Chapter 27: The Die is Cast

Horizon of War Series

The Die is Cast

The Banner of the Unknown.

“They’re coming!” Audrey pulled the reins and brought her mount to a hard stop.

Ahead of her stood Lansius, the leader of their ragtag army. Though many dismissed him as a no-name exiled noble from a distant kingdom, Audrey trusted him enough to join his seemingly suicidal offensive.

“Listen well,” Lansius called his men. “Hold until they are within crossbow range. Then we fall back to the trenches.”

His command did little to ease the fear in his men, but Lansius paid no heed. His gaze shifted to Audrey.

“Take the cavalry and break through as planned.”

Audrey stared at him with a cold, piercing gaze that could easily frighten children and adults alike.

“I’ll be fine. Go. Move as planned,” Lansius said, almost lightly. He knew her well enough to understand the meaning behind her stare.

“You too. Let’s get some drinks after this is over,” he said, despite the overwhelming odds.

Audrey went to her cavalrymen and rallied them. A moment later, fifty riders moved out against the enemy's right wing.

At least she’s with the cavalry, Lansius thought while suppressing a sigh of relief.

He knew that if the worst came to pass, Audrey still stood a fair chance of escaping. Two seasons had passed since their fateful reunion at Toruna Manor, yet here they were again, staring down another armed conflict. At moments like this, Lansius couldn't help but feel despair in their new lives as henchmen.

Lord Arte, busy gathering followers and currying favor with Midlandia’s nobility, had given his approval for Lord Bengrieve to employ Lansius. Now, Lansius had assumed a fake identity as an exiled knight from the Mercantile Kingdom. If he were found out, he would surely lose his head.

While Lansius wrestled with those thoughts, fear continued to gnaw through the ranks. Even with their cavalry riding out in force, the men were hardly convinced.

The Midlandians had enlisted for what they believed would be a simple raiding party, not a pitched battle. They saw Lansius as an exiled noble from a foreign kingdom, with no reputation or standing to claim a fiefdom, and so no one had expected him to start an open war.

Yet here they were, facing off against the Lion of Lowlandia, the biggest name in the region. The sight of the viscount’s banners, fluttering boldly in the wind, sent chills down their spines.

Many muttered curses under their breath, their eyes darting nervously between the enemy’s imposing formation and their own ragtag troop. The thought of fleeing to save themselves constantly crossed their minds.

Although Lansius had treated them well, nobody wished to die for his foolish cause. Many felt betrayed, like sacrificial pawns led to a butcher’s shop. The thought made their stomachs churn.

The only thing that stopped them from killing the black-haired bastard and breaking formation was desperation.

It was clear to all that their situation was beyond hopeless, with flat grassland stretching in all directions for miles, leaving nowhere to hide. Whoever fled would be easily chased and slaughtered, or captured as slaves.

Their fear drove them to quietly follow Lansius, who oddly had yet to show signs of panicking.

Unbeknownst to his men, Lansius himself was inches away from a nervous breakdown.

Am I really doing this?

Watching the ordered lines of armored men advancing toward him made him second guess. However, Lansius had bet everything on his reckless plan. He had poured his money into recruiting more men, horses, and equipment, risked the trust of his benefactors, and even drawn the woman he loved into this madness, because Audrey had stubbornly wanted to participate in this madness.

Lord Bengrieve and Sir Stan’s original design had been simple. Lansius was to create a diversion, allowing Midlandia’s forces to lay siege to another barony and secure their back line.

Lansius had learned that a bitter divide ran between prosperous Midlandia and the poorer lords of Lowlandia, who secretly supported raiding activities on their vast border. Now, with Midlandia poised to fight a major war against the unified northern people, they needed to secure their weakest border.

To ensure victory, Midlandia was willing to sacrifice hundreds of men to prevent the Old Lion from sending a relief force to his besieged neighbor. Yet for all that hostility, Lord Bengrieve still wished to preserve decent relations with the powerful viscount.

That made Lansius, a foreigner, the perfect choice. Even if he and his command staff were taken, little could be traced back to Midlandia’s court.

Outwardly, Lansius had accepted the plan. On its face, it was simple enough. He was to lead these cheaply recruited troops as a decoy for as long as they could hold, then escape with the cavalry and leave the rest to capture and death.

However, he couldn’t bring himself to sacrifice the men.

The troops under him might be nothing but the unfortunates, the lowlifes, and the rowdiest scumbags in all of Midlandia, but they were still his men.

But mercy wasn’t the main reason why Lansius had reneged on the plan. For he had seen a sliver of hope, and ever since learning of the possibility, he had been torn between risking everything for a chance to win big, or playing it safe by sticking to Lord Bengrieve’s plan.

Only now, with the enemy so close, did Lansius begin to feel truly at peace with his decision.

If you lot are destined to die, then let’s test our fates against the heavens.

Lansius had risked everything on this gamble, even Lord Bengrieve’s trust in him. He had knowingly strayed from his benefactor’s design, driven by the hope of winning greater reward for his master and proving his own worth as quickly as he could.

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He had judged that this departure posed little danger to Lord Bengrieve’s larger design. The force he sent was meant to serve as a decoy, drawing the Lion’s attention away from Midlandia’s ongoing siege.

And since Lord Bengrieve had already written off Lansius’s men, any victory won from such a venture would count as tremendous merit. So, trusting his instincts, Lansius had ordered two hundred men to raise a camp and dig three horseshoe-shaped trenches twelve days earlier. The first was the longest, with two smaller ones cut behind it.

The foremost trench was meant to serve as the main fighting line, while the two behind it would support it and hold the reserve. Lansius had chosen the site because the ground was soft and easy to work.

The scouts had learned that the place flooded from time to time during the monsoon. That made it possible to draw clean water by digging crude wells. Because of this, they were able to prevent some of the rampant disease and its effects, such as deadly diarrhea.

While Lansius and his men labored over the site, Sir Justin, a surviving Arvenian knight turned mercenary in Lord Bengrieve’s service, led fifty cavalry and two hundred men deep into Lord Robert’s lands to raid and draw him out.

Things seemingly advanced as planned; however, they had badly underestimated the strength of Lord Robert’s forces.

...

Calub, the alchemist who had also joined Lord Bengrieve’s mercenary company, jogged to Lansius’s side. With a small gesture, he drew him away from the men. Once they were out of easy earshot, Calub muttered, “The scouts were not exaggerating. It is a thousand.”

The words tightened something in Lansius’s gut. He had prepared himself to face a force twice his own, but numbers like that made an already dangerous plan turn truly precarious.

“How in the world can a viscount muster a thousand men?” Lansius muttered in disbelief.

Calub waved the complaint aside and pressed, “Can we win this?”

Lansius caught the worry on the man’s tanned face and looked away. He needed a moment to think.

Four hundred of our ragtag army against a thousand of the best Lowlandians? We’re doomed . . .

Calub exhaled impatiently and massaged his temple. He then looked around at the advancing enemy troops in the distance and changed the subject. “Is Audrey with the cavalry?”

Lansius nodded weakly. “Yes. Why?”

“Good. She should be able to make her escape. Then I’ll pack.” Calub turned away.

Lansius caught Calub’s arm and asked, “You’re leaving?”

“You’re not?” Calub asked in disbelief. “Lans, this whole thing, your plan is breaking apart. We should flee while we can.”

Lansius shook his head. “They’re more numerous than expected, but that doesn’t mean my plan won’t work. Let’s give it a chance.”

Calub’s eyes widened, and he muttered something under his breath, yet still hesitated.

“They’re getting closer!” one of the lookouts cried, his voice close to panic.

Lansius strained his eyes as their cavalry formed a wedge formation, while the viscount’s right wing across the field took shape in a line formation.

The sight of hundreds of galloping horses across the green grassland was a spectacle. Massive, colorful flags flew from the bannermen, adding to the stunning visual display.

“I can’t watch.” Calub turned away, his voice filled with dread. “By the Ageless, have you forgotten about those days in Feodosia?”

“That’s why the big boy is with her.” Lansius nervously wiped the sweat from his forehead as he watched the two cavalries on a collision course.

“Him? That’s . . . not entirely promising,” Calub said with an equally nervous smile.

“Lances down! They’re lowering their lances,” the lookouts cried out, drawing everyone’s attention.

The vibrant spectacle came to a sudden halt as the two sides clashed in a brutal head-on collision. Lances shattered and pierced through flesh with sickening thuds. In mere moments, cavalrymen were thrown off their horses or impaled by steel-tipped lances, reducing many valiant men to mere casualties.

The gruesome spectacle left everyone feeling sickened.

Watching as Audrey courageously led her cavalry, gave Lansius a much-needed mental slap to the face. She trusted him enough to put her life on the line. He clenched his fist and felt his blood slowly boil. There was little time to observe her fight as the enemy’s main group had closed in on Lansius’s position.

“Sound the signal. Move to the trench,” Sir Justin, one of the few who had plate armor, ordered.

In response to his order, three hundred men started to descend into the trenches, where another hundred stood ready.

The men looked pale, and a few were already quivering.

Lansius let out a sigh, but knew that they were the only ones available to a no-name upstart like himself.

Sir Justin approached Lansius from his post. His familiar-looking squire followed behind.

“Sir Justin, Hugo,” Calub addressed them.

Hugo bowed his head to Calub. Fate had played a cruel joke on him by reuniting him with Lansius as a subordinate. They had buried the hatchet and now Hugo tried to win Lansius’s trust, but he ended up in this suicidal plan. He lamented his luck, and like the rest, desperately wanted Lansius’s plan to work.

Sir Justin nodded at Calub before turning to his squire, Hugo. “Protect us,” he commanded.

Hugo dutifully placed himself between them and the enemy and raised his shield.

Lansius saw the knight’s gaze shift to him. “Commander, last chance,” Sir Justin said, giving Lansius the option to retreat or prepare for battle.

Despite feeling drenched in cold sweat, Lansius summoned his courage and responded, “I think I’ll risk it. Sir, can I count on you?”

The older gentlemen nodded. “I’ll give it my best.”

“Gratitude, sir.” Lansius bowed his head slightly.

“Don’t feel too indebted. If things go awry, I only need to discard half my armor to run. My horses are fast, and my men are strong enough to escort me out.”

The honesty of the former knight, now mercenary, drew a chuckle from Lansius. “Sir, please call me by name. I’m hardly your superior.”

Sir Justin grinned. “I’m pretty sure they made you the commander.”

“Men will follow someone they respect,” Lansius remarked.

The knight was pleased, and he turned his gaze toward the advancing enemy. “Lord Robert has good troops.”

“Indeed. Meanwhile ours . . .” Lansius couldn’t resist comparing.

The poor and unfortunate, also the scum of every town and village. They are every bit unfit as soldiers. More like a bunch of bandits . . .

The knight snorted. “What we got might be not as good or well equipped, but at least they’ll follow orders.”

“That’s true . . .” Lansius admitted as he watched their last group of men descend into the trenches with a mixture of gratitude and guilt.

Surely, following me was a big leap of faith for them, especially when I employed such an unknown strategy that involves digging a series of ditches in the middle of nowhere like here.

“I better go,” Calub suddenly announced.

“Calub,” Lansius called out. “Next time, remind me to double-check our opponent’s strength.”

Calub let out a deep breath. “If we make it out of this alive.” Then he turned to the knight. “Sir, may I ask why you agreed to this plan? You must have known Lord Robert is a formidable warlord.”

The knight gave a short chuckle. “I’ve always wanted to see the Lion in the field.”

Calub let out a frustrated breath and looked back at Lansius. “Lans, I hope your plan works.”

“If it doesn’t work . . . see you in the afterlife?” Lansius joked, pressing against the limit of his fear.

Calub gave a faint chuckle and made for the trenches. He was needed on the far right, where the fighting would likely be fiercest.

“We need to move,” Hugo interrupted urgently. Just then, the sound of an arrow slicing through the air reached their ears.

“Right, right . . .” Lansius took a final glance at the enemy formation before quickly making his way to the ladder.

Sir Justin and Hugo followed suit, with a few crossbow bolts whizzing above their heads as they descended. Finally, at the bottom, the smell of earth and humidity greeted them.

One of the aides handed Lansius his crossbow, and he proceeded to check how the string felt. The dampness in trenches could affect the string, but he felt that the tension was all right. Next, he checked the bolts in, two quivers on his belt, each with twelve bolts.

Sir Justin secured his poleaxe while Hugo fetched his bascinet and helped fasten it tight.

Lansius finished up by wearing a sallet helmet. Its layers of linen padding felt comfortable. It wasn’t a full-face but had a retractable visor. Now, after a lot of doubting and second-guessing everything about his own decision, he finally felt a sense of clarity.

With everything in place, there was nothing left now but war.

⠀

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