"Why has Sir Beruneke been recuperating in Northwild Town for three whole years?"
Lorist brought
"Because our family's manor castle has no apothecary, my lord. The head of the Dunbassen family in Northwild Town is the only Tier One apothecary in the territory, so all of Sir Beruneke's treatment has been handled by them," Steward Kedan answered.
"The Dunbassen family? Tell me about their background," Lorist said.
Steward Kedan spoke as he drove. "My lord, when the
"Our family once tried to formally conscript members of the Dunbassen family and was refused. We let it slide, since they were the only apothecaries in the territory, and instead reached an agreement: whenever family soldiers were wounded, the Dunbassens would treat them as a priority. For more than two hundred years that has been our arrangement. So after Sir Beruneke was wounded, he was settled in Northwild Town for ease of treatment."
"And what is the current situation in Northwild Town?" Lorist asked.
"At present, Northwild Town is controlled by four garrison families. Over the past two centuries the garrison families have weathered many upheavals — splits, mergers, rises and falls are all common. The garrison is currently run by the Hassan, Morin, Dunbassen, and Chubim families, the four largest in town. The lord's first illegitimate son, Morosing — his mother came from the Morin family. This time the Morins have allied with the other three to throw their full weight behind Morosing's bid for the succession. The condition is that once Morosing becomes head of the Norton family, he must elevate these four to vassal knight families and grant them Northwild Town as a knight's fief, wresting the town from the Nortons' nominal control."
Among the territorial lords of Galentea, granting a vassal family a knight's fief was rare — quite different from the medieval lordly world Lorist had known in his previous life, where knight's fiefs were commonplace. There, knights had fought and annexed one another's holdings, steadily expanding their territories.
In Galentea, what a territorial lord granted his family knights was not a fief but an annuity or a knight's estate. This was also tied to a family knight's
When a territorial lord recruited a Gold-rank family knight, or when one of his Silver-rank knights advanced to Gold, the lord had to consider whether to grant him a knight's estate. A typical knight's estate included a castle, a thousand acres of farmland, and a hundred hectares of pasture or forest and lakes — everything but the villages and towns. In effect, it was a knight's fief in all but name.
Lorist had recruited a great many friends as family knights. Once they were settled in the Northland, he would need to decide how many knight's estates to build in the family's territory. But he planned to dump the whole matter on
There were also cases where a family knight was granted actual territory — usually when he had performed great service or advanced to Sword Saint. The
For the four major families of Northwild Town, mere garrison soldiers coveting the grant of Northwild Town itself as a knight's fief — that was naked ambition, a calculated bid to set themselves up as rivals to the nominal lord, the Norton family. If they succeeded, they would shed their commoner status and leap into the quasi-noble class. Even if they still formally served as Norton vassals, they would enjoy far greater autonomy and could simply ignore Norton orders and do as they pleased.
"Daydreaming," Lorist remarked coldly. This Steward Kedan knew the matter inside and out, even down to the four families' schemes — clearly he had done his homework.
Although the walls of Northwild Town were visible from the family's manor castle, the carriage ride still took some forty minutes. The town gates stood wide open. Four listless garrison soldiers leaned on their spears, chatting idly. When they saw the carriage coming, they moved to stop it, but upon recognizing Steward Kedan at the reins they waved it through without a second thought.
Steward Kedan offered a polite word of caution.
Lorist gave a soft hum of acknowledgment and settled back in the carriage to take in Northwild Town.
Like many small towns, Northwild Town had only two gates — one east, one west — and a single main road running between them, dividing the town into northern and southern halves. In the middle of the road stood a small square. South of the square was the lord's manor, a structure of wood and stone. Built from logs and mountain rock, it had a rough, bold style. But in recent years no one from the Norton family had set foot in Northwild Town, and the manor, untended, had fallen into disrepair.
North of the square rose a gray stone hill. At its summit lay Northwild Town's water source — the Stone Hill Fountain. Several channels had been carved into the hill so that the spring water ran out in every direction, making it easy for everyone to fetch water.
Lorist noticed that the buildings on the stone-hill side were mostly of stone, the streets noticeably cleaner, and a few shops could even be seen. On the south side, near the lord's manor, many buildings had been thrown up haphazardly from mismatched materials, and there were even ramshackle huts.
"My lord, the people in the stone houses to the north are mostly garrison soldiers and their relatives. The ones to the south — those you're seeing now — are the bereaved families of soldiers who died in service. They may be related to the garrison soldiers, but they're not well regarded; they're treated as second-class in Northwild Town. Apart from these bereaved families, there are also the descendants of those who lost out in the power struggles within the garrison over the years. They hold the lowest status in town. Many of the soldiers our family once recruited came from these people," Steward Kedan explained.
"How many people live in Northwild Town now?" Lorist asked.
"A hundred years ago, the family conducted a census. At that time Northwild Town had a total population of three thousand four hundred and fifty-nine, while one thousand eight hundred and forty-two lived at the family's manor castle — over five thousand in all. Since then there has never been another census. The manor castle now holds more than twenty-seven hundred residents. On that basis I'd estimate Northwild Town at over five thousand, but from what I've seen the true total is probably closer to seven thousand. Each of the four major families that control the town numbers three to four hundred. Besides those serving in the garrison, each can field nearly a hundred private soldiers. That is the main reason the four families can lord it over Northwild Town."
"And where does the wealth of the four families come from?" Lorist asked.
"They have seized half of Northwild Town's fertile farmland. Of the two-hundred-strong garrison, over eighty belong to these four families. The families that lost their garrison positions either broke apart or were reduced to their tenants, working their fields or serving as private soldiers. Beyond that, they organize smuggling. Since our family refuses to issue them merchant caravan transit permits, they have no choice but to smuggle. Their main contraband is privately distilled salt and poached pelts… My lord, we've arrived. Sir Beruneke is staying in the lord's manor." Steward Kedan halted the carriage, jumped down from the driver's seat, and came around to open the door.
Lorist and Sedekamp climbed out of the carriage.
The gates of the lord's manor were closed. Steward Kedan went to the side entrance and called out a few times. After a moment a young man came out.
"Caxi, take the carriage round to the rear courtyard. I'm bringing the lord to see Sir Beruneke," Steward Kedan told the young man.
"The lord?" The young man started, glanced at Lorist, then silently saw to the carriage.
"This way, my lord." Steward Kedan led them through the side entrance, down a corridor and across a courtyard, to a small inner courtyard on the left side of the lord's manor.
"Sir Beruneke is recuperating here, my lord," said Steward Kedan.
Lorist stepped forward and pushed open the courtyard gate. At a glance he spotted a white-haired young man in a lounge chair in the yard, struggling to stand up.
"It's you… Brother Dali…"
Little Rok's memories flashed before his eyes like lightning. A white-haired young knight tossing seven- or eight-year-old Little Rok high into the air and catching him gently, Little Rok's laughter ringing out. This white-haired young knight had been his father's favorite squire, and the big brother little Lorist had loved most to cling to and beg to play with him. Little Rok had always called him "Brother Dali," because he could throw Little Rok so high — he was tremendously strong…
The white-haired Beruneke made two more attempts, only to find he truly lacked the strength to rise from the lounge chair. He settled back with a sigh. "Little Rok, it's been so long. I never imagined that when we met again you'd already be a lord. I should be calling you 'my lord.'"
"Mm, it's been more than ten years. You disappeared when I was ten. I cried over it back then," Lorist said, walking over to the lounge chair and pulling up a stool to sit beside him.
"That's right. I was young then, and I always wanted to see the world. So I left our family's territory to travel. I just didn't expect that when I came back five years later, you'd already been sent off to study in
"Brother Dali, what happened to your body?" Lorist asked.
"My lord, just call me Bek. You've grown up and become an outstanding lord. Calling me Brother Dali would only invite ridicule," Beruneke said with a serious expression.
"As for my body — it's ruined. You saw for yourself just now. I can't even stand up. Sigh…" The white-haired young knight looked deeply dejected.
"But Brother Dal— fine, Brother Bek, I've never heard of anyone recuperating for three years and still being unable to stand. Can you tell me how you were injured?" Lorist asked.
"A Northland magic bear had been spotted in the small woods at the edge of the northern pasture. The thing stood four meters tall and burst out of the undergrowth without warning. Everyone froze in terror. The Third Young Master's horse reared, and he was caught off guard and fell from the saddle with one foot still in the stirrup. The panicked horse wheeled around and bolted, dragging the Third Young Master behind it. Seeing the danger, I hurled my spear and pinned the crazed horse to the ground.
"But the smell of blood roused the bear, and it charged straight for the dead horse. The Third Young Master was still trapped with one foot in the stirrup, pinned beneath the carcass and unable to move. Every garrison soldier nearby had fled. I had no choice but to throw my sword as well, hoping at least to slow the bear. As it happened, the blade struck true and pierced the beast beneath its ribs, enraging it. It came straight for me. I fought it for what felt like an eternity. One misstep and it swatted me flying. As the bear lunged again, I spotted a spear one of the fleeing soldiers had dropped. I poured the last of my Combat Force into its tip and drove it through the bear, killing it. Then I collapsed."
Beruneke told it matter-of-factly, but Lorist could imagine the sheer terror of facing a magic bear up close. The Northland magic bear was among the most fearsome of magical beasts. As a rule, a Silver-rank fighter who encountered one would do best to flee. Otherwise, the human was almost never the one to walk away.
"When I finally came to, three days had passed. Master Dunbassen said if I hadn't woken by then I would surely have died. The bear's blow had shattered every rib on my right side and ruptured and displaced my internal organs. The Baron ordered me brought to Northwild Town to recuperate so Master Dunbassen could treat me close at hand. It took a full year before my condition stabilized. But over these last two years the injuries keep flaring up, leaving me weak and listless from head to foot. Training Combat Force is completely out of the question. I wanted to attend your inheritance ceremony yesterday, but the slightest exertion sets me coughing up black blood… My lord, sometimes I wonder why I didn't just die with that bear. It would have been cleaner. Now I'm only suffering…"
Lorist's brow furrowed deeply. "What did Master Dunbassen say?"
Beruneke leaned back in the lounge chair and said helplessly, "Master Dunbassen said there's nothing more he can do. My internal organs were displaced and some were ruptured. External wounds heal quickly enough, but internal recovery is agonizingly slow. I'm forbidden any strenuous activity — even walking briskly is out. To avoid taxing my organs, I'm not allowed bread or beef. Every day I'm permitted two bowls of plain wheat porridge with a pinch of salt, and every three days one small bowl of meat broth… My lord, I've truly had enough of this life."
Lorist offered his deep sympathy, taking Beruneke's hand and gently stroking it in comfort while discreetly checking his pulse.
Lorist's face abruptly flushed crimson. Fury erupted inside him. Killing intent surged forth, and his voice turned ice-cold, sending chills down the spine…
"Damn them…" Lorist said.