Border Of The Khergit Khanate

Count Rafard groaned and opened his eyes, nearly dead from the harsh journey these 'Saderans' put him through. The lands of Calradia seemed to have stretched longer than he had thought. But he was never one to travel often, so... first time for everything.

It was night, and he could see the glow of his captor's campfires across from him. Most of the guards were asleep, the closest one near the cages snoring louder than the others. Hanging off the guard's belt he could see the keys, but it was out of reach, there was no chance.

"My lord!" A hushed voice caught the count's gaze. It was another prisoner. He turned, and crawled towards the cage to his right, "My lord, are you well?"

Rafard squinted, strained his ears to hear the voice more clearly, and peeked through the bars of his cage to see one of his retinue awake. He sat in disheveled armor, stripped of his chainmail but left in rags with his red tabard on. Still, he was a fine warrior, and still looked as if he had the vigor for another fight.

"Heinrich?" Rafard whispered back, "Is that you? Do you know where we are?"

"Not that I know of, my lord." He leaned in closer, his orange bangs coming into view, "These lads are odd. First there are flying beasts, giants, and banners that no one has ever seen before! I saw a man conjure fire from his own hands-"

The snoring guard shifted in his sleep, moving his head, but remained unawakened. They paused their conversation until they both knew they were in the clear.

"Whoever they are… these 'Saderans' my lord, we must be wary when facing them."

"Try not to dwell too much on it Heinrich. If we're still alive, there's a chance they'll hold you all for ransom as well."

The household guard shook his head, "Not me I'm worried about, my lord. It's you."

"Me? No. If their word is true, I will be safely accommodated until a ransom is discussed. Whatever happens Heinrich, you save yourself and your family-"

Heinrich cut him off and gave out a feeble sigh, "Ahh, an easy job for any other man, but I saw my family's bodies when we were passing Ehlerdah… I failed them. But I won't fail you. These foreigners hit us hard, I doubt they're the types to keep prisoners."

Rafard took his words in remorse. Heinrich was a good man. Quiet and attentive, speaking only when it was deemed necessary. If anything, he'd be a good knight fighting in Harlaus' guard rather than serving a young count like himself. And now he was filled with shame, Rafard could tell that the death of his love and family brought him to a point where death is a simple release now.

"I failed you." The count breathed, "I understand your pain. But a man like you shouldn't fragrantly lay down his life for someone like me."

"No my lord, you did all that you could. What matters in the end is that you tried. I've fought under cowards and feeble commanders before. The work you did to ensure our safety was far more honorable than any other leader I've seen." He said, a coy smiling curling on his lips, "Relax and worry not, you did good… The heavens watch over you."

"Thank you… Heinrich." Rafard muttered.

Easing his tightened shoulders, he sat back from the bars of his cages, pondering.

"What have you seen over the march Heinrich? Or at least heard of?"

"They took fiefs closest to the Khergit realms. I couldn't tell what any of them were saying, but I heard them try to pronounce the names of the Sarranids and the Khergit Khanate. They must be putting up a hell of a fight because from what I've heard, they say their names with fear and anger." His wary eyes lit up, "And the Vaegirs! They seem to be getting close from what I've seen. A wounded bastard was carried pass my cage with a bodkin arrow in his thigh. Only Vaegir fletchers could craft a dark and swift arrow like that. There's still hope, my lord."

He chuckled, "The kingdoms in the east eh? Who knew they'd be the ones to put up a fight in Calradia."

"It is very good. And soon, my lord, we'll be marching them out of our lands soon enough. It looks like Dhirim is still holding true and strong, the lion banner still waves in the morning."

"Good… I just hope Elys took a ship to Balion."

"I'm sure my lady will find safety there, they only seem to come from the-"

Shouting cut his words short and caught the two Swadian's gaze. Saderan guards had began to wake, mounted officers riding into view and dutifully scorning the sleeping guard for his procrastination.

They made sure to hide themselves in the darkness, making sure the officers would not see them awake.

"Well, I guess we must put our conversation at a standstill, Heinrich." Rafard whispered, "If we get out of this, you will be honored greatly. I swear it."

Heinrich nodded, "Just rest now, my lord. If we do live, tell me how good the tent they gave you was eh?"

Ibiran

"You best watch yourself when around my lord, he isn't in the best of moods."

The Swadian guard held the torch high, lighting the night as he led a small band of horsemen through the camp, passing by silent tents that would sometimes sound off with the coughs and sneezes of sleeping footmen.

The guard was a straggler that could've joined the defense at Dhirim, but he chose to ride as fast as he could to Delinard to relay information on what the enemy was like. A wise choice, for none had come after his arrival.

"I'm guessing its the logistics, no?" The mercenary at the front said, voice muffled by his winged great helm.

"You could say that." The guard replied, "He was also late to Harlaus' call. They marched too early to Amere while he was still collecting as many men as he could. I say its convenient that he was late, but he still blames himself. He just hopes he'll be able to break the assault force at the right time."

"Do you think he will?"

"Oh I've seen our knights tear through their lines, no problem!" He chuckled, "But those beasts… those… demons they have are the real terror. I saw one of them hurl a boulder at our lines, as if the monster itself were a catapult. Cut through ten men and a horse, it was bloody."

"Beasts you say?"

"Oh yes! Tall as the trees, strong, and fat. They have wyverns as well! I didn't believe it till I saw it with my own eyes. Nasty bastards."

Such words irked the mercenary. Men he could kill and imprison, but real wyverns and giants? He had never encountered those before, and to confront one now sounded like a death sentence.

The mercenary was a little more hesitant to ask for a contract after hearing the guard's words when they arrived at the tent. But with the Count still marching on with no sign of surrender, he convinced himself that there was at least some hope to be savored.

Besides, who knows how revered the company would be if they did take down one of these 'beasts'.

There was nothing wrong with trying, no?

"My lord!… My lord if you may… please wake up!" A voice whispered.

Delinard didn't know if it was from the stress, but the headaches were getting harsher.

Groaning, he sat up from his unkempt bed, riddled with the sweat of restless nights. Being a marshal gave him experience in raising an army close to that of his king, but doing it alone while a cloud of shame darkened his mind, proved to be nearly impossible. He swore he collapsed while planning his attack, dream or not, this was surely driving him insane little by little.

Then the sound of his guard entering his tent nearly startled him. He exited his bedroom chamber with a frown and nearly lashed out at the guard until he saw the man standing behind him.

A mercenary, armored in cuir boulli with his great helm held between his arms, waiting for a contract to fight under his banner. He knew who this man was, an enemy and an ally.

"Count Delinard," The mercenary greeted, "I am Roland Hawkwood of the Saxifrage Company, son of Raymond Hawkwood."

"Company of the Saxifrage eh?" Delinard mused. He walked from his chamber and to the table, taking a loud sip from a wine cup, "I Thought I'd see you fighting with the enemy?"

He poured a cup for Roland, who refused, and then signaled for the guard to fetch his papers.

On the other side of the tent, Roland could see that a map was sprawled over a smaller table, tattered with torn corners. His noble sword was left unsheathed, left on the floor as if it were a useless toy. Looking closer, he saw little chips in the blade, which then explained the cuts and scars riddled all over in the wooden wardrobe.

He must've had a fit after hearing about Amere Roland thought.

The Swadian marshall noticed Roland's observation, "Forgive me for this mess. But gathering an army alone is far more difficult than I thought… especially when you are late to your king's call. The shame in me might as well become my own demon… I am guessing you're here for work yes?"

"Of course, I've heard of the contract, double the price. I already see that the White Company and several warbands ride with you."

"Hmm, I guess this is the first time seeing us Swadians desperate eh?"

"I do remember Count Klargus scrambling for troops when he was marshal. Word went around that he tried paying the forest bandits good money to bolster his forces."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if you see that happening with me. What I have now is half of what my king sported during his march to Amere, perhaps even less." Delinard got up, regained his lordly composure, and went to sheathe his sword. "I must rely on wit and luck now. No more can I rely on the numbers of my men with every death now counting as a major loss."

"So why still march on?"

"I've yet to hear an official surrender from my king. So long as he fights on, I will too." Delinard said, "He's kept whats left of his army in the defense of Dhirim. They're holding it well, but they won't last."

"How do you know that? I'm sure you saw me at the siege of Dhirim during the war with the Nords. Three waves you repelled. I actually think one of you managed to get a cut on me."

"Ooh but these invaders are far different from measly Nords and mercenaries." Delinard spoke with trepidation, setting his sword on the table, "They're fighting on all fronts and winning, Roland. Just now I heard they captured a Nord fief, marched into Reyvadin without a single hint of resistance, and now they surround Dhirim. Their numbers are far more than all of Swadia's forces combined-they can camp near Dhirim for as long as they like. Sometimes I fear that the heavens favor them over us."

Roland stood silent. This war, no, conquest, was surprising him every hour. First he hears of a large mobilization of the Swadian army that was defeated within hours, the tales of these fantastical creatures with them, and now the rapid progress this army was making. Actually, it seemed as if there were several armies taking the land.

"So what do you plan to do? Because you speak of these people as if they've already won the war."

"Do you take me for a weak-minded marshal Roland?" Delinard chuckled, "You're a good commander, and I respect you but a mercenary is a mercenary. What makes you think I'd give my plans away so easily?"

"Because I am here, Count Delinard." Roland leaned in closer, "I came not just because of the price but to bring the Saxifrage name back to its former glory. It is not like it was before now."

Delinard looked at him with suspicious eyes, "How many men do you sport?"

Roland hesitated, but answered nonetheless, "Eighty."

"Eighty!?" The count snapped, "But I thought the Saxifrage were more than five hundred?"

"Times have changed my lord, a few have retired and gone home to their families and now live easier lives. The rest have long since passed away."

Though, he really hung those that gave the Saxifrage name a bad reputation, reducing the manpower of the company greatly. The sadists and rapists that tainted the company's name were growing like a disease, sometimes they'd ignore or go against Roland's orders.

Eventually he found out that a group was plotting to overthrow Roland himself to install their own savage rules. To make the company more free, less discipline and more frenzies, more plundering and pillaging.

He had them hung of course, executing nearly half of the company that showed signs of support for the traitors. But fearing another mutiny, the last few were hung, drawn, and quartered, brought into agonizing pain to show a clear sign of what would happen if a soldier were to turn against Roland. He made sure that savage mindset would burn and turn into ashes. As long as he lived, he would stay in command.

Delinard swept away the severity of Roland's small company and took another sip, "Well, at least you've brought men."

"So does this mean my sword is now yours? Or shall I join the enemy in hopes of a higher price?"

"Yes yes, you're marching with us now Roland! I've told the other commanders their orders, so you may need to ready your men by tomorrow." Delinard said, exasperated. He laid his sword on the ground, plucked a feather, and began to evaluate his plans to the mercenary, "I wish to flank the camps that surround Dhirim with my cavalry. Hopefully the enemy perceives my army to be bigger than they thought and sound off a retreat which is why I'm hiring companies by the day. But I must be sure also, they could repel my attack easily if I'm not careful."

"So you'll catch the enemy by surprise? How can you do that when most of your army is comprised of footmen? You'll be marching slow with only a few knights cutting through their lines."

"I will march to Dhirim with the most experienced Swadian horsemen there are, two thousand of them, some are stragglers from Amere. Infantry will advance on the enemy after the first few charges, archers will throw volleys before charging in as well. But I will be splitting the force. The smaller second 'army' will march through the mountain passes of the Rhodok kingdom and flank the enemy from the south. With no delay, we shall arrive on Monday, that is when we charge."

"And this second army is comprised of?"

"The mercenaries. And now your men as well." Delinard said, "You've made the journey before, I'm sure of it. Of course you being mercenaries, I cannot trust that you will fulfill my order completely. So Sir Hegen will supervise you lot with a hundred fine Swadian warriors."

"Sir Hegen? The survivor of Tulbuk's passage?"

Delinard nodded, "Yes, and he knows how deceitful you lot can be. The manpower may not be enough to ward you off should you decide to betray us, but it will be enough to escape and send word that you became backstabbers to the Kingdom of Swadia. Whether or not we survive this invasion, history will at least remember you as deserters."

"If anything, my lord, most lads here I'm sure are truly fighting for their land. Take it from a mercenary himself. We may fight for the highest bidder, but these invaders have no claim to the Calradian land, and we'd be no better than careless outlaws to follow foreign forces that seek to change our way of life."

"I hope you are right Roland, because this… it is a thin layer of ice I've set my trust upon."

Dhirim

King Harlaus sat warily at the end of the dinner table, surrounded by the surviving nobility. The rich wine cups and illustrious silver plates of food that once warmed the hall was now thrown away for dim candles and wrinkled maps ever since their arrival a week ago.

His counts and nobles, the ones that survived that failure of a battle at Amere, quietly exchanged plans and faint words with each other, silently desperate.

"…And what of Count Montewar's presence? I rode beside him at the march-why is he not accounted for?" Harlaus inquired to the sitting Counts.

Count Devlian, whose right eye was covered in bandages, responded, "He rode to Tilbaut Castle instead of Dhirim. There was… erm, a pigeon that came with note saying that he was besieged as of now. The invaders stormed the castle within hours. The few stragglers that came in yesterday reported that he had died with his men in a church, fighting under a cross."

The room filled itself with a grieving silence, each man turned uncertain after Devlian's report.

It was not common for a Count to die within weeks after a war began, usually it was a few months in. Even then, commanders and nobles alike would only be taken for prisoners should they have been defeated in the field.

Harlaus leaned forward, "Why would he do such a thing?"

"Tilbaut was his home, I think a man like him preferred to die by what he loved after witnessing such a defeat. My best guess is that he took whatever stragglers he could find and attempted to distract the invader's vanguard before they could reach our main force."

Sitting across from Devlian, Klargus let his fist drop onto the table, causing the candles to clink. He lowered his head and sighed, quietly praying for Montewar's safe passage to the heavens under his lips.

"They already have a valuable prisoner, killed a nobleman, took several of our fiefs, and routed somewhat half of our army." Count Deglan said, divulging most of what the Counts were aware of, "We united perhaps one of the most largest armies in Swadia's history yet we still were defeated! An entire force like that, gone!"

"Gods… and we've yet to even figure their names out." Devlian grumbled, exasperated."Err… how many men do we have defending Dhirim as of now?"

"There is enough." Klargus reported, "We're still counting but each wall is manned with a good amount of fighting men. The townspeople also have decided to take up arms as well. But it's the morale and willpower that worries me."

Count Tredian spoke, "We mustn't forget the mindset of our troops. Those invaders may have more horrible tricks up their sleeves-I just know it. Maybe even more terrifying than what we saw back at Amere."

"Anything capable of deterring those things?" Count Meltor inquired, a slight hint of fear in his words.

"We have ballistae and Geroian Fire stationed at the main entrance." Klargus implied, "But the rate of fire could be abysmal."

Devlian looked on with a confused eye, "Geroian Fire?"

"There was a visitor from Geroia. The scholar told me that a fleet of Sea Raiders tried their hand at taking one of coastal towns. But, and within minutes, they were warded off by a mechanism that spewed fire which burned hotter than the devil's breath." He gave a wolfish grin, reminiscing, "An arrogant and annoying man, but even the nordic savages themselves told of their retreat. Entire fleet decimated by a few hundred guards."

"Geroian engineers, the finest…" Harlaus muttered.

"And since Dhirim is seen as the first priority in most wars, I thought that maybe these would be more effective against battering rams and other siege engines."

Harlaus joined in on finishing Klargus' words, "So Klargus and I paid a few craftsmen from Geroia. They made and trained a few squads that would use the mechanism to set battering rams and siege towers alike aflame. Perhaps, these machines can set those horrible lurching demons they have on fire."

"So we'd be sending them back to the depths of the underworld," Tredian chuckled, "That means we are doing the work of the heavens!"

The entire table chuckled along Tredian's sentence. Each man nodded at Harlaus with inspired smiles.

"Our king, gentlemen!" Devlian raised a hand, "Working on the safety of our people and fiefs even when it was never necessary! Hail King Harlaus!"

"Hail King Harlaus!" They chanted in unison, pounding their fists at the table.

It was a good sight, a relieving one. But, it still felt like a hollow attempt to lighten the mood rather than inspire the entire nobility to keep fighting. And Harlaus saw that, for he had seen many tones of a cheer. From a fake cheer to keep a small light of encouragement in one another, to a true one that lit a bright flaming desire of loyalty and valor for their king, their people, their nation, and their own honor.

"Thank you all, thank you." Harlaus solemnly smiled, pride in his thanks. Then his voice deepened, sharp and stern, "But we must not forget what we are up against. As of now, there will be no more feasts. Not until this war is over. I have lived a long life sitting in Praven, feasting upon buttered pork and greasy chicken legs, sitting idly by as a war goes on, leaving… leaving the harsh duties to my Marshall. I… will not live that life no more."

Klargus, Devlian, Meltor, and several others nodded to his weighty words. Mostly because what he had said was true, and they were glad that he acknowledged those acts of procrastination.

The king continued on, speaking among the quiet crackling candles as his voice echoed in the stone keep, "You all bare families, loved ones, and homes, so if you wish to, you are free to ride back to them through the passages with your retinue. Me and those who have chosen to stay will sally out, and we will fight till we are done. It is my final decree should our fall be seen…"

He moved back from his chair, taking his golden crown off the table as he stood. His fingers squeezed tight on it, feeling the old gold and the burdens he unknowingly carried with it stabbing into his skin.

"I see now that I was no good king. So let this be my punishment: to die not in Praven, but in the heat of hell. I do not expect a standing ovation from you all, not a gift nor a compliment. I ask this not as your king, but as a friend. I only wish… I only wish for your forgiveness…"

Expecting the nobles to leave at his permission, he starkly returned to his chair, tossing his crown back on the table, caring little for the golden piece of headwear.

Devlian was the first to stand, looking nervously around before confidently straightening his posture. He stepped away from the table, and towards Harlaus.

The king wondered what his Vassal would say, or what gesture he'd make. Insult or not, he would understand why, and held his compulsions low.

He said nothing to Harlaus, nor did he slander him with a disrespectful gesture.

Instead, he knelt before him.

Klargus stood from his chair as well, standing tall and brave.

"To die by your side, my liege!" He shouted, "Would be the highest honor of all! All… All hail King Harlaus!"

The good men all around the table, never faltering, stood, and cheered his name with bold loyalty. They placed their fists on their chests, some pulled their swords out and raised it into the air.

"King Harlaus! King Harlaus! King Harlaus!"

Suddenly, the cheering stopped. The doors creaked open, louder than the cheering.

A watchmen from the wall stood in the entrance out of breath. The guards pulled their swords out and pointed their spears. But the tension was eased when Harlaus raised a palm.

"Your Majesty! My lords!" The Watchmen spoke with a smile, "The kingdom of Vaegirs have heard our call! Boyar Khavel rides with three hundred men, ready to fight along side us!"

The nobles shared glances struck with confusion and awe. Did this truly mean they had a chance?

"There is hope!" Devlian began, and pumped a fist in the air, "The heavens are still standing with us!"

At those words, the hall exploded into a flurry of cheers, hugs, smiles, and chants.

Rivers of Curaw

The day was cold, as always.

Every step took a breath out of Dagfinn Christensen, marching knee high through this winter wasteland. His fur boots crunched deep into the snow, sometimes he'd fell patches of ice fall into the inside of his shoes, stinging his already icy skin. Gods, he hated the land of the Vaegirs, it was no wonder his King Ragnar waged war with them, the bastards brought the cold with them everywhere they went!

His father's sword dangled from his back, bow and arrow held in red hands. He swore, this morning, after that dreadful raid those foreigners did to his village, that he would return his father's sword, and he would fight alongside him once they were freed.

He followed the tracks, using whatever experience he had in tracking deer to hunt the men that imprisoned his father.

Plans were concocted over and over again in his mind.

Brute force was out of the question. He knew his way around a sword, his father taught him, but he was well-aware that he was still a scrawny young boy and was outnumbered a thousand-to-one.

Perhaps he could infiltrate their camps at night? No, there'd be more sentries at night.

A distraction would work. But just what or who would be the distraction?

It was then he heard the sounds of shouting and the bellows of orders, he'd soon find a very helpful distraction.

Whereas one would hide and wait till the sounds of the enemy would die out, he trudged towards it, hesitation replaced with curiosity. It grew louder, with the sound of water splashing, a river.

He came to a clifftop, seeing the vast expanse of the Vaegir snow, the mountains that bordered Khergit Khanate realm standing high. A dark river stretched far and beyond, with the foreign invader's camps set right next to it.

Rafts were built and sent over, with squads of those same legionaries that imprisoned his father being ferried on to the other side.

Where are the Vaegirs? Did they already surrender? He thought to himself, and would not be surprised if they did surrender.

Opposite of where the foreigners camped, movement in the treelines caught his eye. A figure approached. Then a dozen more people approached from the treelines, then a hundred, and soon there were a thousand taking position. The front was carrying bows, hiding behind a hill. The rest carried kite shields, long spears, and bardiches. He realized now that there was no pennant or flag to be seen flying over this army. But when a few heavy armored horsemen appeared behind this army of soldiers, holding a few pennants and a single banner with a dancing tiger high, he saw that it was a Vaegir banner.

This was good.

There was going to be a battle

Unhun Castle

"Hey... hey!"

Rafard's groaned, softly mumbling, "What is it Heinrich?"

He waited for a response, but not a word came to him in Swadian.

"Prisoner! I said get up!"

A baton struck against his cage, springing him awake. His eyes snapped open, and he could see his cage surrounded by guards and two other individuals. One the guards was the same one that was asleep before. The other was a translator, the last was another sort of lord, a purple cape covering his back with jewelry embezzling his clothing. Red ruby eyes looked down on him as if he were cattle, his blonde hair brighter than gold.

The blonde laughed, and pointed at him as if he were a form of entertainment.

"Do you not know who you're talking to?!" Rafard spat, "Your lord has promised me a tent until a ransom is discussed! Release me from this wretched cage this instant! And where are my men?"

The richer man looked on with a face of disgust until the translator relayed Rafard's words to him, which then he laughed even harder.

No... this was not how a lord was to be treated as a prisoner, and they didn't answer his question.

He slammed his fist against the cage's door, "Damn you! Where are my men!?"

"By Emroy..." The blonde smirked, "This barbarian doesn't even know when to kneel before a prince. He'll be a fine representation of the people in this wretched world. Take him! Father must see what they are like."

"Curse you..." The Swadian swore, "Heavens curse you! Tell me where my men are!"

But the blonde never answered, it didn't even look like he acknowledged what Rafard was saying. The only response he was given were the guards opening the door, restraining him, and a baton that knocked him out cold.

Well, happy new years everyone, I hope you all are in one piece after 2021, because now we'll have to brave through 2022 and its rambunctious events that await us. Or maybe it will be more relaxing than these past two years but, in my opinion, I find that unlikely.

So no, I will not be rewriting, I'm actually gonna continue off this story, I just took a lot of time with this chapter because it's where we are introduced to original characters. Several of them went through different renditions and drafts, especially with Roland and the Saxifrage Company, until I thought they were perfect. Or maybe not, let me know what you guys think of these characters, because I'm not even done introducing the others yet. Also, if you're wondering what "Geroia" is, it's a land beyond the Khergit Khanate realms that will serve to be a sort of Italy/Byzantine sort of kingdom in own headcanon, there will actually be some characters hailing from Geroia too.

Sorry for the wait too, this was like 5 months since the last chapter? Christ I need to make up my mind. Hopefully the future ones will be easier to crank out.

Follow/Favorite if you wish. Reviews are greatly welcomed, especially ones that have a few criticisms and tips on how to improve this story because I know FOR SURE, this could be pretty boring. I'll try not to make it boring though!