The Elder Lands

The next day began with Lucan along with the men-at-arms gathered around the firepit whose flame had long since died. His father had told him that he would need to apprise their men of their aims himself. The knight had once again busied himself with the other noblemen, leaving their camp at first light. With all their levies put under the command of Lord Serys, there was not much for the men-at-arms to do except aid Lucan with the duty his father had burdened him with, and he was happy to share it.

Once the last of the six sat down on one of the logs, Lucan began, “A good morn to you all.” He glanced between them with a small smile. “And an easy one, I may say.”

A few chuckles answered his remark. With no troops for them to put to order, the six men looked both bored and sleepy. Since they’d begun raising the levy, every man-at-arms had been drowned in work. Today, they only had to wake up with the sun and care for their equipment.

“As you all well know,” Lucan continued. “We lost a good man last year. And we remember him for the courage he has shown against the savages of the wild. But we must now shore up our numbers. I’ve been charged with this duty by my father. I want you to spread out and make nice with all manner of folk. Find me good prospects. It doesn’t matter if they’re dashing heroes or unfortunate young men pressed into service. We’re seeking those in possession of appropriate uprightness and skill. And we have the whole campaign to find them.”

A smattering of nods answered him. Lucan saw no reason to delay and gestured for them to get up. “Have at it then.”

The men quickly got up and scattered, all except for Lee who would look over the camp. When only he and the old man-at-arms remained, Lucan spoke. “Will you look over any prospects they find and tell me your thoughts when the time comes?”

“Certainly,” Lee said, his voice reminding Lucan of Thomas in its mellowness. “I advise patience regardless. No amount of wisdom can judge a man without adequate time.”

Lucan nodded. “I imagined as much. But sooner or later, a judgment will have to be made.”

“Indeed,” the man-at-arms agreed.

“I’m off then,” Lucan said, getting up and following the others’ example. Though he had someone in mind as he left.

“Good hunting.” Lee’s voice followed him and he accepted the well-wish with a chuckle.

Lucan passed by the disorderly camp of the irregulars and mercenaries, hoping to catch sight of his quarry, but he didn’t have much luck. He circled around and walked through it this time, still not finding him. After several rounds through the muddy paths between tents, he gave up and marched out of the haphazard mess. Ironically, he ended up finding Joel then. The young man was returning from the direction of the vassal camps. He waved at him and Lucan returned the gesture.

“Good day to you, Master Lucan,” the young man said as they met.

“And to you, Joel,” Lucan said. “Already up and about, eh?”

“Aye,” Joel said. “That I am.”

“I was thinking you’re an exemplary guide and I’d like to see to it that we continue what we began yesterday,”

The freeblade seemed taken aback by his enthusiasm but after a brief pause, he nodded. “Of course! It would be my pleasure.” He turned to walk alongside him.

“Quite the mess you have to bear with there,” Lucan said, pointing with his thumb back at the camp.

“And worse,” Jorel chortled. “I have to leave my possessions in the care of a friend while I’m away if I want to find them when I’m back.”

Lucan guffawed, finding it incredulous. But now that he thought about it, it was no wonder. All manner of men made that disorderly camp their home. Freeblades, mercenaries, hopefuls, and vagrants with nothing to lose. One could never tell who was honest and who was not within such a mixed pot.

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They walked on in silence until they came upon clusters of tents he hadn’t seen yesterday, and Joel began familiarizing him with them.

After pouring forth all he knew about what they saw and answering a dozen of Lucan’s questions, Joel seemed to think he had earned leave to ask a question of his own. “Do you think there will be much merit to be earned through this campaign?”

Lucan couldn’t help but snort. He knew as little about military campaigns as the freeblade if one didn’t account for the books he’d read. And he’d learned not to rely on books for experience. They hadn’t prepared him for the terror of battle, and they hadn’t told him what it would feel like to kill a man and watch as life fled his body. “Have you shed blood?”

Joel shrugged as they walked to the side of a trodden path to let a wagon through. “A little.” At Lucan’s questioning look, he continued, “Subjugating marauders at the three borders.”

“Well,” Lucan said. “Fighting some rabid herdsmen is unlike facing the Wildermen, I should warn you. Many among their number are battle-hardened and those who are not make up for it with pure brutality. But I’m not the one to ask, if I were to be honest. There’s many a man with more experience than I. If I’ve learned one thing though, it is that glory should be the least of your concerns.”

Joel nodded, chastened. He scrutinized the ground for a few moments as the wagon passed by and as they made to move on, he perked up, his eyes ranging far. “Newcomers.”

Lucan followed his eyes and saw riders leading a trail of levies. One of the men-at-arms leading them carried a banner with colors Lucan was intimately familiar with. A cloud-piercing gray tower on blue cloth. House Arden.

“A child?” The incredulity in Joel’s voice was clear.

Lucan was surprised to see Lord Arden’s grandson at the head of the approaching host with the lord nowhere to be seen. Curious, he headed to the point where they ought to join the camp. He saw one of Lord Serys’s men-at-arms meeting the young heir first before the procession continued to an empty plot of land where they would no doubt settle to camp. Lucan changed directions to meet them there and realized that he’d forgotten about Joel. When he looked behind him, he saw the freeblade trailing him with curiosity of his own.

“Do you know which lord that is?” Joel asked

“Yes,” Lucan said, holding back another snort. Naturally, he knew well every banner in the realm, though he knew this one better than most. He gestured with his head towards the column of men. “House Arden. Our neighbors.”

They made haste to the camping grounds. Surprisingly, the boy–Lucan dug through his mind for the name, Ren, was it?–came out to greet him, accompanied by yet another familiar face, Sir Sarin, Lord Arden’s foremost knight.

They met them on foot as tents began to sprout up behind them in a mimicry of what Lucan had seen in their own camp yesterday.

The boy approached gingerly, his bangs shading his eyes and bouncing with his movement. “Greetings, Master Lucan,” he said with rigid dutifulness, attempting to thicken his voice beyond that which was attainable for his age. And if his age wasn’t enough to show that he was not ready for the burdens of leadership, then his apparent anxiety did.

“Greetings, Master Ren,” Lucan said. He was supposed to lower his head slightly for they were of different stations, but he was loath to bow his head to a child. He nodded to the knight who followed the boy. “Sir Sarin.”

The knight nodded back without word.

“Is Lord Arden well?” Lucan continued. He swept his eyes over the budding camp as though looking for the old lord. “I would’ve thought his lordship would be leading the host.”

Ren attempted to hide a grimace, but he didn’t seem learned in the ways of deceit, not yet at least. “My grandfather is…well. And he sends his regards. He is occupied with matters of the fief and I’ve been given leave by His Highness to lead our host in his stead.”

“I see, I see,” Lucan said. Only those who did not know how weak the old man was would believe that. And those gullible enough to believe Ren’s pretense. The border lords were expected to keep some of their men at their territories for plain reasons, but that didn’t exempt them from the duty of attending the campaign in the flesh.

“Ah, I nearly forgot,” Lucan said, turning to gesture at his companion. “This is an acquaintance of mine, Joel, a freeblade and a volunteer in the campaign.”

Joel eagerly bowed as the boy’s eyes shifted to him. “An honor to make your acquaintance, my lord.”

Ren acknowledged him with a nod and a faint smile.

“We won’t delay you further, then,” Lucan said. “I’m certain there’s much to be done.”

“Thank you, Master Lucan,” Ren said. “Please deliver to Sir Zesh our regards.”

“I will,” Lucan said before leaving.

After leaving the Ardens’ camp, Joel had to return to the irregulars’ camp to take over watch from his friend and Lucan found himself returning to his own camp as well.

He found two of the men-at-arms awaiting his arrival. Clifton and Heath. Had they found someone already? As the two rose to meet him, a horn was blown, its sound reverberating through the encampment.

They looked at each other before his father burst out of his tent and looked up as if he could see a hidden missive in the sky.

Well, whoever his men-at-arms had found, they’d have to wait. Because unless the Wildermen had flown over the border territories and waded into the kingdom, that had been the signal for the prince’s arrival.