11

Chapter 9

-VB-

Alvaschein, Grison

Fredrick, the Free Baron of Vaz, glared across the small field that was to be the battlefield.

Across the field, the damned Sax-Misox baron waited with his own army. Unlike Fredrick, he had both his men-at-arms and levies at the ready and outnumbered Fredrick's army by a large margin.

Fredrick really didn't want to take the fight here, but he must. If he fell back any further, then he would give even more of the higher ground, and considering how devastating he's made high ground against the Prince-Bishop of Chur, he was in no mood to let that happen to him.

He could move his army no more than three hundred yards behind him to a small forested hill, but that would leave the wide passage from Alvaschein to Albula open. If he did, then he would be cut off from his own barony. The steep forest to the north that stretched the whole width of his valley made moving his troops through it to reach his barony a possibility, but one that would definitely result in him losing manpower when he couldn't.

"I really should have sent for Hans," Frederick grumbled. The only blessing he had was that their number of men-at-arms matched evenly.

No, this was the place to fight.

"Form up!"

He would let them come to him.

Then he heard something from his right. From the very forest he was reluctant to travel through.

Frederick turned his head, almost reluctantly, and then his eyes widened comically as he saw armed and armored men coming out of the forest.

A dozen. Two dozen. Four dozen.

It was an army matching his army in number, but all of them were armored and armed like men-at-arms. They were less than a hundred yards from his own men.

Frederick gritted his teeth when he saw the sigil they carried.

He snapped his face towards Sax-Misox.

"You son of a bitch! You hired mercenaries from Uri?!" he roared. He snapped back to his men. "Turn! Turn!" he shouted as he saw from the corner of his eyes as Sax-Misox sounded the charge while shouting something in Romansh and not German. Whatever it was said to them, his words made their charge less hesitant.

Seeing their allies charging in, Uri mercenaries slowly advanced forward with their halberd pointed forward.

"Tighten up! Form the phalanx!" he shouted to his men, and unlike the levies, they listened. They pulled up their shields and their spears forward.

There was no way he was going to win this battle, but he could hold out -!

And then the frontlines clashed.

Men thrust spears forward from both sides, arrows flew freely, and mercenaries… mercenaries were trying to flank him.

"Step five paces back! Don't let your comrades die!" he ordered loudly.

But then it was too late. All of it was too late.

His left flank dissolved as ten mounted men-at-arms broke through the few men there, and moved deeper to the back of his line. What few levies he had broke at the sight of the dead and dying, and the men-at-arms tried to defend themselves by allowing a few of their numbers to turn around to stab the cavalry with speartips.

But that was enough for the Sax-Misox charge to stab a few of his men-at-arms.

The middle broke. And then the right broke.

"Retre-!"

fffwwWEEEEPPPP-!

Urk!

He staggered and reached for his throat. He felt a wooden shaft. An arrow.

"'Uoo…-!" he coughed out as he lost strength in his body.

With trembling hands reaching out even as his son tried to reach him, he felt the darkness close in on him.

'Why did this happen, God?' he thought weakly but then he saw the final blow to his forces.

His son, who tried to reach for him, his good boy who never did anyone wrong, screamed as half a dozen arrows bit into his back.

Frederick wanted to cry, but the pain in his neck and from falling onto his back stopped him.

He watched as his son's eyes dulled before him.

And then a stampede of boots came upon Fredrick's own eyes.

Crunch.

-VB-

Landwasser-Fluela, Barony of Vaz

"Kraft, what brings you here today?" I asked my neighbor(?) as he walked up with a wagon pulled by him and Arnold. They were making their way up the small hill that obscured the lower valley from where I stood right next to the walls of my compound.

I walked a bit forward and saw that it wasn't just Kraft with his wagon but an entire caravan of people.

What the fuck?

"What the hell is happening, Kraft?!" I turned around with a whirl.

The man looked exhausted from pushing the cart up the mountain valley. That was a whole fifty-yard altitude difference (I believed)!

"Hans…!" Kraft tried to say something but he was too out of breath. Instead, I turned to Arnold while walking up to the handles of the cart and -. Wait, why was Alvia and who looked like her mother in the cart?

"Arnold?" I asked the man's son.

"It-It's the baron, Hans. He died in battle!"

My eyes widened.

How… What?

"When?!"

"No more than a week ago," Arnold grunted as he pushed the cart forward. I stopped him, moved him out of the way, and pulled it forward myself. The cart moved far further with me at the helm. Arnold, also breathing hard, gasped with his hands on his knees before he recovered and "helped" from the side. "He and the Baron of Sax-Misox fought each other, but from what I heard, there were Uri mercenaries involved. Our baron lost, and Sax-Misox and Uri are looting the entire valley right now."

I almost froze.

Uri?

That's… that's where I'm from.

My neighbors there were… some of them were mercenaries.

I gritted my teeth and tried not to think about it all as I pushed forward. Then I gently lowered the handle once we were at the front of the guardhouse - or custom gates or whatever else Rust players called it - before turning to Kraft. The old man recovered somewhat, but he wasn't faring well. "And what's the wagon caravan about?"

"It's the entire village, Hans," he said, and looked apologetic. "You sent Arnold and Alvia back to us thinking that there might be a danger coming from the other side of the mountain, but there's now danger coming from the valley itself. Survivors have already reported villages being burned and pillaged by the mercenaries."

"Swiss killing Swiss? What the fuck is happening," I grumbled before I realized that there was no "swiss" identity yet. Hell, if I remembered it correctly, then this area and the surrounding region didn't even become part of Switzerland until after Napolean! That's five hundred years from now! Or four hundred. Doesn't matter!

"What's swiss?" Arnold asked me with a frown.

"Doesn't matter," I replied with more snap than I intended. "So the rest of the people down there…"

"Are from our village. Others have moved on towards north."

"I don't have room for a hundred people, Kraft! Why did you bring them here?!"

"Because your keep is the only thing that can keep us alive!" he snapped right back at me.

I couldn't even fault the man. I hated the fact that he just sprung this on me, and I was not cold enough to reject them. Not when women like Alvia and her mother who were behind me would have been raped - if not killed afterward - when pillaging and looting happened.

I couldn't just look away when that shit happened to people I knew!

"Did you at least bring food to last the fall and winter?" I asked with a hiss. Because fall was fast approaching, and there was no way they could have harvested their grains already. It didn't fall yet so it wasn't ready.

"Everything we had."

I gave him the stink. "Is that enough for the fucking fall and winter?" I asked again.

Despite my cussing, he looked down, biting his own lips.

"No."

"Fucking-!"

The situation was devolving fast becoming Don't Starve Together, not Rust.

"How many people?"

"Forty."

Forty?! My home/base, by my standard, was good for no more than ten people! Forget cramped, we would be packed like sardines!

"We're willing to fight if you would have us."

I paused.

… It was true that it would be a mess to keep my home safe by myself. Anything more than a hundred people, which wasn't even an army, would leave me too tired to defend myself. If I had even ten people with me manning the watchtowers and shooting arrows, then defending my home wasn't out of the picture.

"I have rules about sanitation," I relented.

"It's your home, and I've heard of them from Alvia and Arnold. We'll be sure to follow them."

"And make sure the rest of your village does, too," I added with a defeated sigh. "I expect everyone to train with bows and spears, alright?" I demanded.

He nodded rapidly.

"Good," I grunted before opening the doors of the guardhouse. "No more than three carts inside the walls. The rest are to be kept out here, understood?"

The smiles I got blinded me with their relief.

I felt guilty about thinking to use them as manpower.

As the refugees from Travaos made their way into my compound, which was much larger than when Alvia and Arnold had been around (the two were looking at me with wide eyes and mouthing about how much bigger the keep was), I realized that there was a chance that my dad or my brothers might be among the Uri mercenaries.

I really hoped they weren't part of the mercenary contingent and that the mercenaries won't come this way.

I really really hoped. No.

I prayed.

-VB-

Zernez

Rudolf rode before the assembled troops.

This sort of opportunity came once in a lifetime, and he intended to take this chance by the reins.

Standing before him, his one hundred and fifty men-at-arms looked disciplined. Good.

Behind them, the three hundred levies from all over his county stood at the ready. Even better.

And beyond them stood an extra one hundred mercenaries from Bavaria that his family had hired on the fly over the last two weeks.

This gave him a total of five hundred and fifty troops, which was fifty more than he expected. This was good!

"We will conquer Landwasser," he claimed loudly. "And we, the victors, will claim the bounties that we so deserve for being able to stake our claim in the annals of history!"

His men-at-arms cheered.

"Today, we march! Landwasser and its fertile valley will be ours!"

"To the glory of Waldenburg!" they cheered.

And so, they marched.

To glory!

Chapter 10

-VB-

Fluela, Barony of Vaz

The sound of over half a thousand men marching forward made Rudolf feel stronger than he ought to feel. That was alright, though, because as soon as the Landwasser valley came underneath their family, they would divide it up for him and his children to rule.

The most crucial of the territories, however, would not be within the valley itself but this Fluela Gorge, where the Fluela Pass connected Landwasser to Zernez. It would be through there that taxes would be passed through, mostly in grain, and so control of the pass itself would have to remain with him or his heir to not cause issues in the ruling of the county. Of course, depending on how long his family could keep their rule over Landwasser quiet, they might be able to get away for a long time, maybe even up to a generation, on how much tax needed to pay.

"Milord, scouts have returned," his right-hand knight, Sir Conrad, spoke while trotting up to his side, pushing some of the mercenaries out of the way. "It is important information."

Rudolf did not like the sound of that. Conrad was a serious and blunt man. A little incapable of thinking ahead but he more than made up for it by being able to swing that heavy longsword of his with ease. When Conrad said something was important, it was, and if it was important, then it was usually bad news.

"What is it?" he asked the man with a put upon sigh.

"There is a wooden fort blocking the entire width of the easily traversable portion of the valley."

He blinked and turned to look at Conrad. "A fort? Up here in the gorge?"

"Yes," his knight replied. "It was Johan and Memin, milord."

They were good men and even better men-at-arms. They wouldn't say anything unneeded or report falsehood. If they said there was a wooden fort covering much of the width of the gorge, then there was a fort-like that up ahead and around the bend.

"How far ahead and are they aware of us?"

"Unknown, milord. Johan didn't want to approach a fort held by possible enemies."

"Good approach," he hummed. "If there is a fort here, then it could only be held by the baron. It must be taken down for us to reach Landwasser valley."

"Shall we prepare for a siege?"

"No. That will take too long. We will break down the gate and storm the fort. For a small fort, there can't be more than a hundred men, if that."

Conrad nodded and quickly trotted off. "Prepare for battle!" he shouted as he ran up and down the length of the marching army. "Prepare for battle! The enemy fort is up ahead! I want the mercenaries on the center and right flank! Archers are to be behind the center!"

The somewhat relaxed men jolted, almost stuttering in place, as they watched one of their commanders give out orders.

While his soldiers and levies halted on this downhill route and readied themselves, Rudolf spurred his horse forward towards the aforementioned scouts. The two scouts, his men-at-arms, bowed when they saw him approach.

"Milord," they called together.

"Johan. Memin," he acknowledged each of them. "Tell me about what you saw."

The two men looked between each other for a moment before Johan, a blonde bearded yet bald thirty-year-old tall man, spoke first. "The walls looked sturdy, milord, even from afar. Far sturdier than the walls of Zernez castle town," he reported. "The walls are also pretty tall; we'll need at least a ladder or three to four men on top of each other's shoulders to get over the wall."

"And the gate?" Rudolf asked.

"They had a fully functional gatehouse, milord," Memin, a wide-eyed brunette with a strawberry nose, grunted. "It's a small double door, barely worth being called a gate, and I wouldn't call it that, milord, if the doors weren't metal."

"... Metal doors?"

"Yes, milord, surrounded by a fully stone-built gatehouse. It's a short gatehouse, but on top of the gatehouse are some nasty-looking spiked barricades. Climbing that is not going to be easy, especially when the only gatehouse facing this side of the valley has a pair of watchtowers behind it and the walls."

This was turning out to be a bigger issue than how Johan first presented it.

"What flag does it fly?"

The two looked at each other. They were like that, these two brothers. "They had no flag, milord."

Rudolf blinked. "No flag?"

"No flag, milord."

"... So it could be a bandit hideout for all we know?"

"If that's the bandit hideout, milord, then we have a bigger problem at hand than fighting the valley folks."

The shorter and cheekier strawberry-nosed man was right. If there was a bandit clan capable of making a fort so quietly and quickly, then it was one capable of fielding enough bandits to make that fort in the first place, which had to be a lot because a fort didn't come to life in under six months (the last time he got a report of this area from the merchants).

"... Be honest with me, Memin."

Memin used to be a bandit.

"If that's a bandit fort, then how many bandits can we expect?"

Memin grimaced. "At least a hundred. Minimum one hundred and whatever poor fuckers they pushed into service."

Rudolf bit his tongue before he could cuss and alert everyone to possible trouble.

Under one hundred was manageable but over one hundred was not, especially when that hundred plus bandits had a fortified position to strike from.

"But would a bandit build a fort out here? A clan based out here? I don't think so. There were no others by the time I left mine," Memin muttered, just loudly enough for the three of them to hear. "It's more likely to be an unfinished fort made by a noble to tax incoming traffic, no matter how small. So it won't be a hundred bandits but one hundred levies or mercenaries or whatever with a core of men-at-arms. Milord, we can't fight that."

A hundred men undermanned fort was nothing.

Over a hundred men fort was doable but costly.

A trained force of over a hundred soldiers holding down a fort where flanking or surrounding the fort was not possible.

But this was the only way through. The only other way was to go all the way around, back to Zernez, and then strike at one of the even better-fortified towns to the southwest.

They just had to succeed here.

"... Can we do this?"

Rudolf was not the best fighter nor the best tactician. He knew that he needed a lot of help, unlike his father and grandfather whom he looked up to.

Memin held his hands up, sweating a little. "I can't answer that, milord. I just can't."

"Can't or won't."

"Can't. I haven't seen anything of this place beyond the walls."

This time, Rudolf cursed his luck.

"Then we strike at night."

It was dirty, dishonorable, and demeaning, but his family - his House - depended on him to raise them to glory. Fuck dishonor!

"Johan!" he shouted, and the man came. "Make camp here tonight. We strike at night."

It would be messy. Rudolf knew that proper commanders avoided night battles because it was messy and no command would survive through the dark melee, but he needed to do it.

He would just have to use the mercenaries first.

-VB-

[Stealth] LvL.4

Sneaky Beaky Like.

Reduces discovery

*0.75% reduction in discovery chance per level.

*Keep reduction when moving silently outside of enemy's close vision

[Leaf-covered Camo Cape]

In the forest, you will not be so easily seen.

Grade: Moderate

*+50% base stealth in green biomes.

*-5% max movement speed

Durability: 5/5

I sighed as I took off the cape and dropped it behind the locked gatehouse guard post, closed the door, and locked it again before coming back into the fort proper.

There, four dozen people - some volunteer and some not - looked up at me as they paused their drilling.

One of them quickly ran up to me. It was Derrick, Arnold and Alvia's older brother and Kraft's second eldest son. He was also the one who took up "arming ourselves" bit of being a militia readily.

"What's the news, S- Hans?" he asked, quickly biting off what would have come out as "sir," because I was not a knight and made everyone know that after the first few sirs.

"Some pompous git's over and around the bend of the valley with over five hundred men," I grumbled. "They don't seem to be attacking right now, but all of them are sleeping, or trying to, in the middle of the day. Either they are tired as hell from marching or they are planning a night attack."

The assembled people - because they weren't soldiers or even proper militia - looked scared but there was a resolute desire to stand their ground. I saw it in how they stood their ground and looked to me for instruction.

For my command.

I wanted to grimace but didn't because it might send the wrong message. I wanted to grimace because this was not what I planned for my life away from home to become. I wanted … I wanted freedom. Away from the boredom of farm life. Away from the wars that the Swiss would jump two feet into. Sure, this place would become part of that, too, but not to the extent that the Swiss proper would have been. This place was supposed to be a sparsely populated and relatively unknown region. I wanted a home in a place no one cared for. I wanted to explore my powers safely and quietly. For fuck's sake, I don't even have a single magic spell and I was a fucking Gamer! I even had plans, no matter how vague they were, about how I was going to make magic spells for myself in this magic-less world!

It's a fucking shame, ain't it?!

I gritted my teeth and let out a long sigh of frustration. "Do not spend more than two hours each on drilling. We have to be ready at all times. I want teams of people, at least two dozen in each team, rotating in shifts to man the walls," I snapped. "I also want arrows being continuously made. No amount of arrows is ever enough. Your spears and armors should be by your side at all times! Get to it!"

The men scattered, and I walked into my towering tower(?) and quickly pulled out my best gear.

I didn't need to sleep, so I intended to be ready at all times.

---

As the sun waned over the mountaintops, I stood on the battlement of my little fort and intently watched the east, where the enemies were supposed to come from.

Exactly two dozen militiamen stood with me, armored mostly in leather and wielding whatever other scrap they could scrounge together. Though they did not have within them the discipline to stand still like soldiers were expected to on their posts on the eve of battle, they tried their goddamn best to hold their own anxiety under control.

Then I saw them.

As the shadows of the mountain swept over the fort, a small army came around the bend of the valley, carrying with them the red-on-white lopsided cross standard of some lord I knew nothing about. They marched forward, and not a single messenger came to demand my submission.

Chilly winds breezed through the valley as I took in a deep breath.

"ENEMY ATTACK!" I roared.

Soon, I heard my fort come alive with action as men gathered their arms and armor and ran up the stairs to the battlement while a dozen pre-assigned men came to stand guard behind the gatehouse.

I heard a few women weep from the far side of the camp, which actually meant that there were enough weeping that I -.

My eyes widened as I saw women, old and young, walking up the stairs of the battlement. "What are you doing … here… ?" What started off as an intimidating growl slowed to a drop as I saw even child come up and began to drop rocks they had carried up here.

"Helping," a rotund and strong-looking mother grunted as she dropped a stone as big as her head. "I'm not gonna sit by and do nothing."

I grimaced but … this would honestly help. Having someone hurl rocks would hurt the enemy.

"Fine then. Then make sure to keep your heads behind the wall at all times until I tell you to start throwing the rocks."

She nodded and went to help more.

I let out an aggrieved sigh.

I turned back towards the soldiers marching towards my fort, and gave them my best glare. I glanced at the militiamen and rock hauling women and saw fear in their eyes. I needed to do something.

My legs shook. This was nothing like the battle under the command of the baron. These weren't men called to duty to their feudal lord. Their feudal lord was dead. No one but I was here, and an army had come to burn down my home. I steeled myself and took in a deep breath.

"People of Landwasser!" I cried out.

Some of the women stopped and most of the men looked towards me.

"Look to the east. What do you see?"

I let a moment of silence hang as the people looked, some confused and others grimly.

"I see an army of looters, rapists, and pillagers!" I shouted angrily. "Look to the west!"

They did.

"What do you see? Do you know what I see? I see your homes. I see a good place. I see a good valley. I see a peaceful world. The men coming from the east want to burn it in the name of some lord who cares shit about them! They are not here to better themselves but some dick without nothing better to do but kill you and your families for meaningless gains!" I yelled. "Are you going to let them kill your brothers and sons?!"

What could have been silence was broken by a few cries of denials.

"Are you going to let them rape your daughters and wives?!"

"No!" it was stronger this time.

"Are you going to see your home burn?!"

"NO!"

"Then hold that spear high! Then hold that bow tight! Let your arrows fly true and let your speartips find their victims! Make them bleed for a lord that will do nothing for them! Make them regret thinking that you will lie down and die for their purse!"

Ping!

New Skill gained!

[Oration] LvL.1

Sway allies and enemies to your view

*Subskill [Battlecry] (1 hour cooldown) increases damage dealt and decreases damages taken by all nearby (10 meters) allies for 1 minute by 0.5% per LvL of Oration. All nearby (5 meters) enemies gain fear debuff for the same duration.

*Subskill [Rally Call] (1 hour cooldown) increases ally morale by 1% per LvL of Oration.

I grinned at the screen only I could see. Even 1% was good. I'll take it all.

"Yours is the speartip that will keep your children safe! Yours is the rock that will keep your lands safe! Yours is the hand that will forge your own fate, not dictated by others!" I roared as the [Rally Call] activated.

I saw everyone puff up as their hairs bristled and their eyes glared out.

I struck out my splayed hand. "FOR LANDWASSER!"

""FOR LANDWASSER!"" the people roared back and thrust their own fists into the setting sun and the army before them.

And the enemy was upon us.

-VB-

"What the hell is going on…?" Rudolf muttered as he watched with wide eyes as the small fort in front of him roared with defiance. It carried with it emotion he didn't expect, and it niggled at his heart.

"Milord, your orders?" Conrad asked from his side.

What else was there for them to do?

"... Advance."

"Shields up!" Conrad roared. "And advance!"

The well-armed mercenaries pulled up their disparate shields up and began to advance.

Arrows from the fort battlement flew up and struck down, and to Rudolf's surprise, mercenaries who should know better and were armored better were going down. It was a good decision to not have his levies upfront like most of his peers.

"Loose!" Conrad shouted at his archers, and they shot back at the fort. Arrows … didn't find their mark. Most of them struck low to middle of the wooden wall. "They have better range than us somehow!" The fact that it was now night made it worse for them to see what was going on.

"To the wall! Form a shield!"

The army quickly broke up into small groups and rushed the wooden wall. Those with shields quickly got up and put their shields above them as they slammed into the wall, and those without shields hurried underneath them.

That's when rocks began to get hurled down.

Arrows were one thing but rocks? They pushed shields aside if it wasn't being held by multiple hands and arms. Whenever the shields went down, men would get peppered by arrows.

Even though it was dark, Rudolf could already see bodies of his mercenaries and men on the grass between him and the fort.

Ladders made by his levies quickly made their way to the wall and men began to climb.

That's when something fell from the walls. It must have been one of the fort garrison archers, but Rudolf didn't see any arrows going over there…

His eyes widened when he saw a knight, that was a knight that fell, slammed onto his two feet on the ground, and pulled out two axes.

Then he rushed his shielded and climbing soldiers.

"Stop him!" he roared.

Conrad, just seeing the attacker, shouted the same.

But it was too late.

The first ladder, one of only five they had, snapped in half as the knight, who must be only wearing half of his regular armor, jumped off of a shield held by his soldiers and cut apart the man in the middling of climbing and the ladder itself at once. He landed before the rest of the ladder fell and continued to rush forward. Some of the shielded men in the closest pile of men saw the knight coming and thrust their spears at him.

The knight dodged around the thrust, cut the spear shaft, and crashed into the men underneath the shield. A cry rang out as the shield holder went down and arrows rained down on his men and the night.

Rudolf felt his jaws drop when he saw the knight swerve out of the way of the arrows and let them strike his soldiers.

"This is a disaster," he muttered. Already, more than fifty of his soldiers were dead, mercenaries, levies, and men-at-arms alike.

The knight then abruptly turned towards him.

Rudolf froze when a metal helmet with narrow slits focused on him.

The knight charged … towards him.

"GUARDS!" Conrad roared as the knight closed in on them at ridiculous speed. "Protect the count!" A dozen of his best knights and men-at-arms stepped forward with their spears, swords, and axes drawn.

There was a blur as the enemy knight reached the first of his knights.

And then his soldier's head flew off.

There was a pause as everyone tried to register what just happened, but in that single instance, a second knight's arm - armor and all - flew off with a blood spray and a horrendous scream of pain.

The third soldier, a man-at-arms, quickly held up his shield.

It didn't do anything as the axe cleaved through the shield and the man-at-arms's helmet and head.

The knight roared.

Fear swept through them all like a freezing winter chill, and the fourth and fifth knights died like dogs.

The remaining seven stepped back in fear.

Rudolf, shivering and trembling, drew his own sword.

The knight's head, lolling to the side, snapped forward and locked in on him.

"You," a grizzly voice dripping with bloodlust growled out. "Will die tonight."

"CUR!" Conrad roared as he held his longsword up. "CHARGE, MEN!"

All seven knights and men-at-arms roared as they followed Conrad. They held their weapons high and then struck -.

They all watched in disbelief as a man jumped over them all, spinning and cleaving another helmet and head, and then landed behind them.

An axe flew through the air with a heavy whistle and thunked into a soldier's back. The soldier choked out a scream as he fell forward.

Rudolf barely registered his soldiers by the fort fleeing for their lives. All he saw in front of him was a monster.

"I-I will not die here! My house deserves mo-!"

Why was the man's arm outstretched?

Why was he falling and spinning?

… Oh, that's his body.

He looked thin. And weak. Was that how everyone saw him?

It's … cold …

---

Conrad stuttered as he backed away.

His lord was dead.

All of his knights were dead.

The army had fled for the hills.

The monster turned towards him as he picked up a spear dropped by one of the dead men-at-arms.

"Monster…! Devil!" he hissed.

"No," the monster replied coldly. "Just a man like you."

Conrad screamed as the speartip blurred towards him.

Chapter 11

-VB-

The Rise of Four Leagues

Doctor Brigette Hassentokten, University of Freiburg

The Battle of Fluela Pass marks a historical shift away from the power of the nobility to the power of the common people in the Central European Highlands, especially more so in the lands that would in the future become Switzerland and the Four Leagues. The battle, which took place in Fluela Pass in the heart of the Four Leagues, broke out when Count Rudolf of Zernez attempted to take advantage of the Unruly Year that had swept over the Grisons canton region. While there are no records of his or his house's goal in marching an army through the Fluela Pass, all other would-be conquerors wanted to claim a piece of the region that had previously been under the nominal protection of the Prince-Bishop of Chur.

The battle, if it could really be called it that, supposedly had two sides: five hundred sixty men, well-armed and armored, under the command of the count and maybe three hundred minimally trained and armed village militias who had fled to Fort Fluela, then a relatively unknown and illegally constructed wooden fort blocking the whole width of the valley, to escape another plundering lord's army encroaching upon the Landwasser valley from the southwest. Though protected behind a wall, this battle should have ended with the disciplined and trained army of the count overwhelming the defenders into either surrendering or fleeing. This did not happen.

What happened instead is now a part of the Swiss identity: to fight back even when their backs were up against the walls. The founder and owner of the fort, a man known to us now as Hans of Fluela (the same man who is the father of modern gemstone faceting, genetics, and two dozen other fields), rallied the evacuees and managed to defend and even kill the attacking count. Worse, Fluela Fort inflicted a forty percent casualty rate against the count's small army, the majority of which weren't the mercenaries he had hired but his own men-at-arms and levy. This resulted in Zernez becoming unstable as they too suffered from foreign invasions, including the invaders previously focused on plundering a less rich Landwasser valley.

This would become a crucial period for Fluela, because Hans and his people now had time to rebuild, fortify the entire valley, and more importantly, train.

The professor would like to point out that there are very few documents from this period, mostly because of the aforementioned Unruly Year. Most of the known data were those written down decades if not centuries after the event and inconsistencies may be present.

-VB-

Fluela, 1300 AD

As the battle died down, I sat down and allowed myself to calm down.

This battle hadn't taken long as my first battle had been, and I managed to score a very good kill. No one but a noble could wear decorated armor like this commander did if they weren't noble. I also killed all of his personal guards.

So.

That's what a more "adventurous" combat felt like. Up close. Seeing people's faces dying without a mob to drown them out. The fears and desperation etched into their faces.

… It's not going to be easy sleeping. This had been far more personal than the battlefield. It wasn't the meat-grinding maelstrom of the battlefield. These had been executions, one after another. Especially the last one. I could have let that man go, but he also saw me do things that weren't totally human. The villagers who were with me weren't going to report it to someone; how could they, in the first place, when they were only peasants? Unlike them, the last man-at-arms I'd killed had been a skilled and connected man. It was in the way he led his men and tried in vain to keep his liege alive.

He was just unlucky enough to be important enough for people to listen to him, however, limited, and had run into me.

This was different from the battlefield under the baron. On a battlefield, senses become impaired. Everything becomes muddy, blurry, and sometimes even indistinguishable. I had some of those moments when I was fighting; those moments came when I was exhausted, broke my flow of fighting, and led me to make mistakes that could've cost me my life. Here? Those men saw me do shit without any other way to dismiss it.

God, I hated having to think about this at all.

I stood up and stretched as roughly three dozen people left the safety of the fort and began … to loot the bodies.

Right, that's a thing in medieval Europe. Because of how expensive armor and weapons were compared to a peasant's annual income (if they had monetary income), looting a battlefield might even let a peasant become a knight simply by the virtue of possessing arms.

I wondered if any of the Travaos villagers had knightly aspirations. There certainly were enough young men, some of whom helped to defend my fort.

To my surprise, half a dozen people ignored the battle loot and walked straight towards me. I noticed immediately that it was Kraft, his three children, and two others I was unfamiliar with.

I waved, and Kraft waved back hesitantly. Was it the blood and the corpse around me? I looked around. This was actually better than the mess I made over at Vaz.

"So it's another battle won, Kraft," I started off casually. "At this rate, I might have mercenary companies looking to come to pick me up!" I laughed boisterously. Instead of easing them with a joke, I got four very skittish and hesitant people. I sighed and gestured for them to approach and speak. "Alright, what's the deal? Shouldn't you all be happy that we drove them off?" I paused. "How many people died?" I asked.

"Twenty."

I nearly stumbled. Only twenty?! This wasn't a bloody battle or even a slaughter! This was a miracle! We faced an army of over five hundred with our maybe one hundred, and what, we lost less than a third of our total strength?

"T-This is … I guess moderately good news!" I cheered as I stood up.

Again, the hesitant looks returned.

"... what's wrong?" I asked.

"A-A few of the enemy archers managed to shoot fire arrows over the walls and … one of them struck the small barn."

I had no need for a barn. What these people called the barn was our food storage.

"... Shit."

Winter was coming to these Alps.

And we may have just lost half of our food.

"A-And you killed a count."

I turned towards the two others with who I was not familiar.

"And you two are…?" I asked.

Both of them took their helmets off, and I recognized one of them. "Wait, aren't, or weren't you, one of the baron's men-at-arms?" I asked with surprise.

"I was, but the baron died and in the rout that happened, I and others fled to survive. The enemy we faced, Sax-Misox, had his men kill everyone."

I grunted in distaste. Medieval battles weren't supposed to be fought to the death like that. What was happening up there?

"So you're one of the refugees, huh?"

"I am, yes, sir."

"Don't say sir, I'm not a knight or a noble," I replied casually. "Okay, so, you told me that I killed a count. I'm surprised you can tell, but so what if I killed him?"

"H-His house will surely seek revenge for his death. He's the Count of Waldenburg!"

I glared at the corpse. "Just because he's a noble, we're supposed to let him go? Ransom him? When he and his ilk tried to murder and pillage your people and lands?" I pointed my axe at the headless count.

"B-But they could bring about a bigger army!"

Ah, this guy was a coward. Note to self: never give him any important duty if he sticks around.

"I know. That's why I am going to ask three dozen of us to come with me." I took a deep breath in. "And take the fight to Zernez directly."

"I will go with you," Kraft spoke up as he thumped the butt of his spear on the ground. "You won us the battle at de Curwalde. You ended the enemy knights and noble here. I have faith that you will lead us to victory wherever you go."

I looked at him and grinned. It was … it was awesome having someone who believed in me.

"Kraft."

He looked up and saw Hans staring at him intensely.

"Yes?"

"I want you to gather me thirty men. Twenty if you can't."

"... Sure."

Thirty men plus I would be nowhere near good enough to take an actual fort or castle, which I suspected this count's seat had. However, I was taking a gamble. A count, no matter how rich, could not have more than a thousand men in these valleys. There simply weren't enough people like the rich farmlands of Wien or Paris. It was very possible - it was even likely! - that this count - of Waldenburg? Zernez? - might not even have a hundred men garrisoning their seat of power. If I was right about that, then twenty men were more than enough for me to go and kick these nobles in the balls.

Also to steal their food, because the villagers didn't have enough food and we weren't sure if the looters and pillagers burning Albula and upper Landwasser valley would loot more.

I might just get through this winter with minimal problems!

Also…

"You know, those are fine steel you have there, Mr. noble," I said to myself as I began stripping him and all of the men-at-arms/knights who died defending their commander. I'll leave their clothes on.

 Like Quote ReplyReport