Marshal Of The Guard

"Formation, FACE LEFT!"
Expressionless and his light axe raised in respectful two-handed fore position, Gaeljwen twisted abruptly left, the banner of House Vadirska fluttering in the chill wind above him. The faces of all the grim men, in full battle armor and marching order, stood in ranks five wide and twenty deep, a long column that filled the outer courtyard. The black stones of the House stood tall and powerful on both sides, the thick walls and inner keep looking down as if surveying the small army below. Putting Gaeljwen's one hundred man battalion aside, four more similar battalions were already organized and marching, grimly striding around the courtyard to the front court where their audience, of about half a dozen, was waiting.
"Formation, FOWARD!" Gaeljwen's captain barked. Jyonahal, in rank beside him, seemed to flinch a little underneath the grim mask of a carl guard, but Gaeljwen showed no emotion. In unison, Countess India's Huscarl guard moved forward, moving slowly but surely across the cold outer grounds.
The small, but grand march of House Vadirska's standing guard looking imperial enough, though compared to the thousands of House Davardi it was a small sum. Each man was dressed in the usual leather and light mail, over which some warm furs were worn, to bite back the slightly cool winds. From a short sword in the heavy belt, to a heavy shield on the back, to the small fighting axe in both gloved hands, each man was heavily armed to the teeth and especially knew how to use them. Perhaps a small army, but a tough one, to say the least. House Vadirska was not taken lightly, especially in the northern half of Savarica and south of Kire`falreadis.
The captain of the battalion, who marched in front with the house banner in one hand and his sword in the other, reached the center of the southwest courtyard. He abruptly turned.
"Formation, LEFT! MARCH!" He contined on his striaght pace, behind the second battalion and in front of his own, with Gaeljwen, Jyonahal, and the other front line soldiers marching just behind him. On reaching the center, naturally, they all turned abruptly to the left and continued their relentless pace, into the main front courtyard, and in front of the high dais of the inner keep. Where a few choice figures stood, surveying the display.

As Countess India, two large huscarl guards on either side, walked slowly out through the massive double doors and onto the dais, in the cool wind, Commander Aaron and the councilor from before, Sesircas, stood waiting to greet her. Already the first battalion was marching past in full regalia, their marching feet shaking the courtyard slightly.
The countess blinked and stepped out quietly between the two, her face quiet as she surveyed the soldiers parading before her. Aaron nodded, a small hint of pride on his features. This was, after all, his element.
"My lady, your guard and standing army!" He announced proudly, as the first battalion finished, and the second rounded the corner. The countess nodded to him, a brief, gentle smile on her lips for a moment before her eyes turned again to the marching men.
"...A strong sight, Commander." She replied. The councilor beside her, Sesircas, was a diplomat and a politician, not a war commander, and so he looked on with curious but not overly zealous interest, like a farmer in the fields idly watching a strange troop of elves pass by on the road. He seemed interested, but looked as though he might be happier elsewhere.
When the first battalion passed through, Aaron raised his gauntleted hand and motioned for the second to march past, the Countess's banners flying in the cool wind. "Second battalion, forward!" He shouted. The captain relayed the command back to his troops. Trembling slightly because of the cold, the Countess shivered and pull her velvet cloak of dark blue and fur around her a little more closely, her dark hair blowing slightly in the breeze.
After a moment's silence, the sounds of the marching men ringing in their ears, she turned slightly to Huscarl Commander Aaron again, with a smile. "Well done, Aaron, they look like strong men in fine shape." She paused, "I'm sure they'll protect our lands well!"
Aaron's own smile was warm, but slightly grim. "Oh, they will, my lady..."
"Providing House Davardi doesn't get tired of them." Sesircas put in gloomily. He recieved only a glare from the huscarl commander before the three and their officers fell silent again.
The second battalion ended. He motioned for the next one.
"Third, MARCH!" He called. The shout was echoed and relayed.
After a moment's pause, suddenly the countess's political councilor turned abruptly to face the army general with a questioning look.
"Is this the battalion that he is in? The boy?"
Aaron studied him for a moment, and then nodded. "The marked boy? Yes."
Turning again to face the marching battalions, the councilor nodded slowly, as if deciding to himself. It wasn't long before he spoke again.
"Have that boy report to the upper archives after this is over. He needs to keep up with his learning."
"I will." Aaron replied. The countess, her dark, gentle eyes surveying the scene below them in the courtyard, nodded quickly.
"There he is, the bright-haired lad." She murmured. The others turned.
Gaeljwen wasn't hard to see, one smaller, golden-haired lad in the front ranks with the other larger, tougher trained huscarl veterans, standing out like a weed in a cornfield. When he nearly stumbled on something and came that close to breaking line (for which he could be seriously put in trouble in the middle of a marshaling), she couldn't suppress a smile. A boy, for all that.

As he marched past, Gaeljwen stole a quick glance up at the dais before it faded out behind him. The three or four regal figures, a few men in armor, an older man in rich robes, and naturally the very Countess herself, dressed in shimmering blue, watching them depart. When he saw she was looking his way, as if studying the departing men in armor, he quickly ducked back into line.
As soon as they turned the corner, out of sight of the spectator dais and as the fourth battalion turned the corner on display, Gaeljwen's battalion fell apart, the men halting their impressive marching and immediately putting away their axes. Their part of the show over, they seemed ready to go back to the warm barracks and return to their dice games. The captain himself, after handing the Vadirska banner to a nearby page, seemed more than ready to follow example, unstrapping his sword belt and striding towards the armory.
"Well, that was some show. Five minutes of marching past our lady herself." Jyonahal grunted, putting away his own axe. "She didn't seem too impressed, either."
Gaeljwen shrugged. A small smile came to his lips. "This business was Commander Aaron's idea, not hers..."
"Well, she has little reason to worry about the army." Another veteran soldier, nearby, an older huscarl who had been in service for many a year called out. "When her father was ruling, he was much stricter, and he personally oversaw his forces." The other grinned, wearily shouldering his axe as he spoke to the young men. "let me assure you, now that the countess leaves her military duties to the huscarl general, you've got it quite easy."
"Besides, she is the one that pays you." Gaeljwen nudged his comrade playfully. With a snort, the other young man nodded and shouldered his own axe.
Suddenly Jyonahal grinned. "Here, take this back to the armory for me." He shoved his own axe in Gaeljwen's face, causing him to sputter and grab it hastily. "While I go warm up..." He paused, slowly, suddenly looking past his friend's shoulder at something behind him.
Gaeljwen's eyes narrowed. He turned around abruptly, to see what it was. And abruptly saluted.
Commander Aaron stood behind him, surveying the lads with a critical eye, though his face wasn't entirely without a hint of a smile. "Gaeljwen?"
"Yes, commander!" The other replied hurriedly, standing as straight as he could.
"Excellent display today. You're ordered to report to Councilor Sesircas in the library, immediately." He rapped out quickly, but not unkindly, and laid a hand on his shoulder before striding away, hurrying to catch the captain of the guard before he disappeared into the armory.
There was a silence, as Gaeljwen wondered idly what this was about. Probably another book-learning session, he guessed...already, strangely, the elders of the castle had put him through a few of those. They weren't the first thing he would like to be doing...but it was better than watching the others play dice games in the barracks or practicing with the captain at swordplay.
He smiled grimly and turned again to Jyonahal. "Here, YOU take these." He thrust both axes back into the other's hands quickly, and hurried off.

The Silver House

"Now, blast it, where is the report man? Speak up!"
The shout of the youthful, but powerful Count Chace echoed through the halls, the regal upper court decorated in shimmering banners of dark blue and silver. In the higher chambers of House Herrsan, the Silver House of the five, sunlight streamed in lazily through the high, tall windows from the cooler outside, where the chill winds were dulled against silvery stone. As opposed to the dark stone house of Countess India, some week or two's travel northeast of Count Chace's seat of power, the entire castle glittered in silver stone and dark blue banner streamers, the color of the depths of Lake Imirad.
As the doors on the far end burst open in the long, elegant hallway and the Count strode in, as usual, in the mid-afternoon time upon the sundial, the huscarl guards at attention here and there throughout snapped to attention. The high court, which was usually either empty in quiet strength or filled with buzzing, lesser nobles, was now occupied only by the few guards, the Count who strode in between his two highest huscarls, and, as always...the map table. Around which a few officers stood, on the far end.
If Chace was in a bad mood, he didn't seem so, despite the shout that rang across the hall. The various carls and officers that stood at the far end, near one of the massive windows that looked out over the river and fertile plains below.
The nearest commander, a higher ranking man who was dressed in full armor, looked up with a grin as the count strode in.
"Good afternoon, my lord!" He called out, cheerfully enough. The count waved vaguely in answer, as if preoccupied, trying to decide if he wanted to hum a tune or talk with himself. The commander spoke something in low tones with his fellow officers, and turned again to the table covered in maps and reports.
The count strode down the long, polished hall quickly and confidently, the huscarls behind him hurrying to keep up. He was a young man, slender and tall, though his rather dark face would give him away as someone perhaps older than that. His light gray eyes had a friendly, warm gaze, though perhaps slightly hidden under a crop of unruly black hair half the time. A smile was on his face, though, despite his commanding voice.
"Ah, commander Rethaan, Caidatris, where is my report?" Count Chace reached the heavy oaken table with a pleasant smile, though his usual commanding gaze brought them all to attention. One of the younger officers, across the table, fumbled for a paper and yanked it hurriedly out of his belt, passing it to the Count.
"Here you are, my lord." The younger officer bowed stiffly, his light armor clanking as he settled back again. The cool winds blew in through the window, across the vast green fields that were ruled by the Silver House, the distant sounds of river barges and the cries of ravens on the wind.
Pushing back the dark blue cape fluidly and relaxing with a foot on one chair as he took the report, the count nodded in thanks and quickly scanned through the rough writing, while the officers stood about, talking or waiting for the daily verdict.
The count frowned at some lines, smiled at others, grimly repeated a few to himself, and seemed to scan the page twice before he finished, as if making sure everything was correct.
There was a silence, before he looked up and nodded. "Good enough, gentlemen!" He announced, at length, a slight smile on his face as a few of the more responsible captains visibly relaxed.
"We're making good progress on that dam, let's keep that up! But you'll put more men on the three forts along the riverbank, Rethaan, we'll have them done by midwinter if we try." He paused for a moment, and then interrupted the one named Rethaan, the taller, larger man, before he could reply.
"And for goodness sake, put more men on the northwest edge! I won't have those Goblin raiders burning and sacking those outpost villages, understood? Put more riders up there, and keep those mountains watched!" He returned with a muttering to the report list, while one of the chief commanders quickly spoke to his neighbor across the table, as an order for better patrols to the northwest. The younger officer who had brought the report excused himself quickly and hurried off to get to it, immediately.
The Silver House, House Herrsan, was probably the second strongest in Savarica, second only to the dominant House Davardi herself man for man. It was by far the fastest, the toughest, and definitely the most disciplined and equipped army in Savarica, as Herrsan had learned to be over the decades. The five houses weren't always at peace, and when Davardi, who was by far the largest, got too power hungry or any other small coalition of lesser houses decided to rebel, it was usually the militaristic Herrsan carls that were eventually called out, one way or the other. The count, his tough group of soldiers and riders, and the people themselves had learned to be quick and tough, living between the edge of the wilds and half greedy House Davardi all their lives, and so a major part of the house's ruler time was spent doing such things as building, training, preparing, and above all, watching. A silver standard that mostly stood for justice, and especially survival, the Herrsan people were a hardy people that knew how to live by their wits and their constantly disciplined sword arms.
He made it through about the fourth patrol report from the forest edge in the west when the one that had been named Commander Huscarl Caidatris suddenly coughed, and spoke up.
"My lord?"
"Erm? Yes, Caidat?" Chace looked up briefly with a smile before burying himself again in the rough parchments.
"You recieved a message from House Davardi today, this morning."
The count abruptly looked up, smile gone. "What? Where?"
Pulling out yet another report from his belt, the commander handed it over.
"Blast, you don't tell me these things, for goodness sake..." Chace muttered briefly, grabbed the message and scanning it over hurriedly. Anything from the strongest house had to be treated carefully.
After a long pause, the count sighed visibly. "Ach, just a summons." He looked up, around at his small staff, the arms and eyes on his lands. "Another council in Ilelphosta, all the houses gathering again." He grunted, "A few weeks, I'll probably go." After a moment's quiet, he looked up again, as if a new thought came to him.
"Caidatris?"
The smaller, slender man who had earned his huscarl title looked up quickly. "Yes, my lord?"
"Is the new house skiff finished yet? I forgot myself..."
"Yes, my lord, that was finished two weeks ago."
"Oh. Good. Excellent." Chace visibly brightened. "There...it hasn't been tried yet, has it?"
"No, my lord, since you expressly ordered it for you to sail the river with."
"Excellent! I'll merely sail downriver to Ilelphosta then...been needing a good river voyage anyways." He chuckled to himself, enjoying the idea of a luxurious trip down, and returned to the busy table of protecting and keeping watch over his land.