Taking Them by Surprise (1)

Alpos was a city built on slavery. Countless serfs worked its land, providing vast quantities of grain to the Hols state every year.

Slave owners used whips and blades to keep their slaves obedient. Every year, large numbers of prisoners of war and free people were enslaved for one reason or another. They poured their blood, sweat and lives into the soil, growing grain that their masters could turn into wealth.

The city never lacked wailing or tears. Even if a slave married and had children, those children still belonged to his master. They were slaves from birth and could never escape that fate as long as they lived. They could not leave their land. They could only go on living as tools.

This also gave the city a thriving slave trade. The enormous demand kept slave prices high, making it the best place for slave owners to earn a fortune. Even those far away would make the long journey here just to get a good price for their goods.

These fertile plains also bordered the Empire's lands. To guard against enemy raids, the Hols had stationed large numbers of troops here. That left the slaves with no chance of ever rising up.

At the slightest hint of an uprising, troops would arrive and crush them to pieces. Defeat after defeat had burned a deep servility into their minds. They no longer had the courage to resist.

As the cavalry rode away, flaunting their power, the slaves did not even dare raise their heads for a look. To them, these horsemen were more immovable than the earth itself, and more eternal.

The city's cavalry riding out was certainly something unusual, but it was not necessarily good news for them...

One farmer watched numbly as the cavalry rode heedlessly through his field. The soil he had just turned was trampled solid again, even harder than it had been before he began work. Who knew how much more effort it would take to restore it to the way it had been a moment ago...?

And all because the cavalry wanted a shortcut... One that saved them only a few dozen meters.

The serf bent low again and began pulling the heavy wooden plow. His wife steadied the large implement with a stiff expression. Together, they began loosening the earth once more, using every bit of their strength to turn the soil that iron-shod hooves had packed hard.

The spring sun should have been warm and gentle. Now it bit at his back like a venomous snake. The drops falling from his face into the dirt at his feet could have been sweat or tears. There was no telling which.

...

The respectable citizens on the walls finally stopped cheering, but they were still whispering excitedly. No official announcement had told them what enemy the city's cavalry was going to fight. Yet rumors and unconfirmed scraps of news were spreading among them.

There was no telling how much those stories had been embellished. Their credibility was doubtful.

But the city's slave owners lived in comfort. With production at its present level, there was little available that they had not already enjoyed. The city stood in a strategically vital position and had fought the Empire more than once in the past, but the most recent war had been fifty-two years ago.

For this generation of slave owners, war was only a game that sounded grand and exciting. They had no personal understanding of what it really was.

News of the brutal battle in Bone Basin was merely another topic for their everyday conversation.

They did not know the earth-shattering force of a cataphract charge. They did not know that ranks of highlander archers could loose arrows as thick as falling rain. They did not know the terrifying pressure of imperial legion infantry advancing like a wall...

All they knew was to buy more slaves and have them farm the fertile soil. Then they could turn the grain into untold wealth. Kill someone else's slave, and compensation had to be paid. Kill your own slave, and you suffered a loss... Naturally, the things they said became ridiculous.

A man who, despite being Hols, had eaten until his face was perfectly round was arguing with a companion, his face flushed red. Their disagreement seemed quite serious. They almost looked ready to come to blows...

But one only had to take a couple of steps closer to hear what they were actually saying.

"Carlos! Are you questioning our army? However many imperials come, our troops can wipe them out on the plains with ease! Their horses are faster than the wind. Even arrows can't catch them!"

"You're talking nonsense and twisting my words again! I said we have so many men that the enemy won't even get a chance to come near the city!!"

...

Such cases were rare, but most of the whispered conversations were just as ridiculous and dull.

The city's master watched his departing cavalry with a grim expression. The foolish chatter nearby made the corner of his mouth twitch. He almost turned to make a proper mockery of them.

But in the end, he held back. Though this city belonged to him, it belonged to these people as well... There was no need to offend them over something so trivial. It was not worth it.

He only hoped that useless Toris would prove helpful for once... All five hundred cavalrymen in the city had been sent out, and they were his own elite troops. If they could really surround and kill that force of elite imperial cavalry near Alpos, just as the plan described...

At the thought, his breathing grew heavier. His long, strong fingers gripped the battlement tightly, coating his palm in fine stone dust.

Of course, Toris could not persuade him with empty words alone. Even if this attempt failed, he would not lose out... And the plan really did seem sound. After all, they were only a group of routed soldiers. Elite as they were, a force of this size should be enough.

...

A pair of sharp eyes slowly opened in the woods, then closed again. After repeating this several times, the man finally eased the dryness in his eyes. The thick furs he wore kept out the damp woodland air and held his body warm.

A rapid, muffled rumbling suddenly came from the distance. The highlander immediately focused his attention. Only after the swaggering Hols cavalry had passed did he slowly rise from the shadows between two rocks, where he had hidden without even disturbing the birds.

...

He slowly turned the saber in his hand, letting its bright blade reflect the sunlight coming through the woods. A dazzling gleam of cold light darted over the surrounding trees like a fish, then suddenly stopped on the tent's heavy cloth.

After wiping the excess oil from his long blade one last time, Tesolys stood and swept the saber back into its scabbard.

The cavalrymen waited silently behind him. Their bright, heavy armor had all been covered so it would no longer reflect the sunlight. The warhorses had been well fed with grain and were at full strength.

"Begin."

...