Chapter 32

Chapter 32

They’re coming!” Audrey pulled the reins of her mount and came to a stop.

Before her stood Lansius, the leader of their ragtag army. Though many dismissed him as a no-name exiled noble from a distant kingdom, Audrey trusted him enough to join his seemingly suicidal offensive.

“Listen up! Everyone waits until we’re within crossbow range, then we pull back to the trenches,” Lansius ordered.

His command did little to ease the fear in his men, but Lansius paid no heed. He looked at Audrey and spoke. “Lead the cavalry and make the breakthrough as planned.”

Audrey stared at him with a cold, piercing gaze that could easily frighten children and adults alike.

“I’ll be fine. Go, move as planned,” Lansius answered, almost cheerfully. He knew Audrey well enough to understand the meaning behind her stare.

“Good luck then,” she replied.

“You too. Let’s get some drinks after this is over,” he said, despite the overwhelming odds.

Audrey went to her cavalrymen and rallied them. Soon, fifty riders moved out against the opponent’s right wing.

At least she’s with the cavalry, Lansius thought while suppressing a sigh of relief. He knew that if the worst happened, Audrey would have a good chance of escaping. Two seasons had passed since their fateful reunion at Toruna Manor, yet here they were, facing yet another armed conflict. Lansius felt a sense of despair in their new lives as henchmen.

Lord Arte, who was busy gathering followers and currying support from Midlandia’s nobility, had given his approval for Lord Bengrieve to employ Lansius. Now, Lansius had assumed a fake identity as an exiled knight from the Mercantile Kingdom. If he were found out, he would surely lose his head.

While Lansius was lamenting his situation, fear continued to haunt his troops’ rank and file. Even with their cavalry riding out in strength, they were hardly convinced.

The Midlandians had enlisted for what they believed would be a simple raiding party, not a pitched battle. They saw Lansius as an exiled noble from a foreign kingdom, with no reputation or standing to claim a fiefdom, and so no one had expected him to start an open war.

Yet here they were, facing off against the Lion of Lowlandia, the biggest name in the region. The sight of the viscount’s banners, fluttering boldly in the wind, sent chills down their spines.

Many muttered curses under their breath, their eyes darting nervously between the enemy’s imposing formation and their own ragtag troop. The thought of fleeing to save themselves constantly crossed their minds.

Although Lansius had treated them well, nobody wished to die for someone else’s cause. Many felt betrayed, like sacrificial pawns led to a butcher’s shop. The thought made their stomachs churn.

The only thing that stopped them from killing the black-haired bastard and breaking formation was desperation.

It was clear to all that their situation was beyond hopeless, with flat grassland stretching in all directions for miles, leaving nowhere to hide. Whoever fled would be easily chased and slaughtered, or captured as slaves.

Their fear drove them to quietly follow Lansius, who had yet to show signs of panicking.

Unbeknownst to his men, Lansius himself was inches away from a nervous breakdown.

Am I really doing this?

Watching the lines of men in formation moving toward him made him second guess. However, Lansius had bet everything on his reckless plan. He had spent his money on recruiting more men, horses, and equipment, risked the trust of his benefactors, and even jeopardized the love of his life, who stubbornly wanted to participate in this madness.

Lord Bengrieve and Sir Stan’s initial plan was simple: Lansius was to create a diversion, allowing Midlandia to freely siege another barony to secure their back line.

The root cause of this conflict was a bitter relationship between the prosperous Midlandia and the poor lords of Lowlandia, who secretly supported raiding activities on their vast border. Now, with Midlandia poised to fight a major war against the unified northern people, they needed to secure their weakest border.

To ensure victory, Midlandia was willing to sacrifice hundreds of men to prevent the Old Lion from learning and sending a relief force to their besieged neighbor. However, despite their apparent hostility, Lord Bengrieve still wished to maintain good relations with the powerful viscount.

Thus, Lansius, the foreigner, was the perfect candidate. Even if he and his command were caught, there would be little evidence that could be traced back to Midlandia’s court.

Externally, Lansius went along with this plan. It was a simple plan. His job was to take this cheaply recruited company as a decoy for as long as possible, before their eventual capture and demise. Lansius was to escape with the cavalry and abandon the rest to their fate.

However, he couldn’t bring himself to sacrifice the men. The troops under him might be nothing but the unfortunates, the lowlifes, and the rowdiest scumbags in all of Midlandia, yet they were still his men.

But mercy wasn’t the main reason why Lansius had reneged on the plan. For he had seen a sliver of hope. And ever since learning of the possibility, he had been torn between risking everything for a chance to win big, or playing it safe by sticking to Lord Bengrieve’s plan.

Only now, as he faced the enemy, did Lansius begin to feel truly at peace with his decision.

If you lot are destined to die, then let’s test our fates against the heavens.

Since Lord Bengrieve had already written off the fate of Lansius’s troops, this gamble presented no extra risk or cost to him. For Lansius, however, securing a victory would mean tremendous merit. It would be a lie to claim he wasn’t motivated by personal gain. His daring decision was also driven by the desire to bring maximum reward to his master, quickly proving his own worth.

“Sir Justin, Hugo,” Calub addressed them.

Hugo bowed his head to Calub. Fate had played a cruel joke on him by reuniting him with Lansius as a subordinate. They had buried the hatchet and now Hugo tried to win Lansius’s trust, but he ended up in this suicidal plan. He lamented his luck, and like the rest, desperately wanted Lansius’s plan to work.

Sir Justin nodded at Calub before turning to his squire, Hugo. “Protect us,” he commanded.

Hugo dutifully placed himself between them and the enemy and raised his shield.

Lansius saw the knight’s gaze shift to him. “Commander, last chance,” Sir Justin said, giving Lansius the option to retreat or prepare for battle.

Lansius, drenched in cold sweat, summoned his courage and responded, “I think I’ll risk it. Sir, can I count on you?”

The older gentlemen nodded. “I’ll give it my best.”

“Gratitude, sir.” Lansius bowed his head slightly.

“Don’t feel too indebted. If things go awry, I only need to discard half my armor to run. My horses are fast, and my men are strong enough to escort me out.”

The honesty of the former knight, now mercenary, elicited a chuckle from Lansius. “Sir, please call me by name. I’m hardly your superior.”

Sir Justin grinned. “I’m pretty sure they made you the commander.”

“Men will follow someone they respect,” Lansius remarked.

The knight seemed happy, and he turned his gaze toward the advancing enemy. “Lord Robert has good troops.”

“Indeed. Meanwhile ours . . .” Lansius couldn’t resist comparing.

The poor and unfortunate, also the scum of every town and village. They are every bit unfit as soldiers. More like a bunch of bandits . . .

The knight snorted. “What we got might be not as good or well equipped, but at least they’ll follow orders.”

“That’s true . . .” Lansius admitted as he watched their last group of men descend into the trenches with a mixture of gratitude and guilt.

Surely, following me was a big leap of faith for them, especially when I employed such an unknown strategy that involves digging a series of ditches in the middle of nowhere like here.

“I better go,” Calub suddenly announced.

“Calub,” Lansius called out. “Next time, remind me to double-check our opponent’s strength.”

Calub let out a deep breath. “If we make it out of this alive.” Then he turned to the knight. “Sir, may I ask, why did you agree with this plan? You must have known that Lord Robert is a good warlord.”

The knight chuckled. “I’ve always wanted to see the Lion in the field.”

Calub let out a sigh. “Lans, I hope your plan works.”

“If it doesn’t work . . . see you in the afterlife?” Lansius joked, finally pushing past his fear limit.

Calub chuckled and made his way toward the trenches. He was needed on the far right where the fighting was likely to be the fiercest.

“We need to move,” Hugo interrupted urgently. Just then, the sound of an arrow slicing through the air reached their ears.

“Right, right . . .” Lansius took a final glance at the enemy formation before quickly making his way to the ladder.

Sir Justin and Hugo followed suit, with a few crossbow bolts whizzing above their heads as they descended. Finally, at the bottom, the smell of earth and humidity greeted them.

One of the aides handed Lansius his crossbow, and he proceeded to check how the string felt. The dampness in the trenches could affect the string, but he felt that the tension was all right. Next, he checked the bolts in, two quivers on his belt, each with twelve bolts.

Sir Justin secured his poleaxe while Hugo fetched his bascinet helmet and assisted him in fastening it firmly.

Lansius finished up by wearing a sallet helmet. Its layers of linen padding felt comfortable. It wasn’t a full-face but had a retractable visor. Now, after a lot of doubting and second-guessing everything about his own decision, he finally felt a sense of clarity. With everything in place, he knew it was time to face whatever lay ahead.