The Elder Lands - Chapter 56

The Empire was all but defeated by the time the newfound sovereignties turned their sights upon the encroaching danger of the seafolk. A pact was formed and borders drawn after prolonged deliberations that Hamodeus shrewdly aided and encouraged. It was only then that a united effort to drive off the Mer truly began.

• Moralia Kid, ‘A History of The Fall’

The chill of a passing breeze invaded Lucan’s body as he sat reading by the window. The signs of an encroaching winter were showing themselves in land and sky. It had been two months since they’d returned from the border, and autumn had taken summer’s place. The winter wheat was sown, and the farmers were hunkering down for the season of sloth.

He closed the book and stood up to peer through the window, catching sight of the works down around the bailey. Sawyer had wisely had the laborers finish any digging needed before the soil could harden. The engineer had assured him that any trenches not filled in before winter wouldn’t be flooded with water. He’d supposedly made certain they could funnel off their water into the canal.

Now the laborers were working on the buildings requested within the expansion and leaving the trench of the soon-to-be-built palisade for last. They would work into the early winter, but it would eventually get too cold to continue working.

Lucan spied movement that he couldn’t quite make out near the bailey’s drawbridge, though he could guess at what it was. He left his study in a hurry, hoping to catch the last merchant to leave their territory and bid the man farewell.

He took the stairs down, left the keep, and carefully navigated the walkway between their motte and the bailey. Then, once again, he walked with haste, heading towards the gate.

He was surprised to find old Thomas there, he too seeing the merchant off. Beside the steward were Heath, Ryder, and Clifton prepared to offer an escort to the tradesman. Lucan had arranged for that more than a month ago, when one of the traveling merchants had been waylaid by brigands from the eastern forest. It appeared that matters in the Shattered Kingdom were getting worse with the cold instead of better. Deserters and refugees were leaking into the forest despite Sir Ryder and Sir Upton’s best efforts.

“Ainsley, departing already?” Lucan asked the slight man who was loading up his goods onto a cart pulled by a lone but healthy mule.

“Ah, Master Lucan!” the merchant hauled his last sack onto the cart and turned around with a jovial smile. His skin was toned from days spent working under the sun, and he had a small notch under his eye that could nary be called a scar. “A pleasure to see you on such a fine day. It has been a fruitful visit, but yes, I must leave, for one shouldn’t tempt winter.”

Lucan mimed a regretful sigh and nodded. “I suppose it is a must. Hopefully, we will see you again soon.”

Ainsley laughed. “You will hardly miss me, Master. Before the skies fully clear, you’ll find me here once more. I’m not one to stay still for long.”

“My men would be happy to escort you,” Lucan said, side-eyeing his three men-at-arms who looked anything but happy in this chilly weather.

“No need. I will be taking the road west then north. The way is safe in that direction. Much gratitude for the offer.”

Lucan raised a quizzical brow. The merchant was the first to reject his offer, though he was also one of the few due west instead of east in their travels. Lucan had also heard Ryder once speaking of receiving coin in gratitude from one of the lone merchants they’d escorted, before Clifton had shushed him. Perhaps Ainsley was concerned about such an expectation from him?

Lucan shrugged. “As you wish. Safe travels, my friend.”

The merchant bowed slightly. “It’s an undeserved honor to be considered your friend, Master Lucan.”

Lucan had only said it in passing, but it wouldn’t hurt to be remembered fondly by the merchant. He nodded to the man and said, “Farewell.”

“Farewell,” Ainsley said before hopping onto his cart and urging his mule onward.

As the cart trudged forward then farther and farther away, Lucan couldn’t help but sigh. There would be no more merchants until spring. He had begun to get used to their presence, and more of them was always better than less. They were no fools, nor were they kind, but they were useful to those who knew their worth. Cities like Arpague valued them little, since too many of them to count visited there. But the Duke would be wise to remember that they were the true source of his wealth.

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“What do you suppose merchants spend their coin on?” Lucan asked no one in particular.

There was a brief pause before he heard Ryder’s voice.

“More trading…?”

He turned to give the man-at-arms a level look only to find him already being stared down by an exasperated Clifton.

Another voice distracted him, Heath’s.

“Home? A family?” The tall man-at-arms said with uncertainty.

Thomas hummed in agreement.

“I suppose,” Lucan said. Wouldn’t it be good if they spent that coin here? He glanced at the expanding bailey. “What would it take for them to bring that home and family here though?”

Thomas hummed again, this time voicing the answer himself, “Safety. Certainty that they won’t be stripped of their wealth. Merchants spend their lives under the ethereal threat of their coin being appropriated by nobles, for war or just for greed’s sake. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen.”

Lucan found himself astonished at the thought. He knew that merchants were often guarded about their wealth, but in all the histories he’d read, he’d never heard of merchants having their wealth seized, unless it was for treason, which would have had anyone’s wealth seized for that matter. But when he thought about it, it was certain to have happened, only it was not likely to have been inked down in written history when it happened.

“And they take this in silence?” Lucan couldn’t help but ask.

“They used to have their guilds to protect their interests. There was even one in Eldham,” Thomas said. “But after the rise of the Union, the throne had it disbanded.”

“So all it takes is a promise of safety for themselves and their possessions and they will come,” Lucan said.

The steward shook his head with a wry smile. “It’s not so simple, I’m afraid. A noble’s promise means little when the only one to hold them to it is themselves. The merchants are well aware that your promise would only carry them as long as you’re pleased with them. And there are other considerations.”

Lucan deflated. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. There seemed to be even more complications if he ever wished to permanently host the merchants here. “What other considerations?”

“The merchants rely on word of mouth in their work. A good deal of it. A web of friendships, partnerships, relations, and even marriages tie them together in the bigger cities. To leave that and come here would be tantamount to sacrificing all that, and for what? The frigid winds of winter? A settlement that is close to both the threat of the Wildermen and the instability of the Shattered Kingdom?” The old steward shook his head, letting Lucan know his stance on the matter. Then he glanced meaningfully at the three men-at-arms who were still present. They seemed to understand, marching away promptly.

“I don’t mean to discourage you,” Thomas said. “If you wish to try it, I don’t see much harm. But you will have to provide a worthy incentive.”

Lucan gave him an understanding nod. “At least I now have something to think about through the winter,” he said with a chuckle.

Thomas hummed agreeably. “We’re doing well. You are doing well. Even with the expenses of the laboring refugees and their families, I expect us to gain a respectable amount of coin come spring.”

Lucan nodded again with more cheer. They had a barely acceptable amount of coin in their coffers now, though it was worthy of satisfaction since they had been sliding into ruin before the end of summer. Spring would come with its own bounty. Aside from the grain harvest, they had also stockpiled some of their salt for Master Saltner’s arrival. Lucan didn’t want the man’s caravan to come and find nothing to buy but grain. There would be salt, wine, and hopefully enough silver to satisfy them.

“Does father still insist on building a granary?” he asked.

“Yes,” Thomas said. “It will take some effort–”

“And coin,” Lucan interrupted. “It’s the first time I’ve seen him eager to expend it on something.”

“He sees it as a worthy venture,” Thomas said. “As do I. You can never be too safe, I believe. Famine often strikes without warning.”

Lucan couldn’t disagree. “I suppose it wouldn’t become famine if men could expect it.”

“Indeed.”

Lucan gazed at the canal, its waters still having not risen. It often rose with the advent of winter, but the rains must have not begun in the south yet.

“You ought to get to a hearth,” Lucan said. “The chill must be crawling through your bones by now.”

Thomas chuckled. “I’m not so old yet. But I do have work to do.”

Lucan turned and gave him a sincere smile. Both he and his father knew how much the man’s old bones worked for their betterment. His father hadn’t told him much about their history aside from implying that Thomas’s loyalty came from a profound sense of gratitude. Still, Lucan wasn’t the owner of whatever debt Thomas was grateful for, so he had to appreciate the old man’s selfless efforts.

Thomas returned his smile before turning around and marching towards the keep.

Lucan turned back towards the south. From there, the frigid winds would soon come, and everyone would have to shelter themselves from its might. It would be a slow and quiet season, but at least his father would let him read in peace.