LRAB Chapter 112: Long Shot
Chapter 112: Long Shot
Chapter 112: Long Shot
Long Shot
As the sun leaned toward the western horizon, Lansius, Audrey, and their entourage rode towards South Hill city. Instead of heading to the castle, Lansius stopped at the gates, pulled his hood down to conceal his face, and then proceeded to walk towards the market. Audrey and half of their entourage followed, similarly disguised.
With plans for the farming villages taking shape, Lansius now focused on another aspect of rulership: establishing order.
This would be his first time doing so. In Korimor, the Nicopolans had forced them and the Korimor people together, negating the need for such actions. However, the situation in South Hill was different. Though their army had been defeated, the castle, the city, and its inhabitants remained intact.
The situation presented a certain danger and questions of loyalty. Despite having troops stationed, Lansius was determined to ensure South Hill remained under his control, and he had a plan.
Lansius found a suitable place, a modest inn, and he instructed Carla to handle the arrangements. She paid for three people, after which they ascended to the upper floor, leaving the guards outside.
Reaching the second floor, Lansius noted the communal sleeping space was vacant. He hurried to a window overlooking the market.
"Why are we here?" Audrey inquired, peeking through the window.
Absorbed in his thoughts, Lansius replied offhand, "Because it has a view of the market."
Audrey's dissatisfied expression prompted Lansius to add, "I want to... wield my authority."
"Wield what...?" She began, furrowing her brow, but raised her hand to stop him. "Never mind, it's probably complicated. But aren't we supposed to attend a banquet?"
"This is more important than the banquet. Besides, we're not the stars of that event," Lansius said, smiling.
"Interesting..." Audrey mulled.
At that moment, Carla approached. "My Lord, My Lady, your drinks?" she offered, extending a wineskin filled with ale and a waterskin.
Audrey chose the ale, while Lansius continued to watch the market. Spotting a familiar figure, he asked, "Isn't that the hunter from yesterday?"
"Yes, that's Lieutenant Farkas," Audrey confirmed, offering Lansius the wineskin.
"I envy your eyesight," Lansius remarked, accepting the drink. He then instructed Carla, "Fetch Farkas discreetly. And bring Sigmund, but ensure he keeps a low profile."
***
South Hill Market
The sun had sunk low in the west, but the market was still abuzz with activity. Peddlers occasionally shouted, selling their wares, sellers invited passersby into their shops, and various food stalls offered snacks or a full meal experience.
Captain Sigmund, accompanied by two guards, attracted everyone's attention. Their movement indicated it was a formal occasion, not a mere shopping errand.
The three ascended to the elevated platform usually used for morning auctions.
"Hear ye, hear ye," Sigmund began, addressing the crowd gathered in front of the platform. "I hold a letter from the new City Council."
He displayed a parchment with a wax seal, drawing the crowds closer.
"The City Council decrees: Whoever brings this basket to the guardsman at the gate and takes the receipt will be rewarded with a basket of coins."
Hearing this, the crowds laughed and shook their heads in disbelief. Their laughter grew as many made jokes about it. It was a simple task, yet the reward was so substantial that no one took it seriously. Everyone thought it was a joke, a mistake, or worse, something sinister.
Many tried to persuade their friends to accept the task, but ultimately, no one dared to take the basket from Sigmund's hand.
Sigmund waited patiently. Some inquired about the basket's contents and weight, and he revealed it was filled with simple blood sausages. This further puzzled the crowds and fueled their laughter.
Suddenly, a girl, older than Agatha and wearing miserable, dirty clothing, ascended the platform. She appeared nervous and seemed to anticipate being ousted at any moment. However, Sigmund motioned for her to approach.
The girl cautiously walked closer and Sigmund asked, "Do you understand the assignment, or should I repeat it?"
"Yes, master. Deliver this basket to the guardsmen at the gate and take the receipt from him."
"And then return here with the receipt. Good," Sigmund nodded and handed her the basket. Meanwhile, Sigmund's guard nailed the letter to a wooden pole, marking that the job was taken.
The crowd watched in anticipation, thinking they were in for another jest. As the girl descended with the basket in hand, the crowd followed enthusiastically.
She strolled nervously to the gate, the crowd around her, eager to see what this was all about.
Before long, she reached the gate and handed the basket to the guardsman. Farkas, who was there, counted the sausages and gave her the receipt.
The crowd followed her until she returned to the platform. Many chuckled, ready for the finale of this absurd joke. Some had guessed what would happen, and bets had been made.
The girl handed the receipt back to Sigmund, who gazed upon it and confirmed it. He then said sympathetically, "Place the basket on the floor. It's about to get heavy."
The girl did so, and Sigmund motioned to one of the guards, who opened his thick canvas rucksack and poured copper coins into the basket.
The shimmer of polished copper under the waning sun, the sound of coins trickling down, and the way they poured like water into the basket, left everyone shocked. Mouths agape, jaws dropped. The laughter ceased.
"Enough," Sigmund commanded, and the guard stopped as the wicker basket was filled with coins.
"A basket of coins. The reward is now complete," he announced to the stunned crowd. Almost everyone in the market needed time to process what had just happened. The amount of copper coins they saw was probably worth several months of their salary.
The skald looked at the girl, still amazed at her fortune, and urged her, "Take the reward."
"May I go now?" she asked nervously.
Surprised, she blinked several times. "I didn't mean that."
Lansius chuckled. "My dear squire turned Baroness, you're starting to think like a noble."
She pouted. "I'll reflect on that. But then, if we can't fix the commoners' consumption, what should we do?"
"It's quite a hard issue. We could order the populace to eat less, but we could risk a rebellion. Meanwhile, it's also a useless move."
"Useless, how?"
Lansius chuckled. "They're just like us several years ago, but worse. Commoners in Lowlandia mostly only eat just enough to get by. Compared to Arvena or Midlandia, they have it worse."
"True, our Lowlandian-born troops are easily contented. A bowl of hot gruel can make them happy," Audrey recalled from her experience.
"Exactly. So, we can't ask the South Hill commoners to eat less. It would be like ordering them to starve."
"I understand now." She exhaled sharply. "Earlier, you mentioned food security also lies at the table of the rich?"
"Indeed. We need to focus on these wealthy people. Look at this banquet. They expect nothing less than a feast. I told Sir Harold to ask the castle staff to prepare an ordinary banquet as we're not celebrating anything special, yet here we are."
Audrey observed the Great Hall, filled with an array of food including two roast ducks, fruits, and ales. "It is rather excessive."
"They're accustomed to abundance. Ironically, the fall of House Gunther made them more powerful. After all, land and food production go hand in hand with wealth and power."
"But they feared you. A decree might be enough."
Lansius put a slice of honeyed milk bread pudding on her plate and explained, "A decree would only alienate them. We've already asked them to support the new policy, pitting them against Sir Gunther's associates."
"True, we've already asked that of them. Demanding more might provoke trouble," Audrey said as she stared at the cake-like pudding. "Also, I believe you don't intend to garrison South Hill with such a large force indefinitely."
"Indeed. That's why we need to address the elephant in the room," Lansius said, taking a bite of egg custard.
Audrey put her plate aside. "What about the reason behind the basket of coins?"
"That one will take time to fully mature." Lansius pondered finding it difficult to explain. "It's to coax the populace to our side, and there's also a different benefit you'll learn about later."
"So, it was more than just giving away a basket of copper coins," she nodded thoughtfully.
Sir Harold, dressed in an exquisite gambeson tailored to fit his height and stature, approached the high table. "I apologize for the interruption, but My Lord, Servius is ready."
"Servius?" Audrey asked.
"He's the star of this show." Lansius chuckled and then added, "Now, it's time to go on the offensive."
With Sir Harold by his side, Lansius stood in front of his table, capturing the attention of everyone in the Great Hall.
The musicians stopped their gittern and lute. Lansius then addressed the chamber, "Gentlemen and Ladies, I'm sure you have met my acting Captain and host of this banquet, Servius." He gestured towards the man.
Servius, dressed sharply in striking yellow and black, bowed to the audience.
The nobles nodded, acknowledging Servius.
Lansius continued, "You may have discussed various topics with Servius: politics, mercenaries, even perhaps food production. He knows it all. As the commander of a condottieri legion, I'm sure you all feel safe in his presence."
Many nodded their heads in agreement.
"Now that we've established his credibility, we have an important story to share," Lansius said, motioning for Servius to take the lead.
"I apologize, as what I'm about to reveal may be unsettling," Servius began. "It happened this summer in Nicopola. Just like the previous year, there were rumors of famine. However, such occurrences had happened so often that frankly, nobody gave a damn. After all, it was all too common for the poor and peasants to die. 'Such is the law of this world,' they say."
The guests nodded, each sharing a similar sentiment.
"As for the better members of society, well... It was only expected for us to have enough to weather the storm. Being a legion commander, I had more than just land and money. I also had connections and armed men at my disposal. Securing food for myself was all too easy."
The landowners looked captivated by his story. As Lansius had expected, Servius who had wealth, power, and commanded men served as a relatable figure for these people, almost a role model, embodying what they aspired to be.
"That summer, I expected food prices to rise, but I wasn't worried. If prices doubled, I would simply pay more. If they tripled, I would use my men to negotiate a better price. But I was wrong," Servius said, his tone turning grim.
The guests could sense something was about to be revealed, and their expressions hinted at fear and discomfort.
"Prices rose tenfold for a week, and then there was none to be found. The markets closed; the stalls... empty."
Small gasps emerged from the female guests. Servius paid no heed, "I sent armed men to 'borrow' grains. The merchants begged, fought, and cried that it was all they had left for their families. Only then did I realize that my city was doomed."
As Servius's tale unfolded, a heavy silence fell over the Great Hall. The guests, who had indulged to the point of excess as was customary, now felt a wave of nausea washing over them, their faces painted with concern. While Lowlandia was accustomed to lawlessness and armed conflicts, it had never faced total societal collapse.
Their relatively small population and reliance on herding had shielded them from the worst outcomes. But now, Servius's story brought the horrors of famine to their minds, starkly contrasting with the abundant leftovers from the feast still on their table.
Lansius observed calmly, eying the room for even the subtlest shifts. He needed to ascertain whether his subjects bought the story. If not, he would have no choice but to resort to more radical measures to curb their excessive consumption. Such measures, he knew, could eventually provoke attacks against his lieutenants and captains.
A knife in the back, or poison in their drinks – such were the risks. And when that happened, even Lansius feared what he would do to them. Thus, for everyone involved, this evening would be a turning point.
***