# Sins Of The Father [WHF] [Brettonia]



## mcflurry (Feb 4, 2009)

*Sins Of The Father I*​
It was raining. The mud dripped through the barred street-level window in Couronne's jail. Amongst the foetid straw and muck, Sir Guilliaume LaVier huddled in the corner chomping hungrily on a lump of stale bread. He was a shadow of his former self, his bright green eyes glared out at the iron bars from his sunken face, his black hair slick with grease and filth. The puckered scar that ran from his right ear to his nose was covered in filth too. He looked up as the jailer unlocked his cell door. The jailer was a fat, tough man.
"LaVier! Visitor!" barked the gruff jailer and a well-dressed man ducked into the dingy cell. His surcoat was scarlet red, immaculately clean, with a lion rampant rearing up over his chest. 

"Charles, what are you doing here?" croaked LaVier. It had been a while since he had spoken. 

"Hello Guilliaume," began the stranger. His brown eyes were looking Guilliaume up and down, finally offering a tut of disapproval. "How long has it been, three years?"

"Four," replied Guilliaume, dusting himself down and flicking his greasy hair out of his face. 

"Well anyway, enough reminiscing. I have a job for you, LaVier, and you can regain your honour and fief with it. I take it you have heard?"

"Heard what? I don't hear anything down here except the drunks in the next cell," replied Guilliaume pensively. 

"Baron Thegan is dead, LaVier. He fell against the greenskins two weeks ago. His fief is in limbo. Thegan left no heir, and as such, the fief passes to the DeVeyan family."

"The DeVeyans? Aren't they the heretics?"

"No, but they were suspected heavily of being involved in the affair of the False Grail. The king doesn't trust these snakes to run land in his back garden, and this is where you come in. Have you heard of Marienburg?"

"Yes, I have heard of it,"

"In the city there is an orphanage, the Marienburg Home for Foundlings. It's run by Sister Marianne. We've heard a rumour that Thegan's b'stard son is there,"

"Well he's b'stard born, he can't take the Barony!" retorted Guilliaume, now stood up and leaning against the cold stone wall.

"We know that, but the king's prepared to bend the rules, so long as the boy will be loyal to him." 
"And you want me to recover this child?" enquired Guilliaume, trying to wipe clean his filthy white surcoat. His golden fleur-de-lys was spattered in mud and other disgusting things. 

Charles nodded, "You"ll have an accomplice, a knight errant, Guy Leveque. He owes me a favour from his childhood. Ride to Marienburg, recover the boy and bring him here. Preferably intact. The DeVeyans have power though, they will do their best to stop you."

"Okay, what's in it for me, other than avoiding the gallows?"

"A chance to win back your honour, with a royal pardon. I expect to see you at the north gate tomorrow at first light," Charles tossed Guilliaume a bag of golden coins, their shine catching the light of the candle, "There's seven hundred gold pieces there, enough to sort yourself out and pay for beds in Marienburg. Don't spend it all at once," said Charles as he rapped on the bars. The jailer appeared and unlocked the heavy iron door, letting the two knights out. 

As the sun rose over Couronne, Guilliaume trotted down the main street to the gate. He looked like an angel amid the filth of the city. His surcoat was now clean, his shield new, as was his brown destrier, and its trapper. As he trotted towards the gate, he saw another knight waiting. His black horse reared slightly, causing his red trapper to ripple in the wind. Guilliaume had not seen the badge before, a red field with a single vertical white stripe, three golden stars adorning the strip. 

The rider turned and Guilliaume studied his face. He was handsome, with blue eyes shining and brown hair clean and fresh. An air of bravado seemed to surround him, and the cocksure grin plastering his face assured Guilliaume that this boy would be difficult. 

As he rode up, the boy spoke. "Sir Guillaume! It's nice to meet you." His voice was light and cheerful, the opposite to Guilliaume's gruff bark. 

"Is it?" said Guillaume miserably. He really didn't want to be rescuing a child. A damsel, or a great lord, but not a child. He grated with children. 

Guy Leveque was blank to Guilliaume's comment, and continued to make conversation. As the city gates opened, both spurred their horses into a trot and they passed under the great arch. 

"So, what's the quest?" asked Guy enthusiastically, biting into some hard bread, his breakfast. He grimaced and spat out a chunk of millstone, gently fingering his teeth.

"It's not a quest, it's a babysitting job," answered Guilliaume, stroking the cut from his shave. The shaggy beard he had grown waiting to be hung had fought well. 

Guy turned to face ahead, and was quiet for a while. As night fell, they were a day's ride outside Marienburg, firmly inside the Empire's borders, and they made camp. Guy kindled a fire and Guilliaume made a makeshift tent from their trappers. Guilliaume commented on how they smelt, a rare occurrence, the older Knight was usually silent and contemplative. When he did speak, he seemed intolerant, but Guy believed that was just age. 

The fire crackled as Guy threw another log onto it. The flames illuminated their faces and Guy decided to ask about Sir Guilliaume's past. 

"Where are you from, Sir Guilliaume?" enquired Guy, immediately offering, "I'm from Couronne, my father was a knight too."

"It's a long story," said Guilliaume, trying to evade the question.

"It's a long night," pushed Guy, prodding the fire with his sword.

"I'm from Mousillon. It's a terrible place, and I sought to escape it through martial prowess. I was the best on the tourney circuit, and I won the joust at Carcassonne. I beat a knight, can't recall his name, but he was the favourite to win. He felt slighted by me, and he and his friends got drunk in the Carcassonne Arms. He must've had a lot though; he came across me in the tavern and started shooting his mouth off, about how I was useless with the lance, and I come from Mousillon so I must be a traitor, that kind of stuff. I ignored him, but then he challenges me to a duel. I accept, and we end up fighting in the street, with the patrons of the tavern watching us. He drops his guard and I slip in the mud. I ran him through with my sword and he died on the spot."

"It was an accident though, surely?"

"Of course, but his retainers said otherwise. I lost my fief, and was put in Couronne's cells to hang, after the King called the case to his court to be heard. He was away on business in L'Anguille so some muppet judge heard it instead, found me guilty."

"Oh," was all Guy could offer.


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## mcflurry (Feb 4, 2009)

*Sins Of The Father II*​

The sun rose, a ball of orange fire, and Guy stirred. He sat up and pulled on his leather jerkin, and climbed out of his trapper tent. Guilliaume was already awake, and was fitting his trapper onto his horse. Some bread and cheese was set out for Guy, who wolfed it down.

Guillaume came back over to the ashes of the fire, and sat on a small rock. "Today, we ride for Marienburg. We should be there by nightfall. In the morning we'll go to the orphanage and find this boy."

"Sounds like a plan," muttered Guy through a full mouth. 

Guy saddled and mounted his horse, making sure he'd gathered all his belongings. Guilliaume was already ahead and trotting slowly, as to let Guy catch up. 

They rode for the whole day, never stopping. They passed several ruined villages, victims of the Red Pox, conjectured Guilliaume. Further down, they passed a sign, a small marker with Marienburg, 50 miles on it. It was half covered by moss and Guy had just spotted it. They were low on food and water, and desperately thirsty. In the distance smoke could be seen rising from the trees. 

"What is that?" asked Guy, craning in his saddle for no reason. 

"Looks like a fire, not our problem," replied Guillaume dismissively, but Guy wouldn't let it go. They rounded a bend in the road and saw the source of the smoke. There was a village up ahead, and the thatch roofs were ablaze. People ran screaming, women clutching children and men being cut down as they tried to defend their homes. 

"We should help! Come on," said Guy, seeking the older knight's approval. 

"No, it's not our place." 

Guy muttered something, cradled his lance and galloped toward the village at full pelt. Guilliaume swore softly, offered a prayer to the Lady and spurred after his hot-headed companion.

The village was under attack from a group of bandits, about fifteen of them, all dressed in black rags. Only one had a sword, the leader, Guy assumed. The others were armed with sticks and clubs. One hefted an axe. Guy angled his horse towards the leader and raised his shield, pointing his lance at the man's torso. Guy saw the man wheel to face the horse, saw the look of disbelief in his eyes, and then the blankness as his lance hit home. 

The wooden spear splintered as it smacked into the bandit, driving the iron tip deep into his body. Guy discarded the stump and drew his sword, leaning down and slicing an assailant in half as he raised an axe to one of the women. 

Guilliaume was impressed. His young partner was scything through the men with ease, leaving a trail of blood behind him. LaVier didn't bother with his lance, and immediately drew his own blade. His horse reared up in terror as a club smacked into its leg, and kicked out in retaliation, catching its attacker in the face. Guilliaume grunted as the man fell clutching his head. He was dead. The bandits were breaking under Guy's furious wrath, fleeing the knightly avenger. 

Guy could feel a splash of rain on his face. A small drop, but it was the first of many. It began to rain heavily, and Guillaume grinned at the sky. The Lady was smiling on him. 

The thatch roofs were no longer ablaze, and the village now had some order. Women were weeping for the dead, and one of the elders approached Guy and Guilliaume. The two looked grim and forbidding, spattered with blood and soaked from the rain. 
"We thank you," began the elder. He was a short, balding man with a wispy beard that grew out from his chin. His tunic was dotted with blood and muck, "for saving our village. If there is anything we can do to thank you?"

Guy was about to speak when Guilliaume swiftly cut him off, "We require nothing more from you, sir, your gratitude is more than enough."

Marienburg was coming into view, a huge city by the sea. Guy had never been to the city and its great walls and gate awed him. The gate was stood open and a steady stream of traffic was pouring in and out. Guilliaume reached over and closed his mouth as they approached the gate. A guard was stationed at the right hand side of the gate, and he stepped out with his halberd as the two strangers trotted up to him. Bretonnians, eh? he thought as he spoke. "T'is five crowns to get you inside, sirs," he said in a very rural accent. 

Guilliaume brought out his diminished coin bag and gave the man five gold pieces. Guy was absent-mindedly playing with his helmet.

"Thank you sirs." Said the guard, "And what is your business here?"

"None of yours," replied Guilliaume curtly, tossing the guard another coin. He trotted under the arch, Guy following in his wake. 

They wove through the streets for an hour, looking for the orphanage. Night began to fall and Guilliaume turned into the nearest tavern with a stable he could see. Stabling their horses, Guy and Guilliaume pushed open the tavern door and stepped into the warmth. The tavern was lit by the warm glow of lanterns, and the sound of merriment bounced off the walls.

Guy cast his eyes around and took in the room. The tavern wasn't quiet today, he mused, while Guilliaume organized the rooms. He was broken from his daydream-like state by a man pushing him through the doorframe into the pub. Guy staggered, reeling around to face the man. He was tall, and muscular. A series of scars crisscrossed his face. In Guy's opinion, the man was terrifying. 

"Watch it," said Guy instinctively. Damn, he thought. Should have held his tongue, because now the burly man turned and growled at Guy.

"I don't know where you're from, whelp, but I'll send you to your grave if you don't watch your mouth," retorted the man, in his deep voice. Guy was scared, but he dared not show it.

Guilliaume grabbed Guy from behind and dragged him up the stairs, into the room he had paid for. "You stupid boy," he muttered, taking off his surcoat. Guy did the same and then helped Guilliaume with his heavy mail, lifting it over his head and dropping it to the floor with a gasp


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