Reincarnated As A Peasant - Book 2 Chapter 24: Blood

Landar

It didn’t take us long to find the main road that would lead us to the minor gate house. The main road and courtyard we came to near the wall were paved with sturdy bricks, unlike the side roads to the tenement blocks which were mainly gravel. I knew from having seen other side gates before that there would normally be a small green space where families would gather on seventh days and militia members would drill during times of war.

Where it normally would have been was instead a large dirt pit with dozens of boxes. Guards in lackluster clothing and ill kept armor patrolled the perimeter of the small dirt yard.

Anywhere else, there would have been a small city-run, and taxed, market opposite the green. Instead I found a bricked yard with half a dozen broken carts in various stages of disrepair.

Among these broken vehicles and atop them, sat teenagers and older youths most carrying lengths of wooden club or metal pipe. Some few had proper knives, but most of the young men and women I saw looked like they barely knew how to use them.

On the far side of the courtyard, opposite us was the gate house. It was a small affair, with the door leading out of the gate being recessed behind dozens of raised reinforced metal gates that had been raised and looked like they had very rarely been lowered. Visible rust patches made me grind my teeth.

These secondary entrances were meant for minor traffic, and were designed for the regular citizenry of the city to have easy access in and out of the walls for daily work and harvesting activities.

Half a dozen guards in barely recognizable uniforms carried spears in lazy hands that looked like they barely knew how to use them. Mingling among them were another handful of men and women who were clearly anything but city guards.

“That’s a lot of men, lad.” Gragon said as he rolled his neck and worked out the kinks in his shoulders and neck. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“Let’s see if we can avoid violence. At least, for now.” I was a diplomat after all, if I didn’t at least try diplomacy what kind of person would that make me?

I walked forward into the center of the courtyard, Gragon a few steps behind me watching my back. Yolanda had disappeared and I didn’t blame her in the least. More than likely violence was about to take place. The kind she would be best served by not getting involved in.

“Hail the gate!” I yelled as I made my way towards the gate house.

The young people stirred, and some jerred me, but when they got a glimpse at my ax, and more importantly the powerful looking dwarf who was wielding a maul whose head was the size of their chests as if it were nothing but a twig, they quickly backed down. Whoever served as leadership among the runts of the little gang that had invested this quarter of the city started pulling their teenage lackies into the abandoned warehouses that served as their living arrangements. Getting their people away from the violence.

Smart, I thought. Wouldn’t want to face Gragon either.

“Hail the Gate Guards!” I yelled, giving my best impression of my father. My voice carried well, but I was still a light baritone compared to his booming base.

A man with most of his uniform on, the standard issue studded wooden officers club on his hip and spear in his hand stood up from where he had been lounging with the other guards, and took a step forward.

“Who hails the gate house?” He said back, concern in his voice. I could tell he wasn’t concerned about me, but who I might be acting as Harold for. I was wearing clean and well kept if not super high priced clothes after all. Not a noble in his mind, but someone who served one. Perhaps.

“Are you the gate officer then?” My voice rang over the cobblestones, as the thieves and languid guards started getting up to support their leader. A man in decent clothes, similar to my own, with a wicked looking long knife at his hip stepped forward and whispered into the officer’s ear.

The officer nodded, then addressed me again. “Aye, I am Lieutenant Osfold. I didn’t know there was an inspection today.”

“Inspection? No. I come to lodge an official complaint on behalf of my drudges and servants who live in this quarter.”

Osfold scoffed and smiled wickedly. “You’re no nobles brat. These are city tenements anyway.” He pointed towards the communities that rose behind me.

“I take offense to that, Lieutenant Osfold.” The man’s smile disappeared and was replaced with a scowl. His men were now all standing at their posts, weapons in hand, watching me like wolves ready to pounce on an injured deer. Most of the others, the gangsters and rogues that had been mingling and dicing with the guards, were gone now. Scattered.

Probably getting behind me, and seeing if any reinforcements are on their way to help me.

“Brat, you better watch your words.”

“That is the second time, Lieutenant Osfold, that you have demeaned me and my station while I was on official business of complaint against this gate house. I was hoping we could settle the issue of you charging my charges for use of a city provided resource.” I motioned towards the gate as I pulled off my work gloves, and placed them in the satchel around my shoulders. I then pulled the satchel off, and placed it on the ground.

“I do not take lightly to such actions. But I was hoping we could figure out what miscommunication, or misunderstanding had caused this breach of city, and Dukal law. But now, before that can be resolved, I am afraid that a matter of honor must be satisfied.”

“You, want to duel me?” Osfold’s smirk returned. “You’re big, kid. And probably strong. And maybe you are some nobles basterd or something, hells that might be right. But I’ve been a guard for five years. And I haven’t risen to officer status for nothing.”

He walked forward, doffed his coat in the cold, and did a rather impressive spear display which ended with the point directed right at my heart some fifteen feet away.

“Impressive. But no. I will not duel you. That would be . . . unfair. On more Levels, then one.” I emphasized the word Level, and I saw doubt in the man’s eyes return. I was, after all, level 6.

Though my System kept reclassifying me every few hours. Either giving me a jump or demotion in rank. My abnormal cultivation foundation had apparently screwed with the standardized methodology the kingdom used, but as it calibrated my mind spirit had assured me he’d get a proper reading in a few days. Maybe a week or more if things were really screwed up. And yes, I had begun thinking of my mind spirit as a he, as I’d only ever met someone with his level of snark in the military back home on Earth.

And my sister Elsbeth of course, when she was in the mood. But family doesn’t count.

“Instead, I’ll be having my hireman fight for me. He is both my guard, and a craftsman of my house. You should be honored that I’d risk such a valuable asset to show you what your duty is.”

“Valuable asset?” Gragon asked under his breath.

“Just go with it. I need to sound like a pompous ass, or the others won’t buy it.”

“Pompous is right, boy. But alright.”

“Thank you.” I turned my attention back to Osfold’s smug expression.

“I’ve killed dwarves before, kid. Ain’t going to bother me any.”

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“Alright, rules. First blood, or capitulation. Which is it?” I asked, hoping he’d choose the first option. He was an officer in the city watch after all. And I really didn’t want to cause my father trouble by having to send an officer back to the central district with every bone in his body broken.

“Kid, I already said I’d kill your dwarf for you.” Osfold’s tone was deeply disrespectful, as was the sneer on his face.

Shit, I thought but before I could intercede Gragon stepped past me his hammer raised.

“Death it is!” Gragon roared and charged forward, his maul swinging faster than it had any right to.

Osfold’s spear lashed out, but the dwarves hammer swept it aside and pinned it against the stone. Osfold tried to kick Gragon away, but the dwarf saw the kick coming, and returned it with a healmated headbutt.

The sound of crunching unarmored bones meeting the heavy steel helmet of a dwarven caravan guard resounded off the stones and seemed to reverberate like an echo.

Then came the snapping of wood clean in half, as Osfold’s spear broke under the heavy hammer’s weight.

I had to give Osfold some credit though, he didn’t give up. He pulled his club next, and brought it down right on Gragon’s helm, and again the dwarf simply took the hit and the club cracked. A second hit broke it in two.

“Well, that would have had me seeing stars!” Gragon shouted. “If I wasn’t wearing me helmet!”

Gragon’s hammer swept out and took both the man’s legs out from under him. The snapping and crunching of bones was almost sickening, and I felt my stomach lurch. Several of Osfold’s men did lose their lunch.

“That’ll teach ya boy. Don’t be so hasty to dismiss the small folk.”

Osfold’s voice was filled with pain. “Kill me, finish it!” He practically begs. “No healer will fix this. Don’t . . . don’t have the money.” He was growing weaker as blood from the multiple compound fractures in his legs seeped into the stone under him. “Pl-please.”

“Nah boy. I ain’t goin to kill ya. You’re just dumb. No use killing dumb people, more will come and be dumb if there’s no one already fillin the role they can look to and see what dumb looks like.”

Gragon backed away, and let me approach. I kneeled down next to him as blood seeped around my knees and started soaking into my clothes. “You’re going to live. And you’re going to go see my father. See, you put this entire city at risk by not managing this gate properly. I can see the rust on the hinges there, for the grate-guards? Yeah, those aren’t going to be able to close in an emergency.” I shook my head. “There’s a lot of work that needs to be done now, all because you didn’t do your job. And your men, well. Those that aren’t totally worthless, they now have their careers marred by the fact they served under someone like you. A borderline traitor who allowed money to cloud his judgment.”

“Please,” He asked his voice quiet. I could tell he was going into shock.

I shook my head. “No.” I reached into my bag, pulled out a healing potion untopped it, and forced him to drink it. He tried to fight me, but in his weakened state, and with both adrenaline, rage, and mana flowing through my body it was like an insect trying to stop a powerlifter. “See, once you’ve spoken with him, you’ve been tried, and knocked down a few rungs on the caste system? Maybe even lose your spouse and family if you have one, and if the courts are merciful to them so they don’t suffer your same fate? Once you’re a drudge, like those you exploited, or even if you didn’t do it directly, those you allowed to be exploited? Then, once you’ve learned what it’s like to be them. Then, maybe, maybe, you might have a chance at redemption. But right now? You’re going to live.”

I stood as I saw the flesh heal around his exposed bones. He’d have to undergo excruciating, and rather primitive surgery just to be able to walk again. But in a world filled with magic, what was a truly crippling injury back on earth? Was possible to heal. If given enough resources.

“You three,” I pointed at a trio of the guards who were wearing the closest to proper uniforms. “Take him to the central district. Tell them Landar Gaudhaus requests a healer for him, and then to put him in restraints on charges of treason. I’ll be by later to see it done, and if it’s not? I’ll find all three of you, and your families, and you will suffer this same fate.” Their faces went pale white. “Understood?”

A chorus of “yes sir,” and “yes m’lord.” came from the trio, before they grabbed a shabby, moth eaten gernie from inside the small gate house, and started taking their former boss to the central district.

I watched as they left, and felt guilt eat at my heart. I was bluffing of course, I might have visited them. But I’d never touch someone’s family. The fact that Osfold’s family was potentially going to suffer the same fate as his bothered me deeply. But then again, that was the system here in this world. One I hoped to one day change, perhaps. But one I didn’t have the power to change. Yet.

“The rest of you. My name is Landar Gaudhaus. I am the son of now Knight-Captain Gaudhaus of the city watch.” I left off my grandfather, because the look of utter terror on the faces of the remaining guards was more than enough.

“You will do your duty now, and every day going forward until a new officer comes here to lead you. And when they do, you will obey them as if the very wrath of God rested with every word they speak. Understood?”

I got nodes of agreement.

“I said, Understood!”

“Yes sir!” The chorus came, and they saluted fist over heart.

I stopped myself from wincing. I wasn’t, technically, a member of the city watch. But, I was a noble now. What kind of noble I wasn’t sure. My father was technically minor nobility, being a knight. But my mother was now the adopted daughter of the Arc-Duke. And both came from extremely humble origins. So . . . what did that make me?

“Choose two of you at a time to patrol the main street. The rest of you will stay on guard at this post until either someone from the central district comes to relieve you, or I return. Dismissed!”

I put more than a little of the old drill sergeants from my time in the Army in my voice, and they scrambled to get to their posts.

As I turned my back on the gate and began walking back towards the tenements, I saw dozens of eyes spying out from behind corners, windows, curtins, and crates. Young, old, all gang members if I had my guess.

“Why do you trust’em to do their duty now?” Gragon asked, as he cleaned his hammer’s head of blood and gore.

“What, the guards?” He nodded. “Ah well. Us humans like to think we’re independently minded, and that we’re liable for our own actions. But honestly, most of us, something like eighty to ninety percent of us, have personality types that will willingly follow any order they think is given by someone who is above them in a hierarchy. That is unless they have training and indoctrination to counter that. Even then, it only goes to something like half of us. That half will do anything anyone in authority over us says, even if we know it’s wrong, immoral, or stupid.”

“Even if you know better?”

I nodded as we walked. “Yup. Even if we know deep down it’s wrong. About half of those who’d obey would rebel in minor ways. Sabotage, letting a prisoner go, or undermining the efforts of a leader they think is doing wrong. Only about a quarter of us would do it both willingly, and blindly. Even those though, are only allowing themselves to be blinded so they can get through it without horrific mental scars. The same reason many who are pushed to it, become thieves or brigands. ‘They deserve it’ or ‘they won’t miss it.’ They lie to themselves to get through it. It’s what some people call sociopathic behavior. They train themselves to turn off their conscience so they can survive doing what they’re doing. It can also be caused by evil things other people do to them, or by chronically difficult circumstances like extreme poverty, hunger, or war. But in many cases they socialize themselves into it.”

“So they’re just victims then?” The old dwarf grumbled, clearly dissatisfied.

“Yes and no. Depends on the person. Most people who would be at risk of becoming a sociopath never end up becoming one. Either because they are able to find a solution, they heal, or their personality changes over time and with experience. Sociopaths are those among that quarter of us who have personalities willing to obey, or justify wrong, and then who do it for prolonged periods of time. They tend to be erratic, and impulsive, rather than truly evil. And they’re terrible at leading others, and aren’t very good at controlling themselves.”

“That doesn’t make sense. I’ve seen some really dark humans out there, boy. Evil, true evil. Those that lead others with a dark whitt and mind. Not just those who are pushed to do wrong by necessity or under threat.” The dwarf grumbled and put his hammer away. “Not that humans have a monopoly on evil kin. My own people have enough troubles there.”

“I understand. That exists too. There’s about one, or two out of every hundred of us that would be not only willing but enthusiastic about obeying orders to do things like torture an inmate, or brutalize civilians. Those are what we would call psychopaths. Some of them would do it out of a sick sense of pleasure, others would only see it as a necessity. Others, with proper education, would understand that doing so would be wrong and avoid it if possible. But would feel no emotional turmoil if they were forced to behave that way. It’s just . . . part of humanity. We’re social creatures, and while sociopaths are a problem, those with that personality trait are very useful to the culture as a whole. And even psychopaths can be very useful, if given the right training and put in the right positions. It’s uh . . . it’s a touchy subject. Most people don’t even know about it really . . .”

My words trailed off as I realized I was giving my armchair psychology knowledge from earth to a dwarf who was about as loyal to humanity as a snake was to a bird. He liked me well enough, but if that information got back to those with less scruples or reasons to leave humanity alone? It actually could cause real issues.

Strategic assassination came to mind, much like what the US participated in during the cold war. Trying to find the right dictator, with the right personality type that would be amenable to working with the US. No matter how brutally they behaved towards their own people.

It was one of the darker moments in US history.

“So . . . what bout them then? What do you think they all are?”

“I’m guessing, but. I think they’re probably in the group just keeping their heads down to survive. You saw how they all went pale at the violence, right?” The dwarf nodded. “Those reactions are difficult to fake. Not impossible mind you, but very difficult. With the right leader, they’ll more than likely become good guards again.”

As long as I figure out how to deal with the organized criminal element that is. Otherwise, the entire gate house could easily become corrupt again.