Horizon of War Series-Chapter 290: The First Banneret

The First Banneret

"You have received word from my men in hiding. Thus, as the Lord of Midlandia once did, I ask you to join me and strike decisively to bring this festering wound called King Nico to an end." – Lord of Dawn

"My Lord, what if I told you that I possess a more thorough plan to stop the Nicopolans in their savageness and turn them into fearful subjects?" – Newly made Banneret

Amid the building storm aboard the Bat, Lord Avery listened to an opposing counsel.

***

Kapua

The newly conquered city, once proud as the second largest in central Nicopola, had turned into a husk of its former self. It bore none of its old glories. The vast market and bazaar stood empty, the residential quarters lay silent without a trace of life, and the once-flush mansions had been looted and ruined once more. The previous lord, Avery, had taken everything before the siege began. His ambushes and bold skirmishes at the start of the conflict had bought his people time to flee, bringing with them whatever they could carry south.

It was a rare move but not unprecedented. In the end, only a small number remained: the old and the frail, those without kin to care for them, and the stubborn who refused to leave even when defeat and occupation were certain. They believed that whoever ruled made no difference.

“Whoever wears the crown still needs his shoes mended.”

“Nobles, mercenaries, or kings, they all want their vegetables fresh and delivered each morning.”

“And someone still needs to brew their ale.”

With that stubbornness, they remained in the city. Many even tried to offer help to the invaders, thinking their aid would be appreciated and that they might be spared from the horrors of war. Most had been among the lowest ranks of the city and had little to lose. Their gamble paid off.

Aside from being rounded up and some receiving severe beatings during interrogation, most survived unscathed. Their houses were turned upside down in search of food, yet all the King’s men found was little more than scraps, dirty grain, and dried roots.

After finding nothing, the King’s men marshalled the city’s survivors, no less than a thousand souls, to the myriad labors required after a siege. There were graves to be dug, bodies to be carried and buried, walls to be scrubbed of blood, and roads and gutters to be cleared of debris. Much of the destruction within the city had been caused by the King’s own men, who pillaged and wrecked what remained to vent their frustration over the empty conquest. Yet it was the victims who were forced to clean the ruin.

It needed to be said that all of it was forced labor. The only things given were watered pottage and scraps of bread to thicken it.

But even in the grimmest of times, life went on.

Kapua had become an odd place to live. It was more of a military camp than a city. Their only relief came from the several thousand camp followers the King had allowed inside the walls. Their numbers were not enough to revive the city, yet enough to bring a small quarter back to life. Peddlers opened stalls before the empty houses they claimed as their own. Before long, there were taverns and music for the weary souls.

But violence still too often broke out in the streets, much of it caused by dissatisfaction over the division of plunder among the King’s troops, or disputes over who could claim which estate in the city. It was a state of near anarchy, with the King’s officers taking the finest mansions and houses for themselves, which often led to armed scuffles. Discipline was maintained, yet the King remained unbothered by the turmoil among his high officers, finding it a common occurrence and preferring to let them settle the matter among themselves.

“A lion does not worry himself with the matters of hares,” one of the King’s advisers famously said.

It only led to more brawls and breakouts, for the city was vast and empty, allowing anyone with rank to claim more and more abandoned quarters for his own. Meanwhile, some figures had taken the grandest houses for their houses of ill repute. They had once been peddlers of vice and women for coin among the camp followers, but now they ruled over the city’s pleasure district.

Despite all the chaos, King Nico and his advisers were not deluded into thinking that the Lord of Dawn was no longer a threat. His wonder of the world, a flying vessel, was as impressive as it was formidable. Anyone would wish to possess it, and if they could not, they would do all they could to bring it down. Thus, the King ordered his most talented Centurian retinue to hasten their preparations for a countermeasure.

Even before they attacked Kapua, using information from mercenary survivors of the last battle, they had recruited capable craftsmen and tasked them with developing a design and concept for an aerial ballista. Now, they possessed a working model of a high-angle ballista capable of hurling far-flying spears into the sky. Crude and largely untested against a flying vessel, they made up in number what they lacked in refinement. Even as infighting broke out in the streets, the King’s Centurian craftsmen and smiths labored in the newly conquered city, keeping the workshops lit, the bellows pumping, and the forges aflame day and night to fulfill the King’s will.

Within a week, the city walls already bristled with several ballistae, with more in the making.

But still, it was not enough for the new kingdom to survive. Despite taking Kapua, food was scarce, and the stores for the King’s vast army were dwindling. King Nico had hoped Kapua might still hold some grain, yet found none. Worse still, reports had come of poor harvests across his realm, save for his private lands. There was little hope of replenishment, for the fields around Kapua had long been left uncultivated by the wars.

Meanwhile, at best, his domain could spare provisions for a month of campaigning.

In a war-torn land, a proper meal had become a luxury, and that held true even for the King’s own table.

His officers began to feel the strain as the feasts in the Great Hall grew increasingly modest.

Each day his army lingered in Kapua, they burned through the royal supplies for nothing.

There was no denying that another war was inevitable. Thus, the King’s staff began to send scouts to the south, aiming for the unification of South Nicopola. Upon learning this, the troops were invigorated. The majority were former Nicopolan mercenaries and raiders who still had blood debts to settle against Dawn.

Their issue with Dawn had many layers.

- There was hatred, born from being driven off whenever they tried to raid or plunder the Dawn barony.

- There was generational envy, for the Dawn barony had lived in peace and was blessed with fertile soil and bountiful harvests, while the rest of the region suffered.

- The rise of Nicopolan mercenaries in the last two centuries meant there was a significant portion of the population far removed from farming communities, and they easily believed that the Dawn had cursed the Nicopolan soil and stolen its bounty for their own land.

This made the conflict all the more deadly. There was hunger, hatred, envy, and, at its core, deep distrust.

“Before winter, I will dine in Dawn barony,” the King’s knights declared during the feast.

“To unite the people and save Nicopola from the Imperium’s ruin,” his adviser proclaimed, stirring loud cheers, clapping, and shouts of approval through the hall.

War was inevitable.

But it was all by design. The King’s court, born mostly of Centurian blood, cared little for the native Nicopolans or the rival migrants. A brutal war would do more than conquer. It would thin the hungry before winter. Let them die or let them kill. Either way, the Kingdom would profit.

Only two matters held the King and his mostly Centurian-descended court back.

One, while the officers were spirited and hungry for more estates to claim, driven by their recent victory, the army was still exhausted and brooding at the thought of another campaign.

Second, and of greater concern to the King, was Kapua itself.

King Nico feared it might be taken from him. The Lord of Dawn’s air vessel had always lingered in the back of his mind. He had heard distant reports of an airship being used to kidnap a lord in Midlandia, and he knew well what had happened in Kapua only a few months ago.

Though the ballistae were being made in greater numbers, giving the King some peace of mind, an unseen problem had arisen.

...

After a night of fierce thunderstorms that nearly flooded Kapua, more than a dozen men, including officers, died under strange circumstances. Some drowned in their flooded cellars, a few were struck by falling clay tiles while at rest, but the worst was a night patrol along the wall, all of whom slipped and fell to their deaths in the storm’s wind.

Finding the circumstances suspicious, the King ordered an investigation. Many in his court feared that the Dawn had hidden agents within the city. Nothing was found, yet the deaths continued. On the second night, more than two dozen men perished. Some were discovered drowned in gutters, others impaled upon fences, their skulls shattered at the foot of stairs, or hanging lifeless from tangled clotheslines.

Rumors of assassins spread among the ranks. Half frightened, the King’s troops took matters into their own hands. Able-bodied men among the surviving townsfolk were seized. Many were cruelly tortured and locked away, yet the killings did not cease.

On the third day, a group of men-at-arms was found dead, suffocated in their sleep after mistaking burning coal for firewood and failing to open the windows. None believed such a thing could happen, and so more suspects were rounded up and hung upside down in the plaza.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

But the situation only grew worse.

As the suspects were being rounded up in broad daylight, a knight and his squire were crushed when a speeding cart lost control in a narrow, dead-end street and struck them. Both succumbed to their injuries.

The chandelier blazed with light, its glow caught on polished brass. The air was rich with the musky perfume and sweet incense, drifting thickly through the grand chamber where King Nico sat upon his seat, surrounded by learned men who sought to soothe his weary mind from the troubles that plagued the city.

“As is the nature of all things in this world, it is only right for a leader to rise in times of turmoil,” one lecturer declared, his tone smooth and flattering. “Your Majesty’s ascension was not merely natural but bears the marks and signs of divine favor.”

King Nico, still striking despite the dark hollows beneath his eyes, leaned back and argued, “But what if someone were to say that I have no claim or legitimacy?”

“Your Majesty, you are the people’s will made manifest,” the man replied quickly. “If the Nicopolans, old and young, noble or common, stand with you, why should you heed the words of those who envy your reign? It is the people who make the kingdom—”

The King cut him off with a sharp snort. “And how can you tell if the people truly wish for me?”

“Their will is plain, Your Majesty. They obey your command, fill your ranks with recruits, and your coffers with coin.”

“Any warlord can do that,” King Nico argued.

“But no warlord would trouble himself to save his people,” the third lecturer replied, his voice sharp. “Your Majesty did what others could not. Though descended from the grand bloodline of the Centurian, you chose to remain among the Nicopolans. You pacified the warring lords and mercenaries, bound them beneath your banner, and protected the innocents. Who else could have done the same?”

At that, the King fell silent, satisfied, and nodded slowly. For once, he found no reason to argue and enjoyed the notion that he was truly fit to reign.

His Centurian guards and staff were also amused by the performance, exchanging glances and slight nods.

“So, what do you think about Dawn?” the King asked, changing the subject.

“Unfit to rule,” the first lecturer was quick to answer.

“Insignificant,” the second added.

“An old wrong that must be corrected,” the third commented. “The Ageless, wise as he was, erred when he granted that House its land.”

“His land belongs to the Nicopolans, yet he never offered aid, even when in a position to help. A wretched neighbor.” The first one grew heated in his rhetoric. “Instead of support, he fought our people at their weakest hour.”

“That made him a traitor,” the second said, his tone stern and theatrical. “He’s an immoral man whose name time will forget, just like his Lowlandian ally, the black-haired impostor. A mere ripple upon the fabric of history that will be flattened and erased by righteous people.”

The King drank from his half-filled goblet of wine. He had heard more and more of this black-haired man who had won wars without pause. “Rumor has it that he commands a legion of beastmen still alive and thriving in the mountains.”

“Proof of his rebellion against the Imperium he ought to serve,” the first lecturer blurted, his voice sharp as a curse.

“A character as defective as the Lord of Dawn,” the second added in agreement.

“By hunting and defeating his beastmen, Your Majesty will show the world your magnanimous leadership. Your banner alone will be worthy to rise above the Capital Palace, ruined though she may be, and restore order to the realm, so that the common folk may at last be freed from the shackles of chaos and celebrate their deliverance.”

King Nico nodded ever so slightly and muttered, “A star rising from the Imperium’s ashes.” He then turned toward the three lecturers. “But what of his string of victories?”

“No doubt gained through the nefarious strength of beastmen.”

“An opportunist fool who turned beastmen against his own kind. His name shall be ridiculed, mocked, and cursed for eternity.”

King Nico snorted, finding it amusing. “But can I win against beastmen, then?”

“The old tales tell of losing a hundred men to slay a single beastman. Yet Your Majesty commands valiant men in fine armor and rich in experience. No beastman shall endure,” the first lecturer replied swiftly, as he always did.

The second had no answer, so the third spoke instead. “Your Majesty need not fear such a foolish man. In his ambition, he likely offered his men’s flesh to satiate the beastmen. But to appease such inhuman allies, sooner or later, his own men would rebel. I have heard there was already a great uprising in his domain, and he may well be dead.”

The King chuckled. He had indeed heard of the rebellion from one of his guests. “A foolish man,” he concluded.

“Righteous men will always prevail, as foretold by the Ancients,” the first lecturer replied.

Intrigued, the King asked, “And who would those righteous men be?”

The first lecturer bowed as he answered, “Certainly, Your Majesty, and those you call allies. For enemies are many, and you would be wise to keep a truthful and reliable ally.”

“But I have yet to find an ally.”

Seizing the moment, the third lecturer remarked, “The clans of the Mountain are good people. They have aided your kingdom with information worth its weight in gold.”

“And they ask for little,” the second added, regaining his voice. “Only that their trade be allowed, honest as it has been for centuries.”

The King snorted. “Indeed, I have accepted them as guests. Yet I never saw mere smugglers as allies, at best, subjects.”

“Then summon them, and command them as you see fit.”

“Their unique abilities and loyalty to Your Majesty’s cause would be invaluable to your reign.”

There was no dissenting voice, for many among the court, lecturers, and staff alike, had long received favors from the Mountain Clans. From Three Hills’ fine wine, jewelry fit for a king, perfumes that captivate lovers, strong horses, to decadent white sugar, rock salt, olive oil, spices, and, most lucratively, women and children along with exotic nomadic people, these smugglers had it all. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

And the goods had flowed even more freely of late, since the Mountain was now besieged, and they grew desperate.

King Nico turned to his guard captain. “Now that we have spoken of them, may I trouble you to summon that guest to me?”

“Certainly, My King,” the older Centurian-born man replied. He stepped away to fetch the guest, but not before assigning his most trusted guard to remain at the King’s side.

Both the King and the captain knew these guests were no common smugglers.

The King watched him go and recalled reports that at least one of the guests had walked through dark corners and corridors with ease, moving as if able to see in the dark, whether by an innate gift or through possession of a champion’s secret, a perfect gemstone of might.

The captain did not need to walk far.

A woman with long hair, draped in a lustrous red silken dress, was already waiting at the foot of the stairs. Her face held a calm, dangerous beauty, with half-lidded eyes and the faintest curl to her lips. Her presence and scent were intoxicating, the kind that lured men to their ruin.

***

*This happens quite often because many follow multiple novels at the same time, and sometimes characters get mixed up, or old details lost. So here is a kind note: if any of you feel that King Nico is “dumbed down,” let me point out that his introduction a few chapters ago literally showed him ignoring his army, their infighting, the city, and even the conquered citizens. He was far more interested in finding a woman to share his bed, or his victory celebration. He is not suddenly dumbed down; he has been that kind of character from the start. And sadly history is full of characters like him that still wield vast authority and power.