***Boots***
Boots summoned Oscar to his aid. Although it pained him, he needed to know the placenames on the map before the meeting. Less he look a fool in front of the assorted townsfolk later.
Together they poured over the intricate map. Focusing on the region they inhabited. Fenniton was positioned to the southwest.
If you were to follow the road north-west from Fenniton you would pass over Nook's Bridge and find yourself on the way to Foxville. A small fishing village on the edge of Ranton Lake.
If you continued north-west, you would soon be walking along the mountain pass which snaked its way between a lone mountain, that lay separated from the Gemlock Mountain range.
The long collection of mountains surrounded them in a horse-shoe shape, with the opening to the north-east.
From the south-west all the way round to the north, Fenniton was flanked by the distant mountains. There was the occasional trail pass marked through the mountains to the south. But the north looked almost unpassable.
If you followed the road to the north-east, the road the Crusaders had departed on, you would find Bandlehurst to your right and Ranton lake to your left. The river Nix by Fenniton flowed out from this lake, but it also fed the river Lown, which went east then dog-legged north-east towards Javos.
To the north of Ranton Lake was Ranton Marshes, an area of wetlands that lay between Brocton and the lone mountain.
The township of Brocton sat to the northeast, several kilometres away. Boots noted it's size. According to the map, the paved central section alone was at least four times larger than the walled section of Fenniton.
It appeared to have a low wall skirting the central section, if the map was to be believed. There were three unpaved sections of the town, to the north, west and east. These appeared to be where the lower class lived, multitudes of wooden houses were bundled together, with little rhyme or reason to their layout.
To the east of Brocton were a series of fields leading up to a village. The small farming village by the name of Rasvillie was surrounded by acres upon acres of fields, leading all the way down to the river Lown.
On the other side of the Lown was the village of Bidley. A small farming community. Fields extended to the north-east as far as the mountains and to the south west all the way to Fenniton.
It was a lot to take in. Boots was glad he had a map.
Looking at the terrain, an idea started to form in his mind.
The only way an army could march to Fenniton was through a gap in the mountains to the north-east. At a place called Orion's pass.
There even appeared to be a wall and a pair of gates erected. One for the road, the other for the river Lown. An easily defensible location.
'It would have been the perfect place for a castle.' Boots thought to himself.
He was curious as to why none had been erected. It would be in a formidable location and able to protect the whole valley.
Why was Fenniton purposed as a castle location in the first place? When there was such an ideal location a few kilometres away. From Fenniton, a castle could only protect the small pass to the south where the Nix flowed down to the lowlands.
Other than that, it would be pointless. Unless you expected an attack from the mountains to the west. Which seemed unlikely.
Regardless, if Boots could convince the township of Brocton to defect to his cause, he could then block Orion's pass with ease.
Pino would be forced to either; attempt to pass the murderous terrain of the Gemlock mountain range or embark on the immense trek around to the south. It would take him months to complete. Fenniton and Brocton sat in the only clear stretch of land through the mountains.
Boots was starting to see why this area was so important to Pino.
He would deny him its use at any cost.
"Thank you for your assistance Oswald." Boots nodded his appreciation.
"Glad I could help!" Oswald said with a smile, "Do you need me for anything else?"
"No, I think I've got it from here, you can get back to your book." Boots said, turning back to his map as Oswald scurried off to get back to reading.
A quick look out the window told Boots it was almost sunset.
The meeting that was due to take place was a necessary evil. Boots wasn't entirely keen on the whole thing. He knew it was probably going to take all night, the more people came, the worse it would be.
Everybody would have something to say, there would no doubt even be a few that tried to use this as an opportunity to advance their own goals.
Boots cleared his table with a sigh.
"Let's get this over with."
***Garv***
The trio walked lazily along the road in the Crusaders wake, the sun was setting, and they needed to find a place to stay for the night.
The Crusaders seemed to have made it over the bridge into Brocton. They had decided it would be safer for them to avoid the town for the time being.
Better to wait outside tonight. The soldiers were sure to have left by the morning if they hadn't just travelled straight through. Although Garv doubted they would have, it was a long way to the next town after Brocton. A full day's travel past Orion's pass on foot.
There was a small farm hold by the bridge that looked inviting. It was a two-story wooden construction with a thatch roof, a well sat out the front and a small stable was built against the side of the house.
There was smoke slowly flowing from the chimney.
Somebody was definitely home.
Cassandra was already falling asleep on Garv's shoulders. It had been a long day for the young girl.
"Whadya think Boss?" Garv gestured in the direction of the house, "Try our luck?"
Magar looked at the building for a moment, weighing up their options, "I don't know Garv, they might not be welcoming to guys like us."
"We've got to try, I'm ok with roughing it outside but," he looked upwards at Cassandra's sleepy face, "I'd rather not leave her out in the cold, she doesn't have the clothing for it."
Magar looked briefly at the girl. His steely gaze softening, "I suppose you're right; we can't afford not to try."
Their deliberations over, the pair strode up to the front door of the house.
Magar briskly rapped three short knocks on the door.
There was a pause, the muted sounds of conversation murmured from the other side of the wooden door.
Finally, the clip-clapping of steps could be heard, and the door opened a crack.
"Hello?" the voice of a woman emanated from the crack, "Can I help you?"
"Hello Miss, I was wondering if it would be possible for my travelling companions and I to stay for the night?" Magar tried in his best attempt at politeness, only managing to be slightly less threatening than usual.
"Well, I'm sorry but… there have been raids and fires….I think it would be better if-"
"Oh, please Miss!" Garv said, jumping in front of Magar to address the voice, "We know it's a big ask and we would just sleep outside on any other day, but we have a young girl here who's had a terrible time! Could we at least leave her with you for the night?"
The crack opened slightly as the woman took stock of the sleeping Cassandra. There was a tense pause.
"Poor thing," the woman sighed softly, "I suppose so, you two can stay in the stable and I'll find a bed for the girl."
Garv's face lit up!
A loud thudding sound started coming from the doorframe.
"Garv… tail." Magar said with a sigh.
"Oh, sorry." Garv said, restraining the runaway tail with a sheepish grin.
The door fully opened to reveal a middle aged leporidian, she had long ears and a harlequin colouration of brown and white, with black patches.
She stood about five feet tall on strong looking legs. Garv noticed as she took Cassandra from him that she had a little fluffy tail. Which he thought was adorable.
"My name is Skye," she said politely, "You're in luck, we're just about to make dinner. You're more than welcome to have some."
Garv and Magar both nodded vigorously.
Garv was barely able to keep the drool in his mouth.
"I am Garv, this is Magar," Garv gestured, wiping his chin, "The one you are holding is Cassandra."
"We are more than happy to do some chores for you tomorrow, as recompense for your hospitality." Magar said earnestly.
"Well now that you mention it," Skye smiled, putting a hand to her chin, "The gate needs fixing, and I could always do with more chopped firewood."
She gestured to the mountain of logs by the side of the house, "A couple of big strong fellas like you should have no trouble with that lot."
"Not a problem." Magar said with a less-intimidating-than-usual smile.
"We'd be happy to!" Garv chipped in.
"Okay then, dinner will be served in about an hour, you're welcome to come in and sit down but you can leave those muddy boots at the door. I've just swept."
***Boots***
The sun was setting, and the meeting had been called. The nominated delegates filed in one by one. Roman stood by Boots's side and filled him in on who was who.
The first to sit down was Logan Davidson, a gruff looking middle-aged man in overalls. He had dark brown fur and a chunk missing from his left ear. He was a warehouse foreman who represented the majority of the dockworkers.
Next was Gerald, who Boots already knew. He would be speaking on behalf of the town as a whole, it's traditions and values that he knew all too well.
Then came Theresa Cotton, an elderly felinian with grey fur. She was representing the textile industry. She owned a couple of clothing shops and fabric workhouses. She was responsible for many workers.
After that came Colin, the blacksmith. He was representing the craftsmen of Fenniton. He was a short but very well-built man with tan fur and blackened hands. Presumably from soot.
Next up was Peter Yarnsdale, the eldest of the three brothers that Boots had fought with on the raid. He was here to represent the farmers. Possibly the most average person Boots had ever met.
Justin Kibble was next in. He was the Captain of the town guard, or what was left of it. A slim looking man with a sword at his hip.
And that was the last of them. Seven including Roman. Boots had expected more but he supposed that this meant there weren't too many differing opinions in the camp.
"I was expecting more of you." Boots said to the room.
"Unfortunately, it seems most of the long-whiskers were in the first groups to be abducted and ferreted away by the Crusaders." Gerald said with a hint of bitterness.
Boots pondered this statement. Why would Pino prioritise taking the town elders, what was he hoping to achieve?
It was not something he could figure out right away, besides, he had more pressing concerns to deal with.
"I see," Boots said stroking his chin, "Well, thank you all for coming. I will present this to you the same way I did so in the woods."
Boots paused for effect.
"The way I see it, we have two options; scatter to the hills, which carries the same discouraging odds as it did before. Or we fight for our right to exist freely. I have some semblance of a plan that we may be able to get working, but I will need your help to pull it off."
There was a grim silence in the room, clearly the thought of fighting the kingdom was weighing heavily on their minds.
Justin Kibble, the town guardsman, cleared his throat at the end of the table, "With all due respect, Mr Boots. Why are we even listening to you in the first place? We don't even know who you are."
A dumbfounded silence filled the room as all heads turned to Boots.
"Well, I suppose I owe you an explanation."