Horizon of War Series-Chapter 230: The Breaking Tide

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the ranged assault stopped.

But there was no relief as the Dawn's column charged.

The two forces collided, and hatred was exchanged through sharpened steel. Battle cries erupted, only to be drowned by the agonized screams of the wounded. Blood washed over the forum floor, daggers plunged into exposed flesh, and maces shattered bones. A man slipped in his own blood, gasping for air as he was trampled beneath the relentless fighting.

Slowly, men's blood pooled in the same place where animals were slaughtered for feasts, streaming down into the gutters. The fight was brutal and one-sided. The Corinthians were mostly coastal opportunist raiders, not battle-hardened footmen, and they were facing what was considered the finest and most experienced warriors in all of Nicopola.

Worse for them, Lord Avery himself was in the thick of it, giving his men both a morale boost and a thirst for blood. Though old, he moved with strength and purpose through the chaos, fighting as his knights and champions skillfully pushed forward.

"Get me that young lord!" Avery commanded as the battle turned in his favor.

"My Lord, he's getting away!" one of his knights shouted, his voice muffled by his faceplate.

"Ha! Young hearts flee fast," Avery mocked. "Give chase. Break their line!"

At his command, the Dawn's forces surged forward, driving the Corinthians to their breaking point.

The Corinthian defense crumbled. Thirty six men lay slain. The battle ended so quickly that many wondered if the blood price had even been worth it. Until their last breath, the promised reinforcements from their pirate allies never arrived.

Lord Avery sent his men in pursuit while he personally led a detachment to hunt down a splintered group that had broken away.

Despite his bold words, the Lord of Corinthia had not struck his sword in anger. His armor remained untouched, pristine without a single cut. He and his few remaining retainers had slipped into the castle and barricaded themselves inside, still naively believing their allies would arrive at any moment.

Fate was not kind to those left outside the castle. Some yielded and were brutally subdued, while the remaining Corinthian guards fought with grim resolve, swinging axes and swords in defiance, only to be struck down one by one.

Lord Avery's forces had found them pressed against the closed city gate, likely locked by the lord’s retainers as they fled in panic.

The gatehouse stood empty. Their last hope of escape was gone.

With his back against the shut gate, a lone Corinthian knight remained standing, surrounded by three of Dawn's soldiers. His breastplate was slick with blood. At his feet lay his young squire, lifeless, a poleaxe buried in his chest.

The knight roared as he fended off a strike and cut down another attacker. He turned to meet another, only for a mace to slam into his side, driving him to the ground. He fell to his knees, gasping, before a second blow struck his helmet.

He collapsed, his houndskull bascinet caved in, and would have met the Ancients if not for Lord Avery’s intervention.

"I need to ask something," the Lord of Dawn said coldly as he approached. His men disarmed the knight, unlatched his visor, and held him firmly.

Avery's voice was sharp. "Why is the defense so sporadic?"

The captive drew a heavy breath before gathering his reply. "Because we've been fooled."

"Fooled?" Avery's interest was piqued.

"We died for nothing. Our new lord is too stupid and blinded by ambition," the Corinthian knight remarked bitterly.

"I like your tone. We shall talk," Avery declared. His men quickly dragged the knight into the nearest house.

Inside, a panicked woman clutched her daughter. Avery motioned for her to calm down. "Please, due to circumstances, I must intrude upon your home. Pray that you grant me a few moments and that you do nothing reckless, so I can guarantee your safety."

The woman nodded and curled up in the corner, hugging her daughter tightly.

Avery sat down and turned back to the knight, who sat on the floor with his back against the wall. "Now, you were saying?"

"Can you guarantee my safety as you did for them?" The knight nodded toward the mother and child.

Avery motioned for his squire, took his waterskin, and handed it to the knight. "I shall pay your ransom to my man so you can be my prisoner."

"Much obliged," the knight said wearily. "Then, I shall tell you of my lord’s folly. He trusted—" He parted his lips to speak further but hesitated, his mouth closing again as if reconsidering his words. A weary sigh escaped him. "I think what you really need to know is that the pirates have escaped north. You must have realized by now that there are no attack boats in the city's harbors."

Avery gazed at the knight with distrust but decided to entertain him. "How many of these pirates?"

"More than a hundred, but no more than two."

Avery merely nodded, feigning agreement as he took a pouch from his squire, fished out a sweet biscuit, and offered it to the woman’s daughter. She was too afraid to take it, so he motioned for his squire to hand it to her instead. The girl accepted it with both hands and showed gratitude but did not eat it out of reverence.

The knight observed the exchange and continued without interruption. "They promised to help with the defense, but as I suspected, it was only a ruse. The tower guards reported that they saw men fleeing north. I believe you will want to catch them, for they are the ones truly responsible for capturing your trade ships."

Avery scoffed. "To name them as if they are a separate entity. Isn't it too late to dodge responsibility for your barony's actions?"

"Take a look around, and you'll see that Corinthia doesn’t even have the competence to defend against you, let alone capture your trade ships. Isn't that why you're here?" the knight asked.

Avery paused to reconsider but remained unswayed. To him, this knight was merely trying to lure his forces away from the city for some unknown reason.

Noticing his hesitation, the knight pressed on. "Your war isn't with us Corinthians, but with the pirates."

"When this is over, I'll form a task force to hunt them in their dens," Avery said dismissively.

"No, you don't understand," the knight said firmly. "These two hundred arrived with attack boats, enticed my lord with gifts, money, and weaponry, and convinced him to launch a joint attack on your trade ships. Trust me when I say this—half of Corinthia also wants to find and punish them. They manipulated our lord into doing their bidding, knowingly making Corinthia the scapegoat."

This revelation piqued Avery's interest. Only now did he consider that another player might be involved. "Interesting story," he remarked. "Do you have any proof?"

"That one of your magnificent airships fell is proof enough," the knight’s said boldly.

Avery was forced to nod. "Indeed..."

"A remote coastal city like Corinthia had never even heard of airships until they told us. What are the chances we possessed the weaponry to counter your flying vessel?"

Avery nodded again, finding his captive’s reasoning difficult to argue against. "But don't your people also raid the coastal settlements for a living?"

"People do what they must to survive," the knight said. "These are harsh times. We don’t ask where a man finds his wealth. To us, everyone is a fisherman."

"Then to us, everyone might be a raider," Avery countered, leaving the knight without a retort.

Still, Avery was convinced. "You say there are two hundred of them in the north?"

Seeing a glimpse of hope, the knight quickly answered, "Yes, there’s a village up north. I believe that’s where the pirates are going. They likely moored their boats there."

Avery turned to his captain, who immediately stepped out of the house to make preparations.

The Lord of Dawn also stood and gestured for his guards to tie the knight. "Treat him well. He is my prisoner."

"Gratitude," the knight said, satisfied that his case had been heard.

Avery left the house and saw thick black smoke billowing from several corners of the city. Fires would soon rage out of control with no one left to stop them. Once vibrant and full of life, the city now lay hollow, its streets darkened with blood.

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Here and there, Corinthian men lay scattered in the gutters, their bodies twisted and broken. Yet despite the carnage, there had been no indiscriminate slaughter. No harm had come to women or children; they had been ignored, left to flee or huddle in their homes.

With the lull in the fighting, his troops busied themselves looting valuables from the dead. They found more than expected: gold rings, medallions, even a ridiculously ornate golden dagger with an inlaid sheath of precious stones. For an army from a remote coastal city, such wealth was beyond suspicious. Unless they had a gold mine. But Corinthia had none.

"My Lord," his captain called out, "I have sent a detachment of thirty men north."

"Careful. Their numbers are not small, and our forces are already bruised and battered."

"We can't spare more. We still have the castle garrison to worry about," his captain said.

Avery nodded, disliking the situation. "What do you think about these new pirates?"

The captain, a veteran of many battles, met Avery’s gaze with a hard stare. "Even if the captive speaks the truth, the Corinthians still took half the share, so they deserve half the blame. I say let half of them burn."

Avery found it poignant and was about to speak when a vast shadow passed over them. He looked up and saw his flagship looming overhead, its massive form blocking out the morning sun.

From above, Angelo watched with a steely gaze. It had taken them several moments to settle their issues and reassess the situation, but now the airship had rejoined the fight.

***

Smugglers

North of the city, there was a place well-suited for harbors, where the water was deep right up to the beach, allowing larger boats to approach inland and be dragged beneath the shade of lush coconut trees. Despite the presence of these large boats, the village remained calm, with little activity beyond the locals fishing, repairing their nets, or celebrating the day's catch.

The hundreds of Nicopolan merchants, as the smugglers called themselves, did not live in the village but resided in a manor further south. The villagers realized these boats were not fishing or trade vessels but attack ships. Many of the village men had been offered jobs as sailors or fighters, so they learned that these were pirates, likely the same ones rumored to have taken part in the infamous attack on a large trade convoy crossing the strait of Three Hills.

However, the Lord of Corinthia had sent his officials to assure them that these men were allies and must be treated with respect. Thus, the locals accepted these disguised pirates and treated them as honored guests. Only a few dozen stayed in the village, blending in with the locals. They caused little trouble, and some even taught the children how to read or defend themselves with swords.

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Others recruited young villagers to help repair the ships, as they seemed to have little knowledge of shipbuilding.

They claimed the boats were recent purchases from distant places such as Dawn, Halicia, and even Ekionia. Many of the vessels were old and barely seaworthy, so there was always work to be done, including plugging holes, replacing planks, fixing oars, and repairing rudder mechanisms. The pirates paid handsomely for these services, and the villagers, in turn, ignored their presence and their habit of drinking heavily almost every night.

But today, things were far from usual.

The day was still young, far from midday, when over a hundred smugglers returned in large and small groups. They rushed to awaken their drunken comrades, who scrambled to prepare their boats ashore. The villagers could only watch as most of their men and sons had already sailed out to fish, leaving behind only the elderly, women, and children.

With frantic urgency, they loaded goods onto their carts and hauled them to their boats while simultaneously pulling the vessels from the shore into the water. Their movements were hurried and their voices loud, their faces tense with desperation. As soon as enough men were aboard, they rowed out to sea, moving as if something were chasing them. Five boats departed first, followed soon after by eleven more.

The villagers saw the panic in the pirates' eyes and noticed the distant smoke rising from Corinthia. Gripped by fear, they abandoned their homes and fled toward the nearby mangrove forest.

...

Banter and laughter broke out as the pirates reached the open sea. The sky was bright, the wind salty, and the sun beat down on their exposed heads and skin, but their spirits remained high as they had escaped the troubled Corinthia. The calm wind and waters, making for a perfect getaway weather. Here, nobody could catch them. Even though these modified trade galleys were old, they had been turned into attack boats and were fast. Not even the dreaded Dawn airship could outrun them in these conditions.

"Row harder!" one shouted, messing with his friend's tempo.

"Bah! I'll hang you out to dry when we reach home," the other shot back.

Laughter erupted again as the weary mountain men, better known as smugglers or, more recently, pirates, made their way toward their hideout. Thirty men rowed their galley, fifteen on each side. There was no uniformity among their fleet, with the other galleys trailing behind varying in size, some smaller and some larger. Their boats were riding high on the water as their cargo holds were mostly empty.

These galleys were originally purchased in haste from the western harbors to counter the sudden establishment of the Southern Trade. They had arrived just in time to intercept the trade caravan before it could cross the narrow strait. Now, after being thoroughly cleaned, repaired, and refitted in Corinthia, many among them were confident in their speed.

As the oarsmen labored, several key figures gathered in the captain’s stern quarters, a space they simply called the cabin.

"Who would have thought the Dawn would launch an assault from the beach?" muttered the older, tanned-skinned man who held titular command as their captain. He sat on a water barrel, a map spread across the small table before him.

"The Dawn almost sniffed us out," said a younger man, his chest bare as he opened a wooden box to reveal a small-sized pristine Ekionian optic, his loot, a useful navigation aid.

A third man stood at the rear, peering through a narrow window as he checked their fleet’s progress. He turned and muttered in disgust, "I can't believe the Corinthians folded that fast. Unbelievably fast."

Despite being given three aerial ballistas, specifically designed to counter the Dawn’s airships after the bitter lessons of their allies’ defeat in Kapua, their Corinthian allies had crumbled far too quickly. Though meant only as bait, they were still expected to endure a siege or at least hold out long enough to distract the Dawn, buying time for their scattered forces and allies to act.

The captain removed his hat, revealing a sweaty, balding head. He exhaled deeply before asking, "Who was tasked with retrieving the ballista crew?"

"They're gone," said the fourth and last man in the cabin, leaning against the wooden wall near the door. He was a tanned, handsome man clad in a shining cuirass. "They all burned to cinders along with the donjon."

The captain frowned. "No survivors?"

"I wasn’t there. I lied to the Lord of Corinthia, telling him we were going to coordinate a rear attack against the Dawn. He believed it, which allowed honorary guards like me to slip away." The handsome man spoke without remorse, his faint smile revealing how little it mattered to him.

"What a shame to lose them." The captain crossed his muscular arms. "Our leaders will be furious. They invested heavily in the ballistas and their operators."

The crew that perished was led by an apprentice of a renowned meister from Ekionia, famed for his beastmen-killing ballista.

The man watching the narrow rear window commented indifferently, "With the donjon burning like that, they’ll be as dead as fish in a pyre,"

"At least we took one down," the bare-chested youngster added, attempting to lift their spirits as he tucked his small Ekionia optics into the leather pouch on his belt.

The handsome man chuckled. "A good trial, I’d say."

The younger man was about to leave when he hesitated. "I just remembered, what about our men stationed on the South Hill route? What will become of them?"

The captain steadied himself against the table as a large wave rocked the ship before answering. "Not an issue. Most of the hundred are just hired Nicopolans and Corinthian thugs. They can croak anywhere. As for the few of our brethren who command them, they should be able to disguise themselves and travel overland to South Hill or Three Hills."

At the mention of the last city, the other men's eyes lit up.

"I’ve always loved that city. Better than any in Nicopola," the man at the rear remarked.

"It makes good wine, and the climate is just right," the handsome man agreed.

The captain chuckled too. To the Mountain People, Three Hills was like a secret backyard, one they deeply treasured. Its vineyards and villas made it an ideal retreat. Unlike the Nicopolans, the Lowlandians locals, due to their isolation, still carried a certain naivety. They did not know or care much about the Mountain People. Even if they did, they were unlikely to look down on them for their unrefined tongue or slightly different dialects.

Reassured by the answer, the younger man exited the cabin, eager to test the new Ekionia optics, likely better than the one he already had. Soon, his expertise would be needed to chart the route. Even inside the strait, dangerous sandbanks and coral reefs lay in wait. They avoided them by studying inland landmarks and matching them to their records. The rest of the fleet depended on them to open the route.

The man at the rear, satisfied that the fleet had followed without issue, walked toward one of the wooden bunks, unfastened his sword scabbard, and sat down with a grunt. "This seafaring business is making me sick."

His words drew a chuckle from the handsome man. "Missing your new wife's embrace already?"

"I paid a fortune for her. That damn slaver charged me a fortune, even though I'm his nephew," he complained effortlessly before admitting, "But fine Centurian ladies are hard to come by." A grin tugged at his lips as he made himself comfortable on the bunk.

The handsome man smirked but chose to forgo his usual jab. Instead, he strolled to a nearby corner and lowered himself onto the wooden floor. Crossing his legs, he asked, "Boss, do you think the plan to attack Three Hills is still happening?"

The captain glanced at the map as if searching for an answer but found none.

The reply came from the man on the bunk again. "With Corinthia falling this fast, we can't hit Three Hills. Not while the Black Lord's army roams freely."

"Shouldn't he still be stuck in Midlandia?" the man sitting on the floor asked while unfastening his cuirass.

"I heard he's already consolidated his position well enough to send some of his forces back. And he still has the tribal riders."

Having finished removing his cuirass, the handsome man leaned his head against the wooden wall, muttering, "So our only hope is for our other allies to make their move against Kapua and the Gray Skull Legion."

"Exactly. That would force the Black Lord's hand," came the reply from the bunk.

"I heard the new mercenary king, Nicodemus, has twenty thousand men."

A whistle came from the bunk, followed by a lazy remark. "Massive army, if true."

The captain finally spoke. "This discussion is for commanders. Keep it from the youngsters. As for the decision, we'll reach home in two nights, or sooner if the wind favors us. Let the leaders decide. No point in making baseless guesses."

With that, the conversation faded, each man seeking rest after a brutal morning of chaos and desperate flight, but respite was hard to find. The midday sun grew hotter, and the waves struck harder. Few among them were sailors, and it showed. Originally, their interest in the Middle Sea had been limited to smuggling contraband to western harbors. Fewer than two hundred Mountain People engaged in that trade, manning only a handful of boats. This new piracy campaign and their alliance with Corinthia had already stretched their resources thin.

Outside, the young man with binoculars soon spotted their first landmark—a wrecked galley embedded in the stone reefs. It had been there for centuries, a grim warning of the Middle Sea’s deceptive calm and hidden dangers. From there, they would continue north, using familiar landmarks to guide them toward safer waters. They needed a secure anchoring point to rest at night until they reached one of the rarely known coves nestled between the mountains.

The cove was still part of Nicopola Province, now under the rule of the Gray Skull Legion. But the land was nearly impassable, with the eastern Nicopolan mountains forming a barrier of rocky terrain and cliffs. However, to the Mountain People, this was the heart of their domain.

***

Southern Midlandia

The height of summer in Midlandia brought silence to the fields, broken only by the steady drone of cicadas. The heat was too oppressive for labor, but in towns and cities, the roads bustled with travelers. With dry, solid roads and clear skies, it was the season for long journeys, whether for business, visiting acquaintances, or tending to long-overdue errands and promises.

Lansius, too, had been busy. With his domain stretching vast, constant travel was unavoidable. He and his court, moved between cities and towns, holding court to settle disputes, accept renewed pledges and oaths, and oversee his realm firsthand.

To avoid burdening his hosts financially, he kept his visits brief but unpredictable, ensuring that every region remained vigilant. The travels were considered a success with few issues, but upon his return to Canardia, reports of fraud had piled up. Even the newly formed Midlandian Office of Works struggled to contain the corruption. Reviewing records only did so much when the deception began at the source.

The findings quickly unsettled Lansius, especially since taxation in Midlandia was relatively light at only a decima, or a tenth of the harvest. Elsewhere, even Lowlandia imposed a 20 percent rate, while the wider Imperium demanded 25 to 30 percent. Yet, the noble and landowning elites still exploited the system, colluding with local officials to underreport their yields.

A closer look revealed just how blatant the fraud had become.

One report detailed a plot of land recorded as swamp in a knight’s household backyard. In reality, it was a fertile, high-yielding field. The local surveyor had signed off on the false report, no doubt after taking a bribe. Another landlord claimed severe flood damage years ago, requesting an extended tax exemption for another year. Yet, the flood had barely reached his estate, and his manor had been rebuilt, not due to damage, but because he wanted to expand it.

Lansius took drastic measures, purging the most corrupt officials and appointing new land surveyors. But it would take another year before he had enough fresh talent to replace them all.

In the meantime, he had sent his most trusted Midlandian officers as bailiffs and sheriffs to maintain order in his vast new realm. Stretching his manpower even thinner. He also had to be cautious when appointing Lowlandian officers. The Midlandians had little love for outsiders, so he played it safe by relying on local talent, trusting that random but thorough supervision would be enough to deter future fraud.

But he knew the real problem ran deeper.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Instinctively, he responded, "Come in."

One by one, the ladies entered his spacious study chamber and curtsied before him with practiced grace—Valerie, Claire, Tanya, and Tia. Each was beautiful in her own way. Even young Tia, the Lowlandian who had once been bitten by a wolf and cured by Valerie, had begun growing into a striking young woman.

"Now that I think about it," Lansius remarked, "there's quite a lot of you."

Audrey, the last to enter, approached and casually perched on the table beside him. Leaning in, she said in jest, "So, you gathered us all. Has your lust finally caught up to you?"

Lansius chuckled, and the others followed with amused smiles before he explained, "No, I called you all here for an experiment. If this works, we could all be filthy rich."

Rich enough to buy Midlandia nobles' loyalty, or to turn their own greed against them.

***