Three Hills, Gatehouse
Typically, at this hour, a crowd would gather, eager to pass through the gates for travel, trade, or other purposes. However, recent sightings of fighting and rumors of a coup had sown fear, deterring most from coming near. Those who had attempted to cross the city gate were turned away, and afterward, no one else dared to make the attempt.
Dame Daniella and Sir Morton had yet to arrive when Farkas allowed his men to infiltrate the area around the gatehouse. Three of them, either notably young or old, were disguised as peddlers, offering snacks and ales and capturing the attention of the conspirators hungry for food.
Their presence was so unremarkable that it failed to raise any suspicion. The conspirators, who guarded the gatehouse, casually stepped out to get the snacks.
Unbeknownst to them, the Black Bandits had encircled the area, preventing any word of the movements of black-armored knights within the city or that the conspirators in the castle were under siege. Every ally they had was intercepted and swiftly secured with bindings and gags.
Now, Farkas allowed more of his men, along with two women, to approach with additional snacks and wine. His hunter's instincts sharpened as he noted the gatehouse's lack of alertness. For him, it was no different than planning an ambush on unsuspecting prey.
"Should we attack?" his aide whispered.
Farkas studied the man, who appeared young for his years. "When the castle falls, these men will flee," he murmured in response.
"I'd rather not chase them outside when we could capture them now," the aide commented.
A smile was on Farkas' lips. "I want to avoid unnecessary risks."
"But what if they locked the doors and refused to surrender? It could turn into a siege."
The smile faded. "I never thought of it," Farkas admitted, then he observed the lack of discipline among the conspirators. After nighttime fighting, their awareness was certainly waning in the daytime, especially when the weather was cloudy and the wind was refreshing.
More guards emerged for snacks, while those returning appeared wobbly from the strong and barely diluted wine.
"You're right," Farkas finally agreed. "We should take it. Ready the men."
His aide nodded, moving to relay the orders.
Their agreed-upon plan was named Werewolf.
In the neighboring provinces of Elandia, there were tales of werewolves: half-human, half-beast creatures that roamed the countryside at night in search of prey. By day, they assumed human form, typically characterized by pale and frail appearances. This pale complexion often led to their being mistaken for nobility, as only those of noble birth, who engaged in little to no manual labor, could maintain such unblemished skin.
"What do you want? Get out! You're not—" one guard turned pale as he realized what was happening. More skirmishers reached the second floor, armed with daggers and short swords.
He ran, shouting, "Intruders!" His warning was the last thing he made before being tackled to the ground and stabbed repeatedly by the skirmishers.
The rest of the rebels were alerted, and soon a brawl broke out as the Black Bandits tried to secure the chamber where the gate and drawbridge mechanisms were located.
Even in the close confines of the chamber, they fought fiercely. Suddenly, Farkas witnessed one of his men get impaled and another lose part of his face to a sword blow.
The skirmishers took a step back, assessing the situation. Noticing this, Farkas stepped forward. A burly rebel dashed forward and slammed his sword down with raw strength and ferocity. He could have easily overpowered Farkas, who wisely dodged instead of parrying.
The man, well protected by ringmail, swung his blade again, yet Farkas was well-trained. Instead of cowering, he drew the man in, luring him toward his ally, who threw metal darts at him.
The dart hit him in the chin and broke the man's concentration. Farkas lunged, showing the agility of a hunter; his short sword struck the man's face.
"ARRGH!" The man lashed out, thrashing about wildly in pain. He became the center of attention, with only a few continuing their fights around him. Despite injuries to his eyes and nose, the burly man kept swinging his sword.
Farkas tried to deliver the last strike but couldn't find a way. One of the senior Black Bandits advanced alone, lobbed a wooden cup at the man to draw his attention, then, with a dagger in each hand, traded blows with the blinded man. After repeated thrusts and slashes, he finally disarmed the man, and, ignoring his pleas, ended the fight with a pommel bash to the side of the head.
Now, the place between them was dyed in red. The stone floor was slippery with puddles of ochre-red blood.
"Yield now!" Farkas shouted to his opponents as his men had secured the entrance to the gate and drawbridge chamber. "The Black Knights have already secured the castle."
This announcement halted the fighting as the conspirators, shocked by the news, hesitated.
"Your allies have been defeated. Lower your arms or face the same fate as the masterminds of this coup!"
The conspirators were skeptical. "That's horse shit!" one retorted.
"We have two hundred men. Don't listen to them," one of their leaders rallied.
However, the sound of horses neighing outside gave them pause.
"It's the Black Knights," warned a lookout. Now, the conspirators started to feel the chill in their feet.
"What say you? The deal is off when the Black Knights arrive," Farkas pressed while quietly signaling his men to continue their plan.
Instead of backing down, the conspirators grew more stubborn. "Fight! Let's fight!" one cried.
Another readily shouted, "The Black Knights won't take us alive!"
Their leader felt the same and commanded, "Charge! Kill them all!"
The rebels rushed at Farkas and his men, trying to reach a small door to escape outside. It would have been a costly stalemate, but the Black Bandits had come prepared.
"Take them down, take them down!" Farkas shouted, and his men, who had smuggled crossbows from below, hastily took aim and sent powerful bolts toward the conspirators.
Six were mortally wounded on the spot. Their ringmails couldn't stop a bolt at such short range. Reeling from the attack, the conspirators' momentum was broken, and Farkas, knowing he had only one chance as it would take a lot of time to reload the crossbows, led his men on a decisive charge.
***
In the finale of the coup, more than half of the conspirators in the gatehouse perished, with fewer than ten surviving, only to be sent to the dungeon.
The men and women couldn't argue but continued their cries alongside the children.
Cutting through the mixed emotions in the room, Daniella said, "My Lord isn't a heartless person. If you swear allegiance and present your House to him, then I could guarantee your lives. If not, then the Black Knights will have your necks in chains."
The senior member pleaded, his head touching the floor. "If we give up the House, how will we survive?"
"The Imperium's law for a traitor's family is death or enslavement," she reminded them, and they recoiled in fear. "However, My Lord will judge you fairly. And if you are found without fault, chances are he'll either employ you or free you with a decent pension. He's one of the rare leaders who genuinely cares about his subjects."
Spurred by the chance to escape this predicament, each one of them quickly agreed to make a written oath.
The Dame felt relieved; after all the carnage, she preferred to see them alive. After all, they were probably innocents, especially the young and the children.
Daniella was rather pleased with this outcome. By securing an intact and functional House for her Lord, she could expect a significant reward for her men. Unbeknownst to her, this would serve as an even greater boon for the entire Lowlandia.
***
En route to Umberland
Despite their new ability to march rapidly, Lansius purposely kept his column at a normal pace. Many assumed the decision was made to allow Lord Jorge's column to keep up, or so as not to burden their vast supply carts. Yet, the real reason was an abundance of caution.
His scouts had been carefully penetrating the mountain region to collect more detailed information. Unlike in the plains of Korelia, mountainous regions proved to be more challenging.
The terrain was difficult, with plenty of cover for men and beasts alike, and it also provided little space to maneuver. A horse-based army would have limited usage in this region.
Finding spots to make camps for such a large army was also challenging. While there were often no other options available, the effort required to ensure security was significant. In such forested and mountainous regions, they could have scouted three days ahead but easily missed an encampment of hundreds of enemies setting up an ambush.
Thus, Lansius had decided to play it safe. Since yesterday, he instructed his troops to wear armor and keep their shields and swords at hand at all times.
In such terrain, he couldn't afford to be careless. The stories of how the Romans lost their legions in Syria, Gallia, and Germania during marches were always at the back of his mind.
Unlike in South Hill, where he could employ his minstrel spies, Umberland was in such chaos that even traveling peddlers or minstrels would look suspicious. Moreover, the bulk of his skirmishers were stuck in Three Hills to guard against a possible coup.
Instead of directing the minstrels into harm's way, Lansius chose to have them play music during the march, following what the Ottomans did for their Janissaries. The marching song kept them in good spirits and took their minds off the monotonous march.
The minstrels also provided much-needed entertainment during rest in the camps while secretly gathering intelligence from their own side. Lansius needed to know if there were morale issues in their fourth campaign of the year. Many had fought for extended periods beyond the traditional forty or even sixty days.
Despite his year-round payments, Lansius still feared a mutiny might brew if any seeds of problems were left untreated. So far, nothing had emerged, so he breathed easy and focused his strategic vision on freeing the Umberland Barony from the marauding Nicopolans.
Soon, he would find his opponent and face them in either small skirmishes, pitched battles, or sieges. Whatever they had planned, he would counter them all.