Chapter 26

The Black Butcher

Baron Lansius

The trees rustled as the wind picked up speed suddenly. As if on cue, a thousand Nicopolans that covered the landscape became alive. Shouts and yells came from their direction followed by screaming and wailing.

“What are they trying to do?” I unconsciously asked.

“Mm, it seemed that they’re forcing the old and the weak to the front,” Audrey answered.

“You can see that far?”

“You shouldn’t read too much, it damages the eyes,” she quipped while keeping her sight to the front.

I chuckled at the sarcastic remark and squinted my eyes. As she had said, the Nicopolans seemed to force a part of them to confront us. Either meant as a forward detachment or a human shield.

An untrained mob shouldn't possess such command ability. And now that separate group started to march on us. I noted many reflections from metallic surfaces, meaning helmets, spears, or the rims of the shields.

Sigh... There goes my hope that these people are innocent refugees.

“Sir Rabanus, form seventy cavalry and wait for my command.” I needed reactionary forces as a counter.

“At once.” Rabanus went to form his riders.

“My Lord, may I have a word?”

I turned around and found Sir Michael. “Speak up,” I said while gesturing to him to come closer.

“I believe there’s a way to fight just a small portion of them. Just the instigator,” Michael proposed.

“Go on.” I’m piqued.

“The ones we've questioned, talk about mercenaries controlling the crowd. My Lord, let me handle the negotiation. I’ll look for the ringleader and try to divide them."

"But how do you planning to divide them?"

"If My Lord could promise food in return for cooperation, then it should be workable.”

It was a small price to pay to avoid unnecessary killing and morale problems. “I’m willing to feed them for a few days if they cooperate, but are you sure it can be done?"

“I've seen Lord Robert do this on the eastern frontier. The neighboring nobles there used to stir people into revolt,” Michael explained.

The plan was sound, but unlike Robert, the Lion of Lowlandia, we didn't possess the persuasion power that came from a strong reputation.

So where does Michael's confidence come from?

I looked at Audrey for counsel.

“If he can avoid an all-out battle then he should try.” The wife made it marvelously simple.

“Very well, Sir Michael, take five or ten knights and go with my blessing.”

“Then, My Lord, on my signal, please ride to the front with the cavalry” Michael requested.

“I’ll wait for your signal then.”

Michael bowed and went to prepare his horse. It wasn't for long, he sallied out with just two knights. They carried nothing special, just a large banner of Korelia.

“Lans, we better suit up,” Audrey advised. “Oscar, Margo, help us with the armor.”

By her order, two squires ran to a particular cart to prepare the armor.

“Yeah…” I nodded. I better wear the armor than get randomly sniped by an arbalest.

***

Sir Michael

Three riders approached the Nicopolan refugees. Their horses' pace was calm without any hint of urgency. One carried a large banner that flew lazily against the wind.

The small number, the calm gait of their horses, and how they generally conducted themselves in a non-threatening way; stunned the Nicopolans' detachment who quickly doubted the reason for their hostility.

With their well-polished armor, the three rode like it was a choreographed parade. The only thing that looked threatening was the size of their war horses.

As the riders drew closer, the Nicopolans' detachment was completely stupefied. The riders’ slow approach gave them ample time to think. After some deliberation, they lowered their shields, scythe, and axes. Emboldened by the riders' gallantry, the Nicopolans who had been shoved to the front as sacrificial pawns, were no longer keen to serve their mercenary master.

They weren't innocent, all had stolen food and pillaged villages, but if given choice, they would rather not go against the ruling class. Sporadically, but surely, the two-hundred Nicopolans dispersed to the side.

Suddenly a path was opened for the three riders to pass. This panicked the Nicopolans' main group. They threw insults and curses to agitate the two-hundred to attack, but all fell on deaf ears.

As the detachment of sacrificial pawns renegaded, a group of armed men began to flee the scene. But there was still a large presence of mercenaries who rallied and maintain control.

A new line of a hundred men marched to the front of the main group in their helmet, ringmail, and gambeson. “Don’t come closer!” they clamored against the three riders as they brandished their swords and spears.

The riders pulled their reins. Their leader opened his helmet and revealed a handsome man with an eye patch. “I’m Sir Michael of White Lake, heralding My Lord, the Baron of Korelia.”

The Nicopolans whispered and pointed out at the big banner one of the riders carried. The heraldry shown was a blue shield with a single bronze chevron. They looked at it in fear and awe. “The black ones,” they uttered in deference.

The one-eyed knight saw this and spoke again, “My Lord has come to relieve the famine.”

“Lies! This is not Lowlandia,” one of the mercenaries shouted to their fellow Nicopolans.

“Don’t be fooled!” another warned the crowd.

But many in the crowd were swayed. After prolonged hunger and exhaustion, the promise of help was too great to let go. Moreover, nobody wanted to go against the Black Butcher.

“What can we do to receive the help of your Lord, o noble knight?” one man dared to ask.

This triggered the mercenaries who tried to silence the man, but the crowd won’t let them get close. Fighting almost erupted between them.

Ignoring the spectacle, Michael spoke, “Good Nicopolans, please stand aside. We need to oust these vile armed men who try to attack us.”

This provoked the mercenaries and an open quarrel turned into a brawl.

“Nicopolans, whom do you trust? Your Nicopolans fellows or these Lowlandians?” one mercenary shouted to great effect.

The fighting paused as many found it to be true. Mercenaries or not, they were still fellow Nicopolans.

“We had protected you from those ruthless Centurians and Sarmatians? Do you think these Lowlandians will do that for you?” The mercenary continued his speech.

Many on the mercenaries' side jeered at this verbal victory. “It’s gonna be slavery for you, fools! These Lowlandians won’t feed you anything but lies."

In wake of that speech, the crowd began to doubt themselves.

“Just give us the food!” someone shouted at the three riders and many repeated the demands.

A horn suddenly rang and startled everyone who turned to look at the troops in the distance. As if confirming their fear, tens of cavalry headed their way.

In an unbridled panic, those who could get away fled to the woods. The rest froze in face of danger or were practically kept captive by the mercenaries.

The sound of hooves thundering down made the Nicopolans plead mercy to Sir Michael.

Seventy riders galloped unchallenged as the Nicopolans' detachment fled to the woods. The riders went straight to Michael’s position.

“Behold, the Lord of Korelia and Lady of Korimor!” Michael shouted.

The Nicopolans who dared to stay quickly bowed their heads, many even threw themselves to the ground.

The cavalry stopped in good formation. The Lord and Lady appeared behind a screen of mounted knights. They were clad in matching silver-gray and golden fur coats which covered their armors partially.

Sir Michael approached to greet them. “My Lord, My Lady.”

“Sir Michael,” Lord Lansius replied as he rode forward.

Michael bowed his head and asked, “My Lord, the crowd wished to be graced with your face.”

It was a tense moment for everybody, but the Lord of Korelia unlatched and removed his helmet.

"The Black Butcher," the crowd murmured in fear and awe when they saw the dark brown hair.

He was the one, the minstrels had sung since last year in every tavern all over Nicopola and Elandia. The foreigner who defeated the Lion of Lowlandia, who paid his citizens with salt, and who beat a six-thousand-man siege in a day.

He was also the lord who married his squire over high noble blondes. Every poor in four provinces knew the story of the Black Butcher. For the food-deprived and exhausted Nicopolan, this man was as good as death incarnate.

In a frenzy, the crowd distanced themselves from the mercenaries. They wanted not to stand between Death and his prey. The mercenaries fought to control the crowd at spear point.

Michael found his chance. “My Lord, there are mercenaries amongst the innocent. They are robbers and murderers.” He pointed his sword at the ringleader.

“Sir Rabanus!” the Lord raised his voice.

“My Lord,” Rabanus and his seventy riders drew their swords in unison.

“Capture or kill anyone who defies,” the Lord commanded.

The cavalry charged in unison. Even without their long lances, they wrecked the mercenaries’ formation with ease.

In desperation, the mercenaries resorted to using human shields, but the mounted knights ruthlessly and effectively broke their ranks. Within minutes, the Korelians took control of the situation.

The rest of the mercenaries were hunted down or fled deeper into the forest.

Less than a hundred mercenaries were killed. Many surrendered and were captured. Meanwhile, the freed refugees were numbering at least eight-hundred people.

This result surprised everybody, especially Lansius who never expected to have such fame that preceded him.

***

Lansius

The scent of iron and piss lingered, but the aftermath was less painful than usual. It was such good luck that the crowd could be persuaded to abandon their fellow Nicopolans mercenaries.

This Michael is something...

The non-threatening approach, proposing dialogue, identifying the intellectual actor, dividing the crowd and the instigator… these are riot police stuff.

The noise pulled me back from pondering. It came from the crowd who were plundering the mercenaries' carts for supplies. Coincidentally, I spotted several children amongst the crowd.

“Arrange some food for the children, there should be leftover bread from this morning,” I ordered the staff. “Make sure to send thirty men to make sure everyone behaves.”

The sight of malnourished kids was too much to bear.

Luckily, the crowd didn’t try anything. Nobody uttered a challenge. Probably they had seen enough blood that day.

Once the grave was dug and things settled, I ordered the crowd to divide into eight groups. Each about a hundred with a leader, vice, and five staff to keep order.

Before the sun moved westward, I marched the convoy and newly joined refugees northwest. The scout led us into an abandoned village with a nearby stream.

There, we set a defensive parameter and camp for the night.

…

“No wounded from our side and only around fifty fell from the refugees,” Sir Rabanus reported inside the command tent.

“That’s probably the best news this week,” I remarked happily.

“Indeed, My Lord.” The old knight was glad for this result as well.

“Make sure the security is tight and night watch is in order. I don’t want surprises, make sure they understand we’re in hostile territory.”

“Yes, My Lord, I’ll personally make sure of it. Would that be all?”

“That’ll be all, Sir Rabanus. Please get some rest; we don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”

“I hope it’s nothing bad.” Rabanus’ face turned somber.

“Let’s hope so, but if today was already like this, then I don’t want to think about the situation in Vindebona.”

“Please try to get some rest, My Lord,” Rabanus advised.

I nodded. The old knight bowed his head and left.

My mind raced back to today’s event. The fact that over eight-hundred refugees survived almost unscathed was nothing short of a miracle.

I had commended Sir Michael for this result. Now, I gave him free rein to find a solution for the refugees, because for sure it wasn't possible to feed them through winter. And we also feared that this could be the first of many waves of refugees.

Moreover, the supplies were bound to Vindebona.

Lord Bengrieve wanted me to secure Vindebona as the city was crucial to block the Nicopolans from staging an attack deeper into Elandia or crossing into Midlandia.

However, the situation may already have progressed far worse than our prediction. But there was nothing I could do about this.

Earlier, Audrey had told me to task Michael to find a solution. I felt that she put the staff to handle most of the 'small' issues and let me have freer time.

Is it love, or perhaps it's because of my weak health? not sure...

Even now she wasn't here because of camp-related issues and managing her new retinues.

She had told me to sleep early, so I threw worries to the wind and went to a separate compartment. I found a ready wooden camp bed, pulled the blanket, and get some shut-eye.

…

The clanking noise of a ladle stirring in the cauldron woke me up. I found the compartment lit with two lanterns and closed my eyelids again.

“You’re awake,” Audrey whispered softly.

I let out a yawn but decided against waking up. Even without a clock, I knew it was too early.

Audrey didn’t say anything, but I knew she was doing her morning routine of checking up her gear and mine. She was a Baroness but still chose to keep the routine from her esquire days.

My eyelids shut, but I sensed the place getting darker. Suddenly my blanket was pulled and something went on all fours on my bed. “Erm…”

“Lans,” Audrey whispered close by. “Since you’re early, let me have you for today.”

“Have me… my meal?” I tried to fight drowsiness.

Something was off. She pulled my pants and just like that my eyes went wide open. “B-but there are people,” I protested.

The command tent was large with separate compartments, but the walls were still canvas. Worse, there was no door but a canvas flap without a zipper.

Audrey didn’t back down, instead, she showed me two ample reasons to accept. I gulped, it had been weeks. I extended my hands for this pair of finely shaped reasons and found myself at her mercy.

…

The crackling sound from the small fireplace gave a good ambiance. It was still dark outside, but daybreak was coming fast. This command tent came equipped with a smoke hole, that way we could light a small fire inside.

For practical reasons, I allowed the squire and servants to sleep around the fireplace. But now, they were nowhere to be seen.

I exhaled deeply. It seemed that we were caught.

“Don’t worry about it,” Audrey said with a little blush. “Squires and servants are taught to leave the room when privacy is needed.”

I could only nod.

Audrey and I huddled together around the fire. Beside it, there was a cauldron of hearty pottage. Oscar and Margo had prepared a meal for us before they left.

We found our appetite and dug in.

“I still don’t get it,” I murmured after finishing half my bowl.

“Mm, about what?” Audrey looked at me with a spoon in her mouth.

“About yesterday, how could Sir Michael win the crowd to side with us?”

“That’s predictable,” Audrey replied after scooping another warm pottage from her bowl.

“Really?” I doubted her.

“It’s not special,” she said while leaning into me. “You’re actually famous.”

“Famous?”

She nodded with a face that looked somewhat proud.

“But, how… You mean they like me enough so they don’t want to fight me?”

Audrey giggled. “You silly… They fear you, they don’t call you the Black Butcher-“

I almost choked. “The what?”

“The Black Butcher, the wandering minstrels called you so.”

“But why black?” I protested the first thing that came to mind. The butcher part, I already heard about it.

Audrey grinned but refuse to elaborate.

“Eh, tell me,” I pleaded.

Still, no answer, so I put my spoon in her bowl. To Audrey, this was as good as a war declaration.

“O-ouch!” The nerve on the back of my eyes jolted in pain as Audrey shot her gaze of death from point-blank.

“Oh, sorry-sorry, didn’t mean to,” she apologized and caressed the side of my head.

A bit blinded, but I soldiered on. “So why black?”

She let out a disappointed sigh at my curiosity and answered, “It’s the hair.”

“But mine is dark brown…. No way… they downgraded it into black?” Somehow, I felt betrayed.

“The black-haired butcher from Korelia rhymes better in ballads,” she remarked amusedly.

“It's not about the black hair,” I mumbled.

What bothered me was being treated like an oddity. Even with amnesia, some things were deeply ingrained. Things like never stood out in class or workplace.

… for them to title me like some outcast murderer... that really hit the guts.

“Lans, that hair saved the day,” Audrey warmly reminded me.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Now, I did realize why Michael had asked me to show my face. It was to show the hair as proof to the Nicopolans.

Audrey consoled me by offering me the bread she had been dipping in the soup.

I took a bite and munched it. Somehow, hers always tasted better despite coming from the same pot.

“So what’s the plan for today?”

“Vindebona,” I said, “likely with just half our forces.”

“Just a hundred?” Audrey sounded worried.

“I’m afraid so. We can’t leave the crowd alone and we can’t move them since it’s risky.”

“Either way, it’s trouble, huh?” She summed up the situation.

Outside, the guard stopped someone. Audrey readily distanced herself from me.

The guard peeked from the tent’s entrance and reported, "Excuse me, My Lord, My Lady, the scout says it's urgent,”

“Let him in,” I replied.

The scout came inside and bowed. “My Lord, we sighted a large number of troops.”

“How many?” I asked so calmly that I began to suspect that I was expecting sh!t to happen.

“Initial report, somewhere around three to five-hundred, My Lord”

Audrey stood up and fastened her sword belt. “When it rains, it pours,” she quoted my words.

I lamented my luck momentarily and faced the guard. “Call for arms," I commanded clearly.

***