The seemingly endless column of Schildene troops approached the Holvelan border. The road leading into the Halder nation travelled through a wide mountain pass. Although there were the beginnings of the winter snows, it was not a common occurrence for this series of valleys to become impassable.
The column stretched back for miles, with mounted men and men on foot, with supply wagons bringing up the rear. Overhead, the wyvern riders soared, scouting out any threats, or potential Holvelan spies.
Near the centre of this body of troops, Baron Frans Lun Duegr rode pondering this grand venture. He was excited by the prospect of Ohlsbachi independence, but he couldn’t shake a deep feeling of foreboding deep in the pit of his stomach. On a baser level, he knew that something wasn’t right about this, but his yearning to slake his thirst for the blood of those Halder pigs lead him to go against his gut.
“Something troubling you, Baron?” asked Herthiom.
“Er, I was just concerned whether we had enough men, is all,” Franz muttered quickly, hoping to conceal his doubts from Herthiom’s piercing mind.
“Well, if you did your part well, and ensured the peasantry are equipped with those crossbows, we should be fine. They should wear down any attempts from the Halder soldiers trying to thwart us. We will prevail. In the short term, while it may be but a shade of original lands of your ancestors, it will be a start. A foundation upon which to rebuild your homeland free of Halder dominion.”
As Herthiom’s will burrowed deeper into Franz’s mind, those doubts he was feeling shrank deep inside where they were but a faint whisper, barely noticeable amongst the visions of glory and his dreams of seeing the Halders within his lands brought low. Reduced to the peasants that they are.
“Yes!” exclaimed Franz with renewed fervour. “And bit by bit, we shall reclaim all that was once ours, and fertilise our fields with the blood of those filthy Halder pigs.” Franz’s eyes gleamed with maniacal zeal, his lips pealed back in an obscene, almost lustful leer.
“We shall make camp once we enter Halder lands, and divide up our forces as planned. From then, we will march on Niefenbron to the North, Kirch to the south and Slenes to the east. Let us see what kind of response the Holvelan Grand Duke can muster in the face of that much territory falling so quickly,” mused Herthiom.
Franz’s eyes narrowed, but his evil leer remained.
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
Karl lay in the back of the cart, covered in blankets to ward off the chill of the winter air.
Valadere Sengen turned in her seat and said, “We are approaching Slenes, now, Milord.”
Val’s husband, Jarner said, “Again, I humbly apologise for the cart. It was the best we could do.”
Margrave Karl Vorspiel chuckled, causing a weak cough. “Please, good Jarner, there is no need to apologise. I owe you and your lovely wife a debt greater than I could hope to repay. A debt I fully intend on honouring. I just pray that the folk in the towns that want nothing to do with rebellion have time to evacuate. I have this terrible feeling in my stomach… a terrible feeling.”
“We spoke to our liege, and he promised to send riders with dispatches to all the nearest towns. I think word may reach Grand Duke Viggins ears before your voice does. So worry not over such things. Your energy is better spent on getting well,” said Jarner.
The wagon trundled along the broad dirt highway, the walls of the small city of Slenes peaking above the horizon, imperceptibly increasing in size as the cart made its slow way towards them. Accompanying the rattling and grinding of the cart wheels on the dirt road, was Val’s voice as she hummed an old Ohlsbachi ballad.
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Karl drifted in and out of sleep. The movement of the wagon and the pleasant sound of Val’s voice lulled him, only for a random stone, or pothole to jolt him alert.
After another few hours, the wagon slowed as it joined a cue of wagons and carts awaiting inspection by the gate guards. Karl raised his head to look over the tailgate. He saw a cart approaching them, only to slow down and tag on behind them.
“Jarner, slip out of the cue, and head straight to the gate,” said Karl. “We won’t be need to wait.”
Jarner peered back over his shoulder and nodded, jerking the reins to get the horse moving. The cart moved along the clear road.
A gate guard on horseback rode toward them, dispatched by the guards noticing someone pulling out of line. He slowed as he drew near, and wheeled in front of them to block their way.
“That’s far enough. Why did you leave the cue?” the guard asked the Sengens, as Jarner reined in.
“Because I told them to,” said Karl from the back of the cart.
The horseman strained to see over the couple. Realising he couldn’t, he dismounted and walked over to them. When he peered in the back of the cart, he saw a sickly man bundled up to his neck in blankets. The man wriggled until he could free a hand, and showing his signet ring, held his hand to the guard.
The guards eyes widened as he recognised his lord’s signet, saluted smartly and then to Jarner said, “Follow me please.”
The guard mounted his horse, and headed to the gate at a slow trot, with the wagon following behind. As he neared the gate he shouted, “Make way for the Margrave! Make way for the Margrave!”
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
Viggin, Thayn and Ulden sat around the table poring over the map of the western area of Holvela close to the Schilden border.
“The latest dispatches from the west are indicating a massing of Schildene troops on my western border on the road leading to Kodeck. We have no idea of numbers, because any spies that get too close are killed by wyvern riders, but I have been assured it is a force approaching approximately ten thousand. I know not what make up, though,” Viggin said between clenched teeth. He slammed his fist on the table. “Dammit! This couldn’t have come at a worse time. That force will be well within our borders before I can muster a force to meet them. What is that old fool thinking!”
Ulden said, “Hm, this is very unlike Gustaver. The Shildenes have never given any inclination of having any designs on our territory, nor has he shown the slightest interest in the plight of Ohlsbachi separatists. This is most unlike him.”
“Well like it or not, we have dispatches coming in indicating rumblings of rebellion, and an amassing of Schildene troops. Whatever it is, we need to gather forces and meet it. This is something we can ill afford to take a wait and see approach on,” said Thayn.
“I have sent dispatches to Utstadland to gather forces from Slevikhol, Tvermene, Evikhol, Gjevels, and Olengeyrar. I plan to have them cross into Holvela and meet with me in Reinstadt. We will press some of the locals there into service and gather a force as we make our way south toward Niefenbron. I plan to leave first thing on the morrow,” said Ulden.
“I sent a dispatch to Ilsa by fast boat. My troops should start arriving on the Fludavera dock within the week. I’ll allow them on night’s layover before alternately sending them south to Walroberle and Penbach to gather forces and move north toward Kirch. That just leaves you to gather a force here and drive straight west. See? Nothing to worry about, brother. Best thing is, we have plenty of forest to cover us from wyverns. They are hard to kill, but they’re best used in open ground where they can swoop down on ground forces,” offered Thayn.
King Ulden narrowed his eye at his youngest son, before saying, “I suspected for a while now, but now I wonder how I could have got it so wrong all this time.”
“Oh?” responded Thayn, the corners of his mouth upturned into a bemused smile.
“All this time you have acted the fool, leaving everyone thinking you were just this side of a dolt, when it was us her were the fools. Well played son, well played. But know, your days of shirking by playing the idiot are over,” said Ulden as he began to chuckle.
With mock resignation, Thayn sighed and said, “Ah well. I guess all good things must come to an end eventually.”
Viggin snorted, looking at his family with a mixture of love, pride, and gratitude. He shook that off and said, “I would like to meet this Margrave Karl Vorspiel. He is the Ohlsbachi noble who exposed this apparently. He is the lord of the Slenes shire, I believe.”
“Good thing it’s on your way, then brother,” Thayn said with a smile and a wink.