Horizon of War Series

Chapter 180: Interregnum

Interregnum

Eastern Mansion

High-quality candles in the ornate chandelier generously lit the cream-plastered walls of the great chamber, their brilliant light stark against the darkening evening sky. Today, unlike usual, the mansion was devoid of the usual bustle of staff preparing for supper. Lansius had granted them a well-deserved break after a week filled with extra work to cater to the guests who attended the nomads' annual event.

He went further and chose to dine privately for a week to allow more kitchen staff to return home. Nevertheless, the castle's great hall remained open to cater to his retinue and other staff, with Calub and Cecile acting as hosts. Similarly, Sir Michael took charge in the Great Keep, accommodating the growing ranks of Korelia’s officers, recruits, and active military members.

Lansius readily helped Audrey on the wooden stairs, with Carla also ready to assist, but Audrey was as nimble as ever. Her pregnancy didn't seem to encumber her at all. The three of them entered the great chamber. Still feeling the effects of the kumis he had indulged in, Lansius experienced a warm burn lingering in his throat as his gaze landed on a newly arrived object placed on a wooden pedestal, ready for his inspection tomorrow.

"My Lord, My Lady," greeted one of the staff and a guardsman on duty.

"At ease, we're just checking the delivered item," Lansius said as he headed toward the bronze dish. Shaped like a deep bowl, it stood proudly on a pedestal, its smooth curving surface gleaming under the candlelight. Though solid, it wasn't heavy. He lifted it to marvel at the craftsmanship, noting it was slightly larger than a Greek aspis shield, famously worn by the Spartans.

At his side, Audrey and Carla waited attentively, their eyes bright with curiosity over the object.

"Ah," Lansius muttered as he checked the back where he had requested a mounting suitable for a wooden pole, and more importantly, a hole for the antenna along with the necessary fittings.

"Mm, this looks more complex than a fancy cauldron," Audrey observed. "What's the intended use?"

Lansius' gaze shifted from the metallic sheen of the bronze dish to his wife, adorned in a simple white kimono that draped elegantly over her form. The sight of her, so serene and lovely in her traditional Centurian attire, captivated him anew. Or perhaps it was the kumis playing tricks on his mind because she appeared much happier than usual, her smile sweeter than ever.

He shook his head slightly to clear the daze. "This is for..." he paused, realizing it was intended for the magical telegram, so he corrected, "It’s for the wooden tower, just an accessory."

"Oh," Audrey exclaimed softly. From the flicker in her eyes, Lansius could tell she understood it was related to magic.

Meanwhile, Carla, the guard, and the staff looked curious, yet they maintained their silence, knowing better than to meddle in their Lord and Lady's affairs unless asked.

"Let's install it tomorrow," Lansius added as he placed the bronze object back on the wooden pedestal.

"Then, shall I arrange for Francisca and Ingrid to come tomorrow morning?" Audrey offered.

"Yes, please. And also some carpenters who aren't afraid of heights," Lansius said with a smile.

...

The next morning, Lansius awoke with a slight hangover. He couldn't remember the details of the previous night, but a big smile lingered on his face.

Something about her in that Centurian kimono...

He had never realized just how pleasing to the eyes Audrey was, perhaps because he usually saw her dressed like a shield maiden. Only now did Lansius fully appreciate his wife's charm. Even thinking about it made his heart race. Thus, despite the hangover, he was in a good mood as he got out of bed and prepared for the day, remembering that he had summoned several people to discuss the bronze object.

As he exited the chamber, as usual, he spotted Audrey, who was always awake first, either reading or reviewing reports in the private hall adjacent to their chamber. "Morning," she greeted first.

"Morning," he replied, glad she was still wearing the white kimono and looked as sweet as last night, minus the blur of alcohol.

From around the corner, Francisca and Ingrid approached, with Margo following behind. It appeared they had been waiting for a while. "My Lord," they greeted in unison.

"My apologies for keeping you waiting; the kumis I drank last night was quite potent," Lansius admitted.

The two smiled, likely aware that their Lord wasn't known for his tolerance to alcohol.

"The carpenters you asked for are ready and waiting in the hall."

"Excellent, let's meet them," Lansius declared, and everyone headed to the hall. There, he explained to the carpenters what he wanted with the bronze dish: to remove the antenna from the pole and secure it in the center of the parabolic dish without severing the bronze cable wrapped in thick canvas.

After some preparation, they climbed the small wooden tower, aided by two guards on duty. Francisca decided to help and amazed everyone with her ease of climbing, moving like a large leopard ascending a tree.

In just over an hour, the bronze parabolic antenna was installed. Lansius led Audrey and Ingrid back to the upper floor hall where he switched a robust lever, connecting the new antenna to a thinner copper wire. This wire ended in a small copper clip that could be attached to a small object like an earring.

Ingrid took her seat facing the small, antique-looking desk and pulled open the drawer. Inside, she found a small, beautiful box containing Francisca's magical earring. With the help of the mirror on the desk, she put it on her right ear, then connected the wire and the copper clip to the earring. After receiving a nod from Lansius, she closed her eyes. Without needing further instruction, she began to search for Paulos, their contact in the Capital.

"Keep looking, I'm going to make some adjustments," Lansius said as he approached the window. He leaned out and spotted the carpenters and guards waiting on the tower. "Rotate it a bit to the left," he instructed.

"To the west, My Lord?" a guardsman asked from the wooden platform above, with Francisca acting as a safety overseer from the rooftop of the adjacent mansion.

"Northwest," Lansius clarified. "But do it very, very slowly."

They complied, and Lansius returned his gaze to Ingrid. He saw Audrey approaching and asked, "Do you think the bronze bowl will help?"

"I hope so," he exhaled. "There’s no guarantee, but since the bronze wire helps with the range, this parabolic shape should also work."

She licked her lips, muttering, "Sometimes I wonder how you know things like this."

"I studied a lot," Lansius said with a proud grin.

Audrey stifled a giggle, and the two of them settled into a soft bench to wait for Ingrid. They passed the time by carefully verifying the directions on the map, ensuring every detail was correct.

"It should be correct," Audrey reassured him. "I have traveled via the Capital and Elandia; they should be northwest of us."

Lansius nodded. "If Paulos is alive, then we should be hearing from him now, or tomorrow—"

"My Lord," Ingrid exclaimed, turning to them with a nervous smile before scribbling frantically on her wax tablet.

"You found him?" Lansius asked, already knowing the answer.

Ingrid recited the message she saw: "Green Yellow, Blue Wood, Red Green, Red Silver.

Wood Silver, Yellow Blue.

Green Silver, Red Wood, Red Green, Wood, Blue.

Silver Silver, Yellow Blue, Red Red."

Lansius and Audrey rose and approached her. "What's the translation for that?" Audrey asked, anticipation in her voice.

"Glad to hear you," Ingrid answered with a big sigh of relief.

Lansius chuckled while Audrey grinned, happy to know Paulos had survived. "It’s funny that we don’t even know what Paulos looks like, but we’re happy he survived," she commented.

"Our concern for others needs no acquaintance with their features," Lansius remarked poetically, and Audrey looked at him with delight.

Lansius quickly instructed the men on the tower to secure it in that position. Francisca continued to watch over them, her kind heart not wanting even the carpenters to fall.

Afterward, they allowed Ingrid to communicate freely. Soon, Lansius discovered several interesting facts.

"So, he escaped from the Capital," Lansius muttered from his seat.

"He said he's been reassigned to Elandia before the Capital fell," Ingrid clarified.

"Lucky him," Lansius said with a breath of relief.

"Get some information on Elandia," Audrey instructed gently. "Ask without arousing suspicion: With whom does he travel, and what will they try to do now that the Capital has fallen? Also, does he intend to stay in North Elandia, or will he try to seek refuge in South Elandia?"

Lansius understood her intention. South Elandia was now under Lord Bengrieve, and with the new Lord Reginald of Midlandia openly threatening Korelia, there was no other way for him but to stay loyal to his benefactor, at least externally.

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A hundred allies are too few, one enemy is too many.

***

Two days after they reestablished contact, Lansius had learned a great deal about the grim situation near the Capital. From Ingrid's exchanges, he captured Paulos' grief and desperation. In general, North Elandia was in no shape to act, even in the face of the Imperium's demise. There was no rallying, no movement to retake or secure the capital.

Instead, the local powers feared and expected the return of Gottfried's army. Worse, everyone seemingly suspected that other nobles had established backdoor channels to the new king.

"The only figure they could rely on was the old Duke Louis," Sir Omin explained as Lansius gathered a few for a meeting in the Eastern Mansion. The former Lord of Korimor was more knowledgeable and intimate with the delicate nature of Imperium politics.

Sir Omin continued, "However, despite being in his early fifties, he is not blessed with good health. Moreover, unlike his counterpart, Duke Alvaro of Centuria, who is diplomatically shrewd and decisive, Duke Louis is stoic and pessimistic."

"I heard the old Duke is generally not well-liked," Farkas commented without any reservation, despite the former lord's presence.

"Indeed," Sir Omin did not raise his brow but merely nodded in agreement. "The old Duke's untrusting nature led to inefficiency and political stagnation in the High Lord's Court. Those contributed greatly to the rise of the Sages in the Capital."

From their interaction, he could see that the two got along. He glanced at the last person, Sir Harold, who stood comfortably in silence. Without asking anyone in particular, Lansius asked, "So, what is the old Duke likely to do now in this situation?"

"Unfortunately, from what I know of him, he's likely worn out or has given up completely," Sir Omin predicted. "His swan castle in Tiberia may be formidable, but he lacks allies, and without the Imperium's support, everyone sees him as a lost cause."

Paulos and his small group of officials-turned-refugees probably thought the same thing. No wonder they decided to travel to South Elandia.

"Reports from travelers indicate that after last year's siege and the Imperium's doomed counterattack, the old Duke mostly stayed on his lands," Farkas reported. "He didn't seem to send his troops or try to establish a defensive line with his allies."

"He'll get surrounded again just like last year, and this time he has nobody to support or rescue him," Omin lamented in an irritated tone, likely disliking the powerful figure's incompetence.

Lansius sighed softly in his seat, muttering, "So now, North Elandia and the remaining Tiberia will likely be taken by Gottfried."

"Likely so, My Lord," Sir Omin agreed.

"I think we've overlooked the other party involved in this," Sir Harold said, breaking his silence and drawing everyone’s attention. "Lord Bengrieve is in South Elandia. With or without the Duke of Tiberia's support, it's unlikely for him to sit idle while Gottfried takes the rest of the province."

"That is true. However, he's still mired by the Midlandian succession," Sir Omin replied, and Sir Harold gave a small nod in acknowledgment.

Lansius exhaled and stood to his feet, signaling that the meeting was over. "Gratitude for your counsel. Let us adjourn this meeting until we find more news from the Elandian front."

Afterward, accompanied by his small entourage of a squire and a page, Lansius deliberately chose the long way to his study, needing to distance himself from the chaos unfolding in Elandia. From the window on the second floor, he saw the two knights part ways: Sir Harold and his staff rode east, likely to meet Sir Michael at the Great Keep, while Sir Omin headed west, presumably to the Castle to meet with Calub and Cecile.

They served respectively as his arms in civil and military matters.

Meanwhile, he failed to see Farkas, who seemed to have mastered traveling undetected, likely using a different door and route, fitting for his role as the acting Captain of the Black Bandits. The traveling minstrels he funded were now everywhere, spreading across many towns and baronies, collecting news and gossip, and verifying claims before relaying their reports through their growing network.

Lansius entered his study chamber, and Sterling immediately closed the door while the rest of the entourage waited outside. He sat down and began to prepare his ink, while Sterling diligently sharpened the quill pen.

Afterward, the squire prepared a clean silver goblet and poured water for him. Although Margo still held the position of cup-bearer, Lansius had decided that others, like Sterling and Carla, could also perform this role.

"Gratitude," Lansius said as he took a parchment from his drawer. He positioned it on the writing slope set atop the table to prevent the ink from blotting.

He inhaled deeply to clear his mind and began writing a letter to Dame Daniella. With the help of Lord Avery and with Lord Jorge's approval and support, they established another Hunter Guildsman in Three Hills. Now, their network of fast information was expanding, its reach only limited by the ability of hawks and horses to deliver messages.

Even with flying, the distance between the cities across the Great Plains was not trivial.

To Dame Daniella, he continued to answer her queries and guide her in dealing with the Moneylender Guild, now under his control. He aimed to transform it into something more significant than a mere money-lending operation.

He spent his time elaborating on his vision for the new guild, detailing policies and ideals.

Finished with that matter, Lansius continued with Sigmund's letters. The skald had sent good reports from South Hill, now expecting a bountiful harvest from the winter seeds. However, he also reported that while the realm appeared calm on the outside, it was brewing with tension internally. He had learned of an insidious plan and was asking Lansius for his advice and approval.

Lansius wrote back, expressing his confidence in Sigmund but cautioning him not to stir a beehive. If action was required, he preferred that the accused be brought to trial in Korelia under escort. However, he acknowledged that the situation might still escalate. Ironically, such an escalation would provide the justification they needed to use force to quell it.

He paused, reluctant to suggest further actions, as he disliked being manipulative when not facing an opponent on the battlefield. He believed that ruling should have a standard of transparency and fairness, or else his peers and populace would see him as untrustworthy. And history had plenty of examples of what happened to rulers with that kind of stigma.

Leaning back in his chair, he eyed several reports still requiring his decisions. Some he had read but had yet to act upon. "Paperwork," he muttered, prompting a smile from Sterling.

"Perhaps some refreshment, My Lord?" Sterling asked considerately.

"Nah, I'd better finish this before my mind refuses to," Lansius quipped. "Besides, even without the glory, this is way better than drawing blood on the battlefield."

***

Elandia

"So, I heard you have a mother or father with different eye or hair color?" Sir Munius asked Marc as they sparred in the woods.

"They're brown, like mine," Marc replied, swinging a broadsword at Munius, who could have easily dodged but chose to parry it instead as training for both of them.

A metallic clang and a spark occurred when their blades locked. "Keep it up," Sir Munius instructed, despite the slightly numbed feeling in his hand.

"But my sister, she's blond," Marc said, breathlessly continuing with another wide swing.

"I see," the knight exclaimed as he parried again. He made it look easy, but it was challenging even for an experienced knight like him. "So, your parents are from the north?"

"No, we don’t have any Northern ancestry," Marc replied as he unconsciously launched a murderous strike.

The knight parried the monstrous blow with all his strength, also recognizing what fueled the strike. He was slightly disappointed in Marc's answer but not surprised. After all, the Arvenian didn't possess the facial traits typical of Northerners, unlike his family. The truth was, that Sir Munius was a descendant of Northerners but concealed it, afraid that many would view him with suspicion or question his loyalty.

"Isn't the idea not to overdo the swing?" Marc asked, resetting his stance.

"That's for a common man with average power. But you, with your strength... Many will glance at your form and pose and decide you're nothing but a trainee, then fail to counter you properly," Sir Munius reasoned.

"I see," Marc responded and launched an overhead strike.

They continued their training until Marc grew tired.

"You said I'm stronger than normal, but am I really that strong?" he asked, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

Sir Munius grinned and pulled a handy axe from his belt, offering it to him with one hand. "One way to find out," he said, nodding toward the trees around them.

Marc took the axe, his face set with determination, and chose a tree about the width of a man. It was an old tree with dark brown bark and thick branches. Touching the bark, he found it firm but dry. He then prepared his stance and channeled as much strength from the ring to his arm. Without hesitation, he launched his strike, which cleaved deep and shook the tree as if a bear had pummeled it.

The display of strength surprised even Marc himself, his eyes widening in disbelief. Unfortunately, it also dislodged old, dying branches, along with ants cascading over his head.

Sir Munius laughed as Marc took several frantic steps back while desperately trying to remove leaves and reddish-colored ants from his hair and clothes. That moment of silliness marked the end of their training, and they headed back to their main group.

There, a situation had unfolded. Faces had become grim, the mood heavy. They saw Lady Sagaria sitting on a tree stump, conversing with a group of strangers who were likely fellow travelers but strangely wore fine clothes underneath their traveling cloaks.

Sir Munius approached their commander and asked, "What happened?"

Sir Bald Eagle turned to him and explained, "We just received word that the Capital has fallen."

"No way," Marc exclaimed, while Sir Munius displayed only a look of displeasure and bitterness. "Who conquered it? Gottfried?" he asked.

"No," the commander responded firmly. "It was a common men's rebellion from the west that also burned the palace to the ground."

The knight sighed, allowing Sir Bald Eagle to continue, "Best prepare your gear. I think we're going to march faster."

"Why, is someone threatening us?" Sir Munius asked, his eyes sharp.

"No, we have a new destination," Sir Bald Eagle revealed.

***

Lord Avery Dawn

It was a cloudy afternoon, and it looked like the rainy season had arrived in Dawn Barony. Inside the formidable-looking castle, Avery enjoyed a merry lunch with Ella, his favorite granddaughter. Despite her young age and slight build, the thirteen-year-old had a healthy appetite, much like his own.

Her health and appetite pleased him. Born with peculiar red hair, she was active, enjoying activities like riding, sword fencing, and she was quite adept with knives—not just kitchen knives but also a full-sized hunting knife. Ella had helped him in skinning and preparing game during the hunting season.

Their lunch consisted of roast chicken, skewered meat, and stir-fried vegetables, accompanied by white rice, as was customary in their land. As they ate, the chubby, friendly-looking Chamberlain, who was waiting in the chamber reading a book, received a missive from a newly arrived squire. He listened to the whispered report and nodded accordingly.

Avery took little interest and enjoyed his meal, aware that his duties often required him to be away for days outside the castle.

"My Lord, a hawk from Korelia has arrived," the chamberlain reported to Avery, without any sense of urgency.

Avery merely said, "Treat the bird well. They've earned some respite after all those flights."

The chamberlain bowed his head slightly. It was well known that the messenger hawks needed to regain their fat before their next flight.

Soon, Avery concluded his meal with a glass of clear rice wine, savoring its sweet taste and fragrance. "So, what's the message? Is it as grim as the last one?" he asked, prompting Ella to listen attentively.

"I doubt anything could be as bad as the last one," the chamberlain replied, referring to the news of the fall of the Capital and the Imperium. For two weeks, they had been receiving reports of the Capital's fall, including its unbelievable details from several of their allies.

"Our newest ally is ready to send another 100 warhorses," the chamberlain reported.

"That's pleasing to hear," Avery said, smiling as he sipped his rice wine.

"He also suggested trading twenty more warhorses for as much fuel as he could get. He wrote that he's building fuel reserves."

"Fuel reserves? So he actually likes the airship," Avery chuckled, prompting his daughter to smile.

"Perhaps you should entice him with our newest build?" she remarked wittily.

"That is a good suggestion," Avery replied, stroking his chin. Then, turning to the Chamberlain again, he said, "Twenty more horses for fuel. Not a bad deal. Let's give him what he wants, plus a transport fee."

The Chamberlain nodded and motioned for their scribe to write it down for the upcoming caravan.

"How's the report from the border?" Avery asked in a much more somber tone.

"Still the same, My Lord. Our men engaged another raiders' attempt last night."

Avery sighed deeply.

"There might also be a problem on the water crossing to Three Hills," the Chamberlain added cautiously.

"What about it?" Avery pressed.

"After a more thorough examination, I believe we're facing a piracy threat. The Corinthians, despite mostly being fishermen, are still Lowlandians by nature."

Old Avery rubbed his forehead but maintained his smile, so Ella wouldn't worry. He then muttered, "With the caravan already on the move from the west and piracy on the east, we can't afford any more risks."

"My Lord?" the Chamberlain asked, slightly nervous.

"I fear we've been too lenient with our actions," Avery declared firmly without raising his voice. "If these Sarmatians and Centurians can't get along with the Nicopolans locals and us, then there's no point in waiting. I'll have them accompany the Imperium in its demise."

Ella seemed to grasp the meaning, but her gaze remained unflinching.

Avery turned his gaze toward the chamberlain and said grimly, "It's the birth of a new era. Old problems should die with the old regime. If they're not with us, then they belong to the past."

***

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