Horizon of War Series-Chapter 233: Chains Worn Thin

Chains Worn Thin

Middle Sea, Strait of Three Hills

Along the rocky shore, a few small fishing boats bobbed in the gentle waves, their crews pausing to watch the approaching fleet. The salty breeze carried the scent of the open sea, mingling with the faint tang of drying fish and smoke from distant cooking fires. Further inland, small huts lay nestled among the cliffs, their roofs glowing under the summer sun. The cove wasn’t a bustling port, but it was home to those who knew how to survive there, enduring the heat, the jagged rocks, and the violent crash of waves.

As the ships entered the narrow inlet, people emerged from the cliffsides and caves, initially wary. No messengers had warned of their arrival, and a fleet returning without one was rarely a good sign. Yet they were still brethren, so when the first galley reached the shore with its oars raised, voices rose in greeting. Names were called, backs were slapped, and hands clasped in warm welcome.

Before long, barrels of ale were cracked open to quench the thirst of the weary rowers as they cooled off in the shade of coconut trees. The women of the village began preparing food, correctly guessing that these returning men had set out to sea without adequate provisions.

It was a merry affair, but the leaders of this failed expedition received no such welcome.

A group of armed men, led by an elder, approached. After a brief exchange, they swiftly assigned escorts to take the leaders away. The captain and his charming second-in-command were among those led up a narrow trail, winding deep into the mountains. The path grew steeper with each step as they climbed toward the heart of their hidden home.

After days at sea, they looked weary and haggard. Even for the Mountain People, the prospect of sleeping on the mountain road for several days was a harsh homecoming.

The only group who followed along happily was Roderic and his men. He was merely tagging along to the mountain city, as he was unlikely to take the blame for the failed expedition. In fact, this failure was a boon to him.

His brethren’s failure might be the stepping stone he needed to secure full command, or at least an independent detachment. He had grown tired of being sidelined by the elders.

Roderic knew they feared him, and it wasn’t just because of the wealth and prestige his clan had amassed. It was because he belonged to the hardline faction of the younger generation, those who had grown tired of living in the shadow of the mountains.

While they still shared an identity and hatred for the Nicopolans, they saw their history as an impediment. There was no reason for them to remain smugglers, hiding their power and influence in the shadows. They wanted to rise, to become rulers with true authority. If men like Lord Jorge of Three Hills could do it, then there was no reason they could not.

With each passing generation, their voices had grown louder. And now, with the Imperium crumbling, they had their chance. If they stepped out into the open and exercised their rule, they could carve out a new kingdom. With the mountains at their backs and the sea before them, they could withstand whatever their enemies sent at them. Their foes would be left with only two choices: accept their rule or face annihilation.

The first step was for Roderic to gain command, take Three Hills by surprise, and marry one of Lord Jorge's relatives. Even the shogunate would struggle to breach Three Hills’ magnificent walls, well-supplied and manned by the Mountain People.

The elders would certainly try to wrest back control, but Roderic would rally his clan and powerful allies. Knowing his people's deep-rooted infatuation with Three Hills, he gambled that even more would flock to his cause. He would need their pressure, as he couldn't simply cast the elders aside. Their support was crucial. With Lord Avery's airship still looming as a serious threat, the elders' vast network for relics and weaponry remained indispensable.

To set everything in motion, Roderic needed only an opportunity. The failed expedition to Corinthia would add many names to the growing list of disgraced commanders. Like it or not, the elders could no longer pass him and his clan for the leadership role. He was the remaining most experienced commander with an unblemished record.

***

Lansius

It was the time after lunch when Lansius and Audrey could afford to lounge in their small hall and spend time together. Nobody ventured outside at midday while summer was in full swing. The air remained pleasantly cool, a small luxury courtesy of his mage wife.

Audrey, dressed in her black kimono-like clothing, scooped a spoonful of berry-laden sorbet milk pudding from the small plate in her hand. The physician and Valerie had insisted she maintain her nutrition during pregnancy.

Lansius sat nearby, reading reports. He had returned from his first tour two days ago after visiting several nearby Houses to build relations. Despite the nature of the mission, he hadn’t spoken much, letting Sir Omin and Sir Harold handle the discussions. He had wanted Sir Michael, who was both charming and diplomatic, but the man had been too busy with other responsibilities, such as overseeing the workshops in Ornietia.

Fortunately, his army of scribes proved excellent at guiding the discussions. Lansius wasn’t gifted in social talk, and not being born into Midlandian nobility meant there were countless subtle customs he might have missed, risking offense to his hosts.

He put down the last letter and began rereading it to see if he had overlooked anything.

Fortunately, all the reports indicated that progress had been good.

Calub provided an update on Korelia's city wall project. The laborers were in good condition, morale remained high, and payments to the mason guild were on schedule. Another fountain and small plaza had been completed. Separate reports detailed the progress on housing for the Shogunate members, which was coming along well.

On a closer front, Lansius finally received word from Lubina.

Possibly, feeling threatened by his thousands of troops, the North Midlandia Lords had sent a messenger to offer a truce, but without any concessions. The offer did not bode well for Lansius, who instructed his scribe to remind them that they were equally responsible for the assassination order, and because of that, he held the right of reprisal over Lubina and the rest of Midlandia.

While Lansius ultimately wished for peace and had no desire for the rest of Midlandia, he would not simply surrender this vast claim in exchange for a few years of truce. If they wanted a deal, they needed to offer something of equal value.

Meanwhile, several North Midlandia Houses had secretly requested a meeting. Their envoys had arrived in Ploiesta and were being escorted to Canardia. Lansius hoped to build relations, as he would need allies across the river if the situation turned for the worse. For now, he would be content with them serving as his eyes and ears in North Midlandia politics.

As for Edessa, the last remaining perpetrator behind the assassination attempt, there was only silence.

Lansius’ envoy, backed by the Guilds, had been rejected outright.

Edessa’s silence placed the barony firmly in his sights. He needed to train and dispatch more agents there, as war seemed inevitable. The problem was, the Shogunate didn’t even have the manpower to hold Southern Midlandia firmly, let alone invade Edessa while still contending with the northern Midlandian lords. Thus, the need to win the populace’s support.

"You know," Audrey said between bites, prompting Lansius to glance her way.

"This is our first summer without war," she continued.

Lansius’ gaze turned distant as he recalled the past few years, each one marked by conflict. "Indeed," he said, pleased. "A welcome improvement." His voice carried a rare note of cheer.

She gazed at him and asked, "I heard about the bribe and corruption issues. You've assigned new surveyors, but is that all we can do?"

He met her gaze, admiring her cute face as she ate like a spoiled princess. "I have a bold plan in mind, but why the sudden interest?"

"No particular reason, except that I find their corrupt nature insulting," she replied in a firm tone.

"Me too," he reassured her. "However, we need to be careful. I don’t want to antagonize the rest of the nobles."

"You sound like a proper noble now," she commented playfully.

Lansius scoffed. "Is that a compliment or a mockery?"

Audrey let out a smug smile before asking, "Why are you so concerned about their support anyway? We can take them out."

"We probably could," he agreed before adding, "but that would only breed fear and distrust. The stronger we are, the more we will be viewed with suspicion. That’s why we must govern ourselves with the utmost moral standards and adhere to the rules, so they learn to trust us."

She slowly nodded and took another spoonful of the delicious-looking pudding.

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Lansius continued, "At the end of the day, if we don’t win their support, some noble could rally them against us."

"Then are we just waiting for them to show their hand, like when Korelia went against the Western Lord Coalition?"

"It would be too destructive," Lansius said. "I want Midlandia to remain intact. With so many threats out there, we need this region to prosper. Besides, the situation is different from what we faced in Korelia. At that time, we had no choice but to secure military supremacy. But here, we have another option."

Audrey's gaze sharpened. "What option?"

"To win the people's hearts and minds."

"And how would you do that?" Audrey asked skeptically. "Festivals? Handing out free food and ale? Gifts to the nobles?"

"That’s one approach, but generosity alone isn’t enough to win their loyalty. We need something more potent."

"Like what?" Her hazel-brown eyes flickered with curiosity. "And how exactly are you going to win their loyalty?"

"With a charm offensive," he revealed.

"A charm what?" Audrey stifled a giggle.

Instead of answering, Lansius asked, "Why do you think I’m selling beds, carriages, hair elixirs, and soap?"

"Aside from making money?" She thought for a moment, her eyes wandering before she shook her head.

"What we’re really selling isn’t the goods itself," he answered.

She blinked. "O, husband, you're trying to sell something that doesn't exist?"

"Yes, an idea, or in this case, an image tied to the product," Lansius clarified with a smile. "The problem with the Midlandians is that they see us and our Lowlandian army as uncivilized brutes. We need to show them otherwise."

Audrey wasn't easily convinced. "Why does it matter how they see us? It's just their opinion. Maybe it will lead to some bad gossip, but I doubt it will have any real effect."

Lansius chuckled softly. "Tell me, if a merchant claimed to sell the fine clothes but wore a poorly embroidered tunic, would you believe him?"

Audrey chuckled, catching his point.

He quickly added, "What about a champion who boasts of his deeds but wears shoddy armor?"

"I get it," she muttered.

Lansius sat back and explained, "As leaders, our image is vital. We must be seen as capable in our actions, benevolent to the needy, and ruthless against criminals and our enemies. If we project the wrong image, we lose support. Then comes doubt in our rule, which weakens our men’s morale. Next, the guards and staff start taking bribes, fewer men answer the call to battle, and eventually, there is desertion in the face of war."

Audrey took another bite, pondering his words before asking, "So what kind of image do we get from selling beds, carriages, hair elixir?"

"What do you think?" Lansius asked. "What impression would a new lord make if he's able to provide comfortable beds, a scented hair elixir, and the finest carriage the nobles have ever ridden in?"

She tapped her spoon against the plate thoughtfully. "That he knows how to live well?"

"That’s one way to put it," he said with amusement. "My problem is being seen as a barbaric foreigner and a cruel warlord. Now, I have to show them I’m just as refined as they are, or at least make them think better of me."

Lansius' approach relied on quality through association. By offering superior goods, he shaped how people perceived him. Beds, carriages, soap, and shampoo all helped challenge his bad reputation, as did the books and stories he had written in Korelia. He was proving that he was not just a conqueror but also an educated and innovative man with refined taste.

This image was further reinforced by his airship and his firefighter groups, both of which had proven invaluable. He hoped that, in time, his warlike reputation would be seen as a shield for the realm and its people, not as the mark of an invader.

Audrey set her empty plate on the table and asked, "But what about the soap?"

"What about it?"

"I heard sales aren’t meeting expectations," she responded.

"Whose expectations? Valerie’s?" Lansius chuckled. "Of course, soap was going to fail. I predicted it. And I’m sure you know why."

Audrey inhaled softly. "Tallow-based soap is cheap, but most people just use wood ash straight from the fireplace."

"Exactly. Wood ash is free, readily available, and works well enough, though it's a bit harsh on the skin. In reality, there’s little reason for most people to buy soap unless they are wealthy or need it for gifts or special occasions."

Audrey glanced at him. "Then why keep producing it?"

Lansius stared at her baby bump. "Because I’m making it for you."

"Me?" Audrey’s eyes widened.

"Yes. For our child’s birth. I want everyone involved to wash their hands with soap."

Even with slow sales, Lansius had invested in a workshop specializing in vegetable oil-based soap. Unlike tallow-based soap, he was developing a purer version of Castile soap, made from olive and laurel oils. With its high alkaline content and natural cleansing properties, he hoped it would be effective at killing bacteria while remaining gentle on the skin. It remained unscented to keep costs down and avoid interfering with medical procedures.

His goal was to equip his medical teams and prepare for Audrey’s labor. The last thing he wanted was a preventable infection endangering her.

Not that it seemed likely. Now a mage, she exuded such power that he half-suspected her Ancient genes could devour viruses and pathogens like snacks.

"What exactly does the soap do?" Audrey asked.

"Let's see..." Lansius pondered the best way to answer. "Say you touch a bit of oil, honey, or grease. It may look clean, but you can still feel the residue, even if you rinse it with plenty of water."

Audrey nodded easily.

Lansius raised his right hand, showing her his palm. "Our hands may look clean, but they can still carry disease. The same goes for the knives we use to treat patients. We can wipe them clean, but unless they’re boiled, they may still spread infection."

"Ah," she murmured. "Yes, ever since you insisted on boiling knives, bandages, and tools to prevent cross-contamination, the survival chance of those treated after battle has been incredibly high."

Lansius smiled proudly. "I’m glad you noticed."

"Of course," she snapped. "I know my men and care about their well-being."

Lansius chuckled, amused. "I forgot. You’re the soldiers’ princess."

"Princess?" She was surprised.

"My tongue slipped. I must have been reading too many hero tales," he said dismissively.

Audrey smirked and teased, "Your veil of humility is growing thin against your ambition."

Lansius found her insistence amusing. "It is just a phrase, soldiers' princess."

"I have never heard it before. It is not well known."

"It is in a book," he reassured her.

Audrey giggled. "Still won’t tell me?"

Lansius' eyes narrowed. "Tell you what?"

"That you are thinking about it." Audrey's gaze turned hypnotic. "A crown."

"That is a dangerous thought," he replied firmly. They had discussed this before.

"I am not saying you should claim a princely title and turn all our allies against you. But at this point, we might soon have a problem within our ranks."

Lansius frowned. "What problem?"

"A voice from the council warned me that some of our retainers might grow dissatisfied. With you remaining a baron, they cannot rise higher than a knight. After all, a baron cannot even create a baronet."

"Omin, huh..." Lansius pondered for a moment. "At its core, this is about wealth and land—"

"There is also prestige and their place in the hierarchy. If you stay a baron, there is little you can do to address it."

Lansius let out a heavy sigh, trying to think of a solution, but every path seemed complicated. His Shogunate should have been built around Daimyo, feudal lords who acted as governors. But here, he was bound by the Imperium's noble peerage, which he couldn't cast aside so easily.

Worse, he couldn't force these Houses to send their families to Korelia without risking rebellion. The situation was akin to if the Toyotomi regime of Japan had successfully invaded and conquered Ming China instead of getting bogged down and defeated in Korea.

It was uncharted waters even for Lansius.

Audrey rose from her chair and stepped closer, resting her hands on his shoulders. With quiet grace, she eased onto his lap. "We will deal with it later," she murmured. "Right now, everyone is happy and content. So push it from your mind. I am sure you have other priorities to handle."

"Only one, and she is right in front of me," Lansius said, running his fingers through her hair. It was smooth, almost silky, and carried a subtle fragrance. He breathed in deeply, appreciating the scent. The hair elixir had worked wonders on her.

Audrey hummed in satisfaction, enjoying the gentle caress as Lansius' hand wandered lower, settling on her rear.

He gave it a squeeze, finding the firm muscle beneath a soft layer. Not even maternity had changed her that much.

She reacted by pressing her body closer, the fine linen and silk of her summer raiment doing little to conceal the curve of her chest. The warmth of her skin seeped through the fabric, teasing his senses.

Lansius' gaze lingered, his fascination plain to see. Audrey’s expression turned sultry as she placed a hand on the side of his head, guiding him toward her chest. With her leading, he buried his face in her bosom and inhaled her scent. Freshly cleaned linen, floral notes from her hair, and the faint, familiar trace of her sweat blended into something uniquely hers.

Audrey whispered into his ear, her voice like silk. "I doubt you'll be satisfied with just this."

Lansius' eyes met hers as her lips curled into a playful smile.

"You're strong enough. Carry me," she added.

Lansius chuckled at her suggestion. He felt the warmth of her body pressing against him and shifted forward, planting his feet firmly on the floor before tightening his hold. With a grunt of effort, he pushed himself up from the cushioned seat, adjusting his grip as he lifted her.

"Drey, you are not nearly heavy enough," he said softly as he carried her to the chamber for a midday rest. "You need to eat more for the child."

Audrey smirked in satisfaction. Aside from brutal combat training, the key to winning this woman’s heart was tasty food.

***

Strait of Three Hills, Hidden Cove

While the disgraced commanders of the failed expedition to Corinthia marched toward the mountain city, celebrations carried on in the village near the hidden cove. Hundreds of men gathered around the fire, talking and boasting about the battle between Dawn and Corinthia. They spoke as if they had fought in it themselves, despite having fled almost at the first sign of trouble.

The truth was, they had been caught off guard. They relied heavily on their network of spies in Dawn, but the spies had failed to warn them. Their last message had assured them that Lord Avery was still in Dawn, preoccupied with matters of governance. Yet, as it turned out, Lord Avery was somehow in Corinthia, leading the assault against them.

The surprise attack overwhelmed their planned defenses, which had been prepared for an assault from the South Hill route. Instead, the enemy struck directly from the beach. Despite losing an airship, Dawn's forces swiftly broke the city's hastily formed garrison, making victory all but impossible for the defenders.

Without prior intelligence or warning from their allies, uncertain of the enemy's exact numbers, and unnerved by the sheer audacity of the attack, the Mountain People stationed there were thrown into disarray. The fact that Dawn had managed to land a sizable force undetected only deepened their fear. Thus, they made the unequivocal decision to abandon their posts, flee to their boats, and retreat home.

Yet the loss of Corinthia was not their greatest failure. The true failure lay in abandoning their own brethren amidst the panic and chaos of their escape. More than thirty were missing in the city, presumed dead or captured. That number did not include another twenty who had been leading a contingent to counter the Shogunate troops moving from South Hill.

Any prisoner in Dawn’s hands could easily expose their identities and operations. This mistake would weigh heavier on the elders than the loss of an ally. To them, Corinthia had been nothing more than a convenient scapegoat, bait to lure Lord Avery and his airships into battle.

Despite their failures, the night on the cove was filled with laughter. Stories of Corinthian incompetence became the evening’s entertainment. With no regard for the blood they had spilled or the hundreds who had died because of their schemes, they took turns mocking their allies. They jeered at the defenders they had once trained and fought alongside in raiding trading ships, recounting how those same men had stumbled through the battle like witless fools.

There was no guilt, no remorse. To the Mountain People, it was merely a contest of survival, justified and fair. The dead Corinthians and Dawns were no different from fallen leaves decaying in the undergrowth, unworthy of concern or regret.

For centuries, they had lived this way, profiteering in the shadows, scheming, and shaping the fate of towns and men without ever being seen.

The coastal wind howled, sweeping embers from the great bonfire at the heart of the feast. Flames leapt hungrily, fed by the gusts, roaring like a beast let loose upon the night.

Beyond the cove, in the vast expanse of the darkened sky, a black silhouette glided silently through the clouds.

***