studiobondurri The Paladin of the Holy Kingdom, Part III: Act 4, Chapter 13
The Paladin of the Holy Kingdom, Part III: Act 4, Chapter 13
The Paladin of the Holy Kingdom, Part III: Act 4, Chapter 13
Chapter 13
“We’re not going to make it in time.”
“Carlos did offer to ride ahead and tie them up.”
There was a reason for Lugo to refuse that offer, though he wouldn’t give voice to it. Simply put, the ranchers were already at the point where they were willing to visit violence upon the royalists and they didn’t seem to appreciate the fact that their actions would affect the entire conservative faction. If the royalists bled here, then the entire Holy Kingdom would bleed next.
“The only way to tie up that many soldiers is with the threat of physical force,” Lugo said. “Our plan to leverage the authority of the Holy Order won’t work if fighting breaks out. Besides, Miss Baraja is on the wrong side of that army. We should confirm her safety before taking any actions that may put her at risk.”
That the Holy Order hadn’t come out was a bad sign. He couldn’t imagine them not noticing so many soldiers making their way through the city. Baraja should have had plenty of time to make her case before their arrival.
A few hundred metres from the coast, the Dancing Duchess was already anchored, but she hadn’t yet lowered any boats to send their reinforcements ashore. The royalist forces were advancing steadily up the beach, making better time than Lugo’s column which was still struggling through the mud a kilometre from the sea.
Technically, Lugo’s forces commanded a superior position. The royalists had given up the high ground in favour of preventing any landings. Additionally, fighting with one’s back to the sea might have been desirable for Merfolk, but not Humans.
Unfortunately, the tactical situation was more akin to a war game than a war. The probing raids and skirmishes that a Commander relied upon to discern an enemy’s strength were not an option when hostilities hadn’t been declared. Thus, the reasonable assumption would be that every unit on the field was of relatively uniform quality. If he were in the royalist Commander’s shoes, he would have decided that the conservative forces were desperate, delusional, or bluffing in the face of seven-to-one odds.
“We can still win,” Captain Guerrero said.
“I don’t doubt that we can,” Lugo said, “especially if those are just freshly conscripted reservists cobbled together into new companies. The problem is that, win or lose, engaging in hostilities carries a high risk of civil war. We are in no way ready for an open conflict and people across the country will suffer from the chaos that ensues.”
The Captain seemed to have no answer to that. As excellent as he might be on the battlefield, he was uneducated and inexperienced in more far-reaching matters.
“We don’t have many options,” Lugo admitted, “and none of them are ideal. In the royalists’ eyes, we are at a massive disadvantage and that perception can only be overturned if we demonstrate our prowess. Of course, doing that will start a civil conflict. The Dancing Duchess doesn’t look like she’s trying to land her forces, so we can assume an advantageous position while we wait for Miss Baraja to show up. I can use the opportunity to fish some information out of our opponents.”
“How?”
“By speaking with them,” Lugo replied. “They won’t attack anyone bearing a flag of parley.”
“What about callin’ ‘em out for a martial contest?” Captain Carlos asked.
Lugo shook his head.
“The Royal Army isn’t bound by chivalric traditions, but they’ll talk to us to deliver an ultimatum, at least.”
After the two Captains reluctantly agreed to his proposal, they positioned their forces above the beach where the royalists were guarding the shore. Sir Ibarra and Captain Carlos accompanied him as he rode to a spot two hundred metres from the Royal Army’s lines. Fifteen minutes passed before a set of riders rode out to meet him.
“Elano Horta,” he said in a low voice as the riders approached, “plus two Knights.”
“That guy any good?” Captain Carlos asked.
“I don’t believe he distinguished himself while he served in the army,” Lugo replied. “Nor does he have any other notable martial achievements. He was probably dispatched to Lloyds as an administrator back when it changed hands.”
“Then what the hell is he doing out here? Does that mean they have a joke of a Commander?”
“He’s probably coming out as a negotiator,” Lugo replied. “That allows them to hide who their Commander is so we can’t plan according to what we know of him.”
The banner of the Holy Kingdom waved in the ocean breeze as Lord Elano and his party closed the distance. Normally, such an image would command the attention and respect of all who saw it. Now, however, Lugo could only think that the flag of his kingdom was being sullied.
“Lord Lugo,” the somewhat effeminate man eased his mount to a halt opposite him, “fancy meeting you here.”
“My thoughts precisely, Lord Elano,” Lugo replied. “For what reason have you and the gentlemen over there come to greet us?”
“You and your forces are to stand down and submit themselves to justice.”
“Screw that,” Captain Carlos spat. “We already know what your ‘justice’ looks like.”
Lord Elano’s eyelid twitched at the coarse interruption, but he didn’t shift his gaze.
“Let’s be reasonable, Lord Lugo. We won’t allow your friends offshore to land and your three companies cannot hope to win against five thousand. There is no dishonour in sparing the lives of your men in the face of such impossible odds.”
“On what grounds do you impede us?” Lugo asked, “We don’t answer to House Horta. For that matter, what right do you have to field the Royal Army against us?”
“Shouldn’t it be obvious?”
“Humour me. Better yet, let’s hear it straight from your Commander.”
The waves washed over the shore as they patiently awaited Lord Elano’s response. He looked over his shoulder once before visibly firming up.
“This is not a negotiation, Lord Lugo. I’ve said what I came to say. You are free to make your choice, but I pray that you won’t force your men to a senseless death.”
Lord Elano wheeled his mount and galloped back to the Royal Army’s lines.
“Well, that was interesting,” Sir Ibarra said.
“Wasn’t it?” Lugo smiled slightly.
“Was a good way to waste a half hour,” Captain Carlos frowned at the receding nobleman’s back, “but, aside from that, it seemed pointless.”
Lugo scanned the Royal Army’s formations, but he couldn’t make out any individual details. They were arrayed to prevent the Dancing Duchess from landing any troops, which spoke volumes of how little of a threat they perceived Lugo’s forces to be. Once he committed the Royal Army’s positions and company composition to memory, he wheeled his mount back around and they returned to their lines at a leisurely pace.
“Lord Elano made a demand,” he said, “but provided no justification for it. He wouldn’t have hesitated to do so if the Royal Army was here to explicitly deal with us.”
“In other words,” Sir Ibarra said, “he was trying to bluff us into giving up.”
“He probably expected us to withdraw in the face of his show of force,” Lugo nodded. “I can imagine him easily convincing the army to array themselves against an ‘unknown threat’. Speaking of which, did he claim we only had three companies or was I hearing things?”
“Ah,” Captain Carlos said, “that’s ‘cause they can only see three companies.”
“What?”
“Can you see ‘em?”
With a furrow on his brow, Lugo sent his gaze to the gentle slopes along the shore. The lighting should have been good enough to clearly show their entire force, but he could only see the infantry at the core of the formation. His hand went to the spyglass in his right saddlebag, but he still couldn’t spot any of Carlos’ ranchers even with the device’s assistance.
“What in the world...”
Captain Carlos’ only response was an irreverent smirk.
It was only when they nearly reached their lines that some of the ranchers reappeared. They hadn’t moved at all from where they had been placed in the wings.
“Sir Ibarra,” Lugo said, “have you ever seen the like?”
“I can’t say I have, Lord Lugo.”
Ranchers were something like light cavalry and light cavalry was often employed as a fast scouting force, but he had never heard of the notion being conveyed so literally. Captain Guerrero came forward to meet them a few dozen metres from the front of the infantry line.
“So,” he said, “what’s the order?”
“It was more and less complicated than we thought,” Lugo replied. “The royalists refused to give any justification for the Royal Army’s presence.”
“Why?”
“Because they can’t,” Sir Ibarra told him. “They’ve gone as far as they can without knowingly doing anything illegal.”
“They’re not here for us?”
Lugo shook his head.
“They would have said so if they were. My guess is that they were on the way to the wall as per our original speculation. It was us breaking camp to rush after them that caused them to stop at Lloyds. From there, the royalists in the city probably fed their suspicions to the point where they were willing to get in our way.”
“Where does that leave us?” Captain Guerrero asked, “I have no issues with dispatching royalist forces, but now they’re using ignorant soldiers against us. Wasting our time and resources dealing with that only works to our true enemies’ advantage.”
“It’s yet another layer of the royalists’ strategy,” Lugo said. “They know that as well as we do. Even if they can’t get the army to fight, they can still effectively keep us in check with it. If we advance, the army will respond with force due to their preconceptions.”
Captain Guerrero turned his head to look up the coast. Two kilometres away, the walls of Lloyds rose above the countryside. Beyond them, the galleons could be seen manoeuvring in the port and soldiers continued to march in a long column out of the gate.
“The more I think about it,” the Captain said, “the more it seems they’re the ones buying time, not us.”
“Justice for the Holy Kingdom!”
“Justice for the Holy Kingdom!”
“Advance!”
Wait, what?
The entire conservative force marched forward, and Lugo’s companies had little choice but to comply or risk breaking the formation. Sir Ibarra sent a confused look in his direction and Lugo shifted his mount closer to Baraja.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m doing what must be done, Lord Lugo,” the Faceless One replied.
“You didn’t say anything about attacking them like this!”
“It’s probably not as bad as you think,” Saye said from across Baraja.
This is already the worst-case scenario, how is it anything but bad?
Ahead of him, the Royal Army’s lines drew closer. There were only five hundred metres between them, so the soldiers positioned to block a landing force from the Dancing Duchess were rushing to reform their lines against the rapidly closing conservative formation. Shouts from the army’s officers sounded through the air as they struggled to maintain order in the ranks.
Alright, I’ll give her that, but this is still going to be a bloodbath...wait, what in the gods’ names is going on?
At four hundred metres, the chaos in the Royal Army’s lines was evident. At three hundred metres, gaping holes started to open in the formation as a flood of soldiers fled back toward Lloyds. The army officers were still shouting their orders, but their efforts were plainly in vain.
“Hold!”
Baraja’s voice rang over the battlefield. Their ranks halted two hundred metres from what remained of the army’s lines. Shields already raised to receive their foe, the troops exchanged confused glances.
“Captain Guerrero.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“What’s left should be royalists, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I see,” the woman took a deep breath and sighed. “It’s too bad it’s come to this.”
The Faceless One nodded to the Captain. The Captain raised his hand.
“Draw!”
“Draw!” Captain Carlos and a score of Sergeants repeated the order down the line.
Hundreds of bows and crossbows were raised against the royalist lines. Lugo gripped his reins, knowing he could do nothing to stop them.
Is this right? How can they harbour so much conviction that they’re willing to slaughter their own people?
“Loose!”
A storm of quarrels and arrows arced through the air, their bodkin points glinting in the moonlight. Lugo’s cheek twitched as the hail of iron scythed into the troops. Not even masterwork breastplates fashioned from tempered steel seemed to matter as armsman and Knight alike fell under the onslaught.
“Draw!” Captain Guerrero commanded.
“That’s good enough, Captain,” Baraja said.
“Stand down!”
In front of them, the royalist forces were already decimated. Lugo wasn’t sure how, but it seemed that Baraja’s men had successfully targeted the royalist officers even at their distance. What remained of the enemy ranks were already joining the flight to the gate.
“Captain Carlos,” Baraja said, “cast a net. Interdict the entire area around Lloyds. Track down anyone that’s escaped ahead of you.”
“You got it.”
“Lord Lugo.”
“Hm?”
“I believe your men are better suited than mine at processing captives.”
Lugo nodded.
“It shouldn’t be a problem. Ibarra, see to the royalist survivors.”
“Yes, Lord Lugo.”
He returned his gaze to Baraja. The woman looked more weary than anything else.
“If you’re trying to prevent word of the battle from spreading,” he told her, “you’ll have to take care of those galleons, as well.”
“Ah, about that,” Baraja said. “They’re already being taken care of.”
Confused, Lugo looked over at the city harbour. To his surprise, the Dancing Duchess was alongside one of the royalist galleons and rowboats littered the water.
“Is that why you stopped by our ship first?”
“The royalist soldiers were mostly out here facing us,” the Faceless One replied. “It seemed like a good idea to take their ships while they were away.”
Lugo snorted and shook his head. Tales from far-off lands always seemed to glorify taking the initiative, but, to the people of the Holy Kingdom, doing so seemed all but suicidal. Maybe there was some truth to the notion.
A great cheer arose from the walls of Lloyds when they approached the city gate at dawn. Outside of the walls, the work camps were surrounded by citizens armed with makeshift weaponry and it looked like the deserter soldiers were helping them out. Upon entering the city, Lugo looked around silently at the scenes surrounding him. Somehow, things were running in good order despite no notable attempts at overall coordination.
“I expected just a bit more chaos,” Lugo said.
“I guess my words reached them, after all,” Baraja said.
“You spoke to them while you were in the city?”
“Some of them, but what I meant was that what I said back on the beach was heard in the city. Saye said I should try to reach as far as possible with my voice, so I did.”
What did that even mean? Reaching the soldiers on both sides of the beach was an impressive feat, but being heard in a city two kilometres away was...
“Impossible,” the word fell out of Lugo’s mouth.
“Hey,” Saye stopped to talk to some people on the side of the street, “did you hear a speech just now?”
“I did,” one of the spectators nodded. “We all did. You’ve come to restore justice to the Holy Kingdom, right?”
Impossible.
It was something that one might find in a strange fantasy world, not reality.
They made their way to the city harbour amidst the cheers and well wishes of the cityfolk. There, a blonde-haired man with a dusky tan approached them and offered a salute.
“Miss Baraja,” he said. “We pulled it off.”
“Did anyone escape?” Baraja asked.
“No, Ma’am.”
Out on the water, the royalist and Royal Army ensigns had already been removed and four of the galleons were anchored in a line blocking the harbour. Lugo scanned the wharf for captives, but it looked like they had been stowed away elsewhere.
“Now that you’ve come so far,” Lugo asked, “what do you plan on doing?”
He feared to hear what Duke Debonei had to say about everything that had happened. The worst part about it all was how powerless Lugo had been as the representative of the conservative faction.
“This is what everyone wants, isn’t it?” Baraja said, “Justice for the Holy Kingdom.”
The Faceless One’s address and declaration echoed through his mind. He was beginning to think that her definition of justice was a very different one from his.