“The Commonwealth victory at Halidon’s hill is today considered the most excellent triumph of the airship, and its role as more than a tool for scouting, burning fleets and cities and preventing the enemy from doing the same was finally proven in the minds of even the most ardent skeptics. Today, our airship service is well regarded by both the army and the wetship navy, enjoys just as much prestige and repute, and any great power worth it’s name must have fleets of frigates, destroyers, bombardiers and eyries just as much as it must have armies and sea navies.”
Rear Air Admiral Rhiannon Blys, A History of Air Tactics.
Hans Draiger, 29 September 1582 AAA. Kasilisk.
He was glad to be finally free of Kasilisk. As pleasant as the city looked from a distance, up close it was crowded, noisy and rancid, and the only escape was to hole up in Corentin’s also crowded and noisy(but at least not rancid) manor house.
The ride out to the Halidon’s Hill battlefield was only a few hours if one didn’t bring coaches. Unfortunately, they had brought coaches, so it was a day long slog, perched on Eidre’s coach like crows on a reapers back when they weren’t helping to haul it out of the mud. Most of the delegates, alongside their gaggles of servants, children, and spouses, had come along for the trip.
He could see a pair of Commonwealth airships, flying high and slow, silhouetted against the clear skies, guarding against both wyvern and Carfani. A small pack of harpies flew closer, the small dragons probably prowling for lambs and hatchling reapers to take. Beneath them was the vast pastoral sweep of Kasilisk’s outskirts, a patchwork of farmlands and pasture broken up by fences, hedges and creeks with high mountains to the south, hazy from distance.
Eidre was riding on horseback as she always did, her rapier and dagger strapped to her waist, over her riding skirts. He glanced back at the coach behind them, hired by Mato Calwere. The patriot’s brigade leader was leaning out of the window, talking to a bald, burly, outlandishly dressed man riding alongside his coach. He had a sabre on his belt, and a long hafted warhammer on his saddle.
“Who’s that?” Hans said, instantly suspicious.
Eidre glanced up at him.
“Some man Traharn Hast sent as a representative. Not a delegate, though.”
“Is he an Arl-“
“Yes.” Eidre said, cutting him off.
Hans felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. One of the killers was most likely riding only meters away from him. He unconsciously patted his coat, reassuring himself that he had knife in place, not that it would do much good in a serious fight, and he felt Uln tense up besides.
“That’s him. One of the killers, most likely.” Hans whispered to Uln.
“Only one, though.” Uln said. “And we already know who led them. Traharn Hast.”
“Don’t close the net until all the fish are in it.” Hans said.
“Aye.”
He settled back into the coach , letting Uln lean her head into his shoulder, then was jolted away as the coach hit a rut. He hated riding the bloody things, but it was better than being left behind on foot or being stuck in Kasilisk.
He could see the crest of the ridge off in the distance, the hulk of a burned out manor silhouetted against the horizon. The manor of Bran Kerouc; he’d fought and died alongside the militia and commonwealth troop in that manor, anchoring the left flank of the Carfani line.
The Teresians had eventually resorted to storming it with Wolzuks, ferocious Woose mercenaries from the Zehanion mountain range on the continent, who’d fought off human invaders and built first farms then towns then cities. Bran had died as his manor burned to the ground around him.
They reached the hill, a paved road leading up to it. The shattered hulk of the manor had never been rebuilt or cleared, though the rest of the countryside was covered with farms and patches of forest as though nothing of note had happened there. The climb was hard work, though better than on flat ground; the meltwater washed downhill, meaning the worst of the mud was at the base of the hill.
As they reached the crest, the delegates at the front began to dismount, some of them bringing out blankets and baskets of food. Hans almost had to laugh at the idea of a picnic on a battleground.
Eidre quickly joined with a group of gentry nearby. He knew what she’d be doing; first socializing, then trying to work them around to the topic of the wyverns and try to flip them to her side. Hans didn’t have the patience, the tact or the status for that sort of thing. Instead, he grabbed a few slices of ham for himself from the food Eidre had brought for the servants, passed a few more to Uln, and set off for the lower slopes of the hill, Uln following after him. More than a few eyes were on his back. He’d never liked being watched. It reminded him of back in the silver rush, when he was a boy, when people had started noticing how much time he was spending with Uln. He perched himself on the fenceline that stood where the old abatis had been, not wanting to get his breeches wet on the remaining snow.
He began nibbling on the ham. The airships they’d seen earlier off in the distance were circling them, he realized, probably curious about the gathering on the hillside.
“Wonder is those are the same two ships that were out at West Point” Uln said.
He squinted at them, trying to make out the names flying from their trailing flags. He couldn’t make them out; he normally had to take rarer words one letter at a time, and that was impossible anyway, with the ships a few miles distant and the flags snapping in the wind.
They sat for a while longer, watching the airships and the world beneath them: A vast sweep of farmland, the mountains off in the distance. A lone airship rib poked out of a field far away, it’s shape unmistakable, overgrown with moss. More than once, he shut his eyes, halfway expecting to see the last whispers of dead souls around him. They faded in hours, truly, but there were always whispers that a skilled enough witch could see them years past.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Finally a priest-scholar in a silken cassock got their attention with a handheld bell. The delegates and their hanger-ons gathered around him.
“We’d best join them. Don’t want to look faithless” Uln said, rolling her eyes. Hans laughed in agreement, then clambered down from the fence, and gathered round.
He’d been raised Triadist, but had never stuck to it. He’d run into followers of so many odd ideas, all believed quite sincerely, out on the frontier that he was convinced either all of them had to be true or none of them. He leaned towards the latter.
Uln was the same; when he’d met her, out on the silver fields all those years ago, she’d kept to Woose beliefs, that the earth itself was trying to scour them from its hide. She’d soon come to the conclusion that people were more dangerous than the earth itself, though she still practised the ancient rites in private, for old time’s sake.
The priest began reading out a long parable from one of the old books, about how Bran the Wise travelled to Kemet, and heard of the union of Osiris and Isis that created Horus, and noticed how similar it was to his own gods, the Father, the Virgin Mary and the man they called Christ, and therefore took his first steps towards recovering the first, true religion.
The priest began a prayer to the trinity, the rest of the delegates chanting along with him, and most of the servants too: To the Father, God, Osiris, for mercy for the souls of the dead, for the Mother, Mary, Isis to thank her for sparing the lives of the living, to the Son, Jesus, Horus, Mithras, for bringing them victory.
When that was done, the speeches began. Mato Calwere was up first.
It was all very stirring, though it had no connection to the reality. All he spoke about was the militia and how very brave they were. The only mention the wyverns got was of how they, alongside the melting snows and forest fires, were one of the ways the Teresians had underestimated the peninsular, like they were some natural force and not the result of West Point taking the opportunity to settle old grudges and cement new alliances. The fact that, in Eidre’s opinion, they would have been overrun on the first day by the Teresians if not for the wyverns causing them to arrive to the battlefield demoralized, exhausted, and having taken heavy casualties, was unmentioned.
His account of the second day was even worse, barely mentioning the vast air battle that had allowed the dawn attack to succeed.
“Now, do you know what happened up on the abatis, when the camp followers and the wounded and the reserves saw the Teresians surrendering? The Genian soldiers started chanting “Commonwealth Forever.” And what did we chant?”
“Carfane free from Tyrants!” the delegates called out, as one.
“And we drowned them out.” Mato said. “As we will drown out those cowards who will not fight for Carfane’s freedom, whether it be from the Sun King or the High Queens, whether it be from the tyranny of lords or bureaucrats.”
The cheering echoed to the skies. Eidre calmly waited for it to end before she stepped up.
“On this day, something very important happened. Carfane was freed from one sort of tyrant. As Mr. Calwere said, we faced the tyranny of lords, and now must face the tyranny of bureaucrats. And to face tyranny, we need allies. I learnt that as Halidon’s Hill, as did the Commonwealth. I fought with the cavalry. The Teresian cavalry on paper, were better. They were better armoured, better mounted, recruited from natural riders, and outnumbered us. But their attacks on the flank I was fighting on achieved nothing. Why?”
“Because you were on a bloody hill.” someone yelled.
Hans had to laugh. Smart man.
“Yes, that, but we also had allies in the wyverns. All through the march from Arrenelle, they’d been burning the Teresians fodder, picking off foraging parties, and scattering their remounts. By the time Halidon’s hill happened, their horses were so malnourished and exhausted they could scarcely trot, let alone gallop, uphill and we beat them off easily. And that meant that there where cavalry free to charge across to the left flank, and rout the Teresians who were breaking through. I was unhorsed and wounded in that charge. I met my husband in the aftermath.” Eidre caught her breath.
“And on the second day, the Commonwealth and the wyverns burnt and scattered the Teresian air fleet, then bombed their army. I watched it happen. Now, that told me two things. Firstly, that the Commonwealth air fleet is very, very dangerous. And secondly, that the wyverns are quite good at destroying airships. Again, we won because we had allies. Without the wyverns, the Commonwealth wouldn’t have been able to blow those gaps in the Teresian lines, and the Teresians might even have been able to burn the Commonwealth fleet and bomb us. Now, the lesson from all of this? Carfane, united, beat the Teresians. And Carfane, united, can beat the Commonwealth. We need West Point if we want to take that on”. She pointed at the airships.
“Now, I don’t want another war. I’d much rather we resolve this at the negotiating table. But that is far easier if whoever you are negotiating with doesn’t hold all the cards. And if it comes to a war, I want us to win. Carfane must unite or die.”
There was cheering for her. Less than for Mato. But it would be enough.