Keeping the Peace...

[Mors Vigilia]

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

In the heavy mist of the dawn, Baron Carlisle, his new squire and a column of fighting men rode north to relieve the wardens there.

[René Artois]

Roger rode(?) just behind his lord, glad to be getting away from the confusing matter that the succession was proving to have become. He had been given a nice leather jerkin, over which was a tunic bearing Lacquartier's arms, showing all to whom he owed his loyalty. Roger felt fairly proud of himself, he had quickly made ready his lord's horse that morning, and he had been up all night cleaning and sharpening the man's strong armour and fearsome looking blades. He was also comforted by the fact his sister was safe in Lacquartier's citadel, and it was nice that she seemed to be settling in well, even enjoying her work, she had said.

Roger breathed in the crisp and cold air, feeling it fill his lungs fully, which made him shiver slightly. At least it helped keep him awake and alert though, he thought to himself.

[Mors Vigilia]

ooc: He's the girly looking one on the white mare
ic:

The journey north was always an unassuming one. They passed the smallest of villages and tiny chapels before reaching the first warden camp on the Scottish border where Cumberland met Northumberland. The camp was already in a state of transfer as men prepared to be relieved of their posts. The Northumbrian wardens - those few that had not been called south by King Richard - had arrived earlier in the day and were already taking to their posts.

Looking north into Scotland, Roger could make out a few wooden watchtowers. Carlisle had little care for borders and had thought it made sense to build such structures into Scotland to give further warning if and when it was required. Occasionally an assault would come against one of the watchtowers but it had not been anything major yet, merely quick skirmishes and nothing close to the war that it could have been.

[René Artois]

Roger followed the Baron patiently.

[Mors Vigilia]

Carlisle dismounted before one of the larger tents in the camp and passed his reigns up to Roger.

You know what to do with this?

The squire could already see a makeshift stables in the mist, dark shadows stirring inside, whickering to each other.

Walk around and familiarise yourself with the camp. The men'll have a fire going soon, get us something small to eat for now.

Without another word, the Baron turned and ducked into the tent.

[René Artois]

Roger nodded, taking the reigns,
Yes sire. I'll walk him, give him his feed and water, then have the farrier redo that manky shoe.
He pointed to one of the horse's iron shoes which was starting to come off.

He did just that, and after letting the stablemen do their work, he disappeared and was back shortly after with a dead rabbit, skinned and gutted, in one hand, the other wiping a bloody knife on his leg. Using a small iron pot, he quickly boiled up the bones and off-cuts, before removing them, and putting in the edible meat, kidneys and liver, along with some vegetables he found in the stores. It didn't take long, and soon he was entering Lacquartier's tent with the tasty stew.

[Mors Vigilia]

If anything, inside the tent was colder than the chill outside. Carlisle was sat on a small stall, his impressive frame hunched in on itself. As Roger entered, the Baron's hand drifted to his sword before dropping. Straightening, Carlisle grunted and held a hand out for the stew, his eyes going towards the fresh blood on Roger's leg, that surprised the Baron, if his suspicion was correct then the young man had procured this food himself. Impressive...

Earlier, when Roger had been keeping himself busy, one of the knights he had befriended caught his attention. Some men would soon be getting together for a sparring session and Roger was more than welcome to tag along if he could get some time to himself.

[René Artois]

Once Lacquartier was finished eating, Roger left the tent, bowing as he exited and went to clean and sharpen his knife, which he did sitting down watching the men-at-arms fight each other.

[Mors Vigilia]

The sparring was slow paced, each man trading blow for blow, focussing more on precise strikes than strength.

Your first time in a camp of soldiers?

The same knight that had informed Roger of the sparring now sat beside him.

[René Artois]

Roger nodded,
In a camp, yes.

[Mors Vigilia]

Well, you certainly found your way around rather speedily.

This knight had his own squire who now came with the man's freshly polished armour and sharpened weapons and was then sent away with a list of further chores to be done that day. Roger had to notice how rarely he was put to work compared the the other squires.

Finding himself alone, Carlisle now quietly left his tent and made his way to the stables.

[René Artois]

It's a simple place to get to know.
Roger shrugged,
Plus I have enough time to find my way around.

[Mors Vigilia]

The knight caught the tone.

Don't worry, we've got first patrol tomorrow, the Baron'll have you by his side as we go north.

A passing man at arms shook his head.

Or not. He's just gone south with enough hard tack to last a fortnight.

Ah... Oh well.

[René Artois]

Oh well, at least it's not like things are ever quiet for long at the border, or so I hear.

[Mors Vigilia]

The knight smirked.

When it's quiet, that's when they're planning something.

[René Artois]

Yep that's what I heard.
He shivered slightly, remembering tales of ravaging, godless heathens from north of the border.

[Mors Vigilia]

The smirk widened when the knight noticed the shiver.

Believe it. They come in the night and'll slit a man's throat before he knows it. We hear tales of a place just like this where a small group of people just like the Scots managed to sneak into a heavily armed war-camp and kill its King, his only son and heir, and its most powerful Duke. It tore the land apart... Just a handful of men caused that, just like those who wait north of our position here...

[René Artois]

The highest men in camp? That's a shame, I suppose with the baron gone you'll be their first target then sir?

[Mors Vigilia]

The knight seemed shocked before his face quickly broke into a grin.

You're a quick one, Roger... Let's hope you're just as quick with a weapon.

[René Artois]

I'm alright with this
He pulled out the knife he had had tucked into his belt since he first left home all those years ago, balancing it by the end of the blade on the tip of his index finger.