Volume One: The Forest Knight Chapter 18: Submission and Judgment

The loyalty of ordinary people is founded upon the favors bestowed by those above them and the hope they hold for a better life. At present, the folk of Norlandburg may not be absolutely loyal to Berion, but at the very least, for now, they will not betray him lightly. This is not only because their daily needs are met, but also because a string of victories has offered them a glimpse of a brighter future, one they are willing to pursue at Berion’s side.

Once all goods had been stored away, and livestock and poultry secured in their pens, night had fallen in earnest. Mark organized the women to prepare a lavish meal for everyone, and several bonfires were lit throughout the camp. Spring had just begun, and though the nights remained cold, it was already much improved from the depths of winter. Sitting by the fire, eating hot food, the chill was easily endured, and thus the victory feast commenced in the open courtyard of the castle. In the kitchen, apple pies and meat pastries were continuously baked, while whole pigs and sheep roasted over the outdoor flames. A large cauldron steamed nearby, filled with fragrant, bubbling fish soup.

Berion ordered that the captured ale be brought out and opened, encouraging everyone to drink their fill. Except for those guarding the prisoners and standing night watch, all were invited to join the celebration. Yet Berion did not neglect the soldiers on duty—each was sent a portion of the feast, and both mercenaries and Norlandburg men alike received a bonus of two denars for holding their posts, to make up for missing the festivities.

Those who had survived the crucible of battle, narrowly escaping death, now relaxed completely under the influence of drink. None could say how late into the night the revelry continued. Berion only remembered being helped, half in a daze, back to his quarters by Bess and Uncle Tur. Although the ale was weak, overindulgence still led to intoxication. With so much to attend to after battle, a true lord ought not to drink so heavily, Berion thought ruefully, but then consoled himself—no one is born knowing how to be a lord—and turned his mind to the matters at hand.

The first and foremost was the interrogation of Larr and Quade, to discover who had ordered the attack on Norlandburg. As things stood, Berion did not even know the face of his enemy, making it impossible to plan an effective response. This would not do. Now prisoners and having already suffered Berion’s interrogation methods, Larr and Quade confessed the truth before him, revealing the mastermind behind the assault.

The one who had incited the Blood Wolf bandits against Norlandburg was none other than Sir Yellen, heir to the Lord of Lydaburg, son of Baron Raul—a man whom Berion had previously offended. Ever since his defeat at Berion’s hands in single combat, Yellen had nursed a deep grudge, even seeking to sow discord between Berion and his own brother, Sir Sey. Yet he had not anticipated that among the onlookers that day was Sir Charles, only son of Duke Carolin. Sir Charles and his retinue had witnessed the duel in its entirety.

The knightly spirit and skill that Berion displayed left a profound impression on Sir Charles. Upon returning to the court at Valonbraid, he recounted the affair to his father, Duke Carolin, and to the circle of nobles friendly to him. Word spread of how Sir Yellen had provoked Berion only to be soundly beaten. While this did not alter the Raul barony’s standing, it was nevertheless a disgrace—a blow to their reputation among the Duchy of Brick’s nobility, and particularly damaging to Sir Yellen’s own prestige. Baron Raul’s efforts to secure Yellen a post at court were thus significantly hindered.

Sir Yellen, spoiled and narrow-minded as his father, could not let the humiliation pass unavenged. Through the connivance of the chancellor, he arranged for a kinsman by marriage to be appointed deputy sheriff of the ducal district, pushing Berion into the less significant role of inspector. Then this knight, named Sack, contacted a fence in Amandin city who dealt with stolen goods for the bandits. Through him, he established a link to the Blood Wolf gang. Sack met with Larr and Quade outside Amandin, delivered two thousand denars as a deposit from Baron Raul, and promised that upon completion, all of Norlandburg’s wealth would be theirs, along with an additional three thousand denars.

Upon learning that Norlandburg’s new lord was weakly garrisoned but possessed considerable wealth, Larr was immediately tempted. Sack further assured him that, if successful, Baron Raul could secure him a position as a knight’s squire at court, transforming him from a bandit into a noble. Such terms were irresistible to Larr; he agreed on the spot and plotted carefully upon his return. Who could have foreseen that Berion would see through his scheme at a glance, leading to his capture and imprisonment?

It is often said that enemies should be resolved, not deepened, but since they were now adversaries, there was no need for timidity. Now that Berion knew his foe, he began to devise his own countermeasures. When the time was right, he would see that the Raul family suffered a bitter loss, to teach them that he was not to be trifled with.

Following Larr’s interrogation, Berion summoned Quade, Hama, and others. Through the questioning of these leaders, Berion gained a clear understanding of the Blood Wolf gang’s inner workings. Though Larr was a chief, he seldom took part in raids, serving instead as quartermaster and overseer. Not only that, he had saved the family of Hama the blacksmith, bringing to the gang a skilled artisan that many minor lords could only dream of employing.

Berion knew he could not simply execute all the bandit prisoners. Those with valuable skills, whose humanity was not wholly lost, could yet be won over—especially as his domain was in dire need of people, and particularly craftsmen such as blacksmiths.

Quade and his cohort all had wives and families, making them amenable to persuasion. Berion laid out his terms: he would guarantee the safety of them and their loved ones, and pardon their past crimes as bandits, provided they swore fealty to him and became his subjects. Quade and the others agreed without hesitation—not only spared, but granted legal status, an opportunity they had long dreamed of. None of them had ever wished to be outlaws; only desperation had driven them to such a life of constant fear.

Thus, in the castle courtyard, before the altar of the fire god and witnessed by all, Quade and his companions, with their families, swore allegiance to Berion. With this, Berion gained not only a dozen strong hands, but also a skilled blacksmith, at last solving Norlandburg’s lack of such a craftsman and breaking through a bottleneck in development.

After Quade and Hama had pledged themselves, Larr, knowing Berion would not spare his life, requested only that his name be remembered at Norlandburg, and that he not be handed over to the district lord. A man’s last plea is often pitiful, and in recognition of the wealth he had turned over, Berion resolved to grant him a swift end. But before his execution, a ceremony would be held.

The next day at noon, all of Norlandburg’s people gathered on the open ground outside the castle. Berion straightened his tunic and mounted a hastily assembled wooden platform. Looking down at the crowd, he spoke:

“You have followed me for three months now. We came from the warm shores of Lake Saint Martin to the cold northern forests, for one purpose: to possess a land where we may live well and with dignity! I promised you that you would want for nothing, and since you have joined me, I have kept that promise! I swore to protect you with my sword. These past days, I led you against hungry wolves and bandits, and I have kept that promise, too! I promised to lead you to a better life. Now, with the Blood Wolf gang vanquished and winter nearly past, we can at last build our domain in earnest. So long as you stand with me, I shall fulfill my pledge to give you all a good life.”

“Lord Berion! Lord Berion! Lord Berion!” The crowd erupted in cheers. For these former peasants and serfs, often cold and hungry, to follow a wise and courageous lord who cared for his people and could lead them to a better future was a blessing worth celebrating.

When the cheers had subsided, Berion continued, “In these recent battles, all who fought were valiant, and it is their courage that brought us victory. Yet, it grieves me to say, three good brothers have fallen in the fighting. They gave their lives to defend Norlandburg and protect us all, and we shall honor their memory forever! Not only that: each of their families will receive five pounds of grain every month from the lord’s residence, and an annual stipend of ten denars.

“In addition, their families are released from serfdom, and each household will be granted two acres of land to secure their livelihood!” Berion paused, then added, “Norlandburg shall not forget any who contribute to its prosperity!”

At these words, the crowd cheered louder than ever. Never had they imagined that fighting for their lord might bring not only pay, but that if they died, their families would benefit. Henceforth, there was little to fear in going to war for such a master—even should one fall, the lord would not let their family suffer.

Their commotion caught the attention of the mercenaries of the Free Company atop the city walls. A tall spearman turned to Grove and said, “Boss, Lord Berion truly is a remarkable lord. To be one of his people would be a blessing indeed.”

Grove nodded. “Indeed, such a master is worthy of one’s utmost loyalty.” Then, realizing the hidden implication in his companion’s words, he struck the man’s helmet with a laugh, “You little rascal, what’s that supposed to mean? Are you thinking of running off to join Lord Berion?”

The spearman chuckled, “If you hit me again, I just might! Who knows, maybe one day I’ll follow old Bess’s example and pledge myself to Lord Berion.”

Before he could finish, Grove kicked at him. Grinning, the tall mercenary dodged away. Grove watched his subordinate scurry off, shaking his head and smiling to himself, thinking, “If I could, I’d join a lord like Sir Berion myself. You can’t live forever on a mercenary’s wages, always dancing on a knife’s edge.”

Berion, unaware of what was happening on the ramparts, had just finished reading out the list of those who had distinguished themselves in battle. He was distributing rewards: ten, seven, and five denars according to merit, and every participant in the fighting received at least one denar. Nothing motivates like hard cash, Berion knew from his own time working in sales after leaving the army in his previous life—the best incentive was always a bonus in crisp bills, not empty promises. This, he believed, was why he chose to give cash rewards.

The results were just as he had hoped: the clinking of silver coins roused the soldiers who had fought to defend their home. Not only had they fought for their land, but now their lord rewarded them with silver—something they had hardly dared imagine.

Having finished his words and distributed the rewards, Berion turned to the next matter: the trial of the Blood Wolf gang. He ordered Larr and the other forty-odd prisoners brought forth and pronounced judgment:

“The Blood Wolf gang, led by Larr, has plagued Stagwood for many years, robbing and murdering more than a hundred travelers and merchants. Their crimes are unpardonable! I, Berion Tuck, lord of Norlandburg and inspector of the ducal district under the Duchy of Brick, now pronounce your sentence: Larr, as ringleader, is condemned to death and will be executed today. His head shall be sent to Amandin city and delivered to the district lord! The forty-five bandits under him are accomplices and deserve death; however, as their number is great, they shall be escorted to Amandin city for the district lord’s judgment.”

At his command, Bess and others dragged Larr to the execution block. The headsman was none other than Quade, the Blood Wolf gang’s number two. Berion chose him to test his loyalty and to force him to publicly sever ties with his former comrades. By killing his old chief, Quade would prove his break with the gang and his allegiance to Berion; henceforth, few would trust him if he ever tried to betray Berion. As the captured bandits saw Quade appointed as executioner, their eyes burned with hatred—if not for Quade’s betrayal, they would not have ended up as prisoners.

Quade understood Berion’s intent, but he had no grounds to refuse. He knew well that had he defied the order, he and his family would be counted among the prisoners, likely sent to labor in the ducal mines, where they would die wretchedly. Resolving himself, Quade picked up the great axe and struck off Larr’s head, then salted it with lime and placed it in a wooden box, ready for Berion to present to the district lord as proof of his accomplishment.