It is widely accepted now that Lord Vanzon, enraged at the loss of his older son Aart, assaulted the Midriver Bridge first and right at dawn, or thereabouts, breaking the truce everyone had agreed upon the previous day. He used more than two thousand fresh recruits for it, drawn from Krakenhall’s Navy crew reserves and around eight hundred of his own fighters.

This haphazardly patched together force was amassed at Ludriver Castle, crossed the massive stone Ludriver Bridge over the main branch of the river the previous day, took the northeastern route without pausing to rest and reached Midriver Bridge late in the evening before the battle.

They burst out of the foggy frozen marshes like Ora’s demons and overwhelmed Logan ‘Gray’ Barret’s patrols on their side of the river. A large portion of them attacked the bridge defenders next and caught them somewhat by surprise.

Logan’s force was a thousand strong, situated last and westernmost in the line of supply coming from the forces beyond the Montfoot Bridge and hadn’t yet gotten bogged down with civilians and laden carts drawn by beasts of burden, so early in the morning.

Due to this fact and Logan’s known level-headed approach to campaigning, the men were ready and rushed to defend the shieldwall holding back almost a thousand Issir fighters of the first wave. In half an hour, a hundred Issirs were slain for less than half the amount of Northmen and slowly but surely, they were beaten back, losing another fifty injured or drown in the river’s freezing waters.

Lord Vanzon’s forces attacked twice more without pause to give time for the defenders to recover. The second assault lasted longer, the casualties heavy on both sides, but again Logan’s now properly forewarned fighters, proved impossible to dislodge and push away from the bridge. The Issir cadets, poorly trained for prolonged land battle, were hurled back and butchered in great numbers, when they tried to run away.

At the tail end of what was to be a magnificent and heroic win for Logan ‘Gray’ Barret, surely sang for years around fires, when people would recount his story, the Crull force appeared on their rear.

Bas Crull, the youngest son of Lord Bart, had managed to slip with eight hundred men undetected in the dark, through the lulled into a false sense of security Northmen patrols of their army’s main body and flank them, crawling like wraiths at the edges of the forest in the ice-covered mud, hugging the east bank of the river the whole night and lay in wait half-frozen for their chance. He lost fifty men due to the cold, before the fight even started. Some poor souls turning into solid blocks of ice overnight. When they charged on the preoccupied with the battle on the Bridge Northmen though, Bas knew he’d won the roll of the dice.

Logan split his force in half to face this new danger, managed to block them from overwhelming his force briefly, but not twenty minutes into the assault, Lord Vanzon sent his regular fighters in from the other side and they assaulted the worn out men left to defend the Bridge again ferociously. Some say it was Vanzon’s men that broke through first, others credit Bas.

Whatever the case may be, Logan knew he’d lost and tried to pull his remaining men back, in a fighting retreat towards the main body. Alas, what started as an organized and coherent withdrawal, turned quickly into a bloodbath and more Northmen were killed running away, than fighting back. Logan himself was presumed lost, along with the majority of his force.

Two hours after dawn, the Jarl’s men had lost Midriver Bridge and the flank was open.

Lord Sirio Veturius

Circa 206 NC

The Fall of Heroes

Chapter III

(Lucius the Third,

Northern Campaigns,

Battle of the Bridges,

Either late 3rd or early 4rth

Month of Winter, 189 NC)

Lucius

Carnage at the Bridges

Part III

(A matter of choice)

“THIS WASN’T ZOFIA!” Lucius bellowed, his voice hoarse, but loud enough to be heard from most of the men near him and the closest of the Northmen. He turned to the bewildered rider that had approached to deliver McCloud’s demands and stared him in the eyes sternly.

“Go tell Twotrees, I Lucius Alden, vouch for this. This man,” He pointed at the clearly sick and trembling Morris, his voice rising even more, as most had quieted down to hear him. “Has just killed an innocent woman! What have you got to say, in your defense?”

The Captain of the Black Skulls swallowed, with a grimace of pain, his shoulders sinking.

“Just do, what ye got to do, milord.”

Lucius turned Stormbolt and walked him near the mercenary.

“Baker Morris, by the power bestowed upon me, by the Five and the crown of Regia, I sentence you to death,” He announced without an ounce of pity and unsheathing his sword, swung it hard and caught him bellow the chin almost taking his head off. Morris dropped to his knees, blood spurting in gushes and died drowning in his own blood. The mercenaries recoiled at the violence, some reaching for their weapons, but most were too numb from the events to react. A collective murmur rose though from both camps.

“My lord,” The sergeant tried to say, but he stopped him with an impatient wave, sensing his own people led by Roderick flanking him.

“You’ve been lied to,” Lucius growled staring at the agitated mercenaries. “Led here to be slaughtered like cattle, just like this woman. Sold out from your Captain and Lord Bart. Your contract is null and void. I’m offering you, a new one. You know who I am. Work for me. If this is not what you want, you’re free to fight for Lord Bart and pray the Northmen over there don’t kill you all, before his men arrive.”

“Lucius,” Roderick whispered, after the men started groveling with each other. “What is your plan, son?”

“Lord Bart wanted us killed as well,” Lucius replied, his jaw clenched hard. His mind working desperately to work out a solution. In the distance Sir Reggy watched, but hadn’t started to move yet. He had ten minutes, fifteen at the most, he thought, as his eyes set on the Sergeant. “Sergeant, you’re in charge of the company,” He barked and the man snapped out of the lively conversation he had, with several of the older mercenaries, mostly revolving about their pay and not their slain commander.

“Milord, I’m not the senior—”

“Who then?” Lucius snapped, cutting him off. Everyone was listening now.

“That would be Jake Tanner, but he was killed in Kas. I don’t know,” The man stumbled through his words, under the scrutiny of his colleagues. “Perhaps a vote—”

“There’ll be no vote. Veturius!” Lucius ordered furious.

“Milord!” The old sergeant replied, standing protectively on his right flank atop his own horse.

“Galio Veturius, I hereby reinstate your rank in the Legion,” Lucius said brusquely. “Since this isn’t the Legion, I name you Captain of these men, effective immediately. Any objections?”

“None, milord!” Captain Veturius replied lively, booming voice covering the few protests from the mercenaries. “What are your orders, sir?”

“Keep them in line,” Lucius retorted and turned his horse. “I’m going to talk with the Northmen.”

Roderick caught up with him, Galio already putting the fear of Uher into the mercenaries, while he explained they were commandeered by the Heir of Regia and any objection to his command would be a direct insult to him and King Alistair.

“What do you need them for?” The old hand asked through his teeth.

“There’s a war going on. It just caught up with us, whether we like it, or not,” Lucius replied, taking a deep breath, his eyes on Twotrees McCloud, talking with his own men. Everyone seemed on edge and worried about what was happening on the main camp. Lucius remembered the caravan of supplies and civilians, he witnessed earlier and frowned. This isn’t going to be easy. In fact, he wasn’t sure, if they were going to make it at all. “We need men and to pick a side.”

“You will side with the Northmen?” Roderick’s glare, didn’t deter him.

“Bart gave Zofia to Lord Vanzon. Harbored the killer that abducted her and broke the truce today. In the same breath, he sent us here to get killed amidst the chaos. Am I wrong?”

Roderick crooked his mouth, as if he’d tasted something sour.

“Yer father—”

“My father isn’t here, old man,” Lucius cut him before he’d finished. “I promised to return the girl, it’s true. But I’ve promised to right wrongs, before that, when I took my oaths. These men are criminals. I can’t condone this!”

Roderick sighed.

“Aye, they are. I reckoned they were, long before ye came here, Lord Alden. You’ve just made them your enemies.”

Lucius scoffed at his words.

“They were my enemies from the start. King Alistair wanted Fetya on Regia’s side. If I failed Zofia and she’s gone, I shan’t fail him in that.”

He pulled at the reins to stop Stormbolt, before the expecting and imposing figure of Twotrees McCloud. “You’ll have my back, old man?” He asked out of the side of his mouth. Roderick sighed deeply and shook his weathered head, before replying.

“Wit my dying breath, Lucius.”

Twotrees had tied his long hair back, rich lion’s mane having grey spots here and there and had plate covering his broad chest, forearm guards spiked at the elbow. His dark-green colored eyes questioning over a scrunched square jaw. Man and horse stood a head above everyone else in that small group of Northmen, the shortest of them being a seething Faye, atop her brown mare.

“Lord Alden, ye claimed Zofia was wit you,” The named warrior said, his tone cautionary. “Ye are here today, yet she is not apparently. Care to explain?”

“Dirk Curd betrayed me and grabbed her from my camp, after the duel,” Lucius replied keeping his eyes on the larger man. “This poor soul wasn’t her, as you rightly noticed. All this was a ruse set up by Lord Bart. He fooled me, same as you.”

“Is Zofia dead then?” Twotrees McCloud probed, with a smack of his lips. “Devious Dirk ain’t exactly known for his mercy.”

“The truth of it is, I don’t know. On my word of honor, McCloud. Bart used her to recruit Vanzon into this fight. I believe they are attacking your army, right as we speak,” Lucius replied and the mounted Northmen closer that heard him, repeated his words back to their friends, until their camp was almost in uproar.

“Quiet them down! Send a man to call on those guarding both sides of the Bridge,” McCloud ordered one of his lieutenants and the man galloped back to calm the riled up lines of fighters. Then he turned to Lucius again. “A ruse ye say, and it makes sense. Why are they not attacking?”

“I bought off their contract. They were aggrieved by their previous employer,” Lucius explained.

“How about Bart’s men? I can see them from here,” Twotrees noted, crooking his mouth.

“They’ll go for this Bridge. They’re just waiting for an opportunity. If they manage to take them both, Stag’s Doab will turn into a giant trap,” Lucius warned him.

“I must help the main army,” McCloud said.

“He’s lying!” Faye snapped, unable to keep calm much longer. “Do not trust him.”

“I’m not lying,” Lucius hissed, furious at the insult, glaring at her. “Your hatred is blinding you woman!”

“Aye, hatred it is. Ye killed both me brothers,” Faye replied, youthful face difficult to be mistaken for a boy’s from up close. “Ye expect me to bed yer arse, milord?”

“Faye for fuck’s sake, shut yer mouth girl!” Twotrees barked at her.

“It was a duel,” Lucius defended himself, although he could understand the young woman’s side very well. Ralph had died in a duel and he hated the Cofol Prince for it. “Your brother pressed for it.”

“Bah,” Faye grunted and clicked her tongue to turn her horse away.

“Right,” McCloud said with a grimace. He glanced towards the scarce trees that later turned into a forest, white trunks sprouting out of the hard ground, with more density about a hundred meters from the south bank of the Montfoot and its Bridge. “Well, I must take those men and try ‘n help Gangly Steven, or failing that keep this corridor open for them to retreat.”

Lucius looked back towards the still silently watching Issirs of Sir Reggy. More than four hundred meters away. They hadn’t moved at all, which meant they were waiting for the Northmen to choose. Stay and defend the bridge, or move west following the bank of the river and enter the edges of the forest to provide a route of escape for the main army and its civilians.

“You need to defend the bridge,” He advised and Twotrees snorted as a reply. “The army is lost, McCloud.”

“These are my friends, Lord Alden,” Twotrees replied, a harshness that wasn’t there previously in his voice. “Brothers and sisters, wives and offspring’s. I will split the force here, take half wit me and help Gangly Steven and ‘Gray’ Logan break out.” He stooped to the side and spat down. “It is what it is.”

“The moment you leave, Reggy will attack,” Lucius argued desperately.

“The men will hold,” Twotrees insisted.

No they bloody won’t!

“Ah,” Lucius cried out in frustration. Roderick saw him reeling, eyes scanning the terrain and the faces of the men standing in line waiting for them to finish their talk. Turned around and examined Galio’s mercenaries as well, less in number and of questionable morale, but fresh and experienced troops.

“My Lord,” Roderick said, understanding what he was thinking, “Ye need more men.”

“They just might be enough,” Lucius replied, decision made. “Captain Veturius!” He bellowed, voice cracking at the end, his throat tired and the bitter cold not helping. “Bring the men here, post haste!”

“Lord Alden, what is the meaning of this?” Twotrees asked him suspiciously.

“This is me, helping your arse,” Lucius retorted in a non-nonsense kind of a way. “Tell the men you’ll leave behind to answer to me. The more you leave the better. I will hold the bridge for you.” McCloud and a couple of his lieutenants were taken aback at the offer. Lucius sighed seeing their window of opportunity rapidly closing. “Do it now, and get surprised later. Time is of the bloody essence! Remember, warn Gangly to retreat as soon as possible. Forget honor. This is not a battle we can win.”

“LORD LUCIUS IS IN CHARGE!” Twotrees bellowed unsheathing that great sword of his, the blade a striking silver and raised it high. “Rest of you follow me!”

“Tell them to create an inverted crescent, a hundred meters from the bridge,” Lucius told Roderick the moment they pulled away to go meet with Calio’s mercenaries that approached them on foot. “Leave the center to the Northmen, let our men guard the flanks.”

“What are you going to do?” Roderick asked.

“Find myself a cavalry, or a lot of fleet-footed fighters,” Came Lucius tensed reply. “I think Reggy must have figured out, what is going on by now.”

As if on que, Sir Reggy’s forces started moving, stiffly at first as if the men’s limbs were numb from the morning cold, but they’d gotten their rhythm back a few strides in and the whole mass of a thousand men, a hundred at the front and ten lines in, marched on the mixed Northmen, Lorian and even Issir forces, Lucius and his friends were a part of.

Lord Bart’s forces led by Sir Hein Crull attacked the main Northern camp early in the morning. The skies had a red color at first, turned a deathly purple, when the clouds thickened. Some say the sun never came up.

They took advantage of the confusion, carts laden with supplies amidst the lines, unprepared fighters with their spouses, companions, even hapless children caught by surprise and cut a bloody swath through the warcamp. As soon as the Northmen fought back though, Sir Hein pulled his men in a brilliant maneuver. Not everyone subscribes to this version of events. Others believe ‘Gangly’s’ men fought back heroically and pushed the attackers out of their camp. This gave time to the civilians to retreat hastily towards the Montfoot Bridge. This again, is disputed.

More than two hundred Northmen were killed on that first assault, half of that Issirs, but the battle quickly turned into a bloody scrap amidst the trees, a disorganized melee that gave the Northmen the upper hand due to their savagery, at least until brave Bas Crull appeared on their western flank.

Around the same time on the east flank of the huge battlefield, sprawling the entirety of Stag’s Doab from river to river; Twotrees McCloud, in another bizarre decision, left the traitor Lucius of Regia in charge of a meagre force to hold the vital Montfoot Bridge and took as many men with him as he could, to break that fool ‘Gangly’ Steven O’ Dargan out of the trap, he’d fallen into. The tales of bravery and savagery that followed are remembered till this day.

Lady Sanne Crull,

the ‘Crone of Eaglesnest’

Lost Victories

Circa 200 NC