Chapter 1

Banner of the Unknown

Elven Calendar 4425, three years after the Arvena War. Far from the heartland of the Imperium, Viscount Robert, the Lion of Lowlandia once again took to the field. A ragtag troop of unknown origin had invaded his land.

Despite Robert's advanced age, his eyesight hadn’t failed him. He calmly watched the opponent's formation that arrayed across the open plains.

“Our right and left wings have moved, My Lord," a dashing young man reported as he brought his horse closer. The youngster was the Marshall and he could barely hide the excitement in his voice.

However, Robert didn't share his enthusiasm. The old man chose to remain silent. This, unintentionally caused anxiety amongst his men. As they waited, the morning sun was growing hotter by the minute.

“My Lord?”

"I heard you the first time, Michael." Robert was annoyed by the man who also happen to be his future son-in-law.

"Our men are eager to fight, would you give us the order?" Michael asked politely.

Compared to Robert's wrinkles and graying hair, Michael was the epitome of youth, athletic, and full of energy. However, just like his pristine plate armor, he was green and inexperienced.

“Michael, retreating doesn’t necessarily mean that an army is weak.”

“But that’s all they ever do since invading our lands, My Lord.”

The tone was ever polite, but Robert knew his warning fell into deft ears. Still, Robert acknowledged that Michael wasn't completely wrong. Ever since he had assembled his troops and given chase, the invader didn't try to battle at all.

A week had passed but there wasn't even a skirmish. This made Robert rather timid, he felt something was amiss. Meanwhile, his younger counterpart was getting bolder and eager for action.

“What about the scouts' reports?” Robert asked. He had been mulling about what to decide.

“My Lord, I already sent riders in three directions. They reported no sightings. Only empty plains over the valley in half a day's distance.”

Robert took a deep breath and made his decision. It was against his guts, but his men needed the confidence of a war leader, not a superstitious old man. “Very well, since the enemy isn't interested in taking our bait, Marshall you may move the center column. I’ll hold the reserve with a hundred cavalry."

Soon, the sounds from trumpets and bugles were echoing throughout his army.

At the very front, banners were unfurled and flew vigorously against the wind. The captains rallied their troops and thousands marched on. Their polished armors and helmets glistened under the sunlight. Within a span of a few breaths, the entire center column advanced forward.

Robert watched as his men marched around him. Wearing a highly decorated armor and riding a fierce-looking warhorse, his lordly presence further inspired his men. However, the armor was just for show. In reality, he was too frail to fight.

Before long, the center column rejoined with the two wings that had attempted to lure the opponent.

Michael led the center with nine-hundred men. Meanwhile, each wing comprised three-hundred men. A hundred cavalry also bolstered each wing. In total around two-thousand men were thrown against an opponent which was no more than five-hundred.

It was a four-to-one advantage, a comfortable ratio for an easy victory. However, Robert was still uneasy.

Why did they choose to fight today?

After a while, he concluded that something unexpected must've happened. Something that ultimately forced the opponent to fight.

“I guess I overestimate our enemy,” Robert commented.

“You were being cautious, My Lord,” a senior knight beside him responded.

“Let’s follow our center.” Robert spurred his horse.

Subsequently, his entourage of knights, squires, and servants followed closely behind.

***

Banner of the unknown

“They’re coming!” Audrey pulled the reins of her mount and came to a stop.

In front of her was the head of this ragtag army, Lansius; although many overlooked him as a foreign nobody and mere henchman of Midlandia, she trusted him enough to join this seemingly suicidal campaign.

“Listen to me, everybody to wait until we’re within crossbow distance and then pull back to the trenches," Lansius gave the order which did little to ease the fear in his men. He looked at Audrey and spoke, "Lead the cavalry and make the breakthrough as planned.”

The girl in ringmail stared at the leader, a cold piercing one that could easily frighten children and adults.

“I’ll be fine, go, move as planned,” Lansius answered. He knew Audrey well enough to know what the stare actually meant.

“Good luck then, Lans," she replied casually.

“You too, girl. Let’s get some drinks after this ends," he said despite the overwhelming odds.

Audrey went to her cavalrymen and rallied them. Soon fifty riders began their move against the opponent’s right-wing.

Despite this show of order and strategy, the men were not thrilled. They didn't sign up for this. From day one, they knew Lansius wasn't a noble but a mere clerk of some fallen lord. He got no reputation and no standing to wage a war. Thus, everybody expected this "venture" to be a raiding party, not a battle.

Now, facing the certainty of a pitched battle against a much superior force, they cursed their trust in that damned clerk. He had fed and treated them well, but in reality, he goaded them like goats into the butcher's shop.

They came to realize that they were nothing more than sacrificial pawns in the nobility's game of power. The only thing that barred them from killing Lansius and fleeing was the desperation of this situation. They had been deceived so badly and thoroughly that there was nothing else they could do but to follow him who until now was yet to show panic or fear.

Unknown to them, the man that led them was as scarred shitless as they were.

***

Lansius's Perspective

The urge to barf and vomit was so strong that I almost lost it. My stomach felt cold and either my last meal or the sheer panic was giving me nasty indigestion.

This is totally suicidal... F*ck! Why the hell did I let myself be pressurized to do this? Damnit, even my hands starting to tremble-

“Lans, are you sure it’s alright to send her with the cavalry?” Calub, the alchemist, asked me in private. Worry and concern were all over his face.

I wiped the sweat on my forehead and spoke as calmly as possible. “Audrey is adamant to lead the cavalry, but Anci is with her.”

“Mm, that Anci guy is indeed strong for a squire,” Calub commented.

The image of a tall man who had bested many fighters in tournaments flashed in my mind. Coincidentally, he was also an adept cavalryman, the best one we've got. Of the four people entrusted to me by Midlandia, Anci was the muscle and Calub was the advisor.

"They're getting close," the lookout cried without hiding his fear.

I strained my eyes and watched as our cavalry formed a wedge formation. Meanwhile, the opponent was using line formation.

The sight of hundreds of horses galloping across the green valley was a sight to behold. The bannermen flew their massive colorful flags enriching the spectacle even more. Then came the head-on clash which was as abrupt as it was brutal. In several seconds, cavalrymen were thrown away from lances' impact and reduced to casualties.

Many gasped while I felt sickened by the bloody spectacle. Nevertheless, watching Audrey courageously led her men, gave me a much-needed slap to the face. She was my friend, mentor, and role model. I clenched my fist and felt my blood boil.

There was little time to observe her battle as the enemy's main group encroached on our position.

“Sound the signal, let’s move to the trench,” Hugo, the squire who actually led the men bellowed the order.

In response, four-hundred men started to descend. Below, another three-hundred were waiting. The men looked pale and a few already quivering when they walked.

Nothing could be done about it. This Midlandia's recruits were poorly trained, unmotivated, and had suffered many desertions. Comprised of the poor, the unfortunate, and the scum of every town and village; the bunch was every bit unfit as soldiers, more like pirates or bandits. Yet only them were available to a no-name, non-noble like me.

Maybe this all is a plot to rid of criminals in Midlandia and I'm just too stupid to realize it?

I shoved that thought away, otherwise, I'm going to puke.

I silently watched the men following Hugo's order and felt grateful for their trust. It was a big leap of faith for them, especially when I employed an unknown strategy that involved digging a series of ditches in the middle of nowhere like here. However, I believed this was the only way to win.

At the start of this campaign, I had left three-hundred men to dig the trenches. I also left most of our supplies and heavy armor.

I had ordered three C-shaped trenches that were stacked behind each other. The first trench was the widest, it acted as the main combat line. A smaller second trench was positioned behind. The third trench was a reserve. All three were positioned carefully so that each could give covering fire using their crossbows.

I had chosen this location because the ground was softer. The scouts had found out that the area was occasionally flooded when the monsoon came. Coincidentally, this also made it easy to get clean water by building simple wells. It helped to keep diarrhea outbreaks under control.

While they labored, I had led the rest of the troops to provoke the enemy deep in their territory. Things seemed to be finished as planned when we returned. Our only problem was the enemy size which was way higher than expected.

“Calub, next time remind me to triple-check the information about the opponent's strength," I abruptly said.

“Yeah, Midlandia says Robert only got less than a thousand," Calub complained while giving me a patronizing gaze.

I couldn't blame him, it was a fatal mistake that unfortunately would be paid in blood. “I heard that Lord Robert is a good commander, is he not?”

“People don't call him the Lion of Lowlandia for nothing. Say, Lans, I'm curious, why did you pick a formidable opponent straight from the start?”

"I didn't, it's just a theoretical plan and then some bastard told Bengrieve about it; and I'm screwed," I whispered vehemently.

Calub exhaled deeply as if venting his frustration. “Man, I hope whatever that is, works.”

"If it doesn't work... see you in the afterlife?" I replied awkwardly.

Calub chuckled and we fist-bumped. Afterward, he left for the right sector. His area of command was going to receive one of the opponent's wings in full force.

“Boss, we’re within crossbow range.” Hugo grabbed my arms and pulled me back.

“Right, right…” I took my last gaze at the opponent’s formation and rushed to the ladder. Hugo descended last.

The smell of earthen and the humidity welcomed me below. One of the squires readily handed me my crossbow and I proceeded to check how the string felt. I was concerned that the dampness in trenches may affect the string, but the tension felt alright.

Next, I checked the bolts stored in two quivers at my waist, each with twelve bolts. I finished up by wearing a sallet helmet. Its layers of linen padding felt comfortable. It wasn't a full-face but had a retractable visor.

Afterward, I looked at the men whose clothes were no better than their shady armors. They were sweating profusely out of fear, many reeked of piss, and some contracted diarrhea from appalling sanitation.

The eyes of many who withstood my gaze seemed to criticize me for not doing a good job as commander. I realized I couldn't let this unaddressed any longer lest they rebelled and put me to the sword.

“Gentlemen,” I called despite the cold feet. I steeled myself against dozens of untrusting eyes. The trenches weren’t wide so I climbed the ladder halfway up to make myself more visible and spoke, “It's futile to be afraid! Look to your left and right, are they not your kinsmen? Put trust in your comrades. We're stuck in here together. Do we fight, or do we give up and die?"

“I say let them have it!” Hugo shouted and luckily the men clamored in agreement.

I noticed the changes in the men’s attitudes. My oration was bland but Hugo had seized the moment. “Ten silver coins for all of you who fight boldly today! Fight harder and see that I will personally reward you handsomely," I declared.

A powerful cheer erupted along the trenches. I didn't expect this, but then I realized, money could make people do the unthinkable and make risky jobs tolerable.

***

Viscount side

Robert watched as the center column was closing in on the opponent’s line. Then something unexpected happened. He immediately sent a scout who galloped into the frontline.

While it seemed trivial, Robert knew that morale was a finicky matter. Surprised men could flee despite having an overwhelming advantage.

While waiting for news, the cavalry fight to their right absorbed their attention.

After a while, the scout completed his return journey and reported, “My Lord, it is as you suspected. The main enemy force has... moved into a ditch."

It immediately provoked a debate amongst the command staff.

"Is it really just a ditch?" Robert asked to focus on the issue.

"My Lord, it appears to be deeper than a man’s height. Two men can walk side by side easily. They also have crossbowmen ready. One even fired at me,” the scout answered.

It's unlikely to be just a ditch. Is it a distraction or something else entirely?

Robert grew restless.

“Did they purposely make it? But an earthwork of that size, enough to shelter hundreds of men, would require weeks of preparation.” The senior knight who rode beside Robert offered his counsel.

“You're right. Send a messenger to-“

“Riders ahead! Protect the Viscount,” the knight on the lookout cried so suddenly.

Everybody saw a few dozens of riders had broken through their right-wing and headed toward Robert's position.

Their right-wing cavalry was in pursuit but lagged behind.

“Clever bastard! They’re wearing light armor, our knights in plates can’t chase them. My Lord, with your permission. Fifty knights, on me,” the senior knight called his trusted men and rode out. This was his role to fill as guardian for his lord.

Robert with the remaining fifty horsemen hurriedly fled to the camp's direction.

“But the main battle,” Robert protested.

But his men were having none of it. Protecting their lord was paramount, nothing else mattered. They rode without concern as they were confident in their main army. Even without the reserve, the Marshal was capable enough to win the battle.

From the knights' perspective, the opponent's cavalry was probably the only trick they could field and now it had been nullified. In their book, this minor setback was nothing more than a noise before the triumph.

***