If anyone was expecting the next Settra chapter, it's actually quite done now. In my head. But I hated how it went on paper, so I am re-writing it again. Have this instead. I probably made use of switching viewpoints in this chapter more times than previously because a lot of people are seeing things for the first time.
Chapter IX
In Harm's Way
Prim…
Alicia's thoughts were in turmoil as she rode at the head of her Iris Knights. It was a strange feeling for her, especially since long rides often helped clear her mind. Try as she might to concentrate on the situation at hand, her mind kept dredging up horrid images of what may happen, should the worst come to pass.
Prim, please be safe.
The Iris Knights were arranged in a rough semicircle and rode at full gallop some distance ahead of the Rhomaioi's right-most squadron. Alicia did not order her sisters to adopt such a formation; it simply came about as her knights struggled to keep pace with her. Unlike her Rhomaioi allies, she did not take time to direct her knights to form up and restart their run with a measured canter: there was no time for such a leisurely run. With parts of Ur already in flames, there was little time for anything. That was something the Rhomaioi did not seem to understand.
Alicia scowled as she rode, her choler rising within. She knew she had no right to be upset at any of the Rhomaioi. They saved her people, the very same ones she surrendered to the Black Dogs, and restored her rule over the kingdom even though they could have very easily taken over themselves. The commander of this allagion, Kamateros, had been nothing but respectful and professional throughout this mission. She had no ill feelings even towards Captain Markos, and she understood that his earlier transgression of locking her knights into the great hall was only done with the best of intentions. Still their insistence towards concepts like managing their horses' stamina, remaining in formation, and watching their flanks even when they ought to be hurrying grated at her.
What grated at her more was that she knew they were right.
They seek to remain a unified force in case they have to fight, she thought to herself. That is sensible, more so than blindly rushing forward. But if we don't hurry…
'Your Highness!' came a voice from the left side of the formation, whom Alicia recognised as the Novitiate Ilena. 'Report! Riders approaching the centre and left!'
Alicia looked to her left to see for herself. She indeed saw silhouettes of approaching men on horseback. They seemed to be wearing helmets, armour and tunics, but the princess cannot determine who they were since they also did not carry a banner.
'I'm unsure as to whether those are allies or enemies,' Cassandra, who also turned and looked in response to the report. 'What shall we do?'
'I heard,' Alicia replied, looking forward once more. 'Since they are coming right towards the centre, the Rhomaioi will have seem them as well.' She then raised her voice to address the rest of her knights. 'We will turn to intercept if the riders seem hostile. If not, we push on.'
The Iris Knights gave calls of assent when Ilena shouted again.
'Report!' the novitiate called out. 'The riders wear the symbol of the House of Mortadella! Enemy riders approaching our centre!'
Cassandra looked towards Alicia, who nodded in return.
'Sound the alarm!' The sergeant barked. 'Prepare to dismount and form up!'
As Cassandra spoke, though, Alicia's attention turned elsewhere. The sounding of trumpets alerting the Rhomaioi to the enemy suddenly became a distant noise in the background as the princess looked straight ahead, at the direction the riders came from.
She saw two more groups of horsemen arranged in two rows each surrounding an all-too-familiar object. It was a two-horse carriage made in the elegant style of Ur. A coachman and a guard sat in front and two footmen stood on the platform jutting from the rear of the passenger compartment. The carriage itself was dark-hued with golden ornaments and trim, with even the spokes of its wheels gilded to a golden lustre. Alicia's eyes widened as she saw the very distinctive sigil painted on the green oval shield placed below the curtained glass window on the carriage's door: a golden wine goblet, with two characters in the flowing script of the beastmen below it. That was the sigil of the House of Mortadella.
The traitors were escaping, with Prim most likely in their clutches.
'Belay last order!' Alicia shouted just as her knights were about to turn right. 'Forward, with all speed! After that carriage!'
'What of the Rhomaioi?' Cassandra asked.
'They are skilled enough to take care of themselves,' Alicia replied, teeth gritted in agitation. 'But if that carriage is lost, then Prim is lost.'
'We better sound the call for pursuit, to let Lord Kamateros know what we are doing,' the sergeant advised.
'Do so,' Alicia hurriedly replied before raising her voice once more. 'Forward, at the double!'
Calls of assent once more echoed around the princess as her squadron sped up, but she paid them little heed as her a single thought echoed through her mind.
Prim… I must save Prim!
The shrill cry of trumpets issued from the north, alerting both men and horses alike. The blast from one trumpet was then followed by another, and another still, and then by the blast of other instruments, still recognisable as trumpets but different in tone, until it seemed that the entire field of Ur was resounding with the noise. The trumpets clearly signalled a call to arms, and the elvish-sounding battle cries, while unusual, all but confirmed it for the twenty-four horsemen the Mortadella brothers sent to investigate the newcomers from the north. These new riders were not their friends, and they most certainly were not Black Dogs.
The horsemen halted in their tracks, but not out of any such amateurish reasons such as panic of fright. After all, the men-at-arms of House Mortadella were true warriors by trade, unlike soldier-farmers fielded by the other noble houses of Ur or the mercenary rabble – mere sanctioned bandits – hired by many Eostian lords. The Mortadella brothers had standards, and only those who met those standards had any right to receive the rich rewards that came from serving them.
Sandro, captain of the Mortadellas' household guard, considered the situation as what appeared to be three large groups of horsemen – each one seemingly larger than his own squadron – closed in. Four, he thought, correcting himself after he saw that the smaller vanguard of the group was actually separate from the rest. He focussed his attention on the banner flown by this vanguard: a six-petalled blue flower on a field of white bordered by blue.
'The Iris Knights?' the guardsman beside Sandro remarked. 'Impossible. The Black Dogs ought to have taken them all.'
Sandro snorted in response. 'No, it's very possible,' he said. 'Formidable as their reputation is, the Black Dogs are still mercenaries, reckless and ill-disciplined as any. I believe what we're facing are stragglers from Feoh, who hope to find aid in Ur.' Though their other banners don't seem to resemble anything from Feoh, he thought. Foreign mercenaries?
'But why attack us?' another guardsman asked.
'Maybe the Black Dogs' commander was foolish enough to have babbled of the Masters' involvement,' Sandro replied with a shrug, his attention still caught by the newcomers' other banners. 'You know those sell-sword types. They love to brag about their advantages.'
The captain then looked back and called out to his men. 'Lure and peel off,' he said. 'We have to lead these newcomers away from the masters' carriage.'
The rest of the men spoke their assent, and the two rows of horsemen rode once more.
The Mortadellas' guards first rode straight ahead, swords drawn, as if intending to meet the newcomers head-on. And then, at a signal, when they were close enough for Sandro to note how the apparent stragglers' shirts seemed to glint in the sunlight and how small their horses looked, he gave the signal for the formation to turn. His men complied with their usual efficiency as the signal sounded, peeling off to the east with as little disruption in the formation as possible.
As his formation completed its turn and went ran eastward, Sandro considered his options. Returning to Ur to get help would not be good, he knew, since most of the city guard would be occupied with putting down the rebellion inside. Circling back, hitting the pursuing groups from the flanks, and then pulling back again was another option, but the captain also discarded that idea after glancing back at their pursuers. If they managed to turn and follow us that quickly, they would be able to turn and strike as quickly as we can, he thought. And they can easily overwhelm us with their numbers.
It seems continuing this way is the only option for us, Sandro thought. He knew that if these newcomers were truly stragglers from Ur like he thought, they would have been riding for days, and they and their horses would have been exhausted from their escape.
'Squadron!' Sandro called out atop the galloping of horses. 'We will gradually slow to a quick canter, but do not let our friends back there realise what we are doing,' he continued. 'Zell!'
'Sir!' the aforementioned guardsman shouted from the rear row.
'Keep a close eye on the newcomers,' Sandro ordered. 'Sound the alarm if our friends are less than ten feet from us. We will all speed up to full gallop when the alarm sounds, and only when it does. Am I understood?'
All of the guardsmen called out their assent, much as their captain expected, and then gradually slowed their pace. A few tense minutes passed, with the sounds of the strangers' galloping coming ever closer, until Zell sounded his trumpet from the rear.
Sooner than expected, Sandro thought. Those ponies can run.
'Now!' he shouted.
The guardsmen all urged their horses to run as quickly as they could. The animals, loyal and trained as they were, complied almost immediately, giving little more than neighs of surprise and effort. Sandro knew that the strangers would be so taken by surprise and indignation at this that they would redouble their efforts at the chase and likely ignore the masters' carriage altogether, at least for the time being.
Now then, let's see if your little ponies can keep up with the finest of Ur's warhorses.
So began the chase, with the Roman koursores pursuing the Eostian guardsmen across the wide, green plain of Ur. The neighing of horses and the crash of hooves on the earth filled the air, along with the shouts and calls of men in both Greek and the Eostian tongue.
Sandro was confident that his men would be able to outrun their pursuers and lose them somewhere along the way. His confidence was not unfounded, for the horses reared in Ur's rich pasturelands were among the finest in all of Eostia.
Despite riding almost ceaselessly for a number of days and being beaten out in terms of raw speed, the Romans still managed to keep up with their foes to some extent. After all, they rode upon steeds of the redoubtable Thessalian stock, whose ancestors carried mighty Alexandros from fertile Macedon to the distant Indus, and bore proud Roman cavalrymen from the time before the Caesars to the present age of Komnenian Emperors. Those horses were bred for endurance and longevity, and they did their honoured ancestry proud.
The chase seemed to have gone on for a long time, though in truth, it did not take even a quarter of an hour. The pursuers and pursued ran parallel to Ur's eastern road for the first few stadia, with Sandro not taking any chances despite knowing that the Mortadellas' carriage and remaining guards should have veered to the south-eastern road at the first opportunity. Such was what his masters instructed in the event something they did not fully foresee happened, and such was what he had ordered all of the men attending the carriage to do.
The guard captain later decided to veer slightly southward upon seeing an easier means of escape for him and his men. That means of escape came in the form of a very recognisable banner that became visible from a distance. This banner depicted a field of red with a black border at the bottom, from which arose a semi-circular white sun whose rays cut through the red field and reached the borderless top portion: the sunburst banner of the Dawn Templars.
However, Sandro did not realise that his plan had been foiled since the beginning. Only two-thirds of the Roman contingent were pursuing them from the start, with Kamateros's bandon doing the actual pursuit. Eirenikos's men, who were instructed to hang back, only moved at a trot some distance behind. They would act as reinforcements or to go and contact the rest of the force, whichever the situation necessitated. Additionally, Markos's bandon, which made up the Roman right, broke from the formation with Kamateros's consent and rode after the Iris Knights, who galloped furiously straight towards the Mortadellas' carriage.
The light of the sun glinted from two-dozen swords as two-dozen horsemen galloped forward in two lines twelve wide, their armoured forms covered by large oval shields that bore the goblet and lettering of the House of Mortadella.
Alicia grit her teeth in frustration, her eyes still affixed at the direction of the Mortadella's fleeing carriage, whose view was blocked by the approaching guardsmen. The vehicle was close, so close, not even two hundred yards away. She could order her knights to loop around these enemies to continue the chase, but she knew that the men they were facing were not ones she could simply circle around or avoid. These were men-at-arms under the employ of the House of Mortadella, reputed across Feoh and Ur for their discipline and skill at arms, and armed and armoured with the best equipment their notoriously wealthy lords could buy.
The princess bit her lip. And they outnumber us two to one, she thought, with the Rhomaioi too pre-occupied to help.
Another thought came to her as her heart began to thunder within her chest. Fall back, it said, withdraw to your allies. It will be safer that way.
'Draw swords!' she ordered, drowning out the treasonous thoughts from her mind. 'Prepare to engage!'
As Cassandra's trumpet sounded to echo the princess's order, the Iris Knights raised their rounded shields and readied their swords to meet the guardsmen's attack with one of their own. Alicia looked to her left and right, and saw the growing unease in her knights' faces. A cold shiver ran across her spine as the enemies grew closer and closer. Still, she knew she cannot turn back.
I am descended from the line of Eos Arcturus and Knight-Commander of the Holy Order of the Iris, she thought. Neither my enemies nor my allies will see me flee from battle.
'For the Goddess!' Alicia shouted as she sped her horse up. 'For Feoh!'
'For Feoh!' came the reply from all of her knights, who followed their commander.
The two groups of horsemen clashed in a spectacle of sound and fury, of whinnying horses and shouts of exertion, and of the song of steel blades finding their marks. Alicia growled as she thrust her blade low, and the guardsman facing her lowered his shield to protect his horse. Before the man could push the blade aside with his shield, however, the princess stopped mid-strike and spun her blade back, switching from a thrust to a high diagonal diagonal cut. The guardsman screamed in pain as Alicia's sword chopped into the base of his neck and scraped his collarbone, causing a gush of red arterial blood to flow out as the princess withdrew her blade.
At the same time, the horseman charging at Alicia's left lashed out with his own sword. The princess deflected the blow with a well-timed block, withdrew her blade from the guardsman at her right, and chopped in a wide curving arc from right to left. The second man was unable to move his shield or dodge quickly enough, and the princess's sword again found enemy flesh, this time at the side of the abdomen, just below the man's steel heart protector. The man hissed in pain and tried for a wild sweep of his blade. Alicia again raised her shield to block. She drew her sword back to herself with the same motion, opening a wide gash in the guardsman's side. He screamed in utmost pain as his lifeblood and innards gushed forth, and his panicked horse bolted and ran forward. He fell at a wrong angle and broke his neck. He spent his last moments feebly twitching atop a growing pool of his own gore, which stained the hooves of Alicia's horse as the princess urged it onward.
Despite Alicia overcoming her own enemies and remaining unharmed, her knights did not fare as well as she did. Their charge was halted, with a few of the knights and a roughly equal number of guardsmen wounded or unhorsed. As it was with all contests between Eostian horse, the fighting then became a series of one-on-one duels after the initial charge, with the Mortadella guardsmen matching the Iris Knights, sword for sword and skill for skill.
Alicia wanted to turn her horse and aid one of her sisters, but she knew she could not: the second line of guardsmen, just as numerous as the first, was fast approaching, their sergeant urging them to go faster. The princess had faith that her knights were more than a match for the guardsmen, but she also knew that they would be cut down if this second group managed to reach them.
I am the blood of Eos and Commander of the Iris Knights, Alicia thought again. I do not run.
The princess raised her sword and her shield to high guard once more and ordered her horse to trot a few steps forward, daring the approaching enemies to face her.
The approaching guardsmen seemed to have noticed, with the sergeant sounding his trumpet and pointing at Alicia. The enemy line curved inwards as the horsemen at the sides of the formation moved in to charge at her.
Other foreign sounds finally registered through the haze of battle in Alicia's mind when the enemies were a few feet away: trumpets, galloping, and a now-familiar battle cry.
'O Stavros nika!'
All the fighting seemed to have ceased for a moment as one group of the Rhomaioi, formed up in a tight wedge formation, slammed into the enemy at an angle from the right. They struck the guardsmen at full speed, with wordless cries of battle coming from man and horse alike while the blaring of trumpets sounded the death-knell of their foes. Such was the ferocity of the Rhomaioi's charge that the very weight of their horses became as much a weapon as their couched spears. Alicia could only stare in wonderment at this kind of fighting from horseback, which was totally foreign to her or to Eostia as a whole. The enemy formation broke like a twig set upon by an axe, six of the guardsmen thrown off their horses or impaled by gleaming spear-points. The Rhomaioi wedgewent straight through the line, only slowing so they can turn around to finish off the six guardsmen that remained.
We have to learn how to fight like that, she thought.
It was at this point that the remaining guardsmen, hard-pressed by the Iris Knights before them and with the Rhomaioi wedge approaching from behind, decided to turn and flee.
'Forward!' Alicia shouted as the guardsmen her knights were fighting started to break off from their duels. The Iris Knights, heartened by the arrival of reinforcements and wanting to avenge their fallen sisters, eagerly galloped forward after their commander. The knights and the Rhomaioi closed in on the fleeing enemies from two sides.
Alicia caught a fleeing guardsman with a horizontal slash to her right. A large bloody gash opened up in the man's exposed side, and his horse reared up in panic. He fell to the ground as his innards spilled out through the side of his abdomen, but he would not die by his wounds. He would instead be stamped to death by the steeds of both his friends and foes.
As her first opponent bled out on the ground, Alicia deftly dodged a wild sword swipe to her right and responded with a quick thrust. The princess's blade found its mark, biting deep in the man's guts, while she raised her shield to deflect an opportunistic downward chop by another guardsman. The said guardsman did not find the chance to try again, quickly turning his torso to the left to block another strike. The princess hurriedly withdrew her blade to deal with this enemy, only to find him fall limply off his horse with a spear impaled into his gut, just below the ribs. Things seemed to have quietened down all around the princess as the man fell from view, and Alicia found herself face-to-face with the soldier who defeated the last of the guardsmen, the one who saved her knights with their timely arrival: Captain Markos himself.
There was no time for greetings or words of thanks between captain and princess, though. The two merely nodded to each other in acknowledgement before looking around once more, with Markos drawing his curved sword in the place of his spear. A tense, quiet moment then ensued, with the only noises being the whinnying of horses and distant cries of pain from one guardsman, until it became clear that the engagement was indeed over.
The engagement ended with two of the Iris Knights dead and four wounded, two only lightly so. Of the two-dozen enemies they faced, sixteen were dead, five were wounded and unable to run, three managed to flee, and eighteen of their horses were fit enough to be captured. The Rhomaioi were unhurt, which solidified Alicia's resolve to learn as much from them as possible.
With the fighting done, the Rhomaioi first rounded up the captured horses and secure the prisoners. Some of their men, Markos included, also dismounted and tried to yank out their spears from the bodies of the dead. Opposite them, Cassandra formed up the surviving Iris Knights to form into a line, with two knights going off after to secure horses as well. Meanwhile, Alicia and two other knights dismounted to attend their fallen sisters. Alicia walked to the body of the knight furthest from where her sisters gathered: Ilena.
The princess's heart sank as she knelt down to behold the form of her sister-in-arms, who showed no obvious wounding of any sort. Her thick padded coat was cut open at the left waist, its padding bursting out, but the cut was not deep enough for a blade to find flesh. Instead, Ilena was killed when her neck broke in a bad fall. She died solely due to bad luck. Alicia bit back tears as she carried the body back to the formation, noticing that it seemed heavier than it had any right to be. A few other knights dismounted to meet her when she reached the formation, and they slowly slung Ilena's body across the saddle of the horse that was previously hers.
Alicia heard footsteps behind her as she secured Ilena's body in place. She turned around to see Markos standing a few steps before her.
The captain bowed in that peculiar manner the Rhomaioi did.
'I am hoping thou and the rest of thy companions are reasonably well, Your Highness,' he said, eyeing Ilena's body with an expression Alicia could not completely tell. She saw a hint of sadness in his green eyes, but there was something else there. Regret? Sympathy?
'I lost two but preserved ten because of your intervention,' the princess said. 'You have my thanks.'
'So demandeth our duty,' Markos replied. He again looked at Ilena. 'I only regret that we have not come sooner. Shall we return thy wounded and fallen to the forest's edge before joining with the Allagator?'
Alicia shook her head.
'We have no time to join up with the others,' she remarked. She then raised her arm and pointed forward, towards the carriage. 'That is the personal transport used by the Mortadella brothers. I am certain Princess Prim is in there.'
'I understand,' Captain Markos said with a nod. He then turned, jogged to his horse, and shouted out orders.
'The bandon will divide into quarters,' he ordered. 'I shall lead Lazar's men to pursue yon carriage from the rear. Gavrilo, thou shalt accompany Petar's men to take pursuit from the left. Ivan's men will cut off the carriage's path to the right. Andrej's men will take the horses and prisoners to the rally point and guard them there until such time when we or the Allagator's men return.'
Alicia heard a chorus of cries of agreement as the Rhomaioi heeded their orders, and the horsemen sped off once more at the sound of their trumpets.
'What should we do, Your Highness?' Cassandra asked as she rode up to Alicia's right. The princess turned to observe the rest of her knights, many of whom were still catching their breath from the fight.
'I will take six knights. We ride to the right and cut off the carriage's escape,' Alicia answered. She turned to the two knights helping her secure Ilena into place. 'Go with those men,' she ordered, pointing at the Rhomaioi horsemen pulling the horses and prisoners back to the edge of the forest. 'Take the wounded and fallen, attend to them as necessary.'
'Yes, Your Highness,' Cassandra and the two knights said. She then ran to her horse, took out her trumpet again, and gave a single long blast, and rode at the head of a much-diminished squadron after the Rhomaioi.
'Begging your pardon, Masters, but we will have to increase our speed once more,' the footman said.
'Of course,' Ponti replied with a nod. 'We allow it.'
The footman again turned away from the window, and Ponti again slid it shut before facing his brother.
The Mortadella twin quietly sighed immediately after shutting the window, taking a moment to calm himself before facing his brother. He would not lie to himself: the situation was grim. The riders turned out not to be Black Dogs at all, but hostile forces of unknown allegiance. It seemed that Captain Sandro tried to bait the new riders into chasing him instead of the carriage, but a stroke of ill luck led to at least some of the enemies spotting the carriage and giving chase anyway. In a panic, Conti ordered the rest of their bodyguard detail to ride out and defeat the newcomers, but as per the footman's report, they have been defeated, with most of the survivors choosing to flee.
The ride became bumpier and less comfortable than it was, with the carriage having to go through grassland to head towards the south-eastern road. The near-constant rocking and bumps felt inside the passenger compartment reminded Ponti of a boat ride in the Great Lake through a storm, or perhaps through rougher parts of one of the great rivers of Eostia. But instead of the crash of waves against their hull, what he heard from the outside was galloping and the shouts of men from their rear, left, and right, accompanied by that seemingly endless trumpeting soldiers were wont to do.
'They left us,' Conti hissed, his eyes wide and his nostrils flared in agitation. 'The cowards! They up and fled, just like that! Have they no honour? Have they no pride?'
'Peace, brother,' Ponti said, facing his brother at last. His voice was shaky, however, for he himself did not feel at peace. 'All… may not yet be lost. We may still have a way of escaping.'
'How?' Conti asked, jutting his snout towards his brother and glaring. 'That fool Sandro has ran off somewhere, the rest of his men have scattered like cowards, and we now have enemies chasing us from three sides! What might be our way out of this?'
Ponti shook his head as he thought, his eyes darting towards the burlap sacks that contained their prizes. The accursed trumpeting and galloping around the carriage seemed to have grown louder, and he thought he could make out some shouted words. Is that elvish…?
'W-why, we…' he muttered, before he managed to collect his thoughts and tune out the cacophony outside. 'We rescued the fair princess and her handmaiden from their captors, of course, and we are currently taking her to safety.'
Conti harrumphed at the suggestion. Ponti knew his brother would have laughed instead, were the situation less desperate. The carriage seemed to have hit a rather large pebble at that point, and the keen bump was felt within the passenger compartment. The Mortadella brothers had to hold onto whatever they could to avoid falling. The carriage's two other passengers remained unresponsive, but Ponti feared that another bump like that may jar them awake, regardless of the presence of soporific substances in their bodies. There was then a loud bang on the roof, which caused the two beast-men to jump, but nothing else seemed to have happened.
'Neither reasonable nor at all believable,' Conti said after he had settled down. 'If we truly meant to rescue her highness, then why did we decide to take her with us here instead of taking back her to the Second Fortress?'
Ponti snorted in disgust before again looking around, searching for something – anything – that can help them. All he saw within the carriage implicated them. As he was about to panic as his brother was, he suddenly remembered the rolled-up parchment in his breast pocket. He quickly took it out, removed the golden ribbon that held it together, and unrolled it. It was the royal warrant that allowed them to exit the city and informed other guards within the kingdom and the rest of the Alliance that King Alois blessed whatever business they were up to.
'Why, this, of course,' Ponti said, suddenly finding a reason to be relieved. 'The king has requested the princess to appear before Her Holiness in Ken to plead for aid. We knew this because we were present during the time he gave the order. It was at that time that we received this warrant.'
'A flimsy excuse at best,' Conti said with a snort, 'and one that will be discovered as soon as the princess speaks up.' He paused, turning his gaze towards the sack holding the princess.
'It is good, then, that the princess is in no shape to speak at the moment,' Ponti said. He would have spoken more, but he found himself violently launched forward as the carriage lurched to a sudden stop. He crashed to the compartment's floor, landing on the legs of Princess Prim's handmaiden, while the princess's limp form fell down on him. His heart began to beat with the violence of war drums as his mind quickly discerned the implications of this sudden halt, as well as the neighing, the screams, pleas for mercy, and other sounds he heard from outside.
Ponti and Conti struggled to get up and carried the princess back to her seat, not noticing how she was starting to squirm and move. The sharp sound of shattering glass then intruded upon the compartment, and both brothers turned towards the carriage's left door. They saw an armoured hand and forearm make its way into the compartment through the forcefully-opened window, swat away the curtains that concealed the compartment, and reach into the bar that kept the door shut.
The two could do nothing but watch, frozen in fear, as the bar was removed. Ponti gulped hard as he waited for the inevitable opening of the door. Somehow, he realised that even his flimsy excuses would not save him and his brother this time.
The Roman pursuit of the Mortadellas' carriage was short and almost disappointing. For all of its luxury and the strength of the two-horse team pulling it, the vehicle was obviously not built with speed or nimbleness in mind. Markos's men managed to almost immediately catch up with the carriage within a few minutes, thanks to both its slow movement and the fact that the Komes signalled Gavrilo to abandon his chase of the remaining guardsmen and cut off the carriage's escape from the left and the front with his sixteen koursores while Alicia's Iris Knights approached from the right. Trapped in four directions with little chance of escape, the carriage had no choice but to suddenly halt, and its footmen and driver were forced to draw weapons to defend their masters: two bearing swords and two with bows and arrows.
The fight for the carriage was yet another short affair. Markos ordered a general charge for the carriage before strapping his lance into place and taking out a sling: not a standard weapon for any Roman horseman. He flung a single lead bullet with the sling, aiming for one of the archers. He missed entirely, but his bullet striking carriage's roof caused a bang loud enough to get the archers to seek kneel down and seek cover instead of shooting.
This delay was all Gavrilo's men needed to safely reach the carriage. The Topoteretes personally slew the driver, impaling him in the chest with his lance. Two more footmen decided to jump and flee on foot, only to be intercepted by Gavrilo's koursores and captured, while one surrendered.
The battle was over by the time Markos and Lazar's men reached the carriage, with the Iris Knights still some distance away. Markos, Lazar, and three others of his men dismounted to accost whoever was in the carriage while Gavrilo took charge of protecting it from other possible enemies.
Little did the Romans and Iris Knights know that another force, which belonged neither to them nor to their enemies, was approaching them from the south-west.
From what little time he managed to spend on Eostia, Markos had seen that the new world he was sent to contained things that are exotic and alien to him but could still be recognised for what they were. What few animals he saw and heard through his three treks through the woods were foreign to him, but he still knew that they were birds or reptiles or other such beasts. Many of the plants he saw in the forest of Feoh were also quite exotic, but they still had green leaves and brown trunks and other such qualities of the plant life he was used to. Even the people of this world – the human ones, at least – looked like Latins, had architecture that looked vaguely Latin and spoke a variant of a language from their world, but their culture had some aspects he found questionable.
What he saw Lazar drag out of the carriage followed the trend of the new world containing things that were both familiar and alien.
Like any Roman, the Komes was quite familiar with pigs. Pigs dressed as men, on the other hand, were something else entirely.
Lazar pulled one such pig out by the elbow, causing it to stumble a bit as it got out of its carriage. It rambled on with a voice that surprisingly sounded much like a man, if a bit higher and more nasal, and snorted like a pig in between outbursts that sounded quite like sentences. It was also waving around some piece of parchment with a floral seal at the bottom, which Markos thought might have some significance in this kingdom.
Markos walked towards the pig, who seemed to recognise him as a leader of some sort. It stepped forward, jabbing a fat forefinger – which looked almost exactly like a plump man's hand, save for its pinkish colouration, the Komes noted – at his mailed chest. It again raised its parchment with its other hand and pointed at it repeatedly as it continued its outburst, huffing and snorting all the while.
In response, Markos drew his paramerion and pointed its blade at the pig-man's neck. The creature whined and took a step back, which allowed Lazar to grab its hands and bind them behind its back while another koursor, Ivan, dragged yet another pig-man out of the carriage.
'Are these two the only… people… present in the carriage?' Markos asked.
'There also two sacks present inside, sir,' Lazar said as he and Ivan pushed the two pig-men – the first wearing a rose-coloured coat over a purple tunic and the other a coat of sickly green over yellow – to kneel before the Komes. 'Appearances suggest they contain the princess and another woman.'
'Dryes? You are dryes?!' the second pig-man – the one with the green coat – then exclaimed, its eyes widened with shock.
Markos raised an eyebrow at the creature, having no idea what it meant. However, since it was still far too defiant for questioning, he brought his paramerion's blade into contact with its neck. The pig-man again whined and drew backwards, hopefully understanding that it and its companion were the ones who were supposed to provide the answers.
'Take out these sacks as well,' he told Lazar. 'Open them to reveal whom these two are transporting, but do not cut them completely. The princess and her companion might already be in some undignified state.'
'Sir,' Lazar replied, gesturing towards two of his men to enter the carriage.
'You cannot do this to us!' the first pig-man – who so pretentiously wore the Imperial purple, Markos noted – shouted. 'Our journey has the blessing of his majesty the king! We carry his warrant!'
Ah, so that was what the parchment was for, Markos thought with a silent nod. Still, he pressed his blade ever tighter at the pig-man's neck, which caused it to squirm in place.
'No barbarian king holds authority over the servants of God and His vice-regent the Emperor,' he replied, which only garnered puzzled looks in the pig-men. Naturally, he thought. It would be more surprising if they did know who we are. He then heard the sound of galloping from his right. He looked towards the source of the sound, confirmed who was approaching, and turned back to the pig-men. 'But you are welcome to discuss the validity of your warrant with them.'
He then turned away from the prisoners, leaving them to the care of two of his koursores, and headed to where his men laid the two sleeping women from the carriage.
A searing pain filled Prim's head, getting worse and worse as she slowly drifted into consciousness. She felt like her head was being crushed between two great fists. As her mind struggled to awaken, she felt aches all over her body, her joints flaring up in pain in protest against every twitch and move she attempted. Her eyes remained heavy, and opening them was a great struggle. Her jaw ached, and there was a stinging feeling in her cheeks. Whatever it was she was lying on was hard and unyielding, with a particularly noticeable bump somewhere near the small of her back. She tried moving her arms, which were across her belly, only to find that she could not separate them.
She was bound with ropes and unable to stand.
The memories then came flooding back: she had been kidnapped by the Mortadella brothers, who also took Triss.
She then shot her eyes open as her heart began to pound in fear and agitation. Another flare of pain to briefly ran through her head. She then involuntarily closed her eyes again, dazed as they were by the rush of light, and opened them once more, slowly.
The images Prim saw were blurry at first, only taking clearer shape after a few moment. She saw the open sky, which was beginning to redden as the afternoon crept in. And near the edge of her field of vision was a the form of a man, one with green eyes and fine features, a skirted steel helm of exotic design, and a strange silver tunic that seemed to be made of small beads or rings, held in place by straps across the chest and shoulders.
The princess's eyes widened in fear, her mouth gaping open like a beached fish. Her body froze up as the man knelt down and spoke.
'Despotissa?' he asked softly, his voice almost a gentle whisper. 'Prim Fiorire?'
Prim nodded silently and tersely, but remained on the alert. Her mind, which was dealing with her body's pain, was alarmed by her memories, and was still partly caught in the fog of sleep, was unable to clearly determine how to react to this man. She remained still, unable to respond any more, and staring wide-eyed at the one who was possibly her rescuer or her captor.
It was only when she heard a familiar voice that relief finally flooded the princess's being.
'Prim!' the voice called out. It was a clear, strong voice, like the sound of a bell through thick mists. It was the voice of the princess's dearest elder sister.
Alicia, Prim thought, her eyes starting to tear up. Alicia is here.
Prim… Prim!
Alicia jumped off her horse upon reaching the carriage and led it by the reins. She frantically looked around she got closer to where the Rhomaioi were, searching for any sign of Prim. She saw mounted Rhomaioi facing away from the carriage in front and behind it, their spears pointed forward. She also saw the Mortadella brothers and a liveried footman kneeling with their hands behind their backs, watched over by a pair of spear-armed men. Beside that scene were two more Rhomaioi laying down a large sack on the ground, with Markos – recognisable despite having her back to the princess because of his familiar plumed helm – kneeling in front of another sack beside it. When one of the men cut a portion of the sack open to reveal Triss's face, Alicia understood where Prim is.
She immediately bolted towards Markos, leaving her horse in the care of whoever was beside her.
'Prim!' she called out as she ran, turning the heads of most of the people around towards her. When she reached where he was, Markos immediately stood up, bowed, and gestured with one hand towards the sack.
And there lay Prim, wrapped in rough-spun burlap, with only her head and face visible. She was looking worse for wear, with her hair tousled over her face, and red marks where ropes were once tied visible on her cheeks. Still, she was there, and she was safe. Prim gave the smallest of smiles when she saw her, which was followed by tears flowing down her eyes as she started sobbing openly.
Alicia could feel warm tears flowing down her own cheeks as she found herself kneeling on the ground, her strength seemingly sapped when she saw Prim safe. With great apprehension and with as much care as she would have plucked a rare flower from the field, she touched Prim's shoulders and lifted her up before locking her into a tight hug.
The two cousins remained still for an undefinable amount of time, and the rest of the world seemed to have faded away as they did so. Alicia began openly crying and sobbing at some point, a wave of relief overwhelming her as she held her dear cousin – whom she loved as her own sister – in her embrace, finally certain that she was safe.
'Thank goodness,' the princess of Feoh whispered, gently patting Prim's head with one hand, 'thank goodness you're safe.'
Alicia keenly felt the faint presence of Markos standing nearby, which snapped her back to reality. Still not letting go of Prim, she looked to her left, and there he stood, a respectful few steps from the two princesses, blocking the sunlight.
'I trust her highness the Despotissa Prim Fiorire is well?' he asked, to which Alicia simply nodded.
'Well enough,' she replied. That was when she noticed that the captain was staring not at her, but at Prim. 'Do you see anything wrong, Captain?'
Markos suddenly smarted and turned his gaze back to Alicia. 'Nothing of great concern,' he said, glancing first away, then to the ground, then to his weapons. He then unsheathed his dagger and handed it to the princess by the handle. 'Forgive my presumptuousness, but it may be best to free her highness as soon as possible.'
Alicia slowly broke off from her hug with Prim and took the proffered tool, but she was not completely convinced that it was nothing. She had seen Markos act like that once before, in Feoh, not long after he introduced himself. Shortly after that, she found herself and a group of her knights locked up in the great hall of the First Fortress. The captain was up to something, and she was not particularly comfortable with letting him act out of line again.
'I wish for no further misunderstandings between us, my lord,' she said, her tone as clear and as direct as possible. 'If you have any concerns regarding Prim, you are welcome to speak your mind.'
'It… it truly is nothing important,' Markos insisted. 'It is something we can discuss when we are safe.' He then started to turn away. Whether out of respect for Prim's modesty once she cuts the sack open or simply because he wanted to end this conversation, Alicia did not know. 'For now, I will go to marshal my men. It is best that we leave once you are certain her highness is able to do so.'
'I will take you up on that,' the princess replied before Markos could fully turn away. He then started to walk off towards the Mortadella brothers. Alicia could not help but grimace at the idea of the captain – her supposed ally – not completely telling her the truth again, but she knew what he said was right, regardless of whether or not he completely meant it. There were other enemies out there, and they had little time. With an apology to Prim, she lay her down again and took a cursory glance at the dagger before cutting the sack with it.
'Who… who was that, Sister?' Prim asked as Alicia cut the sack open. 'Why did he speak like an elf?' Alicia briefly stopped to look at her cousin.
'An ally,' she said with a reassuring smile, before standing up. 'He and an army of his countrymen drove the Black Dogs from Feoh.'
The princess of Feoh offered a hand to her cousin, who took it. She then helped Prim as she stood.
'Rhomaioi,' Alicia said as she guided Prim through her first unsteady steps. 'That is what they call themselves. And even I don't know why their language is similar to elvish. They insist that they speak in Romaic or Hellene, depending on whom you ask.'
'What of the man you spoke to?' Prim asked as Alicia offered her shoulder for support. 'The captain?'
'Markos Kalomeros,' Alicia simply answered. She turned to look at the aforementioned man, who was speaking to another one of the Rhomaioi. Arrangements on who would get to drag the prisoners and lead the horses back, she was willing to wager. 'A captain in the army and son of its general. He is valiant and well-meaning, if prone to act without properly telling his allies first.'
Prim nodded and gave a non-committal 'hmph' in response, but she also cast a questioning glance at Alicia. The latter knew exactly what her cousin wanted to know: why she insisted on finding out Markos's concerns.
She was about to say more, but she saw the captain in question moving heading towards them with another one of the Rhomaioi. Alicia knew herself to be good at recognising faces, and she was almost certain this man was not one of the men in Markos's squadron.
'We have received a message from Komes Eirenikos's bandon,' the captain hurriedly said as soon as he and his companion were close enough for conversation. 'The enemies Allagator Kamateros were pursuing have joined with a larger group of horsemen. We are to take the Despotissa Prim and her companion and return with all haste to the rally point.'
What? Alicia thought. She looked at both men questioningly, one after the other. The grim expressions on their faces showed that they were both dead serious.
'We are escaping?' she asked. 'What of the king and queen?'
'We are withdrawing for the moment and reassessing the situation,' Markos corrected. 'We will only fight if victory against the enemy proveth possible. Otherwise, we will have no choice but to escape, to preserve that part of Ur's ruling house we can manage to.'
Alicia scowled at the captain's words. The idea of escaping with the fate of her uncle and aunt still uncertain was a bitter pill to swallow, but she knew it was the only choice they all had. She glanced at Prim, who also seemed to be in shock at what she was hearing, and back towards Markos.
Is this the price I pay for saving Prim? The princess thought to herself. That I will have to break her heart? She again looked at Markos, who also looked as if he too did not like this idea any more than she did. Her gaze then turned to the other man, who might know more about the situation.
Perhaps there is something here we are not seeing.
'These enemies you speak of,' Alicia said. 'How many are they? Were you able to identify whether or not they are Black Dogs? Surely they would not have been able to regain that much strength after their defeat.'
'They do not fly the banner of the Black Dogs, Your Highness,' the man replied. 'We believe them to be locals of Ur in league with these Mortadellas.'
Alicia sighed, again wondering at how deep the Black Dogs' conspiracy went among the nobles of the Alliance. 'I see,' she said. 'Did they fly any banner, then? Has the banner been described to you?'
'Yes, Your Highness,' the man answered. 'I have seen the banner myself: white rays on red.'
The words echoed in Alicia's mind. White rays on red, she thought. White rays on red. The Dawn Templars. But why would they help… Of course.
'They're making a mistake,' she muttered to herself, much to the confusion of the two men she was speaking with.
'I can tell you for certain that those new horsemen are not traitors,' she told Markos. 'They are the Dawn Templars, knights and guardians of the Goddess Reborn.'
'But why would they give aid to the oikeioi of the Mortadella brothers?' the captain asked.
'Because they do not know the Mordatellas as we do,' she answered. 'They do not know of their part in the Black Dogs' conspiracy.'
'And they know not of us as well,' Markos replied with a nod, quickly catching on.
'Indeed,' Alicia said. She then turned again to look at her knights, who mostly remained on horseback and on alert. Her eyes rested at her banner, which Raftela still carried. 'But they know who I am.'
Markos turned towards his companion.
'Go to Gavrilo,' he ordered. 'Tell him to assemble the bandon. I shall be asking for men to accompany me in a mission of utmost importance, but I will only take those who will come of their own free will. They who do not wish to join me may accompany Gavrilo in bringing the Despotissa and the prisoners back to the rally point.'
'Yes, my lord,' the man said, nodding his head once before running off to obey.
'A marking on a banner proveth little,' Markos said as he turned back to Alicia. 'There is a good chance that the bearers of that banner arenot being deceived but are deceivers themselves.'
Alicia faced Markos again, gritting her teeth in a grim frown. She knew they faced traitors and scoundrels, but she did not think that they would carry an enemy's banner. They would not wish to be mistakenly attacked by their own allies, after all.
'I am certain thou plannest some act to correct this supposed deception of the Dawn Templars,' Markos then said, giving Alicia no time to repond. The princess simply nodded. 'I am certain others may call it reckless, though its benefits are great.' He briefly looked at the Iris Knights' banner in imitation of what Alicia did previously.
'And I am certain thou wilt require assistance.'
A group of horsemen rode across the green field towards the Dawn Templars' contingent, many of them shouting and waving their hands or shields in the air.
'Squadron will halt,' Claudia ordered.
'Squadron halt!' Astrid echoed, and the trumpets blared in response.
The Dawn Templars and their yeoman companions halted in good order, giving their exhausted horses some time to catch their breaths.
'So even the vaunted guardsmen of the House of Mortadella can run,' Astrid said as she observed the approaching horsemen, her eyes squinted to see far into the distance.
'Against this foe,' Claudia replied. She paid little attention to the approaching Mortadella men, instead focussing on the horsemen pursuing them. Those groups of horsemen carried multiple banners, but one banner carried by the leading group was the one that caught the commander's attention. It coloured a brilliant red and bore that symbol in gold, the symbol the Goddess warned her about.
So those are the ones we are supposed to face, she thought with a grimace. There were less than a hundred of them riding in two separate groups, and they certainly looked strange: spearmen on horseback with shields shaped like downward-pointing leaves or reversed teardrops, well-armoured with metal helms and coats of a strange material. Their horses seemed slightly smaller than the ones her knights were riding, though that could only be a visual trick of sheer distance. Their banners and the pennants attached to their upward-pointing spears freely fluttered as they rode, a sight that may mesmerise or intimidate a lesser warrior. She remained calm in the face of this approaching enemy, though her sword-hand found its way to the hilt of her sword and gripped tightly.
The Mortadella guards eventually reached the Dawn Templars, stopping in a line less then ten feet in front of the knights and yeomen before turning their horses around and drawing their swords. Only one of the men – the captain, as his red-painted helm attested – rode up in front of the formation. Upon seeing Claudia right beside the banner, he dismounted and knelt on one knee.
'Lady Levantine, Your Grace,' he said. 'The sight of your warriors is a most welcome one.'
'Rise, captain,' Claudia replied. 'Mount your horse, draw your weapon, and tell your men to do the same. Your pursuers may reach us soon.'
The man arose, but he frowned in confusion as he did so.
'You… you know these men, Your Grace?' he asked.
'Admittedly, no,' Claudia answered with a shake of her head. She felt Astrid's gaze on her, but she raised a hand to quiet her even before she could speak. 'But the Goddess did warn me of something like this.' Though her words were more vague than I would have liked, she continued in her mind.
As the captain returned to his horse and started barking orders, Claudia turned to Astrid, who still seemed to have questions for her. Claudia understood what at least some of them were.
'I did not tell you of the Goddess's warning because its meaning was not clear to me at the time,' she said. 'It was not even clear to her. I believe even she has not predicted this outcome, with her vision completely set on Feoh.'
'I see,' Astrid replied with a nod. Their long association together led Claudia to know that her second indeed understood.
'We outnumber those men two to one,' she then said, quickly moving onto more pressing concerns. She again turned away from her second to observe the approaching horsemen. 'And judging by the fact that they are slowing down, they seem to realise that as well.'
'We will advance upon them, then?' Astrid asked.
'We will,' Claudia replied with a nod, still not taking her eyes off the sight of the horsemen. They're stopping, she thought, possibly to regroup. 'Their hostility towards servants of Ur proves that they are enemies of the Alliance. We advance upon them in a wedge formation and deal with them head-on. We can figure out who they are after that.'
'Aye, Commander,' Astrid simply said. The trumpets again sounded to alert the formation of their new orders, and they set about grouping themselves into single solid wedge, with the Dawn Templars at the outer side and the yeomen making up the interior of it. Claudia elected to form the head of the wedge, the banner fluttering behind her, while Astrid and another officer sat at the formation's other edges.
And so advanced Claudia's company, with the Mortadella guards galloping at a line twenty paces before them to act as a screen. The Templars and their companions first moved at a slow trot, with their commander deciding not to drive her squadron's already tired horses to complete exhaustion. They gradually sped to a canter, drawing their swords as they did so, but Claudia decided to only drive her forces to full gallop for the last hundred yards or so.
For their part, the other horsemen seemed to have decided to turn tail as their own trumpets sounded, again deciding to break off into two separate groups. Claudia harrumphed contemptuously at this development, seeing the strangers' ploy for what it is: they intended to break her formation with a feigned retreat and then strike at her from both flanks once the formation was split. Or if she decided not to split her formation and focus her efforts on pursuing one group, the other would strike from the rear before peeling off. Both cowardly ploys, the commander thought, more fitting for use by imps than men.
Claudia knew that the only thing she had to do to deal with a feigned retreat was by baiting her enemies by making them think she was weak. Her plan was to simply slow her squadron down again, back to a slow canter then to a trot, to give the strangers the impression that they are managing to wear the knights down. Such a plan was not to be, however, because the Mortadella guard, either through confidence in their skills, a sheer lack of foresight or simple faith that the Dawn Templars will follow through behind them, have decided to charge straight at one of the two retreating squadrons.
Seeing no other choice, the Shield-Princess sighed, raised her sword, and pointed it forward before giving her order.
'For the Alliance! For the Goddess!' she roared. 'CHARGE!'
The Dawn Templars and their squires and yeomen suddenly sprang to life as their trumpets sounded, like a great beast roused from drowsiness by the scent of blood. The wedge, which previously moved at a leisurely pace to preserve their horses' strength, sped up to full gallop, the knights' swords pointed forward and their shields raised in defence.
It was then that even more trumpets sounded from a distance.
'Commander!' Astrid called out from the rear of the formation. 'More horsemen approaching from the left!'
Claudia turned left, and she indeed saw yet another group of horsemen. It was a smaller group, numbering not more than thirty horsemen, galloping with all speed towards their direction. They rode under a banner whose design she could not clearly tell due to the distance, and some of the riders also carried spears with pennants fluttering just below their iron heads. These newcomers did not seem to be charging at her, the commander noted, but were moving at an oblique angle relative to her position. It was as if they were aiming only for the Mortadellas' guardsmen… Or perhaps aiming to come between them and the fleeing horsemen.
Trumpets sounded again from the left, blasting out a signal Claudia was quite well-acquainted with: the signal to stop and reform. The blast of trumpets was accompanied by another familiar sound that seemed to cut above the rest of the noises of the battle: a lone woman shouting with all her might.
'LADY CLAUDIA! LADY CLAUDIA!'
Claudia raised her sword to signal her knights again, and they again slowed their horses' pace. The voice was familiar to at least some of them, Claudia knew.
'Alicia…?' she muttered. She looked left and again examined the banner, placing one hand above her eyebrow to protect her eyes from the sun's glare. After a few moments of staring at the freely flapping banner, she finally recognised the banner of the Holy Iris Order. But why…?
This is some form of deception, Claudia thought, gritting her teeth. She again prepared to raise her sword and give an order as her Dawn Templars – at least those at the left side of the formation – kept staring at this approaching figure. She looked at the newcomers again. The lead rider frantically waving a hand at the Dawn Templars, as if imploring them to stop. The trumpets behind this rider called for a halt again.
Is that the one who shouted? Claudia thought. She looks nothing like-
Whatever thoughts Claudia had about the rider immediately evaporated when she removed her helmet, revealing long blonde locks that began to be blown about by the wind.
Can that truly be…? Claudia thought as the rider started shouting again.
'LADY CLAUDIA!' she called out, her voice starting to become hoarse. 'LADY CLAUDIA!'
'Squadron, halt!' Claudia suddenly called out, urging her own horse to stop. The rest of the company followed suit at the sounding of their trumpets, with their horses snorting and neighing in relief as their riders looked around in confusion. Claudia herself admitted she no longer knew what was going on. When she looked forward, she saw that one of two groups of horsemen – the one closer to them – had stopped. However, the Mortadella guardsmen either did not hear her order or did not care: they kept charging at the fleeing strangers.
'CAPTAIN!' Claudia shouted at the top of her lungs. 'I ORDER YOU TO STOP! CEASE CHARGING!' The trumpets sounded to drive her order home, but the captain kept pressing forward. The commander hissed out a breath in frustration and was about to order the charge to resume, but Alicia – that it was the princess was undeniable at that distance – arrived at the head of her new companions. The Shield-Princess of Feoh sighed in relief as she spied her at the head of the formation and trotted her horse up to hers, with a few of the strange mounted horsemen following.
'Lady Claudia, so it is you,' Alicia said, a faint smile on her tired-looking face. Claudia could only look on in wide-eyed confusion in return. It was indeed Alicia, the commander was certain, and she also understood why she did not recognise her at the first instance: the thick blue coat and dark trousers she wore alongside her armour obscured much of her form, which made her seem like a man from a distance.
The ever-familiar sounds of battle erupted from the commander's front. Claudia turned to see what was happening. The commander again turned her attention to the princess – formerly her squire – and saw a peculiar look on her face, one she only showed in the heat of battle. She had been fighting only recently, Claudia knew, and not only because of the sweat on her brow or scratches on her shield.
'Despotissa, I must go to aid Komes Eirenikos,' she heard the man beside Alicia tell her in ancient elven.
'Of course,' the princess replied in the same language. Claudia observed as the man led two-dozen horsemen towards the fighting, with Alicia even calling for some of the Iris Knights to join them.
Claudia's gaze turned to the fighting, whose noises dominated the field once more. Even if she did not helplessly watch the fight, she knew that the guardsmen were having the worst of it. She turned towards Alicia, who seemed to pay the noise no mind.
'You will explain that, Princess,' she said with a scowl, pointing her sword towards the battle. 'Has Feoh now sided with enemies of the Alliance?'
The princess remained silent for a moment, eyes widened in open-mouthed shock.
'We- I- No!' she stammered, shaking her head. 'We… we would never do such a thing!'
'Your friends are attacking servants of Ur,' Claudia pointed out. 'And by the looks of it, you want to prevent us from stopping this.'
Alicia's expression changed again upon hearing her former mentor's words, her face set in a grim frown. 'The House of Mortadella and its followers are no true servants of the Alliance,' she said, her voice filled with conviction. 'We have just prevented them from smuggling Prim out of the fortress-city under the cover of rebellion.'
'The Mortadellas? The same beastmen King Alois ennobled despite his nobles' objections and named his royal purveyors?' Claudia asked, nonplussed.
'Yes,' the princess answered, quickly and with a single nod for emphasis. The steely look on her eyes convinced the commander that the princess believed everything she said with every fibre of her being. She is telling the truth as she sees it, she thought.
'What of…' Claudia hesitantly began, looking again at the battle ahead of her. Or what once was a battle, she thought, after seeing the strangers – Alicia's companions, it turned out – round up the dead guardsmen's horses and take the surviving ones' arms and armour. She also saw two men whose helms are topped with what appeared like red locks of long hair speak with each other, one of them pointing towards Alicia and explaining something to the other. 'What of those men?' she finally asked.
'Allies,' Alicia simply said. 'They helped drive back the Black Dogs from Feoh in an attack which, coincidentally, also involved betrayals from the highest places of power.'
Claudia's confused frown turned into a look of concern. From behind her, she could hear her knights whispering amongst themselves on this new revelation. There was, however, little time to ask Alicia to explain further. Three of the strangers approached on their horses, all three having those plumed helms. Officers, perhaps? She thought. She looked at Alicia, who also watched the three approach.
'We intend to wait for the rest of our force before we enter Ur,' Claudia said before the men arrived. 'You and your allies are welcome to join us.'
Alicia nodded. 'I shall inform them of your offer,' she said. 'With the Mortadella brothers taken care of and Prim safe, I believe there is now little reason to be afraid for the lives of the king and queen.'
'I agree,' Claudia replied. 'But as we wait, I want you to tell me about everything that has happened to you so far.'
It was then that the three men reached them and hopped off their horses. Claudia and Alicia did the same as the three marched up to them. The commander noted that the men seemed to be trying to avert their gaze from her, for some reason. As she waited for these supposed allies to arrive, Claudia told the princess one last thing:
'Tell me everything.'
A few afterwords on some things in this chapter. First, Eostian cavalry don't have stirrups because there were horsemen in the text, but they weren't pictured. The prologue also had a throw-away line of mercenaries kicking horses in the stomach to make them go faster, which suggests they lacked the finer control allowed by having stirrups… or that they did have stirrups and they steer their horses differently. After racking my brain about it, I actually just decided on them having no stirrups for consistency since I wrote about Alicia not knowing what they were in an earlier chapter. They're also using swords instead of lances because I only noticed that the game's art did show spearheads after I finished writing this. The game CGs also didn't seem to show any shields (based on those shown on YouTube, at least), so Feoh having round shields and Ur having oval ones are my own invention. Maybe people's shields will differ based on where they live, but that most likely won't be the case.
As for Markos having a sling, I based that on something the Roman historian Arrian supposedly wrote about slings being part of training for Roman horsemen (no real confirmation on that, though). Since he knew about naked Celtic warriors and Amazons, I'd say there might be a chance he skipped lessons (as stated in a previous chapter) to read up on military history or action-adventure stories. He completely missed his sling-shot because that's what I think might happen if you try to use a sling while on horseback.
Also, dryes is now the word for 'elf' in Eostia's old elf language. That is just something I made up since the Greek word for elf originated in the Byzantine Empire and literally meant 'outlandish' or 'outsider' or something similar. I don't think elves would call themselves that, so I took the word dryad and made up a (wrong) plural form for it.
Janny092: And good to see you again too. Only hilarious misunderstandings and some fighting in this chapter, though. Claudia has met them now; reactions to follow. Chapters often take up to 30 minutes before they show up, in my experience, but I did re-upload the previous one several times just to be sure.
Perseus12: Nobles and high-ranking prisoners are far too valuable for summary executions like that immediately after being captured, unfortunately, especially with the Byzantines being the savvy political animals they are. What punishments the traitors will get will follow once the situation has settled down.
Ironwall: Pork is actually a staple element of Roman cuisine during their Byzantine period and was supposedly served alongside resin-spiced wines, goat cheese and stinky fish sauce. Their pigs most likely didn't talk or dress in purple, though.
Mad God 42: Been a while indeed. I've already used Greek fire in the Battle of Feoh, so yes, I also plan on using it for the naval battles I really want to write in.
zaelanizaelani99: Thanks for telling me. It showed up well on my end after my first upload, but I re-uploaded the chapter several times just in case.
DeepCFisher: I think grounding the more ridiculous sexual elements is inevitable if I want to write something believable. Omegas Prime's The Irregular featured a good excuse why the heroines' armour looked like that, which is something I wish I thought of first.
KodokSangar: The heroes dealing with the Black Dogs using tactics and planning and all that fun stuff is one of the ideas behind the story, yes. There hasn't been much of that for now since both armies don't know each other yet. Think of this part of the story as the 'blind date' part of the war, where neither side knows exactly how the other fights so easy Byzantine victories can still be possible. Things might be different after the first few dates, though. As for the politics thing, the Byzantines are no stranger to messy political shenanigans themselves. By the time of this story's setting, the Byzantines had just come out of a century-long dark age of backstabby conspiracy goodness, a desperate defence of the empire from Norman invaders, and a conspiracy by the current emperor's sister and mother to replace him as emperor even before he ascends to the throne. They're currently in the middle of a restoration, though, and they're doing better at my Medieval II playthrough than they did historically thanks to me taking full advantage of game mechanics.
Miko 56: He is, from his mother's side. He would have been even more Norman if I did a bit more research on geography (his family name is de Brienne because I thought Brienne-le-Chateau is in Normandy). He would have also previously served the French king despite his family's county being under the domains of the king of England because he's a younger son and chose the adventuring life in the Holy Land, which turned into serving the Roman emperors in Constantinople.
Guest: Thank you. The story will continue until I get new ideas for the next Settra chapter, as always. Using the Byzantines in Stainless Steel is much more fun than in vanilla thanks to access to more decent infantry. As a bit of advice, though, don't try to match Mongol horse archers with your own horse archers, and use your mourtatoi to the fullest. Also, I changed the names of some units from the game in this story with names that should still be historically accurate but are more descriptive: I renamed the stratiotae ('soldiers') into koursores ('raiders'), the cavalarii ('horsemen') into hippo-toxotae ('horse archers'), and the mourtatoi ('renegades'; actually showed up after 1204) into the more generic 'toxotae' ('archers'). I also made use of the letter k more than c to sound more eastern, in a way.
And that should be it for now. As always, let me know what you think. Next time, the entire 'save the damsels' arc ends for now to make way for the next order of business: politics. Oh joy. Or maybe I'll not move to chapter 10 and sneak in a chapter 9.5 about what Stephanos and the rest of the Byzantine high command are up to in Feoh. I may even get to finish the other story's next chapter first, which I hope I can.