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Duke Mikolaj Król, Lord Commander of the armies of The Radiant Order, and the head of the last noble house in Lightforge, rode astride his horse in front of his gathered men. This was the place where he was most comfortable, and where he had the most control and freedom in his life. He always felt safer heading
toward battle, or fighting in one, then he did back home. He was the head of household of the last great noble house in Lightforge. A century ago, the city had unshackled itself from the rulership of its old king, and most of the noble families alive at the time had sided against the rebellion. They were all killed, leaving only three noble houses remaining. The houses retained their power and lands due to the loyalty their patrons at the time inspired in their troops, and it was those same troops who did much of the murdering of the other houses. The clergy needed them. The guilds needed them, and over the following decades, those families had cemented their place at the seat of the Sacred Council's table.
The position of 'Lord Commander' was now one of only two inherited titles remaining in the government, and although he had little direct decision-making power on the council, the Lord Commander could still act as a tie-breaker vote. As such, he was forced to constantly play political games back home, and the tenuous place he and his family had in the eyes of the people was only maintained so long as he could maintain the appearance of absolute neutrality. One false move, and his title could be used against him; weaponized in the eyes of a populace who had grown accustomed to theocratic-syndicalist representation. Ostensibly his station, wealth, and influence existed as a means to represent a form of 'Holy Order': one of many examples of government that humans used to organize themselves, like all the different positions on the council, but his was
particularly anachronistic. The populace had little stomach for a man who did not labor himself to earn all that he owned, so Mikolaj and his kin had to constantly prove their worth to the nation by having the appearance of being the 'perfect man'. An amazing leader, warrior, and scholar. He had to be everything, and his reputation as a 'moral man' also had to be flawless.
Or else he would be consumed in the only arena in which he was at a disadvantage: politics.
But at the head of an army? Where he was now? Surrounded by men who loved and respected him? He was
safe. Even once the blood started spilling, he would be more at peace than any other time in his life, so he couldn't
help but smile! The Order was mobilizing against the goblins, making deals with neighbors, and looking outward to expand for the first time in decades. He would be a
busy man for the next few years, and he was looking forward to having every excuse he needed to stay far, far away from the capitol!
"Captain." Mikolaj slowed his mount, a Lyshart-bred horse from his families' personal stables, which was barded in the same heavy lamellar and chain that he was. He resumed his pace again once he was riding next to the leader of the cavalry troop who marched behind him. Captain Szymansk.
"Begin dividing the formation into squads and screening our flanks, we're nearly there. You know the plan."
"It will be done, Lord Commander!" The man gave a curt nod, then galloped away to start giving more specific orders to his his lieutenants down the column.
Mikolaj kept his pace while he scanned the horizon. The whole region was lightly forested, and out here the farming hamlets were few and far between. This was the edge of goblin country, to be sure.
The little bastards were cowardly and weak, but dangerous in large enough numbers. He knew from experience that they would always prefer to run and hide, rather than face an organized cavalry charge, so he elected to use his men to 'corral' them while he and a team of his best troops would ride straight through the middle of their territory and hunt them down with the aid of a few blood-hounds. It would be as though they were out on a fox-hunt, except these foxes would be
armed!
It wouldn't be a particularly
glorious battle, but it would good practice, and exercise, and a much-welcomed distraction from his life. A
working vacation. Exactly what he needed.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:13, Wed 12 May 2021.