After a sleepless night, we finally arrived at the manor, where the air was far removed from a cheerful welcome, burdened instead with a heavy atmosphere.
“Oho, Lord of the golden hair, it is most fortunate you have come.”
“Lord Gizebureicht, what has happened? Your complexion…”
“Yes, I deeply regret showing you such a somber face. Please, details will have to wait until inside…”
The lepidopteran lord, known for his striking beauty inherited from a mother said to be among the most stunning of beauties—enough to make one believe the tales—now bore a darker shade of fatigue that dimmed his elegance. His white, porcelain-like skin, differing from the whiteness of humans and resembling an exoskeleton of sorts, now seemed slightly gray and cloudy, perhaps due to the immense mental pressure that had robbed him of his usual vitality.
He gave off the impression of a village chief troubled by barbarian attacks.
Though I had prepared many characters in this same position as a GM countless times, Lord Wolbuters’s distress felt much more genuine. His fatigue, which had seeped into everyone from his self-defense group that greeted us at the manor’s entrance to his underlings, was palpable. Despite it being late spring, the manor appeared unusually crowded.
They must be moving in groups to avoid isolation; the situation must indeed be this dire.
Even the leader of the merchant caravan, who had merely wanted to trade while passing, looked perplexed. Nonetheless, our core team—I, Margit, Siegfried, and Lady Kaya—were invited into the personal residence of the lord.
Lairds’ homes are typically built much larger than others to project their authority, and this one was no exception, being rather grand. In fact, one could even say its grandeur hinted at the wealth of the lineage.
Two-story structures are common to accommodate reception rooms, but the sheer magnificence of this private home, towering three stories to the point of giving each child their own room—a hallmark of noble families—never ceased to astonish me.
However, in the current situation, the fact that someone who resides in such a splendid house faces such difficulties weighed heavily upon my shoulders.
As we waited seated on the long chairs in the reception room—furnished with excellent décor—a servant soon arrived with tea. The sleek white bone ash porcelain tea set was the kind favored by nobility for ceremonial tea practices. Embellished with butterflies, it might well be a gift from the lord’s father.
Impressive as the porcelain was, what truly made me stare was the liquid it contained.
“What is this… is it not black tea?”
“Nor is it a medicinal brew… I’ve never seen anything of this color before.”
After the servant had left, the pair from Ilfyut closely scrutinized the contents of their tea. Siegfried warily picked up the teacup with a suspicious look on his face—hey, be more delicate with that! Even if you don’t realize it, this cup is worth more than enough to buy farmland and is probably part of Lord Wolbuters’s dowry as son-in-law!
“Could it be an import… the scent is quite unusual, is it not?”
The crimson liquid, almost translucent, released a deeply nostalgic aroma upon careful inspection.
It was unmistakably black tea, fermented leaves from the tea plant. Even for guests, serving something as precious as this was impressive, and it was even more remarkable that they would offer such luxury to mere adventurers.
While working under Lady Agrippina, I’d learned that this commodity occasionally arrived via the eastern trade route and was highly cherished for its rarity. I never imagined tasting it here for the first time.
“Ho, this is quite astringent.”
“It does smell nice, but the astringency is quite strong, isn’t it?”
“Hmm… wouldn’t some jam pair rather well?”
As they spoke freely, I thought to mention that this was incredibly expensive. A single cup would likely cost at least a silver coin, a bargain by some standards, given how the eastern trade route is often compared to a river of gold. Yet despite increased circulation, it remains rare.
This taste and smell stirred a deep fondness within me. Wouldn’t it be splendid if coffee also graced this table one day?
Trembling with a small sense of awe while savoring the tea, my thoughts were interrupted by Lord Wolbuters’s arrival, a scroll in hand, accompanied by an elderly male servant.
We all stood in respectful greeting, exchanging polite formalities anew.
However, even as jests, the usual platitudes like “It’s a pleasure to see you in good health” could not be uttered.
“Surely there is no harm to your wellbeing? Should you be unwell, we can postpone the explanation…”
“No, I apologize for worrying you. It has been many nights of unrest… it seems better to resolve matters quickly.”
Despite his evident exhaustion, he maintained impeccable courtesy. Clapping his hands, he gave his servant instructions.
The aged servant carefully unfurled the scroll on the table, then extracted pieces from a leather bag, arranging them on the map of the manor grounds. This was no ordinary map but rather an intricate one carefully measured, likely not meant for external circulation.
“This is our current defensive setup.”
At the center of the estate lie the meeting hall and the lord’s residence, alongside the deputy’s field station, a communal warehouse, and the militia’s post. Surrounding these, housing for tenant farmers and small cottages are encircled, with free farmers’ homesteads scattered among the extensive farmland.
With a population of 422, the estate, still in its development phase just thirty years since its founding, sprawls across a significant area. Equipped with irrigation channels and water-powered mills, the manor’s defenses, despite their numerous pieces, still appeared insufficient.
From the layout I’d studied upon arrival, the archers’ positions seemed to be on the watch towers while the foot soldiers held their ground at strategic lookout points.
The defenses were concentrated around the central population hub and storehouses, decreasing in intensity as one moved toward the outer edges, with low stone walls circling the estate’s perimeter at waist height.
The lack of troops compared to the area they must protect is indeed inevitable. Unlike 21st-century urban areas where people are centralized for quick defense, this manor’s militia, while dedicated, simply cannot bulk up efficiently in every regard.
It’s reported that a kingdom can only sustain an army equal to five percent of the populace and even stretch to a maximum of ten percent when conscription is fully utilized.
This applies to states; manors are even worse off, with smaller populations and more immediate, pressing work to attend to. Especially since dedicated militia members, conducting patrols and training, and sometimes undertaking labor as part of their taxes, do not contribute actively to production. Feeding unproductive soldiers adds strain to the producers’ burdens and hampers economic growth, preventing arbitrary reinforcements.
Even back in my homeland of Königsstuhl Manor, only the most skilled were selected for the militia, with a reservist structure to make ends meet.
“First, I offer my apologies… I wish to revise the request.”
Ah, a revision?
“Initially, the request was for vigilance and caution, with a plan to revise as needed… Please, examine this.”
Following his words, the servant handed over a bundle containing three arrows, which we took and examined. Handing them over to Margit, who placed them on the table without much inspection, she dismissed them as “rubbish.”
An unkind evaluation that I could only agree with.
The arrow shafts bent ever so slightly, with rusted and chipped tips indicating repeated use. The fletching was damaged, surely reducing any stability. This was recovered close to the forest near the manor where it had frightened a child collecting firewood, fortunately missing them but causing a splinter in their hand.
“Hmm… were these all shot at once?”
“Accounts from the children are disordered and unreliable. Though given their proximity to each other, I suspect they were.”
Would three misfires toward a child indicate poor aim as a warning, or mere incompetence?
“Margit, if you could use these, how far would a regular marksman be able to hit?”
“Defining ‘regular’ is tricky… but based on my confidence level, a stationary target at forty paces, moving target twenty-five paces would be reasonable. Those consistently practicing can narrow it down by ten to fifteen paces.”
Hence their being considered low-quality yet not entirely useless.
“Upon seeing these, it’s evident. Rogues have arrived, and we must ask you to drive them away. Assuredly, we’ll reformulate the request and raise the reward.”
“Yes, accepting this revised request is not unwelcome for our side. However, did you not seek aid from the deputies?”
A discussion of why we pay such high taxes ensues. Surely not out of habit, these funds pay for their intervention during such emergencies, don’t they?
Certainly, swift reinforcements from the deputies should be expected at signs of any real threat to the manor.
Of course, we dispatched swift riders to inform the deputy, but they were fully occupied and couldn’t respond immediately.”
What a deeply troubling response indeed. The deputies being stretched thin…
The nobility and stewards of these estates typically maintain at least one or two squads of deputies, with larger ones fielding up to four. Consisting of three to eight auxiliary cavalry—not all knights—and a supporting infantry of about ten, these squads, as part of the small standing army of the empire, are well-drilled.
Much like knights are not frivolous titles, these daily-trained soldiers can effectively drive away regular bandits in open battle with minimal injury, even when outnumbered.
However, maintaining such highly skilled professional soldiers does come at a cost so exorbitant that they are rarely deployed frivolously.
Hence, their numbers are insufficient to cover everywhere at all times. Wealthier lands might rotate patrols and reserve forces, but Endereede’s ability to do so remains uncertain, considering it’s a border territory fraught with opportunistic landlords who may not be allies.
If even these deputy forces are completely occupied, it’s cause for great concern. It suggests even the competent ones are overwhelmed.
Had Lord Wolbuters been a nameless man from an impoverished, insignificant manor, this would make more sense. Given his standing and favor though, such negligence is highly unusual—a circumstance likely meriting priority even over several other nearby manors.
Is the situation so dire that they’re effectively in a civil war?
An unsettling thought. I suppressed the urge to despair and forced a smile to reassure the client.
“Rest assured, we will not abandon this manor. We’ll have our troops on guard immediately and send scouts into the forest. Meanwhile, please allow the militia to rest.”
“Great! You will accept the task, Lord of the Golden Hair! I am extremely grateful! The thought of harm to our people is unbearable!”
Wolbuters stood up, taking my hand with surprising vigor for his age, showing the depth of his distress. His clear attachment to the manor and concern for its inhabitants is evident, justifying his willingness to spend his own wealth on mercenaries and fortifying the estate.
“The sentiment is understood, Lord Gizebureicht. I too am from a rural area and feel your pain profoundly. We’ll begin our work at once, Margit, can I count on you?”
“Yes, certainly, O leader of ours. Might I borrow two more persons?”
“If necessary, double the number is fine. Please proceed.”
Assigned this task, Margit, with a light jest of a well-deserved nap, exited through the window—a glass pane curiously present in such a rural setting.
“Siegfried, can you form patrols and conduct rounds immediately? The positions are…”
“Aye, in groups of three, one archer as usual. These areas, then? And here as well?”
Taking pieces from the side, Siegfried skillfully strategized with the pieces.
“Good, but to eliminate blind spots, we’ll adjust the positioning slightly. The southern sections are mostly fields with low human traffic and walls. We’ll set up some bells later to plug those gaps.”
“Understood, count on us.”
“Aye, count on you.”
Working with capable colleagues makes tasks easier during such moments.
In a show of camaraderie, I extended my fist, which he, hesitating but then deciding, reciprocated.
Indeed, no matter the circumstances, he is still a boy, fond of slightly corny gestures—a sentiment I share.
“Also, Lady Kaya, there are injured children to check on, yes? Additionally, if you could prepare…”
“An invigorating medicinal brew, understood. Lord Gizebureicht, where is the injured child?”
“They should be home…”
“Very well. Should there be any other wounded or those suffering from fatigue, please gather them in the meeting hall. And, though it might be impertinent, should you find time, your attendance would be appreciated for an insomnia remedy.”
“Great… how grateful! How to thank you…”
Please offer your thanks to our leader, with a smile Lady Kaya descended.
Now… with this group of seven warriors in place, despite their capable numbers, our forces fare better, and we’ll do our best to address the situation.
“So, how many men are ready to move?”
It’s time for my “Field Fortification” proficiency to shine.
