The following is a Fan fiction written in the Mount and Blade world of Calradia. All copyrights belong solely to Taleworlds and Paradox.
Author's Note: The following story is very roughly based off a round of multi-player Mount and Blade Warband, during the late beta phase. A good portion of the storyline is derived from that particular game. The story itself is set in the Warband version of Mount and Blade (as opposed to a more tradition Vanilla setting). Do not expect regular updates; I might write and post five chapters in a week, then go on for months without working on it.
Chapter 1: Bondage
Imirza Noyan, Lord and owner of Tolbuk castle, as well as the collection of villages known as Tolbuk. Noyan, Commander, Warrior, Landowner, Father, and...
Creditor.
--------------
Qutlugh and his old saddle horse plotted tiredly toward the sheer outcrop of Tolbuk Castle. He was wary, and with good reason: The plateau of the steppes was notorious for it's bandits, it's cruel cowards and thieves. At any second a band of men, ranging from thirty to a mere handful could rage out of the hill and grassland, to cut down any in their way, to steal, rape and slaughter.
Such as, it was little wonder that Imirza Noyan decided to create an impromptu money-lending and safeguarding guild, operating form his castle. It was safe there for gold, far safer then any attempt at the villagers to bury what little they had or stuff it into their mattresses. Of course, most of the villagers were far too poor to save any kind of real money; but the blacksmith and tanner's guilds, the owners of taverns and elders, they would sometimes make the dangerous journey to the castle. And Qutlugh's father, he had made the trip to the castle many, many times, although he had returned with more money then he had set out with.
His father had been a kind man, but he had also had an unfortunate liking of the dice, and no skill at them. His mother was, by any standard, no better or worse, favoring linen and luxuries. But his father tried kept his debts, and saw that his wife wanted for little. Thus, it did not take long for their generous dowries and flocks to diminish, for the two dozen sheep to vanish, for the five strong horses to dwindle down to the single old steed that Qutlugh now rode. Desperate for money, Qutlugh's father had turned to Imirza Noyan for help, and secured a loan; which he used to buy more sheep and mares.
But the act of begging for the lending of money did not stay the gambling hand. Again his father went to the lord, and begged for more. And again, and again, until finally Imirza looked at his ledgers and discovered a due dept of nigh one thousand denarii, all in addition to nearly three hundred denarii in unpaid rents and taxes. When Qutlugh's father once again came to the gates and postured for silver, he was not welcomed well.
The dept must be paid. But, the family was in financial tatters; for all the goats, horses and cattle the silver could have bought, there was no livestock other then the old horse and a mere handful of chickens. Of the children, only Qutlugh was old enough to work; a younger sister at six, and a four year old brother.
And thus, Qutlugh was taken as a retainer, any wagers and earnings he gained to be paid to the dept, till it ceased to exist. If the family fled, or did not pay any future dues, Imirza Noyan would be sure to find them and deliver all lawful punishment.
Twelve denarii to be paid to outfit Qutlugh; the family never saw the money, as it went straight to pay their dept. So Qutlugh took what he could, his clothes, his hunting bow, stealing the last horse as darkness fell. That was all he could take; that was all there was to take. If he died, the dept would remain unpaid, and the cost of the old horse to cross the plains was of little consequence in comparison.
The fullness of the affair that Qutlugh would soon dive into had been already explained to him by his father. He, as a retainer, servant or whatever Imirza Noyan deemed that he should be, would be fed, bedded and paid by the Noyan, of which was equal to his work. As was, he would be given the minimum of payment. One Denar a week.
One, filthy, Denar a week, to pay a dept of near one thousand and three hundred Denarii. Fifty-two Denarii a year.
Twenty-Five full years of labor, then the dept incurred by his father would be no more. That is, without interest.
He could run; in fact, for several nights he thought that he ought to. He was sixteen now. When he would finally pay off the money that had been borrowed and start on the interest, he would be older then forty. FORTY! Nearly as old as his grandfather; his brother and sister, if they lived that long, would have children of their own, maybe even with grandchildren on the way.
But he could not.
He could not run, lose what little honor his family still had left. He noticed a stick on the ground, and decided that it would be good club, if he trimmed the branches. Attempting to be deftly skilled, he swung over the saddle to retrieve it, only to lose his balance and fall. Of course, the old horse did not stop, but continued to trot forward, while Qutlugh had twisted up his foot in the stirrup. Qutlugh caught the branch and held fast. Soon enough, the horse stopped, noticing the lack of weight on his back and thus reason to go forward. Qutlugh threw his foot out of the stirrup and stared hard at the sky while his old horse went foraging for edibles. Again his mind returned to why he couldn't run, and temptation played it's part. But if he ran, then his family would still be persecuted for the dept. His father would be killed as an example, his mother sold into whoredom, and his siblings taken as slaves. Though he did not own them to give in life in servitude for a dept he did not incur, neither could he leave them to such a fell fate. The matter of honor was little in comparison to the realties of the incurred, unpayable, dept that demand compensation.
So he shrugged of all dishonorable thoughts, stood up, brushed himself off, and chased down his horse. Soon again, he found himself trotting to the tall Khergit castle in the distance.
A few hours later, the massive gates loomed before him, covering him in their shadow of the eastern setting sun. He gulped at the imposing doors, of imported sea-oak and north pine, and the thick stone walls. He looked back and forth across the dark walls from his low point, but he could see no guard to hail, and nobody stood to hail him.
After a few minutes of nervous fidgeting, he finally mustered up the courage to hail seemingly empty walls. "Hello? Sirs? Is anyone there?" The sound of grumbling came and finally a bored looking guard peeked over, munching on a apple. "Khergit?" He barked idly, looking Qutlugh up and down. "Yes." The guard nodded. "Fine then. Business?" "I am to become a retainer of Imirza Noyan, by his order, to pay off my father's dept." The guard frowned slightly. "A slave then? Fine, you'll be let in soon enough." Qutlugh dismounted from his horse, and waited patently for the doors to open. After some time, for the guard to seek a superior, or perhaps, to finish his meal, a banging was heard, and the wicked gate swung open. Another sleazy guard was at the entrance, and Qutlugh squeezed himself and his horse through. The soldier nodded cutely, his clothing suggesting an average tribesman but his body language showing different. "Come, peasant, Altan Uruk Nokud will see you now." Qutlugh followed the man mutely, whom directed him to stable his horse in meanest part of the massive stables that held hundreds of horses. He noticed a young stable girl tending the horses at the far end, but did not catch her face, only her ragged work clothes. He had not time more for then a quick glimpse, and the soldier tapped his feet impatiently.
He was led into the castle keep, around the main hall and up several flights of stairs. The soldier pointed down a corridor. "Last one on the left." And then he was gone, so Qutlugh continued as he was directed, and knocked carefully on the directed door. "Come in." Came a meditative voice. Qutlugh entered cautiously, his nature sense telling him to be wary. He was greeted by the sight of hardened man, weathered by years in the saddle and steppe, working quietly on a large pile of paperwork. He didn't look up. "And you are?" Qutlugh stood quite still. "Qutlugh, sir. I'm here to work off my father's dept." The man glanced up for a second. "Well then, that means you are under my command until the Noyan is back. Go, be off with you, and report to the stable-master. Until the Noyan decides what you shall do, you can shovel dung. That is, if he would have someone like you do anything less." The man looked back up again. "What are you still doing here? Go!" Qutlugh jumped back. "Yes, sir!"
So Qutlugh went down to work in the stables, until the Noyan returned, if he ever did. Even if he did, Imirza Noyan might easily decide that shoveling dung is all that Qutlugh was worthy of.
Author's Note: The following story is very roughly based off a round of multi-player Mount and Blade Warband, during the late beta phase. A good portion of the storyline is derived from that particular game. The story itself is set in the Warband version of Mount and Blade (as opposed to a more tradition Vanilla setting). Do not expect regular updates; I might write and post five chapters in a week, then go on for months without working on it.
Chapter 1: Bondage
Imirza Noyan, Lord and owner of Tolbuk castle, as well as the collection of villages known as Tolbuk. Noyan, Commander, Warrior, Landowner, Father, and...
Creditor.
--------------
Qutlugh and his old saddle horse plotted tiredly toward the sheer outcrop of Tolbuk Castle. He was wary, and with good reason: The plateau of the steppes was notorious for it's bandits, it's cruel cowards and thieves. At any second a band of men, ranging from thirty to a mere handful could rage out of the hill and grassland, to cut down any in their way, to steal, rape and slaughter.
Such as, it was little wonder that Imirza Noyan decided to create an impromptu money-lending and safeguarding guild, operating form his castle. It was safe there for gold, far safer then any attempt at the villagers to bury what little they had or stuff it into their mattresses. Of course, most of the villagers were far too poor to save any kind of real money; but the blacksmith and tanner's guilds, the owners of taverns and elders, they would sometimes make the dangerous journey to the castle. And Qutlugh's father, he had made the trip to the castle many, many times, although he had returned with more money then he had set out with.
His father had been a kind man, but he had also had an unfortunate liking of the dice, and no skill at them. His mother was, by any standard, no better or worse, favoring linen and luxuries. But his father tried kept his debts, and saw that his wife wanted for little. Thus, it did not take long for their generous dowries and flocks to diminish, for the two dozen sheep to vanish, for the five strong horses to dwindle down to the single old steed that Qutlugh now rode. Desperate for money, Qutlugh's father had turned to Imirza Noyan for help, and secured a loan; which he used to buy more sheep and mares.
But the act of begging for the lending of money did not stay the gambling hand. Again his father went to the lord, and begged for more. And again, and again, until finally Imirza looked at his ledgers and discovered a due dept of nigh one thousand denarii, all in addition to nearly three hundred denarii in unpaid rents and taxes. When Qutlugh's father once again came to the gates and postured for silver, he was not welcomed well.
The dept must be paid. But, the family was in financial tatters; for all the goats, horses and cattle the silver could have bought, there was no livestock other then the old horse and a mere handful of chickens. Of the children, only Qutlugh was old enough to work; a younger sister at six, and a four year old brother.
And thus, Qutlugh was taken as a retainer, any wagers and earnings he gained to be paid to the dept, till it ceased to exist. If the family fled, or did not pay any future dues, Imirza Noyan would be sure to find them and deliver all lawful punishment.
Twelve denarii to be paid to outfit Qutlugh; the family never saw the money, as it went straight to pay their dept. So Qutlugh took what he could, his clothes, his hunting bow, stealing the last horse as darkness fell. That was all he could take; that was all there was to take. If he died, the dept would remain unpaid, and the cost of the old horse to cross the plains was of little consequence in comparison.
The fullness of the affair that Qutlugh would soon dive into had been already explained to him by his father. He, as a retainer, servant or whatever Imirza Noyan deemed that he should be, would be fed, bedded and paid by the Noyan, of which was equal to his work. As was, he would be given the minimum of payment. One Denar a week.
One, filthy, Denar a week, to pay a dept of near one thousand and three hundred Denarii. Fifty-two Denarii a year.
Twenty-Five full years of labor, then the dept incurred by his father would be no more. That is, without interest.
He could run; in fact, for several nights he thought that he ought to. He was sixteen now. When he would finally pay off the money that had been borrowed and start on the interest, he would be older then forty. FORTY! Nearly as old as his grandfather; his brother and sister, if they lived that long, would have children of their own, maybe even with grandchildren on the way.
But he could not.
He could not run, lose what little honor his family still had left. He noticed a stick on the ground, and decided that it would be good club, if he trimmed the branches. Attempting to be deftly skilled, he swung over the saddle to retrieve it, only to lose his balance and fall. Of course, the old horse did not stop, but continued to trot forward, while Qutlugh had twisted up his foot in the stirrup. Qutlugh caught the branch and held fast. Soon enough, the horse stopped, noticing the lack of weight on his back and thus reason to go forward. Qutlugh threw his foot out of the stirrup and stared hard at the sky while his old horse went foraging for edibles. Again his mind returned to why he couldn't run, and temptation played it's part. But if he ran, then his family would still be persecuted for the dept. His father would be killed as an example, his mother sold into whoredom, and his siblings taken as slaves. Though he did not own them to give in life in servitude for a dept he did not incur, neither could he leave them to such a fell fate. The matter of honor was little in comparison to the realties of the incurred, unpayable, dept that demand compensation.
So he shrugged of all dishonorable thoughts, stood up, brushed himself off, and chased down his horse. Soon again, he found himself trotting to the tall Khergit castle in the distance.
A few hours later, the massive gates loomed before him, covering him in their shadow of the eastern setting sun. He gulped at the imposing doors, of imported sea-oak and north pine, and the thick stone walls. He looked back and forth across the dark walls from his low point, but he could see no guard to hail, and nobody stood to hail him.
After a few minutes of nervous fidgeting, he finally mustered up the courage to hail seemingly empty walls. "Hello? Sirs? Is anyone there?" The sound of grumbling came and finally a bored looking guard peeked over, munching on a apple. "Khergit?" He barked idly, looking Qutlugh up and down. "Yes." The guard nodded. "Fine then. Business?" "I am to become a retainer of Imirza Noyan, by his order, to pay off my father's dept." The guard frowned slightly. "A slave then? Fine, you'll be let in soon enough." Qutlugh dismounted from his horse, and waited patently for the doors to open. After some time, for the guard to seek a superior, or perhaps, to finish his meal, a banging was heard, and the wicked gate swung open. Another sleazy guard was at the entrance, and Qutlugh squeezed himself and his horse through. The soldier nodded cutely, his clothing suggesting an average tribesman but his body language showing different. "Come, peasant, Altan Uruk Nokud will see you now." Qutlugh followed the man mutely, whom directed him to stable his horse in meanest part of the massive stables that held hundreds of horses. He noticed a young stable girl tending the horses at the far end, but did not catch her face, only her ragged work clothes. He had not time more for then a quick glimpse, and the soldier tapped his feet impatiently.
He was led into the castle keep, around the main hall and up several flights of stairs. The soldier pointed down a corridor. "Last one on the left." And then he was gone, so Qutlugh continued as he was directed, and knocked carefully on the directed door. "Come in." Came a meditative voice. Qutlugh entered cautiously, his nature sense telling him to be wary. He was greeted by the sight of hardened man, weathered by years in the saddle and steppe, working quietly on a large pile of paperwork. He didn't look up. "And you are?" Qutlugh stood quite still. "Qutlugh, sir. I'm here to work off my father's dept." The man glanced up for a second. "Well then, that means you are under my command until the Noyan is back. Go, be off with you, and report to the stable-master. Until the Noyan decides what you shall do, you can shovel dung. That is, if he would have someone like you do anything less." The man looked back up again. "What are you still doing here? Go!" Qutlugh jumped back. "Yes, sir!"
So Qutlugh went down to work in the stables, until the Noyan returned, if he ever did. Even if he did, Imirza Noyan might easily decide that shoveling dung is all that Qutlugh was worthy of.
