The air was thick with the sound of thunderous footsteps and rallying cries as Lord Robert’s n-at-arms charged toward the wooden fence. Though their stamina was failing and the enemy’s tactics unpredictable, their pride burned fiercely.
In the confined space, they hurled themselves against the sturdy gates with all their might, using their weight in place of a battering ram.
But the defenders were well-prepared. Ard with polearms and crossbows, they pushed back the attackers and made them pay a trendous price.
Despite the sacrifices of eleven of their bravest, the two-ter-tall wooden fence remained seemingly impregnable. Bloodied by a persistent stream of crossbow bolts, they could only drag the wounded along with their retreat.
Deep in the trenches, they licked their wounds and prepared for the inevitable.
The wooden gate groaned as it swung open. Many of its posts were bent or pushed from their spots. The chipped and splintered wooden fence stood as a testant to the relentless assault of their opponents.
Lansius erged from the gate in his battered gray brigandine, accompanied by his n who surveyed the scars of battle with him. “Hugo,” he called out with a weary yet resolute voice.
Hugo rested his crude halberd and replied, “Yes, boss?”
“Pick your best n,” Lansius commanded.
With a sigh of relief, Hugo turned to his n and rallied them. “Co on lads, for the finale.”
With Lansius and Thomas behind, Hugo led a contingent of his best n into battle. They quickly located Lord Robert’s exhausted troops and offered battle. An intense lee ensued, but it soon beca clear that the opponent’s n-at-arms were on their last leg.
The once fearso troops were reduced to a sorry lot. Their best fighters lay wounded or dead on the ground, leaving only the inexperienced ones to carry on. Their breathing was ragged, and their movents sluggish as the stifling heat and humidity drained them of their last bit of strength.
Trapped in the trench, with Lansius’s crossbown positioned to cut their escape, Lord Robert’s side had no choice but to surrender.
The deputy commander knelt before Lansius, casting aside his helt adorned with a great plu. He offered his sword as a token of surrender. It should have been the marshal doing this, but word had it that he had lost an eye to shrapnel.
“I accept your surrender and guarantee the safety of your n who lay down their arms.” Lansius reiterated the words whispered by Sir Justin, who had just arrived from his front.
His n clamored as Lansius finished the words. They shouted victory in loud emotional voices and threw their fists in the air. Many of them looked at Lansius intensely and made him uncomfortable.
“VICTORY!” The word was repeated and echoed, spreading through the trenches like wildfire.
Eventually, the fighting ceased in all the trenches. The defeated had accepted their fate and surrendered their weapons.
Sir Justin conversed with the deputy commander, while Hugo, Thomas, and their n ensured security. Guarding nurous hostages wasn’t easy, but they were like assets waiting to be cashed in.
Lansius stood with Carla, his temporary adjutant, away from the lilight. Suddenly, the sound of hooves followed by a large shadow lood over them. Carla instinctively drew her sword and readied her shield, but soon recognized the figure of a cavalrywoman on the ground level.
She must’ve trotted along the trenches until she found .
Lansius pulled his sallet off.
“So you survived?” Audrey asked as she opened her visor.
“You seem to be displeased?” Lansius retorted.
That made Audrey laugh so hard that her visor fell in a codic manner, causing Lansius and his n to burst into laughter as well.
Before the laughter subsided, Lansius ordered Carla to fetch back the ladder. They carefully flew their banner first to avoid getting shot by the other trenches by mistake. Audrey was already present, so there was a low risk, but Lansius insisted just to be safe.
Lansius climbed up after Carla and took in the sight of the battlefield, littered with casualties. Across the grassy plains, many were groaning in pain. So writhed, while a few calmly waited for the slow coming of death. The aftermath was always a sad scene.
In the distance, the enemy’s retreat had turned into a rout. The decisive factor had been the great show of force by Audrey’s cavalry they had made by forming a wide line, even though in truth, they only numbered twenty-seven riders. However, to the remaining enemy, their presence was evidently too much to bear.
On the other hand, Robert’s cavalry had left the field, unwilling to risk themselves by going near the trenches.
Lansius expected the rout, given the isolation of the enemy commanders and vanguard. The remaining levied n and ard villagers had little motivation, and the few knights and remaining n-at-arms had no choice but to retreat. Now, they no longer flew their banners.
“Get Sir Justin,” Lansius said to Carla.
Sir Justin erged from the trenches. “What do you need, Commander, a party?”
Lansius chuckled. “That can wait. Sir Justin, I see all those beautiful horses and knights. What do you think we should do?”
Sir Justin laughed and shouted down to his n, “Ti for a ransom hunt!”
The knight’s words were greeted with fierce jubilation from his n. Quickly, they made their way to the back trench, where they had hidden their horses.
Lansius saw Anci approaching. He looked mauled, but still alive and kicking as usual. “Anci, go nuts,” he said to encourage him.
“Haha, easy,” Anci replied. “Co, Hugo, don’t be a slowpoke,” he taunted Hugo, who had just climbed up.
“Fook you and your blasted horse,” Hugo cursed, drawing laughter from the troops. They knew Anci and Hugo had grown up together as squires to the sa knight.
Then sothing occurred to Lansius. “Audrey, let them surrender and arrange for talks if you could.”
With her visor returned to its place, Audrey threw a hard glance at Lansius before nodding once and spurring her horse forward.
Viscount Robert
In the aftermath of the rout, the enemy’s smaller yet fiercely motivated riders pursued Robert’s fleeing troops, scattering his other units from the battlefield. The only remnants of Robert’s forces were those who had sought refuge within their camp.
They attempted to barricade the camp, but they lacked sturdy walls for protection, and many had abandoned their posts, taking their mules or carts with them. In this dire situation, Robert’s loyalists urged him to flee. However, he knew his slow-moving baggage train would be easy prey for the enemy. When that happened, it would be a lost cause.
Right now, he still had the numbers to force the enemy into the negotiation table. However, Robert suspected the enemy held nurous hostages, enough to make his own nobles turn against him. Many of these captives were sons, uncles, or husbands of influential families.
Even if Robert managed to escape and secure himself within his castle, he would face internal conspiracies. The families of the hostages would be driven to overthrow Robert’s rule to ensure the safe return of their captive kin.
This precarious situation ant that a large number of Robert’s still nurous n and cavalry were reluctant to fight, fearful that their actions might endanger their relatives.
The enemy had triumphed, a fact Robert was forced to acknowledge. Believing that bravery was not only demonstrated in victory but also in defeat, he sat beneath his tent, patiently awaiting a negotiation while his n valiantly organized a final stand.
However, a group of riders acting as ssengers arrived, bearing an offer of negotiation from their leader. Robert welcod the opportunity for dialogue, and a truce was swiftly declared. The hostilities halted on both sides.
As both armies tended to their wounded and collected their fallen, a large ivory tent was erected between them, a symbol of forthcoming discussions.
As the victor’s cavalry patrolled the vicinity and stood guard at the site, the Lion of Lowlandia made his appearance, exuding an air of calm dignity. A small retinue of knights accompanied him as a protective entourage.
Despite the sweltering heat and his evident fatigue, Robert remained clad in his armor, resolute in leveraging every potential advantage in the forthcoming negotiations.
His adversaries welcod him readily, though ironically the ivory tent was his own, one of many things he would lose in the aftermath of this conflict. Yet even in the face of defeat, Robert maintained a straight-backed posture, wearing an expression that suggested he was relishing every mont.
However, Robert mostly maintained his silence, allowing a trusted aide to handle the negotiations. To his surprise, his counterpart mirrored his approach.
There was no gloating in the adversary’s leader’s face. The man nad Lansius sat quietly in his seat, observing the proceedings without interjecting. Both leaders exchanged several glances but refrained from direct conversation.
The first topic of discussion was the status of the hostages. A knight was dispatched to verify their condition and reported back that they were safe, kept in separate pits throughout the trenches as a precaution. The knight also confird that Marshal Michael had survived, though likely at the cost of an eye.
Robert drew a deep breath and nodded to his knight, his silence conveying his relief.
The second issue raised was the fate of Robert’s baggage train. Given their distance from the nearest settlent, supplies would be precarious. Fortunately, while the victors insisted on confiscating all wealth, they were reasonable enough to leave almost half of Robert’s food supplies intact.
This was more than sufficient for their march back ho, and Robert was appeased. With the two main subjects addressed, Robert turned his attention to the opposing leader. To Robert, this Lansius was an intriguing figure. Not because of his black hair that marked him as a foreigner, but due to his lack of the pride or entitlent typically flaunted by the nobility.
The discussion soon hit a deadlock when the subject of land rights was broached.
“I beg your pardon, but your side lacks a valid casus belli against my lord’s domain. While we acknowledge your military superiority, you cannot lay claim to White Lake without risking intervention from the Imperium,” Robert’s representative argued with conviction.
Sir Justin scoffed at this. “Stop this nonsense. It’s common knowledge that the lords of Lowlandia have been competing and seizing lands not rightfully theirs for generations. The Imperium has never intervened.”
“We are not brutes! My lord only engages in battle when his rightful claims are threatened,” retorted Robert’s representative.
“Says the one who didn’t send an envoy this morning and launched an assault without even a parley,” Sir Justin shot back.
Robert’s side reeled from the statent, but chose to ignore it. “In the last conflict, Viscount Jorge pledged Korelia as paynt for a joint attack on the Southern Alliance. When Lord Jorge reneged on his promise, my lord was justified in reclaiming what was rightfully his.”
The crux of the matter was that Lansius held no legitimate claim to Robert’s domain. In reality, Robert would capitulate due to his defeat, but Lansius couldn’t legally retain Robert’s domain without the appropriate justification.
If Lansius forced his way, it would be seen as taking White Lake hostage, a move that would invite all the lords of Lowlandia to attack.
Robert was curious to see how this young man would navigate this ssy issue of casus belli.
Reviews
All reviews (0)