The tavern in Ironwood was as noisy as ever. Backgammon dice rattled across boards at every table, creating an endless din that nearly drowned out conversation, but nobody seemed to mind.
Laughter and curses occasionally broke through the noise as winners celebrated and losers lamented.
In the far-left corner, three merchants huddled together, discussing something animatedly, trying to reach agreement.
— Bert, do you believe this? — one of them asked.
These were the same traders who had approached Victor about purchasing wine and who had planned to teach the incompetent lord a lesson. Yet their failed scheme posed no problem, as the discount they received allowed them to profit handsomely, prompting them to return to Baltas with even more gold.
Now, in Ironwood, they bought not only wine and salt but also fabrics, chicken, and other goods brought by different merchants.
For all these transactions, they paid a new tax instituted by the lord—three percent—a negligible sum compared to rates across the continent, except Rondan, where dwarves levied no taxes at all.
Here, traders benefitted from the lord's protection, security provided by guards throughout the territory, and even rented storage facilities for safekeeping—something unprecedented.
No one would entrust their merchandise to another lord, as recovering even half of stored goods intact would qualify as a miracle.
In Baltas, however, they paid only one copper coin per cart, and the local baron assumed full liability for safe delivery.
Initially, few dared avail themselves of this offer, but rumors circulated that one brave soul took the risk and, surprisingly, retrieved his goods intact. He even secured repairs for his carts at a fifty-percent discount in Baltas.
Cart repairs were essential, as they operated on crude principles: wood dried, split, or cracked over time.
Encouraged by these reports, traders began lining up at warehouses, only to discover insufficient capacity. What once seemed an option now transformed into a necessity—storing goods under armed guard.
Typically, they left someone to guard their belongings, sometimes staying themselves to watch over their convoys.
Even now, one could spot merchants hurrying to check on their goods, reassured by the lack of interference.
This was all part of Victor's strategy: with Vorkat's help, he staged the initial provocation involving warehouses, spreading rumors thereafter. Credit to the merchant, the scheme succeeded, and the influx of copper coins, though modest, enriched the coffers, foreshadowing even greater returns once traders adapted to the system.
— What do you think? — Bert replied. — When has this lord ever done anything for free? Nevertheless, whenever it comes to his honor, he holds true to his word.
— But why is he selling such a vital secret? Many lords conceal the locations of their mines, yet this one sells the secret for thousands of gold pieces.
At the mention of this sum, saliva dripped from the speaker's mouth.
— We'll find out tomorrow, but if it's genuine, I'll pay every coin I have to acquire it, — Bert declared. — Let's cease talking about the lord unless you want to lose your heads.
Everyone understood the implication. On a noble's land, praise was mandatory; criticizing his actions carried grave risks, potentially costing lives.
Merchants relaxed here, sheltered from complications. Over time, they began perceiving the baron as a sympathetic ally, an uncommon trait among nobles, which elevated their esteem for him.
***
Malick, son of Ironwood's mayor, dashed through the village, executing Shona's orders, thrilled by her presence, as each day he grew more befuddled by developments.
His father had taught him what he knew, but the arrival of a new lord transformed everything radically. Old lessons no longer applied to managing the evolving village.
Merchants arrived from across the kingdom, and Malick, mistaking them for nobles, initially knelt before them. Later, Shona explained that nobles always wore house sigils on their chests, negating the need to memorize symbols. If no badge was visible, the visitor was either wealthy common folk or a merchant. Even if an unrecognized noble appeared, blame would fall on the aristocrat, not the peasant.
This alleviated some stress, but problems persisted. Merchants demanded much, and Malick had to defer to the castle butler or lord himself, tasks beyond his capability.
Now, with Shona capable of making decisions, he happily relegated himself to messenger, despite being in his mid-twenties.
At that moment, he raced toward carpenters and masons, scheduled to begin construction of a new inn per the lord's directive. Workers resided in newly-built homes on the western outskirts, constructed by themselves.
Clutching a bundle of parchments, he zigzagged across streets, maneuvering around carts and pedestrians, careful not to drop any sheets containing designs for the innovative hotel, featuring not only bedrooms but also plumbing, sewage systems, and bathtubs.
Victor labored extensively on this project, only achieving feasibility with the architect's assistant, sent by Nollah.
A three-story brick edifice would incorporate all the finest products from Baltas, including soap, recently manufactured in small batches.
Soap production had long been delayed by supply chain failures, but demand soared after neighboring lords sampled samples and pestered Victor for bulk purchases.
None of this registered with Malick. His sole concern was delivering the order and handing the blueprints to Nirtha, the architect's assistant.
Arriving at Nirtha's residence, adjacent to carpenter and mason quarters, he rapped urgently on the door, listening intently for signs of occupancy.
Soon, the door swung open, revealing a twenty-something man of average height, with a refined, aristocratic appearance: round eyes, straight nose, pursed lips, sharp cheekbones, thin eyebrows, and a smooth chin dimple.
— What is it? — Nirtha inquired brusquely.
— Orders from the lord, — Malick pronounced reverentially, extending the scrolls. — It states preparations for the site must begin; deliveries of building materials are imminent. You have two weeks.
Nirtha gently took the scrolls, unfurling them to reveal the architectural renderings developed by Victor, refined with the architect's guidance.
— Very well, we'll commence work tomorrow morning, — he affirmed, stepping back indoors and slamming the door in Malick's face.
The mayor's son didn't resent this reception, content merely to fulfill another assignment. Turning around, he trotted cheerfully toward the warehouse, where Shona awaited.
"Oh, if only I could hurry home; my wife must have cooked chicken," he daydreamed, quickening his steps.
***
Meanwhile, Victor remained ensconced in the castle, immersed in a monumental undertaking that could exact a heavy toll.
Currently, he drafted the legal code for Baltas, introducing provocative reforms.
Among them was a statute guaranteeing the right to life, stipulating that even a lord couldn't execute someone without trial—a privilege traditionally reserved for nobles.
Landowners typically accused individuals arbitrarily, ending disputes summarily. On their territory, they ruled supreme. Naturally, mass executions drew royal, ecclesiastic, and mage tower scrutiny.
Regardless, penalties facing nobles remained trivial: fines and token punishments.
Even torching an entire city wouldn't result in harsher repercussions than loss of holdings and demotion, though history recorded no such cases.
Intent on intervention, Victor planned to change this dynamic—initially confined to his domain. Awareness would follow, but this was merely a blueprint for future legislation. Initially, he aimed to regulate relations among commoners and abolish substitution rights:
Substitution allowed offenders to substitute another person to bear punishment in their stead, a practice exploited frequently, but Victor intended to reject this absurdity.
Similarly, compensation payments—where victims' families received financial reparations—would be eliminated.
Drafted with clear language absent judicial nuances, his statutes ensured accountability and minimized loopholes. Without presumption of innocence, defendants bore the burden of proof. An exception granted a five-year reprieve in capital cases pending new evidence.
Given his knowledge base stemmed from internet research and television, he opted for an experimental approach: try-and-test.
Some Earthly norms wouldn't translate—for instance, prison. Incarceration in a warm, nourished environment would attract rather than deter criminals, hence unsuitable.
Remaining options included execution or hard labor, both unacceptable solutions. Spurred by the near-death of a child, he sought order in his dominion.
Completing the final clause, he tossed his quill onto the parchment, stretched his arms overhead, and moaned like a whimpering dog.
Sunset indicated dinnertime, prompting him to abandon waiting for the ill-tempered maid and head to the dining hall.
Descending to the main floor, he found Alganis, Linea, and Shona already seated. The latter appeared unusually tense, and Victor, navigating the hallway, worried how she'd manage formal dining, as etiquette was foreign to him too, inherited only from the previous occupant's memories.
All rose upon his entrance, greeting him before resuming their seats.
Taking his place at the head of the table, serving staff delivered dishes vastly diversified by improved commerce. Newfound spices and vegetables complemented meals, delighting Victor, who missed such flavors.
Many unfamiliar dishes reminded him of home cooking, a subtle pleasure overshadowing fears of future conflict. War was transient; food was eternal.
He compiled recipes nonstop, urging cooks to experiment with new combinations.
One ingredient remained elusive: sugar. Nonexistent here, honey and sweet fruits substituted inadequately. Honey disgusted him, eclipsed only by his aversion to fried onions.
Tonight's menu featured diverse fish, baked vegetables, roasted chickens, and abundant baked fare, constrained by the lack of suitable kitchenware.
Victor surveyed the feast, selecting portions for himself.
Contrary to expectation, nobles served themselves from communal plates, while maids facilitated service. This surprised him, as he imagined a restaurant-style sequence of courses. Uncertainty lingered: was this norm exclusive to Baltas or universal?
Spooning baked vegetables, he observed Shona adeptly wielding utensils, conforming flawlessly to aristocratic standards, whereas Linea appeared comparatively clumsy.
Affirming his suspicion, Victor concluded that Shona wasn't merely a noblewoman but ranked higher than a baroness.
This wasn't conjecture; only a privileged family could cultivate such polished etiquette, evident in her spontaneous curtsy at the warehouse. Feigning simplicity as a commoner proved more daunting than embracing her aristocratic heritage.
"Once dinner concludes, I must resolve this mystery before entangling myself in another debacle." Monitoring Shona, he resolved to confront this ambiguity decisively.