Castle Winter

The lord stood from his seat and returned his sword belt, which was laying next to the stump, to its rightful place on his waist. He also donned his cloak carefully checking the straps. The cloak was one of the few things that the House of winter keep in tradition. Designed for battle in the cold and protection from weather through the rest of the year. His horse was nearby tethered to a tree. A fine beast, pure white save for a small brown mark in the center of its forehead.

The lord mounted his horse and from the heightened position observed the handy work of the villagers and his house. They had expanded the fields nearly doubled. His village was growing. Many of the women were pregnant including the lords aunt. The last of his family really. He had several cousins and other distant relatives throughout the village, but his aunt was like his mother.

The lord moved his horse away from the fields and rode a slow trot back to the castle.

His Men-at-Arms would be gathered and ready for the evening patrol. A force of only 20. But each of the men were worth 4 and under Crovan's command they proved to be worth over 100. A fact proven 7 years ago when a large group of bandits attacked Castle Winter hoping to take it over as a base of operations.

Crovan was thinking about the fight. It was his greatest triumph and failure. There were 113 bandits, he only knew this because they counted the bodies. A child was assigned as a look out in the castle's main tower, as is often done as punishment. If the bandits hadn't entered a clearing in the woods and was spotted by the child... The story would be different.

A bell was rang. Everyone knew what it meant. A simple rule understood by the village; get to the castle or you'll die. Men-at-Arms quickly gathered their gear, ancient but well maintained armor worn by the first of the House of Winter's men on their arrival to the castle. The bandits however were drawn by the bell.

The castle was built long before siege engines, low walls to allow better shots from archers, only one entrance to the castle to reduce enemy numbers attacking at any one time. These are Castle Winter's only defensive features. Perfect for this fight. Men-at-Arms manned their position. A defensive line across the entrance to the castle. Crovan, only 17, stood among them.

His thoughts were interrupted however by arriving at his destination. The lord dismounted his steed and strode into the castle. A stable boy tending to the horse.

Lord Crovan noticed the visitor. A man of his dress a rare sight in this area. Crovan, mindful of strangers placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. The Lord of House Winter turned to the visitor, a curios look in his eye. Crovan strode forward, a prideful walk, head held high. He greeted the stranger, "Welcome to Castle Winter. I am Lord Crovan, what business does a man dressed so fine have here? So far into the wilderness?"

Crovan watched the man bow but did not do so in return, however when the man extended his hand Crovan simply looked at it for a moment.

The man before the lord was nothing but courteous so he shook the man's hand keeping a steady left hand on the hilt of his sword. When he made contact however a familiar urge welled up in him. The man was a user of magic, Corvan could feel subtle tingle in the man's skin. What kind of magic was unknown however. Crovan's eyes took a sharp look upon uncovering this new danger. Better to get it out in the air. After shaking the hand firmly he released. allowing

"A trader and a mage at that," Crovan spoke with slight smirk; proud of his abilities to identify a magic user. The smirk faded as he continues, returning to the curios expression earlier, "Well we have little to trade here save for furs. But sold to the right places they can bring in a decent sum."

Crovan motioned with his right hand, extending his arm toward the castle. "Perhaps we can discuss it over a meal."

Corvan though about the mage's request. Chances were that the others of his party were gifted with magic. They seemed honest enough, and should they attempt an attack Lord Crovan would be able to shutdown the use of magic. Crovan would have the advantage.

The Lord reached his decision quick enough to not seem rude but the pause would have been enough to show his hesitation. "They are welcome in Winter's halls." Crovan turned his back to the man, a show of immense trust and a show that he fully believed himself safe. A passive show of strength; Something to raise his position in trade negotiations, if only by a small bit. The Lord simply turned strode for the castle expecting the Mage and his companions to follow.

He entered his castle the entrance was divided two, an architectural defense against soldiers invading the castle, one of the other side a grand hall stretched out before Crovan and his guests. At the back a simple throne which was only used when the Lord's of Winter would settle disputes from the villagers. Be hind the throne a wall of glass. Once shattered and scattered the shards had been glued together with black steel forming a scater web of iron through the multi colored glass.

As he entered the castle he nodded to guard. The Man-at-Arms had witnessed the exchange and on the lord's signal the soldier moved away from the entrance and ordered the table brought out and meal be prepared.

The tables and chairs were brought out first by a couple of servants giving the visitors and the lord somewhere to sit while they waited on the meal to be prepared.

Crovan took a seat at the head of the table and motioned with his left hand to the seat on his left. "Please sit and let us discuss what kind of deal you might have in mind."

Corvan placed his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together in front of his mouth thinking the offer over. The trade route was desperate;y needed. They had plenty of furs to trade but the request for grain would be troublesome. Though easily solved...

Crovan gently set his hands to the table, "To be honest we just doubled our farmland and the expansion weakened our grain stores because of the extra planting. If you would wait until the next harvest to begin collecting grain I see your offer as fair. However I must ask; what kind of protection do you use for these caravans. We have had many bandits wandering the land. We would both take a loss should your caravans be raided." Crovan spoke the truth in this. Bandits were an ever present issue in "The Lands of Winter," though once found the Lord would slay them immediately. The problem seemed to be recurring however.

Crovan looked the mage expecting a proper response. His blue eyes seemed bright against the greens, yellows and reds streaming into through the window. and the shadows cast by candles in the room made the man seem somewhat intimidating to most men. This was not on purpose, an accidental event from the time of day.

Crovan listened intently. As the mage finished Crovan shifted in his chair a little and the shadows that made the man so immense lost their power. "I am like of mind in this. You may be transporting and selling the goods, but they are the House of Winter's goods. I can devote ten of my Men-at-Arms to this trade route. They are high quality warriors and the seeing our banner will help keep the smarter bandits from troubling you."

Crovan paused for a moment and debated telling the mage of his men's abilities. Cooperation would be key to this deal and Crovan spoke once more, "You should know, especially since you use magic to defend your caravans. My men have the ability stop the use of magic. It shouldn't be an issue in these wilds, no anymore at least."

Crovan finished his words and almost on queue a couple of serving girls brought out the meal. A simple but well made meal of spit-roasted wild boar, mushrooms cooked in the beast's drippings, along with steamed vegetables that were salted lightly; broccoli, carrots, and cauliflower. The serving girls placed plates in front of each of the men along with a bowl of cheese sauce. They quickly passed out utensil's carved, with great skill, out of wood. The boar was already sliced and ready to be moved on their plates.

Crovan looked to the mages, "I may be a Lord but as you know we are out here in the wilds, this is the best I can offer for unexpected visitors." A serving girl took Crovan's plate and fixed it for him. Though normally he would fix his own, aswell as fill his table, along with several more tables, with his villagers for the meal; they knew how to act when visitors were about. They had to make the Lord look more Lord-like.

He was pleased at the Lord's decision to grant them ten soldiers. But he was also surprised at such an idea, for the Lord appeared to house only a small garrison; this would seem strange as it may seem as if he was overstretching his obviously skilled army with such a venture. He decided not to ask, for it may appear mocking to speak of this fact. It was of no importance as well, he did not want their problems to become our problems. 
He told his appreciation to the Lord via slow nods of the head, to indicate intrigue and the understanding of the man's point.

Anti-magic was a rare phenomena, a tool only used by the extremely rich, gods, or very lucky people. It was of course to great shock to the pyromancers to hear that such a thing was employed by the soldiers of the place. They must have found some unique way to manifest it, at least far more easily then it conventionally is. Of course, it would be of no burden if it were to be used when the caravan would be attacked, as pyromancers are proficient with weapons of many kinds; relying solely on magic is a fool's choice, for magic is unpredictable and can fail when it is most needed.

Excitement was beset upon the faces of the pyromancers, as the meals arrived. They had barely eaten anything, but hard breads, cheeses and lemons (to counter scurvy). It had been a months trip using the drakes, as they had multitudes of detours on the way to the castle, mostly considering their seemingly criminal status concerning Isra. It made some people distrustful of them, which caused complications, as they had to avoid them.
Saliva built itself up within the mouths of the mages. The food, even though they were not too grand, was still a welcoming sight.

They were anxious to eat anything they could. The head Mage kept his demeanour, but it was obvious that the other mages were exceedingly hungry, to an outside observer. The head Mage responded with great cordiality to the waiter, politeness in check.
"Oh yes, just put everything you can upon the plate, for I am not bothered, please."
The other mages agreed with his decision, choosing to say exactly what the head Mage had said, however worded slightly differently.

The head Mage looked towards the lord, eyeing him for a second; he had not taken a good look at the man before. He was thin, lean and slightly pale, such as might someone might expect from someone who lives in a cold place such as this. What alerted him the most was his resemblance to the waiter, that had came by a few moments earlier. He couldn't place his finger on it, it was something to do with the face in some way or another. His hazy mind could not conjure it up, so he left it alone.

Remembering to say something, as staring would be very rude, he asked a simple question.
"Where is the wine, Lord Crovan?"

The lord lifted his mug of carved wood and fine metal and examined its contents, "Welda makes the best spiced mead. Savor it gentelmen, it is a fine sweet drink much like wine. We do not drink it often but when we do, Welda always makes it." He took slow and long drink.