Chapter 165
The Turn of Time
Elven Calendar 4426 arrived on the wings of change, sweeping across the conflict-torn lands of the Imperium. Amidst the frost and persistent echoes of last year’s conflicts, the life of the Imperium still pulsed—albeit weakly and strained. Meanwhile, the ruling powers continued to deny the realm's fragile existence.
In the north, Gottfried, newly crowned King of Brigantes, had been forced to retreat his grand army, yet his forces still held a dagger to the Imperium's throat. Now, from the frost-covered walls of Albina Castle, he was consolidating his realm, which had expanded to include the entire three provinces of Brigandia, the recently subdued Arvena, and the war-torn territories of East Tiberia.
In West Tiberia, the populace of the Capital area lived in blissful ignorance. Many believed the threat was over, trusting the hundred Sages to protect the realm. However, many couldn't help but notice the rising prices, the absence of the high nobles, and the ever-increasing crime rates. The poor had little means to survive, and the situation was treading on dangerous ground with no solution in sight.
Meanwhile, in Elandia, Lord Bengrieve received word of the ongoing crisis in Midlandia. Despite it being part of his plan, his army was tied down by Nicopolan armed refugees and mercenaries, likely anchoring them in South Elandia for the foreseeable future. With the peak of winter yet to pass, no significant army movements were possible, leaving Midlandia vulnerable to Sir Reginald and his allies.
Sir Reginald's supporters acted swiftly. With the knights who sponsored him as the vanguard and thousands of zealous mobs in tow, they seized control of Lubina City and Castle, the central seat of power in Midlandia. The reigning Lord’s unwillingness to retain power resulted in a largely bloodless coup. The only notable incident was the Countess divorcing the Lord after he refused to defend their castle.
The transfer of power concluded rapidly, within just four days. After disbanding his entourage, the ousted Lord was allowed to retire to his private estate to live in exile. Reginald, now the acting Lord of Midlandia, quickly formed a new local government, sharing power among the knights, scholars, and saint candidates.
His first decree was to dismantle House Bengrieve, stripping it of all its power and influence. Consequently, they marched to Bengrieve’s allies and laid siege to Cascasonne city and castle, determined to winter there to secure a decisive victory by spring.
As the situation in Midlandia deteriorated, further south in Nicopola, the aftermath of the conflict had left little appetite for more confrontation. Many had perished in the violence, and now those who survived faced starvation. Many more died from hunger before the cold season even began, and the tragedy deepened as snowfall blanketed the region.
In the midst of this tragedy, the lifeline petitioned by Sir Harold and carried by the Free Legions under the command of Iron Head Servius continued to save lives. Fourteen thousand joined before winter, working desperately to build adequate shelters, with half volunteering to migrate to the Umberland mountains.
With so many people, the logistics provided by the Lord of Korelia were running dry. For the newly arrived, hunger was prevalent in their camps, but at least there was the certainty of rations and some vegetable soup. A breakthrough occurred when Servius' legion secured a city containing a hidden stash of treasure, likely looted from cities or manors.
With this newfound wealth and the riches looted from the devastated area, Servius struck a deal with Umberland to supply them with food. During this time, the Nicopolan people became aware of different kinds of foods, like yams and their derivatives.
Just a few days' ride to the south, with a hundred fresh Lowlandian Cavalry under his command, the Lord of Dawn managed to drive off the encroaching mobs and forced the mercenaries behind them to flee west. Lord Avery not only secured his people’s livelihood but also reestablished contact with besieged manors around his barony. Despite his non-expansionist policy, knights and esquires flocked to his banner, further strengthening his position.
While separated, the successes of Servius' Free Legion and Lord Avery brought some much-needed order and stability as the region braced for the cold embrace of winter.
In Lowlandia, Three Hills opened relations with Umberland and managed to organize a caravan before winter set in. Grains, ale, and wine were traded for medicine made from mountain herbs, black honey, and tree resin. This profitable venture and the guarantee of safe passage quickly cemented the Grand Alliance's reputation in the eyes of the commoners. Now, the new order had the domestic credence to match its military prowess.
Before snowfall, Sir Hugo arrived at Hill Fort with his squire and servant. He reached Umberland before the onset of snowfall, where he became the highest-ranking officer of House Lansius and was received cordially. Quietly, he undertook a period of penance, though it was brief.
Lastly, in Arvena province, Sir Anci continued leading a guerrilla campaign that had reached Ceresia, wreaking havoc on the Northerners' backlines and preventing news from reaching or leaving Riverstead, effectively splitting Arvena into West and East. In the eastern part, Lord Arte, his Marshal Sir Philip, and Thomas waged a clandestine war.
Despite early successes in raiding the Northerners' weak local garrisons in villages, their hopes of inciting an open rebellion and regaining Riverstead City never materialized. The Arvenians, weary from continuous conflicts, remained tepid. Despite apparent support, the devastated population was unable to heed the call to arms.
The situation led Lord Arte to accept his wife's suggestion that she return to Midlandia in search of reinforcements, specifically seeking the Saint Candidate Order, which controlled an informal army of zealous, armed mobs.
As the nobles waged their battles, for the populace not in power, the young year of 4426 could bring either salvation or utter destruction.
***
Midlandia, Hannei
"They had come," whispered many guards and servants in the corridor, prompting Lady Hannei to climb the stone stairs, driven by her curiosity. She had heard about the encroaching army, and the city, which had no walls, had surrendered, as the castle garrison was inadequate to protect it.
She reached the battlements and from there, saw the city being flooded by men, carts, and tents that moved like black dots over a white landscape. Despite the freezing winter, the armed mob had followed Saint Nay's orders. Without Lord Bengrieve's presence, she was able to exert her full power over the masses. Reports from spies also indicated that she had orchestrated the fallen Lord's decision to step down.
Hannei spotted the old steward approaching her. The two's entourage of servants and guards nodded at each other before giving them space.
"Lady Hannei," the steward greeted with a genuine warm smile.
"Steward," Hannei replied cordially, as she would to her father. The two set their eyes on the white landscape covering the city and the route beyond.
"Who is Saint Nay, really?" Hannei inquired.
The steward paused, a distant look crossing his face as he gathered his thoughts. "As you know, she's a former associate," he began slowly. "Actually, I sort of knew her when we were young; you could even say that we grew up together."
Hannei gazed at the steward with wide eyes. "You were her childhood friend? But she's... young?"
The man smiled as if recalling good memories, yet he warned, "Don't be deceived. She's old and insidious, likely from the means she used to remain youthful. However, I must admit that she used it cleverly to regain loyal followers and even a mob that would die on her command."
Hannei shuddered and clutched her fur coat tighter. "Still, can't you try to dissuade her from fighting?"
"I doubt she'll even acknowledge me now. She has climbed too high and done the unthinkable." Then, glancing at the worried Hannei, he reassured her, "Don't worry, Cascasonne's walls are high and our supplies are ample."
"Their numbers worry me. What if they swarm us? There are probably tens of thousands. And I see that they've brought siege towers and ladders," she observed.
"Impressive sight, Lady Hannei," the steward nodded. "Indeed, after centuries of controlling Midlandia, House Bengrieve has, regrettably, amassed quite a number of opponents."
"And the current Lord isn't helping by treating people coldly, almost like toys," she added with a soft moan.
The old steward bowed his head a little apologetically. "Most regrettable," he said, his thin smile denoting silent agreement.
A cold wind breezed past them, but not even their hair moved as Hannei extended her ethereal shield. Turning to him, she asked, "What will become of me?"
"A better saint, as Master expected."
"I'm a mage," she refused. "Furthermore, it's the role I never wanted."
"So did Master," he replied gently. "He didn't want to be the head of this House or Midlandia. He wanted no power for himself, just to survive and guide this region toward everlasting growth."
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Hannei groaned. "When you put it like that, he sounds like a hero, and I'm an inconsiderate bum."
The steward chuckled, his broad and reliable shoulders shaking in his humble traveling coat. "Do you know why he ascended to power despite loathing every bit of it?"
Hannei furrowed her brows and shook her head.
"It's because his family had observed, I must say correctly, that in nature there is only growth or decay. There is no other route to take. Either Midlandia continues to grow, or it will stagnate and decay."
Hannei sighed deeply and for once revealed her bitterness. "Don't be fooled. He's a cunning manipulator. He manipulated us."
"Without a doubt," the steward said as he looked at her warmly. "That's the trait of a good noble. Bad nobles use whips, mediocre ones shout, good ones ask nicely."
"With enough threats and swords, asking nicely is easy," she retorted.
Again, the steward chuckled. He then saw a hawk in the sky and muttered, "The master's words have arrived."
Hannei could only hold her breath in anticipation and exhaled deeply as she followed him to one of the towers in the castle. Meanwhile, beyond their walls, a large occupation force had formed, adding another seven thousand to the two thousand men-at-arms already wintering in the conquered city.
***
Korelia
Another month had passed in Korelia, and snow had finally blanketed the city in earnest. Unlike last year, Lansius chose to winter in the Eastern Mansion, which offered more comfort and space.
His last weeks leading up to cold season were filled with preparations for winter production. Unlike in other cities, Korelia had several large workshops that became centers of production during the winter months. Thus, local production actually ramped up in the wintertime due to the absence of other activities.
To accommodate this seasonal labor, Lansius ordered his staff to meticulously plan, calculate, and prepare all the materials needed for production. After the council and he had decided on a priority list, they also made a backup plan in case there were production issues. Because once winter came, there was no changing production plans due to the expected heavy snowfall, and any issues were unlikely to be resolved until the snowfall ended.
Such was the situation in Korelia that even when the waterwheel stopped due to the freezing river, production did not cease.
Moreover, due to the building projects, they had an extra building that was converted into a makeshift school for the young and adults and also lodging for the needy. Despite having made an orphanage, there were always the unfortunate who had different circumstances.
At the stone quarry to the east, the captured men from the battle of Korelia received better treatment. After all, they had become Lansius' subjects following his House's victory over Korimor and South Hill. They were allowed many conveniences after swearing their loyalty. There were also fewer guards around, and overall security was relaxed, as there was little perceived threat. House Lansius controlled their homes, and any attempt to flee without permission would only result in punishment upon their return.
Thus, for them, it was better to finish their sentences rather than run and cause further problems.
As he stood at the large window of his small hall adjacent to his chamber, wearing a coat lined with pashmina or cashmere wool that the nomads and Korelians had produced, Lansius quietly celebrated the end of 4425.
It had been a bloody year, and he was grateful that it was over. Yet, it was also a beautiful year, marked by his marriage to Audrey. Turning to his wife, he watched her cooking by the fireplace, a cherished winter tradition of their nascent House.
Returning to the window overlooking a city aglow with lights against the night, Lansius sighed softly. Next year would mark his sixth in this world, and against all odds, the once weak farmer from Bellandia had risen to become a warlord commanding multiple domains, knights, and squires.
The weight of the scroll in his hand reminded him of the rough calendar he had created. It was interesting that there were only eleven months in a year, but the number of days in each month was about forty.
While he harbored some doubts about the accuracy of the year's solar revolution calculations, he had no practical way to prove it. However, it seemed the Elves had figured it out thousands of years ago, as the timing of the rain and planting seasons was generally accurate.
Interestingly, this world also coincidentally celebrated the end of the year in a way similar to Earth. Here, the new year was marked as the herald of the coming spring season, even though actual spring was still two to three months away.
A whiff of a sweet but burnt aroma alerted him. "Drey, why does it smell like honey?" Lansius asked.
"Because it is honey," Audrey replied, her attention fixed on the bubbling pot.
Lansius furrowed. "Why are you cooking honey? And isn't it a bit late for a sweet snack?"
"Bochet," Audrey declared, stirring the mixture.
"A black mead?" Lansius was surprised. "But you're pregnant."
Audrey turned to Lansius with a smile. "Not for me, obviously. It's for you."
"Mm, you don't have to do this for me."
"Well, it's not like I'm making it all for you," she muttered, gently adding more ingredients into the cauldron. "You see, the best one is usually kept for several months."
"Ah," Lansius nodded, beginning to understand her intention. "But why make it yourself? Why not just place an order?"
"Well, it's because Cecile gave me jars of honey from her land, and it's been so long since I tasted a good bochet."
"Have you ever made one? I heard it’s quite dangerous."
"Yes, the next part—adding water to boiling honey—can be dangerous. One might lose an eyelash from the steam."
"Maybe it's better if I do it," Lansius said as he tucked his scroll into his inside pocket and approached the fireplace and her.
"Just relax," Audrey said as she gently poured water into the cauldron. Despite her carefulness, heated steam rose towards her face. Lansius was startled and ran toward her, only to see an ethereal circular shape had formed over her face, protecting her from the hot steam.
Lansius was stunned to see it. "You can do that now?"
Audrey glanced at him questioningly. "You do realize that I can move an airship's nose and change its course, right? Of course, I can protect myself from a little steam."
He shook his head in disbelief. The reaction time was unnatural, and how she could form it so accurately, effortlessly, and precisely was entirely different from moving a big object. It was like comparing pushing a boulder to making origami.
"I have to say, it’s quite handy," she added with a smile.
"That's definitely magic," Lansius stated firmly before adding, "Yet you still complain about not becoming a mage."
Audrey giggled. "I don’t make the rules, love. If Ingrid said she can’t sense my magic, then I’m not a mage."
Lansius scratched his head and made a mental note to consult this later with Ingrid.
If only I weren't besieged with so many things all at once.
He recalled the unfinished details for the south trade proposal, the banking plan, airship maintenance, the east agriculture project, the spring leaf carriage, the fire brigade, and also the spring bed. "Ah, I almost forgot we're going to use a new bed tonight."
"A new bed?" She turned to him while stirring carefully with a long ladle. "What's wrong with the one we used?"
"Well, it should be more comfortable," he said with a proud smirk.
"When did you order a bed? Must be costly, is it from White Lake?"
"I didn't. I made it," he replied, his smirk turning smug.
"You made a bed?" Audrey giggled. "Why would the most powerful and busiest man in Korelia make a bed?"
Lansius almost answered, but Audrey shook her head and from her sweet lips muttered, "No, love. No need. I'm content to know later. I'm sure there's a plan within a plan, as always."
"Not at all, I just wanted to make a comfortable bed. Why are you so distrustful of me?" he chuckled.
Audrey grinned happily. "Now that I know you're the one making the bed, I'm really looking forward to it."
***
Lowlandia Plains
The plains turned quiet, muffled under a thick blanket of snow, broken only by the sound of goats bleating or horses neighing. The air was crisp and biting, carrying the faint scent of wood smoke from the fires that burned continuously in the heart of each felt-covered yurt. Inside, the murmur of low voices and the crackle of burning logs surrounded toddlers who huddled together for warmth, while adults worked on their crafts and mended their tools.
The sharp tang of preserved meats mixed with the earthy aroma of fermented mare's milk, wine, and ale comforted everyone. For the first time in living memory, there was no shortage but an abundance of goods and food ingredients.
As their leader, Batu had seen even the most stubborn elders smile more often and show fewer wrinkles on their faces. They confided in him that they were glad the younger generations were leading better lives.
That morning, Batu quietly watched his wife breastfeeding their son, clad in clean, fluffy, soft linen—the best Midlandia had to offer. His wife, sweet and caring, beautiful even without her traditional decorations, continued to tickle the baby's ears to keep him drinking her milk.
Outside, a rider approached their cluster of yurts. The rider stopped the horse, nimbly jumped down, and knelt in the snow.
Batu's cousin, who guarded the entrance, reported to Batu, "Leader, Jelme, son of Belgutai, is here to see you."
Without answering, Batu rose, opened the leather and canvas door, and laughed when he saw the guest kneeling. "What are you doing? I'm not an Imperial subject."
The guest laughed, and the two embraced. "How is my sister doing in there?" Batu asked, curious about his half sister from another mother.
"As usual, complaining often," Jelme jested without hesitation.
Batu laughed. "She's fiery, alright. I've always been curious—why did you pick her?"
"I love my wife just like my horses: wild," Jelme explained with a silly grin.
The two laughed without reservation.
From inside the yurt, Batu's wife called out in a lovely voice, "Dear, invite Jelme inside. Tell him to wait a little; I shall make breakfast, and I also need to pack gifts of almonds, sweet cake, and salted meat for your sister."
Batu motioned for the guest to come inside, but Jelme shook his head. "I don’t want to disturb this early."
"Don't be so formal. But really, what brought you here so early?" Batu inquired.
"I need to report that the Noyan's new invention has worked. It kept the wolves at bay; we lost no goats or foals," Jelme's voice was filled with unbridled excitement.
Batu grabbed his in-law's arms. "Are your words for real?"
Jelme nodded and maintained his smile. "Even the elders are impressed."
"What did they say?"
"That the Noyan had brought magical fences from his trip in the sky. A fence as light as vine branches but strong enough to stop a raging horse, and as sharp as thorny bushes."
Batu laughed, almost jumping in joy. They gazed at the barbed wire Batu had erected next to his yurts to protect his horses and goats. As the Lord had suggested, they had used barbed wire attached to their collapsible wooden frames, similar to the ones they used on their yurts. Thus, the barbed wire could be packed and fielded as they moved from place to place.
With the elders' approval, the new fences would face no resistance. This would secure their future. Now, even the dangerous task of guarding the flock was becoming light, even for the youngest among them.
Batu couldn't help but head inside and said to his wife, "Do you hear it? The Noyan has granted us protection from predators. Our men no longer need to die to keep our flocks safe from wolves."
His wife looked at him warmly and, while playing with the sleepy baby, said, "If the Noyan is truly that great, then I hope our child, Lancius, will have at least half his talent."
Batu laughed and then, in great excitement, went out barefooted. He looked at the blue sky and shouted, "The gods in the sky and the land, hear me, hear me out!" His action attracted his tribesmen who went out to watch.
"You have answered our prayers by giving us a Great Noyan to lead us from a wretched life. Now, our fathers have enough soft and warm food to eat in winter, and our children have enough breast milk from their mothers and have warm clothes and blankets to cover their bodies."
More tribesmen emerged into the snow and approached Batu and Jelme. They all affirmed their leader's words by greeting the blue sky, opening both arms, and beginning to dance in a trance.
"I declare our prayers fulfilled and I shall slay a thousand goats to honor your name. I wish the Great Sky and the Great Noyan will continue to guide us to greatness and beyond, and one day may his bloodline lead our grandchildren back to our ancestral home of the sea of grass in the great north."
Energized by his words, his tribesmen responded with a chorus of rich, resonant voices. United in spirit, they lifted their song high into the air, a powerful chant that mingled with the winds, echoing across the vast snow-covered plains.
The once scattered tribesmen had united under a single leader. Many had joined, even from the deep south, swelling their numbers from a mere thousand souls last year to well over seven thousand. They had become more numerous than most cities in Lowlandia. Now, a hope, long dormant within them, burned brightly.
***