The Great Hall was loud and cheerful, with fresh flat bread platters piled high and pitchers of wine, or at least posca, taking pride of place on the tables. And beside it was a riot of greens, foraged and farmed, stewed into a unique puls greatly enhanced by the addition of ubiquitous and delicious wild meats. Roasted, fried, stuffed and even rotisseried.

  Five rings took pride of place down the middle of the U made by the tables low to the sides and high across the top. The first was filled with a decade of new Principes, their wooden blades clashed against one another as they moved in a precisely controlled dance. The standard fighting forms slowed to a muscle spasming grace as swords moved in concert no less lethal, even in wood, for all its grace.

  Moving from attack to defense, where every contact snapped like distant thunder. Stats and skills lent hidden energy in a way that seemed to reject the slow speeds at which they moved.

  And in counterpoint to their skilled grace, behind them were the courts of the fist. Where red-eyed men worked out their anger with amateurish well-skinned fists and eyes already blackened. Enthusiastic, but hardly graceful or skilled.

  It was the usual entertainment, in a place where musicians were rare and acrobats or jugglers nearly unknown. Despite their limited means, the final ring held something different. Exotic but fast becoming a local favorite.

  Two Pahadi’s stood nearly bare-chested, a simple leather strap bearing a thin line of protruding local wildflowers draped across their sweating chests. In one hand stood their regular bucklers. In the other, the forward sloped knife-cum-short sword, the kukri, that was fast becoming the favored all-around tool of Basic and armsmen alike.

  It could cut firewood, skin an elk or kobold and with its thick-built spine and wide blade even stand in as a shovel. Not to mention being a fairly ferocious backup weapon. And it was this form that was on display today. The two men circled, flicking the blades out in carefully controlled arcs as they sought to lop flowers free. It took skill and care. To shed blood was a sign of neither trait and shamed both.

  And on the sides, the tables and the long running benches behind them were filled and overflowing with nearly 80 men and women. A good 20 more than there was really room for.

  Only the high table, reserved by law and custom for nobility and their closest advisors, which amounted to Ranier and Blake here. Still had some room. He glanced down the highly piled table, complete with the roasted pig-like beast, its furred hide thankfully removed, half-carved and with the baked apple already removed, and eaten, from its mouth. James laughed as he raised his chalice, and the quite decent vintage it held, it was good to be the lord, to Miro’s mouth. Guile was laughing as well and gesturing passes with half a leg bone while Conner shook his head while parrying the leg bone with a stuffed flat bread.

  Leo picked somewhat awkwardly at the wreath of holy on his brow, but didn’t stop the blushing servant from refilling his chalice. Nor from other things, Ethan mused as the girl gave a small jump and a squeak without an obvious cause.

  He shook his head and shared an amused glance with a slightly less amused Ermina. Though even there, amusement twinkling in her eyes detracted from the firm lines of her mouth.

  “I think it’s about time then.” Ethan spoke over the din. “Will you call it for me Sir Andrew?”

  “Of course My Lord.” He placed a nearly bare bone back on his plate and turned to face fully forward. “QUIET!” He barked and his voice effortlessly cut through the din. Cut through and silenced it.

  But it was a warm silence. Respectful, not fearful.

  “It is a great day.” Ethan smiled and let his words ripple through the now still pool, “and not just for the feast!” He paused as a quiet murmur caught his enhanced hearing. “Nor the wine, you sots!” Laughter rang out as he, and many of those below, beamed down on the fruits of their labor. They to the food, and he to the people eating it.

  “It’s a great day because two of our own have returned to us!” He paused to let the resounding cheers ring out. And wondered if they would have been quite so loud without the two returning with wine! “And with them, enough coin to do something that has needed doing. It’s time to apportion the lands and the Livings on them.”

  The room drew quiet as many a face became more than merely cheerful, but suddenly very interested.

  “Before that, however, we need to make formal what has gradually been taking form. My Lady Ermina?”

  He smiled over, as she pulled a scroll from beside the table and stood, unrolling it slowly between her two hands, held with patrician grace and training and began to declaim the contents. “The Lord of Alfwin Pass has granted these rights and benefits. The Rights of Basic –“

  She read easily, clearly and gave what she read a gravitas that made it more than ink on parchment. She gave the use of the common lands and the rights and obligations that came to those that lived by them a nearly sacred glow that turned even the dry legal terms into something worth listening to.

  “The Rights of Commons-“ Nothing she said was new, but Ethan still found himself listening closely.

  “The Rights of Armiger-” But as much as what she said mattered, how those listening with him took it was equally important. And his eyes darted across the surrounding crowds to take every bit of it in. Reading the faces that made up most of the rising members of the baronetcy. The high-tier Armsmen took his attention at first, somewhat underrepresented due to space limitations, but with the chain of command being what it was, and gossip being even more so, they would likely learn of it faster than their less martial counterparts.

  But his eyes soon moved on. Frankly, they were a known entity and their expressions matched his expectations. The craftsman and proto-village leaders were a different story. Those he had much less experience with and likewise less confidence in how they would react. For that he had to lean on Ermina, and she had more than stood up to the weight.

  “That is all.” Ermina offered at last, taking her seat while Ethan stood to take her place.

  “Decurion Hamish son of Tolero, for your family's three generations of service to the Band and your own deeds of valor, I grant you the Lifetime Living of the Noded Southern Wood. With it, the responsibility to maintain it and to provide one part in five to the Stone as tax, to provide two parts as required to meet the rights of Basics. To train and equip no less than 10 men, to Sir Conner’s standards,” There was a sharp intake of breath at that, and Ethan imagined a tightening of the man’s eyes, “-to be called upon for no less than 1 week a year with no compensation in peace time, and as much as needed in war.”

  “I am honored My Lord, I will not fail your trust!”

  “Principus Decurion Colin son of Aldric, two generations and your Valor at Listera, I grant you the Lifetime Living of 2 acres of Noded Alpine Pasturage-“

  “Lancer Centurion Sigismund, son of Godwin, 3 generations and battle honors that I don’t have time to give full honor to-“ Shouts of approval rang out at that sally while the man himself stood, fist against his chest with the widest smile on his face “-6 acres of Prime Noded Farms-“ And as fertile as they were turning out to be it was a resource that he had no intention of letting out of his immediate circle.

  “Lancer Marcus, son of Avery, first generation but for your bravery at the battle of Listera, 5 acres of valley farmland, starting at the southern mouth of Alfwin Valley and expanding outward. The fief will help you break the virgin ground this year. You will pay two parts in ten of the produce and no less than 10 men, trained and equipped -”

  “Principes Betram- two generations and your Valor in the Battle of the Wolves, the Southern Iron Mines. Its production must be sold to the Stone –“

  He marched through a great number of livings, some considerably more valuable than others, but so too were the services rendered by those who gained them. And unfortunately, the services required to gain a Living, were not the experiences required to hold it. He would do his best, but not all would keep their livings. Not to mention a lifetime and passing it down, but perhaps not even a year.

  “Now, that is about half of the better, now for the bitter. Those as are still Armsmen,” Which was most, “Are still needed as such. You have families, you have friends, and you will need to lean on them. Because every living requires a household. And while you are heads of such, a head without a body is not long for this world.”

  Snorts rang out along with a soft, uncertain curtain of laughter. Ethan nodded. “Each of you, to keep the living, must raise your households to My Ladies standards. Decurion Hamish, are you a Timberman?”

  “Ah? No Milord.” The Principes offered with no little confusion.

  “And do you know how to maintain a wood?”

  He grimaced, pride fighting with sense for a moment, before he lowered his head. “No Milord. I don’t.”

  Ethan nodded. “We have Timberman working the forest nodes already. You might be able to hire one, or-“ Ethan drew the word out. “-you have a daughter nearing marriageable age do you not?”

  “Ah? Of course, Yrtile Milord.”

  “A man who works for rent, is rarely as diligent as one who works for himself, or his blood. But that will be on you.” He looked out over the twenty names he’d called. “On all of you.”

  “And that brings us to a different, but linked matter. The valley bottoms are well watered, and farmable. An Iron mine is equally an obvious living. But the mountains themselves have given us no small wealth. They just charge for it with no small danger.” He raised his hands and unrolled a second scroll, bearing the map of the surrounding mountains. Its spaces lined and separated into three dozen ranges set in two expanding irregular rings. “Each of these areas is an available Living. Hunting, herbs, minerals, forage and whatever you can find in them. Sa-Sir Miro has estimated their yearly income to be 30-60 golds.”

  A murmur of excitement ran through the hall before Ethan raised a hand in warning. “Income, not profit. It will cost half of that or better in upkeep, feeding, clothing and equipping your household. Two parts in ten are mine as tax. And the most of the rest will go to paying for the Living. Ten years of profits. Two tenths a year for ten years. 60 golds on the bottom end and 120 on the high.”

  He could hear a pin drop in the room. It was a massive sum of money. And no mistake.

  “I have a list of names, Alpine Hunters for the most part, that have impressed me. But it is just an impression. If you want to grasp this treasure, then you will have to prove to me that you have the skills, the connections and the leadership to hold it. Collect a household. No less than ten hunters to contain and kill the monsters and dangerous beasts, common classes to do any skilled work and basics for the rest. You will need to raise equipment, tools and provisions. It will not be cheap. But prove to me you can do this, and we will see what help can be offered.”

  “Milord. May I speak?” The voice and its speaker were in the first ring before him. One of the Principes.

  “Speak principes Nalice.”

  “Are these livings open only to hunters?”

  Ethan sighed, he did not wish to do this, every fighting man was precious, especially those experienced enough to be tempted by something like this. He really didn’t want to spread them out in copper packets. But… But he could not do otherwise. To deny them would be to deny his men a benefit in favor of strangers. To deny his best a chance at advancement and ownership. He could not do that. “No Principes Nalice, they are open to those with the strength to defend them. But they are not Valley Livings. I will not accept absent ownership. If you wish to reach for this, you will have to leave the ranks of my Armsmen.”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  A mutter of surprise rang through the room. “Don’t rush ahead blindly, Principes. You will be given the aid your service and valor have earned you. Even so, it is no easy task to gather and command a stable and cohesive household. Do not look to your right or left and think it will be. There will be no decade of comrades, friends and linesman jaunting off to live like kings in a hunting lodge.”

  “It will take work. A mortal lot of it. A leadership. Clear and sharp chains of command. A hard thing to take from equals. From former comrades.”

  He paused glancing out. “For all that, if you can make it work, you will offer security to our lowlands, and make a decent amount of coin in the doing.”

  “Thank you for the opportunity My Lord!” He saluted. Ethan waved it away. It really was the least he could do. Much as he wished it otherwise.

  “Think on it, and spread it widely through the fief.”

  “Now, on to another bit of good news. Give your attention, and your thanks, to Adventurer Gareth the Teller of Tall Tales. He and his, have brought us a treasure.” He removed the class stone from its leather purse and held it up. “The Forager class. A blessing and a valuable addition to our Fief!”

  Wild cheers rang through the room. Every additional class was a chance. For themselves, for their children and if they managed to snag a mountain Living, for considerably more than that.

  “I accept it now before you, and repeat the promise I made to him two weeks ago, and that I make to you as well. Those who bring us treasures will not suffer for it!”

  He proclaimed it confidently and with the passion he truly felt. Only by rewarding men for their deeds, could you inspire them to do those deeds. “In exchange for the stone, the Fief will build a core recognized Adventurers Hall off of the northern meadow.”

  It was a dangerous grant in someways. The Adventurer’s guild headquarters were in the Capital, and its true headmaster was appointed by the Emperor, may his light ever shine on them. And while distant waters would not quench one’s thirst, it remained a class and occupation that was only nominally under the control of the local nobles. And it was a building, by the Emperor’s grace, that could offer classes. Even tier 2 classes, with sufficient merit. Merit that would take a small lake of blood between monsters, beasts, bandits and closing the occasional rifts.

  But for all its demerits, it was a stabilizing force for many fiefs. Armsmen could and would be called to campaign. Even basics could be raised as levies. But adventurers would remain behind to clear those rifts. To kill the monsters that leaked from them and to keep hard won ground if not civilized, then at least fit for human occupancy.

  “-With 10 acres of mountains for forage and support. I grant the guild officers the right to medium justice, and the rights of low justice over their own. I retain the right of refusal on such officers pursuant to the Imperial Charter-”

  A document of not inconsiderable length that he’d had to spend far more hours than he’d like making himself familiar with.

  “-and will expect the standard two parts in ten taxes.” To be collected on goods sold to and through the Adventurer’s guild. “A warning to you and to yours. The winters up here are not kind and wintering rights in the Stone, the fortress beneath you, is available. At a price. Are you satisfied?”

  “Yes Milord! Very Satisfied! Thank you your Lordship!” The man practically yelled. His eyes glowing.

  “Then I am pleased.”

  Yes.

  Was

  To:

  It was a small change entirely in line with standard class rules. More specific for a higher percentage.

  Not a hard choice.

  They were already all in on the mountains.

  Yes.

  ___

  “My Lord, Ethan.”

  The pause between the two was barely there, a good thing as it was half way to being presumptuous. Not that he would apply those punishments here unless he had no other choice. That little pause turned a title into something half way intimate and the sultry voice that spoke it yet retained a hold on his heart. An ever more inappropriate hold, perhaps, but not one he was willing to simply forsake. With a half-hidden sigh he removed the towel from his still damp hair and turned.

  Beauty stood before him in two distinctly different forms. A curvy read head and a petite olive-skinned dancer. Two forms, but both rather dear to him.

  “Greta, Anarita. I hope you have been well.”

  “We have My Lord.”

  “And yet you haven’t taken me up on my offer? You both remain unwed.” He had been keeping an eye on them. Made a point of it really.

  “None measured up to our standards, My Lord.” Anarita offered, large black pupiled eyes peering up at him through a curtain of midnight hair.

  It did his ego good to hear it. But his common sense knew better. This way lay danger.

  He hid another sigh. “Come. Let’s talk somewhere a little less public.” He waved a hand at the main thoroughfare around them, the bathhouses entrance not 2 dozen feet behind him and no less than a two dozen men walking considerably slower than usual as they pretended not to notice the show in the offing. He gave one of the more obviously slow men a mock glare. “Get on with you Parin.”

  “Of course Milord.” The man offered, moving into a comically overdramatic jog to general laughter. Ethan gave him, and the rest of the hallway a jaunty wave then ushered the two ladies onward, ducking out of the main hall and into a nearby storeroom for a chat that had him stuck between anticipation and dread.

  ___

  “You gave them what?” Ermina’s voice was dangerously calm.

  “The planned Taberni. With the available wine and need of good entertainment, we had planned to build one. And between the two with dancing, music, singing and general ability to manage social situations, they should do quite well.”

  “Ethan! I’m not asking how well they might or might not do! I want to know why you gave a valuable living, one that could be used to cement a loyalty or raise much needed coin, to your former lovers!”

  He took a deep breath, and forced his tone to stay calm and level, despite his back suddenly feeling over stiff. “Because they are my former lovers My Lady. I cut them off before I married you.”

  She glared at him, cupping her heavily pregnant abdomen as she huffed. “And with me getting ever larger and less attractive, are you looking to bring in some mistresses?”

  He sighed. “Ermina, you are glowing with light, and growing with my child. You are no less attractive for it.”

  She snorted. Loudly. “Don’t try to pull the wool on me! I have eyes! And enough metal to see my reflection. Evan without the baby I can’t hold a candle to either of those two.”

  There was bitterness in her voice. But it was a resigned bitterness. And while it was unfortunately true that she had not the radiant beauty of his former mistresses, she also did herself to little credit. She was far from ugly.

  “I have no such plans Ermina. But there was love between me and them. And years of loyalty. I cannot, will not, simply throw them away. I put them aside for you, and for the future of my people. It was both right and necessary. But that doesn’t mean I don’t owe them something better than they received!”

  She glared at him, fists balled up and white knuckled. “You are determined in this then?”

  “I will see them well set up.” He affirmed. “But if you have a better option, or one you prefer then say it.”

  She stared at him for a moment, then turned away abruptly. “If you want to give them a Taberni, why not the one in Promise?” If it came out a bit waspish, he didn’t hold it against her. And likewise, he gave her suggestion some real thought. Perhaps more than she had initially intended. Still… He wasn’t sure it would work.

  “Our parting was not the gentlest, Ermina. And while I would like to see them happy and healthy, I’m not ignorant of what damage spite could cause. They were with me a long time, and heard a great deal. I am somewhat uncomfortable with them being in the constant company of foreigners.”

  She stared at him for a moment. Then leaned back and let out a tired guffaw. “I’m worried about you ignoring me for them and your worried about treason?”

  “Worried? That might be too strong. I don’t expect it or I’d have dealt with the problem. But I do have to keep it in mind.” Though he really wished he didn’t.

  She waved a hand easily. “Maybe. But then again maybe not. What do they really know now? It’s been nearly a year since they served at your council table. Most of what they know is about your mercenary days-“

  Ethan winced slightly at the term, but didn’t correct her. It was accurate, even if it wasn’t the one most Bandsman preferred.

  “-and that information is largely outdated. The core is assuredly an issue, but one that is not more or less dangerous from them then from every other person sent to promise. And for all that, I’m not worried. We only need to keep them guessing for a few more months, then winter will keep them honest.”

  “I’ll give you that. But don’t discount let a pretty face-“ He held in a wince at the poor choice in words, but carried on “-hide the wits that lie beneath it. Anarita in particular is very good at listening. And more, understands far more than you would expect from what is said. She has traced out who looks to who and where the fault lines lie in a baronial house, in the process of a single night’s revels. And we used that knowledge to get a much better contract than expected the next morn.”

  She started. Turning to look at him again. “I had not heard about that.”

  Ehtan shrugged. “I doubt anyone wants to discuss my former mistresses with my wife.”

  She waved the idea away. “I hardly expected, or expect for that matter, you to be a priest My Lord. Just so long as you don’t go praying for the Lady of Love to unlock the lasses womb. I’ve seen bastards cause the fall of a barony before this.”

  He raised an eyebrow, it wasn’t an issue he’d had to pay much attention to before this. Bandsman leadership was a matter of ability more than just birth. But his grandfather had told them tails of such. Many a battle was fought over inheritance rights and many a contract was let for the same. Still, he’d have to consider it later.

  “-An intelligence asset, then Promise really would be a good place for her. Especially if she can work with Sir James.”

  He considered her for a moment, then shrugged. “She has before this, and to considerable effect. But using her to gain such is all well and good, but doesn’t answer the danger of what she already knows.”

  Ermina smiled at him sadly. “I’ll speak with them both-“ He forced his face to stillness, and his tongue too. Though both desired to protest. “-It’s very true that love lost might lead to bitterness and resentment. But I doubt they would have brought themselves to ask you for this living if it were that bad. And giving them what they asked for, along with a way to contribute to the band and the trust such contributions imply should go a long way to mitigating what is there. Even if you are unsure if they deserve such, offering trust can solidify shaking loyalty. Withholding it can shatter what loyalty remains.”

  “And it gets them out of the Stone?” Ethan asked, and his tone came out a bit drier than he intended.

  “I won’t cry if a single rock can bring down multiple birds.” She returned, with a small smile that had him thinking of cats and bowls of cream. He moved over to a small table beside the wall and sat down in a waiting chair. Letting his eyes dance briefly over their quarters.

  The mirror shined basalt walls and gently arched ceilings reflected the soft blue core light throughout the sparsely, but elegantly decorated room. A few simple tapestries, riverland images from Ermina’s dowry, decorated the walls while the large, low bed covered in plush wool blankets was hidden behind to hanging curtains. Two dozen potted ferns and low light flowers gave some life and pleasant scent to the enclosed space. Taking if from polished cave to almost a solar.

  It was a comfortable room. A home, where he’d seldom had one that lasted more than a few months at a time. His eyes returned to Ermina and her advanced pregnancy. She was the reason it had so quickly became a home. Not just decorations, but organization, planning and even the small games she played with invitations to the great hall.

  Creating a culture, loyalty and maintaining the rules and newly created customs that came with it without ever letting the iron fist inside those soft gloves become overly apparent.

  Her request wasn’t unreasonable. Her logic wasn’t faulty either. And yet he didn’t want to agree. And that made him take a second look at his motivations. He realized he didn’t really want to send them away. He didn’t want to deny himself the chance to see them, even in passing as he moved about the Keep.

  And that wasn’t fair. Not to them, not to Ermina and not even to himself. Would he listen to his common sense or his lower head?

  He snorted softly. “Promise it is.”

  An opportunity, with far higher traffic then the stone. For now at least. But if he was any judge of human behavior, it wasn’t all roses. Promise was about to become a battlefield.

  And soon.

  ___