Chapter 68

Two Paths

 

Eastern Mansion

One hundred troops, bolstered by the militia, were mobilized under Sir Justin’s command. Sir Harold to lead the column and greet the approaching relief force from White Lake. It was an unusual sight, as the siege had already been lifted, and Korelia had been freed.

Still, the townsfolk made merriment of it and greeted the forty knights like heroes for coming to their aid.

While the forty knights from White Lake entered Korelia, two hundred men, along with their supply carts and camp followers, headed north of Korelia and set up camp near the river.

Inside the Eastern Mansion, with confirmation that the incoming army was indeed reinforcement, Lansius breathed a sigh of relief and adjusted the arm sling for his wrist.

The anticipation for the news gave Hugo time to think, yet he couldn’t unravel how he was supposed to besiege Korimor with limited men and supplies. “My Lord,” Hugo began his case.

“Korimor isn’t like Korelia. Maybe Korelia could be intimidated with just three hundred, but Korimor, even with just a paltry amount of defense, could comfortably fend off a larger number of invaders for months.”

Lansius was content watching him speak, so Hugo continued, “We need more men, siege ladders, siege engines, and plentiful supplies if we plan to starve them out.”

“Too bad they’re burnt,” Lansius commented about the siege engine, regretting the loss of good quality wood and timber that he could reuse. “But we don’t need siege engines. They’re slow and heavy.”

Hugo was piqued. “Slow, My Lord?”

“Yes, we probably would lose the element of surprise if we marched with those siege engines. Even in parts, they are heavy.”

Something didn’t sound right, so Hugo argued, “But, even using the direct northern corridor, the men would still need to spend at least twenty days marching.”

“That’s too slow. I think we can do it in ten days.”

“Ten days?” the deputy blurted out. “That means, a cavalry-only force?”

“Cavalry transport,” Lansius corrected him.

Hugo rubbed his chin after hearing his Lord’s suggestion. While it was possible, it presented a dilemma on its own. “Does My Lord think that the nomads would assist?”

Instead of answering, Lord Lansius gestured for his pageboy to approach. Margo hurriedly presented himself in front of his master, who commanded, “Call the tribesman.”

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The tribesman came to the upper floor of the mansion. It wasn’t as spacious as the hall below, but it was well-made and luxurious to his eyes. He saw the Lord of Korelia standing beside a table with a grand map on top of it.

Approaching with eyes on the ground, he bowed deeply and said, “My Noyan, how may I serve?”

Hugo was intrigued by the calling but didn’t ask, as they were in front of a guest.

“Tribesman, I need to transport men to Korimor using the northern corridor. Is it possible?” asked Lansius without mincing words.

The tribesman, fully aware of this race that Lansius had proposed earlier, replied, “If they can ride, we can provide the horses. If they can’t ride, we can borrow some of the tribes’ wagons they used for yurts.”

Lansius nodded happily, and the tribesman inquired, “How many men does My Noyan wish to move?”

“Two hundred,” he revealed.

The tribesman paused for a moment before commenting, “It would be quite a task.”

“Is it possible?” There was a slight concern in Lansius’ voice.

“Certainly. It can be arranged,” the nomad answered confidently.

Hugo was surprised by the nomad’s approval and asked, “With the hunt for remnants still ongoing, how could you provide more horsemen for this?”

The tribesman, still in his armor despite being indoors, grinned as he looked Hugo in the eye. “Not only our men but our women and children are also expert riders.”

And then he returned his gaze to Lord Lansius. “My Noyan, if you wish for this to happen quickly, then let me return before sundown.”

“One more thing,” said Lord Lansius. The tribesman bowed his head slightly, awaiting command.

The Lord took a deep breath and said, “I need to talk about the Tribes’ future.”

The tribesman didn’t question and simply nodded deeply.

“How many wives does a tribesman usually have?” the Lord asked.

“The prominent member usually has two or three.”

“And how many children does your father have from his wives?”

“Five from my mother and three from my other mother,” the tribesman replied without hesitation.

Lansius nodded, while Hugo was puzzled by where this discussion was going.

“Listen well, if the number of nomadic tribes right now is over one-thousand people, then in less than thirty years, you will probably reach ten times that number.”

The nomad was pleased and declared, “Then you shall be the Noyan of twenty thousand souls.”

Lansius laughed. He didn’t expect such an answer. Only after he took a deep breath did he find his composure. Rubbing his bandaged left wrist on his arm sling, he spoke, “What I’m trying to say is, you’ll find a hard time finding pasture to graze.”

This time, the tribesman was stunned with concern, his eyes widening momentarily.

“I heard some of your tribes ventured into Korimor’s exterior because of the lack of grass west of Korelia. Is that true?”

“Indeed, such is true, My Noyan.”

“It’ll be ten times harder in twenty years,” warned Lansius.

“... It cannot be helped, My Noyan. Every family needs their goats and horses, and they need good grass to grow and produce milk.”

“I understand. However, the number of folks will be so much that the grass around Korelia and Korimor alone won’t be enough. Meaning you’ll be moving closer to South Hill or Three Hills, which may cause problems. Worse, the tribes may even fight amongst themselves for water and grazing area.”

The tribesman furrowed his brows before gaining inspiration and asked, “My Noyan, you are telling me this now. Does it mean you have an answer?”

The Lord mulled momentarily, before replying, “I might have.”

Bowing deeply, the tribesman asked, “Pray that you tell us, O Great One.”

Lansius took a sharp breath. “Look at Korelia. The town is six thousand souls. Our people have a lot of shepherds and flocks, but we didn’t need to graze too far from town.”

Furrowing his brows, the tribesman jumped to a conclusion. “Do you wish for us to learn to live in a city?”

“No, it would be taking you out of your roots. That wouldn’t end well,” Lord Lansius said with such clarity as if he had seen it happen before. “What I want is for the nomadic community to make small market posts.”

“Market posts?” The tribesman was piqued.

“Indeed, between here and Midlandia, also here and Three Hills. It should be built within half a day’s journey by cart.”

Hugo started to understand what this was all about.

“I want to build a safe route between Korelia and other cities. With a place to rest, men to provide protection, also food, clean water, and spare horses.”

“So, My Noyan wished for the tribes to guard these market posts,” he started to pick up the idea.

“Since this is my idea, I’ll extend my protection to the family responsible for these market posts,” Lord Lansius smiled. “The area surrounding the post should belong to the family for grazing. I’ll also erect a small tower and assign men as lookouts and patrols.”

The tribesman began to really like this idea, and his genuine smile returned.

“There’s also another thing. Since merchants will come regularly, you can sell them many things, from cheese, meat, leather products, mare’s wine, and even good horses. You should make a decent profit just by keeping the merchants happy and well-protected.”

“It seems that My Noyan has thought this all through. I shall bring this matter to leader Batu and the elders,” he declared passionately.

Lansius took a step closer and tapped the tribesman’s shoulder firmly. “Please, convey my well wishes to them. Also, my gratitude for the horses and riders for two hundred men.”

The tribesman bowed deeply and left with a face even brighter than when he came. He had such worthy news for his elders. Lord Lansius was their Noyan for less than a year, but already thinking far ahead into the future.

In the tribesman’s eyes, Lansius was a leader unlike any other, someone to whom the Nomads could fully pledge their fate.

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Korelia

Audrey sat at the finest table inside the best inn in Korelia, sipping spiced wine to quench her thirst. She had been riding from the Eastern Mansion under the hot summer sun.

In front of her sat Lady Daniella, clad in her blue intricate surcoat that completely hid her Centuria steel cuirass. With the camp burnt and her horse lost in the woods, she had no spare clothes to wear.

In contrast, Audrey was not wearing armor but a black gothic dress. Behind her stood Carla, fully armed and ready.

Outside, the city celebrated the arrival of forty knights from White Lake. The merriment could be heard from inside the inn which remained empty, as only one day had elapsed since the siege, and visitors from outside Korelia had yet to arrive.

Audrey put her silver goblet down, took a deep breath, and began, “So why the change of heart?”

Daniella bowed her head a little. “My Lady,” she addressed her host, as Carla had already informed her of Audrey’s status as the future consort of the Lord of Korelia. “We are merely a free company in search of work. Unfortunately, we stood on opposing sides, but the battle has ended.”

“Lord Lansius only made a pact with Lord Jorge,” Audrey reminded her guest. “We have yet to capture Lord Omin. I believe you Nicopolans are paid by him.”

“That is correct. However, we were contracted only to wage war on Korelia, and we have fulfilled our role.”

Audrey snorted, as a squire she had a different view of loyalty. “So you won’t even try to rescue your employer?”

“Regretfully, my employer has fled and left us with nothing. We’re now forced to fend for ourselves.”

Audrey looked to the side, aware that her gaze might cause discomfort. “I think all of this is pointless,” she said. “I doubt Lord Lansius would want allies who would abandon him as soon as he lost a battle.”

Daniella smiled. “I think this time it will be different.”

“Why?” asked Audrey.

“Unlike Lord Jorge or Lord Omin, the Lord of Korelia is more promising. No Nicopolans would abandon such a good Lord after just one or two setbacks.”

Audrey smiled, knowing it to be true. Loyal or not, the mercenaries weren’t foolish enough to squander a capable warlord. However, it was hard for her to trust Lady Daniella.

Like most people, Audrey was suspicious of the Nicopolans, especially one who looked too smart and too capable for her own good. “We shall ride together sometimes,” she finished up her conversation.

Daniella smiled and nodded politely. “It would be an honor, My Lady.”

Audrey almost rose but paused halfway, meeting the Nicopolan’s gaze. Her instinct flared up, so she sat down again.

Carla looked at her questioningly, while Daniella remained unmoved.

“The Lord wishes for me to ask you this: How many men defended Korimor castle? How are their defenses and garrison? Also, tell us about their leader.”

Daniella's eyes widened. She couldn't believe the implications of the question. Despite their miraculous victory, Korelia's forces were small and had suffered high numbers of wounded and dead. Thus, she hadn't expected swift reprisal. Yet, clearly, Lord Lansius had entertained the idea, making Daniella realize just how completely and swiftly the Korelians had turned the tables on the Western Lords.

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Lansius

Inside his private chamber, the victor of this war, Lansius, sat comfortably on the bed. As he had expected, his retainers barred him from going outside. After Hugo and the tribesman had left the mansion, the servants brought Lansius a serving of warm broth with a duck egg and gruel.

It was okay, but he didn’t like the taste of the jumbo egg yolk. Nevertheless, his staff insisted it was good for bruises and bone healing.

With marriage planned for next week, Lansius wanted to be in good shape, so he consumed the broth despite the bad aftertaste. He found himself wishing he could have simply fried the egg or salted it.

With Audrey gone to meet with Daniella, the upper floor of the mansion was quiet. So quiet that Lansius could hear the ringing in his ears, a byproduct of training and taking too many hits on the helmet.

A small price to pay for victory...

All the tension from yesterday’s battle had been eroded, although as he had experienced before, the horrors of war would linger for many months to come. He had seen flashes of men getting trampled beneath his destrier, but he was neither disturbed nor afraid.

He was simply mesmerized by how vivid the recollection was. Lansius shook his head; he didn’t want to ponder about it. Afterward, he drew a deep breath.

If only they knew that leaving people with nothing to do can actually hurt more than it helps.

He wished he had something to work as a distraction, otherwise, his brain would play those charging and trampling memories on repeat.

He drew another sigh, realizing he had yet to visit Sterling. Lansius missed the squire’s company. The young squire possessed a good intellect and critical thinking that made him a valuable discussion partner.

Lansius considered calling Cecile, but he knew she had too much on her plate right now. Left with nothing else to do, he turned his attention to the parchments on the desk and rose from the bedside.

He approached the desk, pulled out the small wooden chair, and tried to get comfortable. With just one hand, he slowly put away the stacks of parchment to the side. He wanted a fresh parchment for this one.

There was a plan he had yet to put on paper. His favorite quotes came to mind:

Knowledge isn’t power; it’s merely potential. Power comes from applying that knowledge. Wisdom comes from learning when and why to apply that knowledge.

Lansius had been pondering for a long time about Lowlandia, ever since he realized he was going to be independent in this land.

The Great Lowlandia, with all its politics, blood feuds, and problems, was a province in a state of war. With the Imperium failing and chaos at the door, Lansius realized that a drastic measure was needed to rein in the province. A half-hearted attempt would backfire and lead to a bigger tragedy.

He saw only two options. The first historically occurred on the steppe plains near the Onon River, leading to the birth of the largest Empire humankind had ever seen. Its method was effective yet inhumane.

History tells the story of Temujin of the Onon River, who, during his wars, ordered all men taller than the wheels of an ox-cart to be killed. He spared only the women and young boys who wouldn’t remember their fathers or uncles. In this way, Temujin – who would be remembered as Genghis Khan – ended the tribal blood feuds and paved the way for the unification of Mongolia.

Lansius wanted no part in such a method. So, he was left with another, less direct but equally drastic solution.

Thus, he sharpened his quill pen carefully, prepared his ink, and wrote several words:

征 sei

夷 i

大 dai

将 shō

軍 gun

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