Volume One: The Forest Knight Chapter 35: The Battle to Reclaim Maple Leaf Manor (Part One)

Seeing that Soger offered no resistance, Berion sheathed his sword and stepped away, taking Soger’s great helm and sword as trophies of victory. Blood streaming down his face, Soger scrambled to his feet and left at once. He had intended to teach Berion a lesson in front of the assembled nobles of the Liege County, but instead had been humiliated. How could he bear to remain here after such a disgrace? He hurried away in shame.

The other nobles did not come to curry favor with Berion despite his defeat of the County’s foremost warrior. On the contrary, they felt a subtle sense of exclusion toward this newly famous yet socially inept and formidable companion. After all, it is difficult to like someone who is both exceptional and not one of your own.

The feast ended quickly following this unpleasant episode, and Berion and Eomer soon left the governor’s manor to return to their camp.

The next morning, the soldiers from Norlandburg rose early to cook their breakfast. After eating, they began breaking camp, loading tents and supplies onto wagons, then waited in place for further orders to assemble.

Berion had expected a long wait, considering that both Viscount Merry and Sir Pippin had drunk heavily at the previous night’s banquet and would likely rise late. To his surprise, the wait was brief; a messenger from the county soon arrived, instructing Berion to lead his men to the southern square of Amondeen for assembly.

According to the messenger’s directions, the expeditionary force was organized in the square into three groups: the lords’ retainers, the county troops, and the levies, along with some cavalry under Viscount Merry’s command. The total force was nearly five hundred strong.

It was clear that Viscount Merry was determined to retake the estate—sheer numbers alone gave his side a decisive advantage. While the fighting prowess of the soldiers was uncertain, their numbers were sufficient.

Sir Soger, defeated by Berion the previous night, did not appear that day. The soldiers from Riverside Town were led by his knightly squire and remained with the army.

Berion, noting Soger’s absence, felt somewhat relieved; having an enemy fighting at your side always left the suspicion of a knife in the back. Nevertheless, he warned Eomer to be vigilant regarding the Riverside Town soldiers, assigning two men to keep an eye on them. If anything seemed amiss, they would be prepared and not caught off guard by a vengeful act.

After Viscount Merry delivered a rousing speech, he, clad in full armor, mounted a magnificent warhorse, drew his sword, and shouted, “Forward!” The assembled force began its march.

Viscount Merry rode in the center, guarded by his seven household knights and a squad of twenty heavy infantry, while a knight led twenty light cavalry at the vanguard.

Following them were Berion and the other nine lords with their soldiers, and at the rear marched the county troops and city militia. The five-hundred-strong column, together with supply wagons, stretched a full league in length.

At the tail of the column trailed a host of camp followers—traders and vendors who accompanied the army. Among them, besides armorers and weapons dealers, were even more sellers of food, drink, and the flesh trade. Such merchant caravans were a peculiarity of this world; rarely did a large army march without a following of camp vendors.

Whenever the army halted to rest, the camp vendors sprang into action, calling officers and soldiers to eat and drink. After all, the men had their weekly dinar wages in hand and were soon to face the perils of battle. Better to enjoy life while they could, rather than regret missed pleasures should death come. If they fell, at least they would have lived without regret.

Thus, every evening when the army camped, these vendors would circle their wagons to form a market, and the sounds of drinking, gambling, singing, and dancing filled the air. Many lords would visit, seeking to restore their weary bodies and spirits with indulgence and fine fare.

If the upper ranks behaved so, the lower ranks were even less restrained. Ordinary soldiers would spend a few sors on a cup of the vendors’ homemade fruit wine, and another twenty sors on a roasted rabbit leg with a bowl of barley porridge laced with dried shrimp.

After a hearty meal, they would seek out a girl they fancied in the camp and slip with her into the nearby woods. Thus, the first half of the night was haunted by the rough cries of men and the gasps of women from the woods around the camp, unsettling many and robbing them of sleep.

Berion ordered the Norlandburg soldiers to pitch their camp some distance away from the main force, keeping his men away from such distractions. A few of his soldiers yearned for this life of debauchery, but under Berion’s strict orders, all remained in the camp.

However, Berion knew well that any commander who tried to ban all forms of recreation for his men was a fool—depriving people of diversion only made them crave it more. In harsh times, a leader must provide some form of cultural life. So Berion decided it was better to allow entertainment, but in another form.

After some thought, he produced a deck of playing cards from his previous life and taught the men to play games like Tractor and Golden Flower. Soon, their camp was lively every evening.

He did set rules: no gambling, and all games must cease at lights-out. Yet opening Pandora’s box brought both delight and danger; because of these card games, Berion would later nearly lose his life—but that is another story.

On the fifth day of the march, the column reached a point fifty leagues from Maple Leaf Manor; another day’s march would see them arrive. At this time, the scouts sent out by Viscount Merry returned. As a leader of men, Berion attended the war council and listened to their report.

The scouts were a band of hunters hired at great expense by Viscount Merry. Their leader described the situation at Maple Leaf Manor: the basic intelligence matched what Balin’s scouts had found, except the hunters had not discovered the ship on the Karl River, nor did they realize the invaders were Toba pirates.

They had only determined an approximate enemy strength and observed the number of archers on the walls, failing even to identify the enemy’s basic troop types. Berion considered reporting his own findings to Viscount Merry, but seeing the latter so satisfied with the hunters’ report—and rewarding them publicly with a bag of silver coins—he decided to remain silent and await further orders.

The war council, chaired by Sir Pippin, unfolded with a flurry of debate as everyone pored over the hunters’ map and information about the manor’s structures. Some suggested a prolonged siege, leveraging their numerical superiority to starve out the enemy over two or three months.

This idea was quickly dismissed by Viscount Merry, who would not risk delaying the summer harvest for a siege. Others proposed negotiation, reasoning that the threat of a large army would surely cow a band of rebel refugees into surrender.

They could be induced to submit, and later, a few ringleaders could be quietly executed, with the rest sent to labor in the mines of the Snow Realm. This plan met with Viscount Merry’s approval, but some knights objected, deeming such underhanded methods unworthy of knighthood. A debate on chivalric spirit ensued, devolving into personal attacks—even dredging up one knight’s childhood scandal of spying on a maid’s bath, nearly causing a brawl.

Berion, amid the noisy chaos of the command tent, offered only a few bland remarks and otherwise listened as the others bickered and bantered. It reminded him of the free-for-all discussion sessions from his university days—no sooner had they begun than the topic would stray into gossip, games, and arguments. By the end, nothing much was achieved save for a group photo to send to the professor, showcasing their “diligence.”

The council dragged on from morning till dusk, and when everyone was exhausted and out of words, Viscount Merry finally cobbled together a hodgepodge battle plan from the various suggestions.

The plan was as follows: upon arrival, attempt to negotiate with the rebel leaders and seek a peaceful surrender; if the rebels refused, the city militia and county troops would lead a frontal assault on the eastern gate, while six knights and their men would scale the walls with ladders, attacking from the west, north, and south. Two knights would remain behind to guard the camp.

With assignments to be made, Berion found himself, thanks to his recent martial exploits and resulting poor popularity, as well as lingering resentment from Viscount Merry and Sir Pippin over his previous refusal to lead the assault, given the least dangerous post. He and a young knight with only fifteen aged peasant soldiers were tasked with guarding the camp and managing the army’s provisions, in effect serving as quartermasters and rear-guard.

The young knight, clad in rusted mail, was overjoyed and hurried to thank Viscount Merry. Berion also rose and saluted, feigning gratitude—after all, he was spared the deadly assault on the fortress, so why complain?

With the battle plan and assignments settled, everyone except Berion agreed it had been a successful, victorious, and unifying council. Outwardly, Berion concurred, though inwardly he muttered, “What a damned, absurd, and pointless meeting.”

After the council, Viscount Merry took the seat of honor and summoned those “artisans” among the camp followers who plied special trades, arranging a lavish banquet. Berion, unwelcome among his peers, excused himself, reasoning that his presence would only dampen their enjoyment.

Meanwhile, inside Maple Leaf Manor, two Toba pirate leaders listened as a scout reported his findings. “Chiefs, the Brickman army numbers over five hundred,” he said. “Mostly light infantry and levied peasants, with about forty cavalry and around fifteen heavy horse. They have no siege engines—only ladders and a simple ram.”

“Furthermore, from what I saw, their fighting spirit is poor. Officers and men alike flock to the camp followers for pleasure as soon as they make camp. They don’t look like an army ready for battle at all.”

“Those wretches think five hundred men are enough to beat us? Hmph!” scoffed one of the pirate chiefs, a burly man with golden hair and beard.

“Brother Ham, though these Brickmen are mostly useless, they do have the advantage in numbers,” said the other chief across from him. “We’d better transfer our loot from this month’s raids onto the ship in advance. If they breach the manor, we can escape with the goods and provisions. Don’t you agree?”

Ham nodded. “You’re right, Fast. Tonight, start moving the valuables. By my reckoning, the Brickmen should arrive by dusk tomorrow.”

“At once, Brother Ham!” Fast replied respectfully.

“Just leave ten men to guard the ship,” Ham continued. “The main force must hold the manor. If we repel the Brickmen’s attack, we’ll have driven a stake into the north for good. Then the Earl’s summer raid plan can proceed perfectly.”

Fast hesitated. “Brother Ham, is ten men enough? All our hard-won spoils are there. What if someone finds them?”

Ham laughed. “Fast, my brother, you worry too much. The ship’s hidden well, and ten good men are guarding it. How could those wretched Brickmen find it, much less take it? Don’t fret.”

“You’re right—I’m overthinking,” Fast said with a forced smile, secretly hoping his caution was misplaced. If they failed, the Earl would surely have their hides.

Meanwhile, atop and beneath the walls of Maple Leaf Manor, the Toba pirates were driving the captured serfs and people abducted during their raids to hasten the building of defenses. They reinforced the manor gate, repaired damaged wooden walls, and dug numerous pits outside the fortifications, each lined with sharp stakes. These traps, dug by the Brickmen themselves under duress, now lay in wait to reap a bloody harvest.