The "Contested" Territories - Rondon vs Zephyr

Duke Nicolas Soult was given what he needed -- men to lead, men to conquer. He had met with Queen Xiomara of Rondón 's general, and the man rode beside him now.

The man was quiet and reserved, almost as if he'd had his tongue taken, and when he spoke, his voice was deep -- like the sound of distant thunder. He was shaved bald, but kept a wealthy mustache and beard, and wore the colors of Rondon proudly -- perhaps, too proudly. He was battle scarred, with serious blue eyes that never, ever appreciated a joke.

The men had been marching for two weeks, and they all knew that Duke Nicolaus Soult was not only one of thos terrible Gauldish, but he had also bought and paid for his place in beautiful Rondon.

He would have much to prove, and they would be waiting to see how he would handle it.

They were looking over the view from the thick woods they had emerged from and there was a village visible -- but it was not a Rondi-allied one. Not that Nicolas would know that, but General Fedaro Castille did.

"Ah, our first target. How shall we take it, Duke?" the rumbling man asked, swinging those bright blue eyes to Nicolas as he wondered about the fate of the seemingly-quiet, sleepy village.

General Fedaro seemed displeased -- he went to war for the purpose of spilling blood, but he wasn't going to second-guess Duke Nicolas Soult's commands.

"Very well," Fedaro said, as if he wanted to spit instead of agree. "We'll cut off the... stragglers." He frowned. Fedaro did not enjoy chasing down stragglers, but did enjoy fighting. It seemed the infantry would have that today.

Nodding his head to the Duke, he turned his horse around and road to the light cavalary, speaking in swift Rondi. How was the Duke's Rondi? He might have heard his name mentioned and other names spoken.

So far, the village had not noticed their approach, but they soon would once the rumble of horse hooves caught them, and the local anti-Rondi militia within the village began to gather arms!

It was the drums that the villagers and the local militia herd first, taking their sleepy day into a bright and chaotic one very quickly. Panic swept through the villagers, at first, but soon they were an organized ant hill as women and children fled into the homes and the "protectors" of the village -- some Rondi by blood, but not by chosen loyalty -- took up whatever weapons they could.

Someone was shouting orders. They thought it was another skirmish, and a single young man on a nag was able to race out of the village in the opposite direction -- no doubt to try and warn of what was to come.

The skirmish was quick, however. Lord Fedaro Castille's cavalry did as they were told, rounding up all else that tried to run from the village as they parted like water upon a stone and circled it. He sent riders after the boy on the horse as well, but most of the effort was on containment of the village.

None of Fedaro's men were killed, or even seriously wounded as they'd been tasked with merely running down fleeing squirrels in the Rondi General's opinion. One fleeing man was kill, and another was wounded, but that was the only mortality and casualty. All else were incapacitated, and Fedaro grumbled that he couldn't be a part of the militia marching on the village rife with warriors and archers and die-hard loyalists.

(Leaving it up to you to RP how the inner-village battle went down!)

The battle flashed hot and wild for a moment, but it took the villagers almost no time to understand that they were overwhelmed. They could only hope that their messenger had gotten out in time, but they also knew that once their wagons and other riders stopped coming from the village, the Zephyrians would be on notice.

... not to mention, smoke was billowing up from a single home and farm that had been lit on fire during the debacle. It was hard to say who it was that had done it, but the villagers were only too happy to blame it on the Rondi.

General Fedaro Castille road back into town, his cavalry still fanned about the edges of the village. The Rondi followed their orders as they were told, a sleek unit of fighting. It seemed that the Rondi were only too used to battle, not so much because they were a war-mongering society, so much as they were most definitely an exploratory one.

And, it seemed, a conquering one.

"The village is secured," Fedaro said in his usual grumbling voice. The villagers here were a broader mix of skin tones and color shades, with blonde and redheads peppered in among the brunettes, and a few of them with tipped ears or mild tusks to suggest that these border villagers were a little more "mixed" with the wandering humanoid-esque races that sometimes ventured into the woods and mountains here.

"A messenger slipped through but I have my best riders out to secure him. Shall we execute the village militia?" Fedaro asked, and although his voice was as grim as usual, it was a little hopeful that the Duke would agree to such bloodlust.

The Lieutenant watched as Duke Nicolas dealt with the war-mongering General Fedaro, and saw the wisdom of Queen Xiomara for bringing a third party into the dispute.

Stained with smoke and sweat from the turmoil, Diego had dismounted from his horse, his boots flecked with mud as he made his way over to the men, taking his time as he did not want to interrupt whatever the men in power were saying to each other.

It was only after the Duke had finished speaking that Diego spoke quickly to the General in a quick Rondi cadence. General Fedaro nodded to the Lieutenant, then turned his horse to give orders to his men in further securing and restructuring the town.

"You know," Diego said, his Rondi accent evident on his Common words, "The Rondi and the Zephyr have been fighting this battle a long time, no? At least every Rondi man knows of someone who has died by the Zephyr. It is what fuels the bloodlust. I think perhaps, you might need me to help with the village elders, unless -- do you speak Zephyy?"

The cavalryman lifted his brows in question up at the Duke atop his very impressive horse, while Rondi soldiers went to pull the village elders into a house commandeered for use of the Duke.

Diego grinned and put a hand to his chest. "It would be an honor, my lord. If you will give me a moment." He bowed his head in respect, given Duke Nicolas Soult was still on his steed, and walked back over to his own.

There was a quiet Rondi language spoken between Diego and his squire, as well as a few other men that were near him. He wasn't trying to hide the conversation, so if any of the Gauldish knights that had come with the Duke -- or if even the Duke himself -- could speak Rondi, they'd know that he was arranging for the quartering of the men, informing them of their plans, and to be respectful of the more gentle Gauldish breed.

He turned back to the Duke, casually wresting his hand upon the blade of his sword. "Whenever you are ready, sir."

The meeting with the Zephyr elders of the village was held in the long house. The scent of burning and the sounds of the Rondi and Gauldish men working outside could be heard. Rondi men had gone through the long house and had taken all furs and all cloth down from the windows, and had opened them wide.

Sun streamed in, and the elders of the village were seated at one end of the table, one empty seat between each of them. They were not... abused but they were not treated gently, either. Unlit antler-"chandeliers" hung from the ceiling, and the walls were decorated with tapestries no doubt woven by the women who worked there. Herbs hung from beams in each place, and there was a large hearth at the end of the table where benches were placed all around it. There was no throne, no place of power to sit.



There were only four elders, and all of them were either aged, or heavily maimed, from wars and circumstances that were far older than the current one still outside their long house. They stared at the Rondi who came in, and at Duke Nicolas Soult as well, and there was open animosity and hate, regardless of the pretty speech the Gauldish man gave.

After all, they didn't speak Gauldish, or common. Not this far inland. Not this crowded with wood. Not with these Zephyy-Rondi-Mixture of people.

Diego moved into the room with the Duke and saw how things had been arranged. For Rondi soldiers he recognized, he nodded to, and they nodded in return. All of them were wary of Duke Nicolas Soult. Some felt he was too lenient, others felt he was too ignorant of the history behind this war.

Diego's own opinion was still up in the air. He supposed that it was a good idea on the Queen's part to have someone unfamiliar with the Rondi-Zephyy relations come in to command the men. At this point, the bad blood had boiled up to a point where Diego wasn't altogether sure that General Fedaro wouldn't have ordered the burning of the village, if not the massacre of all of their able-bodied men and women.

He took a seat beside the handsome, foreign duke and looked at the Zephyy elders. They were stone faced, unhappy, disgusted as much as the Rondi soldiers were by them. A Rondi man left the room to order a young girl to play servant for them, determined not to serve the Zephyy in any case. She wasn't treated roughly, but she was already intimidated and cowed, and served them all food from the larders that the Rondi had won from the Zephyy village.

Diego translated to the elders, and as the elders listened to Diego, one of them spit in Diego's direction. The Rondi soldiers inside stiffened, wanting to react but not doing so underneath the Duke's merciful expression.

Diego licked his lip and looked down at the glob of spittle on the table and with great patience, wiped it away with the cloth of a napkin nearby and tried to finish speaking, but another Zephyy elder interrupted him.

The Lieutenant let out a sigh as the Zephyy spoke, then leaned back in his seat to look at the duke. He paraphrased.

"They say that they will not listen to the Rondi, or a... lover... of the Rondi. We have no place here, and we will not stay here because King Aron will roust us." If the Duke did his homework, he'd know that King Aron was a very young king, close to eighteen or nineteen years in age, and the current Monarch of Zephyr like his father before him and his father before him and his father before him.

Diego opened his mouth to respond to the Duke, then closed it with a small chuckle. He wasn't offended by the Zephyy -- he had expected this kind of behavior from the conquered people. Still, he listened to what the Duke had to say, nodded, and spoke to the Zephyy elders.

One of them tried to interrupt again, but a Rondi soldier behind the elders put a hand on the man's shoulder and clenched tightly. Diego continued to speak to him in his low cadence (think Antonio Banderas!), calm and collected.

When he was finished, they looked between each other, and one elder -- the woman -- spoke.

Diego turned to look at the Duke. "She wants to know where you are from, and what your name is. She also wants to know which Rondi general will be in charge of the village once we move on in our campaign." Diego could have answered all of these questions, but it was not up to him to answer.

It was only up for the smooth Rondi lieutenant to translate.