Chapter 463 - 537 - 544

Duel

Lorist was annoyed. He had thought he would have long since returned to the dominion. He had no interest in the empire; he was content watching from the sidelines. He didn't even take his upcoming duel seriously. The old man was much weaker than he had thought. He expected his recovery would take two years, not four.

The old man's domain was larger than his and he had more experience, but they were only enough to even the playing field. Their last domain clash had dumped both into thick gruel. Neither had full control of their domains. The simplest explanation was that it felt like his inertia had suddenly multiplied, everything felt less willing to begin or stop moving or change direction.

The challenge had been a great chance. Despite his injuries, he had won. It seemed their domains only affected the physical body, and techniques that left it, techniques that stayed within his body were completely unaffected. It might even be better for him to fight with fists rather than swords.

The fleet returned on the 33rd of the 8th. His thousand Ragebear knights disembarked awkwardly after a fortnight at sea. Their full number was three thousand, but only the one thousand silver-rankers were considered 'knights', the remaining two thousand were iron-rankers, squires. Their size did not reduce their cost, however, the three thousand men in the unit cost Lorist as much as the entire Firmrock.

With them had come the 500 cannons and 800 catapults and the supplies needed to operate them.

Charade had wanted Firmrock to come as well, but Lorist didn't see the point. Ragebear was far more effective and fewer men deployed meant fewer losses suffered, in victory and defeat. Besides, Firmrock shone when fighting from defenses, and the whole point of this battle was to avoid fighting from atop battlements and behind palisades. The forces on hand were enough to hold the line, so Ragebear would be a more worthwhile addition than Firmrock.

Howard, too, disembarked. His project had finished two months earlier. Fort Howard was now Northsea's safe harbor in the south and more than doubled its effective operating range from the homeland. From it, they could now effectively control all but the most southern of coasts, mostly those controlled by the two empires. Most importantly, however, it meant that the fleet was out of commission for far shorter periods while it resupplied.

Howards next duty had been to form three new brigades of artillerymen. That he'd finished a month ago.

His three brigades had come with him and were currently hauling the cannons off the ships. The hundred surviving cannons from the battle with Invincible was now back under their command, so each brigade had 200 cannons. They'd spend a few days near the city, breaking in the new guns, and then leave for Bluwek.

Ragebear took leave for the days the artillery brigades checked the cannons and left together with Lorist and Tigersoar.

Military camps dotted the landscape around the city. Banners of every color pigments could make flapped in the wind. The Trade Union occupied the southern, eastern, and western fringes of the area, whilst the city itself and everything north of it flew Norton and Free Union banners.

The Trade Union's generals had been arguing for three days. Duke Cobleit walked around with a perpetual headache. The enemy sent a messenger with a letter from Duke Norton the moment they arrived. He duke said he would not be standing aside, nor reserving any force necessary for victory. He challenged them to a battle in front of the city on the 10th of the 10th, the same day he chose for his duel with their swordsaint.

The heated debate revolved around this letter. Should they accept this? The enemy had not fortified the city at all. They had no retreat plan, no intent on falling back and holding the city if they lost the fight. This could only mean that they were certain of their victory.

Half of the commanders were in favor of storming the city before the enemy had time to organize their forces. They outnumbered the enemy 3 to 1, add to that the element of surprise and they had little chance of failure. Why sit around and wait for a month? Why give your enemy the time he so clearly needed to prepare for a confrontation? Was war not also a game of time and organization? He had clearly lost on both fronts so it was only right to clean him out now.

Cobleit would have been of the same mind, were the sender of the letter in question anyone else, anyone but the infamously brilliant Duke Norton, anyone other than one of only a handful of swordsaints on the entire continent.

The duke had also followed an important ancient custom. He'd declared a date and a place for a battle between their armies. Much like the duel between swordsaints, it morally bound them to honor his call. They could ignore it if they wanted, but they would lose what little standing they had in the continent's noble circles, and their standing was shaky enough as it was already.

A break of this custom would also give the duke an excuse to target their upper echelons. Were he someone else, this would not be worth considering, but he was a swordsaint, he had the power, he just lacked the excuse.

The nobles were not pleased to hear this. This was news to them. Until recently they'd been mere commoners, rich merchants, sure, but still commoners. They'd known nothing of the intricacies of noble custom and etiquette, of the unspoken rules that governed noble life, and most of them had never made the effort to learn once they became peers.

But they had their own swordsaint, didn't they? If he was dumb enough to barge into their camp with a few hundred, maybe one or two thousand of his personal bodyguard, they could just send the windstorm swordsaint after him and crush his bodyguard with their own forces.

Naturally that fool of a duke had only bothered with noble custom because they had the perfect counter his personal involvement in the war. He was known for his unannounced attacks, among his many other barbaric tactics, he would have used one of them instead if not for the fact that they had someone that could match him.

They now thanked their lucky stars for paying the price to get the windstorm swordsaint on their side. Many had thought it a waste, and even those that had supported the idea, thought of it as just obtaining another laurel for their wreaths, something to solidify their position and give them greater legitimacy, no one had thought he would be such a crucial force.

"Where's the windstorm swordsaint?"

In the nearby city. He's stopped there to meditate and prepare for the duel. He said he'd join us shortly before the date for his due," Duke Chikdor answered.

"Why? Doesn't Duke Norton need to prepare for the duel as well? Why can he lead a legion and come to the front-line already, then? If we don't take Bluwek now, we'll sweat blood to take it later," clamored a deputy-general. He used to be a mercenary, and he didn't understand the frivolous rules nobles had to followed. It was all just pretentious horseshite to him.

"Stop talking nonsense," Duke Peterson interjected, "Duke Norton sent us an official challenge. Such is only issued to nobles. He's acknowledged us as peers, we have to respond according to noble etiquette. We'll be discrediting his acknowledgement and slapping ourselves in the face otherwise. He could then just storm in and kill us as bandits."

"But... Don't we have the windstorm swordsaint? Isn't he afraid Master Magrut would do the same to his forces?"

"Fool, we'd be the ones who would have broken the rules first. Why would Master Magrut stand up for us? Even if he did, it would be meaningless since we would be dead."

Duke Cobleit finally hammered the table. Why was it that the Trade Union's expansionist policy only worked well with the Alliance, why did it fail in the north? Andinaq, besides House Norton, was a shell of a country, teetering on the edge of complete collapse. House Norton, and, specifically, its duke, was the only thing keeping them from falling off the cliff. The Trade Union should thank its lucky stars he was a vassal of a stupid king, and not king himself, otherwise they'd long since have been made corpses.

Fuck! We should have gone to the negotiating table... thought Duke Cobleit.

Unfortunately that was no longer an option. The door to the table closed the moment the Free Union declared independence. They had to win the war or be replaced by that puppet state. If they did not shatter from defeat and become just a collection of duchies and backwater villages, they'd forever exist in the new Union's shadow.

The tent fell into silence. It lasted several minutes. Duke Cobleit's sigh finally broke it.

"Duke Norton sent that letter as a warning. Look at the date he set for our fight. It's the same as the duel. He's warning us to follow the rules, or he'll come sort us out personally. I expect he'll respect his loss as well and withdraw without complaint, granted to do as he wishes and follow the rules."

"How are we supposed to stay here for a month? We're bleeding money!" someone cried.

"Gentlemen, let me remind you. We are nobles. You wanted the titles, and now you have it. It's time you started acting the part! Yes, we have to make sacrifices, but his recognition of our status means we can expect the perks that go along with being nobles. Proper treatment if caught, for one. We could ignore the rules when we fought the Alliance because we were certain of victory. Things are different this time. There is a serious chance we might lose. If we do after breaking the rules, we'll be hanged. If we do but we followed the rules, you get to keep your heads and go home."

"If only Master Magrut was here..."

Duke Cobleit laughed bitterly.

"He is a swordsaint, our swordsaint, but he is far from reliable. You should not bet on his aid."

"What?! We pay him a million gold Fordes a year! Does he want even more?"

"I won't hide it. Master Magrut originally refused to duel Duke Norton. He only agreed after we made several concessions. Besides many benefits and rewards -- among which is a province as a fief -- he will not fight the duke to the death. He will only keep him busy and out of the main fight."

"How dare he be so greedy! We've wasted our money!" yelled someone angrily.

It was one thing to be an exalted swordsaint, but to be both a swordsaint and a noble? One title was equal to the other, so a commoner swordsaint they could stomach, but a noble swordsaint would be their superior. This was unacceptable.

"We have no choice. We will not win this without him," Peterson interjected, "The big seven had already made the decision. As long as Duke Norton is out of the picture, we can win this fight. It doesn't matter if he's killed or just occupied, we just need him out of the fight. We outnumber the enemy three-to-one. A field battle, even if the enemy has time to prepare, is still better for us than a siege where we'd either have to starve them out through the winter, where we'll be sat in cold tents and they in warm houses behind high walls, or storm the walls and suffer heavy casualties."

Day of the Grand Battle

"Let not your prowess shine like a candle in the street, for it will burn out quickly. Keep it silent, hidden, and use it sparingly, only when most needed."

On the 10th of the 10th, when the sky had just brightened, a horn blared lowly across Falik Plains. One tower of smoke rose after another amidst the camp's forest of tents.

A fog rose from the rivers as dawn broke. The men screamed, cursed, and yelled. Metal clashed, horses neighed, and sounds of all kinds mixed together in a chaotic ensemble.

The day had come. Duke Cobleit woke early, or, more accurately, had yet to sleep. The day's battle would decide both Unions' fate. He couldn't afford neglect. Stress weighed on him eternally. He had the advantage in numbers, so he could not understand why the enemy would choose to confront them on the field, in the open, where the terrain offered no advantage to either side. But he knew Duke Norton was no idiot, he would not do this without reason.

All the intelligence said House Norton only had three legions and a brigade of knights to field. They should number just 150 thousand at best. Cobleit didn't count the Free Union troops of Whitelion legion, which King Andinaq had sent as reinforcements, they were not worth much and could not change the outcome of the battle.

House Norton was his true enemy. However, they had remained in their camp for the whole month. While the higher-ups wouldn't claim they knew the Nortons inside out, they knew their specialties. House Norton had the advantage when it came to ranged weaponry. They used steel ballistae and catapults to break up their opponents' formations before charging in with cavalry. This was how Tigersoar had defeated their 100 thousand reinforcements in Kanbona with only 40 thousand.

The mere thought of House Norton's ballistae and catapults infuriated Cobleit. The big-six restored Wessia so they could produce House Norton's weapons from the blueprints they'd stolen. It wasn't that Twinhead Dragon didn't want to just abandon them. It couldn't, because the other five merchant guilds didn't want to. Their compromise was to reform Wessia, this time, however, each of the guilds owned a tenth of Wessia just like they did Invincible.

Despite that, the new guild still disappointed. They had the real ballistae and catapults, but they couldn't forge the same elastic steel. They spent over 500 thousand gold Fordes but the research still failed. They only produced barely functional arms that couldn't compare.

Luckily they could counter the enemy's ballistae with shield carts. Only the catapults were trouble. House Norton were experts at combining the two weapons in combat. The Trade Union's forces had brainstormed many countermeasures, but only two were reliable. They were the elastic shield-carts, and long-armed trebuchets.

The elastic shield-carts were the result of a spark of inspiration from the carpenters that built the normal shield-carts. Normal giant shield-carts were mainly used to defend against ballista bolts, so they had to be firm. But that made them useless against rocks. In fact, the harder they were, the easier they broke. One of the carpenters had the bright idea of using bamboo, an elastic material, to support the shields. Not only did it increase its strength, but also made it possible to stop medium rocks. Heavy rocks were still a problem though.

With most of the ranged weapons nullified, they could rely on high tiers to eliminate enemy commanding officers and destroy their command infrastructure. They'd crumble soon after. The only problem was that they still had to cover a great distance under fire and casualties were unavoidable.

So far, the best way to stop the enemy's catapults was their long-armed trebuchets. They could launch stones up to 30 kilograms 400 meters. They fired slower and couldn't be moved, but they could match the enemy's range and keep them at occupied. He did not hope they could defeat the enemy catapults, he just wanted them to divert attention away from his forces as they closed in.

The old times were far better... We'd just meet on the field and charge at one another. We might shoot a few volleys of arrows before we engaged in close quarters, but things were nice and simple. House Norton has ruined everything. We can't get even get close to them normally. We'd just get wiped out as we approached. Even fighting from city walls is little better. They just smash the walls down over a couple of days and storm in...

"Please enjoy your meal, Your Grace," said his attendant as he served breakfast.

Cobleit didn't have much of an appetite. He took a few bites and fiddle around with the rest for a few minutes before giving up.

"Sollerson, anything happening on the other side?"

Sollerson was his trusted attendant. The man had been by his side for 20 years. He trusted the man implicitly.

"No, Your Grace. Apart from the mound they built two days ago, nothing has happened. The scouts said they have started to cook."

The enemy built a small mound five kilometers from Bluwek, but nothing had happened since. The higher-ups thought they were setting up defensive fortifications, but it didn't really seem like it. Cobleit couldn't understand what Duke Norton was thinking. Maybe he wanted to use it to give him a better view of the battle? It certainly couldn't be used for anything else. Some had suggested that he might want to use it to increase his catapults' range, but it wasn't tall enough to make much of a difference.

"You can have the rest," Cobleit said generously, "What time is it?"

"Just before seven, Your Grace."

"Make me a cup of tea and give the signal to sortie. It is time for our grand battle. We must make preparations early. Make sure the troops are in formation in two hours."

"As you wish, Your Grace."

"Has Master Magrut woken up yet? What's the situation?"

The windstorm swordsaint arrived in with ten disciples three days earlier. After meeting him and the rest, he excused himself and wanted to set up his tent somewhere clean to rest. But where would they find a clean place in a military camp? Cobleit had no choice but to have ten tents taken down and moved to make space for the swordsaint. He even stationed guards around his tent to stop anyone from disrupting his rest.

"Master Magrut's disciples are outside. They were just asking for breakfast. We didn't see Master Magrut. We don't know if he's awake."

Cobleit nodded.

"Since his disciples are here, Master Magrut will join them soon. Make sure the men are respectful and do whatever he asks. Master Magrut is the key to our victory today. We can't mess things up. I won't forgive anyone who upsets him."

"Understood. I will make sure everyone is careful."

Cobleit waited anxiously for their swordsaint to arrive. His eldest disciple came by near nine. Count Bolyde was the windstorm swordsaint's eldest disciple, an arrogant bastard. He cared little for merchant wannabe nobles. He conveniently forgot that his own title was defunct along with Kalia, the kingdom that had given it to him.

"Lord Duke, I am here to get a pass," said Count Bolyde.

"What's going on?" asked Cobleit.

"My master will now leave for the duel grounds. I am here to get a pass to prove my and my fellow disciples' identities so we may attend."

"Huh? Wasn't Master Magrut going to duel Duke Norton on the battlefield? He's choosing another location?" asked Duke Chikdor.

Bolyde shot the duke a disdainful glare.

"You think Master is like your subordinates who want to duel in the middle of the battle to show off? Please understand, a duel between two swordsaints is sacred. Only those dedicated to the arts and chosen by the swordsaints themselves may be witness! Do you really think it's just two people swinging swords at each other? If you don't know what's going on, don't mouth off unnecessarily! Master issued the challenge and set the date, so the venue is naturally up to Duke Norton. We came here to get a pass to head to the other side so we can go to the grounds together."

"But... But today's the date of our battle..."

Duke Chikdor's embarrassment turned to rage.

"If the date is so fixed, then fight it. House Norton has three centuries behind it. They will not break their promises even if their lord is absent. You go do your battle and Master will duel Duke Norton. Neither has anything to do with the other."

These merchants want to come watch the duel just to make sure Master does not slack off!

"Haha, Lord Bolyde, we naturally know this is the day of our battle. We haven't deployed yet was because we were worried we would steal the show. The duel is an eye-catching event. Our battle is nothing but a side show. Duke Chikdor is waiting with us because he is worried our battle will affect the duel. Since it won't, there's no issue. Sollerson, give the count my insignia and accompany him," said Cobleit as he came to Duke Chikdor's rescue.

"Thank you, Lord Duke," Bolyde replied, turning stiffly and leaving, Sollerson jogging to keep up.

"Alright, gentlemen, it seems we don't have to worry about the duel. Go and get our troops ready. You all know what our plans are, so let us not waste time and breathe reiterating them. Hold ranks, stick to the plan, obey any orders I might give, and fight bravely! By Singwa, this victory will be ours!"

"By Singwa! Victory! Victory!" responded the tent.

Horns reverberated across the plains as the Trade Union's forces set off. House Norton responded in kind. The rumbling of drums jumped in and set the pace as the two forces marched towards one another, each's cloud of dust obscuring the horizon for the other.

Bolyde, who had just rode out of camp, was shocked to hear the horn and cursed, but nobody heard him. The two armies were only kilometers apart and Bolyde and Sollerson were held up by a few light cavalry scouts when they were a kilometer away from the Norton camp. After checking their identification, the scouts took their weapons and escorted them to their lord.

Bolyde dismounted respectfully and gave his greetings before giving a noble salute and explaining his presence.

Lorist gazed at the map and picked a few remote locations. This was a duel between swordsaints after all, not just anybody could watch. The windstorm swordsaint was right about that. In the end, Lorist settled on Lone Peak.

Lone Peak was the mountain nearest Bluwek, around 5 kilometers away. Its name came from its isolation. It towered above the gently rolling hills of the region, reaching for the sky, alone.

Bolyde returned with the location. Fanfare echoed across the gap between the armies as the Union sent their swordsaint off. Lorist left his side quietly, followed only by Reidy and Jinolio.

Cobleit breathed a sigh of relief when his scouts reported Lorist's departure. Looking at the murderous Norton soldiers in the distance, he waved and ordered in a deep voice, "Blow the horn! We move as planned! Begin our attack!"

Duel of the Swordsaints

"Lord Norton, please head up. Teacher arrived early," said Bolyde with utmost respect as he saluted Lorist.

The other disciples spread out and surrounded the mountain. They appeared to be guarding the surroundings so nobody would interrupt the duel.

Lorist nodded. He turned to Reidy and Jinolio.

"Stay here, or go back if you want."

Reidy glanced at Bolyde.

"We'll wait here, Teacher. We pray for your victory."

Lorist waved them off and dismounted before climbing the mountains.

This mountain had no path to the peak. The lower half had some greenery, mainly shrubs and grass, but the upper half was bare. It stood far from the coast and there were little in the way of prevailing winds, so no moisture was blown up it to wet the top. Only the hardiest of plants broke rock here and there.

The peak was a single, solid mass of gray rock. Lorist kicked up from a hole in the mountain and impaled a ledge with his sword before flipping off and ascending further. He peaked several flips later. The top was leveled, about a hundred meters square. A few hairline cracks danced like lightning in the shifting light, but the surface was stable. A few boulders lay on this surface, but not enough to severely hinder movement.

Lorist wondered where his opponent was. Had he not come early? Wind suddenly rose from behind him, lifting his cape and making it flap about aimlessly. He turned around and saw the battlefield stretched out from the bottom of the mountain to Bluwek. The two sides, like two blobs, covered two sides of the flatlands below. He felt like he should hear horns blaring and officers barking orders, but the sounds were long washed out by the time the wind reached him.

As he perked his ears to see if he could hear any lingering noise of the war beneath, he heard a gentle flutter behind him. He turned his gaze and saw the old swordsaint lumbering his way up the last couple of meters of slope. His face was slightly flush and his breathing heavier than would be expected of a swordsaint.

"When you are as old as me, your bones don't hold up as well as they used to. Apologies for showing you such a sight, Your Grace," the old man said shamelessly, bowing slightly, "Greetings Duke Norton. I am grateful for your acceptance. Looks like this old man won't have to lose face."

How odd. What was the old man up to? Why was he being so polite? Was he not an arrogant fool?

"Umm..." Lorist opened his mouth to speak, but the old man's name escaped him. That Count Kris-whatsisname introduced him as Master Ma-something-ut...

He couldn't be bothered to trawl the name up from his memory.

"Can we get going?" he snapped, unsheathing his sword.

The sooner he could finish, the sooner he could return to the battlefield. He was anxious. His plans were thorough, but he could not afford to be absent if something untoward happened.

The old man just shrugged and sat down.

"No rush. Let's rest for a bit. I'm old. I'm not nearly as energetic as you. You can at least give this old man some time to catch his breath, can't you?"

Lorist stared at the old man, speechless.

What the hell? Is this his house?! He even dares sit down! He's not worried I'll strike him like this at all?!

Then again, they were fifteen meters apart. Even if he dashed at full speed, the old man would still have enough time to react.

Whatever, just rest if you need it so badly. There's no point in rushing. Shoved his sword into the stone and returned his attention to the battlefield.

From this vantage point, Falik Plains looked like a large chessboard, but the Union occupied two-thirds of it. Little squared of men checkered the landscape all the way to the horizon. The squares closest to his forces had been whittled down and were just small, scattered dots. He could just barely make out clumps where large numbers of men had died together, and a few pebble like dots sat scattered between them, probably shield carts of one kind or another.

"You seem rather confident in your forces. Is that why you're fighting the battle on the same day as our duel? Where do you get that confidence? The Union is advancing very well. Your men are well-trained, but they're completely outnumbered."

"Had enough rest? Then let's fight."

"Anxious to get to join the battle?"

Lorist didn't answer, but his face betrayed him.

The old swordsaint chortled.

"Frien-- Lord Norton. It's true I challenged you to a duel, but the truth is I don't want to fight you."

"Then why'd you challenge me?"

The old man tapped the rock beside him.

"Do you know why I thanked you for accepting?"

Lorist shook his head.

Since you asked for a beating, I'll give you want. I was having trouble finding you but now you've come to me. I should be the thankful one. With you out of the picture the Union will crumble. Why would I not grab such a chance?"

"You haven't been a swordsaint for long, so you probably don't know much about our way of doing things. But you'll learn in good time."

"What does that have to duel with our duel? Weren't we both heavily injured in our last fight? You challenged me after you recovered because you want to get payback, right? I didn't get enough in our last fight, so I want to fight you again."

The old man burst into a short bout of laughter.

"I didn't issue the challenge with the intention to fight. I know taking you on will be torturous and I'll probably be just as badly injured as before. My old bones can't take it anymore. Everyone knows about our last fight. If I didn't challenge you they'd think I was afraid of you and I'd lose most of the respect and reputation I've earned. I had to challenge you to preserve my honor."

"I'm a swordsaint, one of just a handful on the continent. We have transcended the ruling classes. Nobody dares offend us. Even in wars we don't have to fight. We prefer it that way since we'd rather not fight and kill one another. There are few enough of us already, no need to lower that number ourselves. We don't care which of us is considered the strongest. I doubt anyone would have a problem with you being put at the top of our rankings. You're welcome to it. You're a noble as well as a swordsaint, the rest of us are commoners. We may have high statuses, but they're symbolic only. We have no real power.

"We're seen as these sages, divorced of the mundane world, our only pursuit perfection of our cultivation. We are respected and stand equal even to kings and emperors in the eyes of the people, but we have no authority. We only fight to preserve our reputation so we can hold on to what little freedom and influence we have. That's why I challenged you.

"Challenges are usually accepted as easily as this one. Most of the time a lot of conditions are negotiated first. We don't face each other often as a result. Most fights are spars between friendly swordsaints. I am grateful that you accepted my challenge without a fuss. I will repay this favor."

Lorist finally understood what was going on. The swordsaint wanted to put up a facade of a duel for the rest of the world to preserve his honor, but in reality he just wanted to chat. Even if he returned without a scratch, he could claim to have fought Lorist to a draw. It was far better than having to escape injury-ridden. And, given his status, there would be no need to try so hard on behalf of the Union, anyway.

Lorist was different. Like the old man had said, Lorist was a noble as well as a swordsaint. He had a domain and millions of people depending on him. He could not sit by like a detached bystander and just watch the fight play out either way. He had to make sure his forces won.

He prepared to leave.

"Let's not be hasty now," the old man hastened to stop him.

Lorist frowned and clutched his sword.

"You want to stop me?"

"You're a swordsaint. Why bother with such petty things? We must not be too involved in the world of mortals. Even if you're a duke, you can't lead every charge, can you? You must be confident in your forces being able to win in your absence, otherwise you wouldn't have set the battle on the same day as our duel. Why not watch it from here? We might be powerful, but swordsaints can't single-handedly change the outcomes of battles such as these."

"Did you make a deal with the Union concerning me?"

The old man nodded shamelessly.

"I cannot let you take part in the battle, so I cannot let you descend the mountain until the battle is over. Besides, a duel between swordsaints cannot end this quickly. No one will believe we've fought."

"Oh really?" Lorist's glare froze. "Do you really think you can keep me here?"

"I admit I'm not your match. But stopping you from leaving is not the same as winning the fight. I have several strategies to lock you down on this peak even if I can't win. I'd prefer not to have to fight you, however. There's no point in us being enemies."

"So what did they promise you?"

"The duchy of Walinya. Well, they didn't offer it to me, I demanded it. It's one of the smaller duchies south of the Union, near Jigda. It used to be a protectorate of Kalia. It's about the same size as one of your empire's provinces."

"Are you sure the Union will really give it to you?"

"They won't dare lie to a swordsaint. As long as I keep you here until the battle ends and I'm not badly injured, they'll give it to me. They'd like nothing more than for the two of us to fight one another until we're just barely still alive."

"Hey, old man," Lorist interjected, "even if you get Walinya, aren't you afraid the swordsaints from the Romon and Khawistan will come after you? I heard they chased you out of Kalia by working together."

Lorist suddenly felt a desire to gossip. He had nothing better to do up here, so why not?

"Hehe. Kalia wasn't ruined because I was chased out of the kingdom. It was ruined because I and the king had irreconcilable differences. I would have liked to kill the old bastard, but I couldn't if I wanted to preserve my reputation, so for years I'd just sequestered myself away and ignored the king. The two empires didn't dare make a move as long as I was in the kingdom, though. One day I received a letter from the two empire's swordsaints saying they'd been asked to work together to chase me out of the kingdom or kill me so the two empires could split it up. It was the perfect excuse to get out, so I played along and pretended to be chased out of the kingdom by the two after a serious fight."

"Being a swordsaint comes with a lot of annoying shackles. I realized when I first came across you and learned you were both a swordsaint and a noble that I can only really be free if I am both a noble and a swordsaint. So I demanded land and a title in exchange for keeping you out of the fight."

A loud, sky-shattering rumble burst up the mountain from the lands below. A line of smoke rose up from Lorist's forces, and towers of smoke rose from semi-random positions on the Union's side. Their formations instantly crumbled. Soon after a soft blur of cries and wails clawed its way through the air to the peak.

Lorist finally breathed again and sat down.

"Don't you still want to go back to the battlefield?"

"The battle's over. The Union lost. I don't need to go back in a hurry anymore."

"How?!"

The old man jumped up and stared at the battlefield. Smoke covered most of it, but he could just make out the Union's side retreating like ants on a table after someone hit it. The enemy side's formation was also breaking up like a flood as it rushed over the battlefield, chasing the retreating Union.

"Gah!" cried the old man suddenly. He drew his sword and slashed the rock closest to him.

"The heck are you up to?" asked Lorist.

"Quick, help me. Leave a few sword marks on the rocks over there. This is the sacred ground of a swordsaint duel. We must leave some signs of the intense battle. You take that side, I'll take this one, we can swap once we're done."

Grand Victory

"Trust nothing you read in the history books, and even less if they're old ones."

Lorist descended from the mountain, his face covered in soot. His clothes were stained with mud and somewhat torn. Even his short cloak was torn in half. Each flapped like a flag behind him.

"Your Grace!"

"Teacher!"

Lorist smiled when he saw his two disciples. Their cries made him feel guilty. But, thinking back to what the windstorm swordsaint had said, there really was no reason for two people without any real grudges to fight each other to the death.

The old man had said it crudely, but it made sense. Lorist's forces had won, so he had no reason to rush back. The windstorm swordsaint also didn't have to tire himself out by holding him on the mountain. Everyone could part on good terms. Lorist would have free reign in the north and the two would have nothing to do with one another in the future. They might even become friends in time.

The only thing Lorist didn't like was having to 'decorate' their dueling grounds. It was even more tiring than actually fighting. The practiced manner in which the old man went about his decorating also called into question the stories about all the previous confrontations between swordsaints. How many had been honest fights, and how many were just decorations? No one had ever imagined that swordsaints, so venerated by the world, would just sit side by side on mountaintops talking about trifles as hundreds of thousands fought to the death beneath.

He nearly broke out in a rage when the old man said they also had to look the part.

"You can see how epic our fight must've been. Look at that boulder. It's cut in half! How can we walk out untouched by dust or dirt? Wouldn't that rouse their suspicions?"

He didn't wait for Lorist to respond. He immediately cut his clothes into thin strips and covered himself in dust. Lorist was quite impressed with the old man's fashion sense. It was centuries ahead of its time. He had little choice once he started, so he joined in. Soon both were nearly half naked under strips of cloth completely unassociable with the clothes they had worn when they ascended the mountain.

Reidy and Jinolio rushed over excitedly. They breathed a sigh of relief once certain their master had not been seriously injured.

"Did Teacher win?"

Bolyde was pale and trembling. He clearly though his master had lost. The fight had lasted some time and the fact that his master had not returned when his opponent had said everything.

Lorist shook his head.

"We drawed. We fought for a while but stopped when we realized neither could of us could win without taking serious risks. I just came down first."

Bolyde's face immediately regained some semblance of color.

"Where is Master? Is he injured? Forgive my rudeness. I am just worried for Master."

Lorist smiled.

"Your teacher is fine. He said he gained some insight from our fight and wants to meditate on it for a while. He'll come down once he's ready."

That old guy had stubbornly insisted on Lorist saying this to his disciples. His disciples would go up to see what had happened and would come across their carefully prepared stage. He'd recount the grand battle and word would spread to the world from there.

"Thank you, Duke Norton," said Bolyde before he called two other disciples and rushed up the mountain.

"Let's go back."

Lorist mounted his horse. Jinolio handed his cloak to him.

"Teacher, was the windstorm swordsaint strong?" asked Reidy as they rode.

"No," Lorist said with a bitter smile, "He's not very strong, but he's as slippery as an eel. He couldn't hurt me because I am too strong, but I couldn't hurt him because I couldn't corner him to land a strike."

Such was the truth. The two had clashed with their domains to determine the most believable lie to tell. Though the old man was sly and lazy, his cultivation was the real deal. His Windstorm Domain spread out for 25 meters. Within it, stones flew and wind morphed into blades. Lorist's Slaughter Domain, on the other hand, was like a physical manifestation of murderous intent. Everything inside was crimson and even the bravest turned into cowards. Its range, however, was a paltry 15 meters. It was a great improvement on what it had been when last the two had fought, however. The old man had been very impressed when he saw it.

Lorist had gained something from their agreement. Magrut had shared a lot of what he knew about the world of swordsaints with his younger protégé, such as what exactly domains were and how they worked. Lorist learned that swordsaints were divided into three classes, or stages, based on the size of their domain. First stage swordsaints had domains less than thirty meters but greater than 10 meters in radius. Anything less than that was a demi-swordsaint, not to be confused with a quasi-swordsaint, however. Quasi-swordsaints couldn't manifest a domain at all, but were far more powerful than blademasters, whilst demi-swordsaints could manifest domains, though unstable, of short duration, and less than 10 meters in radius.

First stage swordsaints moved into the second stage when their domains crossed the 30 meter mark, and the third stage when they crossed the 50 meter mark. Of all the swordsaint still living, only one, the firesoar swordsaint, was in the third stage. Everyone else was still in the first stage. Romon and Khawistan's swordsaints were comparable to Magrut. The firesoar swordsaint was the last surviving swordsaint from the previous generation, which was why he had such a large domain. The years of chaos of the last century and a half had prevented many new swordsaints from rising. Most of the current swordsaints were of roughly the same age. Lorist was in the trailing end of the current generation, quite possibly its last as well. The firesoar swordsaint was an incredible 260 years old, and few thought he could hold out much longer, if he were even still alive. It had been years since he was last seen.

Domains were also based on the fundamental attributes of their users' battleforce. Magrut's was of the rare wind attribute. The firesoar swordsaint's was fire. His domain felt like an oven. When he exerted its full strength, he could even make bushes and grass burst into fire. Romon's swordsaint had a wood-attribute domain. Plants grew wildly within it. Khawistan's swordsaint had an earth attribute. It was great for defense and for limiting the enemy's movement by constantly changing the landscape within.

Lorist's was apparently the weirdest of all. Magrut had sparred with most of the known swordsaints, but he'd never encountered something like this. He'd especially never felt the kind of sludging effect he did when his domain clashed with Lorist's. Usually their domains would overlap and their effect would manifest side by side, it was unheard of for the two domains to suppress each other and to instead slow down the swordsaints inside like they were fighting in a thick sludge.

As Lorist approached Bluwek, he encountered more and more scattered Union soldiers. Apart from some blind fools who tried to rob them of their war horses, Lorist didn't go out of his way to chase the small fry soldiers down. He had to accept some of the points the windstorm swordsaint made. As a swordsaint, he should carry the kind of grace a swordsaint should have. Troubling a small soldier was beneath his status of a swordsaint. Come to think of it, the old guy was like 'mortal' this and 'mortal' that. He doesn't even acknowledge their existence as individuals at all. Maybe he even considers himself as some sort of god.

Now, Lorist finally understood why the windstorm swordsaint seemed so arrogant when he tried to abduct Auguslo and the other nobles years ago. The old guy had been put on the high pedestal for far too long and started growing prideful. Had it not been for Lorist's own status as a swordsaint, the old man wouldn't even have bothered with him. To the windstorm swordsaint, anyone who wasn't a swordsaint was not so different from little ants on the ground. Only by becoming a swordsaint would one be acknowledged as an equal by the old man. It was no wonder he was so casual and loose-lipped about how sleazy he was and how he tricked the Trade Union for his own benefits.

Whatever, there's no sense in fussing with that old guy. I'll just do what he wants this time. He should be going to claim Walinya as his dominion from the Trade Union later and probably wouldn't have anything to do with me in the future. Lorist only felt pity for the Trade Union. Not only did they suffer a crippling loss on the battlefield, it was also quite obvious that the windstorm swordsaint would no longer move according to the merchants' beck and call after he got Walinya. Whether he would still be in their employ was still unknown. That old man seemed like he was going to isolate himself after he got his dominion and nobody would be willing to invade the dominion of a swordsaint. It was no different from forming an irreconcilable grudge.

A group of sentries were bringing some Free Union soldiers along to chase down the retreating Trade Union troops. Upon seeing Lorist and the other two, they raised their weapons up high and called out their victory cry. The cheer soon spread all over the battlefield. A few Norton knights rushed over and Lorist waved them away to resume their assignment instead of escorting him. He would arrive at Bluwek soon, anyway.

Charade received a report that the premier of the Free Union, Jindoz, was waiting to welcome Lorist back at the citadel gates. The others had followed the rest to take as many captives as they could. Since the Free Union had settled on developing the rural Callisto Hills, they would be investing around one to two million gold Fordes annually into the projects and the most crucial thing that they currently lacked was cheap labor. This was a great chance to fill up that gap.

Since Lorist was able to return unscathed from a swordsaint duel, he hadn't suffer any losses or conveniences. Charade didn't really care about it after being told that it was a draw and started telling Lorist about the success they'd had with the battle. He had observed the battle from the beginning to its very end. Had it not been for the fact that others were worried about his lackluster swordsmanship and asked him to stay behind, Charade might have raised his sword and charged into the pursuit in the heat of excitement.

According to Charade, the Trade Union blew the horn for the battle to begin less than 15 minutes after Lorist left with Jinolio and Reidy. Everyone knew why they were so desperate to start. The Trade Union showed their might in the form of multiple formations spread across the plains and they applied huge pressure against the Norton forces, Whitelion legion and the defense divisions of the Free Union, which even saw some tens of soldiers desert.

The unit that launched the attack first was the Trade Union's so-called vengeance legion that was formed mostly from inner city citizens, surrendered garrison members and Invincible Fleet members as well as some sailors. They hated how their wealth was scoured clean by House Norton when they were kept in the captive camps and hated the Nortons to the bone. They were willing to become cannon fodder than retreat.

They were the ones who pushed the gigantic wooden shield carts that counteracted the ballista attacks. Some of those carts even managed to weather strikes from catapult projectiles outside the range of 200 meters. Most rocks weighing below 30 kilograms didn't have any effect on those carts. Only when projectiles weighing above 50 or so kilograms would crush the shield carts and cause some damage. That was how vengeance legion managed to approach the Norton formations and put up a short-lived assault. But they were eventually beaten after a few exchanges.

Perhaps because the success of the vengeance legion, the higher-ups of the Trade Union were encouraged, and they instantly threw half of their forces into the fray. Near 100 thousand people marched in multiple square formations and launched their heavy assault. They weathered the ranged weaponry of the Nortons using those gigantic wooden shield carts of theirs and made their approach. Behind the square formations were nearly 100 long-armed trebuchets that were also gradually being moved to the front of the battlefield.

The Norton commanding officers didn't give much heed to those trebuchets and thought that their firing range only measured to be around 300 meters like their own catapults. They didn't think that those trebuchets would be set down when they were still over 400 meters away before they were used to launch rocks weighing around 30 kilograms to the Norton ranks. That caused the unprepared Norton units a few hundred casualties and nearly crumbled the units.

Ovidis, who was commanding the catapult units, could only order his catapults to return fire. The worst part of that was that the enemy trebuchets were defended by those shield carts and most lighter projectiles didn't have any effect unless they struck the trebuchets directly.

So, Howard instructed Ovidis to pack some gunpowder along with those projectiles and ordered the 600 plus cannons and their operators to get ready to fire. At that time, the Trade Union formations were less than a hundred meters away from the Norton forces and would soon go in on an all-out attack to break through the Norton formation.

When the Union forces' 100 plus thousand soldiers finally began their final charge towards the Norton lines, what awaited them were countless thundering booms, whooshing cannonballs and endless tragedy. The Norton forces had completely swept the enemy forces clean, instantly creating rivers of blood and mountains of corpses. Soldiers from the Union and Norton ranks both vomited from the grotesque and cruelly stimulating sight.

It was then when the gunpowder-packed projectiles flung by the catapults detonated at the enemy's rear lines. Smoke and fire spread all over the enemy ranks. The trebuchets and shield carts crumbled indiscriminately in the face of exploding gunpowder. Never would the Trade Union ever imagine that the Nortons had that trick up their sleeves. The remaining square formations of the Trade Union near the front of the battlefield crumbled almost right away and some other soldiers at the back were greatly unsettled.

Fiercetiger Loze and Freiyar grabbed the opening to blow the horn for Tigersoar and Jaeger to flank the enemy at that instant. Howard and Ovidis on the other hand led the cannon and catapult brigades forward to deal more suppression fire and to continue flinging more gunpowder bags to the rear camp of the Trade Union. Terman on the other hand mounted a frontal charge against the enemies. Els also led the sentry legion, Whitelion legion and the Free Union's defense divisions to suppress the enemy.

The result was simple. The Trade Union forces had been completely decimated. The repeated blows from the Norton forces completely crushed the merchant guilds' legions. Their soldiers escaped in all directions chaotically. The Norton troops thus dove into a delightful frenzy of pursuit and capture.

After the Battle

"Never trust the history books. They are written by the victor, and no man will make himself the devil and his enemy an angel in a story he gets to tell."

On the 10th of the 10th, Year 1780, the new swordsaint and Duke of The Northlands, Norton Lorist, headed for Lone Peak to face Windstorm Swordsaint Magrut in single combat. There were no spectators, but the clefts in the rock and the rubble left behind bared witness to their engagement.

The duke's forces drove the Trade Union off the field during the fight as well. The duke didn't even take a look at the battlefield after the fight. He just headed to Bluwek to rest. Magrut, while having not lost badly, was very exhausted and chose to remain on the peak for some time. He later revealed to his disciples that he'd gained a great insight during their battle and had wanted to meditate on it in the midst of their arena. The fight won him back the face he had lost during their last confrontation, and he praised the duke's swordsmanship for years thereafter.

--extract from the Chronicles of Grindia

The battle was a complete route. House Norton was the undisputed victor. It was a historic battle for more than one reason. Not only was it the final nail in the Forde Trade Union's coffin, but it was also the first land battle where firearms played a decisive role. The Union outnumbered House Norton just under 2 to 1, but they were complete routed once their enemy opened fire with their cannons.

It was not that their tactics were completely incorrect, at least not based on what they knew about the enemy. They were quite effective against House Norton's conventional troops. They had never thought of the enemy suddenly using cannons, however.

Many of the battle's survivors described the moment like suddenly finding oneself in the middle of a thunder storm, like waking up in the midst of a cyclone, like coming across the end of times. The more religiously inclined said they were weapons that unleashed the devil himself, a blasphemy, a heresy against the gods. You would notice a slight smudge in the sky tearing towards you, then suddenly be blinded by a bright sun flaring into existence right in front of you. If it was far enough away, which was far indeed, you'd survive past the flash to hear a thunderous roar like a dragon complaining about being rudely awoken. Once your vision returned -- your hearing would often be gone for several minutes after the explosion, some never got their hearing back for the whole battle, a new explosion taking it away before it's even come back from the last one -- you'd be confronted by a blurry world spattered with little black or dark gray dots and your nose would be assaulted by an other-worldly stench.

Actually, it was not just one stench. One part of it was completely unrecognizable. One man who lived near a volcano described it as similar to what the world would smell like after it erupted. The other part was a sickly sweet stench of burning human flesh. Many of the survivors looked like corpses themselves, collapsed into catatonia at the hell around them.

The explosive shells eradicated the long-armed trebuchets and shield carts all the same. To the thousand-man formations, it was as if they had lost the safe space in which they could hide. If they remained, only being blasted away awaited them. The men, most of whom had sworn never to back down quickly, fell apart.

It was a humongous failure. This was the Union's greatest loss to date. Most of their casualties were amongst their elite units at the front of their formation. They lost 70 thousand to death, and 200 thousand to the enemy.

The most bleeding loss, however, was the 14 blademasters and just over a 100 gold-rankers that fell with the cannons' first volley. They had bet everything on this engagement, if they won, they would have won everything, but in defeat, they had now lost everything.

Their other losses could be recouped in a couple of years, two if they tried really hard, but blademasters took decades to make, and the success rate was very low. The loss was even worse because in Morante they'd lost the infrastructure, the academies, necessary to train them.

Howard scattered the cannon fire. He had a quarter of the cannons fire at a time, this way he could shorten the time between volleys by three quarters, and the cannons could more effectively use their shots by adjusting to his areas unaffected by the last volley. The first round of volley thus disintegrated several tens of thousands of enemies. They could not make an accurate estimate of the kills because there were no corpses left, just a field of small chips of flesh and bone.

The battle's name quickly became known as the 'Cry of the Cannons'. It marked the beginning of three hundred years of espionage. Every nation, every king, every noble, every merchant tried to steal the designs from House Norton, especially his gunpowder recipe. The funny thing is, they succeeded in less than two decades, but dismissed the recipe because they thought it was too simple and it got lost again amidst all the other fake ones.

In his twilight years, Duke Cobleit acceded to his granddaughter's pleas and wrote his memoirs of the campaign and its aftermath. In it he made clear that this particular battle was the death knell for the Union. It still had a chance to recover until the first cannons fired, from that moment on, its fate was sealed.

The commanders were so shocked by their loss that they became dumb. They believed their tactics were sound and blamed everything on Duke Cobleit's impatience and anxiety on the morning of the battle. The target of their ire, however, argued that they had little choice. They had little hope of their swordsaint winning the fight against the enemy duke, and once the fight there was over, the duke would rush to the battlefield and their chance at victory would be lost. They had to win the battle before the fight ended.

He believed the route of their loss lay in his and his fellow commanders' acceptance of the duke's suggestion that they fight on the same day as the duel. It meant that they had to stay on the field for a month longer than they had planned, which brought down their troops' morale and gave the enemy the time they needed to prepare their cannons. If they'd attacked as planned, the enemy would have been ill-prepared and they would have lost.

He did, however, admit his fault in not thinking about the enemy's cannons. They knew they possessed land-based cannons from the time they infiltrated the Norton homeland and stole their weaponry designs. They had become complacent because they had never featured in the battles since, other than at sea, and had completed forgotten about them by the time of the big final battle.

Since the land-based cannons never featured again, and since the defeat on sea was such a massive blow to the men's confidence, he believed they had exaggerated the power of the cannons to soothe their egos. And had this discounted them as a possible factor in the battle.

Such recitations were matters of the future, however. In the present, Lorist had just returned to Brinn Hills. He had left dealing with the aftermath of the battle to his subordinates.

Loze was chasing down the enemy and plundering the Trade Union's remaining territories. Carade and Dulles were working with the Free Union to deal with their captives, some 200 thousand. Their ally's forces were eager to guard the captives. They were moved to the middle of nowhere on the plains where they were made to build large concentration camps where they would stay for the winter. Els was sorting out the loot he'd taken from the enemy camps and cleaning up the battlefield.

Howard was leading one of his brigades to Mauvlin to help out Jaeger and Whitelion while they cleaned the place out. Whitelion specifically was determined to bring back good loot to give to their king as a gift during his crowning ceremony.

The forces faced little resistance, partially because most of the men were either dead on the battlefield or in the concentration camps, and because what few were still at home, were either too few to fight back, or were scared shitless by what they'd heard from the escaped survivors. The legions returned with bounty a plenty, leaving empty wasteland in their wake, devoid of even people. They were all either killed or dragged back as prisoners.

House Norton returned much later than originally planned. They marched into Morante a few days after 1781's rainy season began. Lorist had no need for more subjects, and certainly no desire for any of his subjects to be old Unionites, so he dumped all but the mist high-ranking captive on the Free Union.

He had Ragebear bring them to his manor. Duke Peterson, the unfortunate old clout, was an old acquaintance of Lorist's. An explosive shell had detonated almost right next to him. Luckily the shot had gone of behind a nearby mounted soldier. The mount and man absorbed most of the shrapnel so the duke had escaped mostly unharmed. The blast had burst his eardrums, however, so he could currently not hear very well and walked around with a constant headache, and had knocked him from his horse, the fall knocking him out. His attendants rushed to his side, but by the time they had prepared a stretcher, they, their duke included, were captured.

The old man accepted a cup of milk-leaf macks Jinolio offered. The young man had come up with the drink himself. The leaves of a bush native to the plains was dried, then soaked in milk before being added to a cup of macks. It had a rich aroma and a creamy taste the duke had never come across before. Jinolio had proudly presented it to Reidy, who quickly spread it to the other servants. It would just a few years before the drink became popular all over the continent and the leaves from which it was made a staple of Free Union exports.

The duke only played with the odd-looking liquid absentmindedly, however. His gaze was fixed to his captor-host, Lorist. If only he had not broken ties with the man. He had first heard of him when he was still just a no-name instructor at Dawn Academy. Now, however, he stood on three of several mountain peaks on the continent. First, he was a noble as close to the top as a vassal could get, second, he was one of the most powerful fighters in the world, and third, he stood at the head of one of the most powerful families and militaries and economies on the continent.

Lorist briefly talked about the good old days when the two had been friendly acquaintances and business partners before moving on to business. He told the duke that the Trade Union had best surrender. There was no winning this war anymore, no drawing either. They had only two options, either continue on stubbornly and watch as their castles and cities were burnt one by one before they and their families were hanged, or surrender now and preserve what little dignity they had left, perhaps even keep their independence. The bastard dared to say that he wanted to bring peace to the countries as fast as possible. As if his men were not raping and plundering their way through the lands as he ran his disgusting mouth!

Year 1781

The icicles dangling from the roof's edge dripped continuously. Today was the 15th of the 2nd of 1781, the time of snowmelt. Somewhat rarely, the sun hung visible in the sky. Morantian housewives busily hung their washing outside to dry.

Sigh, I wish we had cotton... Lorist suddenly missed the smell of freshly-dried cotton. Most of Grindia's textiles were linen or hemp based, or made from animal fur. Winter clothing, especially, was very animal based. The 400 thousand furs brought here a few months earlier had been sold in just a fortnight.

The buyers changed everything they bought to fit their tastes. They could afford to waste material on such aesthetic alterations because the furs came cheap -- very, very cheap.

Thanks to the new clothes, the city had its busiest winter in years. Protected from the cold, everyone was out and about and busy being industrious. In winters past most would have stayed indoors for the whole three months of the season, but this time the streets were only empty in the night's darkest hours.

This… This is the Morante I remember, thought Lorist.

He'd gotten to know the city during its two-decade golden age. It had been a merry and prosperous place, the most so on the continent. This was the true Morante in his mind, not the husk he had found when he occupied it, granted, he'd been at least partially responsible for that sorry state of affairs.

Charade's voice danced down the garden from main gate.

"Where's His Grace?"

"Over there enjoying the scenery."

Clear footsteps soon rung over the gravel pathway.

"What's up?" Lorist asked, his eyes fixed on the scenery in the valley below.

"Tigersoar and Jaeger have returned. They a few men too many. Jindoz is furious. He's filed a complaint."

"How many?"

"Seven... seven hundred thousand, at least..."

This was not a few! This was an entire province worth's people! Had they at least left the dead in their graves, or had they exhumed their corpses and brought them along as well? No wonder Jindoz was mad. How on earth was he going to settle so many? Especially with the rainy season just around the corner.

"Nonsense!" Even Lorist was speechless.

How irresponsible! Did they not think at all? They had just sent everyone they came across back to the Free Union, they hadn't, not even for one moment, stop to think whether the Free Union could actually deal with them.

"You damn well better have a solution to this!"

"Maybe we can send them to other places? We can send half to Yungechandler, it still needs people. Shadekampf wrote about working on Egret Swamp for more farmland, so they can do some farming. These have only been part of the old Union for a few years, they've not been indoctrinated to value freedom and equality yet, so they can still be worth something. We can leave the rest here with the new Union, they should have enough resources to deal with them."

"What about Jindoz?"

"He's biggest complaint is with the trouble the resettlers are causing. No one in the government is prepared to handle so many people, every penny's already been invested in building up Callisto Hills and Einiba. We'd initially thought there'd still be a few more years of war after our battle, so we'd dissuaded them from moving there first.

"That' no longer the case, however. They can now start thinking about developing the plains. Jindoz wants us to give them resources and supplies to help with feeding the captives. Only crying babies get candy."

Charade's answer made Lorist chuckle. News of the Trade Union's invasion had spread to Morante in the 9th month the previous year and caused quite a bit of chaos. The last couple of years of ill-governance had not errased two centuries of good rule. Many people still felt some loyalty towards the Trade Union and decried the foundation of the Free Union a betrayal of the founding ideals and everyone who supported the new government a traitor.

No one, however, regardless of which side they took, was happy to see Lorist's forces leave. When they returned triumphant, though, they returned to two halves of the city ecstatic with cheer, and the remaining third mourning the death of the continent's only moral country.

This turn of events was most surprising. They'd started out their time of tenure in the city as the devil himself. As demons and vile monsters from the underworld who drenched the city in blood and wanted nothing but to slaughter everything and everyone within its walls, but had now become its liberators, angels descended from heaven to protect, guard, and benevolently watch over the people like a big brother or doting uncle. A few young maidens had even begun husband hunting near the camps.

Before the war, Lorist and his commanders had played a major part in forming the new government. But the execution of its policies was sluggish. Though the city market had returned to the right path, the people were still hesitant to invest their savings for fear of something bringing it down again.

The government pushed many policies and prepared to invest in the Callisto's development, but the city's residents had responded with lackluster enthusiasm. With the battle now over, however, and their future bright and secure, people were beginning to move.

It was only natural for Jindoz to complain. The raids of the Norton forces that produced so many refugees only added to the Free Union's list of troubles. The government had no leeway to deal with the captives, neither in manpower nor in finances.

"How much wealth did Freiyar and Loze plunder?" asked Lorist.

"The five border provinces have been cleaned out. Ten million gold in all, not including the portion given to Whitelion or perishables. Spiel was planning to auction those things off in the city..."

Lorist shook his head.

"Take charge of settling the people in once the rainy season ends. You can pick out a few promising and capable once and send them to Yungechandler, but the rest stay. Take the supplies necessary from our spoils. The Free Union doesn't have the foundation we do, it cannot settle so many people on its own. Use Tigersoar and Jaeger as labor; they have to clean up their mess themselves. Leave Spiel in charge of the rest of the supplies."

"Understood."

"I will send Howard to help you."

"Thank you, Your Grace," said Charade, relieved.

If he had had to deal with all 700 thousand captives himself, he'd have collapsed from exhaustion. They were nothing like the people he'd dealt with back north. They had no respect for his lord's forces.

The rest of the year passed peacefully. The Trade Union focused its efforts on licking its wounds and feeling sorry for itself. No big factions went to war either. Peace reigned on Grindia. Peace, however, did not mean quiet. Falik Plains was like a termite mound. It teamed chaotically. Loze finally regretted going overboard. His head was in constant pain these days, ever since he had received the order to move some of the captives to Yungechandler. He tried many excuses to get out of the responsibility, all of which failed. But he finally brought up wanting to break through to become a blademaster, at which Lorist allowed him to recuse himself, but demanded he break through before he show his face again. His punishment this passed to Messen and Dulles.

Sylvia wrote to Lorist in the 7th month to inform him of Fennazali successful birth of a girl. Sylvia and Daisy were due in three more months as well. She even demanded Lorist go back and join her for the birth.

Auguslo wrote Lorist soon after. He congratulated Lorist on his victory about a year earlier and asked about the possibility of getting some cannons for his army. Lorist wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Talk about a belated congratulations, but that was the limitations of this world's technology. News traveled slowly here, even letters meant for a single destination took months to travel between two points with a significant portion of the continent between them.

Even travel by sea, currently the fastest was to go, took months to cover some of the longer routes. A trip from Morante to Northsea was two months long, for example.

Lorist would have none of the king's fancy, however. He said in as few words as he could, that it was impossible. The guns were just hunks of iron on their own. They needed gunpowder to propel their projectiles, and this one battle alone had used up all the gunpowder Lorist had produced over several years. He made sure to hint that there was no point, either, since it was now only a matter of time until the Trade Union surrendered.

"Any news from Duke Peterson?" Lorist asked as he handed the letter to the king's messenger.

Jinolio shook his head.

"No. We've had no contact since he was released. We should not have let him go."

"Whatever. I'll wait another month. If we don't get an answer by then, we'll head home. We can let things be as they are for now. No rush."

Arrangements

Duke Peterson finally sent a message in the 8th month. He said the Union had changed a lot. The guilds were drawing away from one another, which made it very hard to get them to agree to anything. Duke Cobleit, the nominal leader of the group had fallen sick and had not attended any of the meetings. He had only recently started recovering.

The remnants of the Alliance had started making moves on the Union's territory after their defeat in front of Bluwek. The trouble occupied them for quite a while, and forced them to keep their word and hand over Walinya's territory to the windstorm swordsaint, which quelled the Alliance's ambitions.

Lorist had to admit the Union had handled the trouble with the Alliance quite well. They used Walinya and its title to kill several birds with one stone. By giving it to the swordsaint they fulfilled their obligation to him, tied him to them, and put an end to the Alliance's ambitions for its old territory.

He didn't quite understand why Magrut didn't just declare independence the moment he arrived in his new fief. That had been his expressed intent on the mountain, at least. The Union must have offered him additional benefits. It would certainly sway him. He now had his own territory, but it was ravaged by years of war, so he needed resources and money to build it back up.

Duke Peterson only briefly touched on the Union's plans for the future. But he did take quite a lot of space to put forth his proposal. He proposed Lorist double or triple the prices of his products; he was selling them way too cheap.

Lorist could contain his laughter when he read it. He was clearly trying to win back the market monopoly Lorist threatened with his goods. Free advice on how to make more profit? Did he really think Lorist was so greedy?

If he raised his prices, the products would lose their competitive edge and the Union would push him out of the market. He didn't care about profit right now. He wanted to win market share. He could push his prices up later, right now he needed a foundation in the south -- loyal customers and a reputation. Another reason was to force the Union out of the market, or at the very least force them to sell their stuff at much lower prices. This way he could ensure that they would take decades to recover, if they ever did.

How could they still call themselves the Forde Trade Union when they were no longer real traders, much less the best on the continent? They were now just nobles slightly better at trade than others. It was his duty as one of the exemplar nobles on the continent to guide them down the right path and made sure they became proper nobles and left their trading and merchant days behind them for good. He couldn't care less whether they wanted to or not, he had decided that was how it would be, so that was how it would be.

"So they don't want to surrender, heh? Even after I give them such a good spanking?" Lorist spat as he waved Duke Peterson's letter, "I don't understand why... Shouldn't merchants be smart and cunning? Why do they so stubbornly refuse to lower their heads? How could the old Union afford to continue this war? Do they really think they can mount a counterattack? Do they still have the ability?"

Tarkel bowed respectfully.

"Word from Twinhead Dragon's dominion is that Duke Cobleit has recovered and has returned to his duties. The chaos has come to an end. Apart from Chikdor, who completely ignores orders now, the others stand firmly behind the duke."

Chikdor was the only one to come out relatively unscathed. They were in the rear and were the first to retreat so they escaped without much loss. They were now the strongest force in the Union and had become arrogant. Even worse, they plundered everything all the way back to their dominion, including others' lands.

Wessia was the worst hit. Chikdor abducted many of their best smiths and ores when they passed through their land. Most of the guilds wanted to punish them severely, a few had even called for their expulsion from the Union.

"Hehe, this is rather smart of Chikdor, hey? They fled as soon as they got even the smallest whiff something wasn't right and even made a profit on the way home. The rest can't do anything about it either since they are too weak right now. It's destroyed their trust of each other though. No one will let another group move a large force through its land, or be willing to commit a majority of its forces to a campaign and leave its homeland unsecured. They're too afraid someone else will try the same thing," commented Lorist.

"You're right, Your Grace. Apart from Forde, Riwald, and Wessia, the three guilds who lost their dominions, the other 20 second or third rate guilds who lost their territory as well still stand firmly with Duke Cobleit. Apart from them, Mayflower and seven other guilds formed a separate faction that blames the duke for everything. They're calling for his removal as the nominal leader of the Union.

"Our informants say Peterson is treated like an outsider. He has chosen to remain neutral, but has in turn be ostracized. He has rejected the mission you gave him. He's chosen to stand with the Union, whichever road they take."

So he had trusted the wrong person, then?

"Are they up to anything else?"

"Yes. Duke Cobleit has formed a force, 100 thousand strong. He's stationed them in Gudlink, Mauvlin, Sanganworb, Hasmok, and Klinkus. Besides that, nothing is happening in those provinces, it seems they intend to turn them into wilderness, a buffer between us and them."

Lorist looked at the map and nodded.

"A wise decision. If they developed them again, we could just storm in, defeat their garrison forces and raid it. But if they leave them be, it'll become a difficult stretch to pass through and dissuade us from attacking them without the resolve to see this fight through. And without any infrastructure, even if we make it through, we'll have weak supply lines. And it's not like we'd let them redevelop them, anyway. They're too close to the Falik Plains. If only Duke Cobleit was not their leader, this would all be over already. He is too wise for his own good."

"I have two other pieces of news," Tarkel continued, "The duke will be hosting a meeting with the landless guilds to get them new lands in the south of the Union's territory.

"The south is largely barren, left fallow since the Union took it. It's also been almost completely depopulated by the war. The people don't like the Union, they've been nothing but bad news since they went there, so they'll be very hard to govern. It doesn't help that Chikdor is close-by. Most of the guilds are demanding they be given land elsewhere.

"The other information concerns a communique the duke sent to the Alliance and Jigda. He's been trying to turn them against us. They want them to stop trading with us and ban our products and stand with the Union against us. They've not-so-subtly hinted at us being a new Krissen Empire and tried to paint themselves as the rest of the continent's protectors yet again,"

Lorist burst out laughing again.

"They are either incredible optimists or suffering the worst case of delusions I've ever seen. What nonsense is this about protectors? If anyone is the new Krissen Empire, they are! There used to be 36 countries in the Alliance. Thanks to the old Union there are now just 16, 17 if you include the now-independent Jigda.

"Your Grace needs not worry. The Alliance has seen through them completely. Their previous aggressions, coupled with us not swallowing the territory we captured, but instead forming the new Union has won them over to our side, or neutrality, at the very least. There's also the matter that our products are far better than the Union's, and far fairer priced. The old Union is just showing its desperation."

"We should still teach them a proper lesson," Lorist said, stroking his chin, "The army is too busy to deal with them this year… Maybe we should raid their territory next year after the rainy season. Oh, investigate something for me. I want to know what nations the territories of the five provinces belonged to. See if you can track down their descendants."

"Understood, Your Grace."

"Also, hasn't Senbaud been sinking all the Chikdor vessels he encounters? I heard their people have been forced to buy fish since they can't fish along the coast anymore. Tell Senbaud to contact Chikdor and offer to stop sinking their ships if they declare independence from the old Union and form a kingdom. We'll also let them trade in Morante. He can use my name to guarantee the windstorm swordsaint won't take action."

Lorist secretly returned home at the end of the 8th month.

Sylvia gave birth to a healthy boy on the 11th of the 10th. Daisy gave Lorist another bastard son three days later. He stayed with them until the 4th month of the following year before returning to Morante.

Lorist's family:

Irina, former maidservant and mother to Lorist's two eldest bastards (deceased, died from natural causes)

Norton Lysecott, Lorist's eldest bastard -- legitimized (deceased, hung for cruelty, crimes, and rebellion)

Norton Koboshik, second bastard -- legitimized (adopted by Knight Glacia after rebellion and death of his mother, Irina)

Nico Telesti. Lorist's lover, Dean of Nico Academy, mother to Lorist's two eldest bastard daughters.

Nico Olijess, eldest bastard daughter -- legitimized

Nico Freycia, second bastard daughter -- legitimized

Dina Arriotoli, Lorist's lover, mother to two Norton bastards, female knight, and acting leader of House Dina.

Dina Terryke, bastard son -- acknowledged

Dina Iri, bastard daughter -- acknowledged

Duchess Fisablen Sylvia, Lorist's wife, mother of Lorist's only two legitimate children.

Norton Anderbael, heir apparent, eldest son

Norton Jadebins, pretender, second son (named after the perished Paulobins, sacrificed during assault on artillery school)

Dilianna, concubine, mother to two Norton bastards,Arriotoli and Fennazali's aunt.

Norton Slophenk, bastard son -- legitimized

Norton Welianne, bastard daughter -- legitimized

Dina Fennazali, concubine, mother to a Norton bastard, Arriotoli's younger sister.

Norton Dirolia, bastard daughter -- legitimized

Maria, concubine, eldest daughter of a noble family.

Norton Moypete, bastard son -- legitimized (named after Brigadier-General Pete, sacrificed himself heroically in battle)

Daisy, concubine, of noble descent, Maria's close friend.

Norton Rolinors, bastard son -- legitimized (named after the two Dawn Academy students and Lorist's friends, Lind and Moss, both deceased)

Report

"The ruler prepares a kingdom, and the heir pisses it away."

"Your Grace, Tigersoar has sent the refugees to Yungechandler. Jaeger's mission to help settle the refugees at Falik Plains was completed in the 2nd month. They've rested for two months now and are ready for another deployment," reported Jinolio. He had been left in charge of Brinn Hills during Lorist's absence. Apart from a select few, no one knew of the duke's absence.

"Very well. How's Reidy doing?" asked Lorist.

Lorist had sent his eldest disciple to fill in for Loze, who was on leave for his breakthrough, as general of Tigersoar. The men were very loyal to Loze, so only someone of Reidy��s stature could take command.

"Brother Reidy is doing quite well. Messen, Dulles, and Modrak are cooperating and the men obey his orders without complaint."

Lorist nodded.

"What of the Free Union?"

"The government thinks our warning rings true. Premier Jindoz has started reorganizing the army. They will reduce the troops in the cities to brigade-strength. The leftovers will be merged into a new legion. The legion's general is an old acquaintance of yours, I'm told. Someone called Brennan Charlando."

"Oh? Old Char's joining the army?"

Jindoz knew that if he was to stabilize the Union he had to keep a tight grip on the military, so he made Charlando its general.

The Free Union had a new name and clearly distinguished itself from the Trade Union, but it was essentially the Trade Union as it had been two decades before this fall. The central pillar of its economy was its trade; only, without the big guilds and there monopolies, the market was a frenzy of duels and competitions for the top spots.

Lorist didn't want to interfere too much, but he had to put in some regulations to keep things from getting ugly. People were quick to throw away their morals when profit was involved. Hence his suggestion to Jindoz that he form a strong military and police force to keep a firm grip on things.

Another reason for his suggestion was so the Free Union could take up the gauntlet of guarding its peace on its own. He wanted to go home eventually, after all. He was an outsider, and his men were outsiders. Right now he had a good relationship with Morante and its people, but people would inevitably grow weary of having foreigners in positions of power, and, given how brutal the first months of his occupation had been, subversive elements had a lot of ammunition with which to sour people's hearts.

Previously people had not thought much of his continued military presence because his forces were actively involved in restoring the capital, and the Trade Union was still a threat against which he protected them. Now however, the restoration was on track and could continue without his men, and the Trade Union was no longer a threat. The people saw no excuse for his continued presence so they would soon become resentful and suspicious.

It was also likely that the merchants would start questioning whether they wanted to keep paying money for someone else to hold military power and protect them now that such a massive threat was no longer there. They would want to keep their money and fund their own forces. Such decentralization of military power would weaken the government and prevent them from ruling over dissidents who might want to change things.

"Understood, Your Grace. Sir Jindoz initially wanted to talk Sir Els into going over to his side as general, but Els would have none of it."

Ah, Old Char is beholden to his wife, Els knows. There shouldn't be a problem now that he convinced Louise.

Lorist didn't like that Jindoz, and through him a foreign power, had tried to poach his subordinates. He might have abandoned the Union if it were successful. Luckily, it wasn't.

"Anything else?"

Jinolio nodded.

"Young Master Serihanem is here, the kid from Chikdor. He's been waiting for an audience for three months. Chikdor responded to your letter by sending him and ten attendants."

"I see."

So they were interested?

"Did Serihanem seem rushed or agitated? What has he been doing?"

"We arranged a villa at the foot of the hill for him. He's not done anything untoward as far as we can tell and we haven't picked up any impatience. He does visit the markets almost daily though."

"What does he do?"

"I'm not too sure. You should ask Sir Tarkel. He had men tail him. I have heard that his attention is mainly on our products."

"I'll talk to Tarkel. Tell Serihanem he can see me tomorrow morning."

"Yes, Your Grace. Also, Baron Camorra sent a report from Jillin Harbor. The harbor and docks have been restored and its begun handling the many ships now streaming up and down the coast in the region. Baron Fenston has done his best to cooperate. He said he was one of Your Grace's acquaintances and had been looking forward to the development. He provided whatever Baron Camorra asked. He'd even offered the contract to expand the city garrison to us."

"Baron Fenston, huh?" Lorist laughed.

He can read between the lines, alright. He's always been courteous.

"Alright. Tell Camorra to give the cooperative nobles a couple chances to make some money. We'll turn a blind eye as long as they don't go overboard. Also, didn't His Majesty say he would send a division to watch over the city? When did he decide to expand the local garrison instead?"

"You forgot about that report? The king doesn't have the manpower anymore. He's had to reorganize his entire military just to keep things going with the forces he has left. He has only one legion and the royal guard that look after the capital.

"He's had to make his garrisons independent since he doesn't have the men to centralize them into regional legions, not to mention that the provinces are too barren to support large portions of the population locked in the military. That's the big reason for his survey. He's trying to figure out how to deal with this.

The only royal knights in Jillin will be the garrison's commander and the couple of captains beneath him. Baron Fenston is not happy, but he has little choice, which is why he asked us to help out. He wants us to set things up so he, rather than the king's knights, will have control of the forces."

Lorist slapped his forehead. Auguslo's army had been just 300 thousand, of which only 120 thousand were his men back then. He'd started out with 300 thousand personal forces, then lost two thirds of them.

"Camorra did well. I'm relieved he's there. Did he talk about any difficulties?" he asked.

"Baron Camorra said the work has been welcomed. Most of the nobles in the region rely on the port for most of their purchases and imports, so everyone is happy to see it improved. Baron Camorra is troubled, however, by the cancellation of our food deal with the king. We heard it was cancelled by Wecksas, now in command of the city's guard. Everyone now knows who he is, so no one dares argue with him.

"Wait, what?"

Auguslo had asked Lorist for ideas on solving the kingdom's insolvency, from which the decision to upgrade Jillin's docks and harbor. Lorist had also suggesting exporting the kingdom's surplus agricultural produce to Morante. They'd done so for two years now under the deal which made them two million a year. Auguslo had finally paid his backlog of salaries and was slowly building up a stable, solvent, financial reputation. Lorist took a ten percent commission for his part in the work, mainly transport and sale.

"Baron Camorra inquired about it. Wecksas said the deal jeopardize the kingdom's safety. He'd frozen the deal to give him time to properly evaluate how much could be sold.

"He later said that he would allow the trade to continue, but the buyers would have to come to Jillin to get their purchase. He would also not allow credit purchases, everything had to be paid for before it was loaded onto the ships. He also doubled the price and reduced the volume by half. The baron turned him down. In response Wecksas threatened to chase us out of the city if we didn't agree."

"What?! What kind of shit does that brat have for brains?! Is someone egging him on? Tell Camora to stop all trade with the kingdom immediately. We don't need their food, so there's no reason to play their games!" Lorist fumed.

So someone had set their sights on the harbor city and was using Wecksas to get it? They could go screw a boulder!

What a daredevil... Doesn't he know Auguslo? Has he forgotten how he slaughtered almost every noble in the capital?

Auguslo had wanted to borrow money from Lorist back then, but he knew the king would never pay it back, which was why he proposed the Jillin business. But now someone was threatening such an income so vital to the king? The King was not going to react well to this.

Lorist couldn't care less about Wecksas.

Auguslo had placed great hopes in his bastard. He hoped the brat could be turned into a decent heir. No doubt that was why he'd made him the city guard's commander. It now seemed he was destined to be disappointed. The bastard was far too easily goaded. It seemed he was just a greedy, horny, fool. Auguslo's only hope for a decent heir was for his new queen to birth him one he would have to raise from scratch.

"Send word of this to the king and tell Camorra to ready his defenses. It won't be the end of the world if we lose the city, but give that royal bastard a good fight. If things go badly, he can withdraw to Silowas while we wait for the king."

"Immediately, Your Grace. Sirs Charade and Tarkel have arrived and are awaiting an audience."

"Let them in, and prepare a meal while you're at

"Right away, Your Grace."