A contingent of knights stood in front of the Banbury gates, ready to welcome the approaching army. Their squires stood behind them, waving massive flags of both their houses and the kingdom itself. The marching soldiers were happy to see such a warm welcome, but this was just the beginning.

  The streets were lined with even more troops and armored knights. The formation had to narrow a bit just to fit in between the Banbury soldiers, but they kept marching down the main street onto the city square. The civilians occupied the streets and alleyways behind the soldiers and leaned out windows to cheer on the loyalists. Just as they had done back in Westbridge.

  The central plaza itself was far smaller than the one in the capital, but it was clearly the most impressive area in the city. Two different temples stood on opposite sides of it, with a grandiose town hall on the third side. It was there that the city’s leadership awaited Varre.

  The mayor of Banbury, as well as the commanders of the troops already gathered here, stood in formation just by the town hall. Varre led his horse straight to them and they kneeled in front of their king.

  “Welcome, your majesty. I, Baron Gregory of Sherborne, as well as your loyal subjects, have been eagerly waiting for this moment,” one of the knights said. Though they all wore expensive sets of plate, his was a little more decorated than the others. He must have been the commander.

  “Thank you for this greeting baron,” Varre replied and looked to the nobles gathered around him, “you have done well, defending this city from traitors. I look forward to fighting by your side.”

  “It would be an honor,” Gregory answered and stood back up, “now please, come inside your majesty. We have much to discuss.”

  The king dismounted his horse and entered the town hall, followed by his entourage. They were led into a spacious chamber, where a large dinner was hastily being set up on the long tables.

  “We started preparing this meal for you as soon as our scouts noticed your approach. I imagine the journey must have been hard,” the baron said as he pointed around the room.

  “Quite. We’ve been travelling for an entire week,” Varre replied and watched the servants rushing around the room, carrying plates back and forth, “what about the rest of the soldiers? They’re tired too. Did you prepare a meal for them as well?”

  “All of the city’s taverns have been emptied to accommodate your knights, your majesty,” Gregory explained, “many of our wealthiest citizens have also offered to host some of your prominent officers.”

  “And the infantry?” the king urged.

  “They’ll settle in together with the common citizenry, I imagine,” the baron shrugged, “that’s how it’s normally done.”

  Captain Hakon leaned over to his monarch’s ear. “The sergeants will take care of that,” he said quietly, “they’ll find the accommodations.”

  “And the food? I don’t want my troops going hungry.” Varre insisted.

  “Don’t worry,” Hakon assured him, louder this time, “we made sure to send plenty of supplies here from the Crownlands. There’s enough to go around.”

  “Oh yes!” the mayor laughed, “our granaries are overflowing! We even had to start holding food in the town hall’s basement! We could feed two whole armies with what you’ve sent us!”

  “You’ve done well,” Varre complimented his councilors and received grateful nods in exchange.

  With that, the king and his entourage retired to the second floor. The monarch put on his plate armor this morning, in preparation of this small parade, but he needed to remove it before he could eat. Everyone else could also benefit from a fresh change of clothes. Though the upper echelons of the army had constant access to fresh water and even baths on this journey, they had still travelled for hours today.

  Finally, after about half an hour, Varre descended down to the lower floor where the meal was just about ready. He was directed to his seat, naturally the largest chair in the room, and the dinner officially began. Though some stragglers were still missing, the king’s presence was the most important. No one dared to keep him waiting.

  Instead, Baron Gregory started filling him in on the latest reports as they ate. “We’ve got around a hundred knights ready to march, as soon as your majesty gives the order. Then, we’ve got eight hundred infantry, mostly drawn from the local population.”

  “Banbury will be our main link back to the capital,” Hakon chimed in, “I recommend leaving some troops behind to protect it.”

  “What about the city guard?” Varre asked, “doesn’t the city have its own protection?”

  “It certainly does,” Gregory replied, “but it will be a bit depleted. I, and many of my local knights who would normally handle the defense are riding out with you. The city will be weakened.”

  “Plus we are at war. We need to be ready for every eventuality,” the captain added, “I’d recommend leaving some of our infantry behind. Three hundred or so should be plenty, considering the walls.”

  “That would leave us with us with four thousand soldiers for the main campaign. And six hundred knights on top of that, right?” Varre quickly counted.

  “More or less. Fortunately we’ve had very few casualties so far,” Hakon answered.

  “So far?” the king raised an eyebrow, “I would hope so. We haven’t even seen the enemy yet.”

  “Marches always come with casualties, your majesty. Especially ones as long as this one. But I admit, so far everything has been going well. We have plenty of supplies and those herbalists that Gruber hired are doing their job at keeping disease down to a minimum,” the captain said as he looked out the window at the soldiers crowding at the plaza. Their sergeants must have been assigning them to the various houses already.

  “Then perhaps we can leave some of our sick and tired people here. I’ve been riding on a horse and even I’m feeling it,” Varre said and reached behind to rub his sore back, “I imagine it’s far worse for the foot soldiers.”

  “Excellent idea your majesty,” the baron complimented, “the peasants around here are strong and hardworking. We are very proud of our serfs.”

  “Are you?” the king’s smile lowered a bit. That was a strange way to put it, he thought to himself. “I’m glad to hear it. Hakon, will you make the arrangements? Obviously, make sure to leave enough folks who can fight still, but pick some of the most affected to stay with them and defend the city. Hopefully they’ll recover here while we’re out on the road.”

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  “Certainly. I’ll talk to the commanders,” the captain nodded.

  “Might be a good idea to repeat this in the future. We can use Banbury as a supply base and switch tired troops for fresh ones if we need them,” Varre mused.

  “That’s… certainly a novel idea your majesty. I’m just not sure if we’ll ever get the chance to implement it,” Gregory tapped the table with his fingers.

  Hakon rubbed his chin. “I agree. Perhaps we could try it when sieging a castle. Might help us prevent some epidemics, but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to send weak soldiers on such a perilous journey. We don’t want them to spread disease here either.”

  “It’s just a thought,” Varre said and reached for another bagel.

  “It’s very novel! Very novel indeed,” the baron clasped his hands, “with such an innovative genius leading us, this war is already over. Not that the traitors stood any chance to begin with of course.”

  The way he was obviously sucking up to the king was a little too on the nose, but Varre didn’t comment on it. He didn’t want to accidentally embarrass or offend the aristocrat. It’s best to keep good relations with one’s subordinates, he thought to himself, maybe this baron had never visited the capital before and isn’t used to dealing with people so far above his stature. Even if he’s not exactly a commoner himself. He might just be overcompensating a bit.

  As the dinner continued, the servants kept bringing in fresh new dishes. The food was of a high quality. It was clear that the chefs took their responsibility seriously. Though they couldn’t exactly match the standards of the royal castle, they prepared a large variety of different meats, cheeses, and vegetables.

  It was better than what Varre’s had on the journey so far. Though his servants did their best, constantly buying fresh produce in the villages they passed through and making the best use out of the kitchens they stayed at, they didn’t have access to everything. The wagons carried plenty of spices, cheeses, alcohol and other foodstuffs that could store well, but not every village had access to every vegetable.

  The regular soldiers’ diet was far poorer and fluctuated from day to day. Bread would go stale quickly and flour was too hard to transport, so the wagons carried a lot of grain instead. If they were lucky, it could be milled and baked overnight in cities to feed the troops with fresh bread the next day. If not, it would be added to soups and served as gruel.

  The wagons also carried plenty of dried and salted meat, cheese and pickled vegetables. The rations contained a lot of hardtack too, that could be eaten together with the gruel. Though the king had staunchly forbidden looting, the soldiers were free to go out and purchase fresh food on their own as well. Their salaries were very high by the standards of most commoners and they were welcome to spend it to bring some comfort to their everyday lives.

  Now that the army was resting in a larger city like Banbury, the troops had the time and capacity to enjoy some fresher food and recover their health.

  “We’re ready to march as soon as you give the order your majesty,” the baron said as the servants started bringing in the dessert, “how long do you plan to spend recuperating here?”

  “Two days,” Varre answered, “we don’t want to give Clement too much time to prepare his forces and fortify.”

  “That’s an excellent idea. I’ve been sending scouts to the West and can confirm that he started drafting his population as soon as the harvest ended. Even before that in some places,” Gregory explained.

  “How many people does he have now?”

  “It’s hard to say for certain. We estimate around three hundred knights. Then about two thousand peasants,” the baron paused, “but it could be a little more. The villages around Tresannes have been largely emptied in advance of our attack.”

  “He took all of the villagers into his army?” Varre raised an eyebrow, “I doubt the elderly and children make good soldiers.”

  “You’re right, your majesty,” the baron cleared his throat, “Clement’s men moved through the area and had taken much of the food supplies from the peasants. Many were drafted into the army, while the others probably took shelter in the towns. Or fled to other, safer areas.”

  “It’s a good thing we’re not relying on foraging to feed ourselves,” Hakon commented, “it looks like your grain deliveries will make a big difference.”

  The king leaned back in his seat. “Didn’t some guy once say that ‘an army marches on its stomach?’ Food’s important, you know?”

  The captain exchanged glances with the baron. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of that saying before. It’s an interesting way to think about it.”

  “Alright,” Varre realized that the quote was probably from Earth. He quickly changed the subject, “and do we know where Clement is gathering his forces?”

  Gregory started moving some bowls around the table to represent different locations. “It seems it’s in Quendon, your majesty. Around two days away from Tresannes. That’s our first obstacle.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been there before,” the king tapped his fingers on the table, “will it be hard to take it?”

  “It has stone walls, just like Banbury,” the baron pointed outside of the window, “our best bet is that they’ll surrender as soon as they see us. If not…”

  “We’ll have to siege them,” Count Jan finished for him. The senior commander noticed that the men had begun discussing military strategy and joined the conversation.

  “Can we go around? Head straight for Quendon?” Varre moved a spoon on the table, simulating his forces.

  “It’s too risky,” the count shook his head, “especially since we’ll be relying on food supplies from back home. If we leave Tresannes be, they can sally out from the castle and attack our wagons. They’ll starve us. And Clement will just move back into Quendon and wait us out.”

  “We have more people,” Varre offered, “and far more food than he does. Maybe we could increase the patrols, guard the wagons, and wait for Clement to surrender first.”

  “Unlikely. Keep in mind that the harvest just finished,” Jan countered, “they must have taken as much food as possible into Quendon. They’ll be ready.”

  “At that point, it might be easier to just siege both cities at once,” the baron suggested, “we leave a small contingent around Tresannes and lead the main force to Quendon,” he palmed his fist, “we’ll crush them both at once.”

  “Do you know exactly how many soldiers they left there?” the count pointed to the bowl representing Tresannes, “if we leave too few, they can break through our cordon anyway. And if we leave too many, Clement can just choose to fight our main force on the open field instead.”

  Gregory’s expression proved that he couldn’t be certain.

  “Alright. Then we will siege the city first,” Varre nodded to himself, “how long will that take?”

  “If we’re lucky,” Jan roughly estimated, “it should take no more than a couple months. It’s a city. And it requires a constant stream of supplies to keep alive. Even if they did just collect the harvest now, I doubt they have enough granaries to keep everyone fed for long.”

  “And if we’re unlucky?” the king asked.

  “Perhaps as much as a year. Depending on how much they’re willing to sacrifice for the cause,” the count licked his lips, “you’d be surprised how long a desperate city could survive, your majesty. Of course, we could try to assault the walls in that case…”

  “I’d prefer to not damage my own cities, if possible,” Varre smiled, “besides, I doubt they’d be willing to starve to death just to put Clement on the throne. Most of the people there have never even seen him in person, let alone met him.”

  “I agree,” Jan nodded, “which is why the traitors will have to ride out to meet us and break the siege. That’s our best chance to beat them.”

  “Alright, I see your point,” the king looked over to the bowl representing Quendon, “and if Clement decides to stay home after all? How long will it take to siege Quendon?”

  “I don’t know,” the count admitted, “it depends on how much food he managed to store away. Plus, if he decides to hold up instead, he could reduce the size of his army to try and make the food last longer. If he tried to only keep a few hundred of his best knights there, then he could defend for years!”

  Varre could already imagine the massive stream of hundreds of thousands of gold coins flowing out of his treasury to fund such a prolonged conflict. He almost shuddered.

  “I think that’s a better case for an assault.”

  “I agree. And with our wizards,” Jan glanced at Elvira sitting a couple dozen feet away, “we should succeed. But I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that, your majesty.”

  “How come?”

  “Clement’s gathering an army. Thousands of serfs are leaving his lands and those of his supporters. The only reason he would go through all this trouble is,” the count stared straight at the monarch, “if he planned to fight us directly.”

  But as one reader put it in another chapter, 'no plan survives contact with the enemy'. Let's see if the quote comes true.