Record of Ashes War

Chapter 20 - Smoke in the Distance

Wood beneath the mantelpiece crackled as flames consumed them. Kalin took a sip of his tea whilst reading through the many reports set on his desk. Contrary to the temperature in his office, the ginger tea had cooled down more than he would have liked. He frowned at the lukewarm bitter taste, scratching the sides of his neatly trimmed beard. The reports in his hands held nothing of note, though a nuisance all the same. Reports of Empire scouts, minor skirmishes between advance parties, the power struggles within their court —more squabbles of mercantile rights or scandals of married couples— reports of the state of his own garrison and city, and lastly, reports of the pesky inquisition legions of the Astral Union.

Training young soldiers took up the vast majority of Kalin's time. Keeping his realm in order and maintaining knowledge of his enemies and the court of Xenaria took up the rest. A busy life with little time to himself since he'd taken over as the duke of Xenaria after his father's, Sialin's passing. Kalin let out a heavy sigh as he stretched his legs beneath his desk. The candle in the corner had melted down two thirds since he'd lit the wick when he had come to his office. "Flames," he grumbled. It was already well past dinner time.

He rose from his seat and stretched out. Life was easier a few years back. He was a privileged soldier serving under his father at the time. One with high enough a position to have many duties, yes, but the burdens had more than doubled since coming into his inheritance. The duty of the duke was to be the aegis of Xenaria, to keep watch on its borders and its neighbors for any and all threats. Except for the Astral Union. They were given a free pass due to their supposed rights as an 'independent justice militia.'

Kalin knew them to be so much more than that. They were an arm for the Thousand Sun City. A nation state of only a single, enormous city. A completely militarized city with impenetrable walls and an army that not even the Tarmian Empire would dare to provoke. It was once a small vassal state to Xenaria, enjoying resource donations whilst serving as a stronghold watching the southern border. That had ended some two centuries past, though friendly relations continued to this day, many among Xenarian aristocracy having vested interests in the city.

Sometime between those two centuries of past, the city state abruptly changed their political system, announcing the formation of the Bright Star Hegemony —now more commonly referred to as the Astral Union.

Despite the Sun City's claims as a holy place, it was not a site of pilgrimage. The Astral Union's sole purpose was to weed out any evils within the world. Anything that it claimed was evil, that is. Their soldiers roamed both Xenaria and Tarmia freely without any consequence, spying on both nations. A fact that sent chills down Kalin's spine.

And people immigrate to their fell city from glamorous rumors spread by their ardent inquisition legions. Flames knows how they manage to feed some two million or so mouths. Even with consistent donations and business relations from those of high standing in both Xenaria and Tarmia, that number of people should have required more funds than they could have been making.

He sighed again as he left his office and headed down the torch lit stone walls of the Arcaeus Peak garrison. Another day, another meal within the soldier's mess hall. The servants would have been more than happy to serve him with a more proper meal in a proper setting, but that would take too long to organize.

Kalin was hungry and his legs needed moving. The constant headache of increasing burdens stretched him thin. There were dozens of marriage proposals waiting in his manor back at the city of Metsiphon no doubt. Dozens more that were sent to the garrison since the noblemen didn't know where he spent his time. All of the letters ended up as meager fuel to heating flames. None of them interested Kalin. None of them were supposed to interest him. As the duke of Xenaria, his marriage was more than expected to be with a notable woman from one of the High Houses, or with Dahlia, the nation's crown princess. The latter, which court gossip oddly claimed the most likely outcome, would one soon day make him king. Though Xenaria had been ruled by a matriarchy for centuries, it would no doubt increase his burdens.

Armored guards posted at every corner of the garrison lowered their heads as Kalin walked by. He nodded in silent acknowledgement, his exhausted expression coming off as grim and stoic. Truthfully, he wasn't particularly opposed to the expected marriage. Dahlia was a lovely girl with a charming smile. He'd met her on multiple occasions, though, he'd never actually tried to court her. Others had whereas she herself would turn them down and always tease him instead. He knew she had eyes for him, or at least did when he'd last seen her two years prior.

Kalin feared not having the time to love her as a husband should. He had contemplated accepting a random marriage proposal for the sake of sparing Dahlia of what he thought would be inevitable pain. But that wouldn't be fair to whoever's hand he did accept. Dahlia was not foolish either. She knew what her position entailed. She would become queen within a year, when she came of age at twenty-one. Her mother, Queen Esa, had died an untimely death to illness, handing Xenaria over to the first chancellor, Marco Aurelin, until Dahlia was old enough.

Such was the painful life of those in power. Too little time on their hands to enjoy simple pleasures such as the company of loved ones. Kalin envied the life of peasant farmers at times. How easy it would be to simply till the fields all day and then go back home in the evening to a close knitted family.

The thoughts were interrupted by the heavy sounds of iron boots striking stone from around the corner. The guard at the corner straightened his back at the sight of the approaching man and tightened the grip around the sword hilt at his waist. He gave a salute in the direction of the noise. Kalin scowled. There was only one other person the soldiers of the garrison showed that much respect to. The 'Wolf of Metsiphon', Jengard Rask. The man was not so easily riled, increasing Kalin's anxiety as Rask rounded the corner with a panic stricken face, breathless.

"Your Grace," he gasped. "The Papillion Forest. Smoke has been spotted from the distance. It burns."

And in my endless exhaustion, I didn't notice this myself from my window…

Kalin's fingers flexed. He held in his emotions, still maintaining a look of stone. All thoughts of hunger and weariness left him. "Who?" he asked, his suppressed anger causing his temperature to rise.

"The Union. A messenger of theirs arrived just before the report. The Union claims that darkspawn are using the forest as a cover and need to be rooted out. Our scouts report of an army on standby surrounding the forest."

"Where is this messenger?" Kalin asked, struggling to keep his voice level. An attack on Xenarian lands. Xenarian people. And right under his nose.

"Resting before the gates. His horse has been given water."

"Send him on his way. Put a bolt in his back two miles out. We never received the message. Prepare riders, cloaked. Half the numbers of estimated enemies. No emblems. The Union must not know it's us. Neither are we to know it is them because it's dark out. We have excuses for when they eventually figure out that it was us. Those Flame-Scorched bastards have gone too far this time. Oh, and field an army by the Cinder River. Tarmia might try approaching, seeing the Papillion on fire and all."

Rask nodded and hurried back. Kalin didn’t know what or who was in the forest, save for rumored magical Artifacts. An Artifact, especially if it were to be a weapon, could shift the power balance between the nations. In the right hands, the tides of a battle could be turned. High House Lakris, Xenaria's royal family, possessed one such weapon.

The Empire no doubt had its shares —word of their powers had reached Kalin from their eastern front. The Astral Union themselves possessed the Thousand Sun Sword. It was said to be a relic from the War of Ashes. Tales of its powers were spread far and wide, though, there was little record of it being used after the war. Kalin suspected the purpose was to spread rumors. Rumors spoke of the sword being missing. Of it having been stolen long ago. Without it, other nations would be tempted to attack the Thousand Sun City, thinking it to only be maintaining a façade of strength.

As if, Kalin thought.

He'd seen the city from a fairly close distance. Walls higher than the average watch tower. A professional army of a hundred thousand, and some three times that in trained civilian soldiers. Streets supposedly constructed in a way to make invasions easy to repel. Not to mention minor keeps functioning as small fortresses, and even more walls further inside, nearing the center. Three layers of them. At its very center, perched at the top of a plateau, lay a circular citadel with dozens of pointed peaks surrounding it as if it was to represent a sun from a bird's eye view. Everything about the city screamed impregnable. Any army that dared approach it would likely find themselves retreating from the behemoth that would come out of its walls —an excuse the Astral Union was likely looking for— and shortly after, their nation destroyed and conquered.

The only reason the Union had yet to take any action themselves was to avoid risking an alliance between the nations that surrounded it.

Kalin turned back towards his office. He dressed himself in appropriate attire for a cool night and put loose but sturdy leather armor on top before swinging a dark grey cloak over his shoulders. Quick and experienced fingers fastened a sword belt around his waist before he stormed out.

It was a slog to get down the many sets of steps of the fortress, but luckily, Rask already had everything prepared by the time he reached the ground floor. The garrison soldiers were well trained and more than prepared to set out at a moment's notice. Kalin's eyes glazed over the unit. Around six hundred lances either mounted or mounting. Hardly enough to make an advance party but it would have to do. His own horse was at the forefront beside his commander. Rask sat a full inch taller than anyone, not due to his steed, but his own size. Kalin mounted his own beast of war, a grey stag by the name Silenus. Once his father's horse, it had seen too many battles. Its body bore nearly as many scars as veteran soldiers.

"The messenger has been taken care of," Rask muttered.

Kalin nodded. He reeled his steed towards the gates and gave the command to set out. The soldiers uttered a solitary word of compliance before following after their leader. He hoped the forest would survive its siege. He didn't want to be known as the lord of High House Serene who had failed in an ancestral duty of protecting the people. The forest's inhabitants had strength enough to utterly massacre any probing forces daring to come near. Kalin had tried sending messengers of peace, but they only turned up dead. He had, much like his predecessors, deemed that the forest was capable of defending itself and had left it alone after that. Whoever resided within was not particularly fond of outsiders. Still, he was curious. A small part of him hoped to save the forest and force its inhabitants to be indebted to him, opening a gateway to a relationship.

The contingent moved swiftly through the night, like the shadow of a bird flying by. The Papillion Forest was a hard thirtyish miles from the garrison. Several hours of riding with a few water breaks in between for the horses.

Kalin felt the rhythm of his heart outpace the hundreds of hooves drumming against the open plains. He looked up at the sky, at the plume of smoke whose size only grew the nearer the cavalry contingent approached. He estimated the size of the fire given the rising grey clouds and his heart sank. He hoped it was merely the night sky distorting his vision and making the plumes seem larger than they truly were. The winds grew colder with each passing second as it pressed against the faint traces of glistening sweat on his face. Kalin gripped the reins of his horse tight and leaned in. The beast moved faster, as if understanding the need of its master of many years.

Each short break to rest the horses added another stone's weight of anxiety. The smoke on the horizon only seemed to thicken than lessen.

Moonlight was enshrouded by a passing swath of clouds during the final stretch. The grass of the open plains, wet with condensation, grew dark. Kalin held out his arm, signaling the contingent to slow down as he saw the decline up ahead. An orange glow came from beyond it. The cavalry unit stopped before the decline. Silent whispers ran through the soldiers as they witnessed the sight before them. A burning forest with thousands surrounding it. The thought of failure blitzed through Kalin like a thunderbolt. But more than anything, he felt anger. A boiling rage that curdled his blood —that the Union should have the audacity to strike at Xenaria, at her citizens, under his watch... He breathed out through his teeth. The forest's people were one he'd never seen, but that was an ill excuse for this state of things. Defense of them was still his burden to bear!

The Greyscale River narrowed up ahead, and its banks went unwatched. The Union wasn't expecting an attack from Arcaeus Peak. They intended to burn the forest down in a single night. The Xenarians were outnumbered greatly, but the Union's lines were spread thin to encompass the entire surface area around the forest. Kalin ripped his sword free of its sheathe and stretched an arm forward to signal his charge without alerting the enemies. The least he would be capable of with his hastily prepared contingent was creating a gap in the siege. The Union's trained soldiers would no doubt form ranks to stop him before the siege could be broken entirely. With any luck, survivors of the forest would use the gap to escape. Assuming there were any. And assuming that any would be survivors were waiting at the northeastern edge of the forest.

The contingent put up their hoods to mask themselves and charged down the decline. They formed a thin line to get across the shallowest part of the river. Hooves splashed down on water like a thousand rocks thrown into a lake. If the Astral Union hadn't heard the approaching enemies, they most certainly turned their heads at the vibrating ground as six hundred horses bore down on them. None of the Xenarians uttered a single word as they crashed into enemy lines. The only sounds were of clashing metals and Union soldiers shouting as they were trampled beneath hooves or hewn by iron blades. Kalin's arm swung down, cutting men and equipment alike without discrimination as his horse mowed all that stood before it. Beside him, Rask swung his mighty halberd with twice as much fury, his thick arm not having any trouble wielding a weapon of such length.

The Union was forming their ranks faster than Kalin anticipated. "Harder!" he called. He dug a heel into Silenus' side.

The horse sped up and he held on to the reins tight. He put his focus on keeping his balance rather than swinging his sword. The lancers behind him would trample or skewer any enemies anyway. Kalin planned to create as large a gap as possible before he met with any effective resistance. His contingent focused on speed just as he'd ordered, disrupting the enemy's organization attempt. The fear in their eyes was made evident by the light of the glowing fires reflecting off of their armor and weaponry. They turned tail and ran. A futile attempt. Two legged humans could not out run four legged war beasts.

Eventually, the Union's officers farther down the line managed to create a wall of pike men. Kalin gave the signal for retreat and steered Silenus to the side, his soldiers following after him. They rode down the path they had come. Any Union forces that had survived the thousands of hooves did not survive their second coming. At all times, Kalin kept his eyes to the burning forest. He hoped to see survivors break out and run for the hills with the opportunity he had created. But his rescue attempt was much too belated. Not a hint of a soul could be seen within the flames. Not a hint could be heard either. No cries. No shouts. No one came out. Kalin's breast swelled with shame.

For the first time in his life, the duke of Xenaria had failed in his given duty.