From Londoner To Lord

Chapter 379 - 373. The Encampment - II

Feroy gave her a small, easy smile, which did nearly nothing to soften the woman's expression. "We're from Tiranat, and we came to invite you to come back with us. In our village, you all will get—"

"I knew it!" she cut in sharply. "Tiranat is where our men went! And you killed all of them! You want to do the same with us!"

An older man scowled at them. "Your baron sent you, didn't he? Wants slaves for free, that bastard!"

"He doesn't want slaves!" Tesyb burst out, unable to hold back. "Lord Kivamus doesn't even keep slaves! He's not like the other nobles!"

"Hah," one of the older women snorted. "Just another devil with another name. They all talk pretty, until you're chained up in their cellars. You killed the rest of us!"

Tesyb was about to snap back, but Feroy lifted a hand to stop him.

"Those men attacked our village," Feroy said, his tone steady. "Some of them died, yes, but we were only defending our homes. You can't blame us for that. But most of your people are still alive—everyone who surrendered." He jerked his head toward the man they had brought. "Ask him."

The brown-haired woman fixed her eyes on him. "Speak! Where are the rest of the men? We've been waiting for you all to return for weeks!"

The man started to talk, the words spilling out in a rush. Tesyb watched the woman's face while he spoke. Something about her made him think of Hyola—the same hard edge, the same way her jaw set when she was angry. For a moment he even wondered if they might be distant cousins, before remembering that Hyola had bright red hair, not brown like this woman.

The man told them how they had tried to raid Tiranat, expecting an easy target, and how every bit of their information had been wrong. He explained how they had been overwhelmed by the village's defense and how the raid had ended before they could even enter the village. He told them that nearly half a dozen of their number had been killed, but the others had been taken alive and locked up at first, then given food and some kind of magical medicine that healed their wounds. He described how those men had slowly been allowed out of the prison after being questioned, and how they had been working as laborers for the past few weeks.

The woman looked from him to the guards and back again. "So they're really not bandits?" she asked in a low voice. "They aren't here to take us back to the farms near Krukzil and get the bounties?"

The man shook his head. "No, Widel, they aren't. I came here to take you all to Tiranat. It's a good place to live, better than you can ever imagine. We can all live there like normal people, the kind of life we never had on the farms."

"Then why didn't you come earlier?" Widel shot back. "Or were you enjoying your life there so much you forgot about the rest of us?"

"Of course not!" he said quickly. "We wanted to come back right away, but there was a bigger raid on the village immediately after that. The baron stopped anyone from leaving, in case they helped the bandits. We wanted to come after that, but how were we supposed to escort children and old people through these forests with just those of us who remained?"

He gestured around at the trees. "Nobody could find this camp unless someone led them here—not even bandits. Now that it's spring, I knew you all could survive a few more weeks on your own, just like we had for the past few months. But if we had come without enough protection, some real bandit group could easily have ambushed us on that road and made us their slaves, making worthless all the pain and hardship we had gone through to escape. So we had to wait for the baron to give us guards, since he had already promised to help us out." He jerked his thumb at Feroy. "That's why these guards are here. There are a dozen more waiting on the road. Trust me, they'll keep us safe from anything."

Widel's expression had changed from pure anger to something more uncertain. Her hand with the knife had also lowered during the argument. "You're not lying about the village, are you? I'll never forgive you if you are…"

"Just trust me this time," he said. "You can see it for yourself in a few days."

Widel looked at Feroy and the wagon drivers. "You all don't have that savage look of bandits, any of you. I can accept you're guards from that village and not bounty hunters. But why do you even want us there? If you aren't lying about not making us slaves again, then why? No place has enough food these days. Why would you want more mouths to feed?"

Feroy grinned. "You'll find out more when you get there, but we want as many mouths to feed as we can. Tiranat needs workers for its industries."

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"Tiranat…" one of the older men muttered. "It's just a small coal mining village, isn't it?"

Feroy nodded. "That's what we mainly do, among other things. You can work there as coal miners, but there are other labor jobs too."

The old man frowned. "Does it look like I can swing a pickaxe? We ran away because most of us couldn't do the hard work they wanted on the farms near Krukzil. That meant we barely got any food—just more whips when we couldn't keep up. Our families came with us when we escaped, but you've already killed nearly half of our young men, and the rest of us can't do that kind of labor. We barely get enough to eat here, and there's always the risk of some wild beast coming in the night, but at least nobody whips us."

"You will be treated well in Tiranat," Feroy said. "Ask your man later about how he and the others are treated there. About working—you don't have to mine coal or till fields if you can't. As long as you do what you're able to, that's enough. And even then, Tiranat has a welfare system for those who can't work at all. We already have a few disabled people there who still get shelter and regular meals even though they can't work. The baron makes sure nobody goes hungry in our village at his own expense."

"You're lying!" someone snapped. "That's not possible!"

"I'm not buying it either!" Widel agreed.

"Yeah, I was almost going to believe you all," an older woman said, "but you ruined your sales yourself. There's no way a baron spends his own gold to feed invalids!"

The man who had come with them shook his head. "That's what I thought too, the first time I heard it. But it's true. I've met one of those people, and they get the same two meals a day as the other villagers. I even heard rumors that it might even become three meals a day in the coming days."

"But how…?" an older woman with a limp asked. "Why would anyone do that? Who could even afford that? For people like me who can't even work!"

"Well," Feroy said, "it's not like they sit around doing nothing. Like I said, everyone helps where they can. Those who can't move much can still help out by cutting vegetables and doing other cooking work, which doesn't need them to walk around. Some of the older ones or people who've lost limbs help by watching over the small children while the adults are out working. That is still an important task. What I mean to say is that you don't have to dig coal or shovel dirt to earn food. Those who can do that, or those who have skills like carpentry or smithing, are obviously more valuable and will be paid good wages, but the rest of you still won't go hungry and will always have a roof over your head."

The camp people didn't look particularly convinced by those claims, so Feroy gestured to the wagon drivers carrying the food satchels. They moved a few steps ahead, but the refugees flinched back in fear.

"We're not going to hurt you," Feroy said with a disarming smile. "These men have brought food for you. Some of it is bread that's only a few days old—fresh enough that it still retains the taste. We also brought vegetables, and half a sack of ground wheat you can cook as porridge, plus some smoked meat. The smaller satchel has some salt." He pointed at the clay pots still steaming by the fire. "I can see that those pots barely have anything in them. Add some vegetables to one of those pots, and you can boil some wheat in another one. It'll be ready within an hour if you add more firewood."

"That's… that's for us?" a frail woman asked. "Really?"

The children stared hungrily at the satchels and the half sack of grain the drivers had set down in front of them. Widel glanced at the food as well, before she glared at the drivers. "What do you want us to do in return? I won't sleep with you! Neither will any other woman."

Feroy let out a slow breath. "It's just a gift, to show we mean well. Whether you all come with us or not, you can still keep it. Our baron is generous. We even brought some medicine—something to heal anyone who's sick or injured, but that's for after you've eaten." He pointed at the satchels. "Now go on. You all look hungry."

The children were the first to move. A couple of them ran to the satchels at once, and some of the adults followed, opening them one by one. A boy let out a shout. "It really has bread!" He tore off a big chunk and took a bite before another kid snatched it from his hand and bit into it as well.

An older woman hurried over, scolding them and pushing them back. Some of the adults took over opening the rest of the packs and began to divide the ready-to-eat food properly. The satchel with the boar jerky emptied first. Most of the adults chewed on the tough meat, while the softer bread was passed into the small hands of the children.

One toddler stared at the bread in his fingers as he munched. "Ma, will we get to eat this bread thing again?" he asked. "Never had it before. But I like it!"

His mother's face crumpled. She pulled him into a hug and started sobbing as she passed her own share of bread to him.

The older woman who had taken charge was already giving new orders. Some of the ground wheat went straight into a pot that was already boiling over the campfire, while she told others to carefully put the vegetables aside for later.

Tesyb watched all of them with his heart aching. It was not hard to imagine what their days in the forest had been like—always short on food, always waiting for something to go wrong, and nobody coming to help. Just how difficult would it have been for all of them living in this forest? Widel seemed to be putting up a brave front, but he had heard from Calubo and Hyola what it was like living as a slave. Widel's life would have been just as difficult, if not worse, living near that bastard Zoricus' own village.