The Vampire & Her Witch

Chapter 1080: Soup And Socks

"Loman, I want you to look at this as an opportunity to address some of the ills that have plagued Lothian March for many years," Ashlynn said, hoping that she could entice him into dreaming of a better future. "One of the last times you spoke, you complained about how expensive wool was in a march that produces almost a quarter of the Kingdom’s wool. You said it was because your family had to sell most of the wool outside the march in order to keep from sending tithes of cattle, swine, and grain."

"Socks or soup," Loman said, pursing his lips in thought as he remembered their conversation. It felt so long ago, and so different from the one they were having now, that it might as well have been a dream or a fairy tale, but he remembered the point he’d been making well enough.

The crown took four parts in twenty of the tithe the Lothian Marquis received, and if he was too lenient with his barons, the tax assessor would increase it to five or even six parts in twenty in order to ensure that the king received the tribute he expected his marches to provide. It was yet another reason why the Lothians had worked so hard over the years to grow the march into a proper duchy. A duke’s tithe to the crown was only two parts in twenty, half of what a marquis was expected to tithe each year.

"We need the herds and the grain to keep the people of the march from starving," Loman continued. "But if we want to hold back on our tithes of livestock and grain, we have to make up for it with silver and gold, and the most profitable exports have been wool, cider, and the trophies taken in battle with de-, er, with the Eldritch," he said awkwardly. "Winters wouldn’t be so hard on the common person if they had a few extra pairs of good, fresh socks, or a better blanket at night, but they’d be even harder if they had empty bellies."

"When we last spoke," Ashlynn said as she began carefully removing pots and pans from the hearth, setting them on a simple, utilitarian table where she had a set of wooden plates and bowls waiting for her to assemble the first meal she would share with Loman Lothian since the night of her wedding.

"You were advocating for the Temple in Lothian City to buy more of the wool that went to market, at the prices it would sell for in Keating and beyond," Ashlynn said as she recalled the details of Loman’s plan. "You said that the sisters in the temple were willing to knit socks for the poor if the Church would agree to buy the wool. Did it work? Were you able to provide socks for the people who needed them?"

"No," Loman said with a defeated sigh. "We bought the wool, but half of it went to the Templars for new cloaks, saddle blankets, and necessities for the coming war. Another portion was held in reserve for the Church’s own needs," he said. "In the end, we only made two hundred pairs of socks instead of a thousand, and we only gave them to fifty families," he said bitterly.

It wasn’t just that they’d provided less aid than he set out to that upset the young priest. Fifty families were fifty families more than they would have helped otherwise, and that should be a good thing.

The problem was that the socks hadn’t gone to the people who were the most destitute. The battered, broken men who had been consumed by the bottle in an endless attempt to drown out the pains and horrors of the last war, or the women and children those broken men left behind, the ones who had no homes and spent every snip of tin as soon as it touched their dirt-stained hands... They weren’t the ones who received the Church’s charity.

Instead, the Church diverted Loman’s act of compassion toward the most pious among the poor who worshiped regularly at the Temple. Families who would still give one snip in five to the Church even though their roof leaked and their bellies grumbled, were selected as the recipients of the Church’s ’charity.’

For years, Loman had protested that people who were facing such a difficult struggle shouldn’t be allowed to present offerings to the Church, that it should be the other way around with the Church helping them to meet their struggle, but he’d been even less successful at changing that than he’d been at providing socks to people who slept under bridges and begged for scraps of food at the markets.

"I know that change is hard," Ashlynn said as she began setting dishes on the table between her seat and Loman’s. "I’m working hard to make changes in the Vale as well, and it isn’t easy. But Loman," she said gently. "I believe that we can build a kingdom that cares for its people better than the Kingdom of Gaal has, especially out here, where the Eldritch and Human worlds can blend together."

"Socks and soup, not socks or soup," Ashlynn said with a gentle smile. "If you were setting the terms for peace between the people of the Vale and the people of the march, it wouldn’t be a bad demand to make," she said, touching briefly on the earlier topic of conversation. "You don’t need to think of things now, but I hope that you can spend your next few days as my guest learning about what the Eldritch people have to offer."

"I’ll think about it," Loman agreed, nodding as he realized that the kind, compassionate woman he’d met months ago hadn’t been consumed by the ruthless witch who had unleashed her armies on Lothian March.

There was a steel in her that hadn’t been there before, and she was more willing to resort to violence and forceful methods than he’d ever imagined she would be. But underneath that, she was the same Ashlynn Blackwell she’d always been, and she was still thinking about ways to help the march thrive.

"Good," Ashlynn said with a bright smile. "I think that’s enough serious talk for now, don’t you? We have plenty of time to work out how we’ll bring our people together in the days to come. For now, why don’t we just talk like family who have been apart for too long? I can tell you about my travels if you’d like," she suggested as a mischievous twinkle appeared in her emerald eyes.

"Or," Ashlynn suggested with a bright smile on her lips. "I hear rumors that your father has been trying to play matchmaker for you," she suggested. "Is there a young lady who’s captured your heart?"