Armand Tremeur, Baron of Cethren

Armand Tremeur is a Breton nobleman and statesman. He is the Baron of Cethren and the Lord Treasurer of Glorinel.

Early Life
Armand was born on 3rd Sun’s Height at his family’s castle Cethren, under the sign of the Apprentice, in 3E 266. His mother was rather scandalously the daughter of a serf knighted by his father minutes before their wedding. Marked by and for his low birth, only just a nobleman, there was at first some contest to Armand’s prospects of inheritance. His uncle, the Viscount of Briallen, petitioned incessantly that he should be disinherited on account of his morganatic parentage.

Tremeur was not born into abject poverty. Neither food nor guards were ever out of sight. He was, however, born essentially destitute. His lord father, whose proclivity for gambling won him a reputation and debts to match it, had largely beggared the Tremeurs. There was not much that the family owned beyond the walls of Castle Cethren and what little it did own was wagered off. Arnaud’s marriage did little to help and his dowry, a single coin, was a thing for mockery.

His youth was not altogether terrible. When he turned seven, he was per custom to become a page in the court of another nobleman. There was some difficulty at first to find him a household. Most simply looked down on the Tremeurs and denied politely. Others were offended by the offer of so lowly a ward and denied loudly. Finally, a place in the household of Count Bertrand was found. The Count of Claer had tragically a few months earlier lost his own son, of an age with Armand, and agreed to educate the boy.

Life for Armand in the County of Claer was a sure rank higher than his experience at Cethren. Count Bertrand, the very opposite of a profligate, was not frequented by debt collectors and angered barons. The castle of Claer was a good deal warmer than the castle of Cethren. The lonely solitude of his home was also a thing of the past. The Count had three daughters and two other wards, all of whom Armand quickly became attached to; one of them in later years romantically so.

By natural progression, Armand served also as Count Bertrand’s squire. He developed a fondness for riding, accompanying the Count on hunts and trips as much for pleasure as he did for duty. It quickly became his particular pastime to wander the forest of Gwain, searching at times for adventure and at other times for peace. Marksmanship was his other pursuit and he trained regularly in the woods. On his sixteenth birthday, the Count gifted Armand a longbow made from a yew tree in the forest Gwain itself.

Warriors of the Weeping Willow
When news reached Claer in 3E 284 of a war in the East between Bretons and Orcs, Armand was determined to commit himself in some way to rescuing Bretony from a coming onslaught. He was eighteen by this time and already of hope and mind to one day marry Count Bertrand’s eldest daughter Constance. In a peculiar yet not ineffective gesture to his inamorata, he boldly declared at dinner that he would join a mercenary company and ride east the following morning.

Armand’s fellow wards thought him drunk. The Count was more concerned, protesting the many dangers a mercenary would face. It was not the business of noblemen, his lord guardian added after concluding his lecture on the probability of death, to fight as mercenaries in foreign wars - or as mercenaries at all, for that matter. Armand’s spirit was not quelled. He retorted first quite proudly, stating that he did not fear death even at the hand of an Orc savage. Rather more humbly, he then noted that his father was a notorious bankrupt, his mother was barely the daughter of a knight, and that he was not yet even a knight at all. The subsequent quiet was finally brought to an end when Armand pronounced it his intention to fight in this war so that he might earn his knighthood. Though still largely unconvinced, Count Bertrand with some entreating by the others assented to Armand’s wish. He was allowed to leave the next day, taking a badge from the Count and a tied knot from Constance.

His destination was to be the outermost skirt of Breton civilisation in the long-contested Reach. There he intended to join a mercenary company called The Warriors of the Weeping Willow; already contracted in the conflict. The ride eastward was not altogether uneventful, but it was certainly quiet. A plague manufactured by the Order of the Green Dragon, cultists dedicated to Peryite, continued to affect much of Western High Rock in pockets [?]. By its seclusion in the foothills was Claer largely spared. The same could not be said of the great towns and cities, which Armand did much to avoid.

Along the road were beggars, corpses, and those destined for the latter. These were difficult to distinguish and what seemed at first to be the quiet utterings of paupers often proved to be the death rattle of the dying. Armand, hitherto unacquainted with the full horror of the plague, recalled this journey with grief. ‘At every post a pauper,’ he wrote to Claer, ‘at every station a skeleton.’

Climbing over the crest at Glowmire, Armand met his destination. Hundreds of blue tents dotted the field below, fires lighting up the night. There was a kind of majesty to it and Armand made haste down the rolling hills. Coming to the camp from the south, he declared his intention: to enlist himself into the company and fight for its captain against the Orcs.

The first battle followed soon after his enlistment. A castle to the north was besieged, the villages about it set on fire, and the king in whose employ the Warriors were could idle no longer. The mercenaries marched, leaving behind a small force of camp followers. At Castle Haearn, under the auspicious sign of the Tower, Armand drew his sword for the first time in battle. Armand’s telling of the event, though not untrue, was rather dramatic. ‘Every swing and every draw on my bow I did with righteous malice, inflicting with my fellows the great and terrible fury of all Bretony on those who looked to take an inch of it.’

The Battle at Castle Haearn
Armand rode in the forward party, sword in hand and bow strapped at his side. When they came upon the enemy camps, tasked with harassing whatever they could, the Orcs were prepared. Stakes were laid and large rocks were scattered to break up potential charges. Light skirmishes ensued. Though the mercenaries held one key advantage, the horses beneath them, the foe knew its counters. War was ever like this between the Bretons and the Orcs, where cavalry met stakes.

The Castle of Haearn was surrounded by a rudimentary wall built by its besiegers. Part wood and part rock, it was in turn was manned by sentries. Yurts were erected on the northernmost side and the largest was itself encircled by another wall. These constructions were recognisably Orcish. The castle was a stout keep contained within a single stone ring. It was set atop a hillock with a large ditch dug around it.

The forward party denied the Orcs any leave until the arrival of the greater company. Foraging parties were prevented from leaving the siege camps and raiders were prevented from returning to them. This went on for two days. When the Warriors finally arrived in full, the two forces appeared equal in size. The mercenaries, commanded by their captains, formed a wide line. The besiegers reacted with a similarly wide line. Archers on both sides climbed to higher points while the infantry began to advance. With the exception of a small band, the Breton cavalry swung entirely to the left. Armand, in the former group, steeled himself.

Battle begun quickly. Archers let successive volleys fly and footman met warrior. The fighting was fierce, Breton and Orc both taking significant blows. First the Orcs were pushed back on the right, then the Bretons in the centre. The cavalry on the left moved for the Orcish archers, struggling up the hills to force them from their positions.

When it seemed as though the fight was settling in the Bretons’ favour, Armand’s group on the right were ordered forward. They rode around the castle, cutting down the few sentries left behind. There were only forty or so of them, but on horseback they were like a force of four hundred. They fell upon the Orcish camps, setting the tents ablaze. Then they fell upon the Orcish infantry, striking them from behind. Armand found himself in the thick of the combat now, swinging left and stabbing right.

Ahead of him was the one of the Orcish commanders; some chief or vassal chief. Rallying his warriors to him, surrounded by the bodies of friends and foes, he chanted in the Orsimer tongue. Armand recognised this immediately as magic, though he did not know what exactly the chieftain sought. Fearing it may be the conjuration of some foul beast, he rode hard for the Orc.

He cut down two of the chieftain’s bodyguards before being pulled from his horse. Crashing into the mud, Armand lost himself in the chaos for a moment. An Orc warrior rushed to kill him but was struck by an arrow. Another lifted his axe overhead but was too slow, allowing Armand to stab up at him. Rising, Tremeur spotted the chieftain and continued his push towards him. Their fight was short and fierce. Armand swung and the chieftain dodged, then the chieftain thrusted and Armand dodged. There were parries and checks made by both, neither landing a blow at first. On the third bout, Armand landed a strike and pierced the Orc in the chest.

Panic took the ranks of the Orcs and they broke soon after. Cavalry gave chase as those on foot began to search the field for the wounded and the stragglers. The battle was won and the siege was lifted. For killing the chieftain, Armand was awarded three shares of the loot and made an officer. The baron of the castle rushed out to thank the leaders of the company in the aftermath, bestowing a number of gifts on them.

To be finished