Picture: Lords of Lowlandia.
From left to right: Sir Michael, Sir Arius (Crimson Knights), Lord Evander of Galdia, Lord Jorge of Three Hills, Lord Robert of White Lake
The Great Keep's Hall
Hearing Lansius ask whether they should act or let Edessa fall into Navalnia’s hands, leaving their own lands exposed afterward, the command staff and members of the Shogunate quietly looked at the map again.
Sir Michael did not look eager to answer. Instead, he leaned toward Lady Astrid at his side and murmured a few words to her.
Calub was no soldier. Despite his position as administrator of Korelia, he usually refrained from speaking on crucial military matters. He did not want to be the one to decide a question that would send men to die.
Cecile kept quiet. She was the chamberlain, but she knew this matter was beyond her depth. Household affairs were her strength, not military ones. Moreover, she preferred to offer her suggestions discreetly.
The red-haired girl, Lady Ella, was the youngest in the meeting. She watched and learned, knowing she had much to gain from her seniors.
Meanwhile, the Lord of Galdia had been a warring lord for decades. His son had fought under the banner of the Blue and Bronze during the Midlandia campaign. Yet Galdia remained the lesser member in this alliance. Dawn had joined after him, but Lady Ella had brought airships, wealth, and a far larger domain. Galdia had far less to offer, and he did not want to shame himself by supporting a campaign he could barely contribute to.
Watching their reaction, Lansius realized he was facing an uphill battle to convince his council to act.
He had guided them to see the larger danger, that Midlandia and Lowlandia were tied to Edessa, whether they liked it or not. If Edessa fell, the threat would come for them next.
Yet while his staff and allies seemed to understand, and likely agreed with him, no one was certain about sending men to fight another lord’s war. Moreover, no one wanted to bear the blame if this turned into a spectacular mistake. Everyone in the alliance had their standing to protect.
Giving them more time to consider, Lansius turned to Calub and asked in a calmer voice, “Master Calub, you were once an explorer.”
“I was, My Lord.”
“Can you tell us more about the Emperor of Navalnia, from what you learned in your journeys?”
“Unfortunately, I never visited the Navalnian Empire,” Calub replied. “I only know the stories I heard during my time in the Mercantile Kingdom.”
“Can you share them with us?” Lansius asked.
Calub pondered for a moment. “They say the current Emperor is shrewd. Even in old age, he has only grown more lethal. The cutthroat nobles of Navalnia practically dance in his palm. For the first time in decades, they are mostly united.”
Lansius stroked his chin, muttering, “He sounds competent.”
Sir Michael was quick to agree. “From what I have gathered from travelers, the Emperor with the golden nose is not to be trifled with.”
Lansius gave a nod. He had heard a story or two. In his younger days, the current Emperor had been caught in a power struggle and had his face mutilated. Yet he eventually triumphed. Such a man was certainly more dangerous than most nobles Lansius had fought.
The short discussion stirred something in the Lord of Galdia, who asked, “But are we certain he will join this war?”
“That's it,” Sir Michael blurted out, then addressed the room. “They still have a history of infighting and instability. I doubt he would risk himself by leaving the capital. He must have kept a portion of his army for himself.”
Lansius’ counter came quickly. “Are you suggesting that the Navalnian Emperor is not involved, yet Edessa still lost twenty cities in just a few weeks of fighting? Surely the bulk of his elites participated in one way or another.”
Hearing the rebuttal, Sir Michael hesitated to respond.
When no answer came, Lady Ella spoke. “When we fought the impostor King Nico, he was always with his troops, since his was a newly established kingdom. But I don't think a much older empire requires its Emperor to personally lead the war.”
The guard captain chuckled. “The young lady is right. Even our own Ageless did not take part in many of the famous wars that liberated the north and south.”
Sir Michael exhaled, accepting the correction without protest.
His response led Lansius to address the hall. “So, the question remains. Do we extend our hand, or let them die?”
Many eyes turned to Sir Michael, who could find no argument.
Not wishing Sir Michael to shoulder the burden alone, Calub spoke. “There is another issue. War, I believe, must bring gain. Helping the Margrave might protect us, but it guarantees no payment.”
Finding the point amusing, the young scribe jested, “The Shogunate should not play the hero. We already have plenty of problems of our own.”
Hearing it, even Lansius snorted. “An excellent take,” he admitted.
“We're also likely to fight slaves,” the Lord of Galdia warned. “There will be little ransom to take. Worse, I doubt the Margrave will reward us either.”
“We will have to make do with their baggage train. It should be substantial,” Lansius said, though he knew how thin that sounded.
It did not need to be said that capturing the baggage train required a major victory. To assume they would win big against a force that large was overconfidence. They would be fortunate enough to help the defenders hold longer and force the attacker to withdraw.
Even knowing this, the Lord of Galdia simply nodded. He turned to the one-eyed knight. “Sir Michael,” he called, “since you argued strongly against this, it would be best if you gave us your honest judgment. Do you still oppose it?”
Sir Michael turned toward him with a slight tilt of his head. “Even if it was not directed against my House, I still cannot forgive the Margrave for using assassins. On the other hand, I cannot find fault in Lord Shogun’s thinking. It is better that we fight in their land than in ours.”
The older lord, half in jest, said, “We can help without giving forgiveness.”
That drew many eyes upon him.
“I say we embrace our Lowlandian tradition,” the older lord explained. “The Margrave isn't an ally. It is only fitting that we extend him our old ways. Surely he wouldn't mind if we took some of his land as a token of gratitude. Say, several finely crafted and beautifully fortified cities near our border, to serve as supply depots. Unfortunately, they would be far too vital to return after the war, since they would be critical if Navalnia attacked again.”
Sir Michael nodded eagerly, as if struck by revelation.
Calub and the others also seemed to find merit in the strategy. It would allow the Shogunate to benefit instead of coming home empty-handed.
“Lord of Galdia,” Sir Michael remarked, “you truly are a son of the steppes."
The older lord chuckled at the praise.
Slowly, they all turned to Lansius, who already wore a thin, satisfied smile.
No wonder he joined the Shogunate when it was still nothing but a distant dream. He thinks so far ahead.
“Lord of Galdia,” Lansius remarked, “your wisdom is sharper than a Centurian blade. You may have just added several cities to the Shogunate. Whether the Margrave wins or loses, we will still gain them.”
“Please, just call me Evander. My gratitude for such kind words.”
Lansius nodded, amused.
The tension in the room lessened. A great hurdle had been overcome.
Then he turned to the others and declared, “We will do as Lord Evander suggested for the second part of this war.”
“Second part?” Lord Evander asked, curiosity rising.
Lansius did not answer at once. Instead, he looked to the guard captain and instructed, “Ask the guards to close the doors.”
...
As the doors were shut and the corridor outside fell quiet, Lansius rose from his seat and, for the first time, approached the long table with the map.
“Come closer,” he said to the rest of the staff.
They gathered around him. Lansius began, “For us, the war will have two parts. The second part is what Lord Evander just suggested, likely in summer, after we receive word from our spies and know when their main army will arrive.”
“And the first part?” Lord Evander asked.
“The first part is the time between now and the arrival of their main army.”
“The part where we rush to send the relief force, I see,” Lord Evander assumed. “Then how many would we send?”
Lansius let out a thin smile. “None.”
Everyone exchanged glances, confused.
Lord Evander chuckled, finding it absurd, but eager for an explanation. “An uncommon strategy, then. Let’s hear it.”
The rest were also eager to learn more about his strategy.
To them, Lansius simply said, “We send word to Edessa that a great force is coming to help them.”
As expected, the staff was underwhelmed by his explanation.
Unbothered, Lansius said, “Make no mistake. Hope is a powerful thing for men fighting a defensive war.”
His staff did not take his words at face value. It sounded too vague, too thin to stand on. Even his scribe looked dumbfounded.
When everyone seemed to think that was all, Lansius explained, “Imagine defending a castle with brutal fighting every day. Days pass in hunger as the food runs low. No help comes. Casualties mount. You are wounded, and so are your men. There are no more bolts. Swords and spears are broken. The stores keep shrinking. Would you still be willing to fight for several more months?” He shook his head. “I doubt it.”
Many in the hall began to see the weight behind his words.
“However, what if you hear that help is coming?” Lansius posed. “A great force, even. And you know it's true because the men slipping through the enemy lines in the dark of night have been bringing in more supplies, along with more tales of help on the way.”
Many in the hall nodded, beginning to understand his intent.
“If the Edessans believe help is coming, they will fight harder. Cities, towns, and castles will be less willing to surrender.”
As Lansius’ explanation ended, Sir Michael felt the stares and glances settle on him. They were waiting for his reaction. “Indeed. It is only natural to keep fighting if you know help is coming.”
Lansius turned to the one-eyed knight across the table and said, “They may even fight to the bitter end, and that serves us well.”
His grim remark drew everyone’s attention.
Lansius drove the point further. “I will not bleed our men while Edessa can still fight.”
That remark satisfied many. A few nodded eagerly. Either their concerns had been answered, or they thought it was a good plan.
Facing no interruption, Lansius continued, “In the first stage, what crosses into Edessa from our side will be supplies and weapons. There will be escorts, riders, and the necessary officers to ensure they reach their destination and to make the promise of help believable. They will be too few to draw the Margrave’s suspicion, but enough to earn the trust of the populace. This will be useful in the second stage.”
His staff and allies received his explanation. It was far better than what they had imagined. With this, they would have time to prepare, and the cost was nothing but a promise and some supplies. When they finally intervene, they could advance toward the nearest Edessan cities, then quietly take control under the pretext of securing their supplies for the war.
Even if Edessa failed to hold, those cities could become crucial strongholds against the Navalnia Empire.
Things were turning promising.
Lansius could see his staff and allies growing more receptive. A few remained guarded, but even they could not dismiss the reasoning.
Without needing to ask, Lansius knew his plan for the crisis in Edessa had been accepted.
At its heart were two principles from the Art of War.
To wait at ease while the enemy toiled and struggled was the art of husbanding one’s strength.
And when the time was right, rested troops would strike tired ones.
***
Lansius
With the meeting adjourned, the scribes began drafting the necessary letters, calculating supplies, and sorting through a dozen urgent tasks. The main issue left was whether Lansius could lead them through this crisis.
Even speaking as he had done had drained him inside. Something was wrong. Lansius could feel it. For now, all he could do was seek a change of scenery.
“Calub,” he called before the alchemist-governor could leave.
“My Lord.” The alchemist came closer.
Lansius quietly pulled Calub to the side. “Can I ask Cecile to accompany me for a ride?”
“Of course. She’s your chamberlain,” Calub replied without hesitation. Then he added, with a touch of jest, “But return her before supper.”
The two shared a friendly chuckle.
“Let’s have supper together, the two families. How about it?” Lansius suggested.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Filling a hungry belly.”
Calub snorted. “Sure, sure,” he answered readily, pleased that it was nothing formal. “I’ll bring ale, then. The castle just received a fresh delivery.”
“Splendid.”
Calub turned to Cecile and motioned for her to come closer. The blonde, fair, and a joy to look at, came toward them. As she did, he said, “The Lord misses his cupbearer.”
“Ara...?”
Lansius assumed a formal posture and asked in gentlemanly fashion, “Lady, how about a ride to the western plains? I need some fresh air. Also, I need to listen to something unrelated to this eastern mess.”
Cecile let out a smile and answered, “Certainly. Then I shall arrange the escort.”
“Gratitude.” Lansius then went to his chamber and hoped they had not forgotten his old riding suit.
He met Audrey along the way in the corridor, and she fell into step beside him. She gave him an approving nod. “Have a nice ride.”
“And where did you hear about that?” he asked lightly.
She gave him a smug little smile. “I have ears everywhere.”
“Do these ears happen to be pointy and furry?”
Audrey stifled a chuckle.
“You’re not complaining that I didn’t ask you for a ride?” he asked.
“Well, I’m a bit busy. We promised to release the Hunter in the dungeon, right?”
“Ah, yes. I almost forgot.”
“Now that we know these Hunters truly fight those corrupted creatures, we can’t let this one rot in the dungeon, misguided or not. I’ll have a Hunter agent escort him to Gregoria Castle after he takes a vow.”
“Gregoria Castle, huh...”
“Yeah, it feels good that we don’t need to mention the Monastery anymore.”
Lansius gave a thoughtful nod. “Just be careful. He’s dangerous.”
“I’ll have several half-kin with me. He’ll be shackled in iron, and I’ll bring the Thunderforged.”
“The lich’s scepter?” Lansius shuddered. “Are you sure it’s not enchanted with anything foul?”
“We’ve scrubbed it clean,” she said. “Also, at its core, it’s dwarven-made. I don’t think even the Saint could do anything to it.”
“Drey, she corrupted our Great Gemstone.”
“That was hardly a weapon. The Thunderforged is vastly different.”
Lansius exhaled wearily. “I trust your judgment. But return it to the metal chest after you’re done.”
“As you wish, My Lord.”
“Good.”
The two stopped as they reached the stairs. He returned to their earlier topic. “You’re sure you’re not jealous that I’m riding without you?”
Hearing that, Audrey couldn’t resist a giggle. She met his eyes and gave him her best smug smile. “Should I, Lansius? Should I?”
Watching her playful like that, Lansius could only snort. Her confidence was strong.
She even teased, “You know, if you like blondes—”
“Don’t. I like a short-haired woman who can break my bones with a claymore.”
A grin formed on her lips. “That reminds me. We have not inspected the training hall in this Great Keep.”
Lansius quickly faked a cough, and did it so well that it almost sounded real. “Ah, look at the time. We'd better hurry before supper.”
Audrey’s look only grew more amused.
“I presume you already heard about my invitation to Calub,” he added.
Audrey gave a nod. “Yes. I met Cecile briefly. Then I’ll arrange a private supper.”
“Then I’ll see you after the ride.”
...
Lansius and Cecile, accompanied by a dozen mounted guards, SAR members, and two half-kin, rode to the western grassland. The guards kept a loose outer ring while the SAR members stayed closer, with the half-kin ranging ahead and along the flanks.
The sun was already low, leaving him no time to reach the nomads’ first trading post. But he only needed some air, somewhere his lungs could breathe to the fullest. The grassland carried the dry scent of late autumn, of dust, trampled grass, and the faint chill before evening.
Once they had ridden far enough, Lansius let his palfrey slow to a walk.
“Being here reminds me of when I first started,” Lansius remarked as their two horses walked side by side. “Back then, I was thoroughly clueless about how to even act like a noble. Thinking back, I made a lot of silly mistakes.”
Cecile chuckled softly. “There’s no reason to be ashamed, My Lord. You’re the best nobleman I know.”
“That’s just sweet talk.”
“I don’t say that to flatter you,” she replied. “You have always tried to care for your men and your people. You do not think first of wealth or family advantage. You often think of the lowborn and try to ease their suffering, even when there is nothing to gain. That is not something people forget.”
Lansius felt himself relax.
There was a special bond between a new lord and his first cupbearer. She had practically risked herself to care for him, and in return, he had given her his utmost trust. Had she wished it, poisoning him would have been easy.
Even now, Lansius felt her care for him was more than he deserved.
What made it strange was that such a bond was usually reserved for old friends, for people who had known and trusted each other for years. But Cecile and Lansius had not known each other at all. They had met by chance.
Thinking of all the challenges they had endured, the battles they had nearly fought and survived, and how she had stayed true through it all, Lansius could be sure that her words were genuine.
Audrey was his beloved. Calub was his friend. Cecile was his confidante.
They continued to ride. The grassland had turned yellow, and flocks of sheep were being driven toward their pens. Farther off, he saw several barns newly built outside the town.
“It looks like Korelia has gained a new village,” he remarked.
“Yes. There is one on the west side, and four on the east side.”
“That many?” Lansius was rather surprised.
“There are plenty of people moving to Korelia. Herders and farmers. Horse breeders, too. We even have new duck breeders from South Hill.”
Lansius chuckled. “I should bring the Canardia race ducks here.”
Cecile turned curious. “Are they really fast?”
“They eat men," he replied bluntly.
She gasped. “My Lord, are they the rumored war ducks I read about in the reports?”
Lansius nodded, rather proud but awkward. “The ducks saved many of our people. For good or bad, they’re now part of the army.”
“Then please bring them here,” Cecile said excitedly. “I believe the Lowlandians can breed them just as well.”
“Certainly. I’ll arrange something. Just remind me when we’re back at the Great Keep.”
“Certainly, My Lord.”
They continued to ride, feeling the gusts of cool wind. Winter was indeed approaching.
...
“Your hair is a bit long, My Lord. Should I schedule the barber for you?” she asked after they signaled the mounted guards and half-kin that they were turning back toward the city.
“Ah, really?” Lansius had not noticed his hair.
“Yours grows slowly, so it must be hard to notice.”
“True, it has been a while.”
“I see more white too,” Cecile said, her expression softening with sympathy.
Lansius chuckled. “There are so many things happening. I just couldn’t get enough rest.”
“I truly wish you could spend more time for yourself. To live freely.” Then she added, “Sometimes I envy the nomads. The life they lead seems happy. Unburdened.”
He understood the sentiment well. Lansius looked up at the sky and the vast grassland around them. Sometimes, it felt foolish for men to burden themselves so much when they could live so freely. Yet he knew it would be irresponsible.
“It seems duty has chained us tightly," he remarked.
Cecile gave no response.
He gazed at her. “Do you ever regret following me?”
“Never, My Lord. I wouldn’t trade it, even if I had to repeat it all. Perhaps only my father’s passing.”
The face of his late mentor rose in his mind. “May he forever hunt with the Ancients.”
Slowly, the western city wall returned into view. Still under construction, it had nearly reached its intended height. Its surface glistened under the waning sun, while long shadows stretched across the ground below.
“Lord Bengrieve has given me a new title. Have you heard?” Lansius asked.
“The title of Count. It oozes with venom, but is glazed with honey,” she answered without hesitation.
“Do you think I should take it?”
“I would never recommend taking poison, but the prestige is too hard to resist. My Lord, you cannot be a baron forever, and without an Emperor, this might be your only chance.”
It was a practical answer, enough to make Lansius remark, “A fancy title for a man who only tries to survive from one disaster to another.”
Cecile met his gaze, looking almost affronted. “But you are the most prolific conqueror of our time,” she disagreed. “Your growth has humbled other powerful lords. In terms of land, only the Northern King, with four provinces, is your equal.”
Hearing it from her was almost the same as hearing the opinion of the lower staff.
“I’m far from the strongest,” he said at once.
Cecile turned her gaze to the plains, muttering, “That is not for you to decide.”
Seeing her like that, Lansius asked, “Does the House take offense when its Lord speaks that way?”
“Of course. The Blue and Bronze is not a single house, but a collection of hundreds. We are all bound to you, just like any Lowlandian who lives under your banner.”
“My apology, then.”
“Apology accepted,” she answered, now with a smile.
Soon, they could see the city gate and the crowd returning to the city, each person having their identity checked.
“Is it always a crowd like this?” he remarked.
“It is. Aside from the locals traveling daily, Korelia has seen more merchants and visitors.”
“Visitors?”
“You might not have heard this, My Lord, but we have people who visit just to see where you live.”
Lansius found it odd. “Where I live? But why?”
“They are called pilgrims. They have been visiting Korelia since the end of summer. They travel in groups, small and large. They tell stories about you and your achievements and ask for more. The people welcome them. Everyone loves to hear a good story.”
“The pilgrims? Midlandians? They’re here?” Lansius was surprised. To travel through the Great Plains was no small feat.
Cecile narrowed her eyes and corrected him. “My Lord, before the Midlandians, the Lowlandians were first.”
“Pardon?”
“Before the Midlandians, the Korelians already spoke of you as if you were a hero of old. Some even say you are something greater.”
That struck Lansius hard enough that he swallowed dryly. He asked weakly, “H-how many do you reckon believe this?”
“I wouldn’t say believe. But I think half the troops who went into the Midlandian campaign think that way. Also, the maids and servants clearly feel the same.”
Lansius sighed deeply. “Of them all, the castle staff have seen me bruised and bleeding. I grow hungry and eat like any normal man. Why worship someone like me...”
“The results speak for themselves. You united Lowlandia, brought half-kin into our land and made them allies, conquered Midlandia, and even defeated a horde of undead. And that is not even all you have done for the people. Even this dingy little town, far from anywhere, has become the capital of two provinces. Even I would be hard-pressed not to believe.”
Lansius stared at her, wanting to see if she was jesting, but Cecile stared back at him with patient eyes, much like her father had done years ago.
He drew another sigh, muttering, “Unbelievable...”
Cecile stifled her giggle.
All the talking and riding had soothed his mind somewhat. The open air had helped, and Cecile’s company had loosened the knot in his chest. Yet the heaviness behind his eyes remained.
At first, Lansius thought it was only fatigue. The council, the news from Edessa, the weight of another war, all of it had worn him thin. But the feeling did not pass. It sat deep inside him, sharp and wrong.
Finding no clear cause, he could only hope that a short sleep before supper would set him right.
He blinked several times and drew a slow breath. The wind was cool, the horse’s gait even, the path clear before him.
Lansius continued northeast, heading toward the castle where he would return Cecile to Calub. Suddenly, a sharp throb struck behind his eye, forcing him to wince. When he looked again, the dusk still lay blue and gold over the land. Then his gaze caught the castle, blood red beneath the waning light.
Struck by surprise, he pressed his fingers to the skin beneath his eyes, but found nothing. When he opened them again, his right eye saw the dusk in blue and gold. But through his left, the world was drowned in red.
***
PS: Finally had the time to make picture for the Lords of Lowlandia.
What do you think about Lansius’ plan in Edessa? It’s based on an actual strategy from Sun Tzu and was used several times during the Warring States era, with some variations.
Also, I hope everyone remembers who Cecile is.😅
Next chapter: Winter and Elven Year 4427.
As always, gratitude for supporting Horizon of War! 💎💖🦆