The Good Will Of Sir Nicholas

[Covian Intrigue]

Sir Nicholas sipped gently on his Ale mug in "The Salty Dog" tavern, Britain. Many times he had drank and merried his way through this dusty old pub. A former officer of the Britannian Army, knighted for his services to the Crown, the old soldier took a good long look around.

This was nay to be his end.
With a sigh, Sir Nicholas took out a piece of parchment, deftly putting quill to paper.[/i]

Greetings Baronship Household,
T'is I, Sir Nicholas, formerly of the Britannian Army, Palace Guards Regiment, seeking upkeep and status in the Baronship of Cove. News has reached Britain of the defection of ye Baron, and that a military presence is now in control.
Perhaps the Household may find use for my expertise, and facilitate a request for formal duties.

Perhaps if I were to visit the Baronship Household, our endeavours could be discussed.
I currently stay in the basement of the "The Salty Dog" tavern, if ye wish to send message or escort.

Yours sincerely,

[Gregor Eason]

The Commander squinted at the note. His eyes widened as he glanced over that name, "Sir Nicholas"... a name he knew all too well. Eason quickly scribbled a message, attached it to a pigeon, letting it loose through a nearby window.

Commander Eason,
Cove Militia & Baronship Council

[Covian Intrigue]

It may have been a straightforward escort operation for the Covian guardsmen (or perhaps not), but behind the scenes... an old man with a red hat was working hard to ensure the folk of the Baronship received their hard earned drink.

A few short days after sending his notice to the Baronship Household, Sir Nicholas received a reply.

With this, Sir Nicholas set off to his former Regimental Headquarters, Castle British, seeking out an old friend...

"Moving up the world, eh Major?" Sir Nicholas chuckled.
"Nicholas! Goodness! Ye startled me! T'is been a long time since we last served together." The attractive maturing woman let down her guard, a trained reflex that had her hand on her swordhilt, even in the middle of Castle British...
"Aye Rebecca, it has it has. And we shall have many hours to catch up in the pub! But I have a favour to ask..."

And at that, Sir Nicholas explained the situation to Rebecca, now Colonel Rebecca Harris. With a deft look, and a roguish smile, she gave the red hatted man the name of a barkeep in a local tavern, and bid him farewell.

On finding the barkeep, Sir Nicholas was able to negotiate information that would be relevant to the ale required for the Covians, soon discovering that the contact Colonel Harris had given him was cousins with an employee of the Yew Winery!

Sir Nicholas rushed to the British Stables.
"MY HORSE!" He bellowed.
"Sorry Sir Nic, yer 'orse ain't ready yet." A young smithy approached the red man dazily.
"Ye what?! What's wrong?!"
"Iss tha' shoes, Boss. Got ter give tha' shoes a good goin' over, yer know?"
"BAH!" Failing to hide his temper, Sir Nicholas rushed off in the direction of Yew, setting at a light jogging pace.

HOURS later he reached Yew Winery. At his age, running was suicidal, yet his years nay had the better of him; some military fitness had been spared and, taking only a few minutes to compose himself, he confidently stepped into the Winery.

After a quick nod of the head and a word with the Winery worker, Sir Nicholas had the deal set.

Later that eve..