Horizon of War Series-Chapter 216: Closer Than Blood

Closer Than Blood

Lansius

The stiffness in his neck and the clammy dampness beneath his doublet dragged Lansius awake. He shifted, his back aching from the padded chair where he’d slept. The study wasn’t particularly hot, but how he slept was likely the cause of his sweatiness. Blinking away the haze of sleep, he noticed a blonde girl in a blue dress sitting in his study. "Tanya?"

She turned from her book and smiled. "You’re awake, My Lord."

"Don’t call me that," he said, his voice still groggy. "We’re alone. Brother is more fitting."

Tanya’s lips brightened into a radiant smile. "I’m here to offer my gratitude for the gifts you bestowed upon me."

Lansius groaned dramatically like a child refusing chores. "Tanya," he called, half-pleading, "don’t be so formal with me. No one’s here."

Hearing that, she let out a soft chuckle. "Alright, then, brother. Gratitude for the gifts; they’re so nice and pretty."

"Now that’s better," Lansius declared as he stood and stretched to ease his stiff muscles.

Her smile lingered for a moment but soon faltered. Her eyes lowered, and a shadow of sadness clouded her face.

Noticing the shift, Lansius stepped closer, his brow furrowed with concern. "What’s the matter?"

"I... I’m thinking about Marc," she admitted, her voice wavered. Her gaze dropped further, betraying her worry.

Lansius moved to the table and poured two cups of water. "I’ve arranged for contacts in Arvena to search for Marc," he said gently. "I hope they can find him."

Tanya nodded eagerly, her face brightening. She took the goblet and sipped. Lansius did the same to quench his thirst.

"I worry about Marc too," he admitted as he sat beside her. "I wonder where he is right now."

"I heard the battle last year was won by the new King. That should mean Marc’s on the winning side... right?" Tanya asked, hesitating slightly.

Lansius nodded reassuringly. "Yes, that’s right. He’s on the winning side and should return to us safely."

"I’ll never give up hope on him," Tanya said but then hesitated. "Last year, I had given up on you. I feel truly blessed that you returned to us."

Lansius grinned, seizing the moment to lighten the mood. "Yes, I came to you at the head of a great army, leading knights and thousands of men. Don’t forget that important detail. And I rode a horse and married a pretty lady too."

Tanya laughed, her shoulders shaking. "Oh, brother, you make me so proud."

Her praise warmed Lansius. She meant so much to him that seeing her smile stirred something deep within him. Nothing felt more rewarding than repaying those who cared for you when you were just a sickly nobody. That was why he always looked for chances to pamper her, though never to spoil her.

Noticing the leather-bound book in her hand, he asked, "Anyway, how’s your study with Ingrid?"

"She’s kind to me, but I feel bad... I’m so slow at everything."

Lansius glanced at the book of fables and noticed an illustration of a knight battling a magical bear. "If you keep at it the way you worked at the wool shop, you’ll master it soon."

Her expression turned solemn. "It’s funny. A few years ago, we had to plant turnips, cabbages, and beans to survive. Now, I can study all day without worrying about food."

Lansius leaned closer. "Hold on to that feeling. That’s what makes you special. In time, you’ll serve many roles, and I hope you can become one of my confidants or even an advisor."

"Me? Your advisor?" Tanya’s eyes widened as she protested weakly. "That’s impossible. I’m barely educated and only know how to cook."

Lansius chuckled softly. "Aside from Audrey and Arryn, you’re the closest family I have. And more than ever, I’ll need my family to give me counsel from time to time."

Tanya’s eyes darted uncertainly, and her shoulders sagged beneath the unexpected weight of the words. "I don’t know what kind of counsel you need, but if I’m able to, I’ll give it my all."

Her determination touched Lansius. He owed much to Tanya. Without her, he might have done the unthinkable. They had been apart for three years, and though their bond was beginning to mend, a gap remained, stretched further by Lansius' newfound status.

Lansius knew that closing it would take effort from both of them. While he could shelter her and grant her freedom, he realized it would ultimately be irresponsible to keep her cloistered. For all his victories in war, the future held no guarantees. Thus, he felt it was better for her to choose her path, to climb the social ladder if she wished.

His role was to open doors for her, to give her the chances she needed. And perhaps one day, she could stand beside him as family and as an equal, not by obligation but by choice.

Lansius rose and gazed at her. "Come. The weather is nice, and the sun isn’t as harsh anymore. Let’s take a ride before supper."

"Ride to where?" Tanya asked as she stood to follow.

Lansius couldn’t help but find her reaction amusing. "You’ll share a horse with me. I believe I’ve already given you riding attire."

"Riding attire...?" Tanya repeated nervously, recalling one of the outfits that had recently appeared in her wardrobe.

...

After some assistance from the maids, Tanya was ready in her riding gear. Margo escorted her to the courtyard, where Lansius was waiting. The fine riding attire of Midlandia suited her well, and her golden hair made her look every bit a noblewoman.

Lansius extended his hand, which Tanya accepted, though she frowned slightly at the sight of the white horse.

"This one is the tamest we have," Lansius reassured her before mounting the saddle with practiced ease.

Two maids helped Tanya settle in the saddle in front of Lansius. She looked awkward and nervous, glancing back at him. "Is this alright?"

"Yes, that’s right. Hold onto the saddle pommel if you need to," Lansius said warmly, gently urging the horse forward.

"Oh, it’s moving," Tanya exclaimed, adjusting to the horse’s gentle rocking motion.

"Don’t fight it. Just follow the rhythm, or you’ll wear yourself out," he advised, then suddenly chuckled.

Tanya glanced back at him, curious. "Why are you laughing?"

"I just remembered the last time a blonde woman rode with me. You wouldn’t believe it, but she fell out from a tree."

She stared wide-eyed. "Really?"

"Yes. Her name is Felis. But let’s save that story for another time," Lansius said with a smirk. He lightly nudged the horse with his heels, and it trotted toward the open gatehouse. The guards there cheered for their Lord and the young lady riding with him.

As expected, ten SAR riders joined them as an escort, led by Sterling and another lieutenant.

At first, Tanya was tense, gripping the saddle tightly, but she soon relaxed and began to enjoy the ride. The western horizon stretched endlessly before them, and the white palfrey moved gracefully across the solid road. The sun hung low in the west, and the cool breeze was soothing against their faces.

The scene was serene, with the castle and city standing prominently behind them, gradually becoming smaller as they rode further.

As they slowed near a gentle hill, Tanya gazed around, her eyes scanning the landscape before she suddenly asked, "Is this all your land now, brother?"

Lansius hadn’t been expecting the question and let out a chuckle. "That makes me sound too rich. But yes, that’s true." He turned his gaze to the expanse, which stretched for miles to the north, west, and south.

"For one man to possess so much land..." Tanya’s voice faltered, and she shuddered lightly.

"Are you alright?" Lansius asked, his concern evident.

"It’s just... it’s breathtaking, to think you own all of this: lands, cities, and even castles," she said, her voice a mix of awe and fear.

Lansius appreciated her reflective nature. "Remember that feeling," he said, drawing her attention. "It’s a burden called responsibility; a noblesse oblige."

"A burden?" she echoed.

"Yes. Other nobles might see this and think it’s all for them to take. But a good man sees it as a duty. All this land isn’t for our House to profit from but a responsibility to make it better for everyone," Lansius explained, sharing his approach with her.

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Tanya nodded thoughtfully, her expression serious as she absorbed his words.

"I’ll use the money from these lands to build bridges and roads, improve water reservoirs, fix granaries, establish fire watch patrols, and fortify our defenses to ensure the region's safety."

Tanya took in everything he had said with quiet focus.

Lansius was pleased with her attention. "Let’s ride further before the sun sets. I need to get you used to horses."

"Get used to horses? Do you want me to learn to ride?" she asked, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

Lansius smiled. "I’m not forcing you, but if you can, it’ll be useful. Besides, it’s like a tradition. Most of the women in our House know how to ride."

"Like Lady Audrey," she said softly, her voice filled with reverence.

With their escorts riding ahead and behind, the two made their way toward a patchwork of square-shaped farms. The fields stretched across the land, vibrant with shades of green and yellow, promising a good harvest.

They passed a village and two small hamlets, where farmers returning from the fields paused to stare. Many were surprised to see the Lord and his sister riding together. Their striking black and golden hair drew attention, but it was their friendly greetings and casual words that left an impression. The farmers couldn’t believe how openly they spoke, as if they were equals.

Lansius found a quiet spot overlooking the land and decided to stop. He helped his sister dismount and let Sterling lead the horses to rest nearby.

"Come here and sit," he said, motioning to a patch of grass.

"It feels like we’re in Bellandia again," Tanya said energetically, settling next to him.

Lansius found her words poignant, stirring memories of her coming to fetch him from the vegetable farm. "You always came for me around this time."

"Indeed," she replied, her smile warm and genuine.

"So, tell me, how’s life now? Is it too demanding...?" he asked, thinking the peaceful setting might encourage her to open up.

"I’m learning a lot of new things," she began. "I try my best, but I think they expect too much of me. I’ve been practicing understanding difficult words, writing long sentences, reciting poetry, and even learning how to eat and dress properly. It’s overwhelming," she admitted softly, finally letting her feelings show.

Lansius chuckled softly. "Don’t get disheartened. You know, I still do most of those things poorly."

"Really?" Her spirit lifted as she looked at him with wide eyes.

"Yes. You should see my handwriting; it’s still terrible. Luckily, I have scribes to help me. Otherwise, only Audrey could read it since she was my tutor."

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Tanya giggled, visibly relieved.

Lansius continued, "Audrey also helps me get dressed, or she instructs Margo to assist. Honestly, I’m still bad at many things. I don’t do poetry either, so don’t let it dishearten you. The key is to find something you’re good at so you can have a role to play. Everything else will come with time."

"I see," she mumbled. "Then, brother, what are you good at?"

"Mm," Lansius pondered for a moment. "I guess I’m good at leading men and making plans."

Tanya nodded thoughtfully. Above them, the wind rustled through the lustrous branches, making the leaves sway gently.

"Brother," she called nervously. "I just realized that everything you’ve given me seems to have a purpose. Does this mean I have to learn how to use the crossbow?"

Now that she said it that way, Lansius felt a pang of guilt. "You can just ignore it for now. I thought it might be something we could practice together someday. It’s not as hard as it looks, but for now, it can stay as a wall decoration."

"It is indeed lovely," she agreed.

He gazed at her, admiring how she had grown into a fine young lady while still retaining her youthful innocence. "Tanya, if it ever feels too hard, just tell me, and we’ll find a solution," he reassured her.

Tanya nodded, relief was evident on her face.

"You don’t have to worry about my expectations. Just be yourself. I’m merely fulfilling my role as an older brother." Then, in a lighter tone, he added, "Can’t have myself looking boorish in front of others, you know."

It was a tactless jest, but Tanya giggled softly.

"If you don’t like all this, I can spirit you away somewhere safe where you can—"

"No," she interrupted. "Let me stay close to you. I’m not losing you a second time." There was strength in her voice.

Smiling, Lansius gave her a firm nod before teasing, "Not even when your husband asks you to?"

Tanya suddenly blushed and turned away. "Well..."

Her reaction made Lansius laugh. "My dear sister has caught a serious case of love bug."

"Brother," she protested, pouting. Then, shyly, she asked, "Have you heard anything about him?"

Lansius heaved a sigh and gently set his eyes on her. "I want to be frank, but you’ll need to prepare yourself for this."

She spent a few moments steeling herself and then said, "I’m ready."

"Your husband is more important than you realize. Being a merchant is just one of his many secret identities."

Her brow furrowed deeply. "Secret identities?"

Lansius nodded, his expression serious. "He’s one of Hunter Guild's agents. Two years ago, Lord Bengrieve sent him to retrieve Mother, you, and Marc from Bellandia. It was part of a deal we made. I did a job for him, and in return, he promised to extract my family, fearing Arvena might be consumed by another war."

Tanya’s eyes widened, and her breath caught as the revelation sank in. "Then, did he marry me just because of that?"

Lansius offered a reassuring pat on her head. "His actions might have started with a different motive, but legally your marriage is real. And I don’t intend to have it annulled unless you want it."

She looked at him tenderly, surprised by his words.

"I think it’s better for you to stay married. That way, I won’t have to deal with an army of suitors asking for my sister’s lovely, lovely hand," he quipped.

They chuckled together at his jest. Lansius then added, "I’m looking forward to meeting him and seeing where his loyalty truly lies."

For a while, they sat quietly, watching the waning sun as the late afternoon breeze played through the trees. Afterward, the two and their escort began the ride back to the castle.

As they rode, Lansius said to Tanya, "You know, there’s something new on the menu today."

"Really? What is it?" Tanya asked.

"Something lovely that I call spaghetti."

"Spagti?" Tanya repeated, stumbling over the word.

"Close enough," Lansius muttered with a grin. The white palfrey trotted gracefully toward the castle, its hooves soft against the ground, while the late afternoon breeze brushed gently against them, soothing and cool.

***

Riverstead

As dawn broke over the barony, the rhythmic thrum of hoofbeats filled the air, heralding a regal procession. Column by column, four hundred infantry, and three hundred horsemen sallied forth from Riverstead in disciplined order.

At the forefront rode the Crown Prince, exuding the confidence of a natural-born leader. His commanding presence reverberated through the army, inspiring his men and bolstering their morale. His reputation remained unshaken despite the incursion that had confined him to the city since last winter.

As the columns assumed their formations, the Crown Prince led the army with flair befitting his station. Riding at the vanguard with his knights, their lively banter exuded an air of triumph. Laughter echoed through the ranks, deep and resonant, invigorating the army for the battle ahead.

To the onlookers, it seemed as though this was nothing more than a sporting excursion.

The moment they reached the open plains, the knights and northern mounted warriors on sturdy warhorses fanned out in a display of martial splendor. Some were tall and lean, their chiseled features and polished armor gleaming under the morning sun. Others were broad and brutish, their heavy forms exuding raw power.

Their confidence stemmed from months of superior discipline and patience. This meticulous approach had allowed them to plant spies and recruit traitors within the enemy’s ranks. Armed with this intelligence, they pieced together the enemy’s true strength: a meager force of no more than three hundred men.

This knowledge, combined with painstaking scouting and probing attacks, had finally revealed the location of the enemy’s possible hideout and blocked their escape routes. With everything in place, the Crown Prince and his Riverstead garrison were now poised to strike back.

After capturing the man claiming to be Arte, the son of the previous Earl, they would deal with the splinter group occupying the bridge to Ceresia, which was blocking the open route to Alba Castle, where the King resided. Achieving this would not only restore the Crown Prince’s reputation but also secure Riverstead for years to come.

All this was achieved due to the Crown Prince’s careful approach, which bordered on timidity. His ability to calmly assess risks and make calculated moves had earned him a stellar reputation for success, both in court and on the battlefield.

After a three-hour march northwest, accounting for the pace of their footmen, the army reached the edge of the woodland. Agents and scouts were already waiting to deliver their latest reports.

With his staff confirming that everything was in order, the Crown Prince gave the command to march into the forest, their destination a secluded village hidden deep within the woods where the rebels under Arte were believed to be hiding.

Elements of the vanguard advanced swiftly in multiple directions, working in tandem with scouts to secure the column from potential ambushes.

"I expected the roads to be muddy, but they’re surprisingly solid," one knight remarked as they entered the forest.

"According to the records, this used to be a road leading to an important castle town. Yet its importance waned several centuries ago," the Crown Prince said, recalling information he had studied in the castle's archives.

"Just like the Imperium, its importance has waned," another knight quipped, drawing quiet laughter from the group.

The Crown Prince merely offered a faint smile. In truth, he preferred to preserve the Imperium and had advised his father to maintain the appearance of vassalage to avoid fracturing the realm. Yet, his father, as always, chose to follow the will of the people, or rather, the army under his command and proclaimed himself King of Brigantes.

It was sheer luck that his father had been away on a campaign when he was named Crown Prince. He knew his mother, now the Queen, despised him, and if she had been at Alba Castle, she would have fought the decision fiercely.

It was no secret that the Queen favored his younger brother. To her, his brother was more courageous, quick-witted, and charming. Since childhood, her preference had been painfully obvious. His tutors were inferior to his brother’s, his allowance smaller, and while he was sent away to study, his brother led a carefree youth that eventually grew into a life of drinking, horse racing, gambling, and building opulent mansions for his concubines.

And all of it, he thought bitterly, was just because his younger brother had lighter brown hair and was more handsome than him.

As they took their roles in his father’s court, it became clear that his brother had used his charm and knowledge of women's hearts to win their mother’s favor. While he labored to establish order in their father’s expanding provinces, his brother spent his time searching for the finest gifts, including jewelry, anti-aging potions, and youth elixirs, for their mother.

His method had undeniably worked. Even now, with the matter of his ascension to Crown Prince settled, letters from the palace in Brigandia continued to demand his resignation. But he was neither foolish nor naive. His frequent conflicts with his mother had ironically prepared him to go against his own family.

Her tears and schemes no longer moved him.

The Ancients had blessed him with a fate to rule after his father, not to rot in a house prison like a deposed prince.

If she died a painful death, he would not care. The way she treated him like an unwanted son had left wounds too deep to heal.

Perhaps the rumors that I was a bastard are true...

The thought lingered as the column rode deeper into the forest.

The rhythmic clop of approaching hooves broke through his pondering.

“Halt,” came the command as two knights and a Northern warrior intercepted the men.

“My Prince, we have discovered the village and a ruined mansion,” the incoming scout reported.

"Excellent," the knight remarked, clearly pleased.

"Not so fast," the Crown Prince said as he rode closer. "What’s the situation?" he asked the scout directly.

"It’s… empty. We’ve seen no one but dared not move closer," the scout explained.

"They must have heard us approaching and fled," a Northern warrior commented flatly.

One knight quickly stepped forward. "My Prince, grant me fifty riders, and I’ll pursue them as they relocate."

"I can do it with twenty riders," another offered.

"I can go alone!" someone jested, prompting laughter from the group.

The Crown Prince allowed himself a faint smile. "Fan out. We’ll move together. There’s plenty of time for the chase."

The column marched forward, reports from scouts trickling in sporadically. Most returned with the same findings: little to nothing. The rebels seemed to have vanished in a hurry, leaving an uneasy quiet in their wake.

Unspoken yet palpable, fear of betrayal lingered in the air. After all, the spies and traitors they had recruited were Arvenians; no Northerner could pass as one. Their loyalty was now questionable, a gnawing doubt that weighed on every step.

Despite their bravado, their confidence eroded as the forest deepened, its shadows thickening and stretching ominously.

***