Horizon of War Series

Chapter 211: Canardia

Canardia

Midlandia

The week-long festivities continued in full swing. The daring SAR and half-breed attack that captured Reginald had captivated everyone’s imagination, becoming the centerpiece of celebration and storytelling.

Behind closed doors, Lord Lansius, as agreed, took control of Ornietia’s administration after Sir Stan's confidant delivered a letter ordering the steward and garrison to relinquish the castle and domain. With the garrison’s acceptance, House Bengrieve’s rule over Ornietia came to an end in the summer of 4426.

The garrison subsequently marched home toward Cascasonne, while banners of blue and bronze were hoisted high over Ornietia, marking its formal induction into the Shogunate’s fold. It became Lord Lansius’s third personal barony, after Korelia and South Hill, or fourth, if Korimor, where he served as protector, was included.

Ornietia's people were more relieved than concerned by this shift in allegiance, as they were Lowlandians and not Midlandians. For decades, they had been close allies of Lord Robert, and many local knights and esquires fondly remembered Sir Michael. Thus, the local commoners and nobles, having heard of Lord Lansius' exploits, gladly lent their full support to the Shogunate's cause.

What the Lord gained was an intact barony with Lord Bengrieve's reforms still in place—many of which, surprisingly, aligned with Lord Lansius's vision. He instructed the castle staff to maintain the reforms, prioritizing accurate bookkeeping, especially for expenses, policies to fortify food production, and reduced taxes for five years.

It was a straightforward policy with no embellishments, designed to let the city grow and stabilize. The Lord's first order was to incentivize cart manufacturing and repair businesses to establish themselves in the barony. He would need them to support a more robust trade route to his domain in Korelia.

Ornietia would soon become the springboard for two thousand captured people beginning their long journey south. While many wished to remain as peasants in Ornietia, the Lord and his court refused, wary of their gullible nature and lingering devotion to the teachings of the Living Saint, which had yet to be resolved.

Without delay, once preparations were complete, the first and second groups of captives, totaling no less than six hundred, set out across the great plains to Korelia. The Lord was pleased with reports of their journey and progress. Thus, seven days after his arrival in Ornietia, he departed for Midlandia to establish a government.

He left Sir Michael as the steward of Ornietia and moved his troops closer to the Living Saint's Monastery, located in a hilly region roughly between Lubina and Ornietia. The site was immediately blockaded, cutting off the flow of people and goods to the monastery.

Sir Omin was tasked with maintaining the blockade and conducting limited negotiations. Since Saint Candidates possessed magical abilities, Lansius assigned no less than Sir Morton and his Black Knights to prevent trouble.

On the advice of his scouts and staff, several of whom were Midlandian natives, Lord Lansius toured multiple locations before selecting Canardia as his temporary home base or secondary capital. The city was named after a mythical giant waterfowl once revered by the early humans of the region.

From Canardia, he could oversee his expanding domain. It was seven days by comfort march to Lubina or four on a rapid march. Toruna lay twelve days away by comfort march, as did Ploiesta, the city held by his vanguard.

Ploiesta served as their only reliable gateway to northern Midlandia, thanks to its boats and river crossings. Moreover, its proximity and strategic position between Lubina and Cascasonne made it vulnerable yet vital. Thus, the reason why the Lord had ordered two thousand captured people to revitalize the city's aging defenses and fortify its perimeter.

In Canardia Castle, the Lord convened his first court in Midlandia. Word spread quickly, and delegates from across the region gathered daily, formally pledging their loyalty. The city would stand as witness to the dawn of Lord Lansius' rule in the region. Knights, esquires, landlords, influential merchants, and prominent guilds flocked to meet their new master.

There was tension in the air, as nobody had expected someone from Lowlandia to occupy South Midlandia. Furthermore, the educated elite seemed poised to protest and quietly refused to attend. However, for most, the fact that Lord Lansius was the previous Seneschal's man made him a candidate worth supporting.

Many looked to him to restore order and peace to Midlandia, and the Lord, aware of the threats at the borders, did so by ensuring his military was ready.

His strategy to reinforce Toruna was underway, and by defending Canardia, he was positioning his opponents to either vacate Lubina or be forced to supply it at a heavy cost. Knowing Edessa to be the only involved party with a still intact military, the Lord presented them with a dilemma:

To supply and reinforce Lubina, they could either besiege Toruna, move inland, and create a long salient toward Lubina. This was the fastest route but also the riskiest—although it might yield lands and castles.

Alternatively, they could take a safer but longer route by turning through Lake Toruna, then heading toward Feodosia and following the northern path. It was the same route Lord Lansius had traveled years ago during his journey to Feodosia. After twenty days or so, the path would lead them across the bridge over the mighty river into Lubina.

The first option would create a long, exposed salient, one that Lord Lansius could exploit.

The second option would be so costly that it was unlikely to be sustainable for more than a few years. It also exposed the northern region to economic attacks and seeds of rebellion.

Whatever their response, Lord Lansius decided that patience would serve him best in this situation. He was in no hurry to wage another war and was more than content to focus on solidifying his rule. 𝘳АNốВÊ𝐒

***

Lansius

After the events in Cascasonne, Sir Harold and Clementine received Lansius and Audrey's blessing and were officially declared husband and wife. Following their union, Lansius temporarily relieved Sir Harold from frontline duties.

As for Ingrid, with Sir Morton's help and plenty of rest in Ornietia, she recovered enough to resume her duties. They finally discussed Audrey’s magic, which had bewildered them with its unusual nature.

As for Valerie, despite showing promise, she remained weak and in need of more rest. Lansius suspected that the donated blood might have triggered mutations inside her body, causing lingering aftereffects or possibly even permanent changes. However, with no method to test or confirm, all they could do was wait and hope for her recovery.@@novelbin@@

Instead of living in the castle, Lansius opted for a mansion just outside Canardia. He wanted to ease the transition for his family, who weren’t used to living in such a formal environment. Even in Cascasonne, they hadn’t been part of the ruling elite. To live in the castle meant adhering to a rigid set of rules, from eating and clothing to daily routines that dictated their lives.

He feared that Tanya and Arryn would find the expectations of such a life daunting. Thus, he chose a more private abode. The mansion allowed Arryn and Tanya to live as they pleased, far from prying eyes. They even joined the cooking staff freely to help prepare meals. With a vegetable garden and several helpers assisting them, the setting felt welcoming rather than imposing.

Ingrid and Tia were assigned to them, with Ingrid serving as Tanya’s educator and Tia as the family maid.

Outside, the sun was rising, and Lansius had a light breakfast in the hall next to his chamber. He had wanted to join Arryn and Tanya for breakfast in their quarters, but he had overslept. Instead, only Audrey had joined them.

"I hope they don’t feel bad about this," Lansius muttered as he munched on bread and cheese.

Audrey sat across from him at the table and shot him a questioning glance while sipping boiled milk sweetened with honey and spiced with herbs.

He continued, "It’s not like I didn’t want to join them or anything. I just feel too tired lately."

Audrey giggled. "Lans, you missed a breakfast, not a wedding or something."

"Right, well… I just want them to be happy. I mean, I made them travel everywhere, and now we’re in another place again."

"You don’t need to worry about your family. They’re strong and understand your responsibilities," she reassured him.

Lansius nodded and took another bite of bread. It was lovely. Midlandians baked better bread than Lowlandians.

It must be the flour, the butter, or maybe the abundance of good wood.

"Also, just this morning, I received reports from our Orange Skalds about Tanya's husband."

Lansius paused mid-bite, his brows knitting. "A rich merchant who travels frequently, with great physique and charm, who just happens to bribe a peasant girl and her mother out of Arvena into Midlandia and ends up in Cascasonne... It's Bengrieve's agents, isn't it?"

"Somewhat, he's a member of the hunter guild. The other hunter guild," she clarified.

"Assassin," Lansius muttered, half-expecting it. "So how did our agents learn of this?"

"Well, you rule half of Midlandia, and Sir Stan has his contacts. I imagine many are eager to make amends."

Lansius sighed deeply and drank a third of his herbal concoction that felt like tea. "How should I break the news to Tia? To think that her wedding was a lie."

"You don't have to."

Lansius looked at Audrey. "You mean you'll do it for me?"

"Yes and no," she said, drawing his attention. "I believe we could invite the person and ask him directly. I suggest this because Tanya appears to be quite in love with him."

"Like you with me?" Lansius quipped.

"Not that much," she replied without hesitation, a smug smile decorating her lips.

Lansius chuckled, then rubbed his forehead. "As much as I can, I don’t want to ask a man to play a fake husband to my sister. However, if the relationship can be made clear, having a Hunter in the family isn’t all bad."

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"Two," she corrected him. "Basically, I'm a Hunter as well."

Lansius nodded, recalling Sir Morton and Ingrid's words about Audrey's abilities. Her knight master, Isolte, had likely trained her as a fell-beast hunter. That much was certain.

"Anyway, I just remembered your statement when we discussed Lubina in Cascasonne," her words snapped him out of his thoughts. "As long as Lubina remains standing, Bengrieve and us will remain on the same side."

"What about it?" Lansius asked.

"Well, it still rings in my head. It feels like there’s something deeper going on with your plan."

Lansius paused. "I’m not following."

"I mean the withdrawal order and the decision not to besiege Lubina," she clarified.

"Well, I’ve explained our situation—politically, militarily, and logistically."

"Yes, I remember," Audrey said, tilting her head slightly, "but it feels like there’s another layer I can’t quite grasp."

Lansius considered her words before admitting, "Perhaps you’re right. There’s another layer. I just don’t like being predictable."

"Oh, I see what you mean," she replied hastily.

"If our opponent thinks I’m heading one way, then I take another route. In warfare, it’s good to create chaos upon your enemy."

Audrey nodded, committing it to memory, and muttered, "So you refuse to be predictable."

"That’s a poignant way to put it," Lansius said with a note of approval.

"Ah, a compliment. So, what does this academy student get?" she teased.

Lansius chuckled. Ever since he told her about the war academy during their long travels, Audrey had been mesmerized by the idea. They’d even sourced a tabletop game from a local guildsman, which Lansius had modified with basic rules.

The game required cloth, stones, or other trinkets scattered as terrain, measuring sticks for unit movement with longer ones for cavalry and shorter ones for infantry or archers, and dice to determine outcomes. It was essentially a simplified version of the Prussian Kriegsspiel, the game that turned Prussia’s military officers into a powerhouse.

If Lansius could get his hands on accurate topographical maps, he could use the game with real military personnel in the field to measure officers' effectiveness in battle. But that was a dream for the future. For now, his first student was grinning eagerly.

Lansius fished something out of his inner pocket. It had only recently been returned to him. He found it and was about to hand it over when she commented, "Oh, that’s the one from your fight with the intruder."

"You can sense it?" he asked, surprised. "Ingrid has just managed to restore its potency."

"Faintly. You had yours, so it was sort of mixed," she explained.

"I see. Well, it’s good to know you can even see gemstone-of-strength wielders."

"I could tell when it was being used in that fight," she said, taking the gem-encrusted silver medallion from him. "Unlike yours, this one glowed brightly."

No wonder Ingrid could sense it from afar.

"Does that mean it’s a better gemstone?" he asked.

"I think the opposite," Audrey replied. "I met Sir Stan face-to-face often, but I couldn’t pinpoint what he was using. I knew it was there, but it felt shrouded."

Lansius nodded. Probably good shielding, like electromagnetic.

"Well, at any rate, you should keep it," she said, placing the medallion back in his palm. "It was taken from a dead man, and I’m with child."

"Right," Lansius said, recalling the superstition that bloodied items might bring bad luck. "Well, at any rate, Ingrid has maintained it, and I don't know what to do with this."

"That's not even a question," Audrey said. "While your guards and Francisca are always ready, there's always the risk of encountering another assassin. Two gemstones of strength are better than one."

"Why do I feel like activating two of them together sounds dangerous?"

"You're unlikely able to, but I'm not entirely sure either. You should consult Ingrid or Sir Morton about this," she advised.

Lansius nodded. "I will." Then, rising from his seat, he said, "I'll be leaving for the castle."

"See you around supper," Audrey said. "Don't work too hard. Remember, you're not responsible for the fate of the world."

Her words made Lansius chuckle.

***

Sigmund

The skald governor of South Hill had completed his journey on horseback from Korelia to Three Hills, bringing no fewer than one hundred riders as the upcoming caravan’s security. They were mostly young, as their fathers and uncles were campaigning with Lord Lansius in Midlandia. However, their inexperience was balanced by their eagerness.

For seasoned guidance, Batu’s nomads offered plenty of older, wiser warriors whom Sigmund could rely on should things turn dicey. Yet, in the Great Plains, there was little cause for fear, as the land firmly belonged to the Shogunate.

In Three Hills City, Sigmund rested his riders for a week. He met with Dame Daniella to discuss the Shogunate Korelia Yield Bank. Fascinated by the concept, he opened two accounts, one for himself and another for Agatha, who had accompanied him on his journey.

He decided it was wise to have savings rather than letting his spoils go to waste. After exploring the city for inspiration and trade goods, Sigmund resumed his travels. His party now numbered a hundred and twenty riders, as the city steward had provided additional men.

Under fair weather, they rode toward a small fishing village south of Three Hills, where Lord Jorge’s men were rebuilding piers, expanding storage rooms, and constructing a new inn. The Shogunate was heavily investing in the Southern Trade to secure economic stability. With the Imperium gone, money needed to flow from somewhere. Otherwise, Lowlandia would remain a backwater indefinitely.

As they approached the coast, the scenery shifted dramatically. The open plains gave way to windswept dunes, rocky shores, and endless stretches of sand. Overhead, gray clouds rolled in, casting shadows over the restless sea.

As Sigmund led his riders, carriages, and carts into the village, he raised his hand, signaling his men to stop. The steady rhythm of hooves striking dirt faded, giving way to the distant cries of seagulls and the gentle rush of waves.

A crowd of villagers had already gathered in the village, their murmurs filling the air. Among them were officials from Three Hills, stationed there.

"Welcome to Thalassia," one of the elders greeted them.

Sigmund bowed his head in respect, then turned to his men. "Gentlemen, we have arrived. Dismount," he instructed. "See to the horses and check your gear. Make sure everyone has lodgings and food for the night. Report to me tomorrow morning."

His orders were met with salutes and murmurs of acknowledgment. The riders quickly dismounted and began their tasks—finding stables, unloading trade goods, and securing lodgings. Lord Lansius often entrusted them to conduct trades whenever their carts were empty to earn extra coins along the way.

As the village elders and officials approached with welcoming smiles and offers of food and shelter, Sigmund greeted them briefly before slipping away from the crowd. Turning to Agatha, who stood nearby with her travel cloak drawn tightly around her shoulders, he nodded toward the beach.

"Come, girl," he said, his tone playful. "The beach awaits."

Agatha’s eyes lit up, and she quickly fell into step beside him. Her presence here was a mistake. At first, Sigmund had thought the Lady or the Lord would take her as an attendant, which was why he brought her to Korelia. But then the war came, and they decided the timing wasn’t right to bring it up. So here she was, hopping along with Sigmund on a long journey through the Great Plains and into Thalassia village.

The two followed a winding dirt path that led to the shore, the scent of salt and seaweed growing stronger as the path opened to sandy dunes and rocky outcrops. Near the newly constructed pier, tools, and building materials lay scattered beside temporary huts built for the workers. Farther down, dozens of fishing boats rested on the sand, some still smelling of the morning’s catch.

As they approached, the ocean stretched endlessly before them, its surface rippling under the golden light.

Agatha paused as her feet touched the sand. She giggled softly at the strange sensation.

"You might want to take off your shoes," Sigmund suggested with a grin. "The sand gets everywhere."

The girl nodded quickly and slipped off her shoes. She walked barefoot along the shore, stopping just before the waves.

Sigmund lingered behind, taking in the view before finding a shaded spot beneath a coconut tree. He lowered himself onto the sand, unslung his gittern, and began to pluck a melody that praised the sea.

Meanwhile, Agatha dared herself to wade closer. The cold waves kissed her ankles, and she laughed quietly as the water retreated and returned.

A few older nomads had joined them on the beach, settling into the sand and laughing at the sight of a place they had heard about but never experienced before.

Agatha returned to Sigmund’s side and sat down beside him. They had grown closer since their first meeting in the fall of last year. How could they not? Despite being young, she had served as Lady Audrey's attendant for a time and was one of the few Sigmund could trust to help manage South Hill without hidden agendas or outside influence.

They had endured much, as the defeated nobles were constantly plotting schemes to regain their footing. Knowing that the Black Lord had offered generous bounties to capture knights, esquires, and men-at-arms in case of rebellion, the nobles began to undermine his support clandestinely. They bribed influential figures in South Hill and used thugs to intimidate the population, hoping to turn the city into a lawless place.

However, the commoners stood firm, choosing to trust Lord Lansius and his men.

Conflict was only averted because the Black Lord had left behind a significant garrison. Sigmund’s three hundred men were nearly matched in strength by the defeated nobles, who had gathered roughly one hundred armed fighters and another two hundred hired thugs.

Even so, Sigmund had used his Orange Skalds to spy on the conspirators and sow distrust among them. His greatest victory came when the leading conspirator’s own family poisoned him, unwilling to follow him into rebellion and ruin. Even in Lowlandia, women loved their children more than their husbands. The brute, the heavy-handed, and the giver of no love would find little compassion.

The situation further stabilized when loyal knights returned home victorious from their Umberland campaign. They brought stories of new allies in the half-beasts and of Lord Avery, who had brought them airships.

This wave of triumph sparked a surge of popularity among the people, once again reaffirming their trust in the Black Lord. With the top conspirator dead and the loyal knights reinforcing Sigmund’s defenses, South Hill weathered the winter and spring in relative peace.

And the final blow came with the arrival of two black airships at South Hill, bringing Sir Morton and the Black Knights. The local knights feared them, and seeing Sir Morton riding through the countryside at his leisure was an effective show of force. It made clear that the Black Lord was watching.

As the salty wind picked up speed, Sigmund noticed how much Agatha had grown. The scrawny child from last year had blossomed in just three seasons. Apparently, she had been starving and malnourished, but regular nutritious meals had quickly turned things around. Still, he paused his gittern and asked, "Agatha, how old are you again?"

"Why, I'm thirteen."

Sigmund couldn't help but measure her with his eyes again and concluded she was nearly an adult.

"Is something wrong?" Agatha asked.

Sigmund stroked his chin and quietly decided to hire a good educator for her. The previous one in South Hill had only taught her to read. He wanted her properly educated, not just literate, so she could find a good husband. "Agatha," he began like an older brother, "I doubt you're only thirteen years old."

Agatha pouted. "I'm shy, but not stupid."

"Are your father and mother good with numbers?"

"Of course," she said confidently.

"And they taught you?"

"Yes, I'm the smartest one," she said proudly.

"Then tell me, what's the number before seven?"

Agatha paused, her face showing intense thought, then blurted, "Eight!"

Sigmund’s lips curled into a teasing smile. "And now, what's after ten?"

She paused again, knitting her brow, before venturing, "Twelve?"

Sigmund chuckled. "I need to find another educator for you. You'll need to master numbers and calculation."

"Is it really necessary?" she asked sheepishly, disliking the idea.

"Lord Lansius is very good at calculation, you know?"

She squinted and said cautiously, "So?"

"When you meet him again, he'll ask you plenty of calculations. If you fail..."

Agatha swallowed hard. "Understood. I'll study hard after we get back home."

"No, we don't need to wait. Even in a fishing village like this, there should be someone who can teach you calculation."

"Why don't you teach me?" she suggested.

"Because skalds and minstrels should live free," he said with a grin. "Also, you need to get better at cooking. More than brown grains and blood sausages. You'll be of marriageable age soon."

Agatha was surprised. "But I'm only fifteen," she protested.

"You just said thirteen earlier."

"Yes, I'm thirteen now, but this winter I should be fifteen," she said uncertainly, a frown painting her brows.

Sigmund chuckled and sang in a clear voice, "Agatha, wise beyond your years, but counting seems to bring you tears."

"No," she protested, her cheeks turning red.

"Agatha, clever as a fox in spring, yet numbers aren’t your strongest thing."

"Captain," she pleaded, embarrassed, as even the nomads began to laugh.

"Agatha, bright as morning’s light, yet numbers tangle in your sight."

"Alright, alright, I'll study!" she muttered, turning her face toward a coconut tree to hide her embarrassment.

Sigmund softened, setting aside his teasing. "Oh girl, it's more likely you're sixteen going on seventeen."

He had noticed the young riders watching her with interest. It wouldn’t be a problem if they were firstborn sons who might inherit land, but most were second or third sons with little to their name. Sigmund didn’t wish for Agatha to live a life of hardship.

She turned back to him and sighed, "But large numbers are hard."

Sigmund laughed. "You’d better learn fast, or people who pay you might trick you."

"But you’re the one who pays me..."

"And do you think I’m trustworthy?" Sigmund asked threateningly, his fingers poised on the gittern.

Cornered and frightened of being paid less, or embarrassed by another ballad mocking her incompetence, Agatha resolved to learn. The group settled into village life, pitching in with chores, learning to fish, and, in Agatha’s case, studying alongside a few young riders.

For days, life drifted by in an easy rhythm, broken only by the murmur of waves and the chatter of villagers. It was a peaceful routine, and for a time, Sigmund allowed himself to believe they could simply wait until the caravan arrived.

That illusion shattered on a bright, cloudless day. Six fishermen returned in a frenzy, swearing they saw a fleet of ships crossing the gulf. Behind them followed dozens more, their decks bristling with armed men. The fishermen had glimpsed the battle, and not a single vessel escaped capture.

The village erupted in worry and fear. A handful of brave men readied their boats to investigate, but Sigmund knew this was far beyond what their small force could face. It most likely involved the barony to the south, Corinthia.

***