Chapter 13

Day One

The sun was rising slowly in the east. The sky was blue and cloudless, indicating another sunny day in Korelia.

Unlike the planting season in mid-spring, summer was a relatively calm period. It was a time when farmers and peasants watched their work come to fruition.

The crops on the farms were tall while the livestock was getting fatter.

Summer was also the period when the road was hard enough to travel. After months of icy winter and muddy spring, the merchants and peddlers traveled and traded everywhere.

It should be a good time of the year, but right now things were looking bleak.

Over the western side where usually there was nothing but empty plains, now appeared more than a thousand tents.

The invading army from Three Hills and Korimor had arrived.

Hundreds of flags and banners heralded large contingents of knights. Their coat of arms were giving vibrant colors to the predominantly green and yellow landscape.

Many of the Houses were hundreds of years old and had played their roles in most strifes in Lowlandia.

A hundred horse-drawn carts were circling the inner part of the camp where the nobility camped. Fancy-colored tents even lavish ones adorned with bronze and golden embroidery could be seen.

Even so early in the morning, the camp was bustling with activities.

Tens of bonfires were alight for cooking. Hundreds of servants were getting water or doing laundry at the small stream outside the camp.

Squires were tending their masters’ horses or cleaning the armor. Meanwhile, patrols were doing their rounds to ensure security.

The field was abundant with dried grass or hay. It was easy to feed the horses and they were also good to make beds. After eleven grueling days of marching, the Coalition troops finally had some basic comfort.

Meanwhile, on the eastern side, things were looking ghastly. Korelia town and castle had barricaded themselves. No soul ventured outside the surrounding ditches and gate.

Today was the first morning of the invasion.

***

Coalition Side

Since the crack of dawn, Baron Omin was busy making rounds. This campaign was his labor. More than just invested in it, he was the mastermind behind it.

He was the one who had goaded Viscount Jorge to launch the attack. Because, unlike Omin who was nobody, Jorge had a rightful claim over Korelia.

Korelia was Jorge’s birthright. He was born and raised in Korelia as branch family.

As fate would have it, Jorge was summoned back to Three Hills City to succeed his dying uncle.

Unfortunately, Jorge was proved to be incapable. His vassals seceded and Jorge waged wars upon them. Ultimately, he was unable to retake the lost lands.

While Jorge floundered, individuals such as Omin flourished in such conditions.

Ironically, the time of war was also a time of great opportunity. Originally Omin was a migrant noble family. A knight only in name, but he had risen in ranks by surviving where his counterpart was dying.

Bidding his time, Omin finally instigated a coup in Korimor. He cunningly submitted to Lord Jorge and became a trusted ally.

Under Omin's assistance, Jorge began to recoup the lost land. In exchange for his help, Jorge supported Omin's official nomination.

Last year, Omin finally received his royal patent and leaped into Baron status. Such feat rarely happened in Imperium. In a sense, he was a rising star.

Enough people were praising him that Jorge became wary. Omin knew this. Thus, he planned this campaign to keep his overlord happy.

Goading Lord Jorge was a trivial matter. The younger Lord was known for his foolishness and appetite for glory. He was also fond of his birthplace, so there was a strong urge to recapture Korelia.

With Jorge’s funds, last year Omin disrupted the grain price. With the price pushed to breaking point, Korelia troops and populace would be more vulnerable.

The invasion plan kept Omin close to Jorge as intended. This was necessary as Omin still needed Jorge’s protection before he could be truly independent.

After all, his domain, Korimor was a small city; not even a tenth compared to Three Hills.

Despite the size, Omin had managed to build a working bureaucracy, enabling him to maintain a sizeable force.

Out of the six-thousand brought for this campaign, Omin's troops was numbering two thousand with one-hundred cavalry.

Despite being smaller, the Korimors were better equipped with the Nicopollan mercenaries at its core.

Meanwhile, the Three Hills troops were mainly levied peasants, the second sons, and freemen. Many were no more than unemployed artisans or laborers.

They were only there to fulfill their sixty days obligation to their lord.

Only Jorge’s Black Knights were the force to be feared.

...

Omin reached the section of the camp he was looking for. An open field workshop filled with wooden structures, ropes, and pulleys.

“My Lord,” the master smith saluted.

“Well, give me your reports.” He wasn’t the type to waste time.

“The work on the mangonels had been started, My Lord. As you can see the frame has been erected. Today we would stiffen them and reinforce them as necessary. By tomorrow we would have a solid frame to install the throwing arm,” the master smith explained.

Omin watched the three catapults being assembled. A corps of carpenters, smiths, and hand-picked men were on it. The solid wooden frame stood almost as tall as three men stacked together. “When will they be ready?”

“If weather permits, two will be completed in three days, My Lord.”

Hearing that, Omin hesitated for a bit before finally deciding that it was unwise to rush things further.

“I’ll hold you to your words then, Maester," Omin said as he marveled at the work being done.

Normally a siege engine needed months to be built, but his were prefabricated.

“If you find any trouble, go find me directly. Your work is a priority.” He reminded the grey-haired man who looked more like a scholar than a blacksmith.

“Most gratitude, My Lord." the master smith bowed.

Omin exited the worksite.

The encampment was vast and looked chaotic to the uninitiated. Tents were erected haphazardly with small spaces to walk or ride.

The majority of the footmen were still tired from the long march. They slowly woke up as sunlight penetrated their canvas tents.

Many sat clustered around their tents or made a beeline to the stream. Parts of the camp now smelled of men's piss and horses' dung.

“Is breakfast ready?” Omin felt his appetite rising despite the foul smell.

“It should be, My Lord," his squire in front answered.

Another man, a tall Nicopolan bodyguard followed closely behind. They were heading to the inner side of the encampment.

“My Lord,” a man in a dirty cloak and leather clothing called for Omin’s attention. He waited near the guarded entrance to the inner noblemen’s area.

Omin recognized the man. It was one of his scouts. “You already gave your report this morning."

“My Lord, the Korelians are marching out!”

“What? Are you sure?” Omin was perplexed. “Get the riders and fetch my horse," he shouted while walking toward the eastern part of the camp.

Halfway through the camp, his squire brought his horse. Together with some twenty riders, they rode east.

It was a flat plain so even before getting close they began to see the silhouette. As they got closer, they could discern the lines of men arrayed between the castle and town.

Omin pulled the reins of his horse and stopped.

What is the meaning of this?

Omin thought while watching the formation.

"Go on, count them," he ordered his squire and scout. The two work in tandem to calculate the size of their opponent's force.

While waiting, Omin returned to his thoughts.

He didn’t expect any fights today. Nobody expected a fight.

Yesterday when they had arrived, Lansius sent his delegation, asking for parley. It was not the first time either, a few days ago a group of horsemen had met with us midway to Korelia.

On both occasions, Lord Jorge firmly rejected any talks. He asked the delegation to respect his claim and forfeit Korelia.

There was no indication of Lansius ever answering Jorge’s invitation to battle.

It was to be expected. From a strategic standpoint, the Korelians shouldn’t have any motivation to do a pitched battle. The Coalition’s vast numerical superiority robbed that option from them.

While Lansius' past battle against Robert was shrouded in mystery, every lord knew that Lansius favored mass crossbowmen tactics.

That was the reason why Omin built the expensive mangonels. He had expected Lansius to dig in and wait for the attack. Ultimately, there was little the defender could do in such a situation.

Omin thought that the ditches around the town must also serve the same purpose. To stall the Coalition attack, just like how Lansius did to Robert.

So, why is Lansius marching out today? Is he looking for a battle? Or is this bait?

"Seven-hundred to one-thousand, My Lord," his squire reported.

That's almost all of Lansius' troops.

He wasn’t sure what Lansius' intentions were, but he knew how to react. “Fine, I’ll bring it to him.”

In war, flexibility is paramount. When there's change, there's opportunity.

Omin intended to thwart and exploit Lansius' tactics for his own gains. With his sight set, he rode back and prepared his army.

***

Korelians Side

The castle’s curtain wall wasn’t thick and its construction was outdated. Against three mangonels, it couldn’t possibly survive more than a week of bombardment.

After the walls were breached then an uneven battle would ensue. Against six-thousands, there was zero chance to win.

If the castle was taken then Korelia town even protected by the ditch would fall.

Knowing this, Lansius took the only card he could play: initiative.

Eight-hundred men had been prepared since last night. Half of them were regular troops, the other half were militia. They had an early breakfast and marched out at the first light.

Their right flank was covered by the castle and their left was covered by the town’s nearest ditches.

Hugo was leading the troops. He was surrounded by his crazies, the crack-troops gathered from the troublemaker in Midlandia.

Since the last battle, they learned discipline and were loyal, even addicted to Lansius’ money and good treatment.

The crazies weren’t the only ones affected. Lansius’ decision to employ them all year round affected everybody.

Last year, almost all the troops from Midlandia were scrawny thin. Most came from the poor; otherwise, they had no reason to join nobody's troops.

Today, their rib cage was seen no more. Toned muscle and athletic physique were the norms amongst the troops.

The work in the ditches not only provided steady income but also body training.

Moreover, the Lord also provided meals and shelter even in winter. Without paying for necessities, this enabled them to save money.

Before, thick rag clothes were armor. Now, they were sporting gambesons and helmets. Some of the hard-working ones were able to purchase second-hand ringmails.

To say that this year’s Korelians troops were better was an understatement. They were now a fully functional military unit. No longer a ragtag of poor peasants and vagabonds.

The tradeoff from this quantity was their quantity. Lansius only recruited small numbers of fresh troops.

He was adamant not to recruit large and not to recruit seasonal. His approach was uncommon, but they felt that he was onto something.

Well-fed and paid well, their morale was high. Not even the summer sun bothered them. They had been working in this condition under the sun for almost a year by now.

Digging the trenches was hard work. Standing in formation was nothing compared to it.

Many were also driven by gratitude, even hope for a better life under Lord Lansius.

With determination, the troops stood while the large Coalition army took to the field.

As the Coalition approached, Hugo finalized his preparation.

***