Horizon of War Series

Chapter 188: Riverstead Blue

Riverstead Blue

Korelia

It was nearing sundown in Korelia, and people gathered in the newly finished plaza beneath its many palm trees. Some came to draw water from the fountain, while others reveled in the bustling evening market with its plentiful food stalls. A guildsman strolled carefreely toward his inn. He had been in Korelia for several weeks, formally employed by a guild but never appearing for duty.

He didn’t need to. He had been sent here to spy on the Lord of Korelia, his true person of interest.

The Lord of this city had been marked as troublesome by the new powers in Midlandia. However, the operation was actually financed and orchestrated by the Lord of Edessa and a few powerful guilds in Midlandia.

The guildsman in disguise cared not for the reason; he just needed money—plenty of it to fulfill his desire to be rich and influential. Rich enough so he didn’t need to work but could rely on his laborers. And influential enough that people in nearby towns and villages wouldn't talk ill of him and his reputation.

He didn’t believe he was asking for too much.

Often, he compared himself to the nobles, who could barely do anything but whine and groan, completely dependent on their servants for everything. In comparison, he was a mage. Surely, it was only just for highly skilled individuals like him to attain the same level of luxury. He believed this was the natural order of things and thus set himself on this ambitious path, unlike his more simple-minded peers.

That drive initially made him a favorite of his mentor, but later, an outcast as he defied the guild's wishes for formal employment with a noble. He reneged, joined the underworld, and sold his services to the highest bidder.

His preferred work was elimination. It was the fastest and most rewarding; it also afforded him plenty of downtime, during which he could relax and enjoy the finer things in life.

Having become accustomed to living in Midlandia or the Capital area, he initially turned down the job in Lowlandia. Nobody wanted to go to Lowlandia. He recalled telling his contact to send others to do the job, but his contact insisted that the big names wanted the most competent. They even tripled his pay, which was enough to make him reconsider.

After passing several shops that did little to interest him, he arrived at the inn in the better part of the city.

It was a reputable establishment, but to him, it was bland, drab, and inadequate. Despite all the fresh coats of plaster and several minor advancements, Korelia remained in his eyes a backwater region, unworthy of all the attention it received.

As he entered the premises, the innkeeper greeted him warmly, "Return from work, maester?"

"Yes, when will dinner be served?" the mage in disguise replied, matching his kindness without sounding fake.

"Same time, we'll have a lamb chop this evening," the old man revealed proudly.

"Lovely, then I'll meet you at supper," the mage said, then climbed the stairs to the second floor where the expensive suites with actual rooms and furniture were located, rather than just a communal wooden hall for sleeping.

As he reached the floor and headed to his chamber, he detected faint magical traces—a rare ability that set him apart. He feigned ignorance, casually continuing with a lowered gaze until a woman waved her hand to him.

She was his contact for this job, a hunter and poison master as well. Standing next to her, he spotted a well-built man whose inconspicuous appearance stemmed more from his casual attire and overly friendly smile than from his physique.

"Don't worry, he's with us," the woman reassured the mage and motioned for the two to head to the corner where a glass window was located.

The two men glanced at each other briefly before following her without question.

The corner was only several steps away but offered a secluded spot surrounded by their rooms. There was only one staircase, reducing the worry about intrusion. The woman started first, explaining to the mage, "He's an acquaintance. He brought details from Edessa and will be joining us on this mission."

The man simply waved his hand, and the mage did a double-take. Despite possessing only small traces of magic, at this close range, even a glance revealed just how absurd his physique was. Unlike mages who used their source to enhance their muscles and bones temporarily, the man must have used a vastly different method.

"I've never met a hunter-assassin before," the mage remarked.

"And nobody will. They don’t exist," he replied casually, dropping his silly smile. "They are just myths perpetuated by foolish nobles. I'm just a hunter on an errand."

The mage turned his gaze to the woman. "I was never informed or agreed to this. I thought they only sent two of us."

"Will this be a problem?" the hunter asked.

"No. Your strength will certainly be a great addition; however, in this line of work, trust and communication are paramount, and we have never met or worked together before."

"I just arrived. We have plenty of time to prepare," the hunter reassured him.

But the mage shook his head. "There’s not much time."

His words tensed up the other two. "What do you mean? Is there a new development?" the woman asked.

"Words have yet to get out, but at least nine half-beasts have just joined the lord’s ranks."

The hunter licked his lips and dropped his facade completely, showing a cold, calculative gaze as he turned toward the window, observing the busy road below.

"This will not be pretty," the woman exhaled deeply, hinting at their unwritten code to make it look natural or, at the very least, like a freak accident.

"It's the least of our worries now," the mage said.

"If you're here, I guess infiltration wasn't successful?" the hunter asked as he turned around to face her.

"Unfortunately, unlike in other places, they don't need a physician, herbalist, or educator. They've got it all covered," the woman explained. "And when we tried to take them out, we learned it was usually for the staff and not the lord and lady."

"Mm, they're quite resourceful," the hunter commented.

"They have capable people," she confirmed, then added, "I wish I could just apply as a cook so this would be over very soon."

The men were amused. It was well-known that cooks were selected through a thorough vetting system and kept under scrutiny. They would be required to work for years cooking for the staff before they were allowed to touch the food prepared for the lord and lady. This was before even considering the food taster's ability.

"How about a direct approach?" the hunter suggested, hinting at an assault.

The woman turned to the mage, who explained, "It's impossible to hit the target at his home. Even at night, the place is crowded with guards. Moreover, I saw faint traces of magic. And they also have half-beasts prowling the vicinity."

The hunter stroked his chin. "Then our best bet is when the lord is traveling. Do we know when he'll be out of town?"

"This is exactly the plan I'm going to propose," the mage responded. "Unlike other nobles, he often travels incognito with a light escort. He uses a modest carriage like guildsmen or guests use, but I have memorized his carriage's features."

***

Lansius

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Today, Lansius traveled to the market. Something had recently piqued his interest, but he had never had the time to pursue it properly. Now, with the telegram earring on pause because of an unknown accident, he had the time to explore this curiosity. One of the new stalls at the market offered something that resembled pasta. The last time they traveled with Audrey, the squire had brought one to appease the lady’s curiosity, and Lansius took a keen interest in it.

It was pale white, thick, and broadly cut, visually more akin to thick lasagna skin, yet it tasted similar to pasta, more so than the one he had in Riverstead.

Lansius knew, sooner or later, he had to develop pasta. Not because of a culinary breakthrough, but to enhance the Shogunate’s food security and resilience.

The importance of pasta lies not only in its taste but also in how it was stored dry, significantly extending its shelf life and making it resistant to mold and spoilage. Unlike wheat, bread, or even hard biscuits, dry pasta can be stored almost indefinitely. They just need to boil it in water to make it edible again.

Now, with the existence of such a shop, Lansius felt that half of the work had been done. While he knew, theoretically, how to make pasta, he had never kneaded the dough himself and didn't know what durum wheat looked like compared to other types. He also didn’t know whether it used eggs or not. He could try to work with the kitchen staff, as he had done with the croissant-like pastries, but he felt it would require a lot of his time and effort.

For the croissants, the chef at least had significant experience with pastry and could recreate the layers to a degree even without a refrigerator. The chef had even experimented alone to make the skin crusty. But pasta was a different matter. Nobody knew what it looked like or how it should taste. They had nothing to compare it to, which made it difficult. Until now.

So, Lansius was looking forward to visit the stall, observing their craft, and seeing whether they actually made it the way he knew. Ideally, he would just summon them to Eastern Mansion and let his chef study their craft, but that would likely invite gossip and attract the guild to start sniffing around.

He didn't want to spoil the guild with another invention, not when he already had them hooked on the southern trade. Moreover, the Lowlandia Office of Works was already busy dealing with spring beds and the new carts with leaf spring suspension. Those two were beginning to generate significant profits for him. Each spring bed sold netted him almost three gold coins in pure profit, while modifications to carriages with suspension earned him a solid five gold coins each.

As for pasta, Lansius wasn’t seeking profit but rather protection against bad harvests.

However, just like other inventions, this would require his presence, and in such a busy market, that would draw too much attention. Fortunately, Lansius had a new tool at his disposal. At Audrey’s behest, Lady Astrid had brought an artisan from White Lake to make several wigs for Lansius.

It was rather itchy and hot at first, but he got used to it. At least he was reassured that the brown hair was selected from clean, noble-born individuals and boiled thoroughly to prevent any issues.

Armed with a new wig that caused his entourage to grin suspiciously, Lansius stepped down from the carriage. Today, he was wearing his old blue tunic, the same one he had bought second-hand in Riverstead. It was still comfortable but now felt tight against his body.

Must be from all the spring riding and the firewood I've chopped.

The blue tunic reminded him of what the old tailor had once said, "You can wear it until you're too old to work."

It wasn’t directed at the blue tunic he wore, but Lansius felt nostalgic all the same.

Wish we could meet again, Keith. This time, I'll buy that red tunic. He mused, making a solemn oath, though unaware of the old tailor’s fate.

His nostalgia didn’t alter his state of mind as he walked toward the busy street, nervously glancing left and right, pleased that nobody looked at him with reverence. Carla and another guard in normal clothes blended in at his front and rear, while another pair of guards walked a distance away.

He hadn't expected that looking ordinary would be so liberating. Nobody scrutinized what he was doing, where he was heading, or what he was observing.

...

"This is good," Lansius remarked to Carla as the two munched on the hot food that resembled pasta. Originally wide and flat, the stall owner had cut them thin, making them resemble broad fettuccine. They enjoyed it with a white gravy sauce and a slice of brown bread.

Lansius paid extra, so they also got some cheese, which unfortunately wasn't shredded on top but was cut into cherry-sized pieces and placed in a corner to be eaten separately.

There were no tomatoes or garlic, but there was plenty of butter and salt from diced salted meat.

"Jans," Carla called, using his alias. The brown-haired Lansius nodded, signaling her to continue. The commotions from the street masked their voices from the rest customers despite their proximity in the small stall.

"You seem to enjoy it; how about bringing several bowls home?" she asked.

"Do you carry two bowls?" Unlike in the modern era, they had no access to easy packaging; even waxed parchment was not inexpensive compared to the price of the meal, making takeaways troublesome if one didn't bring their own bowl or linen wrap, especially if the goods weren't dry.

Carla showed four wooden bowls inside her wicker basket. "Jean told me to bring extra."

Lansius could only chuckle. His wife's preparedness was evident. "Then order for her," he said, placing two copper coins on the table for Carla to take. "Also," he added as he put down two more coins, "get some of the ingredients and a portion of the uncooked meal. Tell them we want to try to make something out of it."

Carla nodded readily. "Do you want me to ask about the egg as well?"

Lansius nodded and gave a thumbs up. They had discussed beforehand the need to secure the flour and a dough sample for the chef to experiment with. In his era, this would be considered corporate espionage. Carla should have seen enough to explain the process to his chef and recreate it to a certain extent.

If things went well, and the chef successfully developed a dry pasta, Lansius would credit the stall owner for his invention and provide financial support. Under his rule, he vowed that no inventor would ever descend into poverty.

***

Lansius rode home in his unassuming carriage, accompanied only by two riders who shadowed them from afar to avoid attracting attention. Inside, he cradled a carefully prepared pasta meal for Audrey, anticipating a warm welcome. Seeing her eat heartily was one of his greatest pleasures. The ride was enjoyable as the carriage had undergone several modifications to its suspension; almost every week, someone from the workshop attempted to implement new ideas, and Lansius gladly lent his support.

They were halfway to the mansion, passing through the newly developed noble quarter, which was still largely empty and quiet. As they rounded a bend, a large tree sprawled across the road, its roots unsettlingly fresh as if it had been felled only moments ago. The guard beside the coachman leaped down to inspect.

"Just a fallen tree," the guard remarked, finding no signs that it had been chopped down.

With no way around on the narrow road, the coachman steered the horses onto the grass to circumvent the obstruction, when an eerie stillness penetrated the air—then shattered into chaos.

With explosive force, a figure burst from the underbrush, his movements blurred by unnatural speed. "We've got company!" the coachman called out as he deftly spurred the horses into action.

The guard who had inspected the tree launched himself toward the assailant. However, despite the coachman’s best efforts to accelerate, the masked man quickly closed the gap and slammed into one of the horses with the force of a battering ram, sending the beast sprawling into the grass and panicking the other.

The panicked horse veered the carriage further from the road onto uneven ground, trapping those inside from leaving.

The assailant gave chase, sprinting with an unnaturally long stride. The guard might have given chase too if not for a dart that struck him in the back. He turned, brandished his sword, and after several attempts, managed to pull out the dart, the tip so fine it penetrated his ringmail. The odd burn he felt confirmed it was poisoned. Realizing it was a well-planned ambush, he stood his ground instead of pursuing, knowing another attacker was likely aiming to finish him off.

The guard calmed his nerves as he reached into his inside pocket. Expecting an attack, he sidestepped a sudden flash. Instead of charging toward the source, he calmly twisted the item he had retrieved—a small, waxy paper container. Initially, nothing happened, but then an oily liquid seeped out, igniting to produce rich, blue smoke.

Watching this, a woman emerged from her hideout, charging toward him. The guard recognized her clothes. She was the same woman who had brought flowers and carrots to their horses at the market.

The realization that they had been blindsided didn't dishearten the guard; instead, he sported a wide, threatening grin. He might have been tricked, but he knew he had disrupted the assailants' plan. The fact that the woman charged at him proved he was doing something right. "Come," he taunted, his throat feeling dry and suffocated from the poison. "You shall see what the Black Lord has taught us."

The lone guard prepared his stance, his form immaculate and precise. Soon they clashed, trading blows that sent sparks flying from their finely honed steel blades. One protected the smoke signal with his life while the other tried to take it out.

Meanwhile, inside the carriage, the situation had turned worse. Lansius felt the world lurch as the horses panicked, their cries piercing the inside as they reacted in terror. The warm pasta he had carefully packed was now splattered everywhere.

"Can you see anything?" Carla shouted as she and the other two guards tried to find the assailant through the window, but their world soon turned upside down.

"Hands over your heads and curl up," Lansius shouted to his men, bracing themselves for the worst.

"My Lord." Carla grabbed him tightly while the carriage began to roll. One of the guards also reacted instinctively, wrapping his arms around them and using his body as a human shield. The carriage tumbled, slamming them against the side. The world outside turned into a dizzying blur of earth and sky.

A crushing thud marked each impact, accompanied by sharp, piercing shrieks as Lansius and the others were jostled mercilessly. The wooden frame of the carriage groaned and creaked under the enormous stress. The sensation was overwhelming; pain and wooden dust assaulted everyone’s senses.

Finally, the carriage came to a shuddering halt, lying on its side amid a chaotic sprawl of wooden debris.

Inside, there were wild coughs and groans, but all Lansius could see was red.

Outside, the assailant, muscles bulging and eyes wild with bloodlust, paused to observe the wrecked carriage. He had exerted tremendous force and then sprinted a great distance to chase the running carriage.

A rider approached him, wielding a steel bow. He had been the one who took out the coachman and the second horse. "I saw no other threat," he said from atop his saddle, calm and in control despite the carnage. "No knight, no mage, and no half-beast."

"That we know of," the first assailant replied, breathlessly.

The rider smiled, looked around, and commented, "I'm glad we followed your plan. And the drug for the horses worked wonders." He glanced toward the two dead horses. The drug accelerated their heartbeats, pushing them into panic. This caused their hearts to race uncontrollably, bursting veins or damaging their brains, ultimately incapacitating or killing the beasts outright. The blunt force to their body also served as a great catalyst to spook them.

The two observed the silent wreckage. Nobody emerged.

The first assailant tapped into his magic source again and regained his breath. "Let's finish this and flee the city. One must not tempt Fortuna."

***