Apart from a few innocent slip-ups, Lansius had managed to conduct himself exceptionally well, earning Stefi's respect. Her mentor had warned Stefi about men's lecherous tendencies, yet Lansius had proved himself an exception. For Stefi, what had started as a menial job babysitting a scribe had turned into a pleasant experience.
Their camaraderie led others to tease them as a couple, which wasn't surprising given their closeness. Anyone who knew saw them as socially compatible and of the right age to marry.
As for themselves, despite her brash demeanor, Lansius admired her honesty and resourcefulness. Meanwhile, Stefi respected Lansius' educated background and his status as part of the young Lord's retinue.
A pat on Lansius' shoulder brought him back to the present. "Time for some sparring," Stefi said.
"Right," Lansius responded as he followed her with a borrowed sword. The owner allowed anyone to use it for training, but it was old and dull. As Lansius unsheathed it, he felt surprised that it was so light, unlike what he had imagined.
"Show me your middle guard," Stefi instructed, preparing her own stance.
Lansius gripped the handle and pointed his sword at shoulder height, remembering where to place his thumb and not to death grip the handle.
"Alright, parry mid, low, and high. En-garde!" With a swift motion, Stefi thrust her sword toward Lansius' torso. It came like a blur, but Lansius parried it sideways. Stefi continued with a low slash. Lansius took a step back and defended his limb with a block.
Stefi wasn't done and directed her sword upward. Lansius knew the routine, but instinct made him to dodge backward. He felt it was more natural. However, she followed up with a swing that stopped inches from Lansius' neck.
"You need to parry it," she warned him before pulling out her sword.
"My bad," he exclaimed. "But it feels natural."
Stefi didn't bother with his rant. "Again."
They resumed their stance. Repetition built muscle memory, and gradually there was less hesitation in Lansius' moves.
Stefi had worked tirelessly to teach him the correct way. At first, he had been clumsy and had some misconceptions about swordsmanship, but now he was starting to get the basics right.
The two weren't the only ones practicing. Breakfast had ended, and more people were exercising. Many young first-timers practiced with their spears, but Stefi felt that more spear training would be useless for Lansius. Since there were no words about Lansius' appointment, Stefi, as a squire, fell back on things she knew best, which was sword training. She thought that teaching him some sword combat would be useful.
Around midday, the barn turned into a chaotic work group. Some people searched for cracks in the walls to patch up, while others tended to the horses and mules. A few went outside, braving against ankle deep snow to relieve themselves in the adjacent hut.
When the sun was at its highest, everyone paused to bask in its warmth. Unfortunately, lunch wasn't very appetizing. The bread from this morning was blackened and soggy.
Lansius sat with his back against the wall, trying to munch the tasteless bread. A slice of ham, cheese, or pickles would have been a welcome addition, but those were reserved for the nobles.
"Still having trouble with the bread?" Stefi asked.
He groaned, "It's mushy and tastes horrible."
She chuckled. "Just be grateful it's still white. When things get hard, they use cheap grains, the ones they used to feed the mules."
In shock, he asked, "How does that thing taste?"
"Horsebread? They're gross, smell and taste like dirt."
Lansius' terrified face made Stefi giggle.
"Finish your bread and do some riding while there's still light," she said and rose up.
Lansius followed and spent an hour riding slowly around the tight enclosure. Far from riding on his own, Stefi was the one pulling the horse's reins on foot. She taught him how to sit correctly on the saddle and what not to do when riding.
Despite just sitting on the saddle, it was tiring for someone who wasn't accustomed to the rocking motion. It wasn't as easy as he had imagined, and the horse's smell was giving him a hard time. "Are you sure the saddle is alright?"
"Well, maybe it could have better paddings, but..." she shook her head.
Lansius understood the reason. Maintaining her gear alone was costly; boots needed new soles, coats needed mending, and horses needed fodder, to name a few. It was lucky that her old master used good bridles that still worked despite years of usage.
"Well, don't mind my ramblings. I'm already grateful that you are teaching me how to ride."
She chuckled. "Give thanks to Horsie. She's the one who carried you around."
The horse neighed as if she understood.
Soon, the sun began to set in the west. The temperature dropped and people begrudgingly donned coats and blankets. Despite daily exercise or handling animals, they rarely bathed, only doing so when absolutely necessary.
Lansius too adopted this practice to some degree, finding the hassle of bathing not worth the effort. When he did wash up, he used a bucket of warm water, a clean cloth, and firewood ash as soap.
Cleanliness was appreciated but difficult to achieve, thus it was common to find cases of rashes and other skin disorders. Clothing was the only thing preventing an outbreak of body odor and putrid smells, as the many layers of fabric kept the unpleasant odors inside.
As someone with a sensitive nose, Lansius avoided unpleasant smells when possible, but his introversion made him reluctant to say anything about his group. Eventually, Stefi noticed and moved together to a group that stank less.
The new group eventually found out about Lansius' hair. Despite his attempt to always cover it up with a hood or traveling cloak, he couldn't hide them forever. Unlike what he had feared, nobody behaved differently. The men were interested in his foreign background, but largely unconcerned. Only then did Lansius feel truly welcomed.
The cold season seemed endless, and people passed the time with chatting, playing dice, and preparing meals. When the sun went down, the barn grew quiet except for the bubbling of the cauldron and the crackling of the fire.
Despite the monotonous routine, people did their best to entertain themselves with music, storytelling, or gossip. As a foreigner, Lansius often found himself at the center of attention, but he was cautious about revealing his origin, and only offered vague answers about his birthplace.
The monotony continued for three weeks. During this period, some of the younger soldiers improved their weapon handling skills or picked up soft skills like reading and cooking. Lansius, however, made little progress beyond the basics in his sword training.
He instead focused on learning cursive writing with a wax stylus. A balding lieutenant with an arm tattoo, believing in Lansius' potential, offered to tutor him without charge, thinking that Lansius had potential and would go places.
One day, four men arrived and gathered the captain and lieutenant from Lansius' shelter. Rumors of an impending attack spread like wildfire. Indeed, the weather had calmed down, and the snow was only ankle-deep.
When the captains and lieutenants returned, they confirmed the rumors. "Pack your gear. We're going out tomorrow at dawn."
The shelter sprang to life as preparations for the journey began. Like Stefi, several of the group hailed from Riverstead. Driven out in the previous season, they were eager to return home.
"It finally happened," Stefi said to Lansius, who could only nod with a sense of uneasiness.
The next day dawned in Ceresia, with a drop in temperature and a fierce wind. The barn doors, which were usually closed, stood wide open, and lanterns and torches illuminated the inside. Dozens of men dressed in their winter gear were ready for departure.
Similar scenes were taking place in neighboring towns and villages. After being cooped up in their shelters for over a month, the Arvena troops were finally returning to march.
As Squire and Scribe apprentice, the young Lord assigned Stefi and Lansius to stay behind and take charge of the supplies. It wasn't surprising. They needed someone to guard the supplies and record them.
"Hope they win," Stefi murmured as the army received their order to march out. "Otherwise, we'll have to defend this place with only remnants and leftovers."
"How big is the opponent's army?" Lansius asked.
"Interested in war, are you?" Stefi quipped.
"Not much, just trying new vocabulary," he avoided the question, fearing that Stefi might use it as an excuse to train him harder.
"Well… hard to know. But ours should be bigger. I say two-thousand versus a few hundred?" Stefi shrugged.
Lansius found it hard to believe but he had some suspicion when he saw how many marched with him. He realized he had been mistaken in his assumption about the scale of the world he found himself in. Although he had initially believed it to be similar to medieval times, he now saw that it was more akin to an Imperial Roman, one that had thrived into the medieval era.
So, not just a Lord, but more like a Roman governor with cohorts to commands.
"Ah, so it's likely we'll win," he muttered, more to himself.
Stefi shook her head. "Nothing is certain in a war. Securing the river crossing won't be easy."
Lansius had heard that the river between Ceresia and Riverstead was wide and had strong currents. There was only one narrow bridge which was often damaged by flood. The forces who occupied Riverstead surely understood this bridge's importance and put efforts to defend it.
Looks like it's going to be a messy battle... Unless... if the river is frozen.
He considered the possibility that if the river was frozen, the Arvenians could split their forces, cross the river, and attempt a pincer attack. However, he realized that he knew nothing about the Lord of Arvena's personality and whether he would gamble on such a risky maneuver.
"Stefi," he called as he approached and whispered, "Is the Lord of Arvena, bold?"
Stefi furrowed her brows and met his gaze. "Lans, we're campaigning in the middle of winter. If that's not bold, then I don't know what is."
Lansius felt foolish for asking. "Oh, right, of course."
Stefi crossed her arms in a relaxed way. "What's on your mind?"
"Oh, I'm just thinking, if the river is frozen, then-"
"Then it's going to be easy win at the crossing?" Stefi guessed.
Lansius nodded. "Yeah, something like that."
"Well, you're onto something. If it's frozen then it's only a matter of sending our strongest detachment to cross and attack their camp. However," Stefi continued, "it's not that simple. The river is wide, and it rarely freezes entirely. Have you ever walked on thin ice before?"
Lansius shook his head.
"Well, you never want to cross it in armor, and definitely not with a group of armored men," Stefi cautioned.
"I see, so it's possible-"
"But dangerous," Stefi completed the sentence. "Lastly, if that's the plan then they'll need to move quickly."
"Why's that?" Lansius asked.
"The coldest time was several weeks ago. By now, the river may already be thawing," Stefi said with a sigh.
Lansius now realized that time was running out. With the weather unpredictable and the bridge likely fortified, the Arvenians needed to act fast. The fate of their campaign depended solely on their speed.