Volume One: The Forest Knight Chapter 65: Marriage Is Not Child’s Play

After Berion finished telling Gamlin everything, Gamlin was so astonished that his jaw nearly dropped. While he couldn’t be entirely certain that Dame Andy was indeed the only daughter of Count Gree, he felt it was highly likely. After all, who else could command so many of the count’s household knights? As these thoughts ran through his mind, Gamlin stared thoughtfully at Berion, making Berion’s scalp prickle with unease.

“If you have something to say, just say it. Staring at me like that in the dead of night is downright creepy,” Berion grumbled, his displeasure evident.

Upon hearing this, Gamlin immediately switched back to his earlier cheerful demeanor. Raising his cup, he clinked it against Berion’s and said, “Sir Berion, my good brother, this matter is both a blessing and a curse for you.”

“Oh? How so?” Berion asked, puzzled.

“If I’ve guessed correctly, Dame Andy should be Count Gree’s only child. He has no other heirs, so one day she’ll become the first Lady Count of our Brike. If you were to win her favor, the Tucker family could rise to the ranks of the most powerful noble houses in the western reaches of the Veylin continent,” Gamlin explained.

Berion shot him a look. “I can pretty much guess her identity myself. But I don’t harbor any illusions about such matters. Fame and fortune—I’ll rely on my own efforts to achieve those. Besides, she’s a count’s daughter; why would she ever take a liking to me? Ladies like her must hand out kerchiefs to knights like me all the time—casting a wide net to catch more fish.”

“Casting a wide net to catch more fish?” Gamlin repeated, mulling over the phrase. “That’s an interesting saying, and it makes sense. Still, I think you really ought to start considering marriage. After all, you’re nearly twenty now. When I was your age, I already had children. I’d wager you haven’t even been with a woman yet.”

Berion blushed at Gamlin’s words, then sighed. “I’m not in any rush about these things. I’ll think about it once Nolan Castle is a little more developed.”

But Gamlin wouldn’t let the matter drop. He suggested, “There are a few girls in my family around your age—nieces, by seniority. They’re all of noble birth and fair enough in appearance. If you’re willing, you could become our family’s son-in-law. That way, you wouldn’t be a rootless outsider in the northern lands anymore.”

Gamlin’s proposal was a genuine consideration for Berion’s future. At present, Berion enjoyed some renown in Brike, but he was still the son of a minor knightly house, a petty lord with modest lands. In contrast, Gamlin’s family had flourished in the north for generations, boasting viscounts, barons—both hereditary and non-hereditary—and a respectable number of knights. Becoming the in-law of such a family would provide Berion with powerful support and free him from worrying about Baron Raul’s family.

When Berion didn’t immediately refuse, but instead fell into thoughtful silence, Gamlin knew he’d struck a chord. He himself was eager to draw a promising young knight like Berion into the family; such an alliance could mean a formidable ally in the future.

Though the current times were still stable, Gamlin could sense faint tremors signaling coming unrest. In turbulent days, a knight with Berion’s prowess, tactical acumen, and grand ambition would surely achieve great things. If their families could unite by marriage, Berion’s glory would also become the family’s, perhaps even propelling them into the uppermost ranks of Brike’s nobility.

“Enough of that for now. Don’t dwell on it. Just wait for my arrangements. When the time comes, I’ll have you meet my nieces. If you take a liking to one, leave the rest to me,” Gamlin said, calculating internally but genuinely admiring the young man before him, who was more than a decade his junior.

Berion, hearing this, raised his cup and clinked it with Gamlin’s, draining it in one go, tacitly consenting to Gamlin’s designs for his marriage.

Seeing no objection from Berion, Gamlin was delighted. He kept Berion drinking until they finished off the wine, and a tipsy Berion made his way back to his carriage, where, lulled by the effects of alcohol, he soon fell into a deep sleep.

As they traveled along the Knight’s Road, the closer they came to Yawick Northkeep, the more palpable the festive atmosphere became. The roads grew crowded with merchants and travelers, and every so often, groups of three or five knights would gallop past.

Merchants and townsfolk alike were in high spirits. The merchants were pleased because the annual grand fair was their best opportunity for business; the more people, the greater their profits. The townsfolk heading to watch the tournament were equally jubilant—such a spectacle came but once a year, with knights from all over the Duchy of Brike converging to vie for the championship. Rumor had it that this year, knights from both Orien and Valendy would be joining the lists, promising an even livelier event.

Once inside Yawick Northkeep, Gamlin had a host of matters to attend to. He arranged for Berion and his personal guard to stay at a large courtyard near one of his own trading houses. Gamlin had purchased the place himself; besides serving as his residence in Yawick Northkeep, it also doubled as a warehouse.

At the moment, the goods had already been transported back to Amandine, so the house was empty—perfect for accommodating guests and storing the valuable items they had brought from Nolan Castle, such as soaps and colored pottery.

Berion was quite satisfied with Gamlin’s arrangements and decided to stay there rather than look for another place. In truth, with the city so crowded, he wouldn’t have found an inn large enough for his twenty-odd men. The influx of visitors had already filled every inn and rentable house to capacity; some even spread their bedding in the streets or slept in the city’s squares.

This beautiful, bustling seaside city already saw heavy traffic on a normal day; now, it was overflowing with people.

After Broda and Bran led the guards in cleaning the courtyard and rooms, Berion’s bedding and belongings were moved from the carriage into his room. By then, it was just past midday, and everyone had already eaten before entering the city. Berion gave his men leave to either nap or go out and explore.

But after so many days on the road, the soldiers were eager to rest and recover before venturing out; like their lord, they all chose to nap.

As the sun set, Berion, well-rested, got up, freshened himself, changed into clean clothes, and took Bran out to experience the splendors of Yawick Northkeep.

Before leaving, Berion handed Broda seven hundred denars—five hundred as travel allowance and battle pay for their participation in the campaign at Systown, twenty denars per guard, and the remaining two hundred as a bonus for their outstanding performance at Systown. Broda was in charge of distributing the funds.

Berion had always been generous in rewarding his men, especially given the wealth he’d acquired on this journey. Now that his brothers-in-arms had arrived in this prosperous city, he wanted them to enjoy themselves, and a little extra coin would go a long way.

No sooner had Berion stepped out than a chorus of cheers erupted from the courtyard—clearly, the men were thrilled to receive their bonuses.

After he and Bran enjoyed a lavish seafood dinner at an upscale tavern, they made their way to the commercial district near the tournament grounds. While dining, they’d overheard at the next table that, starting from today, the shops there would remain open around the clock, serving knights and visitors without pause.

It was this piece of news that prompted Berion to check it out. He never imagined that such a prosperous commercial scene could exist in these backward times—it was almost unbelievable.

By the time they reached the tournament grounds, the area was already packed. Fortunately, the city watch and garrison soldiers kept things orderly; despite the crowds, there was no chaos. It seemed Count Gree was indeed a shrewd ruler and a lord who understood commerce.

The two of them didn’t head toward the food stalls or the more raucous entertainment tents—having just eaten, and with Bran still a child, Berion had no desire to frequent such places.

Instead, they wandered into an armorer’s shop, one of the less crowded businesses. Yawick Northkeep, being the largest commercial city in northern Brike, boasted more blacksmiths—and finer craftsmen—than anywhere else.

Berion wanted to see for himself the quality of the armor and weaponry produced by the best in Brike, and perhaps even lure a seasoned smith or two away.

Upon entering, they found a fat merchant dozing behind the counter. He roused himself to greet them, but, learning they were just browsing, waved them on to look as they pleased, then resumed his seat, exhausted from a busy day and satisfied with his already considerable profits.

Berion wasn’t offended by the shopkeeper’s attitude; in fact, he preferred being left alone to peruse the wares without a loquacious attendant trailing after him. He was content to quietly see if anything caught his eye.

The shop’s selection was impressive: lances, swords, morningstars, battleaxes, daggers, as well as chainmail, hauberks, iron helms, leather armor—everything a warrior could need. The weapons were all of decent to high quality. Berion tried a few swords, morningstars, and axes from the shelves and found them well-balanced, confirming the shop’s good reputation.

When they reached the lance rack, Bran approached in awe, running his hand over the tournament lances. He had never witnessed a joust before, nor seen lances up close; he’d only heard of such tournaments from the tales of wandering minstrels. The chance to attend the grandest knightly tournament in northern Brike had him excited all journey long.

Bran, his hands trembling with excitement, asked, “Master, are these the lances used in the tournament? They look huge and heavy—how strong must someone be to wield such a weapon?”

Berion laughed. “Go ahead—pick one up. They only look big and heavy, but they’re actually quite light, made from applewood.”

Sure enough, when Bran tried, he found it easy to lift.

Seeing Bran’s confusion, Berion explained, “These lances are made specifically for tournaments. To create the thunderous sound of splintering wood and to reduce the recoil on impact, they’re crafted from wood that breaks easily. In real combat, most knights also use these breakable shafts, but they’re usually thinner for convenience. Some knights dislike tournament lances, since they have to carry so many shafts and they lose some of their killing power. Others prefer solid hardwood lances—though they require greater skill and horsemanship, their striking power is much greater, and they save the trouble of constantly replacing snapped shafts.”