It was somewhat depressing how fast people got back to life as soon as they realized what was happening. No sooner had the body been cleared than people got back to browsing the stalls and enjoying the vendors' food. I had to remember the world I was living in. These people were used to death. Someone was always sick. Everyone had a family member who had passed away. Death was part of their life, and people here knew how to move past it.
Then take into account that this man was a thief and had interrupted one of the few times of the year when they could actually enjoy time off, and it became clear why people ignored the body and the cleanup and continued to look at all the wonders of the fair. The news of what happened would spread, and the only interesting bit of gossip would be a wildly exaggerated story of how the Count was attacked by a madman.
Rick dealt with the cleanup while Emily and I approached the man whose wares had been stolen. It was, or had been, a beautiful ceramic pot. Cracked in half as it hit a stone. My passion for art could not allow me to pass up the opportunity to find out where this magnificent work had come from. To my surprise, the man was from south of the Spine. The mountain range that separated the Vassel Kingdoms from Turabe. Most recently, though, they were from the Kingdom of Nile. I could see from the ragged state of the man's clothes that the Journey had been harsh. His once fine outfit was becoming threadbare. Even before I arrived at the stall, I had put a small bag of gold together to compensate the visitor for his lost pot and buy something. When I discovered his situation, I decided to give the whole pouch.
Then Emily decided to steal away his daughter to talk to during the match. She said it was because I was boring during the match, not a lie, but the real reason was more nefarious. She would bully the girl named Joplee into telling her all about herself. Emily had a curious mind, especially when it came to people. She had done the same thing to Tumlus when he first arrived. The poor glassmaker was practically forced into being her friend.
I chuckled to myself as I watched the two young women stroll arm in arm in front of me. One walked almost as stiff as a board while the other peppered her with questions.
So off we went off to the football game. Since it was the opening game, I had to give a quick speech to kick it off. I don’t even remember what I said. It must have been good enough because people cheered as I sat down in my seat next to Emily and Joplee. It was actually a close game. The first half was just kicking the ball up and down the field, but then in the second half, the Thunder pulled off a three-to-two win.
I spent half the time teasing Emily about her leech-like behavior. I should have been better mannered, but I couldn’t help myself. Joplee seemed completely overwhelmed by our behavior. Another brain broken.
After that, we went to the track and field events, where we watched relays and the high jump. Neither of these events had originated from me, but I did introduce the Fosbury Flop earlier that year. I personally didn’t do it; I left that to people better suited to it. But when I tried calling it the Fosbury flop, everyone thought that was a weird name, and so it became the Bicman flop. I blame Edward for that. He printed an article about it in the first-ever newspaper. And he didn’t even own the business; I did. Just another situation where nobody wanted to listen to their lord. It really wasn’t worth the effort.
Joplee had loved the bicycle race she had witnessed the best. It made me cringe. Of all the inventions in North Cove that made me want to slap my head, the big wheel bike was up near the top. They were not great for most travel, and they were dangerously unstable. As soon as I realized my mistake, I started pushing the engineers to make something better. Even going so far as to authorize the attempt to make a chain. I had to admit I was extremely curious to see which bike would turn out best.
Unfortunately, my opinion of the new bike was not shared by the majority of the population. I don’t know if it was that it was something new or people were danger junkies but bike races had quickly become a favorite activity. I had to remind myself it was better then some other activities that past civilizations had like gladiatorial fights or jousting.
That newspaper was one of the biggest sensations of the fair. It was three large sheets and discussed current events going on in North Cove, a summary of what people could find at the fair, and even a few interviews with each Baron in the county. Actually, Malcomp and Yarbeth had their stewards do the interviews for them, but that was ok. Unfortunately and fortunately, there was no freedom of the press, so Edward's reporters had to be very tactful in how they represented each of the nobles, but that was fine.
I worried about what would happen when the first underground press was created, where opinions and gossip would be shared freely. Hopefully, it would not start until I had enough clout to withstand the backlash from Nobles who wanted to burn me at the stake for inventing the press.
We had printed 3,000 copies by the time of the fair. Each sold for a low introductory cost of 1 copper. The cost of the newspapers was also subsidized by advertising. We got the paper at cost because we advertised Dame Paper’s prices. Ink was negligible, and the labor costs were around 10 gold after all was said and done. Most of the profit we made was not from the people buying the paper but from all the people who wanted to get their names in the paper for their shops. The price ranged from five silver up to one gold.
If all three thousand sold, and I had no doubt that they would, then the profit would be about seven gold. Not huge, but that isn’t what we were going for. This was a flex.
The traveling merchants would buy up as many as they could before they left, probably paying ridiculous sums to my people just to get any copies that they could. Within a few weeks, the first newspaper would be in the capital and in the home of every high noble in Falmoren.
I had wanted to stay under the radar. I had wanted to grow my wealth in secret. But as is often the case, the world had other plans. The first problem was the attack on my people by other nobles. They thought there would be no consequences because I was just a backwater lord with no support. The barons who had killed my men on the border did not fear reprisal. Showing the capabilities of North Cove was the first step towards drawing support from other nobles.
Next was my marriage to a relative of the Royal Family. The rumors coming from the capital were that I was unworthy of marrying into the royal line. What value did I bring to the table? I had no desire to marry this woman, but I was not going to let my personal feelings put my people at risk. The magical items I created in North Cove would not be enough, of course, but it was a start.
An entire strategy had been set up by John and Benjamin for presenting my image to the nobility, even before I arrived in the capital. We weren’t expecting to sway everyone, just create an air of excitement so that I was greeted with interest rather than disdain. It could all backfire on us, of course, and cause a war or cause the king to demand everything, but our military and fortifications were growing, and within a few years, I also hoped to have a chain we could draw across the mouth of the cove. I had no desire to become a city-state, but if I could not get enough support and the attacks continued, I would have to politely remove those from my lands who were hampering our safety and seal ourselves off.
With the next newspaper set to be released in two weeks, reporting on the fair and festival, the capital should be nicely prepped by the time I arrive.
Pukam
Pukam found himself standing before the nobility once more. The vaulted ceilings of the audience hall made him feel impossibly small, the polished stone floor reflecting the pale light of the high windows. First, it had been the Count and Dame Paper. They had been some of the most generous and kind souls he had ever encountered in his long years of wandering. The Count had initially gifted him a sum of coin that would single-handedly ensure his people did not starve through the brutal winter months ahead. Then, Dame Paper had taken young Joplee away for the day, guiding the girl through the wonders of the estate. When his daughter returned, she had a vibrant, beautiful ribbon woven through her hair and held a small bronze mirror that caught the light like spun gold, both precious gifts from the highborn lady. Joplee’s arms had been laden with wooden toys for her younger sisters, her face glowing with a joy Pukam hadn't seen in years.
Joplee had spent hours rambling about all the wonders she had witnessed, breathlessly explaining how her noble hosts had treated her as though she were a princess instead of a refugee. It was through his daughter's excited chatter that Pukam learned a staggering truth, Dame Paper was not merely related to the noble house that managed the paper trade; she was the actual inventor and sole owner of the entire paper industry across the known world.
“I am going to work for her in her paper shop,” Joplee had proclaimed that evening, her tiny jaw set with such fierce determination that Pukam had felt a lump form in his throat. She was so unshakeable in her belief that he silently vowed to do whatever it took to make that dream a reality.
Thanks to the reputation he had inadvertently gained from the Count’s highly visible visit to his market stall, Pukam’s trading had flourished. He had sold every scrap of cargo he managed, and he would be leaving the territory with a comfortably fat coin purse. Every evening after the market closed, he met with those who had traveled with him. Huddled around a dim fire, they had whispered late into the night, debating how they might persuade the local nobility to allow their people to stay permanently.
In the end, the others had chosen Pukam as their voice. And so now, three days after the final tents of the great fair had been struck, he found himself kneeling on the cold floor before Lord Plimgus. In truth, Pukam would have much preferred to ask the generous Count himself, but he was not so brazen as to bypass the proper hierarchy and demand an audience with the ruler of the realm.
The Baron possessed hard, unyielding eyes—the kind of eyes shaped by an intimate understanding of hardship and survival. His heavy gaze was penetrating, tracking every breath Pukam took as he waited for the merchant to speak. Beside the Baron sat a petite girl, her delicate features mirroring his enough to confirm the rumors that she was his sister. The gossip his people had gathered at the fair whispered that these two had been granted rule over this rugged borderland even after their late father had committed treason against the Count.
Pukam’s mouth felt instantly dry as he forced himself to break the silence. “My lord, I have come to plead with you to allow me and my people to take refuge in your land, and to serve you faithfully.”
A short, heavy pause hung over the chamber before the Baron responded, his voice a light tenor. “How many people are you requesting shelter for?”
Pukam swallowed hard, his knuckles whitening as he kept his eyes lowered. “Six hundred, my lord.”
Baron Plimgus’s dark brows knit tightly together, and a slight, troubled frown crossed his weathered face.
Pukam’s heart instantly dropped into his stomach, a cold dread washing over him. He knew what he was asking was a lot. The sheer logistical nightmare of absorbing six hundred weary souls into a lordship midway through the autumn harvest was, of course, asking far too much. He braced himself for the inevitable rejection.
Instead, the Baron turned his head slightly toward his sister. “Saran, were you and Elizabeth able to find something suitable in the surveys?”
The young woman shifted, lifting a thick sheet of parchment to show her brother. “We had originally planned to distribute the expected families between site B, where others are already gathering,” she explained. “However, we were certainly not anticipating a group of this size. A handful of families, not a town's worth.”
Pukam's head drooped without even realizing it. Rejected again. However, her next words caused his head to snap up.
“Given the numbers, I think it would be far better to settle them across sites G and H. They are both located within two kilometers of each other along a small river. There are a few natural lakes near those locations as well, which will provide immediate water. Site G is closest to the Great Northern road, but once we clear the timber and build a side road, access to the main road shouldn't be an issue. We could take a few of the road crew to act as foremen for those who will be living there.”
The Baron nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “And the housing?”
“Long houses,” Saran replied confidently. “With that many people arriving and the season growing late, I estimate we will need to construct twelve to fourteen large housing units. We will need to send an immediate courier to request more cement from the capital; our current stores won't be enough to pour the foundations for that many structures. Fortunately, with the sites already mapped, we should be able to get with the survey team and find proper locations quickly.”
“Stoves for the winter?” the Baron asked.
“We have enough in the storehouses to manage that,” the young lady said with a reassuring nod.
Pukam remained frozen on his knees, his mind spinning as he tried to process the strange words flowing back and forth. From what he could tell they had already calculated and decided on the matter long before he had even walked through the heavy chamber doors to begin negotiations.
The Baron turned his gaze back down to the floor, noticing Pukam's utterly stunned expression. A faint, knowing look softened the lord's harsh features. “Count Amos sent word to his Barons some days ago,” Lord Plimgus explained, leaning forward slightly. “He informed us that a man named Pukam of Nile might seek a permanent home for his people. The Count tasked us with identifying suitable land to offer you. However, he neglected to mention the exact size of your group. Normally, a group of this size would face a strict waiting period while our guards evaluated the threat of foreign spies from our neighbors. But given your background and the Count's already making his own assessment, he felt the risk was minimal. I happen to agree.”
Pukam’s head felt light, a wave of profound relief making him slightly dizzy. The Count had already done so much to help his immediate family, and now he had quietly moved mountains for his entire people.
“Forgive me, my lord,” Pukam said, wetting his dry lips. His chest tightened with anxiety; he knew he risked offending the great lord by questioning him, but he would rather be cast into a dungeon than blindly lead his trusting people into a veiled trap. “What… what are the exact terms of servitude for refugees in your domain?”
The Count might seem to be a saintly man, but Pukam knew the world of nobles was fraught with hidden cruelty. His people had nearly been lured into a deceptive contract by a ruthless Baron in Kimton the previous winter—a trap that would have legally bound them to a status far worse than common serfs.
Baron Plimgus did not take offense. Instead, he gave a slow nod as if he understood what he was aware of what was really being asked. “Each household of your community will be required to sign a standard residency contract. You will not pay a single coin or grain in taxes for the first year. It is our policy to give you a fair chance to establish your crops and homesteads. During the second and third years, you will be charged one-twentieth of your produced goods, allowing your wealth to grow quickly. By the fourth year, once you are fully self-sufficient, you will begin paying the county's standard tax of one-tenth.”
The Baron paused, ensuring Pukam understood every word. “Furthermore, each person within your group over the age of ten will be required to swear an oath of fealty to my house. I will have a formal copy of the lease agreement and the Vassal oath prepared for you by morning so that you may take it back to your elders for review. We will also provide an escort to accompany you to the future lands we plan to settle you, so you may inspect the land your people are to be given. If the location is acceptable, you may sign a document stating your intent, and we will officially reserve the territory for you.”
The Baron’s gaze sharpened, his tone turning serious. “You will have exactly one month from today to claim the land and have your people swear their fealty. I strongly recommend you not delay. Time is short. Your people will have to work exceptionally hard alongside my laborers if you wish to be prepared before the winter weather. It is much harsher than the South.”
As Pukam bowed his head to the stone floor, his eyes stinging with tears, he no longer harbored any doubt that the Mother of Creation had a direct hand in his people's destiny. He must have deeply pleased the Father of the Great Cycle in a past life to be granted such an absolute miracle in this one, a grand miracle that had begun, incredibly, with a stolen piece of pottery.