Horizon of War Series

Chapter 241: Baronial Decree

Baronial Decree

The Black Bandits

The following day, Farkas and his men woke in a miserable state. The rain hadn't stopped but had turned into a lingering drizzle, coming and going through the night, soaking everything it touched. By morning, the jungle was damp and heavy with fog, a thick blanket that clung to the entire region. The ground, already challenging to traverse, was now nearly impassable. Worse still, the fog concealed their smoke, making it impossible for the main army to see their signal.

Despite the frustration, there was nothing to do but stay dry and wait for the fog to lift. The men huddled around their fires, each one sheltered beneath broad leaves, branches, blankets, or whatever they had managed to carry during the chase. The fires were raised on mounds of stone to keep them from drowning in the wet. Ants and insects gathered near the warmth, seeking shelter from the cold rain.

Helmets, stripped of their padding and linings, were turned into makeshift cauldrons, used to boil gruel from whatever they had left in their pouches and pockets.

Even so, the scouts among them had set out at first light, feeling duty-bound to press ahead, confident in their skills.

Now, despite the stronger sunlight trying to pierce through the canopy, the drizzle refused to stop.

Farkas could do little but wait, ensuring his men stayed as dry and warm as possible.

"Nothing says victory like boiled gruel in a helmet," someone quipped, earning tired chuckles.

"The Crimson Knights must have carried some wine. I smell it every time I go near them."

Farkas joined in. "If you want, you can carry a wineskin."

"On second thought, I should’ve," the man said, chuckling.

"But what would the Lord Shogun think of us?" someone asked.

"His elite drunken bandits," another blurted out, and everyone laughed.

Then someone turned to their newly acquired allies and asked, "Don’t the Nicopolans carry any?"

"If we had anything worth eating, we wouldn’t be here," one of the twenty-odd Nicopolans replied with a smirk.

Amid the hearty chuckles that followed, Ted suddenly rose, drawing everyone’s attention.

"What did you hear?" Farkas asked, his hand already resting on his crossbow.

"Dogs," Ted exclaimed.

The mood shifted at once. Men stirred with hope, standing to listen for themselves. Moments later, the barking grew clearer. They had been found by one of the main columns. Despite the thick fog, Sir Arius had ordered a column to march out on the chance that Farkas’s unit had encountered the Mountain People and needed support.

As it turned out, a few dogs kept for camp security had proven their worth.

But there was little to celebrate. As the fog began to lift, the scouts returned empty-handed. No tracks. No bodies. The last hundreds of Mountain People had vanished without a trace.

One of the Nicopolans stepped forward, trying to help. "When we arrived in this region, we stepped out of a cavern."

"I remember the stale air, like the inside of a well," another added.

"How big was it?" Farkas asked as the men gathered, preparing to march.

"You could fit a horse in it. Maybe even a narrow cart."

"Do you remember the openings?" Farkas' lieutenant asked.

"We all remember. There was a wide clearing in front. Big enough to muster a column of several hundred."

Farkas glanced at his scouts, who exchanged frustrated looks. It was, without a doubt, a unique landmark. There was no way they could have missed it. Which meant they had been chasing the wrong trail.

"But the entrance itself looked plain," someone added. "Easy to miss."

Farkas furrowed his brow. "It didn’t look like a mine entrance?"

"From the outside, it looked like a bear cave. Nothing was chiseled, no gates. Maybe the only curious thing was the smooth cavern floor."

One of his veterans offered a thought. "Maybe the enemy used a decoy group to mislead us."

Farkas sighed deeply and nodded. "That's probably what happened."

From the edge of their group, a knight and his squire from the main column approached. "One of the captives is finally talking," the knight said.

The men’s expressions lifted. At this point, they cared little for how the Mountain People had been made to talk.

"Then we can finally resume the pursuit," Farkas said.

"No," the knight said firmly. "You'll need to wait for Sir Arius' column. Let the Three Hills men earn some recognition. You and your lot have had more than enough."

Farkas and his men chuckled at the remark, none taking offense. They’d had their chance and lost the lead. It was only fair to let others try. He turned back to the knight and said, “Then my group will provide support. This search could take days. And please, let my scouts join you. Otherwise, they might tear their hair out over this.”

The knight nodded without hesitation. "We could always use more scouts."

***

Canardia Castle

Lansius had to change his clothes twice after training, each time drenched with sweat. His new swordsmaster was old but sharp, with a calm demeanor and a dry wit. His insights were excellent, and he tailored each lesson to Lansius’ strength, reach, and natural movement. It was through him that Lansius realized he had developed an uneven gait, likely the result of an old injury, perhaps from running through the forest during his escape from the Northerners or his first skirmish in Sabina Rustica.

Worse still were the effects of a wrist injury in Korelia, along with another from the Umberland mountains, both of which had left his movements less flexible than he had assumed. He had never noticed these limitations before. Audrey’s approach to training had focused more on instinct and reflex than on proper swordsmanship.

When he explained his past training to the swordsmaster, the old man merely laughed.

The swordsmaster's words still echoed in his mind: "Spirited training to build battle instinct is useful, but if you want to face multiple opponents and not break a sweat, you need more than stamina. You need finesse."

After cooling down and taking a drink, Lansius headed to his study chamber with his small entourage.

Today, as he had requested, Sir Omin had arranged for a legal scribe to lend his expertise in contract law. This followed Francisca’s petition to be granted land for her people, the half-breeds, to settle and migrate into.

His men had assured him that the area in question was uninhabited and far from any nearby settlements. The closest were a hidden coin minters’ village and a SAR training ground and fort still under construction. It was generally considered a low-risk situation.

Midlandia was vast, and despite its high population, there remained a kingdom’s worth of open land. Much of the province was still only lightly touched by human presence. Moreover, the half-breeds did not reproduce more rapidly than humans. In fact, they were generally more cautious about family size, and their shorter lifespan naturally limited their numbers.

On the other hand, there were clear benefits to allowing their migration.

In addition to strengthening security around the minters' village, his House would gain greater access to recruit half-breeds for a variety of roles. While they made superb guards, escorts, and fighters, many were also skilled scholars, trained in record-keeping, scripture, and even medicine, depending on their background.

Incorporating more half-breeds would be a boon, especially since they were often viewed favorably by commoners, intellectuals, and nobles alike. Most arrived already mature due to their unique lifespans, free from the arrogance of youth. They tended to be patient and carried none of the usual tensions surrounding marriage, ambition, or the pursuit of court rank. As such, they were regarded as a neutral presence and a valuable ally.

After Lansius sat down, he read the letter on his desk. Finding nothing urgent, he motioned for Sterling and another guard inside the chamber to summon his scribes and guests.

Lansius’ trusted scribe and a gentleman from the Midlandia Office of Works entered first, followed by two legal scribes and their aides.

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After the formalities, Lansius explained the situation, laid out his intentions, and expressed his concerns, concluding with, "I want to ensure that no one is diminished by this cooperation between my House and the half-breed people."

"It is wise to consult us in such matters, My Lord," the younger of the legal scribes replied, offering a courteous smile as his aide began drafting the terms for review.

After some back and forth, a draft charter was prepared. Lansius read the following:

Let it be known that by the will and assent of Baron Lansius of Korelia, South Hill, Ornietia, and Midlandia, and with the counsel of his household, the following terms are set forth regarding the lands bordering the Nazo Highlands and their grant to the half-breed tribes under the protection of House Lansius.

I. On the Granting of Land:

The lands stretching around the region of Nazo Highland shall be set aside for the use of the half-breed tribes, who shall therein establish a settlement no greater than the size of a village, provided they remain in service and good standing with House Lansius.

II. On the Right of Expansion:

Said settlement may, by leave and at the Lord’s discretion, be expanded to the size of a town with such surrounding hamlets, farms, and orchards as are needful, so long as their bounds do not exceed those here defined and agreed upon in this charter.

III. On Tax and Service:

The fulfillment of tax shall be rendered in the form of service. For every two households settled upon the granted land, one able-bodied member shall be pledged to serve the interests of House Lansius at all times. No coin or grain shall be collected as tax unless the tribe engages in commercial ventures beyond subsistence or trade among their own.

IV. On Abandonment or Default:

Should the tribes fail to uphold their obligations, or should they withdraw from the land, the territory shall revert to the Lord’s Household and be restored to his charge.

V. On Compensation for Improvements:

In the event of departure, forfeiture, or reversion of the granted lands, any house, barn, well, road, or other structure of worth established thereon shall remain the rightful property of its maker. The Lord’s Household shall provide just recompense within ten years of said closure or withdrawal, the value to be assessed by condition and use, that no honest party suffer loss without remedy.

So shall it be, that all parties may gain and none be aggrieved, and peace and fairness may be upheld in the name of House Lansius.

Lansius was satisfied with the draft. It was better than he had expected and with so little effort.

Pleased, he praised the legal scribes. “This draft is sound and comprehensive.”

The older scribe, a man of about fifty whose features still bore traces of youth, chuckled softly. “It heartens me, My Lord, to see such care taken to ensure the matter is just in both spirit and letter.”

Lansius let out a faint smile, sensing a kindred soul.

The older man exchanged glances with his younger counterpart, received a nod, and added, “Your concern moves us. And the fairness woven into this charter is a rare thing indeed. Like a flower blooming in winter.”

Had Lansius been more familiar with them, he might have teased them for such lavish praise. But he sensed the older man was trying to open up, and so he offered a simple answer. “I may require your counsel again in the future.”

“I shall remain at your service,” the older man replied, and all four bowed with quiet gratitude.

Afterward, Lansius’ scribe stayed behind to review the legal documents with the gentleman from the Midlandia Office of Works. Meanwhile, Lansius remained with the other guests, still enjoying their company. As the situation turned lighter, he shifted the conversation out of casual curiosity.

“How stands the state of trade in Midlandia, from your view? I hope the recovery is going well."

The two legal scribes didn’t answer at once. There was a brief pause as if they hesitated. The older one glanced at his junior, who finally spoke. “My Lord, if I may speak frankly.”

“Please,” Lansius said, encouraging him.

“We beg your pardon in advance,” the younger scribe began. “It’s just... meeting the Lord of Midlandia like this is rare and entirely unexpected. We feel it would be a wasted opportunity if we didn’t take a moment to shed light on our plight.”

“You are far more capable than many had assumed,” the older scribe added.

Lansius was amused. He knew it was more than flattery. Trusting his instinct, he replied, “You may speak plainly. What is it you wish to say, maester?”

"While the markets are brimming with goods and people, not much has changed for us. Rarely does anyone consult us or need our expertise," the younger man explained.

Lansius raised an eyebrow. The idea that a large province like Midlandia had little use for legal scribes was staggering. "How can that be? I imagine there are plenty of contracts to review, dealings to scrutinize."

"Normally, there should be," the younger scribe admitted. "But here, there’s little point. The rich and powerful renege on contracts so often that people have stopped bothering. There’s no good reason to spend time and effort drafting written agreements when no one respects them."

"Without enforcement, it’s all meaningless," the older scribe added.

Lansius stroked his chin, concern showing in his eyes. He hadn’t imagined the situation was this dire. "Does the region have no bailiff?"

"They do," the younger scribe replied. "But it doesn’t matter. The previous ruling House ignored anything that might upset the peace or threaten their relations with the noble Houses."

Seeing Lansius listen intently, the older man added, "The best anyone can do is file a complaint with the Seneschal, but he’s a busy and powerful man. Very few can secure an audience. So most don’t bother. Moreover, the wealthy hate contracts. They refuse to sign anything that could hold them accountable."

Lansius exhaled slowly, surprised by what he had heard.

So, the situation is this rotten...

Only now did he realize he had it better, because Sir Stan had taken him into his fold. And through that, he had a direct line to Bengrieve. Looking back, it was a stroke of fortune.

As if lamenting, the older scribe said, "We can put things in writing, but there’s no one to uphold the law. It’s painful to watch. Even when they’re clearly in the wrong, the nobles unashamedly impose their will through thugs, and the law of the land won’t lift a finger to correct the injustice."

The young scribe, seeing Lansius' eyes turn sharp and cold, immediately said, “I beg your forgiveness, My Lord, if our words have offended—”

“No,” Lansius waved a hand to dismiss their reaction. “You have not offended me in the slightest. It’s the nobles’ behavior that offends me. I can’t let this charade continue. I offered them tax clemency, but it means nothing if they still act with such lawless and shameful conduct.”

The two scribes looked at Lansius with great anticipation.

“The law should never bend but for the highest consideration from the highest seat in the land.”

His personal scribe, having finished his task and overheard the exchange, stepped closer and said cautiously, “My Lord, that could mean conflict and the loss of noble support. It may also damage your rising reputation.”

Lansius smirked. “Let them find out. They will find me or my bailiffs unyielding in the matters of law.”

The scribe, who had known Lansius since their days in Korelia, smiled softly. “I’d expect no less from your House, my Lord. After all, it’s the one that once fined its Lady half her wages for a year.”

Lansius chuckled, while the two guests offered polite smiles, unsure whether to laugh.

“You’d make a fine jester,” he quipped to his scribe.

Still grinning, the scribe shook his head. “My gratitude for the offer, My Lord, but I’m far too busy to learn how to play flutes and how to fart on command.”

A chuckle escaped Lansius' lips. Then, turning to his two guests, he said, "I'll speak with my Chief Bailiff about this. There will be changes. This lawlessness must end. When I’m finished, they will fear the law more than they fear me."

...

With a plan forming in his mind, Lansius summoned his staff and the Chief Bailiff, a trusted bannerman from previous campaigns. Together, they refined the approach before sending word to the other bailiffs who oversaw local legal disputes and administrative duties across the barony. It would take several days to gather them from the far reaches of the province.

In the meantime, Lansius turned his attention inward. He summoned the Midlandia Office of Works, his land surveyors, and the officials of the land, those most prone to bribery.

The Council Chamber filled with nearly fifty men. With no room for seating, they stood in close ranks. Only Lansius sat, flanked by Sir Harold, Francisca, and the Chief Bailiff, all standing at his sides.

After the formalities were done, Lansius began. "I’m not here to accuse anyone, so you may breathe easily."

The men’s shoulders eased, their expressions softened, and a few exchanged tentative glances as the room began to settle.

"I’ve called you here to speak about bribes," Lansius continued. "It was a serious problem under the last administration, and I believe it now threatens to undermine our own. To address it, I am introducing a new law."

He motioned to his Chief Bailiff, who stepped forward and read aloud, “Effective immediately, this baronial decree stipulates that any official who accepts a bribe and reports it directly to the Lord may keep the full amount.”

A wave of murmurs passed through the chamber. Faces tightened with surprise and doubt.

Before anyone could ask, Lansius raised his voice. "There will be no punishment. As long as you report it to me, you will not be found guilty. If reporting it puts you or your family in danger, I will guarantee your safety. You may remain here in the castle under my protection, or I will transfer you to another post, within my lands or beyond them, whichever you choose. I will make sure that doing your duty does not leave you poorer."

The men exchanged glances and began to nod.

After Lansius' assurance, the Chief Bailiff addressed the chamber again. “There is one crucial condition. This law and any reports made under it must remain confidential. We cannot allow the commoners or the nobles to see it as a license to accept bribes. It is not. This measure exists only for the most difficult and unavoidable situations.”

Seated with his right elbow on the armrest and his hand covering his mouth in thought, Lansius watched the room closely. He studied each face, gauging their reactions. Their acceptance of confidentiality was essential. The veil of secrecy served as an added layer of protection, preventing the rule from becoming a norm. He couldn’t allow people to interpret it as quiet approval of bribery, which would eventually erode the moral foundation of his rule.

His officials could grow too comfortable, taking bribes under the pretense of reporting them and pocketing the money without hesitation. That would weaken the fear and shame that once kept corruption in check. Over time, the line between what was lawful and what was criminal would blur. Worse, it could invite manipulation. Some might provoke or coerce bribes or even falsely accuse others for personal gain.

In this matter, secrecy helped keep too many details from leaking, at least for a time. It would obscure the intricacies of the law, making it harder for both the public and his own officials to fully grasp its workings or exploit its flaws. Of course, it wasn’t perfect. It was never meant to be. This was a temporary measure, not a final solution. Its true aim was to disrupt the culture of bribery and begin enforcing change.

Even if some details slipped out, there would still be natural suspicion and heightened fear among those offering bribes. Lansius hoped the measure would last long enough for him to turn things around.

With no questions or objections, Lansius turned to Sir Harold. “Perhaps a brief summary is in order?”

After a nod, the tall knight swept the chamber with a cold, stern gaze. Many looked away, unnerved by the man who could likely best them all without even needing a weapon.

“You are to take a bribe only if refusal puts you in danger or if there is no way to avoid it,” Sir Harold said, his tone somber and firm. “Every report will be investigated. If anyone thinks to twist this law into a weapon against another or stir false accusations for personal gain, he will face the full wrath of House Lansius. I promise you, the punishment will be far worse than death.”

The Chief Bailiff waited for Lansius, who said in a lighter tone, “Gentlemen, if this seems too complicated, then simply refuse the bribe. If someone insists or the amount is too great, report it to me. Refuse it, report it, and you will have nothing to fear.”

After a nod from Sir Harold, the Chief Bailiff then closed the meeting. “This law is now in effect. You may come to me after the council is dismissed or go directly to the Lord.”

Meanwhile, Francisca remained silent throughout the meeting. As ordered, she gazed at the officials, profiling them one by one and watching for anyone suspicious. If several others glanced at a man, it might mean he held influence or was possibly a ringleader. Lansius had made it clear to her that this could be a silent war in the making.

Now, ironically, the blades were more likely to appear from within their own border.

But this was no oversight. It was a calculated risk. Lansius understood it was better to face a coup now than be betrayed while confronting an external threat. And if a plot was already in motion, he would rather drag it into the light before it could fully take shape.

So, with his council and Audrey's blessing, Lansius charged straight into the rot at the heart of his own domain.

***

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