Horizon of War Series

Window of the World

Korelia

Lansius' visit to Sterling's new house in the established part of the city, and his meeting with Claire, who had just returned from teaching at the orphanage, reminded him of how much he missed his family. He couldn't help but wonder about Tanya, Mark, and Mother Arryn's current situation.

Naturally, even as he visited the newlyweds' house, his mind drifted to the crisis in Arvena and Midlandia. Moreover, he was reminded of the letter that Calub had received while Lansius was still in Umberland. It likely wouldn't be the only one; he wouldn't be surprised to receive another, be it another offer or a threat.

For Lansius, it added another layer of complexity. If Bengrieve had rescued his family, then they were likely caught in the turmoil in Midlandia.

Out of the crocodile's mouth and into the tiger's.

He sighed softly in the carriage as he headed to the castle with Carla, Sterling, and the guard. Unexpectedly, the carriage's window offered plenty of sights to distract him.

As they passed an open space, the city wall under construction was clearly visible. There, Lansius saw a recently constructed treadwheel crane and was impressed by its ease of use. The mechanism was similar to a waterwheel, but instead of water, men powered the wheel, winding rope to lift building materials vertically like a crane.

"It's getting taller every day," Carla commented.

"Our own Mason Guild of Korelia wouldn't let that happen, My Lord," Sterling assured him.

"Indeed, they're meant to supervise the building projects, but we must be watchful for bribery and corruption."

"If My Lord is concerned, then you should task Calub to oversee it," Sterling suggested.

Lansius nodded. "When the time is right, I'll task Calub or Sir Harold."

"I heard Francisca is quite capable of sniffing out lies," Carla said.

"That'll make Sir Harold's supervision more impactful." Lansius was pleased that the half-breed was gaining recognition and acceptance from his staff. Before he could be distracted by other things, he said to Carla, "When we reach the castle, remind me to write a letter."

"Understood. To whom, My Lord?" Carla asked. This was typical, as merely writing a letter was not enough to jog his memory.

"To Midlandia, to Lord Bengrieve," Lansius replied with a resolute tone. His words captured the attention of the three who sat with him in the carriage.

"Noted, My Lord," Carla responded.

Sterling leaned slightly forward. "My Lord, a word if I may."

Lansius motioned for him to speak.

"Lord Bengrieve is in Elandia. Given what we know of the situation there, I doubt he'll return to Midlandia before winter."

"We don't need to worry about that. A letter is a letter. It's a sign of intention," Lansius explained. "If he reads it next year, then the action might be late, but the intention will have been delivered," he clarified.

"My Lord, if I may be so bold, what exactly are you asking of him?" Sterling asked.

Lansius gazed at his squire. "I want to know what's happening in Midlandia..."

Sterling and Carla exchanged glances.

"I have read the letter directed to me from the opposing side in the Midlandian crisis, and I'm sure it won't be the last," Lansius continued. "I also want to learn the fate of three Arvenians. I owe them a great debt, and I have entrusted their safety to Lord Bengrieve."

Carla nodded, while Sterling offered no comment, and it was the older guard who inquired, "Pardon my curiosity, but I've heard rumors about My Lord's relatives. Is this about them?"

"Relatives...?" Lansius mused, thinking about his official background as a fake knight from the Mercantile Kingdom before confirming, "I suppose you could say that. These three have helped me when I was in trouble. To me, they're family."

The two squires and the guard nodded in understanding.

Without saying anything else, they enjoyed the remaining ride to the castle. There, before supper, Lansius dictated a letter to his benefactor. He inquired about the Midlandia crisis, his intention to retake Arvena and return it to Lord Arte, and the whereabouts of the Arryn family.

With that completed, with some time still before supper, Lansius decided to review the scribes' report on a different project he had assigned—a project no less pivotal in turning Korelia into a great city.

***

Two weeks had passed as Korelia braced for winter. The chill wind had arrived, prompting everyone to don fur coats and thick clothing. Activities in the fields were limited, and the barns had been cleaned to prepare for the livestock's eventual refuge from the snow.

A few of the commoners had finished fixing their roofs to prepare for heavy snowfall. Others were mending fences, repairing tools, sewing their clothes, or starting their winter crafts. Some were learning to read and write, or training in other areas of expertise.

In such times, Lansius had completed the auction of his plots leading to the noble quarter and repurposed one of the buildings he owned to serve as the city's library.

While his recent series of victories provided a substantial financial cushion, Lansius understood that war was a costly endeavor and that it took money to make money. Thus, he was always on the lookout for new revenue streams.

He had drafted his rough budgeting plan for next year. After two years, it wasn't hard. But then again, unlike in the modern era, it was common for a medieval baron like him to pay his retainers, lieutenants, and squires partially in goods. These goods, often documented with seals or letters for authentication, would then be exchanged through merchants.

The merchants facilitated the conversion of these goods to coins or other desired goods. Following the tradition of a benevolent lord, Lansius opted to pay half in cash, half in goods which he acquired from from taxes.

In a sense, a medieval barony, while not a cashless society, was far less cash-driven than the modern era. Many even provided their services to him nearly for free, out of respect or fear. It was tempting for Lansius to benefit from this free labor.

While he wasn't a saint, Lansius would demand contributions if it was necessary and reasonable. But currently, he could simply enact corvée, a form of tax that included individuals who did not own land, crops, or assets. As the baron, he had the authority to mobilize everyone, including the homeless, or others who did not pay traditional taxes.

This year, under Sir Justin, Korelia had enacted corvée to task a group of people to move the blacksmiths to a new location across the river. While enacting it would freed the participants from paying tax, in most cases, their yearly tax was much lower in value compared to what their labor would cost.

His budgeting plan had grown to encompass the multiple projects he was working on. Although it appeared that he employed many specialized talents in these projects, in truth, almost all were recruited from conquered cities. In this manner, his invitations were more like orders. When he invited a duck breeder from South Hill, it was as good as an order to move to Korelia and start their business there.

This was part of the victor's prerogative. Lansius didn't loot the South Hill populace, and because of this, they were inclined to oblige his demands.

Under this scheme, the duck breeder started a business in Korelia using the allocated land and resources for 'free.' As a project of the Lord, the breeder received help and assistance from his men. In exchange for the lord's 'generosity,' the breeder provided services or goods, likely in the form of several ducks each year as a tax, along with feathers for arrows.

Thus, there was no cost to inviting the duck breeder to open their business in Korelia, aside from some one-time gifts. In this matter, Lansius didn't employ the duck meister.

A similar situation applied to other talents that Lansius did not invite. The migrants came of their own free will. Many were absorbed as apprentices in shops, guilds, or by the myriad smiths and meisters in the city. This arrangement certainly cost Lansius nothing.

What Lansius paid for were the talents that he employed directly for his projects. The rate was 2-3 copper per day. With 200 effective workdays per year, it would cost him between 500-600 copper, or around 2 gold coins.

With helpers and assistants added, the total would likely be closer to 4 gold coins. Thus, 4 gold coins for a project like the carriage leaf spring suspension, or any other similarly sized small project.

If a project needed extra help, as in the case of a large project like the wire workshop, Lansius used military personnel on rotation. Thus, apart from his standing army, which drained most of his income, Lansius had no other financial concerns.

On the contrary, his cash flow was strong. Just last week, one of his long-running plans had struck gold.

His plan for the noble quarter was more than just a single layer. At a deeper level, it was a real estate strategy. The land he selected was not only suitable but also surrounded by and accessible only through lands still held by his barony. This guaranteed that all sales would go directly to him.

And he didn't mean the land sale for Lord Robert or Jorge.

The noble quarter plan had single-handedly raised the price of the surrounding land, turning iron into gold. After sending out invitations to wealthy merchants and guilds, through their agents, they competed fiercely for the most strategically located plots along the main road leading to the noble districts.

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Given Korelia’s status as the new capital and a hub of regional governance, the established families—old money from generations of trade—readily invested significant sums. They anticipated good trade or hoped that land prices would continue to rise. Furthermore, many saw this as an opportunity to elevate their status, aiming to join the nobility by marrying off their sons or daughters. Thus, their investments were driven not only by commerce but also by visibility, prestige of living close to the high nobility, and the added security.

In just three days of bidding, Lansius secured over 700 gold coins for 23 modestly sized properties, averaging 31 gold coins per plot—more cash than he had earned from one of his wars. Some buyers were successful knights or esquires, while others were wealthy grain merchants, cloth merchants, firewood traders, or spice importers.

Lansius still had other plots to sell, which he would offer on a case-by-case basis.

On another front, Lansius had already repurposed one of his buildings to serve as the city’s library. Although literacy in this medieval world was generally limited to the nobility and the wealthy, the public library provided open access to anyone able to read. While the average peasant might not directly benefit from a library full of books, for those who could read, it opened up a world of possibilities.

Lansius believed that education was a ladder of opportunity for those willing to climb it. He hoped that it would spur more people to learn to read and help build the city's nascent educated population. Without them, Korelia would be hard-pressed to meet its growing need for talent.

By opening a public library, he demonstrated that education was not limited to the nobles and the rich. Additionally, he wanted to show that learning offered benefits beyond securing a job. Books provided another form of entertainment, one that didn't rely on others to perform, unlike minstrels, theatrical plays, or dancers.

He hoped that enough people would be attracted so that when the school for commoners opened next year, many would sign up. Lansius understood that merely building a school wouldn't be enough. The normal process would require a lot of patience and time for the populace to embrace the costly nature of education.

Thus, the preliminary work to encourage and entice the population needed to be put in place before the school opened. Lansius wanted the Korelians to be eager to study. Thus, while the newly opened public library might currently seem empty, it had already served its purpose. Moreover, it boosted Korelia's prestige as the future capital of the Grand Alliance.

Having a public facility was a symbol of prestige, especially in a faraway region like Lowlandia. A library would attract scholars and foster self-study among the populace. It was also a welcoming gesture to the people who would move to Korelia next year, along with the neighboring lords' households.

Despite the rather ambitious project, Lansius remained grounded. He knew that turning a library into a center of learning would likely be a generational project, not something that would achieve immediate success.

The chosen site for the library building was not far from the market. It was in an area that could be visited by nobles, dignitaries, and commoners alike. It was a sizable two-story building, originally designed as a house that had been confiscated due to the city's fiery past.

Lansius chose this place instead of the nobles' quarter because he didn't want the establishment to be exclusive. Although several offers had been made for the building, he instructed his staff to decline them because he felt it had the right atmosphere.

The large entrance and the cobbled road through the garden were grand and inviting without deterring commoners from entering. The main hall was set further back than usual and featured a lush garden that shielded it from the noise of the busy street. Meanwhile, the interior boasted a grand window where plenty of light could shine in, especially on the second floor, making it easier to read and keeping it well ventilated.

Moreover, the windows allowed people on the road to see others reading on the second floor, which Lansius hoped would further advertise the library. The building had been converted without issue. Its hall was now filled with shelves for books, tables, and chairs.

While preparing the building had been relatively straightforward, the main challenge persisted: books were hard to find. Lansius had donated books he found and acquired during his journey, but it was still a small collection. Thus, his select staff began searching for suitable books in the castle, the city, and the neighboring estates of knights, squires, and the wealthy.

As expected, they only found a small cache of books, which Lansius acquired for a small fortune or as favors. However, most of the Korelians were already familiar with their own tales or the famed stories of the heroes of the old Imperium. So, aside from several maps, tomes, and almanacs about constellations, geography, trade, constructions, and alchemy, the public library lacked appeal to the ordinary folk.

This was where Lansius had an advantage. As a modern person, he knew an immense number of stories from books and films he had consumed since childhood. Thus, he dictated children's stories to his scribes, easily selecting four that he was familiar with based on their educational value.

He started with "The Boy Who Cried Wolf," a straightforward tale about honesty and trust, similar to a story known locally. Then he added "The Three Little Pigs," a story about three pigs who each built a house out of different materials (straw, sticks, and bricks) to protect themselves from the Big Bad Wolf.

Continuing with the theme of basic moral stories, he included "Pinocchio," focusing on honesty, and concluded with "The Little Mermaid," a tale of personal choice and consequences.

The four scrolls were read by the city's announcer over several days in the public library's garden to delighted children and curious adults. Branded as stories from the Lord of Korelia's birthplace, they had drawn quite a crowd and helped popularize the newly transformed building.

Mesmerized by the tales, the audience craved for more. Having found its audience and momentum, Lansius and his scribes quickly added a fifth story, titled 'Felis in Wonderland.'

It was originally 'Alice in Wonderland,' but Lansius had changed the name because 'Alice' did not resonate with the populace. For this one, he had to use his imagination a lot since he couldn't remember the story correctly, but he knew the general outline.

On the surface, it was a children's story, but it also offered a deeper theme of identity. In a mad world, Alice remained true to herself and chose to return home instead of residing in that world. Somehow, Lansius found this fitting as the world was thrown into chaos with the decline of the Imperium.

The latest story satisfied the children who were happy to listen to the fantasy world, yet it left the growing number of older audience members unsatisfied. The castle staff even mentioned to Lansius their desire for a longer story with grander narratives than just children's tales.

Feeling the time was right, Lansius summoned his scribes to the Eastern Mansion. He sat in his chair where he usually received guests and dignitaries, surrounded by scrolls, notes, and scribbles on the small table.

Having found the correct line, he dictated, "This is the story of the Kingdom of Troy. And of Paris, Helen, Achilles, Hector, Agamemnon, and Odysseus."

The youngest scribe, the fastest writer, wrote it on a scroll. The other two checked and assisted with the work in whispers. This was the draft of Lansius' version of the 'Iliad,' which, embarrassingly, might be closer to the popular version than the original.

Lansius constantly looked at his note. The "Iliad" was so vast that Lansius had trouble retelling it without missing important details. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder why this memory was still intact despite the trouble of recalling his own birth name and mother's face.

With a clear face and steady look, the most senior scribe glanced at Lansius, hinting that they were ready to continue.

"Please, a different note, I just recalled a good quote," Lansius closed his eyes.

Accustomed to the Lansius' style, the young scribe readily used a different scroll.

"It is entirely seemly for a young man killed in battle to lie mangled by the bronze spear. In his death, all things appear fair," Lansius recalled with his eyes still closed. "But when dogs shame the gray head and gray chin and the nakedness of an old man killed, it is the most piteous thing that happens among wretched mortals."

He opened his eyes and saw that two of the oldest scribes had exchanged glances, likely struck by the depth of the quote. This was a huge leap from the five children's stories.

If only I remembered Homer's words, so I could give them the original, not my cheap retelling...

However, changing it was necessary since the people of this world didn't recognize the Pantheon, so Lansius omitted most of the Olympian Gods' presence in the story.

In the presence of Audrey, who was curious to witness the process, Lansius continued with the story until it was time to retire.

"Lans," Audrey called when they were alone in their personal quarters. "I know these are stories from your birthplace, but I can't help but feel you're so enthusiastic about them."

Lansius smiled while changing his clothes. "Listening to a story is a good way to pass the time, isn't it?"

"I could understand that," Audrey nodded. "Is this another one of your preparations for winter?"

Lansius' smile turned into a smirk. "You're getting sharper, you know."

Audrey grinned. "There's always another layer to your moves."

"How about loving you?" he quipped.

"Now that is still a mystery," she said, knitting her brow.

Lansius laughed.

It was Audrey who returned to the topic. "If the stories are for winter, how about assigning them to the billets and the labor camps? You know they could use more entertainment."

"Certainly. Thanks for reminding me to send copies to them," Lansius said. "I've yet to tell Sir Justin to find literate people from the labor camp; we need them to read the stories."

"Obviously," Audrey remarked in agreement. "That'll keep their minds off their homes this winter. However, I'm not sure this is purely for their entertainment."

Lansius nodded with a thin smile. "Is that question led by instinct or experience?"

Audrey turned smug and bragged, "The Great Noyan of Lowlandia's mind is like an open book to his humble wife."

"Only the first few pages," Lansius quipped as he approached her for a hug.

"So I'm right, there's a deeper layer to it?" she asked even as they embraced.

"You are correct," he praised. "There's also a plan for a shared identity."

Nationalism...

Yet there was no word for it in this world. They continued to embrace, and Lansius said, "I missed you. I still occasionally glance to the right and am momentarily confused as to why I can't find you there."

"I hope that's not a man's honeyed words," she said with a sweet face. "And stop looking at Carla like that; she must be confused."

Lansius stifled a laugh. "How's the baby?"

"Just like yesterday, there's barely a noticeable bump, but they told me to eat a lot so the baby can grow faster."

"Oh, you certainly consented to that. I could notice the smell of duck eggs."

"Really?" Audrey looked embarrassed.

Lansius couldn't stifle his laugh and guffawed. That daring joke earned him a disappointed look from Audrey. She then changed the subject, "I heard you offered the guild a site for a brothel."

"I..." he then realized what it implied. "Hang on, don't jump to conclusions."

Audrey sat down, clearly for effect. "Well, it's a whole year of pregnancy, so I could understand. I doubt the Great Noyan can withstand temptation, especially when you admitted to me that you're bad with temptations."

He sat down and followed her game, "It's not that bad. And that was when I was unmarried, mind you. Besides, I've consulted with the physicians."

She furrowed her brow. "Meaning?"

He whispered into her ear, and her eyes widened. "No way," she said, turning to him.

Lansius shrugged. "That's considered safe. Check with your old maids whether it's true."

Audrey shook her head, her expression difficult to read.

Lansius chuckled. "Whatever you choose, I'll be yours alone."

"Not even for Felis?" she asked, her voice colored with slight discomfort.

"She's in Wonderland; best not to disturb her."

Audrey burst into laughter. Once she composed herself, she complained, "Seriously, why not name it something else? Even my name would be better than Felis."

"Huh?" Lansius was taken aback. "Why do you say that?"

"Lans, multiple maids, even Lady Astrid have whispered about it. Some suggest it might reflect your repressed feelings toward Lady Felicity."

Lansius gulped. "I never saw it that way. I better consult with Farkas tomorrow."

"It's not that important to require Farkas' assistance. But seriously, I can't leave you alone. Not with the scribes."

Lansius sighed. "I should've used the original name."

Audrey smiled and gently leaned her head against his shoulder to reassure him of her trust. In response, Lansius tenderly wrapped his arm around her, but as he did, a slight grimace crossed her face. He paused, carefully examined her right upper arm, which showed signs of redness. "You've been practicing!"

"Just some arm exercises," she reassured him quickly, pulling her arm away gently.

"Drey, you should tell me--"

She kissed him abruptly and whispered, "The maids have taught me how to keep one's husband happy even during pregnancy."

"That sounds ominous," Lansius protested, but he noticed that her ears were reddening.

Audrey turned at the candle on the table and muttered something before waving her arm. He could hear wind noises before the candle was extinguished. There was no scent of burning as it was an expensive wax candle.

"You can do that?" Lansius asked in surprise.

"I'm trying something here," she protested in the dark.

"I-I'll be quiet."

"You just killed the mood," she said with a giggle.

"No worries. I can always fix your mood," he said confidently. Even in the dark, he gently made her comfortable on the bed, and the two made the best use of their time without endangering the pregnancy.

...

Morning came, and for the first time in weeks, he felt refreshed. Audrey was already dressed and waiting for him quietly, sitting at the bedside. "Morning," she said.

"Does the Lord of Korelia need to wake up today?" Lansius quipped, still with a parched throat.

Audrey rose to fetch a drink. "I wish I had better news, but there are things that need your attention."

"I don't like the sound of that. How bad?" he asked from the bed.

"A messenger from Midlandia," she reported.

Lansius drew a deep breath, his mind still hazy.

"And a hawk from Nicopola," she added, offering him a goblet of water.

"Good news and bad news," he quipped, taking the drink and sipping it halfway. "How about flying away today and forgetting about them?" he teased.

"Oh, I like the sound of that," she said with a mischievous smile, daring him to do it.

Lansius chuckled and dragged himself from the bed. "Okay, fine. I'll face them head-on."

***

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