The Paladin of the Holy Kingdom, Part III: Act 4, Chapter 12
Chapter 8
“Here come some more…”
On the road to Lloyds, Neia and Saye munched on a breakfast of freshly-picked forest berries as they watched a pair of people walk toward them from the east. They wore working garb and carried little more than their nervous expressions as they went by.
“Hi,” Neia said.
They flinched as Neia smiled and waved. A second later, they broke and fled into a nearby field.
“I bet you like scaring people,” Saye looked at Neia’s berry-stained fingers.
“I don’t!” Neia said defensively, “It’s just a habit. People usually greet each other, don’t they?”
“Not really,” Saye said. “In most places I’ve been to, the locals tend to be suspicious of outsiders. The only other place I know of where people greet strangers on the road like that is the Draconic Kingdom. Everyone’s nice there.”
Neia could only envy how well-travelled the Bard was. Going to Rimun on holy days and being assigned to various patrols marked the extent of her travels before the war. Accompanying the delegation to Re-Estize and the Sorcerous Kingdom was an experience undreamed of before it happened.
“What’s the Draconic Kingdom like?” Neia asked.
“They were being invaded by Beastmen when I was there with some others. One time, a Beastman patrol found us while we were travelling in the countryside. It was the rainy season and it rains so hard in the Draconic Kingdom that you can barely see in front of your face. The patrol somehow knew we were there before I noticed them.”
Neia’s eyes widened and she swallowed. There were a few different races of Beastmen in the Abelion Hills and all of them were much stronger than Humans. Most importantly, they ate humans.
“What happened after that?”
“We were stopped on the road and they spoke to us. They were worried that we would get sick in the rain and gave us directions to the closest town.”
“Huh?”
She’s talking about the Beastmen, right?
“I told you everyone was nice there,” Saye said.
Neia cast a blank stare at the road ahead. The Beastmen here didn’t do that. Did that mean the Draconic Kingdom was a nicer place than the Holy Kingdom?
A few minutes later, a man and a woman walked by. This time, they bolted when Neia looked at them.
“Looks like another brother and sister,” Saye said.
“I don’t get why they’re running,” Neia said.
“…because they don’t want to die?” Saye gave her a funny look, “Also, you’re glaring at them without your mask.”
“I-I’m not glaring at them! Also, there’s no guarantee that they’ll die! Before Jaldabaoth’s invasion, most people who went to the wall survived.”
Six out of ten was a perfectly respectable survival rate. More importantly, it wasn’t fair that some people thought they could escape their duties while others accepted them with good grace.
Another escapee came running their way around the same time that the walls of Lloyds appeared on the horizon. This one, however, was accompanied by the sound of galloping hooves. Two mounted armsmen appeared shortly after, shouting at the man to stop.
“Would anyone stop in that situation?” Saye muttered.
“They should,” Neia said. “If you give law enforcement officials trouble, it just gets you in deeper trouble.”
“Deeper trouble than being put on the wall?”
Neia gave the Bard a sour look. Ahead of them, the two armsmen were still trying to stop the runaway, wheeling their mounts this way and that as the man ran all over the place. Eventually, they got fed up with it and one of the armsmen jabbed the man in the stomach with the butt of his spear. The man crumpled to the ground with an empty wheeze.
“So is it always like this when they send people to the army?” Saye asked.
“Of course not!” Neia answered, “Serving in the Royal Army is something everyone has to do so there isn’t usually any fuss. People muster at the local town or city of their own accord when it’s their turn to serve.”
“Then why are people acting like this?”
“Because…”
Her thoughts went to her dinnertime discussion the previous evening.
“It’s because we just fought a war. Plus, the Royal Court suspended its policy of mandatory military service. Now, they’re suddenly calling people into service. Even though everyone is being subjected equally to the ordinance, some people still think it isn’t fair.”
In hindsight, suspending that policy had been a terrible idea. They had learned during the war – or at least she thought they did – that reinforcing the army wasn’t as simple as calling up some reservists to make up for their mounting casualties. The first few weeks following the fall of the Great Wall had been a veritable meat grinder where hundreds of thousands of reservists were flung into the jaws of Jaldabaoth’s Demihuman army with nothing to show for it but well-fed enemies.
Additionally, the dismal recruitment numbers for the Royal Army once service became voluntary had been a clear warning of what would occur should they try something like this. It was strange that the scions she was with immediately understood what would happen the moment they were made aware of the order, yet the Royal Court did not…or maybe they did and did it anyway because they didn't think they had a choice.
By the time Neia and Saye walked by, the runaway was getting his wrists bound. He had started screaming about unfairness and not wanting to go before that, so they gagged him first. The armsmen seemed surprised that Neia and Saye had closed the distance between them so quickly.
“Is he a bad man?” Saye asked, wide-eyed.
“He’s a miscreant who put himself above his fellow citizens,” one of the armsmen nodded.
“What happened?” Neia asked.
The armsman’s eyelid twitched as he met her gaze.
“Where are you two from?” He asked.
“A place northeast of Bast,” Neia answered.
It wasn’t a lie. Lord Aston’s place was a bit northeast of the town. The two armsmen traded looks.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” the first one said.
Wow, they really are trying to keep it a secret from us.
“What are you doing all the way out here?” The second armsman asked.
“We picked some mushrooms after it rained!” Saye shifted the covered basket slung over her shoulders with an excited voice, “Someone said we could get something nice if we sold them in the city.”
Neia offered her own basket up for inspection, but the armsman only took a look at Saye’s before smiling at the Bard.
“You two should go on ahead and do just that, little miss. I’m sure the boys in the camp will appreciate some variety for dinner.”
The two armsmen waved at Saye and they went on their way. Neia wrestled with the complicated feelings welling up within her as they resumed their journey to the city’s western gate.
“I told you it would work,” Saye said.
“But…but I don’t like this. It feels horrible!”
She wouldn’t say that she was hungry for attention, but becoming effectively nonexistent wasn’t in any way desirable. It was supposed to be the springtime of her youth, but it felt like winter had already come for her.
Roughly two kilometres outside of the city gate, they came across the familiar sight of one of the royalist work camps. A set of men at a makeshift checkpoint stopped them on the road, and Neia tensed as they approached.
“‘Morning,” an officious-looking fellow came forward with a clipboard. “Where are you from?”
“A clearance northeast of Bast, sir,” Neia replied.
“A clearance huh…”
It was supposedly a safe answer, according to Saye. Naming a village might lead to probing questions about that village or its residents to discern the truth of their claim. A clearance, on the other hand, was just a nameless new place created by the frenzy of the industrial activity characteristic of the reconstruction period. Much like the labour camps – well, they were labour camps – they were all unofficial, none of them had names, and anyone from anywhere could end up in one.
“What brings you to the city?”
Saye unshouldered her basket, looking up at the ‘customs officer’ with her big blue eyes as she held it up in front of her.
“My sister said that someone said that we can get something nice for these.”
The sentries gave Neia suspicious looks before one of them gingerly lifted the cover of Saye’s basket. Neia glowered at them, wondering what they were expecting and why it was somehow her fault.
“Let’s see…mushrooms?”
“Yup!” Saye beamed.
“I see,” the customs officer said as the sentries visibly relaxed. “I’veo doubt you’ll be able to sell them, but I recommend that you do so in the camp up ahead.”
“Why?”
“It’s just better.”
“Why?”
“Because we charge a toll for goods going into the city.”
“Why?”
“To make sure the roads are safe, well-maintained, and that everyone that works to keep things in good order is paid.”
“Okay.”
Saye’s eyes went from the officer to Neia. Neia nodded and ushered Saye along.
“That’s the meanest-looking sister I’ve ever seen,” one of the sentries said after they left.
“It’s no wonder they dumped her in the woods,” another sentry said.
Neia sniffed, doing her best not to flee in the face of their harsh laughter.
“Are you going to cry?” Saye asked.
“N-No,” Neia wiped her eyes. “Where are we going now?”
“The work camp. I don’t want to get all the money for our mushrooms taxed away. How is that even legal?”
“It’s because the royalists are the acting lords here. That means they have the right to charge tolls for the roads that go through their lands.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen this happen in any other country,” Saye said. “I mean, tolls are charged for roads that the local lords are maintaining, but this is crazy. Why doesn’t someone do something about it?”
“Because the Holy King doesn’t want to do anything about it.”
Infuriatingly, King Caspond was blind to what was going on in his kingdom. The last time he had made a public appearance was during his ascension. If it wasn’t for the intermittent meetings of the Royal Court, one would think he didn’t exist at all. By all reports, he was actually pleased with the ‘progress’ that the Holy Kingdom was making and encouraging more of the same.
They quieted down as they approached the entrance of the labour camp, which was marked with the banners of the presiding house. Neia looked up at the unfamiliar heraldry, which was dominated by a woven circle of vines and flowers, then stepped closer to Saye.
“Which house is this?” She whispered.
“House Horta. The second son, Elano, is in charge.”
“He already sounds like an asshole,” Neia muttered.
Anyone who could stoop to the measures she had seen so far had to be an absolute jerk.
They joined the traffic in the narrow lane between the rows of white tents. It had the vague feel of an army camp, though it was closer to the ones during the war where civilians were mixed in with the soldiery. The lane eventually led to a circular clearing that Neia supposed acted as the camp’s ‘market plaza’. Long tables were set up under a canopy of colourful tents where an array of goods and services that one might find in a town were on offer.
Neia frowned as she examined both the vendors and their customers. The goods were normal enough, but the transactions were being conducted with unfamiliar metal coins. She was still trying to figure out what they were when Saye stopped at a cooking area on one side of the clearing. The Bard placed her basket on a cleared counter and Neia followed suit. It wasn’t long until a skinny fellow dressed as a cook came to speak to them.
“Good morning,” he said. “What do you have for us?”
“Mushrooms!” Saye grinned.
The cook dragged one of the baskets toward him and flipped back the cloth cover. He picked up several, taking a good whiff of each before calling over an older cook.
“What do you think?” He asked.
After going through the same inspection, the older cook looked over the counter at them.
“These aren’t field mushrooms. Where did you find these?”
“In the forest northwest of here,” Neia replied.
“The forest…?” The cook frowned for a moment, “They’re pretty fresh.”
They probably were, considering that they had picked them outside of Lord Aston’s manor before running over to Lloyds.
She knew she had gotten stronger over the course of the war, but it still shocked her that they could cover what was normally a day’s travel in three hours. Maybe it was Saye’s Spellsong that did most of the work.
The older chef wiped a hand on his apron before producing a coin purse. He counted out twenty-four of the strange copper coins and pushed them forward.
“If you gather more,” he said, “we’ll be happy to take them off your hands.”
“What are these?” Neia eyed the coins, “They don’t look like money.”
“House Horta scrip. Each chit is worth a full meal at this kitchen. You can use them at the other vendors too, of course.”
This is barely enough to get by…
If they ate three meals a day, travelling back and forth from Lloyds would eat half of the chits. One normally spent a full day foraging, leaving six chits to cover all their expenses outside of food.
Still, the scrip had an advantage over regular coinage due to the fact that it was worth exactly one meal, no matter what happened. She could see how it might be considered an attractive alternative considering the insane prices in Hoburns.
No, that’s wrong. The royalist houses are peddling this scrip as a solution to the problems that they created in the first place. I bet they get something out of doing this, too.
They thanked the cook for his business and went to wander around the rest of the market. Neia quietly watched Saye as she stopped to chat with a vendor selling clay pots.
“Are you from House Horta?” The Bard asked.
“All of the Merchants here work for ‘em,” the shopkeeper replied. “I’m from a village on the Horta Delta.”
“How come everyone doesn’t just work in the city?”
“Because the locals are keeping us out! The Guilds in Lloyds are adamant about ‘defending’ their position and refuse to let us do business. But we’re here to help rebuild the place no matter what they say, so the young lord established this camp. Bet those pricks in the city regret being so stubborn now.”
From the outside, Lloyds didn’t look like it needed to be ‘rebuilt’ anymore, so Neia wondered what he was talking about. There was a lot of damage caused by the invasion, plus its siege and recapture by the Holy Kingdom’s forces, so maybe there was plenty of work to be done inside the walls.
“We’re from the country,” Saye said, “so we don’t know much about the city. Why can’t they share?”
“I think everyone here’s asked the same thing at some point,” the shopkeeper shrugged. “My guess is that they’re being greedy. All those people with their fancy workshops are trying to keep us from feeding ourselves. The young lord said that there’s more than enough work for everyone, but the shops in Lloyds want all of it. We came from the south to help out, and this is how they act toward us.”
“They sound like a bunch of meanies,” Saye said with a worried frown.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” the man nodded.
The next three shopkeepers Saye spoke with shared a similar tale, leaving Neia to wonder if there was actually something to what they said. It was true that there was still a lot of work left to be done in the north and that they couldn’t do it without the south’s help. The persistent labour camps that the royalists established may have been initially caused by some other conflict that simply escalated until the system that they now saw in front of them manifested.
Duke Debonei told her that there were three ‘social groups’ in the Holy Kingdom. There was the Crown – which included the Temples since they always stood behind the Holy King – the aristocracy, and the rural common folk. However, that was just how the aristocracy saw it.
To Neia and other urbanites, the societal divisions were different. There was the Crown, and under the Crown were its four supporting pillars: the Temples, the Military, the Bessarez Dynasty – which normally included the Ducal houses – and the cities, which were a part of the Holy King’s demesne.
On the other side were the rural aristocrats – colloquially known as the nobility – and the rural common folk who lived in their lands. While that didn’t sound like much, rural subjects actually made up close to ninety per cent of Roble’s total population.
In short, the normal state of the Holy Kingdom of Roble was a perpetual power struggle between the urban and rural populations while getting nibbled by Demihumans on the side. Given that Humans were Humans, Neia suspected that most Human kingdoms and empires experienced the same problems. Saye’s accounts of the Empire seemed to indicate just that.
The way the royalists did things may have resulted from some incident or behaviour inherent to that struggle. She couldn’t blindly assume that it was out of a desire to sate some comical sense of greed as many might assume, as the general behaviour of the royalists outside of a few isolated incidents was still in line with the orderly nature of the Holy Kingdom.
Before they left the camp to enter Lloyds, Saye used their scrip to purchase a bag of flour. She had it split between two sacks so they could each carry half in their baskets. The shopkeeper of the mill handed them a carved wooden token after that.
“What’s this for?” Neia asked.
“Proof of purchase,” he answered. “Hold onto it if you plan on looking around the city before going home so they don’t tax you for your flour. The sentries at the checkpoint will take it back on your way out.”
“That makes sense. Thanks.”
The scrip was practically useless outside of the labour camp, so she was wondering how outsiders made use of it.
When they approached the city gate, Neia was reminded of their current situation as an armsman tackled a civilian who broke through a cordon of wooden barriers. The two men struggled on the road in front of her until two other armsmen jogged over to help hold the civilian down.
“Is there a war in there?” Saye asked.
The first armsman, who was pinning the runner with his knee, looked up at Saye with a bemused look.
“No, young miss,” he said, “just a bunch of honourless cowards. Your big sis there can probably scare ‘em off with a look. Hold on a bit while we deal with this fella.”
After having his wrists bound, the man still refused to cooperate so he was dragged back into the gate kicking and screaming. When one of the barriers was opened to let him through, a whole group of men and women came out of nowhere and rushed the gate. They threw themselves bodily at the sentries, knocking them over in their mad scramble.
“We need help down here!”
“Freeeeeeedom!!!”
“Ow! What the–this bitch bit me!”
Neia and Saye stepped to the side of the road as chaos mounted in front of the gate. Roughly two-thirds of the runaways got past the cordon and fled into the countryside, avoiding the road and its checkpoint. She watched as those who were left behind were subdued by the armsmen coming down from the wall through the gatehouse.
What has the Holy Kingdom become?
Not three months before, they were fighting shoulder to shoulder to liberate their home. Now, it looked like it was everyone for themselves.
“What will happen to all the people who are caught?” Saye asked, “Do they get punished?”
“They have to serve in the army,” Neia said, “so doing something on top of that would be counterproductive.”
“Doesn’t that mean they have nothing to lose by trying to run?”
“They should be proud to serve!” Neia replied, “Every country needs an army to protect it, and the way we choose people is impartial. That guy from before said it: those who try to escape conscription are people who think their lives are worth more than those of their fellow citizens.”
It wasn’t as if they were being sent to some far-flung place that the Holy Kingdom had no business being in. Military service was always essential for their country’s survival.
“Like I said,” the man who initially spoke to them said, “honourless cowards. Come on, let’s get you in the city before another group of vermin tries to escape.”
The man guided them past the group being bound and through the opening in the cordon. Beyond, a small crowd of spectators curiously watched the scene.
“Do you have people trying to run everywhere?” Neia asked.
“Nah,” the armsman said. “The folks out in the country understand their obligations and why they exist. It’s these wretches in the cities and towns that cause all of the problems. They’re like animals that only think of themselves. Oh, before I forget, let’s take a look at your tokens.”
Once the man verified their wooden tokens, he bid them a good day and returned to the gate. Neia hesitated for several seconds before walking further into the city, fearing what sort of conflicts awaited within. To her surprise, however, things were generally orderly and the citizens seemed to be going about their daily business as usual.
“What are you buying me, big sis?” Saye asked.
Neia examined the storefronts as they walked by.
“Let’s see…wait, why am I buying you stuff?”
“Isn’t that what big sisters should do?”
“But…”
She reached inside her skirt pocket for her coin purse. Infuriatingly, she still somehow only had the remains of her parents’ allowance. Los Ganaderos, like most rural inhabitants, used a system of credit and debts were settled at the same time that goods were delivered and pay distributed. She wouldn’t be paid for her work until the herds were delivered, which would be in a year or so.
“On second thought,” Saye said as she eyed the contents of Neia’s purse, “maybe I should pay for everything.”
“Somehow, that makes it even worse.”
“Don’t worry big sis,” Saye patted her on the back, “I’ll take care of you until you get your life straightened out. Actually, here…”
Saye dug into her pocket and pulled out a fistful of coins, dropping them into Neia’s purse. Neia gaped silently at the gold trade coins as she counted.
Three, five, six, eight, eleven…
“It’ll look better if you pay for your own stuff,” Saye told her.
“ …you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you.”
“I’m just trying to help!”
Neia frowned at Saye’s innocent expression. The Bard just loved to tease her in all sorts of twisted ways.
Foot traffic stalled as the wagons ahead of them took turns going around a giant hole in the road. As the armsman at the gate asserted, there was still plenty of work to be had. Plenty of damage from the war remained unrepaired in favour of fixing more critical issues.
Before long, they arrived at the city harbour, where Neia figured she could get a decent read on how Lloyds was doing. Several ranks of men were under guard at the base of one of the piers, which she assumed were conscripts awaiting transport. The rest of the wharf was decently busy, with lumber aplenty marked for the south.
They separated themselves from the traffic, walking over to the waterfront. Neia leaned on a wooden railing as she scanned the bay for ships.
“Life seems normal enough here.”
Just as she said that, a man ran by them and jumped over the rail, landing in the water with a loud splash. Two armsmen jogged over and watched the man swim away. One of them clicked his tongue.
“Does he really think he can get away like that?”
“I don’t think he’s thinking at all,” the other armsman said.
The two walked off, shadowing the swimmer from the shore. Out in the water, a rowboat came up behind the escapee. One of the armsmen in the boat reached out and grabbed the man by his collar, pulling him aboard when he finally exhausted himself. Neia and Saye watched as he was delivered to the ranks awaiting transport to the wall, his wet and miserable countenance the only reward for his troubles.
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