"My lord, we've returned." Pat and El brought Mr. Tim into the main tent.
"Ah, you're back. Reidi, go fetch Sir Shi and Serdkampf. Oh, and Captain Dolas of the chariot squad as well."
"Have a seat. Was the journey smooth? Pat, pour Mr. Tim a cup of Moccyx. I saw Reidi tinkering with it this morning — I could already smell the aroma." Lorist said.
Before long, Fatty Shi returned to the tent with a delighted look on his face. "My lord, it's all refined flour — two hundred thousand jin at least."
"Hmm? Mr. Tim, why would Viscount Terboli have so much refined flour?" Lorist asked.
Tim rose and bowed respectfully. "My lord, this represents two years' worth of grain yield from the viscounty, all milled into refined flour for better trade. Every two years, a merchant caravan comes to purchase the flour — the total value comes to over a thousand gold Fordes. I've always been in charge of this."
"I see. With this batch of refined flour, the caravan's food supply should be much more comfortable. Thank you, Mr. Tim. Rest assured, we won't take these supplies for nothing — we'll purchase them at market price." Lorist nodded.
Dolas entered the tent and bowed in greeting. Lorist told him to wait — there would be something for him to do shortly.
After a while, Serdkampf came in with the ledger and reported to Lorist: "My lord, seven large wooden chests — a total of seventeen thousand gold Fordes and one hundred and ten thousand Imperial old-head gold coins."
"Mr. Tim, as heir to Viscount Terboli, I believe a thousand gold Fordes is a fitting ransom for your freedom. The remaining gold will be kept with our caravan for now. During this time, all expenses for you and your subordinates will be deducted from this sum, until we help you secure the viscounty. Any surplus will be returned to you. Do you find this acceptable?" Lorist looked at Tim as he spoke.
Tim bowed deeply. "My lord, everything shall be done according to your wishes."
"Very good. You're a wise man. Mr. Tim, how many people are currently willing to serve you?" Lorist asked.
"Well... I'm not entirely sure myself. There should be over six hundred. The exact number would have to be confirmed with Sir Clemens..." Tim thought for a moment, clearly uncertain.
"Sir Clemens? Who is he?"
Tim hurried to explain that Sir Clemens was a family knight of Viscount Terboli, a two-star
To keep him out of sight and avoid the irritation of seeing him, the viscount had posted him to the estate to guard the trade flour. When Tim was ordered by the viscount to hide the grain, it was with Sir Clemens's enthusiastic assistance that he managed to pull it off. By the time they returned to the castle, they discovered the viscount's entire family had perished. So Sir Clemens pledged his loyalty to Tim, intending for him to continue the Terboli bloodline — gathering the estate's folk and retreating into the western mountains to build a stronghold as a force resisting Count Corbilly.
When the sweep force breached the stronghold this time, Tim had ordered a quick surrender, so the casualties among the stronghold's people were minimal. After the caravan rescued them, Tim once again became the leader of the original stronghold folk. Combined with members from several nearby allied strongholds, he quickly gathered over six hundred young men. However, Tim admitted he knew nothing of military matters and left everything to Sir Clemens.
"Tell you what, Mr. Tim — go back and gather your people. I'll have weapons and equipment issued to your forces. Take them to the camp across the way and set up your own encampment. I'll allow you to fly the Terboli family banner. Then send a few eloquent people back to the western mountains to spread the word that our caravan intends to attack Count Corbilly's territory. Invite the various resistance forces there to come join us, to watch the battle and boost our morale. They're also welcome to take the opportunity to raid Count Corbilly's family lands for whatever they can carry — everything they grab is theirs to keep. Once you've settled your forces, have Sir Clemens supervise their training, then come back here for proper aristocratic etiquette instruction."
"Dolas, meet Mr. Tim — he is the heir to Viscount Terboli. Due to certain circumstances, Mr. Tim hasn't received aristocratic etiquette training. I know you served for a time as an assistant instructor in the etiquette class at
"Yes, my lord." Dolas bowed, then turned to Tim. "Let's go, Mr. Tim. You may now attend to the tasks His Lordship has assigned, and I will be observing your every action to identify areas where your behavior and manners need improvement. Your etiquette training has already begun."
Lorist turned back to Fatty Shi and Serdkampf. "— at seventy percent of market price. As for the supplies they need for their separate encampment, provide them in full. You two — don't get too greedy. A slight markup is fine, but don't jack up the prices tenfold."
Fatty Shi laughed. "I was just in my head wondering whether to mark up the prices several times over, and you've already seen through me. Fine, Serdkampf — do as your young master says. We won't mark anything up. Weapons and equipment at seventy percent, everything else at market price for Mr. Tim. It's all on you."
"Understood." Serdkampf bowed and hurried off.
Now only Lorist, Fatty Shi, El, Pat, and Reidi remained in the tent. Pat couldn't help asking Lorist: "My lord, why do you indulge this Mr. Tim so much when you know full well he's a fraud posing as a noble? Not only do you let him raise an army, you're having someone teach him how to be a noble. Isn't that going a bit far? Back in Northland, a fraud like Mr. Tim would have had his head mounted on a wall long ago as a warning to others."
Lorist laughed. "Pat, whether Mr. Tim is a fraud isn't for us to decide. In truth, after the entire family of Viscount Terboli perished, finding an illegitimate son to carry on the bloodline is perfectly justifiable — it's not without precedent among the nobility. If we were in Northland, I would do as those nobles do: execute him as a fraud, take his head, and annex the viscounty in the bargain. But this is the Kingdom of Redelis, thousands of miles from Northland. Why bother doing something so thankless? Killing Mr. Tim would bring us no benefit whatsoever. On the contrary, by cultivating him into a local power, we do our family a favor by building a relationship. In the future, in this region, our family will have gained an ally. Understand me?"
Fatty Shi chimed in from the side: "Besides, giving Mr. Tim our full support and helping him build a family army is exactly the kind of precedent we want to set for all the forces in this region that resist Count Corbilly. Do you want to be our friend, or our enemy? Be our friend like Mr. Tim — we give you weapons and equipment, help you reclaim your territory. Be our enemy, and we'll crush you without mercy. Most importantly, we don't lack gold or weapons — what we lack are people willing to trade. So there's no need to scheme after the paltry gold and grain Mr. Tim brought. As long as we deal fairly, those resistance forces will naturally come to trade with us."
......
True to Fatty Shi's word, once Tim had established his own encampment across the way and raised the banner of Viscount Terboli, once Sir
Quite a few resistance forces wanted to trade warhorses for grain, but Fatty Shi turned them all down with the excuse that despite their large operation, the caravan's food stores weren't exactly abundant. However, Fatty Shi let it be known that in the next couple of days, after destroying Count Corbilly's reinforcements, the caravan's forces planned to send troops into Count Corbilly's territory for a grand raid — and all were welcome to join in and make a fortune. The resistance forces were skeptical, but many left people behind to see whether Fatty Shi was telling the truth, whether the caravan's forces really intended to destroy Count Corbilly's reinforcements.
Two more days passed before
The annihilation of Count Corbilly's reinforcements was a thoroughly unremarkable affair. When the lancer squadron realized they had stumbled into an ambush and were surrounded, they fell into chaos. Sir Jossk put on a spectacular display, unleashing his legendary archery before everyone's eyes — three arrows brought down the three Silver Knights leading the squadron. After the battle, it turned out two of those Silver Knights were illegitimate sons of Count Corbilly. Sir Jossk had gotten a satisfying measure of revenge.
Immediately after,
After the battle, Lorist and his family knights discovered, with considerable embarrassment, that despite the light casualties, the only soldier killed had been felled by friendly fire — knocked off his horse and trampled to death. There were also dozens of cases of self-inflicted wounds and friendly injuries, while wounds sustained from actual combat with the enemy numbered fewer than ten. When these statistics were compiled, Terman, Bodfenger, and Ross turned as red as monkey posteriors, thoroughly mortified.
Very quickly, the leaders of various resistance forces in the western mountains arrived at the military camp with their men — three hundred here, five hundred there — filling the camp across the way to bursting. Lorist and Fatty Shi gathered all these resistance leaders and spent a day and a night negotiating. After the caravan's forces agreed to provide them with military protection, and with Fatty Shi stirring them up about not letting the opportunity slip, nearly three thousand resistance fighters surged toward Count Corbilly's territory.
The first to suffer was Count Corbilly's original family estate. Bodork Manor Castle received over a dozen alerts in a single day — this village being raided by bandits, that warehouse under attack. Signal fires sprang up everywhere. The Gold-tier illegitimate son of Count Corbilly who was holding Bodork Manor Castle furiously mustered three squads of garrison troops and marched out to deal with the bandits who dared trespass on Corbilly lands. After crushing two waves of village-raiders in succession, Bodfenger and Ross appeared before him at the head of a heavy-armored lancer squadron. The ending was grim: all three garrison squads were wiped from existence, and the Gold-tier bastard's head was mounted atop Ross's lance.
On seeing that head, the last garrison squad defending Bodork Manor Castle made the wise choice to surrender, and the castle fell intact into Lorist's hands.
"Move out!" Fatty Shi sat astride a tall Zeno warhorse, cracking his whip in high spirits.
Nearly a thousand carriages formed four columns and wound their way into the distance. At the camp, the
On receiving Lorist's message, the well-prepared Fatty Shi ordered the family caravan to march toward Bodork Manor Castle. Before departing, Fatty Shi struck a deal with Mr. Tim, selling him the military camp for a thousand gold Fordes. Tim, finding the original viscounty in ruins and judging the camp's defenses far superior to his mountain stronghold in the west, was only too happy to agree. The two hit it off immediately.
After several days of aristocratic etiquette training, Mr. Tim had developed a certain noble bearing — at least his attire and grooming were now entirely presentable. With the caravan providing supplies, he had been flying the banner of Viscount Terboli to recruit men and gather refugees. By now he had over a thousand able-bodied soldiers and more than two thousand commoners. Among the resistance forces, he counted as one of the larger armed groups. The only thing troubling Mr. Tim was that his deposit in the caravan's ledger was dwindling fast — there were only about ten thousand gold Fordes left.
This wasn't because the caravan had skimmed Mr. Tim's gold — quite the opposite. Mr. Tim was deeply grateful for the caravan's help; every transaction had been at clearly stated prices with substantial discounts offered. The cost of sustaining several thousand followers was simply enormous. As a result, Mr. Tim was eager to join the raid on Count Corbilly's family lands. This time, he brought eight hundred soldiers to march with the caravan and ordered each man to carry an oversized bag for plunder.