Edwin lay in his bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. Olin may not have been up to date on the latest court gossip, but he had a firm grasp on the current political situation of the duchy. He liked to linger near people, hoping for alms and combatting boredom by eavesdropping. That came in handy now.

Sadly, the news wasn’t good.

Edwin didn’t hate nobles. Walter had considered them something of a necessary evil, but many of them weren’t all that bad. Sadly, too often they liked being in charge more than they liked the people they were in charge of, and that made them cause unnecessary trouble for the commoners who simply wanted to live their lives.

Harvand was the northernmost of the three duchies of the new world, bordering the Cloudpiercer Mountains in the north, the high cliffs by the sea to the west, and the Rift to the east. Their only neighbor was the Marrad duchy further south. More than two hundred years ago, the first humans to set foot on the shores of the new world had arrived there on the exile fleet, a ragtag armada consisting of every last merchant and military vessel the kingdom they were fleeing had possessed. Shortly after arrival, a war had broken out with the original inhabitants of the continent, the tribes of the Volarki. The tribal and nomadic nature of the Volarki meant that they rarely met the humans in the field, instead skirmishing and raiding smaller settlements. This had drawn out the war tremendously, and only the relucant help of the rogue faction of the Mage’s College that had joined the dukes in their exile finally tipped the balance.

Almost immediately after the war ended in a truce, the three dukes began butting heads. Duke Pertam, being the least powerful and ambitous of the three, settled in the newly conquered southeast of the continent, separated from the other two by the Rift. There, he minded his own business, hoping to be left alone – and generally succeeding.

Duke Marrad claimed the southwestern heartlands of the budding human nation, the gentle hills and sparse forests seeming the crown jewel among the territories, and the Pioneer-built Piers at Pel Ister still the only way to dock the exile fleet at the tall cliffs that disconnected the lands from the sea in the west.

Duke Harvand chose the northwest, the monster infested foothills of the Cloudpiercer mountains. The discovery of the Cavernport at what would later become Harvand’s capital, the ruins below Pel Oreis and the abundant silver veins in the north of the duchy provoked Duke Marrad and his nobles to no end, and not a decade after the war with the Volarki was over, the humans started to turn on each other.

Every major city being protected by a Pioneer city shield combined with the firm nonviolent stance of the Mage’s College meant that a true war was deemed impossible. Instead, the Marradi made it their mission to take as much land from their neighbor as possible, pushing the border northwards one step at a time. The Harvand naturally didn’t take this lying down, and ever since then, skirmishes were a common occurrence. Both duchies had their armies stationed near the border and attempts to redraw them took place at least once a year. In two centuries, the cold war had seen more and less peaceful times, usually depending on who wore the coronets, but it had never become much worse than that. Until now.

A few years ago, the old Duke Marrad had died, and his son had succeeded him. Whether too much time had passed since the exile, the nobles and advisors got too greedy, or maybe the young duke was simply a fool, Olin didn’t know. But shortly after ascending the ducal throne, he gave a speech raving against Harvand, condemning them for seemingly imaginary crimes. He was no longer content with gaining a few kilometers, only to lose half of that a few months later. He wanted to rule the entire western half of the new world.

At first, nobody had thought him to be serious. The idea was ridiculous, as there was still no practical way to break through a city shield without magic, which made sieging the major cities basically pointless. Furthermore, the public expected Marrand to fear retributions from the Pertam duchy should they start an all-out war against Harvand. The isolationists in the south-east had to know that Harvand wouldn’t be enough for Marrad, and if the northern duchy fell, the weaker southern one would be next. Add to that the lingering danger of the Volarki rising up should they sense weakness from the humans, and the people of Harvand considered Duke Marrad a juvenile blowhard, showing off to his subjects to feign strength. Over the next months and years however, that certainty had given way to weariness, then worry, then fear.

Marrad had drastically increased the size of his armies, fighting to push the border with increasing frequency and ferocity. As Olin told it, the southeastern corner of the Harvand territory had already moved two thirds of the way to the closest baronial city. Pel Mahavir was one of the largest cities on the continent and a jewel in the crown of Harvand, as it had grown around the only bridge to cross the Rift that bisected the new world in a perfectly straight line, a Pioneer-built marvel that was considered one of the wonders of the new world. Each side of the bridge had their own city shield and was considered perfectly safe, but people can’t help worrying if hostile armies march closer and closer every season.

Harvand had ramped up recruitment, threatening Marrad with dire consequences if they didn’t come to their senses. Then the southerners did something that nobody had expected, and even Edwin had a hard time believing it was real: They assembled a cavalry unit, mounted soldiers fighting on horseback. The idea itself was outlandish, not to mention unbelievably frivolous. But each month, new stories about the cavalry training or going on maneuvers near the border made their way to the ears of the Harvand people.

The new world was in many ways just like the old world, the place where the exiles had fled from. Flora and Fauna were mostly identical, with a few notable exceptions. Some creatures, monsters especially, were first discovered here. Some plants had never been seen before either. On the other hand, a few select species that had been commonplace in the old world, didn’t seem to be native to the continent. First among those were horses.

The exiles had brought all kinds of resources and supplies with them in the vast cargo holds of their commandeered merchant vessels. They didn’t think to bring many animals, though, and only a few nobles had brought their favorite destriers. If a lucky merchant hadn’t brought two breeding pairs of expensive equines, the entire species would have been lost to the exiles entirely. As it was, all horses in the new world could trace their lineage back to one of these two mares, and for a long time, the creatures had been worth their weight in gold.

Today, they were still incredibly expensive. Wealthy nobles and merchants liked to own a horse or two, as they were practically unmatched as a status symbol. The three dukes were the only ones permitted by law to own a carriage drawn by more than two horses. And now, Marrad had bought several hundred of them, and given them to his soldiers. Even if nobody was quite sure how effective they would be, bringing back a way of fighting wars that had only been mentioned in stories and legends was a powerful maneuver. ‘If Duke Marrad can do that, what else can he do?’ people wondered. And suddenly, Duke Harvand considered reinstating the draft that had last been active during the Volarki war two centuries ago.

He will do it too, and soon. His back is against the wall.

Edwin rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had things to do, a plan. He wanted to become an adventurer, protect the people of Harvand from monsters, delve into Pioneer ruins and learn their secrets, maybe even venture into Volarki lands and meet some of the strange and foreign beings one day. He had pictured how his life would turn out many times, but Marradi horsemen thundering through the fields of his homeland had never played a role. A war was really the last thing he needed.

For a moment, Walter considered shelving Edwin for now, and starting again once the war was over. It would give him time to work out some of the kinks too… or maybe he could even help defending Harvand? He chuckled mirthlessly. His only talent was magic, and even if he managed to hide his undead condition, as a mage he would never be allowed to fight.

The Royal Mage’s College had been first created a thousand years ago, after a particularly powerful and ill-tempered mage had thrown the old world into one of the worst crises in history. Hundreds of thousands had died, and after the fires had died down, people had been quite done with that particular kind of nonsense. The College’s foremost mission was to train new mages in a way that prevented anything of the sort ever happening again, and mages were only allowed to use their gift to defend themselves in absolute emergencies. They were expressly forbidden to take part in disputes between dukes, and violations were considered high treason, punishable by immediate execution. The squabbles of nobles were considered beneath scholars of the mystical, it was frowned upon to even train combat magic and plainly illegal to teach or learn war magic. The few books describing the long-ranged artillery spells that existed were under lock and key, kept in case the kingdom was ever in existential danger from the outside again. Only then would the mages be allowed to take up arms, as they had last done against the Volarki.

Maybe it won’t be as bad as everybody thinks. I’ll just concentrate on my training, and I’m sure it will die down eventually. Even if Marrad invades, they will never make it this far north.

Edwin rolled over, closing his eyes. Tomorrow was a new day, and he had to get up bright and early for training.