Chapter 343: Campia Manor

Horizon of War Series

Campia Manor

Lansius

Leaving the Monastery region, the silver-skinned airship glided through the night sky, its twin propellers humming at cruising speed. Inside the main stateroom, Lansius, already changed into spare clothes, stood by the front window with one hand resting on the wooden rail. Beyond the double-layered glass lay only vast darkness, broken here and there by the distant lights of neighboring cities and towns, faint as fireflies.

Even so, the sight gave him a measure of peace, something to help him wind down after all he had been through. The battle was nothing he or his men had ever expected to face.

Sometimes, without realizing it, he gripped the polished wooden rail tighter as the battle returned to him in vivid flashes, complete with its putrid, overwhelming smell.

Even if he closed his eyes, the creak of undead joints remained fresh in his ears. Then came the rattle of armor and helmets against bony, dried limbs, and their horrendous noises.

He doubted that anyone but the Hunters would get meaningful sleep for at least a few days. After fighting an army of walking corpses, it would take time before things felt normal again.

Feeling much calmer now, Lansius turned and saw the second thing that gave him peace of mind, Audrey.

Sitting cross-legged on a padded cushion over the carpet, Audrey sorted through spare daggers for use. She was no longer sweaty, but dressed in a clean, comfortable tunic and wholly absorbed in the task. Her spare brigandine lay beside her, along with her unstrung bow and a quiver of arrows neatly packed in a leather case adorned with nomadic embroidery.

To see her face again felt like a privilege. There were those dangerous hazel eyes, which only now and then softened into something sweet and gentle. Her smile, though small, carried a generous warmth. Her pout, when it came, was enough to undo him. And when blush touched her cheeks, it always caught him unguarded.

He knew fortune had favored him beyond measure. It likely had to do with how people across time held different ideas of beauty. This era was much like the past of his old world, where athletic women were often considered undesirable. Nobles and the wealthy preferred women who were soft-handed, pliant, and full through the waist and hips, what they liked to call childbearing hips.

Lansius, however, had not lost his taste. He found Audrey’s physical qualities and her many practical skills deeply appealing, while her sweet face only made her more devastating to him. Added to that was her stubborn, outspoken nature, which had saved him more than once.

It beggared belief that not many in this era would have wanted to marry her. That had much to do with the fact that she had no parents and no land to her name. She was even a squire. That combination was enough for many to consider her a bad match, if not a dead end, because she could not afford the dowry expected to marry into a man’s family.

And just like that, Lansius had secured a partner in life, who was also a loyal cavalry general and a powerful mage-knight.

Even if winning her had taken all the luck he would ever have in this life, Lansius had no regret.

At one point, he had thought her well-hidden Centurian origin might have played some part in it. He had learned that many nobles and wealthy men were said to be obsessed with having one as wife or consort. Lansius cared little for such fixations unless they crossed into crime, but he still could not help wondering what it would be like if there were more women like Audrey in this world.

Was there truly something about Centurian-born ladies beyond mere desire?

But whatever the answer, he would not be swayed. For none could eclipse what Audrey had done.

The Lady of the House was not aware of it, but after tonight’s near-disastrous victory, Lansius would have let her bathe in gold beads if she had wished.

And it was not only out of personal love. Her merit in their victory was truly immense.

The entire punitive force inside the Monastery would almost certainly have been killed, tortured, or turned into undead if she had not fatally struck the lich in the neck. By slaying the fell creature, she had saved their entire House, if not Midlandia itself and the Shogunate beyond it.

Lansius drew a sharp breath. Without even trying, that scene flashed vividly through his mind again. The lightning strike that had come out of nowhere, engulfing the entire corridor in harsh light with a thunderous crack and knocking out a hundred of their men. And him fighting the lich in a duel to the death, nearly choked to death if not for her timely intervention.

Then a thought struck him. What if he had survived, only to lose her?

The wounds they had taken in that fight were the worst either of them had suffered since their days in Korelia. That they had survived when so many stronger men had fallen was nothing short of a miracle.

Only now did Lansius begin to understand how Shah Jahan must have felt after losing his beloved wife.

No wonder he built the Taj Mahal.

And he could not help cherishing Audrey all the more.

He could foresee that many would surely have called Audrey, Lichbane, like one of the famed great progenitors from children’s stories. It was certainly a title of great prestige. Sadly, with so few knowing her true identity, she would never receive the honor she had earned. She chose to remain hidden so she could strike from the dark at anyone reckless enough to threaten their family.

For her to leave such a title unclaimed pained Lansius a little. He would have proudly paraded his wife before visiting dignitaries and haughty nobles alike, naming her Lichbane and watching their faces turn to awe or tighten with fear.

And that was not all. For slaying the lich, and for her part in the fighting at the vanguard beside the Hunters in the Monastery courtyard, where she had cut down hundreds of undead herself, Lansius could have made Dame Jane a Banneret. It would have raised the House’s standing all the more.

That would have created an administrative nightmare, as Dame Jane did not officially exist. The only way to resolve it would have been to acknowledge that the Dame truly existed, likely by first recording her as a visiting knight, then placing her on the official payroll as befitted her stature.

Audrey would certainly have welcomed the arrangement and the extra pay that came with it. She loved swords and armor. Next on her list were lighter armor for cavalrymen and, as Lansius had once told her, very long but hollow lances made to give greater reach without adding too much weight or sacrificing control. That alone would have made their lancers more formidable in a charge.

That, of course, was a borrowed idea from Lansius’ own world, the famed kopia lance of the Winged Hussars.

Audrey’s sorting through the daggers and setting aside the best of them brought Lansius back from his thoughts. The fresh daggers had come from their personal storage. Various blade smiths sent them gifts of their work, and this seemed as good a time as any to make use of them.

The one she had used tonight was now sealed in a locked box. It was the one that had taken the lich’s life. While it could be cleaned with a soak in wine vinegar or even fire, truthfully, he would not risk anyone being tainted by a lich’s blood, or worse, cursed over a single dagger.

They would likely hand it over to the Hunter Guild. If anyone knew whether such a thing should be kept or destroyed, it was them.

Audrey had no special bond to her weapons. To her, they were tools, and she preferred them functional over decorated, knowing they would likely break and need replacing or be lost in battle.

Even the claymore she had now grown very fond of, if something happened to it, she would gladly order a new and improved one. Frankly, Lansius thought she would already have done so after spending so much time training with it.

In this case, she would probably make an exception only if she ever found a dwarven weapon. They had already contacted the Explorer Guilds in search of suitable dwarven artifacts, but they had been warned that dwarven blades were rare.

Based on the ball bearings he had encountered, Lansius suspected that the dwarves were likely already more advanced and had little use for bladed weapons. Thus, whatever pieces the explorers found were probably old relics or heirlooms. Still, Lansius reminded himself that with the existence of runes and magic, the situation might be different.

However, the guild claimed that, for a good price, they had a stockpile of dwarven metal and a talented smith and blade smith who could fashion one to their needs.

Lansius was intrigued by the proposition. However, he still meant to seek a second or third opinion before making any decision. Although he could afford to spend freely on it, prudence with money was in his blood. He also had his reputation at stake. If he overspent badly, others might start looking to draw huge profits from him as well, and that could hurt his House for years to come.

As he moved away from the window to sit on their bed, Lansius saw that Audrey had taken a liking to a new dagger, one that did not look gaudy, but robust and sharp, forged from crucible steel. She sheathed and unsheathed it again and again to break in the leather, so it would be quicker to draw.

Meanwhile, outside their room, he could faintly hear the guards sharpening the claymore with a whetstone in case it was needed again. Keeping weapons and armor in top condition after battle was one of the House’s traditions. They were always ready for the next fight.

Audrey suddenly rose and brought one of the knives to him.

“For me?” Lansius asked. “But I still have my old one.”

“It’s a throwing knife. I’ve seen your axe throw. You might need more control, but your accuracy is good. You’ll do well with this.”

“It was just fortunate. The lich couldn't see my approach, was standing still, and the range was perfect," he said while examining the throwing knife.

Knowing her husband well, Audrey simply smiled faintly and pressed the knife into his hand.

Lansius gratefully took it and unsheathed it to test the balance.

Audrey’s nose suddenly twitched as she caught the odd smell. She sniffed at Lansius’ clothes, then at herself.

“Yeah, we all need a proper scrub,” he said. The smell of blood, rot, and worse was hard to get rid of.

Audrey let out a tired sigh. “How long before landing?”

“Probably another hour.”

She gave a soft groan like a lady, which was rare for her.

They had yet to do a proper cleaning, only wiping away the worst of the grime with a cloth. Out of caution, they had also kept their clothes, gear, and armor in an empty barrel, concerned that fighting the undead might have exposed them to some deadly pathogen or fungus. Or, in the understanding of people here, miasma.

Their clothes and armor would be boiled before their squires and servants handled them for further cleaning. Fortunately, boiling things clean was common practice, used to kill lice or bugs in clothes and bedding, and so it was considered only normal.

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“Too bad we can’t use the Monastery's famed hot springs,” Lansius said.

Audrey glanced at him. “With the undead, I’m not sure it’s safe.” Then she asked, “What’s the plan anyway? The Monastery is now under our banner.”

“I’ll ask the Hunter Guild to set up a base there. They can profit from visitors to the healing hot springs while keeping the area safe from future undead infestation.”

“That's a sound plan,” she agreed. “What about the monastery folk?”

“That depends on the bailiff’s investigation.” Lansius crossed his arms. “But I’ll likely allow some of those with lesser involvement in the rebellion to continue their work under the Hunter Guild’s direction. They’ll receive minimal pay, but that is still better than exile.”

Audrey nodded in understanding.

Anyone who remained with the Monastery during the siege was considered complicit in treason against the ruling House. Thus, even those with lesser guilt faced exile and forced labor. In a way, the punishment Lansius described was already a leniency.

As they spoke, a soft color slowly appeared along the distant horizon, a faint pink glow beyond the glass window.

“It’s dawn already,” Audrey said, fascinated by the view.

“Then we should be near,” Lansius answered, comforted by the light after all the horrors he had endured.

Audrey must have felt the same, because she softly quoted a line she had memorized from one of the books. “May the light wash and cleanse the corruption.”

The silver airship cruised majestically through the changing sky, aided by a strong tailwind, heading toward one of their manors, one with broad, flat plains for an easy landing. It had been chosen both for its relative distance from the Monastery and for how easily it could communicate with and be supplied by other cities.

There, Lansius’ family had rested for several days with the guards.

Though they ought to have been halfway to Korelia by now, Lansius had long harbored suspicions about the Monastery, and acting on them had proven beyond wise.

***

Campia Manor

With their destination in sight, the silver airship began releasing some of its lighter gas from separate internal chambers, carefully alternating between fore and aft to keep itself level. Soon, its twin wooden propellers slowed to a near idle in preparation for landing. A cool wind swept across the grassy field as if to welcome its arrival. With quiet grace, the vessel descended, its silver skin bathed in the glory of the morning sun.

As it touched the ground, several crewmen hurried out to secure it with ropes tied to the iron stakes that had been set beforehand. Meanwhile, the propellers slowed and wound down to a stop.

With no time to waste, half the crew inspected the vessel’s massive outer skin for damage, while the others checked the wooden propeller blades and the mechanism that drove them. Maintaining this leviathan was vital to keeping it airworthy.

The clearing beside the manor, used for horse training, was wide enough to hold several airships if needed. The few ground crew who had sighted the airship’s approach were already there to lend assistance. Then, from the manor house, the House’s riders, carriage hands, and guards moved quickly to secure the vessel, their voices and footfalls rising together in the fresh morning air.

The mounted guards saw the Lord and Lady disembark from the airship under escort, and their hearts lifted, knowing Blue and Bronze had once again triumphed.

Before entering the carriage that came to pick them up, the Lord turned back to the airship and its crew, who at once stood ready and gave their salute.

The Lord answered with a warm smile. “Gratitude for the hospitality. It was a great flight.”

At his side, the Lady added, “From the bottom of my heart, gratitude for all your help and for the risks you willingly took in this campaign. We will see that all of you are rewarded accordingly.”

The crew was pleased by her words. The Lord and Lady entered the carriage and rode to the manor.

Meanwhile, the squire Margo led the House’s squires, pages, and servants in securing their Lord’s belongings. In matters of luxury, the Lord and Lady traveled light, without hauling furniture or chests packed full of clothes like other nobles. In the House of Blue and Bronze, what they carried instead was armor, necessary changes of formal and informal attire, and boxes of weapons.

Wherever the Lord went, there were always hard cases filled with Xbows or cranequins, along with enough bolts to make even a small baronial force think twice. They also carried spare blades, poleaxes, and shields, enough to arm anyone onboard if needed.

Margo had noticed that some of the stores were empty, likely used in the fighting at the Monastery. Stranger still, he had not seen the rest of the retinue anywhere onboard. Finding one of the crewmen, Margo asked, “Where’s Sir Sterling and Francisca? I don’t even see Lady Ingrid?”

The Dawn crewman, only a few years older than him, gladly came over. His eyes were red, and he ran a hand through his hair before slinging an arm around Margo’s shoulder like an old friend. He had been in Korelia since last year and had served with the first airship crew.

“Boy, do I have a story to tell you.”

His words drew everyone’s attention.

An older squire, carrying luggage in both hands, asked, “Tell us. How did the battle go in there?”

Another was doubtful. “But were you even involved in the fighting? I heard the Lord only went to observe.”

That only made the crewman’s smile widen. “Have you seen the Lord and Lady’s attire? They’re in spare clothes, and their armor is being kept in a barrel marked for boiling.”

His words left everyone staring curiously.

“You mean they got involved in the fighting?” Margo asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Everyone did. Give it a few more minutes, and even crewmen like me probably would have been ordered into the fight. The situation was that critical.” The crewman was clearly enjoying the attention.

Margo quickly asked, “Just what kind of trickery did the enemy use that the Lord had to go down there?”

“The large army led by Sir Harold failed?” one muttered in disbelief.

“Not quite,” the crewman said. “You know, they weren’t fighting some small force. Heck, they weren’t even fighting humans.”

There were gasps from the boys.

“Ghouls,” a young page said.

“Fell beasts,” another muttered.

But Margo looked unconvinced. His sweet face, enough to make even many ladies envious, pouted. “You’re just making things up.”

“I knew you’d say that.” The crewman slipped a hand into the deep pocket of his flight jacket and took out a hand-sized object wrapped in linen. He carefully unwrapped it, revealing a sheet of waxed parchment. As the wrapping came loose, a putrid odor quickly wafted from it. Then, once it was half-open, he showed them a hand bone already bleached white, with dark flesh still melting from the joints.

The squires, pages, and servants widened their eyes. Some gasped at the sight of it and exchanged troubled glances.

In a serious tone that carried his Dawn accent, the crewman said, “A few hours ago, this thing was still moving, even clutching a sword. And there are thousands of them in the Monastery. Walking corpses with swords and spears. I tell you, the fight damn near broke us. If not for the Lady—” He stopped himself for a moment. “I mean, the silver-masked swordsman and the Hunters, the army and the whole cause might have been lost.”

Margo exhaled sharply. His face still showed disbelief. He turned to his people and motioned for them to move. “Story time is over. Back to work.”

As the others returned to their tasks, the crewman simply stood there with a tired face and yawned. He had wrapped up the grotesque artifact and slipped it back into his pocket. He had been at his post for nearly the entire day and night, and muttered, “By Chesty, I need sleep.”

As the work resumed, Margo approached the crewman again and asked, “You haven’t told me about the retinue.”

The crewman leaned closer and whispered, “It's a secret, but you’re close to the Lord anyway. Sir Harold is badly wounded. Nearly dead.”

Margo’s eyes had never gone so wide, but the crewman’s face remained stoic. He was dead serious.

“Francisca, too. Despite the Healers’ efforts, she has yet to open her eyes.” His voice heavy with regret.

Margo recoiled. He had not expected the cost of this supposedly small battle to be so high.

But the crewman was not finished. “I haven’t even told you about Sir Morton. And there’s someone else the men were grieving for, ah, Gregory,” he said, his voice low and heavy. “He’s dead. Two of the Hunters we shared a feast with two days ago didn’t make it either.”

“By the Ancients...” Margo turned away from his people, his hands shaking.

“Lady Ingrid is all right. She’s helping with her expertise. As for Claire, she was ordered to stay by Sir Sterling’s side. Our friend had it rough. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

“What kind of battle brought down so many?” Margo whispered, his voice broken.

The crewman’s eyes sharpened as he said, “Liches. More than one. Fell beasts too, and other things even I find hard to fathom.”

“Grand Progenitor Fathers, protect us,” Margo muttered.

“If not for the Lord and Lady, the undead would have risen, starting with the Monastery and then spreading across all Midlandia.”

“Undead blight,” Margo muttered, troubled. It had happened before, and the last time, the heroes of old had fought and sacrificed themselves to end it. He had never imagined he would live in an age like the ones told of in legends.

The crewman let out a sigh. “To think the Lord and Lady could still keep a straight face after stopping such a catastrophe. They’re truly heroes. Oh, I nearly forgot the most important part.”

Margo looked at him, bracing himself.

“The silver mask, you know who I mean, is the one who slew the Lich Mother.”

Margo clapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from gasping aloud.

“And the Lord is the one who dueled the fell creature. I heard he nearly died. Eighty of his best were struck down.”

The squire remained speechless, trying to imagine what kind of fight could bring down the House’s finest and nearly kill the Master of the House himself.

“When this spreads to the pilgrims, they’ll certainly worship the Lord much harder,” the crewman said with a weary chuckle.

Margo let out a groan, knowing he would have an even harder time keeping the Lord and Lady secure.

The crewman chortled. “I’m not envious of your job at all.” He paused, then added, “A piece of advice. The Lord’s neck is bruised. Better not ask about it. It’ll only make him even more self-conscious.”

“Gratitude for the advice,” Margo said.

The crewman waved it off. “Don’t mention it. You and I fight under the same banner.”

Before he left, Margo asked, “So, who’s in charge of the army now?”

“Sir Harold’s vice, Sir Stefan. There’s also Walter of the SAR. Lady Ingrid is there as well, and Sir Stan. There should be no issue.”

Margo nodded. “Indeed. There are plenty of capable people in high places.”

The crewman turned to him, pride on his face. “That’s why the Shogunate is strong. Not even undead and liches could bring it down.”

***

Campia Manor

Two days after the Night of Liches

Sunlight had come through the windows of the manor’s largest chamber, but only the sound of soft, steady snores filled it. Little Gill woke first when an itch troubled his face. Unable to do anything about it, he began to cry, waking the entire chamber.

Audrey attended to the baby first, enduring his cries rather than risking a rash. She carefully cleaned him with a cloth dampened in clean water, dressed him in fresh clothes, and then took him into her arms.

“There, there, you’re clean now,” she murmured merrily to the boy, but he kept crying.

She rocked him gently, but it did little to calm him. She checked his stomach next, tapping it lightly with a finger to see if it was bloated, but it did not seem to be. Then she noticed a patch of redness on his cheek. Wiping it softly seemed to improve his mood. Not long after, he grew hungry and began to burrow his face against his mother’s bosom.

Watching him, Audrey could not resist a smile. She skillfully opened a few buttons, adjusted the baby, and he greedily latched on to feed.

Meanwhile, the father had fallen asleep again. The battle from two nights ago still wore him down.

Audrey had begun to understand that Lansius was a bit of an oddity. When he was worn down, he could sleep for long stretches. He would wake to eat, do some work, or take a short walk, and then drift off again. Odd as it seemed, their physician believed it was the best thing for him.

It was simply how his body wanted to recover.

On that matter, no one wanted to argue. Many times in the past, Lansius had tried to keep a normal schedule after a battle, only to fall sick afterward. It seemed that letting him rest as he wished was the safer choice.

Little Gill, or Gilly as many called him, fell asleep in her arms, and Audrey tickled his ear now and then to keep him drinking. Otherwise, he would grow cranky again before long.

Half an hour passed before Audrey finally let Mother Arryn and the maid take Gill from her. They would play and care for him while Audrey fulfilled her role as Lady of the House. She worked with Tanya, Margo, and the scribes to handle the day-to-day business of governing the realm while traveling.

Today, there were new recommendations for promising local talent, requests for audience, disputes to settle, and the usual reports from various cities. More than an hour later, they finally came to the most important matter of the day: the capitulation of the Monastery.

More troubling still were the rumors that one lich had survived.

The Hunter from Dawn, pilot of the silver airship and a retainer of Lady Ella, had become their link to the Hunter Guild through hawk messages. By seniority, he had also been the one whose support allowed Lansius to persuade the Hunter Guild to lend their assistance.

Now the Hunter stood in the middle of the manor’s hall, giving his brief report. He ended it with, “I assure you, My Lady, the Guild Leader is handling it himself. You should not worry.”

“But there is reason to worry. We are speaking of a lich, after all,” Audrey said.

“A young lich, My Lady. She was but a child to the Lich Mother. Even if she is gifted and fearless in preying on humans, it will take years before her power fully manifests.”

“I understand that,” Audrey said. “But what about phylactery?”

The Hunter, strong-looking yet seasoned, curled his lips in a faint smile. He had heard the rumors, but it seemed the Lady truly was a protégé. “My Lady is wise, but you should not worry. Even if it contains part of the Lich Mother’s soul, it would only be a fragment, and it would require plenty of flesh and souls before it could turn formidable.”

“It is still concerning,” Audrey said. “I will not allow even a single child to endure this horror.”

“That will not happen. The Guild Master is on the hunt.”

His near-blind confidence was intriguing. "I have seen the old man in action," Audrey said.

“With respect, My Lady,” the Hunter said, his voice hard with certainty. “What happened at the Monastery was no hunt. It was an ambush. Now the situation is reversed. I would wager every coin I have that the Guild Leader will prevail. More so now that he has gained an unexpected strong ally.”

***

1. As I feared, there are always a few who claim that Lansius' arrival is a deus ex machina, but that is far from the truth. The story has already established plenty of setup for his arrival. My policy is not to repeat the same hints over and over again, so it is up to readers to find them.

The strongest evidence is the new words of encouragement used in this arc. Aside from "For the Blue and Bronze," we now have "The Lord and Lady are watching," introduced in this arc and used continuously. Those words literally say the setup.😅

They are watching the siege and the battle -> Where? -> Likely from the sky.

As you can see, the setup is already generous enough, if not obvious, to invite questions and curiosity. If I don't try to hide it at all and simply give it away, then we'll have no payoff.😅 I rest my case.

2. I’ll be on mandatory company leave next week, so there’ll be no chapter on Tuesday the 23rd or Friday the 26th.

Normal schedule will resume on Tuesday the 30th (hopefully. it depends on various factor beyond my control).

Gratitude for the attention. 💖🦆