[WFRP] The Bloody Crown XIII

[LCP]

Ludo

“Sieghard is steward of the Thornwood,” said Sforza. “When they’re done here, that’s where I’d expect them to return.”

Turning away to direct the soldiers carrying his luggage, he got briefly sidetracked into a brisk conversation in Tilean. Seeing Ludo still standing there, he turned back towards him.

“The campaign is over, signor Stubbs,” he said. “And winter is almost with us. All the men deserve some rest, and, Myrmidia willing, they will get it.” Two soldiers laid down a heavy chest beside him, and he passed them the spearhead to lock inside it. “We’re heading home.”

---

Horseback Adventures

Tattie looked up at Countess with obvious appreciation. Countess seemed very at ease in her presence as well - lowering her head, she allowed the girl to stroke her long snout.

Elsa’s stallion was another matter. Snorting and stamping when Jarla rode near, the big black horse looked like sixteen hands of trouble. Countess shied away from him at first, but when Tatiana heaved herself up into the saddle, he seemed to calm down. It was a peculiar sight, seeing this slip of a girl mounted on such a powerful steed - but still, she seemed to take to it naturally enough. Weaving through the lines of soldiers that were busily disassembling the camp, the two of them rode out into the hills.

The thick clouds that had lingered over the valley since before Jarla’s arrival were beginning to break up, and ragged patches of sunlight could be seen racing over the stony hillside, moving as fast as Countess could gallop. Following the line of the ridge until they had left the camp well behind, they gave their horses free rein, and soon found themselves dipping down into one of the gulleys that ran down towards the north. Ordinarily it would have been a dry ravine, but with the recent rains, a fast-running stream gushed and gurgled along its bottom. The water was dark with the grit and dust washed down from the rocky heights.

Bastard drank greedily from the stream, though Countess turned her nose up at the muddy water. Following its course north, the two horses took up a leisurely pace, only breaking into a brief canter whenever Countess felt the need to put more distance between herself and Bastard. Between the work of keeping her unruly mount in check, and perhaps a degree of intimidation at riding with this well-dressed stranger, Tatiana didn’t talk much. She kept her eyes on her surroundings, alert and watchful.

It was getting on past noon, and Jarla was beginning to wish she’d brought some lunch, when they sighted what they’d been looking for. Three riderless, still saddled and trailing their reins, were munching on a hardy thornbush that had taken root in the gully ahead. They were so covered in dust that it was difficult to tell the true colours of their coats, but Jarla felt pretty sure that the nearest of the three was Sforza’s white horse.

“We shouldn’t startle them,” said Tatiana. “I’ll go on foot. Will you hold this one?”

Turning his head, Bastard gave Jarla a baleful look.

---

Back at the Camp

By noon, the bulk of the army was on the move. The Falcons took the head of the column, leading the way for the Iron Company and the Dwimmulsons. Most of the camp followers were going with them too, including Rudi and his cooking. Only the Brotherhood and the Maneaters remained behind, along with the Thorns and a rough gaggle of civilian labourers.

A couple of hours after the Prince’s vanguard had disappeared from view, Valdes poked his head into the tent where Sieghard was recuperating. “The ogres have got the last of Alvarr’s catapult packed away,” he said. “We’ll be leaving soon - we need to strike this tent if Sister Ioana is going to come with us.” He examined Sieghard with a careful eye. “Are you going to be alright, holding down the command here? You still look like death.”