While Lucius had been able to foist the violence upon others when the dock workers rioted, there was no such trickery to deal with the veritable tribes of brigands. While Lyam stood trial before the king, Lucius von Solhart was given a company of men with their allegiance to the Feugards and he was sent north.
Golden travelled with him, and the former angel knew some of my necromantic magic. Birds were felled and reanimated, to soar above the trees. Even the freshest of bandits knew to hide their smoke and sleep well away from farms and from roads, but it is the natural way that any camp, lived in long enough, strips the land away of trees and coverage. Humans yearn for a place to call home, even if it is but a hill or a cave. They carve it to their liking, even if the change is nothing more than a latrine. Deadfall is burnt away to warm their bones and cook their food, before they turn steel to trunk and fell trees for more fuel. And so it was that Lucius encircled camps with uncanny ease.
Little needs to be said of what happens when a hundred soldiers engage with a few dozen hungry and cold bandits. The first group he found had a chieftain of small note. He was of mixed blood between human and troll, blessed with a supernatural sense of smell. He had been a hunter in previous years, able to scent venison from a mile away and able to hurl a spear as far as an archer could loose an arrow, with far more destruction. He alerted the group to the smell of approaching steel, but his first action was to flee. They did not fortify, but cast away their meager camp to charge into the woods. The scent of steel turned them aside, only for them to run at another line of soldiers, the group of half-trained thugs disintegrating to less than a mob. Men took their lives into their own hands, thinking they could escape only to find the encirclement quite complete. Nothing but spears and arrows awaited them. It was the chief of the bandits that put up a fight.
His spear throw nearly broke the line of Feugard men. His spear throw punched through shield and armor, felling the soldier it struck. Lucius had marched in from the front, from which the bandits had fled. He broke ranks with the soldiers to rush toward the combat. He had to cut down two bandits to get there, flowing through sword strikes like he was performing upon a stage. He had no need for subtlety for he had no need to respect their skill. He struck firmly and unflinchingly, cleaving through feeble guards and pushing through their frightened footwork.
Even for a swordmaster, fighting a foe of twice one’s size, wielding a weapon with greater reach, is a daunting task. The battle was a mess of soldiers penning in and subduing bandits, lethally as often as the bandits surrendered. The ground between Lucius and the chief was their own. The trollkin’s spear lashed out like serpent strikes, pounding against his meager shield. Lucius showed no fear, fighting low and threatening to hack through the trollkin’s hamstrings. The duel lasted until the speartip caught inside the tacked-on hide covering of his shield. It twisted and tangled, giving Lucius a moment to cleave through the haft and splinter it. One step in and he plunged the blade up through the startled bandit’s throat.
Word soon spread to the other gangs of villains, but still they were tracked down. Dozens of men were handed over to local garrisons, often kept in prisons no more than pits in the frigid ground. Such could not be kept secret, particularly when he had to engage with the tedious business of verifying deeds of sale. The gold of merchants was of far lesser value than stealing entire estates Austin Feugard had put onto the market.
It was the final round-up that earned him the most infamy. One such forger was on the run, allowing Lucius to follow him eastward. A score of injuries had reputedly weakened Lucius’ force of soldiers and he was hard put to give chase, they believed. In truth, from the beginning, Lucius had marched with a portion of his troops in reserve, moving injured men back and replacing them with fresh troops as he went. The reserves were a bloody lot by the end, it’s true, but they didn’t have half the march that his active killers did. With arrangement by carrier crow, they reached the untamed forest before the bandits. There, they formed a hammer and anvil with Lucius’ pursuing force, but they were the hammer and he the anvil.
Grapeshot shredded down the ragged column of bandits, with armored men seeming to emerge from the trees themselves. A second salvo struck before orders could be shouted and then they ran. The vagabonds turned on their heels and rushed from the surprise attack, falling upon spear and shield with Lucius at the front. Had they stood and fought, they could have broken through the ranks of ragged cannoneers, but the boy wasn’t called the Gambling Lion for nothing.
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Many remarked upon his risky tactics in battle, all stemming from the continual disbelief that a commander would lead from the front. Even with the full knowledge that a hammer blow could dash his brains across the ground and he would soon be back up, people could not help but marvel at him. And so, they did not realize his greatest gamble was in leaving Forum at all, at such a critical juncture.
During his absence, news most tragic returned to the little Solhart manor. The secret could not have been lost forever. Indeed, there was only a small delay of inquiry before word was sent but it was sent far to the south and had to fly back north. Lady Solhart had been slain. Her carriage was set upon, her guards punctured by arrows or cut down, her diminished funds stolen, and her life taken. The king quietly dispatched a company of soldiers to scour the land between the capital and Forum. They broke down doors, searched attics and barns. Every pawn broker in that half of the kingdom was searched for the various rings, brooches, and such paraphernalia as Lady Solhart was known to have, all in hopes of finding the men that had cut her down.
Nothing was found, not in Vassermark(1), and no evidence could link the killing back to Lucius. Once more, the king had nothing more than his beliefs, even if they were correct. A king cannot always act on belief alone. A girl alone, bereft of friends and now of family, can act most audaciously.
Aria vi Solhart received the news while away from the manor. Theo Montem had sought her out himself, while she was having tea with one of the lesser nobility of the Feugard domain. The older woman had been trying to make a show of good faith with her knowing both her position with Austin and that her stability relied upon Lucius’ marauding of the bandits. It made her easy for the leader of the Warden Blades to find her.
In her shocked and distressed face, Theo read exactly what he wished to read. A shred of surprise and much fear. Theo was unable to monitor Lucius while he was on the king’s business, despite his many protests. The fact that any army the boy was given was loyal to the king was considered sufficient safeguard. He could turn his gaze upon the others of Lucius’ inner circle during these times and he was rightfully convinced that she was the weakest of links.
The news broke her, and broke her faith in Lucius. With noble dignity, she hardly showed it. Her answer was curt. “I must arrange for travel.” She did not go back to the manor. It was filled with her enemies. It was true they had fed her, provided her with spending money and protection, and had time and time again proven that they had no intention of harming her. She was even trusted with the care of Alexander. All right-minded evidence indicated that Lucius truly felt that her fate was with him, whether she wanted it or not.
He was not wrong for thinking this, but alas, my firmer methods would have proven better here. I believe that had I not intruded upon Kajsa, and in doing so wounded his youthful heart, then this would not have transpired. She would have been forcibly kept ignorant, or else buried in Giordana. Instead, she went to Austin von Feugard. The noble businessman was elsewhere in the kingdom, but he had left retainers in the city to oversee the development of his machines, and they were happy to finance her travel to his side.
Not a soul else in the city was told of Lady Solhart’s demise and the terrible smallness of his connections proved nearly fatal. Leomund could not leave the manor undefended. The only ally that could be called upon for investigation was Miz Lynnfield, and she lacked the cunning to track her down. Golden could have done so with ease, but he was in the north. And so it came to pass that Lucius returned from his expedition days after Aria had vanished from the city.
Golden volunteered to track her down, but Lucius knew how that would end. Still, he considered it. Mostly, he considered what I would have done. That night, he sat, trying to play with his son, but even the baby could tell he was troubled. After Alexander was put to bed, Leomund confronted him in the kitchen. “Come on, man. Do we pursue her? It would take the bird man half a night at the most to find who knows where she went.”
“She went to Feugard.”
“I thought he was trying to court you.”
“He was.”
“Then why aren’t you doing anything!” Leomund shouted.
Lucius shushed him, but it was too late. The baby cried. “It was always going to get out eventually. I think it’s time to start fanning the flames.”
- Many years later, I happened to find evidence that the fine jewelry had surfaced in the north, where merchants wouldn’t bother to reach out to their enemies in the south for mere sentimentality. In fact, the prices inflated under a quiet belief that such loot would become desirable to collectors, either in Skaldheim or in Vassermark. While this certainly happened for signet rings, it is rather impossible to know whether the generic jewelry was truly priced by such reputation.