Venitius
Count
The Traitor
The sun set over yet another Swadian battlefield. The carrion birds flew above; the birds buzzed around exposed and mangled flesh. The looters had already come out to loot the dead and the wounded for anything of value. Swadian Militia trampled among the mud and corpses to finish off the wounded with katzbalgers and knives. Those they missed would be no doubt killed by the looters. The wounded of the victors had already been carried off to their camp. Officers trampled around the field to make butchers' bills of the dead in the fading sunlight. In the distance, the Swadian cavalry looted and pillaged the camp of their foes. Yet the defeated were not another invading force.
The Swadian commander, equipped in typical Swadian armour, lifted his sallet's visor and loosened his bevor to issue a quick order to a messenger, who would ride at speed to Ulm, where the Duke there would send a message post-haste to the Emperor in Vienna. He was sweating heavily after a day's hard work, and patted his horse beside him. His squire ran up to him after an errand and took away his warhorse, gauntlets and shield. Two veteran landsknechts walked up to their commander. They dragged a prisoner in chains behind them. He was partly armoured and bleeding. The landsknechts threw the prisoner at the Swadian Baron's feet. One of the landsknechts, wearing medium plate and a burgonet, stood to attention, then said to the Swadian Baron,
"Here's the enemy commander, sir. Bloody traitor."
The Swadian Baron nodded and dismissed them. He closely inspected the man before him. His armour, despite the dents, damage and dried blood, clearly showed that he was a man of wealth. He then spoke.
"Well. Look where you are now. A former Knight of the Empire, now reduced to a weak and feeble man. What do you have to say, fool?"
The defeated man grunted, rose to a kneeling position and stared at the Swadian, then replied,
"Soon Swadia will fall. In the future, I shall be remembered as the Swadian who left the Empire and fought for a true cause..." He coughed in the middle of his sentence.
"... and started a revolution in motion... for history is written by the victors. You are a fool to believe Swadia will stay strong. The Emperor is a lunatic, an imbecile! The power of Fi..."
The man was interrupted by a sharp punch by a gauntleted fist to his right cheek, causing him to spit blood, and keel over, winded. His assailant was a silent man, covered in blood and breathing steadily under an archaic helmet. There appeared to be steel eagles' wings sticking out of the top of his helmet, though one "wing" was hacked apart. He wore a dirty, torn and vaguely coloured tabard over hard, dull Swadian steel. A bandage covered a part of his lower left arm, a shield was at his feet. A longsword was in a battered leather scabbard at his waist, and a war hammer hung from his belt too.
The man in chains breathed heavily, then looked back up at the two Swadians above him.
"Heh.. May you die horribly at the hands of the Brigadiers, you bastards. Perhaps a.." He coughed up more blood.
"... a flaying might do you some good." He laughed weakly, then coughed up more. He believed he saw a dagger in the ground, and began to reach for it when a metal-encased foot pressed against his chest and shoved him back.
"Perhaps you're mad. Or perhaps it's the stupid Filaharnism that's gone to your head." The Swadian Baron looked at the pathetic man on the ground, growled, then told the two landsknechts,
"Take him away! He will stand judgement, and no doubt will be killed." He laughed grimly.
"You'll be lucky if you get a decapitation, traitor." He spat in the man's face as the landsknechts lifted him up and started to take him away. The prisoner tried to retaliate, but failed. The Swadian Baron's companion left towards the camp, and he was left alone in the middle of the field as the sun approached the horizon.
He stared at it, towards the west, towards the Filaharnic scum. An officer, one of his aides, rode towards him, dismounted and gave him a sheaf of papers. The officer spoke to his commander,
"Well, not many 'true' Filaharnists, sir. Not many Brigadiers or whatever you see in the Filaharnic Armies, I mean. Mainly Swadian and Ellisian infantry, with a few mercenaries."
The Swadian commander digested this news.
"What is Mondo doing... last I went to Vienna the Generals said that there weren't any real major pushes by the Filaharnists this year. But all of a sudden there's a large army of traitors showing up in the North?" The Swadian paused. "Perhaps he's trying to wear us down. To divert our troops. To lower our morale. No-one likes killing 'brothers' anyway. What do you think?"
The officer shrugged and replied, "That's why I'm an aide and you're in command. Well, apart from the fact that you're in command because you're a Baron, but... Anyway, don't ask me. I'm just here to help you and fight the enemy of Swadia."
The Swadian Baron quietly sighed and shook his head. He dismissed the aide and stared at the horizon again. The screams of those being killed had quietened to groans. In the forest nearby, the screams of the routers being run down had ceased. The Swadian reflected on the landscape, as he attempted to clear his thoughts of the ideas jammed into his mind since the campaign's start..
Another harvest season ruined, another community ruined.
He turned away and walked towards his camp.
The sun set over yet another Swadian battlefield. The carrion birds flew above; the birds buzzed around exposed and mangled flesh. The looters had already come out to loot the dead and the wounded for anything of value. Swadian Militia trampled among the mud and corpses to finish off the wounded with katzbalgers and knives. Those they missed would be no doubt killed by the looters. The wounded of the victors had already been carried off to their camp. Officers trampled around the field to make butchers' bills of the dead in the fading sunlight. In the distance, the Swadian cavalry looted and pillaged the camp of their foes. Yet the defeated were not another invading force.
The Swadian commander, equipped in typical Swadian armour, lifted his sallet's visor and loosened his bevor to issue a quick order to a messenger, who would ride at speed to Ulm, where the Duke there would send a message post-haste to the Emperor in Vienna. He was sweating heavily after a day's hard work, and patted his horse beside him. His squire ran up to him after an errand and took away his warhorse, gauntlets and shield. Two veteran landsknechts walked up to their commander. They dragged a prisoner in chains behind them. He was partly armoured and bleeding. The landsknechts threw the prisoner at the Swadian Baron's feet. One of the landsknechts, wearing medium plate and a burgonet, stood to attention, then said to the Swadian Baron,
"Here's the enemy commander, sir. Bloody traitor."
The Swadian Baron nodded and dismissed them. He closely inspected the man before him. His armour, despite the dents, damage and dried blood, clearly showed that he was a man of wealth. He then spoke.
"Well. Look where you are now. A former Knight of the Empire, now reduced to a weak and feeble man. What do you have to say, fool?"
The defeated man grunted, rose to a kneeling position and stared at the Swadian, then replied,
"Soon Swadia will fall. In the future, I shall be remembered as the Swadian who left the Empire and fought for a true cause..." He coughed in the middle of his sentence.
"... and started a revolution in motion... for history is written by the victors. You are a fool to believe Swadia will stay strong. The Emperor is a lunatic, an imbecile! The power of Fi..."
The man was interrupted by a sharp punch by a gauntleted fist to his right cheek, causing him to spit blood, and keel over, winded. His assailant was a silent man, covered in blood and breathing steadily under an archaic helmet. There appeared to be steel eagles' wings sticking out of the top of his helmet, though one "wing" was hacked apart. He wore a dirty, torn and vaguely coloured tabard over hard, dull Swadian steel. A bandage covered a part of his lower left arm, a shield was at his feet. A longsword was in a battered leather scabbard at his waist, and a war hammer hung from his belt too.
The man in chains breathed heavily, then looked back up at the two Swadians above him.
"Heh.. May you die horribly at the hands of the Brigadiers, you bastards. Perhaps a.." He coughed up more blood.
"... a flaying might do you some good." He laughed weakly, then coughed up more. He believed he saw a dagger in the ground, and began to reach for it when a metal-encased foot pressed against his chest and shoved him back.
"Perhaps you're mad. Or perhaps it's the stupid Filaharnism that's gone to your head." The Swadian Baron looked at the pathetic man on the ground, growled, then told the two landsknechts,
"Take him away! He will stand judgement, and no doubt will be killed." He laughed grimly.
"You'll be lucky if you get a decapitation, traitor." He spat in the man's face as the landsknechts lifted him up and started to take him away. The prisoner tried to retaliate, but failed. The Swadian Baron's companion left towards the camp, and he was left alone in the middle of the field as the sun approached the horizon.
He stared at it, towards the west, towards the Filaharnic scum. An officer, one of his aides, rode towards him, dismounted and gave him a sheaf of papers. The officer spoke to his commander,
"Well, not many 'true' Filaharnists, sir. Not many Brigadiers or whatever you see in the Filaharnic Armies, I mean. Mainly Swadian and Ellisian infantry, with a few mercenaries."
The Swadian commander digested this news.
"What is Mondo doing... last I went to Vienna the Generals said that there weren't any real major pushes by the Filaharnists this year. But all of a sudden there's a large army of traitors showing up in the North?" The Swadian paused. "Perhaps he's trying to wear us down. To divert our troops. To lower our morale. No-one likes killing 'brothers' anyway. What do you think?"
The officer shrugged and replied, "That's why I'm an aide and you're in command. Well, apart from the fact that you're in command because you're a Baron, but... Anyway, don't ask me. I'm just here to help you and fight the enemy of Swadia."
The Swadian Baron quietly sighed and shook his head. He dismissed the aide and stared at the horizon again. The screams of those being killed had quietened to groans. In the forest nearby, the screams of the routers being run down had ceased. The Swadian reflected on the landscape, as he attempted to clear his thoughts of the ideas jammed into his mind since the campaign's start..
Another harvest season ruined, another community ruined.
He turned away and walked towards his camp.