Chapter 70

The Empire of the Steppes

 

Lansius

The Lord of Korelia yawned and stretched out. He had just dictated a letter to Batu, officially informing him about the Market Post route and urging the nomadic tribes to produce more yurts. He also conveyed his wish to purchase or borrow more yurts to house the one-thousand captured men intended to work in the stone quarry.

The yurts alone wouldn’t be enough, but they would be a welcomed addition. Right now, all Korelia had was the shaft in the quarries that could be used as makeshift tunnel housing.

According to the staff, the shaft could house at least a hundred. For the unlucky rest, they probably had to resort to building mud houses or rammed earth hovels. It would suffice for summer and fall, but just like their tents counterpart, it would be inadequate for winter.

Without a good source of timber, Lansius felt stuck. He hadn’t expected that housing a thousand would be so problematic.

Should I just tell them to sleep in the trenches and put some cover over their heads...?

He pondered the problem but ultimately gave up on it for the moment. With two months left of summer, he felt he could return to solve this another time.

At least I have something as a last resort.

Outside, the sun was beginning to shine, coloring the dusk skies in glorious red against the dark of night.

“Umm, My Lord,” Dietrich asked from the desk, he just finished the letter. “I’m not a scribe so my writing isn’t good.”

“Not too bad, better than Hugo but less than Calub,” replied Lansius lightly as he read the finished letter. “This will do.”

“You’ll send it for real?” Dietrich sounded nervous.

“Yes, you’ll send it personally to Batu, and read it yourself, so it should be fine. Also, bring the two biggest duck eggs we have as gifts.”

Dietrich nodded, memorizing the command.

“That is all; you can leave now. The sun is rising soon.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Dietrich began to put the writing tools on the shelf.

“Bring fresh wildflowers when you return,” Lansius quipped.

The stalwart but comical man let out a chuckle, gave a polite bow, and left the chamber.

Now, Lansius was alone, readying his mind for the upcoming day.

To think, I‘ll negotiate the fate of Lowlandia after a mass funeral service...

The art of negotiation required him to be in prime psychological condition. While he could postpone, time was running out. This was the second day, and he needed to strike while the iron was hot.

Lansius knew he needed to shape this new balance of power, or else it would be filled with mistrust and prejudice. If such were to happen, then the tragedy of Lowlandia, a province in a perpetual warring state, would never end.

Thus, Lansius sat down, cross-legged, on the carpeted floor, and did something he had never done before. He sat still, emptied his mind, and meditated.

...

 

Time passed, yet the turmoil in his mind remained. He wasn't good at this, but now his thoughts were sharp. He could sense the points he needed to make and the arguments he should advance.

The door to his chamber opened, and Audrey walked in. She watched him on the floor and, instead of questioning, gave a sweet smile. “Morning, My Lord.”

Lansius jumped up to greet her.

Audrey extended her right hand toward Lansius. “Shall we have breakfast before the sun rises higher?”

This time, the somberness of her voice was evident. It was officially the start of the mourning day.

Lansius took her hand, and they walked together. After a light breakfast, it was time to pay their respects to the fallen in their last hour under the sun.

 

***

 

Audrey

Today was mourning day, the day they buried the dead and wept over them. After sunrise, they laid the brave militia and troops to rest. When the sun rose higher, they laid the men-at-arms and the knights to rest.

As people increased in status, they received better treatment, even in death. A wooden coffin was used, and a mound was raised.

Audrey watched when Calub broke the news of Sir Callahan’s demise. Lansius, as expected, was distraught. He hadn’t known Callahan had perished in battle. Everyone, even Audrey, had kept it from him.

The late Callahan was Lansius’ mentor and trusted diplomat, and also the father of the cup-bearer. Thus the loss was personal and tremendous.

Overcoming his grief, Lansius led the solemn procession and watched as his mentor’s coffin was lowered to its final resting place.

“The last hour under the sun,” the phrase was muttered by thousands who attended the mass funeral.

Beside Lansius, Cecile, covered in a grey cloak, tried to hold back her tears to no avail; she wept and cried her heart out. Surprisingly, Calub was there to comfort her.

Felicity was also present, wrapping her arms around Claire, Sir Callahan’s little daughter. She too wept with reddened eyes.

The Marshal, Sir Justin, sat at the back. Despite his injured hip, he directed the whole proceedings with the assistance of Sir Harold, Hugo, and the other squires.

The Lord of Korelia observed the burial solemnly until a freshly made mound was raised. He then knelt in front of Sir Callahan’s mound.

The gravestone was yet to be engraved, so a simple wooden stake was placed. Lansius took summer wildflowers and a jug of good wine from Margo’s wicker basket, sipped it, and poured the rest into the earth. Those around him followed his example.

Audrey took the wooden cup, sipped the wine, found it good, and poured it into the rows of mounds.

Resting beside Sir Callahan were two other knights, one cavalryman, one squire, over thirty men-at-arms, and seventy militia. Despite Lansius’ miraculous victory, these men had paid the ultimate price.

Aside from this burial, there exists another mass burial, dug and prepared by captured non-nobles from the Coalition. Lansius had told her that he wished to visit, but Audrey persuaded him not to.

She didn’t wish for him to shoulder the guilt. His retinues would shoulder it for him.

As the last drink to honor the passing was over, there was no prayer but only a mention of hope for the deceased to meet the Ancients and accompany them on their great hunt.

Looking at how Lansius carried himself, Audrey was no longer worried. The Lord looked calm and only slightly saddened. It seemed that his battles had seasoned him; he was no longer the clueless clerk from Bellandia.

The sun was getting hotter, and as soon as the ceremony was over, at Sir Justin’s behest, Audrey and Sir Harold spirited Lansius back to town. Despite Lansius’ surprisingly stable condition, they didn’t want to risk him becoming lost in remorse.

The reason his top retainers were so protective was a general feeling that the Lord had brought them a great victory, and he deserved peace of mind, not guilt.

 

***

 

The Lord of Korelia

Lansius still couldn't fully process the death of his tutor. He mind registered the loss, but his heart had yet to feel the pain. He didn't even feel angry at his people for hiding Sir Callahan's death from him, and this realization bothered him.

Have I become cold and heartless?

He questioned whether he had grown so accustomed to death that even someone as important as Sir Callahan meant little to him. Yet he found no answer as there was so little time to process.

Lansius and his entourage rode back to Korelia. Just outside the town entrance, they were greeted by Roger. Behind the squire stood two knights in plain clothes, while another squire tended to their horses.

The Lord reined in his palfrey horse, bringing it to a gentle stop, and the rest of his entourage followed.

Roger bowed his head, a generous smile on his face, and heralded, “My Lord, the reinforcements from White Lake: Sir Michael and his lieutenant.”

Lansius studied the one-eyed Michael, a man he had never met despite having fought against him in last year's trenches. It was the same battle where Roger had nearly lost his life, saved only by Lansius' insistence on dragging him through the red, muddy trenches.

Meanwhile, Michael was prepared to hear scorn or censure. He had come late to Lord Lansius' defense. Thus, he bowed his head slightly, maintaining a straight but non-threatening posture as he waited for what would come next.

“Sir Michael,” Lansius greeted him kindly and said, “Ride with me.”

Sir Michael and his lieutenant complied, mounted their horses, and followed the Lord northwest.

The Lord of Korelia brought his guests, along with Audrey, Sir Harold, and Hugo, to an abandoned village near the forest. There, he found a scenic spot and ordered a field command tent to be erected and food to be brought from the castle.

When everything was ready, Lansius sent Hugo to invite Lord Jorge to a meeting.

The Lord of Three Hills arrived with Sir Arius and Sir Morton, wearing brigandines instead of their plate armor. Due to the mage knight’s presence, Sir Harold, Audrey, and Hugo stayed close to Lansius.

Despite some underlying tension, Lansius welcomed the two parties under the ivory tent, furnished with scissor-folding wooden chairs and tables. The table he prepared was U-shaped. Lansius sat at the center like a mediator while Lord Jorge, Sir Arius, and Sir Morton were seated on the right, and Sir Michael and his lieutenant were seated on the left.

Before anything serious was discussed, Lansius had arranged for hearty meals from Korelia castle to be brought forward. Plates of food and seasonal fruits were soon distributed, and lunch commenced.

Just like Lansius, Lord Jorge had also attended a mass funeral service that morning, so emotions were running high. But the meals seemed to keep everyone at ease.

They closed the meal by sharing a few jugs of ale between them. It wasn’t merry, but the atmosphere between ex-enemies and rivals was amicable and relaxed.

...

 

The lunch was over, and Sir Morton, wishing to prevent any issues between the three parties, addressed the host: “Lord Lansius, on behalf of my Lord, please accept my gratitude for your hospitality. If there’s nothing else, we don’t want to overstay our welcome.”

However, Lansius raised his hand to stop him. “Please, sit a while longer. Since the West and East have met here, I believe we could solve a problem or two.”

Lord Jorge felt there was nothing wrong with this, so he entertained the request and gave a nod of approval to his mage knight, who then relaxed his back and prepared to listen. Similarly, Sir Arius followed his cousin’s instruction without a fuss.

Meanwhile, across the table, Sir Michael’s eye narrowed, caught by surprise by the mention of East and West. He tried to guess what the Lord of Korelia was planning.

“I apologize for my brashness,” Lansius stated. “But I believe I might know how to solve Lowlandia’s problems.”

As he expected, the statement drew the attention of both parties and his own retinue.

He continued, “It’s not hard. The question is, do we have the will to do it?”

His words piqued everyone’s interest.

Feeling it to be cryptic, Sir Morton asked, “My Lord, just what do you mean by that?”

The Lord of Korelia gazed at the mage knight. “I mean, I know how to stop the war in Lowlandia.”

The tent fell into a stunned silence at the blunt answer. Only Lansius and Audrey kept their composure.

“Apology, Lord Lansius, but please enlighten me,” asked Jorge. “Do you have a way to bring peace to these war-blighted lands without killing half the barons, dividing their lands, and forcing their daughters to marry?”

“I do, in fact, have not one but two ways to bring peace to Lowlandia,” Lansius revealed.

“Then by all means, My Lord, please let us know,” for the first time, the one-eyed knight, Sir Michael, found his words.

Lansius gazed at the one-eyed knight and explained, “As I said before, it’s not hard... To solve the problem in Lowlandia, we simply need to house all the Lords in one place.”

A murmur of disbelief rippled through the room, but Lansius raised his voice and pushed through, saying, “I will build noble rows, a grand bazaar, gardens, guild halls, and a city granary, large enough to ward off years of bad harvest.”

His plan dispelled some of the gravest doubts, signaling that these were more than mere empty words. The fact that Lansius had thought this through was enough to warrant serious consideration.

Lord Jorge shifted in his seat and asked, “Do you propose that simply by putting the barons together, we will reach this lofty goal?”

“The noble rows in my plan aren’t just villas,” remarked Lansius. He knew that the high nobles had areas designated as noble rows in the Capital, where they could build their villas to stay while visiting.

Lord Jorge furrowed his brows. “Then what is it?”

“Permanent homes,” Lansius revealed to a chorus of murmurs and head shaking.

Nevertheless, he continued, “I want all the barons’ families to live in Korelia, and only the eldest son, younger brother, or cousin is to continue governing the land.”

“Pardon me, My Lord,” a question rose from the left side. “You said about only allowing the eldest son, brother, or cousin to govern the lands? What about the Barons themselves?” asked the one-eyed knight.

Lansius decided not to hide anything. “The Barons may return every two years to handle internal affairs. They should arrive in the Spring and leave before Winter. However, their families must remain in Korelia."

Michael knitted his brows. “Why is such an arrangement needed for the family?”

“If their family remains in Korelia together with the other Barons’ families, then everybody can be sure that nobody is planning anything seditious behind our backs.”

Michael was caught off guard by the frank answer, as were the others.

“The whole problem in Lowlandia is that nobody can trust their neighbors,” explained Lansius. “Distrust breeds suspicion, just as jealousy breeds hatred. The race to arm ourselves will eventually lead to endless strife.”

There was an uncomfortable air emanating from the two parties.

“My Lord and Sirs, I assure you, this is the best way to solve the main issue,” Lansius reiterated, his voice firm with conviction.

However, only doubt hung from the two sides.

Lord Jorge drew a heavy sigh and asked, “Lord Lansius, I truly admire your thoughts, but why do you put so much work into solving Lowlandia’s problems? I mean you’re not even born here.”

Lansius felt the stares from both sides. Their thoughts had been shaped by a world full of feuds and conflict. They knew that change was needed, but they were trapped in a mindset of conquer or be conquered. The only saving grace was that none that sat in there had any connection with slavery. Three Hills and White Lake had no part in the raids conducted by the Nicopolans mercenaries, or benefited from slave economy, otherwise it would be hard for him to conduct negotiation without addressing the elephant in the room.

The tension inside the tent ran high, and all eyes were on Lansius, waiting for his next move.

 

***