Heolstor and about thirty horsemen head west- most are his, some have been picked by Theoderic to ride with Heolstor, to act as “native guides”.

Theoderic has only recently been crowned a king.  It was in the will of his father, King Clovis, to divide up his lands among his sons, but due to distance and the war, Theoderic was never given a coronation until just last year.  Prior to the Dukes of Belgica declaring their fealty, the actual land controlled by Theoderic was small- just a string of small towns and villages on the south side of the Ardennes, with Treverorum the only city of significance.  The strip of territory on the south side of the Ardennes west of Lucimburic is the only part that has been directly controlled by him, and when people speak of “Theoderic’s Domain” it is this hilly, forested land they are speaking of.

Heolstor passed through part of it briefly before, just a corner, the village of Longus.  It is this same village that he reaches again after the first days’ travel.

There is more thought behind Theoderic’s division of his force than immediately apparent.  In addition to disguising his intentions, it reduces the logistic burden.  The small villages in his land cannot feed large numbers, and a score or two of soldiers can provide for themselves by hunting.

Heolstor returns to Longus,   The place looks much as they left it, though slightly more “tired”.  It was a busy winter for them- more people coming and going along this road than anyone remembers.

With a small group, it’s also easier for the troops to enjoy the local tavern, the Longus House.  This is the ridge top tavern that is also the village center.  The rest of the village, as they remember,  consists of a small temple, an iron foundry, a smithy, a handful of shops, and clusters of small homes and barns built from logs.  The village has a population of at most  500.  There’s no defensive wall, but the ridge itself looks like it would be very defensible.  It’s a very sharp drop off to the Chiers river below.

Heolstor recalls the “key people” here:  the Viscount Gerraud, and the nature priestess Fica.

With no pressing reason to call a long halt here, it is only an overnight stop.  The next few days sees them cross Theoderic's domain, which is home for a few of the Frankish troops with Heolstor's force.  It's more or less a line, formed by the Chier River, and a stretch of the Meuse River.  When they are on the other side of it, they are in Hiricio, (Hirson, France).  Hiricio is the home of Gellas, Theoderic's "right hand" and Commander of Troops.  Because of this, the little village has become the headquarters for recruitment, supply, and training for the Franks.

Even though they've been at this for a while, a lot of Hiricio still has a temporary military camp look.  The "real" village is a few hundred people, and a handful od shops, and the lord's manor.  Around that, the "military town" has been superimposed.  There are dozens of tents set up, and many horses grazing.

Heolstor took comfort in the road. He'd been on it so long, at this point, that it almost seemed as much a home as anywhere to him. There was a part of him that took great pleasure from crossing through "wild places" too, a part of him that Lord Strang found growing with every day. The Saxon sat tall but comfortably atop his saddle, Pwyll soaring above - a small dark shadow against the blindingly bright saucer of the sun. From somewhere in the briars a thrush sang, its lyrical voice like dancing windchimes, rising high above the insistent gurgling of the Chier river.

The forest wasn't quiet, and it wasn't peaceful. A stag crossed their path, running for the far hills, joined with everything around in it in a constant struggle to survive.

Behind him Heolstor's banner flew, black raven cavorting across a field of scarlet, its edges barely shifting in the afternoon's stale and windless sky. The standard bearer was the same boy who'd flown it at Beda - a promising young warrior, one Heolstor reminded himself again to keep his eye on. A lord was always in need of more capable warriors.

Slowly the wooded glens and river paths gave way to rolling hills and tents. Soldiers. "Men, form on me!" Heolstor called over his right shoulder, drawing back on his reins to slow his mount and give his soldiers time to form a clear and respectable column. Each horseman fell in on the rider to his front and right, creating clean rows and columns. Strang's men would know this - he'd tried to enforce greater standards of drill and ceremony on them. He'd learned that much from the dwarves.

Heolstor would lead his men into the camp and meet with Gellas. Then, planning for tomorrow would begin.

The display of military discipline impresses people- especially those here who know the look of a genuine military unit, and how to tell it from an ordinary armed mob.

Heolstor's approach brings the attention of the lord of the town.  He is a many with a touch of gray in his short hair, and the the lines and scars of many years of war.  He looks to be in his forties, and his armor just as old- but it has the appearance of forty years of loving care and maintenance, not just wear and tear.

He recognizes at once these are allies, because a few of his own men are with Heolstor's.  He approaches with confidence.

"I am called Gellas, the Steadfast, friend and retainer to Theoderic, son of Clovis.  Welcome to Hiricio.”

The Saxon nodded in recognition, pulling his horse's reins gently to keep it still as Gellas spoke. Heolstor could tell immediately that this Gellas was a man deserving of respect. He liked him, innately recognizing all the things a warrior sees in another of his own caste. A stance like iron. Confidence like an unrelenting river. "...And I am Heolstor, Lord of Lingones and Tullum. Fresh from the battle of Beda - your lord had need of swords and men to wield them, I offered myself and mine." Strang introduced himself and offered Gellas the writ Theoderic had provided, to display proof and purpose indicating his mission.

Behind him the Raven Banner flew, proud and bright scarlet in the day's resplendent sun.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:05, Tue 21 May 2013.

“Swords?  We would say Lances,” Gellas says.

In his travels, Heolstor has learned some of the way the Franks do things.  To them, the horsemen are the cream of the warriors.  Most young men want to be mounted warriors, and the Franks take the training of horses and riders very seriously.  They are in a saddle from a young age.  A horse is an expense.  So is a sword.  So the Franks make more use of cheaper weapons- lances and axes, typically, and some bows.

Gellas has received messages from Theoderic.  He knows what Heolstor is up to even before he sees the letter, but it does confirm that Heolstor is who is says he is.

The Frankish lord has his reservations about Theoderic's plan, he will support them.  He invites Heolstor to dine with his family that evening.

“I cannot support you with men,” he says.  “Theoderic is doing one of his outrageous and daring things.  Only a few men.  But maybe there are other ways.”

He gestures towards the manor house.  "Come on.  We'll have goose."

"Yes, this King Theoderic, he seems given over to bold action. Some would call it brash, but those men do not understand: a good strategy, enacted now with great violence of action, is preferable to the best strategy enacted when opportunity has faded." Strang declared. "That is why soldiers win wars, and not scholars and tired old men."

"I would be happy to," Heolstor bowed his head in thanks "But first I'll have to make arrangements for my men and find them quarters."The Saxon lord couldn't in good conscience let the question of where his men would sleep go unanswered while he enjoyed a fat goose.

"If your offer still stands then, I'll gladly join you Lord Gellas. My only regret being that I did not bring any fine food with which to repay the favor."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:22, Mon 27 May 2013.

Gellas has no fine food either!

His meal is basic, and heavy on meat, bread and cheese.

"Less farming last year than there should have been, and I think that's why Theoderic wants the men at home this spring," he says.  "Can't run on blood and glory forever.  The Romans used to say we never planted orchards.  We're planting one this spring!"

But there is more than farming on his mind.

"You can raid with a small force, and maybe even take a town or two, but how will he hold it?  Gwalthus has held the line at Mos Trajectum for a long time, but there's the Meuse there, and you can't ask for a better defensive line than that.  I think we'll have to whip whomever is there into some kind of militia."

"A militia? I formed one in Lingones this past year," Heolstor added conversationally "Not a simple task: turning a man whose never held a spear or blade into a soldier. Even then, it takes more than pitchforks and bravery to give a man a chance against the Huns." Heolstor pulled a strip of meat off his portion of goose, holding it out over his left shoulder for Pwyll. The crow snatched it up greedily, barely avoiding biting Heolstor's fingers.

"The fyrd, or militia, is important in my homeland. We know it well. How to form it. How to use it."

"It's better than nothing," Gellas says.  "And there may be a man or two left who remembers old days.  If there are... they'll be gray."

Gellas describes the history, some of which Heolstor already knows.

The Huns have held the Rhineland the better part of a century, now.  They have crushed and squeezed and drained the spirit from the Human inhabitants, who live as slaves.  The numbers of Humans has been in steady decline, so the Huns have launched slave raids into the Germanics that still live in the east (causing many Saxons and Angelns to flee) and the Slavs further east.  They took Colonia Agrippina in 459 AD, just 4 years after the Franks had claimed sovereignty over it.  At its height the city was home to 45,000, and now just a fifth of that.

The Huns continued to press westward, against the Franks, but this "northern front" was a lesser priority.  A stalemate persisted for decades.  Then in 493, to coincide with attacks elsewhere, the Huns pushed west, quickly reaching the Meuse River with the Franks stretched too far.  The could go no further.  They consolidated their holdings, and launched repeated attacks at Mos Trajectum but could never take the bridge.

The area between Colonia Agrippina and the Meuse, including Theoderic's objectives, have suffered a lot in the years since.  Two decades of Hun control...

But even so, Gellas holds out hope that there may be some of stout heart and body who might aid Heolstor.  He is willing to contribute some weapons and other equipment, even if he's been told not to send men.

"Weapons and armor - those I can use," Heolstor stated gratefully "I will be glad to turn those spears into soldiers for you. So long as they're meant for a Hunnic heart. Gods willing, they will be enough to meet your king's need." The Saxon cut himself another piece of bread, careful to avoid Pwyll's hungry beak as he ate it. The crow looked nonplussed, feathers ruffling indignantly.

Heolstor regarded Gellas thoughtfully for a moment as he chewed, olive eyes taking measure of the soldier again. He did not know this Gellas. He did not know Theoderic. What they thought of Lingones he couldn't say - but if they succeeded against the Hun, their borders would rest within marching distance of his own.

Abruptly, he carried the conversation in a different direction. "What is King Theoderic's relationship to King Gundobad? Do you think, if peace is won from the Hun, they will bring war to one another? Or will peace last?" Heolstor thought both seemed good men. Theoderic had the makings of a warlord though, the Saxon thought. Warlords found conflict, never straying too far from battle, lest they rust in peace. King Gundobad was not a warrior in the same way - that was true, but he was a shrewd man, the sort to seek advantage where he could.

The greater question, for Heolstor, was what it would all mean for his fledgling domain. Lingones and Tullum were not Burgundian... but they were not Frank either. It seemed to him that should the orcs of Germania and Italia be defeated he would sit astride two unthreatened giants. It was an unspoken worry that Heolstor had held for sometime.

Lord Strang felt that he had good relations with both. Once he had been a vassal to Gundobad - before he carried a secret war North, to Gundobad's benefit. Theoderic seemed fair and just; he had, though not in that king's service, given him his aid in this gambit. Would they remember? Heolstor cut several more hunks of cheese and offered one to Gellas.

He hoped kings had long memories.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:13, Sun 02 June 2013.

At some point, Petra makes her way in, to rejoin Heolstor and the others. 

She sought Heolstor out, and once there was time, she relayed what she had learned.

Some of it.  What she had not been asked to conceal.  It made her uneasy.  She didn't like it.  Actually found she hated keeping secrets from him.  It made her feel a little unclean. The 'right' reasons nonewithstanding. Yet, she had been given a sacred trust, by a being whom she knew was benign.  And gathered that Mosanna's wisdom and insight were something greater than a mere mortal woman, such as herself.  So she would have to console herself with that.  If there came any reason that Heolstor must know the rest, then she would tell him, and abide the consequences, at that time.

But, for now:

"I did contact, and communicate with Mosanna of the Meuse. And here is what I learned- The enemy was driven from the bank of the Meuse, and now they fear it.  We can cross anywhere in safety, because of this.  There is no Hun within leagues of Mos Trajectum's bridge -- for they fear death, there.  But, they do not grasp that Mosanna is of the Meuse, and also the Wurm, and all the other tributaries.   She will help us, if we approach Aquae Granni from along the river. She said to go from the bridge at Mos Trajectum, east upon the main road, and we would soon reach a road that bends south, toward the Aquae Granni.  But, we do not take it.  Instead, we continue east to the Wurm, and then travel as close as is possible to its banks. There, she will conceal and protect us."  Petra, paused and then went on as regarded Corioviallum.

"There, at Corioviallum, she cannot offer us aid.  The town is too distant from her waters. Coriovallum has apparently paid the price for the defense at the Meuse.  With every frustration, the Huns returned angered, and the town suffered for it.  Now there are few surviving Humans, and their plight is miserable.  This may draw the attention of our allies, if they hear of it, and the relief of those unfortunates would be a blessed thing.  But it must not become the priority. We must focus on freeing Aquae Granni from the Huns. That is the thing that will help everyone, collectively." And yet more:

"There, I am told, the champion of the Huns is a giant. A mighty warrior, the like of a Jotunheimer. He has several times repelled the efforts of the Elves.  But, his power is made greater by the amulet he wears, which he thieved from the temple.  It is an old, old, gift of Belenus.  The wearer can bring to himself the injuries suffered by others, even a death blow that has felled another, though it must be done quickly.  Blows that would slay Orcs or Humans outright are but pin pricks to him.  His own forces and minions can be very hard to kill, consequently. We must be wary of that, in combating them." 

We will assume Petra catches up with Heolstor just past Hiricio, when they are turning north towards Belgica.

In their dinner, Heolstor learned about Gellas.  Lord Gellas of Hiricio, officially, but just Gellas to friends.

A wise warrior-king, such as Clovis certainly was, knows one of the secrets to raising princes.  Put them on the battlefield early, and get them used to the sights and sounds and the feel of it, but pair them with veteran mentors who know how things get done.

Gellas was Theoderic's mentor, and has the title of "commander of troops"- technically, he is the commanding officer of Theoderic's army.  It is a full time job.  Even in the "off seasons" Gellas is concerned with the quality of the young men just joining, and their horses and equipment.  He determines the training activities, and how to pay and equip men with the meager budget they have.

Gellas takes his role as mentor very seriously, but he tends to be reserved if he thinks Theoderic is making a mistake.

* * * * * * * * *

Now, they are crossing the relatively empty stretch between Theoderic's land and Belgica.  This is technically the land of Theoderic's brother Clothaire... but no one is really paying attention, anymore.

Heolstor rode tall in his saddle, thoughtful, and distant. His second, a veteran of his own campaign, watched their route and informed him of their progress as they traveled. His conversation with Gellas had been pleasant at first - but its ending bothered him. Things had been left unsaid. Worrisome things.

Then Petra made her appearance, and despite himself Heolstor seemed to lose some of his distance. "Then that is the route we must take. I would not doubt the word of a Goddess." Word of Coriovallum and its fate seemed to bother him - he said nothing of interfering or avoiding the town, clearly bothered by the suggestion that they leave those humans to their fate for now. His brow furrowed in part even as he nodded agreeably.

"This amulet - not a weapon to let sit in the hands of a Hun." Heolstor admitted. "I am sure the bright one would agree. His gift was not meant for the beast that wears it now." 

"I spoke to Gellas, Theoderic's second. I asked him of the relation of his king to King Gundobad. If there was cause to suspect conflict between them, should the Huns be defeated." Heolstor mentioned, eyes cast to the South. Towards Lingones. Towards Tullum. "He had no answer."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:35, Tue 04 June 2013.

(Gellas strictly avoids political speculations.  Not wise for someone in his position.  And, he is not the sort to think about another king, far away. There are immediate things to worry about- this year's crop of young men, and the status of horses and weapons.)

A little time jump here to skip some dull travel...

It is a ten day trip from Hiricio to Mos Trajectum.

For the first part of it, into the wide, wild stretch of land separating the territory of Belgica and Gaul, they see little.  Traveling is easy- the road is the straightest, flattest length of paving Heolstor and Petra have ever seen.  For miles, it is as if the Roman engineers were superstitious about not wavering from geometric perfection, not for an inch.   They conceded to geography only when they had no other choice.

Perhaps it was this attitude, that nature was something to be defeated by civilization, that put them at odds with the Elves and the Fey, creating divisions the Huns and other Orcs would exploit.

The towns of Belgica are lined up neatly along the road, nicely spaced a day apart.   Just enough for caravans to leave one gate in the morning, and be safely within the next gate before evening. Belgica is built along two lines that meet at Mos Trajectum in the northeast.  The coastal route links Ganda and Anteverpia, and the inland route, the route Heolstor is following, runs through Bagacaum, Castrilocus, and Bruxzella, and then Tungrorum before meeting the other route at Mos Trajectum.

The convergence of the two main roads there, along with the Meuse River, and then the short road to the Rhine River, is the reason for the great strategic importance of Mos Trajectum.  The more Heolstor learns of the geography of Belgica, the more he sees why the place has such a high priority to Theoderic.

Theoderic’s messages, delivered early on with the aid of a winged courier from Lucimburic, have alerted the Dukes of Belgica to Heostor’s presence, that he comes as an ally and not an intruder.  Heolstor finds the nobles along the way cordial but not eager to press into Heolstor’s business- Theoderic has not shared what he intends to do, even with them.

They provide grain for horses and food and ale for men, and other support as is the duty demanded by their king, but avoid any involvement.

Until they reach the town of Tungrorum, one day out of Mos Trajectum.

Tungrorum is the smallest of Belgica’s six Duchies, with less than 10% of Belgica’s population, and no large cities.  About 25 miles long east-west, it can be crossed in a single day.  Once, it was far more important, although the town of Tungrorum never had more than 5,000 people.  Tungrorum was the regional administrative capital for a large portion of Belgica, when it was a Roman Province.  But in the 4th century, threats from the east caused Rome to make Mos Trajectum the priority, because its bridge location enabled to control traffic.  Much of the population fled when Roman control here collapsed, as they did not believe that the Franks would sustain the area’s historic prospertity.  As the town declined, it lost its major symbols of power one by one- in the 4th century, Servatius was the most powerful cleric in Belgica.  A century later, only a few minor clerics tend the almost abandoned temples here.

Now the Duchy consists of the town of Tungrorum, the smaller town of Thuin, and some outlying farmsteads, with a total population only about 3,300 people.

This place is ruled buy a Duchess named Lunelle, whose family was decimated by the Huns.  She is the first noble to extend an invitation to Heolstor and Petra.  Perhaps she knows… perhaps she merely suspects that with only one day of travel left in Belgica, whatever objective Theoderic has assigned them must be close.

Tungrorum has a very peculiar look.  It is a small town living in its own half empty remains.  As the population shrank, they abandoned the least desirable buildings first.  Every person is wealthy, if they are judged by the size of the buildings they dwell in.  No one lives in a peasant hovel.  But it gives Tungrorum an oddly empty feel.  The town really ought to have more people in it.

The Duchess’s palace is the old Basilica, where the Romans had their regional government center.  Like so much of Tungrorum, it seems too big for its current purpose.

Lunelle’s staff is small- just a few guards and servants, and some family members who act as advisors and retainers.  The halls of Tungrorum Basilica seem empty.  Lunelle has had to mind her budget, and a large palace staff is an extravagance she would rather avoid.

Her senior servant, Elias Legonas, was scribe and secretary to her parents.  Now he has taken on new duties.  He is the general manager of various things needing management, and the butler.

It is he who meets Heolstor and Petra as they arrive, and brings them to the meeting room, where Lunelle, in her worn leather armor not looking at all like a Duchess, waits with several of her warriors.

Elias starts with the necessary introductions, introducing Heolstor and Petra as leader of a small troop in the service of King Theoderic, here with ‘special trust’ of the king.  Then he introduces Lunelle, Duchess of Tungrorum, and Brennus, her kinsman, who acts as chamberlain, scholar, and emissary for the little Duchy.

”It isn’t hard for me to guess why you are here,” Lunelle says when Elias is through.  After the battles of the last season, Theoderic must want to send his patrols across the Meuse River.   It must be that, because you don’t look like whom he would choose for a diplomatic mission to the north.   We’ve been across, you know.  My warriors, and Duke Gwalthus’s… the Meuse has been a fine barrier but you don’t trust all your defense to a barrier.  We’ve patrolled on the other side.  I want to offer aid.  I must.  There are experienced fighters here who have been where I believe you intend to go.  And Brennus is very wise.  He has kept and studied the reports our patrols bring back, for years.”

Brennus, a young man in Gallo-Roman style dress who looked oddly unmartial given his surroundings leaned forward. Shrewd hazel eyes studied the newcomers before flicking back to the Duchess. If he questioned his cousin's offer of aid he did not voice those concerns.

Turning back to Heolstor and Petra the young nobleman spoke up: "Pray most noble friends, tell us your mission so that we can offer what aid we can."

Heolstor entered the meeting room, weary but not diminished by the road. Atop his shoulder Pwyll made his post - dark feathers bright in the Basilica's torchlight. "Your knowledge, and your warriors, will both be valuable." The Saxon acknowledged. Strang looked to Brennus; eyes trailing the other man's movement. There was something about the other man that made him seem unprepared for war and a campaign. Short and close as it might be.

Perhaps he was wrong though. Heolstor had been wrong before, and he'd be wrong again.

Heolstor bowed his head respectfully, one hand at the hilt of his blade and the other at his side. "I must thank you, too, for the hospitality of your household. The road had been long, with much of it left"

There was a pause then. Careful, deliberate, and thoughtful. "I know not what can be shared of our mission. So: I will speak only in generalities. We go to the Hun's land. There, we will strike against him. To remind him that, just as us, he can bleed."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:09, Fri 07 June 2013.

Brennus looked equal parts uneasy and hopeful. "The way to fight the Hun is not on a battlefield of his choosing; the dark arts of spying, poisons and deception are better allies to us than weight of armour." He turned Lunelle.

"Cousin have I not long said we must find a way to turn the Huns against each other rather than confront them directly?"

"You guess closer to our purpose than you know." Heolstor admitted. "It is the true objective of our mission to increase division among the Huns. To cause the many warlords of their empire to lose trust in their Emperor's strength and will to protect them. A lord who cannot protect his vassals will not long hold any."