Eldridge's Letter

Argon's laughter with Boyd was interrupted by the creaking sound of the ladder, alerting them of someone's ascent. He turned to see the faces of Jory and Eldrin emerging from the opening below, their expressions serious despite the mismatched pieces of armour they wore.

Jory and Eldrin emerged from the ladder, looking awkward in their mismatched armour. "I know a bit of armour is better than none, but this is truly laughable," Argon commented, shaking his head. "We can't let our forces be a joke, dismissed as the poor man's army."

Boyd nodded in agreement. "Aye, my lord. The strongest of our soldiers claimed the complete sets of armour, leaving the rest to make do with what was left," he explained, gesturing towards the patchwork armour sported by Jory and Eldrin. "But, the blacksmith's been hard at work, making sure everyone's properly outfitted."

"That's good to hear," Argon said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. "We have to play our part right. And the first step is looking the part. We can't command respect if we don't appear respectable." He glanced at Jory and Eldrin, the moonlight catching on the mismatched pieces of their armour, and grinned. "I look forward to seeing you in proper armor, lads. It's high time we looked like the force we are."

As Argon finished speaking, Jory, the older man, stepped forward. His mismatched armour clinked with each step, the noise cutting through the quiet night air. "My lord," he began, his voice carrying a note of formality. "We've been assigned to guard your chambers every night from now on. After the... incident, we made sure to clean your room and remove the bodies." He glanced at Eldrin, who nodded in agreement. "It took us a while to find you."

Argon acknowledged this with a nod, his eyes scanning the two men before him. "Well done, old man," he praised, causing Jory's face to light up with pride. His gaze then shifted to Eldrin, his features hardening. "And you, don't take this as some significant promotion. I did this as a favour to your mother, boy. In an actual battle, you'd both be massacred." His words were harsh but honest, intended to remind them of the reality of their situation. Despite the honour of their new assignment, they were still woefully underprepared for an actual fight.

Eldrin took his words in stride, merely nodding in understanding. There was no room for pride or ego in their line of work - only the brutal, often unforgiving reality of their situation. His gaze held a newfound determination as he accepted Argon's words. "We'll do our best to prove you wrong, my lord."

Argon directed his attention to Jory and Eldrin, a cruel gleam in his eye. "For Jory, you're a lost cause, you old bastard. Can't teach an old dog new tricks," he drawled, an impish grin tugging at his lips.

His gaze then landed on Eldrin, his tone brimming with mockery. "As for you, Eldrin," he started, his words sharp as daggers, "perhaps the sounds of your mother calling for my cock will finally light a fire in your belly and make a warrior out of you."

Argon let his words linger in the cool night air, a sinister smirk etched on his face. He turned to Jory once more, his laughter rumbling from deep within his chest. "Or maybe it will at least give our old friend here his final hard-on before he meets his maker."

The sudden eruption of Boyd's laughter cut through the tension, the sound echoing off the stone walls. Argon joined in, the harsh sound of his laughter merging with Boyd's, the crude jest providing a moment of levity amidst the gloom. Even Jory let out a chuckle.

Continuing his taunting, Argon spotted Eldrin's eyes flashing with anger. "Oh, are you trying to give me a defiant look, lad?" he teased, a wicked grin on his face. "I thought I'd beat that out of you."

Eldrin quickly dropped his gaze, his cheeks turning a shade darker. Argon let out a bellow of laughter, thoroughly enjoying the embarrassment he had instilled in the young man.

"That's better," he continued, his tone dripping with mockery. "Don't fret, boy. Perhaps one day, I'll even teach you a few tricks. If you manage to survive long enough, you might just prove useful like old Boyd here. But until then, keep that damn temper of yours in check!" His laughter echoed around them, starkly contrasting with the tense atmosphere that had moments before engulfed them.

Taking the final swig of his drink, Argon looked over at Jory, the elderly man's question hanging in the air. "Would you like to sleep now, my lord?"

Argon exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the day's events settling on him. "Hm, sure, I guess it is past my bedtime," he said, a note of tired amusement in his voice. He set down his empty mug and stood up from his chair, Jory and Eldrin rising with him.

"Goodnight, Boyd," he said, nodding to the man.

Boyd returned the gesture. "Goodnight, my lord."

With that, Argon descended the ladder, Jory and Eldrin in tow. They retraced their steps back to the manor, the occasional flicker of a torch illuminating their path through the otherwise dark and quiet streets.

Once back in the manor, the trio navigated through the empty hallways, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Everyone else had retired for the night, leaving the halls eerily quiet.

Upon reaching his room, Argon turned to his new guards. "You two keep watch. I don't want any more surprises tonight."

With that, he disappeared into his chambers, leaving Jory and Eldrin standing guard outside his door. As they settled in for the night, the guards could hear the faint sounds of Argon preparing for bed before the room went silent, signalling his retreat into a much-needed sleep.

As sunlight filtered through the cracks of his chamber door, Argon stirred from his slumber. He had slept long into the day, the fatigue of the previous night's ordeal having claimed him deeply. With a deep, refreshing breath, he pushed off his covers and rose to his feet, feeling a sense of tranquillity replacing his prior anxiety.

Argon dressed himself in his usual toga, pulling on his sturdy boots before exiting his room. The sight of him stepping out of his chambers startled Jory and Eldrin, stationed outside his door. They straightened immediately, their weary eyes blinking in surprise.

"You may leave to get rest of your own now," Argon said, dismissing them with a nod. His words were met with grateful looks from the pair, who thanked him before stumbling away to find their beds.

Navigating the staircase, Argon descended to the manor's ground floor, where he found Brolan hunched over the table, an object of interest in front of him. Brolan's face brightened at his lord's arrival.

"Ah, Master, you're awake," he said, gesturing towards the object on the table—a metal hook attached to a long, weathered rope. It was the tool climbers or burglars used, a chilling reminder of the previous night's events.

Brolan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze meeting Argons. "The men picked this up yesterday," he reported, his rough hand gesturing towards the East wall, the direction from where the rope and hook were retrieved.

"The East wall, you say?" Argon mused aloud, his mind racing to make sense of the information. The East wall was the farthest from the manor and overlooked a forested area, providing enough cover for anyone trying to sneak in or out undetected. It seemed the assassins had been smarter than he initially gave them credit for.

"I guess we know how our uninvited guests managed to worm their way in," Argon commented, his fingers running over the cold metal of the grappling hook. His mind processed the implications— a breach from the walls, not from underneath. "I knew they couldn't have tunneled. The palisades are dug too deep."

The discovery of the grappling hook added another piece to the puzzle, but it still left many unanswered questions. Argon hoped that the days to come would bring some much-needed clarity.

Brolan shifted in his chair, his fingers reaching into his worn leather purse. "There's something else, master," he started, his voice imbued with a hint of caution. He drew out a folded parchment tied with a red ribbon and sealed with the embossed emblem of Baron Eldrige. "A message arrived for you this morning; it came from Baron Eldrige's estate."

A look of curiosity flashed across Argon's face as he reached out, taking the letter from Brolan. He weighed it in his hand, the unexpected correspondence adding another layer of intrigue to the unfolding situation.

Brolan glanced concernedly, "I didn't read it, of course, but I thought it best to tell you immediately."

Argon untied the ribbon, breaking the seal to unfold the parchment. He scanned the first few lines of the letter, his face a picture of concentration. "Interesting timing, indeed," he muttered, mostly to himself.

Brolan cleared his throat, "Do you think there's a connection, master?"

Argon paused, eyes still fixed on the letter. "That remains to be seen. In any case, we will not let our guard down." His tone was firm, resolute. The night's events had stirred a nest of questions, and he intended to find the answers.

Argon's eyes darted over the meticulously written words on the parchment. Penned by Baron Eldrige himself, the language was formal, and the message straightforward. "Ser Argon," he read, "As you are aware, Baron Waleran's ire has been quelled."

Argon read the lines carefully. The words written in Baron Eldrige's stern hand mirrored the strict tone of the Baron himself. "Your recent actions against Silverthorne were taken without my approval and they did not go unnoticed."

There was an obvious undercurrent of annoyance in Eldrige's words. Argon could almost hear the Baron's voice, stern and unyielding in his mind. But the letter continued, and the tone subtly shifted. "Nevertheless," it read, "Your elimination of Ser Bornmowe, Baron Waleran's strongest knight, cannot be overlooked."

The next part of the letter was unexpected. "In recognition of your decisive action, I have decided to reward you," Baron Eldrige had penned.

The following segment of the letter grabbed Argon's full attention. "Taking into account your service and recent successes, I see it fit to offer you a greater role within my dominion," the letter revealed. "My daughter, Lady Isolde, despite her numerous attributes, remains unmarried. As my most promising vassal, it is your duty to ensure the continuation of my line. Thus, I offer you her hand in marriage."

Argon read the final sentence again, letting the words sink in. His status would rise, but so would his responsibilities and the demands on his loyalty.

Eldrige's letter continued, his stern tone evident in the carefully inked words. "You are to make haste to Horntide. Given the immediate threats our territory faces, the wedding ceremony will be conducted in a hastened manner, without any unnecessary grandeur."

His final words carried a weighty warning, "My daughter, remember, hails from a higher status than you. While the union will bind you both, never forget the respect that is her due. Any disrespect towards her will be considered a personal affront to my honor and person." The message was unmistakably clear; the Baron laid down the ground rules before Argon married into the family.