The Elder Lands

The time came faster than Lucan could have imagined. One day they were overseeing the levy and the next they were preparing to march them out. He and his father were seen off by Thomas, Lilian, and Cordell, the latter being castellan in their absence, while Lee would march out with them.

An anxious current went through Lucan as they gave their farewells even as he accepted their well wishes. Thomas patted him on the back. Cordell exchanged firm nods with him. And Lilian said some pleasant words. He didn’t know whether they were uttered out of heart or obligation, but he accepted them nonetheless. She also gave him a clean, embroidered handkerchief, as was traditional when a lady was seeing off a favored suitor or a betrothed to… War. He mulled over the word and its meaning, and he hoped that what he would experience through it wouldn't be too much worse than what had happened in the raids. But the cynic in him knew better.

Before he left, though, Lucan made certain to impress upon Sawyer how important it was that he builds the road in their absence. They and Sir Ward were to return to an already usable road. The hostile knight would have to reckon with that surprise however he wished, but their estate wouldn’t be blindsided again, that was for certain. They’d taken some of the engineer’s labor away in their levy but not all of it. Most families had to give only a single able-bodied man to the levy, unless they had only one son, in which case they were normally spared the levy except when circumstances were dire. During prolonged campaigns, the laws changed depending on how many times a single family had been levied and their overall contribution to the war. In general, an overlord or a ruling knight would avoid cutting off a family line.

After the goodbyes, they marched northwest, taking his road all the way to the High Road which they would follow west until they reached the fork in the river where Epiza stood. They rode ahead of three hundred men marching on foot. A respectable number. Even the refugees had provided a levy. While they were a war-weary lot, a fair levy was far better for them than having every able-bodied man pressed into service by the eastern warlords. There had been some resistance, but it hadn’t been much more different than what Lucan had seen from their other subjects.

The journey was a slow one. A distance that would’ve taken them at most a fortnight on horseback took them a month due to the line of men marching on foot behind them. But eventually, Epiza’s walls came into sight. They were made of stone, but it was nothing as magnificent as Arpague or Eldham. The wall was not only lesser in height, but it also encircled a much smaller town, and it certainly didn’t look as awe-inspiring as the ones protecting the two great cities. Its sandstone was obviously aging, and even from this distance, Lucan could see the decay of some of the crenelations. It wasn’t being provided enough care, it seemed.

With the sight of the wall came the sight of an encampment. All the vassals that were this far south were gathering their troops here. Looking among the raised banners, Lucan didn’t see the royal one, so the prince hadn’t arrived just yet.

Good. It would give them time to settle in.

Tents spread out on the northern side of the walls with the ground torn up in places and simply dirty in others. It fit what Lucan imagined a war camp would look like, though he was unpleasantly surprised by the smell as they drew closer. It was a mixture of chamberpot, sweat, rot, and vinegar, however odd the latter smell was.

As they approached the threshold of the camp, a man rode out to meet them. It turned out to be one of Lord Serys’s men-at-arms. Lord Serys was the overlord of Epiza and a somewhat wealthy noble according to Thomas. The man-at-arms greeted them and welcomed them into the encampment, arranging for them to take over a strip of empty land to set up their tents. Lucan’s father was also invited to join the lords and knights in Lord Serys’s pavilion, where they were discussing the campaign and had word of the time of the prince’s arrival.

After Lord Serys’s man-at-arms left them, their own men-at-arms began barking orders at the troops to begin setting up camp. His father’s tent was the first and largest to be set up. The knight invited him in before leaving for Lord Serys’s assembly.

Lucan stepped inside, accepting his father’s gesture for him to be seated, and they sat across from each other on the ground, a low table between them.

“As you know, we’ve lost one of our number in the last Wildermen raids,” his father began.

Lucan nodded. “I imagine that ought to be remedied?”

“Yes,” his father said. “You must now bear a responsibility which has been much delayed. Choosing your retainers is a matter of utmost importance, particularly when said retainers are the ones you expect to stand by you against an enemy charge.”

Lucan nodded again.

“We might yet lose more men on this campaign, though Elders know I hope we don’t, and I will endeavor to see it so. But we must keep our eyes open for good prospects. At times of war, you’ll meet quite the assortment of men. Levied troops. Volunteers. Mercenaries, bad and good. And even some hopefuls who don’t know better. Beneath all that dirt, you must find your gold.”

Lucan raised a brow. “Volunteers?” Men had fought, fled, and even risked their ruler’s wrath to avoid the levy; and there were others who volunteered for the campaign? Preposterous.

“Hmm.” His father nodded. “There are those who are too poor to feed themselves and see this as an opportunity. Those not levied are paid good coin for their service. And any marshal would do good to feed his men if he wants to still have men by the end of the day.”

“And among those desperate souls, you expect me to find a good prospect for recruitment?” Lucan asked incredulously.

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“It’s rare, but you can’t buy instinct and talent,” his father said. “You could find a gem in the rough among the rabble. Not that you must only seek those of the desperate sort. Among the mercenaries, you’ll find those who have had enough of the life and would like to settle down. Most of them will want to put their blades behind them, but some will be all too happy to accept your offer if you build trust with them. There are also freeriders and such who are already looking for a House to serve, but they often have their eyes on larger estates, and more often than not, they’re less capable than they might believe.”

“Should I seek one man to replace Henry then?” Lucan asked.

His father chuckled and shook his head. “Seek as many as you can get, but only those worthy of trust. I doubt you’ll find that many. You ought to be careful, particularly with the sellswords. They’re the least loyal of the lot.”

Under the leadership of Lee, their men-at-arms were all busy getting their camp in order, so Lucan decided to wander the encampment on his own, hoping to build some familiarity with the troops and the factions around them.

Sun-baked dirt crunched under his foot as he marched deeper into the sea of tents. There were thousands of men here, and the sight and noise did it justice. At any moment, dozens of men hurrying from one place to another, heedless of each others’ presence except to avoid bumping into each other. Yells and conversations drowned out each other so much that Lucan couldn’t make out a single word, yet he could feel the intent of some of the more passionately voiced shouts.

As he skirted a muddy patch, Lucan took note of the men hard at work digging dozens of latrines. Some of them glanced at him, but most were busy cursing their luck. He crossed a tiny stream that crawled through the encampment, likely feeding into the river. The city was in the nook between the two branches of the Walis, and the encampment was made as close to the main vein flowing north as possible to ease getting rid of the waste that couldn’t go into the latrines. He kept wandering through the camp, his nose already used to the smell of the place, though slight changes depending on his nearness to latrines, animal pens, and workbenches kept him reminded of the unpleasantness of it all.

He spotted several men in a muddy patch struggling to help up a fallen bull. Lucan headed towards them. If he had to find trustworthy men, he’d have to earn some trust himself first. Perhaps by making nice with the soldiery.

He hurried to the men’s side, lending them his hands.

“Told you not to lead the damn livestock through the mud, you fuckwit,” a man beside Lucan yelled at the younger one next to him.

“You’re the one who hoisted all your work on me and went to roll in the hay with a camp wench!”

“Shut your cunt mouth,” the older one ground out.

“Would you two stop bickering and push the damn animal up?” a young man not much older than Lucan said. This one had a shortsword and a mace on his hip and leather armor that seemed to have seen a fight or two.

The bull was attempting to gain purchase on the ground with its hooves, but without help, it slipped over and over again

The older worker huffed, and they all put their backs into it, grunts of effort escaping them as they forced the animal up. After they were certain that it could keep its feet, those who were there to help, including Lucan, stepped back and let the two workers handle leading it away.

“Thank you, my lord,” the armed young man from before said to him.

Lucan glanced at him incredulously but noticed him glancing at his armor. Lucan looked down at his muddied steel plate and understood. “I’m not a lord.”

“Ah,” the young man nodded with pursed lips. “But you are a noble, right?”

Lucan shrugged. “One might say so, yes.”

“Name’s Joel Ironshod,” the young man said. “An honor to make your acquaintance.”

“Lucan Zesh,” Lucan gave him a nod of acknowledgement. “It’s a pleasure.”

Joel eyed the color Lucan wore then glanced in the direction of their camp. “I was told the host that just arrived was a knight’s. Might you be the son of Sir… Zesh?” He seemed uncertain about his presumption.

Lucan chuckled and nodded again. “Yes. My father is Sir Golan Zesh.”

“I don’t mean to offend,” Joel said. “But that is quite the large host for a knight.”

Lucan smiled, noting that the crowd had scattered and only the two of them remained. “By the grace of His Majesty, my father is a landed knight. Our host might be as big as some lords.”

“Indeed,” Joel said. “It is worthy of pride.”

Lucan glanced at the rest of the encampment. “I must continue gaining familiarity with the grounds.” Then he looked at Joel appraisingly. “You’re welcome to accompany me. You must know more than I do about this place.”

Joel smiled and nodded.

Their round through the grounds took most of what remained of daylight. While getting familiar with the encampment and its occupants, Lucan also got to know more about his guide. Joel was a freeblade volunteering in the campaign in hopes of being recruited by a lord. He didn’t let on any of the particulars, but Lucan found him to be a good prospect who could be worth his time.

They separated a whiff before sunset, Lucan returning to his camp and the young man going to a more haphazard group of tents that housed volunteers and sellswords.

Lucan found his father already back from the assembly and waiting in his tent, so he stepped inside.

“Father.”

The knight nodded. “I’m told you left to go on rounds through the encampment.”

“Yes.” Lucan told him about the stroll he’d taken through the grounds and the freeblade he’d met.

“Good,” his father said. “You went alone though.”

“Yes. The men were occupied getting our camp in order. And they’re as foreign to this place as I am.”

“Yes,” his father shook his head even as he said the word. “But, they have skills that you might not. Lee has more experience than all of the others combined. That boy, Ryder, seems to make friends with ease. And Clifton, that one is sharp. I wager he has a good eye for people. Make use of what you have, and don’t pass quick judgment. Such matters require careful thought.”

“Yes, Father,” Lucan said. “Was there something of importance discussed at the assembly with Lord Serys?”

His father nodded. “All the levies, including ours, are to be merged into infantry units. The prince’s commands preceded his arrival by missive. We’re to expect our Marshal’s arrival in the next two days.”

Lucan hummed. It wasn’t uncommon for a Marshal to reorder their army so that command was not splintered between dozens of vassals, but the prince seemed to be in a hurry. Lucan could imagine that the rest of the realm was facing even more peril from the drought than their estate. “At least that means our men-at-arms won’t be as occupied tomorrow.”

His father nodded. “Make the best of it.”