Upon hearing the news, everyone’s panicked. Langogne? At this time of day, at this time of year, in this part of the country, localized entirely North of Elstercross? Preposterous.

  Then, once their heads cooled off for a bit, came the analysis. As the army stopped for the night to rest in the safe village, the commanders met in one of the inns to discuss their strategy.

  “Clement started his rebellion three months ago,” Jan reminded everyone, “shortly after Mikkel’s assassination. The bastards in Langogne have definitely heard about it by now.”

  “They’re trying to attack us in a moment of weakness,” Gregory slammed his palms on the table, “dishonorable! They know they could never beat us in a fair fight!”

  “Here’s what I don’t understand,” Varre scratched his chin, “we have spies in their capital, my Chancellor has assured me of that many times. But she hasn’t noticed any movements or preparations for war from their side.”

  “It would take months for any reports to arrive, but you’re right,” the count conceded, “she should have noticed by now.”

  The king asked Captain Hakon if he had heard anything more from the council, but he denied it. “As far as I know, the situation in Langogne is stable. There’s been nothing suspicious happening over there. At least, not until now.”

  “What about Charles? There’s no way they’ve heard about that yet, is there?” Varre asked.

  “Don’t think so,” Hakon glanced out the window, “the news had barely reached Westbridge. It’d take another week before it even gets to Banbury.”

  “The only reason we know already is because of the communication magic,” the king mused.

  “Clement probably knows by now,” Jan continued, “we’ve still got no idea if they’re both working together, but all it takes is one spy, or one soldier spilling his secrets while drunk, and the news is out there. We might as well assume that he found out over the last few days, even if those two traitors are working independently.”

  “Of course they’re working together,” Gregory crossed his arms.

  Varre ignored the outburst. “But not Langogne. We’ve just found out about their presence. Even if they had spies in our midst, there wasn’t enough to get that message out.”

  “Right,” the count nodded, “unless this has all been planned ahead of time. Perhaps they knew that Charles would attack around now and they launched an invasion right on schedule.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Hakon argued, “you may not like to hear this, your majesty, but Charles has a good reputation. Or had before… this. Even if he wasn’t on good terms with your predecessor. He fought against Langogne twenty years ago and he is most likely banking on a return to the old days. Probably calling himself the true rightful king and all that. There’s no way he’d cooperate with our greatest rival. He’d get no support that way.”

  Gregory spat.

  “What about Clement then?” Jan asked, “his lands were decimated during the last invasion. He wouldn’t just turn around and invite a new conqueror in. His reputation would be ruined! But the timing…”

  “And the direction,” the baron continued, finally seeing a point where he contribute, “their heartlands are to the West. Far beyond Quendon. In the previous war, they came from out there! Why would they waste their time and energy with this detour? Going all the way North and leaving Clement’s territory untouched?”

  “Could they be trying to capitalize on the battle in Elstercross?” the count frowned, “it happened three weeks ago. That’s not a lot of time to plan a whole invasion around…”

  “There’s no point in debating this now,” Varre cut the discussion short, “we need more information. Send out some scouts North. We need to find out where they are exactly, and how many soldiers they’ve brought,” he shut his eyes, “and worst of all, I think we need to have a chat with our favorite rebel.”

  Right now, there were simply too many unknowns. They knew that Langogne’s force was North, but that was it. They didn’t even know which side of the river they were on. Perhaps it made sense to fortify Elstercross and defend the bridge, while the supply lines remained safe.

  Or, as much as Varre hated letting Clement get away with his rebellion, perhaps the two would join forces in the face of this new threat. If giving the count amnesty was enough to stop this new threat, the king was willing to consider the sacrifice. Of course, Charles was another issue, but he was still hundreds of miles away. He couldn’t help here.

  The riders couldn’t travel very far under the cover of night, but as soon as dawn broke, they rode out with new orders. Most were dispatched North. Travelling along both sides of the river. Thousands of invaders travelling on roads were impossible to hide and they weren’t particularly fast either. News of their movements must be spreading far and wide, reaching taverns and villages. The closer they got to the main army, the more accurate the latest reports would get.

  A smaller group of horsemen travelled East, ready to visit Clement’s camp. They carried white flags, signifying they were only there to negotiate. This was one of the reasons why they had to wait till morning. They’d be attacked on sight, if they tried to reach the rebels at night.

  Despite initial fears, even Clement wasn’t willing to throw aside this ancient law and the heralds were allowed through. The two armies kept their distances at a safe six hours, though fast travelling horsemen could make it in about four.

  The message was short and to the point. In it, Varre informed the rebels that the situation had radically changed. Langogne had crossed the border and began a new invasion of Logres. Under the circumstances, unimportant conflicts had to be thrown aside. The king was graciously willing to offer the rebels amnesty, if they agreed to set aside their differences and join his army in the coming war.

  The offer was extremely generous. Clement was a traitor. A murderer who killed the king and dozens of the highest ranking nobles in the country. Anything that allowed him to keep his head was a miracle, especially after his previous refusal to surrender. But there was simply nothing else that Varre could offer that could entice the rebels to abandon their cause. No one would fight, just to get punished afterwards anyway.

  Despite that, the enemy took their time in drafting a response. The loyalists even started to worry that the count had gone completely insane and the he was going to execute the messenger after all, but finally, a response arrived in the evening.

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  Vare opened the letter and read it aloud to his other commanders.

  “By the gods,” Gregory covered his mouth, “he really has gone mad!”

  “The bastard wants independence? He wants the entire Western province to break away and become its own country? Ridiculous!” Jan yelled out.

  “So what? He doesn’t even want the crown anymore?” Varre threw his arms in exasperation.

  “Maybe not. Not with Charles around who has a legitimate claim to the throne,” the count said slowly.

  “Your majesty…” the baron said slowly, “you’re not really considering it are you?”

  “Of course not,” the king dismissed the notion, “I’m not going to give up all that land for a mere thousand soldiers. He must be kidding himself if he thinks he had a chance.”

  “I agree. Amnesty was already far too generous for a traitor like him,” Jan nodded to himself.

  “What do we do then? Do we just refuse him outright? He’s obviously not going to join Langogne, but if he doesn’t join us then what? Will he go home? Fight by himself?” Gregory theorized.

  “I don’t know, but I hope he’s just setting his initial counteroffer ‘high’,” Varre replied, “we’ll send a new message and explain his position, in case he misunderstood where he really stands. Tell Clement that we want to negotiate in person. That’s his last chance to keep any semblance of power. He needs us more than we need him.”

  Yet, again, the rebels were in no mood to hurry or continue the negotiation. The king’s message reached their camp just before nightfall, but despite reassurances that it was fine for the herald to return during the night, it wasn’t until the morning that Clement finally sent his answer.

  Varre read it and immediately crumpled it up, throwing it to the side.

  “What did he want?” Gregory asked.

  “No compromises. Independence is his final offer,” the king facepalmed.

  “He’s gone mad! There’s no negotiating with fools like him!” Jan replied.

  “Then so be it. We’re just wasting time here. We’ll fight this war without him,” Varre said and ordered the army to move out.

  They may have spent a full day in Elstercross, but it wasn’t a complete waste. The soldiers took this opportunity to rest and recover. Though, if they knew just how close the enemy really was, they would have kept on marching to Banbury instead.

  As it turned out, they only found out the truth while on the road. Banbury was two days away, and to Varre’s great dismay, so was Langogne’s army. Not only that, they were Northeast. On his bank on the river.

  This meant that holding up in Elstercross made no sense after all. The bridge wouldn’t serve as a barrier. It would just end up trapping the loyalist army harder.

  But there was a problem. Langogne directly threatened Banbury now.

  In the worst case, Varre had planned to retreat into the city. Since it was built up as the main logistical center for the entire army, Lester made sure to send plenty of grain here, as it was being harvested from the Crownlands. The granaries were overflowing. Even with the thousands of soldiers and citizens that needed to be fed, the stocks would last for months.

  No matter how big of an army the enemy brought, they couldn’t assault powerful walls like these. Their only hope was to starve Varre out. The war wouldn’t be easy, Charles would definitely request a heavy price in whatever negotiations needed to occur, but most of the realm would rally at the chance to fight their greatest rival. And communication mages would ensure that the kingdom could continue to run, even with the king stuck here.

  Unfortunately, this was no longer a safe option. While Varre wasted his time arguing back and forth with Clement, Langogne kept on marching. They were heading straight for Banbury, either to siege the city, or at least cut off his supply lines.

  If the loyalists hurried, they might just make it in time. But this was a huge gamble. The scouts’ reports weren’t perfectly accurate, as both armies kept on moving and it took many hours for messages to make it back, but it seemed like Langogne was closer. At best, Varre might make it at the last second. But in all likelihood, he’d either be late, or arrive just in time for the enemy to smash into his disorganized army as they crammed by the gates.

  At least there was no risk of starvation. The king made sure to stock up on food since the previous time the rebels cut off access to grain. Though even then, there was a limit to much his carts could feasibly carry. At some point, feeding the animals pulling the wagons would require more storage space than they could hold. Not to mention the effect hundreds of carts had on the army’s speed.

  Right now, he had enough supply for two weeks. And that was more than enough to allow him flexibility.

  Luckily, the reports did bring some actual good news. Apparently, Langogne had only brought around three thousand soldiers. That was less than what Varre had, but that only brought more questions. The enemies knew they were invading a foreign nation. They should have raised a far larger army than this. Their experiences in the previous war taught them better, and yet they didn’t. Was this all it took to avoid detection from the Chancellor’s spies? Keeping the number low?

  Regardless, this meant that Varre could feasibly beat them in battle. The commanders’ priorities changed. Rather than focusing on escaping into safer territory, they could now turn to searching for a good location for a battlefield.

  Langogne could always refuse a fight, but it was unlikely. They were on a time limit. They operated deep in enemy territory and in their rush to get here, they hadn’t secure the castles behind them, or efficient supply lines.

  Then again, that wouldn’t have helped much. Varre’s setup was unique in how much it relied on shipping grain from his massive Crownlands. Every other army tended to rely on looting, but there was still only so much they could gather in a given area before they had to move on. Especially this close to an enemy force. They couldn’t just disperse to forage on miles of territory, as Varre could punish that with a concentrated attack.

  Jan was confident that Langogne would take the battle if offered and so he presented that option. On his terms. He found a sufficient battlefield. A large, rolling hill, with only a small hamlet on top, surrounded by open fields. The grain had been harvested a while ago, and now the soil offered plenty of room to maneuver around.

  Varre’s army occupied the hilltop the next day. As expected, Langogne took the bait. Once their own scouts confirmed that the loyalists weren’t heading for Banbury, they changed direction, marching straight for their enemies.

  Clement though, was a surprise. He kept following Varre, staying at the same, safe distance of six hours away, but the king couldn’t be sure what the rebels were after at this point.

  Had they changed their mind? Were they going to support him after all now that they noticed the threat themselves? Perhaps they wanted to repeat their offer, at the eleventh hour, hoping Varre would take it?

  And what about their price? Had they realized how unrealistic their demands were and were now willing to go down in cost?

  Or maybe they hoped that their support in battle would be enough to convince Varre to grant them independence in the end? There was no way that was going to happen. Especially now that the loyalists knew they could face Langogne without any assistance.

  The truth was even stranger, as everyone soon found out.

  As the loyalists occupied the hamlet and fortified their wagon train as much as possible, Langogne had finally arrived. At first, they arranged themselves behind the tree line, watching from a distance. Once they confirmed that Varre was in no mood to charge them blindly, allowing them to form up instead, they split their army into three units. One blocked the North, one East, and one West.

  Then, Clement finally arrived. He came from the South. But instead of arranging himself into a combat formation, or rushing towards the hill to join his fellow countrymen, he laid out his troops in the distance. As if he meant to block Varre in.

  The suspicions were proven when Langogne’s army met with the rebels. Rather than start combat, they appeared to join forces, completely surrounding the loyalist forces defending their hill.

  The impossible had occurred. The rebels, the very people who suffered under Langogne’s previous intention, had thrown all reason to the wind and joined forces with their enemies.

  Fortunately, Varre wouldn’t be left to gape at the scene in confusion for too long. Clement decided to try negotiations again. A lone messenger arrived, asking for both sides to parlay again.

  “Francois of Saint Lupien, the Duke of West Aubin, and Clement of Quendon, the Count of Quendon, are graciously offering you this chance to negotiate,” the herald announced.

  Clement wasn’t willing to talk in Elstercross, but now that he felt he had the upper hand, he finally agreed to parlay in a neutral location.

  The king gathered his honor guard, his closest advisors, and they set off to the designated site in the middle of the open field. Perhaps, this rebellion could be ended without any more bloodshed after all. At the very least, Varre wanted to learn the truth for himself. Had Clement really been working with his ancestral enemies all along?

  Why has Langogne only brought such a small army?

  And how does Charles fit into all this?