Volume One: The Forest Knight Chapter Thirty-Three: Dividing Forces

Berion noticed that both Beth and Gamlin were upset, so he comforted them: “Beth, Gamlin, it’s not that I favor Eomer and Barrett by not letting you come along. There will be plenty of chances to earn merit in battle; there’s no need to rush it this time. But the opportunity to both guard Norland Castle well and train the soldiers comes only once. Though you two won’t be on the battlefield, when the time comes to reward merits after the war, your contributions will rank at the top. Rest assured about that.”

Hearing the lord say so, Beth and Gamlin felt a bit embarrassed. By rights, not having to go to war should have made them grateful, yet here they were, vying for attention. Beth replied, “Milord, guarding the home and training the troops are important tasks in themselves. Entrusting them to us is an honor—we’re happy to accept, so please don’t say such things.” Gamlin quickly echoed his sentiment.

Seeing their understanding, Berion continued with his arrangements: “The second issue is the allocation of forces. Viscount Merry only gave me fifty serfs; if I bring fifty soldiers over, what will I ask him for next time? I’ve decided to take twenty regulars and ten militiamen—a total of thirty soldiers—to report to Amondine City. The remaining five regulars and fifteen militiamen will be led by Barrett, who will take a boat upriver along the Karl River and reach the vicinity of Maple Leaf Manor’s docks ahead of us. When the siege begins, you’ll launch a surprise attack and seize the pirates’ ships. Afterwards, find a secluded place to wait; once we’ve taken Maple Leaf Manor, we’ll surely want to take some spoils with us, and river transport will be faster and more discreet than overland.”

“At your command, my lord!” Barrett rose and accepted the order.

“Eomer and I will take thirty soldiers and set out tomorrow to meet Sir Pippin at the county seat. To ease our march, I’ll bring two four-wheeled wagons for tents and supplies. We’ll only take enough food for the journey; this expedition is for the county lord’s achievements, and Viscount Merry mentioned in his letter that he’ll arrange the provisions,” Berion explained his plan for dividing the troops.

After a brief discussion of the details for both routes, Berion stood and addressed everyone: “Tomorrow at dawn, Eomer and I will depart first. We’ll likely stay in Amondine for a day or two, so Barrett, you can set out the day after tomorrow. Well, I won’t keep you for dinner tonight—go home and make preparations, and tell the soldiers to do the same. The battle is imminent, and I have little more to say. Let us together win renown for Norland Castle’s men. When we return victorious, we’ll hold a feast in the newly built castle atop Stormpeak!”

“Agreed!” Everyone shouted in unison and then went off to their tasks.

When Berion arrived in Amondine with his troops, there was no space left in the county seat to camp. Besides his hundred county soldiers, Viscount Merry had coerced and bribed several direct county lords. Aside from Berion, eight court knights had brought their soldiers as well. Not only that, he had recruited fifty city infantry with their own equipment to join the main force. By this day, all had arrived except Berion and one knight, and Amondine simply didn’t have enough space for so many soldiers, so the lords’ troops and city militia had to camp outside the city.

The influx of soldiers made Amondine a chaotic place in recent days. There were brawls in taverns, bloody fights between rival factions over women, and street robberies. As Berion, Eomer, Tur, and Bran made their way to the county lord’s mansion, the sights along the way gave them second thoughts about joining this campaign. Not for any other reason, but because their would-be comrades seemed utterly unreliable—good enough for an easy victory, but should the tide turn, they’d flee faster than rabbits. Of course, this was just idle musing; Berion knew that quitting now would not be tolerated by Viscount Merry. Sometimes one must bow to circumstance.

Arriving at the county lord’s mansion, the guards informed them that Viscount Merry had just left the city to inspect the camp. The four turned back and left the city, deducing that Viscount Merry had avoided the main streets precisely to not witness the soldiers’ rowdy antics.

Reaching the camp outside the city, they found Viscount Merry and Sir Pippin approaching the Norland Castle troops’ encampment. Berion quickly had his soldiers line up at the camp gate, awaiting the inspection by the lord and the commander.

Viscount Merry had been in low spirits these days, mainly because the lords were so unreliable. The camp outside was filled mostly with grey-haired old men and barely grown youths, all clad in musty, tattered armor or worn-out leather. Some carried spears made from crooked tree branches, others wore swords without scabbards, rusted and tied to their waists, and some even brought their household axes for chopping wood. Viscount Merry thought their gear was worse than that of bandits and robbers—how could he possibly count on them for battle?

Originally, besides Berion, Viscount Merry had ordered eight court knights with their own fiefs to each bring at least twenty soldiers. But their fiefs were just a couple of villages, with only a few hundred subjects, and the busy farming season made it impossible to muster enough able-bodied men. So they padded their numbers with old men and boys, adding five or six light infantry from their private guard, just enough to fulfill Viscount Merry’s orders. None expected to win glory, merely to satisfy the lord’s demand.

Sir Pippin’s pessimism was even deeper, for he was the commander of this campaign. The county had given him a hundred county soldiers and fifty recruited city militiamen. The county soldiers’ equipment was passable, but their training was neglected; they were adept at bullying locals and extorting taxes, but hopeless for tough combat. The fifty city militia, equipped at their own expense, were mostly craftsmen, younger sons, and illegitimate sons from merchant families. Their gear was decent—iron-plated armor and helmets, standard weapons like shields, spears, short swords, or war hammers, making them heavy infantry. But they functioned as a separate unit, fighting only for pay, and would never take on dangerous tasks without sufficient incentive; in a crisis, they’d be first to retreat, even worse than mercenaries who at least get the job done for enough money.

Thus, Sir Pippin had pinned his hopes for the assault on the lords, but was dismayed when these court knights, who had promised so much, produced such feeble troops—worse even than the city militia and county soldiers. How could he hope for victory?

After inspecting the messy encampments of the eight lords, Viscount Merry and Sir Pippin had little hope for Norland Castle’s contingent. But when they reached Berion’s camp, they were surprised to find an exceptionally neat and quiet setup: a chest-high fence of sharpened stakes encircled a forty-pace perimeter, inside which six pale green canvas tents stood in perfect order. Four warhorses, four pack horses, and two four-wheeled wagons were arranged tidily, and thirty soldiers formed three ranks on the open ground, awaiting inspection.

Upon seeing Viscount Merry and Sir Pippin, Berion hurried forward and bowed. “Honored County Lord, Commander, Berion Tucker, Inspector of the Direct County, reports with thirty Norland Castle soldiers for inspection.”

At Berion’s signal, Tur began beating the drum and Bran played the flute—a march inspired by the “Grenadier March” from the distant isle of England, which Berion had taught his two attendants, who in turn trained the drummers and flutists. As drum and flute sounded, the thirty soldiers simultaneously raised their weapons to their left chests, standing tall and proud before their superiors.

After the inspection, the music ceased, and the soldiers lowered their weapons, still standing at attention. Viscount Merry’s face was transformed from disappointment to excitement. He exclaimed, “Sir Berion, your troops are excellent. I was right to trust you. With this crack force, we will surely recapture Maple Leaf Manor.”

“Thank you, County Lord, for your praise. We Norland Castle men will do our utmost, but the main credit belongs to your strategic command and the leadership of Commander and the lords working together,” Berion replied, eager to avoid his well-trained troops being used as the main assault force; at the first hint of praise, he quickly deflected.

“Haha, Sir Berion, you are too modest. As long as you cooperate with Sir Pippin in retaking Maple Leaf Manor, your merit and reward will be assured,” Viscount Merry continued, hinting at his intentions.

“Yes, Sir Berion. When the battle is done, I will report your achievements fairly. Between us, we understand each other—your merit will be yours, so don’t worry,” Sir Pippin chimed in.

Seeing Berion’s men, Sir Pippin’s confidence returned somewhat; he knew that to inspire loyalty, one must promise rewards—otherwise, who would risk their life?

“Indeed, indeed. I will assist Sir Pippin and the other knights in recapturing Maple Leaf Manor,” Berion replied, holding firm to his principles.

Noting his resolve, Viscount Merry did not press further. He and Sir Pippin exchanged glances and said, “Haha, as for battle plans, we can discuss them later. Tonight, you and Eomer are invited to my mansion for the welcome banquet. I will also send beer and food to the camp; let everyone relax and prepare for tomorrow’s departure.”

“At your command, my lord,” Berion replied. Viscount Merry and Sir Pippin then returned to Amondine.

After their departure, Berion dismissed the troops, allowing them to rest after a day’s march and camp setup—not only out of consideration for their effort, but because he knew that there is no hatred without cause, no love without reason, and no loyalty without reward. To inspire loyalty, one must provide tangible benefits, foster psychological allegiance, and preferably wave the banner of idealism. With these three, most people can be won over.

Once the soldiers had gone to rest, Berion and Eomer settled in a quiet spot within the camp. Tur and Bran thoughtfully brought them two mugs of ale. Eomer took a sip and said, “Berion, do you think we can actually win this battle? Looking at those soldiers, I believe one pirate could defeat ten of them.”

Berion nodded. “Relying on them to win is impossible. But we must be clear about our real purpose for this campaign.”

“Oh? Isn’t it to earn merit and, incidentally, seize some goods and grain?” Eomer was curious about Berion’s intentions.

“That’s just the surface, or what we tell everyone to motivate them. But the true purpose is different. We can earn merit anytime; there’s no lack of opportunities for war. As for goods and grain, Norland Castle isn’t in need, and having too many valuables might only attract greedy eyes and trouble,” Berion explained, dismissing Eomer’s guess.

Eomer shook his head in resignation. “I don’t understand. Ever since you returned from your injury, you’ve changed—you’re no longer like a youth under twenty, but more like a man in his thirties or forties.”

“Haha, perhaps that ordeal made me understand many things,” Berion replied with a smile.

“Recently, three or four thousand refugees have worked at Norland Castle, but only about five hundred chose to stay. Why is that? Is it because I didn’t offer enough benefits? No—in all the North, there’s no lord more generous than I. So why won’t they remain?”

“The main reason is lack of security. Norland Castle has been established only half a year, and I am an unknown knight with few soldiers. How could these refugees be willing to follow such a lord? We’ve defeated wolves and bandits, but those are minor deeds. What’s really needed is to win a few battles and build our reputation, so we can attract more people. Without population, the fief cannot develop,” Berion explained.

“And of course, it’s not just for that. Achieving merit lets me advance, and promotion allows me to elevate you. My brothers follow me not just to eat and clothe themselves, but to gain a chance to rise above their status, to escape the ranks of commoners.”

“Furthermore, as you know, I am now part of the northern faction at court. I’m still a minor figure, but to attract the attention of powerful men and gain their support, I need real achievements.”

“And for self-preservation—the father and son at Lida Castle surely harbor ill intent toward us. The more victories we win, the less bold they’ll be in plotting against us, and the safer we’ll be.”

After Berion finished, Eomer understood at last. “I wouldn’t have thought of these things if you hadn’t told me! Haha, you’re right. For a better and safer life, we must win more battles!”