Winter's Crown: Act 5, Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Paul Milo scrubbed away the afternoon’s grime, savouring the sensation of cool water over his skin. After a long day out in the fields, he was looking forward to a relaxing evening with the neighbours, enjoying a hot meal with a cool drink in the refreshing breeze outside. The door to his house opened. He finished wiping himself off, putting on a fresh change of clothing. Pouring out two cups of water, he walked out of the kitchen.

Along the way, he heard the familiar clatter of their Skeleton helper and stepped over to one side. The Undead labourer walked by without a look or a word, placing the baskets it was carrying onto the kitchen counter before heading to the corner to await new instructions. Paul paid it little mind, though a small part of him wondered how he had gotten used to the strange new life they had here.

To call it strange was probably a colossal understatement. He and his wife were originally farmers displaced by the chaos following the Kingdom of Re-Estize’s defeat at Katze Plains. They had become refugees, their village ruined by the fleeing wave of survivors from that disastrous battle. Even the fact that they had been so thoroughly beaten didn’t stop the levied men – most of them farmers themselves – from stripping the rural villages bare of food and valuables before continuing on their way. The local authorities had either fled or were powerless to stop them.

He and his wife managed to make it to E-Rantel, finding a single cheap room in the city to shelter them, though the rent quickly drained away what little they had. Even with provisions being freely distributed by the new government, the situation was becoming untenable. His wife was with child, and there was no work in a city frozen by fear of the Undead. Some were sent to the new king’s lands in the northeast, but priority went to those displaced by the renovation of the pauper’s district, and Paul’s family wasn’t one of the others chosen to go.

Out of desperation, they had taken an offer of tenancy mentioned by the city cathedral. It had been one he had immediately refused upon hearing of it. The terms and conditions could best be described as ‘honest’, for the liege making the offer made no attempt to make it sound any better than it was: an undeveloped frontier land on the dangerous southwestern border. It was so remote that they needed to get there by boat. There were no priests; no markets; no tradesmen to service them, and the lord controlled everything that went in and out of the territory.

Housing; tools; food; everything was under the lord’s control and they would be bound to that lord for the next ten years. Few people were living there and the lord’s share was 9/10ths of the harvest. The harshest of taxes he had ever heard of allowed tenants to keep double that amount, and even that meant slow starvation in almost every case.

Yet, Paul had no choice. He had to take the contract, or perish in the city – it felt like they were selling themselves into a life of misery. And so, they were shipped upriver with a group of similarly desperate looking people, to some far-off place in the mountains that sounded more like some sort of cruel prison camp for an evil aristocrat than anything else.

Now, one season later, he felt a bit silly for not taking the offer in the first place. The description of the land, its conditions, and the terms of their tenancy were entirely accurate, yet it was not as someone like Paul would have imagined just from listening to the temple staff.

The land was undeveloped and surrounded by untamed highlands and mountains, but it was also clean and cool and beautiful. Any concerns about their safety against wandering bandits and savage Demihuman raiders were put to rest by the presence of powerful Undead sentries both on land and in the skies above. There were still no priests, but places for markets and other services were built after their arrival, and medicines crafted by apothecaries from the city were provided. The local lord did control everything, but the young Baroness appeared to be nothing but a genuine and benevolent border noble: one who conducted herself in the way that the scriptures would demand out of the aristocracy, yet you would never see practised in earnest.

Rather than being miserly, she was generous when it came to upholding her side of their contract. Tools, food and medicine were provided for the period up to the first harvest. Though the population was small, Undead farmhands were provided. She even travelled from village to village to hold court, and the villagers saw her quite frequently. It was unlike other places where the only sign of the lord you’d see was the tax collector, or maybe some Adventurers hired to deal with a problem that was worth paying them for.

Housing was particularly ridiculous. Their previous home had been a cottage of wattle-and-daub with a thatched roof. Like most rural cottages, it was a single combined living space: you slept, cooked, ate and worked all in the same small area. This new home, however…he doubted that any farmer had seen the like before. In the place of wattle-and-daub walls were walls fashioned from solid granite. Rather than thatch, clay tiles were used for the rooftops.

The house itself was large, as well – larger than most homes in the city. It was larger than even the lady’s manor, which didn’t make much sense. They had a yard around them too. He had the opportunity to ask Baroness Zahradnik why everything was so big – maybe he shouldn’t have requested an audience just for that – and her answer was ‘so that Fireballs cannot hit more than one home at once’. Paul had no idea what to think about that. Did they actually have that problem? He spent the rest of that day in the field, occasionally glancing up to the sky to make sure that death wasn’t about to come raining down on his head.

The kitchen and dining room were divided into their own sections, and there was an even larger space that someone called a ‘living room’. There was an upstairs – an upstairs! – with three bedrooms, while a cellar with the same area as the main floor could be gotten into from inside the house. In the cellar was a hatch where they could escape into the sewer if the village was attacked.

Oh yeah, they had a sewer, too. The place had all the comforts of a fancy city home and was far larger and more luxurious in construction. There was a bit of a wait for it, but his wife had fainted dead away on the street when he finally walked her up to their new home.

“You there, ma?”

He called out to his wife, Elaine, who had not made a sound since entering. She was expecting in a month or two, so Paul figured she had taken a seat to rest after going out to market. That was another nice thing about the Skeleton helper, it allowed his wife to continue with most of her daily business even when heavy with child.

She didn’t reply, and Paul furrowed his brow as he came around the corner. Only the sound of rustling parchment in the air let him know that she was there at all. He found her seated at the dining room table, with a small booklet and a pile of papers in hand.

Ah, that’s right, shares are being handed out today…

The final sticking point in their tenant contract – the ten per cent share of their crops – would finally show itself. Working through the season, Paul had a good long time to think about why the rate sounded so terrible compared to their experiences so far. Elaine, however, was still twisting herself into knots over it.

He went over to the dining room table where his wife was seated, placing a cup of water in front of her. She absently lifted it to her lips, then the cup fell and clattered against the table, spilling its contents over its surface. Paul frowned.

“Baroness up and die again?” He muttered.

That was another thing about this place. The noble in charge died from time to time. It wasn’t a kid taking over after their relatives, afterwards – it was the same Baroness Zahradnik, dying over and over again. With those deaths came a vague feeling of uncertainty and unease. Mishaps happened more often, people lost their usual level-headedness and several other minor things occurred as well. Then it would all vanish the moment she came back to life again.

It had caused an unbridled panic at first, but, after a certain point, some of the villagers jokingly – at least he thought it was a joke – suggested they should start a betting pool for how long the Baroness would last until it happened again.

Elaine turned her head at his voice, eyes wide and fearful. Her arm came out and clutched at his shirt.

“W-we…we need to run,” she said.

“Run?” He wrinkled his nose in confusion, “Why’d we need to–”

She pushed the papers straight into his face. Paul flinched and he stumbled backwards. After a moment, he leaned forward, scanning the page…not that he could read. Nor could Elaine, for that matter. They could make out numbers and a few words, but that was about it.

“The number, Paul! The number!”

Elaine shook the page as he tried to make sense out of the jumble of letters. Scowling, he snatched it out of her hand so he could look at it properly. It was laid out like a merchant’s invoice, listing numbers in fields with what he assumed to be the sum at the end.

“One four one…” He squinted at the numbers, looking for any marks stuck between them, “141 gold, 2 silver, 9 copper?”

Elaine nodded her head, cradling her swollen belly as she looked up at him tearfully.

“We’re…we’re in trouble, aren’t we?” She asked through quickening breaths, “This number isn’t right! We need to get out of here before a Death Knight breaks down the door to take us away!”

Paul looked around his panicking wife at the table behind her. There was nothing aside from the booklet there.

“Did you put the gold somewhere?” He asked.

Elaine shook her head.

“Wait, if you didn’t get the gold, then why are we running? You think they’ll take us away for having a piece of paper with a number on it? Where do you think we can go anyways? The harbour is the only way in or out.”

It was an absurd amount, honestly. Enough to make anyone think you were guilty of something. A family of three in the city could live comfortably on three gold a month – those living in rural areas could stretch it out even further.

“Then what do we do?” Elaine asked him, “What can we do? We didn’t do anything wrong – this is horrible, Paul!”

“Uh…we just keep doing what we’re doing?” He answered, “I said how big the harvest was before, didn’t I?”

“But–”

“Look – how much did we pull in last year?”

“T-twenty-five? That was for both seasons, though…”

“Right,” Paul nodded. “That was us workin’ one hide of land. We got four of those Skeleton farmhands, and each one of ‘em can work about a hide of land. We’ve been granted 200 acres of land to tend to for our contract…you get where I’m going with this?”

“But that still doesn’t seem right: doesn’t that mean we should be making four times as much for the year? It’s going to be over tenfold at this rate…”

“More than that: our old share was three-tenths – the share here is only one-tenth. They’re using Druid magic on the land, and yield’s gone from seven bushels an acre to thirty. We still use the same number of bushels to seed the next crop, so there’s that much more that goes into what we make for the harvest.”

He wasn’t sure if that was quite right…no, it should be. For the first season, Lady Zahradnik had included everything into their terms. They’d get their one-tenth share, free of any other costs.

“That means…we’re rich?” Elaine said, “We can buy everything we ever wanted and still have coin to spare! W-we could live like nobles, and…and–”

“Woah!” Paul shouted at her sudden reversal in attitude, “Just hold on a second there. Did they say anything when you went to the Lichtower?”

“Um…something about an a-advisory? It’s part of all those papers they gave us.”

That didn’t help when neither of them could read. Paul furrowed his brow, flipping through the pages: it was all words and no pictures.

“Nothin’ else?” He said, “I need to walk over there and ask before you try buying a lordship. It busy when you left?”

Elaine shook her head.

“Line was short.”

Paul walked out onto the porch and pulled on his boots, heading out of his yard and up the street. He entered the market square, which was much busier than usual. A small crowd was gathered on the western side. There, a woman in a black dress was speaking to them while holding up something in her hand.

He entered the Lichtower, taking his place at the end of a small group of people – all holding what appeared to be the same batch of papers in their hands. At the counter was the Elder Lich charged with seeing to the running of the village, staring out at the line. The villagers at the front walked back out after talking with it for a few seconds. Paul’s turn came within a minute or so.

The Elder Lich cleared its nonexistent throat, glancing down at the papers in Paul’s hand.

“I assume that your illiteracy has led you here,” it said in a thin and nasally voice.

“That’s, uh…that’s right, I guess?”

Compared to Baroness Zahradnik’s right-hand Lich, the new one that had come to their village had a few rough edges. It looked him in the eye and sighed before speaking.

“The pages included with your record are an advisory concerning downwards fluctuations in commodity prices – particularly those for agricultural produce. The booklet is for use with the post office.”

He had no idea about the last bit, but the other part caused him to start in alarm.

“The prices are going down?” Worry crept into Paul’s voice, “Why’s that?”

“It would stand to reason that, with the increase in supply, demand – and thus prices – will fall, yes?”

“Uh…”

“It is put simply, for your understanding…well, the important thing for you to note is that, due to this fall in prices, an advisory has been issued addressing how your earnings should be put to use.”

“You’re telling us what to buy now?”

“It is ultimately for your long-term benefit, and will save on your living costs in the long run.”

Paul supposed that he could at least listen to what the Elder Lich had to say.

“I’m listening…” He leaned forward.

“Take your listening outside,” the Elder Lich leaned back. “A representative from the magical atelier is currently holding a presentation. Next.”

Paul wandered away and out of the Lichtower. Maybe the Elder Lich didn’t have a few rough edges – it had a lotta jagged ones.

Back in the market square, he made his way around to join the crowd in front of the stand. The woman in the black dress was a pleasant-looking girl who had moved in several weeks previous to work in some sort of magical workshop connected to the Lichtower. In her hand was a gleaming crystal sphere that drove away the shadows of the evening with its radiant light.

“Can’t we just leave it on a table?” A man raised his voice over the murmur of the crowd.

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” the woman replied in a patient tone. “It is a magic item, after all, so you’ll want to protect your investment with something sturdy and not prone to falling over and breaking.”

“But it’s already expensive enough! Why is it so fragile? Might as well buy something cheaper that won’t break so easily.”

“If you take care of it,” the woman said, “it’ll last forever. Think of what you’ll save on candles, torches and firewood! There’ll be no smoke or soot, no heat, and no fuss!”

The man did not look convinced. ‘No heat’ was hardly a selling point, either: especially with autumn coming in a couple of months. Paul looked around the crowd, searching for a familiar face. He found his neighbour – a fellow farmer – not too far away and edged through the crowd towards him.

“Psst,” he lightly elbowed the man, “what’s going on here?”

“Lady’s selling magic lights,” his neighbour replied. “Says they’ll make our homes as bright as day.”

“Magic lights…” Paul looked up at the gleaming sphere, “so like the ones that they use to light the streets in E-Rantel?”

“Could be,” the man shrugged. “They’re expensive, though – four gold coins each, plus whatever you stick ‘em in.”

That was no doubt expensive. The woman continued unfazed by the dull reception, extolling the virtues of the magical light. Though her reasoning about saving on lighting costs did make a sort of sense, its value depended on who was using it. A farmer like Paul had little need: he couldn’t read, and most of his work was outdoors. He didn’t spend much on candles, torches or firewood in the first place.

A weaver, carpenter, or some other craftsman, however, would benefit from being able to work well into the evening and night. It was an item that meant clear profit for some, but parting anyone else with their gold would be difficult. The idea that it could break added to his hesitation, and it probably wasn’t just him. Somewhere along the way, she added the fact that Lady Zahradnik endorsed the use of magical lighting in her demesne and intended on using them to light the streets – just like they did in the city – which further lowered Paul’s already low interest. If the streets and gardens were lit, then they could just go out and use those instead if they needed to.

As expected, only craftsmen came forward to purchase the magical lights. It was enough to empty the woman’s inventory, though, and her assistant – who Paul hadn't noticed up until that point – removed the empty crate and replaced it with another. The woman lifted the lid and withdrew a long black sheet of something.

“Now our next wondrous item here is–”

“Your attention is required.”

The thin, nasal voice of the Elder Lich boomed over the market square, and the crowd turned their attention away from the woman and up to the top of the Lichtower.

“A Class B Advisory has been issued for Zahradnik Barony and its surrounding environs,” the Elder Lich droned down over the village. “His Majesty’s subjects are restricted to their respective villages. All road travel is prohibited. Those found outside of their designated areas will be deposited at the nearest safe location by local security. Activity within population centres will not be restricted – you may go about your regular business within their bounds.”

With that, the Undead office worker vanished back into the Lichtower.

Another advisory. Paul was still trying to figure out what the previous advisory was.

“Hey, Paul, what’s a ‘Class B Advisory’?”

“I got no idea,” he muttered.

“Hey Isabella,” someone shouted up to the woman on the stand, “what was the Lich talking about?”

Over the air, the sounds of the village gates being closed and barred echoed over the rooftops.

“That’s uh…it means that we’re under threat of invasion,” Isabella replied, then flashed a brilliant smile. “Well, now that you’re all stuck in here with me, I’d like to bring your attention back to the next handy little magic item we got here…”