Pieces in Place
Foothill below the Monastery
Sir Harold and his garrison staff left the condemned smuggler captives bound to the palisade and placed the merchants’ porters into detention, then turned to reorganize the troops to formally receive the reinforcements. Reports came in quickly. The current tally already stood at over one thousand men, with estimates that over two thousand would arrive in total. Most were assigned to logistical duties, as the camp needed to be resupplied in preparation for the coming winter.
Without waiting for confirmation, the staff readily assumed that the additional fighting force would number only in the hundreds. Yet from the reports, it became clear that nearly half were veterans of the past war, men who had stood with the Lord during the One Night Rebellion. Having recovered from their wounds, they had returned to the fight. Such men were worth more than ten times any fresh recruit.
In truth, the garrison itself was not in dire need of additional fighting men. With just under two thousand already present, they had sufficient strength to launch an assault. With the reinforcements, their numbers now pushed well beyond the two thousand mark.
More importantly, they now had war ducks. Reports confirmed no fewer than ninety of them.
The arrival of the beasts drew immediate attention and quickly became the focus of discussion across the formation and throughout the camp.
Sir Harold allowed the troops to mutter and speculate freely. He himself turned to Big Ben, asking about what had transpired in Canardia, and was surprised to learn that the Lord was returning south far sooner than expected.
“For what reason?” he asked.
“I am not privy to such matters,” Big Ben replied, his tone oddly proud, as if the lack of knowledge itself were a point of honor. “You should consult the letter penned by Sister Francisca.”
Reminded of the letter, Sir Harold took it at once, checked the seal to ensure it was intact and untampered, then broke it and read. After a time, he folded the parchment neatly and slipped it into his pocket.
His vice and the rest of the staff exchanged glances. Something was clearly unfolding behind the scenes.
The two riders at the front of the reinforcement finally arrived. Their escort readily dismounted, but the camp vice had already raised his hand, and squires and nearby men moved at once to take the horses and offer assistance.
Despite wearing dashing red plate armor, the first rider dismounted easily, jumping down without help. He was known among the troops as Sir Stan, Baronet of Toruna, rumored to have bested a mage assassin during the night battle of Cascasonne.
The second rider was a lovely lady with shoulder-length blonde hair. She was helped down by a squire, who quickly flushed red, for she possessed a distinct, foreign beauty. More than mere appearance, the tale of her last stand at Cascasonne had spread widely among the recruits, many of whom were Midlandians who had once been loyal to House Bengrieve.
With Big Ben and members of his staff flanking him, Sir Harold walked forward to meet the two as they approached side by side.
“Sir Stan. Lady Valerie,” Sir Harold greeted.
“Sir Harold,” Sir Stan replied energetically and clasped Harold’s hand at once, then patted his back, stopping just short of a brotherly embrace. As a baronet, he should have maintained formality. But he did not care, treating Harold as a fellow battle brother. With the Imperium gone, he had readily discarded the old ways and their stifling customs.
Thin smirks and quiet grins appeared on many faces among the men. It was rare to see another man as tall and imposing as Sir Harold. The thought that such a warrior had arrived as reinforcement sent a surge of confidence through the camp.
“Apologies for being late,” Lady Valerie said after taking the drink offered by the squire. “We were en route when we heard rumors of the stolen Great Gemstone and were ordered to investigate. You will hear more from the leader of this column.” With that, she excused herself from further formal exchange, as she held no official role in the army.
“They feared an ambush,” Sir Stan added after finishing his drink in one gulp.
"Yes, I am aware,” Sir Harold replied, recalling a message he had received more than two weeks earlier. “It was a sound decision. Had you split your force, you might have been caught in an ambush. Fanaticism runs high in this region.”
“So close to the Monastery, it is to be expected,” Sir Stan remarked.
“Also, none of you are late,” Sir Harold said, turning his gaze toward the Monastery perched atop the hill. “That sore building is still very much standing.”
Sir Stan, Lady Valerie, and their escort followed the knight commander’s gaze toward the Monastery. For Sir Stan, it stirred mixed feelings. As a member of House Bengrieve, he had been there several times before being ousted for fornicating within its walls. Yet he had never imagined that he would one day face it as an enemy.
The Monastery had been one of the House’s grand creations, founded by the previous generation as a means to control the masses and to slowly begin an independent rule apart from the Imperium. Yet it had reneged, allied with the wrong crowd, and now he stood here to help bring it down.
Sir Stan lamented this in silence, thinking of the many female mages who resided within its walls. His heart ached at the thought that he might be forced to slay so many Saint Candidates, should they prove fully indoctrinated by the old hag, Nay.
As the rest of the reinforcements marched, the sun slowly sank beyond the horizon, its dying light washing the Monastery in red.
***
Lansius
In a manor west of Varsovia City, Lansius’ convoy stopped on their travel to Ornietia. After dinner, Lansius and Audrey met with Sir Omin in the manor’s upper hall, where the chandelier burned bright, and the stone walls held the day’s fading warmth.
“There are strong reasons to continue the previous administration’s reforms,” Sir Omin broached the main subject.
Audrey, seated beside Lansius, knitted her brows and asked, “You mean Reginald’s reforms? That is unexpected. Why?”
“Indeed, My Lady. The core issue lies with the many families tied to the wealthy Thirty Houses of the region,” Omin began. “For centuries, they have remained untouchable, appointing relatives to positions of power and enriching themselves in the process. Everyone outside those families suffers.”
“But we defeated the Thirty Houses of South Midlandia in the war. I believe many of their supporters also fell during the rebellion,” she quickly pointed out.
"Indeed, we uprooted many, including the powerful Houses of Krakusa. However, not all joined the rebellion. Right now, the problem has lessened, but it has not disappeared."
Lansius nodded slowly, crossing his arms as he weighed the matter.
Conquering the world on horseback is easy. Dismounting and governing it is hard.
He recalled the words often attributed to Genghis Khan.
Beside him, Audrey looked troubled. For all her practicality, her sense of justice remained keen. “How bad is the situation?”
“People say the law still does not apply to these families. Our bailiffs have worked hard, but there are too many of them, spread everywhere, and they are careful,” Omin replied. “These Houses were not born powerful, not raised above the law. That forced them to be smart, to learn how to slip around it. Meanwhile, justice demands proof and witnesses.”
Audrey listened attentively, allowing Omin to continue.
“These minor Houses can still hurt commoners with little consequence. No one wants to stand as a witness against them, and no one dares to bring evidence forward. We have numerous cases of past murders, even unsolved kidnappings. The likely perpetrators remained unpunished.”
“Moreover,” Omin paused, weariness creeping into his voice, “these families have dabbled in every kind of questionable trade. Before, they were merely accessories to the Thirty Houses. Now, with many of the great Houses wiped out, they have seized even more power.”
Lansius sighed. He recognized this phenomenon. When the kingpin is taken down, the rest vie to become the next one.
Turning to Audrey, he spoke. “I’m surprised the previous administration was able to make this work without conflicts of interest. Usually, there is always one provoking the other and causing trouble. Naturally, that should lead them to form groups. Each would use the other’s wrongdoing as a reason to attack.”
“That is where House Bengrieve played its role,” Omin answered. “It kept the peace by dividing them and preventing alliances. With the thirty most powerful Houses in the region at peace, the lower families dared not cause trouble. They mostly maintained cordial relations and governed themselves, so the top rarely had to get involved. Feuds between local families were rare.”
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Lansius inhaled deeply. The situation felt strange and unnatural. “What House Bengrieve did was effective, but keeping peace at all costs actually stifles growth and breeds corruption. And I have read enough records to know this region is taxed fairly yet gains so little for its size.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “And one thing bothers me.”
“What is it?” Audrey asked.
He glanced at her and explained, “If the complaints of injustice are true, then why has no one risen in arms against them? Peasants revolted many times in other regions, but I have yet to read of one occurring in Midlandia over the last century.”
“My Lord, Midlandia is fertile, demands little corvée labor, and is mostly well managed at the top. Without failed harvests or punishing taxes, commoners and peasants alike tend to tolerate injustice,” Omin explained.
Lansius considered the explanation. He did not accept it outright, but he admitted it made sense.
“What if we bring down a few of them?” Audrey suggested.
“The commoners would cheer,” Omin replied, glancing at his cousin. “But it would backfire badly. These families are everywhere. For better or worse, they have behaved as though we need them to help govern the people. On the bright side, they supported our cause and kept things stable. But we are slowly growing dependent on them.”
Audrey's mood soured, but she held back further comment.
Omin pressed on. “Many of these families become lower officers and officials. My Lord currently controls a vast area with millions of people, and even the army cannot be everywhere at once. If these families turn against us, we will be dousing the fires of war in many places.”
Lansius gave Audrey a measured look. “As much as I would like to send the bailiffs’ men to visit each one of them, that would only antagonize them further. It would be like pushing allies into enemies.”
“So will we just play along?” Audrey asked calmly, trusting Lansius to make the right call despite her reservations.
Lansius stared at the table for a moment before saying, “Well, I’m not going to let injustice win like that, so I’m going to read reports of the worst cases that went untouched and order the chief bailiffs’ team to investigate them. We'll begin with the worst offenders, it will show that nobody is above the law and, at the same time, reassure these families that we are not waging war on them.”
He breathed deeply and added, “While this won’t solve all the problems, in time it will deter these families from doing the inexcusable. Either they learn to play nice, or one day our bailiffs will get them by the throat.”
“Ah, just like what you did to Sir Ebenstein,” Audrey muttered.
After his court case and the rebellion, during which the knight cleared his name and proved he was not in league with Sir Hohendorf or the rebel army, Sir Ebenstein sold some of his land to pay the penalty. Despite being shunned by nearly everyone else, Sir Omin took him under his wing and gave him a second chance.
“My Lady and My Lord will be pleased to learn that Sir Ebenstein has been working hard for our cause,” Omin said. “He remains hard in his stance toward peasants, but when placed where his dealings are with guilds or other nobles, he has proven resourceful, thrifty, and, most of all, eager to redeem himself.”
Lansius nodded slowly. “This is not a perfect world,” he confided in them, “so while we must always strive to bring order, we must also accept that there will be some injustice. A quest to eradicate every injustice would put us against everyone. Our duty is to ensure that most cases are handled, and handled well.”
Noticing the tone, Omin bowed his head. “Then if that is everything, I will take my leave.”
“One thing,” Lansius said. “Summon Reginald here, along with one or two people who knew about his reforms. I want to discuss matters with him. Perhaps there is something I can learn and ponder while wintering in Korelia.”
With them being far from Canardia and away from Bengrieve’s envoys, Lansius could remain here for a prolonged time if he wished, without them suspecting anything. Thus, he set out to learn more about the reforms, knowing he was far from the brightest mind in the realm.
...
Manor, west of Varsovia City
The sun crested the land as if claiming a brand new day, its light spreading across roofs and fields alike. That morning, Lord Lansius decided not to continue the journey south. Instead, he allowed his men to rest and permitted them to visit the neighboring city of Varsovia, as well as the surrounding towns and villages. Many of them were locals to the region, so he did not expect the men to cause too much trouble.
Around the manor, there was no shortage of work. After several days on the road, laundry needed washing, shoes needed mending, and supplies had to be replenished. Horses required care, and even the carriages required light repairs to keep them in good condition.
For Tanya, her duty was study. Before she left, Ingrid had given her several books to read, and with Sir Omin present, she dared not slack. Somehow, the two of them had taken it upon themselves to act as her mentors.
Before she realized it, the day slipped past. She had lunch, played with baby Gilly, and wandered through the manor’s garden and orchard, eating fruit straight from the branches.
The sun waned faster than she expected. After dinner, she threw herself back into another reading session. Only when her thoughts refused to settle did she finally leave her chamber.
Without needing a lantern, as the corridor was well lit, Tanya drifted toward the manor’s balcony in search of fresh air. Not that the manor felt hot or stifling, but after days of riding in a carriage and hours spent reading within stone walls, she yearned for a space that felt less enclosed.
As she walked, she noticed the guards standing at attention as she neared. She had grown accustomed to it by now, yet it still felt largely undeserved.
In her own mind, she was still the same wool dyer from Bellandia, despite the finer clothes she now wore.
When she reached the door leading to the balcony, she found it standing wide open. A gentle night breeze drifted in to meet her, cool against her face. As she stepped closer, she soon understood why the guards had been stationed there.
“Enjoying the night breeze?” Audrey asked as Tanya approached.
“My Lady." Tanya curtsied.
Audrey smiled kindly. “Do not be so formal, little sister. There are only the guards, and they are some distance away. Just call me Audrey.”
Tanya responded with a gentle smile.
The two stood relaxed and watched over the night sky and the occasional soothing breeze.
In reality, Audrey was there not to enjoy the night breeze but to check on the area around the manor. She watched the placement of troops, the sentries at their posts, the half kins patrols, and anything that did not belong or should not have been there. Despite her title, she was still Lansius’ Captain, not some trophy wife.
Tanya then remembered that Lansius was holding a discussion in the upper hall with several prominent figures he had summoned. It looked important, and that thought lingered in her mind. “Sister, forgive my curiosity, but should you not be with Brother Lansius?”
“Ah,” Audrey murmured. “How should I say this. Your brother is too perceptive. If I am there with him, he will pause in the middle of a discussion and explain things to me. I do appreciate it, but for this kind of important talk, I want him to focus without stopping at every turn to walk me through it.”
“But Brother always values your counsel,” Tanya said, trying to reassure her.
“If he needs counsel, Sir Omin is with him, and Sterling and Francisca as well,” Audrey replied. “I do not wish to be a distraction.”
Tanya nodded and chose not to press the matter further.
The two of them continued to stand on the balcony, watching the glow of lanterns below. Light spilled across the courtyard, the manor grounds, and the distant outlines of neighboring villages beyond.
Audrey suddenly squinted toward the starry sky, and her expression changed as if she had noticed something. “Ah,” she remarked, “it seems our transports have arrived.”
“Transports?” Tanya repeated, leaning forward to look down from the balcony. Below, she saw nothing but troops encamped around the manor courtyard.
As Tanya furrowed her brow, Audrey turned to the guards. She spotted her squire and called out, “Margo.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Margo answered at once. He hurried over in his dashing red doublet and matching traveling cloak, his face too pretty for a squire, though nothing about him lacked confidence.
When he drew closer, Audrey slipped a necklace from her belt pouch and pressed it into his hand. “You remember the flash signal?”
“Yes, My Lady. Lady Ingrid made sure I memorized it,” he replied without hesitation.
“Point the gemstone there,” Audrey said, indicating the southern sky, “and send a message to me.”
Realizing the intent, Margo nodded quickly, then motioned to a young page who stole glances toward them from beside the guard to bring a wax tablet.
Audrey waited as the two prepared, then dictated, “To the ever victorious SAR and the Black Knight, welcome to Midlandia. No, scratch that. Write: Welcome home.”
The young page wrote furiously while Margo carefully translated each word into code. It was a slow process, but at least the code was already committed to memory.
Audrey left them to their work and returned her gaze to the night sky.
Beside her, Tanya tried to follow her line of sight but saw nothing beyond the dark expanse above. Then, from that direction, brief flashes flickered against the horizon like stars. “I see flashes,” she exclaimed.
Audrey simply turned toward Margo. He noted the signal, stopped his work at once, and began jotting it down. It took some time to transcribe it, word by word. When he finished, he read it aloud.
“Even the vast night sky pales in comparison to the beauty that awaits us. Forgive our tardiness, for we are laden with gold and silver, taken in noble intent and paid for in honest blood. We humbly offer these spoils of Kapua as tribute. Grant us permission to land and please accept our salute, O Mother of Monarch, whose name we carry proudly in our hearts.”
Audrey snorted, amused. “I did not know the SAR and the Black Knights were such people pleasers.”
Margo chuckled softly, while Tanya and the Page looked on, unable to understand.
Audrey continued, “There must be a mistranslation somewhere. I doubt it's monarch.”
“My apologies. That must be my fault,” Margo said, offering a thin smile.
“Then could you prepare a banquet for them?” Audrey asked.
“Of course.” He dipped his head.
“And tell the kitchen not to delay. I doubt our guests will be waiting. From what I know of Sir Morton, he is fond of making a grand entrance, either to please the Lord or to remind the guards that there is still a gap in their security,” Audrey said with an amused look.
With that, Margo hurried off toward the kitchens, while Tanya remained quietly at Audrey’s side, watching and learning how commands were given and how instructions were carried out.
In the manor’s upper hall, Lord Lansius remained deep in discussion with Sir Reginald, listening to his reform plan for Midlandia.
Francisca and the guards posted there were soon notified of the airships, and before long, they noticed two vessels inbound toward the manor.
Both flying vessels now had their lights lit, casting a moving display across the night sky that drew the attention of everyone below. The spectacle was unmistakable. One leviathan was silvery, massive, and long, its hull narrow and majestic from every angle. The other was shorter, its dark skin absorbing the light, foreboding yet equally majestic.
At the helm aboard the lead vessel was none other than Sir Morton and his victorious crew from Kapua.
***
Mountainous Region, West of Three Hills
Without delay, guided by a small group of Nicopolans, a brave band of fifty men finally set out on what was believed to be an eight-day journey deep into the mountains. They brought half kin and master masons with them, knowing there would likely be another sealed stone gate at the far end of the route.
A group of half kin had gone a day ahead as scouts, but they had yet to find the end of the passage. Instead, they reported discovering several forks along the way, each hidden with care behind camouflaged canvas and stonework.
Since not even the Nicopolans were aware of these branching paths, everyone understood that the journey would not be easy.
Some likened it to ancient tales of a labyrinth, and they feared traps.
The commander, Farkas, turned to his men, searching their faces for doubt. He found none. There was no weakness in their eyes.
Still, he addressed the youngest among them. “Are you sure of this?”
Ted, the young heir of Tedzeus, nodded hastily. “I did not come this far without seeing the end.”
Several men smirked at that.
Thus, despite the cold, stale air and the darkening shadows, the group pressed onward, leaving the jungle behind. With measured footsteps and the glow of their lanterns, they entered the belly of the mountains.
***
* Lansius’ line about books and thieves in previous chapter is based on a famous saying associated with Baghdad’s book market on Al-Mutanabbi Street: “The reader does not steal, and the thief does not read.” The saying is often used to explain why booksellers leave books outside overnight. A similar line is also linked to Mohamed Aziz, the longtime bookseller in Rabat, Morocco: “Those who cannot read do not steal books, and those who can read are not thieves.”
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