Christina
Lord Mallsrek Skagerlly
The Iron Plaines, the Witherlands

His axe struck one of his opponents, gorging a dent into the shield, which now was only held by a thin strip of leather. He relished training with his hearthroop, he was in his element, pouring blood, mud and sweat with his men, preparing for the only thing he knew of this world: war. It was common training to pit four men against him, one of the most crucial training methods he knew to improve his already highly heightened battle skills. Tripping one of the soldiers up he then whipped around and struck another with the butt of his great axe. Yes he was fighting, but not for his life, these troops needed to be up to par with him.

Suddenly he heard a commotion coming from the ring of onlookers and he turned around to see the messenger he had given orders to earlier push his way through the crowd. "That's enough for the moment lads." He says gruffly to his four sparring partners before striding over to the messenger and looking down at him. There was a clear height difference between the two, only made worse by Mallsrek's frame which blotted out the sky when the messenger looked up. "Have you carried out my orders to the word?" He barks it out, glaring at the messenger, who looks like he's about to faint.

The messenger answers quietly fearing the rage of Mallsrek at what he was about to say. "Your brother Shaydrin said that he would take care of that as you commanded."

Mallsrek was consumed with fury, knowing full well that his brother had no intention in following his orders, but instead do what suited him the most. He shouts in a loud voice, tainted with anger. "Saddle the horses, I'll go see this snivelling wimp and ensure that my orders are followed correctly. Meanwhile the rest of you get back to training, we have a war to finish and last I checked it hasn't stopped whilst my idiot half brother has been meddling with my commands." With that he turns and heads back to his tent, putting on his armour and helm, strapping his shield to his back and grabbing his weapons. "Time to go teach that impudent excuse a lesson in manners."


Outside Castle Barrmount

Mallsrek thundered through the devastated ruins, followed by a small proportion of his hearthtroop. Hearing the thunder of hooves refugees parted ways and hid from this beast of a man. His reputation was not one to be trifled with and they knew that nothing good awaited them if the met him. Approaching the figure of his brother he reined his destrier to a halt and signalled for his men to stay where they were, before dismounting and approaching Shaydrin.

"So now you don't listen to my orders you coward? Need I remind you that I'm in charge here. You're only here because I allow it. And before you say anything, I know you have your uses but this is not one of them. Go back to the tent and sort out the diplomacy."

Only now did he notice the small huddled figure of the girl and a smirk found it's way on his bearded face. "I never knew you liked them so young. Maybe it's because they can't put up a fight unlike a woman." He broke into a guttural laugh, the men surrounding them joining in.
Ramiro
Shaydrin Skagerlly
Outside Castle Barrmount

Shaydrin looked off towards the distant north. "So it would seem." Turning his gaze back down to her, he gave her a frown. "It pains me to tell you this, but being from some far-flung, sunless fishing village that sacrifices little babbies to the brine ..." He shook his head. "That's not very unique. It certainly doesn't explain why—"

He straightened suddenly at the sound of incoming horsemen. Looking away from her, he beheld his half-brother dismounting and striding up to him. The stormy air that hung around Mallsrek as he approached sent goosebumps rippling across Shaydrin's skin. Purely a reaction of the flesh, of course; Shaydrin's mind was used to this man's abuse, and he knew that whatever was about to happen would not be the end of him, at least. Father would have Mallsrek's head otherwise.

Shaydrin turned to face his brother. He brushed his cloak back, and rested a gloved hand casually on the hilt of his sword, maintaining a blank expression as he regarded Mallsrek. He was barely able to give Mallsrek a nod of salutation before the big brute started ranting at him. His remarks concerning Maren made Shaydrin's skin crawl, and he felt the familiar urge to hack out the rotten lungs that dared give air to such words.

Swallowing his venom, Shaydrin raised his brows at Mallsrek. "You should be gracious, brother. I'm helping to sanitize your little endeavour here." He nodded towards the speared corpse in the snow. "Like that poor sod there, who nearly brought the plague into our midst. Surely we have enough men as it is? And even more when Lord Nathaniel manages to get the Plainsmen on our side." 

He looked at the herded peasants. "Bringing more men into the fold is an important matter of *Logistics*, brother. Surely you should have asked Father beforehand?" He was barely able to contain his smirk.
Stephen
Maren
Outside Castle Barrmount

Maren was going to correct Shaydrin about the whole sacrificing babies. They didn't kill little babies, that would be awful, terrible, although there wasn't much to be said about what her father did to *Her*. She made a note in her mind to correct him after he was done talking, but they were interrupted by a stark spike in their ears.

Maren turned around to look up at Mallsrek with raised eyebrows, and she instinctively backed up, closer to Shaydrin, standing partially in front of him. This was not a sandwich that she wanted to be a part of, the tension in the air made her feel on edge.

She dug her bare toes into the snow, looking in between them as they spoke with aggressive undertones and words that heated the bitter cold air.

She looked even more confused when she was mentioned. Why would she fight an adult? She furrowed her brow deeply, scratching at the front of her neck in confusion. If she had the chance to ask them what they meant, she would, eventually. But for now, her place as not only as a child, but also as a girl, was to be quiet, and not speak unless spoken to.
Christina
Lord Mallsrek Skagerlly
Outside Castle Barrmount

"I do not need to ask Father anything, you should know better. Remember your place otherwise I'll help you remember it. " He says gripping his great axe menacingly in front of Shaydrin. "You say our side brother, but that's not more troops for our house, instead it's for House Vivayn, who are powerful enough as it is. These recruits will join the Skagerlly ranks, we can use them as a meat shield for the rest of our troops, I mean it's either death at war or dying of hunger out in the wastelands. At least here they have a chance for redemption and possibly glory for one or two of them."

With that he orders the soldiers around him to carry on their work herding the able bodied refugees together. "I suggest brother that you carry on in your role of supervision, go play with your little maps and with that girl there if you so wish but stay out of my way or you'll regret it."

He turns around and takes a few steps away before turning back to face him. "What are Nathaniel's plans then if you seem to know so much? I want to get this waste of a siege finished and get back to the proper work." He smirks at his last comment before glaring at his half brother, waiting for an answer.
Ramiro
Sir Shaydrin Skagerlly
Outside Castle Barrmount

*Oh, so it's I who should know better?* A bitter wad of spit rose up to his gums. Mallsrek's words almost tasted of treason, of sedition against House Vivayn. There was no hope trying to contain the power of the Snow Crow; its wings already had their shadow over House Skagerlly. That was how it was, and how it always had been, no matter how powerful the Skagerllys were over their own subjects, or over those who fell in their way. Mallsrek had all the vivacity and ambition that any heir apparent should have, and none of the insight necessary to make good use of it. It was moments like these, when he saw his half-brother at his worst, that Shaydrin felt most vividly both the potential glory of his lordship, and his mournful distance from acquiring it.

"Nathaniel's plan," He said, enunciating his words with a seething growl, "Is to make the Barrmount's kneel to us. Isn't that what you want? Isn't that what you *All* Want?" He pointed at Mallsrek's men. "To drink the Barrmount's ale, to have at their food and their silver and their women?" He cawed a laugh at them. "Burn these halls down, and the fruit of your foolishness will be short-lived. Have faith in one of the few men in this army who has any meaningful spark in his head, and you'll all benefit.

"And you, Mallsrek. Lord of all the Iron Plains, with the mistress of the Barrmount tribe as your wedded wife." He looked up at the heights of Castle Barrmount. "Poor Sibyl. She may be a Barrmount, but no woman deserves *You*. Though I pray for our liege lord's success, part of me hopes that the poor woman will get a knife, or some poison, smuggled to her chambers before the time comes."

He smiled. "But with luck, you'll have a lovely, living bride to marry. You and all your men can spoil yourself on the Barrmount bounty for years to come." His face softened, and he brushed past Maren to come close to Mallsrek's face, his beautiful grey eyes narrowed and spiteful. "Meanwhile, men like me, and Father, and Nathaniel, will all be reaping the *True* Fruits of our victory."
Christina
Lord Mallsrek Skagerlly
Outside Castle Barrmount

"You think that I'm satisfied with making them bow to us? Then you do not know me brother. I wish to make them all pay for their insufferable existence. The Crimson River will run red with their blood for days after I'm done with them, and that will only be the start of their suffering, isn't that right lads? We'll wipe their whole existence off this map, I'll do it singlehandedly if I must." He looked around, his hearthtroop all nodding their heads at his words, no surprise there since they were his most loyal and fearsome subjects. "Aye the Barrmount woman will be spared, she will bear me sons who will fight for the honour of our house, unlike weasels like you who prefer to sit behind a desk rather than lead on the battlefield." He spat those words out, his face contorting in disgust. "We may be vassals to House Vivayn, but that doesn't meab that we have to remain weak. Our military is strong, but I will forge it into an elite fighting force that nothing can stand in the way of."

"Once we're done with House Barrmount, we'll go raiding elsewhere. I won't be caught sitting still back at the Weeping Pit, it is time to make good our reputation and strike fear in our enemies. They won't see us coming and they will regret the day we do. Do unto others hey brother, at least we can agree on that can't we?" He looks at him his anger having disappeared, his features calmer now.

"You can sort out the diplomatics of this siege and all the rest can't you?
Stephen
Maren
Outside Castle Barrmount

Maren was scared of all the arguments, and she kept her mouth shut, but she began to wonder if the brothers knew they were still in danger around the people who were sick.

"Everyone is sick, sire." She eeped up to the bigger, angrier one. "I'm the only one who's not, see... They all are sick."
Ramiro
Sir Shaydrin Skagerlly
Outside Castle Barrmount

Shaydrin opened his mouth to retaliate against his brother, but stopped to look at the girl and hear her meek words. There was a faint tremble in his spine to see the girl speaking to Mallsrek, and no less seeming to imply his ignorance (or, more accurately, to expose it). It was a danger-sense of Mallsrek's potential reaction. Shaydrin locked eyes on Mallsrek. "She ain't sick, Mallsrek. Look at her. And look at all the folk she was with." He gestured behind to the peasants from whom he had extracted Maren, who still were being sorted through and almost all given the blade. "Doesn't that seem curious to you, brother? Or that she's marked all over like she's one of the sacred stones?" He looked goadingly at all of Mallsrek's men. "Would none of you have fear for the gods? Would none of you heed a sign?" He challenged of them with a harsh, rising tone, grabbing the girl by the collar and displaying her to them with a face full of wrath.