Horizon of War Series

Chapter 217: Thunder Without Rain

Thunder Without Rain

Canardia

After a leisurely ride, Lansius and Tanya returned to the castle just as the setting sun bathed its walls in a warm amber glow. They took time to clean up before supper. Lansius chose the quiet seclusion of the Grand Chamber on the upper floor, where the family could dine in privacy. Meanwhile, Sir Omin presided over the lively supper for the staff and retinue in the spacious Great Hall.

The day before, Lansius had instructed the cook to prepare a dish using the dry pasta he had brought from Korelia. When he visited the kitchen after his morning court session, they delivered exactly what he had envisioned: a carbonara made with hard, salty sheep’s cheese, finely grated to blend smoothly with the pasta. It was mixed with fried salted meat and a pinch of pepper for flavor, then served with freshly baked white bread.

It was a simple recipe, and Lansius wasn’t sure his family would enjoy it. However, the chef assured him that, despite its plain appearance, the taste was worth serving at tonight’s supper.

Now at supper, when the spaghetti alla carbonara arrived, Audrey leaned closer, her eyes alight with curiosity, and asked, "Is that what you’ve been working on in the kitchen?"

"You’ve heard of that?" Lansius was surprised but realized that she was the de facto head of security, her old role as his squire had never really ceased.

Audrey gave an amused smirk, prompting Lansius to chuckle softly. He then turned his attention to Arryn and Tanya, who sat with them at the table. "Shall we try it? It’s a recipe from my hometown, but I’m not sure if you’ll like it."

"I’m sure it’s lovely. It looks like so much work was put into this," Arryn replied respectfully, admiring the thin strands served on lavishly decorated ceramic plates.

"Do you like it?" Lansius asked. "Is it too salty?"

"Not at all!" Tanya beamed. "It looks so strange with these long, thin strands, but it tastes really good." She turned eagerly to her mother. "Try it, Mom. You’ll love it!"

Arryn didn’t hesitate any longer and dug in. She genuinely seemed to enjoy the dish, which brought Lansius a wave of relief. Glancing to his side, he noticed Audrey experimenting by stuffing the spaghetti into the bread.

Whoa, a Japanese spaghetti bread? That’s way too advanced.

Audrey took a bold bite, her expression shifting as she seemed to weigh her opinion on the impromptu creation.

Lansius couldn’t help but chuckle at her culinary adventure. Finally, Audrey gave a decisive nod of approval.

"This is good. Quick to eat. Perfect for combat rations," she remarked.

"Ah," Lansius exclaimed, suddenly realizing what she was trying to do. "But you’re not supposed to eat it that way."

"This one bite is just an experiment," she reassured him.

"Good choice of words," Lansius said, tucking his fork into the spaghetti and taking a bite.

Mm... this is seriously good.

He paused to savor the dish. It wasn’t creamy but had a bold, savory flavor, with the extraordinary goat cheese and fried salted meat giving it a satisfying lift. It struck him that this might be the best version he had ever tasted. Although his memories of the past were unclear, he instinctively felt that he hadn’t lived a life with a personal chef or dined in fancy restaurants.

The castle kitchen staff had clearly gone all out to impress him and his family. The old chef’s skill and experience were evident in every bite. Even with an unfamiliar dish, the chef had managed to prepare it flawlessly after only a few attempts. Perhaps, to someone of the chef’s caliber, cooking spaghetti—while new and uncommon—was hardly a challenge.

"I feel like this needs an egg yolk," Audrey suddenly remarked.

Lansius raised an eyebrow, amused. "How can you tell? It does, but not from a duck. It needs one from a much smaller bird."

"Ah, I see." Audrey nodded thoughtfully.

From the corridor, Margo appeared, escorting Valerie, who wore a simple gown of soft, broken white linen. The fabric flowed gracefully, its modest cut accented by a braided sash at her waist.

Lansius, remaining seated to avoid making everyone stand, simply waved Valerie over.

"My apologies for interrupting," Valerie said politely.

"Not at all. Please," Lansius said, and Audrey gestured for her to take the seat across from her, next to Tanya.

"Mother, Tanya, this is Valerie, a friend."

"We’ve met," Tanya replied excitedly.

Mother Arryn added, "We’ve met several times here. Lady Audrey introduced us. And now that I think about it, even in Cascasonne, Lady Valerie helped us a lot. She made sure we never lacked anything."

"Ah," Lansius muttered, turning to Valerie with grateful eyes.

"Hold up." Valerie raised a hand. "No need for grateful words. You treated me well in Korelia, and now you’ve saved me too. So it’s only natural that I looked after your family."

"We’re so close, we even shared a bed in Korelia," Audrey quipped, tossing out a provoking line. Tanya and Arryn exchanged amused glances, while Valerie blinked and gave an awkward stare.

"Still, let’s have a toast," Lansius dodged the issue with a slight smirk as the servant stepped forward to pour mead for everyone.

Lansius glanced at Audrey, and she gave an approving nod before raising her goblet. "To my dearest friend. May you be blessed with health, wealth, and romance."

Amused smiles spread across the table as they raised their goblets high. "Cheers."

Valerie flushed slightly but took a sip gratefully.

Audrey, mindful of her pregnancy, only took a light sip before handing her goblet to Lansius, who finished it off since the drink wasn’t particularly strong.

The room settled back into the meal. Mother Arryn, clearly pleased with the dish, continued to eat heartily, savoring each bite.

"My Lord, I’m only here because this dish is truly delicious," Valerie said lightheartedly, careful not to disturb the others as they ate. She had already enjoyed her serving earlier in her room, preferring to take her supper alone.

"Indeed, right? What’s the name in your mother’s tongue?" Lansius asked, pleased that she recognized and enjoyed the dish.

"This is carbonara, right? Then it's the same."

"Yes, it’s the only dish I could think of without the big red cherry."

"Tomate?" Valerie guessed.

"Oh! I didn’t realize it sounded the same," Lansius replied, cheerfully. His eyes drifted to the table, noticing that most plates were empty. It seemed the pasta had been well received. But one plate remained half-finished.

"Tanya, is it too spicy for you?" Lansius asked.

"No. I like it a lot."

Lansius frowned slightly. "Then why have you only eaten half?"

"Umm... I’m going to split this with Tia. She’s a friend, and I think she’ll like this."

Lansius was taken aback and felt a swell of warmth at her thoughtfulness. He turned to the maid in waiting and said, "I think we’ll have another serving of this dish. Three plates?" He glanced at Audrey, who nodded in approval.

"Me too," Valerie said without hesitation, glancing at Tanya approvingly. Tia had been like an adopted daughter to her.

"Four then." Lansius turned to Arryn. "Mother, how about another?"

"I’ll pass. You youngsters need to eat more. This much is enough for me."

"Mother..." Lansius said with mild disapproval. "You’ve been working hard. I heard you were even out this morning milking goats and cows."

"That’s why I’m getting fatter. They keep giving me bread and butter every morning," Arryn replied, her voice warm and motherly.

The room filled with soft laughter as the conversation lightened. Lansius turned to Tanya and reassured her. "Since everyone loves this, we’ll likely cook a similar dish for everyone tomorrow."

"Supper at the Great Hall tomorrow, then?" Audrey asked.

"Yes. We can’t keep bothering Sir Omin to host every day. I bet he’s busy."

"He seems to enjoy it. It helps him build a reputation and lets people approach him for all kinds of dealings. Isn’t that the plan?"

"Sort of," Lansius admitted. "The morning courts are way too formal and they're too scared to offend me. So Sir Omin at supper is better for informal dealings."

Margo approached the table, stepping into his role as Lansius’ squire. He spoke lightly, his words carrying a coded undertone. "My Lord, two letters have arrived."

"Gratitude, Margo. I’ll see to them later." Lansius offered an acknowledging nod.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Audrey’s expression tightened. She knew it wasn’t just letters, but something far more pressing.

...

After supper and some lighthearted moments with his family and close friends, Lansius resumed his work, heading to a different chamber for a private meeting. Audrey accompanied him, eager to learn more about the situation ahead. Walking hand in hand, with Francisca as their escort, they arrived to find the Hunter Guildsman and Sterling waiting.

The athletic-looking man always appeared calm and in control. He was the same agent introduced by Lord Avery and had been attached to Lansius since the events in the Umberland mountains. To everyone but the Lord and Lady, there was an air of mystery about him, stemming from the secrecy of his work and his handling of the latest information carried by majestic hawks.

Meanwhile, Sterling had grown since his days as a young squire. He was taller, tanned, and had proven his mettle in two daring raids alongside Sir Morton and the SAR. Calm, capable, and wiser than his years, he now played a dual role as both squire and intelligence officer, assisting Farkas, who couldn’t manage all the dealings with the Orange Skalds alone. As a result, Sterling continued to shadow Lansius, just as he had accompanied him on the ride earlier.

"My Lord, My Lady," the Hunter Guildsman and Sterling greeted them.

Lansius and Audrey took their seats as the Hunter began his report. He spoke of a crisis in the far south: pirates, likely supported by Corinthia, had ambushed the first caravan group participating in the Southern Trade.

Audrey glanced at Lansius, who showed no immediate reaction, listening intently instead of expressing surprise.

Next, Sterling presented a report from the Orange Skalds operating in Midlandia. He detailed how fanatic supporters continued to spread Saint Nay’s teachings and recruit members in many towns and cities as if nothing had changed.

After hearing their reports, Lansius sat in silence, deep in thought. In his hands, he held thin, delicate letters, unfolded as references. This pirate had dealt him a devastating personal blow. His precious Ekionia binoculars and the telescope for his optical telegraph were now gone.

They're going to pay for this...

Sigmund, who had written the first message, had likely ridden all the way to Three Hills to send a hawk message relayed through Korelia. The original plan had been for Sigmund to receive the caravan and serve as its rear guard, while the more charismatic Lord Jorge escorted it with his cavalry to Korelia and beyond.

But now, everything had unraveled.

"Haven’t we heard about pirate activity in that area before?" Audrey asked the guildsman.

"Indeed, My Lady, but most believed it to be a minor threat," the guildsman replied. "There were only reports of a few boats seasonally raiding coastal villages. Nothing suggested they were capable of attacks like this."

"The caravan came with a large number of boats," Lansius said. "They likely had ships assigned for protection. The fact that they were all captured means we are dealing with a fleet large enough to overwhelm whatever escort the Dawn had."

Audrey looked annoyed at this unforeseen trouble. "Threats from so far south. I never expected this," she muttered.

"Obstacles," Lansius offered his opinion.

Audrey nodded in agreement, knowing that it posed no direct threat to their Lowlandian domains but would certainly impede their growth. Turning to Sterling, she asked, "What about Saint Nay? How does she keep gaining support when we’ve blockaded the entire hill leading to the Monastery?"

Sterling reported, "Our agents say the Healers Guild is thriving off the sick and desperate. Those with incurable diseases, little hope of recovery, or no means to afford expensive medicines or treatments are flocking to the fanatics."

"Do they have Saint Candidates acting as their leaders? Can we capture them?" Audrey inquired.

"If there are any, our agents will learn of them. But so far, there are no reports of such appearances. Likely, they are only gathering people locally by selling the promise to meet the Living Saint in the near future."

Lansius glanced at Sterling and said thoughtfully, his tone laden with reflection, "The promise of healing is a powerful lure for recruitment."

Audrey’s expression darkened. "If this keeps up, these people could be rallied to take up arms against us."

"Yes. Saint Nay is likely trying to gain leverage before our eventual talks," Lansius remarked, recognizing the sly cunning of his opponent.

"She makes me sick," Audrey blurted out. "Her teachings promise healing for the living and salvation for the dead, but in reality, she’s sending people to die in her wars."

Lansius met her gaze warmly. "I know," he said, reassuring her. "Clementine has warned me about Saint Nay."

Sensing a lull, Sterling spoke, "What we know about her is sparse. Saint Nay supposedly has lived for a remarkably long time. Records indicate she befriended Lord Bengrieve's grandfather and was one of the earliest Saint Candidates."

Lansius raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "So, you’re saying she’s been around since the beginning?"

"It’s hard to believe, but that’s what our findings suggest," Sterling confirmed. "She’s considered one of the Healer Guild's founders, even one of the very first Healers. It’s said that she’s blessed by the Ancients, which has allowed her to maintain a youthful appearance."

"Then she must be over... 130 or even 150 years old?" Lansius mused, stroking his chin.

"First non-mage healer, huh?" Audrey muttered. "Her magic must be highly unnatural to live that long. But why didn’t we know about her sooner? Someone like her should be famous."

The Hunter cleared his throat softly, and Lansius motioned for him to speak. "Among the Hunters Guild, it’s no secret that Lord Bengrieve confined Nay to the monastery for the last decade, keeping her from gaining influence. Nay was even bypassed several times by younger figures for the role of Head of Monastery."

"So, only now has she taken power?" Lansius ventured.

The Hunter exchanged glances with Sterling, who answered, "Yes. We heard that she launched an internal coup. We don’t know the details, and even other Saint Candidates, like Clementine and her sisters, remain in the dark. But one day, Nay simply declared herself a Saint, took control of the Guild and Order, and no one was able to stop her."

Lansius nodded slowly, deep in thought. "For a founder and the first Healer in the human realm to be confined like that... What kind of chaos, if not madness, could she have caused?"

Audrey, ever pragmatic, steered the conversation back to the pressing matter. "With Nay now confined to the monastery, shouldn’t we focus on her fanatics in public? Shouldn't we capture them to stop the spread?"

Lansius hesitated before finally shaking his head. His knowledge of fanaticism, occultism, and radical movements made him cautious. "Suppressing them will backfire, earning them more sympathy and drawing even more followers. At the end of the day, they’re just people desperate for medical assistance. We need to fight them in the minds, not physically."

However, he knew it was easier said than done. For now, he had no concrete plan aside from organizing a weekly medical field camp for the poor. He could send his medical staff in training along with the physician on duty to gain experience. It wouldn’t be cheap, but if it helped win hearts and minds while countering the cult’s influence, it would be well worth the cost.

He paused, knitting his brows, and muttered, "Something doesn’t feel right."

The three listened closely, and Audrey asked, "What doesn’t feel right?"

"The issue in the South," Lansius explained, his frown deepening. "Last year, I received a report about Corinthia. Our agent described it as little more than a glorified fishing village. For a barony like that to pull off an ambush of such scale... Why does it feel so unlikely?"

Audrey tilted her head, puzzled.

Lansius watched her closely and explained, "This kind of well-timed, well-prepared ambush requires extensive intelligence gathering and preparation. Even if they knew about the crossing in advance, one cannot build boats overnight or convince so many people to act on short notice."

Audrey and the other two nodded, their expressions intent as they began to follow his reasoning.

With no objections raised, Lansius continued, "It feels like someone knew beforehand and prepared accordingly." He stopped abruptly, his gaze sharpening. He turned toward Sterling. "Where’s Dame Daniella? We need to summon her immediately."

"Right away." Sterling set off without delay to carry out the order.

The Hunter bowed his head and left as well. He had given his report, and the Lord and Lady didn’t ask him to stay.

With just the two of them remaining, Audrey asked, "Lans, what's the issue?"

"It's probably nothing," Lansius answered. "But if Daniella is in the area, I’d better ask her directly."

It was fortunate that he had summoned her to open a bank branch in Canardia. Her insight might shed more light on the possible crisis in the gulf between Dawn, Three Hills, and Corinthia.

***

Arvena, Riverstead

The Crown Prince and his four hundred men and three hundred riders continued their march deeper into the forest. Though wary of betrayal, as their scouts had found nothing but abandoned places, the monotony of the march gradually lulled him into his thoughts.

The scent of pine mingled with the earthy aroma of dried leaves, filling his nostrils and drawing his thoughts back to Riverstead. Since being granted the barony, he had done much for the city, revitalizing it as a center of manufacturing and trade.

While the scars of past wars and sieges still lingered, most of Riverstead’s economic functions had returned. His dealings with the guilds had brought the mines and workshops back to life, allowing the market to flourish once more. To support the recovery, food arrived in abundance from the northern provinces, and he intentionally kept prices low to attract more settlers to the city.

Under his leadership, Riverstead had endured two winters with relative ease. Even the poorest communities had enough firewood and woolen blankets to endure the cold.

The only major issue was the slave market and practices among the Northern people, something he felt powerless to change as his father allowed it based on tradition. Still, he was confident the city would grow into an even more important outpost. He envisioned constructing better outer curtain walls and better defenses, fortifications capable of withstanding the latest siege techniques.

For such plans to succeed, he needed to assess the city’s income and supplies carefully. As a man trained in administration, that meant poring over records. His mentors had instilled in him the importance of seeking truth not from officials’ words but from the numbers in their accounts.

In his work, time and again, he was fascinated by the records made by a lowly clerk in the municipal office. The calculations themselves were ordinary, but the methods the clerk used, sometimes bypassing conventional approaches, were intriguing. Upon checking his employment record, the Crown Prince discovered that the man had worked there for less than half a year but had completed an extraordinary volume of calculations, proving his innate talent.

The Crown Prince saw a kinship in this clerk, a camaraderie of intellect over brawn. Unfortunately, the man had fled the city during his father’s siege years ago.

Finding him had become one of the Crown Prince’s quiet ambitions. He imagined studying the clerk’s methods and perhaps convincing him to help him revolutionize record-keeping, building a stronger and cleaner administration, just as his mentor had envisioned.

What was his name again..?

He wondered as his troops bypassed a hilly stretch of the forest. A smile tugged at his lips as he recalled it. "Lansius," he murmured to himself.

The forest erupted with movement as troops gathered, their voices ringing through the trees with urgency. Scouts rushed to the front, their animated gestures pointing toward the towering pines. Around them, horses stamped impatiently, their riders exchanging hurried questions and terse replies.

Drawn by the commotion, the Crown Prince asked the nearest knight, "What’s going on?"

"My Prince, someone found a purple cloth hung on a tall pine tree," the knight reported.

"A purple cloth?" He frowned, puzzled by what felt like a riddle.

"Your Royal Highness, our agent reported that it wasn’t there yesterday," said the officer in charge of scouting.

Intrigued, they rode closer as their troops fanned out to form a wall of men, spears poised, swords drawn, and crossbows aimed at every suspicious corner.

As they neared the towering pine tree with the cloth hanging high above, one of the knights remarked, "A royal purple?"

Another ventured, "Purple cloth of that shade is expensive. What do you think it represents?"

"An offer of submission?" a Northern warrior suggested.

However, the Crown Prince saw it differently. Fortune had played a role, as a gentle breeze stirred the cloth to wave like a flag, showcasing its rich, deep purple hue and silvery embroidery. The finely woven hem, elaborately decorated, evoked bittersweet nostalgia. It reminded him of a cherished gift from his father, which his mother had later taken and unjustly given to his brother.

He remained motionless in his saddle when suddenly, a bright flash erupted from the hillside.

Thunder without rain?

He turned instinctively toward the sound. The Crown Prince never heard the booming roar of the bronze culverin as it fired, shattering the stillness. The shot, a lead ball the size of a baby’s fist, hurtled through the air at a speed far surpassing that of any crossbow.

In a heartbeat, the smooth, round ball traveled hundreds of paces and smashed into the Crown Prince's right gauntlet with devastating force before slamming into his breastplate. It struck harder than any arbalest or windlass bolt, carrying a force greater than a lance from a galloping warhorse. Yet the Centurian steel armor, commissioned by his father, absorbed the impact. Its fluting and hardened steel held firm, preventing penetration despite the overwhelming power of the solid lead ball.

The lead projectile deformed on impact, its force spreading across the surface of the steel plate. The breastplate held, but the sheer force struck him like a hammer. He tumbled from the saddle, falling sideways as his warhorse reared in panic.

Shocked, the nearest knights, squires, and guards failed to react in time as the Crown Prince crashed to the ground at a terrible angle. His body and limbs, still sluggish and unresponsive from the impact, had no chance to brace. Weighed down by armor, his head snapped forward at a brutal angle, his neck giving under the force.

When the echoing roar faded, the promising first Crown Prince of the Brigantes Kingdom was dead, his lifeless body sprawled across the forest floor while his stunned men rushed to him.

And so, the second war for Arvena began.

***