Chapter 140: Darkening Skies

Chapter 140: Darkening Skies

Darkening Skies

Under a sky speckled with shimmering stars, Lansius and twenty of his men, four clad in full plate armor, hastened toward the source of the commotion echoing through the camp. Their torches flickered wildly, casting long, dancing shadows on the ground as they moved.

As they approached, they saw chaos—men running around with swords. At the heart of the conflict, tens of men were locked in a fierce standoff against a smaller group backed into a corner beside a tent.

The fabric of the tent was now ablaze, sending up plumes of smoke and orange flames into the dark sky. The crackle of the fire mingled with the clash of iron and shouts of anger. In the dim light, it was hard to discern faces; figures moved like specters in and out of the shadows.

Roused by the noise, more and more camp members emerged from their tents, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Upon seeing Lord Lansius and his heavily armored guards, and even without fully understanding the issue, they quickly threw themselves into the ranks, significantly bolstering the numbers.

The impact of the Lord personally leading should not be underestimated. The Lord's presence alone dispelled any confusion about which side the armed group was rallying for, and as the men confidently followed Lansius’ lead, their numbers had doubled to forty by the time he reached the site.

Facing the area of commotion, his captain shouted at the top of his lungs, "Stop this madness! The Lord of Korelia is here!"

Battle cries from his side lent credence to the claim. From the side, seven riders approached; they turned out to be the night watch under Sterling. "My Lord, a group attacked Servius' tent. We tried to intervene but were repelled. We're bringing more horsemen—"

"Not enough time. Go, secure the horses. Don’t let the Nicopolans ride away. The main danger lies not here but within the main army," Lansius instructed Sterling. Hoping he could still control the situation if he acted quickly and decisively, he took steps forward, leading the men. "Form a line!"

"Form a line!" a present captain echoed, organizing the men who readied their arms as they fell into formation.

Lansius raised his sword and pointed toward the tens of men in the distance trying to form a defense. "Advance, quick steps!" he shouted.

"Quick steps!" his captain echoed, and forty men rushed, swords drawn.

They were twenty paces away when Audrey's distinct voice warned them from afar, "Shields!" There was urgency and fright in her tone.

Lansius and some of his men, who carried shields, immediately drew them to cover themselves. The background noises of the fighting had masked the distinct sound of crossbow strings snapping forward. Bolts sliced through the air, their deadly hiss heralding the lethal projectiles shrouded in darkness.

In the blink of an eye, the air around Lansius filled with the cacophony of terror as bolts thudded into shields, gambesons, or unprotected limbs. The impacts were met with gasps and sharp cries of pain, adding to the chaos.

Lansius grunted from pain and took a step forward to balance himself, but stumbled as his right leg gave out and he fell to the rocky ground. He had raised his shield a bit too much to cover his head and chest, but left his right leg exposed.

He heaved heavily, gritting his teeth as hot blood gushed from his right thigh where a bolt had struck deeply. His men, noticing this, formed around him, swarming like panicked bees defending their queen. One held a shield while two more brandished their spears, shouting to gather more to their side.

More came from behind, and they swarmed. "Don't let them know!" he repeated to his men, worrying his injury might discourage his men from attacking. Then, gritting his teeth to hold back the pain, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "Keep advancing!"

Even without his command, the rest of his men were steadfast and had reformed their line. Their steps were steady as they charged upon the traitors' line.

...

Audrey

Half of her wanted to check on Lansius, but she knew the situation was a mess and would be a lost cause if she didn't intervene correctly. Thus, with an authoritative and steady voice, she cut through the turmoil, saying, "Follow me!"

Her command reoriented her Dragoons, channeling their combined wrath into focused action. Dietrich and their trusted riders formed up around her, their movements concealed by the night and mostly guided by the feeble starlight and the glow from the burning tents and torches.

Using her night vision to her advantage, she approached from the rebels' blind side as they fought with Lansius' men-at-arms column. Finally, Audrey's cavalry descended upon the rebels' weak spot, taking them by complete surprise. Dietrich saw first and galloped ahead, scoring the first hit, followed by the rest of the cavalry attacking their ex-comrades-in-arms.

The rebel group was routed, pressured from both the front and the flanks, dispersing into the night.

"Dietrich!" Audrey pointed in a general direction, and the cavalry captain and his riders veered toward that with conviction.

With a few riders as escorts, Audrey blocked the retreat for some rebels, even using her crossbow in the dead of night to stop them from running. After her forces regained control, she quickly rode to Lansius' side. Dismounting with ease, her entourage shouted to the crowd, "The Lady is here, make way!"

She found Lansius groaning, clutching his right thigh as two men applied a tourniquet to lessen the bleeding. "Tighten it," he commanded, despite the pain.

His eyes met hers and he said, "I'm fucked."

Watching the amount of blood Audrey instructed, "Carry him back to the tent and ready the physician."

Six men nearest to them carefully carried the Lord by hand as gently as they could. As he was being carried, Lansius asked, "Have you regained control?"

"I broke their column. They're finished," she said, while looking out for danger.

"Servius?"

"I saw him. His men pulled him out of the tent wreckage. He's not involved, we didn't attack him," she reassured him.

The men with good coordination rushed Lansius into the tent and the physician was quick to follow. Inside, she quickly removed his brigandine, allowing him to breathe easily.

The physician washed his hands, quickly examined the wound, and prepared a concoction. "My lord, please drink this for the pain," he said as he administered a dose of poppy milk. Lansius coughed but managed to swallow it. Afterward, he took a small sip of water.

Audrey then firmly grasped Lansius' hand as the maester checked his freshly boiled tools, now placed on top of a tray beside clean linen. The physician, with bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep, glanced at Audrey. She nodded for him to proceed.

"Wait, wait," Lansius stopped them. "Tell me first, who rebelled and why?"

Audrey didn't know that, fortunately, Sterling was there and explained, "Some hardline Nicopolans tried to convince Servius but failed. They resorted to fighting."

Sweating hard, he vented out, complaining, "They even dare to use crossbows against us? Have we captured them all?"

"Dietrich is still on them," she reassured him.

"Warn Harold," he added.

"I'll send messengers to warn Harold. He'll know what to do." Then she stared at Lansius. "We need to pull it out. Now, are you ready?"

During the fighting, Servius had lost consciousness from a sword blow to the head, which, although not fatal, left him unconscious inside a burning tent. They were forced to amputate his entire right hand because all of his fingers and palm had been badly burned.

The man also had serious burn injuries on his legs and right arm that charred his skin. Only luck allowed him to survive with an intact face, save for a gash on top of his head. Still, many feared he wouldn't make it as the wounds began to fester and infections started to take a toll on his wounded body.

Not all was gloomy. Attracted by his screams, the nomads who had witnessed the surgery gave him a fitting nickname: Iron Skull Servius. The name stuck, even though he wore sturdy coif-like padding that clearly had saved him from the brink of death.

Before dawn, Audrey had visited the man. In his delirium, he wept upon seeing her face. He spoke of his failure to contain his men, his fear of punishment, and begged the Lady not to punish the rest. However, when he heard what had happened to Lord Lansius, Servius turned speechless before he began to curse his nonexistent rebelling comrades, exclaiming, "You doomed us all, you doomed us all!"

With a heavy heart, she left Servius in a worse state than before. The meeting had strained the old condottiere to his breaking point.

This morning, as Audrey returned from her rounds, flanked by her entourage in armor, these heavy thoughts lingered. She approached a guard with an open visor outside her tent and asked, "How's Servius?"

The guard readily reported, "We have heard no word from them, My Lady."

"Meaning, he's still drawing breath," she muttered with a sigh of relief.

"Should I ask?" a younger guard offered.

Audrey shook her head. Then she saw the physician moving from one makeshift field tent to another, with volunteers bringing basins of water, medicine boxes, and tools. "I don't see the assistant," she commented.

"I heard the assistant and the servant fled last night, likely still hiding from fear," the guard regretfully reported.

Audrey couldn't blame them. Instead, she realized that something must be done to restore the camp. Turning to the guard, she instructed, "Send someone to the nomads and find people who can play music and sing."

"I shall go myself," the guard nodded and went his way with another in tow.

Soon, two tribesmen arrived in their fur coats, walking hurriedly with purpose, showing no fear or burden. One brought a sitar, obviously having been briefed by the guard.

"My Noyan's wife," they greeted her without hesitation, despite not knowing the correct way to address a baroness.

Their boldness and readiness to help earned them Audrey's smile. "Gratitude for coming. I need a favor that only you two can provide."

"Name the favor, O My Noyan's wife."

"Play for me a wonderful melody, one that will bring the wandering people home," she described the song she had heard on her journey to Korimor.

The tribesmen exchanged glances and smiled, knowing exactly which song she wanted to hear. Without any preparation, one began to play the sitar at a slow tempo, while the other sang in a style of throat singing that resonated deeply, as if summoning the spirit of the windswept steppes. The haunting yet warm tones reverberated through the camp. The words were indiscernible, but they seemed to evoke stories of distant mountains and endless skies.

The singing caught everyone by surprise; many gathered to listen. The Lowlandians in House Lansius' army had become familiar with it as they had spent training, marches, and travels alongside the nomad allies. More than just entertainment in the vast emptiness of the Great Plains, it also evoked a sense of safety and serenity.

Slowly, the song helped to restore normalcy to the camp, soothing nerves and bringing back sanity from the treacherous night. The kind melodies signaled that the threat was over and peace was restored.

As the wind and echoes from the mountains carried the throat singing farther, more people heard it, and those who had been hiding from fear now slowly returned like lost sheep to their flock.

...

At midday, things were looking promising. Order was restored and cohesion in the camp began to recover from last night's infighting. The remaining Nicopolans openly pledged their support to the Lord and Lady, stating that they had given up on Nicopola for the foreseeable future.

Moreover, while the two hundred Nicopolans from the bulwark had been affected by rumors of infighting, they chose not to take action, confiding to the guards that it wasn’t their fight and they hoped that the Lord would still honor the deal.

As a precaution, Audrey sent Sterling to seal the bulwark, equipping him with crossbows, spare bolts, and supplies to fend off a worsening situation.

However, what worsened wasn’t the situation. Unexpectedly, Lansius failed to awaken from last night’s procedure. Instead, his wound had swollen, causing a high fever. Despite the weary physician and assistant trying their best with several remedies, none showed any results.

Audrey sat by, watching as Lansius turned pale inside their tent. She dutifully changed the wet cloths on his forehead periodically, each soaked in cool water to draw away the fever's heat.

She said little, appearing strong from the outside, but watching him like this pained her greatly. While other noble wives might worry more about their future and their holdings, Audrey cared only about the person lying before her. To her, he was her raison d'être.

She blamed him for his unusual kindness, which had profoundly changed her. Gone was the careless squire, who was driven by suicidal thoughts of vendetta.

And it was more than mere marital love that bound her to him. She knew she would be content even if Lansius chose someone else, happy simply to serve by his side as a squire. His work and ideas had unveiled a vision of a better future, a cause worth living for.

Without him to guide her, she felt like a dulled blade, waiting to rust without a sheath.

"Don't leave me this soon, not like this," she whispered several times into his ear whenever they were alone, yet there was only silence.

She tried to cheer him up, "Hey, I'll spoil you when you wake up. So give me a sign, any sign."

She even resorted to threats, "If you don’t wake up, I’ll line up the rebel survivors from last night and turn them into archery targets." Yet he remained unresponsive.

All the while, Carla watched from the side, having accompanied her Lady throughout the ordeal, providing not just drinks and food but also delivering the latest news. As the sun lowered further in the sky, Carla's concern grew and dared to suggest, "My Lady, you must take rest, lest you fall ill when the Lord recovers."

Audrey didn't react at first, just staring at Lansius and checking the heat of his body and limbs. However, after Carla repeated herself, she glanced at her, saying, "I heard you the first time."

Then, after ensuring Lansius' fever wasn't rising, she rose and headed out. The sunset bathed the mountains in reddened orange. Without her realizing it, the day had turned to sundown. The chill wind was breezing through the camp, and the smell of cooking was in the air.

Guards formed an escort without being asked, and Audrey ventured far from the camp. She wanted to yell her frustrations out but knew it would bring nothing. So, she just stopped at a large boulder and sat, watching the clouds and the sky to unwind.

The cool wind caressed her gently, as if offering pity. She stared at the vast skies, darkening under the setting sun. As she watched, a dark blot appeared on the graying canvas, eerily gliding above the mountains before disappearing behind the clouds.

Others would not have seen the object as darkness descended. Indeed, her escorts had begun to light their lanterns and torches out of failing sunlight. But Audrey caught sight of the dark shape again as it moved past the clouds, its sharp form cutting through them, revealing it was no mere shadow. Then, the object in the distance slowly turned, heading her way.

***