.

Low King of Ridgevaul.

Jewel found the whole thing disturbing. It was also pure fabrication. There had never been such a kingdom according to the histories. Nor any such place as Ridgevaul, not even a town or hamlet. Nor any territory named otherwise that had fully encompassed the ones that were supposed to be under its aegis and no people taking up the title for themselves or their lands.

It was all false!

It was an obligation and fealty invented purely whole cloth to wrest control from the Countess and yoke her neighbors! Just as terrible a fabrication as the accusations that supposedly justified it. Or at least that is what Jewel had heard, if the heated discussions between Mother and Kraok where things got particularly loud were to be believed (and of course Jewel did).

The Realm itself claims at least some loyalty from Viznove and by allegiance Rochford.

Over a two centuries old alliance in fact.

The histories were at least clear on that, fealty offered for protection against the deprivations of the southern kingdoms.

Which meant that one of the acceptable outcomes of the war would simply be the deposing and imprisonment (by the Countess of course) of Thurzó for his dishonor and the retraction of the accusations against her. With reparations for the dishonor given to Countess Bathory of course.

It was only if The Realm refused these terms that Viznove and whatever Allies were rallied would consider outright Independence.

But if the so-called High King spat on that offer and was openly greedy in his goals?

Something Jewel had been assured by the Countess’ letters was partly out of his coveting of her person for his own possession?

Well, such an act might very well draw far more than just Viznove and their neighbors into the war.

It could tear the entire realm apart.

All of this made Jewel’s Wyrmflame quicken and rumble through her spine. It drew anger from her almost as bad as when the Red Wizard had tried to command her fire.

And she was not alone in this.

The mere suggestion of such a dishonorable act was enough that those who were yet unwilling to vouch for the Countess made rumor they might change their minds.

Father was away to try and secure just such an alliance from Count Fiebron of Zekhedge to the north.

They were both Gryphon Lords and Father had thought that his place as first amongst them would lend weight to the situation where the Countess’ letters had not.

He was out with the Count and the other Gryphon lords of the surrounding lands for a hunt by sky.

Jewel would not be attending the hunting flight, some of the lords present might very well be against them in the upcoming war, and revealing all she could do was something he had cautioned against.

But it was not too much of a loss to miss father for the eight days of his expedition with the other Gryphon Lords.

The hunting flight where he was planning to make a case for the honor owed to Rochford (and by proxy Viznove) was, strictly speaking, not even actually open to her. She had not been accepted into the ranks of their fraternity.

But after this war, Father intended to push for her inclusion into the order,

“Daughter or Wyrm, you fly better than some of their worst and you will be as bloodied in war as any other Lord or Knight after this.”

He’d said that while brimming with scents of pride, fear and sadness all at once, and she’d failed to hold to decorum and not give him a hug and a promise she’d be honored to join him for one of their hunts after the war.

She’d needed a cloth to wipe her eyes when he departed after that.

Her training had stalled out after a fashion anyway, and Mother had praised her spinning work so profusely that Jewel had been physically incapable of keeping her wings closed to her side.

Which had then turned into taking on almost the entirety of wool spinning with all the time that had once gone to Jewel’s training.

She still assisted in the drills with Bromthil.

Aiding the Footmen to further hone their tactics for mounted enemies and warbeasts.

But by Mother’s word, Jewel was going to assure them almost half again more levy from Rochford with the deal that was now feasible.

Every household in the barony was given the promise of either their own wool or Father’s spun into thread and cloth as an assurance that the women and younger girls could take up the labor of the harvest without fearing it would leave their loved ones in rags or less come winter.

With that promise and the word of its assurance, half of Rochford’s Levies had arrived already so far and were well into training they normally could not afford.

This granted an opportunity for drills to be done with those peasants that would actually be marching to war with the footmen and for a deeper bond of brotherhood in arms to be forged well ahead of the strain of war and the march.

It would empty most of Jewel’s family store of linens and other cloth and would have been unfeasible any year before now.

But Jewel apparently finally learned how to actually spin thread. And not in the halting and stilted manner she always managed every year or so before her body caught up to it and rendered every lesson moot.

No, Jewel could spin thread at a pace that put thirty skilled spinsters to shame.

It only applied to thread however. Jewel was just as bad as ever weaving bolts of cloth. Which was comparably bad as her worst at spinning.

But Mother had simply taken that in stride and set Jewel to the spinning and had her complement of girls, women and crones to do the weaving with the hands freed up.

And with the thread and cloth so made she produced deals with the mothers, daughters and grandmothers of the villages of Rochford. Cloth enough for a year of garments and spare to their families in exchange for releasing husbands and sons early for the levy.

Jewel then obliged Bromthil time to rough up the fresher levy and the footmen with what time was not spent spinning, sleeping, eating or bathing.

Kraok was also often in attendance now for the melees when he was not joining Muriel as a training prop for Alexander’s lesson in sword form.

It was technically also training for him too but Jewel was wondering if maybe she was doing something wrong that Muriel often left the newly made Knight more bruised then a dragon did.

Bromthil had not told her she needed to be rougher on anyone yet so she assumed she was being the correct amount of rough with his men.

Jewel was doing so much every single day the sunlight hours felt so full they should be bursting. But despite so much activity, Jewel was hardly tired at all. The beat of boots on stone, the sound of training duels and formations?

The overwhelming undercurrent and the slow tense fear beneath the actions of everyone all over her home?

It left Jewel feeling jittery, her wyrmfire hot and sparking so hard she had to focus hard when it came time for spinning.

Every day since Father left it was just so dense and tightly wound.

But then a familiar cry broke through it all. The friendly call of Zephyrvam coming from the north!

Jewel was launching herself into the air almost before she finished realizing what she had heard.

She apologized profusely to the few people she’d knocked off their feet with her downdraft.

But even though it probably shocked a few of the newer arrivals, Jewel could not quite find it in herself to care.

Because Father was home!