Horizon of War Series

Chapter 237: Changing Skies

Changing Skies

Mountain Region, West of Three Hills

It was midday on the fourth day since they had arrived at the jungle at the foot of the mountain. Here, the weather was unpredictable. A drizzle could fall suddenly, even after a bright summer morning, leaving the air humid and heavy. This explained why their faces were tanned from the sun but glistened with sweat. Worse, insects plagued them relentlessly, while leeches latched onto their legs, making every step more miserable.

Many of Sir Arius's men, even the Crimson Knights, had already removed parts of their armor, opting for ringmail over their tunics. Sir Arius, too, had resorted to a stripped-down padded jack. Only his discipline and the weight of command compelled him to wear his cuirass despite the heat and humidity.

The nine-hundred-strong expedition continued their search, but despite initial findings, they failed to uncover anything conclusive. There was no cavern, no passable swamp, not even a bridge. They did find more traces, but they were old, nothing like what they had expected from a well-used path. Even the scouts were doubtful, prompting the need to broaden their search.

A somber feeling settled over the men. It felt as though they were chasing ghosts.

To make matters worse, the airship had been forced to leave after exhausting its reserve fuel. Without Sir Morton's reassuring presence in the skies, the situation felt even grimmer.

Before making his next decision, Sir Arius ordered a temporary camp to be established in a clearing deep within the dense forest to let his men rest.

The unforgiving environment was beginning to take its toll. Aside from injuries, many had developed fevers or other ailments. Fortunately, the few mobile medics they had brought from Midlandia proved invaluable in preventing fatalities and maintaining morale.

The guard parted the canvas and peeked inside, reporting, "Captain Farkas is here to—"

"Let him in," Sir Arius said without hesitation.

Farkas entered, offering a slight bow. "My apologies for interrupting your midday rest."

"Don't be," Sir Arius gestured to a straw mat nearby. "Please."

Farkas gratefully lowered himself, his legs aching from hours of walking through the treacherous terrain.

"My apologies for the lack of hospitality," Sir Arius said, more as a way to open the conversation than out of concern.

Farkas waved it off. "I’ve eaten. I’m here to give my report."

Sir Arius leaned forward, anticipation clear in his voice. "Finally. Did you find something?"

"Something, yes, but it's not good," Farkas replied, prompting a tired sigh from Sir Arius.

"We found a living root bridge, but it's broken. We searched downstream, but crossing there is nearly impossible. Some of the men claimed to have seen figures moving, but it was only apes."

"Apes?" Sir Arius echoed, surprised.

Thinking the commander had never seen one, Farkas tried to explain. "The men who saw them described a goblin-like creature covered in fur."

"So it’s truly apes," Sir Arius said with a slight nod, his tone almost amused. Seeing Farkas's puzzled expression, he elaborated, "Lord Jorge used to keep them in his menagerie when we were younger. Have you ever seen one?"

"No, I haven’t," Farkas admitted.

"Ah, there used to be a peddler who captured small apes and trained them to perform tricks in the market. When we return, I shall invite him to entertain us," Sir Arius offered. 𝖗ἁɴǒ𝔟Ęș

"Are the creatures not dangerous?"

Sir Arius chuckled. "The peddler often dressed them in goblin costumes, but they’re hardly any more dangerous than dogs."

Farkas nodded. The last time he had visited the market in Three Hills, he had seen no apes.

Turning serious once again, Sir Arius asked, "So the bridge is no good?"

"It's a dead end. With its condition and the grassy patch of thick mud on the path leading to it, nobody has used it for a long time," Farkas confirmed.

Sir Arius pondered deeply before muttering, "These mountains are too vast, even for an airship to cover. I hate to admit it, but I underestimated them. Now that I see them for myself, I understand why Lord Lansius burdened us with so many rations to carry on our backs."

"Indeed. It would be impossible to rely on a supply chain this deep inside this wet forest."

Sir Arius exhaled sharply. "At least five mountains, judging by their peaks, spread across an area as vast as the distance between Three Hills and Korimor, stretching deep into Umberland. Without good traces, it may take countless expeditions and years to cover them all, and now we’ve exhausted every lead."

Farkas seemed to share his frustration. He massaged his temple before slowly turning and asking, "Sir, what do you think of the Lord of Korelia's last prediction?"

Sir Arius’s gaze sharpened. The words of the Lord of Korelia, as he was still referred to by many, echoed in his mind: If you don't find them, they'll find you, likely before the end of the month. "Do you think it will happen?"

Farkas gave no verbal answer, but the conviction in his eyes spoke louder than words.

Sir Arius gave a slight nod and muttered, "The question is... will they find us first, or will we run out of food first."

***

4426, The Last Month of Summer

The Third Imperium had crumbled, and news of its demise had likely reached the furthest corners of the Promissia continent. Yet the recently divided province of South Midlandia, despite having ended its last conflict only a few months earlier, enjoyed a summer of relative peace compared to the other great provinces.

Farmers watched their crops turn golden as the season drew closer to harvest. Meanwhile, all manner of travelers now used the roads, which were kept in good shape at the Black Lord’s command to ensure smooth passage for his armies. And there were indeed plenty of army movements.

To everyone’s surprise, the Black Lord’s forces remained active beyond the usual forty-day period. At first, the presence of soldiers was intimidating, but their discipline was unmistakable. Soon, it became reassuring as reports of bandit dens and criminal rings being uncovered and brought to justice spread across the land. Support for the new regime began to grow steadily.

Now, the sight of armed men patrolling the roads was gladly received. The Lord's men, in turn, were glad to receive the warm greetings.

For the commoners, the succession crisis over South Midlandia finally felt like a thing of the past.

And it had come just in time. The dreaded decade-long cycle of dry seasons had returned to plague the region. Numerous cities, towns, and villages had fallen victim to fire. Fortunately, the newly formed night watch and fire brigades worked tirelessly to prevent and combat the outbreaks. Many of their members were still in training, but they were forged by fire and learned quickly in the face of the inferno.

The summer of 4426 would remain in everyone's mind for years to come. People of all status had fought to protect their homes and livelihoods from the fire. Yet, even under the siege of a relentless dry season, they remained hopeful for the future.

This optimism came from hearing another side of the Black Lord. He was a capable thinker and innovator and most likely a scholar. More and more began to reconsider their early impressions of him. It was clear from the many innovations he introduced that he was a different kind of warlord.

People began to see him as a tragic figure in a romantic sense. Many came to believe that the Black Lord was a misunderstood foreign noble, trapped in a land that failed to recognize his brilliance.

Now, his skill in warfare was seen as proof of an intellect that also shone in other aspects of rulership.

His renewed reputation made the Midlandians dare to be hopeful about his rule. While many doubted he was as capable as the previous Seneschal Bengrieve, at least he wasn't a brutish Lowlandian warmonger.

Though it would be too much to say the people adored him, acceptance and even respect were growing.

Fires continued to break out, endangering cities, towns, and villages across the region. The new firemen were proving their worth at every scene. They swiftly took command, coordinated the water brigades, and battled the burning buildings. Clad in thick, padded wool, their very presence bolstered morale.

Despite everyone's vigilance, Canardia, the province's new seat of power, suffered another devastating fire. It was extinguished only after a long night of battle.

Though the destruction was severe, people knew it could have been far worse. The firefighters, led by their Lowlandian captain, had once again proven themselves heroes and became a lasting source of pride for the city.

As the extreme dry season slowly receded, fires became less frequent across Southern Midlandia, and the situation began to calm.

Now, the black smoke in the skies came only from the blacksmiths, who worked day and night to fulfill the armorers’ orders.

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Amid the more forgiving summer sun, trade flourished. Peddlers and merchants flocked to Canardia, eager to stock up on the latest goods. While most couldn’t afford to trade in spring beds or carriages, there was plenty of money to be made from Hair Elixir and Vinegar Rinse. They were especially excited to discover a new item that had just been released: medicinal soap.

Many eagerly stocked up on this product, intended for use during times of plague. Word had spread that it helped rid users of lice infestations when used alongside the hair elixir. Plenty of sales were made, and coins changed hands.

There were smiling faces everywhere and even more women beaming as they showed off their clean, healthy hair.

As merchants and travelers came and went, many passed by the racetrack just outside Canardia with growing excitement. They looked forward to the upcoming inauguration ceremony. The recent fire had delayed the event, but anticipation remained high. Rumors spread that it would feature not only horse races but also a duck chariot race.

But not all were happy with this turn of events.

Behind closed doors in an old and respected inn, two men in clean traveling cloaks met inside a modest chamber. Sunlight streamed through the shuttered windows, casting narrow lines across the floor.

"We must make a move," the first man said, standing and refusing to take a seat.

"Can't we wait? I'm still recruiting more men," the older man replied from his chair, keeping his large leather hat on, its greenish-gray dye dulled by the dust and sun.

"No. At this rate, nobody will join us," the younger man said, then offered an explanation. "Before, they feared the Black Lord because of past rumors. But now everyone is beginning to see him differently."

The older man remained calm. "It's mostly fear. His men are everywhere."

"No, no..." the younger man stammered. "Listen to what people are saying in the streets."

"I’ve been to plenty of taverns—"

“What’s the use of listening to drunken fools?” he said with a sneer. “Try peddlers in the market, traveling merchants, or laborers. They see him as a lesser Bengrieve.”

"Impossible," the older man snapped, staring.

"It’s already happened," the younger man said. "That’s why I asked to meet. My group is preparing to move. If you're still set on climbing with us and cleansing this dishonor, then I expect your men to be ready."

The older man looked troubled. "But how? And where do we strike?"

"You’ll find out after you give your pledge."

He flared. "I’m already deep into this!"

"Patience. You’ll know soon enough," the younger man replied.

The older man could only remove his hat and flap it, trying to cool his sweaty face and hair. "I wish we could just take him out with poison or something."

"You fool," the younger man snapped, glancing toward the door. "Reginald tried that. Look what it cost us."

"I... I misspoke. Forgive me," the older man muttered, shoulders slumping.

"Just be patient. We’ll have our victory. Not even the Black Lord will expect this while his eyes are fixed on distant places."

The older man was alarmed. "Has Edessa made his move?"

"No. The Black Lord’s army is in Three Hills, dealing with a coup or something."

"A coup?" the older man asked, surprised. "Why haven’t I heard about that?"

"Because the details are being kept quiet. He doesn't want anyone knowing about his weakness."

"Then... right now, Midlandia is exposed?"

"Rightly so. That’s likely why he moves his army across the land, hoping to deceive us into thinking he commands more men than he truly does. In truth, he has only a thousand, perhaps a little more. They are spread thin in the north near the river and Lubina, and farther inland toward the monastery."

"I see..." the older man sat straightened, confidence returning to his face. "But what about his allies?"

"Who? Sir Stan of Toruna? He’s far to the east," the younger man replied dismissively. "Our strike will be swift and powerful. His allies won’t reach him in time. Midlandia will be ours."

"Then, to the Federated Lords of Midlandia." The older man rose and extended his hand.

"To the Living Saint Nay." The younger man stood and grasped it firmly. The two men clasped hands, their grip tight with resolve.

***

Lansius

From the shadows of a concealed balcony nestled above the chamber, Lansius observed as Audrey's entourage, led by Ingrid, House Korimor's chamberlain, entered to greet their social guests. Even before Audrey appeared, her staff had already made their presence felt. Their attire, neat and stylish yet practical, radiated strength and elegance without flaunting excessive wealth. A trained eye could see that their clothing was designed with purpose. It could easily accommodate a cuirass in place of an arming jacket if the need arose.

Their formal outfits were completed by arming belts and matching dark leather boots with double-thick soles. The boots not only added height but also provided comfort and durability. While Ingrid wore a matching skirt that preserved her lady-like grace, her squire wore trousers, as was customary for the role.

In contrast to their attire, their clean, lustrous hair gleamed brilliantly and carried a subtle, alluring fragrance.

As expected, the noble-born guests were charmed rather than intimidated and quickly engaged in lively conversation.

Though Lansius was too far to catch their words, the atmosphere appeared pleasant, and he was pleased with the progress. He understood well that the influence of women was often underestimated. History might portray them as weak and in need of protection, but as those who shared beds with powerful and wealthy nobles, they wielded considerable influence over the region.

And Lansius intended to win their favor. At today’s gathering, Audrey would introduce a new product to enhance their reputation further.

With a clear voice, the herald announced her arrival, and Audrey made her entrance. She was flanked by none other than the formidable Francisca the half-breed and Claire, whose golden hair caught the light, making her stand out and adding a regal air to the political display.

As Lansius watched, Audrey suddenly glanced upward toward him. Even without a smile, the intensity in her gaze told him that she had noticed him.

Audrey took her seat, allowing the guests to greet her and offer their curtsies.

Afterward, Ingrid gestured for the Midlandia Office of Works to bring forward their new product. Three gentlemen stepped forward, each carrying a small, wonderfully crafted, airtight wooden container. Inside were dry powders made from a blend of fine salt, powdered charcoal, mint, sage, and, since this version was intended for nobles, ground cloves imported from the Mercantile Kingdom.

Lansius watched as the demonstration unfolded. The men blended a spoonful of the powder into a wooden bowl before adding several drops of vinegar, peppermint oil, or clove oil.

Soon, each guest was presented with a plate containing the resulting paste, and the noblewomen eagerly tasted it. Amused by the novelty, they examined the product with curiosity.

It was a toothpaste, initially named Tooth Purifying Powder, though the staff had already begun calling it Tooth Elixir.

While sugar from sugarcane was still rare, dental plaque remained a common problem. Although humans in this world could regrow their teeth, the pain associated with dental issues was still severe. Worse, ailing teeth did not simply fall out on their own, often requiring horrendous procedures performed by the town’s barber, who used the sharpest tools under a physician's guidance.

Even with assistance, the procedure was agonizing and could sometimes be fatal. Therefore, a reliable tooth care product was a welcome innovation. While natural remedies for teeth brushing were known and used, many substances sold in the market did little more than offer false promises of healing.

Lansius had simply used ingredients he knew would protect the teeth without relying on ineffective or dangerous substances.

He could easily adjust the formula by removing the ground cloves, allowing him to sell a Lesser Tooth Elixir for the masses. Improved hygiene was all the rage now, and he stood to benefit since a subject suffering from toothache was unlikely to be productive.

Since it wasn’t his intention to drive other businesses out of the market, he chose to collaborate with the apothecaries for this venture.

He even gladly shared the recipe, knowing that any reputable alchemist worth their salt could easily replicate it. Besides, he already had the brand name to guarantee quality.

So far, the demonstration was going well.

He kept watching, but his gaze slowly drifted toward Claire, his late mentor's younger daughter. She was his charge, yet Lansius had been away so often that he couldn't fulfill that role properly, leaving her care to other trusted hands. To his surprise, it wasn’t him who had found time for her—it was Claire who had stepped up and sought him out. Or, more accurately, she had found Sterling. Their marriage had effectively released her from his responsibility.

This left Lansius feeling regretful that he had not been responsible enough. Despite his vow to the late Sir Callahan, he had been too busy.

It was something to reflect on, especially as his realm would continue to need him. Furthermore, it would be naive to think there would be no more wars in the future. Somehow, he had to do better and make time for his future child. He couldn't afford to repeat what had happened with Claire.

Claire had grown to be surprisingly capable and independent, even more so than her sister, Cecile. Now, without the airship or Sir Morton, she was free to continue her training under Ingrid and, interestingly, Valerie.

The castle had become a lively place with so many women around. There was Mother Arryn, Tanya, Valerie and her maid Tia, as well as Ingrid, Audrey's mage mentor. Several half-breeds led by Francisca added to the castle’s vibrant atmosphere.

Lansius had high hopes for Claire. Already a pilot, she had the potential to become a different breed of mage, learning from Ingrid, Sir Morton, and Valerie, and even taking lessons from Audrey.

A muffled sound at the door drew Lansius’ attention. He turned and spotted Sterling, who whispered, "Urgent news from Arvena."

Lansius left his hidden observation point and stepped out to meet Sterling. "Arvena?" he asked.

"Yes, My Lord," Sterling said, offering him a letter.

Lansius read it in the corridor, where the light from a nearby glass window provided sufficient illumination. The message came from the Orange Skalds, who had worked tirelessly to bring news from northern Midlandia. As he read, he inhaled sharply and stood there, stunned. The contents were disturbing: the Arvenians had killed Lord Gottfried's firstborn.

His hand slowly folded the letter as if trying to undo what he had just learned. Yet his shoulders were already tense, heavy, shackled by his understanding of the serious ramifications that would follow. Lansius finally exhaled deeply and shook his head in bitterness. It was clear that this would certainly jeopardize the fragile peace in Midlandia.

The year was not yet over, his child was not yet born, yet another threat had already emerged. And this was only the danger he knew of. With him as the occupier of half a province, it would be foolish to think no plots were forming against him.

Meanwhile, he remained absorbed in the events in Three Hills and their ongoing war against the smugglers, now identified as the Mountain People. Lord Avery’s swift victory in Corinthia had been a welcome surprise, but from the sparse records they had gathered and the accounts of those familiar with the region, Lansius knew the mountains there were vast and treacherous.

He understood all too well how such terrain could devastate even the most experienced army. And without him leading, he feared they might be lured into a trap.

***

Mountain Region, Roderic

After further consolidating power, Roderic's allied clans managed to convince the Nicopolan rabble to form a fighting force. Enticed by promises of food, over a thousand men eagerly joined, marching through the underground stone corridors despite their lingering suspicions. They had never heard of such a cavern system running through the mountain, and its existence perplexed them.

Yet, their discipline spoke volumes. These Nicopolans were no mere peasants. They carried their own arms, and their bearing hinted at hardened experience.

"These Nicopolans even bring their own armament," one of Roderic's staff remarked with a chuckle as they read the latest report, drawing hearty responses from the others.

Roderic and his staff were leading three hundred men along a different, older, and narrower route. Light from their enchanted gemstones illuminated the path, casting a bright glow on the stone walls.

"Who would’ve thought that rabble could be such an elegant solution," another quipped wittily, prolonging the good humor.

A wide smile spread across Roderic's lips. Everything was falling perfectly into place.

Victory had been nearly lost, yet ironically, it was the hated Nicopolans who had made themselves available. Their deaths would poetically pave the path for his people's ascendance to greatness.

As for himself, everything would be his. Even if his Centurian bride refused him again, there would be plenty of others, and he could leave her to rot in the dungeon. In this regard, Roderic might even get lucky and expand toward Korimor, claiming the much-beloved Lady of Korimor for himself.

The only lingering issue was that the Nicopolans would inevitably learn about the pass and the cavern system. It was as good as a hidden Imperial highway between Nicopola and Three Hills, bypassing the arduous detour through Umberland that would otherwise take weeks.

With thousands of outsiders marching through, secrecy would become impossible.

But Roderic and his allies had already crossed the point of no return. They had burned their bridges behind them. There was no turning back now.

Even the elders’ vehement opposition, which had led to the siege of the stone fortress by their armed supporters, no longer mattered. With a hundred men guarding their families deep within the fortress and its vast network of chambers and underground corridors, their safety was assured.

Light flickered at the end of the tunnel. The advanced party, led by a fighter whose high-tier gemstone granted him night vision, had reached the stone gate and opened it fully.

The campaign to crush the Shogunate’s army and the Black Lord's hegemony was about to begin. Fifteen hundred men would march against a weary and weakened force of nine hundred. Victory was no longer in question. The only uncertainty was how much blood would be spilled before their ambitions were realized.

***

PS: Link to Map is always on the footnote (post chapter note)