Vandades City was the largest commercial trade city in the Madras Duchy and its greatest hub for the distribution of goods and merchandise. This was mainly thanks to its truly excellent geographic location — it sat at the crossroads where routes from all directions converged. Heading south led to the Andinaque Kingdom, north to the Northland, east to the Falker Duchy and Sabaji Duchy, and west to the Madras Duchy's capital and administrative center, Shalisco City. With its conveniently connected roads and transportation, Vandades City was hailed as the commercial jewel of the Madras Duchy.
They now had to stay in Vandades City for two days — first to gather intelligence, and second to let their horses rest. Having pushed them two hundred li a day for five straight days, the Northland horses serving as mounts for the mounted archers were nearing their limits.
Lorist rented a modest merchant caravan campsite on the southern outskirts of Vandades City and settled the mounted archers in. With the miscellaneous arrangements left to Pete, Lorist took Pat and five guards into the city. They needed to find a decent inn to stay at.
The last time Lorist had passed through on the way back to the Northland with Ovikis's caravan, they had only rested for a day outside the city walls. Sedkamp had gone in to resupply with grain and provisions before they hurried on their way. This time was Lorist's first time entering the city. Compared to
The Perfumed Beauty Grand Hotel was situated on the South Street of Vandades City. It was a famous high-end establishment and the preferred lodging of passing nobles and great merchants. Despite its steep prices, it was always packed with guests and never short of distinguished visitors.
Lorist rented four suites in the annex wing. After taking a bath, he sent two guards to notify Pete of his lodging in the city. Then, with Pat and four guards, he went downstairs, claimed two tables in the inn's dining hall, and ordered a meal. He listened intently to the conversations of the surrounding diners while enjoying his dinner.
After listening for quite a while, Lorist was quite disappointed. Although the merchants dining there did discuss the road to the Andinaque Kingdom being blocked, their talk was mostly complaints and speculation about when the blockade would be lifted. The rest was all about rerouting and the trading of their goods.
He ate and listened, and when he occasionally glanced up, he noticed Pat across from him staring blankly at something behind him. Lorist was taken aback. He turned to look and smiled.
Behind him was a small parlor-like sitting room, filled with lavishly dressed women. Guests of the inn would periodically wander in, pick out a woman they fancied, negotiate a price, and then escort her back to their room for the night.
"Hehe, got your heart fluttering? If you want one, go ahead and pick. Just be back before eleven at night." Lorist glanced at the enormous hourglass sitting on the inn's front counter and said, "It's only seven now. You've still got four hours — more than enough time..."
Pat's face reddened. "No, I was just looking... taking in the sights..."
"Really don't want one?"
"No. I need to stay by your side, My Lord." Pat shook his head firmly.
"It's perfectly safe here. We're just a party of traveling merchants — nobody knows who I am. Besides, for merchants to come to an inn and not look for women would actually draw more attention. Look at those four over there — they're staring just as hard as you are. If you don't want a woman, then come out with me. I want to buy some detailed maps of the road ahead. Give each of the four a gold coin and let them find women on their own. It'll make our group look more normal," Lorist said.
Pat turned and handed a gold coin to each of the four guards at the other table. The unexpected windfall left the guards flushed with excitement. Pat warned them not to slip up and let anything slip, and reminded them to send the women away before eleven — no overnight stays. The four guards nodded vigorously, but with Lorist still present they were too embarrassed to rush off and make their selections just yet.
Taking Pat with him, Lorist left the inn and strolled through two night markets. At a bookstore, he purchased two travel journals and several maps. What surprised him was that the bookstore actually had fortification maps of the Lichitana Fortress for sale. The shop owner was entirely nonchalant about it. "A while back, Grand Duke Madras ordered the borders and roads closed, refusing entry to refugees. Suddenly the Lichitana Fortress became a hot topic. All sorts of armchair strategists came in to buy a copy so they could gather friends and debate at length how to defend it, how to storm it — perfectly normal, really."
"This fortification map was directly reproduced from the archive records. It's been selling like hotcakes, sir. Why not pick one up for yourself?" the bookstore owner pitched.
"Alright, I'll take one then. I'll study it on the way back and figure out how to capture this fortress," Lorist said.
"Actually, a fortress castle is just stone and mortar. Real defense depends on the men who hold it. As long as our duchy's Iron Guards Corps stands, this fortress can never be taken." The bookstore owner rolled up the map and handed it to Lorist, speaking with unmistakable pride.
Lorist nodded, lost in thought.
He made his inquiries about the military readiness and logistical supplies behind the border blockade — casual, inconspicuous, the sort of idle questions a worried noble might ask.
In the eyes of the inn's staff and the other merchants, Lorist was nothing more than an ordinary minor noble from the Kingdom of Redilis, fretting over how to reroute his way home.
On the third day, Lorist checked out and returned to the southern suburb where the horse archer camp was established.
That evening, inside the command tent, Lorist summoned Piet and Pat to lay out the next leg of their journey.
"...We set out tomorrow morning, heading east along the road toward the Duchy of Farkel. That stretch is hilly country — the terrain is complicated, and I've heard bandits used to lurk there in the past. But with the border sealed off, a great number of merchant caravans have been rerouted through these mountain paths, and the Duchy of Madras has dispatched a battalion of garrison troops to secure the road. Apparently there hasn't been a single report of bandits in the past month."
"The small mountain village we're heading for is about half a day's ride away. From what I've gathered, a garrison company is stationed there because not far from the village there's a fork. One path cuts south through a vast stretch of forest to reach these hills. At the base of the hills it splits into two smaller trails — one leads to the Lichitana Fortress, and the other goes over the hill to the shore of White Egret Lake."
"We have two options. The first is to cross White Egret Lake. The opposite shore belongs to the Kingdom of Andinak, though whether we can find a ferry is another matter — over a hundred men plus five large wagons is no small load. Fortunately, all these paths can accommodate four-wheeled carriages. The other option is to force our way out through the Lichitana Fortress."
"As you can see, the Lichitana Fortress is built on Mount Lieden. To the west stretches the Lieden mountain range all the way to the sea — that route is impassable. To the east of the fortress, down the slope, runs the main highway connecting the two kingdoms. About five hundred meters from the castle there are three small stone hillocks the locals call Bread Hill — bare on top, looking just like three freshly baked round loaves. I've heard they've been turned into military encampments now, with a full battalion of Iron Guards Corps soldiers stationed there. Together with the Lichitana Fortress, they bracket the highway from both sides, controlling the road between them."
Below Bread Hill stretched White Egret Lake for nearly a hundred li. The lake served as the natural border between the Kingdom of Andinak and the Duchy of Madras, but aside from the small trail I'd pointed out earlier—the one that crossed over the low hills to reach the lakeshore—the rest of the shoreline was nothing but swamps and primeval forest. We hadn't been able to find any second path leading to the lake.
Now the five-hundred-meter stretch of open ground and highway between Bread Hill and Mount Lieden had been packed with watchtowers and wooden palisades, sealing off the entire border line. According to what Pat had learned last time, the military camp on Bread Hill had ten siege ballistae deployed—the same type as those garrisoned at the Lichitana Fortress, standard-issue weapons with a proper range of two to three hundred meters. Even if the watchtowers and palisades in the middle were destroyed, the crossfire from both elevated positions could still shut down this highway completely.
So unless we had absolutely no other choice, we should not try to break through here—it would mean accepting heavy casualties. When we reached that small mountain village around midday tomorrow, we'd carefully assess the patrol density and see how alert they were about that fork in the road, whether we might slip through unnoticed. If that was truly impossible, we'd have to force our way through, abandon all our surplus wagons and baggage at the lakeshore, and swim across the lake with our mounts…
…
By midday, Lorence and his company arrived at the small mountain village. After presenting the Turbury family crest to the garrison soldiers, they were granted permission to stop and rest. Three merchant caravans were already parked in the open area in front of the village, taking a break before resuming their journeys after lunch.
Pete found a clearing and directed the horse archers to start setting up cookfires and preparing meals. Villagers from the small mountain settlement came streaming over, peddling their home-brewed wheat beer and homemade snacks. It seemed the Duchy of Madras's border blockade had brought an unexpected boom to this little village—its residents had been earning good money from passing caravans by selling food, along with mountain herbs, hunted game, and wild catches. Every face wore a contented smile.
After lunch and another hour of rest, Lorence ordered everyone to pack up and prepare to depart. It was a signal—if no opportunity presented itself, they would have to forcibly break through the checkpoint at the fork ahead, which was guarded by a small squad of garrison soldiers. Everyone needed to be ready for combat.
Just as they were packing their gear, a commotion erupted at the village gate. Then a small squad of imperious-looking garrison soldiers marched in, escorting seven or eight mercenaries bound up as tightly as rice dumplings.
Pat walked over, took one look, and his face drained of color. He spun around and hurried back to Lorence's side. "My lord, this is bad—they've captured
"What? What did you say?" Lorence froze. He turned to look, and there they were—the figures surrounded by the crowd, trussed up like zakkū—Redi and Jim. Blood was still streaming from Jim's shoulder; it was clear they had put up a fierce fight before being captured. The other men in mercenary garb were all wounded as well.
The mid-captain of the garrison troops stationed in the small mountain village stumbled out of a wooden house, cursing under his breath. His clothes were disheveled, and two fresh red love bites were visible on his exposed chest and neck—clearly the arrival of these prisoners had interrupted him in the middle of something pleasant.
The mid-captain elbowed his way through the crowd of gawkers, exchanged a few words with the escorting squad leader, then ordered Redi, Jim, and the rest of the prisoners locked in a stone building that served as a makeshift jail.
Lorence stepped forward and asked with feigned curiosity, "Hey, Captain—what's the story with these prisoners? Are you in the habit of rounding up slaves?"
Even if he wasn't a noble of the duchy, he was still a viscount at the end of the day—not something a mere mid-captain could compare to. The captain hurriedly straightened his uniform and replied, "My salutations to you, Lord Viscount. These men were caught sneaking across White Egret Lake into the duchy in violation of the Grand Duke's transit prohibition."
"How are you going to deal with them? Sell them to slave traders? They look like sturdy fellows—should fetch a decent price," Lorence said.
"Damn these nobles—moonlighting as slave traders on the side," the mid-captain muttered inwardly before answering aloud, "We don't deal in slave trading. People caught crossing the border like this are interrogated tonight and then beheaded as a public example. Look, my lord—those heads hanging from the trees to the east of the village? Every one of them belonged to someone who tried to cross illegally…"
It was only then that Lorence noticed a large tree on the eastern edge of the village with no fewer than thirty severed heads dangling from its branches…
"What a shame—I was prepared to offer a handsome sum," Lorence said, putting on the disappointed look of a man whose deal had fallen through.
"Forgive me, Lord Viscount, but this is the Grand Duke's order and we can only obey. I'll take my leave now, and I wish you a safe journey." The mid-captain saluted and walked away.
Lorence returned with a dark expression and said to Pat and Pete, "Think of something—find an excuse to stay behind. This afternoon, scope out the village's defenses. Tonight we move in, wipe them out, and rescue Redi, Jim, and the others."
Pete said, "My lord, why not act now?"
Lorence shook his head. "There are too many people right now. Look around—there are five or six merchant caravans. We can't guarantee that word won't get out. If we make a move, the guard garrisons in the area will quickly receive the alert and surround us. We only have a small squad, and there's a full battalion of guards responsible for this road. I'm not going to risk losing nearly a hundred of you just to save a few people.
If we wait until tonight, the merchant caravans will be gone. Since Vanades is only half a day's journey from here, no one heading there or coming back will spend the night here. That way we can deal with the enemies here without alerting the garrisons elsewhere."
The house the mid-captain had gone to belonged to the most beautiful woman in the small mountain village—a young widow. There had been quite a few young men in the village paying court to her, but once the mid-captain arrived, none of them stood a chance.
Just having his mood ruined by those smuggled mercenaries, he had barely gotten started when he heard someone hammering on the door again.
"What now?!" the mid-captain roared. His little brother, which had been standing at attention just moments ago, shriveled up in fright once more.
"Captain, that viscount who was just speaking to you—when he was mounting his horse to leave, he accidentally fell off. It looks like he broke several bones. They can't go on. The viscount fainted from the pain, and his men have already gone to Vanades to fetch an apothecary. They're setting up camp in the village for now." The subordinate outside the door reported loudly.
"Ha ha, now that's what I call good news. Even that damned slave-trading viscount can have this kind of bad luck," the mid-captain said gleefully. "Tell them they can camp in the village, but they'd better behave. I'll go pay the viscount a visit tonight. Now get lost—don't bother me!"
He lowered his head and said to the flushed young widow beneath him, "Darling, use your little mouth to help me again..."
…