The man who knelt before me was not the same boy who had left this hall aboard a Rabiss ship.
His wavy black hair had been cut short, hacked down to the length that many of the Rabiss sailors had. The fine clothes he once wore were gone, replaced by a rough-spun Rabiss tunic, frayed and stained. His skin had become the same tan of any man who spent his life under the sun.
But that wasn't what struck me most.
He was no longer the nervous man that I had first met. Even though he knelt before, his back was straight. When he lifted his eyes to meet mine, they did not dart away. There was no pleading in them. This was a man of quiet conviction. He knew his worth now. Something that caused my respect, no matter his circumstances.
"Kevin of the House of Plimgus. You have been brought before me to be judged for the crimes of your family. Do you deny that your father acted against the crown by allowing raiders to capture people he swore to protect?"
"No," he said flatly.
There was no hesitation in his voice. As if he had already decided the outcome did not matter.
"Did you know of this plan?"
"Yes."
A few breaths caught among those watching.
My voice hardened. "Were you involved?"
"No, I stood by and did nothing about it." He did not look away as he spoke.
The tone of his voice was one of accusation. Condemning his own weakness.
"Do you know the punishment for treason in the kingdom of Falmoren?"
For the first time, he hesitated.
"Death."
"Do you have any defense for your actions?" I asked.
"No," he said calmly.
"Is there any cause that I should have for sparing your life?"
"Yes."
I raised my eyebrows, but I did not interrupt him. But I let the silence stretch long enough for him to understand that this was his last chance to speak.
"Though I was a coward, I have no loyalty to the enemies of the crown. My brother was willing to sell me. My father’s patrons wrote me off as a loss." His face became tight with emotion, but his voice remained steady. "I owe you a debt for saving my life and for allowing me to see my sister one last time."
He drew a slow breath.
"Strip me of my title and put me to the oar, or send me to the fields. I will work until that debt is paid."
He finished speaking and went still again, waiting for judgment.
"What if I told you I spared your life only to pacify your sister, to buy her loyalty, and to extract evidence against your family?"
"Then I would say you are wise."
"What if I told you I spared you so I could place you on the board as a piece, nothing more than a tool to be turned against my enemies?"
"Then I would still consider you wise."
"I paid for your return so I might use you as a puppet. Someone to sit in a seat you no longer deserved. To rule in name only. To obey under threat of death."
This time, there was no reply. He accepted my judgement of his worth without protest.
I studied him for a long moment before continuing.
"However, you have changed."
I stood and stepped closer.
"You are a man. I see conviction in your eyes. I will not use you as a mere puppet."
I pause.
"I will use you as a weapon."
His eyes went wide with interest
"What do you say to this?" I asked.
"Whether as a weapon, a puppet, or a slave," he said quietly, "you have my allegiance to the end of my days."
I smiled. "Then rise, Kevin—Baron of Plimgus."
I had already written to the king, laying out my plan to use this man as a puppet.
By sparing Kevin, I denied Yarbeth the opportunity to use his influence to install another of his own men. I prevented them from accusing me of erasing a House. The only demand they could reasonably make would be Kevin’s death, and if they pressed for it, I could turn that back on them for putting Plimgus in my land. After all, it was their influence that had elevated his family in the first place.
I did not have a response from the king, but it was easier to get forgiveness than permission. At least I hoped that was how it worked here.
"My lord, if I might ask," Kevin said after a moment. "Have you told my sister of your plans?"
"I have not. My only promise to her was to see you returned home alive." I studied him as I spoke. "I will let you tell your sister how you see fit. Know this as well, Lord Plimgus, though I spoke harshly earlier, I would not have had you executed for the sins of your family. I had already taken the measure of your character and found you possessed of a good heart. Now I see that you also have a strong spirit."
I gestured toward the inner hall. "Come. Let us adjourn to the study. We must go over what I expect of my barons."
******
We spent the next hour reviewing the book I had compiled.
It was a collection of every law of Falmoren I had been able to gather so far. Benjamin had been an invaluable resource, though even he occasionally resorted to saying, "That is simply how things are done." When I eventually traveled to the capital, acquiring a complete copy of the kingdom’s laws would be one of my priorities.
Alongside the laws themselves, I had written extensive notes, clarifications, interpretations, and my understanding of their intent. Kevin took the process seriously. Though many of the restrictions limited his authority, he voiced no complaints. That alone set him apart from my other barons.
I also made it clear that these laws were made available in every town. Any citizen could read them, or have them read aloud. The book of laws was likewise part of the fourth level of reading mastery in our school curriculum.
"My lord," Kevin said at last, tapping a page with a calloused finger. "I do not understand this section on what you call innovation. Why are we paying serfs for ideas? They are serfs, not scholars."
"It is the question everyone asks," I replied. "You know of the new plow. I am certain you have seen the results it has produced."
"My sister told me the farmers believe they will double their yields this year."
"Because I offered them a pig to improve it rather than simply use what they had," I said. "The result was a plow that not only cuts through our soil more effectively, but also draws nutrients up from deeper layers. It was the same with the sawmill. The same with the mine carts."
Kevin frowned. "Would it not be simpler to demand such things of them? If you know they are capable, why give them more? Does that not create expectation? On the ships, we were beaten if we did not row. That was motivation enough."
"True," I said. "All creatures will do more to avoid pain than to gain pleasure. But that does not create growth. It only creates compliance. People will do the bare minimum required to avoid suffering. You cannot beat creativity out of a person."
I leaned back in my chair.
"It is why I believe serfs and peasants are considered stupid."
Kevin was silent for a long moment.
"I do not fully understand," he admitted.
"I do not expect you to," I said. "Nor do I expect you to agree with me. I expect you to observe and come to your own conclusions. If you have questions or find fault with what I do, let me know. Many leaders have fallen because their subordinates are not willing to tell them the truth.”
There was no response, but a thoughtful look appeared on Kevin‘s face.
"One of your first tasks," I continued, breaking the quiet, "will be the construction of outposts along the Pollman River. You will travel to the Nore and observe how the river defenses are handled there. Adapt what you see; do not simply copy it."
Kevin nodded. He seemed eager to prove himself.
"Your next task is to build a relationship with the people living between the Three Rivers," I said. "My cousin John informed me of a group of peasants who fled the south. I have already sent scouts to observe them. You will incorporate them into your lands, peacefully."
Kevin frowned. "They fled their masters to avoid their dues. I doubt they would willingly pay taxes."
"Possibly," I agreed. "And that is precisely why you will not begin with force. You will inform them that taxes exist, but they are not currently obligated to pay them. Then you will show them how our plows work by creating a six‑furrow field for them."
"Have our people create a field for people who are living on land that does not belong to them and do not pay taxes?"
I grinned. It did sound ridiculous put that way.
"They may rent the equipment at the standard rate we charge our peasants, plus a tenth more due to them not being our people. Have the laws of North Cove read aloud to them, and keep a careful watch. Within a year, they will see the difference the plow makes. After that, invite them to the markets to trade. They will pay the same surcharge imposed on traveling merchants."
I leaned forward.
"Let them see the benefits of citizenship: the roads, the markets, and protection. If we do this correctly, within a few years, they will ask to join on their own. The benifits far outweigh the costs."
Kevin considered this carefully.
"I think I see now," he said slowly. "The balance of pain and pleasure you use to guide your people."
"Exactly," I replied. "Now, have you met with Elizabeth yet?" I asked.
"I was briefly introduced, but I have been spending my time getting reacquainted with my sister. From what Saran says. Elizabeth has a similar situation to ours."
"She does. She is the daughter of a merchant and has prepared her whole life to help manage a merchant's business for a husband. Use her as an asset to help manage your finances. It is what she has been doing anyway, but I guess what I am saying is, do not neglect her. She will keep this place running better than you. At least for now."
"I will do as you say. My lord, I know I am unworthy of asking this of you, but I still desire to learn how to paint as you do." He said, and for the first time he return I could hear uncertainty enter his voice.
"Serve me faithfully, and I will teach you all I know."
I smiled. Maybe the boy who left was not completely lost.
*****
The next morning, we rode for Oceanside.
Construction on the new road was already underway. This would become one of the most important routes in the Barony of Plimgus, so I authorized the reassignment of several crews to accelerate the work. Delays here would cost us money later.
I had plans for Oceanside. It was to become a major port, one that might even eclipse the city I intended to build along the cove. The cove, after all, sat at the very edge of the county. Well protected, but limited. Oceanside, though more exposed, offered access to a far larger population in the long term.
It was also a dangerous journey once you left the shore of Oceanside. There was a small cove where the chalk merchants used to smuggle their goods, but after that it was sheer cliffs all the way to North Cove. a stretch that a smaller boat would have trouble making in one day. The risk of being blown into the cliffs was one more thing that would make any captain hesitant to make the journey. It both protected and isolated North Cove. A sloop or my future schooner would have no difficulty, but the square rigging they currently had meant that the men would be rowing hard and fast to make it there.
I would still make North Cove the heart of knowledge and technology.
Oceanside would be the port where goods would be spread across the county. My own ships would bring goods down from North Cove, and Traders would grab the goods from there.
I had only visited the village once since the raid. Before the Rabiss came, it had been a poor fishing settlement, its houses barely sturdy enough to withstand the ocean storms. Afterward, it had been little more than charred beams and collapsed walls, piles of wood fit only for burning.
As we crested the hill now, I found myself speechless.
My people had transformed it.
The roads were laid out straight and orderly. Homes had been rebuilt higher on the slope, all in the half‑timbered style. An entire section had been set aside for a future keep, and even a possible castle, just as I had suggested.
Lower down the hill, plots had been marked for current and future businesses. For now, a simple square for market stalls sufficed, but the space allowed for growth. Near the coast, no buildings stood yet. I had deliberately left it open for warehouses that would be needed in ten, twenty, perhaps fifty years.
Short piers jutted into the surf, their foundations reinforced with our new concrete. Rows of driven pillars stood ready for longer docks. Three Rabiss ships lay beached along the shore.
Yet the most beautiful sight was not the buildings.
It was the people.
My people.
They moved with purpose, as though they had never fled at all. Women hurried to plant gardens that had long been neglected after the raid. Men repaired old nets or wove new ones. Along the shoreline, small boats were being carved and fitted, the rhythmic knock of tools carrying over the wind.
As our horses trotted down the hill into the village proper, the motion slowed, then stopped. The only sound left was the distant crash of the waves.
The silence lasted a single heartbeat.
Then the cheer rose.
"Hail, Lord Bicman!" voices cried again and again.
Mixed among them was another chant—one that made my stomach tighten.
"Praise the Chosen!"
I sighed inwardly.
I swear, these people were determined to get me burned at the stake.
To my side, I saw the rest of my party staring as well, the group I had brought from the North, along with Kevin, his sister, and Valik. Some studied the new village with open awe. Others looked at me instead, clearly reassessing what those cheers meant.
"Your people worship you," Valik said, stating the obvious.
I shrugged, doing my best to hide my discomfort. "Would you not respect a man who freed you from slavery?"
Valik’s gaze lingered on the crowd. "I begin to understand why they call you the Hand of Justice and Wrath."
Before things could get more uncomfortable, Baron Bolster spoke up.
"This is what you intend Hillside to become," Bolster said. It was half question, half realization.
"Yes," I replied, unable to keep the pride from my voice. "This is a phase‑one town. Not strictly necessary yet—but this was where we chose to test the model."
"Phase one?" he asked.
"We plan for growth before it happens," I said. "I call it city planning. If you build a house without a plan, it will eventually collapse, or it will have to be torn down to expand. A settlement is no different. One day, this place will support more than ten thousand people. If we plan now, it can grow quickly instead of choking on itself."
"What makes this phase one?" the younger Bolster asked.
"Homes for five hundred people," I answered. "Not all the residences need to be built yet, but the land must be reserved and the roads laid out. The same applies to the business district. And there are infrastructure requirements that must be met from the start."
Kevin exhaled slowly. "I was so focused on returning to Plimgus Manor that I barely spared these changes a thought. Now that I see them properly… I am amazed."
"What is that?" Will asked, pointing toward a massive structure on the tallest hill near the river.
"You know the clean water you have been drinking," I said. "That is how it is made."
The water‑filtration system was a marvel of ancient engineering. Well, I guess it is modern engineering for these people. I had described what I wanted, and my people had built a stone‑and‑concrete monstrosity in response. Water passed through multiple layers of filtration before a screw pump—driven by a wide water wheel—lifted the river water into a cistern. From there, it flowed through additional filters and six clay pipes, each feeding a separate chamber fitted with spigots for filling jugs.
"All of that… just to clean water for a village this size?" Will asked.
I smiled. "No. It is designed for a city of twenty‑five hundred residents—or a port that serves that many people each day."
"That seems an enormous expense merely to provide water for peasants and travelers," Bolster the elder said. "Is it not?"
"It would be," I replied, "if I were paying for it. Tell me, would you pay a copper penny a day, as a traveler, for the water you have been drinking?"
His eyes lit with understanding. "I would pay a copper crown or more. And if this town grows as you intend—if it sees the traffic my seaside village does—" He paused. "But what of your costs?"
"If I charge residents a silver penny per year, or three silver pennies for a household with children over eight, and travelers a single copper penny per day," I said, "then by the time the system reaches capacity, it will earn more than a small barony by itself." Of course, there was the maintenance expense and the pay that went to the charcoal burners. Which were making huge amounts of charcoal to support the county. Not as much charcoal was needed as I feared, but certainly enough that we now had a flourishing industry.
"And this reduces flux and bowel disease?" Bolster asked.
I nodded. "Our projections show one‑fifth fewer deaths from bowel‑related illness across the county this year. Half as many deaths among children under five as last year." Some of that was also due to my introducing germ theory and better hygiene practices. But this was visible immediately.
Valik’s expression changed to one of desire. "How much will you sell this knowledge for?"
"The method itself I will give freely," I said without hesitation. "I will not withhold information that saves lives. The structural designs, however…" I paused. "A silver crown. The engineers who developed this deserve compensation."
Both men stared at me as if I had lost my mind. So little for what I estimated could bring in a huge amount of income.
They did not yet understand. The knowledge would spread regardless. Once people realized that purified charcoal could clean water, reduce disease, and increase productivity for almost nothing, while still turning a profit, they would build systems far greater than this.
People on Marth were not stupid. They only needed to be shown what was possible.
The real difficulty for them would not be the cleaning itself, but the accounting. Creating a system capable of tracking utility usage and billing would be cumbersome without proper records. That, at least, was something I could do far more easily with my RIN system and a large stack of paper.
I would even offer to sell them that paper, of course.
"Count Bicman, every time I think I cannot be any more surprised by you, I am proven wrong," William said. There were nods of agreement from the others.
I noticed Emily among them, wearing a beaming smile, as though all the praise being heaped upon me belonged to her as well. I suppose she enjoyed seeing me succeed nearly as much as I enjoyed seeing her smile.
"You give me too much credit for the work of many people," I said. "Very little of what you see here was accomplished by me alone."
"Seriously, Amos?" Emily said, irritation creeping into her voice. "None of this would exist without you, and you know it. Learn to take a compliment."
I chuckled, unable to help myself. "A character flaw I will endeavor to overcome, Dame Paper. Though without your paper, the system would colapse."
This caused the girl to turn a bright crimson.
My attention was grabbed by a man who pushed his way through the crowd.
Zed the Saltmaker.
He looked thinner than I remembered, the edges of what he had to endure still clinging to him, but the sharpness in his eyes had not dulled. If anything, it burned brighter.
I swung down from my horse as he bowed. Before he could lower himself too far, I caught his forearm and pulled him upright.
"Zed," I said, gripping his hand. "Thank the Endless One you're alive. Is your family well?"
His expression tightened. He shook his head. Grief crossed his face briefly.
"Delilah passed on the journey to Rabiss," he said quietly.
My stomach clenched. "I am so sorry, Zed. If there was anything—"
He offered a weak smile and gently shook his head. "Do not trouble yourself, my lord. We have had three months to grieve. Death is not unfamiliar to us."
Then something fiercer kindled in his eyes.
"How could I mourn endlessly," he continued, "when I was returned, and learned that my son Lance yet lives? The very fact that we are back is more than I ever dreamed of. None of us truly believed we would ever see this shore again until our feet touched it. Even now, some still doubt it." He spread his arms wide and turned in a slow circle.
"Look at this, my lord. We were prisoners for three months and returned to this. Were it not for my house upon the hill, I would believe we had been brought to another village entirely. This…" He swallowed. "This defies what should be possible."
"I am glad you approve," I said, smiling despite myself. "I do have a request of you, though."
"Ask," he replied without hesitation. "It shall be done."
"According to my sources, the former headman of this village was involved in its betrayal."
Zed’s jaw tightened. He nodded once. "The traitor did not survive the voyage to Rabiss."
"Then I find myself in need of a new headman," I said. "Will you take the post?"
He bowed deeply. "I am unworthy, but I will fulfill my duty with all that I have until you deem another fit to replace me."
"Excellent," I said. "Come. We have much to discuss. What you see here is only the beginning."