Tales of the Vangen: The Siege of Middengard (Book 2)

Chapter 4: Nostalgia

{To Captain Libro. As per the Empress's demands, the Vangen Royal Guard is to make for Aquillan Centrum and engage with the Middenite forces effective immediately. In addition to the two legions of guardsmen acquired and trained for service, the crown will also be offering additional troops as follows: Fifty thousand levies raised by the noble houses and local populations in defense of The Empire, with a further five thousand for logistics, administratum, and miscellaneous staff, along with the local Lords and Ladies of their respective houses in charge of leading their troops. All forces will maintain a perimeter around the Vangen in defense against any retaliation made during the siege of Middengard. The Empress expects the campaign finished by next summer. No exceptions will be made.}

-signed Lord Cumner, heir to house Cumner, Regent to the Imperial Crown.

Nights in The Medial were a lot colder than Regis had expected, but they were a welcoming one. Down in the far south, where the city of Byzantia sat along the equator, tucked between the Bosba Channel and the Alban Sea, the winters were less than just a tad mild. Even with the coming change of seasons, when the trees would shed their leaves in preparation for winter, the air would still cling to summer's breath, much as a child clings to its mother.

That of course meant rain. And Regis hated rain.

But now, as he stretched out on a log before a crackling campfire, the nightly mists slowly breaking with the coming dawn, he couldn't help but smile as his breath steamed into the open air, scattering motes of snowflakes that fell too close.

"By the Goddess, how I've missed snow." Regis sucked in another cold breath, the smoke and frost nipping at his nostrils. "You spend too long away from home, and you start to miss the little things."

A few of the guardsmen sitting around the campfire muttered in agreement. Most were Aquillanborn, much like Regis, hailing from some providence in the north. Anglica, Eireland, even a few from the surrounding peninsulas near Danic.The Medial may have been more temperamental, more boreal than the true north, but it was good enough. The wind had some bite to it here, at the very least.

"If you could even call these pathetic flakes as snow. Feels more like Ulwyr's spit to me." Regis squinted past the fire to the guardsman talking. He'd seen him before, and his two other companions. Cent was his name. A strapping young Northman, even after losing a few fingers to the Black Rebellion. He sat huddled beneath his blanket, holding a hand and a half towards the fire to keep warm.

The guardsman to his left, the one with the green in his beard, Moss if Regis remembered correctly, stared blankly down at his ax, one hand gripping the handle, the other working a whetstone across the edge. Fig, on the other hand, was busily snacking to Cent's right, popping wild nuts and berries he'd foraged earlier into his awaiting maw, crunching thoughtfully to himself. How he came to find them was still a mystery.

A more diverse bunch then Regis had ever seen before in the Vangen, but for whatever brains they might have lacked, they more than made up for in bravery and ferocity. It was only after the rebellion that he'd learned of this, when news came round of their attempt to protect Libro on the Sanguine Bridge and later when they'd held the line against the rebels back at the imperial palace. An act that had earned them the honor serving in Regis' vanguard.

"Ulwyr?" Regis procured his pipe, stuffed a pinch of tabaci within, and lit it with the singed end of a stick poking out of the fire. "Now that's a name I've not heard before. Some God of yours I'm betting? Just where do you hail from, Cent?" He took a puff, letting the dry, acrid herb scorch his lungs before he exhaled, puffing yellow smoke into the air.

"Norge," Cent said plainly. "Farther north than your Danic. In a little village of no consequence east of Rogaland. Same as Moss and Fig here."

"Um," Moss grunted in response.