Horizon of War Series

Two weeks had elapsed since the Arvenian troops had set out. Lansius sighed from boredom, for what felt like the hundredth time. He had taken Stefi’s advice to clean and maintain his equipment; his spare cloth was neatly rolled in his bag, the wooden bowl was scrubbed spotless, and he had even aired out the woolen coats and blankets until they were fluffy again. Still, he found himself with time on his hands.

I really could use a book . . . I wonder how everyone is doing in Bellandia. I hope Tanya isn’t overworking herself. It pains me to see her nails and fingers stained blue. And Mother Arryn, too.

He exhaled yet another sigh.

I wish I were with them . . .

The relentless weather was the primary source of his gloominess. However, it hadn’t always been this way. Upon the soldiers’ departure two weeks prior, the weather had cleared, allowing Lansius to roam Ceresia without hindrance. It was then that they received uplifting news: the Arvena forces had triumphantly crossed the frozen river, secured the bridge, and opened up the road to Riverstead.

Regrettably, just as the Arvenians should have been advancing toward Riverstead to set up their siege against the occupier force, the weather took a sudden turn for the worse. A relentless snowstorm besieged the region, with no end in sight.

Sitting not far from Lansius, two elderly men in worn gambeson were patching holes in their bedrolls and blankets. “It’s snowing again,” one of them muttered.

His companion stood up, looking concerned. They went to the barn door and secured it tightly.

“I’m worried about our people,” the second man whispered.

“They’ll be fine. Riverstead is a four-day journey from here,” his friend said, attempting to comfort him.

“But what about their supplies? They must be running low.”

“Their provisions should suffice. There’s no need to entertain such an ill-conceived thought.”

Lansius couldn’t help but feel a twinge of unease.

We’ve captured the bridge, but maintaining a siege and taking a city is a different matter. Especially in a winter like this.

Lansius, Stefi, the two old men, and two boys were in charge of a cartload of grains, small barrels of ale, cheese, and salted meat. They made up one of the many supply posts around Ceresia.

It wasn’t much, but due to winter, moving them all to a dedicated spot was a logistical nightmare. Thus, instead of a well-guarded camp, the supplies were scattered with minimal personnel to guard them.

The main body of the army marched with as many supplies as they could manage. What Lansius and the other groups were guarding were leftovers that were too cumbersome to transport in the snowy conditions.

Linking them with the main army was a group of men and mules who would come regularly for supplies. But the last visit—and the last news—had been ten days ago, before the weather worsened.

Keeping two thousand men from freezing with just medieval technology is almost unthinkable. Men need more than just food, tents, and blankets to survive the winter. Without a fire, nobody will survive at night. And firewood is cumbersome and not easy to get.

His experience in Bellandia had taught him that firewood must be dried through the summer. A properly dried wood would make good heat with almost no smoke. Meanwhile, recently cut logs had too much moisture and produced less heat with lots of smoke.

With the path likely blocked by heavy snow, Lansius could only imagine the hardship that befell the men on the front line. The nobles could furnish themselves with charcoal heaters, but the common folks could only rely on foraging the snowy woodlands for fallen logs and dead branches. Meanwhile, the stacks of firewood in Ceresia lay unused.

No use worrying about it.

The dullness endured until the orange glow of the setting sun seeped through the cracks in the wooden walls. Observing this, the two elderly men enlisted the boys’ help with chores.

The boys weren’t particularly helpful, but the men appreciated their company. The youngsters were the same age as their grandchildren, and their lively chatter distracted everyone from thoughts of war.

As the pottage bubbled away in the cauldron, the food preparations came to an end. To fill the time before supper, one of the men chopped wood while the other taught the boys some winter crafts.

In contrast, Stefi seemed to snooze effortlessly, as if she hadn’t a worry in the world. After sword training, a lunch break, and a bit of horse riding, she was indulging in a well-earned nap. To be fair, she had been eager for another round of training, but Lansius had declined, as his hands had developed painful blisters and calluses.

Stefi shifted in her sleep and faced Lansius’s direction, and he caught himself staring at her.

She does have a cute side. Without the fierce eyes, she looks innocent, even fragile.

She had told Lansius that it was rare for women to take up arms. Many called her a shield-maiden, a term that harked back to an older era when men and women fought side by side in battles. Nowadays, as peace and civilization had advanced, it had become uncommon. While some women did become huntresses or knights, they were considered outliers, and their numbers gradually diminished.

His stomach suddenly cramped up, stirring him from his thoughts. He rubbed his stomach, to no avail. It was getting worse, but he didn’t know why. He had been avoiding milk, but perhaps his habit of drinking wine, even when diluted with plenty of water, was causing discomfort in his unaccustomed stomach.

Quietly, Lansius resigned himself to the boredom and unease. He could try to strike up a conversation, but they had already exhausted their topics. Even Lansius, with his keen interest in the history of the Imperium, had grown weary of the old men’s tales. What he wouldn’t give for a visit from a wandering minstrel. Or even the internet and some films. He longed to learn more about the Ancients, the elves, half-elves, and dwarves. While this group, like most people, had some knowledge about their world’s origins, they lacked the insights a wandering minstrel could provide. Though it wasn’t always easy getting a minstrel to sing about what you wanted to hear.

The barn was suddenly filled with the sound of a creaking door. Lansius only managed a brief glance in its direction before Stefi sprang awake from her slumber.

Sword?!

Metallic flashes propelled Lansius into action. As Stefi rushed to the door with sword in hand, Lansius grabbed his sparring spear and ran after her. The two old men also scrambled for their weapons, but it was all for naught.

“Hello, boys,” greeted a familiar bearded face as he opened up the barn door.

“Thomas!” shouted the old man behind Lansius.

“Please spare me the blade,” Thomas said with a grin.

Stefi smirked and sheathed her sword. Lansius, too, recognized the man and lowered his guard.

Thomas was old enough to sport a full gray beard, but a protruding axe that hung on his belt proved he was still in his prime. Along with four other men, their horses, cart, and mules, they went inside to warm themselves.

Everybody asked about the frontline, but the newcomers just looked at each other with big grins and bright faces.

“Ah, damn it, just say it. We won,” Thomas said in the most anticlimactic way.

Everybody couldn’t believe what they heard.

“Did you—” Lansius tried to ask.

“We won!” somebody cut in, and the rest followed. A wave of emotion erupted as they realized that the war was over. Youngsters and old men alike jumped in joy and danced happily in celebration.

Spring of 4423 had yet to arrive when the Arvena troops successfully took back Riverstead City after a short siege.

It had been ten days since Thomas arrived in Ceresia, and they were now marching toward Riverstead. The trees were bare, their branches whitened by a layer of frost, and the road was still covered in ice. Despite the conditions, Stefi, Lansius, and the Ceresia supply group were in high spirits, as today marked the final leg of their journey.

Stefi rode her horse, while the coachman and the boys journeyed on the horse-drawn supply cart. Lansius, Thomas, and the others walked beside the mules laden with goods. By midday, they reached the outskirts of the city where they found a cobblestone road, significantly easing their travel.

Lansius was captivated by the grand city. The imposing towers and bridges of Riverstead were an impressive sight even from a distance. As they drew nearer, the view became even more remarkable, with rows of tall buildings with white plastered walls, their colorful roof tiles visible through the snow.

“Hehe, you like it here?” Stefi teased as they crossed the stone bridge leading into the city.

“This is awesome,” Lansius admitted as they entered.

“Wait till you see the market when it returns to normal. They have everything.”

Though currently sparse due to the war, the vividly colored shops and stalls caught Lansius’s attention. He marveled at the city’s advanced appearance compared to Bellandia.

“Come, let’s report before dark,” Stefi urged.

They said their farewells to Thomas and the rest of the supply group. Since they served the same lord and were stationed in the same town, they knew they would likely cross paths often.

Stefi and Lansius left their horse at the city stable and went in search of the captain. After asking several people, they finally found him supervising reconstruction efforts. Despite being well over fifty, he still possessed an imposing figure. He wore a thick woolen tunic in a rich yellow hue, layered over a padded gambeson for warmth.

Spotting Stefi, the captain gestured for her to approach.

“No mule is lost or injured, sir,” Stefi reported.

What the—that’s not how to report?!

The captain appeared annoyed, confirming Lansius’s suspicions. “The goods, are they safe?”

Unable to answer, Stefi nudged Lansius, who pulled a parchment from his bag and presented it. “The supplies from the village of Ceresia are present and accounted for, sir.”

The captain glanced at the parchment but dismissed it. “Keep it for the seneschal’s men.” Then, addressing Stefi, he said, “Make sure the animals are fed and rested. We’re going to need them soon.”

“Another battle, sir?” she inquired.

The captain snorted. “The northern bastard still refuses a truce or surrender. The lord is hunting the remnants as we speak.”

“I see,” she murmured.

“Will that be all?” the old man questioned.

Seemingly uneasy, she asked, “Mm, sir, any chance of payments?”

The captain shook his head. “You’ll have to take it up with the marshal or his deputy. And they’re both away.”

She sighed. “Sir, what about him?”

Her question perplexed the captain. “What about him? A new scribe?”

Stefi grinned. “We’re not sure yet, but the young lord personally recruited him.”

Her statement surprised the captain, who took a closer look at Lansius.

“I’m Lansius, from Bellandia village, sir.”

“Well, Lansius of Bellandia, what makes the young lord want you in his retinue?”

“I’m not sure—”

“Don’t be modest,” Stefi interrupted. “He can calculate real fast.”

Lansius noticed the captain eyeing his darker hair peeking out from his hood, but the captain didn’t mention it. “Did the young lord say anything more specific?”

Both shook their heads in unison.

The man sighed as he considered the situation. “It’s not the first time,” he muttered to himself. “Oi, fetch me the scribe,” he instructed his squire.

After waiting, an even older man appeared, wearing a long blue tunic and brown robe. The captain dictated a brief letter and handed it to Lansius.

“Give this letter to the municipal office tomorrow morning. That’ll be all.” He dismissed the duo.

Lansius bowed his head, but Stefi had another question.

“Mm, sir, what about me?”

“Let me guess, as I predicted, you convinced no one to take you as their squire?”

She shook her head and feigned sadness.

“Oh, begone.” He scolded her. “Just stick with this Lansius fellow.”

“Eh, really, I can do that?”

The captain didn’t elaborate and waved his hand to send them away.

The two walked away from the reconstruction site and headed into the main street.

“Well, I guess we’re stuck together,” Stefi said lightly.

“So glad that we’re both employed,” Lansius remarked.

She chuckled. “Come, let’s head home before dark. I reckon there’s a lot to be done.”

That made him stop in his track. “Home? You have a house?”

“Of course. I lived here, you dummy. Well, it was my master’s, but nobody threw me out when she passed, so . . .” she explained, carefree.

“Doesn’t the city have a . . .” He tried to find the word barracks, but he couldn’t find it in his vocabulary.

Stefi tilted her head.

Lansius seemed to realize that the word might not exist. “What’s the building where soldiers sleep?”

“Guardhouse? That’s reserved for guardsmen, and it’s cramped.”

“What about the other men-at-arms?”

“Oh, you mean billets. Yeah, the lord could ask the townsfolk to provide housing for his men, but I guess right now, Riverstead doesn’t need one.”

Most of the city was empty. Its people had evacuated when the war started last year. Some refugees had returned, but many would wait until spring or summer when the road was firm and passable.

The two walked down the cobbled path toward a lifeless, narrow alley. Not one in ten buildings had lights in their windows or smoke coming out from their chimney. They passed a tavern that was crowded with soldiers and city folks. The heavenly smell of grilled meat reached them. Stefi sniffed the air.

“Want to give it a go?” Lansius asked.

“We can’t,” she exclaimed and walked away.

He followed up and asked, “Is the place expensive?”

“Two copper, but we need to be frugal. Otherwise, we’ll go broke.”

Both of them sighed. Nobody expected the opponent to refuse a truce after defeat and keep up fighting. With the lord and most of his troops continuing the mop-up, nobody in Riverstead could pay them.

“Isn’t Lord Arte in Riverstead?” he asked with hope.

“Lans, never ask money directly from the nobles. They’ll get irritated. The ones who pay are either the seneschal or the chamberlain. Neither of them took part in the campaign, only their assistants attached to the lord or the marshal.”

“I see . . .” Lansius took her advice to heart.

As they left the tavern behind, the sky above them transformed from a mesmerizing golden hue to a breathtaking reddish-orange, and a chilling wind whipped through the deserted alleyway. With empty pockets but hearts full of hope, Lansius and Stefi continued to stride forward, neither knowing what the future would hold for them.

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