the description of Disdencamp by Elkford - a classic - I can see the character when I close my eyes - Disdencamp frolicking in the lavender -

Thank you Lubemaster - chapter 4 please....

Chapter Four

“Here boy! You missed a spot!” sneered Wensle as he mashed a dollop of horse manure into young Pickenpense’s chest. “You missed another!” shouted Scarbough as he too also smeared the smelly mess into Pickenpense’s hair. Pickenpense stayed motionless and silent. This was not the first time older boys bullied him. It was common for older boys to bully younger ones if the younger ones were alone. Rarely did groups of boys engage in such behavior with other groups of boys. Pickenpense was at a disadvantage. He had arrived with Count Disdencamp and was alone from the other serfs.

“You boys! Be off with you now or I shall take a switch to your backsides I will! Off! Be Off!” bellowed Manfred. While bullying was a common practice, no boy or young man would ever challenge anyone of position or age. If so, serious punishment ensued. While the boys were considerably larger, stronger and swifter than Manfred, they knew that by showing any signs of aggression towards a senior it would be met with very serious consequences’. The boys scampered away.

Manfred took out a cloth from his jacket and wiped the boys head “Well, your due for a bath more timely than some. What’s your name lad?” “Pickenpense sir, I’m here with Count Disdencamp’s stable”

“I see, horsemen huh?” Manfred smiled. Pickenpense looked down, ashamed “Not yet sir, I am the one whose job it is to keep all the horses tails clean.”

“Well, you’re doing a fine job of it lad I dare say, a fine job as it were. It’s an important job as well!” Pickenpense looked up at Manfred confused. “Why don’t you know that all those who see Count Disdencamp compare him to his horse’s tail?” They both laughed. “Come now boy, let’s get you cleaned up and maybe we can roust you something from the kitchen huh?” Manfred asks “Yes sir! That sounds like a well thought out plan. Thank you sir, thank you!” Pickenpense said and the two made way to the manor. As the two walk towards the manor, Manfred tells of its rich history, of the Elkfords and how well they look after the folk of the manor and hollow and village, how he has always been in the manor and actually sleeps in the very room he was born in, which his mother was born in and her father was born in.

Early the next morning, horses are assembled in front of the manor. “Sir, how long shall you be? Mmmmm I really think you should have more than 12 men with you sir, have you packed your oiled coat? Mmmmmm. The clouds do tell of weather sir. What shall I do with the Count sir? Mmmmmmm and what of Rosensmyt and the quall run? “Manfred was looking back and forth, nose dripping and mumbling between each sentence.

Elkford breezed down the steps, “Manfred, all shall be fine. You worry over things far too much. Now go wipe your nose and see to it our guest doesn’t create too much bother with the staff. Perhaps show him to the gardens. He seems to be fond of them. I shall be back within ten nights.” Elkford mounted his horse and lead his men out of the manor and into the countryside. The council was by invitation only through the high table of the Kingdom. Typically attendees were invited according to petitions and agreements. Count Disdencamp had not been invited to a council meeting in many years.

Elkton arrived into Havenshire, site of the council meeting two days after setting out. He was met in town by an old friend Squire Brown. He had much family dealings with the squire in preparing deeds and petitions and considered him to be an honest and favorable fellow. Squire Brown enjoyed the Elkton’s company but more so their business dealings. Elkton had more business to discuss. “Squire! Sir, great day! So very nice to see you.” Elkford yelled from atop his horse. Brown was making his way through the market with two servant girls helping him carry parcels. “Matthias Elkford! The lord has blessed us so yet again. This day has truly been rich in character and fruitful in history. I dare say there seems to be a long and interesting list for council.” Elkford dismounted and hugged his old friend. “Do tell. What fine man has graced your hollow? Surely they all pale in comparison! Short of the King himself none other take precedence or importance beyond you!” Elkford exclaimed.

Brown smiled widely “You flatter so which tells me you wish advice on letters. Perhaps tonight. We shall sit and work out the details. I received your transpondance and believe I have some interesting ideas to share.” The two servant girls stood by as Elkford remounted his horse. “Then tonight it is Matthias Elkford. I shall be at Havensgate upon sunset.” Brown offered.

At Elkford Manor, Count Disdencamp had become very restless. He was not at all comfortable in the manor and the order of the house made him exceedingly restless. The Count decided to tour the gardens. He had always held a fascination with the various herbs. The savory tastes of each. Some gave the feeling of euphoria that some gave while others provided a very deep and sound sleep. Count Disdencamp was in the mood for something new and strange.

Brealle, a young servant was in charge of the upkeep of the herb gardens. She had been taught the skill from her mother and grandmother and was very well versed in the tastes and effects each plant had.

“You there, young girl. What is your name?” The count had surprised Brealle. She was not expecting any visitors and often found her self deep in concentration with her pruning and selections for the kitchen or Elkford. “I am Brealle sir, I tend these gardens.” She looked down not wanting to make eye contact. Count Disdencamp waddled forward. He noticed her linen dress was partially covered by an apron made of soft tan leather. The leather was the same shade as her skin. She had chestnut colored hair with ginger streaks lightened by the sun. Her hands were small and calloused and dirty as were her feet. She had a very tiny frame. She glanced up at him. Her soft round face framed a small nose dotted with freckles. Her hazel eyes met his then dropped to the ground.

“Well then, what have we here? Anything that would keep an old man interested in taking another breath?” Disdencamp drew closer.

“Try this sir; it is a type of mint that also leaves a bitter yet pleasant after tone on the tongue.” She handed him a few leaves. “Yes, that is pleasant. I feel it has made my breath well! Care to smell?” Disdencamp blew towards her and in disguised disgust she recoiled and offered another. “Yes sir, very pleasant indeed. Here try these. I think you will find their affect very pleasant as well as refreshing. It provides the sense of fresh water cascading down your throat.” He tried one and in shear delight grabs a hand full and gorged himself. Brealle laughed. “Sir, I don’t know if that is advisable.”

The leaves of a plant rendered him slightly dizzy and giddy. The Count proceeded to make his way to the garden pond were he striped down to his undergarments and entered the pond. He began singing a merry tune. Brealle looked on in amusement. She had given him Aqualotus Conception. A powerful plant that when cultivated at the height of its intensity makes anyone who ingests a few leaves void of interest in passion and food, highly euphoric and only having a desire to bath constantly. It has been noted that the greater the mass of the one who eats the plant, the greater the length of effect. Count Disdencamp found comfort and folly in the garden pool. He would stay in for many days.

That concludes Chapter Four

Is it in Chapter Five that Sammygenome2, the slow witted and viciously uncongenial village idiot, tender of the Aqualotus Conception plant to which he was hopelessly addicted, sees the Count and is startled when his manliness, normally but a vestigial stub and the laughing stock of the village, swells with passion for Disdencamp, causing him to cry out in despair, "I don't know if the meds are too strong or too weak, but obviously something isn't quite right"?

Wtf?

Fixed SmileWavy

Chapter Five

The border between Elkford and Richfield were under dispute. The territory line ran along the Timbergrass River. “Sir, I beg the indulgence of council to consider an opinion. It is of interest to all that the land which lies west of Timbergrass River from the borders of Elkford and Richfield which is now currently Richfield in actually is Elkford proper.” A stirring arose from council. “Preposterous!” Shouted Count Richfield. “That land has a right boundary and has been agreed upon for decades! Is this not yet another attempt of Elkford to grab more resources? Should I stand for such behavior? I say not!” Richfield was incensed.

“If in fact the land borders were true and nothing note worthy to consider then this matter would be closed but it has come to our attention that the land which is now parceled as owned by Richfield was indeed Elkford proper and that chicanery had taken place during the great droughts of past.” Elkford explained. “It is to be considered that during that time the Richfield manor had laborers reconstruct the dry river bed at a point inland where there was in fact a bend – old lore states of a bend called Cedar Bend. Little is mentioned in archives of such a bend but in a battle record with the Tibinews, there was record of eighteen buried there. Labor toiled to channel future water through a barren valley and on through. At this time it was never considered to be of consciencquence until the rains came and re-established the river. Richfield manor knew that in the future the rains would return and as if a gift from God new boundries appear and provide much needed fertile farmland to the manor. The line was now reformed to provide Richfield thousands of more acres of useable farmland.”

The council sat stoic. Viceroy Habinshants stood, pounded the butt of his sword on the table and in a loud, commanding voice asked “Count Richfield, your manor has been accused of land-founding without due council approval, how say you?”

“I say the claim is myth at best! I beg the council to consider all at stake for Elkford manor and to consider the ploy that this is yet another brazen opportunity to gain more wealth and power. I say it is nothing short of treason!” Richfield shouted. The council broke into shouts, laughter, chair banging and in one corner snoring (that would have been Count Quackenbush. A man quick to the ale but suffered hearing loss due to a tumble off his horse.)

A crack broke through the noise. The Viceroy had once more presented the butt of his saber to the table this time cracking the oak slabs. “I demand silence!” The council became mute. “Margrave Elkford, you do realize that the land brought in question could have been petitioned for by domaine eminentae with the accusation put forth. You are within your position for military expanse. Why the serious accusation?”

“My Lord, with all personal humility possible, it is my grave source of soul to seek a just and honest path and not to pursue only which what God and King deem right. The land in question has always been Elkford proper and should and shall take its rightful place. Elkford manor lost many men in the Tibinews battles. I shall not see their blood spilt in vain or for greed of another manor.” Elkford was now standing.

“I shall not and I won’t!” He shouted. The council abruptly broke out in loud shouts. Some demanded proof, while others shouted for battle, still Count Quackenbush snored in the corner.