Dirty Gain
As the earlier high spirits of Lansius and his retainers waned over time, a sense of anxiety started to permeate the Council Chamber. First, there was concern over the safety of the guests. Second, the uncertainty surrounding the enemy's numbers and their time of arrival.
"Three Hills is a fifteen-day march away from Korelia," Sir Justin started. "The horseman who brought the news endured three days of riding, changing horses every half-day with minimal sleep at night. So, we likely have twelve days until they arrive."
Lansius responded with a nod while Calub stroked his chin, both of them bearing somber expressions.
"Is there anything we can do besides wait for Batu's messenger?" Audrey asked from her seat.
"Not much," replied Calub in a low voice. "Sir Justin and I have our informants, but they fall behind the tribal scouts in terms of speed."
Audrey frowned slightly but nodded her understanding.
The sudden knock at the door interrupted their deliberation.
“My Lord, Tribesman Batu is here to see you,” Sterling’s muffled voice informed them from the other side of the door.
Batu is here by himself?
Calub saw Lansius' reaction and commanded, "Let him in."
As Batu entered, it was evident that he had indeed ridden a long way; his long hair was slick with sweat. “Forgive my intrusion.”
“The honor is ours,” Lansius responded, rising to his feet along with his entourage as Batu approached.
Given Batu’s stature as a tribal leader, a seat had been arranged next to Lansius.
“So, what’s the tidings?” Lansius asked, pouring a pale ale into a silver goblet for Batu.
“A grim one. It seems you’ve managed to anger almost all the Western Lords.”
The statement hung in the air, and the tension in the room ratcheted up another notch.
“What makes you say such a thing?” Sir Justin asked, his brow furrowed.
Batu drained his goblet in a single gulp before replying, “Our scouts report thirty groups, each numbering two hundred.”
Thirty groups of two-hundred? That’s 6,000 men...? Fuck! That's equal to the entire population of Korelia.
***
Tribesman Batu
The Tribesman noticed that Lansius was unflinching but stunned, while his companions exchanged uneasy glances.
“Thirty groups of two hundred...? That’s a considerable force. Are you certain your scouts reported accurately?” Sir Justin queried, his voice just shy of skeptical.
“Our shepherds are the best at what they do. Counting that high is second nature to them,” Batu replied, not a hint of doubt in his tone.
“How many are we talking about, exactly?” Audrey pressed impatiently.
“Drey, we’re looking at six thousand,” Lansius replied, almost in a murmur.
The sheer enormity of the number left them dumbstruck. Audrey struggled to fathom such a figure. Only Calub and Sir Justin seemed to fully grasp the gravity of the situation.
“It’s three times the size of Lord Robert’s force last year,” Lansius clarified.
“How can there possibly be that many?” Audrey exclaimed, baffled.
Batu simply shook his head. “That, I don’t know.”
“Did I inadvertently incite anyone’s wrath?” Lansius wondered aloud, a frown creasing his brow.
Sir Justin shrugged his shoulders. “My understanding of the politics in western Lowlandia isn’t comprehensive, but it seems unlikely to be hated by all. Should I get Sir Callahan? He’s best suited for this discussion.”
Lansius shook his head. “Sir Callahan may hold deeper insights into this matter, but he’s currently supervising our merchants. War or not, we’re going to need grain supplies.”
“I think these Western Lords are largely opportunists,” Calub opined dismissively. “Like vultures circling an easy meal.”
Lansius exhaled a weary sigh. “I have paid a lot to station four-hundred men in Korelia, rallied the militia, even had crossbowmen drill in trenches in plain view of passing merchants, hoping to convey our might. But it doesn’t seem to deter anyone.”
Batu studied Lansius with respect, appreciating the Korelian Lord’s ingenuity. Although the ploy hadn’t succeeded today, it was a commendable effort to prevent wars and unnecessary bloodshed.
“Not all took part, mind you,” Batu informed Lansius. “The scouts only see the banner of the Three Hills, Korimor, and South Hill.”
“Korimor's participation was expected, but South Hill’s involvement is surprising,” Calub noted.
Sir Justin nodded in agreement. No one had anticipated that South Hill, having rebelled against Lord Jorge of Three Hills, would participate. “There must be a reason,” he mused.
“The reason doesn’t matter right now; what matters is that we’re facing six-thousand,” Lansius interjected, bringing the conversation back to the looming threat. “Do we stand a chance?”
“A slim one,” admitted Sir Justin.
“Should we prepare to leave?” Calub asked.
“Oh, fun, all the work for nothing,” Audrey commented, her voice bitter.
Their frank responses in front of their Lord surprised Batu, but he noticed that the trio was glancing at Lord Lansius as if expecting something. Despite their words, there was only urgency, not fear.
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Lansius sighed deeply. “We have a mere thousand at best. I could perhaps withstand an army of three-thousand, but six... That’s a tall order.”
“Perhaps, My Lord miscalculated our odds like last year?” Calub remarked.
“I don’t want to gamble with our lives again... Our victory last time was mostly due to luck, and I don’t anticipate a repeat of such fortune,” Lansius replied and then fixing his gaze on Calub. “There are times when things take a turn for the worse, and I fear this could be one of them.”
While Calub nodded, Sir Justin voiced his concern, "What’s our move then? Do we quit?”
Lansius’ lips twitched into a faint smirk, a mysterious glimmer in his eyes. “Let’s not rush into anything. First, let’s send a messenger to Lord Robert. Then I need to address our men.”
He rose up from his seat, followed by everyone. “You all should accompany me to the billets," declared Lansius, and then to his guest, “Brother Batu, I’ll arrange for a guest room for you.”
Considering the situation, the usually soft-spoken lord now exuded a level of confidence Batu had rarely witnessed before. “No need. My tribesmen have set up a yurt outside for the night.”
“Then please join us in the Great Hall for supper. Let me know if you require anything or reach out to one of my men.”
“It would be an honor, but I’d like to accompany you to the billets if you don’t mind. There’s a certain curiosity I wish to satisfy,” explained Batu.
***
Lansius
The billets were a pet project of Lansius and his staff. Originally, whenever a lord wanted to station troops in a city or town, he would require the residents to provide shelter for his men and officers.
This arrangement had two advantages. Firstly, it distributed the responsibility of housing and feeding the troops among the citizens. Secondly, it ensured the city's loyalty.
This was because, typically, only the wealthier citizens had extra room in their homes. As a result, having the lord's men stay with them turned a seemingly fair arrangement into a quasi-hostage situation.
Unsurprisingly, the populace never liked the idea. The lord simply passed the bill for his troops onto them, and having their families live next to an armed officer or footman they had never met before was rarely comfortable, if not altogether dangerous.
Lansius saw the benefits but believed the traditional billets risked creating social problems between the Korelians and his primarily Midlandian troops. Thus, his first administrative breakthrough the previous autumn was to centralize the billeting system by selecting sites with empty houses in the southern part of Korelia.
There, he established a permanent dormitory-style system, a field kitchen, a training hall, and an archery range. With the assistance of his staff, he laid the groundwork for a military police force, appointing senior guardsmen to maintain order.
In doing this, he effectively created a barracks complex to manage and organize his men. This also limited interactions between the troops and townsfolk, greatly coaxed discipline, and mitigate unnecessary risks.
Despite his attempts to instate a more rigid hierarchy, Lansius recognized that implementing a modern military structure or even a Roman-style system would cause too many problems. Thus, he relinquished any desire to micromanage, allowing them to govern themselves internally to a degree.
...
After a short ride, Lansius and his entourage arrived at the billets complex. The guard on the post saluted him readily and opened the gates for them.
As Lansius and his entourage dismounted, the air vibrated with anticipation. His presence made his men gather around. His friendly gaze swept across their faces, absorbing the subtle shifts of emotion. “At ease,” he said cheerfully, then asked, “Take me to the training hall.”
Hearing the Lord’s request, Sir Justin took over seamlessly, leading their party toward the heart of the complex. The men dutifully followed and created an escort for them.
The training hall, a brainchild of Lansius himself, was a hulking beast of a building. It could accommodate dozens of men, suffused with light and fresh air from meticulously placed windows and vents. The equipment within was rudimentary but effective.
As they stepped inside, the distinct smell of exertion and iron filled their nostrils. The men went alive, eyes turning towards their unexpected guests.
Sir Justin, ever the pragmatic commander, urged, “At ease, we’re just looking. Carry on.”
Lansius allowed his gaze to sweep over the battered surfaces of the grotesque iron dumbbells and wooden bench presses. Their scarred surface was a testament to their extensive use. But the true evidence of their usage was embodied in the men who stood before him.
As they lined up to greet him, Lansius couldn’t help but grin at their transformed physiques. The once scrawny group from the previous year had metamorphosed into a team of muscular individuals.
The inclusion of meals in Lansius’ contracts to his men-at-arms wasn’t a mere act of generosity, but a calculated move. Unlike Lansius, the Midlandians and Lowlandians did not suffer from lactose intolerance. Plus, Korelia had a surplus of goat's milk, cheese, and meat. Thus, it was an easy plan to do.
He had focused on bulking them up the previous winter. This served as a solution to several issues.
First, Lansius couldn’t march his troops for more than forty days per year. Moreover, despite the all-year-round payments, they had only agreed to one week of armed training per month.
However, he had convinced them to commit to three days of personal training weekly. This commitment translated to three full days of weightlifting and stamina-building runs when weather permitted.
Coupled with the competitive games he had initiated, offering protein-rich food and alcohol as prizes, he ensured a high participation rate, driving his men towards continual improvement.
By giving them a goal and rewards, he reduced their boredom and possibly prevented many issues usually faced in military facilities.
Now, his men had become warriors in spirit and form. Their presence radiated strength and confidence.
Catching Batu’s impressed gaze, Lansius asked, “What do you think of them?”
“Only one way to find out,” Batu replied, striding towards a table that was traditionally used for arm wrestling. “Come, I challenge your best.”
“I’m up next after Batu,” Sir Justin announced, encouraging his men as he took his place behind Batu.
Audrey, who had lined up behind the Marshal, shed her traveling coat and was stretching.
The unexpected situation drew a chuckle from Lansius. As he warmed up his arms, he took his place in line behind Audrey.
Despite his unassuming appearance, the Lord wasn’t to be underestimated - his training on horseback, along with wielding hefty lances against wooden targets and engaging in hand-to-hand combat, had honed his physical abilities.
Their collective participation sparked a spontaneous competition. News of a competition against the lord and his entourage spread like wildfire, attracting hundreds of onlookers outside.
Sir Justin and Batu displayed formidable strength. Audrey performed remarkably well. Even Lansius held his own, besting four out of a dozen plus competitors.
The contest was intense; these men were no pushovers. After a half-hour of sweat-soaked, adrenaline-fueled excitement, the contest finally came to an end.
Their arms ached, but feeling satisfied as they shared drinks and laughter. The Lord himself, despite losing a few silver coins, felt pride in his performance. His training had borne fruit. Now, noticing the crowd lingering outside the training hall, he decided it was time to execute his plan.
As he stood at the hall’s entrance, he was met with a sea of eager faces. “Men, I’m here today to check on you because we’ve received news about our enemy.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
“Yes, the western Lords are marching toward Korelia. And their numbers are big,” Lansius announced, his tone casual and generally untroubled.
“My Lord, how many of them are coming?” Sigmund, the lieutenant, and skald asked from the porch-like section of the training hall.
“Our scouts report thirty groups of two-hundred,” Lansius responded, still casually. All his pent-up worries had unexpectedly found release in the arm wrestling bout.
His words triggered a wave of commotion. While many couldn’t grasp just how large they were, they sensed it was more than ten times their size. They were numbered only four-hundred.
Lansius glanced toward his nearest ally, who happened to be Audrey. Sensing his intention, she slammed her fist hard on the door, commanding attention. “Order,” she demanded in a threatening voice.
The men, familiar with her reputation, respected her authority.
“Men, this is why I kept you in the dark last year,” Lansius resumed his speech. “Last year, you were all innocent. You knew nothing about fighting and warfare. But now, you should have learned a thing or two. Our victory last year should teach you that it’s entirely possible to win against an enemy more numerous and better armed than us.”
His words had their full attention. Indeed, they couldn’t forget their miraculous victory last year against Lord Robert.
“I know how to, because I’ve trained for it, mastered it since my youth,” Lansius continued. “But I understand it may be useless to try to convince you of my wisdom. But please, listen well to what I am about to say.”
He paused for effect and declared, “Thirty groups of two-hundred... Six thousand is nothing. Don’t be fooled by the number!”
The crowd looked at him in disbelief.
A faint smirk formed on Lansius’ lips. “Let me explain.”
***