Chapter 54

Blue and Bronze

 

With the battle situation unfolding before him, Lansius finally knew what he had to do. He pointed at the nearest column on the drawn map on the ground. “Sir Callahan, let’s hit this column.”

“The South Hill column? My Lord, may we learn the reason?” Callahan inquired. Even though the Lord had a victory against Lord Robert last year, his inexperience remained a concern among the knights.

The Marshal, Sir Justin, had assisted the Lord in creating the plans and their variations, but there were still lingering doubts. Therefore, Callahan had made it his mission to guard against any potential problem.

“We don’t need to inflict a crippling blow, just enough to cause a rupture in their seams,” Lansius explained.

“But even if we successfully charge this weak column, the Black Knights will arrive quickly,” warned Callahan, noting that despite the surprise factor, they were just eighty cavalry against two-thousand. Such a disparity meant it was unlikely for them to damage, break, or rout the column.

“If we do enough damage. When the time comes, they’ll break on their own,” Lansius assured him.

Callahan looked at Lansius for a second or two before nodding in response. He wasn’t wholly buying what Lansius had said, but it was good enough of a reason. Back in his youth, he had charged a column for worse reasons.

The blond knight glanced at the other knights, who nodded and voiced no complaints. Their trust was mostly because Lansius was joining them in person.

More than thirty knights and dozens of horsemen were formerly Robert’s vassals. Against such a large opponent, Lansius knew there was always a risk that they could become disheartened and stray from command. Thus, he felt compelled to lead them personally.

Without any objections from his cavalry, Lansius turned his attention to his trusted friend. "Calub," he called. The alchemist, who had been waiting patiently in a corner, perked up.

“Yes, My Lord." Calub stepped forward. As a high-ranking but non-noble among the knights, Calub wisely downplayed his importance for Lansius’ sake.

“Take command of the hundred men as planned. Spread them between the glade and the opening near the entrance. If things go as planned, we might bring a large prey, and you’ll be the snare. If not, then be our shield.”

“Understood, My Lord,” Calub responded with confidence.

Lansius had the utmost faith in him. “Sir Callahan,” he called the man whose eyes were now brimming with determination. Even close to fifty, the blond knight was still captivating. “Let’s ride.”

Callahan rallied the cavalry. “The Lord is riding with us!” he exclaimed and set things into motion. One man wiped the map from the ground while the rest readily mounted their horses.

Sterling had Lansius’ horse ready. He helped him mount and handed him the gauntlets. Initially, Lansius hadn’t asked him to join, but Sterling insisted on coming.

“Sterling, last chance. Forget about courage, honor, or manliness. This is war, you could be crippled for life,” Lansius warned from atop his destrier.

The squire’s face was adamant. “My Lord, I shall not be a burden.”

Lansius drew a deep breath and just rode after Sir Callahan.

Behind him, Sterling in half-armor dutifully carried Lansius’ lance. Carrying a lance was burdensome and an unnecessary hazard within the forest, so they wouldn’t let Lansius have it until they reached the open field.

Only the knights were in plate armor, the rest were in half-armor, brigandines, or ringmails. The horses were also protected by barding or horse armor.

The head part and some of the horses’ bodies were covered by metal plates or hardened leather. There was no uniformity, each acquired and equipped their horses on their own. It was like a circus, in a way.

They reached the forest outskirts and quickly formed a formation.

“My Lord, with your permission, Sir Harold and I will ride in front,” Callahan requested.

Lansius looked at the tall man who saluted with an open visor. His polished plate armor was impeccable. Sir Harold and his small band of brothers were the unofficial Midlandian reinforcements. They were small, but they were highly enthusiastic warriors and war aficionados who volunteered for the sheer thrill of combat.

Lansius let out a grin. The Midlandian knight wasn’t bigger than Anci, but the aura he projected was similar. “It would be an honor to ride with you, Sir Harold.”

“The pleasure is mutual, My Lord,” the tall knight replied with a wide but honest smile.

Without time to lose, as his cavalry was ready, Lansius gazed at Sir Callahan. Now, in direct sunlight, the intricacies of Callahan’s armor were easily seen. Black decorative gilding and ornaments made it look like ceremonial armor. However, the buffed-out scrapes and dents revealed its sturdiness. It felt ancient, not in an obsolete kind of way, but like a legendary item.

“Sir Callahan, lead the way,” Lansius declared as he latched his helmet and gazed upon the plains that would become their battlefield.

 

***

 

Coalition Side

Beneath the shade of an umbrella, Viscount Jorge witnessed the battle unfold in front of him. His heart beat faster as the Coalition column slammed into the Korelian line. “Morton, you see that? You see that?” Jorge jumped from his folded chair as he remarked excitedly.

The Lord was so proud of Arius, his most trusted cousin who personally led the attack. Meanwhile, Sir Morton, the Black Knights’ captain, merely nodded his head. He wasn’t the type to talk much.

Somehow, this seemingly mismatched master and retainer actually had good chemistry. Both men deeply respected their differences. This was quite uncommon. In the Imperium, a servant who wouldn’t lick the master’s boots was usually discarded early.

But then again, Jorge was hardly normal. So abnormal that his peers mocked him as the ‘big fool of One Hill’ behind his back. Originally, Jorge’s Viscountcies held four regions: Korimor, South Hill, Korelia, and the capital in the center.

Each castle was built on a hill, thus the capital was aptly named Three Hills. Under Jorge’s nascent rule, a branch family and another old follower had seceded.

In response, Jorge launched wars multiple times without a victory. When he won, he installed an untrustworthy individual who eventually rebelled. In the end, he gained nothing and lost even more.

The young Lord was not entirely to blame. His only fault was being naïve and idealistic. Jorge idolized the school of meritocracy. An ideal governing system where people were promoted based on their ability, not by blood relation.

However, not even the best of the Imperium lords were able to implement such a radical system. Family ties and nepotism ran deep and were central to feudalism.

Traditionally, a House placed family members in powerful positions to secure their control. When a lord promoted non-family members into high positions, envy, and political intrigue often followed. This led to distrust and contempt among his House members. Ultimately, it usually ended in a purge, assassination, or open conflict.

That very problem still haunted Jorge, whose only hope now lay with Arius. The younger cousin was respected by various factions and might be the solution to the instability. Jorge didn’t mind sharing some of his power with Arius if that would resolve the crisis.

Contrary to the myths circulating about him, Jorge wasn’t overly ambitious; he merely sought to keep the legacy of his forefather intact. All he truly desired for himself was Korelia, his birthplace.

“We’ve beaten them! They’re pushed back,” Jorge clamored excitedly as he watched Arius’ column gaining ground.

The staff cheerfully congratulated Jorge. Only Morton kept silent.

Far to their right, in another cavalry column, the Nicopolan cavalry captain was also silent. Daniella had learned that the Lord of Korelia had a keen eye for battle. However, today’s battle today was too brash even for an overconfident nobleman.

“Something bothering you, my lady?” one of her mercenary lieutenants asked.

“It’s too quiet and too stupid,” Daniella replied, and then she felt the urge to act. “Tell the scout to move further. Leave no blind spot.”

“Will do.” The rider quickly relayed the order.

Her rider barely left when cheering erupted from Jorge’s position. Daniella felt the cheering was so contrasted with what happened on the battlefield. As she could clearly see, there was no glory in the mangled and beaten bodies that littered the field.

Many of the wounded, drenched in their blood, limped and even crawled for help.

However, as a part of the nobility, she understood that for the ruling class, this brutal sight was no different from a sporting event.

Tara- taraaa!!

A different trumpet signal from the South Hill column posted on the north side caught everybody off guard. Everybody who heard it looked northward with confused expressions.

Daniella was quick to action and rode north with a few riders to get a better look. Meanwhile, Jorge stood and squinted his eyes."What’s going on? It’s one of ours, right?"

One of his staff promptly sent a scout to ascertain the situation, but it would take time, and Jorge was impatient.

“It’s likely a cavalry attack. My lord, please let me have a hundred,” Morton calmly requested. By now, they could see an unknown cavalry heading toward the northern column.

“No, we’ll move as one,” Jorge declared, clenching his fist.

Jorge's declaration drew the attention of his entire command staff.

“My lord, do you wish to attack?” Morton asked on behalf of the staff.

“Certainly, now that we know what Lansius’ intention really is, let’s not hesitate. The chance has presented itself. Let’s move out,” the young Lord commanded.

The staff readily relayed the order, and everyone mounted their horses. The squires strapped Jorge’s cuirass back on and helped him mount his horse. Spurred by the lord’s urgency, a hundred knights rode north at full gallop.

Daniella hastily rallied her Nicopolan cavalry and gave the command to follow. She still found it suspicious, but the Lord of Korelia had shown his hand, and now she could play hers.

 

***

 

 

Korelian’s Knights

Lansius clenched his right arm against his side, feeling the weight of the lance under his armpit. Even when kept at an angle, it remained heavy. The breastplate's lance rest helped reduce the burden on his right arm and hand, and stabilize the shaft while the horse trotted.

After almost two years of training, Lansius was still very much struggling not to kill himself by dropping and plunging the lance into the ground. His arm and muscles felt on fire as he wrestled against the rocking motion. Minuscule adjustments were made to keep the lance at an angle, far off the ground.

Meanwhile, his destrier continued to run like a charging buffalo. The rocking motion was anything but gentle. Weighted by the armor, on every up and down, the saddle’s hard leather punished Lansius’ loins and battered his breath.

He wanted to say he was used to this, that he was trained for this, but he couldn’t. This wasn’t something someone could get used to in a mere year and a half.

Suddenly, the horse leaped.

Oof!

They landed gracefully. It wasn’t a big jump, but the saddle smacked his butt and gut from beneath. In a trained reflex, Lansius exerted all his might to control the lance as it wobbled.

He realized that to survive this would be one of the crowning achievements of his life. Yet, he held no regrets. This was a necessity — he simply couldn't afford to sit this one out.

Understanding Lansius' inexperience, Sir Callahan and Harold, who rode in front, made small adjustments here and there to ease their Lord’s burden. Instead of having Lansius follow them, they centered the whole formation around him.

The rest of the eighty cavalry spread evenly on his left and right. Sterling and the experienced standard bearer rode beside Lansius. The banner depicted a blue shield with a single bronze chevron.

The banner was new. It was Lansius’ own. Felis had designed and sewn the coat of arms just a few days ago. She boasted it would bring good luck, and now Lansius prayed fervently that it would.

Sir Callahan and Harold picked up more speed. Lansius kept up with them and soon realized they were at full gallop. The wind screamed through every open vent in his visor. His sight was a blur.

“Close ranks!” Sir Callahan shouted from the front.

“Close ranks!” the standard bearer beside Lansius relayed the order.

They rushed the last stretch of land between them and the opponent’s formation, forming an arrow-like formation. The standard bearer moved in front of Lansius, while Sterling remained at his side.

Sir Callahan had told them that he was expecting crossbow attacks, but only a few materialized. At this range, Lansius saw that the Coalition line now looked jagged and uneven. More importantly, there was no wall of spears or pikes.

This column was supposedly two-thousand strong, but what Lansius saw was just a group of men, scarred and frightened.

By the Holy, I’m going to trample them...

His conscience screamed, but his trained instinct kept him going.

This is my plan, and I’m responsible for this. Go haunt me if you must, but judge me fairly against your lords who led you here in the first place!

He steadied his mind as the distance closed in at a frightening speed.

Sir Callahan in front lowered his lance and the rest followed. Lansius felt the numbness in his arms as he lowered his lance into position.

By now, the opposing men was in full view. Lansius saw their faces and reactions as Callahan and Harold, along with the front riders, dove into their ranks.

The screams and the horses’ beastly noises immediately filled his ears. There was no time to observe, gripping his lance tightly, Lansius made his charge.

 

***