Volume One: The Forest Knight Chapter 46: The Birth of Grayhawk Fortress

This is the first novel I have ever written. Back when I was in school, I had the idea of writing a book, but I never acted on it. After working for five years, many things in my life have finally settled into a routine, and I’m not as busy as I was when I was just an entry-level employee. So I decided to revisit my old aspiration—to write a novel, as a way to commemorate those days spent playing Mount & Blade.

But with my nine-to-six job, running after work, and the frequent business dinners that come with the alcohol industry, I can’t update as prolifically as some others do. I hope my readers who support me will understand, thank you! I’ll do my best to keep the updates coming, aiming for three to four thousand words a day.

After Berion finished speaking, Mark praised him repeatedly, “My lord, your housing allocation plan is truly brilliant. It gives everyone a place to live, but not as an unearned handout, and at the same time, it creates a steady stream of income for the lord’s manor. Most importantly, it will keep the people continually grateful for your generosity.”

“All right, there’s no need for more flattery,” Berion interrupted. “You still have many tasks to handle; just focus on doing them well. Now, I have a second point to discuss with you, Mark. I need you to take care of some things.” Berion didn’t like sycophantic words from his subordinates, whether sincere or not.

“Yes, my lord, your orders,” Mark replied respectfully.

“There are some orphans in the territory, boys and girls alike. Gather them and build two houses next to my manor—one for them to live in, and one for schooling. Regardless of gender, they must all learn to read and write. I will assign two soldiers who were wounded and disabled in battle to help you manage the boys and train them in military discipline. As for the girls, find a woman who has worked as a servant for a noble family to teach them housekeeping and cooking. I will also make time each week to personally instruct them. Treat this as a priority,” Berion said solemnly.

“My lord, may I ask why you are doing this?” Mark asked, puzzled.

The others exchanged confused glances as well. “Why is the lord doing this?” “It’s so strange!” they murmured.

Berion tapped his wine goblet on the table and said sternly, “These children have lost their families and have no one to rely on. I provide them with food, clothing, and shelter, care for them, and teach them. Tell me, how do you think they will regard me?”

“Of course, they will be loyal to you, my lord, and willing to die for you,” Barin answered.

“Exactly! Besides those of you present here, I need another group of people who are absolutely loyal to me and capable of carrying out my orders—not just to serve me, but to help you manage the people. Nolanburg comprises over eighty thousand acres of land. Even if only half is cleared for farmland, that’s at least seven or eight villages and more than three thousand people. Can just the four of you manage all that? I don’t want to be like other lords, contracting out tax collection and administration to greedy tax farmers, which only breeds resentment among the people and brings no real benefit. If these orphans spend several years learning to read, write, calculate, and train in martial arts, I believe two young people could manage an entire village. All you would need to do is oversee them.”

“My lord, I think we should recruit more boy orphans. They could not only handle civil duties but also join the army. Young people with such high loyalty, discipline, and martial ability would make excellent officer candidates. After fighting a few battles alongside us, they would quickly mature,” Bess said excitedly, feeling as if a whole new world had opened up before him at Berion’s words.

“I agree, and that’s exactly what I intend. First, we can gather orphans, especially boys aged eight to thirteen. Whether we find them by buying from slave traders in High Mountain Fort, Amondin, or Yanwickshire, or by hiring passing merchants to collect them for us, as long as we pay, it’s possible. Second, as their numbers grow, management becomes a problem. If possible, we should build a dedicated school near Greenhill Village—a small castle, really—where the orphans can live and learn. All the boys must receive at least two years of education and training there, and when they reach fifteen, they can choose to join the army, work in civil administration, or learn a trade like blacksmithing. You can discuss this among yourselves and draft a detailed plan. Third, these children have no parents; after they arrive, as the lord of Nolanburg, I will be their father. You, as their teachers, must play the role of mothers—not only teaching them knowledge and skills but also caring for their daily needs. I will strive to do the same,” Berion explained methodically.

Inspired by Bess’s suggestion, Berion considered simply founding a militarized orphan school, much like the rulers of the Ottoman Empire had done in his previous life’s history—gathering a cohort of youths and molding them, before their values were set, to produce a generation of absolutely loyal and capable subordinates.

“My lord, I think not only orphans but also children from ordinary families who wish to join should be allowed, provided they live and eat at the castle, except during major holidays or special occasions. Of course, for these children, we can charge for room and board,” Mark added.

Iomeir smiled at Berion and said, “My lord, this sounds rather like a knight’s school, though not one for training knights.”

“Hahaha, we can’t call it a knight’s school. Last time I visited Greenhill Village, I heard that gray hawks are often seen in the forest by the hill. Let’s call it Grayhawk Keep. I hope these children will one day soar like hawks. If anyone in the territory wants their child to study at Grayhawk Keep, they may, but only after passing an interview with me—if I’m not available, then at least with Mark or Iomeir. Qualified children may study at Grayhawk Keep for free. For the first intake, let’s start with two hundred students. The castle can be built slightly larger; I expect there will be more students in the future,” Berion concluded, thus naming the school that would have a profound impact on the future of the Verin continent.

Berion then told everyone about Viscount Merrick’s order for him to form an infantry regiment. Since they were already preparing to expand and train the army, he decided to rename the standing force as the Nolanburg Infantry Regiment and the militia as the Nolanburg Militia Regiment. In reality, a hundred-man infantry regiment was equivalent to what Berion considered a company, but he had no intention of sticking to just a hundred men. He would first form the first company, then gradually expand. By year’s end, under the name of the regiment, he hoped to have two companies’ worth of troops, plus several hundred militiamen who had undergone more than half a year’s training. Berion was confident he could handle pirates and any other enemies.

The Nolanburg Infantry Regiment still needed three more squads to be fully formed, but with five hundred trained militiamen, it wouldn’t be hard to select seventy-five capable soldiers. Berion entrusted the task of screening and training these new recruits entirely to Iomeir and Bess. Berion himself took the position of regimental commander. Iomeir was appointed captain of the first company, and Bess its vice-captain; the two were responsible for selection and training.

Barrett was appointed captain of the Nolanburg Militia Regiment’s first company. Berion had already chosen a vice-captain, but would announce it after a detailed discussion that night. Gamlin was appointed Nolanburg’s sheriff, responsible for maintaining order. Berion instructed him to pick ten men from the militia to form a security squad. This team would mainly handle petty crimes and didn’t need sophisticated gear—Berion allocated ten sets of leather armor, ten sabers, and ten smooth wooden cudgels, more than enough for dealing with thieves and brawlers.

Additionally, Berion expanded his personal guard from a squad to a full team, with Tur as captain. Mark remained in charge of civil administration, assisted by Lahr, the territory’s civil affairs officer. Hama continued to oversee the workshops and was officially appointed as chief craftsman, responsible for all artisanal matters in the territory. Liano was formally named as chief builder, a position Berion himself invented, to be in charge of all construction projects in Nolanburg.

By the time they finished discussing these matters, the sun had set. After several days of feasting, no one felt like drinking or dining further, so Berion sent everyone off to get busy—the work ahead was urgent and time was of the essence.

Once his key men were dispatched to their tasks, Berion did not idle. After a simple meal, he asked a guardsman to invite Dock, the leader of the city militia he had hired, to come see him. Dock and his men lived nearby in the wooden houses Berion had built for the refugee artisans’ families, so he arrived shortly.

“Brother Dock, you’ve been living in Nolanburg for a few days now. How are you finding it? Is everything to your liking?” Berion asked as he poured Dock a drink.

Dock received the wine with both hands and replied, “Thank you for your concern, my lord. We’ve been living and eating very well these past days—especially in the evenings, with plenty of drink. It’s been wonderful.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been preoccupied lately, so if there’s anything I’ve neglected, please don’t hold it against me,” Berion said, raising his cup.

“My lord, it has truly been excellent. I haven’t felt this comfortable in a long time—endless beer, abundant meat, and everyone is so warm and cheerful. There’s a sparkle of happiness in every eye. This is truly a land of beauty,” Dock said, not merely to flatter Berion, but from genuine feeling.

In his years as a mercenary, Dock had passed through countless lords’ lands, where he had often seen villages full of ragged, hungry people with hollow eyes—a land lifeless and desolate.

Berion smiled at Dock’s words and got up to stand by the window. Gazing at the newly risen full moon, he said, “Brother Dock, would you care to take a walk with me outside?”

Dock was taken aback, but agreed, “Of course, my lord.”

Accompanied by four guards, the two walked outside the castle. Berion hadn’t wanted to bring guards—he could handle himself—but since he and his men had killed Sir Sack and seized Baron Lauer’s cargo ship, Mark and Iomeir insisted that Berion always have guards when alone or out at night. Their enemies still had some power, and an assassination attempt was not impossible. If anything happened to Berion, all the progress made in Nolanburg over the past year would be for naught, and Mark and Iomeir’s hopes of rising in society would be shattered. With so many people depending on him, Berion had no choice but to agree.

Berion and Dock strolled leisurely down the cement road under the midsummer night sky. Northern summers could be hot, but outdoors, the cool breeze made for a pleasant walk. They headed toward Stormtop, now manned by militiamen, where torches burned on the ramparts at night, making it look like a castle already inhabited by lord and soldiers.

After a while, Berion suddenly asked, “Brother Dock, do you know why I haven’t agreed to let you join Nolanburg?”

“Uh…” Dock hesitated, then said sincerely, “I don’t think it’s because you don’t trust us, my lord. Perhaps you feel we’re not good enough at fighting.”

Berion shook his head. “No one’s born a soldier. With strict training and battlefield experience, anyone can become one. Take these four men walking with us—what do you think of them?”

“Calm, silent, absolutely obedient—first-rate soldiers,” Dock answered without hesitation. “They’re physically strong, able to stand at attention for hours without moving, and hold their ground in the face of enemy charges.”

The four guards, though they kept impassive faces, straightened up a little, unable to hide their pride at Dock’s words.

Berion continued, “Do you know how long they’ve been with me?”

“Uh… I don’t know,” Dock replied honestly.

“Take a guess,” Berion prompted.

“At least three years, I’d say. Perhaps they’re professional family soldiers assigned to you by your father, Sir Auray, to protect you?” Dock ventured.

Berion burst out laughing. “They were serfs I received last winter at the royal estate outside Valombrey. They’ve been with me less than a year.”

“What! That’s impossible!” Dock exclaimed. In his experience, an elite infantryman needed three to five years of training and several battles to hone his skills. Yet Berion had apparently turned four serfs into such soldiers in under a year—unbelievable.

“Zorgo, tell Brother Dock how long you’ve been under my command,” Berion called to one of the guards.

“My lord, Captain Dock, I was a serf at the royal estate. I came to Nolanburg with the lord last year, began military training in early December, and became a swordsman and shield-bearer. I’ve fought in Night of the Hungry Wolves, the bandit raid, the destruction of the bandit lair, and the recapture of Maple Manor—over eight months of service,” Zorgo replied.

Berion had given names to each major battle since coming to Nolanburg for easy reference: “Night of the Hungry Wolves” was the wolf attack, for example. Zorgo, the swordsman and shield-bearer, was now a veteran, having served in nearly every engagement, always in Tur’s lord’s guard. During marches, Berion had even taught these close guards to read and write and instructed them in the art of war.

Berion’s intention was to cultivate his personal guards as seeds for future officers—so that, during expansion, they could be promoted to team leaders and deputies, thus solving the shortage of capable officers and tightening his control over the army.