Horizon of War Series

Hallowed Fangs

Lansius

Waiting inside his command tent, Lansius leaned forward over the table, his hands forming a triangle—thumbs resting under his chin, fingers pressed lightly against his lips. The table, unusually bare, was cleared of the usual maps and scrolls. Only a honey jar, a silver jug of water, and a package of salt remained, untouched. His gaze shifted toward the daybed, now pushed slightly into the corner. There lay Valerie, his only friend from his world.

After the examination earlier that day, she had fallen asleep again, worrying many. Despite Ingrid and the physician's best efforts, she remained in this state, sleeping like the dead. Her breathing was so soft and shallow that he could barely see her chest rise or fall. Often overcome by worry, Lansius would check her in person, placing his fingers near her nostrils just to feel the faint movement of air.

The sun had long waned, and the soft glow from a lantern illuminated the tent. The air had grown colder, and Lansius had draped his precious nomadic shawl over her as a makeshift blanket.

He felt troubled like never before. Unlike Audrey, who radiated confidence and strength—strong as steel and hard as a tempered anvil—Hannei, or Valerie, her real name, was delicate. They were friends by circumstance, though their situations were vastly different. Lansius had arrived in this world with nothing, while Valerie had everything. She retained her memories, likely had a mentor, understood the spoken language, and even possessed magic.

Lansius suspected that, unlike him, Valerie had been summoned or transported fully intact to this world. Yet, there was a glaring gap in their practical knowledge and abilities. Magic alone wasn’t enough to survive or live quietly in this turbulent era, though he had to admit she was close to achieving it.

He sighed heavily, the sound catching the attention of Francisca, who stood watch near the entrance. The half-breed turned to him and said, “My Lord, you should join your family to rest.”

"I will, but maybe later," Lansius lied. Now that Stan had entrusted her to him, he would do whatever he could to find a solution. For now, though, he could only stare.

"My Lord, I can smell fear and sadness in people," Francisca said softly, her tone respectful. "And I know you care deeply about this woman."

"I do," Lansius admitted, leaning back. "She’s special; like the sister I never had."

His words seemed to satisfy Francisca’s curiosity, and the tent fell quiet again, save for the occasional sound of patrols passing outside.

I should be happy...

He had been reunited with Tanya and Arryn, yet even their shared meals and light discussions felt shallow. Guilt weighed heavily on him, rooted in his deep concern for this woman.

"What if I have a treatment for her?" Francisca’s voice suddenly shattered the silence.

Lansius turned to her, his face startled. "Tell me," he instructed.

Francisca rummaged through a leather bag at her waist, its size looking small against her tall frame. She nimbly picked out a leather pouch using her claws like chopsticks and held it out to him.

Lansius stood and carefully took the pouch from her hands. Opening it, he found a woolen wrapping used to protect delicate items. Inside was a deep green vine-like object with sharp, milky-white ends. "Venomous snake fangs?"

"Indeed," Francisca confirmed. "Their fangs are hollow. Using them, I can transfer my blood to her through the bloodvine. It’s a method known among the half-breed. Old Kaen spoke of it in his scriptures, and he claimed it would work even with humans because you have the blood of the Ancients."

Lansius’ eyes widened as he gazed at her, excitement breaking through his usual composure. "I know this. I’ve been searching for this!"

Francisca blinked, momentarily dumbfounded, but she sensed no lie. "My Lord knows about this method?"

"I know a similar method, but I’m still worried about mismatched blood," he said, carefully placing the bloodvine on the table. "Do we need to boil the tip first? What does the scripture say?"

She let out a sigh of relief, having held it back out of fear of offending him. "It’s already cleaned. But as for mismatched blood in humans, I’m not sure," she admitted. "It’s been years since I read it, but we can ask the Lady."

"The Lady?" Lansius squinted in confusion.

"Yes, the Lady. She’s been reading the scripture."

Lansius frowned, suddenly recalling Audrey reading a book about Umberland and the half-breeds. "Then should I fetch the book for you?"

"That’s not what I meant," Francisca replied sheepishly. "The scripture is messy, often jumping from one topic to another because it’s mostly the ramblings of an old man. It’s better to ask someone who’s read it recently and still freshly remembers it."

"Then wait here. I’ll bring the Lady," Lansius said, moving to leave.

"No need. She’s—"

Rustling from inside the tent cut her off. Lansius turned and froze as Audrey emerged from the inner part of their tent, wearing a gambeson like jacket over her plain white linen robe. In her hands, she held a book.

"You asked for me?" she said, her tone formal.

"But you said you’re sleeping with Tanya and Arryn."

"I have the right to be with my husband," Audrey replied, slightly annoyed at having to explain herself. "No need to worry about the two; they’re used to sleeping on time, unlike us. So, I went back to get some light to read."

Lansius raised an eyebrow. "But I didn’t see you enter."

Her lips tightened. "Of course, you didn’t. How could you? You were too busy staring..."

Lansius, felt a smile curve his lips, his earlier gloom lifting. "Is that jealousy I hear, dear love?"

Audrey frowned, shaking her head firmly. "That's inappropriate. She’s ill, and Valerie is a good friend. I could never... In fact, when she gets better, you could marry her, and I’d support you."

It was a bold claim, but Francisca stifled a laugh, her shoulders trembling with raw amusement.

"You know she can detect lies, right?" Lansius said without any teasing.

Still, Audrey’s face turned crimson as she shot a sharp glance at Francisca before turning back to Lansius. "She must’ve misread something."

Lansius chuckled and took her hand, his voice softening. "Nine kids."

"What nine kids?" Audrey repeated, her gaze questioning.

"Before I ever marry again, I’ll give you nine kids," Lansius promised.

Audrey’s mouth dropped open. She whispered in disbelief, "You’re crazy. I’m not getting pregnant nine times in a row."

"I am, crazy, " Lansius said, smiling shamelessly. "Crazy for you."

Audrey blinked, momentarily losing her composure as a small giggle escaped. Nearby, Francisca muffled her own laughter. Though this was a private moment, they didn’t mind her presence. To them, she was a protective shadow, reliable and reassuring.

"Enough," Audrey said, her tone dismissive as she regained her composure. "I’m not here to be the blunt end of a joke."

"Right," Lansius said, turning serious as he picked up the bloodvine and the snake fangs attached to it. He held it up for Audrey to see. "This might save Valerie. Does the book say anything about this?"

"We’re in luck. I’ve read about it," Audrey said as she opened the book to a page with an illustration of the bloodvine. The drawing showed it being connected from one person to another at the wrists.

Lansius gently took the book from her and began reading. Meanwhile, Audrey turned to Francisca. "We’ll probably need the physician again."

...

Audrey

Francisca returned to Audrey after arranging for a guard to summon the physician. "My Lady," she whispered, "the physician isn’t asleep, but he’s in the middle of a delicate operation."

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"That’s fine. We can wait," Audrey replied, imagining it was likely an amputation from a decaying limb. Her eyes flicked to Lansius, who remained engrossed in the book, furiously flipping pages and scribbling notes.

"Also, there’s a little girl outside waiting to meet you," Francisca added, her voice quieter now.

"A little girl?" Audrey furrowed her brow, meeting Francisca’s gaze.

"Yes," Francisca replied. "The guard mentioned that one of Sir Stan’s men brought her here. She’s asleep now. They say she’s Lady Hannei’s maid."

"A maid?"

Francisca nodded. Curious, Audrey adjusted her gambeson and stepped outside, leaving Lansius undisturbed at the table.

"My Lady," the guardsmen greeted her.

"Where’s the little girl?" Audrey asked.

The stout-looking guardsman near the campfire smiled and gestured toward a figure bundled in a thick blanket, sound asleep atop a flat wooden box.

One of the nearest guards reported, "The men from the castle brought her, but it was late. We figured she could wait until morning."

The guard moved as if to wake her, but Audrey motioned for him to stop. Instead, she approached and leaned forward, her expression softening as she recognized the girl’s face. "Francisca," she said, glancing over her shoulder, "bring her in. I’ll vouch for her."

Francisca stepped forward and carefully picked up the girl, who stirred at the sudden movement. Her small body tensed, her blurred eyes blinking awake as she let out a suppressed yawn. "What’s happening?" she murmured groggily. When her gaze fell on Francisca’s wolf-like features looming above her, her eyes widened in alarm.

"Hey," Audrey called softly, catching the girl’s attention. The familiar voice made the girl gasp. "Lady Audrey!"

"Everything is alright," Audrey reassured her. "Don’t be afraid. We’re taking you inside, but you’ll need to stay quiet, okay? No commotion."

The girl nodded, wiping away her tears as she clung to Francisca’s arm. The three of them entered the tent, leaving the guards outside, visibly relieved. They seemed fond of the girl—likely because she was polite, helpful, and didn't cause trouble.

Lansius turned toward them as they entered. "What’s going on outside?"

"Lans, do you remember this girl?" Audrey asked, nodding toward the girl in Francisca’s arms.

"Tia!" Lansius exclaimed, rising from his chair, his eyes lighting up. The Korelian girl squirmed free, ran to him, and stopped a short distance away to curtsy. "My Lord," she said, her gaze darting briefly toward the bed.

"Go on," Audrey said from behind. "You can stay by your master’s bedside."

Tia bowed again to both Lansius and Audrey before hurrying to Valerie’s side. She sat quietly by the bed, her eyes fixed on her unconscious mistress.

"Sir Stan sent one of his men to deliver Tia to us," Audrey explained. "They said she’s Hannei’s maid."

"What a coincidence," Lansius remarked.

"Yes, and we were just talking about her yesterday," Audrey added.

Lansius nodded but turned serious. "And the physician?"

"We’ll have to wait," Audrey replied. "It’s the second night, and as expected, there are many issues to handle."

Lansius exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging. The number of injuries on their side was minimal, so they had allowed the physician to assist the captured men, provided they cooperated. They even allocated some medical supplies, though sparingly, as Lansius needed to reserve them for future conflicts. For many of the injured, they knew it would only delay the inevitable.

Audrey stepped closer and took his hands, massaging them gently. "We’ll get it done. Valerie will come back to us, just as Tia has."

Lansius nodded, then turned to Francisca. "I’m going to take a short nap. Wake me when the physician arrives."

"Yes, My Lord," Francisca said with a slight bow.

Audrey followed him inside, saying, "You also need to meet Belgutei tomorrow morning."

"Yes. Once he’s back from hunting, I need to solve the issue of captured people."

"To think you’d allow them to hunt in Bengrieve’s private forest," Audrey muttered as they entered their bedchamber.

Lansius flashed a grin. "We can’t turn down their request to find fresh supplies, and we can always blame the fanatics. Besides, I suspect the forest is already depleted, given how desperate the besiegers were."

"That’s why the nomads are moving deeper northwest," Audrey remarked. "Anyway, what are you going to do with the captured men? We have nearly four thousand."

"I’m planning to send a third of them—the most docile—to work near our away capital. It’s early summer, so they should be able to grow vegetables or help with the roads, housing, and fortifications. As for the rest... that’s what I need to discuss with Belgutei."

Audrey nodded. "Well, let’s get some rest first. Francisca and Tia can watch over Valerie for a few hours. Now that we have a treatment available, you should be able to sleep more easily."

Lansius smiled faintly but said, "There’s still an issue to solve. I don’t think Valerie’s blood type matches with any of us. I need to devise a way to test if the treatment will help her—or harm her."

***

Sir Harold

The acting Marshal had just finished reconnoitering the camp area. There was reason to fear threats from both outside and within, from the captured men or their questionable allies. He had tasked additional men to patrol, who, fortunately, complied without complaint. Active patrols were essential to deter anyone from doing something foolish.

Previously, camping so close to the castle had seemed natural; they had shared a common enemy. But now, he feared it might tempt their allies to do the unthinkable. Fortunately, by tomorrow, they would likely begin moving. Marching through hostile territory with a horde of captured men was risky, but it was better than sitting idle and waiting for trouble.

Having completed his rounds, Harold confirmed that his men were rested and that the injured were ready to move. Tomorrow morning, he would ask the Lord to commit to the plan: sending a mobile group to occupy the neighboring manors and castles, securing them as they advanced. Another advance group would be tasked with locking down the city the Lord had chosen as their away capital.

Returning to his tent, Harold found no less than a lance group—four men—guarding a woman with her hands tied.

"Let me guess, you’re causing trouble again?" Sir Harold said, half-groaning as he addressed the woman.

"Sister Clementine refused to eat or drink until she met you," one of the guards reported.

The sister rose weakly but demanded loudly, "Release me and my sisters. We are servants of—"

"I am a servant of House Lansius," Harold interrupted sharply, "and unless you stop demanding things, I’ll bring you to him right now."

That silenced her. Even she knew the Black Lord wasn’t one to be trifled with, especially at such a late hour. The squire, guards, and four jailers watched with barely concealed glee; the sister had caused them no end of trouble.

Sir Harold rubbed his forehead, then glanced at her. "I’ll bring your request to tomorrow’s meeting. In the meantime, you need to eat and behave. I don’t want you fainting if the council or the Lord summons for you."

"Just untie me. I swear I won’t do anything. I’m not a rogue mage," she tried to reassure him.

Sir Harold studied her face for a moment before turning to the guards. "Untie her and get something from the kitchen. If we’re lucky, they’ll have some gruel or cold bread."

"Yes, Sir." The guards complied, untying her.

Clementine rubbed her bruised wrists and noticed Harold’s gaze. "They tied it too tight," she muttered.

"Of course, I told them to," Harold said matter-of-factly. "Your magic might be minuscule, but it can still harm people."

"I don’t tend towards violence," she retorted.

Harold gave her a skeptical look. Clementine glanced away. "My older sister commanded it. What could I do but obey?"

"And now she’s in Cascasonne’s dungeon for cursing all day and trying to incite rebellion."

"I don’t share her enthusiasm," she revealed without hesitation. "I think Healing Guild members shouldn’t take sides in wars."

Sir Harold raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and remarked loudly, "So you can think independently and not just parrot your elders. Color me impressed!"

His squire and the nearby guards chuckled, clearly amused by the exchange. Clementine pouted, her lips tightening, and spat to the side in defiance. The squire moved to intervene, but Harold waved him off.

Instead, Harold stepped forward, his tone cold and taunting. "Go on, try me."

Clementine was taller than average, but Harold easily towered over her. Up close, she had to look up to meet his gaze. Her right fist clenched and relaxed twice, but she held back.

"Bold, independent thinking, and not reacting on impulse," Harold remarked unexpectedly.

"I didn’t expect praise," she replied, stepping back.

"No, that’s an assessment," Harold clarified. "If you want to free one of your sisters, you’ll need to pay the price."

Clementine frowned, her expression questioning.

"You’ll likely need to plead your case and bargain with the shrewdest lord in existence. The Black Lord has charmed, tricked, duped, and outwitted nearly every cunning noble, deceitful lord, swindling guildsman, and cutthroat mercenary he’s ever met. He’s even impressed half-beasts to join him. Some say he could extort goblins or even fell beasts, and I’m inclined to believe those rumors."

The men laughed at the remarks, clearly familiar with such tales.

Clementine blinked, her confidence wavering.

One of the guards returned with a bowl of gruel and half a loaf of bread inside.

"Eat," Harold commanded as the guard offered her the bowl. "Any minute now, your stomach will growl."

"I'm not embarrassed by trivial things," she retorted, though she took the bowl and bowed politely to the guard.

"A growling belly means your head has less fire to burn. And you’ll need plenty of it tomorrow," Harold said casually before stepping into his tent with his squire, leaving Clementine to eat by the fire under the watchful eyes of the four guards.

***

Sterling

High in the sky, Sterling observed their surroundings. Even with normal eyesight, he could see the shimmering lights of a large city looming ahead. Claire, his wife, sat next to him, both of them wrapped in fur-lined clothes over woolen garments to shield against the fierce and cold night wind. The rest of the crew huddled in their blankets, a necessity for enduring the chill of airship travel.

Yet Midlandia's summer winds were mild compared to those of Nicopola or Lowlandia. The province was also easier to navigate from the air, with plenty of landmarks and roads clearly visible from above.

After their last proper rest in Korimor, the airship had embarked on a long flight through Midlandia, stopping only in unpopulated areas to maintain secrecy. Guided by the mages' sharp eyesight and the best maps they could obtain, the crew managed to follow the provincial roads toward their destination.

Two days ago, they had traced a river until they came upon an array of stone obelisks atop a hill—a striking landmark impossible to miss. There, they sent a small party to a nearby town, where as planned they located an agent of the Orange Skalds. The agent provided them with the latest intelligence and confirmed that Lord Lansius' plan for them remained unchanged.

Additionally, they learned of several intriguing developments in Lubina. With only a brief pause to resupply and rest, they pressed onward toward the capital city.

A magnificent walled city now stretched out beneath them. A mighty river divided the large settlement in two, connected by a grand stone bridge. On either side of the waters, a castle stood guard, one smaller than the other.

"It’s Lubina," Claire muttered to Sterling, having counted the number of towers and other distinctive features visible from above.

Sterling nodded, trusting her judgment. "Then let’s prepare."

Claire turned and called for their captain. "Sir, I can confirm it’s Lubina City and Eclipse Castle."

“Lubina City,” Sir Morton repeated calmly, his predatory gaze shifting to the crew. Many began to stir, warming up and flexing stiff muscles after the long journey. He smiled faintly. “Then we’re just in time for the finale of the feast.”

His men grinned, shedding their blankets to reveal outfits that looked fit for a gala, paired with improved X-Bow and swords.

Darkness veiled the two airships as they glided silently toward the famous Eclipse Castle, its countless windows glowing with warm, flickering light. From above, the castle’s walls offered no protection from sight. The castle grounds and buildings appeared alive, their lanterns and torches illuminating the grand stone bridge that spanned the mighty river. Nobles in carriages and on horseback made their way toward the castle’s welcoming embrace.

Even the city seemed to pulse with life, its market a colorful sea of lanterns. But all were oblivious to the chaos that would soon descend upon them.

***