Book I: Horizon of War — Part 3 of 3

Book 1: Horizon of War

Part 3 of 3

Note: the chapter numbering will differ from the book version.

Previous Part

Chapter 28

Noise Before Defeat

Lansius

The newly dug trenches were still fresh, the earth around them moist and sticky despite the summer heat. Several men trudged through the trenches as they prepare for the impending battle, their boots caked in red mud.

Lansius tapped his sallet, and the reassuring ring of metal echoed faintly through the air. Then he pulled down the visor to test it. The helmet narrowed his view, but he knew he would need the protection.

He looked over his surroundings, taking in his men’s dirt-stained gambesons and hollow faces. Weeks of marching and sleeping rough had already worn them down, and common sicknesses such as colds had further sapped their strength. The air hung thick with the stench of sweat and urine.

Sir Justin had taken the rowdier men to his section of the trenches, leaving Lansius to manage this group.

He lifted his visor and locked it in place. Now, he could feel the weight of their stares, their silent anger for sending them into a battle where they stood little chance of survival.

They feared they would be slaughtered like helpless livestock. Four hundred poorly equipped men stood no chance against Lord Robert’s veteran vanguard.

I better address this lest they rebel at the last minute.

“Gentlemen,” Lansius called out, his voice wavering slightly with apprehension.

Now, all of their attention was directed at Lansius, whose introverted side was screaming for him to back down, but he steeled himself. The trenches weren’t wide, so he climbed the ladder halfway up to make himself more visible.

“Most of you know that I’m a poor rider,” Lansius began, his tone light. “I can’t outrun anyone on a horse, and I’m not much faster on foot. So, if things go wrong, I’m probably not going to make it.”

A few cracked their lips at his dark humor.

“But don’t worry,” Lansius continued. “I’ve staked my life on this earthen fortress we’ve built. It’s a well-known strategy in my homeland. Great kings and generals have used it against formidable foes, whether human or fell beasts.”

The men murmured among themselves, some nodding in agreement, others staring in disbelief.

Lansius saw the men’s faces ease as he continued. “Our opponents know nothing of this strategy. That means we hold an advantage. We have weapons in plenty, and we know this ground the way ants know their burrows. So, are you with me?”

Some men answered with nods, and a growing wave of enthusiasm began to spread through the trench.

Lansius pressed on, trying harder to reach them. “Gentlemen, look around you. Are these not your fellow kin? Do you not trust them? I’ll tell you this. If you cover their backs, they’ll cover yours. And I’ll do the same. We’re in this together. So do we fight, or do we bow our heads and accept the chain around our necks?”

Suddenly, Hugo, who stood beside him, stepped forward and shouted, “I say we make those bastards pay!”

At last, the men cheered and shouted in agreement. The mood turned, and with it, they were rallied.

Lansius felt a surge of relief. Though he knew he was lying, he had no other choice. “Ten silver coins for every man who fights bravely today!” he proclaimed. “Fight with all your strength, and I swear I will reward you even further with my own hand!”

A great cheer rolled through the trenches. Money had won the soldiers’ hearts and minds. It was true enough that the promise of coin could make even the most dangerous and dreadful task easier for a man to bear.

***

Viscount’s Side

Lord Robert observed as the center column closed in on the opponent’s line, anticipating a fierce battle. However, something unexpected occurred. In response, he promptly dispatched a scout to investigate. While it seemed trivial, Lord Robert knew that morale was a finicky matter. Surprised men could flee despite having an overwhelming advantage.

While they awaited the scout’s report, their attention was drawn to the ongoing cavalry skirmish on their right flank.

Finally, the scout returned with the news. “My lord, as you suspected, the main enemy force has moved into a ditch.”

This news ignited a debate amongst the command staff, with each member offering their opinions.

“Is it really just a ditch?” Lord Robert interjected, hoping to clarify the situation.

“My lord, it appears to be deeper than a man’s height. At least two men could walk side by side. They also have crossbowmen. One even fired at me,” the scout answered.

Old Robert grew restless. He sensed that this wasn’t a mere ditch, but could it be a distraction?

“Did they purposely make it? But for an earthwork of that size, enough to cover hundreds of men would require a lot of preparation.” The senior knight who rode beside Robert offered his counsel.

Lord Robert massaged his chin and said, “You’re right. Send—”

Suddenly, the knight on the lookout cried out, “Riders ahead! Riders ahead!”

Everyone was caught off guard as dozens of riders broke through their right wing and charged toward their position. Their right-wing cavalry was in pursuit but lagged behind.

“Clever bastards!” exclaimed the senior knight. “Our knights in plates can’t catch them. My lord, with your permission,” he asked, more of a formality, and shouted to his men, “Fifty knights, on me!”

The remaining horsemen hurriedly escorted Lord Robert in the camp’s direction.

“But the main battle,” Lord Robert protested, but his men were having none of it. Protecting their lord was paramount. Nothing else mattered.

Despite this temporary setback, they remained confident in their main troops and believed that the opponent’s cavalry charge was a one-trick pony. With that threat now thwarted, they saw this retreat as merely a noise before their ultimate triumph.

...

Sir Michael

“What the hell is going on?” Sir Michael demanded answers from his staff, who were just as puzzled. They just saw the enemy launch a desperate cavalry action, but now the enemy main formation slowly disappeared into a ditch.

A senior staff rode his horse farther to get a better look, but still couldn’t find an explanation. As far as they knew, a ditch or moat was meant to impede or block movement, not to hide troops. The rank and file began to speculate on this oddity, attracting a lot of attention.

Uncertain about what to do but feeling the pressure to take action, Sir Michael ultimately ordered his crossbowmen to test the enemy.

Over a hundred crossbowmen marched onto the field, but they were without their helpers or large pavise shields. They had to rely on whatever cover they could find or some assistance from other units. The ensuing shooting exchange was brutal, but it quickly became apparent that their side was badly outmatched. The enemy had better cover inside their ditch and could fire with impunity.

The sight of their retreating crossbowmen disturbed the entire column. They had been confident with their three-to-one advantage and expected an easy battle, but now fear began to seep in.

“Marshal, it’s time to attack,” urged the staff.

“Very well.” Sir Michael took a deep breath. “Signal the men.” He knew that further delay would only worsen the troops’ morale.

Five hundred of their hardest fighters took to the field while Michael and his staff stayed behind with the remaining three hundred.

The vanguard, clad in plate armor and shields, marched forward in loose formation and soon endured a hail of crossbow attacks. Bravery was present that day. They held their formation and only charged when they were within a stone’s throw from the enemy’s ditch.

Sir Michael lost sight of the vanguard as they fearlessly descended into the ditch. Behind them, closely following, were the men-at-arms. They may have been less equipped than the vanguard, but they were equally eager for violence and recognition.

However, despite their numerical superiority, they were withered by relentless crossbow attacks. The noise of the bolts’ high-pitched sounds as they sliced through the air continued to scream at their ears.

“Where are they coming from? Why do they keep coming?” Sir Michael vented his frustration as the enemy showed no signs of being distracted, even under assault.

His senior staff tried to divert Michael’s frustration by pointing out a group of brave men who made a defensive line with shields. However, their defense was short-lived and collapsed under the enemy’s ceaseless ranged attacks.

The amount of ammunition required to maintain such a constant barrage was tremendous, and it made Michael feel queasy. Doubt began to form in his mind. Was he falling into a trap?

A scout was spotted galloping toward them, his horse kicking up dust and dirt as it approached. As he drew closer, he pulled up sharply and quickly dismounted. “Marshal,” he called, catching his breath. “There’s more than one ditch. At least two more behind the first one.”

Sir Michael winced while his staff looked at each other in shock and disbelief. They had been outmaneuvered and outwitted. The realization hit them hard, and Michael felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Only now did they understand why the ranged attack didn’t lessen at all.

As they had already committed to the attack, Michael and his staff could only watch in horror as their comrades mercilessly fell victim to the ranged attacks. The scene was both humiliating and heartbreaking. They had relatives and friends among the assault force who were now fighting for their lives. But there was nothing they could do. The assault must succeed at all costs.

Not surprisingly, the assault began to falter. Several groups had seen enough blood, broke formation, and retreated.

“Round them up,” Sir Michael ordered his staff, fearing that the retreat could turn into a rout.

Before they could do anything, a rider emerged from their right galloping toward Sir Michael. The rider pulled up abruptly after he found Michael. “Marshal,” he called breathlessly. “The enemy cavalry has broken our right wing. They’re aiming for Lord Robert’s position.”

Sir Michael instinctively pulled the reins of his horse, ready to rush to his lord’s side. However, a knight grabbed his arms and stopped the young marshal.

“Marshal, you are needed here,” the knight said sternly.

“But Lord Robert is under threat,” Sir Michael stated angrily.

The knight’s grip on Michael’s arm tightened. “You can’t leave this spot or else our entire formation will collapse!”

He tried to compromise. “I’ll leave my banner—”

“The men will still recognize you,” the knight retorted.

Sir Michael groaned but remained in his place.

“Lord Robert is a skilled fighter, and he has capable knights with him,” the older knight tried to reassure him.

The Marshal took a deep breath and surveyed the battlefield. “Then tell me, what’s our next move?”

“I believe we just need to focus on winning what’s in front of us,” the knight replied.

Sir Michael looked at his staff and made his decision. “All right, send the rest of the troops forward.”

“Marshal, I believe we’re the only group left,” his staff reported.

“Then we shall commit ourselves,” Michael said resolutely and dismounted.

Word that the viscount was retreating ran through the field, but before hope could take hold, the order for a general attack rang out.

Sir Michael and his staff joined the remaining men-at-arms and marched with their shields raised. Behind them, the levied troops followed. The latter were trained peasants with little armor and weaponry. Their inadequacy was only remedied by their sheer size. At their rear, a score of cavalry remained vigilant to cut down any man who tried to flee.

However, the Lowlandians showed their mettle today. Sir Michael and his comrades were ready to give it their all, and as they charged forward, the barrage of crossbow bolts began to thin. A path opened up to them. With great roar that echoed across the field, they fearlessly plunged toward the trenches, and the battle descended into chaos.

***

Chapter 29

The Bloody Harvest

Archibald

The thunderous sound of clashing metal and the piercing cries of combatants filled the hot summer air. Blade and lance sliced through the air, slamming helmet and armor with bone-crunching force.

Nearby a knight was thrown from his horse, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud. Blood gushed from his mangled helmet, splashing across the polished plates of his armor. While the man lay still, his riderless horse bolted wildly through the chaos.

Anci, the victor, proceeded without care. He had just bested another knight. Decked in white brigandine and bascinet helmet, he pressed his mount to pick up the pace.

The cavalry skirmish was a swift, but brutal exchange of blows, with riders passing each other in quick succession, before circling back for another round. However, Anci’s objective today wasn’t cavalry supremacy, but to capture the enemy leader.

Driven by the promise of a large bounty, his Midlandia-trained riders had bravely clashed against the opponent’s right wing. Against all odds, their fifty light cavalry prevailed and were now aiming for their opponent’s rear, where Lord Robert’s personal banner was spotted.

This turned the fighting into chaos as half of Lord Robert’s reserve scrambled to block the invader’s cavalry advances.

Anci smiled at the opponent’s reaction. He relished the opportunity for more fights. Officially, he had only agreed to join this mission because Lansius had pleaded with him to come. The former clerk, now a fake knight, had convinced him that there would be a great battle, complete with knights to capture. Lansius had said he needed Anci to co-command the cavalry.

However, even for a glory-seeker like Anci, jumping into a fight in Lowlandia wasn’t an attractive prospect. He regarded Lowlandia with a healthy dose of skepticism. Its knights were generally poor, and a fight without the potential for ransom held little interest for him.

What ultimately persuaded him to join were Lord Arte’s wish for him to make a name for himself, his own innate love of violence, and the sizable payment Lansius had offered him to safeguard the cavalry commander.

The rhythmic pounding of the horses’ hooves echoed across the open plain. Seeing his riders, Anci shouted through his visor, “FORM UP ON THE COMMANDER!”

He had spotted Audrey, the one individual he had sworn to protect.

The riders obeyed and tried to reform their formation. Anci himself urged his mount forward. The beast’s powerful muscles rippled beneath its glistening skin.

In the distance, the enemy cavalry loomed, a dark, foreboding wall blocking their path. The air was thick with tension and filled with the sound of clinking armor as the two similarly numbered sides charged toward each other.

But equal, they were not.

The Midlandians had spent their lances against Lord Robert’s right wing. Their horses were tired, and not all of them had emerged unscathed. Meanwhile, Lord Robert’s reserve was as fresh as ever, clad in their polished plate cuirasses.

The Midlandians’ side was also disorganized. They had yet to fully establish a cohesive formation. Despite all this, they fearlessly charged into the opponent’s deadly embrace. However, at the critical moment, Audrey led her fifteen riders to execute a sharp right turn.

It was so masterfully done that the enemy’s heavier cavalry failed to catch her move. As they turned to intercept her, the enemy exposed their right flank.

That was when Anci’s riders struck.

“Nyahaha!” A sickening laugh rang out as steel flashed and a massive blade tore through the air in a brutal swing. With a loud metallic clang, one knight was thrown from the saddle when Anci’s broadsword smashed into his arm and pauldron.

The iron was merely dented, but the victim’s arm was mangled, and he struggled to crawl himself to safety.

Audrey’s riders had deftly dodged the enemy and lured them into Anci’s trap.

The alpha of the pack grinned devilishly at her success. Now, his riders wreaked havoc upon the enemy’s ranks. Still hungry for more, Anci moved on to new prey, an astute rider who happened to cross his path.

The marked man, a stalwart knight by appearance, noticed Anci’s approach and reacted accordingly. Within seconds, they closed the gap between them, fate dictating that they would pass on their left side. The knight raised his lance without hesitation, preparing to strike. Meanwhile, Anci kept shouldering his broadsword confidently.

When they were but a lance’s distance apart, Anci leaped into action. He put all his weight on the left stirrup, extended his body to the side, and with a lightning-quick motion, slammed the incoming lance with his broadsword.

The lance wobbled out of the way but didn’t break, sending splinters flying between them as the knight and his steed struggled to balance themselves.

Anci’s horse swerved, nearly throwing him off balance as he came alongside his opponent. They locked eyes from their visored helmets. In jousting, this would have marked the end of the round, but Anci wasn’t finished. In that brief moment, the young squire wrested control of his sword, twisted his body to face the passing knight, and unleashed the sharp metal into the knight’s back.

A dull clang rang through the air as the tip of Anci’s sword made contact with the knight’s back plate. Though the knight’s back plate wasn’t broken, he was not entirely immune to the impact. The knight continued to ride as if unharmed, but astonishingly dropped his sword and crouched lifelessly in his saddle.

An additional dent had been etched on the tip of Anci’s sword. He had been using them hard like a blunt mace. His horse made noises as if complimenting his master’s latest win. He grinned and patted his horse while suppressing tremendous pain from his torso.

Bah, I shouldn’t twist it that much!

Groaning, Anci scanned the surroundings and found no immediate threats as the enemy was turning around wide to give chase. He counted his riders and found only twenty-seven, including himself and Audrey; the rest were either injured, dismounted, or dead.

Even Anci, an excellent rider by anyone’s standards, had been dismounted during the early battle. But as any seasoned cavalryman knew, being dismounted was far from the end. He simply whistled to call his horse and rejoined the fight.

Including the last one, Anci had bested eight riders, but not without paying the price. Part of his brigandine had been torn by a lance, and his left shoulder was swollen from the fall. His right arm was lacerated, and the coat of steel plates inside his brigandine couldn’t protect him completely from the lance’s attack. Even without penetration, he was sure he had a broken rib or two, making breathing painful.

He lamented about not purchasing a cuirass, but he had an eye on something else. A champion's secret. As Anci continued to press forward, Audrey in front began to slow down.

Anci finally caught up with her. “Change of plan?” he asked, opening his visor and slowing down to a trot.

“Anci, we’ve done it,” Audrey exclaimed.

“Huh, isn’t the goal to capture the viscount?” he muttered.

“Not necessarily," she replied. "Lans said if we forced the Lion out, then it’s already a win for us.”

“Ah, f’kin good!” Anci grinned widely. “I’m still in shape, but my horse needs rest. Then shall we?”

Audrey nodded sharply. “Yes, let’s pull back and regroup.”

Anci let out another groan as he unconsciously twisted his injured torso to reach for the saddlebag. After a few tries, he finally found what he was looking for: a brass circular object. With a gentle nudge of his foot, he coaxed his horse to turn around.

Lifting the mini buccina, Anci blew into the mouthpiece, producing a distinctive sound that he repeated twice. Instantly, every surviving cavalryman began to move in one direction.

The opposing cavalry was in pursuit but weighed down by their heavy plate armor. Their horses were exhausted and unable to keep up with Audrey’s forces, who were lighter.

Equipped only with ring mail, brigandines, and a few cuirasses, despite having less expensive warhorses, Audrey’s cavalry was able to outrun the enemy.

This had been their tactic from the start. Initially, Audrey and Anci committed their cavalry to battle, only to then switch to evasion, tiring the enemy’s heavy cavalry into a chase. Their light cavalry was controlling the tempo and maintaining the initiative.

Meanwhile, the main battle between Michael’s center column and Lansius’s ragtag army in the trenches raged on.

***

Lansius

The sound of fighting was deafening in the trenches. A messenger shouted repeatedly to get Lansius’s attention, “Sir, a message from Master Calub.”

“What did he say?” Lansius yelled back amid the fighting.

“Traps are working. We’re holding,” the skinny messenger reported.

“Do you have anything from Sir Justin?” Lansius asked as he put his weight on his right foot to keep the crossbow’s metal stirrup down while he drew the string with both hands, effectively priming the mechanism.

“There’s so much fighting. We haven’t been able to,” the messenger reported while kneeling behind Lansius.

“You hear that?” Lansius yelled at Hugo.

“I’m a bit busy here!” Hugo replied as he fended off a knight with his sword. Earlier, his poleaxe had been broken in a vicious fight.

Lansius met the messenger’s gaze. “Go to Sir Justin. Tell him we’re holding.”

“That’s all, sir?” the man asked between the swearing and the constant clang of metal ringing through the underground trench.

“Go,” Lansius said, loading a bolt and bringing the weapon up.

As the messenger darted behind the line, disappearing into the trench beyond. Lansius shouted to the men in front of him. “Left, left!”

Hugo dropped away at once,

Lansius squeezed the lever trigger. The release snapped hard through his hands. The bolt flew straight into a knight’s breastplate and burst on impact against the knight’s breastplate and sending wooden shrapnel flying.

The victim staggered and fell backward, a steel-tipped bolt protruding from his breastplate. His side rushed to evacuate their fallen comrade, while another knight squeezed to take his place. However, the narrow and confined trenches made movement difficult, particularly in heavy plate armor, and the slippery red clay ground only made it worse.

Hugo got up from his kneeling position. He had been shielding his face from being peppered by wooden shrapnel, some of which had lodged in his ring mail. He charged at the unprepared opponent alongside another squire and made a bloody result.

In contrast to the attackers, Lansius’s men had come prepared by tying coarse ropes onto their footwear, providing them with much-needed traction for work and fighting in trenches. Meanwhile, the knights in their sabatons struggled to move without slipping on the slick, clay-heavy ground.

That edge in preparation had allowed Lansius’s smaller force to hold against a larger, better-armed foe, but only just. They were left utterly exhausted, unable to press for dominance.

As the bitter and bloody struggle dragged on, everything hung by a thread. The slightest shift could tip the scale in either side’s favor.

***

Chapter 30

The Misfits

Lansius

Following the initial assault, Lansius’s men in the first trench were no longer able to use their crossbows as freely. The fighting had become a slow, brutal melee. Even so, the crossbows had already done their work well, blunting the first assault as planned.

Moreover, Lansius had placed the bulk of his crossbowmen in the second trench, where they could still loose bolts freely at any enemy coming across the surface. Those ranged attacks became Lansius’s side’s best defense against the enemy’s onslaught, keeping his men from being slaughtered from above like animals trapped in a gutter.

Lansius’s side did not hold a monopoly on crossbows. Their opponents had tried to use them as well. But they had come unprepared. Expecting the fight to be settled in close quarters, Lord Robert’s men had failed to bring enough crossbows into the trench.

Meanwhile, Lansius had amassed a large stockpile of bolts, enough to last an hour. He had also trained more than half of his men in the use and maintenance of crossbows. Bows took ages to master, but crossbows needed only two days to learn the basics and two weeks to become proficient enough for battle.

While Sir Stan had equipped the troops with spears, polearms, and a few dozen crossbows, Lansius allocated more of his war fund to acquire a hundred more crossbows, even going so far as to spend his own personal five gold pieces—equivalent to 100 silver—to secure forty additional crossbows.

Still not satisfied, Lansius borrowed thirty heavy arbalests from Toruna’s armory, along with a large supply of bolts. To further bolster their arsenal, he sold some of their surplus supplies to purchase additional ammunition.

All these preparations enabled his troops to maintain a high rate of fire against their opponents. This proved especially effective against the enemy’s transitional armor, which was primarily ring mail rather than proper plate. Lowlandia was a poor province, and despite its involvement in multiple conflicts, its men-at-arms lacked the best equipment the Imperium could offer. Its plates made from mild iron offered little protection against Midlandian steel-tipped heavy bolts.

But now, the battle had entered a new phase.

Steel clanging echoed as Hugo exchanged blows with the new opponent. At one point, the knight turned it into a sword grapple. However, Hugo was a tad faster and slipped his sword into a thrust. The steel tip dug deep into the knight’s unprotected inner right elbow, causing him to recoil in pain.

Despite not being the greatest fighter, Hugo’s agility and sure-footedness, helped by the rope trick on his feet, gave him an advantage in the close, confined space. He used that advantage to wrestle his opponent down, but another fighter intervened.

Keeping his cool, Hugo took a step back. A different knight in engraved plate armor wielding a shield and mace stepped into the gap.

Nearby, their second fighter was in trouble and was saved only by Hugo’s timely intervention.

This unnerved Lansius. The opponent was getting better at this game.

Despite some initial setbacks, the Lion’s knights and men-at-arms had slowly adapted and regained their edge. There was no more hurried attack or halfhearted assault, only cold precision and a steady push.

Exhausted, Hugo signaled for a replacement. Lansius and his crossbowman seized the opportunity to fire at the enemy. However, the knights were prepared and readily shielded their upper bodies, making the bolts thud harmlessly upon impact.

Another pair of fighters bolted to the front. Meanwhile, Lansius reloaded his crossbow and realized he could hear heavy breathing coming from the enemy’s direction.

The hot and humid conditions underground made it difficult for anyone in full-face helmets to breathe through their small vents. As a result, many of Lansius’s opponents had their visors open, despite the risk of getting hit by stray bolts or deadly shrapnel.

As it dawned on him, Lansius suddenly shouted to his men. “Keep it up! Once we stop the vanguard, the rest will fall.”

Upon hearing his words, the new pair of fighters charged forward with their poleaxes.

Most of Lansius’s men behind them gave no verbal reply. They had borne the brunt of the assault and were spent, but there was still determination in their eyes.

However, determination alone was not enough to win the fight. After repeated bouts of hard fighting, the new pair struggled despite their best efforts and continued to lose ground against the more-skilled opponents.

Hugo, after catching his breath and taking a drink, looked to Lansius. Lansius answered with a nod, agreeing to another swap.

Despite the advantage, the opponent did not rush. They were acting like a cat playing with a mouse in their grasp. When they spotted another swap, they were already accustomed that they readily raised their shields, expecting another sneaky crossbow attack.

Watching them, Lansius deliberately withheld from firing his crossbow. Instead, he aimed it around threateningly, buying his men a few precious moments to pull back. The trick worked, and his fighters withdrew without problems.

At that range, and with no wind to spoil the shot, both sides knew that not even plate armor made a man untouchable. But the problem remained. A crossbow wasn't doing much against a shield.

A bearded man stepped forward. He wore a sallet, carried a heater shield, and held an axe. From the look of him, he was eager for the fight.

“Careful. Don’t get cocky,” Lansius warned him.

Old Thomas snorted and quipped, “No worries. I got my beard back.”

The man could have an easy life in Midlandia, following Lord Arte and Sir Peter on their political tour, but Thomas decided to follow his guts. Out of respect, Lansius had put him in reserve, but the man yearned to fight.

Thomas and Roger, a younger man paired with him, approached the enemy line calmly. The mace-wielding knight suddenly lunged at Thomas. Thomas dodged the mace blow and countered with a ferocious swing of his axe.

With a trained movement, the knight caught the blow on his shield and felt the shock run through his arm and shoulder. Thomas kept hacking at him, but a sudden shield bash caught him by surprise.

Still reeling, Thomas saw the mace coming. He raised his shield to block, gritted his teeth through the impact, then dropped low and lunged at the knight. The distance was so short that the knight failed to react in time.

Though he tried to step back, the knight lost his footing. His sabatons were caked in clay, and he slipped just as Thomas pressed in with a furious flurry of cuts and blows. Thomas drove him down and was ready to finish him, but a halberd thrust in from the front.

The axeman let his prey go and gave ground at once. Two knights quickly moved to help their fallen comrade. One dragged the man back while the other kept his halberd leveled.

“Thomas!” Lansius signaled from behind.

Old Thomas barely ducked as two bolts screeched through the air and struck the men trying to drag their comrade away. One took a hit in the thigh and groaned in pain. The other fell unconscious when the bolt slammed into his helmet hard enough to dent the metal in.

“On me!” Thomas yelled as he charged into the enemy’s confused line, while Roger did his best to keep the other knight from intervening.

Hugo sprang in as well, joining the fray while Lansius frantically reloaded his crossbow, hoping this might be the break they had been waiting for.

Thomas, Hugo, and Roger led the men into a brutal fight. They fought hard, and their courage was beyond question, but even with the golden opportunity before them, they were up against the best of Lord Robert’s men-at-arms. The knights absorbed the blows and re-formed their line.

In the confined space between the two red-dirt walls, there was no room for flanking. Lansius’s men finally lost their momentum. They managed to take two men for ransom and wound several others, but they failed to force the breakthrough they desperately needed.

Then the fighting paused, both sides taking a moment to breathe.

Suddenly, the crossbowman beside Lansius shouted, seeing what he thought was his chance. “Get down!”

Already expecting the shot, the men in front ducked. The bolt flew true but missed the knight’s helmet by a hair. Lansius loosed his own bolt as well, but it glanced off the other knight’s pauldron and buried itself harmlessly in the earthen wall.

The moment their volley was spent, the enemy charged. They had never done that before.

Lansius gasped. Fuck! They were waiting for this.

“Fall back!” Hugo screamed, as if reading his mind. Thomas and Roger quickly moved as a rear guard, doing their best to defend against the charging knights.

...

Lansius’s men retreated, more panicked than orderly. In the chaos, one of the men in front screamed. Lansius stopped and saw Roger with a spear piercing his shoulder. Blood gushed through his gambeson.

Without hesitation, Lansius tossed his crossbow to his assistant and dashed back. He grabbed the wounded man by the cloth and cried, “Lend me a hand!”

But in the chaos, no one answered.

Undeterred, Lansius dragged the wounded man alone as fast as he could. Nearby, Hugo and Thomas were close to their limit, trying their best to fend off multiple attacks at once. Their opponents, clad in plate, charged without fear like raging bulls.

As he kept dragging Roger, a spear slipped past and nearly impaled him. It made Lansius lose his footing and fall into the red mud. Only then did a woman in ring mail rush in from behind, push past them, and raise her shield to cover them.

“Carla, don’t get reckless,” her friend warned her from behind.

“Mind your business! If they fall, then we’re also going to die,” Carla said defiantly.

“That’s more like it,” Lansius commended while redoubling the effort to drag Roger. There was not enough space for two, but a few hands reached out to them to help.

Carla eventually took the front after Thomas got hit on the side of his helmet. With fresher strength joining the front, they managed to evacuate.

Suddenly the width along the trenches got wider. They reached the place Lansius had named the gatehouse. It was not only broader, but also set apart by a wooden fence with a working gate.

Once they were through the fence, Lansius, Hugo, and the others simply collapsed to the ground. The red, sticky soil was the least of their worries.

A few men who were in charge of the gate, less experienced but protected behind the fence, readily brandished their spears and fired their crossbows against the incoming knights and men-at-arms.

After a short skirmish that felled several of their members, the Lowlandians lost their momentum and retreated, seemingly into the far end of the trenches.

Sweating hard, Lansius slumped with his back against the reddened wall. Hugo and Thomas were beside him. Though this section of the trench was wider than the rest, it was still only broad enough for four people to walk abreast.

Fresher men pushed past them to reinforce the gate. Yet, the fighting around them had quieted, enough that Lansius could hear crossbow bolts cutting through the air overhead.

“Fighting still rages top side,” Hugo said, after noticing Lansius looking up.

Lansius nodded wearily. It meant the enemy still had more men coming. Even so, that much had been expected.

He looked around at his own men, who had fought hard to stay alive, and breathed a sigh of relief. His biggest gamble had paid off.

From the beginning, Lansius’s problem had not only been the enemy, but also his own men’s willingness to fight. Truthfully, they were little more than misfits, poorly recruited and motivated mostly by the promise of raiding and loot.

Worsening the matter, Lansius had no reputation. Despite all his fair treatment, no Midlandians would trust him with their lives. Thus, he had deceived them. He had led them to a place where they couldn’t possibly run, so their only option was to fight for their lives. That, in essence, was the purpose of this trench strategy.

Lansius had gambled that even without divine right, belief, or ideology, men would still fight to survive. Once again, he had proven the assumption correct. His men were exhausted, bruised, and battered, yet still willing to fight. And the Arvenians veterans amongst them had gladly shown them how.

Ever more experienced, Hugo began reorganizing his men. In a short time, a fresh group of thirty men sallied out. Their rallying cries pumped everyone’s morale as they passed through the gateway.

“Tough lads,” Hugo commented as he noticed Lansius watching them go.

Lansius gave a nod. “Any word from the other sectors?”

Hugo glanced around, then called out, “Oi, messenger.”

One of them looked up at once and hurried over.

“What word from Sir Justin and Master Calub?” Hugo asked.

“Sir Justin and his men have taken a dozen prisoners. Several of ours fell, but they’ve been gaining ground steadily. As for Master Calub, his traps held. The enemy’s been kept in check.”

Hugo turned to Lansius, who nodded, satisfied.

Anything other than getting wiped up is good news.

While the battle raged on, they could afford some quick treatment. A barber who followed them was their designated healer, as was the norm for this era.

The barber cleaned Hugo’s small wounds with wine and wrapped them with a clean linen cloth. Meanwhile, Thomas had a cut on his cheek and had lost a lump of hair from a narrow slash. Part of his beard was reddened with blood.

Lansius took a deep breath. The realization that these men bled for him was overwhelming.

Suddenly, the wooden fence came alive again. The second group was being pushed back, and the knights were hot on their tails.

Old Thomas put his sallet back while Hugo took a crude-looking halberd from one of his men. Lansius, too, rose up, ready for the finale.

***

Chapter 31

Young Man’s Game

The air was thick with the sound of thunderous footsteps and rallying cries as Lord Robert’s men-at-arms charged toward the wooden fence. Though their stamina was failing and the enemy’s tactics unpredictable, their pride burned fiercely.

In the confined space, they hurled themselves against the sturdy gates with all their might, using their weight in place of a battering ram.

But the defenders were well-prepared. Armed with polearms and crossbows, they pushed back the attackers and made them pay a tremendous price.

Despite the sacrifices of eleven of their bravest, the two-meter-tall wooden fence remained seemingly impregnable. Bloodied by a persistent stream of crossbow bolts, they could only drag the wounded along with their retreat.

Deep in the trenches, they licked their wounds and prepared for the inevitable.

***

Lansius

The wooden gate groaned as it swung open. Many of its posts were bent or pushed from their spots. The chipped and splintered wooden fence stood as a testament to the relentless assault of their opponents.

Lansius emerged from the gate in his battered gray brigandine, accompanied by his men who surveyed the scars of battle with him. “Hugo,” he called out with a weary yet resolute voice.

Hugo rested his crude halberd and replied, “Yes, boss?”

“Pick your best men,” Lansius commanded.

With a sigh of relief, Hugo turned to his men and rallied them. “Come on lads, for the finale!”

With Lansius and Thomas behind, Hugo led a contingent of his best men into battle. They quickly located Lord Robert’s exhausted troops and offered battle. An intense melee ensued, but it soon became clear that the opponent’s men-at-arms were on their last leg.

The once fearsome troops were reduced to a sorry lot. Their best fighters lay wounded or dead on the ground, leaving only the inexperienced ones to carry on. Their breathing was ragged, and their movements sluggish as the stifling heat and humidity drained them of their last bit of strength.

Trapped in the trench, with Lansius’s crossbowmen positioned to cut their escape, Lord Robert’s side had no choice but to surrender.

The deputy commander knelt before Lansius, casting aside his helmet adorned with a great plume. He offered his sword as a token of surrender. It should have been the marshal doing this, but word had it that he had lost an eye to shrapnel.

“I accept your surrender and guarantee the safety of your men who lay down their arms.” Lansius reiterated the words whispered by Sir Justin, who had just arrived from his front.

His men clamored as Lansius finished the words. They shouted victory in loud emotional voices and threw their fists in the air. Many of them looked at Lansius intensely and made him uncomfortable.

“VICTORY!” The word was repeated and echoed, spreading through the trenches like wildfire.

Eventually, the fighting ceased in all the trenches. The defeated had accepted their fate and surrendered their weapons.

Sir Justin conversed with the deputy commander, while Hugo, Thomas, and their men ensured security. Guarding numerous hostages wasn’t easy, but they were like assets waiting to be cashed in.

Lansius stood with Carla, his temporary adjutant, away from the limelight. Suddenly, the sound of hooves followed by a large shadow loomed over them. Carla instinctively drew her sword and readied her shield, but soon recognized the figure of a cavalrywoman on the ground level.

She must’ve trotted along the trenches until she found me.

Lansius pulled his sallet off.

“So you survived?” Audrey asked as she opened her visor.

“You seem to be displeased?” Lansius retorted.

That made Audrey laugh so hard that her visor fell in a comedic manner, causing Lansius and his men to burst into laughter as well.

Before the laughter subsided, Lansius ordered Carla to fetch back the ladder. They carefully flew their banner first to avoid getting shot by the other trenches by mistake. Audrey was already present, so there was a low risk, but Lansius insisted just to be safe.

Lansius climbed up after Carla and took in the sight of the battlefield, littered with casualties. Across the grassy plains, many were groaning in pain. Some writhed, while a few calmly waited for the slow coming of death. The aftermath was always a sad scene.

In the distance, the enemy’s retreat had turned into a rout. The decisive factor had been the great show of force by Audrey’s cavalry, they had made by forming a wide line, even though in truth, they only numbered twenty-seven riders. However, to the remaining enemy, their presence was evidently too much to bear.

On the other hand, Robert’s cavalry had left the field, unwilling to risk themselves by going near the trenches.

Lansius expected the rout, given the isolation of the enemy commanders and vanguard. The remaining levied men and armed villagers had little motivation, and the few knights and remaining men-at-arms had no choice but to retreat. Now, they no longer flew their banners.

“Get me Sir Justin,” Lansius said to Carla.

It didn’t take long before Sir Justin emerged from the trenches. “Commander, what do you need? A party?”

Lansius chuckled. “That can wait. Sir Justin, I see all those beautiful horses and knights. What do you think we should do?”

Sir Justin laughed and shouted down to his men, “Time for a ransom hunt!”

The knight’s words were greeted with fierce jubilation from his men. Quickly, they made their way to the back trench, where they had hidden their horses.

Lansius saw Anci approaching. He looked mauled, but still alive and kicking as usual. “Anci, go nuts,” he said to encourage him.

“Haha, easy,” Anci replied. “Come, Hugo, don’t be a slowpoke,” he taunted Hugo, who had just climbed up.

“Fook you and your blasted horse,” Hugo cursed, drawing laughter from the troops. They knew Anci and Hugo had grown up together as squires to the same knight.

Then something occurred to Lansius. “Audrey, let them surrender and arrange for talks if you could.”

With her visor returned to its place, Audrey threw a hard glance at Lansius before nodding once and spurring her horse forward.

***

Viscount Robert

In the aftermath of the rout, the enemy’s smaller, yet fiercely motivated riders pursued Robert’s fleeing troops, scattering his other units from the battlefield. The only remnants of Robert’s forces were those who had sought refuge within their camp.

They attempted to barricade the camp, but they lacked sturdy walls for protection, and many had abandoned their posts, taking their mules or carts with them. In this dire situation, Robert’s loyalists urged him to flee. However, he knew his slow-moving baggage train would be easy prey for the enemy. When that happened, it would be a lost cause.

Right now, he still had the numbers to force the enemy into the negotiation table. However, Robert suspected the enemy held numerous hostages, enough to make his own nobles turn against him. Many of these captives were sons, uncles, or husbands of influential families.

Even if Robert managed to escape and secure himself within his castle, he would face internal conspiracies. The families of the hostages would be driven to overthrow Robert’s rule to ensure the safe return of their captive kin.

This precarious situation meant that a large number of Robert’s still numerous men and cavalry were reluctant to fight, fearful that their actions might endanger their relatives.

The enemy had triumphed, a fact Robert was forced to acknowledge. Believing that bravery was not only demonstrated in victory but also in defeat, he sat beneath his tent, patiently awaiting a negotiation while his men valiantly organized a final stand.

However, a group of riders acting as messengers arrived, bearing an offer of negotiation from their leader. Robert welcomed the opportunity for dialogue, and a truce was swiftly declared. The hostilities halted on both sides.

As both armies tended to their wounded and collected their fallen, a large ivory tent was erected between them, a symbol of forthcoming discussions.

...

As the victor’s cavalry patrolled the vicinity and stood guard at the site, the Lion of Lowlandia made his appearance, exuding an air of calm dignity. A small retinue of knights accompanied him as a protective entourage.

Despite the sweltering heat and his evident fatigue, Robert remained clad in his armor, resolute in leveraging every potential advantage in the forthcoming negotiations.

His adversaries welcomed him readily, though ironically the ivory tent was his own, one of many things he would lose in the aftermath of this conflict. Yet even in the face of defeat, Robert maintained a straight-backed posture, wearing an expression that suggested he was relishing every moment.

However, Robert mostly maintained his silence, allowing a trusted aide to handle the negotiations. To his surprise, his counterpart mirrored his approach.

There was no gloating in the adversary’s leader’s face. The man named Lansius sat quietly in his seat, observing the proceedings without interjecting. Both leaders exchanged several glances but refrained from direct conversation.

The first topic of discussion was the status of the hostages. A knight was dispatched to verify their condition and reported back that they were safe, kept in separate pits throughout the trenches as a precaution. The knight also confirmed that Marshal Michael had survived, though likely at the cost of an eye.

Robert drew a deep breath and nodded to his knight, his silence conveying his relief.

The second issue raised was the fate of Robert’s baggage train. Given their distance from the nearest settlement, supplies would be precarious. Fortunately, while the victors insisted on confiscating all wealth, they were reasonable enough to leave almost half of Robert’s food supplies intact.

This was more than sufficient for their march back home, and Robert was appeased. With the two main subjects addressed, Robert turned his attention to the opposing leader. To Robert, this Lansius was an intriguing figure. Not because of his black hair that marked him as a foreigner, but due to his lack of the pride or entitlement typically flaunted by the nobility.

The discussion soon hit a deadlock when the subject of land rights was broached.

“I beg your pardon, but your side lacks a valid casus belli against my lord’s domain. While we acknowledge your military superiority, you cannot lay claim to White Lake without risking intervention from the Imperium,” Robert’s representative argued with conviction.

Sir Justin scoffed at this. “Stop this nonsense. It’s common knowledge that the lords of Lowlandia have been competing and seizing lands not rightfully theirs for generations. The Imperium has never intervened.”

“We are not brutes! My lord only engages in battle when his rightful claims are threatened,” retorted Robert’s representative.

“Says the one who didn’t send an envoy this morning and launched an assault without even a parley,” Sir Justin shot back.

Robert’s side reeled from the statement, but chose to ignore it. “In the last conflict, Viscount Jorge pledged Korelia as payment for a joint attack on the Southern Alliance. When Lord Jorge reneged on his promise, my lord was justified in reclaiming what was rightfully his.”

The crux of the matter was that Lansius held no legitimate claim to Robert’s domain. In reality, Robert would capitulate due to his defeat, but Lansius couldn’t legally retain Robert’s domain without the appropriate justification.

If Lansius forced his way, it would be seen as taking White Lake hostage, a move that would invite all the lords of Lowlandia to attack.

Robert was curious to see how this young man would navigate this messy issue of casus belli.

***

Chapter 32

Cessation

Lansius, Leader of the Banner of the Unknown

When the question of casus belli was raised, Lansius shifted his posture for the first time, drawing the attention of those around him. “Let’s put that problem aside for now,” he suggested, his tone surprisingly pleasant and friendly. “What if this has all been a misunderstanding?”

Robert’s aide looked at him in confusion, and Robert turned to Lansius with a hint of disdain. “A misunderstanding?” he challenged.

Seated comfortably, Lansius simply nodded. “I want you to continue ruling White Lake as you always have.”

Surprise flickered briefly across Robert’s face before he countered, “That must be a jest! I’m a defeated noble. Why would you make such an absurd statement?” His response was roundabout, seemingly designed to provoke Lansius into revealing his true intentions.

“My lord, I assure you I’m not jesting. I am extending an offer for cooperation between us,” Lansius replied resolutely, deliberately addressing Robert as his lord in an attempt to placate him.

“There’s no cooperation between the victor and the defeated. The relationship is between the conqueror and the subjugated. Why resort to pleasantries?” Robert retorted.

“I never intended to conquer you, Lord Robert,” Lansius responded with patience. In truth, he had nothing to offer that would impress Robert, but his ambitions lay elsewhere, and he might still have a chance to achieve them without relinquishing too much of his spoils.

Taking a deep breath, Robert asked, “Then how do you explain today’s battle?”

Lansius paused before answering, “Let’s consider it a mock battle.”

“A mock battle? For what purpose?”

“To bring about change,” Lansius declared enigmatically. “The realm south of Midlandia has been stagnant for far too long. I wish to change that.”

...

Viscount Robert

Robert was momentarily stunned by Lansius’s declaration.

Does he intend to unite Lowlandia?

The feuds among the Lowlandian nobles were older than the third Imperium itself. The ambition persisted, but nobody openly expressed it among peers.

Yet, Robert found it hard to dismiss Lansius’s statement, given the astounding victory his ragtag group had achieved over Robert’s larger, seasoned force. Many of his men were veterans Robert had personally recruited, trained, and led for more than two decades.

A blind bravado had been his undoing, but Robert felt the need to credit Lansius for creating a near-miracle victory. That made him ponder what he could accomplish with someone like Lansius serving as his marshal. Perhaps even the unification of Lowlandia was within reach, he mused.

However, he quickly dismissed that notion and instead asked, “Please indulge me? What exactly is your plan?”

“I wish Lord Robert to continue his rule, with a few beneficial changes for both of us,” Lansius clarified.

Suppressing a mix of skepticism and hope, Robert nodded. “Please, continue.”

“I propose military protection in exchange for a strategic castle as a base, and a portion of your income. The funds would be used to purchase food and other supplies from your domain, allowing wealth to circulate locally and preventing you from becoming any poorer than before.”

Lansius’s rough use of the language suggested a lack of noble upbringing, yet his innovative ideas were intriguing.

“So, a mercenary company?” Robert ventured.

“Not quite. A mercenary is hired to fight someone else’s war. That’s not my intent,” Lansius clarified.

“And what about rebuilding my forces? Would you permit it?” Robert asked, half in jest.

“Certainly, we are not your conquerors. You may do as you please.”

Robert’s gaze narrowed. “You’re not afraid I might betray you?”

“There’s always a risk. But I believe in time, you’ll see the larger picture and choose to ally with us,” Lansius stated firmly.

Robert stroked his small goatee. Despite the absurdity, he found himself warming up to Lansius. He wasn’t as polished as many noblemen, but his voice held a note of genuine empathy. Moreover, his demeanor was devoid of ill will and even suggested humility.

His instincts told him to trust this young man. The decision wasn’t difficult. As a defeated noble, his options were limited: capitulate and be sent somewhere remote as a hostage, or take a long journey to the old capital in Centuria, besieged by wars with the western nomads.

Accepting Lansius’s plan offered a way to retain his position, albeit with reduced power and wealth. It was an enticing proposal.

“Before the battle, I heard reports from the villages your men visited,” Robert reminisced about the scout’s remarks several days prior. “I fully expected to hear about damage or looting, but to my surprise, there were none. Instead, the village chiefs reported your men purchasing food at fair prices. Why?”

Lansius smiled, seemingly flustered. “I may not look the part, but I’m not a robber.”

The old viscount chuckled for the first time as a hunch dawned on him.

He purchased those goods to garner public support. He knew he would likely triumph in battle. How audacious!

Robert was amused, for in a war such a strategy seemed impractical and offered little gain. Yet he admired a war leader who refrained from looting the poor. “Perhaps you’re on to something,” Robert muttered as he considered the offer. “Would you also permit me to run my court?”

“That’s my intention. Let’s make this into cooperation. I’ll handle military affairs, and my lord shall take care of politics. This way there’s no need for a casus belli.”

Robert glanced at his aide, who nodded in agreement. Even they found the proposition appealing.

However, propelled by curiosity, Robert asked further, “Why all the complications? Wouldn’t it be more straightforward for you to rule the region yourself?”

“No, that would invite too many problems. I don’t want to get entangled in court politics,” Lansius declared, his true intentions remaining a mystery.

***

Lansius

The victor and the vanquished set off toward Robert’s domain to orchestrate the transfer of power. Their pace was slow yet steady, their ranks weighed down by the wounded. The baggage train was also heavy with the confiscated armor and weapons from the defeated. They also had prisoners to consider and ransoms to secure, necessitating careful progress to avoid unnecessary risks.

Sir Justin led the troops while Calub tended to the wounded. In this era, medical care was scarce. The best they could do was to dispatch the gravely wounded to the nearest village for basic care.

Lansius wished for more comprehensive care for them, but Robert refused it as the situation hadn’t yet stabilized. The threat of conflict still loomed, as Robert’s allies might attempt to intervene.

Ironically, they remained on a war footing until they could safely escort Robert to his castle to exercise his authority. This was the very reason Lansius had set up camp deep within Robert’s domain, effectively holding him and his commanders hostage.

Nevertheless, the transfer of power eventually occurred without a hitch. Only then, Lansius sent word to his benefactor, explaining his victory and his reasons to ask for Korelia as a base of power in the region.

In the letter, Lansius expressed his wish for Lord Bengrieve to send him a replacement commander and contingent, so he could return to Midlandia. However, when Lord Bengrieve replied, Lansius was surprised at his benefactor’s reaction.

...

Following Viscount Robert’s disastrous defeat, the Lion of Lowlandia carefully ceded Korelia to the victor, an unusual arrangement that led many to assume a secret agreement had been made.

Regardless of the truth, Korelia was no longer under Lord Robert’s control. Although a small fief with limited resources, Korelia held strategic importance as a middle ground between the western and eastern parts of Lowlandia.

The town could serve as a gateway to unify the province under one’s rule, but its lack of arable land posed a problem for supporting a larger population.

Beyond the small castle town, there were only several villages spread to its eastern side. With little arable land but grassland, its population was small and mostly composed of herders.

Despite being a humble fief, the transfer of Korelia disrupted the balance of power in the region. Adding to this tension was the fall of Orniteia Barony to Midlandia after a siege. Now, every neighboring lord was plotting their moves. They knew conflict was inevitable.

***

Fall of 4424, Korelia

Two Months After Lansius’s Victory

Lansius, the temporary officer of Korelia, was awed by the sight of the cloudless blue sky above him. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before, with a seemingly endless expanse of grass stretching out as far as the eye could see. It felt as if Korelia was the only human settlement in this part of the world, surrounded by the vast emptiness of a nomadic steppe.

Have I ever visited Mongolia? Lansius asked himself, but his memory offered no answer. While he could remember movies, books, or even games, he had a hard time remembering personal details of his life. He couldn’t even recall his nationality or origin, but that didn’t bother him anymore. Now, this life was all he had.

Sitting under a rectangular field tent, Lansius contentedly watched the building project he had envisioned for Korelia taking shape. The gray-colored canvas flapped in the breeze as the sun rose higher on the eastern horizon.

Several hundred men dug trenches on the west side, while another hundred worked on the southern side of the town. They were making trenches for city defenses.

He hated trenches, but there were not enough woods to construct a palisade even for just one side. To compensate for the lack of defense, Lansius had ordered his men to make picket fences and stakes using whatever wood was available.

Usually, this kind of work was frowned upon by the population. Unless they were exempted from annual tax. But, instead of the usual forced labor, Lansius was offering wages, much to people’s delight.

While Lansius believed in treating people fairly, his real intention was to prevent sabotage or dissidents. Moreover, he theorized that paid labor worked faster and was generally more reliable.

Just this week, Lansius’s view was vindicated. Aided by Lansius’s goal-oriented payment, the workers managed themselves efficiently. The defense work began to take shape right on schedule.

Another factor that contributed was the quick harvest time in Korelia. The area didn’t have much farmland, and after the festivities ended, Lansius had the full labor of the farmers at his disposal as well.

A billowing cloud of black smoke caught Lansius’s attention. It was the blacksmith Calub had invited from out of town to produce nails and bolt heads for their side project. Though the local smiths couldn’t produce swords or armor, they could handle simple repairs and maintenance.

Lansius had wanted Calub to head another project to build workshops. They wanted to employ craftsmen, artisans, and volunteers to produce crossbow parts.

As Lansius watched the project progress, a sudden horse’s neigh drew his attention. He glanced up and saw a friendly silhouette approaching.

“I see that you’re well enough to go outside today.” A hint of a smile was on Audrey’s lips as she approached closer and covered him with a fur coat.

“Ah, thanks.” Lansius felt the warmth and found it pleasant.

Audrey noticed how windy it was. “Mm, perhaps you shouldn’t be out here for too long.”

“Do I look that pale?” he asked.

“Well, prevention is always wise,” Audrey remarked smugly.

“You sound like Calub,” he chuckled. “Lemme check your forehead for a fever.”

His jest was shot down by a cold stare. “Not funny. You’ve been bedridden on and off for almost three weeks. Everybody is terrified.”

Lansius’s chuckle died down quickly. “I know. I’m sorry to make you worry.”

Audrey kept staring, and Lansius could only look down.

She let out a soft sigh before tenderly patting Lansius’s shoulder. He caught her hand with his own, savoring the warmth of her touch.

After a moment of comfortable silence, she asked, “I heard about the letters.”

Lansius exhaled deeply, awash in a mix of emotions. His recent victory had set off a chain of unexpected events, many completely beyond his control. And nothing could have prepared him for the response from Midlandia.

The triumph he had fought so hard to achieve now seemed to be pulling him further from his desires and closer to the chaos of war. On the other hand, it had also opened the door to great opportunities.

***

Chapter 33

Lord of Korelia

A gentle autumn breeze brushed against the gray canvas of the field tent, causing the edges to flap lazily in the morning sun. Standing at Lansius’s side, Audrey looked stylish in her tailored black dress. It was barely a few months old, a gift from Lord Bengrieve, their benefactor. Contrasting that, a worn belt adorned her slim waist, the same one that she had worn when they first met last year.

Lansius thought the black dye used for that dress was worth a fortune. He still couldn’t fathom why they treated Audrey so well. A tingle of suspicion was always on the back of his head. “Who told you I received letters? Calub?”

“I doubt anyone will miss fifteen mounted armed guards escorting two carriages,” Audrey replied as she continued to massage Lansius’s shoulder.

Lansius licked his lips and felt that he might be overreacting. Messengers from high-ranking nobles usually came with armed men for protection, which easily attracted unwanted attention. “I got two letters. One from Lord Bengrieve and another from Sir Stan.”

“What did they say?” Audrey asked.

“Sir Stan, your adopted brother, is praising us for our surprising victory. He also sent sizeable gifts to commemorate it.”

“I’ve noticed the fully loaded carriages. How about Lord Bengrieve’s letter?”

“That’s the tricky one.”

“I doubt it’s that bad,” Audrey said as she kneaded his shoulder.

“Well, he . . . congratulated me for a brilliant victory.”

“That’s a good start.”

“But he rejected my pleas to send one of his captains along with fresh troops to take over Korelia.” Lansius exhaled deeply.

“That means we’re not going back then,” Audrey said, surprisingly calm.

“You don’t look unhappy?” Lansius asked.

“Why should I? Better to reign on the farm than serve in a castle,” she said eloquently.

Lansius tried hard not to grin at the wise words. Her education in Toruna was showing its fruit.

“Is that all he said?” Audrey asked.

“He thinks I’m foolish for believing that Midlandia would want to endeavor into another Lowlandia territory. I guess the last thing they want is to open an even wider front . . . He also calculated that it’ll be hard to achieve peace, with all the neighbors at each other’s throats, thus requiring great manpower just to keep the peace. And all that for a province with nothing but a sea of grassland.”

“Go on,” Audrey encouraged. She sensed that the more Lansius spoke, the more at ease he became.

“Umm . . . since we won the battle and were able to make an interesting deal with Lord Robert, he instructed me to . . . rule and survive.”

Audrey’s fingers froze. “Rule?”

Lansius met her gaze. “He offered me this land if I could survive.”

She took a step back. “Lans, that means lordship. Korelia is a barony.”

Lansius tried to downplay the issue. “The title may sound grand, but while the land area is huge, Korelia’s worth a mere fraction of Sir Stan’s Toruna. It’s all bark and no bite.”

“Did he really offer you that?” she asked in disbelief.

He looked up briefly, gathering his thoughts before revealing, “Attached to the letter is a vellum bearing the seal of the Lord of Midlandia. It’s a duplicate of a recommendation letter for patent to the High Court.”

Audrey gasped and covered her mouth.

Clutching his fur coat tighter, Lansius added, “I don’t know what Bengrieve’s scheme is, but that’s what he’s offering.”

Barely recovered from her surprise, Audrey tapped Lansius’s shoulder. “You realize it’s still a grand offer?”

“A grand prize for a grand risk,” Lansius quipped. “Lowlandia’s feuds run deep. Everybody has a claim to another’s land. Soon, they’ll be knocking on our door with a siege engine.”

Audrey was still at a loss for words, so Lansius continued. “That Bengrieve is dangling a prize in front of his pet and waiting to see whether I’ll bite or not.”

Dangling a morsel in front of a mongrel was a known proverb in Midlandia. It meant that it was likely a ruse, because the master would always eat it and leave only scraps for the pet. Still, Audrey sensed something was amiss. “Lord Bengrieve is taunting you.”

Lansius caught her eyes. “Even if he isn’t, my hands are too small for a prize like this. It’s unthinkable to defend Korelia against a siege without reinforcement from Midlandia.”

“I say we risk it,” Audrey declared.

Lansius chuckled but went quiet after sensing her serious gaze.

“You’re making ditches and fences, also inviting blacksmiths, carpenters, fletchers. Don’t tell me you didn’t come prepared,” she pointed out.

A hint of a smile was on Lansius’s lips. Noticing that, Audrey leaned closer and whispered, “I know your ambition too well, my lord.”

Lansius blushed at her words and tried to refute them. “You know well that I just want a peaceful place to live,” he said.

Audrey played along with his game. “You still thinking about returning to village life?”

“I have to say that I still fancy the idea,” Lansius admitted. “No politics, no responsibility, no guilt.” To live as a hunter in a distant village like Torrea was Lansius’s go-to escapist imagination.

But Audrey didn’t share his enthusiasm. “I only see hardships,” she remarked grimly. “Hunting weekly, butchering game, stitching my own torn cloth. Stuck in rainy seasons and only visiting town a few times a year for supplies.”

Lansius chuckled at her answer.

Undeterred, Audrey continued. “I’d rather live in a big city with a servant who does groceries. But then, I prefer to eat out when the weather’s nice. Also, watch plays or go to the festival,” she finished with a smile. “Trust me, I’ve been there. Secluded life isn’t fun.”

Lansius couldn’t help but tease her. “And what about cooks? You often say it’s a necessity.”

“Indeed,” Audrey replied. “I need someone who can indulge me with a variety of seasonal dishes for lunch. Glazed fire pit roast for supper. And don’t forget a maid who’ll help this lady bathe and dress.”

The image of this stiff-faced cavalry captain being pampered like a princess sent Lansius into a fit of laughter. Normally, Audrey would hit him when he laughed at her expense, but this topic turned out to be an exception. Audrey looked proud of her jest, even delighted.

Despite his laughter, Lansius felt that Audrey’s dream was justified. She had gone through so much in her life: been driven out of her family, lost her knight master, and been a victim of war twice, even almost sold into slavery.

“How about marrying a baron?” Lansius teased.

“I hope not one of the small barons who till the land and shear sheep,” Audrey replied almost deadpan.

The image of himself dressed in gaudy clothing, wielding shears against a flock of sheep made Lansius laugh. “All title, no substance,” he exclaimed as if venting out frustration.

Audrey happily added, “All glitter, but not gold.”

Their shared laughter conveyed a deeper understanding between them.

Afterward, the wind picked up again, causing the canvas above them to flap noisily. Feeling the chill in the air, Audrey signaled their entourage in a separate tent to ready the horses. She then turned to Lansius with her last concern: “Was the battle that hard on you?”

Lansius tried to shrug it off, but the memories were still fresh in his mind. “The battle was gruesome,” he admitted. “But what shocked me the most was the aftermath.”

This memory triggered a wave of guilt inside him. Around forty had fallen in battle, but almost a hundred had died after from blood loss, infection, and gangrene. Despite Calub’s stockpile of alcohol, Lansius’s knowledge of sanitation, and his order not to perform bloodletting, they still lost that many.

“I seriously think that you got sick because you exerted yourself too much,” Audrey disagreed.

“Is that so?”

“You were doing so many things, taking care of the wounded, also the deal with Lord Robert.”

“Well, there are so many things to do. Our men need treatment, supplies, and housing. And I certainly couldn’t treat Lord Robert and his men badly, since I wanted them as allies.”

“See? You’re doing too much,” Audrey replied warmly. “Next time, put more faith in your subordinates. After all, it’s not your first time leading men into battle.”

Lansius felt a weight on his mind. “You know, the first time I led men into battle was against slavers, and I didn’t pity them. But the last time . . . I don’t hold any grudges against the Lion and his men.”

“Lans, we’re not fighting without a cause. The end goal is to get our home back. That’s as noble as it gets.”

Lansius disagreed with her take but realized that modern values were not always applicable in this feudal world. He reminded himself that Audrey was born and raised in this society. Still, he tried to explain his stance. “Trampling on others who are not our opponents to advance our cause isn’t exactly noble.”

Audrey almost laughed. “Nobles fight, and men die all the time for lesser causes. A little blood on our hands is tame compared to them.”

Lansius understood that Audrey was merely pointing out the reality, but he couldn’t help feeling a churn in his stomach. “I’m not heartless. Witnessing men die haunts me.”

“You’re a softie, you know,” she remarked.

“Sorry, but not sorry.”

“Hey, I didn’t mean it badly.” Audrey turned to face him. “I mean, I actually like it that way.”

Her words surprised him.

“What’s the word . . .? Ah, compassionate heart! Perhaps you’re the rare kind of noble who could rule with one,” Audrey remarked, teasing him gently.

“I take that as a compliment?”

“Rightly so, my lord,” Audrey exclaimed, bearing a rare, cute smile.

Lansius noticed a squire, a pageboy, and a cup-bearer girl coming from a smaller tent in the distance, leading the horses.

“Can’t we choose older candidates?” Lansius asked, feeling bad for employing underage children.

Audrey shook her head. “They’re the lucky ones. Their parents fought hard to put them into your entourage. And that was before Lord Bengrieve said anything about making you a baron.”

Lansius looked Audrey in the eyes. “Do me a favor, even if I’m a lord, call me by my name as usual.”

“Not possible, my lord. At least not in front of people.”

As her hair swayed in the wind, Audrey continued, “You know, the locals speak ill of the wind. They believe it carries diseases and miasma.”

Lansius nodded. Even with his fur coat, he wasn’t feeling all that well. “You’re right. Let’s head back.”

Without waiting, the two walked toward their entourage.

***

In the first month of fall, 4424, Lansius declared himself as the new Lord of Korelia, claiming the support of Midlandian nobles. This news spread quickly, and Lord Robert of White Lake confirmed the transfer of ownership and pledged his support to Lansius.

Lord Robert’s support was driven by his own predicament. As a fallen lord, he and his house faced the possibility of ruin or exile. Even if Robert had escaped to his castle, life would not have been the same. His own nobles would betray him and plan to oust him from power.

Lansius’s decision not to imprison or exile Robert and his loyalists came as a surprise to Robert, and he knew it was his house’s last chance to survive in Lowlandia politics. In their struggle, Robert and his loyalists grew to rely on Lansius’s mutual support.

This bond was further strengthened when Lansius made generous terms, allowing Robert to rule nominally as the Lord of White Lake. This was in stark contrast to the brutal takeovers often seen in Lowlandia.

Lansius’s aim was only to claim a portion of White Lake’s income instead of ruling directly. To ensure submission, he integrated a portion of Robert’s men-at-arms and stationed them in Korelia. He also incorporated neighboring estates owned by Robert’s knights to gain their service.

However, Lansius was not the only one making moves. Behind the harvest and festivities, the seeds of conflict were being planted and set in motion in the shadows.

***

Chapter 34

Unseen Hands

Korelia Castle and the surrounding town were perched atop a plateau, providing a breathtaking view of the vast steppe that stretched out in all directions. The castle towered high on the hill, while the town was nestled on one side. The people of Korelia relied on a small stream that flowed from a nearby river for their survival.

To the north of Korelia lay their only forest, a verdant expanse of towering trees that stretched as far as the eye could see. In stark contrast, the eastern side of the region was characterized by sheer cliffs and treacherous, rocky terrain that posed a challenge for even the most skilled climbers.

Despite the presence of a meandering stream, the area had little arable land for farming, and most of the townsfolk were shepherds who tended to their flocks of sheep, goats, and ducks that grazed on the sea of grass.

Located halfway between the east and west parts of Lowlandia, Korelia had the potential to become a trade hub. However, the city’s small population and the long arduous journey to the west discouraged most traders from doing business.

Despite being economically meager, Korelia was strategically significant as it served as the gateway between the east and west. Its possession meant military supremacy over the entirety of Lowlandia, and every ambitious lord sought to control it. While no house had ever united the entire province, the greed-fueled vision persisted.

The unforeseen losses suffered by Lord Robert, coupled with the unexpected emergence of Lansius as the new Lord of Korelia, shattered the precarious balance of power in the region. Almost instantly, the wheels of war turned once more, and the people of Lowlandia braced themselves for the inevitable storm that was to come.

***

Korelia Castle

Two weeks had passed since Lansius declared himself the new acting Lord of Korelia. There was no ceremony or preparation. He simply sent letters to adjacent neighbors notifying them of the change. Because of this, the Small Council chamber was abuzz with clerical and administrative tasks. Inside, two men worked tirelessly facing each other across a long mahogany table.

Hugo glanced up from his work and asked Calub, who was poring over a scroll, “What do you make of our lord’s relationship with Audrey?”

Calub raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up. “What’s prompted this sudden interest?” he asked.

“Well, I just think it might be good if they marry.” Hugo chuckled as he spoke.

“Midlandia wants Lansius to wed a nobleman’s daughter to secure his position,” Calub reminded him. “I believe Lord Robert’s daughter is the prime candidate.”

“I’m aware, but with them already allied, there’s little to gain.” Hugo gave his take and later added, “Meanwhile, the rumors are wild, I tell you.”

“Really?” Calub asked and gave full attention to Hugo.

Hugo leaned over and lowered his voice. “Well, for a young and successful man without a lover. There are all kinds of rumors, even whispers about his virility.”

Calub exhaled deeply, sounding both amused and tired. “Give the man a break. He should have a good reason.”

“Well, the guys were just curious why he remains unmarried.” Hugo defended his men passionately, but he had exhausted the topic.

The two men returned to their work, busily tackling the daily tasks of running the small town. They were responsible for feeding and clothing soldiers for the winter, managing supplies, overseeing construction projects, and more.

Most of the clerical duties understandably fell into Calub’s hand. As a member of the Merchant-Alchemist guild, Calub was highly educated and had taken on most of the clerical duties, including the role of Lord Lansius’s treasurer. Meanwhile, Hugo’s background was more of a warrior, a squire with an enviable commanding experience.

Calub finally finished cross-checking Lansius’s calculations. These were the projected incomes for Korelia.

Calub mulled over the numbers. They looked impressive, but he knew the expenses would be equally staggering, especially considering the potential siege they anticipated next year.

As the man responsible for managing Korelia’s finances and ensuring that everyone, from the men-at-arms to the servants, was paid, Calub was constantly busy. Still, he wasn’t opposed to the idea of adding more men. He knew all too well that they still didn’t have enough. In the face of impending war, they needed every defender they could get.

While Lord Lansius managed to retain most of his forces with lucrative contracts, side jobs, and year-round housing and meals, a portion of their forces had returned to Midlandia. Anci and Thomas were among a dozen cavalrymen and scores of men who had returned.

As far as Calub knew, Anci wasn’t interested in the affairs of Lowlandia. He had only been there because Lord Arte wanted him to make a name for himself and for monetary gain. Meanwhile, Thomas was motivated by more personal reasons. He wished to protect Lansius, and after seeing Lansius win the battle and command an army, he felt his presence was no longer needed. His loyalty lay with House Arte.

Both returned to Lord Arte’s side to act as escorts. The future Lord of Arvena needed to make a personal appearance in the capital to plead his case and garner support. If he managed to gather enough, then a campaign to retake Arvena would be in sight.

Meanwhile, Sir Justin had been busy setting up his new manor just east of Korelia.

It was close to midday when Calub groaned, dropping a scroll onto the table.

“Problem with the blacksmiths again?” Hugo asked.

“No, it’s bigger. The food price keeps rising,” Calub answered as he rested his back against the chair.

Hugo knitted his eyebrows. “But the harvest was just last month?”

Calub sighed. “Indeed, but the price won’t come down.”

“That’s funny . . . Do we need to buy supplies from other towns?” Hugo suggested.

“I’m afraid we can’t. The letters say it’s the same everywhere,” Calub replied.

“In all Lowlandia?” Hugo was alarmed. “This doesn’t sound right . . . Anything we can do about this?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. The merchants noticed the disturbance and kept their stock tight,” Calub said pessimistically.

Hugo’s instincts told him that something was off. “Do you suspect foul play?”

“I do,” Calub replied. “They want to limit our supply. They’re probably planning for a siege next year.”

Hugo was alarmed. “Has Lord Lansius been informed?”

Calub shook his head. “No, he’s still recovering. I don’t want to burden him with this.”

Hugo made up his mind. “I’ll talk to Audrey first. This is too urgent to ignore.”

He left the council chamber in search of Audrey, knowing that rising food prices could lead to famine and spell disaster for Korelia. The town’s people were not wealthy enough to have food surpluses, and many depended on trading their livestock for grains to survive the winter.

If grain prices were rising high, then nobody in Korelia could afford it. With their troops stationed in the town, the shortage would only worsen. Famine was a dreaded word in this world, and if it were to strike Korelia, no strategy they possessed could save them from utter destruction.

***

Lansius

After a few days, Lansius had begun to feel much better. Despite Audrey’s wish that he rest longer, he was determined to inspect the forest to the north. So today they rode out, accompanied by ten riders and the rest of his entourage. At Lansius’s insistence, no one went on foot. Audrey rode with the blond cup-bearer girl, while Sterling, the new squire, shared a horse with the pageboy.

Although many believed he was merely bored with the castle, Lansius had merely been conducting a general inspection. After an hour or two, they returned to the castle.

As Lansius’s horses slowly climbed the small hill, they soon saw the sturdy oaken gate and the weathered stone curtain walls of Korelia Castle. The castle had endured many sieges, some victories, but many more losses.

As their group approached the castle, the guardsmen stationed at the gate readily opened the heavy wooden doors with a creak. The sound echoed through the courtyard as Lansius and his entourage rode in, the clatter of their horses’s hooves filling the air.

In the distance, they could see Hugo and some of the staff waiting near the entrance of the imposing Great Hall.

They dismounted near the entrance, and the stable boy took care of the horses.

Lansius asked Hugo, “Did anything happen while we were away?”

Hugo replied, “No, my lord, it’s been quiet around the castle.”

Lansius nodded while still getting used to being called a lord.

“My lord,” Hugo said again, “may I have a word or two with Lady Audrey?”

Audrey looked at Hugo questioningly.

Lansius snorted softly and replied, “Sure, granted. Let’s not be too formal between us.”

“As you wish.” Hugo bowed his head slightly.

...

After a midday meal and some rest, Audrey informed Lansius about the rising grain prices. He froze momentarily but quickly formulated a contingency plan in his head.

He drank another cup of cooled boiled water and went straight to the Small Council chamber, where Calub and Hugo were waiting for him.

“My lord.” The two rose from their seat.

“Help is coming.” Lansius tried to liven the mood, but deep inside he was deeply troubled.

Audrey closed the door behind them as Lansius headed straight for the wooden cabinet, where he kept his scrolls and parchments. He rummaged through it for some time, but despite his efforts, he couldn’t locate the specific item he sought.

“My lord, why don’t you tell me what you need and let me search for it?” Calub said.

“It’s all right, Calub, maybe I missed it the first time,” Lansius said with a smile. He continued searching until he finally found the parchment he had been looking for.

Calub watched him intently as Lansius began to make calculations. “Not enough,” he muttered after a few moments.

Calub let out a weak sigh while Hugo looked troubled.

“Is it about the grain?” Audrey asked.

Lansius nodded, then paused. “Give me a moment. I need to think,” he said, walking to his seat and slumping down. Audrey and Calub followed suit.

I should’ve known . . . Starving an opponent is a valid tactic, and price manipulations are as old as history. This also means we’re up against a capable opponent. Nasty and morally questionable, but possibly a genius.

The looming threat of famine could undo everything they had worked hard for in Korelia. If the people and troops rebelled due to food shortages, their defenses would be rendered useless.

Sitting across the large mahogany table, Hugo coughed once before speaking up. “My lord, I can arrange to get supplies from White Lake. I reckon we could make three return trips before winter sets in.”

Lansius looked at Hugo and replied, “I believe Robert is in the same situation. After our last battle, he needs fresh supplies. Asking him for food right now will risk a revolt from his men.”

“Can’t we just purchase more food? I know it’s expensive, but we got the money, right?” Audrey’s bluntness loosened up the tension somewhat.

“Well, we could buy enough, but at this price, that would put a big hole in our treasury,” Calub remarked.

Lansius disagreed. “We can’t do that. If we suddenly buy a great sum of food, the price will rise higher. Then everybody, including our allies, will suffer.”

Lansius’s explanation caused Hugo to cross his arms and exhale deeply in frustration. “We’re really in a mess then,” he muttered.

Silence hung heavily in the room as Lansius stared blankly at the ceiling, lost in thought. Meanwhile, Calub furrowed his brow as he scanned his scrolls, hoping to find a solution.

It had only been two weeks since their proclamation, and the emerging power in Korelia had already witnessed the cruelty of the neighboring Lowlandia lords. Their gift to Lansius for his daring declaration was a famine in the face of their first winter.

***

Chapter 35

Fog of Famine

The chill of autumn crept through the small window of the Small Council chamber, causing shivers among those gathered inside. Within the nerve center of Korelia’s bureaucratic operations, the new lord and his most trusted retinue strained their minds against the looming threat of famine.

Despite their efforts, they were still struggling to devise a plan.

“Say, Korelia’s townsfolk are mostly herders, right?” Audrey brought up an interesting point. “Can’t they survive by eating the livestock?”

“A butchered lamb can feed a family for two weeks. But if you trade that lamb, you can get enough grain to last more than two months,” Calub explained from a practical standpoint.

Audrey nodded in agreement with Calub’s explanation.

Meat is many times more expensive than grain. To survive winter with just meat would be impossibly expensive.

Lansius had a sudden idea. “What’s the current price of food in Midlandia?” he asked.

Calub quickly searched through his scrolls. “It’s normal,” he replied. “In fact, the price of grain in Midlandia is currently at its lowest.”

Turning to Hugo, Lansius’s mind was already focused on the most efficient way to travel. “Can we travel directly to Midlandia?” he inquired.

“We can,” Hugo answered with a renewed spirit. “We’ll need cavalry escorts to deter outlaws, but that’s easy to arrange.”

“Hold on,” Calub interjected. “We only have ten horse-drawn carts. They’re narrow and can only hold three barrels. If we want to transport larger quantities, we’ll have to use the merchants’ wider carts.”

“Hugo, can the wider carts travel alongside ours?” Lansius asked.

“Speed and terrain may be a problem, but the ground is firm this season. I’m sure we can find someone who knows the route,” Hugo replied.

Lansius tapped the table softly, lost in thought. He realized that even with the fastest carts available, a second trip would be too risky. If winter arrived sooner than expected, they could get stranded. “That’s all right. We probably can only manage one trip,” he remarked.

Calub expressed his doubt. “Only one trip?”

Meanwhile, Hugo and Audrey exchanged surprised glances.

Calub pressed on. “Even if we managed to convince all the merchants to lend us their carts, we would only have around thirty at most.”

“Still,” Audrey chimed in, “thirty cartloads full of grain sounds like a lot to me.”

“It may be so, but the grain isn’t just for winter alone. We also need enough for next spring and summer. There’s no trade going on in spring with the roads muddy from winter and the start of the rainy season. Come summer, they’re probably already marching on us,” Calub warned.

Audrey clicked her tongue and looked at Lansius with concern. She had been the one who drove Lansius to claim Korelia instead of returning to Midlandia.

“It’s okay. War is inherently chaotic, but we can be flexible and adapt to changes.”

The chamber fell silent.

Calub massaged his forehead, having been mulling over this problem since morning. Meanwhile, Lansius gazed at the ceiling to collect his thoughts.

Thirty carts . . . With one return trip, I can probably feed the troops with rationing, but there won’t be enough for the townsfolk to get through a famine.

He could follow Hugo’s suggestion of three return trips or settle with two, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was still too risky. There was always the potential for an unforeseen variable.

We have the money, but not the transport.

Lansius took a deep breath as he found his position ironic. Medieval-era transport was crude, inefficient, and largely ineffective.

If only there were other places to buy food . . . Hang on . . . this isn’t a food shortage.

In a fit of surprise, Lansius slapped the table, attracting everyone’s attention. “Get that cup-bearer, girl.”

“You’re that thirsty?” Audrey misunderstood and went to the door.

Lansius let it slide. “Ah, yeah, tell her to bring drinks too. We could use some refreshment.”

Non-council members were forbidden to enter the chamber, so their entourage waited outside.

Calub read through Lansius’s actions, but before he could voice his suspicion, a lovely girl entered the chamber. Cecile’s hair wasn’t the usual brown, but a pale blonde.

“You asked for me, my lord,” Cecile said gracefully with a hint of fear.

It was understandable, as she had only known Lansius for two weeks, and rumors about the black-haired foreign lord who defeated the Lion were rampant among the servants.

“Relax, nobody will try to harm you,” Audrey said in a friendly tone as she snatched the embroidery-covered flask from Cecile’s hand and proceeded to pour drinks for them.

“I believe you can ride a horse?” Lansius asked Cecile as calmly as possible. He didn’t want to look brutish in front of a new employee.

“Indeed, my lord. I’m able to ride,” Cecile replied.

“Good. Go with Carla and Stirling, and please summon Sir Callahan for me,” Lansius ordered gently.

Cecile was surprised. Nonetheless, she bowed gracefully, and left the room. Her father, Sir Callahan, was the first of Lord Robert’s knights who had switched allegiance to Lansius.

Soon, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Lansius answered.

A swordswoman who had gained fame in the last battle entered the room with Stirling, the new squire.

“My lord, I’ve been told to escort the cup-bearer lady to her estate and summon Sir Callahan?”

“Indeed. Can I trust you two with this task?” Lansius asked.

“At once,” Carla answered firmly.

“Stirling,” Lansius called out before they left.

“My lord,” the good-looking lad responded.

“Audrey mentioned that you’re a skilled rider and familiar with my horse’s temperament,” Lansius said, mulling over his thoughts but not hesitating. “I want you to ride it. If you can handle it, I’ll put you in the cavalry.”

Stirling’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Yes, my lord,” he replied, bowing slightly before closing the door behind him.

One of Lansius’s constant thoughts was to strengthen his cavalry, but there was also another more personal reason.

Audrey brought Lansius his cup. “He’s a good lad.”

Lansius nodded and took a sip of pale ale.

“I heard his knight master died in the trench,” Hugo said.

“A crossbow bolt to the jugular,” Lansius answered. “Likely mine.”

Audrey leaned in closer to Lansius, her voice low and serious. “His knight master was abusive. He hated him.”

“If you want to, I could rotate Roger with him,” Hugo suggested, fearing Lansius might feel guilty whenever he saw Stirling.

“No need. He’s under my care, now,” Lansius replied, taking a sip of ale and putting aside his guilt. He rested his back on the solid wood chair and tried to focus on the matter at hand.

Now that things are in motion. I’ve got to plan for contingencies.

Sensing a lull, Calub cleared his throat, gathering everyone’s attention. “My lord, you’ve yet to explain your plan?”

“Well, we can’t purchase grain in Lowlandia, so our only option is Midlandia,” Lansius explained ever so briefly.

“Midlandia’s prices are better, but it’s a month-long journey. We also don’t know how much the merchants would ask for their carts,” Calub reminded them.

“Who says I’m going to pay for their carts?” Lansius refuted his assumption, causing confusion to run over the trio’s faces.

Ignoring them, Lansius rose and approached the window for some cool breeze.

“Then how do you suppose . . .” Hugo’s face turned serious. “My lord, do you intend to force them by arms?”

Lansius glanced at Hugo. “No, we don’t need to. Just tell them that we’re going to assemble a return journey to Midlandia. If they apply, then we’ll provide escorts for a small fee.”

“That’s all? You sure they would take it?” Hugo wasn’t convinced.

“Of course, merchants love cheap escorts. Also, there’s a big opportunity for profit in Midlandia,” Lansius explained passionately.

“I see . . . but why the fee?” Hugo asked curiously.

“Merchants are suspicious by nature.” Lansius snorted, “If they hear that something is free, then they’ll get worried about unseen risks.”

Hugo nodded slowly, impressed by Lansius’s explanation. He had never considered the merchants’ distrust, but it made sense.

Still, Calub saw a flaw in the apparent plan. “My lord, we have no control over what the merchants will load into their carts,” he pointed out.

“I realize that. They may load other goods, but I reckon mostly grain and foodstuff because profit dictates so.”

“That solves one problem. Still, even if they all buy grain, a mere thirty cartloads won’t be enough. And there’s no guarantee they’ll sell it cheaply when they return.” Calub’s words alarmed the room.

Hugo and Audrey stared at Lansius, who gestured for them to calm down.

“It’s true that thirty carts won’t be enough. After all, there are six thousand people in Korelia. It also true that it won’t be enough to push the grain price back to normal.”

Calub nodded and asked, “Then, my lord, why are you smiling?”

“Eh?” Lansius licked his lips, trying to hide it from the rest.

“You have a plan?” Hugo was surprised.

“Lans!” Audrey vehemently protested. Like hungry wolves, they pressed him for an answer.

“All right, I might have a solution, but it’s a gamble and a risky one at that,” Lansius finally conceded, revealing his plan. “First, we buy salt. Nothing but salt.”

Everyone was taken aback. Before anyone could question him, Lansius motioned for silence and continued. “The issue with Korelia isn’t grain; it’s currency.”

Calub instantly understood, having worked with the scrolls. “My lord, are you serious? You intend to pay people in salt?”

“Why salt?” Hugo inquired, looking puzzled, but was ignored.

Lansius let out a sharp exhale. “That’s why I said it’s a gamble.”

Hugo cleared his throat. “I still don’t understand, but how do you plan to pay for it? Even a cart is worth tens of gold coins.”

Lansius licked his lips and murmured, “The Seneschal of Midlandia, our supreme benefactor, Lord Bengrieve.”

Hugo groaned, while Audrey scoffed.

“My lord, please don’t say you’re taking a loan from him,” Calub objected.

Lansius nodded resolutely. “It’s better than facing a famine.”

Their relationship with Lord Bengrieve had become strained after their recent victory. Furthermore, the seneschal was a formidable figure in his own right. They owed him a great deal, and he held all their dirty secrets. Even Lord Arte and Lansius’s family were at his mercy.

Calub sighed, realizing they had no other choice. He helped Lansius write two letters. Once finished, he dripped purple wax onto each, and Lansius used his newly minted silver signet ring to seal them.

“Do you think this will work?” Lansius asked Calub afterward.

Calub patted Lansius on the shoulder and replied, “It had better, or else . . .” He shook his head, leaving the consequences unspoken.

***

Chapter 36

Lion Tamer

The following morning, Lansius met with Sir Callahan at the castle. After a brief conversation, he shared the details of the plan and handed Sir Callahan letters to be opened in the presence of Seneschal Bengrieve of Midlandia.

Sir Callahan, Cecile’s father, was chosen for his charisma and intelligence, qualities that enabled him to effectively connect with both nobles and merchants. His blond hair bore evidence of his northern aristocratic lineage. With this background and gifts from Lansius, Callahan was expected to help smooth relations between Korelia and Midlandia.

Lansius also entrusted Sir Callahan with five keys to chests filled with gold, silver, and jewelry from their recent victory. Although there were five chests, they were intentionally filled to less than half capacity to mitigate the risk of an attack on the convoy or betrayal by one of their own.

Callahan was considered trustworthy enough to handle the vast sum of money involved. In this regard, his daughter’s employment at Korelia Castle served as an added layer of security, making Cecile akin to a hostage.

Without delay, preparations began, and news of a planned return trip to Midlandia with an armed escort spread throughout Korelia. Lansius gathered all the military carts he had and loaded them with leathers, furs, and other local commodities.

Since winter was approaching, he believed he could make a profit by selling these items to offset their expenses. As expected, all merchants who owned horse-drawn carts jumped at the opportunity. Affordable armed escorts and a direct route to Midlandia were too good to pass up.

By the end of the week, preparations were complete, and the last element of Lansius’s plan arrived: Sir Justin and forty riders, half of whom were new recruits. Though satisfied with Sir Callahan, he wanted people from different backgrounds as an extra measure of protection to prevent collusion.

Now, with Sir Justin on the team, the convoy escort consisted of a diverse mix of Lowlandians, Arvenians, and Midlandians.

The following morning, just after dawn, Lansius bid farewell to the caravan and cavalry escort. Cecile’s farewell to her father was particularly emotional. The last time they had parted, Callahan had returned with a large gash on his back.

With a gentle stare and a nod, the two silently said their goodbyes. Cecile held back her tears until the caravan and her father were out of sight. The fate of Korelia now rested squarely on the caravan and its cavalry escort.

***

Three weeks after the caravan’s departure, the air in Korelia turned dry, and a chilly wind blew from the north. Animals such as bears and foxes had gone into hibernation, signaling the onset of winter.

Despite the usual slow season, Korelia bustled with activity this year. Digging work accelerated, and two wooden towers were under construction. An enlarged, crude picket fence encircled the west side of the town, its sharpened tips positioned to deter cavalry attacks.

The upcoming war weighed heavily on Lansius’s mind. After surveying the region, he realized that nothing would stop an enemy from the west from reaching Korelia Castle. With no river, bridge, or natural bottleneck, the open steppe left Korelia vulnerable. Despite its size, Korelia was like a city-state with only the castle and town worth protecting.

As winter approached, Lansius, faced challenges in improving his situation. The Lowlandian nobles predictably wouldn’t build relations with him, as doing so would mean recognizing his claim over Korelia. Furthermore, he was a non-Lowlandian, non-noble, and not even Imperium-born, so his neighboring lords would treat him like a pariah, lest they attract hatred from their peers.

Lansius planned to train his troops, but Sir Justin, his new marshal, advised against it. Although Lansius introduced a new system and paid salaries, a lord could typically muster his troops for only forty days, and Lansius had already exceeded that limit.

Quietly abandoning the plan, he recognized that the concept of a standing army was still foreign in this era. After surveying their billets, he also realized that he might be asking too much from his men. They were primarily Midlandians, and this year they had marched, fought an uneven battle, and dug trenches to earn extra money. Now they spent their winter away from home to guard Korelia from daring surprise attacks. So, Lansius decided to tread carefully, lest his men grow resentful and desert.

Instead, he concentrated on bolstering defenses and producing crossbows. Interestingly, while no Lowlandian nobles sought him out, a steady stream of guests arrived, eager to meet the new Lord of Korelia.

Baronets, knights, and village elders with nothing to do in their lands after the harvest ended traveling to Korelia for hospitality, as was customary for a new lord. They had no immediate reason for the trip other than boredom and the chance to enjoy a free feast at the new lord’s expense.

For Lansius, the guests were a source of constant annoyance. Because of them, he needed to dress up in bright, colorful, and uncomfortable tunics and fur coats to show his status.

He referred to them as his circus costume, but wearing them alone was not so bad. For him, the worst part was engaging the guests in pleasantries.

Lansius dreaded small talk. On a personal level, he found the exchanges mostly hollow and superficial. He also had a lingering suspicion that people ridiculed him behind his back because of his crude language and abysmal social skills.

Nevertheless, his sense of responsibility and the presence of Audrey made him tolerate it. She became his social and emotional crutch during social events, giving him the confidence he rarely possessed.

As was customary, the lord would dine together with his retinue, old and new, along with socializing with the guests.

That day, a pair of elderly knights had come to greet Lansius. Although they were too old to answer his call, Lansius wanted to show his benevolence and invited them to join him for supper in the great hall.

The airy hall was filled with a warm glow from the chandeliers, casting flickering shadows across the polished floor. The high ceiling soared above, supported by old but sturdy wooden beams.

Long wooden tables with benches ran down the center of the hall and were adorned with platters of roasted meats, loaves of bread, and bowls of steaming vegetables.

At the far end of the hall, a massive fireplace blazed, its crackling flames casting cheerful light and warmth throughout the room. The walls were decorated with tapestries of ancient battles, while at one end of the room stood a raised platform where Lansius and his closest companions sat.

A skald had just finished reciting an old poem about the tales of a heroic Lowlandian boy and a Midlandian princess.

The atmosphere was lively, filled with the sound of chatter and laughter, and the occasional clink of goblets being raised in toast.

“Well, as long as they didn’t brag about themselves for too long and don’t borrow money,” answered Lansius.

Audrey chuckled. Both had had their share of wine.

“I doubt they’re that insidious, my lord. They’re merely wanting to see the powerful Lord of Korelia.”

“The Black-Haired Lion Tamer of Korelia,” Lansius corrected her.

Audrey smirked but tried to hide it, knowing that Lansius disliked that moniker.

“You seemed to enjoy this yourself, Lady Audrey?”

“Nonsense, I’d rather stand behind you in armor than wear this frilly gown.”

Lansius couldn’t resist himself. “Your clean plate clearly shows otherwise.”

“My lord, food is food. I’m against letting a good meal go to waste.”

This time, Lansius chuckled. “You know, I always think lowly of a lord that holds feasts in the face of a famine.”

Audrey snorted. She remembered how Lansius was against throwing a daily feast, but then he realized it was just a means to feed his retinue.

“A feast is hardly a party,” Audrey commented. “Just with a bit more food and entertainment. Besides, we have plenty of fresh meat available.”

Lansius nodded his head in agreement.

Due to the large number of herders in Korelia, there was an abundance of meat and poultry. However, the townsfolk could not survive on meat alone. They needed grains to sustain the population until the next harvest. Wheat and oats for the wealthy, barley and rye for the poor.

Lansius was acutely aware of this problem, but he had to push his concern aside for the time being, as he could do nothing but wait for the caravan to return.

He gazed upon the lively great hall and sighed.

Audrey noticed, so Lansius explained, “I feel bad letting Calub and Hugo labor hard while I’m enjoying a fancy supper.”

She sipped her cup of watered wine and replied, “We need to keep you healthy, my lord.”

“So I can plow the land and pluck chickens in spring?”

It came so out of the blue that Audrey burst into laughter and frantically covered her mouth. Her innocent laughter made the hall even more pleasant.

Unbeknownst to them, the restrained affection between Lansius and Audrey became a sought-after interest for everyone in their presence. The love between a lord and his squire was scandalous, but everyone, including the guests, was delighted.

They spoke highly of a man who chose to love his squire instead of some noble-born woman. After all, the Lowlandians were a hardy breed of people. They admired women who were strong and as capable as men.

This sentiment naturally grew because the region was often inhospitable and marred by frequent wars and conflicts.

As the feast ended, as was customary, the lord and Lady Audrey were the first to retire. Leaving the great hall and walking through the inner corridor, they were accompanied by Cecile and Stirling.

The two new members of his retinue were enjoying their work. Lansius had proven to be a just leader. Personally, they thought that the new lord was too soft, but his reputation as a war leader was undisputed.

They grew to respect Lansius despite his lack of superior physical or social qualities.

They took the stairs, and Lansius turned around to address them. “Thank you for the day. You may retire now.”

“My lord.” The two bowed their heads.

“Thank you and good night,” Lansius warmly said.

The two left the premises. Stirling headed to the great hall where squires and other male servants slept for the night. Meanwhile, Cecile went to a room she shared with Carla and another servant.

Even without them, Lansius and Audrey couldn’t spend their time together. The guard posted on the stairs kept a watchful eye.

Lansius could tell them to leave, but that would arouse even greater gossip.

That didn’t stop intoxicated Lansius from trying. “Don’t you want to come in?” he asked.

Audrey’s answer was a strong gaze that made Lansius blink and shudder. “It went off again.”

“Not sorry,” Audrey said with a pout.

Lansius grinned, remembering what the magus they had befriended in Midlandia had said about Audrey’s eyes. She said they were not normal and likely the result of an unknown magic Audrey’s master had bestowed upon her without her knowledge.

“So, see you tomorrow?” Lansius asked.

Audrey nodded. “Good night, Lans,” she said with a smile and left for the night.

While Lansius was openly showing affection, Audrey was more reserved about it. She had grown to care for Lansius, but she feared she would be a hindrance.

Despite her expensive gown and silver accessories, Audrey knew she had no land or estate to her name, and her social status was unclear. Not even a bastard, her adoption into a baronet family held little weight.

Audrey couldn’t help but feel like a burden to Lansius, knowing that he would gain nothing from marrying her. As a rising star, it seemed inevitable that Lansius would eventually wed the daughter of another nobleman.

Pausing by a small window, Audrey took a moment to breathe in the cool evening breeze, a welcome respite from her swirling thoughts. Each day was a renewed struggle to maintain a careful distance from Lansius, yet each day, he managed to draw her in afresh, making her fall in love all over again. With these conflicting emotions swirling in her mind, she retreated to the sanctuary of her guest chamber for the night.

***

A week had passed, and a new day dawned in Korelia, marked by its bustling routine. Ever since the new lord had settled in, there had been no idle moment. Each day brought progress, whether in building up the inside or outside the city.

The defensive network advanced rapidly until today’s busy work was interrupted by a single cry. “They’re back, I’ve seen them. The caravan is back!”

Just after midday, the trade caravan from Midlandia was spotted in the distance. In droves, hundreds of men, women, and children rushed out to catch a glimpse of it.

The return of the caravan quickly became the highlight of the day. With rising grain prices, their return was filled with hope, especially for the most impoverished who could barely afford even the cheapest grain for their bread.

As they watched, they noticed an additional ten horse-drawn carts. Now, there were forty carts of different sizes, accompanied by a hundred cavalry escorts. For the first time in weeks, the most impoverished had a sparkle in their eyes. Not even the hot midday sun could dampen their spirits.

As the first caravan made its way into the city, a wave of cheering erupted, filling the air with excitement and anticipation.

The jubilant crowd soon discovered that the ten additional carts were a gift from the Lord of Midlandia to commemorate Lansius’s victory, and the news spread like wildfire. The cheers grew louder, echoing through the main road and into the surrounding streets. It was a moment of pure joy and celebration.

The merchants wasted no time, quickly unloading their goods at their respective shops and immediately opening for business. Hundreds of eager customers lined up to purchase the affordable grain, with the long queues lasting until sundown.

For a few days, the arrival of affordable grain led to a dip in local market prices. However, this brief respite was short-lived, as prices began to rise again on the fourth day.

Despite the arrival of the grain caravan, Korelia’s situation only experienced a slight improvement before continuing to decline. The crisis had not been averted, and Calub’s words of caution rang true.

***

Chapter 37

Little Timmy

Despite the grain caravan’s success, the relief it brought to Korelia was short-lived. The price of grain dipped for a few days, before steadily rising again.

The next morning, Lansius visited a worksite, accompanied by Calub, Cecile, Carla, and Stirling, along with two guards who provided security.

Arriving while the sun was still in the east, he closely inspected the progress made on the site, ensuring the ditches were deep enough and equipped with a simple sewer system to prevent mud accumulation.

He also checked the nearly finished picket fence. Though rough and crude, it would serve as an effective deterrent. Now, not only the castle, but also the town, had additional protection measures.

While a wall or a wooden palisade would be better, Korelia didn’t have the timber and resources to build one. Even building the picket fence likely put some strain on Korelia’s only forest for decades to come.

In this regard, Lansius envied the Romans whose region could supply them with endless timber for fortifications. Compared to them, Lowlandia was akin to the Eurasian steppe.

Satisfied with the inspection, Lansius approached the wooden tower, which was halfway completed. Calub had informed him that the platform could be used to address the men.

Lansius climbed up and gazed at the numerous workers toiling away on the defenses. He took a deep breath, but the tension refused to leave him. Nevertheless, he turned to Stirling and said, “Go ahead. Get their attention.”

Stirling nodded, turned toward the workers, and bellowed in a loud, crisp voice, “Attention, all! You stand in the presence of the Lord of Korelia! Gather around and listen!” His energetic tone made his presence felt.

The workers took notice, dropped their tools, and gathered around. Lansius saw many familiar faces, mostly the troops that had stayed with him since the previous year.

“Please, do not be alarmed. I am here to speak with you briefly,” Lansius said, projecting his voice so that everyone could hear him over the sounds of wind and other noises. “First, it’s the third day, so we’re here to pay for your work.”

This announcement attracted short cheers from the crowd.

“It’s usually the treasurer’s job, but there’s a slight change. Today, we’re giving you a new option . . . You can choose to be paid in cash or salt.”

At the mention of salt, there were murmurs among the crowd.

“The usual rate is three days of work for two silver coins. Now, I can offer you a cup of salt for the same—”

The crowd grew lively all of a sudden.

“Order! Order,” Stirling shouted, trying to maintain control.

“Three days of work for a cup of salt. The rate stays until winter ends,” Lansius paused. “Next week, the ground will probably be too hard to work on. However, the workshops will be ready.”

The crowd listened intently.

“I’ll pay the same rate for the workshop. Two silvers or a cup of salt—”

Just like a beehive being struck, the crowd was buzzing. Their faces were overjoyed. For many, their biggest fear of not having enough food for winter was now allayed.

“Order, say your piece after the lord is done.” Stirling tried to rein in the crowd.

“The workshops will remain open throughout the winter, and if you choose to work there, while it won’t be much or taste as good, we’ll provide you with two free meals a day.”

At this point, the crowds just couldn’t believe what they heard, leaving Lansius to continue his speech. “We will also provide firewood for the night, and those who do not have access to firewood for their families can spend the night there.”

This time, there was only a little cheering. Instead, all Lansius got were murmurs and a different kind of look from the crowd.

Did I say something wrong?

However, Lansius pressed on. “Lastly, the small amount of salt you’ll get probably won’t be enough for meat curing. So I’ve ordered the castle, just for this winter, to buy more fresh meat, and we’ll pay in salt. A bucket of salt for a fat lamb, less for smaller ones.”

Despite Lansius’s expectations, the crowd reacted differently. Doubt was etched on their faces.

Calub took the stage after Lansius had said his piece.

I’m really not a good speaker . . . Lansius thought as he descended from the tower.

“Fellow Korelians,” Calub began, addressing the crowd. “I have the lord’s speech in writing. The town crier will share the details in the main plaza over the next few days. With that said, let’s get down to business.”

Afterward, Calub started the roll call, and each worker was given the option of taking coins or salt.

Now, only time would tell if Lansius’s plan would work or fail.

***

Last summer, little Timmy lost his job, shelter, and meals when the family he worked for faced difficulties due to a livestock stillborn disease that had afflicted their herd.

Timmy joined forces with other similarly unlucky children and resorted to begging for alms or food in the streets of Korelia. Although his situation was dire, he wasn’t the unluckiest. Little Tia held that title, having lost her flock to a wolf attack, which also left her with a limp.

The children formed a group to survive. Tia’s knitting skills came in handy for making winter clothes from scraps of leather or unused rags. However, they struggled to find food.

It was a well-known fact that the poorest inhabitants of Korelia faced a bleak fate every winter. Korelia was a harsh place to live. Its winter mercilessly culled those unfortunate enough to lack food, fire, and shelter.

A shepherd family without enough livestock faced hunger or death. It was a deadly dilemma.

Butchering too many of their herd would make them poorer the following year, but butchering too few could lead to the loss of a family member from hunger.

Timmy had lost his last aunt and several friends the previous winter, and this year, the situation was even more dire as food prices rose so high, making it unaffordable for most.

After the harvest was over, there was very little work to be found, and many resorted to pickpocketing and even robbery.

Before the situation became critical, the new lord took over. They called him Black-Haired Lion Tamer, and his reputation preceded him, leading many to expect the worst.

Unexpectedly, the new lord initiated a series of works with the promise of pay. Most of the work involved digging trenches just outside the town. It hardly required any specific skills. Naturally, many of Korelia’s poorest applied, including Timmy.

Sadly, little Timmy was deemed too small.

However, many of the older kids in his group were accepted. The promise of pay materialized every three days. They were ecstatic. For the first time, they could sleep with a full stomach.

The work and pay continued to enable them to sustain themselves. But they knew winter was coming. Fear lingered in their minds that there would be no work if they couldn’t dig as the ground froze in winter.

As luck would have it, the situation improved when a much-talked-about caravan arrived, and grain prices dropped, much to everyone’s delight. But the price drop was short-lived.

For the poorest in Korelia, even with all their savings combined, they could only secure a paltry amount of grain.

That close to winter, things were looking grim. Many joked that the lord’s digging project would be a fitting burial site for them.

Then one day, the lord showed up and offered payment in salt. The poorest took the offer and ran to the market to trade their cup of salt for grain.

For them, it was nothing less than a miracle. The amount of grain they received from trading a cup of salt could feed a person through winter.

Suddenly, the situation changed rapidly for the better. Many were called back by their shepherd master. Now that everybody had salt, they gathered what they had and started a meat-curing process.

More and more shepherds sold their livestock for salt and gained enough to produce sausages, corned meat, and even meat jerky. Processed meat products fetched a high price at the market and boosted Korelia’s meager economy for the upcoming year.

Timmy and Tia weren’t the lucky ones. There was no work available for children and the crippled, but that didn’t deter them. They heard about the workshop that provided free meals twice a day and a working fireplace every night.

It sounded too good to be true, and naturally, there was a big crowd of applicants. Unsurprisingly, the two weren’t accepted, but they were permitted to spend the night.

Their first evening spent in the workshop would forever be etched in their memories. The warmth of the roaring fireplace, fueled by an abundant supply of firewood, provided a comforting reprieve from the biting cold outside.

To their delight, they were even given a woolen mat to sleep on, which felt like a luxurious treat. The skilled craftsmen employed by the lord kindly offered the children gruel in exchange for their help with cleaning.

During the day, they were assigned simple tasks, and in return, they received a slice of bread and a bowl of hearty stew, ensuring everyone had enough to sustain themselves.

As winter settled in, the first snowfall was quickly followed by a blizzard. Timmy and Tia watched and learned as craftsmen, carpenters, and apprentices crafted crossbow parts, strings, and bolt shafts.

The situation in the workshop was far from ideal, but now even the likes of Timmy and Tia could survive Korelia’s winter and hope for a better future.

Hundreds, if not thousands, of Korelia’s poorest residents, shared the same sentiment. Whether they were daily laborers, shepherds, orphans, or destitute townsfolk, they were all equally grateful. Under the rule of the new foreign lord, they sensed they could not only survive but also thrive in Korelia.

Though they had not yet fully placed their trust in him, they were beginning to see him as their beacon of hope.

What had started as a move to prevent an uprising had inadvertently galvanized support at the grassroots level. Unbeknownst to Lansius, he had mobilized the entirety of Korelia to his cause.

***

Chapter 38

Salarium

Winter had arrived in Korelia, and the landscape had turned into a beautiful white blanket of snow. As was the norm, many of the original staff had gone on leave to spend time with their families. However, this custom was not for the benefit of the staff, but mostly due to the constraint of the castle’s design.

Built mainly as a defensive structure, it had limited living space. When the outside castle grounds were buried in snow, the castle’s inhabitants were forced to conduct all their activities in the great hall.

This winter, around twenty staff, a dozen retainers, and guardsmen shared the castle’s limited living space.

Despite the lack of space, they carried on with their daily activities. Training, lunch, downtime, supper, and sleeping were done in the great hall. There, the younger staff members learned to read and write under the tutelage of their seniors, while some even practiced poetry, music, or singing.

The place was lively, but despite Lansius’s effort to free some space, comfort and personal space were still a challenge.

As for Lansius, he spent most of his time in the Great Chamber, a private place reserved only for the lord’s family. Without one, he surrounded himself with his closest circle around the large fireplace.

The chamber was a good place to relax, with a high ceiling that made it airy and more spacious. Its walls were fully plastered and painted white, while the ceiling boasted colorful decorative plants and floral patterns.

In there, Lansius ate, read books, and chatted with Audrey, Cecile, and Stirling about everything. However, two topics were off-limits: his origin as a farmer in Bellandia and his true origin.

For Lansius, the time was a well-deserved break away from guests and other responsibilities. Only at the start of winter could he enjoy a peaceful dinner.

Not everything was as enjoyable as he wished. Every day without fail, Audrey would drag him up for sword training and indoor archery.

Today, after sword and archery training, Lansius was talking with Stirling, who showed a keen interest in how Lansius had solved Korelia’s rising grain prices.

Lansius, bundled up in three layers of thick clothing and a warm fur coat, winced as he shifted in his padded chair, the bruises from a brutal sword sparring session still fresh on his skin. “First, tell me everything you know about the situation.”

Stirling, the only one standing in the room, straightened his back and gathered his thoughts.

The crackling from the fireplace filled the Great Chamber as they waited for an answer. Sitting next to Lansius, Audrey and Cecile also showed interest in the topic.

“My lord arranged for thirty carts to travel to Midlandia to purchase food.”

“Go on,” Lansius said.

“But while the merchants bought grains, my lord ordered all ten of your military carts to buy salt secretly.”

“That’s correct. Please continue.”

“After that . . . my lord paid the workers in salt. Also bought sheep and meat with salt. And then everybody seemed to have enough food for winter.” Stirling expressed his confusion.

Lansius smiled as Audrey and Cecile watched him intently. The two were also curious.

“Try to answer this question: is the problem in Korelia the rising price of grain, or the lack of grain?” Lansius prompted the group.

The lad and lass furrowed their brows, clearly thinking hard. Meanwhile, Audrey pursed her lips and looked away.

“You should give it a try,” Lansius encouraged.

Audrey held onto her golden fur coat tightly before stating, “I’m only interested in solving problems with steel.”

Lansius let out a chuckle. “You’ll make a poor baroness if you think that way.”

“I only need the money, not the title,” Audrey responded without any hint of regret.

Lansius snorted and shook his head in amusement.

Meanwhile, Cecile and Stirling listened intently. As the lord’s closest confidants, the two were privy to such information. While at first, the lord and Audrey tried to conceal it, they eventually grew tired and displayed it openly in front of the two.

Lansius, thinking he had given enough time for Stirling to think, eventually asked, “So, what’s your answer?”

Stirling drew a deep breath before answering, “The problem in Korelia is the rising price of grain, not the lack of it.”

“Exactly. As was usual after harvest, there was enough grain in Korelia. The only problem was the price.”

Stirling nodded, while Cecile and Audrey kept looking with great interest.

“To lower the price, we could bring grain from outside, but we know it won’t be enough. After all, thirty carts of grain cannot feed a whole town and troops through winter and spring,” Lansius mused.

“That’s what happened, right?” asked Audrey.

Lansius nodded. “Indeed, the merchants bought twenty carts of grain, and the Lord of Midlandia gave us another ten. But that only pushed the price down for . . . four days? As more people buy, the price will always rise.”

“Then, my lord, why don’t you force the merchants to lower the price?” Stirling asked.

Lansius leaned forward, emphasizing his point. “A town needs merchants. They’re the ones risking their lives and money to bring goods to us. It’s not the nobles, but the merchants who purchase linens, medicine, or even a simple iron nail from other places and bring them through winding routes to Korelia.”

Lansius glanced at Cecile’s face and saw that the girl was also listening intently.

“Coachmen and guardsmen need to eat and places to sleep, right?”

Cecile nodded quickly. “Of course, my lord.”

“And those cost money, correct?”

“They do. Even horses need fodder, and it’s not free,” answered Cecile.

Lansius chuckled. “Smart lass. You make your father proud.”

Cecile blushed and found herself staring at the stone floor. Audrey patted her on the back gently, saying, “Take the praise and wear it proudly.”

Lansius focused on Stirling again. “Everything costs money. If you send people to buy things, you’ll rack up considerable traveling expenses. And those expenses will be counted toward the goods they carry. And only then they’ll take profit so they can embark on another journey.”

“But, my lord what’s this got to do with the price of grain?” asked Stirling.

“I wanted you to understand the merchants’ situation. Most of the time, they don’t govern the price. They’re merely buyers and sellers. If the price rises, they’re not the ones who are at fault.”

Stirling nodded deeply. The lord just challenged what his cruel knight master had taught him about merchants.

Lansius looked at Cecile and continued. “The merchants aren’t evil. They’re greedy, but mostly only motivated by profit. They have no schemes other than avoiding losses and getting a good trade.”

“Now that we have that cleared up, let’s move on to the topic of salt,” Lansius declared, sensing a growing interest. Deep into the winter, they had exhausted everything, so anything new was met with excitement.

“To me, salt is just another currency.”

“Currency, my lord?”

“You have gold coins, big silver, and small silver, also copper and iron. Think of them as currency.”

“I see.” The young squire nodded his head. “But, why salt?”

Lansius reached into his purse and drew two silvers. “There are at least two good reasons. Name one and get a coin.”

“Because salt is useful in meat curing, my lord,” the blonde blurted out.

“That’s correct, and here’s your prize.” With a smile, Lansius put a coin into Cecile’s open palm.

“Gratitude, my lord.”

“Now, is there any other reason?” Lansius asked the squire while showing a silver between his thumb and finger.

Stirling thought hard. “Because salt is expensive?”

Lansius smiled but balled his hand into a fist. “We all know that. In landlocked Lowlandia, salt is worth its weight in silver. Can you tell me the reason?”

“My lord, salt has many uses. For medicine, cooking, also alchemy,” answered Stirling proudly.

Lansius motioned for Stirling to take the coin.

“Gratitude, my lord.” The lad humbly accepted it.

The crackling from the fireplace again filled the chamber. This time, the flames had dwindled, and the embers were barely glowing. Cecile rose from her seat and hurriedly shoved two small logs of firewood into the fire.

“Salt is so expensive here. I’ve heard almost nobody in Korelia has even a plate of it in their homes,” Audrey commented.

“Only the richest and the town butcher have that much,” Cecile said as she returned to her seat.

Stirling stood uncomfortably. “But why is only my lord buying salt? Why don’t the merchants buy grain too?”

“That’s because almost everybody in Korelia is poor. Merchants don’t stock items that people can’t buy,” Lansius explained.

Lansius watched the ember in the fireplace grow brighter and decided that he had provoked enough critical thinking in them. “Let’s summarize,” he began. “First, we don’t have the resources or time to transport enough grain to Korelia to lower the price.”

The trio understood that much. Nobody batted an eye.

“So, what I did was to bypass the high grain price using salt. Remember, the problem isn’t a shortage of grain in Korelia.” Lansius paused. “There’s enough grain in Korelia, in the merchants’ storages.”

They showed slight surprise.

Lansius continued. “Our problem is the merchants. They can’t sell their grain cheaply because they follow the market to maintain their margin.”

“And salt fixed it?” Audrey asked.

“Yup. The value of ten carts of salt we brought from Midlandia could probably purchase enough grain to feed Korelia for more than two years.”

The trio’s eyes widened in disbelief at the amount of grain that could be purchased. They exchanged surprised glances before Audrey spoke up. “But then, why make it complicated? If the goal is just to buy grain, why can’t you use silver and gold to buy grain?”

“That’s the monster hiding in the shadows,” Lansius remarked. “If you use silver to buy grain, the price will keep increasing in Korelia and neighboring cities. You can say the merchants will have so much silver that they don’t want it as much as before.”

Lansius could see that the concept was difficult to understand, but he pressed forward nonetheless. “However, if you use salt to buy grain, the price increase is small.”

“But why?” Stirling asked.

Lansius chuckled. “But you have answered it already. Remember, salt has many uses: to cure meat, medicine, and all. Meanwhile, silver is only good for trade, making cutlery, or jewelry. Silver has little real usage for common people, unlike salt.”

The trio began to grasp the concept.

Lansius knew he had his work cut out for him if they wished to learn more, but for now, he was satisfied that they were trying to understand the basic principles.

“That’s why salt is just as acceptable as silver or copper. It’s even better in our case because many Korelians can find real use for it.”

A currency that also has direct utility, imagine . . . No wonder the Romans loved it.

Lansius recalled how the word salary itself was believed to be derived from salarium or salt. Because the Romans once paid their soldiers with salt.

“I still don’t get it, but if it’s fixed, it’s fixed,” Audrey commented lightly while reaching out for her cup on the small table. Cecile readily filled her cup with pale ale.

“Though I’m still curious, how did you know that the merchants would react well with salt instead of the usual coins?” Audrey asked after she had sipped her drink.

“It was a gamble,” Lansius admitted. “But a currency that has real usage is powerful. It’s resilient and stable. That’s why the merchants played along. They took the risk because they can sell salt easily for profit outside of Korelia.”

As he finished his explanation, Lansius leaned back in his chair.

Stirling rubbed his chin as he pondered. Suddenly, Lansius recalled something, “And you know what the funny thing is?”

The trio looked at each other but mostly shrugged.

“It’s only working for Korelia.” The lord laughed, leaving his friend and two attendants puzzled.

Korelia was a special case. It had an unusually large number of poor shepherd families who benefited greatly from Lansius’s salt scheme. Salt was heavily used to preserve meat and make delicacies, such as sausages, ham, and long-lasting meat jerky.

Lansius hadn’t thought about it, but it was the missing component in Korelia’s nascent industry. With products to sell, many gained more than just enough to survive the winter.

Naturally, the same scheme wouldn’t work for other places whose main populace was farmers. A farming community didn’t need a large amount of salt. Thus, there was no incentive to take salt payment or use it as a bartering commodity.

Still, Lansius didn’t disclose everything. He kept the fact that his scheme to pay in salt was causing him to lose money, with a little loss on every payment. His treasurer, Calub, had raised concerns, but Lansius viewed it as an investment.

He wanted to give something to the people of Korelia, something for them to hope for other than just another war in the future.

But Lansius knew that despite averting famine, the threat of war loomed large. Despite all his preparations, there was a high chance that he would eventually need to abandon Korelia to its fate.

***

Chapter 39

The First Winter

Maester Calub, the Alchemist, Treasurer of Korelia

The harsh lady of winter had blanketed the Korelia landscape in fresh, pristine white snow. It was a cycle that had begun since time immemorial. At first glance, it appeared that nothing had changed in Korelia; the cold and bitter winds that battered the landscape were the same that their forefathers endured.

However, upon closer inspection, one could see that the Korelians this year had a different look in their eyes. Warmer, but more vigorous, as they no longer had to abandon their unlucky neighbors to die at the height of winter.

Although nothing appeared to have changed from the outside, a long-lost hope had been rekindled within. Everywhere in Korelia, whether at home or in winter shelters, people spoke highly of the new Lord of Korelia.

The old mentioned his name in their toasts, while the young were eager to pledge their support to his cause. Not even the cold winter weather could dampen their spirits.

Likewise, the scrawny troops from Midlandia shared the enthusiasm. Typically, contract soldiers like them were only called upon for wars and left to fend for themselves during winter and spring. However, the new lord was providing them with steady pay and winter quarters, complete with food and blankets.

Although the lord sheltered inside his castle, his name was on everyone’s lips.

Calub, who had recently bought a house in town, faced daily questions about what the lord was like. Everybody who met him at the workshop was curious—the carpenter, fletcher, and local merchants all wanted to know.

The alchemist, who knew little about Lansius, only divulged small details, fearing he might reveal things he shouldn’t have. Although he knew from Audrey that Lansius used to work as a clerk and a teacher, he had never worked as a merchant or noble. However, Lansius was suspiciously knowledgeable about trade, military, and leadership.

No wonder Lord Bengrieve wanted him as his henchman.

Lord Lansius remained a mysterious figure, even to his closest confidants. Audrey, who had known him the longest, still didn’t know everything about him.

Calub’s move to a house in the town was done hastily. Along with Hugo and the rest, he had planned to just stay in the great hall for the winter. While as the treasurer, he had a separate room, it was almost ancient and unsuitable for winter.

When Lansius heard about this, he urged Calub to buy a house in town, preferably close to the workshop, so he could easily reach the workshop if weather permitted.

Lansius was fully supportive of the move and even allowed Calub to bring along Margo, the pageboy, and Roger, who had recently recovered from his injury.

Calub was thrilled with the new arrangement. He was able to purchase a spacious two-story building with an attic at a discounted rate because the owner was keen to get into the new lord’s good graces. But the most important feature was the cellar.

The house boasted a large stone-walled cellar that was perfect for his alchemy lab. With the winter downtime, he planned to replenish his dwindling supply of alchemy concoctions. Although he could conduct his experiments anywhere, he preferred not to do so in the castle, as it posed a risk of fire or hazardous gas leaks.

For Calub, following Lansius’s leadership had been a highly rewarding experience.

Better than crawling through the depths of the earth, seeking a rare find in dwarven catacombs.

The memory was bittersweet for Calub and his comrades. They had lost a dear friend in the labyrinth. That was when Felis and another member decided to call it quits. They had made a name for themselves, but reality caught up with them. Entering the labyrinth was always a gamble with their lives.

Calub had buried many friends in that place, but the last one was special. She was a fifth-generation beastgirl—tough, headstrong, and playful like a child. They had met when they were little and grown to become adept explorers together.

Like many who arrived on the vast shore of Progentia, the old continent, they tried to better their lives and their family. One big haul of artifacts from the depth of dwarven catacombs would net them enough money for life.

However, the depths of that underground world were home to horrors that claimed the subterranean as their lairs.

Calub and his last team were among the few lucky ones who returned mostly intact. With enough money for retirement, Calub officially entered the Alchemist guild, while Felis started a tavern in Feodosia.

As a member of the prestigious guild, Calub mingled with the educated class in Midlandia and was quickly enamored with a number of freethinkers. With his capital, he sponsored several projects, the most ambitious of which was the school for the commoners and landless gentry.

For the educated Midlandians far from the center of the Imperium’s seat of power, the world was changing. In Midlandia, there were more landless gentries than ever before, intellectuals, guild members, or entrepreneurs who stood on their own without farmland to support them.

People like Felis and Calub became part of this burgeoning new social class. Although the term landless was a mockery from the nobility, they wore it proudly as a token of their free-willed spirits unbound to the old idea of feudalism.

***

A similar situation happened to Hugo and his band of guardsmen. They had planned to sleep at the great hall but were sent to a mansion east of town. The mansion was old, and only a portion of its fifteen rooms were in good condition, but this freed quite a bit of space for people who stayed behind in the castle.

Hugo’s nascent infantrymen, a project of his lord, happily received this order. This arrangement gave them more freedom to socialize with the townsfolk in between winter and heavy snow.

The benefits went both ways. With Hugo gone, the castle staff could relax a bit. Audrey was the only high-ranking staff member left in the castle, and she tended to overlook minor issues and avoid any actions that might demoralize the staff.

Lansius knew that winter was a harsh season, and he took every precaution he could to make sure that the castle ran smoothly.

***

Lansius, the Acting Lord of Korelia

“Ugh . . .” Lansius panted weakly after reading the letter from Midlandia. Despite sending ten of Lowlandia’s finest horses, Bengrieve’s reply was still razor sharp. That was why he had delayed opening the letter brought by Sir Justin and Callahan.

Audrey, on the other hand, was lively. She leaned from her chair to hear Lansius better. “Is there any mention of me?”

“No, you’re safe,” he reassured her.

“So, what does it say?”

“Well, he thanked me for the gift, but I’m still getting lectured.” Lansius sighed. “He wrote that I shouldn’t do rash things like purchasing ten cartloads of salt. And also, he advised me against playing a hero.”

Their benefactor wasn’t keen on risky gambling. Securing ten cartloads of salt without advance notice wasn’t easy even for Bengrieve.

“That salts must’ve been really expensive,” Audrey commented.

“Yeah, it cost a fortune. It could pay for an army for ten months. Thankfully, the salt plan worked.”

“If it didn’t, then Bengrieve would . . .” Audrey left the sentence unfinished, grinning mischievously.

“No, please don’t say it. That’s too much,” Lansius pleaded, slouching in his seat.

“I’m still curious how Bengrieve decided to help you.”

“Well, I assured him that I’m his pet. Inside those five chests was all the wealth left from our victory. Now, I’m nearly penniless. There was only enough for troops and the castle staff’s expenses.”

Audrey nodded. “So no more building projects next year.”

Lansius shook his head.

She sipped her drink and changed the subject. “I’m still curious that five chests can purchase that much salt.”

“I borrowed a little.”

“Eh?” Audrey was surprised. “And what’s the collateral?”

“Besides my neck and my family, also you . . .” admitted Lansius.

“I figured . . .” Audrey let out a sigh.

“I tried to pawn this castle, but he didn’t see the value.”

Audrey snorted at the notion. “At least he sees value in us. So, how much are we in debt?”

“Well, the plate armor we ordered, even just partial sets, was still quite a sum. But no worries, I’ll work hard and shear lots of sheep next summer,” Lansius joked, making Audrey chuckle.

Lansius sensed that Lord Bengrieve was supportive of his cause. As if the seneschal was gambling on Lansius’s future victory for reasons Lansius had yet to decipher.

Is he that rich to give me big loans so easily? Or is it simply cheaper to send money than men to help Korelia?

As Lansius pondered Bengrieve’s inexplicable support for his cause, despite refusing to send any form of reinforcement, the sun’s intense rays baked his bedchamber walls, located on the upper floor of the castle. He had removed his fur coat and mittens, feeling the warmth.

The staff referred to his chamber as the lord’s chamber. It was furnished with tapestries hung on the wall. Made from thick wool like a carpet, the colorful tapestries served as decorations as well as insulation. The castle’s stone brick was frigid during winter, and without the tapestries, the room would feel like cold storage.

“Well . . . at least you solved the famine. The people loved it. Everybody got enough grain for winter and salt to do stuff. I’ve heard it’s the first time Korelia was this prepared for winter.”

Audrey’s words brought Lansius back from pondering. “Huh, really? Where did you hear such a thing?”

“Mm, is it from Cecile or probably Calub? Could be Sterling or Hugo, can’t remember.”

“Sterling?”

“Oh, that’s the squire’s real name. Turns out, his abusive knight master even changed his name out of spite,” she explained.[SL1] 

“Poor lad . . .”

Audrey continued, “The point is, the Korelians are happy under your rule.”

The way she proudly said that made Lansius grin from ear to ear. “That’s funny. A long time ago, a certain squire told me that I’m dumb because I don’t know how to prepare my straw bed or clean a bowl using firewood ash.”

Audrey whistled nervously, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, my lord.”

That made Lansius chuckle.

Audrey suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, I think it’s almost ready,” and went to the fireplace.

At Lansius’s urge, they had prepared a pottage, a kind of stew cooked inside a metal cooking pot, inside his chamber.

The stew was made of wheat and beans, mixed with a bit of cheese and eggs. Although it was considered a poor man’s food, Lansius had been eating it for three years and felt that winter wouldn’t feel right without it.

As he enjoyed a bubble of peace and familiarity, Lansius asked himself just how long he could enjoy this peace before paying the price. He also wondered whether he could enjoy this again next year.

Where will I be next winter?

***

Chapter 40

Echoes of Ceresia

The lord’s chamber boasted a fireplace spacious enough to fit a small cauldron, which now was bubbling and steaming over a wood fire. The aroma of simmering pottage mingled with the sweet scent of burning wood and the cool, crisp winter air that wafted in through a small, narrow window.

Audrey carefully stirred the pottage with a wooden spoon while Lansius took in the delightful aroma.

“It smells delicious,” he commented.

Audrey brought a bowl of the pottage and placed it on the small table by the fire, topping it with slightly charred bread. “Let me taste it first,” she said as she sat across from Lansius and slowly blew on the porridge-like mixture.

Lansius cut the bread in half, revealing a soft and warm interior beneath a crispy crust. Audrey took a spoonful of the pottage and murmured something incoherent, but Lansius understood from her gesture that he should try it too. He scooped up a spoonful of the savory concoction.

Gah, it’s still hot!

As the taste of the pottage hit him, memories flooded back, but then something hit him squarely on the tongue. “Audrey, why is it so salty?”

“It’s. . . err . . . it’s a superior version?” She seemed nervous.

“A what?” Lansius suspected that Audrey had put too much salted meat into the pottage.

This isn’t a mistake, this is gluttony.

“Needs more peas,” Audrey exclaimed, grabbing the bowl and spoon from Lansius. She scooped another mouthful as she ran to the fireplace. There, she added more water and stirred the pot vigorously.

“You know, Audrey, you can be quite puzzling,” Lansius said.

“Why’s that?” she asked.

“Just a while back, you wouldn’t share a cup with me, yet now you don’t mind sharing a spoon.”

Audrey made a clicking sound with her tongue before replying. “What choice do I have? The castle’s kitchen only has metal ladles, and all your spoons are silver. The pottage just doesn’t taste the same without a wooden spoon, and I only have this one.”

“Right . . .  Sorry for complaining then,” Lansius responded, realizing he should simply be grateful for their return to normalcy. The issues of his lordship had put a wedge in their relationship.

Their bond reminded him of a castle, its sturdy walls creating a distance between them. Despite their apparent closeness, an unseen barrier always lingered. Audrey had built this barrier intentionally, with the goal of protecting Lansius’s future. No matter how hard he tried to scale the walls, he always fell back down.

“By the way, Lans, was there any news about your family?” she asked, leaving the pottage to simmer. It needed some time to cook.

Lansius’s expression grew serious. “The letter didn’t specify much, but I believe smuggling people out of Arvena isn’t a simple task.”

“I trust him,” Audrey stated, taking a seat.

“Really?” Lansius was surprised by Audrey’s confidence.

“Lord Bengrieve isn’t the type to speak cheaply. If he says that he’ll even employ the Hunter Guild to get your family out of Averna, then he’ll do so.”

Lansius paused for a moment, contemplating Audrey’s certainty. “How can you be so sure? You’ve only met Bengrieve a few times.”

“It’s in the eyes,” she explained bluntly. “When he said that, he meant business.” Audrey’s straightforwardness made Lansius feel somewhat guilty for doubting the man.

“I hope so . . . It’s been years since I last saw my family . . .” Lansius stood up and approached the narrow window, peering out at the vast open plains below, now covered in a white sheet of ice. The reflective surface made for a beautiful display of sunlight.

The winter in Korelia was harsher than Arvena’s, though less snowy. The snow barely reached ankle-depth, but the cold seeped in much deeper.

Suddenly, Audrey muttered something that sounded like an apology.

“Hmm? Did you say something?” Lansius questioned.

“I said I’m sorry,” she replied with a frown and a bitter expression.

Lansius looked at her, surprised. “Sorry for what?”

“If I hadn’t messed up back then, you could have returned to your family and escaped Arvena. Instead, I made you wait for nothing.”

“That’s not true. It was chaotic back then. Even if we had met, I still wouldn’t have been able to escape west and reach my family,” Lansius said, comforting her.

Despite his words, Audrey remained consumed by guilt. She was still haunted by the idea that she had willingly chosen to stand with Riverstead’s defense rather than fleeing away with Lansius, only to end up in a hospice after the city’s surrender.

It pained Lansius seeing Audrey shouldering a guilt that wasn’t hers to bear. He held her hand, looked deep into her eyes, and spoke. “Audrey, it was me leaving you. You haven’t wronged me in any way.”

She averted her gaze, but her face softened. Lansius noticed how her head injury was now covered by thick, healthy hazelnut-brown hair. The big scars that made her wear a veil last year were now fully covered.

This is such a mood wrecker for such a beautiful day.

Thinking quickly, he called out, “Stefi, Stephania!”

“Lans!” Audrey was taken aback and immediately charged at him, unleashing a flurry of punches. The first punch stung, but the rest were playful.

Lansius laughed at her reaction, shielding himself from her blows. “Okay, okay, I apologize.”

“Humph! Don’t ever call me that again,” she threatened with a pout.

Lansius nodded, struggling to contain his laughter. Audrey turned away. He understood her reaction; after all, she had narrowly escaped being sold into slavery. The stigma attached to slavery was so strong that many changed their names once they regained their freedom.

Audrey’s case was even more complicated because of the Sabina Rustica incident. While the slavers were illegal, the fighting by Arvenians in Midlandia was considered a serious crime.

Moreover, with Lord Arte’s involvement, the risk heightened, making it crucial to cut all traceable links. As a consequence, even though he wasn’t present in Sabina Rustica during the incident, Sir Stan’s father felt compelled to adopt Audrey into his family.

That was the official reason, but Lansius and even Audrey herself were doubtful. However, one thing was sure, Audrey’s origins as a citizen of western Centuria made her adoption an easy fix.

Reflecting on all this stirred something within Lansius. “Come here, girl.”

Contrary to his words, Lansius was the one who moved toward her.

“Eh, what are you—” she began to protest as Lansius enveloped her in a hug from behind.

“I can’t help it. You look so cute today.”

“Stop it, Lans,” Audrey protested, her cheeks turning pink. “If you want to succeed, you need to marry a noblewoman. Uwaa, don’t sniff my hair, it’s dirty and sweaty!”

Ignoring her protests, Lansius buried his face in her hazelnut brown hair. Audrey made a quick attempt to free herself from his arms, but Lansius held her firmly. “But it’s winter, you can’t possibly be sweating that much… Oof, okay, maybe just a little,” he teased.

Audrey gripped his arms and managed to break free, displaying her strength. “I’m practicing daily, that’s why it’s sweaty,” she retorted while staring at Lansius with a hint of killing intent.

No, it’s just her usual gaze.

“Your eyes, Audrey . . . they’re a bit unnerving,” Lansius remarked, his thoughts drifting back to an event that took place in Toruna the previous year. Spring had yet to fully arrive when a black carriage trundled up the mud-soaked country road to the manor’s entrance.

That day, Sir Stan had welcomed a member of the Hunter Guild. The person was invited to confirm the mage’s suspicions about Audrey’s eyes. The guildsman, a man in his fifties, expressed surprise to see someone outside of the Hunter Guild with a skill akin to Carnivore Sight.

This ability could trigger a primal fear in beasts. It was useful to deter aggressive beasts from attacking, or to stun a rabbit from running away.

Audrey herself confirmed the guildsman’s assessment, revealing she seldom faced problems with wild animals. Although the guest wouldn’t elaborate further, Lansius suspected that the ability also worked against humans, as he had experienced during their regular sparring sessions. It was nearly impossible to fight Audrey while maintaining eye contact.

“Not sorry.” Audrey glared.

“Ah, right, I’m sorry,” Lansius apologized, though he felt the hug was worth it.

“I need to go,” Audrey announced, grabbing her golden fur coat.

“Where to?” Lansius asked.

“To practice. I need to teach Carla and Sterling.”

“Why don’t you stay a bit longer? Like you used to . . .”

Audrey looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Audrey[SL2] , I feel like you’ve been avoiding me more. Are you hiding something?”

She clicked her tongue. “I keep no secrets.”

“Then why?” asked Lansius.

Audrey hesitated for a moment before responding. “It’s not you. It’s me . . . If I stay by your side, no noble will offer you their daughter.”

Lansius drew a deep breath. “I already told you, I don’t want that.”

“Lans, you’re the smart one,” she pleaded. “You should know that marrying someone like me is a dead end. Worse, I’m oath-bound to—”

“I know about your vendetta. I can help you with that,” Lansius interrupted, trying to comfort her.

The sound of the cooking pot boiling filled the room. Audrey looked down, deep in thought. “I don’t think I can accept that. I’m sure you’ll find someone better. A proper lady . . .”

Lansius grabbed her hand, feeling the warmth of her palm and fingers. “Remember Ceresia?”

Audrey looked away. “What about it?”

“Just us and Horsie in a barn, and a roaring fireplace.”

She smiled softly as she remembered those simpler times. “There were also two old men and a couple of boys in there.”

Lansius chuckled, but his laughter faded quickly. A thought came to mind. “Audrey, what if I weren’t a noble?”

Audrey furrowed her brow, caught off guard by his question. “What do you mean? Are you thinking of giving up?”

“No, no, I mean, just imagine for a moment, what if I were just a simple clerk from Riverstead?”

“If that were the case,” her words trailed off as memories from the past resurfaced. Suddenly, her expression changed, as if she had figured out the answer to a long-standing riddle. Acting on impulse, she rose on her tiptoes and gently pulled Lansius’s head toward her, pressing her lips against his in a tender, unexpected kiss.

Their lips locked together, and time stood still. Lansius was surprised at first but quickly melted into the kiss, his heart beating wildly. They parted too soon, and Lansius wished it had lasted longer.

Audrey took a step back, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red as she covered her mouth with her hand. Lansius couldn’t help but stare at her, grinning happily.

I always thought she had issues with me!

Audrey dashed to grab her fur coat and left the room in a hurry. Lansius chased her and called out to her shamelessly, “Mwah!”

“Nuoo!” Audrey objected furiously, quickening her pace along the corridor. The guards and attendants looked at each other, probably thinking the two were out of their minds.

Later, Lansius heard that Carla and Sterling had received the sparring of their lives. Lansius felt bad for them, but he couldn’t apologize since that would require explanations.

In the following days, Audrey avoided him as much as possible, which was difficult since they shared a castle. They only met at dinner, where she would sit near Lansius, where the best food was served. However, she intentionally kept her mouth full at all times and wasn’t involved in the conversation.

The staff smelled something fishy and tried to pry information out of Lansius, but he wouldn’t give them anything, fearing they might try to stage something.

After all, the Korelians had a vested interest in this matter. They would benefit greatly if Lansius married another Lowlandian noble’s daughter.

This situation led Lansius to understand that, in the end, it was just Audrey and him against the world. But for once, he was at peace. For months, he had struggled to define their relationship, and only now he was sure that Audrey loved him back. For Lansius, that was all that truly mattered.

He had made a mistake in the past, but he wouldn’t let it happen again. He would no longer negotiate with his happiness. Even if people who depended on him would hate him for it, he would gladly shoulder the blame.

***

Chapter 41

The Coming of Spring

Cecile, Cup-Bearer to the Lord of Korelia

The burgeoning romance between Lord Lansius and Captain Audrey soon became the castle’s chief topic of conversation. The tale of a noble falling for someone of humble birth never failed to captivate the people’s hearts. As a cup-bearer, Cecile was privy to the unfolding saga. Initially skeptical, she eventually grew to admire the couple.

Cecile understood that the staff’s fascination with the love story stemmed largely from Audrey’s humble beginnings, a reflection of their own. Most of the staff hailed from esquire families, contrasting with Cecile, whose father was a knight.

Esquires, descending from squires or knights, held a distinct social position—not quite nobility, but more than mere commoners. This status of lower nobility was not hereditary and expired with the individual’s passing.

Many of the younger staff members were absorbed in this love story that transcended social boundaries. The skald, a soldier bard named Sigmund, clandestinely fueled their fascination with epic songs of forbidden love on the battlefield.

To them, Audrey symbolized their hopes and dreams. However, the older staff members, fearing a tragic end, disapproved of such a union.

Cecile’s initial impression of Audrey was far from favorable. The intensity of the Lady Captain’s gaze had been disconcerting. Even Cecile’s knight father had never displayed such ferocity during training sessions.

However, beneath her intimidating façade, Audrey proved to be warm and helpful. Cecile discovered that her powerful gaze came naturally, even when Audrey attempted to suppress it.

In time, Cecile and Audrey formed a bond. As the highest-ranking women, they became the defenders of the female staff, with Audrey assuming the role of matriarch and Cecile serving as her second. Any complaints of harassment were directed to them for resolution.

Thankfully, such incidents were infrequent in Lord Lansius’s household, where discipline was strictly upheld. The Korelian troops, unlike those in other baronies, received regular payments and supplies, which created a small but efficient force.

The peaceful environment was also a testament to Lord Lansius, who refrained from womanizing and treated his female staff respectfully.

Likewise, Lady Audrey, despite her rank and intimate relationship with the castle’s lord, integrated effortlessly with the staff. Although occasionally brusque, her behavior was likely influenced by her squire upbringing. Cecile would remind herself that Audrey was not raised to be a lady-in-waiting; she was a fighter at heart.

Once, Cecile inquired about Audrey’s decision to become a squire. Audrey recounted how her knight master, Isolte, had made that choice for her.

As a child sold off by her family, Audrey served in a baronet’s household. When a bear threatened their lands, the baronet hired Isolte, a renowned huntress, to deal with it. Unable to provide sufficient payment, the baronet offered Audrey to Isolte instead.

This practice was not unheard of. Baronets, essentially wealthier knights, often struggled financially, a fact Cecile knew well from her own family’s experiences.

Despite her hardships, Cecile found herself envying Audrey. As captain, Audrey demonstrated exceptional swordsmanship and horsemanship, outshining many of her male counterparts.

While Cecile took pride in her own equestrian skills, Audrey was in a class of her own. A few more feats would earn Audrey knighthood. Furthermore, with the lord’s affection, her future seemed secure.

However, life seldom unfolds as expected, as Cecile would later discover.

During the harsh winter months, the female staff slept together in a large, well-heated chamber, while the male staff, squires, and troops occupied the great hall. Given that Korelia was a small castle, only the lord’s chamber and the guest room possessed decent fireplaces.

One night, while they were huddled together, Audrey casually revealed her vendetta to the curious servants, a story that even Cecile hadn’t heard before.

Audrey confessed that her ultimate goal was to vanquish the beast that had slain her knight master and the rest of her group. The survivors of that disaster, mostly from the younger generation, had vowed to reunite when they came of age to hunt down the beast.

When a servant inquired about the beast’s strength, Audrey admitted that it was more than formidable; it was a monstrosity.

She also confessed her doubt about their chances of success. Audrey felt she didn’t hold a candle to her master, an extraordinary Mage Knight and a member of the Hunter Guild.

Ultimately, Audrey knew their chances of victory were slim, but she was resolute in her determination to try. Revenge or death, those were her objectives.

Cecile felt a mix of pity and envy for this female warrior. She understood that Audrey’s status as a squire and her oath stood in the way of reciprocating Lord Lansius’s advances. If Audrey were to marry him and bear his child, it would complicate the pursuit of her oath.

When Cecile asked if Lord Lansius knew, Audrey confirmed he did. As the older staff had forewarned, such relationships rarely concluded well. Their prophetic words rang true.

Winter finally gave way to spring, marked by the melting snow on the roof.

***

Cecile cleared her thoughts and knocked softly, twice. “Excuse me, my lord. It’s Cecile, your cup-bearer.”

“Come in,” came the response from within.

As she pushed open the sturdy wooden door, Cecile saw the lord in his blue doublet, absorbed in his work at the desk.

“Just a moment,” he said without lifting his gaze.

Cecile, understanding he was deep in thought, replied politely, “Yes, my lord.” Unprompted, she replaced the water jug on the table, readied a clean cup, and filled it with water. She then waited patiently.

Cecile had adjusted quickly to her new role. Her upbringing as a lady-in-waiting had prepared her well. She knew how to appear engaged while waiting, to avoid prying, and to keep her opinions to herself unless asked.

Her tutor had also cautioned her against being overly sociable, to recognize her status, and to prioritize her master above all. However, Cecile had never anticipated becoming a cup-bearer, a position of considerable influence.

A cup-bearer was a trusted confidant who not only attended to the lord but also accompanied him throughout the day. The lord valued her insight and commentary. The role signified complete trust, as a lord would only drink from a cup served by the cup-bearer.

However, Cecile’s appointment was unusual. Usually, a lord would choose a longstanding friend or someone he trusted unconditionally. It was uncommon to select someone he had never met. Initially, Cecile felt unsure about this arrangement.

She was aware that she obtained this position due to her father’s shift in loyalty to Lord Lansius. Despite this, she refused to let it discourage her. She recognized the potential it offered her house and resolved to commit wholeheartedly.

It wasn’t long before the lord finished his work. “Apologies for the wait. Please, take a seat,” he invited, approaching the table and drinking from the cup.

He preferred water in the morning and a pale ale during lunch and supper, with his only stipulation being that the water must be boiled to ensure purity.

“Have you eaten?” he asked once Cecile was seated.

“Yes, my lord. Your servant had some porridge this morning.”

“Was it good?”

She nodded politely. “It was, my lord. It was warm and hearty.”

“Ah, that’s good to hear. Umm . . . I still have some fresh bread that Sterling brought this morning. Feel free to help yourself to a slice or two.”

“Thank you, my lord, but your servant must decline.”

The lord offered a smile and settled into his seat.

Raised among nobility where social grace was paramount, Cecile could easily tell that the lord wasn’t fond of small talk. Nevertheless, he made the effort, even for a subject like her. Having spent the entire winter in his company, Cecile recognized the lord’s genuine friendliness.

Unlike many nobles who sought to exert power and control, the Lord of Korelia was approachable. He treated his subjects fairly as if they were family. The castle’s discipline was primarily maintained by Hugo, the marshal deputy, and to a lesser extent, by Audrey as the captain.

Cecile was uncertain about the arrangement’s effectiveness, but the castle staff appeared content and in high spirits.

“Today, let’s visit the workshops to check on working conditions. Let’s go incognito,” the lord announced from his seat.

“Understood, I will need to fetch my traveling cloak—”

“Yes, please do. No need to hurry. We have plenty of time,” he responded cheerfully.

“. . . But first, my lord.” Cecile paused.

The lord noticed. “Speak up. What’s on your mind?”

“Thank you, my lord. It’s about my father, Sir Callahan. Your letter when he visited Midlandia last fall, ensured that he received the best treatment possible.”

The lord nodded. “Ah, think nothing of it. It’s my duty to look after my retainers. How is he? Is he recovering well?”

“Indeed, my lord. I received a letter this morning. Father’s injury has fully healed. Before, even the chill of the night caused him pain, but now he can bear the winter like everyone else.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he replied with a smile. “You should visit him. After being confined to the castle all winter . . . Why not take a week or two off, starting tomorrow?”

Cecile was surprised by the unexpected offer.

“If the messenger managed to deliver the letter, the roads should be clear of snow by now . . . Oh, take a bag of salt, some fur, and freshly made meat products as gifts. I hope that’s enough,” the lord suggested casually as if these weren’t valuable items.

Overwhelmed, Cecile fell to her knees. “M-my lord, you’re too generous. How could we ever repay this?” She trembled. Deeply homesick, Cecile had never expected to see her home again after her appointment. Yet, she had been granted a visit last season and now another opportunity arose.

The lord was taken aback. “Please, Cecile, there’s no need for this. Stand up.”

“My lord, you arranged for a saint candidate in Midlandia to heal my father and paid for the treatment. My house and I are forever indebted to you. Please, at least let me pledge my loyalty.”

“But I already accepted your oath as cup-bearer, remember? Cecile, please stand up,” he urged her again, extending his hand, but Cecile remained kneeling.

She knew her family had never experienced such generosity. Despite the hair color and the knight status, her once-great house had fallen. Aside from her father’s horse and the armor set, they were no better than the average townsfolk in Midlandia.

The treatment by a saint candidate for her father was already a luxury, and now a considerable gift was promised. One that would easily secure her family’s livelihood for another year or two.

“I, Cecile, daughter of Sir Callahan, pledge my life in your service, my lord,” she declared solemnly.

“That’s too much, Cecile. It’s unwise,” Lansius warned her.

His disapproval surprised Cecile, who assumed her pledge had been refused.

Lansius sighed deeply. “Listen . . . we’re likely heading into war soon.”

“War, my lord?” Cecile asked, holding back tears.

“Yes, and probably against a larger force. I can’t guarantee victory, so I don’t want you to risk your life for me. Pledge it to someone you love dearly instead.”

His fatherly words deeply touched her. Lansius didn’t behave like a typical lord, eager to accept any loyalty pledge from his retainers. He genuinely cared for their well-being.

“My lord, forgive me, but even if you refuse, it’s my wish to serve you.”

The lord sighed again. “How old are you, Cecile?”

“I’m turning sixteen this year, my lord.”

“You’re too young to make such a weighty commitment. You have a long life ahead of you, and I don’t want you to have any regrets later on.”

“My lord, your words are too kind, I’m just a servant . . .”

Lansius extended his hand once more, and this time Cecile accepted. She stood up, her face flushed and eyes glistening with emotion.

“Cecile, you may rest for today. I’ll have Sterling accompany me.”

“There’s no need, my lord. I will fetch my cloak immediately.” She exited the chamber and sped to her room, her dull blond hair trailing behind her as she ran.

In the lawless province of Lowlandia, where loyalty and mercy were rare virtues, Cecile discovered a lord who stood apart from the rest. Her heart swelled with pride after pledging herself to her lord’s cause. From now on, their fates would be intertwined.

His fall would be her downfall. Cecile was determined to serve a noble who truly deserved her unwavering allegiance.

***

Chapter 42

Children from the North

The first light of dawn broke through the dark clouds, casting a soft, golden hue over the small castle. The rainfall from the previous night had ceased, leaving the air cool and fresh. Lansius stood by the window, gazing at the transformed landscape outside.

The ditches had turned into a water canal, and some sections had inadvertently created a crude-looking irrigation system. It would have been a great success if it had been intentional, but Lansius had no such plan.

Despite his insistence that it was a mere coincidence, the people of Korelia praised him, believing their lord was simply being humble.

Good things do happen sometimes.

As Lansius observed the canal-like structure, he wondered once more if the land could benefit from diverting the river stream slightly. A small man-made lake could prove advantageous, especially if it could support the fish delicacy he’d enjoyed in Torrea.

“Sterling,” Lansius called, his gaze still fixed on the window.

“Yes, my lord,” the young squire replied, bowing slightly.

“Were you present when I invited the old staff to discuss farming and fishery?”

“I believe so, my lord.”

“Please, remind me of their responses,” Lansius requested, prompting the squire to gather his thoughts before replying.

“About farming,” the squire started, “they complained about poor soil quality. They said they tried many methods, including plowing, but most of Korelia’s land remained barren.”

“But Korelia does manage to grow barley and wheat?”

“Only in the areas with the best soil, my lord.”

Lansius nodded in acknowledgment. “And the matter of fishery?”

“They informed us that the river was too shallow and with few fish. In the past, a lord attempted to dig a man-made lake, but it only resulted in a swamp and a breeding ground for undesirable insects.”

Lansius sighed softly, weighing the risks.

And they can’t use ducks to combat insects, because this world’s ducks are large, aggressive monsters, half the size of an ostrich[SL3] .

Lansius knew well about them. Only the bravest men bred ducks. Even at a few years old, ducks could trample farms and were strong enough to either jump or kick most fences. Their eggs and feathers were valuable, but sadly, their meat was difficult to cook.

The Lord of Korelia exhaled deeply. He had no experience in farming or fishery. Worse, he had no experience living in the steppe. He knew about yurts and cheese, but that was about it.

Last season, Lansius had tried consulting with Calub and Sir Callahan for assistance. They came up with several ideas but had to wait until the road cleared from mud and the rainy season.

Lansius looked at the parchment again that detailed his projected expenses for half a year. The biggest one was for the trench work, which he paid for in salt. Each worker received the equivalent of 5 copper per day for work that lasted effectively 90 days.

The combined cost of the trench work and the salt scheme was more than twice the upkeep of his army. However, he saw this as an investment and aid relief.

The second largest expense was the cost to maintain his military of 400 men-at-arms and crossbowmen. The standard rate for men-at-arms on a campaign was about 4 copper daily, including meals, while cavalrymen cost around 8 copper daily.

The previous year, Lansius and Sir Justin negotiated a standby rate that also included free lodgings and armament leases. This rate was half of the original campaign rate: 2 copper daily for each man-at-arms, including meals, and 4 copper daily for cavalrymen.

Considering that even master smiths, carpenters, and artisans only earned 4 copper daily, this was already a good living wage.

With 1.3 million copper in the coffers and 720,000 in expenses, Lansius’s current wealth was around 600,000 copper or slightly less than 2,500 gold coins.

While 2,500 gold might seem substantial, Lansius and his treasurer were far from comfortable. Their expenditures were hemorrhaging funds, threatening to drain their reserves within two years.

Feeling stumped, he turned away from the window, grabbed his fur coat, and headed to the door. “Let’s ride a little.”

“Should I ask for Lady Audrey, my lord?” asked Sterling.

Lansius almost chuckled. Audrey was still avoiding him because of what happened a few days ago. “No need, just you and a few riders.”

When the weather permitted, Lansius forced himself to ride as practice and to ensure his horses’ stamina. Spring rides were especially important because the horses were restless after spending almost the entire winter in the stable. As their rider, Lansius felt responsible for taking them out as often as he could.

***

Lansius and his squire, Sterling, rode aimlessly through the countryside, allowing their horses to find their own paths. The landscape was a mosaic of vibrant colors, with the sun casting a warm glow over the spring grassland. Their journey eventually led them to a cluster of three yurts nestled among the grazing white sheep.

A shepherd with a round face and long brown hair emerged, a welcoming smile on his face. “Welcome, guest, welcome,” he greeted them warmly, noticing their fine clothing and horses.

Lansius looked at Sterling, who rode beside him, saying, “Let’s have a rest. Tell one to be on alert. The rest can dismount.”

“Yes, my lord,” Sterling replied.

Upon hearing that, the shepherd’s reception grew even warmer. As they realized the guest was Lansius the Salt Giver, the shepherd’s family sprang into action, bustling about in a flurry of excitement.

The child dashed off to fetch water from the small stream; two women hurried to gather firewood; and an even older man, leaning on his cane, grinned happily as he held open the flap that served as their home’s door.

“Please, my lord, come in and rest. I’ll prepare fresh drinks and sweets for you,” urged the shepherd.

Lansius and Sterling dismounted. “Thank you. I just need a place to rest my legs. Don’t let me bother you.”

“Please, my lord, it’s a great honor to have you here.” The shepherd gestured politely, inviting the guest to his house.

The yurt was more spacious than it appeared. It was warm but airy and had an abundance of natural light coming in from above. The floor was covered by a combination of carpets, leather, and rugs.

Before entering, Lansius began to remove his boots to avoid tracking dirt inside, which immediately caused a commotion. The old man with a cane reached out to Lansius, attempting to stop the esteemed guest from taking off his footwear. The shepherd did the same, speaking rapidly in protest. Meanwhile, Sterling, alarmed by the sudden change in atmosphere, instinctively rested his hand on his hilt and yelled, “Don’t touch the lord, stay away!”

Seeing their reaction, Lansius laughed, defusing the confusion. Lansius was aware of the custom as he had heard dozens of stories from the staff regarding the Korelia and its culture, so he asked, “I insist on leaving my boots and entering barefoot; will that be acceptable?”

There was a back-and-forth argument, but the host, while a bit embarrassed, was exceedingly pleased. “Please, my lord, our carpet isn’t clean.”

Lansius chuckled and entered barefoot. A table and cushion were provided for him, so he sat there and made himself comfortable. Sterling quickly followed and sat beside his lord.

“Thank you for your hospitality. We brought gifts in return for your refreshments.” As Lansius said that, Sterling reached for his bag and opened it up for his lord to decide.

“My lord, please, you don’t have to,” the shepherd said bashfully.

“I insist,” Lansius said as he selected several items from the bag. “A lacquered comb for the women; salt and spices, also for the women; dried medicinal herbs for your father; and honeyed mead for our gracious host.”

Lansius’s gifts stirred up a commotion as the host initially refused them out of respect. However, Lansius knew the custom and insisted on offering the gifts.

Sterling could only blink. He had heard about the custom but had never experienced it firsthand.

As everyone settled down, the host poured a milky-gold beverage with a strong buttery aroma. With Cecile the cup-bearer on leave, Sterling did his best to scrutinize the drink. The butter tea was too rich for him, and he shook his head, not knowing whether it was safe or not.

Lansius laughed it off and drank heartily. In truth, he knew his lactose intolerance would cause issues later, but he couldn’t resist trying the unique beverage.

Just a cup . . . Oof, a bit strong smelling, but buttery smooth. Wait, a hint of tea?

Lansius realized the golden color must come from somewhere, so he inquired, “What did you use to make this?”

The host eagerly shared the ingredients. Lansius noticed dried leaves and asked for some along with boiled water, which the host happily provided.

Soon, the women and child returned and joined in the feast. They prepared the snacks over an open hearth at the center of the yurt.

Stirling, following instructions from Cecile, tried to engage in conversation on behalf of their lord. He asked about the winter, their herds, and recent news in this part of Korelia.

Though their dialect was difficult for Lansius to understand, he grasped that the winter had been milder, and spring had arrived early. The shepherd also personally thanked Lansius for his salt payments and mentioned that his brother and son were working in Korelia before winter, digging trenches and later in the workshops.

Lansius nodded happily.

The old man urged his son, the host, to bring another beverage. Lansius politely refused, but the host had brought a wineskin and poured two cups for them.

“Horse milk wine,” the old man introduced. Stirling drank it, and his face said it all, much to the host’s delight.

Lansius sampled the alcoholic drink and found it more enjoyable than anticipated. Next, the snacks were served on a large wooden platter. He chose a honey-glazed baked pastry and a tofu white crunchy morsel.

“This one is made from dried yogurt,” the host explained, noticing Lansius’s curiosity.

Lansius tasted both, finding the sweetness refreshing but not overpowering. He glanced at Stirling, who seemed thoroughly impressed by the treats.

Around that time, Lansius took the cup of boiled dried leaves and smelled it.

Definitely smells like tea.

He took a sip and was taken aback by the bitter taste.

Smells like tea, colors like tea, but tastes like burnt charcoal.

“It’s good medicine for a long night with the ladies,” the host informed, and everyone burst into laughter.

As they enjoyed their snacks, the host prepared steamed dumplings filled with minced meat. When they were ready, Lansius accepted one graciously. He let it cool briefly before taking a bite, finding the mutton flavor quite strong but managing to swallow it down, pleasing the host.

A sauce would be perfect for this . . .

Soon, a vegetable dish with dried meat on the side was served.

“Well, this has certainly turned into a big feast,” Lansius remarked, bringing a smile to his host’s face.

...

After the feast, as a parting gift, the host opened one of his wooden boxes and pulled out two remarkably lightweight shawls. “A modest gift for your men,” he said, presenting the shawls to Lansius for him to bestow upon his men.

Intrigued by the quality of the shawls, Lansius furrowed his brow. “Why for my men?” he asked, examining the delicate, warm, yet strong fabric and its astonishing lightness. “Such a gift is fit for a lord.”

The host shook his head modestly. “I wouldn’t dare, my lord. These shawls are worn only by nomad families like us.”

The subject was of great interest to Lansius, so he dared to ask, “Friend, I apologize if this may offend you. Could you tell me about your family history?”

The shepherd appeared uncertain but glanced at the old man, who nodded, granting permission. “Our great-grandfather came from the Caladan Sea in the north.”

“The northern sea of grass.” Lansius acknowledged the name.

The host nodded and continued. “He and many of his relatives were enslaved during a raid, and somehow, they were smuggled this far south to Lowlandia. They labored for the old lord in Korelia, who granted them their freedom on his deathbed.”

Lansius nodded respectfully, taking in the story.

“Now, we’re free, but not exactly welcomed to live in the town, so we live as our ancestors did, on the pastoral lands, grazing and dwelling in our yurts.”

Discrimination is rampant everywhere, even when they have the same skin color as Sterling. It’s simply because they’re different.

“How many of you live like this?” Lansius asked.

“Now, there are at least a hundred families,” the old man replied proudly. “Many more than when I was a child.”

Lansius was pleased to hear this. He had always thought that Korelia felt like a colony, with its people trying hard to live like those in Midlandia, but the land and climate were entirely different.

Here, it was more suitable for a pastoral lifestyle, and seeing these shepherds thrive confirmed his view.

With the quality of the shawls lingering in his mind and sensing a potential trade opportunity to elevate all of Korelia, Lansius made his decision. “I would like to meet as many tribes as possible for a discussion. Perhaps a grand banquet on the west side of the castle. What do you think?”

The old man seemed surprised. “We will do as we are told. The land belongs to you. But what would you ask of us?”

“Be at peace. I won’t ask for tax or tribute. I want to talk about friendship and trade among our people. I sincerely believe it would benefit everyone.”

The old man smiled. “There’s an old saying that unity is the ultimate strength. My family and I will do our best to send your invitations to the other tribes.”

Lansius nodded and extended his hand. Without hesitation, the old man grasped it firmly to seal the deal. As the sun cast golden rays over the plains of Korelia, Lansius found an unexpected ally in his quest to defend his realm.

The newfound bond signaled a crumbling of old barriers and the dawn of a new era of trust. Spring had arrived, and summer, bringing with it the threat of wars and sieges, was fast approaching.

***

This is the end of book 1

Next Chapter 🔥

Appendix

Timeline

Elven Calendar 4422

In an era marked by rising tensions and escalating raids, Viscount Karius, the formidable Lord of Inglesia, committed the ultimate act of aggression. He crossed the Great River and launched a large-scale attack on the jewel of the Arvena province—the city of Riverstead. Despite Lord Maurice of Arvena’s attempts to fortify the city, even sending his own son to bolster its defenses, Riverstead fell prey to Karius’s surprise assault.

The High Lords viewed this as an overt act of hostility and aimed to censure the Lord of Inglesia. However, the Imperium’s archaic bureaucracy, slow and unresponsive, sought to label the incident as a minor border squabble among its vassal lords.

This attempt was a bid to preserve a semblance of peace within a realm already besieged by wars, particularly the western front’s ongoing struggle against nomadic incursions.

Unwilling to wait for the Imperium’s response, Lord Maurice mustered his forces and marched them to Ceresia on the eve of winter. There, he waited and launched a winter attack, which took Karius’s men by surprise and turned the tides of war. Karius was swiftly dislodged from Riverstead and forced to flee, with Lord Maurice’s men hot on their heels.

Elven Calendar 4423

Last year, unwilling to wait for the Imperium’s response, Lord Maurice mustered his forces and marched them to Ceresia on the eve of winter. There, he waited and launched a daring winter attack, which took Karius’ men by surprise and turned the tides of war.

Lord Karius was swiftly dislodged from Riverstead and forced to flee, with Lord Maurice’s men hot on their heels. However, even with the arrival of spring, the tensions remained unresolved. Lord Karius stubbornly resisted all offers of truce, seemingly engaging in negotiations merely to buy time.

Lord Maurice, out of an abundance of caution, secured a fortress to guard against any potential reinforcements. Despite his precaution, nobody suspected that an alliance had formed between Lord Karius and Margrave Gottfried.

The formidable margrave, ruler of four northern Brigandia provinces, had previously clashed with Karius, making their sudden alliance a surprise. The specifics of their agreement were unclear, yet one thing was certain: Karius had set a trap for Maurice.

Karius had successfully lured Maurice out of Riverstead, giving Gottfried and his formidable army the opportunity to cross the Great River and launch a devastating attack on the city. The situation rapidly escalated into a crisis for Maurice and his men, whose escape route was effectively cut off.

Promissia Continent

The Third Human Imperium encompasses a vast region that includes (starting from 9 o’clock) Sarmatia, Centuria, Arminia, Brigandia, Arvena, Rhomelia, Midlandia, and Lowlandia, as well as the territories of Nicopola, Halicia, and Ekionia.

Each province within the Third Human Imperium is vast, with some, like Midlandia, rivaling half the size of Western Europe. Thus, they don’t have resource or living space issues. The Imperium’s governance and structure evoke a Roman Empire that survived into the Medieval Era.

Lords govern the provinces, acting much like Roman governors, traditionally commanding at least a legion of six thousand men. However, in this story’s setting, the relative peace that has lasted for 1300 years has reduced these numbers. Right now, even a high-ranking lord like Earl Maurice of Arvena has only two thousand men at his disposal.

Nomadic people, the Mercantile Kingdom, and the Navalnia Empire are human but not part of the Imperium.

The Beastman Confederati is self-explanatory.

The World, Aqua Terra

The biodiversity of this world varies greatly from that of Earth, making the local flora and fauna rather unique. To avoid confusion, I’ve largely omitted these details from the narrative, as they don’t significantly impact the plot. Moreover, Lansius, our protagonist, is neither a botanist nor an avid animal expert. So, he didn’t know the subtle differences.

However, one noticeable difference that he is aware of is the duck and chickens of this world. The birds here are enormous, about half the size of an ostrich. They’re dangerous, cruel, and almost demonic in nature. Imagine a wild ostrich, or cassowary.

Their eggs are large and rich in nutrients, but their meat is tough and difficult to prepare. These birds are typically slaughtered at a young age and their meat is primarily consumed by nobility.

As for the commoners, they mostly consume lamb or mutton and occasionally goat. Beef is also a staple, albeit less frequent.

Also, the carrots are mostly purple and banana is unappetizing because of the lack of selective breeding.

Lastly, despite rumors of fell beasts lurking in the ancient forests of the Promissia Continent, there have been no reports of such creatures wandering the plains or urban areas. Goblins and trolls have been absent for thousands of years because, over the course of 4,000 years, humans have hunted these creatures, pushing them to the far corners of the continent.

Contact with goblins and other fell beasts predominantly occurs on the old Progentia Continent, which is separated from Promissia by vast oceans.

Language

Common tongue is rough-hewn and direct. Words were utilitarian tools, not elegant and well-articulated. Conversation was a matter of conveying necessity, not crafting poetry. The more polite and formal the conversation, the stiffer it became.

Instead of thank you, they used Gratitude.

Instead of sorry, they used I apologize, or Apology.

It’s something to emulate crude Latin feeling, mixed with old English. On an interesting note, if the conversation is formal, they usually use stiffer language. If they begin to get more comfortable, they’ll slip into more normal language.

Both maester and the more modern master can be traced to the Latin magister—a master or a teacher. This title was bestowed in the Middle Ages upon a person of authority, who had obtained a license.

In the story, they are almost interchangeable, with a small caveat. Maester/meister is used to address the professional, be it smiths, bakers, artisans, craftsmen, or scribe/clerk.

Meanwhile, master is only used to address a superior.

Magic

Magic is scarce and highly regulated, meaning only the high nobility employs these powerful individuals. Most commoners don’t know about the extent of what mages can do aside from them being powerful.

What commoners do know is about the Healers Guild existence in big cities. The guild cloisters gifted individuals they name saint candidates. These people can cure injuries and maladies with healing magic. However, the healing process takes a lot of time and effort, so their services (naturally since this is a feudal era) are reserved for nobility and patrons of the guild.

The price for healing is a donation, and it starts at multiple gold coins’ worth of donations. So, it’s mostly off-limits to commoners.

Blond Hair

The majority of the Imperium’s populace, including its nobility, predominantly have brown hair. However, this changed centuries ago when the Imperium conquered the northern Kingdom of Brigandia, whose kings and nobles were known for their blond hair.

Following the subjugation, Imperium nobles often married Brigandian aristocrats and brought them back to their own territories. As these unions sometimes resulted in offspring with golden hair, the color began to carry a noble connotation, particularly in other regions of the Imperium.

Currency

1 gold = 20 silver

1 silver = 12 Copper

1 copper = 12-14 iron (inflation)

The Great River

The Great River is so large that no bridge is possible, and everyone must use water transport to cross.

The Great River is relatively calm because it’s mostly inland. Thus, river boats with simple flat hulls are typically used for trade and transport.

Squireship

A squireship is akin to an apprenticeship, serving both educational and occupational roles. Thus, if a squire loses his master, he remains a squire, much like a carpenter would remain a carpenter—or an apprentice carpenter, depending on skill level—even after losing his own master.

Many squires became influential in villages because squires tend to be educated and closer to the nobility than commoners. Over time, they may become landowners and part of the gentry class.

If a squire loses their master, they have the option to pay and apply to serve another master. Alternatively, if they feel they have sufficient education and are not aiming for a career in knighthood—since knighthood is expensive—they can find employment. People can work in different capacity within a noble household with a squire diploma. And it’s considered normal and successful to retire as a squire.

***