CHAPTER 283: THE RED STRAND

The Red Strand

Canardia Castle

The green hedges now were tipped with yellow, a mark of the incoming harvest season, while the gravel paths were scattered with the first fallen leaves. The air carried the damp scent of earth and the fading sweetness of late summer blooms. It was two hours before sundown when Lansius met with Valerie in the garden, a fitting place for a private talk between man and woman. Far enough from eavesdropping, yet still in the open so their entourage could see, and no one would suspect anything improper.

They had walked toward a stone bench, speaking of the pilgrims, who by now had become a subject of common talk. Everyone had seen them and held an opinion, ranging from open sympathy to being vexed by their numbers and the trouble they caused.

"My Lord," she began, the title slipping from her tongue out of habit after months together, then corrected herself. "Lans, you had better not try to play God. You know what happened with cults in our world."

He nodded quickly. "Of course. That is why I treat this carefully."

Her expression showed she was searching for words. "I know it must be tempting to use them," she said as they drew near the stone bench. "But I am against deceiving people, even for good intentions."

They stopped at the stone bench beneath a cluster of trees that offered shade. While Lansius stood in thought, Valerie subtly flicked her hand, and a breeze swept the bench clear of fallen leaves. He was so accustomed to seeing Audrey do the same that it hardly struck him as unusual.

She sat down and added, "I met them once, during a trip to the shops. They are gullible. You need to refuse them clearly, or they will take you for a prophet, or worse, a messiah."

"Just for the sake of argument," he ventured, "militarily, they would be beneficial, especially as a counterbalance against the rebels."

"Are you sure? You are talking about raising another group of fanatical murderers," she sighed wearily, disappointed. "If you fight fire with fire, the whole thing will burn down."

Lansius nodded again, acknowledging her argument.

"The emperor was right, you know," she added. "He rejected divinity. If even the Ageless refused it, how could you claim it for yourself? It is a dangerous idea. They will expect you to live a thousand years. When you do not, the moment you pass away, your House will find itself standing on shaky ground."

"That is insightful," he said, exhaling deeply. "Gratitude for keeping me grounded."

"Does your council want you to use them?" she asked.

"No. They only said it is natural after the victories."

"Be wary of them in this case," Valerie warned. "To those who do not know your origin, they are just as susceptible. The wealth of knowledge you possess would certainly seem extraordinary." Her words lingered before she added, "But then again, they may have a point. After all, you keep winning desperate battles one after another. Even in our world, in a medieval society, you would be seen as special, perhaps even considered a demi-god."

"That is not true," he countered. "In our world, there were generals who won tens of battles without defeat. They gained rank and fame, not worshippers.”

"Fair point," she conceded with a nod.

By now, Lansius had nothing else on his mind. He had expected a long-winded discussion, but Valerie was surprisingly straightforward. So he stood quietly, letting the gentle breeze shake his worries away. He had made up his mind to meet the pilgrims and respectfully refuse any notion that he had been sent by the Ancients. Hopefully, he could persuade them to accept his rule without expecting a messiah.

"So tell me, what are you doing about the weapon?" Valerie changed the subject.

"Weapon?" His eyes narrowed, puzzled.

"You know what I meant," she replied, meeting his gaze. "Fusil."

Lansius drew a quick breath at the French word, turning uncertain, hesitating. He had never spoken of it to anyone, only in the quiet of his own thoughts. ɽåℕꝊ𝖇Ěᶊ

Catching his reluctance, Valerie snorted and glanced toward the clipped hedges before teasing, "Now, where has that bravado gone? I heard you demonstrated how to use a fusil on the castle grounds in Cascasonne."

"Who told you that?" His tone turned inquisitive.

"The fluffy lady, Francisca." Valerie grinned.

"Ah," he muttered. Francisca was there and saw the demonstration with the musket.

"Which begs the question," she went on, thoughtful. "If the fusil is House Bengrieve’s secret, and scarcely known even in Progentia, how are you familiar with it? Where have you used one before?"

A cluster of ladies-in-waiting drifted past beyond the hedge, gossiping and giggling until they noticed the guards and the entourage. They straightened at once, lowered their eyes, and continued in silence.

Returning his gaze to Valerie, Lansius said, "It was my first time."

"First time?"

"Yes. It was my first time handling a fusil."

Her expression turned priceless, a mix of shock and awe. "But how? I heard you managed to impress everyone by loading and firing it. Was it not complex?"

"I guess I'm quite the nerd to know about the correct loading method," he said cheerfully, unable to hide his pride.

"B-but, it is not even the same as our world’s old fusil."

"True. But it was not a Dreyse needle gun or a Chassepot, where there might be quirks I wouldn’t know. As far as medieval fusils go, they are rather basic."

Valerie lingered on his words, her eyes unfocused, before she turned to him, studying him in a new light. "Still, it is surprising for someone untrained."

"Why?" Lansius challenged, his eyes glinting as he straightened, a playful arrogance in his stance, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. "Does my nerdiness make me look appealing now?"

"Hah!" Valerie exclaimed, caught between surprise and amusement.

The two shared a brief chuckle beneath the shade of the clustered trees, the garden alive as the wind rustled the leaves overhead and the faint hum of bees drifted through the air.

After a steadying breath, Lansius said, "I kept several pieces of the Cascasonne fusil in the castle, just in case I need them. If Bengrieve comes asking, I might have to surrender them. He might claim they are heirlooms."

"Best not to argue if that happens. Otherwise, he will make you pay an arm." She let out a weary sigh.

"And a leg," Lansius agreed dryly.

Valerie turned to him, studying him for a moment before asking, "Lans, I always wonder when you are going to arm everyone with fusils and defeat every enemy that comes your way."

Lansius only snorted at the simplicity of the idea.

She frowned. "Why the unserious reaction?"

"Val," he said, settling onto the stone bench beside her. "We are not living in some poor-grade tale about going back in time."

"What do you mean by that?" A pout formed on her lips.

Lansius did not answer at once, so she added, "Surely you know how big of a deal gunpowder weapons are in the history of our world."

"Without a doubt."

"Then why the timidness?" she asked, perplexed. "Anyone else in your place would already be racing to make as many as they could, to arm as many men with fusils. Is this not a fight for survival?"

"But that is exactly my point," Lansius countered.

Her brow arched, and the smoothness of her features seemed to harden. Her platinum hair shifted as she tilted her head in quiet scrutiny.

Lansius met her gaze. His brown eyes held her shimmering gold. They were inquisitive, yet far gentler than Audrey’s roaring fire.

"What I meant to say is, to do that would be suicide," he explained.

She continued to frown.

"If we waged wars with fusils, then perhaps for ten years we might hold supremacy. Call it fusil supremacy if you wish. But what comes after that?"

Doubt crept into her eyes, and her gaze wandered back to the autumn garden around them.

Lansius drew a slow breath and followed her gaze to the scattered leaves before lowering his voice. "I am not the greatest Lord on the continent. Quite the contrary. The other Lords, the traitor Gottfried, and the Eastern Kingdoms are far greater than Midlandia."

She glanced at him. "Your point?"

"Competition," he replied. "You are mad if you think I can outmatch the great powers in their great forges and workshops. Once they learn how effective these weapons are, they will do their utmost to obtain them or construct their own. And with a kingdom’s worth of craftsmen behind each of them, their production will overwhelm us. Soon, every army will bear ranks of fusils, and we will be in a world of pain."

Valerie looked troubled. It felt like the first time she had truly considered that possibility.

"I am not some reckless fool who would introduce guns for a short-term advantage, only to regret it when the design is imitated and turned against me," he said, firm in his stance. "If you are familiar with Japanese history, you will recall the time of Nobunaga. It took less than fifty years for a samurai world that had never seen a gun to be making and fielding ten thousand of them in battle."

Valerie drew a long, heavy breath. History had never felt important to her until now, when she was living inside one.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Lansius continued. "There were so many guns they invaded Korea, and they even thought to march on China, had the Ming not stopped them." He glanced at her, gauging her reaction, and saw that she understood. "Despite what we know of them, fusils, or more correctly, matchlock arquebuses, are easy to replicate. Swordsmiths in Japan were able to make most of the components after just a year of trial and error."

"I never knew that..."

"And in our case, it is not exactly our only secret either," he reminded her. "Bengrieve has them, and he made them from Dwarven artifacts."

"Yes. There are explorers using them."

"And selling them too, I imagine. It would be naive to think we are the only ones who know about this. There is probably another Bengrieve somewhere, perhaps among the major players. We should not be reckless. We must be cautious."

Valerie exhaled wearily after hearing his words. The weight of it seemed to settle on her, and her shoulders had never looked so fragile.

The wind stirred the branches above them as Lansius muttered, albeit more to himself, "Ten years is probably too generous a prediction. I doubt we will be able to maintain that cutting edge for long."

No secret of war survives its first battle.

"Well, it is good to know that you have considered this," she said in a lighter tone. "Maybe it is presumptuous of me to assume you had not thought this through. After all, you have won time and time again."

Lansius took no pride in it, but nodded to acknowledge her words.

"So, now, what will you do if someone else develops fusils and comes against you? Or is this a military secret?"

Against her expectation, Lansius’ lips curved into a smile. "I am a peaceful man," he told her calmly. "However, if anyone threatens me or my family with guns, then they will see the full might of gunpowder warfare."

Her golden eyes went wide. "You have a counter against fusils? But you did not even make your own."

Lansius raised an eyebrow. "Who says I am not making them?"

"But you just said..." She broke off, before continuing, "Lans, you just gave me a long-winded lecture on how not to introduce firearms."

"Yes, I said I do not wish to start an arms race."

"What...?"

"It is the race that is wrong. But it would be completely irresponsible, even reckless, of me not to arm myself in case of emergency."

Valerie looked taken aback. "You keep saying one thing and then acting the other way."

Lansius snorted, feeling some guilt for not explaining properly.

"So, after all you said, you are going to manufacture them." She breathed a sigh of relief.

He reluctantly nodded, thinking to argue, but did not see it as needed. "There's a difference. I will not use them unless someone else uses them against me. They are a last resort."

She did not comment, allowing Lansius to add, "I have sent some of the fusils to Korelia. Calub will be the one to study and replicate them as best as he can."

"You did not choose the wrong man," she said. "He already understood it during our time in Progentia. He knows how it works."

Lansius nodded, recalling Calub’s reports about gathering craftsmen and smiths for the project. It would have been easier to make the weapons in Midlandia, but for the sake of secrecy, he wanted everything done in Korelia.

"So how many pieces are being made right now?"

"It has barely been a few months," he reminded her. "I will supervise the early design this winter, and we will likely finish a few to be tested next year. Even with the full backing of my House, it will take several years just to equip and train the first hundred. But since the purpose is emergency, they will go straight to the armory."

"Now that I think of it, you are doing what Bengrieve had done," she pointed out.

"What exactly do you mean?"

"That you will keep them hidden in storage until an emergency. That is exactly what happened in Cascasonne."

The notion struck Lansius, and he needed a moment to think. "I must admit, what he had done was correct."

A breeze rustled through the garden, stirring the branches and dry leaves, as Valerie suggested, "Have you ever considered that he might be correct in other things too?"

Lansius crossed his arms. "I'm not sure. All we have are suspicions and unknown motives."

She drew in a sharp breath, lifting her face toward the gray sky of fall before commenting, "At least you are not planning anything mad."

"Like what?" he replied lightly, not expecting anything serious.

She turned toward him, their eyes meeting. "Something only a megalomaniac would imagine," she said with a serious gaze. "Like defeating all your enemies in ten years using fusils."

The suggestion left Lansius stunned. He turned from her gaze and stared off into the distance. Even though it was meant as a joke, his mind could not help but chase the possibility.

For a moment, silence fell between them until Lansius shook his head. "No," he said. "As I said, the production alone will take years just to field a few hundred. And without Napoleonic-era cannons, it would be brutal." Then, with a jest, he added, "And while we are at it, I might as well wish for Napoleon himself to lead the army."

"You speak of madness," she giggled. "He would declare himself Emperor, and it might end badly."

Lansius chuckled. "All right, then, how about his marshals? Some of them were very capable."

"Perhaps..." She did not look eager to pursue that discussion further, and suddenly said, "All right, I trust you on this. I believe everyone is in good hands."

"I am glad for the trust," he answered.

The two rose from the stone bench and set off for a walk, the sun casting a mellow glow across the garden paths. Their talk turned toward Audrey.

"Indeed, she is... strong," Valerie said, her tone edged with concern. For all her years as an experienced mage and proud explorer, seasoned against goblins and minor fell beasts, she now felt at a disadvantage against the Lady. She muttered, "I hope she finds a better mage to train with."

He glanced at her with sympathy. "Tough luck, she enjoys sparring with you."

She shot him a sharp look. "The husband should step up."

"The husband has other, more pressing matters to worry about," he replied, dodging her suggestion cleanly.

Valerie exhaled in frustration, while Lansius chuckled softly, content at having won the exchange.

"Then, give me your permission?" she suddenly said.

"Permission for what?"

"The siege," she replied.

Lansius fixed her with a hard stare, but she did not flinch.

"I'm thinking of going with Clementine and Sir Omin," Valerie revealed.

"But why?" he asked. She usually showed little concern for the affairs of this world.

"I cannot keep lazing about for nothing." Valerie slowed to a halt, turning her gaze aside. "I want to earn my place. I cannot remain your guest forever."

Lansius came to a stop beside her. "But you are part of the House."

"I am not your mistress, and you do not use me as a staff or bodyguard."

"You are Audrey’s mentor."

She sighed, shaking her head. "Listen. If I go there, Sir Stan will also participate. Then you will have more assurance against the Monastery."

Hearing the baronet's name, Lansius smirked. "So that is what this is about."

"Pardon?" Her tone turned inquisitive.

"A getaway romance," he quipped.

"Huh?"

Stifling a chuckle, he continued, "If that is the case, with you and Sir Stan, then I could agree."

She was taken aback, lips pouting as she readied to protest, but Lansius noticed his four guards and another retainer coming down the garden path toward him. Their approach left Valerie no choice but to step aside and resume her guise as a mere guest.

"My Lord," they greeted with a bow.

Lansius regarded the newcomer, one of the promising talents Sir Omin had put forward, now entrusted with the mini-ballista project. "You are here to deliver a report?"

"Yes, My Lord," the newly appointed officer replied, shoulders stiff with nervous pride. "The western outpost has reported airship sightings."

...

The caravan had brought Lansius’ order of twenty state-of-the-art field telescopes from Ekionia, the only province whose craftsmen had mastered the making of lenses. Along with them came another ten lightweight monoculars, small enough to be carried and used without mounting, which Lansius intended to distribute among his officers and scouts. He inspected the pieces and was satisfied enough to place another large order, while also seeking to lure the guild into opening a workshop in his domain by enticing them with promises of greater contracts and development investment.

After all, he needed more of these semaphore towers, where tall masts with pivoting arms could be read through telescopes from miles away. These wonders of communication, known in his world as optical telegraphs, would ideally spread to connect the four corners of his domain. Lansius wanted reports and messages to travel in mere hours, not days, across the Great Plains. To achieve that, he would need hundreds of towers and telescopes.

And today, one of those early semaphore towers had delivered its first finding: an unknown airship.

"Audrey," Lansius called as he entered the training hall.

"Yes?" she replied, sweat running down her face, a large training sword in hand, the size of a claymore, its blade dented and scored from bends hammered straight. She had been hitting a large wooden target wrapped in used linen, reasoning that she needed to work on her strength. Judging from the wreckage and the scatter of wood chips, it had been destructive enough.

"Unknown airship heading to Canardia," he said urgently.

She set the training sword on the rack and stepped toward him. "But an airship, it must be one of Dawn’s?"

"Claire has confirmed she has never seen the model described by the observation tower. And this one came from the west."

"From the direction of Elandia?" Audrey paused, frowning. "But even if Bengrieve has an airship, he's an ally."

"We never ratified any formal agreement," he reminded her. "This may be nothing, but better to prepare than be sorry."

"So, what do you want me to do?"

"Evacuate the family to the safe manor," he answered, recalling the plans they had made for such an event.

Her expression turned sullen. "I always wanted to see a balloon pierced."

Lansius furrowed his brows. "Pardon?"

"I heard a mage knight can strike such a target with an iron spear. I want to try that sometime."

"L-let us not resort to violence too soon. It might be allies or even neutral parties."

"Right..." she nodded easily, then met his gaze with her beautiful yet strong hazel-brown eyes. "Then I shall arrange to move the child and the family to one of the safe manors. How much time do we have?"

"Judging from the reports, probably less than two hours."

"Enough time," Audrey said. And she was right. House Lansius was thoroughly trained. A detachment of core personnel with adequate escorts and provisions for several days was always ready to march within an hour. It could be coupled with the garrison on duty in the castle and the camp, which Lansius had already ordered to mobilize.

"Lans," she called, "do you want Karl, Omin, or Michael to accompany you? One of them should lead the detachment."

"You would not lead them yourself? But the child?"

"I will feed him after this. Afterwards, he has Mother Arryn, Tanya, and the wet nurse."

Lansius did not argue. "Then please see them out. And do not worry about defenses. We have two aerial ballistas ready at the gatehouse and the castle tower."

"I always wished to see them let fly in anger."

"Hopefully not today," he said, then added, "I do not wish to ruin those aerial marvels."

"Ah, you want to capture them instead. An understandable thought, my husband," she quipped with a smirk.

"Indeed, my wife," he replied with amusement.

And so the two left the training chamber and prepared for the incoming airship.

***

West Gatehouse

From the west, against the glow of the setting sun, came the airship. Its shape appeared first as a dark silhouette in the cloudy sky, before the fading light caught its sharp and sleek ivory-colored hull. It glided over the yellowing meadows outside the city and passed above the wooden arena, its shadow stretching broad across the fields below. With a speed near that of a galloping horse, though free of the ground’s obstacles, it closed steadily on the city.

Along the walls, hundreds of men stood ready. The newly built aerial ballista, fresh from the workshop, had already been primed. Its completion had come quickly with the help of master smiths who had arrived with the caravan. Now, its crew, eager to prove the weapon, stood by to loose a warning bolt marked with a red flag should the vessel stray too near.

"It is a different model," Claire said, eye to the telescope. Her report drew the attention of the command staff, including Sir Omin and Sir Michael.

"Yes. Smaller than the one we saw before," Audrey answered.

"A new model..." Lansius murmured. "Wasn't the Bat his latest one? Just how large is his production?"

Boots thudded on the ladder. The young officer who commanded a separate cart-drawn ballista climbed up. The guards blocked his way until Francisca signaled for him to be let through. He stepped forward, nervously straightened his back, and delivered his report to Lansius. "My Lord, the mobile ballista group is ready. The airship is closing fast. Shall we shadow its movement and attempt an intercept? I believe it would make good practice for the men."

"No. Keep on standby," Lansius replied. "I apologize for denying you the chance, but for now, stay clear. It is likely an ally." He repeated more firmly, "Do not follow, and do not engage. We do not want to appear threatening. Unless it attacks first, hold your shot."

"Yes, My Lord," the officer responded. He did not look disappointed; simply being present among the Lord and his prominent staff already felt like an achievement to him.

Meanwhile, Claire, still at the telescope, went rigid. Her hands tightened on the frame, and her breath caught, as though she had seen something.

"The vessel has just unfurled its flag," Audrey said calmly, surprising everyone.

Lansius, Sir Omin, Sir Michael, and Francisca exchanged glances before Audrey met their eyes, declaring, "It is the Lord of Dawn’s coat of arms."

Claire lifted her eye from the scope, turned to Lansius, and gave a slow nod of confirmation.

Lansius breathed a sigh of relief before declaring, "Stand down. It is an ally."

At once, Sir Omin strode to the ballista crew and shouted, "You heard the Lord. Get that bolt off the ballista. I want it clear, unloaded, and covered."

"Get the hall and the kitchen ready," Sir Michael instructed the castle staff.

"Claire," Lansius called. She drew near, and he continued, "Go with Sir Sterling and use our largest banner to guide them. Find them a suitable place to land."

"You are not going to allow them our usual berthing space?" Claire asked, her blond hair caught in the wind.

"I still have my doubts," Lansius said, raising his voice against the gusts.

"Acknowledged," she replied, then went to find her husband, who was leading a cavalry detachment.

"Sir Michael," Lansius called.

"Yes, My Lord," answered the handsome knight with an eyepatch.

"Prepare a welcoming carriage and escort," Lansius ordered.

But Audrey at his side cut in. "No. We should come."

"What is that?" Lansius asked.

Audrey looked straight at him. "I saw a red-haired girl aboard. The heir of Dawn is here."

***