Chapter 274: Chapter 273: A Familiar Shadow
The days slipped by in peace. Drills filled the yard, supplies were tallied, and the nights passed without alarm. It almost felt as though the storm had quieted.
Then, one morning, the beat of wings broke the calm. A golden eagle swept down from the sky, its cry sharp as it descended into the courtyard. The soldiers paused their work, eyes following as the bird landed, the message tube at its leg glinting in the light.
.....
Minutes later, the meeting room grew still as the scout’s report was read aloud.
Hush settled over the gathered Knights and captains. A single parchment lay on the table between them, dozens of marks, a roughly drawn map, and the note, Vikings. Small warband, likely foraging.
Gordon rubbed his temple. "If they’re only a raiding band, we can send a small force to intercept. No need to pull everyone."
Sorrin glanced up, cautious. "We should be careful. Even small parties can ruin a march if they hit the civilians."
Before anyone else could answer, Kairo stood. His voice was steady. "Viscount Liraeth, allow me to handle it. I’ll crush them myself."
Silence swallowed the room for a long beat.
Gordon’s brow furrowed. "You mean to go alone?"
Kairo shook his head, sharp and confident. "I’ve got men, friends. I’ll bring them along. Just leave it to me."
"No," Gordon cut him off. "It’s too risky. Let the veterans deal with it. Lumberling and his company could dispatch them cleanly without risk."
Kairo’s jaw tightened at the mention of Lumberling. "If they’re that capable, then we should save them for greater battles. This is minor. Let me handle it."
Sorrin and Gordon exchanged a look, and in their silence lay disappointment. Once they might have admired the boy’s fire, now they saw arrogance. Gordon muttered under his breath, "He’s letting pride blind him."
Skitz, leaning lazy against the wall, gave a low chuckle. He arched a brow at Kairo, unimpressed, but made no move to intervene.
Liraeth drew a breath, ready to put an end to it, when another voice cut clean across the room.
"Let him," Lumberling said.
Shock flickered across several faces. Even Skitz blinked, then smirked knowingly.
Liraeth hesitated, her gaze flicking between the two men, then inclined her head. "Very well. If Lumberling places his trust in you, so be it. The task is yours."
Triumph flared in Kairo’s eyes. He met Lumberling’s stare, almost defiant. ’I’ll prove it. I’ll make them look at me, not him.’
With that, he strode from the room, chin high. To the others, he looked the picture of confidence. But inside, the hunger to be seen gnawed hotter than ever.
.....
At the far end of the fort, the courtyard thrummed with noise. Men were gathered in loose clusters. Into that space strode Kairo, his voice carrying like a trumpet blast, proud and burning with fire.
"Brothers! The enemy is near! A band of Vikings dares to tread on Viscount Lireath’s soil. Come with me, and we’ll crush them before they ever reach our lands!"
The cry rippled across the yard. Recruits straightened at once, faces lighting at his boldness.
Even some seasoned soldiers, men with scars and weathered armor, nodded, caught up by his unshaken confidence.
Kairo’s voice rose again over the din, his words tumbling like sparks.
"Will we wait for them to strike first? No! We’ll bring the fight to them. Together we’ll send their corpses back across the sea!"
The men answered with cheers. Despite his open hostility toward one of their leaders, Kairo still had those who admired him.
By the time his words died down, nearly a hundred had gathered, shields in hand, weapons gleaming, ready to follow.
Above, at the manor’s upper floor, Lumberling leaned on the window ledge, his gaze never leaving the scene below. He studied every detail, the defiant tilt of Kairo’s chin, the way his eyes flicked toward Lireath’s banner as though daring to claim it for himself.
’Thought no one would follow him. This is getting interesting,’ Lumberling mused, a faint edge of amusement in his stare.
Beside him, Skitz leaned lazily against the wall, chewing on a piece of dried meat.
"Why not just scare the brat? Or better yet, beat him down in front of everyone. Is there some kind of rivalry going on here?"
Lumberling didn’t take his eyes off the scene below. His voice thoughtful. "It’s not like that."
Skitz raised a brow. "Oh? Then why let him walk around puffing his chest like a rooster?"
"That kid..." Lumberling exhaled slowly. "He gives off a familiar vibe."
"You know him?" Skitz asked, curiosity sharpening his grin.
"No." Lumberling’s gaze hardened as he looked at Skitz. "Remember Nie Fenghun?"
For a moment, Skitz’s chewing stopped. He squinted, searching his memory. Then he let out a low chuckle. "That martial artist we fought years back? The one who nearly tore through three of our captains before we put him down?"
Lumberling nodded. "That one."
Skitz snorted, glancing at Kairo as the young man rallied his men. "But this brat isn’t a martial artist. He doesn’t move like one."
"He’s not," Lumberling said quietly. "Different, yes... but there’s something about him that feels the same."
’Like someone chosen, the way Nie Fenghun had been,’ he thought. His gaze lingered on Kairo a moment longer before he added, "I need to confirm it."
Below, Kairo mounted his horse, his men falling into rough formation behind him. His eyes flicked toward Lireath’s manor window for the briefest second, and though he couldn’t see clearly from that distance, he imagined who might be watching. His jaw tightened.
As the company began to march, Lumberling stepped away from the window. Skitz followed.
"So what now?" Skitz asked.
Lumberling adjusted the spear slung across his back. "We follow."
"Alright" Skitz chuckled as they slipped into the shadow of the courtyard, trailing behind the departing troop.
The sound of marching feet and shouted commands grew fainter as Kairo’s band moved toward the open plains.
.....
The plain rolled open before them, a ragged village, smoke rising from a few thatched roofs, and beyond it a mass of figures, more than four hundred Vikings moving like a tide of iron. Spears bristled, banners snapped, and war-calls rose faintly on the wind.
One of Kairo’s men swallowed and spat. "Shit. There are more of them than our scouts said."
"We should fall back and ask help from the Viscount," another voice suggested. "Maybe ask help from Lord Lumberling and his band. We can’t face that many alone."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the smaller group. Fear was plain on their faces, young men pressed close to shields.
At the first hint of suggestion, Kairo’s face tightened. A vein throbbed stark at his temple. He stepped forward, voice loud enough to cut through the doubt. "Who said we need them?" he snapped.