LRAB Chapter 213: Eyes on Arvena
Chapter 213: Eyes on Arvena
Chapter 213: Eyes on Arvena
Eyes on Arvena
Arvena
Sir Justin, the knight, mercenary, horse dealer, and occasional smuggler approached the mule cart with a guardsman at his side. He walked with a relaxed gait and a carefree, wandering tune on his lips, unfazed by the commotion. The troops straightened as he arrived.
He eyed the Eastern Kingdom trio before turning to the guardsman. "Assemble a counter party of thirty men, and make sure they keep an eye on the path leading here."
"Yes, Sir." The guardsman strode off purposefully to gather the ambush team.
Sir Justin alone approached the three men, who had dismounted and now were surrounded by a dozen guards. The soldiers kept their weapons ready, the tension thick in the air.
"Welcome to our humble village. May I ask to whom I owe this visit?" Sir Justin as the host greeted with forced enthusiasm.
"We’re from the Eastern Kingdom and we’re here to help," an older man of the three replied. His accent was undoubtedly foreign.
"There must be some misunderstanding," Sir Justin said, prying. "Helping whom, and in what matter?"
Two of the three exchanged glances before the younger man stepped forward. "Helping the son of Lord Maurice of Arvena kill King Gottfried’s firstborn."
Sir Justin blinked at the blunt answer, half amused by its crudeness. There was no more pretense. "And why would you risk treason and spark a war between kingdoms?"
"Our employer believes a powerful King Gottfried would not be in their best interest."
"And who is your employer?" the knight asked not expecting an answer.
"The person asked not to be named for obvious reasons."
"Yet you merrily stated along the way that you're from the Eastern Kingdom. Is there any truth to that?" he asked, his amusement masking suspicion.
The two men smirked. Meanwhile, the third man, judging by his muted reaction, was likely deaf or at least impaired.
Sir Justin nodded, understanding it was likely a ruse to blame the Eastern Kingdom. "Funny that you got the accent right."
"We are from the Eastern Kingdom. That much isn’t a lie," the older man said calmly.
"Still," Sir Justin shrugged. "You’re asking me to trust strangers who arrive in the middle of a war, bringing nothing but bold words and vague promises. Even with fancy weapons, three men hardly tip the scales in a fight. I’d rather kill you now than risk exposing my secrets."
The youngest raised his hands in calm defiance. "Sir, we expected doubt," he said, his voice steady. "We carry state-of-the-art weapons from the Eastern Kingdom."
Sir Justin wasn't impressed, forcing the young man to gesture to the bundled items on the mule cart. "A weapon fit for a king. Let us prove their worth," he declared.
With a mocking grin, Sir Justin cast a glance at his men, doubt etched on their faces. Then, he turned back to the strangers, noting their raw confidence. "Gentlemen, isn’t your confidence a bit misplaced? If it’s just weapons, we can kill you and use them ourselves."
"It took years to master, and I believe you’ll find our accuracy invaluable," the older man replied.
Their composure unsettled Sir Justin again. They reminded him of the Black Lord, whose calm demeanor often preceded unthinkable plans or inventions. Since refusing would be foolish, he gave a curt nod. "Fine. But we’re not doing this here."
"Get them to a clearing behind us," Sir Justin added to his men.
"A moment," the older man said. "The weapon is powerful enough to kill horses. If you happen to have any ailing or wounded ones..." He left the rest unsaid.
"Yes, I happen to have one." Sir Justin instructed his men to bring forward the dying horse. They returned with a gaunt, wheezing beast, its ribs jutting through its coat. Injured in the last raid, it staggered, refusing to be guided.
The troops wasted no time escorting the three strangers from the hideout to a clearing. Swords unsheathed and spears leveled, they watched closely as the men unloaded their wares for the demonstration.
Sir Justin’s eyes swept the area before tying the horse to a tree. Its rider gently patted the animal, whispering farewells. The beast struggled to sit, its labored breaths signaling the end was near.
"If you can’t do this quickly and cleanly, let me know now. We’re not gentle with men who make animals suffer," Sir Justin warned.
"Rest assured, Sir, we’ll show you exactly what this weapon can do," the older man answered.
The trio moved swiftly. One unwrapped a long-barreled object, its engravings gleaming like bronze in the fading light. It looked alien compared to the swords and spears the guards carried.
"Was expecting a magic sword or a Dwarven weapon," Sir Justin commented.
"You’ll find this no less fascinating, Sir," the old man replied as his younger companion began loading it. "They call it a bronze snake, or colubrīnus."
The deaf man, the strongest of the three, held the heavy bronze cylinder at an angle while the younger poured coarse gray powder into the barrel. A paper wad followed, tamped down with a ramrod, then a single smooth metal ball, carefully pushed in with what seemed to be a circular motion before adding another wad to compact the charge.
"Is it always this slow to prepare?" Sir Justin asked.
"Only this one, for accuracy. We have faster ones," the older man replied.
Sir Justin nodded patiently.
"Ah, they’re ready," the old man reported merrily. "Can we move further back to demonstrate our accuracy?"
Sir Justin noticed his crossbowmen and riders frowning. One raised his voice, "This is a good forty steps away. You’ll have a hard time hitting the poor creature’s head."
Another of his men added, "Do not play with us."
"Gentlemen," the old man replied calmly, "we mean no disrespect. But we need proper range for demonstration."
The knight studied the trio carefully but found no sign of deception or unease. "Fine. Take your distance." Then, to his men, he said, "At least the beast won’t see it coming."
They walked more than twice the previous distance before the young man set up a sturdy wooden pole with an iron fork at the top. The deft man, muscles straining under the weight, single-handedly carried the heavy bronze cylinder. With effort, he maneuvered it into place, resting it securely on the fork. A simple latch mechanism secured it, allowing the stake to support the full weight and enabling it to swivel.
Once it was in place, the younger man adjusted his aim with ease. Meanwhile, the deft man struck flints to light a smoldering cord.
"In an ambush, you count the paces from place to place. It is necessary for accuracy," the old man remarked to Sir Justin, speaking like a merchant peddling his wares.
The knight noticed the young man peering through finely crafted sights, not unlike those Lord Lansius had on his crossbow, now standard among the SAR team.
"This weapon is based on the ocean vessel's fire weapons. We have known larger versions for centuries, but they were difficult, unreliable, and fell out of favor until we improved their reliability. This is the portable version."
Sir Justin stroked his chin. Despite being called portable, it looked as heavy as a barrel of ale and longer than a spear.
"We’re ready," the young man said calmly, his eyes fixed on the sight.
"Sir, warn your men. It will be loud."
"You heard him," Sir Justin said. Yet his men only closed their ears after seeing the old man cover his and the deaf man shield the young man’s.
So that's his function. Sir Justin thought as he observed the deaf man.
Without waiting for further permission, the young man touched the burning cord to the priming hole. At first, nothing happened. Then, the blast erupted.
The guards flinched, some stepping back as the ear-shattering roar filled the clearing. Smoke churned from the barrel like the breath of a mythical beast, so thick they had trouble seeing through it.
"Stay calm!" Justin barked, his voice cutting through the haze.
The old man gestured toward the horse. "Shall we?"
Justin motioned them forward. They walked in tense silence. The horse lay still, as if asleep, except for the bloody hole in the side of its head and the pool of blood beneath it.
"No quicker death than that," the younger man said proudly, and no one argued.
Sir Justin stood in silence, his eyes lingering on the carcass before shifting to the older man. "What did you say its name was?"
"Colubrīnus or coulevrine, but I simply call it culverin," the man replied with a big smile.
Sir Justin wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulder and led him away, further from the crowd. "Say, regardless of Lord Arte’s acceptance or rejection of your service, may I interest you in another profitable endeavor?"
"You have my ears, Sir," the man said, though his nod came slower this time. His fingers brushed over his coat, as if considering his options.
"I know a lord, a powerful one, who might be interested in this kind of advanced fire weapon. I could introduce you to him, for a share of your profit."
The merchant shifted his weight. "That is... a generous offer," he replied quickly, masking his reluctance, knowing that his services were beyond the means of mere barons and viscounts. "It’s only good business."
The two chuckled, though one with more certainty than the other. The man from the East Kingdom aimed to please and not to offend so he could fulfill his mission. Meanwhile, Justin was already considering whether it was wise or even possible to bring the trio all the way to Korelia, so far to the south.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Meanwhile, Audrey found it amusing. "Ingrid and Sir Morton actually said that’s what makes me dangerous since mages would have a hard time detecting that I'm a mage."
"It’s a great talent," Valerie said. "No wonder even I couldn’t sense it the first time we met in Toruna."
Audrey exchanged glances with Lansius, who gave a subtle nod. Deep down, they felt grateful for this revelation. It reassured them that Valerie wasn’t hiding anything. From the looks of it, she had no deep ties to Bengrieve, and they could secure her away from him.
***
Lord Arte
It was nighttime after a long day of discussion and debate about how to utilize the three Eastern Kingdoms’ men and their wonder weapons. After further demonstrations, there was no longer any notion of rejecting their help. They needed the weapon, as it was as accurate as it was powerful. Its precision and lethality surpassed even the windlass or heavy arbalest.
While cumbersome and slow, it would be perfect for an ambush. Ideally, it needed to be set somewhere high, offering a good vantage point while remaining concealed. They had no such positions but would make do with the forest terrain. Their advantage was that the Crown Prince had yet to know about the weapon.
Though they had agreed to accept the help, lingering questions remained. Who had actually sent them? There were several candidates. The Mercantile Kingdom’s nobles were a possibility, King Gottfried’s rivals within his court, or perhaps even the Second Prince, who had quarreled with the Crown Prince. Whoever it was, Arte would take the chance.
After locking the door and window of his chamber, with his squire and guard waiting outside, Arte slipped into bed. He took an earring from his inner breast pocket and wore it.
He heard nothing, and that was to be expected. He waited patiently, and just before sleep overtook him, he felt someone appear on the other end, and their souls collided.
"Love, is that you?" a familiar female voice echoed like a dream.
Who else? Arte asked tenderly.
"I missed you so." Felis’ feelings could be felt through the dwarven relic.
How are you in there?
"I’m fine, but how’s your end? Does Thomas still want to send a rescue team?"
No, just today I convinced him not to.
"Did he believe you?" Her concern flashed toward him.
Arte smirked. I’m always good at lying.
"Oh, you." Felis giggled, her warmth reaching him directly.
Have you eaten? How’s the food over there? He changed the topic.
"Bland but nutritious. At least the baby inside me is well-fed."
I’m glad to hear it. Do they treat you harshly?
"No. I’m only the wife of a minor lord, so they leave me alone, mostly."
Minor Lord, huh? Arte thought amused.
Felis chuckled. "The only hard thing is using the earrings without them knowing. But I found a way. When they’re chanting, their magic disturbs their own senses."
Sounds risky...
"Not really. These Sisters and Saint Candidates chant a lot," she reassured him, then added, "Say, did you know that Midlandia’s civil war is over?"
Huh? So quickly? That’s good, then. Who’s the victor? Can we get support? Arte’s excitement rose at the good news.
"Slowly, dear. But you’re going to love this."
Arte squinted. How come?
"The winner of the civil war is..." Felis paused, teasing.
Don’t tease me. I’m already longing for your thighs and breasts.
Felis’ playful thought came through the earring. "You should pick a concubine—or maybe a handsome pageboy."
No. Nobody understands my needs better than you.
"Oh, you." Her warmth was unmistakable.
So who’s the victor?
"The victor is someone we know."
Someone we know? He echoed, thinking hard.
"His name is Lord Lansius of Korelia." Her tone carried a hint of infectious merriment.
There was a gasp, followed by a long silence. Arte couldn’t believe the news. I don’t believe you’re jesting. But... how?
"It’s a long story, love. I only heard parts of it from maids and servants, but you should know we have a strong ally on our side now."
Indeed. Are you able to send a message out?
"Soon. I should be able to convince someone to do it for me," Felis said confidently. "With him in power, I won’t need to hide in this monastery anymore, begging for reinforcements."
Yes. If it’s him, I wouldn’t fear the entire might of Gottfried’s northern men. Arte felt courageous all of a sudden.
Felis giggled on the other end. "It’s so good to hear your excitement after so long. Then you should wait for my word."
But love, we can't just ask. I know Lansius is a tender man, but we still need to bring the greatest gift to honor his victory. And I'm afraid I have none to spare. If only I could return home to Alba Castle.
"No worries, love. I’m a resourceful wife," Felis praised herself. "And I have tactically acquired some gifts while I’m here."
Tactically acquired? Arte chuckled. Where did you learn such words?
She smiled. "Better than stealing. I don’t want our baby to hear badly about me."
Borrowed is a better word, love.
"Indeed. I’ve borrowed several items that I’m sure Lansius will appreciate. Oh, let me show you one. I’ve been dying to try this one."
What is it? Arte asked, but suddenly the connection was lost.
Felis...?
There was no answer at first, only a strange sensation, like plunging into water. A subtle shift in fidelity followed.
"Can you hear me?" Felis asked from the other end.
I can, but what did you do? Arte’s curiosity mixed with concern.
"So, I found another earring. A different one. I’m not sure if it’s newer or older, but I think this will make a suitable gift."
Another dwarven earring...? What a remarkable find. Love, you really are fortunate.
Felis smirked on the other end. "The owner, a Sister, received it from a patron. She recognized it was magical and managed to maintain it, but didn’t know its purpose. She didn’t have the other pair, so I traded it for several pieces of gold."
That’s still a good trade for such a valuable relic. I’m glad I gave you gold for bribes. But then, if you give it to Lansius, who will he talk to?
"Are you jealous that Lansius might end up talking to me?" Felis teased.
Arte hesitated, his feelings slipping through the earring.
Felis giggled and added, "Jealous, are you?"
It’s a reasonable fear. He admitted boldly, without hesitation or pretense. By acquiring even part of Midlandia, Lansius is currently the most powerful lord and the wealthiest in this part of the Imperium. He’ll only become more popular.
Felis giggled. "You shouldn’t worry. I wouldn’t dare to cross Audrey. She can be scary, and I doubt I’ll ever find someone who completes me like you."
Arte felt her warmth and was reassured. Somehow, Felicity’s fortune had blessed her with the discovery of another powerful relic. Only time would tell if Lord Lansius would see it as a priceless tool, worth many times its weight in gold, or merely a treasure to be collected. Yet Arte couldn’t shake the fear that, in Lansius’ hands, this ancient relic might soon find its place on the battlefield.
***