Hanne
patreon
Chapter 242 A Line Drawn
🕑 Added 2025-04-18 13:32:54 +0000 UTCEast Nicopola Mountain
It was the fifth day since the start of their ascent and the battle with the mountain people. The fighting had died down two days earlier, when Servius chose to rest his troops in the newly occupied village rather than stubbornly press against bulwark after bulwark. He had learned that the enemy had been reinforced with groups of crossbowmen. Whoever these Mountain People were, they were not to be underestimated.
But even during the rest, Servius and his men hadn’t been idle. He had ordered his cavalry to descend the mountain and conduct a patrol in force, both to deter further arson and to restore order. Their other objective was to find the culprit behind the attacks. He had also tasked his Gray Skull Legion to provide carpenters and master masons from within their ranks to construct a suitable siege engine.
Some suggested building a simple archer tower on a cart, but with space for only two crossbowmen on top, it would be hard to go against the enemy’s wooden and stone bulwark, which could support a dozen crossbowmen or more. In the end, Servius settled on a battering ram.
The siege engine needed to be small and light enough to traverse the mountain roads yet protective enough to withstand alchemist fire and crossbow bolts. Using cart parts as the base, they tore down two village houses to salvage roofing, structural beams, and a large timber to serve as the battering ram.
When his fellow condottiere heard of Servius’ plight, they sent over an iron ram tip from their collection of captured loot. It was unpolished and unadorned but sharply pointed, sturdy, and more than capable of doing the job.
Old Servius watched as the battering ram took shape from the cool shade of a house porch. From the outside, it resembled a small, sturdy house on wheels. Its sloped roof extended nearly to the ground, providing cover against projectiles. Inside, it was empty and floorless, with wooden framing that doubled as handgrips for the crew. A large, heavy timber, suspended by ropes from the support beams, hung at the center as the battering ram.
In a few days, the siege engine would be complete. Its small size made it easy to build, though some lingering doubts remained about its protection. Still, plenty of men volunteered to crew it. The consensus was that the protection would be enough since they were up against a makeshift bulwark, not a heavily fortified castle or city wall.
His men had also gathered plenty of leather to lay over the battering ram’s roof. When wetted, it would help protect the structure from being burned by alchemist fire.
"Sir Commander Servius," one of his lieutenants called as he approached.
Relaxed in his seat on the porch, Servius gave a slight gesture for the newcomer to speak while his guards and squire stood watch nearby. Behind them, the staff were busy compiling records for the legion’s ledger, including deeds, injuries, casualties, loot taken, and other necessary reports.
Under the watchful eyes of Servius' guards and squire, the lieutenant came to a respectful halt and said, "Some of us were thinking, wouldn't it be great if you could call for the Lord of Dawn’s assistance?"
Servius watched the man with a flat expression, as if annoyed, but then replied, "Yes, if only I could. An airship would be perfect in a situation like this. Like a dragon from the old tales, it can breathe fire too. Alas, Lord Avery has to save his own neck first."
The lieutenant looked troubled. "What do you mean? Is the Lord of Dawn having trouble in Corinthia?"
"No. His battle in Corinthia is finished. The issue he's facing now is in Kapua."
"He's back in Kapua?" the lieutenant asked, surprised.
"Indeed," Servius said slowly, taking a moment before continuing. "He's likely facing a large army raised by an impostor who calls himself King of Nicopola."
"That's outrageous..." the lieutenant muttered in disbelief.
Servius nodded in agreement. For the past three centuries, Nicopola had been fractured by rivalries and wars between its many regions. Every province saw itself as distinct, proudly guarding its identity and independence. No region would ever accept a single ruler over them. They would submit only to the Ageless or the Imperium, whose weakening alliance of baronies and earldoms still held nominal authority.
For a Nicopolan to declare himself king was unthinkable. So when someone finally did, they knew he had to be an outsider.
"My hunch is that he's a Centurian, backed by a host of Sarmartians," Servius said.
"They would be nothing but oppressors," his lieutenant replied.
"We can only blame ourselves for this," Servius said with a bitter chuckle. "We have good land and strong people, yet we wage war on ourselves too often. City against city, village against village. We've fought over borders, trade, even petty envy over an orchard."
His men stood quietly with their eyes lowered, burdened by the truth in his words.
"We were blinded by our own quarrels," Servius continued. "And when the great conflict came through our gates, we found ourselves too few, too divided, and too proud. We call ourselves the proud sons of Nicopola, born of illustrious mercenaries, yet a common famine brought us low. So low that an army of refugees, driven from their homeland, managed to knock us from the pedestal. Now, we are nothing but pariahs."
Though his voice remained flat, the bitterness beneath it was unmistakable. His words left a heaviness in the air, filling his men with guilt, remorse, and shame.
"This land was freed from beastmen by the heroes of old and shaped by the hands of the Ageless. Now, most of it lies in ruins. I pity us. What a disgrace to our generation."
Not wanting to be drowned in sorrow, the much younger lieutenant carefully shifted the topic. "Sir Commander, won't Lord Avery need help against this treasonous bastard?"
"That's the plan," Servius said, exhaling a long, deep sigh. "I only wish I could end this sooner, so we could send meaningful help to Kapua."
Suddenly, a commotion erupted on the far side of the village. Dozens of his men on standby rushed toward the scene in full gear. But the reaction did little to reassure Servius. "What is it?" he asked one of his guards, who personally ran ahead to investigate.
Before long, the guard returned with news that several scouts and climbers had been injured.
Servius rubbed his forehead with his only hand. The campaign had proven far more difficult than he had initially imagined.
His scouts had searched the surrounding terrain for alternative routes. They had found nothing suitable for moving armies or supply trains, but they did discover a possible path for a climbing team. Servius had given his approval to send thirty volunteers to scale the cliffs, infiltrate the enemy lines, gather intelligence, or wreak havoc at the rear. But now it seemed they had been discovered.
"Is this because of my incompetence?" Servius muttered bitterly.
"I doubt anyone could have predicted a defense like this," his squire said in support.
"Perhaps," Servius replied, then muttered again, "Or maybe the Lord Shogun expects too much of me."
His men exchanged uneasy glances. Meanwhile, Servius looked down at the iron hook that had replaced his right hand. "What I wouldn't give to have the Lord of Korelia here with us today."
At his words, the men around him unconsciously let out a sigh, their faces filled with the same longing for the one lord whose presence would have changed everything.
***
Lansius
Keeping the momentum going, Lansius and his council had spent the past three days ensuring the new law was working as intended. They received several reports of bribery, but the sums involved and the nature of the crimes were deemed too minor. After conducting a preliminary investigation, they decided not to escalate. In such cases, Lansius rotated the official to another region and assigned a firmer one in their place to break the cycle and serve as a catalyst for change.
He wanted the nobles to understand that change was already underway. Unless they asked for clemency and changed their ways, they would face consequences. In the meantime, he did not neglect his training.
Under Audrey's watchful eyes, he trained with his swordsmaster, both in and out of armor. His regimen was coupled with physical therapy; a reputable masseuse was brought in to help restore flexibility to his injured wrist and ankle.
They also recommended medical hot baths, and Lansius was all too pleased to enjoy a moment of relief while he could.
Meanwhile, Audrey’s pregnancy was entering its final stage. The physician said she could expect labor at any time. According to tradition, she was expected to remain restricted to her chambers. But no one dared to impose that on Lady Audrey. Even Lansius only asked if she wanted such treatment. She replied that it would be very boring.
Lansius recalled what he knew of modern medicine and believed that confinement often did more harm than good for expectant mothers. He chose not to enforce it. Instead, he simply asked her to avoid strenuous activity, as the child might still be premature.
The following morning, Lansius was informed that the four summoned bailiffs were ready to report. Most had arrived the night before from their assigned jurisdictions.
He summoned the Council and, before midday, took his seat in the Council Chamber to hear their findings. The assembled staff included Sir Harold, Ingrid, Francisca, and Dame Daniella, who had made herself available between her duties setting up the Shogunate Korelia Yield Bank in Canardia.
From the four bailiffs, the council learned more about the actual situation. Unsurprisingly, their findings confirmed what the legal scribes had already revealed.
Despite the new administration, the nobles, along with their extended families and cronies, still behaved like minor princelings, refusing to change their ways.
"Do you think that if we give them time, once the new law takes effect, they might change?" Dame Daniella asked after listening to their reports.
The four men, each from a different background, exchanged glances, quietly deferring to one another to begin.
One of them, a knight from Arvena, finally spoke. "While many are respectable knights, esquires, and landlords, some Houses are no better than bandits in fine clothes."
Lansius and Sir Harold withheld comment, allowing Dame Daniella to lead the questioning.
"What exactly do they do?" she asked.
"Land fraud, bribes, breaking contracts. All kinds of things. Most of the time, it's too petty to pursue, but some of it disrupts the local peace."
"Explain," Dame Daniella said.
"Under my watch, I witnessed a local knight send his men to collect money from travelers and villagers under the guise of repairing a bridge that didn’t need fixing. They simply camped in front of it, pretending to work, but they wouldn’t let anyone pass without paying."
His story mildly surprised the staff, though the other bailiffs remained impassive.
The Arvenian bailiff continued, "In another case, they ordered their men to deliberately soak a road with water from a nearby stream, turning it into mud. That way, carts and travelers couldn't pass unless they paid to borrow the men's wooden planks."
The Chief Bailiff commented from the side, "I'm aware of a House far east of Canardia that deliberately cut down trees to block a public road, then made sure no one could clear them. The only way through was across their land, and they allowed passage only in exchange for coin."
"There seems to be a recurring theme," Dame Daniella remarked.
The Chief Bailiff and his men readily nodded.
It was clear to everyone that once someone found easy money in such schemes, others would quickly follow.
"After centuries of unchecked wealth and power, the actions of some nobles, landowners, and wealthy merchants have become unbearable to the common people," the Chief Bailiff said, summarizing the sentiment.
Lansius turned his gaze toward the remaining bailiff who had yet to speak, offering a silent nudge to step forward.
Familiar with Lansius’ ways, a bailiff who was also a Midlandian captain in his army, responded. "It’s unscrupulous, yes, but I’d still rather face that than what I’m dealing with now."
Dame Daniella met his eyes. "Please, share the details of your case."
The second bailiff explained his case. "Several years ago, some villagers cleared new land near a knight's manor. He said nothing, letting them work it. However, his House quietly claimed the land through the previous Lord. Now that the land is fully cultivated and nearly ready for harvest, the knight has declared it’s his and is demanding half the yield. Harvest is fast approaching, and both sides are threatening violence and preparing to take up arms."
A dry chuckle escaped Lansius, drawing their attention.
"These kinds of crimes are petty, foolish, yet deeply troubling," he said, then turned to the Chief Bailiff. "I think I know how to settle this one."
Lansius waited as the Chief Bailiff, seated with the rest of the staff at a long table, prepared his quill and paper.
"Under the authority vested in me, I decree the following: if the knight can produce proper documents proving the purchase of the land, then the land will belong to him. However, the harvest belongs to those who cultivated it."
The Chief Bailiff promptly wrote down the decision, with Dame Daniella assisting as needed.
Lansius added, "Furthermore, since he bought the land before it was ready for cultivation, he must also pay for the development costs. Assign a land surveyor to provide a fair estimate. If the knight cannot pay, then the deal is postponed. They may wait or resell the land if they wish."
The four bailiffs nodded in agreement, finding the judgment sound and fair.
With that matter settled, the third bailiff, a reemployed one from the previous administration, raised his voice. "My Lord, not to be the bearer of bad news, but there have also been more concerning cases."
Lansius’ gaze sharpened. "Speak," he said firmly.
The old bailiff began, "There are many unsolved murder cases going back generations. Not because of anything mysterious, but because even when the evidence clearly points to someone, if they are noble-born, they are rarely prosecuted."
Seeing that Lansius and his staff were attentive and giving him time, the old bailiff continued, "In several manors, the cases were so horrific that the surrounding villages remain nearly abandoned to this day. In the past, Lord Bengrieve acted only once against a particularly brutal case. He sent the Lord’s men to apprehend the perpetrator. The condemned was the son of a wealthy knight. He was declared possessed by a fell beast and sent to live out his days in a monastery."
"I remember that story," the Midlandian bailiff muttered, stroking his chin.
Meanwhile, Lansius exhaled sharply, deep in thought.
His staff and the bailiffs looked at him with guarded expectations. They knew this was not simply about crime, justice, and punishment, but also about the risk of antagonizing new allies they would likely need in the conflicts ahead.
Since Lansius had yet to speak, Dame Daniella asked the old bailiff, "Is this still happening?"
"If we allow it, then yes," the old man replied, his voice flat. "For cases with strong evidence, we must review them and bring the perpetrators to justice. Only then will the murders stop, and the manor and surrounding village begin anew."
Suddenly, Lansius raised his hand, and all eyes turned to him.
"Too long they've walked without consequence," he said, then added in a firm, calculating tone, "It’s time they fear something."
At his words, Sir Harold and Francisca responded immediately with eager, focused gazes. Meanwhile, the rest of the bailiffs stood a little straighter, their shoulders set more firmly, a new air of authority settling over them.
Lansius had done more than just listen; he had affirmed their role and backed it with the full authority his House could muster.
***
Canardia
By the Lord’s order, every town and city was to establish an office for the bailiff, where justice would be served and cases settled. Talented officials from the previous administration, those with proven records of fairness and integrity, were recruited to fill these posts.
These buildings, now referred to as courthouses, were repurposed from other function. They were not designed to appear administrative but were decorated to command respect and instill fear.
Inside its hall, long wooden tables were arranged solely for the bailiff and his assistants. Armed guards stood along both sides of the chamber to maintain order. A ranking officer from the army was also integrated to lend weight to the court’s decisions. More intimidating, however, was the display of instruments along one wall, where whips, canes, and a broad-bladed executioner’s axe were kept as if ready for use.
Under Imperium law, corporal punishment was the norm. Heads or limbs placed on pikes were not uncommon in conflict-prone regions, but rarely were the tools of justice displayed so openly.
Rumors quickly spread that those found guilty there would face swift judgment and equally swift punishment.
Each courthouse was outfitted with high surrounding walls, a holding cell for the condemned, and a guarded safehouse for those submitting reports or testimony. More than just a place to hear witnesses, it resembled quasi-military compounds, staffed with dozens of armed men and dedicated to law enforcement.
And surprisingly, they were made accessible.
The town's crier had said that anyone could strike the bell outside the gate and wait for a guard to let them in. Their case would be heard, and their report investigated.
Still, not even those with cases in hand dared to knock on its doors.
Though the people had grown familiar with the Black Lord, many still harbored doubt.
But the injustices in Midlandia were many. And eventually, someone would step forward, someone with no other place to go.
Three days after the courthouse opened in Canardia, an old woman stepped forward and rang the bell. The sound cut through the morning air, drawing the attention of everyone nearby.
A passerby returning from the market square turned to a nearby peddler whose cart was being browsed by a few women.
“What’s with that old woman?” he asked.
The peddler of combs and women’s trinkets was eager to share. “Ah, poor thing. She's been here for two weeks, asking for help from anyone who’d listen,” he said with a sigh. “Her son and a few men from her village followed a knight to war. They thought they were fighting for Lord Bengrieve. But the knight turned and joined Sir Reginald. He joined the wrong side, and the boy died in the fighting. And now that knight won’t give a single coin to the families. Says he never even met them.”
One of the women browsing his wares asked quietly, “Who do you think is in the right?”
The peddler leaned in and spoke in a lower voice. “Everyone knows other knight Houses did the same. They wanted to appease the new ruler at that time, Reginald, but had plenty of doubts, so they sent their right had man, or a squire, and a handful of men. If things went well, they’d pay the families and keep the rest.”
The passerby sighed. “Poor woman.”
At that moment, the wide double doors of the courthouse swung open. A squad of men in matching red brigandines marched out and stood in formation, their boots heavy on the stone. Last to emerge was their officer, who called out, “Who struck the bell?”
The old woman raised a hand, her voice trembling. “I—I did.”
“What justice do you seek?” the officer asked.
She steadied herself and replied, “My son was deceived by the Ebensteins. He was told he’d be fighting for Lord Bengrieve, but the knight changed sides." Her voice cracked, and she began to sob. "My son gave his life in battle. Only his bloody tunic and knife returned, brought back by a kind survivor. But Sir Ebenstein...” She faltered, emotion tightening her throat.
“He refuses to honor my son, despite dying in his service. There are many others from my village," she pleaded.
The officer held her gaze for a moment, then silently motioned for her to enter with the guard behind her to form an escort.
The courthouse’s double doors remained open, wide and inviting, allowing passersby to glimpse the proceedings from the steps. A curious crowd began to gather, drawn in by the sight of justice taking place.
Not far from the scene, the peddler, his two customers, and the passerby stayed in place, choosing to watch from a distance.
“She’s seeking justice against the Ebensteins?” a nearby market hawker asked, shaking his head.
"There’s little hope,” the trinket peddler responded.
“What do you think will happen inside?” the passerby asked.
“What good could it do?” the peddler replied, polishing a small brass comb that easily caught the light and drew people to his cart. “At best, the Lord’s men will listen. But they’d never dare lay a hand on a knightly House, let alone the Ebensteins.”
One of the customers nodded. “It’s true. My husband told me that House Ebenstein was one of the first to surrender to Lord Lansius. Surely the Lord is fond of them and still needs their support.”
“They may not be as powerful as they once were,” the peddler added, “but the Ebensteins still have ties to many extended families.”
The mood outside the courthouse mirrored their doubts. The crowd murmured with the same skepticism. Still, more people continued to gather, drawn by the rare sight of someone daring to demand justice.
Those closest to the doorway began calling out tidings to the others in the back, relaying what they could see and hear from inside.
The woman had presented her case, speaking clearly as the courtroom listened. Now, the bailiff began asking pointed questions, seeking to understand the circumstances, uncover any underlying motives, and ensure that the law had indeed been broken. Meanwhile, his assistant quietly recorded the exchange.
At last, the bailiff demanded witnesses or proof. In response, the woman produced a letter.
“The Ebenstein’s men came to us with just a few coins. Barely enough to buy anything for the march, let alone support the families left behind,” she explained, weary and visibly stressed. “So his men wrote this letter to be exchanged for goods. We never used it. But now the knight House claims they never authorized anyone to write it.”
The officer took the letter and passed it to the bailiff. “This appears to be an oath of payment.”
“But it lacks a seal,” the bailiff’s assistant, seated to his left, pointed out.
“Still, we have a name and the handwriting of the one who issued it,” the bailiff muttered, studying the paper.
The assistant pressed further. “But… It’s House Ebenstein. We don’t have the authority.”
The bailiff nodded, aware that he could summon an esquire but not a knight. He turned his gaze toward the woman. “I can confirm that you have a case. But this matter lies beyond my power, and I cannot proceed further.”
Outside, the crowd let out a loud collective sigh. The result was just as they had feared. Even the new Lord's courthouse was powerless against the nobles and the wealthy.
But before they could drift away, the bailiff raised his voice again, undeterred by the murmurs beyond the door. “Therefore, I must call upon a higher authority to preside over this court.”
There was an immediate pause. People turned, startled. A ripple moved through the gathered crowd. Eyes widened.
Inside the hall, the assistant swallowed hard. The officer, by contrast, looked pleased. “Shall I make the request?”
“Yes,” the bailiff said, his tone sharp with finality. “Notify the Lord’s high staff to preside over this court.”
Outside, a stir of disbelief swept through the crowd. A case like this, a commoner's plea, had somehow drawn the attention of the high authority in the region. Murmurs turned into tense speculation. Skepticism lingered, but so did expectation.
When the messenger was dispatched, tens followed. He mounted quickly and rode hard toward the castle gates.
Word of the hearing spread quickly from person to person, down alleys and across streets, from doorways to courtyards, and through the market square. Before long, it felt as though all of Canardia had heard. Many abandoned their errands, and within the hour, the streets leading to the courthouse had become a sea of bodies. It seemed as if half the city had gathered.
Arguments broke out on every corner. Many doubted the Lord would send his top retainers for something so minor, especially a matter from the previous administration. Whatever the outcome, it would bring him no real benefit. Meanwhile, others insisted the well connected House Ebenstein was too valuable to risk offending.
However, from the road leading toward the castle, the crowd grew lively. Someone was coming. And the people gasped when they saw, but their eyes had not deceived them. Before them appeared a procession of cavalry and men in armor.
"Make way for the Lord of Midlandia!" the town criers at the front heralded in a clear voice.
Just as announced, riding at the center, flanked by his knights, was the Lord of Midlandia himself. His black hair was unmistakable while his deep-blue brigandine, trimmed in silver, caught the light with every step of his mount. His retinue rode behind him in finely polished armor. Above them, the sacred blue and bronze battle standard of House Lansius, the victor of many battles, streamed proudly against the wind.
Among the formation, alongside familiar veterans and renowned officers, walked the almost mythical half-beast, Francisca, her white furred limbs and golden eyes a striking contrast to the steel-clad cavalier around her.
The Black Lord had not given empty words of support to his officials. He had not sent his retinue. He had come himself. His men’s gazes were cold, their march sharp and warlike, sending a chill through the crowd. They had set out with purpose bringing the original battle standard. And the last time they did, all of Midlandia shook before their might.
***
PS: A big 4,400 almost 1,000 more than normal! 🫠
The chapter image features a battering ram. It's a smaller one than usual due to the mountain terrain. Hopefully, it's enough to go against a makeshift bulwark. 😅
Wishing a joyful Easter to everyone who celebrates, and happy holidays to all! 🧺🐰🥚🎀
As always, gratitude for your awesome support! 💖🦆
Comments
micronesia
Or you could say "It's THE Ebenstein" referring to the Knight himself rather than his less-important family members, perhaps?
micronesia
>>The assistant pressed further. “But… It’s the Ebenstein. We don’t have the authority.” Should it be the "Ebensteins"? Plural seems appropriate here. >>They had set out with purpose. And the last time they did, all of Midlandia shook before their might. Why is this the last time? Ominous, but perhaps unintended?
Agent_ Kauz
The days of injustice are over for law now governs these lands. "Fiat justitia ruat caelum"
Wrath
It's time to leave a lasting impression. I can see why Lansius's retainers want him to be a king. It's how he conducts himself. He is worthy of the title of noble.
teeheehee
YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Duke of Coffee
It is time for a clean up of South Midlandia, purge them in fire and brimstone for blood of the condemned will flow in the light of justice. 🔱 Servius, the Black Lord just wants you to hold the line and suck the MP resources away so his forces from Three Hills will sweep in and destroy. 😜
Ryan
Just imagining that knight right now. https://media3.giphy.com/media/55itGuoAJiZEEen9gg/giphy.gif?cid=9b38fe91y6ycmci74v9vrqolg6zomj9px12d347281cffqfd&ep=v1_gifs_search&rid=giphy.gif&ct=g
Quinton Blankenship
YASSSSSS THIS IS WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT !!!!!!!!!!!!! FUCKING TREMBLE BEFORE LANS!!!!!
