Fire in the Sky
May 1st, 999 A.S.
Castle Caelin, Lycian League, Elibe
Kent waited on his horse apprehensively, his hands tightening over the reins as he nervously swallowed. The familiar weight of a silver sword was at his hip, though he no longer carried a lance on the side of his horse's saddle; behind him stood thirty of Caelin's last knights, their faces grim as the stared straight ahead. Dame Fiora, astride her beautiful pegasus, sat beside her husband, a silver lance in her hand. All of the Caelin knights knew that there was no retreat, that they would all die to a man. However, as knights, they had a duty to defend their land and their people from all who would impose their will on them. Keeping the handful of remaining knights within the castle, Steward Kent had led his small retinue of knights out towards the plains north of the River Laus.
A messenger had reported that a large army of knights had been spotted north of Castle Caelin, likely en route to Ostia. Although the messenger had not made a distinction as to the allegiance of the army, Kent decided to field his men nonetheless. Although Fiora easily could have flown over to discern if the army was Lycian or Bern, the steward did not wish to place his wife in any unnecessary danger and test their luck against any archers. They therefore waited for the army at an essential crossroads where the road branched off towards Caelin or continued on the Lycian Highroad.
Kent had lost his ability to do battle long ago when he had taken an arrow to the leg for his liege lady. Though the man had lost most of the use of his leg, he had not taken it personally or had been bitter over the injury; he had been honored to have been wounded in battle in service for Lady Lyndis. All knights knew that there was a good chance they would be gravely injured in their service – yet all swore vows to their lord and took them in stride. In fact, Kent believed his injury was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him – well, with the exception of becoming a knight. Because of his injuries, many of the companions from the Campaign of Fire had visited him, bestowing their wishes on him. Dame Fiora had been one of those companions, journeying all the way from Ilia after word had arrived from her sister; though Kent had been immensely grateful, Fiora had ultimately decided to remain in Caelin to assist the dutiful knight in his daily tasks. The time they spent together had revealed romance had fallen between the two and, in time, they were wed. Although she loved the Caelin knight deeply, she had been worried as to abandoning her sisters; after news came out that Lord Hector would be married to Florina and that Farina was often in Badon alongside Dart, the eldest sister remained in Caelin.
"The army draws closer Kent," Fiora's soft voice carried over to his ears, "what are your orders?"
"We sit and we wait. There isn't much we can do." The Steward of Caelin put a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder, "do not worry. I will make sure you come out of this, Fiora."
"No," the teal haired knight looked sternly over at the knight, "I will not watch another one of my men leave me behind."
The Crimson Shield frowned, "Thomas needs family to come home to."
"All the more reason his father should leave the field…" Fiora let the issue go, however, and resolved herself to make sure that if they field took for the worse, she would take flight with Kent alongside her. "Kent, look."
"An outrider…" The Caelin knight frowned, "I will meet him."
"Nay!" The booming voice from Kent's right nearly caused the man to fall from his horse, "I will go Kent! You remain here with your fair lady and your men."
"Lord Wallace…" Kent shook his head as a small smile escaped – how had he forgotten the former Knight Commander was present, he would never know. "Very well. I am sure you would be more able to defend yourself than I."
"This old bulldog still has a few tricks up his sleeve! I will be back, hopefully without my lance being used!" The giant of a man started off, his heavy armor clanking as he did so. Though many armor knights were slow, their steps shortened by the mass of armor they wore, the same could not be said of Wallace; having been used to the heavy armor for over forty years, the seasoned veteran moved nearly as fast in his armor as he did without it. Within a few minutes, he had made himself down the road and behind a small rise in the land, which made his image lost to the rest of the army.
The minutes ticked by slowly, though they felt like hours to Kent. He had never truly been nervous before, yet he now was. He supposed it was due to the fact that he no longer possessed the skill that he once had; he wasn't afraid for his life but he was afraid of failing in his task to protect Caelin. Out of all the duties he held in the world, protecting Caelin only fell second to protecting his family and Lady Lyndis. It was why he had painfully lifted himself onto his horse and donned his distinctive battle armor once more. He was about to order a man to ride forward before the silver giant that was Wallace poked out from the hill.
"Kent," the man's voice had a habit of travelling across extremely large distances, "it is the Lycian Army!"
The voice carried back towards his men and Kent didn't have to turn around to know that his men were whispering excitedly to one another, armor clinking as they moved their heads. Kent, himself, was very much relieved as he raised a hand into the air. "Caelin knights, double pace to Lord Wallace's position!"
Kent nudged his horse into a canter, much to the horse's delight as it moved for the first time in half a candlemark. Behind him, the Caelin knights marched excitedly forward, nearly at a jogging pace. The small army closed in on Lord Wallace's position before Kent signaled to halt their advance. Standing at attention in the middle of the Lycian Highroad, the CAelin knights watched apprehensively as the dark shape on the horizon took the form of columns and groups. At the front of the army, the flag of the Lycian League became visible as Kent smiled warmly at the sight. Behind the Lycian flag, the flags of all the individual dukedoms were flown and Kent couldn't help but spot out the flag of Caelin; a silver boar's head was backed by the dark blues and blacks that the original Marquis Caelin had so favored. Kent noted with pride that the Caelin flags flew proudly beside the flags of Pherae and Ostia along with the flags of Araphen, Worde, Ryerde, Thria, Kathelet, and Tuscany.
As the army drew closer, Kent was able to squint and spot individual faces; at the head of the army was a shock of red hair and Kent believed it to be Marquis Eliwood. An elderly man strode beside him – which Kent knew would be Marcus – alongside three other men. The red haired man gestured to Marcus, who raised his hand and barked out an order; the army paused its march then as the five men leading the army began to ride out towards the small Caelin force. Gesturing for Wallace and Fiora to move forward with him, the three knights moved forty paces out as the Lycian commanders approached. Kent instantly recognized the faces of Sain and Paris, yet the third…
"Steward Kent!" Kent watched as the red haired man raised his hand in greeting. The veteran knight was shocked to see that it was Roy, son of Eliwood, who was the Lycian commander. "Well met!"
"Well met indeed, Lord Roy," Kent raised a fist to his chest and his nodded his head, "and well met to your companions."
"It has been too long Kent," Marcus nodded before grinning at the steward's two companions, "and you as well Dame Fiora. And you as well Sir Wallace."
"Gwahaha," Wallace laughed loudly, "Marcus, ye old wardog! It is a good thing the veteran knights are to instruct the rookies!"
"Lord Wallace," Sain grinned as he saluted his former general, "it is nice to see you once more!"
"And you as well, Sain! I trust you have done Caelin justice at Araphen?"
"Of course," Paris nodded beside Sain, "Sir Sain was a tremendous warrior at Araphen, one of the brightest stars on the field. Were it not for him, we would have been sorely pressed by Bern and their wyverns. Caelin alone held off the flying beasts."
"Bah," Wallace winked, "don't let it get to his head! They're just a bunch o' flyin' lizards!"
"Steward Kent," Roy looked once more to Kent, interrupting the friendly exchange, "what brings you and your men to the field?"
Kent smiled softly, chuckling softly, "forgive us if you believed us to be of Bern. We of Caelin were merely alerted to the presence of an army. We wished to investigate and, if necessary, deal with said army. Thankfully," he gestured to the five men, "you are all of Lycia."
"You did well Kent," the fifth and final man murmured, "I would have done the exact same thing."
The Crimson Shield blinked, the wrinkles on his face deepening for that short moment. "Forgive me, sir, I do not believe I had the honor of your name."
A deep chuckle came from under the man's hood as he lowered it, "one would think that, after barking at you all, you would recognize my voice. Maybe I should have yelled louder because you seem to have all forgotten about me."
To say Kent was shocked at Mark's appearance would've been an understatement. Yet, within his chest, the knight was not at all surprised; the man had a habit of appearing when his friends were in dire need of direction. "Mark. It is good to see you. Odd in that you are once again helping us."
A smile, "yes, but this time I threw myself in of my own accord, not because two wandering knights had the gall to force me in." A smile, however, told more than his words. "Fiora, Wallace, it is good to see you two as well. It has been too long."
"And you as well, Mark," Fiora smiled, "I feel much more safe knowing you are advising our armies."
Roy placed a hand on Mark, who looked over in surprise. The lordling smiled gratefully at his strategist, "Mark was instrumental in our recapture of Castle Araphen. I have much to learn from him."
This instantly turned Kent's attention away from catching up, "it is true then? That Araphen fell to Bern?"
"Sadly, yes," the Thrian prince responded, "we were initially hard pressed to defend the castle. The tide had been slightly in our favor before Marquis Emerus opened the gates to the enemy. Marquis Arlon, Sir Sain, and I rode to the defense of the back end of the castle whilst Lord Hector, General Oswin, and Captain Azelus held the front. Apparently," Paris' voice lowered, "dragons crashed through the gatehouse of the castle. Lord Hector and Sir Oswin dealt with the creatures swiftly but not before dealing many deaths to our army and wrecking the castle."
Sain continued as the newcomers' eyes instantly darkened, "the back end of the castle fared no better. Though we faced none of Zephiel's dragons, we were soundly outnumbered. Marquis Arlon perished in battle against Zephiel as we were forced from the field and into the citadel. Lord Hector dueled with King Zephiel before his strength left him and Zephiel murdered him. Much of the army was taken prisoner whilst Sir Paris and I led a rescue mission to free them. It is only with Elimine's grace that it happened to coincide with Pherae's attack."
"By the gods…" Kent suddenly felt much more lightheaded. Dragons had returned to Elibe once more? "What of Marquis Erik? I see not of Laus' accursed bull."
"Laus never appeared to Araphen. We are currently en route to Laus to inquire Marquis Erik as to why he did not provide his men in our struggle."
"And," Mark continued Roy's statement, "do battle with him if it is necessary."
Fiora nodded somberly at her former tactician. All of the companions from the campaign twenty years ago knew that Erik had likely betrayed Lycia or had intentionally withheld his force in order to capture all of the glory for Laus. "Lord Roy," the boy regarded the female knight, "what is your current strength?"
"I am sorry?" Mark turned to his inexperienced lord, sniffing as he patiently explained to the teen what Fiora meant. "Oh, I apologize. Roughly four hundred men."
"Three hundred and ninety two, to be exact. Thirty percent of which is cavalry, seventeen percent is heavy infantry, and ten percent are archers. Oh," the man smiled at Fiora, "and a single pegasus knight."
"It sounds as if you are hard pressed for men," Kent looked behind to his small force, "do you need my men?"
"No, we are f-"
Mark interrupted Roy, "how many archers can you spare, Kent?"
"I have a score remaining in Caelin."
"Ten will do then. Oh," Mark looked over at the steward, "may as well fork over Wallace too. He'll be a boon." The strategist looked at the silver general, who grinned ferociously, "and something tells me he wants to be on the field anyways."
"Of course. I will be sure to lend you my men." Kent knuckled his breastplate, "and if it would to do Mark, would you know how my men performed at Araphen?"
Sain nudged his horse forward, "I would be more than happy to relate the courageous Caelin knights, Kent. So you may…tell their families."
Mark looked over at Sain immediately, instantly realizing what the man was about to do. "Lord Roy," the boy looked over to him, "go with Paris and Marcus and instruct the army to rest. We'll rest for a candlemark." All it took was a look of pleading as the young man understood what Mark was asking.
With a nod, the red haired lord rode off with two of his commanders as Mark dismounted, standing beside Wallace as he did so. Sain had led Fiora and Kent away as he began to soberly describe the battle to them. Wallace looked over to Mark, "how bad was it Mark?"
The tactician sighed. "I wasn't at the battle. I ran into Pherae as I came too late to Araphen…from what I know, Hector and Oswin killed two dragons themselves, though Oswin gave his life in the process. Sain and Paris held the rear before Zephiel forced them from the field. Many Caelin knights died, from what I know, including…" The tactician didn't finish his words as he looked over at the three Caelin knights, awaiting the inevitable.
The wail that emitted from Fiora spoke volumes for Wallace as he watched the pegasus knight collapse against Kent, beating her fists against his breastplate. Sain watched in agony as his boon companion's face contorted, attempting to stem the tears that started to flow. Sain, himself, seemed as though he were to tear up as he shattered the lives of his blood brother and his wife, condemning them to broken hearts and a broken family. Wallace sadly noted that he had never seen Kent cry before as the steward sobbed, grief finally overcoming the Crimson Shield.
Ostia, equaled by only Aquleia and Bern in its greatness, had long been the greatest city and dukedom in all of Lycia. Unequalled in its military might and political prowess, Ostia had been the dukedom to carve Lycia's future from its past; although it had largely been a figurehead of power in the times immediately following the War of Sons, it had quickly consolidated power more and more as a powerful singular state was deemed necessary. With time, Ostia united nearly all of Lycia's military might under it, though the individual dukedoms still held control of their own meager force. With the ability to summon all of Lycia's might in but a few days, however, Ostia ultimately had control over the rest of Lycia. With this realization, Ostia began seeking a rule of compromise and popularity, often making decisions that benefitted the common man and the middle class, as opposed to the nobility that ruled over them. Through this process, Ostia's popularity skyrocketed, even in other dukedoms; to say that the Ostian marquises were as popular as the state they ruled over, however, was a different story.
Although Ostia had maintained hegemony and popularity for nearly six hundred years, the individual marquises that ruled over Ostia varied wildly. Some were of stout constitution and were shrewd leaders, others savvy politicians. Many Ostian marquises were some of the greatest leaders of their age, able to balance the ambitions of many powerful nobles against one another whilst still maintain order within the League. However, just as there were great marquises, there were inferior ones as well. When Lycia had nearly fallen into civil war in 643 A.S., it was due to the lack of prowess of Ostia's marquis; although his son, Arthur the Great, restored order and reformed the League Covenant, it put a special emphasis on the importance of Marquis Ostia for his ability to lead.
The most recent string of marquises, starting with Marquis Laomedon, possessed a certain uncanny ability in a variety of fields. For some marquises, like Laomedon and Uther, their prowess lay in the domestic and political sort, using their political knowledge and savvy to lead Lycia to greatness. Others like Hector excelled in the militaristic arts where they made Lycia a realm to be reckoned with. Whilst all of these recent Ostian marquises were impressive in what they did, not all of them were popular; the most notable unpopular marquis was the late Constantine, father of Uther and Hector. Marquis Constantine had once been an extremely popular marquis, using his economical acumen to stabilize the markets in Lycia following the Subjugation Wars and causing the rise of the middle class. However, word became known that he had sired a son other than his eldest with Lady Roseline; once knowledge of the bastard child had become known, Marquis Constantine was slandered as an adulterer and a liar. Though the marquis was able to rectify his image before his death, his illegitimate son remained. Orun posed a more significant problem to Uther and Hector than he ever did to Constantine; though Hector was the definitive heir to Ostia should Uther perish, the lack of any children between the two placed Orun in position as heir presumptive, which would be a catastrophe for the House of Ostia.
Uther, possessing an uncommon knack for foresight, renewed the ancient House of Thria. Tracing Lady Roseline's heritage back, the Ostian lady had been a distant descendant of Marquis Gerald, the founding marquis of Thria. Proclaiming Orun to be a 'Observing Marquis', Uther instituted that House Thria be renewed and granted a dukedom of its own. Although initially a marquis without any true power for the first five years, Orun eventually gained power after his observance period ended. Ruling with a fair and stern fist, and supporting his half-brother in all matters, Marquis Orun had become a welcome member with the Lycian League as a source of common sense and rationality. Though some marquises still considered Orun to be a bastard child undeserving of his title, many more accepted him as a leader.
Orun didn't serve for his contemporaries, he served for his people. When Orun had been appointed Marquis of Thria, the people of Thria proudly proclaimed them to be their leader and lord and had carried him on their shoulders to Castle Thria. When Orun's son, Paris, was born, the Thrian people sent gifts of all sorts to the castle where Orun foundly received them personally. The Thrian people loved their lord greatly and he, in turn, loved them; it was a symbiotic relationship in which both lord and lorded fed off the other in prosperity and happiness.
Such things made Wagner sick.
The longtime counselor and advisor to Marquis Thria, Wagner was Orun's most trusted confidante. Initially a travelling mage who had once been in service to a minor noble of Etruria, Wagner had won over Orun with his intelligence and deft economical mind; after five years of serving Orun before the marquis was granted his lordship, Wagner was promoted to steward upon Orun's ascension. Wagner had the complete trust of Orun and the lord considered the man to be his truest friend as he listened to nearly every piece of advice Wagner gave.
Master Paris was a bright individual by all means and had quickly ascertained that Wagner was a detriment to Thria. Recognizing the fact that Wagner was intentionally feeding Orun false information regarding the other Lycian lords, Paris had moved to have Wagner dismissed from his post. Wagner responded in turn by attempting to send the youth to Etruria, as well as convince Orun that Wagner was better suited as heir presumptive; Orun eventually called for an end to the attacks, heartbroken over the affair before falling ill. Events seemed to come to a relatively peaceful stalemate as both sides catered to the sick marquis before news came from Ostia, reminding Orun of his obligation as Marquis Thria.
Paris was sent in the ailing marquis' place, leaving Wagner as the sole beneficiary. Eventually forcing Orun to isolate himself to his bedchambers, the steward cut off all communication with the bedridden marquis, with Orun's only human contact coming from Wagner himself. Not content with the pace that Orun was slowing at, Wagner began to slip the marquis a concoction that slowly killed, ensuring that the façade of illness would be maintained.
Steward Wagner consolidated his power, bribing or hiring most of the castle guard as they quickly changed loyalties at the sight of gold. Quickly moving himself into power, Wagner had mercenaries act as a secret police force within the villages, arresting any who dared to malign his name. That initially stopped the whisperings amongst the villagers but the rumors flared once more when word came that Wagner commanded a strange archaic magic unlike the magic used by magicians or priests. As rumors circulated of Wagner's dark arts, the man began dealings with Erik of Laus as well as Narshen of Bern; though while each wished for dominion of Ostia, and with it Lycia, Wagner simply desired his own dukedom.
When word came from a Bern messenger that Araphen had fallen, Wagner set about his processes. With Paris dead and Orun losing his battle to illness, there were none that could impede Wagner's wish. The shaman upped the dosage of the poison, giddy as the marquis became confined to his bedchamber, lacking the strength to even more. Wagner would have been able to do the man in had it not been for a Sacaen nomad wandering upon the castle.
The nomad, a younger woman by the name of Sue, was revealed to be the granddaughter of the Kutolah Chieftan. When Wagner had accidentally slipped the information to Orun, Marquis Thria demanded to see the girl; as the sickly man took a liking to Sue, he talked with her more and more before it was revealed that Sue was the daughter of the late Lady Lyndis, the true Marquise of Caelin. Remembering that his half-brother had been close friends with the Lady Lyndis, Orun gave sanctuary to the nomad. The girl was not often far from Orun's grasp and, due to her distrust of conventional medicine, Wagner was disinclined by Orun to bring him his 'curing potion'; Orun's condition gradually improved as the poison left his system slowly, much to Wagner's dismay. Claiming that it was a mere break in the conditions, Wagner persisted until Orun was forced to concede to his friend and physician and asked the man to bring the medicine anew.
"Jons," Wagner looked over to the captain, "Lord Orun is still within his bedchamber alongside the mongrel girl, yes?"
Wagner's accomplice nodded, "aye Lord Wagner."
"Very well then," Wagner finished mixing the concoction before dipping his hands in a water bucket, "follow me."
The five men walked through the halls of Castle Thria, the only sound coming from their footsteps and the occasional sound of knocking metal. Eventually, the five men drew up on Lord Orun's chambers, wherein Wagner motioned for the four soldiers to station themselves outside of the room. Wagner entered the door quietly, a soft smile on his face as he bowed to his liege lord.
"Wagner…" Orun smiled weakly, "I trust it is time for my medicine?"
"Yes Lord Orun." Wagner pulled the bottle from his robes, the pale brown liquid fizzing slightly, "I made sure to up the dosage as you asked. Your Lordship must get better soon if he wishes to welcome Sir Paris."
Marquis Thria nodded as he took the potion from Wagner; with a grimace, the man coughed as he swallowed the contents of the bottle, letting the last drop pass through his lips before he placed the bottle in Wagner's waiting hands. Orun shuddered for a moment, "thank you Wagner…it pleases me to hear that you and my son have come to an agreement."
"Of course sire," Wagner smiled, "anything to appease you."
Orun nodded gratefully as he rubbed his aching throat, "Sue, did you ever hear what happened to your grandfather?"
The girl nodded as she looked at Wagner with a curious eye, "yes. Grandpa is currently attempting to assemble the Kutolah. He wished me to stay away, however…"
"Actually, Lady Sue," Orun looked to the nomad, "Wagner informed me that another Sacaen came through these parts a few days before you. He claimed he was looking for the granddaughter of the Silver Wolf."
'Damnable man…why don't you shut up and die already…' Wagner nodded, "yes, Lord Orun speaks the truth. I believe he gave his name as Shin."
"Shin was here? Grandpa must've ordered him here…I should follow him."
"No," Orun shook his head, "I will not allow the daughter of my brother's friend to place herself in unnecessary danger…wait until I recover, Lady Sue. Iwill give you a retinue of a dozen knights so as to ensure your success."
Almost as if nature had chosen to defy Orun's words, the marquis was racked by an intense fit of coughing as blood splattered on his fist. With a grimace, the man wiped the redness off on a small towel by his bed before wheezing.
"Lord Orun," Wagner procured another vial from his robe, "please, perhaps it is best to take a second dosage today…"
As Orun reached forward to grab the bottle, Sue laid her hand gently on the weakened man's forearm to prevent him from taking the vial. "Forgive me Lord Orun but…" the nomad eyed the potion, "I'm not sure if that potion is making you better."
Wagner looked incredulously at the Sacaen, "why, of course it is! Were it not for this medicine, Lord Orun would possible be deceased!"
"Why is it then that Lord Orun improved when he was not taking your medicine, Master Wagner? Yet, when you convinced him to begin his treatments once more, his condition took a turn for the worst. Further," Sue wrinkled her nose at the brown liquid, "why is it that none besides yourself know of the ingredients in your medicine?"
"Why, it is so-"
The teen shook her head, cutting Wagner off mid-sentence, "if it is harmless, Master Wagner…then why don't you swallow some?"
Wagner eyed the girl, visibly swallowing. "The medicine…I am not sick…it could react negatively…"
"Not if you simply took a bit of it. Even though I am a 'heathen' to you Lycians, even I know of modern medicine enough to know what would and what wouldn't happen."
Wagner shook his head sadly, "it seems you have discovered me…"
Sue instinctively moved closer to Orun as the marquis looked over weakly to his advisor, confused by the man's words. "Wagner, what do you mean?"
"I mean she has seen my medicine for what it truly is…" Wagner took the small vial and tossed it to his right, watching as the glass shattered against the stone wall. The brown liquid dripped down the wall before collecting in a pool; after a few seconds, the pool begun to sizzle as the compound reacted violently with the air, releasing a foul odor into the air. "If only it had been Lord Orun, I could've been fine…you are too astute for your own good, Lady Sue."
"Wagner! What is the meaning of this!?"
The shaman glared towards his former master, venom sprouting in his dark eyes, "silence fool! For twenty five years I have toiled at your side, preventing your blundering self from running afoul the dukedom you had been granted! It is I who is deserving of your lands and it is I who shall take them!"
Orun's eyes widened at this, finally realizing Wagner's treachery. The marquis feebly raised himself from his bed to a sitting position, hand fumbling under his pillow for the small dagger that he carried. "When Paris returns, he wi-"
"Your troublesome offspring will never return to bother me again," Wagner drew closer to the pair as Sue stiffened, "Araphen has fallen to Bern, with Paris perishing alongside your 'dear' brother."
"Traitor!" Orun finally found the dagger as he tossed it to Sue, who instinctively seized it from the air. The girl pointed the small blade at the shaman, who stepped backwards in retreat. "You shall hang from the gallows, Wagner!"
"I'm afraid not, Marquis," Wagner backed up further, "men! To me!"
Wagner's guards outside the door burt into the room, their swords drawn. Although they were surprised to see Wagner's enemies were Orun and Sue, they pointed their blades at the two nonetheless. Wagner moved behind the four soldiers as Orun looked at the men, aghast at the betrayal of both his friend and his men.
"Lord Wagner," the guard captain looked to his new master, "what shall we do with these two?"
The robed man regarded the two as Sue dropped her weapon without a fight after a sign from Orun. "Throw the girl in the dungeons – I shall contact General Narshen about her." As the girl yelled in protest as she was pulled away from the room, the captain stood loyally by as he awaited orders regarding Lord Orun. "As for Orun…"
Wagner turned and left the room, his voice carrying off in a telling tone. The captain nodded as he closed the door behind Wagner as his subordinate stuffed a rag into the mouth of Marquis Thria. Raising his weapon to strike the deathblow, the captain faltered for a slight moment before the steel sword plunged forward into the marquis' throat. The aged man convulsed immediately, tears flowing down his face as he struggled weakly before the last of his strength finally left him. The man looked at the corpse as he wiped his blade off on the white sheets, staining them with his own lord's blood.
May 2nd, 999 A.S.
A Short March From Castle Laus,
Throughout my extensive travels throughout Elibe, perhaps no single country or land held more treachery and ambitiousness in it than the fabled land of Laus. Not a day goes by where the House of Laus is not conspiring in some plot, whether it be political or economical. Rare are the days in which Laus' plans actually come to complete fruition and it was said amongst the elite thinkers of the past that Laus was full of plots yet lacked plans.
Nothing less true could be said of Erik, however. He has a shrewdness that his father lacked and inherited his father's ambition, if not greater. A devious mind fills him with illusions of grandeur as well as conquest. Although Erik would be wise to maintain his neutrality in such matters, I feel as though he has taken the side of Bern. If that is the case, I will see to it personally that Laus no longer proves to be a thorn in the side of progress.
Mark snapped his journal shut as he tossed the weathered book into his knapsack, joining the four other meager possessions he owned. After obtaining the help of the vaunted Caelin knights, headed by the ageless Wallace, Mark had the army march double pace the rest of the afternoon. Only stopping once night had fallen around them, Mark had reflected long on the visage of his longtime friend breaking down in tears. The longtime advisor chalked the memory down to his mental tally of motivators, as he had with deaths of Lyndis and Hector.
As soon as the morning sun began to peak over the horizon, Mark stirred the camp, anxious to be in Laus as soon as he could. Marching throughout the better part of the morning, Mark was relieved when a Laus scout was spotted slightly before noon. After nearly two more candlemarks of marching, Mark stopped his army at a familiar place.
The land around the delta of the Laus River was moist and often muddy, due to the vast amount of water that exited to the Lycian Gulf. To the untrained eye, it would seem that the land around the river was a prime folly in terms of selection, with an army being nearly unable to quickly move in the poor ground conditions; to master tacticians, however, it was only a partial truth. While the west bank of the river was indeed a perilous position for any force to be in, the east bank was one of incredible natural defenses. With the south flank protected by the steep cliffs of the bay and the east often being the route in which armies advanced into Laus, the east bank provided more than adequate protection. With the only means of an assault coming along the three bridges across the Laus River, any attacking army would have been hard pressed to march east.
It was only with luck and coincidence that Mark had stumbled upon the location on his first expedition through Laus. Although matters had forced his ragtag army to sortie on the eastern bank, the perceptive man had returned to Laus years later and had observed the battlefield, curious as to how the battle had gone so smoothly for them. After making the observation of the land's barriers, the strategist had noted the information in his manuscript on ways to sack Castle Laus. Armed with the information, Mark ordered the army to halt camp on the eastern bank after debating the point with Sir Paris.
Shortly after the army had pitched their temporary camp, a messenger arrived from the castle. Informed that Marquis Erik was to ride out to meet the Lycian Army, Roy was determined to meet the Lycian lord, much to Mark's displeasure. Remembering how the last Pherean lord had fared when parleying with Erik, Mark nearly bellowed with disapproval at the young man. Roy's youth won the day, however, as Mark conceded on the grounds that two veteran knights accompany the lord.
The two chosen, Sain and Marcus, had dealt with the men of Laus before and were no strangers to their villainous ways. Armed to the teeth in preparation for any treachery from Erik, Sain and Marcus rode astride Roy's right and left flank respectively. As all three white horses cantered across the fertile Laus grasses, Erik and his bodyguards emerged into view. Hailing the Lycian commanders with a friendly wave, Erik showed a pleasant face towards the three.
"Master Roy, it is good to see you again," Erik smiled convincingly, "it has been many moons since I have seen you. You were but a lad then."
The fiery youth gave a genuine smile in reply, "forgive me Marquis, I do not remember meeting you due to my age. It is my understanding, however, that my father and you were once classmates. It is an honor to look upon a friend of his."
A glint shined in Erik's eye, "ah yes. Your father is a…great man, to be sure. I have always been very proud to have learned beside him." The Marquis of Laus waved his gloved hand in the air, grasping the reins of his sorrel horse in his left, "I imagine you are seeking my reply to your letter, Master Roy?"
"That would be correct, Lord Erik. I understand your plight, being so far from Araphen as it is, that you were not able to send men to the castle. However," Roy looked over at the man to Erik's left, eying his curved sword, "we are of the times which call for the utmost action. General Narshen, the vanguard force within Lycia, is marching upon Ostia at this exact moment. As per the Covenant, all of Lycia is to assist the homeland. We were hoping that you would be able to assist with this cause."
"Why, I am quite aware of the situation," Erik sneered, "I do not need a whelp from Pherae to remind me of my…obligations."
Roy's conscious stirred at this, quickly scanning the three men before him for any tensing of the muscles, "Marquis Erik, I do not mean you any offense by my statements."
Erik spat on the ground, "I do not want to see you grovel, boy. Instead," the marquis drew a silver sword from his hip, "I wish to see you buried under foot!"
The man swiped with his blade, expecting the deflection from one of the two knights; raised, however, to be a warrior, the heir of Pherae pulled forth his own blade and parried the blow. Striking forward with vigor, Roy wasn't surprised to watch his blade flutter to the side as Erik managed a deflection of his own. Watching as his two knights met blades with Erik's men, Roy dueled with the Marquis of Laus for a few bouts before striking a hit on the man's forearm. With a grimace, Erik called for his guards; behind the marquis, a score of knights appeared from a pair of abandoned homes that Roy had stupidly overlooked. The young knight moved to retreat as Erik pulled back in turn; the three Lycian commanders rode away as a javelin struck the ground beside them. The Pheraen lord was givena small sense of hope as a team of knights under Lance rode forward, acting as the rearguard as their general retreated behind the lines.
Riding towards Mark's half-raised tent, the youth dismounted as he looked to his advisor. "Mark, Marquis Erik-"
The tactician nodded, "I witnessed. You did well defending yourself, Master Roy."
"This isn't the time for appraisal Mark…" Roy finally sheathed his thin blade, "we need a battle plan."
"Aye," Mark unfurled an old map, with many x's and o's drawn across it, "the enemy will attempt to attack us at three points, which are the three bridges. If we wished to let them come to us, we would allow them to break their steeds on the wall of our shields behind these bridges. However…time is of the essence and manpower is key. In order to defeat our enemy, we must employ odder tactics than this."
Roy bent over the map alongside Mark, "what do you have in mind?"
"Laus' primary tactic has long been an overwhelming charge against foes. A force of cavalry act as the initial wave and tend to be followed by infantry to mop up the foe. Now, if we use the cavalry against them…"
Erik retreated to his keep, standing guard before the gatehouse to take personal command of the battle. After exchanging blades with Roy, Erik had issued his second in command to summon the Laus Army. Getting the cut on his arm mended by Asticot, his personal advisor and priest, Erik donned his armor and hoisted his lance. Unlike twenty years ago, where he had acted as the point for the charging Laus cavalry, he would be directing from behind the lines.
Under his direct orders, two score of heavy cavalry stampeded towards the Laus River. Equipped with the heaviest chainmail and weaponry that Laus had available, the men stormed unimpeded before the sight of the river reached them. Seemingly catching the enemy unawares, the cavalry captain issued an order to divide; half of the men would advance across the southern bridge while the other half would move along the northern one.
Along the northern flank, the knights bounded easily across the bridge, not listening as the bridge gave audible groans beneath their immense weight. When the last knight made it onto the bridge, the wooden structure gave way, having been weakened under Mark's orders. The Laus River immediately swept away the wooden planks, along with the horses. The knights themselves, weighed down by the bulky chainmail and weaponry attached to their hips, sank to the bottom of the river where their lungs collapsed due to the lack of oxygen. The handful of men who did manage to reach the east bank were met promptly by the blades of Dieck's men.
Those assaulting the southern bridge fared no better, as evidenced by the sight of fire along the wood. Coated in cooking oil from the mess tent, the bridge was set aflame as soon as the majority of the knights were on it. Although most of the knights perished as their heated armor roasted them from the inside, the few that had managed to miss the flames were soon ended by an inexperienced but extremely deadly fireball. The green haired mage who cast the spell looked aghast but, after a few friendly pats from the army's strategist, he managed to recover from the sight and mentally praise himself on his accomplishment.
"Mark," Sain walked up to the man, who ordered Lugh to fall in alongside Dieck's men, "the plan worked to perfection. However, if we cut off the middle bridge, that simply leaves us stranded on this side of the river. What shall we do next?" The veteran knight was joined shortly thereafter by Paris, Marcus, and Roy, who had all been summoned by the strategist.
"Give order for the Pheraen and Caelin cavalry to sortie under the direction of yourself and Marcus." The tactician unfurled his map once more, setting it against a tree, "you are to cross the river immediately, alongside with Dieck's men. The Caelin archers are to join you, under the direction of Wallace. The rest of the army, under Sir Paris, is to march northbound along the riverbank. In a half day's time, there will be the next crossing. The army is to cross this bridge as quick as possible, where they shall march towards the plains north of Castle Laus."
"Why not march the entire army across the bridge here?"
"In order for our plan to work, we must completely isolate the Pheraen and Caelin force."
"Where shall Lord Roy be in this plan?" Marcus hopped on his steed as the young lord in question rode over, "is he to lead the Pheraen force?"
"I suppose so, yes. It is good that he gets firsthand experience with my tactics…" Mark nodded to each of the commanders, "you all have your orders. Oh," Mark rolled the ancient map back up, "would someone mind bringing Chad and Thany to me? I need to speak to them…"
News came of the onslaught three candlemarks later; the first wave's failure infuriated Erik and caused him to sack the commanding captain. Nearly forty men had been effortlessly killed due to recklessness and arrogance; he had long thought that he had stamped out those annoying qualities from his army! Nonetheless, Erik donned his warhelm as he issued the mobilization of his army. Unlike most of Lycia, Laus was able to field a stout number of men due to their position within the heartland of Lycia. With nearly three hundred men at his disposal, Marquis Erik represented a large portion of Lycia's potential might.
What Erik had recognized, however, was while Laus was able to field more men than any other Lycian state other than Ostia, its soldiers were often vastly inferior to other regulars, especially those of Ostia, Pherae, and Caelin. Erik set out to correct this costly fact, requiring nearly ten years of intense training and restructuring before the man deemed his army equal to those of Lycia. Setting out with his lance in hand, the army of Laus at his back, Erik moved to make true on his beliefs.
Keeping Asticot along with Rutger at the keep to command the army in the event that the marquis fell in battle, Erik covered the majority of the grasslands before the sight of the mighty river came upon them. Unable to see the mighty army across the river, Erik anticipated a trap was in store for the native force. Requiring a plan of action, however, Erik ordered a score of horsemen to move on the bridge, though slow enough so that a dozen spearmen could follow. All seemed to be fine as the men crossed the bridge, with all thirty two men reaching safely across; the instant that happened, however, caused Erik to panic. Noticing a movement underneath the bridge, the Marquis of Laus looked on with despair as the bridge snapped into the river, smoking drifting upwards curiously. A boy in yellow robes climbed from the steep bank, his robes dirty from the mud alongside the bank. Almost immediately, over forty men climbed from the bank, having been hidden from view by the width of the bridge. Face nearly turning purple in anger, Erik ordered the call to charge before a rain of arrows fell on the stranded soldiers.
The arrows were launched from a large hill that pointed the bend in the river. Atop the hill, having hidden themselves in trees and shrubbery, a little over thirty archers drew back their bows once more, raining death on the men on the eastern bank. The stranded Laus soldiers futilely attempted to reach the other shoreline before a combination of arrow and fire ended any chance of such a success.
Moving his men into an arrow formation, Erik ordered an all out charge of his cavalry. The heavily armed men stormed outwards, their lances extended as they pounded towards their enemy. Although the Lycian archers and the fire mage would claim more than one Laus life in the attack, the immense power of the cavalry charge would claim many more. As the lancers drew closer, a bellowing laugh came from the defenders as they suddenly charged forward. Unused to such an aspect of battling, the Laus men charged forward undaunted – that is, until a force of Caelin horsemen emerged from behind the hill. Led by the green knight from the parley, the Caelin knights slammed into the left flank of Erik's men, throwing the Laus formation into disarray. Attacked in the front by the heavy blades and axes of the mercenaries and the lances of the Caelin knights, Erik knew his men were doomed. Though his cavalry gave the best they could, claiming more than one allied life in the process, they fell to a man as yet another Laus offensive was stopped.
Realizing he may lose the field now due to his lack of cavalry, Erik issued an order for retreat. Turning tail and fleeing towards Castle Laus, the rest of his men nearly broke out to a sprint as the sight of death caused them to tuck their tail between their legs. Ahead of the army on his steed, Erik could barely wonder how he had been so overmatched on the field. Surely, though, behind the walls of the castle, he would be able to even the odds.
Carefully crafted over the centuries by marquises who had the same outlook on what Ostia should be, the defensive structures that defined Ostia doubled as more than that. Lion's Hold, the single greatest defensive structure in all of Elibe, was also the place where Ostian marquises spoke unto their people. This was not due to the fact that they were removed from the rest of Ostia and needed to be separated by water and stone but because of the fact that Lion's Hold was the tallest structure within the city.
Originally, Marquis Ostia would stand behind the walls where they would speak as loud as they possibly could over the crowd that typically gathered before them. Although not exactly effective, it worked better than to pass decrees on paper and causing the populace to not see their leader. When Marquis Uther came to power, however, the first major renovation he did was to install a platform on the front of Lion's Hold. Though slightly compromising the strength of the wall, the platform allowed a greater view of the marquis as well as a greater ability to communicate clearly. Able to stand before his people and speak clearly, Lord Uther had considered the project to be one of the more successful orders he had given. When the people saw their lord clearly, it instilled a belief that the man was more than just a title, that he truly cared for him; this eventually led to the absolute adoration for Uther and, in turn, his brother Hector. Due to the immense popularity of this new type of speaking, the platform eventually became known as 'Uther's Landing'.
Jutting out from the center of Lion's Hold, over the large drawbridge, Uther's Landing was built with the marquis' security in mind. Although the platform extended out over the water, there was no true way to access the land except from the actual battlements of Lion's Hold. Because Uther's Landing was lower than the walls of Lion's Hold, any possible attempts at an assassination from the walls were near impossible. The platform provided a perfect place for the marquis to address his people as well as providing superb protection during these speeches.
When General Leygance had announced that he was to speak to the people, it went without saying that he would be speaking from Uther's Landing. Though the speech would not begin until the afternoon, the commoners began to linger around the front where the drawbridge lowered, eagerly awaiting General Leygance. Although public opinion was generally against him, it was still the first official act that Leygance was undertaking as regent. As the sun reached its highpoint, the small crowd had expanded greatly into the streets and past the shops. Hundreds of men, women, and children were staring towards Uther's Landing, gossiping amongst themselves for the reason behind the speech.
As he looked down from a window within the castle, Leygance couldn't help but sneer slightly. He had never held an exact sort of love for the Ostian populace, not like the marquises did. Checking it to his miserable childhood, General Leygance simply recognized the people for their importance in his power. Leygance realized, too late for his own popularity, that a lordship was never proven legitimate without the people. It was for that reason that he had decided to make himself, and Lady Lilina, publically available for the first time in nearly a week. Why, he even decided to allow the heiress speak to her people – well, with persuasion to her words, of course.
"Lord Leygance," Devias knuckled his breastplate, "there are archers situated atop the battlements of Lion's Hold, milord. Likewise, two knights are posted at Uther's Landing and shall stand guard while you speak."
Leygance didn't bother to point out Devias' mistakes regarding his title any longer. With the imprisonment of Lady Lilina and the banishment of Barth, there were none within Castle Ostia who did not consider Leygance to be their lord. "Very good. Is Lilina being brought here?"
"Aye sire. I ordered my lieutenants to acquire the lady."
Lilina joined the two men shortly after, her head bent over in dejection. Though the daughter of Hector had been obstinate the first few days she had been locked up, her resolve had been worn down by the lack of food given to her. Eventually pleading with Leygance to release her from her prison, the general allowed the lady to have some semblance of freedom. The man, however, forced Lady Lilina to the same bedchambers as he at night, which made for much entertainment for Leygance at the girl's expense. Nonetheless, outside of some harmless taunting and teasing, the general ensured that the girl's safety was not compromised, deeming her far too valuable to be made as a toy.
Upon the sight of Lilina, with the two armed guards beside her, Leygance smiled. "Lady Lilina…we've been waiting for you."
The bluenette granted the man a death glare, "I am not your pawn, Leygance."
"Of course not, milady," Leygance kindly smiled as he gave his arm towards the girl, "I believe I informed you on today's proceedings?"
The teen linked her arm through the general's, nodding ever so slightly. Though the interaction between the two seemed amicable, Lilina was afraid for her life. Afraid that if she did not do as Leygance commanded, her life would turn forfeit. Although any political damage the man did could be overturned with time, human lives could not be replaced. "Yes, you did."
"Good then…let us step foot outside, milady."
Passing through the large oaken doors that separated them from the outside, the purple garbed general led his blue-haired charge towards the front, where she waved to her people. Upon seeing the sight of the lady Lilina, the Ostian people erupted in approval and joy. For the first time in seven days, Lilina truly smiled in happiness as the people chanted her name; the sight of pure exultation that the commoners gave was enough to make the heiress laugh in joy. Leygance couldn't help but smile at this as his plan worked. Instantly, the minds of the crowd changed as they witnessed their beloved Lady Lilina share the same stage as the hated Leygance and their view of the man brightened.
Electing not to wave as Lilina did, Leygance stood off to the side as he watched the crowd die down. To them, he was just the general, the placeholder until their Lord Hector returned from the front. In order for him to be truly recognized as their protector, he would have to be legally installed as the Lord of Ostia, something that would never happen as long as the royal blood of Roland were still prevalent within the city.
Eventually, after many minutes of simple waving and cheering, the crowd quieted to hear Lilina speak. Gulping audibly, Leygance suppressed a smile as the girl summoned the strength to speak.
"People of Ostia, it is with no small amount of pleasure that I see you today," she spread her arms out wide, "I am renewed to see so many pleasant faces looking up towards me and I am here to say…thank you. Thank you for trusting in my father and I, in our choice for regent," a gesture towards Leygance was met with more than a few hisses and boos, "and for our decision to defend Ostia and Lycia. I realize that these past few weeks have been most strenuous but, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for your unending support and patriotism."
The teen waited for the applause to die down before speaking once more, "I realize I have made myself scarce to you this past week but it is with no feeling of trepidation that I say I will make myself more available to you, my people, and it is with much joy that I will say the following…"
"Upon the noon of the fifth of May, within the Ostian Colosseum, I am pleased to announce that five nobles, including General Leygance, will take on all comers for four candlemarks. After which these four candlemarks have passed, the five men remaining shall duel, with one man claiming victory over the other four…" Lilina paused, breathing deeply, her hands shaking profusely against the stone, "with the blessings of my father, Lord Hector, Marquis of Ostia, I shall be wed to this champion within the following week of his triumph."
Leygance could hardly contain the overwhelming joy in his heart as he watched the people cheer at the announcement.
