Horizon of War Series

Old Walls

Korimor

Holding on to his wooden crutch, Sir Hugo watched the somewhat formal yet awkward procession as the Lord and Lady departed. A routine had yet to be established for this novel method of transport, and the airship was evidently slow to take off—probably because its coachman-pilot thought the ceremony would take some time to finish. Yet, the Lord and Lady were not big on ceremonials, taking little delight in long speeches or unnecessary social functions.

After some time, everyone finally saw the airship take flight. It was a sight that burned into their memory. A human invention, made of silk and plant materials, took to the sky. The vessel then oriented itself and headed south to Korelia through the vast plains of the northern corridor.

The escorts had begun their march. Men-at-arms were attached to the baggage train, while cavalry and nomads surrounded the vicinity.

The airship, majestic in the sky, silently sailed into the wind.

As Hugo had expected, he could easily see that the people of Korimor were elated, and the reason was easy to understand.

To fly in the sky was nothing short of miraculous. It was simply unthinkable, beyond what people believed was possible. More importantly, flight had been the realm of legends, as only the Ancients in their dragon form were recorded to soar through the skies. And now, this foreigner from nowhere, who had taken control of many cities in Lowlandia, brought a flying ship and soared on it.

Just like the people of Korimor, Hugo too was spurred by this display of power. This was another one of House Lansius' grand achievements. He felt proud to be part of it and let out a smirk.

"What's with the smirk?" asked Dietrich, who was beside him. His hair had grown long, making him look more like a rugged delinquent than a respectable captain and steward.

Hugo chuckled but waved him off. "That's none of your business."

Dietrich chuckled and breathed deeply, enjoying the scenery. "So, when will you depart?"

"Next week or so. I need it to be fully healed; I don't want to climb to Umberland with one bad leg," Hugo replied, then added, "Plenty of time to supervise your handling of the city's many affairs."

"I'm sure Umberland isn't the only thing you're thinking of climbing," Dietrich quipped.

Hugo laughed loudly, clearly enjoying the joke. "Come, let's enjoy some mare wine and duck eggs."

"Isn't it too early for kumis?" Dietrich raised an eyebrow.

"Mare wine and duck eggs aren't considered a drink but medicine," the knight passionately argued.

"With that kind of approach, no wonder you've already got a soft belly," Dietrich countered.

Behind them, Roger stifled a laugh, prompting the two to turn around.

"Oi, oi, don't report this," Hugo protested.

"To be clear, I'm about to reject the proposal," Dietrich added in jest.

Roger burst out laughing at their reaction and then left the scene. It had become a running joke that the squire was the Lord's eyes and ears.

"You know?" Hugo said, returning to the previous conversation. "I've asked Francisca about kumis, and she said it's delightful. A bit on the strong side, but also milky like mother's milk."

Dietrich shook his head while massaging his temple. "Now, what am I supposed to do with that information?"

"She also said, 'I don’t mind messing around, but I promised myself to Sir Harold. If you really like someone like me, you should travel to Umberland; I have sisters and cousins there. Chances are, you won’t be able to tell us apart.'"

Dietrich rolled his eyes at the unsolicited information. The two shared a carriage and headed to the biggest tavern in the city. There, they started a drinking contest to honor the Lord and Lady's departure. And the people there were only too eager to join them.

***

Korelia, Council Chamber

The sound of whistling echoed through the council chamber. It was Sir Justin’s way of easing the monotony as he sifted through a stack of letters demanding his attention. Surprisingly, he had transitioned well from being part knight, part mercenary, to being the steward of a growing city.

His whistle carried a cheerful yet lonely melody today, reminiscent of a shepherd alone in the field. He practiced it because his daughter, Eleanor, liked it. Whistling was one of the ways for this Arvenian-born knight to connect with his daughter, something he had done since she was a baby.

Sir Justin’s whistling abruptly stopped, startling Calub and Cecile enough that they glanced at him. Sensing their gazes, he explained, "I just read that the Lord and Lady are currently in Korimor and heading to Korelia."

"That’s good news," Cecile remarked with a sigh of relief.

"But you seem troubled," Calub observed.

"Well..." Sir Justin hesitated, then passed the report to Calub, who immediately perused it.

"Have you found the words 'air' and 'ship'?"

"Indeed, the report mentions an airship," Calub confirmed.

"And what is 'air' and 'ship' together? A ship sailing in the wind?" Sir Justin chuckled, his laughter rich with amusement. "Is the scribe writing this in a hurry or something?"

"Must be something like that," Calub stroked his chin thoughtfully, while Cecile offered only a shrug when Sir Justin looked her way.

"Well, anyhow, we'd better prepare for their arrival," Sir Justin concluded.

"How soon, do you think?" Cecile asked.

The knight looked at the date on the document. "It was written ten days ago. If we assume that's when the Lord arrived in Korimor, then accounting for resting time, social events, policy-making, and the travel time here, I'd say we still have at least two weeks to a month. However..." He glanced at the two. "It’s the Black Lord we're talking about. He could arrive here tonight. And I have no intention of letting him see me unprepared."

Calub and Cecile smiled, and the three began to make preparations.

...

Seven nights later, in Korelia, rumors swirled about a mysterious white beam of light approaching from the north. Shortly afterward, reports from the city gates indicated that cavalry and nomads were entering the city. Moreover, there were sightings of large objects obscuring the stars in the night sky, as if flying past the city.

As the night progressed, more reports emerged of people seeing the Lord and Lady’s personal banners carried by the cavalry. Rumors of their return spread like wildfire through the taverns and streets, setting all of Korelia abuzz. The Korelians, naturally eager to confirm the truth of these tales, gossiped throughout the night.

By dawn, even without an official announcement, the evidence was visible to all. On the newly developed eastern side of the town, not far from the Eastern Mansion, stood a grand ivory object like none had ever seen. It was taller than a several-story building and almost as long as the market row.

Its upper part was rounded, shaped like a goat in full fur, and somehow kept afloat by unknown powers. Beneath it, a wooden boat was attached by a series of wires.

Despite the guards posted around it, a captivated and curious crowd quickly formed, eager to learn more about the mysterious object and its connection to the rumors of the Lord and Lady’s return.

The guardsmen who confronted them, however, remained tight-lipped. As the crowd swelled with Korelians from all corners of the city, Sir Harold, one of the Lord’s top retainers, stepped forward to address them.

The knight, easily recognized by his height and sharp jawline, began to speak. "I know you're all curious. But the Lord and Lady are sleeping—"

His words were quickly interrupted by cheers, sighs of relief, and murmurs.

"Order, order!" bellowed one of the senior guardsmen next to him.

Sir Harold smiled and resumed, "As I was saying, the Lord and Lady are resting from their exhausting journey. So please, return to your homes. You will have the opportunity to see them once they are refreshed."

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"When will we be able to see them?" someone shouted, and the rest murmured in support.

"Soon," he reassured them with a smile and turned around, despite the frantic shouting of more questions.

However, the knight's words ignited a wave of euphoria among the onlookers. For those who had witnessed the Battle of Korelia and heard of the subsequent, stunning victories at Korimor, South Hill, the coup at Three Hills, and Umberland, Lord Lansius and Lady Audrey had become larger than life.

While they had celebrated with each new victory announced, nothing could match the honor and deep longing to see their heroes in person. After a series of victories, the people viewed them as more than just leaders but figures who had transcended the ordinary.

Thus, the news spread like wildfire, and by breakfast, every Korelian had learned that the Lord and Lady had returned. The city's atmosphere turned exuberantly cheerful, filled with plenty of anticipation.

***

West Tiberia, Capital, Beneath the Lake

Sagarius had packed several days' worth of food as usual, along with spare clothes, her gems, a blanket, and a dwarven weapon for a last resort. She donned common traveling attire she had found on her last journey, styled to blend in and avoid drawing unwanted attention—a necessary precaution for a woman traveling alone, which often garnered scrutiny from the locals.

Today, all of the staff gathered to send her off, escorting her through the last remaining path that connected to the world above. The shaft’s entrance was located not far from an unused stone quarry. They didn’t stop at the entrance but continued for a good hour through the dimly lit corridors, armed with gemstones of light.

Suddenly, they found a large junction where the tunnels branched in various directions. There, Sagarius paused and turned to the crowd, many of whom had known her all their lives. “Does anyone wish to come with me?”

Their smiles were tinged with sadness as they shook their heads. She noticed the wistful glances of the younger staff members, whose parents likely had forbidden them from venturing out. Sagarius let out a smile and said gently, "Alright, then you should return now. Beyond this point, the air gets really uncomfortable."

The old man stepped forward, his face creased with lines of age and concern. "Please take care, My Lady. My heart will always be with you," he said, his voice heavy, likely from knowing he would never see her again.

Yira added her farewell with tears in her eyes. "Visit us when you have the time. We'll miss you."

Sagarius nodded, then, realizing that decades might pass before she could return, she said, "Remember well that this place may have been first envisioned by a Grand Progenitor, built using the mighty tools of the dwarves, and made to house an Elvish family. But now, it is maintained by humans. It's your world, your place, your abode. Be the proud owner of this world, and my only wish is to be greeted as a guest the next time I visit."

Everyone bowed their heads, the senior ones with tears in their eyes. Some muttered, "Long live the Empress."

Sagarius smiled and, with a final look at the faces she had come to cherish, turned and stepped into the shadowy path ahead, the echoes of her boots against the stone the only sound in the quiet goodbye.

...

The woman with the white hair traveled alone through the old stone corridor. She had turned off her gemstone as she needed no light to travel even in complete darkness. Occasionally, a small golem with a mono eye would nod at her when she encountered them at a large junction that branched off to access different parts of the subterranean world.

Long ago, these golems would have followed and escorted her, but now their joints were beyond repair. Increasingly, they relegated themselves to static guardians, ever watchful for intruders.

Unlike the golems in the armory, she didn’t need to disarm these. These smaller ones were developed to secure the dwarven's gallery roads in the old continent and were eventually deployed en masse to combat the rise of the fell beasts and their ilk at the end of the dwarven age.

They were designed to be autonomous, simpler, less armored, and far less powerful than those in the armory. In exchange, they were highly efficient, could function non-stop, required virtually no maintenance, and could draw energy directly from this service shaft.

The service shaft was the actual name of this corridor. It wasn't meant as a passageway, unlike the grand archways that her father used, which led straight to the Palace and could accommodate three horse carriages side by side. This shaft existed for maintenance and just happened to have a single access to the world outside.

Because of how it was connected to various functions within the subterranean world, it turned into a labyrinth-like an ant's nest. Yet, Sagarius always used this path because she disliked being greeted like royalty.

To her, this maze wasn't a labyrinth but a playground.

An empty playground, to be exact, as the place rarely needed maintenance. Built to mimic a dwarven citadel, albeit with a touch of elven taste, the facility was largely autonomous. Its grand gemstones, a rarity even in the previous era, drew power directly from the world and required little care.

After another hour, the heat and humidity increased so much that Sagarius began to use her barrier to cool off. Despite her lithe body, she proceeded at a steady pace.

Sometimes it was stairs, but it was mostly a continuous steady incline. After half a day of walking in the dark through hot, humid, and stale air, Sagarius reached her usual resting space. It was an unused antechamber with a working well and a golem that stood like a statue. It nodded to her, and she nodded back.

Sagarius decided to rest early and fell asleep easily without touching her food. Elves had a different metabolism, especially for someone highly trained like her.

It was a long and fulfilling sleep as her body needed to adjust to the new conditions. When she awoke, she packed her bag and continued to walk after a costard fruit and several sips of drink. With little rest, she steadily climbed, accompanied only by her singing if she felt bored.

The only thing on her mind was whether her father's will had been a mistake. At one point, she paused in her tracks, her right hand touching the old stone wall to steady herself. "Wise or not, father's actions were based on the past era..."

Sagarius recalled her conflict and doubt. While she supported the decision to destroy the armory because of the dangers it posed, she remained conflicted about whether destroying the factory was the right choice. The factory housed remnants of Dwarven-era machinery, precision tooling, and an advanced furnace, all of which were undoubtedly crucial to the Imperium.

While she understood her father's reluctance due to the risks, she saw it as an act against progress. "It's ironic," she muttered about her father's stance at the end of his life.

The Ageless One had been a champion of Human advancement, going so far as to go against his mentor, one of the last Grand Progenitors. Yet, in the end, he barred humans from gaining access to the lost technology.

"Was it a nudge of loyalty to the elves? The people who had forsaken his tribe?" she pondered but found no conclusive answer. All she knew was that she finally had a life of her own.

There was a time when Sagarius yearned for the Imperium, to take the helm, to see just how far she could drive it forward, to achieve even a glimpse of what the Dwarves had achieved. Alas, that wish had died.

Now, it was nothing more than a childish dream. She had grown older and realized that playing God-King over humans was futile. No matter how pure and good her intentions, it would be short-lived and ultimately bring calamity, as the rule would be based on a fragile structure.

This belief was tempered by observing her father's rule and its impact on human society. She had lived among the many different peoples of the Imperium for hundreds of years under the guise of a healer, herbalist, or apothecary.

Sagarius herself harbored no ambitions. She was just happy to finally be free from the burden of inheriting the Imperium. To her, it was a cold and heavy shackle, especially since her brother was returning to the elven lands with their mother and had vowed never to return.

She stopped and sighed, feeling guilty over a lie she had told her father to comfort him. In truth, she had no intention of returning to the elven lands.

Despite all she had said to him, Sagarius felt more at ease living among humans. She found them to be frank, less insidious, and direct, perhaps due to their short lifespans. In them, she saw the beauty of life.

Deep down, she was willing to assist, but only someone she deemed worthy. On her last journey, one House kept popping up. It wasn’t a great house, but a small one that skillfully controlled the province while remaining in the shadows. And for generations, it had continued to produce good talents.

She had been considering assisting them covertly and was hopeful that the head of the house in this generation was as capable as the previous ones. With that in mind, she continued her pace through the monotonous corridors where the only sound was the echoes of her own footsteps.

***

Korelia, Eastern Mansion

Lansius woke up, his eyes bleary from a deep sleep—the kind that makes one forget where they are upon waking. It was a different ceiling, but he recognized the place.

"Morning," his wife greeted him softly, sitting on the bed next to him. Then, with the smirk she often employed before doing something crazy, she added, "And welcome back."

Lansius chuckled as he sat up in their wedding bed, thankfully freshly cleaned and maintained by the staff. To his left and right, the old plaster walls embraced him. "We're truly home," he muttered.

"Indeed. And they won't bother us at least for today," she replied energetically.

"I'm grateful for that. That airship needed more pillows," he commented, feeling an ache in his back.

"But you had extra," she said, surprised.

"It needed a proper cushioned seat," he argued passionately.

"Then commission one," she advised.

"Certainly," he remarked. Now, he had the full resources of a Lord, even holding the baron's patent, likely stored somewhere in the castle.

"Oh, I know that look," she sighed, interrupting his train of thought.

Lansius looked at her, asking, "What?"

"Your eyes are full of ideas. So I'll probably see a busy day tomorrow."

He chuckled, understanding her concern. "Most likely. I need the city to be up and running before winter."

"What's your plan anyway? Can this humble wife hear of it?" she teased.

Lansius stifled a laugh. "Sure, but there's a lot to do and I don't know where to begin or what to end," he revealed, pondering the long list of tasks he wanted to tackle in Korelia.

"You're not feeling fatigued, are you?" Audrey asked.

The question made him look at her amusingly. "Hey, it's me who should be asking that. So, how about you, Drey? Are you feeling okay?"

"Well, I have no more nausea," she answered cheerfully. "Just a little, but it's under control. The old nanny, who's also a midwife, told me that it's supposed to be that way."

Lansius nodded. He wasn’t exactly knowledgeable about pregnant women, certainly not the women of this world.

Audrey got up from the bed and took his cane from the bedside.

"No, no need. I won’t be using it," said Lansius, also getting up from the bed. There was no longer any discomfort in his wound, and the skin had healed, leaving just a subtle mark from the operation that removed the embedded bolt head.

Audrey gazed at him, concerned.

"I feel better. I don't think I need it anymore," he explained.

"It must be because of the duck egg," she declared happily.

Lansius leaned in and whispered, "No, silly. It’s because of you." He hinted at her attempts to heal him with magic while they were flying on the airship.

Audrey was taken aback, unconvinced. "Me? I hardly did anything."

"Didn’t you try to heal me with magic?" he prompted.

Instead of recalling it, Audrey giggled. "That was just a lousy attempt. I’m sure it didn’t do anything; my magic is barely there."

"I'm serious," Lansius said while pulling her into his embrace. "Whatever Ingrid said, you obviously possess the gift. I even saw you correct the airship's heading."

"That was just the wind and only in ideal situations," she countered, pushing him slightly. "Husband, flattery won't get you far." Yet despite her words, she pushed him back onto the bed with a grin and then began to crawl over him.

"Isn’t it dangerous for the baby?" he asked as she began to kiss him.

She looked him in the eye, cheeks reddened. "I asked the nanny, and she said while the nobles don't do it, the commoners do it with no issue."

"Well, since we're of commoner's birth, then it should be fine for us," he quipped, eliciting a giggle from her. They spent their time together, resting in a place they now called home.

On the desk lay drawings and plans that Lansius had made for Korelia. Among them was a simple invention that could transform the entire steppe, much like it had transformed the Wild West. He had completed his study, and it was feasible; it just needed a guiding hand. However, the issue was that once released, controlling it would be beyond his grasp.

***

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