The Elder Lands - Chapter 62

Mosse arranged his most attention-grabbing goods on the counter. The inside of the shop was still a ripe mess, but he’d closed it off entirely with the counter until he had it in good order. His wife was still back in Epiza with her mother. He’d only bring her over when the place was ready, for she was with child. He was owed gratitude by the master of a small caravan that would ascertain her safe arrival when it was time.

For now, he had to make certain that this venture of his didn’t go to waste and ruin their family. The house hadn’t cost him too much. He’d bought it from a widower whose fortunes had provided him a new home and a large inn at that. The man had a hardworking young son, and Mosse wished him well.

Finding this readily-built establishment was his own fortune. As it already had a front that had been used as a make-do drinking corner, he hadn’t had to do a lot of work, and though the home was a small one, he wouldn’t need too much for only himself, his wife, and their coming child.

The knight who lorded over this fief didn’t seem to be the overbearing sort. He’d spoken with his steward, and they seemed to be keeping to the King’s established taxes for the South, which would further soften any pains Mosse had to suffer through this venture. He’d burned through most of his coin for this, and his wife had nagged him about the peril that threatened their family should he fail, but he had been insistent. It was a better life for them, and their coming child. Epiza was a fine town, but the opportunities there had all been eaten and shat out decades ago. He wouldn’t slave in another man’s establishment for pittance anymore. He had the skills and the knowledge to succeed, and he would use them, may the Elders help him and the gods be blind to him.

The settlement was thankfully walled, even if said walls were now being rebuilt to accommodate new buildings. Word of Wildermen raids had flooded the trade routes, including the ones that passed by Epiza, and Mosse had been concerned about the danger of moving closer to the border. But with walls to at least give him and his family the promise of safety and a knight to fulfill it, he was content. The Wildermen often went for small villages and unwalled settlements if what he’d heard was true. A walled and well-defended settlement like this one would waste too much of their time. Mosse felt for the people in the outlying villages of this estate should the Wildermen make it so far into the kingdom.

Regardless, he had work to do and a reputation to build. All he had to accomplish now was attracting the attention of the folk who lived here. Household items for the women, trinkets and toys for the children, and tools for the men. A bit of everything would be on display, but not too much lest it look like clutter. Soon enough, he’d see his first customer. That was his first concern. Then later he could think of the traveling merchants and the relationships he’d have to make to maintain a tight grip on his prices.

As though the Elders had heard his thoughts, he saw a finely dressed young man approaching his shop. He was the same height as him but more wiry while Mosse was a bit pudgy. The young man had his chestnut hair swept back and seemed inquisitive rather than interested in the goods on display. He didn’t mind entertaining the first one to approach his shop. It was good luck to sell to the first soul into your shop in the morning, even if you had to cut down on your prices just for that one. The wily patrons back in Epiza knew to always visit the shops early, though it was difficult to be the first one.

“May I interest you in some of my goods, young man?” Mosse said, gesturing at the goods on his counter. “This is only a small offering of what I have inside. Whatever you may need, I dare claim that I have it.”

The young man presented him with a reserved smile. “Oh, I don’t mean to disappoint you but I’m not here to buy any of your goods.”

Mosse deflated but didn’t give in just yet. “Surely I can find something to pique your interest?” Eying the young man’s neat attire, he ventured a suggestion. “Perhaps a dagger with a beautifully crafted hilt to go with your belt?”

“While I wouldn’t dislike an ornate dagger to wear on my belt, I must disappoint you again. I have my own.”

Mosse’s face couldn’t help but twitch. To fail to fulfill his calling at first light and on his first day here…that was cause for worry. He rapped on the wood of his counter twice, praying for protection from the gods. Perhaps he should go to the temples for a simple ward. No, there were no temples here. Damnation.

“I was wondering what your name was,” the young man said. “Thomas didn’t tell me. Or to be more fair, he didn’t get a chance to tell me. My curiosity got the better of me and I came here right away.”

Mosse leaned back in surprise at the mention of the estate’s steward. Who was this lad? And how did…Mosse nearly choked as he spat out his words. “You must be the son of the Master Knight! Welcome to my humble shop, Sir.” Damnation, what was his name? Had he even asked the steward that? He knew that the knight who ruled in the king’s name here had a son, and he was indeed the same age as the one who stood before him, but he’d known no more than that.

“Well,” the young man said. “That is the first time I’ve heard my father being called that, or any knight for that matter.” Mosse couldn’t help but flush slightly at the young man’s humorous tone. “And it’s prudent to say that I’m no knight myself. Not yet at least, and so you ought not call me Sir. Now, would you be so kind as to answer my question?”

“Of course, Master,” Mosse said. “I’m Mosse of Epiza.”

“No surname?”

“My family was not granted the honor,” Mosse said with a regretful shake of his head, hoping that that would change one day. One step at a time, though, one step at a time.

“I see,” the young man said. “Well, I’m Lucan Zesh. I wanted to welcome you to our estate. I’m certain you will thrive in our burgeoning town.”

“Thank you, Master Lucan,” Mosse said quickly. “As am I.” He hesitated for a moment. It was unlikely that he was here only to welcome him. Could it be? “Master, I’ve spoken with Master Thomas about the taxes and such. We’ve come to an agreement, I believe. Is it perhaps not to Sir Zesh’s liking?”

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“Ah, nothing of the sort,” Master Lucan said with a chuckle. “I wanted to see your shop up close myself. It seems to be coming into its own. I’m glad.”

“Thank you, Master Lucan.”

“Nothing to thank me for yet, but perhaps in the days to come. If you face any difficulties, come to me.”

“I wouldn’t want to waste your time, Master Lucan.”

“Do you intend to come to me with trivial matters?”

“Of course not,” Mosse was quick to say.

“Then you will not be wasting my time.”

Mosse stared open-mouthed for a bit then gulped and nodded quickly. “Yes, Master Lucan. You have my gratitude.”

The young man nodded and turned around to leave after sparing one last look at the inside of his shop.

Mosse was determined to hold his tongue, but his throat betrayed him. “Uh-hem.”

The young master stopped and turned back to him. “Something the matter?”

Mosse hemmed and hawed for a bit before finally mustering the nerve to say it. “It’s bad luck for the first customer of the day not to buy something from one’s shop.” He gave him an apologetic smile.

“I see,” Master Lucan said, approaching his counter again. “Well, do you have any books?”

Lucan marched out of the bailey’s gate to the prepared horses with his father and Thomas already mounted. He’d insisted on taking a look at the new shop opening up in the bailey. It had been a pleasant surprise amidst the foreboding signs of drought that they were seeing lately. He hadn’t needed to beseech this Mosse to make their estate his home, which made it all the more sweet. It appeared that the man had found their estate promising all on his own. Lucan felt as though all his efforts were not for naught. He’d bought a book about the trade goods of Pontis to mollify the anxiety of the man and had had it sent to the keep. Hopefully, the first shop to establish itself in their territory would thrive.

His father and Thomas were talking as he mounted his horse.

“…severe concern among the Houses,” Thomas said. “Already, it’s bordering on panic. There’s word that the king has charged the Academy’s ritualists and nature mages with looking into the matter.”

“It stands to reason,” his father nodded. “We must also prepare ourselves. Stockpile food from now. The granary is nearly built. Make certain it’s full by the end of spring.”

Thomas shook his head. “Unfortunately, we’re not the only ones thinking of that. Lords and ladies across the kingdom are stockpiling and even reaching for any resources they can get their hands on. Prices are already rising. If this comes to be a severe drought, everyone will suffer. And with most of the refugees still relying on the estate for food, it will be worse than a lean year if we can’t muster a grain harvest next spring.”

Lucan heard his father mutter a rare curse under his breath. “We will wait for the king’s word on the matter. Until then, do what you can.”

Thomas nodded.

Lucan cleared his throat and they looked at him. “Shall we?”

They trotted together around the bailey to take the road northeast.

“Are you not concerned?” his father asked.

“I am, Father,” Lucan said. “But after tossing and turning in bed for the fifth night, I determined that I cannot conjure water from nothing. And neither can Lilian for that matter, I asked.” At his father’s unamused glare, Lucan shrugged and continued, “Coin is the remedy for all problems. We have some of it now, Father. If it comes to it, we use it, all of it if we must. I believe we can survive if matters come to a head.”

His father seemed surprised but then nodded while eying him carefully. “Perhaps we can. But if it’s a drought for the ages, not all of us will survive.” He glanced in the direction of the refugee encampment.

Lucan reciprocated the nod of agreement. “I know, Father.” He’d been anxious about it for a fortnight already, so much that he’d stopped finding joy in anything. He’d been so spent by his sleepless nights that even Lilian had noticed and showed an appropriate amount of concern. In the end, he’d settled on focusing on what he had on hand, though the worry was still a distant voice in his mind, nagging him about what may or may not be. There was only one thing that was immediately unfortunate. He couldn’t continue with his plans for fresh refugees. He’d wanted to allow more folk into their territory for when the irrigation channels were ready. They’d need more farmers and laborers than what they had now when the waterworks were built. But with the drought, such plans would be senseless.

They rode to the fishermen’s village in the northeast where they met one of its unfortunate inhabitants. The fishermen were the earliest to have it hard, since there were fewer fish with the water receding. It would get worse and worse with time. After the matter with the smuggled refugees, Lucan had prohibited hunting in the forest except for the fishermen, so that it could alleviate their aches. The refugees had lost the privilege with the usurpation of their authority, and it had been enough to justify reserving the hunting for the fishermen and the huntsman only. There was no longer a shortage of food, and the refugees were not threatened by starvation, which would hopefully continue.

The guide took them down the northern branch of the canal. The water they walked alongside appeared nearly still, but Lucan knew that it moved ever so slightly under the surface. After following it for a short amount of time, they reached the lake. Lucan knew it was not a natural one. The Empire had dug it for some unknown reason, and he suspected that they were about to see part of the reason why.

He could see something thin breaking the surface right at its center. A boat had been prepared for them to see it up close. Their guide along with another fisherman beckoned them onto the boat and began using their wooden paddles.

Soon, they were cutting through the side of the lake, drawing closer and closer to whatever was piercing out of it.

Lucan began to make out what it was as they slowed down. It seemed to be the tip of a spire, so thin that one might have suspected its very end to be as thin as a needle if they didn’t know better. It was made from a kind of light gray stone that Lucan couldn’t recognize.

“What could this be?” his father said.

“I don’t know,” Thomas said. “We know this is a flooded lake. But why would anyone flood a structure whole?”

“Why would the Empire flood a structure whole,” Lucan amended.

Thomas’s eyes snapped to him. “You mean…the temples?”

“Must be,” Lucan said. The temples had been considered dangerous cults by the Empire back in the day, and it had been claimed that the Empire had destroyed several sites that they’d attributed to “occult worshipers”.

“That wouldn’t be unlikely if the structure underwater was of some significance to the temples,” Thomas said.

“And it would bring us no end of trouble if they heard of it now,” his father added from the side. He glanced at the two fishermen as sharply as Lucan knew he could. “No one hears of this. No one. We came here. We saw it. We left.”

The two fishermen nodded so hard that their heads threatened to fall off. Lucan intended to have Thomas look after them later and make certain that they needed for nothing. Desperate men would sell anything. If this was indeed something related to the temples, they’d overrun their estate as soon as they heard of it.

Hopefully, this drought would end before whatever this was resurfaced, though Lucan couldn’t stop the curious part of him from wondering.