Horizon of War Series

Chapter 201: Curtain Call

Curtain Call

Western Barricades

The white burning sands gas had dissipated, leaving only thin trails of a choking, acrid stench. Its absence acted like a signal. The fanatics, led by one of Andras' brothers, launched a renewed assault on the western entrance. With a furious push, they forced the barricades aside, widening the gap. A wave of righteous fury surged through them as they poured into the breach, torches in one hand and swords in the other.

"Salvation! Salvation!" they chanted in unison as they charged into the defenders' line.

The brother in black climbed over the barricade and shouted, "The Living Saint is watching! Take it! Salvation is in your enemy’s blood!"

His voice rallied the fanatics further, who swung their swords or thrust their spears with fearsome determination. Blind courage made up for their lack of skill, and when their brave but clumsy attempts failed, they hurled themselves forward, clutching knives or weapons they could find. Their faces twisted with wild enthusiasm, eyes blazing with the desperate hope of salvation—for the loved ones they had already lost or those still clinging to life, yearning for the Saint's gentle, healing hand.

The shrieks and cries of women and young boys in their ranks pierced the air, adding to the madness. Their screams of encouragement and chants drove the column forward, transforming it into a stampede. There was no sense of order, and soon many died from being crushed, unable to breathe as they were pushed from all sides and trapped within the crowd. Bodies fell, trampled beneath the crush of unforgiving feet.

Yet even this animalistic assault was not enough. The defenders’ column fought on like madmen, unflinching despite the odds. They delivered puncturing wounds, deep slashes, and severed limbs like butchers carving meat. There was no remorse or guilt, only vengeance to serve and more men to kill. They stepped back only because of the growing piles of bodies they had slain.

The true killer, however, was the bolts in the dark. Crossbowmen and cranequiniers wielding improved designs unleashed a relentless rain of steel against the onslaught. They spent an enormous stockpile of bolts to hold the line.

Many could have been saved with proper care, but within a stampeding horde, their fate was sealed. Like hundreds of other victims, they drew their final, laborious breaths, collapsing with bolts protruding from their bodies, only to be crushed beneath the relentless press of their allies.

Before long, the ground grew slick with blood, and the air thickened with the stench of iron, guts, and piss. Despite the darkness and dim illumination, it became clear to everyone that the charge had claimed more lives among themselves than the defenders. The assault began to falter. The relentless bolts had done their grim work, leaving the mass thinned and reduced to a sea of broken bodies.

While the front of the assault struggled to grapple with the brutal reality, the situation at the rear was entirely different. There, the remaining four thousand fanatics were still in high spirits. Darkness had shielded them from the bloody carnage and the horrific demise of several hundred of their comrades. Worse, their impatience was growing.

The crowd had heard of the salvation promised at the front, and rumors that the Living Saint was watching them. This belief elated them beyond measure. They were eager, almost ecstatic, to take part in the attack. Their chants rose louder and louder, but it wasn’t enough. They yearned for action, pushing and shoving in their frenzy, completely unaware that their impatience was causing the deaths of their brothers at the front.

Blissfully ignorant of the stampede and the death of so many, they wore bright, eager expressions, their jubilant chants rising unwavering amidst the sea of torches. So, when a sudden, brilliant white light broke through the darkness, illuminating the area in an otherworldly glow, the crowd erupted in euphoria, convinced that the Living Saint herself had descended among them.

“It’s the Living Saint’s Blessing!” someone shouted.

“Your Holiness!” others called.

The fanatics fell to their knees en masse, arms stretched toward the direction of the light, ignoring the fact that it came from the defenders’ encampment. Their faces were lit with awe and joy, their voices trembling with reverence. Some wept openly, while others clutched their chests as though feeling the Saint’s presence within them.

But instead of a beautiful choir, a strange sound emerged from the opposite side.

"Hrrruuuummm..."

"Whee-oooh..."

"Yiii-oooii..."

From the direction of the woodlands, a low, reverberating hum cut through the air like a living presence. Its guttural tone seemed to rise from the very earth, a deep vibration that resonated in their guts and rattled their resolve. They had never heard anything like it.

"What is that?" one muttered to another, but not even the most zealous had an answer. The sound was too bizarre to explain.

Then, all of a sudden, the hum turned into a high, piercing melody that shattered the night.

The fanatics quivered, their chests tightening with uncertainty, and nothing could have prepared them for what came next. Hundreds of arrows shrieked through the air, streaking toward their exposed position, illuminated and bathed in light. Within moments, the sickening thuds of arrows piercing flesh echoed across their lines, and pained screams quickly blanketed the area. The surprise attack and sudden deaths of so many turned the crowd into frightened animals.

Primal fear took hold. The crimson blood that gushed from their fallen comrades had shattered their beliefs. Worse, the brilliant illumination forced them to witness the full horrors of war, ironically the very spectacle they had blindly craved before. Routed, they fled in all directions, avoiding the woods and the camp.

The woodlands were now lit with lanterns. Those who dared to look caught sight of men clad in fur and leather, their rugged outerwear concealing the faint glint of ringmail beneath. Their voices roared out with raw, powerful war cries.

With precision honed by years of guarding their flocks against marauding wolves and the predators of the great plains, the nomadic archers continued to rain down accurate shots from their recurve bows. As the fanatics’ column collapsed, Belgutei launched his general attack.

Having sung throat-singing praises to their khan and brimming with vigor, their warriors took to the field. The thousand-strong force, led by Belgutei, had waited patiently in the forest for this ambush. Their signal to strike had been the brilliant white light.

As they joined the fray, they immediately noticed that the light from the camp was capable of moving, guiding them, and showing exactly where to aim and strike.

"Lansius Khan has shown us the light," Belgutei shouted in jest despite the carnage, prompting laughter from his ranks even amid the opening of the fight.

As if things couldn't get any better, Lord Lansius sent his fresh main army out of camp. Marching in order, with bugles blaring and swords and armor gleaming under the bright light, it was clear that the main counterattack had begun.

"Brothers! The Sky watches our fight," Belgutei's voice thundered through the air. He raised his sword high before pointing it toward the scattered enemy. "Now, drive them into the earth!"

His warriors' expressions turned savage, their eyes gleaming like Great Plains wolves as they dove into the panicked foes, cleaving the routed thousands in two. Together with the Shogunate's main army, their joint maneuver crushed any chance of regrouping, trapping no fewer than a thousand for capture. The Khan had led them to another glorious victory.

***

Lansius

Standing on top of the wooden platform attached to the palisade walls, Lansius observed the deployment of the massive, human-sized gemstone that they had raided from Cascasonne's Great Hall. It was one of House Bengrieve's heirlooms. Certainly, the steward and castle staff had strongly opposed its removal, but they ultimately bowed to Sir Stan and Lansius' wishes.

To Lansius, this was a military operation, and even an artifact of such magnitude paled in significance compared to the ongoing battle.

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Installing the gemstone on the hastily constructed wooden platform had been no easy task. Castle craftsmen had been employed to help with the work. Using ropes and pulleys, they hoisted the large and heavy object into place. When the work was finally complete, the illumination it produced was staggering. The light emitted from it flooded the entire area with a beam of bright white light, enabling the nomads to begin their deadly attack.

Just how many lumens does it produce...?

He had first encountered this type of gemstone during his stay in Toruna, though in much smaller and more hidden forms. Later, on his visit to Cascasonne, he saw this exact gemstone in the Great Hall—one of many wonders that mesmerized him. Yet he knew a dwarven artifact was far beyond his means. It was an object worth more than gold, and most were probably heirlooms.

This was why Lansius fondly recalled his inner joy when Ingrid gifted him the small gemstone of light, which became his House's first dwarven artifact, now proudly mounted on their airship.

This crystal-shaped gemstone initially acted like a floodlight, scattering a soft glow across the field. However, Ingrid, who stood atop the wooden platform aided by several men, quickly gained mastery of it. She was able to tune it into a more focused beam, functioning like a spotlight.

The ability to control the light's focus allowed Lansius and his staff not only to observe but also to give directions, influencing the battle from afar. Now, the continuous beam of light was guiding the nomads and their main army toward key positions and troubled spots on the battlefield.

This single device had effectively turned the tide of the battle. From the start, it had allowed the nomadic archers to showcase their full worth against foes many times their number, thinning their ranks and breaking their wills before the footmen entered the fight.

Lansius saw that his men and staff, like Sir Michael, were mesmerized by it. Even Sir Omin had left his logistical camp to witness the light. Feeling he had seen enough, Lansius climbed down the wooden planks on the palisade. With his four guards flanking him, he headed to the center of the camp, where he had spotted Audrey with her guards and entourage.

The baroness was wrapped in warm fur clothing, standing tall, her face softly illuminated by the lantern carried by her guards. Next to her stood Arryn and Tanya, both clad in new garments.

"My Lord," they greeted in unison as Lansius approached.

"Why are you here? You should be in the tent," Lansius asked tenderly, his gaze moving between Audrey, Arryn, and Tanya.

"No gratitude for my arrow?" Audrey replied playfully.

Lansius chuckled, then turned to his guards. "Give us some space."

Without hesitation, the guards directed the entourage to step away, giving the family some privacy.

Lansius turned quickly to Arryn and Tanya, who remained quiet. "Mother, I hope this hasn’t frightened you."

"I saw you fight. Are you hurt?" Arryn asked.

"It’s nothing; the guards keep me safe," Lansius reassured her.

Arryn nodded, wrapping her arms around herself, her nervous smile betraying the tension she tried to hide. Tanya added, "Brother, we’re okay. If you have important matters to attend to, please don’t worry about us."

Lansius smiled at her. "I wish you were still three years younger so I could pat your head."

Tanya smirked happily, seemingly unperturbed by the war. Lansius noticed that Audrey had wisely kept them away from the carnage. Here, in front of the command tents and under heavy guard with sturdy shields, they were safe. Even a beast-kin guard stood ready, her sole responsibility being to protect Audrey and the family. The fact that the beast-kin didn’t jump to his defense showed she understood her assignment.

"So, how’s the plan going?" Audrey asked.

"As you can see, it’s working," Lansius replied, his gaze drifting toward the white light.

Arryn and Tanya watched the white light with wide-eyed reverence, its radiance seeming almost unnatural against the dark skies. The mother clutched her daughter slightly closer and murmured, "It’s like the sun..."

Tanya nodded, then turned to Lansius, who seemed curious. "I saw this light in the castle corridors and halls, but I never thought... it could do this."

"Frankly, I’m surprised too," Lansius said, his tone reassuring. "I didn’t expect it to be this powerful."

A brief pause settled over them before Audrey asked, "Are our enemies routed?"

"Yes," Lansius confirmed firmly, much to his family’s relief.

"Veni, Vidi, Vici," Audrey said proudly, quoting what Lansius had taught her on their journey.

Her words made Lansius snort in amusement. "I only hope Bengrieve doesn’t charge me for the chandelier repairs."

"I doubt it. He’s reasonable and not stingy with money. Otherwise, he’d have already asked us about that salt debt," Audrey replied.

Lansius heaved a sigh but nodded. Despite all their suspicions, Bengrieve was reasonable. Moreover, he had never raised a sword against him and had delivered on his promise to get Lansius' family out of Arvena. Lansius knew they were likely taken as hostages, a guarantee of his loyalty, but even he employed similar tactics in his Shogunate. To blame Bengrieve would be like the pot calling the kettle black.

Just then, the castle gate connected to their camp opened, allowing tens of cavalry to emerge, fully armored. Two of them carried lanterns casting bright white light, likely powered by smaller gemstones like the one they had mounted.

"Cascasonne is indeed rich in artifacts," Audrey commented as if reading Lansius’ thoughts.

"I’m tempted to take it over and loot it myself," Lansius joked.

"And I know how bad you are with temptations," Audrey quipped.

The two chuckled, with Arryn and Tanya smiling nervously at their exchange.

"My Lord," one of his guards called out, "Sir Stan is heading this way. I'll have him to stop and continue on foot."

"Yes, do what you must, but avoid any incident," Lansius instructed. Then, turning to his family, he added, "You’d best return to the tent. There’s nothing good to witness on the battlefield."

"Indeed," Tanya exclaimed, turning to Audrey. "My Lady, we can’t let the baby in your belly see such sad sights."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Audrey nodded readily, turning to Lansius. "Take care. I’ll wait for you in the tent."

"Don’t stay up for me; make sure you get some sleep," Lansius said to her.

As his family departed, Lansius waited for Sir Stan, who dismounted and approached.

"Lord Shogun," Sir Stan called with newfound confidence. He looked at the white light and mumbled, "Ain't it a beautiful ray? Never thought it could be used like that."

"Sir Stan, you’re in full harness. Do you intend to join the fight?" Lansius asked.

"Indeed, I do."

"It’s an honor to have you join, but I can assure you it’s not necessary. The nomadic allies and my main army are already dominating the battlefield."

"I’m not heading west," the baronet explained. "I’ll be going east. I believe your plan could use an extra distraction."

"I see," Lansius said, pausing in thought before murmuring, "That would indeed be helpful."

The baronet, as tall as Sir Harold but with a leaner build, smirked. "Gratitude for the opportunity. I just can’t let the Korelians hog all the glory, you know?"

Lansius found it amusing and turned to the horse—a powerful breed with a broad chest, intelligent gaze, strong legs, and a coat that gleamed like polished obsidian. Sir Stan’s squire stood beside it, adjusting the reins with care. "I don’t recognize that horse," Lansius remarked.

"It’s Bengrieve’s warhorse. She’s restless, and I think it’s a good reason to borrow her for a stretch," Sir Stan replied.

***

East Side

Everyone allied to House Bengrieve was well aware of its extensive collection of dwarven artifacts. The House’s fascination with relics from the old continent was nothing new and had long been regarded as one of their more extravagant pitfalls. But such pursuits were often dismissed as harmless distractions from the labyrinthine politics of the court. After all, costly hobbies was all too common among nobles, and this was one of the least harmful and least notorious. Compared to some of the vile excesses that happened behind closed doors, it was even considered tame.

Since he was young, Lord Bengrieve had shown a fascination akin to that of his father and grandfather. He sponsored expeditions and maintained cordial relations with explorers of the old world; at first from his own allowances, and later from his inheritance. Yet, for all their allure and exorbitant cost, dwarven artifacts rarely offered practical benefits.

Despite the legends of their durability, six thousand years of abandonment had rendered most tools, devices, and even magical gemstones broken and inert. If he didn’t know better, Sir Stan might have assumed that the Grand Gemstone of Light, which Lansius used spectacularly in this battle, was the House’s crowning achievement. It was one of the few artifacts that made up a small list of functional relics.

However, after learning about the flame-bursting weapons, even Sir Stan grew skeptical. Just how much more was hidden, even to them, Bengrieve's most trusted?

The horse neighed, pulling him back from his thoughts. His eyes darted left and right as the night breeze brushed his face. With a single firm thought, Sir Stan activated his dwarven gemstone. A gentle surge of power spread through his body, filling him with warmth and vigor. But the most important enhancement was his eyesight. His eyes now glowed a dim gold, allowing him to see clearly in the darkness.

Among the relics discovered, gemstones like this were the only ones that cavaliers like him truly cared about. Occasionally, explorers struck gold, finding one still sealed inside a dwarven storage. The one he wore was one of those, a fully functional dwarven gemstone miraculously intact despite the ravages of time.

Cousin Bengrieve had told him that there were several grades of personal gemstones. The lesser ones had only a healing effect, something the dwarves had issued to help their people survive accidents. Above those were the dual-function gemstones, which granted both healing and strength, allowing the dwarves to evacuate themselves in emergencies.

Even these dual-function gemstones, known as gemstones of strength, were rare. But there were higher-grade ones. For the dwarves who lived underground, it was natural for them to desire the ability to see in the dark. Even with the availability of gemstones of light, they were nothing compared to the ability to see in the dark directly.

For him this gemstone was even more special. The explorer Stan had sponsored on a whim—the one who found it—was none other than Hannei. The sum Toruna paid allowed her to leave behind the perilous business for good. Yet that path also revealed her identity to Bengrieve. It was a sad story, one that Sir Stan tried to mend.

Now, the strength embedded in the gemstone allowed him to guide his riders unopposed, approaching the enemy camp from an unguarded route. The horse neighed again as if wanting something, prompting Sir Stan to smirk. He reached toward the animal's left side. There was a gap in her barding for his hand to reach inside.

He tapped it, aware of what Bengrieve had embedded in the harnesses, and said, "Come, it's nighttime. Let's see what you’ve got."

The large intricate gemstone on the harness, positioned near the beast's heart, emitted a gentle strength. The horse was familiar with its energy, unafraid as her vision sharpened in the dark. She could see clearly now and felt the surge of energy coursing through her. Her steps were light, her stamina seemingly endless.

With no darkness veiling her eyesight, the horse ran confidently, navigating the maze-like camp defenses with ease and guiding their small party of mounted knights behind her. They evaded patrols and confused groups of sentries who could barely see and were too slow to react.

Soon, they spotted what was likely a command tent, guarded by a column of rear guards who appeared to be in disarray, swords and spears clutched tightly as they tried to fend off an attack. Sir Stan turned to his knights behind him. "We found them. On my lead!"

They all closed their visors, intent on unleashing destruction. But destruction was already underway in the camp. Dozens of men had pinned down the rear guards with a volley of crossbow bolts. A group had nearly aimed at Sir Stan and his knights, but a beast-like creature recognized him, smirked wide, and waved off the crossbowmen, halting their attack.

It was clear that the Lord Shogun had already delivered his firm fist upon their enemy.

***