The capital of Rhankia, Rikkenhotten, was guarded by two rings of stone walls built many centuries ago and sat at the center of the Rhankish lands. Divided by a long river, it was also immune to long-term sieging as many parts of the river was also guarded by large forts. Thus it could be said that it was the safest place in all of Rhankia, yet nobody in the city felt at ease knowing this.
The great city was blanketed by an air of unease and worry, especially at the royal palace where a large number of nobles had gathered. Unlike the Great Hall of Vyssium, the assembly hall used by the Rhankians was large, squarish, and lavishly filled with decorations and stone statues of many local heroes.
It was here where many of the decisions were made in order to save the country… or break it.
Noblemen of lower ranks sat in chairs facing the front of the hall, while the front seats facing the back of the hall were reserved for the highest ranking nobles and the king. There, the lowly barons could only watch as the counts, dukes, and even royal appointees waged a bloodless war against each other using only their own wits and words.
“Red-haired barbarians to the west, despicable mud people to the east, and packs of flea-ridden savages raid from the south. We must all choose one enemy to focus on, and swiftly defeat them one by one! I suggest we take down the easiest targets - the Alarians! Move the troops from every corner of Rhankia and assail eastwards!” a Rhankian shouted as he raised his fist up into the air.
Like many of the people at the front, he wore a tunic with a long thick cape worn over his shoulders. His sleeves were loose, and on his head was a beret with a long cloth tail hanging by his shoulders. While most of the nobles wore almost the same thing, the higher ranked nobles obviously had fancier clothes with intricate silver decorations tied in the most eye-catching spots.
“Duke Hoerbert, are you suggesting to leave our lands unguarded, thus allowing more barbarians to set foot on Mother Rhankia?” an old man shouted on the opposite corner of the front hall. He stood up from his seat and faced Hoerbert directly.
“Duke Villbrod, forgive me for forgetting that some people may have problems understanding the… grander scheme of a strategic plan. I may not have been clear on my intentions so I am willing to explain it further so that nobody gets left behind as we discuss my plans, or perhaps should I slow down my talking pace?” Hoerbert answered.
Villbrod was past his prime age, but his wit had become sharper even though his body had grown weaker. He did not let the underhanded insult get to him and instead countered, “Do not worry, friend. I am aware that you are not very confident in your plan as it might sound ridiculous to the veteran strategists such as I, but unfortunately, we cannot dawdle about as the invaders continue to infest Rhankish soil. Instead, why don’t we discuss a solid fool-proof plan that might garner more success?”
Sitting at the very front of the hall, on top of a raised platform, a middle-aged man with graying hair sat on a gilded throne. On his head rested a bejeweled crown which looked almost like a golden lion’s head. Despite his red overcoat, it still did not hide his well-built body.
“Honorable Villbrod, what is this plan you speak of?” the king asked in an authoritative tone.
“Venerable King Leosif the Third, strengthen the borders while the central nobles gather under the Royal Army, then have the Royal Army crush our foes underfoot one by one. This isn’t a real big invasion, but simply bands of ragtag raiding parties, so we don’t need to call up every single man to march all around Rhankia just to beat some barbarian bandits,” Villbrod answered.
The old duke was cunning, as his original plan had been to simply throw every force to the border and push off the invaders. When Hoerbert suggested a ‘divide and conquer’ strategy, he immediately assimilated the idea into his own plan without a second thought. While it is possible to beat off small raiding forces just by securing the borders, there was more glory to be earned from leading a victorious army that would do most of the killing blows.
King Leosif nodded at the idea then beckoned Villbrod to continue. Villbrod smiled inwardly since interrupting him would mean disrespecting the king, thus Hoerbert will have no choice but to sit quietly while Villbrod described his ‘grand’ plan.
The plan was simple - the Royal Army would defeat the small groups of raiding warbands one by one, while minor lords would have to raise their force and reinforce the borders.
“The Royal Army will have to be quick and mobile, so it will consist of only Rhankish knights and serjents. Infantry support will simply be supplied by the border armies once the Royal Army arrives to fight off the invaders. Thus, we only have to carry small amounts of supplies and we do not have to march a massive army all over Rhankia. Time is crucial, and no doubt that these raiding parties will only turn into a large invasion force given enough time,” Villbrod explained.
King Leosif closed his eyes then nodded. “It’s true that our eastern and southern borders are only being raided by small warbands so only a small contingent of elite soldiers will be needed to handle them. It’s the Vyssians who are the real threat.”
“That is correct, Your Grace. The Royal Army will have to be led by a strong and wise commander, possibly one of the old veterans who had defended Rhankia for many decades already,” Villbrod suggested, quietly bobbing his head in hopes that the king would understand his ulterior motive.
King Leosif didn’t say a thing for a moment as he stared at the ceiling. He rested his head against his hand, then tapped the arms of his thrones repeatedly. “Strong and wise commander, huh… I believe veterans such as yourself would be put to better use defending the borders. My son will lead the Royal Army.”
Though Villbrod was somewhat discontent with the king’s sudden decision, he was still happy that he still had chance of winning glory by holding the invaders back and waiting for the Royal Army to come. After all, people had sung heroic songs and tales about valiant leaders who had defended Rhankia against impossible odds.
“Your Grace, command this humble one as you see fit,” Villbrod insisted as he bowed the knee.
“I will have you, Duke Villbrod, oversee the defense against the Vyssian invaders to the west. I believe that only you would be able to halt their barbaric advance until my son arrives to push them back all the way to Vyssia,” King Leosif ordered.
“Your will be done.”
“Good. Before we discuss the plan in full detail, we shall take a short break. I need to have a word with my son. Orwulf, come with me,” King Leosif announced as he got up and left the hall.
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“What is it, Your Majesty?” Prince Orwulf addressed King Leosif as soon as they entered the king’s private study.
“Oh, don’t be so cold to me, son. I told you to call me father when we’re away from those vile and scheming snakes,” King Leosif joked as he poured wine into a metal cup.
“Those vile and scheming snakes are your loyal vassals, father,” Prince Orwulf added with a sigh.
“Bah. In the open, they would love to kiss the ground I stepped on, but in secret, they were probably tasting if my shoe was expensive or not. Any signs of weakness, and they turn their daggers towards your back. Remember that, son.”
“Of course, father. So what did you want to discuss with me?” Prince Orwulf asked.
“What do you think of the raids?” King Leosif shot back as he downed his cup.
Orwulf looked outside of the window and nodded at the king’s question. “It’s just a minor problem. I don’t think any of barbarians could even capture any strategically important castle. At most, the border villages would be raided, but that’s it.”
Raids from Rhankia’s many colorful neighbors weren’t uncommon, and it would actually cause panic among the nobility if none of its neighbors would raid them for a year, since they would suspect that an invasion was being planned. Invading its neighbors to stop the raids would only cause bigger headaches as the raiding hordes would actually become an invasion force, so Rhankia was forced on the defense most of the time. A few centuries ago, Rhankia tried to invade the Alarians, but that backfired when the Vyssians invaded in full force. Afterwards, Rhankia limited its conquests to smaller regions when their enemies were too busy to turn their attention.
“But you didn’t call me here because of our wonderful neighbors, right?” Prince Orwulf asked.
King Leosif nodded and quietly passed a small letter to his son.
“The Church had begun to move?” Prince Orwulf gasped.
“After a long time of moping around like literal corpses, the undead are on the move. Not only that, there’s some mysterious movements all over the continent as well. I heard that some nations to the south were attacked by ‘mermen’ and ‘sea monsters’. Whatever the case, my spies are on the watch out for anything suspicious,” King Leosif said.
“What are the other nations doing?” Prince Orwulf asked.
“The Great Republic is… doing nothing as usual. They wouldn’t mind if a horde of skeletons decimate every inch of land that doesn’t belong to them or their allies, not that they have any allies, mind you. I’m still gathering information on other nations.”
“You’re preparing me,” Prince Orwulf concluded.
Leading the Royal Army was the perfect chance to give the green prince some chance to get recognition and experience, especially since the enemies were mostly just barbarian raiders. By the time any great threat would come to Rhankia, Leosif would have a capable right-hand man that he could trust - his own son Prince Orwulf.
“Whatever the case, don’t get too cocky. By the way, have you seen your sister recently?” King Leosif asked.
“She’s still insisting on going to Varangia to look for those winged wolves. She's such a child for believing in fairy tales about winged wolves,” Prince Orwulf scoffed.
“Were you not also fascinated by such tales when you were younger?” King Leosif raised an eyebrow as he smiled amusingly at his son.
“That is… a long time ago, father. Imma’s going to become a young woman soon, and she still believes that winged wolves exist. She should stay at home and focus on doing what princesses do… like archery or subterfuge training.”
“I really don’t like those assassins teaching my young girl. I’d prefer it if she didn’t learn how to blend in with the shadows like her mother did,” King Leosif mumbled as he downed another cup of wine. He checked in the corner just in case his wife was actually hiding behind the furniture.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Why? Because you want to spoil her?”
“No, it’s because your mother used to sneak a blade behind my back whenever she saw me talking to other women when we were younger. I still wear a linen pad on my back to this day, you know? What would happen if her future suitor was as dumb as I was back then? Will I have to teach him how to protect his own back as well? Is this how family techniques are passed down?”
“Father, you worry about the most miniscule of things.”
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Inside a dark metallic hall sat a person with a large set of eyes and claws on its upper body. The claws flipped through numerous number of ancient scrolls and books carefully while the eyes inspected every element and detail carried inside the writings. The pile of books sitting in front of the person was being dwindled at a steady but slow pace, but only because he had to be careful when going over the crumbling texts.
Everytime a book was finished, it was thrown without care to another pile which was being handled by a few worker drones. At the same time, the person copied the books using biomatter paper and anti-mana lightning magic, and not a single detail was left out.
To any other ordinary person, sorting, memorizing and copying entire books wouldn’t be impossible, but it would take considerable amount of time to do so. However, Custodian’s automatons weren’t ordinary people. In fact, they weren’t even people, anyway.
The drone took an old book which had a decayed red cover, another old combat manual which were looted from the barracks under Mount Varangia. He flipped through the pages and copied it as it skimmed through the book. Even the drawings were copied exactly as they were - down to the smallest anatomical mistakes such as the ugly hands.
Once he was done copying the entire book, he once again threw the original to the other pile. However, the drone stopped as he noticed that there were no more books on the pile. Small letters and scrolls were the only ones left to be read over, but Custodian had ordered the drone to stop and report back to it once all the books had been studied and copied.
‘What is it?’ Custodian answered as soon as it felt a ping from the drone.
Instead of answering, the drone flashed various images back to Custodian.
‘No more books? I see. I will have to ask Weaver for a report,’ Custodian thought to itself.
According to the humans, the specialized humans with the roles of ‘Priests’ and ‘Scholars’ had the possibility of having more books or scrolls, so Weaver had asked the little priestess girl Elena to see if she could bring back any and all books she could get her hands on.
Though, Custodian knew that it would take some time before he could get foreign books back to his dungeon, so it decided not to care about this issue for now.
‘But still, for Drone 5 to have succeeded in analyzing and translating the knowledge found inside Mount Varangia in such a short amount of time…’ Custodian began pondering about the last of its original ten drones.
Drone 5 was tasked with one simple thing: analyze, archive, and restore all knowledge it was handed to. Since keeping crumbling ancient texts would be impractical, Custodian decided to copy the books into a type of data block which the drones could read, then recycle the old books for biomatter.
As for why Custodian wanted physical copies of the books, the A.I. was worried when it realized that there was a chance that drones could forget things, as was the case of the enigmatic drone known as Red.
Red had a collection of human knowledge, but she was having a hard time remembering a part of it unless Custodian really had to delve within her database. Sure, the knowledge weren’t lost, but it still took time away from other more important tasks such as producing more anti-mana.
Perhaps Custodian’s drones could remember everything, and that Red was simply a special case, but the A.I. didn’t want to take any chances.
While Custodian could also memorize everything and that the drones could simply access data from Custodian’s database, it was also wary there was also a chance for it to be cut off from its drones, like that one time an unknown entity tried to link itself to the A.I. directly when it was accessing Memory 3.
Thus, Custodian simply opted to make a library inside its own dungeon. There were different copies of the same book inside the library; one type of copy was just an ordinary copy - word by word, picture by picture, every page were kept as is. Another type was a group of biomatter sheets with tiny dots bound together to form a physical data block.
Of course, Custodian could simply manufacture a number of specialized worker drones to copy the books and scrolls, but the A.I. also had another goal in its mind.
‘Well done, Erudite. Once you have copied the last of the scrolls and letters, begin studying all of the library materials, and form your own research on each of them,’ Custodian ordered.
Drone 5, or called Erudite, didn’t even answer back as he immediately went back to attending to the pile of paper sitting in front of him.
Strangely enough, Erudite wasn’t a very talkative drone. When Custodian asked whether Drone 5 had a name in mind, he didn’t even budge. In fact, he probably didn’t even care. This led the A.I. to simply name him with the name and title ‘(The) Erudite’.
‘Weird. I thought that as I unlocked more Memory Fragments, the memories would leak into to the drones and affect their personalities. Perhaps I am wrong. I will have to create another hypothesis… after I am done with creating a few dozen more worker drones,’ Custodian decided.
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“Demonic northmen are here! Run for your lives!” a man shouted as fire blazed across the snowy village. Men, women, and children ran in every direction as armored men in fur ransacked and slaughtered countless innocent civilians.
Two raiders chased after a little girl as she cried out for her father. A burly man came out of a burning house with an axe and charged at the raiders to save his daughter. While the father held the raiders back, he screamed, “Run little Agnes! Don’t even look back!”.
The little girl ran into the woods and heeded her father’s last words. Tears didn’t stop falling from her eyes even as the noise of carnage had quieted down into the sound of loneliness. Her barely covered feet bloodied the snow as she kept running straight, not knowing where she was headed to. She didn’t even know whether she would survive the night out in the middle of nowhere without food or shelter.
She only knew one thing - she had to warn the others.
Meanwhile, back at Northern Rhankia, it had been two weeks since the Varangians had taken Castle Norwind, and many Vyssian reinforcements had began pouring into the occupied territories. As agreed, the Varangians could loot, pillage and ransack as much as they wanted as long as the land was handed back to the Sea’axfeared. The drones took it to heart and would immediately leave the area once they were done raiding and stripping the land of anything useful back to Mount Varangia.
As Vyssian soldiers marched to occupy the conquered Rhankish villages and towns, they were surprised at the number of wrapped handcarts going back to friendly territories. Wagons filled with weapons, treasure, and questionable bloody wrappings were carted back to Castle Norwind by large furred men covered from head to toe in armor.
“I heard that these northmen mercenaries were highly strict and disciplined, but to think they would even be forced to carry all these by themselves…” a Vyssian remarked as he marched on with his comrades.
“Don’t they have peasants to do these? Or even horses? It’s not that cold that horses would freeze, don’t they know that?” another one added.
There were a mix of ridicule and curiosity directed at the new mysterious allies, but the Vyssians were all equally at awe at the rate of which the ‘northmen’ stormed through Northern Rhankia.
There were even eldermen back at Sea’ax voicing their concerns that they were expanding too much. Of course, they were also questioning how Ecgbert and Eoforwic managed to get their hands on such fine warriors.
Back at Castle Norwind, Weaver and Red sat in a large room with Ecgbert, Eoforwic, and a few redheaded men that belonged to the same branch family as Ecgbert and Eoforwic.
“The Rhankians seem to have their eyes set on the Alarians first,” one of the noblemen spoke.
“That means that we should keep pushing instead of sitting here at the north. We could try to push south and raid with the other Marcher Lords,” another nobleman suggested.
“I don’t think we should overextend our gains. Don’t forget our family is small and we don’t have much of an army besides the northmen. We can’t rely on them to wipe our arses all the time,” a nobleman objected.
“What will it be, eldermen?” At last, the younger men turned to the oldest of them all, Ecgbert and Eoforwic. Their expectant gaze pierced right into the two old men, but they remained calm and collected. Their wizened faces showed years of wisdom, and they silently pondered about the options they had on hand.
They whispered to each other then turned to Weaver. “Have you received your first shipments of wood yet?”
Weaver nodded and answered, “We received the wagons at the border of Varangia. There were no problems if that was what you were asking.”
Ecgbert placed his hand against his gray beard then asked, “Do you think your contract can be extended and expanded?”
The old man had an unsure tone, as if he was ashamed of asking. After all, what he was doing was daylight robbery, and the Varangians didn’t even mind. If any other people would hear that an army of warriors was willing to take the northern half of a kingdom for some logs and pieces of barebone loot, they would only think they were being fooled.
Yet, Weaver simply leaned forward and answered, “Depends on the price.”
“Silver? Gold? Cattle? Not even iron?” Ecgbert raised one of his eyebrows.
“More wood. More perishables. Ah, if you want, you could add in some books,” Weaver replied.
Ecgbert’s expression didn’t change. He only felt slightly uncomfortable at how small the Varangians were asking. He felt as if he wanted to complain that a famous merchant didn’t charge him more for a piece of artifact.
Ecgbert turned to the noblemen then announced, “I have decided that we will push for a few months more or until we have taken over Northwestern Rhankia. After that, we will dig in and wait for the Rhankish Army to come.”
One by one, the noblemen agreed. After all, it was normal that it would take months before a proper response could be made during war. Not only that, Sea’axfeared weren’t the only ones ravaging west of Rhankia. There were also the other Marcher Lords, the Alarians of the East, and other barbarians ravaging Southern Rhankia.
By the time the Rhankish Army arrives, Sea’axfeared would have solidified their position on Northwest Rhankia. But first, they had to secure the forts which would be their first line of defense.
“Sir Weaver. I have a proposition for you. I believe this would be beneficial to both you and me,” Ecgbert said.
“If there is profit to be gained, I am… what you would say ‘many ears’,” Weaver replied. The drone was proud of learning human idioms and understanding how they could and couldn’t be used. This was sign of his progress on learning more about the humans.
“The phrase is ‘all ears’, but never mind that,” Ecgbert shook his hand then continued, “I plan to secure the three paths going from Central Rhankia to Northwest Rhankia. If we secure all three passages, it would mean that our gains wouldn’t be open to the enemy.”
“What do you mean by that?” Weaver asked.
“There is nothing standing between this very place and Central Rhankia with the exception of a few villages and towns. Even a town would only last days before it falls from a siege. What we need is fortification to hold and garrison,” Ecgbert explained.
“True, true. The places we raided and took over were only minute concerns. Castle Norwind provided slightly more of a challenge to my people,” Weaver replied as he nodded.
‘If Castle Norwind was only slightly more challenging, I’d hate to see what you would call challenging!’ Ecgbert shouted in his head, but refrained from actually saying it.
Ecgbert further explained that the passages were guarded by a small castle each, and that they wanted the Varangians to take on the most defensible castle, and garrison it. The Vyssians guessed that it would take a few months for the Rhankians to respond, so sieging all three castles simultaneously was their only chance to take the castles.
“My Vyssians will take care of the other two castles. After our surprising success, more and more of our kin are joining our banners, so you don’t have to worry about us. As for the castle you’re attacking, if you can garrison it against the Rhankians, you may take it as yours. I heard that many great warbands had fallen before it, but I have confidence that you might be able to take it,” Ecgbert offered.
Weaver shook his head slightly then said, “I do not see how my people would benefit from having a piece of rock far from home.”
“Then just temporarily hold it, perhaps a few years, until we could get our men to garrison it. Just keeping the Rhankish villages and towns garrisoned is already stretching our manpower, so garrisoning all three castles is problematic right now,” Ecgbert explained.
Weaver leaned back on his chair then muttered, “I don’t know…”
With this, Eoforwic raised his finger and added, “In addition, I know that many people would be interested in hiring Varangian warriors in the future, but not many people would dare venture into Varangia, no offense. I offer you a chance to build an embassy right at the heart of Sea’ax.”
Instead of them coming to other people to offer their services, they could come to them instead! Custodian had thought about selling its drones for mercenary work, but it was wondering how it could go about doing that.
‘Master Custodian, what is your answer?’ Weaver asked.
‘Take it! In fact, see if you can use your wits to squeeze more sources of biomatter out of the humans!’ Custodian responded.
Weaver pretended to cough then answered, “The deal is good. I believe we should go over the details, especially about our payment.”