Braydon wished he had brought a horse. Nela, also, wished she had brought a horse. They were happy that they had achieved what they had set out to achieve. In fact they had gained even more than they would have hoped, their prospector was also a blacksmith. The problem was that he had hit it off with Gerald as drinking buddies. And now Gerald was riding alongside the carriage they were in to chat with him. Very loudly. For hours.
Even Nela’s diplomatic smile was wearing thin, the only person with no visible difference was Mireille. She had been passively observing the whole debacle with her unchanging deadpan face that had made her somewhat of a legend amongst Cliforge’s garrison. Though the servants loved her, something to do with Mea, no doubt. The only respite they got from the two men was when stopping by in the villages in Baron Walker’s domain, Grolosar. The ‘stroll and conversation’ also becoming actual stroll and conversation, just to get a longer break.
“We are about to return to Cliforge, Sire.” The carriage driver announced, bringing great relief to Braydon and Nela. As soon as they were inside the walls, they got down from the carriage with half a mind to run away. But Nela’s noble etiquette, and a sharp elbow to the side for Braydon, kept them from doing so.
“Welcome to Cliforge Castle, Master Aran. I hope you enjoy your time here.” Braydon officially welcomed his guest, whose lackadaisical attitude from earlier was nowhere to be seen. He had turned into the image of an austere scholar as he accepted the welcome. Braydon almost had a chance to sigh in relief before the austere scholar changed back into the man they had seen during the journey. Which got a different kind of sight from Nela, who had apparently met her bane.
“Gerald, show Master Aran his room. Once you are done you are dismissed for the night.”
“Sire.” As the two men were walking off, Braydon thought of something and shouted to Gerald.
“Any alcohol drunk comes out of your pocket, Gerald!” Upon hearing Braydon’s shout he almost tripped over his own feet, getting a giggle out of Nela.
“At last. Those two on their own are alright but put them together and they are unbearable.” Braydon’s complaint got a nod of agreement from Nela.
“Remind me not to join you when you go out prospecting.” Nela’s comment made his face drain of colour.
“I’m not going. Gerald is a good enough bodyguard, if he needs the company he can bring his squire.” To that they both looked sympathetically at the squire, who was currently removing the saddle from Gerald’s horse in the distance.
“Annoying man.”
They both stopped. They looked at each other for confirmation. Whilst Mireille did speak, it had always been when spoken to. This was the first time she had actually expressed something of her own volition. They both let out a laugh. She had such a straight face that they had thought she didn’t care about the antics going on around her.
“I cannot say I disagree with you.” Nela giggled as she responded. Braydon was not so free as to openly state his opinion. He was the lord of this land in the end and if he annoyed Master Aran so much that he left he would have nowhere to go cry.
Whilst they had been out on their journey, Rhydian had gone to the villages to recruit new garrison members. As they had suspected there had not been enough people to fill it completely but 13 was a good start. They would need another 10 to regain the numbers before the war. Rhydian brought them with him a couple hours after Braydon’s group had returned. Hopefully there would be some men they could recruit among the people that would come to Cliforge from the Barons’ land.
When they had been to the villages under Abel and Walker, the people had looked very thin, a testament to the crop burning that the men had done to each other. They were almost certain that the people would try to come. Of course packing up and moving, even for rather poor peasants would take more than a day or two. Though one thing that struck Braydon was that even if the two were barons their lands had ⅔ of his pre-bandit population each. This impressed upon him quite how much of a backwater Cliforge Viscounty was. Two infighting barons could have a greater number of subjects than a neighbouring viscounty.
“Steven, do we know when the workers Monrow agreed to are due to arrive?” Braydon was in his study, ‘looking over documents’. More colloquially known as twiddling his thumbs.
“They should be here in the next two days. Moving a large amount of people, especially those not drilled like an army takes a long time. Plus they are all on foot.” He knew that but he was impatient for things to feel like they were improving. It seems like he would have to wait another few days yet.
“Gerald and Master Aran have said that they will head out to prospect the mountains tomorrow after lunch.” ‘Thank goodness, I could not deal with two days of them in a row.’ Braydon realised he was getting nothing done so got up to go down to the bailey.
“Go find Rhydian, tell him I want to train.” When Braydon said this, Steven looked at him like he was mad. Rhydian was a good drill master when he was dealing with groups, but one on one? He was the trainer from hell.
By the time he was in his training clothes and down in the bailey there was a crowd gathering. Gerald would not miss Braydon getting his arse handed to him by Rhydian for the world, even if he had a new drinking buddy. In fact he had brought Aran along. Nela and Mireille had come to see the commotion with Mea in tow.
The garrison was made up of the older members who were wondering why the lord wanted to do this to himself. There had been one or two of them who had tried one on one training, and they had collectively decided never again. The new recruits were curious to see how good their new lord was and how harsh their future drilling master would be. They had heard stories of Rhydian from the older members but didn’t quite believe it.
“That’s quite the crowd you’ve gathered for me Gerald!” Braydon shouted across the bailey to Gerald. Only Gerald, in this castle, was so excited to see this happen and he could guarantee it was this man who had spread news of his training around. He could even see servants poking their heads out of the window.
‘This is either going to put the fear of god into the recruits for when they face Rhydian or my prestige is going down the drain.’
“Are you ready, my lord?” ‘Sadistic bastard.’ when Rhydian asked that Braydon was sure he saw the man smile. He knew Rhydian was going to enjoy this as much as Gerald enjoyed watching it happen.
