Serpent's Hold
Serpent’s Hold has been constructed on the largest island just east and south of the Cape of Heroes, the Isle of Deeds. The city is the training ground for almost all of the fighter and warrior population of Britannia, and in fact Serpent’s Hold appears to be more of a stronghold than a town. Although the town has existed for a while already only very few buildings and shops sprung up and therefore the population of the city is not exactly dense as well.
The area around Serpent’s Hold is not particularly a good hunting or farming place, and so only scarcely the warriors of the town are asked for protection and help. Additionally, most of the fighters leave the town once they have learned enough or at least think that they did, to make their fortune elsewhere. Many of them go to Jhelom, others try to join the forces of Lord British or Lord Blackthorn, and again others strive to become mercenaries or guards. The small portion of the inhabitants of the town that does not belong to the warriors are some shopkeepers, smiths and farmers who provide the fighters with goods and items.
This is the place to find military gadgets. In addition to folded steel swords, plate armor, siege towers, catapults, ballistae, etc. Rumors abound that some of the finest inventive military minds are working on a way to harness sulfurous ash to propel sharp objects with destructive force from long tubes towards a target.
Magic is tolerated if not considered useful, although most of the young, hot-blooded soldiers residing in Serpent’s Hold have their own preconceptions of the arcane arts. But those of the more experienced warriors, those who have fought some battles already, are perfectly aware that you better have strong magics on your side than on the side of your enemy. Secretely some of them might even strive to gain knowledge about magic and maybe even the ability to actively cast a spell, but only scarcely one of the soldiers admits such a wish to avoid the laughter of his comrades.
Due to the infertile nature of the area around Serpent’s Hold most goods must be imported from other countries, most important are of course raw resources like metal and grain. The only real “product” of Serpent’s Hold is trained soldiers. The little that is produced in the town itself is used for the upkeep of the city, and therefore there is no overspill that could be exported to somewhere else in Britannia.
Serpent's Hold is a single, compound structure, with an internal castle to house the Lord, Captains, and instructors, meetings halls, and mess hall. Outside of that, but within the keep's walls, are the barracks, the smithy, the stables, and the training grounds. The walls are of large stone set with mortar, and one of the things one will not find in the town are ornate columns, wall carvings and similar luxury items.
The governmental system of Serpent’s Hold is pretty much a military installation. The Lord of the keep is also the commander of the soldiers. His or her word is law, but they generally retain a council of four advisors who more often than not actually legislate, using the commander only to break ties. The advisors hold the rank of captain, and they are responsible for maintaining the instructors (lieutenants) who in turn instruct the students. Although the lord and his advisors render decisions, the discipline and training make for very few complaints from the soldiers of the hold.
Serpent’s Hold does not have any natural enemies but maybe the harpies who have been driven away of their original habitat so that the city could have been built. There is a more or less friendly competition with the paladins of Trinsic and the mercenaries of Jhelom, but only scarcely a fight goes further than a little bar-brawl and a bloody nose or two. The strongest and most loyal allies of Serpent’s hold in the meantime are Jhelom and Trinsic as well, as conflicting this might sound. Maybe the three towns are united by their similar lifestyle, their military order and discipline – but maybe they are also united by the knowledge that one day they all would have to stand up, join forces and fight for the realm and the Lords.
In general, the soldiers of Serpent’s Hold are nice enough to the average citizen, often seeing them as charges under their protection, but they do not tolerate disparaging comments about Lord British, or their own mental faculties. Soldiers here have their own set of ethics, which are similar to conventional chivalry, including a sense of discipline, duty to the king, country, and your commanding officer.
Generally Serpent’s Hold follows the same customs than most of Britain, with some noticeable additions and differences. If an instructor has a birthday he is give some days off to visit his family and celebrate. If a student has a birthday this is usually a complimentary ticket for a caroused night at the inn, often accompanied by a short beating. Birthdays of commanders, though, are celebrated in the following way: everyone is given a free day of celebration.
The most famous legend of Serpent’s Hold is the origin of its name. It seems that Lord British himself was walking along one day near Britain when he was attacked by an unknown creature. Just as the creature was about to strike him down, a silver serpent raised its head from the bush and snatched the unknown thing away, swallowing it whole.
As soon as he could catch his breath, Lord British, ran back to his home and declared the silver serpent as the symbol of his defender. He had medallions forged with the serpent’s likeness and declared its fierce bravery to all that would listen. His mother even had a necklace formed for her young son. Thus Lord British sanctioned the serpent as his icon of prowess and courage in battle and named the Hold after his rescuer.
Blood and Sweat, by Leran Meragrin, Apprentice Fencer
Another day has passed and through some strains of my hair that is wet of sweat I see the sun drown in a symphony of purple, yellow and orange. My muscles hurt and I am tired, and the longer the training lasts the heavier my shield and wooden sword seem to become.
One of the instructors shouts a warning and instinctively I roll to the side when the blade of the wooden practice sword fails to catch my sword-arm. I gasp and the grip on my own practice weapon and the sword immediately tightens again while I try to focus my concentration and the bit of the power that is left in my body on my enemy again. Of course, the lumber does not kill you – but nevertheless the hit would have added another ugly and hurting bruise to the uncounted others.
I look into the eyes of my opponent, and under his helmet they are green and tired. His breath goes heavy and unsteady, and when I look closer I see that the hand carrying the massive shield is shivering of exhaustion, just like my own. But both of us know that we will neither go to our rooms nor eat before the instructor does not declare our training to be over, at least for today.
Discipline is all in the live of a young soldier, this was the first thing they taught us. Without discipline nobody can grow strong, and without discipline the first real fight is often the last. I remember the words I have heard so often and suddenly I feel hot blood rush through my veins again, tapping into the last reserves of energy. I once again look into the green eyes in front of me and I notice that the expression in them has changed. Still, they are tired but now decidedness is glinting within them in a cold, sampling fire.
Impulse and instinct take over my thoughts and with endless hurry and immense power the wooden blades of our weapons start to cross. For some while all that is heard are the dry gasps and voiceless shouts of me and my opponent, intermixed by the cracking sound when wood meets wood or the metal of our armour and shields.
Sweat pearls on my forehead and tries to blinden my eyes, but still I keep on fighting. I will continue fighting until I won – or until I took my last breath. “Fine, that’s enough for today!” the voice of the instructor cuts into my thoughts like a knife. “Well done, you two!” he says and smiles warmly, and I can read pride in his eyes. He taps on my shoulder in a friendly manner and with a huge grin he says: “Hurry and get some clean clothes on, and then get something to eat! You must be starving, young guys as you are!” All I can do is nod and the thought of food is wonderful. And so I scuffle into the direction of the quarters, as quickly as I can, and the thoughts of blood, sweat and war are blown away and replaced by the pleasing and welcome outlook to a warm meal and clothes that do not cause pain when you are moving.
