Post by Nicholas Miller on Mar 19, 2018 17:13:44 GMT -5
The trip into Lindblum had done much to change Sir Nicholas Miller.
He had left Vasile as an archer who had been knighted and a captain of a company of raiders. He had taken a town for himself, raided the countryside, fought a handful of skirmishes. But not once had he bent his great yew stave in anger; he had been their captain, standing with the men-at-arms he had hired on. He had served as military governor over a town and the surrounding countryside; he had negotiated, and collected, ransoms. He exacted a rich tribute from a prince, no less.
And while he had not returned with Princess Mariette, a fact he was not particularly liking despite the fact it had been at her command, for she had decided to remain behind of her own free will, he had been richly rewarded for his troubles. Oh, most of the plunder and take from the ransoms had been his to keep, and that alone would have made him an extremely wealthy man, wealthy enough to retire and live his days in comfort if he was thrifty enough. But there had been more rewards awaiting him, something he had never even dreamed of.
Land of his own. Not just a single plot, but a proper fief for him. He was a lord. A very minor one, let there be no mistake, in direct vassalage to the Deveraux. He had been born a peasant, and now he was landed gentry. And that was wealth beyond imagining, wealth that went beyond the vast hoard of coin he had made from his time in Lindblum and set aside from his time in the Clavigers.
And with that came certain obligations.
The first was that he would now have to become a 'proper' knight. He would have to set aside his bow, never to take it into the field again save to go hunting. He had to sell his interests in the fletching business as those were not the sort of thing that were socially acceptable for someone of his newfound status.
And, he needed to be properly attired.
Oh, he had plenty to wear on a day to day basis that was well-enough made, but he did need better clothes for more official settings, and some spares.
And he needed to get himself a proper knight's accoutrements as well. He traded his hand-and-a-half falchion for a proper longsword; his hunting knife was no longer a constant companion, a rondel dagger was. But he did not give up the well-used single-handed falchion he had carried as a mere archer. After all, it was still a good weapon and of fine enough make for a riding sword. And while his mail shirt was still good, his brigandine was now only good enough as a riding harness, something he would wear when he would not need a full set of armour...
Which meant he now needed a full harness...
And now that the tailor had delivered a full set of arming clothes, there was an armourer present not only to present his wares to the newly landed knight, but also properly fit him for everything. And, given this was a matter in which the peasant-born man had very little knowledge of, he had asked an old friend for help. Sir Salvatore Deliambre had been a mentor to Nick since he had been included into the Royal Bodyguard as an archer, and even more so after he had been knighted. And later on, he had helped him with finding business opportunities. And he knew about armour in ways Miller did not. And money. And because the man who'd once been close to hanging as a poacher and murderer was also not nearly familiar enough with that particular trade, he needed someone to help him be certain he was not being cheated either, which would be easy for a less than scrupulous armourer...
And it was in his arming clothes and his mail that Nick Miller stood on a low stool in his own courtyard, a vast spread of armour before him to try on and decide upon. And it had been hours finding the right harness, and fitting it to accommodate his extremely powerful chest and shoulders. And now, it was time to decide on a helm... "So, Tory, I understand that a houndskull visor is better against incoming arrows, but seriously, wearing this thing is bordering on ridiculous!"
And, as he spoke, Nick turned his head so he could see his old friend through the narrow eyeslits, the long, narrow snout of the visor pointing straight at him. "Is it really worth the added expense?"
Salvatore Deliambre
He had left Vasile as an archer who had been knighted and a captain of a company of raiders. He had taken a town for himself, raided the countryside, fought a handful of skirmishes. But not once had he bent his great yew stave in anger; he had been their captain, standing with the men-at-arms he had hired on. He had served as military governor over a town and the surrounding countryside; he had negotiated, and collected, ransoms. He exacted a rich tribute from a prince, no less.
And while he had not returned with Princess Mariette, a fact he was not particularly liking despite the fact it had been at her command, for she had decided to remain behind of her own free will, he had been richly rewarded for his troubles. Oh, most of the plunder and take from the ransoms had been his to keep, and that alone would have made him an extremely wealthy man, wealthy enough to retire and live his days in comfort if he was thrifty enough. But there had been more rewards awaiting him, something he had never even dreamed of.
Land of his own. Not just a single plot, but a proper fief for him. He was a lord. A very minor one, let there be no mistake, in direct vassalage to the Deveraux. He had been born a peasant, and now he was landed gentry. And that was wealth beyond imagining, wealth that went beyond the vast hoard of coin he had made from his time in Lindblum and set aside from his time in the Clavigers.
And with that came certain obligations.
The first was that he would now have to become a 'proper' knight. He would have to set aside his bow, never to take it into the field again save to go hunting. He had to sell his interests in the fletching business as those were not the sort of thing that were socially acceptable for someone of his newfound status.
And, he needed to be properly attired.
Oh, he had plenty to wear on a day to day basis that was well-enough made, but he did need better clothes for more official settings, and some spares.
And he needed to get himself a proper knight's accoutrements as well. He traded his hand-and-a-half falchion for a proper longsword; his hunting knife was no longer a constant companion, a rondel dagger was. But he did not give up the well-used single-handed falchion he had carried as a mere archer. After all, it was still a good weapon and of fine enough make for a riding sword. And while his mail shirt was still good, his brigandine was now only good enough as a riding harness, something he would wear when he would not need a full set of armour...
Which meant he now needed a full harness...
And now that the tailor had delivered a full set of arming clothes, there was an armourer present not only to present his wares to the newly landed knight, but also properly fit him for everything. And, given this was a matter in which the peasant-born man had very little knowledge of, he had asked an old friend for help. Sir Salvatore Deliambre had been a mentor to Nick since he had been included into the Royal Bodyguard as an archer, and even more so after he had been knighted. And later on, he had helped him with finding business opportunities. And he knew about armour in ways Miller did not. And money. And because the man who'd once been close to hanging as a poacher and murderer was also not nearly familiar enough with that particular trade, he needed someone to help him be certain he was not being cheated either, which would be easy for a less than scrupulous armourer...
And it was in his arming clothes and his mail that Nick Miller stood on a low stool in his own courtyard, a vast spread of armour before him to try on and decide upon. And it had been hours finding the right harness, and fitting it to accommodate his extremely powerful chest and shoulders. And now, it was time to decide on a helm... "So, Tory, I understand that a houndskull visor is better against incoming arrows, but seriously, wearing this thing is bordering on ridiculous!"
And, as he spoke, Nick turned his head so he could see his old friend through the narrow eyeslits, the long, narrow snout of the visor pointing straight at him. "Is it really worth the added expense?"
Salvatore Deliambre