Florian

From what Florian could tell, the first couple of days of September was the worst of Romulus's life. The news of Dad's illness and the declaration that Gala would be his heir a month before caused him to start marching north. The People's Lord was secondary to the survival of the kingdom. Romulus immediately sent letters to every earl in the country publicly contesting the will after Maximus's death.

Florian was recalled to Romulus's command shortly after Lia's rebellion ended to help destroy the remnants of the People's Lord, but days after he arrived was when the news arrived. Florian didn't dare talk to his commander for many days as he was liable to swing that hammer of his around and smash anything delicate. This wasn't helped by the fact that General Pluto took half of the 400,000 men under their dual command to defend Birdmouth from any forces wishing to install Romulus onto the throne.

Romulus's troop marched at least twelve hours a day. Dozens of men collapsed while marching and were left behind to rot. Florian had already gone through two horses by the time they reached the Dawn River north of Edgetown. Sometimes he wanted to beg Romulus to stop for the sake of the horses, men, and their overall sanity, but as he looked up the line and saw the hammer that he now had tied to his back, any hope of slowing disappeared from Florian's mind. When they reached the river, Romulus finally approached Florian and ordered him to march to King Harbor to ensure that the earls in the north were determined when it came to their loyalty to him. Florian asked how they were so loyal that they declared their intention to fight for Romulus when most of the earls declared neutrality. "They think Gala will take their power away," Romulus answered.

"And who told them that?" Florian asked.

"The slaves."

Florian also asked why Romulus was sending him to King Harbor and not going himself. If he truly wanted to secure their loyalty, wouldn't it be best to go himself? "My dumbass of a cousin that is the earl of Staff Harbor, has declared neutrality in the struggle. Luckily for us, our forces surround him. I can make a deal for his loyalty."

As the army boarded ships that would take them upriver, Romulus approached Florian once again and asked him a simple question. "What's your title?"

"Excuse me?" Florian asked. Romulus, who was understandably already ticked off by the situation they were in, cursed Florian and told him to answer the question. "Captain," Florian answered.

"Why?"

"Why?" Florian paused. "Because I answer to you…" Florian realized what Romulus was getting at. "You're not a general anymore. You're a king."

"And who answers to kings in the military?"

"Generals," Florian answered. He wanted to smile and thank Romulus for the promotion, but with Romulus's anger at an unknown level, he decided to remain professional. "Thank you, your majesty."

Romulus put his hands on Florian's shoulder. "There's a lot of people that want me dead and vice-versa. My own brother has betrayed me and the country in the name of his 'morals', but you are still here. You're a good man, Kosta." Romulus smiled as much as the situation allowed. "When all of this is over, I'll have a crown on my head, and you can be an earl if you want."

Florian didn't know how to respond, and by the time he could think of a single word to say, Romulus was already out of earshot.

#

Florian didn't have emotions for most of the day. He was too busy to feel as if the 100 and 50,000 men that Romulus gave him to command demanded his attention. It took months to reach King Harbor, but when they got there, around a tenth of his men had died, and the snows of winter dominated the air.

He sent scouts ahead of their arrival, and a day before they reached King Harbor, he was informed that the city had fallen into a siege. Florian contemplated his options on how to proceed. The enemy did not know of their arrival as they snuck past cities and went off-road. Romulus wouldn't expect anything less than exhaustion out of his men, and so Florian forced his troops to go as fast as they could, with men or horses collapsing and becoming food for vultures.

His men virtually had no winter clothing as they were only originally stationed in the grasslands where snow never dared touch the equator. The few pieces of winter clothing they were given were meant for mountain action, which supported many fewer men, so they needed to move fast if they wanted any chance of success. Two goals needed to be accomplished. One, relieve King Harbor from the siege; and two, get supplies for his army.

So, the next morning, Florian gathered his men, comprised of a mix of infantry and cavalry, to head north from the road that linked Gatherstorm and King Harbor. No regiments were to be tied down in any fighting on the way up to the city. The scouts reported 500,000 men outside the city walls, with about 100,000 of those men operating the thousands of cannons that leveled hundreds of homes, stores, and lives in the city. That left 300,000 men who could respond to an attack in a short amount of time.

Outnumbered, Florian believed that the speed of his cavalry would be able to shock the enemy army into submission.

Florian tried to stay in the middle of the army, trying to command his troops while ensuring that they weren't outflanked, but after hours of fighting in the bitter cold where one couldn't see fifty meters in front of them, all of the orders fell apart. Horns, whistles, and any other instrument that the soldiers could get their hands on rung through the air as regiments continually tried to reorganize. Eventually, the enemy's artillery was organized, and Florian's soldiers were liable to cannonballs whistling through the air out of sight and smashing their heads in before they could see it.

Florian stayed on his horse as messengers from all over the battlefield reported what was happening. It was a monumental task trying to get a picture of the geography, but the more reports that came in, the easier it became. It seemed that in the blindness of the snow, the two armies were compacted into a narrow space of only a couple of kilometers wide. Every once and a while, Florian watched as the enemy cannons hit their own men, and that left Florian with an idea. He observed as he tried to gauge the rough area where the cannonballs were landing and adjusted his line accordingly.

Soon enough, more of the enemy's men were killed than Florian's as the cannons blindly fired into the white emptiness of where the battle was taking place. More time passed, and there was no clear idea of who was winning the battle. On his right, his men broke through the enemy lines, while on his left, the enemy infantry killed Florian's horses in the dozens.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Florian couldn't survive a war of attrition and knew that he couldn't hold out much longer. The snow was building up and wrapped around ankles, tying down tripping, and confusing soldiers. He needed to do something fast or else his army faced annihilation.

There was no sense of direction except for when the sun peaked through the clouds showing east and west, but that only guided the men as long as they knew the time, which also quickly fell from them. Florian threw off his helmet to see better and noticed that most of the men had already done that. In the academy, Florian learned a couple of ways that a smaller force could beat a larger force. He had already tried speed, and separating the enemy was out of the question at this point, so that only left one option: concentration. Florian needed to gather up his forces and concentrate them in one location, but in the blinding snow, there was only one location that the army could gather around: the walls of King Harbor.

Doing so would force his men closer to the enemy artillery, but in the frenzy of battle, options are a luxury. With a lump in his stomach and with the only certainty being uncertainty, he grabbed a horn from his saddle and ordered his men to advance to the walls.

He and Florian's guard slowly galloped through the narrow gaps between the lines of men smashing their spears and shields against each other. Florian's men cheered and followed, not knowing what else to do, as they marched toward the city walls. Soon, the origin of the cannon fire was visible, and the cannoneers, seeing the approaching calvary, tilted their barrels down and stuffed cannonballs into the artillery. Due to the cold, the only way to light the fuse was to have a large firepit next to the cannon, so the flame didn't die out quickly. Florian watched as the enemy forces stretched their arms out to light the fuse before stuffing it onto the top of the cannon so it could fire.

A couple of cannons fired before Florian came to his senses and ordered his men to charge. He had no idea how many men he was ordering but could only hope that it was enough to change the outcome of the battle.

Florian whipped out his longsword and charged alongside his men. He slashed a couple of men before the enemy abandoned their first cannon. He and his guard moved from artillery squad to artillery squad as their numbers dwindled and the surprise of calvary reaching the artillery line forced the enemy into a frenzy. Every once and a while, Florian blew into his horn to get more of his men concentrated.

About twenty more minutes passed and Florian could feel the frostbite developing on his fingers. Even the thickest of gloves couldn't protect against the cold forever, and he even started to develop cuts around his legs as the enemy soldiers got a couple of lucky ones against him. But it wasn't until Florian heard marching from the north that he worried the worst. The fear of enemy reserves arriving forced him into a tired state, and he paused as the marching grew louder. The artillery line was only about 100 meters away from the edge of the city, and snowfall cleared up, to a point where he could see the burned, smashed, and uninhabitable houses staring back at him in despair.

As Florian gazed at the battered city, an enemy soldier sliced two of his horse's legs off, and Florian fell to the ground. His guard quickly disposed of the enemy, but Florian lay in the snow, dazed as the marching grew louder. The heartbeat of an approaching army forced Florian back up to his feet as he saw his horse wince in pain. He didn't want to contemplate it up to his point, but now that his horse was injured, he needed to put it out of his misery. Florian thought about naming the horse before he died. At least giving the animal some dignity before death, but his mind was too cluttered, and he forced his sword into the horse's throat as it gave out a horrific squeal.

A member of Florian's guard offered his horse and nearly stepped down from it, but before Florian could accept the offer, he saw a man on the force about twenty meters away. The man also removed his helmet to see better, and this allowed Florian to recognize the man. He held two swords in his hands and cut down every man who dared approach him and his horse. Florian quickly refused the offer before grabbing the horn off of his dead horse and blowing into it. He dragged through the snow, tightly gripped his sword in his right hand, and yelled at the dual-wielding man. "Smith!" he shouted. "General George Smith!"

It was him, no doubt, and now that Romulus and the death of Maximus denied any peaceful resolution for the two's history, trial by combat remained the only option. After shouting his name about a dozen times, Florian's mouth became as dry as a rock on a summer evening. He blew the horn one last time before Smith looked over and recognized who it was.

He cut down a few more men before riding over and disembarking from his horse. Florian's guard stood firmly behind him, waiting for the general to attack. Florian forced his body up from a slouch to face the man who forced him into the mountainside. "It's about time," Florian said.

Smith stood there with his two swords casually pointed toward the ground as he looked at Florian's guard. "I see you've made it a fair fight." Though Florian could barely see it, he knew that the smirk on Smith's face was only a fraction of the joy he felt seeing the opportunity to end the man's life who threatened his career.

The two generals slowly circled each other, but before one could contemplate swinging their swords, Florian ordered his guard to charge at Smith. The general snapped his head toward the men on horseback and stood his ground as half a dozen men charged. Florian also approached Smith, but before he could get into range, Smith already cut down three of the guards. Florian backed up in shock, and the memories of what happened back at the farm came roaring back. He was a fool for challenging Smith in a duel, and now he almost had no backup.

Florian tried to catch Smith by surprise and swung his sword at him, but it was quickly deflected. He fell onto the snow as Smith cut down the rest of the guard and turned his attention back to Florian. "A brave gambit, I will give you that," Smith said. "But it was nonetheless foolish." Florian tried to bring up his sword, but Smith knocked it out of his hand, and it flew out of reach.

Smith didn't even allow Florian the luxury of last words as he slightly pulled his sword up to swing down at Florian. He braced for one of two options. Death or survival.

As the sword plunged down to Florian's heart, he launched himself forward and smashed his foot into Smith's groin. Though he most likely had a cup guard, Florian kicked it a little to the side so Smith's aim was messed up.

It worked, and the sword stabbed straight passed his face and into the ground. Smith swung the sword in his left hand to counteract it, but Florian twisted his body, so it sliced the back of his breastplate rather than his neck. Now with Smith dazed and confused, Florian smashed his head into the broad side of the longsword planted in the ground to release it from Smith's hand and stood up. Normally, the thought of smashing one's head into the broadside of a sword would be ridiculous because of the amount of pain it would cause, but Florian was currently moving too fast to consider such trivial concerns.

Smith tried to hit him while he got up but narrowly missed as he booked it for the city. Sure, it was deserting the battlefield, but what else was he going to do? Die? He picked up his sword that Smith knocked away earlier and ran as fast as he could toward the city. Smith pursued of course, but he was decades older than Florian and the distance between the two increased. As he ran toward the city, the sound of the marching suddenly came back, and Florian hoped for the best as he ran toward the sound.

The sound became a sight as he saw men marching through the streets where there was much less snow, and the sound of their boots echoed through the streets and alleyways. However, what caught Florian's attention was the banner. A blue, green, and yellow background with red swords overlayed on it. It was Earl Marcus's men, and they had come out of the city walls to assist their reinforcements. Florian breathed a sigh of relief as he was far enough away from Smith that he could turn around and see Smith's reaction to the banners of the city.

Smith stopped chasing Florian as he stared at the banner with a blank expression. Florian cracked a smile at Smith's neutral face. He must have been so shocked that he didn't know what else to do. Smith stepped backward as arrows began to fly from the city and therefore, wouldn't have enough time to duel Florian again. The young general watched Smith run back to his horse and blow a whistle.

The joy of Smith retreating quickly disappeared as exhaustion wore on him, and he fell onto the ground. The battle was now out of his hands and therefore, the fate of King Harbor.