Chapter 5

They spent another day visiting people around the city while preparations were made for the journey to Lloyds Prefecture. That extra day in the city saved them several days’ worth of time, however, as their return to the east would consist of a brief sea journey along the northern coast of the Holy Kingdom.

Neia, her escort, and their horses joined a group of Nobles with five hundred men aboard a pair of galleons marked for the amended route servicing the conservative lands in the north. The Duke, of course, hadn’t come with them. Appointed to represent the faction in his stead was Lugo, the second son of House Agrela, who was the dark-haired nobleman who had first challenged the efficacy of Neia’s forces and promoted the more assertive approach to the problems near Lloyds. Naturally, he also served as the de facto leader of the men who came with them, which included four other scions from the south. Lugo and his fellow noblemen spent most of the journey apart from her until their destination appeared on the horizon.

“I never liked sailing against the current,” he said as he joined Neia on the starboard rail. “It almost feels as if the fishermen are mocking us as we creep by.”

“It’s still faster than going overland, Lord Lugo,” Neia replied. “I’m grateful to Duke Debonei for lending us some ships.”

She gripped the railing, resisting the urge to shift uncomfortably at the long silence that followed. Had she said something wrong? Unless they were famed artists or local leaders, city folk like Neia usually didn’t have interactions with rural aristocrats. She wasn’t quite sure how to conduct herself around them beyond being as polite as possible.

Additionally, she had a feeling that the noblemen didn’t particularly fancy speaking with her. In fact, Lord Lugo spent more time speaking to her company of ranchers. The combination of being a footsoldier with the fact that she was a woman probably didn’t do her any favours.

“Do you think the local administrators will give us any trouble?” She asked as the pier drew close.

“If you mean the ones on our side, problems shouldn’t arise so long as there aren’t any misunderstandings. If you mean the royalists, most definitely. The question is how they will enact their retaliation.”

Neia was already well aware of how the royalists did things, so the question was more for the former. She knew that she should probably give the conservatives the benefit of the doubt when it came to their conduct, but the cultures and traditions of the rural elite didn’t make much sense to her in the first place as someone from the city.

A group of riders bearing an unfamiliar banner arrived at the wharf while Neia’s ship was being secured at its moorings. The nobleman and his retainers dismounted and awaited them at the end of the pier. He made his greetings to Lord Lugo, but not before giving Neia a queer look.

“Welcome to Bast, Lord Lugo,” he said. “You’ll forgive our surprise at seeing a pair of unscheduled galleons sail into port.”

“Duke Debonei sends his regards, Lord Aston,” Lord Lugo replied. “Along with five companies of armsmen to assist against any attempts at mischief by the royalist menace.”

“I see. We were wondering how the loss of Lloyds would be handled. We’re making our stand here, then?”

“More than that. The royalists will receive none of the fruits of our efforts if it can be helped. An extra galleon has been allocated to the northern coast to divert goods to Rimun.”

Lord Aston’s gaze went to the massive galleons moored at the town’s piers. Each had the cargo capacity of a thousand horse-drawn wagons and could cover the distance to Rimun in a fraction of the time. It was more than enough to see to all the logistical needs of the northwestern coast and the needs of Neia’s people conveniently helped to fill the holds for the inbound trip. The imposition that she imagined her request for supplies might be turned out to be none whatsoever, but Duke Debonei held no qualms whatsoever using her misconceptions as a bargaining chip.

“Our new friends in Lloyds won’t like this at all,” Lord Aston said. “The people in our territories are already starting to feel the bite of the royalists’ tactics, however, so I’m sure we’ll have no problems convincing them to deliver their goods here, instead. I suppose we should set aside space for new storage lots in preparation. Hopefully, our trade partners won’t mind the logistical disruptions while we sort things out.”

“Rimun has already anticipated the potential shortfalls,” Lord Lugo said, “so you’ll have no worries about that.”

The other nobleman nodded.

“Then it seems that the Duke has everything covered. Speaking of which, who might this masked individual be?”

“I believe you may know her as the ‘Faceless One’,” Lord Lugo gestured loosely in Neia’s direction.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Aston,” Neia bobbed her head.

The sound of the wind and the waves filled the silence between them as Lord Aston’s scrutinising gaze ran over Neia.

“So this is the fellow who took over Lousa’s operations…I never imagined the ‘Faceless One’ would be a woman.”

“I didn’t ‘take over’,” Neia bristled. “Mister Lousa’s entire family was killed, as was almost all of the senior management of his hacienda. I ended up with the responsibility of leadership as a result.”

“Of course,” Lord Aston said. “I meant no offence, Faceless One.”

“Just Neia is fine.”

They moved out of the path of the pier as horses and cargo started coming off of the ships. Neia did her best not to stare as the goods piled up along the wharf. If it was Hoburns, desperate people looking for work would already be swarming the area.

“How long will it take to move this cargo?” Neia asked.

“That’s a good question,” Lord Aston answered. “We also lack the storage capacity, so we’ll just have to clear a yard and throw tarps over everything while we load the ships. Are supplies for your men included in this shipment?”

“Yes,” Neia said, “but we just renegotiated our trade agreement with Rimun, so I still have to inform my people of the changes. It might be three or four days until they start arriving to cart everything off.”

“Hmm…I’m worried about how the region will handle the shift,” Lord Aston said. “Shall we discuss this over lunch? I’ve already sent some men to arrange for transport to the manor. Bast only has two inns so we’ll have to camp your companies around the manor grounds for now. Also, I must ask your men to refrain from straining the region’s supplies until the economy has had time to adjust to their presence.”

“Of course,” Lord Lugo said. “We’ve brought everything that we’ll need for the next week with us. Another five companies will be arriving within the next week, as well.”

“…does the Duke expect a war to break out?”

“Not quite. We can save that discussion for when we arrive at your manor. The details are lengthy and grim.”

While they waited for their transportation to arrive, Neia got together with Saye, Carlos, Mister Moro and Mrs Diaz.

“Should I go ahead to Hacienda Santiago, Miss Baraja?” Carlos asked.

“Take two squads with you,” Neia answered with a nod. “The rest will escort the extra wagons we’ll need to lease from the locals. Also, I’m worried about road conditions. We won’t be able to use the highway out of Lloyds and It looks like it just rained.”

The northern coast of the Holy Kingdom was lined with low ranges of mountains and hills which absorbed the brunt of the inclement weather coming from the north. Conditions could be treacherous as one followed the roads that linked the logging villages in the temperate rainforest.

“Will do,” Carlos said. “Don’t get yourself into trouble without us, ya hear?”

With that, the rancher ‘captain’ turned away and whistled up two of his ‘sergeants’. Neia waved and smiled as they rode off. Once they disappeared behind the nearest set of buildings, she turned her attention to Mister Moro.

“Do you have any information about the Sorcerer King Rescue Corps around Lloyds?”

“Keeping track of our members outside of Rimun Prefecture has been difficult,” Mister Moro replied, “but I can’t imagine that they’d be difficult to identify now that we’re here in person.”

Neia scanned the buildings facing the waterfront, looking for any particularly wealthy establishments. Her followers weren’t very gaudy when it came to their operations, however, so she couldn’t tell at a glance.

“Shall I attempt to locate them, Miss Baraja?” Mister Moro asked.

“That would take forever without help,” Neia said.

“I hardly think we need to chase our members around,” Mrs Diaz said. “If people know that you’re around, they’d probably just pop up on their own.”

That’s probably true…

When she was minding her own business, members of the Corps usually didn’t bother her. Now that she was actively attempting to spread the word of His Majesty’s greatness, however, they made themselves known once they realised what she was up to.

“We need to prioritise the people who are suffering under the oppression of the royalists,” Neia said. “I’m not sure how we can safely reach them, though…”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Saye said, “so long as the people we send don’t do anything conspicuous. It’s not like local authorities instantly know who every stranger is just by looking at them. It’ll be especially easy to get people from Lloyds and royalist-controlled towns. Once they find out there’s work to be had here, they’ll come running over.”

“Won’t that warn the royalists about what’s happening?”

“Maybe if people get questioned about why they’re leaving. The summer grain harvests should be starting soon, though, so that probably won’t happen. The royalists would have to notice what’s going on in the middle of all those people moving around. It’s more likely they’ll find out what we’re doing here when they realise half of their expected imports have gone missing.”

She was probably right, but Neia didn’t want to get any of her people in trouble if she could help it.

“What will we need if our members come to join us?” Neia asked.

“It shouldn’t be much different from when we operated as an organisation during the war,” Mister Moro said. “However, without knowing the situation of the people in this prefecture, I hesitate to predict the financial burdens that might come with such an undertaking.”

“I’d still hate to leave them hanging if they need us,” Neia said. “Can we prepare something just in case things take a turn for the worse?”

“I’ll see what can be done, Miss Baraja. The Nobles will undoubtedly spend at least the rest of today discussing the missive from Rimun, so I’ll take the opportunity to find out what I can about the Corps in Bast.”

“Thanks, Mister Moro.”

Mister Moro nodded and went on his way. The aforementioned transport arrived fifteen minutes later, consisting of a modest carriage which was kept in good condition, another carriage that looked a bit beaten up, and a small line of wagons.

Lord Aston entreated his fellow scions to join him on the first carriage while Neia, Saye, and Mrs Diaz boarded the second. The companies loaded their baggage onto the wagons and accompanied the caravan on foot. Onlookers lined the streets of the town as they passed, but, as with Rimun, the locals neither looked desperate nor fearful of the irregular event. She wondered how many members of the Sorcerer King Rescue Corps could be found amongst them.

“You need money,” Saye suddenly spoke up.

“I know.”

Neia sighed. The contents of her purse still only contained the remains of her parents’ allowance.

“That’s not what I meant,” the Bard told her. “I can tell that you don’t want to finance your efforts by asking your followers for support.”

Neia turned her gaze from the carriage window to look at the girl sitting across from her.

“It wouldn’t be right to ask,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s their money!” Neia cringed at the very thought, “They earned it through their own hard work. I have no right to take it from them.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“But isn’t their success due to you sharing the Sorcerer King’s wisdom?”

“I just talked. Anyone can talk. If I didn’t do it, someone else would have.”

Hundreds of thousands of people had personally witnessed His Majesty’s greatness, so that was surely the truth. That someone could so shamelessly take credit for the Sorcerer King’s wisdom was a vile thought.

“So,” Saye pointed to the Corps emblem on Mrs Diaz’s collar, “that pin; the supplies required to train your people; all of the functions and events that the Sorcerer King Rescue Corps held: who paid for everything?”

“That’s…erm, the equipment and supplies for our people came from the army because we were fighting as a part of the army at the time. Mister Moro figured out the pins, but I told him that, whatever he did, donations and the like shouldn’t affect the standing of people in the Corps. As for the events, we had supporters organising everything.”

“…you know all of those things cost money, right? Requisitioning supplies from the army might have been an option during the war, but it isn’t now. If you want to continue doing that stuff, you’re going to have to pay for it.”

“Urgh…”

Even if she said so, it didn’t feel right.

“Besides,” Saye said, “you’re a ‘moral philosophy’ right? Buddhist temples, monasteries, and wandering monks all accept donations for their services.”

“We don’t offer any services,” Neia said. “We don’t have priests or anything!”

They did things a little bit differently and it produced better results than usual, but it wasn’t as if what they did was so radically different that one had to undergo mystical training or take special classes. In all of the places that she visited in Rimun, the Sorcerer King’s wisdom had simply been applied to workplace culture and the benefits of that culture were felt by everyone that partook in it. If anything, it was all of the successful business owners that promoted the Sorcerer King’s wisdom that should benefit from their activities, and they did.

“I guess we’ll have to talk to Mister Moro about it,” Saye said.

“Wh-why are we dragging Mister Moro into this?”

“Because it seems like he has the most experience with managing your organisation. He probably already has plenty of ideas for you to pick from.”

Pick from? Mister Moro isn’t a boutique.

After following the road along a towering forest of Black Hemlock for several kilometres, they arrived at the manor of Bast’s former Count. As with every other southern nobleman, Lord Aston had ‘naturally’ assumed the former ruler’s seat upon being assigned the surrounding lands to manage.

The manor itself was walled and could rightly be called a castle, albeit a modest wooden one. Neia disembarked and smiled as she breathed in the sharp air of the forested hills. She always felt that she was at her best in such surroundings.

“Faceless One,” a footman called out to her. “Your men may camp in the eastern meadow below the road. Accommodations have been made ready in the manor for you and your attendants.”

She nodded to her men and watched them trot back out of the castle gate. Several other footmen came by to carry her baggage and Mrs Diaz followed them into the manor. Neia and Saye went over to join the scions, who were remarking over the walls and towers around them.

“It will be impossible for the royalists to advance past this place without taking it first.”

“Yes, well, that’s exactly why this castle was built here, is it not?”

“No,” Lord Lugo said, “I believe this place was built to counter unchecked Demihuman incursions. The town is still the keystone of our defence.”

“Just so, Lord Lugo,” Lord Aston nodded. “If it comes down to a conflict with the royalists, the sea is the key. Whoever manages to blockade the other side successfully will obtain an insurmountable logistical and economic advantage over the other. Unfortunately, we have no justification to impound the royalist ships connecting Lloyds to the rest of the country. They could already be building up their forces for all we know.”

It seemed that they hadn’t deployed proper scouts, much like the royalists that had tried to enter Mister Lousa’s land. In a normal situation, they could rely on Merchants for information, but the conservatives’ current strategy would preclude that once it came into effect.

“Lord Aston,” Neia said, “have you posted sentries along your eastern borders?”

“We were discussing just that along the way here, Neia. Hmm, calling you by that name feels terribly awkward. The only person I call by their first name is my wife.”

“We usually call her Miss Baraja,” Lord Lugo said.

Lord Aston repeated her name several times, narrowing his sea-green eyes.

“Baraja…Baraja…as in Pavel Baraja?”

“He was my father,” Neia replied.

“I see. Could it be that you’ve inherited his prowess? That would be a wonder to see.”

“Ah, I’m nowhere near my father’s level. You were saying something about sentries...?”

“Yes,” Lord Aston nodded, “Lord Lugo here mentioned that your men would be patrolling the border for us.”

“Hah?”

“Effectively patrolling the border,” Lord Lugo said. “Since using the highway from Lloyds isn’t an option for Los Ganaderos any longer, you’ll be transporting your supplies using the rural roads. Those roads are unpaved, so, to save on wear and tear, we should split your supply convoy into three different ones. Doing so will also have the effect of patrolling the territories along the way if you have outriders for your caravans.”

Just how many men are they expecting me to field?

She said that she could provide two thousand if required, but she had only meant for the short term if fighting broke out. Those same men were working as ranchers and patrolling their own lands, after all.

“Didn’t you want to test my forces before they were deployed, Lord Lugo?” Neia asked.

“I already have.”

“You have?”

The young lord smiled slightly.

“Combat is not the only method of testing the quality of men,” he told her. “According to the members of your company, none have been on a sea journey before. Despite this, their mounts were perfectly well-mannered for the entire trip from Rimun. It speaks of the bond between mount and rider – one that cannot so simply be fabricated. Also, from my discussions with them, your men also appear to know their business.”

“I see.”

That probably explained why he spent so much time with the ranchers. He hadn’t been purposely avoiding her: that was just something she had decided on her own. Men – especially noblemen – simply loved talking about horses and hunting and all sorts of violent things.

“So these ‘patrols’ you’re expecting,” Neia said. “They’re to consist of each convoy’s regular escorts, right?”

“That will be more than enough for now,” Lord Lugo told her. “It’s not as if an army can sneak by them if they come by three times a day. As promised, our men will take care of things in the towns and villages, so worrying about small-scale infiltration will be our concern.”

They had already discussed this in Rimun, so why was she acting so surprised? Neia suspected that she knew the answer, however. Between her experience in the war and what had happened after it, she still couldn’t bring herself to trust the southern nobility. It was as if she expected that something twisted would inevitably result from her interactions with them.

Duke Debonei’s faction has dealt with me honestly so far. Why do I have to be like this?

She was wasting her worry for nothing and the resulting sense of guilt gnawed away at her. Maybe she could learn a thing or two about putting bad things behind her from Saye.

A young man with the appearance of a butler appeared to announce that lunch would be served within the hour. Neia and Saye went to their room, finding that Mrs Diaz had drawn baths for them and prepared changes of clothing.

“You’re a lifesaver, Mrs Diaz,” Neia said.

“I just boiled some water, Miss Baraja,” Mrs Diaz laughed. “You’ve always had that way of making little things seem like a big deal.”

“We need to work on that,” Saye said. “You can’t interact with these scions the way you are right now.”

“What do you mean?” Neia asked.

“It’s like you’re speaking to them from way below,” the Bard answered, “and it’s weirding them out.”

“…I don’t get it.”

The sound of water sloshing on the other side of the divider was followed by the sound of a thorough scrubbing.

“These guys aren’t lord lords,” Saye told her. “They’re mostly second and third sons around your age. As a prominent leader, you’re at least around the same standing. I wouldn’t be surprised if they think you’re above them in this situation. But you talk to them as if you’re an ant.”

“An ant?”

“Something like that. You’re always apologising or thanking people for things that you shouldn’t be. It’s always as if you’re doing something wrong or waiting for permission to speak or act. You’re acting like a commoner from the city: you keep your head down and try not to offend the powerful and wealthy. These scions we’re working with will see and understand why you’re doing it, but it’s bound to get annoying at some point.”

Neia stepped into her own tub, frowning at the amount of dirt that had gotten under her fingernails. How could that happen when she was just a passenger on a boat?

“I thought Nobles expected that.”

“They don’t even talk to their tenants like that. Not unless they’re complete jerks.”

“They don’t?”

“In city terms,” Saye told her, “a tenant in a fief is like a minor business partner with some extra obligations depending on their contract. Do small business owners in Hoburns act the way you do to the Merchant Guild or big customers?”

“Not unless they want something…”

Whenever Neia encountered Nobles on her patrols for the Holy Order, they always seemed high-handed and aggressive. Then again, they only came to her when reporting legal infractions. Maybe Saye had a point – if what she said was true, then Neia would consider her own behaviour around the Nobles pretty slimy.

“Then how should I behave?” She asked.

“They’re all boys around your age,” Saye answered. “It’s fine to be a bit accommodating, but there’s no need to act as if there are giant walls between you. They have things that they’re good at and things that they’re proud of, then there will be things that they expect you to know more than them about. Just don’t do anything that wounds their pride or might be seen as an attack against their families.”

“You make Nobles sound pretty normal…”

“It’s not as if they’re Heteromorphs,” Saye said. “Their boundaries are just a bit different from everyone else’s. Oh, and don’t sleep with any of them – that’s bound to cause problems.”

“Wh-what do you think I am?!”

“A fifteen-year-old girl,” Neia could almost hear Saye rolling her eyes. “You’re going to be surrounded by young men. You might not even realise that you’re flirting, but what you don’t realise you’re doing will still give them ideas. And if someone you fancy is even a bit nice to you, that might give you ideas. Then, all those ideas carry you off somewhere stupid and that will undermine your standing with everyone.”

“Undermine my standing? That doesn’t make any sense! Why would my standing have anything to do with my…my…my…”

“That’s just how it works. It doesn’t have to make sense to you. Wait, does that mean you’re aiming for one of those guys? I know they’re all handsome noblemen, but–”

“No!”

An oppressive wave of suspicion rolled over the divider. Neia hurriedly scrubbed herself clean and left the bath. Why was an eleven-year-old lecturing an adult woman about men? She couldn’t even argue because Saye probably had way more experience than her and bringing that up would be awkward. If Neia’s father even got the slightest hint of her being interested in someone, he would threaten to snipe him from the rooftops.

When they went to rejoin the noblemen for lunch, they found Lord Aston alone in the hall. He seemed surprised at their appearance.

“Is something the matter, Lord Aston?” Neia asked.

“Erm, no,” Lord Aston answered. “I’m accustomed to women taking…longer.”

“Ah,” Neia laughed weakly. “A habit from military life, I guess. There was always too much to do and not enough time.”

Was that normal enough? She went to sit beside Lord Aston, though she wasn’t sure whether she was supposed to. Saye went to take the performer’s chair. She didn’t look like she was going to eat her, so there probably wasn’t a problem. They waited in silence as members of the manor household came in and out of the hall for one thing or another.

“Did you bring your staff with you?” Neia asked.

“No,” Lord Aston answered, “they’re members of the former lord’s household that returned after the war. The story is much the same across the north, unfortunately. Jaldabaoth’s forces eliminated the leadership at every opportunity.”

“At first,” Neia said, “we only thought it was happening with the Royal Army’s Commanders, but the resistance’s logistics were so messed up that we eventually realised that it had to be more than that.”

“A truly demonic method of waging war,” Lord Aston shook his head. “Leaving people lost and directionless; undermining one’s will and tempting them into making immoral decisions; forcing captives to commit all manner of depraved acts…I’ve heard many stories about it since I arrived here. The Fiends were not content with destroying our country: they wanted to corrupt its very soul. Even now, there are so many wounds that fester and many more that reopen at just the slightest touch. We don’t have enough people to help defend against the onslaught of the past.”

Even the Temples were powerless due to the sheer magnitude of Jaldabaoth’s physical and spiritual assault. It was said that time healed all wounds, but Neia was certain that most would suffer from these ones until they went to the gods.

“How do you feel about having to come up here to manage things?” Neia asked.

“Duty is an honour,” Lord Aston intoned. “Though, to be honest, I find it quite enjoyable. I was born and raised to do this sort of thing, but, as a second son, this is probably the closest I’ll ever get to having a title in my own right.”

“The Royal Court should just grant us the damn titles for all the work we’ve done.”

Neia and Lord Aston looked over at the entrance of the hall where Lord Lugo was walking in with his entourage.

“You know it’s not that simple, Lord Lugo,” Lord Aston said. “Having southern cadet branches ruling the north will skew the balance of power entirely.”

“As if that hasn’t effectively happened already,” Lord Lugo snorted as he took a seat on the opposite side of Lord Aston. “It’s a double standard, besides. They’re dangling rewards over the people to encourage them to perform, yet somehow our good governance isn’t counted for that. First, we’re de facto rulers of the north, then, we’re advising whatever commoners are raised to the post. While we’re doing that, we must also educate their children so they can govern on their own. Whoever we’re keeping these seats warm for will be southerners through and through by the end of it.”

It was difficult to debate his points when he laid them out that way. What once distinguished the north from the south was their degree of exposure to threats from the Abelion Hills and their traditional stance concerning the Crown. With the Abelion Hills no longer a threat and the Crown in its current state, the Holy Kingdom’s future aristocratic elite was bound to be more closely knit than ever before.

“I think we have to deal with the royalists before anything else,” Neia said.

“Indeed,” Lord Lugo nodded. “We should start hammering out the details immediately.”

The first course of lunch arrived and everyone settled in for a long afternoon of discussion and planning. Neia could only thank the gods that their first offensive was starting out quietly enough.