Post by The Glass Ninja on Mar 7, 2015 3:11:44 GMT
The Journey to Alinor
_______________________________
Ezekiel looked down at the ship in harbour, his hand slowly stroking along his horse's neck. Bishop Michael was standing beside him, his simple black cassock rustling in the salt-tinged wind. "My lord" He began, turning to look up at his liege "I wish you a safe journey, and know you have brought me to bless your ship and men before you leave...but...why else? You said you wished to talk before we left Highmark" The old man reached up to brush back his slate grey hair "I'm simply an old man"
"Michael, you have known me since I was a boy. I wished to speak to you before I went of the black friars spreading word of the god-sword. What do you think?" He paused for a moment "Is it heresy, to let them have hope that god has sent his power to us?"
"I...find the myth to be heartening personally, my lord. I would let them continue; I seen no harm in giving young knights a goal. Though...I would like to find a few of them and bring them together. So that I may speak to them."
Ezekiel nodded his assent, then leapt down from his horse, clapping the old Bishop on the shoulder. "You have my authority in this, Bishop. Now come, we must set off and my men would like a blessing."
The household guard stood in three lines of ten, their tabards proudly blazing out the Talain coat of arms - their mail shining in the morning sun. Several knights also stood off to the side - Arren Du Payne, Eric Alesly, Quentin Makepeace, Jaques Devern and Markot Quince. They were trusted warriors, and well proven as the duke's sword-brothers. Ezekiel took his place in front of the lines of his guard, and knelt before Bishop Michael. The knights quickly found their places beside their lord, and soon they were all beneath the gaze of the bishop.
"Lord God, above us all. I call to thee..."
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They had loaded onto ship, their travelling gear loaded into the holds alongside the wagons of silver they were bringing to Alinor. Ezekiel had spent most of the two week trip on the forecastle, standing with the captain and watching the waves roll by. Sometimes, one of his knights would come to him and speak for a while, but the lord had made sure to get to know the captain of his vessel - as well as the men who crewed her. Allegiance, that was its name, and the Captain who owned her was very eager to express how the name had been chosen by his father; the master before him. He had six sons, and Ezekiel was sure he knew every single thing about them a week into the journey. The captain was sure to remind him the week after.
The captain was telling him of his youngest son, Marko, for the third time as the far-eyes hailedout. "Land ho!" and the captain brokeoff in his story -something involving a monkey, Ezekial's mind had been elsewhere, as the verdant coast of the Clerical States came into view on the horizon, and along it, init's protected cove, Alinore, the Holy City. Temples, priories and nunnerieswere greatly in evidence from the shore, and above it all rose the huge edifice of the Grand Temple, with it's Thousand Pillars.
The ship drew closer over the next hour, the banner of Talain snapping in the wind. As they came closer to the harbour, a pilots small boat sailed out to greet them, passing by all other ships on their way to meet the transport of a marklord. It was a sure honour that they were given precedence, and as the pilot boarded he bowed to the wheel where Ezekiel stood. The lord was watching the coast as it drew closer, shifting slowly from foot to foot. It was interesting to think that soon he'd be making his case to an Archbishop...concerning the death of Heretics.
The ship moved slowly into the harbour, men waiting for lines on the dock, crew moving quickly to secure their vessel. As the gangplank was lowered, Ezekiel was clasping wrists with the Captain, thanking him for safe transit and 'pleasant conversation' before he and his knights (Who had quickly made their way up from below decks) made to step off the ship. The guard would take a little longer, as well as the cargo, but Ezekiel was willing to wait. It had been two weeks, a little while longer wouldn't be too great a burden.
As it turned out, it was longer than just a little. The cargo and guard took nearly half an hour to be assembled and by then it was nearing sunset. However, once they arrived on the dock, Ezekiel made haste for the Grand Temple. The priest sent to meet them spoke as they walked. "The archbishop shall see you on the morrow. He has had a tower room cleared for your use, wich you may claim at any moment. Or if you wish to stay in the city I'm sure the local innkeeps would be accommodating.He has set aside an old confessor barracks for your men, and our steward will have you knights put up at a local inn." They walked down the roads. "You will be staying in the Iron Tower." He gestured to a large white spire on the shoreward side of the Grand Temple. A huge iron nail stood at the top. "Should my lord like to see the sights?" Temples and saints tombs and reliquaries were everywhere, as were winesinks, places of merry and brothels. It struck Ezekiel that this holy city was a place of worship, but one could also unwind here as well, with wine, games and perhaps pleasant company...
His men might revel in such things, but Ezekiel knew that he would never cavort with ladies of the night, or drink a great deal before such an important day. The fire-haired lord shook his head. His sword-brothers too, would honour their wives. He had never known any of them to have interest in whores - not since they were all young men, though more than one had sank into a saddness that only his cups could satisfy. "I would like to stay with my knights, in a inn by a fine temple if that could be arranged. I would make worship to God before such an auspicious day as tomorrow, and rest well before meeting his holiness the Archbishop."
"Of course, my lord" the priest led the way to a small narrow road by the quayside. "It's quiet here. the Holy Father often visits here to bless the tombs nearby on the way to the Hospital" He pointed. the Hospital was just up the narrow road, a small fortress, with a pair of hospitalar knights standing guard outside. A steady stream of sick and injured flowed in. "Mostly they come from Vulpony" the priest explained as they passed the masses. "injured in the wars there, and of late, one hears tell of famine in those lands" he shuddered.
They drew up near a quaint inn. He saw that it was cleaner than most, though a young woman was out front, casting sultry gazes at passers by. They entered into a warm, chattering room lit only bya central firepit, small, unglassed windows some candles over the counter. Through one window, Ezekial could see the Temple of the Tombs.
"I thank you, brother" Arinas, he provided "your presence has been most kind and informative. What was your name, so I may mention your fine service to the Archbishop when I see him tomorrow?" Once the priest had given his name, and wished the Duke good luck, he left; promising a return tomorrow before departing and leaving Ezekiel's party to rest. Of course, he ensured that the inkeep knew who Ezekiel was, and who was housing him there - their rooms were swiftly prepared.
The lord quietly settled himself, storing his things in his room before gathering his sword brothers and making their way outside. The knights were dressed more simply than usual, but still they were armed. The prostitute who had taken up station outside their inn looked them over, but noticed the crusader nail upon their breasts and cloaks; they were not there for pleasure. Moving quickly, they made their way to the temple and found the altar to their god. Devotions were quick, and Ezekiel refused to beg his lord for aid tomorrow - he wished only for his God to know that he would fight in his name.
As they returned, they noticed the whore was gone, a far uglier woman in her place hawking holy icons and jewellery to those who passed by. Ezekiel tossed her a small silver coin, and took for himself a small broach fashioned into an Iron nail - he pinned it to his cloak, and smiled at the woman before heading inside for supper and well deserved sleep on solid land.
__________________________________________________
He was admitted to the grand temple just before midday the next day. He had to admit. It deserved the name. The antechamber alone was larger than most castles, and huge fluted pillars rose up to support ceiling painted with a vision of Heaven. Angels flew among the clouds up there.
Down here, on the audience hall, more than three hundred people, probably six times more, crowded about, all straining to hear the petitions. the murder of noise was deafening. The crier spoke into a huge brass tube that amplified his voice. "Duke Ezekiel Talain of Highmark," heralded the man simply. He did not list off Ezekiel's other titles. All men were beneath the Archbishop.
He was flanked by his knights, their finest clothing covered by fine cloaks, marked both with the nail of their faith and their personal heraldry. Ezekiel's simple, well made black doublet and hose cut him out as a striking figure amongst the other petitioners - the iron broach shining at his throat. He found excessive finery to be a waste of resources, and the opulence expended by the church in this palace was no different - he found it strange that those who represented their god upon this earth surrounded themselves with such excessive wealth, but men were men.
Striding forward, his cold eyes clearing a way towards the throne of the archbishop, the wedge of Highmarkers stopping before the man who had called them from so far away. They bowed in Unison, saluting the Archbishop quickly and with clipped precision; they knew the importance of this visit. "Your holiness" Ezekiel stated, looking up at the man on the throne.
He was aged and grey, but when he turned his eyes on Ezekiel, he saw a respectable steel behind them. "Duke Talain," the man greeted. He looked over Ezekiel. "It is customary to kneel before an archbishop," he said, one eyebrow raised.
Ezekiel heard his knights fall to their knees on either side behind him, but kept his feet "I am, rarely, a man of custom my lord. You are my general, and the light of God himself." The duke reached down, unbuckling his sword and holding the weapon across the scabbard in both hands "I come, your holiness, to offer you my blade, and my blood for the glory of God and Alinor. I would look the man whom I pledge my life to in the eye, so he may know my piety - my fervour for crusade against the heathen scum who thrive in the Great Forest"
The Archbishop raised his eyebrow higher. "I see. And you would of course be willing to build temples in the conquered lands, to convert the infidels, to accept a clerical inquisition there, to keep them to the faith?"
"I will." The lord of Highmark pressed the point of his sheathed blade onto the tiled floor, resting both of his hands on the pommel. "I would request a mission of priests from yourself, to come after my armies; to convert the heathens, to minister to the temples, and to ensure the faith of the infidels."
"That seems well thought," said the Archbishop. He stood, rising to his full height, though still crookbacked and slowly shuffled towards Ezekiel. "God wills it. I shall send my Clerical Legate, Cardinal Jean with you." He indicated a hard-eyed, thin cardinal standing by his seat. "God will reward you for this," he said. He held out his hand, for Ezekiel to kneel and kiss his ring, the ring that supposedly held the blood of God himself, from a wound taken during the First Battle
The lord nodded to the cardinal, studying the man for a moment before turning back to the Archbishop "Aye, your holiness" Ezekiel said, stepping forward, kneeling before the old man. He took the proffered hand and brushed his lips against the holy ring. "I would ask you too, my lord, for your blessing to lead the crusade against these Dacic heathens, and to see that our faith finds supremacy in their lands - in blood, flame and conquest"
He studied Ezekiel for a moment then nodded. Ezekiel bowed his head, still kneeling, and the archbishop placed a wizened hand on his head. "Ezekiel Talain, Duke of Highmark, Marklord of Rudaur, Marklord of the Eseterre, Earl of Cliffshire, I do hereby bless your soul, in the name of the Father, the Daughter and the Saints to lead with righteous glory, a Crusade against the infidels of the east and bring to them Heaven by the Sword and the Nails. Be blessed. Deiu le Veut."
The lord's sword brothers rose behind him, letting loose the cry "Deiu le Veut! Deiu le Veut!" Some of the petitioners even joined in, before the call was taken up by many. The fire of crusade burned in their hearts, and Ezekiel found himself terribly eager to return home. It was not divine fervour that filled him though, but the thought of revenge for many friends lost...and the bounty of all the power and wealth he could gain.
Killing the heathens in the name of God was excellent justification; it would perhaps even secure his place in heaven.
_______________________________
Ezekiel looked down at the ship in harbour, his hand slowly stroking along his horse's neck. Bishop Michael was standing beside him, his simple black cassock rustling in the salt-tinged wind. "My lord" He began, turning to look up at his liege "I wish you a safe journey, and know you have brought me to bless your ship and men before you leave...but...why else? You said you wished to talk before we left Highmark" The old man reached up to brush back his slate grey hair "I'm simply an old man"
"Michael, you have known me since I was a boy. I wished to speak to you before I went of the black friars spreading word of the god-sword. What do you think?" He paused for a moment "Is it heresy, to let them have hope that god has sent his power to us?"
"I...find the myth to be heartening personally, my lord. I would let them continue; I seen no harm in giving young knights a goal. Though...I would like to find a few of them and bring them together. So that I may speak to them."
Ezekiel nodded his assent, then leapt down from his horse, clapping the old Bishop on the shoulder. "You have my authority in this, Bishop. Now come, we must set off and my men would like a blessing."
The household guard stood in three lines of ten, their tabards proudly blazing out the Talain coat of arms - their mail shining in the morning sun. Several knights also stood off to the side - Arren Du Payne, Eric Alesly, Quentin Makepeace, Jaques Devern and Markot Quince. They were trusted warriors, and well proven as the duke's sword-brothers. Ezekiel took his place in front of the lines of his guard, and knelt before Bishop Michael. The knights quickly found their places beside their lord, and soon they were all beneath the gaze of the bishop.
"Lord God, above us all. I call to thee..."
------------------------------------------------------
They had loaded onto ship, their travelling gear loaded into the holds alongside the wagons of silver they were bringing to Alinor. Ezekiel had spent most of the two week trip on the forecastle, standing with the captain and watching the waves roll by. Sometimes, one of his knights would come to him and speak for a while, but the lord had made sure to get to know the captain of his vessel - as well as the men who crewed her. Allegiance, that was its name, and the Captain who owned her was very eager to express how the name had been chosen by his father; the master before him. He had six sons, and Ezekiel was sure he knew every single thing about them a week into the journey. The captain was sure to remind him the week after.
The captain was telling him of his youngest son, Marko, for the third time as the far-eyes hailedout. "Land ho!" and the captain brokeoff in his story -something involving a monkey, Ezekial's mind had been elsewhere, as the verdant coast of the Clerical States came into view on the horizon, and along it, init's protected cove, Alinore, the Holy City. Temples, priories and nunnerieswere greatly in evidence from the shore, and above it all rose the huge edifice of the Grand Temple, with it's Thousand Pillars.
The ship drew closer over the next hour, the banner of Talain snapping in the wind. As they came closer to the harbour, a pilots small boat sailed out to greet them, passing by all other ships on their way to meet the transport of a marklord. It was a sure honour that they were given precedence, and as the pilot boarded he bowed to the wheel where Ezekiel stood. The lord was watching the coast as it drew closer, shifting slowly from foot to foot. It was interesting to think that soon he'd be making his case to an Archbishop...concerning the death of Heretics.
The ship moved slowly into the harbour, men waiting for lines on the dock, crew moving quickly to secure their vessel. As the gangplank was lowered, Ezekiel was clasping wrists with the Captain, thanking him for safe transit and 'pleasant conversation' before he and his knights (Who had quickly made their way up from below decks) made to step off the ship. The guard would take a little longer, as well as the cargo, but Ezekiel was willing to wait. It had been two weeks, a little while longer wouldn't be too great a burden.
As it turned out, it was longer than just a little. The cargo and guard took nearly half an hour to be assembled and by then it was nearing sunset. However, once they arrived on the dock, Ezekiel made haste for the Grand Temple. The priest sent to meet them spoke as they walked. "The archbishop shall see you on the morrow. He has had a tower room cleared for your use, wich you may claim at any moment. Or if you wish to stay in the city I'm sure the local innkeeps would be accommodating.He has set aside an old confessor barracks for your men, and our steward will have you knights put up at a local inn." They walked down the roads. "You will be staying in the Iron Tower." He gestured to a large white spire on the shoreward side of the Grand Temple. A huge iron nail stood at the top. "Should my lord like to see the sights?" Temples and saints tombs and reliquaries were everywhere, as were winesinks, places of merry and brothels. It struck Ezekiel that this holy city was a place of worship, but one could also unwind here as well, with wine, games and perhaps pleasant company...
His men might revel in such things, but Ezekiel knew that he would never cavort with ladies of the night, or drink a great deal before such an important day. The fire-haired lord shook his head. His sword-brothers too, would honour their wives. He had never known any of them to have interest in whores - not since they were all young men, though more than one had sank into a saddness that only his cups could satisfy. "I would like to stay with my knights, in a inn by a fine temple if that could be arranged. I would make worship to God before such an auspicious day as tomorrow, and rest well before meeting his holiness the Archbishop."
"Of course, my lord" the priest led the way to a small narrow road by the quayside. "It's quiet here. the Holy Father often visits here to bless the tombs nearby on the way to the Hospital" He pointed. the Hospital was just up the narrow road, a small fortress, with a pair of hospitalar knights standing guard outside. A steady stream of sick and injured flowed in. "Mostly they come from Vulpony" the priest explained as they passed the masses. "injured in the wars there, and of late, one hears tell of famine in those lands" he shuddered.
They drew up near a quaint inn. He saw that it was cleaner than most, though a young woman was out front, casting sultry gazes at passers by. They entered into a warm, chattering room lit only bya central firepit, small, unglassed windows some candles over the counter. Through one window, Ezekial could see the Temple of the Tombs.
"I thank you, brother" Arinas, he provided "your presence has been most kind and informative. What was your name, so I may mention your fine service to the Archbishop when I see him tomorrow?" Once the priest had given his name, and wished the Duke good luck, he left; promising a return tomorrow before departing and leaving Ezekiel's party to rest. Of course, he ensured that the inkeep knew who Ezekiel was, and who was housing him there - their rooms were swiftly prepared.
The lord quietly settled himself, storing his things in his room before gathering his sword brothers and making their way outside. The knights were dressed more simply than usual, but still they were armed. The prostitute who had taken up station outside their inn looked them over, but noticed the crusader nail upon their breasts and cloaks; they were not there for pleasure. Moving quickly, they made their way to the temple and found the altar to their god. Devotions were quick, and Ezekiel refused to beg his lord for aid tomorrow - he wished only for his God to know that he would fight in his name.
As they returned, they noticed the whore was gone, a far uglier woman in her place hawking holy icons and jewellery to those who passed by. Ezekiel tossed her a small silver coin, and took for himself a small broach fashioned into an Iron nail - he pinned it to his cloak, and smiled at the woman before heading inside for supper and well deserved sleep on solid land.
__________________________________________________
He was admitted to the grand temple just before midday the next day. He had to admit. It deserved the name. The antechamber alone was larger than most castles, and huge fluted pillars rose up to support ceiling painted with a vision of Heaven. Angels flew among the clouds up there.
Down here, on the audience hall, more than three hundred people, probably six times more, crowded about, all straining to hear the petitions. the murder of noise was deafening. The crier spoke into a huge brass tube that amplified his voice. "Duke Ezekiel Talain of Highmark," heralded the man simply. He did not list off Ezekiel's other titles. All men were beneath the Archbishop.
He was flanked by his knights, their finest clothing covered by fine cloaks, marked both with the nail of their faith and their personal heraldry. Ezekiel's simple, well made black doublet and hose cut him out as a striking figure amongst the other petitioners - the iron broach shining at his throat. He found excessive finery to be a waste of resources, and the opulence expended by the church in this palace was no different - he found it strange that those who represented their god upon this earth surrounded themselves with such excessive wealth, but men were men.
Striding forward, his cold eyes clearing a way towards the throne of the archbishop, the wedge of Highmarkers stopping before the man who had called them from so far away. They bowed in Unison, saluting the Archbishop quickly and with clipped precision; they knew the importance of this visit. "Your holiness" Ezekiel stated, looking up at the man on the throne.
He was aged and grey, but when he turned his eyes on Ezekiel, he saw a respectable steel behind them. "Duke Talain," the man greeted. He looked over Ezekiel. "It is customary to kneel before an archbishop," he said, one eyebrow raised.
Ezekiel heard his knights fall to their knees on either side behind him, but kept his feet "I am, rarely, a man of custom my lord. You are my general, and the light of God himself." The duke reached down, unbuckling his sword and holding the weapon across the scabbard in both hands "I come, your holiness, to offer you my blade, and my blood for the glory of God and Alinor. I would look the man whom I pledge my life to in the eye, so he may know my piety - my fervour for crusade against the heathen scum who thrive in the Great Forest"
The Archbishop raised his eyebrow higher. "I see. And you would of course be willing to build temples in the conquered lands, to convert the infidels, to accept a clerical inquisition there, to keep them to the faith?"
"I will." The lord of Highmark pressed the point of his sheathed blade onto the tiled floor, resting both of his hands on the pommel. "I would request a mission of priests from yourself, to come after my armies; to convert the heathens, to minister to the temples, and to ensure the faith of the infidels."
"That seems well thought," said the Archbishop. He stood, rising to his full height, though still crookbacked and slowly shuffled towards Ezekiel. "God wills it. I shall send my Clerical Legate, Cardinal Jean with you." He indicated a hard-eyed, thin cardinal standing by his seat. "God will reward you for this," he said. He held out his hand, for Ezekiel to kneel and kiss his ring, the ring that supposedly held the blood of God himself, from a wound taken during the First Battle
The lord nodded to the cardinal, studying the man for a moment before turning back to the Archbishop "Aye, your holiness" Ezekiel said, stepping forward, kneeling before the old man. He took the proffered hand and brushed his lips against the holy ring. "I would ask you too, my lord, for your blessing to lead the crusade against these Dacic heathens, and to see that our faith finds supremacy in their lands - in blood, flame and conquest"
He studied Ezekiel for a moment then nodded. Ezekiel bowed his head, still kneeling, and the archbishop placed a wizened hand on his head. "Ezekiel Talain, Duke of Highmark, Marklord of Rudaur, Marklord of the Eseterre, Earl of Cliffshire, I do hereby bless your soul, in the name of the Father, the Daughter and the Saints to lead with righteous glory, a Crusade against the infidels of the east and bring to them Heaven by the Sword and the Nails. Be blessed. Deiu le Veut."
The lord's sword brothers rose behind him, letting loose the cry "Deiu le Veut! Deiu le Veut!" Some of the petitioners even joined in, before the call was taken up by many. The fire of crusade burned in their hearts, and Ezekiel found himself terribly eager to return home. It was not divine fervour that filled him though, but the thought of revenge for many friends lost...and the bounty of all the power and wealth he could gain.
Killing the heathens in the name of God was excellent justification; it would perhaps even secure his place in heaven.