Horizon of War Series

Chapter 214: Glass and Smoke

Glass and Smoke

Arvena

Sir Justin received reports from his men. The situation had developed rapidly. The Crown Prince had made his move, and more mounted scouts had been spotted on the outskirts of the forest. The enemy had likely discovered Lord Arte's hideout in a village beyond the forest and was planning where to make their assault.

But so had their own scouts, who had gathered intelligence about the Crown Prince's strength. His column consisted of around four hundred fighting men and three hundred horsemen. This composition of men and horses was not typical for the Imperium but common among Northerners. Fortunately, it was also familiar to Sir Justin, who had seen similar tactics during his campaigns in the steppes of Lowlandia.

"Four hundred men, huh?" he muttered to himself.

"Indeed, Sir," one of the two scouts replied, looking at him with reverence. To them, Sir Justin was a figure of hope, the hero who had won the famed battle of Korelia."Good work. Report this to Captain Thomas as well," he instructed. The two scouts saluted and hurried off as ordered.

"Four hundred..." Sir Justin repeated, thinking aloud. Such a number meant the Crown Prince feared rebellion in Riverstead. "So, he’s worried about an uprising in the city."

This suggested Lord Arte had vast supporters inside the city, or that the Crown Prince was highly unpopular. If true, it was a crucial piece of information they could potentially exploit.

"Sir Justin, a moment," someone called from the crowd, hurrying over with two guards trailing behind.

The senior maester, as he preferred to be called, spoke hastily, his panic showing. "I’ve heard you plan to arrange an escort for me?"

"Indeed. You're going to Brunna. Midlandia is in turmoil, so you’ll wait there until I can guarantee safe passage to Korelia as per our earlier agreement."

"But Sir, why? I thought we agreed I’d help you bring down the target here."

Sir Justin met his gaze with understanding. "Walk with me." He gestured toward the woods where the demonstration had taken place two days ago.

They headed toward the woods, the two guards and Sir Justin’s squire trailing at a distance to give them privacy.

As they walked, Sir Justin began to whistle a light, carefree tune, perfect for a leisurely stroll. The senior maester seemed to enjoy it, his shoulders relaxing as the melody briefly lifted the tension lingering from their earlier conversation.

What he didn’t know was that it was all choreographed. Sir Justin had been waiting for this moment. The plan to send the trio to Brunna was true, but it was also a setup.

As the tune ended, the knight revealed to the old maester, "Despite the demonstration, Lord Arte still has his doubts."

"So the Lord is still uncertain?" The old maester ventured, his tone measured but betraying a hint of disappointment. "Even after witnessing its power and accuracy..."

"I think the issue isn’t the weapon," Sir Justin explained.

The senior maester halted. Sir Justin stopped as well, their eyes meeting. "If it’s not the weapon, then what?"

"I suspect it’s a difference in objectives," Sir Justin explained. "We want to capture the Crown Prince alive."

The old maester furrowed his brow but replied without pause, "We’ll bring down the horse, clearing the way for you to seize him."

"Many believe you’ll ‘accidentally’ kill the Crown Prince."

The old man hesitated before answering, "Accidents can happen in the chaos of battle."

"We’re afraid your employer ultimately wants the Crown Prince dead."

"That’s a baseless accusation," the maester snapped, his anger breaking through. "We’re here to help, not cause trouble."

"It stems from your own words." Sir Justin raised an eyebrow. "You did say it was a weapon fit for a king."

"That was only to draw your notice," he explained, sounding drained. "To be frank, we were scared out of our wits. The men who seized us could’ve passed for brigands."

Sir Justin chuckled softly, his amusement evident. "I sympathize with your situation. Still, your daring to approach us and your motives raise questions." He continued, "Whoever employed you must be powerful. That makes us cautious."

The old maester looked disheartened, his confidence waning.

Sir Justin studied him, pleased, and decided to plant his poison. "But to tell you the truth: personally, I’m fine with it."

The old man’s eyes widened.

He continued, "If killing the Crown Prince baits the King, then I don’t see a problem."

The old maester gave a small smile but remained silent, neither confirming nor denying.

Sir Justin saw through the man’s lie. He didn’t need quick confirmation and intentionally shifted the subject. "Are culverins widely used in the Eastern Kingdom?"

"I can’t speak for Navalnia, but in the past, Mercantile Kingdom kings did use them on their ships. However, they were lesser versions with questionable range and power. That’s why they stopped using them; too costly and complicated for too little practical use."

"So, they’re still fairly uncommon even in the Royal Army?"

"For portable ones like this, yes," the old maester added. "Common soldiery requires no such powerful weapons."

"So, it’s only useful for assassination," Sir Justin probed.

"We’re not assassins," the man replied, "but it can be used for that."

Piqued, Sir Justin asked, "If not for that, then what exactly is its purpose?"

"It’s definitely useful in naval battles. But right now, the destructive power is too small to make it worthwhile. However, in sieges, we can help silence parts of fortifications from below. The culverin can’t knock down walls or gates, but we can render a defensive tower or gatehouse useless, enabling men to scale ladders in better conditions."

"But the weapon is slow to fire," Sir Justin pointed out.

"If it’s for sieges, then we’ll employ plenty."

"Do you have that many? That sounds expensive."

"We can produce them in a few months, and I’m certain a city is worth many times our services," the senior maester replied confidently. He didn’t mention the 350 gold coins already paid for this mission, nor the additional 300 promised upon completion, most of it a risk premium for targeting such a high-profile individual. With that payment, he could finally fund his own workshop and begin production.

Sir Justin chuckled, leaning in slightly. "Maester, I’m ready to act on your behalf. But you need to confirm your actual orders. With that, I can bring your case before the council."

The senior maester hesitated, his expression unreadable. Sir Justin waited, about to continue walking, when the man spoke. "Wait."

Sir Justin stopped and turned to him.

"I’ll reveal my employer’s wishes." He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "The Crown Prince must die. As for the King..." He shook his head.

"So you plan to leave after the mission is done?" Sir Justin asked, his mind already working to narrow down the actor behind the trio.

"I’m always open to another opportunity," the maester replied firmly without revealing his price. "But it has to be reasonable and not suicidal."

***

Lansius

The emerging Lord of Midlandia worked tirelessly in his spacious study chamber. Compared to Korelia, Canardia Castle was far more impressive. Yet, by regional standards, it was still modest compared to the largest and most opulent castles. Inside, tall shelves lined the walls, packed with scrolls and ledgers, while polished oak desks bore quills, wax seals, and ink pots. There was even a square table with chairs for meetings and discussions, making the room more practical and functional.

One of Lansius' additions was several maps mounted in wooden frames and protected by clear glass, allowing them to be displayed on the walls like paintings or tapestries. The custom glass alone made them a marvel, but for him, it was strictly functional. It allowed him to visualize strategies more effectively than spreading maps flat on a table. Perhaps it even stirred faint memories of the large screens he might have once used.

He often sat close to them, studying local maps while keeping the larger Imperium map within sight. This gave him a broader perspective he had previously lacked. Now, he was familiarizing himself with Lowlandia and its neighboring regions. The next step involved sending men to assess the accuracy of the maps and improve them where needed. For the most vital areas, his airship would carry a bird’s-eye map maker to chart new details.

The castle’s previous owner had been a high-ranking noble captured at the Battle of Cascasonne. However, this castle had never been his primary residence, as his House maintained larger estates elsewhere. Despite winning a decisive victory, Lansius had shown leniency, freeing the noble and eleven of his relatives and confidants in exchange for Canardia and the rights to retain the remainder of their estate. They now served him as part of the Blue Midlandia Army.

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The name "Blue" Midlandia set them apart from Reginald’s "New Midlandia Army."

Canardia City, now the center of his rule, bustled with activity. Messengers arrived daily, carrying leather pouches and sealed scrolls under heavy escort. Most delivered routine updates on governance, so numerous that Lansius relied on his army of scribes to sort them. It was demanding work, but Lansius had been successful in recruiting more scribes and clerks, bringing their numbers close to a hundred.

Much of the information dealt with routine affairs, but a few letters arrived from distant regions, mostly containing minor updates from Korelia, Korimor, and Nicopola, as well as news regarding the upcoming caravan trade. What caught Lansius’ attention, however, were letters from Lord Robert and the Lord of Galdia. They reported no movements or provocations from Edessa.

In response, Lansius instructed them to relax their troops, fearing that prolonged readiness for an attack that never came would hurt morale. He believed the risk of an assault on White Lake had greatly diminished, given the shifting situation in Midlandia.

Another letter that he read came from Sir Michael, who was stationed in Ornietia. Lansius had entrusted him with establishing a workshop fit for musket production. While Calub had been tasked with the same in Korelia, Lansius knew he couldn’t afford to rely on a single production site. Delays and low output were risks he refused to take.

His plan was to produce several batches, stockpile them, and then shut down the production line to repurpose it for something less sensitive. This approach would reduce the chances of anyone uncovering his secret.

Still, the issue of black powder remained. Anyone with the knowledge to produce it would undoubtedly be clever enough to recognize its destructive potential. Such a person could replicate it and sell the formula to others.

The only solution Lansius could think of was to keep the knowledge tightly controlled. He would buy the loyalty of an alchemist and their entire family, binding them in a multi-generational contract that secured their futures in exchange for secrecy. This way, his secret would become theirs, and both parties would have a vested interest in safeguarding it.

He had already sent an additional letter to Calub, asking for recommendations for an alchemist family that fit the criteria.

Aside from new weapons, Lansius also needed to address his supply of bolts. They were costly, and with more cities to defend, the demand had grown significantly. Managing this served as a constant reminder that war was a bottomless drain on resources, even for the victor.

A slight misstep in money management could leave him poor and unable to feed his army, inviting disaster upon his House. Thus, Lansius carried out his due diligence.

Next on his list were alchemist fire bottles and burning sands. These were rare commodities in Lowlandia but more readily available in Midlandia. Large orders had already been placed, which would please the alchemist guild and further align them with his cause.

The feeling would likely be mutual, as Lansius knew firsthand how devastating these tools could be when used in the right situations.

Another vital issue to tackle was food production. Fortunately, the land was fertile and productive, and much of the population consisted of farmers, whether indentured or freemen. With the civil war concluded and peace maintained, Lansius expected a good harvest to refill the region's dwindling grain supplies.

His men had already been sent to assess the situation, and their reports confirmed that most crops planted last spring were growing optimally despite the civil war. His swift campaign through Midlandia had caused little damage. The only affected area was around Cascasonne, but Lansius was not responsible for that.

"I wonder what Bengrieve is thinking," he muttered, looking out the window, though he was not certain if it even faced Cascasonne or Elandia.

Truthfully, he was not looking forward to meeting Bengrieve.

While such a meeting could settle many issues, Lansius also feared it might cast a wild dice.

Although he did not consider himself ambitious, Lansius was not about to give up on Midlandia. He believed he had the means to transform this troubled land into something significantly better.

Next on his list was winter-proofing billets for his troops and garrisons, along with setting up an optical telegraph system between vital towns. However, this plan depended on a shipment of binoculars from Ekionia. The southern trade routes were expected to deliver them to Korelia by mid-summer, and Lansius could expect their arrival in Canardia around late summer.

The binoculars, similar to those installed on airships, would enable the optical telegraph system to use colored flags for transmitting messages across distances. With trained crews, it could potentially relay information between towns and cities within minutes, drastically improving communication and coordination.

For now, though, Lansius remained content relying on the Hunter Guild’s hawk mail.

He had finally formalized cooperation with the Hunter Guild. Through them, he aimed to mediate relations with the Assassins, who remained cautious yet showed signs to discuss further.

As the Hunter Guild's official patron, Lansius was granted rights to station Hunter Guild members in strategic locations throughout Midlandia and Lowlandia. Soon, he would be able to rely on hawks to communicate swiftly with Sigmund in South Hill and other remote areas that were normally difficult to reach due to distance.

Another priority was the Shogunate Korelia Yield Bank. Lansius had asked Dame Danielle and her staff to travel to Canardia, knowing it could provide a great source of funds for rebuilding efforts and future projects.

Everything on his list seemed promising, but the last one troubled him. The issue was talent and the accompanying risk of corruption.

With limited skilled personnel, Lansius was forced to rely on local administrators to handle governance. Though they held no real power, since his garrisons were loyal to his banner, they were still responsible for executing orders and managing resources.

Lansius had no way to ensure their loyalty. Meanwhile, it was far too easy for them to accept bribes, falsify records, embezzle funds, or fall into corrupt practices. If left unchecked, corruption could lead to utter ruin, with stolen funds even used to raise an army against him.

He exhaled softly, weighing his options. He couldn’t rely on the military to force compliance forever, as that would open a different set of issues. However, if used strategically, it might serve as effective shock therapy.

The issue was, he needed to go big to make it effective.

"To stun them so thoroughly that people would be wary, at least for the rest of the year," he muttered to himself, his decision taking shape.

***

Central Midlandia

Inside the Grand Chamber of Krakusa, one of the oldest cities in Midlandia, nearly two dozen of the region’s most influential figures assembled. Hailing from towns and cities across the region, they met behind closed doors to gossip about their new ruler.

The atmosphere was merry, showing no hint of urgency or panic. Long-serving attendants moved gracefully, refilling goblets with wine and setting down trays of delicacies such as smoked duck liver, horse tongue pies, and honeyed fruits. Despite empty granaries plaguing the countryside, famine had not touched them. Their vast holdings boasted private stores, ensuring their tables remained plentiful.

Another guest arrived late. "My apologies," he announced as he entered, brushing dust from his sleeves. "I just returned from Canardia, where I had to bend my sorry knee."

The room stirred with soft chuckles and amused murmurs. As if on cue, the servants withdrew and closed the door behind them.

The host, a large, chubby man in his fifties, leaned forward with a grin. "So, how’s the new master?"

"Agreeable," the guest replied, pausing to sip from a goblet resting on the table before him. "Firm, fierce, and hard to read, but rough around the edges. He doesn’t seem as sophisticated or capable as the stories made him out to be. Honestly, I fear the Lady more than him."

Laughter rippled through the hall, with many taking the boast at face value.

"So much for the mighty tales of the Black Lord," the host commented in jest.

"My son saw him the other day," a lady said. "He described the Lord as commanding but lacking refinement. He commands frightening knights and soldiers, yet compared to Lord Bengrieve, he lacks elegance."

"So the tales of him being nothing more than a country bumpkin are true, then?" another remarked.

Dry, dismissive laughter followed. Yet, a more cautious and sensible noble spoke up. "But the new master is well-liked by the common folk."

"How quaint," someone sneered. "The poor, uneducated, and unwashed adore a ruler as common as themselves."

Mocking laughter rippled through the hall, with some nobles clutching their goblets as if toasting the insult.

"The freeborn love him because he lets them dream of power," quipped the head of a rising House. "Yet all they’ll feel is the grip of our firm hands."

There were nods of agreement as goblets clinked.

"Then there’s nothing to worry about," the host declared. "If he’s as unimpressive as we’ve heard, we can resume our businesses as usual."

"That goes without question," declared the senior-most noble, a landlord with vast properties, farms, bakeries, and workshops. "Our Houses have endured for centuries. No petty usurper can change that."

The host nodded in agreement. "As Reginald proved, whoever holds the title of Lord makes little difference. We’ll comply with his demands, as long as they’re not too costly. From what I hear, he only asks for crossbows and bolts."

"How warlike of him," someone mocked, prompting a ripple of laughter.

The host leaned back, his voice carrying weight. "Even if the tales about his victories are true, this isn’t Lowlandia. We have hundreds of towns and cities. He lacks talented men to enforce his will on all of us."

"And if he tries, we can bribe his people, or introduce them to an accident," another added.

Smirks spread, and the men exchanged knowing nods.

"Besides," one said, "there’s no talent in Lowlandia. I’ve even heard their knights can barely read."

Laughter erupted, filling the chamber. Goblets were refilled, and the mood lightened as they indulged in their supposed superiority.

Then came a soft knock against the door, yet it startled them. A few shuddered, their sudden stillness betraying unease.

The host rose, excused himself, and opened the door to a slit. A guard captain stood there, looking uneasy.

"What is it?"

"A group of armed horsemen, my Lord. They bear the banner of the new Lord."

The news startled everyone. They rose abruptly, sobering themselves. Despite all their mockery and boastful words, they were deeply afraid of the Lord Shogun. Only a fool would belittle someone who had won war after war with such ferocity that even their former Lord, Reginald, couldn’t hold a candle to him, despite commanding a much larger forces.

Whispers of spies rippled through the hall. Had someone betrayed them?

"What should we do?" one asked, already sweating.

"Does he have spies in the city?" another ventured nervously.

The host raised his hand, his voice sharp. "Relax. I’ll handle this. At most, it’s the new governor or supervisor. This will be simple, at worst, an inconvenience. Let’s see just how capable our new Lowlandian supervisor really is."

...

The host and several prominent nobles formed a welcoming committee, their robes immaculate and their expressions carefully practiced. They had watched the approaching riders from the walls and, judging by their numbers, found little reason for concern. Confidence swelled among them as they prepared to greet their new governor or supervisor.

"Such a young one," one noble murmured, eyeing the lead horseman as the riders dismounted. "He’ll be easy to manipulate."

The remark earned a few soft chuckles and nods of agreement. Their confidence swelling as they sized up the newcomers. Others smirked outright, already imagining how easily they might steer the young officer to suit their interests.

"Hail," the young officer called out, his voice clear but lacking the weight of authority.

"Greetings!" the host replied, stepping forward with a polite bow. "Are you, perhaps, the newly appointed administrator of Krakusa?"

The young officer flushed, momentarily caught off guard. He glanced at his fellow horsemen, but they offered no explanation but smirks and quiet chuckles.

The host and his companions exchanged amused smiles. They hadn’t expected Lowlandians to appear so clumsy and ill-prepared.

Finally, the young officer cleared his throat. "Good nobles, there must be some mistake. I’m not escorting an administrator, and I’m certainly not one."

"I see," the host replied, keeping his tone polite. "Then what brings you to Krakusa?"

"You may ask my master. He’s the one leading this inspection."

The nobles turned toward the horsemen, expecting someone to step forward, but no one moved. Their confusion grew as murmurs spread among them. "Forgive our curiosity, but where is he?" the host pressed.

"My master should already be at the castle," the young officer replied.

"H-huh?" the older noble stammered, his earlier smugness fading.

"My master," the officer replied casually, "is riding an airship."

"A-airship?" The host echoed, his voice faltering. Whispers rippled through the nobles as panic flickered in their eyes. They quickly turned instinctively toward the castle. Only then did they notice its gargantuan presence looming above the battlements. Sleek and ominously black, its hull gleamed like polished obsidian, reflecting the last rays of the waning sun.

The sight of the leviathan stole the breath from many. They had heard tales of airships but had never expected to see one descend upon their city. Worse, it implied that whoever had been sent ranked unmistakably high in the hierarchy.

"Why didn’t we see it?" one of the nobles hissed, his nervousness poorly hidden.

The young officer allowed himself a smile. "My master prefers it that way; climbing high as he nears the target, then diving down at the last moment."

"W-who is your master?" the host asked, struggling to maintain composure.

Straightening his posture, the young officer’s eyes gleamed with pride. "His name is Sir Morton of Three Hills, Captain of the famed Black Knights, Lord Shogun’s most trusted Mage Knight, and more recently the Butcher of Kapua and the bane of Lubina."

***