Horizon of War Series

The main hall was somber, with eerie shadows flickering on the walls as if the lanterns and chandelier breathed life into them. The Arvenians had taken the hall as their quarter and had acted accordingly by arraying their temporary beds across the floor.

Despite their numbers, the place was devoid of life. There were only faint whispers and weak groans. The floor was littered with piles of dirty linen bandages, also buckets that reeked of blood, piss, or vomit.

There were no medical staff besides the volunteers who had also had their fair share of fighting today. They were mostly driven by a sense of camaraderie to care for their unfortunate allies.

Some had lost limbs, while others had lost a friend or family member. With only alcohol to ease the pain, many were lost in their own thoughts.

The cold evening air blew in as the night watch pushed the door open.

Footsteps echoed as Jardin, Calub, and Lansius entered the hall. What greeted them was dampness, the smell of blood, and the rancid wine they used as antiseptics. Lansius immediately noticed a few gazes wandering toward him, so he kept his eyes low. If he had to guess, he would say that the looks were directed at him in resentment or hatred.

With this many injured and dead, Lansius couldn’t shake the feeling that he had let them down. However, Calub, the alchemist, seemed unfazed. Led by Jardin in front, they kept walking briskly toward the end of the hall where a stone circular staircase was located.

As the shadow from the staircase fell over him, Lansius exhaled deeply. “What does the lor—”

Calub, who had barely ascended several flights of stairs, raised his hand. “He’s just a knight for now.”

Lansius had heard that they found someone named Archie and deduced that Hugo found what he was looking for. However, for the young lord to use another disguise was surprising. “And why does the knight want to see me?”

“Better ask that directly,” Calub replied as they reached the second floor.

The spacious, illuminated room and the scented air felt a world different from downstairs. As he entered, Lansius noticed that the conversation had stopped and grew wary of the nature of the summons.

He wasn’t sure what to do when Calub turned to face him and whispered, “Be mindful that now they’ve found him, there’s no need to carry out another attack.”

Lansius’s eyes widened.

Just what did he imply?

He had yet to get an answer when Felis approached. She feigned friendly greetings while speaking softly. “Only ask for money. Your goal may lie in Feodosia.”

Despite how normal-looking their exchange was, it still grabbed everyone’s attention.

“Better present yourself,” Calub said openly to allay the room’s suspicion.

Felis smiled and motioned Lansius to follow her. Meanwhile, Calub and Jardin made their way to the side.

Lansius noticed the stares from Anci and Hugo. While Anci eventually flashed his teeth, Hugo simply closed his eyes and feigned ignorance.

Something is indeed wrong . . .

“Now, go.” Felis smiled and then proceeded to bow her head slightly toward the chair in the middle, where a man sat idly to one side. It was the same person Lansius had met in Bellandia. His hair was longer now, and he was wearing a much plainer outfit.

“It’s been a while.” Archie addressed Lansius first. “Come closer. You can call me Sir Archie,” he instructed plainly.

Lansius swallowed his fear and knelt near his master. “Your servant is gladdened that Sir Archie is well.” An eloquence Lansius never knew he had flowed from his lips.

“You seemed well yourself.” Archie’s face looked bored or annoyed. “So, tell me, oh servant of mine. Why didn’t you report your deeds to me?” he said without even looking.

The tone made him uncomfortable. “I-I’m just a clerk, sir. I only partook a little in the fight.”

Archie moved his gaze toward Lansius, and after a few moments of thoughtful silence, said, “I know you’re a foreigner, so maybe they do things differently where you’re from. But here, you need to claim your merit. Else, you’re going to be a deadweight.”

Not knowing where this conversation was going, Lansius could only play it safe. “My apologies, but I only helped a little.”

Archie scoffed. “I remember our meeting. Back then, you acted like this too . . . Too shy for your own good.”

Embarrassed, Lansius quipped before he could think. “My good sir, do you wish for an ambitious retinue?”

It was almost a rhetorical, yet Archie responded lightly. “And what if I do?”

The answer surprised Lansius, and he quickly regretted it.

Archie watched Lansius’s expression and chuckled. As his mood improved, so did the tension in the room.

As a lowly clerk, Lansius usually put up with humiliation, but today he felt exposed. The wound from his failure to find Stefi was still fresh. So, uncharacteristically, he fumbled in his bag and retrieved a scroll. “May I approach?”

With a finger, Archie motioned Lansius to come closer. “What’s this?”

No shame in trying . . .

“A gift for my good sir’s freedom.”

Archie read the parchment, and his lips turned into a sinister grin. “Clerk, why do I see names and their professions?”

“Sir, I’m sure you’ll need them to rebuild your forces.”

“You offer me slaves?” Archie balked.

“Sir, we’re not enslaving them. We’re recruiting them.”

Archie snorted as he found the suggestion to be funny. “And how will you explain when the Imperium sends their agents?”

Lansius could’ve stopped there and excused himself as a foreign fool. However, his wounded pride wouldn’t let him. “Sir, they could inquire all they want. I made no trickery. It’s the freed slaves who wanted this. They begged me for this chance.”

The answer made Archie lean forward in his seat. “Is this not a jest?”

“Sir, if you wish to find out, you may ask the alchemist,” Lansius said, naming a third neutral party.

All eyes were on Calub, who serenely enjoyed the limelight and proclaimed, “The clerk spoke the truth. I overheard that the enslaved Rhomelians wanted to join. They refused to return, as their homeland was rife with constant raids, famine, and extreme poverty.”

Archie shook his head and massaged his temple with one hand. “I have yet to ascertain whether you are the ones responsible for today’s battle. And here you are bearing a substantial gift. Lansius, what kind of man are you?”

“An ambitious one, sir,” stated Lansius nervously.

Archie couldn’t hold himself and burst into a fit of laughter. After he laughed his heart out, he exclaimed, “So why do you refuse to claim the highest honor?”

Refuse to claim? The highest honor?

Lansius was clueless, but felt obligated to honor the men. “Sir, I’m just the one making plans. It’s Anci, Hugo, and Arvenians who bleed for you. I dare not to claim the honor.”

“So you don’t deny making it?”

“Indeed, sir. I made the plans, but they’re not even worth mentioning.”

“To beat a hundred and fifty with just forty, and you say it’s not worth mentioning,” Archie said with a dry chuckle, and then he suddenly proclaimed, “Enough! You shall not make fun of me any further.”

Like a storm in a daylight, Archie’s wrath was so unpredictable. Lansius almost begged for a pardon, but Archie stood over him and asked, “Tell me oh clerk, what is thy desire?”

Is this a trick . . . ?

Cold sweat ran down his back. Then what Felis had said flashed through his mind. “Money,” Lansius said and quickly added, “I want to free an enslaved friend in Feodosia.”

The answer seemed to be correct, as a stiff smile was on Archie’s lips. “People fight for their own interests. A man who asks for nothing cannot be trusted,” he imparted to Lansius.

Lansius absorbed the words and saw the change in his master’s expression.

Archie gazed upon Lansius with renewed interest. “Lansius from Bellandia, from this moment on, I take you as a squire of the tent.”

The sudden declaration was met with a clamor from the room.

What the! What kind of job is that? I don’t even like tents.

“As for the money.” Archie reached for a small wooden chest and showed its contents. The bottom part was filled with valuables. “One part for my House, another for the troops, and this shall be yours.” He grabbed a fistful and opened his palm for Lansius to see.

The emotional roller coaster made Lansius speechless, but he was so thrilled by the golden reflections.

Archie dangled the prize from his hand, so Lansius crouched with a raised hand to accept his reward.

The small coins and two heavy rings trickled into his hands. A few hit his bandaged right thumb, but the adrenaline dulled the pain.

Lansius stared at the five gold coins and two rings in his hands. It felt surreal, so he clenched them tight, then opened his palm to see the soot, ink, and blood staining the coins and rings.

It’s real . . . they’re real!

Filled with gratitude, Lansius exclaimed ecstatically, “All hail, Lord Arte of Arvena!”

Archie guffawed and slapped his thigh.

All hail, Felicity, my goddess of luck.

Lansius had received a substantial reward, and it would be foolish to ask for more, yet he couldn’t betray his conscience. “My Lord, may I ask another thing on behalf of the wounded men?”

Archie looked at him cautiously. “Speak.”

“The men are in danger from fouled bandages. One man’s blood shouldn’t make contact with another’s. It would be so kind to provide them with clean linen. They need it more than their share of loot.”

“Is it true?” Archie beckoned to the others in the room, all of whom turned their gaze at Calub.

The alchemist bowed slightly. “Indeed, Sir. This Lansius fellow seemed to know a thing or two about medicine.”

“Then it’s settled.” Archie rose from his seat. “Thomas, pick the worn-out and faded ones, and ensure that enough is distributed for their needs. I need men to fight wars, not clothes.”

The next day, the sky was clear and cloudless, displaying warm shades of pink, orange, and gold. Lansius rode in a slim cart, drawn by two swift horses, accompanied only by a coachman.

Lansius had taken the ride from Pozna. Instead of spending the night there like the rest of the Arvenians, Felis had persuaded him to press on. It was costly, but she deemed it necessary. Lansius went with her suggestion and rode with just a few hours of daylight remaining.

At first, he was doubtful, but the slim cart, with its sleek and light construction, proved to be fast and nimble. With nothing onboard but Lansius and his bags, it easily maintained high speed through the bends and corners.

The summer sunset was breathtakingly beautiful. The fields all around them were illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun, casting long shadows over the rolling hills and tranquil hamlets dotting the verdant landscape. For a moment, Lansius forgot about his troubles and simply basked in the peaceful beauty. It was a rare chance to escape from the harsh reality of medieval life, so he savored every minute of it.

His new brigandine, looted from the manor, felt comfortable despite the steel plates inside. It was a finely crafted piece that fit his body perfectly. Even the backing felt soft and supple. He might not find what he was looking for, but Sabina Rustica had made Lansius a wealthy man. His pouch was laden enough to free a slave, buy a farm somewhere, and live peacefully.

Driven by his newfound wealth and status, he dared to dream about living carefree with his family from Bellandia. He also fantasized about living together with Stefi.

A sudden realization hit him.

Hang on, when did I look at her like that?

The memory eluded him, while the cart overtook another horse-drawn cart along the cobbled road. “This feels like a race.”

The coachman let a chuckle. “Worry not, maester. You’re in good hands.”

The wild and jerky ride continued eastward. Soon, they started to see the outlines of the city of Feodosia, with its ancient, derelict, gray stone wall.

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