The war continued. That’s all that Sir Edward de Marche had really learned in four years of constant fighting and bloodshed. Since the day he had been knighted on the tournament field by the Emperor and granted the title of Landgraf, things had moved quickly for a time. Sir Felix was named Ober-Captain of the Mercenary army, a title that was quickly changed to Oberste, as he brought in and contracted another four captains. His first true act as Oberste was to bring the woodsmen of surrounding districts into camp and began the construction of a proper fort, rather than the slap dash camp the mercenaries had been using. They began in that first winter, assembling floors and making nails in the comfort of pavilions warmed by portable forges.

When the thaw of spring came the new Oberste set about marking the foundations of his fort, six miles east of Siegesstand. It wouldn’t house every mercenary but it had six large barracks buildings that would each house a company of one hundred lances. It also featured a stable for four hundred horses, yards for essential food livestock and an administration building that would double as a central keep in the event of a siege. The fort had two walls, an outer wall of twenty feet tall spiked logs, and an inner wall of thirty feet with a full rampart and corner towers, each armed with a new Imperial Cannon. The great iron tubes had been a gift from the Imperial Gunnery school as congratulations to Sir Felix, whose family had been a great patron for many decades.

Sir Felix also saw to a change in the way the companies operated. In his desire to professionalise what had always been a more amateur career path for many warriors. Captains were assigned duties on a rotating roster. Four companies would always be ensconced in the new fort, while individual companies would be given districts to patrol, of the land they had already taken from the Vallarese.

Two months after the completion of Fort Rabsburg’s, as it was known, outer wall, Sir Clement had been dispatched with forty lances to break the siege of Castle Farneze. Lord Farneze had recruited a private army when he made it back to the city of Lucca. He brought five hundred of the city's militia with him to reclaim his family home, armed with strong pikes and stout crossbows. The VII Legion had held the walls for a week before they snuck a messenger through the bolt hole. Edward had known instantly that they’d be riding under-manned to break the siege. Sir Clement had made Edward’s promotion to Company Standard Bearer official after his knighting, though Edward knew many still whispered that he was too young to be a knight.

They’d arrived at noon the following day, in time to see Farneze’s army midway through their latest assault. Men were climbing ladders through a hail of bolts from their own allies. Clem had looked on the scene and chewed his bottom lip before forcing his men-at-arms into line. The noise of the assault and the temptation of the prize kept the Luccans unaware of the danger that was presented to the rear of their lines. Within two heartbeats a volley of the company archers was on its way, and Edward grimaced as he saw yard long shafts dropping down into the unprotected backs of the militia.

Two more volleys followed, halting just as the charging line of men-at-arms crashed into the rear line of the besiegers. Sir Edward rode Bohemund hard into the press, his lance taking three men before snapping under the weight. Like some angel of death his sword flew from his scabbard to rise and fall like a wheat thresher. Bohemund lashed out with hooves that were more effective than any mace, crushing breastplates and ribs with ease.

A mighty cheer went up from the defenders as the men of Clem’s company turned the tide. The banner waved in Edward’s hand as he drove Bohemund through the press to break out on the castle side of the enemy force. He’d looked around and only saw three empty saddles, nodding to Sir Clement with grim determination as he made a circle with the banner, the men formed up around their standard once more. The Luccans recovered quickly although their casualties had been horrific, they knew their pikes were deadly to cavalry and began to form a bristling wall of razor sharp points . At a horn call from Clement, the lighter armed Squires and Pages rode into the foes rear. They lacked the weight of the Knights and Men-at-arms, but the effect was still devastating.

Ser Matteo Farneze tried to reform, but once men have broken they rarely have the spirit to return to the fray. Seeing no further option the Luccan knight slapped down his visor and charged the Knights of the Company, trusting to chivalry. Sir Clement met him once more, his lance dipping at the last moment to take Matteo’s horse in the chest. The gelding let out a strangled scream before crashing to the ground and sending his rider to earth. Ser Matteo had spat a hundred curses on Clement for his lack of honour, and Clem only smiled in return.

“I could have killed you.” He said before leaving the wounded knight in Edward’s care.

They returned Matteo to his father after he’d paid his ransom to Clement, and the Company returned to the Fort. They found Sir Felix in his freshly constructed office that still smelled of fresh pine. He’d begun to understand the nightmare that was the war on the Vallarese. Instead of being a war against a unified nation it was a battle on six fronts against a multitude of City-States who were only vaguely allied to each other and who each had more wealth than the Emperor could muster in three years of incomes.

Despite this they had received word that an additional two legions had marched through the pass and were holed up in Siegesstand until the Oberste asked for assistance. Felix once again dispatched Clement, this time with his full company of one hundred lances. Even the newly minted Sir Edward was given his own Lance to command. He took on his first squire, an Imperial boy of fourteen named Ruprecht von Murkadt, who they had taken to calling Murk, an archer from Arturia named Henry and they were assigned a page named Cuthbert, who was apparently Sir Aethelred’s nephew.

With a supply train that seemed to stretch forever behind them, they marched deep into Vallarese territory and constructed a new fort outside Lucca. The city was an impressive site, with its back to the lesser Lombard Mountain range and the crystal waters of the Bardi River, that flowed through its streets for twenty miles to the open sea. It housed nearly a hundred thousand people and could not be taken by a mere four hundred armed men, but Clement’s orders weren’t to take it. They needed to throttle the trade going in and out of the city and stop them from bringing in deliveries of food.

Cutting off the supply route via the river was easy enough, two Imperial Round Ships blocked the entrance at sea each with a complement of three hundred marines. With his fort completed and their base of operations marginally safer the activity of patrolling the area and burning fields became the all consuming occupation of the company.

Within a month the city had sent a force to take the fort. The force consisted of three hundred of the city’s finest condottieri under their most famous captain, Bartuccio Alagiri. The siege lasted for three days before Clement led a sally through the main gate that resulted in Edward meeting Bartuccio in single combat. Edward threw the man from his saddle and followed him to the ground where his rondel dagger went through Bartuccio’s visor.

By the second month Lucca was sending emissaries daily to bargain for the company to work for them. Offers that were politely refused, but counter offers for Lucca to submit to Imperial rule and bend the knee to the Emperor were likewise refused. After some time Sir Felix sent their replacements and Clem took his Company back to Fort Rabsburg.

Fighting continued for the rest of the spring and summer with more villages burning and farms being laid to waste. Edward learned in those months to harden his heart to the suffering, they met true resistance only twice in those months and Edward found himself killing peasants more often than not. While an effort was made to spare women and children, not all of the knights attracted to mercenary work were virtuous. Captain Rudolf von Vane was particularly bloodthirsty, more than once Edward had come across a town to find it a charnel house with flayed and crucified bodies everywhere. Sir Felix merely told him to mind himself around Vane and to continue his work.

As winter closed in around them Sir Edward received a letter from the Emperor’s equerry, advising him that his new estate of Schwarzberg had been formalised and his patent as Landgraf was official. He was requested to attend his lands as soon as possible to take control. Sir Felix granted him leave to go with the express order of being back before spring. Clement gave him ten lances as an honour guard for the journey and within a week they’d left for Schwarzberg.

It took a month to cross the pass and reach the western shores of the continent, upon arriving Edward realised how generous the knight’s fee the von Bludden’s had given him was. Schwarzberg consisted of three villages, one of which was almost a town, and several large farms in fields so green he almost expected the grass to be edible. There was even a manor house with its own fields designated for his use, and a central keep that could almost be called a castle as a focal point for the land’s defense.

Edward spent his time becoming acquainted with the land and the people who were now his dependants. He hired a Steward to oversee the land while he was away on the front. The man was a grey haired clerk with lenses of ground glass that were new to the continent that allowed him to read through failing eyesight. His name was Gottfried. Edward became an avid student of the Steward while he was there, sending letters to his mother and father to offer them the use of his manor should they wish to visit the Empire. He bought several mares from the markets at Bludden and arranged for his Stallions Toren and Bohemund to cover them while he was there.

After two months in Schwarzberg, Edward had never felt more refreshed and at home since joining the company. He left instructions for the building of his cattle and sheep herds, along with the breeding program he laid out for his horses, Toren was to stay as the main stallion. He also began preparations for mining explorations in the black stone mountain for which Schwarzberg was named.

“With any luck we’ll find a goodly supply of iron in there.” He’d said somewhat wistfully before mounting his riding horse. While there he’d taken the time to be fitted for new clothing in the Imperial style in his argent and sable colours. A black cotehardie in silk with hose in the new paneled style in both his colours. A short shoulder cloak in white, bordered in gold with a prominent black fleur-de-lis embroidered on its face. He cut a dashing figure as he rode through the gates and back towards his life of arms.

Sir Felix finally brought the Vallarese to battle in the spring of 1357. An Alliance of Lucca and Napoli came together with a force that numbered in the thousands. Sir Clement’s company were given the right flank and Edward raised the banner high as they dismounted and prepared to meet the enemy afoot, like good Arturians.

The mercenary army had mustered a force of nearly five thousand lances after a year of Sir Felix’s aggressive recruitment. The battle joined before midday, crossbow bolts scythed into the Imperial ranks, just as yard long shafts from their own archers fell amongst the Vallarese host. Edward felt a bolt ricochet off the knight to his right and slam into his own helm, though much of the force had fallen away. The fight was long and bloody once the lines joined. Edward lost count of the men he fought and killed, he just knew that by the time there was no one in front of him he could barely lift his arms.

That was when the Luccan Knights hit them. The mounted warriors in thick plate crashed into their flank and began to lay all about them. Edward cut the throat of the first horse that approached. He took a foreleg off the second. For the third time in his career as a mercenary, Edward came face to face with Matteo Farneze. Tired as he was, he raised his blade and stabbed the horse, Matteo had expected the strike and threw himself from the saddle onto Edward. They grappled for what felt like an eternity, Edward’s sword long lost. As if guided by the Worthies themselves, Edward’s hand grasped the hilt of his dagger and began to stab in a flurry of blows. He felt the sharp spike of the rondel dagger clang off armour repeatedly before crushing into something soft, it held for a moment before driving deep. There was a scream from Matteo. Edward felt the man trying to kick him away and escape, desperate blows rained on his helm and still he held on, driving his dagger in again and again. Crimson fluid dripped down his visor as he pushed himself up from the now limp corpse of Matteo, the man who had once nearly killed him. He saw they had struggled into an odd position with the Luccan man on his side, and his dagger had found its way to the man’s groin, leaving a carpet of crimson fluid all around them in the slurry that was mud, blood and entrails.

The battle ended in a satisfying rout of the Vallarese forces, but the bodies littered the ground for almost a mile in every direction. Edward found a quiet spot among the trees and allowed himself to vomit. His hands shaking as they hadn’t done since the day he’d killed his first man on the tournament field. That was where Sir Davide found him, sobbing amongst the trees. Once more his friend took him into his arms and pressed his lips to Edward’s.

It was to be the last major battle for some time. The Luccan’s were shattered and sent an offer of capitulation within a week. The Emperor accepted their surrender graciously before forcing them to pay reparations, The Doge of Lucca was horrified as he realised the next six years of the city’s incomes would be forfeit to the Empire. The VII and IX Legions came to the City and took control, the Doge kept his title as a courtesy, but true power went to the City’s new Military-Governor, Gregor Brost.

After the battle, Edward was promoted to corporal and given his own command of twenty lances. It was the first sign that the men of the army were beginning to accept his position as a knight of the Empire.

The war ground on after. With the front changing slightly and Lucca being an official port of the Empire. The Vallarese finally united after seeing the destruction of their sister city. Napoli, Magrit, Manoli and Vernosi all came together. With their united resources there were less lightning raids, and the war became a series of running skirmishes as the condottieri and knights of the cities fought a guerilla war with Sir Felix and his captains.

It seemed to Edward as though he simply woke up one day and he’d lost four years to the war. When they wintered in Siegesstand to welcome in the year 1360. The Emperor had sailed to the Eastern Empire to assist his son Prince Cesare, and left the Grand Duke von Rabsburg in charge of the war effort.

Edward found himself in the great hall at Siegesstand at a feast held by the von Rabsburgs celebrating the coming of Yuletide and their victories in the campaigning season. It was also a time for mourning, for as had happened every year, more men lost their lives in the battles, Edward himself had his arm bound to his chest while it healed and he awaited news of his squire, Murk, who was in the care of the temple after taking a mace blow to his ribs. He cursed again that he hadn’t seen to the boy’s kit prior, brigandine was good armour but it was little use against the mass of a war mace. He allowed himself a small smile at the idea of calling Murk a boy, he was after all only a year younger than Edward was himself.

In the years since his knighting Edward had grown. At nineteen he was just over six feet in height, his shoulders were broad and his hair was neatly cropped. He cut a powerful figure in his black cote and hose. Only Bjorn rivalled him for size in their generation of knights. Bjorn had been knighted on the field of their great victory against Lucca and Napoli, the young giant had bodily thrown a knight in full harness so far that he had landed on his head and broken his neck. They feasted together as the Grand Duke supplied roasted pheasants and boars with delicate sauces and a soup made from some of the local vegetables. There was a short scuffle at the doors that drew his attention.

When they opened a herald announced in one of the louder yells Edward had ever suffered through, the arrival of noble guests.

“I PRESENT HIS GRACE, DUKE ERIC OF ARTURIA!” The man bawled and Edward stood immediately to see the hunched figure of his Grandfather shuffle into the room. He was not alone, and Edward saw a tall young man who very much resembled him, lead the small procession holding aloft the banner of Duke Eric’s household, the roaring lion on a field of gold. Next came the Duke himself, despite his age and dependence on a cane to assist his walk, he looked regal in a black cloak with ermine fur lining. Then came a powerfully built man with long grey hair and an eyepatch of studded leather over his right eye, holding the hand of a startlingly beautiful woman in a blue gown with silver brocade. Edward gulped, he knew them all.

It took time for the introductions to finish and for Grand Duke von Rabsburg to welcome them all to his home. Before long they were all seated and enjoying the feast alongside their host. Edward finally saw his chance and rose from his seat. With a steady walk he approached the table and bowed deeply, waiting to be addressed. Rabsburg looked over the table and smiled.

“Ah Sir Edward, I’m sure you wish to say hello.” The wizened old man said gesturing with his liver spotted hands to his guests. Edward nodded his thanks before turning his attention to the new arrivals.

“Grandfather, it is good to see you so well.” He began before he was enveloped in a bear hug by the one-eyed man.

“My boy!” Yelled Sir Richard de Marche as he pounded Edward’s back. Edward sighed at the display of affection that would undoubtedly cost him in the mess hall later.

“Hello father.” He said.