Chapter 22 Banner of the Unknown

Summer of the Elven Calendar 4424. One year after the fall of Arvena.

As the harvest season approached, the Great Plains of Lowlandia remained desolate, devoid of the usual abundance of golden crops and ripe fruits in the orchards. Instead, only endless fields of yellowing steppe grasslands stretched as far as the eye could see, with little signs of life.

Lowlandia province was sparsely populated and economically poor, with limited farmland scattered across its vast landscape. The Great Plains, vast but lifeless, separated the province’s two viscounties and eight baronies into eastern and western parts.

The western part bordered with Elandia and Nicopola via a treacherous mountain range that effectively serving as a natural boundary. On the other hand, the eastern part shared a border with Midlandia and one of the two Human Eastern Kingdoms.

Despite being a part of the Imperium, Lowlandia was closer to a lawless province. The local lords had quarreled and warred against each other for centuries, with the High Court paying minimal attention and unwilling to get involved as long as tribute was paid.

From time immemorial, the Imperium had seen Lowlandia as unimportant. The province was largely infertile, and its only other feature was the border with the deadly Great Marshland to the south. However, for the local lords, the place was ancestral, and they would eagerly defend it with their blood.

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Viscount Robert, the Lion of Lowlandia, once again took to the field. A ragtag troop of unknown origin had invaded his land. Despite his advanced age, his eyesight hadn’t failed him. He calmly surveyed the opponent’s formation that was arrayed across the open plains.

“Our right wing and left wing are ready, My Lord,” Michael reported as he gently reined in his horse to a stop. The excitement in the youngster’s voice was evident as it was his first battle as the Marshal.

The Viscount didn’t share his enthusiasm and remained silent. No bite, Robert observed. He had moved both of his wings as bait, but the opponent’s formation remained unchanged.

Robert’s passiveness unintentionally caused unease among his men.

“My Lord?” the Marshall asked again after a while.

“I heard you the first time, Michael,” Robert said to the Marshal who was also his future son-in-law.

“Our men are eager to fight. Would you give us the order?” Michael feared the opponent might try to flee.

Robert weighed his decision. Unlike Michael, who was in his prime, Robert was full of wrinkles and grayed hair. However, he had what the younger man lacked: experience. Michael was like a set of armor that had never seen battle, pristine and without a scratch. Robert, on the other hand, had fought in over twenty battles.

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

“But that’s all they’ve done since invading our lands, My Lord,” Michael replied.

Robert’s warning fell on deaf ears, but he acknowledged that Michael wasn’t completely wrong. Ever since Robert had assembled his troops and given chase, the invaders hadn’t attempted to fight. Instead, they simply ran from every engagement. This behavior puzzled Robert and made him timid, while Michael saw it as weakness and grew bolder.

“What do the scout reports say?” Robert asked.

“My Lord,” Michael said proudly at his preparation, “I’ve sent riders in three directions. They reported no sightings, only empty plains.”

Robert took a deep breath. It was against his guts, but he felt that his men needed the confidence of a war leader, not a superstitious old man. “Very well, since the enemy isn’t taking our bait, Marshal, you may lead the center column. I’ll hold the reserve with a hundred cavalry.”

The trumpets and bugles rang out, signaling the march. Banners unfurled at the front of the formation, fluttering in the wind. The captains rallied their troops, and thousands of soldiers advanced in polished armor and helmets that glistened under the sunlight.

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

Before the sun rose higher, the center column had successfully rejoined with its two wings, which had earlier unsuccessfully tried to provoke the opponent.

In total, there were approximately one-thousand men, bolstered by two-hundred cavalry, thrown against an opponent with no more than four-hundred.

Despite the three-to-one advantage, Robert felt uneasy. He wondered why the enemy chose to fight that day. After pondering for a while, he concluded that something unexpected must have happened, forcing the opponent to engage. “I suppose I overestimated our enemy.”

“You’re 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.

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The Banner of the Unknown.

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

Before her stood Lansius, the leader of their ragtag army. Though many dismissed him as a no-name exiled noble from a distant kingdom, Audrey trusted him enough to join his seemingly suicidal offensive.

“Listen up, everyone waits until we’re within crossbow range, then we pull back to the trenches,” Lansius gave the order.

His command did little to ease the fear in his men, but Lansius paid no heed. He looked at Audrey and spoke, “Lead the cavalry and make the breakthrough as planned.”

Audrey stared at him with a cold, piercing gaze that could easily frighten children and adults alike.

“I’ll be fine. Go, move as planned,” Lansius answered, almost cheerfully. He knew Audrey well enough to understand the meaning behind her stare.

“Good luck then,” she replied.

“You too. Let’s get some drinks after this is over,” he said, despite the overwhelming odds.

Audrey went to her cavalrymen and rallied them. Soon, fifty riders moved out against the opponent’s right-wing.

At least she’s with the cavalry…

Lansius thought while suppressing a sigh of relief. He knew that if the worst happened, she would have a good chance of escaping.

Two seasons had passed since their fateful reunion at Toruna Manor, yet here they were again, facing yet another armed conflict. Lansius felt despair from their new lives as henchmen. Worse, he had to assume a fake identity as an exiled knight from the Mercantile Kingdom. If he were caught, he would surely lose his head.

Meanwhile, even with the cavalry riding out, fear still filled Lansius’ rank and file. The Midlandians had enlisted for what they believed would be a simple raiding party, not a pitched battle. They saw Lansius as an exiled noble from a foreign kingdom, with no reputation or standing to claim a fiefdom, and so no one suspected him of starting an open war.

Yet here they were, facing off against the Lion of Lowlandia, the biggest name in the eastern part of the region. The sight of the viscount’s banners, fluttering boldly in the wind, sent a chill down their spines.

Many muttered curses under their breath, their eyes darting nervously between the enemy’s imposing formation and their own ragtag troop. The thought of fleeing to save themselves constantly crossed their minds.

Although Lansius had treated them well, nobody wished to die for someone else’s cause. Many felt betrayed, like sacrificial pawns led to a butcher’s shop. The thought made their stomach churn.

The only thing that stopped them from killing the black-haired bastard and break formation was desperation.

Anyone with a good pair of eyes could see that their situation was beyond hopeless, with flat grassland stretching in all four directions for miles, leaving nowhere to hide. Whoever fled would be easily chased and slaughtered, or captured as slaves. Their fear drove them to quietly followed Lansius’ command, who until now, had yet to panic.

Unknown to his men, Lansius himself was inches away from a nervous breakdown. The urge to barf and vomit was so strong that he almost lost it. His stomach felt icy cold due to sheer panic.

What am I doing here?

Despite the bouts of second-guessing, Lansius had bet everything on his reckless plan. He had spent his money to recruit more men, horses, and equipment, risked the trust of his benefactors, and even risking the love of his life who stubbornly wanted to participate in this madness.

Lord Bengrieve's original plan was for Lansius to create a distraction, allowing Midlandia to freely siege another barony to secure their backend.

Lansius had learned there was a bitter relationship between prosperous Midlandia and the poor Lords of Lowlandia, who secretly supported raiding activities on their vast border. Now, with Midlandia poised to fight a major war against the unified northern people, they needed to secure their weakest border.

To ensure victory, Midlandia was willing to sacrifice hundreds of men to prevent the Old Lion from learning and sending a relief force to their besieged neighbor. However, despite their apparent hostility, Lord Bengrieve wished to maintain good relations with the powerful Viscount.

Thus, Lansius, the foreigner, was the perfect candidate. Even if he and his command were caught, there would be little evidence that could be traced back to Midlandia’s court.

Externally, Lansius went along with this plan. It was a simple plan. His job was to take this cheaply recruited troop as a decoy for as long as possible, before their eventual capture and demise. Lansius was to escape with the cavalry and abandon the rest to their fate.

However, he couldn’t bring himself to sacrifice the men. The troop under him might be nothing but the unfortunates, the rowdies, and the lowest scumbags in all of Midlandia, but they were still his men.

But Mercy wasn’t the main reason why Lansius had reneged on the plan. For he had seen another sliver of hope, and ever since learning of the possibility, he had been torn between risking everything for a chance to win big, or playing it safe by sticking to Lord Bengrieve’s plan.

Only now, as he faced the enemy, did Lansius begin to feel at peace with his decision.

If you lot are destined to die, then let’s test our fates against the heavens.

Lansius had planned for a direct confrontation. In danger, he would find either death or salvation.

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