Castle Medievia

Designed by Shalafi, revamped by Arethusa
  • Rooms: 220
  • Lifespan: 20 minutes
  • Type: LPK

  • Suggested Levels
  • Solo: 8-14
  • Medium Groups: 8-12
  • Large Groups: 5-10

  • Zvein, a balding, heavyset man, waited patiently in his barracks. The room was sparsely decorated, and only maps of the City of Medievia and Castle Medievia hung on the walls. He looked disgustedly upon the many suits hanging in his meager closet. The suits were the standard garb worn by the proud Medievia Guardsmen.

    "Bah!" he exclaimed, and spat on the ground. "They WILL pay, every damn one of 'em."

    Falgizio, a tall man around twenty, suddenly burst into the room. His face was red, sweat streamed from his face, and he was breathless.

    "He ... it's done ... we did ... it" was all Falgizio was able to muster between breaths.

    "Huh? Calm down, kiddo, I can't understand a word yer sayin'!"

    Zvein rose slowly from his chair, and considered the younger man. He was wearing navy slacks and a dirty white shirt. A leather belt was securely attached to his waist, and a long sword was sheathed into a makeshift leather holder.

    "WE DID IT!" Falgizio shouted, when he had finally regained his breath. "The mission was a success! Flora is being held, and we are currently writing our demands to her next of kin."

    Zvein grinned, and offered the younger man a drink. He refused and asked to be dismissed. Kerst, the Captain of the guards, would be fired for this, and Zvein would receive a hefty amount for the safety of the Duke's niece. He sat back into his chair, contented. Kerst. He said the name silently to himself, and smiled at the thought of his revenge. The Captain had always given him lousy reports, always complained when he took extra time off, and then finally, fired him. After drinking down the rest of his drink, he slowly made his way to the door to celebrate with his men.

    "Congratulations, men! They will never be prepared for this!" he shouted as he entered a large stone room, surrounded with many men drinking heartily.

    Kerst was sitting before an expansive oak desk, sipping herbal tea, when the news came. A large envelope contained parchment written in Zvein's clumsy handwriting. He would recognize that louse's writing anywhere. He sighed deeply and smoked heavily on his pipe as he regarded the letter. It would take thirty million gold to free Flora, Duke Pherrance's youngest niece. Flora had fled Trellor, after many threats from the local miscreants. Frowning, he put his hands on his hips and chewed on his lip. Gathering a slew of men, he would have to seal off parts of the castle, including the deep tunnels. He didn't have the slightest idea of where to start. The Duke's only other kin, Brina, had been missing for many years.

    "Sir, you sent for me?" Gwarti's voice broke him from his thought process. Gwarti was ten years his junior, a broad-shouldered man with piercing blue eyes. Kerst had been training the man, and several others, in secret since his request for an elite mercenary group had been denied.

    "Yes, yes, come in. Have a seat, could you?" answered Kerst, his voice impassive. "I think we have a mission for The Group."

    Gwarti straightened his back and smiled sheepishly. Kerst could tell immediately he was interested. When a shadow fell across his face, Kerst knew when he was thinking.

    "Do you think we're ready, Sir?"

    Kerst smiled. Of course he thought they were ready, they'd been ready for months. Round-the-clock training had assured they would be prepared for any situation. Of course, he had personally trained Zvein as well, but he was sloppy, and bitter. Kerst was certain they would find Flora, and he would personally kill Zvein, and put an end to the nuisance once and for all. He reached for his sword, grabbed his jacket and walked out into the sunlight to prepare his group, The Kerstian Elites.

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