Chapter 8 : Crossroads

Chapter 8

Crossroads

Lansius

The large glass window on the second floor creaked as Jan heaved it open, and a cold night wind swept in. The young servant then turned to Lansius and whispered as he opened it all the way, “Remember to climb down the bricks. It’s too high to jump.”

Lansius’s heart was already racing. Earlier, Jan had convinced him this was the only way out without being seen by the guards. The municipal office was built almost like a castle and had only one exit.

“Can’t Wade smuggle me out or something?” he asked, his nerves beginning to show.

“He can barely get himself out by bribing a guard,” Jan replied with a hint of frustration. “With you along, it’s just not possible.”

Slowly, Lansius approached the window and was surprised by his disheveled appearance in the incomplete reflection on the glass, but the chilly evening air rushed inside and demanded his attention.

“Which part of the garden is beneath us?” he asked, knowing the soft ground below was his only safety net.

“The one at the far end, near the old tree.”

Lansius hesitated. The darkness below lay still, as if tempting him to jump.

“Master, please be quick, or someone will find out,” Jan urged, as they were on the same floor as the staff’s dormitory.

Lansius turned to Jan. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave with me?”

“Who would feed me if I left? I’m a servant. I was here when the city was taken. They did little harm to me.”

Met with that cold refusal, Lansius took a deep breath, flexed his fingers to test his grip, and began to climb. He braced his hands on the stone window frame and pulled himself up. The night sky came into view, beautiful and terrifying at once. Fear would surely paralyze him if he could measure the height.

“Turn around,” Jan reminded him.

“I know. Just give me a moment.” Lansius turned to face the wall and began to climb down. The earthy scent of moss warned him that the stone surface might be slippery, but he quickly found suitable spots for his hands and feet, securing solid footing.

This isn’t too hard.

The municipal building was nearly ancient, having faced partial destruction and rebuilding several times throughout the centuries. Each time, only its entrance and courtyard received proper repairs, while the other sides remained rough and ill-finished.

“Good luck, Master Lansius," Jan said from the window.

Lansius looked up, but the creaking from the window signaled that Jan had already closed it. With no way back, he took a deep breath and continued his descent. Just two steps down, he couldn’t find secure footing. Some stone bricks jutted out, but they were too slippery.

After a series of failed attempts, he grew frustrated. His hands grew sweaty and raw. He paused on the last good foothold to catch his breath. At one point, he glanced down and saw the silhouette of a tree.

This is only the second floor, right?

An idea came to him. He carefully dropped his bag, hoping the sound of it hitting the ground would tell him how far down it was. However, the leather bag landed too softly to reveal the height. Now out of options, and with his hands already throbbing from the strain, he felt more tempted to jump.

First, he knelt, gripping the last jutting stone brick, and planned to lower his body down. However, he couldn’t hold his weight and quickly lost his grip.

The fall was swift; he landed feet first and fell sideways. Despite the sharp pain in his ankle and back, adrenaline kept the pain at bay. In the darkness, he could see the silhouettes of trees and a line of bushes. He forced himself to run for cover, crouching behind the nearest bushes, and waited.

The building remained silent. Lansius felt relieved and sneaked to find his bag. It took several tries, as only faint starlight illuminated the area.

Once he retrieved it, he quickly left through the narrow path between two buildings. He made several turns and suddenly emerged onto the main street. He looked around to get his bearings.

“Master,” someone called to him from the shadows.

“Wade?” Lansius whispered, and the man urgently motioned for Lansius to come closer.

As Lansius approached, Wade pulled back his hood. He could hardly wait to tell his story. “I came as fast as I could. I struck a hard bargain with the guard. Only a copper to let me through.”

He slipped a small purse into Lansius’s hand. It was the bribe money Lansius had sent through Jan. Rather proudly, Lansius said, “Keep the rest, Wade. You’ve earned it.”

“I knew you’d say that,” Wade said with a grin, pocketing the money. Then he asked, “Are you hurt?”

“Nothing’s broken,” Lansius assured him.

Wade gave a nod. “Then we’d best get you out of the city fast. Things can change very quickly, just like last time.”

“No, wait. Stefi. We need to get her first.”

The older man turned to him. “Where does the squire live?”

Lansius racked his memory before recalling the location, “The old cobbler’s alley.”

“I know the way. Stay close.” Wade looked around, then led on. Not wanting to draw attention, they kept close to the buildings and let the shadows cover them.

The main street was deserted at this hour. As his adrenaline subsided, Lansius felt the pain from his fall in his palms, left ankle, and back. He hoped they were only bruises and nothing serious.

Riverstead was almost pitch-black, save for a few establishments like the tavern that maintained lit lanterns in their front yards. As they walked, they came across a glowing orb that illuminated a large area.

The source of the orb was a giant glass lantern, adorned with a statue of a grotesque, giant lizard, marking an intersection.

Wade approached the low-hanging lantern and opened its small metallic window. The city had placed it there for wayfarers to light their lanterns if they went out.

Carefully, Wade pulled a candle from his lantern and lit it. Then he led Lansius into a dark, winding alleyway. After so many twists and turns, Lansius wasn’t sure of where they were. The area was notoriously challenging to navigate, even at noon. Wade had to stop and study the building signs several times to make sure he wasn’t lost. Then, he stopped.

“This is it, the old cobbler’s alley,” Wade remarked.

Lansius took the lantern from Wade. As they walked farther down, he noticed a row of similarly sized buildings and quickened his pace. With Wade following, they arrived at one of the houses, and Lansius began knocking on the door.

“Stefi! Stephania!” he called repeatedly while continuing to knock.

After a while, Wade stopped him and tried to push the door several times.

“Master, it’s locked but not barred,” Wade said.

“She isn’t inside?” Lansius was horrified and surveyed the area. He was confident that this was the house.

Meanwhile, Wade examined the ground with his lantern and discovered footprints. “She’s not here. Someone must’ve called her.”

Lansius inspected the footprints in the muddy ground, kneeling to get a better look. There were indeed footprints, but he couldn’t tell if they were fresh.

“We have to go,” Wade urged. “She’s most likely called to arms.”

Lansius hesitated, but Wade pulled on his arm. As if pursued by ghosts, Wade led Lansius through the dark maze until they finally returned to the junction.

The grotesque lizard guarding the giant orb lantern greeted them again. Only then did they notice the roads growing livelier, with carriages now appearing.

As they neared the south gate, torches and lanterns, illuminated the numerous horse-drawn carriages and carts. Most of the occupants were armed, with some even accompanied by cavalrymen.

A palpable sense of fear and anxiety permeated the atmosphere.

...

No city guard would take a clerk and his assistant seriously, but Lansius had no option. As they passed various carts and carriages, those inside eyed them nervously, their panic evident in the haphazard loading of their carriages.

It was unprecedented for a city to face another siege in such a short time. Everyone here had likely received a tip and was attempting to flee the impending siege. As Lansius drew closer, he overheard a heated exchange between the crowd and the guards.

“No men of arms are to leave the city,” a man hoarsely argued with the crowd.

“I assure you, these are only my master’s private household guards,” someone in the crowd responded.

“We know you let a dozen carriages leave just moments ago,” another accused, and the bickering persisted.

Judging by their elegant coats and fine garments, it was clear that the crowd came from a wealthy background.

Suddenly, a low horn sounded in the distance, followed by faint cries and shouts carried on the wind. The crowd froze, straining their ears to better identify the sounds.

As if confirming their fears, more windows lit up as the dwellers awoke from their slumber, alarmed by the same sound.

“We’re under attack!” someone yelled in a panic. Men from the carriages surged toward the city guards at the gates, demanding they be opened. Overwhelmed, the captain finally relented, especially after learning that the danger approached from the north, while the southern approach appeared clear.

With a groan of iron and wood, the massive city gates began to swing inward. People hastily prepared their carts and carriages for departure.

The clinking of heavy chains signaled that the drawbridge was being lowered. When it finally settled, it revealed a path leading to a stone bridge and beyond, all shrouded in darkness.

Another low horn resounded from the north, stirring more residents from their sleep. People spilled into the streets, confused and fearful.

Three horsemen headed to the gate, carrying brass lanterns that barely lit the road ahead. They were leading a carriage out of the city, and others quickly fell in line behind them.

Before he knew it, Lansius found himself caught in the current of the crowd. Nervously, he glanced to the side and noticed that Wade had stayed behind. “Wade!” he called out.

“Take care, Master Lans.” Wade waved back from the edge of the crowd.

Lansius was aghast. “You’re not coming?”

“I can’t. My woman and friends are here,” Wade replied, stepping back from the fray. “Riverstead is home. No matter who rules it, they’ll still need a warehouse worker like me.”

Wade’s expression was one of grim resolve. He had survived two sieges already; there was no guarantee he’d survive a third. Yet he knew little about the world beyond Riverstead’s walls.

The crowd pushed Lansius forward, moving in one direction: out. The guards were keen to clear the area as quickly as possible so they could reseal the gates for the coming siege. Walking with the crowd, Lansius could see the faces of tired, nervous men all around him, illuminated by handheld lanterns.

The throng approached the drawbridge, and the cacophony of carriages, horses, and escorts filled the air. Soon, they passed under the grand arches of the city gate, leaving only the open night sky above.

Before long, they crossed the wooden drawbridge, then the stone bridge, and reached the open road. The walls of Riverstead now lay behind them, and an open field stretched out in front. And so, the crowd marched, intent on putting as much distance as possible between themselves and the soon-to-be besieged city.

Lansius stood alone near the stone bridge, still hesitating to leave the city and Stefi behind. He was contemplating running back when the echo of the gates closing reached his ears. Soon, the gates were shut, and the drawbridge was drawn up again after the last horse-drawn cart had cleared its way.

Now, there was no more going back. The guards certainly wouldn’t lower the drawbridge for him.

“Out of the way!” the last cart’s coachman shouted at Lansius.

Feeling that his chances were bleak, Lansius shouted back as the cart slowed down at the edge of the bridge. “I have some money. Can you give me a lift?”

The horse and cart sped up, ignoring Lansius’s plight. Lansius sighed, feeling foolish, and jogged to catch up with the crowd.

Amid the chaos, someone called out from ahead. “Hey, you.”

Lansius turned and saw a horse-drawn cart waiting, the coachman perched at the front and several figures seated inside. With nothing to lose, he hurried toward them, breathless.

As he drew near, one of the figures in the cart uncovered a lantern, casting a faint glow.

“Ha, I know you,” said the coachman.

“Huh?” Lansius still could not make out the man’s face.

“To think I met you out here,” the coachman muttered, grabbing Lansius’s hand. He then called out, “Theo, help us.”

The two helped Lansius into the back of the cart, where he landed between wooden crates.

“I’m Theo, and this big fellow here is Max.” The youth merrily gestured to another boy.

Max groaned, wiped his blurry, sleepy eyes, and waved a little to Lansius.

“You said you know me?” Lansius directed the question at the coachman in front.

“Oi, it’s Thomas. Don’t tell me you forgot about me already.” He removed his hood, revealing his bearded face.

“Thomas!” Lansius couldn’t believe his eyes.

The old man smirked and hurriedly urged the horses on. The cart began to pick up speed. Lansius noticed a figure in a traveling cloak seated beside Thomas, and the sight at once made him think of Stefi.

“Did you happen to see Stefi?” Lansius asked.

“The squire?” the older man asked without looking back.

“Yes. We traveled together from Ceresia, remember?”

“For her own safety, I hope she’s in one of the carriages,” Thomas replied bluntly.

Lansius exhaled bitterly as his hope faded. After a while, he asked, “What will happen to the city?”

“Another siege,” replied the figure beside Thomas, her somber tone carrying the weight of experience.

“Can the city hold out?” Lansius asked.

“No one knows, but Riverstead has never withstood a siege,” said Thomas.

His words left Lansius feeling dejected.

“Try to make peace with it. I need you to stay alert,” Thomas urged.

Lansius was alarmed. “Are we not safe here?”

“Sieges are always bad, whether you’re inside or outside,” Thomas cautioned.

“The horsemen may chase us for supplies and hostages,” the boy Theo added, likely speaking from experience.

The cart became bumpier as the horses picked up speed. Riding in the dark, even with lanterns and torches, was dangerous, but everyone would rather risk it than be captured.

The sound of cracking whips filled the air as the coachmen urged their hesitant horses to run despite the darkness.

Lansius felt a crushing sense of loss as he kept his eyes fixed on the receding city. All he had wanted was a good job and a chance to improve his station in life. And now everything seemed lost.

Stefi, Jan, Wade, please stay safe . . .

As the dispersed crowd and convoy moved further away, the glimmering lights north of the city became increasingly numerous and distinct. At first, Lansius mistook them for an eerie reflection of the night sky. But soon, the unsettling truth dawned on them: those weren’t stars.

They were the glowing hearths of countless fires, illuminating a sprawling enemy encampment. The sheer size of the camp, visible even from a distance, suggested an army not in the hundreds, but likely in the thousands.

The realization that the defeated army—believed to be on its last legs—now appeared more formidable than ever sent a chill through the convoy. A palpable sense of fear and hopelessness settled over them as they left Riverstead to its fate.

***

The State of the War, Spring 4423

Last year, unwilling to wait for the Imperium’s response, Lord Maurice mustered his forces and marched them to Ceresia on the eve of winter. There, he waited and launched a daring winter attack, which took Karius’s men by surprise and turned the tides of war.

Lord Karius of Inglesia was swiftly dislodged from Riverstead and forced to flee, with Lord Maurice’s men hot on their heels. However, even with the arrival of spring, the tensions remained unresolved. Lord Karius stubbornly resisted all offers of truce, seemingly engaging in negotiations merely to buy time.

Out of caution, Lord Maurice secured a fortress to guard against any reinforcements. Despite this precaution, no one suspected that an alliance had formed between Lord Karius and Margrave Gottfried.

The formidable margrave, ruler of four northern Brigandia provinces, had previously clashed with Karius, making their sudden alliance a surprise. The specifics of their agreement were unclear, yet one thing was certain: Karius had set a trap for Maurice.

He had lured Maurice out of Riverstead, giving Gottfried and his formidable army the chance to cross the Great River and launch a devastating attack on the city. The situation rapidly escalated into a crisis for Maurice and his men, whose escape route was effectively cut off.

Now even Maurice’s heir, the young Lord Arte, was trapped in Riverstead with only a small garrison to defend it. To the Arvenians, hope seemed to be slipping away.

***

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