Interlude The Calm before the Storm (Patreon)

The Calm before the Storm

• 30.13.1623

Faywyn.

LEVI awoke to the seemingly perpetual wails of the wintry morning, wooden shutters clattering noisily with each frigid gust of wind. The earl let out a low groan as he lifted the rather exquisite patchwork sheet of deerskin that was his bedcover, careful as he disentangled a slumbering governess from his person.

With a slight shiver, he slid off his bed as the early-morning chill rushed to embrace his naked form before he could drape a woollen blanket over his shoulders. With a tired exhale, found the lidded chamberpot in a chamber attached to the room into which he emptied his bladder before silently slinking back to his bed where he sat for minutes on end in a seemingly contemplative mood.

“What troubles you, My Lord,” Miss Jin, Javi’s tutoress, asked as she awoke to the sight of the ponderous earl. Her hands slid up Levi’s back, curling around to cup his chest, her ample bosom pressing sensuously into his back.

“It’s nothing,” the earl replied. He turned in place to face the woman before planting a soft kiss on her lips. Brushing back a few strands of dark brown hair from her face he gazed calmly into her eyes. “I believe I am just being impatient,” he said with a weary sigh, “that’s all.”

“I wonder what great trouble worries m’lord so?”

“Paltry issues, my dear,” Levi replied with a small smile. “That aside, you look quite radiant, m’lady. I take you had a pleasant night?”

“Oh,” the governess giggled as she trailed circles on his chest with her right index finger, one arm curled around his lithe waist, “I didn’t know His Lordship was one to brag. But, yes. I did have a wonderful night.”

“Well, I trust you did,” Levi said imperiously. “After all, it was I, the hedonistic deity of the rod and foreplay, Levi the Lance, who did sard you.”

“Oh stop!” Miss Jin giggled again as she playfully slapped his chest, “that’s the fifth line you’ve stolen from Countess Leslie’s books already.”

Levi simply smiled, his sloe-like eyes staring into hers. “But, you indeed seek my corrupt taste again, don’t you, young missus?” He asked softly, his right hand slowly circling her waist.

“How beastly of you, My Liege,” the governess whispered back but moved a hand to restrain Levi’s wandering fingers, appearing quite visibly reluctant. “Oh, I wish we could,” she said, gasping softly into his ears, “that you would so deeply ravish me once more, but we mustn’t. The young miss’ class begins soon and I must make preparations to make myself presentable.”

“Besides, what would we use?” she added with sultry giggling. “It’s not like it is customary to own a spare condom, or does m’lord strive to defy yet another one of my many expectations?”

“Nay, I do not, but you make a solid argument m’lady,” Levi said, rubbing his chin in thought. “I am not sure if the butcher would still have more in stock though. Perhaps I could have him make a few more this week? Just for convenience's sake. Anyways, I understand, go prepare for Javi’s class. Though I wonder, would I by any chance be once again graced with your lovely presence this evening?”

“Of course, My Liege,” the governess giggled.  “Now, where do I get washed?”

“The bathroom is that way and inside to the left is a wash basin. In a few minutes, servants would bring in a few ewers of hot water and some oil-scented soap. Would you also like a fresh change of clothes? I am sure that could be arranged even on such short notice.”

“Yes please,” the governess replied in a pleased tone. “I would love that.”

Levi smiled faintly as Miss Jin made for the bathroom with a spring in her step. As promised, the servants brought in the bath water, paying obeisance as they came, then later a clean dress was brought in for his companion as Miss Jin freshened up before bidding her goodbyes for the morning a few minutes later.

Soon after, Levi had his bath. In the dim light, he gazed at his copper mirror upon which the rigid lines of recently formed masses of muscle―a testament to his efforts at self-improvement―vaguely reflected. The room was silent as he sat in solitude. Surely, he sometimes found the company of others pleasing; Miss Jin being quite a desirably pleasant companion, but in his heart, nothing could truly replace the serenity brought by these few moments of stillness. Moments that became ever more infrequent with each passing day.

Another bland breakfast came and was devoured with a normal lack of gusto; empty dishes were carried out as the earl proceeded to groom himself.

Levi sighed, rubbing what little liquid he still could from the messy mass of obsidian curls that crowned his head before folding his damp towel unto his table. The next minute however, his disarrayed hair was tamed in a neat knot by a single length of red yarn and his lithe form now decked in dark tunics and a fur coat strode out of his room towards the Keep’s hall.

Even from a distance, he could hear Ser Lancelot’s boisterous voice echoing faintly through the otherwise silent hallway.

“Good morning, Robert,” Levi greeted as he entered the hall to see the butler conversing with his most reliable advisors. “Good morning, Ser Lancelot. I trust you all had pleasant nights?’

“Good morning, My Lord,” Robert tersely greeted back.

“It is a good morning, isn’t it, My Lord?” Lancelot added with an undercurrent of jest. “But, I never knew my daughter’s noble governess could look so spry. I must thank you while also trusting you had quite a pleasant night.”

Levi raised a brow in response, a light of amusement flashing in the depths of his eyes. “Do you not worry for your house, dear viscount?”

“...What do you mean, My Lord?” Lancelot asked, confused.

“My,” the earl said with a hint of pity, “should Lady Junita hear word of this, she might truly divorce you and come running to me. It would indeed be a great pity if by some chance―an accident of course―I caused my most dependable viscount to lose his young wife at such a doddery age. Should that happen, the people would curse me behind my back; famous writers would smear my name; and many a great bard would sing of me as a deplorable beast. But it would only be unjust to blame me for your apparent dearth. Or would it not, my dear viscount?”

Lancelot guffawed while the Steward looked on mildly amused. “I appreciate the young lord’s concern, but it is still a needless one. I am sure I am beyond sufficient in that aspect.”

“Ah, yes,” Levi nodded in a consoling manner, “do keep telling yourself that. Alas, yet another warning was ignored. A pity. Shall we leave then?”

Lancelot laughed. “Of course, My Liege.”

…

Levi exhaled, a foggy mist escaping his breath as he aimed down the crude iron sights of the musket in his hands. Steadying his right arm, he fixed the dummy target planted about fifty metres away firmly in his sights, right before snapping his eyes shut and pulling the weapon’s trigger. With a deafening bang, the gun recoiled into his right shoulder, expelling a cloud of bluish smoke into the air.

Levi opened his eyes to see the smog in front of him being blown away by a chilling draft from his left. In the distance, the target stood unharmed.

“By how far was I off?” Levi asked, adjusting his coat with a slight shiver before levelling the musket vertically as he jammed the gun’s ramrod down its barrel.

“About a quarter metre to the left, my Lord,” Lancelot replied, rubbing his gloved palms together as he observed the target with a discerning stare.

Levi nodded, calmly pouring gunpowder from a powder horn down the musket's muzzle. After reloading the weapon, he took aim once more and fire; his shoulder stinging painfully at the recoil. Yet again, a transient cloud of smoke was blown away by the wind, this time revealing a mangled straw dummy at the other end of the shooting range. It lay prone on the floor with nearly a dozen other targets in similar states of ruination.

“Sixteen shots to bring down ten targets at fifty metres,” Levi commented with an approving nod, “much better than yesterday.”

“Yes my lord, it is,” Lancelot readily agreed. “Maybe someday, you might indeed achieve a perfect score of ten in ten.”

“I doubt that,” Levi said. “These guns are too inaccurate as they as now. Maybe someday, when we have more resources to spare, we could get about rifling the barrels.”

“You are holding what could possibly be the most powerful weapon a single man can wield in the entirety of Udoris,” Lancelot muttered with a baffled frown, “and you are still not content?”

“What can I say,” Levi replied, waving towards Javi as she ran across the field to meet them, “I am a hard man to please.”

"That was so cool!" Javi exclaimed as she hopped to a stop by his side with a giggle.

“Done with your morning lessons?” Levi asked, gently ruffling her hair with a doting smile.

“Yes!” Javi exclaimed again before pointing at the musket in his hands. “Can I see it, please?”

James was quick to notice that Javi was quite steadfast in avoiding her father’s reproachful gaze even as she made that request. ‘Smart,’ he thought to himself, approving.

“Sure, you can see it” the earl replied, seemingly not noticing as Lancelot turned his reproachful gaze from his daughter towards him. “Anything for my little princess.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea―”

“Ah, relax old man,” Levi interrupted as he gently patted the child’s head. “It’s not like she is going to be shooting, she just wants to see it. Right, Javi?”

“I won’t?” she pouted, but quickly smothered the expression, peeking sidelong at her father as Levi handed the weapon to her. ”Ah, I mean, yes I won’t!”

“Good,” Levi replied as he casually dropped the slightly over ten-pound gun in her willowy arms.

‘Woah, it’s somewhat… heavy,” Javi grunted, her pale face flushing a faint red from exertion as she struggled to hold the gun level.

“Yes,” the earl nodded sagely, “Yes, it is.”

“You didn’t say it was heavy.”

“No, I did not.”

Exasperated, Lancelot simply rolled his eyes at Levi before turning to face his daughter. “If it’s too heavy, you know you can just give it back,” he said.

“No,” Javi argued as she continued to struggle with the musket. “No, it’s fine.”

“We are walking back to the Keep,” Lancelot stated calmly. “And His Lordship plans to stop by the barracks on the way. Are you still sure it’s fine, Javi?”

Javi froze as an awkward silence descended upon the group. She looked from the musket in her hands to a smiling Levi standing behind her. As the implications of her father’s words fully dawned on her, Javi gulped heavily and her eyes turned slightly haunted.

“...Uh,” Javi coughed, much unlike a proper lady, as she passed the musket to Lancelot. “Here father, you can have it back. I am done seeing it.”

“Are you sure?” Levi prodded, an undercurrent of maliciousness in his gaze. “You can still hold on to it for a while you know.”

“No,” Javi replied, shaking her head like a rattle-drum as she turned to leave. “I'm fine.”

The two men chuckled. Embarrassed, the red-faced girl-child stomped away, lips twisted into a small pout. “Meanies,” she shouted back moments later.

“Stop bullying my daughter, Levi,” Lancelot said as he tried and failed to suppress his chuckling.

“Would you rather I bully you instead, Ser Viscount?” Levi asked. “I still have about a hundred pages of miscellaneous paperwork that I think you could help me parse for feasibility.”

“More?” Lancelot asked, with his left brow crooked.

“Yes, I drafted them a few days ago,” Levi nodded. “It’s very similar to the last one we worked on regarding the future layout of Faywyn and Mallowston, only now we would be focusing more on the feasibility of constructing community-wide waterworks, and drainage and irrigation systems before winter next year.”

“Is it really so important, my lord?”

“Not at the moment, especially given our plates are already so full. But I felt it might be possible to squeeze it in, so why not. Besides, the towns get muddy in spring and just downright disgusting during summer; I would love not to have to deal with that again.”

“...I see,” the viscount said. “Well then, have fun my liege. She’s all yours.”

Levi clicked his tongue in response. “Father of the year, uhn?”

“What can I do?” Lancelot replied. “Some things are just destined to happen; she is your betrothed and I cannot imagine I can protect her from you forever. Might as well let the child get accustomed to it now rather than later. Well, that aside and on the topic of paperwork, I have been meaning to consult you on that proposal you sent me last week.”

“Ah yes, the army hierarchical systems and composition,” Levi said, keeping one eye on Javi’s form as she bounded down the path ahead. “Well, we can discuss that at length later. It’s a rather in-depth topic you see.”

Lancelot nodded. “I can imagine that being the case. Although I was more concerned about our ability to fund an army numbering in the tens of thousands.”

“That’s a problem that would solve itself the larger and more organised said army gets,” Levi said dismissively. “Levied towns, tolled roads and rivers, and conflict settlements are all viable sources of funding; ironically only a large enough army can enforce the means through which these can be achieved.”

“...Ah,” Lancelot said, a morose realisation dawning on his visage. “Towleigh?”

“First of many.”

“...To fund an army of that size would require at least two kingdoms worth of ransom money; three if it would be supported by a navy of any reasonable size.”

“Don’t call it ransom money,” Levi chuckled as he spied Lancelot’s aghast expression, “you make it sound like I am some brutal, warmongering, Luscan chieftain. No, it would require at least three kingdoms worth of taxes, not ransom money.”

“...Why?” the viscount asked.

“Why not?”

The pair continued in an odd silence, the viscount in deep contemplation with his Lord enjoying the pleasantly serene walk. It was not long before they reached the vicinity of the barracks; the sparse layer of snow that should have been abundant on the empty clearing near-completely trampled into a wet, muddy mush. In the range, arbalist formations and a small handful of musketeers practised their accuracy and coordination respectively. Artillerymen under the command of the recently reinstated Master gunner, Ser Turiel, practised their shot. Logistical support and reconnaissance units practised horseback riding while Pikemen stood in formation, their pikes held aloft like a forest of long, sharp spears. The men all wore some combination of helmets, greaves, vambraces and simple cuirasses or mail on their torsos; their faces fixed in grim stares as they awaited their trainers’ instructions.

"Shoulder arms!" the trainer and former bannerman of the Heras, Ser Liam, barked at the pike formation, and the pikemen obeyed, bringing their pikes down to rest on their shoulders. The tall knight marched around the pikemen’s ranks, eyes keen to root out irregularities in the formation. Levi watched with a small smile as the man’s stern gaze, by some odd chance, crossed his lithe form and froze. “At attention!” Ser Liam barked, his voice cracking somewhat as he made his way towards the earl, the pikemen standing stiff behind him.

“My Lord,” the man said with an uneasy smile, “you are here?”

“Uhn,” Levi snorted as he walked around the antsy knight, “I am? Oh, I wasn’t aware.”

The knight glanced briefly at Lancelot before, with another strained smile, turned to follow the earl.

“How are the pikemen coming along?” Levi asked mercifully as he walked towards the ranks of militiamen.

“Very well, Your Lordship,” Ser Liam replied. “They have mastered the drill of the pike and can execute them as an entire company. The more complex formations you described involving multiple companies still require some work. Also, we are still having issues with their stamina, but they can at least perform basic  formations with a reasonable level of cohesion.”

“...Good,” Levi said before turning to one of the riders in the distance and beckoning him over. The horseman, another Hera bannerman, arrived moments later, turning to face the earl with an equally strained smile. “Yes, My Lord?”

“Lend me your horse,” Levi said gesturing towards the reins.

“...Yes, My Lord.”

“Be careful, My Lord,” Lancelot said as he moved to stand behind Levi as he mounted the horse’s stirrups.

The earl turned, steering his borrowed steed to, very slowly, trot down the sides of the pike formation. Silent.

“...The mounted knight,” Levi declared with a sudden intensity as he looked down at the myriad of faces beneath him, “is a most formidable opponent to any man. While possessing the advantage of better mobility and superior battlefield vision, fighting from horseback also has the advantages of greater height, speed, and power over any opponent on foot. Cavalrymen are inadvertently experts at running down lone infantrymen, or better still, a routed force, raiding into enemy territory, and scouting. Against the improperly equipped or under-disciplined, the cavalry is simply an unstoppable force. Why am I telling you this?” the earl asked, his gaze panning across the formation as he steered his steed around for another pass. “Simple; you are infantrymen and I need you to remember that your worst nemesis on any battlefield is a mounted man. Brace!”

The pike formation, near-subconsciously, leaned forward, sliding their polearms from an upright position to one of combat-readiness. Levi smiled as he rounded his horse around the corner of the formation, the deadly tips of the first row of pikes bristling just inches beneath his waistline. “But, the cavalry has one fatal weakness,” the earl continued, simply not minding the lethal row of poles to his side as he rode past, “and this is it. Discipline! Cohesion! Fearlessness! Feast your eyes, men, on a sight so really seen. No mounted knight, much less on foot, in his right mind would dare challenge a mass of spears, much less charge one. So, for so long as you obey orders, trust in your fellow pikemen and don’t turn tails to flee like spineless worms you would be nigh-invulnerable on the battlefield.

“Some might, in the crevices of their minds, dispute my claims, murmuring with great distaste at how easy it would be for another infantryman with a simple dagger to crawl underneath the mass of pike to begin slaughtering every one of you; so I say again, for so long as you obey orders, trust in your fellow pikemen and don’t turn tails to flee like spineless worms you would be nigh-invulnerable on the battlefield. Your pikes are seven meters long; your ranks five men deep: Do you truly believe that one man with a simple dagger can manage to get past this? Do you truly believe that one man can so easily outwit you and the rank of four men behind you?”

The earl rounded his steed for another pass. “Some might yet still, in the crevices of their minds, dispute my claims with mentions of the existence of archers; so yet again, I say, for so long as you obey orders, trust in your fellow pikemen and don’t turn tails to flee like spineless worms you would be nigh-invulnerable on the battlefield. You each bear on your left arm a round shield seven inches across crafted from light, dense ash capable of stopping an arrow from a longbow fired at point-blank range. So, I come back to my original question; why am I telling you this?”

Levi pulled the reins as he came to a theatric stop at the front of the formation. “I have invested too much in you men to let you go waste your lives all willy-nilly. Trust, obedience and absolute discipline are a must for every one of you”—the earl turned to face the rest of the barracks that had fallen silent at his arrival and eventual performance—” and I mean every one of you. Do not disappoint me.”

The empty field remained deathly silent even as the earl dismounted, departing the barracks with the viscount and his only child in tow.