"Hurrah, men! Let us take down these last few stubborn fools, then Istria's ripe for the pickings! Hurrah!" - Last words of Jarl Arne Levenson of Lonsveg, during the Istria-Lonsveg-Napris conflict.
Aideen watched from afar as the battle raged on for another week. Every day, the opposing forces would clash, their wounded and dead taken away to the back at the end of the day. The snow was stained a deep, bloody red from all the spilled blood between the two forces.
Every night, Aideen sneaked into the Istrian camp and healed their injured, with none the wiser of her presence, always leaving before dawn. She noticed right away how the presence of the sentries around the infirmary tents had been lightened greatly, and couldn't help but smile to herself when that loosened security persisted throughout the week.
From her perch atop a tall tree in a nearby forest, where she looked over the battlefield with ease, she noticed that from the second day onward the Istrians kept most of their former wounded hidden in the camp, and fought on only with the rest of their army.
That pattern repeated itself throughout the week, until by the seventh day, the Istrians only had a thousand men on the field, with the Jarl's own soldiers, which had started out at eight hundred men, being reduced to less than a quarter of their original numbers. Or at least, that was the image they projected.
The coalition formed between the two attacking Jarldoms still had over three thousand men, if nearly a third of those were wounded people who were still capable of fighting. They had arrayed themselves confidently across the field from the numerically inferior defenders, thinking that the battle would be settled that day.
It was indeed the case, just not in the way expected by the aggressors.
Throughout the early morning - just a couple hours after Aideen had departed the Istrian camp - the Istrians mobilized. The "injured" people they had hidden and she had healed had moved out as a force, and hidden themselves in the forest where she watched the battle from.
Nearly four thousand of them.
The tall tree Aideen usually watched from was deeper into the forest, and the Istrians had not discovered her presence. From there she saw how the soldiers on the battlefield clashed against one another. The Istrians on the field were quickly pushed back under the three to one odds.
That was what they had wanted the enemy to think.
When the troops from Lonsveg and Napris had fully committed themselves and tried to encircle and eliminate the Istrians who were attempting a fighting retreat, that was when the rest of the Istrians took to the field.
The sudden arrival of enemy troops that outnumbered them, at their flank, threw the aggressors into disarray. At the same time, the retreating Istrians ceased their retreat and held their ground. They served as the anvil to the ambush's hammer.
Aideen watched how one of the aggressor Jarls had led his private troops - mounted on a horse and wearing ostentatious armor, he was easy to identify - to a charge moments before the ambush was sprung. He was shocked silly upon seeing the bush and swiftly taken down by the defending Istrians.
The other Jarl had tried to coordinate his remaining troops to mount a defense, to no avail. The death of one Jarl had thrown nearly half of the remaining coalition army into disarray.
She watched how the panicking Jarl had assembled his remaining private soldiers and mounted a doomed charge at the thinner section of the Istrian lines that now encircled the coalition army, the thousand or so men that had met them in battle the first time.
Aideen watched how the Istrians swiftly formed a shield wall with spears jutting out, ready to welcome the incoming charge, and put down the second Jarl while taking only a few casualties themselves.
Out of the coalition army assembled, maybe a hundred escaped the encirclement. Nearly a thousand were killed, while others surrendered and were taken captive. Aideen suspected there would be many more injured to take captive in the coalition army's camp.
She was just about to climb down the tree and leave when she spotted an anomaly. The victorious Istrians had not jubilated on their victory. Instead, she saw a small group of them rushing back towards their camp with a stretcher carried in their midst, a heavily injured man atop the stretcher.
It had not taken a genius to piece together what had happened from the clues presented. It appeared that the Jarl of Istria - she could think of nobody else whose injury would cause such gloom - had been unfortunate in that battle. Mayhaps the opposing Jarl had recognized him and aimed for him specifically, maybe it was mere happenstance and misfortune, she knew not which was the case.
With a resigned sigh, Aideen climbed down from the tree, and made her way towards the Istrian encampment. She wore white that day, since it was daytime and would blend better with the snowy landscape.
Her habit of wearing white was also partially fueled by frugality. When she fought, her attire tended to end in tatters, so she habitually got used to wearing simple, undyed white cotton rather than more expensive or dyed fabrics.
When she reached the camp, the men on guard looked at her in surprise, but waved for her to enter. One of them even personally led her towards the Jarl's tent. Outside the tent, Aideen saw a grieving young man in a warrior's outfit who looked at her with a complicated expression.
The man sighed half resignedly and half in relief, then opened the flap tent, as he led her inside the large, warm tent.
Inside the tent, Aideen quickly spotted the man she assumed to be the Jarl of Istria. The man had a deep stab wound in his chest, and a far larger gash on his abdomen, one that would have disemboweled him. The old healer Aideen once saw asleep in the infirmary tent was doing his damndest to preserve the young man's life.
The old physician glanced at her when he heard of her approach, then looked at her with pleading in his eyes, obviously stressed and distraught. "I beg of you, please help my lord," he said, nearly in tears.
Aideen walked over to the injured man, and laid a hand on his shoulder. Within mere moments, the old physician's eyes boggled as the large would on the Jarl's abdomen he was treating closed itself so rapidly it could be seen with the naked eye.
A mere few seconds later the young Jarl opened his eyes and sat up, blinking as he took in his surroundings, then at the lack of injuries on his body. The old physician and young warrior braced him from both sides before he could speak, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the stranger in their midst. The woman in white, frosted clothing with silver hair that peeked out from under her hood.
"I owe you my life, and my people's lives, milady," said the Jarl politely as he inclined his body to a bow - not very easy to do while embraced by two adult men - and looked Aideen in the eye. "Name anything you'd wish for. Should it be within my power to grant it, you shall have it, on my honor."
"It is your choices and mere happenstance that led to these circumstances," replied Aideen politely. The young Jarl seemed honest and sincere, from what she could tell, but she had never helped them for any rewards to begin with. "Just swear that you shall rule your people well, and not make me regret this day."
"You have my word, and my eternal gratitude," replied the young Jarl.
"Oh, and if possible, please ask your soldiers to keep quiet about my presence here," said Aideen just before she turned and walked out of the room. "Just keep it… our little secret."
"It shall be as you asked for, milady."
Avitue
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"Hurrah, men! Let us take down these last few stubborn fools, then Istria's ripe for the pickings! Hurrah!" - Last words of Jarl Arne Levenson of Lonsveg, during the Istria-Lonsveg-Napris conflict.
Aideen watched from afar as the battle raged on for another week. Every day, the opposing forces would clash, their wounded and dead taken away to the back at the end of the day. The snow was stained a deep, bloody red from all the spilled blood between the two forces.
Every night, Aideen sneaked into the Istrian camp and healed their injured, with none the wiser of her presence, always leaving before dawn. She noticed right away how the presence of the sentries around the infirmary tents had been lightened greatly, and couldn't help but smile to herself when that loosened security persisted throughout the week.
From her perch atop a tall tree in a nearby forest, where she looked over the battlefield with ease, she noticed that from the second day onward the Istrians kept most of their former wounded hidden in the camp, and fought on only with the rest of their army.
That pattern repeated itself throughout the week, until by the seventh day, the Istrians only had a thousand men on the field, with the Jarl's own soldiers, which had started out at eight hundred men, being reduced to less than a quarter of their original numbers. Or at least, that was the image they projected.
The coalition formed between the two attacking Jarldoms still had over three thousand men, if nearly a third of those were wounded people who were still capable of fighting. They had arrayed themselves confidently across the field from the numerically inferior defenders, thinking that the battle would be settled that day.
It was indeed the case, just not in the way expected by the aggressors.
Throughout the early morning - just a couple hours after Aideen had departed the Istrian camp - the Istrians mobilized. The "injured" people they had hidden and she had healed had moved out as a force, and hidden themselves in the forest where she watched the battle from.
Nearly four thousand of them.
The tall tree Aideen usually watched from was deeper into the forest, and the Istrians had not discovered her presence. From there she saw how the soldiers on the battlefield clashed against one another. The Istrians on the field were quickly pushed back under the three to one odds.
That was what they had wanted the enemy to think.
When the troops from Lonsveg and Napris had fully committed themselves and tried to encircle and eliminate the Istrians who were attempting a fighting retreat, that was when the rest of the Istrians took to the field.
The sudden arrival of enemy troops that outnumbered them, at their flank, threw the aggressors into disarray. At the same time, the retreating Istrians ceased their retreat and held their ground. They served as the anvil to the ambush's hammer.
Aideen watched how one of the aggressor Jarls had led his private troops - mounted on a horse and wearing ostentatious armor, he was easy to identify - to a charge moments before the ambush was sprung. He was shocked silly upon seeing the bush and swiftly taken down by the defending Istrians.
The other Jarl had tried to coordinate his remaining troops to mount a defense, to no avail. The death of one Jarl had thrown nearly half of the remaining coalition army into disarray.
She watched how the panicking Jarl had assembled his remaining private soldiers and mounted a doomed charge at the thinner section of the Istrian lines that now encircled the coalition army, the thousand or so men that had met them in battle the first time.
Aideen watched how the Istrians swiftly formed a shield wall with spears jutting out, ready to welcome the incoming charge, and put down the second Jarl while taking only a few casualties themselves.
Out of the coalition army assembled, maybe a hundred escaped the encirclement. Nearly a thousand were killed, while others surrendered and were taken captive. Aideen suspected there would be many more injured to take captive in the coalition army's camp.
She was just about to climb down the tree and leave when she spotted an anomaly. The victorious Istrians had not jubilated on their victory. Instead, she saw a small group of them rushing back towards their camp with a stretcher carried in their midst, a heavily injured man atop the stretcher.
It had not taken a genius to piece together what had happened from the clues presented. It appeared that the Jarl of Istria - she could think of nobody else whose injury would cause such gloom - had been unfortunate in that battle. Mayhaps the opposing Jarl had recognized him and aimed for him specifically, maybe it was mere happenstance and misfortune, she knew not which was the case.
With a resigned sigh, Aideen climbed down from the tree, and made her way towards the Istrian encampment. She wore white that day, since it was daytime and would blend better with the snowy landscape.
Her habit of wearing white was also partially fueled by frugality. When she fought, her attire tended to end in tatters, so she habitually got used to wearing simple, undyed white cotton rather than more expensive or dyed fabrics.
When she reached the camp, the men on guard looked at her in surprise, but waved for her to enter. One of them even personally led her towards the Jarl's tent. Outside the tent, Aideen saw a grieving young man in a warrior's outfit who looked at her with a complicated expression.
The man sighed half resignedly and half in relief, then opened the flap tent, as he led her inside the large, warm tent.
Inside the tent, Aideen quickly spotted the man she assumed to be the Jarl of Istria. The man had a deep stab wound in his chest, and a far larger gash on his abdomen, one that would have disemboweled him. The old healer Aideen once saw asleep in the infirmary tent was doing his damndest to preserve the young man's life.
The old physician glanced at her when he heard of her approach, then looked at her with pleading in his eyes, obviously stressed and distraught. "I beg of you, please help my lord," he said, nearly in tears.
Aideen walked over to the injured man, and laid a hand on his shoulder. Within mere moments, the old physician's eyes boggled as the large would on the Jarl's abdomen he was treating closed itself so rapidly it could be seen with the naked eye.
A mere few seconds later the young Jarl opened his eyes and sat up, blinking as he took in his surroundings, then at the lack of injuries on his body. The old physician and young warrior braced him from both sides before he could speak, but his eyes were immediately drawn to the stranger in their midst. The woman in white, frosted clothing with silver hair that peeked out from under her hood.
"I owe you my life, and my people's lives, milady," said the Jarl politely as he inclined his body to a bow - not very easy to do while embraced by two adult men - and looked Aideen in the eye. "Name anything you'd wish for. Should it be within my power to grant it, you shall have it, on my honor."
"It is your choices and mere happenstance that led to these circumstances," replied Aideen politely. The young Jarl seemed honest and sincere, from what she could tell, but she had never helped them for any rewards to begin with. "Just swear that you shall rule your people well, and not make me regret this day."
"You have my word, and my eternal gratitude," replied the young Jarl.
"Oh, and if possible, please ask your soldiers to keep quiet about my presence here," said Aideen just before she turned and walked out of the room. "Just keep it… our little secret."
"It shall be as you asked for, milady."
Avitue
If you enjoy this story, please consider leaving a rating or review to help it gain more exposure, thank you! Or help support the author by leaving a tip!
Read ahead on my Patreon! For 5$ a month patrons will gain early access of up to 25 chapters ahead, or for 10$ a month, gain early access of up to 55 (10% bonus) chapters ahead!
Or you can subscribe to both my stories and get a 10% discount on the price!
Join the Discord for silly stuff and chat with us!
