Chapter 82
Tarracan Man
The day had yet to grow hot when a formation of men assembled just outside Korelia. Lord Jorge led the formation, flanked by a modest number of cavalry. The horses had been either ransomed or loaned from Korelia, all backed by Lord Jorge’s guarantee.
Lord Robert was also present, leading his smaller cavalry at some distance. The sight was impressive if not grand. The last time these forces had assembled here, they had been enemies. Now, they were allies.
“My Lords, the success of our grand plan rests with your return in spring,” Lansius said as they met in front of their armies.
“I shall return,” Robert declared firmly. “Even if I have to drag my wife with me, I will be back next spring.”
“Same as the Lion. I’ll bring my family here—no dragging necessary,” Jorge added, matching Robert’s enthusiasm.
Both chuckled at their shared jest.
“I’ll arrange for the city inns to accommodate your families,” Lansius offered, grateful for their support. “I’ll even look into renovating the castle and the Eastern Mansion in case the inns aren’t sufficient.”
Robert nodded, pleased with the offered hospitality. “Lord Lansius, I don’t have anyone to spare but a few knights, but you may take Sir Michael and his men under your command.”
“Gratitude, for your support,” replied Lansius.
“Well, then,” Robert said, addressing the two younger men. “Until we meet again next year. May fortune favor you both.”
“And may good health and fortune accompany you as well, Lord Robert,” Lansius returned.
“Stay strong, Old Lion. This alliance needs to happen,” urged Jorge.
“Aye, I have no plans to die just yet. In fact, I feel rejuvenated,” the older lord quipped, delighting the other two. He then summoned his escort and mounted his horse. “If Korelia faces trouble, send word to White Lake. I’ll organize a relief somehow.”
“Your concern is much appreciated, Lord Robert.” Lansius bowed his head a little.
Without another word, Robert and his cavalry rode towards Korelia City, intending to pass through its main streets, cross the bridge, and move through the developing eastern region before heading east toward their own territory.
“I should make haste,” Jorge told Lansius.
“Indeed, the sun grows hotter.”
Jorge signaled his squire, who in turn called the coachman. The carriage, a gift promised by Lansius, approached.
“Lord Lansius, I’ll hold up my end of the bargain for Umberland. And remember, you can count on Three Hills if you ever need a place for refuge.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Lansius assured him.
Jorge entered the carriage, and his entourage assumed their positions. “Please send my regards to the Baroness of Korimor,” he said with a polite smile. The carriage then departed, and Jorge rejoined his army, marching westward through the Great Plains.
The Three Hill forces had recovered many of their men by staying in Korelia and flying their banner high. A large number of captured men from Three Hills had also been freed, although their weapons and armor were confiscated.
Evading capture, more than a dozen knights and squires from South Hill bent the knee to Lord Jorge, bolstering his ranks. Now, at least a thousand men marched under his banner.
While the number was substantial, unfortunately, only two dozen had their horses, and Jorge needed them as escorts. Meanwhile, Lansius required speed and couldn’t afford to take slow-moving footmen with him to Korimor, especially with the harvest season closing in fast. Thus, despite the potential aid available, Lansius couldn’t utilize it.
The sky had clouded over when Lansius and his escorts returned to the castle to finalize their preparations.
...
As the sky began its vibrant descent into hues of orange and pink, Lansius stood at the edge of the castle battlements, his eyes set upon the vast expanse of the Great Plains of Lowlandia. The wind blew in from the west due to the sudden temperature change, but he remained quiet, his mind focused on the impending journey and battle that lay ahead.
Beside him, his wife Audrey leaned against the stone wall, her gaze firmly fixed on the fading beauty of the sun.
“That’s our guide,” she commented, just before the guards on the lookout made a small commotion while pointing to the west.
Lansius didn’t respond but watched as ten horsemen leading fifty horses approached Korelia. Tapping the stone wall and feeling its sturdiness despite its age, Lansius drew a deep breath. “Shall we go then?” he asked her, offering his arm.
Audrey smiled, took his arm, and squeezed it gently. The two descended, and their staff flocked toward them. Solemnity, fear, and nervousness were evident on their faces, but Lansius stood firm and unburdened.
“If only you would let me ride in a carriage to Korimor,” said Felis to Lansius.
Lansius smiled. "Unfortunately, haste is necessary this time. Please take care, Lady Felis."
She nodded, then whispered, "Be good to your wife, or I'll send Hannei to ruin your life."
Lansius coughed at the unexpected threat, while Audrey sported a nervous smirk.
Next, Lansius met with Sir Justin and Calub. "I’ll send word when I’m able, and we'll reconvene in the fall or spring."
"I'll also send reports periodically, but be warned—I've never commanded a city before," said the Marshal.
"Governed," corrected Calub, and the three chuckled. One by one, they clasped hands, offering Lansius good wishes and some advice for the journey ahead. Similarly, Felis and Cecile hugged Audrey as if they were sisters. This concluded their farewells to the staff.
Outside, the city's people flocked to catch a glimpse of the stars of Korelia. As the sun waned, so too did Korelia lose a part of its brilliance, as its twin stars prepare to embark on a perilous journey.
Accompanied by Dietrich, Sigmund, and Carla, along with just thirty cavalrymen and squires, Lord Lansius departed from Korelia. To cover the greatest distance, they chose to travel at night, hoping to cover double the distance without fear of the summer sun.
They were prepared to eat lightly and sleep at noon. With only the supplies and gear in their saddlebags, they followed their guide and rode northwest.
Each rider brought five spare horses and rotated them periodically to maintain the horses’ stamina for the marathon run.
The lanterns the guides carried would be their guidance, and the stars in the sky their only illumination.
***
Nicopolan Armed Group
Sergio the Tarracan visited the tent where he had secured a cage from a slaver compound he had pillaged. Inside the small cage sat a lady in grey, ragged clothes—a disguise. As Sergio entered, she opened her eyes, giving him a look that seemed both to judge him and remonstrate against his presence.
This woman had nearly incited fighting among the Nicopolan group Sergio had brought from Nicopola. Fortunately, one of Sergio’s lieutenants caught wind of her schemes.
“Lady Daniella,” Sergio addressed her while she stared at him. “You’ll be pleased to know that the group you’ve been talking to are rotting in the sun as we speak. A human body can only endure so much.”
“It’s a shame, but many more will take their place. Next time, we won’t be caught,” Daniella replied fearlessly, despite clearly being parched. She had been given only a bowl of watered-down gruel once a day.
Sergio chuckled at her audacity and knelt. “I’ve heard you haven’t begged for food, but I think in a few days, you will...” His words trailed off as he rose with a smile.
As he was about to leave, she warned him, “Your plan will not work. You’ll only lead everyone to their deaths.”
Sergio turned around and mocked her. “Foolish woman! I have led them through the raging South Nicopola, across the steep mountain paths of Umberland, and into this fertile land, all the while ensuring everyone had enough to eat. Who else can do that?”
“Obviously, any brigand with an army of hungry men could. You simply took food away from towns and villages along your path and left them with nothing to eat. What’s so surprising about that?”
“High words from mercenaries like you!” He raised his voice. “I challenge any man or woman, nobles even, to do better than me. But where are they?” he asked with open arms. “None are here. Why? A noble wouldn’t waste time on thousands of hungry peasants, just like your new lord. He’ll bide his time until we move on. But we won’t!”
“You don’t even understand the logistics of feeding this many people. Your faith is misplaced; there’s not enough food in Korimor even if you harvest everything,” she retorted.
“You’ll learn that I’m not only as competent but also more benevolent than any noble. In time, you’ll come to respect my authority over these Nicopolans and even try to convince your friends in that castle to leave the city.”
Daniella offered no response, and Sergio left in frustration.
He was barely ten feet from the tent when his men approached him. One whispered, “Sergio, it’s getting harder to raid for food. By tomorrow, we’ll have nothing for the refugees.”
“Mix some grey meat with horse meat for tomorrow’s soup, but do it out of sight,” Sergio replied. He needed the refugees to pressure the city into surrendering.
“But what about us?” another asked. “We haven’t had bread for days, just watery gruel. Can't we take more from the stockpile?”
“Patience, men,” Sergio said, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Haven’t you smelled the sweet fragrance of the bakery from the city in the morning? We shall have them soon enough.”
Sergio noticed the doubt lingering on his men’s faces, so he added, “Kill the thought that there’s a better solution. Korimor is our best bet. Three Hills will be well-defended. Korelia and South Hill are too distant, and they don’t have a good harvest.”
His men began to nod.
“Let’s stick to the plan and hold for another month so we can let the refugees harvest the farm for us. I’m sure whoever is inside won’t be able to hold out much longer, especially once they see us harvesting. Then we can move in, secure the city and the castle for the winter, and assume our roles as overlords. Don’t you want to become a squire or a knight?”
Sergio’s words began to inspire his men.
“Don’t you want a land of your own and laborers to call you master? I can give you all of that if you have the courage to hold out. Things will improve after the harvest.” As usual, Sergio’s charisma and persuasion won them over.
Sergio had always dreamed of joining a mercenary company. Unable to join due to multiple rejections based on his background, he aimed to start his own company instead and succeeded amidst the outbreak of the Nicopolan crisis. While for many these were times of great sadness and tragedy, for Sergio it was a time of opportunity.
Korimor would be the crowning jewel of his achievements. Convinced that all he needed was to wait for the harvest season, he was sure the crops from the fields around Korimor would be enough for his men. When that time came, the city would probably give up, since they couldn’t last without the harvest.
When that happened, Sergio would offer them a fair deal, something he would stick to until enough of his men and refugees had entered the town. While he had no qualms with the Korimors, he had to reduce the number of mouths to feed, and he chose his own followers.
Sergio planned to push the Korimors to attack another barony for food and shelter. Even if it failed, it wouldn’t matter to him. Moreover, it would even assert his power as Lowlandia’s newest powerhouse.
***
Michael
After finishing with his administrative duties, the one-eyed knight sat on the battlement. Despite the heat, he insisted on sitting there, a wicker hat his only protection against the sun. He was there to signal his small reaction force should he spot any signs of an escape attempt by Daniella and her group.
Michael kept blaming himself for letting her to infiltrate the Nicopolans with just a handful of her men. Now she was captured, and he had no means of rescuing her.
The enemy was more cunning and able than they appeared. The Nicopolans held their ground despite several harassing attacks from Hugo and Michael’s cavalry. The Nicopolan strategy relied on concealing their troops behind refugees and using the elderly and children to impede any attacks on their formation.
The Korelian small cavalry was both exhausted and horrified, forced to trample and kill innocents before even engaging the enemy’s main force. Worse, by now they couldn’t risk another attack, as the Nicopolan numbers had swelled. Initially numbering three thousand, their ranks had grown to an estimated six or seven thousand.
Now, their cavalry, bolstered by the nomads, was sufficient only to deter the Nicopolans from attacking the rest of the nearby settlements, which had become an increasingly reliable source of food and medicine.
“The odds are not looking good at all,” he mumbled to himself.
Today the sun was almost set, and things seemed eerily peaceful. There was no turmoil in the enemy camp, no ruckus, meaning no escape attempt from Daniella.
Michael sighed. It had been a week since her capture. He knew Daniella was alive; the enemy kept pestering them for a meeting. A meeting they couldn’t entertain, for the Nicopolan demands required the Korelian forces to abandon the city.
Such demands filled the Korimor people with suspicion. Even inside the city walls, the situation remained precarious.
Food rationing had soured everyone's mood. The populace was lethargic, anxious about the fate of their harvest, now in the hands of the Nicopolans. Harvest time was just a month away, and if plundered, many would perish in the upcoming winter.
As a precaution against internal strife, Hugo and Michael had barricaded many entrances to the castle, leaving only the main one open. They prepared for the possibility of fighting enemies from without and within and had stockpiled all their supplies within the castle.
Michael knew that despite their surrender, the Korimor people had little trust in them. The only thing binding them together now was a common enemy and the belief that the Korelians were the lesser of two evils.
Fortunately, both sides feared the nomads who still roamed freely outside, leading to a stalemate. The Nicopolans couldn’t lay siege, fearing a rear attack by the nomads if they committed.
The Korimor people, along with the Korelian force, were trapped inside, unable to face the massive force outside. Meanwhile, the nomads, mainly comprised of children and the elderly, could do little but keep their distance.
The rhythmic footsteps on the stones prompted Michael to turn his head.
“Anything new, Sir Michael?” inquired Hugo, the Deputy.
"Only several public floggings over something. Couldn't make out the details; too distant," Michael replied.
“I see...” Hugo remarked, gazing into the distance at the enemy’s camp. “Should we send a scout to investigate?”
“Already done. They’ll be back after dark, though I doubt they’ll learn anything useful.”
Hugo nodded and commented, "These Nicopolans... It’s remarkable how they manage to maintain order with so many untrained people.”
“Their trust to that Tarracan Man is enviable," Michael mused.
"The one who feeds his followers with bread as sweet as nectar and honey," Hugo recited, echoing stories from captured men from earlier skirmishes. "Sir Michael, what is your take on such a man?"
"If that is true, then he is indeed a living legend and ought to be enshrined. Perhaps it would be best to confine him in a tower so he can continue producing that remarkable bread in peace, ensuring all of Lowlandia does not go hungry this winter."
Michael's jest elicited a chuckle from Hugo, though it too quickly faded. The atmosphere was too sour, too heavy, even for veterans like him.
As Hugo’s gaze returned to the sweeping plains, Michael stood. "It's time to rotate the cavalry."
“Take a drink or two and some rest. I’ll keep an eye out for Lady Daniella," offered Hugo.
“Gratitude, Deputy.”
“No need, I share the blame for allowing her...” Hints of bitterness apparent in Hugo's voice.
Taking a deep breath, Michael headed toward the gatehouse, where he found cool shade and a squire who readily offered him a drink. He was about to descend the circular stone stairwell when Hugo's shout from the battlements halted him.
The one-eyed knight hurried back and saw Hugo pointing southward. Others hastened to the battlements for a better view.
Michael followed Hugo's gaze and beheld a towering cloud of dust rising from the south. "From the south?" he whispered to himself, more a statement than a question. An experienced cavalryman from White Lake, like him, knew such a cloud was raised by hundreds, perhaps thousands of horsemen.
The swirling dust continued to obscure the finer details, yet the vastness of the disturbance unmistakably heralded the coming of a massive cavalry force.
Excitement rippled through the ranks as men beckoned their comrades to witness the sight. Along Korimor’s southern wall, eyes were fixed on the emerging spectacle.
“Look, our nomads have noticed and are reacting,” a squire blurted out excitedly.
The advancing force appeared as a mirage beneath the blazing sun.
Michael continued to ponder. He had no clue who in Lowlandia could muster such power, or why were they in Korimor at this time. Meanwhile, among the Korelians, speculation pointed to one name alone.
"It’s only been ten days since I sent the letter. This is impossible," Hugo said, shaking his head.
Michael shared his skepticism, but as if to mock their doubts, the unmistakable blue and bronze banner appeared proudly on the horizon. Its bold and striking colors finally cut through the dust clouds as the galloping horsemen trod upon the green pasture of Korimor.
“The Lord’s personal banner!” erupted from many throats at once.
Confirming it with his own eye, Michael clenched his fist, pounding the wall in a burst of excitement. Meanwhile, Hugo and his men shouted war cries, jubilant beyond measure.
Almost instantaneously, the news spread like wildfire, galvanizing every member of the Korelian force and drawing the gaze of all within the city.
Initially, people thought the Korelians had gone mad, but soon the excitement spread like wildfire. Before long, everyone in Korimor heard of what was happening outside the walls. Faster than anyone could have predicted and ever unpredictable, the Lord of Korelia had arrived.
***
Hanne
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Chapter 82
Tarracan Man
The day had yet to grow hot when a formation of men assembled just outside Korelia. Lord Jorge led the formation, flanked by a modest number of cavalry. The horses had been either ransomed or loaned from Korelia, all backed by Lord Jorge’s guarantee.
Lord Robert was also present, leading his smaller cavalry at some distance. The sight was impressive if not grand. The last time these forces had assembled here, they had been enemies. Now, they were allies.
“My Lords, the success of our grand plan rests with your return in spring,” Lansius said as they met in front of their armies.
“I shall return,” Robert declared firmly. “Even if I have to drag my wife with me, I will be back next spring.”
“Same as the Lion. I’ll bring my family here—no dragging necessary,” Jorge added, matching Robert’s enthusiasm.
Both chuckled at their shared jest.
“I’ll arrange for the city inns to accommodate your families,” Lansius offered, grateful for their support. “I’ll even look into renovating the castle and the Eastern Mansion in case the inns aren’t sufficient.”
Robert nodded, pleased with the offered hospitality. “Lord Lansius, I don’t have anyone to spare but a few knights, but you may take Sir Michael and his men under your command.”
“Gratitude, for your support,” replied Lansius.
“Well, then,” Robert said, addressing the two younger men. “Until we meet again next year. May fortune favor you both.”
“And may good health and fortune accompany you as well, Lord Robert,” Lansius returned.
“Stay strong, Old Lion. This alliance needs to happen,” urged Jorge.
“Aye, I have no plans to die just yet. In fact, I feel rejuvenated,” the older lord quipped, delighting the other two. He then summoned his escort and mounted his horse. “If Korelia faces trouble, send word to White Lake. I’ll organize a relief somehow.”
“Your concern is much appreciated, Lord Robert.” Lansius bowed his head a little.
Without another word, Robert and his cavalry rode towards Korelia City, intending to pass through its main streets, cross the bridge, and move through the developing eastern region before heading east toward their own territory.
“I should make haste,” Jorge told Lansius.
“Indeed, the sun grows hotter.”
Jorge signaled his squire, who in turn called the coachman. The carriage, a gift promised by Lansius, approached.
“Lord Lansius, I’ll hold up my end of the bargain for Umberland. And remember, you can count on Three Hills if you ever need a place for refuge.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Lansius assured him.
Jorge entered the carriage, and his entourage assumed their positions. “Please send my regards to the Baroness of Korimor,” he said with a polite smile. The carriage then departed, and Jorge rejoined his army, marching westward through the Great Plains.
The Three Hill forces had recovered many of their men by staying in Korelia and flying their banner high. A large number of captured men from Three Hills had also been freed, although their weapons and armor were confiscated.
Evading capture, more than a dozen knights and squires from South Hill bent the knee to Lord Jorge, bolstering his ranks. Now, at least a thousand men marched under his banner.
While the number was substantial, unfortunately, only two dozen had their horses, and Jorge needed them as escorts. Meanwhile, Lansius required speed and couldn’t afford to take slow-moving footmen with him to Korimor, especially with the harvest season closing in fast. Thus, despite the potential aid available, Lansius couldn’t utilize it.
The sky had clouded over when Lansius and his escorts returned to the castle to finalize their preparations.
...
As the sky began its vibrant descent into hues of orange and pink, Lansius stood at the edge of the castle battlements, his eyes set upon the vast expanse of the Great Plains of Lowlandia. The wind blew in from the west due to the sudden temperature change, but he remained quiet, his mind focused on the impending journey and battle that lay ahead.
Beside him, his wife Audrey leaned against the stone wall, her gaze firmly fixed on the fading beauty of the sun.
“That’s our guide,” she commented, just before the guards on the lookout made a small commotion while pointing to the west.
Lansius didn’t respond but watched as ten horsemen leading fifty horses approached Korelia. Tapping the stone wall and feeling its sturdiness despite its age, Lansius drew a deep breath. “Shall we go then?” he asked her, offering his arm.
Audrey smiled, took his arm, and squeezed it gently. The two descended, and their staff flocked toward them. Solemnity, fear, and nervousness were evident on their faces, but Lansius stood firm and unburdened.
“If only you would let me ride in a carriage to Korimor,” said Felis to Lansius.
Lansius smiled. "Unfortunately, haste is necessary this time. Please take care, Lady Felis."
She nodded, then whispered, "Be good to your wife, or I'll send Hannei to ruin your life."
Lansius coughed at the unexpected threat, while Audrey sported a nervous smirk.
Next, Lansius met with Sir Justin and Calub. "I’ll send word when I’m able, and we'll reconvene in the fall or spring."
"I'll also send reports periodically, but be warned—I've never commanded a city before," said the Marshal.
"Governed," corrected Calub, and the three chuckled. One by one, they clasped hands, offering Lansius good wishes and some advice for the journey ahead. Similarly, Felis and Cecile hugged Audrey as if they were sisters. This concluded their farewells to the staff.
Outside, the city's people flocked to catch a glimpse of the stars of Korelia. As the sun waned, so too did Korelia lose a part of its brilliance, as its twin stars prepare to embark on a perilous journey.
Accompanied by Dietrich, Sigmund, and Carla, along with just thirty cavalrymen and squires, Lord Lansius departed from Korelia. To cover the greatest distance, they chose to travel at night, hoping to cover double the distance without fear of the summer sun.
They were prepared to eat lightly and sleep at noon. With only the supplies and gear in their saddlebags, they followed their guide and rode northwest.
Each rider brought five spare horses and rotated them periodically to maintain the horses’ stamina for the marathon run.
The lanterns the guides carried would be their guidance, and the stars in the sky their only illumination.
***
Nicopolan Armed Group
Sergio the Tarracan visited the tent where he had secured a cage from a slaver compound he had pillaged. Inside the small cage sat a lady in grey, ragged clothes—a disguise. As Sergio entered, she opened her eyes, giving him a look that seemed both to judge him and remonstrate against his presence.
This woman had nearly incited fighting among the Nicopolan group Sergio had brought from Nicopola. Fortunately, one of Sergio’s lieutenants caught wind of her schemes.
“Lady Daniella,” Sergio addressed her while she stared at him. “You’ll be pleased to know that the group you’ve been talking to are rotting in the sun as we speak. A human body can only endure so much.”
“It’s a shame, but many more will take their place. Next time, we won’t be caught,” Daniella replied fearlessly, despite clearly being parched. She had been given only a bowl of watered-down gruel once a day.
Sergio chuckled at her audacity and knelt. “I’ve heard you haven’t begged for food, but I think in a few days, you will...” His words trailed off as he rose with a smile.
As he was about to leave, she warned him, “Your plan will not work. You’ll only lead everyone to their deaths.”
Sergio turned around and mocked her. “Foolish woman! I have led them through the raging South Nicopola, across the steep mountain paths of Umberland, and into this fertile land, all the while ensuring everyone had enough to eat. Who else can do that?”
“Obviously, any brigand with an army of hungry men could. You simply took food away from towns and villages along your path and left them with nothing to eat. What’s so surprising about that?”
“High words from mercenaries like you!” He raised his voice. “I challenge any man or woman, nobles even, to do better than me. But where are they?” he asked with open arms. “None are here. Why? A noble wouldn’t waste time on thousands of hungry peasants, just like your new lord. He’ll bide his time until we move on. But we won’t!”
“You don’t even understand the logistics of feeding this many people. Your faith is misplaced; there’s not enough food in Korimor even if you harvest everything,” she retorted.
“You’ll learn that I’m not only as competent but also more benevolent than any noble. In time, you’ll come to respect my authority over these Nicopolans and even try to convince your friends in that castle to leave the city.”
Daniella offered no response, and Sergio left in frustration.
He was barely ten feet from the tent when his men approached him. One whispered, “Sergio, it’s getting harder to raid for food. By tomorrow, we’ll have nothing for the refugees.”
“Mix some grey meat with horse meat for tomorrow’s soup, but do it out of sight,” Sergio replied. He needed the refugees to pressure the city into surrendering.
“But what about us?” another asked. “We haven’t had bread for days, just watery gruel. Can't we take more from the stockpile?”
“Patience, men,” Sergio said, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Haven’t you smelled the sweet fragrance of the bakery from the city in the morning? We shall have them soon enough.”
Sergio noticed the doubt lingering on his men’s faces, so he added, “Kill the thought that there’s a better solution. Korimor is our best bet. Three Hills will be well-defended. Korelia and South Hill are too distant, and they don’t have a good harvest.”
His men began to nod.
“Let’s stick to the plan and hold for another month so we can let the refugees harvest the farm for us. I’m sure whoever is inside won’t be able to hold out much longer, especially once they see us harvesting. Then we can move in, secure the city and the castle for the winter, and assume our roles as overlords. Don’t you want to become a squire or a knight?”
Sergio’s words began to inspire his men.
“Don’t you want a land of your own and laborers to call you master? I can give you all of that if you have the courage to hold out. Things will improve after the harvest.” As usual, Sergio’s charisma and persuasion won them over.
Sergio had always dreamed of joining a mercenary company. Unable to join due to multiple rejections based on his background, he aimed to start his own company instead and succeeded amidst the outbreak of the Nicopolan crisis. While for many these were times of great sadness and tragedy, for Sergio it was a time of opportunity.
Korimor would be the crowning jewel of his achievements. Convinced that all he needed was to wait for the harvest season, he was sure the crops from the fields around Korimor would be enough for his men. When that time came, the city would probably give up, since they couldn’t last without the harvest.
When that happened, Sergio would offer them a fair deal, something he would stick to until enough of his men and refugees had entered the town. While he had no qualms with the Korimors, he had to reduce the number of mouths to feed, and he chose his own followers.
Sergio planned to push the Korimors to attack another barony for food and shelter. Even if it failed, it wouldn’t matter to him. Moreover, it would even assert his power as Lowlandia’s newest powerhouse.
***
Michael
After finishing with his administrative duties, the one-eyed knight sat on the battlement. Despite the heat, he insisted on sitting there, a wicker hat his only protection against the sun. He was there to signal his small reaction force should he spot any signs of an escape attempt by Daniella and her group.
Michael kept blaming himself for letting her to infiltrate the Nicopolans with just a handful of her men. Now she was captured, and he had no means of rescuing her.
The enemy was more cunning and able than they appeared. The Nicopolans held their ground despite several harassing attacks from Hugo and Michael’s cavalry. The Nicopolan strategy relied on concealing their troops behind refugees and using the elderly and children to impede any attacks on their formation.
The Korelian small cavalry was both exhausted and horrified, forced to trample and kill innocents before even engaging the enemy’s main force. Worse, by now they couldn’t risk another attack, as the Nicopolan numbers had swelled. Initially numbering three thousand, their ranks had grown to an estimated six or seven thousand.
Now, their cavalry, bolstered by the nomads, was sufficient only to deter the Nicopolans from attacking the rest of the nearby settlements, which had become an increasingly reliable source of food and medicine.
“The odds are not looking good at all,” he mumbled to himself.
Today the sun was almost set, and things seemed eerily peaceful. There was no turmoil in the enemy camp, no ruckus, meaning no escape attempt from Daniella.
Michael sighed. It had been a week since her capture. He knew Daniella was alive; the enemy kept pestering them for a meeting. A meeting they couldn’t entertain, for the Nicopolan demands required the Korelian forces to abandon the city.
Such demands filled the Korimor people with suspicion. Even inside the city walls, the situation remained precarious.
Food rationing had soured everyone's mood. The populace was lethargic, anxious about the fate of their harvest, now in the hands of the Nicopolans. Harvest time was just a month away, and if plundered, many would perish in the upcoming winter.
As a precaution against internal strife, Hugo and Michael had barricaded many entrances to the castle, leaving only the main one open. They prepared for the possibility of fighting enemies from without and within and had stockpiled all their supplies within the castle.
Michael knew that despite their surrender, the Korimor people had little trust in them. The only thing binding them together now was a common enemy and the belief that the Korelians were the lesser of two evils.
Fortunately, both sides feared the nomads who still roamed freely outside, leading to a stalemate. The Nicopolans couldn’t lay siege, fearing a rear attack by the nomads if they committed.
The Korimor people, along with the Korelian force, were trapped inside, unable to face the massive force outside. Meanwhile, the nomads, mainly comprised of children and the elderly, could do little but keep their distance.
The rhythmic footsteps on the stones prompted Michael to turn his head.
“Anything new, Sir Michael?” inquired Hugo, the Deputy.
"Only several public floggings over something. Couldn't make out the details; too distant," Michael replied.
“I see...” Hugo remarked, gazing into the distance at the enemy’s camp. “Should we send a scout to investigate?”
“Already done. They’ll be back after dark, though I doubt they’ll learn anything useful.”
Hugo nodded and commented, "These Nicopolans... It’s remarkable how they manage to maintain order with so many untrained people.”
“Their trust to that Tarracan Man is enviable," Michael mused.
"The one who feeds his followers with bread as sweet as nectar and honey," Hugo recited, echoing stories from captured men from earlier skirmishes. "Sir Michael, what is your take on such a man?"
"If that is true, then he is indeed a living legend and ought to be enshrined. Perhaps it would be best to confine him in a tower so he can continue producing that remarkable bread in peace, ensuring all of Lowlandia does not go hungry this winter."
Michael's jest elicited a chuckle from Hugo, though it too quickly faded. The atmosphere was too sour, too heavy, even for veterans like him.
As Hugo’s gaze returned to the sweeping plains, Michael stood. "It's time to rotate the cavalry."
“Take a drink or two and some rest. I’ll keep an eye out for Lady Daniella," offered Hugo.
“Gratitude, Deputy.”
“No need, I share the blame for allowing her...” Hints of bitterness apparent in Hugo's voice.
Taking a deep breath, Michael headed toward the gatehouse, where he found cool shade and a squire who readily offered him a drink. He was about to descend the circular stone stairwell when Hugo's shout from the battlements halted him.
The one-eyed knight hurried back and saw Hugo pointing southward. Others hastened to the battlements for a better view.
Michael followed Hugo's gaze and beheld a towering cloud of dust rising from the south. "From the south?" he whispered to himself, more a statement than a question. An experienced cavalryman from White Lake, like him, knew such a cloud was raised by hundreds, perhaps thousands of horsemen.
The swirling dust continued to obscure the finer details, yet the vastness of the disturbance unmistakably heralded the coming of a massive cavalry force.
Excitement rippled through the ranks as men beckoned their comrades to witness the sight. Along Korimor’s southern wall, eyes were fixed on the emerging spectacle.
“Look, our nomads have noticed and are reacting,” a squire blurted out excitedly.
The advancing force appeared as a mirage beneath the blazing sun.
Michael continued to ponder. He had no clue who in Lowlandia could muster such power, or why were they in Korimor at this time. Meanwhile, among the Korelians, speculation pointed to one name alone.
"It’s only been ten days since I sent the letter. This is impossible," Hugo said, shaking his head.
Michael shared his skepticism, but as if to mock their doubts, the unmistakable blue and bronze banner appeared proudly on the horizon. Its bold and striking colors finally cut through the dust clouds as the galloping horsemen trod upon the green pasture of Korimor.
“The Lord’s personal banner!” erupted from many throats at once.
Confirming it with his own eye, Michael clenched his fist, pounding the wall in a burst of excitement. Meanwhile, Hugo and his men shouted war cries, jubilant beyond measure.
Almost instantaneously, the news spread like wildfire, galvanizing every member of the Korelian force and drawing the gaze of all within the city.
Initially, people thought the Korelians had gone mad, but soon the excitement spread like wildfire. Before long, everyone in Korimor heard of what was happening outside the walls. Faster than anyone could have predicted and ever unpredictable, the Lord of Korelia had arrived.
***
Hanne
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