OOC: Galswintha is performing research and building her twin cities throughout most of this, and sent some of her higher-level mage companions to assist the various war efforts. The player ran those mages, since the war efforts were far more interesting than a single research roll.
Vulfelind leaves for Paris, taking the slightly longer route through Orléans and Thervingi. She directs her flying canoe in fox form, along with Chadalinda (one of her two top henches) and three of Chadalinda's trusted henchmen, plus a single squad of the Bone Temple Flying Cataphract Cavalry. The trip takes a mere two weeks.
In Paris, the King of Thieves, Ermenulfus de Paris, greets them at the gates. Or at least someone who looks like him: the King of Thieves is reknowned for his disguises.
Ermenulfus: This is how you repay my friendship?
Vulfelind: I paid you. You sent someone to do the job.
Ermenulfus: I let you pick a guild-member target!
Vulfelind: That you wanted dead, yes.
Ermenulfus: Do your companions know? Do they know what you are?
Vulfelind: What am I?
Ermenulfus: A lycanthrope! A changer! An infectious rot in the purity of our guild!
Chadalinda, to Vulfelind: Friendship, he says!
Ermenulfus, shaking his head: It saddens me to end you.
… and then he disappears. Not invisible - gone!
Vulfelind laughs, “Cat and mouse? I think not.”
Instead, she ignores the cagey assassin and marches into his hideout to inform his lieutenants that she is replacing him. When they scoff, she sets down a bounty on his head: 28,000 gold and 100% of their hijinks earnings for the first season after he dies.
Between her winning smile and courtesy, she manages to persuade most of them to at least hesitate. The one who doesn’t is an old pirate who hates lycanthropes: he draws his sword and attacks.
Unarmed and alone, Vulfelind disarms him, knocks him down, pins him to the floor, and then beats his head against the floor until he is unconscious. “His loyalty speaks well of him. If any of you are his friend, escort him to the city walls. He is exiled.” One elderly thief steps forward and carries the unconscious pirate off.
After that, a week passes while Vulfelind settles in and oversees the remaking of the local syndicate … and then, while she is apparently alone in her office, Ermenulfus and three of his “former” lieutenants walk in, plus the old pirate.
Ermenulfus: I think you’ve played at this quite long enough.
Vulfelind, to the pirate: Mercy is only given once. Leave or die.
Ermenulfus: I don’t think you have any room to be giving hRRK.
From behind, an invisible thief stabs the former guild leader in the side, and Vulfelind draws and stabs with Wordthief almost simultaneously. Chaos erupts, and Ermenulfus tries to grapple her.
Chadalinda invisibly sticks him again, while Vulfelind turns the tables on the grapple and bashes his head into the desk. Within moments, the guild leader is down, just before the invisible thief and werefox dance death among the lieutenants.
Vulfelind ponders briefly, “Merideth would urge pity and forgiveness.”
Then she grimly twists their heads off and sets them into bowls to bleed out. The bowls, she sets on the decorative table just outside the office.
When they arrive later that morning, the two remaining lieutenants swear undying loyalty, and Vulfelind puts Chadalinda in charge of Paris.
And the next two months are spent meeting and acquiring fealty from the 3,000 assassins, thieves, and merchants who were Ermenulfus’ followers. For the most part, it goes well, with Vulfelind overseeing but letting Chadalinda lead, before Vulfelind jets back home.
Chlodomer speaks with the Governor of Orléans to explain the shifting tide of the Church's leadership, and then asks permission - humbly, no less - to bring military aid to the rightful leaders of the Church. The Governor, awed and unlikely to be capable of stopping the hooved warlord, agrees ... at least on the surface.
Chlodomer and Merideth march with her Church Knights and his Personal Guard … and three thousand Galaufabonne soldiers, and arrive to find their Patriarch allies under siege at each of the five major temples.
By the combined forces of the former Grand Patriarch, the treacherous Governor, the Dukes of each sub-realm of Thervingi … and King Dagobert II of Thervingi himself.
They are grossly outnumbered and - as they check the route home - outflanked.
Chlodomer: The way out is through?
Merideth: Preferably through that bastard’s smug face.
Chlodomer: Indeed.
Stealthy runners are sent home to ask for reinforcements. Maps are reviewed. And Chlodomer and Merideth take their army and march hard on Orléans, bypassing the sieges to cut off the central supply lines.
The enemy realizes too late that they are not fast enough to intercept, and two of the Dukes leave their own sieges to pursue and prevent catastrophic supply issues.
The first of the three chasing armies is a mere two days behind Chlodomer and Merideth; the second, three days; and the third, five days. Unfortunately for all, the Siege of Orléans lasts but a single day - the paltry standing forces falling almost immediately to the hungry army - and on the second day, the forces are well-fed and well-entrenched.
They do not bother to stay within the shattered walls of the city: the Galaufabonne forces sally out and crush the now-hungry and tired forces of the first Duke with minimal losses, and then erect hasty fortifications to face the second, larger force.
When the second, larger force demonstrates greater prudence as well - having procured its own supplies, and waiting on the third force - Merideth loses her patience entirely.
The Church Knights, backed by heavenly and arcane fire, pick the largest, toughest, meanest group of the enemy they can see … and charge. The Duke and his accompaniment of mid-level spear-wielding berserkers set for the charge, and horrible, horrible carnage results. Both sides suffer grievous injuries, and the Church Knights retreat from battle before the Duke’s other armies can be brought to bear. Both sides lick their wounds and heal what they can.
… with one small difference: the Church Knights are at full health in seconds - even those who seemingly fell in battle.
They charge again, with the same elan and vigor as before, and this time they smash the berserk troops to flinders and capture the Duke. They withdraw to cover once again as the enemy marches on them … and Chlodomer’s forces, rested and ready, take to the field against all of the second- and third-best troops.
They then rest and further extend their fortifications for the scant days before the third force arrives. This time, the battle has little room for maneuvering and few grand charges: it is forceful and direct, and has no clear victor, save that Chlodomer and Merideth’s side maintained their morale until the enemy finally fell apart.
Giving the enemy as little time to respond to the news as possible, Merideth force marches to the nearest Patriarch and assails that enemy from behind. She loses two knights, and promotes the most experienced squires into their roles in the next breath - she can weep later - and ends the day triumphant as the Patriarch’s forces charge out to assist and crush the enemy between them.
A hurried conference reveals the primary threats, and Merideth’s information on which Dukes abandoned their siege gives hope. She sends a single knight, stripped to minimal gear, to race back to Orléans and tell Chlodomer where to strike next, and then begins her own march there, bolstered with some of the Patriarch’s limited forces.
Chlodomer rallies his soldiers with the full force of his personality, and they split into three forces: one to march and take the last Duke, two to recover reinforcements from the two unsieged Patriarchs.
They leave the King for last … a grave error.
As all of the Galaufabonne forces meet at the last Patriarch’s temple, the King’s forces have already won, and posted the Patriarch’s head on a pike along the highway. And indeed, there are a lot of pikes, and a lot of heads.
And no King or his forces.
Chlodomer’s trackers find the trail clearly in the fresh snows … heading straight for Galaufabonne.
There is no way to beat the King to their home if the King force marches, and there are not much in the way of troops left to defend anything in Galaufabonne. One of the mages with Chlodomer can teleport, and she does so to warn Galswintha of the incoming force. Chlodomer splits his forces in half: Merideth remains with half to consolidate the Church, while Chlodomer races home with the fastest troops.
At home, Galswintha sighs, takes her army and gathers what troops are on hand to meet the enemy before they can reach the city …
… and brings the last cylinder seal wish.
When the King’s forces arrive, she goes out to meet him. And then the meeting goes something like this:
Galswintha: Your realm is falling apart. Why are you here?
Dagobert: You are misinformed.
Galswintha: You miraculously rescued your five dukes when I wasn’t looking?
Dagobert: …
Dagobert: Once I am done here, I will return and crush your friends.
Galswintha: Did you know? This grants me one wish.
Dagobert: Are you going to bribe me away?
Galswintha: It could cataclysm your domain, or teleport your army home.
Dagobert: …
There follows a brief tussle. Dagobert, with ogrish strength and various bonuses and quite a bit of combat skill, trying to grapple an elf maid and take her seal. Or rather, trying to grapple an elven spelldancer while her pet fire elemental, Sandalwood Dawn, begins to sear his flesh from his bones.
He backs down quickly.
Galswintha, breathing heavily, asks, “So you’ve decided on cataclysm? Because once I do that, I won’t win this battle, but I will tear as large a chunk out of your army as I can. I will spare nothing.”
King Dagobert III drinks a healing potion, wipes his mouth, and stares at the spelldancer’s arrayed forces. They are small, but potent. He would win, but she’s right: she could make him pay dearly for the win.
… and something in her confidence shakes him. She’s not bluffing about the seal. If she was … how could she offer to teleport his army home?
Dagobert, sighing: This isn’t over. But please, teleport us home.
Galswintha: Of course! Wording is important, so where do you wish to appear?
One used seal later, King Dagobert III and his entire army vanish. And mere days later, Chlodomer arrives.
Chlodomer: What in hell?
Galswintha: Oh, I sent him home.
Chlodomer: Right. Don’t hurt the pegasus.
(OOC: Waaaay back, there was a hill. Three wyverns were crowded around a pegasus corpse. Galswintha and Vulfelind killed them in the first round: the wyverns didn’t have the opportunity to act before the wrath of elfmaid descended upon them. “It’s a rule - don’t hurt the pegasus” has been something of a running joke since, whenever Galswintha abruptly turns into a (very, very temporary) badass.)