Horizon of War Series

Chapter 210: The Dark Horse

The Dark Horse

Lansius

A rising commotion spread through the camp as the two airships drew closer. The captured people, inside and out on the field, erupted into panicked murmurs and frantic whispers, their voices trembling with disbelief. Wide-eyed gazes locked onto the sky, where two black, gargantuan shapes seemed to materialize from nowhere, emerging ominously through the clouds. Their immense forms plowed steadily forward, descending with an imposing grace. One was already dropping lower, looming directly overhead.

"Find an empty spot to our rear and wave my banner!" Lansius instructed his guards. One of them readily complied, signaling the bannerman to follow him. More joined as they moved, each of his personal guards no less than a ranking officer, capable of issuing commands.

With that settled, Lansius turned his attention to the airships as they descended. For the first time in a long while, he felt vulnerable.

What if they aren’t on our side?

He knew how powerful airships could be, especially with their crude but effective naphtha bombs. Like any weapon, what he could wield against others could just as easily be turned on him.

The need for anti-air defenses was becoming undeniable.

"Mm, maybe something like a Korean hwacha?" he mused, recalling the ancient multi-launch devices.

Still, he suspected that mage knights could likely hurl large spears like harpoons, much like fishermen hunting whales. A few well-placed holes in an airship’s balloon would be enough to unnerve the crew. The challenge lay in reaching that vertical distance. His thoughts drifted to field crossbows, particularly the kind he had once envisioned for Korelia's defense but dismissed due to its complexity and cost: a cart-mounted ballista.

"My Lord," a soft female voice called, making Lansius turn.

"Tanya," he acknowledged eagerly as the guards made way for her approach. Her voice was enough to stir his mood.

She ran toward him, looking almost angelic in her blue tunic, though her expression was urgent as she pointed to the sky. "There are two fat, dark dragons in the sky!"

"Fat dragons?" Lansius chuckled and patted her shoulder, trying to ease her tension. "Don't worry. Those are airships, not dragons."

"Airships?" Tanya blinked, doing a double take, mesmerized. She turned back to him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Don’t tell me they’re yours?"

"Technically, just one," Lansius said with a chuckle, amused by her reaction. "If you’re brave enough, I’ll take you on a ride later."

Tanya nodded, excitement flickering in her eyes. Yet, an equal measure of fear made her hesitate, her doubt plain to see. Still, she looked immensely proud of him—a look that warmed Lansius more than he cared to admit.

"My Lady," the guards greeted, prompting Lansius and Tanya to turn toward approaching Audrey.

Tanya readily curtsied, and Audrey nodded in acknowledgment before turning to Lansius and reporting, "Margo, Tia, and Francisca have accompanied Valerie."

"I see," Lansius muttered, then gestured toward the two airships in the sky.

"Ah," Audrey murmured. "Victory is indeed at hand."

"Huh?" Lansius turned to her and met her gaze. He could see her happiness radiating as she explained, "I see a captured man aboard being manhandled by a very happy-looking Big Ben."

Lansius exhaled slowly, a weight lifting from his shoulders. The campaign and hostility against Midlandia had now reached a turning point. With Reginald captured, they could begin negotiating a truce—and hopefully maintain it long enough.

Audrey turned to Tanya, who looked curious, and said, "Soon, every noble will send their son to win your hand."

Tanya blinked, her expression rigid. Beside her, Lansius chuckled. "She’ll have full control over her life. Anyone who says otherwise can meet my axe."

"And my sword," Audrey added warmly. They both turned to Tanya, who sheepishly said, "My Lord, My Lady, I have to tell you—I’m married."

Lansius froze for a brief moment, taking in the weight of Tanya’s words. His brows furrowed slightly, not in anger but in surprise, as if processing whether he had heard her correctly. "Married?" he asked, his voice calm but tinged with disbelief.

Tanya seemed to brace herself, and Audrey took pity on her. "Married?" the Lady echoed, her tone filled with teasing curiosity.

"And when exactly were you planning to share this little detail?" Audrey added with a playful tone, giving Lansius time to gather his thoughts and emotions. They both suspected it was likely one of Bengrieve's agents.

Tanya’s lips curled into a faint smile, but her eyes stayed sharp, watching for any signs of anger.

Lansius finally exhaled and patted her shoulder. "Well, you've grown," he said. "To live in Bellandia during times of war must have been difficult. If you’ve found happiness, then I have no reason but to wish you more of it."

Tanya’s face brightened, her eyes misting. After years of longing, she surged forward and hugged Lansius tightly, burying her face against his chest. As Tanya clung to him, Lansius and Audrey exchanged a knowing glance. They both knew they would need to look into this, or it could turn into a big issue.

...

The airships landed one by one at the rear of Lansius' camp. Men swiftly formed a defensive perimeter as the main army's maintenance crew, including Hans, scrambled to make repairs and refuel. Lansius wanted the airships airborne again as quickly as possible—he couldn't afford for Bengrieve's agents to learn too much about them.

Fortunately, thanks to their recent overhauls in Dawn and Korelia, both airships were still in good condition. Only a few riggings had come loose, and the burners needed cleaning. The ships would be ready to depart as soon as the crew had their liberty.

Dawn's airship would be loaded with a share of the loot and return home via Korimor and Three Hills. Meanwhile, The Pride of Korimor would remain with Lansius and the main army.

After confirming that Valerie's condition had stabilized, she was moved to the inner tent with Tia overseeing her care. Wasting no time, as he needed to prepare for breaking camp and marching, Lansius summoned his council. Sir Harold, Sir Michael, Sir Omin, and Captain Dietrich readily gathered.

Once assured that Ingrid and the Saint Candidate were recovering well, the scouts had moved ahead, and the order to break camp had been carried out, Lansius called for Reginald to be brought in.

Sir Morton, leading four SAR team members, entered. Two of them hauled a plump, weakened man by his arms. The man's face was pale and drenched in sweat, his clothing tattered in many places, giving him the appearance of a plucked chicken. His knees buckled as they dropped him unceremoniously onto the carpeted ground. He hit the carpet with a muted grunt, collapsing into a kneeling position, his head lolling slightly as he struggled to catch his breath.

Sir Morton nodded to the SAR lieutenant, who promptly reported with pride, "My Lord, I present to you Reginald, the captured Lord of Midlandia."

Cold stares greeted Reginald. No one spoke for a moment until Lansius asked from his chair, "Have we confirmed his identity?"

"Yes, My Lord. We questioned two prominent Cascasonne staff, and they were confident of his identity."

Lansius nodded. "Excellent work. You may rest; we'll take it from here."

The SAR team bowed their heads and withdrew. Sir Morton stayed while Sir Harold moved to stand beside Reginald, causing the older man to shudder in fear. Whether out of shame or terror, he still refused to meet Lansius' gaze.

Lansius turned to Audrey, seated beside him. Her expression was a mix of disinterest and disgust. Turning back to the captured man, he asked, making no effort to hide his disdain, "So, you are Sir Reginald?"

"I am... My Lord, my apologies for our past hostilities. It was a grave error on my part," Reginald pleaded, his voice heavy with regret.

"An error?" Audrey retorted, her voice as cold as a blade forged from winter's chill. "Three assassins—one a fell-beast hunter and another a rogue mage—an error?"

Reginald shriveled, his body hunching even lower. Behind him, Sir Morton looked surprised, his gaze shifting from Reginald to Audrey.

Of course, he's the one who realized Audrey has the gift of magic—something neither Valerie nor Ingrid could detect.

Lansius made a mental note to question him later and to check on Audrey, as she had just done something he didn’t understand but suspected was both risky and unthinkable. Furthermore, once the mage knight was well-rested, Lansius planned to have him check on Valerie, Ingrid, and the Saint Candidate Harold had brought.

"My Lady," Reginald replied, his voice quivering with dread. "I only made plans based on circumstances known to me. I wasn’t the one who sent assassins after you."

"You mean, technically, you’re not the one who ordered the operations," Lansius interjected sharply.

Reginald nodded quickly. "Indeed, My Lord."

"What kind of leader are you, Reginald?" Lansius’ evaluation of him sank even lower. "In war or peace, the planner ultimately shoulders the responsibility. A leader can’t shift blame simply because he’s not the one wielding the bloody sword."

"Y-yes, you are correct, My Lord," Reginald stammered, making no attempt to argue.

Lansius sighed loudly, leaning to the left into Audrey. His elbow rested on the cushioned armrest, his chin propped up by his hand. "What should I do with you, Sir Reginald? You’re worthless to us dead, but you’re equally worthless to us alive. And I have a promise to uphold to the sky: you’ll be a human torch and duck feed—alive."

There was no lie in those words, and Reginald knew it. He raised his voice, "Please, there might be something. I have influence."

"No," Lansius replied, his tone as casual as if he were declining an offer of a drink. "I’d rather have you as a human torch. Just slather you with cheap tallow, burn your leg upside down, and toss the rest to the ducks. They won’t mind, even if you already look like a plucked duck."

Outside the tent, three half-breeds guffawed loudly, clearly eavesdropping. Lansius had half-expected it and wasn’t bothered. Without needing instruction, Sir Morton stepped outside and shoved the group farther from the camp.

"Get those jesters farther away. Bribe them with ale if you have to," the mage knight instructed the nearby guards.

"Ale!" Big Ben shouted triumphantly.

Inside, Reginald tried persuasion again. "My Lord, if you kill me, your reputation will sour among the intellectuals of Midlandia. This will not—"

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"Please spare us your jest," Lansius interjected. "I'm just a barbarian brute. Intellectuals mean nothing to me. Only gold and silver matter, and as it happens, I just uncovered a large cache from your castle. A pleasant surprise," he added, his voice laden with mockery.

"Please, My Lord, I didn’t know you back then."

"And you still don’t know me now," Lansius snapped.

"That is all wrong," Reginald admitted, finding his courage. "T-the airships, the alliance with talking beastmen, the rapid-shooting crossbows, and your victory against all odds against the fanatic army—you’re clearly a visionary. The kind of person we’ve always sought for our ranks."@@novelbin@@

"If only you had looked for me diplomatically instead of through hidden blades," Lansius replied slowly, without raising his voice.

"The greatest mistake of my life," the fallen lord admitted again, his shoulders slouching deeply.

Audrey drew a long breath, and all eyes turned to her. "Reginald, look at me."

Reginald obeyed, his gaze locking onto the most mesmerizing set of eyes he had ever seen.

"Convince me. Why should I keep you alive despite your crimes?"

"I’m just a puppet. I can be your witness against the nobles of Midlandia. You and I are both victims in their fight against House Bengrieve."

To Lansius’ surprise, Audrey maintained her composure. "Elaborate," she ordered, her voice steady, without letting her eyes turn golden.

"There are over sixty powerful Houses in Midlandia who want a larger share of power. They want Midlandia independent of House Bengrieve’s control."

"And what about Edessa?" she asked.

"Edessa is the same. Many of these Houses are married into or have relations with Edessa nobility. You could see them as Midlandia’s family branches."

Her eyes grew cold and speculative. "Can we implicate them in this assassination?"

"Certainly. As long as My Lady and My Lady don’t torture me and let my family ransom me, I’ll stand as a free witness. The intellectuals will believe me."

Audrey waved him off. "Don’t get too excited," she advised before turning to Lansius.

"Reginald," Lansius called, "the rights of reprisal allow me to take what is yours and extend to others who had their hands in this. The assassins survived, so I have no issue implicating Edessa. Your offer means little."

The fallen lord had no words to argue. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple as he slumped, his expression that of a man resigned to his fate.

"Still, it’s interesting that you weren’t the one who sent the assassins. Tell me—was it Edessa?"

After battling for his life and finding no way to escape, calmness prevailed. "I’m not sure, My Lord. While they were eager and stood to benefit the most from your demise, just like me, they don’t have the contacts. It must be another noble."

"Sixty Houses, you said?"

"Sixty, but if you’ve reached here and also Toruna, it means thirty have already lost their land. You can dismiss them."

"So, another thirty Houses and Edessa..." Lansius muttered. "What do you think about my chances? Are they strong?"

"I know so little about your army’s composition. And I think it’s clear now that I know so little about warfare."

"Can’t you at least give me their numbers or strengths?" Lansius inquired.

Reginald shook his head. "It’s not that I don’t know. I could make a guess, but I’m not one to betray my allies."

"Bold words," Lansius remarked with a faint smile. "Then, tell me; how about Bengrieve?"

For the first time, Reginald looked up and met Lansius’ gaze. His eyes darted, not with fear, but deep in thought. "What do you want to know?" he finally asked, sounding more like an advisor than a condemned.

"Tell me why you went against him. Isn’t he an able administrator?" Lansius ventured.

"It’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s mostly a game of power," Reginald said. "House Bengrieve is too rich and powerful, yet he still acts like a seneschal. That makes people uncomfortable."

Lansius frowned. "Why would that bother them?"

"My Lord, if the second and first most powerful positions are held by the same man, wouldn’t that make others wary?"

Lansius rubbed his chin thoughtfully, finding himself beginning to enjoy the conversation. Reginald was a dead man living on borrowed time, but if he proved useful, Lansius could find ways to make the most of him. After all, a dead man offered nothing but limbs for display on pikes.

"It also created opportunities for his enemies to dispose of him since he refused to take the seat of power outright," Reginald continued.

"All these power games while people suffer," Lansius lamented. "Can’t they see reason? Especially now, with even the Imperium falling."

"To them, it’s a sign," Reginald exhaled sharply. "They scouted me and heralded me, knowing the Imperium was collapsing."

Lansius exhaled deeply. "What do you think if I crush these thirty families?"

"It’s within your rights," Reginald said, his tone heavy. "However, I dare say now that perhaps you’ll be a better lord than me, them, or even Bengrieve."

"Flattery," Lansius dismissed.

"My Lord, the issue in Midlandia is fragmentation of power. Nobody truly holds authority, and nothing gets done because the nobles bicker endlessly. Even before I became a lord, I knew that after we deposed Bengrieve, the sixty lords would split into factions and start undermining each other."

"Then why did you consent to power? Was the wealth and prestige too tempting to resist?" Lansius asked.

"I merely wanted my group of intellectuals to gain influence," Reginald admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "Even with limited time, we believed we could use our office to bring change: sanction more schools, produce more copies of educational books, hold open seminars, foster political discussions, implement land registration, and simplify local taxes. Changes that would truly benefit the people." He sighed deeply. "Alas, the reign ended too soon. We... we shouldn't have fought you."

Lansius glanced at his staff. Sir Morton and Sir Harold appeared poised, their expressions betraying no emotion. Similarly, Sir Omin and Sir Michael remained calm throughout the ordeal, suggesting that Lansius’ handling of the matter was satisfactory. Only Dietrich seemed to show a hint of disagreement, likely harboring questions he’d either pursue later in private or let go entirely, as was his nature—he disliked overthinking.

Feeling he had reached the core of the issue, Lansius turned to Francisca, who waited quietly behind Audrey. "Call the scribe."

Moments later, two scribes entered, bowing. "My Lord, My Lady."

"I have decided on this man’s punishment," Lansius declared as the scribes took their seats and prepared their tools. Once they were ready, he continued, "By the power vested in me as the Lord Shogun, I decree that Reginald’s death by execution is commuted to servitude under my House."

All eyes turned to Lansius at the pronouncement. Maintaining his calm demeanor, he added, "If he fails in his duties to my satisfaction or sides against my House, he is to be executed."

Hearing the decree, Reginald exhaled shakily, his body trembling as tension released. He collapsed onto the carpet, sitting awkwardly.

"Secondly," Lansius continued, "by the rights of reprisal, I hereby lay claim to Reginald’s office, the Earldom of Midlandia, including the lands and castles of his supporters until they seek a truce, pledge support for the Shogunate, and pay indemnity. Thirdly, regarding Reginald’s family: they are to be captured and sent to Korelia to live as commoners. Other issues will be settled as needed. This decision remains subject to changes as deemed necessary by other members of the Shogunate at a later time."

"Gratitude, My Lord," Reginald said faintly, fully aware that for such a crime, his family would likely be killed in secret as retribution.

"Don’t get too hopeful," Lansius said coldly. "You’ll stay with the half-breeds; after all, they’re the ones who captured you."

"Y-yes," Reginald stammered, forcing himself into a bow.

Lansius added coldly, "Reginald, I only need your knowledge on occasion. I don’t promise that you’ll retain all your limbs intact."

Reginald’s eyes widened in terror, but he dared not utter a complaint.

Lansius turned to Francisca. "If you please, get someone to call Big Ben. His hostage awaits."

...

After Big Ben and his kin arrived, reeking of ale but alert, Lansius entrusted the pale-looking Reginald to them. The half-breed was delighted by the surprise, acting as though they were being handed back their favorite toy. They had nicknamed him "Plucked Duck," and one even mumbled about fattening him up before cooking.

Lansius cared little. The man deserved more than just fear and discomfort. Moreover, he had already asked Francisca whether Big Ben could be trusted. She assured him that, beneath his jester-like demeanor, Big Ben was reliable and unlikely to kill a hostage out of rage or by accident.

Seeing Reginald’s troubled expression seemed to ease Lansius’ staff, many of whom likely wanted the man dead or subjected to harsher corporal punishment.

Once Big Ben and his kin escorted Reginald out, Lansius openly remarked to his staff, "This would’ve been easier if he were a haughty brute full of himself."

"Do you feel pity for him, My Lord?" asked Sir Michael, the one-eyed knight.

Lansius decided to address the question. "I do. Tell me, was this the wrong move? Will the other Lords or the Lowlandians see this decision as weakness?"

Sir Michael turned to Sir Omin, who shook his head. "People will have questions, but it’s easy to explain. Keeping him alive makes sense—he’s still useful. That much anyone can understand."

"Except the grieving families," Dietrich interjected. The others nodded in acknowledgment.

When Dietrich didn’t add anything further, Lansius turned to Audrey, signaling her to speak. She simply shrugged and said, "You always have plans within plans. I’m too fatigued to think, so I’ll choose to trust you. Besides, if Reginald shows any contempt, I can always use him for moving target practice."

Everyone chuckled at her response.

"What a resourceful answer," Lansius said playfully. Audrey nodded with a smug smile, accepting the praise.

The lighter moment was interrupted by movement at the tent entrance. Sir Harold appeared, escorting a woman in monastic robes who clung weakly to his arm for support. Despite her frailty, she forced herself to maintain a dignified posture as she walked beside him. "My Lord, forgive this unsightliness," Harold said.

"Please, don’t trouble yourself," Audrey replied as she rose from her seat and approached them. Dietrich, Francisca, and the knights followed closely, ready to assist.

Sir Harold leaned down to whisper something to the woman before she knelt with difficulty and greeted, "My Lady, please accept—"

Audrey moved swiftly, catching her before her knees touched the ground. "There’s no need to be so formal," she said warmly.

"My Lady..." The woman looked up at Audrey sheepishly, her expression filled with reverence.

From his seat, Lansius observed the interaction with curiosity. Their sudden familiarity was weird, and he suspected it was due to magic, something beyond his senses, so he chose to remain silent and rely on Audrey.

"My Lord, My Lady, fellow Sirs, and Captain," Sir Harold began, addressing the room. "My apology for the sudden announcement, but I have decided to marry Saint Candidate Clementine. We humbly seek for your blessing."

The declaration was met with pleasant surprise, and everyone in the tent broke into grins or smiles. Sir Morton stepped forward and gave Harold two firm taps on the shoulder, his thin smile conveying approval. Francisca giggled uncontrollably, clutching her stomach as tears streamed down her face. Despite her earlier claim that she wanted him, half-breeds didn’t share the same views on marriage as traditional humans.

Sir Michael and Dietrich moved as if to offer their congratulations, but Sir Omin caught their gaze and subtly gestured toward Lansius.

Lansius scratched his head thoughtfully before asking, "Sir Harold, any specific reason?"

Meanwhile, Audrey gently guided Clementine to the corner, engaging her in a quiet discussion.

"She’s a capable Saint Candidate and skilled in healing," Harold began. "I thought she could be a great asset to our forces—or even serve as your healer. She made the first move, and I consented."

The knights exchanged knowing grins, clearly on the verge of teasing, but Harold’s calm demeanor and faint smile dared them to try.

"As far as I know, you’re the one who captured her," Lansius said. "By old tradition, that would make her yours. But even with the Imperium’s collapse, I doubt we’re reverting to such outdated customs."

"I claim no such right," Harold clarified. "I wish to marry her as a freeborn."

Lansius studied his champion. "That means I’ll need to question her. Is that alright?"

"Certainly," Sir Harold replied with confidence.

Lansius relaxed, pleased to see no signs of coercion. "Dietrich, could I trouble you to fetch the scribes again? We need to officiate this."

"Right away," Dietrich replied, leaving quickly and personally returning with the scribes.

Before proceeding, Lansius exchanged a few words with Sir Morton, who needed to rest, and Dietrich, who was tasked with commanding the advance party. Afterward, Sir Michael accompanied Sir Harold outside for a talk, leaving Sir Omin, Francisca, and the scribes inside.

Audrey returned to her seat beside Lansius as the scribes prepared fresh parchment for the proceedings.

"Clementine, was it? I have to ask—are you being forced into this? Speak plainly," Lansius instructed.

***

Summer 4426, Midlandia

After spending two days in Cascasonne, Lord Lansius mobilized his army into three separate columns. The vanguard, composed of two mobile brigades and cavalry led by Dietrich and Sir Omin, advanced eastward toward the city of Ploiesta, accompanied by two thousand captured men. They secured the city with a garrison before Dietrich pushed further east toward Lubina. His objective was not to besiege Lubina but to establish a perimeter of towns and cities to blockade the forces stationed there.

In this newly contested area, Sir Omin began fortifying key positions to establish a defensible border. The moats and walls were repaired, and the farms were restored to ensure the captured men could grow sustenance for themselves.

A smaller detachment of horsemen, led by Sir Stan, pushed further east toward Toruna, liberating cities along the way. Their mission was to join Farkas' dragoons and the Black Bandits.

Meanwhile, the main army, accompanied by two thousand captured people, advanced from town to town, pacifying settlements and cities as if on a grand tour. Following Sir Michael's suggestions, they paraded Reginald in Beastman custody as part of a carefully crafted message.

This show of force was designed to awe the commoners while instilling fear in the recently conquered lower nobility who might still harbor thoughts of prolonging the civil war. Lord Lansius understood that his enemies were not just the thirty Houses still unconquered north of the river but also the thirty Houses that had already lost their domains. Their roots ran deep in the region, making their influence difficult to uproot.

After fourteen days of marching and liberating towns and cities along the way, Lord Lansius stood at the gates of Ornietia. The city would serve as the staging ground for his dominion. Soon, brave men collected their rewards and were honored. Feasts and week-long celebrations followed to commemorate a grand victory many dared not even imagine. Reclaiming half of Midlandia felt like a triumph plucked from legends, and so the joy was unrestrained. Songs, laughter, and the echoes of triumph filled the streets long into the night.

Ironically, the victor of the Midlandia civil war was a dark horse, emerging from obscurity to reclaim half the province. Undoubtedly, lingering fears, suspicions, and doubts remained about his rule. For a province that had held firm for centuries to be invaded and conquered by a power from Lowlandia was nothing less than shocking.

Moreover, beyond Midlandia, storm clouds gathered as threats escalated. The fall of the Capital City had caused a deep ripple effect that nobody yet understood. Locally, to the east, there was Edessa's threat that could easily spiral into open battle.

To the north, conflict in Arvena between Lord Arte and Lord Gottfried had reached a new stage.

To the west, Lord Avery and Sir Servius' rule over the Nicopola region remained fragile.

Worse, to the south, Corinthia was showing signs of direct involvement in piracy, threatening the southern caravan trade.

The shogunate stood besieged at its borders, yet the Lord’s retinue and people stood firm. The unification of Lowlandia and Midlandia under a single banner was nothing short of a miracle. A feat unmatched in living memory, achieved in record time and by one so young.

They didn’t believe in a Living Saint. They believed in the primacy of their ever-victorious Warlord.

And so, many whispered that the age of House Lansius had begun.

***