Chapter 135: Echoes of Power

Chapter 135: Echoes of Power

Echoes of Power

Beatrix

The Lord and Steward rode in the carriage after concluding the meeting. Beatrix had to sit uncomfortably as she was taller than a regular human and also had her tail to consider.

"This is really uncomfortable," she complained again.

"Yes, My Lord. Please bear it just a little longer," replied the Steward, who sat across from her, facing her direction.

"I wish I could ride horses like humans," she muttered, feeling helpless.

The old Steward could only hide his grin. As they approached the bulwark gate, he said, "My Lord, earlier you surprised me."

"One of my statements?" she asked.

"Your action, I mean," he clarified and added, "I'm surprised you didn't threaten or ask them for compensation."

Beatrix sharpened her stare. "Don't get me wrong, old man. I love my brother. I still remember the days he playfully suckled my tits, thinking it was mother's. But now he's dead, and it's no one's fault." She then turned to the glass window, looking at the rocky mountains. "I know my position. I'll not endanger the whole town you tried so hard to protect just because of a brother."

"I'm honored... The whole city is honored."

"Hmph, praises won't get you anywhere with me." She shifted in her seat again.

Following her gaze, the Steward caught the blue and bronze banner of a patrol that rode to the forest area. This led him to ask, "What do you think about Lord Lansius?"

"Hard to guess. He's different..." her words trailed off.

"Well, he's a foreigner. Black hair and all."

After a moment of thought, Beatrix exclaimed, "Ah! I should have asked if he's ever met another half-breed before."

The Steward was piqued. "Why?"

"Because his reaction is not normal."

The Steward nodded. "Indeed, he showed a lot of restraint--"

"Not restraint," Beatrix disagreed. "No disgust, scowl, fear, or combativeness. He simply treated me like... an ordinary human."

The Steward broke into a smile and quipped, "See, a lot of humans aren't bad."

"I admit there are exceptions like him and you, also half of the Umberland people, but I doubt it's the case everywhere or with everyone."

Seizing the opportunity, the Steward asked, "Is this why you accepted Lord Lansius' military support?"

"Did you forget that your council has briefed me on that?" she replied rather snarkily.

"My Lord, I recommended this because using Lowlandians against the Nicopolans is a great opportunity. Secondly, the area we loaned is just empty villages that we can't even protect. Lastly, since it's a loan, when they return it, we can probably even reap what they sow."

Beatrix grumbled. "I bet you're thinking you'll be safe behind the bulwark if the Lowlandians betray us."

The Steward smiled innocently and asked, "Is that wrong?"

"My kin can fight in the dark and climb where humans can't. But you shouldn't treat us as expendable."

"I wouldn't dare," he reassured her. "But then, what is your reasoning for trusting him? His offer for recognition or alliance is vague."

"I trust not the man, but his mate," she revealed.

"The Baroness of Korimor...?"

She nodded. "The man is elusive. But the woman, she's a fighter. And I trust her words. And by proxy, I also trust her mate."

Another bump in the road rocked the carriage, and the Lord grumbled loudly at her discomfort. The Steward chuckled, and she stared at him in protest. To distract her, the old man asked another question, "What about the Nicopolans?"

"What about them?" she responded, disinterested.

"Lord Lansius didn't ask, but I need to know, do you have a blood feud with the Nicopolans?"

"It's over." She snorted. "Nobody who killed the late Lord's family is alive now."

The Steward looked pleased but needed to confirm, "So the feud didn't extend to the rest of the Nicopolans?"

Beatrix furrowed her brow. "You think too lowly of me. We don't kill an entire tribe for what their fighters did."

"You are wise, Beatrix," the old man praised.

"No. I'm just old," Beatrix countered. "I'm already surpassing my prime. At best, I only have fifteen, if not twenty, years left."

The Steward ran his fingers through his hair. "I probably have less."

Beatrix laughed. "You jest. Humans live to over 100."

"That's for a healthy man. Not drunkard like me," he said, his face reddening as he joined her laughter.

After their laughter subsided, she said, "Don't die first. I'd hate to have to find another capable Steward."

The old man grinned at the praise and reciprocated, "You too, My Lord. I doubt I can find another wise leader from the bloodline."

For its walls and roof, the mud house used a mixture of gravel and clay, enhanced with straw, animal hair, and a bit of ash for better durability and water resistance. Ash from firewood made the mud less prone to cracking and shrinkage. Wood beams were used sparingly, as good wood was hard to find in Korelia.

The end result was a humble hovel-like longhouse that could accommodate tens of men, featuring a place for a fire that doubled as a cooking area, complete with basic ventilation. While it wasn't ideal, surviving winter in the steppe environment was always a tall order.

The report also stated that the nomads were unable to meet the demand for more yurts. As Lansius had anticipated, the nomads had limited production capabilities and were unlikely to meet the scale he needed. Yet, the number of yurts they had provided was already helpful, especially for future military campaigns if needed.

Lansius had nothing to comment on, so he moved on to the next report. This separate letter was from Calub. The alchemist reported on the eastern agriculture project. The windbreak trees needed time to grow, but they had transplanted several older ones from the forest or people's backyards to provide shelter for the smaller ones.

Calub ensured the trees were growing, as they are a vital part of this project to protect against soil erosion from the harsh steppe winds. He also thanked the botanist Lansius had sent from South Hill. The botanist suggested a variety of fruit trees that could serve as an additional row to protect future crops from the wind. More importantly, the botanist knew where to find and how to source these plants.

There was another separate letter specifying the types of plants, their maturity, their traits or the special properties of their fruits, and then their price.

It seems plant trade is something I overlooked.

Calub treated the botanist as his right-hand man, a status Lansius felt was well-earned. He had never expected a fruit grower from South Hill to be so well-connected in this niche trade.

As for the land itself, Calub reported he had used horse manure, which was aplenty, as compost for the soil. To protect it from wind erosion, they experimented by using the heavy iron plough the guild had acquired from Midlandia to turn the soil. They also allowed the goats to graze, trampling across the land to compact the soil and also to let their manure further enrich it.

Additionally, Calub had stockpiled a large amount of fertilizer made from ash, crushed eggshells, and bones, to be used once the windbreaks and walls were ready. He also mentioned that one of the newly constructed waterwheels was dedicated to elevating water for irrigating the eastern farm when needed.

Currently, he was preparing the land to absorb as much snow as possible, creating a form of water trap so the land would be benefited once the snow thawed.

Lansius was satisfied with the reports and couldn't think of anything to add, at least for this moment. He put it aside, trusting that his council could offer more insight. "Sterling, may I trouble you with something?"

"Of course, My Lord. What's on your mind?" he asked with his hand still holding a parchment.

"Before I forget, please inform the camp that we are guests on this land. So ensure they do not speak ill of our host or the half-breeds. Even inside the forest. Tell them to imagine as if the forest had ears."

"Certainly, My Lord. But, may I ask a question?"

Lansius gestured for him to continue.

"Is this precaution really necessary?"

"Why would you think it's not?" Lansius furrowed his brow.

"Well, some have speculated that there are probably only tens of half-breeds in Umberland. Otherwise, it's unlikely they would settle for peace. So, many think they're not much of a threat."

"That's just baseless speculation," Lansius sighed before adding, "Tribes don't survive 1500 years with just a handful of people. It's simply not possible. So, for them to have survived and thrived means their numbers are similar to those of our towns or villages."

Sterling was taken aback. "My Lord, are you suggesting they number in the thousands?"

"They must be at least 2,000 strong. And mind you, unlike humans, who only have a limited number of fighters in a community, all of these half-breeds could probably fight as well as the one we encountered that night."

The squire shuddered at the thought, a mixture of guilt and fear welling up within him.

Lansius had heard from Carla that Sterling blamed himself for missing the fight, yet he also admitted that he probably wouldn't have made a difference. The experience was a humbling one for the squire, akin to his encounter with the mage knight in the forest of Korelia that had nearly crippled him for life.

"Sterling," Lansius called warmly. "This is why war is never the correct answer."

The Lord's words struck a chord.

"What we do to our enemy, they can do to us. And losing a war gives the other side plenty of reason and motivation to retaliate."

"But My Lord, you've managed to end the last three wars on favorable terms, even with Lord Robert and Lord Jorge."

"Tell that to the mounds of people who died for our survival," Lansius retorted.

Sterling felt the shock of the blunt truth.

"It's easy to be swept away by the euphoria of victory and glory. But we must always remember the rows of mounds where the bravest lie," Lansius advised gently.

Sterling nodded, his face softening into understanding.

Lansius continued, "This is why I need you to spread the word. Let it be known clearly to everyone that we are not an occupying force. I have no intention of overstaying our welcome. It may be years, but when peace returns, this land will return to its rightful owners."

...

Having finished his work, Sterling exited the tent to relay the Lord's message to the Captains, who would then brief their lieutenants. Meanwhile, Audrey entered to find Lansius still perusing his letters. Without a glance at his work, she blurted out, "I fucked up!"

Lansius' brow arched as he met her gaze. "Come again?"

Averting her gaze to hide her reddened eyes, she muttered, "The magic. I don't have it."

"That can't be. I saw how you fought," he countered, rising to approach her.

Ingrid burst in at that moment, her face flushed, "My Lady, please--"

"No," Audrey cut her off. "If I have no talents, there's no need for false comfort."

Lansius turned to Ingrid. "What exactly happened?"

"My Lord, there's still hope," Ingrid implored.

"I understand, but first, tell me what the problem is," he urged with reassurance.

Ingrid looked downcast and hesitated. "I helped My Lady to tap into her source, but... we found nothing."

***