CHAPTER 4

Lucan strode into the study after his father. Thomas, their steward, was already waiting for them, a few scrolled parchments held in his hands. He was busy arranging them along with others that were on the table beside the map.

Sir Golan walked around the table to his chair but didn’t sit down. He gestured for Lucan to join him and he obeyed.

The map spread on the table was that of the small piece of land the King had bestowed upon his father. This was what he was expected to inherit someday if he was knighted, Elders willing, though the king could take that hope away if he wasn’t of enough merit for knighthood. Unlike a Lord’s fief, theirs came with conditions that had to be met. That along with his father’s ceaseless talk of duty and responsibility, and the burden of continuing upon his achievements had always been sources of anxiety for Lucan.

It didn’t help that he knew things could change when the king’s heir took the throne. It was no secret that the king was well beyond an ordinary man’s years. And an heir could decide to put more effort into the isolated royal territories in the southeast, part of which was their fief and several others.

Thomas spread open some of the scrolled parchments, which he realized were the deeds to the land and its borders.

Lucan scrutinized the map and tried to match it to what he’d seen since he’d been a child. What people here called a river or, sometimes, a stream cut from the northwest of the map to the southeast. Lucan knew from his favorite reads of history, that this had in truth been a canal dug by the old Empire from the Elder Lake to the east to ease farming and trade. The latter purpose was no longer viable as sediment precipitated along the body of water, forming mud islands sometimes and gathering around ancient debris at times.

Before the canal could get far from the northwest of the map, it split into a fork, its main branch continuing on its merry way down to the southeast, cutting between their bailey and the farmland. It then meandered on its path until it reached the eastern forest which it cradled into a crook before flowing off the map. The other branch spread from the main canal directly to the east, cutting through the sparse northern forest, then rubbing against the northern hills and veering down to the southeast to cut into the eastern forest, where it ended in quite the odd–and certainly unnatural–lake.

A road mirrored the main branch of the canal all the way to the southeast of the map, only branching once to lead south toward House Arden’s lands, cutting through the hills known for their vineyards. Wine was perhaps the Ardens’ most important of trade goods, though it was one of the worst wines Lucan had ever had the misfortune of tasting. To be fair, It wasn’t meant to be drunk by nobility but rather to be the cheapest in the markets. House Arden produced it in abundance, and it kept them afloat as they strived to protect the southern border.

Villages dotted the southern bank of the main branch of the canal, opposite the rocky expanse their motte-and-bailey was built upon. The small settlement had been raised with packed earth through the hard labor of hundreds of people. His father had picked a slightly depressed piece of land to raise it on, allowing them to connect it with the canal and let a natural moat form. A small outlet had been dug to displace the old water and the refuse that was sometimes thrown into the moat.

His father pointed at the western edge of the map, far from the canal and the road. “Tell me, where do our borders end to the west?

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“Our borders on this side end right before the forest and the mountains south of it,” Lucan said.

“Yes, as is written here.” His father’s hand tapped one of the parchments that Thomas had placed on the table.

Then the knight’s forefinger traced an undrawn line that separated their lands and the forest, and he continued to extend that line between their lands and the mountains south of the forest. “The stream that flows from the mountains leads to this lake.” He traced the stream to the large salt lake east of the forest.

Lucan knew that his father had been struggling with it for the past two years. He’d been trying to extract its salt to use and sell, which could provide them with a rich bounty. Unfortunately, the lake itself was a patch of lowland that was surrounded by a circular and rocky hill, so much so that it had looked like a hole in the ground when Lucan had first seen it. Flattening a reasonable stretch of land around it to form salt pans would take an unreasonable amount of labor. Likewise, relying on firewood to manually dry the salt water would be too steep of an expense, since they’d have to pull the water out of the lake and load the firewood from the eastern forest. Lucan had once suggested extracting wood from the western forest, but his father had refused the idea as it would encroach upon royal territory. Falling out of royal favor for what could be construed as greed would be a tragedy, Lucan had understood.

The southern woods belonged in their entirety to House Arden which had no reason to be generous with them. Though their interests had recently been hinged on the presence of the landed knights who’d been supporting their border duties. His father had left to fend off Wildermen raids on several occasions when Lucan had been but a child.

Lucan returned his attention to the map where his father had just finished talking of what he already knew about their borders with House Arden.

His father’s hand moved to the southeast of the map, glancing at him inquiringly.

“This road cuts through the lands of Sir Osmond Wolfe, Sir Alfred Upton, and lastly Sir Emerson Ryder,” Lucan said. They were like his father, landed knights sworn to the king. Thankfully, their relationships were cordial. His father had led him on to visit their lands during his younger years.

Next was the northeast. His father pointed beyond the northern branch of the canal and said, “And there?”

“In that direction is Sir Ward’s estate,” Lucan said

“Yes, and as you know, he is not a very welcoming man.”

Lucan nodded again. The Ward estate was old, unlike theirs and their other neighboring knights. The current Sir Ward was of the fourth generation to hold the land. They had been landed when the Kingdom in the east had shattered and before the formation of the Union which now ruled over half of its former lands. They took their border duties seriously even in the presence of the much more stable Union, and they considered the newly landed knights lesser in station. The one time Lucan had visited the main House Zesh fief, the sitting Lord Zesh had mentioned that the Wards might be elevated to lords soon.

His father moved on to the north next and waited for him to answer the unspoken question.

“Beyond the northern forest is the High Road, and a strip of land that belongs to the King.” Lucan noted something in the parchment that Thomas spread open as he answered. “But this here doesn’t specify whether the forest is out of our bounds, Father.”

“Indeed,” his father said. “Though there isn’t much benefit to it. The land is too dangerous for logging, let alone anything else, as you well know.” He gave him a knowing look.

Lucan flushed and avoided his father’s eyes. Three years ago, he’d broken his arm on his first and only wild venture into the forest alone. He had been, embarrassingly, looking for an adventure, one like those annotated in some dubious historical accounts. He’d ended up tumbling down the steep forested incline. That’s when he’d learned that the forested land north of them was extremely uneven and terribly dangerous even if there were no abhorrent beasts inhabiting it.

“We must speak of what’s expected of you now,” his father said. “If you are to one day carry my torch.” He picked one of the larger parchments on the table and spread it open.

Lucan prepared himself for another lecture on duty and responsibility. There always was an abundance of those.