Volume One: The Forest Knight Chapter 19: Don’t Take Me for a Fool

Nolandburg’s supplies were limited, and Berion could not afford to keep the prisoners indefinitely. On the second day, he and Eomer, along with Grove, led an escort team consisting of twenty-five Nolandburg soldiers and ten Free Company mercenaries, guarding over forty prisoners and the severed heads of bandit chieftains, heading to Amondine to report their victory.

As this nearly hundred-strong team approached the city of Amondine, the soldiers responsible for defending the walls hurried to shut the gates. Only after the defense officer confirmed Berion’s identity did they let him and his party inside. Viscount Merry, who was discussing affairs in his residence with Sir Pippin, newly promoted as Chief Constable, and Sir Sack, the recently appointed Deputy Constable, was astonished by the report from his subordinates. He quickly led everyone to the city square, as there were too many prisoners to fit in the viscount’s residence. The city defense garrison brought Berion and his party straight to the square, cleared out the vendors and beggars, and then reported to Viscount Merry.

Upon seeing Berion, Viscount Merry and Sir Pippin took out the wanted poster and checked the head of the bandit chief Rahl. They had several officers who had fought the Rahl gang come forward for confirmation. Once they were sure, Viscount Merry laughed heartily, embracing Berion. “My dear brother Berion, winter has only just passed, and you’ve already rendered great service! You have rid our direct county of the infamous Blood Wolf Gang. Truly, the Fire God has blessed us by sending such a fine knight to our lands.”

Viscount Merry was a neutral among the duchy’s nobility. He held his post securely, partly due to his absolute loyalty to Duke Carolin and partly because he was a practical man, able to solve real problems. It was precisely this pragmatism that made him favor Berion so much after witnessing the eradication of a long-entrenched gang. He began to show Berion kindness, knowing that such a capable and worldly subordinate was worth cultivating, for many thorny issues in the county would depend on Berion in the future.

Seeing his superior so enthusiastic, Berion responded in kind. “My lord Viscount, it is all thanks to your wise leadership. With your planning and support, it was only natural that I could so smoothly defeat these bandits.”

Viscount Merry listened as Berion gave him the main credit, looking at him with deep meaning. “Sir Berion, the Minister of Public Safety at court has written to me, praising you as a remarkable knight. Now I see it for myself! I will report our joint accomplishment to the Minister and the Chancellor, and of course, I will highlight your feat of slaying the bandit chief. I am already middle-aged; it is only right for me to promote promising young men like you.”

Though Berion was willing to yield the main credit, Viscount Merry knew Berion was on good terms with the Minister of Public Safety, and after recently defeating Sir Yellen in a duel at Lidaburg, Berion had gained some reputation among the nobility of the Brick Duchy. At this point, Viscount Merry was too embarrassed to claim the main credit, so he settled for the merit of strategic leadership, thus showcasing both his own governance and Berion’s ability—a win-win situation.

While Viscount Merry and Berion conversed pleasantly, Deputy Constable Sir Sack’s face changed dramatically when he saw the head of the Blood Wolf Gang’s chief Rahl, his pale complexion turning even whiter. Sir Pippin, standing beside him, laughed and asked, “What’s wrong, Sir Sack? Haven’t you seen a severed head before?”

Sir Sack steadied himself, forcing a smile. “Ha, of course I have! It’s just that the roast rabbit I had for lunch may have disagreed with me; I’m feeling a terrible pain in my stomach.” He clutched his abdomen as he spoke.

Sir Pippin shook his head, gesturing for him to find a place to relieve himself, and Sir Sack hurriedly fled the city square.

The prisoners and bandit heads were handed over to Sir Pippin, the Chief Constable, while Viscount Merry happily invited Berion and Eomer to his residence as guests. That night, he would host a grand banquet to celebrate the greatest victory in bandit suppression since he became the county’s lord, with the city’s nobles and prominent merchants all attending.

Before the banquet, Viscount Merry and Berion had a private conversation in the study. Viscount Merry did not ask about the spoils, knowing Berion would neither tell him the truth nor share the loot. Rather than press the issue, he chose to maintain goodwill, leaving room for future cooperation.

“Berion, how old are you this year?” Viscount Merry personally filled Berion’s goblet with Sarion wine, the finest and most renowned vintage in the land. Typically, lower-ranking nobles only tasted it on rare festive occasions, and even middling nobles reserved it for important guests.

“Replying to my lord, I am nineteen this year.” Berion stood respectfully, accepting the full goblet.

Viscount Merry gently pressed Berion’s shoulder, urging him to sit. “Nineteen—truly accomplished for your age. When I was your age, I was merely a common attendant in the Duke’s guard, not to mention leading troops against bandits; I hadn’t even seen battle. Compared to you, I was far behind.”

Hearing Viscount Merry’s words, Berion hurriedly replied in a flustered tone, “My esteemed lord, you flatter me. I only managed to eliminate some roadside bandits with the help of mercenaries. You, my respected lord Viscount, are the confidant of our monarch and the protector of the county’s people. My meager accomplishments hardly deserve such praise.”

Viscount Merry laughed loudly. “Most young knights of your age would have their tails in the air after such feats, yet you remain so humble—remarkable indeed.”

Berion smiled slightly. “Thank you for your kind words, my lord.”

“At first, I thought you, as a student of the Dawn Sword, were outstanding mainly in martial skill. I didn’t expect you to be both brave and clever. Sir Pippin interrogated several bandits, and from their accounts, I learned about your campaign against the Blood Wolf Gang. The ambush you set was truly brilliant. To be frank, few lords in Amondine or the county can compare to you.”

Viscount Merry’s words were somewhat cryptic, and Berion was unsure of his meaning, so he simply listened.

Viscount Merry sipped his wine and continued, “Last month, a court-owned estate in the county was overrun by a group of hungry refugees; only a handful of soldiers escaped.”

He sighed. “As you know, this winter was not only longer than previous years but colder. Not just our county, but the neighboring provinces of Janvik, Loire, and Highland saw many serfs and peasants nearly starved or frozen to death, leading to revolts and raids on wealthy farmers’ and lords’ granaries.

Those who were suppressed mostly became refugees, some of whom fled into the Stag Forest and turned to banditry. Some even joined existing gangs in the woods, attacking several estates within the county. Though these rabble rarely succeeded, unexpectedly, a group of sixty or seventy, made up of refugees and thieves, managed to capture the Maple Leaf Estate, which belongs to the court.”

Berion had heard talk of the Maple Leaf Estate at taverns in Amondine—a court estate with three thousand acres of arable land and over a hundred livestock. By northern standards, it was a prosperous middle-sized farm. Over a hundred serfs, most with families and some working the land for three generations, made it stable, and thirty light infantry guarded it. By rights, it should not have fallen easily.

“My lord, from what I know, the Maple Leaf Estate had enough guards. It’s unlikely such poorly equipped and starving refugees could break through.” Berion said, rubbing the finely crafted copper goblet.

Viscount Merry gave a bitter smile and shook his head. “I’m not certain of the details myself. I interrogated the surviving soldiers thoroughly; they insisted some serfs betrayed the estate, opening the gates at night to let the enemy in. Together with the bandits, they killed the estate steward and the guards, drove out the other serfs, and seized the farm.”

Berion frowned at this, sensing something amiss with the soldiers’ account. But lacking information, he refrained from speculating.

Seeing Berion silent, Viscount Merry went on: “Now, the county’s soldiers are stretched thin, barely able to cope with bandits and roaming refugees, let alone muster an army to retake Maple Leaf Estate. The county militia, as you know, are good at garrisoning towns and bullying common folk, but hopeless in assaulting fortified positions—they’d suffer heavy losses.

Third, and most importantly, Maple Leaf Estate is court property. I must retake it to answer to the court. The steward who was killed was the illegitimate son of a court baron, a knight as well. Both publicly and privately, I must send troops to reclaim it.”

Berion now understood. His superior’s lengthy speech was meant to enlist him for the campaign to recapture Maple Leaf Estate. Still, Berion played dumb. “My lord, if the county lacks troops, you could appeal to the court or hire mercenaries.”

“Appealing to the court would likely result in an inquiry into my mismanagement. As for hiring mercenaries, small bands won’t take on siege work, and large companies charge too much—and they deliberately drag out the campaign to maximize their fees,” Viscount Merry replied, troubled.

Hearing all this, Berion remained silent, waiting for Viscount Merry to lay his cards on the table so he could take the initiative.

As expected, Viscount Merry said, “Sir Berion, from the moment I met you—the son of Sir Aurei and a student of the Dawn Sword—I knew you were a remarkable knight. Today, seeing your success against the Blood Wolf Gang, I am certain you must help me retake Maple Leaf Estate.”

“Damn!” Berion cursed inwardly. He knew his superior’s flattery and fine wine were meant to lure him into another battle. Outwardly, he smiled. “My lord, it is an honor to be entrusted with such an opportunity for merit. I am grateful you would give me this chance.”

Viscount Merry nodded happily. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.”

“But I’ve just taken over Nolandburg. My entire population is barely over a hundred, with only a dozen hunters as soldiers, and the castle guards are mercenaries. After the battle with the Blood Wolf Gang, my forces are depleted. Surely you wouldn’t expect me to go to my death alone?” Berion said with a look of distress.

Viscount Merry looked at Berion with meaning, thinking: This lad isn’t easy to fool—he’s given me a ‘but’ and dashed my hopes! Does he think I can’t see his forces? The twenty-five soldiers escorting the bandit prisoners, though not superbly equipped, were clearly well-trained, had seen battle, and killed before. Standing unmoving in the square, they projected an aura far stronger than the city defense garrison keeping order nearby.

“Haha!” Viscount Merry laughed, sipping his wine, knowing Berion was angling for benefits. He decided to lay his cards on the table. “I know you lack manpower. Didn’t you just bring over forty bandit prisoners? I can give you an equal number of able-bodied serfs; you can select and train some as soldiers. I’ll also provide armor and weapons to outfit a squad. You’ll lead at least twenty soldiers as part of my bandit suppression force. How does that sound?”

Since Viscount Merry saw through his intentions, Berion dropped any pretense. The two bargained like merchants in the study until they reached an agreement.

Viscount Merry allowed Berion to select fifty able-bodied serfs from the court estates near Amondine. This seemed generous, but in truth he lost nothing—Berion’s forty bandit prisoners could be sent to the Snow Realm mines as labor, and the heads brought further credit to Viscount Merry as a capable county lord.

Knowing he had gained in this exchange, Viscount Merry compensated Berion with supplies: thirty spears, twenty single-handed swords, ten leather-covered round shields, fifteen crossbows, a thousand bolts, fifteen sets of double-layered leather armor, eight sets of iron-plated leather armor, ten iron-plated helmets, five riding horses, one four-wheeled wagon, three thousand pounds of grain, twenty bolts of cotton cloth, and a reward of twenty-five hundred denars—two thousand for Rahl’s head, five hundred as half the commission for the campaign, with another five hundred promised upon recapturing Maple Leaf Estate.

Overall, the supplies Viscount Merry offered were not particularly generous; the armor and weapons were meager, and the grain and cloth scarce—he wanted the horse to run but not to eat oats. Still, Berion was content; the greatest gain was the fifty able-bodied serfs, both labor and potential soldiers. Though exchanged for prisoners, loyal serfs were far preferable to resentful bandits.

Before the banquet, Berion managed to obtain five hundred pounds of raw iron from Viscount Merry, for now he had a blacksmith in his domain. Since the county lord was stingy with weapons, Berion would forge his own.