When he thought about it, it made sense. The slave laborers earned money for the Kemmes family and could at least eat their fill. These immigrants were different — they had been vagrants to begin with, and surviving one meal at a time was already good enough. The Kemmes family had brought them to Northland, handed out a few acres of farmland, given them some grain and clothing, stuffed them into the new immigrant town, and that was that. After two years they would have to start paying taxes too. It was no surprise that people who couldn't eat their fill or stay warm would be in such poor shape.
It would take at least half a year before they would be of any use. Lorist was stroking his chin and mulling this over when he spotted Trusty's black-iron steward entering the recruit camp and hurrying over.
The black-iron steward approached, bowed, and said, "My lord, the miss requests that you come to the city-construction headquarters. There are important matters to discuss."
What Miss Trusty wanted to discuss with Lorist was, as expected, the construction of the main keep. The keep followed the contours of the mountain and connected to the cliff face, rising six stories high in a majestic display — easy to defend, hard to assault. This had been settled long ago, and construction had already reached the third story.
However, the hillsides on both sides of the main keep had large stretches of open land. The plan was to build clusters of villas on these plots, serving as residences for the family knights and civil officials under Lorist's command. The villa blueprints were now ready, awaiting Lorist's approval.
The northern hillside was broader and more level. With the assistance of Hieroba, the master architect, Trusty had drawn up two proposals. The first called for larger villas — thirty-eight in total. The second proposed a cluster of smaller villas, making use of the hillside to fit fifty-eight units — twenty more than the first plan.
The southern hillside was steeper with a greater drop in elevation. Even making full use of the available space, only eleven villas could be built there. Lorist had come primarily to decide which plan to adopt for the northern hillside.
Lorist stood before the scale model for a long while, still feeling dissatisfied. After some thought, he said to Trusty and the others, "How about this — the northern hillside has four tiers. Build the large villas on the top two tiers and the smaller villa cluster on the bottom two tiers. That's the decision. As for the southern hillside, I suggest following the terrain and constructing apartment buildings. I believe we should be able to fit three buildings. I want each apartment to be spacious — don't just make them into single rooms or suites like academy dormitories. Each unit should have four or five rooms, like the small villas."
Leaving the construction headquarters, he saw Paulbins riding up at a gallop. "My lord, two beggars have arrived. They say they're messengers from the convoy and they're looking for you..."
Messengers from the convoy? Lorist's spirits lifted. "Where are they?"
"Waiting outside your room..." Paulbins dismounted and handed over the reins.
Reidi and the others had been gone less than ten days, and a reply had already arrived — the convoy must be nearing its destination soon. Lorist was elated and whipped his horse into a gallop toward the southern wall.
Once he reached the ramparts, Lorist saw two figures standing outside his room — tattered, barely clothed, their faces caked with grime. One of them was wrapped in dark bandages. No wonder Paulbins had called them beggars.
The moment they saw Lorist striding toward them, the two beggars — no, messengers — burst into tears on the spot, collapsing to their knees and sobbing uncontrollably. "My lord, we've finally found you..."
Lorist asked with a frown, "You are...?"
"My lord, I'm Ruhl, and he's Mod. We're from the convoy's guard detachment. Have you forgotten us?" said the uninjured one through his tears.
Ruhl, Mod — yes, these were indeed two of Ayr's guards. But they looked absolutely wretched.
Lorist kicked the leg of a nearby guard who was standing there grinning and enjoying the spectacle. "You blind fool — hurry up and get some water for these two brothers to wash up. What are you grinning at? And go fetch Sedkamp."
After washing their faces and changing into clean clothes, the two messengers finally looked somewhat familiar to Lorist. Sedkamp, who had arrived upon hearing the news, recognized them right away. His job with the northbound convoy involved leading guards to inventory warehouses and tally captured goods — he called out their names without hesitation. "Ruhl, Mod — what are you doing here?"
"Sedkamp, sir, we came to deliver a letter." The mention of their mission set both messengers to weeping again.
The letter was in Lorist's hands — four or five pages altogether. In it, Shrade detailed the great victory at Green Plains, Ayr's injury, the arrival of the
Reading the letter left Lorist torn between joy and worry. He was happy that his cousin — the chubby little girl who used to bully Little Locke when they were children — was now a
Lorist instinctively glanced at Fatty Shi's signature and the date, and froze — the letter was dated the twenty-eighth of June...
That was nearly two months ago. It had taken them less time than that to reach Northland, so how could delivering a letter have taken so long?
The two guard messengers broke down in tears again. "My lord, there were twelve of us when we set out. Now it's only the two of us..."
Lorist's eyebrows shot up. "What happened?"
"My lord, the twelve of us were fully armed, each with two horses. We ran into no fewer than ten bandit ambushes while crossing the Andinak Kingdom. By the time we reached the Duchy of Madras, only seven of us remained. Madras itself went fairly smoothly — we made it through without incident. But when we got to White Stone Town near the Hendley-Fuso Bridge and were about to cross the river, a merchant caravan coming from the other side told us that Duke
After crossing, we found a town to rest and buy food. But the garrison there insisted we were bandits and tried to arrest us. We fought our way out with only five left — our luggage and horses were all lost. The garrison troops were too terrified of us to chase beyond the town walls, and we managed to escape. We had to travel on foot for five days until we reached the territory of a certain Baron Falade. We hoped the baron might help us, but instead he declared we were vagrants and had us seized. He stripped us of our money, weapons, and iron armor.
We were forced into hard labor by that baron for over a month. Then the baron went to war with some viscount or other, shoved a spear into our hands, and forced us onto the battlefield. After two days of fighting, Veilin and Azik were both killed. Mod, Gilson, and I escaped in the chaos. Gilson had been hit by three arrows and didn't survive long after we got out. Mod and I didn't dare enter any more towns or villages and wandered the wilderness for six days before finally making it here to you, my lord..."
Ruhl finished recounting their harrowing journey to deliver the letter, tears streaming down his face.
Lorist slammed his palm on the table with a resounding crack. "Outrageous! What was that baron's name? And the name of that town?"
No need to guess — it had to be one of those lords newly enfeoffed in Northland by the Second Prince. The people of Northland had always been hospitable. Travelers in need could seek help from nearby lords or towns and villages and receive aid. Messengers, in particular, could find lodging with Northland lords and even receive banquet hospitality — not for any special reason, but because the lords wanted to hear news from afar and learn about conditions beyond Northland. Generous lords would even reward messengers with a few coins.
Ever since the Second Prince had enfeoffed forty or fifty new nobles in Northland, the region had been turned upside down by these outsiders. Those without money would pose as bandits to rob others; those without subjects would raid nearby towns and villages to seize people. Many conflicts between old Northland lords and the newcomers stemmed from exactly these issues. At the banquet celebrating the conclusion of the recent knight tournament, one lord had even recounted how a newly enfeoffed lord had been recognized while pretending to be a bandit to rob another lord's caravan.
Baron Falade, was it? Lorist consulted a map and confirmed he was indeed a new lord whose territory was only two days' travel from
"Send the guards outside to find
"How is the convoy doing now? Is Ayr recovering well from his injury?" Lorist asked Ruhl and Mod.
Ruhl answered, "The battle at Green Plains cost the convoy very few casualties — fewer than a thousand. If Lord Ayr hadn't been wounded, he would have been the one leading the group to deliver the letter this time. Last time at Benzburg, when Lord Shrade sent a letter, Ayr was originally going to come himself. But after Lord Bodfeng returned from the imperial capital, Ayr changed his mind and sent someone else instead..."
"Wait —" Lorist's brow furrowed as something didn't add up. "You're saying that back at Benzburg, Knight Shrade already sent someone to deliver a letter to me?"
"Yes..." Ruhl replied, then suddenly realized something. "Could it be... could it be that you never received the letter? Never saw the messenger?"
Lorist shook his head.
Ruhl and Mod exchanged a look, their faces filled with a mix of relief and dread.
Ruhl said, "My lord, they set out a full month before us. The letter Lord Shrade wrote to you was mainly a report on the convoy's situation and the news Lord Bodfeng had brought from the imperial capital. The messenger was Krimo — he was also a guard, my lord, you should know him. They were twelve in number, just like us. And they still haven't delivered the letter to you. Given what we went through, they may... they may have met with disaster..."
"If they're alive, I want them found. If they're dead, I want their remains. I will track down their fate. No one who harms our messengers will escape the Norton Family's retribution. I will give you an answer," Lorist said through gritted teeth. No wonder the letter from Fatty Shi had felt so incomplete — there had been another group of messengers who had vanished, and he'd been missing a letter all along.
"Tell me about the convoy's situation. The letter didn't cover everything," Lorist said.
Ruhl and Mod began taking turns describing the convoy's affairs.
...and that the Second Prince had taken notice of the convoy's armed strength and asked Fatty Shi and the others to help suppress those rebellious lords...
Lorist now finally understood why Fatty Shi had been so confident in his letter about reaching an agreement with the Second Prince. The convoy's strength had grown so rapidly that it could now determine the fate of an entire kingdom. It seemed there was no need to worry about the convoy's safety for the time being. The letter was dated June 28th, and today was September 9th — roughly two and a half months had passed. If things went smoothly, the convoy should have completed its agreement with the Second Prince by now.
Jossk and Washima announced themselves at the door and entered the room.
Lorist beckoned them forward, pointed to Baron Falade's name on the map, and recounted the ordeal Ruhl and Mod had endured on their mission. Jossk and Washima were furious.
"This is a disgrace to the nobility..." Washima said.
"My lord, we must punish this Baron Falade. No one can treat our messengers this way," Jossk said.
"I order you to take a squad of mounted archers and a cavalry company. Hang this Baron Falade at the gates of his castle, burn his castle to the ground, and post a notice explaining why we did it — let these newly enfeoffed lords learn something about the traditions and rules of Northland," Lorist commanded.
"At once, my lord. We will carry out your orders," Jossk and Washima replied with a salute.
"Don't rush off just yet. You'll need to cross through Count Spensade's territory this time. I'll write him a letter for you to deliver, so there are no misunderstandings. Also, according to Ruhl and Mod, there was another group of messengers before them, but we've received no word of them. After you carry out this mission, inquire about their whereabouts — find out who's responsible..."
"Understood, my lord," Jossk and Washima answered.
Ruhl and Mod stood up.
"My lord, please allow us to go with them. We want to collect the remains of our comrades," Mod said.
"You've just arrived. Can your bodies hold up?" Lorist had no choice — their reasoning was too compelling.
"Our bodies will hold, my lord," Ruhl said.
"Then here's what we'll do. Rest for one day and set out tomorrow. Get a good night's sleep. I'll examine Mod's injuries — if there's nothing serious, I'll allow you both to go. Personally hanging that Baron Falade — I'm sure you'll be happy to accomplish that. Sedkamp, tomorrow you'll also take twenty guards and go with them. Help them recover the remains of those heroic guards who gave their lives. When you return, I want them buried at the Martyrs' Memorial in Rock Fortress," Lorist said.
The Martyrs' Memorial was a military cemetery Lorist had established on the hilltop opposite the main keep of Rock Fortress. All family soldiers and guards who died in battle were buried there, making it convenient for future generations to pay their respects.
"Thank you, my lord..." Ruhl and Mod said in unison.
"Yes, my lord." That was Sedkamp's response.