Encampment of Aumale

[Gandalfus]

Placeholder

[The Mad Skylord]

Sir Malcolm arrives with a cask of Scotch whiskey, hoping to speak to Lord Stephan of Aumale.

[Gandalfus]

Lord Stephen was indeed in attendance, and the Scot was welcomed into the tent by a bodyguard clad in chainmail. Aumale is sat inside, seemingly bemused by something.

[The Mad Skylord]

The Scotsman set the cask down quietly, before speaking in passable French.

"How are you this evening, Lord Stephan."

[Gandalfus]

Only just noticing the Scot's arrival, Stephen grins and gestures for him to take a seat.

"Monsieur Scott, a pleasure. I am well, thankyou. What can I do for you?"

[Oznerol]

ooc: distilled drinks didn't exist in Europe until the XIII century, and in Scotland such technology only arrived in the 1400's! Thus the whisky is a terrible anachronism. Also distilled drinks were firtly used as medicament, to treat wounds and such due the nature of alcohol, it wasn't actually drank until the XV century.

[The Mad Skylord]

OOC: Ah sure, let this one lie, Oz. I fixed the kilts, I fixed the Royal Banner, but by god the whiskey will stay! You cannot take it from me! This one small a-historical snippet doesn't affect anything much, to be honest.

Malcolm smiles and pours a small jar of whiskey for him, before getting one for himself.

"I came because I wondered about your opinion on our dear friend, Neville."

[Gandalfus]

Stephen sips the whiskey, and wines slightly, but swallows it anyway.

"What about him? I haven't heard much from Seigneur Neville. Unsurprising, given that he holds sway over a mere handful of men."

[The Mad Skylord]

Malcolm nods calmly, taking a draft of the spirit.

"I am slightly worried about his obvious lust for power and what he would do to get it."

Malcolm pauses and arranges his thoughts before he begins talking again.

"I am going to suggest to Lord de Baalun that he make a fourth contingent of mixed troops. We have German, Norman and French contingents, but there are several hosts here on their own. We should band together the Scots, the Italians, the Spanish, the Poles and possibly the English, rather than assign them to the national contingents. I was wondering your opinion on this."

[Gandalfus]

"I am too. He fancies himself a warlord." Stephen said, while scratching the fuzz that grew at his chin. Taking another draught, he pondered the idea.

"Perhaps that could work, but not whilst Neville and his polack friend run off to Armenia to do Lord knows what."

[The Mad Skylord]

"I am too. He fancies himself a warlord." Stephen said, while scratching the fuzz that grew at his chin. Taking another draught, he pondered the idea.

"Perhaps that could work, but not whilst Neville and his polack friend run off to Armenia to do Lord knows what."

Malcolm nods seriously.

"The problem is he fancies himself a warlord, but lacks the sense to be one. A dangerous combination."

Malcolm frowns, scratching an itch on his leg.

"I believe they can be convinced to stay, if the right reasons were found. This brings us to the only real problem of a fourth division - who would command it?"

[Gandalfus]

Malcolm nods seriously.

"The problem is he fancies himself a warlord, but lacks the sense to be one. A dangerous combination."

Malcolm frowns, scratching an itch on his leg.

"I believe they can be convinced to stay, if the right reasons were found. This brings us to the only real problem of a fourth division - who would command it?"

"Not Neville, please." Stephen said, and chuckled slightly, before giving a shrug. "A Flemish noble, perhaps?"

[The Mad Skylord]

Malcolm laughed at the gripe but then shook his head.

"The only Flem in the army is a woman. The Italians are lead by a woman also. There is the Polack, but he seems as bad as Neville. That would leave the Don Santana or me. However, do I have the authority to command a division? I am only a knight."

[Gandalfus]

"Make your own authority, Monsieur. But you shall have to wait on de Baalun's word."

[The Mad Skylord]

Malcolm nodded quietly. It was sound advice.

"I just wanted to secure some support for it, for when I put the idea forwards."

Malcolm pauses and then pulls out a small box.

"On another note, maybe we could have some friendly competition."

He opens the box, inside the is a black and white marble board. Sitting in slots around the edge are beautifully made chess pieces, black and white, each individually carved from marble.

"My youngest son spent many hours making this. Would you care for a game?"

[Gandalfus]

Stephen nodded, scratching his chin once again.
Casting his eyes down to the chess board, he raises an eyebrow and smirks.

"Why not, eh? I have played a Moorish version of this game many times. I hope this one is similar, for my own sake."

[The Mad Skylord]

Malcolm smiled.

"No difference. A merchant taught me to play years ago, he was a Moor, if I remember correctly."

With that, Malcolm takes the first move...

OOC: You want to flip a coin? I'm heads.

[Gandalfus]

OOC: Alright, does the flip decide the game?

[The Mad Skylord]

OOC: Yup!

[Gandalfus]

OOC: Heads, you win