After a few long hours had passed, the time that Justinian spent finalizing his plan on the throne, the time finally came for Justinian to meet his personal raiding party.
Along with the elite knights in his palace, he needed a well-trained army for this plan to work.
And his personal knights fulfilled those exact requirements.
"My lord, I have finished the task and allocated the army accordingly. Your current personal company is waiting by the courtyard."
"That’s great..."
Justinian stood up from his throne, feeling a slight ache in his back due to hours of sitting on his solid stone throne.
’I’ll renovate that later.’
"Ahem, knights, follow me."
Justinian ordered, waving his hand as he departed, mantle flipping with his movements.
The knights stomped once, part of their training when they needed to move by direct orders, part of the routine as they began to follow Justinian out of the palace.
With Matthias and Javier beside him on opposite sides.
CREAK.
Justinian opened the huge double doors that led to his backyard, one that held a massive courtyard that had once held a mighty frozen garden, but now nothing more than dead shrubs and trees.
’So this is it?’
Justinian grumbled, observing the army he would need to lead for such an elaborate plan.
Around more than eighty men lounging around the courtyard, each one armored with a light padded gambeson, talking and mingling absent-mindedly.
’Gear definitely needs some work...’
’And discipline is also a problem...’
Justinian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Then he looked behind him, looking at his few elite knights who numbered around a dozen; at least they were reliable.
"Matthias... bring in Lucan."
Marshal Lucan Halward, Justinian’s capable marshal, but with priorities that were worse than an uneducated peasant, he was a one-man army, but considering how his current army is looking.
It looked like he had completely neglected his job.
But he did do one thing properly: train the knights to be the absolute best. But that’s it; his focus was only on the knights, deciding that a few elite troops were better than a competent army.
’Fuck me...’
Justinian felt like he had used that word too often today, but it was the easiest way to summarize his situation.
"You called, my duke?"
A voice rang from behind, a voice belonging to a fully plated, huge man, one with chestnut hair and a goatee, his eyes a fierce brown.
Lucan Halward himself, the Dragon of the South.
And behind him was no sight of Matthias, doing other urgent work that came up, a castellan and a steward; it was natural that he had to leave quickly without notice, his duties being more important than being curious about Justinian’s suicidal plan.
"How competent are you at training cavalry?"
Justinian said with a face full of fatigue.
"I’m the best at it, your personal knights are trained by me after all."
Lucan laughed boastfully, patting one knight in the back heavily, causing even the armored figure to stumble from his force.
"Care to train the rest here?"
Justinian glanced at the lounging army below, still not noticing Justinian just observing them.
None of them knew what he looked like anyway, for all they knew it could just be another noble that Justinian had tasked to do his job for him.
"Those idiots? They’re a lost cause; it’ll take months for them to be as competent as the knights."
"I don’t need them to be that competent, just obedient and disciplined to hold a cavalry formation."
Lucan grumbled, crossing his arms.
"I heard your plan from Matthias on the way here. Even if I do my utmost best, your plan will not work."
"Let me guess... the night will also cripple our own forces?"
"If you already knew, then why continue with this?"
Justinian smirked, placing his hands in his pockets.
"I’ll tell you if you train these same idiots."
"Hah!? That ain’t even a deal."
Justinian laughed.
"Aren’t you curious what I have planned?"
Lucan raised a brow, observing Justinian’s posture and expression for anything he deemed to have a semblance of wit.
And surprisingly, he did; his eyes held something calculating, something that he had seen countless times from comrades in battle.
The eyes of a madman filled with excitement and nervousness, like a commander preparing to fight the impossible with a miracle.
"Did you hit your head, my duke?"
Lucan scoffed, uncrossing his arms.
"Normally, I’d tell you that your plan will never work."
"Watch your tongue, Marshal."
Javier, beside him, butted in, finally unable to handle the blatant disrespect Lucan was showing Justinian, but even so, Javier was heavily outranked and outskilled.
"Oh shut up, greenhorn, let me finish my sentence."
"As I was saying... where was I?"
Lucan stroked his beard, confused about where he left off in the conversation before hitting a wall beside him with his gauntlets in frustration, cracking the plaster.
"Bah! Never mind, fine... I’ll train them, but you’d better tell me something worthwhile about this plan of yours."
Justinian tilted his head, giving a cold smile.
"Good, I wasn’t asking anyways... I’m your duke, I was ordering you."
Lucan blinked twice at Justinian’s stern response before chuckling.
"You definitely got hit on the head with something..."
He adjusted his gauntlets before walking past Justinian and straight into the courtyard, giving Justinian a brief pat on the shoulder.
"Listen up, whelps."
"Time for hell."