Volume One: The Forest Knight Chapter 26: Training Troops and Building Foundations

“All adult men within the territory must undergo military training at least twice a week. From among them, select twenty-five to form a militia. They will not be separated from their regular work but will take turns guarding the walls and handling related duties. Barrett will serve as captain of the militia, with Gamlin as vice-captain, assisting Barrett in training and managing the unit. As for their weapons, the primary arms shall be longbows—they must become proficient archers. I do not expect them to charge into battle, only to defend their homeland. For close combat, arm them mainly with fighting axes and short spears. Except for the captain and vice-captain, the militiamen will be equipped with only leather armor.” Berion thus entrusted the militia to Barrett, a seasoned hunter, and Gamlin, who had served as constable and was skilled in arms.

“Yes, my lord!” Barrett and Gamlin rose and accepted the command.

“Both the standing army and the militia will be paid weekly. In the standing army, pikemen, sword-and-shield men, and crossbowmen will each receive twenty solis per week; halberdiers, the main force, will receive thirty solis per week. Additionally, squad leaders will get a five-solis weekly allowance, while the captain and vice-captain receive one denar and eighty solis per week, respectively.

The militia, since they remain at their daily tasks and their duties are lighter, will be paid less: five solis per week for a regular militiaman, with squad leaders receiving an extra two solis, the captain fifty, and the vice-captain thirty solis per week. In wartime, the standing army’s pay will be doubled; militia who go to the battlefield will receive a third of a regular soldier’s pay, but their rewards for meritorious deeds will be equal. Does anyone have concerns about this pay system?” Berion explained his plan for the soldiers’ compensation—after all, security breeds loyalty.

Although Berion’s wages were not high, they were above average for the times, so no one raised objections.

“Gamlin, your son Bran is not only skilled but also courageous. He protected his mother and sister with his life—I am much impressed. I would like him to serve as my squire. What do you think?” Seeing that no one objected to the pay, Berion moved on to other matters.

Gamlin’s heart swelled with joy at these words. While he’d served as constable, he’d longed to send his son to squire for a knight, hoping that, with effort, Bran might one day earn a knighthood. But there were too few reliable knights in the shire, and most only accepted squires from noble or knightly families—a barrier Gamlin had tried in vain to overcome. Now, however, the lord of Norland Castle had not only saved his family but wished to take his son as squire. Gamlin could scarcely contain his happiness.

“My lord, it is not only Bran’s good fortune, but the honor of our entire family. I will have Bran present himself to you shortly,” Gamlin replied excitedly.

“Hahaha, have him come at dinner, and bring Tur as well. I will formally make them my squires,” Berion said with a smile.

After concluding the matters of military organization, Mark stood and spoke: “My lord, we must also address land reclamation and castle construction. Spring is here; the snow has melted, weeds are just sprouting—now is the best time to break new ground. If we can clear several hundred acres before summer, we can plant soybeans, vegetables, pumpkins, and so on by late June. Come autumn, our grain stores will be fuller, and after the harvest, we can sow wheat for next year’s crop.” Mark paused and glanced at Berion, who nodded encouragement.

“That’s the issue of opening new land, essential for our food supply. But Norland Castle also faces a housing shortage. As you’ve seen, only a few of the serfs who arrived from the shire have squeezed into houses; most must stay in tents outside. It is fortunate the weather has warmed—otherwise, our hard-won people might suffer frostbite or even death, which would hurt morale and hinder the long-term development of Norland Castle.” Mark grew impassioned. Berion watched him and thought appointing Mark to civil affairs was a wise choice.

“Even those inside are not well off. In winter, crowding kept them warm, but as the weather heats up, it will become unbearable. My lord, we urgently need new houses, but there’s little space left within the castle walls—it was, after all, just a watchpost before,” Mark said.

Berion stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Mark, do you have any suggestions?”

“My lord, I propose relocating some of the freemen and serfs to found villages outside, where they can cultivate the land and ease the overcrowding in the castle.” Mark’s solution was immediate; he had clearly considered this problem.

Berion frowned. “Mark, your idea is good, but you haven’t considered three issues. First, freemen are few and mostly from Frond Town—no problem there. But these serfs have only been with me a short time, and outside lies the Stagwood. Can you guarantee they won’t run off into the forest and become vagrants or bandits?”

Mark’s brow furrowed—he had not thought of that.

“Second, even castles with knights and mercenaries have been attacked. Villages without walls or guards would be even more vulnerable—to raiders and wild beasts. Do you remember the wolf attacks last winter? If a village is assaulted, casualties would be heavy, wouldn’t they?”

“Third, I have made enemies of Baron Raul and his son of Lidarburg, having seized their ship and goods. They may not know yet, but surely they will suspect Norland Castle. If they incite another lord to private war against us, what’s the first thing our enemies would burn? The villages.” With each point, Mark’s brow creased deeper.

Mark, seeing Berion’s smile, admitted, “My lord, I was foolish; my idea will not do. What do you suggest?”

Berion poured him a cup of wine and bade him sit. “Food and shelter are essential. Thanks to our latest windfall, we need not fear hunger, but stable, ample farmlands are vital for our future. Reclaiming land is urgent, and so is building a true castle—what we call a castle now is but a watchpost, and in people’s eyes, it is no lord’s hold. Building a larger, stone castle is essential.”

“With our current population, though, we cannot accomplish these things quickly. At a gathering in Amondine with the sheriff and local lords, I heard them speak of the problem of vagrants—and I thought of a solution.”

“Oh? What is it, my lord?” Eomer asked curiously.

Berion grinned. “Well, we know little of the north. Winters here are harsh, and grain yields are lower than in the south. Each winter, many peasant farmers and serfs flee with their families, seeking work in the forests or cities. Running from one’s lord is a serious crime—if caught, one risks the lash and loss of all property.”

“But if a lord punishes them, his people will not dare return. Who will harvest the summer fields? Who will pay his taxes? Therefore, most lords do not punish those who return before the harvest.”

“Having survived the winter, these vagrants usually seek work in towns or with lords in need of labor, saving for two or three months to have a little cash and grain for their families. After paying their own lord’s taxes, they hope to survive the next winter a little better.”

“I see, my lord! You wish to recruit these vagrants to help us reclaim land and build our castle and houses!” Mark exclaimed, rising in excitement.

“Exactly,” Berion confirmed. “We seized much wealth from the Blood Wolf Bandits, and this last trip to Waterside Town brought in over three thousand denars. Money means nothing unless spent—we can hire workers and speed the work. Why not?”

“A splendid idea!” others agreed enthusiastically.

“With everyone’s support, I will allocate one thousand denars to Mark. Eomer, you will escort him to Amondine and exchange all the money for copper coins—that will give us half a million solis. We’ll offer strong laborers half a pound of black bread and five solis a day, plus two meals of grain porridge, to attract the vagrants to work for us.”

“Yes, my lord!” Mark and Eomer replied.

Hearing this, Larr couldn’t help but gasp, “My lord, isn’t that too high? Normally, five solis and two meals of porridge a day is already a job people fight for!”

“I know it’s above market rate,” Berion explained, “but we’re so remote—without high wages, few will come. Most importantly, I hope to draw the vagrants and serfs to stay in Norland Castle. We need people desperately.”

Berion raised his wine cup and drank. “Gentlemen, there is much to do. You will all have to work hard in the coming days.”

“To serve you is our honor!” came the unanimous reply.

When all the matters had been discussed, it was already evening. Berion announced the feast’s beginning. With clear goals and defined tasks, everyone was in high spirits—for they saw hope. Hope is a fine thing, perhaps the finest—the best things should endure forever.

As the feast reached its height, Gamlin brought his son Bran to Berion’s side. Only half-sober, Berion remembered his intention to take Bran as his squire. He stood, called Tur over, and gazed at the two boys, fourteen or fifteen years old, with delight.

“I’m not much older than you two,” Berion said, “but I have more experience and skills to teach. Before I appoint you as my squires, I have a few questions.”

At this, Tur and Bran tensed. Berion saw their anxiety and smiled. “No need to be nervous—I won’t eat you. First question: are you afraid of death?”

“Not afraid!” Tur replied instantly.

Bran hesitated, then also answered, “Not afraid!”

Gamlin’s face fell at his son’s hesitation, fearing Berion would disapprove.

“It’s good not to fear death—but we must respect it. Why are we unafraid? If it is for honor, or to protect family and friends, then not fearing death is admirable. But if it’s for selfish gain, such fearlessness is not bravery but villainy. I want you to be brave men, not reckless fools. Can you do that?”

“We can!” they replied in unison.

“Good. Second question: will you swear lifelong loyalty to me, never to betray?”

“Tur (Bran) swears eternal loyalty to my lord. Should I break my oath, may demons drag me to hell!”

Berion nodded with satisfaction. “The last question is important, too—can you endure hardship? With me, you’ll face strict training and much drudgery. If you cannot, you won’t do.”

“Don’t worry, my lord, I can endure anything,” Tur said cheerfully.

Bran, not to be outdone, added, “I’m not afraid of hardship either, my lord. As long as I can follow you, no hardship is too great.”

“Hahaha, excellent! I declare that, from this moment, Tur and Bran are my squires!” Berion proclaimed before all.

“We swear eternal loyalty, my lord!” the two boys knelt, right fists to chests, and pledged.

After they rose, Mark said, “Tur, Bran, from now on, you must call him ‘master,’ not ‘lord.’ Understood?”

“Yes, Uncle Mark,” Bran replied.

“It should be ‘Brother Mark’—he’s not that old,” Tur corrected him.

Everyone laughed heartily at their exchange.

Berion laughed along, then took two pouches from his coat. “Here, a welcome gift for you both—take them.”

Bran and Tur happily accepted the pouches—five or six silver coins each by their weight. They knelt to give thanks, but Berion quickly helped them up and invited them to the table, forbidding wine. He considered them minors—unfit even for weak drink. But to everyone, he explained that they had not yet earned the right to drink with their elders; only after three years of learning and meritorious service would they join in the toasts.

The already lively banquet grew even more so with the addition of the squires. Berion could not escape the revelry and was carried, thoroughly drunk, to his room.

The next morning, Berion descended from the second floor, still bleary-eyed, intent on washing up. He found Tur and Bran, neatly dressed, waiting in the great hall. Seeing him, they hurried to bring water for his face. Berion felt a little awkward—they were only three or four years younger than he—but as custom required, he accepted their service. Once he understood this, he began to appreciate the life of being attended by squires.