Horizon of War Series

Pandora's Shard

Lansius

Sir Stan’s entrance into the command tent, carrying a blonde woman wrapped in a blanket in his arms, startled Lansius and Audrey. Behind him, Francisca and Sir Harold watched closely, likely sensing something urgent was happening.

"She’s awake?" Lansius asked, his gaze fixed on Sir Stan, who wore a nervous grin while cradling a pale blonde woman in his arms as if she were a fragile treasure.

The woman mumbled faintly, covering her eyes with one hand. "Put me down… and it’s Valerie."

"Valerie?" Lansius muttered, his mind racing with questions, but Sir Stan’s commanding voice cut through the moment. "I can’t let you down; you can barely open your eyes. We need a healer." He turned sharply to Lansius. "Where’s last night’s mage? Maybe she can do what Cascasonne’s mages couldn’t."

Lansius turned to Sir Harold, his voice urgent. "Fetch Ingrid and the camp physician for us."

"Right away," Sir Harold replied before hurrying off.

Audrey stepped in, her tone decisive. "Francisca, bring my daybed here." Then, glancing at a guard stationed outside, she added, "Get someone to bring boiling water from the kitchen—quickly!"

The guard ran off, and Francisca rushed to the inner part of the tent. With ease, she carried the daybed back in as Lansius helped her place it in the center. The blonde woman stirred, seeming to protest, but Sir Stan dismissed her concern. "We’re not losing you again. Stay awake—they’ve all been waiting for you," he said gently, easing her onto the daybed.

"Who...?" she whispered, her voice faint and weak, her eyes barely open to slits.

"Hannei, it’s me," Lansius said without hesitation, too worried to reach for her hand.

"That voice—" Her eyes lingered unfocused for a moment before her expression grew dazed.

"Not good. She’s disoriented," Lansius muttered, touching her forehead and finding it cool to the touch. "We need honey and salt."

"I’ll get them. We have those," Audrey said, moving swiftly toward the inner part of the tent.

"Can I help with anything?" Sir Stan asked while Francisca stood by, ready to assist.

"I don’t suppose the castle has a device to transfer blood from one person to another?" Lansius ventured as he retrieved a clean silver goblet and spoon from his traveling chest.

"Wow, is that some high-tier magic or something? I don’t know anything about that," Sir Stan replied, regret thick in his voice as he glanced away.

"Lans, what is--" Hannei murmured, her unfocused eyes darting across his face as she struggled to form the words. "What are you trying...?"

"Ideally, an IV transfusion, but we don’t have that, so you’ll need to drink sugar and salt," Lansius explained, glancing around. Spotting Francisca, he said, "I need someone to tell the cook to prepare tasty porridge for three people."

"Three portions, right away," Francisca said and exited.

"Why three?" Sir Stan asked.

"I assume you haven’t eaten," Lansius replied. "And the other is for Audrey."

As if on cue, Audrey returned with her personal bag of supplies. "Here’s the honey and salt."

"Good," Lansius said, taking the items to the table. He scooped a generous amount of honey into the goblet, added a pinch of salt, poured in some water, and stirred it vigorously.

"Hot water," one of the squires announced, entering with an earthen jug. Sir Stan took it and set it on the table. Lansius poured a measure into the goblet and stirred again.

"Not going to add anything else?" Audrey asked.

"No, this is enough for now." Lansius tasted the mixture, ensuring it was warm but not scalding hot. The sweet and salty flavor was just right.

He brought the goblet to Hannei as Sir Stan propped her head to help her drink. She hesitated at first.

"It’s just honey and salt," Lansius assured her.

Slowly, she took a sip, struggling to suppress a cough.

"Drink it all," Audrey encouraged, gently holding Hannei’s hand.

Hannei complied, finishing the drink and breathing heavily afterward, as if she had just run a sprint. Moments later, beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

"That’s a good sign," Lansius said, glancing around for something else he could do, only to come up empty.

Sir Harold returned, bringing Ingrid with him.

"My apologies, I was assisting the physician," Ingrid said as she entered.

"No need to explain. Please check on Lady Hannei," Audrey urged, motioning for her to come closer.

Ingrid stepped closer, her eyes widening as she assessed Hannei.

"Sir Stan," Lansius called. "Perhaps—"

"Yes, I get it. Guild stuff. I’ll wait at the field kitchen," Sir Stan said, patting Hannei’s arm twice before excusing himself.

Once he was gone, Ingrid spoke grimly. "She’s a mage, and she’s bleeding magic—badly."

"We heard that two Cascasonne mages tried to heal her," Lansius informed her.

"The relationship between a mage and the source is like a one-way river," Ingrid explained, still in shock. "The source flows into the mage, enabling magic. But for her, it’s as if the flow is reversed—it’s bleeding away, draining her magic." She hesitated, her brow furrowing deeply as she placed a hand over Hannei’s abdomen. "I believe the two mages who tried to help only ended up exhausting themselves." Her voice dropped. "This is critical."

Audrey’s expression turned bitter, but she admitted, "That explains what I see."

"Is this fatal?" Lansius asked, his voice measured but strained, every syllable betraying his deep concern.

Ingrid glanced at him, her hesitation clear, her tone apologetic. "I’m not equipped to handle this."

"Tell me," Lansius whispered, the words heavy with suppressed emotion. "Does being drained of magical energy cause death?" He couldn’t afford to lose her—not when she was the only one who shared his memories of Earth.

"It shouldn’t, but in her case, it’s sapping her strength—even her body heat."

At the mention of body heat, Audrey took another blanket she had worn earlier and gently draped it over Hannei, adding another layer of warmth. She caressed Hannei’s hand, trying to build up warmth through touch. Hannei responded with a faint smile, her weak fingers gripping Audrey’s tightly.

"There must be something," Lansius pressed.

"I’ll try sending what magic I have to calm her source," Ingrid said, focusing intently as she began building her magic. Lansius could feel the subtle disturbance in the air, like a faint ripple.

"Ingrid, that could be dangerous," Audrey said, her concern evident.

Ingrid turned her gaze to Audrey, then to Hannei, whose eyes were closed, before returning to Audrey. "How important is she to you?" Her sharp gaze demanded to know if risking her life was truly necessary.

The question wasn’t directed at Lansius, but it troubled him. Audrey, however, was able to articulate what he had been thinking. "She’s important, but even she wouldn’t want you to risk yourself for her."

Ingrid exhaled deeply but didn’t share her decision. Instead, she took Hannei’s hand and said, "We need a full body check."

"I’ll be outside," Lansius said, taking the cue. His eyes locked with Audrey’s. "Let me know if you find anything," he said. She promised without a word.

"Lans," Hannei pleaded weakly, her voice barely above a whisper as if caught in a dream.

"Just for a moment," he assured her softly.

"The name... you asked... it’s Valerie," she murmured, her words trailing off.

"No, no," Lansius replied with a faint chuckle. "That’s a red flag, you know," he tried a joke that only they understood.

For the first time, Valerie managed a faint smile. Their bond, forged by circumstance, was truly unique. With a heavy heart, Lansius turned and walked away.

...

The field kitchen bustled with activity, the clatter of pots and murmurs of conversation filling the air with a sense of warmth so far from home. There, Lansius joined Sir Stan, more out of respect than hunger. Having already had breakfast, he opted for a small bowl of stew. He spotted Mother Arryn and Tanya nearby, busy with their tasks. He waved briefly, his heart aching with longing, but duty came first.

Seated at a separate table surrounded by guards, Lansius, despite his deep concern for Hannei, decided to broach the topic of their situation. "How are Cascasonne’s defensive capabilities?"

"The castle itself is in good condition. We’ll start excavating the ditch and make some small repairs," Sir Stan replied, eating a hearty porridge with chunks of meat. "The most pressing issue is manpower. Lord Bengrieve puts too much faith in his walls and alchemist."

"Well, in his defense, nobody thought half of Midlandia could raise a 9,000-strong army," Lansius commented.

"The Saint’s fanatics," Sir Stan muttered grimly. "That’s this House’s biggest blunder." He then gazed at Lansius, his tone firm and emphatic. "And now, it’s your problem."

"Mine?" Lansius furrowed his brow.

"The Saint’s headquarters, the hill monastery, is located in the land you now occupy—several days’ travel south of Lubina."

Lansius sighed deeply and then lamented, "Victory is beginning to taste sour."

Sir Stan chuckled. "Come on, it’s not that bad. You’re now a lord of half of Midlandia."

Stolen novel; please report.

"More like a third," Lansius corrected lightheartedly, not wanting to appear ungrateful.

Sir Stan snorted, the breeze stirring around them and fluttering the field tent’s flaps overhead. Despite the heart-wrenching situation with Hannei, the day turned strangely pleasant. The encampment itself was largely insulated from the grim reality outside. Only the occasional gust carried the faint, lingering stench of death. Beyond the perimeter, captured men labored with grim efficiency—digging, stripping valuables, and hauling the dead to a mass burial pit at the edge of the forest.

The Midlandian native took another spoonful of porridge before leaning closer. "You know, Ornietia is as good as yours. Since you helped Toruna, I’ll return the favor. I’ll declare that Cascasonne urgently needs more men and order the Ornietia garrison here. Then, I’ll transfer command of that barony to you instead of leaving it in a vacuum."

Lansius squinted, his gaze narrowing. "Are you sure? That’s worth an entire barony."

"It’s not free," Sir Stan said with a smirk. "Give me the land and towns around Toruna so the estate can expand."

"Ah, you’re enlarging Toruna," Lansius remarked. "It’ll be as large as barony."

"It’s been on my mind for some time. Bengrieve knows and will agree. And if he asks for compensation for Ornietia, I’ll pay out of my own pocket."

Lansius nodded, understanding the offer but hesitating to commit, as it was likely against the rules. A fief was usually granted along with peerage; it wasn’t something expanded but bestowed by the monarch.

"What do you say?" Sir Stan asked.

"I’ll think about it."

"No rush." Sir Stan munching the last bite of his crunchy bread, now half-soggy from porridge. He washed it down with water and shifted topics. "So, what’s the war plan? Tell me, do you intend to go against Lubina?"

Lansius mulled it over before answering, "Frankly, I’m against besieging Lubina."

"I sort of expected that," Sir Stan stated calmly. "You came here to help, and your part of the deal is done."

"I have bad blood with Reginald," Lansius reassured him. "However, my logistics won’t sustain a prolonged siege. Lowlandia isn’t exactly grain rich after all the wars. On top of that, we’ve discovered that most of the neighboring Midlandian cities have empty granaries."

Sir Stan nodded thoughtfully, his expression shifting as though he had something to add but decided against it. "So, if you can’t pursue Lubina, what’s next?"

"I’ll find a new stronghold to watch over Lubina and the Saint’s fanatics. I doubt we can let them run amok. I’ll also send another battle group to Toruna to help with its defense."

"Gratitude, but are you sure you can spare that many?" Sir Stan asked, concerned.

"I have to. Toruna is the only place I trust to hold against Edessa if they attack."

"Edessa..." Sir Stan muttered. "You’re right to read that far. They’re going to be a problem."

"Toruna is going to play an important role," Lansius added.

"A roundabout way of saying it’ll become a battlefield," Sir Stan smirked. "All the more reason to enlarge it. My neighbor has a castle commanding the provincial road. That would be a great place to prepare defenses."

Lansius nodded. "I’ll send someone I trust to check it out. But what do you think are the chances of open conflict with Edessa?"

Sir Stan stroked his chin, his sharp eyes fixed on the walls of Cascasonne. "They’ve been fat for too long. I doubt they’ll waste this opportunity," he remarked.

Lansius massaged his forehead. "So I’m looking at a war with the remaining New Midlandian Houses, Saint fanatics, and Edessa—"

"Now I see why Bengrieve offered you so much," Sir Stan said with a chuckle. His tone shifted, growing serious. "That’s why you shouldn’t feel bad about taking over Ornietia." He paused before adding, "And it’s also why I decided to give you the new weapons."

Sir Stan motioned to his entourage, who approached carrying two wooden boxes. The sight immediately drew attention in the field kitchen area.

Lansius watched as Sir Harold promptly escorted the crates with his men, exercising an abundance of caution.

"My Lord," they greeted Lansius before proceeding to open the boxes.

Lansius inspected the muskets carefully, admiring their fine craftsmanship. He examined the trigger mechanisms, ensuring there were no signs of sabotage. The set also included powder horns and maintenance toolkits.

"Do you want to try them?" Sir Stan asked.

"I’ll test them thoroughly later," Lansius replied, setting the last musket back into the box, where it lay snugly cushioned in dry hay.

"Noted," Sir Stan said, motioning for his men to leave the crates, which were now under the care of Sir Harold’s men.

"It’ll be hard to accomplish much with only twenty pieces," Lansius commented.

"That’s as many as the Steward was willing to part with," Sir Stan replied.

Lansius nodded, glanced around to ensure they weren’t within anyone’s earshot and leaned closer. "I need you to send a letter to Lord Bengrieve and ask him, strongly, to keep this weapon a secret."

Sir Stan raised an eyebrow. "So now it’s not just my cousin putting secrets on all this, but you too. What’s your reason?"

Lansius inhaled deeply. "As I told you before, in my homeland, we’ve known these weapons for a long time. I fear they might bring sudden changes that could destabilize everything, especially with the Imperium already at its nadir."

"Lots of fancy words," Sir Stan replied with a soft smirk. "I need something more concrete to base my judgment on."

Lansius smiled, finding the request reasonable. "Sir Stan, what we have in hand is a weapon that’s easy to copy. One in every five blacksmiths could produce a cruder version, and it would still be effective. It’s less complicated than a suit of armor. With minor changes, it can pierce the best Centurian breastplates with ease. And we can train peasants to use it in just three days."

Sir Stan’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing and his jaw tightening.

"A world where everyone knows about this weapon," Lansius continued, "is a world where anyone with enough wealth and influence can topple a kingdom. In a place called Japan, fifty years was all it took for these to be produced in the hundreds of thousands, killing chivalry in the process. Who would train for ten years from youth, only to be struck down by a peasant who mastered this weapon in three days?"

Sir Stan stared at the table, silent for a moment before speaking. "I planned to take some to Toruna, thinking we might need them..." He turned to Lansius. "Is it that easy to reproduce?"

"It might look sophisticated, but the mechanism is simple. I could make it without even studying these," Lansius said, gesturing to the boxes. "I already have some parts prepared in Korelia, though no one knows what I’m making."

Sir Stan frowned. "If you’re making them, then why do you want Bengrieve to hide them?"

"The reason is simple," Lansius said firmly. "Survival."

Sir Stan’s gaze lingered as Lansius continued. "The risk of upheaval is too great, especially if Gottfried or the other two Eastern Kingdoms get wind of it. We must prevent that. However, I cannot rely on Bengrieve alone to act responsibly. That’s why I’m going to build a stockpile of my own. If Bengrieve ever resorts to using these, then the Shogunate will be prepared to confront the new reality."

Sir Stan drew a deep breath before nodding. "It seems you’ve thought this through."

"Ever since I came to power, I’ve been weighing this choice," Lansius explained. "I hope Bengrieve cooperates because the risk outweighs the benefit."

"I’ll persuade Bengrieve and ask the Steward to seal these weapons again."

"Count for everything. Hide the powder. With your men as the garrison, Cascasonne shouldn’t need them."

"Indeed," Sir Stan agreed. "With the city liberated, I can rally more men to keep the castle secure. Two hundred men should make it impregnable."

"Then we have an understanding." Lansius extended his hand.

Sir Stan took it, and they clasped hands firmly.

With this, Lansius mirrored the steps Tokugawa Ieyasu had taken in Japan after the Warring States period, which had seen a widespread proliferation of arquebuses and even cannons. Ieyasu implemented strict policies to regulate firearms. Production was limited to certain clans, and peasants were forbidden from using them. The goal was to prevent uprisings, as firearms were deemed too dangerous and could easily destabilize the government.

Lansius approached the issue as a preventive measure, hoping he wouldn’t need to rely on it. But he knew it was foolish to expect others to act nobly. The genie was already out of the bottle, and he wouldn’t be caught unprepared—not with Audrey, their child, and their allies at stake.

***

Nicopola

Late spring rains came with a vengeance, pouring down in torrential thunderstorms. The downpour turned roads into muddy quagmires, destroyed small bridges, and flooded riverbanks. The Dawn and Servius' Skull Legion’s cleanup around Kapua's region ground to a halt as movement became impossible. Both forces returned to their new headquarters: the Dawn in Kapua and Servius in Skodra.

The situation persisted for nearly a month until drier summer winds arrived in Nicopola. Once the roads improved, Sir Servius fulfilled his promises and visited Lord Avery with a select group of troops.

The host was more than pleased to welcome him into the city of Kapua.

“Lord Avery,” greeted Servius, a man with a hook for a hand and a slight limp, as he arrived in the freshly renovated Great Hall.

“Sir Servius, please,” Avery motioned him to a seat across from him at a long table. “How’s the road leading here? Care for some refreshment?”

"Still muddy, but it won’t stay that way for long," Servius replied as he scanned the table and spotted a bread pudding dusted with a sparkling white powder. “Pardon me,” he said, using his left hand to pick up a knife and carve a portion.

“Oh, spare me the formalities. You could eat with your toes, and I wouldn’t flinch,” Avery said, settling comfortably in his seat.

"Bless the Ancients that I still retain my hand," Servius quipped, amusing the host, while his squire finally arrived to assist.

The condottieri took a bite of the sugar-sprinkled pudding with visible pleasure, while Avery plucked a few raisins and had his squire pour him a pale ale. As they ate, the hall came alive with the clatter of utensils and the lively chatter of their retinues feasting merrily.

“This is extraordinary,” Servius commented. “Buttery, rich, fragrant—and this remarkable sweetness. Is this fine spice?”

Avery grinned. “Indeed. I found crates of fine spice stored in the castle cellar.”

“These mercenaries were eating well,” Servius remarked.

“Only for themselves,” Avery replied, a hint of disdain in his voice. “Meanwhile, the people in the city were left with scraps and leftover grains.”

Servius’ eyes grew inquisitive. “I assume we have enough confiscated supplies to ease the commoners’ plight?”

"Certainly. I’ve already distributed grains to the citizens. To conquer a city, you need to conquer people’s hearts as well, and that usually comes from a full belly,” Avery remarked without a hint of sarcasm.

Satisfied, Servius replied, “Forgive my curiosity, but what else did you find—gold and silver?”

“You’re welcome to visit for yourself after this. I haven’t tidied up the vault. Mind you, I only took enough for Sir Morton, his men, and Lord Lansius.” Avery held his gaze on Servius, keen to see his reaction.

Servius found that funny and let out a smile. “That is important. We can’t afford to irritate that one."

Avery chuckled, pleased. The Lord of Korelia’s daring air assault was legendary. No one could believe that eight men had managed to capture a walled city without a single casualty on their side. Naturally, rumors circulated that all eight were mages, fueling admiration and speculation.

“I heard you’ve also been entertaining delegations from the south?” Servius asked, finishing his pudding.

“Yes, they rode here after their caravan arrived safely in Dawn,” Avery replied dismissively, deeming them irrelevant to their current issues.

Servius leaned back, his iron hook resting on the table. “I heard rumors they were bringing you a crown.”

Avery snorted and laughed at the remark. "Words travel fast, indeed."

"Any truth to that?"

Old Avery put up a sly smirk as he leveled his gaze, reasoning, "If even the wise warlord of the desert, victor of many wars, doesn't declare himself king, why would I?"

Servius was gladdened by the answer but couldn’t help venturing boldly, “Why not? With the fall of the Imperium, I think many would be open to such a suggestion.”

"I'm too old to be blinded by the shine of gold and emeralds. A crown doesn’t interest me," the host explained. "All it would do is ruin my sweet position. Even with Kapua secure, I still have the Nicopola interior to worry about. Besides, I detest the risk of entering a three-front war."

Servius raised a brow, intrigued. "Care to elaborate?"

"Truthfully, the southern province is fraught with beastmen raids. Thus, they can’t provide anyone with any help. If I were to accept, they’d end up asking for my support instead. And that’s not even the worst of it. To their west, sooner or later, we’ll face nomadic incursions, which have grown deeper and bolder each season."

Servius nodded thoughtfully, stroking his whitened beard with his left hand.

"And lastly," the host continued, "I can’t afford to manage the troubles that may be brewing in Elandia. Not to mention, my alliance with your Lord of the Steppes remains unproven until the caravan reaches Navalnia and returns safely."

"Mmm... Threats from the south, west, and north," Servius muttered, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Avery’s decision seemed only natural, and Servius appreciated his candor about the situation. "No wonder you're granting me control over a large swath of land, including Skodra."

"Yes," Avery replied softly. "I want you to manage the Elandia border since your Lord is still nominally in good standing with Lord Bengrieve. Mind you, I also have a piracy issue on my coast, which might or might not be tied to the Corinthia Barony. It’s still under investigation." He fixed his gaze on the horizon for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. Then, turning back to Servius, he asked with a deceptively casual tone, "Sir Servius, while you’re here, do you know why he needs another airship for his campaign in Midlandia?"

Servius’ eyes widened, his pulse quickening. "I beg your pardon? Who is campaigning in Midlandia?"

"You didn’t know?" Avery leaned back, clearly relishing the moment. "There was an assassination attempt on Lord Lansius. It failed, but blood was spilled. His last letter mentioned that the campaign had begun. Naturally, I gave him my support, but the airship departed without flaming naphtha. That made me curious about what he intends to do with it. Unless..."

"Two ships, full of his special groups," Servius ventured, his voice low.

Avery grinned, clearly entertained that Servius had reached the same conclusion he had. "Precisely."

"I pity the one who challenges him," Servius muttered grimly, shaking his head as Avery laughed heartily.

"I can’t even begin to wrap my head around this madness," Avery admitted. "First the Sages in the Capital, and now the Midlandians. They’re charging headlong into the fire. Like the Capital, this too will end in ashes for Midlandia—and from those ashes, a young Black Lord will claim a land worthy of his talent. Tell me, Servius, doesn’t that excite you?"

Servius blinked, taken aback. "Excite me, My Lord?"

"Indeed," Avery said, his lips curling into a faint smile. "We stand at the fall of the Imperium—something our great-grandfathers dreaded and feared but never believed would happen again. I strengthened my soul to accept that, for generations to come, my descendants would be consumed by endless war over the Imperium’s decaying body. But now..." He paused as if savoring the thought. "We might even live to see the Fourth Imperium raise its banner to the winds."

Servius’ eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting from surprise to scrutiny. His voice grew cautious, almost disbelieving. "You can’t be ... considering."

"I am," Avery replied, his voice steady and resolute. "I’m old. My only wish is to see my granddaughter live in peace. And right now, the only path to that peace is the birth of another Imperium. I will see my House rise with it, standing as close to the sun as it burns."

***