Grimdux
I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck
Touch O' Luck
II) It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series.
It will be a superior reading experience
to start this story from the beginning
Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience:)
Chapter specific maps of the realms
Maps of the Realms
Character portraits
Sir Lucius Alden
A tiger in wait, is never idle.
Part II
-When everyone else feared yet another defeat-
Lucius followed the aged Captain towards the area where the mercenaries were training. The Heir’s men had taken over three longhouses, several cabins and a whole street in Mazza Burg at Sam O’ Dargan’s insistence. The locals as was their habit had gathered to watch them, forming quite the crowds once the weather improved and Lucius was present. With a shiver, Lucius opened his stride to catch up with the energetic officer.
Sam really wanted his raid to succeed. Vengeance is a powerful motivator, Lucius decided.
“Galio, how are the men doing?” He asked when they reached them, Mamercus jumping to attention and looking at the men working in groups reproachfully.
“Some things they get easier, others… only life in a camp will give ye that, milord.”
Lucius glanced at him. Galio while he’d outright rejected the advisor position, was the most experienced man he had and the one closest to him. The one he trusted the most and the first man Lucius had really recruited back in Alden. It seemed ages ago now, but it had only been a year.
“You know, I intent to reinstate your rank in the Legion right? I’m not building a mercenary band here.”
“I reckon you’re not, milord,” Galio grimaced, as if not wanting to broach the matter. “Still you can’t bestow a Legion’s rank on anyone not commanding a Legion’s unit.”
“Don’t worry my friend,” Lucius replied. “Find me another ten men and you’ll have your Century… Centurion Veturius.”
Galio nodded, a little relieved.
“Aye, milord,” he paused, then added. “More officers are needed.”
“What about Kaeso and Mamercus?” Lucius asked watching the men drilling with enthusiasm to impress him.
“Ahm, I don’t believe they should be removed from their position, milord.”
“As advisors? They barely offer me anything!” Lucius protested.
“They listen to ye though, milord,” Galio looked at him sadly. “That was their problem and ye solved it.”
Hmm.
“You’ve thought it through Centurion,” Lucius noted, a little impressed. He’d underestimated the old officer’s smarts.
“It was their last hope, milord. Nothing else had worked on them.”
“Maybe I should take you on as an advisor after all,” Lucius said with a smile. “Your judgement is pretty sound.”
“It’s an acquired skill, milord,” Galio replied. “Anyone going up the ranks, has it.”
Humility isn’t, Lucius thought with a nod. That’s the sign of a solid character one can’t fake.
“Mister Mamercus,” he called out and the ex-legionnaire trotted towards them, then saluted thumping his fist on his armour-protected chest. All a show for the keenly watching men. Almost a hundred of them present. Some of the Number’s Band and a scarred Northern warrior rounding it up. The white haired man pale as death, chin and everything down his throat black. The skin burned and cracked.
“Milord!” Mamercus replied with a smirk.
“I want to see those cut by the Centurion.”
The Heavy Archer blinked.
“Ahm, what for?” He queried, adding with a glance about him. “Milord.”
“It was an order, Mamercus,” Lucius said strictly.
The soldier cleared his throat taken aback, then nodded. “They are sitting in the shade sir.”
The sky was covered with heavy clouds, so everyone was in the shade in a sense.
Galio was right, Lucius thought. These are kids.
Most aged between fourteen and sixteen. Seventeen is pushing it hard.
“What’s your name lad?” He asked the first of them. A bright eyed, freckled redhead. All bones, but full of energy. Eight out of ten could have been related to Faye.
“Zac Ross, lord Alden!” Zac blasted, veins popping on his neck.
What he lacked in kilos, the teen made up in lungs.
“I’m standing a foot away mister Ross,” Lucius clarified, with a slight clench of his jaw. “Now kindly answer me this without blowing out my eardrums. Can you use the long blade?”
Zac blushed and then frowned. “Never had a blade, Lord Alden!”
“What about the rest of you?” Lucius asked. “Anyone has any skill with the sword and shield?”
A boy raised his hand. “I can use an axe, Lord Alden!”
“How are you going to protect your friend without a shield?” Lucius asked him and he hanged his head.
“We can train!” A brave one asked, some brown mixed in with the red. Shifty looking face. Lucius stared at him.
“What’s your name lad?”
“Joe Fallon, Lord Lucius,” Joe replied with a grin. He was the oldest of the bunch. Lucius cracked a smile.
“Ever used a sling, mister Fallon?” He asked him, hands tied behind his back. A lot of people had gathered to listen to him talk.
“To hunt birds,” he glanced at the crowd. “Chicken.”
Several chuckles were heard at his answer.
“You have a sling mister Mamercus?” Lucius asked and the archer snapped out of his lethargy with a frown.
“I have… eh,” he checked into his satchel and found a military-issued leather sling, the cords on it braided and over half a meter in length.
“Can you use that one, mister Fallon?” Lucius asked the watching teenager.
“I can, Lord Lucius,” Joe replied confidently.
“Anyone else?” Lucius asked and several hands were raised. “What about you Zac?”
“Not much of a shot, Lord Alden,” Zac replied truthfully.
“Are you willing to train? Some of you suggested it afore a couple of minutes.”
“I am, but what do I do with a sling?” Zac asked, a little confused.
“Mamercus?” Lucius said sternly and the archer breathed out exasperated.
“A lead slingshot can pierce an iron helm and depending on the distance most plates,” he parroted, what he’d learned his first days in the Legion. “What it doesn’t pierce it shatters, or breaks. What it doesn’t break, it dazes the fuck out of, so a friendly can kill it safely. If fired on an unarmored enemy it can maim the one watching his arse behind him, after going through—”
“Thank you, mister Mamercus,” Lucius interrupted him. “Listen up lads. You are not making it as fighters, but there’s a spot for you in my slingers unit.”
“Will we get armor?” Someone asked. The news had spread, Lucius thought pleased.
“Suitable to your unit’s needs,” he replied.
“Who’s captaining the unit?” Joe queried.
“Decanus Sorex,” Lucius deadpanned and Mamercus nodded vaguely, before he realized Lucius was talking about him. He assumed a strange expression, half-happy for the unexpected promotion, half-miserable for the responsibility thrust upon him. After weighing everything in his mind, he turn to protest, but Lucius was expecting it. “Decanus take your unit for training, after you first outfit them with slings. Use pellet rocks, while Gunn is preparing the lead molds.”
Mamercus was unwilling to give up without a fight.
“There’s no place inside Mazza—”
Galio was the one that cut him off this time.
“Plenty of fields outside the walls, Decanus!” He barked with such ferocity a small child started crying. “MOVE IT, AFORE I USE YE AS TARGET DUMMY SON! Why are ye still standing? Hand me that sling now!” It only went worse after that.
There was some blond mixed in with the red, the redhead standing next to Faye, staring at him intently. She’d leather armor on and a bow on her back, the quiver packed with arrows. The leather pants she wore stretched to the limit.
“Faye,” Lucius greeted the fiercely grinning woman, after he’d approached them. The crowd had slowly dispersed, but the pale faced warrior had remained. His back resting on the wall of a longhouse.
“Lord Alden,” Faye teased him. “Twas nigh pleasurable watching ye wit the boys.”
“You wanted to partake in the training?” Lucius retorted with grin.
“I prefer personal lessons,” Faye said and the woman next to her whistled.
“Wow, this one is lookin’ much better up close,” she said impressed. “Is it the blood, Lord Alden?”
“I wouldn’t know…” Lucius’ voice trailed.
“Alana Shields,” Alana replied and added knowingly. “I’m good wit the bow, but I possess a diverse skillset.”
“Fixing to join my slingers?” Lucius asked, dodging the trap.
“Have a job wit the Numbers band,” Alana countered her eyes flirting shamelessly. “But I can be persuaded Milord Alden. Me walls are easily taken.”
Lucius stared at Faye and caught her rolling her eyes at her friend’s shenanigans. “Is Numbers a women’s warband now?”
“Just us two,” Faye replied looking at him. “Alana is my second.”
“I bet they love that,” Lucius commented.
“They don’t, but they listen.”
“It’s you they don’t like milord,” Alana added with a wink.
Lucius nodded. “How about you?”
“It depends on me day of the month. Are ye single, Milord Alden? I’m asking for a friend.”
“Alana!” Faye hissed her matching the color of her hair. “What the fuck?”
“What?” Her friend argued. “Ye told me, he’s not taking yer hints. Maybe it’s—”
Faye cut her off midsentence. “Remember now how ye have to go and check on the guys?”
“No, I don’t,” Alana argued glaring at her.
“Go on now, chop-chop,” Faye insisted not backing down. “They might cause mischief.”
“Oh well,” Alana whined. “Fine. Nice meetin’ ye Milord Alden,” she beamed, then turned and walked away, putting that stretched pants to good use.
“Right,” Lucius commented after she was out of earshot. “She’s a character.”
“In what way?” Faye probed, not very amused.
Lucius scratched the back of his head. He needed a haircut, he decided.
“Nothing in particular comes to mind.”
“How’s the shoulder?” Faye asked to change the subject. She’d closed the distance between them in the meantime. Other than the warrior relaxing deep in thought across the street, they were alone.
“The cut wasn’t deep, but it’s bothering me, now that you brought it up.”
“I just wanted to get her off me back,” Faye explained.
“I understand.”
“Try to ease them in,” she continued.
“Faye, I don’t mind. You do what you think is best.”
“I’m coming wit ye in the raid.”
Lucius blinked, taken by surprise.
“No you’re not,” he replied sternly.
It wasn’t going to work.
“I am. Me mind is made up. Ayup,” Faye argued.
“That’s no place…” He sighed. “Forget about it. You’re not coming.”
He made it even worse.
Faye stood in front of his face. Well, her forehead was to his chin, but what she lacked in height, the woman had in ferocity.
“Yer not goin’ to order me around Alden!”
“I’m not… I’m trying to protect you damn it!” Lucius retorted. “It’s a dangerous idea.”
“Who’s going to protect you?” She countered. Lucius clenched his jaw. Thought about kissing her, which wasn’t helping him come up with a better response.
“I can’t have my mind on you in the field, Faye,” he said tiredly.
“Then don’t,” she replied and touched his beard. The fingers snaking up to his cheek. “You need a bath.”
“I’ll clean up in a bit. I have to talk to the Jarl,” he lifted her chin up, stared into her eyes. “You’re not going to back down,” Faye shook her head right and left.
Ah, Lucius thought. There it is then.
“What?” Faye asked seeing his expression.
“A woman you can’t control is dangerous.”
Faye stood back. “Ye don’t believe that.”
He didn’t. These were his father’s words.
Lucius sighed. “What will you do?”
“I can scout for you. Use the warband to find a good path. You need a local Lucius,” she blushed saying his name. He didn’t mind. In fact, Lucius liked it so much he found himself kissing her in the middle of the street.
Faye stopped him, even more flushed than before. “I tell you what. We practice, so I can show ye my skill.”
“I know you’re skilled,” Lucius said. The last thing on his mind was crossing blades with her.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Let’s make a wager,” Faye said. “I beat you and I get to be yer scout, wit no complains.”
“If you win, I’ll have an armour made for you, on top of that,” Lucius replied with a grin.
“What’s wrong wit this one?”
“It’s too worn out. All broken rings and patches. Better to have you in a better one.”
Faye cooed softly. “Aww you… fine,” she looked around and then sighed deeply. “See what ye did now? It’s not fair. If ye win, I’ll sleep in yer cabin. But I’m not missin’ the raid.”
Lucius smacked his lips.
“I can’t take this offer,” he said with difficulty. “I want to, but it’s not fair.”
“Why?”
“You’ll never win,” he explained. “I’ve studied your technique. I’m honor bound to tell you upfront.”
“Hehe. Oh Alden. Ye got to learn to take advantage of people,” Faye advised him, chuckling with his expression.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” Lucius replied truthfully. “Much as I want to.”
Faye took a step back and unsheathed her swords, one after the other. “I won’t mind if you did is what I’m telling you. Now, show me yer moves.”
Oh boy, Lucius thought and got his blade out. His worry was how to avoid hurting her. Suggesting they use wooden swords, was something Faye would turn down immediately.
Faye hissed and swung at him first left, then right in turn, using both her leaf-shaped blade swords. The weapons shorter and lighter than Lucius’ longsword. He parried them both away, taking a step back and Faye rushed him all flushed, the skin on her neck matching her hair.
She gasped frustrated, her successive slashes easily parried and narrowing her eyes, swung with both blades at the same time, rather carelessly. Lucius took a quick step back dodging her wild swing, waited for the furious woman to step forward to find her footing and sent the sword Faye had in her left hand to land on the dirt road, with a swing of his.
“What?” Faye glared at him. “What are ye grinning for?”
“I’m not,” Lucius replied grinning.
“I was holding back!” Faye snapped. Lucius took a casual step forward to cut on their distance. “Yer not winning without a fight, Alden!” She roared, her blood on fire and raised her right hand intending to go for a powerful slash, or cut. Lucius didn’t think Faye was aiming at that moment. He flicked his own sword mirroring hers, but in one tenth of the arc and got her under the iron pommel with the flat of his blade. Metal sound ringing down the street. Faye’s fingers turned numb and the sword jumped out of her hand with enough momentum to reach the wall of the longhouse, where that warrior was watching them, but Lucius snatched it out of the air the next moment to prevent an accident.
“Bah! Ye cheated!” Faye cried out holding her right hand. More angry than hurting hopefully.
“How’s the hand?” Lucius asked, concern in his voice. “Never approach a taller opponent like that Faye.”
“How am I supposed to fight ye then?” Faye queried. “Wear sandals wit heels?”
Lucius would love to see Faye in a Lorian dress or a sheer summer toga.
“You’re not. I don’t want to fight ye Faye.”
“Ye know what I meant,” she murmured and sighed. “Two out of three?”
“I’m not risking an injury for a dare,” Lucius stopped her. “We switch steel to wood, if you want us to practice proper.”
This hadn’t come out as good as he’d liked to.
Faye chuckled not minding the double entendre.
“I want to learn that trick and any other,” the redhead said with a naughty ambiguous smile, the white-haired warrior’s snort breaking their moment. Lucius turned to glare at the approaching mail armored man. The Northman had a longsword out, sharpened blade gleaming.
What in the name of Tyeus?
“Logan what do ye want?” Faye snapped, sounding irritated as well. “Put that thing away!”
Logan, skin full of cracks and old scars grunted and moved his sword in a tight arc, his other hand smacking at the pommel from below. He had his icy blue eyes on Lucius all that time. He grunted and repeated the move.
Lucius frowned.
“Logan ye crazy bastard, go away now. Yer not makin’ any sense,” Faye urged him.
Logan snorted, made a couple of guttural sounds, his throat all messed up from his bout in the icy waters of Ludriver and pointed his sword at Lucius.
“You want me to try it on you?” Lucius asked, realizing what the maimed warrior was trying to say.
“What? No, yer not fighting him!” Faye gasped, sounding worried. “Crawl back into yer hole Gray!”
Logan Gray Barret threw her a glare. Lucius took a step back and unsheathed his longsword again. He stared at the waiting warrior. “I’ll count to three,” he told him, but Logan growled in the mockery of a snigger.
“No, put that blade away Alden!” Faye snapped doubly worried. “He’s fuckin’ crazy!”
“As you wish,” Lucius said and snapped his sword at full speed, with a quick forward step. He caught Logan’s blade at the pommel with the flat of his blade again, the tip opening his mail at the wrist and send it out of his numb fingers. Lucius made to grab it with his left, but Logan beat him to it, snatched it out of the air, flipped it once expertly and let it rest on Lucius’ exposed neck, right under his left ear.
Lucius own blade was pointing at the warrior’s stomach, although Logan did have a vambrace on it. The Heir to Regia smacked his lips frustrated and Logan pressed the tip of his blade on the soft skin, nicking him and drawing blood.
“I can gore you, mister Barret,” Lucius warned him and Logan snorted in response, his eyes telling Lucius he’d kill him first. Lucius yielded and withdrew his sword, Logan doing the same right after.
The white-haired prematurely aged warrior, returned it to his sheath and eyed them both reproachfully, but mostly Lucius.
“You’re left handed,” Lucius said and the man made another guttural sound that turned into a snort. “Either. Wow,” Lucius nodded and stared at a dumbfounded Faye. “It was a trick, never try it in battle,” he told her and Logan nodded as well, now pleased. Lucius turned and stared at him for a moment, then tended a hand in greeting in the Northern way.
“I’m Lucius Alden,” he told him simply. “Heard a lot about you Logan,” Lucius added with a smile. Nothing pleasant, but he left that part out. “Thank you for your input,” he added sincerely.
Logan pressed his mouth tight, grimaced and then shook his hand. The grip steely, but Lucius gave as much as he took without flinching. Logan grunted, doubly pleased and with another intense stare at Faye, turned and walked away.
“A good friend?” Lucius probed, a troubled Faye.
“Benton killed his brother in a duel, when I was little,” Faye replied. “Barret’s warband raided our lands and killed my father, caught me in the chaos,” Lucius frowned at the senseless violence. “He didn’t let them kill me, or worse.”
“What happened after that?” Lucius asked.
“Benton thought he owed him, Logan believed they were even,” Faye replied, hugging her body with her arms.
Right.
“Now Benton is gone,” Lucius replied with a grimace. He still felt guilty with what he’d done. It wasn’t his fault, but you don’t take a life and feel good about it. Lucius didn’t want to become that kind of man. “And I stand in his place. Will he be a problem?”
“Nah,” Faye replied with a shrug. “He likes ye Alden. Give him enough time and he’ll fight for ye. It’s yer fuckin’ superpower.”
The legends said that when Jarl David was young, he’d managed to get inside Halfostad in Sovya and keep its gates open long enough by himself, for his men to sack the city. When King Alistair broke through at Yepehir in seventy four, the Crulls reinforced by Lesia led a force beyond the burning Kas intending to cut him off there. Jarl David retreated to Rifjordal with the Crulls and Lorians hot on his trail. At the banks of the frozen Fjor River, in the heart of winter, he turned around with his small force and fought the High King’s army to a bloody standstill in the last battle of the war.
For the three Kingdoms that is.
Jarl David had never stopped fighting in the years since.
Whether tall tales, fanciful exaggerations, or absolute myths, the man still cut an arresting figure well into the fifth decade of his life. Standing over six feet, with a broad chest protected by heavy chainmail and a thick neck, he kept his huge war-hammer on the table for all to see. His blue eyes and greying red hair combed back from his hard face.
He smirked when Lucius entered the longhouse. Sam O’ Dargan his second son and heir after the death of his firstborn at the Battle of the Bridges, was standing on his right side and a hard-eyed lanky man full of quiet energy stood on his left. Oscar Steele of icy Blonden Port, had everything under his eyes painted white and had a short shafted halberd on his back.
“This is Sir Lucius Alden father,” Sam rustled introducing him. He paused unsure and then added. “And Faye Numbers.”
“Alistair’s firstborn in the blasted flesh,” Jarl David crackled, baritone voice with heavy Northern accent bouncing off the walls. “I expected ye to be halfway to Regia by now. Take advantage of the weather.”
“Jarl David, I’ve a mission to fulfil,” Lucius replied undaunted. “And I came to an arrangement with your son, I intend to honor.”
“Raid over Ludriver, to Krakenhall,” the Jarl taunted and got up from the table and walked towards him. He had Lucius height, but was heavier, his face lined and scarred from cold, wars and age. A very crude drawing of the area was depicted on a large bear pelt hanging from a wall. The Jarl pointed a finger at it. “There are three forts in between us and a heavy-flowing river, Sir… Lucius. Am I getting it right?”
“Sir Lucius is fine, Jarl David,” Lucius replied, keeping his cool. “The rest of it as well, for the most part.”
“How are ye gonna do it?” The Jarl mocked him. “Wit yer boats and fancy armor? Kids wit slings?”
“Lucius is a great leader!” Faye snapped and Lucius grimaced, as he didn’t want to antagonize the Jarl. Jarl David turned his eyes on the much shorter than both of them Faye bemused.
“Numbers lass has grown Steele,” the Jarl said. “She might come for her father’s lands soon.”
“She has,” Oscar agreed with a leer. “I don’t see her succeeding.”
“Are ye gonna cause me trouble, Faye?” The Jarl asked her. “Yer brothers would turn in their graves, seeing ye defend their killer.”
“Better him, than havin’ a sneaky bastard like Steele at my table!”
“Yer brother started it, Faye,” Oscar retorted. “Staying loyal matters. Remember that.”
“She’s a hot-headed lass, Oscar,” Jarl David admonished him. “No need for threats.”
“Jarl David, Faye has nothing to do with this,” Lucius intervened. “As for what you said. I fought legitimately, after I was provoked. Please refrain from insulting me,” he warned him.
The ruler of Fetya smirked.
“Ah, it’s the truth I reckon,” the Jarl agreed. “Yer not spineless at least,” he added pleased. “What do ye think Steele?”
“I’ll refrain from answerin’,” the man replied, using Lucius’ word. “Until after I hear the plan.”
“It’s a raid they don’t expect,” Sam said, deciding it was a good time to intervene. “We need to retaliate father!”
Jarl David snorted and turned to look at the map.
“The moment you cross into Vanzon’s lands, the Crulls will cross the Montfoot Bridge and attack us,” he finally said. “I have barely two thousand men to stop them there son. What you have and are eager to waste away, I need.”
“These are my men,” Sam argued, standing up furious.
“We need time to replenish our forces,” the Jarl continued, not minding his outburst. “Make more weapons, wait for iron and supplies from Rifjordal. I’m still burying bodies’ son.”
“The Crulls have forces rebuilding Wolvesbane Castle. They won’t move until they finish work there,” Sam argued.
His father grunted not convinced.
“You want a fort built near this bridge of yours,” the Jarl said to him and Lucius stared at the map. “A fort won’t hold them, if they cross into Fetya proper Lucius.”
“I want to delay them there again,” Lucius replied calmly.
“Vanzon will use birds, ask for help,” the Jarl countered. “Even if you stop them there, the Crulls will reinforce him again, catch you on the other side of the river, just like at Stag’s Doab.”
“That wasn’t my plan,” Lucius argued.
“Why did you get involved? If it was such a bad plan, why risk it?”
“I watched what they did. I’d sworn to my father I’ll bring Zofia back and bring the North close with Regia. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Zofia…” the Jarl grimaced. “She’s gone Lucius.”
“Curd would have taken her to Vanzon,” Lucius argued.
“The Lord of Krakenhall would have contacted me, if he had,” Jarl David said.
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“All other prospects,” the Jarl sighed. “I don’t want to think about.”
“They wouldn’t hurt her.”
“They killed a girl that looked like her to provoke us at the bridges!” The Jarl snapped angry. “You think the Issirs would have constrained themselves… the moment Devious Dirk took her, she was dead.”
Lucius stood back with a frown. He stared at the map again deep in thought.
“Father,” Sam tried again. “They are weakened now, Kaltha is fighting another war, by the next season everything could change.”
“If you get caught between two forces,” the Jarl replied. “Even if I give you another thousand men on top of your eight hundred, you won’t have the numbers to get out of it. I can’t lose another son.”
“Jarl David says we lost? Is that it?” Sam rustled frustrated.
“I’m sayin’ I don’t see the benefit son,” Jarl David argued tiredly. “They have the numbers.”
Lucius listened to their argument still staring at the map, an awed Faye looking at him silently. Lucius’ eyes run over the bridges and the forts, the ‘great old river’ and its branches. They stopped at Stag’s Doab and remembered Roderick dying there, fighting a battle they couldn’t win. He heard those present talking about fighting another, even more weakened now, than they were back then. Hard men can hide their fear. Sometimes it’s brave to know you can’t overcome the odds.
Other times like this one, fear could blind you and never realize every battle is different.
“You won’t fight them together,” Lucius said interrupting the heated discussion inside the longhouse. Jarl David turned with narrowed eyes to glare at him.
“Can ye see the future, spawn of Alistair?” He taunted, his patience running thin. “Are ye goin’ to use magic to prevent them from helping each other? The recent past tells me they will.”
“Are you finished?” Lucius asked him sternly and the Jarl took a step back stunned. Oscar Steele’s painted jaw and mouth split into an amused grin, impressed at Lucius spirit.
“Go on, Lucius of Alden,” the Jarl said through his teeth.
“I can’t see the future,” Lucius started pointing at the map. “Nor do I possess magic. I can see the ground though and the terrain. I can see the rivers and the bridges the Crulls will have to cross mid-winter to help Vanzon. This isn’t Stag’s Doab. It isn’t next door to them. It isn’t comfortably situated between the two.”
There was a grin on Sam’s mouth as well now.
“The Crulls will have to choose Jarl David. Can’t have it both ways. Either they hold the Montfoot Bridge, even cross it to attack deeper in Fetya, whatever that will give them, or they’ll send an army to Krakenhall. Can they do both? They could. What do you think will be their priority?”
“Securing their border,” Oscar Steele replied in Jarl’s stead. “Keeping an eye on the Montfoot.”
“Probably sent Bas Rangers to Ludriver Castle,” Sam added. “That’ll be a journey and a half.”
“A force can check them there and the fort will warn Mazza if they come the other way,” Lucius continued confidently. “Whatever they sent to help Vanzon won’t magically appear next to his forces. When it does, we can defeat it. We can defeat them both in detail, one after the other.”
Jarl David looked at him. “Yer not talking about a raid,” he rustled and you could hear a pin drop inside the room.
“I never had, your people did,” Lucius replied. Just like they assumed a military unit was a warband and a campaign’s goal would automatically be a raid.
As mentioned previously, where others saw defeat and feared what the enemy will do, the failures of their past a heavy ball-chain weighing them down, Lucius recognized he could rip their opponent’s heart out. There is no other time, nor a better moment. Kaltha would never be so distracted ever again.
Act now, Lucius had thought while staring at the map, and turn this war on its head.
While the Realm was in turmoil, no one paid attention on what was happening in the North. Lucius, having recovered from the Battle of the Bridges, reorganized his small force and then stricken a deal with the O’ Dargans. He crossed Ludriver into Kaltha next, alongside ‘Mad Wolf’ Sam in the most daring campaign of the war, up until that point. He did it in heavy winter, with all logic pointing that it was a feint, something to distract from the Jarl’s real intentions. A foolish desperate gamble of a disillusioned young noble, who’d bitten off more than he could chew.
Lord Sirio Veturius
The Fall of Heroes
Chapter II
(King Lucius the third,
Northern campaigns,
Tigers in the Blizzard- A hundred days)
Winter-Spring of 190 NC
Grimdux
I. This is the direct sequel to Touch O' Luck
Touch O' Luck
II) It serves as a prologue to the Old Realms series.
It will be a superior reading experience
to start this story from the beginning
Please give it a good rating if you liked it, it will help the story reach a much bigger audience:)
Chapter specific maps of the realms
Maps of the Realms
Character portraits
Sir Lucius Alden
A tiger in wait, is never idle.
Part II
-When everyone else feared yet another defeat-
Lucius followed the aged Captain towards the area where the mercenaries were training. The Heir’s men had taken over three longhouses, several cabins and a whole street in Mazza Burg at Sam O’ Dargan’s insistence. The locals as was their habit had gathered to watch them, forming quite the crowds once the weather improved and Lucius was present. With a shiver, Lucius opened his stride to catch up with the energetic officer.
Sam really wanted his raid to succeed. Vengeance is a powerful motivator, Lucius decided.
“Galio, how are the men doing?” He asked when they reached them, Mamercus jumping to attention and looking at the men working in groups reproachfully.
“Some things they get easier, others… only life in a camp will give ye that, milord.”
Lucius glanced at him. Galio while he’d outright rejected the advisor position, was the most experienced man he had and the one closest to him. The one he trusted the most and the first man Lucius had really recruited back in Alden. It seemed ages ago now, but it had only been a year.
“You know, I intent to reinstate your rank in the Legion right? I’m not building a mercenary band here.”
“I reckon you’re not, milord,” Galio grimaced, as if not wanting to broach the matter. “Still you can’t bestow a Legion’s rank on anyone not commanding a Legion’s unit.”
“Don’t worry my friend,” Lucius replied. “Find me another ten men and you’ll have your Century… Centurion Veturius.”
Galio nodded, a little relieved.
“Aye, milord,” he paused, then added. “More officers are needed.”
“What about Kaeso and Mamercus?” Lucius asked watching the men drilling with enthusiasm to impress him.
“Ahm, I don’t believe they should be removed from their position, milord.”
“As advisors? They barely offer me anything!” Lucius protested.
“They listen to ye though, milord,” Galio looked at him sadly. “That was their problem and ye solved it.”
Hmm.
“You’ve thought it through Centurion,” Lucius noted, a little impressed. He’d underestimated the old officer’s smarts.
“It was their last hope, milord. Nothing else had worked on them.”
“Maybe I should take you on as an advisor after all,” Lucius said with a smile. “Your judgement is pretty sound.”
“It’s an acquired skill, milord,” Galio replied. “Anyone going up the ranks, has it.”
Humility isn’t, Lucius thought with a nod. That’s the sign of a solid character one can’t fake.
“Mister Mamercus,” he called out and the ex-legionnaire trotted towards them, then saluted thumping his fist on his armour-protected chest. All a show for the keenly watching men. Almost a hundred of them present. Some of the Number’s Band and a scarred Northern warrior rounding it up. The white haired man pale as death, chin and everything down his throat black. The skin burned and cracked.
“Milord!” Mamercus replied with a smirk.
“I want to see those cut by the Centurion.”
The Heavy Archer blinked.
“Ahm, what for?” He queried, adding with a glance about him. “Milord.”
“It was an order, Mamercus,” Lucius said strictly.
The soldier cleared his throat taken aback, then nodded. “They are sitting in the shade sir.”
The sky was covered with heavy clouds, so everyone was in the shade in a sense.
Galio was right, Lucius thought. These are kids.
Most aged between fourteen and sixteen. Seventeen is pushing it hard.
“What’s your name lad?” He asked the first of them. A bright eyed, freckled redhead. All bones, but full of energy. Eight out of ten could have been related to Faye.
“Zac Ross, lord Alden!” Zac blasted, veins popping on his neck.
What he lacked in kilos, the teen made up in lungs.
“I’m standing a foot away mister Ross,” Lucius clarified, with a slight clench of his jaw. “Now kindly answer me this without blowing out my eardrums. Can you use the long blade?”
Zac blushed and then frowned. “Never had a blade, Lord Alden!”
“What about the rest of you?” Lucius asked. “Anyone has any skill with the sword and shield?”
A boy raised his hand. “I can use an axe, Lord Alden!”
“How are you going to protect your friend without a shield?” Lucius asked him and he hanged his head.
“We can train!” A brave one asked, some brown mixed in with the red. Shifty looking face. Lucius stared at him.
“What’s your name lad?”
“Joe Fallon, Lord Lucius,” Joe replied with a grin. He was the oldest of the bunch. Lucius cracked a smile.
“Ever used a sling, mister Fallon?” He asked him, hands tied behind his back. A lot of people had gathered to listen to him talk.
“To hunt birds,” he glanced at the crowd. “Chicken.”
Several chuckles were heard at his answer.
“You have a sling mister Mamercus?” Lucius asked and the archer snapped out of his lethargy with a frown.
“I have… eh,” he checked into his satchel and found a military-issued leather sling, the cords on it braided and over half a meter in length.
“Can you use that one, mister Fallon?” Lucius asked the watching teenager.
“I can, Lord Lucius,” Joe replied confidently.
“Anyone else?” Lucius asked and several hands were raised. “What about you Zac?”
“Not much of a shot, Lord Alden,” Zac replied truthfully.
“Are you willing to train? Some of you suggested it afore a couple of minutes.”
“I am, but what do I do with a sling?” Zac asked, a little confused.
“Mamercus?” Lucius said sternly and the archer breathed out exasperated.
“A lead slingshot can pierce an iron helm and depending on the distance most plates,” he parroted, what he’d learned his first days in the Legion. “What it doesn’t pierce it shatters, or breaks. What it doesn’t break, it dazes the fuck out of, so a friendly can kill it safely. If fired on an unarmored enemy it can maim the one watching his arse behind him, after going through—”
“Thank you, mister Mamercus,” Lucius interrupted him. “Listen up lads. You are not making it as fighters, but there’s a spot for you in my slingers unit.”
“Will we get armor?” Someone asked. The news had spread, Lucius thought pleased.
“Suitable to your unit’s needs,” he replied.
“Who’s captaining the unit?” Joe queried.
“Decanus Sorex,” Lucius deadpanned and Mamercus nodded vaguely, before he realized Lucius was talking about him. He assumed a strange expression, half-happy for the unexpected promotion, half-miserable for the responsibility thrust upon him. After weighing everything in his mind, he turn to protest, but Lucius was expecting it. “Decanus take your unit for training, after you first outfit them with slings. Use pellet rocks, while Gunn is preparing the lead molds.”
Mamercus was unwilling to give up without a fight.
“There’s no place inside Mazza—”
Galio was the one that cut him off this time.
“Plenty of fields outside the walls, Decanus!” He barked with such ferocity a small child started crying. “MOVE IT, AFORE I USE YE AS TARGET DUMMY SON! Why are ye still standing? Hand me that sling now!” It only went worse after that.
There was some blond mixed in with the red, the redhead standing next to Faye, staring at him intently. She’d leather armor on and a bow on her back, the quiver packed with arrows. The leather pants she wore stretched to the limit.
“Faye,” Lucius greeted the fiercely grinning woman, after he’d approached them. The crowd had slowly dispersed, but the pale faced warrior had remained. His back resting on the wall of a longhouse.
“Lord Alden,” Faye teased him. “Twas nigh pleasurable watching ye wit the boys.”
“You wanted to partake in the training?” Lucius retorted with grin.
“I prefer personal lessons,” Faye said and the woman next to her whistled.
“Wow, this one is lookin’ much better up close,” she said impressed. “Is it the blood, Lord Alden?”
“I wouldn’t know…” Lucius’ voice trailed.
“Alana Shields,” Alana replied and added knowingly. “I’m good wit the bow, but I possess a diverse skillset.”
“Fixing to join my slingers?” Lucius asked, dodging the trap.
“Have a job wit the Numbers band,” Alana countered her eyes flirting shamelessly. “But I can be persuaded Milord Alden. Me walls are easily taken.”
Lucius stared at Faye and caught her rolling her eyes at her friend’s shenanigans. “Is Numbers a women’s warband now?”
“Just us two,” Faye replied looking at him. “Alana is my second.”
“I bet they love that,” Lucius commented.
“They don’t, but they listen.”
“It’s you they don’t like milord,” Alana added with a wink.
Lucius nodded. “How about you?”
“It depends on me day of the month. Are ye single, Milord Alden? I’m asking for a friend.”
“Alana!” Faye hissed her matching the color of her hair. “What the fuck?”
“What?” Her friend argued. “Ye told me, he’s not taking yer hints. Maybe it’s—”
Faye cut her off midsentence. “Remember now how ye have to go and check on the guys?”
“No, I don’t,” Alana argued glaring at her.
“Go on now, chop-chop,” Faye insisted not backing down. “They might cause mischief.”
“Oh well,” Alana whined. “Fine. Nice meetin’ ye Milord Alden,” she beamed, then turned and walked away, putting that stretched pants to good use.
“Right,” Lucius commented after she was out of earshot. “She’s a character.”
“In what way?” Faye probed, not very amused.
Lucius scratched the back of his head. He needed a haircut, he decided.
“Nothing in particular comes to mind.”
“How’s the shoulder?” Faye asked to change the subject. She’d closed the distance between them in the meantime. Other than the warrior relaxing deep in thought across the street, they were alone.
“The cut wasn’t deep, but it’s bothering me, now that you brought it up.”
“I just wanted to get her off me back,” Faye explained.
“I understand.”
“Try to ease them in,” she continued.
“Faye, I don’t mind. You do what you think is best.”
“I’m coming wit ye in the raid.”
Lucius blinked, taken by surprise.
“No you’re not,” he replied sternly.
It wasn’t going to work.
“I am. Me mind is made up. Ayup,” Faye argued.
“That’s no place…” He sighed. “Forget about it. You’re not coming.”
He made it even worse.
Faye stood in front of his face. Well, her forehead was to his chin, but what she lacked in height, the woman had in ferocity.
“Yer not goin’ to order me around Alden!”
“I’m not… I’m trying to protect you damn it!” Lucius retorted. “It’s a dangerous idea.”
“Who’s going to protect you?” She countered. Lucius clenched his jaw. Thought about kissing her, which wasn’t helping him come up with a better response.
“I can’t have my mind on you in the field, Faye,” he said tiredly.
“Then don’t,” she replied and touched his beard. The fingers snaking up to his cheek. “You need a bath.”
“I’ll clean up in a bit. I have to talk to the Jarl,” he lifted her chin up, stared into her eyes. “You’re not going to back down,” Faye shook her head right and left.
Ah, Lucius thought. There it is then.
“What?” Faye asked seeing his expression.
“A woman you can’t control is dangerous.”
Faye stood back. “Ye don’t believe that.”
He didn’t. These were his father’s words.
Lucius sighed. “What will you do?”
“I can scout for you. Use the warband to find a good path. You need a local Lucius,” she blushed saying his name. He didn’t mind. In fact, Lucius liked it so much he found himself kissing her in the middle of the street.
Faye stopped him, even more flushed than before. “I tell you what. We practice, so I can show ye my skill.”
“I know you’re skilled,” Lucius said. The last thing on his mind was crossing blades with her.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Let’s make a wager,” Faye said. “I beat you and I get to be yer scout, wit no complains.”
“If you win, I’ll have an armour made for you, on top of that,” Lucius replied with a grin.
“What’s wrong wit this one?”
“It’s too worn out. All broken rings and patches. Better to have you in a better one.”
Faye cooed softly. “Aww you… fine,” she looked around and then sighed deeply. “See what ye did now? It’s not fair. If ye win, I’ll sleep in yer cabin. But I’m not missin’ the raid.”
Lucius smacked his lips.
“I can’t take this offer,” he said with difficulty. “I want to, but it’s not fair.”
“Why?”
“You’ll never win,” he explained. “I’ve studied your technique. I’m honor bound to tell you upfront.”
“Hehe. Oh Alden. Ye got to learn to take advantage of people,” Faye advised him, chuckling with his expression.
“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” Lucius replied truthfully. “Much as I want to.”
Faye took a step back and unsheathed her swords, one after the other. “I won’t mind if you did is what I’m telling you. Now, show me yer moves.”
Oh boy, Lucius thought and got his blade out. His worry was how to avoid hurting her. Suggesting they use wooden swords, was something Faye would turn down immediately.
Faye hissed and swung at him first left, then right in turn, using both her leaf-shaped blade swords. The weapons shorter and lighter than Lucius’ longsword. He parried them both away, taking a step back and Faye rushed him all flushed, the skin on her neck matching her hair.
She gasped frustrated, her successive slashes easily parried and narrowing her eyes, swung with both blades at the same time, rather carelessly. Lucius took a quick step back dodging her wild swing, waited for the furious woman to step forward to find her footing and sent the sword Faye had in her left hand to land on the dirt road, with a swing of his.
“What?” Faye glared at him. “What are ye grinning for?”
“I’m not,” Lucius replied grinning.
“I was holding back!” Faye snapped. Lucius took a casual step forward to cut on their distance. “Yer not winning without a fight, Alden!” She roared, her blood on fire and raised her right hand intending to go for a powerful slash, or cut. Lucius didn’t think Faye was aiming at that moment. He flicked his own sword mirroring hers, but in one tenth of the arc and got her under the iron pommel with the flat of his blade. Metal sound ringing down the street. Faye’s fingers turned numb and the sword jumped out of her hand with enough momentum to reach the wall of the longhouse, where that warrior was watching them, but Lucius snatched it out of the air the next moment to prevent an accident.
“Bah! Ye cheated!” Faye cried out holding her right hand. More angry than hurting hopefully.
“How’s the hand?” Lucius asked, concern in his voice. “Never approach a taller opponent like that Faye.”
“How am I supposed to fight ye then?” Faye queried. “Wear sandals wit heels?”
Lucius would love to see Faye in a Lorian dress or a sheer summer toga.
“You’re not. I don’t want to fight ye Faye.”
“Ye know what I meant,” she murmured and sighed. “Two out of three?”
“I’m not risking an injury for a dare,” Lucius stopped her. “We switch steel to wood, if you want us to practice proper.”
This hadn’t come out as good as he’d liked to.
Faye chuckled not minding the double entendre.
“I want to learn that trick and any other,” the redhead said with a naughty ambiguous smile, the white-haired warrior’s snort breaking their moment. Lucius turned to glare at the approaching mail armored man. The Northman had a longsword out, sharpened blade gleaming.
What in the name of Tyeus?
“Logan what do ye want?” Faye snapped, sounding irritated as well. “Put that thing away!”
Logan, skin full of cracks and old scars grunted and moved his sword in a tight arc, his other hand smacking at the pommel from below. He had his icy blue eyes on Lucius all that time. He grunted and repeated the move.
Lucius frowned.
“Logan ye crazy bastard, go away now. Yer not makin’ any sense,” Faye urged him.
Logan snorted, made a couple of guttural sounds, his throat all messed up from his bout in the icy waters of Ludriver and pointed his sword at Lucius.
“You want me to try it on you?” Lucius asked, realizing what the maimed warrior was trying to say.
“What? No, yer not fighting him!” Faye gasped, sounding worried. “Crawl back into yer hole Gray!”
Logan Gray Barret threw her a glare. Lucius took a step back and unsheathed his longsword again. He stared at the waiting warrior. “I’ll count to three,” he told him, but Logan growled in the mockery of a snigger.
“No, put that blade away Alden!” Faye snapped doubly worried. “He’s fuckin’ crazy!”
“As you wish,” Lucius said and snapped his sword at full speed, with a quick forward step. He caught Logan’s blade at the pommel with the flat of his blade again, the tip opening his mail at the wrist and send it out of his numb fingers. Lucius made to grab it with his left, but Logan beat him to it, snatched it out of the air, flipped it once expertly and let it rest on Lucius’ exposed neck, right under his left ear.
Lucius own blade was pointing at the warrior’s stomach, although Logan did have a vambrace on it. The Heir to Regia smacked his lips frustrated and Logan pressed the tip of his blade on the soft skin, nicking him and drawing blood.
“I can gore you, mister Barret,” Lucius warned him and Logan snorted in response, his eyes telling Lucius he’d kill him first. Lucius yielded and withdrew his sword, Logan doing the same right after.
The white-haired prematurely aged warrior, returned it to his sheath and eyed them both reproachfully, but mostly Lucius.
“You’re left handed,” Lucius said and the man made another guttural sound that turned into a snort. “Either. Wow,” Lucius nodded and stared at a dumbfounded Faye. “It was a trick, never try it in battle,” he told her and Logan nodded as well, now pleased. Lucius turned and stared at him for a moment, then tended a hand in greeting in the Northern way.
“I’m Lucius Alden,” he told him simply. “Heard a lot about you Logan,” Lucius added with a smile. Nothing pleasant, but he left that part out. “Thank you for your input,” he added sincerely.
Logan pressed his mouth tight, grimaced and then shook his hand. The grip steely, but Lucius gave as much as he took without flinching. Logan grunted, doubly pleased and with another intense stare at Faye, turned and walked away.
“A good friend?” Lucius probed, a troubled Faye.
“Benton killed his brother in a duel, when I was little,” Faye replied. “Barret’s warband raided our lands and killed my father, caught me in the chaos,” Lucius frowned at the senseless violence. “He didn’t let them kill me, or worse.”
“What happened after that?” Lucius asked.
“Benton thought he owed him, Logan believed they were even,” Faye replied, hugging her body with her arms.
Right.
“Now Benton is gone,” Lucius replied with a grimace. He still felt guilty with what he’d done. It wasn’t his fault, but you don’t take a life and feel good about it. Lucius didn’t want to become that kind of man. “And I stand in his place. Will he be a problem?”
“Nah,” Faye replied with a shrug. “He likes ye Alden. Give him enough time and he’ll fight for ye. It’s yer fuckin’ superpower.”
The legends said that when Jarl David was young, he’d managed to get inside Halfostad in Sovya and keep its gates open long enough by himself, for his men to sack the city. When King Alistair broke through at Yepehir in seventy four, the Crulls reinforced by Lesia led a force beyond the burning Kas intending to cut him off there. Jarl David retreated to Rifjordal with the Crulls and Lorians hot on his trail. At the banks of the frozen Fjor River, in the heart of winter, he turned around with his small force and fought the High King’s army to a bloody standstill in the last battle of the war.
For the three Kingdoms that is.
Jarl David had never stopped fighting in the years since.
Whether tall tales, fanciful exaggerations, or absolute myths, the man still cut an arresting figure well into the fifth decade of his life. Standing over six feet, with a broad chest protected by heavy chainmail and a thick neck, he kept his huge war-hammer on the table for all to see. His blue eyes and greying red hair combed back from his hard face.
He smirked when Lucius entered the longhouse. Sam O’ Dargan his second son and heir after the death of his firstborn at the Battle of the Bridges, was standing on his right side and a hard-eyed lanky man full of quiet energy stood on his left. Oscar Steele of icy Blonden Port, had everything under his eyes painted white and had a short shafted halberd on his back.
“This is Sir Lucius Alden father,” Sam rustled introducing him. He paused unsure and then added. “And Faye Numbers.”
“Alistair’s firstborn in the blasted flesh,” Jarl David crackled, baritone voice with heavy Northern accent bouncing off the walls. “I expected ye to be halfway to Regia by now. Take advantage of the weather.”
“Jarl David, I’ve a mission to fulfil,” Lucius replied undaunted. “And I came to an arrangement with your son, I intend to honor.”
“Raid over Ludriver, to Krakenhall,” the Jarl taunted and got up from the table and walked towards him. He had Lucius height, but was heavier, his face lined and scarred from cold, wars and age. A very crude drawing of the area was depicted on a large bear pelt hanging from a wall. The Jarl pointed a finger at it. “There are three forts in between us and a heavy-flowing river, Sir… Lucius. Am I getting it right?”
“Sir Lucius is fine, Jarl David,” Lucius replied, keeping his cool. “The rest of it as well, for the most part.”
“How are ye gonna do it?” The Jarl mocked him. “Wit yer boats and fancy armor? Kids wit slings?”
“Lucius is a great leader!” Faye snapped and Lucius grimaced, as he didn’t want to antagonize the Jarl. Jarl David turned his eyes on the much shorter than both of them Faye bemused.
“Numbers lass has grown Steele,” the Jarl said. “She might come for her father’s lands soon.”
“She has,” Oscar agreed with a leer. “I don’t see her succeeding.”
“Are ye gonna cause me trouble, Faye?” The Jarl asked her. “Yer brothers would turn in their graves, seeing ye defend their killer.”
“Better him, than havin’ a sneaky bastard like Steele at my table!”
“Yer brother started it, Faye,” Oscar retorted. “Staying loyal matters. Remember that.”
“She’s a hot-headed lass, Oscar,” Jarl David admonished him. “No need for threats.”
“Jarl David, Faye has nothing to do with this,” Lucius intervened. “As for what you said. I fought legitimately, after I was provoked. Please refrain from insulting me,” he warned him.
The ruler of Fetya smirked.
“Ah, it’s the truth I reckon,” the Jarl agreed. “Yer not spineless at least,” he added pleased. “What do ye think Steele?”
“I’ll refrain from answerin’,” the man replied, using Lucius’ word. “Until after I hear the plan.”
“It’s a raid they don’t expect,” Sam said, deciding it was a good time to intervene. “We need to retaliate father!”
Jarl David snorted and turned to look at the map.
“The moment you cross into Vanzon’s lands, the Crulls will cross the Montfoot Bridge and attack us,” he finally said. “I have barely two thousand men to stop them there son. What you have and are eager to waste away, I need.”
“These are my men,” Sam argued, standing up furious.
“We need time to replenish our forces,” the Jarl continued, not minding his outburst. “Make more weapons, wait for iron and supplies from Rifjordal. I’m still burying bodies’ son.”
“The Crulls have forces rebuilding Wolvesbane Castle. They won’t move until they finish work there,” Sam argued.
His father grunted not convinced.
“You want a fort built near this bridge of yours,” the Jarl said to him and Lucius stared at the map. “A fort won’t hold them, if they cross into Fetya proper Lucius.”
“I want to delay them there again,” Lucius replied calmly.
“Vanzon will use birds, ask for help,” the Jarl countered. “Even if you stop them there, the Crulls will reinforce him again, catch you on the other side of the river, just like at Stag’s Doab.”
“That wasn’t my plan,” Lucius argued.
“Why did you get involved? If it was such a bad plan, why risk it?”
“I watched what they did. I’d sworn to my father I’ll bring Zofia back and bring the North close with Regia. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Zofia…” the Jarl grimaced. “She’s gone Lucius.”
“Curd would have taken her to Vanzon,” Lucius argued.
“The Lord of Krakenhall would have contacted me, if he had,” Jarl David said.
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“All other prospects,” the Jarl sighed. “I don’t want to think about.”
“They wouldn’t hurt her.”
“They killed a girl that looked like her to provoke us at the bridges!” The Jarl snapped angry. “You think the Issirs would have constrained themselves… the moment Devious Dirk took her, she was dead.”
Lucius stood back with a frown. He stared at the map again deep in thought.
“Father,” Sam tried again. “They are weakened now, Kaltha is fighting another war, by the next season everything could change.”
“If you get caught between two forces,” the Jarl replied. “Even if I give you another thousand men on top of your eight hundred, you won’t have the numbers to get out of it. I can’t lose another son.”
“Jarl David says we lost? Is that it?” Sam rustled frustrated.
“I’m sayin’ I don’t see the benefit son,” Jarl David argued tiredly. “They have the numbers.”
Lucius listened to their argument still staring at the map, an awed Faye looking at him silently. Lucius’ eyes run over the bridges and the forts, the ‘great old river’ and its branches. They stopped at Stag’s Doab and remembered Roderick dying there, fighting a battle they couldn’t win. He heard those present talking about fighting another, even more weakened now, than they were back then. Hard men can hide their fear. Sometimes it’s brave to know you can’t overcome the odds.
Other times like this one, fear could blind you and never realize every battle is different.
“You won’t fight them together,” Lucius said interrupting the heated discussion inside the longhouse. Jarl David turned with narrowed eyes to glare at him.
“Can ye see the future, spawn of Alistair?” He taunted, his patience running thin. “Are ye goin’ to use magic to prevent them from helping each other? The recent past tells me they will.”
“Are you finished?” Lucius asked him sternly and the Jarl took a step back stunned. Oscar Steele’s painted jaw and mouth split into an amused grin, impressed at Lucius spirit.
“Go on, Lucius of Alden,” the Jarl said through his teeth.
“I can’t see the future,” Lucius started pointing at the map. “Nor do I possess magic. I can see the ground though and the terrain. I can see the rivers and the bridges the Crulls will have to cross mid-winter to help Vanzon. This isn’t Stag’s Doab. It isn’t next door to them. It isn’t comfortably situated between the two.”
There was a grin on Sam’s mouth as well now.
“The Crulls will have to choose Jarl David. Can’t have it both ways. Either they hold the Montfoot Bridge, even cross it to attack deeper in Fetya, whatever that will give them, or they’ll send an army to Krakenhall. Can they do both? They could. What do you think will be their priority?”
“Securing their border,” Oscar Steele replied in Jarl’s stead. “Keeping an eye on the Montfoot.”
“Probably sent Bas Rangers to Ludriver Castle,” Sam added. “That’ll be a journey and a half.”
“A force can check them there and the fort will warn Mazza if they come the other way,” Lucius continued confidently. “Whatever they sent to help Vanzon won’t magically appear next to his forces. When it does, we can defeat it. We can defeat them both in detail, one after the other.”
Jarl David looked at him. “Yer not talking about a raid,” he rustled and you could hear a pin drop inside the room.
“I never had, your people did,” Lucius replied. Just like they assumed a military unit was a warband and a campaign’s goal would automatically be a raid.
As mentioned previously, where others saw defeat and feared what the enemy will do, the failures of their past a heavy ball-chain weighing them down, Lucius recognized he could rip their opponent’s heart out. There is no other time, nor a better moment. Kaltha would never be so distracted ever again.
Act now, Lucius had thought while staring at the map, and turn this war on its head.
While the Realm was in turmoil, no one paid attention on what was happening in the North. Lucius, having recovered from the Battle of the Bridges, reorganized his small force and then stricken a deal with the O’ Dargans. He crossed Ludriver into Kaltha next, alongside ‘Mad Wolf’ Sam in the most daring campaign of the war, up until that point. He did it in heavy winter, with all logic pointing that it was a feint, something to distract from the Jarl’s real intentions. A foolish desperate gamble of a disillusioned young noble, who’d bitten off more than he could chew.
Lord Sirio Veturius
The Fall of Heroes
Chapter II
(King Lucius the third,
Northern campaigns,
Tigers in the Blizzard- A hundred days)
Winter-Spring of 190 NC
