Baron Ettienne de Chauvier looked over the wreckage that was once Redpool Field near Udo's Falls. The doughty remnants of the Dwarven army limping home. The insistent yapping of the Stirland 'Advisor' telling him to mount and run down the Mountainfolk as they fled was becoming a nuisance.
He quashed the urge the crush the man's larynx.
Looking back on the retreating forms, de Chauvier was once again impressed with the bravery and honour of the Dwarfs. 'In another time, and with another man's coin in my pocket I would be honoured to fight beside such warriors. Mind you that, sirrah, and give my compliments to Herr Graf on his victories elsewhere this day. Landon! Mussafah! Gather the Lances, we ride for home this very hour!"
With quick salutes his captains quickly began to assess the needs of the Lance. It would not take them long. The key to success on the field has always been success before and after the engagement, de Chauvier thought for not the first time.
Watching his aides bark orders and feeling again the quick thrill of pride at how his troops once again handle discipline even after a day like this, de Chauvier reluctantly turned back to the apopyleptic 'noble'. It was necessary sometimes to travel to this decadent land to the north of his beloved Fronwyn in the lands referred to here, as the Border Princes. Necessary, but rarely enjoyable.
"You can't.. You musn't! Graf will be furious for this treachery! You will be run down like the mang..."
The man's words were cut short like the air when de Chauvier's exquisite rapier suddenly appeared under Danton's chin.
His words were calm and his tone reasonable but there was no mistaking the threat underneath. "I had a contract with Martin himself. Ten engagements, ten. I will trust the full funds will be transferred to my Estalian accounts soon. Failure to provide full funds, including bereavements to my fallen warriors families will be considered a breach of contract and honour. It has been my privilege to fight for the honour of your God and your cause, but that time has ended. I trust you will find safe passage on your own" de Chauvier's smile might have been to instill confidence but it had the exact opposite effect on the now sweating Danton.
"I er.. I shall express your compliments personally"
"See that you do." The man's existence was already fading from the former Grail Knight's mind. His attention on his odd assortment of mounted troops as they gathered for final Inspection, waiting his signal to travel back to the delights of home, of Fronwyn.
de Chauvier smiled as they stood tall in their mounts. The hard dark men of Araby with their curved swords as long as a man, side by side with the Knights of Brettonia who had travelled with him so long ago to free Fronwyn from the Orcs who were terrorizing it. "Too good to leave," he replied afterwards and the knights agreed. Next to the Knights were the Knights of the Empire to the North, good men, they'd learned a lot in their time with the Lances, now fiercely loyal to a man to him. Pistoliers, Brettonian Squires, even a small contingent of the so-called Knights of the "White Wolf". All had come to join him, leaving past loyalties behind. All now firmly believed in his vision that what mattered most was the heart of the man, not his birthplace or station. That, and a good fight, he laughed!
"Riders of the Lance! We have fulfilled our contract with honour! We have dealt with a brave and strong foe and have been victorious! You have all once again proved my faith and trust in your courage and skill! Now we ride for Home!"
With that the Lance turned as one and thundered into the night leaving a bewildered and nervous Danton alone in the dark...
(its been great guys, but life beckons. Go Stirland!)
