Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Last year, unwilling to wait for the Imperium’s response, Lord Maurice mustered his forces and marched them to Ceresia on the eve of winter. There, he waited and launched a daring winter attack, which took Karius’s men by surprise and turned the tides of war.

Lord Karius was swiftly dislodged from Riverstead and forced to flee, with Lord Maurice’s men hot on their heels. However, even with the arrival of spring, the tensions remained unresolved. Lord Karius stubbornly resisted all offers of truce, seemingly engaging in negotiations merely to buy time.

Lord Maurice, out of an abundance of caution, secured a fortress to guard against any potential reinforcements. Despite his precaution, nobody suspected that an alliance had formed between Lord Karius and Margrave Gottfried.

The formidable margrave, ruler of four northern Brigandia provinces, had previously clashed with Karius, making their sudden alliance a surprise. The specifics of their agreement were unclear, yet one thing was certain: Karius had set a trap for Maurice.

Karius had successfully lured Maurice out of Riverstead, giving Gottfried and his formidable army the opportunity to cross the Great River and launch a devastating attack on the city. The situation rapidly escalated into a crisis for Maurice and his men, whose escape route was effectively cut off.

A speck of light glowed on the far horizon and the once dark sky slowly turned into bronze-yellow. The wind blew fiercely, as if hailing the birth of a new day.

Lansius felt someone pushed his shoulder. “Erm?”

“The sun is almost out,” Theo, who slept next to Lansius, said weakly.

“A moment.” Lansius fought the sleepiness off his head. His body felt stiff while his eyes were painful to open. He saw the underside of the cart and reminded himself not to get up like normal or risk smacking his head. He rolled his body to the right instead and immediately felt the cold sensation from the dew-covered grass.

He stood up and shivered. It was his second night, but nothing had improved. They carried no tent and slept underneath their carts as cover. It was better than sleeping out in the open, but cramped, smelly, and still cold.

Lansius lazily folded a sheet of canvas that he had used as a blanket. Theo appeared from beneath the cart. He looked equally miserable. The long and bumpy ride had taken a toll on all their bodies.

The horses, for certain, had it worse. They were moodier than ever and easily agitated by everything. Lansius, who had some experience with horses, took them to the patches of high grass and tied them to a tree as a precaution.

Lansius watched as Theo and Max headed to get water from a nearby creek. A strong breeze blew past, and he shivered again despite his gambeson. He took in the scents of the forest and pondered his decision to follow Thomas.

Despite the situation, Lansius couldn’t shake off the lingering doubts and guilt about leaving Stefi and Riverstead. His rational mind, familiar with the horrors of a medieval town under siege, argued that escape had been the right choice. Yet, his heart disagreed, plaguing him with emotional torment.

Regardless of his internal conflict, Lansius recognized that his choices had led him here. Any chance he’d had for a life in a lord’s retinue had probably vanished along with the likely defeat of their lord and the siege of Riverstead.

“Morning,” someone said from behind.

Lansius turned to face Thomas. “Good to see you in high spirits, chief.”

“Heh, you’d be just as spirited if you learned about this,” Thomas teased.

“Learn what?”

“The scout said it’s only half a day’s journey till we reach the river,” the older man explained.

“We’re that close to Ceresia?” Lansius’s mood indeed lifted a bit.

“Yep, with luck, we could be there before sundown.”

“Chief, I hope you’ll find a better place than that barn,” Lansius jested.

Thomas laughed and slapped Lansius’s back. “Hey, it’s not that bad. It’s spacious, and the roof is solid.”

The morning went without a hitch, and the convoy departed in high spirits. As they kept riding west, the trees began to look different, taller, with fewer branches. The horses had to slow their pace as they traveled at a higher incline. Some carts even had their men get off and walk to ease their horses as they went uphill.

The cart Thomas commandeered wasn’t heavy enough that anybody needed to dismount. It was a slow ride; the sky was cloudy and breezy. Max found the weather so irresistible that he dozed on and off. Meanwhile, Theo stayed on the lookout. The lad was dependable despite being only a year older than Max.

Compared to them, Lansius looked fragile. Unlike Max, who could sleep in an awkward position with his head unsupported and both hands gripping crates to keep himself from falling, Lansius couldn’t make himself comfortable enough to fall asleep.

Unintentionally, he counted five carts and two carriages that made up the convoy. It was less than half of when they began. Too disheartened by war-torn Arvena, many had gone south into Midlandia, whose lord was on good terms with Lord Maurice.

The convoy Lansius was in traveled the same path he had taken last winter. Nobody questioned the decision. For them, it was only natural to return to the heartland. Like many, he was eager to return home and couldn’t care less about the reason.

Since yesterday, Lansius had been dreaming of finally arriving in Bellandia and seeing his family. That thought kept him going despite the situation. Even the awful taste of the hard biscuits, which he had to soften with water just to make them edible, did little to dampen his spirits once he reminded himself that he could taste Mother Arryn’s cooking in a few weeks.

He couldn’t wait to play with Tanya and trade stories with Marc. On the surface, he felt happy, but the guilt of leaving Stefi behind was eating at him from the inside.

Lansius kept to himself more than usual. He didn’t ask about Theo’s or Max’s background, nor did he inquire about the figure who sat next to Thomas. It was only because of their close vicinity that he overheard the boys describing her as a guard for hire, Miranda.

Miranda wasn’t much of a talker, but had once mentioned how her only son bore a resemblance to Theo. She did little but maintain her prized crossbow every night, despite no apparent usage.

The cart slowed to a stop. Everybody but Max looked around to find the reason, but Thomas glanced back and shushed them with his finger. “Listen.”

There were faint sounds of water moving rapidly.

“The river,” exclaimed Theo.

The convoy needed to wait before they could cross the narrow bridge. The old wooden structure often had its support beams weakened by the strong current, and they needed to check it for safety.

The rest of the convoy dismounted as they waited. Most went to the river to sightsee, fill their canteen, or wash their face.

Lansius and Theo saw Miranda dismount, and they decided to follow. Thomas tied the horse to a tree and jogged after them, leaving Max sleeping alone in the cart. Lansius felt rejuvenated. The water’s edge was picturesque, and the weather was lovely. Many sat on the ground or rested their back on the grass. A good respite from all the rough rides they had these past few days.

“Boss,” Max cried from behind.

The tone made Thomas to jump into action. As he ran to the cart, Lansius and Theo followed. They watched as men from the other carts panicked and scrambled for the wooded area with just their weapons.

“Best of luck then,” Thomas said and left with the trio.

Lansius took one last glance and saw Miranda fastening her ring mail coif. When she noticed, Lansius bowed his head in respect. That simple gesture made her smile.

Thomas led the trio to crouch between the vegetation and tall trees, hopping between slopes and taking cover behind irregular mounds. The sound of cracking branches and horses’ heavy hooves alerted them.

The sound was getting closer. Thomas hid his head between shrubs while the other wouldn’t risk getting seen. They waited in fear before a horseman in orange and black surcoat came into view. He was wearing a skull-cap helmet and ring mail, while his horse was without armor.

The horseman wound his way through the trees, clearly searching for anyone who might be hiding.

“Come out, you little dirty rabbits.” The voice had come from another direction.

“Evnas, keep your mouth shut,” came a distant response.

The banter between still unseen individuals made the orange and black horseman chuckle.

Thomas pulled back from his lookout spot and whispered, “I need to draw him away. Remember to keep walking with the river to your right. Find a shallow place and cross, but avoid Ceresia. The enemy will be there.”

And then, without warning, Thomas climbed out of hiding and ran in the opposite direction.

“Halt!” the horseman cried as he spotted Thomas. “I found one,” he declared to his comrades, and clenched his legs to signal the horse to speed up.

“Evnas, go assist him!” commanded the other person. But before the second rider could come, the rider in orange and black had given chase.

Meanwhile, Theo froze, but Max, who understood the situation, dragged his friend from the spot. Lansius followed without a word.

Thomas zigzagged between the trees as he ran, but the horseman kept his cool and trailed him from a distance. He couldn’t run and hide forever. Out of breath, he slowed down. Before he stopped, instinct guided him to stand in the open instead of hiding behind the trees.

The horseman closed in with a drawn sword. The sound of hooves pounding the ground echoed through the air as he charged, intending to kill.

Thomas stood on his ground, his axe ready in his right hand. But the rider’s approach left no gap, forcing Thomas to dodge roll at the last moment into the trees.

The horseman overshot his approach, trotted his horse around, and prepared for another pass. He could afford to play this cat-and-mouse game patiently.

One more pass and then another. The horseman kept harassing his prey to provoke them into making a mistake.

Out of breath and out of tricks, Thomas’s attempt to bait the rider into a duel on foot had failed. Now, he risked meeting up with the footmen, or worse, the second horseman.

The horseman seemed to enjoy this and started another approach when a sharp, distinct sound echoed. It wasn’t loud, but the rider staggered, dropped his sword, and moved about erratically. A bolt had penetrated his ring mail through the doublet and ruptured his lung. The rider soon suffocated as his lung became filled with blood.

Thomas dragged his tired legs, then attempted to deliver the killing blow, but before he could, someone rushed in from another direction and speared the rider.

The rider cried out in pain, but was unable to retaliate. His flailing causing his horse to panic. He fell backward, hitting the ground hard as the horse galloped away. The fallen man, decked in the orange and black surcoat lay motionless, either from the fall or his fatal wound.

“Ronan,” Thomas called.

“Thomas, who shot the bolt?” Ronan asked as he pulled his spear from the dead body.

“It’s Miranda. Where are the other guys?”

“Dead, tch—they even killed Ulrich . . .” Ronan’s voice was full of anger and sadness.

“The lad? But he’s no older than fourteen . . .” Thomas felt sickened.

“There’s no reason to kill him . . . Unless they think we’re hiding the young Lord.” He grew frustrated. “Nothing good will come from this. Better run while you still can,” he warned and walked away.

“Where you’re going?”

“Swim.”

“And lose all your gear?” Thomas asked.

Ronan turned to face him and opened his arms to signal, what else can I do?

Thomas reflected, but chose not to follow. Probably because he had no kids of his own, he wanted to save Theo and the rest.

Footsteps on his right surprised Thomas. He readied his axe, but saw Miranda and felt relieved. “Good shot.”

Miranda pulled Thomas behind a tree and forced him to crouch. “Don’t do that again!”

Thomas grinned. “Hey, let’s bait another one.”

“Are you an idiot? You’ll be dead if I can’t find a clear line of sight.” Not wanting to hear his response, she added, “The footmen are closing in. Let’s get out from here.”

Thomas seemed to remember something. He took two rings from his pouch and threw them one by one to Miranda. “Catch.”

“What are you doing?” She couldn’t believe the Thomas she knew had turned suicidal.

“One more. For the boys,” he said and went searching for the second horseman.