Vusato’s gaze flicked at Alden for a moment. His horse plodded steadily, as he took a moment before speaking. “This barony is large enough,” he said. “Larger than most, because not many choose to live this close to the northeast, where the monsters come down. Whether you call it lucky or unlucky is up to you.”

  "Still, what marks our borders?" Alden asked again.

  Vusato glanced at him sideways, before he looked ahead again, his voice carrying over the sound of hoofbeats. “The barony runs west some distance ahead of the Lokir River—until the Pinotian Mountain Range starts. In the north, again up to the mountains. In the northeast, the border is assumed to be the outpost, not that there is any human living ahead of that to contest our claims if we wanted—that's monster territory."

  The majordomo continued, "It’s all forested land right to the coast in our east and southeast, so no one marks the exact border, but you can say that our eastern boundary is at the coast, while the south-eastern border is taken as somewhere in the middle of the woods between Sarnok and Laridan. To the southwest, it stops about a third of the way to Tevrim.”

  Alden blinked. “Only a third? Shouldn’t it be halfway between the villages?”

  Vusato rubbed the crown of his head with his hand, fingers moving gently over the bald skin. “You really weren't listening when I told you about these things in the past..." He sighed. "I guess I can give you a refresher since you are finally showing interest in it.”

  Alden let a grin push through. “Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Go on.”

  “The border used to be closer to the midpoint,” Vusato said, easing back in the saddle as he spoke, “but not any more. Now it stops where the coal hills are.”

  “Coal hills?” Alden echoed.

  “Where the coal mines are located,” Vusato answered. “Those hills—including the mines—used to belong to Sarnok when your grandfather ruled the barony. Then—well, he fell ill in the winter, and passed away a few months later. I'd told you about that earlier. Your father was young at the time, stuck at his bedside in those months. Baron Marachi of Tevrim took advantage. He moved in and seized the hills and the mines.”

  Alden vaguely remembered hearing the name in some past lessons with the majordomo. “When did this happen?”

  “About 25 years back,” Vusato said. “There was also some tension between your father and your uncle Lidoroc about inheriting the title—since your father only wanted to keep protecting the people from the monsters as a knight, while your uncle was far more interested in ruling the barony. But as tradition calls, your grandfather named the older son as the next baron with his last breath, which was... not easily accepted by your uncle. By the time your father took the new title and got things under control, Marachi had been running the coal mines for a few months already."

  The majordomo exhaled loudly. "I'd told you that a harsh winter that year had decimated nearly half of our guard force, when they had to deal with a sudden surge of monsters in early spring. After your grandfather died in the summer, your father had to pick up the pieces, and Sarnok remained far too weak for quite some time as we recruited and trained more guards. That's also when we had to sell the dwarfs we had as slaves, to raise enough gold to pay the taxes that autumn as well as the wages of the miners and the guards. We were simply not in a position to fight for the mines at the time, with the next winter already so close. So Marachi kept them, despite our complaints to the Duke in Garitus City. ”

  Alden thought about the good times during his grandfather’s reign compared to how it was today. The time when Sarnok owned more land as well as a coal mine, apart from the iron mine which they still held. He pictured Sarnok’s patched roofs and the lean faces he'd seen in the market today, and thought of how different things might have been if those mines still paid their dues into the manor. “If we still had those coal mines, it could have changed a lot for the village...”

  Vusato’s mouth pressed flat. “You're right, especially with the current condition our finances are in... Our iron's demand has been falling for the last few years, since a new iron mine found in the south of the kingdom sells their ore more cheaply than we can, and they can supply it all year round, unlike us."

  Alden took a deep breath. All they had going for them was that iron mine, but if the iron demand was already falling...

  "What about the mages? Is it not possible for us to get the help from one of them to produce iron more cheaply? Then we could compete with that other iron mine again."

  Vusato looked at him for a moment before he burst out in laughter. "A small village like Sarnok? Affording to hire a mage?" He shook his head, getting his laughter under control. "No, it's just not feasible. Although it would have been wonderful if Daelus had chosen to come back after receiving his mage training from Garitus' archmage..."

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  Alden raised his eyebrows, his jumbled memories not recalling the name immediately. "Daelus?"

  Vusato frowned. "You don't remember Daelus? You still feeling tired or something?" He shook his head. "Daelus is your childhood friend from the village. He moved to Garitus a decade ago when it was discovered he could use mana. You must surely have met with him last winter in Garitus."

  Alden finally recalled some vague memories about Daelus—a purple-haired village kid who used to be his childhood playmate in Sarnok. Being an orphan since childhood, Daelus had moved away to get mage training when he was just eight, and now they barely got to meet each other—when everyone abandoned the village for Garitus in the winters. He remembered that the original Alden had a strong bond of friendship with him, and they had always gotten along pretty well with each other. It wouldn't do well to let the majordomo think he had forgotten someone like Daelus.

  "Yeah," he quickly added. "Of course I remember him. How can I forget my best friend...?"

  The majordomo nodded. "Anyway, Daelus would have finished his decade-long mage training this summer. And if he was going to return here to help us in any way, he already would have. Doesn't seem like it's going to happen anymore. Still, you are right in saying that having access to those coal mines would have helped us a lot, especially in our currently difficult times to make up the shortfall in revenue. Winters are harsh in this region, and coal demand is never going to fall. But those mines are not ours anymore.”

  Alden swallowed. He remembered some of the original Alden’s memories—talk of revenue numbers with his father, the old man’s scrawl on account ledgers, the words 'it's not looking good...' being repeated many times. He didn’t remember the exact numbers, but knew the essence of it: thinner coffers, harder choices.

  But what did it say for the future of Sarnok? What could he even do to help the village at this rate? The coal mines were lost, the iron demand was falling and Garitus was likely going to ask for a protection fee for letting the villagers inside their walls. He kept his thoughts to himself though.

  Vusato nudged his horse forward. "Well, let's keep moving. We have to return to the safety of the village walls after visiting the river before it gets dark."

  ***

  They had been moving for nearly an hour now, and they still hadn't reached the Lokir River. Alden looked at the majordomo.

  "Why is the village located so far from the river anyway? Wouldn't it have made more sense to build the village closer to it?"

  Vusato shrugged. "It's just a matter of practicality. The village was founded long before I was born, but from its current location, the iron mines in the northern hills are just half an hours' walk away, even though it means the river takes more than an hour of riding. But this way, the laborers who go to the mines only have to waste an hour walking back-and-forth from the village every day, which saves time and means more ore being mined and more revenue in turn. On the other hand, the merchants need to take ore to the river only around once a week, so it's fine if it takes a little longer. That's why building the village as close to the mines as possible was far more efficient than the other way."

  Alden nodded. It was just a practical decision, although even that half hour being wasted on every trip from the village to the mines seemed inefficient to him. However, that couldn't be helped, since the northern hills started just a few hundred meters away from the village, and it wouldn't have been possible to build the houses on that hilly terrain.

  They followed the narrow track between low clumps of trees and shrubs. Branch tips brushed Alden’s cloak as they rode, while the sunlight felt warm on his face where it found some space in the canopy to reach lower. Dust rose under the horses' hooves and hung in the light for a few moments before it settled again. The pace stayed easy, steady enough that his mind wandered while the leather creaked and the wet smell of mud filled his nose—mostly to what would happen if monsters ambushed them, but at least he hadn't heard a growling sound from within the forest...

  Before long, the trees started to thin and the air turned cool and damp. He heard water before he saw it—a regular slap against wood, a faint rasp of reeds and the constant gurgle of flowing water. Right after the next bend in the path, the river opened up in front of them.

  The Lokir ran broad and slow, sunlight shimmering across its surface. It wasn't the biggest river Alden had seen, but it was still a fairly big one. A short but sturdy pier jutted from the closer bank, the planks dark and patched in places, with a small sized sailboat tied next to it. Five wagons loaded with iron ore were parked one behind another near the pier, while one was already being unloaded into the boat. A small group of people was busy at work—a man eased a basket into a smaller rowboat on the side, another knelt at the edge with a net spread over his knees, untangling it into something usable—likely a group of fishermen. A boy ran to the end of the pier, before he jumped straight ahead, hit the water hard, and came up grinning.

  Alden drew a long breath and let it out. It smelled of mud and wet wood. No stone embankments, no concrete bridges—just water, green grasses, and the single old pier that seemed to be sagging from use.

  They rode down to the bank. The men and women already there glanced up at the horses and with quick nods of respect to the majordomo and Alden, they went back to work. A cart rattled down the slope with barrels. Nets came up from the rowboat and were folded away. A man swung a coil of rope onto his shoulder. Two guards in leather armor and wooden shields on their backs were keeping an eye on the sailboat, with their spears propped within reach, and short swords tied on their waists.