The Barons' War
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 6
South of Bradford, Barony of Ironwyld
“Another victory for our cause,” Baron Loxon declared, raising his cup.
The young nobleman’s beard had grown wild during the campaign, making him look older than his three-and-twenty years. He wasn’t the only one in a good mood. Outside the command tent, the soldiers celebrated, singing victory songs, drinking and carousing, happy to have made it through another day of campaigning alive.
Baron Ashcombe, the latest of the barons to stand against their revolt, had handled his men poorly, exposing himself to be flanked and his men had been mauled badly. He’d run back to Bradford with his tail between his legs, and with only half the men he’d come out with.
Something for every man in the rebel army to celebrate.
And their prospects going forward looked good. Bradford was poorly fortified, in a bad position, placed more to cover the crossroads than for defensive strength, and left to decay from generations of mismanagement.
It wasn’t a question of whether they would take it, but what they would do after they took the city.
“We did very well, and there are many reasons to celebrate,” Aldric said. “But we are not without our own worries. We continue to bleed men. Three hundred dead, twice that wounded. Too many for a battle in open country against forces that broke after the first charge.”
“They’re several times more than that,” Baron Farrow said. “It was one of the most stunning victories I have ever seen.”
“It’s not the victory, but how we replace those lost men that’s my concern. We’re no longer in River Mark or near the Thunderhorn. We don’t have men coming in from the countryside daily, to join our banners. In truth, they seem more likely to fill my brother’s armies than ours.”
“That won’t last,” Baron Kenilworth countered. “These people have lived under the harshest of Edmund’s policies for more than a year. They joined Fletcher’s revolt, didn’t they?”
“And how did that work out for them? Their leader gutted in his own village and other leaders whose pardons were stripped away now either rot in jails or in the ground, taken by Edmund’s hangmen. Fear is a powerful weapon, one my brother wields well. So no, I do not think we will be getting many recruits here, which means we need to be smart with the men we have.
“I take it you have a strategy to do just that,” Baron Halbrok said, leaning forward on his cane.
“I do, but first, we’ve been getting information that Edmund has been building a force near Silverhall, along the western shores of Twin Lake. A large one. We are hearing that he’s emptying entire villages to man it.”
“How large, exactly?” Loxon asked.
“It is hard to know for sure. Some have told us it’s three thousand while others have reported as high as twelve thousand men.”
“That’s close to the size of the army still in Lynese. There aren’t that many trained men in the kingdom,” Farrow said in shock.
“As I said, it’s mostly conscripts, and that might be an exaggeration. Either way, it means our next move can’t be a straightforward path down the Tradesway to Starhaven. We would be overextended and they could sever our line back to River Mark and Iron Keep. It’s what I would do. We need to put our army between the men at Starhaven and this new army and smash it.”
“If Sinclair were here, he could take a force up the western side of Althear Bay, directly to the Icelanders, and give this new army something else to worry about,” Halbrok said.
“True, but he has his own worries to deal with as well.”
“You mean to say he’s too focused on his own lands and not the kingdom,” Loxon said. “He never could see past his own desires, to what was best for the kingdom ... or even his own survival, long term.”
While there was some truth to that, the alliance they had put together was fragile enough, and he couldn’t see the value in putting distance between himself and Sinclair.
Not if they were going to win this war.
“I’m not sure I agree. There is still a significant army of Icelanders on the peninsula. If Garris were to swing around into Kingsheart, that would leave only the Shatterstone Mountains and the Beck River to hold their army from coming around and hitting us from behind. No, I think we need Garris to clear Iron Keep before going after the Icelanders directly, to ensure we can continue to fight from a secure footing.”
Loxon looked away. Aldric had his own issues with Sinclair and it would be something he’d have to deal with eventually, but for now, he needed them all pointed in the same direction. Focused on the real enemy.
“I think our main focus should still be to clear the Tradesway all the way to Starhaven. Edmund’s army remains half-formed. If we move fast, he won’t stop us before we take the capital and end this nightmare.” Aldric placed a marker on Starhaven. “This also allows William to land with the Rendalia forces and double our strength. If we must push out again afterward, we can do so from a position of power.”
“Couldn’t we leave Starhaven until William returns with his army, while we focus on this army in Silverhall?” Halbrok asked. “Assuming he returns.”
“William will come, but you actually get at my play. We have to remain focused on Starhaven and, if William is going to come across the Sea of Kings and land his army up by Stonehill or Harrowdale, our army pressuring Starhaven will keep Edmund from properly contesting the landing. At the same time, we need some kind of blocking force to keep this new army from coming around behind us. Which is why I am thinking we put in a blocking force, and hold the chain of lakes and rivers that runs from Althear Bay almost all the way to Kingsheart Bay. They’re good, solid bodies of water, and should make it possible for a smaller force to contest rather than a much larger one.”
“You want us to guard from the Umber all the way down to the Redgrove?” Farrow asked incredulously. “That’s impossible. It’s too much land to cover.”
“For infantry, you would be right, which is why I want to split our forces. Nearly every mounted knight and man-at-arms will go with the blocking force, which will be mobile enough if they aren’t slowed down by footmen. Meanwhile, the infantry plus one group of knights, to use for breakthroughs, will continue on to Starhaven.”
“Even with mounted men, it’s weeks to traverse that entire range. We would spread ourselves thin to cover it all,” Farrow countered.
“True, but there are things that could be done to counter that, like burn every bridge you find except the Tradesway bridge, which will limit the crossings Edmund’s men can use to a scattering of fords, which will be slow for peasant conscripts to cross. They will try to put in temporary bridges, but you can counter those. Keep a wide range of scouts out and stay mobile along the river lines, and it should work. We aren’t trying to defeat this army, just keep it on that side of the rivers.”
“It might work,” Farrow said, exchanging glances with Halbrok.
“I’m glad you think so, because I’m sending the two of you to lead that group while I take the infantry plus Sir Alistair’s knights east to Starhaven. That should be enough to distract Edmund, and keep his focus on us. If he reacts without thinking, and doesn’t listen to his commanders, he may even try to move this new army directly at us, instead of trying to come around in behind us. With the Icelanders fixed on holding their prizes in Iron Keep and William bringing his army back in the next month or so, we should win this. Unless someone has a better idea?”
The barons all looked at each other, but none spoke up. Aldric had thought this through, and this was the best way to keep their push from grinding to a halt, and set themselves up for victory.
For now, they were outnumbered and would be even more so when they split off most of their knights, but once William arrived and Garris finished off the Icelanders, the situation in Kingsheart would swing rapidly in their favor.
Or at least that was the plan.
“Good. There is a lot to prepare, and we still have Bradford to deal with in the morning before we split our forces. You should all return to your men and get them ready. If we play our cards right, we can end this nonsense before winter. Ancients go with you.”
The men all shuffled to their feet and began to file out of the tent, several walking close together, discussing their next steps in low voices.
“Sir Alistair, stay a moment.”
The knight looked momentarily confused, or at least contemplative, probably wondering what Aldric wanted, paused and let the other men file out until it was just the two of them left behind.
“Have you heard anything from Rendalia about William?” Aldric asked, collecting the maps he’d had rolled out during the conference.
“No, Your Grace. I thought I would have by now.”
Aldric stopped and glanced up at the knight. There was something in his voice that was off. From the way he stopped to glance at the guards in the command tent, two of Alistair’s own, Aldric thought, it was probably to make sure they were alone for this conversation.
William returning with a large, veteran army was the thing keeping Edmund from releasing his force at Silverhall right away. If people started to believe that he wasn’t coming ... that would change everything, both in their own forces and Edmund’s.
He was right to keep this conversation between just the two of them.
“I haven’t either. Even if they had some kind of delay, they should have been there by now. I sent a wyvern four days ago to Pembroke and received his response only a little bit ago that they had yet to hear from him, or even word of his ship nearing the port. I’m starting to worry.”
“I’m sure he’s just delayed.”
Aldric shook his head, turning to a small table set up against a back wall of the tent and pouring two cups of wine from a decanter sitting on it.
“I hope so. I just don’t want this to drag out any longer than it has to. We only need William’s men to make this a reality. We are so close to winning.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Alistair said, his voice suddenly menacing and cold.
The recognition of the change in his voice barely registered in Aldric’s brain before he felt cold steel pull against his throat. He tried to cry out, but the blade had bit deep, turning his scream into a gurgled, silent gasp. The wine cups fell from his hands, thumping against the carpet laid across the tent floor.
“Your brother sends his regards,” Alistair whispered in his ear.
Aldric clutched at his throat, warm blood spilling between his fingers. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed to his knees, looking up at Alistair, who stared down at him with empty contempt.
Through the haze of shock and pain, a terrible clarity came to him. Edmund had played him again, one final time.
Falling forward onto the maps that charted a war he would never see the end of, he thought of William and Alyssa. He’d failed them, failed to see Edmund’s treachery. They would be on their own now.
He hoped his faith in William wasn’t misplaced and that the boy would win this war. He hoped Sidor would be free from tyranny once again. He hoped Alyssa knew how much he loved her, and he would always be with her, even in death.
And then he hoped for nothing ever again.
Valemonde, Lynese
‘It is good to see home again,’ Isolde thought as the ship pulled into one of the Valemonde’s docks.
Although not the most direct route, taking a ship along the coast and down the Lysmir River was the only way she’d managed to stop Pembroke’s haranguing about her safety. Not that he was wrong. The sea route was far safer than the overland one, which would have required many more guards to ensure her safety.
And it would have required those guards to be Lynesian once she crossed the border. Isolde couldn’t imagine her father, even at the height of his anger toward her, ever doing anything to harm her, but Pembroke’s mind was always on conspiracy and treachery, and he made it clear he would be difficult on the subject otherwise.
She had to admit, it was a more comfortable journey than it would have been in the saddle.
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