Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Spring of the year 4424 arrived in earnest, and finally, Lansius received the summons he had been waiting for. After a three-day trip on horseback, Lansius and his escorts found themselves in a beautiful castle, grander than anything he had ever seen before. The towers were imposingly tall, the archway grand, and the gates majestic—however, since it was late, he was ushered in speedily and had little time to marvel.

The next day, Lansius was bathed, given a fresh set of clothes, and served a small meal as he waited. He waited for hours until suddenly, guards and servants came. They escorted Lansius through a dizzying array of corridors, stairs, and hidden pathways until a maid opened a great lacquered door that led to a luxurious study chamber.

The maid gestured for silence, while another servant gently shoved Lansius in. The door closed, and Lansius found himself before the renowned Lord Bengrieve, seneschal of Midlandia.

There was little doubt of the identity of the man now sitting calmly in his comfortable-looking padded chair, reading scrolls on his elegant, small circular table, completely unbothered by Lansius’s entry.

The most powerful man in Midlandia . . .

The chamber was occupied by only him and Lansius. Remembering the maid’s gesture, Lansius could only wait anxiously for his host to address him.

He knew his status too well to even try to cough or draw attention. To Lord Bengrieve, he was just a nuisance.

Releasing tension from his weary legs, Lansius took in the tasteful design of the room. Absent were grandiose furniture or gaudy art pieces; instead, a single painting complemented the clean, lily-white plastered wall, and sleek marble floors added to the room’s elegance.

A large glass vase filled with freshly cut flowers lent a pleasant floral scent to the airy chamber, and the most striking feature was the natural light streaming in from the adjacent open garden, connected by a series of large folding windows. However, a towering metallic statue, the size of a giant bear and painted in a deep, glossy blue, stood as an oddity, clashing with the otherwise serene surroundings.

Is this supposed to be artwork?

The silence was punctuated only by the occasional chirping of birds outside, and despite the fully opened window to the garden, there was no chilling spring wind coming in.

He couldn’t shake off the feeling that the temperature was being controlled by a mage. It was strange to think that the high nobles employed these rare, powerful individuals like glorified bodyguards and even portable air conditioners.

To use them like this when they’re needed the most in the fight at the border. Isn’t this decadence?

Lansius wanted to ask Lord Bengrieve many things, such as why he saved Stefi, why he wanted him, and whether he would release them. Unfortunately, he was merely a henchman, and it was not his place to ask.

The fact that Lord Bengrieve didn’t bother to dress up and remained in his black silken robe conveyed the gulf of status between them. Although this realization made Lansius uncomfortable, he knew better than to let his pride get in the way of his duties.

The sight of the recently blooming flower garden gave him some much-needed respite. The garden was highly decorated, complete with its own fish pond, working fountain, and even a mini waterfall.

Pipes and pumps, or is it magic?

“Lansius, why are you here?” the host finally spoke after throwing his last scroll down to the table.

It was not a casual greeting, and Lansius quickly replied, “I’m here to serve you, my lord.”

Lord Bengrieve gazed out into his garden, his eyes seeming lost in thought as the sweet chirping of birds filled the air. After a moment of silence, “Lansius, what is thy desire?”

“My lord, I wish to fulfill your order,” Lansius replied despite the growing tension.

The host turned his head and gazed directly into Lansius. “Lansius,” he repeated slowly, as if savoring the name. “What is thy desire?”

Lord Robert, the Lion of Lowlandia, once again took to the field. A ragtag troop flying an unknown banner had raided his land. Despite his advanced age, his eyesight hadn’t failed him. He calmly surveyed the opponent’s formation arrayed across the open plains.

“Our right wing and left wing are ready, my lord,” Michael reported as he gently reined in his horse. The excitement in the youngster’s voice was evident as it was his first battle as the marshal.

The viscount didn’t share his enthusiasm and remained silent. No bite, Robert observed. He had moved both of his wings as bait, but the opponent’s formation remained unchanged.

Robert’s passiveness unintentionally caused unease among his men.

“My lord?” the marshal asked again after a while.

“I heard you the first time, Michael,” Robert said to the marshal who was also his future son-in-law.

“Our men are eager to fight. Would you give us the order?” Michael feared the opponent might try to flee.

Robert weighed his decision. Unlike Michael, who was in his prime, Robert was full of wrinkles and grayed hair. However, he had what the younger man lacked: experience. Michael was like a set of armor that had never seen battle, pristine and without a scratch. Robert, on the other hand, had fought in over twenty battles.

“Michael, retreating doesn’t necessarily mean an army is weak,” Robert warned.

“But that’s all they’ve done since invading our lands, my lord,” Michael replied.

Robert’s warning fell on deaf ears, but he acknowledged that Michael wasn’t completely wrong. Ever since Robert had assembled his troops and given chase, the invaders hadn’t attempted to fight. Instead, they simply ran from every engagement. This behavior puzzled Robert and made him timid, while Michael saw it as weakness, which made him grow bolder.

“What do the scout reports say?” Robert asked.

“My lord,” Michael said proudly at his preparation, “I’ve sent riders in three directions. They reported no sightings, only empty plains.”

Robert took a deep breath. It was against his guts, but he felt that his men needed the confidence of a war leader, not a superstitious old man. “Very well, since the enemy isn’t taking our bait, marshal, you may lead the center column. Keep the two cavalries to guard your flanks. And I’ll hold the reserve with a hundred cavalry.”

The trumpets and bugles rang out, signaling the march. Banners unfurled at the front of the formation, fluttering in the wind. The captains rallied their troops, and one thousand soldiers advanced in polished armor and helmets that glistened under the sunlight.

Robert watched as the column marched past him, his highly decorated armor and fierce-looking warhorse adding to his lordly presence and inspiring his men. Yet, the armor was just for show. In reality, he was too frail to fight.

Before the sun rose higher, the center column had successfully rejoined with its two wings, which had earlier tried unsuccessfully to provoke the opponent.

In total, there were approximately one thousand men, bolstered by two hundred cavalry, thrown against an opponent with no more than four hundred.

Despite the three-to-one advantage, Robert felt uneasy. He wondered why the enemy had chosen to fight that day. After pondering for a while, he concluded that something unexpected must have happened, forcing the opponent to engage. “I suppose I overestimated our enemy,” he mused.

“You’re being cautious, my lord,” a senior knight beside him responded.

“Let’s follow our center.” Robert spurred his horse, and his entourage of knights, squires, and servants followed closely behind.