Chronicles of Espiria Season 2

Episode 2 – The Strength of Lord Lanward

Written by Stormrider

Lord Lanward sat atop his horse in a clearing on a hill, both outfitted in the shining armour of the Lanward family. He was surrounded by his personal bodyguards, each fitted in similar armour minus the family crest, each armed with a poleaxe and a dwarven pistol. Oweing to his position as the patriarch of a strong military family, as well as his surprising gift of troops to the royal army, he had been placed in a leadership position not far below General Estrilda and a little above Commander Hogan. With that rank came command over a sizeable portion of the royal army.

This day, he was approached by his Lieutenant, a tall, athletic man with dark hair and innumerable freckles, with a report.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Lord Lanward asked.

"Sir, we've encountered a small group of Hypogean forces. I believe it's part of the larger group that defeated us earlier. I suspect they're sitting out in the open to draw us into another trap."

Lanward frowned as he considered the report. "Attack them while their numbers are small."

"A...Are you sure, sir?" the Lieutenant asked, uneasy.

"I cannot allow them to defeat us again." Lanward answered, mostly calmly. "Attack while their numbers are small."

"Y...Yes, sir." the Lieutenant responded. He passed the order along to the other soldiers with him, then they moved out, leaving Lord Lanward and his guards on the hill from which he expected to command his troops. Watching the soldiers march off, he thought about the last time he had seen one of his sons marching from home.

It was before the fall of the Barred Gate. He was at home seeing to some unfortunate family business when his second born, Bartholomew, came home for a visit. Like his elder brother Lucius, he was a tall, broad shouldered young man, with the sides and back of his head shaved, but letting the top grow freely so it cascaded around his head like a waterfall. Like the rest of the family, he had blonde hair and golden eyes, and he covered the scars of battle with gleaming armor embosed with the family crest wherever they could find space for it.

Bartholomew enjoyed a successful military career, partly because he began his service in the prestigious 3rd royal cavalry, instead of at the bottom as the Raynes always had. He had proved himself a skilled warrior and a decent leader, though not on the level of Commander Hogan; still, his noble birthright and strong work ethic allowed him to ascend the ranks quickly, earning himself an impressive chestful of medals and honors, many of which were well deserved. Despite a streak of rudeness and a tendency to discriminate against those of common birth, he was well liked by his fellow soldiers and wholey loyal to king and country.

Lord Lanward was pleased to see him; he placed most of his hopes in the future of the family in Bartholomew, since his youngest son Alistair had so little ambition, and his eldest Lucius was more interested in the priesthood than the military. He was comfortable showing affection to his second born son, sharing a connection that was rare among much of the nobility. With greetings aside, they walked the halls of Lanward Manor and discussed Bartholomew's reason for returning.

"Father, is it true? What happened to Jeffrey Augustin?"

"It is." Lord Lanward replied. "Caught in a fire at one of his family's summer escapes. I understand it was painless; the smoke suffocated him in his sleep."

"I know Alistair was close to him." Bartholomew said thoughtfully. "How is he taking it?"

"Like a good Lanward. You would be proud of him."

"Those two were always getting into some trouble or other." Bartholomew observed with a slight smile. "I heard he had recently been trading with the dwarves. How did he manage that?"

Lord Lanward was suddenly more defensive. "I never asked. I was too pleased to see that he had found something he was good at. Striking a deal with the dwarves is no easy feat."

"My sources tell me that he had purchased weapons from the dwarves, to equip a personal army for reasons unknown." Bartholomew wanted to hear his father debunk these rumors.

"Not a personal army, but a militia." Lord Lanward answered. This was a question he had feared would come for some time, and so he had rehearsed his response to it nightly; he only hoped it wouldn't come from his son. "Ranhorn's army is strong, but so are the forces of our enemies. We are surrounded nearly on all sides by Maulers and Graveborn; if they were to attack in force, I do not believe that the army could repel them. I am simply building a backup plan in case the worst should come to pass."

Bartholomew could hear how rehearsed and disingenuous the answer was. Why his father had done this, he was still unsure, but he was more hurt and confused as to why it was kept such a secret, even from him. The rest of his visit was unusually quiet, and when he left, the goodbye they shared was colder than usual.

After the fall of the Barred Gate, Lord Lanward donated his militia to the king to fight the Hypogeans, silencing his potential critics who might accuse him of treason and, perhaps, making amends to his favorite son.

His thoughts about the past were interrupted when three of his troops approached him. His Lieutenant was bleeding from one arm and one leg, his hair partly burned off by Hypogean fire. He was supported by the other two, whose armour had taken quite the beating in their own right.

"Sir, it was a trap." the Lieutenant reported in a weak voice. "We're fighting as best we can, but I see no way to win without heavy casualties. What should we do?"

"Press the attack." Lord Lanward answered. "We can outlast the demon scum, so long as we keep fighting."

"May I remind you, sir, the men cannot take much more of this." the Lieutenant pleaded. "The casualties will be incalculable, even if we win."

"I cannot afford another loss!" Lord Lanward's eyes glittered with contempt. "I promised results, and that is what I shall deliver! As for you, it is your sworn duty to obey my orders and protect this kingdom! Those are my orders; press the attack! Take no prisoners!"

Seeing that Lord Lanward was in no mood to be reasoned with, the Lieutenant sighed and had the men carrying him leave him behind while they passed the orders along.

An hour later, the battle was over. There were a few Lightbearer soldiers left, exhausted and in no mood to celebrate their victory; the Hypogeans, on the other hand, had all been wiped from the field. The field was scorched by Hypogean fire, slick with both human and demon blood, unnaturally silent, as Lord Lanward rode onto the field with his bodyguards in tow. He had difficulty guiding his horse through the field because of the bodies that littered it. As he surveyed the scene, the surviving troops turned their attention to him, hoping to hear a reminder that their sacrifice had been worth it.

"Well done!" Lord Lanward shouted. "The Hypogeans have been eradicated, and you have become the most powerful force in Esperia! These enemies are new and dangerous, and driving them back has not been easy, but we have done it!"

The survivors seemed unimpressed by the speech, particularly from one who could not be bothered to participate in the battle. He simply allowed the medics and healers to do their tasks as he placed his injured Lieutenant in command and turned toward Ranhorn.

"I must return to Ranhorn and inform the King of my success." he said to himself. "If this is what it takes to achieve victory, then so be it."