Victor's scouts had acted diligently in their duty. They scoured the lands surrounding Lodi, trying to locate the Red Visconte Army.
They rode in loose formation, spread wide across the rolling countryside, their silhouettes shifting between the low hills and scattered groves. The sun was low, throwing long shadows that reached toward the horizon as the horses' hooves thudded softly over dusty trails and patches of wild grass.
Each man kept his eyes scanning—ridge lines, tree lines, distant valleys—for the telltale shimmer of metal or a column of dust that might betray the enemy's march. Musketoons and carbines rested across saddle holsters, while sabres hung at their sides, swaying with the horses' gait.
Every turn in the road, every whisper of wind through the trees, could mean the difference between finding their target or riding headlong into an ambush. In the silence between hoofbeats, the weight of their mission pressed as heavy as the steel at their sides. The cavalrymen did not succumb to this pressure; they were members of the Luxenberg Royal Guard. They were elite soldiers who acted directly on the King's orders.
Five days into their mission, one rider noticed the air carried scents of wet earth and woodsmoke. Given their current location, this was a peculiar discovery. They scanned the area to notice from somewhere beyond the hills came the faint murmur of movement—too steady to be wind. Quickly, they dashed to cover in a small cluster of trees. They did not want to reveal their presence.
Their cautiousness may have been over the top, but it was not worth risking the possibility of being discovered by the Red Visconte Army. One of the cavalrymen dismounted from his horse and slowly approached the direction he saw the movement. He knew the enemy was potentially close, hidden among these foreign fields, and that his task was to find them without being found.
Each step forward was a delicate balance between caution and urgency, the land itself a chessboard where every wrong move could summon the thunder of an army waiting just beyond sight.
As he almost reached the top of the hill, he dropped done into a prone stance. He could hear faint and foreign conversations. With extreme caution, he slowly crawled closer, just enough so that he could discreetly peer over the hill and see what was hiding behind it. When he could see what was behind the hill, he realised he had stumbled upon what he was searching for.
White canvas tents stood in precise rows across a level stretch of open ground, their lines neat and orderly under the fading evening light. The ground between them had been swept clear of stones and debris, and pathways of packed earth ran like straight corridors from one end of the camp to the other.
At the camp's centre, a raised red manticore flag caught the breeze, its colours shifting against the warm sky. Around it, wooden tables and benches formed a gathering point where officers pored over maps by the glow of lanterns.
Fires burned in carefully dug pits, their smoke curling upward as pots of stew and kettles of coffee simmered. The scent of woodsmoke mixed with the aroma of cooking meat drifted across the camp.
Horses were stabled in orderly rows at the far edge, their tack hung neatly on posts. Muskets and bayonets rested in stacked formations, polished metal catching the last rays of sunlight. Soldiers moved with quiet efficiency—some sharpening blades, others patching uniforms or checking cartridge boxes.
The cavalryman could not get an accurate count of how many tents there were due to the fading light, but it was certain that the majority of the Red Visconte Army was present. By the looks of things, it seemed they had been camped there for a while; the camp was too neat and organised to think overwise.
As night drew in, the camp settled into a rhythm: muted conversations over the crackle of fires, the soft clink of tin cups, the occasional jingle of harness from the horse lines. Lanterns glowed inside the tents, casting steady light onto the orderly scene.
Beyond the perimeter, sentries paced with muskets shouldered, their watchful silhouettes standing against the darkening horizon. The cavalryman panicked as he saw the sentries approaching his location. As such, he hastily crawled away, hoping that the oncoming darkness would mask his movements and not draw suspicion.
It was thanks to the evening's darkness that the cavalryman could return to his group undiscovered. The information that he had was of the utmost importance and could not be squandered. He rushed to write on a parchment his information and gave it to a messenger pigeon.
The pigeon burst skyward in a flurry of grey feathers, wings beating with sharp precision as it escaped its cage. The air was cool, the evening mist beginning to cling to the fields below, but the bird climbed higher, finding the clean currents that carried it forward. Its beak pointed true, eyes fixed on some invisible path etched in instinct, the earth rolling past far beneath.
Hours passed beneath the stars, and at last the horizon began to change. A faint orange glow appeared in the distance, swelling into the soft shimmer of torchlight and lamplight, the city's walls and towers slowly taking shape.
Descending in wide, silent arcs, the bird skimmed over quiet streets and shadowed rooftops until it alighted on a familiar ledge. Its claws clicked gently on the stone, the rolled message still bound securely to its leg—delivered through the dark hours, unseen but certain.
A servant who was assigned to look after the pigeons was startled by the bird's sudden appearance. He saw the message attached to its leg and quickly procured it. With all his might, he dashed throughout the palace to locate Prince Alphonse and King Victor.
When they were found, the servant bestowed upon them the message that the pigeon had worked hard to deliver. Both men thanked the servant for his hard work and dismissed him. With the message firm in hand, the pair of men began to look through its contents.
The cavalrymen's success had given the rulers vital information on where the Red Visconte Army was. As a result of this news, both men ordered their commanders to gather for an emergency meeting.