Chapter 131: Barsya
The news of Vorad’s march on Matarok’s lands spread fast across the three nations. It wasn’t something they could keep secret anyway, so Tymia hadn’t bothered. She was confident in the strength of her country.
She had prepared for this for many years. The past decades had seen skirmishes between the countries, but nothing greater than a couple of casualties per encounter. While they had made sure to keep their militaries stable, Tymia knew that her neighbors hadn’t invested as much into strengthening them, especially not Matarok.
Matarok was part of the same plains as Vorad and Sytttle, but they had unfortunately inherited a slightly more barren plot. They also hadn’t developed the same kind of civilization as Vorad and Syttle, instead going down their own route.
While Matarok was one country, it was as united as Tiabe with different warlords ruling their own cities and regions. For all of its history, the country had been rife with infighting and civil unrest, yet somehow remaining tied together.
It was like a large family that couldn’t help but argue with one another during reunions, but the moment one of them needed help, the others were there to reach out a hand.
That was why both Vorad and Syttle had failed to tame and put Matarok under their thumb in the past centuries.
However, not long ago, one person had done what the two kingdoms could not.
Barsya, Matarok’s Ruler, had a humble background, like most of Matarok’s population. She grew up tending to sheep and fighting and playing with the other kids in the village.
The first sign that she was different to her peers was the fact that she never lost when they play fought. Kids and arguments were as historically inseparable as salt and pepper, and in Matarok, even kids learned to settle arguments with their fists and then make up as soon as a loser was decided.
From a young age, Barsya decided that she did not look losing. From then on, she no longer lost.
At first, once the adults around her noticed, they were worried that she was bullying the other kids just because she was a little bigger and a little stronger—that she had used her first few wins to make them give her their portions, thus securing a food supply enough for her to grow faster.
Barsya denied it. The other kids denied it. The adults couldn’t tell whether it was shame, pride, or stubbornness, but since that was the case, there was nothing they could do about it.
Before long, Barsya’s strength was firmly established in the village. She caught falling house walls, chopped the most wood, and whenever the cattle was stubborn, she would just pick them up and move them out of the way.
After repeated beatdowns, she had also secured the loyalty of her peers. When they were no longer kids, they still listened to her. When she told them to train, they trained. When she told them to rest, they rested. And when she told them to arm themselves...Well, they armed themselves.
The first pivotal moment of Barsya’s life came when a nephew of the warlord technically in charge of their village came on an inspection and fell in love with Barsya at first sight. She was beautiful, sure, but more importantly, she was tall, muscular, and the very embodiment of a female warrior goddess.
She was every Matarok man’s dream.
Unfortunately, she was not interested in this warlord’s nephew.
Vise, the nephew, wrongfully assumed she was just playing hard to get. He was the son of a warlord. He had grown up training with bloodied warriors. He was tougher than most fully-grown adults. He was the hope of his uncle and was already primed to have a top spot in his warband.
There was no reason for Barsya to reject the advances of such a fine young man.
So, he kept pressing and pressing until he finally crossed the line. Well, it was Barsya, so he didn’t need to push that far.
Barsya was known for many things, but in her youth, patience was not one such thing.
She beat Vise black and blue without holding back. Then, she tied him to a mule’s belly and sent it in the direction of his home. A two-day journey took the poor mule one and a half week to complete.
Naturally, the warlord sought revenge for his nephew’s humiliation.
As a mere teen, Barsya trampled the warlord into the ground, seizing what remained of his warband after she was done venting her anger.
That was the first warlord she subjugated. In the years that followed, she went around the country subjugating the rest. One at a time, two at a time, armies at a time...However many came at her, however strong or infamous they were, they were all nothing but stepping ones for Barsya’s ascent into the annals of history.
The waves she stirred up were big enough to reach the other countries.
Barsya was a terrifying figure. She wasn’t the first Ruler of Matarok, but she was the first to have actually subdued the entire country singlehandedly.
However, to Vorad and Syttle, it also sounded like the Matarok warlords weren’t that impressive if a single young woman was enough to conquer them.
That was why Tymia thought only Barsya and her closest confidantes were the threats to her conquest of the Ruling. In a way, she wasn’t wrong.
If Matarok had gone on the defense and let the Vorad heavy infantry clomp across their borders, Tymia’s army would have done massive damage to Matarok, to the point where even someone like Barsya would struggle. For the sake of her people, she would have to submit to Tymia.
But Matarok didn’t go on the defensive. They launched a counter before Vorad’s main army even reached the border. Since it was technically the first official attack of the war, calling it a counter wasn’t quite accurate.
Nonetheless, Matarok had sent a strike team into Vorad and blown up two major bridges the army needed to cross to get to the border.
To some, it was an act meant to delay the inevitable clash between the two armies, a show of a weakness—cowardice.
Others, who knew better, could tell it was more than that.
Vorad now had two options. They could slow down and rebuild the bridges well enough for the army to pass.
It was late summer, so the waterflow in the river wasn’t the greatest. But late summer meant autumn, and autumn meant rain. A slight delay could easily become a big delay, and the army would be forced to fight after snowfall in the worst case. It wasn’t optimal, even more so considering all the resources it would take to keep the army fed and warm.
That left Vorad with the alternative, finding a place to cross the rivers flowing in their way.
Queen Tymia stood leaned over a map covering the border between their countries.
"No surprises thus far. Is the path still clear, Alexander?" She asked her advisor, who looked at the green-colored edge of the map with a frown.
"As far as I can see, yes."
"What are the odds Matarok has someone who can see further than you?"
"Not nil but not very high. Your Majesty, this is a risky plan, is there really a need for it?"
"If you can’t see what’s happening in the forest, any seer they have won’t either. If we want to catch them by surprise, it’s the only way. The other option is a war won by the side willing to spill the most blood."
"Your Majesty..."
"Barsya won’t back down, even if she is the only living being left in Matarok. We can only win by taking her out."
Tymia nodded decisively and straightened up before striding out of the tent with firm steps. She scanned the small camp she and her group had put up right at the edge of Tiabe before turning back to Alexander.
"You know what to do."
Alexander held back a sigh and nodded with a bow.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
A few hours later, Queen Tymia and a group of elite Highguards, including both the captain and the vice-captain, set off for the forest.
Meanwhile, Alexander Njiem took the reins of the army’s positioning. He split up the army. Half stayed in place and rebuilt the first bridge, while the other half moved downstream to where the river calmed down and flattened out, becoming mellow enough for the army to cross with ease, horses and nurses included.
They were going to move forward and rebuild the next bridge.
By all appearances, Vorad had chosen the slow and steady approach.
Unfortunately for them, Matarok didn’t care.