I've started traveling through various villages in Battania again, continuing to expand my troop, recruiting all the way to the city of Ca-Sebans.
I plan to sell my loot here and then upgrade my own equipment and weapons. After all, I have money now—it's time to gear up properly. My previous armor and helmet were too thin, and I've suffered so many losses because of them. It's frustrating—I always wanted to charge into battle, but I was afraid of getting shot dead by enemy arrows. I quickly outfitted myself with a new set of armor and swapped my horse for a war mount.
Before this, I'd been riding generic horses, and after a few battles, I'd already gone through several of them. I never had the chance to get myself a good steed.
This time, the loot I sold fetched over thirty thousand denars, bringing my total wealth to nearly a hundred thousand. With a small army and low expenses, I'm practically a wealthy landowner now.
Once I expand my forces to a hundred men and train them all into elite soldiers, I'll be unstoppable. Unless faced with a massive army, I won't fear anyone.
I silently plotted my next moves. After staying in Ca-Sebans for a day, I resumed recruiting. But for some reason, soldiers have become incredibly hard to come by. Each village only has one or two archers available for recruitment, and some don't even have a single trained soldier—barely any young men either. Is Battania's war situation really this dire? I haven't heard of Battania being at war with anyone!
Suddenly, a sense of foreboding washed over me. If Battania isn't currently fighting another kingdom yet is recruiting so aggressively, there's only one explanation—they're stockpiling troops to declare war on someone. And most likely, that someone is Swadia.
Right now, Swadia and the Western Empire are locked in a fierce conflict. Battania borders Swadia, and their relations are fraught with complex tensions. They've fought many times before, with Vlandia usually coming out on top. Battania wouldn't miss this opportunity.
With most of Vlandia's forces concentrated near Lageta and the Western Empire's border, Battania will surely seize the chance to capture a few frontier castles.
As I analyzed the situation, I ordered my troops to pick up the pace and leave Battania's territory. But I was too late—Battania had already declared war on Swadia.
All of Battania's lords received the king's command, and the news spread across the realm. We learned of it from a passing merchant caravan. We continued marching toward Swadia, but during the journey, I noticed the morale of my Battanian soldiers had dipped. They knew they were following me, and I was currently sworn to Swadia. Now that Battania and Swadia were at war, they'd inevitably face the prospect of fighting their own people.
I called for a brief halt and used my silver tongue to reassure them:
*"I know most of you are Battanians, including the new recruits. Though we're temporarily employed by Swadia, it's only out of necessity—just like why you follow me. It's all for the denars. War isn't started by common folk like us, but by nobles and rulers. You might see them as your kin, but do they see you the same way? They'll send you into battle for pitiful pay, and even if you win, what do you really gain? Ask the veterans who've been with me—after every battle, haven't I shared the denars with everyone? They earn ten times more than what other lords offer. And one day, when I hold a town—or even establish my own kingdom—I'll grant every loyal soldier land, tax-free. Whatever you grow will be entirely yours. I'll build a prosperous nation where you can take pride as its citizens. So for now, any battles we fight are just for survival, for more denars, for more land."*
Grand promises work in any era. The moment they heard about owning land tax-free, many grew excited. In these times, land belongs to lords and landowners—most commoners have none. They're tenants, even serfs, living in poverty under heavy taxes.
After the pep talk, I ordered the troops to rest and prepare a meal. Words matter, but so does food. My men eat well—bread, meat, fruit, nothing spared. I've always believed good food fuels good fighting, and my veterans agree.
Just as we finished eating, a lookout shouted:
*"Captain, riders approaching!"*
I turned to see several horsemen, led by a figure in traditional Battanian garb, a bow slung across his back. He halted a dozen meters away and called out:
*"Swadian, surrender, and I'll spare your life."*
I mounted up and rode forward slowly. *"And who might you be?"*
*"I am Ergon, of Fen-Dengil, one of Battania's oldest bloodlines—lord of Dunglanys. State your name. I'd know who I'm fighting."*
*"I'm Gattar. Maybe you haven't heard of me, but you'll remember me soon. I won't surrender. If you want a fight, bring it."*
With that, we returned to our lines, and the enemy charged. They had about a hundred men, mostly infantry. Same old tactics, same approach—only this time, they had few shields and just two cavalry. Pure cannon fodder, giving us free experience.
I arranged my archers in three staggered lines. Since we were in a forest, many arrows hit trees, but my twenty-plus champion archers made up for the others' lack of precision.
The enemy, stubborn as ever, marched steadily under the hail of arrows. By the time they reached us, over two-thirds were down. Their shieldmen, overconfident, charged blindly without checking if anyone was left behind.
Predictably, the dozen or so who made it to our lines were quickly cut down. But I let their lord go—a small mercy to ease my men's conscience.
Another crushing victory. What was that lord thinking? Did numbers alone guarantee success? Why provoke us?
As my men scavenged the battlefield and archers replenished arrows, I sent out scouts. We were in enemy territory—another force could appear any moment.
Sure enough, a scout soon reported:
*"Captain, troops approaching our left flank—likely drawn by the battle noise."*
*"Stop looting. Set an ambush behind that ridge,"* I ordered.
Soon, enemy scouts arrived, cautiously inspecting the carnage.
*"A recent battle… but why so many of ours and no enemy bodies? Most died from arrows—was this infighting?"*
Hearing that, I sensed the unease among my Battanian troops. It *was* kin killing kin—just under different banners.
The scouts left a few to guard the site while others reported back. Before long, the main force arrived—another hundred or so, all infantry. As they examined the corpses, I yelled:
*"Loose!"*
My archers rose and unleashed a volley. The enemy, clustered and unprepared, fell in droves. The first barrage alone cut down nearly half.
Their shieldmen reacted fast, forming a wall while the rest ducked behind. Professional soldiers indeed—they knew their drills.