Chapter 185: Dark Arts

Chapter 185: Dark Arts

Dark Arts

Sagarius

The sun dipped low in the western horizon, its brilliant rays obscured by the rows of trees from the ancient woods. Yet, the cloudy skies still displayed a tapestry of red and golden hues. Beneath the Elandian sky lay an open encampment situated next to a burgeoning town at the crossroads. There, Sagarius resided in a simple tent, unbothered by the lack of luxuries. Unknown to anyone, she had cast a spell to block out sound—not to thwart eavesdroppers but to mute the ambient noise.

It was one of her most useful spells, as it allowed one to sleep quietly even in the middle of a deafening thunderstorm or when the summer crickets' incessant chirping was in full swing. And it was certainly useful to preserve privacy.

"Pardon my intrusion," Sir Bald Eagle announced from outside before slipping into the tent, his hands carefully balancing two bowls. He offered one to Sagarius with a proud smile, declaring, "I have convinced the villagers to cook us some fine stew."

"Most pleasing," Sagarius accepted the bowl with polite gratitude.

He took his place on the thick carpet, directly across from her.

Midway through their meal, the old commander's voice broke the silence. "So what are you going to do now?"

Sagarius understood the intonation and didn't immediately answer. "Let me be frank with you," she finally said. "I no longer have a purpose. Not since I gathered increasing evidence that House Bengrieve is likely in cohort against the Imperium."

Sir Bald Eagle nodded, giving her time to reflect and collect her thoughts.

Sagarius continued, "Right now, I can only try to help you integrate with the local noble of your choice."

"Integrate," Bald Eagle repeated, tasting the word. "With ambitious warlords in disguise around us, I don’t even want to think about it."

Unexpectedly, Sagarius extended her hand, grasping the old man's coarse yet warm hand. "You don't have to. You could have a farm and build a family."

"Maybe I can. I have enough coins and clout to do that. But for how long? A month, a year?" he asked gently, with a fatherly tone. "Eventually, the war will touch everything I hold dear. I fear that we're in the eye of the storm yet to pass."

Sagarius didn't argue but sipped her warm, hearty stew. She knew a succession crisis in an empire as old and vast as the Third Imperium would be disastrous. The thought almost made her reconsider her stance. However, she persisted, knowing it would only delay the inevitable.

"To integrate will only lead to us and your followers being split apart to avoid a coup, then being utilized as frontliners. With four hundred veterans, we pose a real threat to most local lords," Bald Eagle continued, his voice calm and free from pressure.

Sagarius nodded thoughtfully and asked, "Then what do you propose we do?"

Bald Eagle offered a wry smile. "I must admit, I'm ill-equipped to handle the fall of the known Imperium," he quipped.

Sagarius returned a faint smile.

"Anyone who claims they know what they're doing right now is a dangerous liar. A succession crisis of this magnitude, with the throne and palace reduced to ashes—it's simply unbelievable," he said, exhaling deeply.

Setting down her half-eaten stew, Sagarius paused to gather her thoughts before meeting the old man's gaze. "It seems we lack a clear path forward. I believe the military strategy dictates that if you can't advance, you must either defend or prepare to flee."

"That is correct, My Lady," Bald Eagle affirmed. "We have only two options: defend or flee."

"And what does each option entail?"

"To flee is to continue our journey," Bald Eagle replied smoothly. His tone then shifted to one of caution, "To defend means to secure a strategic location and fortify it."

Sagarius took a soft breath and asked directly, "Do you really want to crown a daughter of a hat maker?"

Amused by her candor, he replied, "Under normal circumstances, no, I wouldn't dare. But these are not normal times."

"Do not entertain such thoughts," she warned. "I have read about a new style of government. Perhaps it is time to explore such options."

"They're a bit too radical for me, but I have nothing to lose."

"And what if I simply choose to flee?" she ventured.

"Then, we will gladly follow," Bald Eagle affirmed.

"I don't believe you spoke for everyone," Sagarius voiced her doubt. "I can only hope they'll find a just noble to serve and continue their lives."

"The men who followed you have lost more than everything. They're... adrift," Sir Bald Eagle struggled to find the right words. "After their miraculous recovery and victory, they found no other purpose but to follow you. I believe, in doing so, they discovered a reason to live or at least a debt to repay."

"That is unwise," Sagarius chided. "They received a second chance and chose to squander it by following a nobody."

"Did they really?" the knight commander countered rhetorically.

Sagarius took her waterskin, poured water into a wooden cup, and offered it to the old man, who accepted it graciously. After he finished it, she ventured, "If I choose to defend, can we survive?"

"It depends on where and how," he replied.

"Explain," Sagarius prompted, almost instructively.

"A defensible position requires walls, good farmland, a river, and nearby population centers."

"It's unlikely such a place doesn’t already have a master," she observed.

"You'd be surprised, My Lady. Do you know why most towns and villages along our path welcomed us, despite us being strangers without a banner?"

She shook her head.



"Well, to tell you the truth, I don't feel safe around here," she explained without hesitation.

The answer surprised the knight. "But you're surrounded by men at arms."

"Perhaps, but it can't hurt to keep my guard up," she replied softly, careful not to wound anyone's pride.

"Are you from around here, My Lady?" Sir Munius asked.

"Well, I've been in this area multiple times, a long time ago."

"I see, then what do you fear in this part of Elandia?"

"Not here," she replied, "more toward the east; the ancient forest." She paused in her tracks and turned to him. "Can I trust you with something?"

"I am a keeper of secrets," Sir Munius stated.

She nodded and said, "The knight commander spoke of bandits that lurked in the area and how our presence here had deterred them. But I think that's not the real reason. I believe the reason there are no more bandits around is that something else is preying on them."

"A fell beast?" the knight asked in a low voice, redoubling his efforts to scan their surroundings.

"I heard about the Nicopola refugee and mercenary war last season against House Bengrieve. The more I heard, the more I was certain that there would be many unburied carcasses from it. I doubt the fell creatures from the Ancient Forest would remain idle. They would multiply, and with the Imperium in this state, I doubt the Hunter Guild has an answer for them."

***

Lansius

The sun hung high, yet the sky darkened with the promise of rain, the wind carrying the earthy scent of an impending storm. Lansius stood by the window of the Eastern Mansion, his gaze sweeping over the vast stretch of land that belonged to his House. From a modern man’s perspective, the expanse was staggering—a city, a forest, plains, dozens of villages—immense even before considering his additional holdings in South Hill.

Despite actively governing them, he often marveled at the sheer scale of his domain, pondering just how many thousands of acres he had under his own name. A soft exhale escaped him as he reminded himself that the vast land was there as a foundation to secure peace and prosperity.

His eyes still peeled in the distance when thunder flashed brightly, striking somewhere beyond the wall, confirming the approach of rain.

Lansius turned from the window and slightly closed the curtain, not wanting the flashes of lightning to disturb the people working inside the hall on the second floor. Even on rainy days, when fields and roads turned to mud, there was still much to be done.

Last week, they had just finished a new chapter of The Iliad, depicting the early stages of the Trojan War. Surprisingly, from what he had gathered from those who listened to the herald outside the city library, his readers viewed the idea of launching an armed expedition to punish a wife-stealer as a noble act. Unlike modern audiences who see an enduring love story between Paris and Helen, his readers perceived it clearly as a cautionary tale of wife-stealing, a viewpoint Lansius could understand.

Even when Lansius explained to his senior scribes that Helen's husband was a cruel king, they simply responded, "All kings are cruel to a point. But that doesn't justify her eloping to another kingdom. That’s a sure path to war, causing suffering in both kingdoms. Helen could have requested to return to her father. Eventually, the king, like any other, would grow bored and seek another. Women in power have used many strategies to retain their husbands' attention. And I doubt someone who wouldn't even make an effort would last long in a king’s court, especially a cruel one. Such a king would be unlikely to remain faithful, no matter how beautiful Helen was."

Lansius found their perspective intriguing, yet it made a great deal of sense.

He had to admit that the story might resonate more with them than with a modern audience. Ending his musing, he gazed at the army of scribes and clerks who had been the backbone of his administration. They handled policies, tax collection, army wages, military expenditures, city expenses, guild dealings, and a myriad of other tasks. They were the ones he relied upon.

Last week they did Troy; this week, Korelia.

They worked here in the name of efficiency. Working in close proximity, they could ask Lansius directly about any issues they encountered, rather than formally presenting them at court, which would take too much time. Lansius found the traditional process rigid, plagued by formalities, and highly inefficient. By having them work here, they achieved an astounding level of progress.

The Lowlandia Office of Works, acronymed LOW.

Lansius couldn't help but ponder whether the Midlandia Office of Works would be acronymed "TOW," which reminded him of an anti-tank guided missile. The silly thought made him smile, and like clockwork—yet to be invented here—he felt someone watching.

He turned to a particular soft cushioned seat across the chamber and found a beautiful pair of hazelnut eyes watching him. Like a hunter to its prey, Audrey had caught him smiling, and now her lips formed a smirk that could drive him crazy.

Mmm, temptations... Hold on the Paris in me. Don't be swayed by this sword-buckling, horse-riding, knight-baroness of Lowlandia, Centurian-born Helen.

Lansius turned back to face the window again, his amused smile hidden from her compelling gaze.

He could afford a moment of idleness after outlining his latest plan. Now, he simply needed to wait for its finalization, calculation, and evaluation.

One aspect of his plan involved the production of flares and smoke signals. Having observed their effectiveness in training, he realized their demand would only grow. Unable to rely solely on Calub for their production, Lansius decided it was time to fulfill his promise and establish a proper laboratory—or, in this world, an alchemy workshop.

Having enticed the guilds with southern trade, he aimed to leverage this advantage. He instructed the Lowlandia Office of Works (LOW) to propose to the alchemist guild that they establish an alchemy shop in Korelia. Before negotiating the price, LOW would broach the subject that if the barony bore all costs, then the alchemy workshop must pledge complete allegiance to House Lansius, ensuring all trade secrets became rightfully his.

Lansius expected that his proposal and the stipulation for trade secrets would spark their interest, likely leading to a counteroffer. This was exactly what he wanted. While he preferred to train local talents he could trust, training an alchemist was a lengthy and risky endeavor. The last thing he wanted was for his personnel, who depended on these signals, to face failure in critical moments—a potential disaster.

Hence, a solution was necessary because talents were not merely tools.

If the guilds did not cooperate, the arrangement could become problematic, likely requiring the alchemists, likely from Midlandia, to move permanently to Korelia to safeguard the secrets. Such an arrangement was not only inhumane but could also backfire by attracting only less qualified individuals.

"Non-competing clause," he muttered to himself, watching a lightning fork in the distance.

Although understanding its utility and necessity, Lansius was not fond of it. Moreover, it contradicted his views on industrial secrets: keeping them too tightly guarded often led to theft, as the stories of tea and silk had shown.

Thus, he preferred cooperation, aiming to retain control and secure his margins. He hoped the guild would see the profit potential as distributors and be sufficiently interested in gaining access to either partial or full secrets, along with the capabilities to produce what Korelia manufactured after about twenty or thirty years.

Whatever the deal, the alchemy workshop would prove essential for continuing experiments with volatile oils. If Calub could delegate the production of flares, fire grenades, alcohol, fertilizer, and his famously potent poppy milk medicine to the new alchemists, he would then be free to pursue other projects.

For a long time, Lansius had intended to ask Calub, strictly for research purposes, to begin his studies in what he deemed the dark arts of his world. This meant delving into the study of guano, charcoal, and sulfur, or in simpler terms: explosives.

***