MechWarrior: Periphery Lord Quest (Archive)

[Lord Of Flames]

Written by ChaosDaemon, edited by LordofFlames.

Sometime in Early 3031.

Alan bounced the small ball that his guards had let him have against the wall of his cell, catching it on the rebound. It was a mindless activity but one of the few that he could indulge in since he was imprisoned a few weeks back and seemingly forgotten about.

To be honest, he had expected that he'd have been dragged before whatever overlord that Elric could call on such short notice, at the very least be crucified before the rest of Ruxhall's and Godsfield's vassals. Instead, after getting bundled onto a DropShip and thrown into the Gawain dungeons, then getting a bag thrown over his head and hauled to some other place where he was supposedly to wait until the jumpship returned, the whole situation just seemed odd.

No meeting, no trial. Hell, they hadn't even told him what exactly happened after he got thrown in the first cell, and surely something had to have happened by now with how spitting mad Elric Gawain was.

Well, for as bad as the situation was, at least the cell they had thrown him in was roomier than the one in the Gawain keep and it might as well be a high noble's bedroom in comparison to the one's at Gladwell Keep.

Old John Gladwell didn't tolerate much, but betrayers and other criminals who caught his attention experienced a special level of neglect, and John spared every expense when it came to his dungeons with the sole exception of security. Even if you got out of one of those cells, you'd be shot before you made it a dozen feet, guards situated just out of sight from the block to give you the illusion of a chance.

Those cells were cold, drafty, wet, and filthy. Nearly pitch black, and filled with rodents, and a fresh helping of bugs with whatever slop was sent down just often enough to keep you living. Little wonder that a lot of those who were sent down there just stopped eating not long after they arrived, long before their trials were scheduled to occur.

Still, didn't mean that this cell was what could be called comfortable. A few feet wide with no window and bars blocking access to the rest of the hall. He could just barely see that other cells were without prisoners, no, his only company were the silent guards who glared at him under their helmets when they dropped off his daily ration. Stale bread, raw salt-pork, and a helping of mashed oats wasn't great, but it was better than the gruel for Old John's prisoners.

Apparently trying to kill the realm's heir did little to ingratiate oneself with his wardens. It was a wonder that they even gave him the ball to fiddle with when he asked for something for his hands to do.

Maybe if he asks nicely, they'll give him some paper and something to draw with. He was terrible at it but just bouncing the ball was letting his mind wander too much and if he had to spend the next four months just stewing on what he did, he'd drive himself insane.

The assassination. Alan would be the first to admit, now that he had some time to stew on it, that it was more than likely a step too far, but all things considered it wasn't that far of a leap compared to some of the things that John said about intrigues the other Overlords were getting up to.

The Armmores and Sanmons had been feuding for longer than most people lived at this point and such assassinations happened before between them, with Sanmon being behind the previous overlord's death and John liked to talk of a great many other incidents between them. Who knows, maybe he liked to feel superior to old Sanmon, that he got away with it for so long compared to his rival; Only one of them had been fighting wars with his neighbors for thirty odd years with nothing to show for it.

Then there was Knightway, who had been fanning the flames between them just so he could swoop in like a vulture and steal whatever he could while they were distracted. With only Summermere keeping him in check, Andercher being too cowardly to raise a mech against any of them, Laoricia was already too big before Ginenet went and fucked that up, meaning that Knightway was going to battle his way into more land in the west soon enough. The only good thing to come out of it was Gawain splitting away, become a overlord themselves, and with the close ties, that was barely a consolation prize.

And of course, there was Godsfield who nearly killed Ruxhall in their first fight, which started a feud between them. For the longest while, he figured that Godsfield had tried to kill him then and there and just narrowly failed, but the fact that they seemed to have made up so quickly cut the legs out from under that theory, since there is no way that Ruxhall would forgive such a blatant attempt on his life. Accidents happen, and if he pays a bit of wergild for the injury, twenty late, maybe they could put it behind them.

Alan narrowed his eyes as he threw the ball harder at the wall, ducking when it came racing back towards his head. Unless, of course, Ruxhall was just that gutless of a traitor and turncoat that he'd work with the man who tried to kill him just to get in a bit closer with Gawain. Was his honor really so cheap that some Gawain scraps were enough to buy him out from his true ally?

It would hardly be the first time it worked, with Alice betraying Gladwell and declaring for Gawain before her father's body was even in the damn ground. Why else would Gawain give her family a mech just after they invaded his homeland, much less be given another heavy at the first opportunity? And she had the gall to call him a dog.

He might have betrayed John's trust, but he didn't sell it to the highest bidder!

Alan snarled as he threw the ball harshly, only to watch it bounce wildly off the wall and between the bars of his cell, rubber echoing down the hallway well out of reach.

Cursing at himself, Alan stood up and started pacing to try and bleed off the anger he was feeling.

He should have tried to keep quiet when Elric questioned him. He'd die but at least then he die with his honor intact instead of being like of Alice or Ruxhall who betrayed their oaths the moment that things become hard for them.

But he didn't, and didn't that make him no better than them when all things were said and done? He betrayed everyone, his overlord, his house, and his family and when it came to it, he saved his own damn skin and it was going to be his family who was going pay for it when Gladwell demands that they repay for the loss of his machine.

Maybe… Maybe it's not too late to try and fix things. He already gave Gawain his word he'd testify, and his oath was shot one too many times when he agreed to that so he won't betray it further, but maybe if he asked Gawain to turn him over to Old John it would help make things right back home.

Oh, John would hang him for sure, 'And maybe not just kill him' a dark part of his mind chimed in, but he might not take what little was in his family's estate if he'd already taken his displeasure out on him.

It was far from ideal, but he wasn't in a situation where there were any good options for him. Either exile and whatever existence he could scrap together where his family suffered in his place, or a long drawn out death where his family might survive. Bad option abound, but when you've got nothing else, you do the best you can, Alan hedged.

The clank of the door opening at the end of the hallway interrupted his thoughts. By his count it was too early for food, so the guards must want him for something and if the guards were fetching him than it must mean Elric was calling on him.

"You got a visitor. Keep back from the door, or you'll get worse than a bruise." The guard called out as two pairs of footsteps sounded down the silent hall.

This is it then, Alan thought as he took a few more deep breaths before squaring his shoulder and steeled himself for the fate he resigned himself to. He turned to face the man he would beg before, if only to save his family from terror.

That steel immediately crumpled when he saw a face, one that was far more terrifying than Elric's, appear before him.

She was a severe looking woman, her blond hair bundled up in a bun, brow furrowed beneath a few hanging strands. Dressed in a simple riding shirt and pants, very much unlike the many other ladies he had seen over the years, and most likely a holdover from her time as one of John's Dragoons, with thick leather gloves folded behind her back as she stared at him with piercing eyes that made him feel like a child getting ready for a scalding-hot scolding.

"H-Hello Mother," Alan muttered, trying to meet her gaze but not quite managing it.

The guard stepped forward, blocking her from sight for a moment as he unlocked the cell door, "Just knock on the door when you're done, Mrs. Vanessa," Their eyes met for a moment in what almost seemed like amusement before the guard stepped out of the way and walked back down the hallway, giving the two some privacy.

The pair of them stayed in place, Alan pinned in place by his mother's look and his mother patiently waiting until they were truly alone.

As the door clanked shut, she strode into his modest cell as though to inspect it closer.

"Nicer than those at the keep," She blandly commented, her tone as flat as he'd ever heard it. Oh, she was pissed.

"Yeah, it's not bad, not a rat in sight." Alan agreed.

Another few beats of silence passed between them.

"What happened?" She asked.

"I didn't think-" Alan started, only for her to slap him across the face. It stung like hell, but it was the shock that made him take a step backwards.

"Of course, you weren't thinking," Vanessa hissed, "If you did you wouldn't be in a cell for attempting to assassinate three overlords."

Alan didn't reply, simply rubbed his hand across his cheek and finally met her angry brown eyes.

"One more time," Vanessa spoke slowly, her eyes not leaving him. "What. Happened."

Swallowing slowly, Alan retold the story he gave Elric. Thankfully there wasn't anything he needed to add to it, and he didn't dare to leave anything out.

Why John chose him to pilot the Hawk, the mission he gave him, what happened on that fateful mission, and any of the pointed questions she asked him.

By the end he was sitting on the cot, trying and failing to meet her disappointed eyes.

"The same you told Elric, good." She gave him a nod, the only movement she had made since slapping him across the face. There might even have been approval in her voice.

"I said I would be honest to him," Alan grumbled under his breath.

"You also swore to be a knight, not a common thug, but that oath obviously didn't stick." Vanessa countered.

"I'm not a thug," Alan replied, more than bit hurt that his mom would call him that, standing tall and finally able to meet her gaze, "My lord gave me an order and I obeyed, as is any knight's duty to his liege."

Vanessa regarded him very coldly, "Lords do not need to order their vassals to murder others in cold blood to keep their grip on power. The very act of doing so disqualifies them from such a position."

"Of course they do," Alan scoffed, "How is this any different than what Knightway is doing to Armmore or Summermere?"

His mother gave Alan the Look. The one she gave his father after he did or said something so stupid that there were no words that she could say to truly express just how stupid something was, and so was settling for Looking at you like she was tempted to try and strangle the stupid out of you.

"My god," She finally said after a few long seconds as she palmed her face with her right hand, "You actually believe the crap John's been saying for years."

Alan gave her a bewildered look, "He's the head of our family, why wouldn't I believe what he said?"

"Yes, he's the head of our family. He who should be the best among us, exemplar and idol. Why would he lie to his own family about what is going on?" Vanessa said with an odd mocking tone to her voice, not removing her hand from her face. "It does explain everything, doesn't it?"

Alan wasn't quite sure how to respond to that and so stayed quiet as his mother smothered her disappointment.

"What… exactly happen out there?" Alan finally asked, "Elric gave me the impression that he wanted me to testify in person, but I can't imagine him waiting this long with how angry he was and that you're here means something has to have happened."

With a sigh, Vanessa dropped her hand and gave him the same cold stare, "You didn't testify because he didn't need you to. Elric accused Lord John of the attempted assassination over the radio network and in response John attacked the Gawains again. You know, instead of just going 'No, I didn't,' like a sane person."

Alan winced at that, Mulstadia's military wasn't a slouch by any means, but against what Laoricia had managed to find over the last year? Any war could only go one way, probably a few hundred loyal bannermen on his head for talking, "What did Lord John have to pay in weregild?"

Vanessa studied him for a moment before replying, "To start with: His life. John's dead."

Alan rocked back on his heels in shock, then leaned against the wall as the revelation sunk in. He knew that Elric was good in a mech, but John had been piloting a mech for decades at this point. He didn't think Elric could pull it off, but if his mother was saying it then that had to be true. At least that was the end of things on the Gladwell side of the issue. One overlord ducked, three to go. "I see."

"You really don't," She replied, and at his questioning look she continued, "Elric dragged John Gladwell before the entire council and following a quick trial, he was declared guilty of high crimes against Freirehalt and was sentenced to death by blade."

It took Alan a good while to process that. The council had executed an Overlord? They… That wasn't something they could even do, right? Sure, they had done that to lesser lords, the Ginenets being the most recent example, but the number of times they had done that personally could have been counted on both hands since the Table landed. To do that to a Overlord, one heirs of the founders and for someone who had been ennobled since the start, someone comparable to Sanmon in age and dignity?

There had to be more to it, there was no way that the council would have just… done that out of nowhere?

"How did Elric manage that? How did he get them to throw out two hundred years of precedent?" Alan managed to choke out his questions, it was the only explanation that made any sense. Elric was looking for any excuse to punish their house and family and he had the metal to bribe anyone he needed to get everyone on his side and with four other major houses with him, he might not have bribed them to do so.

As for what that meant for his whole house though… Was Alan now responsible for ending a founding line?

Fortunately for his mental state, his mother put such fears to rest with an entirely new shock to how he thought the world worked.

"Elric was the voice of reason in the room." His mother revealed, "Because he didn't want John beaten to death on the spot when his misdeeds came to light. He fought Lord Sanmon to keep John alive."

"What?" Alan managed to croak out.

Vanessa pressed on, "Following his execution, the council agreed that due to the severity of his crimes that none of his children could be trusted with rulership and that succession would pass to Serina's children when they come of age, to be raised as wards under Gawain's auspice, along with stewardship of the Victor. Meanwhile, Tabitha Gladwell, your distant cousin, will rule as regent with weregild paid out to Ruxhall and Godsfield for the attempt on their lives."

"Tabitha..." Alan latch onto one name that he vaguely recognized in an attempt to try and make some sense out of the mess that was sprawling out, "Isn't she some merchant?"

"She's family," She corrected, "Who was far enough away from John's schemes and on poor enough terms with him that they could all agree on that she was very unlikely to approve of anything that he was doing. With any luck she can salvage something from the ruin John brought us."

Alan's mouth felt as dry as the desert. The Victor gone, The eldest sons disinherited, The family's coffers emptied. All because he took that fucking order from him? It felt like the whole world had gone nuts. "Mom I… I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Vanessa sighed, her look softening for the first time since she came in, as she laid a hand on Alan's shoulder, "You were the catalyst, but you aren't the only one responsible. If John hadn't ruled like a trumped up bandit we wouldn't be here in the first place. If anyone in the family had been willing to stop him, then we could have ended this long before it got to this point."

They stayed like that for a moment as Alan desperately tried to organize his thoughts. When he finished, he felt resigned. "What happens now?"

Venessa folded her hands back behind her back, "I'll speak with Lord Gawain. You need to be punished for your stupidity, but to be exiled forever for something the entirety of House Gladwell should, and has, been guilty of is unfair." She gave an exaggerated look around the cell, as if it would have become more interesting in the last few minutes, "At the very least, your last few months here should be among your family where you can actually prepare for the Sphere rather than be locked in this box, we should have enough collateral to show that you won't run if the time comes." She locked eyes with Alan and it felt as though the room temperature dropped a few degrees, "I expect that won't be another mistake on my part like allowing you to the tournament was."

"N-no, of course not!" Alan quickly denied.

"It better not," Venessa stepped back to the door of the cell, giving him one last look, before she strode out of the cell. She pulled the door shut behind her and with a single nod strode out of sight, leaving Alan to try and piece together what he thought he knew about the world.