Chapter 5 : Ceresia

On his last night in Bellandia, Lansius told his family about his decision to join young Lord Arte as his retinue. His family was mostly ecstatic. However, Mother Arryn felt the need to warn him, "Remember, we're just village folk, and you still have a lot to learn about interacting with nobles."

"It's not that scary, Mother. Besides, expectations are low for country folks like us," Marc reassured. He then added, "Based on your abilities, you'll probably work in the supply camp. The worst that could happen is joining a scouting party to count enemy soldiers, but that's unlikely since you'd need to know how to ride a horse."

Lansius nodded, hoping Marc's assessment was accurate.

"You know what Connor told me?" Marc asked.

"The butcher? No, why?"

"Don't overthink it. Learn as you go if you have to. Opportunities are rare," Marc said, smirking proudly as he reiterated Connor's advice when Marc was selected for training.

Mother Arryn crossed her arms and muttered, "Well, the worst that can happen is they'll send you home."

Marc laughed and patted Lansius' shoulder. "I'll lend you my rucksack and shoulder bag. Now, let's prepare things for the journey."

Lansius didn't tell them that accepting the offer would spare Marc from being levied.

...

Early in the morning after breakfast, horses around the camp were saddled. Men refilled their waterskins, and clothes and other gear were packed. Everyone, including a number of camp followers, was ready to march. Mules and horse carts laden with supplies were also lined up.

Meanwhile, inside Arryn's household.

"Wear this for the winter," she instructed as she unloaded items from a wooden chest.

"Gratitude." Lansius examined the woolen coat and found it to be in good condition despite its age.

"Lans, take this for good luck," said Marc.

Lansius looked at a small iron medallion resembling a coin with intricate patterns. "Where did you get this?"

"It belonged to Father."

Lansius furrowed his brows. "Are you sure you want to give me this?"

"Yep," Marc said, pulling out his own medallion. "I have a better one, see?"

Lansius grinned.

"Have you packed your mittens and thick gloves?" Arryn interjected.

"Yes, I've packed those already."

"Extra foot wraps for the road?" she inquired.

"Already gave him two," Marc answered.

She nodded. "That should suffice."

Lansius' rucksack was now filled. Next was the shoulder bag, which he packed with packages of dried meat, hard biscuits, a small sack of flour, some raisins, and carrots.

"Here's the waterskin. It's old but still sturdy and not leaky," Marc said as he handed over what was essentially his own gear to Lansius.

"Gratitude, Marc. Let me pay you for this."

"No need, you've already shared enough. I can buy another one later when I need it," said Marc.

After they finished packing, Tanya came in and hugged him. "I was about to make you a hood, Lans, but it's not finished yet. I'm sorry I can't give you anything." Her voice was tinged with regret.

Lifting her, he reassured her, "Don't worry about it. Take care of Mother and Marc for me. I'll come home when I can."

"Hush, you're going to work as a retinue," Arryn corrected him. "Obey your master and don't ask to come home too soon; wait until you've done something worthy. Don't worry about us."

Smiling at her wise advice, Lansius felt grateful. Given the hurried nature of his departure, he had little time to dwell on his emotions. His farewell might have been more emotional and potentially awkward if he had more time.

After saying his goodbyes and sharing warm hugs with everyone, Lansius, with a heavy heart, stepped out the door. His family waved as Lansius shouldered his rucksack and began to walk toward the camp.

The sun was still far on the east and the wind was cool, Bellandia looked amazing around time like this.

As Lansius had expected, a woman in black gambeson waited not far from his house. Stefi approached Lansius and asked, "All set?"

Lansius tapped at his shoulder bag. "Hopefully, it's enough."

"I'll share if you're missing something," Stefi reassured him. She then led him to a section of the camp where her horse was kept. It was already saddled and ready to go; a young servant stood by, waiting.

"Gratitude. Here's a coin."

Upon being paid, the servant darted into the crowd that was preparing to leave, apparently in search of his own master.

"What do you think of Horsie?" Stefi asked.

"She looks gentle, but I don't know anything about horses," he admitted.

Stefi chuckled. "Come on, take the reins, and let's go."

Lansius wasn't sure. "I've never held horse reins before."

"Don't worry, she's docile. Time to get acquainted," Stefi said, smiling.

He gazed at her questioningly. "You're going to train me to ride?"

"There's no reason not to. Just don't pull too hard. Guide her gently."

Lansius did as he was told, and they finally hit the road. It was bustling with a column of people, knights, horse carts, pack mules, and even donkeys, all marching eastward toward their final destination: Riverstead City.

Elven Calendar 4422

In an era marked by rising tensions and escalating raids, Viscount Karius, the formidable Lord of Inglesia, committed the ultimate act of aggression. He crossed the Great River and launched a large-scale attack on the jewel of the Arvena province - the city of Riverstead.

Despite Lord Maurice of Arvena's attempts to fortify the city, even sending his own son to bolster its defenses, the city of Riverstead fell prey to Karius' surprise assault.

The High Lords viewed this as an overt act of hostility and aimed to censure the Lord of Inglesia. However, the Imperium's archaic bureaucracy, slow and unresponsive, sought to label the incident as a minor border squabble among its vassal lords.

This attempt was a bid to preserve a semblance of peace within a realm already besieged by wars, particularly the Western front's ongoing struggle against nomadic incursions.

Unwilling to wait for the slow response of the Imperium, Lord Maurice mustered his forces, marching them to Ceresia on the eve of winter.

One month after leaving Bellandia.

Lansius was suddenly awoken by a chilling gust of wind, causing his body to stiffen and his face to ache from the cold. Blinking, he found himself curled up around a faintly glowing campfire inside an old barn. Despite the fire's warmth, he could see his breath turning into vapor.

"It's still not dawn," Stefi whispered beside him.

Lansius nodded and pulled his rough woolen blanket tighter around himself. The wind outside howled and shook the barn, making it feel even colder. Despite the thick rags and hay mats on the ground, the cold still seeped through.

Only the crackling fire and the friendly faces of his comrades brought any relief. Gradually, Lansius began to drift back to sleep.

Lansius and the Arvena troops had been marching to retake Riverstead for almost a month when they encountered sudden, drastic changes in the weather. No one wanted to be caught in a blizzard, so they scrambled to find winter quarters.

Lansius' group had found refuge in an abandoned barn in Ceresia village, where they had been trapped for over a month. Yet winter was still in full force, with frequent snowfall and blizzards.

Today was another cloudy day, with weak sunlight filtering through the gaps in the wood panels. The early risers were already up and about, preparing breakfast. Nobility and city dwellers didn't typically eat so early in the morning, but on a campaign, it was a necessity. Morning was one of the few times they could cook without much interruption.

Lansius's stomach growled, and he knew the wine and water he drank each night would upset his digestion. Nevertheless, he needed a sip or two to warm up. Just as he was about to sigh, Stefi appeared with a bowl of stew she had received from the cook.

"You're awake?" she asked, offering him the bowl.

"Gratitude," he said, taking the bowl and sipping the warm, savory broth.

Smells burnt just as usual, but the warmth hits the spot.

Lansius took another spoonful, while Stefi gobbled down a thick, round bread. They swapped the bowl for the bread and continued eating.

Stefi didn't bat an eye when they shared the bowl and spoon; partly because she was raised as a squire, but mainly because of practicality.

Most men carried a wooden plate and spoon, but washing them repeatedly in ice-cold water was a daunting task. One trick was to use a heated rock from the fireplace and dunk it in a bucket to warm the water, but even then, nobody wanted to do it repeatedly. Thus, sharing utensils was a common practice. However...

Don't think about it-

But this is the same bowl and spoon...

For better or worse, Lansius hadn't been close to a woman his own age in two years. But now, he and Stefi were practically inseparable. They marched, ate, and slept beside each other every day.

Stefi, despite being younger, was experienced and had taught Lansius the basics of survival during their journey, including what to wear, what to eat, and how to prepare a tent. As they traveled, they inadvertently shared some intimate moments. Once, cleaning and washing resulted in a skinny dip in the stream; another time, two straight days of steady drizzle meant they had to sleep half-naked in the tent.

While Stefi seemed oblivious to the intimacy of their shared experiences, Lansius treasured each memory, vividly etching them onto the canvas of his mind. There had even been a spur-of-the-moment kiss from Stefi, not out of passion, but mischievously.