This is a little side-story of the fight in the yard that took place during the last session. I debated whether to post it or not as it is out-of-character knowledge, but you will likely hear some version of these events anyway during your stay at Jervholm and it provides some flavour and insight. If you feel that knowing more than your character will spoil your immersion then stop reading now.
The heat had been unbearable all day, and it was causing tempers to soar. The stench of sweat competed with the sickly sweet fragrance of over ripe summer apples, and angry voices echoed across the yard.
From his vantage point in the shade of the tree he could see everything, even if he couldn’t make out the words. The young lad was a Harjaanen, some prickly great-nephew of the Count Ita no doubt. A fool too, to be shouting at Jarasan. Lord Jarasan was not wearing mail or leather, and his barrel chest and huge arms was evident for all to see. No doubt that is what had attracted the Harjaanen girl’s interest which seemed to have caused all this ruckus, or perhaps it was the prospect of seducing the heir of House Sakari. Many had tried to be sure, but none had gained more than a bastard. Even Count Velus “The Giant” had not manage to force a ring on his son’s finger.
The Harjaanen lad’s angry shouts had only made Jarasan grin and his reply must have caused great offence to judge from the boy’s reaction. Quick as a viper he struck at Jarasan. Likely not many men were foolish enough to strike the fierce Sakari heir, for Jarasan was taken unawares and took half a step back as the punch struck his jaw. A few onlookers had already gathered and as Jarasan launched at the lad they rushed in to separate the two. He had heard of Jarasan by reputation and witnessing the man turning his raging opponent into a cowering boy with his huge fists and giving the man who tried to grab his arm a bloody nose he could see that it was well earned.
Likely attracted by the shouting a man appeared in the yard and called out: “Come now Jarasan, give the man a chance to catch his breath.” Urvo, Jarasan’s younger brother – although it was hard to believe that they were related at all. Where Jarasan was a mountain of a man, Urvo was lean and wolfish and he had none of the rugged charm that helped Jarasan sire so many bastards. It was hard not to wonder if Lady Olva had been faithful to her Count, so different were the two brothers. Jarasan turned at his brother’s words, but he could not hear what was being said over the noise of the gathering crowd.
Some men were helping the Harjaanen lad to his feet, but they jumped away quickly as he drew steel. A deadly silence fell over the yard as the young boy faced the big man, but quick as a fox Urvo unbuckled his belt and threw his sheathed sword at Jarasan. With a grim look Jarasan unsheathed the blade and discarded the belt and scabbard unceremoniously. “Nobody draws steel on Lord Jarasan and lives”. Who speaks of themselves in the third person he thought, but then again what fool boy draws steel on a man with a reputation like Jarasan. The boy had too much brawn and too little brains. Even if he was fast enough to draw blood, attacking the heir of House Sakari…
It was over before it had even begun. Lord Jarasan was a bully and a bastard, but to his credit he was not cruel or flamboyant about his martial prowess. The boy was viper fast it was true, but Jarasan deflected the blow with an easy parry and side-step, and before anyone could blink a swift counter strike gutted the boy and his future. By the time he sank to his knees Lord Jarasan had already discarded the borrowed blade and retrieved his mace from a nearby tree. He was about to return to give the boy the mercy of a swift death, but his brother intercepted him and nodded at a young man in shining mail with a crooked nose making his way to the dying boy. Lord Forsaa, son of Count Ita and heir to House Harjaanen. Jarasan hesitated for a moment – indecision – a weakness to be remembered, but Urvo said something and Jarasan relented and walked away in the opposite direction.
The scene that unfolded was chaotic, but predictable. A crowd gathered around the dying boy and heated words were exchanged as slightly different versions of what had happened was offered to the Harjaanen heir. Soon the Varis healer appeared – the oldest toth he had ever seen. Led by a servant he seemed blind, but he examined the Harjaanen boy with confidence and when he spoke the boy was lifted by two men and carried away with the healer in tow. The boy would not live, no man could survive such a wound, but courtesies demanded that he be treated nevertheless. Kinder to simply make a clean end of it he thought.
That is when spied the couple on the balcony. The one eyed man with a burned face – he had heard whisperings of his arrival although he knew nothing about him other than that he had arrived with House Artus. To his surprise he was accompanied by a beautiful woman dressed in combat leathers. Intriguing, he would make it a point to learn more about those two.