On the same day, after my belated victory celebration was cut short by the arrival of Elena and her Red Lion Mercenary Band, I found myself back at Frostheath Mansion.
I sat in a chair in the living room, planning my next move. John stood to my right, Elena to my left, the two of them staring at each other in silence.
John's gaze toward her was filled with clear suspicion. Perhaps that was because he was, at heart, a true knight. I knew this well. Having fought alongside him, I had seen that although he was rigidly hierarchical and often authoritative toward common folk, but when he commanded them during the Battle of Farville, he treated them with honor and genuine care. A truly chivalrous man. Or so I thought.
On the other hand—
Elena returned his stare with a friendly, warm smile.
She was a foreign mercenary. Judging by her armor, weapons, and horse alone, one might mistake her for a knight. But she clearly was not. She was hired with gold by a lady who controlled trade cartels and criminal syndicates. Beautiful, graceful, and professional on the surface, yet beneath that exterior, her true nature remained elusive. I couldn't quite grasp her personality yet. Perhaps, with time, it would become clearer. Or so I thought.
"Where should we house them, sire?" John asked, his expression serious.
"Um… maybe in the barracks?" I answered.
"We could do that, if your lordship wishes," Elena said with a smile.
"Sire, I must humbly protest this proposition," John said, cutting in before she could continue.
"Hmm? Why?" I asked, glancing at him. Elena simply stood still, her warm smile unchanged.
"I am concerned for the lady's safety," John said. "My men are not disciplined enough to withstand… this level of beauty."
There was a slight twitch in his face. He was definitely lying.
"You need not worry, Sir Knight," Elena replied, her smile radiant enough to melt the heart of any man on the receiving end. "I am quite proficient in the art of protecting myself."
"…I support Sir John's decision, though," I said, breaking the moment. "For such a fair maiden, safety must come first."
I sat in silence for a moment, then continued, a plan forming in my mind.
"Why don't you and your troops lodge in Farville Village for a month? You can help protect the peasants who will be cleaning, repairing and repopulating the village."
Elena's expression shifted, her smile fading into a serious, professional calm.
"Help and protect the peasants of Farville for a month… is this the mission, vostra signoria?" she asked.
"Aye," I answered with a smile. "That is your mission."
"Understood."
She bowed briefly, then turned and walked out through the front door of my mansion, her footsteps steady and unhurried.
As the door closed behind her, I couldn't help but feel that I had just placed a sharp blade somewhere close to my own throat.
----
After Elena and her comrade left my manor, silence settled back into my living room. Now there were only me, John, and a few maids left in the room.
"So, what's your deal with her, John?" I asked, gesturing for him to sit down opposite me.
"She's quite infamous in the martial world of knights and mercenaries," he said as he sat down before me.
"Is she dangerous to us?" I asked with a concerned look.
"Simply no. She was already paid by an even bigger fish. She's a professional and won't betray you, for sure," he answered.
"Good to know, but then why do you look so concerned about her?" I asked.
"Then let me tell you a story, sir… a story about an unfortunate little girl," he said, gathering his breath before continuing. I leaned in to listen, wearing an interested expression.
"There once was a daughter of a lowborn in the capital of the Kingdom. Her father was a drunkard, her mother was a whore. She was weak and poor, living as a beggar by a puddle of filth. One fateful night, her father was beating up her mother and tried to beat her too…"
He paused to rest his throat for a bit. I was quite intrigued by the tale, and so he continued.
"…A small stroke of a knife to her face, and thus his fate was sealed. A girl stood up and roared as if she were possessed by a beast of old. A punch to the balls, a kick to the head, finished with a stomp to the brain. Her father was now dead, and her mother was about to…"
He paused again before continuing.
"...Instead of finding help, she curb-stomped her mother too, for the crime of giving birth to her in such a cruel, merciless world. And as her hands and feet soaked in blood, she now knew her path shall be paved with one too. She killed her own parents at ten, killed her first goblin at eleven, killed her first orc at thirteen, killed her first bandit at sixteen, and her first knight at eighteen. Now that she is twenty, a band of warriors has formed around her radiant beauty, a red-haired lady as beautiful as an elf of old, yet as strong as the primeval beastkin of the wild. They travel the land as freelancers, waging war for nobility and waging battle against them too. None ever question her prowess, the Red Lioness who never fails quest and has never known defeat. And for the marquis who dared not pay her, he would be dead by the end of sunset as the moon rose beneath the same sky… and now she is in your service, my lord."
I clapped my hands at his storytelling skill, and he bowed slightly in response.
"Are you a bard or something, John? Why do you know so much about some mercenary captain's backstory?" I asked.
"How flattering, but no, sire. I'm just a lover of martial lore and warrior stories. I was a mercenary before your father knighted me, remember?" He answered with a question of his own.
"Uh… no?" I replied.
"Ah! Amnesia. I'm sorry for asking, sir," he bowed again in apology.
"No need to do that, John. And by the way, you still haven't answered my question about why you were so concerned about her," I said.
"I wasn't concerned about her, sire. I was concerned about the well-being of those around her, and her enemies' well-being," John answered.
"Those around her and her enemies' well-being?" I asked in perplexed confusion.
"In the world of mercenaries, she's infamous for causing massive collateral damage and going too far during battles."
"How?" I asked.
"Well, there was this one time when she was tasked with reducing the black bear population in a marquis's forest. She became so carried away with her 'population reduction' that the black bears—whose numbers were carefully controlled for economic and safety reasons—were completely wiped out from the area. The marquis was so furious that he refused to pay for her services… and as the story goes—"
"He shall be dead by the end of sunset, and as the moon rises beneath the same sky…" I mumbled quietly.
"Yes, sire. This is why I'm concerned. Not about betrayal, but about her and her men getting carried away and causing unforeseen consequences, placing them inside a barrack might invoke an incident of them fighting lowborn mens-at-arms for fun and boredom." he said with a troubled look.
"Should I dispatch you and your knights to oversee her?" I asked.
"I suggest so, my lord."
"Then make sure she knows her limits, alright?"
"Understood. I shall prepare my men for the ride."
"Good luck."
"Yes, sire," he answered as he stood up, bowed, and walked out of the room in a hurry.
After that, I sighed so heavily that the maids around the room looked at me in concern. I carried my now-tired body back up to the working station of quill and ink in my bedroom, where I had a spare desk tucked inside the cupboard.
Somehow, I could rest my head away from the matters of John and Elena as I drew a new invention blueprint onto parchment, writing descriptions of what resources should be used to build it, how to use them effectively, and how to organize them into an industrial machine of mass production.
"How fun. Somehow dealing with paper and quill has become less stressful than dealing with people, huh?" I mumbled to myself as I was consumed by my passion for writing inventions for my people.
With iron and coal beneath my land, I imagined a line of infernal facilities littering the landscape, with a labor force organized into a well-oiled machine. With organization alone, and without any significant technological leap, I could churn out so much iron that I could export it, diversify my trade, and arm my troops with better weapons.
I even considered secretly beginning work on the mass production of steel and gunpowder.
And with that level of organization and wealth, I would require a more effective bureaucracy and stronger, better-off laborers. With that in mind, I would focus first on welfare, education, and hygiene.
As I thought to myself, my body screamed once more, "I want to sleep."
So I walked to my bed and let my head fall onto it.
"A little nap won't hurt. I must stay healthy for my people's sake," I thought as I drifted into sleep—sleeping far longer than I expected, while a larger conflict quietly formed beyond my knowing.