Horizon of War Series

Chapter 224: Strength in the Ashes

Strength in the Ashes

Lansius

The two had just returned to the castle under heavy escort, as the SAR deemed the situation precarious. People lined the streets, their panic driven more by blind fear than actual danger. Though the worst had seemingly been prevented, news of their effective firefighting efforts had been drowned out by the hysteria gripping the Canardia populace.

Recognizing this, Lansius wasted no time as they arrived at the castle courtyard. He briefly instructed the messengers and heralds to help quell the panic.

"Put on your most confident face and voice, and tell the masses that everything will soon be under control," Lansius instructed. "Don't cry at the top of your lungs; it sounds desperate. Speak as if you were inviting them to dinner. Show them no fear, only absolute confidence."

"Please let them know that the Lord has surveyed the fire and has sent his most capable to fight it," Audrey added.

Once Lansius and Audrey finished giving their instructions, the messengers quickly departed. With that settled, they turned their gaze toward the black plume of smoke rising over the northern sky. The wind, fortunately, blew northwest, carrying the fire away from the city center.

They lingered for only a moment before heading inside. Lansius' clothes were still covered in soot, his face smeared with black smudges, and his hair dusted with ash.

Sterling, Margo, and their entourage rushed forward, offering him a clean doublet and a basin of water, but Lansius merely washed his hands and face before shrugging off his soiled doublet.

With the staff staring at him with various expressions, Lansius and Audrey proceeded to their private hall to wind down.

"I wish I could be at your side," Audrey said as Margo and Sterling closed the door, granting them privacy.

"There’s no need. We already agreed to handle different matters. If we all focused on the same task, less would get done."

"I still feel my talent is best used beside you," she said with her usual sharp gaze.

Lansius was pleased by that notion, and if not for his soot-covered hands and face, he would have kissed her.

A soft knocking at the door drew their attention.

"Come in," Audrey said.

"My Lord, My Lady, my apologies, but an urgent letter has arrived," Sterling said as he entered. "It's from Dawn." He held up a small, folded original along with a handwritten copy.

Hearing the name, Lansius promptly approached and took the letter. He examined the original hawk letter but found it too small to read conveniently, so he went straight to the written copy. He read the message transcribed by the Hunter Guildsman in charge of the hawk and pondered deeply.

"What’s it about?" Audrey asked cautiously after a while.

He did not answer but handed the letter to Audrey, who read it in silence. Before long, she commented, "It happened just as you predicted."

"It’s not a prediction if it’s clear cause and effect. They hit him, he hit back," Lansius said rather grimly.

Audrey nodded and placed the letter on the table. "So, what are you going to do? Tell him to hold back?"

"It’s almost midsummer; delaying is impossible for Avery. If he hesitates now, then if things actually go awry, he won’t be able to pull out in time before winter comes."

"Then tell him to postpone the campaign. He’ll listen. If he’ll listen to anyone, it’s you," Audrey said firmly.

Lansius inhaled deeply and averted his gaze before shaking his head twice. "What I told Michael and Daniella was mostly conjecture. It makes sense, and everything fits, but ultimately we have no proof. The whole captured fleet may be in Corinthia under the baron’s custody. Sometimes, the simplest explanation is the right one."

"You're still not sure despite further confirmation from Michael and Daniella?" Audrey asked, frowning.

"There’s no solid proof," Lansius reminded her. "While I’m confident enough to send resources and set a snare in Three Hills, I’m not confident enough to stop Avery. Not while the Southern Trade is at stake."

Sensing an impasse, Audrey urged, "Go take a bath. Whatever it is, you need time to think, and you'd better do it clean. The sun is past its peak."

Lansius nodded, grateful for the suggestion, thinking he could reflect while soaking in a hot bath to clear his mind and ease his fatigue.

***

Southern Elandia, Sagarius

The summer sun had softened past midday, its golden glare fading. But for the travelers, it made little difference. Towering pines lined the road, their thick branches stretching overhead, casting long, dappled shadows that embraced the caravan in cool relief. The shade made for ideal travel weather. Sagarius, seated alone at the back of the cart as she preferred, was surrounded by boxes of goods covered with canvas, which kept her hidden from both the sun and wandering gazes.

For most, this kind of journey would be monotonous, but as an elf hundreds of years old, Sagarius perceived things differently from humans. This fundamental difference shaped her interactions with ordinary folk. Though she understood the issue and took precautions to act with haste, her perspective remained unchanged. Like a farmer in summer waiting for his crops to be harvested in three months, she saw twenty or thirty years ahead with the same clarity.

To her, Bald Eagle’s death and the aging Official’s demise were inevitable, as certain as the coming of winter after fall. Naturally, she had already envisioned Sir Munius taking charge, with Paulos and Marc at his side. This was also why she had agreed to the people's request to follow her group.

Now, the camp followers had swelled to two thousand. Sagarius had to admit she felt guilty for burdening old Bald Eagle, but she deemed it necessary for the group’s survival. Because of this, she endured the knight commander's heavy sighs during their many meetings. His main concern was understandable—the new Lord of South Elandia might see such a large gathering as a threat, which could lead to a disastrous military confrontation.

Fortunately, Bald Eagle had managed to negotiate safe passage, and the route southwest was now open to them.

That was where she would seek the old city of Vindebona. It lay at the foot of the mountains, and according to both the Official’s knowledge and local accounts, it was semi-abandoned due to its remote location.

This was unsurprising, as it had been built as a defensive stronghold against the Beastmen. Vindebona had once served as the northernmost bastion, standing watch at the base of the Targe mountain range. Naturally, it was too remote and inconvenient for trade or travel and had likely fallen into disuse after the successful liberation of Nicopola from the Beastmen incursion.

There, her followers would create a safe haven. This was where the thousands of people would play their role. Sagarius knew she could not forge a lasting community with fighting men alone. A true settlement needed hands to till the soil, artisans to craft, and families to bring life, just as she had once nurtured in the subterranean palace.

This way, life will flourish.

And in the process, Sagarius would have plenty of time to search for the Imperium's armory. She planned to take whatever rare or valuable pieces she could find and offer them as gifts, some for Paulos, some for the upcoming meeting with the Lord of Korelia. She would also take a few select items for Sir Munius to aid him in his upcoming role as a leader, as well as a relic or two for Marc.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

There was no intention of founding a kingdom, only of creating a refuge, a place to weather the coming storm at the fall of her father's Imperium.

A sudden commotion near her slow-moving cart caught Sagarius' attention. Someone had slipped on the uneven road. She glanced over and saw it was Marc, with the men behind him pulling him up, their faces alight with amusement.

"Marc, are your legs getting wobbly already?" someone teased as they helped him.

"That brings back memories," Marc mumbled as he dusted himself off.

Sagarius leaned slightly over the cart’s edge, emerging from the shade to gaze at Marc. He was wearing a heavy-looking ringmail, a gift from Sir Munius, who had insisted he wear it whenever he was awake. That explained his drained stamina and the fall.

With a small, effortless flick of her fingers, Sagarius wordlessly summoned him forward.

A sharp jolt coursed through Marc, snapping his attention to Sagaria. He met her gaze and immediately understood the signal. Despite his fatigue, he quickened his pace, sweat running down his forehead as he struggled to reach her.

"You asked for me, milady?" he panted as he drew alongside her.

"How bad?" she asked, more out of curiosity or boredom than concern.

"The leg? Not so bad," he replied. He had sprained it while helping guide a cart across the marshes via a rotten plankway. The journey had been arduous, and many had suffered injuries from mishaps. Some had even gone missing, almost certainly doomed if not for Lady Sagaria's presence.

Sagarius shifted her gaze to his ringmail.

Noticing where she was looking, Marc answered openly, like a student to his teacher. "After thirty days, it doesn’t get any lighter. Just more pain in the shoulders and waist."

A sudden gust of wind swept through the caravan, rustling clothes and stirring dust. The momentary breeze was a welcome relief.

"Have you been using strengthening to keep up?" she asked.

With a defeated look, he admitted, "Without the ebony ring, it’s barely useful."

"Use it regardless," she instructed. "To the best of your ability."

Marc furrowed his brows, hesitating. "But you said the source is finite."

"Right now, do not concern yourself with that," she said, offering no further explanation. The wind died down, scattering dried leaves across the road. Some of the weary travelers smiled faintly, grateful for the brief, cooling respite.

Marc nodded and tapped into his source, a surge of strength reinvigorating his tired limbs.

"Keep the pace and walk next to me," she ordered. "It will be good training."

Marc did as he was told while Sagarius retreated to her shaded spot between the boxes, slipping out of view. From there, she continued observing the man she had saved during the war last winter. Now that she thought about it, Marc might have survived because of his natural affinity for magic. That made him more susceptible to her healing.

Like what she had done for him, Sagarius was also willing to save as many of her followers as she could. According to Bald Eagle's report, food would soon be scarce, and everywhere, there would be signs of conflict, hardship, and famine.

***

Valerie

The three mages and their escorts boarded another carriage to return to the castle. The sky had turned red with sunset, proving they had stayed longer than necessary out of concern that hidden embers might reignite the fire. However, the fire chief and his select men had given their assurances, so there was no longer any reason to remain.

Inside the carriage, they drank cooled water, wiped themselves clean with cloths dipped in a bucket, and sat in silence, worn out from their efforts. Only Claire seemed restless, peering out the window in the hope of catching a glimpse of her husband, Sterling, who might still be at the scene.

Instead, she saw Sir Harold and Sir Omin with their staff, conducting an investigation into possible arson. Another knight, Sir Michael, had come and gone, busy with his errands. Everyone had been mobilized today, including Sir Morton, who oversaw efforts from the airship.

"Are you alright?" Ingrid asked Valerie, noticing her slightly labored breathing.

"It’s nothing. I’m just a little tired from prolonged walking," Valerie reassured her. As the carriage passed a crowd of people celebrating, she added with a playful tone, "Speaking of stamina, Lord Lansius is a tough one."

"In what way?" Ingrid asked absentmindedly as the horses picked up speed.

"When I was disrupting his breath, he was quite resistant to it," Valerie explained.

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "But that was me..."

Valerie’s eyes widened. The thought of both of them interfering with the Lord’s breath was both amusing and unsettling.

"Wait, Lady Valerie and Meister Ingrid both did that?" Claire chimed in, her voice rising with surprise.

"Why so surprised?" Valerie asked. "Didn’t we discuss this earlier when I suggested it to Lady Audrey?"

"B-but wasn’t it my task to do that? Because I did. I thought Lady Valerie would distract him, and Ingrid would cover me while I disrupted his air," Claire said, her expression filled with awkwardness.

"No way," Valerie muttered. "Did all three of us do it?"

Ingrid’s face turned pale as she massaged her temple. "It was a mistake. We should’ve planned it better. We’re lucky he didn’t gasp for air outright."

Valerie forced a nervous smile, while Claire added, "But isn’t it strange? The Lord seemed to resist it so well. I had to try my hardest to even make it noticeable. At first, it seemed to have no effect at all."

Valerie and Ingrid exchanged uneasy glances. Both knew that young Claire could render a man unconscious by pulling the air from his lungs. As the carriage rolled toward the castle, they concluded that the Lord’s remarkable physical condition, strength, and endurance must have helped him resist their magic. There was also a sliver of hope that he might unknowingly possess an anti-magic relic.

***

Lansius

It was sundown, and the situation in Canardia had changed significantly. The fire had been brought under control before it could turn into a catastrophe, and a sense of relief spread throughout the city. People, shaken but grateful, took to the streets, embracing their good fortune with cheers and laughter. What could have been a disaster had been averted, and for many, that was reason enough to celebrate.

Meanwhile, inside the castle, Lansius skipped the formal supper at the Great Hall, opting for a private dinner. Nobody questioned his decision, as everyone was aware of his direct involvement in the firefighting effort. Moreover, with the city in high spirits, many staff and officers took the evening off to join in the celebrations.

Lansius took a second hot bath in the copper bathtub next to his chamber. The first one, an hour ago, had failed to remove all the soot from his hair and body. He felt bad for burdening his staff, but they assured him they were happy to do it, especially since the soot came from firefighting to save the city. The northern part was poor, they said, but many of them still had relatives there.

As he scrubbed the ash and soot from his hair, he couldn't help but find it odd that even castles in Midlandia lacked dedicated washrooms with floor drains. As a result, used water was typically carried away manually. The bathroom itself was a simple chamber with a bathtub and wardrobes; essentially a dry washroom combined with a walk-in cabinet. It also lacked latrines, which were usually located in separate turrets or dedicated outbuildings.

Strangely, metal piping made from lead was known and used for floor heating in some areas, passively connected to the fireplace so that hot air could spread throughout the chamber. Most of the water for the castle came from a small fountain in the inner courtyard or, if needed, from a nearby well.

Finished with his second bath, Lansius carefully stepped from the bathtub, mindful of the smooth, slippery polished stone floor. A reed-like carpet lay across it to absorb the water. A gust of cold breeze tickled his nose.

"Achoo!" he sneezed, quickly wiping himself dry and dressing for the night.

"You must have inhaled a lot of smoke," Audrey remarked from the next chamber as she got ready for bed.

"That, or it's the cold from taking two baths in such a short time," he replied, drying his hair with a clean cloth. "But now that you mention it, perhaps it's not a bad idea to develop a gas mask."

Her hazelnut eyes trained on him as he arrived, asking, "Smoke mask, you mean?"

"Yeah, something like that. Perhaps some leather and charcoal and several layers of fine linen might do," he mused aloud.

Audrey pondered, not sure why leather would be needed to cover one's mouth and nose.

"Also," Lansius cleared his throat, "you did that magic on me. Isn't it lethal to take away someone's breath like that?"

"I only did a little. You shouldn't get hurt from it," she reassured him with a smile. "Come, get inside the blanket. I'll keep you warm."

"Figuratively or literally?" he quipped as he joined her in the comfort of their spring bed.

Audrey's cheeks turned slightly red. "I don't mind, but it'll make you sweaty and tired." Then she suddenly added, "You'd be better off with this."

Lansius suddenly felt a warm blast of air, as if someone had turned on a hair dryer. "Oh, clever. You took hot air from the fireplace."

"Do you like it?" she asked proudly. "It takes a lot of practice to harness the hot air without getting that burning smell."

"Of course I like it," he confirmed.

Watching him enjoy it with tired eyes, Audrey said, "Don't work tonight. Sleep early with me."

"Mmm," he responded agreeably, "but the letter from Dawn—"

Audrey took his wrist, pulled him into bed beside her, and draped a blanket over them.

"Drey..." he complained, even though he felt really comfortable. Her warmth and sweet scent were intoxicating.

"You complain, yet you hold me just as tight and snuggle against my breasts," she teased.

"Can't help it. I'm weak to temptations, especially you," he admitted freely as he hugged her sideways, careful not to disturb her baby bump.

She finally whispered, "Can't the letter wait? I think you’ll think more clearly after a good night's rest."

"It can wait," he answered, and they snuggled closer together. Her limbs, usually firm, had softened with pregnancy, feeling tender and warm, each gentle touch a quiet reminder of the life growing within her. His eyelids suddenly felt heavy, his mind quieting.

"Lans, did Valerie ask you for anything special lately?" she asked tenderly.

He glanced at her with a sleepy look. "No, why?"

"Just curious."

"About the makeup?" he ventured, his voice barely a mumble.

Instead of answering, Audrey simply pulled him closer, wrapping him in her gentle embrace.

Then they both felt it—a small, unmistakable kick from the baby.

"Oh!" Audrey exclaimed.

"I can feel it," Lansius declared excitedly, pressing his face against her belly, separated only by the soft, silken gown. Another kick came, and he swooned. "More, more, give me more," he said in a childish voice, doting on his unborn child.

"He's getting pretty active," she commented, pleased.

"Have you been eating well? Maybe you need more milk or fruit," he suggested warmly.

"I've been eating fine. Valerie's been telling me about some nutritious foods."

Her words piqued his interest. "What did she recommend?"

"She said almonds, figs, boiled goat's milk, and soft cheese. And surprisingly, brown grains, along with hearty stews with lentils and leafy greens."

Lansius nodded, relieved that someone he could trust was helping take care of her.

Driven by guilt, he decided to forgo burning the midnight oil tonight and surrendered himself to Audrey's embrace.

"Sleep, my love," Audrey whispered as Lansius drifted into sleep. "I won’t let anyone, not even the Ancients, disturb your rest. As for our enemies… You've protected me and your allies, but we’re not children. You'll see that we have learned and grown as fierce as you always hoped. These pesky smugglers who dared to haunt you will be the first to fall."

***