Wielder of The Quill, The Sword and The Lance

[Entry #0048 | Day 52]

Early-Sone, Dusk. Pre-Firearm Siege Weapons

IF MEMORY SERVES ME WELL, the Ballista was the oldest form of siege artillery on earth. The twin-armed torsion-powered projectile launcher was first invented and used by the Syracusans and later most famously―at least in pop culture―by the Romans to great effect.

But though extraordinary in design, the inherent complexity of the Ballistae did not lend itself to the economic conditions prevalent during the later years of the Roman Empire as by the late 4th century new designs soon began to replace the old.

Skip forward a few centuries and one would encounter radically different innovations like the Tsarevets Siege Crossbows and the rather renowned Counterweight Trebuchets that had grown to comfortably fill the niche once solely occupied by the Ballistae.

The evolution of siege artillery was now such that the new designs grew to over-specialised in certain specific doctrines(like with the Trebuchets being used for ranged harassment and psychological warfare and the Tsarevets crossbows for medium-to-long-range precision suppressive fire) in a bid to avoid incurring the technical complexity associated with the more multi-purpose Ballistae.

Yet still, my knowledge regarding this topic is near wholly inapplicable to understanding the evolution of Udorian siege artillery as for some reason that continues to elude me, the chronological order appears to have been reversed. With the Traction Trebuchet coming in first a few centuries ago, followed by the Counterweights, then, most recently, torsion artillery like the Ballista and Onager the evolution of Udorian siege artillery is a near opposite replica of the chronological order present in earth’s history.

On a rather curious side-note, the Ballista itself is said to have been invented by the 14th-century king, Stefans Zoroaster of Ivonne. The same man who commissioned the first banked gravel roads in Udoris, invented the Aqueduct, Harpax and Codex, and laid the foundation for the organisation known today as the Sanctuary of Scrolls.

How very curious indeed…

29.14.223

The Sparring Grounds.

Viscount Lancelot’s Manor,

Greenfields.

…

Hot pain spread across Levi’s cheekbone as he crashed heavily through the snow into the frozen soil underneath. His ironclad form laid still and crumpled for a few moments before he began to stir, appearing rather dazed and worse for wear. Levi groaned as he rolled onto his back with visible exertion, readjusting the helmet partially dislodged from his head by the heavy blow he had just received.

“Have you given up, m’lord?” Viscount Lancelot asked blandly as he stabbed his longsword into the soil before proceeding to unclasp and then reattach the gauntlet he smashed into Levi’s face just moments ago. Levi, having done this enough times to discern the undercurrent of mirth in the viscount’s tone, proceeded instead to simply ignore him.

“Again,” Levi said as he pushed himself to his feet, armour plates and chainmail clinking noisily against each other as clumps of snow fell off.

The viscount pulled his sword from whence he stabbed it, twirling it with a fancy flourish as he brought it to bear across his chest. “Again, m’lord?” he asked, his gaze turning calm as he peered into Levi’s from behind his visor.

“Again,” the earl affirmed. He picked his blade where it fell and with a sharp swivel, charged the viscount, the tip of his blade trailing slightly behind him as he cleaved towards his opponent’s torso.

Levi's steely gaze fixated on Lancelot as the viscount―in one fluid motion―casually deflected the strike before moving forward with a counter of his own, and for a split second Levi's breathing stalled as he stared at Lancelot’s blade descending at an angle towards him. Almost subconsciously, he ditched his weighty longsword, a portion of the momentum in his arms bleeding off with the discarded weapon. freeing him ever so slightly as he dove underneath the viscount’s cleave.

Levi collided into Lancelot’s waist shoulder-first, grappling the older man to the floor before immediately stabbing at his face with a bullock dagger he pulled from his belt. Lancelot, in response, crossed his left forearm over the slit of his visor in such an impeccably timely manner that the descending blade ricocheted off his metal arm guard in a shower of sparks as it plunged into the dirt overhead.

A painful kick to the guts dislodged Levi from his post on top of the viscount. With a roll and another two, he leveraged on the momentum of the kick to pull away, creating enough distance to see an already upright Lancelot pouncing upon his earliest position.

A flurry of clumsy footwork brought him back to his feet just quickly enough to retreat as Lancelot bore down upon him. He parried the viscount’s first strike with his dagger, but the second knocked the weapon away and a third clipped off his helmet by the viewing slit in his visor, dazing and knocking him to the ground where a fourth strike froze just inches away from severing his head at its base.

“Again, m'lord?” Lancelot asked, barely panting as he raised his visor.

“No,” Levi wheezed, “I yield.”

“You're getting better, m’lord,” Lancelot commended as he unclasped the damaged metal arm guard covering his left forearm to examine the shallow bleeding cut underneath. “But I must say," the viscount added with a sigh, "you fight like a rabid animal.”

“Thank you, Lancelot,” Levi nodded. “I will take that as a compliment. Though to be fair, you did tell me to seek your life as one would seek a most hated enemy.”

“I did, didn't I. Fair enough,” the viscount replied after a moment of thought, “but I fear those reckless words of mine might soon be the death of me, more so if you continue improving at this pace. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed one who once abhorred violence as yourself could grow to become so dreadfully proficient at it.”

“Again, thank you,” Levi replied, taking Lancelot’s outstretched hand as he pulled himself up to his feet. “I will also take that as a compliment.”

“You are welcome, m’lord.”

“Well then, I propose we return to your abode at once,” Levi said with a faint shiver. “I can already feel the sweat on my skin freezing over underneath all this armour.”

…

“Thank you, Lady Junita.”

“You are welcome, young lord.”

Levi took a sip of the bowl of soup served to him, relishing in the feeling of warmth that blossomed in his chest as the balmy liquid travelled down his throat.

“This is splendid, m’lady,” Levi said as he took another sip of the broth. “My sincerest compliments to the chef.”

“Oh, you flatter me, m’lord,” Lady Junita cooed as she filled his cup with mead.

“Your lordship has grown quite bold,” Lancelot said as he drank from his cup. “Seducing my wife before my very eyes? Quite bold indeed.”

Levi raised a brow in surprise before replying in a tone dripping with scorn. “If this Lord indeed desired to seduce your wife―who by the way is quite an exemplary woman, what makes you think you had any choice in the matter at all,? I am clearly the superior specimen here, and I trust m’lady to be of the right mind to make a fitting choice should she have to.”

“That is indeed true, my dear,” Lady Junita affirmed solemnly as she refilled Lancelot’s now empty cup. “I would divorce you in a heartbeat should his lordship ever make his desire for me known.”

“Pardon my insolence then, m’lady. Carry on,” Lancelot chuckled to which the viscountess huffed unhappily in response.

“You know, my dear,” she said, her tone rebuking as she took a seat at the table, “you could learn a thing or two from the young lord about how to properly treat a woman. For a start, a nice compliment now and then would be great in my opinion.”

“...uh, ok? The soup is nice,” Lancelot replied and with an exasperated sigh, his wife crossed her arms across her bosom as she proceeded to glare him down.

“With all due respect, m’lord,” the viscount said, turning to face a mirthful Levi, “this is your fault.”

“You are welcome,” the earl quite solemnly replied as he took a sip from his cup of mead.

“...On a more serious note,” Lancelot said with a sigh, changing the topic, “Sir Mannon came to me not long ago to inform me of an issue of great concern, one which appears to trouble the knightage greatly.”

“And when was that?”

“Around noon yesterday.”

Levi sighed. “Well then, tell me, what is it this time around?”

“Well, my Liege, it is a matter concerning your bloodline.”

“What of it?”

“As you are aware, it has been of significant suspicion that with Lord Aden’s obscure status and Sean’s mutiny you may be the last of the von Grifenburg line still fit to rule Souville.”

“Yes?"

“My lordship, my husband here means to say you need an heir,” the viscountess interjected as she took a sip of mead from the cup clutched in her hands.

Levi was baffled. “I hope you all remember there is a very likely chance I will not live to see next winter.”

“All the more reason to have an heir soonest, m’lord,” Lancelot replied with some vestiges of urgency. “Your father’s line must not break, Your Lordship, if there is to be peace in these lands.”

“And what do you propose I do then perhaps,” Levi replied as he took a small sip of his mead. "Do you expect me to just waltz out there and snatch a woman off the street to bear my seed?"

“That choice is entirely yours to make, m’lord,” Lancelot replied diplomatically.

Levi fell silent, his bland stare fixed on the viscount.

“Please consider it, Levi,” Lancelot said, naming the earl directly without any honorifics attached. “This would assuage some of our worries greatly.”

“I thought it was the men who were worried.”

The table fell silent, an air of exasperation blowing over.

“Fine!” Levi finally relented after a few moments of impasse. “Sheesh, who would have known you were such a nag.”

…

The study in Lancelot’s home, although much smaller than the one present in the keep, was still quite appealing to the eye. Rows of leather-bound codices and bundled parchment sheets lined a wooden shelf opposite the door from whence Levi entered. The stone walls were decorated with the pelts and antlers of wild beasts, and at the end of the room was a table and two chairs upon which two fur-bundled figures sat.

“Le―I mean, Lord Levi!” Javi exclaimed as she jumped to her feet. Only by a hair’s breadth did she manage to restrain herself from bounding over to the earl’s side.

“Good afternoon, my Lordship,” the girl said with a curtsy as she peeked at the tutoress standing beside her from the corner of her eye.

'Your back is too stiff,' Levi heard the woman whisper―Javi flushing as she tried to correct her bow― before turning to face him. “Good afternoon, my Lordship.”

“Good afternoon ladies,” Levi replied with a smile. “I trust you are having a wonderful time.”

“Yes, we are, m’lord,” the governess intoned, before turning to face Javi. “Aren’t we, young miss?”

“Ah, Uh, Yes?”

“...Ok,” Levi replied hesitantly. “Well, I’d hate to interrupt but Javi…”

“Yes?”

“Your mother wishes to see you.”

“...Did I do something wrong?” Javi asked after a momentary pause.

“Did you do something wrong?” Levi asked back.

A pause.

“...No,” Javi replied finally, appearing quite uncertain of her answer.

Levi simply smiled in response as the pale-faced girl slinked out of the room, leaving the two alone.

“Governess Jin,” the earl said as he turned to face Javi’s tutoress, “may I have a moment of your time please?”

“Please feel free. What does Your Lordship wish to speak about?”

“My, you look much more beautiful closeup,” he said in passing as he walked towards the table upon which sat an open book. “The Tale of Varietal?” he said immediately upon recognising a few lines in the book. “It’s been ages since I laid eyes upon a copy of this book.”

“You flatter me, m’lord,” Miss Jin replied with a small blush before turning a baffled gaze towards the book Levi was leafing through. “You appear to have read it, my Liege?”

“Yes, I have read all of Countess Leslie’s books and I must say she is quite an exemplary writer,” Levi commended earning a smile from the governess. “That aside, I would like to know if m’lady would be free tonight perhaps?”

”Yes, I will be, m’lord. Why?”

“Wonderful. I’m well aware I have only just recently made your acquaintance and this may be a strike of pure lunacy, but would thou like to join me in mine hovel for a cup of fine wine later today? If thy codpiece tells it true, I’d much enjoy a night spent knowing you.

“You jest, m’lord,” Miss Jin replied with a small laugh, but Levi simply stared back dourly as he awaited her reply. “...Oh my,” she whispered, a look of realisation dawning upon her. The governess flushed red as she discreetly peeked at the door, seemingly in the hopes that no one else was listening in on them.

“M’lord, you mean―”

“Yes, Miss Jin,” Levi interjected politely, ”this lord wishes to take a gander beneath your frock so I may so deeply bury my phallus in thy hindquarters, may hap who retrieves it be crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“...Oh,” the governess murmured as she glanced at the door again, a subtle shiver in her voice. “Oh my.”

Disclosable information

The Tale of Varietal is a tragic love story by Leslie Aiden, a renowned Arien scholar. It was based on the tale of a naive young noble lady who sought the affection of a villainous Demon lord. Due to the soul-stirring emotional implications the story showcased, it became a very popular piece of literary work amongst aristocratic young women.