The Elder Lands

Chapter 20

In the first week of the harvest, the first merchant arrived at the Zesh estate. The road, as expected, had not been finished by then. But it was close, the laborers already visible from the keep, laying the final stretch of it. Once they finished, they’d begin working on the second half of it to the northeast. Though a problem had cropped up on that end, which they were now discussing in Sir Golan’s study.

Lucan was leaning on the table on which the map was laid. “Why?”

“He simply refused,” his father said, sniffing. “I’m not about to beg for an explanation. The Wards have always been overbearing. I’m not going to feed their vain arrogance.”

Lucan cursed, getting a subduing glance from his father. Thomas stood to the side, holding the letter that they’d received in response. His father had sent a request to Sir Ward for them to work together on the last third of the road which ran through the Ward lands. Lucan had hoped that the neighboring knight would pay his share to have a proper road run through his lands, but he’d also been ready for their estate to bear the whole cost in case the Wards proved hard-headed. It turned out he had underestimated how hard-headed they could be. They had refused to even let the laborers into their lands.

Now Lucan had to figure out how to make it work without them. He pointed at the northern branch of the canal where a bridge linked its two banks. A trail, trodden through by peasants, travelers, and traders led from their motte-and-bailey to the bridge. Another trail came all the way from the road south of the main canal, crossing another bridge to the southeast then continuing to the bridge he was pointing at. “Is this our formal border with them?”

Thomas stepped forward. “If I may,” he said. “There are no deeds that specify where exactly our borders are on this front. But the land on the other side of the bank has not been used by either side since we’ve come here.

“Could it be considered neutral?” Lucan asked.

Before Thomas could answer him, his father spoke. “Yes, and making use of it could count as provocation. It’s all well as long as neither of us uses it, but once either of us does, it becomes a problem.”

Lucan scratched his head, feeling a knot forming in his mind. He gave himself a moment to think. “We’re not really using it though. We could let the laborers work on the road a bit beyond the bridge, then stop once Sir Ward reacts.”

“The moment he reacts, it’s trouble we’re better off without,” his father said. “No, you can work your way to the bridge, but not beyond that.”

Thomas cleared his throat, getting a permissive nod from Lucan’s father. “I’ve spoken with their steward on more than one occasion. I happen to know how often their men-at-arms patrol this far west. We can work a bit beyond the bridge, but not for very long. I reckon they won’t mind seeing a bit of new road there, but they would mind seeing hundreds of laborers.”

Lucan looked at his father, waiting for a decision.

The latter acquiesced, nodding. “Very well. You may have them work early morns under Thomas’s guidance.” Then he fixed them both with a heavy gaze. “But…no incidents, understood?”

Thomas nodded easily and Lucan heavily.

At least most of the road would still be paved with stone, even if the little bit of it passing through Sir Ward’s territory would stay as packed dirt. It would have to do for now.

“Now onto our next matter,” Lucan’s father said. “We’ve also received a response from Lord Arden who was all too happy to take us up on our offer. He’ll be sending his stocks of wine to be sold here soon. I see no obstacles with the other knights either. They will likely send what they want to have sold here.”

“We should let the merchants who arrive know,” Lucan said. “We don’t want them to leave in a hurry.”

Thomas nodded and Lucan knew he’d handle it.

…

It was another week later that two more merchants arrived, one of them with a wagon and one with a simple pack animal. The first cart carrying Arden wine also arrived. It was the cheapest wine Lucan knew of, and it had its own demand among the merchants. After all, not everyone could afford higher quality reds, and the poor were many more than the rich.

The laborers had also finished the last stretch of the road leading into the bailey. They’d been given a day’s rest before Thomas had had them begin on the trail heading northeast.

Grain had also begun flowing in with most of the peasants having successfully harvested their crops. Some crops were late in maturity and those would still be harvested sometime in the next fortnight. Any peasants fortunate enough to have a significant surplus after taxation would exchange it for some coin from the merchants. Although they mostly lived on barter among themselves, nobody said no to some coin that could be tucked under the floor planks for a rainy day.

Their estate had hardly gotten close to finishing their stored food. It had only been burdened by the refugees for a bit more than two months after all. Still, his father had held off on selling what remained of the old stock, even though the newly taxed crops could overfill their cellars.

Lucan understood the caution, but he was sanguine about it all. In the past, they’d get one passing merchant or a pair of them at most. Already, they were past that with three so far. Lucan expected even more, as the harvest season was a major one for trade.

The third week into the harvest, the first problem occurred.

Lucan was in his study reading when a heavy fist knocked on his door twice. When he opened it, he found his father flanked by Thomas.

“Father?”

His father glanced at the books laid on his desk then his eyes shifted to Lucan. “I thought you’d be setting those aside and looking after your duties now.” He turned around, sighing exasperatedly. “Follow me,” he said, striding down the hallway.

Lucan glanced at Thomas and whispered grindingly. “Why does he hate books so much?”

He recognized a suppressed grimace on the old steward’s face. “There’s been an incident.” He gestured in the direction his father had gone.

Lucan huffed, stepping out of his study and following his father.

Eventually, they convened in his father’s study, and Lucan heard about the incident. A traveling merchant had arrived, claiming that one of his pack animals had been snatched by monsters from the western forest.

“Are we certain it’s true?” Lucan asked Thomas. The steward was standing over the table with them. They were eying the spot on the map where the merchant claimed to have been attacked. It was west of their border, along the new road.

“He didn’t strike me as a fool,” Thomas said. “He also doesn’t seem to be new to the trade. Merchants learn the difference between wild predators and Labyrinth monsters, if only to know when to fight and when to run.”

“Then we have trouble to deal with.” Sir Golan’s heavy voice echoed in the study. “Let the men know that we’ll be departing early tomorrow, and send a pair of them to patrol the road until sunset today.” He eyed the map for a moment, then his eyes moved to Lucan, resting on him for a while. The knight repeatedly tapped the edge of the table with a finger and pressed his lips together.

Lucan could swear his father was anxious, or hesitant. It was a rare enough occurrence that both he and Thomas noticed it. All the while, his father’s eyes hadn’t left him.

Suddenly Thomas perked up, seemingly realizing something. He spoke quickly, surprising Lucan. “Golan, may I suggest delaying such thoughts? He’s not ready yet.”

Lucan had never heard the steward calling his father by bare name, which suggested that he was talking about something serious. He could infer that it was about him, but his mind was still putting together what it was about him.

“He’ll have to do it sooner or later.”

“Yes, but not yet,” Thomas insisted. “You’d be relying on your men to watch over him. He wouldn’t truly be assuming the responsibility. The time will come, sooner or later.”

“But not now?” his father said, glancing at the old steward.

“But not now,” Thomas affirmed.

Lucan eyed them both, finally realizing what they were talking about. His father had been thinking of staying back and sending him in command of the men-at-arms. The thought alone alarmed him. He didn’t know what he’d be supposed to do. He’d been on only one such adventure before, in Sir Wolfe’s lands, and it hadn’t been a very smooth affair.

“Very well,” his father said. “I’ll go, but,” he turned to regard Lucan critically, “you’ll be guiding us.”

Thomas sighed, looking tired.

“I have no experience with woodcraft, Father,” Lucan said.

His father chuckled. “You won’t be doing the tracking, son. You will be leading, nominally at least. I will only assume back the role if you prove incompetent enough.”

Lucan cursed in his mind. I’m not even certain I can hunt beasts properly as a subordinate yet. His showing in Sir Wolfe’s hunt hadn’t been abysmal, but the venture hadn’t been as easy as breaking his fast either.

Yet, what could he say? Thomas had already saved him from the worst of it. Perhaps he should be thankful.

“Yes, Father.” He surrendered.

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