Chapter 29: All Must Serve

Landar

The next few weeks went by in a flash.

Tomas and Elsbeth were constantly busy. Father with increasing patrols to protect the conscription personnel as they went through the city. He regularly came home brused and beaten, having fought off one riot or another.

Mother, with her volunteer work, stockpiling food, water, and basic medical supplies for the army as it prepared to march. Early on the conscription, people found out what she was doing and gave her and a few of the other women helping her exemption from conscription. Elsbeth already had it, but the women in our neighborhood largely didn’t. Their efforts were vital, as the Arch-Duke hadn’t had time to prepare provisions or stockpile supplies.

I spent my time split largely between foraging outside the city walls collecting firewood, food, and other materials our families would need for winter, and the temple libraries. I focused my studies on mental magic. Learning to augment the journal ability as deeply as I could. I had a vision for what I wanted, an ability to look at something and learn as much about it as possible. But I hadn’t yet reached that stage yet.

Though I visited the forge as many times as I could, trying to learn to use the runes the dwarves have gifted me, I had little success. The runes took easily enough to the metal physically, but I couldn’t figure out the trick to them. At least, not for a while.

The temple was so busy that I had practically free access to the smaller libraries, as well as the main library. Though I only went in there every once in a while, as it was a shared space with the Blue priesthood. Only once did I find Sigvald, surrounded by a few of the higher up priests in the main library, looking over some kind of spell and arguing over which one would be better for the nation as we went to war.

I listened carefully, and it appeared their disagreement largely revolved around weather augmentation or soil enrichment. A choice to either shorten winter, or enrich the soil now, so farmers could get in some form of harvest before they left. I wasn’t able to hear the conclusion to their debate, as the librarian shuffled me out the moment I had the books I was looking for.

About the time I started figuring out the finer points on the Ability I was crafting, my time in the forge eventually bore fruit.

I experimented on my hatchet several times, trying to inscribe the runes that the dwarves had left for me. I had, lets be charitable and call it mixed results. Several times I had to grind down a small portion of metal to remove a failed attempt. On the last day of the third week, however, I was successful in copying the runes.

The process involved using mana and specially made tools that the dwarves had only given me hints to making in their writings. I ended up crafting two tools. The first was a light working hammer for precise strikes with the smith’s help. The second was a chisel that was hardened and coated in a type of special black metal the smith called ‘black-steel’. Though according to him, it had no actual relation to steel.

It was expensive. Nearly an entire week’s wages from infusing the oil went into purchasing the material. Practically all of my credit with the smith was gone, as he helped me forge the tools. I even went into debt with him by a few dozen copper pieces to get his help to finish the chisel.

On day one, I had tried to use a mundane hammer and chisel to carve the runes. But the magic I had to imbue them with made the chisel melt, and the hammer’s head crack in half. The new tools were vital to the dwarven craft, it seemed.

Once I had the tools, though, it was nearly child’s play. The chisel took my mana almost like a glove fit my hand. And the hammer hit with almost inhuman precision. I carefully carved the three runes into the head of my hatchet in roughly the same location as my dwarven ax. One on the handle, and two above the first on the blade's head itself.

I copied the runes on both sides of the ax, again mirroring the dwarven work. When I was finished, I could feel my hatchet hum with the same type of power as the other, but quicker and sharper. If the dwarven ax was a steady drumbeat, this was a heartbeat of someone running the Boston Marathon. Quick, staccato, light but insistent.

When I tested the weapons on some trees during one of my scavenging excursions, they practically sang as I swung them through the air. I knew nothing about using two weapons at the same time, so I ended up thinking of the dwarven ax as being for self defense, and the hatchet as still being a tool.

Though I told myself that if I ever had the opportunity to learn how to use two weapons at once, I’d take it. But that just wasn’t something Uncle Sam ever bothered to teach grunts in the army.

That training was more, stab, step back, then shoot until the enemy stopped moving. I had also learned a fair bit of grappling and knife play. But, most of what I knew from my time in the army and as a contractor wasn’t super applicable to using two axes at the same time.

Still, I practiced with both the hatchet and the hand ax, making sure I was familiar with both weapons if I ever had to defend myself in the crazy beehive of activity that the city had become.

Tabitha helped Elsbeth as much as she could. Gathering materials, prepping basic medical supplies, and foodstuffs for the army as it finished assembling. But she spent more than half her time with Roland, learning magic, and trying to hurry the marriage along.

The Grey Priesthood, under Sigvold, had already given their blessing. Roland’s uncle had, as well as our parents. The only hold out as far as I could tell was Roland himself.

When she and I went to the temple together one sixth day, when Roland had a bit of free time, I overheard their conversation outside the library. After they had finished dropping me off there.

“I’m just worried that if I go, and. . . and don’t return, you’ll be looked at as a widow. You’ll have no protection, and it’ll be harder for you to find a match.”

His concerns made sense from a purely long-term standpoint.

“And you seem to misunderstand the level of danger I’m in now.” Tabitha was exasperated, but kept her voice down. “Your order is going away. Most of you, anyway. Your uncle isn’t as powerful in wartime as he was in peacetime. But if I’m both married to a gray priest, and. . . and I do . . . it. Then I’m sure I’ll be safe.”

Roland sighed deeply. “You don’t have to do it, you know. No matter how weak one of the priesthoods gets, none of the others would violate a marriage like that. They just wouldn’t.”

“I understand you think that. But. . . But I don’t trust them. Particularly the blue. They’re desperate right now. You heard what Sigvald said the other day.”

I had not heard what Sigvald had said, but perhaps it was time I started paying attention to temple politics as much as I had started to pay attention to the bigger picture.

“Yes, they’re desperate. Conscription in the other parts of the kingdom has practically gutted their order. But it’s not like that for them here.” Roland was clearly trying to dissuade her from doing something.

“That will make those here more desperate not to be relegated to a regional power—”

The argument continued for a while longer. I honestly did not know my sister had such a solid grasp of the motivations of institutions in the area. It impressed me. But it also made me understand why things hadn’t moved as quickly as my family had hoped.

Roland had legitimate concerns, but my sister was right. It was better in this situation to move quickly rather than to wait until after the war was over.

I contemplated what to do on our walk home that afternoon. We ended up needing to take the eastern road, and then the wall-road that mirrored the wall until we came to our neighborhood. The dwarven caravan was preparing to set out and had blocked our usual path.

I tried to spot any of the dwarves I had met in the crowd, but there were far more of them in the city than I had originally thought. And it was clear with the war looming, they wanted to get out of town as soon as possible.

“Elves ain’t no friend of ours. But we don’t go pocking their eyes out.” I heard one of the dwarven guards say to a human companion of his as we passed by. “You lot pick too many fights.”

When we came near the eastern gate, we found it was choked with new traffic.

“Should have taken the western road,” I said, and Tabitha agreed. It gave me the opportunity, however, to see what was going on in regard to the war preparations. Just outside the gate, a massive tent city nearly the size of the city itself had been erected as warriors from all across the duchy poured in.

The peasant conscripts trained and drilled in the streets, between the tents, and in open fields. There were thousands of them, and they would clearly make up the bulk of the forces being sent to the front. They had barely any gear, usually just a club and a spear. If they had armor, it was usually home made leather, or thick gambeson cloth.

This group was largely made up of the drudges, slaves, and the lowest of the peasant sub-classes. They also didn’t sleep in the tents. Most carried bed rolls and backpacks stuffed with the supplies they’d need on the march.

The second largest group of soldiers looked like professionals. Or at least semi-professional levies from the country estates. Farmers who had trained as archers or spearmen most of their lives. Part-time reservists who regularly trained to protect the duchy in case of any large-scale threat. They had quality mundane gear, usually a spear, a short bow or crossbow, and some kind of sword. Their armor was usually just a light chain shirt, and some kind of gambeson underneath for extra padding and protection. They looked and were clearly trained as skirmishers and screeners, scouts, and light horsemen.

Beside them were a rather large group of professional full-time soldiers who were heavily armed and armored. These usually carried an array of weapons, including a spear, javelin, short bow, a well-kept melee weapon, and usually had chain mail augmented with segmented plates in places.

Well trained, well armed, and well prepared.

I saw one man training several dozen peasant conscripts on how to properly stab with a spear. When one man didn’t like being yelled at by him, he took a swing at the warrior and connected hard.

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The soldier took it and laid the former drudge flat on his back. Several other members of the group decided it was a good chance to dog pile on the ruthless taskmaster. But he left them all out flat on their backs, one after the other.

In the end, half a dozen heavily muscled drudges lay panting or unconscious on the ground as their trainer yelled insults at them without so much as being winded.

Even this group of professional veterans was nothing compared to the knights, nobles, and clerics who stalked the tent city.

Even the professional warriors parted like water as those intimidating and uniqe precesses strode through the camp. These were being treated in some ways like special forces back on Earth. Non-standard gear was the norm with this group, each one equipped with a different and clearly highly magical set of arms and armor.

While we waited for a cart to move, Tabitha and I watched one cleric — a grizzled warrior with scars all across his face and half his nose missing — lift a crate filled with weapons that had taken three drudges to move, and place it on his shoulder as if it were only a sack of potatoes.

He simply hoisted the thing onto his shoulder and followed the drudges where they were going as easily as I might pick up a bushel of firewood.

“Woh,” Tabitah wispered.

“Yeah. Hate to be on that guy’s bad side.”

“Excuse me,” someone said from behind. I turned and found six people in grey clokes staring at me. The one who had spoken had his hood down and a friendly grandpa like face. “I’m looking for a Lord-Captain Harstad. Might you know where he can be located?”

I shook my head, and my sister forced me to bow. “No, my Lord. We were just passing through, trying to get home before nightfall.”

“Ah, so you’re civilians.” The old man said dismissively. “Sorry to bother you. You there.” He pointed towards the veteran soldier who had just finished putting down the mini-mutiny among his trainees. “Do you know where Lord-Captain Harstad is?”

The veteran saluted fist to heart in a crisp motion. “Lord-Collector. Captain Harstad should be at the gatehouse talking with Guard Captain Tal’dod, sir. Would you like an escort?”

“If you could please fetch him for me, I would be appreciative, Lieutenant.” The veteran officer saluted again, before running off towards the gatehouse without so much as a glance back towards the now quelled mutiny.

“Tala, please see to the drudges. We wouldn’t want the Lieutenant getting in trouble for following my orders.”

“Yes, Lord-Collector.” One of the hooded figures, clearly a woman by her voice, bowed slightly before heading over towards the still recovering mutineers. After a moment, a bright light covered the area with healing magic and the unconscious and injured conscripts found themselves whole again.

“What do you think will happen to them?” I asked absently. The cart in front of us still hadn’t moved, and the workers surrounding it couldn’t be interrupted to let us pass.

“What them?” The Lord-Collector asked, gesturing towards the now recovered drudges. They were standing in rows again, waiting for whatever punishment was coming their way when their trainer returned.

I nodded, curious.

“I suspect they’ll be run ragged the rest of the night. But that was already going to happen. No one expects discipline and good behavior from conscripted drudges on their third day of training. It’s why that lieutenant was selected to train them.” The old man winked at me. “There’s no hope of those rascals hurting him, even all in a group, and he was sleepwalking.”

“I apologize for my brother’s boldness, Lord-Collector.” Tabitha bowed again before pulling me back to stand beside her. “He still has much to learn about how to behave.”

“Oh, it’s no bother, child.” He made a gesture as if brushing away the interaction. Before taking Tabitha in fully. “Say, you look familiar. You’re the daughter of Captain Guadhaus at the southern gate, aren’t you?”

My sister forced me into a bow next to her own. “Yes, my lord. We have that honor.”

He nodded. “I know your father. Good man. He asked for my help the last few weeks in training. Said something about needing to perfect his foundation so he wouldn’t be shown up by his son.” The old man’s gaze fell on me again. “I suppose this bold one is him?”

“Yes, my lord. This is my little brother, who, until recently, was very ill.” Tabitha was keeping her gaze lowered, but I didn’t know why. This guy was clearly not bothered by us in the least.

“I see.”

I felt a wave of energy wash over my body as a bright blue light emanated from the Lord-Collector’s eyes. After a moment, the light and pressure from the energy disappeared. “I really do see. Perfect mental and spiritual foundations. The Gods have blessed you children, in more ways than you know. Your father’s request makes much more sense now.”

The feeling had been unpleasant. And I could tell he had used some kind of analysis or identification ability on me. One much more intrusive and brute force than the one Mother Margaret usually used.

Two can play at that game, I thought as I activated my mental construct and fed it mana. His body became highlighted in different colors, and the meaning of each became clear in my mind as my new and nascent Analyze ability activated.

There were two red spots on his body, highlighting his sword and a dagger at his belt. A light blue haze covered his entire body, and I somehow knew that meant his gear was enchanted with potent magic. But two other colors appeared in my vision that I didn’t expect.

Yellow glowed from his heart and his chest. It felt sickly and wrong. He had some kind of infection that needed healing. He might not even know about that, I thought.

Second was a deep royal purple around his brain. I knew through the information stream the ability was feeding me. It was a passive mental magic defense of some kind. If I tried to push the ability further into his mind, I’d be rebuffed and possibly face consequences. There was a lot of mana in that protection, enough to really hurt someone.

As quickly as the ability activated, it ended.

“How dare you, you brat!” one of the young men in the Lord-collectors group yelled. He stepped forward and my world was filled with stars. I came to on the ground, a tall blond-haired man standing over me between the Lord-Collector and me, his open palm raised as if to strike me again.

“Please, my lord!” Tabitha jumped over me, shielding me from another strike. “He’s just a boy.”

“That’s enough, son.” The old man hissed quietly, as the blond-haired knight gritted his teeth and backed away, pulling his hood back on.

After a moment, my world stopped spinning.

I put a hand to my forehead and found I was bleeding slightly from a gash that was surprisingly long above my eye. My instincts were to kill the blond-haired asshole, and my hand twitched down towards my hatchet. But before I could do something incredibly stupid and get myself killed, my sister hauled me to my feet.

“Thank you for your grace, my lords. He’s a child, and my parents will hear of this, incident.” The word incident was said with acid, and it was clear if she had the power she would have ripped the blond-haired jerk in half.

“My apologize for my son.” The old man sighed. “Let me see that cut, child.” My sister backed up slightly, and the Lord-Collector enveloped my skull in his hand. After a moment a light filled my vision and the pain disappeared.

“He is over eager in my protection.” He glared back at the blond-haired idiot who had already pulled back up his hood. “So much so that he would think I can’t defend myself against a sickly, half sized child.”

The half sized comment was unnecessary; I thought, but I bit my tongue. There was no reason to antagonize the man further.

“Still boy. Analyzing someone without their permission is rude. Though given how rare such abilities are, I can not fault you for your ignorance surrounding the etiquette of the use of such abilities.”

“And yet you did it to me and my sister without a second thought.” My voice didn’t waiver, but I could feel Tabitha flinch at my words.

He locked eyes with me for a moment before grinning and laughing. “I suppose you’re right, boy! Ha ha, even peasants have the right to dignity. I apologize for offending yours.” He held out a hand to us and my sister kissed the ring on his finger.

That was probably what he expected me to do, but instead I gripped his hand in a handshake with both of mine. It was my old ‘diplomat’ handshake I used on people who I needed to know I was being genuine.

“Its alright. Everyone makes mistakes.”

He met my eyes again, shocked again by my boldness. He released my hand and smiled. “Boy, if you don’t get yourself killed, you’ll be one hell of an adventurer some day. Your poor father. Might just give him a refund on that training. It’s almost a public service to make sure he can help raise you properly. As for you, young lady. Your father told me of your predicament. But it’s clear he doesn’t know how far along you have come in your studies of Faith magic. You should consider becoming a cleric. Gods know they could use someone with a bit of diplomacy in their ranks.”

Before either of us could respond, the Lieutenant returned, followed by a tall, well-dressed man with a sword at his hip and a cape that fell down towards his knees.

“Lord-Captain Harstad.” The old man bowed slightly, and the captain returned the gesture.

“Is something the matter, Lord-Collector?”

“Yes. I apologize for doing this in public, but there simply is no time for formalities and niceties. These issues need resolved immediately. There is a discrepancy in your latest rents from your out of city estates.”

“Oh? Do you have the paperwork? You can show me the mistake? I’ll be happy to correct it if it’s not a misunderstanding.”

“Of course.” The old man gestured, and one of the hooded figures brought out an enormous book and several scrolls. “These are what you reported on your latest tax report.”

“Yes, I see.”

“And here is what your accountant reported to the throne for that same period.”

“Ah. I see the discrepancy.” Captain Harstad looked troubled. “Did the emergency amendment not get filed?”

“What amendment?” The old man asked, and Harstad sighed deeply, looked around him and decided that whatever he was going to say he could say here.

“I’d prefer to say this in private, my Lord-Collector, as I do not wish to cause a panic among the small folk. But I understand the urgency. Three hovels, some hundred and fifty souls, died some four months ago. When my castellan went out to collect their offerings and see to their health and complaints, all he found were the bones of the dead. Picked clean where they had laid. In their beds, on the floor of the common house, and in rows as if they had been treating the ill.”

“So you’re claiming plague whipped out, what, four entire settlements in your domain?”

“Yes. We believe they died at different times, however. The current theory we’ve been working under is that the first and largest fell ill in the heart of winter. The last one seems to have been more recent. Having died at the very beginning of spring. My castellan was lucky he did not stumble upon them in the throes of the illness, else it might have spread.”

“I see. And your accountant was supposed to file an amendment with this information?”

“Yes, Lord-Collector.”

The old man picked up the paperwork and handed it back to one of the other cloaked people. “Be sure to have them bring me the amendment by the end of the day tomorrow so we can review it.”

“My Cousin Oswald handles these things for me. But he’s in the guard and taking on extra duty at the moment. I’ll contact another accountant.”

“Wait. Oswald at the southern gate?” I asked, and I felt my sister’s fingernails dig into my shoulder like daggers. I winced, but I kept my eyes on the two nobles.

The Lord-Collector smiled and shook his head. But the Lord-Captain smiled at the mention of his cousin. “Yes. Do you know him, peasant?”

“Yes, my lord. He works with my father, and taught me my letters and numbers. He’s a good man of high character and quality. If he didn’t get the amendment in, in time, there must be a good reason.”

“Well, that is an endorsement if I ever heard one before.” The old man said, still fighting back a smirk. He turned back to the Lord-Captain. “By the end of tomorrow, please. Else we’ll have to conduct a full audit of your estates in person.”

Harstad bowed, and the Tax Collectors left, seemingly disappearing among the crowd of people heading away from the east gate. Harstad took me in as I stood there. “You’re a brave one, even for the son of a guardsman. But know this child, the tree that does not bend in the wind, will snap.” He smiled, before himself disappearing back towards the gatehouse.

A pain erupted in my ear. “Ow!”

“Do you know how close we came to having both of us beheaded?!” my sister hissed into the very ear she was pinching. “Stop being so disrespectful to nobles, or you’ll get yourself, or worse, anyone standing near you killed.”

“Ow, ow, ow! Alright, alright, I’ll do better!” She released my ear and grabbed my arm before pushing her way through the workers. She had had enough, and the workers made way despite the slight disruption in their rhythm off-loading the cart.

“Come on. I have news for the family.”

“Good news or bad?”

She thought about her response as she dragged me through the street towards’ home. “Both, I think.”