Rise of the Lord
Author: Thunder Surfer
Date: 2021-03-27T00:00:00+00:00
Publisher: anonymous

Table Of Contents

- Table Of Contents -
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Gerald walked through the halls of the Malfi palace, annoyed. He had been summoned to the Lord's Hall, even though the Duke and his sons had promised not to bother him on his birthday. He was to be left alone.

However, a servant had interrupted his training with Uncle Rudolf. He said that something important had come up and he had to meet the Duke, but didn't say what exactly had happened. If Gerald had to guess, then it would be just another excuse to have him suffer the daily ridicule.

"What do you think it is, Uncle Rudolf?" Gerald asked.

"Hmm," Uncle Rudolf pondered for a moment. "I don't think the Duke would ask for you to come himself if it was something trivial. His sons might toss you around and undermine you, but the Duke wouldn't lower himself to do it to you himself."

"He does turn a blind eye to their doings though," Gerald grumbled. He had just turned twenty, but he couldn't even have peace for a single day.

"Well, it's not like he is fond of you or the Tellus family," Uncle Rudolf said. "Whatever it is, Gerald, make sure you stay as respectful as you can. You must give the Duke face if you don't want your life to be even harder here."

Gerald nodded. Uncle Rudolf's advice wasn't something Gerald would ignore. It had saved him from a lot of trouble during the 14 years he'd spent as the Duke's ward.

Uncle Rudolf was Gerald's steward. He'd raised Gerald since he was a toddler. He was a steward to Gerald's father and Gerald after him. What the Duke and his cronies didn't know, however, was that Uncle Rudolf was a Sky Warrior. He was actually a rank 4 Sky Warrior, which made him stronger than even the most elite soldier of a regular army.

Uncle Rudolf had told him to keep it a secret when he was still 12 years old. The reason he came here to the Malfi City with Gerald was to keep him safe as well as guide him in his Warrior training. It had paid off. Gerald was now an Earth Warrior of the 5th rank.

It was well known that warriors on the Asura continent were divided into several levels. Even the weakest of them was stronger than regular soldiers. The first step on the path of Warriors was Earth which had 5 ranks. Following Earth was Sky which had 4 ranks. The highest warrior level was Heaven. It was the epitome of warriors and it had 3 ranks.

Gerald had heard from Uncle Rudolf and the Duke's sons that a person could transcend the warrior path after the Heaven rank and become a Battlemaster.

The Duke's sons had bragged that their family had a Battlemaster guardian knight who always stayed in Malfi City.

Gerald had even heard about the legendary Battlesaints who were more rare than kingdoms on the Asura continent. Even the Duke hadn't seen a Battlesaint in his whole life. If Earth rank warriors were like the most veteran soldiers of an army, and the Sky rank warriors were elites and officers of an army, while the heaven rank warriors were harvesters of lives on the battlefield; then Battlemasters and Battlesaints were gods of combat. Although, they weren't invincible, they were the kind of people you didn't want to meet on any battlefield as enemies. A Battlemaster could go through a group of 50 regular soldiers like they were nothing. He wouldn't face off against a thousand men, but he could heavily cull their numbers with guerilla tactics over several nights. Battlesaints on the other hand were a mystery to Gerald. He'd never seen one, and he'd never met anyone who had.

Uncle Rudolf herded Gerald towards the Lord's Hall, while the latter grumbled about the injustice he was suffering. He'd been handed to the Duke by his father as a 'ward' or in other words, a hostage. The war between the Andross Empire and Gerald's home, the Maric Kingdom, had ended without a winner 14 years ago. A peace treaty was signed. However, at that time, Duke Malfi had conquered most of the territory of the Tellus Viscounty. Naturally he had to leave, but before leaving, he was entitled to demand a ransom. He had defeated the Tellus family and conquered their land in a fair battle. Although he did it under the command of the emperor, he had done it alone and at his family's expense.

The Tellus family at that time was suffering along with Gerald's father. There was nothing to pay the ransom with, and the Duke had refused all other methods to resolve the issue. In the end, the Duke demanded that the Tellus family hand over the second son, Gerald, to be a ward; and the young daughter of the Tellus family, Lena, to be the future wife of the Duke's youngest son. Maric's king and Andross's emperor agreed to the Duke's request and the Tellus family had to give in to the demands for the sake of peace.

Since then, Gerald and Lena had to live in the Malfi city as nothing more than fancy prisoners. In the future, Lena had to marry that fat bugger who was the Duke's youngest son, and Gerald had to learn the rules of aristocracy and the ways of the knight as a nobleman. According to Uncle Rudolf, the Duke's demand turned out to be for an insidious reason as expected. He'd wanted to control the Tellus family and monopolize the trade route between the Maric Kingdom and the Andross Empire. Although the trade between the two wasn't the most abundant, it would still bring tons of gold if one family could control all of its tolls and tariffs. And the Tellus Viscounty was the sole territory that connected the two countries on the Maric Kingdom's part.

"We've arrived." Uncle Rudolf's words woke Gerald from his thoughts. They had arrived at the hall's doors. The doors were twice as high as a grown man and could fit five men standing side by side. Two guards stood on either side of the doors.

One of the guards looked at Gerald indifferently. "His grace, the Duke, said to let you in once you arrive," the guard said before pushing the doors open.

Once Gerald and Uncle Rudolf entered they heard the murmurs and a bit of the conversation they had interrupted.

"You're wrong. This could be very beneficial to us. If you think abou—" a voice trailed off. From its rough texture, Gerald recognized it to be the voice of the Duke who seemed to be talking to his steward. "Ah, Gerald! You've come," the Duke said, burying whatever he'd been saying before.

Gerald stepped forward and bowed slightly, followed by Uncle Rudolf who bowed deeply. "Duke Malfi," Gerald said. "I'm here to answer your calls."

The Duke seemed satisfied. Beside him, stood his steward, and on the other side his three sons. The younger two sneered while the oldest remained indifferent. Gerald looked over them. The oldest was nearest to the Duke with the largest build, wide shoulders and half a head taller than Gerald. Anyone seeing him would think him valiant. Gerald didn't know if he was or wasn't, but he knew that he was the most venomous of the brothers. A quiet schemer. At least the other two were just gruff idiots with swollen egos.

Next to him stood the second son of the Duke who was average in build and probably in everything else too. Gerald had never noticed anything interesting about him, except when he was trying to create trouble for him.

The youngest of the brothers was fat and red all over. That piece of meat was what his sister had to marry in the future. He was just short a few months from becoming 17 years old. He was the fattest and the dumbest. Gerald pitied his sister so much for that.

"Listen, Gerald," the Duke tried to feign as much sadness as he could, which worried Gerald. "We've received a letter from your family."

A letter? Gerald thought. With how sad he's trying to look, it can't be something good.

The Duke delivered on his worries right away. "I'm afraid your father and elder brother have passed."

Gerald froze in place. He wasn't sure what he had heard or what he was thinking. It was like time had stopped. He hadn't really lived with them for long, his father and elder brother, but he still cared for them. He still remembered his father trying to teach him to love marksmanship when he was five. He gave him a small bow to pull at. He had failed miserably at it. All memories of his elder brother were blurry, though. He swallowed through his dried throat."Ahem, wha—How?"

"From what's written here," the Duke waved a letter. "It was a sort of clash with some brigands." The sneer on the sons' faces got more intense right then. It was a great shame for a noble to be defeated by bandits. They were supposed to be rabble, hardly ever worth a hard fight.

"Both of them?" Gerald said, only now noticing that his eyes were wide at their utmost extent.

"Yes, I'm afraid," the Duke returned to his fake sadness. "The letter didn't divulge the details. But it has got your family seal. Your house's minister would never use the family seal without good reason. He's the only person who can if the lord isn't around."

Gerald nodded. The Duke handed the letter to one of the servants who passed it to Gerald. He skimmed over it. That was pretty much it. It mentioned the death of his father and brother and a request for 'Sir Gerald, the heir to the Viscounty' to be sent back.

The Duke cleared his throat to get Gerald's attention. "I'm saddened by your loss, Gerald. But You will have to carry the responsibilities of your family from now on." Gerald was sure he saw a hint of cunning in the Duke's eyes as he talked. He'd been around heaps of nobles long enough to know. "You have to prepare yourself," the Duke continued. "I will be sending you home tomorrow at first light."

Gerald remained silent for a moment, enough that the Duke looked worried that he was too shocked. "What about Lena?" he asked.

"Oh, your sister?" the Duke smiled. "Why, of course she will stay. Her wedding is in two years at most. There is no need for her to go back and forth. Too taxing for a young lady." The Duke's tone was now authoritative. It was clear he was just sending him alone back. The Duke wouldn't do without a guest of the Tellus family of some sort. "Now you should go and prepare," the Duke commanded, his face sterner than before.

"Yes, your grace," Gerald bowed, gritting his teeth discreetly.

Uncle Rudolf followed with another deep bow. He had been silent from beginning to end. A behavior that made him invisible in a noble's court, which was always his aim.

Gerald and Uncle Rudolf departed from the Lord's Hall. He was still grinding his teeth. He quickly returned to his sleeping chamber and locked the door. Only Uncle Rudolf was there with him, frowning deeply. It seemed that grief was creeping under his old face.

"Do you think it's true?" Gerald asked.

"I'm afraid so," Uncle Rudolf said, a pained look on his face. "The Duke wouldn't lie regarding something like this."

"They've done some similar things in the past," Gerald groaned. This time he looked troubled while recalling those memories. The Duke's cronies would allow him a chance to escape when he was younger, barely twelve. Then they'd catch him when he felt that he'd made it. They did it a few times until he realized that it was just them toying with him. It was them breaking him so that he'd never try it again. It was then that Uncle Rudolf told him about his secret, his warrior strength and his purpose. He also made sure he didn't fall into more of the Duke's traps.

"I doubt it," Uncle Rudolf shook his head. "The Duke would never risk his reputation by lying to you directly. And this," he ran his finger over the letter that Gerald had handed him. "This seems like the real seal of the family. It would be nearly impossible to forge it this well."

Gerald was silent. He thought of his father and his blurry brother. The world wasn't fair. He hardly knew them, and he wouldn't get the chance see them again either. He imagined them gone, dead; but all he could feel was coldness creeping on him. He knew he should be grieving right now but…

He sighed, a deep exasperated sigh. "Uncle Rudolf, should I be feeling . . . worse?" he asked, raising his eyes to stare at the white ceiling.  "I just don't know what I'm feeling exactly."

"Don't blame yourself," Uncle Rudolf consoled. "You have hardly known your father or your brother. It's only natural that you wouldn't cry yourself to sleep. Your father was a good man. A good lord. He tried his best, but the circumstances always stood against him. I'm sure that when you return to the Viscounty and see home, your feelings will come around."

Gerald nodded. "I should prepare. It's already dusk. I will have to be quick. And I should see Lena too. I wonder if they've told her yet." He hardly ever saw her. They kept them separated most of the time. It was so they couldn't form a united front or something. According to his Uncle Rudolf, it was so they couldn't support and console each other. That way they could break easier under the pressure and manipulation.

"Yes," the old man nodded. "We should get you ready as soon as possible. I'm sure you will see Lady Lena soon enough." Uncle Rudolf was a steward. He was never really supposed to call any noble with their bare name, but Gerald had insisted that he call him by his name only, at least in private.

Gerald took a deep breath and stood up. It was time to go back to the Maric Kingdom. It was time to go home.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The sun painted the wagons gold as it rose on the horizon. It was daybreak and Gerald was checking his horse and the few belongings he managed to keep on it. He and Uncle Rudolf were at the city gates, preparing to leave. He hadn't met his sister, Lena, yet and he wasn't surprised. They were always kept apart, and were to meet as little as possible. She was supposed to come and send him off with the Duke, though.

Gerald waited until Uncle Rudolf came within earshot and said, "will Lena be okay all alone?"

Uncle Rudolf smiled kindly. "Don't worry. My daughter is with her. She will make sure she isn't bullied too much," he said in a suppressed voice, trying not to alert the wagon handlers or the guards. "And the Duke would never allow her to be humiliated. It would harm him and his reputation more than it would harm her."

Gerald nodded. It sounded reasonable. Uncle Rudolf's daughter was Lena's maid and an Earth Warrior herself, which Gerald had found unbelievable when Uncle Rudolf had first told him. Apparently, the Warrior attribute Uncle Rudolf's family practiced was darkness. His daughter had somehow become an Earth warrior under the nose of the Duke and his men without anyone noticing. She had come with them when they'd first arrived, and she was as old as Gerald.

"You should focus on home and the Viscounty," Uncle Rudolf continued. "If you could rebuild and make a name for yourself and the house, you'd be able to negotiate with the Duke."

"Rebuild?" Gerald asked, bewildered. "How bad is it exactly?" He had only been six when he left. He didn't remember much save for the castle's walls, the keep, and his father's face.

Uncle Gerald sighed and shook his head. "The war had hit our house the worst, Gerald. And as far as I've heard, the recovery hasn't been going well. But I suppose that's something for you to see for yourself once we return.

Gerald nodded and was tightening his saddle when he heard a yell from behind.

"Gerald!"

He turned around to the sight of his sister coming down a luxury coach. The Duke did well to preserve his face by making sure she rode the best coach and wore the best clothes. Her hair was brownish black like Gerald's, and it reached quite a bit below her shoulders. She tried to run to him and almost tripped on her crimson dress. "You're really leaving," she said, panting. "Is it true, what they said about father and eldest brother?"

Gerald nodded with solemn look. He would have to take a good look at this bandit problem that took the life of his father. "I'm afraid so," he said. He gazed at Lena with a tender look. She was the only real family he had here, and he rarely met her. Sometimes they were the only support for each other here. Now she was going to be all alone. He felt guilty for it, but he had little choice. "You should take care of yourself," he continued. "I won't be around to take care of you anymore."

Lena lowered her head with a sad frown. He knew that she couldn't remember their father nor brother. She was only two when they left. It wasn't fair to her, nor to anyone in his family. He wished to changed that. No, he would change that. They had suffered enough. "Don't worry. I will be fine, and I have Aya with me. She can provide enough consolation," Lena laughed, a forced laugh, he could tell.

Gerald was about to tell her something when someone interrupted them with a cough. He hadn't noticed that the Duke was there too, riding his horse. The Duke had come with his entourage. His sons hadn't come, though. Gerald was grateful for that.

"Gerald, I trust you've prepared?" the Duke asked in his dignified voice. He had an average build, and a well-muscled body. He had had his share of battles, or so had Gerald heard.

"Yes. We're ready to depart," Gerald replied. It was going to be a long journey that would take almost a fortnight, especially considering that there was no proper road to the Tellus Viscounty, just tracks to follow. If there had been a decent gravel road, they could have reduced this journey to a short week.

"Very good. I wish you well on your journey. But first, let me introduce to you someone who will become a friend of yours," the Duke gestured behind him and a well-dressed man came out of his entourage. He was middle-aged and quite short, at least compared to Gerald who was of average height. "He is called Renard, and he was my aide before, but now he will become your minister," the Duke said in a joyful voice as if it was some happy announcement. He surely had a fake smile plastered all over his face.

Gerald's face almost changed when he heard the Duke. The Duke had never sent him someone who brought him any good. Gerald eyed this Renard. His face wasn't the kind that let you feel comfortable, and his eyes spoke of something being schemed. The Duke wasn't even trying to be discreet. This was a direct attempt at shoving his hands in the Tellus territory. "Your grace, I'm thankful for your concern about the management of the my territory. But I believe the Viscounty has a minister already."

The Duke laughed. "Oh, Gerald," he said. "Don't you know that all prominent nobles have a minister of the right and another of the left. It prevents corruption and also provides more of the much needed counsel.

Gerald was boiling below the surface. Laughable, he thought. He knows that only Kings and very powerful Dukes have that kind of arrangement. No petty Viscount would have two ministers to manage his meager income or his limited territory.

"Your grace," Gerald said. "I think—"

"Gerald," the Duke  interrupted him kindly, though the commanding tone couldn't be missed. "This is the help I'm providing you for the beginning of your rule over the Tellus basin. Would you refuse my help?"

Gerald found himself speechless. It was unwise to oppose the Duke now, while he was still in his territory, and even more unwise because his sister would be staying here. He noticed Uncle Rudolf subtly signaling for him not to resist. Gerald forced a smile and said, "of course not, your grace." He then turned to the Duke's aide and continued, "I welcome my new minister of the left."

Just more trouble for me to deal with when I return home. Not the best start.

The new minister, Renard, didn't look especially enthused by Gerald's words. He just nodded with an indifferent smile. He seemed not to hold Gerald in much regard from the very first day. And Gerald didn't find it at all surprising. So far, he had shown no lordly conduct at all. This Renard probably thought of him as a puppet. Time would tell, though. Time would tell.

"Alright," the Duke grinned. "It's time for you to start moving. No need to delay anymore."

Gerald nodded and looked to his sister who approached him and leapt into his embrace. "Come visit me," she whispered. "I will be patient, but I have to see you again." Her eyes spoke volumes of her predicament. She was stronger than he had expected. She didn't cry, probably so she wouldn't trouble him. But he knew in his heart that one of the greatest challenges in  his future was her. He had to find a way to free her, or at least guarantee her well-being.

"I will. We will meet again," he said with a sincere smile. "I promise."

ß--------------------------------------------------à

The sun was over their heads, shining with intensity as Gerald and Uncle Rudolf rode together, followed by Renard, the guards, and the rest of the convoy. It had been a week and they were half-way through their journey. So far, it had been uneventful and it led Gerald into deep thought about the territory that he would be seeing for the first time since he left.

"According to the letter, my father has passed away over 40 days ago," Gerald said in an uncertain tone. The letter wasn't exactly clear. Gerald could only think that whoever wrote it was too panic-stricken to arrange his words properly.

Uncle Rudolf nodded. "It would be two months by the time we reach the castle."

"How do you think it would be in the Viscounty now?"

Uncle Rudolf pondered for a moment then shook his head with a troubled look. "I'm afraid it would be anything but good. From what little I understood from the letter, your father's incident wasn't the first bandit problem, and probably not the last."

Gerald sighed. He didn't have the energy to complain anymore. He would do his best. He would give all the energy he could spare for the territory and see what he could do. As he thought about his coming predicament, he caught sight of a trail of people in the distance. They were walking in a large, spread out group that lacked any organization, and they were heading in the opposite direction of their convoy. It seemed that they weren't the only group either.

Upon a closer look, Gerald noticed their tattered clothes and disheveled looks. They were miserable, with every meaning the word carried. They looked malnourished and struggled to walk straight. "What … are they?" Gerald stammered, not realizing that he just asked what they were instead of who they were.

His reply came from behind, from the man who had ignored him for most of the journey so far, Renard. "Refugees," Renard said with an annoyed shake of his head.

"From the war to the far south?" Gerald widened his eyes. "But how could they get so far north. This is impossible."

"The ones you see are the ones who survived the journey," Renard said, not brothering to call him 'my lord'.  "They prey on the granaries of every territory they pass by, and are eventually kicked out by the nobles of those territories. I doubt they would find much luck here, either. No charity for them in the Andross empire. We only reward working people."

Something annoyed Gerald in his words. It was too condescending. It wasn't that Gerald felt too much for the refugees. It was out of his hands for now, but Renard spoke with too much contempt. It was obvious that these ones had no choice; otherwise, they wouldn't have walked a whole kingdom.

"We?" Gerald said, deciding that he should grab this chance to put him in his place. "Need I remind you, Renard, that you are now my minister? A Minister of the Tellus family of the Maric Kingdom?" Gerald twisted his waist and turned around while on his horse to glare at him.

Renard realized that he had made an obvious mistake. Even if Gerald was a puppet, saying such words publically was just stupid. "Oh, my apologies, your lordship," Renard hurriedly said. "A simple mistake. You would understand that I've lived most of my life in the Andross Empire. I shall endeavor to make the Maric Kingdom my home from now on."

At least the word 'lord' came out of your mouth for once, Gerald thought. Though I doubt you really meant it.

"It's fine," Gerald said graciously, waving him off. "Now tell me why no one hired them as soldiers or even to till the fields along their journey here."

"Of course," Renard said. "There are actually several reasons, your lordship. The first being a lack of a major war in the Maric Kingdom. No one wants so many soldiers, and considering that their loyalty isn't guaranteed because they come from another kingdom, it is only natural that they wouldn't be recruited in territorial armies."

Gerald nodded. The war to the south was getting too heated. The Mali Kingdom and the Neejer Kingdom were fighting it out as always, but this time, it seemed that they were both suffering. These two were to the south of the Maric Kingdom, and it was safe to say that their state of continuous war didn't bode well for the Maric Kingdom, for they were its guarantee against the invasion of the Andross Empire. It was because they threatened to interfere 14 years ago that the Andross Empire was forced to sign a treaty with the Maric Kingdom. And it was because of them that the Andross Empire didn't try to invade again.

It was very simple actually. The Andross Empire, the Maric Kingdom, the Neejer Kingdom, and the Mali Kingdom together formed the southwestern subcontinent of the Asura continent. They were isolated from the mainland of the Asura mainland by the Wild Plains to the east. It made them safe from invasion from the mainland. It had its price, though. Tribal raids from the Wild plains every few years.

The Andross Empire was as large as any two of the other kingdoms combined. Separating it from the Mali and Neejer Kingdoms was the Maric Kingdom. Naturally, the two kingdoms that always warred against each others weren't stupid. If the Maric Kingdom fell to the Andross Empire then they would be easy pickings, so they supported the Maric Kingdom. It was akin to a shield for them.

Gerald was brought out of his thoughts by the words of Renard. "As for other sorts of work," Renard said. "That is hard for them to find. They are simply too many, as you can see. Any good craftsmen are picked up by the first noble they come across, but the rest of the rabble hardly find similar treatment. That is aside from the criminals and bandits that hide and sprout among them. For any lord, they are a horde of locusts and a plague of crime."

Gerald watched the stream of people heading north while he headed south. He only saw the beginning of this stream but not the end. The sun was already starting to lean towards the west, and the heat would be gone soon. He sighed. He wondered how many refugees would be in the family territory. This whole stream had to pass by the Tellus territory to get here.

I wonder if I can make use of them somehow. And he spent the rest of the journey on that thought.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Gerald watched the endless mountain peaks extending into the horizon on both sides. The convoy was almost past the northern pass of the Tellus basin. The northern pass was the wider of two passes that led into the Tellus territory. It connected the Tellus territory to the Andross Empire. Its average width was enough for over a thousand men to stand side by side. Too wide for a fortress to clog.

They were already in the Tellus territory, but they hadn't reached Ard castle yet. It would take them a day or two to get there.

As they got past the pass and left it far behind, Uncle Rudolf, riding his horse, approached him. They rode next to each other for a while until Uncle Rudolf talked discreetly. "Gerald, you are foreign to your home. You need to be careful for the first few days. It's unknown whether everyone will accept you as their lord even though you're the true heir. It will be troublesome if you were to lose the loyalty of your subordinates early on, or even lose them altogether."

Gerald nodded." I'll choose my words and actions carefully until I settle in. Don't worry, Uncle Rudolf."

"You will also need to keep an eye out for anyone who might try to use the turmoil of the house to fulfill their ambitions," Uncle Rudolf warned. "I know Arthur well. He has been the minister of the family since you were born. I'm sure he is still as loyal as he was back then. But I'm not sure who leads the army now, and I'm not sure if Arthur himself has reliable subordinates. He can't carry the house on his own, and we can't tell what he has been dealing with for the past two months."

"Haaah," Gerald sighed. "This isn't going to be easy."

"You shouldn't expect it to be," Uncle Rudolf smiled.

"I still have you though, Uncle Rudolf," Gerald said. "I can trust you."

"Yes, you can."

"Huh?" Gerald turned to the east, squinting his eyes. He had caught movement in the corner of his eyes. He was sure of it.

"You've noticed them already?" Uncle Rudolf chuckled.

"Who are they?" Gerald said as he scanned the distant hills. There were people lurking about, moving along with the convoy, but not approaching.

"Bandits. We're probably in their claimed territory. They're keeping an eye on us."

Gerald sighed again, exasperated. "I wonder why they aren't just attacking."

Uncle Rudolf smirked and pointed to the banners flying over the convoy. Gerald looked up to see the flags of the Malfi and Tellus family. Uncle Rudolf was pointing at House Malfi's flag. "They can afford to offend the Tellus family, but not the Malfis. They aren't that stupid."

"Do you think they are the ones that my father fought and . . ."

"No," Uncle Rudolf said. "The ones you're looking for are most likely lying low right now. They just killed a noble after all. It's a wonder the whole kingdom hasn't come down upon them. I guess it's true that the Royal Capital has weakened even more."

Gerald shook his head. "I suppose we have one more bandit crew to deal with," Gerald said, nodding his head towards the ones creeping along with the convoy.

ß---------------------------------------------------à

It took two days for the walls of Ard to appear on the visible horizon. While Gerald was working hard to recognize the outline of the distant wall, the convoy was passing by a village, from which a group of peasants were pouring out while watching in awe as the convoy rolled towards the castle.

It was here that Gerald saw the first road in the Tellus basin. It was a mud road leading to the castle from the village, and it wasn't even maintained well. The pace of the convoy hardly increased after treading on it. In fact, some of the wagons were getting stuck in the mud and being pulled out by the guards every now and then.

As the walls got larger and larger in his view, Gerald saw the people waiting to receive him at the gates. They were led by a well-dressed man who looked to be in his fifties. Gerald guessed that he was Arthur, the minister. On his right, stood a middle-aged man in full plate armor, looking dignified and solemn.

I guess that's whoever is leading the army.

On Arthur's left, stood a group of people in mixed attires of civil and military fashion. Gerald couldn't be bothered to guess the specialty of every one of them.

The convoy soon arrived at the gates. As Gerald's horse stopped, the group of men standing at the gates all bowed slightly. "We welcome the young Sir," they said in unison. Gerald realized that they weren't calling him 'Viscount'. It was probably because he hadn't officially been declared the ruler of the house yet.

This is good news. It means I don't have a group of flatterers in my court.

"Thank you," he said, dismounting his horse.

After he got used to the feeling of his legs, he approached the well-dressed leading man. "I'm assuming you're Arthur."

"Indeed, I am. I hope to serve you well in the future, Sir Gerald."

Gerald turned his eyes to the blonde, middle-aged man in plate armor. As he searched the man's face for any signs to read, the man searched Gerald's face as well. It seemed that Gerald needed to earn the trust of his subordinates and not just the other way around.

"This is Sir Robard, the head knight in command of the army," Arthur said, signaling the blonde Robard with his eyes.

Robard then put his right hand on his chest, where his heart should be, and bowed slightly. "This Robard is a knight of the Tellus family, knighted by your noble father. I hope to serve you better than I have served him."

Gerald detected a hint of guilt in Robard's voice. It wasn't a surprise. His father and brother had died while the head knight of the family was still standing. Though there must have been a good reason at the time, otherwise Robard wouldn't have been standing here. Gerald would get to the bottom of that later, though.

"Ahem," Arthur cleared his throat and gestured to his left. "On my left, stand the civil servants and the military officers of the family."

The group on Arthur's left bowed in unison. "We hope to serve the young lord well."

It took a while for the pleasantries to end. Uncle Rudolf was welcomed by Arthur with a warm hug, and the group soon opened a path for Gerald and his convoy to move through.

Gerald wasn't planning to tell Arthur about Renard, the new minister, just yet. He didn't want to freeze the atmosphere so early when they were just at the entrance of the castle.

As he walked steadily towards the gate, something caught his eye. "Wait." Everyone stopped as they heard him. "Them?" he asked with a raised brow while pointing at the distance along the wall. The gate they were about to enter was closer to one corner of the castle than the other. Around the closer corner, outside the castle, there appeared to be a group of disheveled people. They were peering over every now and then in curiosity. A group of kids kept peeking at Gerald and his convoy and giggling only to be pulled back by wary parents. This bunch gave Gerald a somewhat familiar feeling.

The obvious answer to his question came from Arthur at the same time it came from his memory. "Refugees," the old minister said with a sigh. "I will make sure we discuss that after the ceremony tomorrow. It's a tragedy, to be honest. A tragedy that is putting too much pressure on the house and its granaries."

Gerald nodded, remembering a little something that he had thought about along the journey.

Hopefully.

"Let's move then," Gerald said with a genial smile. Then he started walking ahead of the procession of officials and wagons.

The first sight to greet him in the castle was the muddy main street, though it seemed to be recently taken care of compared to others, as was proven by the other branching streets that had puddles and uneven pits all over. It seemed that this was as much as Arthur could do for his arrival. Deep inside, he begun to have an eerie feeling about the family's treasury.

He was pleasantly surprised, though, to find that most of the people living in the castle weren't as starved as he had imagined them to be. They looked well-fed, considering the circumstances. They were ill-clothed, however, and a lot of them seemed to be far from having any coin or work. Many young men littered the side streets, looking idle and dispirited. They peered at the passing convoy from time to time but didn't have much of a reaction to its arrival.

The houses in the castle seemed old and barely standing. This was a poor place. But at least people weren't starving, Gerald consoled himself. This meant the granaries Arthur talked about weren't running out of grain. It was something to keep him hoping.

Amidst all this dilapidation and poverty, only one redeeming construct appeared in the distance. The keep. It was built on a rising hill in the middle of the castle. Used to build it was the valuable white stone in contrast to the rough black granite used for the walls of the castle. It was surrounded with some vegetation and trees that rose with it over the hill, and the tips of its towers were painted azure.

Gerald remembered the memories deeply buried within him. He was ripped away from home. From this. He was dragged away, looking back at this keep and at its white and azure towers.

It didn't take them long to reach the keep. The mild sun was still about. Gerald stepped into the keep first, ignoring the assortment of raggedy servants and maids. There weren't many of them, though. It was to be expected. All signs of a drying treasury were hopping and jumping in his welcome today.

The sun was setting by the time he had gotten himself reacquainted with the keep. It took him a few tours in its halls, grounds, and gardens to get familiar with it again. It was then that Arthur alerted him.

"It would be best if the young lord goes through the first part of the ceremony today before tomorrow. It would cure the restlessness in the house," the old minister said.

"Restlessness?" Gerald looked back at Arthur, dumbfounded. "Why would there be any trouble if I'm the only heir?"

"Ahem," Arthur seemed to be a little bit embarrassed by the collective glares of both Gerald and Uncle Rudolf. He seemed hesitant to say his next words. "I'm ashamed to say that your cousins have been scurrying for your seat as the head of the family."

"Cousins?" Gerald marveled. "What claim do they have for my seat?" He didn't remember much of his cousins. But then again, he didn't remember much of anything. But to think that they used his absence to start trouble and covet his seat. It was peculiar. Especially considering that they would sooner have taels of gold dropping on them from the sky than be able to legitimately inherit the Viscounty while there was a living heir.

"They were using the fact that you have been away from the Viscounty for most of your childhood as an excuse," Arthur said. "They said that you had been raised far from home, and you wouldn't know what the territory needs. They even…" he trailed off.

Arthur didn't seem timid to Gerald, but he seemed to be waiting for a reaction of some kind. If Gerald were to explode with anger upon hearing the first part of his speech, then he probably wouldn't add oil to the fire. But now that Gerald was waiting for the last part, it seemed that he was preparing to tell it.

"They even doubted your loyalty to the family, saying that you grew up as the Duke's godson, which I rebuked. Everyone knew that you were just a ward to the Duke and forever a Tellus, no matter how long you stayed with the Duke. They were warping reality and spreading these lies among officials and your subjects alike."

A trace of fury finally appeared on Gerald's face. Greed had already worked its wonders on the house and its branching households. His cousins were already vying for his place, though that had probably come to an end with his arrival. And this was an almost bankrupt Viscounty they were vying for. The glamour of power was too attractive to ignore, even with all the troubles the territory would bring its ruler.

Gerald closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was one more thing to deal with after being named Viscount. He had to go through the ceremony first, then worry about everything else.

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The gigantic door creaked open as the dust swirled around it. Gerald was standing in front of the Ancestral Chambers, stunned. He'd never been here before. Apparently, he was too young to be brought here before leaving the territory, and it wouldn't have been wise to show him something so important before sending him off to the family's enemies.

He was supposed to pay respects to his ancestors here before being named Viscount. It was tradition, and honestly, he was more than a little curious about these chambers.

He slowly stepped into the large hall, followed only by Arthur and Uncle Rudolf and no one else. Luckily, old Arthur had the sense to not mention the matter in front of everyone else, and so the annoying Renard didn't have a chance to snoop around this matter. Gerald didn't think that he would have to wait long for the Duke's rat to start sniffing over everything, though.

The hall was neither too wide nor too narrow. The first thing Gerald saw when he stepped inside was the large statue at the other end of the hall. It was a standing stone statue of a man with a sword in his hands. The sword was planted in the ground while the man rested his hands on its pommel. The standard warrior stance when being painted. It was easy to execute for a whole day without getting sore arms.

The peculiar thing about the statue, though, was its face. It was without one. There was almost nothing there. It was like the craftsman who carved the statue left a blur over the features of whoever it depicted.

Surprisingly, it was Uncle Rudolf's voice that explained the peculiarity and not Arthur's. "That is the Great Ancestor, Gerald. Your father was supposed to bring you here to pay your respects when you became sixteen years of age. The Great Ancestor isn't anybody in particular. It is all of your predecessors. Every head of the family had his blood buried below that statue."

"How do you know all this, Uncle Rudolf?" Gerald raised an eyebrow as he asked.

The old man scratched at this grey hair slightly before smiling with what seemed like apology. "I'm afraid I wasn't completely clear with you, Gerald, before all this. I didn't know you'd be heir to the family," he said with a sigh.

Gerald narrowed his eyes. More secrets? Uncle Rudolf was awfully full of them, starting from his Warrior strength all the way to this. "Are you going to tell me now?" Gerald cocked his head.

Uncle Rudolf nodded. "I'm sure that you have already figured out that I'm not just your steward, yes?"

Gerald nodded. He really wouldn't deserve any explanations if he was stupid enough not to see it. Uncle Rudolf was much more than that to him anyway. He was a protector, a teacher, and a man of great counsel.

"My household has been sworn to serve your family for generations," Uncle Rudolf started. "It's better to say that there would have been none of us if it weren't for your ancestor, though. We were saved by one of your ancestors. And our bloodline is sworn to always be in your family's service"

"So you and all your descendants will have to…" Gerald trailed off. It was kind of sad. He would be feeling sorry for himself if he was Uncle Rudolf.

"Yes. But we don't just do it for a long gone debt. We do it because we are part of the house. I was raised by your grandfather, and he treated me and my father before me like family. And I'm sure you will treat my daughter like family too. We don't begrudge you our loyalty; otherwise, we would have left long ago."

Gerald nodded. It didn’t make sense that they would be forced into this. He was thinking too much. Nobody would do something like this without wanting to do it, no matter how indebted they were. "Thanks, Uncle Rudolf. I appreciate it."

Uncle Rudolf smiled gently and nodded. "Now," he said. "You should observe these paintings of your predecessors." The old man gestured towards the walls on both sides.

Gerald was surprised to find a collection of paintings, that had escaped his notice, crowding the walls for space. He didn't look into the details of any painting, but most of them seemed to be about some epic encounter or battle. "What are these exactly?" he asked.

"These are the most important moments each of your predecessors have been through. Hard-fought battles, treaties that took decades to come into being, and all sorts of achievements that are worthy of being remembered," the old man explained.

Gerald walked to the nearest one on his left. He was surprised at the sight. This one was quite different compared to the raging battles and epic poses of the other paintings. It was of a man who looked wiser than any other Gerald had seen. The man was pointing at the air as if he was giving a speech and under his other hand was a parchment. The patchment didn't leave much to the imagination. It was the standard parchment of treaty that nobles used. It did look like an older kind, though. As if it was some original form that the newer ones were inspired from. Around the wise-looking man in the painting, stood a group of people, carrying axes and wearing decent hides.

Uncle Rudolf was quick to explain. "This is your first ancestor. He was a sort of diplomat. He helped the first king of Maric unite the local lords and form the kingdom. He was the one who earned your family the noble title and its first territory."

Gerald widened his eyes in surprise. He'd never heard his story. So his family's noble status was actually the result of diplomacy not war. That was rare. Nobility wasn't an easy stage to step on. Even the lowest dung of nobility, the court nobles, weren't canonized too often. It usually involved great heroics or shining successes in a war. It meant that his first ancestor was a shrewd diplomat and courtier.

Gerald soon moved to the next painting. It showed the back of an armored man, riding a warhorse while being followed by a group of knights. He was standing on what seemed like a hill, looking into the crowded horizon. The horizon he was looking into was packed full with riders and runners hardly with any clothes. They were obviously not friendly. "Wild tribes," Gerald muttered with widened eyes.

Uncle Rudolf stepped beside him and nodded in response. "Yes. This is your fourth ancestor. Before the Tellus basin was handed to your family as a Viscounty, the house was a small barony on the eastern edge of the Maric Kingdom. Tribal raids were common. But this was one of the greatest of them all. Over one hundred thousand tribals charged the borders armed with iron and hunger. There was a great drought at the time. It was called the Tribal Tide. It happened in several places in the subcontinent, and it's popular with scholars of history now. You could read about it in the keep's library. Your fourth ancestor united with the other lords on the eastern front and won this battle under the lead of the king."

"It probably devastated the territory, though," Arthur chimed in. These were his first words since he came in with them. Gerald was starting to forget he was there.

Gerald gave the painting one last look. The fourth ancestor, huh? It seemed the paintings weren't arranged in the expected order. If Gerald had to guess, they were arranged according to importance.

The third painting in line was one of splendid art. Gerald found it more glorious in its contents, although they were simpler. For some reason, this painting just resonated with something within him. It was true. Truer than most.

He eyed it carefully. It was of a man, or rather the back of a man, who was holding a sword and standing ready with an air of calm. In front of him were three other men who seemed to be his opponents, each holding their own weapon and ready to lunge at the lone warrior. This bit of combat seemed to have taken place on a windy plain as depicted by the flying bits of shrubbery that crowded the surroundings of the combatants.

"Ah. The greatest Tellus yet. The first and last Battlemaster of the Tellus family. Your seventh ancestor," Uncle Rudolf sighed. "I believe he is the most important of your ancestors, though the order of paintings doesn't agree with me. Your seventh ancestor was a very capable fighter who even neared the threshold of a Battlesaint. He was known across the kingdom, and he earned your family the elevation of title, status, and territory. If it weren't for him, the house would still be a small barony. This painting depicts his battle with three enemy Battlemasters. He came out of this battle unscathed and killed two of his opponents. This and the great battle that followed carved his name in the annals of the Maric Kingdom and spread his name far and wide."

"A Battlemaster? I think my father had once mentioned something about this before I left the territory," Gerald mused. "I suppose this is something to be proud of. I also think that my first ancestor was a shrewd man. There are a lot of Battlemasters out there but hardly any of them become landed nobles. My first ancestor chose diplomacy and traversed the ruthless intrigue of the royal court to earn his title. He laid the first foundation of the house. Without him, there wouldn't be a House Tellus."

Arthur nodded to one side, and Uncle Rudolf seemed to be hesitating whether to agree or not. Meanwhile, Gerald caught a metallic glint from the corner of his eye and turned towards it. Whatever caught his eye was at the other end of the hall, near the statue. He squinted and finally saw it clearly.

It was a steel door. The walls of the Ancestral Chambers were black unlike most of the keep, and this steel door was black as well. It hardly stood out. And it seemed to be somewhat hidden behind the statue. "What's that?" Gerald asked, nodding at it.

"Oh, that would be the inheritance hall," Uncle Rudolf answered. "You can go there after paying respects to your Great Ancestor. It contains some secrets that outsiders should never know. Even we have never been inside."

"Huh?" Gerald was surprised. "You don't know what's inside?"

Both Arthur and Uncle Rudolf looked somewhat embarrassed and didn't meet his eye when he looked at them. "Actually," this time Arthur spoke up. "Your father told us what's inside. We have been keeping this knowledge strictly to ourselves, though." Uncle Rudolf nodded in agreement.

"Are you planning to tell me what's behind that door then?" Gerald asked in a more commanding tone this time.

"It would be better for you to see them yourself," Uncle Rudolf said. "It's nothing complicated. And our knowledge is quite limited, as was your father's. If matters were more clear, then the house could have made better use of what's behind that door."

"I see," Gerald said. "Well, let's move on to the paying respects part then."

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A cool waft of air hit Gerald's face as the steel door opened. Gerald's legs had become sore from the prolonged kneeling ritual he had gone through in front of the statue of the Great Ancestor. Having respect for your ancestors was good, he believed, but self-torture wasn't the best way to show it.

The good news, however, was that he could now enter the inheritance hall. After he pushed the steel door open, he saw the dark hall. It was mostly empty except for a stone table in the middle.

Gerald stepped in then looked behind him, only to find that both Arthur and Uncle Rudolf were standing outside instead of stepping through the door. He stopped and threw Uncle Rudolf a questioning glance.

"The lord's subordinates aren't allowed to enter the inheritance hall without permission," Uncle Rudolf said. "And they rarely ever get such permission."

Gerald sighed. "You two can come in. My father has trusted you with more, I'm sure."

"Thank you, my lord," they spoke in unison.

Gerald smiled and moved towards the stone table. On it, there were three items accompanied by three slabs of white stone. Those three slabs had words carved onto them, which Gerald assumed were the descriptions of the three items.

The first item to attract his attention was the sword on the far left. He stepped closer, and wondered at the magnificent golden hilt and the glaring sharp blade. "Is this…"

"Your seventh ancestor's sword. Made of Highsteel," Uncle Rudolf remarked with reverence.

Gerald's eyes widened in surprised. "So it's true Highsteel. I didn't know we had something so valuable." He picked the sword up with both his hands carefully then he observed its every angle. The blade was as sharp as newly crafted steel swords if not sharper, in spite of its age. Then he proceeded to do the one thing you couldn't do with normal steel. He placed it on his knee and pushed on its two ends, as if to break it. The blade bent to his will like the rod of a bow, though it didn't show any signs of weakening. It was said that Highsteel was unbreakable due its hardiness and malleability. The edge of its blade wouldn't need to be sharpened after it was forged, and it would never dull no matter how many battles it went through. He had only heard about it. Even House Malfi only had two of these. One with the Guardian Knight of their family, the Battlemaster. And the other with the Duke himself.

After admiring the sword, he carefully placed it back down. Then he looked down to its white slab. Written there were simple but clear words: Highsteel sword of the seventh head of House Tellus. To be passed down to the next Battlemaster of the family.

"I see. That's why it was left here for all this time," Gerald chuckled. "I suppose I won't be using it either."

"Perhaps you will become a Battlemaster yourself in the future, my lord," Arthur said with apparent optimism. "Then you'd be the first to use it after the Seventh."

"Quite the dream there, Arthur," Gerald said. "But I don't think it's going to be soon even if it happens. What a pity. It has to sit here unused."

Geralt moved over to the next item which was a bluish silver plate. It had a few carvings on its edges, but nothing special. It looked like a common silver plate except for the tinge of blue that reflected off its surface. He looked down at its white slab to read the carved words: Blue Meteorite. To be passed down to those who recognize it.

"Well, I certainly don’t," Gerald snorted. "I suppose I will see what this Blue Meteorite metal is later."

Then he moved on to the next item. This one was quite peculiar. It was a cube of black metal that looked impure but strong. Written under it were the words: He who knows what's inside may take it.

"And how am I supposed to know that?" Gerald said sarcastically. Then he shook his head. "I suppose it's all about knowing here. Let's leave. There is nothing for me to inherit here, unfortunately." He eyed the Highsteel sword with longing.

Arthur smiled as Gerald turned towards him. "In due time, my lord. I'm sure there is something for you to have one day. And although this isn't a good time to inherit something, it is a good time to be named Viscount of the territory."

Gerald smiled back. "Good. I can't wait to bear all the weight. Let's go."

ß-----------------------------------------------------------à

The rough wood rubbed against Gasper's ragged leather armor as the wagon rocked back and forth. The wagon was heading towards the forest in the east of the Tellus basin, carrying Gasper and his unsightly companions to their poor targets.

Most of his companions glared at him menacingly from time to time. Nothing had changed. He was still the new boy. Or that's what they called him anyway, though he had seen his twenty first winter already. They, however, didn't care. For them, he was the new recruit that looked too delicate to be a bandit. He was a good one to push around for fun or for what little coin he had.

For his captain, he was the new lad who wasn't trustworthy yet. And Gasper wouldn't really blame the man, considering that he had served the Viscount before being forcefully recruited into this rabble. They didn't know that, though.

Some genius he was. His father had been calling him a genius since he had become an Earth Warrior. His father was an old merchant who had spent his life going through ups and downs, hoping to raise Gasper as best as he could. He couldn't be blamed for entrusting the Viscount with his son so early.

Gasper knew what the old man had wanted. He'd wanted him to become a knight. He had wanted him to move their family's name higher in the world. The Viscount died, though, and all the men he took with him died too. Except Gasper.

Surviving weeks in the mountains while feeding on moss and herbs, Gasper had lived through being hunted down like a dog for a whole month. Those who killed the Viscount didn't want to leave anyone alive, and they did their best to track him down. But he'd never stopped moving. His feet had taken him over rocky ridges and steep mountains. He'd made it as far as the east of the territory before he was spotted by the eastern bandits. 'The Black Dog crew', they called themselves. Well, it was only natural considering that their boss was called Black Dog, and each of their lieutenants were another color of dog. Insane crew is what he called them secretly. Not that it would change that they controlled half of the east of the Tellus basin. They had an iron fist and only one rival in the east of Tellus the territory.

Gasper snorted. Genius, huh, he thought. More of a jinx.

Everyone had died except for him. And it was his first time riding with the Viscount. It was easy to see who had brought the bad luck, even to the blindest of men. A black cloud might as well have floated over him.

It had been a month since he was recruited in the Black Dog crew. They had given him two choices when they found him, join or die. He'd chosen what any sane man would, hoping that he would bring them a black cloud too. If they all died, then he could ride home a free man, or a condemned one. It didn't happen, though. And now he was going to hunt down a bunch the poor sods who failed to pay Black Dog's taxes.

These taxes were the norm around the bandit hegemonies. After each bandit crew had pillaged and burned down enough hamlets and farmsteads in the territory, they would settle down and collect their due taxes from the peasants in their surrounding land. Of course 'taxes' meant all the peasants had except the grass around their home. They'd take women, food, and any coin you had. If you didn't have enough to satisfy them, then you'd be made an example of. And the ones that had run into the forest today didn't want to be made examples of, it seemed.

"We're almost there, lads," Red Dog said. He was one of Black Dog's lieutenants. A shrewd man with a merciless countenance. Gasper had seen him gut a captive because he lied about a few coins before. "Get yourselves ready to hunt those dirty fools down."

Some grunts of agreement responded to him and the bandits started stretching their arms and legs. Some prepared their bows and ragged spears. Some, who fared better, prepared their short swords.

Gasper, however, prepared his restless heart. Today was the day he would escape and run back to Ard. No matter what, he had to go back. His father probably thought he was dead, but he wasn't. And he wouldn't stay with these rotting bandits any longer. He had to go back.

The fleeing peasants had given him the best opportunity. They had run into the forest. And what better place for him to lose Red Dog and his hated lot. His injuries had healed a few days ago. And his strength as a rank 5 Earth Warrior had come back. But he wouldn't risk going against Red Dog and twenty other bandits on his own, even if he was a Warrior. He was good with a sword but he wasn't a fool.

Their wagon was coming down the north towards the forest. He would lose them within it, then come out of its west and return to Ard. Hopefully, they would think he got lost in the woods. But that would require him to not kill anyone, which was the hard part. Red Dog would never let him move alone through the forest.

I'll handle it when the time comes.

He sighed and passed his hand over the leather chest piece. He'd never seen worse armor in his life. They had taken the iron armor his father had paid good coin for and given him this garbage. Luckily, they hadn't taken his sword. He patted it with his hand for assurance. It was about the only thing he would be bringing back with him to Ard. Nothing—and no one—he left with would return to Ard with him except this sword.

"I hope father is fine," he muttered under his breath.

The wagon came to a stop and brought him out of his thoughts.

"Alright," Red Dog yelled as he dismounted his horse. "Everyone form up into groups of four. Those fools ran all the way from the hamlet to the forest. Yellow Dog lost'em here. Let's prove to him and his cunts that we're the best trackers in the crew."

Gasper snorted. None of these imbeciles knew how to track a buffalo down, let alone people in the forest. They were more likely to spend their day trying to find their way out of the woods.

"We'll spread out," Red Dog said as the bandits grouped up into five separate units. "You," he pointed at Gasper. "With me."

Gasper nodded begrudgingly. "Yes, boss." Red Dog had been his worst nightmare since he'd joined the crew. He'd encouraged others to make Gasper's life harder and did it himself too. He'd been one of the few who distrusted him for the imaginary story he'd told the bandits when they first recruited him. His shiny iron armor had stood out, and so they'd questioned him. And he'd said that he was with a caravan that got attacked before he fled.

It was a good story. But some people weren't so easy to fool. Red Dog, however, had taken it upon himself to whip Gasper into shape and interrogate him whenever he had the time. It had been hard. And Gasper wished he had the chance to cut the bastard's head off. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to be today, if ever.

Gasper grouped up with Red Dog's unit and they walked into the forest warily. The runners were just peasants. But you never knew if they had a ranger with them. No one could hunt a ranger in the forest. Rangers weren't the best combatants. But they could kill any man short of a Sky Warrior if he was foolish enough to follow them into a wood. They lived on hunting and spent half their life in the forest.

The sunny sky turned into a shady green as they walked into the numerous trees, and the thick woods barred the bandits' vision. Gasper followed Red Dog with three others and they kept their vigilance while one of them walked ahead, looking for tracks.

It wasn't until they got considerably deeper into the forest that the leading man yelled out. "We've got something," he said.

They ran to him and found him crouching over a puddle of water and mud. "And what the hell is this supposed to be," Red Dog grumbled.

"This is recent," the tracker said while moving the mud around. "Look."

"Ah, is that blood?" Red Dog asked with a grin.

"Yes," the tracker said. "Someone was injured and they washed that person's wounds here."

So this rabble did have someone who knows how to track, Gasper thought. House Tellus has given these bandits too much time to grow.

Trackers weren't common. They were either rare skilled hunters or they worked for someone of high esteem as generously paid trackers. For bandits to recruit one, they had to have too much freedom and reach.

"Good," Red Dog kept his grin. "Can you track them further?"

"Yes," the tracker answered.

"But we've gone too deep into the forest," Red Dog warned. "It's almost been half a day. Let's be careful. South of this forest is the Big Mountain crew's territory. We don't want to come across them. They might get suspicious if they see us this far south."

"I doubt they'd walk into the forest willingly, though. Nobody does," one of the bandits said with snort.

"Just shut your trap and listen to my commands," Red Dog glared at him.

"Aye," the bandit lowered his head.

"Let's go. Lead us to them," Red Dog told the tracker.

The latter nodded and complied.

They spent some more time following the tracker, who would sometimes stop at inconspicuous trees and other times at noticeable remnants of blood that had been hidden by the fleeing peasants. He would observe them and move on.

After a while, though, he stopped. "The tracks have stopped here."

Red Dog looked around then said, "And? How do we find them?"

"We search," the tracker said with a shrug. "Someone has deliberately hidden the tracks here. This took time. It means they have stopped somewhere nearby."

"Good," Red Dog smirked. "Let's split up and find our prey. I've run out of patience. I want to rip them apart myself. If you find them, don't kill them right away."

Gasper ended up with another bandit as the group split up and moved in two directions.

The bandit that accompanied Gasper kept an eye on him most of the time, and always let Gasper lead. It was obvious he didn't trust Gasper with his back.

Damned Red Dog.

Red Dog hadn't only been onto him from the beginning. He'd also told his men to keep a close eye on Gasper. None of them trusted him so far. It was laughable. A bunch of brigands thinking about trust. They'd sooner stab each other in the back than lose some coin.

The two of them crept forward through the trees. Even Gasper was cautious. The last thing he wanted after all he'd been through was to be killed by a farmer. That would be quite the ironic story. One that a minstrel would love to tell.

Suddenly, a yell came from ahead of them, "Kill the fuckers!"

Then Gasper saw over a dozen peasants running towards him and his companion. The peasants were holding pitchforks, knives, sharpened shafts, and anything that could be used to kill a man.

"Damn it," Gasper swore. Then he froze, enlightened. This is it.

It had been only a moment but the bandit to his side already looked panicked. "By the fucking seven seas. What do we do now, run?"

"We won't make it," Gasper wove his next lie. Fear made men susceptible to lies. He had to use this chance. "We have to split up. I'll run to the west. You to the east."

The bandit looked at him dubiously. But Gasper could still see the panic in his eyes. "Fine," the bandit finally yielded. But then he pushed Gasper towards the charging peasants and ran in the opposite direction.

Gasper stumbled and struggled to balance himself. "Cursed bastard," he growled. Then he started running west as fast as he could.

Being an Earth Warrior, he could outrun the peasants and outbreath them. Soon he'd increased the distance between his pursuers and himself until their voices drowned in the silence of the woods. But he hadn't expected a group of them to have circled around before charging him and the other bandit before. When he'd run a considerable distance he found his way blocked by an old man with a sword. Beside the man was a young, sturdy boy who held a shaft sharpened into a spear. Gasper could hear the yells of other peasants coming from different directions. They'd be upon him soon. And he'd noticed the ones in front of him too late. The old man had leapt towards him and closed the distance already.

Gasper stared at the old man for a moment. "You know how to handle your sword and feet," Gasper said. "And you have a slight limp. A former soldier?"

The old man spat at his feet. "And what has that got to do with you? You just have to die here, you rotten bastard."

"I'm a soldier too," gasper said, panting. "I served under the late Viscount."

"Late Viscount? The Viscount never died, you lying shit," the old man said, stepping closer and delivering a strike.

Gasper deflected it and chose not to return it with a strike of his own. "I'm not a bandit. Truly."

The old man followed with a flurry of slashes and thrusts while talking. "You think I don't recognize your rotten smell and your ugly mugs when I see you? Go fuck a pig."

Gasper blocked most of the strikes and evaded the rest. Before he could speak again, he found the boy with the wooden spear closing in on his side. Damn it. Can't reason with them now.

He stepped to the side, away from the old man. Then he kicked the boy who used the shaft to block. The improvised spear broke in half and the boy flew a yard back and fell down. The old man crossed the step between them and tried to stab him while he was distracted. But Gasper turned unexpectedly and parried his strike. He followed it with a riposte towards the old man's gut which the old man stumbled to block only to find that it had changed direction and struck his hand. The strike connected and the old man dropped his sword and fell on his ass, his hand bleeding.

Gasper stepped closer and put the sword to the fallen man's neck. "You will believe me now." Then he moved the sword away and sheathed it.

The old man gasped for breath. "You don't look like a soldier of the Viscount, even if Ard hasn't been doing well recently," the old man said, looking him up and down. His tone was much better than the beginning, though.

Gasper looked down at his ragged leathers. It was a shirt of leather patched together and could hardly stop a decent sword strike before breaking down. "This is what the bandits gave me when I joined. They asked me to join or die. I joined. And now I'm escaping."

The old man groaned. "Not the most honorable choice, but I wouldn't blame you. No one wants to die. That's why we're here," the old man snorted.

"Do you have a ranger among you?" Gasper asked hopefully. As he spoke, more peasants arrived, brandishing their improvised weapons.

"Hold it," the old man yelled at his people. Then he turned to Gasper. "No. Where in the hells would we find a ranger? We came here seeking our luck. If we live, we live. If we don't, we don't."

Gasper stretched his hand and helped the man up. Then he handed him his dropped sword. "Come with me," he said. "To Ard. You can survive there." He knew Ard was already crowded. But leaving them to die here wasn't a choice. He'd already lost enough honor letting his lord die and spending a month as a brigand.

The old man nodded. "Might as well. We have no place here anymore," he said, eyeing the other villagers. "Go get the others," he told the armed peasants. "We move west before dark."

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Gerald finally took the host's seat in the Lord's hall of Ard Keep. It was the third day since his arrival. He'd spend the first day in the ancestral chambers and being officially named the Viscount of the Tellus territory. The second day had been a minor celebration for his arrival and inheritance of the title.

Today was the day of judgment for him, though. It was the day he truly carried the weight. In the hall with him were most of his aides; Arthur accompanied by several officials carrying stacks of parchments, Robard in his plate armor still, Renard standing proud to his left, and Uncle Rudolf standing closely to his right.

"Alright, don't be shy, Arthur. I'm ready for the brunt of it. How's our treasury?" Gerald said with a hint of irony.

Arthur wore his most helpless expression. Though Gerald could tell that the man was far beyond that. He'd already accepted it. "Yes, Viscount," Arthur said. "Our yearly income stands at 40 thousand gold coins. While our expenditure on the army alone is 35 thousand. The house spends another 10 thousand gold as general upkeep for the territory and the castle."

"So just a shortage of 5 thousand," Gerald nodded. The upkeep of the house was quite low, which explained the rundown roads outside of the castle and the hopeless streets within it. "That doesn't sound too bad." Then he looked at his old minister who met his eye with a defeated expression.

"And the treasury now contains only 8 thousand gold coins," Arthur continued with an exasperated sigh.

"What?!" Gerald almost jumped out of his seat. "How is that possible? The house can only sustain itself for another year?"

Arthur nodded with his head low.

Gerald rubbed his forehead and managed to calm himself down. "Tell me, Arthur, is the house in debt?"

Arthur raised his head and shook it enthusiastically. "No, my lord," he said. "Your father sold most of the family's property in the Royal Capital and also sold a mine in the southern pass, all so that he wouldn't indebt the house." Arthur then gave Renard an unsightly stare. He'd probably already understood that the short man was related to their enemies to the north. The Duke had offered loans to Gerald's father several times, which the former Viscount strived to avoid.

Gerald nodded and there was a moment of silence which was interrupted by the last person Gerald wanted speaking, Renard.

"Your lordship," Renard said bowing his back slightly, which Gerald took as flattery before the swindle. "I'm sure Duke Malfi wouldn't hesitate to loan the Tellus family some gold to weather—"

"And who are you to advise the Viscount on matters of the house?" Arthur interrupted him with a hint of fury and was about to continue when he, too, was interrupted by Gerald.

"Arthur," Gerald said unwillingly. "Renard will be my minister of the left. And you my minister of the right." It was quite abrupt. Gerald meant it that way. He didn't want his court to dwell on the matter. He'd already done that during his journey from the Duke's territory.

"But, your lordship, the territory can—"

"Arthur! My word is final," Gerald said decisively. "The house will receive no loans, though," he said as he stared down Renard. "Now, back to the matters of the house."

Arthur looked at Gerald dubiously for a moment, then seemed to regain his composure. "Yes, my lord. Uhm… there is some good news that I haven't reported yet."

"Go ahead then."

"Our granaries are full," Arthur said with a forced smile. It seemed that Gerald's decision was still weighing on him. "In fact, the reason the income of the house has weakened is because of the lack of trade. The bandits have all but eliminated trade from the south. The merchants that came from the south both paid tolls for passage to the north and paid good coin for our grain. Now that there are no merchants, the grain sits in our granaries without much use. A good portion is used to feed the idle in the castle, especially those who've escaped the clutches of the bandits from the outlying villages and hamlets. We've also allocated a small portion of the house's reserves for the refugees who stay around the outskirts of the castle."

"How many people does the territory have?" Gerald asked.

"If we only count the subjects that are under the house's direct authority, then . . ." Arthur exchanged some parchments with his aides.

"Wait a moment. What do you mean by under our direct authority?" Gerald perked up.

This time Robard, the head knight and also the only knight, stepped forward. Gerald had heard that there was another knight that perished with his father and brother in the unfortunate battle. "Your lordship," the middle-aged knight said, his face solemn and eyes slightly ashamed. "The bandits infest the territory from every direction."

"That's right," Gerald said, nodding. "I've seen the supposed 'hegemons' of the north on my way here. Tell me about them."

Robard nodded. "The bandits divide themselves into seven powers. Each major direction has two bandit groups that control it except the south. The south is controlled by the largest bandit group of them all. It is headed by a former mercenary named Robben Luwin. They call themselves 'the Silver crew'."

"Former mercenary?" Gerald raised a brow. "Do we have many mercenaries in the Tellus basin?"

"In the past, we did, my lord," Robard replied. "When the merchants still visited the territory, the mercenaries thrived. Right now, only two bands remain. Robben Luwin and his mercenaries-turned-bandits, and a mercenary band called the Red Rain band. It is worth mentioning that the Red Rain band and the Robben Luwin are at odds. There has been a lasting enmity between them. But the Silver crew has established itself well in the south, so the Red Rain band fails to do much to it. There have been a few skirmishes but nothing more."

Gerald found himself deep in thought. He had come up with a few methods for handling the bandits on his way home. But it turned out that the lands were more infested with them than he'd expected. It was no wonder his father struggled and failed to rid the basin from them. "How many men does each bandit crew have?" he asked Robard.

The head knight cleared his throat then answered, "Each of the bandit crews has around a thousand men. That is only if we consider the six crews to the north, east, and west. The Silver crew, however, has over two thousand men. Unfortunately, that's not the only issue. The Silver crew, as I've mentioned before, is mostly made of former mercenaries. Their ranks are bolstered by many ranked Warriors which makes them both superior in quantity and quality in comparison to the other crews."

"And we have . . . ?" Gerald cocked his head, looking at Robard.

"Five thousand men, my lord. One thousand are the garrison of the castle, and the other four thousand are a standing army ready to receive your commands."

"I'm guessing quality isn't on our side here," Gerald chuckled. "Go ahead, tell me."

Robard looked a little embarrassed before saying, "we have two Sky Warriors, including me, and we have a total of 50 Earth Warriors at your command."

Gerald was genuinely surprised. They had two Sky Warriors? Maybe Robard had counted Uncle Rudolf. But did he even know that Uncle Rudolf was a Sky Warrior? He decided to ask. "Who's the other Sky Warrior aside from you?"

"It's old Han, the commander of the garrison. You've met him, my lord, during the celebration yesterday," Robard explained.

"Oh, yes. That's true," Gerald remembered an old man with grey hair and a sturdy constitution that he'd met during the humble feast they had the day before. He'd come to congratulate him but stayed to himself most of the time. It had seemed that the old man wasn't fond of talking.

Gerald was already starting to balance his plans as he sat and his aides waited. He then coughed a little then spoke. "Alright. I need to think. Arthur, send me all that you have about the population and the refugees under the house's authority, and also the expected population of the outlying villages that aren't under our control. Send the parchments to my study. We'll have another meeting tomorrow after I've been through these details. This assembly is over."

ß--------------------------------------------------à

Gasper walked ahead of the procession of peasants that was heading to Ard. Beside him was the old man who he'd fought in the forest. The sun was mild above them on their second day of walking. Gasper had expected to make it back to Ard much earlier. But the stragglers of this procession delayed the short journey. Now he expected that they'd make it into the range of Ard castle by nightfall.

"Is it true?" the old man said. "What you said about the Viscount."

Gasper's eyes dropped to his feet in defeat and he nodded. Then he turned to the old man and asked, "Did you serve under him?"

"I did. For ten years," the old man said. "He was a good man. How did it happen?"

"Fighting bandits," Gasper's mood turned sour with every question. It was like someone was poking his wounds. Every question awakened a memory of that battle; of his failure.

The old man seemed to notice and eyed Gasper thoughtfully for a moment. "You were there?" the old man asked.

"Yes," Gasper raised his head and met the old man's eyes. "How did you know?"

The old man wore a sad smile. "Because," he pointed at Gasper's face. "That's exactly how I looked after my squad was wiped out in battle."

Gasper was surprised for a moment then he snorted. "We do seem to share the same miseries," he said as he looked over the straggling peasants behind them.

"That we do," the old man chuckled. "You'll learn to live with it."

Before Gasper could answer, there was a yell from behind. Then there were collective shouts and screams from the villagers. Gasper looked towards the yelling peasants and found them pointing at the horizon behind them. "Dogs be damned. He's come," Gasper ran to the back of the procession.

He saw three horses racing towards them from afar. It seemed that the bandit who pushed him towards the peasants the day before had informed Red Dog of their findings. They probably didn't know that he was with the peasants now. But they would soon. Each horse had two men on it. The bandits had made use of the two horses that pulled their wagon along with Red Dog's horse. That made six of them riding towards the procession.

They were charging towards Gasper's twenty peasants. Of which, almost ten were women and children. The other ten were a mix of old and young men with improvised weapons and no knowledge of combat.

The old man came beside him and eyed the incoming riders. "And what do we do now?" he gritted his teeth. "We don't want them riding us down or we'll be done for."

Gasper eyed the old man's injured sword hand. "Will you be able to fight with that, old man?"

"I will manage," the old man grumbled. Then he eyed the trembling peasants. "The problem are these poor fellows who followed me all the way out here. I can't let them die after all this."

"They won't," Gasper said decisively. "Form up!" he yelled. "All those with pitchforks and spears, form a line here. Quickly."

There was a noise of movement among the hesitating peasants until the old man glowered at them, then they started moving according to Gasper's commands. About nine men, old and young, formed into a line of long weapons at the back of the procession. "You take our left flank, old man," Gasper said. "I will take the right flank. Just slow them down and don't die. I'll get to you once I'm done with my side."

The riders were almost upon them when Gasper got to his position. The women and children were told to run ahead so that they wouldn't get mixed up in the fighting.

Apparently, the riders hadn't expected the peasants to form a defensive line, because they almost charged into the wooden spears of the trembling villagers. However, Gasper saw two of the horses swerve around the defensive line, one headed for his side and the other headed towards the old man's side. He caught sight of Red Dog on the horse headed for the old man.

The third horse rider, however, looked to be having a hard time controlling the horse. He was too late swerving his horse, and then there was a moment of pale realization on his face before the horse charged into the line of peasants with a crash. The horse was skewered and the peasants blown back. The two riders on the horse were thrown into the thick of the peasants. That was the last Gasper saw of them before he had to handle his own problems.

The horse charging towards him had two bandits, one in the back brandishing a spear and the other brandishing a short sword. Gasper churned the Warrior energy within him in preparation for a short battle. He trotted towards the incoming horse. When the riders were almost upon him, he crouched and buried his feet in the ground, then he swung his sword parallel to the ground as the rider's weapons missed him. His sword cleaved halfway through the horse's front legs, and his shoulders painfully received the brunt of the horse's slow charge.

The horse dived into the ground as the bandits were thrown off. Gasper sped towards the one with the short sword, while a young peasant ran towards the bandit with the spear who was still trying to get his bearings.

When Gasper got to the bandit, the latter had already balanced his rusty short sword and was prepared for him. "It's you! I knew Red Dog was right about you. Come to your death, traitor trash," the bandit glowered.

"A dead man shouldn't talk," Gasper said, as he leapt with a slash. He put all his strength into the swing. He had to finish this fight quickly and help the others.

The bandit blocked with his short sword. There was a Clang as the swords met, and the bandit was pushed back, his sword arm blown wide. It took a moment for him to notice that his rusty short sword had cracked from the collision. But Gasper wouldn't waste that moment. He stepped closer to the bandit and delivered a heavy kick to the his stomach.

The bandit bent forward and vomited, his sword dropping. "Damn it. This strength. You're a Warrior?"

"At least you're not a complete fool," Gasper snorted as he delivered a slash to the bandit's neck. The latter fell to the ground, his blood pouring and his body motionless.

Gasper turned towards the other bandit on this side. He was squaring off against the peasant. They both held spears. The peasant's was more of a sharpened stake and he was surely having the worst of the fight.

Gasper quickly joined their fight. He approached the tall bandit who leveled his spear towards him, apparently recognizing the threat Gasper was. The bandit eyed his fallen comrade behind Gasper for a moment then his eyes turned serious.

This one didn't speak as Gasper charged towards him. The bandit ignored the confused peasant and thrust his spear towards Gasper. The spearhead whizzed past Gasper's side as he sidestepped it. The bandit tried to perform a sweep and cut Gasper with the spear's blade. But Gasper stepped closer to the spear and grabbed the shaft. He raised his sword as he traced the shaft back to its holder. Then he delivered a strike with all he had towards the bandit's wrist.

There was a scream and splash of blood as the hand abandoned its wrist. The bandit fell on his ass, screaming his throat out and holding his handless wrist. He didn't have the time to scream too much before Gasper stepped forward and delivered the silencing strike.

Gasper turned towards the rest of the peasants. He heard the shouts and desperate yells that he'd ignored during his combat. In the middle, it seemed that one of the two riders who'd charged into the peasants' line had died. The other had somehow slipped out of the villagers' encirclement and was being pursued by most of them as he parried a thrust here and blocked a strike there. Gasper let the peasants handle that one as he shot a look towards the left flank where Red Dog charged with the other bandit.

Red Dog and his partner had been dismounted, but not without price, evident from the two peasant bodies lying beside the kneeling horse. One bandit was hardly keeping himself alive against three peasants who surrounded him, while Red dog was facing off against the old man. The old man was taking a step back at every clash.

Gasper had covered half the distance there when the old man fell back and Red Dog prepared to move in and deliver the final strike. "By the seven seas, old man. Can't you hold for a few moments," Gasper muttered. He then picked up a fallen spear, stretched his arm back and threw it with all he had towards Red Dog.

It buried itself about a yard away from Red Dog who was startled by the flying spear.

"Damn it," Gasper grumbled as he sped towards them. "I was never good at throwing a javelin, let alone a spear."

Gasper's spear had achieved its purpose, however, as Red Dog ignored the fallen old man and turned towards him. "Ah, look who it is," Red Dog laughed. "The god damned Gasper."

Gasper snorted. "Look who it is," he said. "The man I wish to gut the most."

Red Dog's face turned from smiling to vicious as he leveled his long sword towards Gasper. "You betrayed us, pretty boy," he said in a thick voice. "You have no loyalty. And you'll pay for it."

Gasper circled the bandit lieutenant carefully as he spoke. "I prefer not to have brigands preach to me about loyalty and honor."

Red Dog chuckled as he delivered a quick sweep which Gasper shrugged off with his sword. "And were you not a brigand yourself, pretty boy? Ashamed of it now, are ye?"

"Enough talk," Gasper leaped forward with a thrust and Red Dog sidestepped it. The Bandit lieutenant then stretched a leg forward and crouched, trying to deliver a low sweep.

Chance

Gasper used the fact that he'd been underestimated and focused his Warrior strength on his legs then leapt forward against the sweep which he flew over. He landed an inch from the surprised bandit lieutenant who scrambled to get back his footing. Gasper let him get back up and then crouched himself, delivering a low sweep that wasn't unlike Red Dog's, aside from the fact that Gasper's connected perfectly.

Red Dog yelled out as the blade dug into his right knee then he lost his balance again and tilted. Gasper sprung up and moved in on his reeling opponent, swinging his sword at full breadth and slashing Red Dog's defenseless gut. The sword dug through Red Dog's skin and dipped its tip inside his gut, unsealing it from side to side.

The red-haired bandit grabbed his abdomen but failed to prevent his guts from falling out. Then he knelt down, unbelieving as he watched his bloody innards abandoning his body with wide eyes.

Gasper swept the field with his eyes. The other two bandits had fallen to the numerous peasants, though it hadn't come without its sacrifices. He then looked back at the dying bandit lieutenant. "I've been waiting to do that," he gestured towards Red Dog's fallen guts. Red Dog had made his life worse than hell in the bandit camp. He'd threatened to cut Gasper's guts open on several occasions, which led to Gasper wishing to have this opportunity for while. "I didn't think it would be so soon," Gasper said.

He then met Red Dog's eyes who tried feebly to glare back at him. Gasper's face was ice and his eyes merciless. "You think I'm going to end your misery?" he said, his voice without emotion. "I don't think so. I've always thought you should take it slow." Then he stepped away from the dying dog, and trotted back to the mostly injured peasants.

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The dust swirled in the middle of the training grounds as the two combatants faced off. The day was still young, and the sun had risen to a considerable height. Gerald was holding his training sword while Robard leveled his own towards him. They circled each other for a few moments before Gerald gave up on his head knight trying anything and attacked first.

He opened with a step forward and a quick slash which his opponent blocked steadily. Robard was a rank 3 Sky Warrior. Just a rank below Gerald's Uncle Rudolf. He seemed to be holding himself back, which Gerald both appreciated and despised. He appreciated the fact that he wasn't being embarrassed too much. But he hated the fact that his head knight never attacked. He'd been defending since they'd begun.

"You could try using that thing you're holding. It swings nice," Gerald chuckled.

It took Robard a moment of looking at his hand then the training sword to grasp the jest. He eyed Gerald and smiled. "I'm sorry, my lord. I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay. Just don't make it too easy for me," Gerald said as he braced himself.

Robard nodded then lunged at Gerald with godly speed. Gerald could swear that he saw a snake-like blur instead of a man. He prepared his training sword to block at the expected angle, and all he heard was the clash of metal, then he found himself pushed several steps back.

I guess I know now why he didn't attack before. He's not good at holding back.

As Gerald steadied himself and prepared to continue their spar, a voice interrupted them.

"My lord." It was Arthur's voice that interrupted his thoughts. The old minister walked into the training grounds, stalked by the short Renard who walked with swagger. From Arthur's ugly face, Gerald guessed that the short man had achieved some sort of victory in one of their verbal battles.

"Oh, Arthur!" Gerald smiled. "We've been waiting for you."

"My apologies, your lordship. I've been busy with the task you assigned me," Arthur said. "I can say that we've succeeded, though."

"That quickly?" Gerald said as he gestured with his sword for Robard to continue their spar. "Are there so few of them?" The day before, Gerald had asked Arthur to inform him of the population of the territory. Arthur had brought him the patchments that showed Ard currently having 13 thousand residents. While the surrounding farmlands, villages, and hamlets had about 15 thousand subjects. However, the old minister hadn't brought Gerald any numbers related to the population of the refugees. Gerald had decided that such knowledge was very important for his future plans. So he'd asked Arthur to handle it. He hadn't expected it to be done in a single day, though.

"It was very simple, actually. Most of the refugees are homeless, and they crowd the outskirts of the castle. It was very easy to perform a headcount with the help of the garrison. It took a hundred men of old Han's garrison to get through all the refugees. And considering that they had no homes, it was easy just counting them without having to go from door to door." Arthur stood proud holding a couple of parchments as he explained. He'd simplified the matter, but it was obvious that he found it pleasant proving his competence so quickly.

"Good," Gerald said, parrying a thrust from Robard and returning it with a slash of his own. "How many are there?"

"Too many, my lord," Arthur said, while Renard stood oddly silent beside him. It felt like he was holding back a sneer for some reason. "There are fifteen thousand refugees near Ard. We don't know how many lie outside our area of influence. Most of the latter join the bandits or continue farther north."

Gerald stiffened from his sparring posture. He realized that Renard was probably holding back a sneer for real. He'd admonished him for his refugee comment on their way to Ard. But now he had a refugee problem of his own. It was quite surprising, after all. The refugee population was higher than the population of the whole castle of Ard. And they were probably increasing as they spoke.

There are way too many of them. My plans don't need that many, Gerald thought. And the only advantage of Ard is its grain. If we run out of that too, then we'll be in trouble.

He spent a few moments contemplating as Robard relaxed his fighting posture too. "Well, since we're short on fighting men. Why don't we recruit some more?" Gerald finally said. "Expanding the army is a wise choice now with all these bandits roaming about and setting camps. Let's recrui—"

"Your lordship, please reconsider," Renard abandoned his silence in favor of interrupting Gerald. "The Duke had agreed with your father that the army will not expand any further."

Gerald was visibly surprised, then he eyed Robard and Arthur who avoided his gaze and looked at the ground. It was true. He'd underestimated the quagmire his father was in. His lands were infested with bandits, and his enemy wouldn't allow him to expand his army. That was aside from the fact that there was a lack of quality among Robard's men. Less than 60 Warriors in the whole army. Considering that a bandit crew like the one in the south was a former mercenary company, their quality of combatants would be much higher than Gerald's army.

What helplessness! The feeling made his anger well up. He couldn't see a solution on the horizon. Trying to wipe out the bandits with his current army was just suicide. It wouldn't be a surprise if they united against him when he starts targeting them one by one. And by then, it would be his army under the threat of being wiped out.

He swallowed his anger and gritted his teeth. He had to keep reminding himself that Lena was still the Duke's guest in Malfi City. "Alright. I suppose we can delay this matter," Gerald gave up. "But," he turned to the short minister. "Renard, I understand that you're the Duke's mouthpiece. However, if you ever interrupt my speech again, you'll have no one but yourself to blame," He stared the short man down and his gaze carried unspoken promises of pain.

Renard met his gaze for just a moment then lowered his head submissively and smiled. "Please forgive me, your lordship. I've stepped out of line. I just care too much for the relation between the Tellus and Malfi families to stay harmonious."

"Then watch your step," Gerald said with an icy voice. He then turned his attention to his sparring partner. "Robard, I've seen the equipment of the men. I can only say that it's below expectation. Their leather armor is hardly of any quality, and their swords are made of the worst iron I've seen."

Robard shook his head with a wry smile. "My lord," he said. "I'm afraid we've been living through this problem for years. Our only source of iron is a mine to the southeast. Our supply is considered constant from there, since bandits aren't fond of iron ore. But the quality of the ore is terrible to say the least. And to add to that, our smith is only a Journeyman. We have no master smith in the castle to compensate for the quality of the iron."

Gerald inhaled. Master smiths weren't common, but most decent nobles had one serving them. They could forge steel, though not in large quantities. But their greatest merit was their capability of making the best of the iron you gave them. They could churn out decent metal equipment in numbers, which was good for any army. A Journeyman was just below a Master and above an apprentice. "Is he close to becoming a Master at least?"

Robard shook his head again. "I'm afraid not, my lord. He's already 40 and is still a Journeyman. It would be farfetched to expect more of him." The head knight cleared his throat and continued, "as for the armors. The hides we get are the worst out there. We get them from the flatlands' wild animals and some of our cattle. The best hides are in the forests. And those are mostly surrounded by bandits."

"Bandits bandits bandits," Gerald growled. "Nothing is left in peace in their wake."

Gerald's aides kept their silence until his angry fit passed. Then Robard spoke again. "There is a hidden talent, however," he said. "I believe I should inform you of him."

Gerald regained his composure and awaited the first good news of the day.

"He is called Kale," Robard continued. "He is a young bowyer. He has crafted excellent long bows for the army. Not only that, but he's also succeeded in crafting his first crossbow a few months ago."

Gerald raised his brows. "A crossbow?" he said in disbelief. Bows were one thing. But putting together the mechanism of a crossbow and crafting its small, intricate parts wasn't something any woodworker could achieve. "How young is he?"

"He is twenty-five years of age, my lord," Robard said as he watched the astonished face of Gerald.

"That's . . ." Gerald paused. "We must visit him tomorrow. At least we have something to work with now."

"Actually," Robard continued. "He's been requesting for an increase of the funds provided for his works. He says that he has some ideas he'd like to try."

"Did you grant it?" Gerald turned to Arthur.

The old minister looked embarrassed then smile weakly. "My lord. You know the condition of the treasury," he said. "I couldn't grant such a request with our meager reserves. Specially, not without the lord's consent."

Gerald waved his hand. "I'm not blaming you," he said. "Tomorrow we'll visit this Kale. I'll see then if we should provide these funds he requests in spite of our condition."

"Yes, my lord," Robard and Arthur said in unison.

"Alright," Gerald said as he gestured for Arthur and Renard. "You two can leave us now."

The two of them nodded and retreated from the grounds.

Robard prepared his sword and took his posture, but Gerald waved him off.

"I actually wanted to talk to you alone, not spar again," Gerald sighed.

"What is it, my lord?" Robard tilted his head, puzzled. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Gerald shook his head. "I want you to arrange for two important things. And I'd prefer for no one to know about them." Gerald didn't want the news to leak to Renard and then to the Duke. He didn't want all of his actions observed.

"Command me, my lord." Robard straightened up.

"I want you to move all the Earth Warriors who are 30 years old or younger from the regular army into a separate corps," Gerald explained.

Robard looked puzzled again but nodded. "By your command. But who will lead that corps, my lord?"

"It will be me, for now," Gerald said. "I don't see anyone qualified to do it yet, and you're too busy commanding the regular army. Anyway, that was only the first thing I wanted you to do."

Robard looked expectant again and listened.

"I want you," Gerald continued, "to contact the Red Rain band."

"The mercenaries?" Robard asked, surprised.

"Yes," Gerald nodded. "The sooner the better. It's about time we started doing something about those bandits. You said the Red Rain band was an enemy of Robben Luwin, the leader of the Silver crew to the south. We should benefit off their enmity."

"Yes, my lord. I will depart and begin following your commands right away," Robard saluted and left after confirming his orders.

The rest of the day Gerald spent reading through the family's records, and checking the branching households. His cousins, the ones that tried to take his place, hadn't attended the celebration of his inheritance of the title. They hadn't shown their faces yet. And Gerald didn't like that he didn't tie up that loose end. He couldn't take too drastic an action or he'd risk turmoil for the already unstable house. But he couldn't just leave them to their quiet schemes either.

And so, he spent most of the day until nightfall and even after that in his study. Mostly, reading parchments about the territory or reading more records of the house's history. He'd hoped specifically to find something about the items in the Inheritance Hall. But he found no such knowledge in the records.

Gerald bade farewell to the aging day and went to sleep after a fruitless night in his study. It would be a new day tomorrow, and new things awaiting him to consider.

However, his sleep wasn't so peaceful. He was woken up in the middle of the night by a servant's voice. "My lord? My lord?" the servant called from outside of his sleeping chamber.

Gerald stumbled out of bed, unfocused. "What is it? Has something happened?"

"It's his excellency Arthur, my lord. He's here for you. He says it's urgent."

"Alright," Gerald balanced himself. "Let him in, quickly."

It was only a few moments before Arthur came in with Robard unexpectedly in tow. "My lord. Important news. One of the men that accompanied your father to his last battle is back."

Gerald froze and his eyes widened. "I thought they all died," he said, nearly yelling it.

"We thought so, my lord," Robard said. "We found most of the bodies, but some were still missing. We just assumed that their bodies were lost in the mountains. We didn't hold much hope of anyone surviving, though."

"Who is it that survived? The knight that accompanied my father?"

Robard shook his head. "It's a young man. He's the son of a former prominent merchant who lives here in Ard. And he's a Warrior. His name is Gasper."

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Gerald accompanied Robard and Arthur to a chamber on the other side of the keep. They had brought Gasper there secretly, and had him wait until Gerald could see him. According to what they said. He'd come with over a dozen peasants who'd escaped from the eastern region of the basin in fear of the bandits. A good number of those peasants had been injured, which meant that their journey hadn't been a peaceful one.

On their way, Uncle Rudolf joined them, and they soon arrived to the chamber they kept Gasper in. Robard advanced and opened the door, then Gerald stepped in.

He found a haggard young man with a charcoal black hair and sharp features. The young man, whose name was Gasper, was apparently exhausted. He leaned on the wall as he sat on the ground, eyes closed. He didn't even notice them entering.

"Gasper!" Robard whispered sharply.

"Sir," the young man stood up instantly. He ran his eyes over everyone until they stopped at Gerald. He hesitated for a moment before saying, "Viscount?" and bowing slightly.

Gerald broke into a smile. "Yes," he said. It seemed that Arthur and Robard had already informed Gasper about him. "You're Gasper. You were with my father and brother?"

Gasper stood up and tried to straighten his ragged attire. His leather rags were tattered, and his hair was a mess. He soon gave up on fixing himself and met Gerald's eyes with shame. "Yes. I was there. I failed to protect the lord and his son. Please deliver me the punishment I deserve, my lord."

Gerald shook his head. "I don't think it was your fault," he said. "In fact, I don't even know what happened that day. All I know is that they found the remains of all the men that left with my father. Tell me what happened that day."

Gasper didn't lose his defeated look but took a deep breath and spoke anyway. "The Visc—former Viscount had led us to chase down the bandits that raided a close hamlet. By the time we got there, however, they were gone. The lord was furious. That was the closest those brigands had ever been to Ard. He swore that he wouldn't let them escape. We found clear tracks to the south, and the lord commanded us to pursue them."

"Did it lead to the Silver crew, the bandits to the south?" Gerald questioned solemnly.

"No," Gasper shook his head. "The tracks soon took us to the southeast. We rode as fast as we could. It took a us a day to catch sight of them. But before we could catch up with them, they entered the mountains. As you might know, my lord, there are several passages leading into the depths and heights of the mountains in the southeast. They can only be found inside the Tellus basin. Some of my fallen brothers in arms had suspected that these bandits were too familiar with the passages, but the lord insisted on pursuing. We did as he commanded. We spent half a day in the mountains, tracking them. But when it was dusk, they descended upon us. It seemed that our suspicions were true. It was an ambush. We had followed them to where we shouldn't have."

"How many were there?" Gerald asked.

"Not too many. The lord had led us, 500 men, into the mountains. The bandits had even less than us. But their equipment was of good quality. Some of them were even wearing fine mail. The ragged arms and armors of bandits we expected weren't there. They had prepared for us. They came from every direction. Everywhere I looked, there would be enemies. Archers rained our ranks with arrows from higher ridges. Spearmen clogged our path forward, and heavily armed men appeared out of nowhere behind us. The pass we were treading wasn't wide enough for our ranks to exert their utmost potential. And as if that wasn't enough, they had two Sky Warriors and several Earth Warriors. They came from everywhere. Your lordship's late brother was besieged by one Sky Warrior, while the other one fought Sir Dirn, you father's knight." Gasper paused and panted slightly, as if the memories somehow tired him. Gerald saw a hint of wetness in the young Warrior's eyes. He didn't see grief, though, only guilt and shame. "It didn't take long for my squad to be surrounded. I fought off an Earth Warrior while my brothers fell one by one. When I finally succeeded in chasing my opponent away, an arrow buried itself in my shoulder." Gasper pushed down the leathers he wore and showed a deep scar. "The last things I saw were your brother falling to the Sky Warrior and a spear descending from the sky and going through your father. Our ranks were utterly broken, and I knew there was no hope. So I . . ."

"You fled," Robard said. "Didn't you?"

Gasper hung his head low and muttered to himself, and Gerald could see the wetness in his eyes intensifying.

"Did you make sure that the lord was dead?" Robard continued. "You could have—"

"Enough," Gerald stopped him. "It wasn't his fault. If anything, his decision wasn't unwise. There was no hope there." Then he turned back to the young man who seemed to be of the same age as himself. "Continue. What did you do next? Did you find anything about these bandits?"

Gasper shook his head. "I was injured. I ran and ran. They hunted me down for weeks, and I had to traverse the mountain paths that I've never seen before. I was lost in the mountains for a month. The arrow injury got worse. And I went through a strong fever. Eventually, even my Warrior strength faded. It was after the fever subsided that I found my way down the mountains." He stopped and seemed to be recalling a memory, or perhaps trying to forget it. Gerald wasn't sure. "I was met with another group of bandits when I descended into the flat lands," Gasper continued. Then his shame visibly weighed heavier on his face. He didn't raise his eyes once as he spoke his next words, and his silent sobbing didn't escape Gerald's notice. It occurred to Gerald that perhaps this survivor wasn't as he'd imagined him. Perhaps he was just a lucky but broken young man who somehow lived. "My Warrior strength hadn't returned," he continued. "There were many of them, and they gave me a choice."

Robard flinched. "You didn—"

But Gerald raised his hand to stop him. "Go on," he nodded.

"I would either join them or die," Gasper said, kneeling down as he spoke. "I had lived through the battle and being hunted down in the mountains, and I didn't want to die, my lord. Forgive me."

"And you spent the last month in their company, yes?" Gerald spoke.

Gasper nodded. "I've shamed myself and lost all honor. I deserve any judgment that you pass, my lord. Anything. I will suffer through it without sound or complaint."

Gerald took a deep breath. "Did you murder any innocents on their behalf?" Gerald asked.

Gasper shook his head, raising his head and meeting Gerald's eyes. The latter could see sincerity in his eyes. He could have lied several times in his story. But he told it truthfully. He told it all. There was no reason for him to lie now. "They didn't trust me enough to take me on any of their raids," Gasper said. "The first time I left their camp was when they wanted to hunt down those peasants that arrived with me. I decided to escape that day. My Warrior strength had mostly recovered. And it was the best chance I had, since we had to enter the forest."

"Then you met those peasants?" Gerald said.

"Yes," Gasper nodded. "We decided to head back to Ard together."

"You could have come alone. It would have been easier and faster for you," Gerald stared down at him, and Gasper met his eye. "But you didn't. From your condition," he eyed Gasper's attire, "I'm assuming you were attacked on your way back."

Gasper nodded fervently. Then he told Gerald about the attack they suffered by the mounted bandits on their way back. He told him of the three horses that carried six armed bandits. The bandit lieutenant, Red Dog, that came himself to ride down the peasants, and the peasants who fell while fighting those bandits.

"I know I don't deserve to be in your service, my lord," Gasper said calmly. His fit was over, and he had somewhat calmed down. Gerald could see a firm readiness for whatever fate may come in the young Warrior's eyes.

"I never said that," Gerald laughed. "You're still in my service."

"My lord," Robard yelled. "This can't be. It's . . ."

No, this is perfect, Gerald thought. The missing piece I've been hoping for has fallen upon me from the sky. Perhaps everything will fall into place after all.

"Get up," Gerald told Gasper. "There is yet a chance for you to redeem yourself. But the fate of the soldier hasn't abandoned you yet. You'll have to see more blood."

Gasper stood up slowly. "Command me, my lord," he bowed.

"You'll rest for the night. But tomorrow, you'll begin making use of the many refugees on the outskirts of Ard," Gerald commanded.

"Yes, my lord," Gasper nodded. "But how will I make use of them?"

"Why, of course you'll recruit them. As many of them as you can," Gerald said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Recruit them, my lord?" Gasper still looked bewildered. "For the army?"

Gerald laughed heartily. "No, I wouldn't need you if it were for that. You'll recruit them for your crew. Your bandit crew."

Gasper stood agape for a moment. Arthur, Robard, and even Uncle Rudolf turned their heads to Gerald questioningly. It was as if everyone in the chamber was waiting for some sort of explanation.

"If I had to exterminate rats, I wouldn't chase them around my home like a fool," Gerald explained. "I would poison them. It's about time we poisoned the bandits. I've been here for only a few days, and I've already had enough of them. Let's start the preparation for an extermination." Then he turned to his side and eyed his aides. "Keep quiet about this," he told them solemnly. "Uncle Rudolf, you will accompany him in this recruitment. But you'll disguise yourself. Leading a bandit crew needs an iron first, and one Earth Warrior isn't enough." Gerald had been thinking how to make use of Uncle Rudolf's strength as a Sky Warrior, but he still didn't want his strength to be disclosed to the Duke. It was always good to have something up your sleeve, even if it was for no reason. If Uncle Rudolf could accompany Gasper and use his strength to affirm the latter's hold on the crew he was going to recruit, then that would be the ideal situation.

"I will do as you command, my lord," Gasper bowed again.

"When you recruit some of the refugees, it will be easy to distinguish those who joined you due to need and those who've always waited to rob and kill," Gerald explained. "I want you to keep an eye on both. I will send you Uncle Rudolf tomorrow with more commands for you to follow. He will act as your personal guard as you return to the east."

Gasper nodded silently but enthusiastically. "Can I see my father before leaving, my lord?"

Gerald shook his head. "No, you cannot. Nobody can know that you're still alive. Not until my plans are over."

"My lord, I will follow your commands," Gasper said. "But going back to the east with a bandit crew won't be easy. There are two large bandit crews there that are very territorial. One rules the northern half of the east and the other rules the southern half. I will likely be chased out as soon as I arrive."

Gerald chuckled. "Robard has already informed me about the bandit hegemonies in the east," he said. "It's good that you've kept that in mind, though. Don't worry, however, I won't send you and a few inexperienced refugees to defeat the bandits on your own. I said that I will poison them, and I will. You'll see that for yourself. You and your crew will just be there to clean up. Rest well. Many of my plans will rest on you. Although I'm not sure yet if you'll be competent enough, I won't lose a thing. Your failure or success will decide both your honor and your fate."

Gasper saluted with a fist on his chest. "I will strive to live up to your expectations, my lord. And I will redeem myself," he said with determination.

Gerald nodded, satisfied. Then he turned to his aides. "Nobody will speak of Gasper's return or his mission," he commanded. "Not to others, or even among yourselves. I want this matter forgotten until it either bears fruit or fails entirely."

"Yes, your lordship," the three men said in unison. Then Robard approached Gerald and whispered, "will we move against the bandits that killed your father, my lord?"

"No," Gerald whispered back. "We won't move against those bandits. Because they weren't bandits."

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Gerald's aides accompanied him through the streets of Ard. He was going to visit Kale, the bowyer. The talented bowyer was a godsend for Gerald. If he could arm his men well with Kale's help, then providing the gold the latter requested would be worth it. If Gerald's men couldn't fight well in close quarters due to the bad equipment, then they could fight from range with good bows and crossbows. There was always a way to make use of your advantages. But you had to have some advantages in the first place, if you didn't want to find your sleeves empty in the depth of battle.

Gerald's chosen attire was quite average. He just looked like a well-off man in the streets of Ard. He didn't want to standout too much. He preferred to see how his castle was doing without attracting too much attention. Unfortunately, Robard's shining armor didn't allow him such pleasure. The head knight had insisted on accompanying him. And there was no one in Ard who didn’t recognize the head knight, Robard, with his damned shining armor. That was how Gerald's quick disguise plan failed.

The streets were as Gerald expected them, muddy with pits and puddles here and there. The smell around some corners was unbearable, and around others peculiar.

"Uncle Rudolf, you'll accompany Gasper as we've discussed," Gerald whispered as he glanced back at the unwitting Renard. "You will make sure he doesn't provoke the bandit crews just yet. We're not looking for a battle that can't be won."

"I will do as you've planned," Uncle Rudolf nodded, striding down the dirty alley along with Gerald. "But are you sure about Gasper's crew staying in the forest?"

"Yes. That's the only place where such a number of people could stay without being noticed by the two bandit crews in the east," Gerald said. "I'll send two rangers from the castle with you to help you settle in the forest for the time being. When you do, I'll want you to help Gasper train the riffraff he will have recruited."

Uncle Rudolf nodded again.

The walk to Kale's workshop was uneventful, specially with all the people getting out of Gerald's way once they spotted his entourage. When Gerald finally arrived, he spotted a lively front. There were youths running left and right, which Gerald assumed were apprentices. Bits and pieces of wood were strewn about everywhere.

As they entered the workshop, none of the apprentices took special note of them until they spotted Robard's armor. Most of the youths, however, were always looking ahead while carrying chunks of timber or small contraptions around. A youth almost ran into Arthur one time.

When no one came out to receive them, Robard cleared his throat and stepped forward. "KALE!" he yelled.

It took a few moments of patience until they heard what sounded like a mountain of tools crashing down on someone, then Kale came out. He was a young man, as Gerald was told, with disheveled brown hair and an average stature. He came out limping a little and holding his thigh. Apparently, he was the victim of the tool crash. "Yes?" he said. Then it took him a moment to account for all his guests, and a moment of realization finally dawned on him. "Oh! please… umm. Wait a … George! Come here, get some chairs for the excellencies."

Robard shook his head then gestured towards Gerald. "This is Viscount Gerald Tellus. I suppose you've heard about the new lord of the house?"

"Of course," Kale blurted out. "Certainly. Yes. I've heard about that." Then he bowed a crooked bow. "Welcome to my workshop, your Viscountnes—my lord?" he paused then scratched his head a little and his face started looking awkward. "It's my honor tha—"

Gerald interrupted him with a wave of his hand and a chuckle. "You don't have to try so hard," he said. "I'm just here to ask you about your work."

Kale listened intently, then nodded his head with pride. "It has been majestic so far, my work. Umm, I think I'm close to something good. Has my request for funds reached your lordship?"

"We can talk about your request," Gerald said. "But first, tell me what you're close to."

"Hmm," Kale looked thoughtful for a moment and gazed at the very ordinary-looking wall. "Actually, I'm not sure."

Gerald heard a choking sound from behind him, probably of someone stifling a laugh, and he saw Arthur shaking his head with a sigh. Even he himself didn't know how to feel towards such an answer. "How am I supposed to approve your request if I don't know what you're making?" Gerald asked.

Kale shrugged with a helpless expression. "My apologies?", he said. Then he stammered again and seemed to remember something. "My lord! . . . my apologies, my lord."

Gerald shook his head with resignation. "Is it perhaps a ballista? I've heard that you succeeded in making good crossbows. Perhaps you could make a ballista?" Gerald said, regaining his optimism.

"A ballista?" Kale said, looking enthusiastic with two fingers supporting his chin. "No." Then he shook his head. "I'd need at least a few ballistae and some luck to be able to figure out how it's built. Most people seem to think that the intricate parts of crossbows and ballistae are alike. They are not."

Gerald sighed. "Alright. Tell me what you can do, then. How many crossbows and bows can you make a day?"

Kale scratched his chin, wrinkling the corner of his mouth in thought. "Well, hmm," he paused again and appeared to be recounting something. "Five?" he said uncertainly. "Five crossbows a day. Also, twenty regular bows or ten longbows a day with the current number of apprentices, along with the five crossbows. The mellowed wood is ready in large quantities. So it shouldn't be difficult."

Gerald nodded. A regular bow was much easier to craft, but the longest range it could reach with an arrow would be a hundred yards or a little bit more. On the other hand, longbows could land arrows as far as 300 yards or even further. Gerald turned to Robard and said, "How is our long range corps?"

Robard took a deep breath. "We have 500 bowmen, mostly equipped with longbows. We also have 100 crossbowmen. They've all been equipped with Kale's new crossbows."

"Not enough," Gerald said. "Currently, long range is our strength. I want at least 300 trained crossbowmen in the army. Crossbows are hard to make, but training the men to use them isn't. Let's make use of that. I also want all of our bowmen wielding longbows, not most of them. Regular bows are obsolete with the existence of crossbows. They nearly have the same range, except crossbows are deadlier."

Robard nodded. "As you command, my lord. Will we recruit new men for this training?"

Gerald glanced at the silent Renard then looked back at Robard and shook his head. "No, choose your worst footmen and turn them into the 200 new crossbowmen." Then he turned to Kale and said, "can you craft the needed arms for this reorganization?"

"I would need forty days to prepare 200 crossbows," Kale said.

Gerald was taken aback. "If you don't craft bows, can't you increase the number of crossbows you make each day," he asked.

"Ahh, you've misunderstood me, my lord," Kale explained. "I only need to take part in the most complicated moments of crafting a longbow. The rest is for my apprentices to handle. But the crossbows need my full attention. Nobody else could help with them. Unfortunately, I haven't taught my apprentices how to make crossbows yet. It's too difficult for most of them."

Gerald rubbed his forehead. "Alright, forty days it is. Tell me, how much do these crossbows cost us?"

"About two gold coins a crossbow," Kale said. "That would be 400 gold for all of them."

Gerald was genuinely surprised. He knew that crossbows usually cost much more than that to buy. Mostly, four or five coins for one. He assumed that it was because of the craftsmanship that its price soared that high. The rarer a weapon, the pricier it becomes. Just like ballistae. Gerald had heard that the cheapest ballista would cost 500 gold coins. He was sure, however, that the materials used for making a ballista didn't cost that much. It was the rarity. Only a select few could craft a ballista, and it took a lot of effort to build one. "Good, make haste as much as you can," Gerald said. "That will be all for now." Then he prepared to leave. But Kale quickly spoke.

"About my request, my lord?"

"Ahh," Gerald turned back. "I forgot. Yes, how much gold would you need for your 'I don't know' undertaking?"

Kale took a deep breath and enthusiastically said, "One thousand gold coins would be enough."

"Forget it," Gerald said and turned to leave. What a madman. He wanted an eighth of the house's treasury. Gerald almost laughed. Who could provide him that in such a rundown Viscounty.

"Wait, my lord" Kale jumped as if someone had torched his ass. "five hundred would be enough," he hopped a few steps then landed in front of the leaving Gerald. "Please, my lord?" He was mostly squealing at the end of his pleading.

"Fine," Gerald sighed. "But you better make something good out of that gold. Or else . . ."

"Or else what, my lord?" Kale asked, his face paling a little.

"I don't know," Gerald grinned, hardly holding his laugher. He heard his aides chuckling beside him, though. "I suppose we'll both surprise each other, Kale."

Gerald and his entourage were soon out of Kale's workshop and walking back to the keep; however, Gerald decided to stop on the way. "Is that an inn?" he asked, pointing at a building that looked quite a bit better than the houses surrounding it.

"Yes, my lord," Robard said. "It's the Singing Mule, the most popular inn in the castle. Not that there are many others to compete with it."

Gerald understood what Robard meant. The castle was too small. Even if many inns were opened, there weren't enough patrons to frequent them. Even after the castle was crowded with newcomers, it didn't change that most of them lacked coin to spend at an inn. "I want to go into that inn," Gerald said. "But you all have to go back to the keep without me. Only Uncle Rudolf will accompany me there."

Robard fidgeted slightly then started speaking. "My lord, I have to—"

"No need to speak," Gerald commanded. "I'm going in there, and no one will accompany me except Uncle Rudolf."

Robard hesitated for a moment then turned to Arthur who met the knight's eye and shook his head. "Yes, my lord," Robard said, finally yielding.

"Good," Gerald nodded before striding to the doors of the inn, glancing back at his aides who departed hesitantly. Uncle Rudolf walked beside him, keeping up with his pace. Gerald was finally going to find out what his subjects said in their free time. Hopefully, it would only slightly irritate him.

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Gerald pushed the doors of the inn open and entered, followed by Uncle Rudolf. There were several tables spread around the inn. Only two of them were empty, though. Gerald and his old steward walked to one of the tables without attracting much attention. The most they got was a glance of curiosity from here or there. They weren't regulars here, after all.

Gerald spotted the innkeeper, a tall, sturdy woman, pointing at them while whispering to one of the serving girls. The latter nodded and hurried towards Gerald's table.

The serving girl didn't seem to possess much in the art of patience or courtesy, evident by her words upon reaching the table. "We have ale, mead, wine, and cider. What will it be?" she said.

Gerald didn't really mind her manner of speech. He wasn't here as the lord, and most people who frequented inns weren't used to courtesy. He pondered for a while and found himself inclined towards wine. But then he glanced around and found that he would be the only one drinking it in the whole inn. "Ale," he said.

"Cider for this old man," Uncle Rudolf chuckled.

The girl nodded and trotted back to the innkeeper. The drinks were soon served and Gerald took his time observing the people in the inn. They were mostly well-off idlers mixed with a few workers who sought to steal a swig before a long day's work. Gerald knew that it would have been better if he had come at night because he would find the inn overcrowded with all sorts of people. Alas, his only chance came at an early morning like this. He sighed and started listening to the heated arguments among the drinkers.

"I hear Madame Grina is hiring able men," one man said, downing a tankard of ale as if it was nothing.

"Heh, she always is," another 'whispered' in a rather loud tone. "Last time they hired a lot of men, hoping to start a riot before the arrival of the new Viscount. They failed in the end. Almost half of the hired men died before even moving into the main streets. I'd rather empty latrines than work for her viscous mug. She didn't even compensate their families."

"What do you know?" the first man retorted, his face a little flushed from drinking. "This time the lady is paying a silver per each able hand. A silver a day! Imagine that. You'd earn at least 15 gold coins in one year. The oldest veteran I know in the army doesn't earn that much."

The second man snorted. "If you live to get paid, that is," he said. "You're a drunken fool who'd send lads to their death. You're no better than that snake and her worm brother."

"I'm a drunkard fool? Heh, you're the one who's brain's been eaten by maggots. No dimwit would refuse that much silver just because they fear death. And who said you'd die if you served her. They didn't say it was for a riot, did they?"

Gerald wore an ugly expression as the two men continued spewing curses at each other, while Uncle Rudolf looked helpless. "Grina," Gerald said. "She's my cousin, yes?" Gerald had heard about his cousins before from Arthur. They had tried to subvert his claim and seize his seat before he arrived at Ard. He hadn't heard about the attempted riot, though. He guessed that Arthur didn't want to show incompetence upon the new lord's arrival, hence not informing him of the matter. The riot had been suppressed quickly anyway, and it hadn't done any damage, so it could hardly be called a real riot worth reporting to him.

Uncle Rudolf nodded. "I believe so. It should be her," he said. "I don't know why she would hire men now, though."

The Tellus family had several branching households, but the most prominent of them was the one that was spearheaded by the siblings, Grina and Estor. They were the ones that had their eyes on the Viscounty for a long time, according to Arthur.

Gerald frowned. "Nearly fourteen silvers a fortnight. That's a lot to pay for one man's work. What are they planning now?" Gerald knew that most people were paid with copper coins for each day's work. Very few could earn a silver a day. It was too much, considering that twenty silvers were worth a gold coin and twenty coppers were worth a silver coin. A man would need to work for less than a month to make a gold coin if he earned one silver a day, which was enough to last him for almost half a year. Gerald assumed that the words he'd just heard about the hired men dying before being paid were true.

"I haven't seen them till this day," Gerald continued. His cousins had been absent from the day of his inheritance of the Viscounty and the celebration in the following day. It seemed that they hadn't taken their failure kindly. "I suppose I'll have to invite my cousins to the keep for a talk soon." Gerald hadn't expected to hear something like this being said brazenly in an inn. If anything, his visit was worth the time after hearing this drunken argument. Then Gerald's ears twitched as he heard another exchange from a different table.

"I heard the new Viscount has only seen twenty winters," an old man said. "I wonder where our fate is takin' us."

A young man beside that old man chuckled heartily. "And you always say that I'm too young to take over your stall, old man. I have a mind to leave you and that stinking stall and go find another sort of work," he said.

"Shut up," the old man growled. Gerald assumed that they were father and son. "You think a Viscount of that age is good for Ard? Young fools like you always ruin anything they touch. If you'd learned well, I would have let you man the stall alone. I'm not fond of hard work with these old bones. But I know that you'd ruin it within the year."

It was worth laughing at that one could hear all sorts of thoughts and news just by sitting peacefully at an inn, Gerald believed. It was like men intentionally thought aloud at inns, hoping that others would hear their grumblings.

Gerald spent the rest of the morning in the inn, listening to some men's stories of romantic conquests and others' unforgiven grudges. He'd soon lost count of how many stories he'd heard, and found himself with a shooting ache permeating his head. "I think it's about time for us to leave," Gerald said.

"I think so too," Uncle Rudolf chuckled calmly. "It's also about time for me to check on Gasper. He doesn't know what he has to do aside from the recruitment yet."

Gerald nodded, standing up and dropping a copper coin on the table. He looked at the innkeeper who nodded to him a with the best smile she could muster, considering her rough features.

They were soon out of the inn and on their way to the keep. Uncle Rudolf would accompany Gerald to the keep to pick up a hundred gold coins, which would be enough to sustain Gasper's new crew for the time being.

On their way, however, a violent rattling and smashing sound caught their attention from one of the shaded alleys. Gerald glanced at it curiously and decided to walk over and see whatever was happening there. Uncle Rudolf followed him silently.

In the alley, a small girl was standing with a leather bag in her hands and her back to the wall. In front of her, three young boys of larger stature were surrounding her in a crescent.

"Street urchins," Gerald whispered sharply. "I didn't know we had some of those in Ard."

"Some families can't afford to raise more than a child or two, so they dispose of their children in the streets," Uncle Rudolf said. "That along with the arrival of the peasants who fled from the surrounding bandits makes Ard full of homeless children and adults alike."

"Hand us the sweet buns," one of the boys soon yelled.

"I've earned them," the girl said with a determined face.

"You've stolen them," another boy said. "Now hand them over."

"No, I didn't steal them. The old woman gave them to me for helping her. They're mine."

"Listen, you little whore," the third boy said. He was larger than his two companions and stood in the middle, apparently their leader. "You better hand me those buns or I'll—"

He didn't get to continue his words as a thick wooden branch descended on the back of his head like a bolt of lightning. It crashed over his head with its weight and the large boy swayed almost tumbling down. Before he and the other two could turn to see who ambushed them from the dark, another swing struck him on the head. Then another struck one of the other two boys. Soon enough, there was a flurry of strikes descending on the three young hoodlums. They screamed and yelled, waving their hands hoping to grab whoever was holding that branch, but they horribly failed as they cared more about covering their vulnerable faces than catching him. The three boys struggled fruitlessly, even failing to catch sight of the assailant. They soon gave up on fighting back and ran out of the back of the alley, covering their heads and shouting curses.

Another boy walked out of the shadows with the branch in hand and a grin on his face, his eyes meeting the girl's.

"I told you it would work," the girl said with a smile. "See? They ran like rats."

Interesting, Gerald smirked as he watched them.

"I didn't think we could scare them like that," the boy with the branch said, still grinning like an idiot. "Haha, this was marvelous!"

The pair kept chuckling until they heard the sound of approaching steps from the head of the alley. They soon stood agape as they watched Gerald and Uncle Rudolf drawing closer. They hesitated and looked behind them, possibly thinking of following the running rats but Gerald's next yell seemed to freeze them.

"Don't run!"

The pair stood silent, watching Gerald until he stood between them. The girl's wide eyes watched Gerald. He could have sworn that she was appraising him. Somehow, he felt odd while she watched him. The boy, on the other hand, was slightly trembling and holding his branch tightly, apparently ready to defend himself and his companion.

Uncle Rudolf stepped forward and vaguely introduced Gerald. "This is Lord Gerald. Don't worry. It's your fortune that you've met him."

"The Viscount?" the girl asked, her eyes widening even further.

Gerald raised a brow. It wasn't expected of a homeless child to understand nobility and their complicated circles, even in a simple castle like Ard. "How did you know," he asked.

"There is only one noble in Ard," the girl said. "The lord of the keep, and the Viscount of Ard and the surrounding lands. I haven't heard of any other nobles arriving in the castle."

"Heard? And where do you hear whatever it is you do exactly?" Gerald said with an amused smirk.

"In the streets," the girl said with a roll of her eyes. "People talk about everything in front of their homes, while buying from stalls, and at their workshops. They always talk. There is nothing to do but hear on the streets."

Gerald laughed. He found the pair quite interesting indeed. The girl, specially, seemed sharper than some adults. "How old are you?" he asked her.

"We're not sure," the girl shook her head. "Nobody ever told us."

"Ahh, right," Gerald nodded. "That was to be expected."

"But I think we're both twelve years of age," the girl continued.

"Well," Gerald said. "Since Uncle Rudolf has declared that you're fortunate to meet me and you know that I'm the Viscount, I suppose there is no harm in bringing you back with me to the keep. There is no harm in one more maid who hears well, as long as she doesn't stretch her ears too far." Gerald looked at the girl. Then he turned to the boy, "I've been looking for a personal attendant, too. Perhaps I've found one." Gerald then turned around and slowly walked out of the alley. "Come on, you two. My keep doesn't lack sweet buns," he chuckled as he walked away.

The pair of homeless children looked at each other hesitantly, then they steeled themselves and followed Gerald with instinctive caution in their eyes.

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Gerald sat in his study, mulling over the condition of the treasury. He'd spent over a thousand gold coins from the original eight thousand already. He hoped that his plans in the east would make up for the losses, though. Bandits were supposed to be rich, right? It wasn't likely that they bought anything with their gold. They stole their food, clothing, and even most of their arms. So what did they do with their gold? Gerald found himself enjoying the idea of finding out through closer observation.

He looked beside him at Harrid who stood ramrod straight. He'd picked the boy up along with Yanna, the little clever girl, from the streets. They were both homeless but Gerald brought them both to the keep. Yanna was now the youngest maid there, and Harrid was his attendant. Gerald hadn't really been looking for an attendant like he'd told them, but he found it the most convenient position to busy the boy with.

He sighed and glanced at Harrid whose legs were probably sore from his tense posture all day. The boy really didn't understand the difference between being an attendant and being a shadow. Gerald had informed him twice in the past few days that he didn't have to stick to him everywhere, especially in his study. An attendant was supposed to stay right outside the door, but the boy was too nervous and Gerald didn't want to add more to his difficulties. So he didn't mention it again.

"Harrid," Gerald said. "Go and summon Sir Robard for me."

"Yes, my lord," the boy said, sweat trickling down his forehead. Then he hurried out of the study.

It had been a fortnight since Gerald sent Gasper and Uncle Rudolf to the eastern forest with the newly recruited refugees. Today was the day Gasper was supposed to act. His life and the whole plan would depend on how well he plays his role. But Gerald had to play his part too, and it was about time.

Soon Robard arrived in the study, saluting. "Viscount, you've summoned me. How may I serve you?"

"Relax, Robard," Gerald smiled. "I need you to handle a sensitive matter for me."

"Command me, my lord," Robard said.

"Listen," Gerald started. "I want you prepare a rider to visit the Big Mountain crew in the east. I want to reach an agreement with them."

"What kind of agreement?" Robard asked, slightly suspicious.

"We'll pay them good coin for safe passage to the mine in the south east," Gerald explained. "The iron mine there is the lifeline of the army. Although it doesn't produce the highest quality of iron, it's still important for the house. The Big Mountain crew controls the lower half of the east. We should make sure our passage through the east is unimpeded."

"My lord," Robard said, seemingly swallowing his hidden anger. "This will shame the house. Paying brigands for our safe passage? And in the family's lands? This . . . It's unacceptable. We'd be the laughing stock of the whole kingdom."

"Calm down, Robard," Gerald said, his voice sharper and his brows wrinkled into a frown. "Unless you're a fool who'll make this a matter public, nobody will ever know. You'll send the rider at night. He'll negotiate with the bandits and return, then we'll send them the agreed upon sum a few nights later. Secrecy is why I summoned you personally."

Robard fidgeted as he stood, his face contorted into an ugly shape. Apparently, he was still struggling between the shame of disobeying his commands and the shame of negotiating with bandits. The middle-aged knight eventually sighed and visibly yielded. "As you command, my lord. But you should know that the late Viscount, your father, would have never done such a thing."

"I'm not my father," Gerald said. "I intend to learn from his mistakes."

"He wasn't a bad man or a bad lord," Robard refuted, almost with a sharpness to his voice.

"I never said he was," Gerald said, shaking his head. "He's been through a lot, because of me and my sister. I want to change that. I want to fix what our enemies ruined for him, so that he may rest well in his grave. His mistakes, I won't repeat; and his enemies, I won't forgive. You just need to follow my commands, Robard."

Robard nodded reluctantly. "yes, my lord."

"The rider is to arrive there at midnight," Gerald said. "I don't want anyone to see or hear anything about this. Also, demand from the bandits that they keep this matter a secret for the sake of family's honor, otherwise we won't pay them a single copper. This is very important. Do you understand?"

"By your command, my lord," Robard saluted and left hurriedly, obviously unsatisfied. Gerald didn't mind, though, as long as he listened to his commands. The head knight of the house would soon know that not everything had to be handled in a rigid manner. Subterfuge would often be the path to victory.

After Robard left, Harrid walked into the study. Gerald quickly pointed towards the open door for the boy to remember that he should stand outside, not beside him.

Harrid noticed where Gerald was pointing, walked back towards the door then closed it and slowly walked back to stand beside Gerald.

Gerald wanted to slam his face into the table.

ß---------------------------------------------------------------à

Gasper watched the splintered rays of light falling from between the thick branches of the trees. He had brought his newly recruited crew into the forest and they settled in with the help of Master Rudolf and two rangers.

He eyed the surrounding camp, full of people and activity. Raggedly armored refugees moved around the camp, mostly enjoying their free porridge. The Viscount had allowed him to empty the armory of its oldest and worst equipment. He'd used the salvaged armor and arms to equip the men he recruited.

Today, though, was the day he was supposed to act. Cold sweat was already trickling its way down his back. He was determined to redeem himself, yes, but today's little game would decide his life or death on someone else's whim. He couldn't help but be anxious.

He saw Master Rudolf approaching from the distance. The old man was wearing an expressionless copper mask and his body was covered with a dark grey robe. He was even covering his hair. The old steward had told Gasper that he didn't want anyone to know his identity or even his age.

Now it seemed that the old man had noticed that it was time and was coming to remind Gasper.

Gasper sighed. Can't delay anymore.

"Gasper," Master Rudolf said. "Are you preparing to move?"

Gasper nodded. "Yes. Today's gamble will be a hard one."

"May fortune keep your company," the old man said. "I believe it will work. Bandits aren't a sharp bunch, even if they're a vicious one."

"Yes," Gasper said. But some people have black clouds hovering over them, he thought. People like me.

Soon, Gasper had changed from his new iron armor into the ragged leathers the bandits had given him. He took a deep breath and trotted to the north, towards the Black Dog crew's camp. It was time to return to the dogs' nest. It didn't take him long to find his way out of the forest with the help of a ranger.

The time it took him to reach the bandit camp was enough for the sun to descend half way through the sky. If he hadn't been running most of the distance, it would have taken him a whole day. He soon caught sight of the rough palisade the bandits had built around their camp. The camp was on flat land. They didn't even build it on a hill. Apparently, they weren't worried about getting attacked. They'd learn otherwise soon. Hopefully.

When he was about a hundred steps from the palisades he heard a yell, "halt!"

He stopped and looked at the crooked watchtower near the gate. A bandit with a nocked bow was standing there, eying him cautiously. "Who goes there?" the bandit shouted.

"It's me, Gasper!" Gasper yelled. "I've returned. I was lost in the forest on the day of Red Dog's hunt."

"Piss on my corpse if a man could survive for a fortnight in the forest," the bandit yelled back. "Now who in the fucking hells are you?"

"I swear it is me, Gasper. Just call any of the lads on my squad and they'll tell you."

"Half your god damned squad is dead, lad," the bandit said with uncertainty. "That is if you're the real fucking Gasper."

"I am," Gasper said. "Just let me see the chief. I have important news to report."

The bandit grunted and signaled for a few men to walk out of the gate. They quickly arrived close to Gasper. "By the seven seas, it is you!" one of them yelled. "Where in the hells have you been?" The other bandits relaxed after their companion recognized him. Then they accompanied Gasper back to the camp.

As soon as Gasper entered the camp, one of Black Dog's lieutenants blocked his way. "I don't know where you have been all this time. That whole hunt that Red Dog started was a large bloody mess that pissed the chief off. You'd better have a good reason for staying out there so long. The boss wants to see you, or rip you apart, whichever."

Gasper swallowed. Not the best of starts. He still accompanied the bandit lieutenant to Black Dog's cabin, though. It didn't take them long. The camp wasn't very large. Mostly tents cramped next to each other.

"You'll enter alone," the bandit lieutenant said, pushing the cabin's door open. "Choose your words and you might live, lad."

Gasper nodded gratefully then stepped into the cabin. He quickly spotted Black dog who was sitting with both legs stretched on a table. He didn't spare one glance in Gasper's direction as he was busy cleaning his teeth with a small blade. "Ugh, god damn it," he grumbled as the blade drew blood. "Why won't the fucking meat just go down our throats like everything else," he asked Gasper. "Why does it always get stuck in my miserable teeth, huh?"

Gasper was speechless for a while. The bandit chief was actually waiting for an answer, with a burning glare fixed on him. "Umm, because . . . meat tastes good, and no good comes without a price?" Gasper said uncertainly. He'd heard about Black Dog a lot but only faced him closely twice during his previous stay of a month in the camp. He knew that the ugly bandit chief wasn't actually asking with the expectation of a detailed answer. He was asking to see the best answer he could come up with.

"Well," the bandit chief said, pulling his legs down. "Since you're so good at finding answers," he chuckled. "Tell me, why the fuck did you only come back today? And why the hell did I find Red Dog's corpse mangled in the direction of Ard?" Black Dog asked, his face freezing into an incarnation of murder.

Gasper breathed slowly, hoping that he wouldn't make the slightest mistake in his next words. Black Dog was a Sky Warrior. That was how he managed to keep such a bandit camp in line. If the man wanted to kill him, then Gasper wouldn't be able to escape. Even if he somehow put up a fight against Black Dog, the rest of the camp would soon descend upon him like a rain of shit. "I didn't know that Red Dog died," Gasper said, wearing his most shocked expression. "I-I was attacked along with another member of my squad. The peasants ambushed us in the forest. All I know is that I ran and ran and ran. Finally, I came out of the forest's south."

Black Dog looked thoughtful for a while then went back to his futile attempts at cleaning his teeth. "That still doesn't explain why you've been away for a whole fortnight, does it?"

"No," Gasper said hastily. "Actually, I saw something that I shouldn't have and I had to take the long way back, hoping they wouldn't catch me."

Black Dog raised his head and met Gasper's eye, his gaze sharp and penetrating. "What did you see," he said, sitting up.

"The Big Mountain crew," Gasper said, doing his best to keep a straight face. "I saw a man wearing the Viscount's colors at their camp. They were cautious and they had guards everywhere. I think they didn't want anybody to see that man." Gasper could hear his heart beating as he told the planned lie. This would decide whether the Viscount's plan would work, and whether he would live or die.

Black Dog's gaze sharpened even further and he stood up. "Are you telling the truth, boy?" he said. "If you're trying to save yourself with a little lie like this, I will cut your limps off and throw you to the wolves."

"I swear I'm not," Gasper said with the pale face he'd managed to muster. He had to look scared if he wanted the bandit to believe him. A scared man was more likely to tell the truth. If he looked too calm, he would invite suspicion for sure.

"Then tell me exactly what happened," Black Dog growled.

"I saw a rider clearly wearing the Viscount's colors arriving at their gates and they quickly let him in. Then one of Big Mountain's men caught sight of my movement and yelled. It was dark, though. So they kept looking but they gave up when they found nothing. I had to circle around from the south and follow the mountain range all the way to the north. That's why it took me a fortnight to come back."

Black Dog stood up, pacing up and down the cabin. "And you're sure it was a man from Ard? You saw the colors clearly even at night?" the bandit chief asked after a while.

"Yes," Gasper nodded fervently. "The torches made his colors clear and he wore the armor of the Viscount's soldiers. I don't think he was just a soldier, though. They showed him too much respect for that."

Black Dog cursed and threw the small blade away. "Those bastards must be planning to take over the east, or worse, trying to wipe us out and win favor with that cunt who rules Ard," he growled. "Have you heard? A new Viscount is upon us, boy."

"No," Gasper shook his head. "I didn't know that. What happened to the old Viscount?"

Black Dog chuckled then said, "the old fool died. At least we had peace in his time. This new one is young and makes me restless." The bandit chief rambled on for a while then turned seriously towards Gasper. "Listen, boy. You'll go with Yellow Dog tonight and keep watch over the Big Mountain camp for as long as it takes. If you see someone like that again, you'll come back and let me know. But if it never happens, you'll wish I had killed you today."

Gasper nodded. "I will do that, chief," he said. "I swear on my life that what I said was true."

The lie is finally woven, Gasper thought. I wonder if the Viscount's plan will really work.

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Gasper crawled up the hill alongside the other bandits. They had covered most of the distance between the Black Dog camp and the Big Mountain camp on horseback, but they still made it to the latter after dusk.

When they finally crawled their way to the top of the hill, the Big Mountain camp came in sight. It wasn't unlike the Black Dog camp. It had a palisade slightly higher than a man's height, surrounding the cramped tents. Some crude watch towers were scattered around the palisade and near the crooked gates.

Gasper spotted some Big Mountain bandits patrolling the surroundings of the camp, but he and his companions were too far away to be spotted. He couldn't help but scoff. Leaving a hill like the one they were on unwatched showed just how incompetent bandits were. He wondered why the former Viscount didn't just wipe them all out. They were no match for a real army. The Viscount just had to recruit some more men and spend some coin on their equipment. The bandits wouldn't have stood a chance.

"I don't want to hear even a fart from anyone of you while we're here," Yellow Dog said, running his eyes over the bandits and Gasper. "If they see us here, we're as good as dead."

Everyone nodded. Any noise would mean everyone's death. They didn't need to be reminded twice of such a thing.

The last rays of light were soon stifled by the night as they waited, vigilantly watching the camp. Yellow Dog had arranged for half of them to be watching at all times, and the other half to be resting. It would go that way for a fortnight. If they didn't find anything by then, they'd drag Gasper back to Black Dog for his reckoning.

Most of the time, Gasper would be on the receiving end of the dubious stares from Yellow Dog. Every moment of patience for the bandits meant more suspicion towards Gasper. The longer they had to wait, the worse it would get for him.

They didn't have to wait for long, though.

At midnight, Gasper saw a rider approaching the camp from the distance, wearing the Viscount's colors. The young Viscount had delivered. The plan was going just as he had told Gasper. They had agreed on acting on the same day. The Viscount had said that it was better that he sent a rider on the same day Gasper informed Black Dog, in case the latter doubted Gasper and didn't have the patience to wait for more than one night. That was why Gasper had to get Black Dog to act on the same day too. Fortunately, he didn't have to persuade Black Dog to act quickly. The latter was in a hurry himself and dispatched him and Yellow Dog to watch the Big Mountain camp on the same day. As far as Gasper knew, it wouldn't have been a serious issue if the bandit chief hadn't acted on the same day either. The Viscount had promised to send a rider on a few different nights after this one for assurance.

One of the bandits beside Gasper spotted the rider and almost yelled out. He quickly got a hold of himself, though, and kept quiet. Then he turned to Yellow Dog who wasn't on watch. "Yellow Dog!" he whispered. "He's here."

Yellow Dog quickly scrambled up and poked his head over the hill with them. He look at the horizon and saw a rider approaching the camp. The rider trotted all the way to the camp's gates before being stopped. Gasper and the bandits beside him couldn't hear what was being said as the rider stopped. They were quite a distance away from the camp, enough to see but not to hear anything aside from unclear yells.

The rider stayed on his horse for a few moments as Gasper and Yellow Dog watched a few words being exchanged. It took a while for the gates of the camp to open and the rider to be allowed inside.

Yellow Dog kept his eyes glued to the camp until the rider was out of sight. "Why did they keep him outside for so long," he asked, eyeing Gasper suspiciously.

Fucking hells, Gasper swore inwardly. This fool isn't supposed to be this sharp.

"They did that last time too," Gasper said after collecting himself. "Maybe they're making sure he isn't a spy, especially after they noticed me last time."

Yellow Dog grunted then shrugged. "Alright, let's go back and report to the chief." The bandits soon complied and crawled back down the hill and mounted their horses.

It didn't take them long to ride back to the Black Dog camp. Yellow Dog took Gasper to Black Dog's cabin once they arrived.

"Chief," yellow Dog said as he pushed the cabin's door open. "We're back."

Gasper stepped in after Yellow Dog, hoping the latter wouldn't mention the delay they had witnessed the Viscount's rider encounter at the gates.

"Come in, quickly," Black Dog yelled. "Tell me you've found something or I'll skin you two for coming back so quickly."

"We did," Yellow Dog nodded as he and Gasper arrived in front of Black Dog. The chief was seated with his legs on the table as usual. He quickly sat up when he heard Yellow Dog's last words, though.

"What did you find?"

"It's true, chief," Yellow Dog said. "They have really been receiving the riders of the Viscount. We saw one just now, before coming back."

Black Dog stood up, expressionless. He pondered for a few moments, while Gasper secretly sighed in relief that Yellow Dog didn't get into the details. Black Dog, however, was too silent for Gasper to be comfortable. He felt something odd about him. His feeling was soon explained as Black Dog broke into mad laughter. "Those bastards thought they'd make a fool out of me," he said in the middle of his barking laughter. "Now they've given me the opportunity. I can finally take the whole east for myself. None of the other crews would blame me for wiping the Big Mountain out. Haha, great. This is great."

Gasper watched bandit chief nearly dancing in happiness. "Will we move against them, chief?" Gasper asked after some hesitation.

Black Dog eyed him. "Why, of course we will, lad. But first, we have to gain the approval of the others. Yellow Dog, send your fastest riders to the two crews in the north. Inform their chiefs of what we've found and tell them to send someone to witness what we've seen. Those bastards won't believe us until they see it themselves."

"Yes, chief," Yellow Dog nodded then quickly left.

Gasper was relieved. Everything was going as planned. Black Dog was too greedy to notice that he was really being taken for a fool. It was a pleasant surprise for Gasper. How had he not expected a bandit to be greedy? The best way to play a bandit was through his greed. It wasn't really a revelation. He was just too anxious to notice the glint of desire in Black Dog's eyes the first time he had lied to him. It was always clear that the bandit chief was anticipating the current results. Gasper just never noticed it.

ß------------------------------------------------à

Gerald chuckled as he received the news from Robard. The rider had visited the Big Mountain bandits last night, and their chief was more than just delighted with the Viscount's proposal. Gerald wasn't surprised. For a bandit to be given a toll by a lord, it was a sign of recognition and it meant that the lord had given up on removing them. The bandit chief was glad to the point of endless laughter, according to the rider Robard had sent.

Gerald, too, wanted to laugh. But he would wait for the last laugh. It was coming soon, and patience was of the essence.

"How much did they demand?" Gerald asked Robard who stood in front of him. They were in his study and Harrid was standing right beside him as always. Gerald had given up on teaching the boy to stand outside. He'd found it easier to just let him stand beside him.

"A hundred gold coins, my lord," Robard said begrudgingly. "I still think we shouldn't do it, though."

"Have patience, Robard," Gerald said. "Believe me, this won't last for long."

Robard nodded, though obviously unconvinced.

Gerald just sighed and continued, "Wait a few nights then send them half the gold. Tell them that we have to make sure our passage to the southeast is really safe before we pay them the rest of the gold. Then a few nights after that, send them the rest of the gold."

Two more times should be enough for Gasper to prove his words to the Black Dog crew.

Robard nodded. "I will, my lord."

"You can go," Gerald said.

The head knight saluted then left the study.

It was still early in the day and a few rays of light broke through the study's window. Harrid was standing completely silent beside the pondering Gerald when someone knocked on the study's door. "Who is it?" Gerald asked. He hadn't summoned anyone for now.

"I'm here to clean the study, milord," said a young, untrained voice. Gerald was sure that it was a familiar one.

The door opened and his doubts were confirmed as he saw Yanna, the girl he'd picked up along with Harrid from the streets. She retained her sharp gaze as she looked around, never once looking scared. Whenever her wide eyes met with Gerald's, he'd feel like someone was reading his thoughts. It wasn't that she really saw through him, he believed, it was just the feeling that her peculiar gaze provoked. And it was one of the things that made him take the two children to the keep in the first place.

"It's you," he said.

"Yes, milord," she said, bowing. Then she ignored him and began cleaning. Harrid's eyes never left her for a moment after she entered the study. Gerald used the opportunity to flick the boy and chuckled. The latter rubbed his sore forehead without saying a thing. He was quite the timid one, if Gerald were to describe him. It was no wonder that Yanna was the one to come up with their plan to ambush the hoodlums the other day. Gerald didn't think Harrid was useless, though. The boy was quite hardworking. Gerald had handed him a Warrior manual, and he was progressing well in his training. Gerald believed that it wouldn't be long for the boy to become a Warrior. He was probably more talented than Gerald himself who became a warrior at the age of 15.

The familiar voice soon interrupted Gerald's thoughts. "My lord," Yanna said. "Can I ask you a question?"

Gerald was genuinely surprised. Since the two children had arrived at the keep, neither of them had dared to talk to Gerald without being addressed first. His intuition about Yanna's character seemed to be correct. The girl didn't have a simple head on her shoulders, and she was far from timid.

"Sure, Yanna," Gerald smiled. "Go ahead."

"How did you find us when you did?" she asked with a tilted head.

"Heh," Gerald chuckled. "Well, I was at an inn and I was returning to the keep. Why do you ask?"

The girl quickly looked away when he addressed her with a question, then she said, "Nothing. It's nothing. Were you watching us from much earlier, milord?"

"You mean early enough to see how you got the sweet buns?" Gerald asked, chuckling.

Yanna blushed slightly, then she quickly changed the subject. "Why were you at the inn, milord? You're the lord of the castle. You wouldn't need to visit an inn, right?"

Gerald didn't find her continuous questions annoying but actually amusing, and he decided to indulge her. "I was there to listen. It's important to know what your people think. It makes your decisions wiser."

Yanna, for the first time since he saw her, looked surprised. She perked up slightly and said, "but you're the lord. You don't need to go to the inn yourself to hear those things. Many people would wish to tell you everything they know."

"It's not that simple," he said. "Common people are usually too scared to say much to me when they see me. They spend most of their time bowing or praising me. Most of them wouldn't dare tell me some of the ugly truths out there."

"Oh," realization seemed to have dawned on the girl. Then she smiled. "I can help with that," she said, looking spirited.

Gerald was puzzled. "How would you help exactly?" he asked, raising a brow.

"There are a lot of homeless people in the streets," she said. "They know me. If I give them some food or clothes, they'll tell me everything they know. They hear a lot of things."

"They hear a lot of things," Gerald said with a smile. "Like you do?"

The girl froze for a moment then smiled back. "No, I hear much more than they ever could, milord," she said proudly.

"Haha," Gerald laughed. He had never expected his piqued interest in two homeless children to bring him something like this. "Very well. You can take some food, clothes, and some coin too. Bring me everything these people of yours hear in the streets. I doubt they'd hear what's said behind the closed doors of an inn, though. I suppose they aren't welcome at inns to begin with."

"That is true, milord," the girl said. "But they can hear what's yelled inside some homes. They can hear what women gossip to each other. They can hear who and what men curse in the streets. They hear a lot of things, milord."

"Good," Gerald said. "If this works well, you will have earned your stay here, Yanna. Do you want me to send someone with you, though?"

"No," Yanna shook her head. "If a guard comes with me, he'll scare them. Harrid can come with me, though." She eyed the silent boy hopefully.

"Alright. Harrid can go with you," Gerald smiled then nodded at Harrid who excitedly accompanied Yanna out of the study. Gerald looked around. "Well, she's an awful maid anyway. I hardly see a clean thing in the whole damn study."

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Gerald sat agape, gazing at the two children who'd just a few moments ago entered his study. Yanna and Harrid had just told him their findings in the streets. It had only been six days since the two left the keep to hear things. Yanna had taken some food, clothes, and coin to satisfy the homeless who would be Gerald's ears in Ard. But to his surprise, Yanna didn't just bring him gossip and rumors from the streets, she brought him real news. "Are you sure of what you just said?" Gerald asked. "Say it again."

Yanna took a deep breath then spoke, "Yes. There is a woman. Some call her Madame Grina and others call her Lady Grina. We're sure that she has recruited over 100 men. A homeless man heard servants from her manor talking about it."

"And you two don't think that the homeless man just lied to you for the coin?"

Harrid quickly shook his head. "He couldn't have because we've threatened hi—" He was interrupted with a glare from Yanna, and then there was silence for a moment.

Gerald squinted and glanced between the two dubiously. "Why would he be scared of you two?" Gerald asked. He doubted that a grown man would be scared of two children, but he also believed that the girl, Yanna, might have employed methods that nobody would call kind, specially for a child. So far, she had proven herself to be more than just a little girl.

The two of them didn't answer his question, but he didn't pressure them. If Yanna had talents that helped her tread among the people of the alleys, then it was also good for him. So he chose to ask another question. "Can you have some people keep an eye on that manor and that lady?" he asked, eying Yanna.

"I've already done that," Yanna nodded with a smile.

Gerald stared at her, surprised. It seemed that he didn't have to worry about much with her handling the matter. He laughed in his heart. Arthur and Robard had warned him against taking homeless children into the keep, because they were endless. The two aides never looked kindly at Yanna and Harrid, but they would never have expected such a growing talent to be picked up by Gerald.

"Do you know her, my lord, that lady?" the girl continued, tilting her head.

"Yes," Gerald chuckled. "She's my cousin."

Yanna was visibly shocked, while Harrid flinched.

"You don't have to worry about it, though," he continued. "I want you to keep an eye on her. She's up to no good, and we're not on good terms. You two can each start handling your work here again. I will send you out of the keep in a few days again to check what your friends have managed to hear."

The two calmed down and Yanna nodded. She soon left the study, and Harrid stepped forward to stand beside his lord. Gerald glanced at him and pointed outside the study, hoping that the boy would finally understand and stand outside.

Harrid walked to the door and was about to shut it from the inside again when a yell stopped him. "Get out!" The boy jumped in surprise, looked back at the helplessly fuming Gerald then nodded and stepped out of the study.

"And summon Robard for me," Gerald continued.

Soon, Robard arrived, saluting Gerald.

"How's everything with the Big Mountain crew in the east?" Gerald asked.

"The rider will depart again tonight, my lord," Robard answered. "He will carry fifty gold coins and deliver them to the bandits as per your command."

"Good. Don't forget to remind them that this must keep this secret, and explain why we haven't paid the whole toll of passage yet."

Robard nodded. "I will," he said. Then he hesitated for a moment and looked at Gerald. "May I ask a question, my lord?"

"Go ahead."

"You've sent that lad, Gasper, to the east with a group of recruited refugees. Is this related to him?" Robard asked.

"Heh," Gerald chuckled softly. "You've finally connected it. You need broader vision, Robard. It took you a while to see part of what I'm doing. Have you noticed that Arthur never objected to my actions towards the bandits in the east? Sometimes you have to be adaptable and leave yourself some space to think. The first thing you thought of when I spoke about negotiating with bandits was honor. When was the last time you thought of victory, though?"

Robard slightly hung his head, ashamed. "I admit that I haven't been successful in fulfilling my duties, my lord. But I still don't believe in negotiating with bandits to fulfill them."

"I know. Thankfully, you're not the lord," Gerald said indifferently. Then he gestured for the knight to take his leave.

Robard bowed and left.

ß---------------------------------------------------------à

Gasper sat on a thick log, twirling a green stem in his hands. He was deep in thought. Black Dog had successfully invited the two crews in the north to witness the Big Mountain's 'betrayal'. Two representatives had arrived three nights ago. Black Dog had accompanied the two representatives to spy on the Big Mountain camp himself. But now it was the fourth night, and they hadn't returned yet. Gasper couldn't help but think that if Black Dog didn't find the proof he needed to convince the representatives, then nothing would prevent the bandit chief from venting on him.

Soon his fears were shattered, though. There were a few yells. Then he heard Yellow Dog shouting from the gates. "The chief is back!"

Gasper breathed a sigh of relief. Black Dog wouldn't return after just four nights if he didn't achieve his purpose. Everything was going in the right direction so far. He stood up, waiting a few moments until a small procession came into his view. Black Dog was in the lead, followed by two well-armed men, who Gasper knew were the representatives. A number of bandits came and followed the three to the cabin. Gasper noticed a furious frown on Black Dog's face. It didn't bode well that the bandit chief was fuming even after having his proof.

Gasper waited until Black Dog reached his cabin, then listened to the whispers of the dispersed procession of bandits that confirmed his thoughts. Black Dog had indeed found his proof. A rider from the Viscount had arrived at the Big Mountain camp again, and apparently, something else had happened too. Gasper tried to find out what it was but didn't have much luck.

It didn't take long for him to hear a loud argument coming from the chief's cabin. There were some furious yells and howls, easy to recognize as Black Dog's, coming out of the cabin. It took a while for the bandit chief to vent his anger. Then Gasper saw the two representatives coming out of the cabin with ugly faces.

"Gasper," Yellow Dog yelled as he opened the cabin's door from within. "The chief wants you."

"Yes," Gasper yelled back and trotted towards the cabin.

When he finally entered, he saw Black dog standing in a semicircle of lieutenants. "Those shits in the north think that they can stop me," the bandit chief growled. "They're out of excuses and now they want to delay it as much as possible. They're probably hoping that Big Mountain will notice something and prepare for me. That way we'll both wipe each other out and leave the east empty for them."

Fire Dog snorted. He was the only other ranked Warrior in the crew aside from Black Dog. He was an Earth Warrior with peculiar orange eyes and Black Dog's second in command. "If the east is ever empty, it will fall in the Silver crew's hand, not anyone else's," he said.

"It doesn't matter," Black Dog frowned. "The east will never be empty. It will be ours, no matter what. They asked for proof and they saw the rider. They even forced me to visit Big Mountain's camp and talk to that fucking ape over there."

There were a few gasps of surprise at the last words Black Dog said. "You visited the camp?" Yellow Dog asked.

"Yes," the bandit chief's mouth twitched. "The representatives insisted that maybe the Big Mountain chief hadn't agreed to any of the Viscount's proposals. They even said that it might be my imagination and there was no conspiracy. So we waited for a night after the rider left then pretended to be on a friendly visit while the representatives pretended to be two of my men. When we asked the Big Mountain if he was ever approached by the Viscount, he denied it and said that he had nothing to do with Ard. He lied right to our faces and those two cunts still want to prevent me from lopping his head off."

Gasper had stopped beside the door after entering. He listened intently to Black Dog's words. He had understood the unspoken rules among the bandit chiefs in the last few days. The crews weren't supposed to attack each other even if one was stronger than another. The reason was simple. It would not be good for anyone. The main beneficiary would be the Silver crew in the south because they were the strongest. Peace among the bandits would be better as it would keep the Silver crew in check. If Robben Luwin ever got too greedy, all the other crews could unite against him and his Silver crew.

Whether the two crews in the north were worried about that or were actually greedy for the east themselves wasn't very clear, but Gasper knew that Black Dog wasn't a patient man, not at times like these at least. The assault would happen soon.

Gasper was still thinking when Black Dog noticed him. "Gasper," the bandit chief said. "You're here. Come join us."

Gasper nodded and stepped forward.

Black Dog suppressed his earlier anger and smiled widely at his lieutenants. "This is our chance. If we control the east, everything will change. I would recruit the remnants of the Big Mountain's men. Then we'd have enough resources to recruit even more men and soon enough we'll match the Silver crew in numbers."

"What about the other crews? The representatives haven't agreed yet," one of the lieutenants said.

"We will begin right after the two cunts leave," Black Dog said, chuckling. "I'm sure they don't really care about the rules as they claim. When they first arrived, they offered to 'help' me deal with the Big Mountain crew if we could prove their collusion with the Viscount." Then the bandit chief sneered. "They wanted half of our current territory as compensation. They just want benefits. If I accepted their offer now, they'd agree on wiping out the Big Mountain crew. I'm sure of it."

"But if we do it anyway, the other crews might act against us, chief," Yellow Dog said, fidgeting as he stood.

Black Dog snorted. "Don't piss your pants just yet," he said.

Yellow Dog's face changed. "I didn't mean I was scared, chief," he said. "If the two crews in the north don't agree, though, we'll be under a lot of pressure. We need two other crews supporting us at least if we don't want to be condemned after attacking the Big Mountain."

Black Dog shook his head. "I don't care. I've already proven it to them. They can't condemn me later. The news will spread about the truth sooner or later. Even if they blame me for acting on my own, I will have certain proof of Big Mountain's actions when we capture some of his men. If the other crews still push me too much, I will even ally myself with Robben Luwin. With the whole east in my hands and Robben Luwin as my ally, no one would dare stand against me."

This time Fire Dog spoke up. "But allying ourselves with the Silver crew would bring us no good. Robben Luwin will swallow the other crews slowly and then it will be our turn eventually. He's too strong and ambitious."

"Heh," Black Dog laughed. "I agree. Allying ourselves with him isn't a wise choice, but it's a good threat. A threat that will work against the other fools if they try to pressure me or act against my crew. "

Everyone nodded. If the assault against the Big Mountain succeeded, then the Black Dog crew would be the second most powerful crew in the Tellus basin. If Black Dog allied himself with Robben Luwin after that, then no one would be able to stand against them. Even if all the other four crews united, they'd just be enough to keep themselves from being wiped out, but it wouldn't change that they'd be slowly eroded.

"Gasper," Black Dog said. "I didn't forget that you brought me this piece of news in the first place. I wouldn't have had this opportunity if you hadn't seen that rider. When I succeed in ruling the east, I will make you a lieutenant, but you have to prove yourself in the coming battle, if you want the men to recognize you."

"Thanks, chief," Gasper nodded. "I will fight with my all."

"Good," Black Dog smirked. "The two cunts will leave tomorrow. We'll start preparing after they leave and we'll attack in two nights after we're fully prepared. Fire Dog will stay here in my stead. I might have to spend a few days in the enemy's camp after I take it. I don't want the northern fools to move against the camp here, so keep it safe, Fire Dog."

"Yes, chief," Fire Dog said lazily.

"You can go have a good night's sleep now," the bandit chief said. "Our battle is coming soon."

Gasper and the lieutenants soon dispersed. Gasper returned to his tent to have a good sleep. He lied down, pondering about what would happen from now on. The Viscount hadn't told him much about what would be done next. He was just supposed to get the two crews to clash, and he was almost there. It was at this moment of pondering that he heard something moving behind him.

He quickly turned around to find a masked face an inch from his own, staring at him. His heart jumped for a moment as he reached for his sword, but soon he calmed down. It was Master Rudolf, the Viscount's steward. Gasper couldn't imagine how the old man had snuck into the camp and then into his tent. The bandits didn't have the tightest of patrols, but sneaking deep into their camp wasn't an easy feat.

"Why are you here?" Gasper asked as he sat up, eying the squatting old man. "Has something happened in our camp?"

The old man shook his head. "The Viscount sent a ranger to the camp," he said. "He wants to know if you've succeeded."

"I have," Gasper whispered, nodding. Then he eyed the sleeping mat that was across from his own. Each tent in the camp was shared between at least two bandits. If the other bandit came now, he would see Master Rudolf. Gasper didn't want to imagine what would happen then.

"Don't worry," Master Rudolf said. "He won't come yet. He's gambling."

Gasper nodded in relief. "Black Dog will attack the Big Mountain camp in two nights."

"I'll let the Viscount know," the old man said. "Will you be able to return to the forest camp before the battle?"

Gasper smiled wryly. "No," he said. "It isn't possible now. I have too many eyes on me. Even the chief is eying me now and is thinking of making me a lieutenant."

"Just keep yourself alive," the old man said.

"I will," Gasper nodded. "Have the people in the our camp given you any trouble?"

The old man sighed and pointed at his mask. "They can't fully trust me with this, and they've been wondering where you've gone, since you've recruited them yourself. There have been some violent dissidents, but their heads are now on spikes. Nobody has acted since then. You'll have to come back and take command again if we don't want the crew to disperse, though."

"I will. Do you know what the Viscount will do next?" Gasper said.

"No," the old man shook his head. "I've finished what I came for. I have to leave now."

Gasper nodded. "Be cautious. They could see you," he said. Gasper could swear that he got a smirk in response. He couldn't see it under the old man's mask, but he somehow sensed it from his eyes.

The steward slowly stood up then stepped out of the tent as if he was at home. Gasper found himself staring at the entrance of the tent after the old man disappeared.

Where did the Viscount get such an odd steward?

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Gerald woke up to the sound of someone at his door. A familiar soft rhythm of knocking had drifted to his ears while he slept, slowly waking him up. "Uncle Rudolf?" Gerald sat up, surprised. It was quite early.

"Yes," the serene voice of the old man came from outside.

Gerald stood up and walked to the door. When he opened it, he saw Uncle Rudolf in his regular steward attire, standing solemn. "Is it time?" Gerald asked, rubbing his eyes.

Uncle Rudolf nodded. "The Black Dog bandits are attacking the Big Mountain camp tomorrow. Most likely after nightfall."

Gerald let his old steward in and looked outside. Harrid hadn't woken up yet, and there were hardly any maids who had either. "Who knows that you're here?" he asked.

"A few guards and one maid," the old man said. "I'll be leaving before anyone else wakes up."

"Gasper?"

"Still at the Black Dog camp. He couldn't leave with me. He will have to join Black Dog's assault," the old man explained.

Gerald rubbed his chin. He had been planning for this. Although it was happening earlier than he'd thought it would, he wasn't unprepared. "Are the recruited refugees ready to see some blood?"

"They will manage, as long as it isn't too much," Uncle Rudolf said. "They haven't been trained for long, after all."

Gerald nodded. He didn't want them to do much anyway. They were essential for tomorrow's battle and for his future plans, but they weren't ready for a frontal battle with other bandits yet. "Let's take this to my study. We need a map, and I have to summon Arthur and Robard. It's good that you came early. I don't want Renard or my cousins to know that I might leave the castle with most of my men, at least not until I start moving." They soon left his sleeping chamber and headed to the study. On their way, Gerald passed by Harrid's chamber and knocked loudly.

A sleepy Harrid quickly emerged from within. He froze when he realized that it was Gerald who knocked."M-My lord?"

"Shush," Gerald said. "No time to talk. You know where to find Arthur and Robard. Go and summon both of them for me."

Harrid forcefully rubbed his eyes and straightened himself. "Yes, my lord."

Gerald nodded and strode with Uncle Rudolf to his study.

When they arrived, Gerald pulled out a map and spread it out. "This is the forest," he pointed at the green blur on the east of the map. "The Black Dog bandits will have to go south from near the forest. They will have to choose to pass by its east. If they pass by its west, they risk being noticed by us. Besides, their camp is closer to the northeast of the forest."

"I agree," Uncle Rudolf nodded. "During the past fortnight, they've never acted west of the forest. The last time they moved west of the forest was when they chased Gasper and those peasants."

"Hmm," Gerald closed his eyes to ponder for a moment. "Listen, Uncle Rudolf. First, you have to wait until Black Dog moves and brings his men south of the forest towards Big Mountain's camp. Then you'll have to send a few men to the west of the forest to keep an eye out just in case. You will take the rest of the recruits east of the forest to cut any links between their attacking force and their camp. When I attack with Robard, we'll need both sides to be clueless. Any messengers or fleeing bandits are for you to either capture or kill."

"Will you attack them while they battle each other in the south?"

"We will wait as much as we can. I want them to kill each other for me," Gerald said. "I know that it might do our reputation good if our men are the ones to lop both bandit chiefs' heads off, but it would harm more than help. Our men have been bloodied before, but they are limited. We can't lose many of them for the sake of reputation. I will let the bandits weaken each other, even if we end up claiming the glory for only one head."

"We can always claim that we killed both of them after the battle," Uncle Rudolf smiled.

"I don't think we'll need to," Gerald chuckled. Then there was a knock on the study's door. "You may come in," Gerald said.

Arthur soon entered, followed by an armored Robard. The head knight was always wearing his armor, even on an occasion as early as this one.

"Rudolf!" Arthur exclaimed as soon as he entered. "You've returned?"

The old steward's smile widened and he nodded. "Not for long, though."

"I see," Arthur said. Then he turned to Gerald, embarrassed that he hadn't greeted him first. "My lord," he said along with Robard.

"Arthur, Robard," Gerald nodded. "We have a pressing matter on our hands. But first give me a moment." He stepped out of the study and found Harrid. "Go find Yanna and bring her to my study," he told the boy.

"Yes, my lord," Harrid nodded and ran off.

Gerald returned back to his study. "Robard," he said. "Have you handled the matter of separating all the young Warriors in a corps of their own?"

"Yes," Robard said. "30 young Earth Warriors are now in a corps of their own, awaiting your direct commands."

"Good," Gerald said. "I suppose we'll see how good they are tomorrow then."

"My lord?"

"Well, Robard, you always wanted to wipe out the bandits," Gerald chuckled. "Tomorrow is the first chance of many you'll get. We will move against the bandits in the east tomorrow at night. I want you to prepare all 4 thousand men for battle starting now."

Robard stood aghast for a while, then he came back to his senses and punched his chest in a salute. "Yes, my lord!"

"Be subtle, though," Gerald continued. "There are some people that I don't want alerted. Prepare the men to be split up. I will lead 1000 while you will lead 3000. Come here to the map."

Robard stepped forward and checked the map. Gerald pointed at the western edge of the forest. "We will ride out to the forest in the east after nightfall tomorrow," he said. "Then we will stop at the west of the forest and split up. I will lead 1000 men and the new elite corps to the north towards the Black Dog camp, while you will lead 3000 men south towards the Big Mountain camp."

"Why the disparity in numbers, my lord?" Robard asked, puzzled.

"Because most of the bandits from both camps will be in the south, where you're going," Gerald grinned. "They're going for each other's necks now. You've seen to that with the riders you've sent."

Robard was shocked for a moment. "The riders? Is that why you negotiated with the bandits in the first place?"

"Yes," Gerald nodded. "It doesn't matter now. What matters is that they will be where we need them tomorrow. You'll lead 3 thousand men and surround the Big Mountain camp while they fight to the death. When they're nearly done, you'll finish the remnants off."

The middle-aged knight swallowed and slowly recovered from the earlier surprise. "Yes, my lord. I will do as you command."

"I will explain more later," Gerald said. "But now you have to start preparing all the men without alerting anyone. You only have a single day."

"Most of the men are at least half-ready, my lord," Robard said. "We've been that way since the late Viscount passed. The men are always ready to move."

"That's good to hear," Gerald said. "You may go and prepare now."

Robard saluted. "By your command, my lord." Then he left.

Gerald turned to Arthur. The old minister had been as shocked as Robard earlier by the news, but he'd recovered much faster. "Arthur, the castle will be in your care while I'm away. Keep an eye on the Duke's rat."

"I will, my lord."

"There is something else, though," Gerald said. "Might you have heard something about Grina, my cousin, recruiting a number of men recently?"

Arthur raised his brows slightly, eying Gerald thoughtfully. "I have heard some rumors," the old minister uttered. "But I believe they're baseless."

"They are not," Gerald said decisively. "She has been recruiting men under your nose. You know Robard and old Han aren't responsible for dealing with my sly relatives. They're both straightforward soldiers. My relatives were yours to keep an eye on from the beginning. If something happens while I'm away, I will hold you responsible. So keep a very close eye on Grina."

"Yes, my lord," Arthur said apologetically. "You can rest assured. I will have the garrison ready in case they try anything."

"Very well," Gerald said. "You may leave."

Arthur nodded and bowed then steadily walked out of the study.

Before Gerald could turn to Uncle Rudolf to speak again, Yanna entered the study followed by Harrid. He'd almost forgotten about her. "Yanna," he said. "It is a good time for you to meet your homeless acquaintances again. I want you to take as much coin as you need and keep an eye specifically on my cousin, Grina."

"Your cousin, milord?"

"Yes," Gerald nodded. "You've already told me that you had some of the homeless keep an eye on her, but now I want you to go and collect whatever they've heard so far as well as have even more people keep an eye on her. Do all you can. I want to know why she recruited those men. I am not expecting much from you," he looked at the little girl with a smile. "But if you surpass my expectations, I will reward you."

"I will do it, milord," the girl said.

"Take Harrid with you like last time," Gerald added. "You're to return in two to three days at most. You may leave now."

Yanna soon bowed deeply along with Harrid who stood beside her, then they left the study.

Gerald turned to his steward. "Don't forget, Uncle Rudolf. Spread the recruits as wide as you can east of the forest right after Black Dog passes by. I don't want one side to alert the other. It might ruin all our plans. We outnumber them, but if they escape and reunite with the other crews, we'll have future difficulties."

"And Gasper's role would be exposed too," the old steward said. "Don't worry. I will handle it. The recruited refugees are still dull-edged, but they're enough to handle any stragglers who come our way."

"Alright," Gerald nodded. "It's better that you return now. Renard has already taken note of your disappearance. I announced that you were ill. The less people that see you now the better."

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Gerald patted the horse he was riding as he watched his army pour out of the gates of Ard. The men trotted out of the gates and fell into formation. Ranks upon ranks formed in front of the gates, marching forward.

Robard was riding beside Gerald, his solemn face visible under his steel helmet. He gazed back as the last soldier came out of the gates, then he issued the command for a quick march.

It was just after dusk and Gerald had begun moving his army as soon as the sun dipped into the horizon. He had to be near the forest at midnight or even earlier. The Black Dog bandits would probably start moving soon, and they had to cover a much shorter distance to get to their enemies compared to Gerald's forces.

Gerald urged his horse forward into a trot as the army followed in loose ranks. About 500 light cavalry were following him and Robard. That was all the cavalry the army had. Gerald hoped they could make the best out of them. Not that it would matter. Nobody would be able to flee tonight. The bandits who run from battle would either run from the camp towards Black Dog's assault, or from the assault back to the camp. Both would be met by the freshly recruited refugees near the forest. Uncle Rudolf would be there to see to it.

The night got darker as they rode forward. Gerald watched the clouds slowly blocking the moon then moving on to let the latter's light descend again.

The march towards the forest had taken longer than he'd thought. It was past midnight when they finally saw the outline of the forest on the horizon. Gerald raised his hand, and Robard quickly turned around and signaled for the forces to stop. Soon the ranks slowed down and came to halt.

Gerald eyed the distant forest. "We'll stop here and split up. If we get closer to the forest, we'd probably be spotted by Uncle Rudolf's men. That is if they haven't spotted us already."

Robard nodded. "Yes, my lord. Do you still insist on taking only 1000 men? I can manage with 2000. The bandits don't amount to much."

"No need to take risks," Gerald shook his head. "If you begin battle when both crews still have men, then you'd be fighting almost 2000 bandits. Even if you come out victorious, it would be a victory fraught with losses. We have to take into account the possibility of that happening. My assault on their camp will be easier. They have limited men there. 1000 of our own would be enough, and I will have the elite corps too."

"By your command, my lord," Robard saluted. "I will begin arranging the men." The head knight quickly rode back towards the ranks and began separating the men. Gerald would lead 1000 men, including 100 out of the recently expanded 200 crossbowmen, 100 out of the 500 bowmen, and 150 out of the 500 cavalry. The rest would be footmen. In addition to the 1000 men, Gerald would have the elite corps sticking to him at all times. He hoped to make good use of them in this battle.

He had chosen to go to the easier battlefield deliberately. Gerald had never led men or been to battle before. Robard had sufficient experience to lead 3000 men and wipe out the numerous bandits. On the other hand, Gerald would use this opportunity to build his own experience. He'd read his share of books about wars and strategy, but real battle was something else.

Soon, Robard separated the men into the predetermined ranks. 1000 stayed, while 3000 tailed after Robard as he rode away to the southeast.

Gerald watched as 30 mounted men rode towards him. "My lord," they said in unison. "The elite corps awaits your commands."

Gerald swept his eyes over the 30 Warriors of the elite corps as well as the 1000 men waiting behind them and smiled. "Prepare yourselves for battle. We march to the northeast."

ß-------------------------------------------------à

Gasper sighed as he eyed the bandit lieutenants riding beside him. He'd been given a horse, which no other bandit could have except Black Dog and his lieutenants. It was a rewarding treatment from Black Dog. For Gasper, though, it was a burden. It meant that he was easier to spot, specially while riding beside Black Dog's lieutenants. He wouldn't be able to slip away during the march like he'd hoped.

Since Black Dog had him nearby now, then he would probably keep him nearby during the battle too. Gasper would be plunged into this battle for certain now.

He looked to the far right and saw the wide green of the woods. The bandit army of nearly 1000 was passing by the forest already, and soon they would arrive at Big Mountain's camp. Black Dog had had them march out of the camp a bit before midnight.

It was past midnight now and the forest soon fell behind them. After a while of riding, they arrived near the hill Gasper and Yellow Dog had used to spy on the camp before.

Black Dog quickly dismounted and his lieutenants did the same. Gasper hopped off his horse and approached the bandit chief. "Let's head up there," Black Dog whispered, pointing at the top of the hill.

The others nodded and crawled up the hill with their chief.

Gasper soon reached the top beside them. He stretched his neck and eyed the Big Mountain camp that was lit by torches. He spotted a few patrols, and some sentries on the watchtowers and the platforms of the palisade.

"We'll be moving first," Black Dog whispered. "We'll take out as many sentries as we can then the rest of the crew will charge. Yellow Dog will stay and lead the rest of the men. We'll head out and handle the sentries." He eyed his lieutenants and Gasper.

Everyone nodded including Gasper.

The hill wasn't steep on either side, so they didn't find it hard to descend towards the camp from the hill. They were soon on level ground, and they split up into pairs. Gasper was paired up with another lieutenant, and they sneaked towards one of the palisade walls.

A patrol of two was the pair's target. They slowly crawled as close as possible to the palisade. A sentry was overlooking their direction from the platform, but he was hardly paying any attention. Gasper and his companion slid through the grass and were soon twenty yards away from the moving patrol.

The bandit lieutenant gestured for Gasper to get to his feet and crouch. Gasper complied and both of them were ready to pounce on the clueless pair of patrollers. They slowly crept towards their targets and got within a few yards from them without alerting the sentry on the platform. The bandit lieutenant gestured for Gasper and the latter nodded. Then suddenly, they both leapt towards the two patrolling men.

Gasper had a dagger in his hand and he leapt with half his strength towards one of the bandits. Before the latter could even turn, Gasper had plunged his dagger into the back of his neck.

Gasper looked to his left and didn't find the other patroller doing any better. Black Dog's lieutenant had sliced open his neck. The bandit lieutenant confirmed that he had finished his target then turned to Gasper and nodded. Then he pointed at Gasper and at the sentry on the platform. And pointed at himself and at the palisade's corner.

Gasper understood and nodded. The bandit lieutenant was going around the corner, and Gasper was to handle the sentry quickly.

Gasper eyed the palisade for any deformities. It was a bit over a dozen yards away from him. Farther along the palisade, his target stood, half asleep. He soon found a spot where the palisade was partly worn down. The bandits hardly cared about maintenance after all. He moved carefully towards the spot until he was below it. Then he put strength into his legs and jumped up, quickly clinging to the worn down top.

Gasper pulled himself up and got onto the platform unnoticed. He eyed the sentry and found him unchanged. Then he slowly crept towards him along the platform. It was hard to get into a sentry's blind spot on a narrow platform like this. So Gasper relied on the lack of attention from the sentry, but he was sure that he would be noticed when he got within 10 yards of his target.

He was soon a bit over that distance from the sentry. Gasper pondered for a moment then stood up and walked towards the sentry leisurely. The latter quickly noticed him but said nothing at first.

"It's damn hard to sleep these days," Gasper grumbled as he walked. The sentry searched Gasper's face carefully. It was a dark night and even with torches it was sometimes difficult to recognize someone. The sentry hadn't been fully awake in the first place, so it took him a while to widen his eyes in shock. But Gasper was already two yards away from him. He used all his Warrior strength to leap forward like a predator and drive his dagger through the sentry's mouth before he could utter a sound.

A few faint gurgling noises came from the sentry's mouth, which Gasper assumed were attempted screams. He held the sentry closely as the latter uttered his final gurgles and closed his eyes.

He laid him down on the platform quietly and was about to move when he heard a yell from another corner of the camp. "INTRUDERS!"

It was a yell that invited many after it which shocked the sleeping bandits into grabbing their weapons. Gasper froze for a moment. Then he heard another yell from a familiar voice.

"Torch the tents!" It was Black Dog. Gasper nodded in agreement. Chaos was their best choice now until the rest of Black Dog's men arrived. He quickly grabbed a torch and threw it onto the nearest tent. It caught fire instantly but one bandit drilled out of it in a hurry. It was too late to kill them in a fire now. Most of them were awake, but it wouldn't harm to burn the tents to prevent them from rallying to each other.

Soon, the edges of the camp lit up as some tents caught fire and spread it to the neighboring ones. Gasper grabbed another torch and threw it into the cramped tents. Although he was easy to spot on the palisade, most of the camp's bandits were too busy escaping the fate of being burned alive or thanking the heavens that they had made it out.

It didn't take long for him to hear a yell from behind him. "Charge!" Gasper instantly recognized it as Yellow Dog's voice.

The assault had finally begun.

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Gasper watched as the Black Dog bandits charged. Some lighting up torches and others carrying wooden boards. He eyed the camp and its tents again. Thankfully, none of the shocked bandits had decided to find a bow amidst the burning chaos. Nobody would bother him until his aid arrives, and he wasn't going to dive into the thick of the enemy on his own, not while he was fighting for bandits.

Soon the sound of banging wood on wood echoed as the wooden boards were fixed on the palisade. The Black Dog bandits crowded the improvised ramps as they climbed up and onto the platforms, roaring the filthiest words they could muster. A few slipped or tripped while climbing the steep wooden ramps, but most of them made it into the camp.

It didn't take long for the Black Dog bandits to crowd the platform with Gasper. He gazed at the surrounding bandits as they descended into the camp. They charged at the Big Mountain bandits like mad hounds, their roars echoing and their arms flailing in violent madness.

The Big Mountain bandits had rallied into small groups around the camp in a futile attempt to defend. The defending groups, however, were too small to pose any true resistance, which only served to spur the attackers into charging with more zeal.

Gasper followed the charging bandits down from the platform and charged the nearest group of enemies. A few tents were burning around them as they fell into combat. Gasper didn't charge first. He waited until both sides clashed then hopped into the battle, snatching a lethal slash with his sword. The slash drew blood from an unwitting bandit's neck. It was too shallow to take the bandit's life but enough to shock him into stupor. Gasper used the chance and stepped closer delivering a ruthless stab that brought his enemy's life to an end.

After handling one enemy, he chose to slow down. The whole aim of the Viscount's plan was undoubtedly to weaken both the bandit crews through this battle. Gasper didn't want to help his side too much, even if the scales of battle had already been tipped. He snorted as the Black Dog bandits around him overwhelmed the outnumbered enemy. This was too easy. Hopefully, the Big Mountain bandits would get themselves together and mount some sort of counterattack. Otherwise, Black Dog would come out of this with an unscathed crew.

A loud roar ensued from the middle of the camp. Gasper turned towards the sound and saw the two-storey house in the middle of the camp, its door smashed open and a gigantic leg stepping out. The leg was followed by an arched body that was bent to fit through the door. No wonder Black Dog had called him an ape. The chief of the enemy camp was a gigantic man who held a comparably gigantic axe. He'd taken his time to don his heavy armor before going out to meet his enemies, his face drowned in fury.

Gasper gaped at the haunting apparition of a man as the latter rallied his men into a considerable number with his roars.

There was going to be damage to both sides as he'd hoped. He soon learned that wishes came bearing their weight, though. Black Dog's following yell brought him an eerie premonition.

"To me!" Black Dog yelled.

It was then that Gasper knew that he would probably be part of the final battle. He thought of disappearing right there and then, but a hand patted his back and shattered all his hopes of escaping the battle. He turned around to see Yellow Dog wearing his most triumphant grin.

"Let's go finish those fuckers," the bandit lieutenant said.

Had he not seen the towering behemoth that was the enemy's chief? Gasper wondered. Big Mountain wasn't just a gigantic mass of flesh. The man was a Sky Warrior just like Black Dog. There was no telling how many lives he would reap in this battle even if he fell in the end.

Gasper smiled wryly as he nodded and headed towards Black Dog's voice. It didn’t take him and Yellow Dog long to bring their group through the fiery tents and join Black Dog. The latter wasn't thrilled about Big Mountain's emergence and the rallied enemies.

As the two sides rallied their numbers and prepared for a final clash, Black Dog called out for his lieutenants and Gasper. "Listen up," the bandit chief said. "We outnumber them two to one now. Big Mountain himself is the only thing standing between us and controlling the whole east. As our men surround his, I want you to help me handle the damn ape."

"How are we going to do it, chief?" one of the lieutenants asked hesitantly.

Black Dog eyed him with a bit of suppressed anger and said, "you don't have to fear him. I will grab his attention. You just have to flank and injure him. Don't give him a chance to relax during our combat." Then the bandit chief met the eyes of his subordinates to confirm their resolve.

Gasper nodded with false determination as he cursed in his heart. The worst had come.

Another roar came from Big Mountain's side. Then the enemy started moving to counter Black Dog's men. "I should have known that you were scheming something, you stinking dog," Big Mountain yelled at Black Dog as he charged. "You're going to die today!"

"Haha," Black Dog responded with laugh as he readied his men. "You think I'm the one going to die today? Why don't you look around?"

The distance between the two sides was considerable. The Black Dog bandits formed themselves into the widest line they could in the cramped camp. The Big Mountain bandits on the other side attempted to make up for their lack of numbers by forming a wedge with their chief as its spearhead.

Both sides trotted then broke into a run as they charged at each other. Gasper was near Black Dog and his lieutenants as they charged. They were in the middle of the thick ranks of attackers.

There was a meeting of yells and roars between the two formations of bandits before a loud clash of metal and wood. Shields splintered and swords clashed as both sides momentarily merged into each other. The first few to clash on both sides were the most unfortunate as most of them fell. Gasper was among the third rank of men along with Black Dog.

They watched as Big Mountain cut through the first two ranks of Black Dog's men like a raging bull. His axe danced around, dismembering the nearest of Black Dog's men without the slightest resistance. The giant man's subordinates followed him and drove their wedge through Black Dog's ranks.

It was then that Black Dog and Big Mountain came face to face for the first time in the night's battle. Big Mountain paused for a moment then charged with red eyes towards Gasper's chief.

Gasper jumped to the side to avoid the mad charge while Black Dog foolishly braced himself for the clash. The bandit lieutenants followed Gasper's example and hurried aside to avoid the deadly charge. They watched their chief stand his ground with a robust shield in one hand and a long sword in the other.

There was no doubt that the Big Mountain bandits would cease to exist tonight. They were outnumbered and demoralized. But would Big Mountain be able to take Black Dog with him to the grave, though? Gasper wondered.

A moment of silence among the bandit lieutenants preceded the two chiefs' clash. Big Mountain's axe came from below, aiming to tear Black Dog in two. The latter fixed his shield to the ground as the axe slammed into it and threw him into the air. Black Dog had used the force from his adversary's swing to throw himself backwards and create some distance.

The raging bull of a chief took the bait and followed Black Dog, locking himself into a tight encirclement. Gasper and the bandit lieutenants stepped closer to seal the circle and pressure Big Mountain, who didn't seem surprised by his predicament. Gasper confirmed that the enemy chief had already given in to his fate and was only hoping to kill Black Dog before dying himself. No one could stand against numbers, though Gasper suspected that Big Mountain could have escaped if he had tried. He would have only needed some luck. Unfortunately, his fury had blinded him.

Most of the bandit crews had been in the Tellus basin for years. Their chiefs had spent their years building up their wealth and numbers. Today, Big Mountain had lost all that, and his response wasn't to flee but to vent his rage.

Black Dog chuckled as he circled his larger opponent. Big Mountain didn't like the notion and charged again without a care in the world. Black Dog had dropped the broken shield and was holding onto his long sword cautiously. When Big Mountain charged, Black Dog parried the descending strike with skill.

One of the bandit lieutenants approached from behind Big Mountain and slashed at his waist. The latter noticed him a moment too late and tried to evade, but the end of the former's sword barely connected. The tip of the sword failed to cut through the thick armor and got stuck. Big Mountain turned with a grin and slashed with his axe, cleaving Black Dog's subordinate in half. Blood bloomed out of the lieutenant's body as he fell in two separate parts.

Black Dog frowned and tried to use the opportunity to leap for a strike, but Big Mountain turned with apparent vigilance and deterred him.

None of the encircling men dared to reattempt the foolishness of their dead companion, and the combat fell into a momentary stalemate. Gasper himself wasn't planning to approach the furious Sky Warrior. He just filled his position in the encirclement and stayed as inconspicuous as possible. To hell with Black Dog, he wasn't going to sacrifice himself for the damn bandit chief.

The stalemate was broken by a whistling sound, followed by an arrow that buried itself in Big Mountain's back. Black Dog's numerous men had succeeded in eroding the wedge Big Mountain had driven through their ranks, and they were now turning their attention towards the still standing gigantic chief.

Gasper doubted that the arrow pierced more than the outer flesh after going through the enemy chief's armor, but it was enough to surprise him. Black Dog made use of the opportunity and leapt forward with a quick thrust that pierced into Big Mountain's knee. The latter wobbled slightly while punching with his left fist towards Black Dog who evaded nimbly.

A few more arrows came from the same direction. Two of them bounced off the armor and fell harmlessly but forced Big Mountain into raising his arm to cover his exposed head.

Black Dog tried to use the identical opportunity again and approached, but Big Mountain proved to be more vigilant this time as he grabbed the axe with both hands and swung it. Black Dog stepped back quickly as the giant axe cut through his previous place.

More and more arrows began to head for Big Mountain. The archers were hoping to gain merit for his death. The gigantic chief sensed his death looming close and took a large step towards Black Dog, swinging his axe again.

Black Dog hopped back, making distance as he watched the vicious swing of Big Mountain coming down towards emptiness. Unexpectedly, Big Mountain let go of his axe in the last moment. The axe flew towards Black Dog, but the latter awkwardly avoided it with a sacrifice of his balance.

He hadn't expected Big Mountain to madly throw himself at him right after the axe, though. Black Dog's eyes only widened in shock as the gigantic body grabbed onto him and fell on the ground.

Big Mountain held onto Black Dog firmly then pulled out his dagger, stabbing hastily towards the latter's face. Something gave him pause, though. It was Black Dog's long sword that stabbed into his neck. He looked down at the sword that pierced his throat as his dagger lost its direction and stabbed into Black Dog's shoulder instead of his heart.

The gigantic man hadn't lost all life yet. He tried to grab Black Dog again but failed as the latter slipped from under him and leapt away.

Black Dog made some distance between himself and his enemy as he watched the latter dying. Then he eyed his severely injured shoulder with a grimace.

Big Mountain persisted in his kneeling position while supporting himself with his hand for a few moments. He tried to push himself up but failed every time. Blood poured out of his mouth and neck as he choked on it, the red in his eyes intensifying while he stared at Black Dog with unreconciled hatred. The last thing he did before falling down motionless was a weak attempt to curse.

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Black Dog left the dead enemy chief lying on the ground and led his close subordinates to the two-storey house. "Mount his head on a spike and let them see it," he said.

Sounds of metal clashing and faint yells of battle were still coming from the edges of the camp. There was still some resistance to be eliminated until the whole camp was under control, but Big Mountain's death would seal the matter.

Gasper followed Black Dog along with most of the lieutenants. Yellow Dog had run off to handle the resisting enemies. Black Dog, on the other hand, was now going to check his spoils. It was certain that most of the wealth in the camp would be in Big Mountain's residence.

They walked through the broken door of the house and the bandit lieutenants spread out to search for the anticipated wealth. Black Dog stood in the middle of house, leisurely looking around with a triumphant smile. His left shoulder was still bleeding, but he was taking in the victory without a care.

Gasper pretended to search around with the others as he watched the ecstatic bandit chief. The latter was beaming with fulfillment when the faint yells from outside thickened into loud shouts and shrieks. Black Dog frowned and listened intently, while the lieutenants around him slowed their search and waited in doubt.

Soon, Yellow Dog ran into the house with a pale face. "Chief," he panted. "They . . . they've surrounded us. Everywhere. They're attacking, chief. Too many."

"Calm the fuck down," Black Dog yelled. "Who are they? And how many are there of them?"

"They bear the Viscount's banners," Yellow Dog said, still panting. "They're everywhere. We couldn't count them, but they're more than us. Many more than us."

Black Dog gritted his teeth and looked around. "Go and reinforce the men around the camp," he yelled at his lieutenants. "Form the best defense you can."

The bandit lieutenants complied hurriedly and ran out of the house, leaving only Gasper, Black Dog, and Yellow Dog inside.

Gasper wasn't too surprised. It was one of the scenarios he'd anticipated. He'd expected the Viscount to make use of the opportunity and eliminate the bandits in the east, and he was right. He looked at the back of the bandit chief and wanted to sneer but held it in.

Black Dog was silent for quite a while before taking a deep breath. "So . . . you take me for a fool, huh?"

Gasper felt as if all of the blood in his body froze. A surging fear grabbed his chest as soon as he heard Black Dog's words.

The bandit chief turned around with a furious grin while glaring at Gasper, then he lunged at him with his sword and slashed.

Despite the shock, Gasper had raised his sword once fear had gripped him. It proved to be wise, because he used the raised sword to block Black Dog's ferocious slash. The block was only half successful as the strike pushed him backwards and his back hit the wooden wall.

"You bring me the news of the Viscount's rider," Black Dog laughed. "And I attack Big Mountain's camp. Then the Viscount's men somehow surround us here." The bandit chief pointed his sword at Gasper. "An awful coincidence, don’t you think?"

Yellow Dog who was standing at the side, gaping, finally came out of his stupor as he heard Black Dog's words. He raised his sword and pointed it at Gasper too.

Gasper winced from the pain in his back and balanced himself. He stared back as Black Dog leveled his sword towards him. Then he charged at the bandit chief with a yell.

Black Dog was visibly surprised by Gasper's courage then lunged at him as well. Another clash ensued between the swords and Gasper was pushed back again.

This time, however, he changed his direction and hopped out of a window. This wasn't a battle he could win. Not when he was outmatched in both quality and quantity. He ran away from the house as Black Dog's roar followed him. He hoped that he could lose him among the burned tents and the confused bandits in the camp.

Gasper dashed through the camp with the palisade as his target. He took a few turns to confuse his pursuer, but he could still hear him giving chase. Suddenly, he heard a dense whistling sound from above.

Damn it!

He dived down and grabbed a fallen shield for cover. Then a rain of arrows fell on the camp. Only one arrow hit the shield Gasper had raised over his head, but nothing else came near him. He looked back and saw Black Dog deflecting an arrow then heading in his direction and closing the distance between them in an instant. Gasper stood up holding his sword and preparing for combat.

"You took two strikes from me without losing your sword," Black Dog said. "I never thought that you were a Warrior as well. How much did the Viscount pay you for my head?"

Gasper frowned as he eyed the Sky Warrior warily. "I was never one of you to begin with, you fool."

Black Dog heard the words and his face fumed with a furious red. Gasper could even see a vein bulging on his forehead. "Cursed bastard. I won't let you make it back to your Viscount. Let's die together then."

"You want to kill me?" Gasper smiled, trying to annoy the bandit chief. "Just like Big Mountain wanted to kill you? We both know how that ended, though."

Black Dog gritted his teeth and attacked. He begun with two quick thrusts that Gasper avoided at the expense of some of his balance. The bandit chief followed with a wide sweep that Gasper blocked with all his strength.

Gasper eyed his numb arm then looked at Black Dog's left shoulder. "Your bleeding is getting worse," he said. "Why don't you just surrender. The Viscount might let you live."

"How many times do you think you can fool me, you fucking runt?" Black Dog growled. "I will take your petty life tonight. Don't think that you can change that."

Gasper braced himself as Black Dog lunged at him again. He blocked a slash then avoided another thrust. He tried to counter with a swing of his own, but the bandit chief blocked it easily and struck at him again. Gasper blocked once more as his joints ached. Each strike increased Black Dog's superiority, even though he was injured. In single combat, the disparity between Sky Warriors and Earth Warriors was easy to distinguish. Only a godly swordsman could stand his ground against a superior Warrior. Gasper was just a good swordsman, but he didn't fancy himself a god of the sword. He knew that he had to come up with something to survive. Perhaps he could hold on until the Viscount's men enter the camp and interfere with their combat. If only he had an attribute, he would have had the advantage over the injured opponent. But a Warrior attribute was just a distant dream for him. He gritted his teeth and prepared to survive no matter what.

It was then that he heard the intense whistling sound again. He glanced above at the falling arrows then looked at Black Dog. The bandit chief had braced himself and was ready to deflect the descending arrows. Gasper saw the shield on the ground but hesitated.

Fuck it.

He lunged at Black Dog with a series of quick slashes. The bandit chief hadn't expected a suicidal approach from Gasper and he stepped back in surprise, hesitating whether to block Gasper's attacks or deflect the coming arrows.

In the end, he managed neither. The arrows were too close for either of them to block now. An arrow buried itself in Black Dog's leg, while two others pierced through Gasper's armor and into his shoulder and ribs. The arrows didn't stop his flurry of attacks, though. The first slash was randomly blocked by Black Dog, but the following two strikes connected, drawing blood from the bandit chief's right shoulder and face.

Black Dog held his bloody face and roared then charged at Gasper with a heavy swing of his sword.

Gasper evaded the mindless swing and stepped to the side. Then he narrowed the distance between them and drove his sword through Black Dog's ribs.

Both of them fell down, but only one was alive. Gasper pulled out the arrow that was stuck between his ribs as the pain shot through his body. Then he pulled the other one stuck in his shoulder which was slightly less painful.

The roars of battle were already echoing from the edges of the camp. The gates of the camp were probably still open and the ramps still fixed on the palisade. The camp had been waiting to be attacked, and the Viscount's men overran it like a sweeping wave.

When Gasper picked himself up from Black Dog's corpse, he heard the sound of metal behind him. He turned and saw Ard's soldiers surrounding him, their blades pointed at him. He was drenched in Black Dog's blood from head to toe, unrecognizable. That was good, though, since the Viscount wanted him to pose as a bandit.

He dropped his sword. "I surrender. Take me to the Viscount or your commander. I have something that they certainly want."

The surrounding soldiers hesitated. It seemed that their commands were to kill all the bandits they met. But an older one among them spoke. "What are you waiting for? Bring him to Sir Robard. Let him decide what to do with him."

The soldiers nodded then approached Gasper and dragged him towards the outside of the camp. He felt a slight dizziness as his injuries bled then a calm call of comfort summoned him.

He accepted the summons and let go of his consciousness.

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Gerald eyed the approaching rider with anticipation. He'd brought his men to a stop before getting into the range of Black Dog's camp. After that, he'd sent riders from the elite corps to check the enemy's numbers and defense. It was almost dawn and someone was finally bringing him news.

The rider came to a stop before Gerald and saluted. "Your lordship," the young Warrior said. "The bandits have spread their patrols wide around the camp. It would be very difficult for us to draw closer without being noticed."

"What are they alert for?" Gerald muttered to himself. Then he looked at the rider again. "How many are there of them?" he asked him.

"Less than 200, my lord."

"So," Gerald sighed helplessly. "Sneaking up on them isn't possible." If possible, he didn't want a fair battle. He wanted to wipe them out before they knew what hit them, but it seemed too farfetched now. "Less than 200, huh?"

He looked at the one thousand men standing ready behind him. He could just command them to charge the bandits and slaughter them with a five to one advantage, but he had another idea in mind. "Summon the rest of the elite corps, and bring me the captain of this regiment." Ard's army was formed out of four regiments, each having 1000 men and a captain to command them. Gerald had taken over the command for this regiment when they split up with the main force, but the captain would now come into play again.

Soon the captain arrived, a man of similar age to Robard with graying temples. "My lord," the captain saluted. "Command me."

Gerald nodded to the captain. "You'll take command of the regiment again," he said. " I will attack the camp with the elite corps while you will hold your ground. Only your cavalry will move. Have them circle the bandit camp and wipe out the patrols we don't manage to kill."

The captain hesitated for a moment then saluted again. "By your command, my lord."

"If the combat doesn't end quickly and draws on for too long, then you can charge the camp with the rest of the men," Gerald continued. "Other than that, let the elite corps handle it." He'd chosen the easier battlefield but hadn't expected it to be too easy. It presented an opportunity for him, though. He could sharpen the elite corps with this skirmish. He believed that the elite corps was the future of the house. Perhaps someday it could grow into a thousand-man corps. It was said that the Royal Guard of the Maric Kingdom was full of Warriors of the highest quality. Gerald saw in it something else, though. Instead of building a corps to protect the king on the battlefield, he wanted to build a corps that fights on the battlefield. Just like horsemen charge together and infantrymen charge together, the elite corps of Warriors could fight as a single unit, hopefully cutting through regular soldiers like a knife through butter.

"We will be ready to assist you, my lord," the captain said.

"Good," Gerald smiled. "Go prepare the cavalry then."

The captain saluted and rode towards the waiting regiment.

The elite corps had grouped up in front of Gerald by the time he finished talking to the captain. He kept his smiled and raised his hand for attention. "I've named you the elite corps for a reason," he said, his voice mild but loud enough for all thirty of them to hear. "You're the most talented and promising of my men. Tonight you have to earn your name, though. If you want the treatment that is worthy of your name, then show your worth in this battle. The elite corps alone will attack the camp under my leadership. We will clean all the patrols we meet and only leave our horses when we mount the platform on the palisade. This bandit camp falls today."

The young Warriors drew their swords and raised them, withholding their shouts of agreement lest the enemy is alerted. Touching their sense of pride was the right choice, Gerald believed. If you treated a group of people differently because they were better than others, then they'd naturally appreciate it. Nobles were the best testimony to that belief. Giving the young men of the elite corps a hope for improvement now would encourage them enough to go into battle outnumbered, even if there were better choices at hand. They wouldn't look back at the waiting regiment and scorn the idea of attacking on their own. They would embrace it.

Gerald drew his sword and trotted ahead of the thirty riders while they formed up behind him. "Spread out as much as you can. It's better that we sweep as many patrollers as possible.

The Warriors complied and spread their line out with a few yards between each two of them.

"Don't slow down until we reach the palisade. Ready your shields for their arrows," he said, pulling up the shield that was fixed to the side of his horse.

The Warriors straightened themselves and raised their shields.

"Ready yourselves," he breathed in, his mind tranquil. His first battle was coming. "Charge!" Gerald roused his horse into a trot that quickly turned into a galloped, and his thirty elites followed him.

The camp wasn't within eyeshot, but it wasn't far. He gazed at the horizon intently as the sky brightened with the rays of dawn. After a few moments of galloping, the camp was within his sight. Their watch wasn't alerted yet. It wouldn't be long before they were, though.

Gerald saw the first patrol on their path in the distance. They were three men on foot, walking in apparent boredom. Suddenly, they seemed to hear something then turned to look in his direction.

Horror appeared on their faces as they saw the three dozen riders approaching. Gerald heard them yell "enemies!" with reluctant despair on their faces.

The other patrols were alerted, and it seemed that the sentinels at the camp were too. But it didn't matter, Gerald and his men were already upon the patrol. He rode one of them down with a slash of his sword. The bandit lost half of his neck before he could utter a cry. The Warriors following Gerald didn't spare the other two of the patrol.

He looked beside him to see the wide line of the elite corps sweeping several other patrols along their charge. Then he looked ahead at the camp. There was still a considerable distance between them and the palisade. He saw the bandits on the platform and watchtowers readying their arrows. "Shields!" Gerald yelled.

The Warriors of the elite corps seemed to have noticed the enemy archers as well and they readied their shields. It didn't take a moment for the first wave of arrows to fall upon them. Gerald raised his shield and received several arrows. He heard a piercing sound as he looked down at his lightly armored horse. An arrow had pierced the armor near its ribs, but the disciplined horse kept its gallop with a pained neigh. Gerald's subordinates weren't as lucky, though. He saw a few of their horses neighing loudly and slowing down, falling slightly behind the charging line. Then he saw one of the horses falling down and throwing its rider like a catapult. The rider had expected something of the sorts and used the force of the throw to leap ahead, land, then roll a few times. The roll didn't look comfortable, but it kept him running, even if with a grimace of pain.

Gerald looked ahead again. The bandits were readying for another volley. He braced himself before he heard the whistling sound of arrows again. This time most of them fell behind the line of attackers. Only a few arrows lodged themselves in the shields of his Warriors. Gerald breathed a sigh of relief. There was no time for the bandits to loose anymore arrows. Gerald and his men were already a dozen yards away from the palisade.

The line of attackers pulled the reins of their horses abruptly when they reached the palisade, provoking a wave of loud neighs. Some horses reared up but their riders managed to handle them quickly.

Gerald and his Warriors then leveraged the height of their horses to leap over the palisade and onto the platform with their swords ready.

There was a collective yell from the bandits as the agile Warriors unexpectedly went from their horses directly to the platform, then there was the sound of metal clashing with metal. It didn't take more than a few moments for the all bandits on the platform to fall down in pools of blood. Gerald hadn't even met an opponent when he leapt to the platform. His warriors had handled the sparse enemies quickly.

Gerald spotted more bandits coming from below. "Two of you are to handle the ones in the watchtowers. As for the rest, don't let them group up. Kill them as soon as they arrive. Descend!"

The Warriors of the elite corps roared with zeal then climbed down the platform into the grounds of the camp. The approaching bandits weren't in the most organized of formations. They were randomly charging at the sparsely numbered attackers. Perhaps they hadn't realized yet that all of the attackers were Warriors.

Gerald moved forward and met a charging bandit with a parry. The bandit's rusty blade was pushed to the side, then Gerald stepped in and smoothly stabbed him in the heart. As he pulled his sword out of the falling bandit, the sight gave him pause. This was the first man he killed. He'd seen blood before, but he'd never killed before.

At least it was a bandit. They deserve no pity, I think.

He straightened up again and jumped into the fray. The Warriors of the elite corps were grinding down the charging bandits like slaughtering pigs. Only when one of the Warriors was outnumbered would he fall into a stalemate with his opponents before one of his brothers in arms interfered to support him.

Gerald clashed with another bandit. He stabbed the youth in the neck and the boy fell gurgling. He hadn't even exchanged a few swings with him. The boy had awkwardly held his spear and tried to defend in vain.

Gerald eyed the dying boy and something ached in his heart. Then he stepped closer with unsteady hands and released him from his suffering with a stab to the heart. He pulled his sword out weakly, his arm slightly trembling as he watched the boy close his eyes.

Curses, how old was he? Gerald gritted his teeth and turned towards the other bandits. There was no time to slow down. The young were doomed to bleed for the old. He shook his head with a pained expression then looked around the narrow filed of combat. His men were beginning to get pressured. They had probably killed half of the bandits by now, but they were still outnumbered at least two to one. A group of bandits had formed up and charged them together.

Gerald spotted a man among them who seemed to be in command. The man was arranging the bandits into slightly more organized ranks. He saw him mouthing a few yells then joining the front of the battle.

Gerald moved closer, hoping to kill their commander and raze their morale. As soon as Gerald stepped closer, the bandit commander noticed him. The latter seemed to have recognized Gerald as the commander of the attack as well, probably from the sight of the valuable armor on him. Gerald was donning black armor crafted from a mix of steel and leather thick enough to stop an arrow. He'd chosen the mostly leather armor to preserve his agility.

Gerald was bracing himself for a clash with his opponent when he saw a few bandits flanking him, but his Warriors quickly came to his aid from the sides. Though pressured, they didn't forget to support their lord. Gerald eyed the bandit in front of him with a weighing gaze. The latter was too calm and unhurried, keeping a distance between them.

Gerald steeled his resolve to act first. He would have to defeat his adversary as soon as possible. He had to put an end to this melee.

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

While the battle continued, Gerald and the commander of the bandits were facing off. Gerald glanced at his subordinates and found them having the worst of the fight. They were keeping themselves alive, but some of them seemed to be wounded already. Each Warrior was at least holding off two bandits. If the bandits had known how to fight any better, the melee could have gone much worse for Gerald's men. Fortunately, the brigands weren't the best of combatants.

Gerald eyed his opponent warily. The bandit was too calm for comfort. He circled Gerald slowly with a steady sword.

Gerald struck first. He stepped forward and delivered a slash to test the waters.

The bandit easily deflected it then responded with a strike of his own, giving Gerald a not-so-welcome surprise. The bandit commander was a Warrior which wasn't much of a shock to Gerald. But what he realized when he blocked the bandit's strike was what shocked him. It was too strong. His wrist's ached from the bandit's unexpected slash.

"You have an attribute?!" Gerald asked, his eyes unbelieving. It was impossible for a bandit. Any commoner could get their hands on a Warrior manual if they saved enough gold. Attribute manuals, on the other hand, were impossible to get with just money. Royals, nobles, and very powerful families had hereditary attribute manuals, like the Tellus family's lightning and Earth manuals. A special family like Uncle Rudolf's had a dark attribute manual, and even that was considered peculiar. Most noble families had only one attribute manual.

The bandit didn't answer Gerald's question. He leapt forward and delivered two slashes for Gerald to block. Gerald received the two slashes begrudgingly. His opponent was an Earth Warrior with fire attribute. An attribute known for its offensive power. "You've mastered an attribute. That means you have the manual here?" Gerald's eyes sharpened as he asked. Gaining another manual for the family was nothing short of a great achievement. He still couldn't believe that a bandit might have one, no matter what his past was.

This time the bandit chuckled. "My chief has been begging me for that manual since I joined him. You think I'd leave it lying around for him to take? You'll never find it, no matter how hard you search. "

Gerald gritted his teeth. It was true. Something that valuable would never be lying around. He quickly regained his focus and held his sword tight.

Only one way to handle a fire attribute Warrior.

Gerald leapt forward and slashed. The first slash was followed by second one, and the second by a third. A flurry of attacks quickly descended on the bandit who struggled to block and didn't have space to parry. He wasn't the only one with an attribute. Gerald's was lightning. Speed was his forte.

Gerald didn't stop attacking for a moment. He'd delivered over ten strikes in a few moments and he continued. His enemy was a destructive swordsman with an attribute made for attack. He couldn't give him room to breathe. As long as the bandit never attacked, his attribute was as good as his shit. Useless.

The bandit sensed Gerald's intention and frowned, then he stepped to the side with a feint and softly blocked one of Gerald's strikes, locking swords with him for a moment.

Gerald snorted as his sword stilled into a clinch with his opponent's. The bandit was trying to counter attack. Gerald wouldn't let him. He stepped slightly to the side then forward, delivering a fist to the bandits chin. The fist hardly grazed the bandits face, but it was enough to disorient him. His sword pulled back from the clinch but stayed in Gerald's way.

Gerald followed with a kick to the man's gut. This one struck squarely and painfully. The bandit stepped back with a groan then lifted his sword again, infuriated. He moved forward with intent, striking from above with his sword. Gerald moved and parried calmly. Then he countered with two quick thrusts. The bandit stepped back, narrowly escaping the tip of Gerald's sword but losing his attacking advantage.

Gerald pressed his advantage with another flurry of attacks that the bandit struggled to stop. One strike slipped by the latter's defense like a bolt of lightning and slashed his chest. He winced in pain and stumbled back as Gerald stepped forward and sharpened his attacks.

Gerald finally sensed weakness in his opponent and decided to deliver the final strike. He stepped forward, feinting a high sweep. The bandit raised his sword to block it but received nothing. Gerald had crouched down and was delivering his real sweep from below.

The bandit's face turned ugly as he realized that it was too late to step back and he yelled in pain as the sword slashed through his knees. His pain was turned into anger and he tried to strike down with his sword onto Gerald's head, but Gerald rolled to the side as if he had anticipated it.

The bandit soon lost all semblance of balance and limped as he moved. Gerald got to his feet and didn't give the bandit any hope. He leapt forward, thrusting with his sword. The bandit parried, but Gerald followed with two quick slashes. One slash was narrowly blocked, but the other struck the bandit's neck squarely from the side and drew blood.

Gerald stopped his attacks and watched the bleeding bandit. "If you tell me where it is, I might just let you live."

The bandit had knelt down and dropped his sword, holding his bleeding neck. He spat on Gerald's feet. "I'm a dead man. You think I have ten men's worth of blood in me? Or do you take me for a fool? I've left the manual for those who deserve it, and you'll never get your mushy noble hands on it."

Gerald stepped forward and snorted. "These mushy noble hands defeated you in fair combat." Then he stepped forward and slashed twice more, decapitating the bandit.

He'd heard about what he was supposed to do now, but it was still his first battle. Triumphantly raising the enemy commander's head wasn't something that would come naturally to him, not yet anyway. He grabbed the bandit's head by its hair then stepped back into the ranks of his men. Some of the bandits had already noticed that their commander was dead and were disheartened.

Gerald saw a Warrior next to him besieged by three bandits and struggling. He moved to his side and handed him the head. "Show it to them," he told his subordinate. Then he fended off the attacks of the three bandits himself.

The Warrior who accepted the head quickly climbed back onto the platform and raised it with a victorious shout. Some of the bandits had already dropped their weapons and ran when they saw him climbing up with the head. Others were still in shock. None of them would successfully escape, though. There were cavalry outside the camp, sweeping the surroundings. And even if they made it through the cavalry, they'd probably end up in Uncle Rudolf's net.

Gerald quickly found himself fighting one bandit instead of three. He quickly dispatched the vile soul and moved on to the next. The elite corps took heart and moved forward, crushing the remaining resistance steadily. Soon, all the bandits were running and all the Warriors were chasing.

It didn't take long for the battle to come to an end. The regiment's captain brought his troops into the camp as the elite corps finished off any remnants inside. Gerald summoned the captain for the cleanup.

"Have the men search every inch of the camp," Gerald said. "I want every copper in here. The bandits might have hidden or buried their gold. Dig and find it. Also, if any of the men find a manual here, I'll reward them." He said that but he didn't hold much hope for finding the manual. He'd given this command in case the bandit had been lying out of his teeth.

Gerald's troops split themselves in two. One half searched the camp and the other kept watch outside. The elite corps was resting after a hard fought battle, and Gerald was sitting with them. "You've done well today," he said. Nine of his Warriors were seriously wounded and several others had cuts or bruises. But they were Warriors. All thirty of them would live after this. Healing was never an issue for Warriors unless they were mortally wounded. The severely injured ones were bandaged and no longer bled. It was better than he'd expected. "You will all be rewarded once we're back."

After Gerald spoke, he lay down on his back amidst the tents. He'd refused to rest in the cabin and had chosen to rest amongst his men. They had fought well.

Now he just had to wait until the camp was cleaned up then burned down. He'd thought about leaving the camp for Gasper's crew, but it would bring too much suspicion from the other crews. No lord would leave a bandit camp standing after conquering it.

He sighed. His men had one whole day to suck every coin and valuable out of the camp. Then the next day before dusk, they'd meet Robard's forces west of the forest.

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The rays of morning began a new day, signaling the end of Gerald's stay in Black Dog's camp. He'd decided to receive the news from the captain in the cabin.

"My lord," the captain saluted. "Our gains from the camp are plentiful. We have collected coin that amounted to 2,537 gold. We've also found some other robbed valuables that could be sold later for coin. The camp didn't lack grain, so we gained a considerable amount of that as well."

Gerald scratched his chin and nodded. "So we could say that we've earned about 3000 gold coins," he said while humming. If Robard also gained a similar amount, then Ard's treasury would fare a lot better than before. The bandit extermination in the east didn't come without its price in gold, though. He'd had to spend almost 1000 gold for this small campaign against the bandits, leaving his treasury with less than 6000 gold. The bandits were wealthy as he'd expected, which was good news. Their gold would alleviate Ard's needs for the time being. "No news of a manual?" Gerald eyed the captain.

"I'm afraid not, my lord. I made sure that the soldiers kept an eye out for manuals, but none were found. Not even the cheapest Warrior manual was found here."

"Alright," Gerald sighed. "It doesn't matter anymore. Prepare for departure."

The captain saluted again. "Yes, my lord."

Gerald's troops grouped up outside of the camp before noon. He was on his horse when the camp was finally torched. Its palisade was like a wall of fire, and more flames were consuming the innards of the camp. The tents inside had made it too easy to burn the place down.

He signaled with his hand and the troops started moving towards the southwest. The captain rode slightly behind Gerald while the elite corps rode on the other side.

They rode until the afternoon. That was when they reached the meeting point west of the forest. Robard's men hadn't arrived yet, though. Gerald had to wait until a bit before dusk for Robard to arrive leading his 3000-man army.

"My lord," Robard saluted upon arrival, his forces falling into the ranks of Gerald's.

"Robard," Gerald nodded. "How did the battle go on your side?"

"Very well, my lord." Robard told Gerald of how the battle had gone. Robard and his men had arrived at the Big Mountain camp when the battle between the two crews was still raging. By the time Robard's men had surrounded the camp, the battle inside had nearly ended. Then the second battle had begun. "Our soldiers overran the enemy," the head knight recounted. "Their gates were open and their palisade was waiting to be mounted. It took our men almost no effort."

"And our losses?" Gerald asked.

Robard cringed at the mention of losses. He sighed then spoke, "sixty-seven wounded and thirty dead."

"Thirty?" Gerald raised his brows. "I thought the enemy didn't pose any resistance to you."

Robard hesitated for a moment then said, "It's the Warriors you moved, my lord. They served as the leaders of some younger squads. A charge led by a Warrior breaks the morale of the enemy faster than a charge led by a regular soldier. Most of our veterans were already filling leading positions in the army before you formed the elite corps. Now we have some vacancies. We've had to fill them with less capable men."

Gerald nodded slowly. The Warriors he'd moved to the elite corps had served as a skeletal support to the main army before. Now the army lacked most of its Warriors. Soldiers with deep experience would fill leadership positions, even if they weren't Warriors, just like the regiment captain that accompanied Gerald. The young Warriors, on the other hand, filled lower positions. They were sergeants and squad leaders. They didn't have much experience, but they had the strength to make up for it, and the army had to provide such treatment to attract Warriors. Nevertheless, Gerald didn't change his mind. The elite corps would stay. The army could always grow more veterans over time. The benefits of having the younger Warriors in the elite corps far outweighed the losses of not having them in the main army.

It wasn't like there were no Warriors in the army at all. There were the older ones. Gerald hadn't moved those. Over time, they'd increase. There were always soldiers who became Warriors after the age of 30.

"Alright," Gerald said. "It was a victory. That matters the most. Losses were inevitable. We will honor the dead and take care of their families. How were our gains, though?"

Robard's expression lightened at the question. "Great, my lord," he said. "We have collected what amounts to 4000 gold in the defeated camp."

"That much?" Gerald was surprised. "Odd."

"No, my lord," Robard continued. "It wasn't just the camp's stash. It was the coin on the bodies of the fallen bandits. Most of the time such gains would be left for the soldiers to collect, but the camp was confined enough for me to keep an eye on the collected coin and increase our gains."

"Ah," Gerald nodded. "I see." Most of the regular bandits kept their coin on them. Only the wealthier ones would stash it somewhere safe. The 200 Gerald had defeated didn't amount to much in the general scheme of things, so Gerald had let the elite corps loot their coin. But almost 2000 bandits on Robard's side had provided a considerable amount of coin. With the results of both attacks, Gerald had earned 7000 gold. Some of it were valuables yet to be turned into coin, but that issue would solve itself once they reached Ard.

"There's something else, my lord," Robard coughed.

"hmm?" Gerald raised a brow. "What else?"

"It's Gasper," Robard said. "We've found him."

"Ah, yes," Gerald smiled. "I was just about to ask you. I thought he might have slipped back into the forest."

"No, my lord," Robard shook his head. "He didn't. When we found him, he was wounded. He didn't look good, but he will live. He needs some time to recover, though."

"Well," Gerald said. "Let's go see him."

Robard shook his head. "He's unconscious, my lord. He's been like that since we found him. The physicians said that it was normal and that he would wake up eventually."

"It isn't the best of news," Gerald sighed. "But it wasn't unexpected. Was he injured by our men?"

Robard nodded. "He had arrow injuries, my lord. Ours," he said. "Also, the men who found him, found Black Dog's corpse nearby. I'm not sure if he had something to do with it, but they say that he'd climbed up from the latter's body drenched in blood."

"If he dared to fight Black Dog to the death, then he isn't as spineless as he thinks he is," Gerald chuckled. "I suppose we'll know when he wakes up."

"Now that the bandits of the east are removed, will you disband the crew Gasper recruited, my lord?"

Gerald snorted. "Gasper's crew hasn't done anything yet, Robard," he said. "They've yet to realize what I've planned for them. This was only the beginning. When Gasper recovers, he will return to the forest and command them."

Robard nodded expressionlessly.

"It's time to return," Gerald continued.

"Yes," Robard said.

"You should smile, Sir Robard," Gerald said, chuckling. "You've finally gotten your desired battle against the bandits."

Robard forced a smile and nodded. It seemed like he wasn't too thrilled about the idea of the forest crew.

Gerald shook his head. Robard was too rigid, almost unwavering. The head knight always followed his commands. But Gerald couldn't help but worry that someday things may get more troublesome because of the knight's stubborn nature.

Soon the army began moving towards the east. They would reach Ard after dusk and enter at night. Most likely, everyone had already taken note of the absence of the army back in Ard. But two days weren't enough for anything to go awry. On the day of departure, Gerald had chosen the safer approach. He'd left Ard quietly under the cover of the night, so as not alert his enemies of the inside or the outside.

Under Gerald's command, the army marched back to Ard with a relaxed pace.

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

In the Lord's Hall, Gerald climbed the three steps up to his seat. He had returned to Ard the night before, victorious. As he sat down, he ran his eyes over his aides who stood below. There were more attendants than usual today. Renard, Robard, and Arthur were present as usual. There were two more people, though. Old Han and his second-in-command were present.

"Congratulations on your victory, your lordship," Renard was the first to step forward, slightly bending his back. "The bandits never expected your precise attack."

Neither did you, Gerald thought.

"Thank you, Renard," he said aloud. "It's all due to the bravery of Ard's soldiers."

Renard nodded and stepped back. Then it was Old Han who stepped forward next along with his lieutenant.

"This old man congratulates the lord on behalf of the garrison," Old Han said, bowing along with his lieutenant.

"And you have my thanks, Old Han," Gerald smiled.

Old Han nodded with a content face. "If you will allow me, my lord. I have duties to attend to," the old man said.

"Of course," Gerald said. "You may leave."

Old Han and his lieutenant bowed then walked out of the hall.

"Politics and gatherings. Old Han is fond of neither," Arthur said with an awkward smile.

"I don't blame him," Gerald chuckled. Then he changed the subject. "I trust the treasury's condition has come to your liking, Arthur."

"Yes, my lord," Arthur nodded fervently. "Nearly 13,000 gold. It isn't the fullest our treasury has ever been, but it's much healthier compared to before."

"I agree," Gerald nodded. "That's why we should start putting this gold to use. I want proper streets in Ard, Arthur. You can spend 1000 of that gold, but I don't want people to slip on the mud in the streets anymore."

"I will follow your command, my lord," Arthur said. "The gold should be enough for proper gravel to be laid in the streets."

"Good," Gerald said. Then he looked at his head knight. "Robard."

"My lord."

"I want silver badges crafted for the elite corps," Gerald said. "They will be attached to their armor for recognition. I also want different armor crafted for the corps. The best armor there is."

"By your command, my lord," Robard saluted.

"Their compensation will also be increased by half," Gerald continued. "Arthur will see to that."

"My lord, the Warriors' compensation is already high," Arthur said. "I believe increasing it further is unnecessary. Our treasury fares better now, but expending too much might hurt us."

"The corps's men are limited, Arthur. They will hardly pose an issue for our coffers," Gerald said. "This must be done, and it must be known to the public that the corps receives favorable treatment. Their victory against overwhelming numbers should be spoken of in every corner of Ard. I want more young Warriors in the corps, and I'm sure there are at least some more in Ard. They just don't think serving me is worth risking their lives. Glory and gold are the only things that will attract those who don't serve me already. Let it be known that the elite corps is recruiting any Earth Warrior younger than 30 years of age. Any ones older than that can only join the regular army."

"As per your command, my lord," Arthur said with a helpless expression.

"Now, let's discuss other matters," Gerald cleared his throat. "While my relatives flock to congratulate me for my victory, my cousins, Grina and Estor, have not even sent a letter. When I first arrived, they didn't attend my ceremony of inheritance. They have not once come to pay their respects to me."

"Give the word, my lord, and I will lead men to seize them myself," Robard said with a solemn face.

"I would have to advise against that, my lord" Arthur said, his voice louder and almost panicking. "If your cousins are seized or imprisoned without a suitable reason, the other branches of house may stand against you. It would be a great hindrance to your leadership if that happened."

"And disrespecting the lord of the house isn't a suitable reason?" Robard argued.

Gerald raised his hand to stop them. "I agree with Arthur," he said. "The branches of the family are deeply rooted in every part of Ard. Some of them even handle the affairs of the keep for me. Old Han's lieutenant who was just here is also part of a branching household of the family. They are everywhere. In the army, in the garrison, amidst the civil servants, and even in the keep. If we act rashly, then we'd unsettle every one of my relatives."

Arthur sighed in relief once he heard Gerald's words, while Robard just stayed silent.

"Your lordship," Renard spoke. "May I suggest a course of action?"

"Hmm?" Gerald eyed Renard curiously. "Go ahead."

"Why not summon them here?" Renard said. "If they don't comply, then your lordship would be justified to act against them for disobeying you."

"And if they do come, then they'd have to answer to me for their previous absence," Gerald said, nodding. "A good suggestion, Renard."

Renard smiled and lowered his head.

"Very well," Gerald continued. "Arthur, inform my cousins that they are to be present in my court tomorrow."

"Yes, my lord," Arthur said.

"Alright, this assembly is concluded," Gerald waved his hand. Then his aides bowed and left the hall.

Gerald soon left the hall as well. He headed to his study but stopped abruptly when he saw one of the maids walking in the hallway to the study. "Wait," he said, remembering something.

The maid who was just about to leave stopped. "My lord?" She looked quite puzzled. Gerald had never spoken with any of his maids before, nor had he taken liberties with them as most lords did.

"Have you seen Yanna?" Gerald asked.

"The young one, my lord?" the maid asked. "She left two days ago and hasn't returned."

Gerald nodded then left the puzzled maid standing in the hallway and walked to his study. I hope they are well, he thought.

When Gerald reached the door to his study, he was stopped by another maid who came running.

"My lord. My lord." She scurried towards him.

"What is it?" Gerald raised a brow.

"The man your lordship have had us care for is awake now. The head maid said that we must inform you if he wakes up, my lord."

Gerald was pleasantly surprised. "Good. I will go see him now."

Gasper was in one of the chambers of the keep. Gerald had given a command to have him under the care of maids without them questioning who he was, and a physician would regularly visit him.

Gerald pushed the door open and walked to the bed. Gasper was lying on his back, his injuries wrapped in smooth linens. His eyes were open but he didn't move. When he spotted Gerald entering, he tried to sit up but grimaced and gritted his teeth in pain.

The physician standing by the bed wanted to say something but hesitated and kept quiet.

Gerald waved his hand. "No need to torture yourself," Gerald said, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You're relieved of saluting me until you recover."

"Yes, my lord," Gasper said with some effort.

Gerald looked at the physician and said, "How is his recovery?"

"His recovery is going very well, your lordship," the physician said after bowing. "The injury to his shoulder is negligible, but the rib injury will hinder his movement for a while. I believe he will be able to walk freely in a fortnight. And hopefully, he will be able to go to battle in a month. He won't be at his best, but he will gradually recover his strength from then on."

"Alright," Gerald nodded. "You may leave now."

"Yes," the physician bowed again and left the chamber.

Gerald turned to Gasper with a smile. "I heard that you killed Black Dog yourself."

Gasper chuckled hoarsely. "I did. The archers of the house might have given me a hand, though."

"They gave you more than just a hand," Gerald snorted while nodding at the wounds.

"The wounds were necessary, my lord," Gasper. "I wouldn't have been the victor if it hadn't been for those arrows."

"Regardless, you have done more than just your duty. You deserve a reward," Gerald said.

"Ahem," Gasper took a breath. "May I request something, my lord?"

"Of course," Gerald nodded. "What do you want?"

"I want to reassure my father of my well being. He most likely thinks that I'm dead since the battle more than two months ago, and I'm his only son. He had a lot of expectations of me. I'm afraid my death would break him."

Gerald's face was troubled for a moment. Informing Gasper's father might bring unnecessary troubles. There should have been no survivors from that battle. The fact that Gasper was a dead man in everyone's eyes was the reason it was easy for him to command a bandit crew without anyone relating it to Gerald. Also, it wasn't wise to alert whoever acted against Gerald's father in the mountains before. Perhaps they thought Gasper had died in the mountains. Letting them know that he was still alive would bring no good.

"You may send him a discreet letter," Gerald said, sighing. "He would recognize a letter sent by you, yes?"

"Yes," Gasper perked up but quickly winced in pain. "Thank you, my lord. My father knows how to be discreet. I will let him know that no one can be informed of my survival. I'm sure he wouldn't mention the letter to anyone, for my sake."

"Very well," Gerald said. "Now I want you to rest. Soon, you will return to your crew and claim the east as your hegemony."

"But what of the other bandits, my lord?" Gasper asked. "I don't think they'll let me have the east for myself that easily."

"They are still shocked for now," Gerald said. "They won't try moving their men for the time being. The east will stay free of bandits until you return there."

Gasper nodded.

"The other crews will be too busy forming an alliance when you return to the east," Gerald continued. "It won't be too difficult gaining their recognition at such a time. They will be saving their strength for me, so they won't act against you without having to."

Gasper was listening while in bed, but Gerald could tell that he was still thinking about his father.

"Write that letter when you can," Gerald said. "I will have someone deliver it. We will speak about the other matters at hand soon. Rest well." Then he left Gasper's chamber.

Gerald sighed as he headed back to his study. The bandits in the east were just the simple beginning. The territory had to be cleansed of all bandits. And now the bandits were no longer ignorant of his intentions towards them. They would be more vigilant. There would be no more surprise attacks.

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

The next morning, Gerald took his seat in the Lord's hall again. His three aides were present and a discussion was about to start when a guard entered the hall and announced the arrival of Gerald's cousins.

"You three can leave," Gerald said.

"Yes, my lord." The two ministers and the head knight bowed and left the hall.

Gerald took a deep breath. "Let them in."

Soon, his two cousins walked into the hall. Gerald saw Grina first. She was the older one of the pair at the age of 32. Her brother Estor followed. He was only 25 years of age. Before they arrived in front of Gerald, he'd noticed how dignified Grina was. He had seen his share of noble ladies when he was still in the Andross Empire. He believed that Grina could compare to the most outstanding of them with her confident bearing. Her brown hair was made into a crown braid that made her look all the more serious. Her brother beside her paled in comparison. He was slightly taller but less noticeable.

They both came in front of Gerald and performed a curt bow. "We greet the Viscount."

Gerald nodded with a sneer. "And the Viscount greets you," he said, snorting. "Or should I have come to pay my respects to you in your manor? Forgive me if I haven't shown you enough courtesy."

Estor looked embarrassed and his eyes darted from side to side, avoiding Gerald's stare. Grina on the other hand received the mockery with a genial smile. "I hope the Viscount won't take offense for our delay in visiting the keep and paying our respects."

"I hope that there are no bandits in the basin by tomorrow, but not all hopes come true," Gerald said, meeting Grina's eye. His older cousin didn't retract her eyes. She faced his piercing glare with unchallenging but composed eyes. She didn't waver for a moment.

Grina soon sighed. "I truly have to apologize for our negligence," she continued. "I understand that your lordship might have been too busy to know of our recent predicament. Let me explain—"

"Let's forsake the worthless pretenses," Gerald interrupted her. "You had many opportunities to visit me. So, cousins, why have you not accepted your failure?"

Grina's gaze sharpened at his words but she soon regained her soft expression. Her brother, however, was getting more and more anxious with every exchange of words.

"Tell me, what is it that you truly believe?" Gerald continued. "Tell me what you always say among yourselves but never announce. Or perhaps tell me what you've announced before my arrival."

This time Grina replied with some disguised contempt. "We will not be fooled into open treason," she said. "We're loyal to the house. We always will be."

"On my honor," Gerald stood up, eying Grina, "you will be accused of nothing. Speak your mind. Is it not better than hiding from me in your manor like vermin?"

Grina hesitated as she looked up at him. Her lips twitched as she suppressed her thoughts. Then she seemed to visibly relax while some malice finally came over her face. "Very well, dear cousin. We never believed that you should be named Viscount. You should have stayed where you were."

"What right do you have to make such a decision?" Gerald chortled. "Is that all you have for a reason? This is folly."

Grina's face flushed in anger. "Folly? What do you know of folly? What do you know about this whole Viscounty? I have lived my whole life in Ard, suffering when it suffered and mourning when it mourned. What do you know of ruling? You don't even know what your seat is worth." She pointed at his seat. "You just woke up after a long sleep and found yourself a Viscount. That does not mean you deserve it."

Gerald's expression finally turned serious. He climbed down the three steps and moved closer to Grina until his face was only a breath away from hers. "You have judged my worth without seeing me," Gerald said, his voice mild but utterly cold. "You have judged my competence without measuring me. You even question my legitimacy. But I will not have it." He smiled, a menacing smile, a smile that a predator would give its prey before swallowing it whole. Then he whispered, "This was never about me, cousin. It was never about who is worthy and who is not. You have coveted that which isn't yours. You can keep coveting it, dreaming of it. But if you ever stretch your hands towards that which you have no claim for, you will earn nothing but ruin for yourself."

Silence ensued in the hall. Gerald didn't move, nor did Grina. Estor was still fidgeting on the side, almost whimpering. Gerald had long understood that he was just a puppet for his sister.

The silence only carried the sound of breathing; grina's grudged panting and Gerald's deep breaths.

"Listen well," Gerald spoke again, breaking the silence. He turned around and climbed back up to his seat. "This is the last time you'll ever be allowed to speak or act on your foolish desires. Consider this as having been your chance to vent all that rage you've carried. This is my sole warning to you. I will not give another."

Grina was still silent, her eyes like needles aiming to pierce Gerald's body. He didn't care, though. They would learn to obey or they would suffer for disobeying.

Estor decided to speak when he found that his sister wouldn’t. "We understand, cousin," he gulped. "P-Please don't take offense."

"You may leave." Gerald waved his hand. His two cousins quickly walked out of the hall. Grina was less dignified and more livid in her pace as she left.

"Summon Robard for me," Gerald told the guard who came in.

It wasn't long before the head knight returned to the Lord's Hall. "My lord," Robard saluted.

"Robard, have you looked into the matter of the Red Rain band?" Gerald asked.

The middle-aged knight looked conflicted for a moment then spoke. "I'm not exactly certain of my findings, my lord."

"What do you mean?"

"Some of the band's men have returned to Ard from the south," Robard explained. "They said that the band would come to Ard in a month, but I'm not sure that will be the case. The Red Rain band is in the baronies south of the southern pass. They might come much later than a month if someone provides them with some coin and a new enemy."

Gerald sighed. "We will just assume that they will come in a month," he said. "We need to regain the heavy trade from the south." He was aware that some merchants would appear in Ard from time to time, bringing light goods. They would only buy light goods from within Ard as well. Carrying heavy goods like grain and arms would only make them an easy target for bandits. These merchants usually traversed complicated routes or paid heavy tolls to the bandits to be able to trade in the basin. "Robben Luwin and his crew must be removed. We need to provide safe passage for the merchants coming from the rest of the Kingdom. We will need the help of those mercenaries to remove him. The already existent enmity will hopefully be enough to motivate them."

"Yes, my lord," Robard nodded. "I will bring you the leader of the band once they arrive in Ard."

"One more thing," Gerald said. "How would the Red Rain band return from the south while Robben Luwin occupies the southern lands of the basin?"

Robard shook his head. "It might seem like the Silver crew rules over the whole south of the basin," the head knight said. "But they have no dominance over the southern pass."

"That's quite odd," Gerald cocked his head. "Why would they not occupy the pass?"

"Do you remember the mine in the southern pass, my lord?" Robard asked.

"Yes," Gerald nodded. "The one my father sold to another noble. Count Alaric, I think?"

"Yes," Robard said. "The bandits have been avoiding conflict with the Count. That includes staying away from the pass. There are also other reasons. While occupying the pass would be beneficial for robbing everyone who enters the basin from the south, it would also make the bandits an easier target. Merchant guilds have united against bandits several times before. The Silver crew would be easier to handle if they were out in the open occupying the pass."

Gerald nodded. At least it was good news for him.

ß------------------------------------------------------à

Harrid eyed the disheveled old man who sat on the ground, leaning against the wall. He and Yanna had come to this smelly alley specially for this old man. "Are you sure he wouldn't just take the coin?" Harrid asked.

The old man coughed and shook his head. "I've done good by Gord. He wouldn't forget the goodwill between us. He isn't your common filth of the streets."

Yanna knelt down and produced five gold coins. "Here," she gave them to the old man. "Once he answers our questions, you can take one and give him the rest. If he doesn't tell us everything we want to know, then I will take back the gold."

The old man's eyes almost popped out as he watched the coins fall into his palm. Harrid wouldn't be surprised if the old man said that he'd never touched a gold coin before. After all, he hadn't either, at least not until he'd become the Viscount's attendant. "He will talk," The old man nodded vigorously. "You can count on me to make him talk."

Harrid grimaced in doubt. If the old man was wrong, then they could be murdered for these coins today. Yanna, on the other hand, just nodded. They waited until noon before a young man appeared at the end of the alley.

He walked towards the old man with a dubious expression, then he ran his eyes over Harrid and Yanna. "What is this about, old Neir? You sent someone saying that there was good coin to be made. I doubt I can make more coin than what I'm already being paid."

Harrid wasn't surprised. The young man did look well-off. His clothes were new unlike the ragged look of most people in Ard. He looked well-fed and content on the surface, which was even rarer.

"There is gold to be made, Gord, believe me," the old man said. "You just have to tell us about your work."

Gord was taken aback. "My work?" he said. "Why the hell are you asking about my work? You know who I serve, right?"

"Yes," the old man nodded. "We don't want to offend Madame Grina of course. We just want to know some simple things, like why she has recruited you and what she makes you do."

Before Gord could retort, Yanna stepped forward. "Has the Madame asked you to do anything yet?" she asked.

"And who are you to ask?" Gord said, his bewilderment increasing as he looked at the two children.

Yanna eyed the old man who responded with a quick nod then pulled out four gold coins and showed them on his open palm.

Gord looked at the gold coins as his eyes widened in surprise. "This . . ."

"Just answer her questions," the old man urged, raising his palm as if proving that the gold on them wasn't an illusion.

Gord eyed the gold with longing, but there was still reluctance on his face. It took a few moments for him to relax and slump his shoulders, surrendering to his anticipated wealth. "She has only armed us. She gave us swords and armor, but we haven't done anything yet."

"She's having you trained? Will you be her soldiers?" Yanna asked.

"No," Gord shook his head in exasperation. "I don't even know how to hold my sword properly. She just armed us. She told us to look as intimidating as we can when we wear our armor."

"Intimidating?" Harrid tilted his. "Who are you going to intimidate?"

Gord turned his face to Harrid and shrugged. "I don't know. We are supposed to go meet someone tonight."

"Who?" Yanna perked up.

"I told you that I don't know. All we've been told is that we must prepare tonight. I heard from some of the Madame's more trusted men that we'd be going out of the castle. The meeting would be east of Ard, but I'm not even sure of that."

"Is that all you know?" Yanna asked.

Gord ignored her and looked at the old man. "That's all I know, old Neir. I swear." Then he grabbed the gold coins from the old man's palm. He raised them closer to his eyes and pinched them, fearing that they weren't real gold but soon smiled in satisfaction. He then turned around and strode away from them. "You better not get me killed, old Neir. Otherwise, my soul would curse you for all eternity."

The old man let out a breath. "That's enough, right?" he asked Yanna.

She nodded and turned to Harrid, dragging him away from the alley. "We have to leave the castle."

"What?" Harrid gaped.

"We have to go now. The gates are closed at night," Yanna explained. "They won't let us out after nightfall."

"That isn't why I am asking, Yanna," Harrid growled. "Do you want to get us killed?"

"They won't see us," she argued.

Harrid rested his hand on the short sword on his hip. "They might see us, and if they do, I won't be able to stop them. I just brought this to scare the thieves away." He'd brought the short sword the Viscount had given him for training. He'd thought it would keep trouble away, but all he got were greedy glances aimed at the sword itself.

"We have to know who they are meeting," Yanna pleaded. "Otherwise, we will be useless to the Viscount."

Harrid was taken aback. "We aren't useless."

"Yes, we are," she said desperately. "I don't know why the Viscount took us in, but everyone else thinks that we are a burden. The head maid said that we were vermin. The men who visit the Viscount everyday always glare at us. They think that we don't belong in the keep."

Harrid frowned. Were they useless? Perhaps. So far, he had done nothing to help the Viscount. He wasn't even a good attendant. He didn't know how to read, so he could hardly help with anything aside from announcing visitors.

"We have to stay in the keep," Yanna continued. "I don't want to go back to the streets. You can become a squire. The Viscount could knight you when you grow up. You would be a knight, Harrid."

"Alright," Harrid nodded after some thought. "Let's head to the eastern gate."

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

East of Ard, several dozen farmers had built a small hamlet. The most notable building there was a mill that was built on the hamlet's outskirts. The hamlet would be particularly lively during harvests, because the surrounding farmsteads would bring their grain to be grinded at the mill. But now it was quite desolate. The harvest was yet to come. The miller was probably busy with other work at a harvestless time like this.

Harrid and Yanna were leaning against the wall of the mill after dusk. They had paid one of the farmers who were leaving Ard a few copper coins to take them on his cart. The farmer had dropped them off near the hamlet and moved on.

The hamlet was one of the closest to Ard, and the walls of the castle had been visible to Harrid and Yanna during the day.

Now after nightfall, Some torches were lit on the walls. The pair just had to wait for Madame Grina's troop to come out of the castle.

The wait got boring and the night soon became darker. "Will we even be able to see them?" Harrid muttered.

"Yes, a hundred men won't be able to move in the darkness without light," Yanna said. "We will see their torches."

"Ahh," Harrid nodded. "True."

At midnight, the pair finally saw a few torches coming out of the Ard's gates. The few soon became dozens and marched towards the east. The procession resembled a fiery python that crept towards the east.

"So many of them," Harrid said as he eyed Madame Grina's 100 men. "How could they go out of the castle unnoticed?"

"They weren't unnoticed, Harrid," Yanna said. "I'm sure all the night's watch on the eastern wall knew about them."

"We have to tell the Viscount about this," Harrid hissed.

"We will," Yanna said.

When the procession of armed men passed near the hamlet, the pair saw two silhouettes riding horses at the front. Behind them, around 100 men walked on foot, carrying torches. Harrid and Yanna were crouching near the mill as the procession passed by.

Yanna perked up and said, "let's follow them."

"They're going deeper into the wilderness," Harrid grumbled.

"You told me that the Viscount wiped out all the bandits in the east," she argued. Then she pointed at the moving procession. "They will drive away any wild animals. We don't have to worry about anything. They will never see us while we're in the dark and they are in the light."

"Fine," Harrid sighed. "Let's follow. I didn't think they would be going even farther than this."

The pair soon scurried after the bright procession of men. Luckily, it was night and the men moved slowly, which made it possible for the two of them to keep up the pace.

After a long time, it was Yanna that complained first. "How far are they planning to go?" she grumbled. "My feet hurt."

Harrid beside her was checking the horizon from time to time then he suddenly perked up. "Look," he said, pointing ahead of the procession.

"Are those houses?" Yanna asked.

"I'm not sure."

It was then that the procession slowed down to a stop. It seemed that the meeting would be near the abandoned buildings Harrid had spotted. After moving a bit closer, the pair realized that what they had spotted was an abandoned farmstead. Its buildings were falling apart and its fields were barren. Madame Grina's men grouped up in the farmstead and seemed to be waiting for someone.

Harrid and Yanna circled around and found a narrow stream surrounded by thick vegetation. They chose that spot to hide and watch the farmstead.

Not long after their arrival, Harrid spotted riders approaching from the direction of Ard. "Someone is coming. "

Yanna pushed down some of the shrubs blocking her face and looked up. "They are coming from Ard as well?" she said, puzzled. "Why are they meeting out of the castle then?"

"I don't know, but we must find out who it is," Harrid said.

There were three riders who stopped at the farmstead. They dismounted and walked towards one of the ruined houses. Two of the dismounted riders dispersed while the third seemed to be greeting Madame Grina who was standing in front of the house.

When the man greeted Madame Grina, his shaded face was uncovered by the light of the torches.

"He's short," Yanna whispered, while Harrid by her side was silently agape.

"It's him?" Harrid said, unbelieving.

"Who?" Yanna asked.

"That's the Viscount's minister," Harrid said. "The one that everyone hates."

Yanna stared at the short man as hard as she could for a moment then seemed to realize something. "Yes, I know him," she said. "I saw him with the Viscount before. He called him Renard?"

"Yes, that's him," Harrid nodded furiously. "The Viscount won't be happy about this."

Yanna nodded.

"Should we return now?" Harrid eyed her.

"No," she shook her head. "If we return now, the riders might come across us on their way back. We have to follow Madame Grina's men back just like we came. Then we will stay near the mill until the morning. "

"Wait," Harrid said hurriedly. "They're going somewhere."

Yanna peeked out of the vegetation again and looked where Harrid pointed.

They both watched as Madame Grina, the man who rode with her when she led the procession, and Renard headed away from the men who crowded around the house. They seemed to be going to the other side of the farmstead.

"Come," Harrid said, pulling Yanna by the hand and leading her through the overgrown grass. "Maybe we can hear them."

"You are awfully excited," Yanna quipped.

Harrid stopped and scratched his head bashfully. "Well, they won't have any guards around."

Yanna smiled knowingly and urged him on. "You're right. We should go listen," she said, pushing him forward.

Harrid led her and circled around the farmstead. They stayed as far from the buildings as they could, because the three people they were supposed to follow were already out of sight. If the two of them were somehow spotted, they'd be dead without a doubt.

Soon, they came to the other end of the farmstead and found the trio entering what seemed to be a stable. Harrid and Yanna waited for a while then they nodded to each other and crept towards the ragged building.

Harrid crawled ahead of Yanna. The closer he got to the stable, the faster his heart would beat. Along the way, he always felt like someone would find them. He knew that if they were caught, nobody would be able to find a trace of them, not even the Viscount. Their corpses would disappear forever after they were disposed of.

It always seemed as if he was fearful, but he never really was. It was because of her. He glanced back as he crawled farther ahead. Her soft hair was smeared on her face as she tried to catch up with him. Her eyes were shining with intelligence just like he always knew them. Did she know? He wondered. Did she know that he wouldn't hesitate to die for her?

It didn't matter. He would become stronger. He couldn't leave her life up to fate. If his time in the streets had taught him anything, it was that fate was never kind. Only a fool would hope it was. So he would protect the only precious person he had. He would slap fate on the face when it came for her.

Harm won't touch you while I'm near, he gazed back at her.

She saw his gaze and tilted her head questioningly. He smiled at her then looked ahead and continued crawling.

They soon reached the stable. Harrid led Yanna to the back of the stable. They had to be as far as possible from the doors. The rotten wood of the stable provided enough openings for them hear the discussion going on inside anyway.

"What benefit would I gain by supporting you?" Renard's voice came from inside.

"Can you not see for yourself?" A woman's voice answered him.

"Yes, but—"

"No need to hesitate," the woman continued. Harrid had already guessed that she must be Madame Grina. "If my brother rules Ard in the future, then the Duke's trade route is a simple matter."

Renard hummed for a moment then said, "a reasonable offer indeed."

"I have men in Ard. You saw it yourself. So many have come out here through the gates, and no one stopped us. Even you managed to leave those gates without questions because I willed it. All I ask is your aid when I need it."

"Then you will have it," Renard said. "Anyone who is prepared to serve the Duke is worthy of his aid."

"Not serve," Grina stressed her words. "We will exchange aid. Ard will be ours eventually, and you will get your trade route."

Renard guffawed. "But are we equal, Lady Grina? What you seek is for those who stand equal. Don't tell me that you believe that you're the Duke's equal."

"In wealth? No," she said, her voice icy. "In power? No. But here in Ard, we are at least equal. You can accept us as allies or you can refuse. Don't try to play us for fools."

There was a lengthy silence from Renard before he sighed. "I suppose the Duke wouldn't mind having another friend in Ard. I hope that you're the sort of friend who keeps their promises."

"I am," Grina replied instantly. "Only a fool would deceive Duke Malfi. When we rule Ard, we won't be looking for enemies. We will be looking for allies."

"It is too early to talk about your rule," Renard chortled. "You haven't fooled me with this little act you have prepared in my honor. Your 100 men are nothing compared to the Viscount's army. He has proven himself by exterminating the bandits in the east. Nobody doubts him anymore. If anything, everyone has great expectations in him." Renard's voice seemed to get lighter and lighter as he spoke until it almost turned into a soothing hiss at his following words. "Everyone and everything is against you. You have no friend but us. So don't talk about ruling Ard when it is unlikely for you to rule it."

Grina responded with a hearty laugh. "That is for us to worry about, your Excellency," she said. "You hardly know anything about Ard or the powers that wrestle in it. And the new Viscount is similarly ignorant."

"I suppose time will tell then," Renard said with a sigh.

"It certainly will," Madame Grina said. "It's been a pleasure, your Excellency."

"The pleasure is all mine," Renard said. "I will be taking my leave then."

"My men will escort you back," Madame Grina said graciously.

It didn't take long for Harrid to hear the doors of the stable creaking. There were a few moments of silence before a voice spoke.

It was the voice of a young man. Even the cautious Harrid could tell that the owner of the voice was more anxious than he was. "Sister," the young man said. "This is without the boundaries of everything we've done before. Betraying the family to our enemies? This is . . ."

Madame Grina broke into a chuckle. A desperate one, Harrid could tell from the sound of it. "Do you know how difficult this has been, brother?" she said. "Of course you don't. You didn't have to do any of the hard work. I have sacrificed too much for this, for you. If I succeed, it will be you becoming a Viscount."

"Is it that important?"

"Haha. You are a fool," she yelled. "Only a true fool would doubt the importance of ruling the family. What I want for us is true power, Estor. Unless you always want to be mediocre."

"This hunt for the Viscounty has led you too far, sister," the young man said. "You weren't like this before the war."

"I was a child before the war," she replied with a chuckle. "There is no comparison. I saw the truth later on."

"But you changed during the years of the war," the young man said. "I saw it. I felt it, Grina. You stayed in your chamber for months, then you changed. You became someone else."

"You will never understand," she muttered. "This is my wish, my hope in life. I want to have dignity."

"You do have dignity," the young man said as if trying to comfort her.

"Are you certain, brother?" she asked faintly. "Are you certain that I do?"

"Yes."

"Then you are ignorant like most people are," she chuckled helplessly. "You always asked me why I stayed for months in my chamber during the fifth year of the war. You shall have your answer, brother. When the King was occupied with the battles in the wild plains, Duke Malfi attacked the basin. The Viscount wasn't strong enough to stop him. The Duke almost consumed the Viscounty in one year. We didn't have many allies to depend on back then, but we had one."

"Count Westwell," the young man said.

"Yes. Him," Madame Grina said. "The Count's oldest son came ahead of his father's army to discuss the defense of Ard with the Viscount. His name was Alaric. He's the Count now. On the third day of his arrival, do you know what he did when he saw me?"

There was silence in response.

"He smiled," Madame Grina continued. "Then he dragged me into his chamber. I resisted him and told him who I was. He didn't care. He slapped me that day, for not complying. My cheek ached for many nights. But that wasn't why I stayed in my chamber." She turned silent and seemed to be panting and holding something in. "I stayed in my chamber because I was afraid of bearing a child." She was silent again, taking a deep breath. "In the end, I didn't. But I bore my humiliation for months. I learned that dignity came from power, brother. Do you think he would have dared to do what he did if I were the Viscount's daughter or sister?"

"I didn't know."

"The answer is 'no he wouldn't have'" she continued. "If you become Viscount in the future. Nobody would humiliate us ever again. Even a King wouldn't dare humiliate his vassals. We would have respect, Estor. We would have our dignity."

"I'm sorry," the young man said.

"Don't be sorry, my brother," she laughed. "Be strong. We have to take our cousin's seat. Territories and Kingdoms have changed hands many times in the past. Strength rules over everyone. We must be strong if we want to be the new hand that grabs power."

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Harrid and Yanna stood in front of Gerald in the study, hanging their heads. He had been yelling at them for a while now. The two hadn't really argued with him. They had just stood there and took his reproach.

"Are you two mad?!" he shouted. "You could have become cold corpses by now."

"We just wanted to know who your enemies were, my lord," Harrid finally argued.

"My enemies?" Gerald said, glaring at the boy. "I never asked you to find my enemies for me. I asked you to tell me what you can hear on the streets, nothing more. Following Grina's troop? Were you two kicked in the head?" Then he turned his glare to the girl beside Harrid. "And what did I tell you about the gold?"

Yanna was in cold sweat when he questioned her. It was the first time he saw her anxious. "I wasn't supposed to show it on the streets," she said.

"Then why did you?" Gerald growled. He'd told her to use the gold to rent as many inn beds as she could, so that she could later give them as compensation to the homeless who passed her what secrets they knew. "I thought that you weren't a fool, Yanna. It appears that I was wrong. That man, old Neir was his name?"

Yanna nodded.

"What could have prevented him from plotting with Grina's recruit and killing you two for your gold," Gerald continued. "Bribing one of Grina's recruits and even following her men out of Ard? Do you wish to die?"

Harrid met Gerald's eye for a moment before diverting his eyes away. "We thought that if—"

"You thought that it was worth the risk of death," Gerald interrupted him. "Let me tell you this. Your death would do me no service. I don't care what you can discover if it involves risking your lives." Then he eyed Yanna. "Your small ventures out of the keep will be no more. You won't collect news for me anymore, at least not without guards." He let out a breath in frustration. It had been quite beneficial at first, having them bring him what he couldn't hear where he was, but Gerald couldn't let the two children die for him. It wasn't why he'd brought them to the keep. He'd brought them so they could live, not perish without intact corpses.

"Milord," Yanna muttered.

"What is it?"

"The man who met Madame Grina," Yanna said. "It was your minister, milord. The short one. His name was Renard. Madame Grina wanted to be allies with him, and he accepted."

Gerald grew silent. He couldn't say that he was awfully shocked. It wasn't a surprise that his enemies would conspire against him. Grina was no fool. She wouldn't pass the opportunity of allying herself with the Duke. He understood now why Grina had recruited the 100 men. They were a show of force. She had to show Renard that she had at least some power in Ard. If only she had known how few Renard's friends were, she wouldn't have had to go through the trouble. He needed allies more than she did.

"Summon Robard and Arthur for me," Gerald told Harrid.

"Yes, my lord," Harrid said before leaving.

Yanna bowed and was about to leave.

"Wait," Gerald sighed. "I didn't reprove you with the intention of withholding your reward. You've accomplished what you set out for, and more. What do you want for a reward?"

Yanna scratched her arm and hesitated. "Can I learn to read, milord?"

"Yes, you can, and you could have if you had asked me before," Gerald said. "This is no reward. What else do you want?"

"I want the head maid to teach me," Yanna said.

Gerald almost chuckled. What was with this girl? "This is still not a reward," Gerald said. "And why do you want her to teach you?"

"She said that I was illiterate filth," Yanna answered, as straight forward as she had always been.

"Hmm?" Gerald raised a brow. Most of the keep's maids had a rough understanding of the written word. They knew how to read simple words, but they didn't know how to write. "She said that to your face?"

Yanna nodded.

"I could discipline her for that," Gerald said. "Do you want me to?"

The girl shook her head.

"Very well," Gerald said. "She will have to teach you to read from now on. Also, you don't have to persevere with insults in my keep. You can always come to me."

"Yes, milord," she nodded.

"Alright, you can go," Gerald said. "I will think of a proper reward for you in due time."

Yanna left and Gerald fell in thought. "Did they smirk?" he murmured to himself. When he'd told the two children that they were no longer allowed to venture outside of the keep, he'd seen a slight curl to their mouths. He'd felt as if it wasn't because of escaping the danger of going to collect news for him. Their smirk had made him feel as if he'd said something that only they understood, as if they had heard something that he hadn't. What were they happy about? he wondered.

Soon, Harrid came back and announced Gerald's two aides in.

"My lord," the two said in unison.

"Arthur, Robard," Gerald nodded. "As usual, we have some matters on our hands."

"Is it about Madame Grina?" Arthur asked.

"Yes," Gerald said, eying Arthur. "You knew something was happening?"

"I've heard about some movements from her recruits," Arthur sighed. "I was going to inform you after finding out what exactly happened, my lord."

"Well, you don't need to search anymore," Gerald said. "She took her men and left Ard's eastern gate last night."

"How did she leave?" Robard inquired. "Who let her out?"

"Our night's watch at the gate let her out," Gerald said in a sardonic tone. "They opened the gate for her when she left, and they opened it yet again when she returned. Apparently, I'm not the lord of this castle."

Robard's face paled. "How . . ." he uttered. Then his face turned grim. "I will execute them myself, my lord."

"Why will you execute them?" Gerald said, his tone still the same.

"They have opened the gates when they shouldn't have and without your command. There is no telling if they would open the gates for our enemies when they arrive," the head knight said decisively.

Gerald shook his head. "That's not true," Gerald said. "It's a major offense if they open the gates for a stranger. But it's a different matter if the gates were opened for my relative. It's enough of an excuse to give themselves. They were paid in gold for silence, and they didn't have to worry, because what would the Viscount's relative do that would harm the castle?"

"They are still traitors," Robard insisted.

"Are they?" Gerald chuckled. "It's difficult to decide if they would truly open the gates for my enemies. But that's not the problem. Grina has people in my garrison who do her bidding. They are most likely relatives of mine as well. It would be hard to fish them out. Hanging the soldiers of the night's watch would just make me look weak. Everyone would hear about the gates that opened while I slept in my keep."

"I agree," Arthur said faintly.

"Will we just let them be, my lord?" Robard asked, a vein protruding on his forehead.

"No," Gerald shook his head. "You will first find the men who were on that watch last night. I will order a rearrangement of the castle's guard soon. It should scatter Grina's rats in different parts of the garrison.

"Yes, my lord," Arthur nodded.

Robard gritted his teeth. "Yes," he said.

"It's not your fault, Robard," Gerald said. "It's not even Old Han's fault. Nobody could prevent my relatives from taking positions in every important part of the castle, including the garrison. Nobody would stand against them unless there was a clear offense."

Robard nodded silently.

Arthur on the knight's side narrowed his eyes as if realizing something vital. "My lord," he said. "Where did Madame Grina go when she left the castle?"

Gerald chuckled. "Now we come to the more serious matters," he said. "Grina met Renard outside of Ard. She brought those men with her to show him her power."

"What?!" Arthur jumped up. "What did they meet for?"

"Isn't it obvious, Arthur?" Gerald said. "Or are you trying to hide it from yourself? It would have happened sooner or later. They've taken each other as allies already."

"But," Arthur stuttered. "The pressure of the Duke, and Madame Grina's influence in Ard. The Viscounty isn't even stable yet."

"At least we know now," Gerald continued. "We weren't blind to their actions. And we will keep an eye on them."

"Yes, my lord," Arthur said, rubbing his temples.

"Robard will handle the matter of the garrison," Gerald said, turning to Robard. "You should know many of the soldiers there. The army and the garrison have exchanged men many times before. I suppose it wouldn't be hard for you to find the guards who were on that watch."

"No, my lord," Robard said. "It's a simple matter."

"Arthur, you will try to find out where Grina gets her gold," Gerald continued. "She has recruited a hundred men, and she has even armed them. She even bribed the castle's guards, which couldn't have been cheap. All of this needs a considerable amount of gold."

"Madame Grina has been trading in light goods for a long time, my lord," Arthur said.

"Do you think her trade is enough to support all these expenses?" Gerald cocked his head. "She would have drained her coin dry by now if that was the case. I want to know where she gets her gold, and if someone is providing her with it."

"Yes, my lord," Arthur nodded.

"Do not alert her," Gerald stressed his words. He looked at Robard. "Just find out who the guards were. Don't act against them in any way. I don't want her knowing that she is exposed." Then he turned to Arthur. "Use your most subtle of methods, Arthur, but don't let her know you're looking for the source of her gold. Otherwise, she will hide it even deeper."

"Yes, my lord," they both nodded solemnly.

"Alright," Gerald said. "You may go attend to whatever matters you have on hands now."

His two aides stood up and bowed before leaving.

Gerald sighed after they left. "How deep will you drag yourself, Grina?" he murmured to himself.

Chapter 25

Chapter 25

A breeze caressed Gerald's face as he sat in the keep's garden. It was a kind day in the middle of the summer, merciful in its heat and generous with its winds. Gerald enjoyed the cool breeze with his eyes closed. A month had passed since the battle in the east. After the battle, the other bandits had hidden in their camps most of the time. He assumed that they were expecting him to strike while the iron was hot. They would then unite together to repel him. But confronting them wasn't a choice he was planning to make. He wasn't going to risk too many losses, not against bandits.

"My lord," a restrained voice drifted from behind as if trying not to startle him.

Gerald turned back and saw Gasper saluting him with a smile. "Gasper," Gerald said. "I've been waiting for you. Come and sit."

"Yes, my lord," Gasper said, approaching Gerald and taking a seat across from him.

"You have mostly recovered, yes?" Gerald said.

Gasper nodded. "My Warrior strength hasn't returned, but nobody can tell that I'm injured anymore."

"Your strength won't matter for the time being," Gerald said. "You have Uncle Rudolf with you to keep trouble in check. Bandits believe in strength. As long as your subordinates don't sense weakness from you, no one will rebel against your leadership. Most of the ones you have are just desperate refugees, though. I only sent Uncle Rudolf with you out of caution."

"I understand, my lord," Gasper said. "I've begun recruiting more men a few days ago as you've commanded."

"How many so far?" Gerald asked.

"500 men," Gasper said eagerly. "The silver has beguiled them, and promises of gold have given them even more spirit."

"Good," Gerald said. "Recruit as many as you can, no less than a thousand. You will be returning to the forest camp soon. Your crew has to grow enough to be recognized as the hegemon of the east."

Gasper rubbed his wrist as if thinking of something. "But," he began. "I believe those numbers are hollow, my lord. Even if I have more than 2000 men. They hardly know how to fight. Their brief training wouldn't amount to much in real combat."

"True," Gerald chuckled. "But it doesn't matter. You will have many opportunities to sharpen your men. For now, I ask no victories of you. You must become my hidden hand among those bandit crews. If they see strength in you and your crew, they will want you as an ally. They are still shaken by what happened in the east. That's why no one has claimed the empty territory. Even Robben Luwin has been cautious and hasn't stretched his hands there."

"If I may ask, my lord" Gasper said. "What will I do if I manage to ally myself with the bandits? Will I only inform you of what I know about them? After all, even if I become their ally, I don't believe that they will ever fully trust me. They wouldn't let me lead them into ambush, and turning them against each other isn't possible anymore."

"It's alright," Gerald said. "You would have to know the answer to that either way. Even if you can't lead the bandit crews into ambush, influencing their decisions will be enough for us. Influence can be a deadly weapon. Black Dog's decision to attack the Big Mountain brought the two bandits' downfall. A single decision can bring victory or defeat. So when the decisions are made, I want you there among the bandits. It also wouldn't harm knowing what they are thinking and if they are scheming something."

"Yes, my lord," Gasper said. "I will strive to gain their trust."

"I have prepared some arms for your new men," Gerald said. "You can talk to Arthur before leaving. He will tell you where to find them. I've handed you 1000 gold before. If you need more coin later, let Uncle Rudolf know."

"I will follow your commands, my lord," Gasper said.

Gerald smiled. "Your letter was delivered yesterday," he said. "I suppose your father should no longer be in mourning. You are a good son, Gasper."

"No, my lord," Gasper shook his head. "He is a good father. All he wanted was a good life for me. He wanted to have pride in his son. And now I endeavor to not shame him. He has given me everything." Gasper grew silent for a moment, his eyes wandering in thought. "Sometimes he would tell me about his days as merchant with a reminiscent smile. I know that he loved his trade. He abandoned it for me, and he spent almost every coin he had so that I could be what I am today."

"Is that why you didn't want to die?" Gerald said mildly.

"There was . . . " Gasper trailed off, his face anguished.

"There was no honor in that death," Gerald said. "Right?"

Gasper raised his head and met Gerald's eyes with guilt. "If I had died, he would have had nothing left. He always wished for me to become a knight, but I would have died at the hands of brigands. He would have found no pride in my sacrifice. I would have only brought him grief."

"There was no honor in dying that day," Gerald said with a smile. "And there was no shame in living through it. You judge yourself ruthlessly, Gasper. Unlike what you might believe, your father raised a fine man."

"Thank you, my lord," Gasper said, his voice shaky.

"There is nothing to thank me for. It is only the truth," Gerald said. "You have gifted me the heads of two bandit leaders. You only have to gift me with more, in due time. Then you will return to Ard a proud son."

Gasper stood and saluted. "Yes, my lord."

Gerald nodded for him to leave. After Gasper left, Gerald couldn't help but think of his days in the Andross empire. It was Uncle Rudolf who would come to his rescue at times of doubt. Whenever he'd questioned his value, it would be Uncle Rudolf who would assure him that he wasn't worthless. Perhaps Gasper could benefit from his time with the old steward.

"Should I have told him that I will have to attack his crew soon?" Gerald murmured to himself.

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

"My lord," Robard saluted as a gentle breeze caressed his armor.

"Robard," Gerald said. He was sitting in the garden and his head knight was standing in front of him, a little puzzled. Gerald knew why. He had taken to the habit of spending his time in the garden the last few days. His aides weren't used to meeting him amidst the colorful greenery. Nevertheless, these were the coolest days he'd seen of summer. Gerald didn't want to confine himself in his study when he could breath fresh air.

"I have news, my lord," Robard said.

"Good news?" Gerald said.

"Yes," Robard nodded. "The Red Rain band has returned from the south."

Gerald perked up. "Is that so?" he said. "That is indeed good news. Have you arranged for a meeting with their captain?"

"Yes, my lord," Robard said. "I have arranged for a meeting tomorrow. I hope it isn't too sudden."

"It isn't," Gerald said. "The sooner the better. You know that I can't wait to rid the basin of its scourge."

"I've arranged for their captain to arrive at the keep tomorrow morning," Robard said.

"Very well," Gerald breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad the Red Rain band was back. If he couldn't pit them against the Silver crew, he would have to sacrifice too many of his men to eliminate the former mercenaries. "Gasper has already left, yes?"

"Yes, my lord," Robard said. "He took more than 1000 refugees with him last night. I made sure that those who noticed pretended they didn't"

Well, he is in for a surprise, Gerald thought, almost chuckling. He was actually a bit embarrassed for hiding part of the truth from Gasper. Regardless, he would know when he reaches the camp.

"How is the recruitment for the elite corps?" Gerald asked.

"It has gone well, my lord," Robard smiled. "We have recruited 20 Earth warriors. I believe there could be a few more in Ard, but not all Warriors were convinced to join the corps."

"That's alright," Gerald nodded in satisfaction. "They will change their minds when the elite corps's achievements pile up. The corps is now composed of 50 Earth Warriors. They're a considerable force as long as they're not vastly outnumbered in battle. I don't intend to shove them into a field battle anyway. They will have the best effect as a hidden blade appearing behind our enemies' necks."

"Yes, but the severely wounded Warriors are yet to recover, my lord," Robard said. "They will need more time."

"Yes," Gerald said solemnly. "I hadn't expected the bandits to have a competent commander. I expected their morale to collapse once we entered their camp, but that Warrior roused them into a harsh resistance. He wasn't just good with a sword. He knew how to command men well, and some Warriors of the elite corps almost paid for it with their lives."

"Actually," Robard said. "The captain of the regiment that followed you has complained, my lord. He said that you charged into battle without enough protection, which put him in a uncomfortable situation."

"Well," Gerald chuckled. "I am alive and well, right?"

"Thankfully you are, my lord," Robard sighed. "But I agree with the captain. If that battle had gone worse, you could have been injured. Charging at the enemy with only the elite corps by your side is a risky gamble, my lord. I hope that you would reconsider before doing it again."

"Don't worry, Robard," Gerald said. "I just used the opportunity to raise the reputation of the elite corps and sharpen their senses. I don't intend to challenge similar risks again, at least not without a good reason."

ß----------------------------------------------------------à

Gasper rode his horse ahead of the procession of new recruits. They were heading to the forest where his camp was. Over 1000 men followed him, all recruited from the refugees surrounding Ard. They couldn't resist the coin. Wealth was the best herald, after all. He only needed to wave his coin around for the craving refugees to see. Men flocked to him like flies to rotten fish.

The new recruits were following him on foot. They reached the forest in the morning. Gasper saw its shadow from afar and shouted for the men to stop. Then he trotted towards the forest slowly. If there were hidden sentries there, he didn't want them to think it was an enemy attack. So he waited for them to emerge upon his approach.

He was right. Once he was a few dozen yards away from the dense trees, a shout stopped him.

"Halt!"

"I'm Gasper," he shouted. "Your chief." After he said that, he heard a few hisses that he assumed were an argument between the sentries.

There was a slight hesitation as a voice rang out. "Step closer."

Gasper rode forward until he managed to see the sentries hidden on the trees. They recognized him quickly, and he saw visible relief on their faces. "I have brought more men with me. Help me lead them to the camp."

"Yes, chief," the two sentries said.

Gasper nodded then rode back to the new recruits. He waved for them to follow him again and led them into the forest.

He had to dismount to walk through the woods. The high number of recruits slowed the march through the forest considerably, and it took Gasper some time to reach the camp with them.

Once he arrived, he spotted the dense tents in the clearing. With the arrival of the new recruits, the tents would have to spread out of the small clearing. They would have to set them up amidst the trees. But the crew wouldn't have to stay here for long, so it wasn't a problem.

Several men walked out of the camp to welcome or watch his arrival. But before he could find Master Rudolf, he heard a mocking voice.

"Well, well," the voice came out of a man with a scar on his chin. "Our chief returns, after a whole month of nothing."

Gasper eyed the speaker and saw the crossed arms and the sneering face. Behind the scarred man were a few others, wearing similar sneers. Gasper assumed that they were lackeys sharing the same sentiment of the man. "I was recruiting more men," Gasper said without expression. He couldn't appear weak now. Otherwise, the wolves would come out to rip him apart. "We need more strength to rule the east."

"But you sent us no word," the scarred man continued almost innocently. "We knew nothing of you. Leaderless, the men had to count their days without knowing their fate."

"The chief doesn't need to justify himself to you, Djark," a serene voice announced. Gasper didn't miss the decisive tone, though. It was Master Rudolf. He walked out of the crowed, his face hidden behind the copper mask.

"Ah," the scarred man chuckled. "If it isn't our nameless lieutenant. I thought you didn't speak except when giving commands and killing those who oppose you."

"Are you finished?" Master Rudolf said. "If you are, then return to whatever stinking hole you sleep in. Unless you want twice the patrol duty this fortnight."

The scarred man glared at Master Rudolf then snorted and turned around to leave.

"Wait," Gasper finally spoke again. He ran his eyes over those who followed Djark. "Following him means sharing the consequences with him when he blunders. If I were you, I would reconsider letting another mouth speak for mine." He chose to drop a threat for the lackeys. Letting the matter pass wasn't a choice for him. Others would begin to question him as well if he didn't sharpen his words along with his sword. Outright slaughtering all those he didn't like wasn't wise either. It would make his men more restless, and it might even invite desertion.

The men following Djark looked troubled for a moment, and some of them hesitated visibly. None left him, though. Gasper knew, however, that they would weigh their risks when they were out of their leader's sight.

Djark threw an annoyed glare back at Gasper and led his lackeys away.

Master Rudolf walked to Gerald and nodded. "Chief."

Gasper nodded back. "Let's speak in the cabin." Then he waved for the new recruits who followed him. "Make your tents."

After entering the cabin with Master Rudolf, Gasper sighed. "What was that?"

"Djark," Master Rudolf said. "A deserter of the Mali Kingdom's army. Those who follow him are mostly former alley thieves and thugs."

"Has he been giving you trouble for long?" Gasper asked.

"He doesn't trouble me that much," Master Rudolf shook his head. "He does, however, undermine you with the other members of the crew. Being a former soldier, he has gained their respect with his experience. You have been away from the crew for longer than you have been with it. The men are beginning to doubt your authority. You will have to regain your grip on the crew."

Gasper nodded. "I will do so. Soon enough, we will move out of the forest. When the crew rules the east, the men will be busy instead of restless. Ah, right. The Viscount has sent you a letter." He produced a wrapped letter from his armor.

Master Rudolf accepted the letter and opened it. Upon glancing at the top of the letter, he handed it back to Gasper. "It's for you."

"But the Viscount said that it was for you," Gasper argued.

Master Rudolf smirked and retracted his hand. He ran his eyes over the top of the letter and said, "it says here, 'Uncle Rudolf, please hand this letter back to Gasper.'"

Gasper's face distorted in bewilderment. He received the letter carefully and slowly. He had an ominous feeling, and he couldn't ignore it. Why would the Viscount give him a letter when he could have told him what he wanted to his face?

He read through the letter and his feeling was confirmed. The Viscount was going to attack his crew?! No wonder he hadn't told him to his face. Which sane man would say 'Yes, my lord' to that? "The Viscount is planning to attack the crew," Gasper said faintly to Master Rudolf.

"I see," Uncle Rudolf said. "It does indeed sound reasonable."

"Reasonable?" Gasper glared at him, his eyes almost popping out. "The Viscount put a lot of effort into having me build this crew. And now he wants to attack it?" He shook his head and continued reading the rest of the letter. It contained an explanation of how the attack would happen. Gasper would soon have to begin collecting bandits' 'taxes' from the surrounding villages and hamlets. Three days after the crews' first collection, the Viscount would send a small troop to attack the crew. He finished reading the rest of the letter and shook his head. The Viscount had drawn a fine play for him to act out, but it wasn't simple. It involved a lot of deaths and risks.

"Think about it," Master Rudolf said. "The lord of Ard has just cleaned the bandits from the east of the basin. Why would he let another crew sprout up in the territory he just cleaned?"

"I know," Gasper sighed. "It would be too suspicious if we were left in peace. People would suspect the Viscount, and the other bandit crews would suspect us. It's just difficult to accept. Most of these refugees aren't true bandits. I didn't intend to send them to their deaths like this." He handed the letter to the old steward.

"Actually," Master Rudolf said as he ran his eyes over the letter. "This could be quite useful for you. It could be used to rid the crew of some unneeded figures."

Gasper raised his brows. Then he relaxed them with a smile. "An interesting idea. I suppose it's time for you to tell me about other groups like Djark's."

The old steward nodded silently. But Gasper could tell that there was a grim smile under the copper mask, even without seeing it.

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Gerald sat in his study, waiting for his anticipated visitor. He couldn't help but feel a bit excited. When he'd returned to the Viscounty, he'd spent a some sleepless nights thinking about the plague of his territory, the bandits. Even when he'd managed to sleep, he would dream of wiping them out and rebuilding the castle that had fallen on hard times. Ard was what his ancestors left him. It was what his father left him. He had to see it safe and thriving again. He wanted to climb the towers of the keep and oversee the flourishing homes of his subjects.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

"My lord," Harrid stepped in, "Sir Robard has arrived with guests."

"Let them in," Gerald said with a smile. He'd chosen to meet the Red Rain band's captain in his study instead of the Lord's hall. He believed it would be better to appeal to the mercenary's feelings of enmity towards Robben Luwin instead of acting high and mighty.

Robard entered the study first. Following him were two men in red armor. "My lord," Robard saluted first.

"Edgar greets the Viscount," the first of the two men who followed Robard said, bowing along with the second. "I'm the captain of the Red Rain band, and this is my lieutenant, Isaac," he pointed at the younger man beside him.

Gerald wore his brightest smile. "Welcome to my keep, Edgar." He observed the mercenary captain. Edgar, who was as old as Robard, looked much younger than his age would suggest. He had a cleanly shaven chin and a young heroic face that would drive maidens mad. Gerald wanted to chuckle. The mercenary looked more knightly than most knights. "Take a seat."

The three men quickly sat down. "When I heard that the Viscount needed the Red Rain's services, I couldn't wait to accept the invitation and visit your beautiful keep."

"You are very kind," Gerald said. "But this matter isn't as simple as you believe it to be."

"Oh?" Edgar cocked his head. "Isn't it now? I would like to hear what it's about then."

"It's about your conflict with the Silver crew," Gerald continued. "I have heard that there is a lot of bad blood between you."

Edgar dropped his head with a smirk and nodded his head as if he'd seen through Gerald's words. "Well," he said. "It's more of an old rivalry, your lordship. Robben Luwin took what wasn't his, and we weren't happy about it. I wouldn't call what we have on our hands conflict. Only a few skirmishes have happened so far. We know to keep away from each other's blade."

"Does that mean that you wouldn't like to see your 'rivals' removed?" Gerald said.

Edgar's smirk turned into a wide smile. "Now, that would depend on how it is supposed to happen."

"I understand that you are outnumbered when compared to the Silver crew," Gerald said, laying his hands on the table. He was finally getting there. "The Silver crew, however, doesn't outnumber my men."

"They do outclass your lordship's men, though," Edgar added. "Robben Luwin has more than 100 Warriors under his command."

"True," Gerald nodded. Luwin had gathered Warriors from disbanding mercenary bands and used them to bolster his ranks. Paying them would have been a problem had he still been a mercenary. But banditry, when done right, was more lucrative than selling the sword, though Gerald doubted that was the only motivation for those Warriors. "That's why I have invited you here."

"You want my men to bleed for yours?" Edgar chuckled, obviously in ridicule. "Why would I send my men to the grinder for your lordship? I don't remember my band owing the Viscounty any life debts."

Gerald inhaled ruggedly. He had assumed too much, it seemed. Edgar wasn't as excited as he'd expected him to be about erasing his rival. Perhaps he didn't perceive Robben Luwin as a threat, contrary to what Gerald believed. Were their little skirmishes only an exchange of blows to maintain face? Regardless, Gerald had to find a way to persuade him. "Perhaps you are not in open conflict with the Silver crew now, but you might be in the years to come. Removing a possible enemy should be great motivator for your band. Have you ever thought what would have happened if Robben Luwin had decided to go all out and attacked your band on your way back to Ard?"

"Robben Luwin never attacked my crew because he isn't intent on ruining himself," Edgar sneered. "We mercenaries are petty men. If we see ourselves falling, we take as many enemies as we can with us. We hold grudges, even in our dying moments. Luwin never attacked us because he knew that we would have taken at least half his crew with us, if not more. Then he would be naked for the wolves to devour after finishing us."

"He will get stronger eventually," Gerald gritted his teeth. It seemed that the mercenary was intent on getting control of this negotiation. He didn't ask to leave, which meant that he wasn't against attacking the Silver crew, but he wanted more benefits. "When he does, he won't need to fear the wolves. He will tear you apart without a moment's hesitation."

"He will have torn apart your lands first," Edgar retorted. "Give me a better reason to fight him instead of letting you do it for me, your lordship."

"Half the gold he has," Gerald said through his teeth. "You know very well how much wealth he's hoarding." A bandit that controlled the lands connecting the basin and the rest of the Kingdom would naturally be the richest of his kind.

Edgar guffawed. When his laughter finally stopped, he said, "That's a given, your lordship. We will fight in that battle with our lives on the line. We are entitled to half that plunder if we are victorious."

Gerald was speechless. He shot a sharp stare at the mercenary, which the latter returned leisurely without a care. "Then what would motivate you to fight Robben Luwin, aside from all that was mentioned?"

"We are mercenaries, your lordship," Edgar stressed his words. "We don't fight for promises. What if we don't win the battle? Will the lives of my men be worth nothing just like weeds? Mercenaries are paid in gold before going into battle."

"How much?"

"After our latest recruitment, there are 900 men in my band," Edgar said. "Almost each one of them has seen more blood than a hundred of your men combined. I have more Warriors than your 4000-man army. I think requesting 2000 gold coins before battle is generous on our part."

Gerald turned silent. 2000 gold wasn't a small amount considering the state of his treasury. He didn't plunder thousands of gold from the bandits to waste his gains in every corner, but when compared to removing the silver crew, the gold seemed redundant. "Very well," Gerald sighed. "You will have your gold."

"That's not all, your lordship," Edgar raised a finger, preserving the wide smile on his, now, irritating face.

"What else?"

"If we are victorious," Edgar said, resting in his chair. "We get Luwin's little fortress."

"What?!" Gerald jumped up. He had heard that the Silver crew had built their camp differently compared to other crews. Instead of a nearly useless palisade, they had built walls of mud around their camp, eventually making themselves a dirt fortress that could withstand minor assaults. Robard had told him that it was almost three times a man's height. "Are you mad?" Gerald growled. "The bandits' fortress must be torn down as soon as they are defeated. Don't even dream of taking it as your own."

"Then we have nothing more to discuss, your lordship," Edgar stood up as well. "We will fight for no less than what I have requested."

Gerald slammed his hand on the table. "Audacious and foolish. I will have no such folly here." Handing them Robben Luwin's walls? He wasn't a witless fool. He wasn't going to remove shit and replace it with manure. It was unlikely that the Red Rain band would resort to banditry like Robben Luwin. If they had wanted to rob, they would have done it long ago. But giving them the land and walls meant allowing them the power to rule over that camp for eternity. Gerald wouldn't have the right to expel them later. They would have a territory of their own within his territory. Some mercenary bands had such rights in nobles' lands, but they were given those privileges on the basis of great merit, such as fighting without gold when a noble was in danger. Some mercenaries had fought for the King 14 years ago even when the Kingdom's gold dried. There was no comparison. Edgar was here to suck every possible drop of blood from the Viscounty. He wasn't a 'benevolent' mercenary. "You may leave," Gerald said.

Edgar turned around, not even frowning, and walked out of the study.

"Harrid," Gerald yelled. "Show my guests out."

Edgar's lieutenant, Isaac, was still standing in the study after his captain left. He glanced at Gerald. His eyes were narrow and his face expressionless "Your men will be slaughtered," he said in a calm voice, almost soothing, but enraging at the same time. "The number of your men won't matter when you fight on Robben Luwin's walls, and he will never meet you in an open field of battle. He might not have a real castle, but I doubt your lordship can take down his walls faster than he will take down your men." Then he turned around and followed Edgar out.

Gerald was fuming, but he didn't retort. It was true. His men would suffer in a siege, even one as trivial as this. He didn't need much experience to know that in a siege, the party that had seen more battle in their lifetime would always be the victor. Numbers wouldn't matter, unless there was a vast difference between the two sides. He would also be the attacker, which meant more losses for him. There was no guarantee for victory. He'd hoped that the Red Rain band could help his men break through the Silver crew's defense, and once they had a foothold within the fortress, the battle would be decided by his advantage of numbers.

He slumped back into his chair, some sweat trickling down his forehead. Robard was still in the study, silent as ever. Gerald leaned on the table and rested his forehead on his hand. "How many Warriors does the Red Rain band have?"

"More than 90, my lord," Robard said. "One of the reasons of the conflict between the two mercenaries in the first place was the competition for the Warriors from the disbanded bands. They both bolstered their ranks with Warriors. Edgar struggles to pay his men, while Robben Luwin thrives on robbery. I'm afraid Edgar's Warriors not only outnumber ours but are also more experienced. The same goes for Robben Luwin's."

"How is our siege equipment?" Gerald muttered. He found that he was too naive. What made him think that he could manipulate a mercenary? A man who sold his sword and survived for this long could be nothing but shrewd to the bone. He'd overlooked that. He'd thought that he could use the enmity between the mercenaries and the bandits to his advantage. But it turned out that Edgar intended to use his need for victory to his band's advantage.

"We have some battering rams and ladders, and we can build more, my lord," Robard said. "The bandits' gates and their mud walls are thin. They could fall to our rams if our men have the time to use them. We could set our ladders and fight them on the walls while our rams break through their walls."

"And have at least half of our men slaughtered," Gerald shook his head. "I doubt we can even achieve victory like that, Robard. Our best chance was the Red Rain band. There are no other mercenaries to make use of. And even if there were, I doubt they would pit themselves against Robben Luwin regardless of the amount of gold I offer." He sighed, his breath carrying out his dismay. "What do you think, Robard. Should I give him Luwin's walls?"

"I don't think we should seek the aid of mercenaries, my lord," Robard said flatly.

"Of course you don't," Gerald chuckled. Then he rested his head on the back of the chair, thinking. "The mercenaries are vicious. Their captain realized that I couldn't do without his band in an instant, and he made use of it perfectly."

..

.

An oddly cold breeze caressed his face and awakened his senses. He sniffed and perked up from his sleepiness, his neck annoyingly sore from resting on the back of his seat. He looked out of the window and saw the darkness of the night. He'd slept. How laughable. He looked at the other side of the table and saw his head knight still sitting there. "You didn't leave?"

"You didn't give me leave, my lord," Robard said.

The study was only illuminated by the weak rays of the moon. It seemed that no one had even come to light the lamps. Perhaps they had and Robard had kept them out. "Robard," Gerald muttered.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Find Edgar," Gerald said, rubbing his sore neck. "Tell him that I accept his proposal, but his men will have to be the vanguard of the assault. If he doesn't accept, then I reject his proposal. And my rejection in that case is final."

"My lord, I thought that you . . ." Robard grew silent.

"Just do what I've told you, Robard," Gerald said. "Unless you want the army you are now commanding to degrade into a remnant of what it is now. We can't go to that battle without the Red Rain band."

"Yes, my lord," Robard stood up and saluted then left.

Besides, I can be vicious too, Gerald thought to himself.

Later that night, Robard returned with news. Edgar had agreed. But his mercenaries would need a month to rest after their continuous battles in the south. Gerald didn't mind. A month wasn't too long, and it was also about enough time to prepare for the assault on Luwin's fortress.

Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Gasper welcomed another morning at the door of his new cabin. He watched the wooden palisade that has gradually been rising around the newly established camp. He'd moved his crew north of the forest almost a fortnight ago. And an appropriate camp was finally coming into being.

He ran his hands over his new leather armor. The Viscount had gifted him this set. Recent experience had taught him that iron armor was more likely to slow him down than help him during combat.

He spied Erick hurrying towards him from afar. Erick was a reliable man compared to others in the crew. Master Rudolf had depended on him to arrange most of the patrols when Gasper had still not returned.

"Has it happened again?" Gasper sighed.

"Yes," Erick said, panting. "Riders have grazed by our territory again."

After Gasper had moved his camp north of the forest, the bandits of the north had gotten restless. They had constantly sent scouts to make sense of what was happening in the east. The news had spread faster than he'd anticipated. It had only taken a few days for the two bandit crews of the north to realize that there was a new crew establishing itself in the east. "Avoid conflict," Gasper said. "Let them scout us as much as they like. When they realize that we outnumber them, they will think twice about seeking trouble."

"Yes, chief," Erick nodded then he strode away.

Master Rudolf came next, his copper mask still attracting dubious gazes from the new recruits. Everyone respected his strength, but they still had their doubts about him. "Trouble?" the old steward asked.

"Same old," Gasper shook his head. "Our fellows in the north are still restless."

"It is as expected," Master Rudolf said. "Aside from making sure that we aren't a threat to them, they will also want to know how the Viscount will act upon knowing of our existence. If he doesn't attack us, then they will either be greedy for the east or suspicious of us. It will depend on how clever they are."

"They aren't fools," Gasper said. "That I'm sure of. The two crews of the north aren't united but they've always been patient. At least that's what Black Dog used to say. The first of them is a nameless crew that mostly avoids conflict. I once heard a Black Dog bandit call them the mud riders or something. They don't recruit and their numbers have always been the same, about 800 men. The other crew, however, is the one we should be careful of, The Nest. Their chief is called Viper, and his name is deserved."

"Deserved?" Master Rudolf asked.

"Yes," Gasper said. "He wasn't the chief of The Nest when he joined. He pretended to be an ordinary bandit. Then he ended up killing the previous chief and taking his place. That's just what I've heard among the Black Dog bandits though. I don't know a lot of what really happened. Among the other bandit crews, he's the only chief who isn't a Sky Warrior. He is like me, an Earth Warrior."

"He is like you in more than just that," Master Rudolf quipped.

Gasper chortled. They had both killed their chiefs. Though Gasper hadn't done it for power, nor had he done it by choice. Whenever he remembered that day, he would thank all that was holy for his luck. Black Dog had been wounded before their fight, which made him less of a threat. Aside from that, the hail of arrows that Ard's army had loosed on the camp that night had helped Gasper distract his opponent. In the end, he'd survived and Black Dog had died.

"We have to begin soon," Gasper said. "I doubt the Viscount likes waiting."

Master Rudolf nodded. "I agree," he said. "We should act now. Would you like me to pass some commands?"

"Yes," Gasper nodded. "Tomorrow we begin collecting coin and goods from the nearby village and the surrounding hamlets and farmsteads. I would like you to stress my next words to members of the crew as well. No one is to harm the peasants. We are only going to collect wealth. We won't take any people by force and we won't kill a single man even if there is resistance."

"I understand your sentiment," the old steward said. "But your subordinates would need an explanation. Bandits aren't supposed to be kind."

"I don't care," Gasper said icily. "These are my commands for them. I won't harm honest people during this act of ours. It's enough that we will be robbing them."

Master Rudolf sighed. "Very well," he said. "I suppose we can just say that we don't want to scare the peasants into fleeing to Ard."

"It's better than not having an excuse, I suppose," Gasper snorted. "How are the troublesome people?"

"Djark and those like him have been trying to amass others into supporting them," Master Rudolf said. "Most of our men have been busy recently though. They don't have the time to listen to them."

"All dissidents will be gone soon," Gasper said with a sneer. "Let them scheme as much as they wish."

ß---------------------------------------------------------------à

Gerald was whistling in his study when Harrid announced the arrival of the physician. "Let him in," Gerald said. "And go bring Yanna."

"Yes, my lord," Harrid nodded.

After Harrid left the study, the physician entered hurriedly. He was an aged man who seemed to have seen no less than fifty winters. He smiled kindly and bent his stiff back. "Greetings, my lord."

You had to bring me the oldest physician out there, didn't you, Arthur? Gerald waved for the man to straighten his back. "Arthur has told you why you're here, right?"

"Yes, my lord," the physician nodded. "Please let me see them."

There was a knock on the door then Harrid entered. "Yanna is outside, my lord."

"Alright, let her in, and you should come too," Gerald said.

"Me, my lord?"

"Yes," Gerald nodded.

Harrid nodded and hurried outside. It only took him a moment to come back inside with Yanna. She hastily bowed to Gerald once she entered.

"Them, my lord?" the physician asked.

"Yes," Gerald answered. Then he looked at the two children. "Let him check you."

Harrid and Yanna nodded in response.

The old man approached Harrid first and checked his hair and eyes. Then he ran a small copper tool over the boy's teeth. Once he finished checking Harrid's teeth, he moved on to his joints. He bent them, knocked on them with a wooden tool, and pressed them with his fingers. Gerald didn't find any signs of pain on Harrid's face though.

Soon, the physician moved on to Yanna and did the same. However, while he was checking Yanna, he stopped and looked at her dubiously for a moment. Then he checked her twice more than he did Harrid. When he was done, he wiped some sweat off his forehead and looked at Gerald.

"Are you finished?" Gerald said.

"Yes, my lord," the physician said.

Gerald cocked his head expectantly.

"Well," the physician inhaled deeply. "The boy is 12 years of age, my lord."

Gerald nodded. "And the girl?"

"She is 14 years of age, my lord."

"What?" Gerald widened his eyes. He pointed at the frail Yanna and said, "her?"

"Yes, my lord," the physician smiled wryly. "She looks younger than she truly is. I assume the reason is malnourishment in her earlier years. Her real age will be more visible as she grows older."

Gerald shot Yanna a dubious look, not unlike the physician's earlier one. The girl seemed as surprised as him though. "And you're certain?" Gerald asked the physician.

"Yes, my lord," the old man nodded.

"Very well," Gerald sighed. "You may leave now."

The physician quickly bowed then left the study.

Gerald eyed the two children. Harrid was staring at Yanna. She looked back at the boy with a grin, which almost made him chuckle.

"You're older than I expected, Yanna," Gerald chuckled. However, her age didn't matter that much to him. He just wanted them to know their own age. "How is learning to read going for you two?"

Yanna smiled and said, "it is going very well, my lord. The head maid has taught me a lot."

Gerald nodded and looked at Harrid. "And you Harrid?"

The boy scratched the back of his head, his eyes shifting in embarrassment. "I train with the sword most of the time, my lord," he said. "My master said that I'm a very good learner."

Gerald smirked. "I'm asking about your reading, silly boy, not your training," Gerald said, shaking his head. "Regardless, I'm glad you two are doing well. Do you still sleep in the maids' quarters, Yanna?"

"Yes, my lord," Yanna said.

"You shall have your own chamber from today," Gerald smiled. This was her delayed reward. He couldn't think of a better one for her. He wouldn't give her coin, as she could do nothing with it. And learning to read wasn't much of a reward, as Harrid had already begun learning once he'd arrived at the keep.

"Thank you, my lord," Yanna said. Then she hesitated before speaking again. "Can I help you again, my lord?"

"No," Gerald shook his head.

"A guard could come with us when we leave the keep," she said.

"You told me before that it would scare your friends in the streets," Gerald said, cocking his head. Then he suddenly thought of something. "Why don't you let those people of yours come to you, instead of you going to them."

The girl tilted her head, puzzled. "How, my lord? Should they come here to the keep?"

Gerald chuckled. "No, not to the keep. I will give you a house in Ard. There will be a guard hiding in the house with you, and several others around it. The homeless ones that know of you could visit you there every once in a while to deliver news. They already know that you can give them coin."

"I'm not sure if they would come, my lord," Yanna said.

"Try," Gerald smiled. "Let's hope it works. You can begin tomorrow after I arrange a place for you to receive those people."

Yanna nodded.

"And you," Gerald shot Harrid a stare. "You better learn to read soon. I need someone to arrange these scattered parchments. That's what attendants do."

"Yes, my lord," Harrid nodded quickly.

"Very well, you two can leave," Gerald smiled.

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

In the Lord's Hall, Gerald was in his seat, looking down at Arthur, Robard, and Renard. "How are the preparations?" he asked.

Robard cleared his throat and spoke, "my lord, Kale has built the additional rams and ladders that you have requested. He has now begun working on more shields for the infantry, and some mantlets to protect the vanguard from enemy arrows. Considering that we still have more than a fortnight until the assault, he should be able to craft a considerable amount of the requested equipment."

Kale had recently proven to be more than just a bowyer by outdoing most of the woodworkers in the castle. He had built the more complicated kind of battering rams by adding wheels to the normally carried ones. He had also added an overhead thick wood cover to protect the men pushing it. It was a rough imitation of the more sophisticated battering rams used in richer armies. Gerald had begun depending on the skilled craftsman for most of his needs when it came to wooden equipment for the army. Kale would craft the shields with the help of the blacksmith, and fashion some large wooden mantlets that would serve as gigantic wheeled shields.

Gerald eyed Arthur with pressed lips as he held back a smile. "I know you're dying to speak, Arthur. Go ahead."

"Thank you, my lord," Arthur let out a breath. "Organizing the army for the assault has been cruel on the treasury. We have already gone past 1000 gold coins in expenses, and I expect us to reach 2000 by the time of the assault. This will leave our treasury with 9000 gold, which isn't much different from how we began when your lordship first returned."

"There is nothing to worry about, Arthur," Gerald shook his head. "The gold we will gain from the Silver crew's camp will cover more than just our expenses."

Arthur looked troubled then said, "but what if—"

"If we don't win the battle?" Gerald interrupted him. "In that case, gold will be the least of our concerns. Whoever comes out defeated from this battle will suffer great losses. We won't just lose gold if we aren't victorious."

Arthur sighed, looking crestfallen then said, "I understand, my lord. And I'm certain of your victory."

"If you are certain of my victory, then you shouldn't be worry about the treasury," Gerald chuckled. "Robard, what did Edgar tell you about the Silver crew?"

"They number 2500, my lord," Robard said solemnly. "Their patrols are strict and their men have some discipline. It is difficult to surprise them. Our approach will certainly be noticed, and they will be prepared."

"Their numbers increased quickly," Gerald rubbed his chin.

"Edgar said that they never stopped recruiting, my lord," Robard explained. "As long as a man has seen blood before and knows how to handle a blade, they will accept him into their ranks. That's why their numbers have exceeded that of any ordinary mercenary band."

"I'm curious," Gerald said. "What is Robben Luwin aiming for? He is recruiting so many men, when he only needs a few to rob all the riches within reach. But I suppose we will know when we defeat him. I hope he surrenders instead of dying in battle."

"Edgar has said that his men would be able to gain us a small foothold on the wall at the beginning of battle, my lord," Robard continued. "But he will need our continuous support after that. It will be difficult for Luwin to use numbers against the Red Rain band on the narrow walls, but it's possible that they will be worn down over time."

"He doesn't have to worry," Gerald snorted. "Our men will be right behind him. If his men are slaughtered, my assault will be hindered as well."

"Very well, my lord," Robard said. "There is also the other matter of the brigands in the east preying upon the peasants."

"Yes," Gerald said. He had spoken to Robard about the matter. The head knight knew that he was going to play an act against the supposed bandits. Gasper would send some of his men to be sacrificed under the army's hooves while Robard would handle the sacrifices and won't pursue Gasper's crew anymore. After the sacrifice, there would be a confrontation between Gasper's men and Robard's men, but there wouldn't be a real battle. Robard would retreat to Ard with the heads of the unfortunate souls that were sent to their deaths, and Gasper would return to his camp with a victor's dignity. The plan was prepared, and all that was left was Gerald's announcement for the 'sweep'. "In two days, you will take the 500-man cavalry of Ard and sweep the east clean of bandit remnants. You will bring their heads back to Ard to be made an example of."

"Yes, my lord," Robard saluted. The head knight had argued before that the people would lose their newly-found faith in Ard's army when they find out that the upcoming 'sweep' of the east is unsuccessful. For now, the people would believe that the bandits in the east were just remnants. Robard would wipe them out, and the people would relax. But it wouldn't take long for the news to spread that a crew had sprouted up in the east. Gerald, however, had assured his knight that by that time, the army would have rendered more achievements.

"With no more matters at hand. This assembly's ended," Gerald announced to his aides. "You may leave."

ß-------------------------------------------------à

Gasper leaned on the table as he sat, listening to Master Rudolf. The latter was talking about their recent ventures in robbing the farmers in the surrounding lands. It wasn't gratifying to hear about. Gasper just rested his cheek on his fist in boredom. The farmers had been robbed clean by the previous crews. His men hardly found a thing of worth in the hands of the miserably poor people during the past two days.

"The Viscount should be sending his men in the next few days," Gasper yawned.

"Yes," Master Rudolf nodded. "The earlier the better. The bandit crews in the north have been getting more restless lately. A clash between our crew and the Viscount's will buy us enough respect to not be provoked."

Gasper nodded. He was about to talk about whom to send to receive the brunt of the Viscount's attack when there was a hurried knock on the cabin's door. "Come in."

The door was pushed open and Erick came in. "Chief," he said. "Something has happened."

"I doubt it could be anything new," Gasper snorted. "What is it?"

"Our men were in the village south of the forest earlier this morning," Erick explained while rubbing his fingers anxiously, as if trying to prepare Gasper for something. "They've brought back some goods, and even some coin."

"And?" Gasper cocked his head.

"There was an incident," Erick's voice got fainter. "A peasant had an argument with one of our men, Ornell."

Gasper stood up slowly. "What happened after?"

"The matter got a little heated," Erick said, slightly panting. "Ornell wanted to search one of the rooms in the peasant's house, and the peasant didn't allow it."

Gasper moved closer to Erick as the latter paused, but Master Rudolf signaled for him to continue.

"There was a little push and shove between them," Erick continue. "That's when the peasant's sick wife came out of the said room. She tried to separate them, but she failed. Eventually, the argument caused a slight chin injury to Ornell."

"Isn't Ornell one of Djark's dogs?" Master Rudolf asked.

"Yes," Erick nodded.

"Continue," Gasper said, still tense.

"Ornell didn't take it well," Erick said, growing silent for a moment. "He . . . He killed the whole family."

Gasper gulped through his dry throat. "Family?" he asked. "There were children?"

"The wife was with child," Erick said, his face a little pale.

Gasper heard the words and his body felt soft. He watched his hand shake ever so slightly. "Why did he kill both of them?" he asked, but he didn't give Erick a chance to answer as he followed with another question. "Did you bury them?"

"Ornell d-didn't give anyone a chance," Erick stuttered. "He dragged their bodies into the shed and burned it down."

Master Rudolf noticed Gasper's trembling arms and waved for Erick to leave. The latter complied hurriedly and left the cabin.

"Not even a burial," Gasper inhaled with all his strength. For some reason, he just felt that his breath was short, as if he couldn't have enough air. With each breath, the trembling in his limbs would become more intense. "The people I'm supposed to protect," he said, staring at the old steward beside him. It wasn't a mishap. It wasn't by mistake. It was cold-blooded slaughter for a chin scratch. "The people I am sworn to protect," Gasper growled, his voice hoarse. He dipped his face in his hands, his nails nearly piercing the skin.

"It's Djark's doing," Master Rudolf said. "They are trying to undermine you, Gasper. You gave the command to not harm peasants, and they defied it. They are daring you to act rashly."

"Oh, fuck them," Gasper raised his head. Then he headed towards the door, but Master Rudolf blocked him.

"You need to be calm," the old man said in a tranquil voice. "You should wait and think."

Gasper shook his head with a desperate smile. "Please," he said. "Please don't stop me. I can't let this go. I won't. If I do, I will be everything I've hated about myself till this day." Gasper's voice was pleading as he continued. "They died because I wasn't competent. So let me be."

Master Rudolf sighed and didn't move. But Gasper circled around him and walked out. The old man didn't stop him.

Gasper walked out of the cabin to the south of the camp. He spotted a crowd of men, mostly returning from collecting goods from peasants. There were guffaws and yells among the men but they quietened down as he approached. "Ornell," Gasper shouted. "Step forward."

A hairy man stepped out of the crowd in a leisure pace. He swayed a little as he stopped in front of Gasper. The shallow cut on his chin had already scabbed, and he had a mild smirk on his face. "What does the chief comm—"

He didn't get to finish his words before his eyes widened in shock. Gasper drew his sword and swung it at his neck in one fluid motion. Before Ornell could react, the sword had buried itself in his neck. He eyed the handle of the sword gripped in Gasper's hand in disbelief.

Gasper jerked the sword loose from the profusely bleeding neck. Then he swung it again with all his strength. The sword continued its work on the previous cut and cleaved through most of the bandit's neck. Ornell knelt as his eyes lost nearly all life. Gasper pulled the sword loose again as the blood splattered out of the nearly severed neck, then he swung it one more time. This time the head finally came free and fell beside the body.

The surrounding men gaped at Gasper and his blood-soaked hands. There was utter silence as everyone seemed to be digesting the shock apparent on their faces.

Gasper looked around, sweeping his eyes over his men. "I said," he yelled as loud as his throat allowed him, "no one is to kill the peasants." Then he gulped a deep breath. "And when I say," he continued, his voice full of fury. "You fucking OBEY!"

Ornell's blood had already formed a puddle below his feet as he panted, a few drops of blood running down his face. Nobody replied, but he knew that his words would ring in their heads for as long as they knew him. He turned around and slowly headed back to his cabin.

"Are peasants more important than us," a voice stopped him in his tracks.

Gasper turned around and spotted Djark crossing his arms. He was the one that'd just spoken.

"Are our lives less valuable than a peasant's, chief?" Djark loudly asked while staring Gasper in the eyes.

Gasper stared at Djark icily then walked towards him. He closed the distance between them after a few steps. His face came within a breath's reach of the former soldier's face. He knew that his answer now would decide how the surrounding men would take his previous action. He couldn't just silence Djark with a blow of his sword either. He would just seem like a madman if he killed another of his men. "No, Djark. Your lives aren't less valuable than a peasant's," Gasper answered, his voice spreading to his men. "But they are less valuable than my commands. So beware." Then he turned around and left, uninterrupted this time.

Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Gasper tightened his belt and stretched his armor as he prepared for a new day. There was a knock on the cabin's door. "Come in."

Master Rudolf was the first to enter, closely followed by Erick.

"You're here," Gasper muttered. Then he looked at the masked old steward. "How fare my men after yesterday?"

"Some have taken Ornell's tragedy as an example to learn from," Master Rudolf said. "Others are disturbed, and maybe even panicked."

"And Djark?" Gasper asked.

"Some of his lackeys have chosen caution and left his side," Erick was the one to answer this time. "But some others who didn't follow him before have begun supporting him. Unfortunately, the number of people he influences in the crew has risen."

There was a loud sigh, which Gasper realized came from Master Rudolf. The old man soon spoke again. "That is not all," he said. "There were two others like Djark, but they used to scheme in the dark before. Daunted by your public execution yesterday, they have joined the ranks of Djark."

"How many men support Djark now?" Gasper said.

"No less than 150 men," Master Rudolf said.

Gasper nodded then turned to Erick. "Summon Djark and his men to the middle of the camp. I have some commands to give them."

Erick nodded in affirmation. Before he left, Master Rudolf mouthed several names for him to summon along with the rest. They were the names of the men Erick wasn't aware were now following Djark.

After Erick left to summon the men, Master Rudolf spoke again. "Do you believe it's time?"

"Even if it isn't," Gasper said. "It's better to have Djark away from the camp than within it."

"True," the old man nodded. "I suppose we will see how he'll receive the news."

"He will either be infuriated because I will distance him from the rest of my men who he wants to tempt into following him," Gasper said. "Or he will rejoice, because he will have the chance to further separate his men from my crew. He could consider it a good start if he wants to strike out on his own and build a crew for himself soon."

"Hmm," Master Rudolf nodded again. "He might imagine that he will have all the time needed to persuade those men to leave with him later."

"Well," Gasper snorted. "He will have some time. But there will be no 'later'"

"I suppose not," Master Rudolf chuckled.

After a while, Gasper left the cabin followed by Master Rudolf. He headed to the middle of the camp where Djark and his men were summoned. A bit less than 150 men were gathered, and Djark was heading them. There were whispers and hisses among the men. Apparently they were a bit unsettled. Perhaps they thought Gasper was going to act against them now. Djark, however, didn't seem worried.

"Shut your flapping traps already," Gasper yelled. "There are things for you to do. So you better listen to my commands carefully."

The mutterings and hisses among the crowd died down with Gasper's words. The attention of the men was soon aimed at him.

"All those who have been summoned here will leave the camp at noon," Gasper said loudly. "You will begin patrolling west of the forest. You must prevent any peasants from fleeing to Ard. You must also prevent Ard's scouts from reaching the farmsteads and hamlets that are under our control. It's time for those in Ard to understand that this is no longer their land."

There was silence in response, as if the men were numb to his words. Perhaps they were still waiting for him to deliver worse news about their fate. But he wouldn't. Their fate would be his little surprise for them.

"The man in command will be Djark," Gasper continued. "You will take enough rations for the ten days you will spend away from the camp. Then you will return after that and be replaced by others. The lands between us and Ard must always be watched."

A smirk came over Djark's face when he heard that he was going to be in command. It didn't seem like he was going to question why 150 men were going to be sent instead of only a few good scouts. He was too pleased with the fact that he would have this opportunity to realize the oddity of the matter, or at least Gasper assumed so.

"We will do as you command, chief," Djark yelled. Then the men behind him shouted in agreement.

"Good," Gasper smiled. But inside he thought otherwise. Fool, Gasper looked at him then ran his eyes over the rest of the men. No. Fools.

After noon the selected men left the camp led by Djark. They were to stay west of the forest for ten days then return. Gasper rested in his cabin after sending them off. Now he would wait.

…

..

.

Two days later, he received the 'shocking' news in the morning. Half a regiment of cavalry from Ard had ridden his men down west of the forest the previous night. Ard's soldiers had done it so thoroughly that none of his men returned. Only after one of his scouts came upon the remains of the battle did he return to the camp and inform Erick. According to him, the cavalry of Ard was still present west of the forest.

Gasper was prepared for the news. He quickly roused his crew. His men weren't as ready as him, but before noon they were armed and ready. On his horse, and with Master Rudolf and Erick riding beside him, he led all of his men towards the southwest.

The sun was halfway down the horizon when they reached the remains of the battle. The bloody corpses were minced into unrecognizable piles of meat and bone. It was obvious that the mountless men led by Djark hadn't stood against Ard's cavalry. The mounted soldiers had ridden the bandits down and mixed their flesh with the dirt. Any man who knew a thing about war would know what this was no battle. It was slaughter.

After watching the sight for a while, Master Rudolf trotted closer to Gasper with his horse. "Do you think Djark is dead for certain?" he whispered.

"He should be," Gasper replied, his voice suppressed. "Does it matter, though? If the 500-man cavalry of Ard can't surround and kill 150 mountless bandits properly, then Djark might be the least of our worries."

The old steward nodded in agreement.

After a few moments of silence, he heard the sound of the ground being struck repeatedly akin to the suppressed beating of drums.

Erick Rode closer to Gasper and said, "horses."

"Yes," Gasper held back a smile. Then he turned to his men and began his speech. "Ard's cavalry is coming," he roared. "They have used their numbers to slaughter our comrades here, on this land. Now we outnumber them, four of us for each of them. We shall pay them back for last night's debt!"

There were a few yells that soon gathered shouts of agreement among the men. The response was enough for Gasper. He looked ahead again and saw the cavalry appearing in the distance. He drew his sword and pointed it at Ard's soldiers. "prepare your blades for their blood," he roared before trotting towards the rallied cavalry. His men charged from behind him and almost overtook his slow trot. He knew that there wasn't going to be a real battle. He didn't need to wait for his men to charge first. It was time to show his 'courage'. He roused his horse into a gallop, and he rode ahead, distancing himself from his men.

After he and his crew had covered half the distance to the enemy, the cavalry on the other side seemed to be turning around. He didn't slow down, supposedly unwitting of what they were doing. Soon the cavalry of Ard began riding in the opposite direction instead of charging at him and his men.

It took a few moments for his men to notice the oddity happening on their enemy's side. Then the charge slowed down gradually until it came to an eventless halt. If the enemy cavalry wanted to flee, then it wasn't possible for the bandits who had no mounts to chase.

Gasper brought his horse to a halt and turned around. He raised his sword high and pointed at the fleeing cavalry. "Ard's soldiers flees before us," he yelled. "The east is ours!"

"The east is ours!" his men echoed, almost hesitantly. Was the east theirs without a battle?

Gasper, however, didn't need to convince them. He only needed those who would hear of this convinced. The other bandit crews wouldn't pursue the specifics of his confrontation with Ard's army. They would only hear about a battle and a bloody battlefield. It would be difficult for them to know what happened with the Viscount not disclosing the events clearly, and with no one from Gasper's crew to tell the story as it truly was.

All Gasper needed was for the bandit crews in the north to hear about a conflict between his crew and Ard. With a few roars that encouraged his men, he turned them around and led them back towards their camp with a jest of a victory in his hands.

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Gerald eyed Robard with a smile. The head knight was standing ahead of Renard and Arthur in the Lord's hall. Gerald patted the armrest of his seat before he spoke. "You have done well, Robard. You returned last night with the heads of the vermin from the east and no dead in your ranks."

"It is only my duty, my lord," Robard said stiffly, apparently not used to pretending. "Only a few were lightly wounded among the horsemen I led. The brigands didn't expect us. They panicked and paid the price."

Gerald nodded. "Have you handled their remains?"

"There were hardly any, my lord," Robard smiled wryly. "We brought back the heads of a few of their dead, and we've spiked them outside of the walls to deter any others from similarly treading the path of banditry."

"That should fulfill the purpose," Gerald said. The true purpose, however, was letting everyone know that Ard's army had attacked the bandits in the east. Gerald could have brought many more heads from his previous campaign if he'd wanted to. "You had news, Arthur?"

"Yes, my lord," Arthur forced a smile and stepped forward. "The mercenaries have sent someone to demand the promised gold today."

"This early?" Gerald glanced at Robard.

"It's most likely their red gold, my lord," Robard said. "I'm not surprised they'd ask for their coin now."

"Red gold?" Gerald asked, cocking his head.

"Yes, my lord. It's known among sellswords that a difficult battle means possible death," Robard explained. "When there is such a battle ahead of them, the mercenaries with no families to support prefer to spend at least half of their earned gold on enjoying the last few days before battle. They call the coin spent at such times 'red gold'. The gold that pays for their blood."

Gerald grew silent for a moment. He could almost sympathize with the mercenaries. Even if only one out of each four of them died, it could be any one of them. Selling your sword meant that you were prepared for risky battles such as this one. To go to battle knowing that you were likely to die was nothing short of cruel. That was why Gerald hadn't wanted his men to fight the coming battle on their own. He knew that they would brave dangers and death for him because of their loyalty, but he didn't want them to bleed too much for too little. He didn't want a great many of them falling in battle against mere bandits.

"Send them their gold," Gerald sighed. "I doubt they would risk their reputation and abandon us after receiving it. At least they wouldn't do it for so little gold."

Arthur's mouth twitched a little before he pressed his lips, as if trying not to seem upset. "This will leave our treasury with only 7000 gold before the battle, my lord."

"We've spoken of this matter already, haven't we, Arthur?" Gerald said, his voice a little icy. "Just pay the gold. We can always get more later. Hoarding it is of no use."

"Yes, my lord," Arthur nodded in resignation. "I will make sure to deliver them their coin soon."

"Very well," Gerald said, waving his hand. "This assembly's over. You may leave."

After his aides left the hall, Gerald sat there, thinking. The other bandit crews should be hearing of the conflict soon. He wondered how long it would take Gasper to gain their trust.

ß--------------------------------------------------------------------à

Two days after the cavalry from Ard attacked, Gasper received a messenger from one of the crews in the north. His men had spotted the rider trotting towards the camp from the northwest, carrying a blank flag. It was quite surprising that the bandits would act so quickly after the battle, sending him a messenger. Gasper believed that they were somewhat desperate. The Viscount had made them feel that their days were numbered.

He and Master Rudolf received the messenger in the cabin.

Gasper was seated behind a table when the messenger entered, and Master Rudolf was standing beside him.

The skinny young man who entered didn't seem to be new to the profession. He nodded to the pair calmly and stood on the other side of the table. "I bring word from The Nest. How may I call you?"

"I'm Gasper, the chief of this crew," Gasper said. "Now speak."

The messenger nodded. "My chief, Viper, is informing you that all the bandit chiefs in the basin are assembling three days from now in the village near the northern pass."

"All the chiefs?" Master Rudolf spoke for the first time. "Does that include Robben Luwin?"

The young messenger glared at the masked steward icily but didn't reply.

"This is Skymask, my lieutenant. Answer him," Gasper said. He hadn't actually come up with that name for Master Rudolf. But his men had started calling the old man by peculiar names. The most common of which was Skymask, apparently alluding to the old man's mask and his strength as a Sky Warrior.

The messenger snorted and shook his head. "Robben Luwin is a bloody sellsword who is overstretching his hands. He isn't one of us."

Gasper wanted to chuckle in response. As if being one of 'us' would give anyone pride.

"The two chiefs in the west and the two chiefs in the north will be present," the messenger continued. "The assembly will be in the interest of all crews. You can bring 20 men as your guard, but no more. Whether to attend or not is your choice."

"hmm," Gasper rested his chin on his fingers. "Deliver my thanks to Viper. Tell him that I will attend."

"I will," the messenger said. "The assembly will be at midnight. If there is nothing else, I will take my leave."

Gasper nodded, and the young messenger left the cabin. He would be received outside by Erick who would accompany him to the gates.

Gasper turned to master Rudolf with a sigh. "Quite fast, aren't they?"

"Indeed," the old steward nodded. "It seems that they want to gather as many allies as they can. They have been occupying the sleeping tiger's mountain for long, but now the predator is up and awake. They don't know when to expect another swift attack from the Viscount. I would be unsettled too."

Gasper nodded in agreement. "Should we inform the Viscount now?"

Master Rudolf shook his head. "No need. I will visit him after you assemble with the other chiefs. So far, there is nothing of importance to inform him of."

"Alright," Gasper said. "I don't trust the bandits though."

"Only a fool would," Master Rudolf chuckled. "We should just be cautious enough not to walk into a trap. The village where they'll meet isn't far from your crew's territory. We can always ride back as fast as we can."

"Yes, I suppose," Gasper said. Then he grew silent. He'd been among bandits before. But back then, he'd been a subordinate of Black Dog's, not an equal. He didn't know how he was supposed to handle the other chiefs. He'd been preparing, but he'd never been to a negotiation among bandits before.

"You seem worried," Master Rudolf interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes, I . . ." Gasper grew silent again. " I don't know," he shook his head.

The old steward patted him on the shoulder. "You don't need to make it difficult for yourself, Gasper. During the talks with the other bandits, just do what you would do in combat. Give no quarter."

Gasper listened to Master Rudolf's advice and reflected on it briefly. Then he broke into a smile. "Very well."

…

..

.

Three days later, Gasper had his men gather what few horses they had in the camp. He took 17 men, including Master Rudolf, and departed, leaving the camp in the hands of Erick. It was just after dusk when they left the camp, riding north.

They rode hard until they reached the edge of their crew's territory. But Gasper slowed his men down as they entered the northern crews' lands. He had to be cautious from then on. He sent a few of his men to scout around their path for a possible ambush, but all they spotted was a scout keeping an eye on their route.

It didn't take them too long to arrive. They reached the outskirts of the village a bit earlier than midnight. Gasper halted his men and ran his eyes over their destination. The houses were mostly dark, without the least bit of light. The paths amidst those houses were deserted. He guessed that the bandits had told the peasants to stay in their houses or face the consequences.

He soon spotted some light at the edge of the forest. There were a few torches lit around a lonely house, and some men crowding near it. It took a few moments for a rider to approach Gasper and his men from that direction.

The rider waved his hands as he rode closer. "Chief Gasper?"

"Yes," Gasper nodded. "Are they here?"

The rider shook his head. "It's still a bit early. The chiefs from the west haven't arrived yet."

"I suppose we'll have to wait then," Gasper said.

"Yes, but not for long," the rider said. " Follow me. I will lead you to the place of the assembly." Then he turned his mount around and trotted towards the village again.

Gasper gestured for only half of his men to go with him then he followed the rider towards the house. They trotted to the edge of the village and by the men crowding near the house. Gasper noticed that some of those men seemed to be well-armed and armored, as if they were soldiers not bandits. Nevertheless, he found nothing amiss as they moved past them, but he saw that the rider hadn't stopped by the house. "They're not in there?" Gasper pointed at the house with the torches.

The rider chuckled. "No. This is just the house that catches the eye in case things go awry. Your men should stay near it. The real place is there." He pointed ahead where a smaller, more disheveled house stood in the darkness. Its windows were barricaded so that one couldn't even tell if there were lights inside.

Gasper glanced at Master Rudolf who nodded reassuringly. He gestured for his men to stay near the house and trotted along with Master Rudolf to the smaller house.

The rider dismounted in front of the house, and the pair followed him. He knocked on the door, and someone quickly opened. He whispered something to whoever opened it then the door was closed again. A few moments later, the door was swung open and a blonde young man came out.

"Chief Gasper," the blonde man said, smiling at the pair. His eyes stopped at Master Rudolf's mask for a moment but he didn't show any apprehension. "I'm Marco, Viper's lieutenant. Please follow me inside."

Gasper returned the smile. "Alright."

Marco turned and headed inside while Gasper and Master Rudolf followed. The house didn't have too many rooms. It only took them a few steps, then Marco opened another door and led them into a well-lit room. In the middle of the it, there was a ragged round table. On the further side of the table, two men sat beside each other.

The first to catch Gasper's eye was a man that seemed to be past forty years of age. His hair was dark, and he wore a shiny set of armor that reminded Gasper of Sir Robard.

Is that steel? Gasper wondered.

Beside the heavily armored man, sat another who was much thinner. His chin was cleanly shaven, and his cheekbones were slightly protruding. Gasper recognized him, even though he'd never met him before. The name could just fit on that face. Viper.

Viper stood up with a wide smile. "Gasper, isn't it?"

"I am," Gasper nodded. "Viper, yes?"

"Indeed," Viper said, gesturing towards a chair to his left. "Take a seat, my new friend."

I'm certain you're a worse friend than an enemy, Gasper thought. But he kept his smile on the surface. "Thank you." Then he sat down while Master Rudolf stood behind him.

Marco stood behind his chief, his smile fading as if he was forcing it. Viper pointed to the man in shiny armor who sat on his right. "This is Lucas, the chief of the Dirt Knights," Viper said while giggling.

"I told you not to call my men that, you damn snake," Lucas glared at him.

"But your crew is true to that name, Sir Lucas," Viper said innocently.

"Don't call me a Sir," Lucas said, somewhat calming down. It seemed that he'd realized that Viper was just provoking him for a laugh.

Viper leaned towards Gasper and whispered, "he is a dishonored knight. He used to serve a prominent noble, but he took as many men as he could and abandoned his lord in his time of need."

It explained the steel armor. Only nobles, knights, and very rich people could own a set of steel armor. Knights would either inherit it from their family or be gifted one by their lord. Gasper raised a brow and eyed Lucas. The man didn't look like a traitor. But then again, if a traitor was easy to recognize, he wouldn't have the chance to betray. Lucas glanced back at him briefly but without expression. Gasper hated this assembly of vermin even more now.

"What's this assembly for?" Gasper asked.

"A pact," Viper said, frowning. "Our crews are always in danger as long as that damn lord has an army. We have to unite, otherwise we will all perish."

"Indeed," Gasper nodded. "However, It would be difficult to fight together when we don't know when he will come."

Viper chuckled. "Fear not. We have our ears in Ard. Last time, he took Black Dog and Big Mountain by surprise. But now we're alert. We would hear about it before his army takes a step out of Ard's gates."

Gasper listened in silence and didn't respond. He wasn't awfully surprised. It was expected that the bandits would have some source of news within the castle. But according to Viper's words, they could get wind of the army's movements quite early. It was something to keep in mind.

However, he would have to wait until the other chiefs arrive if he wanted to know more. He didn't want to sound overly curious at the moment. He doubted that Viper really trusted him, even with the friendly countenance he was showing him.

Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Gasper observed Lucas again. The former knight was gazing at the door, his arms crossed and his eyes listless. Gasper knew that his gaze was noticed but ignored. It took a moment for him to realize that Lucas was the only one among them without a guard. Gasper had Master Rudolf while Viper had Marco. But the armored knight had no one behind him. Perhaps he was confident of protecting himself if something happened. He was supposed to be a Sky Warrior, after all. Gasper didn't really care. If something went awry, no one could be ensured of their safety, with or without a guard.

Viper was exchanging a few whispers with his lieutenant when Gasper moved his eyes away from Lucas. The chief of The Nest had a hissing tone to his whispers, eerie enough to bring shivers to one's skin.

Gasper waited until Viper finished then spoke. "Tell me about the other two chiefs, will you?"

"Certainly," Viper grinned. "They are actually quite peculiar. The two of them are siblings."

"They're siblings?" Gasper stared at Viper, bewildered. "Why aren't they in a single crew?"

"They're not true siblings," Viper chuckled. "They were actually taken in from the streets by a wandering Heaven Warrior when they were young. Apparently, their 'father' was always looking for talented youths to adopt."

"So they're not related by blood," Gasper said, nodding.

"Yes," Viper continued. "They consider each other brother and sister, and they used to have more siblings as well."

"Regarding that," Gasper said. "Where is their father and their other siblings?"

"Dead," Viper said. "The whole 'family' was in the Mali Kingdom 20 years ago, at the time of that purple plague. Their father caught it, and then his children. The two of them were the only ones who survived."

"I still don't understand," Gasper said. "Why haven't they formed one crew together?"

Viper sighed. "Their relationship isn't so simple. The two are often at odds, even though they would always unite against strangers."

"Their names?" Gasper asked. He hadn't heard much about the bandits of the west when he'd been in Black Dog's crew. He had mostly heard about Big Mountain and Viper.

"Harland and Edith. Edith is a year older, and her temper is the worst," Viper explained. "Harland is calmer, but he isn't less stubborn than his sister."

"Do they ever have real conflict between their crews?" Gasper said.

"Not really," Viper shook his head with a sneer. "They're just like quarreling children. They yell at each other, but no blood is ever shed between them. Their camps are in the same forest west of Ard. Their father had taught them how to survive in forests. Each of them has the skills of a ranger, so they chose to settle their crews there for safety."

"Hmm," Gasper nodded. "They can't balance the leadership between them in a single crew, so they chose to each lead their own, but they stay close to each other at the same time."

"Yes," Viper said. "They're the least likely to be wiped out by the Viscount. Their camps are deep inside the forest, and they are close enough to each other to fight together in times of danger."

There was a loud knock on the house's door. Marco went outside upon hearing it.

"It seems they're here," Viper said.

Gasper fixed his eyes on the door of the room and waited. A moment later, Marco entered first, followed by the two chiefs. The pair were middle-aged and had grim faces. Harland was tall with wide shoulders and a pale complexion. Edith had crossed scars on her cheek, braided hair, and her gaze was piercing as it fell on Lucas upon entering

"You damn knights do keep your words, after all," she guffawed, her voice thicker than Gasper had expected. "You put our conflict aside and came to the assembly."

"I was hoping you wouldn't," Lucas grunted.

"Why wouldn't I?" she grinned. "Do you think I'm afraid of you, Sir Knight?"

"I'm not a damn knight," Lucas said.

"Then don't act like an obstinate one," she snorted. "You should let go when your hand is weaker."

"You're too greedy, Edith," Lucas said. "If you think you can take what's mine, then you're just another fool."

"Can't you see your territory is too large for the number of men you have?" Edith said, grinning again. "The scales are tipped in my favor. Don't think that I'm afraid of your 'trained' men."

"My men are much better than the rats you lead," Lucas stared her down. His tone didn't suggest that he was simply angry anymore. There was a certain coldness to it. "If you ever think my men can't take your numbers, then bring your rabble and I will make their corpses my proof. You know very well that you wouldn't be the first to underestimate me and suffer for it."

"Can't we have some peace with you two?" Viper sighed emotionally. "We've already agreed to resolve this problem, haven't we. It's one of the reasons we're here today."

Edith just snorted again but didn't refute. She picked a chair and sat opposite Viper, while Harland sat opposite Gasper. Two lieutenants shortly followed the two chiefs into the room and stood behind them.

"Now to the important matters," Viper rubbed his hands together. "This is Gasper, the chief of the youngest crew in the basin." He pointed at Gasper. "He has joined us today in the hopes of forming a pact with us."

Gasper just glanced at Viper. They were the ones who'd invited him. He hadn't really shown any enthusiasm for their little pact yet. Viper was already twisting truths.

"Then has he agreed to our condition yet?" Edith eyed Gasper.

"We didn't want to be hasty," Viper said with a smile. "So we haven't informed Gasper of our agreement yet."

"What agreement?" Gasper said, slightly alerted. The other chiefs seemed to have already an agreed upon condition that was likely unkind. If it was anything simple, Viper would have blabbered about it before.

Harland grunted and leaned on the table, moving his face as close as he could to Gasper's. "You have to give up a third of your territory."

Gasper's face froze. He turned to Viper and fixed him with a stare. The latter just shrugged as if he was helpless. Gasper ran his eyes over the faces of the chiefs. Lucas stayed silent with nearly closed eyes, seemingly uncaring. Edith stared at Gasper with a sneer, and Harland was visibly awaiting a response.

Gasper suddenly let out a snort, and then he broke into laughter. "This is a jest, yes?" He stared each of them in the eye. "It must be a jest. It can't be anything else, because I have no reason to give you my land," he said, his voice icy and his face turning emotionless again.

Viper coughed, trying to break the tension. "You have to look at it differently, Gasper. You will give me the said third of your territory, while I will give Lucas a considerable part of my territory as well. Lucas, in turn, will let go of the piece of land that Edith has been vying for. Everyone will be happy."

"Except me," Gasper said. They were planning to rip his flesh off and divide it among themselves. He wondered where they got the gall to present such a demand.

"Well, you will have our protection," Viper said.

Gasper eyed him, and he felt like laughing again. Viper's words sounded quite insolent to him. "Your protection? I thought this was supposed to be an alliance. Why would I need your protection? If I needed protection, I wouldn't have become a bandit. The east is mine, and it will stay that way, all of it."

"You just sound stubborn now, Gasper," Viper said with a sigh. "It is indeed an alliance. But who would benefit more from it? You have about half the number of our men combined. We don't need you as much as you need us. The land you're going to give up is just to balance the scales."

"What if I don't need you?" Gasper leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "I don't see any absolute certainty from this alliance. If I blindly trust you to come to my aide in a time of need, then I might as well return home and farm the land like a peasant. I am no fool."

Viper grinned abruptly, as if he'd held back a chuckle, then he shook his head. "But you don't want to set yourself against us, do you?"

Gasper ran his eyes around the table again. Edith and Harland were staring at him, and Viper was wearing a cold smile. Lucas, on the other hand, was still unconcerned with the argument. They were threatening him now. Laughable. He decided to learn something from his late chief, Black Dog. "I was wondering if this assembly would be of any use, but it seems that I was wrong. I suppose Robben Luwin would want to hear back from me then."

As soon as Gasper's words came out of his mouth, everyone's expression changed. Lucas's sleepy eyes shot open. Edith's sneer froze, and Harland's face stiffened. Viper seemed to be hiding his gritted teeth but he kept his, now, twitching smile. "Luwin has sent you someone?"

"Perhaps," Gasper looked at him with a smirk. "But that is nothing to concern yourself about. I suppose this pact won't come to be."

"Luwin will swallow you whole when he gets the chance," Harland said, his hands balled into fists.

"At least I will lose the game on my terms," Gasper smiled. "I will not be threatened into giving up what belongs to me. If Luwin gives in to greed after the dust settles, then I don't mind showing him my fangs."

"Is this your final decision?" Viper said, narrowing his eyes.

Gasper stood up and said, "if you want to become my enemies, then I will entertain you. But remember what happened to the last two crews that chose the path of blood. I will be taking my leave now."

"Wait," Viper said, grabbing Gasper's wrist.

Gasper shot him a death stare and rested his other hand on the grip of his sword.

"Don't misunderstand," Viper said, retracting his hand. "I just don't want you to be hasty. This is not over yet."

"It isn’t?" Gasper raised a brow.

"Yes," Viper nodded fervently. "Why don't you sit again?"

"Only if you abandon every notion of taking what doesn't belong to you," Gasper said.

Viper nodded again. "Consider it forgotten."

"Very well," Gasper sat down again. "Now what?"

Harland was now leaning back in his seat and shaking his head. His sister was softly knocking on the table with her fingers while looking at Gasper menacingly.

Viper cleared his throat. "We can still form a pact with you," Viper said, pointing at himself and Lucas. "But the siblings would hardly get any benefits from allying themselves with you, so they won't."

Gasper understood the reason behind Edith's glare now. She and her brother had come here specifically for the land. They wanted Gasper to give up a third of his territory so that Lucas would let them have the piece of land they were vying for.

"However," Viper continued. "If you insist on allying yourself with Robben Luwin, we will have no choice but to . . . " He rested his hand on the sheath of his sword.

Gasper's heart skipped a beat. If they fought here, he and Master Rudolf may be able to take a few of the others with them, but they would certainly not walk out of the house alive. Thankfully, the chiefs didn't seem that intent on conflict at a time like this; otherwise, Viper wouldn't have reserved this threat until now. If they killed Gasper here, they would have a volatile crew in the east, and its new chief would certainly not trust them. There was no assurance that Gasper's crew would scatter and become theirs for the taking. And if it didn't, then they were likely to have a neighbor who was either hostile or always suspicious.

If Gasper were to guess, then Harland and Edith were inclined to cut his throat right here. They had nothing to lose and much to gain. But Viper and Lucas were standing in the way of that. They likely valued him as another ally for them.

He kept his composure though. It wasn't the first time he was this close to death. He came much closer to it in the past. "Robben Luwin isn't the most promising ally. If there is a better choice, I will take it."

Viper moved his hand away from his sword. "That is very good to hear. We need each other, after all. Lucas's men and mine are ready to come to your aid if you are ever attacked by the Viscount or Luwin. You have to be ready to come to ours when we are in need as well. That is our offer."

"It's acceptable," Gasper said.

Once they agreed, Edith leaned back into her chair like her brother. She looked at Lucas with a sneer. "It seems our conflict won't end today."

"Yes, it will," Lucas laid his hands on the table, his voice tranquil but decisive. "I will have no more of your little games. No more skirmishes. If your men step into my territory again, I will slaughter them like the animals they are. If you step into my territory, then I will cut your throat and let the wolves eat your corpse."

"Watch your words!" Harland growled, standing up.

"It's good of you to remind me, Harland," Lucas eyed him from head to toe. "If your sister gets herself killed at my hands, then I won't stop there. I will come for you as well, even if I have to burn your whole damn forest down."

Viper sat motionless beside Lucas, looking at Gasper helplessly, as if trying to avoid Lucas's outburst. Apparently, Lucas had come to this assembly with the intent of ending this matter for good.

Harland silently glared at Lucas. But his sister stood up and furiously kicked her chair to the side. The chair smashed into the wall with a loud crash. She glared at both Lucas and Viper then her glare moved to Gasper. She took a deep breath then turned around and strode out of the room. Her brother shortly followed her. A moment later, Gasper heard the door of the house being opened then slammed shut.

"I suppose she gave up?" Gasper asked Viper.

"She has been testing Lucas's patience for a while," Viper said. "If she doesn't know when to stop, then it will only end badly for her. But this means our pact with them will get a little complicated. I will need to talk to them again soon, after they've calmed down."

Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Gasper, Viper, and Lucas put their hands on top of each other on the table then swore to come to each other's aid in times of need.

A deserter and a mutineer, Gasper scoffed to himself. Thank all the gods that my survival doesn't really depend on their sincerity.

"A new pact is formed," Viper clapped his hands twice. "May it persist for eternity."

"We won't live for eternity, you fool," Lucas said with a snort. A frown was painted on his face as if the pact had achieved nothing for him.

"Don't mind what he says," Viper told Gasper. "His temper is still speaking for him."

Gasper didn't respond. He didn't feel any anger from Lucas. It was as if the former knight just didn't care. He didn't care about Edith. He didn't care about Harland. And he certainly didn't care about Viper and his little pact either.

Gasper found himself wondering why Lucas talked to other chiefs and attended these assemblies in the first place, but he realized the answer quickly. Lucas was likely trying to avoid being the enemy of all the crews at the same time. If he just ignored everyone, he would be viewed as an unknown. He would seem like a threat without a known time of eruption, which would set everyone against him.

Lucas stood up and glanced at Viper. "You can keep celebrating your pact. I will be on my way."

"May you have a safe return, Lucas," Viper said.

Lucas just nodded to Viper in response. Gasper received a nod from Lucas as well and he returned it before former knight left the room.

"Well," Viper sighed. "This didn't go as I had expected, but the result isn't so bad."

Gasper nodded and was intending to leave to, but he stopped. "Those ears you have in Ard."

"Ah, regarding that," Viper said. "I just remembered a very lucrative offer that you should hear."

"Offer?" Gasper cocked his head.

"Yes," Viper said. "If I may ask, where do you sell the goods you rob from merchants?"

Gasper grew silent. He'd told his men to collect tolls, but never rob the merchants. It wasn't like there were many merchants passing through the basin every day. But there were some who braved the infested Viscounty carrying light goods and hoping to avoid the bandits or at least pay them a toll and pass.

"It seems that I have asked too much," Viper said apologetically. "No matter. The offer I have is better than any other methods you might have. That is if you have any, of course. There is a certain merchant in Ard who doesn't mind buying what you may call unclean goods."

Gasper was surprised this time. A merchant that could get robbed goods through the gates of Ard? That wasn't a simple matter, even if the goods were small and light. Buying the goods from bandits and somehow selling them in Ard without being noticed was nigh impossible for an ordinary merchant. "Which merchant?"

Viper shook his head with a wry smile. "We never met him. Each time different people are sent to us from Ard to collect the goods and deliver the gold. That's all. Even the people sent seldom speak. This merchant buys goods from all the crews except the Silver crew."

"And that merchant is your ear in Ard?" Gasper asked.

"Indeed," Viper smiled. "For instance, right now, we know that the Viscount is planning something with a mercenary band called the Red Rain. That is why we invited you to the assembly. We don't know who he might attack next. No crew was certain of faring well if they were attacked by the Viscount's army. Now he has a mercenary band to fight beside him too. If we don't all fight together, we will suffer the same fate as the former chiefs of the east."

"True," Gasper nodded, trying to look uneasy. "Do you know when the Viscount is planning to attack next?"

"No," Viper shook his head. "If we did, it would be much simpler. But let's discuss those matters when they come. You still haven't listened to the offer."

Gasper leaned back in his seat and pricked his ears.

"We call the merchant Canary," Viper said. "He's sent someone asking us to inform you of his offer."

"Canary?" Gasper raised a brow.

"It's the golden bird, after all," Viper shrugged. "And he did bring us a lot of a gold."

"What's his offer then?"

"It's very simple," Viper said. "He will buy any goods you have at half their price. You won't even have to deliver them. His men will arrive at your camp and take them off your hands."

Gasper thought that this was the most important news to deliver to the Viscount. Even Master Rudolf who'd stood motionless since the beginning of the assembly seemed to be listening to Viper's words intently.

"What say you?" Viper smiled.

Gasper waved his hand indifferently. "I will think about this matter, then inform you of my decision later."

"Very well," Viper said.

Gasper stood up and mustered a smile. "I'm glad we've come to an agreement today, but I ought to return now."

"Likewise," Viper said, standing up. "It has been a fruitful night. Safe return to you."

Gasper shook Viper's hand and walked out of the room then left the house. Master Rudolf followed him out into the darkness and they found their two horses tied to an aged tree. They untied and mounted them, trotting towards the larger house where the torches were burning. Half his men, who were around the house, mounted their horses as soon as they saw him.

He soon led them out of the village and towards the place where he had left the other half of his men. There, he assembled all of them and rode back to the camp.

ß----------------------------------------------------------------à

Eight nights before the planned assault on the Silver crew, Gerald was with Arthur, Robard, and Uncle Rudolf in his study. He leaned on the table with both hands and ran his eyes over his aides.

"As expected, the bandits have united," Gerald said. "What was not expected, however, was that we had a Canary in Ard."

Arthur rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowed and fixed on the floor. He seemed to be contemplating something, but obviously still hesitant to speak.

Robard frowned and cleared his throat. "This merchant, my lord. We have to find him; otherwise, the bandits will never run out of gold. There are always brave young merchants trying to pass through the basin with light loads. That means the bandits will always have a source of coin."

"Her," Gerald muttered.

"My lord?" Robard said, puzzled.

"It's not him. It's her," Gerald explained. "Canary is someone you all know very well. It's Grina. I believe you had doubts as soon as you heard Uncle Rudolf's words, Arthur, yes?"

"Indeed, my lord," Arthur nodded. "Only Madame Grina has the power to get those goods through the gates of Ard unnoticed. She has also been trading goods in Ard for a long time. It wouldn't be difficult for her to sell those stolen goods in the dark."

Robard frowned again, this time furious. "My lord. I don't understand why you won't let me act against your cousins. They have crossed the line time and again. They should at least be imprisoned."

Gerald chuckled. "I agree that the risks that come with imprisoning Grina are no longer more severe than the risks that she brings on her own. But why should I take any risks when I can cut her limbs off and corner her slowly? It won't take long to find proof of her treason after that. If I simply imprison her and her brother without proof, then I invite division in my army, garrison, and even among my civil servants. Disposing of the most prominent figure among the branches of my family will only alert the other members of the family, and possibly make them hostile too. They are everywhere. In the army. In the garrison. In my keep. They are in every corner of Ard. I can't remove all of them overnight unless I commit a massacre. And even if I had the gall to do something like that, I wouldn't do it to my own family, Robard."

Robard grew silent and his expression turned apologetic. "Forgive me, my lord. My ignorance has made me rash."

Gerald waved his hand. "It's understandable. Grina's actions are indeed infuriating. But now we know where she gets most of her gold. Trading with bandits doesn't only enrich them, but her too. It's time to sever her relation with them. And now is the perfect time for that." He looked at Uncle Rudolf. "There are a few more things I will need you and Gasper to do, Uncle Rudolf."

Chapter 34

Chapter 34

In the study, Arthur was sitting opposite Gerald, patiently waiting for him to speak.

"Arthur," Gerald said. "Robben Luwin will be removed soon. That means heavy trade from the south will return to the basin. It will also mean that others will begin noticing the recent change in the Viscounty. We will no longer be the bandit-ridden territory that hardly has enough coin to get by."

"True, my lord," Arthur nodded.

Gerald took a breath. "I need to know how our relation is with the Royal family. After trade returns, should I expect someone to come demanding the King's tribute at the end of the year?"

Arthur smiled and shook his head. "I don't think so, my lord. Not unless you alert them somehow."

"Hmm?" Gerald cocked his head. "I understand that the Royal Capital is weaker than before. Even armed conflicts among nobles have been ignored lately. But I doubt that means that the King's tribute will be ignored."

Arthur sighed. "For this matter to become clear, I have to tell you about the end of the war, my lord."

Gerald's narrowed his eyes. The end of the war. He and his sister had been taken away from his father at that time. "Go ahead."

"When the Neejer and Mali Kingdoms interfered with the war, the conflict came to a stalemate," Arthur explained. "The battles mostly happened in the Wild Plains east of the basin."

Gerald nodded. The Tellus basin was the link between the Andross Empire and the Maric Kingdom. But Andross would never send its whole army to invade Maric through the basin. The latter simply needed to block the southern pass of the basin and continue with a war of attrition. The Andross Empire had chosen the wiser choice and circled around the basin from the east, marching through the western edge of the Wild Plains. They had risked being attacked by the wild tribes, but it was unavoidable. Maric's King had also decided to meet them in the Wild Plains instead of waiting at his borders. His decision almost brought the Kingdom to its demise.

"The Andross Empire realized that fighting three Kingdoms at the same time would bring them nothing but eventual ruin," Arhtur continued. "Duke Malfi, however, was greedy. He had used a portion of his army to attack the basin during the war. And as you already know, my lord, Ard suffered a multitude of sieges, and the basin mostly fell out of your father's control. To be honest, when the war reached a stalemate in the plains, the Duke was very close to taking Ard. The castle had weakened and even with Count Westwell's help, Ard's defense was faltering. Continued assaults had depleted your father's and Count Westwell's men."

"Then the Andross Empire accepted the peace treaty," Gerald said.

"Yes," Arthur nodded. "The Duke lost his chance. But when the time came for the treaty to be signed, he insisted on compensation. He claimed that the basin was in his hands, even if Ard wasn't. He had rendered many achievements in the war in the Wild Plains and he had a lot of influence in the Imperial court of Andross. So the Emperor allowed him to impose a condition in the treaty. It was Andross's only condition, based on their sole advantage in the war."

"The compensation was supposed to be a large amount of gold that my father had to pay, yes?" Gerald said.

"Indeed," Arthur said. "Of course, the former Viscount didn't even have a fifth of what was demanded."

"And after a war that continued for four years, no one would be able to afford lending my father the needed coin," Gerald said with a sigh.

"Yes," Arthur said. "The Duke then demanded that two of the former Viscount's children be sent to his territory. One as a ward and the other as a future bride for one of his sons. The Neejer and Mali Kingdoms were pushing for peace. That's all they cared for. As long as the threat of an Andross invasion was averted, they didn't care about anything else. So they pressured the King of Maric into accepting the 'modest' condition that Andross demanded."

"Considering that the King was on the losing side of the war before the two Kingdoms interfered, I don't think he had any choice," Gerald said.

"I doubt the King would have refused the condition either way. In the end, your father had to comply," Arthur said. "He couldn't halt the treaty. Even the King couldn't at that point. And for the condition to be fulfilled . . . " He looked Gerald in the eye.

"My sister and I had to be the sacrifices," Gerald said.

Arthur nodded apologetically. "Your father never recovered. During the first few years after the war he rarely even spoke. His disposition improved years later, but he never truly recovered."

"Tell me, Arthur," Gerald said, remembering something. "Why didn't my father accept the Duke's demands after the war? The trade route never came to be, even though we were the Duke's hostages."

"The first few years after the treaty weren't without tension," Arthur said. "The borders between Maric and Andross were closed for four years after the treaty. Actually, War nearly broke out once again during that period."

"What about after the borders were opened?" Gerald asked.

"After the borders opened and trade returned, the Duke indeed demanded for a monopolized trade route," Arthur explained. "But your father demanded that either you or Lena be sent back in exchange. The Duke refused."

"Yet he let me return now," Gerald mused.

"You were the only remaining heir, my lord. There was no one else to inherit the Viscounty and obey the Duke." Arthur said. "The late Viscount prevented the Duke from getting what he wanted. I believe the Duke hopes that you'll choose to act differently."

"My father denied him the trade route for 10 whole years?" Gerald tilted his head. "The Duke sure is patient."

"It isn't that simple, my lord," Arthur shook his head. "At first, your father indeed denied the Duke his trade route. But later, it became more difficult. The Duke threatened your father on several occasions. It may have seemed like the Duke couldn't harm you or your sister, lest he lose his honor. But many young nobles fall off their horses and get crippled, or worse."

"True," Gerald nodded coldly. "What did my father end up doing though?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Gerald raised a brow.

"Yes. Nothing, my lord," Arthur smiled wryly. "Your father's temper began to get worse again. Then he stopped handling the affairs of the Viscounty properly. Specially the bandits."

"Wait," Gerald perked up with wide eyes. "You mean . . . "

Arthur dropped his eyes, and his expression turned apologetic. "I'm not certain, my lord. Your father never explained his intentions to me. Others might believe that his grip had weakened, but I believe . . . I believe he might have done it on purpose. Unfortunately, even if my belief was true, your father's condition still detoriorated. Last year, I could hardly see any life in his eyes."

Gerald grew silent. Everything fell in place now. He finally understood how the basin became this infested with bandits. They could have been removed when they were still budding, but his father had just let them be. Eventually, they had grown so much that they outnumbered Ard's army. "Why did my father lead the men himself to chase those bandits down?" Gerald gazed at Arthur. He was beginning to have doubts.

"I'm not certain," Arthur said. "He wouldn't listen to any of us. He even commanded Robard to stay in the castle no matter what. It wasn't something he would normally do. He even chased them into the mountains. It's like . . . "

"It's like he wanted to die," Gerald stood up then walked towards the window behind his seat and opened it. A warm breeze blew into the study, and the sunlight was glaring outside.

"Your father has been through a lot, my lord," Arthur's voice came from behind him. "I hope you won't judge his actions too quickly."

Gerald looked towards the distant houses below the hill. Some parts of Ard were visible to him from the study's window. He could see movement in the streets, but he couldn't see his subjects clearly. Even the colors of their clothes were hard to discern. "I will never condemn my father, Arthur. I didn't live his life, and I'm still beginning my own." He walked back to his seat and sat down. "We have deviated from our original discussion. Let's talk about our relation with the Royal Capital again."

Arthur paused, eying Gerald who'd returned to his usual self. Then he sighed and spoke. "The King never bothered with the Viscounty after the war. He never demanded a tribute, and he never summoned your father. Some say that it's out of guilt. But it may also be because the basin has been nothing short of a ruin for years."

"So the Royal Capital only cares if the basin is invaded by forces from Andross, but nothing else," Gerald said. He closed his eyes for a while and hummed. Then he raised a finger. "Our house is here simply as a cushion between them and an Andross invasion. They won't take note of us if there is no danger from the north. We just need to avoid making too much noise. Then we won't have to worry about a tribute, at least for the time being."

"I believe so, my lord," Arthur said. "We only have to worry if the Viscounty gets too wealthy."

Gerald snorted sardonically. There was a long way to tread for him to make the Viscounty wealthy. For now, he only hoped to avert disaster. As long as he could make the basin stable and have a healthy treasury, he would consider his plans a success. "Oh," he said, a thought suddenly coming to him. "By wiping out the bandits, am I not removing the only thing that prevented the Duke from having his desired trade route?"

"In a way, you are, my lord," Arthur nodded helplessly. "But I believe the Viscounty will be having more severe problems if the bandits are not removed. We were already at our breaking point when you arrived."

"I suppose I will receive demands from him soon enough. And as long as he has Lena, I will have to comply," Gerald said. "I won't make it easy for him though." He smirked, watching the puzzled Arthur with amusement.

Chapter 35

Chapter 35

"Your return was quick as usual, Master Rudolf," Gasper said while cleaning his sword. The windows of the cabin were letting the sunlight inside, illuminating their surroundings. "Was the Viscount satisfied with what we've done so far?"

"He was," Master Rudolf said, masked as always. "But there is something else he wants us to do as early as we can."

"Huh?" Gasper stopped what he was doing. "Is it that urgent?"

"Yes," the old steward said. "He is attacking Robben Luwin in a few days. We need to finish this task before the assault."

"What is it that we need to do then?"

"There are a lot of details to tell," Master Rudolf said, producing a letter and waving it for Gasper. "The Viscount has sent you a letter."

Gasper chuckled helplessly. "I hate letters." Then he received it. The last time he'd received a letter from the Viscount, it had informed him that his crew was supposed to get attacked.

This letter was longer than the previous one though, much longer. It seemed that the Viscount had a lot of trust in him. He'd included details that Gasper didn't need to know, but they were there anyway. The letter briefly explained the Viscount's conflict with his cousins and Grina's power in Ard. Canary was supposedly her. Aside from that, the letter also had the details of their task, which Gasper believed was not going to be easy.

After reading the letter, Gasper summoned Erick. The latter arrived shortly.

"Chief," Erick said after entering the cabin. "You sent for me." Then he nodded to Master Rudolf respectfully.

"Yes," Gasper said. "I need to send a message to The Nest."

"Very well, chief," Erick said. "I will prepare a rider."

"No," Gasper raised his hand, stopping him. "You'll have to go yourself for this one. It's important."

"What is it, chief?" Erick asked, seemingly intrigued.

Gasper straightened his back and looked Erick in the eye. "You'll only tell this to Viper himself, and no one else."

"Yes, chief," Erick nodded with a serious expression

"You will tell him that I already know who the Viscount is attacking next," Gasper explained. "If he wants to know more, he will have to assemble the other chiefs again. I will meet them and explain."

"I will deliver your message to Viper himself, chief," Erick said solemnly. "Please rest assured."

Gasper nodded. "You can take a few riders with you. Return with his response without delay. Go."

"Yes, chief," Erick said, then he turned and left the cabin hurriedly.

Gasper turned to Master Rudolf. "Will this truly work? Mentioning a merchant of our own who's willing to provide the same services as Canary all of a sudden might garner some suspicion from the other chiefs."

"It might," Master Rudolf nodded. "You will just have to do the best you can. Hopefully, it won't ruin the Viscount's future plans for us. But this is also important, after all. We can't let the relationship between Grina and the bandits continue."

"But Viper isn't simple," Gasper said. "I fear he might notice something."

Master Rudolf chuckled in response. "You overestimate him, Gasper. Knowing when to betray doesn't make you clever. It just makes you a traitor. And that is all he is."

"Perhaps," Gasper shrugged.

"You should be less concerned about greedy brigands, and more concerned about the deserters," Master Rudolf continued. "That man, Lucas. He won't be easy to fool. Bandits aren't used to being tricked or fooled by nobles. Most of the time, they are just stomped by the raw power of a noble's army. So they might not expect you to be serving the Viscount and fooling them. That former knight, on the other hand, may see through your disguise if you aren't careful. He has served a noble before, and trickery among nobles isn't uncommon. He should have seen his share of it."

Gasper nodded. "I will choose my words carefully in front of him." He'd found the old steward's advice quite valuable during the time they had spent together. Master Rudolf was too sharp for a simple steward. And that wasn't all. Gasper hadn't forgotten that night the old steward had snuck into Black Dog's camp. Gasper had noticed the mysterious nature of Master Rudolf since then. However, he had held back any questions he had.

Later that day, Erick returned. He informed Gasper that Viper was quite shocked by the news, and that The Nest's chief would do all he could to arrange for another assembly in three days.

. . .

. .

.

Three days later, after dusk, Gasper rode out of the camp with his men and Master Rudolf. The meeting place would be the same as last time. He would meet the other chiefs and deliver them a lucrative offer. Hopefully, they'd show joy instead of doubt in response.

Gasper and his men galloped towards the north without slowing down in the middle this time. They reached the edge of the village before midnight. The large house from last time was still surrounded by men and torches. The men, however, were more numerous this time. It looked like all the other chiefs had arrived before him, unlike last time. The news was important enough for them to avoid dawdling. Though Gasper didn't doubt that Viper had to have expended some effort to bring Edith and her brother to the table, evident by the three days the latter had needed to arrange for the assembly.

Soon, a rider approached Gasper and greeted him, then led him and Master Rudolf towards the smaller house. Gasper commanded his men to stay near the large house, all of them this time.

When they reached the house of the assembly, the guide knocked on the door, and, as expected, Marco emerged.

"Chief Gasper," Marco greeted him hurriedly. Then he continued speaking before Gasper could return the greeting, "They're waiting inside. Please follow me." He headed into the house again.

Gasper and Master Rudolf followed him inside. They reached the assembly room, and Marco pushed its door open. As Gasper entered the room, he caught a glimpse of all those present. Harland and Edith were sitting next to each other, their two lieutenants standing behind them. Lucas was present without a lieutenant, just like last time. And Viper was in his seat, gazing at Gasper impatiently.

"Gasper," Viper stood up. "You've arrived. Take a seat." He pointed to the chair beside him.

Gasper nodded to him then to Lucas and Harland. They both nodded back. Then he nodded to Edith, who snorted in response. He didn't take it to heart though. He had to be everyone's friend today.

He sat down and took a breath. The chiefs around the table were quiet, but he knew that they were a moment away from exploding with questions. So he spoke first. "As you all know, it was me who asked Viper to arrange for this assembly. And it's about the Viscount and the Red Rain band."

"Is it true that you know who the Viscount's going to attack?" Harland said, leaning on the table.

"Indeed," Gasper said calmly. Then he stayed silent. He ran his eyes over the other chiefs. Every one of them was waiting for him to speak in noticeable anxiety. Yet he did not speak.

"Tell us then!" Edith was the first to lose her patience, glaring at him intently.

"I cannot," he said the word that would bring him a lot of unkind looks.

"Why the hell not?" Edith pounded on the table. "You think we're going to pay you for it?"

"Calm down, Edith," Viper said. Then he turned to Gasper. "Are you certain of this news you're bringing, Gasper?"

"Very," Gasper nodded.

"Then why can't you tell us?" Viper asked.

"It's not my choice," Gasper sighed and shook his head, as if he was as upset as they were. "The one who brought me this news decides who I can tell it to. I can't afford to betray his trust. I stand to lose more than gain from it."

"Then why in the hells are we here?" Edith growled again.

"Because the owner of this news has an offer for all of you," Gasper said.

"What offer?" Viper pricked his ears.

"One that is similar to the offer you gave me last time," Gasper looked at him. "He is a merchant. A powerful one. He offers to buy all your goods and deliver Ard's news to you. But you have to cut all ties with Canary."

Viper chuckled and leaned back in his seat. "I find it difficult to believe that there is a merchant more powerful than Canary in Ard. Why should we believe that his news will be accurate?"

"Because the attack will happen in the next ten days," Gasper said, wearing an indifferent expression.

Surprise appeared on Viper's face and he gulped. "Does this merchant know the time of the attack?"

Gasper shook his head. "He only told me that it is in the next ten days. You have to accept his offer if you want to know everything else he's told me. The news will be confirmed when the attack happens, so you will have your proof soon. If what I tell you turns out to be false, you can always return to trading with Canary. But I assure you that it is true. He has never delivered me false news before."

Everyone grew silent. Gasper observed the other chiefs patiently. They all seemed to be deep in thought, except Lucas.

The former knight gazed at him for a moment then spoke. "How did you get to know this merchant?"

Gasper was taken aback by the question, but he kept his composure. "I used to live in Ard," he said. "Then I joined one of the crews in the east. After I assembled a crew of my own, I sought an old acquaintance of mine who led me to this merchant." He told them a half-lie. He thought that sooner or later they would know that he was part of Black Dog's crew, so hiding it was pointless.

Lucas kept his gaze fixed on Gasper but didn't speak again.

Viper cleared his throat and spoke. "Black Dog's crew, yes?"

"Indeed," Gasper nodded.

"Some of his men joined my crew after escaping from that massacre," Viper said. "They told me that you used to be part of his crew. I thought the names were just similar, but one of them ascertained it after he saw you the last time you were here."

"I took part in the assault on Big Mountian's camp," Gasper said solemnly. He wasn't surprised that some of Black Dog's men had escape. Aside from the ones that joined Viper, there were others that ran into Master Rudolf's net. They were all killed though. "I barely made it out alive from the Viscount's encirclement."

"You did well for yourself though," Viper smiled. "Regardless, we have more important matters to discuss. I believe that we should give this merchant a chance. I intend to accept his offer, for now."

"I suppose I will too," Harland said.

Gasper looked at Edith, who reluctantly said, "I will accept his offer, but if his news isn't accurate, it will be on you."

Gasper just shrugged in response. Then he turned to Lucas. The former knight met his eye. They stared at each other for a moment then Lucas closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I will accept it too," he said.

"Very well," Gasper said, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. "I suppose I should tell you now that the Viscount and the Red Rain band are planning to attack Robben Luwin."

There was a brief silence.

Then Viper smirked. "If that's true, then . . . "

"This is good news," Harland laughed. "Luwin is one of our troubles. If the Viscount wants to remove him, we've got nothing to lose."

Edith nodded.

"Fools." Everyone turned to the source of that word. Lucas.

"What do you mean by that, Dirt Knight?" Edith glared at him.

He ignored her and continued. "If the Viscount succeeds in removing Luwin, do you think removing us will be a problem? We will be next."

Viper's smirk faded and he anxiously stared at Lucas. "But he won't have the strength to move against us after fighting a bitter battle against Luwin. His men will suffer a lot during it."

"I doubt it," Lucas shook his head. "He will probably throw those mercenaries in front, like all nobles would. He will have his losses, but they won't be as great as you may think."

"We have many more men than Luwin does," Viper said. "Luwin only has 2000, I believe. Compared to us, that's nothing. We have perhaps 6000 combined. If we unite together, the Viscount won't be able to defeat us."

"We will also have all the news we might need from Ard," Gasper added, trying to reassure them. The discussion was becoming more complicated. He didn't want to discuss matters other than trade today. The Viscount had mentioned in the letter that he had plans for these chiefs and their crews. Gasper didn't know any more details, but the Viscount had mentioned that he didn't want the other crews getting restless and acting before his assault on Luwin.

"Yes," Viper nodded. "We should be able to fend him off if we're cautious." He turned to Edith. "Edith, you need to forgo your conflict with Lucas. If we don't all unite now, we will certainly perish later."

"Let's see if the news is true first," Edith said. "If the Viscount does attack Luwin in the next few days, then we may speak about a true alliance."

Viper looked upset. And Gasper knew why. Edith and her brother were the safest among them. Their camps were in a forest. That's why they didn't care much for an alliance for the time being. If the news turned out to be inaccurate and the Viscount attacked someone else, it was unlikely to be Edith or her brother.

"Fine," Viper said through his teeth. "We will wait. Our pact with Gasper still stands though, right?" He turned to Gasper.

"Of course," Gasper said, unconcerned.

Viper nodded. "Well then, I suppose there is nothing else for us to discuss." He paused. "Gasper, when will the merchant send his people to our camps?"

"In a few days he will send you a rider to inform you," Gasper said.

"Alright," Viper said. "I suppose this assembly can now end."

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

South of Ard, Gerald pulled the reins to his horse and turned it around. He eyed the gate of the castle. Like last time, men were pouring out and falling into ranks. The cavalry was already out of the castle and had lined up into a wide formation. The infantry slowly emerged out of the gates and fell into square formations near the walls.

The sun hadn't appeared yet, but its weak rays were already blanketing the sky. Gerald was surrounded by the mounted Warriors of his elite corps. The recruitment had raised their numbers to 56 Warriors. He hoped that the results of the coming battle would encourage more young Warriors to join the corps. He was certain that Ard had more. If two or three men out of every hundred succeeded in becoming Warriors, then Ard still had dozens at least. There was a reason only a few of them joined armies though.

An ordinary man wouldn't hesitate to join the army because of its benefits, but Warriors were more aware of their worth. Any man with enough coin could get their hands on a Warrior manual, but only a few could succeed in becoming Earth Warriors. Therefore the Warriors were usually very talented combatants, even if not experienced ones. Being given higher benefits than ordinary soldiers was the least of their expectations. Their awareness of their worth often drove them into joining mercenary bands instead of armies. As mercenaries, they would reap most of the benefits of their hard work themselves, earning enough gold to live a relaxed life through selling their sword for just a few years.

Gerald saw that the infantry was almost through the gates. They were the last to come out of Ard. The siege equipment and bowmen were already behind him. And The crossbowmen were lined up behind the cavalry. The latter two units would be the least useful during the battle. Gerald wouldn't command his cavalrymen to dismount and fight on foot. A cavalryman needed a lot of training and time to become a proper mounted soldier. Although Gerald wasn't inclined to sacrifice any of his men, he knew that many would still fall during the battle. Using his cavalrymen as footmen during the assault would be foolish, as replacing them would take a lot of effort and patience.

The crossbowmen, on the other hand, wouldn't fare very well against the walls of a fortress. They would do well if they were the defenders. But as attackers, they would just be living targets for Luwin's archers who would be on the walls. Their best advantage, penetrative power, would be nonexistent in a siege assault. They could still rain a volley on enemies, but they would be nowhere near as competent as longbow men at volleys.

Gerald shot a glance towards his left. In the distance, Edgar was among his band of sellswords. Almost half of them were mounted, while the other half was on foot. Most of them, however, were well armed. Gerald even spotted many with heavy iron armor. Unlike a lord, Edgar didn't have to bear the cost of arming his men. They had to buy most of their equipment with their own coin.

Most of the mercenaries had large, heavy shields on their backs. Gerald knew that they would need them soon.

He heard a trotting sound and spotted Robard approaching. The head knight was in his steel armor as usual, with the only difference being that he wore his visor now. Robard brought his horse to a halt in front of Gerald and saluted. "The men are ready to march, my lord."

"Very well," Gerald smiled. "Let's move."

"Yes," Robard said and turned around, signaling the command with his hand.

Gerald raised his hand and waved for Edgar who waved back and prepared his men for the short march.

Soon, Gerald's army began marching towards the south in loose formation. The cavalry moved ahead and split up into several groups. They rode ahead of the march to chase down any scouts that could appear and hopefully capture some of them.

They wouldn't meet any scouts until they marched out of Ard's range of influence though.

Less than half of the distance had been covered when Gerald spotted a village. He could see the signs of rebuilding among its buildings. Some boasted fresher timber than others, creating a weird contrast between the shades of color of the old and new houses.

Gerald frowned. That was the village that had been raided by his father's killers. It reminded him of some bothersome thoughts that had plagued him for the past few days. The most odd of which was why his father had taken Gerald's elder brother with him. Had his brother insisted on accompanying his father? Or hadn't his father actually been aware of the risks when he'd followed those 'bandits'?

Gerald shook his head. It wasn't the time to think of that. He would find the ones who'd murdered his father and brother someday, and he would show them no mercy. But there were other matters at hand now.

The march continued, and soon they began coming across Luwin's scouts regularly. The cavalry would quickly chase them away though. Considering that his cavalry would do little during the assault, he didn't stop them from tiring themselves out by chasing the scouts. At least it would prevent Luwin from knowing too much about his forces. Though he doubted that Luwin was ignorant of Ard's strength.

The Canary didn't trade with Luwin like the other bandits, but the former mercenary was likely aware of the Viscounty's military numbers and strength from other sources. However, this assault was too abrupt. Luwin had likely been thinking that Gerald would wipe out the smaller crews before trying to attack him. He was probably surprised by the news he was hearing right now though.

Gerald was at the head of the army. Only the cavalry had gone farther ahead to chase down the scouts. Gerald and his men were close to their destination. He looked back towards the tail of his army and gazed at what was slowing their march down. There were wagons carrying the mantlets and siege ladders, but they weren't what really slowed the army down. Behind those wagons, Gerald spotted the wheeled battering rams. There were three of them and their wheels were small and rigid, making them the slowest in the march. Currently, they were being pulled by horses. During the assault, they would be pushed by the men that would be hiding under their wooden sheds.

By noon they reached the fortress. Gerald spotted it from afar. Its mud walls were yellow with a tint of red. They looked coarse but enough to stop any unprepared attackers. Gerald believed Luwin must have had a lot of time on his hands to have been able to build something like that. The fortress wasn't large though. It covered twice the area of a smaller crew's camp, which meant that it was even more cramped inside than a bandits' camp.

As his army got closer to the fortress, Gerald found that Robard's words were true. The walls were nearly three times a man's height. They weren't too high, but they weren't low either. There was only one gate to the fortress, and it was in the direction Gerald's army had come from.

Gerald saw Edgar riding towards him with his lieutenant, Isaac. The two quickly reached Gerald's side.

"They seem ready," Edgar said, pointing at the fortress's walls.

Gerald saw archers and footmen on the walls. Some of those on the walls were as well armed as Edgar's men while others seemed only a bit better than an ordinary bandit. Gerald assumed that the well armed ones were members of Luwin's original mercenary band, while the others were the newly recruited bandits.

There was a brief silence as Gerald's men came to a halt about 700 yards away from Luwin's walls. Before the silence could be broken by any commands, the fortress's gate began to open. Gerald spotted a rider coming out and riding towards them.

The rider galloped towards Ard's army on his own. Gerald looked to his side and saw Robard riding towards him. He would have to meet their rider and see what he had to say. Though Gerald wasn't inclined to negotiate with the bandits nor did they have any right to negotiate in the first place.

He led Robard, Edgar, and Isaac towards the rider. The two sides galloped towards each other. Gerald soon met the rider out of the enemy archers' range. "What did the bandit send you to say?" Gerald said, wasting no time.

The rider was still bringing his horse to a stop and he scowled at Gerald's question. Then he quickly regained his composure. He snorted and said, "Captain Robben Luwin would like to deliver you a friendly warning, your lordship."

"A warning, huh?" Gerald said with a sardonic smile. He glanced at Edgar and Robard who, like him, wore mocking smiles. "Speak then."

The rider's face changed into a frown as he noticed the mocking gazes he was receiving. He took a breath and spoke. "Your lordship. Retreat or bleed."

Gerald didn't respond right away. There was a moment of odd silence, then he broke into loud laughter. "That's it?" he said, still laughing. "A threat?" Then he stopped laughing and his face quickly lost all expression. "I have one for you as well. Surrender or die."

The rider smirked and showed a mocking smile like the one he'd received before. "We have a well and enough food to survive for months. We will never surrender."

"Who said I'm planning to wait for months or even days?" Gerald said. "You'll either surrender today or die today."

The rider glared at him for a moment then pulled his reins and began turning his horse around. He quickly shot a glance at Edgar while turning around. "Captain of the Red Rain band," he said with a smirk "Captain Luwin tells you that this will be the last of your days." Then he urged his horse on and rode away.

Edgar chuckled in response then muttered, "he threatens me when he's the one trapped behind his own walls."

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Gerald eyed Edgar and the latter didn't seem to have lost any of his fervor.

Edgar hadn't been wearing a visible smile along the march, but Gerald had seen happiness apparent on the sellsword's face. He wondered what made him so eager for battle. He was likely to lose many men from his band. When Gerald had pondered over their agreement for a while, he'd found it odd. The gains Edgar would earn from the assault were many, but he would also lose a lot being the vanguard of the attack. It almost seemed like he was sacrificing his men for these gains, which wasn't common among his kind. The mercenaries trusted their captain because he wouldn't get them killed, after all.

Even when mercenary bands were thrown to the frontlines of battles by nobles, the mercenaries would never fight on their own. They would deviously avoid bloodshed until the noble pushed his men forward. Gerald would have expected Edgar to do everything to avoid being the vanguard of a siege assault on his own.

Gerald rid himself of the unneeded thoughts and rode back after meeting Luwin's rider, quickly returning to the ranks of his men.

He signaled for Robard. "Command the cavalry to surround the fortress on a wider range and look out for enemies hidden outside. We don't want to be attacked from behind in the middle of the assault. I also don't want anyone escaping from that fortress." The lands around the fortress were mostly flat save a few small hills around. It was hard for an enemy force to hide out there and ambush them, unless they were mounted and hiding very far away. Gerald chose to be cautious though.

"Yes, my lord," Robard saluted and rode away.

Edgar had already ridden away and begun arranging the ranks of his men for the assault.

Gerald eyed the walls. They weren't very thick. About three men could stand behind each other on top of the wall without falling off, assuming that they would have some distance between each other. There were some uneven parapets for the archers. Gerald spotted some of those archers carrying longbows, but most just carried regular bows.

Soon, Edgar's men were holding their shields and ready to move. Gerald signaled for his longbow archers to get ready.

The mantlets were brought down from the carriages. They were like small walls made of wood. And they had two small wheels like the ones the battering rams stood on. The mantlets also had long lever-like handles extending from the back. They could be used to push the mantlets forward while hiding behind their cover. The handle could be left on the ground and it would support the mantlet and keep it standing. There were also small openings in the mantlets for archers to use while standing behind them.

Ladders were brought down from the carriages as well. And Gerald's men delivered them to Edgar and his band.

The mercenaries were split into two square formations on foot. Each formation took four ladders. They placed the ladders between themselves so that the each ladder would have one end pointing to the front of the formation and the other end pointing to the back. The first eight ranks of each formation had some men supporting a ladder with one hand and holding their shield with the other.

Soon, their front ranks raised their rectangular shields in front of them. Some of the shields were wooden and plated with iron, while others were made of thick wood wrapped in leather. But all the shields were of similar shape. They were rectangular, not large enough to be tower shields but large enough to cover most of a man's body.

The rest of the ranks soon raised their shields above their heads, covering each other. Gerald could hardly see the ladders or the men anymore from his horse. He could only see the backs of the men in the last few ranks.

The two square formations began marching slowly towards the fortress. Edgar was among his men in one of the two formations. Gerald had last spotted him among the men of the square formation on the left. The mercenary captain had been wearing a helm and an iron breastplate. He'd disappeared from Gerald's vision after the shields had been raised.

Gerald saw Ard's cavalry spreading to the sides and moving to loosely surround the fortress from the distance. It seemed that Robard had delivered his commands already.

He eyed his army. In front of him, his 500 archers were split into five formations standing side by side. Each formation had five ranks of men carrying longbows.

Behind him, the infantry was split into seven square formations, each having 500 infantrymen. There were 200 infantrymen in reserve, standing ahead of the other square formations. Farther behind stood 300 crossbowmen in loose ranks.

Gerald looked ahead again. Edgar's two formations had begun stepping into the enemy archers' range.

He saw subtle movement on the walls, and then a volley was loose. The volley wasn't very dense, as only the archers with longbows loosed their arrows. A few arrows soon descended upon the two formations, but they were all blocked or deflected by the shields. The two formations keep pushing forward, unperturbed.

Another volley was loosed on the two formations by the longbow archers on the walls again, but it achieved nothing more than the first. The two squares of mercenaries continued on their slow march and soon arrived within the regular bowmen's range.

That was when a dense volley was finally loosed from the walls. Gerald heard a few yells of pain from the two formations. He guessed that a few arrows had passed through the gaps between their shields. However, the mercenaries didn't leave any fallen in their tracks.

"Just some wounds, I suppose," Gerald muttered. The mercenaries were getting closer to the walls, step by step. Gerald's head knight soon returned to his side. "They will have to break formation soon. Let the archers advance," Gerald said.

"Yes, my lord," Robard said. Then he yelled, "archers!" and waved his hand forward.

"For—ward!" the commander of the archers roared. The five formations moved in a rapid advance. They kept their formation, but advanced much faster than the two mercenary formations had.

Gerald's archers kept moving forward until they were well within the range of the enemies' longbows. The enemy archers noticed and some arrows began descending upon his archers. A few of them fell, wounded. Fewer died. There were only so many longbows on the walls. Only half of them were loosing their arrows towards his archers now.

The five longbow archer formations soon came to a stop and fluidly nocked, pulled, then loosed. Their arrows drew a curve in the sky then landed on the walls. A great many of them just hit the walls and fell off, while others fell inside the fortress. Some of the arrows hit the archers on the walls, attracting even more attention towards the five formations.

Soon, all the longbows on the walls were loosing volleys on Gerald's archers. The regular bowmen were still focused on Edgar and his band who were only a few dozen yards away from the walls.

The fallen archers on top of the walls were quickly replaced by others. That was one of the reasons Gerald had chosen to attack them from only one side. He didn't want to let his enemies use the advantage of the walls on four fronts. Luwin's 2500 men could easily man four thin walls.

Attacking the four walls would have eased the climb of Gerald's men, since they would receive less pressure. But his men weren't the ones attacking first, so he didn't mind letting Edgar pay the expense of the single-wall assault.

Gerald's archers quickly adapted, and their longbows were raining arrows on the fortress's walls continuously. Most of the time the archers on top of those walls were too busy hiding to loose their arrows on Edgar's formations.

The 200-man reserve of the infantry was responsible for carrying back any wounded from the archer formations. The infantrymen covered their heads with their heater shields and ran into the archers' formations, quickly carrying back any fallen ones who might or might not be alive.

Gerald saw that the two mercenary formations were drawing closer to the walls. They split up and each one headed to either side of the fortress's gate. As soon as they arrived at the walls, each formation broke up. The men of each formation were either fixing the ladders on the walls, or sticking to the walls with shields covering their heads. Very few arrows were descending on them as Gerald's men were keeping the archers at bay, but many rocks were being thrown from above.

"Edgar's men will soon climb up," Gerald said. "Let the rams begin moving."

Robard nodded and waved his hand towards the back. "The rams!"

"The rams!" the voice echoed among the captains of Ard's army. Then Gerald saw the three battering rams being pulled to the front by horses. They stopped when they were ahead of Gerald and his head knight.

Each battering ram was a moving shed carrying a large log with a metal head at the front. Several infantrymen ran to one of the battering rams and manned it. They took cover under the shed and began pushing forward. Only one ram was needed for the gate. The other two were possible replacements. Those two were also manned, but they advanced slower than the first one.

At the same time, a few dozen crossbowmen ran to the front and manned several mantlets. Each mantlet had eight crossbowmen holding its back handle and pushing it forward. The wheels moved and ten mantlets began moving forward, faster than the rams.

Gerald gazed at the walls again. The ladders were firmly set, and some of the mercenaries were already climbing up with their shields above their heads. The first mercenary to reach the top of the wall was hammered down by one of the defenders. He fell all the way to the ground and Gerald didn't see the slightest movement from him after that.

The mercenaries didn't stop though. More and more of them were climbing the ladders. He saw some of the ones on the ground carrying crossbows and aiming their bolts towards the enemies on the walls.

Edgar's band slowly but truly began gaining some footing on the wall. Gerald saw one of the band's mercenaries beaten off a ladder, only for the one behind him to jump at the opportunity and bury his axe in the defender's head. The mercenary then slashed at another defender who evaded by stepping back. The attacker quickly took the chance and stepped onto the wall, followed by another of his band. Soon, that part of the wall had a few mercenaries holding their own and trying to push forward against the defenders.

Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Edgar's men struggled to survive while climbing those ladders. But the struggle wasn't without its benefits. It didn't take long for Gerald to see Edgar's band gaining two more footholds. The band members who were making it onto the wall at those footholds were hardly gaining any advantage in combat, but they were holding their ground.

Luwin's men were flocking to them endlessly, but it seemed that Edgar had sent a few Warriors up to keep his men from faltering.

Still, Gerald saw one of the three gained footholds faltering then completely collapsing. Edgar's men at that spot were either pushed off the wall or slaughtered on it. Luwin had his Warriors too, after all. In a constricted area like the top of the wall, a Warrior's role became much more crucial. When only three to six combatants on each side could face each other at a time, the side that had a Warrior would be at a clear advantage. So it was natural that Luwin wouldn't hold back either. He'd sent his Warriors to the walls to get back the lost ground.

Almost as if in response, Edgar's band gained another foothold above one of the other ladders.

Gerald sighed. His longbow archers had stopped loosing their arrows. Edgar's men would be hit if they continued raining arrows on the wall. Gerald watched the ten mantlets pushed by the crossbowmen passing between the archer formations and moving forward. They were shortly followed by the battering rams.

He turned to Robard and nodded. "It's time."

Robard returned the nod and turned his horse around. He waved his hand. "Infantry! Forward."

The seven square formations of infantrymen responded with an echo of Robard's command then began marching forward with a steady pace.

Robard turned towards the front again and waved a command towards the commander of the archers. As if the later had been waiting for the wave, he instantly shouted a series of commands and the archer formations began spreading out and falling back. Between each two formations of archers, there was enough space for an infantry square to pass.

While the archers retreated, the infantry advanced and their square formations passed between the archer formations.

Gerald moved his eyes far ahead of the infantry and watched the ten mantlets come to a stop Less than 100 yards from the gate. There was no gatehouse to the rugged fortress. The parapets above the gate were even with the rest of the wall, and there were men up there still loosing arrows at Edgar's men. Most importantly, those men wouldn't let the battering ram attack the gate without giving it any grief.

As the ten mantlets stopped, the crossbowmen that were pushing them began using the openings in each mantlet to loose bolts on the enemies above the gate. Each mantlet had four openings. From the eight crossbowmen behind it, four would loose bolts while the other four would be pulling the strings of their crossbows and nocking new bolts.

The enemies on top of the gate, who'd been ignoring the mantlets before, were now under a continuous hail of bolts. The archers attempted to fight back by loosing their arrows towards the mantlets, but it hardly did anything aside from getting the archers themselves killed. Still, there ranks never emptied. There were always more defenders to replace the fallen ones. The crossbowmen behind the mantlets were just keeping the defenders unpleasantly busy.

Soon, the first battering ram passed between the mantlets and began approaching the gate.

Gerald smile and looked at Robard, only to find the knight's mouth twitching as if he wanted to say something.

"You still think we should breach the walls, don't you?" Gerald sighed.

"My lord, you're letting Edgar have his way a bit too much," Robard said grudgingly. Edgar had asked Gerald to avoid knocking down parts of the wall, since the fortress would eventually belong to the mercenary captain. Gerald hadn't refused his request.

Gerald chuckled. "If we knock down several parts of the wall, who would be attacking those parts?"

"Our men," Robard replied.

"And why should we fight on several fronts while we have a very fine shield right there," Gerald said, pointing at Edgar's men. "It's enough to breach that gate and let our men push the fight into the fortress. Even if we can breach those walls, Luwin will always have enough men to fill the openings. We don't have enough wheeled rams to open many breaches in the walls. Two or three breaches will be of no use. Our advantage in numbers can't be used until we're inside their fortress. And even then, it won't be that great of an advantage. We just need to push behind Edgar with some of our men and breach the gate with the rest of them."

Robard just stayed silent in response. Gerald knew his head knight still didn't agree with him.

He returned his attention to the walls. Edgar's men had now gained a total of four footholds up there, and they were hardly holding on. Gerald spotted many bodies strewn below the walls, most of them belonging to the Red Rain band. Edgar's men had paid dearly for gaining and holding on to those footholds.

Gerald saw that the battering ram had reached the gate. The men hiding under its shed stopped pushing it forward and began swinging the large log hung inside and ramming the gate. He could hear the faint sound of the ram striking the gate from where he was. The repeated collisions sounded like a giant approaching from afar.

The gate was aligned with the wall. The men above it were always under the threat of the crossbows, but some of them still threw rocks onto the battering ram to no avail. Gerald saw them stop for a few moments and then he spotted some bags being thrown down onto the shed of the ram. They also dropped a wooden barrel from above. The barrel landed on top of the battering ram's shed and broke open, spilling its contents on top of it. Then they threw down two more barrels until the whole battering ram was soaked.

"They don't have oil for defending against a siege," Gerald said, frowning. "But they do have some for their torches." He hadn't expected them to use the oil and pitch that are usually used for torches to soak the ram. The revelation didn't unsettle him though, because there were others to replace the battering ram at the gate.

The men under the shed of the battering ram had noticed the danger as soon as the oil had landed on top of the shed and begun dripping down on them. They quickly abandoned the cover of the shed and ran back towards the mantlets. At the same time, a torch descended from above and set the battering ram on fire. As the men who'd manned it before ran back towards the mantlets, a few of them were unfortunate enough to be struck by arrows. But most of them reached the mantlets and took cover behind them.

The problem that faced Gerald's men now was how to put down the fire and move the burned battering ram away.

Gerald shook his head. "I didn't think I'd have to join the battle myself this early." He eyed the mounted elite corps behind him. They were very few compared to the rest of the army. His eyes had even gotten accustomed to ignoring their presence since the beginning of the battle. He signaled for them and dismounted his horse.

The Warriors of the corps quickly dismounted as well.

Robard who was beside Gerald looked bewildered as he dismounted his horse. "My lord, are you planning to join the battle now? It's too dangerous."

"I need to be able to deliver my commands," Gerald said. "I will stop behind the mantlets." He grabbed the shield hung on the side of his horse. It was a large, round shield made of steel. Gerald was donning his black leather armor. He hadn't expected that he'd need to join the battle before the gate was breached, so he had chosen not to wear steel armor.

At least I brought a good shield.

He held his shield in his hand and nodded to Robard. The latter also took a shield from his horse and stood beside Gerald.

"Have someone bring us some ropes," Gerald told Robard.

Robard nodded and shouted his commands towards the 200-man reserve of the infantry. It didn't take long for the ropes to be delivered to Gerald's Warriors.

The Warriors of the elite corps were standing behind Gerald with their heater shields in hand, and some of them were carrying the ropes. They stood in two loose ranks. Gerald ran his eyes over them before he began trotting forward.

Chapter 39

Chapter 39

As Gerald advanced with his elite corps, he saw that the seven infantry formations had drawn close to the mantlets. The first two square formations split up, each heading to aid Edgar's men at the walls either side of the gate. The remaining five formations continued their slow but steady advance towards the gate.

There were hardly any archers on the walls still loosing arrows. Gerald's infantry hardly received any arrows on their advance, but their heater shields were covering their heads anyway.

The crossbowmen behind the mantlets were still focusing their bolts on the enemies above the gate. The defenders there had suffered a lot at the hands of Gerald's crossbowmen, specially when they'd shown themselves to torch the battering ram. Almost all of the defenders who'd taken part in burning the ram had been killed by crossbow bolts.

Gerald and his men soon entered the range of enemy archers, but no one bothered with their approach. He and Robard raised their shields above their heads but received no arrows. This encouraged Gerald to hasten their advance. He yelled at his men. "Forward!" Then increased his pace and began running towards the mantlets. The Warriors of the corps followed him with similar pace.

He saw the five infantry formations coming to a halt near the mantlets. The other two formations were close to Edgar's men and soon to join the climb.

It didn't take long for Gerald to reach the mantlets with his quick pace, followed closely by the elite corps. The commanders of the infantry saluted him as he headed for the cover of one of the mantlets. A few arrows would arrive from time to time this close to the gate.

After he took cover behind the mantlet, Gerald turned to Robard who hadn't left his side. "Have one of the infantry formations advance towards the battering ram and put down the fire. Then they will have to use the ropes to pull the ram away from the gate." He eyed the burning ram. The fire devouring it had weakened considerably, but it hadn't stopped.

"Yes, my lord," Robard nodded. He left Gerald's side and headed towards one of the infantry squares.

Gerald saw his head knight speaking to an infantry commander under the cover of the infantrymen's shields. Robard seemed to be explaining something, while the commander looked hesitant but ended up nodding anyway.

After a loud yell, Gerald saw the infantry formation moving forward towards the gate. He turned around. The mantlet he was staying behind had some crossbowmen loosing bolts at the defenders. He crouched and began observing Edgar's men.

The mercenaries had gained footholds at every ladder save for one. The closest foothold to the gate had many members of Edgar's band and they were pushing towards the gate. Gerald's two infantry formations had joined the fray. He saw many of his men climbing the ladders, and some were even fighting on the walls already.

Soon, the infantry formation that was advancing towards the gate finally reached it. Some of its men began throwing dirt and mud at the burning ram, while the rest covered them with their shields. There were hardly any defenders attacking them though. The thrown rocks couldn't reach them, and none of the archers above the gate would make themselves a target for bolts just to loose an arrow on the infantry.

While some of Edgar's men on the wall drew closer to the defenders above the gate, the ram's fire was dying down. The infantrymen quickly tied the ropes to the battering ram and began pulling it away from the gate.

At the same time, one of the two rams behind the mantlets began moving towards the gate.

Slowly, the burnt battering ram was removed while a new one replaced it. Gerald observed the large wooden gate. It was aligned with the wall and its surface was charred from the ram's fire. The new battering ram was soon pushed in front of it, and the men began swinging its heavy log.

The sound of a giant's steps returned as the ram struck the gate repeatedly. This time the sound was much closer to Gerald. He glanced above the gate and found the defenders too busy to attack the ram as they tried to resist the approach of Edgar's men.

After some strikes from the ram, Gerald heard the sound of wood splintering. Another strike from the ram and he heard the groans of the wooden gate.

The infantry formation that'd pulled the burnt ram away returned to the gate and surrounded the new ram, awaiting the breach of the gate.

Gerald raised his hand and signaled for the four infantry formations behind the mantlets to advance as well, and they complied. He suddenly heard crowded yells emerging, different from the ones coming from the walls in both distance and intensity. He quickly turned towards the gate.

The defenders had lost hope in keeping the gate shut. They had opened it wide and swarmed the battering ram. Gerald's infantrymen at the gate collided with the defenders around the ram and began the ground battle.

Gerald's infantry formations that were advancing forward hurried their pace and charged towards the open gate. The battering ram that was at the gate began retreating slowly and widening the front of combat.

Gerald saw his men fighting a mix of well-armed former mercenaries and poorly armed bandits. He turned to Robard. "They're hardly holding against Edgar's men on the walls. If we succeed in pushing the ground battle into the fortress, they should surrender."

"I'm afraid that is not likely to happen, my lord," Robard shook his head. "Luwin was a mercenary. He knows his fate if he surrenders. Enemy mercenary leaders are always killed by nobles after battle and the mercenaries are usually forcefully recruited into the victorious lord's army. This time he's worse than just an enemy mercenary. He's a bandit. He won't rest his fate upon your unlikely mercy. He won't have his men drop their arms. His men might want to surrender, but he won't let them."

Gerald frowned. "So we either have to kill him or slaughter most of the defenders."

"Indeed," Robard nodded.

Gerald gazed at the gate again. The rest of the infantry had reached the gate and were crowding it to clash with the enemy. But the path that the gate provided was too narrow for Gerald's 2500 men.

He gritted his teeth. "It's like the neck of a bottle. The push will take too long this way." He assumed that only 100 men were actually in combat at the gate, while the rest were only waiting to replace the fallen. His numbers would eventually triumph, but it would take too long and it would cost him more than his enemy. "We have to join them. Perhaps we can help the men push through the defenders."

"It's too risky, my lord," Robard said. "I can lead the elite corps myself and join the battle."

"No. Let's go together," Gerald said. He turned around and signaled for the elite corps.

His Warriors quickly joined him. He unsheathed his sword, keeping his shield in hand.

Robard abandoned his shield and drew his long sword. He dropped his visor in place and looked like a steel fortress moving as he followed Gerald.

Gerald abandoned the cover of the mantlet and charged at the gate with his shield covering his head. Robard was charging by his side, and the Warriors of the elite corps were only steps behind.

He covered the distance quickly and reached the clogged gate. His men were like a mass of ants surrounding the gate, yelling all sorts of obscenities at their enemies while receiving similar treatment from the defenders.

"Out of the lord's way!" Robard shouted. "Open a path."

The infantrymen heard Robard and some of them began opening a path for the charging elite corps.

At first, Gerald sailed smoothly through the mass of men. But as he got closer to the front of combat, it became more difficult to advance. He pushed forward through his men, while Robard pushed those in front of Gerald aside. The elite corps followed behind, similarly pushing their way through with difficulty.

He slowly advanced until he could clearly see the front line of his men in a fierce but cramped melee with the defenders. They were mostly pushing against each other with their shields and trying to slip their swords through the gaps to stab their opponents.

Robard helped Gerald push forward until they finally reached the front of combat. The knight pulled one of the infantrymen in combat back, making room in front of himself without stepping forward.

Gerald was surprised to see Robard swinging his sword up high for an overhead strike while he still had some room in front of him. The head knight brought his sword down onto one of the defenders, his sword hammering the shield down and cutting into the defender's shoulder. He followed by a fierce kick to the defender's shield. The latter staggered and lost his footing. Robard took the opportunity and stabbed him in the face.

Another defender tried to stab Robard, but his sword struck the knight's steel armor and easily slid off. Robard responded with a stab that grazed the defender's shield then grazed his side too, drawing blood. The defender realized that caution was the better choice and properly took cover behind his shield, unwilling to attack Robard again.

Gerald quickly found some footing for himself and stepped beside Robard into combat. He kept his shield in front of him and pushed against the defender opposite him. The latter pushed back and the stalemate didn't change. Both sides had more men behind to make up for any lack of strength.

Gerald realized that the spot they had advanced to was manned by more of Luwin's new recruits and less of his experienced band members. It was a good place to try piercing through. But he waited until a few of his Warriors could join combat. He and Robard couldn't push through on their own.

He found that even Robard couldn't swing his sword properly now, but the knight didn't have anything to worry about with his armor. The enemies had to try striking at his joints if they wanted to harm him, and that would allow him to counter attack and make them regret their decision.

Gerald and Robard held their ground while the Warriors of the elite corps began to find their footing on either side of the two of them.

Gerald saw some of the well-armed defenders pushing against his newly emerged Warriors. He assumed that some of those defenders were also Warriors. But even a Warrior wouldn't have enough room to do anything in this type of combat.

However, Gerald believed that if he had a whole line of Warriors by his side, he could push forward and create some room to advance.

When he saw enough men from the elite corps by his side. He glanced at Robard. "Make sure I don't lose my head."

His head knight's face changed when he heard those words, and he opened his mouth as if wanting to disagree, but he didn't get the chance.

Gerald gave up his footing and took half a step back. The man behind him prevented him from stepping back anymore than that. As the defender in front of him gained half a step forward, Gerald quickly knelt down allowing the defender to push forward even more with his upper body.

While Gerald was kneeling down, the defender had raised his sword and was preparing to come down on him with an overhead cut. But Robard hurriedly put his arm in the path of the sword, blocking it with his gauntlet. The head knight grunted as the sword hammered his arm down, and he tried to push Gerald's opponent with his shoulder, but he failed to move the defender with how crowded it was. He also received a few strikes from the defenders in front of him while he was occupied helping Gerald, but he made use of his experience and shrugged them off with his armor.

The kneeling Gerald abandoned his sword and drew his dagger, slashing the defender's knees with all his strength. The latter yelled in pain and lost all balance. Gerald raised his shield, grabbed his sword, and pushed forward while standing up.

He pushed the defender down with his shield while he got to his feet. The next defender behind the fallen one tried to step forward to take his place, but Gerald trampled his original opponent and pushed forward, stabbing the next defender in the neck before he could raise his shield properly. With the room he had, he successfully made the next defender stagger with a kick. "Forward!" Gerald yelled. "Push through!"

Robard found enough room to his side as Gerald stepped forward. He swung his sword sideways and struck the defender in front of him with a wide sweep. The defender staggered, only to receive a stab to the groin.

Robard pulled his sword free from the defender's groin and pushed forward, making use of the room Gerald had made. He swung his sword and struck the enemies at his sides as he advanced, ignoring the prepared ones ahead of him. The enemies at his side were less prepared.

Gerald kept striking at the defenders, preventing them from filling what little room he'd created. He waited for Robard to come to his side and decided step back. "You lead," Gerald said. His head knight was much stronger than him and better at using his blade too. He let Robard become the head of the spear while he protected the knight's vulnerable back. The Warriors of the elite corps followed the two of them, driving a wedge through the enemies' ranks.

"Just a bit more," Gerald muttered. The wall wasn't very thick. That meant they were only a few steps away from getting through the gate.

Robard slashed and stabbed as he slowly pushed forward, leaving death in his trail. He received a some slashes that did nothing to stop him, but Gerald saw him receiving a few stabs through his the joints of his armor. He was certain that Robard was already wounded. The head knight said nothing as he moved forward, gaining them more ground but at a snail's pace.

Gerald stuck behind him and fought off the surrounding defenders while his Warriors did the same for him. He received a few strikes himself, but he blocked most of the ones from his left with his shield. He tried to parry or block those coming from his right, but some of them got through and cut through his leather armor, sometimes grazing or poking his skin.

I need better leather armor.

He heard a shout from Robard and saw the knight kicking forward fiercely. Then Gerald finally saw the bandit camp behind the defenders. They were finally through the gate.

Robard found more room to swing his sword, but he was soon blocked by two enemy Warriors.

Gerald stepped beside him and faced one of the two enemies. The Warriors of the elite corps took to the pair's sides, facing the other defenders.

Once Robard found himself in single combat against one of the two enemy Warriors, his swings became more aggressive.

Gerald focused on his own opponent and parried a few of his strikes. He then stepped forward with a flurry of thrusts. His opponent stepped back and struggled to defend.

Gerald made use of the quick fighting style of his lightning attribute and continued his flurry of attacks, giving his enemy no opportunity to strike back. The enemy Warrior didn't show him any openings though. Although Gerald had a slight advantage, he failed to wound his opponent. He assumed that this Warrior was more experienced than he was.

His assumption was soon proved right as his opponent grew accustomed to his attacks and began striking back every once in a while.

Soon, they were both exchanging strikes evenly. Before Gerald could think of a way to gain an advantage again, he saw a blade piercing through his opponent's rips. The latter groaned in pain and staggered as the blade pierced deeper into his body.

Gerald looked to his left and saw Robard holding the blade. The knight had already killed his opponent and was aiding him.

As Gerald's opponent fell, he and Robard pushed forward with the elite corps at their sides.

Gerald finally saw the camp clearly as they got past the wall. The fierce expression on his face gradually changed into a triumphant smile. Victory was close at hand.

Chapter 40

Chapter 40

As he stepped into the grounds of the fortress and saw the bandit camp, Gerald's smile widened. He glanced back at the gate. The elite corps had barely wedged their way through the bandits. The infantry of Ard followed after them, pouring into the opening the elite corps had made in the defenders ranks. Like a rush of flooding water, Gerald's men burst through the defenders and into the fortress.

The crowd of defenders soon collapsed into chaos, and the bandits began fleeing into the depth of the camp.

"Get to the stairs," Gerald yelled, glancing at the walls where the battle was still blazing. "Corner them."

Two groups split off from Gerald's infantry and moved in opposite directions, heading to the stairs leading up to the walls. After Gerald's success in breaking through the gates, Luwin's men were left with two choices. Foolishly keep fighting on the walls, and in that case they would be surrounded and annihilated; Or Retreat from the walls and let Edgar's men pour into the fortress along with Gerald's men.

Gerald gazed at the bandit camp, mostly full of tents just like the previous ones. The only difference was that there were some houses and cabins erected, likely belonging to the upper ranks of Luwin's men.

He looked at his men who were still pouring through the gate. The infantry had suffered considerable losses in the initial attack on the gate, and he'd noticed some of the Warriors of his elite corps disappearing during his aggressive advance, never to appear again. Luwin's men weren't the rabble his men had fought before.

Before he could tell himself that it was almost over, he heard vigorous war cries coming from the depth of the camp. Soon, he spotted a crowd of enemies approaching from between the houses and tents. They were led by a tall, thin man who wore colorful leather armor.

"That's one of Luwin's lieutenants," Robard said. "It seems that they're trying to mount a counter attack."

Gerald eyed the enemies that were hastening their pace into a charge. Their leader was one of Luwin's two lieutenants who were Sky Warriors. Gerald wondered why two experienced combatants of their quality would follow Luwin even when he'd degraded into a bandit.

"It's their last gasp," Gerald said, raising his sword and preparing to advance. The bandits were clinging to the hope of a successful counter attack. "Let's meet their charge with one of our own."

Robard quickly put his arm in front of Gerald. "My lord, it is true that this is their last gasp. That's why you mustn't lead a charge towards them. I have fought desperate men before. A desperate man will have more courage than the bravest of knights and more strength than the wildest of beasts. We should try to contain our enemies' excitement for now."

Gerald glanced at his head knight, noticing the meaningful stare behind his visor. "Alright," Gerald said. Then he turned to the elite corps and the infantrymen that had filled the entrance of the fortress. "Form up!"

The infantrymen had lost their formations as they attacked the gate, but their commanders were still among them. Gerald soon heard the yells of those commanders urging the soldiers to form ranks in preparation for the enemy's counter attack.

The infantry formed several ranks. Two of them were in front of Gerald and his knight. The pair were in the third rank along with the elite corps, awaiting the enemy's charge.

Gerald saw Luwin's lieutenant leading the bandits' charge with purpose, like the head of a spear. A familiar silence ensued as the enemies drew closer.

The few moments of silence among Gerald's men were soon interrupted by the roars of the charging bandits, who approached with frightening pace. The roars continued until the bandits finally reached the Gerald's men, crashing into the infantry's ranks like wild bulls.

As the charging enemies smashed into the infantry, the rank of men in front of Gerald jerked back, pushing Gerald and those beside him backwards as well.

Yells of anger and screams of pain burst out from the front ranks. The charging bandits had broken through the first rank and dived into the second one, halting there. Gerald heard the sound of metal clashing against metal. He saw the rank in front of him losing its form, its men descending into a melee with the bandits.

He roared and raised his sword, advancing along with the third rank and joining the melee with Robard at his side. He abandoned his shield and charged at the nearest enemy. The bandit was pushing back one of his infantrymen. Gerald leapt to his side and delivered a quick stab that found its way through the bandit's ribs.

He turned around and found Robard next to him, fending off another bandit then shortly dispatching him. Gerald advanced deeper into the melee, his knight by his side and his elite corps following behind him.

In the chaos of combat, he came across another enemy. Gerald attacked, only for his strike to be blocked. The enemy was a Warrior. Gerald spotted a few of his opponent's subordinates coming in his direction. The Warriors of the elite corps advanced to meet them, and Robard protected Gerald's back. The chaos of the melee could spawn an enemy behind one's back at any moment. Gerald's head knight had taken it upon himself to meet any unfortunate enemy who might appear behind his lord.

Gerald focused on his enemy. The latter ignored the heat of combat that would drive men to charge madly at their opponents. He circled Gerald carefully then attempted a python-like thrust. Gerald barely parried it, but he didn't get room for a counter attack. His opponent stepped back and created some distance, circling him again.

Gerald chose to be patient, circling his opponent as well. The latter was eying his defense, apparently waiting for the tiniest of mistakes.

Gerald chose to give him one. He leaned to his left side as he circled his opponent, leaving an opening in the right side of his body. His enemy instantly spotted it and leaned in for a quick thrust.

Gerald smirked as he visibly regained the balance that he'd never lost. He'd learned this trick from Uncle Rudolf. The thrust struck air instead of his gut. Gerald didn't give his opponent a chance to retreat. He delivered a fierce strike to the latter's extended shoulder. The bandit grimaced in pain as the blade slashed its way through his flesh. But Gerald didn't stop there. As his opponent took a step back for respite, Gerald took a step forward. He followed his previous strike by a sideways slash with his outstretched sword.

His sword cleaved through the air and its tip barely managed to cut his opponent's throat open.

The enemy Warrior grabbed his throat with one hand. While Gerald looked down at sword that had its tip buried in his armor. Gerald's deadly second strike had given his opponent the time to weakly strike him with his outstretched sword as well. His opponent's sword had pierced his armor, and its tip had broken his skin below the ribs but the slight wound wasn't worth any worry. He stepped back and the sword slid out of his armor.

His enemy was still holding his throat, and Gerald could see some hope for survival in his eyes. His throat wasn't thoroughly cut. The bleeding wasn't even that bad. Perhaps if a skilled physician arrived on the spot, he could save the drying Warrior. Gerald just scoffed.

He stepped up and delivered a strong stab to his opponent's chest, piercing his leather armor and his heart.

As the dead Warrior fell, Gerald ran his eyes over the surrounding battle. The heat of the enemy's charge had receded, and his advantage in numbers had finally appeared. Gerald found each of the enemy bandits fighting at least two, if not three, of his men.

He easily spotted Luwin's lieutenant close by. The latter's armor was a mix of red and bright yellow, reminding Gerald of the birds he used to see in Malfi City. The enemy lieutenant was surrounded by three Warriors of the elite corps, barely keeping himself alive.

Gerald saw one of the Warriors circle him and step in for a thrust to the Sky Warrior's knee. The latter evaded it, but didn't attempt a counter attack. Another Warrior approached the colorful lieutenant with an overhand slash. The lieutenant blocked it, only to receive a thrust to his side from another Warrior. He attempted to step away after a grimace of pain but failed. The first Warrior had come to his other side, stabbing him in the shoulder. The lieutenant gave up all hope and slashed with his sword, delivering a deep gash to the Warrior in front of him. The other two Warriors took the opportunity and stepped forward with deadly thrusts.

Gerald saw the enemy lieutenant getting skewered by the two swords and slumping to ground dead.

The battle soon slowed down as the bandits began losing their drive and getting surrounded by Gerald's men. One by one, the remaining enemies were worn out by their numerous opponents and easily killed.

Gerald moved forward until he reached the foremost of his men, then he glanced towards the walls. He saw Edgar's men and his own men who were fighting on the walls climbing down the stairs and advancing towards the camp.

He roused the surrounding men and charged towards the rest of the camp as well. The first few tents and houses were deserted. The rest of the bandits had fallen back deeper into the camp.

As Gerald advanced from the middle and Edgar's men from the sides, they were met with what remained of the bandits.

However, those bandits walked towards the charging attackers dispiritedly and slowly dropped their weapons.

"We surrender!" a yell came from behind the bandits. A man of average height soon appeared, his voice sounding again, "we surrender, your lordship. If you promise to spare us, we won't resist you anymore."

"That's Luwin's other lieutenant," Robard said with a shocked expression.

Gerald was puzzled by the shock on the face of his head knight. But he soon saw something. A head, hanging by its hair in the hand of the lieutenant, its features bloody but discernable. "Is that . . .?"

Robard raised his visor and uncovered his face, slowly gulping. "Yes. That's Luwin's head."

Gerald saw his men slow down as the bandits surrendered. And Edgar's men halted their charge as well.

"This is Robben Luwin's head, your lordship," the lieutenant said, his voice resounding in the camp. "I gift it to you."

Chapter 41

Chapter 41

The Red Rain band and Gerald's men had stopped a distance from Luwin's men. The bandits were also standing still, their weapons on the ground, though they had enough room to pick them up again and fight.

Luwin's lieutenant yelling that his chief's head was a gift for Gerald meant that they wanted to negotiate.

Gerald didn't mind. There were only a few enemies remaining, but he would still prefer not to lose any more of his men needlessly. He stepped forward and began walking to the middle of the empty ground between the attackers and the defenders, followed by Robard.

Two Warriors of the elite corps quickly moved to Gerald's side at Robard's command. They raised their shields and covered him. Obviously, his head knight didn't trust the bandits.

While Gerald moved forward, Luwin's lieutenant also moved to meet him, but the latter came alone.

"Your lordship," the lieutenant said as he drew closer then stopped a few yards away from Gerald. "You can call me Rupert. I hope you will pick the more reasonable choice here." He tossed Luwin's head to Gerald's feet.

Robard picked the head up and observed its features, then he nodded. "It's him, my lord."

"Very well," Gerald said. "What is it that you want, Rupert?"

"Mercy," Rupert said. "Nothing more."

"If you just wanted to live, you could have escaped by yourself," Gerald said.

"I'm no fool, your lordship," Rupert chuckled. "You came here with the intention of killing every last one of us. I know that the fortress is watched from every direction. I saw your cavalry."

"Is that why you betrayed your chief?" Gerald smirked.

Rupert's eyes sharpened at the mention of betrayal. "Luwin lost all reason. He wanted us to fight to our deaths, even though there was no hope of victory."

"I expected nothing less from him. He would have lost his head had he surrendered, after all. But he ended up losing his head sooner than he'd expected," Gerald said as he observed Rupert. The latter was wearing an iron breast plate over thin leather armor that extended to his wrists. He had brown hair that reached his shoulders and a thin scar on his neck.

"I didn't want him to drag me to death with him," Rupert said. "I followed him because he had ambition and reason, and today he lost both."

"Yes. Ambition," Gerald said. "I want to hear about that."

Rupert smiled. "Your lordship, I will answer all of your questions once you give us your word that we will live."

Gerald was quite surprised that Rupert truly wished for mercy and nothing else. He would have expected the man to ask to be set free. Although Gerald would have refused, it was still a demand within his expectations. After all, the bandits would mostly be forced to work in the mines or do labor, while Rupert would be imprisoned, likely for life. Perhaps the Sky Warrior had hopes of being able to escape, or of Gerald recruiting him at some point.

"On the honor of House Tellus," Gerald said, his voice echoing between the fortress's walls. "You have my word that none of you will be harmed." He was the victor. There was nothing to lose by sparing what remained of the bandits, considering that they would all become his prisoners.

After his words were heard, the bandits' faces showed signs of relief. Many of them even grinned in delight.

"Thank you, your lordship," Rupert said.

"Yes, yes," Gerald said, waving his hand. "Now tell me what I want to know."

"Of course," Rupert said. "Luwin hid a lot from us. But he told us enough to keep us by his side. All I know is that he was the bastard of some noble. His father didn't acknowledge him."

"Which noble?" Gerald asked instantly. He hadn't expected Luwin to have been a bastard. Though it wasn't surprising that a bastard would choose the path of mercenaries. Some bastards who were acknowledged, like Duke Malfi's youngest son, would live and grow in their father's territory; while others like Luwin who weren't acknowledged would have to find their own path.

"I don't know who his father was, your lordship," Rupert shook his head. "He never told us. His plans weren't ever clear, which always made me suspicious. From what he has said, he wanted to make the southern third of your basin his. He was planning to legitimately make it his barony."

"And you believed him?" Gerald scoffed.

"He had noble blood in him, your lordship," Rupert shrugged. "It was promising, what he offered us. If he'd succeeded, we would have gained a lot. That's why we followed him. He might have not had support from his noble family, but Luwin had ambition, the sort of ambition nobles have. We believed in that. We believed in him."

Yet you killed him.

"You know nothing else?" Gerald asked, impatient. Rupert's words only gave him more questions instead of an explanation. It was obvious that Robben Luwin acted on his own. Even if he had a father who was a lord somewhere, the latter was likely oblivious of Luwin's plans. His ambition was quite odd. Was he planning to simply lay claim to Gerald's lands using force? That wasn't possible. Even if he had noble blood in him, nobody would acknowledge a bastard who'd gained his land through banditry.

A Lord could take another's land if he won it in fair battle. Even though the Royal Capital wouldn't approve of it, they would still not deny the victor his ancient right. That was why most Kings tried to prevent conflicts from happening in the first place, or they would try to stop them in their beginnings. But according to what Gerald had heard so far, the Royal Capital was losing its grip on such conflicts.

Luwin, however, was not an acknowledged noble, nor did he have any claim for Gerald's lands. Perhaps he'd thought that the weakness of House Tellus was an opportunity for him to gain something.

Rupert shook his head. "That is all I know, your lordship."

Gerald sighed. "Then let's end this. Tell your men to truly surrender."

Rupert nodded then turned around and waved his hand.

The bandits began advancing slowly without their weapons.

Robard also turned around and signaled for some men to advance and capture the defeated bandits.

. .

.

From noon to dusk, Gerald's men scoured the camp for any gold that was hidden. Every valuable was found and every coin counted.

Gerald was in one of the houses, lying on his back and thinking, while his men collected the wealth of Luwin's crew.

He had lost 450 men during the battle. 400 of them were infantry, 5 were Warriors from the elite corps, and the rest were archers. And he had as many as that wounded. His losses would have been even worse had he fought without the Red Rain band. Edgar had lost 500 of his mercenaries in the battle. Each one of Edgar's men was at least as capable as Gerald's best veterans. Gerald wasn't certain how the battle would have ended if he hadn't had the help of the mercenaries.

There was a knock on the door that interrupted his thoughts, then Robard came in.

"We've cleaned the camp of all coin, my lord," Robard said. "Seven thousand gold coins were found."

"Huh," Gerald sat up. "That's too little. Are you certain that's all?"

"Yes, my lord," Robard said. "There are almost no valuables here. I think Luwin might have been selling his goods through the southern pass."

"That is likely," Gerald nodded. "But that can't be all of Luwin's wealth. He had the south in his hands. Every merchant that went into the basin passed by the south. He must have more. Perhaps he's buried a portion of his gold. Bring me Rupert. We ca—"

A hurried knock on the door interrupted him.

"Come in," Gerald said with a raised brow, wondering who would come now.

It was Edgar that entered. "Your lordship," he bowed slightly.

"Edgar," Gerald said. "Is something the matter?"

"Your lordship," Edgar sighed. "You've been looking for gold since noon, and it's already dark. I believe there is no more coin to be found. And I think there is no need for your men to stay here any longer."

"Are you telling me to leave?" Gerald's face changed.

"I am indeed, your lordship," Edgar said, unperturbed. "You've promised me this fortress. That means that it belongs to me and my band. You have no right to stay here longer than your welcome."

Robard stepped forward, gripping the hilt of his sword. "Watch your words, Edgar."

Edgar chuckled. "Oh, might the Viscount be thinking of breaking his word?"

"I am not," Gerald said. "But we haven't found all of Luwin's wealth yet. There might be more hidden somewhere."

"That is unlikely, your lordship," Edgar smiled. "We've looked everywhere."

"Except under our feet," Gerald said, his expression already ugly. Edgar was obviously aware that there was more gold somewhere, and he wanted it for himself.

"I don't intend to dig, or allow anyone to dig, in my fortress," Edgar said. "I hope you will honor your words and allow me to decide what to do with the land you've given me, your lordship."

Gerald was silent for a moment. Edgar was being audacious. But the mercenary had nothing to lose. He wasn't on the best terms with Gerald to begin with. So making their relation a bit worse for the gold would do him no harm.

Patience, Gerald. Patience, Gerald told himself, pushing down his fury. His treasury would only gain half of what was found so far. That meant he would return to Ard with only 3500 gold coins after such a costly battle.

"Alright," he told Edgar. "We'll be leaving now." Then he turned to Robard. "Prepare the men for the return to Ard."

"Wait, your lordship," Edgar's smile widened. "If you're in need of more coin, I might have a good offer for you."

Gerald narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?" he said. Perhaps the mercenary captain was planning to use this chance to toss him an insult in disguise. Gerald would remind him of his place if that happened though.

"Your prisoners," Edgar said, a hint of greed in his eyes. "If you let me have some of them to recruit into the band—"

Gerald guffawed. "You want me to set the bandits free for you?" he said, still laughing with apparent ridicule.

"They wouldn't really be free," Edgar said. "They would have to be part of my band for the rest of their lives. And I don't want all of them. I only want the former mercenaries. You can have my share of the gold if you accept."

Gerald snorted and shook his head. Over 500 of Luwin's men had surrendered, and about 25 of them were Warriors.

Edgar had lost more than half of his band, and most of the survivors were wounded. He wanted to refill his ranks. The offer was appealing, as Gerald needed the gold. But he had other plans. "No. Keep your gold. Those who rob in my territory will never taste freedom after falling into my hands. We're leaving."

Chapter 42

Chapter 42

A day after the battle, Gerald was sitting in his study. He rubbed his forehead slightly. After bringing back half the gold from Luwin's camp, his treasury now contained 10500 gold. The next year was still a few months away, but he still had to set aside 5000 gold for its expenses. That meant that he was only left with 5500 gold, which wasn't much, considering that he had to refill the army's ranks and replace the fallen men. He would also have to arm the new soldiers.

There was a knock on the study's door.

"Come in."

The door was slowly pushed open, then Harrid stepped in.

"Harrid," Gerald smiled. "You're back." He gazed behind the boy and spotted who he was looking for, Yanna.

"My lord," Harrid bowed.

"My lord," Yanna said as she entered, bowing as well.

"You two have been away for quite a few days," Gerald said. "Did it work, Yanna? Did homeless people arrive at the house?"

Yanna shook her head. "Only five came to the house, my lord. The rest are all scared."

"Huh," Gerald rubbed his chin. "Well, I suppose it was too wishful."

"But Yanna sent those five to the rest," Harrid said hurriedly, wearing a wide grin.

"You did?" Gerald raised a brow, eying Yanna.

She nodded. "I promised them coin if they brought news from the others. After they bring me the news from the other homeless on the streets, I give them coin, and they split it with the others."

"So there is a way for it to work," Gerald smiled. "This is very good. Is there any important news then?"

"Yes," Yanna said. "Madame Grina has been sending letters out every day for the past fortnight."

"To whom?" Gerald asked, his expression turning solemn.

"I don't know, my lord," Yanna said, shaking her head apologetically. "They've been very discreet. The homeless ones who saw it noticed it by chance. We're not even certain when she began sending out letters. It might have begun earlier than a fortnight ago. And following the couriers of the letters is too dangerous. No one will do it even if we offer gold. They could get killed."

Gerald leaned on the table and rested his chin on his fingers. "Most likely, those letters are for Renard. You did well, Yanna. You can take a rest and continue reading with the head maid. Go to the house again after your rest, and keep an eye on Grina as usual."

"Yes, my lord," Yanna said.

Gerald turned to Harrid. "And you, you've been with Yanna since she left. That's enough time wasted. She has guards. You don't need to worry about her. From now on, you'll stay in the keep and do what an attendant does. You also need to continue your training."

Harrid glanced at Yanna hesitantly. Then he gave in and nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"Alright," Gerald said. "Arthur and Robard should be waiting outside. Harrid, let them in. Yanna, you can leave."

They both nodded and bowed before leaving.

A few moments later, Arthur and Robard entered. "My lord." They both bowed.

"You're both here," Gerald said. He gazed at Robard. The knight had received quite a few wounds during the battle, and he had chosen not to show any weakness since then. The wounds weren't severe, but they deserved some rest. Yet Robard hadn't stopped attending to his duties. "Arthur, have you handled the families of our fallen soldiers like I told you?"

"We've already begun handing out two gold coins to each family," Arthur said. "They will also receive half a soldier's wages for several years. Handing out two gold coins for each family will cost us 1000 gold."

"So the treasury is left with 9500 gold," Gerald sighed. "How much will the new recruitment cost us? We need to refill the army's ranks this month."

"Most of the expenses will come from the new equipment," Arthur explained. "And most of it is crafted by our armourers and the smith. It shouldn't cost us more than 1000 gold as well, leaving our treasury with 8500 gold." He stared at Gerald, almost reproachfully.

Gerald's mouth twitched a little. He hadn't expected to come back with so little gold. Arthur's worries about the treasury hadn't been groundless. "There are still other bandits. We'll get their gold. And since we've mentioned them. Have your prepared riders to represent the 'merchant' yet?"

"Yes, my lord," Arthur nodded. "Should I send the riders to the bandit crews tonight?"

"No," Gerald said. "Let them have some time. Send the riders to the bandits in two days, and offer to buy their goods at two-thirds the price. I want them to abandon any thought of trading with Canary again. We must become their sole source of news in Ard."

"I will do as you command, my lord," Arthur said. "Ah, and we have already begun trading with Gasper's crew. They hardly have any goods. But we've been selling them ale as an excuse for the visits."

Gerald smiled. "Good." He would be able to exchange letters with Gasper and Uncle Rudolf instead of the latter visiting him every time. The visits could be limited to important matters from now on. "Robard, how long will you need to train the new recruits?"

"For the infantry, three months if you want soldiers capable of combat, my lord," the head knight said. Gerald had lost 400 infantrymen during the battle, and it would fall upon his head knight to train the new ones. "They won't be half as good as a soldier who has been to battle, but they won't run when the enemy charges."

"And it will be difficult to replace the five fallen Warriors as well," Gerald said. "But what about the archers?"

"Archers need much longer to train, my lord," Robard said with a wry smile. "We haven't lost many. But even training 45 new longbow archers will take time. A lot of young men know how to use a bow, but using a longbow takes a lot of training even for them. We'll have to recruit the most talented bowmen that volunteer and train them for at least 6 months, and they won't be as good as the rest of our archers. To train proper longbow archers, we need at least a year, my lord."

"Alright," Gerald said. "Do what you can. As for our losses, isolate them into a single regiment."

"But that would make one of our regiments very weak, my lord," Robard said. "A regiment with only 550 soldiers? It could hardly be called a regiment any more. We would have to wait months for the new recruits to fill its ranks."

"It won't bring us any trouble," Gerald said. "I also want you to put all the wounded who are recovering in that regiment. After that, you will send the regiment to the southern pass. They will guard there. And They won't have to fight in the coming battles."

Robard nodded, though he looked puzzled. "By your command, my lord."

"Now," Gerald said, looking at Arthur. "About our prisoners."

Arthur cleared his throat. "We've prepared for most of the bandits to be sent to the mine in the southeast, my lord. Members of the garrison will be sent there to guard them. As for the captive Warriors, we will keep them imprisoned to avoid any risks."

Gerald nodded. He was thinking of recruiting some of the Warriors captured from the battle, but he was worried they would desert as soon as they get the chance. As for Luwin's lieutenant, Rupert, Gerald didn't think of recruiting him for a moment. The man had betrayed his chief and former captain. Even if the betrayal was for good reason, Gerald didn't feel like taking any chances. Rupert would stay in the dungeons for now.

Gerald shook his head slightly. He would also have to be a little patient and let those captive Warriors rot in his dungeons for a while. Later he could take his time to recruit some of them into the elite corps. If a bandit's punishment was simply being recruited into his army, it would be like inviting more bandits to his territory. Many lords recruited captives, including bandits, but they only did it during wars and at desperate times. And He wasn't that desperate for the time being.

"Ah," Gerald suddenly remembered something. He pointed at Arthur. "I need you to send a letter to Gasper in the next few days. I want him to see how the bandit chiefs will take the news of my attack on Luwin. They should begin to trust us now, but let us be sure."

Chapter 43

Chapter 43

At night, Gasper was sitting with Master Rudolf in the cabin.

"The other crews should have heard about the battle by now," Gasper said. The Viscount had attacked the Silver crew 4 days ago. Gasper pointed at the letter on the table and said, "now we need to make sure that the chiefs are convinced that our 'merchant' is a better choice than Canary."

"They might still have their suspicions," Master Rudolf said. He had taken his mask off and was leaning on the table opposite Gasper. "But they won't just follow suspicion when they have proof that our merchant knows much more than Canary."

"Regarding that," Gasper said, narrowing his eyes. "If this cousin of the Viscount is so powerful, why didn't she know of his plans to attack Luwin? She only told the bandits that the Viscount was planning something with the Red Rain band. Couldn't she have bought one of the mercenaries and found out that the Viscount was going to attack Luwin?"

Master Rudolf grew silent. He gazed at the table, apparently deep in thought. "I'm not certain. Perhaps she wanted the bandits to be anxious. The more anxious they were, the more they would need her."

Gasper shrugged. It didn't matter for now. Perhaps she'd just never imagined that she would have competition from another merchant, so she hadn't put enough effort into keeping the bandits informed. His most pressing matter now was calling for another assembly. He needed to meet the bandit chiefs again. "I will send a rider to Viper tomorrow."

Master Rudolf nodded in response, then he stood up. "I will return to my tent then. It's past midnight. Get some shuteye." Then he put on his copper mask and left the cabin.

Gasper picked the letter up and passed it between his fingers. He was wondering when he would be able to return to Ard. He wondered what else the Viscount would ask of him. Most likely, Gasper would have to help him wipe out the rest of the bandits. Then perhaps after that, he would return to Ard and see his father.

He sighed, standing up. He went to his room and sought some repose in his bed. He lay down on it and gradually fell asleep.

. .

.

He dreamt.

Around him, there was a meadow, and he was lying down on his back in the middle of it. He couldn't look around him. He could only tell it was a meadow from the corner of his eye. The only place he could look at was the night sky. There were no stars in it, but there was a full moon gazing down at him.

He could feel his hands spread out on both sides. He couldn't move them. All he could do was look at the sky. It was relaxing, the faint smell of flowers in the air and the intoxicating feeling of comfort in his body.

But there was some faint noise in the air. A fly. It buzzed near his ear then flew up in front of his face. He stared at it in bewilderment. It was small and without color. He could see the light of the moon through it easily. The only thing that made him capable of actually seeing it was the way light reflected off some parts of its wings.

It swerved around his head and buzzed near his ear again. At first, its buzzing was bearable, but soon enough it became louder. Then louder. Then louder.

The buzzing near his ear eventually became deafening. He panicked. He tried to blow some air at it with the corner of his mouth. But the more he blew, the louder it got.

"Go away!"

The buzzing didn't stop. He could feel the pain caused by the sound in his ear. "Go away!" he yelled again.

"It won't," a man's sound came from nowhere.

He didn't know who it was, but he hoped that whoever it was would help him. "Why? Why won't it go away?"

"If you want it to go away, you have to wake up."

"What?" Gasper said, his head aching slightly.

"You have to wake up."

"Wake up?"

"Yes. Wake up."

"Wake up," the voice echoed.

"Wake up."

"Wake up," Gasper said, opening his eyes on his bed. He was looking at the ceiling. But that wasn't what unsettled him. His words had frozen the fly in place.

Except it wasn't a fly. In the corner of his eye, he could see someone in black, frozen in the middle of climbing in through the window. The shadow on the window quickly snapped out of his trance and hopped in. He was wearing light black leathers, and a cloth was wrapped around his head, hiding his face with only the eyes uncovered.

Gasper jumped up from the bed in cold sweat. He grabbed his sword that was nearby and was about to draw it when the shadow descended upon him with a dagger. Gasper tried to evade to the side, but the dagger followed him, barely missing his ribs and burying itself in his left arm. Half the blade of the dagger went into his arm, cutting through his flesh thoroughly.

He tried to kick the assassin away, but the latter pulled the dagger out and leapt backwards on his own.

The assassin unsheathed a sword. Gasper drew his sword as well. His left arm was bleeding badly, and he would likely have to fight with one arm. He was about to yell for help when the assassin leapt forward with a thrust.

Gasper stepped to the side and parried it, only for the assassin to follow the thrust with a vicious slash towards his neck.

Gasper raised his blade in time and blocked it. But his sword almost slipped out of his grip and he felt a familiar numbness in his hand as the swords clashed. Sky Warrior, he gritted his teeth.

He was about to leap back and try to yell again, but he heard a tearing and piercing sound then saw the tip of a sword protruding out of the assassin's chest. The assassin looked down at the blade sticking out of his chest, his eyes wide with shock. He coughed what Gasper assumed was blood, but the cloth on his face held it back.

Gasper wasn't certain what had happened at first, but then he stared behind the assassin and saw a familiar copper mask, covering the face of one old steward.

Master Rudolf pulled his sword out of the assassin's back, and the latter slumped to the ground.

Gasper was still stuck in place, unsure of what to say or do. But he saw master Rudolf kneeling down and uncovering the face of the assassin. The latter was still choking on his blood. He gargled, hopelessly trying to breath but to no avail.

Master Rudolf frowned and grabbed the assassin's face. "Can you speak?"

The assassin kept gargling with no response.

Master Rudolf shook his head and stared at Gasper. "He will die in a few moments. We can't get anything out of him. You don't know him, do you?" His voice was still as serene as ever, not the least bit anxious.

Gasper snapped out of his shock and approached the assassin. He knelt down and stared at the plain face and dark hair. "No. I've never met him before."

Master Rudolf nodded, as if expecting such a reply. "I don't think any of the men noticed what happened here. Let's take care of your arm and hide the body for now."

While they spoke, the assassin slowly stopped struggling, his life leaving him. Then he lay motionless.

"How did you know?" Gasper suddenly asked, his hand pressing his wound.

"Inexperienced thieves and assassins have a common habit," the old steward said, pointing at the dead man in black. "They move like cockroaches, pacing then stopping to look around every now and then." He gazed at Gasper. "And I always keep my tent open so that I can hear better."

Gasper grew silent. He didn't really know how to respond. Cockroaches? He rubbed his forehead and panted, feeling grateful that the old steward's tent was nearby. "Why are we hiding him?"

"There is no need to let your men know of this," Master Rudolf said. "At least not until we know who he is."

Gasper nodded and stared at the dead man on the ground. Why would a Sky Warrior come after him? He hadn't heard of any lieutenant who was a Sky Warrior among the bandit crews, and he'd seen all the chiefs. He couldn't think clearly yet, but he would have to find whoever was behind this sooner rather than later.

Chapter 44

Chapter 44

In his study, Gerald was standing behind his seat, looking out of the window. There was no wind, only heat so far. The hot summer wasn't pleasant, but it was nearing its end, and that meant a nearing summer harvest which would bring some gold to the house. The south was safe now, and merchants would soon appear in Ard. That meant that he would find people to buy any excess of his grain.

However, he doubted that the excess would last for long. The refugees were too many. And even though he would be liberating almost eight thousand farmers from the rest of the bandits soon, he wasn't certain that the grain would be enough to both feed the hungry and enrich his treasury.

It had been almost four months since he'd returned to the Viscounty. And the granaries were no longer full. They weren't near emptiness, but they no longer gave him that initial feeling of reassurance. The feeble summer harvest would serve to put some vitality in his granaries again. But it would all depend on how things go after eliminating the bandits.

Through the window, he could see three streets. Their previous muddy black was no longer there. It was replaced by an orderly gray. Arthur had finally finished building the gravel streets in Ard. He could still see the shapes of people moving along those streets, unclear but alive. Perhaps they had high hopes now. There was change, after all. The greatest bandit in the basin had been defeated. No one had not heard the news.

The Viscounty would soon come to life again. "All in due time," Gerald murmured, a smile creeping onto his face.

He was just about to return to his seat when he heard hasty knocking on the study's door. "Come in."

The door was opened and Harrid came in with an uncertain face. He scratched his cheek. "Master Rudolf is without, my lord," he said, glancing through the door. "He says that there is a pressing matter. Should I let him in?"

Gerald lost his smile. They were supposed to exchange letters whenever they wanted to inform each other of any news. Uncle Rudolf's visit meant that the matter wasn't something that could be discussed through letters. "Always let Uncle Rudolf in," Gerald said. "You don't have to ask." He lowered his forehead with his eyes still fixed on Harrid, as if awaiting for an affirmation from the boy.

Harrid straightened up and said, "yes, my lord!" Then he paced outside.

A moment later, Uncle Rudolf came in carrying a linen sack that was stuffed with what seemed to be soft materials. Gerald glanced over it then his eyes rested on the old steward's face. The latter had a solemn expression, but he still exuded a doting pleasantness when he met Gerald's gaze.

Gerald was still on his feet. He went around the table and hugged the old man who dropped the sack and patted Gerald's back. Since Gerald's return, Uncle Rudolf had mostly been away from him, instead of being by his side. He had been used to having his old steward nearby at all times since he was six. But he didn't have much of a choice lately. He had to put every bit of power he commanded to good use.

He stepped back and looked at his old steward intently. "Harrid said it was something important."

"Indeed," Uncle Rudolf nodded. "Gasper was almost killed last night."

Gerald's brows jumped. "How?" was the first thing that leapt out of his mouth.

"An assassin."

Gerald's face darkened. He found himself clueless. He'd never expected something like this to happen. He only had one question in mind. "Who was it?"

"We couldn't recognize him," Uncle Rudolf said helplessly. "And he wasn't just a random nobody. He was a Sky Warrior. Gasper had to surround his cabin with six guards after the incident."

Gerald breathed in then sighed in frustration. "If you two don't know who the assassin is, then I doubt I do." Then he suddenly remembered something and his eyes fell on the sack beside Uncle Rufold's feet. He shot the old steward a questioning glance, and the latter nodded. "Show me," Gerald said. Even though he doubted that he would recognize the assassin, he wanted to sate his curiosity.

Uncle Rudolf nodded and bent down, uncovering the contents of the sack, which were mostly pieces of leather and ragged cloths. Amidst them, there was something larger that attracted Gerald's attention. He fixed his eyes on what he expected to be the assassin's head.

Uncle Rudolf soon removed the cloths covering the assassin's face and Gerald knelt down to observe him carefully. But as soon as he caught sight of that face's features, his eyes widened in disbelief.

"You know him?" the old steward asked.

Gerald's breaths became irregular and his eyes were still wide. He was not as shocked as he was disbelieving. He calmed himself, as much as he could. "I might," he answered, persuading himself that he may be imagining things. Then he sprung to his feet and yelled, "Harrid."

The door was quickly opened and the boy came in. "My lord?"

"Summon Robard and Yanna here," Gerald commanded. Robard was likely training the new recruits, while Yanna would be at the house, receiving her news from the homeless. "Tell them to abandon whatever they're doing and come here right away." He paused. "And summon Arthur too."

"Yes, my lord," Harrid said, noticing the urgency in Gerald's voice and seemingly forcing himself to wear a solemn expression. Then he darted out of the study, shutting the door behind him.

..

.

It took a while for the three he'd summoned to arrive at his study. Robard and Arthur were soon standing in front of him, while Yanna stood slightly behind them with her much smaller stature.

Arthur and Robard exchanged greetings with Uncle Rudolf then gazed at Gerald patiently.

Gerald glanced at the wrapped up sack beside the old steward's feet and nodded to him. "Show them."

Everyone's gazes fell on the sack, and some uncertainty finally appeared on the face of Gerald's two aides.

Uncle Rudolf unwrapped the sack slowly then uncovered the severed head that was inside it.

The first to react was Robard. He took an involuntary step towards the sack, his eyes widening and almost bulging in recognition.

Arthur seemed surprised but he kept his composure. Unlike the head knight, he didn't seem to have recognized the face of the assassin.

Yanna, on the other hand, had a hand on her mouth, apparently trying to prevent her breakfast from pouring onto the floor. Gerald only now realized that he should have had her wait outside for this part. The girl had likely not seen something like this before. Perhaps she'd seen a dead homeless lying in a street before, but she was unlikely to have ever seen a severed head until this moment. Even the heads spiked outside of Ard's walls would only be seen by few people who would spread the word among the common folk. The girl eventually managed to avert her eyes, slowly calming her breath.

Robard stepped closer to the sack and knelt near it, observing the head solemnly. Then he stood up and stared at Gerald. "My lord?" he said, his tone questioning and almost demanding.

"So I'm right," Gerald stepped towards the sack. "It's him; Isaac, Edgar's lieutenant, right?"

"It is," Robard nodded, still dubious. "Who killed him, my lord? And why?"

"He got himself killed," Gerald said.

Then Uncle Rudolf spoke. "He tried to kill Gasper in his sleep."

While Arthur frowned at the two sudden revelations, Gerald's head knight showed an even more bewildered expression. "Why? Why would he try to kill him? This . . . "

Gerald walked to the table and slightly leaned on it, clenching its edge with a tense grip. He was furious. "What a fool I was," he said with a suppressed voice, shocking Robard whose face was still filled with confusion. "What a fool!" Gerald said again, then he shook his head with a wry chuckle. "I've underestimated her yet again, and I almost paid for it."

"My lord," Robard said, his face draining of all color. "You don't mean . . . "

"Who has Gasper hurt the most lately?" Gerald stared at his head knight. "It's Canary, or rather Grina. Gasper has given the reins of the trade with the bandits to another 'merchant', while Grina no longer has any influence over the surrounding crews. It's no wonder that she would want him dead, but what I didn't expect was the Red Rain band to be allies with her."

"My lord," Arthur said, his voice a little dry. "Are you certain of this?"

"I suppose we all will be in a moment," Gerald said, his eyes falling on the little girl in the study. "Yanna."

The girl's eyes were still looking as far away from the sack as they could. He doubted that she'd given much attention to what they had said so far. But as she heard her name, her turned face returned to its natural place and she looked at Gerald.

"You told me that Grina has been sending out letters every day lately," Gerald said. Then his eyes sharpened as he stared at the girl. "Now tell me, has this continued or stopped after the battle in the south?"

Yanna gulped slowly then said, "it has stopped since the battle happened, my lord."

"Yes," Gerald nodded, glancing at his aides who were looking at Yanna with puzzled expressions. Even Uncle Rudolf was moving his eyes between the girl and Gerald, as if waiting for an explanation. Gerald hadn't told them much about Yanna. Arthur had noticed something in the recent weeks, but Gerald had never explained. On the other hand, Robard and Uncle Rudolf were clueless about Yanna's endeavours. He chose not to explain now but to continue with the more pressing matter. "The letters stopped because Grina wouldn't risk sending a letter all the way to the fortress south of Ard. She had been sending those letters to Edgar when he was still in Ard. I assume that now she sends him word through his men who visit Ard from time to time. I doubt that spoken messages can be too elaborate, but sending Edgar word about the little annoyance in the east, which is Gasper, wouldn't be a problem, would it?"

Chapter 45

Chapter 45

"What are we going to do, my lord?" Robard said, glancing at the severed head in the sack again. "Are we still going to let your cousins roam free in Ard."

"We are going to do a lot," Gerald said. "I was simply fortunate this time, but there is no telling what would have happened had I not found out about this. I have been hesitating about my plans for Edgar and his band. I often wondered if those plans were too ruthless or perhaps even treacherous. But he has given me enough reason to seal his fate."

Gerald glanced at Yanna. "You can return now. Keep an eye on Grina's movements for the next fortnight. As soon as she steps out of her manor, you let me know."

"Yes, my lord," Yanna said, bowing. Then she left the study.

Gerald rubbed his neck which had become slightly sore. "Robard, you will tighten our patrols around Ard. We must prevent Grina from sending a single word to the bandit crews from today on. Don't prevent her from reaching Edgar though."

"By your command, my lord," Robard said.

Gerald nodded. He couldn't help but grit his teeth. If Isaac had never attempted to kill Gasper, what would have happened? Gerald had always had plans for Edgar and his band, but his hesitation would have ruined him. The mercenary would have eventually recruited more men into his ranks. Then what? Would Grina have found a way to open the gates of Ard for Edgar and his band during one of the darker nights? He shuddered just thinking of how foolish he'd believed her to be. He hadn't been the only one waiting for the return of the Red Rain band from the baronies south of the basin. Grina had probably been more impatient than him back then.

It was much clearer to him now, why Edgar would want to take the fortress in the south. Having it would mean having a foothold in the basin. But this would all end now. The basin had to be wiped clean, every part of it.

"Arthur," Gerald said, his voice cold.

"Command me, my lord," Arthur said solemnly.

"Send word from our 'merchant' to the bandit crews," Gerald said. "Tell them that the Viscount is planning to use the Red Rain's help again. Let them know that their turn is coming, and that the Red Rain band will play an important part in wiping them out. Also, let them know that the band is at its weakest now. With only 400 to 500 men alive after the battle, and almost half of them wounded."

Gerald couldn't abandon his honor and attack Edgar's band now. He'd given them the fortress and attacking them right after that would only be understood as him betraying his promise and turning on his friends. But he had other methods, better methods. He had been thinking of using the restless bandits against Edgar since their first meeting. But he had thought it too merciless and had hesitated for the past few days.

Arthur and Robard both instantly understood what Gerald's words meant. Brief shock appeared on their faces but they soon steeled their expressions in calm decisiveness. Arthur nodded. "I will make sure they receive word, my lord."

Gerald nodded for them to leave, and his two aides left.

Uncle Rudolf, who'd been silent for a while, glanced at Gerald's tense hand that was gripping the edge of the table. "You don't seem well."

Gerald shook his head. "I was too careless. I've almost been fooled by my cousin, not by a shrewd lord or a leering Duke but by my slightly crafty cousin."

"It's not as worrying as you might believe," Uncle Rudolf said with a comforting smile. "A man lives to learn, Gerald."

"I know," Gerald sighed, relaxing his grip on the table. "But I can't learn from my mistakes if I'm dead."

"Grina is clever," the old steward said. "But you've cut most of her strings in the basin. She would have had a hard time removing you from your seat. I doubt it would have been as simple as you are imagining. You are just not used to things being out of your hands. But not everything will be known to you, Gerald. In the years to come you will not always be the victor, and you will be fooled many more times. You can't let it unnerve you. You have to accept that you're not the only who can fiddle with the strings."

Gerald nodded in understanding, but he would have a lot to think about later. It took a few moments of silence for him to get his bearings again and speak. "Gasper no longer needs to call for an assembly with the other chiefs. He should wait."

"You don't want them to become suspicious, yes?" Uncle Rudolf said.

"Yes," Gerald nodded. "He will have to wait for them to invite him to an assembly on their own. There and then, he can make sure that things go the way I want them to."

Uncle Rudolf hummed for a moment. "What will you do after the bandits wipe the Red Rain band out and return to their nests?"

"They won't," Gerald said. "They will never see their camps again after eliminating Edgar. They have stayed in the family's lands for long enough."

Uncle Rudolf stared Gerald in the eye. "You're going to ambush them."

"Indeed," Gerald said. "Edgar might be weak right now, but with a fortress and almost 500 men, he can force a few losses upon the rabble of bandits before perishing. I will ambush the crews after the battle."

"Do you have enough men?" Uncle Rudolf asked.

"I don't need many," Gerald said, thinking with his eyes fixed on the floor. He tapped his lips with his finger as he contemplated the coming battle. "Gasper will play an important part in this ambush."

"So you will use his men, after all," Uncle Rudolf muttered.

"Yes. But that won't be enough," Gerald said. "You and Gasper will have to make sure that the two crews from the north return through the east. That way we won't have to face the combined forces of the four crews. We will ambush the two northern crews on their return through the east and the two western crews during their return in the west."

"That shouldn't be too difficult," Uncle Rudolf chuckled. "The two northern crews aren't on the best terms with the two in the west. I believe they'd prefer to pass by Gasper's territory instead of passing through the west."

Gerald forced a smile. "That sounds promising then. It would be best if you two could reach Edgar's living quarters before the others during the battle. I need those letters Grina sent. They should be enough proof, specially if I can get my hands on the letters he has sent her as well."

"I will let Gasper know," the old steward said. "Anything else?"

"Yes. Just one thing," Gerald fixed his eyes on his steward. "Don't let Edgar escape, Uncle Rudolf."

The old man smiled, almost mockingly, then nodded. "I will make sure he perishes with his men."

"Good, good," Gerald smiled too. "After this battle, Grina will have to pay for her schemes. I will not tolerate her anymore. The Viscounty will become clean at last. I only need to take this last step forward."

"I'm certain you'll succeed, Gerald," Uncle Rudolf said confidently. Then he sighed "I need to leave now. But I will send you a letter after the assembly."

Gerald nodded. "I will wait for your letter."

Soon, Gerald was alone in his study. He rubbed his forehead then walked back to his seat and slumped into it. Since he'd returned to the Viscounty, he'd been sleeping less than he was used to, but he'd never felt as tired as today.

He rested his throbbing forehead on the table and let that sweet call of comfort embrace him.

Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Under the night's dark sky, two mounted men led more than a dozen riders.

"We're drawing close," Master Rudolf said.

"Yes," Gasper said. He was handling the reins of his horse with his right hand. His left upper arm was heavily bandaged due to the assassin's stab.

Master Rudolf glanced at Gasper's arm and sighed. "During the battle against the mercenaries you should stay back. I can lead the assault. You won't be able to fight well with just one arm."

Gasper glanced at his injured arm as well, feeling a little bitter. The wound was noticed by his men a day after he'd received it, of course. He didn't need to give any of his men an explanation, but a myriad of rumors had spread in his camp. A wound that serious didn't come from a simple mishap during training. It was too obvious that it was inflicted by an enemy. He shook his head. "I have to fight during the next battle, even if with a single hand."

"Why take such a risk?" the old steward gazed at him.

Gasper smiled wryly. "Because I'm close. It is unfortunate that I'm wounded at a time like this, but the assassination attempt has helped push me forward."

"Close?" the masked old man couldn't hide the surprise in his voice. "To becoming a Sky Warrior?"

"Yes," Gasper nodded. "I only need one more spur forward and I will be there."

Master Rudolf paused for a moment then nodded. "It isn't too unexpected, I suppose. You've been in more than one bout of combat where you were too close to death."

"The next battle should do it," Gasper said. Then he looked ahead, spotting the lights around a familiar large house. They were at the outskirts of the village where the chiefs' assembly often took place. "Let's hope this assembly goes as expected."

ß--------------------------------------------------------à

Lucas rode ahead of more than two dozen of his soldiers. His lieutenant, Avir, was riding by his side. He was heading to the assembly in Viper's territory.

These assemblies always left a bad taste in his mouth. He didn't know if it was because of the bandit filth that he had to reason with or if it was because he had to bear with the idiocy of the other chiefs.

"This is the first time you bring me with you to one of these assemblies," Avir said. He was Lucas's second-in-command and an Earth Warrior.

When they had left the Duchy's territory, Avir had been a young lad, but he had had enough talent to become an Earth Warrior a few years after their departure. Lucas believed that he would soon become a Sky Warrior like himself.

"Things are changing," Lucas said. "I don't like how unpredictable our coming days are. And I'm not on the best terms with the brother and sister of the west." He sighed. He had to mingle with bandits if he wanted to survive. These assemblies weren't very safe, he believed. And them being in Viper's territory didn't invoke any trust from him. "I also don't like that Gasper."

"Hmm?" Avir grunted. "The one from the east. Doesn't he command the strongest crew now?"

Lucas snorted, but didn't smile. He carried his solemn expression most of the time. "I doubt it. It hasn't been long since he established his crew. Even if he has two thousand men, I don't believe they can fight well enough to be a threat to us."

"Still, inviting an enmity with him isn't wise," Avir said. "We have enough enemies, don't we?"

"Yes," Lucas sighed. "I just don't feel good about him. There is a lot of change happening in the basin, and he's somewhat part of that change. Perhaps the threat of the young Viscount is making me too mistrustful."

Avir nodded. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

Lucas saw a nostalgic smile on his lieutenant's face, and he smiled himself, but his smile was apologetic instead of nostalgic. "Keep our aim in your sight. Our path might be long, Avir, but we will arrive sooner or later."

"Yes," Avir said. "I just can't help but think of our fallen brothers. So many have died. I hope it isn't all for naught in the end."

"That's why we need to be cautious," Lucas said. "Even if we have to leave the basin."

"Leave?" Avir chortled. "Where would we go? North, where the borders are scrutinized by Andross nobles? After all, we certainly can't return to Westwell's territory. The Duke has already found us there once. We can't risk going there again. We lost many brothers last time. Good brothers."

"Good brothers," Lucas echoed with a nod. He had set out with two thousand soldiers, but now a bit less than a thousand remained. Every life lost had pained him, but he couldn't waver. He didn't have such a choice. "But you have to remember that the Duke isn't the only danger in this world, Avir. He is too far, while the current dangers are too close. The best he can do is to send assassins after us or ask one of Maric's nobles for a favor. He can't bring his men all the way from the Warring Duchies' lands to the Maric Kingdom."

"I suppose," Avir said with a frown.

Lucas could tell that remembering the past pained his lieutenant too. Avir had only seen 27 winters so far, but Lucas had chosen him as his second-in-command after his previous one had been killed. He'd chosen Avir out of all his loyal men because he had good senses.

The other chiefs didn't know that Lucas had 20 Warriors under his command. And Avir was one of the youngest among them. Yet he had chosen this young Warrior to be his highest lieutenant.

"We've arrived," Lucas said, spotting the dark village. The moon light could perhaps help him see the houses of the village on another night, but right now he could only see the well-lit building at one corner of the village. It was how he'd known that the village was there in the first place. The light illuminating the large house dimmed everything surrounding it in comparison. Only it could be seen from this distance.

Soon, a rider came and welcomed them. He led them to the smaller house where the assembly would be.

Lucas and Avir both entered the small house and found every one of the chiefs present. Lucas was the last to arrive. He knew that Harland and Estor had passed by his territory before he'd set out, but he hadn't rushed. Caution was more important in the coming days.

"Lucas. Welcome," Viper was the first to speak, wearing a wide smile.

Lucas nodded and went to his seat, while Avir stood behind him.

Lucas exchanged nods with Gasper and Harland. The latter nodded begrudgingly, but he nodded nonetheless. Edith, however, simply ignored his arrival. Sometimes he thought of her as childish more than anything else. She was rash, angry, and loud most of the time. She reminded him of a certain young lad in his camp. A lad he cared for a lot.

He couldn't show weakness though, not to her and not to others.

The assembly soon commenced. Viper was the first to speak as usual. "Everyone should have received the letter from our merchant friend, yes?"

Lucas nodded, and the other chiefs did too. He had received the letter warning him of the impending danger from the Viscount and the mercenary band. He didn't know what to make of it though. It was too ambiguous. Informing them of the risk of the mercenaries then telling them that the latter were at their weakest right now, wasn't this merchant simply inviting them to attack the Red Rain band.

Lucas didn't like to play into someone's hands.

"What do you think of this matter then?" Viper continued. "You should all know that the new Viscount isn't too welcoming towards us."

"Let's just kill the sellsword," Edith said disdainfully. "The last one was too strong to kill. This one isn't. Let's make short work of him."

The new chief, Gasper, was the one to speak next. "I believe that the mercenaries are a threat to us," he said, running his eyes over everyone including Lucas. "We must swallow him whole before he swallows us. The lord of Ard is impatient, and he will need the mercenaries if he wants to wipe us out. Let's remove the threat of the Red Rain band and send the Viscount a clear message at the same time."

"I agree," Harland nodded. "Removing that Edgar and his band can deter the lord from making any rash decisions regarding us in the future."

Lucas scowled but held his tongue. A bunch of dimwits.

Like a herd of sheep, they were complying with the merchant's disguised guidance.

"Shouldn't we be certain of the Red Rain band's intentions before acting?" Lucas finally said. "We shouldn't be rash ourselves, after all."

"Certain?" Edith sneered at him. "How can we be certain? And why?"

"We wouldn't want to kill someone who isn't truly our enemy, would we," Lucas said something that he, foolishly, thought would sound reasonable. But he'd forgotten who he was speaking to for a moment. He'd forgotten why he hated these assemblies so much.

Edith guffawed at his words. "Oh, the kind hearted knight is upon us yet again," she said amidst her laughter. "I've never known a bandit who refrains from killing peasants, except you, Lucas. But it doesn't mean that we'll follow your lead and show unneeded mercy. I won't risk letting the mercenaries get stronger because you're too craven."

Within his sealed mouth, Lucas gritted his teeth. It was true that his men had never hurt a single peasant during his stay in the basin. He would never stoop that low, after all. He wasn't like the piles of filth crowding this room.

Gasper who looked a little surprised spoke faintly. "Whether the Red Rain band is a true threat or not, we will have no other chance. We can't miss this opportunity to strike. If we do, they will become too strong for us to handle. We can't wait until they arrive at our camps to decide that they're the enemy."

"I agree," Viper nodded. "I also believe there is a lot of gold to be made from this. The mercenaries shouldn't be poor." Then his gaze landed on Lucas.

Lucas's mouth twitched. He wanted to say more, but there was nothing he could do if all the other chiefs agreed so vehemently. He glanced at Gasper and the tall masked man behind him. That masked one always caused his skin to tingle, as if he was the greatest threat in this small house, but Lucas mostly ignored the feeling. He was more wary of Gasper himself. The young man didn't threaten him with steel. The threat came from his words.

He'd taken a place among the bandits too quickly, and he'd even proposed trade with a certain merchant in Ard. The young chief's past was rather veiled, but he was daring in his ventures.

Lucas couldn't help but feel uneasy about him. But reality always suggested that his uneasiness was baseless. The merchant had delivered on his promises, and there was nothing solid to evoke suspicion on Gasper's part.

Lucas pressed down his worries and decided to listen to the plans of these fools for now. He didn't want to be left out just yet.

Chapter 47

Chapter 47

"We should begin by deciding when we will attack," Viper said.

Lucas glanced at him but didn't opine. He waited for the others to speak their minds first.

"We attack in two days," Edith tapped on the table. "It's enough time to prepare our men. We must strike while the iron is still hot. The sellswords are at their weakest now."

Harland nodded. "We won't get another chance like this again."

"I agree," the young chief, Gasper, spoke.

Lucas noticed Viper's gaze falling on him. The latter was likely waiting for a decision from him as well, but Lucas didn't want to commit to a decision in front of them yet. He kept his silence.

"Next, we should speak about our route," Viper said, staring at Lucas. The two of them were the ones who really needed to worry about a route, since Gasper, Edith, and Harland would be moving through their own territories.

Harland and Edith didn't speak, and neither did Lucas. There was no good choice, really. He didn't trust Gasper and he wasn't on good terms with Edith.

When Viper got no response, he spoke again, but not before glancing between Lucas and Edith. "I believe that Lucas and I should move and return through Gasper's territory."

Edith shrugged indifferently.

Lucas didn't want to depend on the new chief of the east, but he believed that Edith was much more volatile. She was rash and perhaps unreasonable at times. He didn't want to test her. He glanced at Gasper and found him keeping a straight face, but only the gods knew what was hidden behind that face.

"Ahem," Viper cleared his throat, trying to get through the silence, since no one actually replied to him. "The most important part would be how we will attack the fortress. We will need ladders at least."

"We can build some crude ladders. Properly sawed and pointed logs could do well as a rams," Harland suggested.

Lucas snorted, finally speaking when the folly went too far. "It's not that simple. The men carrying that log would die before even ramming the gate once, and I doubt you can build ladders good enough for a siege."

Harland glanced at Lucas but didn't retort while Viper seemed deep in thought.

"My men can build the ladders," Gasper said. "There are many refugees among them, and some of them would know how to do some woodwork."

Lucas found the words reasonable but a bit too convenient. He gazed at Gasper and waited to see anything on his face. But there was nothing to be seen. Gasper spoke as if he'd just gotten the idea, but also as if he didn't care whether the others accepted it or not.

"Are you certain we can depend on you regarding the ladders, Gasper?" Viper was the first to question. "We can't have any mishaps happen during the preparation for the attack."

"I am certain," Gasper said flatly. "It won't harm for every crew to build some additional ladders though."

Viper nodded in response then fixed his eyes on Lucas again, this time apparently with no intention to move them away. "Will you join us Lucas? Everyone else is going to have a hand in this." He ran his sharp eyes over the chiefs around the table. "And you should have a hand in it too."

Lucas faintly pressed his lips. He wasn't certain if it was a good idea to attack the sellswords, but he was certain that it wasn't a good idea to stay back when everyone else was going forward. It would contribute to isolating him from the other chiefs. And he already had conflicts with the brother and sister on the opposite side of the table.

Viper seemed to be quite serious about the matter, his eyes still fixed on Lucas.

Lucas noticed the gloating gaze of Edith, and the urging eyes of Harland. The young chief, Gasper, seemed to be trying to keep an indifferent expression, but his constantly moving eyes betrayed him.

He thought of how it would go if the Viscount came to the Red Rain band's rescue in time. It would be dangerous, but staying at his camp would also be dangerous. The other crews would be on the other side of the basin while he would be on his own, an easy prey for the Viscount should the latter decide to take it.

After a moment of hesitation, he decided to take the risk. But while the other chiefs would take most of their men to the assault, Lucas would take all of his. The fates of his men and himself might be decided in a single moment on the day of the assault, and leaving some of his men behind would only be foolish.

"I will join the attack," Lucas said, watching Viper's relieved countenance. The backstabbing filth looked too relieved. Lucas had a thought. Had Viper been worried that he would exploit this opportunity to attack his camp while he was away attacking the mercenaries? If so, then no wonder he had been so anxious to get Lucas to follow the herd.

"Very good," Viper's wide smile threatened to split his mouth apart. "This decides it then. I suppose everyone is agreed on everything we've discussed so far?"

Nobody objected. But Lucas thought he saw a familiar expression on Gasper's face, an expression of triumph. It was only for a fleeting moment and he wasn't certain it was really there, but it only made his doubts grow deeper. Perhaps he was imagining it, but perhaps he wasn't as well. Regardless, he would have to take the obvious risks. He would traverse the coming storm and hopefully come out of it as whole as he was before entering it.

There would be a storm, yes. That was for certain. He didn't doubt his instincts for a moment. They were tempered by years of experience and a soldier's forewarning senses.

Whether he would survive the storm, however, was something his instincts couldn't tell him.

ß------------------------------------------------------à

Three days after Gerald had the 'merchant' of Ard send the bandits the warning letter, he received a letter of his own from Gasper.

The long letter described what happened in the bandits' assembly, word for word. Apparently, Gasper had written down the words spoken by every one of the chiefs during the assembly. It was no wonder that the letter needed to be written on several parchments.

Gasper also asked for ladders for the siege. The mercenaries would make short work of the attacking bandits if the latter didn't have any siege equipment. If the assault were to prove too costly, it would likely end with a bandit retreat that would keep the Red Rain band problem unresolved.

There was a knock on the study's door, and Gerald's eyes left the parchments on his table. "Come in."

"You summoned us, my lord?" Arthur entered first, followed by Robard.

"Yes," Gerald said. "I need you to have a letter delivered to Gasper, Arthur." Then he remembered the matter of the ladders. He thought of sending the oldest ladders in Ard to be used by the bandits, but he quickly abandoned that thought. The ladders were supposed to be crafted by Gasper's men, which meant that they had to at least look newly crafted. Old ladders or ones that had been used in the recent battle might arouse the bandits' doubts towards Gasper.

"I also need you to head to Kale's workshop and have him craft some crude ladders," Gerald continued. "Perhaps you should even ask him if he has some slightly flawed ladders remaining from the time he crafted the ladders for our assault on Luwin. The most important thing is for theses ladders to look as new as possible."

"Yes, my lord," Arthur nodded. "This means the bandits have swallowed the bait right?"

"Indeed," Gerald smiled. He couldn't wait for it all to end. He had better things to do in the times to come, and he had to be rid of the bandits and Grina before taking even a single step forward. "Have you decided where it would be best to ambush the bandits, Robard?"

"Yes, my lord," Robard said.

Gerald spread a map of the basin on the table and looked at his head knight. "Show me."

Robard pointed at an area in the southwest and said, "In the west, we can trap and surround the bandits in this hilly area. The high ground can help our archers and crossbowmen suppress any resistance from the enemy, while our cavalry can strike their rear. The infantry only has to halt the enemy's advance while the rest of the army annihilates their ranks."

"Very well," Gerald nodded. "What about the east?"

Robard shook his head. "Unfortunately, my lord, there are no good places for an ambush along the bandits' expected route. In the east, we will have to depend on Gasper's numerous men and the element of surprise."

Gerald frowned. According to the letter, the deserter knight would be passing through the east, and he was the most threatening out of all the bandits. His men were mostly, if not wholly, tempered soldiers and he likely had a lot of experience. He was the least likely to panic during the ambush, and Gerald would have liked to have more advantages against him. Although Gerald was glad that the bandits were split in two like he'd wanted, there was still the threat of a bloody resistance from the former knight's crew.

"The bandits of the west will perhaps have less than 2000 men for you to ambush, Robard. Can you handle them with just two regiments?"

"The terrain should easily tip the scales in our favor, my lord," Robard said with a thoughtful expression that was unfamiliar to Gerald. "The rabble of bandits are likely to panic, and that should make their numbers worthless as well. Two regiments is enough, my lord."

Gerald nodded. "Then I will be taking a regiment to the east to join Gasper in ambushing the northern bandits. His recruited refugees are no match for a real enemy. And we don't know how many of them will remain after their attack on the fortress."

He would have to make due with a single regiment, since the fourth regiment of his army was at the southern pass, and most of its men were either wounded or newly recruited and still receiving their training in Ard. He'd sent them to the southern pass to prevent his enemies from escaping the basin. If Edgar were to successfully flee from the bandits, then killing him at the southern pass would be a simple matter. And Gerald could always claim that the mercenary was killed during the bandit assault. As long as his reputation wasn't tarnished among the public, there was nothing for him to worry about. A man's reputation and honor were decided by the tongues of common men before noblemen. The common man would spread the word, after all, and other nobles would mostly have to make their judgments based on the words of the people.

Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Gasper left his cabin in his leather armor. A familiar sting of pain struck from his left arm. He'd just applied the burning water. It would prevent the wound from festering, but it would also cause a lot of pain. He'd had to begin everyday by this torture since the day of the attempt on his life. The blade had cut too deep into his arm, and it was taking a lot of time to heal.

He glanced around the camp. Most of it was empty, aside from some of his men who were preparing some equipment to be moved out of the palisade.

Beside the cabin, he spied his horse. He quickly mounted it and rode through the camp and out of the gate.

Outside, his crew was awaiting him, over 2000 men ready to move. Most of them were poorly armed and poorly trained, but even 10 men armed with nothing but stones could still kill a veteran in full armor under the right circumstances. Numbers mattered. And they would certainly matter a lot today.

Gasper rode to the front of his crew where Master Rudolf and Erick were. He stopped beside the masked steward and met his reassuring eye for a moment.

"The ladders are on the wagons, chief," Erick broke the silence from behind. "We're ready to move."

"Have you prepared the men for everything?" Gasper stared at Erick.

"Yes, chief," Erick said. "They will be ready when it's time."

Gasper nodded. His men now knew that they would fight another battle after attacking the fortress. The second battle would be during their return, and it wouldn't be a pleasant one for them. No one liked to be the betrayer, specially when they weren't the ones benefiting the most from it.

Before signaling for the advance, he gazed at the sky. It was dawn, and the first light shone upon the dense clouds that loomed above. The sun was yet to be visible on the horizon, but its light exposed the odd state of the sky.

"Too cloudy for a summer day," he told Master Rudolf as he brought his horse beside him.

The old steward nodded slowly as he glanced above.

Gasper raised his right hand and signaled for his men to follow as he rode forward.

..

West of the forest, Gasper and his men came to a stop. He gazed at the north and it only took a few moments for him to spot two crews with comparable numbers approaching.

As the two crews drew closer, Gasper saw that Viper's crew was much like his own. The men weren't properly armed and almost all of them were on foot.

Lucas's men, on the other hand, were well-armed. Most of them wore clean leather armor of similar gray color. It gave them rhythm as they marched. Quite a few of Lucas's men were mounted as well.

Gasper spied the former knight leading his men. He was trotting ahead of them in his full steel armor, and Gasper couldn't help but remember Sir Robard again.

The two northern crews soon reached Gasper and he met their chiefs.

"Gasper," Viper greeted.

Gasper nodded. "Viper." Then he nodded to Lucas too, and the latter returned the nod.

"I suppose we have to continue towards the southwest now," Viper said. "We should find Edith and Harland there by the time we arrive."

"Yes," Gasper said, signaling for his men to begin moving. "We shouldn't dally."

The three crews moved together towards the south then the southwest. Gasper would glance back from time to time and watch the trail of raggedy brigands marching behind him and Viper. Without their weapons, Gasper believed they would look like a mass of migrating refugees.

In comparison, Lucas's men looked like a proper marching army.

Gasper's men were the most numerous, outnumbering the other two crews combined. He doubted that his crew could stand up to Lucas's in fair battle though.

During the march, the three chiefs often rode near each other, but their crews moved separately.

As they rode towards their destination, Viper said, "I brought 800 men from my crew." Then he glanced at Gasper.

"I brought most of my crew," Gasper lied. He'd brought all of his men. "More than 2000 men."

Viper nodded then stared at Lucas who ignored him and kept looking ahead for a few moments then finally yielded and spoke tepidly. "I brought most of my crew as well."

..

.

At noon, the three chiefs arrived at the meeting point. Gasper saw an army of bandits awaiting them in the distance. But as he and the other two chiefs drew closer, they spotted Harland leading those bandits on his own.

Viper urged his horse forward and galloped ahead of Gasper and Lucas. He rode all the way to Harland then stopped.

Gasper followed Viper, soon reaching him and Harland just as they began speaking.

"I don't see Edith," Viper said, a mix of anger and doubt in his voice.

Harland shook his head apologetically. "She couldn't come. The peasants of the village east of our forest rose up against her. They killed three of her men last night. She has to handle them today."

What a lovely beginning to today's plans, Gasper thought to himself. Edith wasn't here, so one of the Viscount's targets for the ambush was absent. And now Gasper had no way of informing the Viscount of this without being noticed. It was too late. He wondered if Master Rudolf could slip away during battle to inform the Viscount of this news, but he soon decided against it. The Viscount would likely be out of Ard by the time they are in battle.

Viper was still staring at Harland. The latter just smiled wryly.

"You need not worry," Harland said, pointing at the men behind him. "I have brought all of my men, and Edith has given me 800 of hers. She only has a bit more than 200 under her command now for that village."

Viper sighed, obviously still unconvinced.

Lucas who'd been trotting briskly behind them soon arrived. He glanced around then stared at Viper with questions in his eyes.

"Edith hasn't come," Viper said. "Some villagers have taken up arms against her. Most of her men are here though." He said the words and appeared to be searching Lucas's face for a change.

Gasper also waited for the former knight's face to turn purple, but the latter's expression didn't change. "Huh" the former knight uttered with no distress.

"So we can continued with this assault, yes?" Viper gazed at Lucas, awaiting an answer.

"Yes," Lucas said, a faint smile on his face.

Viper turned to Harland and nodded. "Let's move then."

The four chiefs began a quick march towards the south. The fortress wasn't far, and they would soon be upon it.

The scouts of the Red Rain band would likely spot them before their arrival. But that would change nothing. They would have no time to do anything aside from shutting their gates and manning their walls.

Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Gerald was walking through one of the corridors of the keep. He was heading to the Lord's Hall. Today was the day to end it all. He would meet his aides then ride out of the castle to put an end to his enemies.

A servant stopped by him. "My lord."

"Have they arrived?"

"Yes, my lord. They are all waiting for your lordship in the Hall."

Gerald nodded and strode forward. Before reaching the Hall, he heard another "My lord!" from far behind. He turned around and spied Harrid running towards him, and Yanna was following. "You've brought her," Gerald said.

"Yes. Yes, my lord," Harrid panted. "She has news too."

Gerald raised a brow. "What news?" He moved his eyes to Yanna who'd just arrived.

Yanna was panting after she came to a stop as well. "Madame Grina, my lord. She's left her manor."

"Where did she go?" Gerald asked, hoping that Yanna knew. He'd asked her to keep an eye on Grina just for something like this.

The girl didn't disappoint him though. "She's in an old house by the north gate of Ard. They say it used to be an inn before it's owner sold it."

Gerald nodded with a smile. "It's good that you know. I suppose Grina has good senses, after all. She's sensed the danger, but it's too late for her now. And she might have made a mistake too."

He continued his stride to the Lord's Hall with a smile. If everything were to go as planned today, the Viscounty would be granted a new beginning. He could build it up to something his ancestors couldn't have imagined. Perhaps a painting of him would someday be put in the Ancestral Chambers with an achievement as grand as his seventh ancestor's. The only Battlemaster in the history of the family, his seventh ancestor, had expanded their territory and raised their house from a minor noble family to a decent one with a considerable area of land.

After a few steps he glanced behind and saw Yanna and Harrid still standing there. He thought for a moment then smiled. "You two can join us. Follow me." He didn't mind the two of them being there and listening. It would do no harm. Perhaps they'd grow accustomed to it with time too.

Gerald arrived at the Lord's Hall and entered, followed by Yanna and Harrid. He glanced over his aides and stepped up to his seat. Arthur, Robard, and Renard were here. Even the captain of the garrison, old Han, was here as well.

"My lord," his aides said in unison as they bowed.

Gerald nodded.

Yanna and Harrid stood to the side, as far from everyone's eyes as possible.

"Robard," Gerald said.

"The men are ready, my lord," the head knight said. "The bandits should be arriving at the fortress by now."

Gerald noticed the lost look on Renard's face. The minister didn't know about his recent plans, but Gerald had brought him here for other reasons. Considering Edgar's plight, Renard was Grina's only important ally right now, and Gerald wasn't planning to let her have any help.

"Very well," Gerald told Robard. "We will ride out soon." Then he looked at his minister of the left. "Renard, I have an important matter for you to handle."

Renard still had his puzzled look but he nodded. "What is it, my lord?"

"The iron mine in the southeast hasn't been doing well lately," Gerald said. Finding an excuse to send Renard away wasn't very difficult. "I want you to oversee the work there for a few days. I suspect that some people have been dawdling there instead of working."

Renard's face changed. It seemed that the Duke's man had realized that he was being ousted from Ard for the next few days. "My lord, the workers in the mine are all criminals and bandits."

"Worry not," Gerald smiled, glancing at old Han. "I will arrange for some men from the garrison to escort you to the mine and keep you safe while you're there." Old Han nodded in understanding as Gerald's gaze fell on him. "You only have to make sure the overseers there are doing their work properly," Gerald continued.

Renard stared at Gerald reluctantly. "But, my lord—"

"What is it?" Gerald stared back at him. "Do you have a problem with my commands?"

"No, my lord," Renard said, his voice pressed. Gerald was almost certain that the minister's teeth were gritted in his closed mouth. "I will do as you command."

"Then go and prepare yourself," Gerald said. "You'll be moving right away."

Renard nodded and left the Lord's Hall.

"Old Han," Gerald said.

"My lord," old Han saluted.

"I want you to choose some of your most loyal and silent men to apprehend Grina and keep her in her residence until I return from today's battle."

Old Han who always looked expressionless finally had a change to his face. He looked hesitant. "Is there a reason, my lord?"

"Oh, do you need a reason?" Gerald cocked his head.

"No, my lord," old Han shook his head. "Not me. The people will ask questions. Even some of the members of the garrison will ask questions."

Gerald nodded with a faint smile. He didn't blame old Han for the influence Grina had in the garrison. The old man couldn't stop members of his family or those loyal to them from joining the garrison. "You don't have to worry about any of that," Gerald said. "Grina has delivered herself to us. As long as you choose men who'll keep their mouths shut, no one will know a thing. Grina is no longer in her manor. She's in an old inn near the north gate. No one will know who you're keeping in there if your men don't speak, specially if it's just for a single morning."

Old Han's face looked a little better as Gerald explained. "Yes, my lord. I will do as you command. No one will hear a thing."

"Good. I also want you to see if she has any letters in her possession," Gerald said. "If she does have any, seize them."

"Yes, my lord."

"There is not much time left," Gerald said, standing up. "This assembly will be coming to an end." He glanced at Robard. "We should be riding out now."

"Indeed, my lord," Robard said.

..

.

Gerald rode through the streets of Ard. The gravel had been set, and he could see no puddles or mud in the streets anymore. There were hardly any people in the streets save for a few beggars and early workers. He passed by a few of the latter who recognized him and bowed. Gerald nodded to them and urged his horse towards the east gate.

Out of Ard, a regiment of soldiers was waiting for him.

He would lead them towards the forest in the east and they would stay there until the bandits return. With Gasper's help, he would wipe the northern bandits out, while Robard would be ambushing the western bandits in the hilly area of the west.

The bandits would cease to exist today, and so would the Red Rain band. And Grina would lose her freedom forever. Most of his enemies within the territory would be no more. Only Renard, the Duke's rat, would remain. But he wasn't as much an enemy within as he was a mouthpiece for the enemy without.

Chapter 50

Chapter 50

Gasper stared at the walls of the mercenaries' fortress. Above the wall, he could see a number of sellswords manning the parapets. Their inferior numbers were apparent event from where he was standing. They didn't have enough men to man the walls properly, considering that the enemy commander would want to have some men in reserve in case one of the walls weakened before the others.

The bandit crews, including his, had spread out and surrounded the fortress. Each chief would command the attack on one of the four walls. Gasper was staring at the southern wall, the one he would attack. Most of his crew was by his side, but about 700 of his men were sent to support Lucas and Viper who had the least men. That left him with almost 1500 men. Master Rudolf had accompanied the group of men supporting Viper. Gasper had agreed with the old man that it would be more likely for one of them to reach Edgar before everyone else if each one of them attacked a different wall.

Master Rudolf would be attacking the northern wall which had the gate. Gasper would be attacking the opposite wall, and they would hopefully meet at Edgar's residence within the fortress.

Gasper ran his eyes over his men. 1500 men were spread out in a loose and chaotic form that had nothing to do with formations. He didn't want the desperate refugees to die in battle, but they had accepted food and silver for a cost. And that cost included the risk of death that came at every turn. Some of them would die today, hopefully not many since the enemies were vastly outnumbered.

Gasper heard the weak sound of a war horn. Viper had brought the horn, and it was the signal for everyone to attack. He raised his hand and signaled for his men to begin.

The first group of his subordinates advanced, holding badly crafted wooden shields. They were followed by carriers of the ladders that would be used to climb.

As the shield bearers advanced, they raised their shields, awaiting the volley of the enemy. The archers on the walls weren't many. Gasper saw the bows on the wall pulled and loosed, then a sparse number of arrows descended upon his men.

The shield bearers easily endured the descent of the arrows and kept advancing, followed by the men carrying the ladders.

Another volley soon descended upon them, only to be as easily shrugged off as the one before it. Gasper's shield bearers seemed to have taken heart from their second success and they quickened their pace. The ladder carriers followed with a similarly hastened pace.

Gasper glanced at the rest of his men then raised his hand. "We'll follow," he shouted. Then he advanced forward with a steady pace that wasn't much slower than the advanced shield bearers. There was some distance between them, and it would give the ladder carriers enough time to set their ladders when they reach the walls.

He moved forward, his men advancing by his side. He was handed a shield that fared much better than the ragged shields of his men. And he held it above his head with his good arm. No arrows fell upon him though.

He saw two more volleys fall on his shield bearers and ladder carriers before they reached the walls. The volleys felled some of his men, but the damage wasn't enough to affect their assault in any way.

The ladders were soon set in place. The defenders tried to push them off, but Gasper and his men arrived just then.

He glanced over his men's faces and saw trepidation clearly painted on most of their pale countenances. An instinctive fear had awoken within them. The same instinctive fear that awoke within all soldiers during their first real battle. Perhaps the only thing encouraging his men to climb instead of running now was the enemy's weakness and Erick's incessant yells for them to climb the damn ladders.

Gasper stuck to the wall as his men crowded the ladders and began climbing. Erick soon appeared by his side awaiting any commands. But Gasper had none. He would just throw his men at the defenders who would break sooner than later. "Just let me know when we have a foothold up there," Gasper said. He was waiting for an opportunity to climb. But if he climbed now, while his men were still fighting for even ground, then he would be inviting death upon himself.

He soon began hearing screams of agony from above. He peered from behind his shield and looked at the ladders. He saw two men falling off the nearest ladder and hitting the ground with thud thud sounds. The two men lay there, motionless, beside three other corpses.

He glanced above again and saw his men struggling against the defenders. He persuaded himself to simply wait. There was nothing to do but be patient now. He had no experience with sieges, and he had no equipment other than the ladders.

After some time of fighting, which resulted in a puddle of corpses adorning the surroundings of each ladder, Gasper finally heard Erick's voice again.

"We've got a foothold, chief," Erick yelled and pointed at one of the closer ladders. "There."

Gasper nodded. "I'll go up there. You stay here and keep the men climbing, and I will command the ones above.

"Yes, chief."

Gasper ran with the shield towards the ladder. When he reached it, he abandoned the shield and slipped through the men crowding the ladder. Then he began climbing up as fast as he could. His left arm wasn't good enough to fight with, but it could help him climb. He swiftly made it to the top of the wall where some of his men had gained a foothold.

There were four of his men when he arrived, and the only reason they could hold onto this foothold was that there was only a single enemy trying to fight them off. They hadn't advanced though, even with the sparse number of defenders. The men were hesitating. He spotted some reinforcements climbing one of the fortress's stairs. It seemed that the enemy's commander was trying to keep the wall his.

He drew his sword and yelled, "follow me!"

He moved towards the defender one of his men was fighting and delivered a kick. The defender staggered only to get a stab to the gut.

Gasper moved towards another one of the ladders to help his men gain another foothold. There were three defenders there still standing and keeping his men from stepping onto the wall.

Gasper was followed by his men as he faced the three defenders. Only three men from each side could fight at the same time, and there would always be a risk of falling off the wall.

One of the defenders moved to meet him, while another moved to meet one of his men. The third defender stayed and tried to keep his climbing men from gaining a foothold on the wall.

Gasper slashed at the defender facing him, and the latter easily blocked the strike. The defender noticed his wounded arm and grinned. He feinted a thrust at Gasper's gut then twirled his sword in an attempt hit the wounded arm.

Gasper barely avoided the strike aimed at his arm and tried to strike back. Behind his opponent, he saw the defender blocking the ladder being stabbed by a spear then being trampled by his men. He smiled and rained a flurry of attacks upon his opponent who blocked his strikes with difficulty.

Soon, the men that had just climbed up attacked the two remaining defenders from behind which ended the fight swiftly.

Gasper glanced at the stairs, and he saw that the reinforcements had climbed up already. He'd only gained two footholds along the wall so far, but they were enough to create a crowd of his men up here by now.

One more push would bring him into the grounds of the fortress.

Chapter 51

Chapter 51

"Push them back down!" Gasper yelled as he kicked one of the defenders that had just ascended the stairs to the top of the wall. His men were by his side, attempting to prevent the defenders' reinforcements from gaining ground on the wall.

There were several dozen defenders packed on the inner stairs and below the wall, waiting to climb to the top of the wall and reinforce the weakening sellswords above. Some of them were already on top of the wall, but they had a hard time making room for their climbing comrades because they were held in place by Gasper's men.

He'd just gained his fourth foothold on the wall. And the defenders were getting weaker every moment. Soon, all his ladders would be pouring men on top of the walls and there would be no stopping him.

During combat, Gasper adopted a habit of delivering unexpected thrusts at unexpected times towards random defenders. His quick thrusts had reaped the lives of three defenders so far, and his men had killed many others meanwhile.

He sniffed. "Something is burning." The smell was coming from one of the other walls. He spotted some smoke in the air above the eastern wall where Viper was attacking. It wasn't long before the burning smell turned into the odour of melting flesh, and he finally had an idea of what was happening.

He ignored the smell and focused on combat. If he could push his way through these reinforcements, then he would be the first to step inside the fortress. That would likely make him the first to reach Edgar's living quarters as well, which was what the Viscount needed him to do.

His men were spreading around the wall, flanking any defenders that were still hindering his ladder climbers. It didn't take long for the wall to fall into his hands, but the defenders on the stairs were still holding their ground, though no longer trying to climb onto the wall.

Gasper signaled for a few of his men who were bearing shields. "Take the lead." There were several dozen defenders prepared to stop him on the narrow stairs and below. Killing three or four of them wouldn't help him descend into the fortress. He had to push them down.

The shield bearers came to the front of combat and took the lead. They entangled themselves with the defenders and locked the combat into a balance of strength.

"Push behind them," Gasper shouted.

His men complied and fell behind the shield bearers that were pushing against the defenders on the stairs. He joined his men's ranks and began pushing along with all his strength.

The defenders on the ground below were trying to support the ones faltering on the stairs, but they failed to stop Gasper's men from going down step by step.

Steadily, Gasper and his men began to climb down the stairs. The stairs were hardly wide enough for two men to climb down side by side, but if there was combat, it was likely that one of them would fall off. Fortunately, the front line of his men were the shield bearers that didn't have to do much in the way of combat at the moment. They just had to push and endure any attempted strikes from the enemy.

A few arrows flew from below and struck at his men. It was fortunate that he had a man between him and the arrows flying up, because that man received two arrows, one of them to the ribs. Several of his men fell down. But others soon replaced them. There were too many for the enemy to kill. But the arrows did slow his men's descent.

"Be careful of the arrows," Gasper yelled. "Those who have shields would do well to fucking use them."

After the first two waves of arrows, his men adapted and began to keep an eye on the archers and take cover behind their shields if they had any.

The descent continued, and soon the first few of his men stepped on the ground. The defenders quickly surrounded the first arrivers of his men and cut them down faster than they could be replaced. But the push didn't stop. His men kept pushing down, and soon more of them were down on the ground.

The defenders surrounded them, but the ones that fell from Gasper's men were quickly replaced by others. In a few moments, Gasper found himself stepping onto the ground as well, surrounded by his men who were surrounded by enemies.

The man in front of him fell to an enemy's blow and he found himself facing one of the defenders. He stepped forward and took the place of the fallen subordinate.

His opponent took no respite and stepped in for a slash. Gasper blocked, and his eyes narrowed as the swords clanged against each other. His opponent was a Warrior.

Gasper noticed a bandage extending from the man's neck and towards his shoulder under the armor. At least they were both wounded. He stepped forward for a thrust, and his opponent parried it with a step back.

Gasper followed by a slash which the enemy Warrior blocked and returned twofold. Gasper blocked the first slash and parried the second one softly, following by a riposte towards the uninjured shoulder of his opponent. The latter barely evaded with a clumsy sidestep, losing him his balance. Gasper stepped in for a decisive strike, but another defender appeared beside him just at that moment. The defender struck at him fiercely.

Gasper tried to evade, but the new enemy was too close. He got his sword in the way, but the tip of the enemy's sword cut into his armor. Fortunately, it didn't break his skin. His sword and armor worked well together to strip all strength from the strike.

The Warrior that had lost his balance regained it and tried to make use of the opportunity to flank Gasper from the other side.

Gasper leapt back and created some distance between him and the two enemies. He fell back into the ranks of his men. He'd slightly stepped out of the ranks while fighting the enemy Warrior which had given the other enemy a chance to flank him.

His men kept pouring down the stairs, but their spread on the ground was limited by the enemies' encirclement. What the climbing defenders had faced on top of the wall, he was now facing below it.

But the numbers of the defenders were very limited. The encirclement would be broken sooner or later. Gasper preferred sooner though.

He stepped forward again and bait the second enemy into attempting a slash at him. He stopped and the slash whirred an inch in front of him. The failed slash gave him a moment for an attack. He extended both his foot and shoulder towards the enemy, delivering a quick thrust. The tip of his sword struck the shoulder of the enemy swiftly, drawing blood but not incapacitating the defender.

He stepped back into the ranks of the his men again. The wounded enemy followed him and tried to strike at him with an underhand slash. Gasper absorbed it with his sword, and one of his men who were by his side stepped forward, slashing his opponent's neck.

The Warrior that Gasper had been fighting before stepped in and killed the attacker that had just killed Gasper's opponent.

Gasper stepped forward to face the Warrior again. He'd almost killed the enemy Warrior a few moments ago. He didn't mind trying again.

The Warrior began by a swift thrust, which Gasper parried. Gasper's opponent tried another strike, slashing from the side, but Gasper easily blocked it. He answered the slash with two strikes which his opponent blocked as well.

The enemy Warrior appeared impatient and stepped forward with a weighty overhand strike. Gasper took a half a step back and parried the strike as softly as he could, rendering it harmless. He answered it with two thrusts, one to the Warrior's shoulder and the other towards his gut.

The Warrior bent to the side and avoided the first thrust, then hopped back and avoided the second. He then tried to swing his sword for another strike, but Gasper's thrusts weren't all he was going to receive. Gasper followed the thrusts with a kick that barely did anything aside from surprising the Warrior. But the surprise gave Gasper enough time to retract his sword and go for a serious stab.

Gasper's opponent saw the stab coming and stepped back at the same moment, attempting to push it aside with his sword. The Warrior's sword hit Gasper's but it wasn't strong enough to completely divert it away. It simply changed the stab's target from the chest to the shoulder. Gasper's sword sank into his opponent's flesh, severely wounding his shoulder.

The Warrior tried to use the momentary pause to deliver a strike of his own, but Gasper leapt to the side with his sword, and his opponent's strike missed.

Gasper didn't give the enemy Warrior time to attempt another strike. He swung his sword and bent down for a low slash.

The Warrior put his sword in the slash's way just in time to block it. Gasper's sword bounced back, and he used the strength of the bounce to circle his blade around for another slash, which pressed his opponent into barely blocking again.

Gasper followed with a thrust that his opponent parried while sidestepping. Then he added two quick slashes which the enemy Warrior blocked with obvious weakness. Gasper pressed forward and swung his sword with all his weight, delivering a slash that pushed his opponent's sword away, rendering his body open for a stab. Gasper didn't miss the chance. He stabbed his sword into his opponent's heart, right through the leather armor.

The Warrior fell to the ground, dead. And Gasper leapt back into the ranks of his men.

He glanced around. The inexperience of his crew was apparent. For each defender that fell, at least two of Gasper's men had to pay their lives. But as more defenders fell, his men were given wider berth. More men poured down from the stairs, and the encirclement was reaching its limit.

"Charge!" Gasper roared and paced forward, and his men exploded with similar pace, attempting to break the encirclement.

The defenders didn't withstand the push for long. They held on for a few moments before the encirclement collapsed. Most of the few remaining defenders in the encirclement fled in different directions when they realized that there was no chance of holding the attackers back.

Gasper took some respite and gazed at the opposite wall where Lucas's men were attacking. The walls was already taken by the former knight's men, which meant that his men were already pouring into the grounds of the fortress just like Gasper's.

Gasper frowned and urged his men forward. He abandoned all thought of an organized advance and commanded his men to charge.

He joined the chaotic charge that flooded the cramped camp of tents and cabins. His men seeped through the camp and landed in combat with the few defenders that were left.

Gasper avoided combat and tried to move deeper into the camp. There was not much resistance left on this side, and he successfully avoided any unneeded combat. At most, he would support his men who were fighting here or there without getting himself committed to any bout of combat.

Soon, he saw a larger house amid the tents and cabins. There, he spied two men fighting. One of them wore a copper mask that Gasper would never mistake for another.

Master Rudolf was fighting against a handsome man who wore a shiny breastplate. Gasper assumed that the man was Edgar, the mercenaries' captain. He watched for a moment and realized that the old steward was having the worst of the fight. In fair combat, Edgar had the upper hand and was pushing the old man back.

Master Rudolf was barely stopping his opponent's strikes and contributing too little to the fight. Gasper paced towards the two who were surrounded by emptiness. He spied no one else around but the two combatants.

As soon as he drew close, the two of them noticed him. Master Rudolf gave him a glance, while Edgar stared at him with eyes like daggers.

"Who are you?" Edgar mouthed as he hopped back and away from Master Rudolf, giving himself some room.

Gasper eyed the mercenary captain and prepared his sword. "Gasper," he said. "You'll certainly die today. If you don't make it too difficult for us, we will give your corpse a decent burial."

Edgar snorted. "So it's you. I couldn't believe that Isaac failed when he didn't return, but it seems that I hadn't prepared for the unexpected." He glanced at Master Rudolf as if knowing that he was the one who'd saved Gasper. Then his eyes fell on Gasper again. "You're holding your sword with one hand, and your other arm is stuck to your side like the wing of a chicken. I'd wager you have lost the use of that arm." He pointed at Gasper's left arm. "Why don't you two just step back and let me go. I will appreciate it and point you towards the gold in this camp. You have rivals here after all." He gestured towards the walls. "I'm certain you want a bigger share of the gold. If you can find it first and before anyone else sees it, then you don't have to split it with the others."

Gasper didn't reply. He stepped forward and attempted a high thrust.

The mercenary parried, but from his flank came another strike. A slash that was fast enough to force him into stepping back. The tip of Master Rudolf's sword scratched Edgar's breastplate and slid off.

Gasper pressed on with a low slash. The mercenary captain blocked it easily, but he was still struggling to regain his full balance.

Master Rudolf didn't slow down. He approached Edgar and stabbed at his neck swiftly.

The mercenary side stepped the attempted stab nimbly. He tried to swing his sword for a retaliatory slash, but Gasper stepped in for a fierce slash of his own, forcing the mercenary to leap back and evade.

Edgar's balance was all but gone with the last leap. Master Rudolf took a wide step forward and extended his shoulder for a stinging thrust. Edgar barely parried it, only to receive a fast slash from his flank, Gasper's slash.

Gasper's sword didn't find Edgar's neck like he'd wished, but the mercenary captain failed to avoid it completely. The sword cut into his cheek and ear, drawing a line of blood on the handsome face.

Edgar gritted his teeth visibly and retaliated with a quick thrust towards Gasper's chest.

Gasper leapt back, avoiding it by a mere inch, while Master Rudolf stepped in for a heavy slash towards Edgar's side.

The mercenary failed to evade and the slash cut into his left arm's flesh. He leapt back, creating some distance from the two of them. But Gasper stepped forward to shrink the distance, and so did Master Rudolf.

Edgar's face was twisted into a furious expression as his cheek and ear wounds cascaded blood all the way down to his neck.

Gasper stepped to the side and Master Rudolf flanked the mercenary from the other side. Edgar's face slowly relaxed, as if he'd just surrendered to his fate. The mercenary captain decided to take the biggest of the two birds with him. He leapt towards Master Rudolf with his sword prepared for a reckless strike.

Master Rudolf noticed the danger instantly and leapt to the side, only to be followed by Edgar. The mercenary's sword rose forth for a mighty descending strike, while the old steward's sword braced for the arriving blade.

Master Rudolf blocked Edgar's overhand strike with great effort, and the latter's sword stopped only two inches from the old steward's face.

Gasper had already paced towards the mercenary captain's back. He raised his sword for a high thrust that whirred through the air and pierced into the back of Edgar's neck, finding its way down towards his heart.

Most of Gasper's blade sank into the body of the mercenary captain. Master Rudolf sighed in relief as Edgar's swordhand softened and relaxed. Gasper slowly pulled his sword up and out of Edgar's neck, watching the blade drenched in blood slowly sliding out of the wound.

Gasper looked at Master Rudolf as Edgar slumped to the ground, dead.

The old steward didn't wait. "Take his head. Lucas's men are almost here. I'll go to Edgar's house to look for anything that can be useful to the Viscount. If any of the chiefs arrive, slow them down until I come out."

Gasper nodded and watched the masked old man hurrying towards the house. After he saw him enter, he stared down at the body of the dead mercenary captain. "You're quite unfortunate, choosing the wrong side." He paused for a moment. Gasper was on the Viscount's side. He was doing his lord's his bidding. But what would come after? he wondered. "I hope our choices do matter in the end."

Chapter 52

Chapter 52

As Gasper knelt and placed Edgar's head in a small sack that he'd pulled out of his belt, he felt a twist of pain in his stomach. The muscles twitched for a moment, then the pain began spreading to his chest then his limbs. The familiar pain was all over his body by the time he got to his feet. The last memory of this familiar feeling was less painful. He knew that each step forward meant more pain. This was his body telling him that he was ready. He was ready to become a Sky Warrior.

He suppressed the urging feeling in his gut and summoned his patience. Such a feeling was difficult to suppress for long, but he had enough willpower to keep it disciplined for half a day. It felt like a thin, dilapidated dam was holding back a rush of flooding water and waiting to be breached. He was the water, and the dam was the limit.

But he had to wait. The moment the dam broke was a long time of weakness for any Warrior, after which would come more strength. He'd wait until today's events came to an end before letting the dam break.

After a few moments, he heard curses and yells that indicated combat from the north. It didn't take long for him to spot Lucas's men advancing towards him. The former knight was at the head of his soldiers along with his second-in-command. They spotted Gasper a moment after he'd spotted them and began trotting towards him.

Gasper watched Lucas and his lieutenant draw closer. He tied the sack to his belt and raised his gaze to meet them.

"Gasper," Lucas said as he came to a stop.

"Lucas," Gasper nodded.

Lucas glanced at the headless body on the ground. "Who is he?"

"Edgar," Gasper smiled. "The captain of the sellswords."

"His head?" Lucas glanced at the sack hanging on Gasper's waist.

"I took his life," Gasper patted the sack. "The trophy is mine."

"You going to spike it somewhere near your camp?" Lucas eyed him carefully. "I don't remember you having any previous enmity with the sellsword."

"Do I need a previous enmity with a bear to take its head as a trophy?" Gasper snorted.

Lucas didn't answer. A moment passed in silence before Gasper spotted Master Rudolf approaching, but he wasn't coming from the direction of the house. He'd somehow circled around and came from another direction.

Lucas and his lieutenant glanced at the masked old steward as he slowly walked to Gasper's side.

"The others should be reaching here soon as well," Gasper said. He and Lucas might have breached the defense of the mercenaries earlier than the others, but Viper and Harland weren't clawless. They'd easily get past the walls now that the mercenaries were leaderless, if they hadn't breached the defenses earlier already.

Gasper's men also arrived and he had to shout a few loud commands to avoid any unneeded clash between his men and Lucas's in the heat of the charge.

Soon enough, Harland's and Viper's men also arrived. From amidst them emerged the two chiefs.

A silent understanding came upon the four chiefs as they watched each other cautiously. It was time to divide the spoils. The two chiefs that had just arrived didn't even ask about the headless corpse lying around or about the leader of the mercenaries. They just ran their eyes over the camp and any possible places where coin could be stashed.

"I suppose it's time for us to dig up the gold," Viper said.

The three chiefs in front of him, including Gasper, nodded vigorously.

Following the united agreement, a wave of digging and looting pervaded the fortress. Every man began looking for coin. Any significant finds were brought to the middle of the camp to be later divided fairly between the crews. Of course, any less significant finds would disappear in the pouches of the searchers. The chiefs didn't mind it, not that they could do anything about it if they did mind it. It was an unspoken rule among bandits. If you could take it without being seen or caught, then you'd better take it, otherwise you'd be the fool of the tribe.

The search was quicker than expected. It was quite a bit earlier than dusk when every coin in the camp had been found. The mercenaries hadn't buried their coin or put too much effort into hiding it. Most of the gold was found in a single storehouse near Edgar's house. His house itself had a few valuables, but not a single parchment on the obviously ink-stained table. But would bandits care about parchments?

Gasper didn't miss Lucas's dubious glance at the table when they went through the house though.

"14 thousand gold coins," Viper said as he stood with Gasper and the other two chiefs around a mountain of valuables, weapons in good shape, and chests of gold. They were standing in the middle of the camp with their men spread around the area, far enough from them to not hear and see everything happening here but close enough to act if needed.

"That's 3500 for each crew," Harland smirked. Edith had sent her men for reassurance, but her absence meant that her crew couldn't share the hard-earned wealth they had plundered. Her men had even followed Harland's from the rear during the assault, avoiding most of the fighting. Any attempts to barter a share for his sister now would only gain Harland the other chiefs' hostility. "It was worth our time indeed."

"But we don't have much time left," Viper said anxiously. "The Viscount should be alert to what we've done by now. We must move soon."

"Indeed," Gasper nodded. "Let's handle the division of the gold with all due haste."

Viper nodded as well. Their tacit agreement was followed by each chief summoning a few of his trusted men to carry the earned wealth. The gold was hurriedly hauled onto some of the wagons that had been pulled into the fortress after the successful assault.

Other valuables and equipment were also split between the chiefs and loaded onto their wagons. It was early before dusk when every crew had assembled near the gate of the fortress in preparation to depart.

Every crew except Lucas's.

The former knight's men were still spread around the fortress, and some of them were apparently taking walks on the walls.

Gasper watched them suspiciously and glanced at Viper. The chiefs and their lieutenants had gathered near the gate for departure. Harland would return to the west on his own, while Gasper, Viper, and Lucas were supposed to ride through the east together.

"Why are your men not assembled, Lucas?" Viper asked after receiving Gasper's questioning glance. "We need to leave right away. There is no time to waste."

"I'm not leaving."

The words fell on them like thunder. No. They fell on Gasper like thunder. It was the second unexpected event today. The first was the absence of Edith, but this was different. Lucas was apparently planning to stay in the fortress. Gasper could see it now. The former knight's men were spread around the fortress as if they were its new inhabitants. Some were checking the tents and cabins, while others patrolled the walls and checked its condition. Gasper had noticed their behavior from before, but he hadn't thought of it the way he did now. He'd just seen it as Lucas being overly cautious.

"What do you mean?" Viper frowned. "We have to leave. All of us."

"All of you," Lucas gestured towards them. "My crew will be staying here. I don't intend to return to my camp."

"What about the rest of your men who you left in the camp?" Viper asked.

"You don't need to worry too much," Lucas snorted. "If you want my territory, it's yours."

Viper actually looked enticed for a moment. Gasper could see the glimmer in his eyes. But he couldn't let this happen. It would ruin everything. If Lucas stayed, it would be two loose ends instead of one. And one of the loose ends would be rooted in a fortress and capable of mounting a considerable defense.

Lucas's men hadn't suffered as many losses as everyone else. Gasper had lost more than a hundred men if not two hundred, and the other two chiefs hadn't fared much better. But lucas had hardly lost two dozen men and less than 50 others of his men were wounded. His crew was actually intact. Prying Lucas out of the fortress would be another Luwin-battle for the Viscount.

"You can't stay here," Gasper said, his tone unconsciously hostile. He didn't notice it until the words were out. Even Master Rudolf glanced at him as if reminding him to not lose his bearing.

"Why can't I, I wonder?" Lucas cocked his head with a smirk as he eyed him.

Gasper gulped. "We'll be easy pickings for the Viscount if we're spread out." The words just came out as soon as the thoughts did. He was actually surprised that he said something so reasonable when he was actually struggling to make up the words. "We can't fulfill the pact if each one of us is in a different corner of the basin."

Lucas looked at him thoughtfully while Viper nodded on the side.

The former knight eventually shook his head with a smile that Gasper could swear was a gloating one. "My crew isn't leaving. I don't care about pacts or anything else as long as I can have this fortress."

"Will you break the pact then?" Gasper asked.

"I don't intend to," Lucas said. "But you make it seem like I won't be able to come to your aid if I stay here. Whether I can aid you or not won't change my decision though. I'm staying in this fortress."

"We didn't agree on this," Gasper clawed at any possible reason to argue with. "We didn't decide who would have the fortress. If it's going to belong to us, then it shouldn't just be yours. You can't take what is not yours alone."

"Oh?" Lucas raised his brows, apparently amused. "Will you stay here with me then?" He ran his eyes over Gasper and the two other chiefs.

Harland was visibly reluctant in front of the idea, while Viper slowly shook his head. Lucas's gaze fell on Gasper at last.

"No," Gasper said. "But—"

"But nothing," Lucas interrupted. "This fortress will be mine whether you agree or not. If you can't accept that, you're welcome to try taking it from me. But you don't seem to have any need for it from what I can see. Which makes me wonder." The former knight stepped closer to Gasper, and Master Rudolf stepped forward, alert. "I just wonder why you, specially you, are so adamant on me leaving." Lucas's eyes spoke the answer as they gazed into Gasper's.

It was a warning. A warning that Gasper understood very well. If he didn't shut up, Lucas would share his doubts with the other two chiefs. The doubts that were clear in his eyes, and were likely being ascertained at this very moment.

Gasper did shut up. He had nothing more to say.

The cloudy sky riled and a faint sound of thunder descended upon them. A few drops of water soon landed on their heads, shortly followed by sudden, intense rain.

"Fucking hell," Harland stretched his hand out, touching the drops of water. He gazed at the sky with a grimace. "Summer rain never bodes well."

Gasper pressed his lips. It wasn't supposed to rain in the summer, not in the subcontinent. Neither was Lucas supposed to be staying here, nor was Edith supposed to be absent. But it was all happening, and it was out of his hands.

Chapter 53

Chapter 53

Gasper was nigh growling as he led his men alongside Viper's towards the north. Each breath that came out had to make some noise as it passed through his throat. His throat that felt as though it was stuffed with nothing but the fires of anger.

He hadn't expected any of the bandits to have the gall to stay in the fortress after the battle. It would be like challenging the Viscount. But Lucas had surprised him. Gasper now knew that the former knight had likely brought all his men from the very beginning. Gasper wasn't the only one who'd brought all of his men and lied about it, it seemed.

He shook his head after receiving a few inquisitive glances from Viper. He wanted to complain that Lucas had hoodwinked them, but he held the words back. Viper was too occupied with the possible gains that could come from Lucas's absence from the north. The chiefs wouldn't have to worry about Lucas anymore, since he'd 'foolishly' pit his crew against the lord of Ard.

Any attempts to force the Viper's thoughts away from the coming gains would likely garner Gasper the bandit's suspicion more than anything else. His behavior so far had already made Viper thoughtful, occasionally eying him with those dubious gazes.

He had expected Harland and Viper to object to Lucas's decision to stay in the fortress. But he'd neglected the possible territory the two chiefs stood to gain from Lucas's decision. Harland and Edith had already been eying Lucas's territory from before, while Viper was closer to the former knight's camp than anyone else.

No one wondered why the tempered knight would choose to stay in the supposed death trap instead of returning to his camp though. The two foolish chiefs never stopped to think for a moment and tell themselves that Lucas was never the dimwit. Why would he choose not to return to his camp?

Because no one would return. Not a single one of you will return to reap those anticipated gains.

The two crews moved separately on the return march just like they had done on the march towards the fortress. Gasper and Viper rode beside each other though. The sun was setting by the time they caught sight of the forest.

Gasper breathed in deeply as he glanced at the forest then his eyes landed on Viper.

The latter noticed the eyes trained on him and met Gasper's eyes. The bandit chief wasn't smiling but his face carried visible delight from today's events. As his eyes read Gasper's gaze, his joyous face turned into an anxious one, then an understanding one.

"I didn't want to believe that I would be receiving that gaze someday," Viper said, chuckling with the voice of a man submitted to his fate. "I was always the one throwing it at others during their last moments."

Gasper was taken aback. Viper had read his gaze in the brief moment their eyes had met. Perhaps it was the bandit's instinct. A man who'd lived on the edge of death for so long was likely to have gained a sense for his surroundings. Or perhaps Viper was just that good at reading people when it came to betrayal. Gasper gulped, his mouth sealed because he had no words to utter.

"Surprised, are you?" Viper said, shaking his head with a wry smile. "Well, it won't matter, will it? Even if I have found out now, my fate is still sealed, is it not?"

Gasper got a hold of himself and his gaze hardened. "It is indeed," he said. He didn't want the bandit chief to have any hope. More hopelessness meant less struggling. Gasper decided to test the waters though. "You don't intend to fight? Won't you try to kill me at least?"

Viper chuckled again. "I doubt I can kill you." He glanced at Master Rudolf who was riding farther behind. "I'm not the best swordsman. Even if I best you, I doubt I will have the time to kill you before your hound is upon my throat."

Gasper glanced back at Master Rudolf. The latter seemed to have noticed that something was amiss and was trying to get his horse closer to the two chiefs.

"You have at least twice the men," Viper continued. "And I doubt you've left anything to chance. I know a good carving when I see one. Do me one last favour though." He turned and looked at the forest. "Tell me who's hiding amidst those woods."

Gasper hesitated for a moment but realized that Viper would find soon anyway. There was no need to hide it anymore. He still felt odd as he said the words though. "The Viscount."

"Ah," Viper raised his brows with an affirming nod. "Not very unexpected. That damn old knight outsmarted us, after all. I'd wager he knew and didn't even spare us a word of the matter."

"I believe so too," Gasper nodded, awaiting any sudden moves from the bandit chief. However, the latter did nothing that alerted him. He didn't reach for his sword, neither did he turn around and scream a command at his men. Viper simply wore a serene smile.

Gasper had a hard time understanding the smile on Viper's face. Why was the bandit chief so submitted to his fate? The smile on Viper's face would sometimes turn from serene to sardonic and almost gloating, as if the bandit chief was reminding himself of something.

Gasper knew that Viper had grasped his place through betrayal in the first place. The bandit had no right to complain about today's treatment, and complain he did not. Perhaps he was resigned knowing that he would have to taste what he had cooked many times before.

ß---------------------------------------------------à

Gerald was among his men in the forest, awaiting the arrival of Gasper and the two northern crews. Robard was likely lying in ambush just like him right now but in the west.

Gerald kept his eyes trained on the southern horizon. And soon he was rewarded for it. He saw an army of stragglers moving north. It didn't take long for him to get a clearer sight of them. He saw two crews marching together but unmerged. Ahead of them, two men were leading.

Gerald easily recognized Gasper who wore dark leather armor. Beside him rode another man who Gerald assumed was one of the chiefs. But something was odd. There was only that single crew marching beside Gasper's men, and only a single chief riding beside him. Where was the other one?

As they came closer to the forest, the two crews came to an abrupt stop. Gerald spied Gasper and the bandit chief talking. He assumed they were speaking because they seemed to be looking at each other with their horses halted.

Gerald didn't delay. He turned to one of the Warriors of the elite corps beside him. "Tell the men to ready themselves. We'll charge soon."

The Warrior nodded and word was soon passed among the soldiers hiding in the woods.

Gerald gave his men a few moments to prepare themselves for the charge. They weren't in an open field where a command could easily be heard and passed around. If he charged suddenly, he could find himself running out of the forest with the lesser half of his men.

After some time passed and the two crews didn't move, Gerald shouted the command. "Charge!"

He mounted his horse and watched as his men flooded out of the forest towards the bandits. The cavalry were the first to rush out, charging in a wedge formation towards the smaller crew of the two. His men knew who they would attack and who would help them during the battle.

The infantry followed. Then came Gerald and the elite corps, mounted. He glanced back at the Warriors and said, "We will wait until the first clash. The bandits will be panicked. But there might be some resistance from the more composed enemies. We will handle such nuisances."

The Warriors nodded, and Gerald moved his anxious eyes to the enemies again. He wanted to focus on the battle for now, but he couldn't help but wonder what had happened. Had one of the crews collapsed during their assault on Edgar? That wasn't something he could believe. Edgar had capable veterans under his command, but his disadvantage was too glaring to be ignored. His numbers had shrunk too much, and many of his men have been wounded. It was nearly impossible for a mercenary band weakened to such an extent to wipe out one of the crews during the defense.

He watched as his cavalry crashed into the panicked bandits. Gasper's men struck when they were least expected. They came from behind the smaller crew that was facing the obvious, louder threat.

A massacre ensued. Gerald had expected some form of resistance, but he didn't need to move with the elite corps even once. From beginning to end, the battle was no more than a slaughter. The ambushed crew was grinded between Gerald's regiment and Gasper's crew. Outnumbered and shocked, the bandits either surrendered or attempted to flee. The runners were cut down during their escape by Gerald's men. And considering that most of the ambushed crew chose to flee, there wasn't much of a battle.

Gerald rode towards Gasper who was standing at the head of his crew, watching as his men cleaned the field of battle from any possible living dead. They would stab each fallen bandit in the neck once to ascertain their death. Any that were pretending to be dead would soon regret it.

Gerald soon reached Gasper and Uncle Rudolf who were mounted beside each other.

"My lord," Gasper said.

Uncle Rudolf nodded to Gerald, and he could tell that there was a smile under the mask without seeing it.

Gerald nodded to both Gasper and his old steward. "Is someone missing?" He ran his eyes over the field of corpses.

A troubled expression appeared on Gasper's face. He pressed his lips then said, "The deserters stayed in the fortress, my lord."

"What?" Gerald gaped.

"Their leader, Lucas, insisted on staying in the fortress. I tried to persuade him to abandon the idea, but he seemed to have already suspected something, and I didn't want to alert the other chiefs, my lord."

Gerald gritted his teeth. Then he calmed himself and took a breath, closing his eyes in contemplation. He'd never expected one of the crews to be daring enough to stay in the fortress. They were supposed to be attacking Edgar behind his back and escaping back to their camps before his arrival. To stay in the fortress after defeating Edgar was like inviting him to wipe them out. He hadn't expected one of the crews to blatantly challenge him by simply taking the fortress. It meant that, like Gasper had said, the leader of the deserters had his doubts.

A frown unknowingly painted itself on Gerald's face as he thought. "Just the deserters crew is in the fortress?"

"Yes," Gasper said, wearing an apologetic expression. "What will we do, my lord?"

The sun had set and night descended as they spoke. The ambush had taken place during sunset, and now there was hardly any light in the sky.

Gerald steeled himself. This was the unexpected, again. He had to remind himself one more time that not everyone was a fool, even among bandits. "We will march towards the fortress tonight and surround it. I doubt they would try to ambush us in the open. We'll rest for the night then barter with the deserters in the morning. They will have to surrender. They know they can resist but not survive in that fortress." He turned around and signaled for his men to prepare. He was about to urge his horse to move when he heard the words that promised him more grief.

"Lucas isn't the only chief that hasn't acted as expected, my lord."

Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Lucas stood on the wall of the fortress, watching the sunset. The other chiefs had left not long ago. The young chief, Gasper, had given him some trouble. It wasn't unexpected, considering that he'd suspected him from the very beginning.

If Lucas had to make an assumption, it would be that Gasper was working with the Viscount. Everything he'd done so far had somehow worked in the interest of the Lord of Ard. All of Gasper's actions smelled like a noble's conspiracy to Lucas. And He wasn't a stranger to such a smell.

"The scouts are back," a voice interrupted his thoughts.

He turned around and saw Avir, his young lieutenant. "Is the news good?" He turned around to gaze at the sunset again.

"No," came Avir's voice from behind. "There are a few hundred men from the Viscount's army near the southern pass."

"So we can't flee from the south, after all," Lucas smiled wryly as he watched the faint sun dipping into the horizon.

"Why can't we?" Avir said. "There are only 500 men there at most. The scouts even say that some of them are wounded. We can kill our way through and flee the basin."

"What if they retreat and decide to meet us in the narrowest point of the southern pass? It will be a bitter fight. We might be able to push through eventually, but they would delay us long enough for the Viscount's cavalry to strike us from the rear. It would be enough to devastate us."

"We have to try. We can move through the night and surprise them."

"Oh, you think the Viscount's forces in the south don't know about us? They likely do. And the Viscount is likely handling Viper and the siblings now like I told you."

"So we are just going to stay?"

Lucas sighed. "Even if we do flee the basin, where would we go? Duke Fortis already found us once in Count Westwell's territory. And the Baronies in the south wouldn't let us through their borders without knowing exactly who were are."

"There is another County in the southeast."

Lucas shook his head without turning back. "We'd have to pose as mercenaries again, and the Duke is likely looking for us as mercenaries. He'd find us within a month or two."

A sigh came from behind him, and Lucas heard the next words in the voice of a man who'd left this world. "Always gazing at the dark side of life, Lucas. Always."

He turned around and instead of seeing the man he wished so much to see, he saw a lad who would be going through his seventeenth winter in a few months. The boy had a strong resemblance to the man floating in Lucas's mind.

Lucas smiled. "Frederick, you're here."

"Indeed, I am," the lad grinned. "Things don't seem promising."

"It will pass," Lucas said with some difficulty, as if unbelieving of his own words. "We can negotiate with the new lord. Hopefully, we can leave the basin as a merchant convoy with his consent. We have the fortress. It won't be easy for him to wipe us out. He will want to negotiate."

"Didn't he remove Luwin from this fortress before?" Frederick tilted his head.

Lucas scowled. "It seems that I'm not the only one gazing at the dark side of things."

"Oh, but life isn't that simple. There is no true dark and there is no true light," Frederick said.

"You see, my lad," Lucas chuckled as he shook his head. "Those books make you sound clever. But that's about all they do."

"Don't blame the books, Lucas," Fredrick grinned again. "I'm just a young lad with no experience. Isn't that what you've always told me? The books are the only place from which I can know what I've never seen."

Lucas nodded. "I don't blame the books. Otherwise, I wouldn't have gotten them for you."

Avir cleared his throat, as if to remind the two about the matter at hand. "What do we do when the Viscount arrives?"

"We talk to him," Lucas said. A battle would harm both sides. Of course, it would harm him more than the Viscount, but the latter would likely try to avoid another siege. "The Viscount removed Luwin before, yes. But I'm certain he doesn't want to go through that again."

..

Night fell, and the fortress was lit by torches all around. The men were busy strengthening the fortifications, but otherwise everyone was silent. It was the sort of silence that came from experience. It always came when there was a difficult battle ahead, and none of Lucas's men were ignorant of the circumstances. They had sworn an oath together, and he had promised to never hide that which he knew from them. They had sworn to eat, live, and possibly die together. All for the sake of reaching their aim. They had left the Duchy almost ten years ago, and perhaps it would take ten more for them to return. But they would return. Otherwise, it would all be for nothing.

Lucas received some news during the night. The Viscount's men had surrounded the fortress under the cover of darkness. He wasn't shocked by the news. Whether the Viscount arrived at night or in the morning didn't matter. What mattered was what would happen after. He would have to wait till first light before negotiating with the Lord of Ard.

..

.

Morning soon came, and a torrent of activity came with it. Lucas's men began preparing for a rough defense. Arms were cleaned and oiled. Armors were mended and donned. And walls were manned and crowded.

"How is it?" Lucas asked Avir who was now standing in front of him inside one of the camp's houses.

"It's as you expected," Avir said. "Gasper's men are surrounding the fortress alongside the Viscount's soldiers."

Lucas snorted. "He wanted to fool me. I would have died many times before were I that easy to fool."

There was a knock on the door then Frederick entered. "Are you going to meet with the Viscount?"

Lucas nodded. "I will try. Hopefully, he won't disdain negotiating with bandits."

"I want to come with you."

"Huh?" Lucas eyed the lad carefully. "Why?"

"Do I need a reason?" Frederick shrugged.

Lucas contemplated for a moment. He doubted the Viscount would do something as low as attacking them during a negotiation. Frederick would be safe. And Lucas did want to bring the lad with him. If the negotiation was a success, then he could learn a thing or two from it.

Lucas looked at Avir. "Send a rider to the Viscount."

Soon, a rider was dispatched, and Lucas prepared his horse alongside Avir and Frederick. It didn't take long for the rider to return with the Viscount's agreement. They would meet 500 yards away from the wall.

Lucas led Avir and Frederick out of the fortress. They rode well out of a longbow's range and spied a contingent of riders approaching from afar. He recognized two of them as Gasper and his masked lieutenant. At the lead of the riders, Lucas saw a young man whom he assumed was the Viscount.

The two groups soon met. The Viscount halted his horse, while Gasper and his lieutenant halted right behind him. Farther behind, a few men brought their horses to a stop as well. Lucas believed they were just guards brought to ensure the young noble's safety.

"Lord Tellus," Lucas nodded. Then he glanced at Gasper. The latter stared back at him expressionlessly. Lucas didn't say anything regarding the pretend bandit chief. He was pretending to be a bandit himself, after all. And there was nothing to be said. The Viscount had played his hand right, and he'd earned a banditless territory, or at least he was close to earning it.

"Lucas, yes?" the young Lord said.

"Yes," Lucas nodded. "It's an honor to be in your presence." He flattered the young noble. Hopefully, it would help with the negotiation.

The young Lord raised his hand to stop Lucas. "Let's speak of the more important matters. I don't care much for the thoughts of brigands about meeting me."

Lucas smiled wryly. It wasn't going to be easy. "I hope we can reach an agreement that would allow me and my men to leave your territory unharmed, your lordship." He observed the young lord. The latter had dark brown hair and piercing brown eyes. He was observing Lucas carefully as well. "That would mean your men would not have to shed blood as well, Lord Tellus," Lucas continued.

The young Lord chuckled. "You believe that I would set you free after you've robbed from my family's lands? I don't tolerate bandits, and I certainly don't tolerate treacherous deserters who prey upon my subjects." Lord Tellus's voice sharpened at the last few words.

Lucas didn't let the Viscount's words affect him. He preserved his stoic expression as he spoke again. "A battle on these walls," he gestured towards the fortress behind him, "would be both bloody and costly. Are your men worthless in your eyes?"

"No," Lord Tellus smirked. "I value my men, but I also value my subjects and my house. And you've trampled upon the latter two."

"My men never harmed even one of your subjects," Lucas said solemnly.

The young Lord was visibly surprised by the words. Then he seemed to remember something, and he glanced back at Gasper as if confirming his thoughts. Gasper nodded as Lord Tellus glanced at him.

The young Lord then rested his eyes on Lucas again. "That does not mean that you have not stolen from my house."

"There was no blood. And that matters quite a bit," Lucas said. "Today, there should be no blood either. We will simply leave and compensate your lordship with gold as well."

The Lord snorted with an expression of disdain bordering disgust. "Compensate? You speak as if you've merely done me a disservice. You've been robbing in the territory of my family and undermining the name of my house for years."

Lucas pressed his lips. It seemed that his hopes of leaving without blood were wishful thinking. He would have to make some sacrifices.

The young Lord continued speaking. "What you've done demands retribution. Blood. I doubt you have enough gold to compensate my house for the dishonor you've inflicted. If you surrender, I'll spare some of your men. They'll work in the mines, but they'll live." He glanced at the two behind Lucas then his eyes landed on him.

Lucas frowned. He looked back at Avir with a resigned face. Then he turned back to the Viscount. "If you need retribution, then take me."

The Viscount froze for a moment at Lucas's words.

"Take me, but me alone," Lucas continued. "Spare my men. Let them leave." He trusted Avir to continue their journey. Many brothers had died since they'd left the Duchy. He wasn't any better than them. Loyal men had paid their lives so that they could continue their journey. Perhaps it was time for him to pay a similar tribute. "I'm the chief that has robbed your lands. My head on a spike should be enough to uphold your reputation."

"Lucas," a hiss came from behind.

Lucas gazed back at Frederick who looked both indignant and sorrowful. He smiled at the lad. There was always a farewell. That was something he'd learned long ago. Perhaps Frederick would learn something today, after all.

The young Lord seemed to be thinking for a moment then he shook his head. "That won't do. You don't get to decide. You're a trapped rat now, and so are your men. Surrender."

The furious but suppressed voice of Avir came from behind. "Your men will bleed on those walls." Lucas's lieutenant glared at the young Lord. "For every one of our men that falls, two of yours will fall. We will fight better than any bandits you've ever battled. If we fall, then your men will pay for it with blood, a lot of blood."

"A necessary sacrifice," came the unhesitant reply from the young Lord.

Lucas's eyes rested on the ground. His countenance lost all hope. The day demanded more sacrifice. More of your men will have to die, my lord. I hope you're watching us at least. By the gods, I hope you are.

He steeled his heart and spoke, almost pleading. "Half. Half of my men and I will surrender. You can have our heads, but let the rest leave." As long as Avir could lead the remnants of his men and leave with Frederick safe and sound, then he would have fulfilled his duty.

The young Lord pierced Lucas with his gaze, and a sneer drew itself on his face. He looked like a man ready to wager. Lucas felt like the young man was reveling in his misery. "No," came the reply from the young Lord.

Lucas dropped his head and closed his eyes. He slowly dismounted the horse under the puzzled gazes from those around him, including the Lord. "A hundred. Just a hundred," Lucas said, bowing deeply. "Only a hundred of my men need to leave." As long as Frederick could leave safely, then the men wouldn't hesitate to put their necks under the Viscount's blade.

"Lucas!" Frederick yelled. "No . . . No. No more of you can die. It's enough."

Lucas turned to Frederick, wishing he could hush him. "Speak no more, Frederick. Speak no more."

Frederick dismounted and ran to him. He pulled Lucas by the shoulders from his bowing and straightened him up. "This is enough, Lucas."

"Don't," Avir yelled, hoping to stop Frederick from uncovering that which nobody could know but them.

"How many more of you have to die for me?" Frederick yelled back at Avir.

Lucas patted the lad's wrist. "We must do this."

"No, you don't. Many have died already. More than half of the men have fallen for me. How many more lives must be paid? The families of the men wait for them in Maleh, only to receive letters of their death. They've received nothing but those letters." Frederick turned to the young Lord who was watching in amusement. "Take me."

"You?" Lord Tellus raised a brow. "And who might you be?"

Lucas tried to grip Frederick's shoulder, but the latter had anticipated it before he'd even spoke. Lucas's hand grabbed nothing but air as Frederick stepped back and spoke.

"I'm a treasure. Deliver me to Duke Fortis in the Warring Duchies and you will have more gold than you can count. Enough gold to forgive any offense these men have done you."

Lucas gritted his teeth. "No." He glanced back at the Viscount. "You can't have him." Then he turned to Frederick. "Don't, Frederick. It would have all been for nothing. I swore an oath. The men swore an oath. They are only fulfilling it."

"They swore that oath because of their loyalty to my father," Frederick said with an apologetic smile. "They loved my father because he would do anything to preserve their lives and care for their families. You always told me that I would be a great Lord like him. If I were to let you all die for me today, how would I be like him, Lucas?"

The silent Viscount spoke before Lucas could retort. "I wonder why this Duke Fortis would spare so much gold in exchange for you? How do you relate to him?"

"I'm his nephew," came Frederick's reply that ended any hopes Lucas had of sending him away.

Chapter 55

Chapter 55

Gerald stared at the boy who stood behind Lucas. "His nephew?" It seemed that he'd stumbled upon something interesting. If his thoughts turned out to be true, then he'd just come across a walking treasure. Simply sending this Frederick to his uncle could earn one both gold and favor from a powerful noble in the Warring Duchies.

The Warring Duchies were quite far though. The Maric Kingdom was in the southwestern subcontinent of the Asura continent, while the Warring Duchies were in the westernmost part of the Asura continent. The Andross Empire took up the northern part of the southwestern subcontinent, and it was separated from the Warring Duchies by the Wild Plains in the northeast.

That part of the continent had earned its name. Gerald had read about the history of the Asura continent, and the Warring Duchies were quite an interesting subject. A considerable Empire had risen in the west of the continent hundreds of years ago. That Empire hadn't been very stable, or so the book had said. Eventually, it had collapsed and disintegrated into many Duchies. All the weaker nobles had been swallowed or subjugated by these Duchies. Some said that the Babylon Empire had a hand in the collapse of the western Empire. But there was no certainty to the claim.

Now the Duchies warred for more territory, each of the Dukes wishing to establish their own Kingdom. Supporting some of these Dukes was the Babylon Empire, while others were influenced by the United Archipelago which used the Warring Duchies as a foothold and an area of influence in the continent. A war of both religion and influence was now raging in that part of the continent for years unending. Eventually, the west of the continent was simply called the Warring Duchies by mapmakers.

Gerald kept his gaze fixed on Frederick, awaiting an answer to his question. The boy didn't seem reluctant, but Lucas near him was grimacing.

"Yes," Frederick said with a straight, decisive face. "I'm the rightful heir to the Fortis Duchy. My uncle, Melain Fortis, usurped my father's title and murdered him. He only needs my head to guarantee himself and his children the Duchy forever."

A smile stretched across Gerald's face. His assumption was right. He glanced at Lucas who was already gripping his sheathed sword with a tense fist. It seemed that this knight had been hiding more than he could have imagined. The knight also seemed adamant on preventing Frederick from surrendering to him.

Lucas glared at Gerald and their eyes met, glued to each other. The knight's determined expression stood proof to his resolve and he enunciated his next words slowly. "You will not have him. If you wish to, then you'll have to kill every one of us, and in the end you'll still not have him."

Gerald raised his brows. The knight's words suggested that he'd even end Frederick's life or let him die in battle if Gerald insisted on taking him. It was an odd but daring threat. It meant that Gerald would be spending his men's lives for nothing if he got too greedy and wanted to take Frederick.

He wanted to laugh. For others, Frederick was a walking chest of gold. But for Gerald, it was different. He saw something more valuable. Something he truly needed. Gold would certainly come someday. Besides, he didn't just want a one-time rush of gold to enter his coffers. He wanted to make his territory capable of supporting a thriving treasury every year.

Gerald looked at Lucas. "I see you've been caring for a fool." He gestured towards Frederick.

Lucas stiffened, apparently puzzled.

Frederick frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You said that many men have died for you," Gerald said. "Yet here you are, offering your life, which they paid for with theirs, to me. Tell me, isn't that what a fool would do?"

"I don't want more of them to die."

"Yet many already have," Gerald chuckled as he shook his head. The boy really was fool, or perhaps his frustration had taken a hold of him. "You make their sacrifice worthless by throwing your life away, do you not?"

"At least those who survive today will get a chance to live on," the boy said with a hoarse voice. "It's better than all of them dying for me."

"If all of them die for you, then at least they'll die knowing that they have fulfilled their duty," Gerald's eyes turned serious, his face straightening. "If you die now, then they've sacrificed years of their lives for nothing, and their brothers have also died for nothing."

"Why are you . . . " the boy was choking on his words and the tears he was holding back. "No more deaths. Isn't it enough already?"

"Indeed, it is. I've decided," Gerald smiled again. "No blood needs to be spilled today."

Lucas's face brightened, while Frederick seemed to have glimpsed a ray of hope.

"Of course, there is a condition," Gerald's smile turned into a smirk.

Lucas's smiled froze and it slowly receded as if he'd already expected things to be anything but simple.

"Lucas and his men will have to serve me."

"Impossible," Lucas yelled.

"I have not finished," Gerald stared the knight down. "Lucas and his men will serve me, and in exchange, I will shelter the young heir to the Fortis Duchy. He will be my squire. I will keep your secret, and you'll do my bidding. I will protect your lord, and you will provide me with counsel."

Lucas's eyes moved from side to side, obviously shocked by the offer but also uncertain. "How do I know you won't just kill us as soon as we let our guards down?"

Gerald cleared his throat and announced, "I, Gerald Tellus, swear by the name of my family that I will uphold the promise I have given on this day. I will give shelter to Frederick Fortis until the day he may take back what is his. I will uncover no secret that may bring harm upon him, and I will do all that is within my power to preserve his life."

Lucas seemed conflicted enough for Gerald to hear his ragged breaths. Frederick stood silent on the side. The boy seemed inexperienced when it came to actual negotiation. He was still silent and astonished by what was happening.

"Nothing guarantees that you'll really uphold your promise," Lucas said. "Perhaps you don't care about your family's honor. There is still no guarantee for our safety."

Gerald expected the knight's doubt. Even though his oath was sworn in front of two of his subordinates, Gasper and Uncle Rudolf, it was still not enough to make Lucas trust him. Breaking his oath would make his subordinates who'd witnessed him disdain if not outright abandon him. But that was no consolation to Lucas. The knight was more concerned about his Lord's safety than anything else. "I'm afraid you have no choice," Gerald said. "It's either my offer or death . . . for every one of you."

Lucas pressed his lips and glanced at his lieutenant. Gerald saw both resignation and agreement in the pair's eyes.

Lucas ended up nodding slowly. "We will accept your offer, hoping that you will fulfill your oath, Lord Tellus."

Gerald smiled, truly from the heart this time. Things had gone unexpectedly, but he'd reaped unexpected gains as well. He would keep his promise. Lucas was a loyal knight, and loyal was a rare commodity, much rarer than most people imagined. As long as he kept his promise, Lucas and his men would be as loyal to him as his own men were, or perhaps even more. His men had known him for only a few months, after all. While Lucas's loyalty would be based on his years of loyalty to Frederick and his murdered father.

"I will bring the men out of the fortress," Lucas continued.

Gerald was about to tell him to keep his men in the fortress for the next few months, but he decided against it. Since he'd promised to take Frederick as his 'squire', Lucas would likely want to stay nearby. The knight wouldn't fully trust him at first. And telling him to stay in the fortress while Frederick leaves for Ard might make the knight rethink his decision.

Gerald moved his gaze to the northwest. Robard was supposed to meet him here after the ambush, so that they could raze the fortress. They were both supposed to eliminate the bandits on their side and converge in the south to have the men raze the mud walls. Yet a day had passed since he'd ambushed Viper and Robard still hadn't arrived.

Ambushing the western bandit who'd participated in the attack on Edgar should have happened yesterday. And even if Robard had gone after that Edith who'd been absent, he should have arrived by now. Hopefully, nothing drastic had happened.

Lucas's men soon came out of the fortress and the knight waited along with Gerald. Not many words were exchanged. Lucas was still too wary to speak, while Gasper and Uncle Rudolf had an ungainly history with the knight, and so they didn't speak either.

..

By noon Gerald's riders reported Robard's arrival. Gerald rode out to receive his knight. The sight that welcomed him, however, promised ill news. The arriving men were covered in soot and grime that he could see from the distance. He also spotted a trail of wounded men marching in the rear.

Soon, Robard appeared from the thick of marching soldiers and rode to meet Gerald. The head knight's face and armor were covered in soot and his hair was disheveled. He seemed to have just come out of an oven. The size of the two regiments Robard had led seemed to have shrunk by a quarter. Gerald dreaded the questions he was about to ask.

"What in the hells happened to you, Robard?"

Chapter 56

Chapter 56

Gerald watched as his head knight pressed his lips, looking reluctant to speak. But it didn't take long for him to collect himself and begin.

"My lord," Robard said. "The ambush went well. The returning bandits never expected us, and our sudden appearance from every direction gave rise to panic in their ranks. Our losses were negligible"

Gerald nodded. He'd expected it to go this way. Harland didn't seem sharp enough to read an ambush before it befell him, and his men weren't as capable as Lucas's.

"We captured some of the bandits," Robard continued. "We questioned them, and we found that one of the two chiefs was missing. Edith, the woman, my lord. The captured bandits all agreed that she had no more than 200 men under her command."

"Did they lie?" Gerald asked.

"No, my lord."

"Then what happened?"

Robard cleared his throat. "We headed to the forest to wipe her men out and execute her. When we got there, we found the village northeast of the forest burned down, and its people slaughtered. It appears that the villagers had rebelled against the bandits, my lord. Their corpses were everywhere. Hanged on trees. Spiked on the border of the village. We even found some dead ones that seemed to have been burned alive."

Gerald glanced back at Gasper. The latter had told him that Edith hadn't joined the assault because of a supposed rising of peasants. It seemed to be true so far.

Lucas was nearby, listening to Robard's story. And so were Uncle Rudolf and Gasper. The latter frowned once he heard Robard's description of the villagers' deaths.

"Continue," Gerald nodded.

"We caught one of her scouts, my lord."

"And?"

"He said that Edith was attacking one of the northern camps."

This time Gerald glanced at Lucas, who snorted at the words with contempt. He had brought all of his men to the assault, after all. Likely, Edith had to vent her anger on the dead, hard wood of the empty camp.

"We marched north, my lord."

Gerald nodded. Attempting to catch Edith unprepared while she attacked the camp in the north seemed like the wisest decision.

"All that greeted us there was a burned camp," Robard continued, wincing momentarily, as if hating the memory. "We didn't find her. We tried to track her and her men, and the trail led us east."

Gerald realized what the wincing was about as he heard the last sentence. East was Viper's camp, but Edith had no grudge with him. Robard had also not known that Lucas's camp had been empty. A lot of knowledge had been obscured, and his head knight had had to make decisions without knowing what he knew. The wince from Robard was because the moment he had decided to follow Edith, he'd blundered. She had headed east because her scouts had spotted him and his men. Robard had likely assumed that she was attacking the other bandit camp in the north.

He didn't blamed his head knight. It was supposed to be much simpler. The two chiefs should have been returning from the assault together, and the ambush should have ended both of them. But Robard had been dragged into an unexpected chase, and he had also been supposed to return from this chase and meet Gerald in the south. It wasn't unreasonable that he would be hasty.

Gerald nodded for his knight to continue.

"We marched east, my lord," Robard said. "There, we came across the bandits from the other bandit camp. They were volatile. Most of them were alert and patrolling the outskirts of the camp. I would come to know later that they were chasing skirmishers from Edith's men. When the alerted bandits spotted us, we were forced to wipe them out as fast as possible. We also cleaned their camp in all due haste."

"And you realized by then that she was leading you on a fool's chase, yes?" Gerald said.

"Indeed, my lord," Robard nodded, clenching his jaw. "That's why I decided to return to the forest right away instead of tracking her further. It was the safest place for her. She would have to return to the forest to take shelter eventually."

Gerald nodded in agreement.

"She returned to the forest before us though, and she hid within it," Robard continued, his face scrunching up into a wretched expression. "Even if Ard's whole army was there, surrounding the forest would have been impossible, my lord. So I sent the cavalry to patrol around the forest, and I led most of the infantry and some crossbowmen into the forest, hoping to outnumber the bandits in the forest. Even if they had the advantage of the woods, our numbers were too many for them to deplete."

The second blunder, Gerald thought. He would have stopped there. Going into the forest was too risky. But he understood that Robard had been in a hurry, and had just been fooled by the bandits into a pointless chase. Gerald didn't know what he would have done in Robard's place though. He would have been more cautious, yes. But he didn't know what he would do to flush Edith out of the forest. The only thing he did know was that going into the forest was a risk. And he didn't take risks unless there was an opportunity for gains that could not be replicated on another occasion. Perhaps Robard would have been as cautious had the circumstances been different.

"At first, we faced no resistance as moved deeper into the forest," Robard said, looking unfamiliarly forlorn. "Then there was smoke."

Gerald's face twitched. He'd suspected it, but he hadn't wanted to believe his thoughts. Edith had burned down the whole damn forest. One of the meager three woods he had in the territory was likely in ashes right now. That was aside from the loss of men that he would hear about in a moment.

The territory had had three forests, barely enough for timber to be harvested without depleting each of the woods. The timber had lacked quality. But now there would be a lack of quantity too.

"She torched the forest, my lord," Robard said. "After we had marched into its depth. There were too many men for a quick retreat. The escape from the fire was chaotic. I pointed the men towards the right direction and told them to run and try to keep themselves alive. Every man for himself. Trying an organized retreat would have spilled our deaths."

Gerald's lips were pressed. He was barely holding himself back from cursing at Edith and all her forefathers. A damn woman and her two hundred men had cost him too much. He could easily imagine the losses Robard's two regiments had suffered.

"Of the 1200 men that entered the forest with me, five hundred fell," Robard said with difficulty. He avoided Gerald's gaze and fidgeted slightly. "My lord, I—"

Gerald lifted his hand for Robard to stop. "We can discuss this mistake of yours later. What did Edith and her men do?"

"She told them to escape in every direction. We caught some, but a great portion of them escaped, my lord."

"And Edith escaped, yes?" Gerald said, knowing the answer.

Robard's eyes sharpened, and his face finally showed a hint of resolute fury. "I wouldn't have returned without her head, my lord." He reached to grab a sack from the side of his horse, raising it.

Gerald was pleasantly surprised. The sack contained two heads instead of one. He watched as Robard pulled a braided head from inside for him to see. The woman's savage face was bloodied and, apparently, beaten thoroughly. Robard hadn't followed the common manners of handling a woman, it seemed. But then again, common manners and beliefs forbade women more than men from bloody banditry. A man would simply lose his head for banditry. But a woman would be stoned to death and cursed for all eternity. For what reason was such judgment prevalent, Gerald didn't know.

"She tried to escape into the mountains," Robard said, his burning gaze on the bloody head in his hand. "I caught her before she could. I would have chased her into the depths of the mountains had she succeeded, my lord."

Gerald nodded with a faint smile. At least he'd finally wiped out all of the bandit crews. All that remained now were a few scattered brigands. Such remnants would be swept clean sooner or later. They weren't numerous enough to form a crew, and he doubted that they would be foolish enough to try after what he'd done to the previous ones.

He signaled for Gasper and Uncle Rudolf, and the two came closer. He looked at gasper. "You'll take your crew to the north and stay there for now. Make your presence known."

Gasper nodded. "Yes, my lord."

Gerald glanced at Gasper's numerous men in the distance. They were dilapidated, but they were many. "See to it that your men are calmed down after you make camp in the north. They seem anxious from all this." Gasper's men were likely only following commands out of fear of the unknown right now, but they would begin asking questions once they settled down. He would leave it to Uncle Rudolf and Gasper to handle it though. The two of them were more knowledgeable of the men they had trained themselves, after all.

He nodded for them to leave, and the two rode towards their crew. As Gasper's crew began moving towards the northeast, Gerald signaled for his men to prepare for the return to Ard.

His eyes fell on Lucas and he gestured for him. "Ride beside me."

They had a lot to talk about on the way back.

Chapter 57

Chapter 57

During the return, Gerald received answers to most of his curious questions.

Lucas had been one of the army commanders to the former Duke Fortis. He'd been out in the field when he'd heard that the Duchy's capital was under attack. He'd attempted to return but was surprised by a mutiny in his ranks. A few of his captains had suddenly united in an attempt to overthrow him. After a gruesome battle that only reaped the lives of his own men, he'd emerged the victor. But it had delayed him.

He'd returned to find the Capital within the grasp of the Duke's brother. The latter had received help from one of the neighboring Duchies. Along with his own men, it was enough to overthrow the Duke, Frederick's father, whose army had mostly been in the field.

The Duke had attempted to send his five sons away, but four of them had been caught, meeting the same fate as him. The only survivor was Frederick, the third son, who was now under the care of Lucas.

The caretaker who'd smuggled Frederick out of the Capital had been told to bring him to one of two knights the Duke had trusted the most. Lucas one of the two. The other one had died in battle soon after the treason.

The only message the Duke had sent was a plea for his knight to take the boy and escape, in the hopes of returning some day to reclaim what was his.

Lucas had chosen 2000 men, his most trustworthy, to accompany him. He'd abandoned the Duchy with them and eventually landed in the western territory of the Maric Kingdom. From there, he and his men had posed as sellswords, often doing mercenary work for both gold and appearance.

It had continued for several years, until the new Duke Fortis had found them in the Westwell territory southwest of the basin.

He'd sent assassins after them and had even pit other mercenary groups against them. Eventually, Lucas had had to find a new disguise for his men.

Duke Fortis knew Lucas's temperament well. He would never have expected him to pose and act as a bandit, and that was why Lucas had chosen to do exactly that.

The clawless Viscounty had presented him with a golden opportunity for the new disguise, and he'd stayed within the basin ever since. The soldiers' families had stayed in a Maleh, a seaside town in the Westwell territory.

..

Now Gerald was sitting in his study, two days after the return to Ard. A few letters were spread on the table at his finger tips.

He was tapping on the table slowly with his fingers when someone knocked on the door.

"Come in, Arthur."

"My lord." Arthur entered. "Everything is prepared."

"The chiefs' heads?" Gerald stared at his minister, a clear meaning in his gaze.

Arthur nodded. "As you've commanded, my lord. They have been painted red and hanged above a gate each. Beside their heads, a few corpses of their men are hanging for all to see."

"And about the mercenaries?" Gerald said.

"The word has been spread, my lord. The bandits combined their forces and attacked your allies. They succeeded in murdering Edgar, but they couldn't escape your retribution. You avenged the mercenaries and rid the territory of the feral brigands."

Gerald nodded with a smile. One of the reasons he'd had the chiefs' heads hanged above the gates was that he wanted to make it seem like a grudge. Bandits would have normally had their heads spiked on the outskirts of the castle randomly. But he'd brought it to the sight of everyone within and without the castle that he was making an example out of the chiefs. "Is anyone suspicious?"

Arthur shook his head and chuckled. "None at all, my lord. Even Robard says that the soldiers have no doubts. It is what happened, after all."

"But some might already have doubts about Gasper. It wouldn't be difficult to figure it out."

"My lord, only very few will realize that Gasper's crew is under your command. Commoners certainly won't. And even those who know the truth have no proof that you were the one who's arranged for Edgar's demise. The reputation of the house is safe."

Gerald nodded. He was too concerned, but he'd never thought of it like a commoner or even a soldier. There was nothing to bring doubt. He'd done nothing suspicious enough to point them towards the truth. Even the army had left Ard under the guise of vengeance. Nobody knew the exact time Edgar's fortress had been attacked, and so no one would notice that Gerald had found out about the bandits' assault peculiarly early.

For most people, the bandits might have assaulted the fortress before dawn or even earlier.

"I trust the treasury has come to your liking?" Gerald partly grinned at his minister.

Arthur smiled wide, his lips threatening to split. "Yes, my lord. 30,000 gold coins have been recovered from the bandits."

"Half of it is Edgar's," Gerald chortled. Now his treasury contained 37,000 gold. An amount that was enough to cast his worries away. Lucas had been forced to hand his gold to Gerald, while Gasper had given a portion of his crew's gold to Gerald.

He could finally work on improving the territory with the current amount of gold in his treasury. But there were other matters at hand. Grina and her brother had already been imprisoned after his return. The siblings would be put on trial in the coming days, and Gerald had to do it right.

"I will need to visit Grina," he said.

"Why, my lord?" Arthur raised a brow. "Is something the matter."

Gerald shook his head. "No. I just want to ask her some questions."

"Then I'll prepare for it, my lord."

..

.

Before dusk, Gerald was walking through a corridor in one of Ard's dungeons, loose gravel crunching under his feet. The darkness of the dungeon was barely kept at bay by its torches, and the hard, black stone that it was built with worked to add to the dark more than the light. The walls were jagged, and the smell of piss, sweat, and moss permeated the air. It was horrible enough for Gerald to taste it in his throat.

Dirty doors adorned the right side of the corridor which had no end in sight. Two guards followed Gerald until they came upon two cleaner cell doors. This part of the corridor had obviously been cleaned. The doors were wiped clean and the horrible smell was fainter. The loose gravel had been removed, and the ground was jagged but easier to walk on. This part of the dungeon had been cleaned for his cousins' stay.

"That's the one, mi'lord," a guard pointed at the first of the two clean doors.

Gerald nodded and gestured for him to open it.

The guard hurriedly produced a key from the ring on belt and unlocked the cell.

Gerald walked inside, where it was even darker with no torches. He squinted, and it took him a moment to see Grina clearly. She was seated on the ground, her back to the wall and her limbs chained. He saw the remains of some food, that a well-off man wouldn't scorn, next to her. The guards hadn't treated her too badly.

"The lord comes to visit me," a croaky voice came out of her. She choked on a chuckle that scratched Gerald's ear then she grew silent.

"You failed, Grina," he said, kneeling down to meet her eye. He glanced back at the guard who was at the door. "Close it."

"Yes, my lord." The door swung shut.

Gerald stared at Grina again and smiled. "You turned out to be craftier than I had imagined though."

"It didn't matter in the end," Grina scowled

"Indeed." Gerald produced a stack of letters from his garments. "Your letters." He showed some teeth with his smile. He'd gotten all the letters Grina had sent to Edgar. Uncle Rudolf had recovered them from Edgar's quarters in the fortress.

"Are they not enough proof for you?" she smiled weakly. "Do you want more from me."

"No, no," Gerald shook his head. He raised the letters up to her eyes. "You agreed to marry Edgar. It seems that you had tried to get him on your side before and he had demanded something of this sort, and in the end you agreed. But not only that . . ." He gazed at her, still smiling.

Her face tightened and she hesitated then muttered, "I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Were you going to murder your brother for the Viscounty, Grina?" His eyes were fixed on her. She had been planning to put her brother, Estor, in Gerald's seat. But in the letters, he'd found that she had been planning to marry Edgar then take the rule from Estor's hands. She would have Tellus blood, while Edgar would be a man so that a woman wouldn't be ruling. It would have been enough to silence any dissidents, or at least those who couldn't be silenced with blades. Only, Gerald had gotten the notion that she really cared for her brother.

Grina tried to chuckle but ended up coughing. He didn't know why her state had deteriorated so badly when she'd only been imprisoned for two days. It appeared that she'd suffered more in mind than body.

"I would never harm my brother," she said. "It would have been easy enough to persuade him to abdicate. He would have enjoyed being Viscount for a month or two, but the responsibility would have weighed on him eventually."

"So you would have preyed on his weakness," Gerald said.

"No," she growled. "I would have been helping him. My brother can't rule, and he would have harmed more than helped himself. He's too weak."

"Or you just wanted all the power for yourself."

"It isn't wrong, wanting power," she stared back at him this time, her fiery eyes threatening to pierce him. "Only a fool wouldn't seek power. It is everything. You know that well, and if you don't, then you're just another fool."

Gerald was silent for a few moments. He didn't really disagree with her, but she'd reached for what wasn't hers. "You could've stood by me," he said. "You were worthy of being one of my aides, Grina. Had you—"

"And what would have I gotten?" she interrupted him, laughing. "If I had children, what would they get? I could have been one of your aides for a day, a month, a year. But you could have still made me nothing with a single word out of your mouth. My children would have become nothing of worth."

"Is that why you never sought to have children?" he pondered aloud.

"I promised myself that I would have none unless I got the Viscounty. Unless I could protect them."

"The house would have protected them, Grina," Gerald said. "The house would have protected you, had you stayed loyal."

Grina broke into mad laughter at his words. She struggled to stop herself then looked at him scornfully. "Lies."

He stood up and looked down at her. "It's so unfortunate, Grina. I wish it had all gone differently."

Her eyes moved up and landed on him. "I would do it all again, cousin. It could have never gone differently. The risks never mattered to me. I would live above others, not beneath them. Never."

Gerald didn't retort. He had never met a queen, but he imagined that if he met one someday, she would sound a lot like Grina.

She was right. It could have never gone differently. Grina would have been a good aide, but she hadn't been born to be an aide. She was more. He doubted Edgar would have been the one to rule had they succeeded, even with how clever he'd seemed.

He nodded to her slowly and then left the cell.

Chapter 58

Chapter 58

In the Lord's Hall, Gerald was in his seat. Below, stood a small crowd, mostly members of the Tellus family. Harrid and Frederick were near the hall's door. Gerald had allowed the two of them to witness the coming trial.

Suppressed murmurs were coming from his relatives below, while Arthur and Robard stood by his side, silent.

"Have you chosen yet?" Gerald said, his voice echoing through the hall and silencing the murmurs of the crowd.

"Yes, my lord," answered an old man, stepping forward from among Gerald's relatives. Two other men stepped forward beside him, both middle-aged. "The three of us will stand witness to the trial, my lord."

Gerald nodded. "Then step up here. The traitors are soon to arrive."

The old man nodded and ascended onto the platform where Gerald was seated. The two other men followed him.

Gerald nodded to Harrid, and the latter opened the door. A guard came in, leading a woman and a man with chained wrists. He led them towards the platform, and the crowd opened a path for them. The guard stopped right below the platform, dragging the two prisoners and pushing them in front of him. Gerald's eyes would now naturally rest on the pair without having to put any effort into it.

Arthur stepped forward. "Grina Tellus. Estor Tellus. You have been found guilty of treason. Have you anything to say in your defense?"

Estor was dressed in the rags of what Gerald could imagine to have been luxurious garments. Grina's clothes fared better, her dress still intact but as badly smudged with dirt as her face was.

Estor raised his head and mustered some courage. "We've . . . " He gulped and grew silent as all eyes landed on him. He lowered his head again.

"We deny it," Grina's voice rose through the hall. Gone was the croaky, defeated voice of two days ago. Gone was her resigned expression.

Gerald knew that she was aware of her certain demise, but she was here to fight. He knew that she would fight to the last moment.

"How dare you lie in the presence of the Lord?" Arthur said, his voice sharper than Gerald had ever heard it before. "You won't be able to deny it when the Lord's court produces proof of your guilt."

Grina snorted and lowered her head.

Gerald glanced at the three men next to him who were led by the old man. He wanted a full trial, and a full trial involved three neutral men standing witness to the proceedings. They would see the proof the Lord had against the accused, and they would have the right to speak. Later, their testimony would be spread among the people. If the Lord were to mistreat the accused and punish them for untrue crimes, the three witnesses would, supposedly, spread the truth among the people.

Gerald could have put Grina and her brother on closed trial, where only those he allowed to attend would have the right to be here, and there would have been no three witnesses. But he'd chosen to allow all of the family members to attend, and he'd allowed them to choose the three witnesses from among themselves. The whole reason he'd waited this long to act against Grina was to avoid riling his family members. Now he wanted them to witness her absolute guilt.

He glanced at Arthur and nodded.

His minister cleared his throat then spoke with a vigorous voice, "bring them in."

Harrid opened the hall's door again, and a guard came in followed by three men. The three were in commoners' clothes, but defeat instead of poverty was apparent on their faces.

The three men were brought to stand beside the accused. They bowed deeply to Gerald then stood with lowered heads.

"The three of you are former members of the garrison, yes?" Arthur said.

"Yes, my lo—your Excellency," one of the men answered, the other two nodding after him.

"You stand in the presence of the Lord," Arthur announced. "Do you swear to tell the truth and only the truth?"

"We do, your Excellency," the three answered in unison.

"I speak in the Lord's name. And I ask you, did this woman have you, on several occasions, open the gates of Ard during nighttime without the Lord's command?"

One of the men glanced at Grina who glanced back at him sideways. He gulped and looked up, meeting Arthur's eyes. "Yes, your Excellency," he nodded.

The two beside him nodded and echoed the same answer.

The old man from the family cleared his throat and nodded respectfully towards Gerald. "My lord, it is simply the folly of a young woman. She must have wanted to wander the wilderness with some of her guard, nothing more."

Arthur glared at the old man. "The accused is hardly young. And are 100 armed men considered her personal guard?"

The old man stared back at Arthur but he didn't get the chance to retort.

Arthur looked down at the three men again. "Did this woman," he pointed at Grina, "have you open the gates for her and 100 armed men on one of the said occasions?"

"Yes, your Excellency. She did."

"And did she, on other occasions, have you open the gates for some subordinates of hers to leave or enter Ard without her personal presence? Even dragging horses and wagons with them at times?"

"Yes, your Excellency."

Arthur turned to the old man again. "I suppose she was sending her men to do the wandering for her, yes?"

The old man grew silent, glancing down at Grina with pressed lips.

"It is not farfetched to assume that these wagons were used to trade with brigands," Arthur continued, receiving a few glares from the crowd below.

Grina looked up, staring at Gerald as if a long lasting suspicion of hers had been proven. He had expected her to suspect his relation with Gasper's crew sooner or later, and he'd been right, it seemed.

Arthur looked at Gerald, awaiting a gesture. Gerald nodded, and his minister produced a small stack of letters. "These letters have been found in the remains of the Red Rain band's camp. They were sent to Edgar, the captain of the band, by," he spread one of the letters open then read the name from it, "Grina."

"May we see those letters," the old man said.

Arthur nodded and handed him the letters.

The old man took the letters, handing some of them to the two beside him and reading one himself.

"As you can see, the accused exchanged letters with the mercenary captain," Arthur said. "Among those letters, you can find some of their insidious plans for the Viscounty."

"I have sent no such letters, and I have received nothing," Grina said form below.

Arthur graced her with a gaze of scorn and smiled. He looked at the old man. "I suppose you would recognize Grina's writing, yes?"

Gerald had already assumed that the old man knew Grina well. He knew that his minister had likely assumed the same by now. The old man was too adamant in his defense of the siblings. The three members of the family would be expected to handle this matter with absolute scrutiny, but they wouldn't simply attempt to disprove or bend the truths like the old man had done.

The old man was silent for a moment. "I—" he breathed in, as if he'd forgotten to do it before speaking in his haste. "I recognize no such thing. I have rarely seen Grina's writing."

"Many others could recognize it," Arthur said. "And these letters," he produced two other letters, "will certainly prove her guilt." He handed them to the old man.

The old man opened them and his face fell.

"Those are the letters Grina sent to two of her acquaintances recently," Arthur smiled. "We recovered them from people with the good of the Viscounty at heart. You can compare the writing in those two letters to the ones we've found in the mercenaries' camp. It's obvious that the accused didn't even put effort into changing her writing when she sent those letters to the mercenary captain. But she had underestimated the Lord's subordinates." He glanced down at Grina with disdain.

Grina glared up at him. "I have sent no such letters," she pressed her words.

"You have, and you have also received letters from the late captain of the Red Rain band, but you have disposed of them," Arthur said. "More than a fortnight ago, you received and sent letters in the middle of the night on several occasions, do you deny it?"

Grina didn't hesitated. "I do." Then realization dawned upon her face and it paled.

Gerald smirked faintly. What would make Arthur certain that she'd received the letters in the middle of the night? Even if it was to be expected that she would receive them late at night, Arthur wouldn't have mentioned it during the trial unless he was certain of the time. Grina had been late to realize that.

"Bring them in," Arthur shouted.

Harrid opened the door of the hall again, and a guard came in, leading five people into the hall. Among the five, one was a commonly dressed woman and the rest were dilapidated men in rags. The three former members of the garrison were taken away and replaced by the five newcomers, who bowed to Gerald.

Arthur looked at the four homeless men first. "Do you four swear to speak the truth and nothing but the truth?"

"Yes." The four men kept their heads lowered, not once raising their eyes to meet Arthurs'.

"Have you four witnessed letters delivered to and sent from Grina Tellus's manor?" Arthur pointed at Grina.

"We did."

"Aye, we did, lord."

Gerald had arranged for some of Yanna's acquaintances to testify against Grina. He'd wanted her fate sealed without a chance of coming back.

Arthur nodded then looked at the woman that stood beside the four homeless men. Gerald knew her to be one of the manor maids that served Grina. Arthur had surprised him by persuading one of Grina's subordinates to testify against her. Grina had cared for them and their families for years. They had failed to turn any of her subordinates against her for the past several days.

"I swear to tell the truth, your Excellency," the woman said, meeting Arthur's eye before he could lay the question.

The minister nodded then asked, "Twenty-one days ago, did you receive a letter for your mistress at midnight?"

"Yes, your Excellency."

"And what did she tell you after you handed her the letter?" Arthur said.

"She told me to keep the matter discreet and never to mention the letter to anyone, your Excellency."

Arthur nodded, then turned to the old man and smiled. "The matter is sealed, as you can see. The accused are guilty. Unless you believe all of this is coincidence."

The old man's mouth twitched but he didn't speak.

Arthur extended his hand and received the letters from the old man. "The Lord shall now pass his judgment. Does anyone intend to protest the truths presented in this court?"

Silence answered the minister, and he nodded to Gerald, awaiting his words.

"None of this proves my brother's guilt," a voice stopped Gerald before he could speak.

He looked down at Grina and frowned.

Arthur glowered at her and said, "do you deny that your brother was aware of all of your plans."

Grina looked Gerald in the eyes, a certain determination in her gaze.

Arthur, unanswered, fumed. "I speak in the name of the Lord. Answer me when I ask. Do you deny that your brother knew of your plans."

Grina didn't answer him. She kept her eyes fixed on Gerald. "I hope the Lord will keep this matter in mind while passing his judgment. My brother has had no hand in my plans for the Viscounty, and he was not aware of any of the things mentioned today. I'm certain the Lord will be just in his sentence."

Gerald narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. She was forcing him to lessen Estor's sentence, even though he knew the latter was guilty. He hadn't put any effort into finding proof against Estor, as the danger was mainly from Grina.

The old man turned and looked at Gerald, as if waiting for his response.

Gerald glanced at him and gave a faint nod.

Traces of ire were still on Arthur's face but he seemed to suppress them. He straightened himself and said, "the Lord will now pass his judgment. Any protests?"

Silenced embraced the hall again. Then Arthur nodded to Gerald once more.

Now Gerald would decide Grina's fate. She'd finally fallen into his hands, powerless. The thought of ending her life had been on his mind for months now. She had earned it. But he thought otherwise now.

For his plans for the other family members to succeed, he had decided otherwise. Grina would never have any influence again, whether left alive or not. If she ever managed to gain power again, then he would be a fool deserving of what befalls him. He'd imprisoned those who served her from the garrison. He'd imprisoned all of her men. And she was already besmirched with the stain of treason. No one would help her, even her closest friends. None of the members of the family would be foolish enough to try.

But he had to avoid the emergence of another Grina, in his time and in his children's time as well. If he wanted his rule and the rule of his heir after him to be uncontested, he had to declaw his relatives in Ard. He had to do so before building the Viscounty up to what he wished for it to be; otherwise, he would be building it up for others to take. He didn't know if that was the only reason for his change of heart, but he knew that it was enough for him to avoid sentencing her to death.

The silence in the hall grew eerie, and the grim expectations on the faces of the three family witnesses and the crowd below gave a tense air to the court. Gerald breathed out, loudly enough for everyone to hear. Every eye in the hall rested on him in sullen anticipation.

"I pronounce Grina Tellus guilty of treason," Gerald said, staring down at her. "And my sentence is imprisonment for life. All possessions of the traitor will be seized by the Viscounty."

Grina's eyes widened in surprise, and she looked at him twice as if ascertaining what she'd heard by observing his face.

A sigh of relief came from the old man upon hearing the sentence. A lot of faces relaxed at Gerald's words. And that's what he wanted. He wanted them to feel at ease. If he was going to straighten the affairs of his house, he couldn't do it with blood. His family would forever stay his family. He had to handle things softly but swiftly.

"I pronounce Estor Tellus guilty by sippenhaft," Gerald said. If he couldn't directly implicate Estor then he could simply sentence him for being the family of a traitor. He would lighten his sentence considerably though, enough to show the rest of the family his lenience. "He will be released from the castle's dungeons and allowed to return to the manor, but he will henceforth be kept under guard and confined to his home. All his possessions of the sentenced, aside from the manor, shall be seized as well."

Grina broke from her unbelieving expression into a smile. She looked at Estor who looked back at her disbelievingly. Gerald watched the two of them share a final moment of joy.

Estor would never meet his sister again. No one would ever meet her again, Gerald would make sure of it. She would only see the dungeon guards for the rest of her life.

..

Gerald's court was soon emptied, and the siblings were taken away. Grina would be sent to the dungeons, while her brother would be sent back to the manor to stay under the scrutiny of his guards.

Only his two aides stayed in the hall after everyone had left. Even Harrid and Frederick had been told to leave the hall.

Robard had been silent since the beginning of the trial, but his silence was one of satisfaction. He nodded to Gerald. "My lord. I shall take my leave to do your bidding."

Gerald nodded back. "You have your leave."

His knight soon left.

Arthur faced Gerald and said, "are you certain of your sentence, my lord? Did you leave her alive to reassure your relatives?"

Gerald cleared his throat. "Yes. Have you prepared everything?"

"Yes, my lord," his minister nodded. "Old Han has already been informed. By the end of the next month, there will not be a single Tellus remaining in the garrison. Old Han will relieve them of their duties."

"Good," he smiled. "Robard will be isolating any ones in the army. It won't be as easy to remove them from his ranks. They have fought and bled for the Viscounty after all, but they will be kept under scrutiny and eventually let go."

He wouldn't harm his family, even if he hadn't grown up among its members. Even if they didn't have faith in him.

He wouldn't harm them, yes. But if he were to choose between the stability of his rule and their goodwill, he would sacrifice the latter without hesitation. They had to be removed from every position of power, or there would always be a risk. A risk he wasn't willing to bear.

Chapter 59

Chapter 59

Gerald stood in front of the book case with an old, thick book in his hands. He slowly tucked it into the ranks of its kind. He'd been reading it for a few days. It was a book that described the origins of his family. His first ancestor had come from the Heartlands, where the Babylon Empire had eventually been established after the Thousand War. He'd come from a branch of one of the major families in the Heartlands, but he'd been too far away from power there. The strong competition and the first ancestor not being part of the main family had prevented him from gaining any power or support in the Heartlands.

Hence he had travelled to the subcontinent in the hopes of establishing himself. The wrestle for power in the subcontinent had just started by then, and he'd found many opportunities upon his arrival.

A knock on the study's door brought Gerald out of his thoughts. He raised a brow and said, "come in."

The door was pushed open and Lucas entered.

"I didn't expect you to arrive this early, Lucas," Gerald said, returning to his seat.

"Well, there was nothing to delay me, your lordship."

Gerald nodded as he sat down. "I presume Arthur has told you what this is about?"

Lucas nodded, obviously hiding his distress. He cleared his throat. "I can't swear allegiance to you, Lord Tellus."

Gerald almost choked on his laugh. "Who said that you'd have to swear allegiance to anyone? We simply need a good disguise for you. With your loyalty to the late Duke Fortis, I know that it's impossible to sway you to my side."

Lucas's face relaxed a little, and he nodded.

Gerald hummed. "In a way, you've sacrificed your entire life for his son, and you've even persuaded your men to do the same. I would be a fool to expect an oath of allegiance from you."

"I'm grateful for your understanding, your lordship," Lucas said.

"He must have been a good Lord," Gerald said. He wished he could inspire similar loyalty in his men.

"He cared for his men," Lucas said, his eyes lost in nostalgia. "And his men cared for him. Between him and us, there was more than just an oath, your lordship."

Gerald nodded. "A good Lord indeed." He pointed at a chair. "Sit, Lucas."

The old knight nodded and took a seat.

Gerald leant forward. "If you're going to serve me as we've agreed, then we'll need to find a proper disguise for you. I don't want Duke Fortis sniffing around my territory in the near future. He can't bring his men here, but he could still ask some favors from the Lords nearby."

Lucas nodded. "He already did it once. Count Westwell sought our death when the Duke discovered us in his territory. If my men and I hadn't been quick enough, he would have slaughtered us."

"Then you understand my concerns," Gerald said. Lucas's men were currently mixed with one of his army's regiments. They were camped near Ard. No one had asked worrying questions yet, but it was only a matter of time for his own soldiers to ask those questions. "First, we will have to let others know who you are. A suitable disguise for yourself would be as Robard's brother."

Lucas rubbed his stubble. "Robard, your head knight?"

"Yes," Gerald nodded. "Robard wasn't from the basin to begin with. His father was a knight errant from the southern parts of the continent. He'd brought him here when he was a child, and Robard had eventually grown to serve my father. But Robard has four other brothers who never came here."

"You want me as one of those brothers."

"Yes. You'll be Lucas, a knight errant like your father before you," Gerald explained. "You've grown tired of wandering the land and have come to settle down near your brother. Your brother has asked me to accept your allegiance, so that you'd become a house knight, and I've accepted."

Lucas seemed lost in thought for a few moments, then he nodded and spoke. "That will do, I suppose."

"You don't have to swear allegiance to me. But in front of everyone else, you already have," Gerald said. "Only my closest aides and Gasper know who you are. From today, it will be 'my lord' instead of 'your lordship'."

Lucas pressed his lips and nodded reluctantly. Gerald knew that the old knight had likely never called anyone 'my lord' after his late Duke had passed.

"As for your men," Gerald continued. "You will have to move them soon. I have a plan in mind."

"Very well . . ." Lucas said, the word stuck in his throat, "my lord."

Gerald smiled and nodded then gestured for the knight to leave. When Lucas reached the door, Gerald said, "I have kept my word, have I not?"

With his hand on the door, Lucas looked back towards him. "You have." Then he retracted his hand. "I saw your men training near our camp a few days ago."

"I've lost 1000 men in the recent battles," Gerald scowled. "I need to raise their replacements."

Lucas nodded. "When I served the Duke, I fought many enemies, different enemies. There was always someone who wanted more."

"They're called the Warring Duchies for a reason," Gerald chortled.

"Indeed," Lucas said, his eyes regaining their nostalgic sheen. "Duke Elshor."

"Huh?" Gerald raised a brow.

"He's the one who I don't want to fight again," Lucas said, his brows slightly creased. "His men were akin to beasts in their strength. He wasn't clever. He would fight you with the straightest of tactics. But his soldiers were the toughest I've ever fought."

"Why is that?" Gerald asked, intrigued. There was no Lord that didn't wish for an army of monsters at his command.

"He trained his men with the most peculiar of methods," Lucas said, his eyes gazing afar, beyond the walls of the study. "Methods that no respectable army on the Asura Continent would use, in fear of being ridiculed. They were most useful for heavy infantry and longbow archers." His far gaze returned to normal then he eyed Gerald meaningfully.

"Longbows?" Gerald perked up. "There is a better way to train my men for longbows?"

"Yes," Lucas nodded. "As long as a man knew how to use a bow, Duke Elshor would only need 3 months to train them for the use of longbows, and sometimes even less time."

"How?"

"Stones and rocks."

Gerald kept his ears perked patiently.

"For the heavy infantry, he would have them wear lean sacks filled with rocks and stones twice the weight of their heavy armor, day long. When they got used to such weight, their armor was as light as a feather for them."

"And the archers?"

"He would have them carry and lift heavy stones with their pull-arm. Their strength would double within two months, making them capable of pulling a longbow to its fullest extent easily."

"Can you pass these methods to Robard?" Gerald stood up.

Lucas smiled. "Yes. After we defeated Duke Elshor, we learned his methods and used them. My men were trained the same way. I will gladly help with your archers' training . . . my lord."

Gerald smiled wide. "Thank you, Lucas."

"You've kept your word," Lucas said. "It would do me a dishonor not to help you as much as I can. And there is even more to come when the time is ripe, my lord."

Gerald nodded. He understood Lucas's intention. As long as he kept his word and didn't sell them to the Duke, there was more that Lucas could help with. Perhaps the old knight was trying to prove his worth. After all, Gerald had not sold them to the Duke because he wanted to make good use of them. Lucas missed something though. Gerald wouldn't betray their agreement, not when he had agreed to it willingly, let alone proposed it himself.

Lucas opened the door and stepped out, only to stop with one foot inside. He turned and looked Gerald in the eye. "When is the funeral of your fallen men?"

Gerald looked at the knight as if he was gazing a fool. How would he know the answer to that? "I don't know. Their families will arrange for their funerals."

Lucas's eyes slowly left Gerald's, and he gazed at floor, nodding sullenly. Then he left.

ß-----------------------------------------------------à

Gasper woke up in the middle of the night with unbearable pain plaguing his body. He gritted his teeth, preventing a stray scream from leaving his throat. Quite a few days had passed since the battle, but he was still in the middle of turning into a Sky Warrior. At most, it would take a fortnight. However, it often took as little as eight days for an Earth Warrior to become a Sky Warrior.

After the battle, he'd done as the Viscount had commanded him. He'd taken his men to the north, and they'd expanded Viper's camp and taken it as their own. After that, he'd let the strength stored in his body spread. The pain was always there since then. It was bearable during the day. Gasper had even hidden it from Master Rudolf. Nobody noticed his pain during the mornings. But during the nights, it was at its worst. The pain would have been enough to make him yell in pain if he hadn't prepared himself for it.

Even though Master Rudolf had known that he was close to becoming a Sky Warrior before the battle, Gasper hadn't told him anything yet. And the old steward hadn't asked, likely out of kindness. Failing to step further as a Warrior was often the greatest regret of those who chose that path.

Perhaps the old man had already assumed that he'd failed. But he hadn't.

The pain was worst in his gut, and slightly fainter in his limbs. It was like a dull knife tearing his flesh apart under the skin. It often reached a climax during his sleep, waking him up with an arched back. He hadn't had a good night's sleep since his arrival in the north.

As the pain grew weaker and weaker, he relaxed slightly, breathing out. Soon, the pain was mostly gone, and Gasper's eyes drooped. And He let himself be swept away into the darkness of comfort.

..

.

In the morning, he waited for Master Rudolf in the cabin. He needed to ask the fated question today. He wouldn't wait anymore.

There was a knock on the door then the masked old man entered. Gasper didn't say anything as the old man walked towards the table and sat down.

Master Rudolf looked at him in anticipation.

Gasper glanced at the mask on the old man's face.

Master Rudolf easily read his expression. He lifted the mask off his old face and smiled at him. "Is something the matter?"

Gasper nodded, breathing in and out. "Ahem, we have removed the bandits from the basin, Master Rudolf. I'm no longer needed here."

"You are," the old steward said. "The Lord needs you here, in the north."

"Will I be a bandit forever?" Gasper said. He wondered if the Viscount took him for an expendable brigand. He'd offered his life and service to redeem himself from the shame of abandoning the former Viscount. But he'd never intended for himself to be a bandit for redemption. He'd done it because that's what the territory and the Viscount had needed back then, but now there were no more bandits to fool.

"No," Master Rudolf looked at him incredulously. "I don't believe we will stay here for long."

"So we will return?"

Master Rudolf nodded. "Soon, I suppose."

Gasper gulped slowly then looked the old steward in the eye. "When we return, will I be let go? I—"

Master Rudolf interrupted him with a guffaw. After the old man's laughter stopped he looked back at Gasper and said, "You think you've lost your worth to the Viscount, yes?"

Gasper nodded. He'd left the current Viscount's father to his death, and now he'd already done what compensated for that. But all he'd done was fool a few bandits. He was still the man who'd left the side of his Lord at the sight of death. Perhaps the Viscount wouldn't even let him join the army again, let alone treat him any better.

"You assume too much," Master Rudolf chortled, shaking his head. "You've seen nothing from Gerald but his ruthlessness, Gasper. He has very few friends, so it has become his nature. When you only have enemies, you will grow merciless. But that doesn't mean that Gerald will treat a friend the same way."

"Friend?" Gasper cocked his head.

"You will see," the old steward said, smiling. "You have done what he's asked of you, and more. You've risked your life for him. That is enough to show your worth, Gasper. If he doesn't accept you, then he would be a fool of a Lord." He looked at the table with a hint of sorrow. "Gerald has a lot of shortcomings that I failed to help him forsake. But he isn't a fool."

Gasper nodded. He didn't know if Master Rudolf's words were true or not, but he would accept this answer for now. His father had often told him that a man's life was a blend of effort and fate. The two wrestled endlessly. A man's effort tried to veer his fate towards the desired direction. But sometimes, a man needed to stop fearing what fate.

He had already provided the effort, and he would wait for his fate to respond.

Chapter 60

Chapter 60

Gasper was tapping on the table patiently as he sat. His men were still restless. They'd fought beside the Viscount, and they didn't know yet what to make of it. Some of them assumed that he had reached an agreement with the Viscount to topple the other crews and take over their territories. But those were the witless, Gasper imagined. Why would the Viscount clean shit to eat crap? The Viscount would want all of the bandits gone, not most of them gone and one left to reap the benefits.

Those who knew that had already begun spreading what they believed to be the hidden truth, which is that Gasper served the Viscount. They were right, but that wasn't the problem for him now. The problem was that many were scared. Their chief had helped the Viscount pull the other bandits by the roots. Would he eventually do the same to them? They had joined him with the purpose of banditry, after all. They weren't much better than the ones whose corpses adorned the fields of the basin now, even if they hadn't partook in shedding the blood of the Lord's subjects; they had still stolen from him.

"I think it's time for you to speak to them," Master Rudolf said from across the table. Beside him sat Erick who looked distressed, keeping his composure with some difficulty.

Gasper nodded. "I believe so as well." He'd avoided speeches because he didn't want to seem like one who was swindling his men to their deaths. He'd given them some time to adapt and had gotten Master Rudolf and Erick to attempt to calm those who were too anxious.

"What would you say . . . chief?" Erick said, hesitating at the last word.

Gasper hadn't explained too much to him. He'd only told him that the Viscount wouldn't come for their lives like he'd come for the lives of the other crews, and he'd had him spread the word to the members of the crew.

"The truth," Gasper smiled. "You already know it, and so do they, but you refuse to believe yourselves. You'll all sleep better when you hear it from me. Gather the men."

Erick gazed at him, obviously harboring some misgivings, but in the end he resigned himself and nodded. "Yes, chief." He got to his feet and left the cabin.

"You'll have to do it right," Master Rudolf said, taking off his mask.

"I don't believe there is a right and wrong way to do it" Gasper said, shaking his head. He didn't know how the men would take his speech. They were on the edge, and Erick had told him that some were already thinking of deserting. He didn't know where they would go, but he couldn't let them form a new crew. He didn't want the cycle beginning again, and he didn't want to give the Viscount reason to lost trust in him.

The old steward smiled at him, as if looking at a child about to touch a pot of boiling water. "There is always wrong and right, Gasper, and more often than not, people choose the wrong method to handle their affairs."

"And what is the right way?"

"It's the simplest, but also the easiest to miss," Master Rudolf said. "Those men joined you because they wanted a better life. And they want to leave you because you bring them a risk of death. Simply waving away the risks won't be enough. They are already ignorant of what is to come. You have to remove their fears and entice their needs."

Gasper scratched his chin in thought. He didn't know of a way to do both those things without throwing lies, or at least assumptions, at those men outside. He did know that the Viscount needed his men and wouldn't kill them for no reason. They couldn't simply be disbanded as they would likely resort to banditry elsewhere in the basin, but they could be put to good use should the Viscount need them.

A few hasty knocks fell on the door. Master Rudolf put his mask back onthen Erick entered. "I've commanded for everyone to gather outside, chief. They should all be there by the time you're ready to come out."

Gasper nodded and waved him out. He took a few moments to breathe then stood up. If everything went well, his men would stay, and the crew would grow stable again. If things went badly, a lot of his men would leave, and perhaps he would have to slaughter them himself. But what he had to avoid the most was everything going the worst it could go. If his men grew too volatile or desperate, believing that they would die, they could attempt to take him with them. He certainly didn't want to die in a bandit camp.

He saw Master Rudolf nod to him reassuringly. He nodded back and strode to the door. He opened it and stepped outside.

Men crowded each other for room around the cabin. The middle of the camp wasn't wide enough for 2000 men to stand. He was certain that there were many who wouldn't hear them, but his words would quickly spread through the crowd.

Erick who stood in front of him stepped back and nodded to him.

Gasper looked back at the cabin then grabbed the ledge of its roof. He easily pulled himself up and climbed on top of it swiftly.

On top of the cabin, he looked down on his men, their restlessness apparent in their inability to stand still. Each man he looked at was either crowding their neighbor for space or simply swinging from side to side, anxious.

He cleared his throat then spoke with a resounding voice. "Many of you have followed me since the birth of this crew. We've not been through many battles, but we have had our fair share. One thing that brings all the battles we've been through together is the lack of a defeat." He paused for the words to sink into their heads. "We've never faced an utter defeat. Those who've been in this basin for years were wiped out, but we weren't. Luwin's men, mercenaries, better trained and more experienced still died at the hands of the Viscount. No one was invulnerable to death, except us." He grew silent again, giving himself room to breathe.

"We have survived," he continued. "You have survived . . . because you followed me. Because you followed the Viscount."

The crowd erupted into mass chattering. Stray murmurs were thrown from side to side. No one faulted him aloud, and for a moment he was thankful that he had arranged for the death of the most outspoken ones in his crew under the hooves of the Viscount's cavalry.

"That is why . . . " he said, the chattering slowly dying down after his words. "That is why you should have faith in me, and in the Viscount. You live because you serve him. And you'll stay alive as long as you keep serving him."

He watched the anxiety among his men slightly fade away. His words had relaxed them a little, but not enough. He had to push them a bit more. He had to give them purpose. "When you came to me, most of you were homeless, coinless, and nearly without enough rags to cover your bodies. Under my command, you've been fed and you've held coin again after years of poverty. You live well now."

Some of the men nodded, faint smiles on their faces. Others stayed silent, waiting to hear more.

"And you will live even better if you continue to serve the Viscount," Gasper said, a commanding depth to his voice. "Do you not understand what has become you, you fools?" He guffawed. "You have stepped up in the world, from brigands whose lives are worth nothing to men who serve a noble Lord. You no longer have to fear the sword of a noble chasing you for bearing a blade without their name. You no longer need to sleep with uncertainty of your survival in the days to come. No matter what happens, you serve a Lord. You will never be abandoned."

A few laughs erupted among the crowd, and as if they'd given way to a flood, more guffaws erupted until the whole crew was in cheers, drowning their fears with the promises they very much wanted to believe.

Gasper pressed his lips, unsure if half of what he'd promised these men was true. He hoped it was, but he was uncertain. He was certain of one thing though; he had to keep all of this crew under his command, and the words he'd just said were the only way to achieve that.

Chapter 61

Chapter 61

Gerald was in his study. In front of him sat Robard and Arthur. They'd just arrived a few moments ago. He pointed at the open window behind him. "Merchants are beginning to arrive in Ard. I trust this will be in the territory's interest."

"Indeed, my lord," Arthur said, a smile plastered on his face. "The small market within the walls is coming to life again. There are not enough merchants for the tariffs to enrich the treasury, but I believe that within one or two months the merchants will be coming in droves."

"None have asked for passage to the north yet, yes?" Gerald said.

"None yet, my lord," Arthur said. "It's too early. It will take merchant guilds a considerable amount of time to arrange for a trade route between Maric and Andross. Sending a caravan to the Empire's lands right after the Viscounty became ready for trade was never within expectations."

Gerald nodded. "Hmm. You were in a hurry to tell me something when you first arrived. Did anything happened?"

"Ah," Arthur tapped his forehead. "There is good news, my lord."

Gerald liked the sound of his minister's words. Instead of hearing about bandits all day, good news was finally coming to his door without much effort. "I would like to hear it," he said.

Arthur carried an apologetic smile and said," and there is also bad news, my lord."

Gerald's smiled twitched and he replied, "I would have to hear it."

"The good is that the wealth earned from Grina's properties is enough to compensate for the the damage of the recent battles. There is also an excess. We have a certain amount of gold remain—"

"Just use what's remained to make an acceptable military camp of the fort in the south," Gerald said interrupting him. He'd found a reason not to tear it down after wiping out the bandits. "We can use it when we need, I suppose. It would make a good place for Lucas's men should we need to move him away from Ard."

"Very well," Arthur nodded. Then he leaned forward. "Ahem. The other news is that Renard has returned, my lord."

Gerald snorted. "I didn't expect him to stay in the mines for eternity."

Arthur shook his head. "That's not all, my lord. He's also sent a bird."

Gerald grew silent. Along their journey from the Duke's lands to the Viscounty, it hadn't been difficult for Renard to bring a few Zagel birds that could be sent back with brief letters. Usually, such birds would be brought from an ally's territory to make it easier to send short letters. They were costly to raise and difficult to maintain. Right now, only the Royal Capital's birds were in Ard. But Renard had brought some from the Malfi Duchy, and he had brought a caretaker for them, posing as a servant. This was never a secret. Gerald was aware of all of it since they'd arrived. He just didn't expect him to act so soon. He'd just returned today, and he'd already read the recent events and realized that trade would return to the north soon. The Duke would very soon be aware of what had recently happened in the Viscounty. Renard wouldn't have to write much in his letter, simply that the Viscounty was rid of most if not all of its bandits.

"The Duke would have found out sooner or later," he said. It was inevitable that his sister would be used against him. He had to bear with it until he had enough power to negotiate on even grounds. "Perhaps I can delay his demands using Gasper."

Robard cleared his throat and frowned. "The soldiers have been asking questions, my lord. Not only about Lucas's men, but also about the crew they have fought beside and eventually let go. There are a lot of puzzled voices rising among the men. We're fortunate that your lordship's family members have been isolated. They would have been the most capable of asking questions without fear at a time like this."

"The men's questions will soon be answered, but we need some time," Gerald said. "Regarding my family." He glanced at Arthur. "How is the garrison faring?"

"Your commands have been heeded, my lord," Arthur said. "Old Han is almost done retiring all of your family members from the garrison. They didn't get a chance to resist." He looked at Robard. "Their counterparts in the army have not had the time nor the freedom to interfere."

Gerald nodded with a satisfied smile. His family members would still have some power in Ard after this. They were everywhere; in the castle's trade, in his keep, and many of them were even working under Arthur. They had a lot of power, but if he succeeded in removing them from the army and the garrison, he would not have to worry about any resistance from them later. He could easily strip them of their influence in Ard during the coming year. Any influence needed the backing of a blade, after all. He made use of Grina's attempted rebellion as a justified excuse for what was being done.

"Ah," Arthur rubbed his forehead. Gerald only now noticed his minister's red eyes. It appeared that he hadn't slept well last night. "I've remembered something, my lord," the old minister said. "Those who served Grina have all been tried and either imprisoned or executed. Their families are supposed to share their punishment. They've betrayed their Lord, after all. I have been wondering how you'd like to sentence their families, my lord."

Gerald thought of the traitors' families and the memory of his sister seeing him off at Malfi city's gate flitted across his mind. Something gripped his heart, a faint hint of fear perhaps. Lena was his only family, the only family he truly knew. He hoped he could see her again in the near future. "Their families have done nothing . . . " he said, unconvinced of his own words. He had sentenced Estor to be guilty by sippenhaft recently. But, he told himself, that was something else. "Let their families be. If any of them are too wealthy for their own good, you know what to do. But other than that, there is no need to harm their families. Simply keep an eye on them."

Arthur looked puzzled but he eventually nodded.

"What should concern us right now are the refugees on the outskirts of Ard," Gerald said, moving to another matter. "I don't want a slum eventually emerging outside of the walls." Since he'd arrived, he'd had the weight of thousands of refugees on his mind. The overcrowded and underfed people outside of his walls were like a wound that would soon fester. He didn't want to wait until it became too dire of a problem. Ard was already crowded as it was. There would never be enough resources for the thousands of idle mouths that waited outside. He had enough idle ones within the walls..

"We could chase them away, my lord," Robard said. His suggestion was what most Lords did when they faced a similar problem. "It would be hard to chase them back the way they came. But we could herd them towards the north and deliver the Duke a kind gift." The head knight smirked unlike his usual self.

"If I may suggest otherwise, my lord," Arthur quickly said. "We might be able to move the refugees to another part of the basin where they may be of use."

"Which part?" Gerald raised his brows. The basin's villages already had their dwellers, and the abandoned hamlets and farmsteads would soon be inhabited again by the peasants who'd escaped to Ard. There were also not many mines to dig through with the immense labor the refugees could provide. Even the bandits he'd recently captured were crowding his dungeons. The single mine the territory had was already filled with laboring prisoners.

"The burned patch of land, my lord," Arthur smiled. "The Torching of the forest was more unfortunate than it was fortunate, but it has still brought us an opportunity. The village that was northeast of the forest used to receive its water from a stream that came down from a lake north of the forest. The lake isn't very large, but it never dries, my lord. Winter or summer, it never grows shallow. It is fed by numerous streams of water that descend from the mountain range in the west. And many streams come out of the lake itself as well."

"Why haven't these streams been used then?" Gerald cocked his head. He'd never been to the forest himself, and he hadn't seen the ruined village or the lake Arthur spoke of.

"All but one poured into the forest, my lord." Arthur's words explained his intentions.

Gerald leaned back into his chair, frowning in contemplation. "With enough labor, the burned forest could be turned into arable land," he pondered aloud. He knew that was what his minister was suggesting. He could use the idle to prepare the land for planting, and then he could move the refugees there to farm it. Most of them were farmers who'd escaped the flames of war, after all.

"It would cost the treasury a considerable amount, my lord," Arthur continued. "But we don't need to cultivate too wide an expanse of land. We could begin with enough land to make busy a few thousand men during the coming winter sowing. Perhaps a farming town would eventually emerge in the middle of this piece of land. We only need to clear the land and dig the needed water passages."

Gerald nodded. He fancied the idea. It would remove the weight of the refugees from his shoulders, and it would provide his territory with more crops to sell or store. Perhaps by next year, all of the refugees around Ard would be working the fields where the forest once was. Hopefully, not many more would arrive during the coming months. For the time being, they had stopped pouring from the south. Perhaps the war was coming to an end, or perhaps the two Kingdoms warring were taking some respite. He wasn't certain.

"Begin from tomorrow," he told his minister. "We must have enough land to plant before the summer harvest is reaped. The winter isn't kind to ill-fed men without roofs to cover their heads. I fear that such men may not be kind to my territory when the heavy rains arrive."

"As you command, my lord," Arthur nodded. "I will arrange for the labor beginning tomorrow."

Gerald looked at Robard. "How goes the training of the new recruits?"

Robard bobbed his head in satisfaction. "Very well, my lord. Lucas's methods have been helpful. The results aren't certain yet, but I believe the recruits will be soldiers in a few short months. The half-regiment that was near the southern pass has been summoned back. Training our formations will begin soon."

"Good," Gerald said. For now, he had to have some patience. He would wait for Ard to receive more merchants, and he would wait for the Duke's expected demands to arrive. He also needed to be made more familiar with the neighbors of his territory.

Chapter 62

Chapter 62

Gerald gazed at the distant streets through the study's window. Under the mild heat of day, the streets brimmed with life. The once lifeless paths were now crowded with tradesmen and craftsmen. Merchants had recently begun to pour into Ard in numbers. It was an opportunity for most of them.

It was a place where craftsmen were devoid of work and would accept any price for their wares. With the arrival of the merchants, the idle had more work and more coin. And more coin meant more merchants coming to sell their wares.

The reason Ard was even more crowded with merchants, however, was the preparations some of them were making to commence trade from Maric to Andross. Quite a few merchants had arrived to gain knowledge about the possible tolls and the condition of the roads between the Kingdom and the Empire.

The liveliness in the streets wasn't just because of the merchants though. Work in the scorched land in the west had begun. Men worked on clearing the land where a forest once stood, preparing it for cultivation. Gerald had commanded for the idle men inside of Ard to be given the opportunity first. For simple reasons, he didn't like the thought of numerous young, idle men dawdling within his walls.

Arthur had begun by recruiting the young and able from within Ard, then he'd later moved on to recruiting from the idle refugees outside of the walls. An army of laborers was already clearing the land in the west. Often, groups of them would return to Ard to spend their earned coin or see their families. The distance between the scorched forest and the castle wasn't that large, after all.

There were a few knocks on the door.

Gerald turned around to a large map spread on the table. It showed the basin and its neighboring territories. "You two can enter," he said, his eyes still fixed on the map.

Arthur and Robard entered, saluting.

"Has everything been well?" he asked them.

Robard spoke first. "Yes, my lord. We've done another sweep in the west, wiping out a few more brigands. Their numbers have dwindled to near nothing. We're preparing a sweep in the east next."

Gerald nodded. The bandit crews had been removed, but some escaped bandits had struck out on their own, forming small groups and robbing passersby. The wiser ones had either hidden themselves in the southwestern forest near the mountains or attempted to slip into the crowd of refugees around Ard.

He glanced at Arthur who nodded and began, "clearing the scorched forest is going well, my lord. The land will be ready when it's time to plant the winter grain. The undertaking will cost us from 4 thousand to 5 thousand gold. I suggest that we build a village in the middle of these lands, my lord. If we allow the farmers who will grow crops there to build their houses around this village, it can grow on its own. We won't have to worry about their accommodation."

"How much will it cost us?" Gerald moved his eyes to the western part of the basin on the map. A small forest was drawn there, one which would have to be removed from all maps soon.

"Two thousand gold at most," Arthur said.

Gerald nodded. "Do it then." Then he narrowed his eyes, remembering a problem. "How will refugees plant those lands? I doubt they will have the coin to do so. Even if we've prepared the land for them."

Arthur nodded with a troubled expression. "There are several ways for it to happen, my lord. The ones making gold through the current labor would be able to afford planting a small piece of land, considering that many have begun laboring as a family. If a family has a father and two sons, their labor can provide enough coin for planting a piece of land. The farmers could also borrow from money-lending merchants. The loans would be paid upon harvest. There is also the least likable choice . . . "

Gerald moved his eyes from the map to his minister quizzically. "Speak."

"We could lend them the gold ourselves. But unlike the merchants, we won't be receiving any interest, lest it slights your honor. It would be a weight on our treasury without any benefits, and we're already expending a considerable amount of gold on this undertaking, my lord. There is also the problem of repayment. If something happens to the harvest like a storm or any other unfortunate event, we would have to shoulder the weight of the wasted gold, since the farmers won't have anything to pay us back with."

Gerald tapped the table a few times. "What would happen if they can't pay back the merchants' loans?"

Arthur appeared to be thinking then grimaced for a moment. "The most common result is slavery, my lord. The King hasn't outlawed it, so it will be allowed or disallowed by your command. The merchants would sell those who owe them gold as slaves. They will likely be shipped to the United Archipelago to be sold there. But, if you outlaw the slavery in the territory, then you might be accused of swindling the merchants out of their gold, my lord. There is always labor to pay back the loans, but with how many debtors there will be, it would be wasteful for the merchants."

Gerald sneered. "The merchants know how to get their gold." He glanced at the map again. The farmers would have to pay him half their harvest as a tax, and then they would have to pay their debts. He didn't mind them being modestly poor, but he didn't want starving farmers in his lands because of merchants' greed. The interest some merchants demanded was nothing short of robbery. "Give land to those who can afford to cultivate it first. Then use gold from the treasury to lend those who can't."

"How much will we lend, my lord?"

"Enough so that by the end of the winter harvest we can feed everyone including the refugees without having to deplete our granaries. After ensuring that we won't starve, if there are even more people who want to farm, let them borrow from the merchants," Gerald said. He tapped on the map. "Now let's begin."

"Yes, my lord," Arthur nodded and approached the map.

"Let's begin from the south."

"As you wish, my lord. The southern pass of the basin touches the borders of two Counties and an alliance of Baronies. To the southeast lies Count Eryale's territory, and we have no ties with him. Straight south are the Baronies. Small territories rules by allied Barons who have lately been getting wealthier and wealthier. They are not weak though. They have been strong enough to deter the two Counties bordering them from getting greedy."

"What makes them so wealthy?"

Arthur cleared his throat. "Two things, my lord. The first being Mountpie. It is the richest mining area in the northern half of the Kingdom. Even though it doesn't contain any gold mines, the sheer amount of silver and copper mined there every day would make even Kings look twice. The second source of their wealth is the bridge."

"Bridge?" Gerald looked at the map, seeing the river cutting through the breadth of the Kingdom, originating from the Wild Plains in the east and ending at The Sleeping Sea in the west. The Baronies were north of the river, but they had a wider territory than the neighboring Counties. The two Counties southwest and southeast of the basin were each cut through by the river. He estimated that each County only had a third of its territory north of the river, while the rest was south of it.

"The shallowest part of the Qasm River is here, my lord," Arthur tapped his finger on the river at the part south of the Baronies. "It's the only place where there is a bridge. Merchants have to pass over it, as well as almost anyone who wants to cross the river. The only other way to cross it is by boat or ferry. The two Counties would often use boats to move their subjects or goods across the river, but it's very slow. Merchants would never consider it. That is why the bridge is a gold mine of its own."

Gerald nodded in understanding. "Where exactly is Mountpie then?"

Arthur pointed in the middle of the Baronies. "Most of the baronies have a part of Mountpie in their territory. The ones that don't are those that border the two Counties. They are considered the shields of the alliance, so they raise the most men and have built several forts on their borders. The alliance guarantees them a share of the coin from Mountpie and the bridge." The old minister took a breath then looked at Gerald. "I should mention that we have received a rider from the Baronies yesterday, my lord."

"What did they want?" Gerald cocked his head.

"Trade. Some of our craftsmen need copper. And the Baronies need grain. The land north of the Qasm River is mostly barren, except for the bank of the river itself. The Baronies always need grain, my lord."

Gerald nodded. "This means they don't have forests either. We will have to buy wood from the north in end." He sighed. One of the largest forests of the subcontinent was north of the basin, separating most of Duke Malfi's territory from the a neighboring Count's lands. He didn't want to buy his timber from the north though, because he would likely have to buy it from the Duke.

Arthur smiled wryly. "They buy timber too, my lord. Just like we intend to. The Baronies' rider informed us that an envoy will be arriving in a few days. I can handle the negotiation if you don't want to meet the envoy, my lord."

Gerald nodded. If the envoy had words of importance to deliver, then he would listen to them; otherwise, it wasn't worth wasting his time. "Let's continue then."

Arthur nodded. He pointed southwest of the basin. "This is the Westwell territory. Count Alaric Westwell rules after his late father. After his father passed, he abandoned the alliance that tied us."

Gerald squinted, remembering something. "Ah, yes. You said that he bought a mine in the southern pass from my father." He rested his finger on the southern pass.

Arthur pointed at a spot of the southern pass that touches the border of the Westwell territory. "The mine is here, my lord."

"Hmm," Gerald squinted. "That's barely in our territory. It isn't rare for conflicts to spark because of a mine like this." He knew that it was only an iron mine, but it was still a much needed resource for any Lord. It was always better to have your own iron for your armor and arms instead of buying it from another noble or from merchants. Conflict with your source of iron could put you at risk, after all.

Arthur fidgeted at his words, his face paling slightly.

"Is something the matter?" Gerald gazed at his minister whose eyes avoided his a time or two.

"Nothing, my lord."

He glanced at Robard who was obviously fuming, seemingly holding something in and on the verge of blowing it out. He questioned the knight with his stare, and the latter finally said the words.

"The mine wasn't truly bought, my lord."

Chapter 63

Chapter 63

Gerald watched as Arthur gave the knight a reproachful glance. "It was bought, my lord. Simply, Count Westwell only had to pay a third of the price."

Robard snorted. "Certainly less than a third."

Arthur glanced at him again, this time his gaze sharper.

Gerald fixed a weighty stare on his minister. "Speak, Arthur."

The old minister nodded with a resigned frown. "When the Viscounty weakened. Count Westwell took hold of the mine. There were no troops to resist him near the mine back then. It was newly discovered and we hadn't begun mining it yet." He glanced at the knight beside him. "Robard asked your father to allow him to lead the troops and liberate the mine. The Count was likely testing us, and if we moved troops towards the mine, he would let it go. Your father agreed. When Robard arrived he was greeted with the Count's troops which outnumbered ours. The two armies stood off near the mine. A few days later, your father and the Count met near there. Count Westwell ended up forcing your father's hand. The mine was sold for much less than its worth."

"So there was no battle?" Gerald frowned.

Arthur shook his head. "A battle would have been too costly. Count Westwell seemed adamant, and I believe he would have taken the chance to cripple our army. He has been trying to grow his power for a while now. Your father likely didn't want to leave the outskirts of Ard defenseless. Going to battle against Count Westwell would have weakened the Viscounty even more than it was already weakened."

Gerald nodded, his teeth discreetly gritted. He hadn't even been here, but it angered him that they were robbed of the mine. He needed it now. It would have been a boon to the territory's growth.

"That was many years ago. The mine's almost dried by now, my lord," Arthur said after a short pause. "It wasn't that large to begin with."

"Very well," Gerald said. He knew his minister was dissuading him from going after the mine "Let's continue." He would have to prepare himself for future encounters with the rabid Count though. It seemed that old alliances meant nothing to him.

Arthur sighed then returned to the map. "Count Alaric Westwell borders the basin from the southwest. West of his territory is The Sleeping Sea. But only the northern part of his territory borders the sea. South of the river, he is separated from the sea by a Viscounty which he is in conflict with. As you can see, my lord, only a third of his territory is north of the river. The city where his house takes root is south of the river. The northern part of his territory, being barren, is used for producing small amounts of salt, fishing, and rare maritime trade. Maleh, a seaside town, is the heart of the latter two. Recently, the Count has also been prospecting his northern borders for mines. It began when he found our mine. Since then he's been scouring the mountain range for more."

"Anything else?" Gerald said.

Arthur shook his head. "Count Eryale's territory," he pointed at the County southeast of the basin, "borders the Wild Plains to the east. Sometimes he has to withstand raids from the wild tribes. But also, his territory borders the Wild Plains north of the river only. South of the river he is separated from the Plains by several Baronies." He slid his hand towards the northern pass. "Next would be the north, my lord, which I imagine you are more knowledgeable of."

Gerald nodded. He pointed at the forest north of the basin. "Like a very thick wall, the forest separates the two territories north of the basin. Duke Malfi's territory is to the northeast and Count Herwald's territory is to the northwest. The two are at odds, but the Duke cannot act against the Count because the latter has ties with the Imperial family of Andross."

"Can we not buy the timber from this Count?" Arthur asked.

Gerald pursed his lips in thought. "I'm not certain. It will depend on how things go with the Duke. Trading with his rival might draw his ire, and I don't intend to risk my sister's well-being. It's too early to tell though." He returned his eyes which had strayed to the map. "West of Count Herwald's territory is The Sleeping Sea. Unlike Count Westwell in the southwest, Count Herwald's territory isn't separated from the sea at any part. His lands thrive on maritime trade, and he has a lot of power over the general trade in the south of Andross, which is one of the reasons he's at odds with the Duke."

"He could make a valuable ally should your lordship contend with the Duke," Robard pointed out.

Gerald shook his head. "The only thing that ties me to the Duke is Lena. Otherwise, there is nothing to contend over. I don't have enough strength to battle him in any case. And I'm no fool to start a war between Maric and Andross because of my conflict with him. Any military conflict between us could spark such a war overnight. We'd be the first to suffer during a war. That's why the King cares for us as little as he cares for his stallion's shit. There are very few things we can do to harm the Kingdom without harming ourselves."

Arthur nodded. While Robard simply grew silent.

A few hasty knocks fell on the door. Gerald instantly recognized them as his attendant's, Harrid's, anxious knocks. "Come in."

The boy stepped in, grimacing as if someone had just screamed in his face.

"What has you so riled up?"

"Master Renard is without, my lord. He wants to see you. Says it's a matter of utmost urgency."

Gerald pressed his lips. He didn't expect the moment to come now, but no one would wait for him. "Let him in."

A moment and his minister of the left entered wearing a triumphant smirk, akin to a trainee who'd sunk his first ever arrow in the archery target. "The Duke sends his regards to the Viscount."

Renard's words made everyone in the study frown except himself. He widened his smile and bowed slightly. "The Duke has sent word, my lord."

"And you speak for him?" Gerald cocked his head, his two hands resting on the table.

"Indeed I do," Renard nodded, producing a small piece of parchment rolled tight enough to be carried by a bird.

"I seem to forget," Gerald chortled. "Whose minister are you?"

"Let's forsake the jests, your lordship," Renard tilted his head with a feigned kind smile. "Every man in this room knows who I serve. You have not neglected to mention it several times yourself in recent times. I know who I serve, and I will serve well. I hope you will listen to the Duke's demands."

Gerald abandoned his smile and sharpened his gaze, waiting for Renard's words.

"The Duke demands that your lordship maintain the roads and prepare them for northward trade," Renard began, clearing his throat and raising his chin in the middle of his speech. "The Duke demands that you allow no trade to pass unto lands other than his own. That is to not allow the merchants to venture into Count Herwald's territory." Renard met Gerald's eyes and narrowed his own in a deep smile. "The Duke demands that you adhere to his arrangements for the toll of passage. He will set his toll first, and then you may set yours."

Gerald's mouth twitched, while Robard was already red with fury. Arthur wore a helpless expression, glancing at him as if in pity.

"I'm afraid trade will have to be delayed," Gerald said. "There are still bandits to the north. A crew still stands. My men have just informed me of this matter."

Renard chuckled, swinging his shoulders with his laughter as if he'd just heard the finest jest. "Surely, surely, you don't intend to fool your good minister here, your lordship. I presume you're speaking of the crew under your command? Perhaps you should command them to remove themselves?" He laughed again.

Gerald's face fell. It was a weak attempt, but he was hoping to earn himself some time with it. He'd known very well that it was likely for Renard to be already aware of his command over Gasper's crew.

"I wonder why your lordship would play such games with the Duke," Renard shook his head, feigning helplessness. "Could it be that you care not for the well-being of your gentle sister? Oh, what a tragedy would it be should any harm come to her."

"Know your place!" Robard yelled, his grip tightening on his sheathed sword.

Gerald's teeth were gritted for the second time today. This time grinding against each other. But outside, there was a smile. One which a man would spare for a dear friend of his. He extended his hand to receive the short letter. "I will adhere to the Duke's demands. I wouldn't want to ruin the goodwill between us, after all."

Renard nodded and handed him the letter. "That is most wise of your lordship."

"You may leave," Gerald said. He watched as the Duke's rat left the study. A painful knife jabbed his heart as he remembered Lena with her sweet smile. It was difficult to describe, why he cared for her. More than anything else, he believed her to be the only person aside from Uncle Rudolf to truly care for him from the heart. In a city of enemies, she was the one flicker that kept him hoping. Hoping that he would see her today, tomorrow, or the day after that. Those were his thoughts often when he lived in Malfi city.

There was no consolation like that which he received from her after each bout of humiliation he'd received in that palace. Uncle Rudolf would teach him while she would soothe him with a kind smile.

He read the letter, a silent determination in his heart. He would bring her back someday. The Duke's most important demand was for his toll to be set first before the Viscounty's. While that would sound simple to a commoner, it meant a lot, specially with the trade route limited to the Duke's lands only. The Duke would set a very high toll, while the Viscounty would be forced to set a very low toll so as not to drive away the merchants. No trader would pay a toll higher than their profit, after all. Gerald estimated that the toll his territory was going to collect would hardly be enough to even maintain the road from the southern pass to the northern pass. But he couldn't halt the trade for any reason now; otherwise, the Duke might vent his anger on Lena

He rested the letter on the table and glanced at the half-open door through which Renard had left, remembering his veiled threat. The feeling it brought him was a blend of weakness and loathsome pity for himself. He looked at Arthur. "Did my father have to live with this?"

"Every day and every night."

"I want to visit him."

Chapter 64

Chapter 64

Gerald and Arthur arrived at the cemetery behind the keep. At the gate, Gerald bowed slightly towards the entrance, while Arthur bowed deeply. Most of his ancestors were buried within, and all of them had a soul statue built in their honor. Only nobles had the luxury of burial in a place like this. Commoners mostly resorted to burning their dead in modest ceremonies.

After paying their respects at the entrance, they entered the burial grounds under the mild sun of afternoon. Gerald stepped on the slightly bright dirt, apparently mixed with something like sand. His gaze fell on the myriad of different statues spread around the grounds. Each depicting a mythical beast that represented the dead. In the honor of each head of House Tellus, a beast was sculpted to stand for their nature during their life.

Slowly, he began to traverse the passages lined by statues on both sides. Arthur made sure not to overstep him, but he was the one actually leading, since Gerald had never been here. He'd never visited his father before.

Flying wolves, monstrous snakes, fanged bulls, and other beasts adorned the grounds, each representing an ancestor's life. After passing by over two dozen statues, Arthur stopped and Gerald did the same. He saw his ministere gaze at the statue to his left with shaking lips and dazed eyes. Gerald turned to the statue and gazed at it. It was his father's.

His father's beast was a bird akin to a phoenix. Only, its head wasn't visible as its wings curled around its body, covering most of it including its head.

"That's what the sculptor made when we told him about your father's last years," Arthur muttered.

Gerald heard him gulp with painful difficulty.

Arthur continued, "I wish I could have told the sculptor about your father's years before the war. But the truth is," the old minister stifled the wetness that hovered over his eyes, "I could hardly remember him of back then. The memories get blurrier with each day, I reckon." He smiled wryly. "I wish he'd simply spoken to me during his last days." His gaze moved from the statue to Gerald. "Ah, forgive me. I've lost my bearings. I shall leave now."

"Fret not," Gerald said. "When Lucas arrives, send him to me right away."

Arthur nodded and headed back the way they'd come.

Gerald lowered himself into a sitting kneel and stared at the statue made from rough, grey stone. His eyes moved from above to below, finally resting on the small platform that carried the statue. On it, his father's name was written, Fulmen Tellus. The name he'd never uttered since he'd been taken from the Viscounty.

"It seems that I've underestimated that which weighed upon your shoulders, father," he said. "Yet I cannot forgive you." He grew silent, gnawing at his tongue. "We paid for your faults. And here we still pay."

A breeze came about, scattering some dust, but the well-set dirt stayed level around him. As his hair floated with the breeze and rested after it, his eyes sharpened. He stared at the wings that covered the phoenix's face. "You should have fought the world for us!" Gritting his teeth, he continued, "you were too weak . . . I won't be the same." His fists tightened, balled up above his knees. "I won't forgive you," he whispered. "But I won't forgive them either. There will come a day when I will bring back Lena, and then there will be a reckoning."

As he said the last words, he heard a boot stepping on the dirt behind him. He looked back and stared at Lucas with a side eye. The knight was in his steel armor, apparently bemused.

Feeling Gerald's stare, Lucas spoke. "I wish I could return to the Duchy and speak to the late Duke." He smiled. "I believe he watches over me and my men as we fulfill our duty to him. It was what kept me going at times." He shifted his eyes between Gerald and the statue.

"I don't need a delusion to keep me going," Gerald said after understanding the knight's implication.

"Oh, but we all do," Lucas maintained his smile. "It's our belief in that which is not real that keeps us going, your lordship. If we don't believe that there is something out there beyond our imagination, our hearts and minds would lose all hope, and our lives would soon follow."

Gerald didn't respond. He turned his eyes back to the statue, as if signing a silent pact with it. He breathed in and closed his eyes momentarily. Then he resolved himself to take it as slowly as was needed. "Your experience," he said. "Would it allow you to train two thousand men?"

Without his eyes actually witnessing it, he saw Lucas's quizzical tilt of head behind him.

"It would, but why, your lordship?" Lucas said, his voice trailing off at the end, as if he'd begun to realize what Gerald wanted of him.

"I will be sending word to Gasper," Gerald said. He looked back at the knight again, meeting his eye. "I will have him hand you his men. You are to train them. I want them soldiers instead of brigands within a few months."

Lucas frowned. "I believe I'm capable of it, but . . . "

"Worry not," Gerald chortled. "I will take care of Frederick. Your absence will make him only safer. People ask questions about you and the men you've brought. No one asks about my young squire. You can take your men and await Gasper in the fortress in the south."

Lucas was silent, his lips pressed and his eyes venturing afar. He seemed to be wrestling with his hesitation. Then his eyes finally settled. He nodded. "I will do as you wish. moulding them into soldiers will not be hard, I believe."

"They will outnumber you two to one," Gerald said. "Are you certain you will be able to keep your hold on them without incident?"

Lucas snorted, his contempt unhidden. "Those rabble are the least of my worries. But we will need equipment and grain, your lordship."

"You shall get both. And you shall receive five thousand gold as well. My new soldiers will receive wages just like the old ones." If he wanted their loyalty, he would need to at least pay them.

Lucas nodded.

Soon, the knight left, and Gerald got to his feet and left the grounds. He met Arthur at the cemetery's gates. He told him to prepare the gold, goods, and equipment for Lucas.

"My lord," Arthur said, his face ashen. "Two thousand men, and one more thousand that are Lucas's men. That's three thousand more men for the Viscounty to support. The expenses are too much to bear."

"We have enough gold in the treasury for now, Arthur," Gerald said. "By next year, the basin's circumstances will be different. The refugees and the scorched forest we're cultivating are proof of that."

ß--------------------------------------------à

Gasper laid the letter on the table, his eyes falling on Master Rudolf who sat unmasked. "Should we move before dark today?"

Master Rudolf rubbed his chin for a moment then nodded. "It's better that we make haste."

Gasper couldn't help but let a smile creep onto his face. The letter had arrived at daybreak. The Viscount commanded them to lead the two thousand men to the southern fortress and leave them there for Lucas to train.

He would finally return to Ard and see his father after this. Perhaps the Viscount would also reward him? He wasn't certain, but he was glad to be rid of the brigand life.

It was still early before noon, and he had plenty of time to prepare his men.

He summoned Erick and commanded him to gather the men before noon. He needed to speak to them again. He would persuade them to fall under the command of Lucas without a commotion, so that they could be trained and paid. Otherwise, they could always fall under a blade for desertion.

..

Before noon, Erick had gathered the men in the middle of the camp like last time. Gasper walked out of his cabin to the same crowd that he'd roused before. He climbed to the top of the cabin again.

There was chatter among the men, which died down as he wandered above the cabin. They stared at him, awaiting his words.

Gasper took a breath then yelled, "rejoice, you fools! You will become the Viscount's soldiers."

There was a moment of utter silence. Perhaps they were contemplating if his announcement was actually a good thing or not, or perhaps they were simply in confusion. He cleared his throat then said, "The Viscount has commanded that you are to be trained under one of his knights." He cringed at the last word. He didn't know how Lucas was supposed to be the Viscount's knight. Had he decided to abandon his old oath and swear a new one that easily? He doubted it. "Since you'll be treated like soldiers, you should also be paid like soldiers. That's why the Viscount has already prepared for your wages to be paid during training."

Some faces brightened at the words. Others looked doubtful.

Unable to gain the response he'd hoped for, Gasper's mouth twitched. He sighed. "We move at noon. Prepare well. You'll see it yourselves." If he couldn't convince them that it was real, he would have to show them. Or Lucas would have to show them. His patience was at its limit. He would dump this horde at the fortress and return to Ard. Knowing that the Viscount was planning to take them as soldiers instead of dispersing them, or worse, was enough to satisfy him. He didn't have to worry about them any longer.

..

.

At noon, Gasper, Master Rudolf, and Erick led two thousand men towards the south. Circling around Ard, they headed to the fortress that had once been home to the Silver crew.

They arrived at the fortress by dusk when light still illuminated the sky.

Gasper spied the fortress from afar. He signaled for a stop then glanced at Erick. "Stay with the men." He rode ahead with Master Rudolf. As they galloped towards the forest, they saw two men riding out to meet them.

The distance between them soon shrank and Gasper saw that the two were Lucas and his lieutenant as he'd expected.

Gasper slowed his horse to a trot then came to a stop, and Master Rudolf followed similarly.

Lucas and his lieutenant also came to a stop.

They stared at each other for a few moments. Gasper was expressionless, and he stared at the icy faces of Lucas and his lieutenant. They didn't exude any friendliness. It was quite the odd standing they were now at. They had schemed against each other, and now fate had brought them to the same side.

Three wooden faces stared at each other, and one literally copper face didn't look at anyone in particular. Master Rudolf didn't seem affected by the tense air around him. He just gazed ahead as he always did.

Gasper's eyes met Lucas's, and their stares sharpened. They wrestled each other with their stares for a few moments, then Gasper couldn’t help but let out a stifled snigger. As if he'd triggered an avalanche, a suppressed chuckle came out of Lucas's lieutenant. Then a twitching smile appeared on the knight's face as well. His lieutenant couldn't hold it any longer and burst into laughter forcing Lucas to burst into laughter as well.

Gasper found himself guffawing like a drunk bear hunter. The three of them laughed like fools for a while then the laughter gradually died down.

"Erick will help you control the men," Gasper said as he gazed at his former enemy. "He has been my right hand for a long time. He knows most of the men in the crew, and he will make your task easier."

"You have my thanks."

Gasper nodded. After he signaled for Erick and the men to advance again, he watched as Lucas's lieutenant received them and began to lead them towards the fortress. There were already tents made around the fortress. It seemed that Lucas had prepared for the increase in numbers. The fortress might not be large enough for three thousand men after all.

He and Master Rudolf prepared to leave and Lucas saw them off. As he turned around, Gasper remembered a question that tugged at him. "Lucas."

"Yes?" Lucas who'd also half turned around with his horse looked back at him.

"How did you know?" Gasper asked. He wanted to know what had made Lucas suspicious. He knew that the knight understood his question.

Lucas chuckled. "You came out of nowhere. Nothing comes out of nowhere. Even the filth that were the chiefs each had their own history. You're the only one who had no history to boast. It's unlike a bandit chief not to boast about their bloody past. That made me suspicious."

"I see," Gasper nodded and pulled the reins to his horse, preparing to leave.

"And," Lucas continued.

Gasper stopped in his tracks and turned back again, throwing the knight a quizzical look.

"Your men were obviously all refugees. Any refugee that can craft as little as a chair leg is scooped by the nobles in the south," Lucas smirked at him. "When you offered to build the ladders for our assault, my suspicions were ascertained. Next time, think well before lying. Deception is hard work." After saying that, the knight turned his horse around and trotted towards the fortress.

Chapter 65

Chapter 65

Gerald grabbed an apple from the stall on the side of the street. He swiveled it in his hand, a mix of yellow and red, bulgy on one side more than the other. "Where do the apples come from?" he asked Arthur.

The old minister was wearing a green woolen robe that would strike any passerby as negligibly rugged, and his head was covered with a loose part of the robe. He glanced at the stall and said, "I believe those are grown in the basin, my lord."

Huh. Gerald brought the apple closer to his face, scrutinizing it. "I didn't know we had orchards in the basin."

"We do, my lord. Not many, however."

He nodded and placed the apple back in place. He had taken Arthur to visit the streets of his castle with a modest merchant's clothes on him. He wanted to see his bustling streets himself, and they were just as he'd imagined them; crowded and noisy. But they were certainly better than the dying streets that'd greeted him on his arrival from the Malfi Duchi.

He made sure to keep his ears open for news and hearsay. He'd heard many things from merchants between the entwining words of haggling and cursing that filled the streets. Some were planning to return where they came from with their caravans. Others were planning for their routes north. And many were planning to stay and make the best from the current opportunities while they lasted.

He traversed further into the crowds with his minister. As soon as he got to the middle of the street, his ears were caught by some interesting words once more.

"I cannot believe they're back at war after so many years," a gruff old man said. His croaky voice didn't match the luxurious garments he wore.

A younger merchant beside him chortled. "It's not like there is any trade to be had with them. Not with the Damnation Sea and the Wild Plains between us and them."

"If only those damn pirates would relent."

Gerald pulled Arthur aside and mixed with the crowd of bystanders on the side of the road, then he continued listening.

"The Asura continent is cursed by war. If a hundred thousand lives aren't reaped every decade, the lands will cry then dry," the young merchant quipped, the mockery dry in his tone. "The Kings oblige when the land demands for blood, and they go to war, throwing thousands of young men to their final rest."

The old merchant spat on the floor and gave the younger one a glare with his side eye. "A nephew of mine died in one of those wars, you fool. It's not a jesting matter, I tell you. If the sovereigns of the land don't come to their senses and halt this eternal bleeding, war will come for all of us until no one is left."

"War will never end, old man."

The old merchant sighed and shook his head. "I can't believe Aloira is at war. I thought that old King would have taught his son something before he died."

"A good King doesn't always birth a good King, old Leyr. We would all be living in prosperous lands if it was like that. And it's Frika now. Won't you let the past be past? No one calls it Aloira anymore."

"Not since that damn Shrine took root there. I'd wager half my life's gold that they had something to do with the war, and that's only because I don't have the other half at this moment."

"The Empire always finds a way to reach outwards. If they can't march into your lands, they send their priests to your cities. Babylon is always the victor, they say."

"Horseshit is what I say. No one has lost as many wars as they have. In land, They have tried to invade the Quresh alliance for their wealth, and in the end they fled back like dogs after starving in the marshes and thirsting in the deserts. In the sea, the United Archipelago taught them how ships are meant to battle, and the Empire's old fleet rests at the bottom of the Diamond Sea to this day."

Gerald glanced at Arthur as he listened to the two merchants argue.

The old minister had his brows raised in disbelief. "Frika and Gascar are at war again?"

"There is no reason for two conversing merchants to lie to themselves," Gerald whispered.

"No one stands to gain from such a war but Babylon," Arthur said, narrowing eyes.

Gerald nodded. The Babylonians were envied not only for their territory but also for the Imperial Family's power over religion. The Sun Shrine was being used by them to spread their influence in all of the surroundings lands, not just in Frika. Half of the Warring Duchies already embraced The Shining God. On the other side, The United Archipelago fought with pure gold to balance the influence in the Duchies and gain themselves a footing. "It is nothing for us to bother about, Arthur. The War is far away. Neejer and Mali are close by. When they return to war again, we will have to suffer from its implications." Frika and Gascar were southeast of the subcontinent, separated from it by the wide Wild Plains. Riding the seas, one would have to leave the Sleeping Sea and cross the pirate-infested Damnation Sea south of the Wild Plains to reach the shores of Frika.

Arthur nodded. "I understand, my lord. I simply didn't expect such a thing to happen again. Both Kingdoms know what happened last time they went to war."

Gerald chortled. "Yes. Something is odd indeed. Unless they want the Babylon Empire to try to swallow them again, they should be thinking of how to avoid a war. I'm surprised the Adis Kingdom didn't interfere on behalf of peace. If one of them falls, the other two would soon follow. Regardless, let's continue our walk."

"Yes," Arthur said.

They soon left the street and entered another less bustling one. "Arthur," Gerald called, looking at his minister solemnly.

"My lord?"

"There is an undertaking that I have been thinking about."

"My lord, don't we already have our hands full with one in the scorched forest?"

Gerald chuckled and shook his head. "This is something else. You see, Arthur, I believe that my eyes deceived me the first time I came here. I always believed that the refugees are what made Ard crowded. But after most of them left to work in the scorched forest, only the surroundings of Ard became less crowded. The castle is still congested with people, and that's with many of them working in the scorched forest as well."

"Your lordship's forefathers have prepared the castle for this," Arthur said with a reassuring smile.

Gerald shook his head again. "No, no." He knew what Arthur was speaking of. Ard had been expanded twice in the past, until it had become nothing short of a small city. If there was a difference between an ordinary city and Ard, it was the liveliness, the luxury, and the people. "Ard needs to become a city, Arthur. We need to expand beyond these walls, and hopefully build other ones around them too."

"My lord!" Arthur nearly shouted, hardly suppressing his voice. "Such . . . such wishes would need an unimaginable amount of gold to achieve. The scorched land's undertaking is our treasury's extent now."

Gerald sighed. "Don't assume, Arthur. I don't intend to build walls and a city now. We can begin by planning and building the streets for each anticipated city quarter without walls. We could also build a true market expanse in one of those quarters. I saw the market in Malfi City several times, and it proved time and time again that it was the lifeblood of the city. Workshops and craftsmen working day and night. Merchants arriving and departing, unending. Not simply passing by, but there to trade. If we could have a similar market here, you wouldn't have enough room to store the gold."

Arthur seemed conflicted for a moment but he hurriedly shook his head. "But now I have plenty of room, my lord, and not enough gold for expanding Ard into a city. Even if it's just streets and some small constructs."

"We need the market, Arthur. We have an opportunity. The Baronies don't work their copper or silver. We could negotiate with their envoy. We could bring these resources to Ard. And we have iron, even if it's not the best. The castle could become a craftsman's paradise if we could bring so many resources here. We could also buy timber, then Ard would lack for nothing. The taxes that came from the workshops in Malfi city, only from the workshops, were unimaginable. We don't need to have the mines to earn the gold. Trade is much more important. That's why Duke Malfi is obsessed with trade and its routes, even though he has two gold mines at his fingertips."

Arthur was shaking his lowered head to no one in particular, a struggle apparent on his face. Both anxious and contemplating, he finally spoke with an enlightened smile. "One quarter."

"Huh?" Gerald cocked his head.

"We don't have to work around Ard from every direction, my lord," Arthur grinned. "You can choose the quarter you want the market and workshops to be in, and we'd work in that direction. We'd set the streets and build some constructs for the market."

Gerald raised a finger and smiled wide. He pointed at his minister. "True. Very true. Then we can begin leasing the land after it's prepared. The treasury would gain a considerable amount from that. And there would be more gold to come from trade."

Arthur nodded.

"How much gold would we need?" Gerald said.

Arthur pressed his lips. "At least five thousand gold, and that's simply to begin, my lord. We will need more later."

"Regardless, begin your preparations once we return. We will begin in the south. The merchants come from that direction, after all. So let's begin with the southern quarter." Gerald rubbed his chin. "This basin will be very different a year from now."

"Yes, my lord."

Gerald heard a few whispers from around the corner. He dragged Arthur and peered towards the whispering merchants. He slipped into their crowd and watched.

"I tell you," a young merchant in blue robes said, keeping his eyes on a man who was easy to recognize as a mercenary. He gestured towards a shortsword with a tint of green to its shine. "My words are a truth that stands time and beyond. This blade was forged with the help of an alchemist. It's forged with poison that will last for years if not eternity. Every part of it is melded with steel and potent poison. Only an alchemist can do such a thing. If you don't believe me, you can attempt to use it." He pointed at three deer chained to an iron pole.

"Alchemist?" Arthur widened his eyes, shifting them between the merchant and Gerald.

"I doubt that his words are a truth that would survive a single day," Gerald snorted. "But even if they do, nothing binds me to go after an alchemist-crafted sword. And even if an alchemist was standing here, I wouldn't pursue him without a King peering over me. It's a risk would not take." It was a tragedy, he believed. Alchemists had been hunted down to extinction by Royals and Imperials all over the Asura continent. No one knew why.

He'd heard many hearsay about alchemists, and he'd read a lot about them out of curiosity. He'd spent a lot of his leisure in Malfi City reading, after all. He loved to read about history, and books about alchemists always attracted his interest. It was said that alchemists were the ones to discover the method for forging Highsteel. Not only that, but it was also said that they were the ones that had made the mellowing water that was needed to bend bows. Many other things were rumored to have been discovered by them, like the burning water that treated wounds, and many herbs and remedies that treated illnesses.

He'd read an old book that claimed that alchemists had ruled the continent before the Red Age. And it even claimed that their rise to power preceded The Shattering itself. Not that he believed the night stories of a shattered continent that now rested at the bottom of the seas. The book had said that the Asura continent was named a continent because there was one before it, supposedly to the west. He'd heard the myths, even before reading the book. But what the book told was much more distinct.

Gerald led Arthur towards another street, and as he walked, he spied a familiar young face running from the other end of the street. Harrid.

The boy's eyes were darting from side to side, his head swiveling in every direction.

Gerald waved with his fingers, and the boy's eyes caught sight of him. He ran towards the two of them and arrived, sweaty and panting. "My lord," he bowed. "Sir Robard sent me to tell you that Master Rudolf," he stopped to take a breath, "and—"

"And Gasper?" Gerald said. "They're back in the keep?"

"Yes, my lord. They've returned."

"How did you find us?" Arthur asked, raising a brow.

"I looked everywhere, your Excellency."

Gerald glanced at the boy and chuckled. "Very well. Let us return. I've missed Uncle Rudolf."

Chapter 66

Chapter 66

Gasper stood in a hallway a few steps away from the lord's study. Master Rudolf stood by his side, unmasked, and in steward's attire, which Gasper found quite unfamiliar.

They'd been waiting for a while now. Sir Robard, the head knight had sent someone to inform the lord of their arrival. But it seemed that the Viscount wasn't in the keep.

Gasper clenched his fist and shifted his eyes from the walls to the floor to the doors as he waited.

"Being anxious will serve no end," Master Rudolf patted him on the shoulder.

Gasper forced a smile. "I'm not anxious. I just wish I could know what will be of me after this."

The old steward smiled back and shrugged. "At the very least, you're likely to see your father once again."

Gasper nearly grinned at the thought. The Viscount hadn't allowed him to see his father the last time he'd been in Ard. But now that he had already fulfilled what was needed of him and the bandits were gone, the lord would likely allow him to see his father.

After a few more moments of waiting, he heard steps coming from the end of the hallway. He turned and saw the Viscount walking towards Master Rudolf and embracing him.

The old Steward patted the Viscount on the back with a smile that couldn't be truer.

After that, the Viscount headed towards the study. "Come inside," he told them.

Gasper's knuckles were sweaty. He stepped into the study after Master Rudolf, his eyes shifting between the contents of the study and the lord.

The Viscount took his seat and gazed at the two of them. He nodded to Gasper, and he nodded back.

"The hard times are past," Master Rudolf said.

"Are they?" the Viscount chortled and shook his head.

Master Rudolf cocked his head with an all-knowing smile, as if he'd been interrupted, then he continued, "and harder times are soon to come. That is to be expected if you want these lands to thrive, Gerald."

Gasper raised a brow. He'd never heard someone call the Viscount by his bare name, but then again, he hadn't seen him often enough.

The Viscount sighed. "Indeed, Uncle Rudolf." Then he turned his sights towards Gasper. "And how fare you?"

"I'm well, my lord," Gasper bowed his head, gulping. "I await the next opportunity to serve you."

"You need not worry about such matters right now, Gasper," the Viscount smiled. "You can now return home and rest."

Gasper took a breath. "And there is nothing else, my lord?"

The Viscount kept his smile and shook his head. "You are to return home and rest."

The repetition of the words silenced Gasper. He bowed. "Yes, my lord."

The Viscount nodded for him to leave.

And he left.

..

.

A light breeze caressed his face as he walked down one of Ard's newly graveled streets. It ached him, knowing that his father resided at the end of this quiet street, likely clinging to his patience in silence.

The man who'd sacrificed everything for his only son. And here he was, achieving nothing of what his father had wished for him.

Forgive me.

The breeze settled down, and the boring heat returned. He trod his path step by step, until he found himself staring at his home. A nice two-story house, built with lean, brown timber. It looked the healthiest in the whole street. But only he knew the struggle his father had gone through to keep it. A nice house for a good knight, Gasper, his father had said. The lord's aides won't advise him to knight you if you live in a ruin.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door twice. The same silence permeated the street for a moment, then he heard his father's slow steps approaching the door.

The door opened, and a pale man emerged from within. Streaks of white traversed his dark hair, and a stubble adorned his face. His sleepy eyes widened at the sight of Gasper, then they narrowed again in a pleasant smile.

Gasper stepped forward into his father's embrace. The old man patted his back with arms tightened around his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, father," Gasper muttered.

His father stepped back and smiled. "There is no sorrow to be had in this. There is only joy. You live, my son."

"But—"

His father stopped him with a raised hand. "Come in first." He gestured into the house. "There is much I'd like to hear."

Gasper nodded and entered. They headed towards the small table they had often shared their supper on. Gasper took a seat and looked at his father.

He'd told him about the death of the old Viscount and his escape in the letter he'd sent him. But after that, his father had heard nothing of him.

He began the story from the time he'd sent the letter. He told his father about the Viscount's command and his time as a bandit then as a bandit chief; his ruse that turned Black Dog on Big Mountain; his crew that was built from refugees; his meetings with the other chiefs; and the final battle that erased the mercenaries and the chiefs. He told him about Lucas who joined the Viscount, even though he knew he was likely not supposed to speak about him. And he told him about his last meeting with the Viscount in the keep.

"You've done what you could, Gasper," his father said.

Gasper watched the smile on his father's face, and it tore at him. He'd seen it often enough; the smile that masked sorrow. His father had wanted nothing but for him to step up in the world.

As if he'd seen the doubt on Gasper's face, his father patted him on the arm. "Do not let guilt consume you, Gasper. There is nothing more joyous for me than your survival through it all. And there would have been nothing more sorrowful for me than your death."

"I've lost honor twice, father," Gasper said, tightening his empty fist. "Perhaps death would have been a better friend than I first imagined."

His father grabbed his fist and shook his head. "No. You live another day, son. Another day means another opportunity. Perhaps all I have been was a simple merchant with a humble amount of coin compared to my peers, but son, I know many people who would have welcomed another chance at life when their time came. And they would have made the best of it, I'm certain." He tightened his grip on Gasper's fist. "No matter what, you will have me by your side. We can even travel to somewhere different. Somewhere with a new beginning for you."

Gasper closed his eyes and wondered what he truly wanted, but he couldn't push away the blur that clouded his mind. "I don't know, father."

His father nodded. "You need rest." He glanced at the stairs that led upstairs. "You should rest. Your room has been ready for you since I received the letter."

"Thank you," Gasper uttered, standing up and giving his father a faint smile, the best he could muster. Then he headed to his room. Perhaps some rest was due after all.

Chapter 67

Chapter 67

Gerald sipped his wine from a brass goblet. He gazed at some roses that fluttered with the rare breeze. He was resting in his seat in the keep's gardens, enjoying the peace of mind he'd needed for a while by now.

As he closed his eyes to savor the taste of wine and the smell of roses in the air, he heard hurried steps approaching from behind. He opened his eyes and turned around to see Arthur wearing a wry smile. With reluctance Gerald asked, "What is it, Arthur?"

"My lord," the old minister said. "The Baronies' envoys have arrived."

"Very well," Gerald nodded. "Why aren't you handling the matter on your own like we've agreed then?"

"That . . . my lord." Arthur smiled wryly once more. "They have sent the daughter of Baron Elrite as their representative."

Gerald raised a brow for a moment, then he nodded slowly as he realized the meaning behind it. "I assume she won't be the one negotiating, even though she's their 'representative'."

"Doubtful, my lord. She is here for other reasons," Arthur smirked with his slightly wrinkled cheek.

"If you don't want to give your lord nightmares, don't smirk again, Arthur," Gerald chortled.

Arthur lost the smirk but couldn't hold a chuckle from coming out. "This could be an opportunity, my lord."

"It could be," Gerald said. "But I'm not certain of what I want from the Baronies yet." The Barons had likely had to discuss among themselves which of them would be sending their daughter, since the Baron who did would have the most influence on him if a marriage were to occur. "Now that we aren't the downtrodden Viscounty of the past, they want to be the first to gain our friendship. They have even gone as far as attempting a marriage." He chuckled and closed his eyes for a breath once more.

"One can't fault them for that, my lord," Arthur said.

"One indeed can't," Gerald smiled and opened his eyes. "Send the lady here, and negotiate with whomever they've sent to do the real work."

"Yes, my lord," Arthur bowed and left.

..

It wasn't long before he saw the lady arriving at the gardens with an escort of two maids. She waved for them to leave as she entered.

Gerald observed the young woman who looked like a fragile sculpture crowned with bright-brown, long hair. Her ivory colored gown spread around her as she approached him with purpose.

He stood up and smiled at her.

She smiled back with her thin lips and stopped a few steps away from him, curtsying. "Lord Tellus, it is pleasant to meet you. You have a very beautiful keep." She glanced at the roses.

"Lady Elrite," he nodded. "You have my thanks. It's an honor to have you in my keep."

"Please," she cocked her head with the most appealing smile. "Reya."

"Very well, Lady Reya," he said, politely gesturing for her to walk with him.

"You are still calling me 'lady'," she said as she began to walk.

"Well, you are a lady, after all," he smiled.

She sighed. "I suppose there is no persuading you."

They walked by a small patch of roses, and Reya sniffed the air. A smile drew itself on her face. Likely, she enjoyed the smell as much as he did.

Gerald hadn't decided yet how he was going to handle the disguised proposal that the Baronies were suggesting by sending Reya. She was a beauty, no doubt; with a delicate countenance, narrow shoulders, and a short stature.

Her beauty was of no interest to him though. He thought of what he could gain from an alliance with one of the Baronies. He doubted he could gain any wealth from it. Any friendship between him and the Baronies would likely result in mutual defense against aggression more than anything else. And he didn't like the thought of it. The Baronies were much wealthier than his Viscounty. They were always at risk because of other nobles' greed, while his territory didn't have such a problem. It was true that some had used the weakness of the Viscounty to reap some benefits, but that had been exactly because of the weakness. The Viscounty didn't have any resources that would incite the greed of another Lord, not when they would have to fight Ard's army that didn't have to worry about bandits.

Reya glanced at him and seemed to muster some courage. "I like dancing very much." She blushed. "I haven't had a chance to do it along the way. I was wondering if you would like to be my partner for a dance. Perhaps you can invite your bard to . . . " she trailed off.

Gerald pressed his lips in apology. "I'm afraid we have no bard in the keep. I suppose it's because we have no need for one."

The redness on Reya's cheeks grew deeper and she nodded, trying hide as much of her face as possible by looking away.

Gerald wanted to shake his head. He would have to live with this for a few days, but at least she looked too timid to pester him. Still, it seemed that Baron Elrite had had his daughter trained for the occasion.

ß----------------------------------------à

Harrid swung his training sword again under the mild sun of day. He didn't know how many times he'd swung it since he'd begun. But he'd been told to use this opportunity to train more than usual, since the lord wouldn't be needing him for the day.

As another swing cut through the air, he caught sight of a tall shadow on the other side of the training grounds. When he looked closely, he recognized the old man. He was the one who'd accompanied the lord back when he'd taken him and Yanna to the keep; Master Rudolf.

The old man approached him with steady steps, then he came to a stop in front of him and looked at him solemnly. "How old are you, boy?"

Harrid relaxed his posture and straightened up, watching the old man anxiously. "The lord's physician said that I'm thirteen, Master Rudolf."

"Huh," the old steward rubbed his chin, a faint smile appearing on his lips. "You seem to be close."

"Close?" Harrid tilted his head.

Master Rudolf chuckled and waved his hand. "Don't mind my words. Continue your training."

Harrid nodded and regained his posture once more. He watched the old man turn around and begin walking away, only to stop halfway and turn back around.

"You have talent. . . Harrid, yes?"

"Yes, Master Rudolf," Harrid nodded fervently. "I have talent?"

"Indeed," Master Rudolf said. He approached and flicked both of Harrid's upper arms with speed that didn't allow him to respond. "You might just step on the path at the age of fourteen. Would you like to have my guidance?"

Harrid's face brightened. He didn't know much about Master Rudolf. But from his stay by the lord's side, Harrid had realized that the old man was anything but ordinary. Perhaps he had a chance for some real training instead of swinging his sword all day like the sergeant had instructed him. He nodded his head to answer Master Rudolf's question.

The old steward frowned and gave him a meaningful stare. "I didn't say some guidance, boy. I said I'm offering you guidance, all that you could get. You will have to listen to every word I say, and you will have to learn quickly. You will follow my commands, and you'll never speak of our training to anyone but the Viscount."

Harrid's wore his most serious face and nodded again. "Yes, Master Rudolf. I will follow your commands."

"Very well," the old man sighed. "You must also know that I have a reason and a condition to guide you."

Harrid gazed at the old steward inquisitively. He had a chance to do much more than this plain training and he would be able to become stronger, for Yanna and for himself. Perhaps someday he would become a knight like she had told him.

"I won't tell you about it now," Master Rudolf said. "You have other matters to worry about. You need to prove that you are worth the effort I will put into making you a proper . . . Warrior."

Harrid's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword in determination. He looked the old man in the eye for a moment, the longest he could, and he said, "I'm prepared, Master Rudolf."

Chapter 68

Chapter 68

"Is that all?" Gerald said as he looked at the two old men standing in his study.

Arthur nodded. "That is all about the envoys, my lord. But there is another matter."

Gerald had just received affirmation from Arthur and Uncle Rudolf that the envoys had come with the good intentions they appeared to hold. Arthur had mentioned that the negotiations were going well, while Uncle Rudolf had assured him that none of the envoys' members had tried to sneak anywhere they shouldn't. "What is this other matter?"

"Kale, the bowyer, my lord," Arthur said. "He has achieved something, it seems, and he wants to see your lordship."

"Ahh, him," Gerald nodded, remembering the time he'd allowed 500 gold coins to be prepared for the use by the young bowyer. The young man wasn't only a bowyer, but also an excellent woodworker in all aspects. He'd promised Gerald that he'd achieve something with the gold he'd been given. "I'll see him after the envoys leave, I suppose."

"Yes, my lord," Arthur said. "There is nothing else then."

Gerald hummed. Then he moved his eyes to Uncle Rudolf. "Did you speak to Robard?"

"For the third time?" Uncle Rudolf chortled. "Yes, I did. Yet he is too stubborn. I doubt anyone could persuade him."

"If he won't be persuaded, then let him know that he does not need to be," Gerald said, his eyes sharpening. "It will happen whether he approves of it or not."

Uncle Rudolf nodded with a wry smile.

"That is all," Gerald nodded to the two of them to leave. "Frederick is likely waiting outside. Tell him to step in if you see him." He threw Uncle Rudolf an irritated but light-hearted glance.

The old steward chuckled but seemed a bit embarrassed as he did so.

The two old men soon left, and then a young lad entered the study

"Frederick," Gerald said.

"My lord," Frederick bowed his head. He seemed to be getting used to his role in the game they were playing to disguise his presence in the Viscounty. The young lad glanced from side to side at the bookcases in the study. Then he gazed at Gerald with apparent excitement. "These are your books, my lord?"

"The ones on your right are mine. The ones on your left were my father's."

Frederick grinned as he stepped closer to the bookcase on his left. "Oh, History of Ancient Manuals. This is a rare one." He caressed one of the late Viscount's books. He turned around and headed towards the bookcase that carried Gerald's books. He gazed at its shelves for a moment, then he widened his eyes and pulled a book out halfway. "Origins of Asura. I've only heard of this book. I've never seen anyone in possession of it. Can I borro—"

"No."

"My lord, I will take very good care of any book you give me. If you were only to lend me one of—"

"No," Gerald stared at the young lad as he repeated his words with a mild but decisive tone.

Frederick nodded reluctantly as he pushed the book back in place. He moved to stand in front of Gerald's table. "You've summoned me, my lord."

"I have," Gerald said. "I used to have an attendant, but he was . . . stolen." A begrudging expression appeared on his face. Uncle Rudolf had told him that he'd be training Harrid, and that the boy would have no time to attend to him anymore. He'd chosen the boy in the first place because he trusted his loyalty. He'd saved him and Yanna from the streets, and they were unlikely to divulge his secrets. Now his only choice for a young attendant would be Frederick, since any harm that came upon him would also come upon Frederick and Lucas. The son of the betrayed Duke would have tight lips for his own good. And he also seemed honest enough from what Gerald had seen from him. He'd been ready to sacrifice himself for his men before. "Since you're already my squire, it would do no harm for you to attend to me as well."

Frederick frowned in confusion for a moment, then he nodded solemnly. "Of course, my lord. As you command."

"Very well," Gerald said, waving him out. "Lady Elrite should be arriving soon. When she does, allow her in."

"Yes, my lord," Frederick bowed his head and stepped outside.

Gerald sighed in exasperation. He'd have to receive Reya again and go through another day of pleasantries. He'd decided to ignore the disguised proposal from the Baronies. He didn't see any need to give an immediate response. He could always accept it later, after the envoys have left. The Baronies would never say no to a new ally, which meant that he would lose nothing by ignoring them for now.

ß-------------------------------------à

"That is enough," Master Rudolf said, stopping Harrid's continuous low thrusts with the training sword.

Harrid halted and straightened himself, waiting for the next command.

The old steward looked at him and narrowed his eyes. "Have you ever heard of attributes?"

"Sir Robard mentioned it once," Harrid said, remembering the vague knowledge he'd garnered from that day, when he'd heard Sir Robard discuss it with Master Arthur. All he knew was that attribute manuals were rare and priceless. Even knights like Sir Robard seldom had a chance to read one.

Master Rudolf nodded. "Aside from Warrior manuals, there are attribute manuals. Such manuals always follow a certain attribute; like fire, water, lightning, and others."

Harrid's face brightened. Perhaps Master Rudolf would explain to him everything he needed to know about attributes.

"You are not a Warrior yet, but you can still learn an attribute while training to become one." Master Rudolf began walking towards a wall that bordered the training grounds. The wall was a man's height, and it shaded part of the grounds against the sun. The old steward glanced at Harrid.

Without dawdling, Harrid followed, until they were both a few steps away from the wall. There was an unspeakable excitement riling within him now. Did Master Rudolf's words mean that he would be taught an attribute?

"My family's attribute is darkness," the old steward said, casting a regretful gaze at the ground. It took only a moment for him to withdraw it and regain his bearing though. He looked at Harrid. "Its foundation is simple enough for you to learn."

Harrid found himself grinning from ear to ear as he heard the words. It wasn't an illusion in the end. He would indeed be taught an attribute.

"How strong will an attribute make me, Master Rudolf?"

"They won't make you strong," the old steward shook his head. "Attributes are unique fighting styles that were made hundreds if not thousands of years ago. Each attribute manual is named after the element it most represents. A manual that teaches an aggressive way of combat will be a fire attribute. A manual that teaches a powerful defense will be an earth attribute."

Harrid's hopes were brought down by the words. He sighed without sound. He had imagined attributes to be something much more than this. He had hoped they would allow him to confront enemies that were larger than him.

Seemingly sensing the disappointment reeking off him, Master Rudolf gave him a cold stare. "A Warrior without an attribute would hardly have a chance against one with an attribute. Light, wind, and darkness. These are the most mysterious attributes. They are rare and difficult to learn, but one can still learn them nonetheless."

"Will I learn the darkness attribute today?" Harrid regained some of his excitement, peering intently at Master Rudolf and forsaking all patience. Curiosity for the mysterious attribute attracted his senses once more.

"The simplest part of it," came the answer.

Harrid grinned again and looked at the old steward, awaiting his guidance.

"The most important part of my family's manual is sight patterns. They are the origin, and they're the beyond," Master Rudolf explained. "One cannot learn the manual without learning them, and one cannot excel in the darkness without excelling in them. There are many things to be learned between, but the beginning and the end are the sight patterns."

"What are sight patterns?"

Master Rudolf smiled. Then he shifted his eyes, fixing them on a fly that flew circles under the sun of day. He stepped towards it and coerced it with his hands, forcing it to fly closer to the wall. "Keep your eyes on the fly. Don't lost sight of it."

Harrid complied and fixed his eyes on the fly chased by the old steward's hands. Soon, it approached the shade cast by the wall then . . . it disappeared? He focused his eyes and widened them in an attempt to find the fly he'd lost, but it was to no avail. He stepped closer to the shade and tried to find it again, but it only made him seem like a fool attempting to see the wind. He looked at Master Rudolf apologetically, trying to muster a smile but failing to procure anything with more than one corner of his mouth.

"You lost sight of it," Master Rudolf said, gazing down at him.

Harrid nodded silently.

"That was to be expected," Master Rudolf said. "This is the simplest form of a sight pattern. A man's eyes can't see both light and darkness at the same time. With training, you can improve such a simple pattern for your eyes. But most importantly, you have to learn how to use it to your advantage." He pointed at the border between shade and light. "Watch, it's coming out."

Harrid looked where Master Rudolf pointed and saw the fly come out of the shade and into the light again. He followed it with his eyes away from the wall, determined to not lose it again.

"You don't need to fix your eyes on it anymore," Master Rudolf's voice came from behind him. "You need to fix your eyes on me."

Harrid turned around to nothing. There was no Master Rudolf, at least not in the light.

"You would need at least a moment or two to notice me in the darkness," Master Rudolf said as he stepped out of the shade and into the light. It was as if he'd been born from nothing as he stepped out of the dark, right in front of Harrid. "And that would be all I need to end your life without resistance."

Chapter 69

Chapter 69

"Why are you here?" Gerald said as he stared at Renard. "I doubt that you truly want to discuss ways to better the workings of the iron mine. You don't care about the territory, not truthfully." Renard had arrived in his study a while ago, feigning ridiculous reasons for the visit. Ordinarily, he wouldn't meet Gerald without being summoned or being in the assembly in the Lord's Hall.

The minister sighed and threw Gerald a glance of what seemed like sympathy, but it wasn't very believable. "You see, your lordship. The Duke had an agreement with your father . . . about the army. I understand that you are recruiting more men than mentioned in that agreement."

Gerald sneered. "And did my father sign this agreement?"

"Oh, there was no signing," Renard said. "It is an agreement that is carried only by the power of word. Your father gave the Duke his word, and the Duke assumed that he would keep it."

"And that he did," Gerald glowered at him. "But I'm not my father. I have not given my word to the Duke, and I don't intend to when it comes to this matter."

"You see, your lordship. Your sister—"

"Enough of that!" Gerald stood up, growling. "What is it that you want?"

"The army of Ard must be curbed back to what it used to be," Renard raised both his hands, as if helpless.

"It won't be done," Gerald said, the decisiveness in his tone clear.

"In that case," Renard sighed. "The Duke won't be pleased."

"It will depend on how you deliver the news, my minister," Gerald looked at him with contempt. "And you should think well before deciding how to deliver this news. If the Duke isn't pleased with my decision, then to hell with everything. If he harms my sister, the trade route he's planned so much for will be blocked for eternity, and I will direct it to his rival; Count Herwald."

Renard raised his chin and hid the signs of irritation that began to appear on his face.

"I've already given the Duke what he wants. Merchants have already begun to travel north," Gerald tapped on the table. He walked around it until he was right in front of his minister. "You have to remember, Renard. Your fate is entwined with the fate of that route. It's what gives you worth. Without the trade route, you are nothing to the Duke. So think well before ruining this for a useless agreement." Gerald snorted in his face then walked back to his seat. He knew that the agreement had been one more form of pressure the Duke had put on the Viscounty. His father had abstained from attacking the bandits. The Duke hadn't liked that very much, so he'd imposed some restrictions on Ard's military, since it wouldn't be fighting the bandits anyway.

The Duke never needed worry about the Viscounty's military though. There would never be war between them after all, since it would entail a war between Maric and Andross. And aside from that, no matter how much Gerald expanded his army, he wouldn't have enough strength to battle the Duke, at least not in nearer times. He'd heard that the Duke had as many as thirty thousand men. He was perhaps the strongest Duke in the subcontinent. He'd garnered enough influence and territory in Andross to build such an army without obstacles. Gerald would have no fortune in a war against him.

He glanced at his minister as he took his seat. Renard was biting his lips and giving him a hateful stare. Gerald had thrown the whole weight of the problem on him after all. He would have to either not inform the Duke of it or deliver the news in the best way possible to avoid troubles. If he were to deliver the news to the Duke as a form of insult, it could complicate things and ruin the trade route, which was what his success rested on. Gerald knew that, and he wished to make use of it.

"I've had enough of you in my study," Gerald said, waving him away with two fingers, just like he would a servant.

Renard pushed his jaw from side to side and nodded. He shot Gerald a venomous glare before turning and walking out of the study.

Gerald didn't get a few moments of respite before Frederick knocked on the door and came in. "My lord, Lady Elrite awaits you in the gardens."

Gerald nodded and headed towards the door. He left the study and found Arthur outside, about to enter. "Arthur?"

"My lord," Arthur said, looking at him inquisitively. Then he seemed to abandon his unasked questions, sighing. "I have matters to discuss with you."

Gerald nodded for Frederick to go ahead of him. "Walk with me, Arthur."

The old minister nodded and walked beside him through the hallway. "The harvest has begun, my lord."

"How well is it going?" Gerald said.

"The fields will yield a considerable amount," Arthur explained. "And with the outer villages falling back into the House's hands, we can expect more income."

"Yes, yes. You said before that we would need three thousand gold more than our income to support the Viscounty," Gerald said uncertainly.

"Indeed, my lord," Arthur said. "But I doubt that that will be the case after this harvest. I believe that the Viscounty will pass its first year in the recent past without such difficulties."

"Very well," Gerald said. They strolled through a few hallways before climbing down the stairs. "How goes the preparation in the scorched forest?"

"The sowing for the winter will begin in a month, my lord. The lands will be ready before that."

"How much land will be planted?"

"More than we've imagined, my lord. The refugees aren't keen on missing chances like this one. Aside from the amount of gold you have provided for lending, many refugees have borrowed from merchants and are preparing to plant their fields."

Gerald smiled and glanced at his minister. "Then we needn't worry about next year's grain. If all goes well, we'll have much to spare."

"Or sell, my lord," Arthur chortled.

Gerald shrugged. "Regardless, there is always use for grain."

Arthur nodded as they came to a stop a door away from the gardens.

"Ahh, and how has the undertaking in the south been faring?" Gerald asked.

"We've begun building the roads for the new quarter south of the walls, my lord. Hopefully, the quarter will be ready in a few short months."

"How few?" Gerald said, narrowing his eyes.

"I can't be certain," Arthur shook his head. "If this is a calm winter, then we could need only two months, my lord. But if it isn't or if any other matters obstruct the building, then we could need as many as four months to have the skeletal foundation of a new quarter ready."

Gerald rubbed his chin. "What if you focused on building the market area before anything else. How long would it need to be prepared for merchants?"

"A month, I believe, my lord."

"Do so then. I also want the streets of the market area built with stone instead of gravel," Gerald tapped his minister on the shoulder.

"It shall be done, my lord."

"Very well," Gerald nodded, heading towards the gardens. "I shall go handle my other matters." He opened the door and walked out to the smell of greenery and roses.

Reya was standing in the middle of a group of blood-red roses. She touched their petals with her hovering palms. She turned from side to side, slowly dancing among the crowd of flowers, her green dress swinging with her. A moment after he entered, she turned around and smiled at him.

"Lady Reya," Gerald said.

"Lord Tellus."

"I hope our gardens have been pleasant to you," Gerald said as he walked to the seats to the side.

Reya nodded with half a smile and walked to the seats as well.

Gerald sat down and she quickly joined him.

"The gardens are very beautiful," she said, eying him. "I have found pleasure in my time here. Yet your company has been difficult to keep, your lordship."

"You must forgive me, my lady." Gerald wore a wry smile. "The matters of the Viscounty rarely give me leisure."

"I understand, of course," she nodded. "But that is not all." She gave him an anxious glance, perhaps even impatient.

"My lady," Gerald sighed, irritated. "That is indeed not all. I wish to get past the unneeded pleasantries." He glanced at her as well, but his glance carried meaning.

"I will be honest then, Lord Tellus," her eyes lowered towards the ground.

"I appreciate honesty very much, my lady," he said. "I hope that you will say that which we both already know."

She nodded and forced a smile. "Yes . . . The alliance has sent me in the hopes of gaining a new friend. I was to subtly solicit an alliance by marriage." She blushed, her eyes still fixed on the ground.

Gerald smile, satisfied. At least with the truth put to words, he could speak his truth as well. "You see, my lady. I have great appreciation for your honesty, but I do not intend to enter such an alliance with the Baronies yet. You are very beautiful. It would have been my honor and certainly my fortune to wed you. But such a decision never crossed my mind, because it meant more than just wedding you. It meant I would be wedding the Baronies, and I intend to do no such thing."

Reya pressed her lips, seemingly distressed. But she soon nodded and smiled at him. "I'm glad that you chose to be honest with me, Lord Tellus. And with the truth you have told me, I can at least avoid needless accusations when I return home."

Gerald nodded. It was understandable that the Barons would attempt to put the weight of this failure on her. She had been the winner of the opportunity to seal such an alliance after all, and the other Barons' daughters had lost that opportunity. But with Gerald's words, it was made clear that the failure came from his decision to avoid an alliance with the Baronies, not from Reya.

"I wish you the best in your coming endeavors, my lady," Gerald said as he stood up.

She nodded and stood up as well. "Thank you, Lord Tellus. I wish you the same. I will tell Radiel to stop extending the negotiations with your minister needlessly. I have been your guest for long enough."

"A welcome guest," Gerald said. "You may stay as long as you wish"

"There is no need for me to stay any longer. I wish to return home. It has been pleasant visiting somewhere new, but I have spent enough time here, I suppose."

Gerald nodded and departed, leaving the gardens with a smile. He would no longer have to purposelessly keep a stranger's company.

Chapter 70

Chapter 70

Gasper was woken up by the sunshine coming through the window. His father had returned to his subtle ways again. He got up, earlier than he wanted to.

After washing himself and gazing at the faint waves of water in the basin, he sighed. His father had told him once that if he had enough leisure to stare at meaningless things, then he had too much leisure.

He drank some water and walked out of the house with his sheathed sword. He circled around the house and came behind it where there was a very small patch of dying vegetation, hardly large enough to compare to a room.

He unsheathed his sword and began swinging. He'd become a Sky Warrior a while ago, before returning to Ard. Since then he'd been training to let the new strength settle in his body. It would take a while. Most people had divided it into four steps, or four ranks. A Sky Warrior would have to reach the fourth rank before thinking of taking the next step and achieving what very few people could, becoming a Heaven Warrior, which could only come through combat. Gasper didn't care much for ranks. He only cared about getting himself as far as possible with training.

He kept swinging his sword, and only paused when the neighbor's wife glanced at him while hanging clothes to dry.

He stopped once again when he heard his father's voice.

"Have you broken your fast?"

Gasper turned around to his father who came with a plate covered in bread, cheese, and some fruit. "I'm not hungry."

"There is no surprise in that," his father said. "A man who looks as melancholy as you is likely to starve himself to death."

"Melancholy?" Gasper raised a brow. "I think not, father."

"I thought you would notice the pale skin and those droopy eyes of yours while doing your morning stare at the water basin. Remind me, son, what does that train you for?"

Gasper's mouth twitched then he shook his head. "I'm not hungry father."

"You're not? Well then—" his father paused as he noticed Gasper's gaze moving behind him. He turned around and saw the man Gasper had just watched appear from around the corner, Master Rudolf.

"You are?" his father asked.

"Father, this is Master Rudolf, the lord's steward," Gasper said, his eyes still fixed on the old man who was smiling faintly.

"Ah, forgive me," his father said, nodding his head and lowering it slightly. "Please, grace us with your presence inside." He stretched his arm and gestured towards the house.

Master Rudolf shook his head with a neutral expression. "There will be no need for that." Then he smiled again and shifted his eyes to Gasper. "The lord has a need for your presence."

"A- . . . huh," Gasper stuttered, shifting his eyes between Master Rudolf and his father.

"Of course, he will be at the lord's command in moments," his father said, giving him a glance. "Go on, Gasper. Get dressed and don your armor." He pointed at the house and urged him in.

Gasper nodded and headed into the house. He quickly washed himself and donned his leather armor. After donning his armor, he walked to the water basin and looked at his reflection in the water. His skin was pale, and his droopy eyes struggled to hold themselves up even after washing himself twice. He threw some cold water on his face and took a breath.

He wasn't certain what the lord wanted of him, but he was glad that he was still at least needed. He balled up his fist to resist that anxious shudder that overwhelmed him for a moment. He would have to do better this time. Perhaps he still had a chance to get into the Viscount's good graces, after all.

He walked out of the house to the two waiting old men. His father flashed him a quick smile that spilled encouragement. Master Rudolf gave a more lasting but subtle smile as he turned around and prepared to lead him to the keep.

Gasper took two steps after Master Rudolf then stopped and turned around. "Father," he gave his father an apologetic look. Then he turned to Master Rudolf. "Ahem, is the matter discreet, Master Rudolf? Can my father know when to expect my return?"

"No need. No need," his father said to Master Rudolf. "Just serve the lord well, son."

Gasper stared at the old steward, awaiting an answer to his question.

"No, he cannot. He can accompany us, however."

Gasper narrowed his eyes. "Are you certain?"

Master Rudolf nodded. "I suppose the lord wouldn't mind his presence. Perhaps he would even prefer it. He might find good use for a former merchant."

Gasper glanced back at his father who'd lost his words for a moment. The old man took a while to realize that he was to accompany them. He nodded his head and grinned. "Master Rudolf, I hope you will give me a very brief moment to dress myself more appropriately." He ran into the house with the recklessness of a much younger man, and it took him a bit longer than promised to emerge from within again.

Gasper raised a brow as he saw the blue robes he'd never witnessed before. The golden runes fit on the edges of the robes as perfectly as the robes fit his father.

Master Rudolf gave an approving nod, and Gasper's father grinned at him. And they soon headed towards the looming white keep.

..

Gasper was greeted by a lot of liveliness in the keep on his arrival. Maids and servants in formal attire walked by in every direction. The guards were better dressed than they were the last time he'd been here, and there seemed to be some strangers in the keep.

"The envoys of the southern Baronies arrived recently," Master Rudolf whispered to him.

Gasper nodded in understanding, while his father preserved a rigid posture, measuring each pace of his walk perfectly.

"We're expected in the Lord's Hall," Master Rudolf said.

Gasper nodded and the three of them headed to the hall. There, the two guards at the doors of the hall stood in ceremonial armor, hardened iron, properly polished and clothed in the colors of House Tellus.

As the two guards prepared to open the doors, a hand grabbed Gasper's arm and a whisper came to his ear. "The lord and I have stood on your side. Robard has opposed it, while Arthur stayed neutral. You must repay the lord for this, by serving him well."

Another involuntary shudder ran through Gasper as he heard the words and at the same time the doors opened.

The first to catch Gasper's eyes was Frederick who received them in dashing formal attire. "The lord awaits you." He motioned them in.

Gasper was pushed by Master Rudolf to step in first. And he did, running his eyes briefly over the room. The lord was in his seat, while Arthur and Renard stood to his sides. Robard and Lucas stood a step down from them. Gasper also spied a lady and some old men standing to one side below the platform on which the lord was seated.

Master Rudolf headed up the platform to stand behind the lord, while Frederick guided Gasper's father to stand with the lady and the old men standing to the side.

The lord's minister, Master Arthur, loudly cleared his throat. "Gasper Fedelis, you have been summoned by the Viscount, Gerald Tellus, the rightful ruler of the Tellus Viscounty and the protector of all its territories."

Gaspe hurriedly trotted into place, just below the platform, where the lord could look down upon him and he could look up to the lord. He bowed deeply. "My humble presence is always at the lord's service. I answer the call." He felt his eyes moisten but he held back his tears. Master Rudolf's words—If this was what he believed it was . . .

As he straightened up, the Viscount stood up from his seat and smiled down at him. He took one step down, slowly, and said, "Gasper Fidelis, no one can deny that you have served me and this Viscounty faithfully and vigorously." He glanced at his aides.

Lucas gave Gasper a nod, while Sir Robard kept a neutral face.

The Viscount took another step down, his steel armor clinking. "You have bled for me. You have suffered for me. And you have shown courage as you've served me." He took the final step down and stood level with Gasper, staring him in the eye. "A lord who's been served with such vigor would be unwise to ignore your merits. Hence . . . In the name of House Tellus, and in my name, Gerald Tellus, I ask you, will you serve me and my family as a faithful knight of this House for all your years?"

Gasper clenched his jaw, preventing his lips from trembling and his tears from squeezing out of his eyes. He fell to one knee. "I will serve House Tellus for this life and for as many lives as may come, my lord."

The Viscount nodded, drawing his ceremonial sword, one adorned with gold at the hilt and pommel. "Then," he tapped the sword on one side of Gasper's neck and rested it on his shoulder. "I, Lord Gerald Tellus, vow to honor your loyalty, take your family as my own should they be in need, and value your blood as I would the blood of my kin should it be spilled. May all those present today stand witness to my oath."

Gasper was grateful that his head had to be lowered for his vow. He gazed at the ground, his eyes twitching and the heaviness of the sword on his shoulder. "Your oath is my honor, my lord." He took a breath. "I vow to serve your name, your House, and your children after you till the last breath I can muster. I vow to bleed before my lord bleeds. I vow to fall before House Tellus falls. Should the men of all lands come for blood, I shall defend my House and receive them with arms. May all those present today stand witness to my oath."

The Viscount raised the sword and tapped the other side of his neck then rested it on his shoulder. "I accept your oath, shall it forever honor me. I name you Sir Gasper of House Tellus. Rise."

Gasper stood up, meeting the Viscount's gaze. The latter stepped forward and embraced him, patting him on the back. As his head rested on his lord's shoulder, Gasper caught a glance of his father sobbing among the crowd behind the lady. He smiled, hoping his father would see him do so, but the old man's tears had blinded him. Gasper doubted that he could see anything for the time.

As the Viscount and Gasper separated, the former smiled at him goodheartedly. "I also announce you as the commander of the elite corps of Ard."

Gasper nodded. He swore a silent vow to himself too. He swore that he wouldn't escape next time, no matter what.

Chapter 71

Chapter 71

At the southern gates of Ard, Gerald shook the reins to his horse, urging it closer to Reya's carriage. "It is such a regret to see you go, my lady."

"I am afraid I cannot stay any longer, Lord Tellus," Reya said through the window of her ornate, green carriage. "The negotiations have already been sealed. Trade between the Viscounty and the Baronies will commence soon. There is no need for my presence anymore."

"But you will always be welcome in Ard," Gerald said, wearing a courteous smile.

"You have my thanks," she smiled back. "I wish you the best of fortune in rebuilding your lands." She glanced at the crowd of laborers south of the walls, working on the foundations of roads and buildings.

"And I wish you a safe journey, my lady," Gerald said as he nodded to the riders of the convoy. "May we meet again one day."

"I certainly wish we do," she said as the carriage began to move. "I have enjoyed my time here. It never ages, watching a knight swear his oath." She nodded to him courteously as a distance began to widen between them.

The trail of carriages, carrying the envoys of the Baronies, began to crawl over the road towards the south, surrounded by a few knights and many guards.

As the carriages distanced themselves farther and farther from Ard, Gerald turned his horse around. Arthur and Robard were on their horses behind him.

"My lord," they said, bowing their heads slightly.

"You have informed Kale that I will visit him today, yes?" Gerald asked his minister.

"Of course, my lord," Arthur said. "He will be expecting us."

"Then let us waste no more time."

..

.

Through the crowds of noisy merchants and subjects, Gerald and his aides reached Kale's workshop.

The workshop was as lively as ever, and Gerald suspected that the talented woodworker had taken more apprentices under his care. Young boys and lad ran around, carrying unfinished bows and strings, and sometimes even unarched shafts of wood that were still to be mellowed. Others carried crossbows around with more care and steadiness.

Robard stepped forward at the entrance of the workshop and announced their arrival. "THE LORD HAS ARRIVED!"

The apprentices froze, and some of them mustered some courage to turn and take a quick glance at Gerald.

Soon, an older one among them urged the others to bow, and they all did, greeting Gerald. "Welcome, my lord."

A few moments later and Kale spawned among the crowd, walking towards Gerald with a sunshine grin.

Arthur spoke first with a frown and a twitching brow. "I thought I informed you of the lord's visit."

Kale nodded. "Yes. Yes, you have." He turned to Gerald and bowed hurriedly. "Of course, I knew the lord would be here."

"Then why weren't you here, waiting?," Robard glared at him.

"I was preparing," he replied, quickly dismissing the knight and turning to Gerald again. "Lord, I've prepared the new weapon."

Gasper raised his brows. He had expected it to be some sort of weapon, or rather he'd hoped so. "What kind of weapon may this contraption yours be?"

"A small one," Kale said, waving his hand at one of his apprentices. "Bring it, quickly!"

The lad ran inside and soon came out carrying something the size of a scrawny newborn, covered with a grey cloth. He came to Kale and handed the weapon to him.

Kale set it on a table, then removed the cloth.

Gerald raised a brow as his eyes fell on the small crossbow that lay on the table. "What may this be?"

"I call it a 'sting', my lord," Kale gestured towards the crossbow. "It's smaller, lighter, and quicker than the average crossbow, as you can of course see."

Gerald scrutinized the crossbow, walking around it slowly. It was less than half the size of the ordinary crossbow that required a grown man to carry and handle. Its timber was smooth and polished, and it seemed more dashing in form, its wings arching backwards more than the ordinary crossbow.

He picked it up slowly, noticing that it carried no bolt. "It is indeed quite light to carry."

"Yes," Kale nodded fervently. "We have tried using it with one arm, my lord."

"And?" Gerald glanced at him.

"Well, my lord." Kale rubbed his head, apparently embarrassed. "My aim was never good. But I believe that a trained soldier can easily use it single-handedly."

Gerald held it with one hand and extended his hand forward, aiming at one of the lumps of timber lying around. A smile slowly drew itself on his face as he realized that it was indeed light enough to be used with a single hand, and perhaps even on horseback while riding. "The gold you've received might have not been a waste after all, Kale."

"Yes, my lord," Kale nodded. "But . . . "

"What is it?" Gerald felt that a bolt was soon to be shot into his visions for this unique weapon.

"It has two problems," Kale said, running his hand through his messy hair.

"What may they be?"

"First, its range is very limited," Kale explained. "An ordinary crossbow can pierce solid armor from a hundred yards away. But this can only do so within thirty to forty yards, my lord, and it might not pierce heavy armor very well. Of course, for unarmored enemies, it can strike as far as a hundred yards and draw blood."

"Is it because of the small bolts?" Gerald cocked his head, bringing the crossbow closer to his eyes and imagining the measure of the bolt that could fit into it.

"No, my lord," Kale smiled wryly. "The coin you've provided me wasn't enough to send for more intricate parts from outside of the Viscounty. I believe it can still be improved through further attempts with better parts."

Gerald nodded. He'd limited Kale to five hundred gold coins instead of the requested thousand when he'd first met him. "Very well, you may have the rest of the gold you need. Five hundred more, yes?"

"Yes, my lord," Kale said. "I will begin as soon as I can. I believe that after I'm done, a sting would be capable of penetrating any heavy armor within fifty yards."

"You haven't mentioned the second problem," Gerald eyed him.

"Ahh, yes," Kale nodded. "My lord, a single piece of this costs us as much as five gold coins. And after I improve it, I believe that will increase."

"Increase to how much?" Gerald felt the pinch on his plans.

"Perhaps six or seven golds a piece."

"I see," Gerald sighed. "Have you crafted bolts for it?"

"Yes," Kale motioned for his apprentice to run for the bolts. The latter did and came back quickly with several small bolts.

Gerald received one and fixed it in place. Then he aimed his crossbow at a log of wood in the corner of the workshop.

"My lord," Kale smiled. "A moment is all it will take to reach the targets' field."

Gerald narrowed his eyes and followed Kale deeper into the workshop. They passed a door then took one turn and passed another, finding themselves behind the workshop. Several archery targets lay outside, waiting to be struck.

Gerald smirked and stepped closer to one of the targets, standing as far as forty yards away from it. He aimed the crossbow, or the sting as Kale had called it, at the target. He aligned his arm with his sight and the sting's bolt. He took a moment to adapt then released the bolt.

With a Twang, it left the sting and buried itself in the target, not exactly in the middle of it though. It was between the edge of the target and its bull's eye.

"It isn't a bad crossbow," Gerald said, turning to the young bowyer.

Kale's mouth twitched a little. "A sting, my lord."

Gerald forced a smile. He really didn't want to utter that name. He would have liked to name the weapon himself, but it seemed that Kale hadn't prepared that honor for him. "Very well. It is a very good weapon, and a witness to your mastery in craftsmanship. How many do you have at this moment?"

"Only thirty that can be used, my lord," Kale said. "The rest are mostly failures, hardly in any shape to be used."

Gerald reloaded his crossbow and stepped to the side, aligning himself with a farther target, perhaps a hundred yards away. He aimed slowly then released the bolt, but it landed nowhere near the target. It seemed that its aim was only good on shorter range, but it was good enough for the uses he had in mind. "I will send someone to receive them from you. I need to have my men trained to use them." He would have his elite corps train well with the new sting. It would prove to be quite useful for his Warriors.

"I will prepare them for your use, my lord."

"Good. Good," Gerald said, gazing at the one in his hand. "How long will it take for you to improve these stings?"

"Perhaps a month, my lord. It won't be much longer than that. Everything is prepared except those parts I need from outside the Viscounty. Once they arrive, it won't take long for me to have the new sting made."

"Then I will leave this one here. Send me the best new sting you manage to make once it's ready."

"Yes, my lord."

ß-----------------------------------------------à

Gasper tapped the steel breastplate, the set that the lord had gifted him, as he walked out of his house. He was heading east of Ard to take command of the elite corps.

His father had been busy preparing to open a shop on behalf of the lord in the new southern quarter. He would buy the goods from craftsmen who would otherwise be idle, hoping that merchants would become trusting enough of their goods in due time. He would also seek to buy certain goods the lord had requested. Gasper was glad that his father found something to busy himself with; something enjoyable for him.

When he reached the eastern gate of Ard, he saw Master Rudolf accompanied by a sullen boy who was scrunching his face with visible effort. Yet the boy's face lightened up upon seeing him. He stared at Gasper's steel armor for a while then contemplated his face.

Gasper glanced at Master Rudolf.

The latter chuckled. "Don't mind Harrid. He intends to wear that ugly countenance for a few days since I didn't allow him to attend your knighting ceremony." The old steward glanced at the boy. "But it was no fault of mine that he failed to meet expectations in his training."

Gasper looked at the boy who was still observing his armor. He patted him on the arm, holding himself back from breaking into a silly smile. And with some pride he said, "before battle, comes training, lad. Train well so that you may become a knight one day." He stared the boy in the eye, awaiting a dismissing or contemptuous response, but Harrid's face lit up and fervent nods followed.

Master Rudolf watched for a moment then shook his head with a wry smile. "Shall we go, Gasper?"

"Yes," Gasper nodded, walking towards the three prepared horses.

Master Rudolf mounted his horse and looked at Harrid who struggled to mount his. "Let's see how you ride today," he told the boy.

The three of them rode out of the gate to the east.

"The lord has entrusted you with the leadership of the elite corps, Gasper. But the Warriors of the elite corps might not be so easily persuaded to take you as a true commander," Master Rudolf said as he rode beside Gasper. "You would do good to gain their respect with time. After all, you're young and you're a freshly named knight. There is not much difference in strength between you and them as well."

When he heard those last words, Gasper gave Master Rudolf a look. The latter raised a brow. Gasper smiled apologetically. "I've been a Sky Warrior since we set camp with the crew in the south."

"I didn't ask back then because I didn't want to salt your wounds, considering that you may have failed," Master Rudolf cocked his head. "Yet you used that to keep secrets." The old steward chuckled and shook his head. "It will please the lord, I suppose. Becoming a Sky Warrior at such a young age shows promise. Twenty-two years, yes?"

Gasper nodded. "Indeed."

"Well," Master Rudolf sighed. "It will still be a matter of gaining your men's respect. The elite corps may be as small as seventy men, but leading it will be no small matter."

Gasper nodded again, this time decisively.

It didn't take long for them to reach the corps' camp. There, they were met with a crowd of men who stood scattered in the camp's field.

Gasper pulled the reins to his horse and dismounted it.

Master Rudolf didn't. He rode into the middle of the camp. "This is your new commander, Sir Gasper," he said with a mild but clear voice, pointing at Gasper. Then he ran his eyes over the Warriors of the corps.

"Commander," one Warrior said, and the others soon echoed him.

"Commander."

"Greetings commander."

Gasper ran his eyes over the Warriors of his corps, stopping from time to time to see their expressions, none of which looked convinced.

Soon, Master Rudolf left with Harrid, and Gasper stayed with his men.

He glanced at the men around him, standing without purpose. "Well . . . To the training fields then."

There was silence for a moment then the men began dragging their feet towards the training grounds, as if reluctant to obey his first command.

Quite prideful, he thought.

In the training grounds, which was a very simple, large field, Gasper headed towards the sparring ring. He leapt over the fence and walked to the middle of it. "A few spars are due, yes?" He glanced at the men, noticing some faces brightening with anticipation and others filled with amusement.

He ran his eyes over the lot of them and said, "a long day is ahead of us. Let us not waste any more time. Who comes first?"

Quickly, a Warrior hopped into the ring, picking up a training sword. Gasper picked one as well and they circled each other.

"Let's begin then," Gasper said.

His opponent nodded and lunged in for thrust. Gasper parried it, unsure if the recklessness was a trap.

His opponent attempted a low slash, only for Gasper to step back, avoiding it. But then he recovered with two quick steps forward, pushing his opponent's unstable sword to the side and striking him mildly in the knee, forcing it to buckle and the Warrior to kneel down.

Gasper raised a brow. Maybe these Warriors weren't only weaker than him but also less crafty with a sword. He ran his eyes over them. "Only seventy of you, huh?" He grinned. "Perhaps this won't be a long day after all."

And thus began a day of painful training, unlikely to be forgotten by any of its victims for quite a time.

Chapter 72

Chapter 72

Gerald gazed out of the study's window and watched the streets. They were less brimming with life than usual. "I assume the fields are livelier than the streets?"

"Of course, my lord," Arthur said from behind. "The sowing has begun in all the hamlets and villages. The scorched forest's land is also being sowed."

Gerald nodded. A cold breeze came from without, and the winter's chill began to permeate his flesh. He hated that chill. He knew it too well. It wasn't too cold, but it always penetrated one to the core, touching their bones and keeping them away from a good night's sleep. This was its beginning. At the height of winter, the walls would have absorbed it and there would be no escape from it, no matter how many hearth fires were lit.

"A new year begins," Gerald said, turning around and smiling at Arthur. He'd arrived at the Viscounty six months ago, in the middle of the year. Time had passed faster than he'd imagined it could.

"Indeed," Arthur said. "Hopefully a prosperous year awaits the Viscounty, my lord."

"Hopes," Gerald snorted and shook his head.

Arthur lost his words for a moment and looked taken aback by the instant ridicule.

"It's not you, Arthur." Gerald sighed. "Hoping is something I can never feel. It's simply gone. I can't remember it anymore. I lost it when I was there." He pointed behind him, towards the window, towards the north where his worst enemy lay.

Arthur smiled apologetically and nodded.

"Anything else, then?" Gerald said.

Arthur stood there, obviously hesitant, as if he wasn't certain of what he wanted.

Gerald narrowed his eyes. "Trouble?"

"No, no, my lord," Arthur chuckled nervously. "It's . . . Well, my lord. I have always wondered where you get your calm."

"What calm?" Gerald raised a brow. "Is there something to not be calm about?"

"You still misunderstand me, my lord," Arthur shook his head. "There are no important matters to discuss. Only, my curiosity has gotten the better of me."

"How so?"

Arthur cleared his throat. "When you first arrived, my lord, I expected less from you. Bandits had infested the territory for years. Grina was deeply rooted in Ard. I believed that taking a seat on a throne of needles would have been more welcoming than taking the lord's seat here."

"Yes, yes," Gerald nodded. "I had just returned home, though it wasn't a very welcoming home. But where do you think I was coming from, Arthur?" Gerald stood up. He walked to the window again. This time not watching the streets of Ard, but looking farther, towards the north. "There, everyone was hostile too. Only, I didn't have any power then. Pieces were always moved against and around me, but I never had the chance to move a piece of my own. I spent many nights just thinking about what I would do if I only I could, but I never had an opportunity to act." Gerald turned around and looked at his minister. "Here, however, I can. When I came here, I only had to move my pieces right to get what I wanted. There was nothing restraining me anymore. You were worried about the enemies that awaited me here, without and within, right?" Gerald turned to gaze at the north again, his eyes only seeing the blue sky, slightly cloudy. "Well, Arthur, when you grow in the forest, you don't fear the beasts."

His minister was silent for a few moments, then he heard him clear his dry throat again. "I have always imagined your absence from your father's court and your presence at the Duke's was only what the Duke saw it to be, a game of power. It seems it has been difficult living in the Duke's court, my lord. More difficult than I imagined."

"Yes," Gerald said, his eyes searching deeper in the sky. "Now only my sister is there. Alone."

..

.

During the night, Gerald entered his father's bedchambers, only for the second time since his arrival. The first time, he'd only given a glance to its insides.

He pushed the door, hearing its faint creak fill the silence of the hallway. He walked inside, carrying his lamp and staring at the large bed in front of him. He stepped closer and touched the old wood. It was blanketed in dust. No maids were allowed in here, and the chamber had likely been collecting dust for months. He smelled the air, a mix of mold and dust. He'd come here with no clear reason. He refused to believe that he was having peace with his passed father. He simply thought of him sometimes. This time there had been an urge, just like the one that had gotten him to visit his father's grave.

He walked around the bed. Some half-melted candles were beside the bed, solid and rough like rocks due to being neglected. He slowly sat on the side of the bed, inviting a small assault of dust into the air. He coughed for a moment then closed his eyes, smelling the air again. Perhaps he could get a whiff of what his father had smelled like. But there was no such whiff.

He opened his eyes again, the light of the lamp slightly bothersome to him. His eyes avoided it and landed on the candles again, behind them and mostly hidden was a book. It was the same dark color of the wood. No wonder he hadn't noticed it before. He stood up and picked it up.

He didn't have the patience to begin it from the first page or seek a title. He just opened it from the middle. And the first words told him who it belonged to.

It wasn't a book. It was a journal; his brother's. The words were scribbled with an angry hand, obvious from the writing and the words. With the weak light of his lamp, he read it carefully.

'Father will never understand me. I told him that we can't be the Duke's slaves for the rest of our lives, but he wouldn't listen. He still fights for them, even though everyone knows the Duke would never send either of them back to us. They would forever be at his court.'

Gerald read the words written by his late brother and chuckled weakly. They were indeed never meant to return home. If his father and brother hadn't died, he would have likely stayed at the Duke's court for his whole life.

However, the words that he read next didn't make him laugh. They made his shoulders droop.

'For the Viscounty to thrive, we must abandon them. But father never listens. He can't understand that even Royal dynasties have sacrificed their members for the good of their rule. If we can't have them back, then let the Duke do with them what he may. We must ignore his threats and thrive, away from his influence. Fighting for the return of my siblings is foolish. But father'

Gerald stopped there, seeing some angrier scribbling that was impossible to understand. He gulped down, hating to read what came after that.

'Now I can only expect to inherit a land infested with brigands, and a drying treasury waiting for its death. I will be the one to live with what comes from this folly. I must persuade him. I must change his mind. He can't forever be thinking of them. They were lost when they left this castle. He is only holding on to false hope.'

Gerald closed the journal, as if restraining his eyes from seeing more. He could only imagine that the journal was full of words like these. He stood up, holding the lamp in one hand and the journal in the other. He looked at the leather coating of the latter and wore a bitter smile. "I always wanted to meet you, brother. But it seems you didn't share my wish." A memory struck him, and he tasted that old familiar feeling. Hope. It was perhaps the last time he'd felt it, when the Duke's sons had outnumbered him in the training grounds. He'd hoped his brother would be there, by his side. He'd hoped he could have a brother always nearby, like the Duke's sons had each other.

His eyes wouldn't leave the journal, and he couldn't hold his smile anymore. He could only imagine his countenance now. Pitiful. And it would be worse tomorrow, when he reads this whole journal. He would have to. It was very likely that the journal contained things he needed to know. He would read it, and he would have to go through the scraping words his brother had written.

"When you grow in the forest . . . " he gazed at the journal and forced the corner of his mouth into a weak smile.

Chapter 73

Chapter 73

In his bed chamber, Gerald fiddled with the pages of his brother's journal. He'd expected to be able to read it in one day, but he had been proven wrong. The small words scribbled down with an unsteady hand were more difficult to understand than he'd thought. The journal contained many days of his brother's life, many more than its appearance would suggest.

He flipped another useless page and began reading the next.

'Father is going mad. I'm certain of it. He's letting the bandits have their way. He won't even cull their raids against the villages. They've become brazen enough to attempt to mark territories for themselves. I don't know what he's thinking. The Duke has driven him to despair. If only my siblings weren't there.'

Gerald paused and sneered, mostly in self-mockery. He wondered whether those last words were a wish that he and Lena hadn't been the Duke's hostages, or a wish that the two of them had never existed.

'Yesterday, I took five hundred men and chased down some brigands. I cut them down and mounted their heads on spikes around the castle. Instead of showing gratitude, father admonished me. I cannot understand him anymore. I don't care to. I'm heir to these lands, and I won't let these vermin overrun it.'

Gerald sighed and slowly closed the journal, marking the page. He glanced at the door. "Frederick!"

The door was opened from outside and Frederick snaked his head in. "My lord?"

"Has Arthur not arrived yet?"

"He just did, my lord. I was about to inform you."

"Let him in," Gerald said, his eyes searching beyond Frederick.

Frederick's head withdrew itself, and after a moment Arthur stepped in, concern written on his face. "Is something the matter, my lord?"

"It's nothing, Arthur," Gerald faced his minister, sliding his legs down from the bed onto the ground. "I just had a question, or two." He met his minister's eyes and didn't blink.

The old minister seemed to realize how serious Gerald was, nodding solemnly. "I'll answer to the best of my ability, my lord."

"Good," Gerald said. "You told me before that my brother insisted to accompany my father chasing the bandits."

"Yes," Arthur said, a puzzled frown on his face.

"What did he say then?" Gerald asked.

Arthur's frown deepened and he stuttered for a moment. " . . . I don't know."

Gerald cocked his head, giving his minister a questioning stare.

"The Viscount told us that your brother insisted on accompanying him, my lord. I didn't hear what your brother said. They left soon after, and there wasn't much time for questions. Robard was taking most of the lord's time, attempting to persuade him to let him accompany him as well."

Gerald nodded, glancing at the journal again. He'd found it in his father's chambers, not in his brother's. He was beginning to wish he understood his father as well. Nobody seemed to have been capable of that in the recent years. Arthur had confessed to being ignorant of his father's heart and mind in the years before his death, and his brother had written the same in the journal.

Perhaps he ought to seek more about his father than he'd cared to before.

ß---------------------------------------------------à

Harrid walked through the door into the keep's gardens. There were four maids and three servants working there, caring for the flowers and the trees. They worked like bees, flying from one side of the grounds to another, each finding their own way and not minding the others. They were the perfect targets for his training. He waited until most of them had their backs to him then he walked further into the grounds of the gardens. They were still moving from side to side, minding their work and not minding their surroundings, just like people in the streets.

Never walk towards your target. He glanced at the maid trimming pomegranate tree on the other side of the grounds. Then he walked on the path in the middle of the garden, skimming past two other maids and a servant. If you look at someone, expect them to look back at you. "So don't," he whispered to himself, almost without any sound. He avoided the usual curiosity of his eyes and kept them looking ahead, only keeping notice of those around him with the corners of his eyes.

The maid he had marked was farther ahead to the left, still trimming the tree. He walked forward, as if he was walking down the path towards a patch of flowers.

He only stopped when he could turn his head left and look her square in the back. She was now blind to anything he did. He didn't sneak towards her like a cat seeking a bird. He simply walked towards her just like he'd walked down the path. The only difference between him and anyone of the servants was that his feet emitted little sound as he walked. He came to a stop when he was less than a yard behind her. He could step forward and stretch his hand and touch her if he wanted, but he just stood there, grinning to himself. He'd succeeded once more.

As he grinned, he realized that a pair of eyes had landed on him. He glanced towards the person. It was one of the servants. He'd noticed his odd behavior, it seemed. If someone notices you, never react. He refused to meet the eyes of the servant, but he didn't escape them. He simply looked back ahead of himself slowly, like a person looking around and retracting his eyes during a stroll.

The servant was still staring at him, apparently perplexed.

Harrid turned around and walked away from the maid who was still busy trimming the tree. He returned to the path and, for a brief moment, noticed movement in one of the corners of the garden. He hurried there, meeting Master Rudolf in the shade of a large tree.

"You're still learning," the old steward said. "But you're on the right path. It seems I've chosen well." The old man patted him on the shoulder with one hand.

Harrid grinned again. Then he noticed the other hand of the old man when it was past halfway towards his throat, carrying a small blade. The hand hadn't attracted his attention before. Master Rudolf had moved it naturally. It had approached Harrid like a hand about to shake his or one about to pat his back, and the knife had been there all along, but it never appeared to be threatening him. If he hadn't noticed the glint coming off the metal, he wouldn't have noticed there was a knife to begin with. Even when he noticed it, the hand didn't hasten. It slid through the air with no hurry. He knew that its inevitable target was his throat, but it just seemed to be heading somewhere else. It wasn't threatening, even now. He hesitated, and that moment of hesitation was enough for the fat, blunt point of the knife to poke him in the neck.

When he looked closely, it was blunt all over, and could hardly be said to have a point, but it was obviously made from good iron.

"You'll have to learn this too," Master Rudolf gave him a smirk. "Your hands are just like your feet. They should never know where they're going. Only you should."

Harrid nodded solemnly, watching the blade withdrawing from his neck.

"And next time don't let your intentions betray you," Master Rudolf continued. "Your intent to walk towards the maid was apparent. You didn't simply walk. You walked towards her back. That's why the servant noticed you. The difference might be negligible, but a man's eyes were made to catch the negligible."

Harrid nodded again. "I won't make such a mistake again."

"Perhaps you won't, during training," Master Rudolf said, more to himself than to Harrid. His eyes veered off for a moment then they returned to Harrid again, narrowing. "We have more important matters to discuss though. Let us go somewhere else."

..

.

In one of the keep's halls, Harrid and Master Rudolf stood together.

Master Rudolf looked at the walls and said, "it used to be the minister's, when the Viscounty was faring better. I reckon Arthur will remember it soon enough."

"Is something the matter, Master Rudolf?" Harrid asked, anxious. The old steward had never deemed anything more important than training before.

"Yes," Master Rudolf said, looking him in the eye. "I told you there were two conditions if you wanted to be trained by me. Remember?"

Harrid nodded.

"It is time for you to know them, and choose whether you want to continue your training or not," Master Rudolf said. Though his tone suggested that he didn't think there were really any choices.

Harrid didn't think otherwise. He would do anything to become strong enough . . . There was only one choice. The other was folly.

Master Rudolf gulped. Harrid, for the first time, saw him hesitant to speak.

The old steward shortly recollected his bearings. He fixed his eyes on Harrid's and said, "I have no sons, Harrid. No one to carry my name." He paused, pressing his lips. "My first condition is for you to carry the name of my family for the rest of your life, like a son of mine. So that you may bear children of your own, who would also carry the name of the family."

Harrid knitted his brows for a moment then he slowly nodded. It wasn't like he had any family name to hold on to. A family name would be more of a privilege than a burden. It was such a simple condition.

"And of my blood."

Harrid frowned, confused. He stared at Master Rudolf.

"The name alone isn't enough. Your children will have to carry the blood of my family as well. My second condition is for you to marry my daughter. She's a bit older than you and she's still in Malfi city but—"

The next words escaped Harrid's notice as he stepped back, a jolt going up his spine and dizzying his head. "I can't," he muttered, stepping back farther.

Master Rudolf, who had still been talking, stopped. He looked at him oddly, cocking his head.

Harrid moved back more and more, until he was at the doors of the hall. "Apologies, Master Rudolf. I can't. I really can't." For the first time, he saw worry and perhaps disappointment on Master Rudolf's face.

"Why, Harrid?" the old man said, his voice not as firm as Harrid had been used to. "You'll get everything a boy of your age dreams of." He tried to step closer to him, but Harrid stepped back once more, backing out of the hall. "I'll have you knighted soon after you come of age if you agree. I can promise you—"

Harrid shook his head and ran off, leaving Master Rudolf. He heard a yell from behind.

"You only need to have a child with her, a boy. You can do anything you want after that."

Harrid didn't stop. He kept running, thinking of only one person, Yanna. He would never . . .

Where was he going? he wondered. If he returned to his chambers, how would he face Master Rudolf next time? He was no longer the lord's attendant. Would he have to leave, to live in the streets again?

He wanted to run, just to run, but he slowed down. Then he came to a stop. He rubbed his hair then his forehead. The pain of his thoughts had materialized and was shooting through his head.

He wanted to see her. He knew where he had to go now. There.

Chapter 74

Chapter 74

After going through several streets and two alleys, Harrid found himself in front of the house; an old ragged building that was barely standing.

He walked up to the door and knocked. A moment passed before the door was opened by a girl, Yanna.

He stared at her shining eyes. They were what he found loveliest about her. Some had called her cursed because of them, because of the way they captured one's attention. "Yanna," he uttered with a dry throat.

It took her a moment to realize who it was, then concern crept onto her face. "Harrid, are you well?"

Before he could answer, a shadow appeared behind her. It was one of the guards the lord had sent to protect her. He glanced at Harrid and seemed to recognize him, then he stepped back into the house.

Harrid moved his eyes back to Yanna.

She gestured for him to enter, and he did. She led him into one of the rooms and then turned around, staring at him. "Tell me."

"I'm well, Yanna. I just wanted to see you," he said, refusing to meet her eyes.

"You're lying," she said, pointing at his face and chuckling. "You can't lie to me, Harrid." She paused for a moment and laughed again. "Heh, you can't lie to anyone."

He sighed and chuckled nervously. "It is nothing. You need not worry about me."

She fiddled with her hair for a moment, apparently puzzled. Then she stepped closer and took him by the hands, pulling him towards one of the chairs and sitting him down. "I have no one else to worry about."

He sat down and gazed at her eyes again. How clever they always seemed. The first time he'd seen them, they'd invoked some kind of trust from within him, trust in her. They had become friends since then; companions in the struggle of hunger and treading alleys.

"Speak," she said impatiently, jerking her face closer to his until he could see nothing else but her features. She was scrutinizing him, waiting to catch him trying to lie again.

He smiled anxiously and fidgeted in his seat, wishing he could run again. "Master Rudolf." He threw the words out, neglecting to say anything else.

"He's training you now, right?" she tilted her head. "Has something gone wrong with your training? Did you do something wrong?" She narrowed her eyes.

The continuous questions didn't give him a chance to answer. He gave her a glare for her lack of faith in him. Then he said, "I didn't."

"Then what is it?" she said, withdrawing her head. "Tell me already, Harrid." She gave him a tired look.

"Ahem," he gulped, twisting further into his seat. "Master Rudolf. He . . . He told me that I have to marry his daughter if I want to continue receiving his training and become a knight."

Yanna froze for a moment, then she seemed to get a grip on herself and relaxed. She gulped too. "And what did you say?"

He rubbed his head and flashed an embarrassed half-smile. "I ran."

"You ran?" She stared at him, perplexed.

"Yes. He surprised me." He paused for a moment and looked at her, his eyes drooping slightly. "But I didn't accept." He smiled.

Yanna frowned. "Why did he want you to marry his daughter?"

Harrid took a breath. "He has no sons. He wanted me to carry the name of his family, and he wanted me to have children of his family as well. He said I had to marry his daughter for my children to be truly of his family,of his blood. Carrying his name isn't enough. He even said that I only need to have a child with his daughter, and I would be free after that."

"And what was your answer to that?" she asked.

He smiled wryly and said, "I was running."

Yanna sighed and shook her head. "We can't go back to the streets Harrid."

"I know," he nodded.

She was silent for a moment, apparently contemplating something. Then she looked at him with determination. "Accept it, Harrid."

"What?" He jumped up, staring at her. "But . . . I can't." His eyes were unmoving, still fixed on her.

"You must," she said. "You aren't the lord's attendant anymore, and you know Master Rudolf is closer to the lord than we are. If we return to those alleys again . . . " She shook her head. "You must accept. You would become a knight, Harrid. We wouldn't have anything to fear anymore."

"But . . . " he stepped closer to her. "You."

"I know, Harrid," she gave him a sad smile and extended her hand, touching his fingers. "I will wait for you. You only need to have a child with her. So that we may become stronger. I'm learning how to read. You must learn how to fight."

"I—I don't know," he looked at her hand that touched his.

"It would be worse in the streets, Harrid. We would never be able to stay together. I've seen what happens to girls who show signs of growing up."

He gulped and nodded, clenching his fist. "I will accept."

She stepped closer and held his hand tighter. "I won't go anywhere."

He nodded and felt his heart beat louder than ever. "I will return to Master Rudolf before nightfall. Perhaps he will forgive me."

ß----------------------------------------à

Gerald flipped another page of his brother's journal and continued reading. He was near the end, but he hadn't read anything peculiar so far.

'Father is hiding something. I heard one of his guards whisper to him about trespassers from the south. It must have been that devil spawn, Westwell. What more does he want? Does he want to rob our coffers too? A wolf like him won't be sated with the mine he'd taken. The more we give him, the more he will covet.'

Gerald stopped. He hadn't heard about any trespassing from Arthur. The minister wouldn't have neglected to mention something of that sort when he'd asked him about the neighbors to the south.

'I ask and ask, yet he refuses to give me an honest answer. Yesterday, he even silenced me. I was so furious that I couldn't even find the journal to confide in for a whole day. My anger had blinded me from seeing it lying behind the candles. I must be going mad, but I won't let myself become him.'

Gerald raised a brow. He'd found the journal behind the candles as well, but not in his brother's chambers. His brother's inability to find the journal on the mentioned day also led him to have some doubts. Perhaps his father had found it and had returned it a day later. He skimmed through another two pages, both about his brother's buried anger and his promises to change everything. Then he flipped a few more pages until he reached the tale of a different day.

'I haven't seen father anxious like this for years. Something seems to be in the works, but he won't speak to me. I often find him pacing or in deep contemplation. He hasn't been this lively for a very long time. Perhaps it's something about my siblings? I will have to wait if I want to know.'

Gerald stopped reading when he heard a knock on the study's door. "Come in."

Frederick stepped in with a book in his hand. "My lord."

"Frederick," Gerald said, glancing at the unfamiliar book in the lad's hand. "Is someone without?"

"No, my lord," Frederick said. "I've brought this for you." He raised the book in his hands. "I thought you would like to read through it. It's a rare one." He approached the table and laid the book down.

"'The High Covenant'. It's a difficult one to get indeed," Gerald said, taking the book in his hands. He ran his hand over the smooth leather cover and the title carved into it. The High Covenant was quite well known across the continent. Two hundred years ago, all the Battlesaints on the continent had gathered and swore to not break the Covenant. Apparently, they had that no Battlesaint or Battlemaster was to be allowed to murder sovereigns. Gerald was not aware of the details of the Covenant. He only knew that it was what prevented the strongest Warriors of the continent from attempting to take the lives of Kings.

"Yes, my lord. This book is harder and harder to find the farther you travel south. Its author is still alive in the Kanad Kingdom."

Gerald nodded and rested the book on the table.

Frederick glanced at the bookcases in the study and then looked at Gerald. "Can I . . . ?"

"No," Gerald said, taking the journal in his hands again. "I will return your book when I finish it." In the corner of his eyes, he saw Frederick forcing a smile and nodding.

"My lord!" a breathless yell came from outside. Gerald recognized it as Robard's.

The knight trotted into the study followed by Arthur. The pair entered with red faces, obviously from anger.

"What is it?" Gerald stood up. Their voice suggested that he wouldn't be able to continue his reading for the day.

Arthur gestured for Robard and spoke first. "Lucas has sent word. His scouts have spotted a group of men passing through the southern pass. They aren't merchants. We believe they might be Count Westwell's men."

Gerald frowned. "What makes you think they're not merchants?"

"They didn't continue north, my lord. They've headed west. Lucas even thought that they had entered the basin with your consent at first."

Gerald's frown deepened. There was nothing southwest of Ard except a large forest. Were they heading there? "Are there many of them?"

"No, my lord," Robard said. "According to the scouts, there are about twenty of them. Some are armed, and some aren't."

"Why do you think they're Westwell's men?" Gerald glanced at his old minister.

Arthur pressed his lips then said, "because they seem to be prospecting he mountains for ore veins, my lord."

The corner of Gerald's mouth twitched then his jaw clenched instinctively. "He is a damned devil spawn," he muttered to himself. He'd thought that their neighbors to the south would begin to understand that his house wasn't the downtrodden prey it had been before, and the Baronies' attempt at befriending him had led him to believe that he was on the right path, but it seemed that things weren't going to be that simple.

"Summon Gasper."

Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Gasper walked through the gates into the keep. He'd been summoned by the Viscount, and he'd had to get his elite corps ready to move. It seemed his first challenge was drawing near.

He quickly traversed the hallways and the stairwells of the keep and reached the lord's study. He found Frederick outside, waiting for him.

"How is life here in the keep?" Gasper said. "Not that there is reason to worry about you. You are a fortunate lad after all."

Frederick snorted. "I'm not the one who was knighted."

Gasper gave him the side-eye and wanted to say, I'm not the heir to a Duchy. But he had other things to bother with for now.

He was shown into the study, where the Viscount, Arthur, and Sir Robard stood around the table.

"Gasper," the Viscount called out as soon as Gasper entered.

"My lord," Gasper bowed.

"There is no time for courtesies," the Viscount said, pointing at the map in front of him. "Come here."

Gasper nodded and stepped closer to the table. A map of the basin was spread over it, and everyone's eyes were fixed on the south. "Did something happen with Lucas?"

"It's not Lucas," Sir Robard said, glancing at him impatiently. "There are trespassers from the south."

Gasper frowned. He knew of the neighbors to the south from his father, but he didn't know who'd want to sneak into the basin and for what reason. "Who is it?"

"We're not certain," the Viscount said, glancing at his two aides. "At least not for now. They're in the southwest, prospecting for ore veins. I want you to take the elite corps and thoroughly wipe them out. You'll outnumber and likely outclass them. You must encircle them and not let anyone escape."

Gasper nodded. It seemed the lord was quite furious about the matter, though it wasn't apparent on his face. Perhaps there was more to it than that. "Shouldn't I capture any of them?"

"You should," the Viscount said. "But only if there is no risk of them escaping. None are to leave the basin. That should be your foremost concern. Attempt capture only if the enemy is fully within your hands."

"Yes, my lord," Gasper said.

"Now go. There is not much time to waste. Who knows when they might leave."

Gasper nodded and paced out of the study.

..

He was met by his men south of Ard. Everyone was mounted, and they headed southwest, where their targets were likely wandering.

They rode from morning till afternoon. It was then that the mountains became clearer to their eyes.

Gasper and his men came across one of Lucas's scouts on the way. He directed them farther west, and showed them the trespassers trail.

After some time riding west, he had most of his men spread out in pairs and scout the mountains south of them. He also took twenty of his men and waited on a small hill, awaiting news from his scouts.

The sun hadn't moved much before his scouts returned. A pair of them had returned with news, too.

They had spotted the trespassers busy doing something in the mountains south of them.

Seeing that most of his scouts had returned, Gasper led his men towards their targets.

Once they'd ridden close enough, Gasper stopped his men and dismounted. He accompanied the two scouts that had spotted the enemy.

The scouts led him farther south until they came upon an area of lower ground. "We need to crawl from here, Sir," one of them told him.

Gasper nodded, and they began crawling around that area of lower ground. They didn't descend. They just circled the higher ground for a while until they spotted the trespassers from above.

Gasper saw twenty horses below, and his targets were returning from the mountains, apparently disappointed. They began to mount their horses but they didn't move right away. They began to converse. Gasper couldn't hear what they were talking about, but it seemed more of a disagreement than a discussion.

"Won't we bring the rest of the corps and attack them yet, Sir?" one of his scouts asked.

Gasper shook his head. "We can't risk attacking them when they're mounted. We must not let anyone escape." He didn't fancy the thought of simply outnumbering them on horseback. It was likely that none of them would be able to flee, but there was still the risk of a fortunate enemy slipping through their ranks and galloping away. On foot, it would be near impossible to escape. "We will wait until they dismount again. You two stay here and keep an eye on them. I will bring the rest of the men."

The two nodded, and Gasper turned around and crawled back the way he came. After crawling far enough, he stood up and ran back to the rest of his men.

When he returned, the clatter of hooves and metal rang among his men. "Get moving!" he yelled, mounting his horse and galloping back towards the mountains. His men followed him, and they quickly drew closer to the lower ground.

When they did, he brought his horse to a stop and raised his hand, stopping his men. He dismounted and took one of his Warriors towards the other two who were watching their enemies. He crawled around the lower ground again and reached the two who were waiting for him. He glanced down and saw their targets still mounted but unmoving. "Why haven't they moved yet?"

"We don't know," one of the scouts said. "There was shouting among them then there was some silence. Then they began discussing something again until now."

Gasper peered down again. He saw the twenty riders preparing to leave. "Well, it seems they've come to a decision." He turned to the subordinate he'd brought along and said, "go bring the rest of the men, quickly."

His subordinate nodded and crawled away hastily.

Gasper peered down again, watching his targets begin to ride even farther west. In a few moments they had departed, leaving behind a trail of dust.

Soon, Gasper's men arrived, bringing his horse. He told the two scouts to get mounted. They were to ride ahead and keep track of the trespassers, while he and the rest of corps followed from farther back.

..

He rode with his men, following the trail left by the twenty horses and his two scouts. But he didn't ride for long.

Soon enough, one of his scouts returned. "They've come to a stop, Sir, and they're going into the mountains again."

Gasper roused his horse and led his men towards where their targets had stopped. The other scout was there, waiting for them. "They've already gone into the mountains, on foot."

"Good," Gasper dismounted, commanding his men to do the same. "We'll follow."

He and his men trotted until they reached the horses of the trespassers. They were tied to a dying tree, and their owners had gone into a small pass that led deeper into the mountains. He turned to his men. "How far is the forest?"

"Not too far from here, Sir. We could reach it on foot if we headed farther west."

Gasper nodded then eyed the speaker. "I'll leave twenty men with you here at the entrance. If any flee in this direction, end them." He then turned to the rest of the men and signaled for them to follow as he headed into the pass.

Tracking in the mountains was quite difficult. So they would have to follow the path and hope for the best. As they walked cautiously on, Gasper gave the crowd of Warriors following him a glance. "Here, you'll have to fight in pairs," he said, his tone serious. He remembered his last and only battle in the mountains, when the lord had died. "Don't try to stick together in groups, you'll only slow each other down. Always find your footing before committing to combat, and try to choose where you fight, instead of letting your opponent do so."

His advice was met with silent but serious nods.

The path didn't split up as he'd expected it. They had to walk for quite a while before they heard yells from ahead.

Gasper quickly turned to his men. "Encircle them if there is room. If you can't kill the nearest enemy, then at least delay them. Most importantly, don't let anyone flee." He looked ahead then moved forward. The path took a turn and then it widened and widened until it became a rocky bowl-like area. He cursed under his breath. Fighting here would be messy.

It took him only a moment to spy the twenty men marked for death far to his right, at the edge of the bowl. "Go!" he whispered.

Their enemies only noticed their arrival when the Warriors began spreading in the bowl. Gasper's Warriors encircled the enemy, while the latter grouped together in a defensive formation.

"Who are you?" a bulkier one among the twenty shouted.

Gasper glanced at him, noticing that he was centered in the middle of the enemies. He assumed that he was their leader. Behind him stood four unarmed men, and they seemed harmless. "I could ask the same of you. Who are you? And what are you doing in House Tellus's lands?"

"So you're Tellus's men?" the man said. "You don't know what trouble you're bringing upon yourselves. You would be wise to leave now."

"We will," Gasper said. "After you're dead." He glanced at his men and nodded. "Attack."

His Warriors had successfully encircled the enemy, but they were on lower ground, and movement would be difficult during the uneven, rocky climb.

He tried to lead his men up slowly, but the enemy sought to use their advantage.

Their leader gestured for his men to charge at Gasper's Warriors. "We can break through this rabble," he yelled at his men.

Gasper saw ten enemies charge towards his right flank, while six others faced him, including their leader.

Gasper was followed closely by ten Warriors, while his flanks had twenty men each. His position was actually the safest, since breaking through the middle would land the enemy in the bottom of the bowl.

The six that were heading towards him were likely trying to stop him from supporting his right flank. His close-by ten Warriors took his advice and split up into pairs. They headed forward with him, and they met the six enemies. Gasper met their leader in the middle, while his men met the other five, as if by silent agreement. Perhaps they thought that joining him in combat would be a slight on his honor? He didn't know, but he brought his sword forward and met his opponent's.

As soon as the swords clashed, he was pushed back and almost slipped down the rocks. "Sky warrior?" he stared at his opponent who seemed as surprised as he was.

"Who the hell are you? I thought only Robard was left," the man said.

Gasper didn't answer. He used the slight pause to steer to the right and try to even the ground with his opponent. War cries rang through the rocky walls and a slaughter commenced.

Gasper lunged at his opponent again, but didn't go all the way. He only used the tip of his sword to test his defense, hopefully causing him to lose his balance.

"We won't just flee," his opponent said. "Your men will be massacred."

Gasper didn't spare his men a glance, and his opponent didn't have such luxury either. But there was always time for taunts when their swords were apart. The man stepped forward and threw an overhead slash.

Gasper sidestepped, avoiding it. Then he lunged forward for a thrust, but his foot slipped and it missed completely.

His opponent used the chance to attempt to cleave him through the ribs, but Gasper leapt back at the last possible moment, the tip of the sword scratching his breastplate. "I'm never wearing this damn thing again," he muttered to himself. His steel armor had forced him to move most of his body while trying his earlier thrust, which lost him his footing. If he'd had more freedom with his body, he would have kept his balance and perhaps landed the thrust, though it wasn't too strong.

The enemy Sky Warrior stepped back and sneered at him. "Heh." Then his face paled as he heard a yell.

"Sir! They're Warriors."

He looked behind Gasper and seemed to see something that horrified him. "How many Warriors have you brought here?"

"There are no regular soldiers here," Gasper smiled, listening to the groans and yells of dying men. "I'm assuming most of your men are Warriors too. But we outnumber you by quite a bit." He stepped forward towards the frozen man.

The latter got a grip on himself a little but not too late and managed to parry a thrust from Gasper who followed it by a quick slash, which was barely blocked.

Gasper gritted his teeth and stepped back to regain his balance. His men were mostly done with their enemies, but they were giving him and his opponent wide berth. Perhaps being a knight has its downsides after all, he thought.

He brought his sword up and circled it down to the side, attempting a low slash.

His opponent stepped back and received it with a soft parry, then followed with a riposte.

Gasper spun halfway, evading the countering thrust. As soon as the thrust missed, his opponent leapt back; which was what he would have done, exactly what he would have done. That was why he didn't try a quick counter of his own, but he took two quick steps forward, keeping himself within striking distance of his opponent who hadn't brought his sword to defend yet. Gasper gripped his sword with both hands and turned with all the strength in his waist and feet, slashing at his enemy's throat. His sword opened a deep wound on the Sky Warrior's neck and left him bleeding profusely.

The latter tried to stop his wound from bleeding with a hand while bringing his sword to defend with the other, but the bleeding had long gotten out of his control.

Gasper stepped back and let his adversary bleed out, lest he find himself on the receiving end of a desperate strike.

"You'll pay for this," the enemy commander said. Gasper assumed he was a knight, since one of his dying men had called him 'Sir'.

He stepped towards his dying opponent and said, "I've brushed shoulders with death a few times already." He stared down at the knight who was no longer capable of even kneeling. He was in a sort of groveling position, drenched in blood and barely breathing. "It does bring fear to one's heart; there is no doubt about that. But threats? They don't." He plunged his sword through the open neck of the knight's armor, burying it in his heart.

As he pulled the sword out, he saw his men looking up the slope at the four unarmed men. He stepped up and looked at them too.

There was middle-aged man and three young lads behind him. He stepped forward and gulped. "Good Sir, this one is Prospecting Adept GeorjayAleysio. We have no grievances with your House, and we have no place in this bloodshed. If you will let me meet your good lord, I would be most grateful."

Gasper raised a brow. The man seemed quite courteous for one who was at death's door, not stuttering, not raving, but composed. He respected that, considering that it didn't look like he was intent on sparing anyone. "Very well. You shall meet the lord."

Chapter 76

Chapter 76

Gerald took his seat in the Lord's Hall. Arthur arrived and stood beside him. It also seemed that the matter had attracted Renard's attention, since he arrived and took his place on the other side of his seat.

Moments, then Frederick opened the doors of the hall, letting Robard in. The latter trotted towards Gerald then whispered, "Gasper showed me the head of their commander, my lord. It was indeed one of Westwell's knights."

Gerald nodded. It was no surprise to him. He had just been waiting for the affirmation. He wondered why his rival Count would send a knight and quite a few Warriors for a prospecting journey. According to Gasper, they were pretty intent on protecting the four unarmed men that were captured.

Robard stepped down and took his place two steps below Gerald's seat.

Gerald nodded to Frederick who opened the doors again and stepped outside. After a few moments, he returned, a few soldiers in his trail leading the prisoners in. Gasper came last. He bowed to Gerald and stepped up to stand beside Robard.

"The trespassers, my lord," one of the soldiers announced.

Gerald ran is eyes over the four; three lads and a middle-aged man. The lads were disheveled, their attires dirtied and torn at several spots. But the man fared much better. His garments were clean. His countenance wasn't as panicked as his followers. The small beard covering his chin reached up the sides of his mouth, touching his moustache. His hair was short and he had a flattering smile plastered on his face. Gerald could tell that he was barely holding himself back from blabbering, so he gestured for him to speak.

The man stepped forward and bowed with a hand on his chest. "This one is Georjay Aleysio, my lord. It is by the Mother's blessing that I make your acquaintance. Being here, there is no man more fortunate than I am."

Gerald narrowed his eyes. "The Mother? You're from Andross?"

Georjay nodded with fervor, much like a chicken would do when pecking an adversary. "This one was born in the Kingdom of Kanad, was raised in the Empire of Andross, and is seeking his fortune in the Kingdom of Maric."

Gerald nodded. The Mother's Shrine was a dominant religion in Andross. It was more prevalent in the north of the Empire, but that didn't prevent shrines from appearing in southern cities like Malfi City. "And what fortune do you seek by trespassing on my lands, Georjay Aleysio?"

Georjay raised his hands in feigned innocence. "My lord, I dare not trespass on your lands. I simply followed the wishes of those who have hired me. I am, after all, a Prospecting Adept. In my excitement to pursue my passion, I have neglected my ignorance of where I was being herded to."

Gerald snorted. It was unlikely that he hadn't known exactly where he'd been going, but Gerald ignored the blatant lie. "Prospecting Adept?" He glanced at Arthur by his side. His old minister shook his head with a similarly puzzled face. Gerald looked at Georjay and cocked his head. "And what might a Prospecting Adept be?" The meaning of thewords was quite clear to the ears of everyone, but Gerald had never heard of such a trade.

Georjay cleared his throat and smiled. "My lord, this art of mine has become rare in these lands. I am one of the remaining few who practice this art with such skill."

His proud smile made Gerald's brow twitch. "Art?" He sneered. "This art of yours, how important is it to Count Westwell?"

"It is important to all those of noble birth, my lord. If there are hidden ore veins in your territory, you can count on this one to find them."

Gerald cocked his head again, giving Georjay a doubtful stare. "The ores in my territory have all been mined by my forefathers. You have no use to me."

"Allow this one to disagree, my lord," Georjay bowed his head. "All the ores in your territory have been harvested by your lordship's noble forefathers. It might have escaped your notice, but I believe that only open-air mines have been made use of through the history of this basin. I also believe that there are untapped sources and mines in the depths of the mountains. They will require effort to be mined, but they're there, waiting."

Gerald's interest was piqued. He glanced at Arthur who seemed uncertain. Then he said, "can you find these mines?"

"It would be a long quest, my lord, but I believe I can. If, by any chance, there were written histories of the previous open-air mines harvested by your lordship's forefathers, then they would provide plenty of help to this one, and we might be able to find the veins sooner."

Gerald leaned back in his seat. Almost every bit of his family's history was indeed written down on some parchment or in some book and stored in the keep. Perhaps he could benefit from this after all. He gestured to Arthur who leaned down. "Find him somewhere to stay, but keep him under guard."

"Yes, my lord."

Georjay below cleared his throat again, beseeching Gerald to allow him to speak again.

Gerald gestured for him impatiently, allowing him to speak.

"My lord, this one works much better with the help of his apprentices. I hope you can find mercy for them if you intend to find it for this one."

Gerald paused for a moment then nodded.

.

After Georjay and his apprentices were shown out, Arthur, Robard, and Gasper remained with Gerald in the Lord's Hall.

He was wondering whether he would be fortunate enough to find a buried fortune in his territory. He thought of gold, but almost snorted at the idea. He couldn't be that fortunate. He glanced at Robard. "Send for Lucas to put some of his men at the southern pass. I don't want this to happen again." He'd kept the southern pass unmanned so as not to slow down the movement of trade. He'd preferred not to stop each caravan passing through the narrow pass just to make sure that it carried no suspicious people, but Westwell was already forcing his hand.

Robard nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"Arthur, prepare every written chronicle written down and stored in the keep and have Frederick deliver them to me in my study tomorrow," Gerald said. He couldn't just give all of his family's chronicles to Georjay, hoping that he would find an answer. There were many things in those chronicles that were only for the eyes of the House's heirs.

Arthur nodded.

Gerald smiled at Gasper. "You did well, Gasper."

"It is only my duty, my lord."

ß--------------------------------------------------à

Alaric Westwell was in the Lord's Hall, accompanied by his minister. He tapped the arm of his seat impatiently. "They haven't returned yet."

"Perhaps they're delayed, my lord," Marle, his minister, said. "Georjay wasn't certain of where he would find the veins."

"It's already been a few days late," Alaric said. "Send someone."

"Yes, my lord," Marle said. "Ezrel is there, though. You should not worry. I'm certain he can bring Georjay home if something goes awry."

Alaric nodded.

There was a knock on the hall's doors. The attendant came in and announced, "the young lord is here, my lord."

Alaric perked up and nodded. "Let him in." He wore a warm smile as his son entered on a wooden wheel chair pushed by a servant. The servant pushed the wheel chair up a stone ramp and brought Alaric's son to his side. He then bowed and left the hall.

"Father," Simuel said. "Have you got important matters to attend to? I can leave." He was only eleven years of age, but he was a bright boy. Alaric only worried about his excessive kindness at times.

"No, no," Alaric shook his head. "Stay. How did your hunt go?" He gazed at his son, a string shaking in his heart. His aides had advised him to find a new wife after his son's mother had died, but he hadn't taken their advice. He knew that they wanted him to have another son, another heir, one that wasn't crippled. But he wouldn't do that to Simuel.

He would expand and expand. He would make the House strong enough for his son to take the reins without worries after him. The physicians had said that his son could have children, even though he was crippled. That was enough to quell his worries regarding the fate of the House.

He had other worries though. His aides, most of them didn't have faith in his son. Perhaps the boy was too kind, but that wasn't the real problem. They disdained having a crippled lord.

He often sneered when he thought of it. He would make sure that they wouldn't have a crippled lord, that was for sure. He didn't know when he would do it, but in time he would put an end to the lives of those aides, even Marle.

This was his thirty-first winter. He intended to leave such bloody work to his older years. Perhaps his son would be ready to take the reins by then.

…

..

.

Alaric washed his face with warm water from the basin. He ran the water through his orderly stubble and cleaned his eyes thoroughly.

When he walked out, Marle was waiting for him with a pale complexion. "My lord."

"What is it, Marle?" Alaric glared at him. It had been a few days since he'd sent someone to check on his Knight and Prospecting Adept who'd snuck into the Tellus territory, and he'd been having an unsettling feeling in his gut since then.

"The southern pass has been blocked by Tellus soldiers," Marle said, gulping. "They're checking every caravan that passes now. The man we've sent attempted to sneak in, but he almost got caught. They seem to be quite alert."

Alaric bobbed his head, suppressed fury in his nods. He gritted his teeth, and through them he said, "then the runt has caught my men."

"My lord, I would suggest—"

Alaric fixed his minister with a disdainful stare then ignored him and swam in his thoughts for a few moments.

"Send a messenger. Tell the Tellus boy to send my envoys back."

"But, my lord, this . . . "

"Unless he wants to make an enemy out of me, he will send them back. Hopefully, Georjay and Ezrel are still alive."

Marle pressed his lips. "I suppose it could be managed, my lord. But all of this means that your wish to mine in the basin is no more, yes?" the minister looked at him with a hopeful countenance.

Alaric broke into laughter. Sometimes he felt that his aides had wooden spines. Marle was specially cautious. He appreciated that caution at times, but mostly it acted as a hurdle in his way. "There will be other opportunities to look for those mines. That boy can't stand against me. If Georjay is right, then there is a lot to gain in that basin, and I'm not about to let such a chance slip through my fingers."

Marle grimaced at the answer. "The conflict with the Viscounty in the south is already taking a toll on us, my lord. Shouldn't we seek a peaceful standing in the north? Must we overstretch ourselves for some mines that we are not certain exist?"

Alaric shook his head. Marle had served his father in the latter's older years. The minister was fifty years of age by now, and he was always seeking stability in the County. It was annoying at times. "You don't understand, Marle." He stepped closer to his minister, looking him in the eyes. "In these lands, you only get what you take."

Chapter 77

Chapter 77

Gerald flipped through another parchment, exhausted. Two days of going through his family's chronicles had only reaped him accounts on three mines. And there was still a mountain of books, journals, and parchments to go through. He'd already forgotten the shape of his table that was now buried under this monstrous collection of family history.

Even the ground around the table was piled with books and journals. Ones that he planned to go through soon, and even ones he was already done with. In the corner of the study, he'd isolated some very important accounts, including some that mentioned the Inheritance Hall and the Ancestral Chambers.

There was a knock on the door, then Frederick came in, loaded with books and journals that he could barely carry. He pulled his feet closer to the table, dumping the weight like the chains of a freed slave. "That's all, my lord. Master Arthur says there are no more."

Gerald nodded without glancing up from the parchment in hand. He waved Frederick away.

The latter moved to leave but stopped at the door. "My lord, I could help you. I enjoy reading history, so it wouldn't bore me."

Gerald shot him a doubtful glance.

"It wouldn't bore me as fast as it would bore others," Frederick shrugged.

Gerald laid the parchment on the table and sighed. He was going through the more minute details of his family's history now. He'd already sought out any prominent accounts of his family's secrets and isolated them.

A helping hand was always welcome, one that could be trusted; specially the kind of trust he favored the most, one which came from dependence on him for survival.

He nodded to the lad and gestured for him to go for one of the piles on the ground. Then he attacked his laborious task again.

It wasn't long before he heard an excited yell from Frederick. "I found one, my lord." He handed him an open journal.

Gerald took it and found an account of a tin mine that existed in the west of the basin some two hundred years ago. He placed it above the three other accounts he'd found and nodded to Frederick.

"Must be fortunate," he muttered himself.

About as much time passed before he heard another yell from the lad. Gerald's mouth twitched a bit. "What is it?"

"Another one, my lord. This one seems to be about a copper mine in the east. It was a small one and it ran dry in several years. Nothing else is mentioned here." He waved a parchment.

Gerald received the parchment while fixing Frederick with an odd stare. The latter was taken aback by his piercing eyes and said, "something the matter, my lord?"

Gerald shook his head and read through the parchment then placed it above the other accounts.

By the end of the day, Frederick had found another four written accounts of mines that used to be in the basin, while Gerald had only found one.

"We continue on the morrow?" Frederick said as they both climbed out of the book hill.

"Yes," Gerald nodded. He watched as the lad left the study then he remembered something and yelled, "Frederick."

Frederick returned. "My lord."

Gerald gestured towards the two bookcases on opposite walls of the study. "You can borrow."

Frederick's face bloomed with a bright grin and he shot glances at the bookcases, likely thinking of what he would take.

Gerald snorted as he saw the excessively hopeful look on his face. "Just one."

Frederick's grin descended into a pitiful smile and he nodded, as if he'd realized how his imagination had deceived him. He headed for the bookcase that held Gerald's books and chose a book, taking it with him as he left.

Gerald sighed and returned to his bedchamber. It would be sleep then back into the chronicles, then sleep again.

…

..

.

Three days later, Gerald and Frederick had gone through most of the family's chronicles.

Gerald summoned Arthur to the study and had him deliver the uncovered accounts to Georjay. The Prospecting Adept was to head to the mountains in the southwest and recommence his search for ore veins again after the receiving the mining history of his family. Anything that Gerald uncovers later would be sent to him as well.

ß---------------------------------------à

Harrid held the training dagger with a soft grip. He waved it from the right towards Master Rudolf's neck, a slow side thrust.

Master Rudolf slapped his wrist and shook his head. "You're still moving your hand instead of letting it move."

Harrid grimaced. Was it the hundredth time yet? He didn't know. Master Rudolf had told him that unlike moving towards your target, stabbing them without showing any intent depended more on repetition. The more one repeats the motion, the more it feels natural to their body, and it becomes more like a handshake than an aggressive motion. That was why he had to come to the training grounds every day just to repeat this motion. Of course, before that he would have to go through the movement and sight patterns training.

He had reconciled with Master Rudolf a few days ago after speaking to Yanna. The old steward had accepted him back without a second thought, which had puzzled Harrid. They had agreed that Harrid was to carry his name and bear a child with his daughter, then he was free to do what he wanted after.

The old man's treatment had become a little rigid after last time's incident. And Harrid couldn't help but act odd himself at times. It was difficult to forget what was asked of him, and perhaps difficult for Master Rudolf to forget how he'd left—or escaped—that day.

Harrid took his hand back to his side and began again. He took a few steps back until he was a few yards from Master Rudolf. Then he walked towards him. When he was close enough he stopped and, without a change of expression, he raised his dagger and waved it in for a slow thrust towards the old man's neck. The thrust sailed towards the latter's throat then sped up when it was an inch or two from the skin. Harrid held back his strength at the last moment and the dull dagger just poked Master Rudolf's neck.

The old man sighed, apparently having never intended to stop this time's thrust. "At least there is some improvement."

Harrid panted a little and nodded. He'd had to hold his breath while doing it, even though Master Rudolf had told him not to.

"Perhaps it's time to do some real training," Master Rudolf said, a curious gaze on his face.

Harrid hesitated for a moment, because such a suggestion would often come with a smile from the old man. But the change wasn't much considering the stale relationship between them recently. Harrid scratched his head. "I don't think anyone would be happy if I stab them, Master Rudolf."

The old steward dismissed his words with a shake of the head and said, "I know someone." He turned around and walked towards the doors leading into the keep.

Harrid followed him into the keep, and they walked through several hallways before they came to a stop not far from the Lord's study.

Master Rudolf pointed ahead. "Him."

Harrid saw the young man donning black leather armor with charcoal hair resting on his temples. "That's Sir Gasper," he hissed.

Master Rudolf nodded with a smile. Only, this smile didn't bring Harrid any warmth but quite a few worries.

"I can't attack, Sir Gasper," Harrid said. He couldn't help but imagine the metal gauntlet on the young knight's wrist smashing his face into a pulp.

"He won't mind," Master Rudolf said. "Worry not. When he learns that it's me who sent you, he won't harm you."

"Won't you tell him first?" Harrid pleaded.

"And where would the difficulty be in that? He mustn't know, and you mustn't be ready. Now go."

Harrid gulped. He muttered his goodbyes to whichever number of teeth he was going to lose and took a laborious step towards the young knight.

Sir Gasper was speaking to Frederick, the new attendant and squire to the lord. By the time Harrid was close enough, the young knight was done talking and was about to leave.

"Sir Gasper," Harrid called.

The young knight turned around and saw him. "Ah, it's you. Something the matter?"

Harrid smiled as he stepped within stabbing range of the young knight who was more than a head taller than him. He'd grown taller recently, but he was still quite a bit below an average man's height.

Sir Gasper was still smiling when Harrid raised his hand smoothly into the air, sailing the dagger in his hand towards the knight's throat. The dull blade moved unhindered until it was a bit past halfway, then a gloved hand gripped his wrist and stopped it.

Sir Gasper was frowning, apparently more puzzled than furious. Then he raised his head and looked farther behind Harrid.

"I sent him," the old steward's voice came from behind.

"Are you training him?" Sir Gasper chuckled, letting go of Harrid's wrist after glancing at the dull dagger.

Master Rudolf came beside Harrid and nodded at the question.

Sir Gasper nodded too, seemingly impressed. He glanced at Harrid then looked at the old steward and said, "well, he's no roach."

"I wouldn't train one," Master Rudolf guffawed.

Harrid shifted his eyes between the two, perplexed. He wondered if they were mocking him and he just couldn't understand it.

After the two exchanged a few words, Sir Gasper left.

"You didn't do badly, considering how anxious you were," Master Rudolf said. "Gasper isn't easy to kill after all." He chuckled.

Harrid released a painful breath and glared at the old man who wasn't even looking at him. He wondered where his next real training would be, and if his target would be a friend of the old steward every time.

Chapter 78

Chapter 78

Gerald read through the last few pages of his brother's journal with quick eyes. It was still about his brother doubts of trespassers and his unstable relationship with his father. Gerald flipped to the last page of the journal and read the last of it.

'Father has finally spoken to me. Today, he was oddly lively. When I first saw him, he met me with an odd gaze that sent shivers through my marrow. Perhaps I imagined it. I'm not certain of anything, considering how fast things are changing in this keep. Father is often asking Robard about the soldiers which seems to be striking the knight, and not just me, as peculiarly new. At the end of today's assembly he told me something. "Worry not, son. You will get your wish soon enough." I don't know what he meant, but it evoked anticipation within me in all honesty. I wonder what father has got planned. Perhaps he intends to let go of my siblings, or even move to wipe out the bandits in the basin? Either one would be very satisfactory for me. It would be a step forward, which is all the Viscounty needs right now."

Gerald shook his head and snorted. It was neither, brother.

There was a knock on the door of his bedchamber. He rose from his bed with a frown. Ordinarily, he didn't go to his study this early. It was odd that someone would knock on his door so soon after dawn break. "Who is it?"

"It's me, my lord," Frederick's voice came from outside. "Master Arthur has sent me. A messenger has arrived, from Count Westwell."

Gerald was alarmed. He hadn't expected Westwell to react so soon. He wondered what word this messenger would bring. Would Westwell have so little shame that he would demand the return of his thieves?

He dressed himself and strode out of his chambers and towards the Lord's Hall.

There, he found his aides waiting, along with a short man wearing the Westwell colors, bright blue behind a thick forearm gripping a spinning spear of water.

Gerald moved up to his seat, his two ministers standing on either side of him, and Robard taking his place two steps below.

The messenger bowed to him and spoke without any pleasantries. "My lord, Alaric Westwell, has sent word with me for your lordship. May I speak my lord's grievance?"

"Speak," Gerald waved his hand.

"My lord demands that you send back his envoys unharmed. A knight, four representatives, and a small escort of guards were sent to your lands to commence an amicable relationship between the two Houses, and my lord has not heard from them since then."

Gerald held the snort stuck in his throat back and nodded with feigned sympathy. He gestured towards the messenger. "You have been through a few days' travel on the road and haven't even rested upon arrival. I imagine that the Count's envoys are very important to him. I understand such feelings as I too have some subordinates that I would abhor to lose. Yet, it is unfortunate that your envoys never arrived. As you might have seen, the south of my territory is going through some . . . tensions. Some brigands have split off from one of the crews I defeated, and they're now roaming the southern mountains of my territory and terrorizing my people. They've already murdered many of my subjects. Perhaps your lord's envoys were unfortunate enough to cross roads with them?"

The messenger paled for a moment, which assured Gerald that he was aware of the truth of these 'envoys', since he had mentioned that the bandits were roaming the mountains. Georjay had been sent to the southern mountains to prospect for ore, and according to what Gerald had just said, it was very likely that the group had already come across the bandits.

The short man in proud blue gulped then cleared his throat. "My lo—Your lordship," he took a breath. "The envoys of the Count were sent with an escort of guards. It is unlikely that they would succumb to mere thieves." He stared at Gerald with piercing eyes, perhaps awaiting any signs of a lie.

Gerald smiled and shrugged. "Unfortunately, numbers are forever the pain of valor. I'm certain that the Count's subordinates are men of courage, but no matter what, it is nigh impossible for any escort to survive the onslaught of three hundred desperate bandits. These men prowling in my territory have already lost all hope of breathing the fresh air of the plains. I doubt they would hesitate before attacking any lord's colors."

The messenger was struck silent for a while. "Three hundred?" he asked with disbelief.

Gerald's smile turned wry. "Well, you must be aware that my territory has been home to thousands of bandits. Only of late have I begun to remove them, but it was inevitable that some would escape my grasp. However, I promise you that my retribution will be swift." Gerald's tone and expression turned fierce as he took to his feet. "They shall curse the day they decided to infest these lands and harm both my subjects and my guests. That much is for certain."

The messenger was silenced again. He nodded, though obviously still a bit dubious. "Then I shall ride home and deliver your reply to the Count, your lordship."

Gerald nodded back. "May safety be your companion."

The messenger bowed. "Thank you, my lord."

As Westwell's messenger left, Gerald noticed a burning glance from his left. Renard was apparently mystified. Gerald didn’t like that the Duke's rat was aware of this passing scheme of his, as he usually kept such things hidden from his pretend minister. But he didn't worry about him spreading the truth. As the Duke's hand here, he would be a fool to do anything that would risk conflict for the Viscounty when trade had just begun to flow again.

..

.

After dusk, Gerald was in his study with Frederick, sorting through what remained unchecked of his family's written history. These last remnants were accounts hard to decipher or ones that had nearly succumbed to the test of time.

He heard a knock on the door. There was no one out there to receive whoever had come. So he glanced at Frederick who was seated on the ground. The latter got to his feet and went outside. A moment and he returned. "It's Master Renard, my lord."

Gerald frowned. When had Renard brought any good news—or demands—for him? "Let him in," he muttered.

Renard came in with a smile. A real one, Gerald believed; which was odd.

The minister bowed and said, "greetings, my lord."

"Renard, I almost began to miss you, having not seen you for a whole afternoon," Gerald chuckled.

"It is my honor that you would care that much for me, my lord."

Gerald's eyes sharpened. Too much empty courtesy. He didn't like it. He felt a slap soon to be delivered.

And he was right. The truth of Renard's smile soon became clear as he spoke. "The Duke has sent word, my lord." A gloating smile.

"All trade is his," Gerald sneered. "What else may he need?"

"Only what is reasonable, my lord," Renard said, still smiling. In Gerald's eyes, the gloating smile was more of a vicious sneer that only he could possibly see. "As you may know, my lord," the minister continued. "The Duke has been rebuilding the roads that begin past the northern pass and trail towards the north in his territory. He expects you to do the same with the roads of the Viscounty, since it would make the journey of any merchant less demanding and quite a bitshorter.

Gerald snorted and shook his head. "And why would I bother with that? I gain nothing from it. That is the Duke's gold and not mine."

"My lord," Renard's smile widened. "You mistook my intention. The Duke didn't command me to negotiate with you. This time, it is not by my own volition that I come here. These are the Duke's commands. You know more than I do why they must be followed."

Gerald rubbed his knuckles. At times like these, he wondered if he ought to give his bald minister a scar or two, specially when the latter was smiling so widely at his misery. Patience, Gerald, he told himself. Nothing ever remains the same. Neither would he remain the same. The day would come when he could see the Duke eye to eye without having to concede to his demands; perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow, perhaps not any time soon, but he would rather die than sit in his keep for eternity and wait for the Duke to send him his commands.

He took a breath and eyed Renard. "And where would the gold for the road come from?"

"Ah," Renard raised his brows, feigning surprise. "I have not thought of that, my lord. I doubt the Duke has, either. I suppose it is a matter for you to think about."

Gerald got to his feet, glowering at the short man. "So you want me to pay for the Duke's trade route too?" he growled. "Has he no shame? Does my wealth compare to a tenth of his?"

"Oh," Renard shook his head with a sad smile. "Such words, my lord. They would hurt the Duke to hear. He has after all been very kind to you and your sister. Have you not been his guests for fourteen years? Has he shown any shameful behavior towards you? Your sister is destined to be his son's wife, instead of being forced to be a lowly mistress, for example. Now that would be a shame, don't you think, my lord? But it wouldn't be a shame for the Duke's House, no. I'm certain, however, that the Duke would never do such a thing. He would never humiliate his guests and his friends."

Gerald nodded slowly and turned around. That pinch in his chest, was it what his father often felt? This fury, was it what his brother always felt? When will you come home, sister? He opened the window and gazed north, the thick clouds barring his vision from seeing sky.

"My lord—"

"Out with you," Gerald said.

"But—"

"Leave. Now." He didn't need to see or hear this rat anymore. He needed to comply with the Duke's demands though. He had little choice in the matter.

"Very well, my lord. I shall take my leave and await your wise decision."

Gerald heard the door being shut, then it was opened again after a moment.

"Should I come in my lord," Frederick's voice came from behind him.

Gerald waved him out, and the lad complied and left in silence.

ß-----------------------------------------à

Alaric Westwell was in his hall when his minister arrived.

"My lord, the messenger has returned."

"Bring him to me," Alaric said, wondering what the new Viscount's response was.

A few moments and the messenger entered. "My lord." He bowed, his short stature making his head closer to the ground than most.

"Out with it," Alaric said. "What did he say?"

"Nothing, my lord," the messenger shook his head reluctantly. "He claims that he never knew of their presence. Apparently some prowling bandits have been roaming the southern mountains of his territory and that's why his men are scouring the south and guarding the pass."

"Bandits?" Alaric frowned. What was that boy thinking? "And you believe him?" He eyed his messenger. The man had served his House for more than a decade, and he wasn't easy to fool.

"I'm not certain, my lord," the messenger shook his head. "Three hundred strong, he says. Supposedly, they have split off from one of the crews he's defeated. He suggests that our men might have fell to an ambush by those bandits. He seemed quite determined to wipe them out."

Alaric snorted. "As if I'd believe that damned boy. He returns from his exile and the Viscounty suddenly seems to be getting to its feet. He won't be easy to handle, but he's a fool if he thinks he can contend with me." He grew silent. Soon enough, when this matter is past, he would attempt to search for mines in the basin again. He would know then whether the boy was fooling him or not. Time would tell in the end, as it always did.

But now he had to handle the loss of a seasoned knight and that mine-sniffing foreigner. He'd had high hopes for the latter. The lack of iron in his territory was driving his treasury to the edge. Whether it was buying iron or arms, neither was cheap because of the pure weight that a merchant had carry while journeying. He mostly had to sign agreements with other lords who would fulfill his needs, and those lords never failed to procure benefits from his constant need for arms.

Regardless, his wars for expansion would never cease, not while he had this chance. The Royal Capital was like a sleeping beast now, but it wouldn't always be. No one knew when one of the Princes would inherit the Kingdom, but there was no doubt that whoever inherits would begin by establishing his authority. And Alaric needed to have all the lands he coveted before that happened.

Chapter 79

Chapter 79

Gerald breathed through his mouth as he descended into the dungeon, making sure not to slip on the irregular stairs.

The argument with Renard from two days ago was still on his mind, ringing in his head with no intention to stop. He could still recall the naked threats Renard had spoken. They grated at him, at his heart and also at his patience. It was by some uncanny luck that he could keep the two at balance, preventing his fury from bursting out and at the same time from consuming him.

This was the deepest he'd gone into a dungeon yet. His forefathers had built a deeply rooted dungeon for their convenience, and it had become convenient to their descendants as well.

After finishing his descent, a guard led him towards the prisoner he wished to see.

Unlike the last time, prisoners here were kept behind iron bars, instead of reinforced doors. As he came before the bars, Gerald labored with his eyes to see through the darkness. The torches were next to him while the prisoner was inside, shaded.

After a moment, he noticed movement. It seemed that they had roused her from her sleep. A body that had been lying down for who knew how long sat up with the support of the wall, feet rubbing the ground as if making sure it was still there.

"Who is it?" Grina's hoarse voice came from within.

Gerald gestured for the other guard that had been following him. The latter placed a chair in front of the bars and stepped back.

Gerald sat down. "Leave us."

Moments after the guards left, Grina began to gather her bearings. "Ahh, so it's you. I knew you would eventually come."

Gerald leaned back. "Hmm? What made you so sure?"

"You needed something from me," she said. "You wouldn't have left me alive otherwise." She turned herself slowly, leaning her back where the walls met and formed a corner. Her legs stretch in front of her, somewhat lifeless.

Gerald chuckled dryly. "You're quite mistaken. I need nothing from you."

She chuckled as well, but her chuckle was drier than his, not by choice but by necessity. Her voice had not recovered yet, and didn't seem to be improving much. "Out with it. Tell me what you want."

"Are they treating you well enough here?" he asked. He wasn't awfully surprised that her life had been hard down here, however he hadn't given any commands for her to be mistreated. But then again, perhaps he didn't have to. Traitors weren't the most welcomed lot anywhere.

"Spare me the worthless words, cousin," she said, the old sharpness in her eyes returning as she glared at him. "Tell me why I am still alive."

"I truly need nothing from you," Gerald shrugged. "You were kept alive to serve a purpose, and you've already served it. The branches of the family are losing their influence in the Viscounty, and there is no going back now."

She shook her head and let out a few short coughs. "If that had truly been the reason, then you would have killed me by now." She grew silent for a moment, staring at him. "Or is this it? Are you here to send me off?"

"No, Grina," he breathed out, slightly irritated. "I'm here because I have a question for you."

"I will answer nothing until you tell me why I'm still breathing."

Gerald breathed out again, a faint growl accompanying his breath. "Why do you want to know so badly?" He wondered why she wasn't simply glad that she was alive, even if in a deep hole in the ground. Being alive meant that she still had a chance to be free, if not tomorrow then the day after that. He didn't intend to give her such a chance, but he knew the power of that cursed word, 'hope'.

Grina snorted. "Because ignorance is weakness, cousin. And I refuse to be ignorant of my own fate." Her gaze was fixed on him with grim determination.

He met her eyes and realized that she wouldn't give in. She had nothing more to lose, except that life of hers that he hadn't taken. But she seemed determined not to comply anyway. He took a breath and leaned back in his chair again. His shoulders had fallen forward due to his temper. The one that he often didn't show, but the most recent incident had set it on fire. "I kept you alive because I agree with you." He paused, moving his eyes away from her and landing them on one of the walls illuminated by a torch. "Power is everything."

Grina's shoulders had abandoned the support of the walls and she had leaned forward as well, but as she heard the answer, she leaned back again.

He was surprised at how easily she seemed to have believed him, or perhaps she could somehow tell that it was indeed the truth; the only truth. Power decided one's fate. They both believed that. The only difference between them was that she had learned it here, while he had learned it in Malfi City."

She took deep a breath, a much needed one considering her disposition. "Ask away, cousin," she smirked.

Gerald didn't begin with his question though. He took his time and spoke. "You seem to care deeply for your brother."

"I do." Her answer was curt but certain.

"Your intentions seemed to say otherwise," he smiled. She didn't need to be reminded of the letters in which she had planned to take her brother's seat for Edgar and herself. Even though he didn't doubt for a moment that she would have been the one truly ruling.

"I don't need any faith from you," she said, "I do care for my brother. It's the truth. I have nothing to lie for anymore."

He nodded. "I often wonder, if I were to offer you freedom in exchange for his imprisonment in your place, would you take my offer?"

She grew silent for a moment then glanced at him, perhaps with disdain at the question. "I would only accept it if I was certain I could free him from outside."

Gerald snorted and shook his head. "A colorless answer." He stood up and stepped away from the chair.

"That's the question that brought you down here?" she mocked him with her gaze.

"No, Grina," he said. "What brought me down here was a real offer."

She grew silent, pressing her lips. "You wanted to know what I was thinking." She seemed to reprimand herself silently with twitching features. "Regardless, is it the same offer?"

He shook his head, a faintly sad smile on his face, almost apologetic. "My true offer is your freedom for his life."

"Huh?" she gaped at him for a moment. "What do you mean?"

He knew that she was already aware of what he'd meant, but sometimes one needed to be certain once, twice, and perhaps thrice. "He would have to die, but you can be free after that. You don't have a claim on the Viscounty. He does. It was through him that you wanted to inherit the territory. If Estor dies, there is nothing to worry me in the days to come. I just need enough justification. Hopefully, you can provide—"

"Never," she growled, the obvious signs of insult appearing on her countenance as she leant forward, bathing in the torch's light for the first time.

Gerald shook his head again, helplessly. If she was playing a game and feigning insult, then this was his killing move. "He will die anyway, Grina. Simply, help me, and you will at least gain something in exchange." An ultimatum was what he needed to give her now, if he wanted to know her truth.

"No," she got to her feet with much difficulty, then she stepped forward into the light with her whole body and leant on the metal bars. "You can't kill him. You can't murder him, Gerald. He wouldn't have gone after your seat without me. He is harmless. Just . . . " She grew silent and panted loudly. "I can help you, in any way you want. I know merchants, and I'm certain I can still pull strings in the family. There are people in Ard that you would like to know. Anything. He doesn't deserve this, Gerald."

He gazed at her, quite surprised. He had come here with little hope, but she hadn't disappointed him. "So you do love him."

Her answer was silence, and piercingly determined eyes that fixated on him.

He nodded in understanding. "I see. I will consider your proposal. But . . . " He frowned as he prepared his question. "Sometimes I wonder, does it make us weaker? This love we have for them?"

Grina breathed out as it dawned on her. He reckoned that she had already realized by now that he had been playing with her. He'd only wanted to know if she truly cared for her brother.

She sighed and smiled. "I suppose this is about your sister, yes?" She stepped back from the bars. "Whether it makes us weaker or stronger, it doesn't matter."

"It does," he said, with an almost fanatic certainty. He'd seen first-hand how much a loved one mattered. He and his sister were enough to influence the fate of the Viscounty through his father, even though they hadn't been here. And now his sister was affecting the territory with her absence more than she would have been able to with her presence.

"You don't understand, Gerald," she said. "Without them, it's all for nothing. So if they make us weaker today or stronger tomorrow, it doesn't matter. We cannot be without them. Have you heard the story of the gluttonous hunter?"

Gerald didn't reply but his questioning stare provided an answer.

"My father used to tell me this story every fortnight. 'So you wouldn't forget it,' he would tell me. And I did not." She stopped for a moment, her gaze shifting as if floating in nostalgia. Perhaps she didn't notice it, but Gerald saw a slight smile appear on her lips. Her eyes quickly came back followed by her attention and she began, "the story tells of a talented hunter who lived in a paradise. The smallest prey there tasted better than the grandest meat in our lands. The hunter was young and he was still learning. He only managed to hunt flying hares. He was talented but he couldn't hunt the grander game and at the same time, he couldn't wait to taste the meat of the shining deer or the mysterious stag. One day, he woke up with one aim in mind, to hunt one of the mysterious yellow stags. His stomach was churning with pain that day, demanding the best meat in the paradise. He couldn't resist it, and so he followed its call and tracked the elusive stags.

With such determination, it didn't take him long to find a trail, only two days. He followed and followed, with each step his stomach burned and itched for the greatest meat one could hope to taste. He tracked it for days unending. He lost count of how many days or perhaps weeks he'd kept on its trail, until the day finally came. The day he met it. The gorgeous beast that he'd only caught glances of in the past. He finally met it, looked it in the eye and gazed at its wondrous horns. The stag's head wasn't crowned with the same bone of an earthly stag. No, it was crowned with four horns standing side by side, each one like that of the fabled unicorns. The horns stood proud, pointing at the sky.

The stag eyed him quietly, and the hunter watched the stag. His stomach was losing all patience and he almost leapt at his prey with savage instincts. He barely calmed himself and raised his bow, aiming it where it would strike true. But the stag only lowered his head, touching the ground with his nose then raising his head proudly again. The hunter didn't move his eyes from the prey, awaiting his perfect moment. With steady hands and an urging stomach, he loosed his arrow, barely holding himself back from following it at the same instant to attack the feast that would fall. The stag fell. It did indeed. And the hunter didn't wait. He fell upon it with an open maw and chewed on the heavenly meat. His stomach swallowed and swallowed, and it never had enough. It was as if the meat of paradise turned to air in one's stomach. When he was done, there was nothing but bones and the head. It was only then that the hunter noticed a missing horn. One of the grand horns that had pointed at the sky not long ago was missing. Where had it gone? A shooting pain ran through his chest, and he looked down to see the thicker end of the horn sticking out of his heart. Only then did he remember when the stag had lowered its head and touched the ground, aiming its horns at him. The urge of hunger from his stomach had numbed his heart. He forgot about that which kept him alive. And he paid for his negligence with his life. For a man can live without heavenly meat, but can never live without his heart."

Gerald met Grina's meaningful gaze after she finished. He'd understood the meaning. A fine line was to be seen; the line between being an ambitious hunter and a gluttonous one. He and Grina were of the same cloth, and they had to tread the same path with care. He nodded to her slowly and turned to leave. Perhaps all he needed was a rest, and time to think about what he'd heard today.

"Do you need anything else?" Grina's voice came from behind, more tame than it had ever been, and he knew why.

He turned and looked at her. "No. That was all." He smiled. "That was my question."

"And my brother," she said with a pleading tone. "You won't harm him. You were only fooling me, right?"

"I wouldn't stoop so low, cousin," he said. Then he tapped his lips with his finger. "It was this mouth that uttered your brother's sentence after all."

On his way back up, he met the warden. "Treat her well, and feed her well."

"Yes, my lord."

"Also, let her see sunlight sometime."

"How often, my lord?"

"Just once should be enough. We mustn't risk repeating it."

ß-------------------------------------------------à

Lena stood straight, fixing the thin fabric of the dress below her breasts. The dress was just enough properly present her pair, pushed up and seemingly larger than they actually were.

Aya was behind her, tightening the straps. "Is that enough?"

"I think it is," Lena said, twisting her body from side to side to get used to the feeling. "This is enough."

Aya let go and Lena turned around, looking at her life-long companion, her supposed maid. But Aya was more. She was her friend, and her protector too. Few knew that the kind-looking maid was an Earth Warrior. She was Uncle Rudolf's daughter, after all.

There was a knock on the bedchamber's door. Aya trotted to the door while Lena gave a few last pulls at the side of the dress.

Aya opened the door and the Duke's third son, Lorgo, came in.

Lena looked at her betrothed whose eyes were fixed on her raised bosom for a few moments.

He remembered to take a breath and began, "my Lena. How are you today? What a lovely, lovely dress this is."

She pretended to blush and giggled softly. Meanwhile, Aya moved to the corner of the room, where she would stay for the sake of propriety.

"It is worth every piece of gold indeed," Lorgo walked around her, scrutinizing every part of her.

Lena preserved her smile on the outside, but she was impatient inside. She'd had to satisfy the bastard's perverse tastes for a while now because it was the easiest way to get coin out of him. If she had a choice, she would try to repel him, for she had other plans.

Lorgo was the Duke's bastard and third son, but he was acknowledged and legitimized. That, however, didn't change that his two older brothers didn't seem him as an equal. They always excluded him when they had the chance, and most of the time it was the Duke that gave him responsibilities and influence in the palace.

Lena knew for certain that if the Duke passed away, the two older brothers would monopolize power and divide it between them, despite the Duke's efforts to involve his beloved bastard.

They sat next to each other, Lorgo inching closer every moment, and glancing at Aya scornfully. "You choose these dresses very well," he told Lena, glancing at her breasts again.

"There is a much better one, but I could not afford the coin," Lena muttered. "If someone else gets it, it would be such a loss."

"It cost even more than this one?" he looked appalled at the thought.

Lena didn't give in easily though. The two older brothers had more than just one advantage over Lorgo. The bastard's worst trait was his naivete. He was easy to fool when excited or anxious.

"I heard it was made by a master," she said. "And it looked better than anything I've worn before. Much better."

"How much gold?"

"A hundred," Lena said faintly.

"What?" Lorgo froze. "That's . . . " He gulped, and glanced at Aya again. Then he looked at Lena. "That's a lot, but I will try to procure the amount. If I do, I'll send it with my steward."

She knew the gold was nothing considering the Duke's wealth, but she didn't want to attract attention, and even Lorgo would be suspicious if the dresses were even more costly than this.

She raised a brow but retracted it quickly. He seemed distracted to her. He wasn't difficult to manipulate, but it was quite a bit easier today. Her belief was further solidified when he left after a short amount time, instead of staying and feasting his eyes on her, the dish he could not have yet.

After he left, she changed into a more appropriate dress, and Aya pulled a bag of gold from behind the dresser. "We've already saved a hundred and thirty, Lena. Isn't this enough?"

Lena pressed her lips, uncertain. "I don't know. But after this, we won't be able to get gold from him again. We need a considerable amount if my plans are to be fulfilled."

"I've already found someone," Aya suddenly added.

"You did?" Lena gaped. "Are you certain that she wouldn't become a malleable whore at the first sight of gold?"

"No. I picked this one from the top of the ladder, like you told me," Aya said. "I'm already planting the idea of being a noble lady in her mind. She's clever enough to be able seduce him though. That's for certain.

Lena nodded. They had been looking for a girl, preferably one who hadn't broken her first blood. If Aya could get such a girl to catch Lorgo's attention then she would have a chance to approach one of his brothers. But the matter was much more complicated than just that, and they would have to prepare the girl for things to go as planned.

If she was lucky, the betrothal could even change from the third son to one of the other two in the coming months. It would be odd, but as long as none of the two Houses was shamed by the incident, it would be of no harm. Of course, she knew that there would be a lot of words spoken behind her back if that were to happen, but that was the least of her concerns.

Her greatest concern was Gerald. How are you brother? She hardly knew anything about him. Lorgo was never allowed to handle the matter of Gerald, and she had no influence over anyone else.

She steeled her heart and decided to begin. The opportunities were obscured, and the odds weren't in her favor. But if she could gain some power here, it would do a lot for her brother. He was likely under the Duke's command, and suffering from it, there was no mistake.

And she was here, buried in obscurity. The first step she had decided to take was to get her head above the ground, to see what was happening. It was only then that she could determine how she could help.

Chapter 80

Chapter 80

Gerald was in his study with Arthur and Robard, discussing the most recent problems that the Viscounty was going through. He would have to begin building the road the Duke had demanded, and he was already building the market quarter south of the walls.

"Rebuilding the road will cost us from three to four thousand gold, my lord," Arthur said as he pointed at the middle of the map on the table. "And the market quarter will also need a similar amount if we want to continue building it."

"And our treasury woes again," Gerald chuckled. He would be left with ten thousand gold pieces after the mentioned amount of gold was expended, which would pose more problems for him in the coming months. With all that he was doing, it was inevitable that such an amount of gold would be inadequate. "But at least this time the treasury is being emptied for the good of the territory, not running dry for nothing."

Arthur still grimaced though. He'd likely thought that the days of starving for gold would be over after they had liberated a generous amount from the bandits. "Must we build the road now, my lord? We can wait until the next harvest, and by then the market quarter would have begun to bring some of its benefits as well."

"That's quite a while from now, Arthur," Gerald shook his head. "We have to begin now. If we delay, it wouldn't be us braving the risks, but my sister."

The old minister nodded sullenly then opened what seemed like a ledger. "I will make sure these two undertakings are well taken care of, my lord. Hopefully, we can see some coin from the market quarter sooner than expected." He began to flip through the ledger.

Gerald turned to his head knight. "Tell me about Westwell."

Robard took a breath. "Count Westwell might be in command of the largest army in our immediate vicinity, my lord. That is if we don't take into account the vassals of the Andross Empire north of us. Had it not been for the available pool of mercenaries, the Baronies would have been swallowed by him."

"How many men does he have?" Gerald said. "Tell me everything you know."

Robard nodded. "I'm not certain of the numbers, my lord. But Count Westwell might have as many as nine thousand men under his command. His County is almost always in conflict. He's clashed with the Baronies before but failed to gain ground. I believe he wanted to reach Moutpie, like everyone does. But it's in the middle of the Baronies and he faced resistance with every step. Now, however, he is in conflict with Viscount Norsewise."

"Where is this Norsewise?" Gerald asked. He raised another map from below the table and spread it out. It showed the basin, the territories south of it, and even some territories south of those. The QasmRiver cut its way through the map from east west, indiscriminately.

Robard pointed at the southwest of the Westwell territory. The borders there showed the NorsewiseViscounty taking most of the seaside land, and leaving Westwell with almost nothing but inland territory south of the river. "South of the Qasmriver, Count Westwell only has a small piece of seaside land. The rest belongs to Viscount Norsewise. The Norsewise territory gets a lot of trade by sea, which makes it wealthy enough to resist Count Westwell. I suspect that the lucrative trade routes are what Count Westwell is after." He moved his finger to point just north of the Qasm river, seaside. "The town of Maleh is the only place that gets seaside trade within Count Westwell's territory. But it can't compare to the Norsewise territory."

Gerald nodded. Maleh was the town where Lucas had left the families of his men. The old knight hadn't invited them to the basin yet, likely uncertain about bringing even more hostages into Gerald's grasp. He would have to gain the knight's trust over time, it seemed. "I suppose that's it then."

Robard seemed to remember something and raised his hand in warning. "I must also mention Count Westwell's heavy riders, my lord."

Arthur nodded on the side with a cautioning glance.

"Heavy riders?" Gerald cocked his head.

"Yes," Robard said. "The former Count Westwell, who was our ally, was a very cautious man. He'd made sure that his treasury was full when handing the County to his son. When Count Alaric inherited the County, he spent a great amount of that gold on a heavy cavalry regiment, armored from head to toe. Even the horses, almost every inch of them is covered in armor. The stallions were bought from outside the subcontinent. As you likely know, my lord, it is hard to come by horses that can carry such weight around here, and in such numbers. The Count's heavy regiment is well trained and feared in any open field of battle. And rightly so.Each rider from that regiment has reaped dozens of lives on the battlefield. He also has a heavy infantry regiment, but it is nowhere as dangerous as the heavy cavalry."

Gerald nodded. "It seems we have to avoid open conflict with him for now. Specially since we don't know how harsh his war with Viscount Norsewise is. Averting a war with him shouldn't be difficult though. We simply need to prevent him from finding something he wants in the basin." He wouldn't have to worry about someone sneaking through the southern pass again, since Lucas had already placed men there to inspect all those who pass through it. He glanced at Arthur and said, "tell me about the amount of land sowed in the scorched forest, Arthur. You have lent a certain amount of gold to our new farmers, yes?"

Arthur smiled. "Yes, my lord. It has gone better than we've imagined. After we lent the decided amount of coin, more of the refugees wanted to cultivate land, so they borrowed from the merchants and lenders in Ard. The sowed land is twice the size we have anticipated."

"Then the next harvest will bring balance to our treasury. We will simply have to manage until then," Gerald said, hoping that no disaster would strike the fields this winter. The main reason farmers sought to plant grain in the summer was because they feared that the next winter would bring them no harvest. It was rare, but sometimes a mild storm would ruin most of the fields and leave farmers starving for months. That was why he and Arthur had been worried that none of the refugees would be willing to borrow coin and put their freedom at risk to grow grain that might never be harvested.

The assembly came to an end with Gerald ascertaining his command for Arthur to begin work on the road.

ß-----------------------------------------à

Harrid followed the fly with his eyes, until it neared the darkness, then he followed it with his mind. He expected where it would arrive in the shade and rested his eyes there, letting them get used to the darkness. The fly entered the shade cast by the fence and he caught sight of it passing by the spot where he was staring. He followed it from there and entered the shade himself, but he was interrupted by Master Rudolf.

"Good," the old steward said, standing in the light, several steps away from the fence. "Not quite what I wanted of you, but you have good eyes. Good enough that they would see even if they were shut."

Harrid walked out of the shade and nodded.

"It's time to move on then," Master Rudolf said. He brought out four daggers.

Two of the daggers were handed to Harrid. He looked at the pair of them then stared at Master Rudolf, clueless.

"You've learned how to stab an unwitting man with a dagger, but sometimes you will have to stab a witting one." The old steward strengthened his grip on his two daggers as he approached Harrid. He swung one of them towards him.

Harrid tried to clumsily parry it. But his success or failure had nothing to do with the result, as Master Rudolf's other dagger was already poking him in the neck.

"A simple move that any experienced combatant would be able to counter. But it's just the beginning," the old steward said. He raised the two daggers and waved them for Harrid to see. "A man's eyes can rarely follow more than one thing at a time. To feign an attack from one side and strike from the other is an ancient tactic in both combat and war. It has been used countless times. But that's not why you should learn to use two daggers."

Harrid scratched his head with the pommel of one of the daggers. "I thought you used a sword, Master Rudolf."

The old steward shook his head. "My father taught me to use a pair of daggers, but my heart was bent on the sword. He told me that it was a mistake, and he was right." He readied his daggers again. "Keep your eyes on both daggers. The real training won't begin until you can stop both of them."

..

.

For four days, Harrid trained, solely in the hopes of stopping the daggers. And he did on the fifth day. He stopped the attacks of the two daggers every time on that day.

A dagger came from his right, heading for his ribs. He evaded it and softly parried the one coming for his throat as he slipped through the attacking arms of Master Rudolf.

The old steward stepped back, and Harrid panted with satisfaction as he succeeded another time.

Master Rudolf nodded. "Now you should learn why my family uses the two daggers." He approached him again.

Harrid braced himself, ready to handle any dagger that came his way.

Master Rudolf went for a full swing, bringing his hand across and swinging the dagger sideways towards him.

Harrid stepped forward instead of backwards, grabbing hold of the old steward's arm before the swing was finished. He pushed the arm down, only realizing a bit too late that he didn't know where the other dagger was this time, because it was nowhere to be seen. But as he pushed Master Rudolf's arm down, the other dagger appeared, right behind the arm. It was so quick that he didn’t have the time to even jolt before it stop an inch away from his right eye.

"As you've learned," Master Rudolf retracted his daggers, "the attribute manual of my family focuses on the sight patterns that a man's eyes follow." He brought one dagger behind the other so that Harrid could only see the one in front. "Most men can't see two daggers coming from two different directions. But all men can't see two daggers coming from the same direction."

Harrid nodded, gulping.

"It is not only that though," the old steward continued. "It's about how you see your opponent, and how they see you. You blind them with one arm and strike with the other. That's why we use two daggers. Not for distraction, but for cover." The old steward paused then glanced at Harrid after a bit of thought. "That is only one sight pattern that can be exploited. There are many. I will show you another." He approached Harrid one more time.

Harrid slowed his breath and watched the old man.

Master Rudolf rested one hand to his side and waved the other with a dagger. "Follow the dagger."

Harrid nodded as Master Rudolf weaved circles with the daggers. He was confused as to why he was following it, but he did anyway. The dagger kept circling. At some point in each circle, Master Rudolf would turn it, pointing it at him. But it was too far for Harrid to worry. He would have enough time to evade it if it came, he told himself. But at one point, the dagger turned towards him. It was in front of Master Rudolf's chest. The old steward's clothes weren't of the exact same color as the dagger's hilt, but they were of similar shade. With only the thickness of the blade to see and the confusing color of hilt and clothes, he noticed a moment too late that the dagger was cutting its way through the air faster than any time before. As he pushed his feet to evade it, the pointy end of the training dagger struck him squarely in the chest. The pain seemed to follow his breath from the chest up as he stumbled back. The severely dulled dagger hadn't broken his skin, but it was painful enough that he wouldn't want to receive such a strike ever again.

"In the heat of combat, it is much easier to execute," Master Rudolf said. "But studying these patterns will require a long time of training, much longer than a few days." He smiled at Harrid.

Harrid grimaced and forced a smile back.

Chapter 81

Chapter 81

Gerald slashed at his opponent's ribs, lightning fast. But his use of the attribute wasn't enough to best Gasper. The latter blocked his strike softly, taking a step to the side and countering it with a low slash.

Gerald hopped back, barely avoiding it while giving Gasper a glare. The knight had gone easy on him, and he didn't like it.

Gasper smiled wryly and nodded with silent understanding. Then he stepped forward, descending on Gerald with a flurry of attacks.

A spar like this always refreshed Gerald. But he'd expected to be able to keep up with Gasper by relying on his attribute. His knight, however, destroyed all his expectations. He was nimble with his sword, and he never gave Gerald the chance to use his exceptional speed. A preparatory strike would always be met with a swift counter that shatters his rhythm.

He was about to change his tactic when they were interrupted.

"My lord!"

Gerald halted the spar and turned to find Arthur at the edge of the training grounds, carrying a fist-sized rock. He walked to his minister. "Did something happen." He glanced at the rock, and his question was answered through ear and eye. He heard it from Arthur and saw it in the rock.

"Georjay has found something, my lord," Arthur said. "Iron and tin."

Gerald received the rock and scrutinized it, turning it from side to side. He had no experience with ore, and he was clueless when it came to its quality. Forged steel or iron would have been easier for him to judge. "How good?" he asked Arthur.

The old minister grinned, looking uncanny. "I knew it once I saw it, but I still went to the smith just to be certain. It's iron of the highest quality, my lord. It's also what Georjay said. He thinks there could even be more near where he found this."

"Where did he find this vein?" Gerald said.

"West of the forest southwest of the basin, my lord."

Gerald motioned for a servant to bring chairs, and they sat down. He also gestured for Gasper to come and take a seat.

"Georjay has found two mines," he told his knight as the latter sat down. "I want you to send some of your Warriors to stand guard there, in case Westwell manages to sneak someone into the basin."

"Yes, my lord."

Gerald turned to Arthur. "How large?"

"Georjay says the iron mine is one of the largest he's ever seen. The tin mine also contains a considerable amount of ore, but it isn't as large. He hasn't stayed there for long. Apparently, he was too anxious to find more and has moved on farther west. He believes there is certainly more to be found, but I don't think we can be that fortunate."

Gerald nodded. Now he had to think of the difficulties. "How deep in the mountains are these two mines?"

Arthur smiled. "Not to worry, my lord. They're easily reachable. If we're to set a mining camp, it can be built in the plains, on the edge of the mountains. Georjay did mention that we might need to build ramps and scaffolds at the site though. It's an irregular area."

Gerald let out a breath and leaned back in his seat. It was simpler than he had imagined. With such quality of iron, the market area would have all it needs. The best copper from the Baronies, and the best iron from the basin. And he was already thinking of seeking timber from the north. Perhaps he could elude the Duke and buy the goods from his competitor after all. The Duke was busy with his new trade route, and he wouldn't notice something so trivial. "Begin the mining without delay. We still have prisoners from those bandit crews. Send them and also put some honest men to work there." He paused for a moment. "And ask the smith if he can craft some heavy armor for our men." His thoughts veered off, imagining a heavy infantry regimentin his army. It would cost him, but it would be worth the cost, he believed.

Arthur smiled apologetically and shook his head. "He can't, my lord. I knew he couldn't before I asked him today, and I was right. At most, he can make a few sets; but he neither has the skill to craft good heavy armor, nor the apprentices to craft many sets of shoddyheavy armor." The old minister grew silent for a moment, glancing at Gerald. "And we don't have the coin for that sort of undertaking, my lord."

Gerald sighed. "It seems we need a better smith."

"We would need a Master smith, my lord," Arthur said. "And they're quite hard to find. No lord would let us rob him of such a good smith, and we would never find them without work. Any lord's gates are open for them after all."

Gerald nodded. "But we need to find one. This is no longer a trivial matter that we can ignore. We must find a Master smith soon." He looked at Arthur who still seemed uncertain. "And we need more gold."

Arthur smiled and nodded. Then something seemed to dawn on him and he hesitated.

Gerald cocked his head, noticing the odd expression on his minister's face. He stared at him, waiting for words.

Arthur seemed to make peace with his thoughts. He rested his eyes on Gerald and said, "there is coin that is due to the Viscounty, my lord."

Gerald raised a brow. He wasn't quite certain what Arthur meant.

"I once mentioned the property the House owned in the Royal Capital, my lord. Do you remember?"

Gerald nodded. "You said that my father sold most of it."

"But not all of it," Arthur explained. "Your grandfather bought land at the outskirts of the Royal Capital and built several vineyards there. Your father couldn't bring himself to sell them. However, we have not received a single copper from them for years."

Gerald grew silent for a moment. A few vineyards wouldn't be enough to provide the coin he needed. But the profits of several years combined could present a considerable amount. Perhaps he would sell them as well. The vineyards were no good for the House if the basin wasn't safe.

"That's not the only reason I mention the Royal Capital, my lord," Arthur said, staring at Gerald meaningfully.

Gerald looked at his minister quizzically. But when he met his eyes, a thought crossed his mind, forcing him to break into laughter. "Of course. It's difficult to find Master smiths anywhere, except in the Royal Capital, where a Grandmaster serves the King." He grinned to himself. There could be as many as a dozen Master smiths there, producing goods for the wealthy. He would have to find a way to persuade one of those smiths to leave the Royal Capital and return with him to a much lesser holding, but he would at least have a chance, since there would be several of them there.

"Exactly, my lord." Arthur nodded with a smile. "Perhaps we could send someone—"

"I will go myself," Gerald said.

Arthur seemed appalled by the thought. "My lord, you can't. You must always be in the Viscounty. We can't risk your absence or your safety. Also, there is always a threat from Count Westwell."

Gerald shook his head. "There is none. He won't seek conflict now while he's at war in the south, and if he does, you wouldn't need me to crush the meager numbers he manages to send."

Arthur rubbed his forehead, obviously in regret of speaking earlier. "My lord, I would advise against it."

Gerald shook his head, killing any hope his old minister still had. He would make this journey. He wouldn't mind seeing the Royal Capital, and he would like to see the vineyards for himself. Since he'd arrived, he still couldn't clearly see the balance of power in the Kingdom. In the capital, he could perhaps take a closer look.

ß----------------------------------------------------à

"Has he met her yet?" Lena said, spinning around slowly for Aya to observe.

"He has indeed," Aya said, tilting her head, scrutinizing the folds of the dress. "He's gotten to know her, but she tells me that he's not yet within her grasp. It will take time."

"No wonder," Lena said with a disdainful tone. "He wouldn't be so easy to sway. He's always at some brothel here or there. She will need more than just her body to catch his eye, and more so if she doesn't pleasure him as soon as he wishes. Are you certain she will be able to do it?"

"She is the best I've managed to find, Lena." Aya sighed. "What you've asked for is quite odd. Someone like that can't be found. They often find power and follow it themselves."

Lena pressed her lips and nodded. She stopped turning around and headed for the door. Aya was there before her, opening it then following her out.

There would be a celebration in a few days. As far as Aya had managed to hear from the gossiping maids, the Duke had insisted on hosting the festivities for one of his steadfast allies' first born. The latter had apparently born his first child after many years of waiting followed by many more of desperation.

After Aya had told her, Lena had decided to ask the Duke to allow her attendance. It would be a good place to get closer to the two older sons. Perhaps she could begin there.

They walked down one of the halls and were met by a lady who appeared to be a bit older than thirty. Lena recognized her right away; Baroness Rydia, the Duke's mistress.

The Baroness seemed engrossed in thought, and she walked right into Lena who'd come to a halt.

Lena stumbled two steps back, smiling weakly and curtsying. "My lady—"

"Watch where you walk, you little whore," the Baroness said. "Walk closer to the walls. You're no lady here." She glanced at Aya. "Take your filth and get out of my sight," she told Lena.

Lena wore a pitiful expression, nodding timidly. "Yes, my lady." She stepped to the side.

The Baroness snorted and walked past her.

Lena waited until the Baroness got out of sight then sighed, returning to her stoic countenance. She whispered to the fuming Aya, "poor woman. She really thinks the Duke will marry her." She shook her head.

Like her, Aya had gotten used to such treatment from some of thosein the palace and even some of the Duke's guests, like the Baroness. She brushed the recent insults off and she seemed puzzled. "Doesn't she have land? Wouldn't the Duke have her territory within his hands if he marries her? He has lots to gain and nothing to lose."

Lena shook her head. "Her territory is far, separated from the Duke's lands by several other territories. And it's not even that large. The Duke just prefers his bed companions to be of high birth. It is unlikely that he wants her barren Barony." She gave Aya a knowing glance and whispered, "you know how many highborn ladies he's invited to his bed."

Aya nodded.

"Let us not linger then," Lena said then began walking again.

They continued until they reached the Lord's Hall, where Lena would meet the Duke.

The attendant at the doors went in to inform the Duke of their arrival, shortly coming out. "You can enter. The Duke expects you inside."

Aya stayed outside, while Lena entered the hall.

White, decorated walls surrounded the wide hall. A gigantic crown hung from the ceiling, carrying dozens of candles; along with the candles adorning every step of the walls, they made the hall nigh as bright as day.

The Duke was in his high seat, and his minister stood beside him.

Lena curtsied. "My lord."

Under his pointy nose, the Duke's lips stretched into a smile. "Lena. How kind of you to visit my hall. But I'm assuming you're not here to greet me."

Lena held back a scowl. Whenever she met him, he acted oblivious to how much they had suffered because of him. She curtsied again. "My lord, I am indeed here because I have a request."

"Talk then," his eyes narrowed into a deeper smile. Obviously, he found the matter amusing.

Lena took a breath. "I wish to attend the celebration that is to be held a few days. I was wondering if you would allow it, my lord."

The Duke hummed, rubbing his clean chin. After a moment of thought, he nodded. "Very well. It is time for those haven't yet seen you to see the next member of my family."

Lena nearly cringed at his last words. She wasn't ready yet. She needed to have a better grip on her surroundings and fate before being wed. She tamed her breath that had become rugged. She would have her chance. She just needed to be quick. The celebration would be a good place to begin.

Chapter 82

Chapter 82

A wave of chilly wind blew by as Gerald and his aides spoke in the keep's gardens. He hoped that the winds of winter wouldn't be too harsh on him during the coming journey. It wasn't the peak of winter cold yet, and perhaps he was fortunate to travel at such a time.

"My lord, let me accompany you," Robard pleaded. "This journey could be more dangerous than you think."

Gerald sighed, a bit irritated. He didn't know if this was the twentieth or the thirtieth time that his head knight begged him to bring him along the journey. "You need to stay here in Ard and command the army." He glanced at Gasper. "Most of the elite corps and their commander will be with me on this journey. It should be safe enough." He would also have Uncle Rudolf by his side.

Robard nodded reluctantly, his face still scrunched up in a lasting grimace.

"Are you certain that the benefits are worth your journey, my lord?" Arthur said.

Gerald smiled at his sly minister. The latter had been attempting a softer approach to veer him off going to the capital. "I am certain, Arthur. Do you think a Master smith will return with anyone you send? A lord's name wouldn't be enough to persuade any with such talent, but a lord's person might." He didn't mention that he wanted to see the capital out of pure curiosity, too. It would be a much needed experience for him. He'd lived in a large city before, Malfi City. But he'd never visited the capital of Andross. Now it was time for him to visit the capital of Maric, his home.

Arthur nodded, keeping a straight face.

"When do we leave, my lord?" Gasper said.

"In three days," Gerald said. He turned to Arthur. "Have you prepared our expected expenses?"

"Yes, my lord."

Gerald nodded in satisfaction. His journey promised to be smooth, but he wouldn't wager on such an expectation. "How is Georjay doing?"

"He hasn't found anything else yet," Arthur said. "But he still insists that there is more to be found."

"Let him continue then," Gerald said. "He has already proven capable enough. He deserves some trust when it comes to his trade."

Arthur nodded.

Robard cleared his throat. "My lord, Lucas sent word today. Refugees have begun to appear again. They're already flocking north in numbers. Apparently, the war between Mali and Neejer has gone into some mad rampage where each Kingdom attempts to deliver as much damage as possible in the other's lands. The defensive lines of both sides have collapsed, and each one of them has succeeded in breaking through into the other's border on a different front."

"Scorching the earth?" Gerald raised a brow. It seemed that the grudges between the two Kingdoms had spiraled into something more worrying. The damage dealt from this war would last for years or even decades, and such damage would involve many more refugees fleeing north.

"He asks if he should allow them passage, my lord," Robard continued.

Gerald grew silent for a moment. It was an odd decision to made, considering the time. He already had quite a few idle hands in Ard. Most of them had been put to work, but there were more. He wondered, however, would it be the same in a year or two? With the mines that had been found and even more that could possibly be found in the coming days, he didn't know if he would have enough working hands. Ard was already expanding into a city, slowly but steadily. Soon enough, there would be honest work for everyone that wanted it. But if there weren't enough people, it would slow him down.

There was also still quite a bit of land in the scorched forest left uncultivated. So food wouldn't be a problem for a while. The basin had been raising more crops than the mouths of people needed so far. Of course, that had included feeding the refugees as little as possible. Now with almost everyone working, more grain would be needed. And the scorched forest would provide that needed grain.

But allowing new refugees passage into the basin came with its risks. Those that made it this far north weren't the best of the lot. The handiest among them would be picked by nobles farther south. That meant that many among those he intended to receive could be seeds for banditry or thievery in his lands. With the mountains nearby, it would be hard to catch cautious and small groups of brigands. "For now, tell him to let only families through," Gerald said. It was much less likely for a father to resort to banditry, specially if he was offered honest work.

Gerald believed that receiving whole families would be the safest and most lucrative for him. Settled working hands that were ready to latch onto the nearest opportunity of honest work; he could think of nothing more suitable for his territory.

ß-----------------------------------------------à

The largest hall of the Malfi palace was brimming with life. The fiddling of harps rang throughout, and the soothing sound of flutes permeated the warm air.

Near one of the walls covered with golden drawings, Lena was standing, unnoticeable as one could be. She sipped wine from her goblet and watched the many people that filled the hall. Among those present were the allies of the Duke; his only two landed vassals; and many court nobles, the lowest of the high. Court nobles were given their honorary titles without any land, often by the King. They did get privileges that others did not have though. That was why they always had great power within the cities they lived. They often engaged in trade or owned property that produced considerable amounts of coin.

Many ladies-in-waiting had arrived to this celebration, likely hoping to catch the best opportunity on occasions like this one.

Lena's eyes were following certain people however, mostly those who controlled her fate; the Duke and his sons. The night was still young, and they were keeping together for now. If she wanted a real opportunity, she would have to wait until she could talk to one of the two older sons without company.

Her chance soon came when the Duke's dear friend and ally came down the stairs in the middle of the hall, carrying his first born in his arms. The Duke trotted up to his friend and silenced the hall.

He cleared his throat amidst the silence and began, "most of you know why I'm hosting this gathering of ours." He ran his eyes over the crowd below. Then he gestured towards the newborn wrapped in several linen strips. "It is to celebrate this first son of my dear, loyal friend; Count Lerolian." He gave his aged ally a smile. "It is by the grace of the Mother that he bears this son, and it is also by her grace that we are gathered here tonight."

Lena held back a snort. She knew as well as anyone in the palace that the Duke didn't believe in the Mother. Only one out of two common men in the southern lands of Andross believed and followed the shrine of the Mother. And even fewer lords did.

"Let us celebrate today this wondrous occasion, and drink to the health of the new heir of the Lerolian County."

The guests raised their goblets towards the rising stairs then took customary sips.

Lena's eyes latched onto Verion, the Duke's eldest son. He was walking among the guests, receiving greetings from every side. Lena gracefully sailed through the hall, avoiding where her betrothed, Lorgo, was standing along with a crowd of his friends.

When she finally arrived at the spot Verion occupied, he was already crowded by many young ladies,most of them 'unwittingly' standing near him for no apparent reason. Quite a few among them stood in pairs, discussing a triviality or gossiping in hushed tones. The troubling thing for Lena, however, was that Verion was rarely given a moment's respite. Whenever a lady left his company, another would find an excuse to speak with him. Most of them were girls of her age or a few years older. They sought a smooth rise by marrying the heir of the Malfi Duchy. It was a silent but ruthless competition among them, which at times would cause the air to have a weight of its own.

Lena waited for her chance and then lunged at him, her lunge being a smiling approach that was no less graceful than her sail through the hall.

The way she was ignored, however, would infuriate her for days, but it wouldn't defeat her.

Verion gave her a brief, perhaps disdainful, glance and moved his eyes to the young lady coming up behind her. The latter spotted the invitation in his eyes and with haste arrived at his side.

It was difficult for Lena to retreat away from him with similar grace to how she had arrived, considering the snickering gazes that she was receiving. So she turned around and strode away, barely managing to keep a straight,untwitching face.

She found her way to one of the corners of the hall, taking another wall as her companion and beginning to look for Alven, the Duke's second son. She had no time to comfort herself. She would certainly be reflecting on the brief incident later at night, in her chambers. But at least Aya would be there to confide in.

Alven wasn't nearly as crowded with young ladies as his older brother was. He walked around the hall, conversing with court nobles and greeting several guests.

She found her way to him, adopting a softer approach this time. After Alven stopped walking around, she found a spot not too far from him and stood there, waiting for an opportunity.

Chapter 83

Chapter 83

Lena had her eyes fixed on Alven for a while. He still moved from time to time but he never got too far.

She waited for a chance to approach him, but what shocked her was that he was the one to eventually approach her. With brown hair that was neither long nor short and wide shoulders that were natural to knights, he was the better looking one of his brothers. While the youngest of the brothers, Lorgo, was fat and short, and the oldest, Verion, was tall and grotesquely thin; Alven was of more average stature. His shoulders were wide. He was neither fat nor thin, and he had the most gallant face among the brothers. Had Verion not been the likely heir for his father, most of these ladies would have preferred to court Alven, Lena believed.

"Lena," he called as he approached, wearing a smile. "With so many people to take for companions, why do you stand alone?"

Lena feigned a blush and smiled, turning her face away from him. "No reason. It is difficult to find company among strangers, that's all."

"And where is Lorgo?"

Lena spared a weak shrug. "Occupied by his friends."

Alven sighed, glancing at the distant Lorgo who stood amidst a crowd of young men. "As foolish as ever." He shook his head. "Let me keep you company for now then."

Lena nodded with a smile. She let the silence simmer for a few moments then spoke. "Will you tell me about Count Lerolian?"

"Oh, him?"Alven gestured with his goblet towards the distant old Count who was still carrying his wrapped child. "He's our only ally north of father's territory. Most of the other nobles north of us are nigh hostile because they have claims on lands in father's territory."

"Quite daring of them to conjure false claims on a Duke's lands," Lena said, mustering as much wonder on her face as she could.

Alven shrugged. "Well, there were conflicts with these noble houses in the past, involving my father and his father before him. But they struggle now for what is already lost." He cleared his throat and tilted his head as he spoke. "It is difficult to measure the legitimacy of their claims now, after all."

"So Count Lerolian is the only ally of ours among those nobles?" Lena said, barely pronouncing 'ours' amidst her words. If everything were to go as the Duke wanted it, then she would never return to the Viscounty. She would be one of them forever. And if she wanted their trust, she would have to sound accepting of it. She would have to be one of them. Perhaps they wouldn't trust her completely, but at least she wouldn't seem defiant. It had to be clear that she had no hope of returning home,that she would be taking Malfi city as her home.

Alven gave her a bewildered glance that only lasted a moment then he nodded. "Indeed. His family has been a friend of ours for generations. The Count failed to bear an heir to his house for years, but fortune has finally come to his aid. I suppose father is dis—" He stopped, almost choking on his words. Then he took a quick sip from his goblet, as if covering up his words. He searched Lena's face with his eyes for a moment.

She understood that he'd almost talked too much, so she acted as clueless as possible, gazing at him with the expression of a lost child.

He breathed a sigh of relief and said, "my father values his friends, and so he insisted on holding this gathering to celebrate the newborn."

Lena nodded. "Of course." She thought of praising his father but avoided it. It had already bewildered Alven that she'd counted herself as one of them. If she were to pretend too much, he would certainly get suspicious.

They both grew silent. But Lena was celebrating inside. She'd found the common ground. How had she missed it? The two older brothers abhorred Lorgo. That was where she would begin. And Alven wasn't averse to speaking with her, unlike his older brother. She had the best excuse to begin a conversation with him at any time, and it would always be about one thing, her hate for Lorgo.

ß------------------------------------------------à

Gerald was with Uncle Rudolf in his study. The old steward had come to him with a suggestion that had been inspired by his time training Harrid.

"It would be costly," Gerald muttered. "What are the ages again?"

"From seven to fifteen," Uncle Rudolf said. "Any homeless child would find a home in your training corps. And a family with a burdensome third child might send a son as well. In a few years, your elite corps will have a yearly supply of Warriors."

Gerald leaned back in his chair. To form a training corps with such an ambition would eventually prove more costly than training a regiment of soldiers. As more years pass, it would get more and more costly. "What about the ones who aren't talented enough? I'm presuming that only a few will be able to become Warriors at a young age. Those will join the elite corps. But what about the rest?" He paused for a moment then gave his old steward a look. "The army?"

Uncle Rudolf broke into a smile and nodded. "Those who aren't talented enough will end up in the regular army. You will have very well trained regulars replacing the aging ones. There is nothing to lose. And beginning it won't cost much. It will only begin to cost you after a period of time. Hopefully by then, the treasury will be doing better."

Gerald began tapping the table, deep in thought. Rounding up all the homeless young boys in Ard alone would mean a considerable amount of young trainees. Uncle Rudolf was even telling him to announce it among the people too. He would offer to take in the boys of any family that wanted their children trained well or were even burdened by them. Many would take the opportunity. "Who would train them?"

The old steward shrugged. "The old Warriors of the regular army can do it, and Robard could oversee them. By the time we return from the capital, they would have prepared a small group for real Warrior training. Gasper could then receive those and train them with his Warriors."

Gerald nodded. It was bright idea, though it was costly and a bit hopeful. But he was willing to take his chances. At worst, it would give him some well-trained soldiers for the army. At best, it would bolster the ranks of his elite corps in the future.

Certain nobles managedsimilar undertakings, but on a much smaller scale. They would take in several homeless children and raise them well. Their focus wouldn't be Warrior training though, it would be loyalty. They could grow up to be the guards of the family, or trusted aides. But the kind of undertaking being suggested now was unheard of in the subcontinent.

Gerald grinned. "I suppose we better begin today. There is not much time left before we begin journeying to the capital."

"I will let Robard know," the old steward said, leaving right away.

Gerald was thinking over the idea again when the familiar knock of Frederick sounded on the door. "Come in."

"My lord," Frederick stepped inside, looking a bit perplexed. "Yanna is without, asking to meet you."

Gerald was confused as well. Had something urgent come up? "Let her in."

Yanna walked in, more timid than usual in her approach. She stood in front of his table, quiet.

"Something the matter?" Gerald cocked his head. Even if somethinghappened, the girl wouldn't act so odd.

She stammered a few times before she managed to get her words out. "Harrid tells me that you are going to the Royal Capital, my lord."

"Harrid talks a lot." Gerald stared at her. "But yes, we are going to the capital." Uncle Rudolf would accompany him, and he would bring Harrid. He was already beginning to understand why Yanna was being odd today.

She fidgeted a little in her place, then she seemed to gather her courage, looking him straight in the eye. "Can I come with you, my lord?"

Gerald raised his brows. He wasn't surprised by her request, but he was surprised that she hadn't sweated a river before mouthing it. "You want to see the capital?"

She nodded without a word.

He knew the feeling; the pure curiosity that ate at one's heart to see that which was majestic.

Before he could reply, she added, "I've already prepared the house for my absence. There are people who will tell the guards if anything urgent happens, and Sir Robard would know right away."

Gerald nodded. He would have allowed her to accompany them either way, but it was good that she had handled those affairs as well. "Then you may accompany us. You and Harrid shall have the fortune of seeing the capital at such a young age; younger than even the lord will be when he sees it." He pointed at himself and chuckled.

She smiled, her smile breaking into a grin that she struggled to hold back.

"Now go," he said. "I have matters to handle."

She nodded and trotted out of the study.

After she left, Gerald gazed around the study with pressed lips, looking for something to do. Huh.

There was nothing to handle.

Chapter 84

Chapter 84

Gerald pulled the reins of his horse, bringing it to a stop. They'd ridden to the southern pass of early in the morning. His aides and even Lucas had escorted him there. Ahead of him was the narrow pass that could hardly fit fifty men abreast at its entrance, and it would get narrower as one walked deeper into it.

Gasper and Uncle Rudolf rode beside him while Robard, Arthur, and Lucas rode behind him.

Gerald turned his horse around eying the latter three. "It's farewell then, for a few months at least."

"May your journey be safe, my lord," Robard spoke first then saluted.

Lucas saluted as well. "Farewell, my lord."

Arthur bowed slightly on his horse with his weak body. "May you return to us healthier and wealthier, my lord."

"Thank you, Arthur," Gerald said, acknowledging his aides' farewells with a nod then turning his horse around and nodding to Gasper. The latter signaled for the fifty Warriors following them to begin moving again.

Gerald urged his horse forward into the pass. It was a straight passage, flanked by rocky walls on both side. Such walls would converge above them sometimes and create shaded areas below.

They spent the early morning riding across the Viscounty's border into the Baronies' lands. They were met by several patrolling riders who only stopped by to ascertain that the riders below the banner really belonged to the Viscounty north of them. Most of them were surprised to find that the lord himself was riding under the banner.

The Baron of the piece of land they were trudging was informed of their passage that day, and he sent Gerald an invitation to rest at his castle. But the journey was still beginning and Gerald had no time for pleasantries, so he refused.

A Baron's territory was often too small to stand for much on its own. So Gerald and his men passed managed to pass several Baronies on their first day without incident. The roads within the allied Baronies' lands seemed quite safe, and none of the Barons had shown any hostility or unwelcome behavior towards them, likely because he was leading so few men that he could never threaten them from within.

They set up camp for their first night in the wilderness. Their journey was still long. A lone rider with a good horse could perhaps reach the capital in one month. But a group like Gerald's would need at least a month and a half if not two months. Hopefully, the weather wouldn't be their enemy on this journey, at least not during most of it.

It took two more days to reach the southernmost Barony and prepare to cross the bridge. They were in Baron Elrite's territory. Gerald remembered that he was the one that had sent his daughter, Lady Reya, to the Viscounty. Gerald had disappointed her back then by telling her that he had no intention of seeking a union of marriage with her family, and by extension no intention to ally himself with the Baronies.

Gerald and his men arrived at the bridge before dusk. It was quite crowded with many passing merchants and travellers. Each would have to wait for their turn to cross the bridge. And Gerald reckoned that if he were to wait like everyone else, it would be dark before he and his entourage crossed it.

To his surprise, Baron Elrite didn't send someone to deliver his greetings but came himself to meet Gerald.

The Baron came guarded with a few dozen riders aside from the guards around the bridge. Gerald saw him from afar, and guessed that he was perhaps fifty years old, with greyish hair and streaks of black running through it.

The Baron rode forward from among his men, and Gerald too rode forward to meet him.

"Viscount Tellus," the Baron nodded. "It's a pleasure to have you in my lands."

"Thank you, Baron," Gerald said, smiling. "Your men have been most hospitable."

The Baron nodded, apparently having disregarded anything about Gerald's refusal to marry his daughter. "I must be honest. I didn't expect you to leave your territory so soon. Journeying to the capital, I assume?"

Gerald nodded reluctantly. He didn't want the news of his journey to reach the capital before his arrival. He was riding there under his family's banner, but he would bring the banner down as soon as he enters the Royal lands. The last thing he needed was the King's council asking him questions, or worse, asking him for the King's tribute.

"Quite the long journey that is," the baron said with a sigh. "Well, let me make it slightly shorter for you." He signaled for someone near the bridge, then a rider arrived soon after. The Baron whispered something to him and the rider nodded, galloping back to the bridge. "I had wished to talk to you longer, but it seems you're in a hurry."

Gerald nodded with a wry smile. He was indeed in a hurry. His face seemed to say it, but he hadn't noticed that his countenance was so easily readable today.

"I have commanded my men to let you cross the bridge before anyone else," the Baron continued. "It won't make your whole journey shorter, but at least it would make today's ride shorter for you and your men."

Gerald was quite surprised. He had been for a few days. The Barons had reacted quite kindly to his passage, and many of them had invited him to rest at their holdings. And now Baron Elrite was being courteous as well, even after the recent failed attemptby his daughter. It seemed that the Baronies wanted to at least stay on good terms with him, or perhaps aiming for an alliance.

Gerald thanked the Baron warmly then led his men across the bridge. His group received a few begrudging stares, but most of the stares dropped after noticing the noble banner flying above them.

Thus he and his men crossed the narrow stone bridge before nightfall and continued on their journey.

After crossing the bridge, they had stepped into another territory, the lord of which Gerald didn't know much about.

They didn't meet as many patrols in this new territory, but they were still stopped by one during their ride through it. It seemed there was not as much scrutiny to passersby in this territory as there was in the Baronies, since merchants often passed through these lands. For the northern Baronies, the passage of so many merchants towards the Viscounty had likely been unusual, and they had still not loosened their guard when it came to passersby.

They passed two more Viscounties on their journey without anything odd to see. After that, they came across their first incident, quite a peculiar one.

Their road was blocked by a dying horse, the owner of which was sitting beside it and caressing its neck. He was a decently armored man, but he was wearing no noble colors.

"A traveller?" Gerald mouthed to Uncle Rudolf.

"Perhaps," the old steward said.

Gerald shrugged. If the man didn't move the dying horse, they could still circle around the spot. But he saw someone who would have trouble doing that.

On the other side of the man and the dying horse, a carriage came to a stop. Two riders flanked the carriage. One of them seemed like an ordinary guard while the other was heavy in a full set of steel armor,apparently a knight.

The supposed knight wasn't wearing a visor, and irritation was obvious on his face. He didn't wait long before yelling at the traveller sitting beside the dying horse. "Drag that filthy corpse to the side of the road. My lady's carriage needs to pass."

The traveller, who seemed to be in his late middle years, simply ignored the yelling knight. He kept caressing his horse with a grieving countenance. The Horse seemed to be breathing with difficulty, and it would likely not last for long.

Gerald had been meaning to lead his men around the blocked road, but what would transpire in a few moments interested him. So he waited.

The knight dismounted, his irritation seemingly turning into barely suppressed fury. He stepped closer to the traveller. "Did you not hear me?"

The traveller finally spared the knight a glance, an indifferent one as far as Gerald could tell. "Your filthy lady can wait."

The knight's surprise froze his features for a moment, before they morphed into unbridled fury. "What did you say, commoner?" He gripped the hilt of his sword, drawing it half way out of its sheath.

"Did you not hear me?" the traveller said, not even sparing the knight a second glance. His eyes were back on his horse again. He caressed it and whispered something into its ears.

The knight fully drew his sword. "I'm knight errant Oldo Valsoy. For the honor of my lady, Lena Ulryck, I challenge you to a duel."

"After my horse passes," the traveller said, as if dismissing a child.

"I will not wait another moment," the knight growled.

The traveller turned to meet the knight's eyes. "Then I will not show mercy."

"As if I would need a vagabond's mercy," the knight snorted.

The traveller stood up, obviously reluctant to part with his dying horse. His glare was fixed on the interrupting knight.

Gerald glanced at Gasper and Uncle Rudolf beside him. "He doesn't seem scared."

"Perhaps a travelling Warrior?" Gasper muttered.

"Likely," Uncle Rudolf said. "And if he is . . . "

Gerald eyed the two combatants again. They had moved to the middle of the road beyond the dying horse. The traveller drew his sword and circled his opponent.

After a few moments of circling, the two of them lunged towards each other. The knight took several steps forward, swinging his sword wide. But the traveller merely took what seemed to be three leaps towards the knight. Gerald barely saw his sword cutting through the air, faster than any he'd seen.

Like the stories he'd read when he was a child. The two combatants rushed past each other, or more accurately, the traveller rushed past the knight.

There was a delayed scream coming out of the knight's mouth as his sword arm dropped to the ground beside him, cut off from the shoulder. The traveller had slashed at the unarmored shoulder joint of the knight's armor, lopping his arm right off.

"He cut through the mail?" Gasper gaped. Most knights would wear light mail below their plate armor. It wasn't impossible to cut through, but that didn't mean that one could cut through them with an ordinary long sword in a single swing

Gerald looked at Uncle Rudolf. "A travelling Heaven Warrior."

Gasper turned to the two of them. "I thought they were too rare to meet."

Uncle Rudolf shook his head. "Not as rare as you might imagine. Most of the Heaven Warriors out there are travellers. They seek the next step on their path; the one that would allow them passage into the City of Saints. They all dream of it. Very few Heaven Warriors actually serve nobles. A Battlemaster is more likely to accept a lord's invitation than a travelling Heaven Warrior. Of course the former are too few, so Heaven Warrior knights still outnumber them in general."

The screaming knight kneeled on the ground, holding his profusely bleeding shoulder, his eyes not leaving it for a moment. His furious face from before had turned into a panicked one.

Gerald spied the other rider who was beside the carriage shaking his head, as if he'd expected something of sorts from the beginning.

The traveller walked back to the kneeling knight and swiftly slipped the tip of his sword into the latter's neck from behind. There was a moment of choked coughing that was followed with silence and a thump as the knight fell into a pool of his own blood.

A young woman's head popped out of the carriage. She yelped at the sight and retracted her face quickly.

The traveller glanced at the other guard of the carriage, apparently prepared to take on another opponent. But the mounted guard didn't show any hostility or even care for the fallen knight's corpse.

He then glanced at Gerald's much larger group warily, and seemed relieved that they didn't intend to do anything.

He then walked back to his horse and knelt beside it again. The horse was still breathing, though much slower than before. And it hadn't been breathing quickly before either.

Gerald glanced at Gasper and said, "send someone with a cloth and some water."

Gasper seemed perplexed. "Yes, my lord. But I'm certain that he has water and a cloth himself."

Uncle Rudolf chuckled and looked at Gerald. "He won't accept an invitation, Gerald. You shouldn't bother."

Gerald shrugged. "No harm in trying."

One of the elite corps's Warriors was soon sent with a cloth and some water, which the traveller accepted with a nod to Gerald.

It wasn't long before the horse breathed its last.

Gerald sent some of his men to help the traveller move it to the side of the road and proceed to dig a grave for it. He told his men to rest for a while, as he wanted to get a chance to invite the traveller into his service.

Oddly, the carriage hadn't left after the road was cleared.

Chapter 85

Chapter 85

Gasper wiped the sweat on his forehead after the prolonged dig. He'd naturally expected a horse to need a large grave, but it he'd been surprised to find out that his imagination had deceived him. A horse needed a very large grave, specially when its owner wanted it to be buried 'properly'. He didn't blame the travelling Warrior's for caring this much about his horse. Even an ordinary man would have an emotional bond with their horse, let alone a traveller who spent most of his time with his.

The horse had been buried properly after a lot of effort from the travelling Warrior, whose name was Evron, and several elite corps Warriors including himself. The lord had specially nudged him into helping dig the grave. He wanted him to begin building a good standing with the travelling Heaven Warrior. Obvious to the blind, the Viscount wanted to recruit the rare Warrior. On one hand, Gasper didn't mind trying. He agreed with the lord's motivations, there was no harm in trying. On the other hand, Master Rudolf believed that this was all a waste of their time. The old steward had even said that the Viscount would likely refuse to abandon this opportunity even after being refused, which would extend their stay here and delay them for the better part of a day.

Gasper understood the notion coming from the old man; specially considering that the latter never said anything that would turn out to be entirely wrong. Gasper had even taken the old man's occasional advice as a compass for his conduct in the lord's court and had also taken his advice seriously when he'd been leading the pretend bandit crew.

Gasper glanced at the tired diggers around him then at Evron who also seemed tired but also grieving. The Heaven Warrior had taken a small rock as a seat and was gazing at the late horse's grave. Gasper honestly had no idea how to console a man about the death of his horse. He knew that to a traveller, the horse was like a close friend or even a brother. But if he were to go and console him on that basis, he would sound ridiculous. You could understand the deep relation between a man and his horse, but you couldn't speak about the horse as if it was really a man. The receiving side of your consolation might even believe you to be mocking them if you were particularly unfortunate. And the last thing he needed was to offend Evron. The Viscount would likely be furious if he did.

He still approached the man though. He stopped a step and a half away from him, trying not to be pushy with his attempt at comforting him. He would just need to step back and walk away if the travelling Warrior didn't feel like talking.

He sighed loud enough to get Evron's attention then said, "I can only think that my day would be as gloomy as yours if I were to somehow lose my horse. I hate to think of that day. It has been my companion for a while now."

Evron nodded solemnly, hiding some of the grief on his face. Apparently, he seemed a bit embarrassed by the whole incident. He was a bit beyond the limit of simple sadness for his dead horse, and that would have likely gotten him some ridicule had he not been a Heaven Warrior.

"How long?"

"A decade," Evron said, sighing and shaking his head in something akin to disbelief. "It survived through many battles and injuries along the years . . . alongside me, but it had to go in the end still."

Gasper nodded with praise. "Such a persistent horse." A horse that saw combat was likely to die within five years of its birth, perhaps even earlier. It made more sense now that Evron would be that attached to his mount. Ten years was a long time; enough for a man to bond with a chair, let alone a horse. Gasper glanced at the grave of the horse then back at the grieving Heaven Warrior. "I suppose the lord wouldn't mind lending you a mount till the next stop."

Evron gave him a knowing, weak smile. "And would he pass up the chance of recruiting me?"

Gasper froze for a moment. He was giving the offer in an attempt to actually divert the man's thoughts from this being an opportunistic attempt at recruiting him, but the Heaven Warrior was obviously sharper or at least more experienced in this matter than he'd imagined. He ended up shrugging helplessly. "Wouldn't we all try had we such an opportunity?"

Evron nodded. "We would indeed. I don't blame you, honestly. Through my travels, it's become clear that lords simply can't help it when it comes to the likes of me. They always care about having a Heaven Warrior among their ranks, specially one that has a good chance of becoming something more." He nodded sideways, implying something that Gasper easily understood from the words alone.

Gasper knew that of course. A chance of having a Battlemaster serve you was irresistible to lords. That's when the strength of an individual alone could make a difference at certain instances, like a siege or a risky excursion. They were nowhere near omnipotent, but they were a sought-after advantage that very few lords inferior to a Duke had. Their rarity alone made them great for boasting among a noble's peers. So in a way, they were both a great martial addition as well as a grand trophy that one could use to prove the extent of their prestige.

"I suppose you don't intend to join our ranks then?" Gasper said with a weak smile of his own.

"Forgive me. I cannot. I stand to lose too much," Evron said.

Gasper nodded. "Let us not dwell on it then. I understand your dilemma—" Something odd caught his eye. He turned towards the carriage that had still not left, even with the unblocked road. The lady inside was popping her head out again, but she was talking to one of his Warriors this time.

ß----------------------------------------------à

Gerald was stealing glances at Gasper and Evron when one of the elite corps's Warriors approached him with an invitation from the lady in the carriage. She wanted to speak with him, it seemed.

He was slightly irritated by the untimely invitation, but he didn't forget that the knight errant that she had sent had been one of the reasons he came upon this opportunity. It would be too discourteous to refuse anyway, and a few moments of his time would do no harm anyway.

He approached the carriage. The mounted guard dismounted as he saw Gerald approaching on foot. He gave him a nod, and Gerald nodded back.

The door of the carriage was open. A whisper came from inside. "Please enter, Lord Tellus."

Gerald stepped up into the carriage. He took a seat opposite the lady, while the door was kept open for the sake of propriety. He observed her for a moment. Quite thin and bony if he were to judge, though she had delicate skin and dressed herself well enough. The reasons of him being here were so far ambiguous, so he decided to strike her with a direct question. "Is my help needed, my lady?"

"So straight forward, my lord." She sighed. "I doubt you even know my name. And here I was preparing to thank you."

He cocked his head, a bit annoyed. Her words seemed to give him more questions than answers, and he hated that. "Your name was made quite clear by the knight errant you brought with you, Lady Lena Ulryck." He paused a moment. The first time he'd heard the name, it hadn't taken much of his attention because of the confrontation that was happening. But now, it actually gave him slight pause. Through no will of his own, he found himself giving her more leeway because of her name. Though it certainly didn't bring a smile to his face to remember that he was riding farther and farther away from his sister, instead of in her direction. "And what is it that you intend to thank me for?" he asked.

"Why, of course for saving me from such danger," she said, wearing the most dramatic expression she seemed capable of mustering. "I see that you have already subdued the murderous man." She glanced outside of the carriage.

Gerald almost snorted at her words. It was quite obvious that the man was as far from being physically subdued as he was from killing anyone else today. It was also obvious that he was being treated very well by Gerald's men. Nevertheless, Gerald didn't hold back on his assault. Though he would have already left had he not taken some interest in the young woman. "I honestly don't believe that you would have been in any danger had you not brought such a reckless guardian with you."

Still dramatic, she shook her head with a helpless smile. "Sir Oldo was quite the driven man, I will admit. But he was not a guardian of mine." She sighed with mustered grief. "Although I would rather not speak ill of him after his death, he was indeed quite . . . clingy."

Gerald stared at her for a moment. He'd forgotten something important. Why was she not more shocked? He had taken the incident as more of a queer, interesting event without taking into account that a young lady such as her should not be behaving similarly. A man that she likely knew for while was brutally cut down, and she had witnessed at least the latter part of it. Yet, she seemed less shaken than an ordinary lady of her age would be. Huh. He actually began to feel uneasy instead of irritated at this invitation of hers. "Lady Ulryck, what is it you want from me?" He shot her the sharpest glare he had, hopefully making his exasperation with her antics clear.

She smiled good-naturedly, or so he would think if he had not already realized that she was a master pretender. "Please, I intend you no discourtesy, your lordship. I only wanted to thank you by inviting you to gathering that my uncle has arranged."

"I'm afraid I must decline your invitation, my lady. However I thank you for your consideration." He got up, stepping out of the carriage. "I'm afraid I have much to attend to, my lady. So it will be farewell for now."

"Lord Tellus," she hurriedly said. "Please reconsider. My invitation extends to your men as well. There will be a feast for the soldierly nearby during the gathering. Many of the region's nobles are attending. I daresay that it would be quite the opportunity for you to meet some worthy acquaintances." She paused for a moment, searching his face as he turned back to look at her. "Perhaps you need some time to confer with your aides. I shall wait a bit longer."

He stayed silent, because he did indeed need to 'confer with his aides'. He needed to know what direction the Heaven Warrior was heading.

He returned to his men and summoned Gasper from the company of Evron, immediately asking him where the travelling Warrior was heading.

"North, my lord," Gasper said. "North and more north, he told me so when I asked."

Gerald smirked. The lady was obviously heading in the same direction, and that was likely where the gathering was. He gave Gasper a look. "Any luck?"

Gasper shook his head with a wry smile. "It is like Master Rudolf says, my lord. He doesn't seem to have any need or want that we can fulfill."

Gerald gritted his teeth slightly. It was still a bit annoying to hear it in such raw words. It was no wonder though. They all dreamed of the City of Saints. Becoming a Battlemaster was the dream of every Heaven Warrior that wasn't past sixty years of age. It was the only way to become a true citizen of the revered City of Saints.Becoming a Battlemaster also came with a lot of privileges that no one could ignore. For one, a Battlemaster was sought out by high nobility and almost every King out there. He would be treated with much more respect compared to ordinary subordinates, and certainly more respect than what he would get as a Heaven Warrior. And they would likely spend the rest of their lives needing for nothing and making their own decisions, choosing which house to join without having to worry for any losses, as most would accommodate them with whatever they could afford. But most Battlemasters had other aims than coin when they reached that level. There was a strict reason why they rarely served anyone but Dukes and King regardless of how much coin was thrown at them. It was the opportunity to be landed and named a noble themselves. Only Dukes and Kings had the power to give such privileges, even if sparingly. But at least in the employ of such powerful sovereigns or nobles, a Battlemaster was likely to get an opportunity to prove his worth and win enough favor to gain something of sorts. It wasn't unheard of. It actually happened more often than one would expect, as far as Gerald knew.

He sighed. "Tell him that we will escort him on our path. I doubt he would refuse our company."

Gasper nodded and was about to turn before stopping. "He did mention repaying us with a small service if we needed, my lord."

Gerald raised his brows, pleasantly surprised. He rubbed his chin for a moment then nodded. "Let's be patient for now."

"Yes, my lord," Gasper said before leaving.

It wasn't long before everyone was prepared to leave. Gerald informed Lena Ulryck that he would attend the gathering, obviously for more than one reason. And Evron accepted their offer of company.

They were soon moving north. In a way, they were erasing their own progress in the journey, but it was only delay of two days at most. And Gerald believed there was much to gain from this delay.

Chapter 86

Chapter 86

Gerald and his men accompanied Lena Ulryck's carriage to a nondescript town. The only thing that stood out in it was a lone, stone keep right in the middle of it, fancier than one would expect of a village-turned-town like this one. But it seemed that whichever house ruled these lands spared no expense in polishing their image in front of everyone else.

The keep was unique in its oddity, its walls painted white, but its two small spires unpainted. It seemed to be trying too hard to look like a palace but to no avail.

The town wasn't surrounded by any walls. Some areas were surrounded by wooden palisades, but Gerald knew that this region wasn't plagued by war or bandits. That was likely why they needed no such thing as high walls. But it was likely that that wasn't the only reason. He assumed it was more about how badly the ruling House handled its expenditure along the generations, evident from the lavish keep.

As they rode into town along with the carriage, they drew a few curious gazes from its residents. If these people were used to guests coming for gatherings and feasts, they weren't used to groups of armed strangers entering the town. Perhaps that feast for the soldiers was only for the lord's men. Gerald didn’t like the thought. It meant that the odd lady had lured him here after all. Even if she had the influence to invite him to the gathering, she likely didn't have enough authority to bring his men into town. Regardless, he would wait and see.

They soon reached the keep's gates where the guards stopped them. They were armored in the colors of the Viscount of these lands, who was apparently Lena Ulryck's uncle.

They let Lena's carriage through the gates first, from which Lena descended. She said something to one of who guards who soon hurried into the keep. Then she turned and gave Gerald a soft smile from where she was standing, seemingly urging him to be patient.

Gerald frowned. It seemed that it was as he'd expected. She didn't have much power here, even if she had some influence over her uncle. He glanced at Uncle Rudolf who shrugged. On the other side of him Gasper and Evron were on their horses, murmuring something. Gerald turned to them and saw Gasper taking a few coins out and handing them to the travelling Warrior with a defeated sigh. Gerald thought he'd heard Evron say something along the lines of 'You shouldn't have wagered against me'.

Gasper seemed to notice his gaze and smiled wryly. "Evron told me that the lady was leading us on, my lord. I thought he was wrong."

Gerald didn't know whether to be bothered or to chuckle. He didn't get a chance to think about it as he spotted a man of perhaps forty years coming to the gates from within and meeting Lena.

She seemed to be pleading with him for something, less like a beggar asking for a favor and more like a spoilt child demanding something she shouldn't have. The man was frowning back at her. They argued for a few moments, but Lena didn't seem like one who let matters rest.

Soon, the man seemed to admit defeat. He signaled for the guards at the gate who allowed Gerald and his men inside.

Gerald dismounted and so did his men. They walked through the gates with their horses beside them.

The man stood there, waiting for their entrance. And as they did, he greeted them. "Welcome to my keep, fair men of House Tellus." With a searching gaze, he sought something among them, then his eyes quickly settled on Gerald. "I suppose you are Lord Gerald Tellus?"

"Indeed, your lordship." Gerald smiled amicably.

"It is a pleasure to meet you then. I am Viscount Lorius Ulryck, the ruler of this territory. You are welcome to attend the humble gathering I have arranged tonight, and your men can rest with mine and enjoy a feast as well."

Gerald nodded, bowing his head slightly. "Thank you for your generosity, Lord Ulryck."

"Please, it is nothing," Lord Ulryck said. "You are welcome to rest inside the keep until nightfall if you wish."

"No need," Gerald said. "The training grounds should suffice for now."

The man seemed relieved by Gerald's choice. He nodded with a smile then called for one of the guards to lead them to the training grounds.

Gerald raised a brow at the man's reaction. Perhaps he was still busy with the preparations inside the keep. They had come uninvited after all.

After they arrived at the training grounds, Gerald used the chance to speak to Evron. That was why he'd chosen to rest at the training grounds for time being. He wouldn't have been able to talk to the travelling Warrior if he had decided to rest inside.

Gasper was sitting with him to one side. They were talking about something animatedly. A spar as it turned out. Gerald heard the word when he came close enough.

They both stood up when they noticed him. But Gerald decided to take a seat beside them on the large, jutted rock they were resting on. "No need to stay on your feet," he told them.

They sat down.

He glanced at Evron for a moment and smiled. "I hear you don't plan to stay."

Evron shook his head apologetically. "Forgive me, your lordship. I have a journey ahead of me that I must complete. But I would be glad to return the kindness you've shown me by doing you a service, if you'd like."

Gerald grew silent for a moment. It was that again. "I understand." He nodded. He didn't really have much hope of the man actually becoming a subordinate of his. He decided to ignore that 'service' for now. "Will you buy another horse then?"

Evron's countenance turned melancholy again for a moment then he nodded. "I must. But I doubt they'd sell me one here. I don't think that lady likes me very much after what happened this morning. It was reckless enough of me to come here."

Gerald smiled. "I don't think she would go as far as trying to harm you while you're with us in here. But you're right. I don't think they'd sell you a horse either." He chuckled. "But worry not. You can have one of ours, as a gift."

"I can't, your lordship—"

"You wouldn't refuse my gift, would you?" Gerald leveled his eyes on him with an intense gaze.

Evron sighed and seemed grateful for Gerald's insistence. "You have my thanks, your lordship."

Gerald also produced a letter from his armor and handed it to the travelling Warrior. "Take this. Gasper should have told you about my territory by now. The southern border of it is blocked by my men. It wouldn't be easy to persuade them that you mean no harm. Things aren't very peaceful there at the moment. This letter will solve that."

Evron accepted the letter but seemed uncomfortable with all the favors he was receiving. He was about to speak when Gerald cut him off.

"That service you want to do me . . . "

Evron nodded waiting for Gerald's request.

"Would I still be due that service after you become a Battlemaster?" Gerald mouthed.

Evron froze for a moment. "Ahem . . . yes, your lordship. If fate were to bring us together again and if I were to become a Battlemaster, I would still owe you such service and more." He glanced at the letter. "But I'm not certain that I will become a Battlemaster. No one can be."

Gerald smiled. "I have faith in you. And we will meet again." The man was obviously entranced by the City of Saints like many others. And Gerald was as well. He would certainly visit it someday, and if Evron had become a Battlemaster by then, he would also be there as a true resident of the city. Only Battlesaints and Battlemasters were allowed to bring their family and stay permanently in the City of Saints. Other people would only be allowed to visit. If they were there to work, they would be allowed to stay as long as they were needed, then they would have to leave. The city was a thing of beauty, if what Gerald had heard about it was real.

Evron nodded, taking Gerald's words with more gratitude than any of the gifts that preceded it. "Thank you. I look forward to that day."

Gerald nodded back. "How will you go about your journey, I wonder? Will you take a ship from Andross?"

Evron shook his head. "I will ride my whole journey north, until there is nothing north of me but sea."

Gerald shifted his posture, confusion all over his face. "You will ride through the Wild plains? And even if you survive that, you also plan to traverse the mountains between the Warring Duchies and Kanad?"

"Yes," Evron said. He sighed and began to explain, "I swore that I would finish this journey from beginning to end without aid. I believe that through this experience I will take the next step on my path."

"Or you will die," Gasper said from the side. "You can't survive the mountains, no matter how strong you are."

Gerald nodded. "Crossing the mountains is nigh impossible." He even wondered how the travelling Warrior had planned to take his horse with him through mountains.

Evron smiled and shook his head. "My father was a mountain ranger, and so was I. I know that it doesn't make me invincible, but I trust my capabilities in the mountains. It's a challenge that I must endure."

Gerald chose not to press it further. The travelling Warrior seemed determined enough that no one could change his mind. "Then good fortunes to you. Now, you two were talking about a spar, yes?"

Evron and Gasper nodded in unison.

Gerald glanced at the middle of the grounds where Harrid was sparring with one of the Warriors and Yanna was watching from the side. He led Evron and Gasper there and watched as Harrid's sword was knocked out of his hand. The boy and the Warrior soon stepped aside to make way for the two new combatants.

Gasper and Evron stepped in the middle and faced each other.

This was a good chance to understand the difference of strength between Sky and Heaven Warriors. Gasper was good with his sword and on his feet. He wanted to see how long he would last against Evron. Then he might even choose to spar with him as well.

The two opponents circled each other, swords ready and eyes alert. Gasper was obviously waiting for Evron to make the first move, since attacking would only be foolish, specially this early.

Evron complied when he understood the knight's silent wish and leapt forward, faster than any man Gerald had seen. He was in front of Gasper in a moment, swinging his sword with the most ordinary slash possible. But the sight didn't fool Gerald. He knew that even this ordinary slash could be deadly when executed with such agility.

Gasper wasn't quite so ready to be beaten yet. He took a short step back and met the coming sword with his own. He parried instead of blocking, letting the parry lead him a bit to the side. Evron, however, wasn't thrown to the side with the perfect parry. He retracted his sword arm like a whip and hopped back to receive Gasper's riposte. He parried the thrust, but it seemed that Gasper had thrown it half-heartedly as the knight quickly retracted his sword as well.

The two of them stared each other down before the next clash. Then Gasper attacked this time. He slashed low toward Evron's legs, but the Heaven Warrior hopped back once more to avoid it. Gasper followed it by fixing his sword's path to an ascending slash, seemingly putting all his strength into it. Evron pushed it aside with his sword and sidestepped atthe same time. He didn't return the attack though. He was giving Gasper a chance to go at him before ending the spar, it seemed.

Gasper seemed to notice, and he accepted the invitation. He leapt at Evron and swung his sword wide for a powerful slash. To everyone's surprise, Evron took it on with his sword, blocking it entirely. There was a Clang as his sword stopped Gasper's in its tracks. The difference in strength was obvious to any who'd fought before. Evron's sword wasn't even pushed an inch back as it blocked Gasper's strike. It had weathered the strike with unmoving defense. Gerald even believed that such rigidity had caused the two swords to dull at the spot where they clashed.

Gasper froze in surprise for a moment, but he soon took his sword back. Evron had used both his arms to stop his strike, but it was still unimaginable that someone could block a slash with such stability. Gasper had challenged him with a wide swing, expecting the Heaven Warrior to evade or parry, but he was given a surprise in return.

Evron abandoned his defense and moved to attack Gasper again, this time with a glint in his eyes. He struck three times from the same side; one high towards the head, one in the middle towards the ribs, and one low towards the knees. His sword blurred as the three strikes descended on Gasper. The latter barely shrugged the first two off before jumping back with all his strength and raising his legs with bent knees to avoid the strike. He did, but he lost his balance in exchange. He landed wobbling like a wooden doll. By the time he'd gotten his balance back to take a defensive stance, Evron's blade was at his throat.

Silence followed as the sword was retracted and breaths were released. Evron spoke first. "You're good on your feet. And your sword isn't heavy, unless you want it to be. This would have been a nice spar had you been a Heaven Warrior yourself."

Gasper didn't look consoled by the words. He shook his head. "I thought I was better."

Evron laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "If it's any consolation, I've beaten most of the Heaven Warriors I've sparred with. You're good with the sword, and you'll keep improving as you grow. Just give it time and you'll be better than most.

Gasper nodded, a notion of a smile painting itself on his face. "I didn't know you were that strong though. I thought the difference would be . . . less."

Evron chuckled. "There are two reasons."

Gerald approached them, wanting to hear in detail.

"The first is that I was stronger than most of those my age before I even became a Warrior. The second is that the difference in strength increases as one ascends our path. The difference between you and me is larger than the difference between you and an Earth Warrior. Not by much, but it's noticeable still. From what I hear, the difference between me and a Battlemaster would be devastating if I tried to fight one."

Gasper nodded as Gerald came to stand beside him. He patted his knight on the back. "At least you'll now know what you're fighting if you ever come to face a Heaven Warrior. He looked at Evron. "I wouldn't mind a spar myself, however short it might turn out to be."

Evron chuckled in response. "No harm in trying, I suppose."

Chapter 87

Chapter 87

Gerald absorbed another strike from Evron with his sword. It was beginning to anger him, this feeling. Every time he intended to begin a series of attacks on the Heaven Warrior, the latter would strike first, and his strike would come just in time to break Gerald's rhythm before it even started.

He prepared himself one more time, hoping to land a few attacks on Evron, but he found himself on the receiving end of another strike that stopped him in his tracks. He gritted his teeth and took half a step back. If he couldn't attack properly then he would defend. He hadn't expected this spar to be this onesided. Evron's quick strikes weren't like Gasper's from the other day. Gasper would use openings to strike between his attacks and break his rhythm. But Evron was worse; he used his anticipation to ruin the attack before it even began. It was infuriating to a certain extent, but the Heaven Warrior was just that fast.

Evron read Gerald's offer to attack and didn't refuse it. He approached with a blurring overhead slash that Gerald struggled to parry during his sidestep.

He now realized that his advantage, speed, was no longer his. Evron outdid him in every field. Another strike came, a slash from the side. He tried to parry it, but he felt shooting pain coursing through his wrist. Evron's strike was faster than what he could parry, and his attempt at defending turned into a crossbreed between a block and a parry. He barely moved himself out of coming sword's path, though he suspected Evron allowed him to do so.

He decided to try again. Perhaps he had simply been unfortunate during the previous strike. But the next attack from Evron dashed all his hopes of resistance. He found himself facing another attack from above, faster and stronger than the two that preceded it. He couldn't move in time and was forced to block, but he didn't find enough strength in his arms to block the strike properly. For a moment, he found one of his knees weakening by instinct. If it were real combat, he would have had to kneel down to absorb the strength of the strike instead of allowing it to cut down through one of his shoulders, but fortunately this wasn't real combat. Evron, having realized Gerald's dilemma, stopped his attack out of courtesy, retracting his sword and stepping back.

Gerald took an overdue breath and nodded to the Heaven Warrior. He wasn't far from kneeling in front of his men, which wouldn't have been a pleasant sight for them to remember, since they weren't even in the thick of battle where everyone would have other things to worry about.

He admitted his inferiority silently by sheathing his sword. It had taken him more time than it should have to realize that even two of him wouldn't be able to faze Evron. The travelling Warrior's spar with Gasper had given Gerald the illusion that he could hold his own in a similar spar. But he was quickly reminded that he was not as good a combatant as Gasper, and of course nowhere near as good as Evron. The spar hadn't passed without its benefits though. He finally realized why his use of the lightning attribute was so easy to interrupt by a Warrior's good eye. I was his footing. Most combatants would watch their opponents shoulders, sword, or waist to look for signs of the next attack, but those with enough experience would be able to tell that the lightning attribute's style of combat was better countered by watching the footing.

He wanted to chuckle at his own blindness to that problem, considering that one of the first things one learned while training in the attribute was how to spring strength from their feet all the way up to their arms and deliver strikes that didn't need as much movement from their upper body. It was right in front of him all that time.

Now that he knew about it, he could work on improving his attacks and making them less readable. Regardless, it wasn't like he could fight a Heaven Warrior as he was now, no matter how much skill he gained.

He thanked Evron for the spar before the travelling Warrior decided that it was time to depart.

"We shall meet again, your lordship," Evron said as they saw him off.

Gerald nodded to that. They would, someday.

He spent the rest of daylight waiting with his men. It was a bit tiring that there was no one to attend to him. Frederick had been left in the Viscounty so that he wouldn't be recognized by any of his uncle's 'friends' during this journey, and Harrid either sparred with the Warriors or received Uncle Rudolf's training.

Dusk came faster than he expected. It was then that Viscount Ulryck's attendant came and invited Gerald inside.

He headed towards the keep that was masquerading as a palace. The edge of the training grounds overlooked the gates from which he and his men entered. Before he headed inside, he spied guests arriving in lavish carriages, escorted by mounted guards.

Gerald took Gasper with him inside. For the sake of propriety, he couldn't take any man lesser than a knight with him. It was even preferable that he attend on his own, since it would mostly be a gathering of nobles and their kin. Knights would be scarce in these kinds of gatherings unless there was a tournament on the horizon, or a duel of some kind.

Being one of the earliest to arrive, Gerald found the gathering hall mostly empty. He saw some guests that he unsurprisingly didn't recognize, but Viscount Lorious Ulryck was there, welcoming those who arrived, one by one. It didn't take long for him to approach Gerald while holding his wine goblet.

Gerald faced the host and smiled. Gasper, who stood by his side, did the same.

"Lord Tellus," Viscount Ulryck said, barking a loud courtesy laugh. "I hope this humble gathering of mine proves a pleasant evening for you."

"I'm certain it will, Lord Ulryck," Gerald said. He gestured towards Gasper. "This is Sir Gasper. My knight." He took a goblet of wine from one of the servants patrolling the hall.

"I see," Viscount Ulryck said, glancing at Gasper. "Let it be a pleasant evening for both of you then."

"It will provide a chance to make new acquaintances, that's for certain," Gerald said. He glanced at the entrance, from which entered a trickle of new guests. "Let us not occupy too much of your time then." He gestured towards the entrance with his goblet.

Viscount Ulryck glanced at the entrance and nodded to Gerald with a smile before taking his leave.

Gerald ran his eyes over the hall. It was better than anything he had in his keep. The floor was tiled in white, and the walls were thick with white paint that no longer showed the shape of the coarse stone the keep was built with. A golden crown of candles hung from the ceiling, reminding Gerald of the halls of Malfi palace. He sighed and moved on.

Along with Gasper, hetook to one of the hall's corners then searched for Lena Ulryck with his eyes. And of course, she hadn't arrived yet. From what he'd seen from her so far, he expected her to make a late entrance, like most ladies who seek to make a strong impression on a crowd like this one.

Gradually, the hall began filling up with guests. Gerald marveled at the amount of people Viscount Ulryck was acquainted with. Fortunately, the hall was large enough to accommodate the continuous flow of people.

To Gerald's surprise, he spotted a familiar face entering the hall. It was Reya Elrite. The lady who'd visited him in Ard before. He'd met her father, Baron Elrite, not long ago when the latter had let him and his men cross the river before everyone else.

She arrived accompanying a few other ladies, all of them as young as she was. Their group was greeted by Viscount Ulryck first then beset by many persistent young men. They sailed around the hall greeting other groups and pairs of guests, all the while shrugging off the approaches of the eager youths that often crowded them.

A bard began to sing and the subtle melody of the harp floated within the hall. Gerald savored his wine and listened. It wasn't long before two more of the bard's kind joined him with a flute and a drum fashioned from sheepskin. A troupe of dancers then moved to the middle of the hall, occupying it to entertain the guests.

Gerald's eyes strayed for a few moments before he realized that Reya Elrite had noticed him. She split off from the group she was accompanying and approached him and Gasper.

"Lord Tellus," she said. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Gerald smiled. He hadn't expected to see her here either. "During my journey towards the capital, I met someone who invited me here. I didn't want to turn down their generosity."

"Ah, no wonder." She nodded. "It is still pleasant to meet you, Lord Tellus."

"The pleasure is mine," he said. "What brings you to a gathering this far from the Elrite territory though?"

"Oh, it's Lena. She's the Viscount's niece," Reya explained. "We got acquainted to each other in another gathering, one that was much closer to father's territory. She invited me here for this evening. She promised that it would be worth the distance." She glanced at the crowded hall. "And it is worth it indeed. So many people. This is not unlike what a Duke would arrange with all its grandeur."

He nodded, smirking when she mentioned Lena. It seemed that the shrewd young lady Ulryck reached even farther than he imagined her capable. He wondered how many of the guests she was responsible for. Perhaps this wasn't all due to the Viscount after all.

Reya glanced back at her companions who were waving for her then turned back to Gerald. "They're already eager to have me back." She smiled. "I will have to take my leave."

He nodded. "I'm glad to have met you again, Lady Reya."

She curtsied in response before trotting back to her company. He watched them join the troupe and dance freely in the middle of the hall. Reya was pushed into the dance by one of her companions. They danced even after the troupe left, and they were soon joined by others who wanted to enjoy their time.

Lena Ulryck didn't disappoint and made her entrance later than most as Gerald had expected. When the large doors of the hall opened, everyone's eyes were attracted to dazzling entrant. Lena arrived in a white dress, her shoulder straps missing her shoulders and holding onto her arms. Her brown hair was tied up high, and two swirling locks hung down to her cheeks. Like all the other ladies, her bosom was upheld by whatever invisible workings that women employed in the hidden recesses of their clothing. But unlike others, her breasts were half-bare at the top, a ravine splitting them and inviting the imagination of men and women alike. She came in followed by two younger ladies who seemed ready to fulfill her every need. She threw courtesy nods here and there while sauntering in, as if she didn't realize that she was the focus of attention, or didn't care.

Many approached her to deliver their greetings or seek her company, and she soon melded into the crowd.

Gerald was about to ask Gasper what he thought of her, when someone interrupted his first word.

"Lord Tellus!"

Gerald turned towards the voice and found a man of perhaps forty years of age. He was dressed in very luxurious garments, even compared to the wealthy guests of this gathering. The skin on his face seemed overstretched and stuck to the bones, but it looked dazzlingly white.

"Forgive me," Gerald said. "I don't believe I know you."

"Oh, but I know you, Lord Tellus."

Table of Contents

- Table Of Contents -
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87