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Sebastian ‘Seb Oats’
The Squire
Part II
-A foray beyond the Red Bridge-
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About six months later
28th of Octavus 194 NC
Late summer
Golden Spears Barracks at Quarterport
Praised be the Five!
The young choir of five boys chanted while every monk genuflected before the altar for the morning’s libations. Each offered a quick prayer to Uher and poured scented oil over the burning coals. Then he accepted a small piece of millet-flour bread, called sacrament cake, but it was just a type of hardtack biscuit –oval shaped and hard as stone- that had been left in a gold bowl of red wine to soften well before sunrise. Sometimes the monk responsible for preparing the sacraments overslept or was late and the cakes didn’t have enough time to soften.
Sebastian crunched at his own piece using the back molars to break it apart little by little, then swallowed the grit-like tasteless smaller pieces of cake as fast as he could. Monks with timeworn teeth had been known to soak the cake in their mouths for hours.
Bathed in Uher’s Light!
For another morning shall arrive! The choir sang in unison. They loved to drag the starting and last words in their chants for effect, the pleasant humming increased tenfold inside the small domed temple.
No erstwhile night can forestall!
“So say we all,” Sebastian said bowing his head for the priest of Uher to touch it with his scepter.
“Ever walk with Uher, Brother Bastian.” High Magister Sander te Hove responded with a smile and then ushered him along with a stare. Sebastian walked outside the small temple, blinked at the sun over his head and then headed towards the monks or knights of the Order gathered in small groups where older Brothers decided the chores or missions of the day and assigned them at each group.
Near the wooden gates he spotted Sir Mart Luppe talking with Sir Albert Kosters, Lord Commander of the Order and some meters away Priest Brukel in deep conversation with the Grand Archivist and Assayer Wim Luikens. His old friend Egbert holding the reins of Luikens’ horse. Sebastian paused near them to greet the thin, tired-looking Egbert who had eagerly accepted the Assayer’s offer to work under him thinking that the job would be easier. The title meaning ‘the appraiser of rare metals and elements’, but it was just liturgical jargon to describe what Brother Wim Luikens really was.
Luikens would say he was a scientist himself but everyone knew the bespectacled man was an Alchemist. Which bordered to the Occult but Luikens had special permission from Archmagister and High Inquisitor Kelholt to unlock the secrets of the Archive in Midlanor. The war and circumstances had forced the frail-looking man to leave his research and help the realm just like the rest of them. Sebastian hadn’t seen Luikens for months.
“What is your problem brother?” Priest Brukel asked, a survivor of the battle at 3Roads himself.
“The delivery method is flawed,” Luikens explained and very few could really understand what he was talking about. “It needs my personal scrutiny and this creates dangers I’d rather not have to face.”
“What’s wrong with the hollowed out cords?” Brukel asked.
“Burning fuses.” The Assayer corrected him. “Weather might not be helpful in a month or two for starters,” Luikens elucidated with a glance at Sebastian. “And at this junction I can’t get a stable enough powder mix for transportation and secure placement. It leaks. You slot the fuse inside the box and it causes enough friction for an explosion without any fire at the near due to the amount of material used. If you’ve managed to put it down safely that is. I’ve lost a lot of assistants this way. More tests and volunteers are needed.”
“What about the bolt capsule variant?”
“Soaked silk cloth in a glass vial. Eh, I don’t have the means to produce a large enough vessel for this and all the research was lost at the Pascor debacle. I had given instructions to fire on the populace and not engage the army. The army fires back. Idiocy and incompetence.”
“My first cousin was killed there trying to recover the vials Luikens. The army sent a black toe to his sister!” Brukel admonished him.
“And many of your lofty friends were killed by the Khan. I wasn’t responsible for either event,” Luikens snapped glancing right and then left. “I’m doing god’s work here Brukel!”
Brukel grimaced with a sour look on his face. “Of course. Praised be Uher.”
Luikens was looking at Sebastian now, small eyes uneasy behind the thick glasses. “What do you say on the matter brother Oats?” He asked.
Sebastian shrugged his shoulders. The squire stood much heavier now and taller than the Alchemist but still the bald man unnerved him. There was no warmth behind those enlarged brown eyes.
“I can’t offer opinion brother Luikens.”
“Sometimes it is for the better to stay quiet. Let things fall where they may.”
“We need to convince the High Regent,” Brukel grimaced and run a hand over his thinning white hair. “To look into this with fresh eyes.”
“Give me enough time and I could make it work but don’t expect me to risk my life.” Luikens retorted and turned to Egbert. “Help me up this darn animal.” He ordered and looked at Brukel after getting up on the enlarged saddle. Egbert climbed up in front of him to take the reins. “Let the Archmagister deal with this.”
“I don’t believe he truly understands what you have found,” Brukel grunted.
“Sometimes it is best to let the divine shroud a matter in layers of mystique. A sense of mystery can go a long way to pave the way for progress.” Luikens replied almost repeating his earlier words and tapped Egbert’s shoulder to get them going.
“Seb,” Sir Luppe grunted interrupting Sebastian’s contemplation. “Saddle our horses’ lad. We are heading to town with the Lord Commander.”
“Aye sir,” Sebastian replied readily and walked briskly for the stables.
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> The loss of Sir Mark Est Ravn and the destruction of the 2nd Foot at 3Roads shocked the High Regent. Lord Anker slowly came out of his grief-induced slumber and with the Midlanor forces coalescing near Quarterport, several proposals were put forth to regain the advantage. Whilst Duke Rinus Van De Aesst kept asking for more time to prepare a response from the fleet, it was evident to all that such an action was further into the future. With Holsman and Verner under siege at Jaw Castle some suggested to brave a landing at the rocky shores in the hopes to resupply the defenders but it was deemed too dangerous to risk assets with no viable port there or a way to reach the castle from the sea.
>
> The army made forays across the Red Bridge but with no major settlement located in the massive parcel of land between the two rivers both opponents avoided a permanent presence there. The ‘No Man’s Land’ was easier for the Khan’s forces to control given their advantage in horses and they used forced labor to construct two forts or war camps there. One near Mid Bridge and Chinos River and the other twenty kilometers from the Red Bridge. The latter was raided twice by Lord Anker’s men and the Horselords had to abandon the half-finished camp after losing twenty thousand prisoners/slaves in total that fled towards Red Bridge in the confusion following each engagement.
>
>
>
> While they were welcomed, the huge influx of refugees, almost a hundred thousand had crossed over already the previous months, weighed down Lord Anker’s supply situation. In order to deal with this he ordered the hapless populace to relocate towards Midlanor. A grueling many hundreds of kilometers journey across Kaletha Plains. Many of the refugees turned west after Sessi Fort to settle near Trinir but enough kept going in long miserable caravans that clogged the road and made it to Uher’s Bridge the northernmost bridge over mighty Comorego River almost a year later.
>
> Midlanor a very large city by itself was to approach half-a-million people in population despite egregious losses in the battles to come in a short two or three years span. The same as with Pastelor, Farvor and Greywood Castle while further to the south Trinir a small town initially would reach Caspo ‘O Bor’s size at the end of 2nd century’s last decade.
>
>
>
> The Khan, despite wanting to keep Issir’s Eagle working for him, welcomed the lessening of the burden and even with one fifth of the population remaining the Issir capital was a massive city. With its farms on the west side between Uxrid and Chinos rivers touching Eagle’s Bridge and Eagleport, the Issir capital covered most of the area between the two rivers.
>
> Settlements were built outside the walls as far south as Granlake’s forest and to its docks on the banks of Smallake beyond the King’s Forests that connected the capital via the sailable Serpent’s Tongue River with the large city of Riverdor further to the East.
>
> There were three ways to reach Riverdor for the Khan. Use the aforementioned merchant river route or march his army to Eagle’s Nest Castle and take it. From there two more routes became the available. The obvious been to head for the bridge over Mudriver and attempt to force a crossing there against the sturdy Forestfort or traverse Granlake’s Marshes toward the rises of the Knob and come out of the watery woodland in the Small Plains, forty kilometers from the city.
>
> The latter was deemed impossible for a big army and attacking the Crows at Forestfort was something few believed it was viable. But Burzin wanted the army to cut Kaltha in two and so the Khanate generals started preparing for a new campaign to the south. The task was given to Prince Radin’s friend Havor Dhin-Aval of Rin An-Pur and his Reserve Army. The rest of the Khan’s horde was split in two parts.
>
> The smaller force to attempt to break out Lord Putra from Boarsnout Peninsula and the other to destroy Lord Anker’s gathering forces beyond the Red Bridge. The Khan ordered Admiral Osahar to bring reinforcements from Rida. The pressured Osahar, who had seen a number of his southern squadron ships (tasked with supplying Lord Putra) get taken or outright sunk by the Pirate Fleet’s raid at Deadmen’s Watch, ordered Binra-Kot to secure the sea route from the Duchy of Raoz.
>
> The now famed Binra-Kot who was still reorganizing his battered Attack Fleet moved in force out of Eagleport leaving six warships behind and relocated to Colle. From there a large convoy left towards Whitford, in the most direct route possible, tasked with escorting the transport fleet there and return. The warships would make the journey and four months later would come back without most of the transports as they were held back to be refitted. Rida had been in the process of creating a new fleet there but Prince Atpa who had relocated rather fast to Shao Na-Lan and then Rin An-Pur after a big period of inactiveness now delayed the supply of materials and personnel. He cited the losses due to the Rebellion and his efforts to rebuilt Que Ki-La. To combat that the Khan had timely dispatched his influential First Advisor Phanti to Rida with the convoy.
>
> Phanti would task Duke Reeves in turn with finding a solution and the latter would promptly secure timber from the Duchy elevating his position in Burzin’s eyes. Even so the inevitable delay forced the Khan to stay in Issir’s Eagle, get the capital running in the Khanate’s model in a forceful manner and deal with the siege at Jaw Castle, now in its sixth month.
>
> This ‘inaction’ by the Horselords fueled those pressuring Lord Anker for a response. The Issirs wanted to bloody the Khan’s army that had crept up closer to Red Bridge. With the summer time waning down and the rains of Fall now at the gates the opportunity was seemingly slipping away.
>
>
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On their ride to Quarterport they met soldiers marching the opposite way and their large group of armed brothers had to slow down to a crawl when they encountered long lines of refugees going the other way or camping in the open. They clogged up the narrow streets of the town but they would soon move north as well.
“That’s the Third Division,” Sir Luppe explained and Sebastian nodded, his youthful face shaded under the hood of his plain hemp robes. “Mostly from Midlanor.”
“How far is it sir?” Sebastian asked and the knight pressed his mouth thoughtfully. Sir Luppe was in his late thirties, a member of the Golden Spears Order since his youth. Himself hailing from Greywood Castle.
“Weeks away on a horse. Beyond the plains. You’ll the see smokes rising before you see the city,” the knight continued. “And behind the haze the white Arid Peaks.”
“What’s beyond the mountains?” Sebastian queried.
“Krakenhall. The devil’s spawn rules there.” Sir Luppe replied soberly and Sir Albert Kosters laughed at his expression riding on the other side. The Lord Commander was a much younger man, his family from Fardor a large village east of Midlanor and a longtime friend of the Est Ravn.
“Let him read some of it up Sir Luppe. Form his own opinion on the realm’s affairs,” he suggested. “The mind needs sharpening as well.”
“At this point sharpening his sword skills is much more crucial Albert. And the godless wench has two bastards on display in her court. They stroll about naked is the word.”
“Eh. Maybe because they are kids Mart? You hear him?” Sir Kosters chuckled. “The older the head gets, the more difficult to give praise, yield respect or be understanding, young brother Oats. In that sense you’re truly blessed Mart likes you.”
“The lad had no say in his upbringing but she did.” Sir Luppe argued gruffly.
“I appreciate the opportunity to serve Uher and the order Lord Commander,” Sebastian said quickly and Sir Kosters grimaced, his gaze settling at the many beggars, the dirty homeless and the refugees or escaped slaves that packed the streets of Quarterport all about them.
“Difficult to hear the Allfather’s voice these past years,” the knight said raspingly. “Or make much sense of things.”
“The High Regent’s banner hangs at the front of the admiralty’s building Lord Commander,” priest Brukel announced bringing his horse near them.
“We’ll go ahead together Brukel. Sir Luppe, you’ll lead the men to the stables and then follow after us orderly.” Kosters ordered and turned to his own squire Jordi. “Come along then. We gaze who else is there already and then you’ll bring our horses to the stables as well.”
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“The Lord Commander seems worried.” Sebastian commented as they made the return trip from the navy’s stables behind the large building towards the entrance. Twenty soldier monks of the Order’s mounted infantry following after them.
“Heavy is the head that holds a lofty position,” Sir Luppe explained and eyed his garbs critically. “I reckon ye should’ve used that horse brush on yourself lad.”
“Aye sir,” Sebastian agreed with a blush and worked his hands on the folds of his dirty robes. “I’ll stand at the back.”
Sir Luppe cracked a rare smile at that. “You be standing at the back anyway squire. Lower that hood and don’t gaze at your betters. Or ask uncomfortable questions. Any questions.”
“Apologies brother Luppe.”
“Hmm. Not your fault lad and you were in the right afore,” the knight said as they approached the guarded entrance of the gloomy building. Sebastian thought that the older man wouldn’t elucidate any further but then he did. “The commander is always nervous when he’s to face the Grand Duke.”
“Because of Sir Shane? That wasn’t the commander’s fault.” Sebastian asked and the knight stopped before the stairs and the guards staring at them. He placed a gloved hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and gazed into his eyes for a long sober moment. Then the knight cupped his cheek and gave it a light tap.
“Where did you hear that?” He finally asked, signing with a wave of his arm for the other members to wait outside the building in an orderly manner.
“All squires and initiates talk about him.” A flushed Sebastian replied. The Priest Knight of Midlanor who martyred defending the late High Queen from the heathens.
“Not a healthy thing yearning after a dead man or woman.” Sir Luppe replied soberly. “Or dreaming of another man’s deeds, such as you’ve heard them. No tale comes close to the truth lad, unless it falls from Uher’s mouth.”
“Praised be Uher,” a chastised Sebastian blurted out and some of the members of the Order chuckled seeing him all hot and bothered like a maiden.
“Come,” Sir Luppe told him with another light slap on his cheek. “That’s the High Inquisitor’s banner next to the Duke’s. Uher’s Archmagister. Him you should be even more cautious around.”
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The murmurs died down inside the conference hall and the large rectangular table when a side door opened wide abruptly and the sentinel banged the steel butt of the spear on the tiled floor twice.
“The High Regent. His eminent lordship, Duke Anker Est Ravn.”
Sebastian who wasn’t sitting at the table reserved for Lords, high members of the Church and knights but at the other side of the hall next to a wall, stood on his tips to gawk at the Lord of Midlanor walking towards the head of the table to take his seat there.
“He has priestly robes on,” he told Jordi, the taller than him squire shrugging his shoulders. More than two years older than Sebastian, Jordi was a bulky young man with the starts of a thick beard on his face. “Ashen-grey with an ugly dead tree stitched on them?”
“These are the heads of the Ashen Hydra not tree branches you darn fool,” Jordi corrected him with a shove. Sir Luppe swung his solemn face around to glare at them warningly.
Sebastian was focused on the Lords table. Sir Albert Kosters was sitting on the other corner of the table with Magister Sander te Hove, Priest Brukel and Wim Luikens occupying the other seats next to the aged Archmagister Kelholt who was seated directly across the long table from the Duke. Sir Ton Van De Aesst, Sir Thor Est Ravn were on the Duke’s right side of the table but Sebastian couldn’t see them clearly, with a third ancient-looking knight lodged between them. They faced Lord Rinus’ adjutant Oliver Svane and the scowling Baron Dan AredRavn of Farvor. Everyone waited for the Duke to be appraised of the later developments by his Shield, Baron Sherman Grote of Greywood Castle. Lord Anker had a reserved expression on, his white beard well-trimmed but heavy-wrinkles hugged his cobalt-colored eyes and the skin there formed dark hollows.
“The ships?” Lord Anker asked without any warning still reading what Baron Grote had held in front of him.
Oliver Svane got up from his seat. A young officer with a smart blue outfit and white lapels, stood out from the more conservatively dressed men at the large table. He was also wearing the less-armour by a lot.
“We have eight brigs available and four more warships are being repaired,” he started without consulting his papers. “Seven more are in the naval yards and the Duke has secured funds and materials for a dozen more.”
“Timeframe?”
“Six to eight months,” Captain Svane replied readily.
“Winter of 195 and if,” Lord Anker grunted and despite his face remaining blank there was anger lacing his words. Everyone fearing an outburst shifted nervously in their chairs or on their feet. Sebastian felt his calves crumbing from standing on his toes for so long. “King Lucius writes me he can field over a dozen heavy warships immediately,” he continued in the same deceptively reserved manner. “How is Regia able to put more and better ships in the water than us Captain?”
“Regia hasn’t faced the Khan my lord or fought a naval engagement.”
“They have against Lesia,” Baron Grote argued.
“A smaller conflict near friendly waters,” Captain Svane countered calmly. “And we’ve lost Krakenhall my Lord Regent.”
“You’ve written to Zofia?” Lord Anker asked his Shield.
“I have. She’s prepared to assist our cause after the winter but reminds us that Sallowhall is within her domain.”
“Access to Eleurhall isn’t enough it seems,” Lord Anker commented. “Our Duchess is thirsty for more.”
“We could allow her ships to moor your grace in exchange for larger shipments of iron.” Baron Grote suggested.
“Can one of you two fools head up there and sweep her off her feet?” Lord Anker asked abruptly turning his head towards the two knights sitting on his right side. “I’d prefer her tied to Kaltha a bit more before giving out the whole blasted dowry.”
“She has children already,” the unseen Sir Thor protested. “Of mixed race.”
“Don’t you?” His father argued. “At least hers came out the right color.”
It was rumored Sir Thor had a son with a Cofol woman whilst serving on Eplas. The kid brought back and hidden somewhere in Midlanor.
“If the Duke wants me to marry the Shewolf,” an insulted Sir Thor replied curtly. “I’ll marry her.”
“I don’t see you surviving the ceremony son,” his father argued without raising his voice.
“You need to ally the Duchess,” the ancient knight suggested speaking directly to Lord Anker. “You can survive a tasteless friend beyond the Nordland Pass, but can’t afford another enemy.”
Sebastian frowned and looked with interest at the timeworn warrior then at the silent Regent.
“That’s Sir Reinir Tellman,” Jordi whispered. “The Iron Griffin of Pastelor.”
Wow. Sebastian thought impressed.
“What about King Lucius?” Lord Anker asked the old knight. “Duke Charles writes me there’s a legion roaming about near Timberville and Duke Holt has army vacationing at Aldenfort.”
“If Lucius offered to help then that’s more than what Charles has done these past months,” the old knight responded.
“Tell Rinus to give a rough timeline to King Lucius. Let’s see how he responds and whether he’s candid,” Lord Anker ordered Captain Svane and he bowed his head afore returning to his seat.
“What of the other Duchess my lord?” Baron Grote asked.
“Lady Crull must see to her domain and look to find herself a husband. Their aggression brought me enough headaches, I could do with some good news.”
“Lord Anker if I may offer a word?” Sir Ton asked getting up.
“You’re volunteering to court her?” Lord Anker asked a little surprised.
“Ahm. I’m not… particular to the cold your grace,” the young noble replied.
“I’m sure her hall is warm enough,” Lord Anker insisted, seemingly favoring the idea. “Or we could ship you to Krakenhall. It would be a good match. Better than… what was her name Grote?”
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“Dora of Hardwood my Lord,” the Baron replied stiffly.
“That sounds about right,” Lord Anker nodded sourly, his face not a blank mask anymore. “She came to my door, belly swollen to the point of bursting,” he hissed and the knight collapsed to his seat. “I sent you two to Eplas and you made a mess of it. You rascals take the task of training the Foot at Sessi amidst the blasted chanting priesthood for crying out loud and I had to travel there personally to see what the hold up was. I wanted to finally get the army moving given that the realm is on fire, in case you two missed it and instead of soldiers I found the woods filled with bastards!” He roared furious and banged his fist on the table.
A heavy silence befell the hall with no one wanting to break it. The Archmagister did after a long moment.
“The Church shall take care of the offspring,” he announced in a peaceful manner.
“I gave the Church a son already. Kaltha another one. I’ll keep the bastard with your blessings Kelholt,” Lord Anker hissed not in a merciful mood.
“We know where the Heathen is,” the unfazed Kelholt continued clasping at his staff with both wrinkled hands. “They are desecrating the capital and the shrines, make slaves of its citizens and force their sinful ways on our faithful daughters.” He paused to stare at the men looking at him soberly. “Uher shall forgive those that drive the foreign Heathen away and its light shall cleanse the land of their presence.”
“My Lord we could strike their camp,” Sir Ton offered getting up again. “Their army remains near the capital.”
“They’ll see us coming,” Lord Anker argued.
“They obviously won’t attack this summer my Lord.”
“The weather is fine Sir Ton,” Baron Grote reminded him.
“They are busy with the capital and the siege,” Sir Ton insisted. “Lord Ruud has them pinned down at Castalor.”
“If the army takes the bridge over Chinos River,” Kelholt added. “The Church can blast their defenses open and we could retake the city.”
“I’m not going to level the capital Kelholt,” Lord Anker grunted. “Have you gone insane? After what happened at Colle?”
“The rebels your grace have denounced the Throne,” the Archmagister countered with a grimace. “They commune with pirates and alien flesh-eaters, they are worse than the Khanate’s heathens.”
“They are Issirs just like we are!” Lord Anker blasted him and got up from his seat. “And we were talking about the capital priest. What good is winning the war if we are to reign over our countrymen’s bones and ashes?”
Sebastian gulped down and turned his head to stare at Jordi but instead came face to face with a sincere but pretty Issir woman clad in chainmail. The fierce woman looked at him with cerulean eyes and Sebastian grinned afore he caught sight of Sir Luppe staring at him gravely.
“Get outside both of you,” the knight ordered them gruffly and Jordi grabbed his arm to push him out of the tensed hall.
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“Eh, that was pretty intense.” Jordi commented once outside and stretched his arms. “What?” He asked seeing Sebastian looking over his shoulder. The older squire turned his head around and stared at the armed woman Sebastian was gawking at. With a roll of his eyes he reached with a hand and gave Sebastian a hard slap on the shoulder.
“Hey,” Sebastian griped and she turned to look at them again reproachfully.
“Lady Siske, Uher’s light upon you,” Jordi said respectfully and bowed his head.
The woman remained silent but for a slight nod of her head.
“Come let’s give her some room,” Jordi told him and Sebastian followed after the other squire shuffling his feet. They stopped some meters away down the corridor and Jordi got a piece of sacrament cake out to munch on.
“So,” Sebastian asked, still interested in the impressive armed female. “Who is she?”
“First of all,” Jordi replied in between chomps. “She’s much older than you.”
“What’s that…? I’m not…”
“You’re a member of the Order. No women,” Jordi reminded him.
“I wasn’t…” Sebastian protested remembering to keep his voice low. He felt his cheeks burn with shame.
“Plus she’s married ayup. To a knight no less,” Jordi added gulping down with difficulty. “She also happens to be Sir Tellman’s daughter.”
Sebastian stood back surprised. The door swung open and that ancient knight got out. He paused briefly and the woman rushed to his side.
“What did they say?” She asked her father. Sir Tellman glanced at the two squires soberly for a brief moment and then he replied in a rasping voice.
“There was a development. So they’ll make a foray beyond the bridge soon,” the knight told her. “You’ll get that lighter armour out. Leave the chainmail with Rupert.”
“I’ll come along,” Siske declared looking at him intently.
“Rupert gets the leather then,” her father yielded with a tired grimace. “Bring a helm. Expect arrows.”
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1st of Nonus (Ninth month of the year)
Fall of 194 NC
The lightly wooded grassland near the delta of Chinos River
Fifteen kilometers west from the walled camp guarding Mid Bridge and the route to the capital
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Sebastian’s horse trotted past the reed-teeming banks of the river following after the other steeds moving in front of it. The dirt path used by fishermen and animals looking for better spots for food at the delta behind them. Rain had fallen the previous night but it was a short downpour that had quickly gone away. The terrain remaining unchanged for the most part. At the distance and right in front of their group a flash of light appeared in the night and then another. Soon after a great roar rang over the land and the big river. The leading rider raised his left arm high and stopped his horse. Everyone following stopped as well, one after the other.
“You heard that?” Jordi asked riding close to him and Sebastian shook his head that he had.
“Uher’s Light,” Jordi added with a nervous grin.
“I called it the mother of all thunders,” Sebastian argued.
“It’s the Assayer,” Jordi explained with a frown not expecting the younger squire’s reply and Sir Luppe rode near them all serious.
“Check your saddlebags,” the knight ordered brusquely. “Find that long-shafted axe and keep it at the near. We might have a fight in our hands.”
“How far is the—?”
Sir Luppe cut him off with an angry grunt and pointed an arm across the river. The distant banks illuminated by many small torches. The row of torches approached, blinking in the darkness beyond the black waters and then turned into a single dancing line that started going over the deep river.
A miracle.
“What’s this accursed deviltry?” Jordi gasped in shock and Sir Luppe reached in the stunned Sebastian’s saddlebags and pulled his spear out.
“Snap out of it Seb!” He roared and turned his warhorse around. “Tonight you kill the fear!”
“Snakes in my pants. The bastards made another bridge!” Jordi cursed and galloped near Sir Albert Kosters that yelled for the brother soldiers and brother knights of the Order to prepare to receive enemy cavalry. A tensed Sebastian followed soon after going towards Sir Luppe.
> There is no clear warning for violence’s approach. A weak sign might appear deceptively. A fiendish sound, a distorted horse’s figure or a faceless friend. A ghoul wearing the skin of a man. Some sudden otherworldly cry or the soft clanging of metal nearby. Either way there’s always a brief, death flavored pause following it right before violence touches you.
>
> Sometimes there’s no warning at all.
>
>
The Horselord’s horse burst out of the reeds, mud and broken stems exploding outwards, the rider’s robes billowing behind him and the scimitar’s blade gleaming doused in Oras Eye pale light. Sebastian rotated his own mount pulling hard at the reins, his heart thundering inside his chest like a hammer but the Horselord reached him in a short breath. The horse’s chest almost crashing his right leg when it connected with the sides of the squire’s mount.
Sebastian cried out scared, the scimitar coming down and hacking at his hapless horse’s head taking its right ear clean off. He swung wide with the axe, the shaft turning in his grip and the poll connecting with the returning scimitar.
A sharp clanging sound he felt on his shoulder and the hurt horse dashed away almost dropping him from the saddle. Sebastian grunted trying to hold on but a moment later the horse toppled forward on its front legs, its heart giving out from the shock and he found himself rolling in the mud.
The squire got up, fumbled with the axe in his panic and another Khanate archer appeared over him, the scimitar raised high over the rider’s head. Sebastian dived instinctively for the man’s waist, the scimitar coming down but missing him, the archer’s elbow digging in the desperate squire’s left shoulder. The teenager heaved and shoved, feeling his injured arm burning and the Horselord tumbled over the saddle, his boot smacking Sebastian on the chest. He stumbled backwards breathing heavy, all about him chaos unfolding with riders clashing in the dark and the sound of horses, men and heavy scrap flooding the squire’s senses.
Sebastian stooped to find his axe with ogling eyes, heard galloping and twisted on his feet, a huge horse almost trampling him under its hooves. The squire cried out, teeth clenched in a permanent snarl and frothing from the sides of the mouth.
There it is the darn axe, he thought and dived on the ground for it as if it was fresh cabbage and he was back in the capital stealing food for a living. He grabbed it with both hands and swung at the returning armoured warhorse but the blade bounced off of a metal sheet covering the beast’s broad chest with another clang. Sebastian let out a maniacal groan fueled by fear and adrenalin and went to swing again but got a leather boot in the face instead.
The groaning squire was hurled back, lips split and a tooth lodged in his tongue. He spat down and the archer he’d unhorsed came at him holding a curved long dagger. The Horselord had lost his scimitar in the tumble alike Sebastian but he’d plenty of voice in him and he let out a drawn out roar afore rushing the disoriented squire.
You got a plaguing axe, his dazed mind reminded him in the voice of Sir Luppe.
Swing the darn axe.
Sebastian swung the long-shafted weapon in front of him using both arms, in a wide right to left arc and felt the bit connect with the archer’s left ribcage with a thudding crunch. The Horselord coughed up a spat of blood and folded the wrong way dropping the dagger. The squire yanked at the axe to retrieve it but his opponent took the weapon with him as he collapsed on the ground.
Eh.
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“Bite on this,” Sir Luppe grunted ten minutes later and tried to insert a piece of cloth in his mouth. “Spit it out. What is it?” He ordered when a moaning Sebastian turned his head away.
He showed him the broken tooth, gulping down blood.
“Could have been a dagger,” the Knight retorted slapping the bloody tooth out of his hand. “Use the cloth. Find a horse and get the bags on it.”
“Whaht… teht…” Sebastian mumbled, not easy to speak whilst pressing the cloth on his tongue.
“They use a pontoon bridge to move forces about,” Sir Luppe explained walking briskly towards the rest of the men. They were gathered around Sir Albert Kosters. They had lost seven brothers in the scrap but they pushed the Horselord patrol back when the Cataphract leading them went down. Sir Luppe carried his sword on his waist and that silver mask. “They do it to hide who comes and goes inside the camp. Them bastards use all the tricks.”
“Sir Thor has attacked already,” the Lord Commander was telling the others. “So we have to stick around here and keep an eye for a response to try to cross this way.”
“They could use the other bridge sir,” Dumont pointed out, one of the senior men-at-arms serving with the Order.
“Our men are watching it so they’ll know. But we need to warn them about more enemies coming to flank them.”
“I reckon more could be hiding in the woods,” Sir Luppe rustled and Sir Albert looked at him tensed.
“You head for the camp to warn them. I’ll stall the Horselords here or retreat if it turns ugly. Tell them to pull back brother Mart.”
“The lad needs a horse,” the knight rustled.
“Dumont?” The Lord Commander queried gravely.
“Peters is with Uher now. He got speared in the face. The horse is fine.”
“Get on that saddle Seb,” Sir Luppe ordered curtly. “Jordi help him load the bags.”
“No time for that,” Sir Albert intervened. “You need to get going Mart. Now.”
-
> After a summer of dealing with the fall of Issir’s Eagle, the refugee crisis and minor raids back and forth, the Duchy’s Heir Sir Thor Est Ravn who had a strained relation with his father due to his mishandling of personal affairs, the burden of losing two of his brothers and the public scrutiny brought by a disastrous campaign on Eplas, proposed a deep attack across No Man’s land to neutralize the Khanate’s fort (a walled camp) guarding Mid River.
>
> Around a thousand mounted infantry from the 3rd Foot were to be used and six hundred men-at-arms or knights along most of the Golden Spears. The attack force was split in three groups. Sir Thor commanded the main group, his friend Sir Ton Van De Aesst (Duke Rinus’ second son) the weaker east group that was to use the Crimson Forest to approach and had with him the infamous Alchemist Wim Luikens. The mounted religious warriors of the Order of Golden Spears under Sir Albert Kosters were to sweep the west flank near the coast, reach the delta of Chinos River and then join Sir Thor following its banks.
>
> A scouting team of heavy cavalry under Sir Reinir Tellman crossed Red Bridge the previous day and destroyed a Khanate worker force (mainly) trying to capture and repair the ruined second camp. Then it retreated. That same night while the Horselords contemplated a way to secure the safety of their working crews Sir Thor’s small mobile army crossed the Red Bridge. They advanced rapidly during the night and remained passive for the next day. Being the last day of summer most of the Horselords and their Cofol allies remained passive without a response due to their festivities in the capital. They assumed (the Issirs believed that) that no more action was coming so soon after the Iron Griffin’s raid.
>
> The truth was different.
>
>
>
>
>
> The Khan had tasked the Chief of Scouts Muvelo, a veteran of 3Roads, with reforming his rangers into a larger force with the addition of late Tehenor’s horse archers. This new powerful mobile unit (around three thousand men) gave Muvelo the ability to move fast across large distances in seemingly great force but lacked the cohesion, the nuances of unconventional warfare and close combat abilities of his core group of trained in all-terrains rangers.
>
> The Horse Archers excelled in larger distant engagements over open ground, long pursuits and attacking immobilized soft targets. They loathed fighting in tights spaces, over water or closing in with hardened enemies and they were still shaken from losing half their force against late Sir Mark Est Ravn months earlier. Despite that the mobile force looked great on paper and Prince Radin ordered Muvelo to move into No Man’s land right after Sir Tellman’s raid and keep an eye on the Issirs. Muda Zeket did the same and used the main bridge over Chinos River to march a thousand Jang Lu into the camp with Muvelo utilizing a two hundred meters long pontoon bridge some kilometers west from the walled camp to traverse the river.
>
> Several of the engineers and military scholars following the Khan had studied the late Prince Nout’s unfinished writings on ‘Mobile Warfare’ that preached the earnestness of ‘moving and be where the enemy least expects you’. Muvelo had brought six hundred riders over Chinos River making the crossings in small groups but both opponents missed each other during the day in the grasslands.
>
> The Golden Spears clashed with Muvelo’s men pushing some of them back. The Horse Archers were reluctant to cross the pontoon bridge to attack the waiting for them Issirs and Muvelo who was already across with his rangers found himself cut off for a second time. This time though he had remained unseen.
>
> In the meantime, Sir Thor approached the walled camp and tried to take it with a sudden attack to catch the defenders disorganized after Bacchanalia (or Valimae Lilt as they called it in Eplas.)
>
> The Horselords (mainly the working crews, slaves and civilians) were pretty mirthful but Sir Tellman’s earlier raid had kept the Jang Lu on their toes. Despite that Sir Thor managed to get inside the camp and advance half a kilometer through the gates only to get face to face with a wall of sharp Halberds. Realizing he was about to be cut off inside the vast camp, with four meter tall walls surrounding his men and wooden towers every thirty meters (ten towers facing the front of the fortified camp alone) that could lob arrows inwards at the very least, Sir Thor ordered his men to retreat. They did making a failed attempt to set the place on fire. The main gates towers, some large tents and nearby buildings were put to the torch but the matter was easily managed by the defenders initially.
>
> Sir Thor quickly reorganized his heavier cavalry units and ordered his mounted infantry to advance on the alarmed ‘fort’ on foot. The Issirs attacked within thirty minutes under fire from the towers and the local commander prepared his own men for a counter attack. He also notified the two hundred Royal Cataphracts under Cephas Mirpur (brother of Horus) that were camped across Mid Bridge of the situation. The Cataphracts crossed the large stone bridge immediately and headed for the south gates of the walled camp (the backside gates facing the road to the river.)
>
> With the scrap turning into a proper battle, the Issir infantry reaching the burning gates under fire and clashing with the Jang Lu that had moved to block them and the local commander waiting by the south gates for reinforcements to arrive, nobody paid any attention to the woods five hundred meters away on the large camp’s east side.
>
> Sir Ton’s group that had crept close under the cover of night, the trees and the confusion ordered his men to attack the loosely defended east wall and scale it with makeshift rope ladders. Wim Luikens who was present offered an alternative. While the alchemist’s role in the war has always been shrouded in mystery and horrific loss of life, the reality is thirty minutes later a large portion of the sturdy east wall of the camp disappeared. Some describe a great light coming down from the sky, others insist it was a lighting or a guided fire spell with everyone agreeing that a devastating sound was heard followed by another one.
>
> The hellish blast wave dug a hole in the earth, pulverized the timber walls, turning large four meter long thick wood pieces into thin sharp bolts that exploded inwards decimating the rear areas of the Jang Lu. The civilian and slave quarters district of the camp melted. Four hundred casualties occurring in seconds and over a hundred of them killed outright. Buildings collapsed or set alight like candle sticks. Such was the shock at the abrupt wave of destruction that both armies stopped fighting for a while. The Jang Lu recovered first somewhat and broke through the stunned rather green Issir infantry that turned around to run for their horses in panic. The also rattled Jang Lu though made little progress as they got stopped by Sir Thor’s cavalry that charged them a hundred meters outside the burning gates.
>
> Chaos ensued.
>
>
>
> Sir Ton’s Van De Aesst's soldiers of the east group managed to reach the leveled and smoldering opening that had appeared in the gutted east walls of the Horselords’ camp abandoning the safety of the forest but got caught in their turn by Mirpur’s arriving Cataphracts and got shattered losing over fifty men. Cephas Mirpur’s advance got bogged down very soon in the confusing battlefield, with both opponents mingling with maimed slaves and screaming badly burned or dismembered civilians that attempted to break out of the burning camp. Sir Ton received a grave injury at some point and all cohesion broke down.
>
> His friend Sir Thor Est Ravn who had been informed of Muvelo’s rangers lurking to his rear and west flank ordered his men to disengage from the mauled Jang Lu that had been pushed back inside the camp, but not before making an attempt to break out Sir Ton’s east group. They were in danger of being cut off. The opportunity to attempt a rescue given due to Sir Albert Kosters retreating Golden Spears (on the west flank of Sir Thor) managing to intercept Muvelo’s force that in their turn had just ambushed the fleeing Issir infantry. In the battle that followed the fearful of having Tehenor’s fate Muvelo ordered his men to disengage when he realized that the Horse Archers hadn’t made the crossing after his rangers.
>
> The Golden Spears were winning the engagement as they had brought to bear five hundred well-trained mounted infantry and men-at-arms to Muvelo’s about six hundred split in three groups’ rangers.
>
> Almost two kilometers behind this scrap, the unquestionably brave Sir Thor had personally led a force of three hundred men that fell upon Mirpur’s worn-out from their scrap and travel Cataphracts. The Horselords suffered casualties despite fighting bravely and were pushed back but Sir Thor’s attacking force, not much fresher if not even more tired by now, almost melted and were saved by Mirpur ordering a withdrawal near the bridge. The skilled cavalry leader (both of Lord Mirpur’s surviving sons were superb equestrians) knew that the Heavy Lancers of Sepa had been alerted by the brouhaha and would be coming to assist them sooner rather than later.
>
> In the frenzied last couple of hours of that night several men were split between what logic dictated, saving their men and lives, helping their friends or just serving a higher purpose that perhaps demanded the ultimate sacrifice.
>
>
-
“There lad!” Sir Luppe ordered, his sword hacking at a Cataphract’s helm, the metal distorting and the blade lodging slantwise in the man’s right shoulder. “Help him out!”
A grim-faced Sebastian reached down to grab a spear and snapped his knees to get his horse moving again. The spear ripped out of the dead Horselord’s chest, yanking his right arm back as the squire moved forward. Sebastian grunted and brought the long weapon in front of him using both his arms. The horse galloped freely, the squire bobbing up and down the saddle dangerously. He freed his left arm to get a hold of the reins and the hacking furiously at the head of Egbert Cataphract heard Sebastian coming up behind him. The apprentice had tried to protect the running away Luikens. The smiling mask glanced at the approaching squire and snapped his spurred heels to get out of Sebastian’s way.
Egbert collapsed to his knees behind him, half of his face missing and the rest of it a gory mess. Sebastian bellowed in anger and turned his galloping fast horse to pursue the fleeing Cataphract. He was gaining fast and the Horselord kept going in a wide circle, finally twisting around on the saddle holding a light wooden crossbow.
Uher’s kind grace, Sebastian thought respectfully and then added in a more vulgar, semi-incoherent but loud manner when the bolt grazed the top of his head.
“Fuacrkh!”
Fuck, was his meaning.
The bolt frayed away a straight stripe of hair along the skin. It was like having your skull sawed in but not fully. Sebastian felt the pain numbing the joints of his jaw. With a curse the Cataphract dropped the crossbow and got a three-headed flail out of his saddlebags, his weapons arsenal seemingly inexhaustible, and then immediately attempted a sharper turn with his horse.
The Horselord probably expected the young squire to disengage or break of his attack but the half-blinded, ear-ringing and head hurting Sebastian didn’t. The thought didn’t even cross his cloudy mind. The incensed squire just charged at the fast turning large target and crashed on the armoured Horselord with such force, the impact sent Sebastian flying over the skewered Cataphract.
The spear left behind, half of it protruding out the Khanate’s knight’s sides. Sebastian half-turned midair before ‘landing’ on the muddy ground in an uncontrolled tumble, one of the fingers in his injured arm snapping the wrong way and his hurt mouth covered in bloody mire.
“Gaah!” The rattled squire coughed jumping to his feet, taking a step and then going back down on a knee with a pained groan.
“Where is he?” Sir Luppe grunted afore Sebastian had the time to remember how he had gotten there himself. Or how to stand. The ground turning all about him and the dark shades of the forest dressed in red hue from the flames incinerating the camp’s buildings.
“Egbert is hurt bad,” he managed to croak and the tired knight grabbed his shoulder hard to help him up. Sebastian stared at his throbbing mid finger drooping right and left on his closed fist stupidly.
“Egbert is dead,” Sir Luppe informed him soberly. “Where is the Assayer Seb?”
“He ran into the woods,” Sebastian mumbled trying to process everything that had occurred in a few short hours and the knight cursed irate. He stood up and looked at the waning scrap all about them. Everyone was looking to disengage as fast as they could.
“Take that scimitar and find your horse,” Sir Luppe grunted and marched towards the nearby trees. Yells and cries from the survivors followed after them, with the more coherent voices ordering the men to regroup for a retreat.
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“Wrap your finger with it,” Sir Luppe said pausing to clean some of the blood from Sebastian’s face. “Stop crying. Uher is with you.”
The knight helped him bandage the swollen finger, then secure it using two of the nearby ones. After he finished the knight checked about them.
“LUIKENS!” He bellowed walking deeper inside the trees, his voice ringing inside the dark woods. The sound of fighting had subsided and the morning wasn’t but a couple of hours away at the most. You wouldn’t know it under the thick canopy and but for the light of the fires behind them no other light reached the place. “God damnit,” Sir Luppe cursed with a grimace of frustration.
“LUIKENS!” He roared again even louder and the trees whistled in response, the soft breeze scaring his horse. The knight returned near the hurting squire and checked on him.
“I’m fine,” Sebastian assured Sir Luppe through his clenched teeth. “Just a bit of pain but nothing I can’t handle.” He added with a shuddering groan.
“Sir Ton was killed. Body got dragged away,” the knight murmured. “We need to get Est Ravn going. Thor doesn’t believe his friend is dead but he is. The Horselords will react in force.”
There was a ‘but’ in there and it loomed between them for a moment.
“But we need to find brother Luikens,” Sebastian murmured, sucking on his bleeding lip.
“That’s his doing. The dead mules also. All of it,” the knight explained.
“Uher’s Light,” the squire added remembering Jordi’s words.
“Maybe. But I see no god’s hand in this,” Sir Luppe grunted and they heard Luikens’ whispering voice coming from somewhere above them.
“Brother Luppe?”
“Wim?” The Knight snapped and looked about him. “Where in the Allgods mercy are you?”
“I climbed the tree,” Luikens explained sounding stressed. “But I can’t come down.”
“Which tree?” The Knight roared, now infuriated. “Why didn’t you reply afore?”
“I waited to see if it was clear,” the Assayer explained coolly and then elucidated. “I’ve left my bag under it. It’s easy to find.”
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“What if someone stumbled upon the bag?” Sir Luppe hissed as they returned to where Sebastian had left their horses at the edge of the forest. “What if he looked into it?”
“Then he would have found some of my vials,” the alchemist explained indifferently. “But soon as he handled them, or poured the contents out then it would have been all over for him.”
“Why?” Sebastian croaked helping the thin man on the horse and giving him the heavy bag to wear over his shoulders.
“What if he handled them wrongly whilst still under your plaguing tree?” A miffed Sir Luppe asked and Luikens furrowed his thin white brows troubled.
“I think the why… hmm… is the more interesting query. Uhum.” A strange voice said breaking the awkward moment, adding needlessly. “Yep. Ahum.”
“Who said that?” Sir Luppe barked and turned around alarmed, sword in hand.
A robust figure had come out of a deeper part of the woods, dressed in plain clothes. An Issir that carried a sword on his back. Sebastian licked his bloody lip nervously.
“Who are you?” The knight asked signing for Sebastian to climb on the horse as well.
“I’m Brill,” the man replied and his voice didn’t resemble what it had sounded just a moment afore at all. He walked towards them with long heavy strides, but standing a little clumsy. Then he stopped a couple of meters away to look at them with a pair of dispassionate eyes. “I’m a knight,” he added and his black lips split into a crooked smile. There was no mirth in it though only the grimace.
“Sir David Brill?” Luppe gasped and lowered his sword. “Uher’s grace upon you!” He rumbled but then his tone changed somewhat. “I heard you were dead Sir.”
The man shrugged his shoulders as if it wasn’t a big deal.
“I’ll help you out friend.” He said reassuringly, the changing directions wind blowing his thick short cut hair this way and that.
Sebastian let out a sigh of relief. Luthos has smiled at us, he thought and reached for the saddle’s horn with his good hand, to help himself in front of Luikens. Sir Luppe’s next words stopping him.
“I heard it from a man present. He was right there when it happened,” the knight insisted hoarsely and Sebastian turned around a little confused, as something in Sir Luppe’s tone was strange. “A friend of his and Sir Mark's. Grew up together they had. He saw Brill laying down slain. The sight tore him up it did. His old friends getting cut down. Brukel wouldn’t lie about it mister.”
“I’m Brill,” the man repeated calmly. “You know me.”
“Aye, and you know me for you all used to hunt at Greywood.” Sir Luppe replied brusquely, all tensed up now and suddenly everything went from peaceful to sinister.
> The situation turned on its head just like that and the prospect of violence that had subsided seemingly not a moment afore, now sipped from the air and the trees. Stuck on branches and laced the soft breeze’s whispers.
>
> Something in the air.
>
> You could feel it in your bones.
>
> A warning pause just before violence exploded again.
“Tell me then, what’s my name?” Sir Luppe had asked him and a shiver crawled down Sebastian’s spine.
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