Horizon of War Series

Shifting Fronts

Acting upon the guest's latest information, Lord Lansius sent Dietrich with his fastest riders as scouts to the bulwark. Guided by an Umberland rider, they quickly departed. Meanwhile, the discussion in the tent continued.

"Tell me, why are there half-beasts that look like you and Lord Beatrix, but also some who appear larger and more beast-like?" Sir Harold asked.

The guest answered cheerfully, "Indeed, half-breeds like us vary in appearance depending on our human parentage. My Lord Beatrix and I have at least six human ancestors, thus we're more akin to humans. Meanwhile, those with fewer than three human ancestors display more pronounced beastmen features."

Sir Harold nodded, while Lansius and Audrey merely observed without reaction.

The guest elaborated, "We usually don't keep many of them around. We cull them when necessary."

"Cull?" Sir Harold echoed, voicing the room's surprise.

"Yes," she answered clearly. "It might sound cruel to humans, as you never harm your offspring, but we mate much earlier than humans do, and in greater numbers per birth. Thus, if we're not careful with the larger males, there could be unfortunate tensions and conflict among the tribes."

There were hesitant nods among Lord Lansius' staff. The Lord himself began to understand Lord Beatrix's motive in agreeing to send the guest to him. Though they named her a warrior, her speech revealed her capability as an ambassador for her kin.

Mistaking his gaze, the guest ventured, "My Lord, contrary to popular belief, we don't hate humans more than we hate beastmen or other half-breeds."

Lord Lansius offered a stiff smile and decided to entertain her words, "And what's the reason for that?"

"Our ancestors learned from captured beastmen about the situation within the confederacy. It's cruel and savage, ruled solely by the strongest. Everyone is a slave to the chieftain."

"The rule of the strongest..." Lord Lansius mused. "But it's the same everywhere. We humans have our nobility. Also, in the past, humans did enslave your kin. Is there no resentment?"

The guest replied without hesitation, "My grandmother and mother were born free. Our ancestors didn't speak badly of all humans, just those who mistreated our kin. We also have old Kae's words for guidance."

Sir Harold, intrigued, decided to ask, "The Steward claimed that there's very little crime involving half-breeds among humans. Is this true?"

"It appears so. Rest assured, we don't attack unless someone we hold dear is harmed, or we are in deep hunger," she added the last part as a jest, chuckling despite the others' unsure reactions.

"Interesting," Lord Lansius commented. "Is there anything else we should know about your kin?"

"Not that I can recall. Oh, we do have a concept of marriage, but it's seasonal," she said, locking eyes with Sir Harold with a taunting grin. "But I don't mind human marriage. Some have found happiness in it."

Sterling swallowed, while Servius grinned. But the knight remained calm, "The Lord of Umberland offered me a warrior, and I intend to accept a warrior, nothing more. That is, if my Lord and Lady give their permission," Sir Harold replied diplomatically.

The guest then turned to Lord Lansius, who answered, "We need time to think. It's best if you and your escorts take some rest. Is there anything else you wish to say?"

"Just one thing." She bowed her head slightly. "I don't have a human name, so you must name me."

"That will come if we accept your service," Lord Lansius countered, buying time to avoid any unnecessary issues.

***

Lansius

Dietrich returned to the Lord’s encampment after midday. He found the Lord and Lady with their staff, but the half-breed guest was absent. Without delay, he greeted them, "My Lord, My Lady—"

Observing the sweat and dust on Dietrich's face, Lansius offered him a goblet of water, which he eagerly accepted and drank in one gulp. "Gratitude, My Lord."

Lansius nodded and said calmly, "Give your report when you're ready."

"The Nicopolans at the bulwark have indeed contracted a severe plague. Hundreds are weakened, lying on the battlements and near the gates. They even begged us for help upon seeing us."

Lansius exchanged glances with Audrey and their command staff.

Servius was lost in thought, while Sir Harold couldn't help but smile at the report. Before anyone could voice their thoughts, Dietrich added, "After a brief discussion, they agreed to surrender."

Lansius was shocked and stared at Dietrich. "You speak the truth?"

"Only the truth, My Lord," Dietrich replied confidently, with a mirthful smile on his lips.

Sir Harold chuckled, while Audrey appeared skeptical. Meanwhile, Servius cautioned, "My Lord, it could be a trap."

"Come now, Servius. Can’t you show a bit of trust in these Nicopolans?" Sir Harold teased.

Yet, the Nicopolan condottiere remained unmoved, and Lansius shared his caution. "Dietrich, what convinced you that the plague is real?"

"The smells," the expert rider explained, "even from afar, the air reeked badly. There’s a putrid stench from vomit and... other waste."

Lansius stroked his chin, realizing the Nicopolans had been holding out in the bulwark for possibly weeks. Due to fear of beastmen, they had literally barricaded themselves inside. "Why don't they retreat if the situation is that bad?" he wondered.

"They said they also saw beastmen prowling on the other side, coming from the mountains."

Lansius turned to Audrey for her opinion, and she said, "The half-breed must've found another route to bypass the bulwark, or the bulwark is in such bad shape that it could be easily bypassed."

Looking at Dietrich, Lansius asked, "What about the Umberland men with you? What's their take on the Nicopolans' surrender?"

"Well," he pondered briefly, "much of the bulwark's interior is in disrepair and couldn't comfortably accommodate a large number of people."

"Meaning it's probably poorly cleaned and also using unclean drinking water." Lansius then looked at Sterling and said, "Go to our guest and politely ask for someone who had been posted at the bulwark."

"At once." Sterling promptly left the tent.

Audrey looked at Sir Harold and quipped, "So, what will you call her?"

The knight scratched his head. "I'm at a loss, My Lady. We'd be honored if you could choose a name for her."

She shook her head. "I don't want to cause a political issue if I pick the wrong name."

Sir Harold grinned, then looked at Servius. "Any suggestions?"

"You're jesting, right? I doubt she'll want a Nicopolan name," he replied in disbelief.

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"Good point," the knight conceded.

Audrey looked at Lansius, who only shrugged before commenting, "We might be overthinking this. Yes, she could be a spy, and yes, she may be looking for a way to assassinate us. But it's also possible she's merely an ambassador for her kin."

Audrey nodded but didn't comment, hinting that she was unsure.

"Servius, give me counsel," Lansius asked.

"Well," the older gentleman thought briefly and said, "If it were someone else, I'd be worried, but since it's Sir Harold, it should be fine."

Sir Harold shook his head. "You think too highly of me. She could definitely kill me in my sleep."

Servius’ expression was a mix of jest and earnestness. "Just make sure to put up a fight, and make it loud. That way, we’ll know if you’re in trouble."

"Judging from her claw and her fangs, help might come too late," the knight concluded with a sigh.

"It might be too late for you, but at least I can save our Lord and Lady," Servius quipped.

Sir Harold laughed and slapped his comrade's arm, prompting laughter in return.

Once the laughter had subsided, Lansius asked, "So, how should we proceed with this offer?"

“From a knight’s standpoint, declining a host’s offer is a delicate matter, particularly when it’s as thoughtfully presented as this one. When an important host offered a warrior, it would be unbecoming of me to refuse. Moreover, she even requested a name,” Sir Harold explained.

Servius added, "Rejecting the offer might dishonor them, or worse, provide a pretext for betrayal."

Audrey unexpectedly offered a different perspective. “Even men displayed certain tendencies when thinking of betrayal. For a half-beast, such signs should be even more apparent. Their animalistic nature could betray them.”

"How can you be so sure?" Lansius asked.

"I observed that their claws come out by instinct, as do their fangs. They also seem to speak openly and trust more readily."

Lansius exchanged glances with his staff, and Servius, with a hint of bitterness, conceded, "True. Humans are likely better liars. I trusted a man like Sergio once, so I’m in no position to judge a man, much less a half-human."

Eying Sir Harold, Lansius said, "Sir, ultimately it's your decision. A refusal might have implications, but I'm willing to shoulder them rather than risk your life."

The knight grinned. "My Lord, all this worrying is merely a mental exercise. As for me, I plan to use her as a sparring partner. Regardless of their motives, it’s always beneficial to be adept at fighting them."

Hearing such a confident answer, Audrey nodded at Lansius, who also agreed and declared, "Then it's settled. We'll accept her into our ranks. As for the name..."

"I'll decide in a day or two. I'll consult with the Umberland men so I can have someone to blame from their side," the knight made a sly grin.

Lansius gave a thumbs-up to show his approval.

...

Shortly after, Sterling returned with an old man who had a thin grey beard, wore a matching grey doublet, and had a scar across his chin.

"My Lord, this man has served at the bulwark for several years," Sterling introduced the man from Umberland.

"My Lord," the man greeted, "I’ve served at the bulwark intermittently for over ten years."

"Tell me, where does the garrison usually find clean water when stationed at the bulwark?" Lansius asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"There are wells inside the bulwark, but we prefer to find a creek outside to refill our waterskins."

"Is the well water not good?"

"It appears clean, but it always has a suspicious smell, especially in the summer. Hence, we use it only for cleaning our gear, not for drinking."

Lansius nodded. "What about the latrine? Does it have adequate facilities inside?"

"My Lord, there is indeed a fancy stone latrine, but it's older than Umberland and never seems to work. No noble ever thought to fix it since the problem was buried deep within the heavy stone flooring. So, we resort to using buckets. It works, too, since we don't need to clean the place as often."

"Is there ever any case of plague spreading?"

The man seemed to mull over something. "Rashes, mites, and lice, but nothing too serious."

Lansius didn't expect such an answer. "How many men are usually in a garrison?"

"Small, My Lord. It should be fifty, but only around twenty actually sleep in the bulwark. The rest are cavalry patrols who come at intervals."

Lansius was surprised, turning to Dietrich. "Isn't the bulwark quite lengthy?"

"It is, My Lord," Dietrich confirmed.

"Then how come you only have so few men as a garrison?" Lansius returned to the Umberland man.

"My Lord, nobody cares about the mountain pass. I believe smugglers use their own secret route from Nicopola directly to Three Hills. That's what makes money. Meanwhile, Umberland is a small city in the mountains. Nobody likes to venture here, and we like it that way," he answered honestly with a smile.

Lansius made a mental note to investigate these smugglers. He had heard about them, but since they only smuggled exotic goods and not people, he had put them low on his risk scale. He considered them unlikely to smuggle an army. "Do you have a weapon arsenal inside?"

"Old, rusted weapons that we've tried in vain to maintain. Most are older than my grandfather."

"How about crossbows?"

"We have five crossbowmen, but they didn't keep any in the bulwark."

Lansius began to see just how deserted this outpost, the bulwark, was. "Tell me, what do you think will happen if several hundred people stayed inside the bulwark for months without being able to venture out?"

The man took his time to ponder. "Feeding them would be the biggest issue. But I pity those who drink or use that well water for cooking. Worse, I doubt there's enough sleeping space since the rest of the bulwark that penetrates the mountain is sealed by stone doors, and the key has long been lost or kept by the Lord."

Lansius exhaled. Now, he was certain that the Nicopolans likely fell victim to waterborne pathogens from contaminated wells, cholera, or dysentery from poor hygiene. With no dedicated facilities for clean and dirty water, contamination was likely. And it only took one person to spread disease to the rest since soap and handwashing weren't common practices, especially for war refugees.

He recalled that the number one killer on the battlefield was not from weapons, but poor sanitation. The primary cause was water contamination; as camps were packed tightly to provide security, they tended to overwhelm the clean water source with waste. Not to mention the issues with unsterilized knives used for bloodletting and operations.

While Lansius took some time to ponder, Audrey took the reins. "Dietrich, are they well-armed?"

"Helmets, gambesons, ringmails, likely stolen, as well as poleaxes," Dietrich recalled.

"How about crossbowmen on the battlements?"

"We have no sightings of them, My Lady."

"Another question," Audrey said. "Is their condition really that bad?"

"Not many could move around freely," Dietrich replied. "They look weak and seem to struggle to even appear threatening."

His words prompted the staff to nod. Audrey continued, "Do we know their numbers?"

"Unfortunately, they refused to disclose their number, but we estimate at least two hundred."

She peeked at Lansius, who merely observed. Then she asked the most crucial question, "What about the terms? Did they ask for anything?"

"They asked for medicine and food in exchange for the bulwark."

"So, not a total surrender," Audrey muttered.

"Such is the case," Dietrich confirmed.

Lansius rose, gathering everyone's attention, and declared, "Get the dragoons ready. We'll march today. And prepare for a night battle."

***

While his dragoons were preparing for departure, Lansius summoned his corps of scribes and bookkeepers, then gathered the Nicopolans and camp followers. Despite having no preparation for a speech, recent developments forced him to accelerate his plans.

Without using a herald, Lansius appeared before the assembled crowd of a few hundred people in the village square, who greeted him in unison, "My Lord."

With an array of grinning and smiling faces before him, Lansius addressed them casually, "Gentlemen. Many of you might be thinking about our current situation, pondering the war and famine, where to winter, and whether you'll be fighting another battle in Nicopola. Well, fear not, for you have arrived at your destination."

A murmur of disbelief swept through the crowd, but Lansius pressed forward, "Five hundred of you, along with your families, may start living in this village. Food will be provided until you can harvest your first winter crops."

The crowd's reaction slowly turned to ecstatic cheers upon realizing they were essentially being offered houses and lands.

"A similar number may settle in the two adjacent villages. However, this offer of house and land isn't free," Lansius continued, prompting laughter at the notion.

"You have traveled with me to South Hill and toiled in Umberland, but that's hardly comparable to what my veterans have endured. Thus, I wanted two things from you: First, to farm both winter and summer crops. Your battle will be against famine, and many lives, including your family, will depend on your labor."

The crowd nodded in agreement, many taking the order to heart.

"Secondly, help protect this borrowed land. You might not know this, but the Lord of Umberland has offered a deal: if any of you wish to continue living here, she'll accept you as her people. So, when the time comes, kindly pay the Lord of Umberland her due and her taxes. But for now, pay it to me—in white grains or brown grains."

Lansius noted the good reactions and gratitude on the crowd's faces. Without wasting time, he continued as the horses were arrayed and Audrey had reappeared in ringmail. "The details of which house or land you'll be assigned will be determined by my staff. Mind the word, 'assigned.' I'll entertain no complaints about the land or housing. If it doesn’t meet your expectations, feel free to join me on the next campaign."

This elicited chuckles from the crowd.

"Lastly, my staff will have the authority to maintain order, call for training, rotate guard duty, and maintain a military presence in the area. So, it might resemble more of a military camp than a normal rural village, but remember, we're still on the verge of a crisis, so complacency is not an option."

The people who surrounded him eagerly offered nods of understanding, signaling their readiness to comply.

Lansius gave another look toward the Nicopolans he had fought and shown mercy to on the plains of Korimor. Unlike then, their eyes now showed hope and even a sparkle of admiration. These were the same people who had toiled hard on the farms of South Hill. "Men," he called in a warmer tone, "it just occurred to me that this might be the last time I gather you all again like this. Let it be known that I'm grateful for all your work and your trust in me."

His tone and words changed the atmosphere. Many were moved by the appreciative words. He continued, "It's an honor to have you as part of my House. Now, I entrust this land to you. Make it grow, make it serve a purpose."

The Nicopolans, upon hearing these unexpected words, felt touched, and many had tears in their eyes. "Gratitude, My Lord, for your leadership," one shouted.

"Hail, the Lord of Korelia!" another reacted, and many more echoed.

Lansius allowed them a moment to show their appreciation before ending with, "Brothers in arms, you're dismissed. May we meet again in better times."

With everything settled and tears dried, Lansius hastened with the dragoons toward the gate of Nicopola. Sir Harold would serve as his rear guard, alongside the vanguard and the ever crucial baggage train.

***

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