The Paladin of the Holy Kingdom, Part III: Act 1, Chapter 8

The Paladin of the Holy Kingdom, Part III: Act 1, Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Alright, I’m getting somewhere, now.

Liam thought that he was, at least. Though he had spent less than thirty minutes in House Restelo’s labour camp, what he learned in that time was enough for him to start making sense of how things really worked in Hoburns.

It was a familiar, yet unfamiliar situation. The unfamiliar part came in the form of the people, one of which was helping him pitch his tent.

“Thanks,” Liam said as he checked to make sure everything was done properly. “My name’s Liam, by the way.”

“Francisco,” the man stuck out his hand.

Liam gave the hand a firm shake. It was definitely weird.

As Remedios always insisted, the citizens of the Holy Kingdom were mostly good people. It was unlike Fassett County where generations of consistently terrible conditions and behaviour had transformed ‘terrible’ into ‘normal’. Instead, their ‘normal’ was still good and they were only starting to slide into the abyss that lay ahead of them.

In that sense, the labour camp was a place where people fought to keep their ‘normal’. People seemed neighbourly, there were no overt displays of belligerence or excess rowdiness, and things were kept in good order.

As if this wasn’t already complicated enough. Why can’t I just have a bad guy to kill?

It was something that Remedios would probably say, but the situation in the Holy Kingdom only seemed to get more convoluted the deeper he delved.

Liam tied the entry flap to his tent shut before leaving, glancing at the other plots as he walked by. Everyone around him was new to House Restelo, but they took pride in their new positions nonetheless. His surroundings resembled what he thought an army camp might look like, except more ‘lived-in’. There were eight tents to a cookfire and many were occupied not only by the new retainers, but also by their women or family members.

The deeper he went, the more like a village or town it felt. Women went about doing chores or tending to their children while chatting animatedly with their neighbours over any number of things. It occurred to him that he might become the odd one out if he didn’t follow suit and ‘find a girl’ as Jorge had suggested.

He found the platform with the red canvas easily enough. The entire area around was lit by mundane torches and mirrored lamps that were burning some sort of oil. The platform itself looked like some sort of office and was stocked with organised supplies behind a row of tables manned by liveried clerks.

Sir Luis was standing behind them, his arms crossed as he surveyed his domain. His hawkish eyes rested on Liam briefly before resuming their stern vigil. Liam went over to stand in front of him, quietly waiting for the man to say something. When he finally spoke, it was to someone behind his shoulder.

“Duerte, this one’s yours.”

A short, compact man sorting through the inventories along the left side of the platform rose and walked over to stand beside Sir Luis. He was dark of hair and eye like so many of the Holy Kingdom’s citizens, with an air that made him indistinguishable from the labourers that endlessly toiled around the city.

“Liam, Duerte.” Sir Luis said, “He’s in charge of your sort. Duerte, get Liam on the next port run.”

“Got it,” Duerte said. “Need gear?”

In response, Liam pulled out the dagger and knife he had picked up shortly after arriving in the Holy Kingdom, as well as a file, a length of wire, and a ring of metal picks. Fortunately, the equipment that Remedios ordered hadn’t come in yet or he’d have looked pretty suspicious.

Duerte exchanged a look with the overseer.

“We’re not going to steal anything, kid,” Duerte said. “Our job is to escort the wagons back and forth from Canta.”

Liam put his things away. At first, he thought what he had available looked a bit pitiful. Apparently, it was too much.

“Anything need smoothing out, sir?” Duerte asked.

“We haven’t received any reports about it, if so,” Sir Luis said before fishing a small purse from his belt and tossing it over. “Use that if you need it. The caravan master will handle everything else.”

The shorter man nodded once before turning on his heel to leave. A small group of men gathered nearby looked over from their low conversation and fell into step behind him.

“Who’s the new guy?” One of them asked.

“Goes by ‘Liam’,” Duerte answered. “Since you’re so curious about him, Pedro, you get to be his nanny for this run.”

“His moustache is too big to be my nanny,” Liam said.

The quip drew several chuckles from the men.

“She must have been a great beauty, this nanny,” Pedro clapped him on the back. “Do you know what we’re about, Liam?”

“I heard something about escorting wagons...”

“There is little to fear,” Pedro told him. “We’re to make sure no one gets close to take a nip out of the cargo. The caravaneers find it especially hard to spot people at night.”

“People are trying to steal from the wagons?” Liam asked.

“It is a sad thing, I know,” Pedro shook his head. “But hunger can make a man do things he otherwise would not. Knowing that we’re watching out for them is always enough to keep them at bay, however.”

They arrived at a line of wagons parked outside of the work camp. Only the two at the front were loaded with anything. Pedro handed Liam the torch he was carrying. Unlike the ones illuminating the labour camp, it was the magical sort that Miners and Adventurers used.Aall newest chapters on n.o./velbi/n/(.)com

“Follow me and hold that aloft,” Pedro told him. “We will come behind the wagons and make sure no one sneaks up on them.”

“You’re screening the left flank,” Durete told them.

“Eh?” Pedro visibly cringed, “Don’t you think that’s too much for young Liam to handle on his first run?”

“You have your orders, trooper.”

Duerte turned and left them to address some other men, clearly not expecting any protest. For his part, Pedro offered none, but the flickering torches nearby highlighted his glistening brow.

“D-don’t worry, young Liam,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”

But will you be fine?

The man was clearly worried about something, but Liam couldn’t tell what it was. He had been so certain of the ease of their task just moments before. They slowly made their way to the head of the caravan, taking so long that the wagons nearly started moving without them.

“Should I deactivate the torch?” Liam asked.

“No!” Pedro half-yelped, “No. It is night, yes?”

It was, but the moon was out and the skies were clear. The torch might help them see a short distance around themselves, but it blinded them from anything further away. Aside from the moon, all he could see beyond their little halo of light were the torches from the caravan and the other escorts.

Pedro swallowed as he looked up at the torch in Liam’s hand. Liam wondered if he would try to grab the thing.

“How long are we going to be out of the city for?” Liam asked.

“It is a day through the hills to Canta,” Pedro said. “We will rest for a half-day while the wagons are loaded, and then we will come back.”

Liam wondered how Remedios would react when he popped up after disappearing for three days. Hopefully, he would have some useful information to distract her with.

“House Restelo runs things like an army,” he said. “The camp I came through on the east side of the capital was a mess, so I was pretty surprised.”

“Ah, that would be Sir Luis’ doing.” Pedro seemed to relax further with every word. “He made a name for himself in the army, you see.”

“You mean he liked his time in the army so much that he’s running things like they would be in the army?”

“Crazy, no?” Pedro said, “At least for small folk like you and me. Sir Luis is a sir. A Knight. His family has served House Restelo for generations. When you and I were still helping our parents out as children, he was learning how to ride and kill. To people like Sir Luis, the army is the place where they stand head and shoulders above everyone else. They often think back fondly upon their time there.”

“That might be true,” Liam said, “but it looks like the camp is doing well because of it. Things are clean and organised. Lots of people are trying to join.”

Pedro nodded, a bit of pride filling his expression.

All conversation ceased as the escort scrambled to take their positions near the wagons. Duerte cranked three crossbows, placing two of them atop the cargo behind him. Not knowing what he was supposed to be doing, Liam walked lamely alongside the wagon, trying his best to look alert.

Ten minutes later, a set of torches came into view, resembling a long column of lights advancing up the road. Duerte raised a torch over his head, waving it in wide circles. A torch in the oncoming group waved back with a different motion.

“They’re ours,” Duerte called out.

Audible sighs of relief rose from behind them.

“Sorry,” Liam said, “I should have confirmed who it was.”

“You did what you were supposed to do,” Duerte said. “You’re not wearing house colours, so getting close to ‘em might have gotten you killed.”

He wasn’t so sure about that. Duerte’s group took significantly longer to detect the incoming wagons than Liam had. If they represented the average security detail from House Restelo, he was confident that he would have gotten away undetected.

The wagons didn’t stop as they passed one another the night, but a man in house colours hopped off of the other side’s lead vehicle.

“I’ll catch up,” he told his people.

“Cortez,” Duerte nodded. “What’s ahead of us?”

“Harvest’s started,” Cortez replied. “House Cohen’s on security.”

“Damn,” Duerte spat. “They got all of them?”

“All that we could see. I figured they’d be ahead, but I still expected a mix.”

“They give you any trouble?”

“There are two Barons and a hundred Knights overseeing the harvest, so they know it’d be our fight to lose. What about things on your end?”

“Nothing,” Duerte replied. “It’s quiet all the way to the western gate.”

With that, the man turned with a wave and jogged back to catch up with the head of his caravan. Liam silently counted the number of wagons as they went by.

“Will House Cohen give us trouble?” He asked.

“Why would you think that?” Duerte asked back.

“Our cargo’s valuable, right?” Liam said, “Everyone’s getting crazier and crazier over valuables.”

“In the city, sure,” Duerte told him. “But that’s not how the game’s played between the Nobles. House Cohen’s claimed responsibility for the lands around Canta. If caravans start getting raided, that’s on their heads and you can bet your ass that the other Nobles will jump at the chance to knock them off of their comfy perch. They need to keep things nice and orderly or they’ll lose face in court.”

It took an hour for them to pass the end of the other caravan. Liam returned to his position, wondering why the caravans needed such a large escort if things were as Duerte had asserted.

They crossed two more caravans before making it over the pass. On the other side, the first hints of dawn painted the eastern sky and Liam could barely make out the bay separating the northern Holy Kingdom from the south. Dotting the coast on both sides were the lighthouses that marked every port and hazard.

Three hours more saw them entering the orchards that Pedro had mentioned. Duerte called everyone in as a pair of riders in chainmail armour cantered up the road toward them. One of them bore a tall banner and they both wore surcoats dyed in the red and blue stripes of House Cohen. Once they reached the front of the caravan, they wheeled their warhorses around and walked them alongside the lead wagon.

“Toll,” the one closest to Duerte said. “Five copper per wagon.”

With one hundred wagons in the caravan, that still added up to a lot.

“What’s your name, Sir?” Duerte asked.

“Escada.”

“Since when are tolls collected right on the damn road, Sir Escada?” Duerte asked.

“You know how it is,” Sir Escada answered. “House Cohen won the security rights over this territory, but their rivals still found a way to make themselves a pain in the ass. We got the land and the roads, but we didn’t get the customs office in Canta.”

Duerte snorted and laughed. Liam couldn’t quite believe how cordial their exchange was.

“Well,” Duerte said as he pointedly eyed the tracks cut deep into the road by the passage of countless wagons, “your road is shit, either way.”

“We’re already working on it,” Sir Escada said. “Don’t worry: we’ll start taxing your freight along with your wagons once we finally get the office.”

Their caravan’s toll dropped into Sir Escada’s awaiting gauntlet. The two Knights didn’t immediately leave as Liam thought they would, instead continuing to accompany them south to the port. Not long after, they went by the first group of labourers bringing in the summer harvest. Hundreds of them were spread across the orchards to either side, delivering baskets filled with fruit to the roadside.

Liam watched as a girl around his age set down her load nearby. She picked up a bright red nectarine from the top of her basket and bit into it, smiling the biggest smile ever as juice dribbled down her chin. If it were the Sorcerous Kingdom, an Elder Lich would have probably flown down and pestered her for that. They hated it when people messed up the numbers.

“Hey, girl,” Duerte called down as they rolled by, “how much for a basket of those?”

The girl held up a hand and lay two fingers against her palm. Duerte fished out two gold coins and eight silver ones from his purse, holding them out in Liam’s direction.

“Grab four baskets,” Duerte said. “Pass ‘em down the line.”

Liam grabbed Pedro, who motioned for two others to join them. The girl grinned at him as he gave her the coins, a piece of fruit still stuck in her teeth.

Wait a minute...

“I think that was all an act to get you to buy some fruit,” Liam said after he returned to the lead wagon.

“No shit,” Duerte said. “It’s still ten times cheaper than it’d be in the city. They sold us all the ones that were getting overripe anyway.”

“You knew all that before telling me to buy them?”

“Yeah. I grew up on a farm like this, after all. I know all their tricks.”

“Well, uh...thanks for the fruit.”

Dante cast him a sidelong glance.

“I didn’t just buy ‘em to get on everyone’s good side.”

“Really?” Liam frowned.

The wagons had carried rations for its escort, so he figured it was just a nice treat.

“If you plan on getting ahead,” Duerte told him, “you better learn quick. I don’t know half of the men in this escort and that includes you. I’m letting you stuff your faces right now to curb any thoughts of pocketing some peaches for yourselves along the way. That thing I talked about a while ago works both ways. House Cohen would simply love it if someone from House Restelo was caught causing trouble on their watch.”

Liam eyed the Knights riding alongside them, as well as the men-at-arms stationed regularly along the road. None of them reacted in any way to Duerte’s words.

The sun was touching the western sea by the time they reached Canta. It turned out that roadwork had indeed begun. The two Knights who had accompanied them through the orchards to the port offered a sharp salute before riding back the way they came. It was only as he watched their shrinking banner flutter in the evening light that all of the pieces fell together.

Will it even be possible to topple these guys?

Whenever people mentioned ‘the establishment’, caricatures of greedy aristocrats and their idiotic thugs came to Liam’s mind: evil people who heedlessly piled up atrocious acts as if daring justice to come down on them like a hammer. He couldn’t have been more wrong – that image was just one concocted by a naïve kid who thought that he had the power to bring change, or maybe by Bards spinning tales of villains whom the audience could easily hate. Liam, of all people, should have known better.

Better for people like us to cast our lot with the great lords. To do otherwise would be as futile as rowing against the tide

The true establishment was not just the Nobles, but everyone who worked for them. Every man wearing their colours and every tenant labouring on their land. Its members didn’t have to be a great Knight like Sir Luis – they could just as easily be a girl selling overripe peaches to passers-by. The point was that they all worked towards the prosperity of the house that they served, for their own prosperity was dependent upon it.

That establishment – formed out of all of those houses – played by the rules. They didn’t need to do anything else because the rules were already on their side. The greatest, most ambitious houses of the Holy Kingdom were in Hoburns, and with them came the best and brightest of the Holy Kingdom.

The reality of things was that Liam was just as powerless as he had been against House Fassett. He was a single, small piece in a conflict that involved millions, and he seriously doubted that he would ever find an angle to exploit.