Young Man’s Game
The air was thick with the sound of thunderous footsteps and rallying cries as Lord Robert’s men-at-arms charged toward the wooden fence. Though their stamina was failing and the enemy’s tactics unpredictable, their pride burned fiercely.
In the confined space, no more than a few men’s breadths, they hurled themselves against the sturdy gates with all their might, using their weight in place of a battering ram.
But the defenders were well-prepared. Armed with polearms and crossbows, they pushed back the attackers and made them pay a tremendous price.
Despite the sacrifices of eleven of their bravest, the two-meter-tall wooden fence remained seemingly impregnable. Bloodied by a persistent stream of crossbow bolts, they could only drag the wounded along with their retreat.
Deep in the trenches, they licked their wounds and prepared for the inevitable.
***
The wooden gate groaned as it swung open. Many of its posts were bent or pushed from their spots. The chipped and splintered wooden fence stood as a testament to the relentless assault of their opponents.
Lansius emerged from the gate in his battered grey brigandine, accompanied by his men who surveyed the scars of battle with him. “Hugo,” he called out with a weary yet resolute voice.
Hugo rested his crude halberd and replied, “Yes, boss?”
“Pick your best men,” Lansius commanded.
With a sigh of relief, Hugo turned to his men and rallied them. “Come on lads, for the finale.”
With Lansius and Thomas behind, Hugo led a contingent of his best men into battle. They quickly located Lord Robert’s exhausted troops and offered battle. An intense melee ensued, but it soon became clear that the opponent’s men-at-arms were on their last leg.
The once fearsome troops were reduced to a sorry lot. Their best fighters lay wounded or dead on the ground, leaving only the inexperienced ones to carry on. Their breathing was ragged, and their movements sluggish as the stifling heat and humidity drained them of their last bit of strength.
Trapped in the trench, with Lansius’ crossbowmen positioned to cut their escape, Lord Robert’s side had no choice but to surrender.
…
The deputy commander knelt before Lansius, casting aside his helmet adorned with a great plume. He offered his sword as a token of surrender. It should have been the marshal doing this, but word had it that he had lost an eye to shrapnel.
“I accept your surrender and guarantee the safety of your men who lay down their arms,” Lansius reiterated the words whispered by Sir Justin, who had just arrived from his front.
His men clamored as Lansius finished the words. They shouted victory in loud emotional voices and threw their fists in the air. Many of them looked at Lansius intensely and made him uncomfortable.
“VICTORY!” The word was repeated and echoed, spreading through the trenches like wildfire.
Eventually, the fighting ceased in all the trenches. The defeated had accepted their fate and surrendered their weapons.
Sir Justin conversed with the deputy commander, while Hugo, Thomas, and their men ensured security. Guarding numerous hostages wasn’t easy, but they were like assets waiting to be cashed in.
Lansius stood with Carla, his temporary adjutant, away from the limelight. Suddenly, the sound of hooves followed by a large shadow loomed over them. Carla instinctively drew her sword and readied her shield, but soon recognized the figure of a female cavalryman on the ground level.
She must’ve trotted along the trenches until she found me.
Lansius pulled his sallet off.
“So you survived?” Audrey asked as she opened her visor.
“You seem to be displeased?” Lansius retorted.
That made Audrey laugh so hard that her visor fell in a comedic manner, causing Lansius and his men to burst into laughter as well.
Before the laughter subsided, Lansius ordered Carla to fetch back the ladder. They carefully flew their banner first to avoid getting shot by the other trenches by mistake. Audrey was already present, so there was a low risk, but Lansius insisted just to be safe.
Lansius climbed up after Carla and witnessed the battlefield, which was littered with casualties. Across the grassy plains, many were groaning in pain. Some writhed, while a few calmly waited for the slow coming of death. The aftermath was always a sad scene.
Stolen novel; please report.
In the distance, the enemy’s retreat had turned into a rout. The decisive factor had been the great show of force by Audrey’s cavalry. They had made by forming a wide line, even though in truth, they only numbered twenty-seven riders. However, to the remaining enemy, their presence was evidently too much to bear.
On the other hand, Robert’s cavalry had left the field, unwilling to risk themselves by going near the trenches.
Lansius expected the rout, given the isolation of the enemy commanders and vanguard. The remaining levied men and armed villagers had little motivation, and the few knights and remaining men-at-arms had no choice but to retreat. Now, they no longer flew their banners.
“Get me Sir Justin,” Lansius said to Carla.
Sir Justin emerged from the trenches. “What do you need, Commander, a party?”
Lansius chuckled. “That can wait. Sir Justin, I see all those beautiful horses and knights. What do you think we should do?”
Sir Justin laughed and shouted down to his men, “Time for a ransom hunt!”
The knight’s words were greeted with fierce jubilation from his men. Quickly, they made their way to the back trench, where they had hidden their horses.
Lansius saw Anci approaching. He looked mauled, but still alive and kicking as per usual. “Anci, go nuts,” he said to encourage him.
“Haha, eazy,” Anci replied. “Come, Hugo, don’t be a slowpoke,” he taunted Hugo, who just climbed up.
“Fook you and your blasted horse,” Hugo cursed, drawing laughter from the troops. They knew Anci and Hugo had grown up together as squires to the same knight.
Then something occurred to Lansius. “Audrey, let them surrender and arrange for talks if you could.”
With her visor returned to its place, Audrey threw a hard glance at Lansius before nodding once and spurring her horse forward.
***
Viscount Robert
In the aftermath of the rout, the enemy’s smaller, yet fiercely motivated riders pursued Robert’s fleeing troops, scattering his other units from the battlefield. The only remnants of Robert’s forces were those who had sought refuge within their camp.
They attempted to barricade the camp, but they lacked sturdy walls for protection, and many had abandoned their posts, taking their mules or carts with them. In this dire situation, Robert’s loyalists urged him to flee. However, he knew his slow-moving baggage train would be easy prey for the enemy. When that happened, it would be a lost cause.
Right now, he still had the numbers to force the enemy into the negotiation table. However, Robert suspected the enemy held numerous hostages, enough to make his own nobles turn against him. Many of these captives were sons, uncles, or husbands of influential families.
Even if Robert managed to escape and secure himself within his castle, he would face internal conspiracies. The families of the hostages would be driven to overthrow Robert’s rule to ensure the safe return of their captive kin.
This precarious situation meant that a large number of Robert’s still numerous men and cavalry were reluctant to fight, fearful that their actions might endanger their relatives.
The enemy had triumphed, a fact Robert was forced to acknowledge. Believing that bravery was not only demonstrated in victory but also in defeat, he sat beneath his tent, patiently awaiting a negotiation while his men valiantly organized a final stand.
However, a group of riders acting as messengers arrived, bearing an offer of negotiation from their leader. Robert welcomed the opportunity for dialogue, and a truce was swiftly declared. The hostilities halted on both sides.
As both armies tended to their wounded and collected their fallen, a large ivory tent was erected between them, a symbol of forthcoming discussions.
...
As the victor’s cavalry patrolled the vicinity and stood guard at the site, the Lion of Lowlandia made his appearance, exuding an air of calm dignity. A small retinue of knights accompanied him as a protective entourage.
Despite the sweltering heat and his evident fatigue, Robert remained clad in his armor, resolute in leveraging every potential advantage in the forthcoming negotiations.
His adversaries welcomed him readily, though ironically the ivory tent was his own, one of many things he would lose in the aftermath of this conflict. Yet even in the face of defeat, Robert maintained a straight-backed posture, wearing an expression that suggested he was relishing every moment.
However, Robert mostly maintained his silence, allowing a trusted aide to handle the negotiations. To his surprise, his counterpart mirrored his approach.
There was no gloating in the adversary’s leader’s face. The man named Lansius sat quietly in his seat, observing the proceedings without interjecting. Both leaders exchanged several glances but refrained from direct conversation.
The first topic of discussion was the status of the hostages. A knight was dispatched to verify their condition and reported back that they were safe, kept in separate pits throughout the trenches as a precaution. The knight also confirmed that Marshal Michael had survived, though likely at the cost of an eye.
Robert drew a deep breath and nodded to his knight, his silence conveying his relief.
The second issue raised was the fate of Robert’s baggage train. Given their distance from the nearest settlement, supplies would be precarious. Fortunately, while the victors insisted on confiscating all wealth, they were reasonable enough to leave almost half of Robert’s food supplies intact.
This was more than sufficient for their march back home, and Robert was appeased. With the two main subjects addressed, Robert turned his attention to the opposing leader. To Robert, this Lansius was an intriguing figure. Not because of his black hair that marked him as a foreigner, but due to his lack of the pride or entitlement typically flaunted by the nobility.
The discussion soon hit a deadlock when the subject of land rights was broached.
“I beg your pardon, but your side lacks a valid casus belli against my Lord’s domain. While we acknowledge your military superiority, you cannot lay claim to White Lake without risking intervention from the Imperium,” Robert’s representative argued with conviction.
Sir Justin scoffed at this. “Stop this nonsense. It’s common knowledge that the lords of Lowlandia have been competing and seizing lands not rightfully theirs for generations. The Imperium has never intervened.”
“We are not brutes! My Lord only engages in battle when his rightful claims are threatened,” retorted Robert’s representative.
“Says the one who didn’t send an envoy this morning and launched an assault without even a parley,” Sir Justin shot back.
Robert’s side reeled from the statement, but chose to ignore it. “In the last conflict, Viscount Jorge pledged Korelia as payment for a joint attack on the Southern Alliance. When Lord Jorge reneged on his promise, My Lord was justified in reclaiming what was rightfully his.”
The crux of the matter was that Lansius held no legitimate claim to Robert’s domain. In reality, Robert would capitulate due to his defeat, but Lansius couldn’t legally retain Robert’s domain without the appropriate justification.
If Lansius forced his way, it would be seen as taking White Lake hostage, a move that would invite all the lords of Lowlandia to attack.
Robert was curious to see how this young man would navigate this messy issue of casus belli.
***