From Londoner To Lord

Chapter 345 340. Mercenaries - I

"The ruling council of the Girnalican Oligarchy," Duvas began, "sits in their capital, Rutodan, down by the southern coast of Cilaria. All they care about is trade and profit. Their fertile lands produce far more than they need, so they sell the surplus to the merchant fleets in their ports, mainly in Rutodan itself. Apart from grain, they also sell a lot of timber, glass, wine, salt, cloth, ale, precious gems and even slaves. It makes them rich—but it also means they put gold above everything else."

Kivamus nodded slightly. "So Girnalica makes a lot of gold from selling grain and other things." He frowned. "Wait, if they produce more grain than they need, why haven't we ever tried to buy it from them? In fact, the whole region of southern Reslinor could benefit from buying it from Girnalica!"

"Because of the same reason I am explaining today," Duvas said. "There are simply no trade routes between us. Apart from the long and very expensive sea route, there are only three ways for anyone to get from Reslinor to Girnalica. The western path, circling around the Nisador range near Kirnos is out, since those dangerous wastelands don't allow any kind of bulk trade. The eastern path, passing through the Tolasi Hills is also not an option, since it is heavily militarized, and the border forts of the three countries don't allow any civilian or merchant movement through those hills to the other countries. I remember that in the past, there used to be a lot of trade through those hills, but since the previous war two decades ago, all merchant movement and any trading between the three countries through the Tolasi hills had stopped completely."

The majordomo shrugged. "That only leaves going through the dense southern forests of Cilaria while passing between the two mountain ranges south of us, but that is also very dangerous - all kinds of wild beasts, including roaming packs of fiercely territorial adzees, as well as the huge flying monsters known as bakkores live between those mountains. When you include the mercenaries living there, no merchant ever wants to go through those forests. They value gold, but not more than their lives."

Kivamus sighed, realizing that before the previous war, this region of Cilaria might have been prospering with all the trade passing through those hills. It would also have ensured no food shortage like the one southern Reslinor was dealing with in recent years, since a country's shortfall in grain harvest was usually accompanied by a surplus in another country, and people could simply trade for it. But that was not an option anymore. He looked at the majordomo. "Okay, I understand that there are many mercenaries living there, but I still don't see how it affects us."

Duvas shook his head. "You see, both Reslinor and Binpaaz always keep a certain number of standing forces—knights, squires, and trained soldiers, just in case a war breaks out, or another country invades them. Ours are at Fort Aragosa, theirs at Fort Tusgarr. You can guess that keeping that many people fed and equipped costs a fortune - especially since they aren't doing any productive work like farming - but both countries accept that as a necessity. Girnalica, though—they see soldiers as a waste of hands outside the times of a war. They'd rather have their men farming or working as craftsmen in all kinds of trades so their rulers can earn more gold. So apart from the few knights and squires who guard their border at Fort Nertas near the Tolasi Hills, they don't keep too many armed men permanently."

He looked up at Kivamus. "When Girnalica needs fighters, in case a war seems imminent - which hasn't happened for two decades anyway - they just hire mercenaries. They've certainly got the gold for it. But as you can guess, when those mercenaries aren't needed, well… they have to live somewhere."

Feroy's mouth curved into a grim smile. "And the ruling council wouldn't want them hanging around their towns and cities."

Duvas nodded. "Exactly. So outside the times of a war, the mercenaries move into the southern forests—which is a vast, ungoverned land. Neither Reslinor nor Girnalica properly controls these forests. There are no major towns there, not even villages worth taxing. And that makes it the perfect place for brutal cutthroats like those mercenaries to disappear when they are not needed."

Kivamus folded his arms. "All right, that explains why there are mercenaries down there. But they'd stay on their own side of the border, wouldn't they, even if the border is barely defined? After all, those men belong to Girnalica. They might not have families there anymore after living for years as mercenaries, but they were still born in that country."

Feroy gave a dry laugh. "Borders mean little to men who aren't paid to respect them, milord. When a group's not under contract to the Girnalican Council, they just go where they want. I was part of such a group once, long before I came here. I remember telling you that that's where I first saw an arbalest in use. In short, they're well armed, well trained, and not the kind you want to meet in the woods."

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He leaned forward towards the map, tapping at the southern edge of their own kingdom. "Most of the groups around here are small—anywhere from five or six men to a few dozen. But I've heard rumors about one that's much larger. Over a hundred mercenaries in that group, perhaps more. And these are only the ones living close to our border, which is between the two mountain ranges. There are surely dozens of such groups scattered through those forests, which stretch all the way down to the southern coast of Cilaria."

"That's basically an army..." Kivamus frowned. "Those numbers would add up to, what, five hundred well-armed men? Maybe even a thousand?"

"More," Feroy said. "When war breaks out between the countries—and it does, every few decades—there are many thousands of men involved on each side, so there certainly have to be enough mercenaries down there to defend Girnalica. Thousands of them, probably." He shrugged. "Girnalica would probably have to call over their own farmers as a militia in case of a bigger war, just like Reslinor does, but they still need to have a certain number of well trained men to lead their army. For Reslinor, it is those knights, squires and other swordsmen, spearmen and bowmen living in Fort Aragosa which provide that leadership, but for Girnalica, it is those mercenaries who do that."

Kivamus stared down at the map, the candlelight making his silver hair glint. "Then we'd best hope no war breaks out in the near future. The raids from Binpaaz near Cinran are already creating trouble for the Count, but hopefully it won't grow into anything larger." He looked up again. "Still, these mercenary groups have been living in those forests for years, haven't they? Decades even. So what's the issue now? Is it about the large group Feroy mentioned?"

Duvas didn't answer right away, his fingers tracing a faint line through the forest inked on the map. "Yes," he said at last, "that's the group that concerns us." He looked at the map again and sighed. "While the Girnalican councilmen can keep those mercenaries under control in their own country—since they can threaten not to hire them again if they cause trouble, which keeps those groups somewhat docile in Girnalica—that doesn't work for us here in Reslinor, since we don't have that kind of leverage over them. Even if our rulers offered them gold to fight for us in case of a war, those mercenaries'll never accept. They are Girnalican people, after all."

His tone grew somber. "That particular group - the large one led by their leader Velonox, always had a bad name - including in the previous war. After the war ended, they started raiding and taking tributes from the border villages and towns on our side. They even raided the village of Kirnos a few times - which was probably the most fortified village in this region until we built our walls - and razed half their village in one such raid. Eventually their baron Farodas had no choice but to pay Velonox a tribute every year to leave the place alone." He paused, looking uneasy. "You can probably see where I'm going with this..."

Kivamus felt his stomach tighten, hoping it wouldn't turn out to be what he imagined it was. He stared at Duvas, searching his face. "Are we too...?"

"We are..." the majordomo said, voice barely above a murmur. "We have to."

Hudan stared at them. "Wait—what do you both mean?"

Duvas lowered his gaze. "I mean that the previous baron of Tiranat was forced to do the same. A few of Velonox's men came here not long after this village was founded after the war. They made it clear what would happen if no deal was made, and after seeing them bring Farodas' fortified village to its knees, we had no reason to doubt their words. So the previous baron struck a deal as well and since then, we've been paying them a tribute every summer."

For a moment, nobody said anything. Hudan's fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Feroy was looking somewhere past the table, lost in thoughts.

Kivamus spoke slowly. "You can't be serious..."

"I wish I wasn't," Duvas replied, grimacing. "But it's true. We have to pay them a fixed amount every year by the end of summer. The current sum is 400 gold." He hesitated. "And now that we've built walls, farms, and watchtowers, their scouts will surely see the changes and will think that our village is flourishing. They'll surely demand more this time."

The room went quiet. The only sound was the faint crackle of the candle wick on the table.

Kivamus stared hard at the majordomo. "You mean to tell me that after being forced to pay those ridiculous taxes to the Count—which almost left us broke—we still have to pay another 400 gold? To mercenaries?"

Duvas nodded with visible regret. "I'm afraid so."

Kivamus stood abruptly, his voice rising. "How could you hide this from me all this time?"