Chapter 3
Ceresia
Lansius was suddenly awoken by a chilling gust of wind, causing his body to stiffen and his face to ache from the cold. As he opened his eyes, he found himself huddled around a dimly lit campfire in an old barn. Despite the warmth from the fire, he could see his breath turn into mist.
“It’s still dawn,” whispered Stefi beside him.
Lansius nodded and clutched his rough woolen blanket tighter. Outside, the wind howled and rattled the old barn, making it seem even colder. Despite the thick rags and hay mats they had on the ground, Lansius could feel the cold seeping through.
Only the crackling fire and friendly faces brought some respite. Slowly, but surely, Lansius drifted back to sleep.
The Arvena troops had been marching for several weeks when they encountered rapidly changing weather. Nobody wanted to be stranded in a blizzard, so the Arvenians scrambled to find wintering quarters.
Lansius and his group had found refuge in an abandoned barn in Ceresia village, where they had been stuck for over a month. Yet winter was still at its peak, with frequent snowfall and blizzards.
Today was another cloudy day, with weak sunlight piercing through the gaps in the wood panels. The early risers were already up and about, preparing breakfast. It wasn’t customary for nobility and city folks to eat so early in the morning, but on a campaign, it was a necessity. Morning was one of the few times they could cook in relative peace.
A growling stomach awakened Lansius. The mixture of wine and water he had consumed each night troubled his digestion, but he needed a sip or two to ward off the cold. He almost let out a sigh, but Stefi came into his view.
“You’re awake?” She offered a bowl of stew she had just received from the cook.
“Gratitude.” He took the bowl and took a few sips, grateful for the warmth it provided.
Smells burnt just as usual, but the warmth hits the spot.
Lansius found the stew savory, so he took another spoonful. Meanwhile, Stefi quickly devoured the thick, round bread. They swapped the bowl for the bread and continued their meal.
Stefi didn’t bat an eye when they shared the bowl and spoon; partly because she was raised as a squire, but mainly because of practicality.
Most men carried a wooden plate and spoon, but washing them repeatedly in ice-cold water was a daunting task. One trick was to use a heated rock from the fireplace and dunk it in a bucket to warm the water, but even then, nobody wanted to do it repeatedly. Thus, sharing utensils was a common practice. However...
Don’t think about it-
But this is the same bowl...
Don’t think about it-
And this is the same spoon...
Lansius gulped. For better or worse, he hadn’t gotten close to a woman of his age for two years. But now, he was practically inseparable from Stefi. They marched, ate, and slept next to each other every day.
The younger but experienced Stefi had taught Lansius the basics - what to wear, what to eat, and how to prepare a tent. Inadvertently, they shared some intimacy during the journey. Once, cleaning and washing resulted in a spontaneous dip in the stream; another time, two straight days of steady drizzle meant they had to sleep half-naked in the tent. Stefi wasn’t aware, but Lansius treasured those memories with vivid recollection.
In Stefi’s eyes, except for some lecherous slipped-ups, Lansius had carried himself exceptionally well. Her mentor had warned her that all men would peep given the chance, but Lansius showed some restraint. Her intuition about Lansius proved correct; he was trustworthy, which made her grateful. What started as a lame job to babysit a scribe turned out to be a pleasant experience.
The two were quite a match, like a mentor and student duo. Their closeness made people tease them repeatedly as a couple. It didn’t come as a surprise, considering the two were single and socially compatible.
While a bit brash and unladylike, Squire Stefi had her charms, honesty, and resourcefulness. Meanwhile, Lansius was educated and had been recruited by the young Lord.
A pat on Lansius’ shoulder alerted him.
“Time for some sparring,” Stefi said.
“Right.” Lansius followed her with a borrowed sword. The owner let anyone to use it for training. The blade was old and dull. As Lansius unsheathed it, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt so light, unlike what he had imagined.
“Show me your middle guard,” Stefi said while preparing her own stance.
Lansius gripped the handle and pointed his sword at shoulder height. He had learned where to put the thumb and not to death grip.
“Alright, parry mid, low, and high. En-garde!” With a swift motion, Stefi thrust her sword toward Lansius’ torso. It came like a blur, but Lansius parried it sideways. Stefi continued with a low slash. Lansius took a step back and defended his limb with a block.
Stefi wasn’t done and directed her sword upward. Lansius knew the routine, but instinct made him to dodge backward. He felt it was more natural. However, she followed up with a swing that stopped inches from Lansius’ neck.
“You need to parry it,” she warned him before pulling out her sword.
“My bad,” he exclaimed. “But it feels natural.”
Stefi didn’t bother with his rant. “Again.”
They resumed their stance. Repetition built muscle memory, and gradually there was less hesitation in Lansius’ moves.
Stefi had worked tirelessly to teach him the correct way. At first, he had been clumsy and had some misconceptions about swordsmanship, but now he was starting to get the basics right.
The two weren't the only ones practicing. Breakfast had ended, and more people were exercising. Many young first-timers practiced with their spears, but Stefi felt that more spear training would be useless for Lansius. Since there were no words about Lansius' appointment, Stefi, as a squire, fell back on things she knew best, which was sword training. She thought that teaching him some sword combat would be useful.
Around midday, the barn turned into a chaotic work group. Some people searched for cracks in the walls to patch up, while others tended to the horses and mules. A few went outside, braving against ankle deep snow to relieve themselves in the adjacent hut.
When the sun was at its highest, everyone paused to bask in its warmth. Unfortunately, lunch wasn’t very appetizing. The bread from this morning was blackened and soggy.
Lansius sat with his back against the wall, trying to munch the tasteless bread. A slice of ham, cheese, or pickles would have been a welcome addition, but those were reserved for the nobles.
“Still having trouble with the bread?” Stefi asked.
He groaned, “It’s mushy and tastes horrible.”
She chuckled. “Just be grateful it’s still white. When things get hard, they use cheap grains, the ones they used to feed the mules.”
In shock, he asked, “How does that thing taste?”
“Horsebread? They’re gross, smell and taste like dirt.”
Lansius’ terrified face made Stefi giggle.
“Finish your bread and do some riding while there’s still light,” she said and rose up.
Lansius followed and spent an hour riding slowly around the tight enclosure. Far from riding on his own, Stefi was the one pulling the horse’s reins on foot. She taught him how to sit correctly on the saddle and what not to do when riding.
Despite just sitting on the saddle, it was tiring for someone who wasn’t accustomed to the rocking motion. It wasn’t as easy as he had imagined, and the horse’s smell was giving him a hard time. “Are you sure the saddle is alright?”
“Well, maybe it could have better paddings, but...” she shook her head.
Lansius understood the reason. Maintaining her gear alone was costly; boots needed new soles, coats needed mending, and horses needed fodder, to name a few. It was lucky that her old master used good bridles that still worked despite years of usage.
“Well, don’t mind my ramblings. I’m already grateful that you teach me how to ride.”
She chuckled. “Give thanks to horsie. She’s the one who carried you around.”
The horse neighed as if she understood.
…
As the sun began to set in the west, the temperature dropped, and people begrudgingly donned coats and blankets. Despite daily exercise or handling animals, they rarely bathed, only doing so when absolutely necessary.
Lansius too adopted this practice to some degree, finding the hassle of bathing not worth the effort. When he did wash up, he used a bucket of warm water, a clean cloth, and firewood ash as soap.
Cleanliness was appreciated but difficult to achieve, thus it was common to find cases of rashes and other skin disorders. Clothing was the only thing preventing an outbreak of body odor and putrid smells, as the many layers of fabric kept the unpleasant odors inside.
As someone with a sensitive nose, Lansius avoided unpleasant smells when possible, but his introversion made him reluctant to say anything about his group. Eventually, Stefi noticed and moved together to a group that stank less.
The new group eventually found out about Lansius’ hair. Despite his attempt to always cover it up with a hood or traveling cloak, he couldn’t hide them forever. Unlike what he had feared, nobody behaved differently. The men were interested in his foreign background, but largely unconcerned. Only then Lansius felt truly welcomed.
The cold season seemed endless, and people passed the time with chatting, playing dice, and preparing meals. When the sun went down, the barn grew quiet except for the bubbling of the cauldron and the crackling of the fire.
Despite the monotonous routine, people did their best to entertain themselves with music, storytelling, or gossip. As a foreigner, Lansius often found himself at the center of attention, but he was cautious about revealing his origin, and only offered vague answers about his birthplace.
The monotony persisted for three weeks without any significant changes. During this time, some of the youngsters made progress in spear and sword handling, while others improved their reading abilities or learned other soft skills such as cooking. However, Lansius did not make much progress in sword training beyond the basics. Instead, he focused on learning to write cursive using a waxed stylus he carried. The lieutenant tutored him for free, thinking that Lansius had potential and would go places.
One day, four men arrived and gathered the captain and lieutenant from Lansius’ shelter. Rumors of an impending attack spread like wildfire.
The weather had calmed down, and the snow was only ankle-deep. When the captains and lieutenants returned, they confirmed the rumors. “Pack your gear. We’re going out tomorrow at dawn.
The shelter sprang to life as preparations for the journey began.
“It finally happen,” Stefi said to Lansius, who could only nod with a sense of uneasiness.
***
A new day dawned in Ceresia, with a drop in temperature and a fierce wind. The barn doors, which were usually closed, stood wide open, and lanterns and torches illuminated the inside. Dozens of men dressed in their winter gear were ready for departure.
Similar scenes were taking place in neighboring towns and villages. After being cooped up in their shelters for over a month, the Arvena troops were finally returning to march.
As Squire and Scribe apprentice, the young Lord assigned Stefi and Lansius to stay behind and take charge of the supplies. It wasn’t surprising. They needed someone to guard the supplies and record them.
“Hope they win,” Stefi murmured as the army received their order to march out. “Otherwise, we’ll have to defend this place with only remnants and leftovers.”
“How big is the opponent’s army?” Lansius asked.
“Interested in war, are you?” Stefi quipped.
“Not much, just trying new vocabulary,” he avoided the question, fearing that Stefi might use it as an excuse to train him harder.
“Well… hard to know. But ours should be bigger. I say two-thousand versus a few hundred?” Stefi shrugged.
That’s good odds.
“Ah, so it’s likely we’ll win,” he said, more to himself.
Stefi shook her head. “Lans, nothing is certain in a war. Securing the river crossing won’t be easy.”
Lansius had heard that the river between Ceresia and Riverstead was wide and had strong currents. There was only one narrow bridge which was often damaged by flood. The forces who occupied Riverstead surely understood this bridge’s importance and put efforts to defend it.
Looks like it's going to be a messy battle... Unless... if the river is frozen.
He considered the possibility that if the river was frozen, the Arvenians could split their forces, cross the river, and attempt a pincer attack. However, he realized that he knew nothing about the Lord of Arvena's personality and whether he would gamble on such a risky maneuver.
"Stefi," he called as he approached and whispered, "Is the Lord of Arvena, bold?"
Stefi furrowed her brows, turned to face him, and met his gaze. "Lans, we're campaigning in the middle of winter. If that's not bold, then I don't know what is."
Lansius felt foolish for asking. "Oh, right, of course."
Stefi crossed her arms in a relaxed way. "What's on your mind?"
"Oh, I'm just thinking, if the river is frozen, then-"
"Then it's going to be easy win at the crossing?" Stefi guessed.
Lansius nodded. "Yeah, something like that."
"Well, you're into something. If it's frozen then it's only a matter of sending our strongest detachment to cross and attack their camp. However," Stefi continued, "it's not that simple. The river is wide, and it rarely freezes entirely. Have you ever walked on thin ice before?"
Lansius shook his head.
"Well, you never want to cross it in armor, and definitely not with a group of armored men," Stefi cautioned.
"I see, so it's possible-"
"But dangerous," Stefi completed the sentence. "Lastly, if that's the plan then they'll need to move quickly."
"Why's that?" Lansius asked.
"The coldest time was several weeks ago. By now, the river may already be thawing," Stefi said with a sigh.
Lansius now realized that time was running out. With the weather unpredictable and the bridge likely fortified, the Arvenians needed to act fast. The fate of their campaign depended solely on their speed.
Chapter 3
Ceresia
Lansius was suddenly awoken by a chilling gust of wind, causing his body to stiffen and his face to ache from the cold. As he opened his eyes, he found himself huddled around a dimly lit campfire in an old barn. Despite the warmth from the fire, he could see his breath turn into mist.
“It’s still dawn,” whispered Stefi beside him.
Lansius nodded and clutched his rough woolen blanket tighter. Outside, the wind howled and rattled the old barn, making it seem even colder. Despite the thick rags and hay mats they had on the ground, Lansius could feel the cold seeping through.
Only the crackling fire and friendly faces brought some respite. Slowly, but surely, Lansius drifted back to sleep.
The Arvena troops had been marching for several weeks when they encountered rapidly changing weather. Nobody wanted to be stranded in a blizzard, so the Arvenians scrambled to find wintering quarters.
Lansius and his group had found refuge in an abandoned barn in Ceresia village, where they had been stuck for over a month. Yet winter was still at its peak, with frequent snowfall and blizzards.
Today was another cloudy day, with weak sunlight piercing through the gaps in the wood panels. The early risers were already up and about, preparing breakfast. It wasn’t customary for nobility and city folks to eat so early in the morning, but on a campaign, it was a necessity. Morning was one of the few times they could cook in relative peace.
A growling stomach awakened Lansius. The mixture of wine and water he had consumed each night troubled his digestion, but he needed a sip or two to ward off the cold. He almost let out a sigh, but Stefi came into his view.
“You’re awake?” She offered a bowl of stew she had just received from the cook.
“Gratitude.” He took the bowl and took a few sips, grateful for the warmth it provided.
Smells burnt just as usual, but the warmth hits the spot.
Lansius found the stew savory, so he took another spoonful. Meanwhile, Stefi quickly devoured the thick, round bread. They swapped the bowl for the bread and continued their meal.
Stefi didn’t bat an eye when they shared the bowl and spoon; partly because she was raised as a squire, but mainly because of practicality.
Most men carried a wooden plate and spoon, but washing them repeatedly in ice-cold water was a daunting task. One trick was to use a heated rock from the fireplace and dunk it in a bucket to warm the water, but even then, nobody wanted to do it repeatedly. Thus, sharing utensils was a common practice. However...
Don’t think about it-
But this is the same bowl...
Don’t think about it-
And this is the same spoon...
Lansius gulped. For better or worse, he hadn’t gotten close to a woman of his age for two years. But now, he was practically inseparable from Stefi. They marched, ate, and slept next to each other every day.
The younger but experienced Stefi had taught Lansius the basics - what to wear, what to eat, and how to prepare a tent. Inadvertently, they shared some intimacy during the journey. Once, cleaning and washing resulted in a spontaneous dip in the stream; another time, two straight days of steady drizzle meant they had to sleep half-naked in the tent. Stefi wasn’t aware, but Lansius treasured those memories with vivid recollection.
In Stefi’s eyes, except for some lecherous slipped-ups, Lansius had carried himself exceptionally well. Her mentor had warned her that all men would peep given the chance, but Lansius showed some restraint. Her intuition about Lansius proved correct; he was trustworthy, which made her grateful. What started as a lame job to babysit a scribe turned out to be a pleasant experience.
The two were quite a match, like a mentor and student duo. Their closeness made people tease them repeatedly as a couple. It didn’t come as a surprise, considering the two were single and socially compatible.
While a bit brash and unladylike, Squire Stefi had her charms, honesty, and resourcefulness. Meanwhile, Lansius was educated and had been recruited by the young Lord.
A pat on Lansius’ shoulder alerted him.
“Time for some sparring,” Stefi said.
“Right.” Lansius followed her with a borrowed sword. The owner let anyone to use it for training. The blade was old and dull. As Lansius unsheathed it, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt so light, unlike what he had imagined.
“Show me your middle guard,” Stefi said while preparing her own stance.
Lansius gripped the handle and pointed his sword at shoulder height. He had learned where to put the thumb and not to death grip.
“Alright, parry mid, low, and high. En-garde!” With a swift motion, Stefi thrust her sword toward Lansius’ torso. It came like a blur, but Lansius parried it sideways. Stefi continued with a low slash. Lansius took a step back and defended his limb with a block.
Stefi wasn’t done and directed her sword upward. Lansius knew the routine, but instinct made him to dodge backward. He felt it was more natural. However, she followed up with a swing that stopped inches from Lansius’ neck.
“You need to parry it,” she warned him before pulling out her sword.
“My bad,” he exclaimed. “But it feels natural.”
Stefi didn’t bother with his rant. “Again.”
They resumed their stance. Repetition built muscle memory, and gradually there was less hesitation in Lansius’ moves.
Stefi had worked tirelessly to teach him the correct way. At first, he had been clumsy and had some misconceptions about swordsmanship, but now he was starting to get the basics right.
The two weren't the only ones practicing. Breakfast had ended, and more people were exercising. Many young first-timers practiced with their spears, but Stefi felt that more spear training would be useless for Lansius. Since there were no words about Lansius' appointment, Stefi, as a squire, fell back on things she knew best, which was sword training. She thought that teaching him some sword combat would be useful.
Around midday, the barn turned into a chaotic work group. Some people searched for cracks in the walls to patch up, while others tended to the horses and mules. A few went outside, braving against ankle deep snow to relieve themselves in the adjacent hut.
When the sun was at its highest, everyone paused to bask in its warmth. Unfortunately, lunch wasn’t very appetizing. The bread from this morning was blackened and soggy.
Lansius sat with his back against the wall, trying to munch the tasteless bread. A slice of ham, cheese, or pickles would have been a welcome addition, but those were reserved for the nobles.
“Still having trouble with the bread?” Stefi asked.
He groaned, “It’s mushy and tastes horrible.”
She chuckled. “Just be grateful it’s still white. When things get hard, they use cheap grains, the ones they used to feed the mules.”
In shock, he asked, “How does that thing taste?”
“Horsebread? They’re gross, smell and taste like dirt.”
Lansius’ terrified face made Stefi giggle.
“Finish your bread and do some riding while there’s still light,” she said and rose up.
Lansius followed and spent an hour riding slowly around the tight enclosure. Far from riding on his own, Stefi was the one pulling the horse’s reins on foot. She taught him how to sit correctly on the saddle and what not to do when riding.
Despite just sitting on the saddle, it was tiring for someone who wasn’t accustomed to the rocking motion. It wasn’t as easy as he had imagined, and the horse’s smell was giving him a hard time. “Are you sure the saddle is alright?”
“Well, maybe it could have better paddings, but...” she shook her head.
Lansius understood the reason. Maintaining her gear alone was costly; boots needed new soles, coats needed mending, and horses needed fodder, to name a few. It was lucky that her old master used good bridles that still worked despite years of usage.
“Well, don’t mind my ramblings. I’m already grateful that you teach me how to ride.”
She chuckled. “Give thanks to horsie. She’s the one who carried you around.”
The horse neighed as if she understood.
…
As the sun began to set in the west, the temperature dropped, and people begrudgingly donned coats and blankets. Despite daily exercise or handling animals, they rarely bathed, only doing so when absolutely necessary.
Lansius too adopted this practice to some degree, finding the hassle of bathing not worth the effort. When he did wash up, he used a bucket of warm water, a clean cloth, and firewood ash as soap.
Cleanliness was appreciated but difficult to achieve, thus it was common to find cases of rashes and other skin disorders. Clothing was the only thing preventing an outbreak of body odor and putrid smells, as the many layers of fabric kept the unpleasant odors inside.
As someone with a sensitive nose, Lansius avoided unpleasant smells when possible, but his introversion made him reluctant to say anything about his group. Eventually, Stefi noticed and moved together to a group that stank less.
The new group eventually found out about Lansius’ hair. Despite his attempt to always cover it up with a hood or traveling cloak, he couldn’t hide them forever. Unlike what he had feared, nobody behaved differently. The men were interested in his foreign background, but largely unconcerned. Only then Lansius felt truly welcomed.
The cold season seemed endless, and people passed the time with chatting, playing dice, and preparing meals. When the sun went down, the barn grew quiet except for the bubbling of the cauldron and the crackling of the fire.
Despite the monotonous routine, people did their best to entertain themselves with music, storytelling, or gossip. As a foreigner, Lansius often found himself at the center of attention, but he was cautious about revealing his origin, and only offered vague answers about his birthplace.
The monotony persisted for three weeks without any significant changes. During this time, some of the youngsters made progress in spear and sword handling, while others improved their reading abilities or learned other soft skills such as cooking. However, Lansius did not make much progress in sword training beyond the basics. Instead, he focused on learning to write cursive using a waxed stylus he carried. The lieutenant tutored him for free, thinking that Lansius had potential and would go places.
One day, four men arrived and gathered the captain and lieutenant from Lansius’ shelter. Rumors of an impending attack spread like wildfire.
The weather had calmed down, and the snow was only ankle-deep. When the captains and lieutenants returned, they confirmed the rumors. “Pack your gear. We’re going out tomorrow at dawn.
The shelter sprang to life as preparations for the journey began.
“It finally happen,” Stefi said to Lansius, who could only nod with a sense of uneasiness.
***
A new day dawned in Ceresia, with a drop in temperature and a fierce wind. The barn doors, which were usually closed, stood wide open, and lanterns and torches illuminated the inside. Dozens of men dressed in their winter gear were ready for departure.
Similar scenes were taking place in neighboring towns and villages. After being cooped up in their shelters for over a month, the Arvena troops were finally returning to march.
As Squire and Scribe apprentice, the young Lord assigned Stefi and Lansius to stay behind and take charge of the supplies. It wasn’t surprising. They needed someone to guard the supplies and record them.
“Hope they win,” Stefi murmured as the army received their order to march out. “Otherwise, we’ll have to defend this place with only remnants and leftovers.”
“How big is the opponent’s army?” Lansius asked.
“Interested in war, are you?” Stefi quipped.
“Not much, just trying new vocabulary,” he avoided the question, fearing that Stefi might use it as an excuse to train him harder.
“Well… hard to know. But ours should be bigger. I say two-thousand versus a few hundred?” Stefi shrugged.
That’s good odds.
“Ah, so it’s likely we’ll win,” he said, more to himself.
Stefi shook her head. “Lans, nothing is certain in a war. Securing the river crossing won’t be easy.”
Lansius had heard that the river between Ceresia and Riverstead was wide and had strong currents. There was only one narrow bridge which was often damaged by flood. The forces who occupied Riverstead surely understood this bridge’s importance and put efforts to defend it.
Looks like it's going to be a messy battle... Unless... if the river is frozen.
He considered the possibility that if the river was frozen, the Arvenians could split their forces, cross the river, and attempt a pincer attack. However, he realized that he knew nothing about the Lord of Arvena's personality and whether he would gamble on such a risky maneuver.
"Stefi," he called as he approached and whispered, "Is the Lord of Arvena, bold?"
Stefi furrowed her brows, turned to face him, and met his gaze. "Lans, we're campaigning in the middle of winter. If that's not bold, then I don't know what is."
Lansius felt foolish for asking. "Oh, right, of course."
Stefi crossed her arms in a relaxed way. "What's on your mind?"
"Oh, I'm just thinking, if the river is frozen, then-"
"Then it's going to be easy win at the crossing?" Stefi guessed.
Lansius nodded. "Yeah, something like that."
"Well, you're into something. If it's frozen then it's only a matter of sending our strongest detachment to cross and attack their camp. However," Stefi continued, "it's not that simple. The river is wide, and it rarely freezes entirely. Have you ever walked on thin ice before?"
Lansius shook his head.
"Well, you never want to cross it in armor, and definitely not with a group of armored men," Stefi cautioned.
"I see, so it's possible-"
"But dangerous," Stefi completed the sentence. "Lastly, if that's the plan then they'll need to move quickly."
"Why's that?" Lansius asked.
"The coldest time was several weeks ago. By now, the river may already be thawing," Stefi said with a sigh.
Lansius now realized that time was running out. With the weather unpredictable and the bridge likely fortified, the Arvenians needed to act fast. The fate of their campaign depended solely on their speed.
