3. Baron
The book was nothing special, but it was a pagan polemic against the Crixian religion, written in a bygone age by some pagan philosopher; nonetheless it was enough to convince Morganius of what he should do in his fiefs. A tough ask, considering he was going to be ruling people who were predominantly Kena or Crixian. Nonetheless he headed for the nearest town, determined to conquer more land off of the vast Turan Empire. It took roughly a day, due to resting and eating and sleeping, but the five soldiers, their commander and the baggage train arrived at the town of Mordin. Mordin was a town of 3000, it was hardly a metropolis, but it had a sizeable population and was a worthy prize. Morganius stopped the two carts and headed out to make history. 500 troops, catching wind of some opportunistic raider had been deployed to stop Morganius and protect the town. Morganius saw the large force, and his mercenaries were panicking slightly.
“Just hold the line!” Morganius said, “I’ll do the rest.”
About 200 men came charging at Morganius and he shot a torrent of ice shards that rendered the first few soldiers dead. Then the next lot fell over into their footprint, helmets flew off, shields were pierced, sword and spear arms struck, leaving screaming soldiers. Even the mercenaries were perturbed by the sounds of the injured and dying. Still the rate of projectiles was unceasing, ice shards puncturing shields, and torsos with no remorse. Morganius’s mercenaries began to panic as the Turanian army neared, one of the swordsmen already throwing his weapons down and running, only to see the Turanians be utterly shredded in the proceeding moments to return to his paymaster. Morganius was beset with 20 horsemen, eager to end the madness of the assault, surprised to find that Morganius shot them from their saddles even at close range.
“Surely he’d run out…” one of them uttered in his dying breaths.
A horse archer came to take shots, but was promptly dismounted. The citizens of Mordin came to watch the spectacle, stunned to see that the small force was besting the garrison, the Turanian soldiers falling over one after another. Soldiers were screaming their damnations, but Morganius advanced, shooting them down, and ultimately killing a few commanders in the process. The main commander, a count of Turan watched the spectacle with absolute horror, advancing all his men, himself included, only to be shot in the neck, collapsing to the floor, and collapsing the morale of his forces, despite this they did not flee, for they saw they still outnumbered Morganius. Morganius shot them as they approached and they did indeed fall to the floor. They got within ten metres of him, and there were still 100 or so of them. His mercenaries shot at them, his two swordsmen preparing for melee combat, but Morganius became even more effective at this range, his ice shards piercing through three people at once in some instances; when men came to lop his head off, they were met with a swift and brutal end. His swordsmen swiped, getting themselves bloody, but the crossbows were largely ceremonial, small swords readying to fight, only to see pierced Turanians littered the ground. The flag of Turan, the dark green flag with the golden sword fluttered as Morganius promptly entered the town of Mordin. His two cart drivers had some goods to sell but now that was considerably more. Looting the rings and coin pouches, they found 1000 Turanian silver, worth 10 Turanian gold coins. The armour and swords were sold in the local market for extra profits, with the horses selling for another 500 silver coins. Morganius hired 50 crossbowmen, immediately losing the 500 silver he had just invested.
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“How many wagons should we invest?” One of the swordsmen asked.
“Wagons?” Morganius asked.
“Wouldn’t that be the ideal mode of transport?”
“I guess it would,” Morganius said.
He entered a stunned town, his new men put the Mikel flag on the townhall, the local Kena religious building stopped their prayers, and the new lord was met with a messenger from Mikel itself.
“Due to your recent activities, you have become a baron milord,” the messenger said, “a UU, but a baron.”
“UU?” He repeated, completely ignorant of Mikelian aristocratic law.
“Unsupported and unfettered,” the mercenary swordsmen explained, “it means you don’t get paid by the Imperial government, but also you have no obligations, you are almost independent as a lord, beyond the need to defend the realm I guess,” he explained.
“What’s your name soldier?” Morganius asked, looking at the man more closely.
“Zaras,” the man said, “quite nice to fight with you sir, quite reassuring. Or should I say lord.”
“We have many obligations, many things to do, I need to fight the Turanians and drive them out.”
“Quite,” Zaras said.
A man with black hair and a moustache and light blue eyes, he was the one who did not run away as the Turanian army approached. The messenger meanwhile dismissed himself, beyond giving Morganius a small medal. Morganius gave an announcement that would shock his new soldiers and the citizens alike.
“I as your lord am a pagan and will support the old gods establishment and worship!” He said aloud, to everyone.
His soldiers were shocked, but loyal to coin anyway, but the local citizens outright looked at him like a maniac.
“A pagan?” One man said indignantly, “your realm is Crixian, what do you mean a pagan?”
“I am a pagan,” Morganius said, “and I will bring the fight to the Turanians.”
“Pagan?” Zaras laughed, “you might be an UU lord, but even that will piss off the emperor. Emperor Theodosius the fourth will be upset.”
“Let him, he did not conquer this town,” Morganius seethed.
He spent his coins equipping his new mercenary army, getting wagons ready for transport of his new force, he got 10 wagons and 10 wagon drivers and prepared for new campaigns.
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