"Well, Sir Hoss, how does the armor feel? I selected it especially for you."

The blackened steel armor had been worn by some ancestor of Pinchpenny's and the set of chain and plate armor had languished in the treasure room for centuries. Its enchantments resized the set to the new owner, and the weight was only a few pounds, yet protected like the finest dwarven steel.

"It fits like a glove, sir like it's part of me. But are you sure about making me a knight? I doubt anyone, including me, thinks I deserve it. I've got no training, and I'm lowborn to boot."

Baron Pinchpenny smiled to himself. He was certain Hoss was correct, that no one else would think he should be made a knight. They had rules, after all, making it difficult for the lowborn to gain even a toehold into the nobility. "It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks, Sir Hoss. I think you deserve to be a knight. You've helped me through a difficult adjustment period, seen to my special needs, and served me loyally. For that, you deserve the honor. The armor is a gift for saving my life, yet again. How many assassins has it been this month? 3 or 4?"

"Six, sir. Two of them I caught while they were scaling the walls with grapple hooks, and cutting the ropes was easy. And the last was a little, sneaky guy. His neck snapped as soon as I grabbed him. I didn't want to cause a fuss and disturb your rest, so I tossed the body out the window. The gardener finds the bodies and tosses them into his compost pile. Waste not, want not."

"Well, good to see them contributing somehow in their deaths. And how are you and the sword getting along?" The sword was on Hoss's back and never far from him. If he didn't put it next to his bed at night, it was laying next to him in the morning, which caused problems with anyone else trying to sleep in the same bed.

"We get along better now, sir. Came to an understanding. She's a lot better at swordplay than I am, so she's in charge during a fight, but she's quit trying to rule my life the rest of the time. It was a little odd at times. My vision goes red, and she's yelling, 'kill, kill, kill,' and I'm only trying to talk to the cook about the dinner menu. We've worked out a schedule and keep to it, and the assassins help a lot. She's just a growing girl and needs her meals. But she's learning to behave."

Pinchpenny smiled again. He wouldn't tell the young man how often that sword had broken those who tried to wield it. Once again, Hoss had risen to the occasion and surprised him. "Well then, if you're ready to go, let us visit our neighbors and allies."

"I'll prepare your carriage, sir, and bring my warhorse. He needs a workout."

"Good, good. Your horse, and maybe your sword as well, will get some exercise."

When the Baron had first expressed a desire to travel, some weeks ago, Hoss had put the few competent craftsmen in the castle to work repairing the dilapidated carriage and harness. They replaced so much of the carriage that it was difficult to say if it was still the same one. Meanwhile, Hoss searched for a team of horses and bought four from the Legion outpost after negotiating. Along with nearly every other job, Hoss was now in charge of finances. Knowing he didn't have a head for numbers, he hired a scribe who did. The man and he got along fine after Hoss gave him an almost decent salary and the promise of a painful death if he cheated him. Hoss would go down to one of the treasure rooms, take out the gold he needed, and turn it over to the scribe. He'd also decided that better relations with the Legion were necessary since nearly all the castle guards were gone. In exchange for a thousand gold coins to use for repairs to the barracks and stables, along with a rent reduction to 1 copper coin per month, the Centurion in charge agreed to staff the castle with guards. The arrangement worked for both he and the Centurion, and the Baron was fine with it, having other things to do now besides squeezing copper pieces until they screamed.

So today, on a somewhat sunny but cold day at the start of winter, Hoss rode along beside the freshly painted and repaired carriage pulled by four black horses as they went to visit the large farm complex a half-day journey down the broken road. It would have normally been only a drive of two hours, but traveling on the area beside the roadbed took more time. In his mind, he questioned who was getting hurt by the bad road. It was true that travel to Gadobhra was slower now, and trade with Northguard had always been meager, owing to the Baron and his taxes, but Hoss wondered if come spring, maybe the Baron would see things a bit differently. It was something to think about during a four-hour ride through the countryside.

As they approached the lands the Baron had ceded to this 'corporation' to build farms that would replace the peasant villages the Baron had been so annoyed with, Hoss called a halt and dismounted to talk to his Baron.

"Something the matter, Sir Hoss?"

Nothing I can put my finger on, but doesn't this place look big to you? Like, really big?" The Baron looked out the window of his coach, noting the long rows of buildings. He'd have assumed from the size they were barns, but there were windows on each of the three levels. Housing of some sort? And why so much for peasants? Chimneys sprouted along the rooftops, indicating many hearths. Beyond these were the actual barns, dozens of them built in long rows, each with a silo for animal fodder. Fields stretched out forever."

"Good eye, Hoss. This is indeed 'Really Big' and far more than I could have imagined. And so orderly. Tell me, what bothers you about it?"

"Well, I'm no farmer, but it seems like this place grows a lot of meat and grain. But when they bring the monthly tithe to us, we don't see even one part of a hundred of what this place can produce. This hardpacked dirt road looks like it goes around the farm and heads off to run next to the South road. They're shipping a lot more South than North, if you know what I mean. And I can see twenty wagons over by that big barn being loaded up. I sort of doubt they are heading North."

"Yes, it does seem like our business partner may need to explain a bit to us. Let us go see what they have to say."

The carriage moved on, and Huck could feel the sword on his back becoming hopeful as they approached a much larger, more ornate building. Hoss didn't think it was much of a castle; maybe the head people lived here under one roof like the peasants lived in the other buildings? Many people were working here, and he was acutely aware that it was just him, the driver, and the Baron in a possible confrontation. But the Baron also knew that, so Hoss quit worrying about it. As they approached the main building and the carriage slowed, three people came outside to greet them. One was obviously a bodyguard, dressed in chain armor with a broadsword at his side and his shield already on his arm, and a second had the unmistakable look of a scribe with ink-stained hands.

The third person was dressed as a noble but poorly. Like many nobles far from the capital, he wore a mix of fashions that were completely out of style, some of them by decades. Some happy merchant had probably unloaded his junk chest onto the man, convincing him he looked dashing.

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"Hiya, we met before, right? I'm Reggie from Alchemarx, the head guy here. Just passing through, or were you hoping for a tour of the place? Pretty busy right now, getting ready for winter, but let me show you around our HQ and rustle up some snacks." He stuck out his hand, which the Baron did not take or acknowledge. Instead, Hoss watched as the man he used to think of as weak and slothful showed his true strength. The temperature dropped, and the sun moved behind a cloud, casting the area in shadow.

"I have not time for pleasantries, Reggie of the house of Alchemarx. I have come for the months of tithe you failed to send. I have come for my large butterfly specimen. And I would have you show me the proof that you have ousted Baron William from his seat of power. Show these to me now."

Reggie seemed unfazed while his bodyguard tensed and the scribe quaked in terror. "Whoa, whoa. Slow down. We're working on that list; don't worry about it at all. Alchemarx has three junior vice presidents working on getting your butterfly and taking down Billy from ACME. I bet we get a messenger any day now. And I'm sure we sent some tithes your way, just as we agreed. Why don't we do this? You head back to your castle, and I'll send my accountant up to go over the bookkeeping, and I'll toss in two more grain wagons as a bonus. The vice presidents will meet you there and bring your butterfly and the proof they've dealt with Rowan Keep. That's all going down today, and we can meet up tomorrow."

Hoss gave him credit. He was talking faster than any flim-flam hedge wizard with a wagon of fake potions who had ever come through town. His voice carried into the building, where several more people had been arming themselves. They walked up behind Reggie, striking poses and glaring. Reggie must have felt quite sure of himself at that moment.

The Baron yawned, "Pardon me, I must be tired from such a long journey. But as to your proposal, I think not."

"I, Baron Pinchpenny, Protector of the Northern Plains of Grultain, Sovereign of Northguard, and last of my line, declare Alchemarx Acquisitions to be in default of their contract and in rebellion against their liege lord. You will all leave my lands by nightfall. Your goods, lands, and buildings belong to me as they came from my land. Your peasants also belong to me, as they replace those you hounded from my lands. You may leave now. Run fast, and you may escape my wrath."

Reggie looked at his two dozen men-at-arms and back at Baron Pinchpenny. "Not happening. These are Alchemarx lands, and they're under my control. Have your lawyer talk to our lawyers. That contract is solid. Dead solid. So good luck with breaking it."

No one saw Hoss move. One second, Reggie's head was on his shoulders, and the next, it wasn't; as the sword screamed through a wide arc, severed his neck, and left his headless body to sink to the ground.

As everyone stared at the rolling head, Sire Hoss said, "Sharp tongue loses to a sharp sword."

The next second, the new Knight took two steps and swung again, killing two men-at-arms and the bodyguard as the sword cut through all three like a sharp knife through soft cheese. As the rest of the soldiers and mercenaries yelled and converged on Hoss, the Baron raised a hand and said a word.

"Die."

And they did, like puppets with their strings cut. Bodies fell to the ground, fading as the life was sucked out of them.

Hoss whistled in appreciation. The sword was disappointed and angry, but the fight was over, and she honored their bargain and let him stay in control. The Baron, however, took an unsteady step backward and leaned against the carriage. Hoss hurried to him, concerned.

"Are you ill, sir? Should I get your tonics?" He was already pulling a satchel out of the carriage and handed a large bottle to the Baron, who drank it down.

"Thank you, Hoss. Those people...they aren't real! They have no souls to drain. I expended too much of my power and received little in return." All of the bodies but two faded away, leaving headstones to mark where they fell.

Hoss handed him a second bottle. "Those players we hear about. They'll pop back up at some point. They must hide their souls someplace else."

The Baron stood. "An astute point, Sir Hoss. I have ways of dealing with the Unsouled, and next time I will be prepared. For today, why don't you ride over and convince those peasants to hitch up those wagons they've loaded along with any others? I want them headed back to Northguard with us. Find someone and put him in charge. We're taking as much north as possible before winter sets in. And once the snow clears, I'll want monthly shipments in the spring.

"I'll go see to it, Your Excellency."

The Baron watched as the competent young man rode off, contemplating the new fields and buildings he had just acquired. On the ground were two bodies. One was the scribe, and another was a man in ragged leather armor with a spear. After a few minutes and a mana potion, Pinchpenny had enough for a spell, and the two rose to serve him. "Give me your names, and tell me what you wish to do now with your second chance."

" Jonas ...Barlowe? Uh...the numbers...balance the books, and keep track of it all...my job...."

"Urhuh? hungry eat hungry..."

The baron sighed; one out of two wasn't bad, and the poor fellow might have spoken that way while alive. He cut the string and let the body fall. "Exactly right. You work for me and will continue to do the accounting. Feel free to kill anyone that cheats me." The scribe shuffled off to his desk to get to work. An hour later, Hoss rode back, and behind him were thirty-seven wagons of goods. They were piled high with boxes and barrels of goods that would have fetched a good price.

"All ready to go, sir. I have a hundred folks coming with us, just regular peasants. Alchemarx didn't run off all the peasants, these they put to work here on their farms. I figure we can house them for the winter at Northguard, and I'll put them to work on the castle. There's a lot of cleaning and repairs that need to be done. I'll shift them back to here or or start a new village at Northguard after I skim off the best to work at the castle."

"An excellent plan, Sir Hoss. What do you plan to do with this large farm?"

"Keep doing what they were doing before, sir. Those workers that are left are here for five years and work for Alchemarx, but they don't know what will happen now that we have taken our land back. So I told them just to keep working. They'll prepare the fields for spring, tend to the animals, and cut timber for new buildings and charcoal. I'll be back to check on them in a couple of days. Those Players can walk back from death awfully fast. I may have to kill Mr. Reggie a few more times until he gets the message."

"A sound plan, Sir Hoss. Make it so."