The Battle for Sandringham Hill
- Enekos
- Aug 15, 2023
- 14 min read
Any map of the known world shows the Blue Sea stretching east to the lands of the mages, and south to the edge. And so, whenever we speak of ‘beyond the Blue Sea’, we mean the lands to the south that are not on our maps. It was from these lands that a group of travellers arrived.
Some called them nomads. Some called them fighters. Mearaithe called them both. They are masters of the sword, poetic in movement, brave in conception, deeply flawed in social mannerisms…
Although if you ask anyone really tough questions with a threat of the Bechema beetle,
whose poison was said to be like pinpricks of intense fire searing in the nether regions,
well, those deeply flawed mannerisms could be attributed to one or two names…
They were loosely known as Simmo and FFS.
Of course, FFS wasn’t a native of the lands from across the Blue Sea, but in his quest to find Njal Ulf he encountered the nomadic fighters in the oddly name Apple Grave Tavern, west of Shema on the road to Uog. This was partly why his search for Njal Ulf had become derailed – but we’re getting ahead of ourselves.
Simmo was compassionately known as the lord of night, given the frequencies of his nocturnal walkabouts, that occasionally happened while he slept. Conversely, he called Vizsla the lady of day which she thought was both cute and stupid considering that most people roamed the world during the day.
While the world had men and animals, shapeshifters, the occasional undead, and mages, the world only appeared to have one Simmo and no one could quite define what he was. Two things most agreed upon was he liked to drink, and he liked to fight. A lesser-known trait was his generosity – although some could consider his gifts as bribes, especially when notes of his heroic deeds were involved. He would learn that bribes did not work.
Vizsla and Simmo were the leaders of the band of nomadic warriors who included the curiously named Angry Dropbear and Tiara Ting - the silent warrior of the south. FFS had travelled with them too. And even Lord Hok found a reason to leave his islet in Veraku. In truth the reason had been Simmo getting him completely drunk, until his eyes fell shut, whereupon he was half carried the short distance to the Veraku Carriage company (Est 1472) and bundled into the carriage marked Ghenu, with a ticket that would take him as far as Verasoom.
Vizsla and Simmo decided on a whim where to travel next. Sometimes they opted to stay in one place, replenishing their supplies or hiring themselves out as mercenaries. Sometimes the travelled to lesser-known parts of the continent to lay low or until the rains had washed their faces from wanted posters.
Along their journey they happened across the Lord Mearaithe who suggested with a bag of gold, they visit Weifu and help liberate a man known as Tom. He was seeking redemption.
Tom was from a tiny, non-descript village on the road between Rain Soak and Venabar. It was one of those type of places where the cult of Lazarus found their followers. Each was eager for adventure, and this was easily found. They too were nomadic, but appeared to lack any grace. Songs were not sung of their deeds. Nor were bedtime stories told to small children. I can only assume that they left people behind, not matter what befell them. I assume this only because one day, Tom crossed paths* with Mearaithe in Sandringham Hill.
* ‘Crossed paths’ is a loose term for it as Tom was – at that moment –
in a Weifu prison wagon, heading to the gallows for the
simple act of stealing a wheel of cheese…
Weifu – Replenish Supplies, Leave by Morning
Their business in Elsewhere concluded, the Behemoth crossed the bay to Weifu and Divol-of-Arima, the infamous mass-murderer of Sandringham Hill, was advised to stay on the Behemoth and stay out of sight. The city and surrounding villages were home to 64,371 souls, but would have been slightly more if not for the forementioned cheesemaker. For good measure, Mr Leaf suggested Gaius also remain on board as a precaution in case anyone remembered the story of the Yamara fruit.
Weifu is the regional capital that spans a tract of land from the Blue Sea and reaches to the shores of the i-Milos river where Lady Penelope spent much of her youth.
Weifu’s ancient stone walls 20 men high and perhaps 2-3 men thick surrounded most of the city, save for a stretch of coastline. On those wall men with bows stood waiting for something to happen. Oil fires flickered at their back, which Balder Grimm always felt to be a poor design choice, given how easy an enemy could spot them. The city itself had the usual mix of stone-based, wooden framed homes and shoppes and while not on the scale of Veraku, it certainly had a lived-in feel.
A few dozen moons ago, Jean Flint would have avoided the gaze of the city watch, but now he travelled on the assumption that any gazes in his direction would be rewarded with the seal of the Ordo Divitiarum which carried a gravitas almost everywhere in the known world.
Weifu was somewhere to blend in, acquire supplies including arranging for a half-dozen horses and three carts to take the road to Chemont where they would meet the Behemoth. In the Weifu City Arms, a surprisingly clean tavern, Jean Flint met Mearaithe, and they shared tales of their respective adventures.
Safely back in Veraku, Lady Euph ventured into the square, smiled to see the temple of the Blind Monk still in disarray, but saddened to see so many shoppes boarded up following the second great fire. She headed for the Cider House tavern which didn’t have its usual air of merriment. She found Bubbli seated alone with a fresh flagon of wine, which was served by the tavern-keeper with a wooden mug. “Two mugs,” chimed in Euph, which lifted Bubbli’s mood. They drank into the evening as Bubbli listened intently to the tales of the Pashtarak and Isle of Mhy.
“We need a Fidlyra,” Euph said, at last.
Bubbli stared her eyes searching between a request for more information and a new mug of wine.
“The mages requested a Fidlyra. And someone who knows how to make it… sing?” Bubbli smiled. She could certainly do that.
“Any coin?”
“None was mentioned. You can say no, but then the captain suggested I get you very drunk and take you anyway.”
Bubbli smiled again. Drunk sounded a good compromise.
“Oh, and I met this fella in a spot of bother over a stolen wheel of cheese,” Mearaithe had almost concluded his recounting of an extended time away from the Behemoth. “The Weifu bastards were bringing him here to hang.”
“Don’t tell me you adopted him,” Jean Flint smiled, shaking his head slowly.
“Kind of. I met the leaders of the travelling circus. You’ve heard of them?” Flint nodded. “Well, I offered them some coin to free him. Suggested they meet me in Weifu as I knew someone from the Ordo who would spirit them away. It seemed like the honest thing to do.”
As prison cells went, this one was awful. The ones in Veraku were dry and you could curl up in the hay, so long as the smell of rat-droppings didn’t bother you, but here: everything was just slimy. Tom hated every moment of it. Of course, he was supposed to, but that was beside the point.
The long crate shifted again. This time the nails began to move. Why on earth did they nail the crate? She was beginning to get more than a little frustrated. She was beginning to get hungry too.
Divol was beginning to get bored, and Gaius joined him for company. Both had chequered pasts with the Weifu region, but both had also begun to wonder about their respective cheeses: Sandringham Hill for Divol and the Menavariyam striped goat variety for Gaius. They hatched a plan. Robes, hoods and sneak off the boat, head for a cheesemaker, break into the stores, find their respective cheeses, take one or two wheels each and return to the ship before anyone spotted them.
The plan was going well until they reached the Weifu city cheesemaker RJ Samuels & Sons situated at the corner of Rhenwoe Street, just across from the prison garrison with a standing night guard of eight and a sleeping guard of maybe 40. Divol and Gaius took to the shadows and looked for a way in. The front of the shoppe faced the prison and the roof was overlooked by the city walls and their patrol. The sewers seemed an obvious choice but neither liked the idea of carrying cheese back through them.
At this moment of indecisiveness two women, obviously drunk with their catcalls headed for the prison guards at the main gate. This seemed like the perfect time to sneak to the front of the shoppe, quietly break a small window in the door, fiddle with the lock and carefully enter. The plan worked right to the moment the door of the Weifu city cheesemaker RJ Samuels & Sons connected with the little bell strung above the door to signal the arrival of customers. Dogs began to bark.
“Look, why do I have to wear a dress?” The beard was a giveaway, so he wore a veil and Vizsla shushed him one more time. “Don’t shush me. Tiara could have done this.” He thought about adding Dropbear to the statement but realised they’d all be dead if anyone had even suggested such a thing.
“Look Simmo, you know you don’t do well with heights, so T and Dropbear are going over the wall. Now man-up, pucker-up, get flirting with these guards, and let the perfume do its stuff.”
He swore, giggled in the direction of the city watch and then thought he heard a bell. And dogs barking.
Bia was waiting for Jean Flint and Mearaithe as they approached the Behemoth. She greeted the latter and noted his cabin had been prepared, then turned to the captain. “Divol and Gaius have gone,”
Divol had been considerate in his escape from the Behemoth and had left a scrawled note: ‘Gone to get cheese. Gaius helping me. Be back soon. Sorry.’
“Mr Grimm,” Jean Flint had expected a night spent amongst friends, a decent sleep on the ship and then an early morning voyage up the i-Milos River to Chemont. Mr Grimm turned to the captain. “Sir?”
“If you were a cheese maker, where would you set up shoppe?”
“RJ Samuels & Sons, two streets over from the Weifu City Arms, next to the prison,” he handed Jean Flint a street map. The captain took it and looked at Mr Grimm. “How?”
“Jag är en stadsplanerare,” he responded, which Jean Flint took to mean that at some point in the three hours since they had arrived in Weifu, Balder Grimm had found the city planner, shared a mug of plum tea with him, suggested changes to the city layout, taken city plans and memorised them. He nodded and turned to Bia. “Please bring them back. If they have cheese, so much the better.” At this, Mearaithe stepped forward. “I’d like some fun too. And my friends are headed for the prison, so maybe we can all help each other?”
Romos J Samuels of RJ Samuels & Sons climbed the ladder from his cheese store in the basement, lowered the hatch and rolled two barrels over it. He stroked his dogs, blew out the lantern flame, locked the shoppe and headed to the Weifu City Arms for one mug of Fairweather’s Ale, before heading back to his home above the shoppe.
From a street away, he heard Sosa and Ruba barking.
Prison guards of the Weifu city watch are always happy to see a couple of flirtatious women but experience had shown this was often a ruse to some form of robbery. They smiled cordially, noticing a fruity scent in the air. But the attention of one guard shifted to the sounds of the barking dogs. “Sounds like the Samuel’s property,” he said, before adding, “Scuse me, ladies,” before crossing the narrow street – looking back to the other guard and shouting back, “Door’s open.”
On the far-side of the prison, Tiara Ting and Angry Dropbear had momentarily paused in their climb. Tiara held the rope with one hand while giving silent hand gestures to show: ‘I see’ ‘2’ ‘you right’ ‘slice throat.’
“I’m going to my daughter’s wedding tomorrow,” said one of the guards with a smile in his voice. The oil fire flickered on the parapet as the air condensed when he spoke. “Not seen her for a whole…. Ecrk weh frek ah.” The knife was quick and bloody. The other guard’s eyes ran wide, and he moved to shout ‘intruder’ but only blood pooled in his mouth and lungs.
Tiara and Dropbear silently descended the stone steps, reaching the guard post with the prisoner manifest. The guard was dispatched quickly and while Tiara read through the list of prisoners, Angry Dropbear unlocked the main door of the prison – poked his head through and looked for Vizsla, waved, noted her reaction, smiled at Simmo, and then shook his head.
Inside the door of RJ Samuels & Sons, Sosa and Ruba heard the tinkle of the bell. Was their master home already? They barked and wagged their tails until coming face to face with two strangers. Their barks turned to growls and both strangers ran to the rear of the shoppe one knocking over a small barrel of something as the dogs followed.
A scented black liquid oozed out of the barrel that now bounced across the shoppe floor and came to rest near the door. The little bell reserved for customers dingled again: this time for the curious city watchman, unaware that Romos J Samuels was about to round Rhenwoe Street just in time to hear the sound of a thud as Sosa had turned on her heels, run the length of the shoppe baring her fangs and ploughed into the startled watchman. His short sword leapt from his hand and sailed peacefully into the oncoming window which shattered on impact.
Sosa growled as she grabbed the man’s arm. Instinctively he dropped the lantern, which cracked, and the flame eager to make friends with the liquid that oozed from the barrel. They traded a brief caress before things got explosively hot.
Across the street, the remaining guard was getting a little too attached to Simmo’s perfume. “Yes, yes soak it up,” Simmo said, his attention captured by the unwinding events of at the cheese makers shoppe. The explosion was a surprise as glass, wood and charred cheese rained down on he, Vizsla and the now comatose guard.
The boom was louder than expected and reached the Tom’s prison cell, waking him from an imperfect sleep.
The fireball could be seen from the Behemoth at which Jean Flint yelled at everyone to make ready for immediate departure. He shook his head and muttered ‘cheese’ to himself.
Bia and Mearaithe heard the explosion before they rounded the corner of Rhenwoe Street and saw only the aftermath. A man kneeled and sobbed near the fire, but was momentarily pleased by the arrival of first then second yapping dog. Two women dusted themselves off near the prison, catching Mearaithe’s eye as he chivalrously rushed to help the closest who gruffly welcomed the assistance. “Thank you, very much kind sir,” her veil had slipped revealing her beard. Simmo winked.
Explosions and fireballs tend to draw the attention of the Weifu city watch, the denizens, and curious onlookers – not to mention the sleeping guard of the prison, who now began to muster. In the chaos, Simmo and Vizsla slipped inside the prison. Mearaithe followed with questions for Simmo who did his best to answer. They descended seven quick steps, ran 30 paces along a corridor and reached a cell door. Mearaithe peered through the iron grill and whispered the name “Tom.”
Before the explosion, Divol and Gaius had found the back door, shoulder-barged it open and, as the frame split, they tumbled into the alley, closely followed by Ruba whose snarl became a whimper when the fire-fuelled explosion hit them. Wood, dust, and dislodged stone blew out from the back of the shoppe and both men covered their heads. With a fire raging behind them, Divol pulled at Gaius who lifted a small hessian pouch from the rubble, and they began to follow the dog through a twist of dark alleys.
“Captain, a word,” Balder Grimm walked with a brisk-moving Jean Flint. When the latter stopped moving for one moment, he put the city plan in front of Jean Flint. His finger pointed not to the shoppe of RJ Samuels & Sons but to its neighbour: Endelo & Sons – purveyors of the cheese wax. Jean Flint closed his eyes briefly. “I suppose there’s a rum distillery too?” Balder Grimm moved his finger to the next shoppe.
“Mr Horatio!” Jean Flint yelled. “You are to stay in your cabin and lock the damn door!”
The wax in Endelo & Sons began to bubble.
“So, what’s the plan?” Tom was both delighted and curious, considering the apparent mustering of the prison garrison. The explosions hadn’t been part of the plan and alternate plans in case of an explosion hadn’t been suggested. Simmo reached for the cell keys and began opening them, ignoring the curious advances by prisoners who hadn’t seen a woman in oh so long. “Take these,” he said to a brutish looking man, “And open every cell. The main gate is open. Off you go!”
Mearaithe was the next to speak. “OK there’s going to be bloodbath out there now,” as another explosion rattled the night air. Dropbear groaned. They were hardly equipped to take on an entire garrison and the city watch. “We go up and we take things from there.”
“No!” Simmo yelped. “You know I don’t do high places.”
“But it’s not high Simmo,” said Tiara reassuringly, despite the small lie. “It’s maybe 4 or 5 men high. Maybe 8 at most.”
“How tall are these men?”
“You’ll be fine Simmo.” It was Vizsla’s turn.
The dog turned and headed into the stable of the Whilberson Brewers, out the other side and headed back towards the prison gate. Divol and Gaius stopped to catch their breath and decided not to follow. If anyone saw them and recognized them, even if the chances were extremely slim, their night would get decidedly worse. With the prison wall directly in front, they headed down, deeper into the city. The fire seemed to follow them.
On the parapet, six figures raced towards the northern corner where Tiara and Dropbear’s ropes hung over the side of the prison wall. In the street below, two figures ran towards the same corner, as a fireball erupted where Endelo & Sons had once stood. Casks of rum in the Whilberson Brewers began to get very warm.
Bia turned to Mearaithe to see him disappear into the prison with two women in billowing dresses. More people and the city watch were beginning to enter the cluster of streets around the prison. If the cheesemaker’s shoppe was ablaze, then Divol and Gaius must be nearby. Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the prison guard followed soon after by a desperate and surprised looking bunch of prisoners. Some were cut down immediately, others escaped, and a few began to fight back. Another explosion – this time next door to cheesemaker. “Follow the fire, find the sails,” she said to herself.
The street between the prison and the fire was narrow, so she had to move carefully but swiftly through the acrid black and grey smoke. She glanced up momentarily to seeing the burning sign of the Whilberson Brewers, complete with a painting of a cask of rum. Caution was thrown to the wind, as was she when the Whilberson Brewers ceased to exist, alongside a large chunk of the prison wall. The fireball reached deep into Weifu, with casks of rum being hurled hundreds of paces away. In some cases, they were alight as they smashed to the ground.
On the Behemoth, Jean Flint asked Mr Leaf to check if Horatio was truly in his cabin. He also called for the ship to set sail along the coast and anchor near the prison. Follow the fire, find the Sails.
On the parapet, the debate wasn’t going Simmo’s way. Dropbear and Tiara were already heading down their respective ropes, while Mearaithe and Tom were preparing to follow them. Vizsla turned to Simmo. “Are you going to embarrass me? Or are you going to get that dress on that rope and down the wall?”
Simmo felt his heart break out of his chest – it was either this or his corset had snapped a few threads. He hoped for the latter; being caught dead in a dress wasn’t the way he wanted to be remembered. Metal swords on stone could be heard at the far end of the parapet and, as skilled a swordsman as he was, fighting in a broken corset wasn’t going to be fun. He took one final look and swung his leg over the battlement and started down the rope.
The force of the explosion knocked Divol and Gaius to the ground and, several moments later a flaming red-headed woman in battle armour landed atop them.
Simmo’s eyes were shut most of the time, as he took baby steps down the wall. He opened his eyes briefly to see a prison guard, dagger in hand, sawing against his rope. He mouthed a “Nooooo” as the rope let go. He imagined falling would take several seconds and that he’d see things from his life. Instead, he thudded into the ground almost instantly.
Vizsla offered him a hand. “You should’ve let go nearer the top, might have knocked some sense into you.”
At the northern end of the prison a narrow path led to the beach, where the traveling circus, Mearaithe, and Tom crossed paths with Bia and the would-be cheese thieves. Quick introductions made, a boat was found, and they rowed to the Behemoth. In the background, Weifu burned.
While the new guests were found quarters, and Simmo found something more appropriate to wear, Divol and Gaius headed below deck. They stood in silence for a moment until Gaius finally offered him a small hessian pouch that hung from his belt. Divol opened it and the scent of a cheese met his nose. “Is this a Sandringham?” he managed.
The long crate shifted again. More nails moved. Was that cheese she could smell?
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