Chapter 19

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What I like about Eskenland is its size. We drove thirty minutes to Kusthiv, drove around the sleepy, gradually waking town, talked to the rare locals, and after making sure that none of them had seen their baron in three weeks, we drove back.

The morning walk in the cold was refreshing, and the sandwiches Magda had put in the car on the way back made me feel a little lukewarm. I was ordered to stand on a hill from which I could see the harbor, the castle roofs, and the rising sun, and I got out of the car, leaving my sword behind, and sat down on a rock to look out over the gray-blue sea, feeling the stress of the night drain away.

That's a good joke they played on us! What am I going to do about it? And I have to somehow extinguish the people's anger that I snapped at them for nothing: now the townspeople will start looking for someone to blame so as not to be the one to take the rap for it. They say he tortured an elderly person for the sake of his status. A tyrant. They did everything right, according to the law, but I, of course, had to act fairly.

So we have to think about what to do "smartly".

Elil coughed behind me, holding out a thermos of coffee. The spear was under his arm, and the shield on the cart he'd slipped into the boot. Smartass had shown recently that he could make good on any punishment - the shield now showed my semi-legal coat of arms, an open grave with a black tombstone against a scarlet background. So unfolding it with the coat of arms forward, the squire on the other side unfolded the rag with the advertisement. A new one each time. I don't know who advised him to do this, Izja or Egilbert, but if it was necessary to scold someone, Smartass would get it again.

In the meantime, I pretended not to notice anything. The bosses are so inconsiderate, yeah.

"Sir Baron? What are we going to do next?"

Judging by the shadows behind me, all the squires were now lined up in a semicircle.

"What do you suggest?"

I hadn't smoked since I was a kid, but now I suddenly felt like it. Not to inhale smoke, but to twirl the pack in my hands, stretch a cigarette, gazing wisely and thoughtfully at the sea horizon in the distance. It's supposed to be at times like this.

"Shall we look for the bastard?"

I hummed. Yeah, you'll find him now.

"We'll fulfill our obligations under the siege treaty. Ewald certainly has nothing to do with it. Then I'll have lunch with the castle guests. Then I'll pay a visit to the town for an inspection. I haven't been seen there for a couple of days now. It's time. Lots to do today."

"So we're not even kicking this scum?!"

"Marty, our dear combat and very hot buddy - what can we charge him with?" I didn't turn around, but I could see the girl's menacing squint, as well as the other henchmen's snide smiles. "He was taking advantage of the situation, a loophole in the laws, for some sort of advantage of his own. A classic intrigue, where the victim is forced to work for the villain voluntarily, by circumstance."

"What was he trying to achieve with this?" Norman, the most rational of the squires, was not asking me but rather with me.

"A good question. And any good question has an answer. Let's look for it in these words - "what", "he", "with this" and "wanted to achieve". I wasn't talking for them, and I wasn't talking for Fisk, who was listening at the machines. I had to say out loud all the things I had been thinking about during the night.

"What - if I hadn't fulfilled my, so to speak, legitimate duty as the eldest of the barons, that status could be called into question. I don't mind. Ancient customs aren't always reasonable, but someone really needed it right now. He - the main villain is Elig von Kusthiv, a young man of thirty-two, who hardly ever appears in the barony. What he does in life is unknown. Only there is talk that he matches the family name and even managed to serve time somewhere for criminality. If he had dragged the girl to the hayloft, I would understand. If he had tried to take something by force, it would also be understandable. But this sharp-looking lad had the money for a retinue of foolish but tough fellows, and he knew ancient customs from somewhere."

"That's not him!"

"That's right, Alex. So he was working for a third party. Moving on from "with this" to what, exactly? Attempt on old man Miller's life? By questioning any of my rights? The very fact of using an ancient custom? Or something as yet unknown to us? It's not clear. "Wanted to achieve" what? What I would do is clear, Miller is, after all, my man, and I would try to get him out. But I would be breaking an ancient custom, which means... someone needs the legitimacy of doing something to change my status." I am silent. "And only our esteemed local historian von Schnitze can explain what is going on." I took my phone out of my pocket, remembered with a grunt that I had switched it off for the night, and clicked it. Nine missed calls! Trying to call Ewald didn't work either. His phone was silent. "Something had happened to him. To the castle! To the cars!" The squires were racing ahead of me.

At the entrance to the castle, I was surprised to see Von Welleschwarm's men getting into cars and waving goodbye to us. I decided to check the matter along with the others, so I passed the townspeople who wanted to say something to the squires, saying that the young men would collect all the complaints, and then we would work, and I rushed to the donjon myself. Von Schnitze Junior was already running towards me.

"Eggie, where's Dad?"

"He left half an hour ago. Along with Herr von Welleschwarm, they didn't ca..."

"I know! Why was the siege stopped?"

"They didn't. Some people came in three buses and replaced the previous siege squad. I tried to find out something, but nobody knows anything. Orders came in to change the line-up and they carried them out. And, Sir Baron..."

"What?"

"You must see it."

I decided to watch from the gate tower. When we returned, the besiegers had not detained us in any way, doing something in their camp, but now in just a minute, there were barriers posted at the end of the street and next to the gate, several patrols strolling by. And in each of them was a man with a crossbow!

So far we had not used any throwing weapons, except the blatantly sham "stones" thrown at the heads of the besiegers, but that seemed to be about to change. Of course, there were modern weapons in the city, and my police officers were not supposed to be unarmed, and Ewald had the same trained men in his unit, but the agreement was strict - as long as we had medieval laws, the weapons had to fit. I had no idea that anyone would even take bows for a siege; there were no bloodthirsty fools in our guards, the backbone of the Welshwarriors were all men who protected or saved other lives, and I had romantically inclined youths eager for close-quarters combat; bows were seen as tourist attractions, but not as weapons.

Now I could see at least a dozen crossbowmen downstairs. I couldn't argue with the age. Standing there, watching, ready for anything, sorry for nothing. And what's interesting is that of the seven gunmen, four of them are wearing the same high boots as Ellie Custhive, who was now locked in his cell.

So this is just the beginning of trouble. A continuation, to be exact. What's next?

As if my thoughts were heard, there was movement downstairs and a group of lancers with three archers surrounded a man in a plain grey suit who was walking towards us.

"He arrived on one of the buses and brought the order."

"Thank you, Eggie. Put the squires in their armor and come this way. Let's meet the guests, I think they're going to talk about something."

Ten minutes later, Noman and Alex were helping each other to put the iron on, while Dan tried to find out from the tower what they wanted from us. In vain, the enemy leader demanded to speak to me personally, and no one else would satisfy him. Well...

"Open the gate!"

A bridge had been thrown over the moat in front of the gate. Egilbert kept complaining to me about the cost of repairing the lifting mechanism. The plan was to rebuild it in thirteen years, and the old man wanted it done sooner rather than later, so he was itching for me to get the missing money from somewhere. However, the sturdy bridge with its massive railings, though not rising, made a good negotiating point: I had a failing gate at my back which could be slammed shut in a moment, and my opponent had a long uphill lane which put him in an awkward position for an attack. No way to hide the ambush party, no way to escape if anything. All right, let's get started:

"Who are you and where is my noble opponent?"

The leader in grey stepped forward, stopped five paces away from me and bowed briefly to introduce himself:

"Leser. Friedrich Leser."

"Not Otto Schreiber's colleague by any chance?"

"How did you guess that?"

"True villains always work as a team. So, what did you want to say?"

"In the absence of Herr von Welleschwarm, I command the siege."

"And?"

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't just come for that, did you?"

Lesser smiled. The way an enthusiastic executioner smiles at a well-recorded victim... or a taxman smiles at a citizen who has come to justify himself.

"Yes. Having carefully reviewed the agreement you and Mr von Welleschwarm made, I found no point in fulfilling it."

"What do you mean you "found no point"? You didn't make the deal, so you can't cancel it."

"I have a different opinion. All this extravaganza is a waste of my client's resources. So I'm going to end the hopeless enterprise."

"Have you decided to surrender?"

"On the contrary, I suggest you do so."

"That's something I'm not going to do. Strong walls, brave fighters - it would be foolish to agree to surrender."

"For nothing. As far as I know, your manager has dispatched most of the men, so your available force at the moment is ten or fifteen?"

"By the way, if I decree that all those who join me are exempt from taxes, half of your soldiers will defect to me on the same day. And the rest the next day, after they've burned down your headquarters."

"Oh, I am aware of your methods. I'm afraid they won't work in this case. My squad is made up of people who will need some kind of advice and help once they join the Federation. I'm capable of giving it to them. Only me. Everything is perfectly legal and beneficial to all parties to the treaty, so they won't betray it."

I looked at him skeptically. There must have been some humanity left in the official's soul, so he averted his eyes and blushed a little.

"Nevertheless, bloodshed is not in my plans, so I suggest you surrender. I promise good treatment, decent conditions, and release in a fortnight."

"The answer is no. I could surrender to old Ewald. He's a man of honor but to you? No way."

"In that case, in thirty minutes we will begin!" Fritz turned on the spot and staggered away. Prussian blood was obvious. You could see the mercenaries marching at random, as long as they did not drag their weapons along the ground. It is nothing, the Russians have always beaten Prussians, and the Romanian baron will smash them into mush.

"Close the gate!"

Without turning around, I walked into the courtyard, climbed up the wall, and looked carefully at what was going on below. They were getting ready to set something on fire. At least some of the jerry cans had been taken out of the car. Damn, how convenient for the locals: give them an order, and they'd be gone. Ours would've stayed to gawk, or done overtime on their own for the fun of it. We could have turned them over, but these guys... They got the order to burn, they'll burn. And shoot. And I have really eighteen boys and girls, plus four old men, plus myself. We could run, of course, but I reckon that would somehow benefit my main enemy. Yeah, should I give the order to boil the tar? Although we don't have any tar... we could melt down a collection of Von Schnitze records.

"Baron-san?"

"What, Sato?"

"What will the appointments be today?"

Oh yes, I'm sending them out to "internships" at this time.

"Check the armor and weapons. Sato, with me, stay close by. Smartass and Norman to the courtyard to help Eggie. Dan and Alex are in reserve, so you can rest for now."

"And me?"

"You?" I glanced at Marty. The martial buddy frowned as she waited for me to mock her again. Well, it's a sin to disrespect someone else's expectations: "So you're willing to give in to the guys on anything?"

"I'm not inferior in any way!"

"Great. You peel potatoes in the kitchen until tonight."

"For what?!"

"For bickering."

"But I'm not bickering!"

"And after the potatoes, you'll be scrubbing pots and pans." That's what Katzman, who had already come up, said. "Because the squire's correct answer to his lord is to be done, Your Grace."

I put my palm up, Izya gives me a high five.

"Squire Marty, we're not playing games here. If you're sent to the kitchen, it's necessary!"

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"What to do there? Today the Welshwarmers wouldn't even let a food truck through for tourists, and there's only half a sack of potatoes! What are we going to eat tomorrow if these assholes start laying siege in earnest?"

"To hell with it, we'll slaughter a cow, enough for a week. We'll have some fresh meat at the same time. My favorite childhood treats are haematogen and homemade sausages!"

"Haemato-gen..." Smartass quickly clicked his PDA, peered at the result, hiccupped, and asked again: "Home-made sausage, eh? How did you make it?"

I, wearing the collar they had brought, explained at length and tastefully to the city's youth how a pig was first slaughtered, butchered, blood drained, intestines cleaned, minced, and sausage made. The squires slowly changed color from their customary piggy-pink through blue to green.

City kids, what do they know about delicious and healthy food? In my childhood, there were epidemics of pseudoscientific beliefs like "it's bad to eat eggs from spotted chickens" when a product was suddenly considered very, very bad, and a child was given it with caution. The mother was frightened by the terrible bacteria that crawl out of the fridge at night and scratch at the bedroom door, and the result is that the son has a lifelong conviction that the real delicacies are by-products and homemade sausages.

I was amid a gastronomic fantasy, and I pointed out that it was time for some breakfast or even lunch. The boys who had taken the hint scattered, the girl, muttering angrily under her breath, walked away, looking around, and Sato politely stepped back. The Gascon, on the other hand, moved closer, peering sideways at me and behind the wall.

"Katzman, fun is fun, but I think the jokes are over. They're going to shoot here, and they're going to shoot at us. What, you don't want to give up your position?"

The chief of the guards, who at this point was curling his fingers and counting the crossbowmen in preparation, wiped his forehead nervously and answered in a sudden, clear-cut voice:

"You know what I'll tell you, Sir Baron? My Gascon mother may curse me if I die here, but the ancestors who slaughtered the Canaanites will understand their descendant! I'm staying!" He swallowed suddenly, quickly crossed himself, and added, "though, I am a little scared, Alexander Nikolayevich. Maybe...?"

Maybe

"Izya, get both cannons ready to fire!"

"I am not an artilleryman!"

"Didn't you ever do any homemade stuff when you were a kid? It's no more complicated than that. Go for it!"

"But we don't have any gunpowder at the moment! The supplier won't bring a new one until this evening!"

"Izya, so that in twenty minutes, the cannons are loaded and standing in front of the gate!"

"Yes, Sir Baron! Oy-wey, why do I always have such bosses?"

Who's to say why I have such subordinates?

"Sato, report on the castle."

The Japanese bowed and began to deliver the news.

Strangely enough, nothing about the events of that night has yet to reach outside the city walls. It would seem that a lot of people were involved, everyone had relatives, and everyone wanted to tell, to share, but no, not a word! However, I think a lot is going on in the world that we are not even aware of. Small towns on the outskirts of the world are not so sleepy and serene.

More interestingly, someone on my behalf canceled all the tourist excursions. This was done just as I was foolishly running off to spill the guts to an unknown enemy. At the same time, busloads of mercenaries appeared at various exits out of town - they were probably meant to hold me up if Egelbert had reached me - and only when he and Von Velleschwarm had left the castle did the vehicles move in.

I didn't listen any further. So far, everything was going exactly according to notes - and it wasn't me who had the lead. Sadly. I was still in danger of taking part in the bloodbath, as I had been pushed to do many times before. Somebody wants trouble in Eskenland... I've already figured out who. Yesterday I was not sure, but now I understand. All that remains is to understand why. Something I don't know, some local trick known only to connoisseurs. And only one of them was taken from under my nose, along with a possible ally. Elepar must be sleeping it off after last night... I pulled out the phone and tried to call - it was disconnected.

"Get the head of the guard here, quick!"

Sato raced down the stairs, and I glanced down once more. The gasoline and crossbows were now joined by large, stubby metal shields for two people. Prepared, bitches. You can't do that quickly. So what do we do with you? No, what to do is clear, but then what?

I was only distracted by the indignant noise behind me:

"No gunpowder, Your Grace! N-o! Provide me passage beyond the wall and thirty minutes - all will fire non-stop, as I hate to say where, at whom, and in what place! Alles! Non, nicht, no! And even if there was, where can I find you a gunner in five minutes? It's his day off!" The Gascon was prepared for me to start accusing him in some way, and so he defended himself in advance by attacking. "I am a professional, of course, and I can get anything, but how can I get it if my hands are tied? And guns without gunpowder don't shoot!"

"Hush, hush... That's not what I'm talking about. I'll never believe in my life that they haven't contacted you. I think it's time for a betrayal." And I pointed my finger at the guns, then nodded, pointing somewhere behind the wall. Katzman looked back, rubbed his chin, and shrugged:

"Do you think so, Sir Baron?"

"I sense it. Don't get it cheap!"

"It's an insult!" Pulling out his phone as he went, the Gascon hurried off somewhere with the most mysterious look.

"Does Mr. Hachimoto really intend to betray you? Or is this a military trick?" Sato looked after Katzman, who was already whispering something into his phone, squinting his eyes and putting his hand on his sword.

"Maybe he really is. Only, you see, it doesn't matter which side he's on. No matter what he does, you have to be able to turn it to your advantage. That's the moment I've been waiting for. Well, if our Brave Mustachioed Man can save some for his old age, that's fine with me."

"I noticed his mustache had come off... a little."

https://youtu.be/VCCv7V01ZEo

"Sato! It's not appropriate to hint at people's little shortcomings! Maybe poor Izya has been dreaming of a posh Zaporozhe-style mustache all his life. It's not his fault he got two strands of hair from his parents, is it?"

"I beg your pardon!" There you go. He is bowing again.

"Find all the squires. Bring Fisk. We won't wait for a siege. It benefits the enemy."

"Shall we attack?"

"You'll find out. Run!"

After seeing him off, I first leaned back, then slid down the wall and sat down right on the rocks. The sky is blue, there are birds, and there is some working noise in the city. Here, the horn is from the harbor. We have a siege here, we are preparing to fight, to shed blood, and there people live peacefully and do not care about our squabbles... By the way, why don't I call in the knights? But we shouldn't. Either we will win on our own, or the enemy will reach some of his goals.

"Gravsteins! We, the subjects of Baron von Welleschwarm, invite you to surrender! We promise everyone good treatment, hot food, and respect for all rights! You cannot win! We are outnumbered, but we don't want bloodshed!" A mechanical voice from behind the wall made me a jerk, and I looked out: a police megaphone, placed on the roof of one of the cars, was broadcasting; the besiegers were bustling about, gathering around a familiar figure and listening to something.

Yeah, so Katzman's already made a deal. Then it's time to get started. It's almost lunchtime, and I haven't had anything to eat! Where the hell are those squires?!

Cranking myself up to make my intonation more angry, I quickly stood up, leaned over the wall, and shouted:

"Hey, down there! Negotiations! We need to talk! Thirty minutes in front of the gate!"

The megaphone quacked and whistled, then Leser's voice rang out:

"Ten minutes and not one more! Attempts to resist will be firmly prevented!"

"Fifteen!"

"Ten!"

I waited a moment as if pondering, and then agreed:

"Ten! Go to the gate!"

Again there was a squawk, a whistle, and an apparently dictated voice on the recorder just as lifelessly continued:

"... attitude, hot food, and respect for all rights! You can't win..."

Well, we'll see about that.

Quickly giving my orders, I made my way to the exit of the donjon, where my main hope of victory stood. The cannons were, as von Schnitze had explained, Napoleonic, old, the polished bronze glowing dully and menacingly. And the caliber was such that my fist would fit. They were supposed to have other carriages, but these, with their big wheels and almost modern-looking wheels, made them look more imposing. Fisk and I, with some foul language, pulled first one and then the other out, setting them side by side and aiming for the gate. When I looked around I found five of the lads beside me, laughing as if they hadn't been in front of a fight.

"What's the fun, young people?"

"Finally found out who was studying for what. We've got the full set here - there's the warrior dwarf, I mean Dan is a metalworker, there's the forest archer Alex is from Woodville and has won prizes at school, Robert is a barbarian gent with a long sword, there's even the squad healer Norman! And Marty is just the quintessential witch! A descendant witch of Chaos! And I'm a sage wizard!"

"Mmm... a normal team. And what?"

The youth looked at me with a "what did you expect from him?" look, but as soon as I opened my mouth, someone shouted demandingly from outside the gate.

"Get ready!"

"Yes sir!"

Norman stood by the right cannon with a smoldering cord as the most responsible, Fisk by the left.

I stood in the middle, with my hands on the barrels. I had to stretch out a little for the sake of the spectacular posture, but what could I do? Finally, Sato waved his hand from the tower, and I ordered:

"Open the gate!"

The gate opened slowly for a long time. The opening was marked by the cheerful faces of the kusthiv men and by the satisfied look on Leser's face as he was supposed to be standing in the front. He saw the guns as they came in but smiled. The flaps slammed against the walls, and the victorious procession entered the castle courtyard.

"Attention, I suggest that everyone drop their weapons and surrender! Otherwise, we will open fire. The cannons are loaded with buckshot!"

The cheerful laughter in response was a little disconcerting. We're in the middle of an important moment, and all anyone does is laugh!

"Unfortunately, Mr. Mogila, we know for a fact that you have no gunpowder." Leser took a couple of steps forward. "You have lost! I'm prepared to accept your surrender... Isn't that why you called me here?" The smiling official half turned to his warriors, and they eagerly cheered him on.

"Not really. I just wanted to show you this. - With a swipe of my foot, I sent a tin of grey powder scattering its tail along the way. "Gunpowder. It's good for these babies as well as some pretty simple hand bombs. Look up." The mercenaries raised their heads as if on cue. Men appeared at most of the windows, holding bottles and cans in one hand and lighters in the other. A whistle blew from the wall, and there stood Dan and Alex, clutching bottles with wicks already lit.

"Just because you have been told something, Mr. Leser, does not mean you have been told the truth. However, the claim that if we shoot now, you will be nothing but mincemeat on the walls, you can believe." I paused for a moment, then commanded. Stand against the wall, and prepare the documents for registration of the status of prisoners of war. If you do not comply, I will feed you with nonexistent powder and make you drink gasoline! Do it!"

The mercenaries, glancing now at the commander, then at the cannons, at the walls, at the tin that had stopped just beside them, began to place their swords and crossbows on the ground in a disciplined manner. A few servants in armor and with ropes came running out of the open door of the dungeon.

"All right, lads. Don't relax just yet, but..."

Marty, stepping out from behind the door, suddenly grinned, waving her hand. A knife flew past my temple, and a thud was heard. I turned sharply, trying to draw my saber. With a snap, an arrow flew past the other temple...

Damn!

The mercenary fell flat, dropping his unloaded crossbow.

"A-aa-ah..."

The girl stood with her hands over her mouth in horror. I had to take a few steps towards the prisoners standing with their hands up and take a closer look.

"All right. You threw the hilt forward. But you hit it right in the center of the forehead. Sato, write Marty a candy bar for saving me and two days of practice on the small target."

I had to ignore the heartbreaking sobbing behind me, keeping my warrior mask on, and not reveal myself - my throat was dry. Damn, I owed that girl a lot! Not sure about the cuirass, but the chainmail on my back would have been punctured.

"I think it's the kind of thing that demands a reward."

"Oh, you'll give the girl a bonus?"

Katzman, who had disappeared into thin air for the duration of the fight, was already hanging around with the most businesslike of looks.

"No. I'll let her leave work half an hour early today."

"Where to go, there are enemies everywhere?!"

"Yes? Well, then he'll stay in the castle."

He nodded in agreement, then picked up a pinch of gunpowder from the ground and sniffed it.

"Aleksandr Nikolayevich, where did we get this? I know for a fact that there was nothing, don't I?"

"Izya, if the bosses don't have personal savings, they are shitty bosses."

"Then why not just throw grenades at them?!"

"Because if the employees think that the management has everything, they are shitty employees. One tin can left, and it's half-empty."

"You mean grenades?"

"With the purest Eskenland air."

Outside the gate, a recorded howl of "Surrender! We guarantee..." was already annoying, although I liked the irony of the situation - the callers were already being tied up and taken to the cells. The real ones, not the tourist ones. Only Leser I ordered to be locked up with Schreiber. The man wanted revenge for a colleague? Let's have a "Two-Taxman-Two" in the castle. A duet to complain to the tourists...

"Young people! Shut up, that talker!"

I waited for someone to run off to turn it off, but the squires suddenly piled on the wheels of the cannon carriage, rolling the gun into the gate. After a minute, there was first a loud "Bang!", then an equally loud "Hurrah!", before everything finally went silent. I didn't disturb them. Let them have fun. Even my hands were shaking, and those of the young ones...

I looked at the car, which was already smoking, and decided that the boys had to be kept busy! However, the squires did not see my displeasure, discussing the gunshot with joy. Young people, all they want is noise and fun!

It was strange that I had not ordered the cannon to be loaded. There was only a tin of gunpowder left, I know, and it would have been useless if the attackers had scattered. And a buckshot round at point-blank range... that's a little overkill. But somebody loaded them, didn't they?

"Fisk, where are you?! Get over here now!"

"Here, Sir Baron!"

"Why were the cannons loaded?"

"So the head guard didn't make it in time, and Sato gave me the order. Is something wrong?"

"That's it."

I imagined him, thinking I had given the order, firing buckshot at the crowded enemy... and shivering again. How many times must I tell you, no joking or reticence with the Eskenlanders! That's a very obliging nature of theirs. Shouldn't he be ordered to do something really unbelievable? Yeah, they'll do it, and then I'll have to deal with it. I've been told war is a faintly predictable thing, but this much?

All right, we got rid of these. Now we have to... What?

"Eggie, call the barons, find out..."

"Already, Your Grace. Nobody's phones are answering."

Slowly exhaling, I, already knowing the answer, asked:

"Is everything OK in Eskenborg? Are the phones working there?"

Five minutes later, it turned out that the second and main castle, where the elections were to be held traditionally, was also silent. The police station there could have been brought up to speed, but something told me that this option was also taken into account.

"Let's pack up!" I've already dialed Sir Ulfric's number. He must know how to deal with the likely capture of all the barons. It's his job description.

"I hear you, Sir Baron."

"Sir Ulfric, I have bad news for you." Quickly recounting everything that has happened since my departure, I suddenly heard:

"Sorry I won't be able to help you."

"You won't?"

"Yes, since it's that bad, I'm needed here in town."

For a few seconds, I tried dumbly to understand what he was saying, but I pulled myself together and asked again:

"So you're not coming?"

"No, I told you - there are more important things to do."

"What if I ask the mayor?"

"I'll call him now too. We will be very busy in the next hour and won't be able to help you."

I was quiet, absorbing the news. So good knights. So loyal vassals!

"So I have to go there and save everyone alone?"

Ulfric answered instantly:

"That would be very helpful. Forgive me, Baron, urgent business. I think Sir Erryn and I can manage soon, but who knows? But you go, really, whatever's going on out there."

Without saying goodbye, I switched off and suppressed the urge to smash the phone against the wall. God knows what. These were normal people. I tell him bluntly that someone is plotting a coup and seizure of power, that we should go and rescue our own, and he says "business, sorry"!

Ugh, what a day! Well, God be their judge, maybe there really is something more important... but what the hell? They're used to being conquered all the time, so they don't bother!

"Sir Baron, I'm ready!"

"You're not going, Marty." I hadn't turned around yet, but the answer rolled off my tongue.

"Because I'm a girl?" There was no familiar emotion in her voice, just a sad stubbornness.

"Because..." I have to think of something. I don't want to take a girl into battle. Fighting is no place for them. Fighting and dying are for men, but how do I explain that to her? "It's going to be hard work."

"I can help!"

"You will help, just... just not there and not like that." Silently, I turned to Sato and yanked his sword from its sheath. "On your knees!"

The girl, momentarily pale, suddenly looked around, then fearfully stepped forward and dropped to her knees. Damn, she's small... She's so small, though she's energetic.

"I, Baron Alexander Mogila von Gravstein, having been convinced on the battlefield of your courage and readiness to defend your comrades-in-arms, hereby knight you. Arise, Dame Marty Adams!" Smartass and Norman stepped forward, gently lifting the first of their company of knights to her knees, jaw sunk and eyes wide. Yes, it's sudden for me too. I can think of no other way. "I ask and demand the service - I am entrusting you to guard the castle. In case of emergency, we must have a place to retreat to, you see what's going on. Now get to work, all of you, quickly!"

"Alexander! Sir Baron, I'm with you!"

"No. I need someone in the castle."

"Mr. Isabel can do it!"

"Half the servants are sure he betrayed us."

"I can fight too! Leave one of the squires behind!"

"Marty, can you single-handedly roll a cannon or move my shield? They can. No one's questioning your authority amongst the servants, though."

Behind him, someone added, in a low voice, something like "There are no fools".

"By the way, what are we standing around for? Get the cannon hitched to the car, quick! And bring my mace!" Sometimes it's better to break arms and legs than to chop off a head... just to make them suffer longer.

Three minutes later, the doors slammed together. Marty stood lost on the porch, I nodded at her to say it was okay, and then the car started.

"Sir Baron, why do we need a cannon?"

I wanted someone to explain to me why we were so busy attaching a bicentennial weapon to a modern Mercedes, but I only uttered it with the most confident intonation:

"You'll see. Let's go!"

* * *

In cultural news, there are local festivals in the north of the Federation with the usual cheerfulness and good-naturedness that are ready to welcome neighbors and tourists.

Lots of great entertainment, scenic views, and friendly locals await your visit!

from an article in Nuheter Politiken Zeitung