The Elder Lands

With the reliable Bitians keeping what remained of the Empire in check, the young Kingdoms of the Elder Lands could finally devote themselves to fighting the malevolent Mer incursion. And thus, after years of it, the Elder Lands were consigned to even more bloodshed.

• Jaron Edd, ‘The Last War’

Winter was the loudest, yet also the quietest. Lucan hadn’t been told this contradicting wisdom by a hermit of the mountains or a wise scholar, but rather by his own sense of the hard season. Its winds were wild and vocal, yet its frigidity compelled silence and dreadful anticipation. Its snows, however uncommon, descended in serenity that none attempted to interrupt.

Throughout the season, farmers huddled around the warmth of their hearths, dipping into their stores; and in the case of the laboring refugees, dipping into the estate’s stores. Nevertheless, the winter months passed by without anything of note happening. And Lucan got to read in peace, when he was not perusing their ledgers with Thomas.

On the better days of the season, his father would force everyone out for training, making certain that they all stayed sharp. Lucan didn’t mind it. After their last battle, he was more appreciative of any improvement in his skills.

By the time spring impudently encroached on winter’s domain, every man in the territory was rearing to get up and do something. For even though days of rest and lethargy were a boon to any man, months of it resulted in a restlessness like no other.

The advent of spring was as bright as one would expect, the snows of the south melting and the hardness of the soil mellowing, though it came with the oddity of the canal’s water not rising as much as Lucan would have expected it. But regardless, he had other things to expect. Spring had come. Harvest would come. And the merchants would soon follow.

The warm feeling of the sun bearing down on Lucan without interruption was a welcome one as he waited on his horse. His father was beside him. He’d mounted his bulldrake for the occasion. The animal was sleek, somewhat thinner than a horse, but higher, stronger, and more durable. Its scales were like purple ridges swept backwards, thick and oiled. It had two gray horns curved over its skull, which it could put to good use in battle. It was a majestic beast, that was for certain. No one, including Lucan himself, didn’t wish for one.

Three of their men-at-arms accompanied them in a welcoming party. Thomas had even persuaded his father to wear something proper for the occasion.

They waited along the road west of the estate until they caught sight of their anticipated guests. A train of wagons snaked over a hill and down, guarded by both mounted men and others on foot. At their head, Lucan recognized Master Saltner, mounted on a steed more majestic than his own.

They were spotted by the caravan at the same time, and Lucan saw Master Saltner raising a hand in greeting from a distance. His father and he raised a hand in response.

The caravan advanced at a snail’s pace, or rather, that was what Lucan felt considering he’d never traveled with such a large baggage train. Eventually, though, the caravan made it to them and came to a halt.

Master Saltner urged his steed forward alone, until he was only a few trots away from them, then he lowered his head slightly to his father, though he didn’t dismount. “Sir Zesh. A pleasure to make your acquaintance at last.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Sir Golan nodded at the merchant amicably. “Welcome to our estate.”

“My thanks,” Master Saltner said. “Forgive my daughter for not being able to greet you herself. I insisted that she ride in a closed carriage while we were on the road.”

“No harm done,” his father said. “You must be weary from your journey. You are welcome to rest in our keep where we can break bread together.”

Master Saltner readily accepted their invitation, and the caravan was led to camp outside the bailey, but their people were free to venture inside. Though a great portion of the caravan belonged to Master Saltner, a lot of lesser merchants accompanied and contributed to it. Lucan was curious about how it was arranged and decided that he would ask the merchant later. For now, he watched briefly as the small army of caravaneers began to raise their tents

The welcoming party, accompanied by Master Saltner and followed by Lilian’s carriage, rode into the bailey. Labor had recommenced, and men were working on the expansion. Not long ago, Sawyer had claimed that he would be done within two months at the latest. After that, they would only have to wait for the mortar to dry on the foundations of the new buildings, but the workers would be free to continue their work on the canals until they were needed again.

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Lilian’s carriage came to a stop before the walkway that led up to the keep. Lucan, his father, and Master Saltner stood by to receive her.

The carriage’s door opened and a maid descended first, curtsying to them then turning to help her mistress down, even though she didn’t seem to need it.

Lilian wore a sky-blue dress with frills that complemented her delicate features. She stepped down from the carriage, then curtsied properly towards his father first, “A pleasure to meet you Sir Zesh.” His father gave her a pleasant nod. She then turned to Lucan and gave him a smaller curtsy.

“Lilian,” he greeted her.

“Master Lucan,” she smiled sweetly.

After a brief pause, his father spoke, “Shall we?” He gestured towards the keep and looked at Master Saltner who was throwing an eager look at their modest keep. If Lucan didn’t know the man could build one twice as sizable, he would’ve thought him a well-dressed pauper.

His father led the way, with Lucan behind him and then their guests. They led them to the main hall where his father had had a sumptuous meal prepared for the occasion.

Sir Golan soon seated himself at the head of the table and invited their guests to be seated on his left while Lucan took a seat to his right.

His father soon took the first bite, which was a gesture that invited everyone else to follow. Their guests dug into their meal and there were a few moments of silence before his father started polite conversation.

“Your caravan is cause for pride, Master Saltner. Only a skilled man can keep such an undertaking together.”

“You flatter me, sir,” Master Saltner said with a smile that stretched his hawkish features. “It’s only hard work and some good fortune. What is to be admired is the state of your fief. It is thriving, and that is proof of a wise and prosperous rule indeed.”

His father gestured at him. “Lucan’s contribution to this prosperity wasn’t a small one.”

“Ah, to be at such a young age and possessed of good intellect,” Master Saltner said. “I’m more and more reassured.” He turned to Lucan. “I assume with the Wildermen incursion, you have seen battle too?”

“Yes,” Lucan said, nodding with pressed lips. “It was a bloody affair, but sometimes we must reckon with unpleasant things to protect that which is pleasant.”

“Wise words,” the merchant said, glancing subtly at his father. “Words worthy of someone of high stature, wouldn’t you say, Sir Zesh?”

The implication wasn’t lost on Lucan. The merchant seemed eager to discuss aspirations, perhaps to ascertain if they were of the same mind on such matters. Lucan’s father was silent for a moment, chewing on his meat, then after some thought he said, “One can only fulfill their duties with honest effort and appropriate zeal, only then might they be justly rewarded.”

“Might?” the merchant asked softly.

“Might,” his father’s firm voice answered.

The meal was reaching its end as they spoke and the servants' removal of their plates was all that filled the silence that followed. His father had had a pair of the bailey’s residents brought to the keep to help the lone servant they had in preparation, cooking, and serving.

Soon, fruits; nuts glazed with honey; and citrus juice were served on the table, thankfully keeping everyone busy.

Master Saltner seemed to be deep in thought before he spoke next. “Well, if one were to put great wealth atop all of that, then sir, perhaps that may lead to surer results?”

Lucan’s father took a moment then nodded noncommittally.

“Though…” Master Saltner continued. He seemed to rearrange his thoughts and then began again, “Word has it that your stay in the capital wasn’t without its excitement. One might find cause for concern in such a thing, considering the King’s decree. Of course, I’m only a simple merchant, uneducated in matters of court. Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Lucan's father hummed, not the smooth sound of any other man, but a subtle growl that only those familiar with him knew to be of annoyance. “The King has made his decree. We will abide by it, as any loyal servant ought to do. There’s nothing more to say on the matter, for his majesty’s word is one and all.”

Master Saltner raised a drink to his lips before letting his whispered words slip out into the quiet of the hall. “No trouble with his highness then?”

Sir Golan sighed. “Master Saltner, I’m a man who prefers potent words over twists and loops. If you were to indulge my preference, you would find it appreciated.”

“Very well,” the merchant said, his tone solidifying and his posture straightening. “I must say that if you have made enmities in the capital that are above a man of much wealth but little stature such as myself, then this affair may prove disastrous for my household. For instance, if he who is to become King after his majesty, long may he reign, was to harbor animosity towards you, then that animosity would extend to me and mine once we are tied with matrimony. And that I cannot bear, forgive me.”

Lucan’s father shook his head. “No such enmities were made. His highness, the crown prince by the King’s decree, is no adversary of mine; rather, he is to be my King, and when the time comes, I shall swear fealty as any loyal vassal should. Any misapprehensions that might have muddied the waters during our last visit have been cleared for all to see.”

“Thank you, sir,” Master Saltner said with a cordial smile, “for giving me peace of mind. I’m certain of your honesty, for word of your honor precedes you.”

Sir Golan nodded.

“Well, on to more pleasant matters, shall we?” The merchant’s jovial tone broke the chill that had seeped into the hall.