Chapter 39: Stirring Ambition

The gentle afternoon sunlight bathed the people in warmth, making them drowsy. At the entrance to Victor’s camp, several guards paced back and forth in boredom, as if to ward off the overwhelming urge to sleep.

Yesterday, Lord Bruce, Captain Nelson, and Lady Nicole returned in triumph, bringing with them the corpse of an ogre. The entire camp erupted in celebration, the bonfire feast lasting late into the night. Five whole barrels of purple cane wine were emptied, so most people were still sleeping off their merriment, leaving only these unfortunate guards to dutifully hold their posts.

The neighing of harnessed horses drifted up from the slope, drawing the guards’ attention. As they prepared to ready their crossbows, the lookout atop the tower shouted loudly, “It’s the caravan! Our own convoy!”

Several wagons laden with goods rolled steadily towards the camp, led by Victor’s head villager, Morin.

Most of the people in the caravan were beaming, their spirits high, save for an old farmer whose swollen, bruised face wore a pained expression as he trudged in step with the others.

“Morin, what kind of goods are you bringing back today?” a guard called out with a smile as the convoy halted at the gate.

“Oh, these are offerings from Clear Lake Village for the lord. And this is Lord Dick, the village chief of Clear Lake,” Morin said, pulling the old farmer forward with a teasing grin. The camp formerly known as Byer’s had already been renamed Clear Lake Village by Victor.

“So, we have a chief in our midst,” the guard sneered, casting Dick a sidelong glance with not the slightest air of respect.

“Yes, yes… oh, no, not really a ‘lord’,” Dick stammered, unable to claim the title nor deny it, so he could only nod and bow repeatedly, his bruised face making him appear all the more wretched.

“Go on in!” the guard waved dismissively. Those who followed Victor looked down on the freemen of the land, even though Victor had granted them the status of his own people.

So what if you’re a village chief? I’ll be a vassal soon enough, the guard thought with pride. Though not a vassal yet, in a year the work points he’d earn would be enough to exchange for a small plot of land requiring only half the harvest in dues.

Dick shrank back as he followed Morin onto the nine-meter-long drawbridge that spanned a moat six meters wide and five meters deep. On either side of the trench, the steep slopes had been cleared of all but the shortest shrubs and brambles.

Looking up, Dick saw the four arrow towers rising behind the eight-meter-high palisade. The soldiers manning them eyed him coldly, their powerful crossbows at the ready. Dick couldn’t help but shrink his neck.

In truth, there were six such towers—two on each side of the gate, able to rain deadly bolts on any enemy foolish enough to approach the moat. The other two stood on the camp’s flanks, facing steep hillsides from which no real attack could be launched; these served instead as watchtowers to observe any movement at the foot of the mountain.

“Come along, Chief Dick, the lord is waiting,” Morin said, secretly pleased to see Dick so cowed, for it had been on Morin’s advice that Victor built the camp in just this way.

The terrain was formidable, easy to defend and hard to assault. Four arrow towers alone would be enough to deter most threats.

Inside the camp, Dick realized how much larger it was than Byer’s old encampment. Not only were there rows of houses, warehouses, and animal pens, but even a large vegetable patch filled with crops that grew only in the watery season—red greens, round squash, mustard greens, and others.

Beside the garden ran a small stream and a ten-meter square pool. Clear water flowed through a man-made channel into the pool, then through the beds, and finally exited the camp via a small tunnel.

A few farmers were busy in the fields, harvesting round squash and red greens, which they hauled in wheelbarrows to small low houses. They shouted and dumped the vegetables into enclosures.

“Morin, what are they doing?” Dick asked, curious.

“Oh, they’re feeding rock lizards,” Morin replied impatiently.

The rock lizard was a species unique to the Centaur Hills—large, omnivorous reptiles that grew up to fifteen pounds at maturity, with tender, delicious meat. Given ample food, they grew quickly and laid eggs prolifically. On Edwin’s suggestion, Victor had ordered his people to breed them. After more than a month of effort, the farmers had learned how to raise them well, and now the breeding pens could steadily supply the camp with lizard eggs.

“Come on, keep moving,” Morin said, pulling Dick up the hill toward the inner camp.

“Wait, I need to relieve myself first,” Dick broke free and hurried to a corner of the palisade, nerves and the impending audience with the lord making him desperate.

“Hey! Stop! You want a whipping? The latrine’s over there!” Morin shouted in alarm, grabbing him and pointing to two small huts by the garden.

Only now did Dick realize how different this camp was from his own foul-smelling settlement. Here, everything was clean and orderly, with not a trace of filth.

Victor was strict about sanitation, forbidding his people from relieving themselves anywhere but the latrines he’d had built. Those who broke the rules were not spared the lash.

After Dick had taken care of his needs, Morin brought him to the channel by the vegetable patch. “Wash your hands here. Remember, don’t touch the water upstream. The pool’s water is for drinking; this section is for cleaning. Don’t mix them up, or you’ll regret it.”

“You have a lot of rules here,” Dick muttered nervously.

“Hmph! It’s called hygiene. The lord himself designed this channel. Master Edwin from the White Tower says it prevents sickness,” Morin replied with open disdain for Dick’s ignorance.

“Nicole, does your arm still hurt?”

In the elegant wooden cabin atop the mountain’s plateau, Victor was tenderly changing Nicole’s bandages, his touch gentle and precise—so much so that Nicole felt warm inside.

Nicole didn’t speak, only shook her head slightly. Gone was her usual shyness; her eyes shone with tenderness and laughter.

“Nicole, now that you’re a knight, what are your plans?” Victor asked her with a smile.

“By tradition, Lady Sylvia will rename me and grant me the family name. My mother will receive the title of lady within the family. As for the future… I don’t really know…” Nicole’s face lit up with joy, but thinking she’d eventually have to part from Victor, her expression clouded.

Even as a newly made knight, there was no future for her and Victor—at best, they could be lovers.

“I meant, when do you plan to explore the Great Marsh?” Victor quickly steered the conversation away from the gloom that had crept in.

“In a day or two, we’ll set out,” Nicole replied with a smile, understandingly letting the previous sadness drop.

“What about your injury?” Victor frowned; as the saying went, bone and tendon wounds took a hundred days to heal. Nicole’s left arm had sustained a minor fracture in her fight with the old ogre and needed rest.

“It’s nothing. With a knight’s constitution, I’ll be healed in five days, and since I’m especially attuned to water, if I keep circulating my fighting aura, I’ll recover in three.” Knights who could resonate with the elements healed far faster than ordinary people. Thinking of her new status, Nicole’s lips curved into an enchanting smile.

Just as Victor was about to speak again, Lilia’s clear voice sounded from the doorway.

“My lord, Chief Dick of Clear Lake Village is waiting outside for your summons.”

“Let him in.”

The petite Lilia entered, leading a timid and cringing Dick. Upon seeing Nicole seated at Victor’s side, Lilia’s eyes shone with envy.

“Good day, Lady Nicole,” Lilia curtseyed. Usually, she addressed Nicole as sister, but now, with Nicole elevated to a knight and an outsider present, she used the formal title.

“No need for such formality, Lilia,” Nicole smiled at her. Perhaps because of her mother’s lowly status, Nicole was cold to men but much warmer toward other women, especially the lively and affectionate Lilia, whom she called sister.

“Good day, my lord, good day, Lady Knight.” Seeing both of these important figures watching him, old Dick hurriedly bowed.

“Lilia, have Clear Lake Village’s offerings been entered into the stores?” Victor nodded at Dick, but addressed Lilia.

“The offerings have been stored, including eighty iron oaks, one hundred and twenty hemlocks, seven hundred pounds of dried fish, seven hundred pounds of smoked meat, forty-seven hides, a hundred pounds of assorted dried mushrooms, and two wild boars totaling two thousand pounds.”

If Lilia put on a white blouse, a pencil skirt, black stockings, and heels, she’d be the very picture of a modern secretary, Victor thought, watching her report with such charm and clarity.

Recently, Victor had Lilia assist him with camp affairs, personally teaching her bookkeeping and financial management. Lilia now kept everything running smoothly, displaying the competence of a modern assistant.

Yet others in the camp believed Lilia was about to become Victor’s personal maid. Some already called her “madam.” Even Nelson thought so and no longer objected to Lilia being around Victor.

Victor was secretly furious at these misunderstandings.

I really just want an assistant. I chose Lilia because she’s literate, smart, young, and eager to learn… Well, she’s also pretty. Alright, a personal maid wouldn’t be bad either.

“Why are the offerings so little?” Victor asked, looking playfully at the village chief he had appointed.

“My lord, that’s all we have left after setting aside food for the villagers,” Dick answered, face drawn.

“Is that so? It seems life in Clear Lake Village is hard. I said before that villagers were welcome to settle here, so why has no one come? Did you not tell them?” Victor’s eyes were cold.

“Well, my lord, the villagers are used to living there. There’s nothing I can do,” Dick’s forehead broke out in sweat under Victor’s questioning.

“Oh, really? By the way, Chief Dick, why is your face swollen? Were you beaten?”

“No, no… I fell, I fell…” Dick stammered, covering his bruised cheek, his fear plain to see.

“Very well. If there’s nothing else, you may go.” Victor rapped the table, dismissing him.

“My lord, please, I don’t want to go back! I want to stay here!” Dick suddenly fell to his knees, bursting into tears.

The past days had been miserable for Dick. He tried to act like a chief, but Mark’s men had given him a beating, and Byer had turned a blind eye. The freemen who’d hoped to curry favor now steered clear of him, making his life unbearable.

“Dick, I am deeply disappointed in you. I, Victor Wimbourne, am the true lord of this land. As my appointed chief, you must be loyal and prove your worth. If you are useless, go back to being a freeman. I’m sure Byer would not hesitate to kill a freeman,” Victor said, unmoved by Dick’s pleas. He had to make Dick understand his predicament.

“My lord, don’t abandon me!” Dick shivered at Victor’s cold words.

“Don’t you see? As my chief, they dare to beat you but not kill you. If you yield, you’ll die without anyone knowing why.”

“Then… what should I do?” Dick was completely at a loss.

“Go back to Clear Lake Village. No matter how they humiliate or beat you, do not submit. Rebuke them loudly and rally the other villagers. This will be hard, but you have no choice. Persevere, because there’s no retreat for you,” Victor said, needing Dick to spread his voice in the village, so he offered some support.

“Just yesterday, my forces wiped out a bandit tribe of ogres and hyena-men. Stay here tonight—bathe, rest. Tomorrow, I’ll have you dressed in new clothes and escorted by guards, bearing the ogre’s head to display in the village. Proclaim my deeds loudly to the villagers, but do not provoke Byer’s men—the time is not yet right.”

“In recognition of your loyalty, I will also reduce Clear Lake’s tribute by a tenth. You may take a share of the offerings back with you. I suggest you distribute these supplies in your own name to the old, weak, women, and children—do not try to buy the strong men, that will only get you killed faster.”

“Do well, and I may consider making you my vassal and granting land to your family.”

Dick had been made chief at a whim and had little real ability, so Victor had to explain everything in detail.

Watching the old farmer, who had moments ago been so miserable, now leave with renewed vigor, Nicole couldn’t help but ask, “Will Dick succeed?”

“If he’s clever enough, there’s a good chance he’ll break up the freemen’s camp,” Victor replied with confidence.

“And if Byer kills him?” Nicole worried, knowing Bruce had decided not to interfere further with the freemen in Victor’s lands.

“I’ll appoint another chief among the freemen of Clear Lake. I’d like to see how many chiefs Byer dares to kill.”

Victor’s gaze was complicated. He knew full well that inciting a powerless chief to fight Byer was sending him to his death. But if Byer resorted to murder, Victor lost nothing—he’d simply appoint another, and Byer could not go on killing without losing the support of the freemen.

Victor sighed. Since he had abandoned the idea of bloodshed in the camp, he could only break Clear Lake Village by sowing internal strife.

Ambition must be met with ambition.