Horizon of War Series

Ordu Khan

Lansius

Morning arrived at Lansius' tent, its rays casting an orange glow on the canvas roof. After debating whether it was worth getting up to solve the world’s problems or indulging in another hour of sleep, he dragged himself to the water basin to wash. There, he sighed loudly, feeling tired. After the victory and reuniting with his family, his subconscious longed for a deep, celebratory sleep, but the situation remained demanding.

I hope the troops aren’t as fragile as I am.

He thought with a wry smile, amused at his weakness. Lansius washed with soap made from floral oils, a luxury seized from the opponent's baggage train. Afterward, he dressed and stepped out of the tent. Without his squire, Margo, who was still tending to his family, he managed on his own. It was a breach of protocol, but wartime left little room for formality, and his family mattered more than his convenience.

Moreover, he had capable guards protecting him, not to mention Francisca, who was always somewhere nearby.

As Lansius reached the meeting area in the center of his tent, he found Audrey, Francisca, and Tia waiting for him. "My Lord," they greeted in unison.

Audrey's formal greeting gave him pause, but his attention quickly shifted to Ingrid, who was rising from Valerie’s side to greet him. He waved her off. "No need," he said as he approached. "How is she?"

Ingrid hesitated before answering, "Unfortunately, she’s getting weaker." She paused as if steeling herself. "The physician came earlier and… my apologies, but he said we might need to prepare ourselves for the inevitable."

Lansius sighed sharply, the sound heavy with pain. There went his hope for better days. To wake up only to hear that his only friend from his world was dying—and that they needed to prepare for her funeral—was a cruel blow. He gazed at Valerie, noting how pale and frail she looked compared to the night before.

Is she in a coma? He wondered.

Audrey took his right arm and caressed it gently in support. Their eyes met briefly, exchanging a warm but somber glance.

"I’ll send someone to ask for Sir Stan," Audrey offered.

"Please do." Then, addressing the others, he said, "The day is too early to give up."

"Bloodvine then?" Francisca asked.

Lansius nodded. "If death is certain, the risk is acceptable."

...

While waiting for Sir Stan and the physician to arrive, Lansius and Audrey headed toward a separate guest tent where Belgutei was waiting. Despite the sorrow weighing them from Valerie’s situation, other matters could not wait. They were still in the midst of a campaign, and no emotional attachment should disrupt a military operation.

Lansius saw a confident man, his leather jacket worn over ringmail, with a pashmina, akin to silk, draped over his muscular frame. "My Khan," Belgutei greeted warmly as they entered.

Lansius raised a brow at the unfamiliar title. "Don’t you mean Noyan?"

Belgutei laughed heartily. "Don’t be so modest. You’re no longer just a leader of ten thousand. You can’t keep that title forever. The tribesmen would be embarrassed," he reasoned. "We need to give you something more fitting. So, My Khan and My Khatun, please accept our greetings."

Lansius couldn’t hide his pleasure and turned to Audrey, who sported a proud smile. She then asked, "But do all the elders agree to this?"

"Of course not, My Khatun. You know those old fools—they always find something to bicker about. Since the start, a few even tried to discourage Batu and me from participating here, saying the Khan's fortune is only in the south and that the spirit of the Great Plains is only good in Lowlandia. That old fool! I’m going to take his youngest daughter as my third wife so he’ll miss her dearly," Belgutei finished with cheerful laughter.

Lansius could only match his laughter, knowing it was half a jest. Belgutei’s reputation preceded him; he was one of the most reasonable warriors and would never force a marriage.

"Tell the elders that I bring my own fortune," Lansius said, gesturing toward Audrey. "She’s right there, sitting next to us."

Audrey gave Lansius a playful look that seemed to say, I like that.

Belgutei beamed with joy. "My Khatun, watching your belly gives us great hope for the future. I pray the Sky and the Land protect you and the child in your womb."

"Gratitude. I hope the Sky will always watch over our tribes, our flocks, and our lands," Audrey replied gracefully.

Belgutei bowed his head solemnly.

Lansius then added, "Since you hold us in such high regard, I wish we could call you Uncle Belgu, as the tribesmen call older family members."

Belgutei’s face lit up with joy, his broad smile revealing his pride. He placed a hand over his chest and bowed slightly. "Please, it’s an honor," he said warmly. Straightening, he added, "Then, to what honor do I owe today’s invitation?"

"Uncle, the tribesmen's participation in yesterday’s battle was nothing short of magnificent. We could not have won so decisively without your archers and warriors. Outstanding discipline and outstanding marksmanship. The Sky will certainly be pleased. For all your contributions, aside from the loot collected from their baggage train, I’m granting your tribesmen half of the captured people, fitting for six years of labor."

"My Khan, My Noyan, on behalf of the tribesmen, please accept our gratitude."

"That is settled." Lansius extended his right hand, and the two clasped it firmly.

"Now, let us talk further—I have another offer to make," Lansius continued.

"Let it be spoken, My Khan," Belgutei said, his expression brightening with intrigue.

"Half of the captured amounts to two thousand, and this concerns me. Two thousand is a great many mouths to feed. Do you think the tribesmen need that many?"

Belgutei crossed his arms and nodded thoughtfully. "I have to admit, it’s a lot. We can take them, but whether we can keep them safe or provide enough goats to work with—that’s another matter."

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"Then tell me how many you need. I can come up with a plan that might benefit you," Lansius offered.

"The number who participated is a thousand. If everyone takes one, that’s enough," Belgutei replied pragmatically.

"Then give me the rest," Lansius said. "Korelia is trying to open new farmland."

"Yes, I’m aware of that. It’s going to be great for crops."

"I’m glad you’re in the know. Now, how about this: we let half of your captured—a thousand—farm in Korelia. Whatever they produce, we’ll split. For example, if they yield ten cartloads of wheat, we let them keep five to prevent hunger. I’ll take two carts, and you’ll get three. How does that sound?"

Belgutei nodded, seemingly liking the idea.

"Of course, you can supervise the harvest to ensure there’s no issue of embezzlement between us. But I need to warn you; it’s not without risk. After all, it’s new farmland, and we’re using captured labor, so the yield might be far less than normal."

"I think that much risk is acceptable," Belgutei replied. "Like every herder raising lambs or kids, nobody knows whether they’ll grow strong or weak."

"Such is life. People under the sky like us can only try our best," Lansius said, quoting an old saying.

Belgutei nodded in agreement. "Wise words, My Khan."

"Furthermore, Uncle Belgu," Lansius paused, collecting his thoughts. "It’s just an idea, but how about using the captured people on your side to build a winter city?"

Belgutei raised an eyebrow in surprise and chuckled. "My Khan, if I didn’t know you better, I’d suspect you were spying on us."

Lansius grinned, and Audrey asked, "Uncle, what made you say that?"

"The beast women who joined the tribes have shared much with their husbands about the importance of having a communal place, especially for winter," he explained passionately to Audrey. "They’ve spoken of winter shelters for the young, hospices for the frail, record-keeping houses, schools, vegetable farms, and, most importantly, a granary."

Audrey glanced at Lansius, who chuckled, clearly pleased. He asked, "Then what do you think of it? Will it work?"

Belgutei nodded to himself thoughtfully and replied, "I’ve pondered it myself, and I think it has merit. And now that my Khan advises it too, I’ll support it wholeheartedly."

"If I may suggest, how about finding a good location between Korelia, Korimor, Three Hills, and Ornietia?" Lansius proposed.

Belgutei stroked his strong-looking chin. "That might work. We know an area with a small river where we used to rest our horses."

"I’ll establish a market post there so it can thrive as a resting place between all four cities," Lansius offered. "This will keep the city populated and allow it to grow year-round, attracting travelers and trade from Korelia, Korimor, Three Hills, and Ornietia."

***

Sir Harold

House Lansius' champion woke up as usual, despite the presence of a woman sitting on the canvas bed, still looking unsure and awkward. Harold washed his face at the copper basin before turning to Clementine and saying, "Come, wash yourself. And try to make this tent comfortable for you."

Clementine nodded, rising to clean her face with fresh water from the basin. After a moment, she asked, "My apologies, but what should I call you?"

"After the Lord's approval, you can call me what other wives call their husbands," he replied effortlessly. "Or do you have something else in mind?"

Clementine shook her head, trying to hide her smile and reddened cheeks. It had just dawned on her what she had done last night, and with no goblet of wine to excuse her actions, she had only herself to blame for the boldness of her decision.

Harold gazed at her, amused by her awkwardness as she navigated the consequences of her request. Thinking she might also be worried about her appearance, he said, "Lady, you’ll look fine in any robe or gown. And the radiance on your face needs no touch of makeup to rival the best of spring flowers."

Struck by the sudden and unexpected praise, Clementine took a step back, her reddened face quickly hidden by her hands. "T-that’s too much." She tried to regain her composure but stammered, "Don’t do that so early in the morning."

Amused, Harold chuckled softly. "I’ll be doing my morning rounds. You should stay here. I’ll brief the squire and the guards so you’ll have nothing to worry about."

"Yes, my gratitude," she said, bowing her head slightly. Earlier, before Harold awakened, the squire had entered, his eyes met Clementine's, and he left without a pip, his reaction as embarrassed as hers.

Noticing that Harold was wearing his arming doublet, Clementine quickly stepped forward to assist him.

"You know about harness and armor?" he asked, surprised by her help.

"Yes, I’ve been taught. The Guild wanted us to be prepared if we ever had to head into war," she explained while adjusting the straps and belt. "Is this comfortable?"

Harold nodded approvingly. "Here." He handed her a sheathed dagger, one of several he had collected.

"What’s it for?" she asked.

"For protection, and also as a symbol of trust." Harold studied her for a moment and saw no regret in her expression. "When I return, it’s best we head straight to the Lord’s tent and request an audience for us."

Clementine bowed her head again as Harold, soon to be her husband, left the tent. Afterward, she glanced around the small space, taking in the modest furnishings. Determined to make herself useful, she began tidying. She cleaned the wool traveling cloak Harold had used as a bedroll and folded it neatly. Next, she hung the gambeson where the sunlight was strongest, near the entrance, to refresh it.

...

Clementine

Sir Harold returned after a while, giving Clementine time to reflect and prepare herself. The squire, who accompanied the knight everywhere, kept himself outside, probably to give them privacy. Harold seemed unbothered by this and quietly enjoyed his small breakfast.

Clementine, meanwhile, had befriended the two guards outside. They managed to bring her a comb along with warm soup and bread. Though too embarrassed to talk much, she found their reactions nothing but supportive. They clearly hadn’t overheard anything last night and didn’t tease her.

Her opinion of the Lowlandian people had improved greatly. Still, she was glad that Sir Harold was a Midlandian. Like many others, she harbored a distrust of men from other provinces. Yet, with a quiet smile, she realized she would have agreed to marry Sir Harold regardless of his origins.

"Sir," the squire outside called, peeking through a slit in the canvas door.

"Yes?"

"The Lord and Lady have finished talking with Belgutei."

"That’s our cue," Harold remarked. Clementine took a deep breath as the moment she had been anticipating finally arrived.

Together, they walked toward the Lord's command tent, a large ivory-colored structure guarded by men stationed outside. A ring of barricades topped with the dreaded barbed wire encircled it. Some of the guards exuded an unsettlingly threatening aura. Beyond their towering stature and strength, their sharp, perceptive gazes made her uneasy. They had been eyeing her from afar, but their stares softened the moment they acknowledged Sir Harold’s presence.

Yet even here, knights and military officers were waiting for Harold. He spent some time in discussion, making decisions, while Clementine waited several paces away, fearing someone might mistake her for a spy. She observed the comings and goings at the Lord's command tent, a sign that the Lord was taking audiences.

Harold finally finished, and his staff dispersed to attend to their duties, leaving him with only the squire. He turned toward her, saying, "Come. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"That's perfectly acceptable," Clementine replied.

Soon, the two arrived at the entrance, the guards not raising so much as an eyebrow. A knowing nod confirmed Harold’s position as one of the Black Lord's most trusted.

Harold glanced at her, silently asking if she was ready. Clementine nodded firmly, and they stepped inside. Yet nothing could have prepared her for what awaited inside.

While Harold advanced calmly, Clementine dropped to her knees, her hands covering her mouth as she fought to keep her breakfast down. Her wide eyes fixated on the magnificent dance of magic swirling around two figures at the farthest end of the tent.

Her gift of magic allowed her to perceive magic visually, revealing something far greater than she had ever imagined. Harold rushed toward her, his voice urgent, but his words were incomprehensible. She was utterly transfixed, her eyes locked on the mesmerizing beauty before her. She had seen—not one, but two.

Both figures radiated a magical aura concentrated behind their heads, a luminous sun of pure energy. It had no single color, yet it embodied every hue at once, shining with the brilliance of golden light.

Her breathing grew ragged, and her vision blurred. The sight overwhelmed her senses, pulling her to the brink of fainting. Then, she realized her soul was being drawn toward the aura, moving involuntarily and completely beyond her control.

The Saints have accepted me?

The thought filled her with pure bliss as Harold lifted her into his arms. Shouting and yelling echoed around them, but her senses were too overwhelmed to register it. A half-beast approached, cradling another figure, and together with Harold, they hurried outside.

Clementine glimpsed the blue sky as warm, bright sunlight fell upon her unfocused eyes. The painful rays barely registered; she was still entranced by her experience. Her lips, faintly trembling, curved into a peaceful smile as her limbs went limp, dangling in Harold's powerful arms.

***

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