The Northern Wars

LYONS

Autumn

It was a quiet evening in the imperial farmlands of southern Legion as the early onset of the dark drew the day to a close. The weather was fairly warm for an Autumn night, even in the mild Aerbonean midlands where the rural farming town of Lyons rested north of the Svanean-Legion border. Summer had just passed a few weeks before, though one would be hard-pressed to tell the difference in the southern climate. Jean found himself locked in a heated discussion with his older brother, Pierre, as they argued furiously in the dark of their room. They spoke in hushed tones back and forth within the comfort of their family’s cottage- sharing a room between the pair of them. The family home was no more than a small two bedroom cottage that they lived in with their mother and father. The brothers were the sons of a poor cattle farmer who was swamped in debt to the king of those lands, King Louis IV; the fourth King of the line of Louis Delaunay, founder of the Kingdom of Legion.

It was a quiet evening in the imperial farmlands of southern Legion as the early onset of the dark drew the day to a close. The weather was fairly warm for an Autumn night, even in the mild Aerbonean midlands where the rural farming town of Lyons rested north of the Svanean-Legion border. Summer had just passed a few weeks before, though one would be hard-pressed to tell the difference in the southern climate. Jean found himself locked in a heated discussion with his older brother, Pierre, as they argued furiously in the dark of their room. They spoke in hushed tones back and forth within the comfort of their family’s cottage- sharing a room between the pair of them. The family home was no more than a small two bedroom cottage that they lived in with their mother and father. The brothers were the sons of a poor cattle farmer who was swamped in debt to the king of those lands, King Louis IV; the fourth King of the line of Louis Delaunay, founder of the Kingdom of Legion.

Pierre was rummaging through the room in the midst of their heated debate while Jean glared furiously in his direction from where he laid on the shared improvised mattress that served as their bed. The brothers argued over leaving their family farm. Pierre wanted to run away to Dunkirk on the western wine coast of Legion whilst his brother preferred to aid their family in the trying times they faced. Western Legion was the industrial half of the country and so it was rife with employment opportunities, but Jean argued that they could not simply leave their parents to run the farm by themselves- especially not under the current circumstances. Over the past few weeks the Lion Hornets had begun to migrate back East to the land of Aenor where they would once again lay their eggs to continue the breeding cycle for the next year.

Lion Hornets were quickly becoming a major pest problem in the farmlands of East Legion. The mature adults would migrate to the imperial countryside in Spring and Summer, feeding on large farm animals in packs during the day and mating during the warm summer nights before returning East to Aenor in Autumn where they would lay their eggs to hatch in the Winter. The Lion Hornet was roughly the size of an average adult's fist and their sting was entirely capable of taking down humans. In swarms they could take down a full-grown cow or horse within minutes, making them one of Aerbon’s deadliest insects. The family farm was suffering from an increased number of the migratory pest travelling to and from Aenor. They laid their eggs in the Aryan Forest- their native breeding grounds- whilst the neighbouring Kingdom of Legion served as their primary source of food in addition to being their mating grounds.

Due to the hornet attacks of the previous year, the family was down to just three of their cows with only a couple spare steer left to slaughter for their meat. Luckily for the family, their tobacco fields were healthy and well, though the majority of their income came from the meat they sold to butchers in the marketplace of Calais. They would still be able to cut their losses and split the meat 50/50 of what they kept for themselves and sold and it would be enough to keep them fed, though they would have to focus their efforts on breeding, raising, and protecting calves if they were to have any hope of maintaining their ownership of the farm. They could even take all of what they made from selling their tobacco to the Northerners of Ahglor to cover their annual living expenses, but it still wouldn’t be enough to pay the extortionate taxes imposed upon them by the king. Indeed, they wouldn't be able to make it through the next year with what they had left of their assets, not even taking into account the growing presence of the migratory Lion Hornets or the rising cost of living.

The family had already sold a fair share of their inherited farmlands and they were on the brink of losing the farm to the King’s tax collectors. If that came to pass they would surely be thrown in the Royal Prison for their crimes as debtors. Pierre had decided to travel to the thriving industrial capitol of Legion in Dunkirk where he was prepared to join the King’s Army and become a soldier in the Imperial Legion. Pierre was nearly 17, and Jean was the ripe age of 15, only just old enough to enlist by law of the land. Jean argued that they owed it to their parents to stand by them through thick and thin- they had to help around the farm.

He argued that they had a duty to their family and Jean would be damned if his brother threw it all away for fortune and fame. Pierre retorted that Jean was blind to the truth- jail was all that awaited them in this place. Elaborating on his initial statement, Pierre told his younger brother they no choice but to run away and start new lives in the city. It was their only hope. Finally Jean got up out of the bed and dressed, grabbing himself a cloth sack his borther had already packed with clothes and food enough to last him on his journey.

“So that's it- you'd already had the whole thing planned all along- then there's truly no deterring you, brother? Just know that you’ll damn this family if we forsake it here and now!” Jean hissed at his brother in the dark of the night, his eyes like two white bulbs boring into the back of Pierre’s head.

“We were damned by this family at birth, we must go now or they will drag us down with them for all of their failures!” Pierre snapped back angrily under his breath, “Besides, we’re brothers; I don’t want to leave you behind, but this is the only chance you'll have to join me. You won't be slipping out from under father's nose if you stick around to endure his wrath at my own absence. We can even send money back home when we begin to receive our salaries in the army. There’s truly nothing for us here any more Jean...”

“Damn you.” was Jean’s only response as he choked back the tears, reluctantly making a move to join his older brother in hoidting theit packs to depart on their westward journey.

“I've already told you brother- I’m going either way. It all comes down to this moment Jean- you’re going to have to make a choice little brother.” Pierre replied bluntly without any hesitation. Seeing the inevitability of what was coming to pass, Jean consciously made the decision to join his brother- seeing no better option before him and accepting that his older brother's words were not lacking in truth.

Once their clothes were packed and they were suitably dressed the two boys clambered through the open bedroom window and slipped out into the dark of the night. The farmlands were illuminated by the stars and moon in the night sky and that was the only light all around as far as they could see. The sky was reflected in the black still water of Lake Aeron behind them to the South and they each filled up a waterskin in the moonlit lake before beginning their trek North at a brisk pace. They took to running silently across the flat farmlands of East Legion, hoping to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the farm before they were discovered missing at sunrise. Their father would probably go out looking for them on horseback as they still had one horse left upon their farm. The rest had been sold to a merchant in Veinos who needed some horses for his travelling merchant caravan so that the family could pay off the King’s tax collectors in time the previous year.

The boys found a small clump of willow trees nearby in the early hours of the morning and took refuge under their protective boughs. Together they took it in turns to rest and keep watch in the temporary safe haven, somewhere in the middle of the flat Legion plains, and they slept soundly after their long night-time journey. When they woke from their dreams the greater part of the morning had passed them by and they each ate a small bread roll from their travelling packs before they got up for their day’s journey. They decided to travel West, further away from the widely used dirt road that linked the farming town of Lyons to the town of Veinos in the North, midway between Selené and Eros, where there were paper mills. The mills mostly employed the cheap labour of the elves of Western Aenor where they chopped trees to sell in bulk to the men of the mills.

The town of Veinos was the biggest paper manufacturer in Legion; they manufactured paper products that were then sold to shops in the cities to sell in the marketplace to the people of Legion. The millers worked most of their lives away for a minimalistic poor lifestyle. Jean and Pierre made their way west however, away from the their homeland and closer towards their paradise on the western shores of the River Amstrel that divided the industrial and farmlands regions of the country in half. Eastern Legion was inhabited by poor farmers who raised cattle, pigs, horses, and chickens, as well as grew tobacco in the south of their lands, and there were paper mills in the east of the country nearby the elvish lands of Aenor, and in the west there were factories and vineyards that dotted the western coast, and the capitol of those lands was Dunkirk where King Louis Delaunay IV reigned in his extravagant castle.

The brothers managed to put several leagues between themselves and the main southern road by the middle of the afternoon and enjoyed another bread roll each for their midday lunch. Once the meagre meal was finished, they took back to their northern course, making for the town of France in the far north of the country. Trekking through the fertile lands of the rural farmersteads that inhabited the expanse of lands between the River Amstrel and the Imperial Highway, as the main road that stretched from Calais to Lyons was called, the brothers trudged along in thoughtful silence for the most part. Their journey took them through the northern plains for three days before they finally reached the town of France. They were tired and famished, having run out of supplies and so the pair took joy at the sight of the large town. France laid on the eastern banks of the River Amstrel, comprising the eastern half of the twin cities that served as the imperial capitol, though it was not recognised as part of the capitol by King Delaunay or his citizens.

The city of France was connected to Dunkirk by several cobblestone bridges that spanned the wide river, though the main bridge was wide enough for several horse-drawn carriages to cross in multiple lanes. The brothers made their way into the town and Jean munched on a bread roll he'd casually pocketed passing by a baker's stand as Pierre sought out the main street leading into Dunkirk. They reached the bridge with very little trouble and Jean was speechless as he took in the sights; it was his first time in the city away from the family farm. Pierre had accompanied his father in some of his travels into Calais to sell meat to the butchers and they occasionally stopped in the city of France along the way. He knew his way around the city for the most part and guided his amazed brother towards Dunkirk where they sought the recruiter’s office for the Imperial Legion.

“Merde!” Jean exclaimed as they reached the Bridge Street, “It's so beautiful- I've never seen anything like it! This is the most beautiful city in Aerbon!”

“It's not one city, but two!” Pierre laughed in response to his brother's wonderment as the youth gazed all around him from where the pair had stopped in the centre of the bridge.

“That side of the river bank is France, and over there is the capitol- where we're heading. You can't see it from here because of all the sprawling buildings, but over there is the king's castle. We can stop by there once we enlist though, but let's hurry up before they close for the day!” Pierre pointed in the directions as he spoke before urging his brother to press on.

“I wonder what his palace must look like- I don't think I would want to see it though, knowing the price of it's beauty.” Jean rebutted thoughtfully.

“Putaaain, don't be rediculous- you can still appreciate the architecture without having to think of what went into it.” Pierre replied exasperatedly as he turned to push forward.

“I suppose so.” Jean's voice drifted as he returned his attention to sightseeing, taking in all that he could as they made their way towards the imperial recruiting office for the king's army.

The imperial cities were predominantly comprised of blocks of townhouses crammed together and towering several stories high, generally between 3-5 floors while shops and kiosks piled in everywhere between. The streets were alive with the bustle of pedestrians as everyone went about their daily routines within the imperial kingdom's capitol and the brothers made their way along through the flowing sea of bodies. Finally spotting the recruiting centre, Pierre grabbed his brother by the arm as the pair made a brisk sprint the remainder of the way to the building, barging through the entrance as soon as they reached it.

“You both seem a bit young for the King’s Army, no?” the recruiter peered at the two lads from behind his desk of paperwork even as they approached him.

“We’re old enough!” Jean exclaimed rather indignantly.

The lad looked rather comical, like a ten year old pretending with all his might to be an adult. Jean was short for his age and rather young in the face, though his eyes burned with an intensity as the recruiter stared calculatingly into them. Glancing at the recruiting forms then at each of them in turn, the recruiter made a move to offer one to each of the brothers. They proceeded to fill the forms out hastily before returning to the recruiters desk to turn them in. Pierre stood tall and proud, eager to enlist in the ranks while Jean continued to meet the recruiter's gaze unflinchingly.

“So, you are 15? What year were you born then?” The recruiter aimed the question at Jean, who wasn't about to be taken unawares.

“Mid-Spring of the sixtieth year.” Jean answered honestly without a moment’s thought.

“Very well. You may not have the experience, but that can be learned- you lads certainly have the spirit. Welcome to the Imperial Legion!” the recruiter stamped their forms and got the young farmstead brothers enlisted within the imperial ranks immediately.