Even though no battle had occurred, it still took the rest of the day to reorganize Varre’s army. The distraction force, led by Baron Khoman, had to be reintegrated into the main force again. Their carts had to be refilled with fresh supplies and the squires masquerading as full knights, reunited with their chaperones.

  The real problem however were the captives. Disarming the rebels, and securing them for transport to Banbury took hours. No matter how cooperative they may have been, no one wanted to take unnecessary risks and have them escape or try to kill some of the loyalists.

  At least this gave Varre’s officers a chance to update the current headcount of Clement’s army. They managed to capture almost eight hundred infantry today. That meant that the main army, the one defeated at Elstercross, consisted of around seventeen hundred soldiers at the time. With five hundred casualties, captives and however many draftees had deserted since then, the rebels were down to just a thousand. Just as Jan had estimated.

  This was an unrecoverable difference. No matter what tricks they tried next, they could no longer defeat Varre in an open battle. Even if they managed to catch the loyalists in an ambush, and fought under absolutely optimal conditions, they couldn’t overcome a nearly four to one difference in numbers. Especially considering Varre’s extensive training program. If a battlefield that could grant them a fighting chance existed, it certainly wasn’t anywhere near this province.

  Clement was doing the only thing he still could. Fleeing home, to Quendon. If he was given the time to lick his wounds and form up a new army, he could become a threat again, in time. That couldn’t be allowed to happen. The next morning the army formed up again and resumed their chase.

  Unlike before, where the two formations were merely three hours away from each other, this time the rebels were ahead by an entire day. While they couldn’t spend that day resting, they didn’t have to desperately keep up their pace at all costs either. They’ve already been marching nonstop since the battle, five days ago. Quendon was another five days away. Ten days without breaks would be grueling and no doubt many of their injured soldiers would die, or get left behind, but it didn’t seem like Clement was all too worried about his casualties. His own life was far more important to him.

  The long journey wouldn’t be comfortable for Varre either, but at least his men had opportunities to rest. They spent half a day in Elstercross, after the battle, to reorganize. Then, another half day here, when they captured half of the rebel army. The loyalists weren’t quite as exhausted. They could now focus on keeping up the pressure as they crossed the ford and continued marching through the rebel territories.

  The local villages were already badly depleted by the war effort, but Clement’s hungry troops only emptied them further. The rebels had to abandon their supply carts at Elstercross and whatever food they happened to carry with them for emergencies was long gone. Now, they survived off of whatever they could loot or scrounge up on the way.

  The few remaining peasants fled if they could, taking refuge in further towns, villages, or occasionally joining Varre’s own army. A camp filled with thousands of soldiers generated a lot of opportunities for jobs and the camp followers always needed more help. Carts needed to be repaired, clothes fixed, and the food cooked. The troopers were paid well enough to pay others for their services.

  The next stop on Varre’s journey was the town of Tresannes. Clement had reached it two days after sacrificing half of his army and loyalist scouts observed him from a distance. Just as Count Jan predicted, the rebels merely picked up some new carts and supplies and kept going on to Quendon, without stopping at the city. A castle was much better at resisting a long term siege than a sprawling city, filled with thousands of civilians devouring limited food.

  Tresannes may have still belonged to the rebels, but Varre had no intention of wasting any more time than necessary. “We need to keep up the pressure,” he told the other commanders, “we can’t allow Clement to recover his army.”

  “Agreed,” Jan nodded, “but we have to be careful too. If we simply pass it by, they can sally out to interrupt our supply lines.”

  “How long would it take to siege them down?” the king asked.

  The count took a few moments to think about it. “I’m certain that Clement had just emptied a sizeable portion of their granaries. And I don’t think they’ve had an easy time replacing what they’ve lost during the previous siege. There’s not exactly a lot of merchants around. They’ll hold for a few weeks at most, I’d wager.”

  Varre clicked his tongue. “That’s still a long time. I’d rather not give our enemies that much breathing room. How likely are they to just surrender as soon as they see us?”

  “That,” Jan smirked, “depends entirely on your offer.”

  “Your majesty!” Gregory protested, “they’ve already rejected your generous offer of surrender! I understand that it may be… strategically wise to renew that deal, but please. We cannot just do that! They can’t get away with open treason!”

  “I agree with the lad,” the count smiled at him, “there need to be some consequences, otherwise everyone will just ignore your first offer of surrender, hoping you’ll renew it at the last moment. And that will have long lasting consequences for us.”

  “But if I make their punishment too severe,” Varre mused, “they’ll just refuse.”

  Jan shrugged. “No one said being a leader would be easy.”

  “Some advisor you are,” the king joked.

  Even though there wasn’t an obvious solution in mind, everyone kept up their high spirits. The war was going well. This was just a minor obstacle to overcome in the grand scheme of things. Varre didn’t even have to make the decision right now. When the army stopped for the night, he could communicate with the Royal Council back in Westbridge and ask them for more suggestions. His army wouldn’t arrive at Tresannes before tomorrow.

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  However, after mulling it over in his thoughts, he came up with a suitable compromise already. “How about this? We won’t punish the city, to encourage them to surrender, but we will focus on the leadership instead.”

  “It could work,” Jan conceded, “the citizens inside the walls can overthrow the mayor and his lackeys. They might deliver his head to us directly. But if his claws are dug too deeply into the fabric of the city, or he has too many personal relations with the guard force, they might decide to hold. Do you know anything about their politics Gregory?”

  The baron hastily waved his arms. “Me? Forgive me, but a noble engaging in some petty squabbles of burghers? I might know a thing or two about Banbury, but Tresannes is a little too far, don’t you think?”

  “Then we’re not going to risk it,” Varre replied, “I don’t care about executing the city leadership. I’ll just take away their privileges and replace them with new people I can trust.”

  “Your majesty! I’d never tell you what to do, of course, but isn’t that a little lenient?” Gregory protested, “they supported an open rebellion against you!”

  “He’s right,” the count leaned closer, “we can’t be seen as weak.”

  “There’s no time to waste,” the king insisted, “Clement gave up half his army to escape. He gave us an offer we couldn’t refuse. Now I’ll do the same to Tresannes. I will not risk them refusing my deal in turn. We’re taking the rebels down now, while we still hold the overwhelming advantage!”

  “Very well,” Jan frowned, unhappy with this decision.

  “All of the city’s leadership and officials will be removed from positions of power,” Varre started counting on his fingers, “I will replace them with people loyal to the crown. Their city guard will be disarmed and temporarily replaced with my soldiers. At least until the war is over. And, if you insist so much, the former leadership will pay a sizeable fine as punishment for their crimes. Is that suitable?”

  “It is,” the count nodded, “we can spin it to our advantage.”

  The next day, the army arrived at the city. The gates had been barred. The loyalist soldiers stationed themselves on one of the hills overlooking the walls, looking as threatening as possible, while a single herald rode up to the fortifications to deliver a new offer of surrender.

  This time, the guards seemed to be taking it much more seriously. Within the hour, the gates were thrown open and Varre could heroically enter the city.

  Unlike Banbury, there wasn’t exactly a lot of cheering as the soldiers paraded through the streets. The offer of surrender was generous, very much so, but many of the people still weren’t sure if the king was going to follow through with it. From their perspective, he was a hideous murderer who assassinated their beloved hero.

  That’s why it was so important to convince the citizens of Varre’s intentions.

  In a grand ceremony, he received new oaths of fealty from the city’s leadership. The scene was intended to humiliate them. They kneeled on the cobble stones in the town center, while the king sat on top of a majestic mount. Still, he honored them and allowed them to stand after they renounced Clement.

  No one was thrown in prison, and the city’s remaining supplies weren’t ransacked. In fact, Varre officially announced that under his rule, steady deliveries of grain would resume and the city would not starve. He had built up more than enough stocks in Banbury, and Lester was still looking for new customers of the massive surplus the increased Crownlands were producing anyway. It was a win win.

  The soldiers spent the night in the city, while the sergeants ensured peace. No one looted anything. In fact, the troopers were eager to spend their thick coin purses on luxuries and comforts the city could provide.

  The former leaders certainly grumbled about their reduction in status, but every other local was impressed by the king’s honorable treatment of the city. Even if Tresannes was temporarily placed under martial law, the conditions within the walls noticeably improved.

  When Varre’s army left the city the next morning, some people actually came out to cheer them on. In the future, Tresannes would serve as another important point to secure the lengthening supply lines. The soldiers meanwhile, enjoyed yet another day of resting. Still, the war wasn’t over. The next stop was Quendon.

  The journey there lasted two and a half days. The army reached the walls around midday, on September 8th. Just as with Tresannes, the columns first arranged themselves threateningly on the nearby plains.

  Most of the rebel army gathered on the walls, intended to deter any assaults, but that may have had an adverse effect. Now, every soldier on Clement’s side could see with their very eyes just how outnumbered they really were.

  As a formality, the king sent out another herald to Quendon, with an order to surrender. It wasn’t as generous as the one made to Tresannes, but it was far better than it could have been. There was no need to lie. Clement was to immediately lay down his arms and surrender. For his treachery, he’d be stripped of all rank and lands, and would spend the rest of his life imprisoned. He’d even lose his noble title. In exchange, both his and the life of all his men would be spared. This was guaranteed by both Varre I, the true ruler of Logres, and Nilo of Quendon. Clement’s own rightful heir.

  The offer was certainly very generous, but it was also what had been promised to Nilo. Regardless, no one expected the traitors to surrender this easily. Indeed, the count immediately dismissed the offer, and urged Varre to give up the crown instead.

  Now, the army settled in for a lengthy siege. There was to be no more mercy. Hundreds of people would doubtlessly die, either from starvation and disease, a deadly assault, or in some last desperate attempt of the rebels to sally out and break through the loyalists’ camp.

  As for Varre, he wasn’t sure what to do with Clement anymore. As promised to Nilo, he had offered the count leniency. Clement was a murderer after all. He hadn’t just killed Mikkel. He killed most of the royal dynasty at the same time. Getting to keep his head at all was already an exceptionally generous deal. Now that he refused it, and the next deal would have to be worse, the king wasn’t certain if the promise was even still possible.

  He’d have a lot of time to think about it, as the siege would take months, before Clement fully exhausted his supplies. The loyalists already had some experience with setting up a defensible camps, and the castle was far smaller and easier to surround than a city like Tresannes was. The soldiers still set up fortifications and watchtowers, ready to send reinforcements if the rebels attempted to sally out, but fortunately, thanks to Nilo’s expert knowledge of his family home, they knew exactly where the hidden back gate was located.

  The rebellion was practically over. Now it was just a matter of time to sit here and wait, until Clement came crawling back for mercy. He was out of options and out moves. The supply lines were secure. Varre’s army was in an unshakeable position. It was the end.

  Or it would have been, had it not be for a fateful message.

  On the fourth night of the siege, Varre settled in his tent for a daily debrief with the Royal Council back home. He did this every night, catching up on the work he couldn’t do during the marches over the last week. He received updates from every advisor and gave out new orders for them to follow.

  Today however, before he could even begin the meeting, Steward Marna interrupted his greeting with a critical message. “Your majesty! Duke Charles, the other pretender to the throne, decided to stake his claim! He’d left his Eastern province already and is calling on all his supporters to aid him in his march on Westbridge!”

  Varre felt the blood drawing out of his face. The rebellion had just turned into a full blown civil war.

  It was just a matter of time, until Clement's supplies ran out and he was forced to surrender, or die in a final charge.

  He certainly hadn't forgotten that.