Captain Lydon Novak sat in his command tent and stared at one of its walls intently. To an observer it would seem as if he was a near-perfect statue, the only indication of life being the rising and falling of his chest. The man who led Backhand Blow was deep in thought, checking in his mind every detail of his plan which was nearing fruition after many years. His true goal of reclaiming his rightful position from his treacherous brother seemed to be closer and closer, and perhaps in as little as six months he would be able to enter his homeland for the first time since his exile.
Backhand Blow was going to be the vanguard of his force, he would arrive in the Novak Duchy with wagon loads of weapons and provisions, and would begin arming his countrymen for a fight against the usurper. With a core of mercenaries, augmented by a larger force of levies he would lay siege to Larda; the place of his birth.
After that it would be a matter of time before his brother who never proved himself to be a military thinker would fall. What to do afterwards was another question, Werley, his second-in-command urging restraint but he remained unconvinced. If he made this decision disregarding any further consequences, then he would no doubt lop off his brother’s head with his own hand. He did not want Lugo to find a place in exile from where he would be able to disrupt the government of his domain. Perhaps he might do the same as he did, and arrive one day unannounced with a force of men to back his claim.
To avoid such an outcome his death would need to be guaranteed, whether it was immediate or prolonged mattered little but he would bear the moniker of ‘Kinslayer’ nonetheless. Such a title was something any sane ruler would seek to avoid, but Lugo had gained it in fact if not officially. His father’s death was suspect to all who knew the old Duke, but none within the duchy would dare suggest the current Duke had anything to do with it. Such words could be interpreted as treason, an offense which carried a mortal punishment.
Lydon knew he was nowhere near as competent in subterfuge as his brother, so he would not be able to mask his death in a way which let him escape the consequences of his intended actions. His mind went round and round in circles dreaming about the work that was ahead of him after achieving his life’s goal, Werley would be placed in the same position that his father held. There was a certain satisfaction that Lydon felt every time he thought about it, Werley’s father was the Marshal in Lydon’s Father’s court, and now Werley would be in his. This was the way that noble society ought to operate in Lydon’s mind, and he was sure that the two would bring prosperity and security to his homeland the likes of which it had never seen.
His thoughts were interrupted by Werley arriving in his tent, with stacks of parchment in his hands. Lydon turned to face the arrival of his friend, before cutting him off before he could begin his reports.
“I’m sure you’ve checked everything over, I do not need a detailed explanation just give me the shortened version” Lydon ordered, not wishing to sit through another hour or so of Werley reading numbers.
“With Alula’s recruitment efforts today we have reached the target size of 200 armed men, and a few of the severely injured from the previous contract have joined up with the camp helpers so their size has now expanded to just over 30…” Werley stated, before pausing to make sure Lydon heard every detail. After receiving a nod to continue, he obliged his friend and commander.
“...The new recruits have all been given equipment that was looted from the battlefield or that which was worn by our fallen brothers. They will pay this off through work which will take an estimated three to four months. Many are still ‘green’ but the situation will improve with time, barring any serious disaster we can proceed with our plans” Werley finished, before placing the parchments on Lydon’s desk and taking a seat himself.
“And what of our provisions?” Lydon asked.
“We have enough grains for a month, although our meat reserves, if used sparingly, can last us up to two weeks. We are ready to move out at your command” Werley answered, his words accompanied by an expression that suggested he was eager to get on with it.
“Werley, how many years has it been since we planned our revenge?” Lydon asked, pivoting the conversation away from official matters.
“Nearly six years Captain” Werley answered, not understanding why such a question is being asked.
Hearing his response Lydon looked around the tent, before dropping the volume of his voice and continuing the conversation.
“There’s no one else here, and I need to talk to my friend and not my Vice-Captain” Lydon requested, sporting a polite grin.
“I understand Lydon, but what troubles you so? We are ready to move towards the Novak Duchy as early as tomorrow morning. With good weather we will cross its borders within three weeks” Werley asked, his tone and vocabulary informal.
“If we do this the way you propose, news will reach Lugo that we have arrived with a force of two hundred sometime in Autumn. He will be able to gather his own forces and force an engagement before the snows fall” Lydon explained his concerns, trying to get Werley to see things from his perspective.
“And that would be a problem? If we defeat him before winter we can have you back on the ducal throne before the passing of the year” Werley continued, not seeing Lydon’s point.
“Our men are not men-at-arms Werley, they are mercenaries which will be fighting with levies we will be able to recruit. In addition, if he decides to sit back and reinforce his defenses we would be spending the winter months in suffering while his men will be well rested for the campaigning season next year” Lydon elaborated, seeing understanding gradually appear on Werley’s visage.
“What is the alternative?” Werley asked, knowing fully that Lydon already had a feasible one in his head.
“If we delay our march east, we can spend a month or two getting our new recruits up to par. If we arrive in the duchy just before the snows begin to fall, we can prevent news from getting out and conquer a small bastide somewhere near the border for accommodation. We can then train our countrymen inside and around, after which we will have the initiative as soon as the weather allows. We can march on Larda before he can muster his men, after which it will be only a matter of time before we succeed” Lydon explained his plan, keeping his eyes not on Werley but on the pieces of parchment now resting on the table.
“There is another advantage to your plan that you didn’t consider, friend…” Werley teased, enjoying the cluelessness that appeared on Lydon’s face for a moment.
“Go on…” Lydon ordered pessimistically.
“If the true ruler of the duchy appears with a formidable armed force, perhaps the nobles of that area will join you. We might not even have to conquer any castles, the gates might just…open” Werley explained, accompanying his words with hand motions at the end.
“That would certainly be a welcome development…” Lydon agreed, but restrained his enthusiasm at such a prospect.
“Are we to train the men here? Or do you have a different place in mind?” Werley wondered.
“We will head north-east, a squad just came back from a commission that way, Gorkas assured me that the road was clear. After we cross the mountains, we will set up a base in Ballir. I don’t want the Setimians getting worried about our prolonged presence outside their capital” Lydon announced with a smile.
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“Are we leaving tomorrow then?” Werley questioned, but Lydon shook his head in the negative.
“Two squads are out on commissions, but they are expected to return later today or tomorrow. Order the rest of the squad leaders to stop going out, we will move as soon as the whole band is at the camp” Lydon informed him.
Werley nodded in understanding, but did not make any move to leave the command tent. Lydon looked at him in confusion, as it was quite clear that he gave out an order that Werley should have rushed to fulfill. Werley gave him a guilty look, but after fidgeting for a few moments finally found the courage to question his commander.
“I know you are dead-set on killing ‘him’ after our victory, but I would still advise you to stay your hand and not lower yourself to the level of that sniveling coward. You are a better man, and as such it might be best to just set him free with no money or resources, while executing his cronies. Without them he will be like a bird without wings, forever restrained to the plane of the ground” Werley advised his friend, waiting for a response
“I will think on this” Lydon replied noncommittally, before gesturing to Werley to leave.
***
The castle located in the center of Larda was comically large for the size of the town that surrounded it. The capital of the Novak Duchy housed just 15,000 inhabitants and a full third of them could be put inside the castle that was in the center, alluding to the frivolousness or madness of the man that ordered its construction. The truth of the matter was neither of those options, as was known to the current Duke and his confidants. They knew that at one time hundreds of years before the city was the focal point of the entire lands that surrounded them, with a city that was many times larger than its current size.
The castle was built here as a reminder of the authority the men who ruled from it possessed, and the size was maintained in subsequent generations out of a sense of duty or simply for aesthetic purposes. The current duke did not have 5,000 men to place in the castle's garrison, having to make do with a measly 200 inside the castle and a further 300 to guard and patrol the surrounding city.
As any man who grew up in the shadow of such an imposing sight, thoughts of returning the current lands to the glory of centuries past appeared in his mind, tempting him to achieve what neither his father, nor his brother could do. While those men were content with keeping this as they were all their lives, focusing on keeping the lands safe and the peasants fed, he saw greater purpose for himself in the shadows of Larda’s castle. The interactions he witnessed in his childhood between his father and his vassals intrigued him, and he eventually began applying the same basic manipulations on the other children living in the castle, before turning his sights to the adults.
By the age of 12 the boy was a moving terror, no guard or maid daring to make the mistake of crossing his path. There were rumors among the castle staff that he was the incarnation of some vengeful spirit, or even worse the avatar of an evil god. Such a reputation served him well, as it was he who encouraged his friends to spread these words, spreading his influence like a cancer throughout first Larda, and then the duchy proper.
When circumstances fit an advantageous template that he envisioned, he set a plan into motion that would place him in his father’s chair, pre-empting any attempt at ensuring the succession of his brother in the process. He obtained a rare poison at great expense from abroad, entrusting an inconspicuous mercenary to carry it with him all the way to Larda, that poison was then given to his father’s seneschal, who moved quietly inside his father’s bedchambers and emptied the vial into the Duke’s mouth.
Both the seneschal and the mercenary would not live to see the next lunar cycle, the two moons being partially illuminated the final image both men would see. Many more would die in the subsequent months, but over five years of ruling have cleansed the realm of most of those who openly opposed Duke Lugo.
The man now had a secure power base, and was stretching his web of intrigue into the lands of his neighbors, waiting for an opportunity to ‘take a bite’ out of every single one of them. In the middle of such machinations, he was informed by the court herald that an emissary from the Kingdom of Hessia wished to speak with him, an unexpected variable.
He followed noble custom and received the man and his entourage in his throne room, many courtiers and guards applying invisible pressure on the current guests. All but one of them received it, but the man in the lead who wore an expensive noble tunic in the style of Western Euphelia seemed unfettered by such a display.
He marched up to fifteen paces in front of Duke Lugo, calculating the closest distance he could approach without the Duke’s guards making a move. He bowed courteously, which was mirrored by his other attendants, before greeting the Duke.
“Baron Cadmar Ingen greets the honorable Duke Lugo of the Novak Duchy on behalf of my liege, Count Macon of Sipon” Cadmar shouted loudly, as was custom in such a large room.
“I, Duke Lugo of the Novak Duchy return the count’s greetings, you and your party are given my hospitality” Lugo shouted just as loudly, returning the expected greeting that was expected of a man in his position.
“We thank you Lord Duke, my liege sent me to the hinterlands to give all the notable nobles his greetings and to discuss matters of trade, although my instructions for your Grace were to discuss one other matter” Cadmar shouted, although now just loud enough for the people this side of the hall to hear him.
“Regarding trade you would have to speak to my steward, as he handles all such affairs in my realm. I am intrigued by this other matter you wish to discuss with me I would have you speak of it now, as I am a busy man with many duties to attend to” Lugo answered neutrally, not wishing to waste more of his time speaking to a representative of a puny count who was far away from his lands.
“I am afraid that the presence of many others forbids me from speaking of it at the moment, my instructions were that only your lordship’s ears would hear of it” Cadmar countered, this time drawing groans of disapproval from the surrounding courtiers.
Lugo did not immediately respond to the emissary’s request, letting him stew under the verbal barrages his men gave him from the sidelines. After making certain decisions regarding his safety, he relented and agreed to discuss the manner in his office.
“You may bring one guard with you, although I will be accompanied by four in consideration of my safety. We are to reconvene in my office in fifteen minutes” Announced Lugo, eliciting a nod of approval from the Hessian.
Fifteen minutes of waiting in his office later, before which he was informed of all his advisors knew regarding Hessia and Count Macon of Sipon, Cadmar arrived in the Duke’s office alone, without any guards.
“I thought I made it clear that you are permitted to have one guard with you for this discussion?” Groaned Lugo, irritated by the Baron’s apparent insult.
“My apologies your Grace, but my instructions were to keep this information as secret as possible, so even my guards are not to know what I need to tell you” Cadmar explained, mollifying the Duke’s anger.
“Have a seat then, and do tell me what your oh so honorable and respected count wishes to tell me” Duke replied sarcastically, hoping for his insult to elicit some kind of emotional response from the emissary.
His words did not serve their intended purpose, the baron sat down casually but still respectfully in front of the duke, before concentrating his eyes on every person in the Duke’s office.
“These guards of yours…you trust them to not disclose the contents of our discussion today?” Cadmar asked slowly, his words lending weight to the importance of the upcoming conversation.
The Duke, who was always shrewd and quick on the uptake, understood that what he was about to tell him was not within the bounds of usual noble talk, and so nodded but did not speak further.
“I must first apologize for deceiving you about my true aims and identity. While I am Baron Cadmar Ingen who was given the title of Baron by Count Macon of Sipon, he is not the true person I serve…” Cadmar began his explanation, but paused to see if the Duke would still remain here for the latter part. The Duke did not show any surprise on his face at such an announcement, and simply stared at Cadmar, his expression conveying the message: ‘and why should I care?’.
“...I was told to come here and inform your Lordship of a grave threat to your lands and personage, by the hand of a family member no longer within the duchy. My liege wishes for you to avoid coming to any harm, as it would not be in our interests…” Cadmar continued cryptically, his explanation giving the Duke more questions than answers.
“We are well aware of my ‘family member’ that you speak of, but he and his one-hundred mercenaries are no more than a jackal who can never hope to dislodge the lion tha-” Lugo stated, but was cut off by the emissary.
“Two-hundred, at least that was the size of his mercenary band as of one week ago” Cadmar corrected, interrupting the Duke which was a gross breach of etiquette.
“And you are sure of this information how? How can I trust the words of a man who does not even tell me who’s interests he represents…” Lugo questioned, rattled by the expanding size of his brother’s army but still distrustful of this man that showed up seemingly out of nowhere.
“My true loyalties lie with the Jenusian Empire your Grace, and they would see you in good health and capable of doing more than protecting the borders of your duchy, with this show of good faith by informing you of an impending threat, we hope to establish a profitable working relationship” Cadmar answered, finally divulging the name of his employer.
“The Jenusian Empire? What would they want my help with all the way out here? It takes at least a month for a courier using many horses to take a message from Larda to your borders” Lugo explained his concerns, not believing the man’s message that this was being done out of the ‘goodness’ of their hearts.
“At present we have no interests in the hinterlands, but things rarely remain in the same state for too long. Perhaps your assistance will be needed in the future, and we hope that a relationship of trust and perhaps an alliance can be established, if unofficially at first” Cadmar continued undeterred, answering the Duke’s inquiries.
“It can’t just be that, what is it that you truly want from me ‘Baron’?” Lugo asked disrespectfully, understanding that the man was not a landed noble but simply an honorary one.
“We would provide funds to you, to eliminate your brother’s band outside the borders of the Novak Duchy. These funds are sufficient to get your men-at-arms, and a band of mercenaries or two to set the stage for your brother’s downfall…” Cadmar gave the Duke the enticing offer that was already prepared, the gold sitting in one of the chests he was traveling with.
“And you’d do all of that for what? Did my brother cause some offense that deems such measures on your part?” Lugo continued his questioning, not getting a response that made sense in his mind for why the Jenusians would stretch their claws all the way to the hinterlands.
“There is a man, well boy, who serves in your brother’s band. We would request that he be the one person we could capture and return to the Jenusian Empire. If he dies then our partnership will be at an end, but we will provide his name and likeness to you after we receive your agreement” Cadmar finally gave a true answer, since gaining an ‘ally’ in the hinterlands was only one of the goals of the current mission.
“A boy? And how important is this boy that you would do all of this just to bring him back?” Lugo finally relented, and asked the last question that prevented his mind from accepting this great opportunity that fell on his lap.
“More than you could ever imagine…” Cadmar answered, which finally sealed the decision in the Duke’s mind.