Volume One: The Forest Knight Chapter 23: Swimming Against the Current

After Mark finished speaking, Berion nodded and gestured for him to sit down, then picked up the small notebook in front of him. "The steward has already briefed everyone on the basic situation in the territory. Our foundations are still weak, but compared to when we first arrived, things have improved considerably. Here, the one we ought to thank most is the late chief of the Blood Wolf gang, Quade."

Berion paused with a smile, and the others burst into laughter. Barin chuckled, "Indeed, if not for Quade, it would have been much harder for us to gain so much. It seems, after all, that war and plundering get results quickest."

"Yes, robbery is the fastest way, which is why the northern lords are so fond of warfare," Berion agreed, nodding. "Right now, we have another chance for plunder, information we squeezed out of Sir Sack yesterday." Then, Berion told everyone what Sir Sack had revealed about Baron Raoul’s ship carrying pig iron, due to arrive in Riverside Town in three days. He also explained his longstanding enmity with Baron Raoul and his son from Lidar Fort.

After hearing this, the hot-tempered Bess slammed the table and rose to his feet. "That bastard Sir Yellen is worthless, and his dog of a father, Baron Raoul, is even worse—trying to murder a lord! We not only must seize their cargo ship, but someday we'll take their Lidar Fort as well!"

"Haha! Bess, sit down. Robbing them isn’t a problem, but how are we going to do it?" Iomor said. "Riverside Town is three days away. By the time we get there, they’ll have left. What are we supposed to rob?"

Bess, stumped by Iomor’s words, sat back down. Berion looked at him and said, "I discussed it with Iomor on the way back. We thought of riding over with a few men, but with too few, we might not win; with too many, we lack horses. Looks like this meat will slip through our fingers. No matter—we let them go this time, and next time, we’ll go ahead and wait for them."

"Milord, we don’t have to go by land," Berion had barely finished before Larl stood to speak.

"You mean by water? Upstream along the Carl River?" Berion asked, surprised.

Larl nodded. "Yes, milord. The Carl River flows northeast to southwest, joining the sea at Yanwick Shoals. The wind in the north blows southwest from the sea in spring and summer, and northeast from inland in autumn and winter. That means when ships go upstream, in spring and summer, from southwest to northeast, they have the wind but are against the current; from northeast to southwest, they have both wind and current. In autumn and winter, from southwest to northeast, they're against both wind and current, so most switch to land routes, but from northeast to southwest, both wind and current favor them and speed is quick. It’s early spring now, the southwest wind has begun, so if we take a boat up the Carl River to Riverside Town, with the wind behind us, we can get there in a day."

"How do you know this?" Mark eyed Larl warily.

"Because they fence stolen goods by boat, floating down the Carl River to Yanwick Shoals," Iomor stood and explained. "During Larl’s interrogation, he mentioned this. Oh, and you still have a boat, right?"

"Yes, Iomor," Larl replied.

Berion slapped his forehead, remembering now—Iomor’s interrogation notes had mentioned this, but he’d been too busy lately to recall. "I just remembered. Larl did say so during questioning. Your boat—is it hidden in Forest Lake?"

Larl quickly stood. "Yes, milord, it’s in a deep pool east of Forest Lake, connected by a river. The pool is inside a mountain cave, very well concealed."

"Excellent!" Berion slapped the table, excited. "How many boats are there? How big?"

"Milord, only one ordinary cargo vessel—not large. If the hold is full, it can carry thirty more men," Carl replied.

"How many of your men can handle the boat?" Berion asked.

"Counting me, eight," Larl replied. "With a crew like this, we could handle two ships of that size." Larl had always been in charge of transporting stolen goods.

Berion nodded, thought for a moment, then stood and ordered, "Larl, gather your boatmen, get them ready for a long journey." Larl took his orders and hurried out.

"Barin, bring your three hunter brothers and come with us. Reconnaissance is your job," Berion had barely finished before Barin stood up, "Don’t worry, milord, Barin won’t let you down," and left.

"Iomor, gather fifteen men. Equip them with the best gear in the territory. We’re going for a big haul!" Berion clapped Iomor’s shoulder. Iomor smiled knowingly and went out to choose elite soldiers.

"Bess, Tull, Barrett, you’ll stay with the Free Company to guard our home. Everything we have depends on your protection," Berion said.

"Rest assured, milord, with us guarding, there’ll be no trouble," the three replied in unison.

"Good, with you here, I’m at ease." Berion raised his glass with them and drank.

"Mark, Hama, the work of building the territory mustn’t stop. I’ll be gone for a few days—you must organize the people to start clearing land. Now that the weather is warm, it’s the best time. Every acre we reclaim means more grain come winter," Berion said earnestly.

"Don’t worry, sir, I’ll lead the land clearing," Mark promised.

Hama tapped his chest twice with a fist, reassuring Berion.

Berion turned to Bess, Tull, and Barrett. "You must assist our chief steward in organizing the people for land clearing."

"Of course, milord," the three replied.

Since they’d be seizing ships at the dock, chain mail would be cumbersome. Berion wore a jacket of iron plates, and the other twenty-eight men mostly wore either iron-plate jackets or double-layered leather armor—lighter and safer if they fell into the water. As for weapons, there were only a few polearms; most carried swords or axes. Most importantly, they took all twenty crossbows from Norland Fort, since they might need to ambush or fight aboard ship—crossbows are handier than longbows.

Once preparations were complete, Larl led the way. After winding through the Stag Forest, they arrived at a three-hundred-foot hill, beneath which lay a small lake of about ten acres, deep and blue-black. To the west, a river connected to Forest Lake; to the east, the lake extended into the mountain, whose base held a large cave, with part of the lake inside.

Led by Larl, the group followed a path along the lakeshore and entered the cave as dusk fell. Inside, dimly lit by torches, they saw the cave was one hundred fifty feet high, with a water area of sixty or seventy acres. Not far from them, by the shore, lay a single-masted boat, about thirteen paces long and five wide, with a shallow draft—a typical river fast ship.

Larl explained to Berion, "I bought this boat when I was still a farmer, hoping to earn extra money by hauling goods. Once, chased by river pirates, we fled through Forest Lake and stumbled upon this river, ending up here. Later, as a bandit chief, I kept it here for fencing stolen goods, sailing to Yanwick Shoals when needed."

Berion didn’t respond immediately. He knew winning someone’s true loyalty takes time. Larl was still more fearful than faithful, but Berion believed in trusting those he employed. Since Larl was willing to work now, there was no need to dwell on other matters. Besides, relationships often deepen through shared tasks. As long as Berion treated him honestly and gave him a better life, it wouldn’t be long before Larl became loyal.

"Does the boat have a name?" Berion asked.

"I call it the Red Trout, milord. The first time we took it out, our first net brought up a dozen red trout," Larl replied.

"A fine name. When this job’s done, I’ll share a good drink with you, and you can tell me your story. For now, Captain Larl, let’s set sail," Berion said, gazing at the boat.

"Yes, milord, I’ll go ready the crew." Larl took his seven men and got to work, and soon Berion and his party boarded and left the cave.

At the junction of the river and Forest Lake, some fallen trees blocked the way. Without moving them, the boat couldn’t pass. Larl explained to Berion that he’d placed them there to prevent discovery. Afterward, Larl and a few men cleared the timber, and the boat entered Forest Lake. With neither wind nor current, progress was sluggish, giving Berion time to enjoy the early spring scenery.

Spring’s warmth brought new life. Wild grass by the lake was fresh green; pink, yellow, and white flowers had bloomed; fish leaped from the water, and hunting birds darted to snatch them. Berion gripped the rail and looked north. On both sides of the riverbank where Forest Lake met the Carl River, reeds now glowed green, and beasts searching for food among them startled flocks of birds. Turning west, he saw the tranquil lake and distant forest, bathed in sunset, offering a grandeur beyond words.

Such beauty, Berion reflected, he had never seen in his previous life. Though this medieval world lagged behind, its ecology was splendid. This primal beauty was rare in the modern age.

Once on the Carl River, despite the current, the wind was favorable, and speed was not slow. With sails raised, the Red Trout sped forward, scenery rushing past. Soon it was nearly dark; after dinner, everyone rested, leaving Larl, his crew, and Iomor’s men to handle the sailing.

By midday the following day, beside the dock at Riverside Town, a small tavern offered cheap food and drink to sailors and laborers. As usual, it was noisy—drunken workers gathered by threes and fives, laughing and shouting. Some drunken fool groped the plump cook as she served food, making her shriek and the crowd howl.

At a table near the boats, four men sat quietly—guards by their look, eating and drinking, speaking in low voices. In such chaos, no one noticed them. These four were Berion, Iomor, Barin, and one of Barin’s men, fresh from landing. Berion and Iomor were there to wait for Barin and his companion to return with news.

"Milord, I’ve got everything clear. Those two big ships flying the Wild Bear banner at the dock belong to Baron Raoul. Each has six guards and ten sailors, who might also join the fight. The transport is overseen by the baron’s steward’s youngest son. He has a mistress in Riverside Town—not only will he spend the night at her house, but he’s asked her to find some women of the trade for the guard captain, the chief sailor, and several guards. Tonight the ships will be empty," Barin whispered.

"Well done, Barin, you’re remarkable," Berion praised him, raising a glass.

Barin scratched his head, embarrassed. "Milord, it’s everyday stuff for us hunters, tracking and reading signs. Besides, you taught me some scouting tricks—how could I not do well?"

Berion had shared some of his past life’s recon training with Barin, who turned out to be a natural. Adding Berion’s tips to his own hunting experience, Barin easily found the enemy and used a few tricks to learn all this.

Make best use of everything and everyone—a lesson Berion, with two lifetimes, understood well. The Barin-Barrett brothers: Barin excelled at scouting but was a mediocre fighter; Barrett was a master marksman, not quite able to hit a hundred paces every time, but nearly so. Thus, Barin led the scouts, and Barrett trained the archers.

"Good. Tell the brothers—we strike tonight. Everyone get ready!" Berion told Iomor. Iomor nodded confidently. Berion tossed down a silver coin and led the party out.