Chapter 1 - Summer

~ The Queen's Road, North of the Capital ~

Baron Gauthier Regnard, emissary and diplomat from the court of the Duke of Strif, screams from from his hijacked carriage--his round, red face visible, bouncing up and down, hanging from the lavish vehicles window as he cries, "HELP!"

"MOTHER of Mercies, Save my LIFE!"

The carriage speeds down the Queen's Road, a dark woodland in the distance, drawing nearer. The air is filled with the sounds of hooves on dirt and stone, the twang of crossbow strings, and the creak and squeal of axel and leather "shocks" pushed to their limits.



The 6 highway men--1 driving, a few clinging on, and a couple riding beside at break-neck speed, all wearing black masks covering their lower faces--keep looking behind at the four Gold Coats eating their dust but gaining ground in the chase!

A burly highwayman, clinging to the side of the carriage leans forward and shouts at the driver--"Faster you Mother forgotten son! I told you they were bloody coats. Faa-STER!"

The camera zooms back, and we pace with our heroes, slightly obscured by the heavy road dust--four Gold Coats!

What do we see; what mode of ground travel have our heroes acquired or "borrowed" for this chase? Did someone nab a horse that was tied outside the inn where the chase began? Does anyone have a mount the own? Is it a "borrowed" wagon?! And more importantly, how will they save this poor diplomat from the fate that's befallen him?!

Elaina feels ill. Seasick, she would say, if not for the fact that she is still technically on land - on horseback, but on land by proxinity. Yet, she never liked riding; growing up spending days in the family library and barely setting a foot outside, horses never were among her priorities. And the Clockmaker sees, she tried her best to avoid dealing with them during her time as a Gold Coat as well. Animals were just such a hassle...

"Please don't throw me off," the woman whispers despondently under her breath, clutching the reigns for dear life and trying to subtly slow the animal down - both for the sake of her health, and to avoid accidentally attracting attention of the fellow Coats to her behavior. Sword skills she could fake, but horse riding was harder. "I know I borrowed you from that nice inkeeper, but I promise I'll bring you back and even give you some... grass. Carrots? Whatever you eat."

The horse, clearly sensing that he bears an inexperienced rider, neighs at her and bucks, causing both of them to immediately be caught in the cloud of dust left by the others, inciting a coughing fit from Elaine. But at least the hooved beast is not moving as fast now, and the woman actually manages to look around without fearing an immediate loss of balance and subsequent meeting with the ground.

She does have an alternate plan. She had it since they took off, but she didn't operate well under duress, and horses clearly were one of the greatest source of duress in the world. But now, while her companions chase the carriage down the road, now Elaine can finally do something she is good at - that is, solve the problem by using her knowledge. No road in the country was ever straight; and every route can be changed. These lands were just around the capital, she travelled them for three years now - Elaine is sure that she knows a shortcut or two...Ah, of course; the old watermill! She can see its ruins to her left. It's been abandoned for years, was a lair of bandits at some point, but more importantly it had a sneaky little wooden path going by, crossing the swampy area that the main road had to weave around. If she rides through there, she'd save at least a minute over the carriage. She only needs to figure out how to convince the darn horse to turn...

Thankfully, the inkeeper's stallion decides to agree with Elaine for once, and after a tug on his reigns charges off road, onto an overgrown path leading to the ruins of the watermill. The jump he makes to get onto the planks of the pathway - or perhaps it'd me more fitting to call it a bridge? - steals her breath away and makes her cling to his neck again, but they are certainly closing up on the carriage. Now she has to quickly think on what she is planning to do once they return to the road...

Sans rides fast in hot pursuit, pushing the old plough horse he confiscated from an astonished farmer to its limit. Come on, old fellow... you pulled a heavy plough for years, surely you can manage this speed... right?

His eyes dart to the dust of cloud ahead, the carriage. His target. It mustn't get away... we must find a way to stop it. But how?...

He considers the two masked horse riders acting as wingmen to the carriage, and those clinging to the carriage itself. They want the Baron alive. For blackmailing purposes, most likely...

Then he monitors each of his companions. Good, Elaine is trying to cut them off. That girl rides... strangely.

He focuses on what's ahead of them, when a possible solution comes into view beyond a bend in the Queen's Road. Haystacks. And where there is hay, there usually is...
A Pitchfork!! he thinks in elation, seeing one sticking out of a haystack, not too far from the right edge of the road. That should stop that carriage alright, if I can jam its sturdy handle in one of the wheels, right through the spokes!

Now, if I could just grab that without losing too much speed... do you think we can do it, old fellow? he thinks patting the horse neck in encouragement.

He leads the horse to the right edge of the road, gets the reins sturdily in his gloved left hand, to free up his right one, extending it for the grab...

...YES! he exults, as his hand grips firmly around the pitchfork handle, lifting it up horizontally and securing it between his forearm and his torso, like a medieval jousting knight preparing for a charge.

The young, small man rides alongside his other Gold Coats, riding low and fast in the saddle. Aloys was a scrawny man, having grown up poor and destitute, but what he lacked in size he instead made up with courage. He was still shaking a bit of the tipsy, heady feeling he had at the tavern before borrowing a young noble's horse to catch up with his comrades.

"Brilliant idea Elaine! Good show!" Aloys shouted, a dangerous grin on his face. "I'll try to get close and distract them." Being lighter than most of his comrades, he would tuck low and push the horse that much harder to try and close the distance. The horse began to speed up, getting closer to the bandits and thugs that were holding the baron in custody.

Elaine - Birds take to wing, startled by your wild ride through the overgrown trail. Moss covered stone (once buildings) dot the rough landscape round you. Your shortcut is panning out!



Sans Visage - *Twang - Twang - Thhhwip* Crossbow bolts whistle past you, shot by the jostled highwaymen. You'd be able to see them cranking to reload as you ride on, pitchfork at the ready.

Aloys - I imagine your horse blowing hard as you're gaining! One of the "wingmen" reigns his mount in, falling back toward you. A flash of light as he whips his rapier from its sheath. His brows furrow over his mask as he continues to fall back to align with you.

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The carriage briefly rides on one wheel as it navigates a tight turn, then crashes back down. The driver whips the horses harder.

Isaac hates horses. It probably came from watching one kick a local stable boy so viciously in the head that the boy's head quite literally exploded. Issac was 7. His sister on the other hand was quite keen towards them, giving them pretty names and all the good apples when they were able to scrounge some up. Quite the equastrian too, she had done a few fanciful tricks during their performances. Suffice to say, Issac was always tense during those moments, at the ready to both save his sister and beat the horse to death were anything to happen to her.

A shame she wasn't the one riding now, as he and his companions sped towards the carriage. He probably should've expected riding horses as a required skill, along with swordsmanship and derring-do, when signing up with the Gold Coats, but hoped he'd get to it later then sooner. He saw Elaine having the same trepidation as him as she made her way around the bend up ahead. Sans and Aloys seemed to be doing well though and catching up with the brigands!

Issac shook his head, erasing the memories and fear, focusing on the mission instead. He was able to talk his way into acquiring a horse from a stable boy in exchange for performing at the boy's birthday next week (a gig he was seriously considering taking, as apparently his employers don't offer much in the way of compensation). The horse was thankfully calm and quick, but Issac's inexperience on it was slowing him down. He'd have a tough time catching up to all three but could at least shout some words of encouragement towards them along the way.

Any actor wanting to make it big had to start somewhere, and that meant cutting their teeth on any number of world-famous playwright Gilliam Makesphere's renowned plays (Roland & Jillian, A Late Winters Morning's Awakening, King Larry, Hambone, etc). And All-Maker knows, Isabela and he would work on those plays day and night. Makesphere had a litany of famous quotes, including one he thinks would rouse his fellow compatriots.

With gusto, he exclaimed "Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt. Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them!"

Issac - Your rousing lines are punctuated *ping* or a crossbow bolt bouncing off one of your horse's saddle buckles. The forest looms nearer, as the chase continues. A group of farmers looks up from their fields, watching the curious procession speed by. The horses pulling the carriage begin to lather.

The Baron still hangs from the carriage window--"I shall NOT be treated like this! I demand this farce end at ONCE!" This earns him a smack in the mouth from the gloved hand of one of his kidnappers.

Not many yard to the forest now...

Sans grimaces at the incoming crossbow bolts, then grins at Isaac's shouted verses. The man surely finds the oddest moments to show off his thespian side! Nonetheless, something in his words stirs him to action, makes him want to earn that greatness the poet hinted at.

He spurs the horse with a "Get 'em, old boy!" and picks up the pace, trying to zigzag towards the fleeing carriage to offer a harder target to the bowmen.

The old boy must also be responding to Isaac's verses and seek the same greatness, because he makes quick work of the distance separating them from the Baron carriage!

Turning the pitchfork in his hands so it points handle-side first, he manoeuvres next to the back left wheel of the carriage and times his jamming action with care... He leans down and jabs strongly in between the spokes!
"For the Queen!!"

Issac's horse gets scared and bucks as the bolt hits the saddle bag, nearly throwing Issac off the damned thing. He sees Sans spur towards the carriage and grimaces as his own pace slows even further. Sans is going to get himself killed, we need to hurry he thinks.

One of the riders begins to fall back with Aloys, bringing a wide grin to his face. Drawing his own blade, he prepared to strike and joust from atop his horse.

"I'll have you know, you spineless bastard, that I'm actually quite good at this!" Aloys was not quite good at this. Being from the streets of the metropolitan, he had the barest experience riding a horse but had quickly learned a novice's amount in his time since his service. It showed in the way the horse bounced his sword arm, as he sought to strike the man away from the carriage so that he and Sans could clearly close in.

Sans - The pitchfork jammed in the spokes causes the wheel to lock with a loud *SMACK*. The carriage fishtails, as only one wheel continues to spin. The jolt sends one of the highwaymen flying, smashing the bandit's head against a tree.

A tremble and a bounce and the pitch fork *SNAPS*. The wheel spins again, but now it wobbles to-and-fro, much of the carriages momentum lost. The forest...just dozens of yards away!Issac - You'd see that all the bowmen on the carriage are clinging for dear life, as a result of Sans' stunt.Aloys - The highwayman, keeping pace with you smiles (at least it looks like he is based on his brow and eyes!). He deftly knocks your rapier aside, and gives a thrust of his own.

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The leaves in the trees ahead flutter in a strong breeze. The dappled dark of the forest grows closer.