Two weeks passed without incident after the failed ambush on the caravan. Frederick's Company would pass the occasional traveler or group of farmers but no one attempted to cause trouble. There were a few groups that Isaac thought would have robbed them, given the chance, but lacked the numbers to do so. Most people they encountered simply moved aside, gawking at the spectacle of two dozen armed mercenaries accompanied by eleven men and women covered in hides and furs singing their strange, repetitive songs.

The wooded areas and wild meadows dotted with occasional small farming villages began to give way to larger, more regular settlements. Travelers on the roads became more frequent, often staring and pointing at the chanting druids or the mercenaries from the north with their peculiar round shields and axes.

"All of this is farmland?" one of the women from the north said. Svarja, her name was. She had the same short, blonde hair and blue eyes the other northern mercenaries did and stood as tall as most Wolleman men, only a couple of inches shorter than Isaac himself.

"It is," Isaac replied as he continued to march beside the last wagon. His spear and shield were mounted to iron hooks embedded in the side wall, easy to access quickly when needed but giving him a break from the burden of carrying them constantly.

"Your people must eat like kings, so much food!" Svarja exclaimed.

Isaac looked at the woman and raised an eyebrow. "Some do, when the weather was good, most make do with whatever they can afford."

"Eh? But look at these crops! This right here," she said, gesturing at the field beyond a knee-high stone wall to the side of the road, "could feed my entire village for a year."

"Much of the food that is grown in this region gets sold to the cities. The workers on the farms get enough to keep them productive, feeding them more than that cuts into profits. In the cities people buy what they can at whatever price the merchants set."

Svarja shook her head and muttered something in her language. "If we had crops like this, there would never be another raid again, everyone would be too fat to run and the boats would sink!" she said, chuckling to herself. Isaac smiled but said nothing.

"Ah! Your face can do something besides frown after all!" Svarja said, nudging Isaac with her elbow.

A few silent moments passed. "I can only imagine what these fields would look like with proper rain." Svarja said.

"It was definitely something to see, especially with the blessing of the Callers." Isaac replied. "Harvest time was always a joyful time, full of feasting and drinking and celebrations. That's when we ate well, when all the crops were off the fields. Then it was back to careful portions to ensure the stores lasted through the winter and we could send enough to the city."

"Did you live on a farm then?"

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"I did, until I joined the army at the age of fifteen."

"What made you leave a place like this for the hard life of a soldier?"

"Farming is no easy life, either. I didn't want to spend my entire life toiling for the owner of the land to take the fruit of my labor and give me back meager portions while he grew fat and rich. I watched my grandparents work until their bodies were too broken to leave their beds and my parents had to feed and clean them when they soiled themselves. I didn't want to spend my whole life with nothing to look forward to but endless work until I was too feeble to help myself."

"Ah, that does sound like a less than desirable life." Svarja replied.

A few moments of silence passed. The hot, still air was disturbed only by the creaking of wagon wheels and conversations between the other guards too distant to make out.

"Surely you have farms up north?" Isaac said. His tendency these days was to be quiet but he got the feeling Svarja wanted to keep talking.

"We do, but not like this!" the blonde woman exclaimed. "The soil where I come from is rocky and the growing season is much shorter. Each family tends smaller gardens, just enough to feed themselves. Larger fields and orchards are controlled by the Thanes, some is distributed to the common people during festivals, some is kept for their own use, and some is given as tribute to the Jarls and the high king."

Svarja was quite animated now, gesturing wildly with her right hand and even lifting her shield arm at times. "Life is hard in the north, nothing comes to us easy. The ground must be beaten into submission to give us grains and vegetables so we also do a lot of fishing and hunting. Always under the druids' guidance, mind you. They ensure we do not anger the land by working it harder than necessary. Once, my entire village had to pick up and move miles up the river at the command of a druid who said the land we lived on needed time to heal."

"Sounds like quite the inconvenience." Isaac replied.

"Oh, it was,” Svarja laughed and shook her head. “We didn’t have much but we still had to carry everything we owned for miles and build new homes, till the earth and replant the garden, learn new hunting grounds. It was tough that year but only a fool doesn’t heed the druids’ warnings.”

“Your druids don’t tame the earth for you?”

“No. I mean, they can, but they tend to listen to the land and guide us to adapt to it, rather than the other way around like with your Callers.”

“Life would probably be easier for you if they did command the earth to work for you.”

“It would be easier for a time, but this-” Svarja said, making a large circle with her arm to gesture at both the cloudless sky and the dusty earth, “is proof of what can go wrong when people try impose their will on nature, it is like trying to force a bear to do tricks like a dog, only a matter of time before you get mauled.”

“An interesting way to put it.”

“The land and sea has plenty for everyone if you’re willing to work for it and not be greedy. And whatever we can’t find up north we can always acquire from down south.”

“By raiding?”

“Trade!” Svarja exclaimed, playfully shoving Isaac with a laugh. “Furs and jewelry and artwork can fetch a decent price down south. And,” she said shrugging her shoulders and winking, “perhaps some people acquire things by other means to take home.”

“I spent most of my time in the army stopping such people from acquiring things.”

Svarja laughed and shoved Isaac again. “Oh yes, you southmen have ended many a warrior’s story early, given others chances to perform brave deeds to be written in the Book.”

Svarja sighed. “Of course, the days of raiding may be coming to an end.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, that,” she said, gesturing at the cannon mounted on the middle wagon, “and those,” she pointed at the two gunners seated in the wagon, “will probably put an end to raiding parties once more people have them.”

Isaac nodded solemnly. “Lots of things are coming to an end. These are strange times we live in."

Svarja agreed. The conversation ended after that, and Isaac walked in silence until the wagons reached the next stop.