CHAPTER 280: BANNERETUS

Banneretus

Camp Commander Karl

The morning sun bathed the city in a pale glow as Karl, the newly made armiger now serving as Captain, made his way to one of the upper residences. His footsteps echoed crisply on the fine cobbled stone, the sound carrying against the plastered walls that framed the clean, orderly street. At the gate, two Nicopolan-born men in rich blue brigandine stood guard, their halberds upright and eyes sharp despite the calm hour. They recognized him and saluted as Karl approached with his assistant in tow.

“Captain,” they greeted him first, calmly.

“Is this Dame Daniella’s place?” Karl asked, noting the guard’s Nicopolan blood and accent.

“Yes, you are correct,” the guard answered.

Karl nodded in acknowledgment. “Is she inside?”

“She is.” Understanding Karl’s intent to enter, the guard quickly opened the door.

“Excuse us,” Karl announced as he stepped into the courtyard.

“Who is it?” came a lovely voice from the garden nearby.

The feminine tone startled Karl; he had expected a squire or servant to answer. “I am Karl,” he explained, “wishing to visit Dame Daniella.”

“Oh,” came the sweet reply. “Just a moment.”

“Is that your voice, Dame?” Karl asked. Without waiting for a response, he motioned for his aide to stay back and approached alone.

There, half-hidden behind a wall of decorative plants in the garden, Daniella lay on a wooden daybed, basking in the sun. Her simple tunic was damp with sweat. Both of her legs were still bandaged, one at the ankle and one at the knee. A pair of wooden crutches rested beside her, along with her sleek Nicopolan sword, the espada ropera, sheathed at her side.

As she tried to push herself upright, Karl immediately stepped forward to help.

“I am sorry, I did not expect visitors,” she said, sweat trickling down her chin.

“It is not your fault. Please,” Karl said as he steadied her on the daybed. “Can you move about?”

“It is still stiff, but at least it is not a broken bone,” she said, now sitting upright. The warmth of the sun lay over them.

“Where is your squire or maid?” Karl asked, glancing around and finding no one.

“I sent the squire to a mentor. I wanted him to learn higher calculations to help me with work. As for the maid, she is still sleeping off a fever from the change in weather. I let her rest. There is nothing for her to do but wait on me anyway.”

Karl, still standing, stroked his chin. “But why are you in the sun?”

Daniella snorted softly, expecting the question. “The Lord visited me and told me to sit in the sun. He says it helps with recovery. So I did, and it feels quite relaxing,” she replied with a carefree smile.

She rarely showed that side while on duty, so Karl, who had never known her this well, was a little taken aback. Not wishing for the moment to grow awkward, he said, “I visited the infirmary when I returned from my mission, but they said you had already been moved. Work and reports kept piling up, so it took me a while to search for your residence.”

“Of course, work takes priority,” she reassured him. “And I am fine, so gratitude for taking the time to visit. Oh, I heard you won big.”

Karl smirked proudly and stood straighter. “Yes, I managed.”

“Managed? How humble of you,” she said, stifling a giggle. “But the administration liked it. You are compatible, that much is clear.”

His eyes narrowed with curiosity. “I am not following.”

“They said the Lord prefers men like you,” she explained. “One who does not boast of his achievements.”

Karl frowned, uncertain. “Really?”

“Yes,” she confirmed warmly. “The Lord already knows their merits from the records and diligently compares and scrutinizes them closely. He dislikes those who exaggerate their achievements, especially the ones who take credit for another’s work.”

Karl nodded, heartened. “I am glad to hear it. It is always a problem in the world, men who do the labor getting no respect, only for others to take the credit.”

“Indeed,” Daniella agreed.

Karl nodded, satisfied. Then, noticing her empty cup, he said, “You look as if you could use a drink. I shall fetch it for you.”

“You do not need to. Better you get yourself a drink.”

“After you, my Dame,” he replied, and wandered inside.

Daniella smiled and could not resist teasing him. “You would make a lovely partner for a lady, Karl.”

“Oh, you should hear me play the gittern.”

She chuckled. “Why not try joining the Orange Skalds, if you are so talented?”

“I am not good with shadowy work,” he said, his voice fading, likely as he descended toward the cellar.

“A man of light,” she murmured before Karl returned with another cup and a jar of cooled water. He poured, and they both drank the refreshing coolness.

“This tastes boiled,” Karl commented.

“Indeed, the Lady’s order,” she replied.

“Every man, page, squire, and officer must drink plenty of boiled water,” he recited, the order applying to him as well.

Both chuckled. Daniella then used a small cloth to cover her mouth, remembering she had lost a tooth from the fall in the ambush.

“I saw there are plenty of fruits, jars of wine, even a block of hard cheese. You have a stream of visitors, I reckon?”

She could not help but grin, again lifting the cloth to cover her mouth. “Yes, there are several, including the Lord, but the most frequent is Sir Omin.”

“Sir Omin? That is unexpected,” Karl replied, having thought most of her visitors would be suitors.

“Yes, it is just work. He has plenty of it. But I am glad he comes, because it keeps the suitors off me.”

“I see,” Karl said, stroking his chin.

“Poor man,” she commented. “Without me, he is carrying much of the work with the Shogunate Bank.”

“He will manage,” Karl said confidently. “He is probably second only to our Lord in terms of intellect.”

“He has a helper now,” she replied, and then their eyes met. “What do you think of Sir Reginald?”

“Ah, yes, he is also capable,” said Karl, who was Midlandian-born. “Not that I know him well, since I am mostly uneducated.”

“That’s not true,” she argued, then teased, “I know your records. You were still an esquire and went to the commoners’ school.”

Karl laughed. “Why take such interest in me?”

“You’ve risen through the ranks. Of course I’m interested. You might soon borrow from the bank."

“Me, borrow money?” he chuckled at the idea. “For what?”

“Buying land and building a manor?”

Her words gave him pause.

She frowned. “Don’t tell me you never think of settling down and starting a family.”

“I must admit, I rather like life in the camp,” he replied, a little embarrassed.

Daniella snorted. She tried to hide her smile behind a cloth but failed. Karl found it funny as well, and the two of them broke into laughter.

Afterward, while she was still catching her breath, he said, “Dame, you should smile more. It’s good for morale.”

“Oh, you tease,” she said, then in a steadier tone, “Sadly, I cannot. You know I lost a tooth, and it will take a year or so before it grows back.”

Karl exhaled softly. “It is only on the far side and does not look too bad. Many would still marry you.”

She glanced at him. “You sound like one of my suitors.”

“Then he spoke the truth,” he said, undeterred.

She did not reply but looked faintly embarrassed. “Oh, let’s not talk about me. What about you?”

“Me?” he asked, then realizing the subject, added, “No fair woman wants me.”

“Lies,” she replied in a heartbeat.

He chuckled and was about to answer when someone entered the residence.

Karl’s attendant called, “Captain, we have a visitor.”

“Forgive the interruption,” came a voice from the courtyard, steady with authority. “Dame, it is Sir Omin. May I enter?”

“Sir Omin, I am in the garden. Captain Karl is with me,” Dame Daniella replied.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Sir Omin said again as he stepped into view. He wore a green doublet and a black soft beret, decorated with gold and a feather, which was becoming more common than the traditional chaperon. His eyes were sunken and weary, the mark of a man long used to late hours and heavy work.

“Glad to have you here, Sir,” Karl said with a nod.

“Well met. This matter concerns you also,” Sir Omin replied. “Dame Daniella, and you, Captain, are needed at the castle.”

Karl quickly protested, “But, Sir, she can scarcely walk.”

Stolen story; please report.

“The Lord has sent for a litter,” Sir Omin answered.

At his words, attendants appeared carrying a covered litter of light wood, its frame draped in cloth and mounted on long poles. Two men bore it with padded harnesses across their shoulders. It was the sort often used by nobles, both to shield them from the weather and to carry them in dignity.

“May I ask what the occasion is for the summons?” Dame Daniella said.

Sir Omin met her gaze but shook his head. He did not know the intention. “However, I believe we still have some time. If you need to prepare, by all means.”

***

Lansius

It was mid-afternoon. The Great Hall, usually alive with preparations before supper, lay quiet. Lansius had called for a discussion with his staff, so all work was postponed. The doors were shut, and servants and maids were barred from entering by trusted guards.

On the right side, Sir Omin, Sir Michael, Sir Sterling, and Captain Karl stood facing Lansius and Audrey in their seats. Francisca stood nearby, her back against the wall beside the captain of the guard. Between them, the senior scribe occupied his desk, quill in hand. On the left side were Ingrid the Chamberlain, Claire, and Dame Daniella, who had come by litter and now sat upon a cushioned chair.

Ocelot, Carla, and Margo were also in attendance, though they kept to the rear.

Lansius seldom gathered them all together, so understandably, the air was rather tense. “You may be wondering why I called you all here today. Rest assured, it is not a crisis, but a gentler subject.”

His words drew curious looks from the staff, and he felt the weight in the hall ease.

“The matter I wish to discuss is compensation,” Lansius continued. “For a long time, because of my status as a baron, I have not been able to reward my staff as I wished. I am sure you feel the same?” His eyes turned to Sir Omin.

"My Lord is wise,” Sir Omin replied. “As you said, with this current arrangement, you cannot even raise a loyal retainer to the rank of baronet, only to knighthood.”

The mention of baronet sparked low gasps and murmurs among the staff. Even Francisca exchanged glances with Ocelot at the back. They all knew that while a local baron could dub a knight, only a king could create a baronet. Many wondered if Lansius would now speak of a claim to kingship.

“My Lord,” Ingrid said as she stepped forward. “Forgive me if I jump to conclusions, but there are still many subjects in Midlandia and beyond who hold the Imperium in esteem.”

“I can second that,” Karl said, also stepping forward under everyone’s gaze. “While I feel no attachment and would even celebrate your rise, still—”

“It's still too much, correct?” Lansius smirked.

“What I mean to say is that it would be best to err on the side of caution," Karl finished and bowed his head.

Lansius turned his gaze to the charming one-eyed knight. “How about you, Sir Michael?”

“I am Lowlandian. The Imperium is nothing more than a distant voice demanding taxes while giving nothing in return. Yet I have a concern. What will you do with the Shogunate? A monarchy does not necessarily align with its principles.”

“I assure you, I have no plan to claim kingship." Lansius' words quickly stirred murmurs among the staff.

“Then how would you proceed with this matter?” Sir Michael asked.

Lansius answered, “I believe the issue at heart is a matter of reward and prestige."

“Then how would you reward your loyal retainer without making them a baronet?” Sir Omin asked, then with a frown added, “Unless you are thinking about a land grant...”

“And what is the problem with a land grant?” Lansius asked, curious to test his staff’s thinking.

The men exchanged glances, but none could put voice to the deeper issue.

“He speaks the truth,” Audrey said from the side, her voice calm and open. “Without titles, it does not sit right.”

“Correct,” Lansius agreed. “Dare I say the true issue is not land, nor responsibility, but the measure of wealth that comes with a title.”

Audrey considered his words, as did the rest of the staff.

Lansius let them think before clarifying, “What is most important is not always the ownership of land, but the hierarchy and prestige reflected in a title.”

Sir Michael nodded, as did Dame Daniella. But Sir Omin asked, “Then, without giving the title of baronet, how would you proceed?”

“What is a title?” Lansius asked. “Isn’t it just an abstract construct?”

Half the staff frowned, while the rest exchanged looks among themselves.

“Last spring, nobody in Midlandia knew of the Shogunate. Yet now, everyone knows the title of Lord Shogun,” Lansius gave an example.

Everyone seemed to nod, even Sir Omin.

“What matters is not the name of the title, but the prestige, honor, and wealth that come with it, correct?”

“A completely new title then?” Sir Michael muttered.

“The scribe and I were thinking about Banneret,” Lansius remarked, turning to his scribe.

The old man felt the staff’s eyes upon him and explained, “It is an old word, once known as banneretus. Long ago, in the age of the heroes of the Second Empire, there were many contests held to recruit champions against the beastmen. All the victors were dubbed knights. With so many new knights, the landed nobility found it beneath their dignity to be seen as equals. Thus, the Emperor of that time created the rank of Banneret, a station above the common knight, marked by a banner that only a noble could carry.”

The staff nodded and turned toward Sir Omin. “But was it not true that only a monarch could grant this title?” he asked.

The old scribe inclined his head. “Indeed. But that was the policy of the Second Empire. The Third makes no mention of it.”

“Then legally, it is free to use,” Sir Michael remarked.

Sir Omin gave a slow nod and said no more.

“As you can see,” Lansius began anew, “I am trying to find a way to reward good people without causing trouble with the Imperium.”

“It is a wise move, My Lord,” Ingrid remarked.

“Why is that?” Claire, the young Lowlandian, blurted out. The sudden attention made her uneasy, and she quickly clarified, “I mean, I thought the Imperium was no more, or am I mistaken?”

The hallmark of Lansius’ council was that anyone could voice such questions without fear of scorn.

“It is because, to Midlandians and many others, the Imperium is more than just a name,” Karl explained. “It is everything, and we hold its code and traditions in deep respect.”

“More than that,” Lansius added, “if I start naming myself an Earl and granting Baron or Viscount titles, then every existing Earl, Baron, and Viscount will feel slighted.”

The hall filled with low murmurs, for they were well aware that even a mere claim to the rank of Viscount could set Lansius at odds with other lords.

“I am sure you agree that we do not need another set of problems,” Lansius quipped.

The men and women chuckled at that, the tension in the hall easing.

“However, there is a caveat,” Lansius continued, glancing left and right at his staff. “I will be using an enfeoffment model that harks back to my birthplace, adapted to fit the Shogunate."

They listened with keen attention.

He continued, “The banneret title will be granted along with inherited stipends from the land, but the holder will have no duty to rule or administer it.”

“Then,” Sir Omin paused, “the rank will be honorary?”

The old scribe was the one who answered. “Yes. It carries prestige and income, but there is no need for them to administer the land."

“But that goes against its very role. Why?” Sir Omin asked Lansius directly, concern written across his face.

The others showed unease as well, knowing it ran against tradition. A manor holder was expected to guard the land and ensure the peasantry labored and paid their share as intended.

To them, Lansius answered, “Do you want to repeat the past Lowlandia?”

The men and women were taken aback, but they began to understand his warning.

“I shall mince no words. The purpose is to prevent the banneret from amassing power," Lansius explained.

Some of the staff began to nod, and Audrey at his side did the same.

In this model of enfeoffment, the banneret’s income would come from tax shares drawn from a region through his House rather than from personal ownership of the land. “We are growing, and I am not making rules for a single set of people. In the near future, others among you who continue to prove their merits may attain this rank. This arrangement will ensure that real power remains in the hands of the Shogunate, who will surpass us all.”

The staff nodded among themselves.

“I see,” Sir Michael murmured to Ingrid, then turned to Sir Omin. “This would prevent the accumulation of power in the hands of the banneret.”

Dame Daniella raised her hand, and Lansius motioned for her to speak. “But who will administer the land?”

“Talented individuals under the Office of Works,” Lansius replied. “This might offend you, so I apologize, but I want the land managed by able individuals. It must not fall to young heirs who know nothing of what they are doing. I do not want riot, unrest, or peasant rebellion.”

Everyone seemed quick to agree. The memory of the rebellion was still fresh.

“You are thinking far ahead,” Audrey praised.

Lansius glanced at her and allowed himself a brief smile.

“Does this mean we will be encouraged to remain in Canardia, My Lord?” Sir Omin asked, unexpectedly warming to the idea.

“Indeed. And because one would normally inherit a manor house with the designated land, although I am sure you would still be required to pay for repairs to leaky roofs, crumbling walls, broken furniture, and so on, I will instead grant each banneret a sum of money to build a house in Canardia or nearby.”

“So, Canardia will become the permanent seat of power?” Sir Omin inquired.

“Unless there are different circumstances…” Lansius let the words hang. “On a related matter, I am planning to develop new land for Shogunate lords who wish to join us here. I will build walls to protect it as well.”

The old scribe wrote it down, making sure to mention this to the Office of Works.

“Most importantly,” Lansius said in a steady, authoritative voice. “This arrangement ensures that the greatest talents in the realm remain close at hand. Without such wisdom and strength, a lord is but a beggar in fine clothes.”

The older staff looked pleased; some seemed slightly embarrassed, while others let out a smile or a smirk. It was praise to their ears. The young knight Sterling remained stoic, but his wife, Claire, glanced left and right in disbelief before muttering to Dame Daniella beside her, “Dame, who is the greatest talent?”

The Dame gave a soft snort and whispered, “It is us, you included.” At that, a ripple of subdued laughter moved through the hall, and even Lansius and Audrey allowed themselves a chuckle.

***

City of Kapua

The battle had dragged on for hours into the early evening. The cold drizzle never ceased, and the only light came from lanterns and torches burning in the towers and along the conquered corridors. The King’s crossbowmen had spent themselves, some climbing onto the rooftops, loosing bolt after bolt into the darkened sky. Yet still they failed to bring down the black behemoth that hovered above. It was their third attempt, and their third failure. The airships had come and gone three times already, and this one would likely be the last.

At first, they believed they had misjudged the range, deceived by the sheer size of the vessel. It seemed close enough to strike, but in truth, it floated farther away, high above, just beyond the tallest tower of the castle. After their last attempt, they finally understood: it was simply out of reach.

Below, the fighting raged across the castle grounds. The Dawn resisted with ferocity, holding every corner and gate, desperate to delay the assault long enough to evacuate more of their men.

At last, thousands of the King’s soldiers surged through the shattered gate and swept into the fortress. Amid the bloodshed on the winding staircases of the towers, the last of the Dawn boarded their airship and fled, leaving the castle beneath the new King’s banner.

Watching the airship depart, the tens of thousands of the King’s men who had lived through the fighting roared in triumph. And then, as so often happened after a hard battle, discipline broke down. By long tradition, the city was theirs to plunder. While at first they were surprised to find it abandoned, to most of them, having a solid roof overhead and a place to rest was enough. In large groups, they looted homes for dry clothes, blankets, and food, and many began to cook whatever they could find.

More than gold or silver, warmth and dryness mattered most, especially for those burdened with wounded comrades or kin.

Before long, different bands of greedy looters roamed the streets. Many had been bandits before being forced to join the King’s army. Though they all wore the same colors, quarrels and clashes broke out, and men banded together in groups for their own protection.

The chain of command had already frozen. Most officers, save for the strictest, turned a blind eye. So long as no fires broke out, they did not care.

All the while, above the din of chaos, the King rode toward the newly conquered castle, escorted by his finest men, mercenaries who had once been his own.

He entered through the broken gate into the Great Hall, barely cleared of rubble, blood, and debris. A dozen surviving staff and servants greeted him there. They groveled, trembling, some trying to kiss the hem of his robe.

King Nico halted, taller than most and athletic, his youthful handsomeness in his thirties softened by a gentle complexion that clashed with the cold disinterest in his eyes. Finding the castle staff old and unattractive, he ignored their pleas and turned to his older Centurian-born captain. “Is this all?”

“I am afraid so, Your Majesty. The Dawn left them locked in the vault,” the captain replied.

“How tragic,” the King muttered, flicking his hand so that a dozen guards dragged the servants away.

“What of the vault?” he asked.

The captain turned uneasy, and the King exhaled before muttering in mockery to himself, “I have bled so much, only to gain an empty city.”

“It is still a perfect staging ground, My King.”

“No rest for a hungry army.” The two moved deeper into the castle, flanked by guards.

“How many do you think are needed to take the Dawn barony?” the King asked, unbothered by the blood and entrails strewn across the corridor.

“Probably just as many,” the captain replied.

The King mumbled with indifference, then said, “We can afford the war. It is not as if I plan to keep this many alive through winter.”

The captain nodded. None amongst the entourage was surprised by the tone. They had known all along about the plan. Except for the Centurian or the half-blood Centurian, they had little love for the native Nicopolans or the other rival migrants.

“How many are left?” the King asked as they turned toward the Grand Hall, now ruined from the battle.

“About fifteen thousand, more or less.”

The King remained unconcerned. “And our own?”

“Just a few hundred, My King.”

“Quite a chunk,” the King remarked as he circled the chamber, admiring the murals on the walls and the tapestry still hanging.

“With Kapua secured, we can expect more allied warlords to send men,” the captain suggested.

“Better still, invite them here. And do not take no for an answer.” The King quickly added, “Also, I keep hearing of this new power to the east, a man who united Lowlandia and Midlandia. Find me more information about him. There should be smugglers waiting for their chance to seek an audience.”

“I have heard of him, too. Does Your Majesty wish to strike east after Dawn?”

“Not quite,” the King chuckled as he took a seat. “I find his rise… endearing. With the fall of the Imperium’s shackles, stars will undoubtedly rise from the ashes. I intend to see whether they are truly stars, or only dull impostors.”

The captain, standing before him with the rest of the entourage, asked, “Then, are you planning to ally with him?”

The King chuckled again. “There may be as many stars in the night sky, but let there be only one who walks among men.”

***