Chapter 6: Paving the Way

Following the initial engagement at the Monument of the Moon, Colombo's conquistadores plotted their next move. There remained many unexplored paths inland, but the coast also presented a tempting target. What's more, news had spread throughout the whole of Santa Myrmidia that other ships were appearing on the eastern horizon. They did not sail the royal Estalian colors, instead they flew independent flags. These colors ranged from piercing black to intricate designs with runes etched into them. Dwarves, other human kingdoms, pirates, and even orcs and goblins were now sailing across the Great Sea to the west to find glory and treasure in Lustria. Estalia's claims were now under threat.

The colonists in Santa Myrmidia quickly began construction of Nuevo Magritta, or New Magritta, upon making landfall. The colony itself now garrisoned Colombo's Estalian troops and Bretonnian explorers, all prepared to make their way inland into Lustria proper.

Colombo's first move was to solidify his position in his newfound territory. It would not be long before would-be plunderers came to test the Estalian defenses. On one sunny and clear day, a pirate ship sailed into view from the north, releasing several boats from its hold. Buccaneers, armed to the teeth with gunnery and swords, rowed for the colony. Shore batteries opened fire, but a devastating counter-barrage from the pirate ship silenced the Estalian guns quickly. It descended into bloody hand-to-hand fighting in the colony's streets, as the raiders poured in through the docks and the local militia swiftly engaged them. Volleys of shot were engaged, swords clashed loudly, and many lives were lost on both sides. The raid ended in a draw, with neither side able to claim victory. Although the pirates had been driven off, they left with some plunder. This angered Colombo, emboldening him to conclude his business in Lustria quickly before he then turned on the pirates threatening his prospective lanes back to the Old World.

Estalian soldiers march out from New Magritta, heading inland in search of more plunder and glory to be had. While the pirate raids had weakened their defenses, it only further emboldened their resolve to conclude the conquest of the New World so that they could then turn on those damned buccaneers.

Time was of the essence. Estalia, along with its Bretonnian allies, had to conduct a lightening campaign throughout the whole of the lizardmen realm. They had to claim as much plunder as they could before the pirates strengthened their position in the New World, not to mention the looming threat of more would-be conquerors on the way from the Old World. The last thing Colombo needed was a war against dwarves, humans, and greenskins on this hellish tropical continent. Immediately, he set about reorganizing his troops in order to better suit his needs. Hector Navarro's inability to command large forces of men relegated him to life as a troop sergeant, not a force commander. Instead, Colombo appointed one Diego de Montalban, Marquis and seasoned colonel of the Royal Army. The Marquis had recently arrived from the Old World, and Colombo was eager to put him to work. He ordered Montalban to march inland towards a newly discovered site, described to him by his scouts as a large temple complex in the middle of the jungle. There was only a scant amount of defenders, and he believed Montalban, along with the Bretonnian Sir Ramsay, could take the site easily. With their objective now set, Montalban and Ramsay marched towards their target: The Temple of Constellations.

Estalian and Bretonnian forces arrive on the scene. The Temple of Constellations dominates the battlefield, serving as a spawning pool for the lizardmen realm. In the distance, lizardmen skinks, operating as light skirmishers and temple guardians, sprint unto the field.

Upon hacking through the thick vegetation and forming up near the jungle clearing, the Estalian and Bretonnian forces observed a group of nearby temple guardians and scouts, comprised entirely of small lizardmen skinks, take cover near the edge of the field. Clearly, the skirmishers saw that they were outnumbered, but the Marquis de Montalban informed Sir Ramsay that they were more than likely sending messengers to a nearby city for aid. They had to act fast. Ramsay pointed towards the central temple, replying that his scouts had found a small trove of treasure there. All the Estalians and Bretonnians had to do was grab the loot and run. Simple. Or so they thought. The first moves went to the explorers, rapidly deploying their rangers and sending troops straight up the middle towards the temple. The lizardmen advanced slowly, trying to observe the foreigners' movements so that they may report on them. Yet, just as they did so, the strangest of things occurred: a lighting bolt struck from the heavens, right on top of the lizardmen! The Marquis and Sir Ramsay stood in shock. What in holy Myrmidia's name was that? The skies were clear and there was no sight of a nearby storm. Then, one of the Bretonnian soldiers pointed up to the top of the temple. At the very top, a small stone spire sat. It crackled with energy.

The Temple was defended by an arcane defense, shooting out lightning at any who got too close to the spawning pools!

Loud chittering and hissing was heard on the far side of the field -- lighting had struck the skinks forming up near the treeline. The Temple's defenses had activated!

However, the Temple's defenses were but only one bad omen. As the Estalians and Bretonnians closed in on the temple, the skink messengers had arrived at a nearby lizardmen city. They had sent their local garrison, along with that city's ruler, to defend the spawning pools. The lizardmen reinforcements stormed in from the eastern and western flanks, their hosts composed of large warbeasts and warriors armed with obsidian blades and iron or wooden shields. Estalian cannon and Bretonnian bow gave them ample greeting, as missiles of all sorts shrieked across the sky. Thereafter, Estalian swordsmen and Bretonnian footmen locked blades with the lizardmen warriors. Lizardmen beasts, large and imposing in their scale, trampled all in their path as they stormed the invaders. A fierce battle broke out along the flanks, as man and lizard desperately tried to push through. The Marquis grew impatient, seeing that they had to leave immediately. However, more bad omens. The men in the temple, tasked with recovering the lizardmen's gold, were allured by the riches. They wasted precious time counting the amount of coins in each chest as opposed to hauling them out of the temple! As they did so, lightning crackled again. Another ill portent. This time, Estalian militia from a nearby fort had come to help. Yet, upon arriving, a bolt of lightning struck near them, frightening them almost immediately! Now without reinforcements and with soldiers distracted by the prospect of riches, the Marquis and Sir Ramsay were in a dire state of affairs.

Enemy reinforcements! Estalian forces stare down at the incoming lizardmen, sitting atop their mighty warbeasts. The local ruler of the city, a fat toad-like creature, lets out bellowing laughs as it approaches. "Ho ho ho! Fools, all of you! You will not survive this day!"

"My, have you ever seen this much gold?!" The Estalian and Bretonnians, awe-struck by the amount of gold all around them, seem to hesitate at the order to move out. They had to act fast, 'lest they be surrounded and slaughtered!

"Move! NOW!" The Marquis and Sir Ramsay were fed up. The troops had to move out. After being snapped out of their stupor, the troops at the temple quickly ran back towards their lines, hauling their load of plunder along with them. The skinks on the far end of the field had been sufficiently frightened and fried by the lightning, leaving the offensive to the lizardmen reinforcements. The lord of the lizardmen city, seemingly content with the work of his underlings, remained near the rear. He feasted upon some tasty morsels, observing the battle with glee. The humans could not survive, he thought. Meanwhile, the Estalian left flank was holding reasonably well -- for once. The Bretonnians, in contrast, were not. Usually the last to hold out, Ramsay's footmen and knights were being cut down one by one. They stood little chance against the emboldened lizardmen defenders, who bravely defended the spawning pools. However, time was tipping in the favor of the invaders. The Estalians and Bretonnians, after having defiled the spawning pools and stolen the treasure, sprinted towards their fort on the coast. The first to make it were a contingent of footmen, then a troop of swordsmen. The last group, a host of Bretonnian men-at-arms, were cut down by lightning, javelin fire, and just plain bad luck. They chose to flee as opposed to carry the gold away. This left one chest, teeming with treasures, out on the field. Sir Ramsay had already fled the field with his troops, leaving the Marquis alone to make the final decision.

"Enough is enough. This will do." And so, the Estalians too pulled back, leaving one load of treasure behind, but a host dead lizardmen and tainted spawning pools in their wake.

"Quick, lads! Grab the loot and let's get out of here!" In the distance, a lizardmen beast, mounted by skilled javelinmen and archers, barrels down the jungle path.

"Sod this! RUN!"

It was a marginal victory for the conquerors. Two of three loads of treasure were captured and the temple was sacked. The lizardmen also took some casualties, but so did the Bretonnians in equal measure. Still, the Estalians and Bretonnians were handily reinforcing their position on the new continent. Yet, it was only a matter of time before more forces began to land on the shores of Lustria. Upon the Marquis and Sir Ramsay's return to New Magritta, Colombo informed the commanders that some of the Marquis' troops, mercenaries most of them, had gone off on an expedition into the jungle to find more treasure. What they stumbled upon was a different sight altogether: a battle, waged between dwarves, humans, and greenskins. Forces from a ambitious dwarven mountain-hold and human mercenaries from an Imperial free-city had joined forces to fight a small band of greenskin raiders, eager for blood-sport and so-called "shiny things." The Estalian mercenaries offered to assist either side, surprisingly. The humans and dwarves, eager for help, contracted the Estalians and off they went. The battle ended in favor of the greenskins, but the Estalians survived to enjoy their pay. At least, Colombo thought, they could profit from these other factions.

The temple city of Pahuax. The invaders' next target.

Even as the mercenaries returned relatively unscathed and with loads of coin to their name, Colombo planned his next move. He would let the troops rest, of course. But, once they were ready, he would call upon them to sharpen their swords and ready their powder. For he had his eyes on the next great prize: the temple city of Pahuax.

Chapter 5: Welcome to Lustria

Three ships. That's all he was given. Marco Colombo had to make do with this small squadron, as he prepared to sail west into the Great Ocean. The king of Estalia, Esteban I, had entrusted this Tilean explorer with finding a route to the trade lanes of Cathay, Nippon, and Ind in the east. Although all of the king's advisers and chancellors warned against funding such a foolish journey, for all knew that Colombo would either perish in the open ocean or end up marooned on some far-off land, Esteban and his nation were in a desperate state of affairs. The incursion into dwarven lands had failed, and he needed resources and wealth to save his homeland by any means necessary. Even though Esteban had assured his lords and ladies that this voyage would be nothing more than a trade mission, the Estalian ruler quietly mobilized a small contingent of state troops to sail with Colombo's crew. If the merchants of the Orient did not allow Estalian trade, then the king's troops were to secure it by way of fire and sword. Although a paltry number, they supplemented their meager party with enough arquebuses and ship cannon to scare the soul out of any eastern soldier.

Yet, where they were going, gunnery alone would not win the day. For as Colombo's three ships, La Pinta, La Gallera, and La Santa Clara, set sail towards the setting sun, it would be two months before the vessels finally made landfall not on the beaches of the Orient, but on the coasts of an entirely new continent. Lustria, home of the lizardmen, pirates, elves, and countless other unknown peoples and creatures.

Colombo's voyage to the New World primarily consisted of coastal travel along the coast of the Old World, mostly near Araby. After having evaded Arabi corsairs along the way, they sailed southwest into the Great Ocean and arrived not in Cathay or Ind. Instead, they landed on the coasts of Lustria.

Colombo's fleet sailed along the coasts of the Old World for roughly a month before veering off into the open sea, where the gales carried them southwest towards the continent of Lustria. Furthermore, during a summer storm, La Pinta was driven off course and separated from the squadron. However, even with the loss of a ship, Colombo pressed his crew onward. He promised his men that King Esteban would award the first man to spot land with a hefty sum of gold sovereigns, and many were now poised to stay alert while on watch. Finally, after some weeks of hard sailing, land was sighted. A sailor, perched atop his crow's nest, hollered to the crew below. Colombo stared out west, spotting the coast of a lush, jungle-ridden landmass. This was it, he thought to himself -- this must be the Orient. But, as his eyes scanned the coast, he noticed something. There were no ports, no cities, no coastal patrols. This must be a deserted stretch of land, or perhaps even a large island. No matter. They would land, head inland, and make contact with the locals as quickly as possible. To the sailor who first spotted the new continent, the prize he so desperately desired would not go to him. Instead, Colombo would write that he alone was the first to have sighted land, but chose to not alert the crew. When he returned to Magritta in the Old World, the full reward went to Colombo and not this humble sailor. The Tilean's greed began to make itself manifest.

Colombo was not alone on this journey. In addition to his crew, King Esteban sent the Tilean explorer with a contingent of 150 troops, ranging from musketeers, to swordsmen, to even pikemen and cannoneers. In addition, a party of questing Bretonnians, seeking riches and fame, accompanied their allies to the New World.

Upon making landfall, Colombo christened the landing point as territory of Estalia, naming it Santa Myrmidia. Estalian soldiers and Bretonnian adventurers, following the lead of a young knight named Sir Ramsay whom was in service to the previously mentioned Lady Sabina d'Roussel and her champion Sir Robert of Cousland, disembarked from their vessels and swiftly established camp on the shores. The Estalian contingent, led by the newly re-instituted Hector Navarro, that man who had once retreated from the battle for Irrana Pass, began to set up defenses while the Bretonnians chose to scout inland in search of honor and glory. Navarro had much to prove, for his sentence of ten years had been pardoned by King Esteban himself on the condition that the young commander be demoted to captain and serve his duty abroad in the exploration fleet. In short, Navarro had exchanged his penance in a dungeon with service in unknown lands, fraught no doubt with danger and disease. It was better than rotting away in a dungeon, for sure. Nevertheless, as Navarro and Ramsay prepared their forces, Colombo too surveyed the area. After three days, all parties reported no sightings with any local inhabitants. Just an endless, dense jungle that went on for miles. With no contact, Colombo commanded a force of Estalians and Bretonnians to pierce deeper into the heartland of this place in order to find some evidence of civilization. Navarro advised that the party proceed along the coast for the sake of safety, while Ramsay eagerly propositioned a push west. Colombo, although driven by desires for fortune, fell on the side of caution and chose to send the troops south along the shoreline.

"By the Lady, what are those?!" As patrols head south, the natives of the land make their presence known. Lizardmen warriors, brandishing spears and obsidian blades, charge into the fray! Bretonnian men-at-arms, in service of Sir Ramsay and his band of questing knights, defend themselves best they can.

For two more days, the troops managed to make it along the coast without any problem. At least not from any sentient lifeforms. Disease did begin to claim some of the soldiers and adventurers, as men keeled over from the summer heat, fevers, or dehydration at the hands of horrid blights that drained them of all life and energy. Finally, as the party grew thin both physically and in literal size, the sounds of snapping tree branches and rustling foliage began to wear on the nerves of the company. By midday of the third day of marching, these sounds revealed themselves to be the inhabitants of this land: the lizardmen of Lustria. Warriors charged from the undergrowth, archers and skirmishers pelted the invaders, and massive war-beasts chased off the remaining survivors. Entire parties were lost in this fashion, and when both Navarro and Ramsay heard of this, both knew they had to find a fortified position quickly. Being too far in to make it safely back to the landing point at Santa Myrmidia and seemingly close to nearby structures promising shelter or loot, the Estalians and Bretonnians pressed on for one more day of travel. Then, finally, they stumbled upon a complex of temples that had been teasing them in the distance. However, upon their arrival, the air around them grew heavy and the jungle became thicker and denser. Darkness soon fell upon them, almost as if the sun had ceased to exist and was instead replaced with the blackest of nights and the most ghastly of fogs known to sentient man. The explorers had entered the temple complex to the Monument of the Moon, a sacred site honoring the lizardmen's god of Tzunki, god of water and the tides.

The Monument of the Moon, dedicated to the old god Tzunki, was shrouded by a mystical darkness that compelled all outsiders to steer clear. It was in these conditions, shrouded by endless night and thick fog, that the Old World explorers and lizardmen forces engaged in open battle for the first time.

As they waded through the darkness, Sir Ramsay and Captain Navarro took up their positions with their respective contingents. Navarro, eager to rectify the wrongs of his sins at Irrana Pass, marched forward aggressively into the darkness. Sir Ramsay sought to follow the man's lead, but he found that his troops were not as eager to follow him along. Many, intentionally or otherwise, slowed down their marching speed. Ramsay, who began to grow impatient, roughly ordered his warband to quicken their pace and head inland. Eventually, after some motivation, particularly concerning threats of flogging or flaying, the Bretonnian host moved into the dark jungle. In the distance, hisses and war-cries could be heard. The lizardmen were here, and it would be at the Monument that both forces were to clash for the first time since Colombo's landings some days ago. Navarro made contact on his left flank, as his hand gunners took up position and prepared to open fire. However, in the dark, they could barely see their targets, thus their volleys were not very effective. From the thick brush, lizardmen warriors leaped out at the Estalians and cut down many of their soldiers. Nearby swordsmen rushed to the aide of the gunners, but they found barely any survivors upon their arrival. In the center, Estalians and Bretonnians engaged brave lizardmen champions, warriors chosen for their prowess and devotion to the gods. Armed with massive blades and adorned with ancient armor, they dueled with the explorers and smashed their way through formations of these would-be conquerors. The Bretonnian right flank was faring better, however. Ramsay's heavy cavalry was giving the lizardmen quite the beating, no doubt frightened by the appearance of heavily-plated knights riding atop thundering hoofed beasts. These horsemen trampled their way through swathes of lizardmen foot infantry and skink skirmishers, some of which were crushed during the Bretonnian charge.

Hector Navarro and Lady Myranda, huntswoman and part of Sir Ramsay's retinue, fight atop one of the temples within the complex of the Monument. Lizardmen warriors, sworn to protect their holy sites and people, duel with the Old World conquerors under darkened skies. The occasional spark of metal grinding against metal lights up the night!

As the battle progresses, things begin to look bleak for the Estalians. The swordsmen sent to reinforce the slain gunners are routed by a lizardmen cavalry charge, while under-equipped ship crew, sent in to reinforce the Estalian royal troops, are beaten back near the center of the fighting by lizardmen warriors and infantry. Eventually, Captain Navarro charged forth alongside Lady Myranda, part of Sir Ramsay's retinue, and engage a pair of lizardmen atop one of the temples. Navarro manages to wound one of the mighty temple defenders, but he quickly notices the state of his troops. As the darkness lifts over the field, the horrid sight of his contingent in utter disarray strikes fear and concern in his heart. Not wishing to abandon the survivors of his company, he informs Lady Myranda that he must retreat. "Coward, then!" shouts the Lady, sprinting towards her lord, "I shall inform Sir Ramsay, but your lack of spirit shall be noted!" Navarro, for a second time, flees to fight another day. The troops under his command had fought bravely, but he knew he was no infantry commander. He dreaded reporting back to Colombo in Santa Myrmidia. Meanwhile, Sir Ramsay and his troops fared better. Although Ramsay had elected to stay back and not join the fighting personally, choosing instead to leave such duties to his underlings, his troops were winning the day. His cavalry had smashed the lizardmen flank, and the remaining troops were now charging forth and mopping up any remaining resistance. What few Estalian stragglers remained joined the nearly full-strength Bretonnians at the center of the field. By now, whatever wizardry was cast over the Monument was fading, for sunlight now pierced the thick forest canopy. The lizardmen forces were now surrounded upon a nearby altar, were they were beaten back -- thus opening a path further inland into Lustria.

Surrounded! The remaining Estalians rush to aide the main Bretonnian advance, finally managing to contain the remnants of the lizardmen host at a nearby altar. After a bloody final stand, the remaining lizardmen flee into the jungle, while the humans regroup and count their losses.

Bretonnia had, for all intents and purposes, won the day. The Estalians had guarded the flank, but all their forces had fled or been slain to a man. Taking into consideration that the Estalians were undermanned, however, things turned out in favor of the human explorers. Yet, it was a shallow victory -- many were dead, the lizardmen had not been beaten decisively, and the reality of the situation had been revealed. Lustria was crawling with countless kingdoms and tribes of lizardmen, all now banding together to defend their homelands from the outside invaders. Colombo didn't find the Orient. He found himself and all those with him in the middle of an all-out war! Still, not all was lost. The remaining troops near the Monument of the Moon began excavating nearby burial mounds and raiding the sacred temples, finding untold amounts of gold and artifacts. Although Lustria did not hold the profitable trade lanes of the Orient, it did contain precious minerals and great wealth rivaling that of any eastern nation. It would have to do. Neither Colombo nor Estalia were about to abandon their efforts just because, as predicted, Colombo didn't find the Orient. Lustria was to be Estalia's salvation, even if it meant hard fighting.

And so it was that the first steps towards the conquest of the New World began. Estalia would not stop until their ships were filled with gold, and treasure fleets sailed to and from Lustria without impediment. It was the dawn of a new age. An age of conquest, exploration, and great suffering on all sides. From this conflict, Estalia's new motto would be forged.

Plus Ultra -- further beyond the great sea.

Chapter 4: Consolidation & Exploration

With the destruction of the greenskin armies on the fields of Vizcaya, the Estalian nation found itself in a state of economic and political turmoil. King Esteban I needed to garner support from his court and find a means to pay off the massive debts the kingdom had incurred during the fighting. Tilean mercenaries sat around in Bilbali and Magritta without pay, Bretonnian lords chased their levies around the borderlands as they harassed local towns, and many Estalian noblemen and women could no longer afford to raise new regiments to defend their lands -- let alone all of Estalia at the behest of the king! This why the appearance of the seasoned Tilean explorer, Marco Colombo, gave King Esteban a sense of hope. Here, he thought, was the salvation of his people and nation. Although he dismissed the irony that this would-be 'savior' was a Tilean, King Esteban nonetheless granted Colombo an appearance at the royal court in the capital city of Magritta. The news Colombo brought to present to the Estalian ruler was everything King Esteban could've hoped for, for the Tilean promised a means by which the bankrupt nation could restore its former wealth.

They simply had to sail west, into the great azure beyond.

Estalian ships, along with those of Tilea, Araby, and Marienburg, are some of the highest quality sea-faring vessels in all of the Old World. Sturdily built, well equipped, and manned by decent crews, the Estalian navy was already prepared to venture west into the watery unknown.

Yet, there was reason for delay in garnering support for an expedition. Before Colombo's arrival at the royal court in Magritta in 1492, there had been other supposed voyages to the western seas. The purpose of most, as with Colombo's proposition, was to find an easier sea route to the trade lanes of Cathay, Ind, and Nippon in the east. No one doubted that the world existed on a globe and that it could be circumnavigated, however concerns were raised as to how far the distance between the Orient and the Occident actually was. Most speculated, and rightfully so, that unknown landmasses blocked the path, but they couldn't estimate how large these undiscovered could be and where exactly they were situated. Others argued that only open sea stood as an obstacle to western travel, meaning that a well supplied expedition, crewed by veteran sailors, could make the crossing. The majority, however, believed it was impossible to make a western crossing of the great seas -- what creatures lurked in those waters and how long would the voyage last before supplies and favorable winds ran out? Apprehension and a lack of proper technologies limited the scope of any crossing attempt, but there had been reports of previous successes. Tales of Northmen on longships and Arabi traders making it to new distant lands were not uncommon, but most were dismissed as folk stories. Colombo's claims received similar skepticism, but his case was reinforced by one element lacking in all others: King Esteban was desperate.

After the battle of Vizcaya, King Esteban dispatched two army contingents to the Irrana Mountains: one to go chase off the remaining orcs, and another to regroup with Bretonnian reinforcements from Brionne. These troops, hailing from the Duchy of Nyrond, were to march towards the border with a nearby dwarf hold in order to dispute resource rights.

So desperate, in fact, that he was willing to to entertain Colombo at his court. However, even before proper talks between the Tilean explorer and Estalian kind were held, Esteban was considering other options. One of the King's chancellors approached him at court, stating that he might have answer to the nation's current economic woes. Long ago, ancient treaties with the neighboring dwarf hold of Karak Izor had been struck regarding the borders of the Irrana Mountains and mining rights for the ore veins in the area. Since there was no nation of Estalia at that time, the chancellor proposed that the treaty, struck originally with the now-defunct Kingdom of Cantonia in the east. With no treaty, the Estalians could theoretically push for a new treaty, one that may favor the now-stronger unified nation. In short, it would be war if the dwarves did not agree. Esteban had no quarrel with the Karak, but his nation was in a desperate state of affairs. Besides, he thought, how hard could a war against a single hold be? Karak Izor had little to no allies, and their armies were predominantly engaged with fighting the Bad Moonz to begin with. The excuse for war was right in front of him; all he needed to do was draft a treaty the dwarves couldn't possibly accept. 

The banner of Karak Izor, residing just east of the Irrana Mountains. For centuries, Karak Izor has served as the main competition against the greenskins of the Bad Moonz.

And so he did. As Estalian and Bretonnian forces rallied at the base of the Irrana Mountains, a messenger delivered a missive to representatives of King Alrik Ranulfsson of Karak Hirn, to whom Karak Izor swore fealty to. Ranulfsson was provided with a simple, albeit skewed, deal: the Estalians would be able to extend the borders of the Irrana Mountains by several hundreds of miles, covering ore mines previously held under the control of Karak Izor. These mines referenced in the document were, for the most part, unused by the dwarves and instead lay in contested territory between the Karak and the neighboring Bad Moonz strongholds. However, even if no soul actually settled those lands, the dwarves had claimed ancestral ties to them. Ranulfsson caught wind of this and immediately sent back a reply: the Estalians, with the usual firmness characteristic of the mountain-dwelling dwarves, were rejected. King Esteban took this as an affront to his power and people and swiftly marched a small army over the mountains into the disputed territories. The dwarves, although preoccupied with the remnants of the Bad Moonz armies that had failed to invade Estalia, summoned a warband and marched west to meet the human forces.

Estalian regiments march towards the dwarven mines, approaching by way of a valley. It would be here, on this relative chunk of flat land, that both armies would clash.

Both armies met near a hilly valley leading out from the Irrana Mountains and towards the Grey Mountains, which border the Bretonnian kingdom of Parravon for the most part. The Estalians, reinforced by levies from the Duchy of Nyrond, formed up along the western side of the valley, while the dwarves assembled their contingent in the east. Both armies lined up at dawn, facing each other as the sun rose over the mountains. The human forces, composed of standard infantry and some spell-casters, faced a host foreign to most Estalians or Bretonnians. For on the opposite of the field, the dwarves fielded heavy gunners, giants, and even bone dragons that served as deadly mounts to ride into battle. Rightfully so, many of the soldiers trembled somewhat at the sight. Many more questioned why their masters would order such a foolhardy venture. Surely, the dwarves had the home advantage. It would be hard fighting in order to dislodge them, especially at one-to-one odds! Nevertheless, as morning came, the order was given to advance. The human armies went on the march, while the dwarves readied their positions.

"These mannlings sure have another thing comin' if they think they can invade dwarven lands!" Dwarven forces, reinforced by riders and giants, assemble on the field opposite the human army.

The human commanders agreed that it would be best if their forces concentrated on just one flank of the dwarven army. The Nyrondese commander, fielding light infantry and archers, took the lead in rushing up the dwarven left flank. The Estalians meanwhile chose to begin crossing a nearby river that ran off the mountainside, electing to join the Nyrondese forces instead of simply spreading out and meeting the dwarven right head on. Immediately, however, the dwarves' position allowed them to see this maneuver clear as day. The dwarven right began to ride hard towards their left, bolstering their flank and preparing to meet the humans in pitched battle. Desperate to slow them down, the Estalians summoned some of their cavalry, sending them forth in an effort to stall the arrival of dwarven reinforcements. As the Estalian riders closed in, hellish volleys of gunfire tore them apart, with the only delay suffered by the dwarves being the inconvenience of reloading. Still, some cavalry did penetrate the dwarven line, causing only minor havoc as opposed to the stalling action the humans had hoped for.

"Quietly, lads. 'Lest the beasties on that hill see us!" Nyrondese scouts advances through the mountain woods, attempting to take up defensive positions before opening fire on the dwarven forces.

Meanwhile, on the human right, Nyrondese forces were faring much better. Many of their scouts had been able to advance without much trouble, sprinting through rough ground with ease. Bretonnian wizards, well trained in the art of spell-craft, advanced alongside them. Upon arriving at the front, a hail of arcane bolts and arrow fire blunted any attacks conducted by the dwarven left. Even their mighty giant fell to the barrage, leaving only some riders and weakened infantry to hold the dwarven line. However, with Estalians having been unable to delay the dwarven reinforcements, any gaps in the line were quickly filled in by fresh troops. When the Nyrondese hoped for their own reinforcements, what they got instead were battered and tired Estalian troops. Foolishly, the Estalian commander had decided to lead the crossing himself, resulting in him becoming an excellent target for the trained dwarven gunners. Suffice to say, the Estalian commander fell during the river crossing, leaving his force in disarray. Although the humans put up some residual resistance thereafter, the result was clear: the humans did not have the manpower necessary to breach the dwarven defenses on the mountain.

"The commander's dead! Finish the crossing, quickly -- they're tearing us apart!" Estalian troops cross the nearby river out in the open, making perfect targets for dwarven gunners.

The "battle" for Grey Mountain became the massacre for Grey Mountain, as the Estalian flank collapsed and thus forcing the Nyrondese levies to retreat 'lest they too be slaughtered. The grudge created against the humans, what with their bold attempt to attack the dwarven ancestral lands, was forgiven in blood. The dwarves won the day and saw no reason to go on the offensive, for they had other problems to worry about. King Esteban, embarrassed by the defeat, blamed the failed invasion on an uppity general that had impatiently marched against his orders. Still, the ruse was a poor one. The dwarves offered the humans "favorable" terms: Estalia would honor the previous treaties of the Kingdom of Cantonia and cede some miles instead to serve as a buffer zone against any future human military invasion. Esteban's efforts to find the necessary resources and coin to stabilize his nation's crumbling economy by way of military incursion had failed, but he still had one more option. Marco Colombo, still patiently waiting for an audience with the Estalian king, was summoned to speak with Esteban.

Marco Colombo before King Esteban I and his wife, Queen Christina. He proposed what many others had in the past: sailing west into the great sea in order to gain direct access to the trade lanes of the Orient. Esteban, already in a precarious position, had nothing to lose.

"Your Majesty," said Colombo to the tired Esteban, "I believe I have an answer to your woes." What Colombo proposed was the same many others had before him: sail west and claim the Orient as Estalia's own. It was a bold move, but certain advances now made it possible. The Estalian navy had updated many of its ships with cannon and sturdier construction. The navy itself had consulted with the Imperial Engineering School of Nuln in recent years, crafting novel instruments for long-range sea travel. Yet, there was one final piece to the puzzle. Something that had been missing in almost every other attempt to cross the Great Western Ocean: desperation. All other voyages had been conducted under the guise of exploration or curiosity, but this one was driven by the desire of a nerve-wracked king seeking to save his newly unified nation. King Esteban virtually had no choice. He either sat back and witnessed his country be torn apart by greedy Tileans and blood-thirsty noblemen or he gambled on Colombo's success. If Colombo could find a route to the Orient, the income from trade would no doubt save his people and his throne.

"Or so I've heard," replied Esteban to the Tilean explorer, "Go on." With that, the path was set. The quest for the Orient had begun.

Chapter 3: The Battle of Vizcaya

No pasaran. They will not pass. This was the rallying cry of the remaining Estalian defenders in Vizcaya. They had seen the suffering brought about at the hands of the greenskin victory at Irrana Pass. Resolute in their determination to hold back the invaders, they resolved to not allow the enemy horde one more inch of Estalian soil. So it was that their oath would be tested, and the price of its fulfillment to be paid in hard-fighting and blood. Beyond this gruesome cost, however, the Estalian nation stood to lose not only more of its fair sons in battle, but also its fortune and lands. The survival of the newly unified kingdom stood in the balance as the sun rose on the fields south of Vizcaya. One thought pervaded all armies preparing for battle: what would the price of victory be?

Dust gathers on the horizon, as the greenskin horde storm up along the Ranapierna River on their way to the outskirts of Vizcaya. The defenders watch on, emboldened by the presence of an Estalian mage and the promise of Bretonnian reinforcements coming from the east.

The greenskins had the simplest objective: smash the defenses around Vizcaya and keep the war going. The war-bosses knew that victory at the town would mean the beginnings of a mighty Waaagh!, an amalgamation of every orc, goblin, and beast for hundreds of miles. Eager and blood-thirsty warriors would flock to the banner of the Bad Moonz if the tribe could prove their worth at Vizcaya. Failure meant an end to weeks of pillaging and raiding, something the greenskins loathed to think of. No raiding meant no killing, and no killing meant no blood. Blood-sport and "teef collectin'" were at the cornerstone of greenskin "economics" -- they needed to keep fighting and, more importantly, winning.

Meanwhile, the human forces had a much more difficult task ahead of them. The town had to be held with only a paltry force, composed almost entirely of survivors from the battle at Irrana Pass and levies conscripted from the neighboring regional capital of Bilbali. The defenders' only hope was the promise of Bretonnian reinforcements that were on their way from the east in Brionne. The sole reinforcement provided by the Estalian army was a bright wizard, well versed in the lore of fire, named Ignacio Brillante. Upon his arrival, Brillante was immediately entrusted with commanding the remaining troops and Tilean mercenaries that defended Vizcaya. His response was measured, for he didn't want to disappoint his comrades -- they were depending on him after all. Still, he knew he wasn't an army commander. Brillante was sent to Vizcaya to reinforce the town's defense, not lead the soldiers there. Still, no other commanders remained. It was up to him to keep the barricades intact and hold back the bestial invader.

The greenskin horde had grown once more since Irrana Pass. Many local orc and goblin tribes saw the advantages of forming a great Waaagh! to conquer the Estalian nation -- the wealth from such a conquest would be immeasurable. 

Yet, just as the greenskin horde formed up and began their preparations to march forward, equally large clouds of dirt and dust were kicked up from the east. The Bretonnians, under the leadership of Sir Robert, had arrived. With him, he brought a large contingent of knights of the realm, bolstered by a motley crew of men-at-arms and peasant bowmen. It was clear that the Bretonnian lords on horseback would have the honor of taking the field, sweeping along the open country and smashing into the greenskin flank. At least, this was the plan. The reality was that the Bretonnians still had a way to go, riding along some hilly terrain before they could finally arrive at the outskirts of Vizcaya. In the meantime, it would be up to Brillante's garrison to hold out until the knights arrived. Thus, the wizard ordered for his rangers to hold the sides of the entryway into town, with this contingent composed of some hand-gunners and a company of mercenary crossbowmen known as Petrocelli's Valiants. The Valiants had survived the battle at Irrana Pass, and they were eager once more to face the savage enemy again in battle. To the front, Tilean cannon and pikemen, led by one Captain Fredo, were to hold the main road into town alongside Brillante himself. The stage was set and the battle for Vizcaya began in earnest.

The Bretonnian reinforcements, led by Sir Robert and his retinue, charged up the hilly terrain overlooking Vizcaya in the west. Although the Estalian and Tilean defenders could see their allies in the distance, the Bretonnians still had a long way to go before they could close the distance with the greenskin invaders.

Seeing the situation unfolding in favor of the greenskins, Sir Robert shouted for his cavalry to move in quickly. They had to charge in as soon as possible if they had any hope of supporting the Estalian defenders. Yet, they delayed. Some of the peasants in the Bretonnian contingent had gorged themselves during foraging runs, while others were struck by the sight of the greenskin host. With fear, confusion, and mild hesitation running wild among the ranks, Sir Robert found that moving his peasant levies was going to be a hard task. His knights were also reluctant not out of fear, but rather out of so-called "chivalry" and "rules of war" -- they weren't going to act like savages, charging in wildly into the fray. No. They elected to wait, holding their position near the hill until it was the right moment to strike. In every possible way, Sir Robert found that his troops were simply going to take a while to get to Vizcaya. It seemed the defenders were going to be on their own for most of the day.

It was a stroke of good fortune that the local count of Bilbali, Señor Rivera, sent a contingent of his guard to assist the besieged troops at Vizcaya. They weren't expected to arrive for at least another day, but good roads and speedy mounts allowed them get to the battlefield much earlier than anticipated.

As the Estalian and Tilean troops in town hunkered down, though, a group of mounted guardsmen arrived on the field from the north. Swiftly, they took up positions along the eastern end of town, identifying themselves to the garrison as royal guardsmen in service to the local count of Bilbali, one Señor Juan Rivera. The sight of Rivera's guard was one to behold, especially considering the delays the Bretonnians were experiencing on their side of the field. Even though they were still outnumbered, the odds of survival seemed to increase just ever so slightly. Once the greenskins were in range, Brillante, emboldened by new reinforcements and a fiery vigor in his heart, ordered for the Tilean cannons and crossbowmen to open fire on the enemy to the south. Volley of shot and bolt rained down upon the foe, harassing their advance all the way up to the edge of town. The cannon focused on the mighty giant stomping along the main path, while the crossbows elected to aim at the enemy skirmishers and infantry instead. The initial waves of missile fire did not do much to the greenskins, but slowly the rangers zeroed in on their targets.

"Sparare il cannone!" The Tilean cannon crews let fly their volleys of shot, as they explode all around the horde's mighty giant.

Even under withering cannon fire, the orcs cared little for the consequences of human volley fire. As the giant lagged behind, the mainline infantry charged across the open fields and made a beeline path for the town's defenses. All that stood between the greenskin horde and the human defenders were some meters of flatland and a hastily-erected barricade made of crates, wagon wheels, sandbags, and ruined furniture from nearby houses. There was no way that the few defenders in Vizcaya could hope to meet the orcs in melee, thus they resolved to do all they could to weaken them as they approached. As the greenskins sprinted forward, their skirmishers, composed mostly of goblin archers and javelins, let fly volley after volley of arrow fire into the defenders. A few poison-tipped missiles found their mark, injuring Brillante and his compatriots. Still, even under this sporadic barrage, Brillante procured his tome and prepared to cast a mighty, fiery tempest at his enemies. "Infernis tempestus!" he shouted, as a gout of flame exploded from his hands and towards the advancing orc warband.

"That dere humie is blastin' us apart!" Although wounded, Ignacio Brillante, a bright wizard in service to the Estalian Magus Conclave, fights on during the defense of Vizcaya. He unleashes a spout of fire towards his foes, disordering the already-battered orc warriors.

However, Brillante's spell-cast and Tilean cannon fire were still not enough. The orcs pressed on, equal parts bravery and savagery driving them forth. Local town militia commanders ran from one end of town to the other, informing the defending garrison of how the battle was proceeding. With the Bretonnians still held up on the flanks, they called upon the Valiants to re-position and begin firing their crossbows once again into the greenskin skirmishers. Yet, just as the orders were dispatched, an orc shaman ran up to the front, casting all sorts of hexes on the Valiants. Petrocelli's "orphans," as they were known, were stunned, as bright lights and haunting roars disordered them and left them in disarray. They did their best to get back in good order, but the shaman's spell-cast was just too strong. The Valiants, now distracted and virtually useless, had to be reinforced. Brillante ordered for the count's guard, that mighty royal cavalry, to charge into the fray and disrupt the enemy's advance. The guardsmen knew what this meant: they would die in the process. Still, accepting their fate, they boldly advanced towards the greenskin line and smashed into the skirmishers and infantry that formed the first wave charging into Vizcaya.

"A la carga! Viva Estalia!" The royal guard cavalry charge into the middle of the greenskin line, seeking to disrupt their advance into Vizcaya. Goblin arrow fire and orc infantry slowly cut their way through the human cavalry, scattering the remains of the Estalian charge within the hour.

Within the hour, the royal guardsmen tore a large gap through the greenskin line. However, the goblins regrouped behind the orc infantry, firing upon the Estalian cavalry and slowly whittling away at their numbers. Immediately after these volleys, orc infantry, brandishing axes and maces, charged in and cut a bloody swathe through the remaining guardsmen. Those that survived fled the field, while the remainder put up a last stand before being cut down. Once more, the path to Vizcaya lay open. The Bretonnians had by now engaged the greenskin flank, but their main forces were still some time away from the center of the fighting. With the way clear, orc warbands charged into the palisades and barricades, tearing them apart and rushing towards the town center. If the main plaza could be taken, then the defenders would surely fall. Brillante knew this could not happen. Even if it cost him his life, the sight of orcs pillaging and burning the town's outskirts would cause a chain reaction all throughout the line. So, with this in mind, he ordered for the remaining gunners and Tilean pikemen to establish a new defense inside of the town, commanding them to hold the enemy back at the breach.

"Disparen!" The Estalian gunners line up, although disordered, and attempt to fire another volley into the breach, trying to slow down the advancing orc warriors. Unfettered by the paltry defenses put up by the town defenders, the greenskins charge in and slaughter all those in their path.

The gunners on the far side of the town could not hold. Even though they had an excellent killing field, as the breach narrowed between the base of a rocky hill and the town itself, a small detachment of greenskins pushed through and threatened to storm the plaza. Quickly, Captain Fredo was ordered to plug the gap with his pikemen. He marched them into position, formed up the famed phalanx, and held his ground best he could. Yet, something overcame the seasoned Tilean mercenary. As Fredo witnessed the onslaught of the orc foe, he realized that the battle was lost: the enemy had breached their defenses, the Bretonnians were still a ways away, and the center was also in jeopardy. He and his men were surrounded. The final nail in the coffin was a ghastly sight he saw occur at the end of town. In the distance, he saw Brillante himself, the brave mage commander of the town's defense, be overwhelmed by a troop of orc infantry. As the orcs were repelled by savage cannon fire and some of Brillante's own sword-work, the mage stumbled back, bleeding heavily from his lips and side. A few soldiers ran to aid him, setting him down at the foot of a nearby tavern. There, Brillante gave his final orders -- that same rallying cry that had kept them going thus far: "No los dejen pasar." Do not let them pass. And then, at once, all hell broke loose.

Captain Fredo's Fighters hold the line, establishing a pike phalanx and attempting to hold back the greenskin advance on the far side of town. Yet, as the battle carried on, Fredo felt a great uncertainty in his heart. Could the defenders truly hold out until the Bretonnians arrived?

Severely wounded during the battle, Ignacio Brillante, mage-commander of the defense garrison, utters his last words before passing out from his wounds. Defeated and worn out, the tired mage is carted off to the rear lines. With no commander, what could the Estalians and Tileans hope to do now?

First, Captain Fredo called for a retreat of his fighters, believing the battle lost. Local militiamen tried to encourage him to stay, even offering up their own personal fortunes in recompense, but still he would not listen. The defenses had fallen.

"Cobarde -- coward! Get back in there and fight! It's in your contract, damn it!" Militiamen try to force Fredo's Fighters to head back to the front but, alas, to no success. Captain Fredo routs from the field!

With Fredo's retreat and the loss of Brillante, a lone soldier, whose name is lost to history, approached a nearby royal guardsman. Quickly, the soldier picked up a nearby Estalian banner, holding it aloft as the guardsmen ordered for the man to report in on the status of Vizcaya's defense. "Vizcaya is in danger of falling -- run to the Bretonnians, and urge them to send troops now! We cannot hope to hold them back any longer!" The guardsman nodded, and then replied swiftly, "Then godspeed, soldier, and pray to Myrmidia the day can still be won!" With that, the guardsman rode off to the east, seeking to inform their Bretonnian allies of the dire state Vizcaya was in. On his way to the flank, he saw that the town was worse off than he initially believed. From his horse, he observed that Petrocelli's crossbows were now routing as well, having seen Captain Fredo do the same. "Damn Tileans," murmured the guardsman, "They only ever think of coin!"

A lone soldier, now bearing the banner of Estalia and his regiment, informs an inquiring guardsmen of the town's status. Calling for the Bretonnians to rush to the town's aid, the guardsmen gallops off to the east in search of reinforcements.

Some time later, the guardsman arrived at the Bretonnian flank. He was summoned to appear before Sir Robert, who commanded his contingent from the top of a nearby hill. "M'lord," shouted the Estalian guardsman, "The town of Vizcaya is in grave danger! They ask that you send troops to help secure the plaza at once!" Sir Robert cackled, replying, "My good man, this battle shall be won, I assure you. Why, the greenskin savages have fallen right into my trap!" The guardsmen cocked his head to the side, confused. Sir Robert then proceeded, explaining, "You see, I have tricked the greenskins into thinking they have secured victory. Now, I shall order my troops in and crush the foe as they celebrate their premature victory!"

"M'lord, with all due respect, your troops have been slow in the advance -- and you only wait to attack until after the defenders have fallen? How could you throw precious lives away like this!?"

"Estalian," replied the brash Sir Robert, "Be grateful our soldiers are here at all. Now, stand aside, and let us Bretonnians show you the true meaning of gallantry!" Sir Robert then strode off, overseeing the deployment of his troops. The guardsman, struck by Sir Robert's nature, rode west to send word to Bilbali. Meanwhile, back in the town itself, the remaining defenders rallied around the last troops still standing: a small contingent of cannon crew, still manning their Tilean organ gun. They moved it into position quickly, having swung it about and aimed it at the charging greenskins. "Hold, hold . . ." ordered the chief gunner, lining up the shot just right, "Fire!" The cannon let loose a fiery plume of shot and shrapnel, enveloping the orc warband and causing them to fall into disorder. Yet, even these brave gunners stood little chance, for goblin skirmishers ran up from the south and began to pelt them with arrow fire. Eventually, they too fell back, wounded or dying as a result of the endless missile volleys. For all intents and purposes, Vizcaya was undefended. Yet, in the distance, a miraculous sight -- almost as if mighty Myrmidia herself had ridden down from the heavens to aid her people.

"Let them have it!" Tilean cannon crews open fire with their organ gun, ripping into the flesh and bones of the charging greenskins.

"For the Lady of the Lake!" The Bretonnians charge from the hills and make their way into the heart of Vizcaya's outskirts.

The Bretonnians charged. A mighty war-horn called for the attack, as the knightly orders lowered their lances and prepared to clash into the greenskin flank. The ensuing melee was a bloody one, suffice it to say. The second wave of greenskins, composed mostly of heavy infantry and skirmishers, held on for dear life in the face of the cavalry assault. Although the Bretonnians had been slow on the draw, when their attack finally came it did so with the ferocity of a mighty tempest of flesh and steel. Yet, not all fronts of the charge were met with success. For instance, as one of the contingents arrived to try and aid the fleeing Tilean crossbowmen, the same shaman that had disordered them turned instead to face the oncoming Bretonnian knights. With another hex cast, the image of a magical chicken was conjured up. For some reason, one of the knights was allured by this rooster, electing to break formation to go chase after it. Elsewhere, other mounted knights were slain by heavy axes or poisoned arrows, their armored bodies tumbling off their horses and crashing down to the rocky earth below. But, for the most part, the charge was successful in weakening the remaining greenskins. However, there was still the problem of securing the town.

"Let me at 'em boss! Dese humies don't know what's comin'!" Once more, the cunning night goblin "Shifty" prepares his bow to fire upon his next victim: a trio of Bretonnian knights.

"Sacré bleu! A holy chicken! Men, we must capture!" As the Bretonnian knights charge into the fray, an orc shaman casts a hex on one of the mounted contingents. A bewitched knight, now believing the magical chicken is holy, charges after it. He was swiftly demoted after the battle for his poor conduct.

Swiftly, a group of Bretonnian men-at-arms ran towards the town, able to see that the greenskins had managed to penetrate the outer defenses. An Estalian militiaman, along with the lone banner-man, sprinted towards and quickly directed them to take up defensive positions inside the plaza. Once there, goblin archers once more pelted the soldiers. However, these reinforcing Bretonnian footmen were fresh and rested. Although they did take some casualties, their spirits were high and their armor and weapons still clean and ready for battle. The remaining orcs in the town sought to engage the Bretonnian footmen, but many lost heart and quickly retreated in the face of enemy reinforcements. Meanwhile, the greenskins on the outskirts of the town were too caught up fighting with the Bretonnian knights, as the greenskin reserves were compromised by the charge. Although a good number of the greenskin forces were still eager to have at it, the war-bosses saw what way the wind was blowing: the Bretonnians had successfully reinforced the town, and they didn't have the warriors necessary to take it. Within the hour, the remaining goblins and orcs began a fighting withdrawal, as the Bretonnians chased them back to the Irrana Mountains.

Vizcaya was safe.

"Vamos -- let's go! Get in there, men!" Bretonnian footmen arrive on the scene, as Estalian militiamen encourage them to charge into the plaza. Swiftly, the reinforcing men-at-arms rush to secure the town center, thus discouraging the remaining greenskin invaders.

Victory at Vizcaya came at a great cost however, especially for the Estalians and Tileans. All the remaining defenders from the battle at Irrana Pass were slaughtered or retreated, leaving only the Bretonnians to come reinforce the town's defenses. The knights felt content with their duty, believing that they had once again saved their fellow neighbors to the south. The levy infantry, although happy that they had survived the battle, found that the Estalian town provided an excellent opportunity for personal gain. After all, there were barely any defenders left to oppose a few instances of looting or, as they called it, 'foraging' and 'recompense' for a job well done. The knights were too busy chasing the greenskins from the field to care, and the remaining Estalian militia were too weak to do anything. Thus, the Bretonnian soldiers took whatever worthwhile trinket they could find to bring back to their villages in Brionne, elated that their involvement in the battle was over.

"By Myrmidia . . ." An Estalian guardsmen watches the Bretonnians chase off the remaining greenskins, while footmen loot the homes and churches around the outskirts of Vizcaya. Unable to put up any resistance, the Estalians can only stand by and see their already embattled town suffer at the hands of impoverished levies seeking to bring back some fortune to their squalid villages in Brionne.

Still, even as looting went on into the night, the greenskins were defeated. Although defeat for the orcs and goblins meant that the promise of a Waaagh! would not come to be, this did not mean that the greenskins were no longer a threat. It only meant they were weakened, relegated to raiding the mountains once more and unable to storm the lowlands as they had done some weeks ago. With the threat of a greenskin invasion dealt with, news of the victory at Vizcaya was spread throughout the peninsula. Upon arriving at Magritta, messengers were received at King Esteban's court, informing the Estalian king of the battle's conclusion. The king was both ecstatic and concerned. On one hand, the greenskins were driven back -- they'd be relegated to banditry and minor raids, as they had been in the past. This, he thought, he could easily handle. On the other hand, there was the problem of dealing with the aftermath of the invasion in terms of diplomacy and economy. The good king had spent much in ensuring the survival of his people. There were the Tileans to pay and the Bretonnians to offer favorable treaties to, not to mention his own lords and ladies who were still bitter at the cost of the whole affair in terms of lives, land, and coin.

Esteban needed a solution, lest he find himself facing the end of an assassin's dagger, sent there by a disgruntled nobleman or an angry Tilean prince. As he pondered his options, Myrmidia seemed to smile upon him again that day with a blessing -- or, at least, what seemed like one initially. His would-be salvation came at the hands of a man who arrived at court a few days after the conclusion of the battle of Vizcaya. He was dressed in wonderfully flamboyant clothing, adorned in fine silks and leathers from head to toe. Bearing a satchel full of books and a globe of the world in his hand, he sought to meet with King Esteban as soon as possible, bringing news he thought the king of Estalia would enjoy hearing given his present circumstances. It was no secret that King Esteban was struggling to finance the war against the greenskins, and this fellow reckoned he had the perfect solution.

The solution to King Esteban's woes, it seems, would lie on the other side of the globe . . .

His name was Marco Colombo, and he was about to lead the way in discovering the New World.